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Full text of "All the year round / conducted by Charles Dickens."

1845 


1847 


1853 


\.
\NRENCE PUJLIC 
l13
 \
y 
\ 
EST hLLISH':'D 1ùï2 


LAVJREr
CE, r\.hSS. 



"The St01'Y qf Ollr Lives .11'0111, Year to Yem'."-SnAKESl'EARE. 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 



 

teekrn .Rjournal. 


COKDUCTED :BY 


CIli\.RLES DICI(ENS. 


.WITH WIIICH IS I:KCORPORATED HOUSEHOLD WORDS. 


VOLU
IE XI. 


FROll FEBRUARY . 1'
U6USI 6, lSß4. 

 
I1Zclu lItg No. 251 to ]{o. 2Î6. " 


hI' 


" ..,. 
"'J
 

..." .
 


LOXDON: 
PUDLISI-IED AT NO' 26, 'VELLI
GTO
 STREET; 
A
D BY )IESSRS. CHAP:
L\.
 A:i\D HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
186-1. 



2 /, 1f
9 
J-O / 3 
/ 
ÚFORT IIO"USE, STRAXD. 



PAGE 
A RENT in a Clom} . 1Rr., 211, 2:;;:;, 
260, 2S2, 304, 331, 356, 3i7,4.02, 42.J. 
Ad mimI's Fitzroy's Predictions 301 
Africa, Fighting in . . 130 
African Ants 561-,59-i 
A
ricultural E
hibitio
 in 
India . .' . 2i2 
Alabama, Cruise of the . 1:>8 
A 111\Ioonshine.. . 2t!9 
Alligators in Ce) Ion . 200, 400 
Amateur Touting . . . 1Ù1 
Amazonian :Katuralist, An . 592 
America-Insects in the South 
441, 592 
America-The Fenian Brothers 
in . . . .. 391 
American Blockade Story 497 
American CO\l\.ersation. _ 22 
 
American Sanitary Commission 328 
Am011g Pirates. . . . 83 
Anecdotes of Horses and Do
s 2tm 
Ann Hathaway's Cottage. 349 
Annuities and Pension Lir.t 559 
Area Sneaks . . . . 10 
Armstrong and Whitworth 
Guns . . " 21 
Army, Female 'Vorkshops 5tO 
Army, Hospital Xm'ses. 32S 
Army, Sanitary Commission 328 
Armv, Soldiers' Wives 546 
Art òf Unfattening . 4t7 
A rtillery Trials.. 21 
Assault and Battery. 205 
Attorney and Barrister 372 
Annt Bella. . .. 540 
Australia, Gold Digging in 1
1 
Australia, Shooting . 181 


"BALCOJ'iIES ror Foot Pa"sengers 
Barristers on Circuit . . 
Bates (
Ir.), The Naturalist . 
.Battle of the Barrels 
Eears in Ceylon, 
Beer-Bouse Clubs 
Bees. . . . . 
mrd-Catehinp; Spider . 
Black Art in Grumbleton 
Black Men. . . . . 
Rrinvil1iers, The Marchioness 
"Britannia's Head for Fil!Ul'es . 
Brittany, Superstitious of 
Brown Hess Gun, The . 
Budget, The . 
Buffaloes in Ce
'lon . 


9 
372 
592 
421 
. 401 
149, 535 
563 
593 
60 
12S 
476 
/í57 
fi7;J 
19 
557 
401 


CABS. . . 11 
Captain Bluenose . . . 115 
Carefully :Moved in Town and 
Country . 3H 
Carmine . . . . . 5G3 
Caroline 
Iatilda, The Princess 590 
Catamaran Boat . . . 296 
Ceylon, Animal Life and Ad- 
ventures in 198,249,293,400,418 
Ceylon, Canoes of . . . 2\11 
Ce
lon, Climate of. . . 400 
Ceylon, Coffee and Hopper . 418 
Ceylon, Uevil Bird . 297 
Ceylon, Rivers of . 2\13 
Ceylon Robbers. . 2!J7, 421 


" 


CONTENTS. 


. 


rAGE 
Ceylon, Three Simple 
Ien of. 179 
Ceylon, Waterspouts on the 
Coa
t of. .. 295 
Chambers for Families. . 11 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
Duties of . . . . . 557 
Chicago, Fenian Brothers at 391 
Chinew Kites. " 17 
Chintz Bu
 441 
Christian Pasha 367 
Circuit, Lods;ings on 373 
Civil List, 'l'he.. 559 
Clubs of Working ::\Ien H9 
Cochineal. . . . . 562 
Coffee and Hopper. . . 418 
Companies, The Promoters of no 
Confederatcs, Ships for the . 1H 
Consolidated Fund. . . 559 
Corpulence before the COll- 
quest . . . 
Cro,sin!!s, Brid
es over 
Cruise of the Alabama 
Cupid's 1\lanufactory 
Cuttle Fish . . 


DAXISH Arm
-, Horses and 
Dogs of the .. . 
Dauish Ai'my Surgeon . . 
Danish Camp, In and Out of 
the. . . . . . 
Danish, Captain Bluenose 
Danish Legenùs 
Danish Luminaries 
Danish 'Var, 'l'he 
Danish Writers. 
Daoud Pasha 
Dead Sea 
Debt. . 
Den-Stalking. . . . 
Delirium Trelliens, The Visions 
during 
Dcnmark. . . . . 
Denmark, Caroline l\latilda, 
Queen of . 
Dcvil Bird. . 
Diet, Changes in 
Dinner Gi"in
. . . 
Dirpetors of the Adamant 
Diseases, Changes ill 
Dr. Peregrine's Page 
Dress, Chan/\"es in 
Drink, The Sale of . 
Dogs, Anecdotes of . 
Duck-lane Club 


LARLSWOOD, Idiot Asylum at. 
Ea."ter Revival. . 
Editor's Room, An . 
Elephants in Ceylon. 
Eliot, Sir John. . 
Enfield Rifle . . . 
England's Balance-Sheet 
English Dress, History of 
Ehtomolo!dst Gone Soutll 
:Fppin/l'; Iiunt, The. . 
Exceedingly Odd Fellows 
Excursion .\gent . . 
Excursion Trips . . 
E1:penditure of the Xation 
E
'e Spectres 


447 
9 
13S 
36 
. 249 


PAGE 
FAIR Denmark . . 83 
Ic'airier. of the Rance . 575 
}'armers in .:\1 uslin . . 272 
Farming by ::iteam . . 67 
Fashions . . . . 136, 569 
Faversham, 
ight Attack at . 205 
Fenian Brothers . 391 
Fetishes . . ., 569 
Fighting in Western Africa 130 
Financial Statement, The . 1';57 
Fire!. . . . . . 69 
Fire at the Cathedral, Santiago 69 
Fitzp;erald's Life of Sterne . 489 
Fitzroy's (Admiral) Predic- 
tions . . 301 
Fjelds of Norway . . . 77 
FJammand, Monsieur, Story 
of . . . . . . 228 
Flies in South America. . 441 
Flowery Land Pirates, The 83 
Flying Foxes . . . . 249 
F<Jrei!!:n Enlistment Act. . 138 
Forster's plr.) Life of Sir John 
Eliot . " 253 
Fox, Shackle, and Leg
it . 612 
Franee--Storyof Pêre Flam- 
maud . . . . . 229 
France - The Poison Chamber. 476 
French Etiquette . . . 616 
Frenchman in London, The . 396 
From the Pen of a Pole . 448 
Friendly or Unfriendly. . 202 
Fripndly Societies . 202, 282, 535 
Ic'urnished House to Let . . 444 


21\9 
4
() 
484 
115 
87 
207 
115 
2CJ7 
3Gg 
471 
403 
5
S 


G.\LL-XUTS. .. . 563 
Ghost of 1I1r. Senior. . . 34 
Gipsy Concert in Moscow . 156 
Girls They Leave Eehind Them 5-14 
Gnats in South America. . 441 
Godpapa Vance.. 323,540 
Gold Vil\'l!er's Notes. . 181 
Gout, The. . . . . 583 
Govet"llment Annuity Bill 202,232 
GOvernment Life Assura.nce 
202. 232 
Grouse Shooting 587 
Grumble, A. . . . . 136 
Grumhleton E'l::tension Hne . 487 
Gnllnbleton, The Black Art in 60 
Gunnill
 ., . 585 
Guns, Story of the 18 


271 
85 


596 
297 
. 136 
63 
2i5 
laG 
S8 
131\ 
437 
269 
11,;2 


HAIR Doctors, the Saxon. 495 
Hankey OIr.) on '.faxation . 558 
Happy Idiots . . . . 5641 
Ha\\b.er (Colonel) upon Shoot- 
ing . 585 
H
ron 4
 
Holr.tein . . " 86 
Holy Land, Travels in the . 467 
Home Dinners.. 63 
Horses, Anecdotes of . . 269 
Horses, nreeds and Races of 319 
Hounds for Hunting. 415 
House to Let .. . 444 
Houses in the Suburbs . . 3n 
Hou
es, l\Ioving into. . . 341 
How Kill/\" Charles's Head was 
Looseued . . 253 


565 
2
0 
. 4i5 
2;:;.) 
253 
19 
5:>7 
137 
4-10 
. 2"0 
. 2:3:3 
301 
. 301 
561 
35 



iv 


COXTENTS. 


How l\[onsieur Flammand 
Dra2'gcd his Chain . 
Huntinl!, }'idd Customs 
Huntsman, The . 


. 22S 
3W,415 
416 


IurOT Asylum at Earlswood . 565 
In(andOutof)theDanishCamp 4"1 
In the Danish Camp. . . 26!J 
India, Where are the Rupees? 174 
Indian Farming. . . . 2i2 
Indian Ladies at an Exhibitioll 2ï.J. 
Indian Raihva,ys . 31 
Insect Life. ., 562,592 
Insects ill the South. 440 
Insurance Company, On the 
BoaI'll of an.. 275 
Irish HOjJes of Freedom 391 
Irolìlnastcrs of Sussex 351 


JEANNE 11alobe . . . 574 
J cbel L sdnlll aud the Dead Sea 41;7 
Joint-Stock Companies . 110 


KITE Flying 


LAST of thl' Ton-Gate 5S8 
L'mrence Sterne . . . 4S9 
Lebanon, 'fhe Christian Pasha 
of . . .. . 367 
I,c!!ends of Denmark 87 
Lesson Wen Learnt. 328 
Life Assurance under Govern- 
ment . . . . 202,232 
Life of Sir John Eliot 25:J 
J,iz1.rds ill Cpylon. 249 
Lobster Salad, A . . . COü 
Lunatic ASJlum at EarIs\vood 565 


JlrIAInNG Tea in India 56 
1\T anna . " 561 

l:tsaJa, The Fortress of 471 
)f echanics' Clubs 149 
l\1cn, Races of.. 128 
1Uerit, Rewards for.. 11 
1I1eyerbeer-A Character. 374 
l\Iinié Rifle. . . . . 19 
l\Iinute Life . . . 562,5Ð2 
l\IolUllllents, How to Relieve 
Loudon of .. . 12 
l\Ioon's Influence, The . . 299 
More Trifles from Ceylon. . 198 
21
1, 293, 400, 418 
:!\1osquitoes , .. . 441 
1Uovin
 into Houses. . 3U 
l\Iusie in the Streets. . . 421 
1\Iy Account with Her Majesty 
79,232 
:nly Excursion Agent 301 
My Newspaper. 473 
NATIONAL Debt, The . . 559 
New Zealanù. Golù Diggini in 4 1
 13 
 
News))aper, 'York of a . 
Nidlt Attack at Faversham 205 
Norway, Sportin
 in 77 
Norwegian Sociality. 517 


ODD Fellows' Societies 
Old Clothes . 
Omnibus Friends 
On Circuit. . . 
011 Firs! . . . 
On the Publie Service 
Organ Nuisance 
Organist Wanted . . 
Our Breeds and Races . 
Our Cousins' Conversation 
Our Little Fl"iends. . 
O
'sters and O
'ster CultUl'e 


PACK of Hounds . 
Pal
stine, Trave1lin
 in . 
Parents, A Few Words to . 


PAGE 


I'AOE I 
Parisian Café . . . . 439 
}'pople 'Ye l\Ieet '.' 
 3!J0 
Philipson, Dr., uponl\Imute LIfe 562 
Pigeon-I1ouse Fort, Dnblin . 395 
l)irates Aboard the" :Flowcry 
Land" . .. 83 
PiI'ates, )Iurders by , 8J. 
Poison Chambel' of Paris 47ß 
l)oisonin
 8,nitem, A . 476 
Pole, From the l'en of a 448 
Polish lnsurcetion. _ 44q 
Poor l\Ian's Club, 'fIle . 119,535 
Poor 1IIan his Own l\Iaster 535 
Post Office Sa"in
s-Bank. 79 
l'rincess Caroline 1\Iatilda 596 
Printing a Newspaper 474 
Promoters of Companies 110 
Puhlic-Houses.. 437 
Public-Houses, Clubs at . lt9, 535 
Pub lie Service, Travelling on . 105 


Street Conveyances . 
Street 1\1 n-r.ic . . . 
Sugp:estions from a Maniac 
Superstition i.n the Country 
Superstitions of Suliac . 
Sussex J rOllmastprs . 
Sword. Weariug Custom 


PAGE 
11 
. 421 
9 
CO 
573 
351 
137 


17 


QUITE Al0t1c. . . . 1, 25, 
4!), 73, 97. 121, Uj, 169, 193, 217, 
2H, 2(,.3, 2S!J, 31
, 3:37, 3ûl, 8S5, 409, 
433,457,481,505, 529,553, 577, 601 


TAXATION of tIlC Conn try 557 
Tea, Jm'ects of. .. 136 
Tea Plantation in India . 56 
Tl'le
raph l'\ewspaper, The 473 
Ten Terrible Days.. 164 
'l'lmnent, Sir E., lIpOll Guns 18 
Three Corpses, The. . . 574 
Three Simple l\IPIl of the East 179 
Thl"ough the lllockade 497 
Toll-Gate, Last of the 588 
Tom l\loody and Co. . 415 
To Let . 'lH 
To Parents . . . . . 512 
Too Late fOT Copen11agen . 546 
Touch of the Gout .. 583 
'l'outing . .. 101 
Trnelling on Circuit . 873 
'l'rifles from Ceyloll. . . 198 
219,293,400,418 
Trincomalie Harbour 219 
Twclve Hints for Us 609 


UNDER the Rose . . . 
Un fattening before the Con- 
quest . . . 
"Unfortunate Princess . 
Upsala, the White Caps of 


42 


R-\CE Horses . 319,415 
Races of ì\len 128 
Railway, 'l'he G
umi,leto
 Ex: 
tension . . . . . 487 
Railways in India . . . 31 
Refreshmellt Houses in England 
437 
Refreshmpnt Houses ill France 437 
Rent in a Cloud . . ISO, 211, 2:35 
260, 2:32, 30J., :>31, 356, 377, 402, 424 
Revenue, The . . . . 560 
Roman Siege of l\Iasada . 471 
Rupee to the Rescue 17,1 
Russiall Cruclty. 452 


232 
40 
. 396 
372 
69 
105 
421 
154 
319 
224 
562 
161 


S \INT Swithin. .. 300 
Sanitary Commission in Ame- 
rica. , .. 328 
Saxon Hair Doctors. . . 49;; 
Saxon Mode of UnfatteniJ.!IÇ . 447 
Schoolmistress and Organist. 15J. 
Sea, 'fell Tl'rriJ.Jle Days at . 165 
Secretary Wanted . 110 
Sensational Williams 14 
Sepia. " . 24!J 
Shakespeare-JIad . . . 345 
ShakespeareNot a 
Ian of Parts 259 
Shakespearo'l'ercentenary . g49 
Shakespeare's House . . 348 
Shakespeare's Sensation Plays 14 
Shi))wrecked, Ten Terrible 
Days - 164 
Shooting . .. . 585 
Silk-Spinning Spiders 509, 502 
Silkworms. . . . . 562 
Sir E. Tennent upon Guns 18 
Snakes in Ceyloll . 198 
Societies of the Poor . . 202 
Soldiers' Wives, Employmcnt 
for. . . . . . 546 
South America, Flies alld In- 
sects of. . . . . 440 
S))ider, The Bird-Catching . 593 
Spider 'fhe Silk-Spinning' 509,562 
Sport on the l\"ameless 
'jeld 'i7 
Sterne, 'l'he Life of . 489 
Stonc-E
'e!;, Story of 519 
Story, Amlt Bena . _ 510 
Stor\", Dr. Pcre/<rine's Page 88 
Story, Godpapa Yallce. 383 
Story of the Guns " 18 
Story, Of the Stone-Eyes. . 5UI 
Story, 'fhr
ugh the Blockade. 497 
S torv, Too Late tbr Copenhagcn 516 
Støry, "Gnder the Rose 42 
Rtratford-llpon-_\\"on 347 
Street J
aleonies 9 
Street Bridges . 9 


4J.7 
. 596 
486 


VA LENTINE 1I1anufactory 36 
Varieties of 1\len .. 128 
Volunteer Night Attack . 205 


WANTED a Schoolmistress 134 
"ranted a Secretary.. 110 
'Ya"ps in South America. . 4U 
Waterspouts off Ceylon. 2!J.3 
\Vax from Trees. 563 
,,'eather Predictions . 301 
Western Africa, Fighting ill 1;)0 
Whipppr-In, The. . 416 
White Caps of Upsala . 4S6 
Whitworth Rifle 21 
Who Are They? 396 
Wigs and Hoops. 137 
Wilderness in Judæa . 471 
'Vine at Public-Houses. . 440 
,Yoman's Example and a Ka- 
tiou's 'York.. . S
8 
Working l\Ien's Clubs . 149 


YF.LLOW Flies. . 
Yenow Jacket Flics . 
1: ou must Dl"ink . . 
Your I\Ioney and Your Life 


. 441 
441 
437 
. 2i5 


415 
467 
512 


POETRY. 
AT Da:rbreak . 
Bp.aten Arm\', A. 
BlossolDin
 Timc 
Boy and the Ring 
Can in Vain, The 
Dirge, A . . 
]
\"es of Alahmlld 
Fàlse Hopc . . 
Guido's Jlod!'l . 
Labours of 'l'hor . 
l\Ia!.dcian's Servant 
Point Blank . 
Rail way Reverie 

onuct . . . 
Sprin
 Rain . 
SumnlPr in the City 
'fhree ]
!>tates 
'1'0 his Love. 
What Was It? . 
When I am Dead 


204 
372 
345 
. 130 
. 564 
. 5'l0 

74 
. 396 
. 299 
1:J 
109 
tJO 
. 181 
. 421 
. 227 
4G6 
4U 
396 
36 
204 



"THE STORY OF OUR LIVES FROM YEAR TO YEAR."-SHAKE
t'EA 


ALL THE YEAR R UND. 
A WEEKLY JOURNAL. \ '-l "- 
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
 


- 


KO. 251.J 


WIT II W II I C II I S IS COR P 0 R 
\. TED II 0 r S E II 0 L D won D S. 


SATUHDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1864. 


[PmCE 2{t. 


QUITE ALO
E. 


--+-- 


BOOK THE FIRST: CIIILDHOOD. 
CHAPTER 1. SEULE AU MONDE. 
Tms is Hyde Park, at the most brilliant mo- 
ment in the afternoon, at the most brilliant 
period in the season. .What a city of magni- 
ficence, of luxury, of pleasure, of pomp, and of 
pride, this London seems to be. Can there be 
any poor or miserable pcople-any dingy grubs 
among these gaudy butterflies? What are the 
famed Elysian fields of Paris, to Hyde Park at 
this high tide of splendour? .What the cavalcade 
of the Bois de Boulogne, or the promenade 
of Longchamps, to the long stream of equi- 
pagcs noiselessly rolling along thc bank of 
the Serpentine? Everybody in London (worth 
naming) is being carried along on wheels, or be- 
strides pigskin girthed o'er hnndred guinea 
horseflesh, or struts in bright boots, or trips 
in soft sandalled prunella, or white satin with 
high heels. There is Royal Blood in a mail 
phaeton. Royal blood smokes a large cigar, and 
handles its ribbons scientifically. There is a 
Dule in the dumps, and behind him is the Right 
Reverend Father, in a silk apron and a shovel- 
hat, who made that fierce verbal assault upon 
his Grace in the Honse of Lords last night. 
There is the crack advocate of the da
-, the suc- 
cessful defender of the yonng lady who was 
accused of poisoning her mamma with nnx 
\ omica in her negus; and there is the 
-oung 
lady herself, encompassed with a nimbus of petti- 
coat, lolling back in a miniature Brougham with 
a gentleman old enough to be her grandfather, in 
a high stock, and a wig dyed deep indigo, Is that 
Anon
'ma driving twin ponies in a low phaeton, 
I a parasol attached to ller whip, and a groom with 
folded arms behind her! Bah! there are so 
many Anonymas now-a-da
 s. If it isn't the 
N amelcss one herself, it is Synonyma, Do you see 
that stout gentleman with thc coal-black beard 
and the tarnished fez cap? That is the S
 rian 
ambassador. 'fhe liver-coloured man in thc dingy 
white turban, the draggletailed blue burnons, 
the 
otton stockings, and the aìpaca nmbrella, is 
the Maronite envoy. The nobleman who is 
driving tlmt four-in-iland, and is got up to such 
a perfection of imitation of the manners and 
costume of a stage-coachman, has a rental of 
I 
'-'==-- 


a hundrcd and thirty thousand a ycar. He 
passes his time mostly among ostlers, engine- 
drivers, and firemen. He swears, smokes a 
cutty pipe, and of his two intimate friends, one 
is a rough rider and the other a rat-catcher. 
Ir. 
Benazi, the /!'l"eat Hebrew Financier, you must 
know: yonder cadaverous, dolorous-looking 
figure in shabby clothes, huddled up in a corner 
of the snuff-coloured chariot, drawn by the 
spare-ribbed horses that look as though they had 
never enough to eat. He is Baron Benazi in 
the Grand-Duchy of Sachs-Pfeifigen, where he 
lent the Grand-Duke money to get the crown 
jewels out of pawn. That loan was the making 
of Ben. There is nothing remarkable about him 
save his nose, which stands out, a hooked pro- 
montory, like the prow of a Roman galley, from 
among the shadows cast by the squabs of the 
slluff-coloured chariot. That nose is a power in 
the state. That nose represents millions. 'Vhen 
Baron Benazi's nose shows signs of flexibility, 
monarchs may breathe again, for loans can be 
negotiated, But, when the Benazian proboscis 
looks stern and rigid, and its owner rubs it with 
an initable finger, it is a sadly ominous sign of 
somcthing being rotten in the state of Sachs- 
Pfeifigen, and of other empires and monarchies 
which I will not stay to name. 
What else? Everything. Whom else? Every- 
body. Dandies and swells, smooth-cheeked and 
heavy-moustached, twiddling their heavy guard- 
chains, caressing their fawn-eoloured favol"is, 
clanking their spurred heels, screwing their e)-e- 
glasses into the creases of their optic muscles, 
haw-hawing vacuous common-places to one an- 
other, or leaning over the rails to stare at aU, to 
gravely wag the head to some, to nod super- 
ciliously to ot.hers, to grin familiarly to a select 
few. Poor little snobs and government clerks 
aping the Grand Manner, and succeeding only 
in looling silly. Any number of quiet sen- 
sible folks surveying the humours of the sce!. 
 
with much amusement, and without envy. Fo- 
reigners who, after a five years' residence in 
London, may bave discovered that Leicester- 
square, the Haym3.rket, and the lower part of 
Regent-street, are not the only promenades in 
London, and so come swaggering and jabbering 
here, in their braid and their pomatum and 
their dirt, poisoning the air with the fumes 
of bad tobacco. An outer fringe of nursemaids 
-then some soldiers listlessly sucking the knobs 


- XI. 


251 



I, 


ALL THE YEAR l{OU
D. 


2 


[February 13, 1864.] 


of their canes, and looling very much as if 
they consiùercd themseh es as flies in ambcr, 
neither rich nor rare, and wondering how the 
deuce thcy got there. As useless as chimne) s 
in summer, seemingly, are these poor strong men 
done up in scarlet blankcting', with three half- 
pence a day spending money, and nobody to lill, 
, and severely punished by illogical magistrates if 
I they tale to jumping upon policemen, or break- 
' ing- civilians' heads with the buckles of their 
belts, through their weariness. Aggravated 
assaults, says the magistrate, as he signs their 
, mittimus, are not to he tolerated. 
Anythiug else in Hyde Park at this high tide 
of the season? 
Iuch: only a score of pages 
would be requireà to describe the scene. All is 
here-the prologue, the drama, the epilogue; for 
here is Life. Life from the highest to the 
lowest rung of the ladder: not only in earliest 
Jouth and extrcme old age, in comely virtue and 
mddled vice, in wisdom and folly, complacency 
and discontent; but-look yonder, far beyond 
the outer fringe-in ntter want and misery. 
There, under the trees, the ragged woman opens 
her bundle, and distributes among her callous 
brood the fmù scraps she has begged at area 
gates, or picked from gutters. There, on the 
sunny sward the shoeless tramp sprawls on his 
brawny back, grinning in impudent muscularity 
from the windows of his tatters in the very face of 
well-dressed Respectability passing shuddering 
by. And the whole "huge foolish whirligig where 
kings and beggars, angels and demons, and stars 
and street-sweepings chaotically whirled," the 
Spirit of Earth surveys and plies his eternal task. 
.Where is my Faustus? There- I cannot read 
the German. Here is :M:onsieur Henri Blaze's 
Frenoh interpretation of the mystic utterances 
of the Esprit de la Terre, "Dans les flots de la 
vie, dans l'orage de l'action, je monte et descends, 
flotte ici et là: naissance, tombeau, mer éternelle 
tissu changeant, vie ardente: c'est ainsi j
 
travaille sur Ie bruyant métier du temps, et tisse 
Ie m:mteau vivant de la Divinité." Sufficiently 
weak, limp, and wish)'-washy, is this French 
Faustus of Monsieur Henri Blaze, I wot. It 
savours of absinthe, and an estaminet where they 
charge nothing for stat.ionery. Turn I now to 
another, and immeasurably greater translator: 
In Being's flood, in Action's storm 
I walk and work, above beneath 
Work and weave ill endless motion . 
I Birth and Death, 
I An infinite ocean; 
A seizing and gi\'ing 
! I ';he fire of living 
'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply 
And weave for Gocl the garment thou seest him by. 
"Of twenty millions," asks the author of Sartor 
i Resart.us," that have read and spouted this 
, thunderspeech of the Erd Geist, are there yet 
! I twenty of us that have learned the meaninO' 
I thereof?" But, Sage, is not the Spirit of Earth 
I the Spirit of Nature? Is not Life the warp 
, aud Humanity the woof over which, spread on 
11_. 
-
 


[Conduct ed b ;--; I 


the "Roaring Loom of Time," the shuttle of II 
production is always plying, and what is 
 a- 
hll'e: a field, a flower, a shell, a seaweed, a bÍL
's 
feather, but the woven garftlCnt that ,,,e s,"{) 
GOD by ? 
1Vhcn Humanity begins to faùe out of H
-de 
Park, and goes home to dinner, or to brood by 
the ingle nook, dinnerless, or betakes itself to 
other holes and corners where it may languish, 
pant.ing, unt.il bread or death come; when only 
a few idlers are to be met in the Ring, or 
Rotten Row, or on the Knigh
sbridge road, you 
sometimes see a solitary horsewoman. She is II 
QUITE ALONE. No groom follo" s: no passing 
dandy ventures to bow, much less to accost, or 
condescends to grin as she passes. A spare 
slight little woman enough, not in her first 
youth-not in her second yet; but, just entre 
chien et loup, between the lights of beauty at 
blind man's holiday time, she might be Venus. 
She wears a very plain cloth habit, and a man's 
hat. I mean the chimney-pot. She has a veil 
often down. Great masses of brown hair are 
neatly screwed under her hat. She rides easily, 
quietly, undemonstratively. If her habit blow 
aside you may see a neat boot and a faultless ankle, 
wreathed in white drapery, but no sign of the 
cloth and chamois leather riding trouser affecta- 
tion. She carries a light switch with an ivory 
handle, which she never uses. That tall lustrous 
black mare never came out of a livery stable you 
may be sure. She pats and pets, and makes much 
of her, and very placidly she paces beneath her 
light weight. The groom keeps his distance; 
she is always alone: quite alone. 
"1Vho the doose is that woman on the black 
mare, one sees when everybody else has left the 
Row?" asks Fainéant number one of Fainéant 
number two at the Club. 
"Sure I don't know. Seen her hundreds of 
times. Ask Tom Fibbs. He knows everybody." 
Tom Fibbs is asled, and takes a "sensation 
header" at a guess. 
"That's the Princess Ogurzi, who was knouted 
at the office of the Secret Police, by Count Orloff's 
private secretary and two sergeants of the In- 
nailoffsky guards, for sending soundings of the 
harbour of Helsingfors to Sir Charles Napier." 
" Won't do, Fibbs. Try again, The Princess 
Ogurzi died at Spa the year before last, and the 
whole story about the knout turned out to be a 
hoax." 
"Then I am sure I don't know," answers Tom 
Fibbs (who is never disconcerted when detected 
in a fiction) ; "I give her np in despair. I\-e 
been trying to find out who she is, for months. 
She is always alone; quite alone. A Brougham 
meets her at Apsley House, aIôld the groom takes 
her mare away. I asked him one day who she 
was, and he called me Paul Pry, and threatened 
to knock me down. She dines, sometimes, 
quite alone, at the Castlemaine Hotel in Bond- 
street. The waiters think, either that she's a 
duchess, or that she's mad. She's the only woman 
who cver dined alone in the coffee-room at the 



!I 
Castlemaine, but nobody dares to be rude to her. 
l'\"c seen her at the Slar and Gartcr at. Rich- 
'I n- ond, at Greenwich, at Brighton, at V cntnor, 
0[1 Paris, alwa)s quite alonc. She's an enigma, 
'I She's a Sphinx." 
"Is she demi-mondc?" Thus, one Insolent. 
"N obody knows. 
 obody cver presumes to 
speak to her, and she never was seen to speak 
to an) body sa\>e her groom and the \\ aiters. 
She goes to the Opera; to the theatres; always 
quite alone. Upon my word, I think that woman 
would turn up at a prize fight: alone. I've scen 
her myself at Ascot." 
As Tom Fibbs said this, a very tall angular 
well-dressed gentleman, with grizzled hair, and 
close upon fifty )ears of age, who had been 
sitting in an arm-chair close by, hastily flUll
 
down thc Globe he was glaucing over, darting- a 
I I by no means complimentary loelk at .Mr. Fibbs, 
and strode out of the room. 
"I think Billy Long must know the Mysterious 
Stranger," languidly remarked Failléant number 
one, as the door closed. "He knows all sorts 
II of monstrous queer people, and he didn't half 
seem to like what Fibbs said." 
I I " Very likely. He's a cranky fellow." 
" Very rich, isn't he?" 
"Disgustingly so. .What he wants in parlia- 
II ment with twenty thousand a year, I can't make 
out. lie never speaks, and passes most of his 
time in the smoking-room." 
"Twenty thousand. That's a tremendous 
screw for a Catholic baronet." 
"Yes: but he was as poor as Job till his 
father died. Painted pictures, or went on the 
i I stage, or turned billiard-mm-h,er, or did something 
low for a living, I'm told; but he's all right now." 
As Thomas Fibbs, Esq., member of the Com- 
mittee of the Uuited Fogies Club, of the Turn- 
pike Ticket Commutation Commission (sabry 
15001. per annum, hours of business 3 to ! past 3 
P.M., 3 times a week, 3 months in the year), was 
selecting his umbrella from tlle stand about 
twenty minutes subsequent to this conversation, 
; I preparatory to 1001.ing in at the Bur1.e and Hare 
Club, to which he also belongs, and which is 
II ) ounger and more convivial than the :Fogies, he 
found Sir -William Long, Bart, :M.P., in the act 
I of lighting one of those cigars \\>hich hc was 
almost continually smoking. 
"Might I trouble :Mr. Fibbs," said the 
baronet, in a slow and rather hesitating tone, 
"to refrain in promiscuous conversation from 
hazarding conjectures as to the iàentity of a lady 
with whom I am acquainted, and who, I can 
assure him, is a most respectable and exemplary 
person ?" 
I " Certainly-oh, certainly, Sir William," starn. 
'I mered Fibbs. " I meant no offence. I'm sure I 
II didn't," And, so saying, he buttoned up his 
i overcoat, and trottcd down the steps of the }'ogies 
I considerably flurried. Sir 1Yilliam Long had 
I ' been a member of the club for five years, and 
this was the first time he had e\er spo1.ell to 
i Fibbs. That worthy, however, recovered himself 


Cha.I"leA Dickens.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[February 13, 18U] 


3 


by the time he reached the Burke and Hare 
and hinted as mysteriously as mendaciously, that I 
"Billy Long"-he called him Dilly-had told 
him all about the Sphinx of Rotten Row. 
" No offcnee," murmured the tall baronet, 
as puffing his cig"ar he strode down Pall-l\Iali. "I 
àare say you didn't mean any. l\1ischief-makers 
never do, and burn down the tcmple at Ephesus II 
"ith the best intentions in the world. Ah, 
Lily!" he continued, bitterly, "how long will 
you give all these idle tongues some grounds to 
tattle? How long will you persist in being 
quite alone ?" 
Still quite alone. 1Vho was this female 
Robinson Crusoe? 'Tis a question which I 
shall endeavour in the course of the next fe\\ 
hundred pages to solve. 


CHAPTER II, 13ETWEEN HAMMERSMITH .AND 
CliISWICK-LANE. 
ONE bright afternoon, in the summer of 1836, 
the whole fashionable world of London had 
chosen to abandon Hyde Park, Pall- Mall, Regent- 
street, and its other llabitual re
orts, and to 
betake itself to the flower-show at Chiswick. 
Probably about one per cent of the ladies who 
thus patronised the exhibition of the Ro) al 
Horticultural Society cared one doit about the 
products collected in the conscrvatories and the 
tents. The Botanical Revival ("hich owes so 
much to Puseyism and the Tracts for the Times) 
was then but in its infancy; and, besides, a lifc 
passed in the contemplation of artificial flowers 
is not very favourable to the study of real flowers. 
People went to this great annual garden crush 
less to look at the roses in the pots than at those 
on the chceks of other people; and fuchsias on 
their branches were at a discount with them, as 
objects of attraction, compared with fuchsias 
that grew in white satin bonnets. Yes, ladies, 
whitc satin bonnets were worn in 1836; and for 
dresses even that sheeny material had not incurred 
the cruel proscription under which it seems to 
languish in 1863. 
But if one in a hundred among the ladies were 
floriculturally inclined, what shall be said of the 
gentlemen? Did one in a thousand trouble him- 
self concerning roses, or fuchsias, or geraniums, 
or pelargoniums? It did not much matter. 
People went to Chiswick because other people 
went to Chiswick. It was the thing, and a very 
nice, amusing, and fashionable thing, too. 
So all the jobbed horses in London were 
spruced up, and currycombed, and polished; 
and all the footmen underwent dry cascades 
through the medium of the flour-dredger; and 
all the grandees in Grandudoo stepped into 
their carriages, and were wafted rapidly to 
Chiswick. 'What pails of water had been dashed 
over plated axles in hay and clover-smelling 
mews behind the mansions of the great! .What 
spun-glass or floss silk wigs had been smoothed 
over the crania of ruddy double-chinned coach- 
men! ,\' hat fashionable milliners lmd sat up all 
night to complete the radiant flower-show 



4 [February 13, ]864.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUXD. 


[Conductecl by 


toilettes: the subordinates wearily wishing for I foliage, so delightfully as to make the specula- 
morning to come and the dolorous task to be got tive \vayfarer ponder on tlle possibilit.y of tllCrc 
through; the principals uttcring devout aspira- having been child-trees among- tbe horticultural 
tions that their bills might be paid at the end of phenomena of the garden of Eden; their silver 
the season. If poor :Mademoiselle Ruche, of laughter, and the ringing clack of their chubby 
Mount-street, Grosvenor-square, did not obtain hands as they smote them in applause, made the 
a settlement of her small account (IJO!l. 3s. 6d.) same wayfarers (if they happened to be philan- 
from the :Marchioness of Cæurdesart, when the thropists) hope that those argentine tones were- 
season and the session were over, and did in never turned to "ails of distress, nor that same 
consequence go bankrupt; if the flower-show sound of applause derived from cruel smacks 
was to unhappy l\Iiss Pincothek, the "first administered by their pastors and masters. The 
hand," the seed - time for the harvest whieh domestic scrvants, likewise, along the line of 
death real)ed next spring; or if the night before road, if they had not had a half-holida
- conceded 
Chiswick "as to Jane Thumb, t.he apprentice to them voluntarily, took one without leave, and 
girl, the last straw that broke the consumptive appeared at many up-stairs windows in much 
camel's back-what were such little mischances beribboned caps, and with lips ceaselessly mobile, 
in comparison with the immense benefit which of now in admiration, now in disparagement of the 
course accrues to the community at large from male and female fashionables whom the carriages 
all fashionable gatherings? That the few must bore by. Nor were their mistresses, 
-oung, old, 
suffer for the benefit of the many, is an axiom and middle-aged, employed in a very different 
admitted in the conduct of all human affairs. manner at the drawing-room and l)arlour case- 
According to the rules of fashionable polity, the ments, from which points of espial they indulged 
many must suffer for the benefit of the few. in criticisms identical in spint, if not in language, 
There could not have been a more magnificent with those of the upper regions, and bearing 
day for the holding of a patrician festival. It mainly on how beautiful the gentlemen looked, 
had rained the preceding year, and snowed the and what frights the women were! Although, 
year before that; but the show of 1836 was thus much must be stated in mitigation: That 
favoured by the elements in an almost unprece- while they animadverted on the bad make of the 
dented degree. Although the gracious Lady toilettes, and the awkwardness or ugliness ofthe 
who now rules over this empire was then but a ladies, they did not "ithhold warm commenda- 
pretty young princess, it was really "Queen's tion from the quality of the garments themselves, 
weather" with ,vhich the visitors to Chiswick Enthusiastic admiration for a moire antique is 
were for a brief afternoon endowed. One cannot quite compatible with intense dislike of thc lady 
have everything one's own way, of course, and inside it. It is one thing to like a dress, but 
although the sky was T"ery blue, the sun very another to like the wearer. 
warm and bright, and the summer breeze very The lower orders were determined also to have 
gentle, there was rebellion undmfoot; and if the their part in this great afternoon, Allover the 
worm in the dust didn't turn when trodden upon, world, when sunshine is once given, the principal 
the dust itself did, even to rising up and eddying part of a festival is secured. This is why fhe 
I ' \ about, and covering the garments of fashion with Italians are so laz)'. As it is almost alwa
 s sunny 
I pulverulent particles, and half choking every in Italy, the sun-worshippers (and it is astonish- 
man, woman, and child who happened to be in ing howman
'Ghebirs there are among Christians) 
the open bet" een Hyde Park Corner and Kew are nearly alwa
-s doing nothing, or celebrating 
Bridge, Saint Somebody's festa, which is next door to 
The young ladies and gentlemen belonging to it. We see so little of the sun in England, that 
the various colleges, academies, seminaries, and we are bound to make the most of him whenever 
educational institutions in the high road from be favours us "ith an appearmlCe. The trading 
Hammersmith Broadway to Turnham-green -for classes on the road to Chiswick enjoyed their 
of course there could be no such vulgar things holidays according to the promptillgs of their 
as schools in a main thoroughfare, such low several imaginations. One abandoned his shop 
places being only to be found in by-lanes where to the care of an apprentice, and took a stroll 
children are cuffed and kicked, and don't learn towards the Pachhorse, where he met other 
calisthenics, and have fe,-ers, and don't have tradesmen similarly minded, and was, perhaps, 
French lessons-the fortunatc little bo
 s and after many admiring comments on the carriages, 
girls attached to those g
-nmasia had a half- the horses, the footmen, and the fashionables, 
holiday on the flower-show afternoon, just as induced to stroll back again, diverge from the 
their tiny brethren and sisters at Clapham and main road, and take a boat at Hammersmit.h 
Mitcham are exempted from lessons and per- Suspension Bridge for a quiet row Ul) the river. 
mitted to be all eyes for the passing cavalcade Another (but he would be inasmall way of busi- 
on the Derby Day. 'Thcir shiny well-washed ness) gravely instructed the wife of his bosom 
faces were visible over the copings of many to place a row of chairs outside his domicile, 
brick walls; their eyes shone brighter than and there, enthroned with the partner of his 
, many brass plates whereon the academical de- jO)S and his olive-branches, would smoke his 
grees of their preceptors were engraved; their pipe and take his placid glass, excl1anging the 
l,leasant countenances were embowered in green time of day and the news of the afternoon with 


!I 



[February 13, ISC4.] 5 


ALL THE YEATI ROUXD. 


Charles Dickens.] 


neighbours similarly employed, and otherwise 
behaving in quite a patriarchal manner. A 
third, with an e) e to business, wafered up san- 
guine placards relative to tea and coffee and hot 
water alwa)s ready; or displayed in front of his 
establishment, boards on tresscls covered '" it h 
fair white cloths, and creaking, if 110t groanin/!, 
beneath the weight of half-cut hams, fruit tarts, 
buns, and ginger beer. For do what :Fashion 
will to keep itself exclusive, and have the cream 
of thin
s, the common people will not be banÜ,hed 
from thc festivals altogethcr. They will peep 
over the palings or through thc chinks thereof; 
they will peep round the carriages and criticise 
the occupants; and what can :Fashion, itself, do 
more? Often, the common see the best of the 
fireworks; and the music of the brass bands, 
coming from a distance, falls more sweet],}' 
on their ears than of those who are privi- 
:Leged to stand within the inner enclosurc, and 
to be half deafened by the blasting and the 
braying. The purest plcasures in life are the 
cheapest ones. Once the writer .knew a gentle- 
man of a lively and convivial turn, but whose 
circle of acquaintances was limited, and who 
was, besides, so chronic an invalid as to be almost 
permanently confined to the house. At the back 
there was another house, almost always full of 
company, and where balls, supper-parties, and 
other merry meetings, were continually going on. 
1t was the valetudinarian philosopher's delight 
to sit sipping his sassafras tea at his open window 
and cry " Hear, hear," with due attention to the 
proprieties of time and place, to the eloquent 
speeches, and sometimes to join in choruses 
when songs \\ ere sung in the convivial chambers 
whose lights glimmered in the distance. No 
pleasure could be cheaper; yet he cnjoyed it 
amazingly. There was no trouble about dressing, 
about being introduced, about meeting people 
he didn't care for. lIe went away when he 
liked, without having to make, perhaps, a men- 
dacious assurance to the hostess of having spent 
a delightful evening; and he rose next morning 
without a hcadache, or, worse still, the loss of 
his heart to that pretty girl in blue. 
H some of the traders just glanced at did not 
make holiday in honour of the sun; if one 
crusty -looking cheesemonger denounced the 
whole proceedings as rubbish, and another 
secreted himself in his back parlour to brood 
over his speech at the next vestry, or Board of 
Guardians meeting; or if another, the worst 
of all, shut himsclf up to grumhle over his 
books and hard times, and scold his wife and 
children, and curse becausc thc people outside 
were enjoying thcmselves-what \\ ere these but 
I the little flaws and specks that must needs be 
fouud in the brightest social diamond! If e\'ery- 
j I body were happy, what good would there be in 
I. expatiating on the blcssings of happiness? It 
II is certain, howevcr, that the grumblers this 
. sunny aftcrnoon were in a grave minority. 
i Troops of children "ho did not belong to 
j' scminarics or educational"institutes, and perhaps 


came out of the by-lanes before alluded to, 
invaded the footwa), screamed with delight at 
the processional pageantry, and endangered 
themselves, as usual, under the carriages with- 
out gett ing run o\' cr. It is certain that the 
offspring of Want very rarely enjoy a ride in 
}'ortune's chariot, 
et arc they for ever hanging 
on behind, running close to the wheels, and 
diving beneath the horses' hoofs. 

lany persons of grave mien and determined 
appearance-peripatetic, not stationary, traders 
-were turning the sunshine and its consequent 
holiday to commercial account. 'I'here did not 
seem any great likelihood, at the first blush, of 
the Court Guide, the J3lue Book, the Peerage or 
the Baronetage, descending from their equipages 
to purchase lucifer-matches or knitted babies' 
caps, or to partake of jam tarts, gingerbread 
nuts, or apples three a penny; and the numbers 
of spcculations entered into towards that end, on 
the foot\\ay, must have appeared to the super- 
ficial as rash in conception and pregnant "ith 
disaster. But the peripatetic merchants knew 
perfectly well what they were about. There 
was somebody to buy everything they had to 
sell, and they sold accordinóly. Somebody was 
the great wandering fluctuating stream of poor 
people; and poor people are always buying 
somctlùng, and must perforce have ready money 
to pay for it. More remarkable was the fact 
that all the taverns and beer-shops 011 the line of 
road were full of guests; the men all smoking 
pipes and drinking beer; the vast majority 
of the women holding babies in one hand and 
Abernethy biscuits in the other. W by was 
this? 'Vhy is this? 1Vhy ,,,ill it be so, if augury 
can be hazarded, in ages to come? This flower- 
show was not a popular gathering. The tickets 
were ten shillings each. The people had nothing 
to do with it. 'I'hey just took a good long 
stare-not of envy, be it understood, but of lazy 
and listless curiosity, at the fine folks in the 
carriages, and then trooped into the nearest 
public-house for beer, tobacco, baby-nursing and 
biscuit - munching. There is surely a dreary 
sameness about the amusements of the English 
people; and, for aught we know, the s,}'stem 
adopted of rigorously excluding them from any- 
thing that is to be seen, and fencing them off by 
barriers and reserved scats, just as though they 
were unc1ean animals, from every trumpery 
section of infinite space where something humanly 
considered grand is going on, may havc been 
carried a little t.oo far. Gentility has robbed the 
poor play-goer of his best seats in the pit, and 
made them into stalls. The gallery even, once 
specially appropriated to the gods, has now its 
ampl1Ìtheatre stalls. The railway formula has 
penetrated everywhere. All is first, second, and 
third class, from refreshment-rooms to funerals. 
Neither pit-stalls nor railway formulæ '\ere 
thought much of, however, in the year '36, and 
the honest folk enjo,}'ing their outing, took tbeir 
pipes and malt liquor, nursed their bantlings and 
ate their biscuits because there was nothing else 



ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


!I 
I 
I 
i 


6 [February 13, 18M.) 


for them to do, and without asking t.he reason 
why. The present age is always asl-.ing- 1he 
reason "h
r, and may be much the better for it ; 
-which I hope it is. 
H 'Was about five o'clock in the evening when 
the gardens at Chiswick were most thronged, 
and "hen a Babel of silvery tongues echoed 
on malachite la" n and gravel walk, t.hat a 
gentlcman's cabriolet of the pcriod-a "cab," as 
.it was \ cry modestly named (at tIle risk of being 
confounded with the plebeian high-hung saffron- 
hued vehicles with a seat for the driver at one 
side), passed swiftly by Turnham-green, and so 
to the gardens of the Horticultmal Society. It 
was a faultless cab; exquisitely appointed. 
s}Jining in its evcr)' llart like a pair of Wel- 
lingtons fresh home from the tip-top maker's, 
The tiger was a Lilliputian phenomenon, with 
aplmrellHy three tightly -fittin!:i natural skins: one 
of leather, bifurcated for his nethers: another 
of pepper and salt cloth for his coat: a third of 
jettJ"-black surmounted wit.h brown streaks for his 
top boots. Portions of his epidermis they must 
have been; for although, if artificial, he might 
have got them on, it was beyond the range of 
human possibility that he could ever get thf'm 
off. Stay, an addit.ional article must be mentioned 
in regard to his buckskin gloves. With shining 
livery buttons, \\ ith a tight little belt round his 
tight little waist, and a hat bound with silver 
cord, this domestic" as surelJ" the tig-hte::,t tiger 
that ever was seen. 
He leaped down, like an elfin 
room as he was, 
when the cab stopped, and in three bounds was 
at thc head of the great brown champing horse. 
Then the apron was flung- open, and a gentle- 
man descended, and said, "Drive back to 
town!" ,rhereupon the nimble tiger skimmed, 
so to speak, in the airiest manlier to the vacant 
J)lace, 
athered up the reins in his tiny buek- 
slinned hand, gave the \\ hip a gentle flourish 
about the plated harness of the brown horse, and 
departed at an agile trot. 
The late occupant, and, it is to be presumed, 
owner, of this vehicle, having been duly bmshed 
down by one of the red jackets who had come 
specially from Pall- :Mall for the occasion, pre- 
sented his ticket and entered the gardens. He 
was a tremendous dandy, in an age of dandies. 
, II The Brummel t)-pe was not ) et extinct. The 
heavy languid dragoon-lile dandy, with his loose 
clothes, looser slouch, and pendent moustaches, 
had not yet made his appearance. The only 
things loose about the dandy, then, were his 
morals, The owner of the cabriolet was the 
brisk, alert, self-satisfied dandy of the time. The 
tailor, the shirtmaker, tbe boot maker, the stay- 
i I maker, the hairdresser, could do no more for him 
I than they had done. They had exhausted their 
faculties in adorning him. Another lappel to the 
coat, another curl to the coiffure, another whiff 
of perfume about him, and the dandy would have 
been spoiled, As it. was, he ,\ as as perfect as a 
man could be with three underwaisteoats, a veQ 
high shouldered higher collared coat with veh et 


[Conducted by 


collar and cuffs, lavender pantaloons very fig-hUy 
strapped over l}is boots, a hat with a turned up 
hrim, a voluminous shirt frill with diamond studs 
down the breast, white kid gloves, and a gold- 
headed cane with a long silk tassel. 
Dress makes up so much of the dandiacal entity 
that the descriptionofthis ineffable person's coun- 
tenance has been temporarily overlooked. It 
was worth looking at. A dandy face, but not 
a monk
yfied, not a simpering' one. His age 
seemed to be between thirty and forty; but 
it was evident that at no very remote period he 
had been an eminently handsome man. His 
teeth were beautiful. His hands and feet '\\ ere 
in a concatenation accordingly. He had a 
charming red and white complexion. His 
hair was black and glossy, and admirably ad- 
justed. So, too, with his mathematically cut 
whiskers and chin tuft. Moustaches he had 
none. When he smiled, he showed the beautiful 
teeth a good deal; when his glove was off, he 
made a liberal display of the emerald and diamond 
rings on his dainty white hand. There was no 
finding any fault with the man's oub\ ard appear- 
ance, for albeit expensively dressed, and with a 
great gold chain meandering over his cut velvet 
waistcoat, and a double diamond pin in his 
cravat, he looked from head to foot a gentleman. 
It should nnallv be mentioned that there were 
two trifling drm;backs to his good looks. Across 
his left cheek, almost from the corner of the 
mouth to the eye, there ran a very deep scar, 
which when he talked turned livid. His eJ es, 
too, "ere very colourless and sunken, and there 
were brownish rings beneath them. But for 
these the dandy would Lave been an Adonis. 
He was evidently very well known. He 
stopped to speak to ladies belonging to the élite. 
He was asked whether he had been to the 
duchess's ban; whether he was going to the 
marchioness's rout. His replies were affirma- 
tive. He was tapped on the arm with pretty 
parasols and scent bottles, and scolded prettily 
for not having executed some commission, ac- 
cepted some invitation, joined some junketing 
recently afoot. Clearly our dandy was very 
popular among the sex. Nor did the men treat 
him with less favour. 
There came up my Lord Carlton, a wild rake 
of the time, and deep player, with little Harry 
Jermyn, his admirer, crony, toad
, on his arm. 
" How do, Griffin ?" was his lorùship's saluta- 
tion. "Monsous baw stopping here. Confounded 
military band blows roof of one's }}ead off. Come 
awar, Griffin, and have a hand at piquet at my 
rooms in to\\ n." 
"I would with pleasure," Griffin ans".ered
 
"but 1'\ e a little business to transact in this 
neighbourhood before I return." 
"Business?" echoed his lordshil)' "Business at 
a flo\\ er-show? Dooced queer 1) lace for business, 
Griilin. You hm'en't turned marl.et gardener?" 
" 11 y a des Hems animées," quoth little Mr. 
J erill) n. "All the Chiswick roses don't grow on 
bushes." . 




 
I 
I 
I 
i 


Charles Dickens.] 


ALL THE YEAR ItOrXD. 


"N one are gro\\ ing ehe" here hereabouts for 
me," smiled the dandy. lifting his hat for the 
hundredth time to l\. passing party of laùies. 
"Then what are you going to stop here for, 
"hen it's time to go back to town?" Lord Carl- 
ton pursued, elevating his e)cbrows in pardon- 
able amazement. " Going to look at a horse ?" 
" No." 
"Goin"" to dine at lliehmond ?"-his lordship 
said "W
lllnond," but it would bc both tedious 
and indecorous to givc typographical expression 
to his defective ling-uals. 
".Ko. I lunched very late, just beforc coming 
I ùown; ant! if I dine at all, it will not be till 
ni".ht ." 
I. 
( Never mind, my ho
, ) ou'll get plcnty of 
I suppcr at Crocky's," :Mr. Jerm
n here cut in. 
A slight cloud passed aCl'O:.S thc whitc forehead 
of the dand), but he chaseël it away with au airy 
to:.s of the head. 
"Of which club," hc bl:mdly rctortcd, "
Ir. 
Jcrmyn is not, I fear, a membcr?" 
"Got nothing but black balls," his lordship 
added, Ly way of confirmation, and with a loud 
chuckle. "Poor fello'\\-, his proposer stayed 
a'\\ay, and his 
econder came from Scotland on 
purpo
e to pill Lim. T]lere was one white 
ball, but that" as from a fcllow who '" as short- 
sighted, and popped his pill into the ,\ rong side." 
"Mr. Jerll1)n ,\ill have, I trust, better luck 

ext ti,me," 

marlcd Griffin. "Had I not been 
III ParIs- 
" At :Fraseati's ?" intcrposed his noLle friend. 
" In Paris," he continued, taking no notice of 
the interruption, "
lr. Jerm
n might ha\e 
reckoned on my humble support. I should have 
been delighted to find him one of us." 
"Yes, I dare say you would," acquiesced Lord 
Carlton. "Harry's a \"ery good fellow, and Las 
plenty of feathers ready to be plucled, before 
he is fit to be made into a compote de pigeons, 
You'd have given him two white balls, I'm surc 
)'ou would, Griffin." 
"Oh yes, I'm sure you would," repeated 1.11'. 
Jermyn. The assurance was double-barrelled- 
susceptible of tu 0 meanings. Mr. Henry J ermJ n 
hated the dandy for belonging to a club to \\ hich 
he had himself failed to procure admittance, 
although he "ell knew that the honorary co- 
membership might prove in the long run costly 
if not ruinous. Yet he wonld. have jumped for 
joy, had the exquisite addressed as Griffin offered 
to propose him. 
"Never mind, Harry," his good-natured lord- 
ship obsen ed. <<Safe to gct in next time. Can't 
kcep you out. 13esides," he added, turning to 
the dandr, <<the fellows made a mista1.e after 
all. They took Harry for big Jack J erll1} n - you 
know big Jack-the racing man who was in the 
Eighth, and le":tllted after Kewmarlet the year 
beforc last. They thought it was all up with 
Jack, and didn't care about having :t rook in the 
dovecot. By Jove! If they knew that HalTY 
was to have all his grandmother's mone\-how 
II old is she, Harry 1 -ho'd ha "0 been elccted nmnU- 


[L.Jrullry 13, ISC4.] 


7 


mousl}, and }'eceived with a salute of tv. cDt
r -I-'De 
guns." 
<<111', Crockford must ha, e shed tears "hen 
informed of the sad truth," rcmarlcd thc dandy, 
with sardonic politem""5. "Ho\\C\"er, fortune 
will male amcnds. I hope to mcct Mr, Jcrmyn 
as a fellow-member at supper in St. James's- 
street as soon after his grandmamma's decease 
as possible. And the dandy, lifting his hat for 
thc hundred and tenth time that aftemoon, 
strolled awar. 
"Monsous "ell-prescrved man, Griffin Blunt," 
Lord Carlton said, looling TI ith carcless admi- 
ration aft cr his retreatiug friend; "wears very 
well. 
Iust be forty, if he's a day." 
" He looks queer ahout the c} cs," 
1r. J crmyn 
\ enturecl to observe, in mild disparagrment, 
"Late hours," explained. Ills lord:.ltip, who 
gcnerallr "ent to bed ahout four in the morning 
and rose about three in thc afternoon. " Griffin 
is a shocking night-crow." 
".What do they call him Griffin for, and \\ ho 
is he ?" 
"How amazingly raw )"ou are!" exclaimed 
his lordship, elevating his e}ebrows in some sur- 
prise. "Don't} ou know that Frank J3lunt goes 
by the name of Griffin, because he used to wcar 
a scaly green-silk coat" hen he drove his eurricle 
at the timc of the Regenc}'? Dooced queer 
time it must ha"e been, too, and dooced queer 
fellows. Should have liked to belong to that 
set, only they drank so dooced hard." 
<< Has hc any money? How does he get his 
living ?" 
"How should I know? P'r'aps he's his grand- 
mother's heir, if hc hasn't sold the rcversion. 
You'd better ask him. He's apt to turn crusty 
sometimes. He got that scar on his cheek in 
'15, in a duel with a French dragoon officer in 
Paris. Griffin Blunt \\ as in garrison at Ver- 
sailles' and came up to dine in the Palais Ro}"al, 
and the dragoon picked a quarrel with him about 
Waterloo-they were alwa}s picking quarrels, 
those French fellows, at that time-and Griffin 
knocked him down; and then they fought" ith 
sabres in the Bois de Vineennes, and Grill:ìn had 
his pretty face laid open; but, b
 Jove! he killed 
thc dragoon." 
" And what does he do now?" 
".What a lot of questions you ask! I'm not 
his godfathers and. his godmothers, 1 bclie\ e he 
sold out after the peace, and went to India to 
grow indigo, or buy opium, or shake the pagoda- 
tree, or something of that sort. 'Veil, he came 
back, and he's been on town these ten years; at 
least, I've lnown him ever since I came up from 
Oxford." 
"Est-il mauvais sujet p" 
lr. Jerm)"ll aslcd. 
" I belie\e. he's about as bad as bad can be," 
coolly replied Lord Carlton. << He's worse than 
I am, and. that's saying a good deal." 
<< And about his mone)'?" 
"Don't lnow an
 thing about it. lIe li\ c:) 
high, and must spend three thousand a ,\car. 
Charming little house- in Curzon-street. Goes 


II 


[ I 
" 


I' 
I 


I 
II 


, 
I: 
" 
II 
'I 



-s.. 
] 


c - 
 t! 


ALL THE YF
 ROI.
D. 


!" and b'
 a:ooi -..) It I-u I I If I () J. ,.. ite T or D, I 5'tould 
L .. \1 r" V'l"h l.... "Ce m L be in,"; I 
o ',. B yal R'-1.

 5 "00n
 

. 
I m. Inm ,.. - I). T(- me wh"'re 
L m.&lT Dr- -'re"' --{ I W1 :z -
 L:n a 
 . 
. Y n J! B,.. J. ! () Y{,..,.d...uLk yc, u.. - 
\. J I t.) 
 :y my . '\ll1- <<"'0 I .. Y u re an ambi '01.0.5 fe 0...., G
, . vc 
d 
I.. IJ". G. - n E: r,..er 
 an..'" 
.wo1a 
 
 rewd nO"RL and ne

per writer, 
-= 
-l,'" re':; nobot:y in Yay:..ir W1ùr 
afi'. \ù whom Blunt rometim{" imp3rted 
0....... .0 - 
 L:w t. C - ieu-=-oonJUer-es.. remark.. You 
m ,,"ell 
b tt the vind, ar..d in a 

orl heM III back 
you to li lance the be..; but you',..e no 
t, 
y boy, and you'J founder. Take myad:rice, 
if y -;J. baTen't 13id by for s rainy day, borrow 
JOIDebody e:
-5 umbre1h, ud dcn't 
ITe it back 
:aiD." 
- You are an fi
...l mol'a-," thus lli. 
.B uno, 'With a r1ea....ant sneer. '..ire you, too, 
ready for the wrath of Jup-ter Plurius: ' 
c. S eTer mind/' re rted "\fhi
Jft'. vho \I"3.S 
n lOriOLY I1Q worth a penny, and in dire diffi- 
CUi 'e::;. 'Le me alone; and I s
-1l turn up 
trnm ..J Te _ E n
n- bird feathers ILs nest in a 
dCereni manner. . The vi
est one after all i5. 
perhap
 he vho ne,..er troubles himself v: h 
making a 11........ of h:..s own, but pops into ::.Ol.1e- 
body è... '5. There are:; ill a few &necuresleft, 
tht COL unded Reform BilP' -lfhip:o aff w-as a 
..amK.lt ConservariTe-" notvit:'s and.Ïn!!". The 
vind Ì3 tempered to the 5 orn lamb, and-the old 
ranns of the Trea..ury Bench will proTide for 
the æ....-r :;
e!' of senn yea.
' s..andinc'" S ch 
vas the vorld1y w.,..'Jom of :Yr. 1\hi
-aJr, w-ho 
h
ea:en hi..... terms · me,..ears before at his own 
expe......e, vi ..1 the firm and fixed resoh-e of e3..in
 
a 
-re.... ! more te
 one day or ano her, 
at t' e expe.--'=>e of the country. 

 rs:..úf ..-3.:> aT the flower-show, and re- 
mac
ed to seTeral ac.jU3Ïntance.s that he neTer 
sav Gr:5l B:un
 looDn!!' better. .. How he 
mana...aes 
., he continu
 <<I C;U1't 
--ine. 
I wi...5h be'd 
Te me hb recipe for living a- the 
me of t\tO or three tho
d a year upon 
nc,...m" :. II 
c Sdãkes 
 elbow," 
.:
te;l purple-faced 
Ca
..sin 1IaL_"er, do hated HJUllt. 
.. Perhar...... - at'1
e-:æd "\Thip5
 m h a 

, 
<<and is lucky. "io-h me that s;.ee-es of 
pa..
,,:5 <;: alw-ay:> rroTed t
e CO"' iesT Cif 
.:e;sea...
 . .. 
..1nd so tJ-e 1fhir.'_ '=vent on in the cr=<::..,;c..: 
Ga,.I ". 
ov s.cæ;:
'" 
:rocco seized a 
ite- 
Crt anecA ,te, twirled and t"\Tis4-
 and 
ent i- 
.-- . -mi 
 e erd of t 
e !:!'3l'dens to the othe-. 

.. ca:::," UjJ a VCì13ll'S reputation, and. 
oed it in w b=-\e - and - 
k thnu;h tte 
-ummer lean:s. I was t!J.e merri
 kind of 
..onl-walL" :; ima.. ::u.ble j and IleT"er a sneer, 
an ID-"J.er.lo, a r"l:ed bon mot, but found a 
partt r. And in he mi
 of 1 aIL the b3nd Jf 
tle Royal Bor Guar6 Blue brayed forth E_ i 
Ia Tromba Tth tremodous and sonorous e . 
rhaL. "'\Tha1 did i all m ier to them 
 I 
1r'aS t eir bu-- 
 to b'Jv, and dey ble.. as 
--b. ey \1"C Ij hue blown for ffer. So tbe 
- --=--=- .- 3 L
 a c eck, a mor. So L.e 


r 


T. Elurt 
 a 
 ID.Ire of Gn- 
wo -- Ð W WF took him. u
 and lld 
 
1... a er h - parI T
 
 I am. . d it 
f but 1'3 eMbarra5.sin_ cu
 m 0" 

 of world 0 -do. TheT 

 "T'IY &0 rvt ;'
Lh him, f r i 1I"3S L.
 
. 
 tha :Yr. :Blurt 
 II"'- "IIU- 
}- e.. TI-ere...ewe!! p
 t 
Ii;. .... eel u-.on. him 
 a 
and er: i.O bev re 0" 
- ; b ...n 1 V35 im 

;'J!e iA> be ,..en- 
"'e ..-: a !:'ell I -.an who ..ent 11" D the 
 
-
 ;oo..-:iS undeniab]y accom heJ. 
y 
sed, ex ---1lli: dy veil bred, and 
.. d al.-a::s procure a TOUcher fOl' ..ll.macks . 
]k 

 Bluu had the rare 
 or rather the 
r-,: of pa
 court be..1"'e the ..-orld to 
()
d aDd m:.J -Ie øed ladies. Be e&:. him.. lf 2 
=
, their - feei:, and on
rwbè.med them 
. _ 01-..... &:> ( L: the vere'" all 
_ bloom and- 
 of,..ooth.. It vas 
....:,........ tl.e w _OJ V""
 nc:K l
l:ir..! t Yr. 
})' 
 Of.. r wi h y -; pro:e; 
it......... 0 . e 
..ürea..e r
 in the Ct.
r. 
Try' e S; k
..=:n p t forth bb cla....". 
TN 'e ..Ie al..-ay;:, 
 
 pro Ie 
vin,; up for 
-. 'II"_":d say. in b.:sairy manner; uh tbe 
0.... _ r:, who bTe - to :: -T"e and moneT to 
k.... e, IL=>
 ava'\'"_ Le u.. c
-=Tate the do

r_ 
L a n..an 1I"1......s t 
 011 in :.Je, be em't do 
be ð" :0- d,.. the fl.:.;:,;on- of the Thddle 
.L '- - To 1rh; h:1t .en.1._ 
ture Yr. B'unt 
ov-c:d n neb or hb ;:,J.
'. 
us. Boa:'::'z' oh.he 
y crowd, vent 
c,n G :...b BIm a.JuÙed 2 cares...
 enTied by 
, ... _ _ lL ....J."!lJ" e

 ...ho .ou1d haTe 
",..e 
- ea...-s :: c --=> and 
 mea..<:nre) for a 
::. rr a -t'"ril 
 Td. from haJf tJ. e people h" 
- 11 .... "W1--n a r-.m come:, w Iì--')()undrn:- 
e..... .J'UJ"" 1) d...c'- se'" and p
 - - :; ro 
d
T - 
 .5ir - a 
 :>of ba:" re"", , 
I.e i . be 1"" - bewrU pI, n 
.. MT" b- . ...,.. in. L 'e 
,;. i (}'3. -"y .. ÿ, < S"TU h 
-:. a f---drnl -d a ..ec Ii:. -n eac 
1 
 0---"'" L a r
 Ù Jl"'e. Of 
L U I 
. Du-:.et 
 
 11I3."""C. 
, Þ . b .. abor fine ar" ere., 
-1 Ie <])r es dE -;land ad " · 
be e Pr ...
 C--3ri r, d 
T - of ÛJDoord in B,.. Park: 

 "q- e ano 
 th=- 
 d I -0 
e:s Ke..-_ Y,.. l 
 m
_cal 
11"0{" d be 1I"nt
 an he
 or 
1.0 e:r I wc:e a Iï'_ :----.". 



 


he! 


p 


new 


V" r- 


rnI 


.... 



J 


Char .DickeD"] ALl, rIlE YEAR ROL:',Ð 
drummer beats tLe c am' r be cI - I \nd 11 e .-r d. /1 k 
ad
.lD(' or he retrea I m t IJA. LI1 
eJ r 'nk, and pi .:1.1 
the band of the Ro al Hor i roar B at tIn e ue.1. ï; L I've 
the Ch.UW1c
 FlOwe; S ,nad L e beoo of i. wh'\t'!' i, . -G - _\ 1 
"hen their labour 1F o\"er 11- er' vfl Ht IT of E""'ÙDJ-an-J 
 
gra..IL ous cold mea..5 and beu. and. the - ..ePper.....h - lSmyd :d'fri -1.La.s 
master shared behreen them a lunt me d:::Ia- and I can wr:.e all I ...ant 
 11 - 
tive. eaves and l'(,..nd the II" '. t.f. 1 · f 
1" book, and the.! :'" ro r ( 
i away f r me and 1 ) e . p A.. I ) 
the penCIl in t , tJey ...(..0 t I me Ltye a 
to cut It ...ith. !SO ...hen l'\"e yorke<... d:J1rD 
tue cedar (as if I "':IS mad! ,\By I 
what ...ood the lead of a pencil 5 I 
I to Etruddles, and hë 
 it f f 
ò:)truidles is out of the YaV, I b 1 ... i 
away. 11 th re a3 I er.. h bare to wn 
with, Bot I must 11' ....a- e my ! I ...ant 
1O!!1' to m,. id at onre. I am ' t 

n. 'Wbère shalll be;in? Anyw 
Wbv n raise your pavements up 0 Ù 
floors of the houses. X tall tL PUeL. in 
London at once (that be a m..l L .1), 
but by de-_TeeS, and as opp...rtunit! off red - 
Ta1..e Reaent-street for m....1ance. .b _ you, 
I know Rf"øent-street ...ell, and have 0 en 
nearly been run oyer at ha awful eroc:... 
the ëlTcus where i joins Orlord-rtreet. 'Why 
uot have an iron balcony toile ...hole lell h of 
Re
nt-street on a le,.ël wi h tI e fi -8 
window5 to be used as the promer de frr foot- 
passer
r5 . lou couldn't do i a ('n
 b 
bv d
 you mij1t. be@innÏng u the C rt..! 
Tllen mÍ..
t a su ;->n made once by ad M 
friend of mine (C lumbos 
.art
) be- " j 
out completely. His idea
, th.l 
 ir n 
brid_ es should be thro1rIl up over tLe em.. nO'S 
at the Circ
 and a CL -tal idea It Y8! "" eL, 
mv iron balcony would be lile a continuaL n of 
tuese bridgec-. .or the briL
 ...ould be a COII- 
tlIlUation of tbe iron balcony, and so yo-.... Ii 
be able to.-a.lk strai..øbt on when TOU , t'> 
tbe crn- :ring, and take no account of tbe l. rr= 
omnibu
, and 
,roarir alo
, underr th 
you. But the wiseacres ...bo think tLat I LaTe 
no w("" _-bed all the diffi-:-ùties of my ..:an wiJ 
say, u And pray....hat is to become ohbe 5' ."' 
1Iy ans...er is ready instantlT. Raise it .D {fW , 
and let. tbe sho
ronts be õn tbe 
t. ÍI-._-ad 
of the ground Boor, ....hich shoùd then be LSe-J 
(or storehouses, or whate\"er the upper pon.. _3 
of the ho1beS are used for no.... Once more I 
repeat, you must do all this by dmee::.. T 
is tbe great secret. Do i 
nally. 
How pretty it would be Jb well as conyer 
Tbe balcony or iron pavemen ...ollH be 5 
ported on pillars of tbe same m tal, and WI d 
communicate with the carr -road by occa5" 
stai
 at the Ct"r'"

''';' All i"'e 5 r 
streets would be left- as t
v are. There' n..) 
difficulty in c
ir;:, o'('er tbëm; an
 sor 
'('ou were on mv rai
 pavemeut m Rt ent- 
stree . and wanted to turn into Co dtÙ-" reet, 
for instance, YOU W"Ould d--..cend the ìaircase 
at tbe corner. on which ..ide you hked, and 
would proceed aJon.r the pa\"emen of r 
tuorou are euc ly as usual. (T Te 


SrGGESTIO:XS FROM A MA
liC. 


THE communication here gwen to the readers 
of this periodical reached the office of 1a..3 pull.l- 
cation under CIrcumstances of unparall led sin- 
gal rity. 
An immense pacb. apperüed on the table 
one moI'llÌD@', whICh had been left, as was stated 
. nllouslyoutside. "on approval.' It must be 
owned that the dimensions of the S.lppr .d ma- 
nuscript were, to jud!!'e from tbe out-ide, ratJer 
alarm ill!!, but it was none h.e 1 determi.,rl 
that in this, as in otber cases, justice hould be 
done to tbe yolunteer contributor. Tne parcel 
was opened. What was the surprise of "toe 
ma
emenC to find nothing inside but an old 
and much worn co.Ev of Golasmith's Abridgment 
of the HistO" of Lngland. 
The book was about to be ßung as Ie, ...hen 
:Mr. Thomas Idle, ...bo \r.LS loi
ring in the 
office at the time, happenine in sheer listless- 
ness to turn over the pa
 of tbe volume, sud- 
denJy uttered the dissyllable .. Hullo. · A 
general rush was made to...ards tl.e spot from 
which tbis sound emanated, and it was then 
found that the volume of Goldsmith ....as 
coyered, as to tbe By-leaves and the margins 
of tbe pages, with manuscript wntten in pencil, 
which, when it bad been deciphered with much 
difficulty, came out in the form of the subjoined 
article. 
All endea'\"onrs to trace the authorship of tbe 
paper ha'('e been made in nin. It had been left 
at tbe office-tbis was all tbe information that 
...as to be go -by a stout 
-natured-looking 
personL.
, with busbv whiskers, and dre.sed in a 
sbootïni-jaclet: "hóhad handed tbe "pac
 in 
with a grin, and with tbe remar.l, ., lou won't 
often 
t anythin!! lil.e t ,I'll be bound :., 
The man
ript begins tbus : 


'Ine straw "WÏth which mv hair is decorated 
has failed lately to afford me the pleasure which 
it was wont to lrive. Tbe lath ....hich I have 
furbished up. and made into a sceptre, will not 
do, either. It was a great consolation to me at 
first, but it h3S ceased to be !SO now. Xo


 
will give me any satÏ5factÏ,>n except the 
 
se
ion of pens. inl., and paper, by mean.g of 
whic
 to impart my rapidly Bowing Ideas to the 
public. Id ! Flow
 ideas! Thev crowd 
and nlsh into my brain, trampling on - one an- 
other's heels at such a rate that I can keep 
tI1em in no sort of order-and they are such 
nluable id
, that they would set the ...hole 
world to I'Íl?hts if the whole world oolv iillew 
about them. . 


. 


I 
d 


a r 



ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


10 [February 13,1864.] 


by-thc-by, migllt remain just as it is under t11(' 
iron arcade, and would be a pleasant refuge ill 
rainy weather.) 
Now something of this sort-1 am not 
bigoted to my own scheme-but something of 
this sort ",ill have to be done. Even when I 
was a gentleman at large, some two years ago 
now, I have waited and waited at some of the 
principal crossings in London for an opportunity 
of getting over, till my poor nerves got into such 
a state that I could hardly take advantage of the 
chance" hen it did come. Of comse the thing 
is much worse now, and what will it be five 
years hencr? Modern nerves are more delicate 
and susceptible than ancient nerves, and yet they 
are in some respects more severely tried. I am 
told that already people collect in groups at 
some of the London crossings waiting till the 
police come to their assistance. .What will this 
come to, I ask again, five years hence? 
So much for that idea. N ow for the next, 
Let me see, "hat is the next? 
When I kept house-an undertaking of such 
fearful difficulty, and surrounded with such 
severe mental trials, that my having anything 
to do with it is one of the causes of nlY being 
llere, by mi
take-when I kept house I observed, 
for my occupation led me to look out of window 
a good deal, that. the street in which I resided 
was much frequented by a class of gentry wit.h 
greasy hair, wearing caps instead of hats, with 
a general second-hand look about everything 
they had on, with villanous faces, and with bags 
or sacks slung over their shoulders. Sometimes 
these individuals carried work-boxes or tea- 
caddies in their hands: the boxes in question 
being held open, in order to show the splendour 
of their interiors. Now, I remarkeù that these 
men were always looking down into the areas, that 
they always appeared to be communicating by 
signs, or sometimes by word of mouth, with the 
servants, and that everything they did" as done 
in a furtivc and sheepish mannel', very disagree- 
able to witness. Their communications with the 
servants would often terminate in a descent of 
the area steps, but it was always remarkable 
that no one of t.he individuals of whom I speak 
ever opened an area gate, or, indeed, did any- 
thing else without first glancing over his shoulàer 
to right and left, looking first up the street and 
then down the street. On emerging from the 
area, that sallie look was repeated before the 
man would venture out into the street, 
Sometimes it would happen, naturally enough, 
that one of these men would, in the course of 
his day's work-what work ?-arrive at the 
house then tenanted by me, and, little sllspecting 
that I was hiding behind the wire blind and lis- 
tening with all my might, would go through his 
usual manæuvres in front of my dining-room 
window. .Watching till oue of the servants 
chanced to approach the kitchen window, he 
would try to attract her attcntion by gently 
rattling a tea-caddy against the railings, and 
then, attention once caught-it was easily done, 
Heaven knows-he would begin cajoling- the 
women, and calling the cook" mum :" an otl'ence 


in itself which ought to be visited with trans- 
portation. 
""\\T ant a nice work-box, mum-nice tea- 
caddy, mum?" the sneak would berrin. 
The sen-ants, I suppose, answe
ed only by 
signals: at any rate, I could hear nothing of 
their replies. The sneak looked up and down 
tlJe street again, and then crouched down so 
as to be nearer the kitchen window. He also 
swung the bag off his shoulder, to be able to 
get at its contents. 
"Nice \York-box or caddy, mum! very rea- 
sonable, mum, Nice ribbings of all colours! 
Bit of edging, ladies, for your caps." 
The telegraphing from below would seem to 
be in the negative, though not sufficiently so 
to discourage this wretched sneak. He got 
nearer to the gate, and again. looked up and 
down the street. 
"Make an exchange, mum, if you like! A 
old pair of gentleman's boots, if you've got such 
a thing, mum, or a gentleman's old 'at or coat, 
ladies. Take a'most any think in change, ladies, 
if it was even so much as a humbrella, or an 
old weskit, or a corkscrew." 
And what business, pray, had mv female 
servants with boots, hats, waistcoats, 
 or cork- 
screws, in their possession? If these articles 
were given .to that disgusting sneak, who, at 
the conclu
lOn of the last sentrnee quoted, 
made his way furtively down the kitchen steps, 
w here could they possibly come from? "\Yomen 
servants do not wear coats and ,,'aistcoats and 
hats, nor do they generally have corkscrews of 
their own in their possession. 
.Why are these area sneaks allowed? They 
may be identified by anybody, but by a police- 
man especially, at a single glance. 1-Vhy are 
they allowed to pursue their avocations? My 
beloved friend Featherhead here, who has con- 
tinual information from outside the walls, tells 
me that lately several robberies have been traced 
to these detestable creatures. Featherhead has 
a bee in his bonnet, poor fellow, but he is truth 
itself; I can depend implicitly upon what he 
tells me, and it really seems to me, that if you 
go on allowing these area-sneaks to spend their 
days in wandering about the less frequented 
streets, corrupting the servants, and making 
them as great thie
es as they (the sneaks) are 
themselves, you must be much madùer than any 
of us poor fellows who are living-wrll, in re- 
tirement. 
I want to know, not that this has anything 
to do with the last subject-why should it? I 
suppose I may adopt a disjointed stJle if I 
choose-I want to know why, among you out- 
side, the young men, the bachelors, are made 
so much more comfortable than they ought 
to he? You cannot keep them out of some 
of their luxuries and comforts, it is true. They 
live in central situations at trifling rents. 
They take their meals at clubs, where they are 
provided with such food as is hardly to be ob- 
tained anywhere else. Thev have no respon- 
sibilities, "no anxieties wOl
thy of the name. 
_'\ nd, as if this was not enough, what else do 


I - 



Charles Dickens.] 


[FebrWlry 13, H"'!,] 11 


ALL THE YEAR ROU
""1>. 


I 
I 
I 


you do to encourage them in celibacy? You 
allow them at any age to accept your hos- 
pitalities, and you expect no rcturn, and you 
chargc them twelve shillings only for the privi- 
ll..'ge of wearing a demi-gritfin rampant on thcir 
little fingers, while the married man has to pay 
twenty-four. Now this, I say, is too bad. 'fhe 
bachelor is a selfish luxurious wretch, able to 
do more with three hundred a year th.111 thc 
family man can with three thousand. Tax 
him thcn-tax him heavily. He is young and 
strong, and able to endure-grind him down with 
taxation till he groans under the load, and then 
when he becomes a married man, and a worthy 
useful citizen, lighten his load instead of increas- 
ing it. And at the same time that we bully these 
seÌfish young dogs of bachelors, would it not be 
judicious to take a hint or two from them. 
How is it that they manage to get a maximum 
of enjoyment out of a minimum of expenditure? 
l
y cOlllbinat
on. And why shouldn't married 
people combme as well as bachelors? Not 
combine socially, I don't mean that, but pecu- 
niarily; as they already do to get their sup- 
plies of water, their gas, the books that they 
want to read. ",r e ought to have club cham- 
bers for families. Great big handsome houses 
lct off in floors. For want of thesc we havc 
ruined our town; we havc made metropolitan 
distances so vast that we want railways from 
one part of the town to another; we are in- 
volved, each one of us, in an enormous expen- 
diture for which we only get the smallest amount 
of comfort. In the present state of society, 
the providing for families should be the work 
of a professional man. .Why are you a house- 
holder, which is another name for a persecuted 
miserable swindled wretch ?-why are you to 
be bothered with mysterious papers about gas- 
rates, and \\ ater-rates, and poor-rates, and police- 
rates, besides ten thousand other cares and 
botherations, which are at once vexatious and 
unworthy of your attention. Let it be the 
business-and a very profitable business it might 
be-of a professional man to take a house or 
houses, to attend to the rates, taxes, and repairs, 
and to superintend and watch its kitchen arrange- 
ments as carefully as such matters are looked after 
by the committee of a club. 
" If you please, sir, the thor has set in and all 
the pipes is burst ;"-" lfyou plea:se, sir, the man 
'ave called to see about the biler, and he says 
could he speak to you about. it ;"-" There's a 
party in the 'all, sir, as wishes to see you about 
the gas-meter, 
 hieh he says a Hew one is 
wanted." Such announcements as these, together 
with incessant intimations that, "A gentleman 
has called for the pore-rate, and has been twice 
before," are familiar to everv .British house- 
holder. .What bliss to hear no 
10re allusions to 

uch matters, and to m:tke ovcr a cheque once a 
quarter to an individual who would take all such 
troublesome matters otT your hands for ever! 
I have no space to dwcll longer on this 
particular suggestion. I was thinking just 
now of sOlllethin
 else that [ wHllted to say 
-\\ hat was it? Oh, I remember: 


II 
.1 
I 


Why don't you imprO\ e your strcet con- 
veyances ? As to omnibuses, they are beyond 
hope. A famt attempt was made to do somethinl"l' 
with thcm, but. it S0011 subsided, and you hav
 
lapsed back into your old grooves again. But 
don't you think somethin R might be done with 
the cabs? Why not follow the plan adopted 
on railwa)s, and have first and second-class 
cabs. According to the present arrangement, 
you go to the play with your wife, in a vehicle 
whieh just before has been occupied by 
ix 
drunken blackguards returning from a foot 
race, or cven by worse customers. If there were 
first-class and second-class cabs, such objection- 
able people would hail the latter, on account of 
the difference in price. And keeping still to 
the cab question, why don't you bave some 
means of communicating with the driver with- 
out thrusting your head and half your body ont 
of the window? Even by doing that, you can 
hardly make yourself heard, in a crowded 
thoroughfare, till you ha\"e got past the house 
you wanted to stop at, or the street up whieh 
you should haTe turned. By means of a flexiblc 
tube you might give your direction with ease, 
withont stirring from your place, or bawling 
yourself hoarse. And would it be too much to ask 
that in close cabs t here should always be a light 
inside after nightfall? As it is, you plunge into 
the interior of that dark receptacle tor locomo- 
tive humanity, compelled to take your chance of 
plumping down upon a scat on which some in- 
considerate person has just before deposited a 
pair of boots thickly encrustcd wilh mud. There 
is a lamp outside the Hansom; why don't you 
have a lamp inside the four-wheeler? And taIl- 
ing of Hansoms, how is it that the public puts 
up with that guillotine window? "\Ve have a very 
mce fellow ill this establishment who once broke 
one of those windows with his nose-the feature 
is a large one, and the scar is upon it to this 
hour, If it is not possible to make a window 
altogether outside the cab, allowin
 a good space 
betwecn it and the apron for ventila.tion, at least 
the window as at present existing might be left 
to the management of the individual inside the 
cab. The majority of persons who have sense 
enoug-h to find their way into one of these 
vehicles, would probably be capable of the 
mental and bodily effort of dealing with the 
window. But it is a curious thing, and difficult 
to account for, that all persons who are profes- 
sionally mixed up \\ ith horses and carriages 
always treat you as if in all matters connected 
with eithcr you \\ere a perfect baby. I must 
leave this subject of Hansoms and four-\\ heeler
. 
I come to my most important suggestion. It is 
new. It is practical. It gets us-the country 
generally-the government-the people-out of 
a difficulty. It is economical. 
I have to propose a new method of rewarding 
merit in this country: a new way of di
tinguish- 
ing those amon
 our citiæns who have earned a 
right to our approval, aud on whom it is the 
general \\ ish to confer some g-re,
t pnblic e\"i- 
dence of our respect and gratitude. Hitherto, 
when we ha\c sought to do hOilour to a great 



[Conducted by 


II 


12 [February 13, lSG4.) 


ALl.. THE YEAR ROUND. 


man, or to render an illustrious name additionally 
illustrious, it has been our custom to erect a 
monument. 
Now, my desire is to establish a system the 
very reverse of this. I propose that in grateful 
remembrance of every great man who ariscs 
I among us, instead of putting up a statue, or 
, ather monument, we go to work with axc and 
hammer, and PULL O
E DOWN! 
i Here would be a stimulus to exertion! 
Gracious powers! who that loved his conntry 
I -or rather his town-would not strain every 
nerve to excel in his own particular department, 
: I when the hope was before him of delivering 
his fellow-creatures from one of those terrific 
mon
ters, the public statues! Once let the 
edict go forth, once let it be distinctly under- 
stood that any man who achieved greatness 
might not only feel secure himself from ever 
appearing in one of our public places with a 
scroll in one of his hands, and tights on both 
, his legs, but that he would secure to himself 
the glory of abolishing a London statue-once 
let this be understood, and 1 believe there 
I would be no end to our greatness as a nation. 
How would the flagging energies of a virtuous 
rising man revive as he passed the Duke of 
York's Column, or George the Third's Pigtail, 
or George the Fourth's curly wig, and said to 
himself, "A little more labour, a little longer 
effort, and, thou monstrosity, I shall lay thee 
level with the dust." 
Some one has remarked that we are not a 
military nation, From the moment when this 
plan of mine is adopted-as of course it will 
be-we shall become so. What will a man 
not do, what hardship will he not encounter, 
wbat danger will he not face, with the thought 
deep down in the rece5ses of his heart, that he 
is not only combating his country's foes, but 
that he is helping to lift that load of horror 
off the arch at the top of Constitution-hill! 
From one end of our social scale to the other 
am whole community would feel this additional 
stimulus to exertion. Even the illustrious 
prince in whose presence it has never been my 
good fortune to bask, would be urged OIl in a 
glorious and virtuous career by the t.hought 
that one day the 
tatue of his great-uncle might 
by his greatness be swept away from the surface 
of Trafalgar-square, or that his noble acts would 
remove another great-uncìe from King William- 
street, where he inten-upts the traffic by vainly 
offering a coil of rope for sale, and depresses 
the spirits of the passers-by in a perfectly inex- 
cusable manner. All classes, I say, would feel 
this stimulus. The politician would look at 
Lord Geor
e Bentinck, and, shaking his fist at. 
him, would mutter, "Thy days are numbered." 
The medical man would think of Jenner, and 
sign his prescription with a bolder hand. "Fiat 
pilula, ruat J ennerum !" 
And consider how remarkable it is that the 
bronze coinage should have come into existence 
just at the mot
lent when we are likely to have 
so m.uch bronze thrown upon our hands. -What 
unnumbered pennies there must be in the length 


and breadth of that fearful statue of the Duke 
of .Wellington. Wh.v, there must be chanrre for 
a fi \'e-shilling-piece in llÌs nose. The co
ked- 
h2: t would be a dO\:TY for. a princess. The 
stIrrups-hut the mmd shrInks before the con- 
templation of such wealth. 
PROPOSED "FORM. 
'1'0 His Excellency General Lord * ;:, * * .,. ;
, 
Field-i\Iarshal, &c, &c. &c. 
l\Iy Lord, 
We hasten to approach your lordship wit.h 
ou
 heartfelt congratulations on your safe 
arn val on these shores, and also on the suc- 
cess which has attended your arms in every 
action in which vou have been enrrarred while 
defending the iñterest'3 of that gr
at country 
which you so adequately and nobly represent. 
1,y e are directed to com-ey to your 10rdshiD 
the acknowledgments of your gracious sovê- 
reign for the services rendered by you to your 
country, and we are further directed to add to 
the honourable titles ",hich already adorn your 
name, those of ;-&c. &c. &c, 
But a prouder distinction yet awaits your 
lordship; one which it will be more glorious 
to you to receive, and for us to confer. 
It has bren decided that such services as 
those by which you have recently so eminently 
distinguishcd yourself, are worthy of some more 
marked commemoration than any which mere 
titles, however illustrious, can afford. "" e have 
to announce to you that it is the intention of 
the sovereign of this country to confer upon 
you the highest honour which a monarch can 
give, or a subject receive. 
It has, doubtless, not escaped the notice of 
one so well acquainted with our metropolis as 
your lordship, that in one of its principal tho- 
roughfares, at the entrance to one of its principal 
parks, in the immediate vicinity of its clubs 
and its Tattersall's, there exists a monster of 
noisome and appalling proportions, which, be- 
sides being the terror of the neighbourhood in 
which it is located, has disgraced the name of 
Britain in those foreign countries which the ru- 
mour of its existence has unfortunately reached. 
This monster it has been your proud privilege 
to depose from his high place. An enemy to 
the fair name of this country, almost as much 
so as those other enemies over whom you have 
lately triumphed-that monster has fallen before 
your victorious approach, and beneath the spot 
which was once its lair may now be seen your 
lordship's name, in bold characters, and under- 
neath it the simple inscription-" OVERTIIROW
 
BY THIS PUBLIC BE
EFACTOR." 
As your lordship's fellow-countrymen pass 
that inscl'iptioll in thcir daily walks, not only 
will the remembrance of the numerous exploits 
with which your name is associated be kept 
continually before them, but their gratitude to- 
wards the man who has dclivered his country 
from a terror and a shame, will be reawakened 
from day to day, and from hour to hour. 
Feeling that nothing-we could add would give 
any additional value to this tribute whicb "e 



I 
!I 


Charles Dickens.] 


[FeLruary 1 , U i4 ] 


13 


I 
II 
II 
I 


ALL THE YE.\.lt ROUXD. 


bave thus the honour of offering- to your lord- 
ship, we will now withdraw, wishing your lorù- 
ship long- life and health, and m:my a plea
ant 
ride under t hat arch on Constitution-hill which 
"ill henceforth be always associatcd with your 
proudest triumphs and your most glorious 
achievements. 
1V care, &c. &c. 
(Signed) 


There! I'vc come to the end of the space at 
my disposal, and can say no more; but if you'll 
only scnd me another big book-say Hansard's 
Debates-I'll annotate it with suggestion3 by 
the dozen. 
By.the-by, does it st.rike you, or any of your 
readers, that Olivcr Goldsmith was at all 
mad? 


THE LABOURS OF THOR. 


nEI
G A :SORSE LEGE
D FRO:\[ THE PROSE EDDA. 
TllI
 path to the giants' country 
Lies o'er a broad deep cliff-bound sea, 
Through forest and swamp, o'er fell and moor, 
And waste, and b:uren, stony amI poor; 
None since the earliest days of yore 
Have crossed that sea, or stood on that shore, 
Yet Thor once by a magic cluc 
Traversed it seeking deeds to do. 
. . . . . 
There was the city; it stood on a plain 
Treeless and open to wind and rain. 
The. walls rose up and met the stars, 
But its gates were guarded with triple bar!:. 
Thor, he wrestled with beam and bolt, 
Gave many a twisting angry jolt, 
But in vain. So then, as a weasel creeps, 
Between the stalks of the wheatsheaf heaps, 
He angrily slipped; how the wise god's thought 
All Loki's barriers set at nought. 
He fouml the palace, 'twas vast and high, 
"Pith golden turreh; that clove the sky, 
And seeing a door wide open stand, 
He entered, and saw the giant band 
Seated on benches around the hall, 
And Loki throned above them alL 
They gravely bowed, but the king austere, 
Cried, frowning, " Who i:3 this stripling here? 
The warrior Thor? let him merit his fame 
By doing some deed that is fitting his name." 
Loki of Utgard, that wily king, 
Smiled at Thor's angry challenging, 
"Uut he arose, amI his giant race, 
And came to a broad and level place, 
Then called to Hugi, one of his train, 
To race with Thor on that grassy plain. 
Tears of rage were in Thor's fierce eyes, 
He ran as fast as the swallow flies, 
nut as the arrow the Lird o'ertakes, 
Swifter than fire in the dry grass brakes, 
H ugi outran him and reached the place, 
Then turned and met Thor face to face. 
"Bra,-ely lost," cried Loki then, 
"But II ugi is fleeter than gocis or men." 
"Bring me a drinking-horn," cried Thor, 
" I challenge you giants, onc or a score." 
Loki called for a walrus horn, 
Thor looked at it with angry scorn. 


.. Bold drinker," said Loki, "now drain that cu." 
In two good drau
ht" you should toss it up. 
The vericst "oman, it seems to me, 
Cuuld dr.lÌn that goLlet in two or three." 
'Twa,> a simplc horn, lung tapering, 
.A mere pour unshaped rustic thing. 
The gud was thir"ty, and raised the horn 
To his eager lips with a savage scorn. 
A long deep draught he fiercely took, 
Kever stopping to breathe or look; 
But still when he set the goblet down 
(Anù I.ohi smiled at hi" wrathful frown), 
The liquor les"ened never a whit; 
Three draughts he took, ùut scarce a bit 
Thc cup was emptier; Lreathless, worn, 
Thor gave back the giants' horn. 
" 'Vhy, fie," quoth Loki, "no prize of mine 
Will to day ùe clutched by those hands of thine." 
"Try me again," quoth angry Thor, 
"TJ.y me, ye giants. with one feat more; 
Though Utgard Loki may mock and laugh. 
I drank a draught that no god could quaff." 
., Try him," cried Loki, with crafty eyes; 
" Bring him that cat our children prize. 
Let us see you lift it, mighty Thor, 
Though scarce so strong as we held you for:' 
'Vhile be spoke a large grey cat sprang in, 
'Vhilling, and purring, and struggling. 
Thor took the cat in his cruel clasp, 
And clutched its fur with a tiger grasp. 
He strained, and grappled, and clutched each lilllb
 
But that cat was 8till stronger far than him. 
" Ha! Thor," cried Lot.i, " 'tis as I thought, 
The cat is stalwart, and you are nought." 
.. Little or bi"" said Thor "I see 
Kone who wiìì dare to wr
stle with me 
Kow I am wroth;" then Loki cried, 
" I see nonc here but would tame thy pride. 
Let somebody call th3.t poor old crone, 
EIli, my nurse, she will quell thee alone." 
A toothless hag, with bleared red eyes, 
Came hobbling in; she was old and bent, 
She stared at Thor with a feigned surprir,P r 
And lower upon her crutch sbe Jeant. 
Tighter Thor held her, firmer she stood, 
Firm as the oak-tree in the wood; 
And she twined and grappled him sJoYrly dOYrn, 
Till at last, in spite of curse and frown, 
He fell on one knee. Then the crone laughed out, 
And the hall-roof shook with the giants' shout. 
The next da}p, Utgard Loki, elate, 
Led Thor out of the city gate. 
BaiRed and chafed was mighty Thor, 
Never had he Leen fooled before. 
"Nay," said Loki, "then know 'twas I 
Who Lamed thy force with my subtlety. 
A cloud of magic was over thee thrown; 
.\11 those spell" were mine alonc. 
"-hat wonder that thou wert set at nought 
By Hulgi the runner, for Ilulgi was Thought! 

o wonùer that thou wert lau
hed to scorn 
For failing to drain that mighty born, 
For its one end reached the bottomless sea, 
A pretty draught, 0 Thor, for thee. 
l\lidgard serpent that cat of ours 
Foiled thy rage and thy fiercest powers. 
Old Age was that lean and crippled crone, 
By whom tkou wert all but overthrown. 



14 [February 13, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


I'ooner or later she lays us low, 
And all of us fall beneath her blow. 
Sow let us part, and I'm not loth, 
Come not again, or 'tn-ere worse for both; 
But if thou dost a spell sl]all f
ln, 
That will hide from thee giants, city, and all." 
Thor waxed wrath, and seized his mace, 
But Loki had vanished, nor left a trace. 
"'hen Thor strode back to storm the town, 
lIe only found a bare lone down. 


THE SENSATIONAL .WILLIAMS. 


CO
TE}[PORARY criticism has recently been 
deformed hy a species of cap.t, \VI
icb, origi
at- 
iug, as cant generally does, III a Slllcere feelmg 
on the part of a few, has been echoed by the 
many simply because it is an effective cry. If 
anyone '\Trites a novel, a play, or a poem, which 
relates anything out of the ordinary experience
 
of the most ordinary people-some tragedy of 
love or revenge, some strange (though not im- 
possible) com bination of events, or some romance 
of guilt and misery-he is straightway met with 
a loud exclamation of "Sensational!" This 
foolish word has become t.he orthodox stone for 
flinging at any heretic author who is bold enough 
to think that life has its tremendous passes of 
anguish and crime, as well as its little joys and 
little sorrows-its strange adventures and vicis- 
situdes, as well as its daily progresses from 
Brixton to the Bank, and from the Bank back 
aO'ain to Erixton; and who holds that the more 
vividly-coloured part of the grouping is as legi- 
timate a subject for artistic treatment as the 
more drab-hued section. But the anti-sensa- 
tional critic will tell you that, if you would 
write a novel Or a play that is fit to be read by 
anyone with tastes superior to those of a butcher- 
boy, JOU must confine yonrself strictly to the 
common events of common lives, have nothing 
"hatcvel'to '6ay to any of the extremes of passion 
or of action, leave murder to the penny papers, 
be ignorant of suicide, have no idea that there are 
dark shadows in the \TorId, and shnn a mystery 
as JOU would the measles. In short, let Brixton 
be your standard, the Alps being among Nature's 
"siJasms," and therefore very improper subjects 
for respectable authors. Moreover, in relating 
the even tenor of Brixtonian existence, be care- 
ful that you are never betrayed into any emotion 
of stylc-any throb or pulse of passion in your 
lauO'uaO'e, any glow of description or rapid deve- 
lop
leá of action-on pain of being taken to 
ta
k for havinO' shown" hectic" and" feverish" 
symptoms: "\Vhen you have fulfilled all th
se 
conditious, then will the organs of ßrixtoman 
criticism smile on you, ancl declare that you 
have composed "a very sweet, natural, un- 
affected, and thoroughly healthy tale, inexpres- 
sibly refreshing in these days of exaggerated 
sentiment and spasmodic plot." . 

ow, there can be no doubt that very beauti- 
ful and intcresting fictions may be made, and 
have been made, out of thc simplest elements of 
II every-day life. The ('ommo
lcst. 
 hreads of, 
he 
woof of humanity havc th:J.t III their compositIOn 


I which is capable of enlisting the sympathies of 
all of us; and when the humour and pathos of 
the most unromantic lives are drawn forth by 
the subtle touch of genius, we hail the result by 
involuntary laughter and tears, But why is all 
art to be restricted to the uniform level of quiet 
domesticity? To say nothing of the super- 
natural regions of imagination and fancy, the 
actual world includes something more than the 
family life; something besides t.he placid 
emotions that are developed about the paternal 
hearth-rug. It has its sterner, its wilder, and 
its vaster aspects; adventures, crimes, agonies; 
hot rage and tumult of passions; terror, and 
bewilderment, and despair. Why is the literary 
artist to be shut out from the tra g edy of exist- 
ence, as he sees it going on around him? "Why 
is it necessarily immoral to shadow forth the 
awful visitat.ions of wrath and evil and punish- 
ment, or to depict those wonderful and unwonted 
accidents of fortune which are just as real as 
anything that happens between Brixton and t
e 
Bank, only of less frequent occurrence? It IS 
very easy to cry "Sensational 1" but the word 
proves nothing. Lct it begrantedthat such things 
are sensat.ional; but then life itself IS similarly 
sensational in many of its aspect.s, and Nature 
is similarly sensational in many of her forms, 
and art is always sensational when it is tragic. 
The CEdipus of Sophocles is in the highest degree 
sensational; so are half the plays of Shakespeare, 
at a moderate computation; so is the Satan of 
Paradise Lost; so is Raphael's :Massacre of the 
Innocents; so is the Laocoon; so, one may 'Say, 
are the Oratorios of Handel, since they deal 
with tremendous elements of snfferin
 and 
wonderment, of aspiration and triumph. .When- 
ever humanity wrestles with the gods of 
passion and pain, there, of necessity, is that 
departure from our diurnal platitudes whieh the 
cant of existing criticism denonnces by this 
single word. It is quite. tru
 that there i
 a 
vulgar species of scnsatIonahsm, than wInch 
nothing can be worse. The halfpenny tales of 
murder and felony, of which a deluge .i
 usually 
being poured forth, are really demorahsmg; for 
the difference between an artist W]IO can look 
into the psychology of crime and terror, and the 
botcher who can do nothing more than lay on 
the carmine wit.h a liberal brush, is so great as 
to be essential. In a smaller degree, it is the 
difference between the old playwright who, 
ending his tragedy with a scene of .general 
massacre, directs that the dead bodle
 and 
scattered limbs are to lie about the stage "as 
bloodie as may be," and the great poet who 
says, through the mouth of his murderous 
king: 


I am in blood 
Stept in so far that, should I wade no more, 
Returning were as tedious as go o'er. 
. . . . I have supp'd full with horrors: 
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 
Cannot once start me. 
The mystery of evil is as interesting to us 
now as it was in j he time of SUAKESPEARE; and 
it is downright affectation or eil'emin:\cy to say 



Charles Dickens.] 


ALL TilE YEAR nOrSD. 


that we are never to glance into that ahyss, bu t 
are pCI petually to COllstruCt our novels out of 
the amenities of rcspectable, casy-goin
 mcn 
ami women. If the objectors would content 
themselvcs with protestm
 against coarse C'(- 
ceS!3f'S, they wouM do good service; hut, '" hen 
they ùcnounce all rccòurse to the more terrilic 
clements of our life, \\ e may not unreasonably 
inquire how thev ",ould have recei\cd such a 
playas ..\Iacbefh. Our neigllbours over the 
water discuss" the Divine WIlliams." Let us, 
for a few momcnts, di!3cUSS "The Sensational 
Williams." Let us suppose 'Macbeth just pub- 
lished for the first time by a living author; pro- 
bably this is the way in which the SensatIOnal 
.Williams ",ould be .. reviewecl" by anti-sen- 
sational critics: 


J[acbeth. A Tragedy. By William Shake- 
speare.-
Ir. Shakespeare is really becomin
 all 
intolerable nuisance, which it behoves all critics 
who have at heart the dignity, or even the de- 
cency, of letters, to abate by the exercise of a 
wholesome severity. lIe has no idea of tragedy 
apart from the merest horrors of melodrama. 
In his Othello, a blackamoor smothers his wife 
on the stage, under a preposterous delusion of 
jf'alousy, encouraged by a gentlemanly l\Iephis- 
tophiles of his acquaintance; and thcn stabs 
him::.elf with a heetorin
 speech when he finds 
out his mistale. In King Lear, the accumula- 
tion of frightful and revolting atrocities is 
50methinO' almost beyond belief. Lear is sup- 
posed to Lave occupied the throne of Britain 1Il 
some remote epoch beyond the dawn of authen- 
tic history. On aecount of a very natural and 
becoming answer made him by one of his 
daughters, he disowns her, and afterwards, for 
some insufficient reason, pronounces a curse 
upon another daughter, expressed in such 
frightful language that wc must forbear from 
making any further allusion to the subject. 
Then he goes out on to a heath in a storm, and 
cur::.cs things in general, his Bedlamite ravings 
being varied (such are Mr. Shakespeare's notions 
of good taste) by the ribald jokes of a court 
fool, whose inanities are evidently addre
sed to 
the gallery auditors. Another character assumes 
to be an idiot, and with hideous jibberings 
makes up a pretty trio. Finally, the old king 
Linùs out that his disowned daughter is a very 
good 
irl after all, and, ",hen she has met her 
death by somc unlucky circumstance (as im- 
probable and horrific as the other incidents 
of the play), hc brings the corpse on to the 
stage in his arm s, "ho\\ Is" over it, like a 
mourner at an Irish wale-IiI erally "howls," 
in good do" might fashion-and presently gives 
up the ghost, to thc grcat relief of the reader. 
Besides these agreeable incidents, there is a 
good deal of !31aughtering, and one nobleman 
tears out another nobleman's e
es (at the insti- 
gation of t\\O princc
ses). and" sets his foot" 
on one of them! Hamlet-which a toad) ing 
cIiq.c whom)Ir. Shakespeare has gathered about 
him aU'cet to rq
ard as a \\ork of profound phi- 
losophy and superhuman wisdom-is equally 


[Fcbrunry 1u, l".A] 1" II 
full of abswrd and shocking incident 'I. We have 
the ghost of a IIlUrdcred kin
; hi!) murderous 
brother who succeeds him on the throne; a 
queen who m.uries her brother-in-law; a crack- 
brain{'d 
oung prince (whose state of mind 
"ould nldke him a fittin
 subject for a CJIIl- 
mis
ion de lunatico inquirendo); a maunderinO' 
old !:{cntIeman whom Hamlet stabs as he liste
 
bchmd t he arras (one of the few reasomble 
things he does in the whole five acb); and a 
youn
 lady", ho goes mad, and, after dodderinO' 
about with straw. in her hair, singing songs that 
arc not over-dclIcate, drowns herself by acci- 
dent in a horse-pund. In the last scene of this I I 
hideous burlesque of nature and prob..1bility, the I 
queen (Hamlet's mother) dies by a poisoned I 
cup of wille; thc king is stabbed, and Hamlet 
and an enemy of his kill each other with a 
poisoned foil while they are fencing. As only 
one of thc foils is poisoned, and it is ne- 
cessarv to thc climax. that both should die at 
once, w the t\\ 0 combatants contrive, by some 
sleight-of-hand which is quite bryond our com- 
prehension, to exchange the weapon \\ ithout 
meaning it! But a wrIter who for ever aims at 
startling effeets must of necessity pile up the 
agonies in his concluding scene; and this 
agglomeration of fantastic crimes \\ ill the lcss 
astonish the reader when he learns that in one 
scene Hamlet reviles his own mother in the 
most dreadful manlier, and in another utters 
profane jokes in a churchyard while his sweet- 
heart's grave is being dug, and tosses skulls 
about the stage! So fond is 
Ir. Shakespeare 
of dcath in its most revolting forms, that even 
Ius love-story of Romeo and Juliet is full of 
slaughtering and poisoning; while his very 
comedies have gcnerally sOllie smack of the 
gallows in them. 
'f e do not wish to be unfair on 
rr. Shale- 
speare. He is not devoid of a certain ability, 
which might be turued to very reputable ac- 
count if he only understood his own powers 
better. lIe has a good deal of native hwnour 
-exaggerated, indeed, to the pitch of burlesque, 
but undoubtedly amusing j and he possesses 
some knowledge of the superficial parts of dla- 
ractcr, though, being evidently no scholar, he is 
oftcn ridiculously vulgar in his would-be repre- 
sentations of gentlemcn. He would do \ ery 
well as a writer of farces and of show pieces j 
but his injudicious friends have flattered him 
into the belief that he is a great tragic poct j 
and hence the gory nonsense of this ne\V drama. 
Macbeth, of which we now proceed to give some 
:lccount. 
The 8cene is laid in Scotland. during the 
reign of one Duncan, of whom English readers 
lnow littlc and care less. The play opens. in 
good melodramatic (or, rather, pantomimic) 
fashion, with a dark scene j thunder rolling- and 
liO'htnin:; flashing, and three witches talking 
gibherish in rh) me. \\ ere this last monstrosity I 
of Mr. Shakespeare's fancy ever to be played at 
any theatre (which, ho\\ ever, is quite iIllIJOS- 
sible). "e can easily imagine the low tremulous 
murmuring of fiddles to '" hich the curtain would 



ALL THE YEAR ROUKD. 


, 16 [February 1'3, 1864.] 
I rise. Scene I., however, ÙOf'S not last ahove a 
I II minute, as it only consists of ei
ht short lines. 
The second scene introdnces us to the old king, 
Duncan, to ",horn" a bleeding" soldier" relates 
I t he progress of :m insurrection ",hicll has just 
I been quelled b,v the Htlour of :Macbeth. In 
I Scene HI. we return to thunder, "itches, and 
gibberish. One of the old women compares 
hcrself to "a rat without a tail," and threatens 
to drain a certain mariner as "dryas hay," 
which induces us to suppose that she must be a 
skittle-sharper in disguise, since the draining- of 
s
ilors is generally effected by t hose ingenious 
practitioncrs. Presently l\lacbeth comes in 
from the wars, and the witches hail him as 
thane of Glamis, thane of Cawdor, and future 
king of Scot Ìand. 'l'hane of Glamis he is al- 
ready, but to be thane of Cawdor and king of 
Scotland seems to this worth. v gentleman beyond 
the reach of thought. However, somebody 
comes in shortly afterwards, and tells :Macbeth 
that, the thane of Caw-dol' being a traitor, the 
title has been transferred to the putter-down of 
traitors. This sets Macbeth plotting how he 
I may become a traitor on his own account, and 
secure the crown for himself. He has a bold, 
I bad woman for his wife-a strong-minded wo- 
! I man, who gives us to understand that she will 
stick at nothi!lg to s
tisfy her ambition. In 
I I very plain language she invokes all the devils of 
I the nether regions to take possession of her 
soul-which we dare say they were not slow in 
doing. 1Ye ha\'e too much resp.ect for our 
readers to reproduce the dreadful tlungs uttered 
by this she-dragon, perhaps the most unnatural 
character that even 1\1r. Shakespeare's lurid and 
unhealthy imagination has ever conceived. Suf- 
fice it to say that she eggs on her husband to 
murder Duncan, which, after a good deal of 
hesitation (proceeding rather from cowardice 
than conscience), and some idiotic ravings about 
an " air-drawn dagger," which he elegantly de- 
scribes as oeing covered with" gouts of blood," 
he accomplishes in the dead of night, and lays 
the blame on the king's sleeping attendants. 
Afterwards he kills these attendants to conceal 
his own guilt, and in t.he next act we find him 
king. But Macbeth, fearing that the crown 
will in time come to one Banquo, and his son 
Fleance, commissions" two Murderers" to make 
away with those individuals. There is some- 
thing so homicidal and N ewgate-Calendarish 
about Mr. Shakespeare's mind, that he seems 
actually to have persuaded himself that there 
was at one time in Scotland a set of men who 
followed murùer as a trade or profession, and to 
whom people applied in the ordinary course of 
business whenever they wished to get riù of an 
inconvenient rival, while feeling too squeamish 
or too dignified to do the work for themselves. 
The men in question have no names, but are 
, simply described as "First Murderer" and 
, I ' "Second Murderer." Our Scottish brethren 
are never slow to resent an insult to their 
country, and we therefore confidently leave in 
, their hands the chastisement of Mr. Shake- 
speare's ignorant impertinence. 1Yell, the Mur- 


'-, 


[Conclucted by 


1- 


derers despatch Banqllo, but mannge to let 
Fleance escape; and in a subsequent scene we 
have Macbeth, his queen, and their courtiers, 
seated at a banquet, at which t he ghost of 
Banl]l!-o makes his appearance 
vi I h " gOl'Y locks," 
and sits do" n to table, as If he had dcsigns 
upon the meat and drink, This unlooked-for 
visitor greatly alarms the tyrant, who" makes 
faces" at the spectre, foams at him, and remarks 
that, inasmuch as he can" nod" (which seems 
a strange occupation for a phantom), he may as 
well "speak too," The ghost prudently de- 
clines to give tongue (in this respect more mer- 
ciful than the ghost of Hamlet's father, who is 
cmelly verbose); and Macbeth laments his 
liability to such visitations in this graceful 
nd 
feeling manner: 
The times have been 
That, when the brains were out, the man would die, 
And there an end; but now they rise again, 
'Yith twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
And push us from our stools. 
1Ve have no wish to invade the sanctities of 
private life; but we have heard that Mr. 
Shakespeare's father was a butcher, and we can 
certainly very readily believe that the son was 
brought up in a slaughter-house, and thus ac- 
quired a practical knowledge of what commonly 
results after" the brains are out," as well as a 
tendency to delight in sauguinary subjects. 
In Act IV. we discover the three witches in a 
gloomy cavern, preparing a "hell broth" in a 
large caldron. The filthy and disgusting ingre- 
dients of this broth are inflicted on the reader 
with abominable minuteness; for nothin
 is too 
nasty for 1\11'. Shakespeare's Muse. However, it 
does not appear that the broth, or" gruel"-for 
it is described by both words-is intended for 
consumption, but only for conjUl'ation. 1\Iac- 
beth having entered to consult the witches, 
"an armed
 head," "a bloody child," and "a 
child crowned, with a tree in his hand" 
(query, a Christmas-tree ?), rise out of the cal. 
dron, as birds, bouquets, and bon-bons emerge 
from the magic hat of 1\1. Robin or Herr Frikell. 
These apparitions address Macbeth in some 
highly ambiguous language, and then follows a 
vision of eight kings, "the last with a gla:ss in 
his hand," which is unpleasantly suggestive of 
the Cyder Cellars at four o'clock in the mornillg. 
After this cavernous scene we are transported 
to the castle of Lady :Macduff, where the 
Murderers come in again, stab a son of her lady- 
ship, and pursue the mother, who makcs her 
exit, crying" :Murder !"-and we are aften,-ards 
given to understand that she and all her young 
ones and servants are slaughtered. 'fhen comes 
a little breathing space between Acts IV. and 
V,; but no sooner IS the drop scene up for the 
last division than we arc introduced to Lady 
Macbeth walking in her sleep, muttering about 
the murder of Duncan (which by this time has 
been almost borne out of our remembrance by the 
flood of later catastrophes), feigning to wash 
her hands, informing us that "hell is murky," 
and remarking that no one would have" thought 
the old man to have had so much blood in him !" 



Cbarlcs Dickens.] 


[Fcbruary 13, 18C4.] 17 


ALL TIlE YEAlt ROU
D. 


The catastrophe now fast approaches, and 
c 
may hurry on to it with little eercmony. Thc 
qUl'cn dics (ofT the stage, we arc happy to say), 
I and, an insurrection being got up a!:;'ainst the 
I usurper, .\1acbeth is slain, aftcr a terrific com hat 
with Macduff, \\ ho cuts off hi
 head (behind the 
I scenes), and brings it in "on a pole !" .:\Iutual 
I congratulatioijs, flourish, and curtain falls. 
And this stuff is called a t1'a
edy! Why, it 
: , ' I is a rank melodrama, of the old Cobu1'g fashion, 
1\11'. Shakespeare is behind his time, Twenty 
,I years ago, in the ùavs of Hicks and" 'Vinsunt ," 
I hf' would have been a powerful rival to the 
aut hors who supplied the late Mr. Osbahlistone 
\\ ith the dramas of the New Cut. But evcn 
the 1I10st uneducated audiences have now out- 
gro\\ n such vulgar horrors. Does Mr. Shake- 
speare imagine for one moment that any theatre 
in London or thc provinces would produce such 
a playas this Macbeth? It would be hissed 
off the boards bcfore the end of the first act, 
And even should it obtain a temporary success, 
would not posterity explode with laughter at 
such a speCImen of the literature of our epoch? 
if, indeed, posterity cared to trouble itself at all 
about )11'. Shakespeare and his writings. The 
best advice wc can give this gentleman is to 
turn a deaf ear t.o his flatterers, and endeavour, 
if possible, to compose something quiet, simple, 
and natural. Though it is forbidden the genius 
of our nation and 
ur language to produce an 
Æschylus, we may at least emulate his good 
taste in removing murder from thc stage; and 
though we may never be able to scale thc 
heights of moral grandeur familiar to the intel- 
lect of Sophocles, we can at any rate refrain 
from outraging decency and sense. We say to 
Mr. Shakespeare in plain language, "This will 
I not do. You may think it very fine, and fools 
. may be found to tell you so; but, however 
rough our speech, we are your true friends, and 
\\"c repeat that IT WO
'T DO!" 


CHINESE KITES. 


I' 


Sm RüTIIEHFORD ALCOCK remarks, in his 
interesting \\ ork on Japan, on the ridiculous 
contrariety presented in many of the habits of 
the Japanese to those of Western nations; how 
they mount their horses on the opposite side; 
how their carpenters plane towards the person 
instead of from it; how the men fly kites and spin 
tops while the boys look on ; how their charactcr 
runs from top to bottom, and thcir books read 
from right to left, and so on. Sir John Davis 
notices a similar peculiarity in thc Chincse in 
his entertaining work on that people. 
Perhaps of all the odd practices thus indulged 
in, the one most easily to be accounted for, is 
thc practice of kite-ßying by "rown-up men: 
which may be bcttcr appreciated: \\ hen It is cx- 
plained that the lites of China and Japan are not 
the simplc articles we usually lnow by that 
name, but are toys infinitely "arious in sort, 
size, and shape, and oftcn elaborate in construc- 
tion, as \\cll as high in prier \\"h,lt man among 


ourselvcs but has had his eves attracted up\\ard, 
and morc or less of his mtere:;t engaged, by 
seeing a fire-halloon sailin h in mid-air, or a sly- 
rocket burst iug in the sh.y; or, indeed, anythin rr 
out of the common bappenin
 overhead. And i
 
the Chinaman or Japanese to be laughed at, if he 
relishes the still stranger sight of a huge draC1'on 
or centipedc trailing its scaly length ou higl
 a 
hideous ogre face roaring as it sails along, a 
pretty but immcnse buttcrfly flapping its wings 
like its living model, birds fl)iug about so 
life-like that one can hardly believc them to be 
made of paper, a cou.{>le of fantastically-dressed 
friends walking arm-lll-arm in the clouùs with 
an umbrella over their beads, and many other 
similarly curious things, which an Englishman 
would scarcely dream of? Yet sights such as 
these may be seen in Japanese and Chinese 
cities at any time during the kite-flying season; 
and, while thcy cannot fail to attract 1 he atten- 
tion of the observant stranger, iu common with 
the many other novelties he secs about him, 
lead him to conclude that the old meo and 
adults of those countries have, at any rate, 
some excuse for the frivolity they are accused 
of. The ability to make such extraordinary 
kites is mainly owing to the toughness, tenuity, 
and flexibility, of the Chinese and Japanese 
paper, and the abundant material for ribs and 
frames afforded by the bamboo: a plant which 
has not it
 equal for the lightness, strength, 
flexibility, and elasticity of Its fibrous 
ood. 
With t.hese simple materials, and with the 
wonderful neatness and ingenuity the Chinese 
and Japanese are famous for, it IS astonishing 
how rapidly anù easily thcy construct the odd 
and complicated figures which they fly as kites. 
Let us transport the reader to the line of 
low hills which, thickly strewn with the graves 
of the dead out of the neighbouring city of 
Foo
how-foo, skirts the picturesque foreign set- 
tlement of that port, and on wInch some vcry 
prctty kitc-flying may be seen during thc season. 
The first thing to attract his eye (presuming it to 
have haq its fill of the beautiful scencry to be 
seen around) will be the centipede kite: which, 
with its scaly joints stretching out some si'\.lq 
to a bundred feet in length, its thousand leg!:, 
and slow undulating mot.ion, looks marvellously 
likc a giant specimcn of that horrible creature 
creeping do\\n upon onc out of the clouds. 
Although complicated enough in appcaranee, 
it is very simply contrived; something lile 
it might, 'Without difficulty, be made by any 
ingenious English boy, 
 110 "ould take the 
trouble, and use sufficiently li
ht materials. 
The Chinaman constructs It thus: lie first 
prepares from fifty to a hundrcd hoops of fine 
split bamboo, tah.in
 care to make one-third the 
number he intends- to use of equal diameter, 
say a foot and a half across, and the r{'
t each 
one slightly smaller than the other, until the 
last is about t he size of a small saucer. 00 
thcse he stretches thin "hite or bro\\ n paper. 
by pastin!? the edges du" novel' thc hoop \\ ith 
wcll ground paste. On two op}!o3Ïte pOlIlt
 of 
e\ery hoop, he then fastens, 
lth fine hUlle, 
_I 



[llS 
I 
I 
i 
J 


[February 13, lSG4.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROU
D. 


small bamboo prgs of about an inch iu length 
and the size of a slatc pencil; these are in- 
tended as joints on ,,"hich to fix the legs-por- 
tions of the kite that need the most carc and 
attention. To form the le
s he procures a 
quantity of dry hollow reeds, light as a stalk of 
wheat or barlcy, and vcry similar to it in ap- 
pearance, save that the rccds are smooth and 
joiutless from end to end. Of these he selects 
"the largest., longest, aUll best, for those of his 
! I hoops which are of equal size; and, having cut 
them to an equallen
th of from t" a and a half to 
I three feet, l]e carefully balances them all, points 
one end delicately" it.h paper, by way of socket 
and to prevent cracking, and fixes them on the 
pcgs, one on either side of every hoop. For the 
remainder of the hoops, he selects reeds propor- 
II tionately shorter and lighter, according to their 
several sizes. He then connects the hoops to 
I each other at a distance of about a foot or mare 
apart, with four pieces of twine: fastening one 
over, :lIld one under, each peg, and at points 
equi-dist:mt from one another on the circum- 
ference of the hoops. Having completed the 
series, he finishes it off with a head, represent- 
ing as near as he can the ugly head and man- 
dibles of the centipedc, and thence depends the 
string with wbich the kite is flown. Thus put 
together, the kite extends over a good length; 
in order to get it up, it is necessary to take 
hold of it somewhere about the centre boop, 
and fly the tail end first.; when that rises, the 
body easily follows, and, once in the air with 
any breeze to speak of, the whole sails up as 
easily as any single piece of paper would do. 
When the time comes for the kite to be 
brought down, the person flying it lets it drop 
at fùU length when he gets it near the ground, 
so as not to tangle it; slips off the legs, 
which he ties up into a bundle; gathers all the 
boops in their order, one upon the other; ties 
them round with a bit of string; slings the t" a 
packets on his shoulder, and trudges off \\-Îth 
them through the crowded streets with as much 
ease and as little risk of hurting the kite as if it 
were a small one a foot long. 
To describe all the other kites to be 
en 
on the Foo-chow-foo hill would be to undertake 
too much, so we will only venture to speak of 
one other sort very common among the Chinese, 
and particularly effective as regards appearance 
-namely, the bird kite. 'I'he hawk or ('om- 
man kite is the bird usually represented, and, 
to make this they cut a piece of paper the exact 
shape and size of the natural bird, when on 
the wing-; this, they paint the natural colour, 
and stretch on ribs of bam boo arranged very 
much in the shape of the old Englis}
 cross- 
bow when strung, leaving the parts which re- 
present the ends of the wing and tail feathers, 
unbound by twine, so as to shiyer in the wind. 
This constructed, the kite rises with great case, 
and flies with wonderful grace of motion, imi- 
tating the rcal bird to a nicety by now and then 
taking a long swoop, then soaring again, and 
then poising itself with a flutter before repeat- 
ing the process. At times, a number of these 


kit cs are flown at once by attaching thclll at 
different intrrvals to the string of a centipede 
or some larger kite, and the 'effect IS thereby 
much increased; for the real l,.ites are in the 
habit of sailing in a flock togcthcr, as thev circle 
O\.er their prey. W 
In a previous part of this paper mention is 
made of the 1'oariug of one sort at: Chinese kite. 
It might mare correctly, perhaps, be termed 
humming or buzziug, for the noise partakes 
of both those descriptions of sound. This is 
very simply effected by fixing across the head 
or shoulders of the kite, a light bow, tightly 
strung with a ribbon of fiue hemp from one 
to three-eight.hs of an ineh in breadth; the 
bow being so poised as to bring the flat sur- 
face of the ribbon at a right angle to the line 
of the string by \vhich the kite is held, and 
of course at an acute angle to the direction of 
the wind as it blows past it. Thc ribbon, 
caught by the '" ind in this position, vibrates 
and gives forth a hum, more or less loud, ac- 
cording to the size of the instrument. The 
hum so produced may be heard at a considerable 
distance, when the kite is well up in the air, 
under a steady breeze; and it is a favourite 
pastime with the kite-flyers to get up this hum 
at all the notes and pitches their simple means 
can accomplish, They have another expedient 
to which they are very partial, that of sending 
up messengers after thcir kites, and very pretty 
and clever ones thcy succeed in making. The 
butterfly messenger is about the best
 and it 
is so made that it flutters open-winged right 
up to the kitc, whence it iDstantly and quickly 
descends: having been collapsed and closed, on 
coming into contact wit h the kite, by means 
of a little spring which forms part of its me- 
chanism. 


II 


THE STORY OF THE GUNS. 


THOUGH embracing the minutest and most 
technical particulars, without which no account 
of scientiüc disco....ery can be held to fulfil its 
purpose, The Story of the Guns, as told by SIR 
JUlES EMERSON '1'ENKENT, is as full of interest 
as if the subject described rested, for its merits, 
on the author's imaginative faculties. 1Ye have 
met with Sir Emerson in various literary capaci- 
ties, and our pages have frequently borne witness 
to his po" ers of observatIOn and picturesque 
description, and here we find him adapting his 
scientific knowledge to the development of the 
most prominent and popular topic of the day. 
Amon
 Sir Emerson Tennent's great qualifica- 
tions for his task is the fact that, at. an early age, 
he held a commission as an artillerv officer in a 
foreign service during a time of w
r. He mo- 
destly speaks of this experience as having been 
acquired in the "pl"e-scientific period," and under 
(,ircumst.ances which, however advantageous for 
observinO" the destructive powers of ordnance, 
both by land and 
ea, were little favourable to 
the study of its con
truction. But the work 
which is no',v, or shortly ,,,ill be, in everybody's 



I
 :ll 
Charles PIcken!.] ALL TIlE Y E Alt I{OU
D. [1 ",bruary 13,1" t.] 1: I' 
hanùs, show'.! that no 'Hiter could he better u .on to e"'thibit her capahil:t ies; for" Ilcn. in 
able than he to do justic t" hi" thtmc. Hi I "'Jb, a series of e'tpcriments was undf'rt 1,..11 
immediate moti,e for talin
 it up an,. e frr-,n b
 the offief'rs of thc Ho)al En3'inef'rs i1 
his un
!Ucc(' ful .lttempt to di
co\er any pub- Chatham to ascertain what thc prop! rtÌL'" of 
lished statement calculated to C'Í\ e, in the order the 
cn ice musl,.cts rl ally" ere, thou
h the 
of time and occurrence, a COÌI ccuti\'e memoir results were pcrfectly ludicrous, 110 attempt was 
of \\ hat hu
 tah.ell pldce 
ince the war in the made to inlprO\ e the weapon. Among othcr 
Crimea, in conne
iou wit II the impro\"emcnt of examples of lailure on this occasion, .I.t a tarf''lt 
riflcd arms; auù finding that none such existed, six feet wide, and elcven fect six inches high- 
he "as induced to compile the pre:,ent volume, beside "hich the grenadiers of the KitH:!' of 
.. in the hope to supply the" ant, so far as con- Prussia \\ ould have seemed likc d" arfs-. hot 
ccrus the progress madc in fngland." As we aftpr shot "as fired, from a distance of only 
have alreadv intimated, in The Story of the three hundreù yards, without one hittin
 the 
Guns that 
\ant i
 most ablyanù amply sup- mark. En'u a more stri1.in
 instance of in- 
plicd. effective firing is cited by Sir Emerson l'ennent. 
Sir En1f'rson Tennent's \\ork is diviùeù into U Not very 10nO' aO'o" he says U a ue/l trained 
t href' parts; the fir
t treats of U The Rifled marlc
t1lan, pr;vid
d with ar: old regulation 
Mus1.et;" the second of U Hifleù Ordnance;" musket, was placed to fire at a target riglde 
 
the third bears the title of "The Iron 1\a\"y." feet square, at a ùistance of three hundred 
 ards, 
13, this division the whole subject is exhausted, and found that he couM not put evell into that 
"If, according to the old military sayil1f!, spacious area one b llet out of tzeent!/. At two 
.. e,-ery bullet has its billet," its me,ming, when hundred yards, his success was not greater, and 
BrownBess (the old regulation muslet) was the 
'et the lire-arm thus testcd was the reguldr 
weapon from which the bullet issucd, must h:ive weapon of the British soldier 80 late as the 
bcen greatly qualificd. The bullet waS generally year 1852." A faithful follower of routine, 
lost in space, or buried in earth, and onlyexcep- Brown Bess continued thus to illustrate the 
tiol1ally found its billet in the quarters for which official principle by sho,\in
 that she hnew per- 
L I it was intended. At the baUle of Salamanca, for feeUy well U How not to do it." 
instance, llO more than eight thousand men were It has been over and over again asserted 
I put hors de combat, although three million five that the Duke of T\T ellington's objection to 
II llUndrf'd thousand cartridges w
re fired: together change was the reason why no improvement in 
I with six thousand ennnon-balls; to say nothing the regulation musl,.et" as attcmpted; but tardy 
' I of cavalry and infantry charges, so that, as re- justice has been done to him in this particular, 
gards thc line, only one shot in four hundred and Sir Emerson Tenncnt observes: U So far 
and thirty-seven took effect. Instances of this from being opposed to the armament of troops, 
I lind might be quoted ad infinitum, illustrative his personal friend and biof!rapher, the Chaplain 
of \\ hat 
ir :Emerson Tennent appropriately General of the Forccs, has placed on record that 
calls U the chance performances of the clumsy the Duke of 'V cllington was often heard to say 
anù capricious Brown Bess." And so little re- that' looling to the amount of mechanical s1.i11 
liance had the soldier on her capabilities, even in the country, anù the llumerical "eal,.ncss of 
within the certified range of two hundreù yards, our army as "compared with those of the great 
I that it \\as his working rule to reserve his fire continental po" ers, British troops ollght to be 
until he saw the whites of his enemy's eyes, and thc best armed soldiers in Europe.''' The 
e\en then it "as said that, before he could bring Du1.e, howenr, did more than pronounce an 
dO\m his man, he must dischar g e the full "eight opinion. ""hen, according to his invariable rule 
of his body in lead. This IIIIght very well be of \\aiting until the success of an e"\:periment 
thc case "hen, according to the testimony of an justified the adoption of a new system, he as- 
engineer officer" ho, in one of thc great battles certained, not only by cum pie, but by p'ersonal 
of the Peninsula, had an opportunity of witness- im:pection, that the 
linié rifle exlnbited a 
ing tbe efl'ect of mus1.etry upon cavalry charging marked superiority 0\ er the old musket, he did 
a square, a volley at thirty !Jaces brought du" n not hesitate to recommend its introduction into 
only three men; while another officer engaged the sen ice, or to e"tpress a wigh that eyery 
at "aterloo has stated that he could not gee soldier of the line should be armed with it. 
more tban three or four saddles emptied b) tIle Impro\'"crnent (ns was manifcstcd by the adop- 
fire of one side of a square of British infantry tion of the ),Jillie rifle) "as steadily kept in ,iew 
upon a body of French cavalry close to them. by Lord IIardinge, the Du1.e's successor in the 
" itnessin
 these abortive I Jerformancrs, a !!ene- command of t he army. But, practic"llly aC- 
ral commanding, might" e 1 h:\\ e joined in Cor- quainted \\ ith the subject, Lord Hardinge s')on 
poral Trim's rcmdrh. upon the Sieur Tripet's g) m- found that the )[inié rifle, 1Iowe\ er great a 
nastics, that "one home-thrust of a ba\"onet triumph over Brown Bess, was far from being a 
was \\orlh tbem all j" lind, indced, it ,\as." the perfect weapou. Its wei
ht was exee::>si\e, it 
colù steel" that generally did 
cttle the momell- di5played many faults of construction, and tbe 
tous question. . ball eÙibited 
rave disadvantage.., the principal 
.uut the proved illrfficacy of Bro" n Bess was of" hich :ire thus ellumerated : " Its tendency to 
held to be no dlsqualilic.ltion on her part,-or fouling- was consider,lble, the di
tended portIOns 
rather, no attempt" as made" hen the "ar was I of the projectile sometimes detachcd tbemsehr
 
II 0\ er, to rend
r her more eftieien t when nex t called anù clof!ged th e grom e s, rendering- lo ading e"t- 



I
- 
20 [February 13, 186-1,) 


[Conducted by 


AJ...L THE YEAR ROUND. 


tremely ùifficult, and occasionally the iron caps" 
(Sir Emerson Tennent illustrates all his written 
descript.ions by well-executed woodcuts), "in- 
stead of merely expanding the lead, were driven 
completely through the opposite extremity, con- 
vertmg the bullet into a distorted tube, which 
sometimes remained firmly fixed in the barrel." 
CognisRnt of these defects, one of Lord Har- 
dinge's earliest measures was the institution of 
a comprehensive inquiry into the whole subject 
of rifled arms and proJectiles; and by placing 
himself in communication with 1\11'. Purdey, 
:Mr. 1r estley Richards, and others of the leadinO' 
gunmakers in England who supplied patter
 
muskets of different diameters of bore; by 
making com r arisons of the weapons in Use in 
the armies 0 other military powers; by collect- 
ing information fl'om the leading factories of 
Europe and the United States; by aid of the 
facts and suggestions so acquired; the adop- 
tion of the musket now known as the Enfield 
rifle was resolved on, and arrangements were 
made for the organisation of a government 
factory to be provided with the re-quisite 
machinery for shaping the various parts. 
" Such," says Sir Emerson Tennent, "was the 
origin of the Enfield rifle of 1 553. It was 
stronger than its predecessor of 1851" (the 
Minié), "and at the same time the musket and 
its sixty cartridges weighed three pounds less. 
It was rifled with grooves and lands on the old 
system, with one turn in six feet six inches. 
Its diameter was .577 of an inch, and at limited 
ranges it fired a bullet \Vei
hing 530 grains 
,,,ith great accuracy and force." But, serviceable 
as this rifle proved-and its value was tested 
in the Crimean war-still it was not a per- 
fect weapon, and numerous defects became, by 
degrees, apparent, which arr thus 5tated: "The 
velocity of the ball proved to be lower than 
bad been looked for; its trajectory" (the 
parabolic line described between the muzzle of 
the gun and the object aimed at) "was conse- 
quently higher, and its precision and penetra- 
tion less; the tendency to foul was considerable, 
but what was above all embarrassing was, that 
no two guns were alike in their properties and 
peifurlìlance, although all underwent the same pro. 
cess, and were produced by the same means." 
Hence it was justly concluded that there must 
exist some subtle imperfection in the manu- 
facture, which required for its detection the 
skill and experience of a master mind, and this 
mastermind was sought in MR. .WHITWORTH, by 
general admission the greatest mechanical genius 
in Europe, and he who had been able to con- 
struct a machine so delicately and accurately 
made, as to measure objects which differ even 
by the millionth part of an inch-though not a 
gunmaker by profession-was equal to the great 
military requirement. But before he proved this, 
or accepted the government proposal to furnish 
designs for a complete set of new machinery 
for the Enfield establishment, ?ill'. Whitwortb 
insisted upon a preliminary series of scientific 
experiments, in order to determine the true 
principle ou which rille barrels ought to be COll- 


structed: which experiments he offered to con- 
duct, provided a shooting gallery was erected for 
him, under his own direction, in which to carryon 
the necessary trials, and thus obtain data for his 
guidance. Though :Mr. Whitworth's offer was 
purely disinterested-for lIe demanded no com- 
pens:ition for his valuable time, and would 
rather have incurred the necessary expense 
himself than proceed without preliminary in- 
vestigation-there was hesitation on the part 
of government as to its acceptance; but Lord 
Hardinge's energetic representations finally pre- 
vailed, and the Lords of the Treasury gave 
their assent to Mr. .Whitworth's propositions. 
There were yet delays, arising from accidental 
causes, which intorvened between the first ex- 
periments and the crowning discovery, but the 
secret was ascertained at last, and these are the 
terms in which its disclosure is stated by Sir 
Emerson Tennent: "The principle was found 
to consist in an improved system of rifling; a 
turn in the spiral four times greater than the 
Enfield rifle; a bore in diameter one-fifth less; 
an elongated projectile capable of a mechanical 
fit; and last, but not leMt, a more refined pro- 
cess of manufacture !" 
Into all the details given by Sir Emerson 
Tennent, to show the manifest superiority of 
the" 1Yhitwort,h" over t.he "Enfield" rifle, we 
do not enter; but we may mention some of the 
most striking. 'Yhen formally tried at Hythe, 
in April, 1857, in competition with the best 
Enfield muskets, in the presence of the Minister 
of ""Yar and a large assemblage of the most 
experienced officers, including the superinten- 
dent of the Enfield factory, and General Hay, 
the chief of the School of 1\1 usketry for the 
army, its success was truly surprising :-in 
range and precision the Whitworth excelled 
the government musket, three to one. Two 
diagrams accompany the statement of this fact, 
showing the closeness of the "Whitworth" 
shooting as compared with the scattered shots 
of the "Enfield;" but here, where we have no 
diagram to convince the eye, We must quote the 
written words: "U p to that time the best 
figure of merit obtained by any rifle, at home 
or abroad, was 27; that is to say, the best 
shooting h::ld given an average of shots within 
a circle of twenty-seven inches mean radius, at 
500 yards distance; but the .Whitworth lodged 
an average of shots within a mean r
dius of 
four inches ami a half from the sallie dIstance, 
thus obtaining a figure of merit of 4!. At 
800 yards its superiority was as 1 to 4, a pro- 
portion which it maiutained at 1000 yards and 
upwards. At 1400 yards the Enfield shot so 
wildly that the records ceased to be kept; and 
at 1800 yards they ceased altogether, while the 
1Yhitworth continued to exhibit its accuracy as 
before." 
The result of the trial at Hythe was the ap- 
pointment of an official committee, competent 
to deal with the question, and of which 1\11'. \Vhit- 
worth W:lS himself a member. In that satisfactory 
and exemplary fashion which is peculiar to 
fficial 
committees, eighteen months were spent III de- 



-=-, 
21 


Charles Dicken..] 


.\.LL TIlE YEAR ItOFXD. 


[Febroary 1 , I 4.) 


suHory discussions and experiments, when a 
lop-sided report v. as n1.ldf', which recorded no 
consistent recommenJat ion sufiicient for thc 
A'llidance of the Secretary at" ar; and although 
no one" ith eyes to 
ee, or ability to form a 
jud
mcnt, could doubt the superior merits of 
tbe Whitworth rifle, the makin
 of the Enfield 
mush.et went on with unabated assiduity. Not, 
hov.evcr, with perfect fairnrss to\\ards the in- 
. ventor of the best weapon, for, in continuing' to 
manuf,tCture the "Enfield, 
ome of the ]eaùin!r 
features of the Whitworth v. ere introduced, 
such as the reduced diameter of the bore and 
thc increased rapidity of the rifling. let with 
all its borrowed improvements, the Enfield 
musket still remained mferior to the Whit\\ orth 
ritlc: the testimony of General Hay, the mo
t 
impartial witness that could be found, being- 
conc1usi\e on that point. In the 
tatement made 
by him, in lSIJO, to thc Institute of Civil En- 
gllleer
, he said: "There is a peculiarity about 
thc Whitworth small-bore rifles \\ hich no othrr 
similar arms have yet exhibited; thf'!! 710t only 
give greater accuracy of firÍ1lg but triple poteer 
of pendratio l; and this last prorcrty, oue of 
t1le highest importance in a military \\ capon, 
"as shown in the fact that the Whitworth pro- 
jectile would penetrate a sandbag- and a half, 
while the Enfield only penetrated one bag; 
and the samc proportion existed ehewhere, 
the Whih\orth projectile f!'oing throllgh a three- 
foot g-abion, while the Enficld only reached its 
middle." It appears t hat in every trial", hich 
has been made with the \\ hit worth rifle, its 
superiority over every other fire-arm has been 
conceded; and a picturesque incident, recorded 
by Sir Emerson Tennent, exhibits its most 
,'a]uablc propert.y-prwision. "At Wimb]edon, 
in lSGO, the first meeting (of the National Rifle 
Association) was inaugurated by thc Queen in 
person, w1JO fircd the first shot from a Whit.worth 
I rifle, striking the bull's-cye at only one inch and 
a half from the centre, at a distance of 100 
' I Tarcl } s:-a ] shot \\ h!ch! conside . rin g that it was 
firel III t Ie open air, IS proba >ly thc most mar- 
vellous ever fired from a rifle." 
It ,\ ill naturally be ashd, after all these 
proofs-sufficient even for a Dogberry's sat is- 
bction-\\ hy has not the Whitworth rifle been 
made to supersede the Enfie]d? The reasons 
adduced by the U Ordnance Select Committee," 
whicb presented its report to parliament last 
year, are severa], but none of them conclusive. 
l
esides the objection arising from the e"'tpense 
already incurred in manufacturin
 an incomplete 
uea})on-an objection wearing- thc hue of the 
reddest of reel tape-thc cost is urged of altcr- 
ing the machinrry at J
nfield so as to adapt it 
for the production of the Whitworth: though it 
appears that this Can be ùone for a com para- 
tl\ely small sum, and that, once effected, as 

[r. \\ hitworth declares, the mush.ct rilled on 
his principle can be manufactured at the same 
cost as the Enfield, U the present quality of 
mat
rial and \vorL.manship being thc same." 
It IS also stated that certain '" ear and tear 
(which can be remedied) and the slendel11eo;s of 


the Whih\orth c'utrielrre, rendering it li...ble to 
break (\\hich has been o\'crcome), are imr di- 
menls \\ hich retard the aJoption of th(' 1\ .lll- 
bore rille; hut, lortunate]y, it appears that, to 
use the", ords of Sir Emerson '1 ennent, U LTe 
long the British soldier will be animated b) the 
eonseiou"ne s of possessing- an arm the mo"t 
perfect th.lt the science of his country, COm- 
bined '" ith hi
h mechanic"l ability, can pro- 
Juce,"-thc "Committee on Small-borf' Rifles" 
havin
, in their report, presented to parli,lment 
in 1863, expre_
ed their conviction as {oHows : 
U That as the tendency of the prc. ent s

tem 
of musketry instrurtion is calculated ere long 
to attain a very high standard of shooting 
throughout the army, the introduction of a 
"capon of long range and great nrecision \vill 
naturally increase the genera] efficicncy oi in- 
fantry, dnd place it in a position to keep down 
the fire of thc new rifled artilIery, which is one 
of the creations of our own day." This pa,,- 
sage brings us to the closc of the first part of 
Sir Emer
on Tennent's valuab]c book, and con- 
ducts us naturally to the subject of "Rifled 
Cannon," which occupies its next di\Ï.sion. 
It begins with a llarrati\c of the earliest at- 
tempts to effect in artillef) -particularly in 
field guns-a revolution correspondent with 
that which had been wrought iu musketry. The 
idea of ritling artillery, Sir Emerson Tennent 
tell., us, "as not a new one; it had been tried 
in Germany a century before our time; amI, ns 
[,n' bael.. as 1715, in Eng]and, by Hobins, the 
inventor of thc ballistic pendulum; while 
Ponchara, at Paris, in ISH); Montigny, at 
Brussels and St. Petersburg', in lS:JG; and, 
more recently, Colonel Ca\alli, in Sardinia, and 
Baron "\Vahrendorf, in Sweden; madc renewed 
attcmpts; but the mcasure of their success wao; 
not attestcd bv the adoption of any of their 
plans. Colonel Treuille de Beaulieu also made 
experiments ill France bctween 1510 and lb52 
but it was reserved for the gentleman who, at 
the later date, took possession of everything in 
that country-including, perhaps, a fe\\ ideas the 
property ot other men, t hough he is considered 
"an authority in artillery" -to mah.e the theory 
of rifled cannon a reality. And in the Italian 
campaign of 1856 it occupied that place 
amongst "thc ]ogie of facts" '" hich thence- 
forward could never more be contested. The 
result of the e"\.periments at 
Iagenta and 
ol- 
ferino \\as "the signal for the reconstruction 
of all the artillery of Europe." .And Sir Emer- 
son Tennent follows up dus remark by enume- 
rating the inventions of Lancaster, llash]ey 
Brittcn, Professor Treadwell (of )Iac;saclmsetts), 
Captain lllakcley, Horsfall, and others-mah.ing 
obscrvations on the re
pectivc merits of each, 
hut reM'r\ ing a full description for those of the 

rcat li\als-Arrnstrong and 'Vhitworth-who 
htwe been most prominently before the British 
public. 
A brief but \ cry interesting memoir intro- 
duccs Sir "\Villidm Armstrong to the rc..ader, and 
then Sir Emerson Tennent procccds to d 'ribe 
the progres
 he made iu the manufdcture of 


'. 


r 


I. 


I: 



22 [February 13,1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROU
D. 


I 
II 


riflcd artillery, after he had been fir
t moved to 
the consideration of the question, by that fea- 
ture of the battle of Inkermann, the brinf{ing 
up of the two 18-pounder guns, which, by their 
superior range, effectually silenced the Russian 
fire. " Sir \V. Armstrong," sa
s Sir Emerson 
Tennent, "was amonf{st those \\ ho perceived 
that another such emcrgency could only be met 
by imparting to field-guns the accuracy and 
range of the rifle; and t.hat the impediment of 
weight must. be removed by substituting forged 
instead of cast-iron gllns. With his earliest 
design for the rcalisation of this conception, he 
vaited on the Secretary for "War, in 1854, to 
propose the enlargement of the rifle musket to 
the standard of a field-gun, and to substitute 
elongated projectiles of If'ad instead of balls of 
cast-iron. Encouraged by the Duke of New- 
castle, he put together his first wrought-iron 
gun in the spring of 1855." Of this gun Sir 
Emerson Tennent gives an elaborate descrip- 
tion, accompanied by some excellent woodcuts, 
and fully discusses the advantages and disad. 
vantages of breech-loading, ,,"hich he considers 
"undoubtedly the most assailable portion of the 
Armstrong system," giving the substance of the 
opinions of the most profoundly scientific en- 
gineers as his authority for arriving at that 
conclusion. For the rest, the merits of the 
Armstrong guu were looked upon as so great, 
that the \Var-office authorities pronounced in 
the most decided manner in its favour-the re- 
sult being expressed as foHows, in the homely 
but forcible language of an Edinburgh re- 
viewer: "The Armstrong gun could hit a 
target 2 feet G inches in diameter, while the 
(old) service gun could not be relied npon to 
hit a haystack." General Peel further illus- 
trated the capabilities of the Armstrong gun, 
by saying, in the House of Commons, in the 
session of 1859, that "its accuracy at 3000 
yards was as 7 to 1 compared with that of the 
common gun at 1000; whilst at 1000 yards it 
" auld hit an object every time which was 
slruck by the common gun only once in fifty
 
seven times; so that at equal distances the 
Armstrong gun was fifty-seven ti'llleS as accurate 
as our ordinary artiller.y." 
But only one side of the important question 
Lad been fairly heard at the time when General 
Peel pronounced so decisively in favour of the 
Armstrong gun; nor, indeed, has a fair trial 
yet been made betwecn that wcapon and the 
invention of :ThIt-. 1Yhitworth. It \vas natural to 
suppose that the engineer who succecded in 
manufacturing the best rifled musket., should 
be considered capable of rivalling anyone in 
the construction of rifled artillery: the prin- 
ciple having becn clearly established that what 
"as applicable in the one case was equally 
applicable in the other. Accordin
ly, between 
the 
ears 18.34 and 1857, Mr, Whitworth was 
repeatedly solicited þy the Commander-in-Chief 
and the Master-Gencral of the Ordnance to 
extend his attention to artillery; and brass 
blocks were supplied to him from the royal 
factory, adapted to diffcrent bores, which, at 


the request of the government, he riflcd pol\'- 
gonally. .All of them when tried at Shoe- 
bur,vness were reported on favourably. Im- 
pressed by this result, but still more so by the 
extraordinary performance of 
Ir. .Whitworth's 
rifle, in his gallery at Manchester, in 1856, 
Lord Hardinge expressed the wish that he 
should apply the same system of rifling to heavy 
ordnance. This being agreed to, solid brass 
blocks for three 24-pounder howitzers were sent . 
down to 
Iallchester, to be bored and hexagonally 
rifled. The result of the performances of these 
guns when ready for trial is thus stated by Sir 
Emerson Tennent: "Of these one was sent for 
trial to Shoeburyness, where its performance 
was at that time regarded as something remark- 
able. 1Vith a charge of 2t Ibs. of powder, and 
at an elevation of 14! deg., it sent an elongated 
projectile a distance of 3240 Jards. Another 
was tried on April 14, 1857, in the grounds at- 
tached to :Mr. .Whitworth's residence, near 
Manchcst.er; and a few weeks after the same 
gun, in order to test its range, was again tried 
Ìn presence of military officers deputed by the 
\Var Office, on the sands to the north of the 
l\Iersey, a few miles from Liverpool. 1! p to 
that time, according to Sir Howard Douglas. 
the ordinary range of a 24-poullùer, with a 
charge of 8lbs, of powder, fired at an elevation 
of 8 deg., was 2200 yards; Mr. Whitworth's 
rifled gUll, with a charge of only 2! lbs. of 
powder, fired at an elevation of 8i deg., sent a 
shot of 241bs. to a distance of 3500 yards, being 
nearly two miles." And here an incident oc
 
curred which reminds us of l\Iause Headrigg's 
astonishment, when, "by the help of the Lord," I 
she fonnd that, mounted on a trooper's horse, 
she had leaped a wall. "This range so far ex- I I I 
ceeded anticipation, that sufficient caution had 
not been exercised in selecting a locality free I 
from obstruction; and the shot, after striking 
the sand, ricochetted to the right of the line of 
fire, and entering a marine villa north of the 
village of \r aterloo, it rolled upon the carpet, 
fortunately doing no greater damage than de- 
molishing' the window and astonishing a larly 
who was seated near the drawing-room fire." 'l'he 
third 24-pound howitzer was tried at Ports- 
mouth, which, loaded with a flat.headed pro- 
jectile of peculiar construction, displayed the 
singular property of maintaining its dircct course 
under water, and penetrating eight inches of 
oak three feet below the surface; an exploit 
previously held (by no meaner authority than 
Sir Howard Douglas) to be impossible. 
Up to this period (1857), J\Ir. ,rhitworth's 
inventions had received their due share of atten- 
tion from government; but in 1858 a conjunc- 
ture arrived, the consequences of which were a 
diminution of the confidence previously reposed 
in his ability. At the close of the Crimean war, 
an apprehension of French invasion which Eng- 
land was unprepared to resist, prevailed through- 
out tlIP country. It had been excited, partly 
bv the Duke of \Vel1inO'ton's warning in his cele- 
brated letter to Sir J
Burgo.vne, partly by the 
evidence of unusual activity ill the French dock- 
' I 



["''"ruary In, 18 4.] 


C) :J I I 


ALL TIlE YL\B. I
OL:ND. 


Cha.rle. Dlcli.cnl.] 


I 
'I 
I 


,.ards and nrspnals, p.lrtlv by the insolence of 
the u French Coloneb," èlarnouriog-aftc r Dr. 
Bernard'
 trial-to be scnt to the s
ck of Lon- 
don. It "as a moment of serious an'tiety, and 
the que:ltion of ordn.1Dce \\ as one of the e,lrliest 
taken up by the D('rhy cabinet, thenuewly come 
into Po\\ ('r-8. J lport brill!; required by Gcner..l 
Peel. the Secrehry of Statr f01' War, of the 
trials tllat had been made of the st'veral CdlillOn 
tendered for adoption into the servief'. Coloud 
I..efroy, at that timc scientific adviser of the War 
Department on matters connected \vith al tillery, 
drcW' up a summar
, in \, hich, after commeJltin
 
on thc qualities of the different guns under 
rC\ ic\\, and ob
crviIlg that u e,.ery clement WdS 
\\ auting on "hich to base a decision as to the 
adoption of any one s
stem," he recommended 
the immediate appointment of a Committee on 
Rifl d Guns, \\ ith instructions to examine, with 
the least possible delay, all the Leavy rifled guns 
extant, and to render a detailed account of their 
respecti\ e performances and capabilities for gar- 
rison and n:J.Val sen ice. The committee \\ as 
accordingly appointed, and, h,\ving concentrated 
tbeir attention on the rival claims of the Arm- 
strong and \\ hit worth guns, made their report 
within less than three months. As if their choice 
had bcen predetermined, only a very few trials 
\\ f're made with ,he Whitworth C'un, without any 
opportunity being gi\'en to 
Ir. Whitworth to be 
present at them. And their report stated that 
they found his projectiles had a large and rapidly 
increasing deflection to the right, which ob- 
structed aecurac} of aim; that the shot and 
shell used \\ ith the gun gave different rnncres 
and different degrees of accuracy; that the shot 
wcre so liable to" jam" in loading that very care- 
ful washing and drying of the gun was indis- 
pensable alter every round; and that although 
Mr. Wllih\orth had overcome this last objection 
by the use of lubricating wads, which "ap- 
peared to answer well," further trials, they said, 
were necessary to determine their sufficiency to 
enable \\ ashing- to be dispen
ed with. 
These conclusions "ere, in fact, a decisioIl 
against ::\lr. Whit\\ orth's gun, while on all 
points the rcport was favourable to that of Mr. 
Armstrong, who being on the spot was able 
to modify objections. Basing their report on 
the facility of loading the Armstrong guns, 
on their accuracy, and apparent durability- 
qualitips which, in all probability, 
ould not 
have been def'med exclusive, had a more 
lengthened and equal trial been made-they 
recommended .. the immediate introduction of 
guns rifled on )[r. Armst ronH's principle, for 
special service in the field." This report, 
5a

 :Sir Emerson Tennent, "bears unmistakable 
traces of the urg('ncy and speed with which the 
membl'l"s conducted their inquiry, and probably 
to this cause is to be ascribed an omission, much 
to be regretted, since it Las al1'orded ground for 
complaint by Mr. Whitworth, on the score of 
precipitancy, and of inadequate e'tamination 
into thc merits of his gun, as compared with the 
attenLion bcsto\\ ed on the competing one." 
Prccipitdncy, if not bias, was also sho\\ n by thc 


committee on their rcfrdining from vi::.iting 'Ir. 
Whit\\ orth's fdctory, ocr Jrdi l!J to promi8e; \\ hile 
they fulfilled their decl..red intention of in,, ! )('ct- 
ing the Armstron!; works at :Elswick. ' 'heir 
dcci'lion. ho\\ evcr, \\ .,s final, amI the Armstrong 
gun \V.h adopted, \\ hile yet incomplete, in direct 
opposition to the \\ isc objcction left on reeord 
by t he Duke of W ellin
ton, against the adoption 
of unfinished experiments, and imperfect in- 
ventions. It mu
t, ho\\ ever, be stated, that 
it was onl'\" the light Armstrong gun which was 
adopted for field service-those of heat ier 
calibre for fortifications and the lL.'\VY, being 
left for future considcration, at the instance 
bot h of Lord Dt'rby :md General Peel. 
Sir Emerson TenIlent next relates the history 
of'Ir. Armstrong's appointment of Director ôf 
Rifled 01 dnance, of Engineer to the \\' Ill" De- 
partment (when he was knighted), and finally 
of Superintendent of the Itoyal Gun-factory at 
Wool wicht with all the particulars of the go- 
vernment contract with the Elswick company. 
1Ve do not dwell upon these points, the matter 
being more special than general, and The 
Story of the Guns reqUIring us rathcr to follow 

Ir. Whitworth's further experiments. Though 
no lo
er in intimate relation with the "ar 
Office, 

Ir. Whih\orth continued to place at 
the disposal of the authorities the use of his 
patcnts for further discoveries, the expenses of 
\\ hich were defrayed from his private rc
ources ; 
and though not the succesbful competitor for 
the honour (and profit.) of sUEpl
 ing the na- 
tional gun, was cmployed b.v Lord Panmurc, 
when Secretary of State for \f ar (at the close 
of 18;;7), ill rifling a cast.iron block for a 
32-pounder, the intention bein
 to determine 
the capacity of tlJat metal for the manufacture 
of rifleù ordnance. 'This gUll burst under trial, 
as afterwards did another of the same metal 
and calibre; but notwithstanding these cvi- 
dence
 of the insufficiency of cast-iron, ::\Ir. 
Whit\\orth rifled a third gun. a 6S-pounder, in 
June, 1858, mainly to test the po\\er of a new 
projectile, an experiment which, so far as the 
projectile wcnt, was a completc triumph, but 
the gun was rent into fragments by the explo- 
sion, The causes of this accident were ex- 
plained by 
Ir. .Whitworth in a letter depre- 
cating the further use of cast metal for rifled 
cannon; hut the c"{planation was not recei\ ed, 
thc Secretary for "Tar (General Peel) directing 

Ir. Whih\Orth to be informed that he had 
(logit'ally!) determined" to discontinue furthcr 
experiments with ordnance rifled 0 !li8 prin- 
ciple !" 
Mr. -Whitworth met this attack on his 
scicntific reputation by resolving at once, from 
an amateur artillerist, to become a professional 
gunmaker, never ha\ ing had, as he stated 
beforc the House of Commons Committee of 
1 '\63, the most distant idea of becoming" a 
manufacturer of rifled arm
. "I took it up," 
he said, "originally, solely because I W15. re- 
quested bv the gO\ emment, but when I reeeind 
this letter from Gencral Peel to inform me tbat 
no more experiments "ere to be made with suns 



24 


[Fcbruary 13, ISGJ.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


on my principle, I determincd at once to become 
a manufacturer, and to prove that my system 
was right. .With respect to the rifle, it has 
already been shown that it was so; and I think 
it will soon be admitted that I was right with 
regard to ordnance also." That qucstion is 
the great one yet to be determined, but pending 
Mr. .Whitwort.h's resolve, and the results which 
he anticipates, he founded his rifled ordnance 
manufactòry at Manchestel', and set to work 
upon the construction of the existing .Whit- 
',"orth gun, which, to be brief in our de- 
scription, is fOl'med of a tube of one piece of 
homoO'eneous iron, hooped by hydraulic pressure, 
a mu
zle or breech-loader uniform of bore, ritled 
upon the principle already applied to small arms, 
and fitted with elongated iron pmjectiles. How 
this gun has answered was shown in the ex- 
periments made on thc South port Sands in the 
spring of 1860, when its extreme accuracy and 
wonderful rangc were tested,-the latter, it 
must be observed, implyÌl]g the former, a prin- 
ciple laid down by the best artillerists. The 
range, then, on this occasion, is stated as 
follows: 
"The smallest of the guns, a 3-pounder, 
'niçhing' only 208 Ibs., fired at an elevation of 
35 (leg., threw a shot to the distance of %88 
yards, or a little more thanfive 711ilcs and a half" 
-an excess of 500 yards over the greatest 
range ever reached by an Armstrong gun, though 
a 32-pounder, and fired with ß lb. of powder at 
the same angle. Yet even the remarkable 
achievement of 1860 has been since exceeded 
by 1\11'. Whitworth, his 12-pounder gun having 
sent. a ball 10,300 yards, a very little short of 
si:c miles! It was clear after this extraordinary 
result that a renewed trial between the .Whit- 
worth' and Armstrong guns could no longer be 
refused, and it was ordered to take place. WIlY 
it never came off, arose from the nature of the 
conditions, whony unfavourahlc to .Mr. 'Yhit- 
worth, ,,"hich thc Ordnauce Select CommIttee 
sOlwht to impose on him. Here the actual 
Sto
y of the Guns may be said to end, the issue 
between the competitive weapons being as 
yet undetermined, but the remainder of Sir 
Emerson Tennent's book, which describes the 
rise and pro$ress of the iron navy, and its. capa- 
bilitv of resIsting the newly invented artillery, 
is fù'u of valuable and interesting matter. 
.What aspect the comparative experiments 
which wiU shortly commence, are to wpar,appears 
in the following passage: .. They will be con- 
ducted, not by the usual Ordnance Committec, 
composed exclusivelv of military and naval 
officers, but by anotlìer speciaIly named, with 
whom two scientific civilians have been asso- 
ciated 
Ir. John Penn and :Mr. Pole, the former 
disting.uished in the highest walks of his profcs- 


sion as a mechanical engineer. The programme 
of tests to wllich the guns are to be subjected 
will doubtless include evcry point essential to 
determine all questions of construction, velocity, 
range, and precision; rapidity of firing, powers 
of destruction, and length of endurance. The 
issue of this important contest will be watched 
by the public with profound and unwonted in- 
terest-but the result, to whichever side victory I 
may incline, must not be permitted again to 
close the gates against the honourable ambition I I 
of other aspirants. Sir William Armstrong and 
Mr. WhitwortJl are but two ont of those clamour- 
ing for admission; others in due course of time 
will advance their pretensions, and whatever be 
the result of the approaching trial, whether it 
attcst the superiority of the Armstrong gun, or 
point to its supcrcession by the .Whitworth, no 
judgment, as between them, must preclude the 
just claims of other rivals to an equally dispas- 
sionate scrutiny." .With respect to prolonged 
competition, SÜ' Emerson 'l'ennent closes his 
admirable work with these remarks: "The dis- 
interred utensils of ext.inct races, the implemcnts 
discovered in the tumuli of Asia, and in the earth- 
mounds of the Mississippi; even the instru- 
ments found in the tombs of Etruria and Upper 
Egypt, as well as in the dwelliI]gs and workshops 
of Pompeii, exhibit combinations of mechanical 
parts as effective for their objects as those em- 
ployed at the present time, There is no reason 
why similar excellence should not be attainable 
in ordnance; nor why science should ]]ot be so 
successfully applied to the construction of large 
guns as to render them, by a combination of 
strength and simplicity, so nearly perfect as 
practically to require no further imprO\-emellt. 
But till that point shall have becn attained, com- 
pet.ition 111ust remain open; and whatever be 
the temporary inconvenicnces of. change, the 
abiding interests of the country WIll hencefo
th 
require that the man who reaches the hlßh 
eminence of giving his name to the arms wIth 
whose protection the nation repoaes should hold 
it by no other tenure than that of uncontested 
supcriority." 


KEW WORK BY MR. DICKEXS, 
In 3Ionthly Parts, uniform with the Original :Lditions of 
"I'ickwick," .. Copperlield," &c. 
In 
IAY wiU be published, PART I., price Is., of 


A NEW WORK BY CHARLES DICKENS 


IY TWEKTY JIOKTIILY PAllTS. 
London: CnAPMAY and HALL, 193, Piccadilly. 


On thc lGth of Febrnal1' will be published, bound in 
cloth, price [is. ùd., 


THE TE
TH VOLU]IE. 


The Right of Trwzslating Articles þ07Jl ALL THE YEAR l{o{;
m is rese1"1:ed by the Autho,'s. 


I 
II 
I 


Fuh1';!-.hp a!" the rJlí ,. XC-I :.:t J w. H
.(11l....1 


I .111' " C \\"1I111"(G. Bt:..I.u(nrt 11,....Il"l...:iuRnd. 



TIIF STORY OF OCI
 LIYFS FRO::\I YEAR TO YEAI::'-SuAKEBPEARE. 


'I 
I 


l
LL TIlE YEAR Ii 0 UND. 


_\ \VEEKL Y Jounx \L. 
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
WITH WIIICII 15 IXCORPOI
.\Tr;D HûCSElIOLD WORDK 


I. 


x o . 
.j2.J 


[PRICE 2([. 


S \ rUl1DA Y, FEllRU \l1Y 20, 186 t 


QUITE ALO
E. 


- 


,I 


BOOK TIlE FIRST: CHILDHOOD. 
CII"HTER III. :senSE PIGOTT. 
THE Chis wick festi\al camc to an end, and the 
cc '
l'all) departed. Griffin BlUllt lingcred to 
the l"st, lllll '\I."und his wa)" to the door of 
qre
.., through a sill.cn lab
Tillth of polite 
C nn,r<:ations and bouing adicux. Ivanhoff's 
lll')t aria, and 
IL
libran's last cadencc; Prince 
Estf'\"haz} 's last convcrsazione, and the Dul.e 
of Devllnshire's h.st ball at Brighton; the odds 
for the St. Leger, thc beautics of dnm n tulle 
bonnets; taste and the musical gla<;ses-",ithout 

hal::Jpearc-had each their grace:ul mention, as 
Bhnt fluttered in and about thc IJarterres of 
bea It)" and fashion. The sct.ne at the 
atc was 
lit..e the Ct ush-room at the Opera, onl)" \\ ith mellow 
sunlight turned on, instcad of ;arish gas-like 
the" IJin" at St. James's without the trains and 
plumes. The company had begun to ) awn. 
Ehn Fashion is not excmpt from the laws of 
fa+i3ue; and perhaps one reason why great 
people grow tired of one another, is that they 
sce one anothcr so flequently-the endurable 
uorId being so extremely small. 
)1r. Blw1t had di\ers offers of conve)ance to 
to\\ n. IIe might have continued a Squirc of 
D:mcs to the last, and sat behind the most 
e>"pcllsively jobbed horscs in the metropolis. 
nut hc courteously declined all such proposals. 
Hc had a little bu::,iness to transact, hc said, and 
he was C\"CI'} body's hwnblc amI de\'oted ser\"ant. 
Hc relílained, ho\\ e\"cr, chatting, bowing, smiling, 
wltil the crush grew thin, until the sbamefaced 
pt.üple who had come down in gla...s - coaches 
and hacJ..neys took heart of grace and bade the 
nJ jaclcts summon their hired \ chicles, and 
until one or two attachés of forcifPl k.;atiolls, 
lnlJ hardencd Guardsmcn, lindkd their cigars 
before str0 1 1ing awa). In justicc to thcm it 
mu:,t 
 <1 mitt ed, that e\ en these offendcrs 
1) elJed round to see thcrc u ere no ladics near. 
Xow-a-da)s, shame and the smoler ha\c been 
hopcle sly divorced. So far froUl hcsitating as 
to lighting a cigar in a lad) 's prescncc, the \\ or- 
shipper of nicotine well-nigh presumcs to ask 
Douty for a Y csuvian. A qui la fautc? Is 
Beauty or Bæot ia to blame? 
The trecs of Chi
\Vick \\ ue bathed. in crimson 


\OL. XI. 


and burnished gohl, and cast shadows of del nbt 
purple, before lllunt llimself nnturcd to 1 óht 
his cigar. When he began to smolc, he 

moled \ igorousl)", and as he "alked away'" ith 
a firm ha
ty tread, the ",hite wreaths of \"apour 
circling behind him, his gait seemed vcry diffuent 
from tLat of the mincing tril'pin
 CX(luiÙe of 
half an Lour ago. Had you had Fortunatu::,'s cap, 
or had )OU bcen in the receipt of fern seed, )ou 
might ha\ e availul ) ourself of the privilege úf in- 
\ i
ibilit}, troddcn on his varnished heel-m..ul....d. I 
how nel"\.ou
ly he turned and started, although 
he had but scrunched a pebble-and then, look- 
ing in his face, have discO\ ered, not mUlout 
I I 
amazement, that hi
 face \\ as as the face (.f an 
old man. 
Terribly jaded, haggard, and careworn. _\ 
film secmed to ha\"e come onr the e) cs. K 0 
"il,"er, but a l"U8t rather, mingled with the jetty 
hair and wbisL.ers. And the smile had fled away 
from the mouth, and left only furrows of cruelty 
and hardness there. 
He struck into a by-lane, green and solitary as 
though it llad been fift} miles from London, and 
\\ all..ing rapidl
, soon came upon a mean littl" 
\\ ayside tavern, all thatch and ivy and honey- 
suckle, and with the sign of the Goat swing- 
ing before it. He rasscd through the bar, where 
two marlet gardeners sprauled over thcir I ipe" 
and beer on a bench-one, a", ake and uproarious; 
the other, aslecp and snoring; both as happ
. 
doubtless, as the Great :Mogul. lIe turned to a 
littlc sidc-", indow, and in the most unaffected 
manner in the \\orld ordercd a glass of brandy. I 
He, order brand)"! }.c\"crtLcless, he not only I 
did order brand)", but dranl it \\ithout fl.inchin
; I 
and, what is 
till more singular, paid for it-a 
performancc to which he was, to say thc Ie t, I 
ul1accu
tomcd. HOWt vcr, this was to be for )fr. 
munt an e\ening unu::Jually n 11lcd by the dis- 
bursement of ready ruolle). 
"There is a person here \\ ith a child," hc I 
haiti, le
s asling a que
tion than asserting some- 
thing of \\ hich llc entertained no doubt. I 
"In the parlour, sir," the landlad} reptlcù, 
with a low curtsc)"; for gentlemen so gallant ly 
accoutred were b) no means frequent customcrs I 
at the Goat. 
lIe looked inquiringly fGI' the parlour's whcre- 
about. The landlady bustleJ from behind her 
counter, and ushered him into a little room 
at the extremity of the p
sagc, and then fC- 


2
 



i-; 
II 
I 
I 


ALL THE YEAr.. ROUND. 


[CoDductcd by 


[Ft.." ruary 20. 15M.] 


turned to gossip with her daughter about the 
beautiful teeth [ind whiskers and gold chain of 
the distinguished stranger. 
" Aud such a 10vel
T little angel of a child as is 
a 
 aitiu' for him," the hostess pursued, "his 
da.'ater, for sure." 
"Is her mother 'íith her?" asked Phæbe, the 
daughter. 
"Her mother!" echoed the landlady ill great 
disdain. "Do rou think, child, such a grand 
gentleman would bring his wife here among the 
I likes of us_ No, no, it must be the nuss; for 
; I she's onl
T got on a cotton print dress and an 
eight-3.nd-hventy shilling sha,vI, and her bon- 
net 'd be dear [it four-and-elevenpcnce, strings 
and alL" 
" What does he bring her here for, and what 
could such a grand gentleman want ,Üth four 
penn'orth of brandy?" persisted Phæbe, who 
was of an inquiring disposition. 
"There, go along child, and wash up 
-our 
glasses," cried the landlady in a pet: probably 
because she too was umble to ans,yer these 
questions to her own satisfaction. "It ain't no 
business of ours. :Maybe he likes brandy, though 
the nuss had a pint 0' ",ine and a sweet biscuit, 
and paid for it like a lady. Go along, I say, and 
I don't stand chattering there." '''hereupon 
I 
lrs. Landlady, ....ho was somewhat hot of 
tempcr, elbowed her daughter into a small cavern 
used as a lavatory for the drinking, essels of the 
II establishment, and entered into comnmnion with 
I 
I a piece of chalk and a slate: not, however, being 
, able to dissociate }Jerturbed cogitations as to 
I ' her customers from the otherwise absorbing 
occupation of calculating ....hat additions might 
II be discreetly made to the score of the t" 0 
market gardeners, while the one was snoring, and 
!II the other singing a song certainly without begin- 
ing, and seemingly without end. 

leamvhile the object of this conversation had 
I cntered the pm-lour and made his salutations to 
I its occupants. These salutations were of a two- 
, fold nature. 
[ I I "How do you do, Nurse Pigott?" he said, 
with an affable nod and a forccdsmilc, to afubsy 
I dumpy woman "ithaveryrcdround face,and for 
II whose attire the brief but graphic summary given 
I by the landlady to her daughter will amply suffice. 
" All "ell with you at home. I hope?" 
,I "Kiccly, sir, which it also left my husband, 
thankin' rou kindly, and glOl"Y be," responded 
I the dumpy woman, rising and dropping a pro- 
found reverence. "But oh, sir, Miss Lily have 
been a takin' on dreadfuL" 
"'Vhat's the matter with her-the little 
puss:" exclaimed Blmlt, sharply. And this 
was his second salutation. 
The "little puss" ,vas sitting on the dump)- 
"oman's knee, Indeed, she was a very little 
puss-a tiny fair girl of three years old. She 
had very long brown hair curling in thick pro- 
fusion round her chubby face. She had yerr 
large ,yondering blue eyes; but these, on the 
pre
ent occasion, were red and s" ollen. Her 


,,-hole face 'Was suffused ..... ith the moisture of 
sorrow. Her little lips were t,,-itching. It was 
e, ident that the" littlc puss" had bccn cr) ing 
her e
 es out. 
"Be quiet, miss, and don't be naughty, or I 
shall tell Nurse Pigott to give 
-ou a whipping," 
said Blunt. 
His words "ere harsh and unfeeling; but 
oddly enough his manner was not so. He spoke 
less in anger than in the languid tone of an 
Indian Begum telling her slave-girl that really, 
if she gave her any more trouble, she would be 
compellcd to ha,.c her buried alive. It may be I 
that he had enjoyed very very little expe- 
rience of children, and erroneously imagined that 
whipping was the only specific course of treat- 
lllent ayailable in the case of tears. At any rate, II 
the till-eat had not the desired effect, the 
child being evidently aware that Kurse Pigott 
was no more likely to execute it than to cut her 
head off with a carying-knife. So she began to 
cry louder than eyer. 
"Tut, tut, tut!" 1\lr. Blunt murmured, pacing 
the room in vexation, "Dear me, dear me, 
K urse Pigott, this is very embarrassing, and not 
at all fair to me, JOU know_ 'Vhen I paid your 
last month's bill, and told 
.ou I was obliged 
to take :Miss Lily away, I distinctly informed 

-ou there" as to be no CIJ ing. 11y nerves can't 
stand it, they can't, indeed." But there was 
little good in reasoning with Nurse Pigott. 
" Oh! sir," she sobbed out, half essa
 ing to 
comfort Lily, and half to dry her own eyes with 
the comer of her shawl, "I can't help it, I can't 
indeed, sir, when I thinks of that there blessed 
innocent which I took from the breast, and 11ave 
never lcft, night nor day, for three ycarsJ ani"erry, 
likewise nursing her through measles and hoop- 
in' -cough, and all her pretty ways, a pulling of 
us all to pieces, and lmngin' round us, and my 
'usband is a-fond of her as if she was his own, 
which we have buried t".o and the twins being 
the on
 ofthem that's left is but sickly, and "ill 
never make old bones, which the doctor told me 
only last Tuesday was a fortnight, it breaks my 
heart, it do, indeed, to part "ith the little 
darling. Oh, sir, let the child bide with us, and 
don't take her awa
T. " . 
Griffin Blunt ".as too well bred to bite his 
nails-besides, he had not talen off his gloves; 
but he bit his lips, and contracted his brows, and 
paced the room more nervously than ever. 
"You're a stupid old ".oman," he muttered, 
pettishly. 
" I know I am," acquiesced Nurse Pigott, with 
a fresh succession of sobs, " and so's my 'usband, 
that is in bein' fond of the little cherub, and 
glad would he be for us to keep it, though only 
a journe
man plasterer, alid times is hard as 
hard can be." 
"She is tr) iug it on for more moner, the 
old hmocrite!" 1\1r. Blunt said, internallr. " I 
told yon," he continued aloud, turning to Nurse 
Pigott, "that it was absolutely necessary for me 
to remove the little girl. I am about to take 



ALL THE YI:AR nOC
D. 


Charles [ 


.] 


[1 ilru.. _. 1.. I] 27 


:.er to a p:.oo whe... ß" ill be n 
a. l' :u- 
cat l. 
.- "hl. au't old enou"h t b
 ('duca 1," 
D1 .m...ù 
 urse pi.!:')tt. ., ß.. lÙ( , m
 'u
b 
d 
r... LÙ" bLdutiful, anù ther!.:' a I , va) SC1looi r{ unù 
the corner at tv. opcnce a \\ L, nù let .altm 
tPaching, there's nobody but me 1..n(..,.3 h K 
much bn,..J.'U1ù-buttcr she ".Lnt
." 
'" Pray let me ha\e no more ä tbis l..unful 
di<;cu
...i')n:' the daud), \\ ith c.ùrn diguii,', iu t 
r- 
po ..d. .." hcn I made an ..Pl-OiuLlùcnt \\ith 

 ou to ll1 et me herc, ) ou undt. )tooù the pU1"l>o..e 
I for" hi,,1 1 )OU v. rc to bring the child. You 
h'lt"C be ,! p..iù for hcl' mainten..nf'e, aud I must 
tell 
ou, that 1Í )ou ha\e an) \iens of gaining 
m II c money by hcr, thçy \\ ill be ùisappointed. 
.. 
lone)!" exclaimcd 
urse Pigott, half 
choking, anù b) this time as much "ith indigna- 
tion as \\ ith grief. " )Ioney ! I scorns it. It 
isn't money I want, nor my 'usband neither. If 
the dear child had been put out to us by t be 
palisb, we'd ha' done our dooty by it. If its 
fathers and mothers were lords and hdics anù 
hemperor.;, we'd ha' done the same. It isn't for 
the mone) , though little enough, goodness knows, 
and not paid reguhr, ,vbich 
ou lnow, sir, not 
being disrespectable to you. And if rou'd leave 
the darling" ith us, and mone) was a little short, 
I'm sure we'd wait for better times, and never 
troublc )ou for one brass farthin_, if )ou'd owy 
let us 'ave our little little Lil)." 
urse Pigott 
su bsided aft er this into mere incoherence of grief. 

Ir. Blunt winced '" hen reminded tbat he had 
I not been too punctual a paymaster. He could 
see, however, that the remarl was totally devoid 
of malice. He could not help acknowlcdging 
that the child, whom he had seen, perbaps, six 
times ùuring three ) cars, had been reareù with 
intinite love and tenderness b J X urse Pigott, 
all vulgar and dumpy as she was. And some- 
thing like a fceling- of shame made his mind 
blush at the remembrance that this love and 
tenderness had been be:.to'Wcd upon Lily b) 
5trau
ers. 
"There, there, K urse Pigott," he said, as 
soothingly as he could, "I'm sure )-ou've done 
your bcst with the little thing, '\nd her papa 
and her mamma (who is too ill, poor thing, 
to come and sce her) are \"cry much obliged to 
you. Only, you know, the best of friends must 
part. I told )"OU that, 
ver so long ago. Come, 
don't let us ha\e any more fuss-}oU can't tell 
how it injures my nerves-and lJss t he child and 
all that sort of thing, for I'm rather pressed for 
time ." 
X urse Pigott had her nerves too, and for 
da)"s she had been attcmpting to nerve herself 
to undergo with fortitude a separation, which 
Blunt, to do him justice, had warned her was 
inent1.ble. For you see that to part with a 
domestic pet round which the cords of ) our 
heart hat'c twined themselves, is very \ery hard. 
.\.nd X urse Pigott had known Lily long before 
she could speak or "alk. 
he had sat b) her 
night after night in tho
e sicknesses '\\ hen the 


h e f a L cl .ld i II (. il) bl n out as a 
ru hI "ht. 
 lad re. iced in her growing 

th and bumty. .for" hat lioht <-D.d lnow- 
le.1 . t I .C \1; already n Lil
 's mind, X urse 
l'i ...tt, ,\ Ith rough howely liudl) ha.1ds, had 
()t L d tl Ùl)('l". She h..Ld talioht the little 
lUor
cl of Clm.. .anit
 to prattle SL...le pl_)erS, to 
Ii p 6 me kef-notes of rC\erCllCC and fear, and 
to lool u1l at the 
Ly, and talk of what bucame of 
O'o..>d anli llal'O'hty people. Lily us..:d to call her 
"mumma," a.d tbe male Pigott (pla..terer by 
trade, honest and iinù-hcarteù fellow by nature) 
she acc')sted as "dada." Yes j the dÏ\orce W3S 
hard, albeit the }ounglin
 \\ as none of their own. 
They had 110 girls; but Lil
 had pos.,essed as a 
foster-brot her the sur\ i\ ing twin, a trauquillittle 
boy, "it h \\ isdom far be) ond his years, who 
passed the major part of bis time in spra\\ ling 
on t he ground (probably out of door
), in earnest 
contcmplation of the curious featurcs of that 
extcrnal world ",hich the doctor forb:tde his 
parents to cntertain a hcpe of his long li\ ing to in- 
vestigate. Lil) 's nurture undcr the auspices of 
1\ urse Pigott had been the re\ erse of refined, but 
it had ne\ er lackcd affcctioll'lte and seùulous care. 
The good woman absolutely doted on her charge, 
although five shillings a week was all the remu- 
neration she rcceivcd for tendiug her. \\ ork 
was sometimes slack with the phstcrer, and he, 
bis \\ ife and the twin ('\\ hose profoundly philoso- 
phical temperament led him to regard potato- 
peelings as an alimcnt equal in succulence to 
bread-and-buttcr, or even to meat), had occasion- 
ally to go on short commons; but Lily Wag 
nc\-er bereft of a meal abundant in qU'lntity and I, 
nourishing in quality. She had ne\ er 1..n wn 
what it was to go without pudding. A slight 
meat eater she \\ as, as bcsoomed her age; ) ct 
what morsels of flcsh sbe required "ere ncver 
,vanting, even if they bad to be purchased from 
the proc eds aceruing from the deposit in trib,ùa- 
tion of the plasterer's great sil,-er watch. The 
male Pigott's affection for hcr was prodigi\"us. In 
her earliest )"outh he could ,\ ith dillieulty be 
deterreù from offering her sups of beer from his 
evening pint; and when told that the fermented 
infusion of malt and hops was improper rcfresh- 
ment for a cbild, he, of his own motion, absolutely 
forewent a nightly moicty of his beer money in 
order to purchase apples and giugerbrc"\d fOl" his 
fostcr-bab}-. The price of half a pint of porler 
was not a very sumptuous bount}; but a penny 
goes a very long way in a poor man's household. 
Lil) 's stock of clothes had never been very ex- 
tensive nor very abundant; but X urse Pigott had 
kept the little wardrobe "ith admimble and scru- 
pulous neatness. Only once during the three) ears 
and a half had she ever importuned :\Ir. Blunt 
(with \\ horn she "tras instructed to correspond 
through the mcdium of a London post-office. and 
the initials F. 13.), for money. That was after a 
journey to Kensington undertaken by the nurse, 
when in the window of a certain haber
her'a 
in the High-strl.ct. sbe had seen a robe of mouse- 
coloured mcrino, so curiously embroidered with II 



28 [February 20,1864.) 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


silken braid that she lmd tllere and then deter- / any more questions. Infants are put out to 
mined to secure it for Lily either by the legitimate nurse e\-ery rear, and by the thousand, in amI 
means of asking Mr. Blunt for the money, or about London, without references more searching 
by selling or pawning her own goods and chattels, than a money-payment in advance. Yery often 
or by bursting bodily into the shop and making off no name at all is asked for or furnished. I 
with the much-coveted robe. Fortunately, how- wonder whether such a system encourages im- 
ever, measures so desperate had not to be resorted morality. I should like to hear, on this subject, 
to. :Mr. Blunt happened to be in funds and in a those blessed Sisters of La Saintc Enfance, 
good humour, when he received a p
hetic and "the Holy Childhood" at Hong-Kong, who buy 
ill-spelt letter directed to F. B.; and the sum babies from the Chinese mothers to save the 
demanded, which was but two guineas, was little innocents from being cast into the sea, or 
forwarded. But chiefly had 
Irs. Pigott found thrown (as they are in the interior of China) to 
favour in the finc gentlem:m's eyes from the the pigs. 
exquisite cleanliness and neatness in which she The little Lily Smith throve apace, and had 
had always kept Lily. The philosophical twin not more thall an average share of infantile 
objected on principle to soap, and his father ailments. :Monsieur Soumois came at first once 
deprecated his being subjected to much lavatory a month to see Baby, and greatly impressed 
discipline, on the ground that he (the twin) Nurse Pigott with the amenity of his manners 
wOlild be washed away if he were washed often; and the affability of his conversation. By-and- 
but there was always warm water for Lilyand by he was succeeded by Mr. Blunt, who never 
.Windsor soap for Lily; nay, on one occasion kissed the child, or fondled it, or took much more 
good Nurse Pigott had purchased a bar of notice of it, in a languid survey through the 
Castile soap, the which, from its curiously marbled medium of his eye-glass, than if Lily had been 
appearance, the child imagined to be sweetstuff, a waxen doll in a toy-shop. Thus did the little 
and essayed to suck. .Winter and summer she girl remain until she was 11early four years of 
never went without her bath, and although her age; and it was a day of bitter sorrow for Nurse 
poor little garments had frequently to be pieced Pigott and the plasterer, when a curt letter ar- 
and darned, she was always shining as the newest rived from 
Ir. Blunt-or F. B., as he continued 
I of pins. to sign himself-directing the child to be made 
I A very few words will suffice to explain how ready and brought to the present place of ren- 
i Lily came into Nurse Pigott's custody. Three dezvous. So Lily, poor little shorn lamb, after 
years and a half before the commencement of having the wind tempered to her, was suddenly 
this history, the plasterer became cognisant of to be given up to the grim gaunt wolf. 
an advertisement in the day before yesterday's I retract-gaunt if you please, but not grim ;. 
.Morning Advertiser (it was before the days of for while I have been telling the story of Lily's 
penny joumalism), wmch he was in the habit of babyhood, 3\lr. Blunt's countenance has been 
borrowing from the hostelry where he purchased robed in his most dulcet smile, and he has 
his modest allowance of beer. This advertisement been exhausting his seductive arsenal to soothe 
set forth that a lady and gentleman were de- and conciliate the sobbing child. He has done 
sirous of placing an infant at nurse with some everything but kiss her. One loses the taste for 
respectable person in the immediate vicinity of innocent kisses as one loses the taste for bread- 
London. The Pigotts then occupied a diminutive and-jam. 
cottage at Brentford. Forthwith the
T answered The nurse was consoled and the child quieted 
the advertisement, in an epistle which the at last; and after an infinity of hugging, the 
plasterer considered to be a chef-d'æuvre of plasterer's wife announced that she 'Was ready 
caligraphy and composition, and which was, to go, and that she was sorry for having kept 
indeed, a marvel of archaic orthography and the gentleman so long. Between the spasms 
abnormal pothooks and hangers. In due time an of her parting embrace she told Lily that she 
ans'Wer arrived, and an appointment was made to should see her again very soon. 
meet the advertiser in London. Thither went " And I may, mayn't I, sir?" she continued, 
Nurse Pigott, arrayed in her Sunday best; and, turning with an appealing look to the dandy. 
at a specified hotel in Dover-street, Piccadilly, "Oh say that I may, if it's only once a year, I 
, she was received-not by :Mr. Blunt, but by shall break. my 'art, I know I shall, if I don't see 
, 1 / ' Monsieur Sournois, from Switzerland, his valet, my darling again," 
'Who made all the necessary arrangements for the "Of course, of course!" replied Blunt, who 
reception of an infant six months old, and paid a would have promised anything to secure a good 
I month in advance of the sum stipulated for. delivrrance. "The child shall write to you"- 
Being- asked 'Whether the child was christened poor little Lily, who didn't know great A from a 
(for Nurse Pigott was a staunch Church of bull's foot: "that is, I'll write, yes, 
'es. Now, 
England woman), he replied that it did not my good Nurse Pigott, we really must be going, 
'I matter. Being pressed on this point, he said you Jmow." 
it was all right, and that the child's name So two heavy hearts and one very callous heart 
"':ts Lily Smith, And as Lily Smith she went out of the little tavem parlour and into the 
was received by Nurse Pigott, The good road: the landlady and h
 inquisitive daug-htet' 
I woman did not feel herself called upon to ask craning their necks after all the hearts. There 
II 



 
I 
I' 



ChahU .c_ena.] 


[Februar -.] -1.] 
V 


ALL THE YE.Alt llOl:XD. 


"as no luz
age to carry. Lil} '" e1}'eets \\ ould 
Bot ha, e tilled an ordinary carpet-hag; but 
IHunt had graehusl} informed )lrs. l>igott tbat 
!Sbe might kcep tbe child's c/othr D a
 new cloth{ 
 
would bL pl"Ovided for bel' at the placp "hither 
she \\ as bound. Where that plaep might be, t hc 
I good \\ oman did not venture to a.ok. 
I I At the cUll of the l'me-not that b} which )11'. 
Blunt had approached, but its oPl)osite ext remit}" 
-a hackne,-coach "as waitin
. It "as non 
, : I ncarh dark: Ey F. R'g direction 1\ urse l>igott 
lifted' Lily into tbc \ehicle, which had alres.dy, 
as shc could obscurely disccrn, one occupant, 
and that a man. The child was by this timc 
II wboUy tired, and lmlf asleep. The dandy COll- 
desccndingly ga\e 
ursc Pigott a couple of 
lingcrs, dextcrousl}- hustlcd her on onc side, and 
in' another minutc she found herself CQ ing in 
the middle of the road, quitc alonc. 
But not so lonely as poor little Lil}-, albcit 
she "as in a carriage with two men, one of 
whom told her that hc was her pal)a. 


UI..HTER IY. THE MIS.5 Dt"
XYCASTLES' 
I.ST.illLISn
E
T. 
L \.RL Y to bed and earlv to risc was the 
time-honoured maÃÌm in the establislnnent of 
the )Iiss Bunn}.castles, Rhododendron House, 
Rhododenùron priyatc road, Stocl" ell. Time- 
honoured indeed, and with justice it migbt be 
called, for it had becn acted upon for at ]east 
t\\enty } cars, during "hieh lengthened period 
thc BUm1} castle family had lept a ladies' school 
in Uhododendron.road, as aforesaid. Stay; Ilia, e 
fallen into a slight error. Whcn )Irs. Bunny- 
castle first undertook, in the second decadc of 
the nineteenth century, thosc schola
tic duties 
at Stock" ell which her daughters subsequentl}" 
and ellicientl) performed, Rhododcndron pri, ate 
road ð.istcd only in the form of a narrow path 
bet \\ een t" 0 marlet gardens, and" cnt, I fcar, 
b} the painfully unacademic name of Cut-throat- 
lane. Uut" hen cuJturc came to Clapham, and 
ci,-ili:oation to Stockwell, the b}-.path became a 
"p1i,-ate road," neatly grayelled, and bordered 
by trim vilIac::. 'The old market gardener's 
habitation indeed remained, but was rechristened 
Rhododcndron Housc. }
ormerh- it had been 
lnO\\ll as Bubb's .Foll}-. Dubb'" as the last 
marlet gardener, and inherited the housc: a 
rambling one-storied structure of red brick: 
from his grandfather. Long and careful attcn- 
tion to horticulture brought him 1Ïehe
, and in his 
old agc it "as bruiteù about that he had become 
somc" hat mad, thougbnot so mad as to recluire any 
restraint, or bc in any" a} inc.lpablc of manJ.gÎllg 
his 0" 11 affairs; for he "as to the da}- of his death 
as a\ aricious an old scre\\, and as leen a hand 
at a bargain, as could bc found bet" ecn Ber- 
ll10ndsey and l
rb..ton. His madncs... did not go 
further than tbat harI
lc s ececntricity to \\ hieh 
II h) siologists ma}" ba,.e ob .:1"\ 
d that enriched 
tailors, hatters, and mar1.lt gardeners, are 
frequentl}" subject. In pursuance of this craze, 


Bubb turned all his nephcws al d n. 
 out of I 
door
, contracted a morganatic allianc-, \\ ith a 
bold-faced housekeeper "itb an abusive tQn
e 
and an uncontrollable taste for silk. drcss<..,3 and 
ardcnt spirits, and-he "ho had ..at for so many 
ycars under the He, erend 
Ir, Bradbod) of::;t 'f'k- 
"ell, and had e, en been a deacon to that shining 
cong'fprrational light - plun!!ed headlong into 
secularism, attended infidcllectures, and ccased 
to belicve in an} thing. Hc took to drinJ..ing 
also. In a "oro, 
Ir. Bubb 
as in his latter 
da} s that by no means uncommon character, a 
"" ickcd old man j" a quarrelsome old curmud- 
geon, \\ ho swore hard, dranJ... hard, amI didn't 
"ash. As :\ climax to bis strange proceedings, he 
added a tower, or belvedere, to his grandfather's 
old brick housc. At the summit of this edifice, 
which resembled externally a Cbinese pagoda 
brick faced, and with a dash of the truncated 
factory chimney about it, hc built a smoling- 
room, "here he s\\ ore and dranl and took tobacco, 
till his time came, and he died. The pagod..- 
chimncy beh"ederc had caused tbe house to be 
called Bubb's Folly; and 101l
 aftcr Dubb's de- 
cease, ancicnt people persisted in appl} ing the 
old title to H.hododcndron House. 
H thc'belnderc, howe\er, were Bubb's Iollr, 
the surrounding ground, which he directed ill bis 
will to be carefully let out in building lot<;, mi
ht, 
witbequal propriety, hat'c been designated Bubb's 
Common Seuse. The morganatic housclee1-er, 
to the rag-c and despair of the ncphews and 
nieces. came into all the propert}, and e\ en tbe 
Hi
h Court of Chancery could not pick a hole 
in the crazy oM marl.et gardener's last will and 
testament" The enriched bousekeepcr remm ed 
to g-rander quarters at Clapham, and the old 
brick Folly passed through many.' icissitudcc::, 
while houses in the most modern stde of do- 
mestic architecture sprang up 011 either side. 
Bubb, ho\\ e,.er, had" illed that his Folly" as not 
to bc demolished, and, being advertised, at last, 
as U eligible i5chool premises," with U an obsen a- 
tory admirably suited for scientific purpos, 
 " 
it was taJ..cn about the} car eighteen hundred ..nd 
sixteen by )Irs. nunn}castle, and turned into an 
establishment for} oung ladies. 
.Mrs. Buun)"castIe's husband was a gentlen..an 
who bad taught writing, arithmetic, and the use 
of the globes, in surburban seminaries, for 11' ny 
} ears. He also gave instruction in the BclIes 
Lettres: that is to say, he would recite, "ith the 
sonorous emphasis of the late Jobn Kemblc, any 
number of pages from the" :Elegant E
tra"ts" 
and U Enfield's Spealer." To tbis declamation 
} oung ladies of a literal') turn (it \\as a blue-stoel- 
ing agc) listened \\ ith intense admiration. )Irs. 
Bunn) castle (néc Lappin) had been in her} outh 
a nursery-governess in a great family, and was 
of a soft sentimental dis!)osition. She \\ as a 
great educational theorist, and had so filled her 
head \\ith dogmas of tuitiou out of Je
Ul Jacques I 
Uousseau, )Iadame Lep1Ínce de Beaumont, anù 
31esdames Chapone, Trimmer, and H
mD'\h 
rore 
-to say notLiug of Dr. Ldówortll, and the 



30 [February 20, 1864.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


Reverends 
Ie"srs. Gisbome and Chirol, and Dr. I best man. Come, my beloycd, and I will lead 
Fordyce's" Discourse on the Character and Con- thee to the h
 meneal altar," I am inclined to 
duct of the Female Se"'\."-that her educational think that Barbara Bunn
.castIe would in- 
systcm ended in her permitting' her pupils to do cOlitinelitly ha'"e cast her arms about that eligible 
pretty ""ell as thcy liked. She was much J oung man's neck, and cried out "Take me, 
belond by them, in consequence. Hcr fayourite intere
ting stranger!" 
work, after "Emile," was" Adelaide alid Theodore, In lS3G, 
Irs. Bunnycastle '" as a ,ery old 
or Lettcrs upon Education:" that dreary simper- smiling lady, ,\ith glossy-white l"Í11glets. Her 
ing old farrago of ,ycll-meaning inanities, in countenance" as wrinlled, but it was rosy still. 
which the baroness writes to l\Iadame d'Ostalis She '" as still soft and sentimental, and much 
to tell her how Seraphine bas bitten her little addicted to the perusal of novels: standing, as 
brother, but how she has succeeded in "produc- regards these cktracteristics in strong contradis- 
ing perfection" in her daughter Adelaide, "ho is tinction to her eldest daughter, Adelaide, '\\"ho 
"fourteen rears old, an excellent musician, ,\ as an exceedinglJ' practical spinster, and the 
drawing with am1.zing proficiency, speaking and inflexible disciplinarian of the establishment. 
I singing Italian like a native, and absolutely I have said that "early to bed, and early to 
, I cured of all little female deficiencies." Happy rise," was the golden rule abided by at Rhodo. 
Adelaide, and thrice hapIJY baroness! dendron House. The) ounger pupils retired to 
The worthy Bunnycastle died a year before rest at half-past seven. Those of medium age, 
: I Rhododendron House was taken. His widow was that is, under twelve, went to roost at eight. 
I faithful to his memorr, and brought up her three B)'nine, the elder girls reached their dormitories. 
daughters, Adelaide (so christened after the ba- At ten, the governesses and parlour-boarders bade 
roness's paragon), Celia, and Barbara, in love and Mrs. Bunn)"castle good night. At half-past ten, 
reverence of their inoffensive papa's portrait, the three daughters of that estimable and Yene- 
with its shirt frill, and its hair powder (the latter rable person kissed, eacb, bel' parcnt OIl the fore- 
il beautifully IJainted), and "ith the silver standish head; and by elm"en o'clock every light in Rhodo_ 
"presented to hinl br the 
 oung ladies of dendron House "as extinguished. All the girls 
Ostrolenko Lodge, Camberwell, ill slight testi- and their teachers" ere up by six o'clock in the 
mony of his unwearied exertions in teaching morning; the three sisters only indulged in half- 
them plain and ornamental writing, arithmetic an-hour's e:x.tra somnolence; and, lJUllctuall
- at 
(on Mr. ,Yalkingame's principle), the use of the eight o'clock, ::\lrs, Bunn
-castle, in hel' unvar
'- 
I I globes, and other polite accomplishments, for iug cap '\\"ith 
"eUow satin bo"s, and her white 
' manr years." In this histor)"s year 1836 the three ringlets arranged in faultless S) mmetQ', made her 
, I :Miss Bunnycastlcs were aU old maids, 1'here is no appearance at the common breakfast-table. 
use in disguising the matter; it ,yas palpable. All their meals, with one exception, pupils and 
.With Adelaide and with Celia the case was hope- preceptresses took together. Breakfast, dinner, 
less. They were both past thirt)-, and had made and tea, ","ere served in the great bow-windo'\\"ed 
up their minds to celibacy. About Barbara, only, dining-room gi,"ing on to the lawn; but supper 
who was barely t""enty-nve, could an
T faint and was a special and exclusive meal which Done of 
feeble matrimonial hOIJeS be entertained. '''hen the children partook of at all, which the parlour- 
such hopes were hinted in her presence by the boarders and teachers consumed in a kind of 
charitable-minded among her own sex - the still- room adjoining the pantry, but which 
married ladies, bien entendu-Barbara shrugged Mrs. Bunnycastle and her daughters enjo)'ed in 
her prett)' shoulders-she v:as prett)--and some- their own little parlour. The meal was serwd 
times smiled, and sometimes sighed. :MeanwhiJe (tea. having been got through at five) at nine 
she went on watching the pimlOforte practice, and P.M, The mother and daughters loved to linger 
the small-tooth combing (after sundry soap and oyer their meal, and, although tbey ate and 
' 
!: I towel preliminaries) ofthe little ones on Saturday drank but little, it was often prolonged to clo
e 
nights. That was her department in the economy upon the time for retiring to rest. It ,,-as the 
of Rhododendron House. She did not murmur. onlJ' season throughout the weary monotonou
 
She was peIfect1
- resigned. Only, if any eligible day when they ",-erc alone, m1d at their ease. 
young 11lan had smldelùyappeared before her, say They ,,-cre free from the constraint of keeping- 
from the Planet .Mars, or from the bowels of the on their countenance that expression of simulated 
earth, and had said, "It is true that I am a re- gravit
-, 110t to say severity, '\\"hich all tho
e 
turned convict, a professed forger and coiner, and ,,-hose vocation it is to educate youth, whether 
a monster in human form-that I have a blighted male or female, think it their bounden duty to 
heart and a seared conscience-that I murdered as:::.Ulue while occup
 ing the rostrum of pedagogic 
my great-aunt, and sold m)- country, and picked authority. This is ",h
 schoolmasters and school- 
a gentleman's pocket of a )'ellow bandanna at mistresses get prematurely worn, wrinkled, and 
Camberwell Fair; but still my intentions are shrunken. 
strictly honourable. I have a marriage license Supper-time, then, was an hour of unmin!5led 
in m
 right-hand trousers-pocket, and a rill
 delectation for the Bunn
 castle family. Then, 
and a pair of ,,-hite kid glons in ID)-left. There they" ere free from the heated and half-sÜfling 
is a glass-coach at the door, the pew-opener ,yill atmosphere of the schoolrooms; for \ elltilatio11, 
officiate .lS bridesmaiù, and the beadle will be my a:s an adjunct to education, had not been thought 


'I 
I 


I 
il 



, --='" __ok..,] 


ALL TIIF YEAR ROr
D. 


[I- ry 
ç, .J 


1 


of in 1836. Then, they" ere quit l)f the LnwlinlZ' 
exaspernting swarm of 
OUD'" v., tlu scare. l
 
le
s tiresome clder girle" ßLd the exachnll 
parlour-boarde
, who, becau. 
 !leir parents paid 
fftv guineas per annwn for tbelr mamtenance at 
Rh
dodendron Hou e derm
d it a prime article 
in their creed to bold, in serret, if not openly, 
Mrs. and the Miss Bunnycastles as thl- dust be- 
neath their feet. At supper-time, the school- 
mistress and her daughters "erc relieved from 
thc presencc of these superb ones of the earth 
in short skirts and frilled trousers. At supper- 
time thev werc rid, too, of the teachers: amiable 
and 
orthy young persons nll of them, 110 doubt, 
but wearisome on daily and unremitting acquaint- 
ance. At supper-time, they could chat "ithout 
Jet or hindrance. Thry could run over the occur- 
rences of the day. They could dwell, now" ith 
satisfaction, now with discontent, upon how 
much their young charges paid, and how much 
thcy ate. 'They could concoct lettCls of t}lanls 
to complimentary parents, or of deprecatIon to 
remonstrant ones. They could revoh e plans of 
scholastic aggrandiscment, discuss points of dis- 
cipline, compare methods of instruction, grumble 
at their lot in that lu
ousncss of complaint 
which is well-ni
h alJn to content, and gossip 
about their neighbours. Thus, supper in the little 
back parlour at Rhododendron House, combined 
thc gra\"itr of a cabinet council with thc hilarity 
of a s
 mpnsium. 


I
DIAN RAIL.W AYS. 


SUPPOSI
G that for thc future wc havc no 
more mutinies and rcbelliolls in India, the pro- 
gress of railway enterprise promises to provide 
a complete system of railway communication in 
+h
t country. Tbe days of paJan1.een tra\"el- 
lulg have come to an end. The days of the 
dâk are numbercd. The iron horse 011 nearly 
all main roads now supplies the placc of the 
coole\", the bullock, and the wretched posting- 
pony 
 1\ ot only are thc principal lines being 
carricd through to distant destinations, but cross- 
lines, lightly constructed on the \merican plan, 
are being rapidly run up, or, more cOl"r
ctly speak- 
inl?, run do" n, to connect them ODe With another, 
and act as fccders to the gre3t sources of traffic. 
At the present time, the principal communica- 
tions are in the hands of three 
reat companies 
-the Ea
t Indian, the Great Indi,m Peninsular, 
Bnd the Madras. The course of the first- 
"hich starts from Calcutta, and runs, "ith very 
little interruption, to Delhi, whence it is maling 
a bold push for the Punjab, to join a line of 
which part is in operation in that prO\ ince- 
has been already sketched in a former articlc.- 
In a short time, howe\er, the majority of tra- 
vellers from Lng-land will find it more conve- 
nient to proceed to the north-west and central 
provinces viâ Bombay, whence the Great Indian 
Peninsular is alrcadv open for a considerable 


· See r:tge 56-1 of tbe last '\"olume. 


distance towards JubbuIrorr wb rl'" L IS to j I 
a branch of the r"5t 1L ; III froll AJl " bad. 
Another line oC the Grent Indian Penir ..1 r 
is onc in a 50uth-ea<;tern directi(,D, from BOI IL Y 
to 
Iadra5. This is open as far as Shol.1} '"Irr 
Here it will break into b 0 branches, one g,>in q 
to H
 derabad (llyderab..d in tbe Del...b Ill, ana 
not to he conCounded \\ith H)der. bad in S( indc), 
and th_ other to Bellary, "bere it "ill mett the 
line from Madras. Thc line to Hyderabad is to 
be continued in a direction due sontb, joininP I 
the main line at Cuddapore. But this is nt t a1 
th
4- railway enterprise is doinq for Bombay. 
Thc Great lndian reninsular has also a line in a 
direction due north, bet" een Bombay, Baroda, 
and \hmedabad. This iq alread\" open for the 
greater part of the distance, n slÍght !!ap ,\hieh 
remains being at the Bombay end, \\ tere some 
unusual engineering difficulties premil. From 
the JubbuJpore line, also, there is a branch to 
1\a
pore, the seat of government oC the Central 
Provinces, and this is already partly completerJ. 
Some of thc works on thc Great Indian Pe- 
ninsular line arc of considerable importance and 
magnitude. Among these, the most remarL.ablc 
is the passagc through the celcbrated Bhore 
Ghaut, between Bombay and Poonah, on the line 
to Jubbulpore, In a distance of fifteen miles, 
the rail\\av climbs an 3sccnt of one thou
'lnd 
eight hundred and thirty-one feet, the difficulties 
in its cour.-e being overcome by such a series of 
cuttings, tunnels, viaducts, and embankments, 
as are not to be found within the samc space, 
wc arl- assured by the official report, in an 
other quarter of tbe world. 'l'he earthwork alon. 
necev..)ary to effect these objects, amounts to 
four and a half millions oC cubic miles. Several 
of the cmbankmcnts exceed sidy feet in heifPht, 
and there is a cutting of one hundred and filty 
feet through solid rock. One of the, iaJuets IS 
one hundred and forty-three fcct from the sur- 
face. Some idea of the gencral nature of the 
works may be formed Crom the fact, that their 
constructÍon occupied seven veal'S and a quarter, 
about fOllr years being spènt in prelIminary 
operations. The Bhore Ghaut, it appears, wa'l 
first made practicablc for the passage of artillerv 
by the Duke of 'rellin
ton, wben in command 
of the forces in the Dekban, who, with instinc- 
tive foresight, saw the importance of imprond 
communication with Bombav; and about thirtv 
three - years ago Sir J ohñ Malcolm opened 
the GIJ,ut for cart traffic. But it may be 
doubted if cithcr of th"tse two 
reat mr"} ever 
dreamed of the toilsome and difficult path 
through which it WR3 just possible to drag hrr.... 
guns, or transport stores in rude native vebicle 
dm" n by oxen, being' superseded by a royal 
road in the shape of a' rail" aYe W 
A linc called the Grt.\t Southern of II J:a 
Raih\ay, is also open fro 11 the sea-coast sl..uth 
of Yadras, at Cauvery, to Trillchinopoly (famous 
Cor cheroob), which will be joined by another 
line, exfending from a point almo t at the ex- 
treme south of the Pelllnsular, to ::;,lem. on the 

radras and IkYp'ore line. These nil brlonl? to 
the 
IadL.s Railway C\Jrnp3ny. The 3Iadl"" 



3:! [February 20, 1n1.) 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conduct! ')y 


and Beypore line (Bcypore bcing on the ".estern machinc attached to the cngine in front, which 
coast) has suggested a short route for themails.being called a" cow-catcher," is not iutended to 
which has many arguments in its favour. catch cows, but simply to clear those animals 
The magnitude as well as the difficulty of the out of the way. It is a decided "caution" to 
operations of ,,-hich the above is a more or less the intruder, who finds himself on a sudden 
complete statement, may be estimated from the tripped up and insinuated on one side, with I 
fact that up to the period of the last official liberty to resume his equilibrium and journey I 
report, embracing only a part of last year, no when the monster ,,-hose path he has ventured 
less than 2,597,9 n tons of material neces- to cross has gone rushing and roaring' on its I 
sary for construction, amounting in \alue to way. The arrangement .must be slightly be- 
13,843,392[., ha,-e been sent out from this wilderiug to the cow, but it is certainly condu- 
country to India, in 3292 ships, for the purposes cive to the public safety. 
of the railways. That these enterprises are con- The gcneral working of the lines may be thus 
sidered a good speculation lllay be gathered detailed: The net receipts from all the open 
from the fact that, on the 31st of December, lincs far the year ending 30th of June, 1862, 
lS{)2, the number of proprietors and debenture wcre about -13:1:,000l., against 311,367l, of the 
holders in the different lines was 31,420, having previous year. 
increased by 5260 in the course of the year. The number of passengers conveyed in the 
The numbers, in fact, increa
e ill about the same same period were 6,484,338 and 4,912,955 rc- 
ratio as the capital. In reference to this part spectively. 
of the subject, it ::.hould be explained to the Thtj traffic, it is believed, has, upon the whole, 
reader who happens to know nothing about it, been conducted with regularity and safety. Ac- 
that five per cent is guaranteed to the com- cidents have of course happened, hut the official 
panies by the government, to assist and give report is not aware that any havc proved f3tal to 
security to their operations. The financial posi- passengers. The native temperament is favour- 
tion as detailed in the report of 1563 was this: able to regularity and punctuality, and the casual- 
In the course of the preceding financial year ties have becn confined to the cows already 
there had been an expenditure of 5,810,852l.; alluded to, and a few nati,'es who ha,'e beeil 
that in England having' been 1,854,211l., and equally incautious. Fire has in many instances 
that in India 3,956,563l. The amount raised destroyed goods while in transit. This is in con
e- 
by the companies, in addition to the sum of quencc of the use of wood instead of coal in many 
2,515,406l., which stood to their credit on the places-coal being a scarce article in India. But 
1st of May, 1862, "\Vas 5,238,5671., so that on a hint taken from America, where the same ill- 
I the 1st of :May there was a balance of 1,9:1:3, 211 l., convenience is felt, resulting in the use of wire- 
I available for the current year's expenditure. guards and similar precautions, has mitigated 
: I This expenditure-for IS63-64-was estimated the evil. If ood of course will get into a blaze 
I at 20,112l. in England, and 4,189,000l. in India; and send up a great deal of burning matter while 
and it was anticipated that 5,293,0001, would be in motion, which may set fire to a whole train 
: ' I raised to meet it, in addition to the balance of unless proper protection be adopted. 
1,9:1:3,211l. The present changeable condition of the lines, 
I Among the novel appearances on the Indian we are tolù, makes it very difficult to draw any 
I lines which cannot fail to strike the passenger, sat.isfactory conclusions as to thcir real value. 
" may be noted the decidedly permanent setting .While some are partially finished and extending 
of the electric telegraph, which faithfully fol- in length every few months, ,,"hile others are 
lows their course, as in England. Originally, finished, but are without access to the stations, 
the wires" ere supported by the trunks of palm- and while it is uncertain "hat will be the cost 
trees, which gave a decidedly picturesque ap- of the permanent establishments, and" hat the 
pearance to the Bidglee Dâk (lightning mail), as expenses of maintenance, it is impossible to 
, it is christened by the natives, especially'" hen estimate,,, ith any degree of accuracy, their re- 
the said trunks would insist upon looking un- munerative powers. And in cOlllle
ion with the 
scientific, by sending forth their feathery foliage question of maintenance of ""ay, it lllay be men- 
at the summit. But the wind and the rain tionec1 that while coal is scarce for one purpose, 
played sad havoc with these supports, and the wood is also scarce for another. On several 
natives assisted nature by mounting them at lines the wood used for sleepers has rapiùly 
inconvenient seasons to deposit articles of more decayed, and it has been found expedient to use 
or less bulk, which they desired to have trans- iron for the purpose. That this material lasts 
mittcd by this expeditious conveyance! It has longer for the sleepers themselves is beyond a 
been found desirable, therefore, to replace them doubt; but the absence of elasticity lias an in- 
by solid columns of masonry, which are now to jurious effect upon the locomotives and rolling 
be seen in most places, and as masonry is not stock, which wear out in their stead. The 
I liable to be blown about, the wires are kept official report, however, does not admit the force 
properly extended, and above suspicion of being of this objection. The consulting engineers of 
II tampered with. One of the chief dangers in the the companies count upon a great saving in the 
transit of the trains is the intrusion of cattle cost of maintenance from the use of iron sleepers, 
I upon the rails; and in order to provide for it, "hich are now sent out from England in large 
the ingenious device of a "cow-catcher" has quantities, being adopted by the principal com- 
I been finch resorted to. This is a triangular I panics. The n ecessi ty for snbstitnling iron, it 



Cbn.rleø DlckeDL] 


ALL TIlE YEAR ItOUXD. 


is stated. may to some extent be attributed to 
the high price of wood in India, aJ well as to its 
tendency to decay. 
The amount paid to the set'eral companies for 
guaranteed interest up to the 31st December. 
1 
62, was 8,269,190/. This sum is subject to a 
deduction of about 1,GOO,OOO/.. which the go\ern- 
ment had received from the earnings of thc 
r:lilwa\s, Ica\Íng a debt of about 6,1)50,000/. 
against the companies. The annual amount 
which will be due from the gO\ernment for 
guaranteed intere!.t, \\ hen the lines are finished, 
may be talen at 3,000,000/. j but the profits 
per mile per \\ eek of the lines are now raoidly 
lllereasing. A considerable portion of the above 
snm will consequently be met by payments into 
the 
overmnent treasuries in India. The liability. 
of the State will thus dimini
h gradually until 
it ceases altogether, and the railwaJs are 
financially able to run alone. The amount of 
gross mileage receipts which should be earned 
by the companies to relieve the gO\"ernment 
from the payment of guaranteed interest, varies, 
of course, with the cost of construction, and of 
maintaining and working each mile; but taking' 
the a
gregate amount of capital to be expended 
upon 4600 milcs to be 60,000,000/., the gross 
rcceipts necessary to earn the guaranteed in- 
terest, supposing that fifty per cent is suffi- 
cient fur maintenance and workin
, would be 
G,OOO,OOO/. a year, or about 1300/. a mile a 
year, or 23/. a mile a "eek. In conncxion with 
this fact, it is sati!.factory to know that the gross 
receipts of the East Indian Railway. when the 
line is completed, should be about 361., and of 
tLe Great Indian Peninsular about 25/. per mile 
per "eek; and that they are both earning 
upwards of 22/" and are increasing their receipt!. 
e\ery month. 
That the railways will before long prot'e 
remnneratit'e themselves "ithout government 
aid, there is no reason to doubt j and it "ill be 
a great day for the companies, as well as for the 
gO\ ernment. "hen they shall be released from 
the 8upen is ion which authority naturally insists 
upnn, when it 
ndertakes responsibility. At 
present, the IndIan govermnent has a regular 
.. Rail" ny Department," aud its offices in the 
presidencies and the pro\"inces must necessarily 
conflict. at times unpleasantly, with those of 
the companies. The check is not only justifiable, 
but necessarv, It does not, however, conduce 
to perf
ct ha
mony, and t he sooner the companies 
have earned indcpendent contro], tbe better for 
themsehes,and e\ erybody else. 'l'he commcrcial, 
social, and political ad\'antages (pained to the 
countly by the establishment of tlw iron roads, 
arc becoming morc and more apparent. It is 
somcthing, 8S the In.st report says, to han 
already raised the condition of the íabourer by 
incrrasing his wages 60 or C\"Cll 
O per cent; 
aud it is somethinp- to have enabled upwards of 
6,000,000 of people to ha\ e trat'ellcd bv rail"av 
in h\ c1\ e months. who. ten years ag';, had nòt 
scen a locomotive engine. It is omething. 
also, to ha\ e earn cd nr:\rl... 2,000,0')0/. since the 
lines were opencd. In a "f("w month
, the grcat 


II 



I ebruary 20. 1 I J 


3 


cotton-fields of Central India and of Guzerat 
will be in direct communication with Bombay' 
and Delhi, at the present till\(', is f rohbly 
within two days' reach of Calcutta. n many 
districts between, where there has been hith rto 
110 communication at all, a sure and rapid mt'.,.,s 
of transit is fast being established; and in 
many places before unknown to the merchant 
will shortly be established markets where 
no interc1lange of commodities has yet Lken 
place. 
)[uch dread has alwavs been felt bv our c)un- 
trymen at home of the climate in J ndiå j and the 
loss of life in high places of late years has induced 
something like a panic among men who would 
otherwise desire to cast their fortunes in the East. 
The fear felt in this country is generally delu- 
sive; the mortality "hich has taken place being 
mainly caused by exceptional circumstances. The 
wear and tear of the mutinies killed manV mpn 
who mif;ht have battled with the climate for 
years. Lord Dalhousie, who, by the way, h
d 
not to face the political cri
is, died throu,.,h 
ailments quite independent of tbe influeuCf's to 
which he was subjected during his viceroyalty. 
Lord Cannin
. who bore the brunt, wore hm1!3elf 
out with \\ ork and anxiety, which would have 
killed a man of his nervous temperament in any 
climate in the world. Lord Elgin. wh05(" loss 
has so lateh. been lamented. died of heart dise'lse, 
brought tõ a fatal conclusion by climbin
 a 
mountain, which would have been an equal 
enemy ll'ld it been an Alp. There is searcøly 
any man h1.ving the command of five hundrpd 
a year in India, and who i not driven by duty 
into particular exposure, who cannot take R.3 
g'ood care of his life as a governor-general. 
Civil and military officers die continually in the 
country, whose deaths are not laid to the climate, 
and deaths in high places should not tell against 
it more than d
aths in low places. An assIstant 
magistrate or a lieutenant dies, and nobody 
thinks tbe worse of the climate; but, lr l a 

r
at man become, what in military ret'lms 
IS called a "casualty," and people on all s; ""s 
discO\'cr that India must be essentially un6t f "d 
for Europeans. Indian im alids will find .n 
the railuay system a safeguard such as th y 
never before enjoyed. The majority of maL::.:s 
in the East require, before e\ erything. to be 
taken ill time. Change of air is the great re- 
storati\"e in most cases; but a race for life to 
the hills or tbe sea was more than most in,alids 
could endure in the days of the road. :Many a 
man and woman han been killed by the wear and 
tear of the déÎ.k journey, who migfit have lit'ed a 
long life, had they been able to get quietly 
o 
the journey's end. By the railuay they h'l.Y 
travel from one climate to another in a f.:w 
hours, without trouble. with very little hli3"ue, 
and "ith the satisfaction of lnowing thaf the 
chances are greatly against the engine I. \"l._g 
a screw, refusing to mO\ e, jibbing. boltiug, bUCK- 
jumping. or O\'erturning the carriage, 
The effect of Indian railways upon commerce 
and material prosperity need scarcely bc p tinted 
out. Alrea dy they havc gi\en a wondcrful im- I 



I I 
31 
I 


[. 
bruÐ.rJ -vII" 4.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


pet us to the trade of the country in every direc- 
tion; anl in the article of cotton alone have 
been the means of \Vorl-iug' great good, by miti. 
g-ating the disastrous effeèts of the Lancashire 
tamine in that staple. Politically, thcy are of an 
importance which cannot be exaggerated. Its 
extent will be sufficiently indicated by a single 
paragraph from the speech of Sir Bartle Frere, the 
governor of Bombay, at the opening of the Bhore 
Ghaut incline. After alluding to certain advan- 
tages, so obvious as scarcely to require pointing' 
out, his e:1l.cellency added, "Some of us have 
served with the mcn of our old European regi- 
ments who marched with but one halt from Pan- 
\\ dltoPoonah, to fight the battle ofKirkee; and an 
of us can estimate the militaryand political advan- 
tages of a work which will connect all the capi- 
tals of India, and place the garrisons of Madras 
and Bombay as close to eacll other in point of 
time as those of Poonah and Bombay were within 
living memory. It is no exaggeration to say 
that the completion of our great lines of railway 
will quadruple the available military strcngth of 
India," 
How near we are to that object may be esti- 
mated from the latest official statement of pro- 
gress. From this it appears that out of 4679 
miles of railway the length open and in operation 
on the 1st of January, 1863, was 2527. In 
1863 it was expected that 62
 ,,"ould be com- 
; I pleted, as has probably been the case. During 
1 11 1864' 620 are due, which will leave a balance 
of 906 to be completed in 1865, and (say) the 
middle of the following year. These items com- 
pri3e the mileage of the lines already sanctioned. 
But it is not to be supposed that railway pro- 
i l I gress will stop here, or will stop at all so long 
as there is a plausible project for an enterprising 
engineer, and a speculative public for both. 
Even now railway travellers are in such force as 
to demand a <<Bradshaw," the first number of 
which recently appeared in Calcutta. It is of 
sufficiently respectable dimensions, but nothing 
to what it ",ill be ten years hence. That 
there should be a Bradshaw at all is a sufficient 
,I anomaly in 
 lazy, lotus-eating country like 
India-where nobody is in a hurry, except for 
i I pleasure; where "ork, when done is done for 
I I : I the worker's sake, as he would take a constitu- 
tional; and where the principal drawbacks to 
life are" the noi3e of the nightingales and the 
litter of the roses," 


THE GHOST OF :MR. SENIOR. 


,rH.A..T is a spectre? 
The dictionaries tell us that a spectre is "a 
frightfnl apparition, a ghost." Thc popular 
notion of a spectre is, a figure enveloped in a 
long white robe with outstretched skeleton 
right hand, gliding noiselessly through the ruins 
of some deserted castle. 
Spectres are the aristocracy of ghosts. If 
"Hodge," passing through the villa
e church- 
Tard late at night, happens to think he sees 
"something white" which frightens him out of 


[Conducted by 


what he calls his wits, he does not say he has 
seen a spectre, he speaks and thinks of what 
he saw as a ghost. 
I have a theory about spectres, and it is- 
but I can better explain it after I have related 
what I am about to tell, 
The facts to ".hich I allude occurred many 
ye

s since, before table-turning, spirit-rapping, 
SpIrIt hands, "et hoc genus omne," were 
invented. At that time, too, I did 110t take 
a nap after dinner, however attractive forty 
winks may now appear. I mention this lest 
my readers should say, "Oh, he dropped off 
asleep." 


I ""as born in a small country town in the 
west of England; the inhabitants were princi- 
pally shopkeepers and working people, and 
consequently I had but few companions beyond 
the circle of my own family. There was, how- 
ever, an old gentleman, a 
Ir. Senior, a kind- 
hearted, good-tempered old man, a ",idower 
".ithout children, who took a great fancy to 
me, and was never better pleased than" hen I 
was allowed to go and keep him company. 
He lived in a house of his own in the main 
street of the town; he was a cheery old gentle- 
man, and used to delight to tell me tàles of 
what he had seen in his youth. He had been a 
fur merchant, and had lived for several years at 
Hudson's Bay. And soon our acquaintance be- 
came intimacy, and, ere long, ripened into friend. 
ship, and few days passed without my paying a 
visIt, longer or shorter, as home engagements 
permitted. 
The room we used to sit in was the dining- 
rooll1. Since the death of his wife :Mr. Senior 
had seldom gone into the drawing-room. It 
revived painful feelings, he said; recollections 
of the departed one; for there still stood 
her piano, the tambour-frame, and her work- 
basket. 
So we always sat in the dining-room. It was 
a moderate sized apartment, ,vith nothing par- 
ticular in it except a large long" table, and two 
old-fashioned oak arm-chairs, which stood one 
at each end of the table, and there they always 
stood, whether in use or not. I used to sit in 
one of these chairs, Mr. Senior, as a matter of 
course, occupying the other. 
Years fled, seed time and harvest, summer and 
winter, succeeded each other; I grew up to 
man's estate, and began to think of having an 
establishment of my own. 
About that time myoid friend died, and his 
relatives, wishing to make as good an income 
as they could out of his property, proposed to let 
the house furnished, After some negotiation I 
became the tenant, and in due time took up my 
abode in the house. It ",as rather dull at first 
being alone, after having been used to the 
cheerfulness of a family circle, and more 
especially in that particular house, as reminis. 
cences of myoid friend were inevitable; but I 
had my profession to occupy me; it took me a 
good deal from llOme, and I soon became used 
to J.ny new mode of life. 


d 



CLarIes Dicken..] 


I: 
[F ",'" 
IJ 1"64.] 35 


ALL THE YI:AR nOI.;
D. 


Shorlly after I had settled down, I had 
oec
ion to leave home for a few da

, and on 
Dl) return, being unexpectedly delayed on the 
rl J, I did not arrive at my hou
 until rather 
latl; there '\\ ere se\ eral letters a'\\aitillg my 
re t urn, and as I had to be at a neigh houring to" 11 
brlv next day, and as some of the lctters 
re h.ted to mLLtters oC urgent importance, I 
determined to answer them that night. I 
ordered \\ hat we call in our pnrt of the country 
"a hi!;h tea," and, ha\ ing finished it, brought 
the blotting-booJ.., &c., to the table, and, sitting 
do\\ n in lilY old accustomed chair, went to 
'\\ rJ... 
I had \uitten two letters, and was about to 
commence a third, when, happening to raisc my 
e
 es, I saw "hat secmed to be myoId Cricnd 
Sittu !; in the chair at the other end of the table, 
ju
t as he had becn used to sit there in the old 
thle. I confess I was startlcd. I rubbed m\'" 
e
e i and looled more attenti\"cly, but there he 
sa , looling at me with the old benignant smile. 
As SlJon as I could collect my thoughts I got 
up, and feeling that there must be somc delusion, 
\\ en;: and stirred the fire, hoping to divert my 
m:nd from thc subject. On looking round, 
tJ my great relief I saw that the chair "as 
empty. 

o I sat down again and "ent on writing, 
but I could not help from time to time giving 
a hasty ghnee to\\ards the other end of the 
table. ::;uddcnly, there he sat again, as distinct 
-) if in bodil í presence. 
I had real that the spirits oC the departed 
clJuld IlOt rest in peace Ullder certain cir- 
cumstances, and not being in a Crame of 
mind to reason calmly, I thought that myoid 
friend had something to communicate, so I 
spo1..e: 
"_ Why do JOU comc herc :" 
);0 an::.\\cr. 
" Can I do, anything for 
 ou :" 
St ill ùead silence. 
"This won't do at all!" cried I, starting up 
anù going round the tablc. But, as I mm ed, 
111\ old friend's form faded awa.. 
wI felt unfit for more letter-w;iting that night, 
ar 1, shutting up the blotting-book, hastily re- 
treated to my bedroom. 


COll!;iùcr, now, what it is that we do, "hen 
we 8"". 
The e
'e is furnished inside, with a sensiti.e 
curtain, upon which are produced, or reflected, 
the pictures of such objects as lllay happen to 
be "ithiu the range of .ision; and those pic- 
tUrt:
 are, in a wondcrful maiUler, communicated 
to our intclligence, so that without touching a 
tiling at \\ hich "e look, \\ e know "hat the 
th
ng i!;. \s long as the object remains before 
tll eye, the picture of it remain
 on "hdt \\e 
I lu" e called the scnsitive curtain, aud sometiuks 
t he picture is retained lifter the object 
;) re- 
n.med. 1'or in
tance :-if 
c happen to 10úk 
,. t he sun \\ hen the fil!;t dazzling effect is o.er, 
tLerl' rL..,ains on the sL.!siti.. (' curta;n '\n im- 
prc

io1J, \\ hich cau
cs u
 to 6 e a roul'd d. .. of 


a darl.ish colour on an
 oLjr .. a
 whirh \\e may 
lool. After a "hort time the disc f , hut It 
comes back a'Pain, once, twice, lioIDltiu... thrt'e 
times, aceordll'
 to the strength of the fir 
illlprt sion, So, al"o, "ith lie:-urtJ in blael, 
white, or any brilliant colour; if \\e lool stt <id- 
fasth for half a minute or so at a hirrhh -ce loured 
figur{' upon which a strone:- light i tl
rown, and 
then turn the e\e to a whi1l wall or window- 
blind, \H. see a fiw gure of the ame shape 1.S that 
at which we ha\ e been gazing-tlJis abo" ill 
fade and return se\ erdl timcs. or c "If:.e thc 
figure is not on the \\ all; of 
our e t he effect 
is produced by an impression remaini'lf!' on t 1. 
e..e. 
., lXow, I do not propose to attempt tú r--')unt 
for mistaJ..es \\ hich people make t] rough fear, 
or any other cause; \\e J..now that the eJe is I 
liable to be deceived, anù that IC a fri...lll:ly hanù- 
post" has, ere now, been mista1..en for a 
ho t. I 
What I wish to deal with is the fact th..t im- 
prcssions arc sometimes revic à 0.1 l' 1(, c
 e, 
"ithout there being a corrcspondin
 oh; 'ct ac- 
t ually \\ ithin view, and although thc 01 jcct 
which originally caused the impre sion may not 
ha\'e been seen for weeks, for months, r.crhaps 
for years. This is more likely to occur If there 
be anything presented to thc cye suggesti\"e 
merely of anyone particular object at which 
\\ c ha\'"c been accustomed to look. 
1 contend, also, that imagination ha." orne- 
thing to do with the matter. If it b n admitt
d 
(and it can scarcely be denied) that a complete 
r.icture may be revived on the sensitive curtain, 
If anything merely suggf'stive of such picture is 
presented to the eye, then it \\ ill not be difficult 
to understand how I, beinB' in the room wherc I 
had been accustomed to Sit with myoid friend, 
occupying t he position I was so familiar \\ ith, 
and looking at the \"ery ch:l.Ír in" hich he always 
used to sit, had before me au object 8ufficiently I 
suggestive to reproduce on the sensiti\'e curtain I 
of my cye not only the chair, which I did see, I 
but also the fOlDl of myoid friend, who was 
not present. I 
Therc is nothing which should br thought 
incredible in this. 'fe experience every day 
sensations quite as ,\Cnderlu), and more incx- 
plic'lble. Take, for example, Memory. An 
lmpres!;ion is made on the mind by a particular 
fact. 'Ye can recal it at pleasure, as well as 
innumerable other cvcnts, but \\ e don't in the 
least understand how it is, or hy "hat proce-s 
"e remember; 
or is there anything to de- 
mon::.trate the eXistence of such, or any par- 
ticular impression as e
sting pel manelltly on 
thc mind, yet we J..now, by e\ery-day experi- 
ence, that a \ ery slight CIrcumstance s
!!ðti\'"c 
of any past e.ent "ill suffice to bring bad., 
as it \\'"cre, the picture of such c\'"ent to our 
mind as clearly as when the cnnt actually took 
plaec. 
,\ hy should not the eye, or its sensiti\"e 
cUI tain, Im\ e a r{'productive faculty? And D lY it 
not eXf'reise such f. ulty \"Cry readily in cases 
where thf'rc is any oLjpc t pn.sl.ntf'd to it sug- 
gcsti\"e of a former impres:,ion? \\ hethcr the 



36 (Februn.ry 20, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


AI
L THE YEAR ROUND. 


mere thinking of a particular person is sufficient I salmon - coloured church in the immediate 
to excite this reproducth-e facultv, I will con- vicinity (the lady and gentleman being con- 
sider on another occasion. 
 siderably taller than the church); who wrote 
that beautiful poetry ,,-here" love" is for ever 
sweetly linked with "dO\'e," save occasionally 
when it spoils the rhyme by a disposition to 
"rove," or retire into a "grove," and where 
" twine" is so largely employed in the penultimate 
lines as to eon'\'"ey the idea that the poet ran his 
poetry off a reel and made it up in balls; who 
printed them, who coloured them, who stuck 
Cupids and transfixed hearts upon them; how, in 
fact, they found their way into those shop win- 
dows, to be offered to an affectionate public at 
prices varying from one farthing up to two 
pound two? 
I have been to the mint, and, lmvin ç seen love's 
tokens coined, I am now about to describe the 
process. No matter how I discovered the mint; 
suffice it that, from information I received, I pro- 
ceeded there, and found Cupid and Company ac- 
tively engaged in their bu:siness, on extensive pre- 
mises situated in Love-lane, number thirty-five. 
Perhaps you are unacquainted with Love-lane: 
mav never have heard of it before. "\Vell,-no 
matter; if you should e'\'"er 
o there, you will 
find it remarkably like Reù LlOn-square. Paint 
the picture how you will, you cannot make any- 
thing but a red lion of it. However, Love-lane 
is better, as it gets rid of an unpleasant associa- 
tion wit.h the :Mendicity Society, an idiot asylum, 
and several forlorn institutes, with dirty door- 
steDs and cobwebbed windows. The outside of 
Cupid's manufactory is perhaps a little disen- 
chanting to the visitor, who has been drawing 
fancy pictures of it in his mind coming along. 
If you expect wreaths and festoons, you will be 
disappointed; if you look for cornucopias, you 
will not find them j if you have called up a 
vision of Cupid swinging on a rope of roses 
over the doorway, you will not realise that 
vision. You find simply a plain brick house, 
bearinO' no othCi" emblem of the trade carried 
on witYlin than a pair of iron extinguishers on 
each side of the doorway, in which, by a con. 
siderable stretch of the imagination, you may 
conceive the torch of Hymen to haye been occa- 
sionally quenched, at a period prior to the in- 
troduction of gas. N either the re? rose, nor the 
bluc violet, nor the s"\leet camaÌloll, embowers 
the windo,,-s; these being' wholly unadorned, 
rather dingy, and provided each with a "\lire 
blind, on ,,'hich are painted, in the se'\erest prose, 
the words" Cupid and Co., :Manufacturers." 
Entering that mundane doorway, and wiping 
my feet on that cocoa-nut mat, of the earth 
earthy, I could not conceive the realm of sub- 
limated fancy which lay beyond, .With a lively 
impression of what was aft erwards revealed to 
me, I feel now that it was like going up the 
greasy gallery-stairs of a theatre, t? 
nd the trans- 
formation scene on, and all the fames gracefully 
reposing in the Eower of Bliss. . I "\Ias not, 
however, inducted to the mystenes too sud- 
denly. A youtlJ, in all the elegance of turned- 
np shirt-sleevcs, came and took my card, and 
I had to wait in the counting-house-Cupid's 


WHAT WAS IT? 


11' was not a scold, nor a cuff, nor a kick, 
The wound of a sword, nor a blow from a stick, 
A shot from any sort of a gun 
That ever was forged beneath the sun, 
A fall from a horse, nor a bite of a dog; 
A burn from a torch carried out in a fog, 
That made me ache confoundedlv 
Just where a gentleman's heart 
hould be. 
lt was not a plaister, nor lotion, nor draught, 
Homæopath practice, Or AlIopath craft, 
Kor any description of patent pill, 
That ever was pounded to cure or kiU: 
:Nor the cure for ner....es that are running to seed- 
A sedative puff of the fr:\grant "weed," 
That cured my pain. 'Twas a smile for me 
Just where a pretty girl's lips should be. 
For my heart had been aching for many a da;y, 
And my mind full of trouble and sorrow, 
I vowed that I neyer would see her again; 
But haunted her steps on the morrow. 
I worried my friends, and neglected my work, 
Was horribly jealous of stupid young Smirk, 
In short, was a nuisance to hear or to see, 
Just as a fellow in love should be. 
'"\ell, well! it's all over, my smile I got, 
,! Anù stole something else from its pretty birth-spot, 
, I Went home with a breast that with rapture was 
thrilling, 
I G:lYe cabbie a sovereign insteaù of a shilling, 
I And the sweet lips that cured me-at breakfast anù 
I tea 
Are just where a gentleman's wife's should be, 


CUPID'S 
IAKUFACTORY. 


TIlE Imme and address of the eminent manu- 
facturing firm of Cupid and Co. are not to be 
found in the Post-office Directorv. I know this 
because I have searched the 
 magnum opus 
through all its di,'isions without bemg able to 
disco.er them. Nevertheless, the firm has not 
only a name but a local habitation; and I have 
visited the habitation, been o.er the ,yorks, 
and know all about the concern. I have long 
aspired to possess this knowledge. Years past, 
when, long before the advent .of the month 
".hich is popularl.v supposed to usher in the 
I mating season of both birds and men, I have 
noticed the windows of small booksellers and 
stationers break out into a pictorial rash in an- 
ticipation of the Feast of St. Valelltine, I have 
been in the habit of ".ondering" how and where 
the outbreak originated. With regard to such 
I matters I can claim a certain cnmmunity of mind 
, with his deceased majesty, King George the 
Third, 1fhen I see apple-dumplings I am very 
curious to know bow the apples found t heir way 
in
ide the dumplin
s. So, for years, I was 
anxious to know where the valentines came 
from; who executed those highly-coloured illus- 
trations of a lady and 
entleman ,,-alkillg arm 
in arm up a pale bro" n pathway towards a 



Cha.rlel DlckellL] 


[February
, lsr4.] 37 


II 


ALL THE YEAR ROUKD. 


counting-house !-until he return d, 
hich he 
evcntually did. quite at Lis lei ure, "histlin
 
what at first he.\rin
 appeared to be Love's 
1. oung Dream. but \\ hich I pr<< sently recognised 
as a melody less in harmony 
it h the gf'nius loci 
-namely. The "'hole Hog or None, "
ould I 
step this \\ ay ? I did so \\ ith a ner\"ous hesita- 
tion natural to the novelty of my position, and 
next moment found m"self confronted with 
a remarlnbly good-Iookiìl
 little gentleman. 

ho ackno\\ledgcd, in an!)wer to my polite in- 
sinuat ion in that direction. that he \\ as Cupid. 
I don't know that I \\ a3 quite prepared for 
the per
')nal appearance he presented. It had 
ne\"er occurred to me to picture the God of 
Ll've, even in his manufacturing capacity, other- 
wi, , than in a full suit of \\ ings and with a bow 
and arrow. But here he stood before me in a 
black frocl-coat and a pair of-possibly SJden- 
lw.m-trC\llsers. ..\ lit! Ie reflection, ho\\ ever. 
reconciled me to the male up. I had thought 
of Cupid as he appears on Jugh days and holi- 
da,,!>. But here he was" in business." Ko 
do'ubt the wings were carefully doubled down 
under the broadcloth, and the bow and arrow 
were probably hun
 up in the best bedroom 
with the pink fleshings, ready for Sunday. 
Cupid received me with a courtesy which "as 
most flattering, eonsiderin
 that I had come 
there, a stranger, boldly preferring a request to 
be shown O\'er his establishment. and initiated 
into the m\"steries of his craft. He was read v to 
showme all without resene. and, leading the \fay, 
he introduced me at once into the press-room. 
It was lile a chan1ber in the 
Iint. The 
lnobbed arms of fi\"e or six fly-presses were 
swinging about so near each other that it seemed 
impossible to steer through them "ithout being 
dashed to pieces. I did not try. The presses 
,"ere stopped, and I was shown how a plain 
sheet of paper was prepared for a lace-edged 
\ alentine, E,-ery one is familiar with the pro- 
cess of die-stamping, so tl1Ís part of the opera- 
tion will not require minute description. The 
paper is laid upon the matrice, the arms of the 
pl"e
s arc f:>wung round and the die descends, 
embossing the paper by one pressure. But the 
dies here are no ordinary dies, and the process 
is 
 et far from complete. Each die consists of 
a heavy square block of iroll cnclosed with the 
mat rice ill a metal box, which is furnished with 
two handles like the legs of a pair of ton
s. for 
the eon\"enience of the operator. The design, 
after being dra\\ n upon the surface of the iron, 
i
 hammcred into it by means of steel punches. 
ThE' iron of the die, of course, is softer-or 
rat her I should say less hard-than t he material 
of the punch; but" hen the design is completed 
the.die is hardened by the usuaI'proce
') of tem- 
permg. A C1'reat number and \ arict\'" of punches 
arc required to execute a design. For example, 
in an embossed border every little hcxa
on, 
enry dot, and every fio\\ er, reeJuires a separate 
punch. The e,eeutlon of a design, therefore, is 
a tedious nnd expensi\'e process. There are, 
pcrhap8, a hundred different dit:s about the 
room, and some of them h
\ e cost nearly twenty 
Il 


pounds. The matrices are madc of mill- 
board, and, ranged on shclves round the walls, 
look like a library of well-thumbed dog-nred 
books. I am now standing aside, and the fly- 
pres.ses are in full s\\ing clllbossiD
two or three 
sheets of paper each per minute. Some of th
se 
sheets arc plain; others contain a picture in the 
centre. as, for example, the before-mentioned 
lady and gentleman. who, with the pathway and 
the church, have already been printed On the 
p,aper by the familiar process of üthography. 
I'hey arc now receiving embossed borders. The 
ne'tt process is to convert these borders into 
paper lace, with all the interstices proper to the 
particuhr kind which the design represents. The 
dies arc removed from the presses, aud "ith the 
em bossed shcets handed over to a distinct set 
of workmen in another room, These workmen, 
who practise this branch of the manufacture 
solely and exclusi\-ely, lay the embos!>ed paper 
neatly on the die, adjusting it exactlv by means 
of reguhting pins at the corners, amI then with 
flat iron tools covered with fine sand-paper. rub 
off the {1rojecting bosses on the paper. fhis 
process is very neatly and rapidly performed, 
and a strip of Valenciennes or 
lechlin starts 
out under the tool at e\ ery rub, In this room 
a dozen workmen do nothing else all day long- 
but use Hie sand-paper file. It is a very ma- 

ical way of making lace, and the operdtion 
seems easv, but it is not so easv as it seems. It 
requires great nicety of touch not to tear the 
paper. Une of the pressmen down stairs, who 
c"'<;ayed to complete the process for my benefit, 
signally failed with the sand-paper file. and tore 
what might have been a gorgeous messenger of 
lo\"e, all to tatters, 
I.Jet us follow our valentine step by step from 
its cradle to-I will not say its grave, but to 
that neat white box in which it is packed, '\\ ith 
others of its kind, to be sent out to the trade. 
IJet us say that wc begin with the sheet of 
paper bearÌng the plain, unadorncd presentment 
of the lady and gentleman lovingly wcnding 
their W3.y towards the sacred fane. 1Ye have 
seen theDl encompassed by an embossed border; 
we have seen that border magically transformed 
into lace, But still, "ith all this, the valent ine 
remains in the penny plain condition. X ow, 
howe\ er. it passes into the twopence eoloured de- 
partment-a long room. con taming some tWlnty 
nrat-handed nymphs seated at a bench, each 
with a little pot of liquid water-colour at her 
elbow. Valentine comes into the hand of 
nymph number one, X\"mph lays it flat be Core 
her, and places o.er it:) surface a perCorated 
sheet of cardboard, the perforations in which 
correspond enctly with, ny the pathway. The 
bn15h is dipped in the {Jot of p'l.le brown and 
daubed o\"er the perforahons. Behold the r
le 
brown pathway! The valentine pas"es to nY'l1ph 
number two, who nsns nnother stencil platt' of 
cardboard, and d'mbs in thc salmon-colpured 
church. X umber three in the s.'\me n 
 pr 
dashes in the gentleman's blue coat, number I 
four his ,"ellow wa.istcoat, number fi\ chis PllO I 
continuations, number six the lad) 's green I 
I 



[February 20, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


II 


ALL THE YEAR ROUKD. 


mantle, number seven the lady's pink bonnet, 
'" hile it probably remains for other nymphs to 
clothe the fields with verdure, and indicate the 

miling morn by tipping the hills with gold. 
Thus a highly-coloured 'Valentine passes through 
; t least half a dozen lJands in the process of 
colouring, or poolling, as it is technically called. 
The pooning cards, perforated with all sorts of 
irregular holes, and daubed with various colours, 
h..,.e a very odd appearance, lying together in a 
he.lp on a bench. A stranger to these mysteries 
could not possibly guess the use of such queer 
tLillgs. He would probably arri,'e at the conclu- 
sion that they were the efforts, not of methodical 
genius, but of most unmethodical madness. 
.When our valentine has passed through this 
room, it is, for all ordinarv purposes, complete, 
and, with a lace border. and highly-coloured 
illustration, lllay be sold at prices varying from 
sixpence to half-a-crown; but if it aspire to 
,alue itself at five shillings or half a guinea, it 
must yield to further adornment in another de- 
partment. Again, a long room occupied by 
nymphs, each one havin&, at her elbow a pot, 
not of colour this time, but of glue. Strewed 
before each girl in apparent confusion, but 
really in reg'Ularly-assorted heaps, lie hearts and 
darts and doves and bows and arrows, and rose- 
buds and true lovers' knots, and torches of 
Hymen, and every ,ariety of emblem appertain- 
ing to love and matrimony. These ornaments 
are cut out of every kind of material by means 
of punches. Some are paper, some are silk and 
,-el,et, some tinsel and gold-leaf. The business 
of the girls here is to stick these ornaments 
upon the valentines, so as perhaps to enclose 
the picture in a posie of flowers and emblems. 
Our lady and gentleman are now under treat- 
ment. You will observe that there is an un- 
adorned space between the border <IDd the pic- 
ture, This is about to be filled up, and the 
basis of the operation is a series of paper springs. 
Cupid, who is in close attendance, explaining 
everything- in the most obliging maImer, says to 
the nymph, "Show the gentleman how you 
make paper springs." It. is done in a moment. 
A strip of "Titing-paper is doubled lengthways 
alternately backwards and forwards three times 
-in the form of a pipe-light-and then cut into 
lengths of about half an inch. The lower ends 
of these springs are fastened to the valentine 
'with glue, and then upon the upper surfaces are 
fixed strips of plain flat paper. Upon these 
strips the nymph, according to a design which 
lies before her, arranges flowers and love-knots 
and all kinds of devices. Immediately over the 
church she glues on a gilt Cupid; at the corners 
she places birds' -nests with eggs; down the 
sides, festoons of flowers, relieved here and 
there ,,-ith united hearts and crossed darts and 
l:res and flying doves, This decoration forms a 
pretty bas-relief frame to the pict.ure, and the 
paper springs,," hich support it permit the frame 
to be pressed fiat for the convenience of pack- 
ing. Each of the girls in this department is at 
".ork upon a different design, some of \lhich are 
exceedingly pretty and tasteful. Some, too, are 


very expensive. Here, for example, is one con- 
taining in the centre a really well-executed pic- 
ture, in the ivory miniature style, of Cupid, sur- 
rounded by a rich ornamental border studded 
with pearls. The price of this elegant article, 
enclosed in an enamelled box neatly tied up \1 ith 
white satin ribbon, is two guineas. I am natu- 
rally curious to know if many of these are sold. 
The answer to my query is, " A good many." I 
am informed, however, that the most expensive 
chiefly go to the colonies. I could imagine a gold- 
di:rg er buying this valentine with the pearls, 
and paying for it '" ith a nugget. It seems Yery 
absurd to give two guineas for a valentine, but 
the one under notice really appears to be worth 
the money. It. is a most elaborate affair, and, 
as a piece of delicate workman and workwoman- 
ship, looks to be better ,,'orth the price than 
many fancy articles of more intrinsic value which 
we see in the" indows of the jen ellers. The 
brightly-coloured varnished flowers that are used 
in this department hare hitherto been made 
almost exclusively in Germany, but Cupid in- 
forms me, with great satisfaction, that be will 
shortly be in a position to compete with the 
Germans on their own ground, and dispense 
with foreign aid altogether. 
Our lady and gentleman are now proceeding' 
to church under every imaginable circumstance 
of glory. Cupid keeps \latch O\-er them "itlt 
more than a cherub's personality, doves flutter 
round them, flowers bloom at their feet, while 
the air is laden with a rich perfume, emanating, 
I am bound to state, from a pinch of Jockey 
Club artfully inserted in a piece of cotton wool, 
and sto\led away under the exalted seat of 
Cupid. Still our lady and gentleman ha,-e to 
pass through another ordeal. They must step 
into the next room and be examined. Nymphs 
again are the examiners, and there are six of 
them. They sit here permanently, as a com. 
mittee of taste. If there be anything wrong, 
a dO\-e flying with its feet in the air, a Cupid 
standing on his head, or a rose violating the laws 
of nature by growing downward, the lady and 
gentleman are sent back to have their glorious 
surroundings put to rights; if not, they recei,e 
the imprimatur of approval
 and arc placed in 
cardboard boxes to be delivered to the trade. 
In following the progress of our valentine 
from the embossing-room to the finishing de- 
partment, we have passed in review about sixty 
hands, nearly forty of these being girls, the rest 
men and boys. In all the departments the work 
struck me as being of a healthy and cheerful 
kind. The rooms are well lighted and airy, 
and the girls exhibit none of the languor and 
weariness which are painfuHy apparent in the 
workrooms of the miliiner and dressmaker. 
They are ,cry neatly dressed, and some of them 
are very pretty, and these appearances, together 
with a briskness of manner and a cheerfulness 
of expression, convinced me that if the Song 
of the Valentille were written, it would form a 
happy contrast to the Song of the Shirt. The 
girls ,,'ork from eight o'clock in the moming 
till seven o'clock at night, with intervals for 



Charles Dicken..] 


'I. ruary . I' .J 39 I' 


.\LL THE YEAU l
Ot:"XD. 


rl n4 r and tea, and th ir W3.O' .oJ ranbe frow five 
t fifteen shillin'13 a "ell.., the anraO'é being 
'11 fur the :!J...ill
lI hands, and five for young be. 
O'inncr:!-mere children, wh I ccnainJy clJuld not 
;-m as much money at anythi"l
 d!'e. AlthlJurrh 
tbcr(" 'tre slack and bU!>J seaSlJns in this trade, 
a.i in evcry other, till" employment is pretty 
rr....ular all the "rar roun.!. At t bis mom nt 
:>r . _t'i and die-silllers .Ire at work for next YlJ.1'. 
About June or July th ir de 
igns "ill be fini!'hcd, 
and copies struck off for the tra\ ellers who go 
( ut with their p_ttern-bools. as early as August. 
And there arc articles bcsi les valentines made 
here: articles which come in at unpoetical 
sr, ons, to leep the machinery of the establish- 
ment in full play. Among- tho
e lace dies in 
the pre 5-room, you will find a considerable 
.um(,er of dirs for printing trade marls-labels 
fIr bottles, and tmsel de\ ic"s for linen and 
c.ùieo, duly regi"toced-to imitate which is now 
.t misdemeanour, punishable with fine and im- 
J risonment. The tr:lde marl..:) for linen and 
cntton fabrics, ho\\ cver, are quite in the \ alcn- 
t.ne style, and onlv fall short of ideality in so 
Lr as they are rninùs Eoetry. Here, for e:\ample, 
J an O\'al device in silver paper, in the midst of 
\\ hich a lady of the ballet is standing on the 
t'ery tips of her toes, gracefully surrounding 
her lovely form by a scarf-the whole being de- 
si:med to gi, e the stamp of authenticity to a 
I'de of muslin, "hich is pos:.libly destined to be 
cut up for bridal 
rmcnts. I scarcely expected 
in Cupid's manufactory to meet with an Impor- 
t nt and significant commercial fact. But I 
did. It is, that the demand for trade marks for 
cotton goods, which fell off suddenly at the be- 
ginning of the American war, and which a year 
R:?O ceascd almost entirely, is now again becomin
 
a
tive. A sign of revhing trade among the 
,mbols of languishinf:\ love, which I commend 
tõ the notice of the City-artiele writers. It is 
1 0 worthy of notc, that the e'port trade in 
,akntines is revit'ing. That, too, was damaged 
hy the Transatlantic struggle: there being na- 
tur.\lIy no corner for love, in hearts inflamed 
with :mger and hate. 
Rut let not consider'ttions of commerce and 
p,>litics interfere vith the hi
hcr claims of art. 
Two of the questions "hieh I often put to 
myself in t he days" hen I was wholly ignorant 
of the .
eat valentine economy 
 et remain un- 
answered. .Who draws the pictures? ,rho writes 
the poetry? For a practical elucidation of this 
mystery \ve very properly and fitly go up-stairs 
tv the higher regions of the establishment. In 
a well-lighted room, e,clusi\ely devoted to art, 
we find si't draughtsmen transferring their 
d('.;
ns to stone. The designs are highly 
fini
hed and elaboratrly coloured, and some of 
them are r{'ally hea'.Jtiful. They don't look so 

 ell when theÿ are printed, for much the same 
reo m that a wood-engr
n ill
 ro.irely comrs up 
to the orig-inal drawing. r.I.'hey are spoilt by 
the ht"wj-handcd proce 3 of colouring, as the 
dra" ing on wood is oftl>n mam...} by the 
el ;ra\ er. There are no middle tints. It g0C<: 
if yuu will e:\cuse the popular phrase, the 


wbole hoO' or none. Bright blue or no
 hin!?, 
blood red' and no surrender! LookinfP, how- 
e\er, at some of the drawings, I Coin detect no 
fault in them, I have seen \\ orse things " 
on the stairs of the Royal AcadelU'y. Hut 
these de. i
ns are intended tor the superIOr ordpr 
of valentines. The common linds and the 
comic kinds are dra\vu out of dours. Kothing 
coarse or vulgar is issued from this esta- 
bli::.bment, and the common specimens are only 
common, in so far as the paper is inferior and the 
dra" ing is dashed in witfl more regard to effect 
than finish, The subjects of some of the comic 
valentines are copied from drawings in Punch 
and bis humorous contemporaries, but the great 
majority of them are orif)inal, and deal mainly 
with the passing follies and f
hions of the day 
-crinoline, the Dundreary whiskers, the jacket 
coat, the spoon bonnet, and so forth. The 
regular comic artist of the establisbment-a 
very clever feHow, by the way-does not work 
on the premises: his fancy bem
 probahly of too 
buoyant a nature to brook. belll
 chained to a 
hench, Or controllcd by regular hours. I under. 
stand that he is a highly prosperous person, 
that he dri, es up to the door in a Hansom cab, 
and is \ ery sharp and short with the head of the 
firm. Tbe poet, too, works out; but it was my 
happiness to meet him on the door-step on 
takin
 my lea, c. I am bound to say that he 
looled like a poet. He had raven ring-lets, 
wore a cloak witb a velvet collar, and had a 
fine phrensy in his eye. I caught it just as it 
was rolling, and I said to myself, "Nascitur, non 
fit." " hat does he 5ing of our lady and gen- 
tleman churchward-bouud along the pale brown 
path" ay ? 
The path before me gladly would I trace, 
'Vith one who's dearest to my constant heart, 
To ).onder church, the holy sacred place, 
"'here I my vows of Love would fain impart; 
And in sweet wedlock's bonds unite with thee, 
Oh, then, how blt:St my life woultl ever be! 
And there is that rather sporting-looling 
young man, in the green waistcoat and the pink 
necltie, grasping by the hand the generally blue 
maiden in the gipsy hat under the cliffs-appa- 
rently, of Do,"er-who thus pours forth his soul : 
Ke'er doubt, fair maid, the vows I make, 
A constant heart no time can shale; 
Rather than cau:.e it e'er to "ander, 
Time, the true heart, makes grow fonder. 
Our poet is evidently of a serious turn, and 
g-i\ en to the sentimental and the patbetic; 
finds it difficult to screw himself down to the 
10\\ level of the comic. There is quite a touch 
of the pastoral stJle in the opeuing line of his 
satÌ1e upon the lady in the spoon bonnet: 
Tell ml', gentle lady fair, 
Why such ugly things )"ùu wear. 
:-;urdy all :> our wits are lied, 
.:\ .spoon to carry on your hesd. 
He is almost didactic in his se\"uity upon 
the gentleman with the scrubbiug-bru!>h blard, 
wbo is admiring himself in the looling-glass: 



40 [FðbnuJ.ry 20, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


Looking at thyself within the glas
, 
You appear lost in admiration; 
You decei\"e yoursE'lf, and think, alas! 
You are a wonder of creation. 
If it be alleged that the poet-laureate of Love 
is somewhat halt, it must be remembered that 
Love himself is blind. I have not heard that a 
butt of sherris sack forms part of the reward of 
Cupid's laureate; but I believe his verses are 
estimated as being worth twopence a line, which 
is, at any rate, a penny over the conventionally 
standard price of prose. At this price, the poem 
just quoted would come to eightpence. But the 
great difficult.y in dealing with the \"'alentine poet 
is to make him comprehend that brevity is not 
only the soul of wit, but the essence of economy. 
His efforts are \"'ery frequently vain, owing to 
his strong disposition to spin the subject out 
to twelve lines, and make an even shilling of it. 
There are many pounds of poetry up-stairs that 
wOlùd have been declined with thanks had they 
not been furnished by contract. 
It might be imagined that the hard practical 
nature of our time had tended in some degree to 
bring the sending of valentines into contempt, as 
being a practice beneath the dignity of the age. 
But this is by no means the case. Cupid informs 
me that, in the height of his season, he turns 
out two hundred and fifty pounds' worth of 
valentines a week, and 
t these times he pays 
about a hundred and SIxty pounds a week in 
wages. That his business is yearly on the in- 
crease is proved by the annual report of the 
Postmaster-General, which shows that, while 
the number of valentines which passed through 
the London office in 18ß2 was four hundred and 
thirty thousand, in lSß3 it was upwards of four 
hunch.ed and fifty thousand, The iron of our 
age has not entered the national soul so deeply, 
after all. 


OLD CLOTHES. 


NOTHING, perhaps, is so full of sad sug-ges- 
tiveness as an old-clothes shop. It is an epi- 
tome of human life, working out in its own 
dumb way the form, if not the solution, of many of 
the problems which oppress us, and setting forth 
in faded, melancholy fashion, the vanity of all 
earthly things, and how transitory is all created 
beauty. Each coat and hat and limp loose 
gmm might be a text for preachcrs, and no one 
need sit vacant for want of thought while ragged 
remnants of past glories are moulderinO' in the 
ding'y air beside him. The histories 
f whole 
families are written there, and the saddest 
tragec.ies that evil days and folly can enact 
together are phrased in those shabby wardrobes, 
ofl'cring their deca.red gentlehood to the baser 
world, '''hat analogies may we not find and 
make there! The tlimsy tags of Florinda the 
stag'e-cluchess, come down by steady degradation 
to Dolly the dairymaid, and that Dolly a 'Vhite- 
, chapel dairymaid, who would as soon attempt 
to milk an elephant as a cow-why that one 
single image is an essay in itself all all things 


sham and seeming! The fine velvet bonnet 
that once ben
 its stateliness to Royalty in 
t!le Park, pas
lDg throu.
h. the crush-mill of 
tune and servile uses, tul It falls to final ruill 
on the head of a crossing sweeper-could the 
Preac!ler !1Ïmself have fòund a fitter example 
for hIS pIteous cry over the faHin'" of the 
miçhty, and the vanity of vanities of 
hich life 
and the earth are made? Look at that soiled 
worn baby's fro.ck hanging up by the torn slrcvc: 
a
d 
arked at Just a few pence, so few as to be 
withm the compass of a very beggar. Soiled 
and worn, the texture of that baby's frock can 
scarcely be made out from here, but take it in 
your.1land and e
amine it for yourself; you will 
find It to be of nchest silk, fit for the coronation 
robes of the Queen of Sheba. That v,as the 
countess's court-dress one gorgeous June day. 
By degrees my lady's gown lost little and little, 
and more and more, of its lustrous loveliness, 
till it grew dull enough for Abigail, who pranced 
to church in it on Sundays, proud as my lady 
herself on that memorable presentation day. 
Then it went to Abigail's little nieces at Uie 
greengrocer's YOllder - the standard Sunday 
frock for many years, till at last cut down to 
baby's requirements, whence, when baby had 
grown big, '\Ias no beyond. And then it came to 
the old-clothes shop, and perhaps to the singing 
beggar with a borrowed baby in the streets. 
Look at that girl's ball-dress, once so light 
and pure; useless, if you will, like all a girl's 
pleasures-the mere froth of human life, b'ut of 
the froth t.hat floated Venus Anadyomelle to the 
Cyprian shore-and see what it is now: a 
ball-dress still, but fit only for a gathering of 
chimney..sweeps, each in his own colours, sable 
splashed with gules. Haye the freshness and 
purity gone out of her soul as they have out of 
her dress? From being fit comrade of the 
vestals, 
vith robes as snowy and spotless as 
theirs, has she fallen into ranks which the soil 
of burnt-out ashes and the stain of impure fires 
have sealed and marked to enduring degrada- 
tion? That torn, soiled, tattered ball-dress
 
once so fresh in its virginal grace and modesty, 
ah me! it is no pleasant sight to see it swinging 
here, crushed into disgraceful fouilless, among 
these worn-out castings of recklessness and 
ruin! Side by side '\lith this hangs a widow's 
"suit of sables," glossy aDd fresh, the crispness 
of the crape untouched, and the depth of black- 
ness in the solemn stuff by no means rusted by 
use. There thcy lie, handy for the first pOÒl' 
weeping applicant, who 'will 110t stop to ask 
why they look so Dew and fcel so fresh, or how 
it comes to pass that the snowy cap is sno,,"y 
yet, or why the deep crape veil has no tear- 
dimmed spaces on it. Grief and poverty toge- 
ther will blind one eye and open the other; for 
when our own hearts are saturated with sorrow 
we have seldom any sympathy left l"Unlling o"er 
for balm to the sorrows of others; and when the 
metal lining of our purses has fallen away to a 
mere glaze, like picture-frame gilding, we are 
110t often solicitous as to the reason ,"-hy we 
obtain a shilling's worth for our worn-out six- 



ALL THE YE.\It ROGXD. 


,I 
1 n"e. Enough for us if it he honestly obtained. 
Of the tt.fl'ible pressul"C frolll "ithout "hieh 
bruught it down to thi3 lo\"er le\ el, \\ 
 neither 
tl ink nor ask. 
.A traO't-dy lic!! 11l that well,ulade, substan- 
ti1.l, but SlJlllC\\ h1.t old-f
hioncd e(,at of fine 
bruadcloth, a trifle n lJrIl about the seams and 
rlbO\H, but in excellent prcsenatirm 
et, and 
\\ v. th, enn in its decadence, more th,.iU the 
ne'., e
t and mo
t fa
hionahl) -cut paletot of 
sham and shoddy to be met with. .\. good, 
p'ain, "ub..tantial, and thoroughly rt:spectable 
c at; a coat that tdls its 0\\ n history oC the 
p temal acrt:s so long held intdet in the famil) ; 
c f tht: solid English worth and stainless Eng- 
li::.h name \\ hich ha\ e been 
o\\ ed and reaped 
for all these generations, and \\ hicll now have 
cJlue to the hammer lile tht' slightest thing of 
ye terday bought only for its hour of shine and 

litter. 1Ye can easily picture all that has 
brought this coat of honest broadcloi h to the 
ragn;an'
 shop-to the companion
hip of stage- 
spangle.. and the soiled ball-dre
ses of feather- 
hC.1ded girls, not careful of playing with fire; 
we can run through the causes, one by one, 
tha broke the ploughshare short off the yoke 
before the sowing-time was done, so that the 
COIn gre\\ up chokcd with \\eeds and couch- 
gra::.::., and strewn with flaring poppies, fiery red 
10r shame of flaunting "here the children's 
br
ad should have been. Bad companions; the 
file \\ eJ.lness that c,mnot say K 0, and that 
c ,nsents to iniquity because too soft-tempered 
to rl si:-t; the fatal love for what nas unworthy 
-a 10\ e that grew lile flaring poppies among 
the corn, and took up the place of the quieter 
and nobler gro\\ ths, yet an honest love, too, 
in the man's hcart, and therefore of more 
p nicious influence; the large-handedness, tra- 
âil ional to the race, \\ idening into lavishnes3, 
amI la\'ishness de!;enerating into cxtra\ agance, 
; . d extra\'agallee losing itself in the black peat- 
L ,!; of ruin-yes, ,\ e can read off all its hi!!tory 
il, l:'
 \\ ùm seams and elbo" s of that stout old- 
fe .hioDed coat of fine:!t broaùcloth, lyin
 now 
in the old-clothes shop to be bought ana trom 
b\ burglar, thief, or sharper, at pleasure, And 
tLre, down in the rich Ilf'art of Kent, lie the 
L.ùkcn ploughshare and the l"Usty harrow- 
t 're the mother sits by the darkened casement, 
loo1..in!; 0\ er the fair fields that were once her:!, 
a-ld that are now 3. sh'an
er's; there, in the 
quiet churchyard, slceps the bra, e old father 
\\ h 3 ht.art would ha\ e broken if he had lived 
tv "f . tJ'is day; while, on his tombstonc for a 
tin
-placr sits the fair-faced ruin \\ ho has 
,p d hi
 son to his fall. Scarlet poppies are 
11. her hand, and her eyes are blue as that blue 
...
.4biolls at her feet, her golden hair hang's do\\ n 
in tendriL lilc the curling stems of the climbing' 
\ eh.'" \\ hich ha\ e overrun the corn-fields, and 
she .it :; on the old man's granstone and laughs 
t her companion, and lures him, too, on to his 
d ructi )D, as she has lured on others, and "ill 
a ,in. But that companion is not the son of 
tu . old) coman. :::,he lias dúne \\ il h him; ever 
siJ u
 she \\ rung the last suiuing from him, got 


CharlelDickenL] 


[FLbrualJ . 1 4.] 


11 


by the sale of his Cather's broadcbth coat to l:'e 
old-clothesman in lloundsditeh. 
AnúLher sad tale is told in those motheat. n 
blanlf'ts; largc, soft, \\ drm-lit for n ro
al bl Ù 
"hen they \H rc new, and would be still, had 
they been properly c'lred for. But thry br. 
longed to the household of a carcl ''"1 \\ oman; 
a \\oman who scouted homely work and ways- 
who sat with her feet on the fender and reud 
nO\ cIs, \\ hile her children sprawled on thL 
ground untended, and her household \\"ent to 
pieces for \\ anl of the sustaining hand to lnit it 
tog-ether. She started with a fair \\ ind and all 
sails set, when she put out into the great sea of 
life and 100iug marr
e: but she brought her 
ship before long to shameful \\ leck by her carl. 
lessness and indolence, and the cvil pilotint;' of 
neglect. She let the moth cat into her blaulct , 
and the rust eat into her steel, and the damp 
mildew her silk and linen, and the mice de\ our 
her cheese and bacon; till her husband one day 
saw himself gazetted as a bJ.nkrupt, because his 
\\ ife liled to read novels better than to lcep 
house, and preferred the heroisms of romance 
to the nobleness of reality. Therc arc more 
motheaten blankets in middle-cJass houses than 
one would like to contemplate. if one but knew 
the secrets of store-closets: the homely duty of 
careful housekeeping ha\'ing fallen into dis- 
favour of late among the tribe of fine lawes. 
Here, too, are ba
kets of second-hand bahy- 
clothes-laJetLe!:, as our neighbours call them 
-the bo\\::. and ends of white ribbons gone 
long ago, and the briO'ht pinl flannel washed 
into a melancholy salmon - colour, as unlile 
the radiancy of its first freshnews as thc hoary 
sinner is unlike the innocent bo
, Perhaps 
that basket oC baby-clothes has done duty for 
a long succession of little strangers; so no 
wonder if all thc fincry bas disappeared, iC the 
bows and tags of white satin ribbon have bcen 
cu t off, if the worked fl ills and flounces ha \ e 
more rents than broideries in them, For the fil
t, 
mamma thought it no hardship to strip her yet 
young' marriage clothes of half their prettiness, 
that she might make baby look the child of a 
prince at least. Older mothers smiled in their 
hearts when they saw mamilla snipping off her 
fincries; they l.ncw to what a peaceful state of 
languid indilferenee in the matter of ribbons 
and laces she \\ ould come by the time the sixth 
or e\ en the fifth had to be provided for; and 
how a lopsided strip of old grey-bearded 
Saxony, if only sen ieeable to its purpose, would 
be quite as acceptable in her eycs as the ex- 
actest parallelogram of delicate rose-colour 
bound with inch-wide ribbon exqui::,itcly worled. I 
.At present, it is all the diffcrence between the I 
ne" and the old, the strange and the \\ ell- I 
used, thc instinct just awa1..encd, and all blush- 
ing in its enlotion, and the instinct bc('')mc quite 
comely and matronly, and taling to it.. duties in a 
matter-of-fact kind of way, solicitous only for the 
expcdient and the actual necew_ity, :llotherhood 
ana baby.clothes are not the only tllings in this 
life that lo')e their sharpness by yearly \h '1r! 
:\ wr to thebe basle :) holdin; the warJro"cs I: 



ALL THE YEAR ROU
D. 


42 [Fc'Jruary 20, 18\)4.] 


[Conducted by 


of the small people, are bundles of faded mar- 
riage finery, where all that "Was once "hite has 
now turned a pale cream yelloW", and 'where 
dust and smoke have cast long pencil lines 
of dingy grey. The" edding-bells ftre silent 
now-there may have been a passing bell since 
their last peal rang out its "molten golden 
notes"-the "edding-feast is cold, and tIle 
wedding-dress is old and faded. Yet, per- 
haps, the hearts that bounded then in joy 
together, beat still in the full unison of lo,oe 
and trust, and the lives that ga.e themselves in 
mutual troth have ne,-er failed their f"OWS or 
wished the words unspoken. In the wreck and 
ruin of so much that lies about us, it is precious 
as sleep to the ".eary to believe in the quiet 
contÏI
1h1.nce of Im-e and the happy issue of faith! 
I It IS not pleasant to see a yeteran soldier's 
" coat hanging up for sale in a miserable rag- 
store, It haa an ungratéu
 look, as if both 
coat and wearer had gone to the dogs since 
, , their last day of nsefulness to the country, 
and no one cared to inquire how, or why, or if 
any of the pain could be averted. 1Ye ought 

 ! I to take better care of the old defenders of our 
hearths and homes than that, and not let the 
country's livery and the badge of sacrifice and 
valour come to open grief, swine-ing like a 
scarecrow among the graves of the aead. 
Close to the old scarlet coat dangle a pair 
of pink silk stockings, of ample size and perfect 
manufacture-fit for the legs of the grandest 
lord in the peerage, To" hich, indeed, they 
have belonged; for they are silk stockings that 
have once been gartered ,,-ith that courted bit of 
! blue, but are now to be sold to Snooks for money. 
Other things are to be sold to Snooks for money 
I I I in 
his early afternoon of the nineteenth century: 
thmgs which once were to be had only by the 
sharp logic of the sword, or through the pure 
I descent of blood. 
Look at that heap of linen rags; perllaps the 
most noticeable things of all in the collection. 
Those rags ,,'ere once the snowy wrapper 
I of a queen; but, passing down by the slow 
l ! I stages of successive uses, they.came at last to 
be mere rags-rags pure and sImple-good for 
I I dressing the poor man's sores in hospitals. And 
" now, having fulfilled aU the purposes possible in 
their present form, they are to go into the paper 
mill, there to become the medium of the best 
thoughts and the noblest instruction of our 
1 ime. It is pleasant to think of that transfor- 
mation ; and how, from stately beauty to homely 
'Use and pitiful charity, they mount up again into 
even a higher world than their pristine highest, 
and become the bearers of good words and the 
carriers of good thoughts to a thousand souls 
II seeking eagerly for the light which shall know 
i no night. But, indeed, everything has its 
' I uses. :Even the miserable rags and tatters 
I of the lowest OutC3St have their appointed 
II way for the benefit of the world, 11' as there 
! not once a Lord of Flies? Jupiter coming 
; down from Olympus, where, as Zeus on the 
I thunderbolt, he had been Sovereign of Gods and 
l L:en, to mak
 himsclf the immeiliate patron of 


the fly? The meaning of the m) th n.. have 
been-one 1
c<:.nin9 generally serving' the purpose 
of explanatIon qmte as "ell as anothe
.-that 
even the, ilest and most no
ious thin'" that Ii, es 
has a special usefulness in the divÌI
 econoffi": 
and a special place appointed in the di,ine 01'- 
dering; like the outcast's rags and tatter;:" which 
come to final and nobler uses to the" orld at large. 
Another noticeable feature in the old-clothes 
shop is the ingenious way in which old thill"'s 
are furbished up to pass for ne", and the clev
r 
manipulation b,- which fia,,-s are hidden defi- 
ciencies supplied, the "Worst parts put out or'siO'ht 
altogether, flnd the only slightly soiled made o to 
look unsullied by deÀterous juxtaposition. All 
life is onl
-a marshalling of comparisons; and "'ood 
is not to be found in absolutes, look '\\here
 .ou 
,:-ill. These shabby garments, furbished up to l
ok 
lIke new, senoe the purpose of novelty to the 
buyer; as old opinions, and gouty thoughts, and 
worn-out systems, and philosophies d.ying of 
atrophy and fatigue, polished up with plate 
leather, and steeped in benzine-collas, and cut 
and car.ed into new shapes and modes, pass for 
quite original with the unknowing, not quick at 
the hall-mark or clever in the generatioll of the 
loom, 


UXDER THE ROSE. 


A LOVELY 
Iay evening. Twilight melting' 
into moonlight-and it ,,-anted only a '\\eek 
to the ,,-edding, Jack 1V y,-ill belic.ed himself 
the luckiest man alive, and his Minnie the pret- 
tiest little darlwg in Christendom. He assured 
himself of these pleasing truths a score of 
times as he marched away towards Skelton 
Place, smoking his after-dinner cigar, with his 
honest hands thrust deep into his pockets, and 
his honest heart free from every shadow of care. 
He had come dowll from to'\\l1, by the six o'clock 
train, a da.' earlier than :Minnie had been bidden 
to expect him; and now he was off for a chat 
with the squire about the business that had car- I 
ried him to London, and a glimpse of her before 
sleeping. 
He had a two miles' walk before him, but 
t he way by the fields ,,-as pleasant, and his 
thouO'hts ,,-ere excellent company. He antici- 
pate8
1innie's exclamations of surprised delight, 
her face of joy at his return, and insensibly 
quickened his steps, flinging away the end of 
his cigar as he came within si"'ht of the gate 
into the plantation that bordered the park. It 
was quite dusk in the wood; but he could Im,-e 
followed the narrow path under the fir-trees 
blindfold; he had known it ever since he \\ as a 
lad, and for several months pa
t he had tra- 
versed it almost daily. The evening air was 
heavy ,,-ith the scent of the wild hyacinths, 
which grew here in lavish profusion, and Jack 
snuffed it up with a grateful sense of pleasure, 
feeling quite pastoral in his happiness, until 
suddenly his nostrils" ere delicately assa:led by 
anoUlCr perfume much less 'y Ivan hut m _ u _ ch m _ or _ e _ ' 1\ 
familiar-the perfume, iu ,hort, of a 
aPital cigar. 



,-== 
(" 


ns. 


[I "rtJ -y II " I 


ALL THI: YL-\R ltOrxn. 


I] 


"" 110 hLS the squir got tJin[!" itla him ?" 
sperl 1 . d he, f 11' tl s luir \\ S D ,t 
iHll 
to u....,. and thi:s ouuur J.tck inh I.d W.l!.o 
not tlu ')dour of g'\l1lele4 "or f!'ardellcr'!:, 
tmf us pipe. lIE' I oJ.....d behind and he 
101 led bef')re, nnd P' 'rt.,1 thrt-uNh the trt, S 011 
eilJ.cr lu.nd; but s....m... n I onl, .Iud not bl iu
 
CO\ rtou,> just then of an:. <õ.ociety c,<cept 
:Miuni(':
. he \\ent st1.\ic.;'ht on h' ".lY to the 
house, \\ it bout furUll'r inH..!!t iration. The squire 
"as taling his CU8tOIl1l\r\'" fort v "inks in the 
libmrv after dinner, and as J.lcl refused to 
distuib him, hc "as ushered into the dra\\in N 
room. whl re the butler tûlJ him he "ould find 
Lad\" \\ aalaeL; but" 
Iic:s 
linl1ie was out some- 
wbt:re \\ it h )li
:s Whm ton." 
Jack did not appro\'e of Minni 's temptin::i the 
de\\ aft '1' nightfall; he experienced a chill Sellf1\- 
tion of di
appointment at her absence, and L.ldy 
'\Yallaee'.. drow"v \\ rlcome did not \\ arm him. 
.. " ho is it ?"
 asled she, raising hcrself from 
the couch, "here she, too, had been taling a 
brief mf. "Ob. Mr. Wyvill, is it you? \\ e 
non*, of us cx peetcd you back until to-morrow or 
the da\"' after." 
",i\' business ,,"it h the law\'"ers was done, and 
there \
as nothiug else to stay.in town for," said 
he. 
.. .-\ nù of cou r5e you \\ ere eager to be at home. 
:\linnir" ouM tell YlJU in herlctters that her friend 
:Mi!>s "harton \\ as here. They \\ cnt out to- 
gether for a turn on thf' terrace about half an hour 
ago. They will be in soon, or perhaps \"ou 
would lile to go in quest of them ?" · 
" Xo, I'll v.ait. Thcy were not on the ter- 
race five minutes since, and I mif!'ht miss them 
if I ,,"ent into the gardens. That is the eon- 
scn at or)" door-here they are !" 
Yes, hcre they" ere. )1 innie entered first, "it h 
a black lace shawl thrown over her goldcn curls. 
and a bright natural rose on hcr check, which 
deepened to a burning blush when she espied 
ber 10\ cr. 
u Oh, Jack, ,,"as it '\"ou in the wood ? You 
gm e u
 such a fright !;, cried she, and ran for- 
"anI to mect him. 
U You should not go into the wood so late, 

linnie," said her aunt. "It is damp and un- 
wholesome." 
Jack ,,"yvill was as generous-tempered and as 
little 8u
picious as any gcntleman iu Yorkshire; 
but he be('
me sensiblc of a '\"rry uncomfortable 
spn m of doubt and dread clutching at his heart 
when he saw }Iiss "-liartol1 furti\'"eJy t,,"itch 
Minnif"s sleen, and gi\"c her a wanting glance. 
"le'), I came through the "ood; \\ ho was 
th_re with, ou :" c..id 'he, dropping the cordial 
hand that S)lC had C'i\Cn him \\ Ith such a prettv 
franlu( :5 and affection. 
 
'.':r\obody; "L wcre alone," was theunhcsi- 
tat
n!:; reply; and then the beaming blue eyes. 
whIch" ere the truthfulest e\"cs in the world, 
lifted them!>cl'\"es to his face, añd looked strai
ht 
at him \\ ith blank, que
tioning amazement. C'It 
seemed to Jack that Mi"s \Vharton 87ain p
ssed 
unnece. saril,. near them in gain!! towards the 
door, and he v. as sure she ga'\"e Minnie another 


· . " h\"' aJm\Jni
i u; fûr )Iinni turned h h \d 
quickl) tvwards her fli( nd, and tIt 'n 'm e 
\\ vuld retum ill a fl. \\ minute , foUo n d L h 
f the rVII,I. 
J .lcl "r \ rill felt lile a n a.l in a b ld L. n. 
lIe h
d nv\er met 
Ii \\ harton bcf<...r , b
t h 
h ld he I'd of her as a very sporti[ 
 " U I Z 
WOffi.\n, and at first si
ht he loathed her. W \\ 
!ohe tcachin
 his darlinO' 'Iinnie dl eihul 
 I 
 
it \\ as 
Iillnie's s\\ eet innocent ingcnuousll s 
that made half htr charm. If tho
e fair candid ('res 
of her!> took any ycil of slyne
s, they were ilot 
the evt:S he could see 10\ c iu. TLere m t II .re 
becn .somcbody in the wood v. ith them. He \\ as 
\ cry impetuous; he w:\s "ery anglJ ; he was 
more than LaIr in a mind to go away. It was 
'\"ery Juely J.ady "'allace broL.e up his d- en.y 
rc\crie by a requ< )t that he would ring th,. Ldl 
for tea; for that common-place action frln, h:1Jl 
time to recon ide I' himself, and partd
 to 
smother his unworthy suspicions. :For had he 
e\"er had cau::oe to doubt of his pure white 
inllie 
before? Ke\"er, ne\"er! And he mu t not 
doubt of her now. Still that cigar, that fiery 
blush-that blush not of joy only, but of C JJhU- 
:,ion. .What could she be concealing from him? 
Dear ehild! what could she have to conceal? 
X eed he be a jealous fool because Mi"s '\"harton 
\\ as odious? Still that cigar! 
At this point of his meditation, Miss" harton I 
reappeared, loolin
 perfectly cool, and ami. ble 
and easy-almost too easy to be natural; for 
there was a touch of swagger in her manner that 
was far from l repossessing. Jack 'Y y\"'iIl eyed her 
askancc, an wondered in his own mind how his 
s" eet little 
Iinnie had e\"er come to call her 
friend. She was a middlc-sized, broad-built 
figure of a woman. wit h sqaare shoulders, tht 
chest, long arms, and a singular ungainline s of 
gait. She had a ccrtain power of countenance 
which redeemed her irregularity of feature. JILl 
eyes were handsome, hcr brow \Vas "ide, her 
hair was beautiful and abundant. At the lower 
section of her 
i
age no one voluntarily glanced 
t \\ i.ce, unless 
e '
ere a student of physio p l1(\.J1Y. 
which Jack n YVIlI \\ as not. He 100J...ea at her 
and did not like her, but he could not have 
given any valid reason ,chy, except that he did 
not like ugly women, and she was the u!!lit t he 
had e\"er seen. But u!?ly or not, 
liss \ \ har 011 
was clever, and she knew it. She had more 
humour and originality than commonly fall to 
the lot of women; and she prided herself on the 
posse"
ion of that \"crbal wit which cons; .5 in 
utter unserupulousne s of speech, and whets 
itself with equal 
usto on the foibles of fri nd 
or foc. She" as in!!rained with small \&mities, 
and s,,"athed about "ith elaborate affechtions; 
but she had that force of character which ascrimi- 
lates such \"anities and affectations until the-v 
seem more like the genuine out-come of n
- 
ture than the a..sumption of art. Indeed. Ílle 
shrewdest obserrer would have been hard put t ) 
it, to S'l'\" where in :Miss \\lmrton nature edei 
and art be
an. 
She was popubr in societv rather tban other- 
wise, for thou
h utterly Ìntolerant of foo: , 



44 [February 20, 18G4.] 


[Conducted ty 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


she had great tact, and kncw as \fell how to 
ir.gr
tiate herself ",here she had an object in 
,iew as how to avoid offence on all occasions. 
She ,,"as not so much masculine as she ,,"as 
mannish. She rode to hounds, and talked stable 
with not more blunders than are inevitable to a 
",oman who culti,'ates that sort of lore 011 stray 
numbers of the Field, and is but part owner of 
one third-rate haek; she sang a good second to 
anybody's song, took a hand at whist or at 100, 
and could always cap a good story \fith a better. 
Her father had ruined a fair estate on the 
turf, and she now lived with a broken-dmm 
brother of similar tastes, on an encumhered 
remnant of it, about five-and-twent.v miles from 
Skelton Place. 1Vhen the elder .Wharton died, 
lle besought Squire Conyers, his life-long fricnd, 
to be kind to his motherless daughter; anà 
though Lady 'Vallace disliked her from the first 
as a companion for :Minnie, the squire kept his 
promise by annually inviting her to join them, in 
their sea-side trip to Scarborough, ,rbitby, or 
Filey, as the case might be. There was a 
difference of six. years between the girls' ages, 
but they struck up a friendly alliance by the 
rule of contraries, to which both had continued 
outwardly staunch do\\n to the present day, 
when Miss ",,-barton was four-and-twenty, and 
:Minnie Conyers ,,"as just eighteen. 
This was 
1iss ,rharton's first visit to Skelton 
Place, but she was skilfullJ manæuvring that it 
should 110t be her last, and the chances were ten 
to one that she would carrv her point. She had 
won over Lady 1r allace nõt only to forgive her 
eccentricities, but almost to admire them, and 
the squire was quite at her feet. He protested 
that she had had the narrowest eseape in the 
world of being a ,-ery handsome woman, and 
that as it was, when she warmed up after dinner 
or by can(lleli
ht, she put all merely pretty, 
puling faces quite out of countenance-in which 
the squire was perfectly just. 
:ThIinnie did not present herself in the drawing- 
room until some time after her friend, and as 
the squire and tea came in simultaneously with 
her, Jack 1V yvill llad nothing to do but to be 
bimself arrain as far as he could, and take his 
part in tfte general conversation. He did not 
aehie\e perfect success in either effort, for he 
,,"as very ill-at-ease, and :\Iinnie wore a vex.ed, 
puzzled air of bewilderment such as he had 
never seen in her before. The good squire was, 
happily, obtuse; he congratulated Jack on his 
prompt return from town
 with one or two sly al- 
lusions which brought the rosy-red into :Minnie's 
face; he talked about coming events on the turf, 
II and the four-year-old he \fas going to enter for 
I the October Meeting at York; then asked "hat 
the ",-orId of London was doing, all in his round- 
I about, after.dinner ",-ay, until ten o'clock struck 
by the timepiece ovcr the chimney, and Jaek 
rose to depart. 
II It ",-as his custom to lcm"e the house by the 
consenatory, whence he could strike across the 
garden and the park in a direct line towards his 
0" n home; and it had bcen :Minnie's duty and 
II privilege of late to go with him, and let him out 


at the glass door opening on the terrace, She 
looked rather shy of her office to-night, but as 
therc was kindness and invitation in his over- 
cast face she did not hold back, and tlley passed 
silently side by side between the banks of 
fragrance, neither caring to be the first to 
speak, until just at the last Minnie laid an im- 
petuous hand on his ann, and whispered, tear- 
fully, "Jack, you are angry with me, and you 
don't tell me "hy." 
"I am not angry with you, Minnie, but I don't 
like your mannish friend," said he. 
"Hush, Jack, she will hear you!" .!AId, 
half laughing, half alarmed, she put up a hasty 
finger to close his indiscreet lips. 
" I don't care if she does," was the reckless 
response. 
" But you must care for grieving me. She 
has a thousand oddities, but ;he has a thousand 
good points as well. If you knew her better, 
you would say so. Ask papa, and he ,,-ill tell 
you the same. Aunt :Mary is beginning to like 
her too, and it is not everybody Aunt Mary 
likes." (Aunt :Mary was Lady 1Vallace.) "She 
complains that somebody is always trying to 
improve her figure, or her manners, or her 
morals. But I am undcr a vow not to meddle 
"ith any of them, and for my sake you mU3t 
take her as she is, and be gracious, Jack. She 
is quite disposed to like YOll." 
"I'm much obliged to her, but I don't think 
I shall fraternise with her. How long does she 
remain here ?" 
Minnie gave him to understand that she was to 
remain over the wedding. The arrangement did 
not please him, though he had nothing reason- 
able to mge against it; it was only natural 
:Minnie should wish to keep her friend with her, 
and his sudden prejudice rested on such frivolous 
grounds he was ashamed to mention it. He did 
not mention it, but, standing with his darling 
beside him in the moonlight, be forgot all about 
it for a minute or two, and then went his way 
home as gaily as he had come; while Minnie, 
lingering amongst the flowers, felt rejoicingly 
that the light cloud which had come between 
them ,ras gone. 


Jack W yvill was not the man to try back on 
an old doubt without strong provocation when 
he had once thrust it away from bis mind; and 
the next morning he put a jeweller's case, which 
he had brought from town, into his pocket, and 
set off to"ards Skelton Place again, just at that 
hour when, according to previous experience, he 
was most certain of finding l\Iinnie disengaged 
and alonc. He took the same direction as on 
the night before, but he had not quitted the 
bounds of his own fields when he was met by 
his steward, who detained him with prosy busi- 
ness-conversation, and even" alked him round 
half a mile out of his way, to a certain farm- 
stead where improvements and repairs were 
going on; so that, instead of entering the" ood 
by the gate, lie had to climb the fence at an. 
other part, and make a short cut through what 
was called the Lower Copse. rfhe undergrowth 



4 
 I 


Charle. Dicken..] 


ALL TIlE YEAn I:OUXD. 


[ "bn- Ty 


was very thick hereabouts, bu'" 'It one spot therf' 
was a e
earin
, in the midst of which s+')od an 
old ph '\s'mt-house, built of bou
hs and thatehd 
with reed..., ,vhich had not been used for a 
 car 
or two, and 
as fast falling into unsi
htly ruin, 
The place, altogether, '"as lonely and unattrac- 
tive, without sunshine and \, it hout flowers, and 
Jack W v,'ill \\ as, therefore, no little surprised 
when fròm the distance he saw .Minnie Conyers 
and her friend just vanishing" ithin the hut. 
They did not percei,'e him, and for a moment 
he halted, too much startled to analyse his emo- 
tions; but even while he halted, he saw )Iinnie 
issue forth ag-ain, and peer cautiously about, as 
if watching for some one, or lookin"' out for 
spies; but her examination was ,cry Î>rief, and 
she retreated apparently satisfied" ithout dis- 
co....ering hpr lover, who, between fear, su"picion, 
and ra
e, hardly knew what he did. He drew 
ß{"U"f'r the pheasant-house, howe,'er, keeping in 
the r4 ar of it, untit, being within a fcw yards of 
the r:lg'ged spot, once more that fragrance of a 
capitar ci!jar, blended with t he sweet softness 
of the 
 1.y morning, assailcd his senses; and, 
bcfore he had time to rally from the shock of it, 
he heard :!IIiss W1mrton's voice observing, with 
unctuous deliberation, "There is no better ci
ar 
than the Lopez-none !" 
:So there fCO$ some one with them in the 
phea
ant-house! It was an appointment, and 

Iinnie was scout! He did not suspect her, but 
he could have strnn
led )liss Wharton, that his 
sweet, 
uileless darling should he tainted even 
hv the knowledge of her clandestine affairs! He 
,,'ould not snrpnse their secret, whate,'er it might 
be, but gave hImself a vigorous !>hake and tramped 
on, heedless whether he was he'lrd or not; and 
probably he was heard, and even seen through 
the gaps of the rotten boughs, for whcn he gained 
the open g'l'ound, on the edge of the wood, there 
was 
[inllle, arm in arm with her friend, saunter- 
ing leisurely towards him, and lookiu p as inno- 
cent as if nothing wrong had happened since the 
Flood! 
But there was storm in his face that he could 
not hide, and )linnie's heart sank. as she rcad the 
unmistakable signs of it. He had always been 
so good to her, so truly tender and lo\"in
, that 
the reappearance of last night's gloom in this 
morninq's sudden displeasure frightened her, she 
hardly knew why. She dreaded explanations 
and scenes at all times; there was a lar
e mea- 
sure of feminine unreasonablcness and cowardice 
in her composition; and instead of maling an 
opportunity for him to tell her what was on his 
mind, she detained )Iiss Wharton as a screen 
until they met the squire, who carried Jack off 
to the stables, sorely against his will, to assist 
at a consultation over the four-vear-old, "hich 
was e
pected to do such wonderful thiD
s, and 
I bring such glory to the Skelton stud at the ne
t 
I York )Ieeting. But Jack was not his own man 
at all, and he owy earned himself the trainer's 
contempt by his vague remarks, while he con- 
siderably lowered the squire's jubilation. 
I He "as Hperieneing a fedin"' of intense mor- 
II tification that :Minnie, who had hitherto never 



 u....ht to di"
emble her simplc 11.<>n 'Ire in I is 
S')f'l'-+Y, "Ihould no,y, "it hill a few da"{"
 of their 'I 
marr' NÞ, pC"' iti, cly avoid him. U ):'m not a 
ck 
r lellO\t', I know I'm not," thou
ht I'Þ, 
humbly, " but I'll be shot if that friend of hus, 
who is 50 \\ ise and" itty, and desperately sly, 
shall come bet" een us, maling mischief!" And 
thus thinking, he answered tbe squire twice or 
thrice at cross-purposes, until the Impetuous old 

entleman asked what the devil ailed him tbat I 
l1e was so short. U Had Minnie and he got 
wron
 :" 
" X 0, we have not got wrong, but there is no 
tellin!j what Wf" may do if that 
Iiss Wharton is 
for ever in the wav," replied Jack, blurting out 
his \\ rath in one aWngry gust. U I don't like her 
for 
Iinnie's friend, and I'll be han
cd if I'll have 
her at Heathside as my wife's friend!" The 
squire reddened; he saw the young man's blood 
wa3 up, and his own warmed too; he felt that 
Jack mcant what he said, and that he had, or 
believed himself to have, ncellent grounds for 
it; but for a few days past there had been some 
indistinct sentiments hovering sheepishly about 
the old 
entleman's fancy that made this fiery 
speech anyt hing but easy or pleasant to digest. 
He stammered something about Miss "'harton's 
being his guest, and then went on to S1.y, in a 
tone of almost eager defence: 
U She is a good fellow is Harry 1rhart<..n, 
Jack; not $tceetly fi mÌ1lÍne and th'\t sort of 
thing', but :i downright good fellow, and a bit of 
capital company! I'll tell you ,vhat-if she 
had been old R'\lph's son, instead of that ne'er- 
do-weel of a Tom, she would have set the estate 
on its legs again. Such a headpiece as hers is 
lost on a woman's shouldcrs. Hang it, Jack, 
\\ hat have you got to say against her? Lady 
Wallace didn't lIke her once, but even she is 
coming round; and I call 
Ia.ry one of the most 
prejudiced "omen aIi,'e." 
Jack 'Vy' ill did not consider that he had any 
right to mention such suspicions as rose merely 
out of ci!!ar-smoke; if 'liss Wharton had her 
secret.., she might keep them for him; but 
:Minllie's quiet heart and conscience should not be 
marred and sullied by being made the confi- 
dential keepcr of them; he, therefore, simply 
reiterated, III a do
ged manner, what he li'\d 
said before; and then abruptly changed the 
subject. The squire felt huffed for a moment; 
but, after an inarticulate growl or two, he fol- 
lowed the irritated lover's lead, and the hazard- 
ous topic of difference was abandoned. Soon 
after they parted company by mutual consent; 
the squire wcnt to look after his woodmen fdl- 
ing timber, and Jack turncd his steps to" ar
s 
the house, where he s'\t for nearly an bour, waIt- 
ing and hoping for Minnie's :lppearallce. L'\dy 
" all ace, who was detained from writing her daily 
dues of letters to entertain him, very naturally 
wished him awav, and at last shc propo"ed 
sending a messenger in quest of Minnie-a hint 
to depart which he could not but accept. 
U 'f e shall see yOU at dinner this erenin
, 
of coursc:" added she, with a little J..indly com. 
punction, as he was 011 the point of going. lie 



II 46 [F.brn,ry2
 11364.] ALL TIlE YEAR l!ûUND. [condu'''
 1 
said, " Yes; he supposed so," and then reluct_ j entrance, directed his steps t01Vards the raised 
antly took himself off; the lovely pearls that walk on the south front, "here he e
pected to 
he had brought from town to present to his find :Miss 'Yharton and :Minnie, debating in his 
Minuie, reposing forgotten in their case in the own mil1d by what ing-enious devices hè should 
depths of his pocket. get his darling to himself, and banish her ob- 
3Ieamvhile .Minnie and hel' friend were again noxious friend. 
lounging lazily about the Lower Copse, '''}Jither 
they had retired "hen the squire carried off 
Jaek to the stables. Miss ""harton was in a 
mood of serene satisfaction and enjoyment, 
but )Iinnie was miserably uneasy. She had 
110t her companion's resources for making her- 
self apathetically comfortable under ad,'erse 
circumstances; and she was afraid lest, having 
avoided Jack, he should return the compli. 
ment, and lea\'e without seeing her again. 
This dread seized on her so strongly by-and-by, 
that she said," Do you mind going in-doors 
now, Harry?" She had a hope that she might 
yet be in time to intercept him, by taking the 
path through the upper wood to the house; but 
she did not like to say so precisely, even to her 
familiar friend. 
" I don't mind going in-doors if you are tired, 
though it is pleasanter here. I should like One 
more turn round by the pbeasant-bouse, if you 
are not in a fuss. TfIJat have you to do P" said 
Mis') "Wharton, indifferently. 
)IimJÏe was in the habit of yielding to her 
caprices, and she replied now that she had no- 
thing particular to do; so the one turn more round 
by the pheasant-house resulted in a dozen turns, 
and when the servants' <pnner-bell rang, at one 
o'clock, they were still in the copse, and Jack 
.W yvill was plodding his weary way home, unenli- 
vened by any thoughts but angry thoughts against 
:Minnie's friend, to whose evil influence he attri- 
buted his darling's incomprehensible behaviour. 
Until )Iiss 'Wharton appeared on the scene there 
had never been word, or look, or fancy to sow a 
doubt between them, and now he felt that they 
were balancing dangerously on the brink of a 
serious misunderstanding. But it should not 
come to a quarrel if it lay in his po" er to hinder 
it. He would stand on no foolish ceremony; 
he would have it out with Minnie that night, let 
w}Jat would come of the explanation; and in 
this wise, firm, substantial resolve he set off to 
Skelton Place in the evening, arriving only just 
in time to 
ive her his arm in to dinner. She 
looked shyly bright, and happily penitent when 
he met her with his natural air and manner, but 
this was no time for any but general chat, and 
the difficult moment was of necessity delayed. 
lIIr. 'Vanen, Squire Conyers's lawyer, made 
a sixth at table that day, and in his company 
Jack Wyvill left the old gentleman, after a 
couple of glasses of wine, to seek the society of 
the ladies in tbe drawing-room. But when he 
presented himself, he found Lady Wallace alone; 
ând she told him, sleepily, that the young people 
had availed themselves of the pleasant half-hour 
that remained before sunset to take a stroll on 
the terrace, where he had better join them. He 
waited for no second hint, but immediately 
snatched his wide-awake from the stand ill the 
hall, and, leaving the house by the principal 


II 


'Yhen Jack "-.Fill ste
ped out upon the 
terrace, it was deserted. The vases of scarlet 
geraniums stood along it at equal distances from 
end to eud, but nothing more interesting was 
visible. He wall-.ed down into the flo\\er-garden 
and through the rosery, but nobody" as there. 
Thence he climbed to the 'Yilderness, a hilly 
ornamental shrubbery of se'"eral acres in the 
rear of the house, where he paced to and fro 
for ever so long, whistling a familiar air, not as 
a signal exactly, but that if .Minnie "-ere here she 
might be made aware he was here too, and seek- 
ing her. By this time the sun had disappeared, 
and twilight ""as creeping on. He returned to 
the terrace, pausing to look in at the conser- 
vatory as he passed; but they had not hidden 
themselves there. They were not in the house, I' 
nor about the house, nor, as far as eye could see, 
were they wandering in the glades of the park; ) 
they must, therefore, lwxe betaken themselves 
to the wood or to the copse again! 
Jack felt almost sick with vexation and im- 
patience. It was clear to him that )1 iss 
'Wharton had private affairs, and that :Minnie 
lent herself to the furtherance of them. He 
was not inclined to play the spy on Miss 
Wharton, but he was strongly disposed to nct 
watch-dog to his Minnie, and the difficulty of 
separating the one proceeding from the other 
was very embarrassing. Mter a brief term of 
consideration, he judged it expedient to await 
the reappearance of the missing pair, and re- 
turned to Lady Wallace in the drawing-room. 
"Have you not found them P" asked she, 
surprised to see him come back so quickly. He 
replied that they were not anywhere in the 
gardens or pleasure-grounds through ,,'bich he 
had walked. " .Miss 1Vharton is fond of wan. 
dering further afield than I like; I must remind 
Minnie llot to leave the terrace of an evening'," 
added her Auut Mary. She perceived that Jack 
was displeased, and allowed to herself that he , 
had son:e cause to show why; but, with the 
native kindliness of her disposition, she endea- 
voured to make a little light conversation to I 
divert his mind from brooding on it, and, pro- 
bably, magnifying it. She did not meet with I 
the success sne deserved; Jack grew more and 
more restless and disquieted every minute of 
Minnie's absence, and at length, unable to bear it I 
in patience any longer, he strayed into the Con- 
servatory, and marched to and fro, watching and II 
waiting in a mood of gathering wrath. 
Presently the squire and lIfr. .Warrell entered 
the drawing-room, when the squire immediately 
asked, "Where are the girls and 1fyvill-in the I 
garden P" Lady \f albce's calm reply was 
grounded upon Jack's information, and, after 
hearing it, the old gentleman came into the con- I 
servatòry, and with a good-humoured wag of his 



Cl ' I ,- nL] 


ALL THE YE \It nOUXD. 


l d at tbc 8 ;rieved 10Ter, opened t}'e!!l s 
dúor and lúulcú up aud down the terrace. .. \ ou 
B · 8 goud seeker but a b.1d finder, Jack; thl.Y 
at ' not in sight, therefore th..y mu
t bc ill the 
Wilderness," said he. 
e< Or in the wood or the Lo\ er C<.-pse," re- 
s,)(\nded J nek, shortly. 
" III the wood or the Lower Copse! " hat 

hould thcy do there at dusk, or \\ hat should 
they do in the Lower Copse at all:" The squire 
was evidently annoyed at the sU
l'I'estion; he 
looked out on thc tcrlace again, 0.118 thcn went 
back into the drawing-room alld ran
 the bell. 
'Ihe ancient butler ans\\cred it. e< Brim; tca, 
m d send Joliffe to seek the young ladies. 
Iost 
likely Hley arc in the gardens or the 1\ïlùerness," 
4qaid his master. 
Jack heard the order and the directions, but 
JII did not interfere. The sen'aut ::.aid, "Yes, 
5:1'," \\ ith perfcetrespect of tone and composurc 
of feature, but as soon as he was on thc other 
side of thc dm\\ ing-room door his exprc::.sion 
cLanged, and he muttered sarcastically to him- 
self, "She's a queer sort of youn q \\ oman is 
th.it )Iiss '''harton. I'll go am! serk 'em 
myself; I'll not send Joliffc. IIe has a tongue 
a5 lon
 as to-day and to-morrow, and \\ould be 
for telling if hc found out her goings on. I 
\\ onder, for my part, how Miss Minnie can abide 
hi r." _\.nd thc butler, who had known Squire 
CJl1ycr
's daughter ever since she was born, 
and estecmed her the best and kindest as \\ ell 
as the most beautiful of young ladies, \\ ent 
stealthily out at the front door, and, as Jack 
Wp"ill, watching from thc conser\atory, saw, 
struck across the lawn and tLe park in a direct 
IiI'" to\\ards the Louer Copse. WhateHr lIiss 
" harton's clandestine affairs, they wcre already 
e\-idently known in the sermnts' hall. 
Jack sat do\\ n in a mood of intense disgust 
and mortification. How lon
 he sat he neVEr 
knew, but it seemed hours hctore he heard swift 
f otstcps passing along the gravelled walk, and 
th
n 
Iiss Wharton saying, with sUPEres
ed 
,chemence, U If you tell him, Minnie, I'll never 
forgive you? What is it to him? .J1ý business 
is not your business. You arc not half so kind 
to me as 
 ou were once." '.1.'0 whieh :Minnie re- 
pFed in as pettish a tone as shc could assume: 
.. I am not going to tell him; you need not be 
afraid; but 1 will not steal off to the Copse any 
more \\ hen Aunt lfary bclie.es we are in the 
g1rden. You can go alolle if you like, but I 
bate hide-and-seek "ork; and I don't know 
what Bolton must think." 
U That wooden-faced old butler? OJ), he will 
110t be SO impertinent as to think at all," replied 

li.ss Wharton; amI with these words she ran 
up the steps, Minnie following closc behind, and 

o they entered the conservatory. They seemed 
to espy Jack WyvillsÍ1uultaneously, and Minnie's 
blush" as painful; even Miss "harton did not 
quite succeed in keeping her countenance, but 
she dissembled her confusion to thc best of her 
power, and obsencd that it was much pleasanter 
out in the open air tllan in this atmospLcre 
loaded "it!! the heavy perfumes of green-house 


{Frbrary ft , 1 


47 


pi' 
. J ck's rf ponse 'Was utterly ineo L rent; 
be wa3 110 mu.ch for h
r cwlne s. lie felt 
ga
le
 to his \ ('ry soul, and he b "rayed it. 

llll1l1e stood for a second or two uneerta.;n '\11d 
wretched; but as he said nothi
, and made no 
effort to detain her, she passed foruard to the 
drawing-room, where bhe had to encounter the 
questions and admonitions of her f.1ther. 
U Look at the timepiece, 
Iinnie; twenty 
minutes past nine! ""here ha\ e you been? 
Did you see JoliJfc P" asL.ed he, hastily. 
)Iinuie hesitated, stammered, looked almost 
fri!.;'htcned; but Miss Wharton came to the 
rescue, and took the difficulty of judicious reply 
out of her mouth. She ans\\ ercd with a ready 
wit and a skilful evasi\"encss, but \\ hile she was 
in the midst of ber inventive exercisc, Jaek 
W)\ill followed into the dra\\ing-room with a 
\ isage as black as a thunder-cloud, which did 
not escape the squirc's observations. His 
straightforward shrewdness detected something 
amiss when his open-hesrted :Minnie could not 
give him a J)bin answer to a plain question, but 
must stand by and let some one else be ber 
spokeswoman; and at that moment the fluent 
)Ijss "Wharton revolted him almost as much as 
she 1'e\ olted )Iinnie's lovcr. 
"There is underhand bu
iness 
oinß on, and 
I'll not Lavc it: that is "bat Jack "yvill has 
got au inklin!.;' of," thought he. But he saw 
tears in :Minnie's eyes, and said no more for the 
prc::>cnt, tbough it was all o.\\ful staggering shock 
to him "hen he drew doun her s\\cet face to 
his by one of her sunny bright curls, and instead 
of the flowery perfume which ordinarily scented 
her golden hair, he detected the odour of smoke 
-t he unmistakable, undeniable fragrance of to- 
bacco ! 
During- tea the squire stood on the rug', his 
back to the fire, his cup in his hand, and his 
obsen ations travelling from one face to another 
of the disunited party. l\Iiss Wharton would 
suffer no awkward pauses in the conversation, 
and talked incessantly, 
r. 'YaITen supporting 
hcr, until the squirc gave Jack Wyvill a hint to 
accompany him to the library, "hen she glanced 
anxiously at Mllinie's dolorous countenance, and 
wondered what was about to happen. The lawyer 
being now left alone to amuse the ladies, exerted 
himself to the bcst of his ability, but :Miss Whar. 
ton presently retired to taLe counsel" ithin her. 
self. "I am afraid somebody suspects," thonght 
she, with genuine but well-concealed alarm. "It 
is a frightful bore to be amongst such orderly, 
proper people, and there is another week of it 
to come! I'll write to TOlD to-morrow, and 
order him to reeal me; he can say he h3S the 
croup or somethin p ' and that he wants me to 
nurse wm. I wowel rather Ih-c \\ith poor Tom 
than li\"e here, strangled with proprieties and 
conventionalities. Jealous, clod-hopping noodle 
that Jack 1Vyvill is; but Minnie is not overbur. 
dened with wisdom herself, so they will be 
equallv mated. She is like a scared rnbbit- 
'Oh, lIarry this!' 'Oh, Harry that!' as if the 
'fery trees had eyes, :md the birds of t
e 
 
could Eterally carry thc matter! Thc sqwro IS 



48 


ALL THE YE
\.R ROUND. 


[February 20,1864.] 


the best of the bunch, but even he is full of old- 
fashioned notions. I almost wish I had never 
come! People are 50 big-oted; there is Lady 
''" aU ace sniffing and snuffing, and peeping and 
prying, as if there were a fox in the room! 1\ 0 
-I'll be off! 1 thought it would be pleasant, 
and safe, and easy, to make oneself happy in 
one's own way here; but Minnie is always in a 
fidget, and that makes the risk too great. ' So 
jeu nc vaut pas la chandellc' at Skelton Place!" 
,rhile :MISS 1rbarton was working round to 
this conclusion in the drawing-room, the squire 
and Jack were holding a private talk in the 
library, Jack being by no means reluctant to 
unbosom himself of his wrongs, when he per- 
cei'Td that the squire was smitten with sus- 
picion too. But the subject was scarcely a 
pleasant one to open, and it was several minutes 
before either found courage to do more than 
hover abollt it. But at last, said the squire, 
" Jack, aU is not going quite smoothly betwixt 
you and Minnie, and that is awkward, seeing what 
is impending over next Tuesday. 
Iy girl is a 
good girl, and I am sure she loves you-" 
"God bless her, sir, I know shc does!" in- 
terrupted Jack, eagerly. "I have not a doubt 
of Minnie, but .Miss Wharton is making a tool of 
her to promote some mysterious affairs of her 
own, and I'll not stand it. This is the second 
evening that I have not had a chance of a word 
with my darling, and this morning she fairly ran 
away from me under her friend's wing. I want 
to know what it all means, this lurking about 
aftcr dark, and in that dreary Lower Copse where 
I saw them this morning. If Miss -Wharton 
has a lover under the rose, I'll not let her use 
my innocent .Minnie for a fence. You must speak 
about it, squire, or I shall." 
"lOU think there is a 10\'er in the case, do 
you? and I have my reasons for thinking so, 
too; though why Miss -Wharton should make a 
secrct of it, unless it be from a woman's taste 
for romantic mysteries, I am at a loss to Con- 
jecture. If she chose to marry my rough-rider 
or her brother's groom, Tom is not the man to 
object-and I'm sure I'm not. :My duties as 
her O'uardian ended three years since, but she 
had taken the reins of govcrnment into her hands 
long before that. I do not like to address her, 
but I'll have in Minnie-perhaps you ha.d better 
leave us for fi,'e minutes, Jack. Go mto the 
conservatory, and when I have had my say I 
will send her to you." 
There was a second entrance into the green- 
house throuO'h the library, and by this door Jack 
'Y yvill vanis'bed as 
Iinnie came slowly and shyly, 
summoned by Bolton, to her father's presence. 
Thc tender-hearted lover hoped and prayed the 
squire would deal gently with his darling, as 
he hurried out of sight amongst th,e flowel:s; 
but he had a verv short interval allowed hU11 
either to think 01' to wish; for not a minute 


had elapsed since his retiremcnt whcn :llinnie 
rushed out to seek him, her cheeks a-blaze, her 
sweet eyes glistening through thick tears. Her 
father had addressed her wit h some little sar- 
casm, which shc had taken in earnest, and in- 
stead of stayin q to answer l1Ím she carried her 
defe
ce to heaa-quarters at once, indignantly 
sobbll1g out reproaches to Jack that be could 
imagine she went with her friend to meet any- 
body in the wood! 
It Was impossible to resist the candour of 
those pleading eyes, and it was equally impossible 
to resist the temptation of taking his darlinO"s 
bonny face betw.een his two hands, as he said, 
" If you met nobody in the wood, then, ha"e you 
taken to smolcing !" 
Minnie's cJes cleared, and she broke into a 
merry laugh; H Oh! it is Harry's cigars," whis- 
pered she. 
"Harry's cigars, imleed!" stammered Jack. 
"Why does she not put on the-hang it, 
Minnie, they might have lost JOU a husband, 
and me the dearest little sweetheart in Christen- 
dom !" 
"Don't be a goose, Jack-let me go!" re- 
sponded Minnic; and at that moment 
1iss 
1Vharton appeared coming towards them from 
the further end of the conservatory. 
"It is moonlight on thc terrace; let us go 
and smoke a cigar, my friend," said Jack, address- 
ing hcr, while the sq1lire looked out from the 
library door aU a-grin and delighted. 
:Miss 'Vharton crimsoned. "It is too bad, 
Minnie; you promised you would not tell," began 
she; but Minnie interrupted her with lively de- 
fiance. 
"I won't be scolded, Harry; your horrid, 
selfish cigars have nearly made Jack quarrel 
with me," exclaimed she; "but, now that he 
knows, yon can enjoy your little pleasures in 
peace and in public! There is nothing wicked 
in smokinO' a ciO'ar-" 
But Mi
nie l
ad said enough, and more than 
enough. Miss 1Vharton had turned aWRY in 
high dudgeon, and disappeared for the rest of 
the evening, and the next day, in spite of en. 
treaties and almost of tears, she "ent a\\'ay 
home. The day after :Minnie's wedding she re- 
ceived, not cards or bride-cake, but a box of 
Lopez cigars. 


XEW WORK BY MR. DICKEXS, 
In 
Ionthly Parts, uniform with the Original I:ditions of 
.. Pickwick," .. Copperfield," &c. 
In ::IIA Y '\'I'ill be published, PART I., price Is., of 
A NEW WORK BY CHARLES DICKENS 
IX TWEXTY MONTHLY PARTS. 
London: CH..\P
LUJ and HALL, 193, Piccadilly. 


Now ready, bound in cloth, price 5s. Cd., 
THE TE
TH VOLUnIE. 


The Right of Trcl1ls1atiJ/g .Articles from ALL THE YEAR Rom\'D is 1'escrved by the Allthors. 


PubHshed at the Office. Xo. 
6. ""e"" ':.'1 ...]".......... StrnnfL Pnnt..' ,," r-. ". JJITl
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"THE STOP.Y OF OCr. LIVES FlWM IF.U: TO YEAI:."-SUAKEST'EABE. 


I [ 


ALL TIlE YE1\ll I{ü UND. 


A "
EEKLY JOURNAL. 
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
\\" I T II W II I C II I S I 
 COR r 0 P. ATE D II 0 L S E II 0 L D "0 I: D S. 


X o . 
::;3.] 


[!J 1UU 2d. 


S.\TUltD,AY. FEBHUARY 27. lS(j4. 


QUITE AlüXE. 


--+- 


Bool-.. TilE FIRST: CIlILDilOOD. 
CHAfTER Y. TilE BUNXICASTLES IX COUNCIL. 
Tul:, back f. arlour at Uhododendron Tlou
n 
dedicated to t Ie nocturl131 meal spolen of in the 
prer'cding c1l3pter, was a ,cry moderatelY-'5ized 
apart ment. Indeed, if an ohserver of its dimen- 
sIons 113d hazarded an opinion that there "asn't 
room to swin
 a cat in It, the remarl, althou
h 
coarse (and, as such, naturally intolerable in 
an establishment so genteel as Hhododcndron 
House), would not havc fallen very far short of 
the truth. This is intended to bc a candid 
history; so 1 will at oner' confess that the back 
parlour was-well, what shall ] say?-poJ..y. 
A pair of foldin
-doors took up very nearly one 
of its sides, and these g.\Ve admittancr to the 
front parlour, or drawing-room, or state saloon, 
"hich \\ as f urnishcd in a st) Ie of classic but 
fri
id splendour, and where parents, guardians, 
and other visitors, to whom the Bunnyeastles 
de
ired to show ceremonial honour, were rc- 
ceived. No pupil dared to enter that sacred 
apartment witbout permission. :Many. indeed, 
nc\ cr saw it from the day when they arrived at 
school, and "ere re
aled with the sacrificial calc 
and \\ ine (both of British manufacture), to the 
day \\ hen their fricnds camc to fetch them away. 
Evcn the llunnyeastles '....ere chary about ill- 
truding on thcir 8ala }{e
ia, save on festive or 
solcmn occasions. The back parlour was essen- 
tially their leeping and sitting chambcr-their 
bo\\ er aud their home. 
The late 
lr. llunnJeastle's portrait hung on 
onr sidc of thc modest pier-glass on the mantel, 
nm\ an elli!!y-a 'fer) ,ile one-in crayons, of 
Mr
. l
unn) castle, fianled it, O l Jro
lte. was 
a small cottage piano; and you wil see, by-and- 
1)\, that Uhododendron House was famous for 
ii
 spceimens of modern impro\.cments on the 
harpsichord aud the spillet. 'I'he window-cur- 
tains \\ rre of a dull decorous morcen; the 
carpets of a fadC'd crimson. The table had a 
cloth in imitation Deedleworl, like a schoolgirl's 
sampler ofun\\onted size tak.cn out of its fr.lnlf'. 
The chairs \\ erc of \\ ell-\\ om gl"f'. n leather. In 
a reeess \\ ere threc handsome mahncrany desls 
nn.d .threr roc;e\\ood w?rkboxes, f( pe
ti\ èly per- 
talllmg to the three Sl'iters Hunn
 castle. .Mrs. 
.H.'s 'ireat hl,tcl lc"thet \\ riting-e...sc, where she 


l('pt her school register, and her account.boûks, 
and her valuables, had an occasion ,1 table to it- 
srlf; and when J have added to the pictorial 
embellishments of the room, an agrer'ihl' al- 
though 
ol1\('what faded engraving of I'har,koh's 
Daughter finding the Infant 1h,ses in the Bull- 
rushe
, and when I have remarked that on e.lch 
sidc of tllP windo\\ hung a cage containin
 a 
eanarv, both of which \\ ere unceasingly \\ateh, d 
by a grey cat of sly and jcsuitical mien, I may 
be ab
olved from further performance of my 
fa\ ouritc but unpopular part of the broker's 
man. 
It "as the same summer e\"Cuin -th c\ en- 
in
 of thc dav of the flo\\er-show at CII1
"JeJ.., 
and of Griffin Blunt's rendez\ ous with the I )I-\s- 
terer's wife at thc sign of the Goat. Thl" lOUI' 
was half-pa.t nine, and the Bunllyeastl \\ ere 
sitting do\\ n to supper. !)epper, th
 hiaid, a 
demure person far gone into spinst('rhol,d, 
,It t('nded upon them. 'I'hl' 
Ii
s ]junnvc_tles 
had a decided objection to "bits of girl..," aJ 
they \\cre accustomed to eall all female domes- 
tics under fi\e-and-twf'nty. Every servant at 
Rhododendron House \\as expected to bl thirty 
years of age, or to wear caps and a coun- 
tenance corre
ponding to that period in life. 
Pepper's ehri:,tian name happcned to be).f 'irian; 
but she \\ as rigidly addre.-sed as" Peppcr," and 
e\cry servant In the house wcnt by h^r sur- 
name. It avert cd the possibility of f.l1l1iliarit
 
on the part of the young ladies. 
The supper \\as not a very sumptuous repast. 
It neVf'r \\as. Fruga1it
., as well as early nsill
 
and timeous retiring, formed the rulc at Uhodo- 
dendron House; and the 
IiQs Bunm c...stlc... \\ re 
small eaters. There \\ as the renm
nt of a lc
 of 
mutton, cold, 
ril1nin
 in a very ghastJy manner 
after its ordeal on the operating table at the one 
o'clock dinner. It was brou
ht up more. for 
ornament than for use, and unlc s some f!"lend 
dropped in-a \ ery small and select circlc of 
aequaintanee
 were so permitted to pay ,i
i at 
supper-time-it was rarely subjected to the f('. 
newed action of the lnife. Mi::-s Adel"j.:l 
HUDU\ ca
tlc supped on a small ba"in of 301'1'0\\- 
root. )Iiss Celia seldom partool of any refr.....h- 
ment more nouri
hing than a minute parallelo- 
[!ram of stale bread, and a diminuti\(. cubl. of 
cheese, "ith, perhaps, a slip or t" 0 of picl..lcd 
cabba;e; and )Iis'\ ß.lrbara habitually eout euted 
herself witb a sliee of bread-and-butter. let all 
of them" ouId have submitted to the se\"'erc& (,f 


=- 


2 
... 
. ) 


\OL. XI. 



[Conducted by 


50 ::'cbruary 27, lSG.f.] 


AI.L TIlE YEAU HOUXD. 


sacrifice<; rathd' than go "ithout that which 
they imagin, tively styled theiL' "supper." Only 
with :Mrs. Bunnyca5tlc did the meal assume the 
aspect of substantiality, and not of an airy and 
fanciful myth. She really supped. A nice bit 
of rumpsteak, or a boilcd collop, or an egg and 
a slice of ham, or :1 mutton-chop; something 
warm, and mcaty, amI comfortable, in fact, was 
always prepared for her. 
The beverage in" hich, and in the strictest 
moderation, the Miss Bunnycastles indulged 
during their unprctendin
 banquet, was the no 
more aristocratic one than table-ale of the very 
smalle:;t brewing. There could scarcely have 
been malt enough, in a whole cask of it, to have 
given a headache to the rat that ate the malt 
that lay in the House that Jack built. The 
ladies took two or three sips of the mawkish in- 
fusion of gyle and hops, \\hich had been more 
frightened than fermented by the yeast, and 
the ceremonial supper beer \vas over. But 
31rs. Bunnycastle was nightly provided a pint 
of the very best bottled stout. Nor-my pro. 
test of caudour being duly allowed-shall I 
be taking an unwarrantable liberty, I infer, in 
hinting that after supper the good old lady was 
accustomed to refect herself with a tumbler 
three parts full of a curious and generously 
smelling mixture, of which the component parts 
appeared to be hot water, lemon-peel, sugar, 
and juniper. 
On tbis particular flower-show e,-ening-, the 
Bunnycastle meal was of an extraordinary festi\ e 
character, and the conversation of an unusually 
animated nature. X ot that there was anything 
II more to eat than usual, but there ,,-as a guest. 
I, The 
Iidsummer holidays were just over, nearly 
I all the pupils had returned, and some new pupils 
II (all of them to learn extras) bad arrived. Hence 
lone reason for jubilation. Then, the quarterly 
! I bills had been paid by the majority of the 
i I parents and guardians, and with not more 
grumbling or reductions than usual. Another 
I I cause for joyfulness. Finally, Mr. Drax, the 
apothecary, bad looked in to supper, and the 
i BUllnycastles "ere aU ,.ery glad to see him. 

Ir. Drax was the very discreetest of apo- 
thecaries to be found in College-street, Clapham, 
in the county of Surrey, or anywhere else you 
like to name. The first evidence of his discre- 
tion "as in his keeping, by word and deed. his 
age a profound secret. He" as the oldest 
looking young man, or the youngest looking 
old man in the medical profession, or, for the 
matter of that, out of it. You might have 
fancied Drax to be just over sixteen, or just on 
the verge of sixty. I am not exaggerating. 
How are you to judge of a man's age, "hen 
upon his face not a vestigc of hirsute adornment 
is to be seen-when llis cheeks are as round 
and as smooth as apples (apples in wax, before 
the colouring matter is applied: for Mr. Drax 
\.aspale)-when he wears spectacles, alJd a wig, 
and a "lÜte tie? He had lost all his hair, lie 

aid, through a fever in his early youth, and was 
thus compelled to adopt an artificial coiffure. 
I , When occurred the penod of that early j outh ? 
II 


Two years.ago? Or 
lalf a ccntury ago? I must 
answ.er, ':l!l
 
ront
l
ne, "que sçais-je?" and 
the. mqUlsl.Ì1ve ladJ
s of Clapham, although 
theIr acq
allltance \\1fh the works of the quaint 
old essaYist may 113xe been but slender were 
constrained to give a similar reply to U;e oft- 
posed question. There were no actual wrinkles 
on the Draxian countenance, and the sliC>'ht 
puckerings under his eyes and about his mo
tb 
might have been the result of arduous stud v of 
his art; for, although I have hastily dubbed 
him apothecary, Parfitt Drax had passed bot.h 

Iall and College, and was a general practi- 
tioner. He wore spectacles, he 
aid, because 
he was short-si
hted; but nobody knew whether 
his imp
rfect. vision was inborn, or had grown 
upon IlLm wüh years. He was too discreet. 
to tell you. If hc were, indeed, a profound 
dissembler and young, his spectacles, his wig-, 
and his white tie, relieved him from that appear- 
ance of juvenility which, in discreet board- 
ing-schools, at Clapham and elsewllere, would 
have been a reproach and a stumbling-block 
to him. If lJe ".ere old, his make-up was 
perfect, and he, OL' his wi
-maker, or his tailor, 
had triumphed over Time, who ordinarily 
triumphs over all. The accomplished :Madame 
Rachel, and her more accomplished daughter, 
with all their Arabiau, Indo-Syriac, and Meso- 
potamian enamels and varnishes, could not have 
made Drax look more" beautiful for ever" than 
he looked of himself under the influence of im- 
perturbable discretion, scrupulous cleanliness, a 
neckerchief of white cambric, a pair of glasses, 
and a false head of hair. This head, thIS wig, 
was in itself an achievement. It was discreet, 
like its possessor. It showed no tell-tale partiuC>'. I I 
It was rigid with no unnaturally crisp curl
. 
It was a waving, flowing, reasonably tumbled, I 
human-looking scalp covering, of a discreet 
mouse colour, that might have begun to turn 
grey the next moment, or have preserved its 
natural hue until Drax \\'as gathered to his " 
fathenì. It was a wig for any age, or for no 
age at all. 
Drax, I say, wore a white tie; a strictly 
medical neckband, a consulting neckcloth, a 
family cravat-symmetrical without being formal 
-dégagé without being careless- tied ill a 
little square bow. Drax ""ore very large and stiff II I 
wristbands, in hue and con
istence belonging to 
the glacial period. They added to his discreet 
appearance. His right middle finger was adorned 
with a mourning ring containing a lady's hair, I 
and an indecipherable monogram. The hair was of I 
an ambiguous shade. It might have been that of 
bis deceased wife, or of his sister, or of his sweet- 
heart, or of his grandmother. It formed an addi- 
tional piece of artillery in his discretional battery. 
Mr. Drax \\as a frequent visitor at the school, 
not only in his professional capacity, but as a 
friend of the family. He \\as allowed to come I I 
as often as he liked, and to supper uninvited. J 
In fact, he " dropped in." But on this particu- 
lar evening his presence at the usual repast was 
not due to the immediate exercise of his 0" n I 
personal volition. The Bunnyeastles bad agreed, I 



ALL THE YEAR HOrXD. 


Charles Dicken!!.] 


early in the afternoon, that 'Ir. DI'lX llOUld he 
in\ itrd to supper, and in pursu,tIlcf" of the re ..J- 
luJ;on unanimou
ly arriVf.d at in solemn 
anllly 
council, 
1iss .Barhara llunn}c .,tIp lwl, III ht'r 
own exquisite (though somcwhat attenuated) 
I Italian hand, \\ ritten to him, U Dear Mr. Drax, 
p come to supper, as 8Mn after nine as e\ er 
you p0l8' I Cdn. n e want so ver,'I much to lee 
you, and conI it with you on a mo
t partie t!a 
and importf t mutter." The ori
inal um!pr. 
seorin
s art: 
liss Barbara .uunn
 castle's, and 
not mine, 
This miS. U", signed with the initials D. TI., 
and U Yllur er fait hfuBy," and sealed \\ ith Bar- 
bara's 0\\ n "ignet, bcarinfr the eh,U'luing enough 
little moU of" Vinna forget," \\
 duly de- 
I spatehcd <It tea-time hy the I',lge anù J..uife-boy 
(the only male crc,lture, \\ ith the \.cept ion ofthc 
gardener, who c,une once a weck for four hoUt s, 
forming p.ut of the .H.hododeudronian retinue) 
to )'lr. Drd'X.'s surgery or shop in College-street j 
and punctually at h.tlf-past niue, the discreet 
apothecary made his appe:trance in the little 
bad. p,lrlour. He had as small an appctite- 
or, in his discretion, chose to be as abstc01ious- 
as the Buunycastles thembeh es j and so, aftcr 
I he had consumed a very thin slice of thc grin- 
ning mutton, and sipped a \ery 
mall quan- 
tit
 of the table-ale, 
liss Adelaide Bunnycastle 
mixed him, with her own fair hands (ne\cr mind 
if the) \\ere slightly bony), a tum.bler f
ll of 
the \\ ann, colourless, but comfortll1!; mIxture 
\\ hich her mamma \\ as in the habit of imbibing 
after suppel'. Then the cOll\ersatiol1, which had 
hitherto been fitful aud desultory, became cou- 
centrated and engrossing. 
"Did you ever hear of such a strange ro- 
mantic nfl'air?" asked Miss AdelRide. 
"Only f,lIlcy," :Miss Celia continued, "no 
name giH'n-at least, no real one-no address, 
no references, but an offer of fifty guineds a 

car! pa)able in advance, for a little girl not 
yet four )ears of age." 
" .\.11(1 such a beàutiful spoken gentlcman is 
the darl onc," remarlcd Barbara. 
" AmI so beautifully spoken is the one with 
the bald bead," intcrposed Adelaide. 
"Uubbish, girls," quoth good :l\lrs. Bunny- 
castle. "The bald-headed one isn't a gentle- 
man at all. He's the dark one's man-servant." 
"He has lovely cyes," pleaded Barbara, c< and 
charmillg teeth, and an ang-cl smile." 
" He \"ears a diamond rmg as big as a four- 
penny-piccr," said the practical Adelaidc. 
"I tell you he's nothing but the other one's 
yalet. He as much as 0\\ ned it to me, the last 
time he was herf". But, master or man, it 
doesn't 1llu"h matter. Do tcll us no\\, my dear 
doctor, wlu.thcr we ought to tale this little 
girl or not ?" 
All 
Ir. Dra'X.'s discrf"tion \Vas required to 
enable him to givc t his interr(\
atjl)n a fitting 
reply. He stroLcd his chin "ith Ius h nds, and 
crossed the foot of one IC M over the I uee of the 
othcr, his fa, ourite aUitute whcn in profound 
111editation. Thcn he soft Iv 5\\ a\"l.d his di::.creet 
head up't1\rd amI do\\ n\\ acd, as though he "'ere 


[F('broary 27, IF 4.] 51 


"f"i!!"hin
 tht" pros and cons f the momen ous 
qU( tion. 'l'hf' Bunnyca tIe, rc. arded him \\ i 11 
UlxiollS interest. They h,\d unlimited C)I}- 
fidence in his discretion. At last thf" wise mall 
spake. 
.. lour usual sums, my dear Mrs. HunllY- 
cast Ie, arc-" 
" \\ e say forty, and tale thirty, or whateH'r 
\\ e can get," the lady superior re
ponded, wit h 
a sigh. "Miss Furblow, it is true, pa) s firl \ ; 
hut then she's 9. parlour-boarder, and her father 
a purse-proud tradesman, with more money 
than wit." 
"Parents are gTowin
 stin!!ier and stingier 
('very day," added Adelaide. "They t hinl wash- 
ing eo
ts nothing, and they won't eH'n pay for 
a 
e.lt at church, or for st,\tionery. That's "hy 
\\('\ e adopted the, iva "oee svstem of in
truc- 
tion, and so sa\ cd half the cOI;ybooks." 
"They have thc impudcnee to come and tell 
us that there arc schoolb advcrti
cd, "ith un- 
limited diet, twenty-se\en acres of !;rowld, a 
carriage lept, Ieeturc
 hy univcrsity profcJsors, 
\\ celly e
aminations by a clerg-yman, a drill- 
sergeant to teach cdli
thenies, milk from the 
cow, and all the accomplishments, including the 
harmonium and the Iudian sceptre, for siA.tecn 
pounds a year. .And no vacations, and the 
quarter to commcnce from t hc day of entra.ncr !" 
" I wouder" hat they feed the children upon?" 
quotes 
Iiss Barbara, disdainfully: U snips and 
snails, and puppy-dogs' tails, I should imagine." 
U I thallI.. Hea\enlCf! ha\e never a(hertIsed," 
rcmarked, \\ ith proper pridc, )'Irs. Bunnyc
tle. 
<C That deg-rad'd,ion bas at lea!òlt becn spared the 
principals of Rhododendron House." 
u" bich always will continue to be e'tcmpt 
from such a humiliation," .Mr. Drax put in, 
"ith a decided bow. U Advertising has been 
overdone, even in the case of patcnt nledi- 
cines." 
The discreet Dr,lx. had committcd one indis- 
cretion in the course of his professional career. 
lIe had dreamed of a Pill which should eclip,," 
thc renown of all othcr pills, which should be 
vended by millions of boxes at one shilling and 
a penn)-halfpenn) each (government stamp in- 
cluded), and "hich should rcalisc a rapid and 
splelldil fnture for himself. Drax.'s \ntiseptie, 
Antiz) motic, Alltivascular Herbal Pills were 
launched, but did not attain success. Either 
they were not advertised enough, or they '''ere 
pufl'ed througl1 wrong channcls. The pills were 
a sore point with Vra1; and his cellar was full 
of thcm. I hope the constitution of thc rat 
benefited by their consumption, and that the old 
women supplicd with the pills at 
Ir. Dra'I.'s 
gratuitous consultations were lilcwisc the bctter 
for them. 
U Well, doctor, what do you say?" )Ii 
Adehide continucd. 
U Your terms are Cort), aud you tale thirt , 
maling e\ en a further reduction when vac...ll.. 
are numcrous, and an inerc..se in llumhf..J 
desirable. lou h:ld rather a bad time last quart. l' 
hut one, when, sc lrICt fever baving brolen ou , 
of thirt) -eight pupils who were sent home to 



5
 [February 2i, IbCl.] 


ALL THE YEAH. ROUND. 


escape infection, onl.v hyent.y-nine returned to I kept a school as long- as I have, girls, you'll 
resume thcÜ' studies." know t.hat there arc, as the doctor says, bun- 
" And then, you know, l\Ir. Lrgg, tJw coal drcrJs of reasons for puttin
 a little bit of a 
II merchant, who had four daughters here with the child away, and leaving her 
under pmpcr care 
smallest heads and the largest appetites it is till she's grown up. I think we're all agreed? 
possible to conceive, bad the wickedness and The little one is to be taken ?" 
dishonesty to go bankrupt, and we never got a " Certainl.v," chorused the three maidens. 
: I penny for two quarters' schooling of the whole " You could not lmve arrived at a more saO'a- 
fOUl'." cious decision," acquiesced :Mr. Drax. 0 
I I "Rent and taxes are hcavy; risks are nume- " But tbe most embarrassing thing of aU is," 
rous; parents are, as you remark with pardonable .Miss Adelaide resumed, "that sbe is to be brouO'ht 
severit y, stingy; provisions are dear" -thus here this vrry night. 1Ve expect her papa ev
ry 
went on, discreetly pondering aloud, :Mr. Drax minute. The gentleman with the diamond ring- 
-" and the fifty guineas are to be paid b.v half- the man-servaut, I mean-said they might be as 
yearly payments, in advance. WeU, dear ladies, late as half-past ten. Only fancy a visit, at so 
I. th
nk, if I were you, I should take the little late an hour, and from a stranger too, at Rho- 
gll'l. ' dodendron House! Such a thing has never 
c, So young a child can't eat much," mused happened to us since we first came here. And 
:Miss Adelaide. it Was principally for that reason, doctor, that we 
" She won't ",-ant any accomplisllments yet asked you to come. We wished, iu case YOll 
awhile, .md when she does we must ask higher advised us to take this little thing, to have you 
terms." here, as a kind of witness, as it were, when h
r 
"And ller papa is evidently a gentleman," papa brought her." 
2\liss Barbara added. "Perhaps her papa will object," remarked 
"'1.'0 say nothing of the man-servant with Barbara. 
the diamond ring," interposed Adelaide, some- cC'1.'o what? To something he can't see anJ 
what maliciously. more than the man in the moon can?" retorted 
"With one so young," wound up 1111's. Bunny- her sister, snappishly. "Nothing would be 
castle, with soft didacticism, "on a mind so likelier than his objection to a stranger being 
tendcr and so plastic. who shall say what present if his object is to secure secresy; but, 
durahle and nluable impressions m
y not be at the same time, nothing is easier than to avoid 
nlRtie ? How many children are treated with t he slightest unpleasantness." 
I' har
hness and want of consideration; how many "Of course, of course," said the discreet 
llare been set down as dunces and idlers, be- apothecary. "I apprehend your meaning ill a 
: : I cause their natures have not bee
 understood; moment, tny deal' young lady. You wish me to 
because theÌl' capacities have not been discrimi- be a witness, but an irnTisible one. You must 
' I!,I nating-Iy ascertained; because their suseeptibili- receive the risitors in the front drawing-room. 
ties ha\Te not been worked upon; because the If you will kindly have the lamp lighted there, and 
responsi,'e chords in their characters have not leave me here ill darkness (and, he might ha,,'c 
been touched by the judicious fingers of kind- added,' in discrction'), with oue of the folding- 
1 : ' ,1 ness and sympathy-" doors the slightest degL'Ce in the world on the 
"There, ma, that will do," :Miss Adelaide jar, I shall be an auditor to all that passes, and 
broke in, with a shake of sadness in her voice; you may depend on my adroitness to see as well 
"we're taIking- business, and don't want ex- as hear." 
tracts from the prospectus at supper-time. '1.'he Miss Adelaide Bunnycastle clapped her hands 
,I principal stumbling-block to me, dear doctor, is in grave applause at the apothecary's sugges- 
the absence of references. 1Ve are, you know, tion. Celia regarded him with eyes of favour. 
so very eÀclusive." Barbara smiled upon him. Old 1\1rs. Bunny- 
Exclusiveness at Rhododendron House meant castle was just on the point of asking him if he 
this-and it has pretty nearly the same signifi- would take just one little drop more of spirits- 
,I cation at five hundred boarding-schools-the and-wate1' (although I am certain that Drax, in 
I 13unnycastles had a decided objection to taking' his discretion, would have refused), when the 
I any pupils unless they were perfectly certain of gate bell was rung, and, a moment afterwards, 
punctuality in the receipt of quarterly payments the sound of carriage-wheels was heard crunch. 
:. from their relatives or friends. iog the 
ravcl-walk before Rhododendron Honse. 
I " Admitting that the want of satisfactory re- 1'1ìe ladies hurried into tbe drawing-room. A 
ferences is a serious impediment." remarked 1\11'. solemn lamp wit.h a green shade round it was 
Drax, with his discreetest smile, "is it an in- hastily illumined; and presently Pepper an- 
superable one?" llounccd that two gentlemen, with a little child, 
I "It. may have been a love-match," suggested requested an interview with 1\1rs. and the :Uiss 
" Adelaide. Bunnvcastles. 
" 01" a scion of nobility," added Celia. 
 
'I "01' one against whom great machinations 
h:we been formed," said Barbara. 
" Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed 1\1rs. Bun- 
nycastle, with an energy unusual to one of her 
soft and sentimental nature. ".When you've 


[Conducted by 


CHAPTER YJ, LILY SITS UP LATE. 
FRAXCIS BLUNT, ESQ., sometimes called Frank, 
but familiarly known as Griffin, entered the 
scholastic presence ",'ith the assured step of o?-e 
who felt himself among those ready to do lum 



I I I 
[1 roar" .")
 1 "J 
I 
II 
I 
I 


Charle. DiCkens.] 


ALL TIlE YEAR RUGSD. 


bvmage_ lIe was still exquisitely pf'llitr'-in- 
dr"d, courting \h1S second lloltUl"
 to him; but 
I bi3 p
littne .. "as the conde ecno;ion of 11 SOH- 
rei
n amollg his suhject:i-ot the 
brquis de 
Camhas amollt;' his \"assals. 
'I Mr_ munt had thrown ovcr his at tirc of the 
afternoon a long ample cloak of circular cut, 
" I deeply faced \vith velvet, and made of t he fine
t 
broadclot h. It 
 as called a "
panish " cloal ; 
anù ill 
pnnish I am afraid the eminent 
lr. 
Nugce, the tailor who had nH
de it, was paid. 
l3Iunt had IOllg since passed mto that state of 
indehtedness "hen a man gets credit solely on 
the strength of his alrcady owing 50 much. 
Close upon his heels, and carrying a slight 
ehildi
h form wrapped up in a cloak, \\as Mr. 
Elunt's friend. Yes; he "as his friend-his 

uicle and philosopher too, although to the world 
the relation in which he stood towards the man 
of fashion "as not more cxalted than that of a 
\"alet de chambre. Mr. !Hunt's friend was hero 
amI valet in onc, anù looled each c!Jaracter 
equally well. 
In his way he "as as exquisitely dressed as 
his mastcr. 1 t is difficult .to make anything 
remarkable out of a full SUlt of glossy Llac!.. 
10u must needs lool, in general, either iike a 
waiter, or a doctor, or a schoolmaster, or an 
unclertaler. ThE' friend and valet of "Francis 
lllunt, .Esq., did not approach anyone of the 
above-mentioned typcs of humanity. Mr.l\ ugee 
made the coats of the man as weJI as of thc 
master. The valet's coat was perfection. It 
wasn't a bod\--coat, and it wasn't a swallow-tail 
-nay, nor a 'frock, nor a surtout, nor a spcnser, 
nor [l shooting-jacket. It" as a coat with" hich 
no one could quarrcl. It had the 
lightest 
clerical appearance, just tinged with a shade of 
the sportmg cut. There is little need to sa} any- 
thing of the supplementary garments worn by .Mr. 
.l)lunt's friend. That incomparable coat disarmed 
I all ulterior crit icism, and would have compensated 
I for anv short-comings in the remainder of the 
'I attire. Þ Such sbort -comings, however, were nOll- 
: I existent, Everything came up to a hi
ll standard 
I, of excellence. A delicate appreciation of art was 
shown in the thill brown gaiter with pearl but- 
tons, that sho\\cditself bet\\een the termination 
of the pantaloon and the foot of the varnished 
boot. A relined spirit of propriety "as 111.lnifcst 
in the narrow shirt-collar, and the quietly folded 
scarf of black ribbed silk, fa!>tened with a sub- 
dued camco representing the pl"Ofile of a Homan 
emperor. Lven that diamond ring to \\hieh 
)li
s UW1l1) castle had called attention, large 
and evidcntly \.aluable as it \\as, bad notbin
 
about it on \\ hich the imputation of obtru::.i, e- 
uess or vainglory could he fixed. It was worn 
on the little 'finger of the lcft hand, and rarely 
hrought into play. 
It is time to say a few words about the indi- 
II \ idual for \\ hom a "kilful t,Ülor Dnù his 0\\ n 
delicacy of taste had done so much. 
aturc 
hdd been partiall
 kinù, hut, \\ ilh her usual 
caprice, here ami t here hostile, to the iudi\ iJu,ll. 
lle \\ dS of the midùle 
ize, and clean Ii III Lcd, hu t 
all the pO\\elS of the c,;at \\ere needed-and 


they. nearJy but ß( entin']!, uccc..d....J-:" () 
g'1I ",Ul
 the fdct tlt..t he w so round-
I..JU11 'red 
,IS to be almost humpback d. Without I h . el f 
he "ould have bcen QuasiDlodoj \\ilh tlte c 
t: 
he was only a gentleman who, unfortun (,1 v, 
stooped a good deal. IIis head W.iS lar" , but 
the collar of that invaluable coat was 80 cut a to 
mo.1ke his neck sit well on his torso. IIi.. hrtir" as 
of the decpest raven black-blue in th relll'tions 
indeed-aud, had it had its own \\ ay, would hdve I 
grown in wildly tufted luxuriancr. But from I 
nape to temples his locks had bcen shorn to inn- 
OJ"able shortness; yct, close as the sci"
ors had 
gonc, you could tell at a glance that a forest Lad 
be{'n therc. 
r n the wbole attitude of the man there "as 
repose, concealed strength, abncgation of out- 
\vard 5ho\\. Had he giH:n his c)es and lips 
full play, the expression of his countenance 
"ould have been terriblc. But, '" ith rare self- 
denial, he lept his eyelids habitually drdwn 
down, and veiled his grcat, flashing, devouring 
orbs with the yellO\v nimbus round cach pupil. 
In the same spirit of abstention from show, Ilis 
lips, naturally full and pulpy, were uncler in- 
fle'\ible management, aud were kept firmly set 
together. Not half the world knew" hat hLrge, 
regular, white teeth he had. lIe sometimes 
smiled 7 but he nevcr bit, in public. There was 
one concealment he could not, or had not, cared 
to make. The very Jarge, bushy black eye- 
brows were untampered wIth, and notwithstand- 
ing the laùomed amenity of his physiognomv, 

ave him a somewhat forbiddin
 look. Add to 
this that his complexion was d'nl.., but so hr 
removed from sanguineous hues as to be well Þ 
nigh sallow, and that on each check he wore a 
shortclosely-cl'Opped triangular whislcr strongly 
resembling a mutton-cutlet, and you have him 
complete. 
This individual was Monsieur Constant, ,-alet 
de chambre and confidential factotum to :Francis 
Blunt, Esq., and speaking English fluentJy and 
idiomatically. He knew all that his master did j 
and thcre were a great many things within bis, 
the servant's kcn, of which the mastcr had 
not the slightest idea. Monsieur Constant said 
that he was fivc-and-thirty years of age, bien 
sonnés, which means that he might have been 
between five-and-thirty and forty; and there 
was no reason for disbelieving his statement. 
Monsieur Constant came fl'Om S\\ itzerland- 
from one of the cantons bordering upon Italy, 
I should opine, to judge from his s\\arthy com- 
plexion. I bclie\e his christian name "as Jean 
Baptiste, at his foreign antecedents he ,,
 reti- 
eellt. His Engli!>h autecedents could be kno\\ n to 
all who "cre at the pains to inquire. 'They "ere 
enrollcd in a long catalogue of di::.ting-uished 
service with the Uritish aristocracy. His cha- 
ractcr, or rather his characters, "ere staiulc ). 
He had bcen the Marchiollcss of Cæurd. .1rt':i 
courier. lIe had \ aleted the Dule of 1.u 1- 
poster, and attended on his son and heir, the 
)"OUllg )larquis of 'l'ruffietoD, at Oxford, and 
throughout the 
"'ll1d tour. Ht' had be n for 
a short time groom of the chambers to 
rd 


-:.. 



54 [February 2;. 1864,] 


ALL THE YEAR n.OU
j). 


[Conducted ty 


Buffbol"Ougll, when that nobleman was ambas- 
sador at Paris. Griffin Blunt had won him from 
the diplomatic service, and although he lost 
promotion, if not caste, by the change, the valet 
clung with strange tenacity to his new master, 
in whose service be had now been three years, 
Master and man alike suited each other, Each, 
perchance, had his own game to play, and played 
It with tranquil skill. )Ir, Blunt declared that 
his man Constant was unrivalled. " None of 
your five-act comedy valets," he "ould say, 
"but a steady-going, responsible fellow, who 
knows his business, and goes about it without 
boring you. He's a proud fellow enough. Sells 
myoId clothes to a Jew, and has his own coats 
made by my tailor. Never dresses beyond his 
station, however, He does me credit; and, 
egad ! I fancy he shares in it, though I dare say 
he's got much more money than 1 have." I 
fallcy :Monsieur Jean Baptiste Constant had. 
As for the third person in this group, poor 
little Lily, the child was placidly slumbering in 
the folds of the great warm shawl. She had 
cried herself to sleep in the hackney -coach, and 
her wakin
, when the vehicle stopped at Rhodo- 
dendron House, was but for a moment. Mon- 
sieur Jean Baptiste Constant laid her gently 
down in the state arm-chair, with its elaborately 
worked anti-macassar: slightly to the horror 
of Miss Celia. Bunnycastle, who had never 
seen a new pupil permitted to occupy that 
imposing throne of maroon-colomed morocco, 
and then stood respect.fully in the baeI,ground, 
a demure smile mantling on his dark face. 
Adelaide Bunnycastle admitted in the inmost 
recesses of her heart that the scene was emi- 
nently romantic. It waS like I..Jara; it was 
like the Corsair; it was like Thaddeus of War- 
saw. 

Ieamvhile, :Mr. Blunt had allowed his mantle 
to drop gently from his shoulders, and accepted 
with his gracefullest bow the seat offered him bJ 
:Mrs. Bunnycastle, who had reserved the llloreen 
morocco fauteuil for his reception, but had, in 
stress of upholstery, been fain to fall back on a 
high-backed chair of walnut wood. He was 
overwhelming in compliments and apologies for 
intruding on the ladies at so unseemly an hour ; 
pleaded stress of business, and an imminent de- 
parture for foreign parts. 
" Ah! he's been abroad, has he P" mused 
I Mr. Drax, in the dark, "The man-servant's 
II a foreigner too. Let's have another look at 
! I him." And in Lis anxiety to obtain a better 
I view, Ur, Drax, slightly derogating from his 
reputation for discretion, opened one of the 
doors yet a little and a little more, till it 
creaked. 

Ir. Blunt started. "What the devil is that 
noise F" he asked, with an abruptness not pre- 
cisely in unison with the tone of mellifluous 
suavity he had adopted a moment before. 
Mrs. Bunnycastle had no time to be shocked 
at the irreverence of the stranger's query. She 
was too much flurried by the creaking of the 
door, and in a nervous murmur laid the blame 
of the occurrence on the cat, Mr. Blunt seemed 


perfectl..... satisfied when the grave, respectful 
voice of 
Ionsieur Constant gave a fresh turn to 
the con versation. 
He had politd.v declined the seat offered llÌm 
by the youngest Miss Bunnycastle, and remained 
standing; but now advanced a couple of paces. 
" Monsieur, whom I have the honour to serve," 
he said, "has brought the little girl of whom 
mention has already been made. 
Ionsieur is 
ready to pay the sum agreed upon, fifty guineas, 
for one year's board and education, and only 
requires a little papel' of receipt undertaking 
that no further demand shall be made upon him 
until a year is past," 
" 'Ye don't eVen know the gentleman's name 
if we made such a demand," 1Irs. Bunn\castle 
remarked, with a smile. "But the youñg bdy 
must be called by. some name or other." 
"Certainly, certainly," broke in the dandy. 
" Call her Floris. I'm .Mr. Floris." 
" Floris; a very pretty name indeed," said 
Miss Barbara, writing it down on a sheet of 
paper. "And her christian name P" 
The master looked unE:asily at the valet. I 
think he had forgotten his daughter's name. 
"Lily," said )lonsieur Constant, thus ap- 
pealed to. 
As he spoke, the child woke up from her 
sleep, and thinking herself called, answered 
with a sob that she was "vay tyde." The 
sound of her voice was a signal to the two 
younger 2\Iiss Bunnycastles to basten to the 
arm-chair, to unrol the little one from her 
shawl, to 1.iss her, and smooth her hair, and 
fondle her, and go through the remainder of the 
etiquette invariably observed at Rhododendron 
House at the reception of a new pupil of tender 
age, Not that the :Miss Bunnycastles were 
eit.her hypocritical or ill-natured. They Viere 
naturally very fond of children, but they saw so 
manv, and so ml'"'' of them. 
Tile reqUirell paper was duly macìe out, 
nd 
signed by 1\lrs. .Bunnycastle; and .Monsieur Con- 
stant, ad\Tancing to the table, respect.fully placed 
a little wash-leather bag, containing fift
-two 
pounds, ten, in the hands of t.he schoolmistress, 
Nothing lotI), Mrs. Buunycastle proceeded to 
count it; and e....en the eyes of her two eldest 
daughters twinkled as the sovereigns g-ave out 
their faint" chink, chink." Barbara Bunnycastle 
was insensible to the gold's seductive sound, 
Her eyes wandered from the master to the 
valet, and her soul was filled with wonder and 
admiration for both. It was like the Cottagers 
of Glenburnie. It was like the Children of the 
Abbey. It grew more and mOre romantic every 
moment. 
"1'here is only one little thing more," said 
Mrs. Bunnycastle, rather hesitatingly, "Ras- 
a-has your-has the gentleman (she indi- 
cated Monsieur Constant) brought the young 
lady's boxes P" 
".What boxes P" asked the dandy, ,,"ith a 
polite stare. 
"ReI' clothes-her linen," explained all the 
Bunnycastle family with one voice. 
Francis Blunt, Esq., looled at them, generally, 



ALL 'filE YEAr.. ROUXD. 


-5 


Charlel Dlckenl.] 


[r ru&ry 111 


in blank discomposure. lIe turn d to 1\
OI1 : ur I He w^^ roin
; Ill' was on thl thre id. 
Constant. but that rttailler ::.hru!!
ed Ill. I'oul_ whcn 
[I n ' 'ur Cun .
nt \\ IIJ:!pered to lum : 
ders as thou
h it \\ ere bt'yond hi, province 01' .. 'Iom;"ur ha for ,ottcn to bid adieu to la 
his power to interfere, p..titc.." 
U Confound it!" cn I th d1ndy. ., It's very With hi
 u"u'll charming Q'rac' J he im- 
ve-:ttious; but the fr t; , wl.:
e forgotten the print,'d a Li. s on Lily'''. brll\\. The lit' I one 
clothes." did not h cd him. 
be had f,tllen asl"ep 11

in. 
U A nice afTrctionatr futher," lllurmurcd 
Ir. lIe turned, bo\\ d, and touched the tip o. all 
Drnx, in the dark, the ladi4.- ' fh gl'r
 in succf' Jion, Il(' \\,1" un- 
'l'he dilemma \\.t Q p _.Ilning, but not irre- rivalled in the art of touching 
our hand, \\ith- 
medi.lhle. ::\lonsieur Con
tallt e\.plained that out shaling it. The \\-omen's gJ.rmcnt rue tied 
Mon
ieur whom he had the honour to sen'c, had n
ain as they bent in cddying curtseys. )ft)n. I 
Jeft )lcLClemoiscllc's petit troussc,Ul at hi:s hotel sieur Constant be
to\\ cd a bow on the comp Iny, I. 
in London. '\"nuld the ladies umlertale to reverenti,ll but not servile, as became his degree; 
procure clothes for the child, if a sum were left and Pepper ushered the two to the door, and 
in ndmnee, sufficient for what she might pro- they went a\\ay. 
bably require? 'Irs. ßunnycastle bowed her I 
hrad in gracious npproval of this proposal. 
What sum would be requisite? Oh! merely a 
few pounds. The valet whispcred the rn!1ster. 
The latter, looking anything but pleased, but. 
from a pur&e elegantly embroidered \\ it h bead:. 
and gold thread, took out a couple of cri!>p fhe- 
pounù note
, which he h'lnded to 
lr&. Bunny- 
castle. Then he rose, suppressing a sli
l.lt 
YJ,\\n, saying that it was past cleven o'clock, 
and that he had detained the ladies an uncon- 
scionably long time. 
All the ",omen's 
arments rustled-for they 
had dressed themselves ill silk attire, in ex- 
pectation of his visit-as hc made his reve- 
rence of farewell. "::\Irs. ßunnycastle was profuse 
in her thanks, and protestations of solicitude 
for Lily's wrlfare. The young hdies chimed in 
harmoniously. 
" She is to be brought up in the principles of 
the Church of England i''' 
fC Of course, ot course. By all means; eh, 
Constant p" 
Monsieur Constant bowed diplomatically, as 
though to convey that, professin
 as he might 
himself a dilTerent creed. he had the profoundest 
respect for the Church of England, as that of 
the ladies before him, of Monsieur whom he 
had the honour to serve, and of the genteel 
classes generally. 
"As her little mind expands." said Mrs. 
Bunnycastle, "no efforts of ours shall be spared. 
not onl,v to instil info her piety and virtue, but 
to lay the found ttion of cle\er ornate accom- 
plishments-" 
" Thank. you, thank :- ou." 
f r, Blunt returned, 
rather hastilv, and cutting short a further in- 
stahnent of the paraphrased prosprctus; "when 
she's old enou
h, of course she'llieam French 
and drawing, and that sort of thing." 
" And dancing," suggested the valct, in a low 
deeply respertful voice. 
.Mr, Blunt started, as though a wasp had 
stung him. When he spoke ngain, there was a 
strnnge dry harshness in his voice. ":Madam," 
llc said, turning to the schoolmistre
" \\ ith a 
sternness ull\\onted in so urh.tne a gentleman, 
" I do not \\ ant my daughter to learn to danef'. 
Mind that, if yOU plc.J.SL. 1\0 dancing for 
[i"s 
Lily Horis. I ha\e the hOllour to wihh )OU a 
I \ t:ry good night. " 


The first thing the Bunnycastles did \\ hen 
the sound of the haclney-coach whrrls had 
dicd away, was to bear the lamp nnd the 
money into t he back parlour, anù rejoin the 
di&creet .Mr. Dr<lx. fhell, they proceeùt":l to 
count the fifty-two sovereigns and a half, all 
0\ er again. Then they examined the crisp 
bank-notes, from the medallion of Britannia 
to the sign.lture of 
Ir. Henry lIase. TheIl 
they turned to tbe backs of tho
c document
, 
scanning the much-blotted dorsal scribbJiur;s- 
the worst pens, the worst ink, and the w ust 
pothooks and hangers in the world alwa\""s seem 
call cd into play for the endorsement òf bank.- 
notes-and wondered whether "ßlo

," \\ ho 
dated from Isl('\\"orth. or "Cutchins and Co.," 
who gave their addre"s in Leather-hne. or 
"C. J. Gumhy." who seemingly resided at EO\', 
could have an
 thing to do with the mysteriou 
strangers "ho had just faded a\\ay from thei. 
ken, Ie lying a little child, not four years old. ,"\ 
checked woollen shawl. and sixt) pounù.. odd. 
sterling moncy of this realm, behind them. Th(, 
could make nothing of the notes, however, bë- 
yond the fact that they were genuine, or of the 
gold, save that it chinked cheerily, or of either, 
save that the money looked ven- nice. TlIt:n 
they drew breath, and interchan
ed glance of 
pleasing perplexity. 
I think it was )lr. Dra'{ who, with his ne\""cr- 
f,liling discretion, no\\ sU
!jested that it might 
perhaps be bettf'r to put the "new pupil" to 
bed, as she had c')me a lon
 way, and must be 
\ cry tired. Poor little "new pupil!" The 
BunnJcastles had forgotten aU about her. 
Adelaide aclnowled!!"Cd with a smile that the 
litt
e body had quik
 sli r ped her memory, nnd, 
\\-lnle she rang the bel for Pepper, requt.3ted 
Barbara to fetch the child from tht' drawing- 
room. 
The child looked up whcn she was brought 
II1to the cozy back parlour, but did not crv, 
She seemed to be rather relieved by the ab- 
rnce of the 1\\0 men who had brought her to 
Uhododendron Housf", The dauJ
 's rf'splerdcnt 
attire and dazzling teeth, anù the \aJet's coat, 
cameo, and smile, dad alil..e failed in produ". .tg 
a fa.\ourablc cffeet on her, On the other ha.ld, 
while sht' submitted to be patted on the head 
by )lr
. llunDJcastle, and e\ ereI) sw.iled at by 



-i 


jß [February 27, 186-1.] 


ALL THE YEAIt ROU:\D. 


[Conducted by 


'I 


the three youn
 ladies, shc took ,cry kindly to 

1r. Drax, and, coming toddling towards him, 
e
;sayed to climb upon his knees, stretching for- 
wmd one of her plump little hanùs as though 
she desired to touch Jlis discreet and mystic 
neckclot.h. 
 
" Ah!" smiled 
lr, Drax, as he lifted her up 
and imprintcd a discreet kiss on her forehead, 
just at the roots of her hair. "She "on't. be 
so very fond of me ,-rhcn she has taken half the 
nasty things I shall be obliged to give her. Poor 
little thing! I ,,'onder whether she's had the 
measles ?" 
He leaned back in his chair and regarded her 
in fond anticipation, as though mildly gloating 
over a subject \, ho was to conduce to the en- 
largement of his professional experience, and in 
t.he increase of his quarterly bills. His reyerie 
was put all end to by the arrival of I'epper, 
who, like a good-natured woman as she was, 
had in a few moments stroked Lily's bro\\' n 
curls, kissed her on both cheeks, chucked her 
under the chin, hoisted her up in her arms, and THE journey from Calcutta to the tea-grO\, ing 
told her half a mcrry story about a little girl \\"ho districts of Assam and Caehar, during the dry 
was always ready to go to bed, and was, in conse- weather, nece
sitates a visit to the Soonderbunds 
que nee, much beloved by all the angels. -an cnormous tract of desolate jungle, streteh- 
"This is :Miss Floris, Miss Lily Floris, ing from the river Hooghly, on the western side 
Pepper," :Mrs. BUllllycastle remarked, with of the Bay of Bengal, to Chittagong", on the east, 
calm dignity. "Her papa, who is going abroad, a distance of upwards of two hundred miles 
was obliged to bring her very late. "What beds across, and intersected \\ ith innumerable narrow 
ëre there vacant, P
pper ?" streams, the various outlets of the Ganges. This 
"There's number two, in the first room, dreary waste of country is thc sole alld undis- 
mum," answered the domestic. puted property of tigers, leopards, and other 
"Among the elder girls," interposed Ade- wild IJeasts, and is only visited occasionaUy by 
Iaide; "that would never do. They never go a class of natives calling themselves "wood- 
to sleep until daybreak, I do belie, e, and they'd cutter;s," who constantly fall victims to these 
question her out of her life before breakfast- animals. 
time. And :Mamselle, though it's her duty not \Vhile steering through these narrow rivulets, 
to allow them to talk, is just as bad as they herds of deer feeding on the edges of the jungle 
are." attracted our atteution, the more so as they 
"There's five and ninc in the second room; allowed us to get quite close to them before 
but there's no mattre
,s on five; and as for uine, condescending to take the slightest notice of our 
,"ou know, mum- steamer, Had we been disp03ed, we might lJave 
I 
" Well, \\ hat do we know?" asked :Miss Celia, shot any number of them, but it being consi- 
I sharply. dered unadvisable to stop the course of t4e 
; "!t'E the bed :Miss Kitty died in," repper vessel, we haù sufficient humanity to leave them 
I returned, with an effort, in peace. \Ye" ere by no means sorry when 
: I There was a prejudice in Rhododcndron we steamed clear of this desolate region, ::Ind 
House against slecping in the bed that kitty anchored on the fifth day at Kooilleah, the first 
had died in. coaling depôt after leaving Calcutta. The after- 
"S.tufI and nonsense 1" cried l\lrs. Bunny- noon of the uinth day brought us to Dacca, and 
castle. here we bade farewell to our steamer, the vessel 
"\Yell, where ure we to put her?" Adelaide being ordered to return, and we being instructed 
asked, impatiently. " We can't keep the child to shift for ourselycs as we best could until 
up all night." another arrived to take us on to Cachar. 
Lily looked remarkably wide awake, and as I was not long before I found myself eomfort- 
though she intended to remain so, She" as ably housed, A letter of introduction in England 
plaving with the ribbons in Pepper's cap, ::Ind means a little civility" hen JOU deliver Jour cre- 
apl1arently would not hm'e had the slightest ob- dentials, or, at lIIost, an invitation to dinner, while 
I jectioll to the continuance of that amusement in India it signifies board, lodging, ::Ind every com- 
until cockcrow. As for :Mr. Drax, his discretion fort and attention that it is possible to oIrer. I 
stood him in good stead during this essentially have reason to speak favourably of Indian hos- 
I domestic conversation, and he feigned to be vitality, for I was 4etailled at Dacca upwards of 
immersed in the perusal of a volume of thc three weeks, and during the whole of that period 
I, 
lissionary Magazine for 1829. was entertained by people \\'hol11 b 1 had never seen 
"\Vell, if you please, mum," Pepper ventured before in my life. Much has een written and 
II to represent, "I think tbat as tbe dear little I said eoneeming the arcogaoee of Indinn oilleials, 


girl's so younf;, and so tired, and so strange, II 
l"d bet! er take her to bed with me, mum, and 
then, to-morrow, 
'OU know, mUII1, 
ou can see 
about it." 
The ladies were graciously pleased to accept 
this suggestion, and it was agreed to nem. con. 
Anù then-it being now fully half-after cleven 
u'clock-Lilyand her llew guardian disappeared, 
and the discreet Mr. Drax took his leave, pro- 
mising to call in on the morrow afternoon, in 
case his advice should be needed. 
" A very nice girl is Barbara BunnyeastJe," 
said :Mr. Drax, softly to himself, as he walhed 
home to College-strt'et. "A very nice girl, 
and one who would make any man's home 
Lappy." 
Both Adelaide and Barbara dreamed of 
Ir. 
Drax, 


":MAKING TEA" IN IKDIA. 


- -- - _
I 



[February 27, IA64.] 


57 


ALL TIlE YEAH. ItüUXD. 


II 
I I both in their public and priv.Lte character. but 
my experience has sho" n m(' th..t no cla
 of 
I men desen e the epithet Ie J. !' ow that thc 
count ry is being opcncd up by rail" ays in every 
direction, and tr8\ ellin
 h'lS be ome no long-er a 
matter of danger and difficult). all cI
ses, ollicial 
and Ilon-otlicial. arc compelled to bc morc cau- 
tious coneerning- "hom they invite to tale up a 
residence in their home,,;; for many cases have 
oceurrpd of late ye1.rs, of hospitality ha\'ing- been 
alJU"ed by Rd\'enturer
, anù unlucl) hosts sorely 
viclimised. 
" hen the steamer arri\ed that \\as to convey 
no; to C.lchar, we \\cre by no means pleascd to 
find tlJat she had in tow t" 0 large barges, termed 
"flats," loaded with sc\ cra! hundred Coolics for 
the tpa plantations. 
The horrors of a slave ship are familiar enoug-h, 
and in attempting to describe the position of the 
poor wretches who were crowded 
nto these 
barges-men, women, and children indiscrimi- 
nately-" ithout regard to sex or age, T shall put 
forward no statement that cannot be substan- 
tiated. Soon aftcr we left hlcca, cholera broke 
out amongst these miserable creatures, and in 
less than three' days we consigned several bodies 
to the riHr. It. will, perhaps, be as well if I take 
the reader bael to Calcutta, for the purpose of 
showing ho\\ the !':
 stf'm of Coolie emi
ration to 
I the tea districts of Assam and Cachar \\ as ear- 
, ried ou only twehe months ago. 
The enormous demand for labour in those 
pro\ inees necessitated the establishment in Cal- 
I cutta of privatl' emi
tion agents; and men, 
"omen, and children, "ere contracted for lil..e 
catt1e, at so much per head. the contractors 
receiving from the tea-plantcrs a certain sum 
'I for e\'ery indidduallanded on their plantations. 
as wcll as for those who died on the passage. 
The result of this human traffic "as, as might 
have becn expected, an amount of dishonesty 
and cruelty as di"graeeful and repugnant as the 
African slavc trade itself. It was of little con- 
sequence to the contractors how many died 
during the three \\ eeks' passage to Caehar or 
Assam, since thcy reccived so much pcr head 
for all those that quitted Calcutta. The re- 
sult was, that old men and \\omcn, whose 
lives might be reckoned in days, and even 
hours, the lame, the halt, the blind, and thc 
diseased, "cre crammed pell-mell into these 
barg-es, to infect mcn, women, and children who, 
"hen t hey left Calcutta, werc in the enjoyment 
of robust health. })re"ious to cmharlahon they 
wcre collected at certain ùepôts, \\ here, to use 
the langua
c of a gO\ ernnwnt official "ell 
known and respected throughout India, and who 
has lately published an inte1"e
ting work on the 
cultivation of tll, "thesc unfortuuate crcaturrs 
were located in placls, the pcstilcntial vapours 
of which, 
encr'lted b) the ordure and filth with 
"hieh t hey were filled, \\ ere dead!J to human 
life. )[any cont.raftt('d thc [!crms of distemper 
nnd di
nasp, and in t hi" 5' \te wcre r. laced in 

at".?s on board hoats +0 be 
ent to t leir final 
de t ination. IIerf>, erowd('d and huddled to- 
g the 1', and compelled tl li\ e in a statl' of un- 


Charles DlckeDs.] 


eleanneqs revolting to human nature, 8"1 mj r7 ht 
be expected cholera and othcr malig-n it C:j.. _ ''i 
broke out \\ ith fearful effect. In some in
tuu(. s, 
ten per ccnt of thes ' \\ rdched victims "cre Car- 
ricd off in as many days. In others, the mor- 
tality reached to forty or fifty per cent in a 
three wcd,s' voyage." 
That thcrr is not the slightcst ting-c of c't (P. 

eration in this de cription I am confi 1 
t, for 
1 La\ e hy me notes talen during our Journ y 
from I>dcea to Cachar on board th(' Thomas 
Brassey-a voyagc which lasted only ten d.l)s- 
and I find not only numerous deaths recon l ed 
amongst the Coolies from cholera and ot1"r 
disease", but al!':o the het mentioned, that I 
u amon
 the number are se\ eral bufihing from 
elephantiasis, three totally blind, other
 unable 
to walk except with the aid of crutphr ,and I 
one" ho has had his right hand amputatf'd-a 
mluable addition, certainly, to a tea plantation." I , 
[t "ill naturally be nsled what becomes ofth se 
useless creatures? 'l'he reply is, that they arc 
turncd adrift to shift fõr themselves as b( ,t they 
can. 
When we landed at Cae hal', a dispute' arose 
between some of the planters to whom the 
Coolies were consigned and the captain of t hc 
Thomas Brassey; the planters contending that 
they haù receivcd no ath ice concerning such a 
large batch, and refusing to take overcharge of 
more than the number they supposed themsL1ves 
entitled to; the captain of the steamer in- 
si<;tinl7 that C\ ery man. woman, and child :-hould 
leave his vessel at once, as he had performcd thc 
contract he had undertal..en of bringing them to 
C,lchar, and that he "ould not furnish a meal 
for them after the anchor had droppftd. They 
were all accordingly landed on the banks of tJ 
river. ".hen we left Cachar, a few d:l\ s aft r- 
wards, m.any of them "ere still there:" ithout 
shelter of any description, and would ito doub+ 
ha\.e starved if it had not not bcen for the lind. 
ness of a fcw gonrnmeut officials, 
ho supplied 
thcm wit.h mcans of subsistence from their own 
private pur ps. One would h1.vC imagined th.t 
owin
 to the sC'lrcity of labour e\ ery Coolie 
would have been greerlilv snatchcd up, al\d 
doubtless thcy would ha\ e been if the emaci ted 
countenances and \\ asted limbs of those that re- 
mained haU not unmistakably g-iHn warning 
that. deat h had set his scal upon them. 
'l'o corroborate \\ hat I h'lve stated concerning 
the transmission of Coolies from Calcntt,L to tll('" 
tea-gro\\ ing districts, I "ill make a few e'\t r3 ft ts 
from a report dra\\ n up by a eommittec of gen- 
tlemcn appointcd by the .l3cngal government to 
inquire into the system. 
'fhe opinion at which tbey arrivcd wa". that 
.. Coolies \\ere shipped.in large b'ltches without 
am. arrangement to securc order and cleanlin 
that uneflolpd food "as issued wit houl cc )ls 
to prepare it; that the medical charge of the 
('\lolies in many cases were left to ignorant 
Chuplassies, \\ho \\cre entrusted "jth s,n"lll 

upplies of medieinc, with thc use 
 of wit: h 
tltPy were, of eour5 ns ignorant as the men to I 
"h0111 tl'e) administered it," and th.,t "1:1
 '\rl '"S 
II 



[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


5S [F"bruary 27, ISv4.] 


were embarked in some instances alm(,st in a 
dying state." The committee found that the 
supply of Coolies was an ordinary commercial 
transactiou between a native contractor aud the 
planter, "all parties considering their duty and 
responsibility discharged when the living" were 
buded and the cost of the dead adjusted." 
'rhey also found that "aftcr the Coolies had 
bcen inspected by the planter's agent in Cal- 
cutta, that feeble and sickly persons were suh- 
stituted for the healthy men accepted and 
passed." 
It is to be hoped that this state of affairs, 
discreditable alike to the government and to 
the planters, has been stopped. There can 
be no doubt tllat the Bengal government con- 
sidered it the duty of those interested in the 
culti\Tation of tea, to adopt a systematic and 
honest cour
e of proceeding- in the importation 
of labour from Calcutta and other parts of India; 
for Sir John Peter Grant, the late Lieutenant- 
Governor of Bengal, on t4e 20th January, 1860, 
wrote: "It is not for the government, but for 
those immediately interested in the tea planta- 
tions of Assam, to apply themselves to this as 
to other requirements of their position." Hence 
it is clear that the gO\-emment considered tlley 
had no right to interfere in the matter; but 
nothing can exonerate them for allowing the 
emigration system to sink to the level of the 
African slave trade. 
A visit to one of the "smiling tea-gardens" 
of Cachar I had 10l1g' looked forward to, and on 
the day an:er our arrin.l in the district, 
the kindness of one of the planters enabled 
me to gl"atify my curiosity. As the country 
in the immediate vicinity of the station was 
nearly entirely under ,vater, we started on our 
elephant for the plantation, and after two hours 
of jolting arri.ed at a very comfortably-built 
II bungalow. I was astonished when ushered into 
I its comfortable and elegantly furnished rooms. 
I 
 .The walls were covered "ith valuable prints, 
I the furniture was tastefully arranged, and of the 
latest pattern; baskets contaiuing exquisite or- 
chids ,,-ere suspended from the three centre 
arches which divided the sitting from the dining 
room; a Broadwood's grand piano and a harp 
occupied one corner; handsome cases well 
stocked with books, vases of flowers, and other 
ornaments one might expect to find in a Bel- 
gravian drawing-room, completed the furniture 
of the apartment. 
"I see," said my friend the planter, noticing 
my look of astonishment, "you ðpected to 
find us established in a sort of barn, with nothing 
but the bare uecessarics of life around us; 
but my rule is, where\Ter I go, to make my- 
self comfortable." And, certainly, things looked 
like it. Under the circumstances, 1 felt that 
the isolation of a tea-planter's life might be 
made very endurable, though it is right to state 
that it is not every man who can afford to fare 
as sumptuousl.V as my friend, or "ho is blessed 
\\ ith such a helpmate to cheer the monotony of 
such an e:\.istence. 
Before sitting down to breakfast, he initiated 


:' 


;1 


me into what he caUed "the secrets of his 
den," The den consisted of a room hunO" round 
wi
h hunting trophies, sp
ars, guns, sporting 
prmts, and meerschaum pipes. In the centre 
was an office-table covered with letters and 
papers; and in front of the ,,,indow was a most 
luxurious rocking-sofa. This" den," he in- 
formed me, \\ as sacred; no one was allowed to 
enter it unlcss by special invitation, e'l:cept a 
very large kangaroo dog, who appeared to COll- 
siùer the apartment as much his p
operty as his 
master's, and who e:\.hibited most disaO"reeable 
signs of dissatisfaction at my intrusion. C 
Breakfast over, we proceeded to visit the 
gardens, the various \\ orkhouses, and the village 
where the people belonging to the plantation 
resided. The gelleral appearance of a tea- 
garden may be described in few words. It is 
exactly like several acres of gooseberry-bushes 
laid out in rows, the shrubs planted a few 
feet apart from each other, and about five feet 
in height, and from five to six in diameter. 
The tea-plant, \\ hich is indigenous to Assam and 
the slopes of the Himalayas, is peculiarly hardy, 
and the higher the altitude at which it grows 
the more fragrant and delicate its flavou
. A 
rich soil and a humid atmosphere with consider- 
able heat, are conducive to luxuriant crops and 
a tea of the greatest strength; while a light, 
though not poor, soil, a temperate climate, and 
a moderate elcvation, are more favourable to 
average crops of the finest or most delicately- 
flavoured teas. 
The cultivation and general treatment of the 
plant in India is precisely the same as in China; 
the government having, in 1842, imported 
experienced Chinese cultivators, manipulators, 
and manufacturers, to superintend and teach the 
various processes. The tea of Assam and 
Cachar is as good as, if not better than, the 
ordinary tea exported from China, and is free 
from the obnoxious colouring- matter (indigo, I 
believe) used by the Chinese for the purpose 
of making it look inviting when packed for the 
European market. The tea-gardens are generally 
formed on undulating country. In Assam and 
Cachar, owing to the great quantity of rain that 
falls during the year, they do not require artifi. 
cial irrigation. In consequence of the extreme 
moisture of these districts, the produce of tea 
is more abundant and luxuriant than in any 
district of the same size in the best parts of 
China. 
From the gardens we went to visit the work- 
houses and godowns, and found young and old, 
""omen and children, engaged in the manipula- 
tion and manufacture of the leaves. I cannot 
describe the \ arious processes from the time 
the leaf is plucked until it is packed for ex- 
portation, and stowed away in large dry go- 
dO\T"ns to await the arrival of a steamer from 
Calcutta, as it would occupy too much space, 
and my object is rather to afford a casual glance 
at a planter's life and habits, and the estate over 
which he reigns supl'em
, than to dive into de- 
tails of the actual culture and manufacture of 
the tea-plant. 



ALL TIlE YEAR HOUND. 


[February Z7,lSC4.] 59 


Charles Dicken..] 


II 


llavin"" described the sutem of C()olie emi
rd- 
tion, it i
 only fair to f, \V a few words touching 
the treatment of the C )olie nfter he becomes 
the property of the planter. The word U pro- 
perty" may possibly be objectrd to as. savtJur- 
m!;' too much of American slavery, but IS reany 
the ri
ht \\ord to use, for he does become to 
all intents and purposes the property of the 
planter, and considers himselt so. It is true 
that he may throw up employment at any 
moment and take his depm.ture, att
lHled b) 
hil:l "iff' and famih, if he be a mamcd man; 
but the question is where he can go to. He 
i;, in a ctrangc land among a strange people, 
hunJre-ls of miles from his 0" n home, and 
"ithout means of transit erell if he have the 
money; and he therefore-very wisely in my 
opinion-regards himself as part of the property 
of the estate. 
In company with my friend 1 visited the 
village, which was within a stone's throw of the 
bungalow. Anything neater, cleaner. or more 
comfortable, I never saw in my life. I am 
a\\are that the plantation I vio;ited was a. model 
one, and that to the lady, who shared the solitary 
life of my friend, must he accorded a large sbare of 
praise for the admirable way in which everything 
on the estate was conducted, still I have reason 
to helie, e, that, as a rule, the tea-planters are 
as lind and genprous to their dependents as 
they are hospitable to any Europeans who IndY 
casu',lIy break in upon their loneliness. The 
Coolie", and indced the Europeans both male 
and fem:tle, suffer very much throughout the 
rainy se'ìson from leech-bites. )ly friend was 
much amused at the state of nervousness 
I was in during my visit on account of these 
troublesome creatures. Being armed with boots 
up to the thigh, he walked along through the 
thick jun
ly grass with impunity: while I, 
before many minutes, found myself attacked 
by several .leeches that had crawled up my 
trousers and into my boots, and fastened them- 
selves upon my unlucky le
s with a \ irious- 
ness. that was perfectl) appa.llin
. K 0 sooner 
had I dislodged one, than another fixed itself 
upon mE', until, in sheer desperation, I was 
compelled to seek shelter and protection in a 
pair of " planter's boots." The bite of a Cachar 
leech is far from pleasant: it causes inflamma- 
tion, and a great amount of irritation; and 
one lady I mct, the "ife of a planter, "as or- 
dered home to England on account of severe 
illnef1 solely caused by the bites of these 
creatures, 
On my return to the station of Caehar, while 
cros$ing a large plain, I was surprised at seein
 
some forty individuals, Europeans and natives 
mounted upon small, stout ponies, and armed 
with long heavy clubs, apparently engaged in 
desperate conflict. On inquiril}
 the c.\Use of 
the affra), I \\as informed that they were plaJ- 
ing hockey: a more novel aud dan
erous piece 
of amuscment I neHr wilne d. However, 
both planters and nat ive , notwithstandin
 the 
hard blo\\s and ("Us thf'] rrcf'i\ d, 'ppear- 
ing to be ClIjO)1Dg' the1ll3ehes e"tc( :>ihJ
, 


, 
I' 
II 


in a weak moment I allowed myself to be 
inveiglrd into the mdee. 1 found myself 
unhOlT d before many minutes had elapsed, 
but, though in the thick of the scrimmage, not 
one of the ponies injured me with his hoofs: 
aU heil1
 taught adroitly to avoid trr1ding 
upon a tallen opponent. The exerci c> is \ery 
he'ìlthy and excitim;, but needs con!'iùerdble 
practice, pluck, and perseverance. This novel : I 
method of playing hockey is a \ery f,nourite 
amusement in Cachar, and the planters assemble 
from milcs round, on certain days, solely for the 
purpose of joining in it. 
The amount of nominal capital represented 
by the tea companies in Ben
al up to last 
NO\ember, according to the Calcutta )Ioney 

larket Circular, was two million ei
ht hundred 
thousand pounds, and of this enormous sum h 0 
million two hundred thousand r ounds had been 
called for. It is intended that al the capital shall 
he paid up within a limited period, and the calls 
are !'prcad over intervals of three months. As 
might have been foreseen, the C.tlcutta money 
market has become seriously affected. The 
Bank of Bengal raised its rate of interest three 
per cent "ithm a month, and the current rate, 
when the last mail left, "as twelve per cent; as 
much as twenty per cent had been paid for ac- 
commodations to enable shareholders to meet 
their calls. 'rhis state of the money market is 
likely to continue until the full amounl of sub. 
stantial capital employed in the cultivation of 
tea h'ìs been provided. Notwithstandin
 this 
extreme and sudden pressure, shares in tea 
companies have not depreciated to any serious 
extent in Calcutta. A parcel were thrown upon 
the market and sold to the hi
hest bidder by 
p,ublic auction at fifty per cent premium! 
l'his of itself will sufficiently indicate the sound- 
ness of this new and wonderful industrial enter- 
prise. 
Besides the immense number of companies 
started within the last five yea) s in India, 
there are several companies established in Lon- 
don for the same purpose, and the shares in 
all arc 3 favourable security with the imesting 
public. 
When the Honourable Mr. Bcadon became 

ovcrnor of 13enga), his first act was to visit 
the pro\inces of Assam and Cachar. Ad- 
dressinf\ the European and nati\e gpntry of 
DibroogllUr, he said: "it has al\\ays been 
the first aim of the British government, on the 
occupation of a province, to give security of 
life and prosperity to all, and to en
ure to every 
man his just rights. These are the \ ery ele. 
ments of civilisation and prosperity. 'l'llat in 
this district the gO\ernment has been suc
ful 
in accompli::.hiulr this enit, is evident from the 
incre -se of \\t,alth, revenue, and popuhtion j 
from till, clearance of many thousand acres of 
forest; from the contentcd appearance of the 
pcople; and from the cx.istence of this thriving 
town and station in a spot" here, a. fe\\ years 
ago, the voice of man \\ as not heard." 
::;urclv :UII r ::,uch words a::. thc"e, the st r.U1
ers 
who .trè brou
ht hundreds of lIules from thcir 



ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


60 [February 27, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


own homes, to assist in developin
 the resources 
of this wonderful country of India, may justly 
look for encouragement and protection. 


:/ 
:1 


POINT nLANK. 
You complain that I am narrow, 
Going straightly to my aim: 
1YiH you quarrel with the arrow 
For the same? 


l\Iany a bitter word hast thou: 
"Pedant," "bigot." Keep thy blame 
".hile that sword, and nail, and plough 
Are the same. 


I would cleaye my world-path cleanly 
'Vith :m axe', a razor' edge; 
Drive my truth through, not more meanly 
Than a wedge. 


" 


Far is wide, though force is narrow: 
Look straight to thy aim! 
Crystal, bud, and flame, and arrow, 
Are the same. 


II 
,i 


THE BLACK ART IN GRUMBLETON. 


IN my rural parish of Grumbleton, there are 
many superstitious usages, politely supposed to 
be obsolete, but in full force and full swing none 
the less, 
A lllust.V remnant of hard-baked loaf-such a 
loaf as, when it was new, no baker could have 
sold, and any beggar to whom it might have 
been given would have thrown to the rats in 
the gùtter-hangs from the ceiling of one of our 
" models." 
The invalid woman, a very spectre in a shroud 
of rags and wretchedness, will tell us the use of 
it. .Baked on Good 1!'rida.v, with a few remarks 
and mysteries by way of incantation and charm, 
it is all that remains of "the sovereign cure," 
At all events, the cure bas not been complete in 
this case. The invalid always feels the better 
for a little bit of it, but must husband it with 
great care, because it will be months before 
Good :Friday comes again, and if the charm 
were raten up, '\íhat help could she have but 
the doctor's, and the doctor-only look at her- 
has never done her any good. 
Now that confidence is established between 
us, I hear also of a "sovereign cure" for 
toothache, which has made Grumbleton almost 
indepcndent of the dentist. It appears that we 
have a wise woman among- us, who can remove 
thc pain without touching the tooth. The 
patient goes himself, or, if he is too ill, sends a 
messenger asking relief. About the time that 
the messenger finds the witch doctress, and even 
before he tells hel' his business, the pain ceases. 
If the sufferer visits her in person, words as 
mysterious to him as "Propria quæ maribus" 
are pronounced solemnly, and thrice. repeated, 
after which he experiences the blessing of faith 
in the black art. 
Although the enchantress has great power in 


Grumbleton, it is a power not to be obtained or 
bought hy mone
. Money would kill her charms, 
and, so 1 am informed, destroy her power. 
While :Mr. Home and Mr. Zadkiel possess the 
confidence of persons helonging to en.ucated 
classes, and while the law forbids us to call 
such personages by the little simple name that 
is their due, there is ground for hope that 
Grum bleton may become a resort of persons of 
fashion suffering from toothache, and may grow, 
thanks to our wise woman, into a Spa that shall 
make all the dentists grind their teeth to the 
gums for vexation. And couldn't we bake loaves 
enough on Good Friday to enable us to dispense 
with the services of the whole medical profes- 
sion! 
Catkins is now a highly respectable young 
man, though I have known him to be otherwise. 
He has a young wife and one child, and li\"es in 
another of our" models." The child was lately 
taken ill, so Catkins tells me, and adds that "no 
doctors, neither parish nor 'firmary, can cure 
him." 
I answer, that with a mother's care and nurs- 
ing the child may outf:"row the disease. 
"'l'here is a quicker way," he replies, mys- 
teriously, "if it warn't for a difficulty we are 
afraid of." 
He is going to take the child some fine morn- 
ing, before long, at sunrise, to a young ash sap- 
ling bard by. The sapling is to be split. The child 
is to be stripped. Catkins is to be permitted to 
hold the split parts of the sapling far enough 
asunder to allow his infant to be passed between 
them by the wise woman, while she repeats 
mysterious words, which either he does not 
know, or he dares not communicate. After this 
is done, the sapling will be carefully bound to- 
gether, and its \\ ound "ill be plastered with 
nmd and clay. If the tree grows, the child 
certainly recovers; if it dies, or is .cut do\\ n, 
thc disease returns, and will remain for life. 
" .And here," says Catkins, "is the deuce of it 
all. All the sticks in these parts is wanted for 
hop-poles every ten or twelve year, and the cure 
is never safe, because folks won't let 'em be and 
grow into timber." 
"How can you believe such nonsense, James 
Catkins p" 
"I doan't say I do beliere it exactly; it's a 
'speriment. If Polly gets better, I believe it; 
if the tree lives and 8he doan't, I shouldn't 
believe it no more nor nothin' at all." 
It furthrr appears that Catkins is suffering 
from a similar complaint, and he has more than 
half a mind-at all e\Tents, his old mother ad- 
vises him-to undergo the same process, but 
then he adds, as I turn away in disgust, "it's 
cutting down them hop-poles that's the mischief 
of it." 
Ilere, again, is another Yery respectable trades- 
woman, who has lost the middle finger of her 
right hand. There was a swelling. The medical 
man wished to rcmove the top to save the rest, 
and so she was persuaded to discard the skill of 
the doctor for the charms of the witch. Not- 
,,-ithstanding fomentations and poultices, which 



Cbarle. DlckeDL) 


[February 'l7, 18&-i.) 61 


AI L TIlE YEAI
 It()L
D. 


douhtle".s did some good, the wise \\oman ill her 
"isdom condemned the p.,ticnt to many d 'ys and 
ni
hts of a
ony, while portions of the bone 
came 3\\ av in little white rings. She hadn't 
cnough faith, 50 they told h
r, hut at la!,t the 
fJlJ
er healed with a hu!!e mls-!òhapen stump, a 
fitìing finger-post of Grumbletonian supersti- 
tion. 
If we arc to be told that such cases are 
failures, and that the patients are \\Ol'Se 011' than 
before, thc an,,\\ er is reaù)-it docs as much 
good as doctoring', \\ hile it costs nothing. )le- 
die.,l men Cllnnot tell how Cdses may go, evcn 
when they ha.vc uulimited control over them. 
,\ hy cxclude aid so ea!'ily attainable, which docs 
not pre\ ent you from u!oin
 the regular meùical 
or re
ular quack remedies? 
The enchantress, however, does not always 
come oil' with flying colours. A case of rheu- 
matic fcver did uot receive her especial s
 mpathy 
and heir, and the patient \\a!> inlormed that the 
wise woman h'ld he\\ itched hcr. In order to he 
set free from hcr "thrall," the daughter of the 
sick person, \\ atchillg hcr opportunity, one dav 
rushed upon the witch and contrived to scratch 
her with a brass pin from the shoulder to the 
\\fist. By drawin
 blood, the spell of 
itch- 
craft was removed, but, for some other un1..nown 
reolson, the p.ltient did not live long after- 
wards. 
'''hen 3uybody's eow is sick in Grumbleton, 
inste.ad of sendin
 to the veterindry surgeon, \\ e 
have a charm in a scaled par.er from a "O'reat 
nU'dicine" in an adjoining' vl11a
e. The cbarm 
is 1 .!:.tened on the part affectcd, and jf the cow 
does not reco\ er, she is judged unworthy to live, 
and is fortl,,\ ith sent to the butcher. 
Such is thc state of the art in Grumhleton as 
regards the llealt h of man al1d beast, m.ld can we 
not also boast of an equal Po\\ er that IS exerted 
on occasion in 
upport of law and order, a power 
\\Lich, fully developed, would do a great deal 
I to\\ards superseding our police. The other day 
therc was a robbery from one of the cotta
es of 
a few shil1in
s and a piece of bacon. Hceourse 
"as immediately had, not to the nearest police- 
man, but to the wise woman aforesaid, and 
"ith the happiest results, as will immediately 
appear. 
It was quic1..ly circulated throughout t he vil- 
lage tLat the wise woman, on being informed of 
the case, remarlcd that she "knew it afore." 
She knew \\ ho \\as the thief. And here, all 
Grumblctou trembled; but we Lreathed freely 
again on learning that "it wa!:. nobody bclongiug 
to tll(' parish." 
" \\ ould the property be rccovf'red?" was the 
ne
t quc!:.tion. .. Tha
 \\ould depend," was the 
reply, .. upon the thief. If he \\ishcd the bacon 
to choke him, or \\ hat he h:\d already eaten, as 
\\ell as thc monn, to bring upon him a disorder, 
comparc'd to \\ hich Herod's di!)ease was a trifle, 
he would continue oh::.tinate. Hut she would 
consult her oracle, and an ans\\rr would then be 
r('tulned to her, \\hich she \\ould repe,It, if per- 
mitted." '1\\0 or three days \\ere purposely 
sutrcred to clapf'c, and, before they \\ ere over, 


the owners of the lost property \\crl informed 
that, on a certain ni
ht, it would be rest,>red 
and would be found l
 ing on a stone nlar th
 
cottaf{e. Hu
c imprecations, however, WLfe 
denounced, amon
 \\ hieh blindne:!s by li
htnil Þ 
\\ as almo!>t a trifle, so terrible werr the condi- 
tions of the curse, on all who should dare to be 
present, or so much as stir out of doors on the 
evellin
 of the mysterious restitution, 
All ürulllbleton l..ept at home that niO'ht nor 
dared so much as to peep through the t';hole. 
And it is a fact that the prop{'rt
 \\ as safl:ly re- 
stored, to the joy of all Grumbletoll, and to the 

re,\t honour and renown of the \\ ise woman 
thereof. 
Uut, let me do Grumblcton justice. now- 
ever had we nldY he, in some respects, none 
of us care about ghosts. In this respect, we 
can bcar favourable comparison with any part of 
England, I have kno\\n a stout Yorlslnreman 
not eas.v in his mind at the thou
ht of passinf; 
through a churchyard on his way home at ni
ht, 
le!>t, as he candidly admitted, the spirits of one 
or t\\ 0 old fogies he never cared tv. 0 straws for 
when in the body, should" play him some un- 
rhancv prank now that they had 
ot into free 
spaef'." I remember a Cumberland minister 
not "roof-good men, I suppose, ha\ e their 
\\ eak points-against horrible anecdotes, cur- 
rent in the nejghbourhood, of misfortunes to 
those who did not make the best of their way, 
even lil.e Tam O'Shanter, across a bridr;e some 
half mile distant; and 1 lnow the boys who 
huddled tog-ether under the hedge, and mana
cd 
some ghostly howls, which by no means rc- 
tarded his pace as he ran to cross runnill!j water. 
\V orthy man, he has no m'Lliee in him, for he 
has had opportunities enough of rep:J.
 ing his 
tormentors in kind, for it is long since he was 

athcred to his fathcrs, and has rcachLd a phce, 
1 hope, \\ here nobody is afraid. 
Still, in obscure parts of the country, ,,"here 
a railway whistle bas never sounded, or till, 
daily press penetrated-terrible foes to gll< ts, 
fairies, and \\ itcheraft, arc railways 
lDd printiIJ ;' 
-numberless, still, are the apparitions re_prct- 
ably attested to, and devoutly belicf"cd in; -;0 
numerous arc they, that a solitar) ghu 
 is 
scarce worth mention, whcre every house, barn, 
and lane has its tutdary bogie, and \\here one 
may see the long funeral procession of he
dlr...s 
mourners entcr the church-porch, or issue f10m 
it, on any morC' than usually rough \\ inter'
 
night. But pass along' our ,illage at nirrht, and 

ou "ill find indications enou
h that Grumblp- 
ton, t hough it may-indeed, does-belir>,.. in 
ghosts, doesn't care a rap for allY of them. 
A story. told of our \\orth) old rec .Jr, 
Dro\\ 
e, and nef"er contradicted by him, will 
show the state of feeling on the subject. 
He was out late many year:; a
o, wind 
ho\\ ling throu1!h the trees, road,; he.,,:- ' . h 
mud and rain. horse tired anel rider tuo, I" 1 
the uight dark as pitch. \lthou
h Uron. A 
thought he knew hi:. \va
 prelt
 \\ell, Jet, "ht 
\\Ìt h the darl..nr,g, and the cro ,>.roa..."1, and the 
o\erh,mgiug' \\oods, he JIli
 ed his r\...J, and lb, 



62 [February 27, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


by bad luck, the woods ranged on either side 
for miles, there was a bad prospect before him 
-one of spending the night in them. At length, 
there tuinkled a light through the trees, and, as 
he made the best of his way to" ards it, he saw 
several more lights, and made out what was, 
doubt less, a large house full of company, to 
judge from the blaze of light from tije windows 
as he came into full view. He should, at all 
events, dismount here, and ask his ".ay. So he 
led his horse up the avenue, and rang the door- 
bell, The door immediately opened, and, before 
he well knew what he was about, as he after- 
wards said, he had stepped across the threshold. 
The entrance-hall was large and handsome, with 
a fine old oak staircase branching right and left, 
and facing the entrance. The room was hung 
round with pictures, one or two of the style of 
Holbein, and some apparently of older date, 
He found himself, to his surprise, in the pre- 
sence of some guests of the e\'ening. 
It was an abrupt unintentional intrusion, 
but there was no help for it. A venerable old 
genUeman, whom Drowse thought at first he 
had known when he was a boy, but then he 
recollected that he had been dead for years, 
stepped forward with the unsurpassed polite- 
ness of the gentleman of the old school, and, 
finding a benighted traveller who had lost 
bis way, at once proffered him hospitality. His 
horse was taken good care of, the traveller was 
brushed up a little by a couple of footmen who 
wore hair-powder, and our good parson was 
made as presentable as tbe exigencies of the 
case permitted. 
The company was numerous, and the rector 
congratulated himself on having fallen into plea- 
sant quarters. Some of the company sang beau- 
tiful old English glees and madrigals: "When 
first 1 saw your face," "Summer is a-coming in," 
"Strike it up, neighbour, with pipe and with 
tabor." "Nice folks, all of 'em," thought Drowse; 
" how well they sing!" The venerable old gentle- 
man then produced a violin, and played one or 
two of Corelli's solos, accompanied by his sister, 
who managed the thorough-bass part beauti- 
fully. Very odd it all seemed to Drowse, and 
beautiful as well as odd. Then followed a pre- 
lude and fugue of Bach's, which it would have 
delighted King J oacbim himself to have heard. 
Then came a dance between two stately old 
ladies, which \vas called a Sarabande, follo'iVed 
by another, much more lively and spirited, called 
Bourrée by the young ones, which 'Was eXplained 
to him to be a Provençal dance of the time of 
René the king. Those who did not care for 
music and dancing had a round game at cards 
in the next room, excepting" a couple of gentle- 
men in a corner, who looked, DrO\\ se thought, 
liked Church dignitaries some" hat out of their 
element, for they took very little notice of the 
company. But the great attraction was the 
music, and if the intruder learned nothing else 
by his visit, he ,,-as charmed with the composi- 
tions of the great old song and fiddle masters, 
and much wondered that he had never heard any 
of them before. 


A.t last the 
o!l1pany began to disperse. A 
carnage, contaInmg the two sisters wbo danced 
the Sarabande, was going his way, he was told, 

nd would pilot him through the wood. On 
taking leave of his host, he wished to know to 
WhOl!l he had been indebted for so pleasant an 
evemng ? The venerable old gentleman smiled 
and told his name. Dro" se started. " The 
\'ery name and form," he replied, "of an old 
friend-a great musician, ,,-ho was very kind to 
me when I \vas a boy. But he's been dead for 
years," he added. 'rhe old gentleman smiled 
again, but made no remark, beyond wishing him 
a polite and cordial adieu, and the traveller was 
soon on his .way, splashing through the mud 
after the carrIage. 
At first tl1e pace was pretty good, but his 
guides had lights and knew the road, and any 
way he must keep up with the carriage. In a 
few seconds, however, he found it well-nigh 
impossible. The trot became a gallop soon, and 
Drowse, under the impression that the horses 
in front of bim were running away, and that it 
was his duty as a clergyman to be in at the 
death, gave his horse the spur and followed at 
the top of his speed. 
The lights in front bounced up and down, the 
equipage reeled and staggered as if it 'Would 
upset every moment, but it didn't upset. Not 
so the rector. A sudden sharp turn, which the 
carriage had safely taken, tossed the luckless 
clergyman over his horse's head, How long he 
remained in this state, stunned, as he described 
it, by the fall, he never knew; but when he 
came to himself he was lying on the ground in 
the thicket, and the horse was standing quietly 
beside him. 
In the midst of his perplexity, wondering 
wbat would become of him, and shivering" with 
cold, for he was wet through, he heal
 the 
stroke of twelve from a church tower. This 
proved llÏs rescue, for by the tone of the bell he 
recognised his \vhereabouts. So he made his 
way to the neighbouring church, which was the 
means of setting him all right, as a church ought 
to be. 
Some stupid people said that our old friend 
fell asleep on horseback, tumbled off, and dreamed 
the story. As he comes of a sleepy family, there 
,,-as, perhaps, some likelihood in the surmise. 
But Drowse declared he didn't, and adds that 
he never dreamt anything in his life, except the 
night before his ,,-edding, when he dreamed he 
had lost the ring at the moment it "as wanted. 
Anyway, it is firmly believed in Grumbleton to 
this day that he spent the evening with a party 
of ghosts, who were not only innocent and harm- 
less, but hospitable and accomplished, Circum- 
stances certainly give much force to this popular 
belief, among "hich is the fact that he has 
never since been able to find that house, or met 
with any of the guests. 
Dreams have a good number of believers 
among us, bllt dreams are on a better footing 
than superstitions. That the mind should 
continue the e'{ercise of its faculties "hile its 
tenement of clay lies inert and lJlotionless, is 



[Febnmry 27, 1864.] 



 I! 


ALL TilE YEAR ItOr
D. 


Charlee Dicken..] 


no uew the('ry. Tùe belief that thoughts may 
P" a thuu
h the mind in one's sleep, and be 
ev '11 of after-use w hpn the mømory has re- 
t.,inLd tlu..m, has nolhin
, I should think, of 
the 'tupernatural in it, ho ..ver singular and 
illtere..ting it may be. When both body and 
soul arf' at "ork toO'ether, how many eon- 
tin
encics are pcculated upon as likely to 
happen, some of which, in the course of events, 
do come to pass. Once concede that the mind 
does not ahfaJs take its completc repose when 
the boùy does, and we ha\e a due to some 
wonùrrfulthin....s f01'Ctold in dreams. But, as 
Dro\\ e ,)3YS, whether in men or dogs therc 
mu t be brains, or there is little chance for the 
iI)}, "Íllution to work, either asleep or awake; 
and l'urtly believe him. 
.-\ f \ mon, super:)lifions have not much mis- 
chicf in thc.,m. We tin-kcttle our bees. 'Ve think 
it unlucky to upset thc salt; lucky to find a 
hor: shoe; and those Grumbletonians who are 
particular .,bout their nails-but the number is 
\cry small-will 011 no account pare them on a 
Fridav. 
Still a few defel1sh"c charms may bc mcntioned. 
On c"teh sidc of the stable-door, on the first of 

ray, is hunß up a birch bough, to kcep witch- 
cr.lft from the horscs. It is occasionally a bough 
of maple instead of birch. 
Old Christmas-day is most 
cl'upulously kept 
among us. Horscs must not be \\orked Oll that 
da.v, nor must women go out of doors. \\r e 
kill our pigs at the full moon; then the bacon 
" plums up," so says Grumbleton, and is lucky. 
It is lucky also for the heir who inherits from 
one dyin
 at full moon; his estatc thcn, like the 
bacon, " plums up." If death occurs \\ hen the 
moon is waning, the fortune will injure its 
inhClitor. No instance is, howcver, on record 
of an estate being refused because it fell to a 
man under such malign lunar influcnces, though 
its \\orse than worthlessness is as wcll authenti- 
cated as the belief that bacon will not cure if 
the pig is killed after full moon. One instance, 
rather descriptive of the nature of the vipcr than 
adding much to Grumbleton superstition, may be 
suhjoined. 
1\\0 or thrce country fellows intcntly examin- 
ing a viper, cut in h\o by the scythe of the 
mower. 
" Can't read that 'erc," says one. 
"l\.noW's the English of it, anyway," sa)s 
another. 
c, Wh"tt's the matter, my lads ?" 
I hercupon am informed that the motlled 
part of the dying reptilc consists of writing in 
an unknown tongue. 
The translation is kno
 n to my infol1lant, 
md 
is as follo\\s: 


If I could hear as well as see, 
Xu man or beast sbouhl p
 by me. 


Kow comes the question, \That harm is there in 
all this strong popular belief? "Superstition, 
and acts of superstition, C:UlDOt ele\ate, but 
: I debase the mind." So said the good Dr. 


Arnold. The remark is just, and it is one that 
others beside Grulllbletonians might not be worse 
for rclllemberin.... 
It is a singu(ar fact, and one which. in this 
great educational period, is worth attention, that 
our rural poor are not more enlightened than 
the parishlOners of Sclborne were in Gilbert 
Whitc's time, a century ago. In '" hite's 
chapter of the SuperstitiolU of Selborne may 
be found an instance nearly identical with that 
furnished by Catkins in thi! year of grace 1864. 
The only differences bctween the two cases are, 
that the incantation is performed at sunset 
instead of sunrise, and that there i! no mention 
of witches or hop-poles. 
l' or are our peasautry better than their 
fathers \\ ith regard to super
titious actions. 
But for the strong arm of the law, the land 
\\ould be full of them. A poor deaf and dumb 
Frenchman, "ho had taken refuge in a country 
village in Essex, was but recently ùone to death 
by thc process of swimminß him for a wizard. 
The poor creature kissed tbe hand of one who 
would have saved him, but could not. It was 
the only sign of gratitude in his powcr to make. 
It was the mute appeal for the help of a fellow- 
mortal at the merey of a brutal mob. The 
appeal made in an enlightened age aud country 
proved ineffectual, and ignorance and brutality 
destroycd their victim. 
Acts of superstition, even when apparently of 
small importance, whethcr fashionable or un- 
fashionable, should be scorned and rejected on 
the ground of their debasin
 influence. 'lay- 
fair, just now, cannot ail'ord to Bucer at 
Grumbleton. 


HO
IE DI:KNERS. 


AT the head of the table of the arts and 
sciences, let us place with becoming dignity, the 
science or t he art of social dining. Theoret ical 
and practical text-books issue every month from 
the press for thc use of students, but the study 
itself wants a name as great as its importance. 
The Greeks, who took the chief mcal of their 
day at our now customary e\"ening dinner-hour, 
gave it the most dignified of names, as "to 
Ariston "-the Best. Whoevcr preparcd dinncr 
"as said in thcir languRoIY'C to Do his Best. "\, ho- 
c\ er receivcd another to dinncr was said to 
aristizc, or make-thc-best-of him. Dinner-time 
\\ as the Best IIour, aud a dinner companion was 
Sj naristos, a fellow-at-the-ßest. So let us, if \\c 
want a long \\ord, give to the science of fellow- 
ship in din.ing all the dignity of six-sJl1dbled 
Greek, and call it Synaristology. GolStronomy, 
which is, by interpretation, paunch-law, looks 
no further than the pots and kettles, and we are 
a long way ahead of Epicurus. Synaristolo
y 
is the art of comradeship in the best meal, by 
maling the best of one's self, the best of onc's 
friends, and the best of onc's t'ictuals. 
Let us undcrstand clcarly, too, that this is an 
universal science, or at best a science common 
to all men 
 ho 1m e bread to break. Let us 



64 


[February 27, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUKD. 


scout and despise the miserable notion of one 
fixed exalted form of conventional dinner-party, 
to which all must yield themselves, or resign 
hope that they may "e\"er dare to divide mutton 
with a friend. It is a deadly heresy that has 
been on the increase of late, and has been setting 
up the comentional for the real standard of 
bospitality in house after house. 'The result is, 
that at this day many a genial man of moderate 
income, who is at once sensible and sensitive, 
will not attempt to do what he cannot do well; 
and because he dares not defy the conventional 
heresies, does violence to his inclinations, and 
asks to his house no dinner-gnests but those who 
are content to share his customary meal. Other 
men, equally genial but less sensitive, do not 
flinch from the dinner of compromises with 
wbich English society is too familiar. They ask 
their friends to swallow the greengrocer-butler, 
the cheap "ines of an expensive sort, the ill- 
made sauces, and the lukewarm entremets 
with ambitious names: lumps of spoilt food 
horribly unlike anything that a sane man wit.h a 
healthy stomach would, of his O\Yll free chOIce, 
on any day of the year, sit down to eat. Enough 
of this: Let us be sociable, let us be liberally 
festive, but let us be honest withal, and let each 
man give in bis own way, and according to his 
taste and means, his own best welcome to his 
friend. 
Dr. Johnson was sound in his distinction when 
he said of a dinner lJe had eaten that it was "a 
good dinner enough, but not a dinner to ask a 
man to," but the vulgarly polite interpretation 
of "a dinner to ask a man to" is not at all 
sound. Let us see how this is. Aristology, or 
the science of Dinner-fellowship, sets out, as we 
have said, with the three postulates, that it calls 
on a man to make the best of himself, and of 
his friends, and of his victuals, In a conven- 
tional dinner, even where the victuals are of the 
best, the third of these conditions has not been 
fulfilled. The mind of the host is not in the 
feast he has spread. If the courtesy also be 
II formal, or if the show of cordiality towards 
II only one guest be insincere, if there be one man 
: , I with his legs under the mahogany whose pre- 
sence is not really wanted, but who has been 
asked to dinner by reason of some conventional 
sensc of necessity, then we say of such a ban- 
quet, let the cooks who made it, eat it. There 
is a fly in the pot. 'fhe dinner stinks, and we 
will none of it. It is true that there are some 
I of us so unhappily situated that we think our- 
II selves obliged, and perhaps are obliged, to ask 
,I people whom we do not care for to formal 
II dinners. For such conventional guests the con- 
I .entional is the fit form of dinner. The victual- 
ling of these discordant guests is like buying or 
selling on 'Change-a pure matter of business; 
and as stockbrokers, merchants, and tradesmen 
formularise all methods of business transaction 
because they find it convf:nient in commerce to 
lúde their individualities behind phrases ap- 
pointed to express all customary wants and 
relations of their business life, so may ,ye for- 
mularise our dinners whenever they "are mere 
d 


matt", of debtor and creditor account, as now II 
nnd then they must be. But as the merchant 
"hen he converses with his private friends chops 
the st.vlc of his business intercourse, so should 
the host, when he is at home with his true friends 
about him, abjure the vain repetitions of the 
heat hcn, and delight to give a dinner like himsfl{ II 
For, we may reckon it the first great la" .in 
Synaristology that the dinner itself should be 
honestly individual. The / erfect host is bound 
to put his mind into it, an make it accord in the 
best manner with his means, his taste, or any 
special opportunity he may bave of setting 
forth in the most pleasant manner, one, or a fe,y, 
or many, of the meats and drinks that are best 
after their kind.. Let us give to the right form 
of English social dinner a right English name, 
and call it a Home Dinner. By asking a man to 
a family dinner, it is understood already that we 
ask him to share the ordinary dinner of the 
household. The conventional dinner-party that 
we know too well, let us lcave henceforth to the 
uses it will always have in the mere commerce 
of society. But let us mean by a Home Dinner, 
a domestic festival for thosè whom the host 
knows, or desires to know, as his real friends or 
well-liked acquaintances, and in whose company 
he means to make the best of himself, of them, 
and of his victuals. 
He will not make the best of himself if his 
dinner be in any way a sham. Hc mnst fairly 
and fearlcssly proportion its cost to his means. 
This he must not do as one who pinches himself 
and his household in private that once a year, or 
oftener, by a strained effort that gives pleasure 
to nobody, he may afford to make his dinner- 
table a coarse imitation of the table of a duke; 
his board must be spread as that of one who 
likes often to see his best friends about him, and 
who, without discomfort to himself, knows how, 
whenever thcy come, to entertain them well. The 
scale of the Home Dinner being, then, in the first 
place, honestly proportioned to the income of 
the host and hIS resources, the indispensable 
condition of its plan is that everything of which 
it consists shall be of its kind the hest. If the 
best quality of costly wines be too expensive, 
then those wines must not have their names 
taken in vain at the Home Dinner. There are 
wholesome and excellent wines of less cost, and 
of one or two of these the best quality should 
very carcfully be chosen. If possible, let there 
be no mutton but fonr year old, no bcef but 
Highland bred. In short, the Home Dinner is to 
mean, whatever its degree of costliness, a sincere 
welcome, hearty intercourse, and meats and 
drinks, however modest their character and 
small their variety, pleasantly set forth, each 
the best after its kind. Let all assent to this, 
and there is an end to a legion of social 
nuisances. 
As the world now runs, friendship, based upon 
like-mindedness rather than upon like-moneJ ed- 
ness, is constantly arising between men of very 
different degrees of income. Tomkins has two, 
three, four, live, six, seven, or eight hundred a 
year and a family; Wilkins has fifteen hundred 


I' 


II 


II 
I 



Cl 


If LIe! en.. 


ALL TIlE YE.\n. gOeXD. 


[I bl1Ul.r1 ';', I. ....] G5 


a ) ear .11\(1 no f.\luily. '1', m)(l \\. arc firm 
fli,nds. T. lIIay dinl- \\ilh ,\,' but l(\ols in 
\ .Iin for till.. gn..1 t sati...factioll nf . ing his 
fricnd W.... t(\(' I on his 0\\ II fend('I'. .For if T. 
of the 8f'VCn or ej(
ht hundred ..llOuld a::.l W. to 
dinner, W.'s reflection is: .. I like '1'., but I do 
not ]ikc bad melted butt r. Be \\ ill give me 
t hc convent ional thin as a m('
 I; [ 
hall bc 
I dcli\'ereJ into the hand; of a 
ccl.JlIl]-ratc pa
tJy- 
cook, and do:>ed by the gr{'('n
roeLr \\ith )[oët 
at forty shillin
s a dozdl. I h.n e a heart, but 
I ]u\\ (' also a 
tomach." I
ct him be sure that 
t he difference of lIIeans wili applar ouly in thc 
IOß(><'t shape of a 
illlplcr dinner, involving 
no e"..tly strain after the unattainahle, but 
nCH'rtheless pCI fect after its kind, and Willins, 
oJld to dine \\ith his fliend Tomkins, may fiud 
tlUlI he dines belter \\ it h him than c\'cn at t II{' 
Cf ..>tly banquct
 of hi
 Grace the JJisLop of Ry- 
pophagon. 
Onc ditliculty only stands in thc way of a 
tl1umphant success tor this Home Dinner sys- 
tcm. The ma
ter and the mistrcss of a house 
may havc gathcred Bowcrs to adorn their fea::.t, 
have been at pains to select the 
hoieest of its 
kind for the material of C\ ery dish, but how arc 
thcy to seeurc all agaiu::.t thc mi::.hap of a dirty 
sauccpan, thc stupidity or inattcntion of a cook 
\\ ho has no soul for the dc]ieacies of her art? 
It is tme that the Home Dinner S) stem, even 
\\ hcn it breaks do\\ n, is all abated e\ i], for 
"herc thc cool. is not faithful o\:cr a fe\\ things, 
bow shall 
he be faithful O\.er many? Where 
the prineip]c of action is to work \\ ithin limits 
proportiOlH'd to the resourccs of the house and 
Its master for the utmost attainable perfection 
of result, the cook "hosc encrgies arc not un- 
reasonably taxed is put upon her mettle, and if 
she be made of orùinary flesh and blood, the 
very best" ork of \\- hich she is capable \\ ill be 
O'ot out of her. Bad is usually the best if 
he 
hc let a]one; for thc eook, e\'en when shc has 
been taught by practice to reproduce a certain 
number of preparations of food wit hout spoiling 
them \ cry much, and \uites herself "thorough 

ood" in the advertisemcnb, has not been 
tr.1Ïncd to think, and is ignorant of thc first 
principles of \\ hat is, in fact, a strictly iutellec- 
tual employment. l3cfore \\c can refurm our 
cooks, \\ e must reform a million or 1\\ 0 of our 
mistresses, and restore among thclll the old 
genius for household government in all its 
branches. It is because the uatura] quccn of 
the household has either droppcd the reins of 
its governmcnt, or becomc lax of rulc, that scr- 
vants now-a-da
 s claim absencc of over
i
llt as 
if it \\ere their right, and resent an) gcntle at- 
tcmpt that may be made to "teach thcm their 
bu::.iness." ] t concerns a grcdt many higher 
things than thc production of good dinuer.s th.
t 
this should not be 
o. :Ko degrec "hatever of 
r.lllk or wcalth should be held to rc]e.lse the 
mi
tre
s of a household from fulfilment of thc 
duties of her govcrnmcnt. Thc nobler the lady, 
the morc elevating should be the contact \\ ith 
her mind, \\ hich is the just right of all \\ ho furm 
part uf her household. 


8 nncthing of t hi
 i
 at thc ftJUt of the arr;u- 
II1cnt of an cnthu ia"tic 
ntlCll1dn \\ hlJ has a 

h'on!; \\ ay of spLaking \\ hoh ,{)me trutJl:3, and 
\\ ho has writtcn a couple of \\ arm-blooded little 
blmks, (
ntit Icd "The Gentle\\ oll1au," and 
"Dinncrs and Dinncr Partif's" (publi::.hcd by 
'le
.:>rs. Chapmdll and 11.111). The lkr;i"trdr- 
Gcneral, he ..ays, tells us that only onp \\oman in 
twche, and only one man in five, dics leaving 
property, and \\hat is lelt, except the great 
\\ c
lth of a fcw, is of small a\ crage amount. 
1\c\'crthcle s, up\vards of twcnty millions of 
moncy arc anuually "a
tcd in this country, 
throu
'h \\ant of a proper knowlcdge of the \\ ay 
to de
1 \\ ith food. Our fO)al princesbes ha\'c rc- 
cei vcd ]e"sons in model kitchens, hm e hccn taught 
to \\ eigh out stores, and e\-cn to make bread 
and ehurn butter. 
rany ladies of the Eng]i
h 
nubility, and more on the Continent, ha\ e main- 
taincd the old cu
tom of attendiug personally 
to the supcrintendence of thcir household, and 
such ladies in
pire \\ ith their intelligcncL the 
action of their cooks. In Canada the ladies 
play, aud 
ing, dance, ride, slate, oftcn drc wcll 
read and good linguists, while thcy know at the 
samc time how to make good bread, and cales, 
and jellies, and how to rear poultry. Conse- 
queutly, they gi\ e to homc more of the cheer 
of ordcr and nicct), \\ it 1.1 the help of a single 
sermnt girl, than one is accustom cd to find in 
the hou::.ehold of an Eu ï r,lish couple with thrce 
servants. At Xcres dc .\ :Frolltcra, the author 
of this plea for a graceful homcline
 among' 
the English gcntle\\omcn of all cIa _C3, dined 
with a 
panish grandee, whosc wife showcd 
him "ith pride the light luxurious kitchen in 
which she herself had attcnded not only to thc di- 
rection but also to thc manipulation of the dinner, 
and, he adds, "it 'leas a dinner." Thc gentle- 
woman who adds to her accomplishment a first- 
rate knowlcdgc and tact in the direction of the 
duties of the kitchen is mi!!tn...ss, hc sa)s, not 
quite untruly, of an art equal to that of the 
phy
iciall; "a noble art it is; it is a s\\ectener 
uf temper, it is tbe 
weetener of life, it pro- 
longs life. It is a fdr noblcr art to be able to 
pre(Jare that \\ hich shall agree \\ ith thc deliedte 
organisation of the human frame, than the art 
\\ bich is emplo) ed to get rid of the injurious 
effects of b
d cookinó." If JOu mix dirt with 
) our coal yon dull thc firc in your grate, and if 
you mix dirt \\ ith your food )OU dull, sa) s this 
apostle of clean lad) like coolery, the fire of life 
\\ithin your bodies, or thosc of )our friends. Of 
course, then, \\ e have here a \\ riteI' \\ 110 agrces 
\\ ith us thoroughly in deprcc.\tion of diuners 
that, by help of a pastryeook, affect magnifi- 
cence bcyond thc giver's mcans. " 1\0, no," he 
cries, "thcrc i
 no dinncr ]ilc un honest dilU1er 
fur a party of ei!)ht or 1\\ch.c out of a model 
litchcn-it is cnJoJUlent instead of burIe que, it 
is friendship in
tt:dd of deceit." 
And the model kitchen is an ceonomv, Dot an 
extra\agance, for in the IOD
 run e]eañline
s is 
always eheapcr than dirt. 'fhe poor gentlcman 
"hose \\ ife is slilleJ in hou
ehohl Jutv "ill 
malc e\ cry scrap of food pleasant and \\ ho]e- 


II 



] I üG 


[I,ebruary ::?;, 1864,] 


ALL THE YEAR ROU
D. 


[Conducted by 


II 


some. " She opcncth her mouth" ith wisdom, 
and in her tongue is the law of kindne::,s. She 
looketh well to the ways of her household, and 
eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children 
arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, 
and he praises her." 
The model kitchen, described by the author 
of these little books, needs no immense range, 
devouring tons upon tons of coal. In it, a good 
dinner is cooked to thc moment, at the cost of a 
few pence for fucl. It is established in any 
small room, handy to the dining-room; that 
room, for example, whjch a doctor, if he occu- 
pied the house, would make his surgery; and 
everyt hing' it contains is absolutely clean. The 
yery cloths used in it are "ashed at home in 
clean water, with soda only, and without contact 
with yellow soap. The stewpalls are bright; 
the dozen saucepans of each required size, from 
the butter saucepan to that ".hich is large enough 
to simmer an aitchbone of beef, are of fireproof 
I porcelain; and cookery is achieved also in porce- 
, lain dishes that come, with their contents un- 
cooled, direct to the dinner-table. There is in one 
corner of this kitchen, a china sink large enough 
to soak a ham, with water laid on, and a tap 'to 
let it off. 1Vhere gas cannot be had, the Ame- 
rican stove is used; but in tonns wherc gas is 
laid on, the model cooking stove should be a gas 
stove, to which t he heat can be applied and regu- 
lated at discretion, without waste, with but slight 
increase of the temperature of the room, anrl- 
not the least consideration-with the utmost 
possible saving of wa
te in the meat. In such 
11 home-kitchen, under the skilled care of a lad" 
the cold mutton reappears as a delicacy, pipili g 
hot; and the simple dinner of beefsteak and 
summer cabbage is set on the table of the thrifty, 
cooked to perfection, and so hot that a cold plate 
is almost welcome. Let not the housewife take 
fright at the mention of porcelain àishe5 and 
saucepans. Such cooking utensils are now made 
at Dresden, and used very generally 011 the Conti- 
nent. They ,vill not, it is true, bear any kitchen- 
maid's rough battering about; but m;ed by gen- 
tlewomen and by well-trained handmaids, the, 
may last for ever, while thc use of them geCs 
rid of all the labour and dirt of imperfect pot- 
scouring. 
There can be no doubt that the use of 
ladies' kitchens, each fitted with an American or 
gas-stove, and furnished upon some such plan as 
this, ",ould, in the first place, tend greatlv to 
the promotion of frugality, and to the<-bettëring 
of cooks. The mistress of the household would 
not only teach by precept and example, but 
would excite curiosity and emulation. Her little 
laboratory",ould be ã school of nicety and clean- 
lincss, and the whole house would reap the benefit 
of its teachings: while no cook could stand long 
in defence of the old ground of ignorant and 
negligent routine in face of the results she 
would be seeinf; constantl.v produced b.V the 
application of a little study and carc to her art. 
I And there can be no doubt that, in the second 
I, place, where the mistress thus skilfully gives 
her mind to the entertainment of her guests, 
!I 


and is not ashamed of her per::,onal interest 
in the results of her own foresight, but, on 
the contrary, is proud to have it kno" n that 
this or that well-contrived dish ha", been the 
work of her 0" n hands, the Home Dinner is 
most surely to be enjoyed in its perfection. 
Such a mistress is usually the one who can 
!llake the piano sing, while her neighbour, who I 
 I 
IS ashamed of household dutv, onlv Leats and 
tortures it. It is the thorough ho;sewife who, 
at the head of the table which her skill has fur- I 
nished ",ith the best of fan', knows how to 
bring' a cheerful heart and a 
ound cultivated 
intellect to the ele\ ation of the table-talk about 
her: while her neighbour, ",ho is ashamed to be 
thought capable, and is grossly incapable, of 
household duty, can only produce minced com- 
mon-places upon the emptiest topics that happen 
to be accounted fashionable by the politer sort 
of addle-pates. 
A\"\av, then, we sav again, with the whole 
grea
y 'indigestible shawm of conventional dinner- 
parties, aping a style incollsistent wit h the natural 
means of the giver. I.Jet us substitute for it 
the Home Dinner everswhere, honest and cha- 
racteristic. 11'ho would not exchange a preten- 
tious mess, diluted with counterfeit wines, for a 
hot well-cooked chop, a mealy potato, and a 
glass of Bass or Allsopp? Let the Home Dillner, 
of course, so far exceed the daily fare of the 
house giving it, as to express with a rig'ht gene- 
rosity the hospitable mind. But while the 
material expenditure is held modestly within 
its just and honest bounds, let the e'{penditure 
of thought be without stint. If ladies studied 
cookery as their foremothers did, there would be 
no house without its individual recipes and ori- 
ginal dishes. Some housewives" ould be famous 
for one thing, some for another, and the plague 
of sameness would soon vanish from our enter- 
tainments. 
What constant variety may, without e"\.trava- 
gance, be introduced into the ordinary meals 
of a household, is partly shown in a capital 
new housekeeper's book called Cre-fydd's Family 
Fare. It gives a rang'c of varying brea}"fasts 
and dinners for e\'ery day in the year, and adds 
a store of recipes to show how evcrything that 
is mentioned is to be prepared. Such a book 
\\ ould carry any housewife, resolved to become 
pleasantl.v skilled, as she ought to be, in culinary 
lore, far on her way. But the great end for her 
to achieve, is such an acquaintance with prin- 
ciples, and such familiarity with the best-known 
combinations in the cookeryoffood, as will enable 
her to run alone. Her aim should be to work 
as the skillet! physician works when he has gone 
throngh hospital training, by individual tact 
and intelligence applied to every case. Let it 
be her ambition to find three hundred and sixty- 
five ways of treating a rumps teak, all of them 
better than the simple use of the gridiron. For, 
if she can do that, she will deserve to have her 
name inscribed by that of Shakespeare, and to 
lwve some day her tercentenary kept with a great 
Home Dinner, to which all England shall sit 
down without quarrelling, everything set forth 



CI rll'llJ.
_eD..) 


ALL THE YEAH. I
()LT
n. 


beinq (,f the bl.. t, and eVCT body at till 
r(,1t 
round table mal..in
 the b' -for a "ondeA'-of 
himself and of hi nl.ighbour. 


F
-\R
llKG BY STEAM. 


By the help of railways, the callinrs of the 
farmer and the merchant, in district
 within 
easy reach of some of the great town
, arc 
now united, This fact is beginning to tell hard 
on some of the ten1nt-farmers "ho depend en- 
tirely 011 the produce of their lands for li\ elihood. 
The lo
 :t and cro!.!!es incidental to the f,lrm arc 
borne by the merchant.farmer "ith a resignation 
not common among country peoplc. He has &een, 
in the oscillations of commerce, lar:
er sums lost 
or \\on b,' a single stroke, than !lis crop and 
stock could make in a whole year; so he ha.:. 
leamt to tale hi" rcbufi'& quictly, At the same 
time, he i... keen at a bar
ain, and there is no 
waste allowed on hi.. establishment. When he 
bas reckoned up the amount to be provided for 
rent; his rent-charge commutation in lieu of 
tithes; his land tax, poor ratcs, bad hay, mouldy 
grain, disc'1scd cattle-and a dozen obstinatc and 
ugly facts which could be so dwelt upon as to 
make t he old original British fanner a prophet of 
woe in the marlct-place for fiftJ-t"o weeks every 
year-this new farmer eonsolcs himself, \\hen a 
few hundreds are on the wrong side of his farm 
accounts, \\ ith the reflection that they only re- 
present the cost of relaution from the cares of 
businc"'I. Therefore he will go on sellin
 bi& 
bacon at si
pence when it cost him a shilling a 
pound, and butter at fourteenpence which a care- 
ful calculation proves to ha\e cost him half-a- 
cro\\ n. His chickens, ducks, and turke
 s, are 
almost a success. He c:m rear them v. ithin a 
I triflc of what he could buv them for in the meat 
I market, aftel' he has had ihc pleasure of seeing 
, them run about, and of hearing them cackle ana 
I crow" extra parliamentary utterances." 
"herevcr such men bring their wealth into 
the farmer's ncighbourhood, the farmer v. ho 
is dependent on his land for bread cannot sustain 
their competition. "Tbatever may be the ulti- 
mate tendency of this disturbing influence on 
agriculture, its earlier results do not at prescnt 
tend to improve the position of the poorer class 
of farmers. 
But slill and enterprise are now brought into 
action by our merchant-agriculturists. The, 
will have the best machinery; and, though å 

ood many implements pro,"C uselcss, they'bear 
the ('
pense of practical tri"tl; poorer men" ait 
and learn from them whcn the inventor's effort 
reaIly produces a saving of time, labour, and 
outlay. It would be idle now to speak of stcam 
as an e
periment, when all the men who are at 
the head of their profec;siou look on it as in- 
dispensable upon the farm. It males its way 
quietly but surely. The old plough, that lazily 
scratched its one furrow, is g-iven up fur au im- 
plement which passes bri
kly 0\ er the ground, 
and turns up in its pro
ress three furro\\s, or 
e'cn more, at e\ery passage. The wheat, 


7 I 
b.lrlf \, be pc, and oats, arc expt:UI lOt.. Iy II 
tlu.."ued out on a th,e autumn (h- ac orúin
 to 
d(ulRud, and there is no more flail work, hv\"- 
('\ II handy the flmlmay h,lvf' been of old as I.J cu- 
pat ion for the men in \\et and bO:oterous w 
I ere 
\, ith influence J of thi:t kind, the education und 
manners of the tenantry have really kc.l)t pace. 
Some timc' as-o a shre\\d \uiter spoke of ueh 
fdrmers as men to whom their c-randldthers would I 
hwe taken off their bats; and no one who remem- 
bers some of their grandfathers, and has visited 
the Hoyal Agricultural Society's show-yard, or I 
meetings of the local associations, or the corn I 
and cattle markets in our better-farmed di
tricts, I' 
will dispute t he truth of such a saying. That 
Dlany are still la
ging behind their day is true 
of e\ery clac;s of lIIen. 
The prefcnt tendency of farming- is, however, 
to the use of capital upon large I,mns. 
Iany 
small farmers must be, sooner or later, dri\'en 
from the field. The change may be, and should 
be, slow. Already some landowners who ha\'c 
numerous small farms appear to be expecting 
and endeavourin
 to defer the full accomplish- 
ment of such a chan
e. At an important county 
meeting recently held in the north of England, 
it was su!!!!ested that a certain num ber of tenants 
should ullIte and form a company for purchase 
and use of st.eam machinery. The plan remains 
to be tried, and is open to criticism. Gi\ en 
any ten men with 
mall holdin
 and a steam- 
engine for their common use: each f.irmcr will 
\\:1.nt to thr:l.:>h his grain so as to sell to the best 
ad\ antaf!e, even if he resign thc use of the steam- 
en
ine on other occasions to his neighbour. On 
arable land the ele, erest and most enterprising 
man of the ten will win. He will witb equal 
conditions out-general the nine, buy their ma- 
chinery, and reut their land. The remains of 
the company "ill descend a step in the social 
ladder, and become in name what they are now 
in fact-farm labourels. The practice of hiring 
machinery by the job is common in some coun- 
ties, but the farmer in that case seldom bas the 
use of it on the da)s most convenient and pro- 
fitable to himself. The capitalist who owns the 
steam power, aud land enough to leep it "ell 
employed, has still the larger and the surer 
profits. 
On dairy farms, where wife aDd family assist 
in the c:ue and management of three or four 
cows, or even on fruit lands, where the same 
help is available, the conditions of a li,'elihood 
may remain much as they are at present. \.t 
all events, changes in store for them are too 
remote to need present attention. 
One chief occupation for many of the small 
tenant-farmers" ho are now, it is to be feared, 
bein
 forced into a false position by the new 
agenls at work on t he farm, "ill be that of farm 
hailiffs. Such men are conversant with prac- 
tical details, and trush\Orlhv. It is true that 
men are born to a wholcWme discipline of 
trouble, and must find thf"ir level in the world 
in the naturdl pro
ress of aff.úrs, But it is mut 
honour.lble of those landowners who "ould de- 
\ i
e some means for protectll1g families, long 


[h 


-y I,) 


.] 



ALL THE YEAll ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


6S [February 27, 1861.] 


scttled on their cstatcs, from hurt by changes 
\\hich, however iuevitable, it is the duty of all 
to make, as far as possible, simply beneficent. 
If there be truth in this belief, then the new 
ways opened to improvement of the position of 
farm labourers will be found worthy of special 
and generous consideration. These useful mem- 
bers of the community "ill be more than ever a 
class by themselves, and as the work \\ ill, there- 
fore, be better done, the country win, undcr the 
known principlc of "each man to his 1 rade," be- 
come the gainer. The farm labourer has, indeed, 
means of raising his position abore the point he 
bas hitherto attained. The ditliculty is to con- 
vince him of it, aud make him his own frimd. 
Assistance may be afforded him, information 
lllay be offered, good legislation may be substi- 
tuted for that which a r pears unsound; but, after 
all, we cannot compe him to better himself any 
more than he can force his horses to drink after 
taking them to water, Lct us give him all fail' 
means of bettering his lot.. And let us keep the 
stream of his life pure as we may. 
.Whatever be the difference of wages to farm 
labourers-and the range is considerable-the 
average payment throughout the country is, we 
are told, ele"ren-and-fourpence a week. An in- 
dustrious man, in good health, can, with the' help 
of his household, earn enough honestly to main- 
tain himself, his wife, and family, with much 
about the same struggle in one part of Eng-Iand 
as another. Therefore, we need not go into any 
question of comparison of those who have cheap 
fuel, gardens, low rent, permission to keep a 
pig, and nine shillings a week wages, with others 
who live in expensive districts where every perch 
of land is wanted by a farmer, paying nearly 
double the amount in cash wages, but adding to 
theel fcw perquisites or pickings. 
Keither is the average day's work of ten 
hours too much for an able-bodied countryman. 
It may be noted that tlle steam-engine compels 
a fair day's work for a fair day's wages, and the 
I'eaping-machine has done much to discourage 
strikes for increase of wages among the reapers, 
at the critical junct.ure of a ripe crop and a 
sunny moming. Generally, also, now 1hat pre- 
judice is adjusting itself to the new phase of 
farming life, there is a better and more social 
feeling bctween the workmen on the farm, 
which is a pleasure and a gain to men and 
masters, 
nut what we said years since of the unfcnced 
factory machinery, it is to a certain degree ne- 
cessary to repe3.t of the use of steam-en
ines 
among the farmers. Enough has not yet been 
done to SEcure farm labourers against accidents 
arising from machinery. So long ago as the 
meeting of the Royal Agricultural Societ.y at 
Chester, in 1858, the danger was thus pointed 
out in the judges' report in a rather alarming 
manner: 
"On entering the show-yard at Chester, the 
yisitor's direct path to the stock and implements 
lay through an avenue of steam-engines, ueatly 
arran3ed at equal distances, their fly-wheels in 
(perpetual) motion, presenting a vcry animated 


scene; but what would have bcen the effect 
produced on the visitor's nerves had he kno''rn 
that three of these en
ines were liable to burst 
at. any moment.? It IS hardly necessary to say 
t hat the stewards, on being informed by one of 
the judges of this serious fact, immediately or- 
dered their fires to be extinguished; and the 
police had strict injunctions to remove any man 
from the show-yard who should attcmpt to get 
steam up in a dangerous engine," 
There may have been reasons for limiting tIle 
action of the Society to protecting visitors to 
its own show-yard, but a danger to the farm 
labourer, thus deliberately foreshadowcd, ought 
surely to have been met and averted. Yet no 
legislative interference appears to have been 
attempted, and that which was threatened has 
come to pass. 
In the course of the recent harvest, fatal 
accidents 1m, e occurred by the bursting of such 
engines. In one case, at Plaxtol, in Kent, 
where a life was lost, skilled evidence was given 
before the coroner, to the effect that the plate 
which burst was" decomposed generally." 
Another fatal accident, in which two lives 
were lost, happened from the same cause at 
Clearsficld, in Suffolk. 'fhe agricultural society 
of the county has ill consequence, it is said, 
passed a resolution under which the association 
recommends the appointment of a competent 
engineer as "inspector of such motors." The 
inspection is proposed to be made at least half- 
yearly, at a certain fixed payment per engine, to 
be shared between the O\\llers and the society. 
The inspector is further to examine every 
"engine driver" as to his fitness, and will certify 
his fitness, and authorise him to wear a badge 
in testimony of the same when at work. 
The danger of bursting is certainly not likely 
to decrease as such machines become old; and, 
unless measures of precaution be taken before 
next harvest, we may fairly expect a further 
waste of human life. The rccommendation of 
the Kentish jury is surely worth the attention 
of parliament. Why should it not be made 
somebody's duty to proviùe generally that se- 
curity which the county of Suffolk is already 
striving to obtain for her own farm labourers? 
Engine-driving, as it is caned, would thus 
become, as it should be, a distinct occupation, 
by which a higher rate of pay in one new occu- 
pation for the better class of farm labourer 
would be obtaincd. But it is a notorious evi], 
that a common farm labourer, who knows no 
more of the steam-engine than he does of loga- 
rithms, should be entrusted with its manage- 
ment. Such men are painstaking, and \\ ith in- 
struction would, no doubt, qualify themselves 
for the duty. 'fe asked one of them recently 
why he was not at work on the engine? His 
reply was: "Well, sir, 1 thought she was 
getting vcry old, and, if she blowed up, my Re- 
putation would he hloo;\ ed up \\ ith her"-he 
ùid not think 3.bout his life-u so I came 
along home." I 
The class of aceidcnts on farms is fast coming II 
to resemble those in mills: lo::,s of fingers or 



Cbarles L 011 ] 


ALL TIlE YEA It ItOUXD. 


toes, or haply an arm, by the machine. If wc 
euter a shed of one of the 
oeicty's shows, 
where the cl\
ines are at play, and the different 
machinery now introduced on farms is on the 
\\ hid, the wonder is that accidents arc not more 
common. 


I 
I O:'J FLUE! 
TIlE recent terrible catastrophe in Santiago 
I reeals \ ividly to lilY millli one of the most ex- 
i I tr,lOrdill.try adventures of my ehequered life. 
.Five-and-t\\enty years a
o, I was captain of 
: I the Nort hem Li!;ht, a large schooner trading 
I between Hull anti. St. Petersburg. A long ac- 
quaintance with the vicissitudes of the ltu
sian 
! climatc l1ad made me somewhat reekh-ss. The 
I. consequence was, that one 30th of October 1 
I I found my vessel light loeled iu ice, 1 had 
stayed a \\eek too long, in my eagerness to 
I, take a full cargo of timber, and I was justly 
I punished for my temerity: a prisoner till the 
I middle or end of April, far away from my friends, 
and doing \\hat a livery-stahle-keeper "ould call 
cc eating my own head off." 
Being, however, of a sanguine tempera- 
ment, and having no wife at home to be 
anxious about, I resolved to make the best of 
it, and enjoy myself as well as I could. I saw 
all the si
hts of St. Pctersburg, from Peter the 
Great's wooden house down to the ,[ 'unmoth. 
I visited Moscow. I went bear-hunting. 1 
drove about in sledges. I fell in love anù fell 
out again. Nor did I neglect business. I fre- 
II quentIy attended the Exchange, and made 
myself known to the chief tallo\v, bemp, aud 
timber merchants. I studied Russian com- 
merce. I arranged for cargoes for two years 
to come. The Anglo-Uussians .are very hospit- 
able, and, tbanks to the kmdness of 1.11', 
I Anderson, the English banker, my botel ex- 
penses werc ,,'ery small. :My fur coats were my 
chief expense; they cost me a large sum thrn; 
I but I reckoned that they would last me my life, 
I and so they bare-at least, I wear them to this 
dav. 
Ne\crthcless,I pined for the hour of liberty. 
An idle life did not suit a man of my tempera- 
ment-one who had been at sea ever since he 
was twelve years old. Like all sailors, I was 
I ah\ a
 s grumbling against thc sea, and yet I 
was nefcr happy a\\ay from it. At last the 
order of my release came. The ice 011 the 
Neva, opposite the Custom-house especially, 
began to melt into thin bars an inch or so wide. 
It became dan
erous to venture on it, except 
where it was piled with snow. The ice-slabs 
on the quay began to break, when I pushcd 
them \\ it h my sl iek, into glassy fragments. 
Here ami there some spaces began to open, 
and dirt.v bro"11 snow \\ater poolcd on the sur- 
face. There had been several warm days, but 
110\\ raill and \\ ind came, and they soon melted 
the \\alls of my crystal prison. Sledges still 
ventured on tlae 1'e\"a, though the water rose up 
to thc hur

 >>' lnet..s. 


[Fc1 I..nr" .1. 18C-. ] C!) 


One mornin
, when 1 looled out of my 
window on the ground floor at 
lis Bison's 
on the J::ngli
h quay, the water had all . 
 
from thc surl.iee of the ice; that was th{' well- 
I..nowll sign thd.t the ice bad become too ponus 
anù S r ongy to hold water, and in a few bours 
woult break anay from the b.mks and begin to I: 
float seaward. 
I had ju
t sat down to brea1.fast, wIlen a 
thunder-peal of cannon hrol..e from the fortrc . 
" What is that, Miss llenson?" I said to our 
ho<)tLvs at the head of the table. 
"That," she replied, U i" the si
llal that the 
commander of the citadel, with Ins officers, is 
erossin
 the river, to present the Emperor at 
the \\ mter Palace with a goblet of Ne\ß water 
in token of the return of spring. The Em- 
peror will give him the cup back filled with 
ducats." 
" 11 urrah !'- I ericd; "then bey for old Eng- 
land! " 
It took me some days to get thc ship off, for II 
it was tedious goin
 backwards and forwards to 
Cronstadt. It \\ as the Hutter week time: that 
seven dHYS' feast" hieh preeetleq Lent., and is fol- 
lowed by t.he rejoiein!; of Easter. In the in.cr- 
vals of busincss, as 1 went to nnd fro to my 
agent's, I amused myself with observin; the 
revelry of this great Jtussian festival. 
There were thous:md') of peasants devourin!;' 
blinni (pancakes), and caviare, hOlley-eale , .md 
nuts. There were swings, see-saws, and round. 
abouts. The great square of the Admiralt) \\. s 
the chief scene of the amusements. Close to the 
\\ inter Palace, the War-office, and the Sendte- 
House, there were scores of temporary the'\tr(' . 
and long lines of ice mountains, down \\ ;!Í( 1 
the sledges kept rushing incessåutly, amid th4 
shouts and laughter of the good-natured but 
wild-Iookin
 l easants. At the doors of the 
theatres stoo the tea-sellers, with huge braz
'n 
semovars smoking in the centre of their tabl. 7 
and surrounded by countless teapots. The sbop- 
keepers themselves, in fur caps and glo\"es, stood 
by their stalls, stampin
, and clapping their 
hands, and shouting: .. Gentlemen, will :;uu 
please to take a glass of warm tea, wi: h lemon 
or cream? How will) ou take the sugar?" (fùr 
a true Russian keeps his sugar in hi", mouth, 
and docs not put it into his teacup). The .\.1- 
miralty square was strewn \\ith nut-shells; here 
and there a drunken bear of a pe
ant, a mere 
reeling bundle of gre'\Sy sheepskin, jo '..ù 
against me, and then, with the simple-heart d 
politencvs of his race, took' off his hat and hic- 
cuped out: ".Pardon me, my little father, b.1t 
remember it is Butter week." 
One day I sallied out into the great square 
about noon to see the grandees of the ca. ù 
dri\e through the fair, and I never saw such a 
sight. The line was guarded b) moull;tcd !! n- 
darmes, dressed lil..e lancer!:!, aUli wcarlllp- I J\t 
blue uniforms \\ith brown cp.mlettes. There "er
 
Chin -"e, Tuì'l..s, Tartars, German" Engli"lhrn>cu, 
H.1l
"lian princes, priests, soldiers, bearded .ner- 
chants and t heir portl
 \\'i\"es, Circß.,sian otL.ce 
colonels of thc body-guard in their cagle-crown d II 



70 [F,b"""y ". 1864.] ALL THE YEAR R 0 !:iND. [Condnd'd by II 
helmets, and serfs, in a long procession of car- soldiers ceaseu 
heir J?ractic
l joke:::, the country- I 
riag-es, which, beginning at the rock on which wo
nen paused III thClr gOSSip, the boys stopped 
Peter the Great's statue stands, reachcd to t.he eatmg, every eye turned to the stage. 
base of the great granite column of Alexander, An honest old woman just before me-a 
facing the enormous pile of the Winter Palace. housekeeper, as I judged by her dress-Gmused I II 
Tired at last of the procession, I turned aside me especially by her child-like eagerness. She 
to one of the largest of the wooden theatres. put on her spectacles, and leaned forward with 
A clash of music from within announced the both hands on her knces, to drink in every word. 
commencement of a new performance; joining The play was a little operetta, half :b'rench, 
the torrent of people, old and young, rich and half Italian. 1 think they called it "Rose and II 
poor, who were jostling for admittance, I at last Lubin," It was a gay, trifling thing. The hero 
made my way to the pay-place, where a mob of and heroine were villagers, and an old cross 
clamorons moujiks were thrusting out their hands father, and a malicious' fool, were the constant I 
,,:ith the admittance-money, in childish impa- interrupters of their :::tolen meetings. Rose was I 
hence. dr
ssed i
l a li
tle tucked up gown of white silk 
I drew back to make v.-ay for a respectable old stnped wIth Plllk, and wore a gipsy hat; Lubin 
grey-bearded merchant and his pretty daughter, wore a nondescript sort of blue silk coat and 
who, muffled up in a cloak trimmed ,,,ith the fur flapped waistcoat, wllÏle the Zany tumbled into I 
of the silver fox, clung to his arm, and shrank a thousand scrapes in a sort of miller's dress all I 
back from the rough gesticulating crowd. I white, and a blue broad-brimmed hat. There I 
thought I had never seen so charming a girl, "ms a good deal of hiding and searchinO' about 
so tender in manner, so gentle and spring-like with soldiers, until the true lover er.li
ts, and I 
in beauty. The merchant and his daughter finally returns a General, to marry Rose. It 
bowed and thanked me in broken Euglish for was a flimsy pretty bit of nonsense, mixed up I I , 
my politeness, paid their money, and passed in, with dances and songs, and now and then a 
I followed rapidly, but a crowd of peasants chorus; and it 'YaS all over in half an hour. 
thrust themselves in before me, so that when I Silly as it was, it pleased the audience, who 
took my seat I could obtain no glimpse of the shouted, laughed, and encored everyt hinge A 
merchant or his pretty daughter. display of fireworks was to follow, and then a 
The wooden theatre of the Katsheli was an short farce. 
enormous building, built, as a peasant next Between the acts, I tried the little Russian I 
me said, to hold five thousand persons. It knew, and askcd the old woman, who had turned 
had large galleries, balconies, and Corinthian round and offered me some honey-cakes: "How 
pillars, hung with cheap drapery, and gay with she liked it p" 
red and blue paint. .A vast chandelier lighted ")ly little father," she said, quite seriously, 
up the tent-like interior. " it is the most wonderful thing I have ever be- 
The thf'atre was already full when I entered, held since I saw those accursed :French act at 
so that I had to content myself with a baek Moscow, in Napoleon's time." 
seat in an upper box. not far from the head of Suddenly all the clatter and laughter died 
OIle of the staircases-as I soon found by the away. The curtain had not risen, but a faint 
keen-edged iced draught. I amused myself, crimson light was shining behind it. It was the 
while the overture was playing, with the motley commencement of the pyrotechnic displav, and 
view before me. The Tartar faces, only pm:- I I was curious to see what the Russians' could 
tially reclaimed from barbarism, were worth do in these matters. The first scene was to be 
studying, now that they beamed with fun. the illumination of tbe Kremlin at the corona- 
The little oblique eyes glistened with enjoy- tion of the Emperor Alexander the First. Pro- 
1I1cnt, the great bearded tangled heads rolled bably that was only the preparation, for, though 
about in ecstasy. Here and there. the eye fell the red light widened and glowed, the curtain, 
on a Polish or Circassian face, with large fine strangely enough, did not rise. 
I eyes, and almost a Greek contour. Every now The people stamped and shouted. All at once 
and then, a group of grave portly merchants in the bajozzo (the clown), in his white dress, ran 
furred caftans and boots, mingled with the forward, pale as death, his eyes staring, his hands 
serfs, but with an obtrusive reserve that showed tossing about like those of a madman. " "\Ve 
they did so under protest. Their children, also are on fire!" he shouted. "Save yourselves, you 
dressed in caftans and boots, were e,<actly like who can." 
themselves all but the beards. Nor" as there "Bravo, Ferrari!" cried the peasants, with 
any lack of women of the lower orders: rough, roars of laughter. " Excellent! Viva Ferrari! 
honest, Irish-looking women, few of them in Bravo, Ferrari!" 
bonnets, most of them with their heads bouud The clown fled from the st.age, as it seemed, 
round with eoloured handkerchiefs. in an agony of feigned fear. The laughter re- 
I did not listen much to the music; it was doubled. .A !Hall in evening dress rushed 
that brazen mechanical sort of music, without forward, whispered to the orchestra, and waved 
colour or life, that no one listens to. By-and-by, his hand to some men who were not visible to 
it ended ,,-ith a jolting crash. There" as a mo- the audience. 
ment's pause, and the curtain drew up. A deep The curtain rose swiftly at that ominous 
I hush passed over t.he troubled wm es of the pit. signal, and disclo
ed, to my horror, a rollin!:; 
i The children clutched their fathers' hands, the mass of fire and crimsoned smoke. Already the 
II ' I 



CLrl
 9 Dicken!!.] 


ALL TIlE YEAR ROL"'XD. 


[F 
ru"\ry 27, l!1rl] íl 


flies hau caua-ht tire and were haTlging in blazing' 
streamers. .Fire rose ii'om brlu", till Jleamed 
from above, tire darted it
 quick tlJngues from 
either side. The rhe,ttre \\'\s on Jire. Thc 
bRjozzo hat! not been f(':gl1in,!?, but was terribl) 
in e,lrnest. 
I shall never forget the !!crram t hat bur
t 
from t hose four thousanù people \\ hen the reality 
brole upon them. 1 h,\d only an in
tant to 
look, but in that inslant I saw rOW after row of 
white faces turn as by one impulse to the door. 
'l'hen, came a stamping- rush as of 11 herd of mad- 
deued .Ulimals. Manv tore forward "ithout 
a thouf{ht but of their O\V1l safety, ot hers 
snatched up their children, othcrs dragged for- 
ward their old mothers or fat hers, or bore their 
wives u1' sweethearts in their arms. Then came 
the grapple for life, the trampling suffocating 
battle for e"{i
tence that only served to hasten 
on death. 
In llIany thin!:",; I am eo\\ard enough, but in 
sudden danger 1 have always found myself cool 
and collected. Perhaps a 
ailor's frequent 
hazard
. and the constant thought of tile po
si- 
bility ot death, is a sort of training; perhaps 
it is a constitutional qualit
., I know not how 
it is. I only state the fact. I saw imme- 
diatel) that though for the moment safe, and far 
I from the full torrent of the stru!!gle, my hopes 
of escape \\ ere quite as desperate as the hopes 
of those" ho \\ ere trampling each other to deoll h 
at the cntranee below. Unfortunately. one of the 
great folding-doors opened ill\\ard. In the first 
rush it had been clo
ed, and now the pressure 
was so great it could not be mm cd Olle \\ ay 
or other. 
'The flame
 \\ere sprwding rapidl
, the smoke 
rolled to\\ards us in blinding clouds, and from 
those clouds darted and leaped serpent ton
ues 
of tire. The flames seemed \\ ith cruel greedi- 
ness to spring from seat to seat. The slips 
were blazin
, the orchestra was a seething J }it 
of tire. The screams and groans on all si es 
were heart-breaking. 
I hesitated for a moment whether to remain 
where I was and meet death, or to breast the 
human whirlpool belo\\. _U that moment a 
i>urge of flame ran along the ledge of the next 
box to me, blackening and blisterin
 as it \\ ent. 
fhe Leat grew inten
e. I determined to maL.e 
one stw!!gle for my hfe. I ran to the head of 
the 
tairs aUlllooked do\\n. There, the herd of 
screan,ïug shouting people fought \\ itL hands and 
feet in a horrible tanglc of life and death. 
I gave mYbclf up as lost, \\ hen a hand seized 
my coat. It was the old housekeeper, scream- 
ing her entreaties to me to save her. I told her 
to cling to me and I would do what r could. 
It ga\ e lllt.. coura
c to thiuk 1 waS strwrgling 
for some one besides myself. She kneeleu and 
prayed to God for us brth. 
I had placed m)"elf at the edge of the 
crvwd in ordrr to husband my rtreìlgth for a 
last effort. One thin... r determined, and that 
was that I \\ ould not sm-e myself b\ treading 
poor "omen and children under foot: Rather 
than th"t, r \\ould let the fire bum IDe slo\.l)", 


or I \\lJuld recommend my. '11 to God, Huo\\" 
my" If inti, the crater bthind mf", and so die 
quickly. One agon;.,mg thought alvne &110t 
through my heart, and tl.at WI.S a thoupht for 
the tender girl I Iud seen so innocent ana. happy 
Lalf an hour before. 
Suddenlv, as 1 stood there like a dh-
r 
hesitatin
 before he plunges, a peasant, scorcllf'd 
and burnt, dashed p.lst me from the crowd th 
had trampled upon him, and, stag
ering for\\ard, 
half-stifled \\ ith smoL.e, fell face downward drad 
at my feet. His a'{e, as usual \\ ith the peasants, 
was thrust in his Lelt behind. .A thought of 
self-presen'ntiun, surely sent str3.i
ht froln 
Hea\ en, flashed througl1 my brain. I stoop d 
and drew out the a'{C' 
")Iake way there. or I cut dou n the first 
man who stops me!" I cried out, in broken 
Russian. 
I Lalf fought, half persuaded, a few to 
i\"e 
\\ay, until I reached the bottom of the stairs, 
and had the bare plank u all of the outer en- 
closure of the theatre before me. 
"I will S3\ e you all," I cried, "if you will 
let me free m\ arm." 
Thc old woman ::Itill clung to me, but as I 
advanced to strike my fir
t hlow at t he plank 
partition that arose hetween life and death, 
there came a rush which for a moment separated 
us. I had no time or room to turn, but next 
moment I felt her grasp still firmer and closer. 
One blow, and the splinters flew; a second 
blow, a plank gave; a third blo\,", and the 
blessed daylir:-ht poured in on us; a fourth blow, 
and a chasm) a\\ ned, \\ ide enou
h for the p3!.3age 
of 111) self and my charge. After U
, hWldreds 
passed out rapidly. 
I found myself among a crowd of shriek
ng 
\\omen, who \\ere calling on an officer standmg 
in a barouche drawn bv si" horscs, to save their 
husbands, SOilS, brothers. Suddenly a mall 
with a scorched beard, his eyes strraming with 
tears, came and took from me the \\ oman I had 
saved. I was so blinded with smoke and 
fevered with excitement, that I had scarcely 
given her a thou
ht. All I knew was, that I 
had saved au old woman, and, by God's gracf', 
opened a door of escape for some huudr Js ()f 
other\\ ise doomed creature
. 
1\lJlll I 1001.. d round, I found the merchant 
whom r had before 
een (he was the scorched 
and \\CI pin!! man), 
hedding tears of joy o,er a 
beautiful girl \\ho had fainted. The old woman 
had been divided from me in the tumult. 'fhe 
merchant's daughter it was who had then cIA t ed 
me-it was her whom I had saved. BeAnnful 
she looked as I beut 0\ er her and received her 
father's ble<:sin
. 
The hll otlieer was the emperor. ")Iy 
children," he kept saying to the mob, "I \,,
ll 
sa \ e all r can! fil ing tbat bra \-e man to me. 
r am not ashamul to rep
at those \\'orl._, 
thoua-h I did not de en 
 them. 
"l':nglishm'll1," he <:.J.id to me in Frene'
, 
"the Russian nati4 u 0\\ l 
 yoU a debt 01 cr '1- 
tude; it is for me t.o repay "it; come to 11. to- 
r j('1"1"O\ at the p , olCt.." 



7'2 


[February 27, l
rt.J 


ALL THE YE.\R RüUXD. 


I bo\\ ed my thanks, and handed my card to 
one of the emperor's staff. 
When the fire was subdued, and they began 
: I to dig for the bodies, tbe scene was agonising. 
Heaps of charred and trampled corpses lay under 
the smoking' beams-some stifled, otbers trodden 
or beaten to death. Some were charred, others 
half roasted, many onl.y burnt in the ehest and 
I head, the holiday clothes still bright and gay. 
In tbe galleries, women were found suffocated 
I and leaning over the front boxes. In one passage 
they discovered a crowd of dead, all erect, like 
so many shadows marshalled from tbe other 
world. 
Iore than a hundred were found still 
ali"e, but danperously burnt. Most of these 
aftenmrds die a in the hospitals. 
One little boy was discovered cowering un- 
hurt under a bench; he had crept there when 
the burning roof began to break up and drop 
among the struggling multitude. 'I'he beams 
and dead bodies 11ad so fallen as to form a shel- 
ter over his bead, and there he had remained 
till we disinterred him. 
The official returns set down the number of 
the dead as three hundred; but my agent told 
me that while he himself stood there, he counted 
fifty waggons pass, each laden with from ten to 
fifteen corpses; and many people made a much 
higher estimate. 
I need not say much about my visit to tbe 
palace; suffice it to mention that the emperor 
rewarded me with an order that I highly prize. 
On the same da y the P riests offered U P P ublic 
I J ' ,I 
prayers for the souls of the sufferers, on the site 
' I of the burnt theatre. It was a solemn spectacle, 
and as I rose from those prayers, full of grati- 
tude to God for my deliverance, a rough hand 
grasped mine. 
It "as the mcrchant whose daughter I had 
saved. Tears streamed from his eyes as he em- 
braced me and kissed my forehead and my cheek 
in the Oriental manner of his nation. 
" My little father," he said, 'c I would rather 
have found tbee than have cleared a thousand 
red rouble notes. Little Catherine, whom you 
saved, has been praying for you ever since. 
Come, you must dine with us. I will take no 
denial, for do I not owe you more than my life? 
Come, a droshky there - quick to the Fon- 
tanka; Catherine willleap for joy when she sees 
you," 
That visit was an eventful one to me, for on 
my third voyage from that date I married Ca- 
: I therine 1\Iaslovitch, and a loving and devoted 
\\ ife I found her. She is kissing my cbeek as I 
pen thEse words. 
But it is not to dweU upon my own personal 
good fortune and happiness, that I have written 
this plain remembrance. It is, that I may do 


\\ hat little I can to imprcss upon those WIIO 
may rcad it, that a rush from any building- on 
fire is certain to be fatal, and tbat an orderly 
departure from it is certain deliverance. The 
Theatre, Concert-room, Church or Chapel, does 
not exist, throug-h ",hich a fire could spread so 
rapidly as to prevent the whole a5sembly from 
going out unscathed, if they would go free from 
panic. The S:mtiago case was an extremely 
exccptional one. The whole of the gaudy clap- 
traps were under the management of priests 
(the worst managers on earth), and wh:tt lind 
of priests they \\ ere, may be inferred from the 
fact that t.he base cowards all precipitately fled, 
and that not one of them had the manhood to 
stand at thc Altar, his place of authority, where 
he could be seen on a platform made to render 
him conspicuous, and whence Ilis directions 
would have been issued at an immense advan- 
taO'e. Again, the assemblage was mainly COI11- 
pò
ed of women and children in light inflammable 
dresses. Again, the Show was liO"hted by lamps 
of paraffine dangling by strings frolll the whole 
of the roof above the people's heads, which 
dropped upon them, so many overturned pots 
of liquid fire, as the strings were burnt. But 
even under these specially disastrous conditions, 
great numbers of the assemblage would have 
been sa\ed but for the mad rush at the door 
which instantly closed it. Suppose that rush 
not to have been made, suppose thc door 
wide open, suppose a priest with the soul of a 
man in him to have stood on the Altar steps, 
passing the people at that end of the church, 
out of the Priestly door (of whieh we hear 
nothing, and which thc last of those quick 
fugitives perhaps shut after him), and how 
changed the result! I entreat anyone who 
may read this experience of mine, and mayafter- 
wards be in a similar condition, to remember 
that in my case, and in the Santiago case, 
numbers lost their lives-not because the build- 
ing was on fire, but because t.
ere was a desperate 
rusk at the door. Half a dozen men capable of 
self-control, might save as many thousand lives, 
by urging this on a crowd at the critical moment, 
and by saying" 1Ve will go the last." 


:1 
I 
I 
II 
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" I T II W HIe II I S I X C 0 l
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o. 25i,] 


SATURDA Y, :\IARCII 5, 1564. 


[PmCE '.M. 


I 
" 


gratitude, decency, had gone to sleep for a while. 
O'Connell called Wellington a "stunted cor- 
poral," and Almnley a "bloated buffoon," and 
Disracli the )onngcr "a lineal descendant of the 
impenitent thief." One Cocling had cast him- 
CIUl'TER 'II. WilEY WILLI
 TIlE FOURTII self into space in a parachute, and, coming into 
WAS KIKG. I contact with the earth, was smashed to death. 
THE epoch, there was no denying it, was a .\ crafty Frenchman lured many hundreds of 
wild and dissolute one. The imprint of the simpletons into taling ticlets for a passage in 
Regent's cloven foot had not y('t worn away. his navigable balloon or aërial ship. Then, 
A man was upon the throne. He made a de- timeously, he ran a\)ay, and left them with their 
carous king enough in his old age, mainly through ticlets, and an empty bag of oiled silk. There 
the influence of a pious and admirable wife; but were people who did not belie\'e in steam. There 
his 
outh had been the converse of reputable. were others who did believe in it, but held that 
The sons of George the Third had not eontri- locomotives and paddle-steamers were only the 
buted in any great degree to t he elevation of precursors of the end of the world. Meall" hile, 
the moral tone of the countrr. The trial of Chat \[oss had been drained by Stephenson, and 
Queen Caroline, and the private life of George BruneI was piercing the Thames Tunnel. But 
the Fourth, had done a good deal to\\ards de- nothing was settled. "Kobody knew where any- 
pra1,'illg the national manners. There were no thing was to end. Steam and scepticism and 

'oung princesses save one, the Hope of En;;- tractarianism and 
Iurl1hy's weather almanack, 
land, "horn her good mother kept sedulously the abolition of slavery and the labour of ehil- 
aloof from the polluting atmosphere of the age. dren in factories, lions and ti
ers at Drury Lane, 
The Duchess of h.ent and her daughter went and the patents taken a\\ ay therefrom, and from 
tranquilly about from" atering-plaee to watering- Cm ent Garden too; commutation of tithes and 
place, and gathered shells and", eeds upon the reform of municipal corporations, charity com- 
I I sands, and visited poor people in their cot- missions and the new Poor-law, chartism, trades- 
ta
c<:, and sat under evangelical ministers, and unionism and the unknoml tongues; ocean of 
I allo" cd the age to go b
, and to be as \\ ild and pamphlets; new clubs starting up all over the 
di
solute as it ebose. They hoped and \\ ailed West-end ; pigtails, lnee-breeches and hair- 
for better times, and the better times came powder beginning to be laugbed at; the 
at last, and have continued, and \\ill endure, Chancellor jumping up and down on the \\001. 
I we trust. sael. like a parched pea in a fire-shovel, inste:ul I 
Party spirit ran high. We Imd been on the of gravely doubting and doubting for )ears, and 
verge of a revolution about Catholic Emaneil1a- working no end of misery and ruin, as Chancellor I 
t ion, of another about Parliamentary Reform. Eldon had done: all these things, \\ ith Irish out- 
Ever) thing" as disorganised. There were com- rage", colonial discontents and embarrassing rela- I 
missions sitting upon everything, "it h a \ iew to tions with foreign po" ers (order reigned in War- 
tI.c abro:ation of most things. Barristers of saw, and "\ïvent les Polonais!" in Paris meant 
SL. en ) ear.: standing, fattened upon the treasures the eref',ion of barricades and a tussle bet\\een 
wrl'ng from the sineeurists, and the pension- the blouMs and the o:>oldiery), made up a chaotie 
holders of the old Black Book. Commissioners whirlwind of sand anù pebbles and brickbats 
aud inspectors becnme as grert a nuisance and and scraps of paper, the whole accompanied by 
L\1l"d o n to the country as the clerks of the Pipe a prodigious noise, dri, in
 peaceably-minded 
or tb.. Tellers of the Exchequer had been. people half blind, and half deaf, and parcel- 
EhIJ body had hi., theory for regenerating so- mad. 
cie"Y, but li\c1.ed sincere faith in his own }
rancis Blunt, Esq., and )Ionsieur Constant, 
11 tnLD1J; and so, after a whilr, d . rt d them. had left Stùckwell shortly after ele\en o'e' cle. 
It w

 a rei
 of terror withuut much blood, The haclney-coachman had been "ell paid, and 
Tl. ""tfare ,,""as m"lstly on(" of W .Ird, and prin- promi
"d an extra f .. for spred; but the era d 
I il--' abu..:vp langurgr bLinz in v("-' 
mun
 npid Han )illS was) et to r0l1.l(' and it 1,US n arly 
pd:edlyW1 nruI'ulous party-\\rih _ft. lkverenee, I midnight when th two j -.led hoI':)cs that w...w 


QUITE ALOXE. 


- 


BOOK TilE FIRST: CHILDJlOOD, 


\ OL. "\ r. 



ALL THE YEA3 ROUND. 


7 J ['IJ.T 'h ::;, lSG-t.] 


the vehicle clattered over 1Vestminster Bridge, 
}Ir, Blunt felt so exhausted that he was com- 
Ii pelled to descend at a tavern on the Surrcy side 
of the bridge and refresh himself with a slllall 
glass of brandy. He re-entercd the coach, making 
"Wry faces, and declaring the liquor abominable, 
Constant treated the coachman to a glass of ale) 
but did not presume to accompany his master 
to the bar of the tavern. He partook, ontsidc, 
of a moderate sip of his own from a small 
pocket-flask. 
"1Vhy didn't )OU tell me you had something 
to drink "ith you?" said Blunt, pettishly, as 
he saw his companion replace the flask in a side- 
pocket. 
"I could not venture to ask monsieur-" 
began the valet, gravely. 
"I dare say you couldn't, Constant. You're 
a sly fox, and always keep the best of the game 
to ) ourself, Here, give me the bottle. I have 
need of a little Dutch courage to-night." 
)1r, Blunt took a pretty heavy draught of the 
Dutch courage, which was, indeed, the very 
best French cognac. He took a pretty deep 
draught of it, for a man of such delicately-strung 
nerves. 
"Capital brandy," he murmured, smaeking 
his lips. "You have a talent for buying the 
best of everything for 
'ourself. Why on earth 
did you allow me to go into that atrocious gin- 
palace ?" 
"It is for monsieur to lead the way." 
" And for you constantly and careflùly to avoid 
following me, and to allow me to fall into the 
lions'den, Constant, do you know what I have 
to do to-night ?" 
"To be bold, and to win." 
"You have taught me how to manage the one. 
I think I can depend on my own presence of 
mind for tho other. But do you know how 
much I want?" 
"Monsieur's wants are extensive." 
"And so are ) ours, monsieur the sleeping 
partner. Egacl, unless I rise from the table a 
"inner of five thousand pounds I am a ruined 
man !" 
"Monsieur's creditors indeed are pressing." 
"The creditors be hanged," Francis Blunt, 
Esq., returned, with much equanimity. "It isn't 
for them I shall have to sit up till five o'clock 
this morning. But there are debts of honour, 
Constant, that must be paid. I owe Carlton 
fifteen hundred. I owe the Italian prince, what's 
his name ?- Marigliano-a monkey. I must send 
that she-wolf of mine, a hundred pounds before 
to-morrow afternoon, or she will be crawling 
after me as usual. And then my ready money is 
all gone, or nearly so. I don't think I've got 
fifty pounds in my pocket. I've dropped over 
sixty p01111ds at that school at Clapham, Rhodo- 
something House, to pay for that little brat:- 
br your advice, Monsieur Jean Baptiste. I tell 

uu, I must have five thousand pounds out 
of Debonnair before sunrise, or I am done. I 
mu:>t Lave ready money to go abroad with, and 
.1 


-I 
[Collùuet
d by , 


then Dobree has most of my valuablcs; and 
then there are your wages, Constant." 
"And m) commission, if monsieur 11Ieases." 
"And your commission, most immaculate of 
commercial agents. Five per cent, is it not? 
You go abroad with me, Constant, so that you 
know I am perfectly safc. By the way, you 
couldn't manage to take the hundred to the she- 
wolf to-night, could you?" 
" Ready money is not very plentiful," returned 
the valet, after some consideration; "but I 
think I can contrive to obtemperate, by a I 
little fincssing, to monsieur's demand, :Might I 
I, however, ask him to promise me one little I 
thin 0' ?" I 
" '\lmt is it, Constant: a rise in your wages ?" 
")Ionsieur's service is sufficiently remunera- 
tive," answereù the valet, and I believe he spoke ! 
with perfect sincerity. " It is not that." 
".What then ?" 
" Not to touch the dice to-night. As an 
amusement, they are admirable; as a commercial I 
operation, they are destruction." 
" Confound the bones, I know they are," Mr. 
Blunt, with some discomposure, acknowledged. 
"If I had stuck to the coups 
-on taugbt me 
at Vanjohn, I should have made ten thousand 
this season alone. I never get that infernal 
box in my hand without coming to grief in some 
way or other. And yet what money I have 
won !" 
" And what money lost !" 
"Your answer is unanswerable. Yes; I will 
promise 
'ou. I will keep my head cool, and 
won't touch ivory to-night." 
" You are going to Crockford's ?" 
"Must go there, you know. Shan't stop an 
hour. The only way of luring my pigeon out." 
" And then P" 
" To the umbrella-shop, of course. The worthy 
Count Cubiol'd will expect his commission on 
the transaction, for permission to play Vanjohn 
in his sanctum. Everybody wants his com- 
mission now-a-days, I wonder Langhorne, of 
the Guards, doesn't ask for fifteen per cent for 
having introduced me to Debonnair." 
" You will be able to afford it if you only 
follow the instructions I gave )OU. You-I 
mean monsieur-must keep his heaù very cool, 
and, as much as possible, his eyes fixed on his 
opponent. Monsieur must never lose his temper, 
and must never grow tired. Then, if he takes 
care, and Debonnair is gris enough, he will 
win his five thousand and more before morn- 
ing.' 
" I believe I shall. Five thousand pounds are 
more than five thousand louis, most unsophisti- 
cated foreigner. 1Vhere are ne? Oh, Charing- 
cross. We'll get rid of this ramshaclle old tub 
here. I shall go to the club, have D. "arm bath, 
and then-" II 
"To St. J ames's-street ?'. 
" No. Gamridge's. After that, tbe business of 
the evening will commence. The night is young 
yet. It isn't a qual ter-past twelve." 


I I 



Chs" ell 1 . ken..] 


ALL TIlE YEAR ]
OUX]). 


[U 


75 


., I .1\ thel. 
vre have -" 11 Il..>ur to ll' .vc 
I n lr;-' 
"1':' nt:
, )\.IU will }Jaf"r tlmt honour, mo.t 
courteous COlldtant. You may ah.o have the 
hunour úf !o
a)in
 out as late a" JOU like on thi., 
I sidr of .,;x: for 1 c n't expent 
o be home he fore 
tha
 time; but pIe, se sit up for me, that )'OU lllay 
I lnow tile re::.ults of the call1V:....n. It may be 
an .\u terlitz, )OU know, but it may turn out a 
" ate duo. Guod night. I ha\ c no ,ices to 
warn ) ou ß rainst, for ) ou don't secm to be 
troubled v. ith any-or else you are up to them 
aU, o.lud kecp them very dark indeed." 
And so sa) iug, Mr. Blunt wavcd his halld to 
his bod
 rvant, and strode away in the direction 
of Pall Mall. 
The \.Ilet paid the èoachman five shillings in 
excc...s of his fare, at \\ hich jan-ey drove a\\ ay 
rcjoiein!j. His master had flung him his cloak 
hefo..} lca\ing, sayin!; that he would put on an 
ov rc .J.t, li
hter in texture, at his club. Jean 
Baptiste Constant enveloped himself in this 
g'almen t , but did not throw it into any melo. 
dramatic folds, It ce......ed to be the mantle of a 
B) ronic-Iooling patrician. It was now merely 
thc c l "o.lk of a hi
hly accomplished gentleman's 
valet, who knew his cloak and \...ept it. 
u 1 C.3," murmured 
Ionsicur J cau Baptiste Con- 
stant very softly to himself, as he \\ alked round 
the hoardin
 of those old 
Iews once occupy- 
ing th" area of 'l'rafalgar-square, but then just in 
l)rlJ('n
s of demolitiou, "it m,\y be Austerlitz, 
and it .may be "\ Vaterloo-more than Waterloo 
'I -it lllay eml in 8t. Helcna and captivity, and 
de. lh. _\h! je tiens I'enfant. :\.11, that dear 
l aId mhob at Cutchapore "Ito 'Hites such 
I l)reltr letters about his little niece. Ah! Ie 
bcau jeu que Ie vingt et un, Allons \oir la 
Lom e." 
It "as rather late at night to pay a ,isit to a 
she-wolf; but Monsieur Constant seemed bent 
on th . enterprise, and di\ iug into st. Martin's. 
lane, and through the mazes of Cranbournc-alley, 
,\ as ,cry soon in Leicester-place, Leicester- 
squ_.
. 
CII \PTEr.. 'III. TIIE IIÔTI:L R.\T \PLAY. 
I DO
'T know what has become of the llôtel 
Rat .p1-n in thl.se dars. The neighbourhood of 
" La) l.. ...terrC-3
lUal"l''' is no more exempt from 
mutability than its Auglo-S...
on vicinage; and 
lL pLn may ha\ e faded into Gecadenee, or 
und< þ'i)ne an aristocratic change of name, or 
maJ haf b.. 1 swept away altogethcr. It is 
m,t a n atter of much consequenec. I am treat- 
ing i)f the :) 

r '30; and in '30 the Uab.plan 
flou"i :. ù e\...

 ::ngly, and was \ery much the 
IF.' I Hat qJ n iud(
d. 
D Rata '1n kept it. Hr wa" a 
l"OSS f
t 
F...nehL..\D. He looked not only a hndhrd, 
but a cook; aDll a capihl c')ok he was. -Who 
lar.:.. r t 1-.,llntc; hould him. If be f\t. and R'1_ 
ta l').U ,t.'S I Lfd.l all ver. lIe \',ft Llte.m t 
m.clo14 '15-1->(" ;l'g .n11l it i., 1) 
ble t ) "ùn" :H", 
aud his face, like that of many other fat men, 


\\ 
 poñe('tl)' palc and colourk The great ' I 
art of figurf"-paintcrs is, I have h(' rd, dextcr- 
ou:.ly to rC}Jrc I1t tksh that h n n · an adventi. 
tious teint bi' Ilé in imlllcdi.J.te ju'ttapvsition 
\\ ith white linen. For this reason tbe clumsy I 
paiutrrs, when they give us a man or woman 
dressed in v. hite, usually maLe the flesh swarthy, 
or sallow, or san
uinolent. Rubtns is consi- ' I 
dered to have been the only painter who reaUy 
triumphed over the difficulties of cbair cantre 
ling-c. His successors shQl.lld have come to the I 
llûtelllataplan aud studied its proprictor. Ita. 
tap Ian was head cook in his own hutel, and wore 
the ortbodox costume of chef. His jacket, his 
nightcap, hi... long apron, his duck trousers, his 
slippers, were all white, and dirty '\\ hite. His 
face and hands were dirty white too, and 
et 
the contrast between his lineaments and his 
habiliments was marked \\ ith satisfactory 
strength. It was thc tc
ture, perha} ", that did 
it. Olherwi<;e, face and garments "ere identic.iI. 
He looled lile a pierrot who had 
rown fat. 
No, he didn'r, he looked like what he was-a 
cook. 
Rataplan's countenance was so scamed and 
pitted with traef"S of the small-pox, that his 
checks presented a not remote rf"scmblance to 
one of his 0\\11 colanders. lIe had ,"elY little 
bair, and that ,\&5 grey, and cropped clo e to his 
head à la malcontent, and all but concealed 
under Lis nightcap. 
ot a trace of beard or 
\\hi::.ker or moustaehc, did he show. Perhaps 
the be..t of the fire had dricd up the capillary 
forces,or the steam of many saucepans had acted 
as a depihtory. lIe was spla.,hed in many places 
with ancient gravy, giving him the appC1ranee of 
a blotted !okin of parehmeut. He wore ear- 
rings. He had a thin gold ring on his left 
hand to tongue; aud, strange to tell, Rataplan 
wore 0\ er his heart a tliseolourcd red ribbon 
sewed on the breast of his jaclet, and which he 
declared to be that of the .French LC3ion of 
Honour. 
"Received from the hand of the Emperor 
himself on the field of Arcis-sur-Aube," he was 
aee.lstrm.ed to sa). "C'est là que nous avons 
flanqué IDle raelée à c s c3.nailles d' Autrichiens. 
Et les Co
aqu( s! he:U! e'
t D
 lré Rataplan 
qui leur donna à boire et a manger en lS13. Ma 
parole d'honneur, je les ai acc,-JlLuoodCJ à. touks 
s:mees ee03 C ll i UL ." 
lIe declared that he had the ero
 of the 
Legion it. elf, u )-!,l'" r" in a bo.... lie had not 
al\\a
s been a coo.... Dl,.,i.é Ratapl.&n had 
,,'rved ill tho Gl.lhtl.\.rl.l
. He had fo,,
ht at 
the Bpresina. lIe had been at Leip ;c. He 
lly mb -tl Wat("t"loo becau"o the r(>""Írnent 

o whie}- hc belon
("d had been btationf"d be- 
hind the L"Iire. "Et on m'a alII' It. bÚg1nd 
de Ill. Loire, moi qui vous park!" he "ould 
liis I"('l'Pimnnt. he shteù, was the Trente- 

;. me Ll .; bui U-; bis h...LH .s \\ould ob- 
f ill1t t Iy rLl u to b I... TlJ \t a "oldier oi 
the Grand .ArlllY should become all hotel-keel)er, 



[Conducted by 


II 
I 7G [
rar
h 5,1864.] ALL THE YEAR nOUND. 
I or a cook, was no such very astonishing thing; 
but that so corpulent a m::m 
hould ha\ e serycd 
in the light infantry exceeded reason and p1'o- 
, : , I bability. He endeavoured to reconcile assertion 
with fact, by stating that he had been drum- 
I ' , I major to the Thirty-seventh. But his audi- 
tors remained obstinately incredulous. As a 
sapper and miner, as a heavy cuirassier, as a 
grenadier of the Old Guard, even, they were 
willing to accept him; but they declined all 
credence to his ever having been a <<light 
bob." 
Hc appealed to his wife, "
Iadame Rataplan 
was my comrade," he would say, "She was 
cantinière to the Trente-septième. She gave her 
own tabatière once to the Emperor, when he ","as 
out of snuff. Davoust has taken la goutte from 
her, oyer and over again. :Monsieur Ie Princc 
d'Eckmuhl "as ycry partial to :Madame Ra- 
taplan." 
To which, Madame, who was a meek brown 
little woman, usually habited in a chintz bed- 
jacket and a petticoat of blue serge, as though 
she had never had time thoroughly to equip her- 
: I self in feminine attire after resigning the tunic 
and pantaloons of a cantinière, would reply: 
"T'as rmson, mon homme. C'est moi-z-aussi 
II qu'a servi Ie Grand Homme." 
They were all frantic in their fanaticism for 
the memory of the great man, In a dozen rooms 
of the Hôtel Rataplan, his portrait was hung. 
There was a l)laster statue of him in the hall; 
an ormolu bust over a clock in the coffee-room. 
Rataplan would have called his hostelry the 
I Hôtel Napoléon, but for tbe entreaties of his 
: 1 wife, who represented that the establishment 
was of so humble a character, that to affL'i the 
I , : I name of the Great 
ran to it would be desecra_ 
tion. He did a very comfor1#ble business under 
the more bumble sign of the Hôtel Rataplan, 
" I howeyer. 
:M. Rataplan had two children. Désiré, his 
I son and heir, was away in France, head waiter 
I at Calais, until in the fulness of time it should be 
his lot to assume the direction of the establish- 
ment in Leicester-place. " I should have placed 
I him sous les drapeaux, to serve his country as a 
soldier," said the paternal Rataplan, <<but what 
is that flag, what is that caricature of the tricolor 
I see now! 


I, 


Hélas! soudain tristement il s'écrie : 
C'est un drapeau que je ne connais pas. 
All! si jamais YOUS vengez la patrie, 
Dieu, mes enfants, vous ùonne un ùeau trépas!" 


He was very fond of quoting Béranger's Vieux 
Sergent, althougll he certainly looked much more 
like the foolish fat scullion in Tristram Shandy, 
than a relic of the Empirc. He had a daughter, 
Adèle, aged seventeen, whose only duties until 
she was old enough to be marricd were, as her 
parents understood those duties, to keep her 
c)'es cast down, and to divide her time between 
needlework and the pianoforte. She had a 
tambour-frame in the office of the botel, and a 


pretty little cottage piano in her own little 
sitting-room; and she pIa) ed and sewed and 
kept her e
-es cast down, with exemplary assi. 
duity. 
Stay! The list of tbe family is not quitc com- 
plete. There was a very large poodle dog by the 
name of Azor, who in ).outh had been a sprightly 
animal. capable of going through the martial 
e:l.ercise and performing numerous other t,ricks, 
by means of which poodles have ere this won 
fame and fortune for their masters, 011 the public 
stage, But Azor had grown lazy from long pos- 
session of the run of his teeth, in such a land of 
honey as the kitchen of an hotcl. Formerly he 
used to be shaved, but was now aUowed to wear 
the totality of his shaggy coat, so that he re- 
sembled a small Polar bear quite as much as a 
laI'
e poodle, 
}-'inal1
', there was at the Rôtel Rataplan a 
prodigious old woman, who was called La :Mère 
Thomas. Nobody could tell with precision who 
she was. Some said she was Rataplan's grand. 
mother. Others, that she was madame's aunt. 
She \"as evidently a kinswoman, for she tutoyéd 
the whole family, called R1.taplan mon bichon, 
and his wife ma biche, and occasionally boxed the 
ears of Adèle. La :Mère Thomas ",as of im- 
mense, but uncertain age, Her complexion was 
of a fine mahogany colour, and she wore a mous- 
tache that might have been envied by many a 
subaltern in the Lifc Guards. On her chin, too, 
there sprouted sundry h:1Írs, which, but for her 
otherwise jovial appearance, would have given 
her an uncomfortable family likeness to one of 
the witches in Macbeth. La J\1ère Thomas wore 
a crimson and yellow pocket-handkerchief bound 
lightly round her head and tied in a bow in front, 
another silk bandkerchief crossed over her ample 
bosom and, tied behind her very much in the 
style adopted by the engaging damsels resident 
in the lleighbourhood of Ratcliff Highway, a 
large gold cross at her neck, a skirt of some 
indescribable fabric and of no colour at aU- 
people said it had originally been a flannel 
petticoat pieced with a soot-bag-and carpet 
slippers, like an upholsterer's assistant. She 
snuffcd continually from one of those little tin 
boxes witIl a petforated top, like those which are 
used to keep gentles for fishing in. She was the 
night porter at the Rôtel Rataplan; and tra- 
vellers, whom she had let in very late, declared 
that she habitually smoked a short pipe after 
two in the morning. Her conversation was not 
copious. lIer English was monos
.llabic, and 
not abundant, although she had been at least 
ten Jears in tbis country, She was a hearty old 
soul, however, and \"er)- fond of beer, which she 
drank by the quart. 
Suell was the Rataplan family, They were a 
good-natured group, all very fond of one another, 
and quarrelling very seldom: as is the foolish 
manner with these French peoplc. 
The hotel was conducted without the slightest 
ostentation, but was, nevertheless, a sufficiently 
prospcrous speculation. It 'was emincntl)T Frencl1. 



[l[arc.il. 1 L] 'i 7 


ALL THE YF AR I
OL
D. 


Charlell DiLkeDII.] 


Turning from I.eict',>tf'r-place into the III tel,} u 
n.i..ht h.L\e fancied H,ur
clf at once in rl..nel - 
, I not neces
arily in l)
ris, but in some pru\ iw :.1.1 
to\\n, The hall "tL
 flagged \\itb the samL dirty 
marble. deeor.Lted \\ ilh the same sham bronzf's, 
toml hung \\ith the same array of shrill tinUing 
bells. The \\ aIls were gay \\ ith the same 
Lighly decorated placards re1.LtÍng to chocolate. 
corn plasters. bills. cJn..tic eor
eb, and hotels at 
Gene\ a, Lille, Dunlirk-or, continentally else. 
where. There was a litHe poky office, \\ ith 
pigeon.llOles for the lodgers' candlestiels, and 
numbered l1htes and hooks for tbeir leys; a 
f!reen-shaded lamp on the e
eritoire ; limp, green, 
shagreen-cO\ ered registers to keep the neeounts 
in; a long low ann-chair covered \\ ith Utrecht 
'\"Chet, for Mademoiselle Adèle; another. higher 
I and black leather covered. for La 
lère Thomas. 
I 
Iadame Uataplan was seldom seen in the upper 
re.;ions. She was, in fact, head chambermaid, her 
assi..tant being a dirty Irish girl, "ith a face like 
, I a kidne
' potato, and many chilblains, who got on 
\ cry "ell" ith the Rataplans principally Cor the 
reason that the\'" were all Roman Catholics. The 
sallc à manger'was a long low room, uncarpeted, 
and the floor becs\\al.ed; Curnished "ith the 
usual array of rlliìh-bottomed chairs, the usual 
litter of half-emptied wine bottles, dingy napkins 
in dingier bone rings, lnives that wouldn't cut, 
forks beling their proper complement of prongs, 
copies of the Sièele and the Charivari seven 
da}s old. and a big mezzotint engrming after 
Horace Vernet, representing Kapoleon ri
ing 
" from the Tomb. L\er}thing \\as \ery French 
indeed, E\ er} thing \\ as veQ door indeed. There 
' I I was a table d'hôte 6\ ery day at half-past six, 
at ",hich the cookery nas admirable and the 
wines ",ere dete
tablc. The hotel "as gene- 
II r:1l1y full of foreigner
. The lliItaplan elientèle 
abroad \\as extel15ive; and foreign \isitors to 
En;;l:md "ere accustomed to dcelare that, al- 
thou
h the hotel accommodation of perfidious 
Albion \\ as in general e\.ecrable, that offered by 
the lIôtel Hataplan was passable, mais diablement 
cher. They did not seem to be aware of the 
po
sibility of any hotels nisting an} where in 
London out of Leicester-place, or at least" Lay- 
cesterre-squarr," 
Rataplan, thcn, prospered. lIe OlÙ}" kept one 
waiter: a 
'oung man from Alençon, named 
Antoine, with a red head and a face lile a fox. 
This serviteur appeared by day in a \\ aistcoat 
I with black calico sleeves and baggy }Janbloons 
of blue canvas terminating in stoclin;; feet. 
At table d'hôte time he attired himself in the 
black tail-coat and white erayat de rigueur, and 
carried a serviette ill lieu of a feather broom 
under his arm. lIe" as very good natured, and, 
sa\ e on the que
tion of the rceloning, passably 
honest. He had taught the Irish sen ant girl to 
play IJiquet "ith him, and, \\ hen any of the 
lodgers "anted a little quiet gambling, Antoine 
was alwa) s ready with a port. ble roulette box 
\\ ith au ivory ball. lIe did not apl)ear to ehe:J.t 
until he \\ as Cound out. 


I ll.1vC forgotten to state that from basement 
to roof the llôtel Hat..q,Ian s.nLlt \ ery stronoly 
of tobaceo-sll1ole. 


SPORT ON TIlE KA
I.LL:ESS FJELD. 


TAUt of laughin
-gas! It is nothing to the 
effect the bracing air of the KOr\\cgian }'jdds 
has upon the frame. "bether the amount of 
O'\J gell one inhales up there, produces a too 
g-reat \\ car-and-tear of the system, is a physio. 
logical que
tion I don't feel competent to enter 
upon; but I incline to think the reverse to be 
the case, "hen the quantity of carbon assimilated 
in the shape of prO\ isions is taken into account. 
On the Ijelds a man is alnays hungry, If 
ever I "ere reduced to such straits as to be 
obliged to devour my shooting-boots, in default 
of better diet, I could do so up there \\ ith greater 
complacency and relish than cl
e\\ here. 
I am what is termed an "old hand" in 
Xorway, and have been in the habit of spendin
 
my summers there for a number oC years; and 
when I have had my fill of catching salmon. 
and of eating them (and when the nlOsquitoes 
have had their till of me), I repair to the 
Fjelds to pay my attentions to the grouse and 
reindeer. Norway is the safety-yah'e for all my 
ailments. .Whether it is the air, or the sea- 
passage, or the "roughing," or the sharp 
cxercÌse, certain is it, that when I get bael to 
England, I feel better in body and ill mind. 
'!his last ycar, 1803, our party consisted of 
four. Tents, canteen, rods. dogs, and guns 
were all packed up. and we had secured berths 
on the old Seal1dinavian. 
Let us hasten over that horrid Korth Sea. 
and pass over all the troubles to which flesh 
is heir on a rough passage, as quickly as 
possible. It was as brIght a day as you could 
\\ ish to see. when", e found ourselvcs on board 
the" Skibladncr" at Eidsvold, the southern end 
of the beautiful Miösen Lake. Of course the 
first thing \\ e did there, was to li.
ht our pipes 
\\Ìth some of the H Uedste Tabak subter 
Solem," other\\' ise called Petum, costing the 
respectable sum of not quite tenpence the 

 01"\\ egian pound. 
I take it for gral1ted that the l1iösen Lake 
has been so frequently described, that further 
remarks on it \\ ould be superfluous. So. in- 
stead of the scenery, I will devote a fen lines 
to some of our Cellow-passengers. 
'The boat ,\ as cro" ded. S1. nans' F..lir in 
Chri;:)tial1a was just over, and the timber-mer- 
eh.mts were returning to their homes from the 
metropolis. 
\ jolly set of fellows those Bönder 
\'a ere, and. to judge from the quantity of 
champagne they consumed. I should say. \\ ell 
off. Among our passenO"ers \\ as an ElIgh
h girl, 
\\ho in company "ilh lkr elderl) parent. "as 

oil1g to fish salmon on the "estern coast. 

he \\ ore a felt hat, ,\ ith a feather 51 uck in it 
011 one side in the most jaunty m.L1mer, find 
a dark blue yachting jacket \\itb bra35 buttO
15 
and poelcls, and a ÙIC;)S of the SIlIDC nmtenal 



I 7 s r"'1.rch 5,1864.] ALL THE YEAR l
OU:KD. [Conducted 1 
! I reachin
 a little lower than half way down a the individual denounced, but perhaps thcy 1\-ere 
I pair of th
 neatest legs I ever saw. These dear intended for the benefit of futliTe Enrrlish tra- 
i ,l legs were eased in bright sealing-wax red stock- yellers. But I was glad to see, on reh{'rning- by 
ings, shooting boots "ith brass eyelet-holes, the samc route, that some others of your coun- 
II aud hra&s-bound heels. Add to her other trymen had felt disgusted at bis renìarks, for I 
charms, that shc could "snakke Norsk," and found at one place, entered below one of his 
say "Tak," and "V ær saa god," with thc comp.laints,' 'l'his olll grumbler ought to have 
prettiest ail' imaginablc. remamed at home;' and at another, 'I h::lve to 
As she and I were both bound on the same complain that I found no toothpicks at thi
 
errand, nameh-, to lill salmon, we soon entered station;' and' ::\Ir. - does not secm to have 
into eonversåtion, She had never flv-fished enjoyed his trip overmuch.' " 
before, though shc averred she could throw a " I rather think I know the man you mean," 
fly pretty '
ell. I" as curious to learn how I said. 
she had acquired the art. :Dut now the boat had arrived at Lillehammer, 
" I used to get Bob, the gardener's boy," she so bidding adieu to our friends, we hastened up 
said, "to stand at a respectable distance, and to the inn. Early next morning we started 
then I ,",ould make casts at him till I could for our fishing quarters, where ",""e remaiued 
touch almost any button on hi.3 waistcoat. "When three ,"\ eeks, meeting with fair success, at the 
I had practised throwing, loug enough, I would end of which wc found ourselves only too glad 
cry, "1\0\\', Bob, hook on!' and so Bob fastened to go up to what I shvll call Nameless Fjeld, 
the end of his line round a button, and, ima- "here I had had a small shooting-box knoe1..ed 
gining himself a s
lmon, rushed off as fast as he up. I purposely omit the name ofthe Fjeld, as I 
could. 'Now, Bob, up stream; now jump!' have a great desire to keep this bit of ground to 
and then I lower the end of my rod." mn;elf. Pardonable selfishness! 
"Quite right," I said; "I see ) ou know all 'It is not my purpose to enter int 0 a detailed 
about it." account of our manner of living up there. :Kor 
" And then, when we were both fairly out of how we feasted like princes on trout, char
 rrper, 
breath, I would call out, 'Now, Bob, come and venison, cloud-berries and cream from a nPlgh- 
be gaffed!' .And so ended my morning's prac- bouring' Sæter;' neither will I recount all our 
tice !" sport ing ad '"entures, and how Bogus U'ould spend 
If there had not been so many spectators, I all his time in going after an imag-inary bear, 
would bave offered mv services there and then ,,'hich of course he never saw, and which, I be- 
to act the salmon. i'm sure she could have lieve, nobody ever did see; Iwill merely recount 
hooled me easy enough! the deeds of September 4th: a day ever memo- 
There was one old 1\orwegian on board, and a r
ble in the sporting annals of Namele
s :Fjeld. 
cynical dog he \\ as. He could speak English It was our custom to divide our forces so 
pretty ,,-cll, and seemed rejoiced at having the that only two went out reindeer hunting, while 
opport.unity of speaking it with a native. The the others remained near home, to pay their 
following is the "burthen of his tale" put in attentions to the ryper and ptarmigan, and to 
better English than he useù: catch trout and char, with which the small tarns 
"What a queer lot of fellows you English and "becks" abounded. This day it was 
are," he said, after "e had spoken together for Bogus's turn to go reindeer hunting with me. 
a while, " coming all this way to catch fish, and It was as lovely a morning as ever hunter saw, 
to hunt deer. Besides, you do a ,,-onderfullot when we left our quarters at four in the morn- 
of harm to our peasantry." ing. "\Ve bent our steps to a part of the Fjeld 
"How so!" I said. " lVe pay pretty well where the othel' two had secn a large herd of 
for our amusement." deer the day before, but had been unable to get 
! I "Much better stay at home," growled my near them. 
! ' friend. "You are so inconsistent; at one time After a long and tedious walk, halting e,-cry 
you overpay, at another you underpay. If few minutes to sweep the horizon with our 
i some of you are munificent, others are mean and glasses, we arrived at the spot where we ex- 
! ' stingy to a degree. Our simple-heartcd people peeted to find them. Not a horn could we see, 
can't understanù such treatment, You do them But there were signs that there had been a 
as much harm by paying grandly, as by paying large number there only very recenth-, for we 
meanly." could see "here they had been cropping the 
I couid not but acknowledge that there was a Alpine ranunculus, their favourite "bonne- 
truth in his remarks. bouche," The dog began to sniff about, and, 
"To give you an instance," he added; "last after satisfying himself that there was nothing 
year I met one of your countrymen, and he cer- close by, seemed as if he caught scent of them 
tainly maintained the character you bear of being at a long distance. The boy who accompanied 
a nation of grumblers. At every station at which us held him lightly in leash, and we determined 
he stopped, some complaint was entered in the to follow him in any direction he might choose. 
road-book. :K ow 'he had been kept wai ting We walked on, perhaps for an hour, when all 
ten minutes for horses,' or ' he had been charged at once we detected the herd at about three 
i an exorbitant price for a cup of coffee,' or English miles distant. 
il'the station-master was an extortionate rascal.' ,re could see them quite plainly through our 
I L or co urse, all these rema rks were Hehrew to gla 5:'es, and counted lIlore than a hlllldred, 



CharI II J),õkeDII.] 


ALT
 THE YEAR ROUND. 


i 


II some of t hl1l1 =:.plrndid I r!!f' fe ' mW A <; b \d 
luck" ould have it, tlu re \\ a lar
" extent of 
marshy ground to ere , br.oh' w ("mId ,,:rt 
near them. 0\\ r thi;: w \Vormpd oUT::lehes 
aloD!;" . 1ake fa'ìhi n, mtJ JI,\' cr. ('pin
, but oeca- 
sionall) ta
in!;' advantage ûf ,>me hugt' 
oul
f'r 
behind \,Iuch \\c could tami up erect with Im- 
punity-nl) small relief after ('rawling for a 
c01!ple of hours. 
1 had e Iculaf..d \\ e mu!'t be \\ ithin two hun- 
dred ,ards, but when we came to look for them 
not oñ" of th
1Il was to be seen. 
U }'ine "port this," 
rowled Bugus, ill a sup- 
prrs<.l('d tom', and looking- savage. 
l( Gl d yuu think so," was g'rowled back in 
return, while I was stilI S\\ eeping the horizon 
\\ith m.v gIn 1. "By JO\T! there they arc! 
Close h( nnth U"', all Iving do\\n. One, two, 
thrf'e. DI}wn! h.ef'p U;at dog quiet; that old 
buck smells mischief. ,\P ell, t hey are havill
 
their 
if'sta, so I vote we have our' ele\,l.,l1s,' as 
the servants sav at home. We \\ill "ait till 
t hey get up." -The baslet W:1S unpad.cd. I 
had gone back a little way to get a drink from 
a clear stream that came bubbling down the 
Fjeld side, and was stooping do\\ n to have a 
good pull at it, \V hen crack went Bogus's rifle. 
"Con
ound the fellow!" I thought, "there's 
the result of keeping the hammer down; 
there's an end of our sport." But there he 
"as, standing up and yellmg like a mad J ndian. 
Crack" ent the other barre1. Tn vain I looked 
round to ser the deer on mv flank, But ao:; he 
was loading again, I hurried up to him. While 
: I I had b
eu gone something had startled the 
animals, he said, and they had suddenly got 
up. Of course it was absurd to wait for me, 
so he had taken aim at the nearest buck and 
fired. He felt sure he had hit, but the smole 
had blown back iuto his eyes, and prevented him 
from seeing. 
" But what made you slIrick in that insane 
manner?" I asked. 
"Oh, that was a dodge old' Ole,' my hunter 
in Valders, taught me-at all events, it suc- 
ceeded, for they all stopped as if terrified, and 
I kuow I hit \\ith mv second b:J.rrel." 
" W cll! let us seè." 
At about one hundred and se\'enty yards from 
where we had stood, we fonnd two deer lying I NLVER laid by a penny till the Post-offi
 
dead, side by side. The conical bullet had Savings-banks came up. Not that I mi
htn't 
gone throuph the heart of the first, and pierced have done so, for I earned good \Va
f''3, and after 
the neel.. 01 the second, which now lay gaspiug paying all the e
J>f'nses at home, I had ah\.lJs 
in the agonie
 of death. plenty of loo...e ca...h to spend. I \\0.5 never 
II "Hollo," I cried, "you're ill luck to-da\"- wit hout money in my pocket; but ahva
... at th 
there's another decr Iving dead there on your year's end I had spent all I had rec...iH -J. I 
right.". lne\\ very well tlm I mir;ht hw
 saved a rood 
II And so there was; his second bullet bad also bit,,, ithout cuttin
 do\\ n the "ecl..ly allow...nce 
brou
ht down a deer. Three deer in two shots. to tbe mis!lus for the bouse, or [tinting my elf 
" WeU! I had better get off home with the of any re -3un:1blc enjoyment; but I had never 
lad and semI a horse back tû tale borne the be
nn the thinp-, and when I thought ah IU" 
quar:v, while you rrmain to fla, them," said doing it, I "as at a 1< !I how to !!O at- il. 
llo
us the triumphant, after a p\ill at th^ fla
k. .What I u
ed to do, when I h^d a liul lu,u") e 
:so off he \vent "ith the boy, \\ lule I procf'edcd money over and ahu'\'"e thr c
p^n ^O:, \Va"! t'J 'it 
!o my 1.1<;1.. 
ft
r the nH'.t appron"d f3
hion, But it awa:" in a dra\"'^r, and 10eL. it up; IU.J I 1 
It \\ a!l h. 
mum
 to g'rt lat( J al'd a c:torm "as I to f''lV to my. 'If, "I ""u't t"luch tl at , 
brewing: so after "aiting and waiting, I deter- but I'll put more to it from time to tinll, a...t 


:1 


(1f I't' 


mined to tl v and find my \\3J I. a I 
c,>uld. P.lin
 up !.. Æ(" ov('
 tll( \<. n to 
protect it fn,:n the fo\. and 
Iutton , "hI 1 
\\ould othentlse ha\e c1 .our...d it, h.b d 
all, I set off, si.)"'in
, "TJlfjell'- ! t:lfj( ld ! II 
 r 
den vild(' }tcl1,"-1 J!: t no further. '1'.11' f 
old Sercltch, and he IS surf' to ap')C r. '1'1. 
was a fiue old bueL. not 11101' than 6fh " 
He was standin
 quite alone; for, it. p in tht 
season, it is usual for the large buc' t) scr 1- 
rate from the main herd. I raised my TIne an I 
let fly. 
")Iegrt 
odt sludt," cn d a 'I . :I tl">> 
ben::.t ga"e a salt) mortale and f('11 de d. Tue 
man had arrived with the hurs"', and had Wlt- 
u(,"Ised the operation. So, returnin
 to wher 
the other three lay, we plar d thrm on t

 . JIl} , 
back, and 3"'ain 
tarted homf'. . 
It seemeiÌ as if I w 'J dec:tined to h. . 'J l )ort 
t bat day; for, on dc...eendin
 into a <'..11, t 11' . 
more deer slowly trotted across my path at a 
distance of sixty paers. Ag-ain did the o.iriual 
:-avag-e nature tale posse.3ion of m', and mv 
rifle covered the leading buck niccly. But-a.ld i 
have never since rcg-retted it-a feeling Cdrnc 0\ cr 
me that we had committed enough havoc fûr 
one day, so I stoically threw up my gun, to lhe 
infinite disgust of my companion, who cursed and 
swore as a r\ orweg-ian peasant only can. 
It was one in the morning" hen wr arrived 
at home, I had had nothing to eat all day, for 
Bog'us had forgotten to leave me the provi"ion- 
bag, so, as nlay be imagined, I had a ra\'LnfJU') 
appetite. 
"Why, old fellow," said he, "\\e thought I 
you were lost, and as the trout WI re nic
ly don p , 
it was a pity to spoil them by waitinJ for you I J. I 
vain. " 
" AI\Vn
 s thoughtful!" I replied; "bnt m{lle 
yourself. useful for ,once, and get me 
omethin
 
to eat, If you don t wish me to beglll on you. 
Then for a pi)?e, and the grog. And thelll'lI tell 
you all about It." And I recounted to them my 
adventures, as I have done here, and I put a white. 
mark against Sept. 4 in my journal. 



IY ACCOUNT WITH lIEtt !\L\Jr:
rY. 


II 



I I 
 [March 5, 186.1.1 
I . 
"hen It amounts to a hundred, I'll do some- 
thing \\ ith it-put it in the banI.., or invest it in 
a building society, or something of that sort." 
But, somehow, the money didn't grow as I ex- 
pected. You see, I always had the key of that 
drawer in my pocket, and at any time, if I ran 
a little short, through being rather free with my 
mates or going upon the spree, I had nothing 
'I to do but go to the drawer and help myself. I 
hesitated o,'er it sometimes, but never for long; 
the drawer ,vas so handy, and I used to say to 
myself, "If I take a sovereign it won't reduce 
the money much, 
nd I can put it back again 
next week. But It generally happened ,,-hen 
next week came that it wasn't convenient to put 
the money back. An
 so I ,rent on going to 
the drawer for sovereIgns and half-sovereigns, 
until the bit of money dwindled down so low 
that it wasn't worth 'keeping, It's the same 
with drink. If you make up your mind that 
you ,,"on't taste a drop for a week, and stick to 
it, you are all right; but only be persuaded to 
make a beginning-to tal.e one glass, just one, 
and you take another and another, and then it's 
aU wrong. It's the Sallie, too, I dare say, ",-ith 
swindlin , !! and robbin g Y our master: once make 

 I a bcginn'(ng, and on you go, like rolling down 
One-'free-hill on 'Whit-Monday, the further you 
go, the faster you. go. 
I : Susan used to say to me, "George, how's the 
mone:r getting on?" And she used to say it 
in a sly, sarcastic sort of way, meaning that I 
was spending it, and that it was going ,'ery 
fast. I know it was, but I didn't like to ac- 
knowledge it, and ahrays said: "Oh! it's aU 
right in the drawer, there, what's of it." 
"-'VeU, George," she would say, " you put 
away t.en pounds about a month ago, and as 
Christmas is coming on, it. will enable us to 
buy all we require, and give a little partv to 
our friends." "Yes," I would sa.y, "but 
vou 
know, my dear, that I have had to pay So- 
and-so, and So-and-so;" and then I'd name 
.certain bills, and the subscription to my lodge 
-for I'm an Odd Fellow-and add it up and 
subtract it from the ten, and Susan, not 
being good at figures, would be quite puzzled, 
and give the sum up in despair. But she 
found me out more than once. One day, when 
I came home to dinner, she says 'to me, 
"George," she says, "you left the key of the 
drawer on the mantel shelf this mornin rr ." She 
didn't look at me, hut went on c31
ing the 
boiled rabbit. :My wife is odd that way, and 
not like the generality of women. Nagging is 
not one of her faults. She doesn't say much, 
but 
he thinks tlIe more. So, w hen 
he told 
me about the key in that quiet way, I knew she 
had been to the drawer anù counted the money. 
That's ","here I don't hold with Bluebeard. He 
might have tried his \\ ife with anything but a 
secret; it is downright uureasonablc to expect 
a '" oman not to bc curious. I merely saiù 
" Oh !" in an indifferent kind of a way; but I 
am sure my looks convicted me. ÍIowever, 
, I Susan did not make any remark about the 
money bÓng nearly all gone, but, by-and-by, 
II 


- --=-1 
[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


when shc was hclpin rr me to a suety dumplinO' 
sh
 says in her ysuaf demure way, "Don't ) o
: 
tlunk, Georgc, It would be a gooù thin
 to put a I , 
littlc money a"ay in the savings-bank P" "1" ell," 
I says, "it wouldn't be a bad thing", Susan," 
"N 0," she says," 1'111 sure it would'n't, and if 
I was) ou I" auld make a beginning," "1V ell," 
I says, "I would, if I knew how to go about 
it." " There's 110 difficulty about. that," Susan 
says; "you've only to go to 1Y clbeck-street, 
and put a little in, and they'll give you a book, 
and there you are." " Very well, Susan," I 
says, "I'll take your advice, and go to W elbeck- 
sheet to-morro\\'." 
I was as good :1.S my word, and nð.t day, at 
the dinner-hour, I walked up to 1Yelbeck-street 
to put in three pound ten, which was all that 
was left of the fifteen. But, 10 and behold! 
",-hen I got to the bank it was shut, and for the 
moment I thought it had broke, or the manager 
bolted with the funds, or something"; but onlook- 
ing about I noticed a brass-plate on the ",all 
with information about the bank hours, and from 
that I learned that the bank was only open three 
days a week, from ten to 1\\"0 in the morning, 
and from six to eight in the evening. I had 
come on the wrong day. I was a good bit vexed 
to have all my trouble for my pains, but Susan, 
when I told her, took it quite quiet, and says, 
"Never mind, George, you can go again on 
Saturday, when the bank is open." W ell, I 
fully resolved to go, and on Saturday morning I 
took the money with me, intending to walk over 
to the bank after my work. However, just as I 
was leaving the shop at six o'clock, who should 
I meet but an old mate of mine, that I hadn't 
seen for years. Kothillg would do for Dave but 
I must go and have a glass with him. 1Vell, 
you know, you can't refuse to drink with a mate, 
especially \\hen he's been away in Birmingham 
for ever so long, and got a holiday on purpose 
to come up and see his friends. So in we goes 
to the Yorkshire Grey and has a glass of rum- 
and-water each, and you know how the time 
slips away'" hen old friends Uleet as have been 
long parted, Dave had so much to tell me 
about Birmingham gun-barrels, and I had so 
much to tell Dave about Clerkenwell watch- 
springs, and one thing followed another, in- 
cluding glasses of rum-and.",'ater, that it '" as a 
qu.arter to eight in no time. It ",-as no use; I 
coulùn't get to 1Yelbeck-street in a quarter of 
an hour unless I took a cah, and it didn't seem 
natural like to tale a cab to go to a savings- 
bank with three pound ten: so I stopped with 
Dave and had another glass. 
1Vhen I went home and told Susan, she didn't 
sayan ffilgI"y word, but just remarkcd that I 
was very unlucl.y. You don't know how 
aggravating Susan is in that way. I'd rather 
hàve tongue-pie a good deal, than that sit-and- 
say-nothing, but think-the-more way of hcrs. 
It's wore aggranlting than saying the thing- 
right out; fur JOu can't tell what an awful 
character a quiet woman thinks you are. :For 
my part, I'd rather have teacups. Howevcr, I 
was re:solved to show Susan that I was ill 



AI.L TIlE YEAr.. nOL
D. 


r, 


Clarle. DlckenL] 


[ lard 


r4] "1 


e-I1le t, anJ on t11f' fol1owin
 Tur<)day I got to 
the bank in good time. I didl/t find It such an 
easy matter thou
h, to put my Dloney awa
, e\ ell 
now when I '\\ as there" ith it in illY hand. There 
was such a lot of people in the b..mk that there 
was 110 getting near the counter for full a 
quarter of an hour, and when at last I did gpt 
tu it, the clerks didn't se
m inclined to take 
any notice of me. '1'\\ 0 or thne tillH s I said 
to one of them that I \\anted to put in tlm e 
pound ten, but he paid no attention, and ahva)s 
tm n d to "omC'bod) else, An old woman 
 ith 
half-a-erO\\l1 cut me out fir
t, and then I was 
elbo\\ed aside by a charity-boy with a shilling 
all in coppers. They" ere reguhr customers, 
and used to the banlmg busine-" I suppo!!e, and 
I \\, ..n't. IIowe\Cr, I got it in fit last and 
received my book, and I do assure you I felt a 10"1(1 
bkrn off my mind. When I showcd t he book 
to Susan, !!he said, "That's ri
ht, Georgc, and I 
hope )ou'll go on with it." I fully intended to do 
so then j but it's easy to intend, and not so easy 
to carry your intendings out. It's like sitting 
over a fire on a winter's night, and saying, " I'll 
get up early to-morrow morning and do oycr- 
time j" but when the morning comes, and JOU 
peep out between the clothes and see the frost 
upon the \\ indows, it's very eas) to find an e
- 
cuse for lying a ìittle lonrrer. 
Thc evening song and the mornin
 song don't. 
often agree. So it was" ith my saving. I h:1I1 
always a pretty lively recollection of the trouble 
it \\ .LS to \\ alk all the "ay to ,r clbcek-street 
after my day's work, and then to have to push 
my way through a ero\\ d of old women, and 
wait my turn at the counter. It's not worth 
doing for a few shillings, I usrd to say tu my- 
self; I'll wait until therc's more of it, and then 
put it in in a lump, So I put the shillings awa.v 
m the drawer until such time as they should 
grow to be pounds j but 0\\ ing to the key being 
al" ays handy thcy didn't, nnd what \\ ith cluD- 
nights and sprees now and then, it neyer came 
to be enough to be worth while taking down to 
Welbeck-street. 'Vhcn Christmas-time came, 
nll I had in the b:mk was the three pounds ten 
I 1ìr5t put in. Howcver, that was something, 
and as I was rather short just then, it \\ auld 
come in handy to get the Christmas extras. 
Three days before Christmas I went down to 
the banI... to draw the money out, promising 
SU5.m to come straight home with it. You 
may jud
e how mad 1 \\, '11, when the cIerl told 
me thdt I couldn't draw the mO
ley out without 
giving a weel's notice. lIcI'c was a pretty go j 
:Sus.m at home waiting for the money to get in 
the tea and sugar, thc plum
 and currants, and 
\Vh.t no., and the c3
h not to be got until after 
Christmas. "This sort of saving \\on't suit me," 
says I to myself j .. there's too much ceremony 
about it." I had to borrow the money from one 
of my mates to get the Christmas dinner, and at 
the end of the \\ecl I drcw mv money out of 
W elbcck-street, allli paid him "bacl-. j and that 
\\:LS the end of my account at th.Lt savings- 
bank. 
:t-.Lxt ycar, Susan belonged to a pudding-club 


at the grocer's, and I b on j 1 to a 
 ('h.b 
a
 the Yorkshire Grey "c bl ..m 1) P in 
SlXp 'nee a \\t.ek \ery I 1rtly after 
Iidsumm 'r. 
and, a few da)s before Chri:!tma:!, SU:t8n brourrht 
home a parcel of grocr-' 1, and I g t a go , 
and a. bottle of gin, and a bottle of ru n, We 
didn't miss the mont'y p.Lid every "e k in . ,- 
penees, and whpn the things canl" L'Jm(' th y 
".:emed lile a gift. I c;aid to Susan tlu. I 
thought this \\ u bettC'r than putting mon" J in 
the savings-bank, \\ he... th
re w Sf) mu"h 
ccremony, and 
u an thought so too. Bolt 
\\ hln :5usan's brother, J olm, who is a cashier at a 
large linendraper'
, came to dinner on Chrishlld- 
day, and we told him how '\"e had been saving, 
he burrt out a-Iaughin!!. ""'hat arc you lau
h- 
ing at?" I says. " \\ hat am I laughing at ?" 
he says, almost d-oking him!!cIr with a mouthful 
of 
oo"e-'c why, at you." "'Vhat fur," I <:a\"'). 
"For h<.in
 so jolly green," he say!!. co Joll
 I ' 
green!" I says; "IS it jolly green Lo lay by 
money for a rainy day? -lcast\\ays, fOl' 
Chri!!tmas-day, when a family require5 edras?" 
":Fiddlcsticks!" John says. "Let me ask you 
a questi( n, George." "Twenty," I sa
s j "
o 
ahead, John." .. 'Vell," he says, "when did 

 ou begin to pay into the goose-club at the 
Yorkshire Grey?" "At )lidsummer," I says. 
"And you paid in sixpence every week for 
bventv-six "ceks?" "Yes," I f3.YS, "I did." 
"" hieh made thirteen shillings, George?" 
c, E
aetly," I sa)s. ",r ell," he says, "is the 
goose and the liquor worth it:" " Judge for 
yourself, John," I says. .. Could I hue bought 
buch a goose as that yon are now partaking of 
for lCJS than t:ight-and-six in the shops Í''' 
" No," he s
ys, .. I don't think you could." 
" Very well," I says, "where's your fiddlesticks, 
and how do you make me out jolly green?" 
"Why this ,\ay, George," he says: "in tl'e 
first place, you've been losing the interest upon 
your money for six months." "That's not 
much," I says. "K 0," he says, "perhap:t not; 
but that's not all. I'll be bound to say, Georgr, 
if you'll only be candid cnough to confess it, 
that every time you went to the Yorlshire Grey 
to pay in si,,<pence to the 
oose.club, you had a 
glass of sonu
t hing ?" "I don't denv it," I 

ays; "you can't ,..
ll go to a public-house 
without havin
 a gla i." "Sometimes t"o," 
he sa'\"s " Well" I sars "sometimes t\\'o' 
pcrbaps'tllrer, ,;hen I "h
ppenecl to meet 
 
friend." "Then, let us say, George, that eY
ry 
time you wcnt to p y in sixpt:nce to the club, 
you spcnt, on an a \ emge, another si
rcnce on 
drink." .. It might be about that," I says. 
" V cry wcll then, George, upon yom 0" n 
showing, your g MC, nnd bottle of gin, and 
bottle of rum, h:n-c c(' t you six-and-Í\\ enty 
shillings, to say nothing of your Joss of timr, 
and the injury to )our constitution t1lrough 
drinking more than was good for you." .. I 
ne\er thought of it in that nay, John," I 53.J3. 
"Xo, of cour_e not, Gcm "'"'," he says; "for 
if yon had thought of it in that waJ, yon 
wouldn't hue been !ò'ueh a fool 35 to do it." 
"But you'll admi
," I s )S. "lh.t Susan h:s.s 



t:2 [}!arch 5, 1864.] 



 
[Conducteù by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


I 
I 
:1 
I, 


had her money's-worth at the grocfr's, and not 
paid morc than she ought?" " I'm not going 
to disl'ute that," he says; "but you must re- 
nunber that the grocer has had the use of her 
m .n"y, and supposing he had failed about the 
bl'
illning of December, what "ould have be- 
come of Susan, and all the other Christmas- 
club geese? I'm surprised at a seusible man 
like you, George, doing such things, '\Vhen 
there's a Post-office Savings-bauk close to your 
door." "But," I says, "there's so much 
ceremony about savings-banks; they're only 
open certain days a "eek, and the hours are in- 
convenient for a working man, and-" "You 
don't know anything about them, George," he 
sa} ", taking me up short; "for the Post-office 
Smings-banks that have just come up are open 
every day from ten to four, and you may put 
money in, and draw it out., whenever you like," 
" ,V ell, John," I says, "I'll see about it.." 
I did see about it, and found that one of the 
Post-office banks had been opened at Bardsley's, 
the tea-grocer's, in the next street. Bardsley's 
is our post-office and money-order office as well; 
and walking up the shop through an avenue of 
sugar-loaves, I found a clerk reading the news- 
paper. 
" I want to put some money in the new bank," 
1 says. 
The clerk never said a word, but placed a 
printed paper before me to sign. I read it 
over and signcd it, thereby declaring that I 
""as not directly or indirectly entitled to any 
deposit in tbat., or any other savings-bank, and 
that I submitted myself to the rules of t.he Post- 
offiee Savings-bank. The clerk then handed 
me a small paper book, about the size cf a penny 
memorandum-book, only it had a white cover 
with the royal arms at the top, and was printed 
all over with rules and rcgulations. 
"Sign your name on that line, across the 
inside of the cover," the clerk says. . I signed 
it. "That's your signature," he says, "for 
drawing out, and you should be particular always 
to use the same one." 
I t hen handed the clerk five shillings as my 
first deposit. He took tbe money, wrote in the 
book, "Number 857. 1862. Jan. 1. - -5," 
put the post-office letter stamp for the day 
against the entry, and the thing was donc. 1 
don't think I was more than five minutes in the 
shop altogether. The very next evening, whcn 
Susall alld I were sitting at supper, the post- 
man came to the door. Susan answered him, 
and Came back with a letter in bel' band. " Lor', 
George," she says, "it's a. letter, 'On Her 
MajestJ's Service;' whatevel' can it be about? 
I sllOuldn't wonder if it was the water-rates, 
for YUIl know the man bas callcd three times, 
and-" 
"There, let's open it," I says, "that's the 
best way to find out what it's about. It's all 
right, t;nsan," I says; "it's a letter from the 
Post master-General." "And whatever does he 
want?" Susan says. "011, nothing," I says; 
" he only "Tites to say that five slnllings ha\'e 
been lJlaced to my crcdit in the books of his 


II 


:, 
;/ 
II 
II 


;1 
I 


I 
;1 


department." ""\Y eU, it's verv condescending 
of him," Susan says, " for so little." " 1Vell,;' 
I says, "it's a guarantee that it's all right, 
anù there's his signature, 'Geo. Chetwynd.'" 
" Cheatwind!" Susan says; "are you 
ure it's 
all safe, George ?" " Safe as the bank," i says, 
"and safer; for the Queen, the two Houses of 
Parliament, and all the taxes, are security," 
I quite took a fancv to the Post-office Saviul'1's- 
bank when I found w how simple the machin
ry 
was, It was almost as handy as the drawer, to 
have a bank round the corner where you could 
buy your tea and suhar, and put your money away 
all at once, and \\ ithout ceremony. 1 was as 
pleased with it as a child" ith a pretty toy, and 
I liked the importance of receiving letters every 
llowand then "OnHedlajesty's Service." S'Jsan 
used to put the letters on tIle chimney-piece for 
people to see. It was soon the talk of the 
neighbourhood that I was bolding a corre- 
8pondence with the government, and it was 
reported that I was going to be appointed 
watchmaker to the Queen and the royal family. 
I passed tbe post-office t" ice every day on 
coming home to dinner and going back again 
to work, alld to walk in with my book and put 
away a few shillings, was just like dropping in to 
the public-house to have a glass of ale. And 
always the next day, whether it '\Vas pounds or 
shillings, I had a letter" On Rer 1I1ajesty's Ser- 
vice;" anù Susan would meet me at the door 
and say, "George, here's another letter from 
the Queen," and then we'd sit down after supper 
and count it up, and see how much I had at my 
banker's. I found putting money away in the 
Post-office Savings-bank so easy and so pleasant 
like, that I rather overdid the thing, and put 
more money away than I could spare, So one 
day I ra.n short, and had to draw out. It was 
almost as easy and ëxpeditious as drl\wing a 
cheque upon one of the big banks. At the post- 
office they gave me a slip of papel' with a form 
of withdrawal upon it, and addressed in print 
to the Postmaster-General on t he back. I had 
nothing to do but 1ìll in the number of my book, 
the amount I wanted to draw out, sign my 
name, double the bit of paper up, and shove it 
in the post. It. only took me about a minute, 
for the paper was ready gummed for sealing, 
and no stamp was required, it being marked on 
the back," On Her :Majesty's Service." It was 
two o'clock on Tuesday when I posted the letter. 
At four o'clock llext day I had an answer in the 
shape of a printed form, very similar to the notice 
paper. I had nothing to do but sign it and present 
it at the post-office, and the money was handed 
to me, the clerk marking off the withdrawal in 
my book. 
It's my belief that saving is a habit, like 
smoking, or taking snuff, or like extravagance. 
If ) ou begin it and go on with it for a little 
time, you come to ]Ja\"e a sort of passion for it. 
Whenever I had any spare easlJ, I was off to 
Bardsley's with it, and often when I thought of 
withdrawing some I didn't do it, saying to my- I 
self, "Oh, 1 can give notice to-morrow, or the 
ne
.t day, or any time I like;" and so perhaps I 
-
 



ALL TIlE YEAH. UOUND. 


Chari II DicL..cnll.] 


".LÏted and tided over the tern I lary difficulty, 
and didn't" ithdraw at all. 
About the bcgillDing of December, in 'Sixty- 
three, when I went to put in three pounds, the 
clerk wouldn't t.tke it. "" hat's up," I M}S; 
.. going to stop?" " 1\ 0," he bays; "but if 
vuu look at the rules and regulations in your 
bou}.., )ou'll find that you ain't allowed to put 
in more than thirty pounds a year." That, I 
believl', is to protect the rf"
ul,\r baulers, and it 
m,ty be quite ri
ht, but I dun't exactly see it. 
I know this, that befort: the new year, \\ hen I 
Illight bl gin to put in again, 1 hJ.d 
le\\ ('d that 
three pound "hich the clerl wouldn t tale. If 
it did any good to the re6ular banlers, it ecr- 
tainly didn't do any good to mc. HO\
ever, at 
the end of 'sixty-three, I had fifty pounds at the 
l'CI
t-office Savings-banl, and I lIIight havc had 
sixty, only I took a holiday in Au
ust, and "ent 
down "ith Susan for a week to 
?,lr
ate, "here 
\\ e \\ ere rather free. And here I found out 
'mother advantage of this \\onderful Post-office 
b.\nk. Susan and I went boating, and milling, 
and dri\in r in chaises, and rau short, and were 
likeh to lJe in a fix, until I looled over the 
rules and re
ulations in my bank-book, when I 
learned that I might withdraw my money at any 
Post-office Savings-bank in the l.ingdom, by 
gi,'ing notice to that effect. So 1 sent up the 
usual notice of withdra\\ al to London-I J..eep 
a dozen of them stitched together in a cover, 
and call it my cheque-book - stating- that I 
wanted to withdraw the money at the post- 
Qffice at 
[ar
ate; and, almost by return, back 
came the withdra\,al paper, and I had nothing 
to do but go to the post-office and get it cashed. 
And the forms don't cost you a f.lrthing; there's 
no postage to pay, and \\ hen the timc comes for 
you to send up your bool. to the chief office in 
London for the interest at two and a half per 
cent to be calculated and added to your account 
-which is the anni\Crsary of the day on which 
tbe first deposit was made-the PostmJ.ster- 
Gl neral sends you a big envelope for the pur- 
po
e. 

\ltogether, it's thc best regulated thing I 
C'oer came across, and if it doesn't make people 
sa"e, notbing will. But it docs, I'm sure. 
Look at Bardsley's shop now, to what it was. 
Why, that little box witb the pig-eon-hole, 
whue t h('y used to do the post-officc order 
busincss, has swollen into a great banking dc- 
partment, and there's 11l1rd
ley himself, with a 
del k to help him, at it all dJ.Y 10Ilg', "ith piles 
of bank-notes and bowls full of so, ereigns 
be 'de them - just lile 'l'\\ining's, or the 
Uank of England itself. Ban13ley's proud of 
it, too; I know he is. lIe's never behind 
t he counter now, serving tea and sugar; he 
Ie t\ es that to his young men; he's a banler, 
blr"" vou. 
I d
n't believe I should cver have saved an;- 
thing if these Post-office Savings-Lanls hadn;t 
come up; und I'm sure if it "as gcuer,tlly 
lno" n how handy and Com cnient they arC', 

 I thow,..mds lile m}sclf "ould tdle ad\,Ult"'
e of 
tht-lIt, aud soon learn to be c.m.!ul and pro\ i- 


[1Iarch 6, 1!144.] C;3 


dent. If thert:'s a philanthroJ-ist that's I ud up 
for an object, I don't lnow what hc could do 
better than go about distributing tracts st:ttinrP 
furth the rules and reg-ulations and advantag: 
of the Post-office Savings-banks. 


I 
II 
1{Y Criend 
hCHAEL A.
DERS"E
, late carpenter 
oC thJ.t ill-fated bark the }'LQWERY LA}, (), is a 
man of few words. l'hese being', for the most 
part, Nornegi.m, he h'ts a cert.1Ín dit!lculty in 
maling his sentiments clearly intelligiLle to the 
Britisb mind, and this difficulty is enhanced by 
the effect produced upon tht: poor fello" 's her- 
vons system, both by the murderous scenes he 
has v.itnessed, and his subsequent compuh >ry 
association of three "ee ks with the pimt ical 
gang who had mnrdered the captain and others, 
and seized the ship. Nevertheless, in the course 
of an hour's visit he latcly paid me, "ith refer- 
ence to obtaining a pa
'age back to Chri
tian- 

and, 
liehael related enough to male his expe- 
rience worth recording in the "story of Our 
lives from-year to year." 
It is no exa
gerat ion to say that, for the v. Lolc 
period I ha\ e mentioned-three weels-the 
man's life hung upon a bair. In his condcnsed 1, 1 
evidence given at tbe recent trial, Andersen 
stated that while standing at the top of the 
cuddy-stairs, and bcndiug over the mangled 
body of the mate, he was himself struck \vith 
a handspike on the back of the neck. This 
blow, which struck him half senseless down the 
steps, a fall of six feet, \\as no doubt intended 
to bave been deaJly. Lighting upon the 
neck and shoulder, it only occasioncd him a 
few da;)s' stiffness and pam, and warned hi:ll 
of the critical tenure on which he retained his 
life. 
There seems to have been little gcneral in- 
tercourse among the polyglot crew, but, fortu- I 
natcly for Andersen, he had establi
hed a sort 
of friendship with one of the )lauilla mis- 
creants - Lyons - \\ ho ultimately came forth 
as the leadmg s{)irit of the murderous con- 
spiracy. To tillS man's per
i::.tent intcrposi- 
tion, Andersen, the second mate, and the 
boy Early, were unquestionably indebted for 
their lives. 
Of these three, my friend :Michael stood in 
the mo
t imminent peril. The second mate was I 
nc...ded to navif;ate the ,esse\. The bo)-are- 
served and tinlld lad-"us held in contempt. 
o I 
c:arpenter \\as needed, and the very appearance 
of poor Andersen at any part of the ship gave 
such umbrage to the mutllleers, that, in spite of 
the opposition of his friend " Joe Lyons," as 
he called him, no day passed without its being- 
re
ol\"(.d to kill him bt:Core its close. So long as 
.. Joe Lyons" "as prt:sent, ')liehacl 

 com- 
parati, cly saCe. The tiellisl1 part of it was 
to sunÜe dnrin
 his r.atron's nn'lvoidahle dis- 
appearances. To f,telhtnte this proeC'ls, the 
J tt! er imparted c ,ery d"\} to his friend a r('
ular 
Ies
on in deportment, 
ugge::.ted by the e:Ü
ting 


A
IOXG PIRATES. 



II 
84 


piarch 5, lSG-1.J 


[Conducted lJy 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


: , 
feeling of each individual miscreant respecting 
him. 
"Keep clear of Lopez, this watch," Lyons 
would say; "if Santos Ol' 
lar
mlino speaks to 
you, don't look so cursedly sulky; they're all 
' I right just now. Flin
 tlH
t knife overboard, you 
(something'd) booby! Do you ,vant it in your 
own ribs? Now, mind this; if you see Blanco 
lounging about you with his hands in his pockets, 
sheer wide of him, d'ye hear? Don't go below 
for a moment to-day; they don't like it. Kecp 
out of all dark places, and, ,,"hen I'm on dcck, 
take your snooze." 
Such-though not conveyed in that precise 
lar.guage-were some of the directions :Michael 
had daily to observe, and were sent wcll home 
to his memory by the supplementary informa- 
tion his instructor had almost always to add- 
that his life was to be taken that dav, should 
the slightest pretext be atforded, and that e"en 
the manner of the deed, by knife, handspike, 
I s
un&, shot, or flinging overboard, had been de- 
I , " cldea on. 
I .With wits sharpened by this intelligence, 
I 
Iichael did, under a merciful Providence, 
weather the dangerous storm: preserved, as 
we know, to aid materially in t.he conviction 
of the merciless band, even of him who saved 
him; but whose conduct, with this exception, 
unhappily, presented no other feature of ex- 
tenuation. 
According- to Micllael, this deed of piracy and 
murder-one of the foulest in our annals-had 
its origin solely in cupidity. 'The vessel, a well- 
founù bark, of about five hundred tons, had 
more than the usual number of hands on board. 
The crew were all, ,,"ith one or two excep- 
tions, practised seamen, who knew their duty, 
and, in spite of the variety of languages, did it 
, I wcll. 
The unfortunate captain, :Michael declared, 
"was a very l1Ìce man." So also was the 
captain's brother, 'Who had been a master 
carpenter, and in whose employ :Miehael had 
purposed to remain, at Singapore. 
There was, according to .Michael, little or no 
ground for discontent on board-some occa- 
sional harshness of expression on the part of 
the captain not being worth taking into account 
-but an impression had got about among the 
men that the ship's frei
ht included a quantity 
of specie. It appears to have been a fact that the 
captain had with him certain bags of medals, or 
metal counters, burnished to look like sovereigns, 
and worth about a penny each. The sale of these 
impostors, in many parts of the metropolis, but 
especially near the river, is so common as to 
run no risk of deceiving the mo
t innocent 
purchasrr. Nevertheless, to t hru' unlucky 
preS"ence ill the" Flowery Land," was probably 
due the catastrophe which berd that unfortunate 
ship. 
1'001' :Michael, after all his dmlgers and 
escapes-not to mention the assistance he 
afforded in bringing the criminals to justice- 
ran some risk of perishing by starmtion in 
liberal England. lIe was indeed paid for llÏs 


attendance as a witncss; and, whilc so enrrarred 
wa
 provided ,,,ith a lodging at the hou
e 
f 
 
pohceman; but, the trial over, he was tmncd 
adrift.; and had it not been for the refuge offered 
by the Sailors' Home, and the kindness of a 
charitable gentleman who was present at the trial, 
would have been left in a state of actual dcsti- 
tution: his clothes, money, box of tools, &c., 
having gone down with the scuttled ship. As 
the vessel was insured for four or five thousand 
pounds, it might have been imagined tbat the II 
owners wouM have taken the poor man's case 
into their consideration. 
Narrow as Michael Andersen's escape has 
been, it was evcn surpassed in narrowness by 
that of a gent1eman-
Ir, S.-to whom a most 
extraordinary adventure occurred about twenty- 
five years since, but" hicb, never finding a place 
in the .Annual or othcr rcgisters of the time, 
may scarcely be remembered. 

Ir. S., who had held an appointmcnt in 
India.. and married, while there, a half-caste 
Malay lady of great bcauty, embarked with his 
wife at Singapore, on board a large country 
ship of eleven or twelve hundred tons burden. 
In the same vessel were placed a large number 
of Chinese convicts, goin rr to fulfil their respec- 
tive sentences at diffcrent 'àepôts. Now, instead 
of providing for these desperadoes a regular 
escort, it pleased the authorities to assemble a 
80rt of "scratch" pack, composed of Sepoys
 
pensioned and returning home, and of men 
who had been policemen, but who no longer 
were. 
They had been but a few days at sea, when 
Mr. S. was awakened one night by a disturbance 
on deck, and, rushing up, found a regular 
battle going on between the convicts (who had 
risen) and their inefficient guard: apparently to 
the disadvantage of the latter. Mr. S. quickly 
returned to his cabin, and was groping for his 
arms, when the captain rushed in, fired his pistol 
through the skylight, amI crying out that tbe 
Chinese were masters of tbe ship, darted up 
the steps, threw himself overboard, and was 
drowned. 
A few minutes of suspense followed, when a 
party of convicts came below, and, without 
molesting Mrs. S., ordered her husband on 
deck. Compelled to obey, he found the deck 
deluged with blood, and the victorious convicts 
compelling the survivors of the Britißh crew 
and Sepoys to " walk tlle plank." 
Present ly, it carne to :Mr, S,'s turn. Instead, 
however, of falling at once into the sea, he, with 
great muscular efforts, clung to the plank, and 
refused his fate. In vain the murderers tried 
to prod him with pikes. He dodged their 
points successfully, until, at length, a Chinese.., 
creeping forward on the plank, aimed a blow at 
him with a sabrc, In avoiding the stroke, 1111'. 
S. lost his hold, and fell into the sea, 
It. was midnight, the sea ,\"as full of slIarks, 
Mr. S. could not swim a stroke, the sbip "as in 
complete possession of the convicts, a thousand 
miles from land. Could any position seem more 
hopeless? Yet Mr. S. li,-ed to relate the story 


II 



CblLrleø Dickens.] 


(
Inrch :í, 18Ct.] 55 


ALL THE YEAR nOUXD, 


a friend of the not be induced to award '\gainst the actors in 
that cruel deed of piracy and murder any otber 
\ erdict tban co manslaughter !" 


at a. London dinner-party to 
writer's. 
III fall in 0', he caught a rope towing- over- 
board. By" this be hW1g', invisiblc, hearing 
successive victims f.\II, and distinguishing be- 
tween the dead aud li\ iug' bodics, by the absencc, 
in the former case, of the last frantic stru!!gle 
for existence. At length, his chilled fingers 
lost hold of the rope; but, at that instant, it oc- 
curred to him that he bad beard it affirme(l that 
if one who could not swim would ouly throw 
himself boldly on his back, keeping his head 
\Veil do\\n, he might float for an indefinite 
period. lIe did so, and floated; but e\-ery now 
and then his legs woulel sink lower and lo\\er, 
till at length one of them struck a hard sub- 
stance. 
trange as it may appear, it is a 
positive fact that he had unconsciously drifted 
into onc of the ship's boats, "hich, half sub- 
mcrged, was towing Rstern. Once aware of 
his position, he was able to sup r ort himself 
without difficulty till morning bro e, when he 
was discovered,. brou
ht on deck, and, to his 
utter astonishment, allowed to go to his cabin 
unmolested; not, howe....er, until he had seen 
the unfortunate En
lish mate, who had taken 
refuge in the rigging, brought down, ham- 
strung, aml left to bleed to death. 
The ship was now put about; and, undcr tllC 
charge of a native pilot, '\\ ho had been spared 
for the purpo
c, shaped her course for Chin:\. 
:Mr. S. "as confined to his cabin, and though, 
naturally, a prey to considerable anxiety, \HIS 
relieved from any immediate fear of death, ill3s- 
much as one or other of his captors eame every 
dav to inquire \\hat he would liLc for dinn('r ! 
in due time land \\as sighted, a bold headland, 
round" hich the pilot declared they must steer, 
although there presently appeared also a broad 
fine chaunel,dividin
 the headland from the main- 
land. In spite of the man's repeated assumnee 
that this was full of rOCkS, the Chinese, doubting" 
his good faith, compelled him to lay what seemed 
to them the shorter course and enter the chan- 
nel. Scarcely had they done w whC'1l the ship 
stranded. A hastv council was held, at which 
it was resoh cd thaf half the party should escape 
to land, sending- back the boats for the other 
half, \\ ho should then follow their comrade8, 
having first mnrdercd )1r. and 
Irs, S., and fired 
the ship. 
I The former part of the programme was duly 
('''{ecuted, and the boats "ere returnil1f!', when 
the three masts of a British sloop of war became 
visible, not a mile distant. She had seen the 
course of the devoted ship, and, knowing what 
must ensue, gave chase to pick up the pieces. 
Her boats were alread.v out, and no sooner 
came \\ithin hail than .Mr. S, made lno,,)} the 
state of affair3. In a momeut, the Chinese" ere 
on t heir knees prayin
 for their prisoncrs' inter- 
cession. The sloop's boats, properly armeJ, \\ent 
ashore and c.\ptured every individual of thosc who 
had landed. The \\ hole \\ ere recom eved to Sin- 
g-aporc, and probably not the least i'llnarlable 
I feature of the remarkable story is, that for some 
rcason bcst lnou1l to themsclns, the jury could 
,I 


FAIR DEX)IARK. 



IoST people have their T.:'ltima Thule on the 
map, beyond which all is shadowy tu ilight, 
terræ incognitæ, peopled by ichthyophagi, an- 
thropophagi, or U men '\\ bose heads do grow he- 
neath their shoulders." ,e Spain's an island," 
said one of the lights of the harem. To thp 
general reader, as well as to the general tra- 
veller, Denmark, as a whole, is an unknown 
region, bednning with its entrance-hall (by 
land), the Duchy of Holstein. 
The portal to the Danish lingdom for visitors 
from 'Western Europe (still by land) is Ihm- 
hurf!', a city unique after its kind-a Habel 
without its tower, a Bahylon "ithout its fall. 
Other towns and other provinces have bowed 
their heads to monarchic sceptres; Hambnrg 
retains its ancient constitution and its privileges 
as a free city. Its bourgomaster still bears the 
title of magnificent, and its senators have a 
right to be addressed as their wisdoms. A.midst 
the confusion of tongue
 which stuns the ear, 
the language of trade is univcrs:Üly understood; 
"money" is the password from one end of the 
town to the other. 'rhe Hamburgian babies 
learn to lisp it soon after they come into the 
world, the old men mutter it in their dreams 
before lyin!;' down to take t heir final sleep. They 
are prudent, and would give offence to no n"m. 
Once upon a time, a journalist had the boldne"s 
to state that French 
unpo\\ der \\ as better than 
Prussian. The censor of the press struck out 
the sentence, seeing that Prussia cannot be 
supposed to be, in any respect, inferior to 
France. Another writer translated a speech 
of the King of Sweden, in which he mentioned 
Asiatic cholera. 'rhe word " Asiatic" had to be 
suppre8!5ed, because Russia might take umbrage 
at it. Despite all which, the men of Ihlmbur
 
arc honourable, amiable, hospitable, and will 
honour a. letter of introduction as readily as a 
bill of exchange. 
Almost touching Hamburg, is .\Jtona, tllO 
capital of Holstein, the second city of the Dani
h 
dominions, and till.. {Iullest in the universe. It 
rimls London, ne\ erthele
", in baving a hand- 
some street called Pallmail. The scenery of 
Holstein, \\ ithout aspiring to the picturesfju('. 
is pleasing in its char3cter, Tbe farms. with 
their neat hed
es or 100v stone fences, h:\\e 
almost an :English look. Gentle knolls occur 
now and then, interspersed with little sheets of 
water. The clumps of beech around thf' e 
small lakes arc vocal "ith the nightingale. In 
general, there is little wood; but wherever it 
occurs, from its consisting of trees with glo y 
foliage, it tells well in f he landscape. 
In fact, the land is a. \'cry goot! land. The 
neatness of its little towns is \ ery striliug'. Of 
these, Hraunsted and :\eumul1<;ter are worthy 
of espccial mention. With their pa\ements as 



Sß [March 5, 1864.] 


[Conductrd by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


accurate as mosaic, houses of bright compact 
brick, avenues of elms forming- shcltered walks 
from end to end, and streets delightfully clean, 
they great ly remind the traveller of the highly- 
polished little towns of Holland. 
The system pursued in filling up vacant 
clerical charges is, as nearly as can be, that of 
uncontrolled popular election The parishioners 
mcet at the church on a day of which due inti- 
mation has been given by the ccclesiasticaJ judi- 
catory of the district. The only inhabitants of 
the parish who do not attend on these occasions 
are the proprietors of the larger estates; they 
absent themselves lest they should be suspected 
of influencing their tenants in behalf of some 
particular preacher. The candidates are gene- 
rally those young clergymen of the lleighbour- 
hood "ith whose pulpit ministrations the people 
are best acquainted. The names of these 
being duly proposed, every maJe parishioner 
who has received the sacrament votes for the 
person he prefers, and the appointment is given 
to him who unites the greatest number of 
,"oices. The system appears to work wcn, 
there. There are few instances of serious divi- 
sions among the people, and as few in which the 
Lest qualified candidate is not selected. 
Pretty little Kiel, in a snug bay let on the 
north coast of Holstein, receives, if not its vi- 
tality, at least a great part of its animation, 
from the fresh blood which flows through it in 
the shape of strangers. The steamers arriving 
from Copenhagen import objects of constant in- 
terest. Faces are seen in its peaceable streets 
which nobody has ever seen before, and dialects 
are heard whose interpretation would puzzle its 
learned university: which university, by the way, 
includes imprisonment amongst its modes of 
discipJine. He is no myth, that travelling stu- 
dent of dramatic notoriety, who, when asked by 
country acquaintances where he resided, frankly 
gave his address, "at the University Prison, 
Hcidelberg," 
But Kiel is best known to German idlers from 
I its attrt\ctions as a watering-place, notwithstand- 
ing the rivals it has to contend with. Cux- 
I I haven, Nordeuci, and Heligoland. But thous.;h 
these rivals stand on the North Sea, whose 
"atcrs are reckoned more restorative than those 
of the Baltic, yet Kid attracts a fair proport.ion 
of the thousands who annually flock from aU 
parts of Germany to some other part of Father- 
land. 
Holstein, for its present annoyance, is the 
joint which unites to the great German body the 
long straggling arm known as Continental Den- 
mark. The little duchv, hitherto best known for 
its agricultural fame, holds also a conspicuous 
place in the annals of the royal houscs of Europe. 
Its princely line has given kings to most of the 
thrones of the north, and if they all begin to 
squabble about it, there is no knowing where 
the quarrel will end. A different suppJy con- 
sists of cart-horses, the Holstein breed main- 
taining- its reputation as amongst the fittest for 
draught in the world. The dairies are also in 
I I high re pute. There are rnrms in the neighbour- 


hood of Kid where a couple of hundred cows 
are kept, and in whose storerooms a thousand 
cHeeses, ready for export, may be seen at one 
time. Though Kiel is somewhat sunk from its 
importance as the capit.al of the Gottorp portion 
of 
olstein (f?rmerly ?elonging to the imperial 
famìJy of RUSSIa), yet, III consequence of a brisk 

omm.erce anù some manufacturing spirit, the 
mhabltants have long been reputed wealthy. 
On doubling the Point of FaJster, after leavinO' 
Kiel, the steamer takes you between Zealand 
and an archipelago of islands scattered about on 
either side - poor little islets scarcely rising 
above the water's edge, covered with scanty 
grass and a few hovels, whose peasant inhabi- 
tants lead a life much akin to that passed on 
shipboard. 'The wind dashes the spray of the 
waves against their huts. The sea roars by day 
around the family table, and by night beneath 
the pillows on which they sleep, 'rhe sca is 
their element, their delight, anù their sorrow, 
their wide world, their boundary, Casting their 
nets therein, they reap their harvests. 
It is a popular tradition that some of these 
islets were made by enchanters, 'Who wished for 
greater facilities of going to and fro, and dropped 
them in th
 sea as stations on their way. At 
certain spots they are so close to each other 
that the sea no longer resembles a sea, but a 
mighty river like the Rhine, You distinguish 
the shore on either side; you can count the 
dwellings; and on Sundays, when the boat runs 
along the coast of Falster, you can hear the bells, 
and can respond to the hymns chanted inside 
the churches. 
A little further on, the natives will take you 
to the prow of the vessel and point with pride 
to a tall white mass of rock surmounted by 
several sharp peaks, and crowned with trees. 
What a geologist would call calcareous rock, is 
not a rock, but a beautiful young fairy who 
reigns over the island and its surrounding 
waters. The naked cliff is her white robe, 
which falls in graceful folds to the sea, and is 
diapered by the glancing sunbeams. The pointed 
pyramid is her sceptre, and the belt of wood her 
dIadem. J!'rom the summit of thc Dronnings 
Stol (the Queen's Seat), she surveys her em- 
pire and protects the fisherman's barque as 
watchfully as the merchant vessel. Thus does 
the popuJar imag-ination poetise material objects. 
Passing along the shores of a lake, it hears the 
water-sprites singing in their grottos, and be- 
holds the mermaids rising to the surface. Gazing 
at a hill of chalk, it discovers a queen there, and 
caBs it 1 he l\Ioel1sklint (the Maiden's Rock). At 
l\Ioensklint the sea resumes its open character, 
and the coast of Kiöge almost seems to retreat, 
to make way for the vessels which incessantly 
pass. Thence to Copenhagen the sea is covered 
with ships. Here, as elsewhere, the Baltic 
coast is full of traditions, some impressed with 
true religions feeling, others bearing the trace 
of paganism. 
In these islets everybody is acquainted with the 
history of elves and gíants, with mag-ic swords,aml 
treasures guarded by dragons. Thcy are the resort 



Charles Di!'kena.] 


ALL TIn: YEAH. ROL'"XD. 


['\larch :i. If' t.] 


bl II 


of mermen, \\ ith grf'cn brards and hair lil..e 51 :1- 
wecd streaming o,"cr their 
houldl'rs. \\ ho sing 
at evening alllou!?'"t t he breakers to entice the 
maidens, and bc'\
r thpm ofr to tlwir crystal grots. 
TI)('y hide sorcerers who. by force of enchant- 
ments, raise tempests to wrcek the boats of the 
fbhermen, ng..1Ïn:,t whom they bear a grud
e. 
'Ihey have ghastly huntsmen, conùemned lor 
their crimes to an endle:.s chase through thid..d 
and marsh. Prie:.t lsland reeals a saini!) lrg"('nd. 
There d\\ eIt on it a prir':>t named And('rs, n'\ cred 
by c\'cry one on account of his virtues, lIe \\ a') 
very poor. heing possessed of one penny only. 
But \\ hen he '" anted an) thing. he sent his pcnny 
to the dealer or thc labourer, who invariably and 
de\- ontlv returned it, \\ ith the addition of the 
thill p required. The i
land still retains its name, 
but 1l'lS, unfortunately, lost the manellous penny. 
At another part of the coa
t, a church f>llUL 
to the bottom of the sca, after bcing profaned 
by impio\1<; men. IJy night, )OU may hear the 
unhappy wrctches chant the penitenti,ll l )salms, 
intcrmingled with sobs and \\ailing-s. W len the 
sea is calm, you may see through the transparent 
\\ aves the lighted candles before the altar. :For 
their sins, they are condemned to bitter imprison- 
ment in this sunken church until the day of 
judgment. 
In the same neighbourhood, the sailors have 
often beheld, in the midst of tempests and b) 
the gla.re of lightning', a strange built \-essel 
hoistmg" an unknown flag. The captain and his 
crcw one day committed a great crime; and they 
are to wander over the waves, without halt or 
repose, till the end of the world. "When these 
poor maritime wandering J e\Vs perceive another 
H'sscl I\t a distance, they send off to it lctters 
for their relatiolls and frwnds. But the letters 
me addressed to persons who have not existed 
for centuries, and to streets with names lnown 
to no living creature. 
In }'alster Island there was once a very rich 
,",oman ",ho had no children. ,\ï
hillg to devote 
her fortune to {>ious uses, she built a church. 
which. when filllshed, appeared in her eyes so 
beautiful, that $he felt herself entitled to ask a 
recompense. She therefore prayed to be per- 
mitted to live as long as her church should stand. 
lIer de:.ire \Vas granted. Death passed before her 
door \\ ithout entering' it. He knocked at the 
doors of all her relations and frienùs, but did not 

ho\V her so mueh as the tip of his scythe. She 
lived unsc3thed through all the wars, through all 
the pl
gues and pest ilences, through all the 
famines \\ hich ra\ a:;cd her country. She Ii ved 
so 10nO', that 
he had nobody left to talk with; for 
she al\\a):i tall..ed of such ancient times and \\a)s 
that 1l0uoJv could understand her. But", ben 
she asLed i'or extension of life, she forgot to 
a L.. for a continuation of youth and middle agc. 

he recei\ed \\hat she beg
ed for and no more. 
Bile gre\\ older aud older. She lost her 8tren!!th, 
hcr sight. her hearing, and her speech. She 
then had herself shut up in an oalen coffer and 
c,lrried to the church. Once a Ylar, at Chri
t- 
IU. ", she recovers the use of her ..enses for an 
Lour, and every ycar, at that hour, the pric::.t 


approaches her to take her orden. CI then 
half upri es in her oalen chc\t, and &.ks, " Is 
my church still standin
?" "1 ss" 1'( plil'"S tbe 
priest. "" ould to Ilea\ en." bhe an'iwers, " it 
had fallen to the ground t" She then inks 
baeL.. with a deep sigh, and the lid of the coffer 
is closed again. 
\ poor sdilor. "bo lost his son in a sbip- 
wred.. went mad for grief. E\ery day be glts 
into his bO..lt and s,tils a\vay to the open 
 a. 
There, he rolls a drum \\ ith all his might, and 
calls to his son in a loud voice. "('OIllC. come; 
come out of your hiding-pl.lce! ::)\\ im hither, 
and I \\ ill put you beside me in my boat. If 
you are dead, I will give JOu a grave in the 
cemetery, a gra\e among the shrubs and 
(lowers. You will sleep better there th,1ll 
beneath the "aves." But he calls and 100I..s out 
in vain. At nightfall he returns, 
a}ing, 
"To-morrow, I will go further; my poor boy 
did not hear me." 

lost of these legends are melancholy in their 
character, and turn upon the differcnt phases of 
family affection. }'or instance: Dyrmg went 
to a distant j
lanù and took a handsome girl to 
wife. They lived together seven years, and she 
presented him "ith se\'en children. Then death 
came into the country, and carried off the wife, 
so fresh and so rosy. Dyring \Hut to a distant 
island, married another girl. and brought her 
home. But this one was unkind and hard- 
hearted. ,rhen she entered her busband's 
house, the seven children wept; they wept and 
",ere anxious. She repulsed them with lieI' foot. 
She gave them neither beer nor bread. and told 
them, "You shall sleep on straw, with nothing to 
covcr you." She extinguished the great torches, 
and said, "You shall remain in darlne8s." 
The children wept very late into the night. 
Their mother heard them, wherc she lay. under 
the earth. "Oh!" she cried, "that 1 eOlùd go 
and see my little children!" She prayed and 
prayed till she obtained permission to go and see 
her little children, on condition that, at coel- 
crow, she \Vould leave them. So the poor mother 
raised herself on her ""eary leg's, and climbed 
over the stone wall of the burial-ground. She 
traversed the village, and the dogs howled as 
they beard her pass. She reached tbe door of 
her f?rmer dwelling; her eldest daughter was 
standmg there. 
"What are you doing hef(" my child?" she 
asled. " lIow are your hrothers and sisters ?" 
" You are a fine grand lady, but JOU are not 
my darling mother. :My mother's checls were 
\\ hite and red, whilst you are as pale as death." 
".Aud how can I be white and red, ane!' 
reposing so long in my coffin ?" 

he went into the chamber; her little children 
were there with tears ou their ehe 'ks. She took 
one and comhed it, smoothed the hair of anotber. 
find caressed a third and a fourth. She took 
the fifth in her arms and opened her bo:.om to 
it. Then. callin rr her eldest ùau!!hter, "Go 
and tell Djring tg come here," she said. When 
D
ring came, 
he spoke to him angrily. cc I 
left ) ou beer and bread, and my child.rcn are 



I 88 pIarch 5, 18G4.] 
I 
hungry and thirsty. I left you blue cushions 
I and coverlids, and my children sleep on naked 
I straw. I left you tall flambeaü
, and my 
children are in darkness. If you often make 
me thus return by night, misfortune will come 
I i I of it." At this the mother-in-Iaw'exclaimed, 
" Henceforward I will be kind to your children." 
I And from that day, whenever the husband and 
I I wife heard the dogs growl, they gave the children 
beer and bread; and when they heard them howl 
II and bark, thf'Y went and hid themseh-es, lest they 
; I sh



 Ke
n
i
:v
::
 a
:



g
:d s



:

\I
ten 
! I in the national language of Denmark. They 
I contain, amongst others, the touching history of 
Queen Dagmar (Aurora, or Daybreak), who, for 
seven years, was adored by the king- and his 
people, and who died in .May, 1212. Her 
arrival in Drnmark is thus related: 
King' Valdemar and his noble, Strange Ebbe- 
son, are sitting' in the castle hall, and are dis- 
coursing torrether. 
"Do you Tlear, noble Ebbeson, what 1 tell you P 
I You will set out for Bohemia, from whence you 
will bring me back my young bride." 
i I Noble Ebbeson, of handsome mien and elo- 
quent speech, replied, "If I go to Bohemia, 
I who will accompany me P" 

 , I "Choose first," replied the king, "the young 
Lord Limbek and Olaf G!ück; choose the rich 
I Seigneur Peter Glob and others, according to 
your likin"." 
At their departure, the king accompanied 
I them to the shore with a numerous and brilliant 
suite. For three weeks they sailed over the 
I azure waves, and when they caught sight of the 
land of Bohemia they gaily saluted it. They 
cast anchor, furled their sails, and landed. The 
retinue was dazzling to behold, preceded by the 
noble Ebbeson. 
"God be with you, King of Bohemia! You 
are a prince worthy of all honour. King Val- 
demar of Denmark sends me to you; he loves 
your daughter, and demands her hand," 
The king then entered his palace to consult 
with the queen. "There are some noble seig- 
neurs from Denmark, who are come to take our 
I daughter away. If mighty Valdemar desires to 
I esponse her, we will leave her to these brilliant 
I' lords, and give a rich dowry with her hand." 
; I They dressed the princess in blue silk anc1led 
i her into the great hall. "Here is the princess 
II herself, so beautiful in modesty and virtue." 
'l'hey then brought the chess-board and the table 
of massive gold, that the noble Ebbeson might 
. I play" ith t he princess and. com.erse with her 
alone. At the third move they were agreed; 
: ; I noble Ebbeson had ,,'on a good wife for his 
king. The silken carpets were spread on the 
11 ground, and a long train acconlpanied the prin- 
cess to the place of embarkation. She bade 
adieu to her dear parents, and they blessed her 
; I fr
)}n a distance. She ,vas gentle alld delicate. 
I She arri\'ed by the island of :Manöe, to the west 
I of Sehleswig. The King of Denmark made his 
: I horse prance on the shore of Ripen. 
"Noble Ebbeson," asked the princess, "be- 
II 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


fore we land, tell me who is that bold cavalier 
who rides to and fro along the bank P" 
" You are "elcome, princess," replied Ebbe- 
son; "but do not speak so loud. It is King 
Valdemar of Denmark, come to offer three 
crowns to his bride." 
" Shame on you, noble Ebbeson ! Have you 
deceived me P Has King Valdemar of Den- 
mark only one eye P" 
"King Valdemar is a hero worthy of the 
blood of Grlog; he has reconquered for Den- 
mark all the land to the north of the Elbe. Such 
glory must needs be purchased by something." 
The wedding was brilliant, and the young 
couple loved e1eh other from the bottom of their 
hearts. It was a happy time for all in Denmark. 
Queen Dagmar took care of the honest peasant; 
he lived without burthen, and in peace, She 
was the sweetest flower in Denmark's garden. 


DR. PEREGRINE'S PAGE. 
I. 
IN one of the earlier volumes of my diary I 
find the following passage: 
"Tuesday, January 17th, 18-. This morn- 
ing, at half-past three A.M., poor John Bentmore 
expired. Conscions to the last-full of self-con- 
demnation for errors which were more those of 
judgment than intrntion ; pious, earnest, humble- 
minded, he died, bittedy accusing himself of 
having injured his boy's prospect5, A touching 
end. I promised to befriend his child. How 
shall I fulfil that promise P" 
Of all my humble protégés, John Bentmore. 
was the most grateful, and the least satisfactory. 
He was emphaticaHy an unlucky man. Nothing 
prosJ2ered with him. He had tried everything. 
Sernce in all sorts of capacities, He had been 
a greengrocer, a lodging-house keeper; a 
traveller for a wine merchant; a traveller in 
the grocery line; foreman to an upholsterer. I 
got up a subscription for him, and fitted him out 
for Australia; but in less than two years he was 
back again, with little besides the clothes which, 
to use his own expression, he stood upright in. 
By-and-by he set up for himself in ìhe up- 
holstery trade with capital borrowed from one 
of his old employers, He had been brought up 
to it, his father having been an upholsterer; 
and he oUg'ht to have understood it himself. 
But his ill luck, or rather his want of busmess 
habits, pursued him still. He employed the best 
men; he bought the best materials, Yet, his 
wood alwavs warped; his blinds never ,yorked 
properly; w his carpets \Yore white; his very 
nails never held. He was wont to admit him- 
self with a sigh, as he wiped the perspiration 
from his brow, that " there was a many 
complaints. He didn't know how it was, but 
there was a many complaints. H 
At last he sunk under his ill fortune. On his 
death-bed he accused himself bitterly, and 
bewailed the destitute state of his son, ",hose 
future prospects naturally formed his chief 
anxiety. I had much ado to reconcile him to 
the idea of the boy's seeking his living (at any 


I 
I 
I 
., 
I 
d 
I 



ALL THE YEAIl TIOUKD. 


Charles Diclcene.] 


rate in the first instance) by servitude, and I 
undertook, before I sought a scrvicc for Arth
r, 
to induce 
1r. :i\Ioreen, the upholsterer-wIth 
"hom John Bentmore had li,eù b,ice as fore- 
man-to employ him; but John's hopes on this 
hrad were slight. "IIe won't do it, sir," he 
said, with a sigh of self-reproach; "and I don't 
deservc that hc should. lIe's a just man- Mr. 
?\loreen. And I-I owe him money. I owe him 
í\ large sum of money, and he's not one to O\.er- 
I look that. If indced bc \\ auld let the boy work 
I I for him any number of years "ithout "ages, 
l aud so })ay him off what I o\\e, that would be a 
Llewsed thing! but he won't do it! he \\ on't do 
' I it, sir. I hare cnra
cd him; nnd Mrs. Moreen 
: I -she cau't O\'erlook his baving lent me the 
money; 110t but what it would be the best 
thing- thc,y could do to get paid; for Arthur 
"ould do Lis duty by them, I'm sure of that. 
!Ie's very difl'erent from me, you see, sir-a 
I deal better. lIe's got twenty times my head for 
, figures, and book-keeping, and that. He'll make 
II a first-rate man of business, will Arthur. They 
say at his school, that he's an uncommon turn 
I I for mathematics. It is a pity, ain't it, to make 
a menial of such a lad as that p" 
I And the father looked proudlv and fondly at his 
I hoy, who was seated in the "hospital window 
i intent upon a book; and a single tear roUed 
down upon bis pillow. 
II Thc bour came at last. He fixed on his boy 
n glance of loving recognition, Rnù the tender 
light faded a\\ ay; in its place there came a film, 
and aU was o\'er. 
II. 
Arthur Beutmore had not complctcd his thir- 
teenth year "hen his father died. IIe was tall 
for his age, \\ ith small and "ell-cut features. The 
moutb was full and handsome; but the com- 
prcssed lips, and square chin, indicated firm- 
ness, whilst the singularly promincnt cJes had 
in them a thoughtful abstraction unusual in one 
II so young. I had learnt from 1\11'. Gillics, his 
schoolmaster (whom I had met morc than once 
by his father's bedside), that he Was studious anù 
persevering, though not particularly clever; and 
from the fathcr himself, that he was dutiful and 
obedient in no ordinary degree, But my own 
obscrvations had served rather to puzzle than to 
enli
hten me, although at one conclusion I had 
alTiH,d, namely, that he was resen-ed even to se- 
creti\'eness. His nature seemed to be one of those 
which, to open at all, must be wrenched open, 
I1is father'l) affairs were set in order ,Üth as 
little delay as possible. 'Whell all was sold, 
scarcely enough remained to pay the funeral 
and other necessary expenses; nothing \\ hatever 
towards dcfra
ing Mr. 
Ioreen's debt. I had 
clothed the bo.v in decent mourning', and paid 
ll
s small arrears of. schooling 1\1) self, taling 
hlln for the moment 1I1to my own lodging; and 
uow I felt it "as time to thil
k of }Jutting" him 
in some way of caming an independent Ii ...eli. 
hood; but it was not" ilhot!t thc utmost diffi. 
cultyand considerable cxercise ot patience, that 
I wrung from him the confession that he '\\ ould 
rather be an upholsterer than a sen"ant. 


['I -1 :i , FCt.] 59 


I took him to )11'. Moreen, whom I had Ion" 
been in the habit of attending professionaUÿ 
and wbo I belie, ed had a rcal regard for nle: 
I would make an attempt in that quartcr. After 
all, it could but fail. 
:Mr. Moreen was a huge, sturdy, ruddy-faced 
giant, \\ orking hard, li,-in" generously, doin.... 
busincss, as business should be done, in abusE 
ness-like way. lIe piqued himself on the quality 
of his mal uials, and the excellence of his" ork- 
manship, and \Vas "ont to look "ith an eye of 
somethiug" like contempt on any "ork but his 
o"n. Though as straigblfol"\mrd, 3hrewù, and 
e'\.perienced a tradesman as London ever pro- 
duced, he "as completelv under the thumb of 
his wife. He came do"ñ to us llOW, from tbe 
comfortable meat tea he had been enjoying with 

lrs. M. (as he respectfully caned her) and the 
children, wipin
 the crumbs from his mouth as 
he entered. lIe smiled on seeing me; but cast 
a sharp glance of something likc disfavour on 
my companion; '\\ ho, pale and slender, looked 
above his station in his new mourning suit, re- 
lieved by an inch or hoof bis father's gold 
chain, that peeped from his waistcoat. I said 
it bad been his late foreman's last wish that his 
son should be brought up to the trade he had 
followed himself, and that he had not been "ith- 
out hope that Mr. :Moreen would permit tbe 
boy to be in his shop, at least for a "hile. 
;rhe upholsterer heard me attcnti,cly to thc 
end. He was not one to speak b3stily, nor yet 
Olle to minec matters whl'n he did speak. He 
knew his own mind, ill gcneral-'\\hen ::\lrs. .M. 
was not by. 
"Sir, I wouldn't ba,-e a son of John Dent. 
morc's iu my shop, not if you was to pay me 
all he 0\\ ed, and fifty pounds more to the back 
of that. I've haù enough of the fat her; I 
don't want 110 more of the lot. That boy'll be 
just like 'em all-turn out as bad as the rest. 
John Bentmore used me ill, sir. I trusted him, 
and he deceived me, He deecived me." 
"Kot wilfully!" I interrupted. "When he 
borrowed that money, lie intended to repay it." 
"I trustcd him, and bc dcceivcd me," J.1 r. 
)Ioreen resumed, llot condescending to notice 
my interruption. U lIe promised in black and 
white, that he would pay back that money 
before the year were out, and he never paid me 
a shilling of it-no, nor meant to it. There's 
no hon
stv in tbe Llood, that's wbere it is! 
there's noW honesty in the blood! :Eighty-sc\en 
pounds nine shillin
s and threcpence that mall 
0\\ cd me, and I shall llC\'er see a farthin
 of it. 
X 0, sir, I thank you; but I'll bavc nothing to 
do \\ ith his boy." 
" }'athcr "ould havc tried to pay you, if 11e 
had livcd, sir!" Artbur's young voice "as beard 
to say; "I know be wou1J. b
vc done Lis best 
to pay you." 
I glanced at thc boy. He was pa1e, and the 
perspiration stood in beaJs upon his forehead. 
His cyes, full of an eagcl' and glowing light. 
were lixed intently on the uphobterer. 
y 
heart bled for him. It was cruel to speak thus 
of his dead father in his prcsencc. 



uo 


[Uarch 5, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


i' 


ALL TIlE YEAR ROUKD. 


"Kot bc!" :Mr. :Moreen replied, putting his 
hands into his waistcoat-pockets, and jingling 
llis loose silver, with a dogged kind of careless- 
ness. "Not he! 'twasn't in him, 'Twasn't in 
him, no more than 'twas in his brother Charles, 
"ho died some cight or nine 
 cars ago, decp in 
debt. He was another of the same sort-alwa,"s 
borrowing, nerer rasing nobody again-ah\ aj s 
in trouble and difficulties-and pl'ison (",ith a 
strong emphasis). It's in the blood. There's 
no backbone among them! And the boy's one 
of them. Of course !" 
He jerked out these sentcnces with strong 
I c'Jntcmpt, making short pauscs between c3.ch, 
I that sf'emed to add tenfold weight to his \\ ords. 
I I felt indignant at the cruelty of such re- 
marks, before a lad whose parent '\"as scarcely yet 
cold in his grave. ":Mr. Moreen," I said, "you 
,I have a perfect right to refuse to employ the lad, 
but you lwre no right to wound him, by casting 
bitter reflections on the memory of his father." 
i I " Sir," said :Mr. Moreen, taking one square 
brawny hand out of his pocket, and stretching it 
i I towards me wit h a gesture of power, "I speak as I 
I find. Youforgeta..s.I'veboysmyself-amanyboys." 
He heaved a sIgh, that seemed to come from 
some cavernous depths, and made a kind of 
I draught in the shop. " I've no less th3.n five of 
'em, and Mrs. :M, expecting again in Oc- 
tobcr. Sir, them boys look to me to be feò 
and clothed, and put in the way of feeding and 
I clothing their o
n sel<<s. I've enough to do 
for them. They're brought up strict, and honest, 
and hard, they are-not taught to give them- 
selves airs-not dressed like youug Eton gents. 
What they wears is paid for, honest and reg'lar. 
I should scorn to borrow money for 11/Y boys." 
He turned away, and bending a little forward, 
seemed to be examining a piece of old oak fur- 
niture that stood near. But his thoughts were 
evidently not with that. A moment afterwards 
he resumed in a somewhat deprecating tone, as 
though willing to justify himself to me. "You 
see, sir, I've had little comfort since the day 
when that money was borrowed, Mrs, M., 
she'll never overlook it. Nev-er overlook it. 
Not if she lives to a hundred, She has her 
ideas, has 
Irs. M., and her opinions. Strong. 
She was always against lending of it. :Many a 
time she says to me, says she, ' Mark my words, 
M. Don't you trust that Bentmore-he's a 
slippery fellow.' If you please, sir," said :Mr. 
Moreen, suddenly taking his hands from his 
pockets, and changing his tone to one of un- 
common briskness, by way of changing the sub- 
ject, "if you please, sir, we'll say no more about 
it. Only 1 won't have nothing to do with his lad." 
And so we parted. 


III. 
A page's place was soon found for Arthur 
Rentmore ; and a good one. One of my patients 
I willingly engaged him, inexperienced as he "as, 
: after l
e d ari
)g l thc d P
r I ticuI S ars ll ' of his stOl" k Y. fr I o 1 m 
me. .c1. nura an .1\ rs. U 1van '" ere 'lllC y, 
I liberal people, living alone, spoiling" their ser- 
1_ \" ant 
 as the) ,rould hare spoilt the ir children 


if they had had any, laying themsch c;:; out f'J be 
imposed upon in a hundred ways, on all sides. 
Their butler, Mr. Tapps, having decanted their 
wine, and imbibed the greater palt of it, for two- 
aud-t.went y years, was looked upon Ly them as a 
priceless treasure. Their coachman, a corpulent 
but lenient man, allowed them the use of their 
horses for an hour or two occasionally, ,,-hen 
his wife thought it good for him to drive; nor 
was there a pair in all London that could match 
his for sleek and decorous slowness. The ladv's- 
maid had ruled her mistress ,,"ith a yard meas'ure 
of iron for thirty years, and was loòked upon by 
that lady with a truly filial respect. The cook 
had grown fat on the proceeds of that which sbe 
sold out of hcr lm.urious kitchen. The house- 
nJaid and scullery-maid might as yet bc con- 
sidered babies in the service, having been onlv 
three and four ) ears in the family; but, influ- 
enced by the gencral tone of the establishment, 
they were of course prepared to rcmain there 
(if spared, and not ta1..en possession of by the 
baker or the greengrocer) half a century at least. 
Everyone of the domestics spoke of the house, 
and all it contained, as theirs. It was "our 
plate," :' our carriage," "our dinner-parties," 
"our umforms," " our court dresses," and" our 
diamonds." 
The first thing done by the treasure, 
Ir. 
Tapps, on t he new page being respectfully pre- 
sented to him by his mistress in my presence, 
was to alter his cognomen to that of Jeames. 
He could not bc expected to call him any other. 
Of course not. J eames were the proper name 
for a page, and had bcen ever since he were a 
page himself. "And if you does as I tcll you," 
said Mr. 'l'apps, with dignified emphasis, turning 
to the ci-devant Arthur, and mingling encourage- 
ment \\ ith the stcrn dignity of office, "if you 
does as I tell you, and minds nothing nor nobody 
else, you'll do well enough in time, I des-say." 
During the page's probation, the reports of 
his cond
lCt were excellent. Mrs. Sullivan had 
nothing to say but in his praise. Tapps, the 
treasure, spoke highly of him. Tapps was en- 
tirely satisfied. He had broken wonderfully 
little crockery for a raw lad in his first service, 
and there was a marked improvement in 11Ïs 
double knocks. 
I was sitting one morning in my consulting- 
room, having just dismissed the last of my gra- 
tuitous patients, when my page (I called him 
my page, from having put a guiding hand to his 
destiny) called upon me. He looked thin and 
ill, and paler even than usual. 
"N othing wrong, I hope P" I said, thin1..ing 
that the boy grew too fast, and that he ought to 
be well nourished, and not overworh.ed, 
"Nothing, sir. I came to speak to you on a 
little matter that-" 
He paused. 
" What is it P" 
"1Vell, sir, I came to ask you-that is (cor- 
recting himself, as though he had not been 
sufficiently respectful)-I made bold to come 
and ask 
 ou, if you would kindly ta1..e care O _ f __ ' , I 
th is money for me, sir 1" _ 



('h 
 II n ken II.] 


ALL TIlE YEAR HOeXD. 


lRM] 


" I 
JIr took from hi;:, wai;:,fC" ît-l'ockeL omrtllil1!! 
wrd}'Pf'd in a piec of (Jill lle\\ ,lapel', open d it, 
amI 
pread it on the tabl There" ere tllrC C 
half-crowns, one shilling', a . ixp('ncf', and thre...- 
penrc in coppers, 'l'!t..t amcJI'nt ,'as also set 
do\ n on a little square of white paper, in clear 
figure'!, "hieh r supp u
d to be Ins. 
"C. rtainly," I said. .. I \\ ill keep this for 
you, if) ou wi:.h it. What is it for?" 
Ht, \\as silent. 
U J s it for any partieuJar objt 
t ?" 
U ,\ ell-ye , sir," 
U l>f'lhaps you would rather not tell me?" 
l1e cOllsidered a moment, and then anS" cred 
th'\t " It is toward') payin
 that debt." 
"'l'hat debt! What debt i''' 
"}'athcr':s debt to Mr. Moreen, you know, 
sir. Father owed him eightJ -se\ en pounds nine 
shiUin
s and threepence," he said. 
I looked at the liule heap of money on the 
tabl(>, and involuntarily smiled. 
U .My good boy, you don't hope that you can 
pay such a sum as 
hat.?" 
U I mean to pay it, sIr." 
U You may mean to pa) it, and it shows an 
hOllesty of intention that I cannot too highly 
commend; but you can't pay it, my boy. Nor 
would 
Ir. .Moreen drcam of expecting you to 
do so. It \\ ould tale a lifetime of service to 
payoff such a debt as that. Let me see. 'VlIat 
I are Jour wages p" 
" Eight 
uineag a year, sir, two suits ofli\'ery, 
and one "orking suit, one hat, and eightccn- 
pence a week for beer." 
"Tell me "hat put this ide:! into your head ?" 
" 
Ir. Moreen, sir." 
"
lr. :Moreen! Have you seen him, then?" 
"
o, sir; not again; but you remember, sir, 
he said that-" 'l'he boy paused, and taking 
a step forward, added vcry low, as though ,\ hat 
he was about to utter was too dreadful to b'" 
spok(>n aloud-" that there was no honesty in 
the blood-no hon sty in tM blood, sir!" 
I felt a !!reater interest in him at that moment 
than I had e\er done before. It was evident to 
me now, that the boy had strong and deep feel- 
ings, though from some cause he never gave 
them expression. 
" Now, don't lct those words rankle in your 
mind, Arthur," I said, kindly, laying' my hand 
upon his thin shoulder; "1\11'. :Moreen was 
angry when he said that, and not without cause, 
as you know; for your father-well ! Your 
father did him an injury. People say things 
when they're angrv, that they don't hold to 
afterwards, We all do." 
"1\11'. Moreen 1l:ill hold to it. He believes 
it, sir. He said" e were a bad lot, all of us. 
He s1id 1 should turn out as bad as the rest. 
Ue said there "as no honesty in the blood." 
'rhe boy still spoke low, hut\Üth rapid utter- 
ance, and as though he had repeated those words 
again and ngain to himself scores of tinu''''3. 
"Tale L.LCk this monev," I said. "I will 
answer for it th'\t 
Ir. 
[õrcen "ould "ish you 
to do so. I know him better than, ou do; and 
I am certain that the last thing he "ould dre.Lm 


r u 



l 


(If d Jill
, "ould be to t 
e the littJ earu 9 
of a pOur hi 1 lik,. you." 
" 1 ean't tale back that me ne
, ;:'11. 
There was a pause. .. 
"Slldll I t.Sk 
Ir. More 11 to e')nsent t re- 
cc>ive 
t, as a r
,oor of )our hon.. 'It d....i.e to r y 
"hat 1:. 0\\ cd !' 
He bccame excited immediateJ). 
" Oh pray! pra.'1 don't do that, sir! J sh 'II e 
sorr) I told \ ou at all, if you do. Pray k ) it 
for me, sir; Just as it is. Only k.eep it for the 
 re- 
sent, and say nothing- to him-nothing to h ." 
Hc seemed to lav the matter so much to he rt, 
t hat, after a few more ineffectual remon
tran -', 
I cODsent<.d to humour him. So 1 st::aled up 
the money in his presence, writing on the out- 
side that it was a deposit of Arthur Bcntmoll 
. 
I did not forget to tell )Irs. Sulli\ an tint I 
was less satisfied with her page's looks, than 
she" as with his conduct; th,\t he was g-rowinz 
too rapidly, and "as more emacidted than I 
liled to sec. He should be genero1looly fed, and 
above aU, not be stinted in his slet-p. She a
1 <i 
with me as to the alteration of hi 100L ;- 
said she had her
clf felt uneasy about it; h..d 
intended to ('onsult me in the matter; and sum- 
moned The Treasure to our conference. 
Tapps had volumes to say on the subject: 
no boy, especially a growing boy, couldn't ex- 
pect to be stroll!
, that didn't tale kindly to 
his beer; which J eames, he never h,lIi from the 
first. Jeames was a stran
e boy. There was n t 
knowing' where to have him. He ne\ er t00... a 
drop 0' beer from one mOnUl'g end to ano
her, 
didn't Jeames! Why not, Dr. Pere!!rine 
would a
k? "hich of course-why not? \\ hy! 
he actually preferred water! But Sl.me \\as lt
e 
that; and a great misfortune too. It \T" _ n't 
for the savin
 neither. Jeames "as a stran;e 
party. In fact, 
lr. Tapps had never lnown bllt 
one other like him-and he was a very str:w:::o'C 
party indeed. 
Time passed on; and I felt so entire 1 . at 
ease about the boy-so satisfied that he \nuld 
now do well without anv help of mine-tlJ · I 
troubled m) self but little about him. lIe had 
been out of town with the familv, and had 
rown 
so tall, that he overtopped Mr. 'l'apps; a lil erty 
which must h'\ve seemed :.trange to the well re- 

ulated mind of that indi"idual. His mis
ress 
had been obliged to promote him froIL buttoll
 
to a regular Ii very; and in the social intf'rcour-.e 
of the !)cn ants' hall, he was now" our footL 
n." 
Thus satisfactorily clo..ed his second yell' of 'r- 
vice; but with the opening of the third, came the 
startling intelli
ence that he was "le.lvin; to 
better himself!" 
I did not attend Lady Fethcrstone, Art} nr's 
new mistress, and, therefore, saw le"s of him 
than before; although I did oc,.. iùnally ( · h 
a 
limpse of him on the box of hi::, lady'" v, 1- I 
fashioned barouchc, during my r rofe ional - I 

r('sses : till at length the c1o"el 
huttcN of l' 
J.LdJ ship's house in Bumption-str...et, indi(' d 
that she, her companion, her "'')do
, and he 
rest of the cootablishment, had adjoul ned for e 
autumn to Tunbridge WelL. 


I' 



,I !I
 


[March Ii, ISC4.. 


[Conducted by 


ALL TilE YEAR ROUND. 


1\, 
One morning in the following June I "as 
a" oke at about half-past six o'clock, by a 
peculiarly sbarp ring at my professional door- 
bell. I bad been up all night with a patient in 
dangerous circumstances, and had scarcely been 
asleep a couple of hours; but I could not. be 
insensible to the shrill urgency of that appeal. 
I "as wide awake in a moment, There was a 
short pause, a muttered colloquy hetween. my 
housemaid and some one else; she knocked at 
my door (I slept on the ground floor), and, open- 
ing it, showed a pale and startled countenance. 
" Sir! sir!" she said, in hurried tones, 
C< Arthur Bentmore is come for you direcUJ-a 
dreadful thing! the butler at Lady Fetherstone's 
lias destroyed himself !" 
I was soon at the scene of the catastrophe. I 
found a IJoliceman already there in charge of the 
body, aua, percei-ring at once that life had been 
extinct. some hours, 1 lost no time in going up to 
the lady. She had recovered from her swoon, but 
"as in a fearful state of nervous excitement, and 
for some time it ,,-as unsafe to leave her; for 
the shðck seemed to have partially unsettled her 
reason. After a while, ho,,-ever, the remedies I 
employed began to produce the desired effect, 
and I had the satisfaction of seeing her at last 
gradually sinking to sleep, with. her hand 
clasped 111 that of Arthur's former mIstress, ::\Irs. 
Sullivan. 
The scene in that house was a shocking one 
to " itness. The mother and sister of the 
suicide hung over his mangled remains with 
tears and groans of anguish; whilst the :3ervants 
of the establishment, distracted at the tra 6 ical 
end of one with whom they lmd lived in daily 
companionship, were totally unable to afford 
them any comfort. 
The cause of t he catastrophe was soon but 
too clear. The mi:::guided man was known to lmve 
been long in the. habit of bettiug; and it came 
out, through a fnend who had chanced to call at 
the house, una" are of what had happened, that 
he had lost so large a sum the previous day at 
the Derby, as to make it easy to understanà 
that he dared not face the ruin such a debt 
must bring upon him. 
I was in and out of Lady Fetherstonc's house 
constantly that day. Her staunch friends, Ad- 
miral and 
Irs. SulliymI, insisted upon it. Thus 
I had ample opportunit.y of obserring the con- 
duct of Arthur, under circumstances not a little 
trying to one so young. Of all the inmates of 
that house, he ""as the only one who sèemed to 
retain composure, or commOn sense. Korhing 
tends to re-settle nenes that llaye been Ull- 
usually excitcd-especially sel'\"ant
' ncrves-so 
much as the sight of a calm and matter-of- 
fact attention to the small duties of lifc. )1rs. 
Cook bcgan by taking no notice of what J eames 
"as about, and continuing her spasmodic hea\"- 
iugs and groanings; but after a little she could 
110t resist watching to see how he did what she 
ought to lmre been doing: from watching she 
got to correction and advice; and finally shc 
cou.desccnrlingly approached, and began to rectif
" 


his errors. 'Yhen I entered the kitchen to pre- 
scribe for her--;-having been informed by thc 
under housemaId that she" as at the point of 
death-l found her with a Yer) red face, in thc 
midst of an animated argument with J eames as 
to the proper management of gravy. 
"hcn the lat tel' was interrogated as to the 
butler's habits of life, SOllle curious particulars 
came out, It appeared that the man neyerdid any- 
thing in the house cxcept wait at table, and 
occasionally open the door in the absence of the 
foohn
n. H.e wa.s very rarely at home; often 
spendmg entIre lUghts out, aud returning about 
six in thc morning, "hen he was always let ill by 
Arthur, ,,-ho, summer rold winter, rose at five. 
.When pressed as to his 0\\ n reasons for rising- 
so early, he hesitated at first; but at length 
replied that he alwaJs occupied himself about 
his own affairs before six o'clock, "hen he 
considered his day's work for the family ought 
to begin. Did his mistress know of her butler's 
proceedings? He could not say. Mr. Jacobs 
(the butler) had a key of the house door. He 
had mentioned to him that he did not wish to 
have this spoken of, as it might occasion un- 
pleasantness; aud he should be sorry to lose 
the com enience. 
1ras he aware of Mr. Jacobs's practice of 
betting? He '\Vas. Had he evcr been iuduced 
himself to do the like? No answeI'; and the 
question was, aftcr a little discussion, withdra,,-n. 
Had he had any suspicion of the butler's losses 
at Epsom? He had had. 
But, in spite of the quict and self-possessed 
manner in which Arthur had gi,'en his evidence, 
and its undoubted truthfulness, there was yet 
something about him ,,-hieh (although I should 
ha\ c been at a loss to deJine it) occasioned in 
my mind not only an uncomfortable impression 
that he knew much more than he chose to divulge 
of the butler's affairs, but tLat he was also, to 
a certain extent, a participator in the practice 
tlmt had lcd to so fearful a result. I could 
hardly explain, e,-en to myself, why I was 
convinced of this; but my impression grew in 
strengt h, the more I saw of, and con\eried with 
him. He did not indeed deny, though he ne\'er 
positively admitted, that he had hetted; but 
many little circumstances that I not only 
ob
en-ed now, but remembered to ha\e noticed 
since his remO\-al to Lady }'etherstone's 
(amongst others, a remarkable shabbiness in 
such articles of his attire as he Lad to purcbase 
himsclf), tended to convince me that he had 
been led to indulge in this dangerous practice, 
and ,,-as greatly straitened in means in con- 
sequence. 
r had much serious talk with him at that 
tilJ1e; speaking with an earnest authority ,,-hich 
I felt our mutual relations not only warranted, 
but called for. But although he listened with 
respectful attention, and an appearance of being 
impressed by ,,-hat I said; and although he once 
\oluntarily promised me ne\-er to bet in future 
(he did not sayagaÙt) ; be was still silent and un- 
communicative, and therefore, to a certain de- 
gree, unsatisfactory. 



Cl.ul"l1 Dlckenø.] 


.ALI.I TIlE YE tIt ROU
D. 


[March :I, IM4.] 


it distinctly, t 01 h if)," I '" t t, if l 
plea9p, sir. \ ou rl mcmlcr my f..thl I (" to 
)Ir. \[oreen." 
.. Certainly. rull well." 
"I \\ i
h to pay it; and I rr L1ke bold to a....k 
you to go with me \\ hcn I p"y It, 
ir." 
Ill' made a sJ p flJrward, aù.d I &vin p an en- 
velr)p" on the tablr, "Thert'," 
'ud 11,., .. r 
eighty-seven pounds, "hieh, with the si\nr a"1d 
coppers you 11m e then", m..l up the S 1m 
owing." 
I \\ as so much 
tnnishcd .IS to be for the 
moment inrapable of reflection. l
'.lt s jon, to 
v. amazement, succecded another fl ling. flit ld 
One fine clear "inter's day, some fourtcen painful fear shot through me. I fixed my eyes 
months nfter the death of 
r. Jacobs, as I was steadily on his. 
standing with my back. to the fire in my consult. " .\rthur! how C'lme you by all this mooey?" 
iog--rooin, Arthur l
entmorc, dre
sed in neat TIc put his hand in Ins pocket and laid bel re 
plain clothes, entered, hat in hand. me a paper containing an e'{act "",.ount of en:Þy 
He had gro\\n vcry much during tlle last 
hilling he had eV'er sa\ed in service, and ho\Y 
h\ r\vemonth ; but he was thinner and paler than he had saved it. 
I had e\'er before seen him. He \Vas literalIy This paper recorded a d.\ily, hourl
 serit 
 of 
I cadaverous. sacrilices throughout the long course of f aur 
II Our first mutual greetings onr, he informed years; begun at the a
(' when ..clf.conqu<,t is 
me that he h'ld come for 1\\ 0 purposes: the the hardest, self-indulgence the most ndtu .11 ; 
I first, to announce th'\t he was about to leave continued with unehan
ing re
olution in Sritf' 
I Lady}'etherstone. of every trial, e,"ery tcmptation; persisted in to 
I started. About to leave Ladv Fetherstone? the very end. 
So good a service? so generous a Wmistrcss? who He spoke only once; as I was approaching 
valued him, as I had reason to know, very the end of his extraordinarv memorandum; but 
highlv! Something of undefined apprehen
ion it \\as simply to explain that )Jr. Gillies, tl e 
shot through my mind. 
choolmaster, had put thi;:) money, at \"ariou
 
But he went on to e'{plain that he had times, into the savmgs-bank. for him, and had 
not felt well for some wcek.s; had bef'n de- thus realised a small increase, "hich, with tbe 
cidedly worse quite lately; and he was eon- fourteen shillings overplus in the account-the 
s,.ious that he required relt-rest, entire and monUI's" ag'es and beer mone
 that would be 
I complete. lIe was sorr), \"ery sorry, to Ic'&ve due to him next month-and a few shillings of 
Lady Fetherstone; she had been most kind to p1"e<,cnts he had accumulated, \\ ould go to main- 
him; but he should be laid up if he rem,\Íned. lain him whilst he should continue out of 
Ill' had told her bow it was; and she had quite senice. lIe might, he obsen"etl, ha\"e paid off 
acquiesccd. lIe was to lea\"e in a month, if her this debt a little sooner, as I could see; but he 
lad
ship could suit herself. lIe required, as it considered that he should do wrong to It:a\''e 
were, to-to talc breath. He drew-not with- himself entirely without money. 
out a visible effort-a long breath as he spoke; I heard him, as he spole, but I scarcrly 
and I mentally resohed that as soon as his time heeded him.' )Iy mind-my heart were tro 
was up, he should come to my housc and submit full. I was thinliug' of the suspicions I had 
to regular professional treatment from me. harboured again
t him-of the "rllng I 11'ld 
]
ut what was the other purpose for "hich done him in my own thoughts; and he, all the 
he had come? \\ hilc, biding hi., til.lC; leadinf? a life of uch 
IIe put his hat down on the floor. cc IOU unrumpled self-denial! 1'0 11i.1 it eel..
d, 
ha\"e hy you, sir," he answered, cc some money ho\\ ( . er, that he had dr 
e nO more th..n \\...5 
of mine." natural to be done in similar circumstances. 
" 
Ioney of yours!" "You know, 
lr. .:lloreen said, sir, that tn re 
"Some sil\"er, sir; only a trine; nine shillings. was no honesty in the blood! no honel!!I i tile 
I brought it, if you remember, when I was a blood! lIe said father was not honest: tha" \\e 
lad; one mornin
 in summer; and you put it was all a bad lot together. Xow, I knew .hat 
in ì our desk, to leep for me." father teal honest. The debt h '\d been his 
remembered perfertly now the secret drawer greatrst distr(,;
s in hi::! last 110ur3. I h"\d 
in \\ hich I had placed it. hs; there was the 
rftfton to know that; for many and ma"1" ft 
sih cr; almost black from age; three half-cro\\ n!!, time he eh:uged me to pay it; Imd so to c '\r 
1\\0 shillings, and a si'{pcncc, \\ ith the thrce- his memory. How, then, could I do other t1. n 
pence "rapped up in a paper by themselvcs. pay it ?" 
As I pushed the httle heap towards him, I said, \ I. 
with a certain anxiety, cc Surely, I11j good ::\Ir. 
Ioreen had risen m'lterially in the wor l J. 
Arthur, you don't need such a 11m as this." II,. h ld illcre .d in both bodily and worluly 5ub- 
Il(' met my 
azc \\ ithout f1inchin
; yet a "I mCe. But thou
h a man, solid in e\ cry Sf 
slight tingo of colour rClse to his cht:t:k. I S4W I of t C \\ord, and \Vllh-well! we WJll 
a
'-I e 


I \'i_ 1I much pressed for time at this period, 
and preorC'upied wit h ftn'{ious ßnd difficult caSt s; 
I but the thou!:;'ht of .\rthur Bentmore w<
s seldom 
II long absent from my nlillll. His pale mi
er"ble 
face fll'tually haunted me. His father had 
! I confided him to mv care, and I trembled for his 
future. I saw liim on the brink of min- 
I perhaps of destrnction-yrt I was powerle!'s to 
1/ avert either. 
rcanwhilc, a change took place 
in his p"lsition and circumstance'!, "hich tended 
I rather to increase than to dilllini!>h my all'{iety 
on his account. lIe obtained the b.te butler's 
j. place. 
II 

 I 


II 



ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


9.t [)farch ;;, l
';.t] 


monl'Y in the funds, :Mr, :Moreen still stuck. to 
the old shop. 
In the doorway of this old shop stood :Mr. 
:Moreeuno\V, as Arthur and I drove up in the 
J11od
st. brougham, "hieh, in those days, I hired 
for my professional visits. He was respectfully 
S;'('lll!:t a great lady out; lJe flourished his rule 
by ,vay of saluting me, and added his usual re- 
spectful bow and smile, but did not speak till 
the coronetI'd carriage with its high stepping- 
bay::; had dashed from the door. "That's the 
co
ntess - that is," he said, as we entered. 
" She comes here most days, and stays-well ! 
I sUPJJose she stays an hour or 1II0re, choosing, 
and changing, and ordering of the carvings 
for the old oak sideboard she's a having put 
together. It'll be a splendid sideboard when 
done. A surprise, too, for his lordship. But, 
dear me, she gives herself a deal of trouble more 
than she need to! She will have this, and she 
won't have that, and she thinks she'd fancy the 
other! It would be better left to me-better 
left to me. But these great ladies, d'.ve see, 
they're-they're wilful (with a strong emphasis 
on the word) ; I suppose they've got nothing else 
to do," 
lIe "inked at me with that clear, honest, 
blue eye of his, and laughed with the low, lazy. 
internal chuckle common to such large men; 
and when I observed that it was not your great 
ladies only that were wilful, he laughed still 
more. "Ha," he said, "all women u'as "ilful, 
not a doubt about it." 
A half-bantering, half - serious conversation 
followed, with mutual friendly inquiries as to 
health, and so forth; then there was a pause, 
and, for the first time, he looked at my com- 
p:mion. But his glance was momentary, and had 
nothing of recognition in it. 
"I see you don't remember this young man," 
I said, "yet 11e is an old acquaintance of yours, 
.Arthur Bentmore." 
" Indeed :" 
He turned and surveyed him with an easy 

ood-natured glance. " Young Bentmore ! in- 
d.eed! He have grown precious tall-a good 
bit taller than mv John, and they're about the 
same age, I thinl
. But he don't look strong. 
I'm afraid you don't have your health, young" 
man! Let me see," Mr. Moreen put his rule 
meditatively to his lips, pursing them up as 
though about to whistle. " Didn't I see some- 
thing in the papers about young' Bentmore, a 
year or a year and a half ago? A inquest, or 
something? Ah! true! I recollect. Butler, 
in your fam'ly (turning to Arthur). True- 
true! Yes, I remember. And you give your 
evidence very proper. Mrs. :M., she read it 
all out loud to us at tea; seeing of your 
name J and what the coroner said and all. But 
I hope," added the upholsterer, suddenly 
changing the expression of his 
ood-humoured 
face to one of stern severity, and laj ing a long, 
square, powerful forefinger upon .Arthur's coat; 
"excuse me, young man, but I hope you don't 
bet yourself! Bettin
 ,rill never comc to no 
good; be sure of that." 


"No! no!" I said, interposing, " Arthur has 
come to-day about a little matter of bm;ine
s 
with you, 1\11". Moreen, if -rou have leisure to 
attend to it." ., 
" "\yith me?" 
Again 
he .upholsterer looked at the young 
man. Tins tune more attentively; and in one 
moment he was a ditferent person himself. It 
had been chat; good-humomed friendly chat., 
beÌ\\Cen us hitherto; now it was business. 
"I suppose it's the old story," he said, laying 
dm, n his rule, and putting his hands in his 
pockets, as if to guard what he might possess 
there. "The old story! "\Vants employment! 
But-" 
lIe shook his head. It was a most e'\:pres- 
sive shake. 
" I am not come to ask for an) thin
," Arthur 
Bentmore said, quietly. "You re,
ember the 
debt my father owed you, Mr. .Moreen?" 
"I-should-think- I-did!" the upholsterer 
answered, very slowly, laying marked emphasis 
on each separate word. "I'm more likely to 
remember that debt than 1 am ever to get a 
farthing of it, by a precious deal! Eighty-seven 
pounds nine shillings and tllreepence. That was 
t he amount. 
Irs. 1\1. and I had more words 
concf'rning of that debt than we ever had 'bout 
anything; I think she's never forgotten it. Nor 
she's never discontinued throwing of it in my 
teeth. She were against my lendin
 of it from 
the first; and that (turning to me), that give 
her a handle, d'ye see, against me. Of course. 
She'd no opinion of John Bentmore. Never had." 
He had become confidential again. He never 
could help it, when he spoke of his wife. And 
he always jerked out his sentences, and made 
long pauses between, when that dreaded inùi- 
vidual was in question. It was like an occasional 
brief letting off of steam lest the enginc should 
burst, 

rthur wai
ed patiently, without attempting 
to mterrupt Inm. 
"Well!" said 
Ir. 
Ioreen at last, jing]ing 
his silver with both hands; "what of that. debt? 
You're not-" he burst into a low laugh of 
exquisite enjoyment. "You're not-come to-to 
pay it ? Are ye, young man ?" 
He turned to me, his blue eyes s\\ imming in 
tears of rapture at the extravagancc of his own 
humour, and laughed till his face grew purple. 
"I ant eome to pay it," Arthur Belltmore I : 
replied, slowly; and, opening the parcel he had 
all along held tightly in one hand, spread out I 
on a buhl table that stood near the fruits of 
four years' self-denial. 
There was a dead silence. 
Not for a twelvemonth-not for a lifetime- 
of fees-would I have lost that scenc. 
1\11'. :Moreen's laugh had stopped. He stooel 
silent; meant.ly staring at the money. 
At last he turned to me. 
"Of course, doctor, !lOle lent him this!" he 
said gravely, and with frequent pauses, as though 
reflecting" ; " but I couldn't think of it. Cert'nv 
not. On no account. I couldn't think of 
ta1.ing such a thiug from you." 


J 



il 


ALL TIlE YEAH l
Or
D. 


Charlell Dicken...] 


" 
;o am, b....; lcnt n.e thL. n nl
:' Arthur 
said j "I have earned it all. Doctor .Peregrine 
1.no\\ s it; Doctor Pen-grine will tell 'au how 
it \\ as earned. Sir, ,\ hen I \\ as a little lad, YOll 
toid me here-in this \cry shop - stamlin!! 
\\here we now stand-that my fathrr-Gùu 
bless him! -was not an honest man. You saiù 
there was no honefty in the blood. Ìou said I 
should turn out bad, liL.e the rest of us ! 1,\3.5 
but. 
oung theu-only thirteen. When 
ou 
saill III t.: ('ruel \\ ords of my dead father, I 
resoh I d th.lt I would nc\"er rest till I had paid 
you, and pro\ ed them false. It has becn hard 
to do; so h.u.d, that it has changed my \\ hole 
nature, 1 often think. Noone lno" s what I 
La\e 
one through-not a living creature but 
ID)sclf! but I would have gone through fifty 
times as milch to pay that debt! I thank God 
that I ba\ e lived to pay it, and to clear my 
father's memory." 
I \\ rite this no\v; I write thc words I heard 
hirn :opt aI.., but 1 can no more 
i\ e a notion of 
their effect than I could if I bad never beard 
thcm. lIe, at all times so subdued, so sf'lf-pos- 
se, Md, so impossible to rouse, "as suddenly 
transformed into another creature. .Form, voice, 
countenance-all changed. His words came 
forth rapidly. The pent-up emotions of those 
four toiling, self-den) ing years, found a \"cnt at 
last. 
" .And now, sir! now!" Arthur cried, raisin
 
his thin Land with a gesture that thrilled through 
my \cry heart; "believe me, who have never 
wilfully uttered one false \\ord from the hour 
when ) au did us that cruel wrong-my father 
was an honest man. I say it in my Maker's 
presence. .Perhaps in his!" 
Arthur stopped short; for he found himself 
suddculy bcized by the powerful grasp of Mr. 
Moreen, and \\ hided, rather than drawn, to the 
window. 
" .Well, but) ou know," said the uJ.lholstcrer, 
dra\\ ing him ncarer, and then holding him 
furth'r off, as you would a picture you \\ere 
examining in ditferent lights; but all the while 
clcnehin
 him in his tremendous hand as in a 
vice. .. You're a grand fellow. you are! lóu 
pay Jour f..lther's dcbts, do ye \> But you're a 
qrand fellow! What? You laid by to pay me, 
aid :-"'? all these years! Why! you are a 
grand fellow! TOll did it. did ye? And I 
said you weren't honest. 'Yell! I wish I'd 
bccn-I \\ish my tongue had been cut out 
before I said it. But you know vou art honest. 
You! a little lad as you was, You pay the old 
man' 
 dcbt. Yes! you have-you have paid it. 
Oh! but ynu'rp a grand fello\,." 
Hilwing the changes on these words-unable 
to e,,"pre_s the feelings that \\ ere bursting his 
Iteal t-uphcaving his broad chest-choking' his 
\oice-the tears rained down the honest man's 
ched ,and he knew it no more than did .Mrs. 

IOJ' n, siLting at work with her girls above 
st air
. 
)[1'. 
[orcpn's emotion had the natural effect 
of (,'llmin
 .Arthur's. 'The poor 1:11 \\a pr i\e 
in hi:! gr.lsp, nut after a time the \\olthy up- 


[
r.J"i'h :;, 1"64.] 


05 


hol tcrer hi LI1 to n lurn a... it \\ r.: to him.,..!t. 
lie relaxcd his hold; and taling out his pocket- 
handkerchief, wiped his eyes al1d face. 
" I a,,-k pardon, sir." be s.1id, turning to me 
and 
peaking' in a low and apologetic tone; "i 
a!ok parùon, I'm sure; but l'I1l-['m-I never 
\\as' so-I nc\'er see such a thing as thi:> before. 
It took me unprepared, you sec. I didn't look 
for such a thing. !\ot at all. And to think- 
to think that thcm words of mine should have 
cut so deep-a poor young lad lile that-that's 
where it is, )ou sce." Then, turning to ArthUJ", 
" You're a grand fellow, sir!" 
Strange-the effcct of that U sir" in )11'. 
Moreen's mouth, as addre scd to Arthur TIe nt- 
more. How \\-cll I understood it: bcttcr than 
he did himself. It was the involuntary. uneon- 
sci?u
 homage paid to the honesty of that 
sh'lphng, by the sturdy tradesman who valued 
honesty above all earthly treasures. 
"But you know I can't tdke it, 
ir!U Mr. 
Moreen suddenly exclaimcd, when he had be- 
come more cool; rccallcd to the consideration 
of the money by tbe sight of it spread out on 
the buhl table. "I can't take them earnin
s 
and savings of that lad's. It can't be. The 
thing ain't in nature. Mrs.:M. hcrself, she 
wouldn't bear of it." 
This was the signal for fre!ob exeitemcnt. A 
leen dispute followed this declaration, during 
which it was difficult to say which sho\\ cd the 
most determined spirit, Mr. Moreen or .Arthur. 
But it was clear to me that the latter mnst ill 
the end prevail. 


VII. I. 
As soon as his month's notice to leave Lady 
F etherstone's sen ice had expired, Arthur Bent- II 
more came to my Louse to be attended profes- 
sionally, and, if need be, nursed. It was high 
time he should do so. He had ta
ked his con- 
stitution too severely. He had grown too fast, 
\\orked too hard, ami slept too little. Now that 
the excitement \\as o\"er which had hitherto 
borne him up undcr every trial, he collapsed. 
There was a reaction. 
".hcn at last I had the happiness of seeing him 
really restored to health, I proposed to him to re- 
main with me as my servant. The plan was pre- 
cisely" hat he \\ i
hed. But after six. months' trial 
of him, 1 made up my mind that I must give him 
noticc, It \\ent against my conscience to leep 
him. As a servant, .Arthur Bentmorc was 
entirely thrown away. lle was intended for 
higher things. He bad a mind capable of 
m..stering almost any subject, and \\ ould ÙO 
honour to any position. E\er since the day of 
that last memorable visit to my consulting-room, 
his re ene with me had entirely dis.'lppcared. 
His confidence had bceu indeed hard to g:un; 
but once gained, it \\....5 gi\Ln wholly, and for 
ever. lie felt towards me now, as to\\ard a 
f.lther. I had entered into, and sympathist:tl 
\\ith, the strongcst feeling of his nature; I had 
rcjoiced for. and in him, on the one c:rt, t 
occasion of his lifc j and 11'0111 that hour b(' ". '3 
bound to me by the st- Æf · of allti"s. 
I had mcntioued his touching stOlY to pt....."'u:\ 



96 


[March 5, 1864.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


who had it in their power materially to befriend 
him; and the result was that 'he obtained 
a situation connected with one of our most 
important railways. He continued three years 
in that situation. In the fourth, he was pro- 
moted to a more responsible post on the same 
railway, From this time his fise was singularly 
rapid. He made money. Being in the way of 
hearing- of good investments, his keen sense and 
excellent judgment enabled him to avail himself 
of them. lIe bought land in the outskirts of a 
great manufacturing town, built good houses on 
it, and sold them at an enormous profit. "With 
this money, he entered into still larger specula- 
tions (invariably judicions and safe), and in a 
short time realised a considerable capital. At 
thirty, Arthur Bentmore was one of the men 
ill that thriving- town whose word carried the 
most weight with it. He remained single tiJI 
he was five-and-thirty, and then brought to pre- 
side over his comfortable home one of the three 
daughters of his own parish clerf!"Y man: a pretty, 
unpretending, affectionate girl, who had been 
brought up in a pious and provident household, 
and was sure to make him a fond and grateful 
wife. At forty-seven, he ,vas mayor of his town, 
a
d. had two sons and three daughters, pro- 
mlsmg and healthy. 
During all these years, lie and I have kept 
up a constant and affectionate intercourse. He 
is now a director of more than one railway, and 
he comes frequently to London, sometimes alone 
-brought there by business-sometimes with 
Ilis wife. On these occasions he always dines 
with his old friend Gillies-whom he has made 
comfortable for life-or with me. And there is 
nothing delights us so much as these quiet 
dinners. 
"It all seems as though it were but yester- 
day," he would say, as we sat together over 
our dessert, and he looked across the table at 
me with those large wonderful eyes of his, that 
seemed gazing far back into the past; "I often 
think I am a page again, and dream it too, 
sometimes. 
Iy wife says I still add up 
shillings and sixpences in my sleep." 
.With 
Ir. :Moreen, grown very old and infirm, 
and retired from business (though he still lives 
in the old shop), Arthur Bentmore has kept up 
not only an acquaintance, but a steady friend- 
ship since those early days, 
Arthur had not long quitted my service, when 
the upholsterer was laid up with an unusually 
severe attack of bronchitis. He was always 
· ,I very hippish when ill, as many such stro
g 
giants are. But his mind, though morbidly sen- 
I! sitive from the state of his bodv, was full of 
1 Arthur Bentmore, towards whom be reproached 
himself with having acted the part of a brute, 
He would talk about him to me as long as my 


visit lasted, and shed tears when he recurred to 
the lad's early abstinence from beer. That point 
touched him more than all. " Yes !" he would 
exclaim, "I don't know as I ever said words I've 
repented of so much since. 1 have repented of I 
'em. Bitter. They'll sound to me, when I'm 
a dying-I know that. And he going on deny- 
ing of himself his little drop 0' beer-a oorm,ing I 
chap like that, that wanted it." Û , 
In the course of this illness, hc confided to 
me, that although :MFS. :M, had been struck I' 
with admiration at the noble conduct of the boy, I 
she yet had not at all agreed with him, as to 
the propriety of refusing the money. She took 
a more business-like view of the transaction. 
The debt was a debt, she considered, and ought 
to be discharged. They had no more right to 
rob their own children of the money, than they 
had to deprive the lad himself of the satisfaction 
to his feelings of paying it. "There wouldn't 
be no merit in what he done, if he was to get 
it back again," said Mrs. M. 
"I don't agree with her there, sir," said 
Ir. 
Moreen, speaking low and confidentially, as 
though to differ from :Mrs. :M. even in the ex- 
pression of an opinion, were too dangerous a 
matter to be overheard; "the merit's the same 
in what he done, anyhow, it seems to me. But 
.Mrs. }'f., she's SQ first-rate here, you see!" 
tapping his own broad forehead, "and she judges 
of things more by the headpiece than she do by 
the feelin's. I'm not equal to her in that-ob, 
no!" 
When he heard that Arthur ,,-as about to set 
up a house of his own, he entered into a little 
plot with me, to furnish the living rooms gratis; 
and never was man more thoroughly happy than 
:Mr. Moreen was during the mysterious consul- 
tations and arrangements necessary to effect this 
object. I persuaded Arthur to visit me in 
London, whilst he "ent down to the manufac- 
turing town in question, to superintend every 
detail. He spared neither trouble nor expense. 
N otlÜng ,,-as, nothing could be, too good for that 
grand fellow! And the ,ray in which he revelled 
in Arthur's astonishment and admiration, when 
OIl his return he discovered ,,-hat had been done, 
was worth going miles to see. 
KEW WORK BY ?tIR. DICKEXS, 
In 
Ionthly Parts, unifonn with the Original Editions of 
.. Pickwick," .. Copperfield," &c. 
On APRIL 30th will be published, P .ART I., price Is., of 
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.rl\nt1. 


P""'
:"'''''Prl at .ha Officc :So_ 21). "'p1 .1:: . 
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Y OF OCR LIn:S n:O
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SA rUIU).AY. MATICII 12, lSn4. 


II 


QUITE ALO
E. 


-.-..- 
ROOl.... TilE FIRST: CIlILDlIOOD. 
CII \PTER IX. I
TltoDUCTORY TO A WILD A:KPtIAL. 
R \TAPLAN was entirely deficient in the Rho- 
dodendron eharnetrristie. It \'fa' a very late 
house. Nobody dreamt of going to bed till one 
or tno o'clock in the morning, save Mademoiselle 
Adèle, who retired at eleven, eomme i1 con- 
I I \ cllait à une jeune personne. The French are 
accustomed to treat their daughters like children 
I till they are t\\cnty )'cJ.rs of a
e. and their sons 
'I lile grown up persons when thcyare ten. The 
p:\terll'\l Rataplan came up from the re
iolls of 
the kitchen toward
 elc'ven. and pla)ed cards or 
smolcd a cigar with one of his guests for a 
couple of hours. People used to treat him to 
iunumerable small gl,lS
cs to hear him bra
 of 
Lis exploits during his campaigns with the Grand 
Army. and his colloquy \\ ith the Emperor at 

Iontereau; although there \\ ere those of a 
malevolent turn of mind \\ ho insinuated that he 
had never been at the ßeresina or at 
[outereau; 
but that happening to keep a small wine-shol) at 
the corner of a street in 11aris durin
 the three 
glorious da)'s of July. 1830, a barricade had been 
erected close to his door, and at a critical 
moment he had rushed out. and er) iug "Vivc la 
Charte!" had stricken do\\ n a corporal of gl"ena.- 
diers with a soup ladle, whereupon he had become 
a dceoré de J uillct. 
It was half-past tweh"c on a. summer night- 
I need not further particularise it, for I hn\"e not 

 ct passed the limits of the four-and-h\ enty 
hours in the course of \\ hieh all the e\'ents 
hit herto narrated have occurred-when '[ollsieur 
Je.m Baptiste Constant, in his master's Spanish 
eh l.l. entered the marble hall of the Hôtcl Rata- 
pI n, and passed into the salle à manger, as one 
\\ ell accustomed to the 10e.llit J . 
Hat.lplan \\ as alone, smoking and sipping his 
"gzogsU (as he was accustomed to call 3 very 
little brandy \\ ith a great deal of sugar aud luke- 
warm water), and endeavouring to spell through 
one of the scven da);)' old Si
cles. 1'he gallant 
warrior-cool's education was defective. His 
womankind kel}t his books and wrote his letters 
for him. 
"How goes it, mon \ ieu'I.? Touehez-Ià!n said 
thc ,aIet. And he extended his palm, and Rata- 
I I 


-- 
-- 


plan smote his own Idm thereupon) and wwt on 
reading. 
" \\ ill you smoke?" asled H.ntaplan, after a 
moment. 
"Buc;iness to aftend toU-the two men pole 
Freneh-" else I would first have presl.ntcd my 
homages to the ladies. Is the countess at 
home ?U 
" HaIf an hour ago. Is lla\'ing her supper 
now." 
" Aml her little temper?" 
"Ouf! u'en parlf'z pa,>. The whole menagerie 
of the Jardin des Plantes docs not eoutain such 
a. \\ ild animal. The bear, 
rartin, \\ hen th nurse 
refused to throw him the second of her babies, 
\\ hen he had pla J cd off the little l}raetieal joke 
of eating the tì1"
t, \\ as never in such a temper. 
Temper! It is a mania! A delirium, an ee
tasy 
of spasmodic and ana.rehieal pas
ions. That 
woman is all the furies rolled into one. plus 
FréJcgonde, Cb temnestra, and 
ladclme Croque- 
mitaine." 
Hataplan had been a great frequenter of the 
TIoule\ard theatres in his )"outh, and piqued him- 
self on his familiarity \\ ith dramatic literature. 
He was gi\"cn. besides quoting' Beranger, to 
spouting long harangues from tragedies. both in 
prose and verse. 
" What is the mattei' 
 ith the countess?" 
u 
Iatter! what d but her diabolic'll. sul- 
phureous, Mount Elm of a temper can be the 
matter \\ ith her P They arc not" onls) but red- 
hot lava streams, th"1t fhw from her lip". You 
arc lIcreulaneum and Pompeii before her, and 
she engulphs you. But, pardieu, she is not the 

[uette de Portiei! She ha" a ton
ue as long as 
an academic diMoursr There is no st 'I ping, 
no satisf) ing. no pa"'if) in!!'. her. She is impla- 
cable in her rages. f'he comes ill here. after 
midnight; and, without the slighte
t salut'\tioD, 
sa) s, ' Papa ltataplan, is m) supper re.ldy?' I 
make her a reverence. I sa). taling off my 
cool's cap-an act of homaqe I would not 
render to Louis Philippe, roi des }'r.mça.is et des 
pélins-' 
Indame told me on going out that 
she would take no supper.' '" hat P' responds 
she. 'Papa Rataplau, )'ou arc a wrnaehe! On 
the instant let me ha\ e oysters of Colehcsterrf", a 
trout fried, all that 
ou have in the wa) of cut- 
lets, a sweet omelette, a Charlotte au't pommes, 
a salade de mâehes, some champagne, Burgundy, I 
Bordeau.'t, nod so for th.' And all this on the 


\OL XI, 



OS [
IJ.rch 12, H"H.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


instant! C 
Iadame,' I bumbly represent, C there 
are no 0) sters fit for the pab.te of a bdy. There 
is no salade de mâcocs. Covcnt Garden goes to 
bcd at eight o'clock precisely, As to the cutlets, 
rou can hm e somc. As to tbe omelette, by all 
means. As to thc Charlotte, it is an impossibility, 
seeing that I have no apples-unless ) ou would 
condescend to potatoes. As for the winc3, )'OU 
bring them with you, paying me a shilling a cork, 
and saying that mine are not fit to drink, so J-ou 
kn'Ow bcst. In effect, I am desolated that I 
call1lot give you to eat as you desire; but if you 
would like a mayonnaise de homard, or some 
pickelle sammone de chez ce bon )Ionsieur Quin 
ill the Aimar1..ette, in ten minutes YOUS serez 
à ,,-otre aise,' " 
ce And "hat does she repl)- ?" 
ce She tells me to go to the five hundred devils, 
She outrages the .Mère Thomas. She affronts 
Antoine. That woman's language smells of the 
stable in which she passes her time. C Oui, 
Rataplan,' she says to me, C je vous considère 
Coffimc Ie dernier des demiers.' And then, 
forsooth, she must insult my sleeping cherub, 
and say that poor little Adèle's pianoforte prac- 
tice distracts her nerves, and that ifI do not put 
a stop to it she must find another hotel. It is 
li1..ely, eh? 'Vhcn I pay Signor Tripanelli half a 
ßuine:t a lesson for her instruction, and know 
that with t\\O years' more practice she will be 
the first pianiste of the world, and cause Thal- 
berg and Chopin to hang themselves in envious 
despair." 
"\Yhy don't you give her her congé ?" 
Rataplan shrugged his shoulders. One does 
not like to lose so exccllent a customer. She is 
'worth ten guineas a week to us whene\-er she 
comes to stay at the Hôtel Rataplan, I should 
not like that Grossou
, at the Hôtel Belgiosso, 
to get hold of hcr. Tl"ipefourbe, of the Hôtel du 
Belvédère dans Ie Soho, has already endea- 
voared to seduce her away from us, _\nd even 
the wild animal has her moments of amiability. 
She gave only last ""eek to Adèle, a brooch- 
malachite, I tllÍnk you call it. I saw a snuff-box 
made of it, which the Cossack Alexander gave to 
the Emperor at Tllsit. Only yesterday, she 
threw Adèle a cashmere, a true cachemire des 
Indcs, in which she had burnt a hole with a red- 
hot poker, in a ragc because milord did not come. 
Adèle will soon darn up that hole. It is a 
cashmere of a ravishing natme !" 
" .Ah! And so milord did not come, and miladi 
was in a rage, Perhaps she cxpected him to 
supper to-night, and his failure \yas the &ecret of 
: I her tcmper." 
" Tiens, I think not, To be sure, she fSent the 
conunissiollnaire this morning to the Albany, 
where milord li\'es, and he \YRS out, and 10 and 
behold, "hen she made her appeaH\llCe this night, 
therc was a note waiting' for her-a little pink 
notc-and having read it. she ordered the supper 
I told )"OU of." 
cc Then milord may be coming." 
":N" ot at all! A little jocker, "ith breeches of 


;1 


;1 
II 
;1 
II 


[Conductc.1 hy 


leatLer and top-boots, was here not fi,"c minutes 
before) our arrival. By word of mouth he deli- 
vcrefl the message that his master \', as very sorry, 
but could not come. Antoine went up and told 
her. Shc fI
w into one of her sulphureous 
ecstasies, and nearly strangled him." 
cc It is now half-past tweh-e. l:s shc gone to 
bed p" 
"To bed! She" on't seek her couch till 
three. She will scold that unhappy Barbette, 
her femme de ehambre, till past two. 1'hen she 
will walk about the room, and smoke like a 
sapper, and swear like a cuirassier, for another I 
hour. To bed! It is lucky for her bed that she 
goes to it so late. She must quarrel wit h the 
bolster, aud lick the counterpane all11ight." 
cc I think you had better announce me." 
cc I warn you that she is exeecdin;ly fero- 
cious to-night, and that gra\ e results may follow 
even my intrusion to announce you." 
cc Have no fear. She may bite, but I don't 
fear her barking. I hm-e been a keeper in the 
Jardin des Plantes, and am not afraid of wild 
animals. Allons, mon bon. Do as I tell rou." 
Rataplan rose "ith anything but a good 
grace, and murmuring something about the in- 
expediency of bearding tigresses in their den. 
He shufiled up stairs. Constant heard him 
timorously tap at a door. Then there \\ as a 
tempest of words auùible-confined, however, to 
a single voice; and after a wIllie the host de- 
scended to the salle à manger again, with some- 
thing positively approaching a faint violet flush I 
on his pale facc. 
ce I told you so," he said. "She is a panther 
of the Island of Java. A beautiful jaguar. 
However, if 
'OU are fond of \\-ild beasts. there 
she is. Go, my friend, and be devoured. And 
he sat down, drew the candle closer to him, 
mixed himself a fresh tumbler of cc gzog," re-illu- 
mined the butt-end of his cigal'-a Frenchman 
never desists until the weed begins to burn the 
tip of his nose, and then he sticks the stump on 
the point of a penkmfe - and so resumed his 
perusal of the Siècle seven da
-s old. 
)Ionsiem Constant went quietly up-stairs, and 
softly laid his hand upon the handle of the door 
of the front dra\\ ing-room. I must keep Mon- 
sicur Constant with his hand upon the handle 
for the space of two chapters, ,,-hile I cross the 
water on an excursion very neces::;ar
. to this 
narrati\ e. 


CHAPTER X. BEGIKS AN ID1LL. 
Ix the department of the Bouches du Rhône, 
and in the neighbourhood of Avignon, there are 
few prettier villages than Marouille-le-Gener, 
in the sous-préfecture of Nougat, 
There are not ten houses of more than one 
sto!')", and not above a hundred cottages; but 
thcy are alllJretty. They are built, lUostlr of 
stone, or of sunbumt bricks \\ hitened over, and 
roofed in "ith those com ex tiles, laid on loose, 
and sccured only by pcgs, such as ) ou see in 
Italian ,"illages. .White as are their fronts, thc
. 


-==--:-1 



Char' II -kenø.] 


..\I.L TIlE YEAR TIOL
D. 


were Inlr-hHd .1 b
 rIu terin
 vine'. _\, iue- 
yard, itself, i:3 not ordirarily invitin3" to the. ;'5 ht . 
In its pictUl'Mque lJect it e
ist 
 only in the 
Ima
inntilln of scrne-pain
 rs, in the en
raving'l 
of defunct laud"c M e annun l and in the fanc) 
performances, in 
il an I wster colour
, sent 
every yenr to e'thibitioll
. }'or real beauty, I 
will In'\tch a Kcntish hop garden, or a T" iclen- 
ham orchard, n
inst the most luxuriant ,"in8)"ard 
in the sunuy south. We say little about the 
south bcing chronics\ly stormy as well as suuny. 
It is only on the b:mks of the Ithinc, where the 
grapes grow in terrnce'5, one nbove the other, to 
the very tops of the hill.., that a wine-bear- 
ing district a!lsumes a romantic look. It is the 
same with olive-trees. Oli,es in their saline 
solution, popularly, but erroneously, supposed 
to be sea--n"ater, are very nice to eat" ith your 
claret, and very nice to talk or sing about 
in ballad poetry; bnt a plantation of olive-trees 
is, ne
t to a field of mangold-wurzel, about the 
u
liest object in nature you can come across, 
Hemp beats it. Flu beats it. Clover demolishes 
it utterly, in an artistic sense. The vines, how- 
ever, that cluster beucath the cottagc roof, and 
the olives that grow in the front garden, are cer- 
tainl) charming; and 
Iarouille-le-Gency had an 
abundance of both. 
The liLtle river Bâ\"e, one of the tributaries of 
the Rhône, ran right across the villa",ooe street, 
and the villagers were great people for clean 
linen. They were even 
h-en to washing them- 
sch'es as "ell as their clothes: a strange thing 
in the south. The ,"ill age 'Tas girt about with 
real oran
e-grOT'es. There was an abundance of 
myrtles. The entrance to the h'\mlet was planted 
with gigantic plants of the cactus tribe. The 
rarest and most beautiful flowers grew nearly all 
the year in the open air, Turtle-doves cooed 
from the tiles. Thickets of the maritime stone 
pine covered the hills behind )Iarouillc, O\"er 
which frowned the grey mediæv:lI Château of 
Ocques, onee a baronial residence, then a for- 
tress, then a barrack, now a penitentiary. 
The U correctionll'lires," or inmates of this 
house of þCnance, did not trouble the inhabitants 
much. They were kept \\ ith commendable strin- 
gency behind the strong stone 
 aIls of the Cnstle 
of Ocque!.l, where they worked for their sins at 
sailcloth weaving, rope-maling, and mat-plaiting. 
Once in si't months or so, one of their number 
escaped; but )IaroUlllc-lc-Gency had a breed of 
strong savage dogs, and, a subst:mtial rewarn 
being offcred for thc capture of fugitives, the 
refugee was soon hunt eel down. The house of 
correction \Vas principally useful to the vilhgers 
as a bu
bC'\r, or Lête noire, to scare their refrac- 
tory children withal, \\ho, when they did not be- 
h'\\"e them
el\"es, "ere threatened "ith being 
sent là-haut, up tl1ere, to the big old C'lstlc. 
The inhabitants wrre mostly small proprietors, 
each cnltimting his own particular patch of 
vinC'yard or oli\"e garden, anel contri, ing to maL.e 
both end, meet, in a scrnmbling kind of manner. 
at the end of the year. The neces5aries of life 


l1ar-h 12, J 1.] 99 


wue cheap. B....ld"..s coal' . but plen.iful. 
'[(,J.t was seldom eatcn, bllt as eldohl asked for. 
13e... ond a few ri \ er trout and böme salt fish in 
Lent, there was no consumption of pi.-,cine deli- 
cacies. Oranges and grapes cost nothin,,; at all. 
The countf) \\ ine cost onl) four sous the litrt" and 
for luxuries the denizens of 
Iarouille-Ie-Genc1 
Ii'ld a profound disregard. 
They dld not occupy themselves much with 
contemporary politics. Theoretically they were 
legitimi
ts, and kept as a fête the :mnÍ\ersary of 
the grand d'lY A.D. 1'.1:), \\ hen 
Ion4;rigneur 
Louis Antoine, }'ils de .France nutl Duke of 
\ngoulêm(', had p2W
d through 
larouille-le- 
Gelley on his wny to nnfurl the white flag at 
!3ordeaux. By the same tolen, their usual mild 
natures had undergone an eclipse of ferocity, and 
they mobbed and nearly murdered Napoleon on 
his way to Elba after his first abdication at Fon- 
hineblcau. 'l'he ex. imperial carri'\ge halted to 
chan
e horses at the village post house ; the 
moody occupant was recognised, hooted, insulted. 
stoned; kni, es were brandi:;hed at the willdO\\ s; 
inflamed faces with fiery e) es glared in upon him; 
and, but for the presence of mind of the ma
 or, 
who was known to be a Bourbonist. and who. 
baring his breast, stood at the coach door point- 
ing to his breast, and cr
in
, "lie is a tyrant, 
but you shall kill me first!" they would have 
dragged the fallen hero from his ,Òicle and 
fiung him under the wheels. It is said tha.t 
Xapoleon shed tears of rage and shame at this 
unmanned) reception, and that as soon as he \\ as 
clear of )Iarouille he changed clothes with one 
of his postilions, and in jack-boots, a rul ""i
t- 
coat, and a hat flaunting \\ith ribbons, clacl.t'd 
his \, hip, and bestrode the leader, in order to 
avoid similar insults at the next stage. It must 
be admitted that, although inveterate 8
'\i1Jst 
him in ad,"ersity, the :Marouillais had ne\ \ r 
fawned upon him in his pl'06perity. They hdd 
invariably detested his rule. The mothers and 
sweethearts of Marouil1e cursed him con'ìi- .('nt Iy 
and cOlltinuallr. The fhwer ûf their youth had 
been taken away from their vine) arùs to 51 ,1 
their blood in his incf''IIsant battlr'3. 
Neverthelr,;s, for) ears after lS:H, they ob
ti- 
natcly refu
ed to believe at )brouille in K- 
pole on's death, holding that he was 
till 
 "ured 
by the English with a. strong ch.,in livu'1 
to the '" all of a dungeon in the island of St. 
Helena; nml as a .. bog)" for naughty chil- 
dren he di\ idetl popularity '" ith the ChMeau 
d'Ocques. Va capo. For tIlC rcst they 
 ere 
'"ery pious, and the most docile of par' 'liouers 
to their curé, belicving implicitly ill rdie the 
genuineness of modern miracles, aud the direct 
inten ention of the saints in curing the di 's 
of cattle, and in a. si
tin
 the cultivation of tl
e 
,inc. Spells, i nc'mt at ions, sec nll5i
ht, and the 
{'\"il eye, were in hi:;h repute among the 
llrouil- 
lais. 
In the ye'lr 1 <;13, Charles the Tenth b4 in
 ling 
of France and Xa,nlTe, there came \,0 li\c at 
)Inrouille-Ie-Gencr, a
 landlord of its solitary 



ALL THE YEAR RODSD_ 


[Conducteù by 


100 ['I:lrch 1
, 1864.] 


au berge and posthouse-a long low tencment, by 
the sign of The Lilies of France-a 
 oung Swiss 
callcd Jcan Baptiste Constant. 
He had been, according to his mm account, in 
domestic scrvice, and had saved somc moncy. 
There was no mystery about him. His appear- 
ance harmonised víÏth the signalement on his 
passport, and his papers were perfectly en règlc. 
Hc had bought the good-will of the Lilies of 
France out of a notar
"s étudc at Avignon, 
'" here it had been deposited for sale by thc cÅe- 
cutors of 
Iadaille the .Widow Barrichon, who had 
been its hostess ever since tbe da)s of the Great 
Revolution. Carrier had once set up a guillotine 
in bel' back yard, and decapitated half a scorc of 
"arestos" there, 'The villagers declared that, 
ever since that hideous day, the water of the well 
in the back )-ard had worn a purple tinge. The 
in-coming tenant of the auberge had paid a hand- 
some priee for it-twenty-five thousand francs, 
so the gossips of the village said-half down and 
half at mortgagc On the security of the premises. 
A man who could command such an amount of 
capital was looked upon as a personage, and the 
villagers determined to be very civil to him. The 
mayor called on him the day after his arri,"al at 
:Marouille. M.lc Curé set him down as one of the 
futurc corporation of the fatrigue. Fortunately 
for his peace of mind at Marouille, hc was, al- 
though a Swiss, a Catholic, hailing from some 
canton on the Italian frontier, 'l'his was fortu- 
natc, because the :Marouillais disliJ...e heretics, 
classing them with gipsies, poachers, and escaped 
correctionnaires. He ,"-as, likewise, a bachelor, 
of about twenty-eight apparently, and, altbough 
somewhat swarthy and down-looking, athletic, 
vivacious, and, on the whole, a vcry personablc 
I fellow. He brought neither kith nor kin "ith 
him to his new abiding-place, and the mothers 
of thc village who had marriageable daughtcrs 
looked upon him favourably from a matrimonial 
l)oillt of view. 
He 'ms a good man of business, and looked 
kecnly after the main chance; but he was no 
I, mggard. He was willing to be treated, but could 
II treat, too, in his turn, upon occasion. He soon 
drove a, ery prosperous trade at the Lilies of 
i I France, and, being postmaster, made a good deal 
lout of the rich English travellers on their way to 
I Nice. lIe engaged as housekeeper, a strong old 
I woman called La Beugleuse. SIie was not band- 
! ' \ some, and far from amiable, and lmd a dcsperate 
potency of harsh lungs, ,,-bence her name; but 
she was very strong, and had a mania for hard 
work. She kept the stablc-boys and postilions 
sober, and up to their duties, and sbe looked after 
the lodgers wbile Constant scryed in the bar or 
waited on the customers in the billiard-room. 
:Moreover, she brought a pair of hands with her 
in addition to her own. These supplementary 
hands belonged to her niece, Valérie, who, inlS25, 
was a slut of a girl not more than fifteen years of 
a
e, She was an o\ergrown loutish kind of a lass, 
and yet, for all her long limbs, seemed dwarfed and 
stuntcd about the head and shoulders. Her skin 


,,-as coarse; her bands ,,-ere tanned with hard 
labour; her voice was harsh and strident, her 
manners werc uncouth and boorish. She had 
magnificent Lrown hair, which hung about her 
head and neck in a tangled mass, and she had big 
blue eyes, at which few people cared to look 
adllliringl)-, seeing that they" erc cnshrined in a 
sunburnt, dirty face. She was an incorrigible 
slattern, and her temper was abominable. Chil- 
dren are rarely beaten in France; it is looked 
upon as a cruel and dastardly thing even to box 
a girl's cars; but no one blamed La Beugleuse 
when she thrashed her refractory niece ",ith a 
knotted rope or a leathern trace, or tied her 
up to one of the mangers in the stable_ It 
scemed llatural that V aurien- V alérie should be 
treated like a stubborn horse or mule, She was 
held up as a warning and exam pic to the insub- 
ordinate juvenilcs of the village. "If you don't 
mind wbat's said to )TOU, and give way to your 
temper, you will come to be flogged and tied uþ 
in a stable, like Valérie à la Beugleusc." Nobody 
cared to inquire wbat her patronymic was, so 
tbey gave her a share of her aunt's nickname. 
Pcrhaps the education she had received Wa':; 
not very conducive to the development of femi- 
nine character, or the cultivation of delicate 
manners. Her mothcr had died in bearing her. 
Her fatber bad run away from his employment 
as a postilion, aftcr drawing a bad number in the 
conscription, and had then sold himself as a 
substitute in the army. It was in 1815, when 
t he Emperor was desperately in need of mcn, and 
pressing questions were not askcd. The sub- 
stitute was three times promoted, tbrough shecr 
desperate valour in the field of battle, to the rank 
of sergeant; and was as many times reduced to 
the ranks for flagrant misconduct. He didn't 
drink, he didn't gamble; he was honest, but in- 
curably insubordinate. Fortunately for t he glory 
of France, and the interests of society, Valérie's 
father got himsclf killed at thc battle of Water- 
100, where he was found by a party of Prussian 
foragers under a heap of slain, riddled with 
lance wounds, and his arms firmly 10c1..ed round 
those of an English dragoon, whom he had 
dragged off his horse, and killed by tearing his 
throat ill sunder with his teeth, 
La Beugleuse took care, after a fasbion, of the 
little orphan Valérie, who in her cradle bawled 
more tban fifty ordinary babies. La Beugleusc 
was miserably poor. She earned her daijy 
bread by working in the fields as a day labourer. 
When Yalérie ,,-as old cnough-tbat is to say, 
when she was seven-she too went into tbe fields, 
to scare the birds away. La Beugleuse 'Sent her 
to the village school, but shc would learn nothing 
there. 'l'hey put her on the fool's cap, or 
bonnet d'ane; they madc her kneel across 

harp rulers, but in vain. Frequently sbe played 
truant, and remained away, among tbe thickets 
on the hill, for da) s togethcr. The curé preached 
against bel' in church, for she declined to be 
catechised, and was the only black sheep among 
the snowy httle flock '\Ihom hc prepared for 



Chnrleø Dlckcnø.] 


ALL TIlE YEAR IlOU
D. 


thcir first communion. \, hen she was ten, she 
might Ilave carned ten SOliS a day by picling' up 
stones in the vine) ards; hut she de..,tro. eù mOl e 
vines than she picked up stonr,. The cure 
advist:d La neug'leusr" to s"llCl her to A vi
non, 
to a com ent. \\ here the good bisters recei, cd 
such undisciplined colts as 8he, and hrole them 
in with minglcd limlnegg and s(\('rity; but 
Vall:I ie coolly :mnouncnd hf'r determination of 
settin'" fire to the convent amI murdcring one of 
the si
ters in con
 cration of the fir
t ni
ht she 
passcd under a mona<;tic roof. She was now 
bd\\ ern thirteen and fourtf'en, and at ahout this 
time Je,m n.lptiste Cou
tant came to )farouille 
nml entered int 0 possession of t he Lilies of France. 
La neugleusc took sen ice \\ ith him, and Valel ie 
accompanied hcr. 'l'he' aurien soon grew familiar 
with the stable, and on most friendly terms 
with the horses and mules, "ould ride them 
bare-backed to water, would litter and rub them 
down, and feed thcm, and, indecd, was in a 
short time quite as useful as an ost ler. Partly 
from eompas:.ion, and partIy from an idea that 
the girl could be overcome by other means than 
violcnec, Jean Baptiste persuaded the house- 
keeper to abandon her fornlerly U11\ aried specific 
or flogging. For a time the girl went on worse, 
and was intolerably riotous and rcbellious; but, 
after a while, she came to show, towards J can Bap- 
tiste at least, a strall
e surly docilit) \\ hich seemed 
to be in some degree due to atfection, and to 
some e'dent to fear. She came at his call, and 
almost at his whistle, like a dog. She obeyed 
all his orders ,\ithout a murmur. A stern word 
or a stern look from Jean Baptiste was sufficient 
to render her meek and submissive whene\ er she 
showed a disposition to defy her aunt. The 
ma)or, )L lc Curé, all the villagers, marvelled at 
the phenomenon. Valérie was wholly ehangcd. 
But a stranger phenomenon was soon to tale 
place. \Yhen the girl came to be sixteen she 
{rrew with astoundin
 rapidity e
ceedingly beau- 
tiful. Like Peau d'âne in the fairy talc, she 
seemed, all at once, to have changed from a 
grubby little ragamuffin, a sordid beg'!Sar's brat, 
into a lovely and elegant princess. A princc
'5 
in rags she might hm'e remained, certainly; but 
Hlat t he landlord of the Lilies of 
'rancc brought 
her b,ICl, after one of his \ Ü,its to A\ignon, cnough 
colton print of u.ouenlllanuf,lct ure for t\\ 0 work- 
a-da) frocks. and a piece of min
led silk and wool 
for a Sunday dress. Yaléric, \\ ho h,ld hithel to 
bcen moclcd at and dcspi5cd, as the lowc5t of 
tile low, "as now emied. She \\ent through 
her long-deferred first communion \\ ith unex. 
ception.lble decorum. She combed out her 
tangled brown hair, rulll arranged it ill sump- 
tuous plaits beneat h a llRtt y little lace cap. She 
"ashed her face, and ber big hlue e) es shone out 
from the elcared surface, like stars. A film 
seemed to ha,'e been removf'd from her \oice, 
c\ en as a ratara6t ig rplnoved h) a slilful 
Qpm"ltor from a di
eased e
f'. The \oice was 
ltar
h and strident no longer, hut full of drep 
riCh tones, and low whi5pers. "\\ hell she was iu 


[ .arc.. 1.?, 1 


101 


a pion no\\, she "..5 suhlil,e, nIt rel.tU1 ;h 
The fing'ular mo\ ments of hu limbs \\ ert" r\..- 
placl'll b) an indl'
crib'\hle supplene and gr. . 
I'he b(
an to dance without e\ er ha\ !Dg learnt. 
Dhe hegan to sing without cv('r ha\il'
 be'n 
t.mght. She" as e\ idently one of th'1se r,l\\ clea- 
tures \\ ho .. piek up" accompli..lullent'\, or are 

iftl'd "ith them naturally. lIer capacity hat! 
flowered late, but the product \\as mar\ellous 
in c'\.ubcranl heauty. 
lIer curious obedience to the behest.. of Je'ln 
Baptiste Constant endured during a transi- 
tory period. \\ hen her bcaut) "as definiti\f'ly 
manifest, the sh:lekle'l, as well as the dirt 
and the coarsene,c., and the clum
ine'ls, fell 
from her limhg. The 
la"e bcc,m1e a hrallt. 
She turncd sharply round on the strong old 
\\om:m who used to flog hcr, and in a mOlllent, 
morally, tr:lmpled her aunt under her hcel. T a 
Beugleuse \\ as dazed and bewildered by this 
radiant serpent, so suddenly emergent from a 
scaly slin. She gave ill at once, anù became 
Yalérie's very bumble and obedient serunt. 
lIer master, Jean napti
te, held out a little 
longer, and once or t\\ ice essa) cd to scold thc 
girl; but she soon determined thc rcIations that 
were in future to exist between them. "There 
is only one person who shall say in thi
 house I 
WILL, and that person is myself." Thus sllC 
aid, 
stamping her foot. The innlceper bit his lips, 
and, looling at her curiously from under his 
drooping e)elids, said" I will" no more-so far 
at least as she "as concerned-at the Lilies of 

'rance. 


A)IATEUR TOUTIXG. 


IT is a grave question "hether the effect of all 
touting' is not rather to set you a
ainst the thiug 
for wliieh ,"our favourable consideration is so- 
licited, tha
 to draw you towards it. When a 
couple of shy prO\ incial maidens plant them- 
selves in front of a bonnet-shop in Clanbourne- 
street, and commence a diseus;:)ion as to the at- 
tainableness or unattainablencsg of this or that 
head-dress, they arc surely much more likely to 
be driven away from the shop than attracted I 
into it by the touter, \\ ho 
uddellly appears I , 
from within the building, and entn,at
 them to I 
enter. It is so a
ain "ith the phot0graphic 
businr<o:s. r.I.'he undecided people \\ ho get in 
front of a frame of photographic portraits in the 
street, \\ alJtin
 to h,ve a good look at them 
befor(' they ùetermine whether this particular 
establishment is to bc p"ltronised t)r lIot-lIo.\ are 
these poor souls tormented by the nomk',cril't 
character" ho touts for the vampire \\ ithiu! If I 
thi
 dreadful individual does not frig'hten away 
these almost-cu:>tomers by flourishin$ the horri.d 
little portraits, at one shillin
 each, uetore thcll' 
ryeg and othen\ ise borin rr and eOllfusin
 Ih 111, 
they'must be made of t0l7 g h matt ri'll indeed.. 
Touting is a mistalr, and n trouLlc'iome nus- 
take. The hotcI and lod
in
-house tout <;, 
 ho 
surround ) ou \\ hCIl ) ou arri\ e at a popular 



1C2 [
fr.rtlll
,lS G4.] ALL TIlE YEAl
 H.Ol".K1J. [Conduc ted by- I ' 
watering-place, al" ays set you against the esta- I thou
h it is almost too much to suppose-is sa- : 
blishments they represent. The fly-men, who arc ti
fied, He is resoh-ed to attend this church him- 
so obliging as to accompany you down the pier self, and takes a pc" to accommodate his family. 
at R \ dc, putting in a remarl c,ery now and On the vcr;\'" first Sunday that the family attends 
then às to the excellency of their ,ehicles and this new place of worship, the })reacher comes 
the ,igour of t1leir borses; the cabman, who out in a new light, ) our friend's wife avows bel' 
keeps along hy the kerb-stone soliciting your belief that he is fin Arian at heart, a universalist, 
attention every moment with the handle of his a sceptic, a Jesuit in disguise, or a Calvinist. 
whip; the young- man who inquires "hether It" ould be wid,ed to let the children listen to 
you will take a bottle of the reno,oating hair- suc.h doctrines; they might receive impressions 
11 wash, or a pot of the Audalusian creanl, when ,dnch they \\ ould nerer be able to shake off. 
, : I you simply "aut your hair cut; all these touts, 'What could you-the original touter for this 
and mallY more of the same class, play the ,'ery disguised Jesuit, Cahinist, sceptic, Arian, uni- 
deuce with the interests of the concern they versalist, or what not-what could you mean 
Clldea\'our to serre. by inducing this orthodox family to attend 
But all this is professional touting. 1Ye have the ministrations of this enemy to true reli- 
now to do ,,"ith amateur touters: persons who, (!"ion? And so, you get into a scrape. Your 
with nothing to gain by it, are continually cram- friend informs you, on the occasion of your next 
ming those whose interests they gratuitously meeting, that he has becn at the expense of 
serre, down the reluctant throats of their hiring a large family-pew in ".hich neither he 
friends. nor any member of his family will ever set foot 
The recommending of clergymen is one of again, and that it is aU attributable to ,our 
the commonest forms of touting. You sit influence. The loss of lucre, ho" ever, he 
con- 
under a certain preacher, and IJave sat nnder tinues, is in such a case onl,y a very small 
llÌm for years, deriving a vast deal of ediflca- matter; he only hopes that no member of his 
tion, But this does not satisfy you. There domestic circle may have already imbibed dan- 
is room in your pew for Somebody Else, and gerous views; his eldest daughter has recently 
j ou are always trying- to get Somebody Else to gÏ\'en utterance to certain sentiments of a 
come and sit there, Occasionally you succeed, dang-erous description on the subject of play- 
but somehow it happens that this Somebody going; and Tommy has on two occasions 
Else is never satisfied, and lea,'es the sacred o,er-eaten himself-and no wonder, for it had 
edifice in a critical, not to say vituperative, in the course of one sermon been remarked bv 
frame of mind. Sometimes Somebody Else the Reverend Mr. Broadhead-whom !IOU had 
begins at once :-""\Y ell, I must say that, spolen so highly of-that good might be, and 
after aU JOU said, and all you had prepared doubt less had been dOlle, by plays, and that the 
me to expect, I am a little bit disappointed," good things of this life were not put in the 
Choking with indignation, you inquire ,yith world to be rejected by the creatures for whose 
enforced calmness, ".Why Somebody Else is benefit they were intended. 
displeased; what was the matter with the And so, you see, you have not only touted 
sermon pH c: Oh, there" as nothing the matter for the Revereml Broadhead in vain, but ,ou 
-far from it-it 'Was all sound enough, but u.m e actually brought discredit upon that reàll y 
then it was so ,ery common-place," excellent man, and you have caused your friend, 
Or, there is another kind of Somebody Else who had previously had considerable confidence 
who will maintain a profound and aggravating in JOur opinion, to regard your principles" ith 
I silence as you walk away from church, until at mistrust and suspicion. So you had better have 
, last you are forced, as it were, to learn the let it alone. 
worst, and break out" ith the moment ous ques- As to the passion for recommending doctors, 
tion: "1Y ell, what did you think of it p" "Oh," it is a psychological phenomenon of the most 
answers your friend, quietly, "I've nothing to say wonderful sort. It really seems us if people 
against thc sernlOll, except that it wasn't Chris- had their own interests and those of their fami- 
tianity." "What! Not Christianity?" "1\0, lies, vcry much less at heart than the mh-anee- 
certainly not. As the discourse of n heathen ment of their medical man, You happen to 
philosopher to his disciples, it would lm"c been mention in the presence of Mrs. Creaking-ate 
eJ\.cellent, but coming from the mouth of an and hcr eldest and inmlided daughter, that 
ordained clergyman, in a Christian church, it "as your wife is not quite the thing, is troubled 
almost shocking," In this case Somebody Else with nervous headache at times, is suffering 
is what is called strictly Evangelical, and so is from neuralgia in the left temple. As you 
, I your favouritc preachèr: only it wonderfully speak, Mrs. and Miss Creaking-ate look at each 
I happens that on this particular occasion, as he other, and exchangc a smile of enlightenment, 
is addressing- people ,,"ho are supposed to be and as soon as you pause in your remarks, they 
already Christians, he does not go back to ex- address each other, not you. "Ob, but this is a 
pound the first principles of their creed to them, case for Dr, :Flook, if ever there ,,"as a case for 
but ventures to touch for a short time on the Dr. Flook!" Or, "My dear Julia, do you hear? 
kind of life which it behoves them, being Chris- Just the very kind of case whicL. Dr. Flook 
II tians already, to lead. excels in treating. 1\ ow, my dear Mr. Spooner, 
Or suppose, on the other hand, that the first 
'ou mu
t promise me that :Mrs. Spooner will see 
I: sermon is a success, and that your friend- Dr. :Flook. He is at this moment attending dear 
1 - 



-, 


CJ ar 
.I 


ALL TIlE YJ:.\It ItalY ..
j). 


Uachcl hO_l1e. and J u'ia II f( \ ill tell vou 
'" bat he lid COJ; her. I assun u, flh I not lake 
the g, nil c dt U1"e. N u' , ) uU '" III srnd for 
Dr. Hool.., VI on't you? or, si y, I !:ihall ee 
r. 
Ðook to y-tlli:l very bfLern n-&Wd I "Ill 
s .d hilll on to you; yrs, tll1.t \\ ill be the hebt 
wav !U 
Ör it may be that you )0111 elf al"(" the 
Duct\.-r's partisan. '\. our friend, )[r. rull'
, 
h.LS, in an e\ il hour for hi.. ..elf, mentioned to 
I I you that his dig_stion is not wbat he could 
\\ isb; that he can't digest the commone
t, 
simplest t hiug"; that the other day he dined 
with old Y !low
ills quitc alone-bit of salmon, 
lobster sauce, nice cool cucumber, hish stew, 
roast porI.. (" ilh 
ome remarl..ably good stuffing-), 
and a duck to ",ind up wiLh-uo, b
-the-by, 
there \\ a
 some dreElsed crab for a finish, W cll ; 
J)ul..ey as ures you tll'Ü he pabsed the most 
dreadful night possible, after parlakiu-\, of this 
simple meal; as to the wine, it couldu't ha\ e 
been that, because hc confined himself eutireh to 
tu 0 kinds, sparkling- Moselle and claret. "'hat 
\\as the meaning of his digestion being disturbed 
after an entertainment so rational and "hole- 
some, Pul..ey begs to lnow? "I'll tell 
 ou 
wlmt's the mealùug of it!" you reply, with pro- 
fundity. "The meanil1g of it, is, your li\er's 
nfl'ectcd. 1', c no morc doubt of it than that I'm 
standing llere. 1\ow, )OU take my advice and 
see Bacon, Bacon is the onlv man now-a-da'\"8 
who can touch thc Ii, cr. it's a well-kuown 
facl; all his brot.her practitioners admit it; and 
directly II. h.ul case of livcr is broug-ht before 
them, tile}I' first remark is: 'I should like to 
meet ßJ.cQuabout this case; B.a.con lno\\ s more 
about the li"er than any man in the profe
siou. 
In fact, he's been mixed up with it, all his life!'" 
In both tbese cases, f.Lilure is the issue of 
all this disinterested touting. MI'. and .Mrs. 
Spooner had got on very ,,'ell under the care of 
tbeir usual attendant, Dr, Pilkiug-ton: while 
Dr. Flook, who is at last really forced UpOll 
them b
 the enthusiastic Mrs. Crcal..ing'ate, 
docs not suit the worthy couple at all. }'look's 
first I'roc('eding frightens them out of their 
wits; his tÌrst \ isit is his last ; and 
Irs. Creal- 
ÏDgate is bO much offenùed thal n cooilles
 is 
gr,\dually eslablished beÍ\\ een the Camilies. the 
temperature of whicb coolnes,> declines and de- 
clines until ,It last it cnds in a permanent hal'd 
frost, thirty-h"f"o deg-rees l'ahrenheit. And be- 
side, aU this, Dr. 1.>ilkington is so hurt at being 
superseded by Hool.., th.lt he decli
es e'fer to 
enter the abode of the Spooners a
lI1. If the 
Spooners had IIot about thi" time 10und out Dr. 
Bacon, fur tll "e' " it i! impos
ible to s..'ìY 
what would ha\ e become of them. 
Alld 
 et, after this p:linf ul experience, here is 
Spooner himself, recommending hi
 friend Puke) 
to cOIlsult Dr. Bacou about his li\lr. Ami 
1\ hat is the consequence r Fj'he next time 
Puley and Spooner meet, the former is in a 
I state of lhe most ,iolent indignntion compatible 
with the feebleness of hi.-s frame. " How could 
vou send that mnn to me. " he asks. . He 
has uearIy killcd mc. 'fhe JI1"n nu" t be a 


[11 


1 u r 
I. 


L, 


horse.do tur, :;urply. I j(' . to, J. 
for a "hole 1\ ec::k, I hen c been 1 

 Í1. a 
condition be ., en life and death, in c . qu e 
of the R\\Íu! ,iu! nee of t1 e dru;;s,..h LIe 
inhuman 
 rf'kh admin; t rt.d to me. L,en 
now, I belicve it \\ill bl mon+) 
 b 1'0J'1 I 
am dble to get up m,. strength ag-a;u." The 
unhappy Pule,. has a transllarent lCYIk ,,1.i"l1 
ahJlo
t depri\es SpOOllt..r of the pO\H r of de. 
(cuding bis n edical fa\ourilc; still h 1 ..1.es 
the attempt. "But, perh t .3' thi6 m,IV be pdrt 
of the right treatment of t case, and you 
ad,ance further-" "Ad,ance fu 
er!" 
cries P.: "you need not trouble yourself about 
that. Hr. Bacon has received his congé, and 
\\ ill ne\ er enter lilY house 
in, I promise 
you." "All, you haven't gi\en him a f.Jr hiJ," 
savs Spooner. And 50 here is another cuc)n s 
established, and all through this pernicious 
touting on the part of pri\ate friends. 
"1\O\v just 'a\e the goodness to 1001 at this, 
will ) ou," bays a certain friend of yours: to 
u.hom, as possessed of immClllie \H,alth, you 
have introduced a young- painter-friend who 
paints portraits. "Did you efcr bee such a 
thing?" continues your moneyed friend, exhibit. 
iug his lil.eness as completed and sent home by 
your protc .é, "I d.ou't set up for beil 
 
hand
ome, but I trill say, that" hen I look 
in my ghss of a morning, it does tell me a 
plcasantcr hile than that. Aud it's vul
ar, too, 
mind vou, that's \\ hat I feel most. ] ('8 \ uJ .1' 
and s{arin
, and brazen, aud not the gelltleL,an. 
The very clothes don't secm to fit--alld I .. i) to 
Poole, miud you, and pay him, too, \\ hich : 
more than every ".est.endcr can say. lie 
migh t ha\ e done the clotbes right, at any rate." 
"hat are you to say to this P The por- 
trait is there before you, an utt "r failure. lour 
young friend the painter is oue of those prac- 
tilioners '1'I"ho ma] bc said to have a fine eye for 
the Ugly. He docs the thing before him, but 
the ugliest version of the thing. L\ery defect 
in the original is sought out and d \, elt U.1<-U 
" it It intense relish. And \ ou lue\\ all tlth,. 
But thcn be'" sueh a good 'fdlow, and d_ n't 
get on partieuI,u"l) 
 ell, and 
 ou uscd to lnow 
his father ;-aU excellent rL ons wh\' your 
friend 
hould be let ill for a bad portruit.
 Ie I'll 
p.ay for it, mind 'fon," say
 C ,is a:. he talt:s 
leave of you, "bùt I'll nenr haug it up, nor 
show it to nnvbodv." 
As the \\o"rthy.Cl\is lans iulparled tlls I
"" 
intention a day or Í\\O beforc. to th man of 

enius himself, this 1 'Jt is not much bL L r 
ple'\
ed 
 it h his sitter than hi sittt..r is with 
bim. " Of course it \'fa \ en lind of ,"ou," f s 
younK Titian, "to rct'v1UÏnend mc
 alld t 
me the job aud that sort of thing, but upon n y 

 ord that friend of ) ours is the most in uft'e 
ahl(' pur e-pfl.ud snob I c, cr had an," trar sac 
tion \\ith in the \\ holc course of illY lie. Le 
ß)f' have a gentlemau to deal 
ilh, aDd I d('u't 
care; but a trdd( )man-a man f1' III th \\. ng 
side of Temple Ihr-they're all J.
..le! TilLY 
woulù lord it O"f"er )licliï 1 Aupe; if LI1 I . d 
thc cuanee." 


I' 



===ïl 
[Conducted by 


10 j. pIo.rch 12, 1864,] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


So hel'e is another instauce of the failure of one against tIle othcr more completely than if 
amateur touting. It is by no means the last you had abused. Arker to Boon
 in the most 
that might be quoted. 'Vhat do YOll do when ferocious manner, and sct Booms before Arkm' 
your friend complains of his corns, and of the as a monstm' in human form, I don't know how 
wonderful ideas entertained by shoemakers as it is; I don't attempt to explain the phenomcnou. 
to the form aud size of the human foot? You but it is an unquestionable fact that we don't.likc 
instantly begin to chuckle, "Aha, my boy, you to hear people whom we don't know, madc a fuss 
should go to my bootmaker, you'd never be about, and that we very soon" cary of heariuO' 
t.roubled with corns any more. Go to my man, Aristides-when he is not numbercd amonO' ou
 
and be at peace." "\Vliat follows? Your frielHl acquaintances-called the just. ,., 
comes limping up to you a week 01' two aftel'. And now let us suppose that J ou do at last 
wards, and informs you that, according to the succeed in bringing about a meeting betwcen 
verdict of an eminent chiropodist, he is likely Arker and Booms. It is only aftcr innumerable 
to be lame for six months in consequence of an false starts that you do succeed in this. :Many 
attempt to wear the shoes supplied by your shoe- times have you got together the very pe.ople 
maker. And your shoemaker thanks you with whom you wanted to assist at the grcat intro- 
the air of a martyr for having sent him a cus- duction scene, but thcn unhappily either A.rker 
tomer, but regrets that the gentleman has not or Booms would not come, and still this meetin"'" 
bellaved very handsome, sending back the shoes which you hare sought nith feverish anxiety, t
 
and declining to pay for them. "A pair of shocs, bring about, has not come oft'. At last, however, 
too," rcmarks the injured tradesman, exhibiting we will suppose you successful. Arker and 
the articles in question, which resemble canoes, Booms are both discngaged and will come. But, 
"a pair of shoes as ain't everybody's money, now your difficulties with regard to the other 
being made according to the gentleman's own guests begin. The people who arc wanh'd to fit 
design, with no shape in them," in with Arker and Booms, the mutual friends, 
But there is another form of amateur touting where are they? They are wanting. Some are 
which must have a passing word of notice bcfore ill; others out of town; and others engaged; 
t.he subject is dismissed. This time, it is yom and you are obliged to get all sorts of waifs 
private friends whom you boast about, and you and strays togethel' and" make up a party," the 
seek to cram them - as you did professional members of which are all strangers to each 
men and tradesmen-down the throats of your other, and, above all, to your two principal guests. 
acquaintance. It is dangerous work. Also, on the day of your dinner-party, the wind 
Did you ever try to bring two people ac- is in thc east. Arker bas been engaged in a 
quainted-being rather proud of each of them- troublesome affair in the City, which is likcly to 
and attain a successful result? Particular at- involve him in loss, and Booms has t.he tooth- 
tention is requested to the wording of this ache. Your difficulties begin, before you leave 
question. It is not asked whether you suc- the drawing-room. Arket' has got it into his 
ceeded in bringing those two persons to know head that he is to ta1.e your wife down to dinner, 
each othel', though that is often a performance and, after olTering his arm, has to be disabused 
with difficulties beset., but whether the result of of his opinion, and to yield the palm to Booms, 
tIle introductory ccremony was ever satisfactory. for WhOUl the honour of conducting the lady of 
I have said that you are rather proud of each the house has bcen reserved. 
of these friends separately. You think highly And now, once scated at tablr, you hope that 
of them morall,y, intellectually, socially. You matters will bcgin to prosper a little. There is 
have spoken of each to the other as a fine fellow, one subject on which you remember-and it is 
one of the cleverest men you know, a man JOU the only one-that your two illustrious friends 
have a sincere regard for, You have said that ho]d strong opinions of a diametrically opposite 
they will just suit each other, that they were nature. That suhject is instantly started by 
made to be acquainted. In speaking of Arker Chipper: a little stop-gap whom you invited to 
to Booms, you have said that Arker is onc of fill a vacant seat. The subject is started, and 
the most amusing fellows you ever knew, that out comes Booms with sentiments of the most 
there is a fuud of dry humour about the man, uproarious kind, couched in the most uncompro- 
that he is excellent company, a capital fellow to mising terms. You are in agonies-you listen 
get at your table, a great talker, and never at a with a feeble watchful smile-you don't hear 
loss. In like manner, when you describe Booms what your next ncighbour is saying to yon, for 
to Arker,_ you are equally eloquent. about the you know that Al"ker cannot keep silcnce 011 this 
good qualities of Booms, which, however, are of particular question of church-rates, aud-to do 
a different sort. You say that Booms is a man him justice-he doesn't. Aftet' this, all goes 
of solid information, a deeply read fellow, a wrong. Booms, your man of infm'mation, your 
walking encyclopædia, "and yet," you adçl, walking encyclopædia, is at fault on the Schles. 
"no nian has a keencr appreciation of a good wig-Holstein business, and Arker, your amusing 
thing than Booms, and then, my dear Arker, you man, yom dry humorist, H so invaluable at a 
and he do really think so very much alike on so dinner-table," has a silent fit upon him, and, after 
many subjects, that 1 am continually reminded contradict.ing Booms flatly about the church. 
of each of you whcn I am with the other." rates, collapses altogether, and won't open his 
I N ow what have you done? In one word, you lips. "When the party is over, your" ife informs 
L
fe :mPI Y set these two excellent m:"Juros
yon that Mrs. Arker and 
lrs. Booms "ere not 



c 


.J 


AI L 'lIlE YJ:AIt I:or
]). 


6UC( ful i.l pIt :n
 e,I('I. otl.er in the dra,.il'"'- 0I0"t {'xc llen i lil'w c f Ill} "ife; (illlpf'r's 
roolll; Imd, ill 
Lort, that it i, .
 flat fdilule. sho I fit mø \\ ith C"ttrJ'>rdinary c')mf It \1 fie 
Or, it IUUY Lt. that 
our effort'! to bring' Arler art' statement "hich 
ou may male "ith I?reat 
and J
(loms tl m ther, arc produe'ti\'e of", f{'')ult 
ecUlity-n.
y, (0 m.lle them is probahl) Cllle of 
still more sturtlin
, This d 11' ohject of ) our the duties" hie'h 
 ou owe to tl1&1t nlar1.lin. In- 
healt, the union of the e good people. is succe - stitution, Society, 
fully brought about They meet at 
our housc. 
they t ale to cach other. They .cxchanC'c call,:!' 
Meetings are arr.UI!!rd, nnd p,u'l )("') Iuude up. In 
"hieh you are, at filst, of cour"e, included. At 
first-but not at lc.lst. 1"or 10 .u)(l behold! a 
da) come& "hen the Arker
 and t hc BoolII
c:) find 
their friembhip is stron
 enough to stand alone', 
and no longer demand 
 our fll
teriJlg' care, and at 
length the meetings and thc junletings cOllie 
of}' without) our being present, and then it be
ins 
to be diluly bome in upon 
ou that the Arlers 
ha\ c cut \ou out with the Hoomses, or that the 
J3oomS'Cs -ha, e cut you out with the Arkers, and 
that you ha\'c only Jour 0\\ n delirious an"ticty 
to make these people acquainted with each other, 
to thanl... for it. 
And what is thc upshot of aU this P Are you 
nct"cr to recommend any body under any circum. 
II stances, ne\er to try to do a good turn to a 
friend "ho \\ants a little pushing, nc\er to bring' 
I any of your n
ighbour:;, \\ ho arc strangers to 
I e.lch other. together? These-cries the reader 
, -arc the principles of a cynic. a curmudgeon, a 
churl. They arc and must be taken, lil...c every- 
I thing else, in moderation. 
I Extravagant pushing and touting, "hich arc 
I ordinarily thoug-ht to indicate fricndly feeling and 
I 
ood nat ure, indicatc sometimes one or two ot her 
thing::. of a le
s nohle natuI'e. Vcr) often there 
is something' of egotism and \ anity at the bottom 
of a)) this violent partizanship. lJ e have taken 
up such and such a doctor, such and such all 
artist, and because fee Lave done so, he lllu
t 
be pushed. though half our friends be pois.oned, 
and the other half handed down to postenty as 
so many scarecrows. So and so, again, is our 
friend, therefore he must be ,,"orshipped. "hat! 
arc \\e not discerning and clever beyond other 
men? If \\e havc talen up these people, sha)) 
not others follow us? Then" e most of us lil..e 
popularity; and the approval and belief, even of 
our shoemul...ers and tailors, and their cOll\'iction 
that we havc a largc circle of afRuent friends, is 
somethiug \\ orth trying for. 
:Kor must \\e forget that our amatcur touting 
often brings harm instead of good on the person 
touted for. '\llcre\Cr our poor friend I)ul..cy 
Jrocs, he denounces Bacon as the most igno- 
rant !ind pretentious of all medical practitioners. 
Uur friend, dissat isficd \\ ith that portrait \\ hich 
he has paid for, but which he cannot hang up- 
is he likely to sing the praiscs of Pigment. or 
\\ ill he n.ot rather \\ am his fricnds again
t him, 
and that III the strongest phraseology? 
l)erhaps the sc.lfe
t rule to be ob
crvcd in rc- 
comml'ndin
. is, to \\ ait ti)) you arc 
led; or, 
at any mtc, to beha\c-as has not been thc c.lse 
in m
y of the supposititious instanccs givcn 
above-with modesty aud temperance. II Dr. 
}look has done me a great deal of good: for so 
much 1 can \ouch; Mr.l)igment has made a 
II 


. I. l 


111 


1.) II 
I 
I 


O
 TIlE PUBLIC bERVICB. 


So E.n,l HU'isell called it in my passport-tra- I I 
\ cHing" on the puhlic service," nothing d .fillite, 
nothing more, I had my instructiou!', of CI ur, , 
but the
' \\ere. a
 they \\iIl remain, pri\c.ltc', I 
had no uniform. hl...e a courier, no shet'I'''lin hag 
of documents, no despatch-box, nothing dl
tiuc- I: 
tive and immediately recognisable, Jill' a Q'Jf tn's 
messenger. On the puLlic !'\enice I \\,IS to 
travel as one of thc public. quietly maling such 
inquiries as had been su/!gested to me, and I , 
qUletly noting do" n t hc replies; but I \\ as in no 
wise to gi\c clue to my business, \VIIS not to 
produce my pa
sport until it was asled for, 
and \\as to enter into no particulars as to the 
public service on "hieh I \\ as accredited. I had 
one consolation-that I afforded subject fOl' an 
cnormous amount of jesting on the part of thosc 
friends who knew that my mission lay ill Ham- 
burg. at that time the head-quarters of the 
C;erman army marching on to 8chles\\ ig-Hol- 
stein. It was a part of the admirable humour 
of those wags to assume a belief in the prLlna- 
ture closing of my e.uthly career, to tal..c long- 
ing lingerin
 f.lrewells of me under the ao:!'tump- 
tion that I should be talen for a spy. and either 

hot on the spot, afier a drum-Lead court-marti.
l. 
or immured for life in a Prus
ian fm tress. 1 
was chri
tclled " )lajor André." I wa
 h('
ged 
to read an account of the captivity !it Y crdu n. 
One "ould gravely affirm that he had heard 
hanging was not really painful; another "ould 
advise me not to submit to the degradation of a 
handkerchief over my e)es, but to glare defiantly 
at the shootin
-party; a third hoped 1 had a 
strong poclct-knife, because .. people ah\ a
 s 
bou
ht 1 hose queer little things that the pri- 
soners carved out of wood." I bore their sallies 
like a hero, and started by the night mail to 
Do\'er .. on the public senice." 
Although the 
outh-Eastern Railway has done 
its best to 
'hirl me to that never-somnolent 
town, and although the 13elgian mail-paclet, 
advantagcd by a splendid night, a fa\ ouring 
breeze. and a placid sea, has cOll\eycd me thence 
to Ostend in \"Cry little more than four hours, 
I Hnd. on disembarking at half-past three A.M,. 
th.\t our haste has been in ,aiu, for the train 
does not start until after seven. and I h.l\e 
ne,lrly four hours to get through. I am not pre- 
pared to say at \\ hat to\\ n in Lurope I should 
prefer spending these four hours on a \\inter's 
ni
ht. hut 1 am prepared to declare that cer- 
tainly O::.tend should not havc my sufftages. 
Had it been summer I could have had SOmc supper 
at One of thc numerous quay-side restaur.lnts. 
and then strolled round the town j or I could 
La\ c walled on the Digue, or examined the 



106 [1Iarch 1 I . f.] 


ALL THE YEAR HOUND. 


Phare, or bathed in t.he sea; hut in J nnuary the 
quay-side restaurants arc shut, and none of the 
other divet'sions are tcmþtinq. Nothing sug- 
gests itself but bed; so, mindful of old recollec- 
tions, I determine to go to the Rôtel d' A He- 
llIagne, and, waving off touters, who, even at 
this ùead hour of the night and season of the 
year, are vociferously to the fore, I stow myself 
into a one-horse omnibus, and mention my in- 
teudell destination. The conductor of this 
omnibus suggests to me a reconsideration of my 
determination. That he should say anything 
against the Hôtel d' .AUemagne, far be it! But 
he knows a better; oue which, if he may use an 
El1glish word, is bien comfortablement,oue which 
is close at hand, and where mademoiselle (the 
other occupant of the omnibus) is about to 
descend. Will I not? No, I won't! the 
Hôtcl d' Allemagne or nothing, and I pity made- 
moiselle, who dcscends at a not very attractive- 
looking porte cochère, as I think of Raymond 
and Agnes, and Mr. .Wilkie Collins's Terribly 
I Strange Bed, and many other unpleasant nights. 
" But arriving at the Rôtel d' Allemagne, we find 
I it fast closed, and all ringing and shouting are 
powerless to wake the inhabitants, so, much 
humiliated and crestfallen, I give in, and allow 
myself to be recollveyed tot he bien comfortable- 
ment. 
It is warm at the bien comfortablement, which 
is a great point on a bitter night; the stove 
is alight, the moderat.or-Iamp shine
 brightly 
on the snowy tablecloth, and mademOIselle, who 
was deposited by the omnibus on its first journey, 
and who turns out to be a "YOU1lg person in 
service," is talking unaspimtcd English to a hig 
man, who came over ill the fore-part of the 
steamer, and who is drinking hot brandy-and- 
water at a great rate. My hoarse friend, who has 
given up the omnibus, here puts in a spectml 
appearance at the door, and beseeches me to 
go to bed, promising to call me in the mol'll- 
ing; so, dazed and tired, to bed I go, and as I 
creep between the coarse sheets, and rebound on 
the spring mattress, and see the foreign furni- 
ture, and smell the foreign smell, and vainly en- 
deayour to cover myself with the foreign bed- 
clothes, I bethink me of the time when I was a 
tall 
lip of a boy, eighteen years ago, and when, 
on my way to a German university, I passed my 
first night ill foreign parts in this same city of 
Ostend. And so, lulled partly by these reflec- 
tions, partly by the monotonous crooning of the 
voices of the 'young person in service, and the 
brandy-drinker in the next room, I fall asleep, 
" 'Sieu! 'sieu! cinq heures et d'mi, m'sieu." 
I That recalled me to mJ senses, and I damped 
I myself with the napkin, and placed as much of 
my nose and chin as it would contain into the 
! pie-dish, and dressed myself, aud arrived in the 
salon just as the brcakfast I had ordered before 
I went to bell, was brought in by the waiter. 
Princes, fools, and Englishmen, travel in the 
first-class carriages, says t he German proverb: 
I know I am not a prince, but 1 am an English- 
man, therefore onc need not enter upon the 
other question, I think, as I tale my first-class 


[Conducted by 


ticket, I am h L\Vcllil
g "on the public service" 
now, so I ride in the first-class; on previous 
occasions I ha,-e ridden in the fomth-cllllss, witll 
fisll\\Omen carrying strong-smellinO" baskets of 
Ostend produce, into the inland 
eO'ioni, and 
bluc-bloused peasants in large-peaked 
aps, with 
aU of whom I have held converse in the .Flemish 
languag'e-which I did not understand, but in 
which I made excellent progress by speakinO' a 
mixture of English and German with a Dutch 
accent. Now I sit in the fir::.t-class. I am 
certain there are no other EnglÜ,llmen iu the 
train, and I suppose there are no prince
, and no 
fools, at such all early hour, for I am solitary and 
silent. On past Jabbeke and Bloemendael, 
jolly little neighbouring- villages; on, through the 
flat well-cultivated Belgian country; on, past 
those dreary old châteaux, with the gabled roofs, 
standing far back, and looking so grim and 
desolate; on, past the white-faced little to\TllS, 
through the high street of which our train tea;'s, 
giving us passing glimpses of close-capped 
children screaming at the wooden bar which 
prevcnts them from lmrling themselves on 
the line; on, until with a whistle and a shriek, 
we . dash into Ghent, and pull up steaming 
besIde the platform. Only one change at the 
Ghent station-no Englishman; no bundle of 
railway rogs, umbrella and sticks, waterproof 
coat, camp-stool, and rcd-faced Murray, shining 
like a star in the midst of them; no bowing com- 
missiollnaire conducting milor to his carriage; 
priests in big shovel-hats, fat-faced Flemish 
maidens; Ghent burghers, looking particularly 
unlike one's idea of Philip van Artavelde; 
porters, idlers, everything as usual, except the 
English travellers. So at 
Ialines, where, as 
usual, we stop for half an hour's refresbment, I 
perceive the lack of English travellers; the 
buvette, where assemble the choice spirits of 
the third and fourth classes, is filled '" it It 
roysterers drinking that mahogany-coloured 
beer with a white woolly froth, whieh is at once 
so nasty and so reminiscent of a pantomime 
beverage; but the first-class restaurant (so red- 
velvety, so gilded and looking - glassed, and 
artificial-flowered, and marble-tabled) has only 
three visitors: a Belgian officer in a grey over- 
coat, hright blue trousers aud gilt spurs: a fat 
German, perpetually wetting the point of the 
pencil wit h which he is making notes: and my- 
self. So, throughout the journey. 
Passing Liège, the sun burst out, and the deep 
red cuttings, and the foaming \\ aterfalls, and 
babbling rivulets, and bright green gro" th of 
what Thomas Hood aptly called the "lovely 
environs" of that grim smoke-begrimed city, 
glowed in his rays, Indeed, the "eather con- 
tinued so bright and genial that when "We ran into 
Cologne, at half-past four, I could scarcely be- 
lieve it was mid-" inter. But when I stood, 
portmanteau in hand, at the railway station, I 
soon realised the fact! In the touring season 
the yard is filled ".ith cabs and om
ibuse
 ; now, 
there are three wretched droschktes, dnverless 
and badly horsed; t hcn, yon hare to fight) our 
way through a shrieking crowd of touters, eager 



Chllrlu ú. keDS.] 


ALL TilE YF AU. ItOUXD. 


[M h 1.1 I &] If)j' 


to he r \OU off to see the Dam, thf"shrine d th<>' nounrt,J that the st r1im o t"ern re 
thr('(' k;n!!"', and the bonr., ( f :--'. r. 'III:. h'l: \ e I \\ ith hea\ y jolts and bumI.5 WL rumble IU , 
till" md vir
in8 ; now, a 5')11 '\r) n ..n, hintil r
 at carriages, h?r men, peasants, all '. ',p -led 
no sirht. to he seen, oft','rs to carry my bag'
 ap h"oether, \\Ith some twenty n '11 m tl e 3 
to an inn. j
ut Ilca." my traps o.t the natiun, armed with long iron.tipped p:les 
o bn lk up 
and ha\Ïn
 t\, 0 hours to p..J5 before the stal t- the 
 >lid, and pl'.sh off the floatmg, ICf" Ste'lIU 
in
 of the train, I \\alk throu!rh the town, and is up, the fat httle funnel throws out .angry 
fillll it inderd ùl.serted. The big Rhine-border- snorts, and we are off j hut after t \\ 0 nllu..J.tes 
in
 hotcls are closed, half the Jèan )'l.uie come upon a solid mass of ice \\hich d,<ìw our 
:Farinas ha\"c shut up their Eau - de - Col,!,mr cuarg-e, and dcfie" too, alilhe pre d... of the 
C\lc- 
shops, while the othcr two hundred and 61h be'l.1"\..rs: so wc have to back and stepr mto 
seem thoroughly unexpectant of custom: thè another channel, through which, by dint of 
"\, l.ch
cl Con;jptoir (m' money changers), whose pushing off the floating icebergs, and after many 
idr'\s as to t he current value of 0. sovereign weary stoppages, we arrive at the other (ide. 
o.re vrry \ Reillatin!r, now havc closed their Then down a long, long chaus
ée. with ne\"er- 
shutt('r
, anti the itinerant photograph- Q ellers ending poplars on either side, boundcd by a 1\ 
hl1' e l1ed. So I sl.ull back to the station, and broad arm of the Elbe, so thorou;;Lly frozcn 
there g-et a portion of a tough hare, and some that we dri\"e bodily over t he ice, "itla no 
red cabbagl', and some kraut and potato salad, other difficulty. than thc uncertain foothold of 
.drink a bottle of Hudesheimer, and throw mJselt the horses; then another ehaussée. stra

ling 
ÏJ1to the train aud preparc for a night's rest. outskirts of a town, wooden brid
es ovu en1ldls, 
I get it, with the exception of three rapid \\ here broad-bottomed boats lay, like the larks 
exits for refreshment r urposes, at :)'Iinden, Han- and le\"erets in the pie immortalised by Tenny- 
m'er, and Lehrte. sleep steadily on until son," embedded and enjcllied," then through a 
half-past seven \.11" when we arri, e at lIar- handsome faubourg, along a broad ro
d s1..irting 
bur
, our terminal station. lIamburg lies on the an enormous sheet of \\ater and bordered by 
other side of the .Elbe, and the passaq-e of the handsome houses, and then pulled short up by 
ri, er is made in summer by a steam-Doat, but 1he door of Streit's Hotel. I I 
now the Elbe i
 frozen, and the crossing is long Y cry good is Streit, \"ery handsome is his hou
. 
and difficult. .As I am getting my portmanteau, and VCI") excellent is his accommodation,althouflh II 
I see a good-lool.ing fresh-coloured boy in a by reason of my beeomin::t tenant of the onty 
huge fur eap standing, on the box of a droschkv disengaged room in the hotel I am mounted 
in the court-yard j he motions to me inquiriugli, up very high, and my chamber has a dreary 
I respond, and next minutc he has rushed up, look-out into a back court-) 3rd or flowedess 
has collared my portmanteau, has pushed me gardcn. Ior Streit is full. At Streit's door I 
into his carriage, and is standing upon the noticed h,o sentinels on guard, aud in Streit.'s 
box, whooshing and holloaing to his two mettle- th st. floor are reposing princes of the land, who 
some little steeds. Besides his fur cap, he wears are thus guarded, and noble officer
, the princes' 
a !!hort sheep
kin jac1.et, \\ ith the collar turned staff. His Royal Highness of Prussia is chcz 
'I up round his face, thick bref'ches, and well- Streit, aud smaller Transparencies are billeted 

reased boots reaching to his knees. He has a about in other mansions of this noblc street, 
II large pair of fur gloves too, and a long whip, and \\ hich is called the J ungfernstieg. .\. very short 
a short cigar, and a great flO\v of animal spirits, acquaintance with Streit {>rot'es to me that his 
which impels him jocosely to lay the whip across .isltors are principally mihtary j lumbering men 
evrrybody he meets: shh.crin p peasants with with clinking spurs, and huge o\crcoats, and 
yol.es carrying red pails, SOlemn doualliers, sweep
 moustaches, brush by me ill the 
pompous post-couriers, sturdy farmers, fat passages; and I am continually tumbling over 
burghers, all with their heads buried in their the regular soldier-sen ant, hc of the short hair, 
coat collars. III fiyc minutes we arrive at the stiff gait. and ears sticking out on toe side 
banks of the Elbe, where \\ e have to \\ ait a of his head, lile t he handles of a jug. I am 
quarter of an hour until the steam-ferry is ready disposed to belie\ e that Streit imagines I, too. 
to receive us. The scene is desolate enouO'h; am militarv, when he hands mc a letter from 
the ice has begun to break up, but as yet lIaS high authõrity "hicb has been "oUting my 
cr given" but lit tie; a bitter nort h-east wind sJ..ins arrÍ\ ai, and 1't hich bears an ellormous seal with 
I thc thin bald dreary landscape, flat and treeless j the impression of the to\\n arms, and has a 
" I all
 the horses attached to the \"3rious carriages strictly official and somewhat military appear- 
"hlver and rattle their harness. The peasants aIlce. Streit, I thinl., recog'Iliscs the style ofthe 
bav
 put 
ff theil' yokes, and 
tamp up and down address, but little \\'ots Streit of the contents of 
be:'lde their red pails, thc dou3.nicrs ScO\\ lover this document, which enjoins me to return to 
their pipes through the windows of the littlc En
land so soon as my necessary rest is accom- 
tull-house, the post-courier slips on the frozen plished. In his happy ignorance, and doubtless I 
road and falls headlon
, coming up again with thinl....ing that he has me his customer for days. 
a comic rxpression of ruffiell dignity and a Streit sut'PO'est3 my beinO' tireù and goin
 to bed. 
mouth full of stranpoc oatho;, and nobody seems But-tl!(

7gh I don't 
ntide this to Streit-I 
happy saye my fur-ca:pped droschly boy, "ho, have only one clay in which to see Hamburg, 
by .dodgmg and. "Iuppin!j, h'\fI edged his so I scom his sU!rgestion, and order brealfast. 
camage into the foremost rank. Then a shout After a splendid b.lth-:5treit has a very good 
II 



ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


108 [:\Iarch 12,186-1.] 


I 
!, 


bath in his house- I descend, find an oasis of 
cups and plates in a desert of tablecloth (laid 
for the table d'hôte breakfast), and start out to 
explore. 
Thc enormous lake in front of me, is thc Alster 
Bassin, and no doubt, in summcr when it is thc 
grand resort of the HamlJUrgers, \vho, making 
up pleasant parties, float over its "aters in 
painted boats, or boozc and smoke in pavilion 
cafés on its banks, it is a delightful place. 
Now, howevcr, it is onc vast sheet of ice, on 
"hich thc thaw is just beginning to take effect, 
for in thc distance is seen a line of men, half a 
dozen paces apart, extending from shore to 
shore, busily engaged in breaking holes in the 
ice to admit the air, and so tend to its more 
speedy dissolution. In the comely gardens 
fringing the lakP, I find nurse-girls and their 
charges, of course attendant soldiers, old gen- 
tlcmen, e\'idf'llÍly bent on "constitutionals," 
priests with bent heads l1UlTying to the 
en'ice 
the bells im'iting to which are now resonant, 
and little children scampering about-not un- 
like a foreign edition of St. J allies's Park, barring 
the ducks. Between the two Alster Bassins, the 
greater and the less, I cross over a barren strip 
of land, where there is a lock and a big windmill, 
brown and skeletony, and reminding one of the 
background of a sketch by Ostade, and on the 
other side I find a high road, and on the high road 
I find two horses, and on the horses I find two 
Austrian officers comÏ1ìg very much to grief, 
partly on account of the slippery state of the 
roads, and p:ll-tly on account of their not having 
yet acquired the rudiments of equitation; for I 
take it that to pull a horse's nose on a level with 
his eye by the aid of a ver.v sharp curb, and then 
to kick him in theflank with sharp-rowelled spurs, 
clutching meanwhile by anything permanent, is 
not the best way to keep a horse on his legs. Then 
across the J ungfernstieg into the shop-streets, 
,,"here there is plate-glass, and gilding, and deco- 
ration, and lavish cxpenditure on every side. To 
eat, seems the great end of the Hamburger's life 
-to eat and so to enjoy, Not only are there large 
hotels, restaurants, conditorei or pastry cooks, 
and fruiterers in every street, but at every dozen 
doors you find a board announcing that in thc 
basement., below the level of the pavement, is 
an oyster-cellar. "Austern und .Frühstuck," 
Oysters and Breakfasts, that is the hospitable an- 
nouncement of the signboard, and there do the 
fast young merchants congregate before they 
arrive at their counting-houses, and plunge so 
deeply into the many-lined, thinly-written, thin 
rustling leaves of letter paper, all relating t.o that 
"fir3t of Exchange." 'l'hese oyster-cellars are 
cool yet snug resorts, suggestive of pleasant and 
soothing alkalinc waters, succulent bivalves, ap- 
petisiug" anchovies and devilled biscuits; for 
your Hamburger has anything but poor brains 
for drinking, and could give your swag-bellied 
Hollander, and the rest of Cassio's friends, a 
long start and catch him easily. Likewise, 
as a new feature, do I notice at the doors of the 
restaurants, venison: not in its prepared and 
floured state-as with us-but in its natural 


II 
I 


I 
'I 


state, s1.in on, horns, hoofs, severcd jugular and 
all. 
High change in IIamb1irg is at one o'clof'k. 
As it is rapidly approachiug that hour, I make 
my way towards the Dörse, and enter the building 
as it is beginning to fill. A handsome edifice this, 
"ith a large spiral hall in the centrc, surrounded 
by a colonnade. Up-stairs, all sorts of little rooms, 
with names Oil the doors, merchants' offices like 
our London pattern at Lloyd's, and a big room, 
empty and locked, which, I am told, is the seat of 
the Cham bel' of COlllmerce. From below comes 
a roar ohoices, and, looking down, I see the Ham- 
burg merchants literally" at it." There they are, 
Hamburgers proper, rotund of bodv, heavy of 
jowl, fishy of eJe, stubbly of hair, busl;y of beard, 
thumb-beringed and hands-begrimed, listening' 
and grunting; young Hambm'g, blotchy, sod- 
den, watery-eyed, strongly reminiscent of "last 
night," stung into business for business' sake, 
and for the sake of making more money for the 
encouragement of Veuve Cliquot, and :Mumm, 
and Hoederer, and Heidzecker, and other com- 
pounders of Siller.v Sec and Pommery Greno; 
old Jewry, gabardincd to the heels in fur, with 
cotton "001 in its ears, screaming, yelling, 
checking off numbers in its interlocutor:s face 
with skinny yellow fingers; young Jewry, with 
an avalanche of black satin round its throat, 
and a big brilliant diamond therein, cool, calm,. 
specious, and a trifle oleaginous; middle-aged 
France, heaving in the waistband which props 
its rotund stomach under its double-chin, with 
scarcely any face to be seen between the 
rim of its fore and aft hat and the points of its 
gummed moustache; here and there, an English- 
man, chimney-pot-hatted, solemn and awfully re- 
spectable; little olive-skinned Greeks, Russians 
in sable, and two Parsees in brown-paper head. 
dresses. But the noise! It floods you, drenches 
you, soaks you through and through. 
"When I leave the Exchange it is past two 
o'clock, which I am glad of; but it is beginning 
to rain, which I am sorry for; Streit's table 
d'hôte does not take place until four, and I 
must fain walk about, dreading the thoughts of 
my dreary bedroom looking on the back yard. 
So I walk about, and look at the church of St. 
Nicholas, which is one of the best Gothic 
triumphs of our own great architect, Mr. 
Gilbert Scott, and I bend my neck very fay 
back indeed endeavouring to see the spire of 
St, Michael's, and I visit the Rathhaus and am 
not impressed thereby, and I inspect the prome- 
nading female beauty, with the same result: for 
the Hamburg females are neither better nor 
worse looking than the majoritý?f their German 
sisters, and have the coarse hml', and the dull 
thick skins, and the coarse hands, and the ele- 
phantine ankles, for which yom Deutsches Mad- 
chen is renowned. Thev seem to find favour, 
though, in the eyes of the'Prussian and Austrian 
officers, who are everywhere, and who ogle 
them ill the true military manner; but the 
maidens do not respond, and only halt in their 
walk to contemplate occasional regiments march- 
ing by, with the invariable accompaniment of 



ALL TIlE \ EAR l
üLND. 


'11 1. '.] l( I 


ChlLr' 111 Ickens.] 


vaO'ahond bovs and men. But the rain now 
c07ncs do\\n w so smartlv that I nn ,,"all. about 
Ilncovered no longcr, ailCl am malin
 my \\ ay to 
Slreit'
, when out of tIw Juug'funsti 3 I turn 
info an arcaùe, fun of such I>hops as in such 
places are gcnerally to bc found, and hert' I 
while a\\ ,LY my time. J e\\ ellers, first; I do not 
care to stare in at jewellcrs' \\ iudo" s ill .Lug- 
land; I seem to my:,clf liLe a bun
r) urchin .it 
n pa
trycook's, 10nO'inO' after I he brts, but 
that rule docs not hold licrc, and so I sf .ire In) 
fill, noticing nIl the curly snakes with ruby cyes 
and turquoise tails, the rings '\nd pins, the hair. 
broochcs (the Germans arc trcm{'ndous at thcsc, 
and there wcre shoals of tho"e \cry gummv 
II "avy hair.willow trees bent O\'er lillie bhck 
tombs, \\ ith the gilt wire adjustment plainly 
visible), the thin htUe Frcnch watches, the fat 
German turnips, the monl res Chinoises (Chinese 
watches, made in Gcne\ a), "ith onc long thin 
hand perpetually turning round, 
nd rendering 
hopeless any attempt to tell the tunc; the ear- 
rings, the enormous gold ske\\ ers, arrows, hoops, 
arcs, shells anù knobs for thc hair, J>>rintsellers: 
the place of honour occupied by the ldte !\Ir. 
Lmu'd's pictures of .. 
earing Henne" ami the 
.. \V cleome Arrival," and Mr, .Brooks's pretty 
sentimentalisms of empty cradles and watching 
"i\es; close hy these, and in excellent keeping, 
a }'rench ai.tist's notion of the English in .Paris: 
English gentleman in a suit of whity - brown 
paper, g-reen plaid cloth tops to his boots, a 
pomted moustachc, and a \ ery fluffy hat (how 
they do catch our peculiaritics in dress, don't 
they ?), sayin
 to n laùy, lovely, but perhaps a 
trifle free: "V oulez accepter Ie creur de moa 1" 
in itself an cxccllent joke j many pictures of 
encounters be1\\ een the Prussians aud the D,mes 
in 18 J:S, in which the lattcr are al\\ ays getting 
the worst of it, and a nol able print, .. See- 
schlacht bei Eekenford" (Sea-fight at Ecken- 
ford), which sea-fight apparently consists of a 
J>allish ship muning aground, and the Germans 
running away. 'l'hcn, a bookseller's; covered all 
O\'cr \\ ith their little copies of .. Die Londoner 
V crt rag " (I he London Treaty of 1852), with 
numerous I!'rench and German bool..s, anù some 
gaudy colourcd English \\orl..s, onc of which, I 
am mclined to think by its title, .. Daddy 
Goriot, or U nrequif eù Affection," cannot be 
cntirely original, but may have some conncx.ion 
\\ ith a Frcneh gentleman, oue lIonoré de .Balzac, 
deceased, '['hen a photographer's; \\ here I am 
refreshed at findiug what I, of coursc, have never 
seen in my 0\\ n laud-carte dc visite portraits of 
the Prince and Princess of \\' ales, also of II err 
\"on Bismark the great Prussian firebrand, also of 
Fraulein Delia and .Fraulein Lucca, great operat ic 
stars, in all kinds of costume; also the portrait of 
a gcntleman, with parti-colourcd chcel.s, a coek's- 
comb head-dress and fantastic dress, ,vith a 
le
cnd underneath, stating it to be thc effigJ of 
.. Herr Price, Clown, Circus Renz." 
A len!;f hened tour of inspection of this arcad<" 
and a cbat with the tobacconist of whom I buy 
some cigars, brings me close to fOil I' o'clock, \\ hen 
Streit rlngs Lis beU for table d'hôte, and I find 


n _ .?If onp of half ,
 dozen c;vil; ns, all thl rf' 
of the gn
 ts b in
 .\u<:tlj'm and Pru . m 
oll}('cr..,. \\ hen thty hnd I am a forei"uer (thl v 
thll.ik 1. am a .Uu _\
) thl.. 
 gcntJ"me!l are \( ry 
pohte, IIIcJUdlllg" me III their cnnVCI ,tIPn, clin
- 
IlIg gl,b :I wilh m , &.c., \\-hile they crnvl up III 
the ei\illllll
 of thcir o\\n country, and t;J1..
 no 
noticr of them, The com er3atlOn turns upún 
t he part pl'L) cd hy l:ngland in this war, and 
I have the satisfaction of hearing my country 
and its ministcrs ,ery roundly ahu:,
d: 
o 
rLI1IHlly, tlJ.1t at length I declare my nativnality 
and receive all sorts of apologies from my friends, 
who deprecate any idea of personality, but who 
still decry our Ellglish policy, and \\ 110 tell me 
that thc unpopuhrity of Engldud throughout 
Germany is terrible, In due coursl. after \\ hich, 
I take my candle and go to bed, having to bc 
up at daybreak, to start once more on the public 
service. 


TIlE 3L\GICIAX'S SERVASr. 
Anot;'-BE:s-ALI was a great mahician, 
A "onder-" orking wizard, ft:ared and dreaded. 
Deep in a lonely lane of Cdiro old 
Your dreary \\ ay unto hi" house you threadeJ. 
Out Ly the Desert gate, a lonely part, 
Hid among gardens and de"erted fountain", 
It 8tood, and from the roof-top you could plainly see 
fhe P)'ramhls rising like sapphire mountains. 
A great Llind house with windows closely matt..d, 
S:1\ e "here the water-bottle was &uspended, 
To catch tbe outer air; how bare it crouched 
In sunless twilight that was ne\.er ended. 
Past a dei!erted mosque and drug b3zaar, 
Where the rich myrrh diffused a my:.tic fragrance, 
And nedr ß tall Lut shattered minaret, 
From "hence a vulture watched some sleepin ó va- 
gran ts. 
The Leper Hospital was near its garden there, 
The lolling gourd:! unheededly grew yellow, 
And date-trees held beyond one's reach the fruit, 
In Lunches that all Ef:,ypt could not fellow. 
And by its plaster wall a beggar sat- 
mind lIadji-dronin
 o'er his Koran ver:>es, 
While his lean dog sat looking in his face, 
Like critic at ß poet \\ ho rehearses. 
Hard by a fountain, bountiful as he 
Who" rote above the t.lp those lines in Persian, 
lIalf-naked urchins pla.red at pilgrimage, 
Ur of the Xile-song5 ga..e the nenest ver"ion. 
And no one but a half-crazed dervish p'l"sed, 
ßU\\ ing to nothing; with a long cane flapping 
lJ' pon hi'l bony shoulders, and a bon I . 
That with a broken flute he btilI kept rappmg. 


There \\ ere no \\ omen peeping from the roof, 
Xo black 4a,.es at the thre"hold brinned or cac\led, 
:\0 sound of lute or hands that beat in time, 
K 0 rose-striped curtolins o'er the court-) ard uckled. 
Only a dreary rotlml of sullen rooms, . 
\11 bare but for a cushion or some mattmg; 
A 1,lmp before a niche. a bowl or two, . 
Aud piles of boo
 in 
Fiac, (.;reeI., and Latw- 



[Conductca by 


ALI
 THE YEAR ROU
D. 


no [
Iarch 12, 1864.] 


II 


Coptic and .Arabic, Armenian too, 
'With here and there a Tlilmud, and a trei\lise 
On thp Caù:lla or the l\'fysterie5l, 
In old Egyptian, "hich to wizard3 51\\" _t is. 
An iyory rod, a skull or two of Pharaohs', 
That answered questions if examined rightly, 
Huge clJe
ts of poisons, stupifying drugs, 
And the brown incense crushed for burning nightly" 


Rut I had quite forgot; there was one room 
Payed and walled in" ith mummies, brown and sable, 
The, ery ceiling mummies; a gilt cotEn case 
Seryed as old Abou-Ali's study table, 
_\nd each one down the long and level line, 
HeM out its stiffened arm, as if in warning, 
And staring stom1 like p." ning sentinel, 
'''" aiting the trumpet of the judgment morning. 
All Egypt's rank and beauty withered up 
'Vas there in audience; in the neighbouring chamber, 
The walls \\ith spheres and stars were blazoned 
thick, 
With silyer moons, ami suns of gold and amber. 
Ami the last room, most terrible of all, 
\Vas roofed with dead men's ere!!; each withered 
jewel 
Some alchemist had charred in search of spells, 
And turned its diamond light to cindered fueL 
The only guardian of this awful home 
'Vas Hassan, foolish son of an old weaver, 
A gaping, prying, idle, thoughtless dolt, 
A fingering, tipsy, lazy, hair-brained thiever. 


jl 


In shuddering curiosity he roamed 
From room to room, eying each mighty folio, 
Pinching the mummies, sniffing at the drugs, 
Eager to see the whole of that great olio. 
Ali 'was in the desert, sifting out 
From scorpions' holes and vultures' nests a powder, 
Of great intensity of poison; all alone 
Was Hassan, who grew hourlJ" lazier, prouder. 
The old Jew's daughter last week ran away, 
The cobbler by the fountain by bedridden, 
The slipper-seUer was tied up at home, 
And for his idling being sorely chidden. 
First from the door, and then the window looked 
That monkey Hassan, dreading most his master; 
Then to the mummy room in mischief swift, 
He
dless of woe, and careless of disaster. 
Out came the special book, a parchment tome, 
Open the special leaf-the lamp was nourished 
'Yith magic oil of mummies' tongues, and lo! 
He seized the rod that Abou-A.li cherished. 
And read the potent words, and bade Aldeboron 
To saye him toil, go fetch the sweet 
ile water, 
Some three full pails, and this in Satan's name, 
And great Taxana's, his dear eldest daughter. 
Then spread a demon laugh among the dead, 
That made his hair rise, as a mummy springing 
Leaped from the room, forced by that wondrous spel1, 
In spite of 
ll the other mummies to him clinging. 
Back with the water-pai!;', and swilling out 
O,-el' the floor in streams the :Kile rl.ood course'!; 
Back with the slopping pail
, "ith all the speed 
And strength of ten untiring, untamed desert horses. 


An inundation all before it.s time- 
Alas! the fool is like a "ild duck swimming, 
.And every moment higñer floats the tide, 
And all the ground floor now is full and brimming 
Swisl), wash, and gurgle, bubble, ripple, rush, 
It rise! to the waist of frightened Hassan. 
Nay, to the chin, in vain he's shouting out, 
" Stay, goblin, stay, you're surely no assassin:" 
The books are gone, all swept off by the flood j 
He splashes, tumbles, swims, and swimming cla- 
mom"s, 
But Jet the laughing goblin at his toil 
Continues, till poor Hassan fainter stammers: 
"Stop, stop; gh-e me the bool.. I'm drowning, man; 
Stop, or you'll kill me, Save me, prophet sainted- 
Save me, )Iohammed "-in his ears and mouth 
The cruel water rushed, and then he fainted. 


* * * * * 
'Vhen he awoke, within the baled out room 
Stood Abou Ali, his wrath lord and master, 
Beating him with a palm-stick, as the cause 
Of all this desolation and disaster. 
"Another time, you blockhead," AU said, 
" Before you read the spell that starts the goùlin, 
Learn that which l:\ys him;" here he fell again 
To thrashing him, with energy redoubling. 
Then stripped him of his turban, gay and yellow. 
.And of his robe and s
sh, without remorse or pity, 
.And by the shoulders took him, and with kicks 
Disl1li",sed him, howling, from the sacred citJr. 


PRO
IOTERS OF C011P ANIES. 


NOT . many months ago, I was doing my best 
to obtam employment in London. " Beggars 
must not be choosers," and 1 was determined 
to accept any appointment I could get, provided 
I thought myself tolerably competent to fulfil 
the duties of the situation, One morning, when 
looking over the 'rimes, the following advertise- 
ment caught my eye: 
"
""JTANTED, for a first-class Joint-Stock 
f" Company, a SECRET ARY.-Apply, by 
letter, stating what salary is expected, and ghring 
references, to A. L., 109, Little Green-street, E.C." 
Within half an hour of my having read this, 
I had written and posted a letter addressed to 
" A. L.," and had told that personage I was in 
want of exactly such an appointment as he de- 
scribed ill his advertisement; that, as regarded 
salary, I must be allowed to learn what duties 
were expected of me before I could slate the 
amount' of payment I shollid require; that, in 
any casP, I thought we should not quarrel about 
terms; lastly, I gave the names of two or three 
gentlemen in London, to whom I could refer as 
regarded my character, capabilities, &c. ; in con- 
clusion, I begged to know the name of the "first- 
class Joint-stock Company" that was in want 
of a secretary? 
To my surprise, I did not get an answer for 
three days, and, "hen it came, the letter gave 
me so little information that I inclined at first 
to have notlùng more to say either to ".A. L." 



Char' II Dicker! ] 


ALL TIlE YEAR nOl'XD. 


[' b l
, 1 


11) 


or bë. gecre
aryship. 'lite rv lL.'Ulles bú hi, larked wt> n Ru".rtil g 
lr. _\tfrf"d L :J's 
".A. L." and bis "Lr:.t-c l Jo;nt Tocl C. m- let' r, 1 ql. i 'UE 1 \ ry much lu thf'f a ')m- 
p'\uy" were still hidd
11 Crom me, the writ r I_anyin\\h: htl \\ .eaJ) tn Otlurùi.ec t r" 
merel
 telling me tbat the c"uJpany in \\"nt I)f a I Jli(. I)r, b lilt ", brokers. Mr ah l' :. ' I r ' 
uecretary was U one of the Hl'y fir:.t in Londou." \US exactly the thin
 which could, rop rly 
 
a..d Jinishiu q his V
l short conu.lUnication by termed U a fir<;t-cla !i Joint- tock Cc IIIpun
." ..d 
o;;killg" \,lu:thcr. in tI,. e .1t of my obtaining that, althol1
b [\\i. hed the scheme e\ery ue- 
the situation. r should "be plepared to la.v ce I mu
t decline ha\illg an)thing mOle ,do 
down the sum of (1\ e hundred pounds 
terling
" with it. 
To thi
, I rcpli'd I at, as f.lr as the money Here I tllvu!;ht the whole .lfT.lir wou] I eu,t, 
"as concernrd, [ had Crit:nds \\ ho u ere ready to and t hat I should hear no more of 
Ir, \.lfred 
adv.mee such a sum 011 my; ccount, provided the Lon
 or his 
as company. To my surpri f'. I 
situation I obt"ill d \\, s of such a kind as to rercired another lctter by return of post from 

ive me an income of not If'sS than three that g-entleman, in \\ hich he be _ ed I \\ ould 
hundred a year in a respectable public com. not, for my own saki, be r
h an thrO\v asiùe 
pany. But th,\t I should take no more steps the chance of becoming secretary of \\ hat 
111 th matter, nOt. \\ ould I answer any more \\ ould no doubt some ddV be one of the \ ery 
l
 te. CI , unle
s I \\as at once furnished with full first public companies in London, if not in the 
pal tieula.rs of the proposed secretaryshi f ' and world; that 1 was quite mistalen re
arding 
'\\ 5 at once made acquainted uith the rea name there being no board of directOis formed for the 
of " \.. L ," and with the means by which he company, because he had some of the very" first 
proposed to obtain the appointment for me. men in the City" ready to join the direction at 
In twcnty.Cour hours after des}>atchiug' my once; but that there were several prelimindry 
lctt.rr, I received a long official-lookmg em elope, expenses to he incurred before the publication 
\\ luch contained a letter signed by U .\. L.," of the \\ hole prospectus could talc place; that 
in what he infornled me was his real name- these gentlemen had gl\en him their names Íll 
I AICred Long-and f11so the printed prospectus confidence. but that so soon as ever he could 
of a ll<'W joint.stocl com pany, of" hich more pre- meet certain necc
sary expenses. the whole 
scntly. 
h-. _\lfl ed Lon" informed me that he affdir" ould be brought out, and that then it 
wa<. the" promoter" of t
is propo
ed company, would be too late to apply for the secret an-ship, 
but that u to bring it out" hc required the suin for there would be so many men of wealdl and 
of fire hundred pound
 for advertl.:oing and other influence seeking the situation, that it ",ould be 
f'Àpcnse5; and that if I or my friends would impossible for him to olTrr it to me. His 0\\ n 
IIlh ance that amount, he would gi\"'e me what capital" as locled up, but if I would aù\pance the 
he called U a '\\ ritten bond" that I should be sum of two hundred pounds at once, he would 
appointed secretary of the company, at a salary t"ke my bond for the balance of three hundred, 
of not fOUl' but five hundred a year. The to be paid the day the company was in full opera- 
printed prospeetus was magnificent. The com- tiOll, The letter was '\\ell written. and there was 
l)any \\ as for the purpose of providin
 IJondon a cool audacity about the fellow asking me to 
\\ ith gas on an entirely ne\\ pl"n, \\ hich would ad\auce this aJUount of coin on a scheme so 
-so the prospectus said-at once and for e\er visionary, that I determined, if possible, to see 
crush all ex.isting gas companies. The capital what kind or manner of man it was who could 
required was three millions sterlin
, in si
ty believe anyone, idiot enough to ray money, 
thousanù shares of fiCty pounds each, one pound \\ ith so very remote a c1iance of ever-or rather 
per share to be paid on application; and the in- \\ ith the certainty of never-secing it again. I 
terest t11e company would pay when at work, could therefore replied to his letter that there was, no 
not by auy possible c01l1bill'1tion of circumstances dúubt, some truth in what he said about not 
be lcss than fifty per cent pel' annum, \\ hile thro\\'ing away the chance of a good situation, 
th re was every chance of it s mCI easing in a few but that before I could take any bteps in the 
ycars to a hundred, and e\en a hundred and affair, I must ha\'e a personal mterview with 
fifty, III the body of the prospectus \\ere hill), 
Ir. Alfred Long; that he had only to 
sf'\"eral ('ertiticates Irom eminent chemists and name the hour and place when he would meet 
other
, all stating that this peculiar gas- I me in the City; and 1 would be surc to keep 
do uot mention its particular name-\\aS two the appointmeut. 
hunJrcd per cent cheaper. and gave a hundred To this proposition I received an answer, 
per cent strouger light. than any gas no\
 in sayin
 that the writer, .Mr, Long, was very un- 
US", and that Its ado y tion by any town could well, but that his friend, ')Ir. Adam, \\ould 
not Cail to prO\ e hi!;h y remunerati\ e to those meet me the following day at noon, at a certain 
who furnished it. To this \\ ere added several ta\ ern in Chf"lp
ide. On receipt of Ù1is note. I 
columns of 1ìgures provjn
-or intending to became more than ever determined to see 
Ir. 
profc-I hat" hereas the g"lS nmv used in London Lon
 him"e1f. I therefore replied that my busi- 
c t so many thousands to pl"llduce, the proposed ness was \\ itb .\Ir. Lonp-, and not \\ ith 1Ir. 
lillli costin
 so much le,s, the rf'sutt must be so .Adam; that if the former" ere un\\ ell, I CQuid I 
I many hundreds of thouc:ands of pounds profit wait a few davs; but that I would cease a!' cor- 
for the company. respoudence òn the subject., unlc s within the 
In short, nothing could be morc mngnificlut Jlext week. or tcn da)
 I saw amI spoke to .\Ir. I 
-<.n paper-than this scheme; but, as I re- A.lfl' d L Dg'. 



i: 112 
" 
I 


ALL THE YJ<
Al{ ROUX]). 


pfarch 12, 18(;4.] 


The letter which reached me bv return of post 
surprised me not a littlc, although I had by this 
time conceived very high notions of l\1r. Alfred 
Long's boldness in financc. Ilis epistle was long, 
and took a very round-about way of coming to the 
point: which was to announce that he had been 
for some six months in WLitecross-street prison 
for debt, but that if I would favour him with 
a call, he had no doubt that matters would 
be explained entirely to my satisfaction. '1'0 
1rIlitecross-strpet prison I nccordingly \\ enL 
On my inquiring for 1\11'. Long, a corpulent 
clerical looking man, agcd about sixty, and with 
the general appearance of an insolvent arch- 
deacon, came forward to grcet me. He did not 
waste time, but plunged at once into business, 
bringing forth å iles upon piles of documents, 
both written an printed, to prOVE that the new 
gas scheme was beyond all doubt "the very 
best thing" that had been brought forward by 
any joint-stock company for many years, and 
that all who took shares would be certain to 
make their fortunes. He told me a long story 
how he had been arrested for "a mere trifle; 
less than fifty pounds, 
ir," and how he hoped, 
with a portion of the two hundred which I was 
to advance, to set llimself free, and, within a 
"eek, to establish the "first-class Joint-stock 
Company," with its three millions of capital. To 
this 1 objected that, under present circumstances, 
I did not see my way clearly towards advancing 
any money, and that berore doing so I must 
consult with friends who would no doubt object 
to my taking any steps in the afl'air until I had 
some knowledge as to the composition of the fu- 
ture board of directors ofthe great gas company. 
This, not very unreasonable, objection Mr. Long 
met by asserting that the board was already 
filled up, and that "some of the leading men in 
the City, sir," were only waiting for him to say 
he was ready, in order to lend their names at 
once to the scheme. I suggested that it might 
be better, perhaps, if some of these "leading 
men in the Cit.y" were, among them, to advance 
the two hundred pounds, and so release :Mr. 
Long from prison, as well as set the proposed 
scheme on its legs. '1'0 capitalists like them, I 
urged, the loss of a couple of hundred pounds 
amongst them would be a mere nothing, whereas 
to a very poor man like me it would be almost 
ruin. But Mr. Long did not see things in that 
light, He said I did not understand these sort 
of affairs, that it would never do for him to ask 
these leading City men for the insigni(icaut sum 
of two hundred pounds, and that I was decidedly 
st
Hlding in my own light by Dot risking so little 
to gain so much, He ended by saying, if I 
could flot lay my hand on the money at once, 
my "accC11tance at three months" would do 
nearly as well, for he could get it discounted 
through a friend of his. But I objected that I 
never wrote my name across stamped paper, and 
upon that we parted. 
Mr. Alfred Long was the first "promoter" 
with whom I became acquainted, and he was 
not the least singular man 1 have met., in his 
notions vs to the way of getting up a "fir:st- 


[ClJUÙUC kd by 


class Joint-sto(;k Company." I don't think 
he \\ as altogether dishonest, aIt hough certainly 
ll
t the sort of person I ',:,ould llallle in my 
wIll as trustec for 1I1y wIdow and children. 
lIe seemed to have talked and written himself 
into a belief of his own ftùsehoods, and to have 
an idea that the rest of the world was as easy to 
decei,'e. I have never seen or heard more of 
}.
r. Alfred Long. We parted good cnough 
frIends, though he warned me that I would repent 
having thrown such a chance away. Howcver, 
I have not yet seen his gas company advertised 
in the Times, although it is not long since I 
thought I rccognised, under diffcrent initials, 
the advertisement that a secretary for a "first- 
class Joint-stock Company" was still wanted. 
"If you really want to get the seerctarvship 
of a public company," said a friend of mille: who 
is a merchant in the City, "I'll introduce you 
to Mr. Hunter: a most respectable man, who is 
a promoter of new schemes. He is sure to 
have something 011 hand that will suit you, and 
I have no doubt that you and he can come 
to terms." My friend was himself far too 
honourable a man to have anything to do with 
those who were otherwise, so I thankfully 
accepted his offer, and was introduced to 
.Mr. Hunter: whose profession, as my intro- 
ducer told me, was that of a "promoter," but 
who was a \"ery different sort of person from 
my acquaintance in \Vhitecross-street. }Ir. 
Hunter had an office of his own. It is true the 
said office-situated in a dismal dillgy court 
somewhere behind Austin Friars-consisted of 
only one room, and that room up three steep 
flights of stairs; nevertheless it u'as an office, 
in which was a clerk-age, J should say, about 
fourteen years-and in both llis clerk and his 
office 1\lr. Hunter seemed to take great pride. 
He could not talk on any subject for five con- 
secutive minutes, without mentioning either 
"my clerk" or (.( my office:" though he ap- 
peared to make lIttle or no use of the one, and 
to confine himself not more than forty minutes, 
during the whole working hours of the day, to 
the other. 
Although Mr. Huntcr was by profession and 
calling a "promoter," I don't think he made 
much by his proposed schemes. One of three 
things seemed always to happen to him: 
either he could not get together directors enough 
to bring out a new company; or else he got too 
many, and could not get rid of some without 
offending them; or, at the eleventh hour some 
other person got hold of his scheme, and brought 
it out, as he used to lament, "over my head, 
sir." Thus, the idea of the "Anglican Gallic 
and German Bank (limited)," had originated 
with this unfortunate gentleman. He it was 
who worked out the plan for months, and just 
as he had got a board of good men together, a 
treacherous friend saw the prospectus of the 
proposed bank, changed its name to the (( Eng- 
lish, :French, and Saxon Banking Corporation 
(limited)," got a board of directors, solicitors, 
bankers, brokcrs, and secretary, together in a 
single forenoon, brought out the affair next day 


II 


:1 
II 



I 
 Cbnrle8 D1ckenL] 
I I 
in the Timl
, Daily 'l'clf'
raph, )[orning P 1St, 
V.lily Nt:\\s, and all the oth('r lI1ornill
 pal ers, 
' I and poc1.cted a thou! lIld pounds ùy \\ .I
 of wh,It 
is called" promotion money." TIIUOJ pour 
lr. 
I I untcr was left" ith his fias('o of a chclIle, and 
th(' dubious gratilicalion of pa) illg for the printed 
prospectus. 
When I first became acqnainted witb 
Ir. 
Hunter, his greatest trouble used to be his 
I I ha" iug, not too little, but too much, money at 
command. He \\.13 the first and only man I 
e' er lne\v who felt annoyed by bcing too 
1 ealthy. lie uscd to complain th.lt the gO\ ern- 
ment of-l rLally forgct whether it "as. Brazil, 
PCl U, or the Ar
ent ine Republic - a. South 
Amcrican statc-had commissioned him to pro- 
cure a loan of eight millions sterling, and that 
aftcr he h,ld ncgotiated the affair and got it all 
ri
ht, they wrote to say they only wantcd five 
million3. "What to do with the other three 
" I millions I am sure I don't know, sir," he used 
to rcpeat three or four times every day. It \HIS 
I in vain I sUf!
estcd that n few thou3ands, or 
e'en a few hundreds, might be carefully em- 
plo
 cd as a loan to himself, for 1 could not help 
seemg that poor )11'. IIuntt'r's means wcre 
often lile the shares of the joint.stock com- 
panies which hc prolTioted--limitcJ. Even in so 
small a mattcr as posta
e-stamps I hdd ofte.n to 
help him, and l coulu not but be cogllls3.nt 
-though I pretended entire ignorance - of 
I sundry sully visitors who from time to time 
called at the office, and askcd whethcr "
Ir. 
'Unter was a goin
 to settle that 'ere small bill, 
or whethcr they"-the speakcrs' employers, I 
presume-" should ha\ e to county court him ?" 
But, with all this, I believe 
lr.llullter to be 
an honest aud honourable man. 
Iy own busi- 
ness with him was confined to procuring him 
the names of four .. 
ood City mcn" as directors 
for the board of a joint-stoel company he u as 
then forming; and my share of the loaves and 
fbhcs was to be, that if it were brought out 1 
'\"as to get the secretar)ship. The company was 
110t brought out, and therefore 1 did not gct the 
secretaryship. In less than a '\\ cek I had the 
names of "fonr good City mcn," who were 
willin
 to join the company as directors, pro- 
vided thc rest of the board was composed of re- 
spectablc men. These )11'. Huntel' had to find, 
I but he ne\ er managed to find them. Somehow 
or other, no sooner did he gct four 
cntlemen 
to consent to come upon his board, than three 
of them diseovercd that the fourth \US "worth 
nothing, a mere man of straw," and so they at 
I once resigned, and joinell some ri\al scheme. 
'I ,!'hesc were the days-not long ago-when every 
morning's paper was certain to bring forth some 
ncw prospectus of a Joint-stock Bank, or a 
:Finance and Credit Association. Poor 
[r. 
lIuntl'r felt th'lt, while the grass uas grow- 
ing all around him, hc, the horse, "as starv- 
ing. HO\vever, he never lost coura
e or hope. 
E\ery morning when I visited his ollice hc had 
some ne\v combination bv which he \\as Cer- 
tain to have .r a first-rate W bo.u.d forlllcli bcfore 
S.Iturday j" but wcek after \Veel pd.::!::.ed oJ aud 
:1 


ALL THE YE.\It ltot;
D. 


[March U, 1 


113 


nothing' came ûf it, and to this d'lY I b Ii ,e I 
he is \\orlin3 h:>rd to brint? out his h me. I 
Ucca&ionall,y, hut ,cry seltrOm, .Mr. Hunter I 
"ould hue ..mall \\indf.1lls in the \\,IY of c.sh 
or, at any rat 1', would reeeive-I don't 1..no\; I 
\\ hence, or frlJlU whom-small sums of moncv. I 
\\ hieh he would paradp ostentat iously. On suël1 
occasions he \\ould ah\ays insi
t upon rcpa)ing 
me any 
noney I had expended for P(,st l
e- 

tamps, lntter beer, luncheons, or such like: of 
all of which he kept a very rigill account, and, 
indced, I oelicve 1 am his debtor to the amount 
of sevenpcllee. I am afraid )Ir. Hunter does 
not prosper. I wi:,h him every success in life, 
but fear his means are not increasing'. How- 
ever, 1 met him a very few days 
o in t.he Cit
, 
\\ hcn he told me he" as on the pomt of bringing 
out a new scheme, so great, and with so large a 
capital, that the bare recital of the project took 
my breath away. The promoter's fees alone 
would amount-so )[1'. Hunter said-to upwards 
of three thousand pounds, and the sole promoter 
of the concern" as :Mr. Hunter. But I have 
not yet seen the prospectus adveLtised in tho 
Time
, and as the information was given me in 
confidcnce, I must not allude to it further. 
The next practitioner in the promoter line 
with whom 1 bceamc acquainted, was a gentle- 
man of quite a different lind from .Mr. Alfred 
Long, and from 
Ir. Hunter too. 
)J r. Hardy-for that was his name-had in 
appearance the combined characteristics of the 
guardsman and the stockbroker. IIis hat, shirt 
collar, scarf, pin, coat, trousers, boots, and um- 
brella, were undcniably and unmista1..ably "T est- 
endi
h; his moustache, whislers, and gloves 
would have pa
sed mustcr in the Household 
Brigade, or at Aldershot. let he had about 
him, habit3 and customs which savoured strongly 
of Capel-court. Thus, when once he was in the 
City, his umbrella \Va.OJ laid aside in his office, his 

loves were taken otr and crushed up together 
in one haml, he did not walk, but rushed from 
place to place, and in the hand which did not 
hold the gloves, there were always thrce or four 
papers: one of whieh was certain to be a crossed 
cheque for a large amount-nothing undcr three 
figures at least. And yet 1\1r. lIardy was not a 
stoelbroler, or a stockjobber, or a solicitor, or 
a merchant, or an accountant; he was simply 
and solely a promoter. His offices consisted of 
t\, 0 light airy convenient rooms, for \\ hieh be 
must holve } >:ud a rent of at least two hundred 
a year. T ley were handsomely furnishcd and 
wcll \\armed. In tbe outer room, "ere two 
elerls-a young man and a boy; iu the inner 
apartment 
lr. nardy was ah\a)s-\\hen not 
engagell in running about the City with. a. 
crossed cheque ill his hand - closet cd \\1th 
some my
tertous personage. The first time I 
sa w )Il'. Hanly \\ as in this wisc. I had \t"ritten 
to him, cnclosmg a. letter of introduction from 
a mutual friend, asking on "h.lt day, and at 
what hour, I might call upon him to sp,.ak o!
 
a maller of business. The aI1S\\"
r was, that II 
I called the nc"(l d3Y but one, rr at two o'el 'k 
precisely," l1r. II,Irdy "ould be glad to s..c mc. 



[f on,luLle,' I y 


ALL THE YEAn HOVXV. 


il 114 


prarch 12, It .4.] 


At fixe minutes before 1 he hour, I was at his 
office, and sent in my card, through the clerk, 
who came back into the outer room, fayin
, 

lr. Hardy was particnlarl.v engnged, but "ould 
see me in five minutes. l' waited nearly half an 
hour, when thc bell summoned the clerk, who 
returned and ushered me into the sanctum of 
the great promoter. The latter g"t'eeted me with, 
" Now, my dear sir, I can only give you ten 
minutes, as I ha\"e three special meetings to 
attend before five o'clock," He made notes of 
what I had to say, at the same time eatin
 his 
luncheon of biscuits and sherrv, of "hich he 
asked me to partake. Before the ten minutes 
were half over, he had appointed another inter- 
Tiew for me, and had politely bowcd me out. 
Almost as soon flS I got into the street, I saw him 
rushing across, his gloves crumpled up in one 
hand, and se\'eral papers (one of which, I believe, 
was a cheque) in the other. 
:Mr. Hardy was a prosperous man, but how 
he ever got through any real business by hurry- 
ing and rushing about the City, was alwa
 s 
matter of wonder to me. And yet, he must have 
found the profession of promoter, lucrative, else 
how could the office-rent, the clerks' salaries, and 
his own dress be paid for P Or, ,,"hence could 
the crossed cheques ha\Te come? He showed me 
from time to time-always in strict confidence 
-two or three of his ditferent schemes; and I 
am bound to say that-unlike the proposed pro- 
spectuses of poor 
Ir. Hunter-sooner or later, 
these invariabl! appeared in the advertisin
 co- 
lunms of the Times, Post, Telegraph, and Daily 
News. These ad\Tertisements alone Hlust have 
cost him a fortune, though, I presume, that 
when a company" came out," the amount he 
had expended was repaid him. On one occasion, 
I was sittiug with him in his inner room, when 
the elder ofitis two clerks asked for a cheque 
for the advertising of the" Columbian Banking 
Corporation:" a new scheme, of which the im- 
mensely long prospectus had appeared for the 
first time in all the morning papers of that day. 
"How much does it come to?" asked 
h'. 
Hardy. "Four, si'{, one, and fifteen, sir," 
answered the clerk. ".Write it out and bring 
it me to sign," said Mr. Hard.y, taking his 
cheque-book out of a dra" er, and tossing it 
O\-er to the clerk. In five minutes the clerk 
came back with a cheque filled in for four hun- 
dred and si
ty-one pounds, fifteen shillings, 
which his master signed, still continuing his 
conrersation with me, and "With far less care 
than I should have bestO\yed on the signing of 
a cheque for fire pounds, I asked :Mr. Hardy 
-for by this time I knew him better-\\ hether 
all that sum ""as for the adrerti
ing of one 
single scheme? He replied that it "as, and fOt" 
one single day, too. That before a company was 
brought out, or rather before the distribution of 
I its shares took place, between two and three thou- 
sand pounds were generall.v e
pended in ach-er- 
: tisements, which simply published the names of 
the directors and the prospectus of the scheme. 

'hat if the proposed company does not "take" 
with the public, or if the shares are not all ap- 
!I 


plied for, and if--in the language of the City- 
"the scheme won't floa
," all tue eÀpcnses that 
have been incurred fall upon the promotH', who 
is, consequently, often a considerable 10ber by 
an affair of the kind, The profession of pro- 1 ' 1 
motel' is, howcver, something like the African 
slare trade, in which those who engage in the bu- 
siness can afford to lose three or four cargoes, pro- 
vided one in every four succeeds in getting safe 
to Ha,"mmah, so great is the profit upon a ship- 
load of negroes th1t arrives safe at its destinn- 
tion. 
1oreO\-er, an experienced promoter tales 
care, as a gcnel'lll rule, not to bring forward a 
joint-stock compan! unless he is pretty sure 
that the shares "ill be talen up, 
As a matter of course, the promoter is some- 
t imcs mistaI..en, and for some unlnown reason or 
other, neither the public nor the Stock Exchange 
will have anything to do with an undertaking 
which promises "Well for those "Who join it; 
while, on the other hand, bubbles and s\\ incUes 
often find favour "ith the multitude, and are 
quoted at a premium, even before the shares 
are allotted, :Much, lJO\rever, depends upon 
the names of the directors who form the 
board. If these are "good City men," men 
known to be wealthy, or belongillg' to "ealthy 
firms-or if e,-en three or four of them be so re- 
puted-almost any scheme will "float" well: 
\\" hich means, that its shares will be readily applied 
for, and quiclly bought up, by the public. It 
is not, however, those companies "bich come 
out at the highest premiums that may he 
considered as the best or safest investments 
for money. On the contrary, some of those 
which, for a timp, command little or no pre- 
mium, ha,-e often the best boards of direction, 
and are the safest in the lon
 run. Between 
the period when a new joint-stock company is 
first ad\-ertised, and the day when no more 
applications for shares are received, the pro- 
moters of the scheme often do their best to 
run up the scrip by fictitious buying and 
sellinrr-" rirmiliO' the illnrket" as it is caUed 
-of the fut
re 0 shares, by 
eans of two or 
three stockbrokers, who act upon orJers, and 
create a demand for the new stock. Thus, if 
the "Columbian Banking Corporation" pro- 
spectus appeared in the adrertising columns of 
the Times for the first time on Monday morning', 
it is -,;ery likely that the shares ,,"ould be quoted 
in the City nrticles of the e\ euing papers as 
being at two-three-qnarters to two-seven-eighths 
premium, In other" ords, anyone" Ito had any 
shares of the said" Columbian Dank" allotted to 
him, might sell them-or rather might sell e,"en 
the promise of them-at a premiwll of two 
pounds fifteen shilling
 to two pounds seventee
 
shillings and sixpence each. Now, as the de- 
posit that has to be paid upon each share be- 
fore application, is only one pound, the outside 
public reason with themselves that the specula- 
tion cannot be a bad one; for it is hardly possible 
-so they think-to lose the one pound d
po
it, 
whereas they haye a good chance of wllllllng 
nearly 
hree pounds OIl each. share. The the
:)l'Y 
of thlS tS good, but the pracUce often othennse. 


II 
I 


" 
II 



Ch..u _KCn J 


[. 11_ J I.] 115 


AI.!. TITE YF Alt r.Ol"XD. 


The s"her.le molY be an f'
cenent one, the 
direct' .5 m..lY b all '
ond City nlf'n, find yr 
the c.harcholdcrs ma'\' ta1.e fr _nt, and them h49 
ruin their 0" n prl. - peets. J't r," n tlu y no 
10nO'f'r see the scheme in "hich t l . v lr ,\'e t.ikln 
sl13
cs, qn(Jt
d at a prMlIÏum-n pr
.nium 1\ hich 
their own common s
r should tell thf'm must 
be, more or kss, a r" m-they at once niC.I.1 to 

eH their sharM, and thus thcn.sch es del l"('clftte 
thrir own propert)'. If the public "ould 
exrrr:<;4 juchrment b 're the) buy shares, aud 
patience aft'r tLir purc1m.. 
 (lrc made, they 
would do much better th'lU hy tal...ing alarm at 
the fir'it depreciation that happrn
 to the stael... 
in "h. h the'\' hnn im'ested, S" doin
, they 
help, as it wëre, to hurn down their o",n pro. 
perty, and in clI'ccting thrir o"n ruin. 


C.\rTAI:X BLUE
05E. 


If GRE \T ne" s, glorious news! Yictory! The 
D1nls arc faHin!!" bel...! } len!:.bur!!" ha:, been 
tflk
n. Flell
burg has hoisted the German co- 
lours. Hoch liebe Deut
ehland!" ba\\ led a 
hundred voices at once, and the bens in the 
church towcr rang out, thrir merl iest peal, "hile 
the little village "as dreI..ed ,..ith rihand!:. and 
boughs and flowers, !is gaily flS for a fnir. 'l'here 
1\"ere crowds in the strag
ll1lg 
treet; and, from 
the opcn "indo"s of mo
t of the houses, hung 
out the gaud'\' German flag, the tricolor of the 
Futherland. 'Young and old 1\"ore cockades 
nnd rosettes of the national colours, and had 
jo
 ous faces and busy tongues. }'or the '\"illnge 
of Steerup, on the direct road from the stron
 
fortre
J of Flensbur
 to thc little harbour of 
Kapppl, is n ,illage in which the Germans out. 
numbcr the Danes in a proportion of at least 
three to one. 
"
hy "Kip and ]\oc1.. throttle the noisyswiue!"' 
growled the old man "ho walled by m
 side, 
find "ho, like myself, fc,und his progress 80 
much impeded by the ge
ticulatiug groups in 
front of e\ cry beer-house and tm ern, that his 
usual swinging stride" as reduced to a slow step, 
II LI t us tunl up this Inne to the left, Mr. 
lIarQ, nnd 
et clcflr of the traitorous crew. 
This is no pl'\ce for a Dane, If I had but a 
couplr of guns clmrg('d 1\"ith grnpe-" 
" HaIloa, Cnptain Bluenose>! you seem out of 
sorts' Learn to change "ith the times, old 
1';ailor; cast 
our Dani
h skin, as the snnl...es 
do in summer, and come fort h in spru('er guise 
ns a true patriot nnd a Schles" iger. lIere is a 
pot of the best beer Uostork c\ er bre\\ cd, in 
whid, to drinl... the freedom of Schlcs" ig-Hol- 
stcin," broke in a I1nlf-ti \ )..
' German, advan('ing 
townrd. my 
uid(', and lOlding- out a tmÙ,ard 
inyitingly, \\ nile his companion:> <;et up a jeer- 
ing laugh; for they I...ncw the old "
lippcr's" 
Dani
h 'ientiments too "-ell to doubt the recep- 
tion whicli such a proffer wouM meet with from 
}Iim, Indeed, a sel.me!!f med more than pro- 
hblc, \\ hen ft 
udden shout of" IIf"re tht v 
are: h"'r(' tl'ry come!" nnd a rush on the Phl:t 
rf th... tbrong to 50me safe plnce-such as the 


po t -ay of y,rrl or th m4 utI s of lanes and 
fllle' ,,-cut e1lort tli,. tt- d qUAI.. 1, anll III, 
curÍo :t)' kef t me in tI.e v.U 8'reet, whit the 
old man, mutt( rin!.!" cur!:.PJ5 on the mut:n "TS, 
rem"ined at my sidc. ,\ p beald the n.:! of 
drums Rmt the hea\. tramp of marcl iDfl men, 
and strained our ey. s to\\..lrds the be
burg 
road, when('e a cloud of dust be
an s] '" Iy 
to "hirl along before the ligbt summer brct.Ze, 
\\ hat we were about to see was 110 doubtful 
spectacle. 'fhe IJ'\nish troops, beatrn bark at 
,11 points by the "cight of roperior numb I'!I, 
were rctre9.1in
 to,,-ards the lslandf J and a 
column of infm.try "as to pass through Stccrup j 
t he artillery, cn\ aIry, and bBf!'
ag(', "ith the 
bull... of the army, being sent along the broader 
causewa'\' that tra\ uses Hollcbul. The l}ru..si illS 
and the -insurrectionnry arm'\" of Schles\\ig.Hol- 
steiners llll.d already occupiea the principal towns 
of t be ducb, ,and the hlc of A.l:,en was spolen of 
as the l)robàble refuge of the ot'ermatcbed D3Iles. 
On they came, mnrcbin; reg-ularly eno
h, 
and prcs
r\"ing a martial aspect; but, for alltLat. 
the sight was a melancholy one. There "a!) a 
gloomy exprcssion on the faccs of tbe b
aten 
soldiers, but it nried much. Some looled sul- 
lenly dowRwards, ftS if ullwillin
 to c&itch the 
f'\"e of flnt' sperhtor of their aisaster, others 

iared defi
llltly at the uns'\'mpathi!)ing faers of 
the b'ÇStflndtr
, and a f,,'; presened a bri:rht 
bold look, as of men" ho had donc their be t, 
and who bad onl'\' succumbcd to odds tLat no 
courage could copè with. Many" ere wounded, 
having a bloody handlerehicl tied around their I' 
broW'S, or wcarin!!" an arm in a slinpo, and some 
were footsore, or lamed b'\' 81:
ht 
un-shot 
hurts, and had to limp painfu11y to leep up with I I I 
the rcst. 'fhe dru ms bcat, and the colours , 
fluttcred; but there was a funereal sadne
6 
about the pa
ant; and, by the darl lools of 
the Danes, I could see th..11 they knew they" ue 
pas:,illg' through a crowd of ill-wishers. I I 
Still, if no cheer, no friendly word, 
reeted 
the retiring troops, it is equally certain tilRt no 
nctual insult was offered to them. :K ot a 
villager spoke nbove breath. Indeed, themcu lept 
back, though the women pressed fon an! as if to 
Bhow the breast -ll1ots and tlutterin
 b
reamel'5 of 
the German colour5, and the Sebl(',,\\ ig-Hoistein 
rosettes, th'lt the) wore. 'fhe bells in the church 
towcr had ceased tltf"ir dallgoUrj but, of course, 
the flags still flauuted from roof, aud spire, and 
casement, aud where.er the Danes cast their eyes 
they were nlf't b
 signs of mute h():)tility. The 
discipline of th" tn,,) '0;, .md the temprr of th it 
chiefs, "ere su
h as surprised me. Wit hout a 
threat, or a menacing gesture, they pushed 
steadilv on; thour:-h once 1 saw a tall oilicer, 
"bosc -arm \\aJ ili a sling and bandaged, look 
up at the ,raudy banner, red, blael, and p
ld, 
that flapped on the church tow('r, and c.nt"'! 
bis drawn sword the tighter with bis uninjur'd 
hand, as he bent bis hcad and strode on. And, 
"h('n t hc Dani..h rrar-guard was passing the last 
hou4l('" of Sl. erup, the bells struck ul
 the jov- 
pe'illl!!ain, while the people raised an m:,tÙlL11
 
6hout of: 


" 



116 [:Ilarch 12, 1864.] 


[Conducteù by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


"Run, Danes, or Prussians will catch you! 
Schleswig-Holstein gläube!" And, at that 
taunt, a dozen soldiers faced-about, and ordered 
arms, as if to fire; but an officer hurried back; 
t he muskets were shouldcred again, anù the 
faint sound of the Danish drum soon died away 
in the distance. 
"Let us go home," said Captain Bluenose, 
with an cxtra hoarseness in his deep strong 
voice; and home "e went. The home whither 
I, an English lad of seventeen, and my surly 
guide, were wending our way under the load 
of roùs, and leaping- poles, and creels wen 
filled with pike and perch, was Fladswäst, a 
vil!age lying north of Stcerup, and nearer to thc 
fens and the coast. If Stcerup was chiefly 
German (though there were Danish families too, 
sitting, with sad hearts, in back rooms, and 
trying to shut out the clamour of the enemies 
of their country), Fladswäst was as Scandina- 
vian as Harold Harfager. Quite nine houses 
out of ten were inhabited by people of the pure 
Danish stock; many of them natives of the 
isles, or North Jntland. But the most thorough 
Dane, in heart and sonl, that dwelt in Flads" äst, 
was certainly my guide, philosopher, and friend, 
in all matters of boating, fishing, and fowling, 
Captain Bluenose. 
This old man's real name was Peter Voss. 
He was a Laaland man. He had sen'ed, I 
think, as a "powder monkey," but at any rate 
as a boy, on board one of the Dauish frigates in 
the Copenhagrn sea-fight of 1807. An unlucky 
shot from some English ship had fired the Dane's 
magazine, doing dreadful mischief, and blowing 
poor little Pete I', as he phrased it, "like a 
feather" up the hatchway. The child was not 
maimed nor blinded; but a quantity of the Joose 
gunpowder was blown into his face, and disfigured 
him for life, producing the effect of a ghastly 
and indelible tattooing. Hence, Peter Voss re- 
ceived the nickname of Bluenose, which stuck 
to him to the last. He had been man-of- 
war's-mall, smuggler, boatswain of an India- 
man, a Singapore pilot, mate of an opium clipper, 
and what not. At last he }md come back, well 
to do, from the far East; had married the heiress 
of a small Schleswig farmer, and succeeded in 
right of his wife to the farm. But he had never 
quite divorced himself from'the blue water on 
which his best years had been spent. He was 
still master ami owner of a tidy sloop, lying at 
Kappel, and made many a profitable cruise, sell- 
ing grain and bullocks among the islands, and 
bringing back eider-down, salt fish, wool, and 
Norway spars. Hence he was always called 
Schipper Blauness, a name which I Anglicised 
into Captain Bluenose, much to its owner's 
sat isfaction. 
For the tough old seaman bore no grudge to 
the Britons for his own share of the defeat which 
" Nelson and the North" inflicted on Prince 
.Frederick's fleet. If we English had not seized 
the ships, he was wont to say, the :French woulù, 
and he was rather proud, than otherwise, of the 
manly resistance which had been offercd to so 
mighty a neighbour. And he had served on board 


an English man-of-war, where he had learncd to 
speak our tongue very intelli
'ibly, and had a 

urious sort of Jiking for whate
er bore the Eng- 
lIsh name. lienee, no doubt, his fancy for me 
a pupil, as I "Was thcn, of ßfr. BIenek, the pasto; 
of Jnadswäst, a great classical scholar and accom- 
plished linguist, as are many persons in North 
Europe, "hose hum hIe life is passed ,vithin 
the whitewashed wans of a Lutheran manse. 
1
l" Blenck's stipend was small, since though 
IllS glebe was large, he did not farm it as skilfully 
as sOllie of the Danish clergy, than whom, in 
their old-fashioned way, t.here are no better 
fanners, and he added to it by taking pupils. 
Three months before, there had' been t'hree Eng- 
lish youths under the pastor's roof. But the 
others had been recaned, as soon as the revo-" 
lutionary disturbances broke out throufJ'hout 
"\Vestern Europe, their parents fearing n they 
might come to harm among the wars and riots 
that prevailed. I, then, was the only pupil left, 
and as I had a good deal of leisure, was glad to 
make an ally of Captain Bluenose, t.he best 
fowler and fishcr in that village of fowlers and 
fishers, and to enjoy the sports of the country 
under his guidance. The skipper w
 well off ; 
he could indulge himself with a holiday twice a. 
week, without much detriment to his affairs, and 
it was wonderful what havoc among hirds and 
fish his lines and nets, his gnns and decm-s, 
contrived to make. W 
At Voss's farm I was always a welcome 
guest. His wife was dead, but he was not alone 
in the world, for besides H an Voss, his son, he 
had a daughter, Lilien. lIan was about my own 
age, a handsome, dreamy-eyed boy, with a sweet 
temper and a slow intellect, a direct contrast to 
his fierce old father; who was fiery by nature, 
t.hough he had a peculiar power of concealing 
his emotions bcneath an exterior as rigid as 
t.hat of a mask. Lilien was a 100'elv little 
creature of nine or ten, with hair like wrippled 
gold, the brightest face, the bluest eyes, and the 
light step of a fairy. Indeed, one might have 
taken the girl for a fairy, her cleverness and 
grace being something surprising at her years; 
while there was a delicacy about her appearance 
that almost tallied with the description of the 
J utlalld elves. Both of old Peter's chiìdren 
loved him dearly, and a kind father he was to 
them, much as Han's lack of the old Norse 
shrewdness sometimes tried his temper; but 
Liliell was his idol. He wonld spend hours in 
carving- dolls for her wit.h his clasp knife and a 
bit of alder wood, and in drcssing these dolls 
with scraps of bright-coloured rag, after the 
fashion of the strange nations he II ad seen in far- 
off climes, He was never weary of telling her 
endless stories of China, and the :Malay Archi- 
pelago, and the Spanish .Main, to whicl.1. Lilien, 
on her part, would listen \\ ith breat hless atten- 
tion. I won the little laùy's favour by relating 
to her some of the wonders of English civili- 
satiml, and by describing to her the railways, 
the steamers, the cro\\ ded shipping in the 
Thames, the roar, and rush, and surge of hum all 
life to be witnessed in Lonùon. 1'0 all these 



II 


AI
L 'fIlE YFAIt nO{;Xn. 


(1larcb l..!, I
 l] 117 


C''- I] II Dicken..] 


things Lille Lilicn-or Lit tle I.ilv. as I generallJ 
called her-would li:h
n \\ it h her grave blue 
c)es fixed almo
t \\istfully upon my he". eVil' 
and anon looking inquiringly round at her f.lther 
I as iC to ask-" Can this be true?tt And \\ hell thc 
: old man nodded as<:ent. the child \\ ould nestle 
I close to me, and look stu
dily up in my face as 
II she drank in every \\ onl. I could talk to her 
II in :English. but poor Han ne\ er picked up more 
than a (ew sentences of our language, then. as 
II now, very common in Denmark. 
A grcat change had comr over my simple 
Cricnd:J since t he insurrection in the duchies, and 
the entry of the German troops. 110st of the 
Flad
\\ ii.:,t peoplr, being 1)anes, \\ ere true to King 
}'rcderid.; hut their loyalty did not prompt them 
to fill) act likely to occasion the burning oC their 
home'5tcads or the pillage of their barns. They 
dr.mk the ling's health, and wished all manner 
of ill to the in\'adcrs, but it \\a!! known that 
Captain Bluenose Imd vainly used his influence 
to raise a band of partisan soldiery to harass 
the German outpo
ts. The other Carmel's hung 
back from any rash demonstration of patrioti
m, 
pointing out, not without much show of reason. 
how hopeless \1'ould be a guerilla struggle in 
such a country. 
Thus it came about, as the German triumph 
over the Danes grew daily more assureù, the 
old mariner became more and \norc silent and 
morose. and spent hours in gloomy and bitter 
thoughtfulne
s. lian, who admired his father, 
and accepted every opinion of his without 
question or comment, once timidly offered to 
cnli
t as a voluntecr in the Dani!!h army, and 
: I got a grim smile of approval for his pains, But 
old l)cter \\ould not agree to the propo
al. 
"Thou art so calf-headed, lad, that thou 
II wouldst get thy simple brains hnockcd out in 
I the first slirmish," said Peter, with rough 
liudline
s; u Sve
 n Dumn..a, that the S\\ edes 
made a ballad about. was not slower-witted than 
I my lIan, though I l..no\V my son's heart is in 
I the right place. I'll not part \\ it h thee," 
But lIan, too, fell to thinling to an un- 
accustomed extent. and I have seen his 1") e 
liudle. and his cheek flush, many a time when I 
was 
itting in the great hitehen". or the Sunday 
parlour at the farm, chatting with the slippcr, 
or coa'\:ing Lily to sing some old Dani!!h song 
of Trolls, and l\Iermaidens, and gallant sea- 
rovcrs, in thc (Juaint language that came near to 
the Icelandic Itself. E\"en Lilien was more 
solemn than beCore. and often asked me if I did 
not u think the Trons would come to the help 
of Denmark." liut \\ hcn I laughed at the 
notion of such fairy au'\:iliaries, i
ille Lilien's 
look changed to one of offendcd dignit.v, and 
:-he rebuled ml" for ri(hculing the Trolls. 
I lIo\\ e\ er, neithcr champion nor fairy ap r eared 
able or "iIlin
 to do much for ro
a rule 
in Sehlcs\\ i
. since German soldiers and \ olun- 
t eel'S 0\ erran the country unmolested. and 
the entire German populntioa made common 
cause \\ ith the ill\"ader. I::itill the Dani::.h Corce 
in the island oC 
\lsen, secured by t he sea 
(Denmark's best friend), and backed by scveral 


I 
I 


armed H"scls. }u:h1 out firmly. and the marsh\ 
countr) bet\\eell .FlcnsburO' dnd the ]
.ùtie wås 

till l'dtrolled by Ddni!>h IlOrse" A caftJp h.l<l 
bren Cormed at a J11,tce called rIdxb) p. on a 
s\\ampy tongue oC land nearly opl'o::.ite to the 
island. and in this camp were quartered tbe 
D.mish cavalry and one or two battalions of 
fQot, guardin
 a quantity of stores and material 
of \\ 301'. \\ hieh it had not bceu found C011\ enient 
to remove by sea. This camp, small as it "as. 
\US still an e) esore to the Germans, and it "ouid 
proh.tbly Jmve been instantly aSMiled, had it not 
been \ery difficult of access. The main road to 
.Flaxbye \\ as indeed circuitous, and in more than 
one place was commanded by carthworks still in 
Damsh heeping, \\ hile pontoons would be needed 
for the passage of streams and crecks, the 
bridges over which had been blo" n up. So 
.Flaxb\e was lcft undisturbed Cor a little time 

r. "BIenek, my worthy tutor, who \\ ould, I 
believe, ha\"e taught Greek without trippinO' 
over a tense or a part ide, while Nero ,,
 
burnin
 Rome about his ears, cxpre'55ed his 
mild concern that I 
hould have 
ro\\ n so inat- 
tent i\.e and unpunctual in my studies. But for 
the life of me 1 could not help it. Boy as 1 
\\ as, the deep thrill that pervaded the popular 
heaIt reached mine and made it quiver \\ith 
sympathy for the shamc, the sorrow, the despe- 
rate hopes, of those about me Every day 
brought some fresh rumour: now that a S" cd ish 
army was landin
; now that Eu
land was 
coming to the re
eue; now that all DJ.nes were 
to be ùri\Cn trom house and home, and banished. 
liut nothin
 of much moment occurred, until 
1 he roll of the J!russi:m drull1s was heard in 
'Flad
\\äst one fine afternoon, and I dropped my 
Herodotus and Lexicon, and. sn.J.tching my hat, 
ran out of the manse, deaf to my tutor's up- 
braidiugs. 
In thc little marlet-place, under the cool 
limc-trees. almost all the population of the 
village had collected. while the troops had been 
halted on the pand space in the middle of the 
square. I instantly guessed that some mischief 
\\ as meant. Had it bcen designed merely to 
disarm the pcople and dismisii the Amtmann, 
as had been done else" here, a tithe of the force 
present \\ould ha\(. sufficed. But as it \\'"aJ, my 
r
.e ranged hastilJ 0\ er a battalion of llrussian 
infantry, a company of Jagers, and some hun- 
drcds of riflemen belonging to the half-disci. 
plincd .Frre Corps. escorted by some cavallY 
and fout" guns. Of the cavalry about forty, or 
half a troop, were lancers, and I counted 
se\"enty-nine hussars. The admnce oC this im- 
posing force augured ill for the security of the 
fc\v Danes left 011 the mainland, and this thought 
struck ot hers. for I heard the \\ ord. 
u }'la
b)e! .Flax.bye!" muttelcd nIl around 
me. 
Brigadier Hahn. who comm'\nded the column. 
came ì'or\Vard at the head of the little J..not of 
officers that formed his staff. and ordered 
silence, reinin
 in his horse and holding up his 
s" onI to indicate that a speech" as to be cx- 
pccted. 'fhcrc \\ as a dead hush j all \\\;rc so 


" 



[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


lIS [llarch 12, 1864_] 


, r 


eager to know the worst. The brigadier, a 
stity martinet, hut accounted a valuable and ac- 
tive officer, glanced frowningly to left and right. 
He saw anxious faces, but no smile of welcome, 
not a rosette of the Schles\"ig colours, not a 
scrap of tricolored ribbon. The Danes had too 
much manliness to curry favour with the foe 
by wearing t.hese hated emblems, and the few 
Germans in the Flads\Tä:>t were too prudent or 
too kind to outrage the feelings of their neigh- 
bourse 
Brigadier Hahn rated us all collectively in 
the purest court German, which every l1'1an and 
woman there, of whichever race, understood 
sufficiently well, save myself. I could only 
pick up broken scraps of the discoursè, 
but I gathered that the Fladswästers were 
abused as a pack of disloyal churls, unfit for 
liberty, that they were threatened with all sorts 
of penalties for givÍ11g' countenance to the canse 
of Denmark, and that the Prussian ended by 
demanding guides to show the nearest way to 
Flaxbye. There was a murmur, for suspicion 
had been exchanged for certainty. Flaxbye 
was to be attacked, aud by surprise, if the 
cnemy could manage it. It was well known 
that a road existed between our ,-illage and the 
Danish camp, but so miry and wet, so intricate, 
that few but the FIads" äst felmers, when out 
after wild-fowl, could have pointed out the true 
course. And this fact the Prussian commander 
cfidelltly kncw well. 
"I must have two guides. Do you hear? 
Tausand Tciflern! must I have you pricked by 
bayonets to sharpen your wits !" called out the 
bl"igadier, harshly. The Free Corps bcgan to 
get noisy as they heard the general's voice in 
anger; hard words were b::mdied from side to 
side, and I dare say the village might have been 
sacked, or even burned, on light provocat.ion. 
But the officcrs were firm, and in a few moments 
all was quiet again, .When the brigadier next 
spoke it wag in a different key. 
"Come, my lads, there's no use in ma1.ing 
wry faces. You are all subjects of Sehleswig- 
Holstein, and had better forget the king of Co- 
penhagen as soou as may be. tVe don't want 
to harm peaceahle people; but that" asps' 
nest 
at Flaxhye shall be smoked out, if I havc to 
burn fifty hamlets in the doing it. Give me 
guides, and I promise you protediol1. Come, I 
offer a hundred ri
dol1ars, .Will 110 sellsible 
fellow step forward ?" 
No reply. 
"Two hundred. Three," repeated the Prus- 
sian, more impatiently. A man came shoulder- 
in
 for" ard through the crowd, dragging a 
youth by the arm. 
" I'm your man, general. For three hundred 
ri:t.dol1ars in hard money, I'll guide you to Flax- 
byc, by day or night; for I know every inch of the 
'....ay, and my boy here knows it as well as I do," 
'1'0 my astonishment-and astonishment is a 
mild woÌ'd for the stupefaction with which I lis- 
tened to these words - thc man ,,,as mv own 
dear Captain Bluenosc, the staunchest D
ne in 
thc place. The lad, of course, was Han. I think 


'I 
I 


the ncighbours were as surpl'ised as I was. They 
were silent for a minute, and then there broke 
out a storm of hissing aud curses. 
Old Peter stood up undaunted. His grim 
face betra,yed no touch of shame, but Han hunO' 
his head, and I could see that he was s0bbing a
 
he stood beside his father under that haibtorm 
of disgrace. Some of thQ Prussian troopers 
were now ordered to ride into the Cl'owd and 
enforce order, "hich they did by beating the 
people o\-er the heads and shoulders with the 
flats of their swords, but not very severely, and 
the throng soon sunk into a dead, sullen silence. 
The bri
adier gazed hard and long at the rugged 
face of his volunteer guide, and the scrutiny did 
not seem to satisfy him. 
"You look a determined feHow. You have 
the air of one who has sel'ved, too," said the I 
general, with a piercing glance at the tough old 
mariner. "Of course there are two sides to 
the bar
ain. Guide us well, and I pay you I 
clown the cash as soon as \\ e ha\""e destroyed I 
the camp. )lislead or betray us, and I will 
have you shot like a dog. Do you know that ?" 
The voice of old V 03S was very thick and ! I 
husky, like that of a drunken man, though it 
was plain that he waS sober, as he replied un- 
flinchingly : 
"Herr General, I accept the bargain. 
ly 
lifr, and Han's life, against three hundred 
silver dolhrs. I don't say it's a pleasant job, 
but I'm in dcbt over head and ears, and "ant to 
be off to America, and this money--OJ 
"Enough, enough!" broke in the general, 
with an involuntary sneer; "the money shall 
be yours if you earn it. Corporal Hencke, take 
two file and guard these men. They must not 
give us the slip. The troops may stand at ease. 
The assembly ,,-ill sound in due time." 
I never saw such indignation, horror, or 
amazement, stamped on human faces as on those 
of the inhabitants of Flads\\'äst, when they 
thoroughly understood that the bargain was 
struck, and that the old skipper. hitherto re- 
spected b'y aU, was to be the traitor who was to 
lead thc Prussians to his countrymcn's place of 
refuge. Some of the elder men still shook their 
heads, and seemcd deaf to conviction, but the 
young and the females, more impulsive, could 
not find words to express their loathing for the 
,'eteran's treachery. The men, cowed. by the 
presence of the troops, did not venture on loud 
specch, but some of the ,,"omen set up a shrill 
cry of H Judas!" followed by an outburst of 
frantic e:{ecratioll, such as it was terrible to 
hear. I thought I saw old Voss wince a little, 
but his stern countenance betrayed no emotion, 
and I turned away with a sickness of heart such 
as I had ne,,-er felt before. I made my" ay out 
of thc village, and quickly, for already there was 
talk of posting sentries, on the part of the 
Germans, all every road, to prevent intelligence 
from being conv.eyed to the Danes. Indeed, 
although the bulk of the troops were crowd. 
ing into the kro and beer-houses, or settling in 
impromptu bi\"ouacs to take what refreshment 
the eommissarY:l::d them, patrob 


j 



Chari 8 Dl kens.] 



\LL THE YE.\U Jl017
D. 


to move about, and I was pursued, as I It''ft the 
plnc", hy a h 
rse flhout to biù me return. I 
pu:ohed on, howevU", a..d ".\S soon far flOm 
FIads,\ ii
. 
ror ome time I "alked on rapidly, trying- to 
dro\Hl thought by violent excrtion. Thcn,,, hell 
I found mJ elf hr alon!:; the" ay from the \il- 
l 
e to the sca, 1 pa ')eù through a gap into a 
meadow, flung Illy:self on the soft turf bcneat h n 
gnarled ever",reen oak, and 
a\"e myself up to 
thou
hts tl at were anyt hin
 but pleasant ones. 
B')y 't hat I was, I !"new lit tie and cared less for 
the polit ical hearings of the case; but my s
 m. 
pathi s were with the Dane
, among whom I had 
lived, rnd from \\ hom I had received much homely 
kil1c1m',s. I had been an honoured guest in their 
great fann-h..JUses, "here employers and servants 
sat together in primiti\e fashion around the 
huge stO\ e in \' inter, and "here the copper and 
tin \-e._
 Is on the walls glittered like actual 
gold and sih er in the candlelight. They had 
tau
ht me to shoot and to Dlana
e a boat, lmd 
taken me out on many an e'tpedition by land 
and" ater, and ah\ ays vied \\ith one another in 
good-n:Üured hospitality to the lonely Engli
h 
lad, their pa::.tor's pupil. .And now- 
I tLonght of my poor friends, disarmed, brow- 
beatEn, trudden do\\ 11 by the German majority, 
and perhaps eun driven from their homes and 
fielùs to mal.e "ay for the conquerors. I 
thou
ht of the slaughter and disgrace of the 
banùlUlof troops at Fla1(hye, taken unawares 
as thcy woulù be, and weakened, as I haù but 
yesterday heard they ",cre, by the withdrawal of 
most of the infantry either to Alsen or the 
stron; intrenched camp of Düppel, I) ing north 
on the mainland, and at the usual ferry bet" cen 
the ishu1Ll and the Schles" ig coast. And then 
I thought, more in sorrow than resentment, how 
shamefully I had been deceived in Captain 
Bluenose, my best friend amon
 all those harJy 
fenmen, aJid one "horn I had esteemed as a 
brnve, honest-hearted old patriot. To be sure, 
he \fas in debt, so he saiù, and debt often 
dri\"Cs men to shameful acts; but thcn how 
co ld old lJIuenose be in debt. It was a puzzle 
to m(', as I remembered l]is farm, freehold 
land, small but well stocked, his sloop, and 
his thrifty habits. I had got thns far in my 
pertnrbed thoughts, "hen something bright- 
colonred, like a tropic bird, went flashing past 
bet" .{'n the green hedges of t he Jane. I raiscd 
mj 
elf on my elbow and looked aftcr it. It was 
but a mQTß('nt and thc trees shut it out from 
,-ie',,", but my eye caught a 
limpse of a child 
wl...in
 a little scarltt cloak \\ilh a hood, such 
as " Lllle Lilien" wore, and on accouut of " hich 
loft n llanlld h(:l' in jest U Little Hcd Ridin
 
110 Id," a1 (1 bade her tnke care lest woh-es shoul
 
c. her. Ihe I uod had fallen b..ck, and a tress 
?f thc lilt I
 mai(l u's lmi.r hung ]00
.J and gleam cd 
III d- 'tmg sun for an lDstant, then ßll \anished 
hle a d. \..un. I callt:d hcr name, but there \Tas 
no re".IJ, and I supposed D1Jseì1' mistaI..cn. 
The "Ull 
'Ulk low\.r and lo\\u, but the air was 
still \\.. n, n<l I \
..S in no hurry to go hck to 
E' ....
. It n .
s no" th'1t I srood ill "\\fe of 


[&1'1 b 1.,1 I.] 119 



I. Blenck's reproaches; my good tutor's anger 
at my truancy \\a5 SUl'e to be gently c'tprlssed. 
Dut I could lJot cndure to hear the bustle and 
din made by t he Germans in the village, and I 
was a\ erse to witneuill
 the bumiliation of my 
friends. Poor Captain Bluenose! I could never 
a ain sit at bis fireside or go out with him in 
his boat, listening gladJy to his stories of far- 
n" ny scene's and ad'-entures. 
Before I had gone half a mile towards 
hOlllc, I heard tbe steady tramp of troops, 
and the he:ìd of the column appeared. First 
l'ode two vidette
, with carbines unslung. On 
catching sight of me, they came up at a trot, 
and called to me to halt. I lool.ed about me 
for the means of escapc, but t he hedges were 
bigh and thick, and 1 had no choice but to 
ob('y. One of the hussars clutched me by the 
collar, and compelled me to "alk beside his 
horse till I was led into the presence of B1Ïga- 
dier Hahn, who bluntly accused me of being a 
spy, and ordered me to be searched. Nothin
 
of a compromising nature, of course, was found 
in my pockets; but I think the 
cneral was 
sorry for the circumstance. He gmlliy said that 
.. Englande1's were a conceited set, and must not 
think to have their own way "hen dealing with 
Royal Pmssian officers." Instcad of suffering 
me to go hon1P, he ga\"e orders that I should be 
placed beside the guideg, and accompany the 
column. 
For some time, I really did not venture to 
look at my companions. There were tears in 
my own eyes, and I could not bear to look Voss 
ill the face. Presently I f>tole a look at lIan. 
To my surprise, he was no longer the shame- 
stricken lad who bad stood beside his father 
that day, cowering under thc popular scorn. 
No. His head was erect; his eye bright and 
bold. He looked like a young hero, marching 
out to battle in a good cause and "ith a good 
conscience. There" as a ne\\ ly-awakened intelli- 
gence iu his face that seemed to transform it. 
Bluenose-who had betrayed his 0\\11 people for 
German bribes-it \Vas wonderful to see how 
calm he \\ as as he walked, under a strong gU:1rd, 
in front of the column. Both he and his SOil 
were fastened by cords to the saddle-bows of 
Prussian troopers, and were ,-igilantly watcheJ, 
but aUo" cd to talk to each other in a low,"oice. 
The slipper ga\'e me a nod as I was placed near 
him, and I suppose, e\en in the dusk, he sa\Y 
the working of my face, since he said, quietly: 
" I thought it was not the English fa5hion to 
be hasty in jutlging 311 old 1'1 iClld. I1now "hat 
JGU think, boy; but, wait-\\ait." 
Presently Han asled if I had" seen Lilien ?" 
" Then it \\a5 Lilien," said I, eagerly, "\\ho 
ran past in her red cloak; but why-" 
" Silence, nil. Silence !" said all officet', who 
rode nenr; and nothing' more was said. The 
mareh was conducted cautiously, \\ ithout beat 
of drum, and the soldiers wcre ,"cry quit t, 
thou
h the Free Corps often broke int ) îtr l . d 
uf the :i\ational Ih-mn, and it cr- 
 tJ.n chi
 
IhllCh trouble to JìU8h tJ'"lI. }
jr t roJI' the 
bu 
 11. tJ 11 C:' n tb^ Pru

i ns, ß.ld tl..rdly 



120 


p[arch 12, 1864.] 


ALL THE YE
\rr rrOU
D. 


I i i 
the Free Corps; then the Jag-ers, ",ith cannon 
'I and lancers in the rear. It was soon dark, but 
though the network of lanes was most intricate, 
the guides 1..new the country so well that they 
nerer hesitated. But the roads were of the 
worst, aud, in spite of the dry weather, the 
tenacious mire and deep ruts made it. cruel work 
to dra
 the guns. The progress of the force 
was therefore slow. 
The pale new moon and stars threw a cold 
light down upon us as we toiled on. Presently 
I felt the sea-breeze on my cheek, and knew that 
:Flaxbye must be near. 1Ye were in- a wild 
country, full of meres and brooks, with high 
dykes 
md stone walls on each side the narrow 
road. But the Germans were confident of an 
easy victory, and I }Ieard the officers mutter 
congratulations to each other as we pressed on. 
:For my own part, I was puzzled. r1'he calm of 
Voss's bearinf!', the pride of the son's manner, 
\vhich would have become a victor rather than 
a traitor, perpleJ>.ed me. r1'hen, if Lilien had 
passed me as 1 lay, whither was she bound, and 
wherefore? To these mental queries a tremen- 
dous answer was about to be returned. 
The column was labouring through miry 
ground, where the feet. sank into deep mud at 
e\"ery step. Suddenly a bugle sounded, and 
at the first note old Captain Bluenose sprang 
like a tiger on tlle dragC)on at his side, wrested 
his sabre from him, and, cutting the cords that 
bound himself and Han to their captors, waved 
his hat high in air with his left hand, shouting, 
" Hurrah for old Denmark and the King !" 
In an instant the long wall was bristling with 
levelled muskets and the heads of soldiers in the 
weU known Danish uniform, while with a cheer 
of "God save Denmark !" they poured a heavy 
volley into the closely-packed ranks of the 
Prussians. rfhus much I saw. 1 heard, too, 
the galloping of horse in our front, the cheers 
and shouts of infantry and cavalry rushing for- 
ward, the word of command among the Prus- 
sians, the yells, cries, clamour, and groans, 
mingled with tIle incessant ring of musketry. 
It was plain that the German troops were 
caught in a trap, and, from what I heard, I 
gathered that the raw levies of the Free Corps 
had given way, and that the surprise was 
successful and complete. Around the spot 
where I stood the confusion was fearful, and, as 
I was swept forward and dri\'en against the 
bank by a rush of plunging horses, I saw a 
dozen sabres and pistols raised in vengeance, 
while I heard an angry shout to kill the guides. 
:For one of these I was probably mistaken: a 
trooper spurred upon me, and dealt me a furious 
stroke with his sabre. The fiat of the blade 
alone, by good luck, fell on my head; but I was 
beaten down on the bank, and the hussar, with 


II 
a savage curse, swung back his arm for a surer ,I 
blow, rl'hen I remember Lilien's mwel face 'I 
and golden hair coming between me 
nd the I 
soldier, and her outstretched arm as she lifted it 
over me in mute entreaty. Perhaps the trooper 
had a recollection of child-sisters of lJÌs own at 
home in Germany; for he hesitated to strike, 
and as he did so, a stray shot brought his horse 
to the ground. He was taken prisoner by the 
Danish troops, who were now in full pursuit of 
the retreating enemy. 
Poor Captain .Bluenose was not alive to 
share the triumph of his countrymen. He had 
been shot dead by one of the hussars, and 
lay, calm and stern as in life, while Han lay 
beside him, wounded, but li\<-ing; and Lilian 
threw herself on her dear father's body with 
a piteous cry that I shall never forget. Han 
recovered from his wounds, and, when be came 
out of hospital, sold house and land, and took 
his little sister away with him to Laaland, I 
believe, where the old man had relations. I 
never saw the bright little face again; but it 
was well known in Denmark and Schleswig that 
myoId friend had feigned to lead the enemy 
against his countrymen merely to serve the 
cause he loved better than Me itself. He had 
formed the resolution in hast\', and as a child 
would not be suspected of carrying intelligence, 
he had found means secretly to despatch Lilian 
by a shorter route with a few written worus to 
the Dauish general at Flaxbye, and hence the. 
ambuscade and its successful results. . 
No man's memory is more honoured among 
the honest Danes of Flads\V
ist than that of poor 
old Voss, or M they lo\'e best to call him, 
Captain Bluenose. Nor have I ever seen the 
Captain's grave, in my subsequent visits to the 
place, in a neglected condition, or without a 
wreath of the freshest flowers, all the summer 
through. Fladswäst fell for a time into Danish 
hands, though the Germans soon re
aincd it. 
Before that day 
ame my parents, alarmed for 
my safety, recalled me to England, and it was 
not till long after that I revisited Delllmrk, 


NEW WORK EY MR. DICKE};S, 
In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of 
.. Pickwick," .. Copperfield," &c. 
On APRIL 30th wi1l be published, PART I., price Is., of 


A NE\J WORK BY CHARLES DICKENS 


IN TWENTY 1I10NTIlLY PARTS. 
With IHustr:Ltions by MARCUS STOXE. 
London: CHAPMAN and HUL, 193, PiccadiUy. 


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POl/nds, the TE1V VOLU.MES of ALL THE YEAR ROUND, completed since 
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II 
II 


TilL coTOP.Y OF on: L1VFe; FR0:\[ 1 E \P. TO YF \R."-SHAKE8PEARIt. 


ItLL 1'11E YE1\TI, I
,OUND. 



\ 1YEEKLï .JOCHK
\L. 
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
WIfII WHICH I
 IKCOP.POI:ATI'D HOLSFHOLD "OP.DS. 


:K O . :!;)ü.] 


S.\TURD.\Y. :MAUCIl 19, ISIH. 


[PlUCE 2d. 


Con"t:mt was prit"atch of the pricst's opinion. 
Q"CITE .AIO
E. but certain reason!!, at which the intclligent 
-+-- reader may have alrcadj hazarded n surmi
e, 
Doo!\. 'XIIE FIItST: CIIILDJlOOD. rendered him reluctant to follow the friendly 
advice of his pastor. lie passed sc\Cral da)s in 
CII \PTElt XI. ESDS A'S IDYLL. perplexity, anxiouslr re\ olving plans in his mind 
TilE 'Iarouillais be
an to talk ..candal about for modifying the condition of his too handsome 
J. ß. CJnstant and his too precocious stable- servant, when Valérie brought the matter to 

irl and chambermaid, for she now officiated a solution by a voluntary suggestion that she 
in both capc.lcities. still prcscrving her asceu- shou1d be sent to school for a couple of ) ears. 
clancy as mi..tres"l of the hor
e, but. having a lad "I am tired of tendin
 horses." she said. 
I to a
' hcr. The mayor warned thc innkeeper ")Iy hands are not jet quite spoiled j hut si"{ 
Rgaim the"" hbperin
 tou!;Ues that poison months morc of stable-work will make tbpm 
 
t
th." ll_ Ie Cure insisted that, for moralit)'s hard as buffalo-skin. I am tired of bein
 igno- 
sàke, the girl shoulJ be sent away. rant. It is as much as I can do to re'ld the big 
"She is fit for something better tll'\11 a. fiUe painted letters under the four lilies on the si'!D.- 
d'auhergr," he reprf' ented. board. I can't write at aU. I want to be able 
"Granted, mon<;it'ur," returned Constant. to rcad the Gazette de France, and to play the 
c< nut how is her condition to be bettered ?" piano, and paint picturcs, and \\ rite letters, and 
"The gooJ &isters at A\ignon," hinted the be a ladv." 
eeclf'':ii.l:.tie. .. VastJy weU, mademoiseHe," replied Con..tant, 
Constant &book his head. "ith subdued irony. "But who. pra
'. is to I-Y 
.. The good sistcrs." he remarked, U would, I for your education ?" 
much fear, be powerlcs
 in turning Valéric into a c'That is ) our affair, not mine. If you choose 
Sister of Charity or a vill.lge &choolmistress, to send me to school it will be bettcr for vou. 
and "hat more could they do with her? It is a If 
ou won't, I will get a livret from 
i. If:' 
pit
 that she \\ as not sent to them Ì\\ 0 years 'bire, and seek a servant's plaee at A vigut'l1}. 
ago. Then they might have had the credit of )Iy aunt \\ ill givc me permission, and) ou must 
her sudùen C011\ ersion. 1:'or the rest, it is no give me a character." 
affair uf mine. An innkeeper may hm e a servant- The argument was unanswerablc. Jean Bap- 
maiù. 
he is a capital servant, and her aunt is tiste had prospered at the Lilies of France, and 
there to watch over her." could \\ell afford the outIa\. :For the sum of a 
It \\as the curate's turn to shale his head. thousand francs, a lady 'keeping a boarding- 
c. 
lon ami," he said. "that poor ignorant old school at L\ons consented to receit"e 
lac1c- 
"oman is a mere baby in the hands of that girl. moiselle ValJrie &blon-for that was tlle real 
She C'ln no longer be chas!Ïsed. The time for name of her aunf-for twelve months and to in- 
the cord and the thong is past." stnlet her in all the accomplishments. The girl 
"I should lile to see anyone attempting to had rcfu.,ed point-blank to enter a conventu.tl 
lay a hand on Yalcrie." e'tcl.limcd the innlecper, ...chool, and had "elected Ljons in preference to 
"ith a sudden start, ami clenching his fists, \vignon, bccau "" she c:aid. she did not wi
h to 
"1111. parol- d'honueur! I would c
tenuinatc me t any of those p 'op'e ('f .MarouiUais bv 
him." chance in thrir \ i:,it3 to the to\\ n. J. :B. 
"There i3 no fcar of 
uch au e\ entualit
." -the Constant :\g-reed that in this particular she 
curé rrÌ11med j "nor," he (''Intinueù, ill gentle I \\ a in the right; llor, \\ hcn she left 
Iarouil1e- 
reproof, "is thcre any ncrd for.a fallible human le-Gcney, did hc make public tbe f.
ct tha
 sbe 
cre1turc tv spt;ak of · extermiuation'-a tcrrible \vas about to procecd to 5chool to reCf'I\" a 
pllwer, 'e:.t
d only in Omnipotence." polite education. He merely said that a married 
" I ask jOur pardon. 
l. Ie ClIre." sister of hi.., who kept an hotel at Lyon had 
'''Tis granted, my friend. But, nevertheless, agrcLd to recei\ e Yalerie, and to look aftf"r 

rt rid of that young creature; if )OU don't, hcr morals, and m:t.ke her useful. La Beugleu e 
malicious tongues 
ill continue to wag, and e\'il did not care to contradict thi'! statement. 
"ill follow." Perhaps she was nc\er enlightened as to the 


\OL. 


2. I 



ALL THE YEAR nOU
D. 


122 


plarch 19, l8G!.] 


(Conducteù by i 
I 
stead of one, she ,,-ould answcr for her lcaving, 
fitted to move in the ver
- highest circles. She 
did not know that J. B. Constant was a mere 
village innkeeper. He Lad seen the world, and 
served noblcmen, and at Lyons he put on his 
be:.t clothes and his best manners. 
There was one drop of bitterness in the hur- 
ried account the goyel'lless gave of her pupil. 
:Mademoisclle, she said, was a young person 
difficult to manage. She would not endure rc- 
proof. Slle wo
ld not hear reason. Her tem- 
per was terrible, "\Y e "ill make the pension 
twelve hundred francs a veal' instead of a 
thousand, and JOU must m
ke aUow&nces for 
Mademoiselle's tcmper," said Constant. "Poor 
child, she never knew her motller, and in early 

-ears was unkindly treated!" Thc schoolmistress 
was a sagacious as well as a sympathising instruc- 
tress, and for the extra stipend a!5reed to say 
nothing more about Valérie's indisposition to 
hear reason. 
1Vhen J. B. Constant had an inten iew with 
his protégée, the governess being present, she 
recei,,-ed him with a stately curt.sey, and eyes 
demurely cast do\\ n; but when :.Madame du 
Verger discreetly lcft them together, she ac- 
costed the innkeeper with a haughty familiarity 
that was half redolent of the old rough manners 
of the stable-girl, and half satirical. 
" Ah, ça, mon hommc!" she cried. "1Yhat do 
you think of me noW'? .Am I grown? Are my 
hands coarse? Is my voiee harsh?" 
As he was going away, full of love and hopc, 
though slightly discomfited by this reception: 
"And La Beugleuse, the old hag who used to 
fio!r me-is she dead ?" 
"Your aunt is alive, V alérie," Constant said, 
with a reproachful look. 
" I am sorry for it. Such old witches ought 
to die. I hate her, and will pay her out for all 
the blows she has given me. Besides, when I 
go into the world she will disgrace me. To have 
an aunt who has worked in the fields! To have 
an aunt who was a mere beast of burden! Quoi! 
}'Ion homme, you must take care that she never 
leaves .Marouille." And so, with the stately eurt. 
sey, in strange disunion" ith her hard and bitter 
talk, the girl left him. 
She never wrote to her aunt. The old woman 
was by no means despondent under this neglect. 
She merely muttered that Valérie would be a 
good-far-nothing, even if she were married to 111. 
le Préfet, and then 'Hnt on working harder than 
cver. To Jean Baptiste the exemplary pension- 
naire at }'ladmne du Vergcr's wrote with toler- 
able regularity once a month. Her letters always 
began ".Mon bon ami," as if this young pauper had \ 
been an empress, and Constant president of a re- I 
public. :l\Iadame du Verger had suggested "Mon I 
cher bienfaiteur," but Y alérie had refused point- 
blank to adopt the formula. She wrote in a 
bold flowing h:;md, her letters contained a dry II 
slimmary of her educational progress-of the 
books she had read, and the accomplishments II ' 
she had mastercd-and ended, "Valérie Sablon" 


real state of the case. In truth, shc had not 
fairly recovereù from the state of be" ilderment 
into which the sudden metamorphosis of the 
little grubby good-for-nothing she had adopted, 
had thrown her. So, ,,-hen Yalérie went away, 
La Beuglcuse looked upon hel' "ithdrawal very 
much in the light of a relief from an cmbarrass- 
ing position. 
Bnt why this concealment on the part of Jean 
Baptiste? 'Yhy should the upright J. B. Con- 
stant think L) ons preferable to A vignon? .Why 
should he have given an untruthful acconnt of 
the girl's change of life? The always intelligent 
reader "ill have little difficulty in answering 
these questions. 
les, the bushy-headed down-looking illll- 
keeper was savagely in love with Yalérie. I say 
savagely, because there "as somcthing morose 
and ferocious in the passion that devoured him. 
I He could not bear the girl to be out of his sight. 
I He chafed at the necessity of part.ing '" ith her, 
I even for a time, and for her benefit. He went 
I ! into silent rages at her caprice, her arrogance, 
hcr cool assumption of superiority over him- 
all ignorant as she was, and next door to a cast- 
away. He loathed and longed to rend in pieces 
I all whom she talked or laughed with, He was 
I madly jealous of her, mere child as she was. 
He had no bad designs to"ards V alérie. At 
this time he "as an honest man, and there was 
I not much harm about J. B. Con:.tant. He had 
I, ne\-er loved till now. His only hope was, that 
I the girl ,,"oulJ be grateful to him. His wish 
I was, that she should grow np a beautiful and 
I accomplished woman, and become his '" ife. 
II "I will leave this wretched little hole of a 
I ' I village," he said to himself in his day-dreams; 
"I have made some money and can borroVv 
more. I \\ ill take a grand hotel in Paris-in the 
English quarter in the Faubourg St. Honoré. 
Valérie will be my "ife. She will sit in the 
bureau, in a black satin robe, and with a gold 
chain round her neck, and keep the accounts. 
The waiters will bow and call her :Madame la 
Patronne. She will go to mass at St. Roch or 
the Madeleine. On Sunda) s, \\ e will dine here 
and there, go to St. Cloud, and to the Opera, and 
the theatres. Jean Baptiste, my boy, you shall 
be envied; )OU shall be happy." So he thought, 
and so he dreamed. Poor fellow! 
"If she shou1d be ungrateful!" a voice some- 
times "hispered to him. The fear of her in- 
gtatitucle ,vas a black phantom not to he conjured 
::t\íay. "She cannot, she will not," he would 
mutter. "If she refuses to love me, I will kill 
hcr." 
1Yhen Valérie had been six months at school, 
J. B. Const.ant undertook a journey to Lyons to 
see her. He fOUlld her more beautiftù than 
beforc. The schoolmistress said that her pro- 
gress was wonderful; that she had already 
, I Jistanced numy girls "ho had been in the esta- 
II blishment-and \)ith the advantages of previous 
edncation-three and foUl") ears; and that, if she 
"ere allowed to remain with her, two years in- 
!\ 



Cbul 


.kenL] 


ALl.. THE yr An RO{T
D. 


.A1'!"b 1 


li3 


tont (' I1rt '[ad..m{' du v. ""cr )> 1 I in"f't} a 'I :.... ). T at a 1d1 liE' U.J LI . irtJta- 
tl at .. ,veto!; UI rF '1t n Y I .i t...,1 (' "nl t'm t "d 0 w. 'T L pro- 
".mld be .L .. ';..lltly g-ra(' "II ..J' ..\1 I....... 'Ia "ti n. :-<. c "lJ 
"w(' 1. .. , tI at 
of the lÍl.Jm !I of ,III r III \\ I u... '1 :. I
 I her 4 h1ra"t r". unildpr nn \ ,+1 tl 1\1 )r 
for here lu('.lion, hu
 'I. ..u... II 
lhl.n .cr
 of her n'\t i \ plr '" I!> ""m J. b
 - t vc 
I 
el)rnfully l"f'plirJ, .. I ..' II \\h"\t I U. ,anJ her a p. port and L liHet; . I +1 hie 
I 1. m nl t his Yale ri,.." : \\o'lld hun.' no ditliculiy in obtaining lIl}ltJ)- 
::5he .eft I.
 ons wlwn sl)" \\, (n tll ft VI rno of Uk.it 
 a en ant in to" n "r count'") G n- 
('i-rhtcr)}. This \\, 3 in 1 Q ". ('on lant \\ "'5 st.mt lnl'w 
hat in tF!I matt"r she had ri ht on 
fl Lrful t f h,.r c%LinA' b' ck to 
laroUllle 
 r t 11('.. s;de, '1d tI nt h could g ,in not! in" by 
a\\ hill'. H,. \\ ished ht-r to r. turn onh Ln(''' a1!> I break in!!' \\ jth hrr. He th IU h.. t\ at to 10 e 
his" if,', to ast und t bo". \\ ho had 1.'no\\ n h('r her \\ ,,
Id be de ,lh or madn s to him. He 
in her 1)0\' rty and her d"
rad..tion, and then I bu",gt>"lrd a n Joti, tion, a compromi e. 'alt:rie 
quit tI)e p:acC' for e\er. Hi::. I) m \\as, that she \\as \\illing to negotiate-in thc 
}JII;t and 
sllOuld ,.nter a. nhool iu ran", or in England for Ion the 
ame ba 8 re cnt1y prOl)lI
ed by his 
another )c.lr or fifteen month",-not as a pupil, Il\fajcst) the Emperor of all the Ru ia when 
but as a boarùer-and tho + she should tf- n makc thc great l)o\\ers remonstr'\ted \\itb him ou his 
him happ
. He U1l1ulded thi
 scheme to her, in I flagrant yiolations of the treaties of 1815, and 
the parlour of the :<ehool, on the day when he his atrocious treatment of th(' Poles. The 
\\eut to fetch hrr away. Ht; mowed his loye, autocrat, if I rcmember right (fur I am no 
and said, "it h a smile, that it was pure and politician), e"{pressed his benevolent ,,"illingnc's 
honourahl('. to "show clemency" to the Poles, .. after the 
The 
irllau!:"hed at him. "What a fairy tale!" insurrectionary bands had been dispersed." 80 I 
she cried. .. Hr'aut) and the Bed'St 0\ er again! Valerie arq-ucd. .. Grovel in the dust at my I 
Yes, mom,ieur, I am Beauty, and you are the feet," she implied. "Abandon all )our preten- I 
Beast, "ith your sleepy e)es, and your great sions, and th('n I may extend some · clemency 
black head lil..c a primeval forest. Ah! ) ou to you." The ne
otiati)n was concluded in 
thought a pretty g-rapc-\ine was gro,,-ing up for this \\ise: "hen J. B. Constant had told the 

'ou. Ah! )oU thought you had but to shale l\Iarouillais that Valérie was to be })Iaccd under 
the tre(', and the pear "ould fall into )our the protcction of a married s:..ter who leI t an 
mOllt h !" hotel in L
 ons, bc h'\d told a lie-but a \\ hite 
"Yalérit ,"theinnleeperhllmblyexpostuhted, one. There were exttflu tin
 circum anct: in 
.. I implore 
 ou not to speak in that moelillg his frauù. lIc reall) h d a . . 3t"r, and an. rri J 
spirit. Think of m)' deyotion, of my 10\ c." sister, who 1ept an hotel-but she liyed in Pari.., 
.. Ilnow nothiD
 about it," snerred Yakrie. and not in L) l,ns. She' hould go to 1'.n , and 
.." hat should I, II. school-girl of ei
hteeD, lnow li\-c a. year "ith thi Î::-trr, lladame Hm m 1- 
about de\ otion ! Love \\ as not taught in this haw,en, wife of a German, formerly of tLe pr0f4 0_ 
school. It was forbidden." sion of bootmaling, but liOW principally of certain 
A
il1, and with the eloquence" hich sincerit) si'Xtb-rate cstaminets on the :Boule. ard.., where 
alone can giye, and gÎ\-es, too, to the most tonguc- he smoled, dranl.. beer, and pla)ed emUe parties 
tied man, he prcssed his suit. of dominoes, while his" ife worl....d hard at home. 
"Don't be absurd," was Y aléric's reply, .. You She would go to :Madame llummelhausen, but a 
will bore me. I kno,," nothing of life )et. I \\ardrobe suitable to the positiIJu of a youn
 
haye only seen onc stupid prot"ineial to\\n, I lady brought up in affiuence \\as to be IrO\ided 
am tired of schools, whether as pupil or board('r. for her, nnd she \\ as to he completely her 0\\ n 
I hat"e had enoudi of books, and want to see the mi"trr"". A <;trange treaiy, of a vu
ty! \\ here 
W'orld. I must be free and indeprndf'llt. I don't one of the eontractin
 partie., had all, and tIle 
"ant to tie myself for life to a stupid old man other nothing, and whcrr the pauper dictaf."d 
\\ it h a head lile a gri
l) hear. Do you \\ ish to terms to the C8}Jitalist ! And yet such 
ruin my career?" tre"\ties arc registered b} the bundle in Loyr's 
"Your career," rcpeai.ed Cou "ant, in !!orro,,-- chancery. Constant signed all the pro' 1
, 
ful surpri:o:e. "Yalérie, "hat "auld your e'\reer no;, in this i" ue he would l1,\ye s
znfd aWl) 1 s 
ha\ e been but for me: Ah! do not be lm- la t crust, hi-. libcrtr, hi life. There was no 
gntcful." need for Y al( rie to return yrt awhile to 
"Do not exaggerate) onr claims to my grati- \Iarouille. She was 110t so yery anxions to see 
tude. It appcars )OU had your own purpose to her aunt ß"!ain. There are hands! me and '\TeU- 
sene, in educating me. \011 m rely picked np 
tocked shops in Lpns, and thc e"tpenditure of 
\\ hat hnd be n abandoned. The next pm ,er-by !':ome fifteen hundred francs soon fun.. 
hed 
mi
ht haye done the same, and not have been a 'Iademoisdle ,- .\Icric Sablon with the artieies of 
villa"" publican. '[en are not 0 blind as you wearing- apparel she required for the m .ment. 
take thr111 to be. Somebody would have beLn .." hcn I wan more dre
 ," she lid to her 
sure to hat'e discoy('red the pr1-rlon thc dung- <;Iaye, e,lml
, · I ,,-w write, and yuu will open 
hill, sooner or later." a crellit fur me mih _ a1dolmC '\That do . uU call 
f;o s)w r(''\''oneJ "ith U IIf 1 I 10' of an hlr-Ilumm( 18 n-(. I D01Il d Yi lh! 
ungrateful heart. There w,:) nlJ mO\lng or Asforjcwdle
,thercwtllbcLmecnoughtothllik: 



l
t 


[March 19, 18M.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


about that, afterwards. That gold cross :rou were 
ridiculous enough to buy me yesterday, I shall 
I I I not "'ear. It is absurd. J e ne suis pas vouée 
à In Vierge, moi!" 
The innkeeper uttered a low moan of rage, 
I disappointment, wounded Jove. 
I "I thought rou would have admired it, 
i Yalérie," 
" Aud I don't. Take me to the Pahis Royal, 
and I will talk to vou about ornaments. How 
I long to see that Palais ROJa!! These Lyons 
goldsmiths are barbarians." 
He had taken a phce for her in the coupé 
of the dilig-cnce to Paris, aud was bidding her 
farewell. He looked at her with gloomy, greedy 
eves. 
. " Alt! bak!" she cried; "one would think 
you werc the wolf, and I Little Red Riding 
'I Hood. Is it for my pot of butter that you make 
. , ' 1 those great eyes, monsienr! .What large e
'es 
you have, grandmamma !" 
Constant abandoned further conflict. "I am 
I I ready to accompany you to the coach-office," he 
s::tid. with dolorous meekness. 
"There is a good little wolf. You'll make 
Little Red Riding Hood quite fond of
-ou if you 
go on in that way. 
Je pourrais m'amouradler, 
J e pourrais m'amouracher, 
Je pourrais m'amouracher, 
D'un riche, riche, riche, très riche richard. 
,I Do you know the chanson? The master dIdn't 
I teach it me. The girls used to sing it in the dor- 
mitory under the bed-clothes. All! we learn a 
great deal at school." 
"I am ready, Y aléric." 
I : I "And I too. It is agreed upon, n'est-ce pas, 
that you leave me in peace for six months ?" 
"For six months I will not trouble 
'-ou. I 
will not even write to you if you are averse to 
receiving- communications from me. 'What I 
" have to ;ay shall be said through my sister." 
, "N 0; that looks like surveillance. "r rite to 
j I me: it will amuse me." 
I A gleam of passionate satisfaction shot across 
I ' Constant's face. 
"I will -m-ite," he said, his heart palpitating". 
I : "But no long letters. K 0 love, or nonsense 
of that kind. Don't bore me. Now I am ready. 
Nay, perhaps you would like to kiss my hand.'; 
" I She held out her hand to him as she spoke. 
She had ne.er granted him th:lt slight favour 
beforc. It \'; as not a small hand. She was a 
grandiose woman; but it was .ery white, and 
i' soft, and plump. ",Vho to look upon it could 
I' have thought that it had dra",n country wine for 
II bumpkins and stable-boys, or wielded a pitch- 
fork to toss stable-litter about? 
! He accompanied her to the coach-office, put 
I I her in her seat, wrapped her up in warm sha",l.5 
and rugs, IJlaced a basket full of dainties and 
wine by her side, aud would have pressed if not 
kissed her hand once more, even in the open 
I, coach-yard, but that sbe said sharply: 
I ' <<Enough of that! You nearly bit my hand 
II 


just now, besides all but wrenching it from the 
wrist. You are too affectionate, mon homme. 
Good-by, and go back as fast as ever you can to 
that stupid old 1Iarouille-Ie-Gency. Adieu t 
Love for you, life for me!" And the diligence 
clattered and rumbled ::m.ay Paris ward, and Jeau 
Baptiste Constant W::tS left desolatc. 
He could not make up his mind to return to 
the village. He wandered about Lyons for two 
whole days. He called again on Madame du 
Verger, aaking her futile questions. The school- 
mistress knew well enough\'; hat ailed him. He 
had been a good customer, and she s)'ll1pathised 
with him. 'fhe girl had left some inconsiderable 
fal-Ials behind her-a gauze scarf, a pair or two 
of gloves, a }Jiece of music. These were given 
to him, and he treasured them with burning 
avidity, Then he went to the theatre, and tried 
to listen to an opera; but the mocking voice of 
Valérie rose high above the bra
'ing and tinkling 
of trumpet and cymbal, and the flourishes of the 
singers, He weut from café to café, and drank 
deep-which was not his custom; but Valérie's 
scoruful accents ''"ere audible, to him, above the 
clattering of the dominoes, the jangling of the 
coffee-cups, the cries of "Trois, six !" " A qui la 
pose 1" and the shrill "Y'lh monsieur!" of tlw 
waiters. Valérie's face "as in the cup, and 
Valérie's form wreathed itself out from the 
thready vapour of the cigars. At last he went 
back to :Mal'ouille, to see after the wants of 
the billiard players, and to scold the postilions 
and stable-boys. But, two da
-s after his retum, 
he "ent to Avignon, and instructed the same 
notary of whom he had purchased the good ",ill 
of the Lilies of France, to advertise the Lilies 
again for immediate disposal. 
It was a month before any rea-sonable offer 
was made. At last a customer was foulH1, 
in the person of an Avignon linendraprr, 
who thonght that country air would do him 
good. After much haggling, he agreed to give 
forty thousand francs for the premises and good 
will-a considerable ad"ance on the sum Con- 
stant ]lad paid for them; but., by his energy and 
perseverance, he had much improved the pro- 
perty. He had written to his sister to inform 
her of his approaching departure, but begged 
her to keep it, for a while, a secret from Yalérie. 
He wished to be in Paris without the girl's 
knowledge. His successor in the post-office 
promised, in case any letters arrived for bim 
with the Paris postmark, to re-direct them to 
him. Then he took his place in the diligence, 
and, in two days' time, found himself in the 
French capital. 
.When be arrived in Paris he wrote to llis 
sister, telling her to meet him at an obscure 
furnished lodgings in the Marais. The HUn
- 
melhausens lived in the Rue St. Lazare, in one 
of the noisiest, liveliest quarters of the brawling 
capital. Maðamc Hummelhausen came, and 
brought her budget of ne"-s ",ith her. Yalérie 
"as more beautiful than ever. She had engaged 
a music-ma
ter. She sang divinely. She was 


II 



Char 8 DIck ..11.] 


ALL THE YF AR TI01:XD. 


[1I&r\,... tI, I 
 .] ] 25 


pa.. .ttdy fond of thc 01 ra and tl thLatr ;:K 0; J must go '" her.: I c..n gi\ eOI'd. ir 'ad 
but IlI'r tempcr W...L5 Ü"'ul J,Qrtable A\nd I for of rccehing thcm:' 
one" ill not Imt up" ith it," qu
 th 
Iadame f'he unfolded hpr pl..ns. She JJad l""'lu -_ 
Ilu uclhau"en. Jean .ua J tiste, my brother, )OU quaintance, tlJrougb the IIummelh..u ð
 , VI 
.arL .1 bimple. Turn thi rrirl out of doors if s. one Durufl. e, '" ho had a kind of pl"Í\atl th re 
,,,on t have )OU, and nukc th hap pines of. ome for dram
tie aspirants at the Bati_n'111e :o.hf' 
110n(,'3t woman who c tCDl".:r does not tum thc \\ Luld pa) him a prcmium-the fund"l, of cour , 
"qrld top"y-tur\'y, and who kno\\s how to lo\.c to be furni
hcd by M. Constant-and would 
and obc
 a gOQd kind man." practise among hi
 pupils for a few munth 
J. B. Constant "as far too milch in lo\c to bec Then Duruflee would gct ber, for a c",mlili. ""TI, 
the forer of thi.. ar"'ument. lic implored his all cn
agement at one of th,. pett) lloulMard 
' I sistcr to "ait uutil thc npÍ1ation of thc stipu- thC.Ltres. Thencp to the Gaîté, thencf' to the 
bted Ì\\ehe months-Ol' at le-st of si"i, "hen he Porte S1. 'Iartin, tl""nce to tbe 'fhl.1tre-l'rançai 
"ould s e Valeric, and come to somc definitc J. B. Constant under')tood, and shuddered, but 
understanding \\ ith Jler. 
[Lanwhilp, faithful to he did not demur. 
hi., promise of lea\ Í1w Valeric in peace, he \\ aited " And after that ?" he asled. 
p.ltiently for the post from.\ \ igTIon to bring him " Aftcr that, we shall sef'," she replird; ""\fter 
that lon
-cxpcetcd re-dirf'cted letter "ith the that, if )OU are vcI'), \er) quiet, and well be- 
l) .iris postmark. .But it ne\'er came. At hi
 havcd, the ice ma) melt. JiO\\ man
 ) cars 
instig.ltion, 'ladame Hummelhausen gently did the bon homme Jacob wait fur Laban's 
I I hinted to Y alerie th
t it might be as \\ ell to daughter?" 
\\ rite a linc to her brother. "1'\\ as the first inl.ling of a promise she h d 
" '\. quoi bon?" retorted thc girl. U That my e\"er given him. It thrc\\ him into an e('
tasy of 
Jetter should tra\'el fh e hundrcd leagues back- jt y. lIe agreed to all she a::.ked. :\Jadame 
\\ ards and forwards to' no purpose? Do you Hummclhausen was glad to be rid of her trouble- 
think T am an idiot? Thc great dolt is here. 
ome charge, but said littlc to encouragc her bro- 
Yes; )[onsieur Jean Baptiste Constant bas been tber's hopes. "She has no heart, not an atom," 
prowling about Pari:. these two months, engaged she persisted. J. B. Constant \\ ould not listen to 
in thc highly dignitìed occupation of playing his sister. He would not have lent an ear, w}lere I I 
tbc ,.P) 0' er a ).oung girl. Since \\ hen have) ou Yalcrie \\ as concerncd, to Solomon, or to Kathan 
l.ept 
pic:. in ) our f.unil)", madame? Doe
 
lon- the" i
e, or to the seven sapient men of Gotham. 
sieur Constant belong' to thc police? I ha\ e "\\ hat could tho:.e la'3t-named wiseacrt:s ba\ e 
l'au
ht sig-ht of him hundreds of times, on tbe done be)ond aà\ ising- him to 
o to s
a in a I 
Boule\ ard." in tbc Lu
embourg and Tuileries bowl? _\.nd was he not already l.mnched upon 
gardcn
, at thc theatrc5, at church c, en. \\ hat the ocean in a skiff quite as frail? 
doc... hc mean by this insolence, in dogging my Yalerie chose to ha\ e apartments of her OWI1, II 
foot
teps ? " by docs hc not come here, like at thc Bati
olles, elose to 
I. Duruflée's private 
an honcst man, and tell me '" Int he \\ ants?" theatre. This \\ orthy had been a chori::.ter at 
" He promi
ed to leave ) ou in peacc for six the Academic till hc lost his \ oice, "hen he 
months," pleaded .!\ladame lIummclhausen. turned chef dc claque, or head of a band of hired 
"Let him come now. I" ish to sce him. I applauders at the theatre. lIe lost his place 
ha\e :.omething to sa) to him." through ,enalit)-for tbere is a code of honour 
lIe "cnt to her, his heart bounding" ith the even among elaqueurs-being detected in tal..ing 
hopc that !"he had relented; tbat she would say mone)" from two riml actresses wbo were to 
to him, "Cunstant. I hm e tcased )OU long mal..c their début on the same night. The claque 
enough" I am changed. I am grateful. I am applauded both. The two aflirma1Ì\"e3 made a 
)onrs.' J
l1t, the nether millstone still held its negative: neither triumphed. The rivals were 
place in her breast. 
he rcceivcd him with the furious; the direction scandaliscd, and Durullce 
old mocJ.cQ, thf' old disdain. lIer inflexihilit). had his conge. .\iter such a Fontaincbleau (if 
had gotten a Parisian gloss upon it, and would to be kicked out can be cons dered an abdication) 
na, c been horrible, had 
he not lool..ed more there was clearly no Elba for the bani bed l>oteL- 
beautiful than cver. tate of the claque, but in the Hue de Jt:rllilalem. 
.. 1 am sicl.. of bcing a pen"ioncr," she said; lIe became affiliated to the police; then he 

'of being told that I ought to be grateful fur en ed tbc l'ribunal of Commerce as one of itJ 
thi::. anti for that. I" ant to be frce, and to earn bailiff::.; then he \\ ent on the Bour e, and, by 
111\ 0\\ n livelihood," 8.3::.iduous speculation for a fall, eontri\ ed to 
'
he had the hardihood to tell Jean Baptiste \\ in "ol11e ten thou
and francs of the ba.-..bt 
that she wished to go on the starre. "I have a mvney in the" orId. His dramatic propLD
ities 
mi:.Ûon for the dral ie carccr," shc qaid, \\ il h w re still strong within him, and he im cbted his 
lofty conceit. ".\nd pu should cntel' me a... a !millS in the org.misation of a Theâtrc de Jcun s 
studcnt of the CLn e 'natol'), as a 
inger, or a I Elè\es at the Batignolles He w..s \C1Y fat, pI)()(} 
danccr, or an actn-s; but that I abhor di"'ei- natured, clm"er, gro
s, hum()rou
 astute, a d :J. 
pliu(', and before a. \\ et k \\;.. O\"er should un- I"'onsummatc blackguard. Ilt still I..ept up h:.s 
doubtedl} bm: thc e ..) of c..e of the vrofec AI'S. I I"'vnne
ion with the PI' lecture. His insatiab'" 
Imagine boxing the c._.S of 
[on..:eur Cherubini! I lhi
t for aLsÏllthe m3dc him one of tho_ raJ 



Ii IQ
:l
18
] 
I 
II 
, I 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


monstrosities-a drunken Frenchman; but he 
was a bctter spy ,.hcn intoxicated than when 
sober. 
In the spring of 1
31, Va1erie, being then 
in her twenty-first J'ear, made her :first ap- 
pearance at the Folies Dramatiques. She came 
II out in some sanguinolent drama of the then 
I new romantic school. She represented 
ome 
I great wicked lady covered with guilt and dia- 
monds, and creat ed a furore. The" ickedness 
I she was enabled to portray with rare fidelity 
from her accurate observation of human nature. 
It was J. B. Constant who found the dia- 
monds. 'l'he money he had received from the 
sa1e of tlle inn at :Marouille "as all gone by this 
timc. He was taking up money at a Imndred 
per cent from the u
urers. He had borrowed 
from his sister all she could afford to lend, and 
more; but Valérie "anted diamonds, real dia- 
monds-she laughed paste to scom-and she had 
them. If she bad ordered J. B. Constant to forge 
the name of J\I. Jacques Lafitte to bills to the 
extent of five hundred thousand francs, with a 
certainty of the court of assizes, the pillory, and 
the galleys, in perpetuity, commencing from the 
very next day, he would have obeyed her. 
She was soon engaged at a handsome salary, 
at the Porte St. .l\Iartin. Her wish ,,-as at- 
tained. She was free and independent; but 
she did not offer to give back to J, B. Con- 
sL:'mt the money he bad spent on her educa- 
tion, or tbe diamonds he had lavished upon 
her, On tbe contrary, she ,,"anted more dia- 
monds from him, and she had them. J. B. Con- 
stant was living, in usurers' clutches, at the rate 
of fifty thousand francs a year, and his clothes 
were growing shabby, and he dined every da
 at 
a restaurant for thirty-two sous. 
Valérie pla
ed in a piece in which she had 
to wear a robe of flame-coloured satin, and to 
show a considerable amount of her legs. Paris 
was entranced. A sculptor modelled the legs, in 
wax, and they were exhibited, under a glass case, 
in the Galerie d'Orléans. Her bust was carved. 
Her portrait was lithographed, Béranger went 
to see her. His criticism "Was conclusive, but 
not complimentary. "Vous n'&tes pas Lisette," 
he murmured, and walked out of the box, The 
romancer, M. Honoré de Balzac, then beginning 
to make his way in literature, looked at her, long 
8nd anxiously, through his opera-glass. "She is a 
Cossack in IJetticoats," he said, "and will occupy 
Paris." 
Up to this time she seemed impregnable. Dia- 
monds, from other quarters than poor Constant, 
were laid at ller feet, She tool. them up and 
laughed in the face of the donors. She had a 
wonderful power of digestion. She took evcry- 
thing-songs, dedications, money, jewels, bou- 
quets, love-letters, compliments, and gave 
nothing in return, but scorn. She was a Bac- 
chante in cold blood. She ,.as Venús rising from 
the ice. 
At this time there was a great English dandy 
jn Paris, by the name of Blunt. The French had 


[Conducted by 


got it into their heads that he was" Sir François 
Blunt, Baronet;" but, tit1ed or untitled, they 
persisted in declaring him to be the wealthiest 
and most sumptuous of milords. He lived in 
great state, on a :first floor in the Rue de la 
Madeleine. He associated with all the English 
aristocracy resident in or visiting Paris. He 
pla
-ed high, at Frascati's and clse" here. He had 
his baignoires at the little theatres. He ga'\ e 
his dinners at V éfour's, or the Rocher de Can- 
calc; he gave his suppers at thc Café Anglais. 
He drove a four-in-hand-a vehicle the Parisians 
had never set eyes upon before-a cabriolet, a 
phaeton, a dog-cart - he drove an) thing you 
please. He was a capital French scholar, and a 
great favourite in women's society. He could 
ply the small-sword if challenged, and could hit 
the ace of hearts thrown up in the air, with a 
pistol-shot at :fifty paces. 
Blunt was a great plar-goer. He went to the 
Porte St. Martin to see the actress after whom 
all Paris was :flocking. It is not very difficult for 
an Englishman, who is cultivated and fashionable, 
and is supposed to be rich, to procure an intro- 
duction to a French actress. He was ill a short 
time pennitted to make his obeisance to Valé1.ie. 
There was a quiet mocking manner about him, a 
polished impertinence, which at first pleased bel' 
infinitelv. 
" At 
ll events," she said, with an engaging 
candour to Constant, in one of the rare audiences 
she now granted him in the forenoon, and in her 
boudoir, "he is neither imbecile, li1..e the 
'OUllg 
:Frenchmen who buzz about me, nor ridiculous, 
like the English dandies. If he is insolent, he is 
witty. If he can gÏ\ e sharp stabs, he can take 
them. He pleases me, ce Sir Blunt." 
She believed in the stories of his rank and 
wealth, although she often said that it mattered 
little to her whether the man she chose to favour 
was a prince or a rag-picker. She determined, 
on K ew Y ear's Da
", 1832, to give a grand supper 
in a gorgeous new suite of apartments she had 
taken in the Chaus.seé d' Antin. Half the fashion- 
able roués and actresses in Paris", ere to 'be there. 
She was good enough to ask Constant to come- 
and also to condescend to borrow from him a 
thousand francs towards tþe expenses of the 
entertainment. Constant gave her the moner, 
and found himself at four in the afternoon of the 
day on which the party ,,-as to come ofi', ,\ itl1 
e
actly t",entr-seven francs in his pocket. He 
was proceeding to dine at his usual thirtj-two 
sous restaurant in the Rue de l' Ancienne Comé- 
die, when he was arrested on two bills of 
exchm1g'e for ten thousand francs each, held by 
one X abal Pi
érifort, a Jew, and was carried off 
to a debtors' prison. 
Soon other judgmcnts crowded in upon him, 
and he found himself detaincd for a total of sixty 
thousand francs. As a foreigner, he was liable 
to lie in prison for a long term of rears, his 
Cleditc
:s being merely bound to pay a sum of 
ninepence-ha1fpcnny per diem for Lis mainte- 
nance; but fortunately he had not been incar- 



CL .J 1J 


ALL 1'111: YEAR nOr:XD. 


b 1 ,1 


1..7 


e . ted a mon h beft-.e he f .lnd suCt..11". Thr Miladi .lllULt'!;, hone D .n ,,&0 S( l 0\ r. 
I HummelL us;.. who w<< re "arthy pet-pIe ".;mld The hone) moon \'oaner. bpeedJy foll( '" d oy tue 
gladl) Ia.ne "4 
ccute
" the... ehL..-that j, to be<< ,wax-moon, and th...t, Ly tl "'8li., J-\t'4 il- 
), \\oul
 h. e <;old tI, ir hotel atod., cocl.. wl..od-moon. Valerie d
seO\ered that r 1 had 
d bllrrel-t,-. hdp 1.Iu lr ')uJ: ri.Jg I..insman, but wedded a gentleman with no mone), d who 
thf' C \US 110 n .d for th:. \n uncle of the wa.. o'\"er head and edes in debt. Blunt' 'd her 
C t<l h tlpcn d tl) die a.t Ii :110, lw\ ing I 1 . tlinh, and th...t it "as ru,('1 I to tJ 
 of 
1111 inherit.lllct' 'If t"o hundr..d tJwu::..wd frauc:...1 going to London. The., cro sed frrm Dov to 
The UbC of thi 1'0.. her lil.., lac left to Ill
 U::.tcnd, and thence went to Brusse ,'W re.', 
\\ife, "h" \V ,'; ej...hb-h\ y ars of a!!f', t.ud I Valt:r
e' Paris pre tig being thicL.. upon b r, 
bedridden. At h r de Ith, a hundred thous.w.d. she easily obtaine I an en
ft.gem nt. Thb.. 
frdUf'S \\ere to come to Jean .Dapti<;t and fifty in the spring of l....j
. By Dr ïtber in the 
tI\Ousand tl.. the Humm Ihau""n. Thl pri
')ner '3ame 
enr, they had separated. Her acC1' at! ns 
found 110 difficult
. ill selling hiD r<< \ Cr.,ioll for a I inst her husband were no fict on:!. lIe ul 
hundred and tWf'nty thou
and franc. He paid insulted, outrn_ d, beaten, her. He had liv( 1 
the usurers in full, and left the whitf'wa hed I in luxury upon her earnings. She 
ve birth in 
wall", comparativriJ" a rich man. I Hru is, and at Cbrbtmas-time in this same y<< r 
On t hp day of his enlar
emf'nt, and while he '32, to a child, a girl, \\ ho was christened LIh 
was treating to a vin d'honneur 
me of the b;)' the Eu
lisb chaplain re:tidcnt Ì11 the TIeL' 
gentl man captives in the e. tahlishment, one of capital. Th'" ddyafter the performance of t' 
the turnke
., brought him a copy of the 1'-ta.ional, ceremony, Blunt deberted hi
 \\-ilc, but tool.. 11-5 
asking him if he would like to look at it. The I child and his child's nUf1:le with hi'I1, He had 
ex-innl..eept'r's eye fell on a paragraþh, in which made an acquaintance in .Brussel::o at tub time, I I 
it \\-dB stat d among the .FcÚb Diven that one of who lent him money, and taIled to him of br.ulÏ..Jut 
the "illustrations dramat iquM," or theatrical I prospeds, but "hose name he kept secret fDm 
celcbritiLs of the da;)', "la Lelle MddemoÜ..clle -'1ihdi. The acquaintance accompanied him to 
Valerie," had suddelù) brol..en her enga,;ement I England, and there became his '\"alct de ehambre. 
with the ùiree'ion of the Porte 
t. -'lartin, and And this ,alet's name was Jean Baptiste Con- 
"inged her way to the" urullloub ' bnd of Albion, stant, Swiss by birth. 
\,here she w \j "Ì11ces antl
" to be united in ...\.fter her abandonment by her legitimate pro- 
marriage to the IIonouraulc 
ir frdncis Blunt, tector, the C.lreer of .lladame Valerie lilunt was 
Baronet, and member of the L" pþer Ch.unber. rather more 'Varied than reputable. She did not 
Je,m Baptbte Cun
tant ru
hed out of prison to bewail the 10 5 of her iutaut much. :::'be was 
his sister. lie had written to Y dlcrie halt a doæn mure in a rage with the infdut's papa. 
he 
times since his arrest, not ab1..ing tor money, but I went back to Paris, and purged her conte .pt 
craving a \Vord of s) mpathy. 
he hlld not sent to\\ ards the direction of the Porte ::;1. :Yartin 
him one. His devotion to her "as so servùc, by payment of ë:t round sum of mone) which 
so houndlil..e, that he had never wunnured. somcbody paid for her. Sowebody had Ix. .De 
Madame liummelhausen had no good news to necessary now; and whcn she grew tirLd d 
tell him. 'l'he pmagmph in the 
LltjOUal was somebody, she changed sOlUebod
. But, al- 
true. At least she had "\ alérie's word for its though her beauty v.
 now in its ze.nith, her 
genuinene s. The girl Lad written her a cool Pl"t'stÜ:æ as an actre
s was gone. 
ome other 
letter from Dover, sa
ing that she hlld been "iHw.tration dramatique," who bho\Vetl more (,f I , 
married there, and that she was 110W ,)Waw .DIunt. her legs, worc a grass-green tunic, and had more 
"Â53 to COllStant," she weut aD, ")OU wi1l5ay diamonds than she, \\..IS comukiug l'aris w:th 
to him that I aUl wry sorry for him, but that he a.Jmiration. "I will never sink to the secc...ù- 
bored me." This w..s his dismis
al: thi:! his rate," said Valérie. (, I a n tired of men d I , 
recompense for all he had done to train and \Yomen. Let u... see what can be ILa.de ou" d 
nurture this beautiful devil. Sht' had married ù.or
:' 
another In m. She was sorry for Constant; but '-lddamf' Hummelhanscn and her husb
"".J, 
he bOl'ed her; he made her 
awn; she needed going, one summer ni
llt, in l
J-i, to Franc'"lni's 
amusement, and the other man could amuse her. Cirens, saw Yaleric, in a riding-habit and a m"L",i 
There was an end of the idyll. hat, c1.l"&eolirg on a beautiful brown lUare i.l t'" 
Constant said not hing-, but asled 3fadnme midst of the tan-carpeted ring. Stout ,)[or. . UI 
Hummelhausen to gi\ e hIm the letter. "I shall I Adolphe Franconi followed her obsequiolli>ly, hot 
go to En:rland," he saiù. so much as 'entnrillg to crack his" hip. .Yon- 
"'1'(' kill Sir Kunt?" asked hIS 
i
ter, terrified. sicur _\.nriol, the elm\ n, suspended his jokes during 
" Weare not in the middle 
es. Lucrèce her performane. 
 e \\ as doing the hau t;colt" 
Borgilo is all 'Very "ell on the stage, but will Valérie of the Circus, had be('omc a 
rM
f'r C I - 
I not do in private liff' I have been in EJlgland brity than Valérie ofthe Porte St. Marhll.. 
l 
before. I have served in noble families. I have was the rage. \
 hen she cØme to En d In th. 
the most flattering testimonials. 1 will serve in summer of '35, and to \. tley's Ib t
, Mr. 
noble famil:es 
in. Good-by, my good sistcr. Ducrow 
ladly paid her thirty guiD "lS a \ k 
Perhaps f")me d
\ I shall bave the h "h honour salary. She came 3!?:un in '<JÎ at high r tt" 
to stand beù.iud Mliadi Blunt's chair. ' but she always wantt.d money, and more mODer 



-II 


12S (:\larch 19,1864.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUXD. 


[Conductcd by 


face rcturns to it<: old fairness, and aU trace of 
the influence of sun and wind will vanish, unless 
there have been formed freckles, which some- 
times are permanent. It used to be said that these 
freckles, to which the fairest skillS are the most 
liable, were deposits of "fuliginous vapour" from 
the blood-another coal theory; and an old school 
of ph) sicians represented them also as deposits 
of the oily or bilious part of fluids left after the 
evaporation of the more watery parts. In fact, 
however, they are little mysteries, common and 
hannlesa as they are. Generally they disappear 
with the summer, and their disappearance is 
often attributed to the washes and messes of 
quacks, who have no more IJOwer to make or 
unmake them than they would have to wash out 
the man in the moon, if he were there. 
These obvious transitory influences, then, of 
light and exposure on the skin, commonly exag- 
gerated even as signs of yariation in t he general 
'THERE is a large sense in which it may be said health of the body, hm.e little or nothing to do 
that the world about him is the making of a man. with the colours of the different races of men. 
For, the world about him, as a revelation of The Spaniards in South America who have not 
Almighty power, is a daily teacher, and guides by intermarriage with the Indians formed a dis- 
man himself to the full possession ofwhat'IJOv.ers tinct race of Mestizos, are in skin and feature 
he was made capable of ,yielding. 
Ian is shaped, Spaniards still. Those near the equator in hot 
also, physically and mentally, by influences of cli- and damp Gu)"aquil, have even a hirer and 
mate and food to a remarkable degree, and the clearer complexion than the Spanial"ds in their 
study of these various shaping influences of the native country, and blue eyes and fair hair are 
world he lives in, has given rise to many curious common among the women. In Chili, too, the 
and interesting speculations. .Why, for example, Spaniards are white and of a fresher colour than 
is the negro as black as a coal? Nobody knows. in their own country. The Mexicans are much 
Foissac ascribes his colour to the predominance darker than the abo
"igincs of the hottest parts 
of carbon in his vegetable diet. But there is as of South America, the Guiac:ls are much lighter 
much carbon in the blubber caten by the Esqui- than the Indians round about them. Blue e)'es, 
maux. Berthold ascribed the browning of thc fair skin, and a red beard, characterise a distinct 
comple
ion in hot countries, to the cxcess of race among the Bcrbers of North Africa, Among 
carbon that, in spite of diminished activity of the the N ubians, Burckhardt recognised the descen- 
lungs, and increased activity of the liver, circu- dants of the Bosnian soldiers sent by Sultan 
lated in the blood, and, with an increased per- Selim, who settled there in the )-ear fourteen 
spiration, was deposited under the skin. Coal is 'twenty. On plantations in a region where the 
carbon, so that, according" to these th
ories, we extinct aborigines were a dusky red, and the 
are browned or blackened by a sort of coal forma- race now in possession has remained for genera- 
tion. Heat will not do it aU. The blackest tions white, the generations of the working 
peoples are not found under the equator. The negroes continue to be as black as their fore- 
blackest of the Pol)'nesians are in the Y ulcan, fathers were in Africa. 
and the lig-htest in the Coral, Islands. The To a considerable extent the body adapts itself 
I people of Van Dieman's Land are darker than to the requirements of each climate. Volney 
the New Hollanders who live nearer to the equa- went so far in saying that clim:lte determines 
tor. There are very black tribes on the east and physiognomy as to see in the negro a face acted 
I west coast of Africa; several hundred miles in- upon by sunlight and heat, with overhanging 
land they are lighter; but the sea has nothing to eyebrows, half-closed eyelids, raised cheeks, and 
do with it, for in the central part, on the same projecting jaws: while another writer, :Mr. Stall- 
line, they are quite black. Race, not climate, hope Smith, has, upon the same principle, made 
determines colour, There is a certain limited Jack Frost answerable for the short, broad, 
and transitory influence of light on the white harsh-featured face of.the Tatar, by contracting 
skin. A fair-skinned child taken from town to his eyebrows and e)elids, raising his cheeks, and 
the sea-side may have its face browned in a single compelling him to keep his mouth shut as much 
day, and will in a mouth develop much un" onted as possible. Certain it is that the native Peru- 
colour under the constant influence of strong yiaII, living at heights of from seven thousand to 
light and the stimulus of the fresh breezes that fifteen thousa.nd feet above the level of the sea, 
quicken circulation at the surface. The child becomes broad chested by need of a larger 
goes home to town, where its cheeks are less development of lung. A certain quantity of 
, sUllied and le5s blo" n upon, there is no longer oxygen the blood requires from the air, and more 
L:p:eial stimulus to fetch blood tc tbe s 
 th e . room is U :tcd _t
akc in a sufficient bulk of !be 


This was the lady who was good enough to 
patronise the Hôtel Rataplan. Constant had 
found her thcre, and walking straight up to hcr 
room, had looked at her, She would have struck 
him, but there was something in his look that 
cowed her. He was 110 longer humble; no 
longer her slave. 
She held out her hand, 
"Let us sign a treaty. AlIons! Let us be 
friends !" 
So, without pens or paper, and on the basis of 
this protocol, the treaty was signed, and they 
were friends, after a fasbion. And now that I 
bave kept :Monsieur J. B. Constant so long with 
his hand on the handle of the She-\Volf's door, 
he may surely turn it, and go in. 


VARIETIES OF :l\1EN. 



Charle8 DlCkeDL] 


.\LL TIlE YE
\l:' ltOCXI>. 


roo 1 11, I 


1 J 


more rarefied air. Th re c n be no doubt, a] '>, I true Yanke Ims I....., mrtal than tl .. f till 
that light and heat affert, h} a certa;n f'xtent, the J:urop an j hi" (')elids arc ;d a1:,o tû be rter. 
grow
h of men as of phnt. It i
 sa;d to be a H has b en "aid, t 0, th^. the beef and mu ton 
fact that not only the P rmiam!, but the peopl(") of the Unit'd 
tat , shoW's, by duect of tl,vour 
generally, of the crldr'l" clil'1atl", haH" larrer and nutriti n, as ')mpar d with that of LUrOl'e, 
heads than those who li\e in th(" IlI}t countrie,. the Ie s fa\'oura'-lle iufh- Dee of the caÌmaLe upon 
Rut, as for the effert of light and heat on st^ture, animallifr In XC\V fo:outh \\ ",l( 
 the infh ("Dce 
there is so much room for doubt, that flatl) oppo- of climate tendo tv n ^ke tl' children ùf Euro- 
site conclu5ions ha\ e been come to on the subject pans tall and ko.m, \\ hiJ"" at thl. CaIJè there is 
Zimmerman h
s argued from the size of the amon
 El1rope"1n coloni a t<..ndency to fat. 
Pata
onians and of thc ancient Germans, th.tt the " int erbottom assert"'d that le.ill peùple 'n ho 
highest stature belongs to the colder rrgiouo of are duc:l) become of a lighter colour up(}n A"ro\V- 
the temperatc zone, \\ hile Blumenbaeh thinls we iug fat. Howe\' cr that may be, there can be no 
find taller men as we approach the tropics. There doubt that the appearance and character of an 
is not h iug in eit her opinion. The short men of animal \\ ill be affert cd by the d( 
rc
 aud 
Ticrra del .Fuego live, ery near to. thc tall men of manner of its victu"lllin
. 'Yhen, in the ) ear 
Patagonia, and the short men of Lapland li,e sixteen'thirt)-one, Irishmen of Ulster and the 
very near to the tall Finns and S" edeo. In the south of Do\\ n were "rivcn into tbe fore:.t by tbe 
mattcr of stature, as of Cl,lour, descent mU:.t be English, thc pm erty of t hell" food in the" c ods 
considered to bave far more influence than climate. so altered t hem, that, being' found again at a later 
Among animals it is found that some grow smallt:r period, they were only five fect two inehe:t high, 
in warm, others in cold climatcs. big bellied, bandy lezged, open mout hed, and Ilad 
FlIt climate appears strongly to affect the rate projecting teeth. So the stunted .Bosjcsmen are 
of life in men and animals as in plants. Ke
ro Hottentots dri\"en by their enemies into a sterile 
children nUl about much earlier than Europedll country, and forced to abide there. "'hen thcy 
children. The children of the natives of 
 ub. fail in the cha...e, they will eat roots, ant " locusts, 
hiwa swim alone in the water whcn they arc snales, and lizards j but those of them \\"ho li\'e 
scarcely a year old. In Tahiti they often can on the Zuga River, änd do not suffer from \\ant, 
swim before they can nm. The precocit
 of the instead of being stunted brutish men, are stroU!
 
Zuramatas in Guiana is found also among the and well made. The :.mall and wretched prople 
white Creoles in the' r cst Indies, and in the chil- of'lïerra del Fuego, whose 'n ild rocly coast c\ en 
dren born in Brazil. 'Ve hear of a negress who had obstructs free exercisf" of their limbs upon it, 
two hundred descendants about her, and \'oe are pass the greater part of thcir lives in huts 
told that among the negroes it is not thought or boats, and have 1e
s crooked and thin from 
e-,:trnordinary to have a hundred grandchildren. disuse: '\\ hile, suifering- much from cold and 
.But this precocity is not due \\ holl) to impulse of hunger, they are in mind and body dwarfed. 
climate. The Jewish girls in Central Europe be- Yet they are apparently of the same race as the 
come mature much earlier, and age much earlier, stout Araucanians, thcir neighbours. I n 
U'\- 
than girls of the pcople they live among. tralia, too, tIle 10\\ cst t} pes of man are found in 
There is an unmistakable influcnce of climate a region deficient in '\\ater and wild animals, 
on the European race settled for some genera- where man is miserably fed. But of course that 
I tions in America. The American, compared with which is good food in one part of the world may 
the Englishman, is lean, though hf' g-ro'\'rs fat be bad food in another. The workman in Enzbud, 
after long sojourn in Europe. The Yirginian- on a damp cold winter's da)', thri,es on a beef. 
except the "cst Vir
inian-is cspecially tall, stcak and a pint of porter, '\\ hile the \\ orJ...man in 
slender, and lean j for, the cffcct of American Benguela can maintain his strength on a handful 
climate is more striling in the cenhal and of Manioc meal, and the Kru negro leeps up his 
southern than in the northern parts, and most..o condition in a life of muscular porter's '\\orl upon 
among the" orling cla
,)ls in the plains near the a diet wholly ve""etable, and '\\ hich consist"- chiefly 
sea. The 1\eW' Englander, of tbe same stock as of rice The Erglish, in tropical climates, do 
the Virginian, is shorter, and usuall) round-faced. not 
et on 0 '\\ ell as the Spaniards aud }Jortu- 
The genuine Yankee is clearly distinguished from guese, be,.. USL they scorn bean fritters, do not 
the Englishman by his sharp angular featurcs tale naturally to a \"egrtdble diet, and per-ist in 
and the t:xee
s of breadth between the anglcs of the free use of animal food and spirituous liqllors. 
his lower jaw, "hieh makes the 10\\ er part of the The Burnet.., and ot her wanderin; tribf"s of 
face 
qllare instead of 0\c.Ù.. The curl)" hair of Siberia, arc short and "eally throu!!"h li\'ing 
the European is apt to become straight and stiff I wholly on animal food: while the South-
ea 
in America, and to g-row stiffer and thicker \\ ith Islandcrs, \\ ho live on fish and ve
table , are 
each gC'ueration. The long necl... \\hieh usually for the m('st part intellectual and \\arlile. But, 
accompanies in caricatures the long straight hair as a general rule, part I) because of the nd\" .1ntn"''' 
of the Yanlee, indicates wcaler development of of bodily exerci ^ in the oontf'r's case fi her 
the glandular s)-stem, but t here is a great increase tribe are in bo(h and mind poorer th n tl1 
of nervous irritability. Some \\ riters h.we attri- tribcs that live chiefly on spoils of the c' e. 
buff"d this to a predominance of dry 'n(,"lt "inds, This appf"ars vcry di tinctly in Indial of the 
others to the use of spirits. The voice of the same r.lCf" living e"" t and 'nest of tbe Hncl..y 



ALL THE YEAR r..OU:XD. 


[Conùucted by 


130 pIJ. ch 19, 1864.] 


}Ioulltains. As a rule the diet of the worling 
rlasses in France i
, as much by traditional u5age 
r" for "ant of means, less nourishing than it 
should be; and t hrcc times sincp 17"9, when it 
was five fret one for infantry, and five feet three 
f')r C<lvallJ, it has becn found necC'<:sary to lower 
1 he standard for admission into the French army. 
Wllere men live simply as animals of a high
r 
0"-'1,,1', the individuals of a tribe resemble each 
other a::. animals do, Among barbarous nations, 
f'lYS Humboldt, "e find a tribal rather than an 
individual ph
 siognomy. No varicties of in- 
tcllectual development, r.or of various methods of 
life, stamp thc face with varieties of character. THE BOY AXD THE RIKG. 
Thus the slave-dealer in Upper EgJ1 Jt never asks FAIr. chance held fast is merit. 
for the individual character of a slave. He only 
asks where he was born, bis character being that 
of his tribe. Several writers assert that the 
cultivated negro, without admixture of white 
blood, acquires somcthing of the physiognomJ 
of Europe, and that in a generation or two 
there is perceptible change in the formation of 
the skull, and of the nose and lips. De Salles 
remarks that all uncultured people have a 
comparatively lar!Se mouth and thick lips. Civi- 
lisation bas moditied noticeably the German type. 
High stature, light or red !tail', blue eres, and 
clear comple-x.ion, arc no longer the universal cha- 
racteristic of a German. In En;dand, at the 
beginning of the fifteenth century, dark eyes and 
hair were uncommon, and high cheek-bones were 
a character of the south as of the north. In 
the time of Henry the Eighth red hair pre- 
dominated. Auy gallery of old portraits will 
show that three centuries have done much in 
highly civilised countries to soften and modify 
the characteristic outline of the features. There 
was lcss brain space in the skull of an ancient, 
than there is in that of a modern Scot. 
But., where the thinh.in!S power is not much 
e't:ercised, the powers of the stomach to endure 
long fasts and digest the food of several days FRO
I time to time there is an angry out. 
in a few hours, are often developed to a wonder- burst m the House of Commons because the 
ful degree. The camel-drivers between Cairo mail brings word that there has been an expedi- 
and Suez fast during the thirty hours of the tion ag-ainst some refractory chief or king on the 
West Coast, and that valuable lives have been lost 
journey; but an Arab, who dines often on a in an action which is and must be without result. 
handful of dates, will sometimes be heard to 
Or now and again an English enthusiast arises, 
boast that he can eat a sheep at a meal. The who is going to regenerate the whole conti- 
Bedouin, wben travelling in the desert, takes as nent by the cultivation of cotton, and palm-oil, 
daily food two draughts of water, and two and ground-nuts; but the almost insuperable 
morsels of b::t1.ed flour and milk. But, when obstacles daunt" him and he retires, }mving ef- 
, meat is before him, aud he is not travelling, he feeted very little. 
can eat and digest as much as would satisfy six I lmew a native merchant on this coast, 
Europeans. A nativc Austr.11iau, attendant upon he had resided in England, and "as a man of 
Eyre, could consume an average of nine pounds great wealth and good standing. He died in 
of boiled meat daily. A Guarini will eat up a Africa, and as quite an exceptional favour I was 
I sman calf in a few hours. A strong young man im-ited to be present at the "custom," or last 
in Greenland eats daily for several months ten ceremony for the dead. At the time appointed 
or t,,-elve pounds of meat, with much biscuit. I entered a large room in which all his nearest 
On the other hand, an Arowake lives in the field relations were assembled. The women were at 
: I for three 'íeeks, or a month, on ten pounds of one end of the room sobbing and "ailing, 
II Cassava bread. As a general rule, power of long the men were standing or sitting round a table. 
,I fastill
, and excessively spare living, is associated A large arm-chair was placed upon this table, 
with a power of digesting, and a will to eat, and in it, dressed in his best, and seated upl'ight, 
enormous meals when they are to be kad. Set a I was the corpse of the dead merchant. All around 


I 
I 
II 


II 


little Bushman "\ího haJ sustained life for a fort- 
night upon salt and watcr, before a civilised 
Christmas dinner for tweh-e, and he "\íill eat up 
the whole of it; turkey, sausages, becf, bread, ve- 
gctablc
, puddin
, and millce.t'ies; eat it, digest 
it, and convert it into flesh. For, a Bushman 
or a Caffre, after a few days of such feeding, 
enlarges visibly in bulk; thus shO\"ing that the 
food of "hich tbe system had been stan-cd, has 
with extraordinary rapidity been digested, con- 
verted into blood, and used for the building up 
of the starvcd human frame. 


A certain kil1g 
Of Persia had a jewel in a ring. 
He sat it on the dome of Azuù hie-h: 
And, when they saw it flashing i
 the sky, 
l\Iade proclamation to 11Ìs royal troop, 
That who should send an arrow thro' tIle hoop 
That held the gem, should have the ring to We:lT. 
It happen'd that four hundred archers were 
In the killg's company about the king. 
Each took his aim, and shot, and miss'd the ring. 
A boy, at play upon the terraced roof 
Of a near building, bent his bow aloof 
At random, and behold! the morning breeze 
His little arrow caught, and bore with ease 
Right thro' the eire!et of the gem. 


The king, 
Well pleased, unto the boy assign'd the ring. 
Then the boy burnt his arrows and his bow. 
The king, astonish'd, said, "'Vby dost thou so? 
Seeing thy first shot bath had great success." 
He answer'd, "Lest my second make that less." 


FIGHTIKG IN 1\ESTERN AFRICA. 



.\LL TIlE YEAP.. I
OU
I>. 


l,l 


.J 


.1... '4.) ] .11 


WCl b ,d nnd 'n drank rnrl 
talk d of the d l.d nlan, tulJ of III ad\en'un s, 
his f ins and 1 );:,e hid tri"J.. in t r de, and his 
1101m liie; ar j l\;) t hf' drink I .....itrd them, sho.lts 
and lalJ
ht r t^ 1.. tl' pllr of till.. stud.v 
IT i
'll \Htb \\hirh thLY had comn1f'nC' d, and 
the voic..s of the" 0111 n ('r.. shri:' 'r and more 
pie Icing. In thp I1."J::.t of all, 
)rten afljured 
and a l pea: d to, sat the gha
ily aud motionk_s 
Ct.,11 . .\fte 1"\ ad... "heu It \\ 3S con i
ncd to 
the tOLih, tù('\(' \VRS \\ ith it a supply of tood to 
be rene\\"cd d.1iJv for t'l\che niUl1ths. 
This scene is Î,) pical of the superliei'll ci\ ili a- 
tion which we Im\"e iml,osrd uron a few of thf' 
lJatin le'l\ing tile hC1.rt of the peoplf" UIi- 
tonrJ.t J. 
}'or thrre hundred years \frir8 has had the 
cur",,: of being a !>1U\'e-produeing country-this i::. 
the c'>rps upon the tahle-and the eoa::.t t.I ibc8 
ha\ 
 learnt to com,:der this cun' a pri\ il..ge. 
Tile attitudc I)f England, there fore, of Idt c 
 I .1r"l, 
Wilh re
ard to the 
 la\ e tradp, has conslder'lbly 
affected our illtercour::.e \\ilh the nativcs. In- 
stA..ld of cneourag"in
, \\e stand bct\\ccn them 
and what thp.v com,lder legitimate traffic, and 
our pre\enti\c squadron is lool..ed upon by the 
Africdns with that rf 5pect \\ ithout affection) 
with '1\ hich the policeman is contemplated by 
the thief. "reoccupy the position of a foreig-II 
coa t-guard. enforcing protection on a country 
of "llIell the t;"0\ emment and the inhabitants 
desire fref' trade. 
Long ago \\ c ('I u..hcd down the palmy days 
of the !'la\ e trL\dc the davs \\ h('n De Sllza at 
"hJd.1h coulli n eeÏ\'e the' l)riuee de JoimilJe 
as hi gue..t. i\o second Don Pcdro Blanco 
of Gallinas can am'lSS treasures bv this un- 
holv traffic, and reI urn to :Europe to obtain 
cclèbrity undel" another name. But in the 
f )laee ot the fe\\ well-kno
n" barracoon:;" there 
las b"cn a 
i
anlic company on th" principle of 
" L;mited Liabilitv." Every creek and bavof 
e\ery ri\cr on theW coast has its depût, and "can 
furlll
h !>la\ es for any vessel \\ hich "ill attempt 
to elude the \'igilance of our squadron. The 
slave lrade has thus become a l..iud of gambling 
speculation, and has put an clreetu:ù stop to any 
leg-itimate tr.\de or true civiliSdtion. In affect- 
in'i:- the coast tribes it has alreeted the only 
tribes coming undcr our influencc, and it is ou 
thi::. account that aftcr two or three hundred 
) ears of Luropcan colonisation \\ e find our
d H.::' 
still in contact with savages. 
The Ing-lish settlemcnts on the coast are 
cOlhparati\:t,y unimpcrtallt: and the number of 
andcd men oceup
 ing the military stations 
"ould be ridiculously small were it not for the 
formidable police ä the sea "hieh supports 
thclll. 
till the l1.'lti\c tribrs seldom openly 
oppo e the '1\ hite n n; but they trick, an
 
cheat, and cajole him. If a \ cry fa\ ourable op- 
portunity occur, a. tre3ty is violated, the tr.ldels 
:lre roLbed and thrf'atellcd, and i.t is plainly sun 
by tho:,e on thc spot that there 15 a nccf'ssit v for 
action. But thc governor of a ::!tation oñ the 
C03:>t do ; n,t pllni h LItre nc' r" until comp lIed 
to do so by \ cry great prO\"Oe"ti011, a Id in 


1"1.1 r to 'Ire actual ue: y of:E h 
suLJ ",') Llr alii 
In LI 
 nd th,.. "ar is unpop 11 r; lLS cat Ie 
nems rf'lIlotf' eU01'''h, but the rt> u l . j!. .
t u' 
inappn 'ablt> 11 
.h.in'" neitl.er hI I ur J) 
"'aiu" It.,ur e' Ion ut, may be bn.n Lut tilt' 

re S.1f! ... Il: don't Lno\\' \\ h('ß t:. 
beaten. '1'1 V" III rise 8 in in a mont Ii I . a 
'l."ur, or \\ h; never a ne" ling mounts tl e 
'
t001U of tLe couutry. '{hey "ou L pay the 
fine you imp fI, arid they won't oL l.rve j Ie 
trlal1l8 th v ::'I..,n. Alld we send our bl. t men 
a.-a-fist tll 111, to be 
uot at \\Ith a L;"Wl "Lich 
Cù s/u r dol' 6. 
'1 b..:n is n kill!!'. say the Kil ,., of r.ll 'J, 
'1\ ho i
 chief lJf a PO\\ eri ul tnuc, y t I.. \\ þ- 
lal,'S, on ..he b ..h of a 
f(' t ri\cr, f y the 
G rc ,It GOll. :).'11 u. F -.lr se\ r'ral \ ears tillS I.. it !! 
i
n n,', ire..'il PJ, plunùers EUlt'1e au. dd :il 
Il
 ing hi de 
nd ridieul I tile' t..rea Lf a 
tiu. Thcll hp r !I a stel furl.. 3ud t. ..u; 
\\ ith "pl. (mal d Sl esp ct all ohI r of 1.1 e 

o\ernmellt of GOlllb,uu sent tl) ojtain redre s 
for the sulrere rs La....th, h ut rly di
n -lras 
the blocl...ade of hi
 port. The rc i no L. Ir fo 
it, and '1\ e lDU!,t submit But at I 'n th tl \r L::.t 
India. relil.I:! arrive, incre
::.ill
 the hnJ force:, 
and the ndul force is augll1cn+ d hv thrl arri\.J 
of a mal1-of-,,"ar in the Ui\er Glnil..ru. It; 
resolved to bind tht> Ki'\g of llurr. I 
 a'\d II' 
)Iarabout, to Lpep thf" pnace fur Ire ; 
repar.ltion for the past is not e\fn "%kl n d. 
At the mouth of the Gombaru Un. r &t nl.. 
Bor""rra, and t here, in the bf' _:nn' n
 of :l'ebru...y. 
any YWlr ill this centur.., W' LJ.d elp\en ('n 
panies of tlJe 
I
th al1d U!Jth "est India Re .i_ 
menh:, the Gombaru artihery, and one troop of 
J.'rench arttllery for the governor uf 11 e 
}'rench station on the Ui\er ::;.unahn, had al
o 
many grievance::! ag.lillst the King of 13urraèaloù, 
so he had offered to join us. 
This modc:
t force embarLed in the Swan, a 
vessel of two thousanù tons, her 
Iaje<;t
 'ò) ships 
)[argate and ll.1stings. anù five sailing tnl.n
- 
porl
. 
The Gombaru, at its mouth, is from four to 
fivf' miles broad, deep and mudd.\", and auouL' 
ing in sharL.s and alliA'ators. The bants arc 
densely woncled, but ill this part the siz(. of the 
trees is inconsiderable, aud one shore is co\ cred 
with bush or scrub. 
". e made our \\ ay slowly up the strcam; tbe 
heat was fearful, there was not a breath of air, 
thc dull muddy water flowed sil
lItly, \Ùthout a 
ri l )ple, 100kil1g li1..e oil in tl'e fierce sunli'Pht. 
T IC ouly Ii \ ill
 t hin
 "e saw w
,s now and '\in 
a crane stallJlll
 silent and 801:tary, or an alli- 
gator 
lipping lazily from thc banl...i
lto 
he riv. .. 
_\1 length the night fell, and \\lth It :t. till 'k 
greasy fo
 "hieh \,eUed c\l.rythinl;'. It i.. a 
A'n \t mi Ldke tf) "I'ml t1' J up tho 
e rivers ill 
'\ilinA' tran
1 rt;. The po\\ers tuat bc, thou...h 
of cour::.e the most ::''l:fciciou<; of all po.)siuJe 
powers, do not suiliciently e tim...t
 t n-, 'r 
likply to arcrue from a prut ac" d \"0:-. owe; and 
protr'lc ,d i is SUft tú IJ \\ hru tl e uttu.>' m de 
111 a ùay bj" the;:, ;Ii 'g \ :>L:!, ucn \\.tlt the 



132 [},larch 19, 1804.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


boats towing ahead, is t,,'enty-fi\'e miles, and 
not always that. 'Ye anchored for the night all' 
Fort Alfred. This fort consists of about four 
acres of grass, with one gun placed defiantly in 
the centre. On all festive occasions the gUll is 
supplied with a limited quantity of po,,-der, and 
crammed with grass up to the muzzle. It 
astonishes the natives, and duly asserts and 
proclaims the birthday of her Majesty the 
Queen, the landing of his EÅcellency the 
Governor, or any other legitimate cause for 
rejoicing. 
I 'Ve found nothing worthy of note at Fort 
Alfred, except the mosquitoes and sand-flies. 
The former were very hairy and net ermined, 
Fortunately they were not unanimous in their 
I attack, or we must have been drélgged through 
the port-holes and inte the river. 
As we advanced next day, the banks were 
covered with gigantic mallgroves, sixty or 
seventy feet high. They formed a dense, im- 
penetrable jungle, and with their arching roots 
made a forest both above and beneath the water. 
The sun was again fierce and hot; our paint 
blistered; the tints of the mangrove-from palest 
green to dark olive-glowed in it, and the sullen 
flowing river reflected it back, as if the surface 
were of steel. The jungle abounded with yelling 
parrots and pretty little red monkeys. We 
passed three pelicans; one of them received a 
charge of shot, and uttered a sound something 
between the squeal of a pig and the noise 
cansed by sharpening a saw. 
In this part of the river hippopotami abound, 
and every now and then huge uncouth heads ap- 
peared above the surface; one matron rose with 
her offsprillg sitting on the back of her neck. 
Next, the mangroves disappeared, and the 
banks to the ,vater's edge were clothed with 
palmetto, palmyra, date-palm, and palm-oil trees. 
The palm-nuts hung in splendid clusters, and in a 
palm-grove we came" to a colony of dog-faced 
monkeys. They barked and raced from tree to 
tree, and made most ludicrous faces at us. 
n was not only the beauty of the trees which 
one admired, but the luxuriance of the orchids, 
and the creepers, and the gigantic convolvuli, 
heavy with blossom. 'Ve saw flocks of cranes, 
of all sorts and descriptions, great baobabs with 
enormous fruit and scanty leaves, a profusion of 
growth, a grandeur which it is impossible to sur- 
pass, but which is depressing, because it seems 
to have superseded humanity. 
At length, after a weary voyage, we reached 
the mouth of the Tambacunda Creek, and 
dropped anchor. 
On the following morning the storming party, 
consisting of three companies of the 99th ". est 
Indian ltegiment, were transhipped from the 
Swan to the Hastings. The Swan could not 
pass the bar at the month of the creek; if shr 
had been able to do so, she would have found 
plent.y of water inside. . The enh;ance to the 
creek is very nan"OW, but It soon wIdens out to 
about three-quarters of a mile, and, as t he banks 
are not '-ery densely clothed, glimpses are to be 
got of a tolerably open plain countrs. 


After steaming an hour and a half, we 
arrived off the landing-place, about eight miles 
from the entrance to the creek. The enemy 
had thrown up a breastwork, flanked by 
an earthwork its whole length of two hundred 
yards. There were nati\"es occupying it; aud 
chiefs, with their long robes streaming in the 
"ind, were dashing about 011 horseback and 
brandi
hing their lances. Before commencing 
operatIOns the governor gave them a last 
chance, and summoned them to surrender; but 
they answered that they were all men there, and 
that if we thought \\ e could land, we had better 
try. They were then told, that if, at the expira- 
tion of all hour they did not clear out, we 
should open fire. This was done to enable the 
Hastings to moor, and take up her position: 
also to give time for the Jtamsgate to come 
up, and the other vessels with the troops. Just 
as the hour expired the Ramsgate have in sight 
towing two ships, and the Hastings fired her 
broadside. A column of dust fifty feet high 
rose from the earthwork, and there was a roar 
from the adversary, who kept up a spattering 
fire henceforth 011 all that showed themselves. 
We saw a large gap where the sixty-eight 
pounder had gone through, but the twenty- 
fours did not seem to do much more than stir 
up the dust, As the ships came up one by one, 
and took their positions, a heavy fire of musketry 
was commenced, and no head or hand could be 
shown above the embankment without a hole 
being made in it. One fellow excited universal 
admiration. He was a tearing mad l\Iollah, or 

reegree man, quite covered with greegrees and 
strips of the Koran. He jumped on the top 
of the embankment and walked deliberately 
along it from end to end, screaming his war-cry, 
and waving his sword. He was the mark for a 
thousand rifles, pointcd by practised riflemen, 
yet he escaped unscathed. On his passing back, 
a shell burst close to him, smothering him with 
dust. Wet hough t he was gone; but when the 
dust cleared away he stood there safe, and after 
a farewell shake of bis sword and a yell, he 
jumped down into the trench. 
At the end of four hours, it appeared that the 
damage done to the earthwork was so small that 
it would present just as many difficulties to the 
storming party as it would hare done before the 
firing commenced. The captain of the Hastings 
wanted to keep up the firing till sun-down, and 
thcn 1.0 begin again next morning, and keep on 
until he had knocked a hole in the embankment. 
The colonels ofthe two regiments inclined to this 
course, for. if we landed in small boats, some- 
body would certainly be shot, and possibly a 
good many somebodi
s. But the major, who 
commanded the stormmg party, begged hard to 
be allowed to land, if only with his own regi- 
ment. He was ready to stake his commission on 
clearing the enemy out of the earthwork, and 
covering the landing of the main body. 
He was some thirty years younger than the two 
colonels, and more enthusiastic; perhaps, too, 
at eight-and-twenty a man has more IItomach 
for fighting than in after life. Anyhow it "as 



ALL TIlE YL\R I
OUXD. 


Charle. Dickens.] 


drcided to storm, and the bmlt!l were pip d. 
Whil. 8tandin!; on the bulwark to suprrmtend 
the embark,ltion, the first lieutenant of the 
Hd<;ting'J \US shot through the leg by n part
 
with an elephant gun. "ho had already favoured 
four lJIen on bo,ird with bullets in diffel ent 
part't. It is a neat thin r ". t his elephant 
un, 
c lrries a two ounce bal, and has a report 
m,e a twent) -four pounder At len!;th, we of 
the stormill''' party were all in the boats, getting 
in, of cours
, on the sheltered side so that the 
enemy could not tell "h
t we were doing"_ The 
Hastin
s and Hamsgate fired incess
lItly, and 
their shell practice was, I believe, remark,ibly 
good. but at that moment one had hardly time 
to admire it. 
The boats shoved off, rounded the stern of 
the Hastin
s. and tbe men beg-an to give wa.v 
for the shore; then, despite what he himself 
had said and enforced all the morninlJ, about 
men keeping behind the buh, arks and not 
exposing themselves, the c:tptain jumped up 
into the riIJgin!!'. cap in hand. In half a minute, 
the crew Were there too, and ga\'e us three such 
cheers as !lailors only can give; the other ships 
tool it up, and away we" ent, cheering in return. 
We got a volley when within fifty yards, but it 
did not stop us. Ever) body jumped overboard, 
waist deep, into the mud and \\ ater, and rushed 
on shore. 
A lieutenant of the 99th took a somewhat 
unfair .,dvantage of the other boats. lie is 
reported to have stood Q\er his O\\n boat's crew 
"ith a revolver, and to have threatened some- 
thing desperate if anyone were on shore bcfore 
him. With this rcward in vie\\, they exerted 
themselves to such good purpose that he \\as a 
whole boat's length in advance. Being Irish, 
\\ hen he landed he san!; out: "Hooroo! U sh ! 
Ye divils!" and dashed at the trench. 
.\. captain of the :French artillery came to an 
arrangement of a peculiar nature" ith a captain 
of the 99th. or course the Frenchman's guns, 
mules, and horses, could not be put on shore 
until the landing was secured, and a basis of 
oppration established: so he proposed to serve 
with the 99th as a volunteer. Ill' and the .English 
ca[ltain "ere to tale hold of each other's bands, 
and jump on shore together. This they did, 
and then the Frenchman saluted. fell into the 
ranks, and kept bis dressing: loading" and firing 
like a }Jrivate. 
The landing-place \Vas secured, and the 99th 
advanced in skirmishing order towards the brow 
of a hill about half a mile inland. The inter- 
mediate space was a rice-s"amp extending from 
the river bank; the bank was thinly frin!!ed 
with mangrove bushes. and dotted with rlde- 
pits. We passed tbem. and reached the hill. 
uhieh was covered with trees. Some of the 
enemy still held this position, but \'"ere easily 
driven out, and there was a broad plain before 
us three or four miles in len
th; there was a 
crop of ground-nuts on it. 
The men pac:scd on, 1\\0 companie skirmish- 
in
 and one in rr'.iervr, ",h('n all of a .udden 
there was n yell and a clou(l of du t on the left. 
, j 
1- 


r arch 1 ,1 4.] I" S 


Th,. bugl !I ran
 out, the men doubled:o d 
formAd 8quarf'. and it 8r m d at fir'it as If th. 
enemy must be among us irnmedihtely. '1 he 
\\ oolahs came on yellir! and 8
raaming to w hID 
two hundred yards, when \\e fired a \ollty; 
there \\ere three or four emptv saddle, and 
away the\ went. Two or thrre of them. w
'h 
more pluck th.m the othl>rs. rode up at a f'""l,t- 
tin
 J:;'allop, and then turned. and, when it, y 
were broadside on. "heelrd right round in the 
saddle, and fired tl1eir J1l
lets mto the squ rr 
goin
 at a 
allop all the time. They ride tile 
Arabs, with short stirrups, and a brc..ld fht 
stirrup-iron ltke a shoe, and with a high pUll 
aud cantle to the saddle. 

IeaIl\\ hill'. tbe Irish lieutell1.nt and hi
 com- 
pany had advanced on the ri
ht in pursuit 01 the 
enemy and were out of 5i
ht. They camr "0 a 
large town over the hill, and formed the prai - 
worthy intention of taking- it; but the en mv. 
\\ hom they had followed. findin!; how few their 
pursuers were, took heart, turned round, and 
drove them out. 
But t he lieutenant re-formed his men at two 
hundred yards from the town-the W oolah guns 
are u3eles!l at that distance- and kept up a fire 
on all who showed themselves. Findin
 that no 
support eame up, he :md four men rushed back 
into the town under a heavy fire from the enemy. 

md succeeded. bv aid of a lucifer-match and a 
fire-!>tick, in settín!; fire to it. .\s the wind was I : 
fresh. the bamboo and \\aule blazed up fiercely. 
The lieutenant then be!!an to retire \\ it h his 
companv; some fifty or- si"tty horsemen made 
a rush, but received a volley and withdrew, just 
as the support came up. .For this, the lieu- 
tenant 
ets the Victoria Cron. 
It" a<5. no'." half-past fi ve P.)!. The enemy 
was showm
 m great numbers. aud the tropical 
night drawing on, so the retire \\as sounded all 
along- the line. A::, we were on our way back. 
we heard the heavy sound of the Hastin!.P1's 
si"tty-eight, and v. histlill
 and shricling' high 
over our heads went a ten-inch shelL 1'0 tbe 
unin!>trueted it appeared to be seelin!; an enemy 
in the clouds. but it soon began to descend. and 
dropped bur!>ting in the mídst of a crowd of 
advancing \roolahs two miles off. We had not 
seen them. but thev had been discerned from 
the ship. They aft
rwards told us that the shell 
killed tìiteen men. 
Our camp for the night was fixed in the 
s\\amp at the edge of the ('r('ek. and. as nothing 
had been landed, we \\ere not \ery luxuriou
l) 
settled. S-.lme of us, howevel'. set to "ork to 
collect "ood and 
ass. startetl a r(.aring fire 
with ample provision for leepin
 it up. tool a 
pull of cold brandy-and-water till the .L.ettle 
boiled, and then lay down in our cloa}.c:, smoked 
a pipe. and hlL..ed over the events of the d3..Y. I 
There was some little firing fro'll the advanct.d 
piclets, but, on the whole, a quiet enough night. 
and sound sleep for every one. I 
Earlv rising was a necessity the ne'tt mornim;,. I 
for the .bugles, fifes. and drum5, left no pr- ibia1ty 
of re t. Then there Wf're \\ ...118 to bP d u..... and 
water to be e"tamined, and fiually there was a 'I 
II 



,-- 

 I I,A [
Iarch 19,1864.] ALL THE YEAR ROUN D. [C-.lùucted 
.1 
" I luxurious breakfast of ration pork, fried in the nUl into an innet' roo
n; but, finding no exit 
lid of a camp-kettle; the sugar and coffee had there, returned fuU tIlt, and, as Jack stood in 
I IJeen put into the kettle iiself, and boilcd to- the doorway, jumped over his shoulders. Jack, I I I 
'I !!ether. without the slightest hesitation, turned round 
Kohr, the town which the Irish lieutenant and fired after bim. A medical officer happened 
had partly burnt the previous day, was attacked to be leaning against the side of the door, and the 
and de
troyed; but there was very little else bullet passed nearer to his head than" as aO'ree- 
done wort h mentioning. The enemy carried a way able. " Jack," says his pai outside, "y
u',"e 
their killed and wounded, so that we saw none nearly shot the doctor." "Have I now!" says 
except those actually killed in the advance. Jack, with great frankness; "take a drin'k, 

o\.s usual, "e "ere embarrassed by our native vour honour." 
allies. They did not understand civilised warfare, 
 Later on, we met a large flock of sheep. This 
and seemed to merit the epithets of cowardly "as too much for the sailors; every man fired 
and murderous. They wouldn't go in advance, in any and every direction; and how it was that 
bùt after our troops had dri ven the 1Y oolahs out they did not make a " bod}" of some one, I 
of any place, these wretches rushed in to loot, can't tell. I , 
and murdered any unfortunate who might have The town was now on fire; and, as we had 
been unable to escape. marched ten miles in the sun, we were very 
On this day the guns and mules of the French tired. The marines were resting, when they saw 
captain were landed. The mules were splendid a crowd approaching, so they jumped up and 
nnimals, sixteen hands high. They were fitted fell in. But a black fellow came running up, 
,,-ith pack-saddles, and one mule carried the gun, and shouted, "Don't fire, don't fire! "\tVe your 
whilst another carried the limber and wheels. friends!" If they were, they took a strange 
'l'hey are much better suited to a savage country way of ShOWÍ1lg it; for they came up to within a 
than our artillery. Although we had four horses hundred yards, and then fired a volley. This 
to a t\\ elve-pounder, they could liot get on at was not looked on as a friendly act, and the 
the pace the mules did. marines returned it with interest, so our 
On thc foUo,,-ing day our force in the river "friends" retreated, leaving their dead on tLe 
was increased; for an admiral came up in the field. 
Spitlìre, a commodore in the Valiallt, and with At SlX P.)!. we began to rBtire; the marines 
them H.l\LS. Hawk. About four hundred and blue-jackets first, and then the 98th; the 99th 
seamen and marines were landed; also the covering the movement. It was soon dark, but 
commodore, and a gallant colonel, the governor we bad light enough from the burning towns in 
of l\Iusseguiob. our paUl. The stacks of ground-nuts burned 
"reformed in front of the encampment at with great fury; and, after the blaze was out, 
three P.M., and marched on Baloo and Kahome, caked and looled lile iron at a "hite heat. 
witb about fifteen hundred men. The marines The enemy's cavalry - report said the king 
\1 ere very fine fellows, and they came out splell- had a thousand-folIo" ed us at a respectful 
didly in contrast with the Zouave dress and distance. If they had had any dash, they might 
black faces of the 1Yest India regiments. The havc cut off a good many of us, as we were 
sailors looked on the expedition as a lark, but obliged to halt repeatedly to allow stragglers to 
ltighly disapproved of the conduct of the enemy, come up. 
at whom they discharged Illany expressive Close to the camp, the bullets again began to 
adjectives and other expletives, significant of whistle about our ears, and our first idea was 
disgust at their not shmying "more fight." that the ,,- oolahs had attacked it. But it "as 
For the "\V oolahs would newr wait till we came only our noble native allies", ho were celebrating 
up; they bolted from Baloo, and so they did the victory by discharging their guns, neither 
again from Kahome. 1Ve really thought they knowing nor caring whom they Illight hit. 
were going to make a stand at Kahome, and Two or three days passed. Our camp in the 
there were guns to the front, and shell and swamp was, of course, frightfully unhealthy, and 
rocket practice. Upon this, the enemy retired the loss of men would have beeu very great had 
into. the tOWII, the guns limbered up, the sailors, it not been for the action and excitement of the 
'I marmes, auLl the 99th ad,'anced; there were campaign. At length, after many urgent repre- 
two or three volleys, a rush, and Kahomc was sent at ions, the controlling powers "ere pcr- 
taken. suaded to move to higher ground, and we 
"\tYho could ,,'onder that the people of Burra- encamped on the crest of the ridge. Here, we 
baloo did not stand? Thev learnt the very first were troubled" ith dust-storms. You ".ould see 
day that we had a gun which killed to a certainty a spiral column of dust, thirty or forty feet high, 
at a thousand yards while theirs was uncertain and confined to a space of about a hunùred 
at a hundred; and, in addition, wc had field- yards, coming towards you. It. fills eyes, nose, 
pieces, ho" itzers, and rockets, which the pri- ears, and hair \\ ith sand, upsets everything 
soners told us destroyed all their calculations. movable, aud strikes your tent unless it is very 
Sailors are capital creatures, but their manners firmly fixed. 
nnd customs are sometimes objectionable. On During the day the thermometer stood at a 
entering- Kahome, the .W oolahs had disappeared, hundred and ten degree3 in the shade-rat
ler 
and, as there was no enem
, one very hairy sailor v.-arnl for the \York" e had; moreover, sleepmg 
rushed into a house to secure a goat, the goat in one's clothes for a week in this climate, does 



C IIrleB DI keDI.] 


ALL THE YE \H I
Or"';J). 


nnt promote comf( rt. _\.l
o, the mosquitoes and 
sand-fliu we rc mort' d I en ine ], and more hairy 
than nero 
A p-i uncr hrought in a day or two later, 
!1.ld 11 II \.he .h.ir.! of ßurralJaloo was JrreoltJJ 
cnr-!!' d at our t ..ul
 and d :)tr :--ing- .Kahome. 
as it 1 rf".%lrI l d h - "\8 a sort ot 
l{''''ca. The 
"odaIa! are 
I.\hOl -ians, and nearly evcry 
hou
' in I\.alwm" had n .Koran in it. nut it 
appe ,d 1m. the t')\\n \\a
 110t so complet"ly 
d,' tr )yed as "e had im 
in d, and that t he .ling 
h..d srut II', ('hief" rriors ßl,d two of his sons 
tIlil her, RJ.d thllt they had orders to hold .Kabomc 
lIcra 115t ' a mile of whitc mcn." 
() 1 rel \'ing this intclligence, thc co'uncls 
and the comme on determined to maTch I\t 
onee n!:!;1.in .K 'lhome. .For, if thc 'Y oolahs 
would stand and fight, '\\"e might give them a 

..., "'re lf
 on, ' .. l! end the war. 
Or...... more tIle marines and blue-jackets were 
hro\1!!'ht in from their ships, and onee more \\oc 
mal'f'hf'd arainst h..ahome. -We found it defended 
b.1" toc1-ade about nine feet hi!;,h, constructed of 
Sl ..
l tr"cs stuck sO...e four feet into thc ground; 
a bre Ls1\"orl... and a trench were behind this, so 
that it was impossible tf) hit a man inside. unle' 
you "ere on highf'r !!round and fired down on 
him, There seemed to be a gleat many people in 
the town. ()ur shot, shcll, and rockcts, dId no 
damage worth spealing of to the stockade and 
em tIm ork, so It "as determined to storm. 
Sailors and marines fOrJllt,rl the storming" 
party, supported by the 
Sth; thc 99th in 
re'lf'f\"c. 
The s :I( r
 rushed up to the stockade, and, in 
another minute, "ould ha\c heen mer; whcn, 
by one of thosl.. unfortunate accidcnts which can 
nc\ er be explaincd, a bu
le <<ounded to retire. 
Tllerf' "as a moment of hesitation, the cnemy 
fired a heavy volley, and the first lieutenant of 
the Valiant. and some twenty or thirty of the 
sailors, fell. 
The governor of Musseguiob was only a 
spectator; but, when the gallant soldier saw the 
men halting within ten yards of the place and 
falling f
t, he galloped up, jumped from his 
hors , and cheered them on, hat in band. Ag-ain 
the ad\ance 
as souudcrl, again thcy ru
bed 
at tile stockade. There bcing no means of 

ettiug- in, the sailors douhled round the side, 
ànd fairly heaved one another o\""er, rolling 
into the mid
t of the "oolahs. The flag- 
lieLtenant of the Valiant \\ as the first man in, 
and immediatcI\'" a \roolah clouted him on 
the bead "ith a "clubbed mU51-et. nut a sailor 
hayoneted the W oolah and helped up the fid
- 
licu
enant, not much the worse. The jolly old 
commo.:l re was tbe second man heaved ovcr, 
with-I thin1-, a l"idin
-whip iu his hand, but of 
t his I am not certain-it ma. havc been a sword. 
Ann
ay, he dId not u"e it, "but quietly pointed 
wi'h it dl'sirin!;' a 
..il(Jr to stick a man \\ho "as 
making biJ !!lclf unpleasant. 
Once in, a s('l'ne of'gan neither pleasant 
to describe nor to "iall ",S. The sailors, 
maddened by the 1039 of their offi('ers and 
comrauúl, dashcd at thc 'Y ooLhs "iIh the 


(Uarch 1 1 


1 ;j 


bayonet, and tIu' W ool.1hs fought to t1 Ia... ro 
q\larter bcing n.: d or 
iH n. lu al)..\. IHe 
minutt..... one hundr"') and fin) mpn we 1..1.1 d. 
and e\ cry man fell" here h(' sit ,tI. .\1 Df
 t .c 
lilled. were the 1\\ O. liS of the lir !r, and St. J.I 
('hids. It \\ as a gall1l1t.. cont(,' led act un ; 
but, when once our DIU "cre in, the 1\ otllcilla 
ood no chance. 
'nlC1l t he sailors 
 erf' ad vanf"ing, an officer 
of the !)\.th rode his hOI:)f' stra;
ht up to tbe 
stockade and hun
 his bridle over the top, in- 
tending to jump 111; hut he "as ..llOt throUßh 
th(' lc
, and his borsf' was shot dead. A black 
sergpant of the !.19th, bl fore the advance VtilS 
annoyed by a m.lD lyin
 outside the stockade, 
who lCl>t taking pot shots at him; and, at last, 
hit him in the calf of tLr leg. The black 
sergeant's gun "89 empty, 51) he snatched one 
from a comrade, r1Lhed dose to the stockade 
through the thie1..est of the firin
, and discharged 
his gUll full in his enemy's face. IIe then 
returned to the ran1-s, and unmediatc1y fell from 
I )ain and loss of blood. \\ hen the 11rst 
irutenant of the Yali.mt was lilled, a sailor I 
\\dl1..ed deliberately up and looked through the I 
stockade at the man "ho shot him. Then he I 
took his mu
1-et like a spear, with the bayonet 
fixed, darted it through, and transfixed him. 
The Frcllch do things we can never manage 
to achie\e. Å5 soon as tbe action '\\-as over, our 
:French nIly sent mules witb panniers tl
 
carried two men ea('h, for the com cyance of the 
wounded sailors. Then began the march home, 
and aIt hough a decided, ictory had been I?ained, 
it was not jO)OUS, for '\\"e "f're tall1J!; out" 
dead and wounded with us. 1'he sailors were 
buried ill the ri\""er next morning at eight 
A.M., and very melanchol. the dead m
tlch 
sounded, as it came faintly over the broad, 
silent ri, ere 
:".J.ilors, I think, have more fceling and less 
feeling than any otber class of the community. 
They were as bloodthirsty and remorseless 
as the sa\ages "ho opposed thcm while they 
were fighting; but they were as tender and 
careful as women o\"er their sick comrades. 
It was \ery touchirur to scc them handing 
their wounded from the II'lstings to their own 
boats when they arrived abreact the Yaliant. 
A great boatswain, with his e)"cs full of tears, I 
supported his messmatl""s head, and handled 
him as tendcrly as a mother would her child; I 
two hours before he had been yelling like a I 
sa.age inside the st(\cl. de, and dri\ ing- his 
baJ onet throu!;"h the body, or dashing out the 
brain", of a "oolab. 
And so the war ended, as it must end alwavs I 
"hen org-ani::.ed and "ell-disciplined troops en. I 
counter sa\a!!'es. The \\ 00lab9 were thrashed, 
and their ling was humbled. lIe promised to 
beban' bdter for the future, and to pay a fine. J 
lIe did behave a little better for a little while, 
but he ncver paid the fine, and so the war is 
ready to br::in agRin. I 
llls.ead 01 the Kine- of Durrabaloo, and his 
)larnbout:> and the Ùibe of \\ oolahs and the 
to" n of Kahome, tale any ling ou any part of 
I 



136 [March 19, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR HOUND. 


the coast, and his fetish men, and his tribe, 
and. his chief to" n, and the same story may be 
told. 


A GRUMBLE. 


ONLY the other day, being' in London, I went 
into a shop in Holborn, and asked for a boot- 
I jack. 
/ : I " They are almost quite gone ont, sir," said 
the man; "since these short boots with the 
elastic sides came in, we are never asked for the 
I I I altic1e; don't sell one a year, sir." 
" Good Heavens! To think," says Ralph Win- 
terston, of 1Yinterston Hall, in the county of 
Suffolk (who was with me), "that I should live 
to see a generation subsisting without boot-jacks! 
Take my word for it, men who begin hy leaving 
off boot-jacks will not stop there. There is no 
limit, sir, to the innovations of a speculative 
age." 
There was a time when ladies at court 
drank ale, and ate beef and sturgeon for break- 
i fast. Why? Because it was healthy? No, be- 
" I cause it was the custom; and custom, rational 
or not, must be obeyed, A reign or two later, 
I i I they took to draughts of a Chinese leaf soaked 
in hot water. It is true the new beverage was 
! found to injure the nerves, and produce diseases 
hitherto unknown, such as "indigestion," the 
"vapours," "nervous affect!ons," &c, Tea had 
been adopted without thought, its effects, there- 
fore, were unthought of. It may, or may not 
have effected a change in the constitution of 
our English race. Doctors of the present day 
find that their patients cannot be bled as their 
ancestors were. They bave less blood; they 
make less hlood; they sink if too much of 
it is taken from them, There are people 
who lay all this to tea. Calmly, what is tea? 
We soak a brown leaf, brought from China, in 
hot water, and drink a pint of it, almost boiling, 
morning and evening. On the stomach exhausted 
and. torpid with eight. bours fast, and on the 
stomach filled with a hearty dinner, we pour pints 
of hot water, and yet men who study physical 
training almost forbid any hot liquid. 
Iust all 
customs go on for ever because they have once 
begun? The robust vigorous people of Eliza- 
beth's time, who wrote robust verse, and saved 
England, and worried Spain, and defied the 
Pope, all in a sturdy way, did not drink tea, 
but ale and sherry. I must admit that they 
were scrofulous, scorbutic, and grey when quite 
young; I do not say that they were more 
vig-orous because they did not drink tea, but I 
throw it out. 
Students have written eloquently on tea, They 
describe its influence as risinri to the br
in in a 
calming, balmy way; quieting, clearing. I am, 
however, suspicious of a beverage that has 
sllch rapid influences on the brain. It may 
h
ve after results too, may it not? As for ale, 
, II we all know what that does; it fills, fattens, and 
cheers, in an open straightforward way. 
i I Nervous and brain diseases are now the pre- 


dominant diseases, thanks to railwav travellin.... 
the fretting cares of money-makin; and soci
i 
ambition, In the time of the G

rges, when 
the stomach was worked more than the brain 
and every London club could boast its cluste; 
of six bottle men-in 
he days of.gout-producing 
port and gross eatmg--o-astnc disease was 
more prevalent. Take a gaUery of old portraits 

nd you will at once pick out the men of th
 
gastric age, small eyes, red cheeks, three chins, 
short necks, stocky beefy men, of the Admiral 
Keppel, Alderman Beckford, Charles James Fox 
type. Now, I ask anyone did those drinkrrs 
of port think of the gout, or consider '.1. hether 
Portuguese wine, plus the brand.v, was healthy? 
No, They bowed to tyrannous King Custom 
in a fine stupid old obstinate way, and left the 
gout and theÍ1' estates to their punier children. 
In the old times, when Scotland traded more 
directly with her old friend France, every welI- 
to-do body in the Lowlands drank claret. When 
a Bordeaux vessel came into a Scotch port, the 
town crier went round with a cask of wine in a 
cart and sold stoups of it at the door to anyone 
who hailed him. Now, claret is a rarity, and 
the small lairds drink endless toddy. Can that 
great change in diet have taken place without 
some corresponding- changes in the national 
constitution. No, I say again; yet who heeds 
a change so vital? Did not Spain go down 
when she took to chocolate? Have not the 
Russians grown tame on tea and to baceo ? 
Their politiCal system can have nothing to do 
with it. Very well, then-and yet they call me 
testy when I complain of the folly of blindly 
and unthinkingly following new fashions. 
New fashions in dress produce new disease!;. 
Diphtheria, that infectious form of sore-throat, 
is said to have originated in the modern custom 
of wearing low, turn-down collars, instf'ad of 
the old stiff white walls, which now mark so 
cOllspicuouslythe middle-aged man. The national 
throat, guarded for so many centuries by ropes 
of muslin, black velvet solitaires, lace collars, 
and other knick-knacks, was suddenly stripped 
of all its defences, and thrown open to all the 
rude winds of the English year. The result 
blossoms out in the disagreeable form of diph- 
theria, nature's terrible warning of the danger, 
and simultaneous correction of the folly. To 
be sure, I have heard that the fashion of high 
shirt-collars lmd something to do with hiding 
marks of disease in the neck and face. But I 
don't believe it. 
There is one comfort, that if new diseases 
come in, old diseases die out. 'Vhere is the 
leprosy of the middle ages, now we wear linen 
shirts? Where is the plague of London? 
Where the sweating-sickness, and the black 
death, and the "stop-gallant"? Even the ague 
is on its last legs, and I trust the time may 
come when, mackintosh getting cheaper and 
more durable, an English labourer may grow old 
without being bent double by rheumatism, or 
tortured and twisted and cmmped till his legs 
get as thin as German flutes. 
It is rather a humiliating fact that semi- 



CLlLrles Dickens.] 


ALL THE YEA It I{OUXD. 


[
I.r h 19, If ....J 137 


'" \agi'
 drus more sensibly and more to the In the next Tf'ign. this Sf.. 1Ï-tur. /I fc 11 _ J.y 
purpo than civilised nations. The negro's to a jaunty Italian or Frt nell Cd;J-a cr' \ '1\..t 
wa;
tb.mJ, the 
outh Ameriean's poncho. the tartlct, !!'arnishLJ \"ith lace, allli tuhe<<l with a 
Russian's \\oolly coat, aTe perfect tor their &iu fe.lther-the cap that (\crJoo,-I y ' u
 in 
special purpu;:!('s. .Hut \\ hat 
ïji ","ould wear the Huguenots. Square, tow-padd i. II , and 
our blael hat? What aboriginal \\-oulrl not dance short slashed coats, accompanied this c p.. 
on it in sheerdisgustCul contempt? It is co
tly,. The alert. \i"acious. sen"ible ag-e of l:,i l- lh 
frail, leb in the rain. does not leep out the sun, hrou
ht in a sPJlsible dre-.J: an alert ti
ht-fittmg 
attracts the\\- ind, is unfit to tr.lvcl or to sleep doublet. a short energetic cloak, sen
lble shoe,. 
in, is ugl.v. uncomfortable, cold. 
et has existed knee-breeches. that set off the fo t and left 
now ill full fashion for some seventy years- the If'g at full liberty to storm C.ldiz or follow 
f'\ t'r sinee the First Consul's time, in fact-and Raleigh up a ship's side. :Still it \V.lS a luxuri( us 
i defies all reformation. Stupid type of Chinese dress. expensi\ e, leeping apart class(;s. too 
chang-elessness that it is. It has spread over all much belacrd and beje\\elled. Charlc the Fir
 's 
Europe. and reigns predominant wherever civi- reign, or rather the prO!rI'ess of free thou
ht and 
lisation is. the inùependence of the middle cla
s. led to a 
The history of English dress is an epitome of more sombre and Spanish style of drf' s. sad- 
human folly; old satirists of centuries past dened here and there by the 
eruples of Puri- 
laugh at us for our caprice and imitativeness. tanism. With Charles the Second, Wf" aban- 
'Veal \Va
 s copied the }'rench in dress, and the doned lace collars, and became more sober in 
Italians in music. Our armour \\as the only colours. With \\ illiam we grew Dutch, ga"e 
real dress that \\-as thorou
hly adar.ted to its up silks and velvets and frequent changes, for 
purpose, and that nc\ er changed tlll a change square - sI..irted cloth coats. square - cut shoes, 
\\ as indispensable either for splendour or de- heavy jack-boots, and lace cravat
. 
fence. The knight never ceased adding scale And. here a word on \\igs. .\. certain king 
and plate, till he grew into a perfect lobster of of moderate intellect and considerable ambition, 
steel-dangerous to others, but himself impelle- vice, and intolerance. becomes bald. He adopts 
traLìe. Unfortunately, just as this result was a flowing black wig. and henceforth for one 
attained. in came gunpowder, and blew all the hundred and thirty years or so, people sh'l\e 
strong men in arm our away. their hair in order to \\ ear other people's fleeces. 
People \\-ho wore ",igs and hoops could not for which they ha\"e to give forty and fifty 
ntTord to laugh at any oue, but we reformed and quineas. How few people questioned t l . . \\\;;- 
sf'nsible people can now venture to smile at <tom of this? It was not till after George the 
those Poli:.h boots of Richard tbe Second's time. Third came to reign that wigs began to die out, 
"hose toes. a yard long, "ere fastened with and at abont the .French Revolution time they 
sih'er chains at the knees; and at the horned slo\\ly passed a\\ay. let e\en no\\-, do not 
head-dress of Edward the Third's reign. that judges and barristers still wear those ab ur- 
drove some learned prelatcs almost to lll
anity. dities. and rejoice in them, and flourish them in 
Richard thc Second's time was, indeed. the eo- our eyes. and shake them at each other in heats 
ronation time of dandyism. for then men wore of verbal baUle? 
long' jagged sleeves. and robes glittering with The French Revolution made the first real 
heraldic deviccs, and they rioted in parti-co- sensible improvements in dress. It took from 
loured hose, one leg red. and the other blue, us the muslin bolster. and gave' u') blark silk 
and hung silver bells to thrir tunics. and gene- neckerchiefs; it threw away the old head wi", 
rally maðe consummate fools of themseh.es, but for real li\ing hair; it 
tarted the swallow-taJ 
in a splendid and gorg-eous manner. coat and trousers; it abolished the cocked-hat; 
Iu Edward the Third's magnificent reign. and tossed a\\ay the sword. 
ho\\rver, people dressed sensibly enough. The And here a word about the sword. Xever 
li!;ht surtout with the jewelled belt, the useful was a more mischievous custom tolerated in a 
hood. \\ere as becomin
 as they were \\-ell civilised country than that of civilians habitually 
im ruted; the hood especially, was a most ad. carrying swords. It was not because highway- 
mir.lb!e adaptation of old classic dress, and will men rendered the suburbs of London danf;crous 
ne\"er die out. It is still much used on the by night. that swords were worn. It was be- 
Continent. and. only lately, hoods hwe been cause it was the custom, as it had been the cus- 
uni\ ersally introduced into the costume of the tom. \\- ithout reason. and originating no one 
Russian army. kl1C\\ why. From the time of Elizabeth. to 
In Henry tbe Sevcnth's time. Flemish tradt' that of George the Third, when the cu
tom, a 
led to our adoption of those half Oriental head little bcfore the }'rench Ue\olution, died out, 
robes, !-o heavy, 
rave, and voluminous, that one hundreds of bra\"e but hot-brained young men 
s I in ,. an E
 CK'S picturc"', and in the chef- (the very flo","er of England) perished in duels, 
d'æuHe of Quentin Matsys. This head tire has for the most part resulting from this sensc:
 s 
a turh.m-liI..e border, it ri eS in huge bag-like custom. Take up any book of our criminal 
folds over the head, or f.lUs in cumbrous drapcr) trials of the sword-bearing times, and you will 
upon the robed shoulders. It ga\ e a certain find it full of trial:. for manslaughter. ori inll- 
dl!{nity to the largc fle
h, noses .lnd grim hard ting simply in this habit of \\ caring S\\ orus. 
(.lrcs of that great pre-Lutheran epoch. It typi- A party of young men met at a city Ì1.\ ern. 
th:d the solid heads it covercd. They emptied sc\cral bottles of claret, and tl n 



11 
,1 138 


['larch 19, lSG4.] 


ALL "THE YEAH. ROU
D. 


[Comlul ed by 


began gambling. A quarrel ensued, One whips service. A message to Congress from 1Yash- 
oft. his wig awl tosses it in the face of anot.her. ingtoll procurcd at the sallie time the passing 
There is a rush to the swords that have been of the first Foreign Enlistment Act of America. 
hung upon the wall. There is a riot of swords, This act made it high misdemeanour, with a 
a swift stinging thrust, and one poor lad reels penalty of fine and imprisonment, to be (, know- 
against the wainscot, his hand to his side. The illgly concerned in the furnishing, fitting out, 
waiters rush up with fresh lights, and find. or arming" of any vessel with intent that it 
that one of the genllemen in the bluc parlo
r shall be employed by any foreign prince, or 
has been run through in the scuftle, and IS state, colony, district, or people, for ag!:!;ression. 
already past the help of surgeon. The n1Urd
rs, against any other prince, or state, &c., with 
also, were innumerable that arose from passIOn- whom the United States were at pcace, It 
ate men in a moment of frenzy, of malice, envy, b
came high misdemeanour, also, with a fine 
hatred, or jealousy, suddenly resorting to the of a thousand instead of ten thousffild dollars, 
deadly weapons carried at their sides. and a penalty of one 
 ear's instead of three 
A noxious and ridiculous custom has al- years' imprisonment, for any person within the 
ready attained the age of sixt.y years. Need I limits of the United States to augment the 
say I allude to the swallow-tailed coat and the force of an armed vessel belonging to a state at 
evening dress suit P 1Vas ever such a grim, war with any other state that was at peace 'Tith 
ugly, undertaker's costume ever devised P But the Americans. The act further provided the 
110! it '"' as not devised by anyone; it grew?y collectors of customs with authority" to detain 
degrees into a custom. Noone introduced It, any vessel manifestly built for warlike purposes, 
no one invented it, it is merely the old George of which the cargo shall principally consIst of arms 
the Third coat sloped away until no front is and munitions of war, when the number of men 
left, and then dyed black. In the Walpole days shipped on board, or other circumstances, shall 
who would have dreamed of abolishing colour: render it probable" that such ve
sel is meant to 
a thing that all humanity delights in, or limiting cruise or commit hostilities upon any people 
the material of dress coats to cloth? The with whom the United States are at peace, until 
modish people who went then to masquerades, the decision of the President he had thereon, or 
and to Ranelagh, and the Pantheon, wore silk a bond gi,Tell. Such was the first American 
: I and velvet coats, maroon, cinnamon colour, claret, Foreign Enlistment Act of seventeen 'ninety- 
olive green, and sllch hues, and their waistcoats four, so far as it concerned the fitting out of 
were silver laced or tambour worked. I do not privateers. Its provisions were incorporated in 
say these garments should be revived; but I do tbe new act of eighteen 'eighteen, anù our own 
say that in right of their cheerful contrasts and Foreign Enlistment Act of a year later nearly 
varieties of hues, the people who wore them corresponds with it. 
were in better taste t.han we, their self-satisfied Our Enulish act, like the Americall, was 
descendants, are. passed whe
 occasion called for it. In eighteen 
What use are the swallow tails? Are they 'seventeen the people of England sympathised 
beautiful? Do they help us to steer ourselves? with the revolt of the Spanish colonies in South 
They render the coat lighter and less in the way America ao-ainst their mother country, Spain 
when we are dancing, or when we are in a cro,", d, complained that material aid against her was 
and that is the most that can be said for them. sent openly by British subjects; transports were 
Black, too, is good for the complexion, and chartered to carry ammunition, ships of "ar were 
wears well; it levels us all to one broad even prepared in our ports, not only did English 
class, and admits of no vulgar assertion of officers go out, but organised regiments of men 
wealth or rank. were formed and despatched. The English 
O'overnment forbade by proclamation the de- 

patch of supplies to either belligerent. But it 
THE CRUISE OF THE AL
\BAMA. was doubted whether our existing laws ap- 
plied to unrecognised governments, and whetl1er 
TOWARDS the close of the last century, when British subjects aiding Spanish colonists w
l"e 
the United States ",ere young, and their friend liable to penalty under the statute law. To lll- 
France was at war with England, a treaty be- sert a clause in the old act disposing of this 
tween the French and American republics was doubt, and to remit the old common law penalty 
madc to include a clause that forbade the ene- of death for enlisting in foreign service without 
mies of France to fit out privateers in American license (a penalty that prevented juries from 
ports. The French interpreted this as their convicting), the Foreign E.nlistment Act. now in 
own right in such ports to fit out, arm, and man force with us was passed ill the year eIghteen 
II privateers for harassing the commerce of Eng- 'nineteen. Its seventh section is to the e(reet 
i land, then at peace with the United States. The that if any person in any part of his 
Iajes
y's 
Americang'overnment denied the assumed right, dominions, here or beyond the seas, shall wIth. 
and demanded at Paris the recal of :M. Genet, out royal license "equip, furnish, fit out, or 
the representative of France in the Ullited arm," or procure to be dittoed, ?r shall.kn
w- 
States, by whom it was being not only asserted ingly aid, assist, or be concerned ill the dlttomg 
but acted upon. He "as fitting out and arming of any vessel to be employed by any sor
 of 
vessels, providing commissions for them, and people, or real or assumed government, agamst II 
enlisting American citizens for land and sea any other ditto at peace with England, "as a 



CbarJesDick DL] 


.ALL TIlE Yl:..\lt HOl:
D. 


[Karch IJ, 1 I.] 1 
O 


tnn port or store .hip, Ir wn.u intcn tn crui e 
or romlllit h( IIIÍl.J. . or skill 1 Jue or 
ddi\ er any coO\mi:islon for any ship or ve ,el 
wi' h Iï....1 mter t. 
uch ofl'Lndc:r sh.dl be d m d 
guilty of a nll"J... Ilr 1l0U h " 
ll be puni:!!hed 
wit I fine and impri" mnlt ,au 1 the \( " "i h 
\T' .fev r muy belor)? to, or be 011 board of it. 
shull be f"drlft'd. .\lId it shall be l.lwful for any 
ofli"'er of his 'l.ljt>Lty' C.lsto,u'\ or exci<;e, or any 
offi"'
r of his )hje...t y's now), el,lpowered to male 
seizure uuder ni tin... In" s of trade and n
\ i
a- 
tlOlI, to make seizure accordingly. Ncither the 
Amcriran 1I0r the .E1I!;lish acts "ere founded on 
all "'ation of the selling and building of vessels. 
l\t'ithcr act, therefúl"t>, contained words that for- 
bid thr c')mmerce of building and elling, if a 
trader really can build and sell" ithout ha\ ing 
equipped, furnished, litted out, or armed for 
purposes of ,var. Here is the place in tlæ act 
throllgh "hich the coach and four g-oes. 
Hit herto no conviction has be n sustained 
und('r oUl" O\Yll 
'oreign .Enli
tmrnt Act, althoug-h 
of ldte it has become nece
sary tll.tt Ihe English 
government hould seck to enforce all its provi- 
sions, aud a case has arisen, that of the Alrx- 
nndrn, in which a hard battle at law has been 
fought, It is argued on behalf of the pocket of 
the .E1I
li
h shipbuilder, that he may take orders 
of any belligerent 
ithout any regard for the use 
to '\\hich his goods are to be put, and leave only 
the belligerent aillI\H
rable for his ho!)tile intent. 
It is argued that the Americans, unrler their 
own act, e!)tabh
hed a convenient precedent in 
the case of the Santi...sima Trinidad. This 
vessel \\ as fi rst built at .B.1ltimore as a pri \ at eer 
against En
land, when England ami America 
were at war. In eighteen '8ixteen she was 
owned by American citizens, who sent her from 
Baltimore, with a car!;\'o of munitions of "ar and 
t\\ehe !\"uns, o"t('n
ihly to the north-" est coast, 
but re.lilv to help .Burnos Ayres, then in revolt 
a
ainst Spain. Arrived at Buenos A vres, she 
,,<IS sold nominally to the captain who 
 took her 
out, who tllf'realter commanded her as a ship of 
\Var belon
ing to the 
o\'ernment of Buenos 
Ayres, of which republic this commander- 
Captain Cha
ter-announced to the crew that 
he had become a citizen. Here there was a ship 
of "ar carrying from an American port guns, 
munitions of war, an .American captain and a 
crew prepared to become themseh"es implements 
of \\al' iu the "crvice of a forelg-u people in Con- 
flict with a state at peace "ith the .American 

o\ernment. Hut the judgment 01 the .\merican 

upreme Court, as delivered bv 
I'.J ustiee StorY, 
was, that .. although equipI
ed as a vessel òf 
\\ ar, the Sa.ntissima '1'1 iuidad was sent to 
Hueno
 Anes on a commercial adventure. . . , 
If capturèd by a ::-panish ship of "ar during 
the VOY3
e she would h.1H' becn jU!)tly con- 
demueù as .a good prize fOl' being enf!'=lged in a 
tr.dfic pUlllshablc by the law ot nations. .Bnt 
there is nothin
 in our la\\ s, or in the law of 
nations, ,vhi<:h torLid" our citizens from sending- 
armed \essels, as 
en as mw1Ïtions of war, to 
foreign ports for sale." 
Ag1in, there wait a yet more explicit Ame1Ïcan 


de ision in th case of t1 c B :i\.Lr, whici., i 1 t J e 

f'ar tll1rty-tw(, leh, lliitimore for t 1 i...: J!wf 

t. Thuma thl owner and equip'lt r _ 
u.n 
tu'lt h
 II::II. Baltimore to lool.. for fUllus to .u- 1 
and 1 u' p her fur a priviiteerir rr crui 
"'lle law,' tid tll
S dr . iun, 'dOf n 
J>r')hi
it armed Vf')" Is bellJu '-
 to cihz "U 
uf th... t; nited 
t dtf"S from sllllmg out of our 
pl)rts; it only requirM owners t') ,rivf' e- 
eurit... (a.. W88 doue in the pre'K.ut ca .) that 
sucb ve cis shall not be employed b if to II 
commit hos. :J:ti4!1 a
ainst fore. a pf)wers at- 
peace with the United :States. lüe c III c' 
are not authori
ed to detain vessel, alt hn\. 1 
manilestly buil for warhke purpose', and ab .1t 
to depart from the "Lnited 
tnte unit: j cir- 
cumstances shall render it probable that such 
vessrls are intended to be employed 6!1 tlte 
own & to commit ho
tilities a!;ainst ')me fore.
n 
power at peace with the United t:tates. All the 
latitude, therefore, nece'iSary for commercial pur- 
POSl,S is given to our citizens, and they are re- 
strained only frolll such acts as an- ealcul"ted 
to involve the country in war." This is all in 
direct defiance to the spirit of the law, but the 
way to such interpretation of it
 leHer, st.y the 
.English builder3 of the Alabama and the Alexa 1- 
dra, was shown to them in America. The,. ouly 
follo" cd it. 
'fhe Alabama was built bv the 
hssrs. LaÏ1d, 
of .Dir1..enhcad, under the n
lme of 
o. 290, for 
use as a Confederate \ essel of war, and co t, in- 
cluding }>rovisions enough for a four moutb' 
\oyage, In U. S. money, two hundred and fifty- 
five tuousand dollars. She is a barque-rig tI 
wooden propeller of rather more than a. thous..wd 
tons rcgistf'r, about two hundred and h\ el.ty 
feet long, and seventeen deep, with two bon- 
zontal engines of thlee hundrcd horse-po\\ cr, 
and stowage for three hundred and fifty tons of 
coal. '1'he main-deck is pierced for Ì\\che gun 
 
and the berth-deck able to accommocl'lte a hun- 
dred and twenty men. Intelligence ha\ ing been 
received that on a certain morning tl'e CU
tOU1- 
house officers \\ auld be prepared to board aud 
detain this vessel under the provisions of the 
l'oreign Enlistment Act, on the same morning, 
the twent:.-ninth of July, eighteen'sixty-h\o, 
before the custom-house officers 'H' c rL dy for 
t heir seizure, thl, 't el, startin
 three or four 
days before its appointed time, steanH..d out 
,Üth some half-dozen ladies all board, ineluJw
 
two daug-hlers of the builder, and some Rcnt1t:- 
men of Liverpool, who were takcn as a blind, 
ostensibly upun a trial trip. But in lIoellra 
Ihy the hOlid'lY p...rty was tram:ferred to a 

tea.n-tug, and there thc ve el remained sillp- 
ping hanl1s as bounlÌ to K as au of the lla.ha.lIldS. 
Xo guns had been placed on board at Li"f'rpo\'l. 
The new \\ar sh..amcr "ent filbt to the i
'.Lld of 
l'erccira, ill the .A
ores, where .she a\ _ d tLe 
arri\al of her arm.unent. }'irst camc t' A:.!'ri- 
pina of Loudon, with four thirty-two POli;11U r 
broadside guns, and t\\O pi\ot guns, a Sl1ty- 
eight pounder solid-shot gu.n, and a hnnd
d- 
pounder rifle gun, besides g"unpo\\Jer, Eutidd 
rifles, two caStS of pistols, shot, 5 11, duJot l 



140 [)[arch 19, 1864.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


[Conducted by 


munitions of ,var, coal, and all the clotbing for companion-hatch, and on sÏ!rnin!!', the men re- 
the men. 'Vhile these were being transferred, cei, ed either two montJls' ray "in advance, or 
there arrived also the screw steamer Bahama, one month's wages and a half-pay note," 
"itb more stores, two thirty-two pounders, all According to this man's list, while the chief 
the guns bein
 furnished by Fawcett, Preston, officers of the Alabama were transatlantic, ouly 
and Co" of Liverpool, and a the-proof chest four or fixe 'chief petty officers and one seaman 
containing fifty thousand dollars in English of the si
ty-six men forming the petty officers 
sovereigns, and the same amount in bank bills; and seamen of the crew 
ere from the Con- 
Jlaving on board also the future officers of t he federate States. forty-six. heing En
lish, and ten 
newly - built privateer, Commander Raphael Scotch, Irish, or "Welshmen, besides here and 
Semmes and officers of the Confederate steamer there a German or a Portuguese. 
Sumter. On Sunday, the twenty-fourth of The Alabama was one of t\"O privateer vessels 
August, 'sixty-two, Captain Semmes formally built in England at t.he same time and at the 
took command of the Confederate States cost of the Confederate government, by order 
steamer Alabama, eight guns. John Latham, of the same agent, Captain Bullock. The other 
who was among the crew of the Bahama who privateer, the Oreto, afterwards caUed the 
signed articles'to serve as a fireman on board FI.orida, also contrived to elude Custom House 
the Alabama, and who being afterwards dis- seIzure, 
missed from the ship made depositions at Liver- Of life on board the Alabama we have a livel.y 
pool to the United States consul, of which copies sketch Ül a pamphlet published at Liverpool, 
were forwarded to the British government. thus describing, through the brief and busine5s-like 
describes the manner of the start: journal of an officer on board-the acting 
"On Sunday, the 24th of August, Captain master's mate-The Cruise of the Alabama, from 
Semmes came on board the Bahama, and called her Departure from Liverpool until her Arrival 
us under the bridge, he himself and the officers at the Cape of Good Hope. 
standing on the bridge; he addressed us and said: On the day following that SUl'lday, the twenty- 
'''Now, my lads, there is the ship (pointing fourth of August, 'six tv-two, 011 which Captain 
to the Alabama); 'she is as fine a vessel as ever Semmes took formal cõmmand of the ship, the 
floated; there is a chance which seldom offers cruise was begun. Brigs, barques, and brigan- 
itself to a British seaman, that is, to make a tines were chased, and one was boarded, but 
little money. I am not going to put you along- they showed French or Portuguese colours, and 
side of a frigate at first; but after I have got the first prize was not taken until the fifth of 
you drilled a little, I ,yill give you a nice little September, when a ship showing American 
fight.' He said, 'There are only six ships that colours was boarded, and proved to be the 
I am afraid of in the United States navy.' He Ochmulgee, whaler, of :Martha's Vineyard, with 
said, '1Y e are going to burn, sink, and destroy a valuable sperm whale fast alongside. Posses- 
thc commerce of the United States; your prize- sion was taken of her, her crew and all desirable 
money will be divided proportionately according stores being transferred to the Alabama. Only 
to each man's r3.nk, something similar to the the American-born prisoners were ironed. Next 
English navy,' Some of the men objected, day this prize was burnt, and the schooner 
being Kaval Reserve men, Captain Semmes Starlight, of Boston, with passengers from Fasal 
said, 'Never mind that, I will make that all to Flores was chased and captured. On tllc 
right; I will put you in English ports where next day but one the passengers and crew of 
you can get 
 our book signed eH
ry three the captured schooner were landed at Flores 
months.' He then said, 'There is 
Ir. Kell 011 from the Alabama, and on that day chase was 
the deck, and aU tbose who are desirous of going given to the barque Ocean RO\Ter, of .1'\" ew 
with me let them go aft. and give Mr. KeIl thcir London, with a valuable cargo of whale 011 on 
names.' A great many went aft, but some rc- board. Prisoners and stores having been tran- 
fused, A boat came from the Alabama. and shipped, the Rover was scuttled, but her buoyant 
those who had agreed to go went on board. cargo kept her above water. Kext day the 
Captain Semmes and the officers went on board, barque Alert, of Kew Bedford, was found not 

Ir. Low, the fourth lieutenant, then appeared alert enoucrh to escape capture, and a bonfire 
in uniform, and he came on board the Bahama, 'YaS made 
f the Alert, and of t he Ocean Rover, 
endeavouring to induce the men to COllle for- and of the schooner Starlight. On the same 
ward and join, and he succeeded in getting the day there was another schooner taken, English 
best part of us. I "as one who went at the cüÌours having, ill each case of capture, been 
last minute. 'Vhen I got on hoard the Ala- shown bv the Alabama till the boarding officer 
bama, I found a great number of men that had was on the lost ves5el's deck. 
gone on board of her from Liverpool. Captain Ha,"ing landed prisoners at Flores, and re- 
Semmes then addressed us on hoard the Ala- ceived a vjsit from the governor, the Alabama 
bama, and Captain Butcher ,,"as there also, who sailed again, captured, on the 13th, an American 
had taken the .essel out. Captain Semmes said brigantine, the Altamaha, of Sippican, a
Id 
n 
he hoped we all should content ourselvcs and be the day following the whali
lg 
hip B.enJRllllll 
comfortable one amongst another; but any of Tucker, of New Bedford. The Journalist, 
ho 
you that thinks he cannot stand to his gun I was on this occasion boarding officer, de
crJbes 
don't want. He thcn ealled the purser, and I here the Alabama's usual way of pouncmg as 
such as agreed to serve signed articles on the sea-hawk on the sea-pigeons. 



ALL TilE Yr.\R nOr
D. 


[March J 9, 1 S4.] 1 n 


Charlt'll J)(ckenp.] 


"11th. 1.30 .\.11. G:n'e ch
 e to a sail 011 
lee-bow. 2.31) A Y., fired a gun for her to 
hea\ e to. D:u-kness prcvented us knowin
 who 
she was, so I \\ eut on board to examine her 
papers. and which, if Yankee, I was to si
nal it 
and heave to until daylight. ,\ h'\t I did on 
boardin'j this ve!el '..as the course usually 
adopted in faling prize,. Pulling- under his 
stern I sa..y it was the \\ haling' 
lllp Benjamin 
r.I.'ueker, of and from Ke\V Hedfont Gaining 
the quarter-deck, J was welcomed with out- 
stretched hands. In answer to lilY questions, 
the captain told me her name, port. of registry, 
&c. &c.. of all ..\ hieh I \\ as prevIously aware. 
1 then told him that he was a prize to the Con- 
fcderate f'lates steamer Alabama, ordering him 
to put his clothes in one trunl, allowing the 
mates and men one bag each-all na\ igation 
bools amI instruments being left bchind. At 
daylight sent the captain and crew \\ ith the 
shIp's papers and lUf!'gage to the AI,thama. 1 
then examined the ship, and finding some cases 
of stores, they \\ ere transferred to our ship, 
'l'ht: preparations to firc her \\ ere soon made, so 
that after seeing her well fired we pushed 00' 
and rcgained our vessel, the prisoners (Yankees) 
being placed in siug-le irons." 
'1\"0 days afterwards, a schooner having been 
captured, the crcw was taken out and put on 
shore, when, sa)s the .Alabama's acting master's 
mate. U \\e stood out to sea and madc a target of 
prize. .\fter some creditable shooting we burnt 
her." :r\ext day an .American whaler \Vas taken 
and burnt. l\ext day a barque from :r\c\V Bed- 
ford ,\ a.::i taken and burnt; so that nine vessels 
were captured aud burnt by the Alabama in the 
first month of her cruising. 
On the third of October capture was made of 
the ship Brilliant, of :r\ew lork, on her way to 
Liverpool, with a cargo of grain and flour. 
Capture had alread) been made on the same 
nlOrning of "\n American vessel, the Emily 
Farnum, \\ ilh a cargo fouud to be neutral. 
All prisoners were, therefore, put on board the 
Emily farnum, And she \\ as sent on her \-oyage 
to Li\ erpool. But the Brilliant, \Vii h all the 
corn in her, \\ as burnt. .. It seemed," said the 
diarist, "a fearful thing- to burn such a cargo as 
the Brilliant had. \\ hen I thought how the opera- 
I tives in the cotton districts would have danced 
with joy had thl'v it shared amongst them." And 
then he adds: "This evening, quite une"pectedh., 
I I we \\ ere called to general quarters, going through 
all the evolutions in quite a masterly manncr. 
Sounded fire-alarm, manned pumps as for a 
I leak, called away boarders, and went through 
everything expected to be done in action. After 
this, e\ cry :Friday c\ ening, \\ hen practicable, 
.....a
 set ap:u t for general quarters." Three 
da) s later, ,mother vv,,"cl, with a lar
e cnr
o of 
grain and nOllr,. The ,,- ave Crest, of X e\V lork, 
bound to Cardiff, was captured. Her captain 
asserted that the cargo was .English, but as he 
had no papers to pro\"'e it she was made a prize. 
Crew haviug' been transferred, all hands \\ere 
called to quarter, and there were two rounds of 
shell-firing at the prize before she \\ :'5 burnt. 


On the same da.., before midni
ht. an Americ.t.n 
In'i!!,mtine, the Dunkirk, also ðour laden, was 
added to the number of thc victims, and among 
the crew of tht Dunkirk was IdL..en one George 
l'orrrst. "ho wns recognised by a seamau on 
hoard the Alabamd as a d('
erter from the 
Confederate States steamer Sumter. T\fO 
days after" ard
, a glnin-l,tdcll I>hiladelphia "hip. 
the 'fonawanda, was captured, and a court- 
marlial \\ as held on George 
'orr
t, the sen. 
tcnce being' that all pay. prize-moncy, &e.. due 
to him bc forfeited; that he fulfil Ins term of 
service, and forfeit all pay, excepting such as is 

ufficient to provide necessary clothin
 and 
libcrty monev." Of this man, the oflic"r's 
diary record; that, about a month later, he 

lippcd down a cable, swam to a boat, and rc- 
turned 011 board with a great quantity of 
pirits, 
co and handed it round to the crew. :md all un. 
known to a single officer, he not tasting a drop 
himielf-thus showin!.: that hi;) aim W:l,:) to cause 
a mutiny on board. Those of the men that \\erc I 
inflated. or rather infuriated, "ith liquor. \\ cre I 
placed in double irons. with a fcw exctptions; 
these, in addition to iroll
, were gagged, and 
bucket after buclet of water thro\\ n 0\ er them, 
until they became partially sober. A short time 
pre\-iously one man had been stabbed severely 
111 the arm. The officers and some of the petty 
o
cers were fully armed-the captain having 
gIven orders to that effect, and to cut down the 
tirst man that hesitated to obey nn order. The 
scoundrel Forrest \Vas triced up in the mizen 
rigging two hours on and 1\\0 off." 
A \\ eek after this, "on the tweuty-;)i'\lh of 
K 0\ ember." the officer':) diary records: ".\.11 
hands aft to muster. Sentcnce of gLneral court- 
martial read to prisoner." The 
entence \\as, 
that Georgc Forrest, A.B., forfeit all pay, prize- I , 
money, &e., due to him; that all wearing dp- 
parel (e"tcept what belonged to him "hen 
previously captured) be ta1..cn from him, and 
that. he be ignominiously di
missed the suip and 
serVlCC, placed in the hands of the ma;)ter of 
arms, and put on shore at the i
tmd of l3lan- 
quilla. '1'0 the account thus givcn by an officer 
of the Al.,bama, we shall add the \ ersion of the 

ame incident as given by the ex-fireman, John 
Latham, in hi.. information against the ves
el 
on \\ hich he had 5e1"\ cd : 
"There was a man of the name of Georg-e 
Forrest, who one of the mid
hipmen reco,;,nised 
as having been a seaman on board the Sumter, 
and had deserted. He was brought on board to 
Captain Semmcs. \\ho told him that if hc be- 
haved well he should have his pay and prl7e- 
money as the other men, but that he h,lll a right 
to detaiu him throughout the war without pa, mg 
him a cent. Forre..t was retained on bo.trd the 
Alabama, \Vas frequently punished by having his 
hands and leg-s fastened to the ri
!ril1g', th
 
punishment being known as the · sl?read caglE', 
and he \\ ould be kept in this positIon for four 
hours at a time. and this was done at least 
Í\\ enh- time." and at last they ironcd his Ie-s 
and n
ms and sent him on shore on a desolate 
island cilled Blallquilla, some t \\ 0 hundred 



1':2 [lIIarch 19, 186J.] 


[Conduct' J 11)' 


ALL TIlE YEA It ROUSH. 


miles from the mainland, and left him. The 
crew" subscribed some seventcrIl pounds, un- 
known to Captain Semmes, which" e gave him, 
in the hope of its being some iuduccment to 
a ,"essel to take him off." 
Blanquilla is a little harren island in the 
Caribbean Sea, much .i::.ited by turtles, and 
inhabited by three men who keep goats and 
go fishing. It has also a harbour visited by 
ships. 
How tIlC Alabama took and destroyed the 

hnche5ter, laden with wheat and cotton, from 
New York; how she took eighty thousand dol- 
lars ransom for the Tonawanda, which had 
s
\ enty _{hoe passengers on board, who, says the 
diarist officer, "testified in rathcr a ludicrous 
manner (to me) their joy at their deliverance;" 
how the good ship rode out a squall; how she 
capturcd the Lafayette, grain laden; for the 
captain, although he, too, said that his cargo 
was English, had no papers to prove it; how 
the prisoners, "ho had been li\'ing under a tent 
rigged for them on the maindeck, were, in con- 
sideration of cold weather, put below in the 
forward fire-room, it being vacated for that 
purpose, and the fires kindled in the after one 
instead; how it angered the men of the Alabama 
to read in the American papers, taken from the 
Lafayette, tuat they treated their prisoners worse 
than dogs; how, presently afterwards, more 
papers were taken from another prize, a schooner 
from New York, on her way, grain laden, to 
Glasgow, and when "we read the infamous 
assertions made by the captain of the Brilliant 
with respect to our treatment of prisoners, a 
conviction was forced upon every mind that 
kindness extended to them was completely 
thrown away;" how, two days afterwards, an 
American barque was taken, and two days after 
that the brigantine Baron de Custine, which 
"was ransomed on condition that she took charge 
of and landed all the Alabama's prisoners; how 
also the Alabama took and bnrnt several more 
vessels, we read in the officer's journal of the 
cruise, until the anchorage of the privateer in 
the harbour of Port Royal, Martinique, when its 
officers and crew had a most cordial reception 
from the inhabitants, hoth civil and military. 
There the United States war steamer San Ja- 
cinto, fourteen guns, was on the look-out for 
the audacious rebels. Her commander was 
warned by the governor at Port Royal that the 
San Jacinto must either come in and anchor, in 
which case she was bound to remain till twenty- 
four hours after the Alabama had left, or she 
must remain on the watch three miles out at 
sea. He chose the latter course. The Alabama 
slippcd out unobserved, and the San Jacinto 
continued her blockade during the next four 
days after the Alabama had departed. Having 
met at Blauquilla the vessel that brought her a 
fresh supply of coals, the Alabama set to work 
again, and, omitting' note of small captures, her 
next notable prize was made on the 7th of De- 
cember, in the United States mail steamer 
Arid, running from New York to Aspinwall. 
" The steamer turned and made for oft The 


order was then givcn to train and fire the pivot 
gUlls at her; a second order was gi\'en to fire 
at her smo1.c-stack. In the position she then 
was, lu'r foremast was in a line" ith the smoke- II 
stack. Both guns were then fired, one shot of 
which struck the foremast about ten feet from 
the deck, taking away ho.thirds of it, the stick I 
still stal.lding; fortunately, they did not explode 
at the time, else the carnap-c amongst the pas- 
sengers "ould have been frightful. She then I 
hove to. A boat ,,-as sent on board, and the 
captain brought on board us with his papers. 

hree boxes of specie, a twenty-four pound 
rIfled gun, one hundred and twenty-five new 
rifles, si>..teen swords, and about on
 thousand 
rounds of am
nunition, were quicklv transferred 
to our vessel, there being on board 
one hundred 
an
 
orty officers and men (marines) going out 
to Jom the United States Pacific squadron, and 
about fh-e hundred passengers, men, "omen, 
and children, severaillaval and milit.ary officers 
being also on board. The militarv were paroled. 
On boarding, the marines were ròund drawn up I 
in fighting order. From the captain of the 
steamer 1 learnt that the marine officers first II 
advised the surrender of the vessel. The 
Yankees said that they had 1I0t the remotest 
idea we should dare show ourselves in that part I 
of the world..' 
As there were women and children among the 
passengers, it was resolved to land them at 
Jamaica, but from a vessel afterwards boarded, I 
it was learnt that yellow fever had broken out 
at Jamaica, so it was dctermined to ransom the 
Ariel and let her go. Just at that time an acci- 
dent had happened to the machinery of the 
Alabama, but the crippled state of the capt.or 
was carefully kept secret, and afterwards the 
engineers worked night and day at the repairs. 
The next event of note in the story of the 
Alabama's cruise was her fight on Sunday, the 
cleventh of January, 'sixty-three, '" ith the 
Federal gunboat Hatteras, carrying nine guns. 
This was one of seven "ar vessels sent to re- 
capture Galveston, and her battle at sea wit.h 
the Alabama, twenty-eight miles from Galveston, 
was, between t"o steamers ont at sea, the first 
yard-arm action of the civil war. Says the 
diarist: 
"At G.30, the strange steamer hailed and 
asked, '.What steamer is that ?' "r e replied (in 
order to be certain who he was) 'Her 1\Iajesty's 
steamer Petrel!' 'What steamer is that?' Two 
or three times wc asked the question, until we 
heard, ' This is the United States steamer -,' 
not hearing the name, However, United States 
was sufficient. As no doubt e
isted as to bel' 
character, we said, at 6.35, that this was the 
'Confederate States steamer Alabama,' accom- 
panying the last syllable of our name with a 
shell rÌred over him. The signal being given, 
the other guns took up the refrain, ana a tre- 
mendous volley from our whole broadside gi\"en 
to him, every shell striking her side, the shot 
striking being J.istinctly heard on. board our 
vessel, and thus found that she \vas Iron. 
"TLe enel-ilY replied, and thc action became 



.. I ker 


ALL TIlE YFAU UOCXD. 


I. A h rD, spiritrd firin f ' was 10: 
L 
LI fl\1} [11 I R, our it llUW pepperil1,., awavas 
tl I
h tht.: ,\ctinn df'pf'nded upon el h indi. 
vi lual. \utl () it did. Pi
tul:! anù riJ( wer' 
continually puurin
 fnm our quart r. I ck m("1- 
I 
c rs nau t de. By, th di ,111(" (l1I1'J
,t!' the 
l' t ')f tl li
ht, l' t b in"
 morf' than forty 
), r I., ! It" '\s a 
r,md, thounll f arful . i
ht to 
c tht' gl'ns bel"hir
 krth in the d...:'nc ß of 
the ni
ht 'I Pt'l of liVlI1
 fl,l.ue, the de..dl) 111:.. 
::
, trikil 
 the em illY with a force tlu.t we 
coull) f' 1'h('n, when the shells struck her 
..illt., and e!i!peci..a1ly thc percus:,ion on s, her 
"hol s 1 
 "as lit up, sho\\ ing' rents of five or 
six feet in len
th. Onc 
hot had just struck 
our :.mol.r-stack, and "ounded one man in the 
ch el, \\ hrn th(" encmy ceased his firin/!" and 
firnd a leI" gun, then n 
eeond, and a third. 
The ordf'r "as then given to f ('ease firing.' 
Titi, was at 6.52. A tremenùous cheerin
 eom- 
mencI'd, and it was not until e\cryboùy had 
cl.ar"d his throat to bis own satisfaction that 
silence could be obtained. \V e then hailed her, 
and in reply he stated th;\t he had surrendered, 
was on tire, and also that he was in a sinkin
 
condition. lIe then sent a bO'lt on board, and 
surrendered the United Slatn gunboat Hatteras, 
nine guns, Lieut.-Commandcr Blake, one hun- 
drcd and forty men. Boats were immeùiately 
10" f'red, and sent to her assistancc, \\ hen an 
a:,mn was gi\ en that another steamer \\ as bear- 
ir
 do. n for us. Thc bO:lts \\ere recalled and 
hOUed up, \\ hen it \\as found to be a false 
alarm. The order \\as then gi\en, 8..lÙ the boat- 
I swain and his m..Je pipf'd' All hands out boats 
to saR lifc,' and soon the prisoners were trans- 
ferred to our ship-the officers under 
uard on 
th quarter-deck and the men in single irons. 
The r nts werr then hoi:.
ed up, the battery run 
in aud eure 1, aud the main-bracc spliced, All 
hand" pipnd do" n, the enemy's vesscl sunk, and 

. stt,1med quietlv away by 
.:30, all having 
b
eIl done in Ie " than h\o hours." 
On the tWLllty-first of January the Ahb'\ma 
paroled and landed at Jamaica her prisonf'rs 
from the Hatteras, coaled, suffered some in- 
C'on\"enience from dissatisfaction in the ere". 
:-;"\ cn de
 'rtcd, and, sa.ys the diarist, "circum- 
shnces of a painful nature compelled our 
comrr"\nder, though reluctantly, to dismiss 
the payma"ter from the ship and service. After 
depri\ ing him of his S\\ ord, &c., he was sent 
from the yes cion shore The alternative of 
rf'maining on hoard, confined to his room, until 
the ship reached a Confederate port, was left 
111m." Thi, is the paymaster, Clarence Ran- 
dolph longe, who says in his depositions, 
".lly connexion "ith thf' ship tcrminated in 
Port UO\ ai, and I subsequently came to Erg- 
land," "hen he made to the :Federal authoritit s 
the d po itiul1 a
ainst the Alabama from 
w}'i,nh \\,' have alre dy quoted. 
('<..aled and pro, i:.illned, the \labama ran out, 

""lin eludil1"
 .Federal 10oJ...-out. A prize was 
t,.lcn on the third of .f'ebruarv, anot} er and 
andher "ere tak"n on the tw nt,:, -first, one on 
the t"enty-sevcnth, one on the fir..t of )'larch, 


'11..1 .] J1.3 


'r 9n th.. 8
 ,)I.d, a'10':.er m tl' 1 tho 
all<..thpr on the t" nt} -thi
, aold t... 0 0.1 tt-- 
tWt ntv-fifth, man v \"f qel bt:,.,., of ('''une, 
c d and boardd found other m.m Am 'ri("1ß, 
and lcft tc .,,0 their way, yes Is with n Itral 
car bein
 ransomed, and hayillA' the Ala- 
ban A'S paroled pri:.oner& transfern i tr them, 
other v(' 1S htin
 de troYf'd, and the Alabama 
f!e' ..ally, "hP'n not en
!!'f'd in makin
 capture, 
ctl nri!,ing her!' If as tl.e United f;'ates st "\mer I 
D.
(' h. On the tenth of April she arrived at 
It rJ1.lndo de 
Ioronha (a Brazilian pnnal spttle- 
mpllt, wh"'re 
here is pl p nty of live stocl and 
f:!ood ":lter) with a prize in tow, b .Ul v .cl, 
flying t he Confederate flag. Ua\ in
 c .Lied 
there, she again proceeded on her way, captured 
and rlestroyed n brigantine and a barqnc, 
\.merican \\ halers, on the fifteenth, and sent 
t he prisoners on shore to the number of onf' 
hundred and forty, with twent) - one da)s' 
provisions. On the twenty-fourth capture W8 
made of another whaler; on the twenty-"ixth a 
ship from 
ew York was t:ù..en and burnt; the 
captain, who h'td his wife with him, bf'ing all 
usual accommodated in the ward-room. On tb" 
third of May two more vessc.:.s were taL.en and 
destroyed; of one of them the captain had with 
lúm his wife, servant, and t", 0 children, and as I 
passeng-ers a United States consul for Chc- 
.Foo, \\ ho was taling out his wife. I 
On the eleventh of \f'tV the \Iab,ma anchored 
in Bahia harbour, her appcaranee there causin
 II 
the most inten"e e'\ci'-ement. The (; .S. consul I' 
demanded her detention; she obtained relu('t lIt I 
leave to land prisoners and get suppliec;; rf' 
ceived visitors innumerable, and sent out, It" 
the English mail-boat, a challengp to the l.:-\. 
steamer Mohican to stop ber and fight her. TI.J 
Confederate steamer Geor
ia, five gun"-, Com- 
mander :Maury, entered the I.Jarbour" hile the 
Alabama was yet there. nut the departure of 
the Alabama bcin
 ordered by the shore autho- 
rities when she had finished coaling, she rnt 
under weigh on the twt"nty-firs t of )[ay, and 
four da) s latcr captured an American ship hi.;! n 
with CO'll. 
Another capture was made on the twent
. 
ninth, another on the second of Jun<>, another 
on the fifth, of the 1'ali"man, which contained 
h\ 0 brass rilled twelve-pounders. There was no 
other capture made till that of barque Conrad. 
on the twentieth. :Ke}.t day the two brass guns 
of the Talisman" ere put on board the Conrad 
with a quantity of small-arms, coal. pro\isions. 
and a Confederate crew, upon which she hoisted 
the Confederate f},lg, fired a gun, and \"as 
declared commissioned as the Confederate 
St:ltes barque Tu
aloosa, Lieut4'nant - com- 
manding Low, late junior lieutenant of the 
Alabama. _\nd so the parent cruiser and her 
oJr:.prill
 part('d company. .\Cter having taken 
only one prize in July, and anchored at SJlJaoha 
Bay early in August, the Alabama chased a sail, 
and found it to be her new.born Tuscaloosa. 
They compared notn, partcd again, and having 
made a capture almost immcdiately afterwards, 
the Abbama c,me to anchor and baulcd fires 



144 


p[arch If', lSG!.] 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


in Table Bav. :From that time until the six- 
teenth of September last year, when the journal 
enùs, t he Alabama was cruising in those seas 
as a Confederate spider on the watch for Amel.i- 
can fiies that passed the Cape. Seizure was 
made at the Cape of the Tuscaloosa, but as she 
had been fitted out on the high seas, certainly 
beyond British jurisdiction, the English govern- 
ment could have no power to detain her, and she 
was released. 
Here, certainly, is record enough of the 
powers of mischief in a single privateer. But 
the English government has shown its desirc to 
test thc utmost powers of the Foreign Enlist- 
ment Act, and to enforce them all. It sou
ht 
to bring the letter of the law into acknowledged 
accord with its spirit by the prosecution follow- 
ing the seizure of the Alexandra.. But at the 
trial the Lord Chief Baron followed in his sum- 
ming up the American precedents already re- 
fen"ed to. He ruled to the jnry: "If you think 
that the object really was to build a ship ill 
obedience to an order, in compliance with a con- 
tract, leaving those who bought it to make what 
use of it they thought fit, it appears to me that 
the Foreign Enlistment Act has not been broken, 
.But if you think that the object was to furnish, 
fit out, equip, and arm that vessel at Liverpool, 
that is a difi'erent matter." And the jury found 
that there was no breach of the law. Tbe mo- 
tion for a new trial failed narrowly as every- 
body knows, but the crown has yet a right of 
appeal. 
The English government has also another 
trial of this issue pending- in the prosecution 
that is vct to follow s
izure of the steam- 
rams bnÍlt in the yard of .Messrs. Laird Brothers 
of Birkenhead, professedl.v upon the order of 
1\1. Bravay, a merchant of Paris, given on behalf 
of the Pasha of Egypt, the rams being named, 
in accordance with this statement, EI Tousson 
and EI 
Ionassia. The Federal government be- 
lieving these rams to be destined for the use of 
the Confederates, made, on the eleventh of Last 
July, strong representations to the English 
government upon the subject. The English 
government required evidence, and on the first 
of September last it was still debarred from 
action beyond active inquiTY, and, in the mean 
time, friendly effort to secure the rams by itself 
I ' , ! becoming- their purchaser. For, until then, 
there was no evidcnce beyond hearsay to show 
that tbe rams were not being really built for a 


French merchant in Paris, and thc responsiUe 
agent of the C11stoms at Liverpool affirmed his 
belief that the vessels were not built. for tbr 
Confederate States. But between the first and 
the fourth of September evidence yet uudis- 
closed came into possession of the go,-ernment, 
and after that date orders were givcn to detain 
the rams. The Egyptian government had de- 
clared that it was not, as alleged, their pur- 
chascr; and since theil' seizure the Confederate 
government, ill the report of thc secretary to 
the Confederate navy, has acknowledged that 
they are, in fact, two of eight iron-clad rams, 
designed expressly to break the blockade of 
such ports as were not blockaded with the iron- 
clad 1\Ionitors of the enemy, of which rams five 
were contracted for in England and three in 
France. " Due pl"ecautions," says the Confede- 
rate navy report, ",,'ere taken against cont.ra- 
vening the laws of England in the construction 
and equipment. of these vessels. Three have 
been completed; but owing to the unfriendly 
construction of her nentrality laws, the go\"Crn- 
ment of England stationed several war vessels 
at the mouth of the :Mersey, aud prevented their 
departure from England. Subsequently they 
were seized by the Britisll government." 
Practically, then, there is no doubt as to the I 
purpose for which these seized vesscls were " 
built. But the extent to which it is possible to 
enforce legally the intentions of the Foreign 
Enlistment Act will have again to be tested in 
the case of these two rams. If the issne of the 
trial be assurance that tbe terms of thc act as I 
it now stands are insufficient, and that it can 
lawfully be evaded, to all practical purposes, in 
every particular, the bringing in of an amended I 
act will be the next thing we must look for. 
I 


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I 


QUITE ÅLO
E. 


BOOK TilE FIRST: CIlILDlIOOD. 
CII-\PTER XlI.-TIlE WILD A
nB.L. 
MOXSIEUR COXSU
T, giving' one low but 
authoritative tap at the door of the front drawing- 
I room, turned the hanùle and found himself in a 
moment in the presence of the" wild animal." 
She was not l)ing on straw. There were 110 
bars before her. She was not grovelling à quatre 
paUt''!. The wild animal was merely a very 
beautiful young woman in a black satin dress 
and with a great diamond necklace round her 
neck, and great diamond bracelets on her anns. 
}; eek amI arms were bare. 
"I put on these for him. I dressed for 
supper," she crie!l in a fury, so soon as she saw 
the valet, "and the traitor sends me word that 
he eßnnot come! Seuds me word by a vile little 
joekey-a lacquey. lIe has the soul of one," she 
continued, paraphrasing, perhaps unconsciously, 
Ruy BIas. " I will poison him. I will trample 
upon him. 
[y ne
t guest shall be that brute 
of a Gennan ambassador, who eats onions and 
drinks stout." 
The countess was a Frenchwoman, pur sang. 
"Tut, tut, tut," quoth Monsieur Constant, in 
French. "What a disturbance you rai!.e, to be 
sure. lou should have devoted yourself to 
melodrama, madame, and not to the manège. 
.What a pity that you should now have nothing 
better to say in public than 'Haoup! Imp là !' 
and that to a horse too !" 
"Coquin!" screamed the lady. ".\re 
ou 
come to insult me ?" 
" Do you want to wale )[ademoisclle R'Üaplan, 
who sleeps the sleep of the just? Size docs not 
m:k milords to sup with her. 
or "ould you- 
were you wise-the wife of an English gentle- 
man, un fashionable, un lion, quoi !" 
A dcep crimson vcil-a blush, not of shamc, 
but of rage-fell, lile a gauze in a scene in a 
spcetacle, over the woman's white neck and arms. 
She :!et her tecth for a moment and ground them, 
and then, starting up, began with the passionate 
volubility of her nation: 
"The \-rife of an English gentleman! The 
wife of a swindler, un escroc! a gambler, a 
rascal! lIc was to have millions, forsooth. I 
was to have a carriage. I was to have horses, 
1'3rls, châteaux." 


VOL, XI. 


u Well; you have four hor!.es as it is." 
U Yt,. .My beautiful husband allows me to 
become a horse. rider in a circus. I am the 
Honourable Laùy Blunt." 
U .Not a bit of it. Your husband is not .11 the 
least a titled personage. He is an English 
gentleman, nothin
 more." 
" He is a !.windler, a gamhler, a rascal!" t}'e 
lady repeated, \\ ith eoneentrdted bitterne ò>. 
"Enfin, I am the wedùed \\ ife of 
Ioru,ieur 
François Blunt. Monsieur je sui
 \otre trt:s 
devouée! Olr! he is an angel, my husband !" 
"
[on père m'a donné pour mari, 
'Ion dieu, fIuel homme, quel bomme petit." 
Thus softly whistled between his teeth 
Ioru,ieur 
Constant. 
"SJ.y, rather, un homme lâche-a prodigy of 
baseness. He married me by subterfuge and 
fraud." 
" He did," Constant echoed, agreein
 with the 
wild animal for once; "!.ubterfuge and fraud dre 
the words. Après." 
U His millions turned out to be all in prott !.ted 
bill!., long overdue, and for which he \\ as re- 
sponsible. He was erible de dette.,. He made 
me dance anù sing at his infamous supper 
parties for the amu<.ement of his vagabond 
aristocrat friends. It was 1 who paid the 
champagne à ees beaux fe:,tins. )Ionsieur was 
not too proud to dr"w my salary month after I 
month. ),[onsieur was unfaithful to me." 'I 
"V ous lui avez donné 111. répliquc, ma belle. 
U lIe insulted me, neglected me," the lady 
went on, seeming not to have heard the valet's 
scornful remark. "He beat me. lieat }IE, on 
whom no parent or governess ever dared to lay 
a finger." II 
"Don't 
ou remembcr the Beugleusc. You 
tried to strangle lllunt twice, to stab him once. I 
You would hMe put something in his coffee had I 
you d"red." I 
"Only when the marls of his hands were on I 
my face. There are women who lilc to be I I 
beaten. Hc should ha-rc married one of them. 
I tell -roll he is un låche." I 
U I ino\V it was not a happy ménage. Love 
flew out of the windO\-r soon after the honeymoon, 
and the fumiturc flew after it. You us d to I 
smash a great deal of crockery-ware bet\\ eln I 
you. Well; you v. ould have 
 our own way. 
It has brought JOU to thc Hòtel.Hataplan." I 


-J."j7 



1:1.) 


[M3'.
h 2G, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL TIlE YEAR ROU
D. 


"He deprived me of my child-of my little 
Lilé," the lady went on, after a few moments' 
silence, during which her bosom heaycd, and she 
panted: as though want of breath, and not want 
of griemnees, compelled her to a temporary sur- 
cease in invecti .e. 
"No," cried Constant, quietly. "You have 
nothing to accuse him of, with respect to the 
child. He didn't deprive you of it. I did." 
i ":Monster!" cried the lady. Hcr looks, how- 
ever, did not bear out the acerbity of kër speech. 
: I "Benefactor rather. I did not choose to have 
! the little one continue in the inferno its papa 
and mamma were making round it. If Blunt 
I had been left alone with it, he is so lazy, 
II insouciant-thoroughly and incurably heartless, 
if :rou will-that he would haye left it in the 
str
et, . or sent it to the workhoU$e. Had it 
been confided to you, it would have had its brains 
dashed out in one of your mad rages; or else it 
would have been educated for the pad-saddle and 
the circus. One Amazon in a family is quite 
enough, countess." 
He gave her the name bestowed upon her, half 
in env
, half in mockery, by her comrades of the 
theatre: "hom she offended by her haughtiness, 
and terrified by her temper. 
"Bon; and the child, where is it p" 
" Safe and sound, at school. When she is old 
cnough, she shall be a nun, and pray for her 
,,-ieked papa and mamma." 
" It is the child of Francis Blunt, and that is 
cdough to make mc hate it," said the woman. 
"A pretty speech for a mother. Nature, you 
ale a IJotent influence! To be sure, you have 
scarcely ever seen the poor little thillg. It was 
ample time, however, to deprive you of it. Since 
the morrow of her christening )-ou have never 
set e
-es upon her. I will take care you never 
do again, if I can help it. Your tenderness is 
of a dang-erous nature. When Heaven gave you 
that beautiful form, and that brilliant intellect, 
how was it that so trifling a matter, such a mere 
bagatelle, as a heart, was left out, madame?" 
As he spoke, he raised hÏ3 flaccid lids and 
gazed upon her with gloomy intensit
-. She 
tossed her head scornfully, and adjusted the 
glittering trinkets on her arms. 
"Do you wish to revive the old story?" she 
asked. "I thought that in our treaty of amity 
and alliance, o.ITensive and defensive, there was a 
secret al1icle to the effect that nothing ever was 
to be said about the da
-s when we were )-oung 
and foolish." 
" 'Vhen I was )'oung, and a fool, a madman," 
the valet retorted. "I am growing old, now. 
You are still 
-oung, but foolish no more. You 
never were. Oh no! You were al\Ta
's won- 
derfully wise !" 
"As you please," the wild animal, who had 
I I become strangely tranquil, perchance through 
sheer lassitude, uttered. " I must beg you, how- 
ever, not to bore me with these old histories of 
Colin and Jacqueline. They are all very well in 
pastel, or in porcelainc de Saxe, but they bore 


I I 
me in prose. 'Vhat do 
'ou want here, so late a.t 
night ?" 
" 'Ye are both night-birds. My visit in the 
end will be a welcome one. I have brought 
 ou 
a hundred pounds from )'our husband." 
"Donnez!" said the lady, coolly, and held out 
her hand. 
" Not so fast. I know your capacity for ab- 
sorbing money. Certain conditions, and not 
very hard ones, are attached to this advance. 
1Ye, that is monsieur," he was respectful to the 
dandy even in his absence, "must not be annoyed 
for six months." 
" And 
'ou offer a miserable hundred pounds P 
C'est peu." 
"It is all we can give. Business has 110t beea 
prosperous, Times are very hard with us; and 
even this hundred pounds can be ill spared," 
" I dare say. Times also are very hard with me. 
But tell me, :Monsieur I' Ambassadem, has mv 
precious husband any funds of his own?" 
" Not a sou. He ate up his patrimony) ears 
ago." 
" Have you?" 
Constant shrugged his shoulders. " .What 
can a poor domestique at wages be worth?" he 
replied. 
"Then it is stolen money. You lJave stolen 
this hundred pounds. Keep it. I will not 
have it." 
"H) pocrite ! Your mouth is watering for it, 
and you only wish that it were ten times as 
much. No, madame, it is not money stolen; it 
Ï3 money won." 
"By cheating?" 
" As ) ou please. I have it here, in five-pound 
notes." .. 
"Gi,,"e it me, then. I don't think my husband 
has yet devoted himself to forgery. He has not 
application enough. You may tell him from me 
that I shall not trouble him again for six months." 
".What are you going to do with your milord?" 
the valet asked, with a darkling look. 
"C'est mon affaire. But if you must know 
what I mean to do with milord, then by Debon- 
nail' it is to bleed him for the good of his consti- 
tution. 11 a trop de sang, ee moutard-Ià." 
" He is not of age." 
"The usurers are kind to him." 
"You do not love him?" 
"Did I ever love anybody, J can Baptiste 
Constant? It is growing very late. I think. you 
had better give me the money and let me go to 
bed." . 
He handed her a packet of notes. 
"Thank you. It is not much, though." 
" Good night, V alérie." 
"Hun P" quoth the wild animal, with a look 
of simula1 ed surprise, but profound disdain. 
"Since when, Monsieur who brushes my hus- 
band's clothes ?" 
" Good night, 11rs. Blunt, then." 
"The Honourable Lady Blunt, you mean!" 
but this last 5he said in mockery, "Be sure 
-ou 
give my love to my husband." 



Cl:....I.r..JI r 


..] 


U L Till' YF AU ROC"\"D. 


D ..h 28, if 
 11 7 


"I ,,'ill g-i\"e him as n ueh 1 L3 '\ou spud 
him; and 
hall not waste much b.
3t1;. Ab in 
good ni
ht." 
.. Good night, my bf'ar." 
Ht' had ne'\er taken n Slat durilo the int,.,.- 
vie", but had half !!'t.,oo, b
lf 10 '"0 "ii, aga n..t 
the c nsole on \\ hich he h.1d placed bill hat. 
Without dirt "ting notJ. r g:anee to lanls hf'l, 
he left the room. His face h1.d tm ued white, 
..lllli he was trembliv,; all 0\ ere .But he had great 
command over his emotioW!, and b
 the time he 
reached the salle à manger his c\-.unteJ._nce was 
as unruffled as ever. 
Rata}-l..n had 
one to be I. Co nt, ho" ever, 
waJ an old habitue of the house, and made him- 
self comf<.rtol.ble with the female night-porter, La 
Mère Thomas. He "as no smoler; but she 
brl .. "d him some mulled claret, of which he par- 
tool in moderation. And so reulained, after a 
game or two at dOJUilloe a \\ ith the mahogany- 
coloured scntinel, uutil past four in the morning-. 
His com ersation \\ a;s mainlj about the "coun- 
te
b" and her temper. 


CHAPTER XIII. TO G..BllUL ,1;. s. 
G.ummGE'S Hotel was in Pump-street, Re- 
gent-stref't. Gawridge's \\ as much frequented 
by the junior mcmbers of the ari
tocrac
, .1nd by 
officers bearing his 
rajest}'s commi

ion. G,lm- 
ridge's was the legitimate and liueal successor of 
the old Slaughter's Coffee-house in St. 
Iartin's 
lane: of "hose ancicnt waiter and ) OUD
 militaJ) 
frequenters Thackeray's Vanity :.Fair disconrses 
delightfully. Gamridge's, in 183&, was at the 
apogee of its popularity and renown; but, a fc\v 
}ears afterwards-such is the mutability of 
human aff,\irs-Gamridge's was destined to be 
eclipsed by the nag and Famish. 
"\\' 1Iy" Rag" and why" }'amish"? I, as a poor 
slouching ci\ ilian, am not, I hope, bound to 
lnow. The Rag and Famish secms to me a 
me- t palatial edifice, superb in all its cxterior 
appointmcnts. I have heard that its inner 
chambers are decorated in the most la\ ish style 
of Oriental splendour; that its smoling-room 
vies in 
rg"eommess with the Court of the Lions 
at the Alhambra; that, in its drawing-rooms, the 
genius of the most eminent upholsterers in Lon- 
dOll has run riot. N obod) c"\n be in rags, no- 
body can possibly be famished, at the R. and F. 
The cuisine, 1 have heard, is e
quisitc, the wines 
and liquors are beyond compare. The lightest- 
I vcsted and brightest-buttoned foot-pa
es in the 
parish of :St. James's gambol anù grin behind the 
plate-glass doors. 'The most m'ljestic and the 
longest - moustached military bricks pufl' their 
cigars on the steps. There are always balf a 
dOZl'll Hansoms in waiting before the portal. 
On the Derby Da), draps by the score start from 
the Ua.6'. The prizes in the race sweeps at the 
Ibg a.e SoÜd to be enormous. 
Let me .. p what is the pay of a .lb LItcm in 
thc Lin ? 
omc '"e\ nt) or eb'ht} pf)un' a 
 car, 
I bcbe\ P. "h t is the half-p lY of general 
officer? Not ll...ny hundreds per awlUlll, I am 


afraid. It ttIkl S I Ie tl the e ablishment 
nn only of tne .H , but of he e[ r 
ßd J unio: 
Unit d 
ervice C'ub, rou t ha\e b 'n an in- 
e timable boon to the )oung warriors who are 
r ady to fight their countl')"s baUl,.s, and to the 
old brd\es "ho ha\e fO.lght them, and retired to 
g-ra..'" and who helme 5 are now hives for bees. 
To li\ e like a fighting-cock, and to be housed 
lile a prince; to have all the ne" 
paper3 
and periodicals, and a first-rate library; billiard 
and smoling rOOIllS, b hs and lavatorie , loung- 
ing and elbo I-re ling room; a numer\-.us staff 
of silent, ci\ iI, and deferential seITauts in im. 
posing li\ erips, and &5 lUuch stationery as ever 

 u ",ant j thl, a.e jO)3 familiar to thl m mbers 
of the .Rag, and of other co
uate mauions. The 
)OUllg fellow on aCtive service c n run up from 
Chatham or Alder hot, aud have thc fre,- range 
of a Venetian palace till his leave is out. The 
b,lttercd half-pay h but to provide him'tllfwith 
a bedroom at 11 If a guin..a a \\"1 e\.. in Jern . n- 
street, or St. Alban's-place, dud, from nine of the 
doc\.. on one morning till two or three of the 
clock on th
 next, he may live as luxurion ly as 
a ::;ultan of Cathay. The annual subsrription is 
moderate. The table-monev is inconsiderable. 
Beer, bread, and piclles are dispe. sed gratui- 
tousl)". The ei"'ars are foæign. The provisions 
and winc,", arc supplied at ratM \ery little ex- 
ceeding cost price. 
Whereas, 1 c1.n't see what a civilian \\ anto; wit h 
a club at all. He has a home, which the boldier 
and sailor, as a rule, have not. He has a C')()k at 
home. He may refeet himself in a decorous 
Jining-room at home. If he "ants bools, let him 
subscribe to the London LihraQ, C'r asl :Mr. 
Panizzi for a ticket for thc 
Iuseum He Ldin lY - 
room. lie need') no slllo\"ing--room. Civiliar.j 
ha\ c no ri
ht to smo\..e. He needs no bill.:aro- 
room. Civilians should be men of busine ", an I 
men of business h
\e no right to pla
 billiard. 
" Clubs," says Solomon Buck, in one of his wi.. ..t 
apophthegms, "arc weapons of offence, wielded by 
s
\ages for the purpose of leeping off the white 
women." S. B. is right. Clubs, for }tJurdashi
_, 
rollicking, harum-scarum soldiers and sailors, al
 
all \cry well. The gallant fellOt

 need a little 
relro..ation after the irksr-ne restraints of bar- 
rac\..s or ship-board; but dubs, to thc wl'worthy 
civilic\Il cl."\Ss, are merely the lTIeanc
t rrf'
exts 
for selfishne J and self-indulgcllce. 
Ha\'in
, I fhUer m)::!elf, in thc precedhf!' p"U'a- 
graph, set 111) self right" ith the ladies (\\ Inm I 
am alwa) s tl1 ing to cUllciliatr' and alwn
:t Ull- 
SHCCf' sCully), I "illl)rOCI ",d tù the (ùn;:)iJcrntiun 
of Gamridl!e's. Soc''ll clubs of the palati I order 
"ere rare in 1
36. St. JRme
... had ib nclu i\e 
political reunions- "\\11ite's, Brooh s, Boc'" !, 
and the li\..e; but nrne we the elr to tb.. el ..t 
could obtain ndml
 )ion to them. Cr ....Jrtl's 
was vel") fashioDdble, but it was a .....min_ 'I 
The Carlton wasn't bUllt. The \. t I 1 and 
the Reform ""Cre arro :mt wi.h tl e flu lof the 

Iarch of IlltcUt ) amllwJ\.l d de ,n u "the 
mcn of the sword. The mcmb
rs oi ..he now 



148 [March 26, 1864.] 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


defunct Alfred were quarrelling a
nong them- 
selves. The United Service only admitted officers 
of high grade. What remained, then, for the 
:} oung or middle-aged warriors but Gamridge's ? 
Gamridge's was not a club; its coffee-room 
was open to an comers; yet the character of 
its frequenters was so strongly marked, that 
an outsider rarelr, if ever, ventured to set 
foot within the mysterious preciI'cts. A bag- 
man who presumed to enter Gamridge's would 
have had a uad time of it. There would have 
been ,,-ailing in Lal1cashirf:', if a :Manchester 
man had so far forgotten himself as to in- 
trude, uniuvited, on the Gamridgean exelu- 
siveness. In its distinctive tYl)ificatiol1, and 
its invisible but impassable barriers, Gam- 
ridge's resembled one of the old coffee-houses of 
the preceding century. They, too, were open 
to all; yet )"ou seldom found any but merchants 
at Garraway's or Jonathan's, soldiers at the 
Crowu in 1VhitehalJ, gamesters at Sam's in 
St. James's-street, country squires at the Star 
and Gal"ter in Pan 
IaU, Jacobites at the Harp 
at CornhilJ, booksellers' hacks at the Devil in 
Fleet-street, law)ers at the Cock, and publishers 
at the Ball in Long-acre. 
There had never, in the memory of the 
oldest inhabitant of the parish, been a Gamridge. 
'Vho he was, if ever he were at all, there is no 
knowillg. In '36 the landlord-landlady, rather 
-was :Mrs. Vash: a handsome portly widow, 
who wore bishop's sleeves, and a multitude of 
ribbons in her cap. She had many daugbtCls, 
whom she kept scruplùously at boarding-school 
to preserve them from the perils of Gamridge's; 
for, if the "wild prince" was dead "Poins" was 
about, wilder than ever. :Mrs. Vash ,,,as a 
woman of t he world. A few, a very few, of 
I: her oldest customers-old gentlemen who had 
been so long and so consistently raking about 
; ;: I town that they seemed, on the principle of 
extremes meeting, almost steady-were some- 
times admitted to the luxurious privacy of )Irs. 
Vash's bar-parlour. She was an excellent judge 
of port wine, and, being a generous hostess, 
would occasionally treat some of her prime 
favourites to a bottle with a peculiar tawny seal. 
, In the coffce-room l\Irs, Vash tolerated cigars, 
and carefully charged nine pence apiece for them. 
She was equally careful to charge exorbitant 
prices for every article consumed. You might 
gi,-e a dinner now-a-da
's at the Rag, for what a 
breakfast cost at Gamridge's. 
The politics of Gamridge's were High Tory in 
tone. The true blue patrician class had lost 
, much power and influence by Catholic Emanci- 
pation and the Reform Bill, aud threw themselves 
for a challge into dissipation, Liberal Conserva- 
tives had not :}-et perked up into existence. 
Among the '''higs and Radicals it was held to be 
the orthodox thing, just then, to be steady and 
sober, to bring in moral acts of parliament, to 
attend lectures at the Ro

al Institution. The 
I Tories sneered contemptuously at education and 
morality. They were staunch churchmcn, but in 


the "flying buttress" sense, like Lord Eldon, 
supporting the sacred edifice from the outside. 
They called the London University "Stinkoma- 
lee," or the "Gower-street Pig and 'Vhistle." 
They held schools where the birch was not in daily 
use, as the vilest hotbeds of sedition, and were 
careful to send their c11ildren to seminaries where 
they knew they would have plenty of flogging in 
the good old Tory style. The society at Gam- 
ridge's was a permanent protest against the 
Penny 1IIagazine, and the steam engine, and the 
pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, and the 
educational whimsies of your Broughams, Ben- 
thams, Faradays, De :Morgans, and compeers, 
Nothing useful, save eating and drinking, was 
ever attempted at Gamridge's; and even those 
elementary functions were performed in the 
manner most calculated to confer the least 
amount of benefit on the human frame, The 
guests breakfasted at three in the afternoon, and 
dined at midnight. Gas blazed in the coffee- 
room at noon, and knocked-up roués went to bed 
at tea-time, There were many white-faced 
waiters who never seemed to go' to bed at all, 
and to like this perpetual insomnolence. Pale 
ale was unknown in England then, but the 
popping' of corks from bottles of mineral waters 
was audible all day long. Dice, only, 
Irs. Vash 
rigidly refused to wiuk at. "If gentlemen, who 
were gentlemen," she remarked, "wanted to call 
a main, they must do it in the parish of st. 
James's, and not in the parish of St. George's.'" 

Irs. Vash was one of the old school, and liked 
to see things done in their proper places. 
It was a vicious time, and yet somewhat of 
the patriarchal element remained. Plebeian dis- 
sipation was confined to the youngsters. The 
old gentlemen went to the Deuce, mounted 011 
steady:unblingcobs, A new race of rakes drove 
them gradually from the coffee-room at Gam- 
ridge's, and Mrs. Vash's back p:1rlour, where 
they piped disparagement of the rapscallion age 
over their port with the tawny seal. Thence by 
slow degrees they subsided into Pump-street, 
and to Bath, and Cheltenham, and Fogeydom, and 
weut home to bed, and fell parabtic, and so died. 
:Mr. Francis Blunt walked into Gamridge's at 
about a quarter to one in the moming, with a 
light tight-fitting overcoat buttoned over him, 
swinging his cane, and looking, on the whole, "as 
fresh as paint." The coarseness of the simile may 
find an excuse in its literal fidelity. A fresh pair 
of lemon-eoloured kid gloves decorated his hands, 
the many rings bulging from beneath the soft 
leather. His whiskers had been rearranged- 
perhaps those ornaments and his hair were not 
strangers to a recent touch from the cmling- 
irons, for there were hairdressers in the Quadrant 
who kept open till past midnight for the behoof 
of exquisites such as he-his clothes had been 
brushed, his whole exterior spruced and polished 
up. He had passed a hard day, but he was ready 
to begin a night as hard. 
There was nothing particular about the C"'\:- 
terior of Gamridge's. It was a George-the- 



ALL Till: YF An 1:01 Xl). 


- I 
[la.n 1 'i64.] I.;.!) 


Charles Dicken..] 


Second mansion of sad-coloured brick with stone 
drc sings, and the lamp before the door \HI'I 
generally in a state of compound fracture from 
the exuberant pla)fnlness of late-returning 
guests. "Lamp-glass broken, one pound fh r," 
\\ as a common item in Mrs. \ ash's long hills_ 
"\, hen tile late-returning lodgers diùn't slllash the 
lamp, they sluashed the f,mlight, or the 'ioda- 
"ater tumblers, or the coffee-loom panels, or 
thc waiter
' heads. They were alwa}s Im'aL.ing 
something, and everything- \\ as ehalg-ed in the 
bill. "lou f'ntered G,lmlidge's b} a long, low, 
oblique passage, seemingly specially designed 
for the bcnefit of grlltlemCll \\ ho came home 
1atr, overtaken with liquor, find s"erved in their 
gait. They could not well tumble down in their 
progress along that sportin
 pa!'sage. The 
coft'ee-room was almost devoid of decoration. 
Had it been papered, the gentlemen" ould have 
torn the pap('r off; had there been a pier-glass, 
somebody would have smashed it, but, as pier- 
glasses then cost h enty pounds, the item might 
have been subject to incom enient dispute in the 
bili. So, to be on the safe side, .Mrs. Yash })ro- 
vided her guests with a thick circular mirror 
in a nubbly frame, \\ hieh defied e\ en a IJoker. 
En re\ anehe, the gallant 
ouths who frequented 
the coffee-room had scratched their names on 
it, as \\ ell as on the window-panes, in a hundred 
places, with their diamond rings. 
There was an immense dumb-waiter. The 
tables were of mahogany, brightly polisheù; 
wax candlesticks, in sih cr sconces, \\ ere ah\ ays 
used, to the disdainful exclusion of gas-and 
with one of those same candlesticks many a tall 
fellow had been laid 10\\ - but the floor \\ as 
sanded, and triangular spittoons were dispersed 
I about. It \\ as the oddest combination of lux.ul)' 
and coarseness, of a club-room and a pot-house. 
In this room, a dozen of the greatest dandies 
ill England were assembled. Some had fifty 
1 ' 1 thousand a year, and some had nothing, and 
owed thrice fift
. thousand pounds; but, poor 
or rich, all were fashionable. It was a congre- 

ation of prodigal sons and prodigal fathers, but 
I f:\thers and sons \\ ere both accustomed to sit in 
II the high places, and to have room made for them. 
1YORKI
G :ME
'S CLUBS. 


TIlE mechanic is "a \"ery clubable man." 
The man of wealth and leisure joius a club for 
luxury's sake; the middle-class man, for the 
most part, does not belon
 to one at all, as 
his life is pretty nearly dIvided beÌ\\een his 
place of huslllc')s and his family; but the work- 
mg man is almost sure to be a member of some 
benefit society, or other bod\, "hieh requires a 
place of meeting, aud he >has a natu! al and 
proper appetite for social intercourse, "hich 
cannot be indulged in Lis small, home. Prac- 
tically, he has always had his club, holding 
his busines3 mertings and .10\ ial reunions at a 
public-hou!!e. This has Jed tù a great deal of 
unnecessary drinking, and the object of ,,- ork- 


in!; 
Ien's Clubs is to prO\ide e\ery Carility 
úffered by the public-house, \\ ithout the tempte!> 
tions iu!!eparable from the landlord's rooms. 
The " orkin
 Men's Club is, in some measure 
an offsprin
 o(the mechanics' institute of thirtý 
\ ears U!;O, tmt it proposes to do hoth more anù 
Ie..>). Though including" classes for edue"tioual 
purposes, it is not so severely scientilie as its 
predeces
or, and it has a g-reater e)e to recrea- 
tion and bu!!iness. Origlllatin; in tlle Tempe- 
rance movement, it has llQW outgrowu all sec- 
tional limitations, and, \\ hi Ie powerfully aiding 
the reformation of the \\orking man, where he 
is prone to excess, it is not a mere agent or in- 
strument of the teetotallcrs. One of the earliest 
of these instit utions \\ as the Stormont liouse 
'rorkin
 Men's Association, started at Kottin
 
Hill in 1853; but this, as well as .. the Hall," 

itualed in the district commonly called the 
Kensington Potteries, is rather a centre of re- 
ligious and tempelanee action than a cluh in the 
ordinar} sense of the word. At the f011ner, 
smokin
 and games are prohibited, \\ hile the 
latter has now no regular membcrs, but is 
simply let out for the use of beliefit and other 
societies, for the delivery of Jectures, for prayer 
meetings and devotional services, and for occa- 
sional dioramas, &c. The llall was set on foot. 
in April, ISIJl, and Cor some time "as more 
club-like in its character; but the "cekly, qual- 
lerly, and yearly subscription system was not 
found to answer, and is now abandoned. Ten 
) cars earlier, some of the worJ.ing" men of Soho 
and the vicinity started 
 club on teetotal 
principles, which failed on account of the l"e- 

trietions it imposed. The more acti\ e mem- 
bers of this tiody, ho\\ever, have since set 
up another club ill Crown-street, St. Giles's, on 
a freer and more inviting plan, and this is stiU 
battling with the difficulties "hich generally 
beset such attempts in their early days. rlhe 
R} e Harbour Club, situated some two miles 
from Rye, was also one of the first established 
of thebe institutions. It \\ as projected in 1 S5j, 
and the club-house \Hts erected in the follo\\ing 
year, at an expense of one thousand pounds, 
\\ hich "as entirely borne by .Mr. '\. D. Lueas- 
Shad" ell, of }'airlight, near Hastings. The 
persons for \\ hose benefit it \\ as desigued \\ en 
the men employed at the harbour \\Ol"kS. The 
house contains dormitories Cor 
uch of the 
members as choose to use them, and the build- 
in
 is surrounded by a \\ ell-1..ept llower-gardeu. 
Temperance and relig-ious meetings are held 
here, and discussions are dllowed, but the sub- 
jects must be submitted beforehand to the l)rt:- 
sident, the Rev. 
Ir. Churtoll, examining chaplain 
to the Bishop of Chicuc:>ler, and \ icar of leI-Ie - 
ham. The same 
lr. bhad"ell has recently in- 
terested hirnbclf in the creation of a clu'b at 
Hastings, which has this p
culiar and nry 
democratic fl'ature-t hat all the gentlemen 
members, including the ma)"or, ale regul.1r 
weekly sub
eribers at hopence. . 
In Ib55, a elug was established at Liltiemorc, 
near 01.ford, by the H(
. G. n. liuntin ford, 
the gO\ernment of which, as that gentleman 



I 1:; 0 
II · 


pIo.rch 26, 1864.] 


AI
L THE YEAR ROUND. 


says in an account he has written of its opera- 
tion, was "oligarchical, with a dash of des- 
potism." This is very often the case in sma)] 
country tow-ns and villa
es, where working men, 
conscious of their want of e>..perience in bwsi- 
ness affairs, are glad to place themselves under 
I the guidance of the local clergyman or squire. 
In some places, specific religious opinions are 
I ; required as an indispensable condition of memo 
bership. Eut in others, the artisans and la- 
I bourers have taken the matter into their own 
I hands with admirable effect. A remarkable 
, I instance of this is presented by the club recently 
inaugurated and now flourishing at "\Vednesbury, 
!, I a little town in the iron manufacturing districts 
of Staffordshire. The institution was first pro- 
posed at t he commencement of la
t year; but 
the gentlemen who made the suggestion, or who 
promised to patronise it, slumbered over the 
work, and the mechanics, getting tired of wait- 
ing, set their shoulders to the wheel, rented a 
house on their own responsibility, furnished it 
with everything necessary for such an under- 
taking, and obtained so many members that, 
although the rooms were only opened on the 
30th of :May, 1863, the club has for some 
months past been entirely self-supporting, with 
no other receipts than the subscriptions of its 
members and the sale of provisions within its 
walls. The subscriptions are twopence a week 
and two shillings a quarter, the honorary nwm- 
bel's giving a yearly donation of a guinea. The 
number of members at the commencement was 
a hundred, but they increased so rapidly that it 
,,,as soon found necessary to take larger and 
better premises, and the club now rents the old 
Town Hall at forty-five pounds per annum. 
Judging from the information we possess, we 
should say that a more perfect specimen of 
the genuine "\V orking Men's Club cannot be 
found anywhere. The committee and all the 
governing officers belong to the industrial 
classes; members and subscription! are can- 
vassed for every Monday morning at the fac- 
tories, and the rent of the building is guaranteed 
by the men themselves. In other places such 
undertakings have generally been set going by 
some benevolent lady or gentleman of fortune, 
nnd then handed over to the management of the 
members, subject to a few general conditions. 
This is the case at the village of Charlton :Mar- 
sha]), Dorsetshire, where :Mr. Horlock Bastard 
inaugurated an institution for labourers, contri- 
buted largely to the funds, and presently left the 
'I men to govern themselves as they thought fit, 
! though with certain provisoes, which are to be 
I permanently observed. The patron of the new ly- 
formed club at Eastbourne (Mr. 1riHiam Leaf) 
stipulates that all intoxicating drinks, betting, 
gambling, profanity, and dancin
 - a r8;tller 
strange assortment of offences-shall be strIctly 
prohibited, and that the lecture-room shall be 
used for the advocacy of total abstinence from 
intoxicating drinks two evenings in each week. 
An attempt was made to introduce greater free- 
dom into the constitution of the club, but it 
failed. The managing committee of this insti- 


[Conducted by 


tution is partly composed of the resident gentry. 
It is curious to see how in these cases the pecu- 
liar fancies and antipathies of the patron creep 
out, wit}
 that craving which many excellent 
people display for tying down all those over 
,,,hom thev bave an) influence to their own 
standard òf right and wron!!', even in matters 
whicll are generally allowed to be debataù}e. 
One gentleman l'Ooks upon indulg'encc in fer- 
mented liquors as the root of all evil; so drink- 
ing is not allowed on the premises. Another 
thinks smoking the most deleterious of mortal 
habits, and therefore tohacco is as strictly pro- 
hibited as if James the First were t.he guardian 
genius. :Mr. Bastard sets his face against both 
indulgences, and the labourers of Charlton :Mar- 
shall must go for their pint. and their pipe else- 
"here. This is surely an error. A club so 
founded is based on the mere whims of an indi- 
vidual, and cantlot successfully address human 
nature in the general, or hope to last after t.he 
nO\'eIty has worn out. To endeavour thus to erect 
one man's practice into a rigid law for others is 
as bene\'olent1y arbitrary as the conduct of that 
gentleman in an eating-house who, seeing a 
sU:anger disposing of his steak without mustard, 
and having ineffectually offered the condiment 
h"o or three times, with a remark that it was 
usual to accompany aU forms of beef \\ith that 
relish, at length roared out, as he dashed the 
mustard-pot dov,n before the astonished diner, 
"Hang it, sir, you shall eat mustard with steak !" 
The only way to avoid this species of dicta- 
tion (most kindly in its motive, and often 
exerci.sed by admirable men, but very injudi- 
cious as it seelUS to us) is for the working 
classes to establish their own clubs, and keep 
the management of them in their own hands. 
In large to\' llS, artisans may do all that is 
necessary fo1' themselves, if they only resolve to 
work in a spirit of cheerful brotherhood, and 
to abstain from personal rivalry and exa
gerated 
self-assertion. It must he admitted that in one 
or two instances they have failed, 0\\ ing to a 
"'ant of the habits of cohesion and mutual con- 
cession - a conspicuous fault of t.he working 
classes, and the cause of much of their weak- 
ness. A club established at Leeds was originally 
managed by a committee of its own members; 
but. dissensions ensued, and the ,,-ealthy and 
benevolent founder of the institution felt it 
advisable to take the g-overnment into his own 
hands. In many instances, however, these 
clubs are really under the control of working 
men, and are going 011 successfully. rl'he great 
difficw.lty is at the outset; for an undertaking of 
this kind cannot be initiat.ed without the expen- 
diture of a rat her Im"ge sum of moncy. 
To enable humble people to get over this 
first stumbling-block, a body was established in 
the autumn of 1862, under the designaT>Íon of 
the 1V orking l\len's Club and Institute Union, 
of which the president is no less a man than 
Lord Brougham, with a 101]g list of notable 
persons for the vice-presidents. The acti\'e 
soul of this association C",hich has its offices at 
150, Strand) is the secretary, the Uev. Mr. 



[..Jarù1 . I 


]
I 


ALL THE YEA It I
OU
D. 


Ct."ul I .enL] 


IIenrv Silly; nd tllerl can be no d ubt that 
the movement throughout the country durin
 
the p t year has been gTntly acceler"h:d by 
the zeal and devotion of t.hiB gentleman, and of 
those who have acted with hun. The precise 
objects of the society are-to plac the advan- 
tages of the e clubs prominently before the 
public,-to assist ill tùeir formation byad\ice, 
.\nd (where nec(''!Sary) by grants or loans of 
money for first expenses, as \\en as books, 
Ijames, diagram-, fi'tturc.J, &c.,-and to help the 
local committe in the work of g'overnment 
untillhe new undertakin
 is sufficicntly matured 
to go 
one. So little, howe\ er, does the U Ilion 
seel to Cetterindividual action,lhat, while enter- 
taining a strong feelin
 against the sa1c of beer 
in such places, it has content ed itself 
 ith 
I !:limply recommending a rule for its prohibition, 
and does not refuse its support to any elub 
dcclinin
 t.o adopt that rule. In some cases, 
\\ here the sale has been originally allowed, the 
local committees have on their own motion 
rescinded the perD\i
'5ion: not, as \'r e under- 
stand, because any grave evils resulted from the 
license, but because it was found not to harmo- 
Jlise with the main objects of a 'V orking Man's 
Club, which are instruction and recreation. 
During the past year tbe Union \Vas instrumentdl 
in establislung more than forty clubs; and from 
thirty to forty weekly applications for advice 
and assistance are still being' received at the 
central office. In the metropolis and its suburbs, 
the I.:nion is in relation with clubs at Bethna!- 
grcen, I3ishopg
ate, Hrentford, Bromley-by- 
Bow, Canning Town, Crown-street (S1. Giles's), 
Duck - lane (WestnÜnster), Fitzroy '\'orls 
(Euston-road), Forest Hill, lIi
hgate, Hollo- 
way, llomerton, Hounslow, h.entish TowD, 
Peckham, Pentonville, St. Clement Danes, S1. 
:Martin's-in-the-:Fields, Shorcditeh, Southwad.., 
Victoria Docks, Walthamstow, Walworth, and 
,r and
worth, nnd probably by this time with 
others, for the number increases so rapidly that 
it is impossible to fix it for more than a few 
days at any gi\ en point. The provincial clubs 
affiliated to the Union are so numerous that the 
lUere mention of their names would be tedious. 
In addition to these, there arc clubs, both in 
to\\n and country, \\hich are not in any way 
connected with the body presided over by Lord 
Brougham; but they are in the minority. The 
operation
 of the Union during Ibô3, were con- 
lÌucted at the very small cost of 'iOOl., thc 
f'!?retary ha\"in
 done a lar
e part of his work gra- 
t Ultously. This sum chiefly accrued from dona- 
tion
, for the reQular income has not exceeded 
Ij(Jl. The association is now seriously hampered 
JI r \\ant of funds, and an appeal to the public 
for assistance has been madc by Lord Lyttelton, 
fine of the vice-presidents. It is an appeal which 
we trust \\ ill be libcr ",IIy ans\vered by all who 
have money to spare. 
The constitution of 'V orking "\Ien'
 Clubs 
I n cessarily varies, in some of its details, in dif- 
I I j 'rent places, for a rigid uniformity is neither to 
I expected nor de!:lired; but certain genenl 
I l katures are to be found in most of them. The 


club-house contain.; a commLn rooJl f(,r CC...t'... 
s"1tÏJn, new papers, 1'1 frcshmcnts, aLd 
 
a libl".!Ty, a smoking-oro ..D, and ro 3 for eduu- 
tional classf'1, for thf' busim, -m t:1inf )f 11 
committee, for trao.'IacLm- the affairs of ft.ÏellulY 
societies, &c., for lecture!, concf'Tts, parb J, 
and miscellaneous amusements. In th" Cf' lß' rv, 
a cricket.ground is often attached, and, enu .n 
London, space is sometimes foulld for playing 
at skittles and ninepins. The subscript:on, in 
S0l1e ca...es, is as low as a halfpenny'" WI k, in 
others a penn v , but is m(,le conHl only tWl. 1 nL . 
while, in a few i.n.stanct...B, it b ill highf'r. 
There are also, in most plac , quart rly, 
balf-yearly, and yearly subscription::., by each ot 
which a small proportionate sa\ing is effected 
on the lower sum. Generally speaking, no elee- I 
tion of members or payment. of entrance-fee ill I 
required; but some few clubs demand both 
these guarantees. The house. in the 
reater 
number of cases, is kept open from ei...ht in th 
morning until ten or clevcn at night; Sl. De in- 
stitutions, however, only open ill the eveLÍnz, 
after '\\ ark-hours. Anyone may enter at a J 
time by pa:in
 the \\eekly subscription, and, as 
the great object is to make the working man 
feel as much at home as he does in tùe taproom 
of the public-house, the rough worling dre.. is 
no disqualification whatever. The nrtú>an or 
labourer may go to the club in his àirt, a
 the 
e
pressive phra
e is, and he will find a la\ator1, 
in which he may male himself tidy and com- 
fortable for the evening. .When he III. done 
tillS, he cau turn into the bar, and 
et his cup 
of coffee and bread-and-butter, or, If lu" 1 a 
steak or a rasher of bacon with him, he c...u 
it cooked on the premises for a mere trifle. Uti 
this head, we may mention an e3tCcllent su:-_ 
tion made by Mr. :Forster, 1LP., at a I 1.Í11", 
held at Bradford a few months ago. He I r_ 

sted t he establishment, in COfine1Ïon w h 
these clubs, of a eo-oper:ltive hotel-a pu 
litchen for the working chs
es, such 
 L" 
already been started by themsehes in vel 
places. The large room, he observed, m I ..
 be 
a lit chen during the day, .md a reading-r<.. .Il a 
ni[.dIt. Dinners, if \\e mistale not, a.e e 
n 
no\V supplied at n few of thcse in titUt:Ol...; ",t 
the Hollowav Club, s .ne of the members brt...k- 
fast on the . premises, and a coal club has hf-en 
formed for the purchase of coals at a reduced 
rate; but these examples should be more widely 
followed, {or workmen's clubs will succct:d or 
fail in proportion as they more or less com- 
pletely sati:l) the legitimate \\ ants of the c s 
thev address. 
'i'Lle social wants are very \Tell supplietl al- 
ready. The nlember may, if he please, " ep i... 0 
the smoling-room and enjoy hb pipe; <... Le can 
read the newspaper or a bool..; or be c. n puy a 
game at draughts, che ,5, dominae. !!.o "t....re" or 
skittles; or he call attend a cl.......s for III metl >n 
in some useful branch of kuo\\lei l re, or a IUru-U 
for political. debate; while, on spe<" 'Ll ." 1.. , 
he is entert.uned by concertJ, lec
ur(" ! a v,l r 
amusements, to which he ma) brl1lg u
 ,.. ... 
chùwcn. With re;:,f 'ct to the \\..ve , tL
.. 



====ïl 
[Conducted by 


132 pIo.rch 26,1864.] 


ALL THE YEAR HOUND. 


opinion seems to be decidedly in favour of the 
club. They say it does not draw their husbands 
from home; it only tah.es them from the public- 
house, and seuds them home in better temper, 
and "ith more money in their poc1.ets. 'rhe 
members of friendly societies and the like who 
hold their committee-meetings at taverns, are 
almost compelled to drink, for" the good of the 
house." At the club they are under no such 
obligation, and the saving of money alol1e is an 
advantage not to be disregarded. 
The largest of the London clubs, and perhaps 
the most interesting, on account of the various 
schemes el1grafted on it, is the one established 
in Duck-lane, \f estminster. The neighbourhood 
is one of the poorest and most squalid in the 
metropolis, thougà not far from the Hew line of 
splendid houses, Victoria-street. All who have 
penetrated the slums that congregate about the 
Abbey know the ugly sights and sounds, and 
I the unsavoury exhalations, of that wilderness of 
poverty and vice-the rotten old houses, the 
muddy wa
 s, the scowling population of bru- 
talised men and shrewish women, lounging' at 
I I the doors and windows, or wrangling on the 
pavement. It is a great place for costermongers, 
II who are not generally the most civilised of men; 
I and has acquired a disgraceful notoriety as the 
haunt of those "Tetched women who are the 
calise of so much evil to our household troops, 
Of course, there is also a good deal of honest 
poverty and hard, ill-requited labour in the 
district; and, in every respect, it is one which 
peculiarly demands the attention of the philan- 
I thropist. Miss Adeline Cooper-a lady who 
I estimates as the highest privilege of her wealth 
" the means of doing good-opened a club in the 
i heart of this neighbourhood in the month of 
I I December, 1860, the expenses of which were 
I mainly borne by herself. She believed that 
there was no better ,,'ay of elevating the lives 
I of the surrounding population than by meeting 
II them in a thoroughly friendly, unassuming 
I I spirit, endeavouring to ans\yer their wants in a 
manner "hich they could understand and ap- 
preciate, and ".inning their cOl1fidence by the 
I absence of any wish to dictate. She even hoped 
I that a class avowedly in'eligious might be 
, brought over to some fórm of faith, if it were 
presented to them in a way which they could 
accept or decline without the least prejudice to 
II the other advantages which they derive from 
the institution. In many respects, she has 
been, singularly successful. A year aftcr the 
I openmg it was found necessary to enlarge the 
I building, and last autumn it was almost en- 
tirely reconstructed, with a view to considerable 
additions. It is now a good sized hall, with 
rooms abovc and below, some of them of ample 
space, and all most efficiently vent.ilated. lts 
members have the benefit of a library (cousisting 
of about three llUudred volumes), a lavatory, a 
common-room, a class-room for education, a 
I room for lectures, and othcr apartments for 
business or pleasure. As a rule, the club is 
only open at night, the members being at their 
work during the day. The subscription is a 


II 


halfpenny a weck, and there is no ntra charge 
for the educational classes, as at most other 
cluhs. The resident manager of the club is the 
only one connected with. It who receives pay; 
and the refreshments, wInch are confined to bis- 
cuits and coffee, "ith ginger-beer in the summer, 
are supplied at cost price. More than six hun- 
dred members are now upon the books; but, as 
there are no subscriptions of greater permanency 
than a week, and as many of the people come 
some weeks, and not others, the number is 
practically very much less-in fact, not half- 
and the receipts are proportionately reduced. 
This limitation of the subscriptions has been 
fouud necessary, owing to the frequent migra- 
tions of the men, The plan originally was to 
demand arrears when a member returned after 
an absence; but the men could not see why 
they should pay when they had not been there. 
It was then arranged that, if a membel' had been 
away more than a month, he should be looked 
on as a new comer; but this induced some to 
stop away that time, so as not to pay the 
arrears, whi]e those who did pay thought it 
hard that they should be the worse oft' for their 
greater conscientiousness. The weekly payment 
was thcn determined on; for, says Miss Cooper, 
in a letter to the prescnt writer, "I wanted the 
menllluch more than the halfpence." Some of 
the poorest, however, are remarkably generous. 
One who has moved to anothcr part of London, 
and cannot use the club, calls regularly in the 
course of the "eek, and renews his t.icket, so 
that he lllay still be a member. Of course, 
with so low a subscription, the club is not very 
select; but it is not desired that it should be. 
On the contrary, it is the wish of Miss Cooper, 
and of all who have interested themselves in the 
establishment of tile house, that an appeal 
should more especially be made to .the very 
poorest and roughest of the surroundmg com- 
munity. No inquiries are made as to the an- 
tecedents of any man who comes with his 
halfpenny, askil1g 1:0 be admitted to the henefits 
of the institution. It is known that many of 
the members have been hard drinkers, and that 
some of them st.ill are; but all that is de- 
manded is, that they conduct themselves with 
decorum while the v are in the building. The 
eleventh rule provides "that no person in a 
state of into
ication be permitted to remain;" 
but we believe the practice is not to disturb 
a man who lIas taken too much, if he keeps 
quiet, and is in no way offensive to good order. 
The object is to reform such persons by purely 
moral influences, and it is wisely hoped that the 
e>..ample of men possessing" more self-respect 
mav lead the offcnder into better ways. This 
coñfidence has been seldom abused. During 
the whole time the club has been open, it has 
vel'y rarely becn found necessary to eject any 
one by force; and the ill-doers have generally 
been very young men, with an obstinate habit 
of using" bad language. Some of these, more- 
over ha,.e afterwards come back and apolo- 
gised. 'The management of the club is in the 
hands of a committee of the men themselves, 



[}I11"".h 28, 1 f.] 


I Cbarlel DIcken!!.] ALl.. THE YEAR nOC
D 
: "ho pay over all the rf'l'cipt9 to )Iiss Cooper. 
I N(lt a single dcfa1cation has at any time oc- 
curred, and the property of tbe club has been 
mn,;t scrupulously respèeted by the individual 
lIIemhers. When we visited the prcmists a 
fe\V weeks ago, we were shown over them bv 
the secrehry, a mnn of excellent sense and 
adtlre"
, thou
h following the humble occupa- 
tion of a hawker. A large proportion of tbe 
mc uhcrs, by the way, consists of men enga
ed 
in street-avocations, C\'en ine1uding crossing- 
s\\ rerer
, though the muster al!-o comprises 
skilled :utisans and tradcsmen. 1n the large 
COIl1l1l0n-r00Il1 at the basement (thirty feet by 
hH'nty-eight in measurcment), wc saw several 
pcr
ons quietly cnjo) in
 their cups of coffee 
Rnd their pipes. On the S!lme level are to 
be found the library, the kitchen, the lavatory, 
and every convenience necessary to the comfort 
of those who attend. Up-<,birs, the committee 
of a Lùan Society was holding a meeting. From 
this ,\",
ociation :is much as 15/. may be bor- 
rowed, Each member may take from one to 
four slmres, at threepence each, and at the end 
of thirteen weeks he is entitled to a loan of 11. 
for every 6s. 6d. subscribed, to be rcpaid (with 
interest at the rate of one shillin
 i 1 the pound) 
by weekly instalments at the ratc of si'tpence in 
the pound for everypouml borrowed, the borrower 
continuing to pay up his shares. In an ad- 
joining room, readin
 and writing lessons were 
going on; and, at a later hour, we saw a small 
class assembled in the pur:mit of a stud ì which 
one would hardly have expected to fim recog- 
llised at 
ll in an institution addressing for the 
most part the humblest orders. .\ few young 
men wcre learnin
 French. The class "as 
started only a few months ago, for the benefit 
of some members who are employed in book- 
sellers' shops and foreign merchånts' offices. 
At the commencement, twenty joined, but the 
number h:!s since fallen to hveh"e. 'Ve are in- 
formed that they male 
ood pro!:,ress, and, as 
the club is in union with the Society of Arts, 
t here is e\ cry guarantce that whate\ er is done 
in the way of education will be we!l donr. It 
is not improbable that some of the l'rrneh 
students "ill enter their names for the ncxt 
e,;:amination of the Socieh. 
Besides the Loan Sociètv, four other boùies 
are held in connexion \\ ith the Duck-lane Club: 
viz. a penny bank, a temperance society (with a 
sick fund for members), a cricket club, and 
I a barrO\v club. Thc last-named is a p'\rticu- 
larly exccllent fund. By subscribing a shilling 
a week, any street salesman belonging to the 
general club may hire 1\ barrow for u,e in his 
trade, and at the end of fifty weels' subscription 
I the vehicle becomes his o\\n property without 
any further payment. The fund was started in 
consequcnce of the high ratf> of intere"t which 
I the costermongers of the district were payin
 
for the hire of their barro"s and trucls, and 
which, of course, in the ordinary way of busi- 
ne
'3, did not ensure possession 
f the prl perly 
after any amount of payment III the 
hape of 
inter<.st. The club, hO\\cver, docs not attend 


simply to the matf'rial want!! of it, membtrs. \ 
tlhort l rayer-meeting take" place on \\ rin ,I 
at mi -day j on Thursday eVt.ninKS 1\ Rlble-'" J 
is held, at which a chapter is re_d ant{ c m- 
mented upon bv a cler
yman; and on SUL
'J 
n rcli
ious service is conducted at night. At- 
tendance at all these ob5" rvances is perfectly 
optional, and the entirc liberty of choice tl us 
left to the men has rr'luItrd in their rr "rdm. 
religion with more respect than mo t of the
 
previously entertained. The numbers who {)O 
to the services are ncverthcle s very small III 
comparison with the total number of memb"rs 
of the club. The radical divergence of the 
labourin
 classes from e t.ablishcd mode,; of faith 
is also shown, not unfrequently, at th Bible 
readin
s. Any auditor being permitted to m .(, 
such objections as occur to him - objections 
which the clcrical rcader answers as best he 
can-several have availed themseh es of the per- 
mission, and some exciting controversies have 
been carried on. 
One of the ,zreat tests of the permanency of 
W orling )[en's Clubs will be, as usual with 
most projects, on the financial ground. Can 
they, or can they not, be. made self-supporting? I 
Undoubtedly there arc difficulties (thou
h it I 
to be hoped not insuperable difficultie...) in thl 
way of this consummation; of which difficulties 
One of the most serious is the migratory life of 
\vorking men, and the consequent unsteadine. 5 
of the subscriptions at anyone place. The 
Duck-lane Institute is the creature of private 
benevolence. it does not pay its own expens 1; 
it does not pretend to do so, or f"xpect to do . 
The munificent foundrea
 is even of opinion thdt 
thcse associations (allowing for a few e
ceptiona, 
owin
 to r eculiar circumstance'!) must always 
part
kc 0 thc nature of charities, for that, If 
the subscriptions are raised above a nominal 
sum, the number of members will be but few. 
In many country towns, however, the number at 
a hi
her rate of weekly payment than lIi
J 
Cooper requires is very much larger. The club 
at Leeds, \vith a subscription of a penny a 
weel, counts from 1500 to 2000 supporteM, 
and has even gone up to 3500 on special ocr1- 
sions. Still, it must be admitted that this dor, 
not pay, and thf' deficiency is made up by the 
founder, )[r. Ihrnton Lupton, who admimsters 
the affairs of the body in the s
irit of a paternal 
despotism. 
\t Brist/)l, a club has been esh- 
blished at a low weekly rate of subscriptlOl, 
which is rapidly attaining a most prosperouJ 
condition. The \\ ednesbury Club, as we have 
already seen, pays its way, and is governed on 
thorou
hly popular principle::! i herc the weekly 
subscription is d'Jllhle tint at Lced
, and four 
times that at Duck-lane. Those who support 
the system of non-payment, arpue that the work- 
ing m'\n is no more degraded I)y going to a club, 
the e'<pen e" of which are mainly borne by 
 n.. 
benevolent lady or 
ent leman, than a middl 
class parC'llt i
 degraded by sending his 
on to 
Christ'., 110 ,)ibl. But there is surely a great 
distinction, as far as the feelin
s are eonccrned 
(and the feelings, rather than the rea
on, arc he 


-- --- 
- - 



ALL THE YEAR ROU
D. 


] 31 pbrch ::!u, 156-1.] 


[Conducted b: 


arbit-ers in such cases), between the impersonal 
muniiìcence of an ancient foundation and the 
direct gift of ]tving people, who are known to 
suffer in pocket for what they do, and who ne- 
cessarily acquire a certain right of control in 
virtue of what they have bestowed. Weare 
most sensible of the large amount of good ef- 
fected bv the Duck-lane Club among a class 
I that is O"ënerally too poor and too unaccustomed 
to suchl?work to help itself; but we 8hould prefer 
to see the working orders, as a rule, in a position 
I of entire independence in this as in other re- 
spects. Five hundred members at twopence a 
week, with a few quarterly and yearly payments, 
I will set one of these clubs on its own legs. 
I Surely this is not too much to expect of artisans 
I and labourers, more espeeially as the expenditure 
is eertain to he accompanied by a saving in many 
unlooked-for ways. 
Unless these clubs are made self-supporting, 
t hey can ne.er be in a position of independence 
from extemal influences-from the caprices of 
well-intentioned tyranny, or the blight of patron- 
age. Institutions for the benefit of "orking men 
should originate among, and be managed by, 
themselves. None but working men know tho- 
roughly what working men want; besides, the 
habit of self-government is in itself no mean 
help towards a higher personal life and a 
greater fitness for the duties of citizenship. 
V\Tith regard to the sale of beer and the chances 
of drunkenness, we would refer to an account, 
published in the :first number of this journal, of 
a rural club where beer is vended without any 
restriction, and with no ill results whatever. it 
should also be borne in mind that sociøJ rest and 
social recreation for the artisan and his family 
are the great objects to be attained in these in- 
stitutions. Too much ambition in the matter of 
education is very likel.v to dø them an injury 
rather than a good. vYhy is the working man, 
of all \Fen in the world, to be perpetually ashamed 
of wis1LÍl1g to be amused and pleased? 


SCHOOLMISTRESS AND ORGANIST. 


"t"XT ANTED, at Christmas, a TnAIXBD AND 
\' " CERTIFIED SCHOOLì\IISTRESS, for a mixed 
I Rural School, to teach Singing and play the Organ. 
Sn.lary 45l., w.ith residence. Apply to the Vicar of 
: , I Grul'nbleton. 
Such was the announcement in the National 
Societv's paper, which, for all I know to the con- 
I trary, .may be found there, with a changed date 
in it, to this day. Miss Sniggles, one of the 
pets of her Majesty's inspectors, had thrown 
Grumbleton into a. fit of excitement by entering 
into an engagement for another situation with- 
out taking advice of anybody, and without let- 
ting' her lorde;, the school committee, 01' what 
,,-as worse, her lady visitors, know a word about 
it. It was of no use to remonstrate with the 
voun"" woman, Drowse said, for she 'Was deter- 
mined, and that too, with his help, to give up at 
Chástma.s the name of Sniggles. Hence hub- 
bub, and advertisement aforesaid. 


Drowse looks harassed and fid
ety. He has 
had twenty letters this morning, he sa)s, all dub- 
bing !Iim Yicar of Grumbleton, all applying for 
the sItuatIOn, and most of them requesting par- 
ticulars, which, he says, he has not tilfle to give. 
B?t if the 1ìrst post brings such a packet, what 
will not the subsequent posts bring, as the 
advertisement gets through t.he pickets of 
readers into the thick of the great scholastic 
host? H Look here," says Drowse, spreading 
the heap of letters before me. H Three damsels 
from Scotland, all for coming south, 'Yelsh 
girl, can sing and play the harp. A harp isn't 
an organ. Can't make out the adJress. Nine con- 
sonants and t \vo vo" els in it. Look at this one : 
" , Rev. Sir,-Being an unfJrotecled female, 
twenty.six years of age, shall feel obliged by 
your informing me whether the school-house is 
in a lonely situation, or near the churchyard; 
whether you l>rovide fuel, and", hat number of 
childl'en in average attendance? If suitable, I 
would apply for the cituation, and would give 
you enry satisfaction if elected. 
" 'Yours most humbly, 
" 'MARTHA DUNK. 
" 'P.S. I can play the barrel-organ, but not 
the other kind.' 
H Wha.t must I tell," says Drowse, "that 
young woman, or this? 
" 'Rev. Sir,-I beg to offer myself as a can- 
didate for your school. I am trained and certi- 
fied. CaII sing, play the organ, teach knitting 
and sewing (double and single hemstitch), 
Arithmetic by a new and improved process. Am 
married, husband will make himself generally 
U6eful : could be overseer, or if a vacancy should 
happen, parish clerk, if you, reverend sir, fully 
approved of him. 
" 'Yours obediently, 
" 'EJIILY "r HALEBO
T. 
" 'P,S. Am a strict disciplinarian.' 
" Bless us," said the vicar, "here are six 
references offered by the strict disciplinarian, 
with a husband who can be made generaily 
useful. Shan't wl'ite to any of them. Thirty 
or forty letters a day before dinner, indeed! Is 
that the postman? Ah, to be sure. Fifteen 
more. What's this? 
'" Canon Boniface presents his compliments 
to the Vicar of Grulllbleton, and begs to inform 
him that he has a trained pupil teacher just 
completing her education at Fishponds, who 
will, he thinks, suit him e},.actly. She has a very 
affectionate manner-(HaUoa !)-with children 
-(Oh, 
ell)-is nineteen years of age, and a 
good Christian young person. Canon Boniface 
does not know if she can play the organ, but 
these things (what things ?) are generally taught 
in training in
titutions.' He doesn't tell me 
her name either." 
My poor old friend Drowse looked round in 
great perplexity, and fairly groaned over the 
produce of the afternoon delivery. I sought to 

oothe him by placing in his hands a lcttt:r that 



-, 



harle. Llckena.] 


ALl. THE YE.\n. IlOU
D. 


('.rcl1 . 18t4.] 15:> 


\\3 scenting the room. and was adorn d wi
h 
. ,.:ins on a great nrmo"ial st'll. He brokf' the 
..al, re:(..rdlcS8 of the f"ritli'1s' ned.l, ami read: 
"Lady Skedaddle ventures to l' commend to 
1'le \ïC":>r of Grumbl 
on, \rahl"lla Porlins. 
he 
. ! tau"'l.t her inf'mt boo 1 foU1' mvllths in the 
:1'.. nee of the I'f""ular mi tl't',. Arah c l1 a 
Po.Lins Can keep ti.", at1Pntion of the infant" 
a:i\"..: in the ml)st 1I'0mlerful manner, by t('lling 
tllPm roo illtpre,tin
 ble
, \\ holly imaginary, 
:u.d then she sings be_utifull}." 

Iy friend laid down the letter in despair, and 
wO\ud nut open any more. 'fhe spectacle of his 
bewilc.1trment movf>d me to the sUQ'g'('stion that 
he should shale all the letters well together, 
pick out fh e at random, and 1 hen use his dis- 
oretion in accepting olle out of the fife applica- 
tions. It was a happy inspiration. 
<r Do you know," sd.id Drowse, "Ulat's worth 
con..ideration! I'll sleep on that idea of yours." 
There are, so Drowse says, only a few instru- 
ments of torture now permitted by the law ; but 
the Committee of the l'rivy Council is one of 
them. It consists, according to Drowse-and he 
went one day to see for himself-of a h05tile 
bOlly of officials, whose business it is to pick holes 
in the skins of the clerg'!, and then rub the sores. 
Still he admits that it is not a joling matter 
when hI' has the committee's eye, in the shape 
of }'lr. Insp(-('tor, down on him. "You must 

i\"e him a dinner, and be ci\-il," says Drowse. 
. Only let him 
o into the school famished, and 
thc tÌrst thing he does, is, to lose his temper, 
then he turns all their wits out of the childrcn's 
heade:, and Í11 ten minutes he's brimful of such 
a report as mal.es my skin creep." 
Such i
 the present trouble of our worthy and 
rr
pected vic'n. A good, kind-hearted old man 
he undoubtedly is, and slowly luminous. When 
one of his parishioners, irate in vestry, exclaimed 
1 hat a Grumblcton parson would ne\"er set the 
Thames on fire, he quietly asled: " Who wants 
to set it on fire ?" This gave him a day's credit 
3S a wit in Grumbleton, and eonsidcring that it 
"as said in \estry, it deserves remark. But\ve 
Grumbleton folks do not like to see our good 
old friend in trouble, Bnd we rally round him as 
he quakes before this down-rush of damsels who 
have set their hearts upon him and his school. 
A few days elapse, and, by the help of some 
friends, Drowse is made ready t8 face a 
leeting 
of the Committee of the School. "School com- 
I I mittees," sa) s Drowse, "are not always so 
orderly as the children;" but then, he adds, "the 
more there are of you, the more stupid you are 
sure to be." His discourse on this subject is 
edif
 in
. "Xo
 ," he savs, "my committee is 
an in
tance. You will rind in it clever men 
enou
h, taken sin
ly, but, bless your soul, the 
I avera
e of intellect is a \ery low one in an as- 
sembly where clever and stupid men are mixed 
together. The stupid men drag do\\ n the clever 
, I men, and you would be surprised to see how 
timid and \\a\erin; many of the bettel' class of 
minds become. Thev lose s
lf-I cHance when they 
II worl. with a bold po
it.ve booby, ha\ e no fixed 


ra
lyi
Ht-point. ,d 113\e no ("I -.np'.)n to do tbe 
t hmklu
 for them. A Si u(lid man who under- 
stands eemmit -\\ ork will wind all tbe fine 
tbinkrrs up, spi'} th m to 51 ep, and tak(' thea\ 
up in his spoon. It's as easy as prJ-top." 
'I'his is, perhar", th" reason why our vicar 
gets on Sf) well \\ ith h.s committ,.n , as he cer- 
tainl,. does contri\ e, in the long run, to have it 
alllus own \\ay, and either tires them out. or 
sends them to slerp. 
Here we are, then, in 'Vestry assembled j 
ei
hteen guinea patrons, who can send their 
cluldren at half-price; three guinea and two 

uinea patrons; a\ 0 the presidcnt, Mr. Drowse. 
who sub
eribes five guineas annually to the 
school. Drowse briefly opens the proceedings. 
lIe informs the committee what all, in our 
respective personal capacities, lnew beCort. 
that Miss SniO'
l('S had given "anúng to leave. 
He says this 'IS if he were the most injured I 
man in the \\odd, in consequence. 
A pile of let tels six inches high lies on bis 
right hand, and another pile half as t.hick again 
lies on his left. 
"I Clay say, gentlemen," continues Mr. 
Drowse, "that all tbese applications have been 
carefully perused. and thought unsuitable. .AJ1y 

entleman can look through them and satisfy 
himself of their \ alue." 
Up jumps a Í\\O guinea patron. a radical and 
a dissenter, as DrO\vse cnIls him: .. \Ve ought 
to have them all read, so as to form our own 
unhiased judgment, gentlemen, and not permit 
the rector to rough-ride the parish in this 
manner. I'm a t\\O guin a patron though not 
a churchman, and I, for my part, haven't seen 
one of th('O\; hue you, Admiral Groggen ?" 
" liasn't he," saId Admiral Groggen, "ho just 
Claught one word of the last speal.cr's address. 
through hi5 e'lr-trumpet. " lIe has seen balf a 
doten of them, I know. Enterpri
ing girls. 
Come a long way on purpose." 
Drowsr, however, to save time, hands the 
packet of rejected addres"'.es to our friend Grog- 
gen, with the requf''5t tl1at he will rend aloud II 
trom them, to satisfy himself and tl.
 committee 
generally. 
" Here is one" -J
 the adnúrtÙ, c. to begin 
with: ' 
U C Reverend and BARBEROUS Sir,-On the 
25th ultimo sent vou application for school, with 
particulars that I "as an unprotected fem.J.e, who 
could play the barrd-organ, and asJ...ed whether 
you found fuel, whether the house was lonely, 
or near t.he churchyard. Surely a man-much I 
more a 
entleman and a clergyman-would n
ver 
have suff red n day to pass-to say nothing of 
more t.han 1 hree weels-without one line to 
sati
fy a nateral and proper curiosity. 
co C tour"
 &c., 
" C )!ARTllA DL
K:.''' 


Roars of lau
hter from the committee, ..hicb 
lasted a considerable time, and left everybody in 
such a g-ood Humour, that it was determined to 
go thl'ou"'h the rlst of the file as an amusement. 
"'l'Ìle
 lames marry fWlt," rCOIalked the 



156 ['larch 26, 18G4.] 


[Conducted by 


II 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


admiral, reading a postscript: · I am married- 
without encumbrance.' What doe
 that mean?" 
" One reason why so many applications are 
made by the pupil teachers," said Drowse. " I 
am told, is, that they have a notion that the 
Grumbleton schoolmistresses are particularly 
likely to get offers. They ten one another at 
the Training Institutions, and that's one reason 
why I disapprove of bringing up a parcel of 
young- women together." , 
"They corrupt one another," smd the two 
guinea patron. who felt spitefully towards Fish- 
ponds, and did not object to agree with the vicar 
llOW and then. 
" Corrupt one another," said Groggen; "fid- 
dle-de-dee. How can they conupt one another?" 
After reading over twenty or thirty letters, 
Grogg'en lifted up a tied packet. 
" What's this?" asked the admiral. 
"Correspondence between me and Canon 
Boniface," answered the vicar. "You Jr.ay 
read it, if you like, It's a great pity that all 
the additional trouble and vexation of such a 
correspondence should be bad for nothing-. 
.Without quotin
 the letters of the canon, 
which were, of course, lengthy, I may state 
that Drowse had started with t he air of a man 
nettled that a stranger like Canon Boniface 
should presume to think he knew of anybody 
"that .would suit him exactly." So he wrote à 
curt answer to that effect. Boniface rejoined in 
a dignified epistle, in dismal grandiose periods, 
which sounded like the tolling of the cathedral 
bell at a dean's funeral, except where a profane 
quotation or two from Horace broke in upon the 
bom-bom-bom. Drowse wrote a short re- 
joinder, merely asking the name ofthe candidate, 
if she u:ere a candidate. But this personality 
made Dr. Boniface very angry, and he refused 
to gi\"c the name. So it was proposed by the 
two guinea patron, seconded by the grocer, 
and carried nem. con., that "This committee, 
llavillg heard the correspondence between the 
Rev. Canon Boniface and the Vicar of Grumble- 
ton, desires to express its censure of the former 
and its sympathy \\ith the Rev. !lfr. Drowse," 
all which is to be found in the chronicles of 
Grumbleton, as well as the remainder of the 
correspondence, which proved to be more vo- 
luminous than luminous, though it was interest- 
ing to Grumbleton, and was all printed ill the 
local newspapers. 
We were so long engaged over the candidates 
on the left hand of the vicar, that scant atten- 
tion was paid to the dozen likely candidates on 
the right, whose claim demanded a more careful 
consideration. The guinea patrons began to drop 
off one by one, till at last there were only some 
half-dozen left, and then it "as agreed that lots 
should be drawn, as the most satisfactory and ex- 
peditious way of settling the matter, 'So three 
damsels were then chosen, and a sum of money 
voted from the funds to enable them to come 
to Grumbleton for the purpose of undergoing 
examination before tile committee, and that 
we might all know something of their musi. 
cal powers, vocal and instrumental. This ,,"as 


considered by Drowse and Admiral GroO'O'en 
and by the two guinea patrons, indispens
ble 
 
"For," said Drowse, "unless we see 'em, ho
 
can we tell whether they will do ? If they dress 
too smart, you know, it's 3 sign of 'Vanity." 
"Tut! nonsense," quoth the admiral; "I like 
to see the girls dress as fine as they can. .We 
always male our ships as smart as possible; and, 
for the same reason, we should like to see our 
women hoist their colours bravely." 
Drowse was not disposed to contest the point. 
The three wele to come. The day came and the 
damsels. Then the committee came, and was 
assembled in the church. Let each hear for 
himself. It was difficult for us to decide; but 
Admiral Grog-gen, who couldn't hear anything, 
formed his judgment; and his judgment, like that 
of Paris on the three goddesses, was not to be 
impugned. The ladies' committee had some- 
thing to say; old 
Irs. Tittling was not entirely 
satisfied; :Mrs. Briar thought the young persons 
modest and respectful; but :Mrs. Grobey said, 
she could see a snake in the grass. 'l'he ladies 
will, no doubt, have it all their own way, if they 
can only be brought to understand among them- 
selves what their way is; but, pending the settle- 
ment of their differences, the president and 
patrons of Grumbleton will be permitted by them 
to give the golden apple to her who is, in the 
admiral's opinion, the most deserving candidate. 


A GIPSY COKCERT IN MOSCOW. 


WE were dininQ' at one of the chief restau- 
rants in !lIoscow, I and Hen Grabe. We had 
been to the Russian Comedy, and were now 
disporting ourselves at supper. 
A Russian traktir, or restaurant, is a re- 
markable place. 1'here is nothing of HIe 
snug, homely comfort of the London tavern, and 
its intramural interment in mahogany bins; 
nothing of tb'e cold, solitary splendour of the 
coffee-room of an English hotel; but, instead 
of this, a cumbrous, expensive magnificence, 
with the alloy of a semi-barbarism that casts 
across that magnificence a strange cloud like 
the shadow of a penny-gaff. The stalls ha'-e 
seats like the ponderous sofas that prevail in 
English lodging-houies, the tables are larger 
than they need be, and overhung \Vi
h frouzy 
red curtains that cloud you round as wlth a tent. 
The traktir we .were patronising was a nest 
of rooms - up-stairs and dowll-rooms that 
opened one into the other in a labyrinthine, 
confusing, and endless way. The innumer- 
able waiters are clad in white tunics, wound 
round with red sashes; and never less than 
half a dozen of these retainers surround you 
when you enter to seize your hat, or remo\"e 
your fur cloak. Another peculiarity of the 
traktir is the enormous self-playing organ, that 
grinds out its deafening and dumbing music 
as you eat your cutlet, often drowning COllversa- 
tion, and always noisily intrusive. 
1Ve had eaten a slice of the yellow flesh of 
the sturgeon, and finished our cutlets, wLeu 



Cbarles Dickena.] 


.ALL TIlE YL.\n nou}.']). 


Herr Grabe, who had risen, and was over- 
hauling a pile of Uu. ,inn and forr:
n papers, 
suddenly advanced towards 01", his 
tolid f'
e"i 
beamilJ ç with plt.lsurr, and \\aving in his podgy 
haud a. Jon
 flimsy hlue pla.\"hill. 
" }[urr.lh! nll'in Herr liondnum,H said he, 
"hrre is for ) un a 
reat opportunity; here is 
our bst Gipsy Concert-the last of the season 
-our wonde
f\ll song-
iftl'd 
ipsies' concert; 
they sing and dance to-morrow at t he Hcrlllita
e 
G.lrdens. It 18 a goreat opportunity, for th
 
winter has now bl'gun, and a d.l! later you 
mi
ht ha\e missed them. They nre miraculous 
mimies; they are dancf'rs of gellius; they sing 
-Himmel, hO\v they sing!" 
At 
even o'elock the next ni
ht a jolting roll 
throu
h the suburbs and boulev.mls, the dry 
leaves r\l"tlin
 Ullde1" our whf'els, brou
ht us to 
the great iron 
ate of the Ilermita
e-a gate 
crowned with coloured lamps. 
The lIermita
e is a sort of Cremorne-a 
pleasure-garden 'for summer use; like Cremome 
suburban, nnd formerly the property of a noble- 
man. It has a pretty little domain, with a 
lIIini.lturf' lake and a sprinkliu
 of good trees. 
It has little eurtained alcO\es for supping in, 
and a har-room for wine and" gro!:'s." 
So tar I could see at a glance as I threaded 
the wicl..et, paid for my ticket, and wall-ed dO\"l 
the lon
 scantily-lit 
ardcll-path, lured on by 
distant music that indicated some central source 
of amusement. Herr Grabe followed me with 
stolid ellthu:.iasm, full of metaph
sical medita- 
tions upon the price of hemp, lib..e a 
ood philo- 
sophical German merchant ns he was. 
j [urrying people pa
sed us; not fantastic 
students, or prattling gri
ette!C, but quid, staid 
people, intensely ßrave and respectable, in- 
capable of mercurial mo\ ement, or tumultuous 
gaiety. Dance! There was no dancing in 
them. 
e, Where is the dancing platform?" 1 said to 
Herr Grabe. 
"D.mce?" said Herr Grabe, with horror: 
.. the government anows no dancing here, We 
are not civili
cd enou
h to dance in public." 
Oh, the blessings of a paternal 
o\ernment! 
'\\ hat can d.mcing have to do \\ ith politics? 
Can one be \\:lltzed into republicanism, or 
"irouetted into .roli
h principles? 
Farling trees do not lool \\(,11 when lit by dim 
lamps and tin reflectors like di:.h-coHrs. l'here 
is a dingy 
aiety about half-dead tree
, seen by 
an artiticial illumination, that makes one thinb.. 
of theatrical forests, side-scenes, and footldltS. 
A g:lrden of .\lcinous, on a cold autumn night, 
with rather a severe fre
h wind sighing about 
the dead leaves, and turning them over, as if 
ill search of some one put out of the way 
and hidden underneath, is not tilt most se- 
ductive of places, "ithout some strong induce- 
ment to lead you therc nnd lcep you there 
\\ hen you are entrapped. 
". e took our seats in a sort of open-air pro- 
prietary chapel, facing au orcll{ "ha, and with 
our backs to a refrf'shment-counter. There 
were long rows of scats, with a walk dO\\ll tlte 


(Mar b 2 , 1 I.] }..7 


centre bf'twr n them. It w
s rather a C"- d 
nidlt, and srcond-rat<<> mu"ic IS not \varmw&! 
however noi"v it ma'" be. Some offiC"'t'S n a; 
me drew their fur-hned clodks closer round 
them, with a suffering øhrug; the ladif' 
huddled together, like towls 011 a perch I n a 
wintrr's night. 
The musicians were like any other mu"i . n5 
in !).lris or London. E, enin
 dress is not 
capable of muclL variety, From the leader 
dowmvards the b'md degenerated in perspec- 
tive, tiU the player on the hi
 drum in the back- 
ground grew positively shabhy. ""Ith lon!!- 
suffering patience we bore the short gusts of 
mU'lic. 
Weary of staring at the orchestra, I turned 
my eyes to the decorations, and tbev were 110t 
altogether despicalblc-superior to .CremoTJIr, 
and aU suclL modern Vauxhalls, but inferior to 
the tasteful variety of a .Paris illumination. 
There were so'me w-een metal aloes with 
broad, well-modelled leaves, wide and flappin
 
as elephants' ears-sueh plants as grow in 
Indian jungles, and conceal ti
ers' dens and t1le 
lairs of enormous snales. They stood on high 
pedestals ahO\"e the flower-beds; the starry, 
branchin
 flo\\ ers 
ere formed by little jets of 
!:'as; the pure and brilliant flame blossoming 
n.lturally enou
h into flowers. A prettier night 
ornament coulð sC'lrccly be imagined. 
Suddenly a dark fj
ure stole thievisltly along 
the pasteboard battlement that formed tbe 
façade of the Music Theatre. Satan entering 
Eden could not have striven harder for ambush 
in order to avoid the ang-elic spears. Little 
lamps of a luminous violet colour were first 
lit by this dexterous climber; they were fol- 
lowed by rows of burning topazes and glow. 
worm-coloured light.., and radiant rubies, and 
little cups of bluish moonli
ht, that the envious 
and stru
glin
 "ind kept lU a restless nicler, 
and every now and then, in a fit of irrestrain- 
able petulance, blew into total darkness. 
The black hand passed over them with the 
nimble flame, and brushed them bacl again into 
liglit. And, all this time, the chilly concert went 
on, and the dry leJ.ves ble" about inquiringly, 
and the dull visitors patrolled, and the coquet- 
tish blondes laughed and drank tea, or sipped 

ticky liqueurs, and talked of the gipsies. 
[ do not think t1tere is muelL real ta"ite for 
music in Uussia. .People tall too much at the 
Opera. .Everything is French, German, and 
Italian, aUlI what is not one of theue three is bad 
-1 mean, in the fashionable world only, for tlie 
native 3.nd Coss1.ck airs are very \\ild, 
ad, and 
original, and the peasants are passionatelv fond 
of them. A spurious and balf-learned ci\ ilí ion 
seems to paralvse Cor a time in Russia the natural 
instincts of taste. 
On went those black-clad antom"lton
 with 
their mechanical playin!!, doling out br the bar, 
without f{'din
 01' P
lOl}, the beaulI.ful,sere- 
nade in Don Juan, the \\iz:ml \\altz lU faust, 
the nIRj(>,t ic "eddin.....march of Mcnde1s.CIObn. 
But suddenly th
 band brole into life, and 
tbundered out with the fire and euctitude tlia' 


I 
I 
II 


" 



ALL THE YEAH. ROUND. 


158 


plarch 26, 18...4.J 


[Conducted by 


onl:y delight and practice can give, the Russian 
nahonal anthem: <, God defend the Czar"- 
the most martial and passionate of national 
I anthems; and far superior, in my humble opi- 
nion, to our" God save the Queen." Every hat 
went off, and five times running, as ths tune 
ended, a band of students and officers advanced 
to the orchestra, and shouted for a re-perform- 
ance, uttering barbaric yells, such as might have 
better become wild horsemen of the Don than 
modem Russian gentlemen. 
And now the open-air service closed, the 
congregation thawed away, and melted into the 
surrounding walks. The leader of the orchestra 
regarded us, as we remained almost the last on 
the benches, with a look of careless pity, as 
he slipped his violin into its baize bag, and 
tumed to leave the stage. We joined the stream 
of people eager for the next phase of amusement, 
and found ourselves at a small toll-gate, where 
somc officers were huyilJg concert tic1.ets. As 
we were buying ours, half a dozen dark-eyed, 
untamed-looking men, in red shirts and blue caf- 
t aIlS, passed; one of them was mounted, and, as 
he approached us, gave a shout, and dashed off 
at a canter down a side-walk, like an aide-de- 
camp on a special errand. 
"Wunderschön!" exclaimed Herr Grabe; 
"those are some of the gipsies." 
1Ve showed our ticket, and passed into the 
enclosure. It was a large area, facing a covered 
stage, with no roof, but long strings of artificial 
green leaves that, running parallel to each other, 
Íormed a sort of fiat tent above our heads, suit- 
able for summer, but as ilJadequate covering 
for a chilly October evening as a gauze dressing- 
gown would be for the Arctic Ocean. 
Herr Grabe grew oracular. 
"You will see something typical," he said, 
e< my English travelled friend; not the Spanish 
gipsy dances, old as the Phænicians, not all 
wriggle and oscillation, like the Nautch girls in 
India, mere shuffle of the feet-toe and heel 
scarcely lifted from the ground. No, this will 
be truly a vYalpurgis-night, enchanted, frenzied 
dance, quite original; deducible onl.v from prin- 
ciples of Arabic æsthetics, no more like your 
tame European dances, than an ostrich of the 
desert is like a farm-yard goose. 'Thunder and 
storm! How long the Egyptians are raising 
the curtain!" 
As if his reproof had been heard, the curtain 
instantly rose, and disclosed a stage with an 
amphitheatre of chairs. To them rapidly en- 
tered in careless procession-the EGYPTIANS. 
Their leader was a tall handsome woman of, 
say, two-and-twenty, evidently the queen and 
beauty of the tribe; her large d3.rk eyes were 
full of a mischievous triumph, as she sailed in, 
not ungracefully, in her ermine robe, and took 
the central seat placed for her. Her manner 
was not retiring or timid, yet there was just 
enough of deference and wild shyness about 
her bearin
 to male one assist in applauding 
her 011 her arrival. She was perfectly at her 
ease, and yet not enough so not to be glad to 
turn and laugh and whisper to the women next 


her. She did not look like a lad", and vet vou 
s
a.r
ely seemed to wish to juclge her "by 
the I 
clVlhsed standard. There was an indisputable I 
look of command about her, and a confidence of 
success that showed the practrised actress. 
Next her, on the left, sat a fat pleasant-look- 
ing woman, quiet and lady-like in manner, and 
with the air of a retired prima donna. She was 
dressed less riehlv-, but ill better tast@. This 
was the dowager:queen, I felt sure. Next her 
came a middle-aged woman, with rather flaccid 
cheeks, but with a humorous expression about 
her large dark eyes, that augured "ell for 
comedy. The other four women were eoarsely 
pretty, their eyes, however, darkly luminous, and 
large as Cleopatra's. The dress of all of them 
was peculiar, and rather bizarre and Asiatic in 
character. 
Then the men came ill, tall rough fellows, 
with tumbled black hair, who ra
ged them- 
selves, with sullen shyness and half-rebellious 
discipline, in a semicircle behind the chairs. 
Last of all, in came the chief, the leader, the 
husband, 1 presume, of the queen, for he pheed 
himself near her, and beat time for the whole 
of the performers. He carried a small species 
of guitar, peculiar to the Russian gipsy, in his 
right hand. He was a tall, supple young man, 
with a pointed, crafty, Spanish sort of face, and 
was dressed in rather a theatrical short tunic 
of red linen, that made his legs appear almost 
awkwardly long, though their pliancy and the 
smallness of his feet still served to prove their 
capacity for swift and practised movement. 
The concert began with a solo by the dowager- 
queen, a wild song but of no special character, 
sung with a good but a veiled voice-a voice 
that had lost its purity and resonance. 
Now a cry arose of "Marscha! Marscha!" a 
deli
hted expectant cr.v. 
" 'Vho is :Marscha?" I asked. 
"Marscha is their prima donna, the one in. 
ermine," replied Herr Grabe. 
Marsclla the majestic, queenly ill her ermine, 
leaned forward and bowed, not disdainfully, but 
with a sort of serene complacency, as one accus- 
tomed i 0 such homage. 
"Oulitza! Oulitza!" shouted the well-dressed 
mob. 
Marsella turned and smiled on her companions, 
as much as to say, "The old cry'. See bow I 
lead them and rule them. I am their true queen 
to-night; the czar nl:lY have them to-morrow," 
So looked the saucy beauty, as she bo,",ed to 
the well-dressed mob that shouted and jostled 
with delight; and all those lesser stars, her com- 
panions, smiled and whispered. 
I have seen more beautiful singers, loftier and 
whiter brows, eyes more dove-like, more saint- 
like, mOre full of sunshine or of fairy glamour.. 
ing power, but I never saw anywhere so much of 
the grace and archness of expression as .Marscha 
bent forward, seized the guitar, and began. 
1rhat a ,,"oice! How mellow, soft, anà yet 
powerful, gushing forth without an effort, and 
full of endless rises and falls of semitones! With 
'íhat a sensibility and expression she gave the 



Charle. DlI:loteI1L] 


ALL THE y:r:AP.. I
OU
D. 


[
Ial" b .18...4.] l:iJ 


rù, she t d back her head, shook i 
with a most bewitching- c:corn, or leaned for- 
w:uù with half-:Ihut mischievous e\""es, I1S she 
struck the 
it8t"-s"rinJ!'S with p13
 fl\l triu.nph. 
As sh fini;:)hed her lir t son
, the !;'IJout!> of 
c. úulitz1." (the VI ; e dwellinJr il the .. Oil" in a 
SUI t of lon!:'-ùr:l\vn hO\\ I) \\ ere followed by fresh 
cries of" lIarseha" Olary). 
)[ar",nba sang "Oulitza." mer a!!ain with more 
(1eli
htful archness and tenderness than before. 
I U.iul.. I never lu.ard a sin
er who attendf j 
I lore 
Ucnti\clv and ius inchvely, not merelv 
to Ii ,ht and shaùe, forte and piauo, but also to 
evel'V minute infiec .on of meaning. 
It" was a beautiful air, full, a
 I took it, of 
p . onate entreaty, of almúst Oriental adorati.,n, 
of 10\ ers' coaxing; argumcnts, of pla\""ful quarrel 
-a rll
tic love.st,')ry, in fact, changeful as .\pril. 
And every time 
larscha ::.auJr it R fresh colour 
seemed to tr.ulsfu
e it, so ,aried were the tones 
of her voice, and the plwe'" of hcr grace, pride, 
arc'huess, and imperial coquetry 
I asked Herr Grabe the meanim; of the words, 
for 
 he song was in Itussian patois. Alas! for 
my imaginations. 
<<They call it a 
ipsy air," he said, "and so it 
]1arU, is, but I have certait1ly heard it in Germany. 
It is called there · The Beer House.' It de- 
scribes a droll fellow sta

erilJ!j out of a beer-shop 
and seem!; two moons positively winking at 
him; present!) the hous s on each side of the 
street be
in noddin
 too, and the church dancf"s 
a ca, alier seul. Then a fit of maudlin melan- 
choly supervenes, and he resolves to gi\'e up his 
bo()zing way"', turn hi" back 011 the seductin 
bef'r-c:hop, and go back to the old gipsy tent 
and his old C!lUll\S. 
J.nd on this stupid old dl"inling-son
 I had 
thro
n a",ay all my enthusiasm; and that was 
tile revellin
 measure in which Marscha had ex- 
pended all her fine acting. Bah! I was \cxed 
-I was hurt. But who was I? A mcre fo- 
reign mist. The applause was tremendous. 
The people rolled and billowed "ith delight. 
Marscha's eyes lit up, but she received the 
app'huse with the majesty of au empress. 
The llex.t song was a part-song with chorus, 
The men strucl... in nobiy. The air was wild and 
hlllllorous. The leader ga' e the signal Cor the 
chorus by a swift right-about-face and a wa\ e of 
the handle of his guitar as he struck the b1SS 
c1
rds. It was a half-savage Tartar tune, 
but tin
ed with fun, wit h a dashins; crescenùo in 
the sv. if test speed, that closed the first half of the 
concert. The performers, led by )Iarscba, quitted 
th,. stage for a time, and dC!3cendcd to earth, 
to take tea, "grc
," and champagne in the 
refreshment-room. 
They mo\'ed about the garden with royal con- 
descension. They nodJed to officers, who praised 
and flattered 
heDl .with a high- bred fialhntry 
worthv of the impenal saloDs. They cOllected in 
gaily-dre..
ed groups round the back door of the 
theatre. They held anÏ1uated converse \\ ith their 
chid, the young m n in the sC1rlet 
hirt, who 
c'lntercd about the /!&.' liS '" ith a pnrros less 
'fiollnce on a "eeùy brown horse. As 101' .lIar- 


s
ha, she wrapped he 11 1Q h r ermin s, and, 1'1 
tUlng to a qUiet corner of lr refrcJh.nenl-r
 I 
wi>h a . vr droll- oo...in.! \\oman in a !ll)rt I 
cJ,;"
Z ùr
!., S :r ' p--d a tumlJlf'T of boilinno tea In 
her own !('n\D be"";'ching way, the cJnosllI 
of all nei
hbouring f' ,. 
Presently therE' w.... a cl LSh of brn.,
, and 1. 
fizzin
 of vi(,lin- trir
, as the crowd drift l 
back to thei.r seats und r the leaf-roof wi I 
mueh cacU,. of cLe y t :1.., aud much c njedUi 
as to Part Two of the 
ipsy perform...nef' " t' 
jostl d down into our I laces ; there was SOT.. 
marrow-bonf'-and-c' lver music of the Nah_- 
chadono::.or order, and the curtain drcn lip. 

o actors in London or rari, could hne 
A'rouped tl.e 
ene better. It was an encamp- 
ment of R\.' . gipsies preparing for the cer("- 
monies of a marriage. AU \Va! drollery and 
bustle. There" f're some rou
h-bearùed CeUow;i 
on one sirle wrangling at cards: and bein
 scolded 
by a witch of an old woman, who, ladle in hand, 
kept alternately reviling e\ery one for not help- 
ing' more in the preparations, and stirring a 
caldron of cabbage-soup, that, hanging Crom 
a tripod of sticks, seethed over a fire. There 
were boys dancin
, shouting', and playing' mis- 
chievous tricks. fhere ""ere women arranging 
seats for the bride and bridegroom. 
There "as a distant shout of weJcome, a 
trample of feet, and in came th(' bride and bu 
attend'l1lts pfarscha, of course, lookin!! charm- 
ing in her brid'Ù finery and streaming \ ed) ; then 
came a clatter of hoofs, and in, at a great pace, 
dashed the chief on horseback-the skilful beast 
he bestrode whirling round and round \\ith art- 
Cullv fei<p1ed impetuosit.v, and di persing, at 
every turn, the gip;:)y retinue, who, with equal 
art, made way for it, with a pretence of fear. 
'Ihe bride "as seated at a table, on which 
stood the bridal offerin!;S cO'fered with muslin. 
With delightful1y acted shyness she received the 
homage of the bearded portly T"i;:)itors, who, in 
their blue cloth caftans and hi
h boots, acted 
the part of small tradesmen, and other well-to- 
do guests. It was aU in dumb show, for no 
one spoke a word, but tbe men bowed, smiled, 
and gesticulated, and the twenty or thirtv 
actors bustled about to exprL.)S their pleasurè 
at seeing' each other, and at the general splen- 
dour of the elltert..1.inment. 
'Ihrouf:h the crowd all at once broke the old 
Canidia oC a cool, her grey hair about her ears, I I 
her ladle in her hand ::,he executed a gro- 
tesque dance, quite tipsy in its drollery, its 
vi
our somewhat retardt.d by assumed It:-.'''C. 
Take it nllog ther, it partook of the hornr' 
 
character, and "as, perhaps, better adapted tor 
male than female performance. At intervals she 
bal'led and !c1ped, and all the gipsies shouted 
in the Irish manner. 
Theu a Sl.Jart boy of fourt<< red-shirted 
and booted, his lank hair of an OIly blacknes , 
his face bro\\n and slv, accepts the crone's 
challen!re. He comes' forward, amidst hand- 
clap pings and chorus-singing, Wl
h a handL.er. 
chief in one han
 and e1f'Cut a 
 
ld, br
k- 
down dance, more subtle than our nigger danca-, 



160 [March 26, 186-1.) 


[Conducted by 


ALL THE YEAR ROUND. 


and less droll, but far more scientific and difficult, 
Every now and then he drops tbe handkerchief, 
and picks it up in a certain ecstatic moment 
of the dance, without losing time, and this feat 
is rewarded by storms of laùghter and applause. 
His little booted legs shake about as pliant 
as a harlequin's, and his sly vain face pre- 
serves one steady expression of crafty determi- 
nation. He ends a series of impossÌbilities by 
a gig-antic effort in double shuilling. " That 
boy," I said to Herr Grabe, "if be isn't hung 
prematurely for picking pockets, will become a 
world-known ballet-master." 
"N 0," said be, "it is wunderbar; but these 
people have refused offers to travel that would 
have brought t.hem hundreds and hundreds of 
pounds. 
l'bey are proud; they are free as 
Tartars; they like their own ways. Have you 
not heard how Catalani once, after hearing one 
of their women sing, took off a shawl, worth 
thousands of roubles, that some emperor had 
given her, and threw it over the gipsy's 
shoulders, exclaiming: 'I am dethroned-this 
is the Queen of Song!' It may he true: I tell 
it you for true. Why not P" 
And all this time :Marscha sat queenl'y in her 
white attire. Now the chief stepped to bel', and 
IlRnded her a gipsy guitar. It seemed impossible 
to approach that woman without reverence. 
She took it, and threw the blue band across her 
left shoulder. Instantly a tremulous tune rose 
from the strings of the wild instrument. 
The great finale of the gipsy entertainment 
'I was approaching. There was to be a duet sword- 
I dance between the chief and that tall statel.v 
buxom girl on the right of Marscha. Now I 
had heard gipsy music in Spain, where the anti- 
quarians declare it to be partly Phænician and 
partly Grecian in character. I had found it to 
resemble in manv respects the Arab music, being 
monotonous, qtÌaint, and full of minute in- 
flections, almost too subtle to be distinguished 
except by a practised car; at times exciting 
and passionate, yet generally more like an in- 
cantation than pure bonest music, and there can 
be no doubt profoundly corrupt in its mystic 
significance. 
The guitar, and the incessant hand-clapping, 
fumished a fitting music for such a dance, which 
IS probably of Tartar origin and of extreme an- 
tiquity, The chief, girding himself up, and 
looking down at his boots to see if he was in 
sound dancing trim, stepped forward to the foot- 
lights, and addressed some words in Russian, 
that I could not hear, to an officer in white uni- 
form, who sat in the front row. 
The officer rose, bowed, and unbuckling his 
heavy cavalry sword, handed it up in its glittering 
steel sheath to the gipsy dancer. He took it, 
drew the blade from its sheath, and returned 
the sheath to the owner. 
Then, holding the sword in his hand, and oyer 
llÍs head, he advanced to the girl who, wrapped 
in her shawl, paced forward to oppose him in 
the dance, They challenge each other, they 
I cross and interchange with the gravity of minuet 
dancers. She points at his feet and marks out the 
! 


figures with the agility of a Highlaudman e>..ult- 
ing in the Fling, but with more lithe and crafty 
neatness. He is so quick, you Can hear nothin;;' 
but the tap of his heel and toe, and the son 
low beat of his companion's toe and heel. Now 
and then, as the band shout in a jerky ecstatic 
way, lIe slashes the sword through the air, and 
 I 
cuts figures of light before the girl's unflinching 
ey,es, she all the time playing graceful antic
 
wIth her shawl, that she alternately loosens and 
tightens. 'I'here is no violence about the dance, I 
but it is full of a robust Spanish spirit, and is 
defiant in its character. Suddenly the music I 
quickened, the dancers redoubled their efforts, 
and approached earh other more closely; s" ift I 
as lightning that horrible menacing- sword flew II 
round the girl's bead, whistled over and around 
her on left and right, close, close-one hair's 
breadth more-one instant of haste or panic, or I 
of thoughtless and excited eagerness, and the 
gipsy girl had fallen dead on the stage. 
" .Whish-whish !" went the sword, glitterin
 
through the air, the dance growing every secon,l 
faster and madder. Suddenly, an uncontrollable 
thirst for blood seemed to seize the swordsman; 
he passed his hand upward through his hair, and 
it stood on end in a maniacal, Corybantic way. 
Then, tossing the sword behind bis back, he 
raised it to cleave that proud and smiling 
antagonist to tbe breast-bone; he raised the 
sword-that instant the music stopped, the 
dance was over, and the applause broke forth 
like thunder in a Brazilian forest. 
I wiped the hot dew from my forehead, and 
gave a sigh of relief, 
" It is divaine, it is divaine!" exclaimed my 
German friend; "come, let us hurry off to the I 
fireworks." 
And so we did. The people, ungratefully eager 
for new amusement, were crowding in black 
masses on the dark edge of the garden lake. 
They looked like ghosts waiting for Charon On 
the banks of Lethe's fat and sullen stream. 
Here and there a spark rose up on the oppo- 
site shore, and by that spark we could see black 
figures moving about with lights. 
"Bang!" went the maroons, with a crack- 
ing detonation; up went a golden line, and 
broke into a star of burning diamonds. "Bang! 
bang !" with spiteful and abrupt reports, 
" Hiss, hiss !" like flying serpents, went the 
fire",orks, and branched into saffron-coloured, 
starry fire; into golden willows, into branching 
threads, each tipped with a star of brilliants. 
Up "Went other fireworks, that, high up, blos- 
somed into blue, and crimson, and green, and 
melted into the cold unruilled darkness. 
" Whiz! hiss! whiz!" spread the fire over 
the frameworks, and broke out into circles, and 
letters, and crowns, and laurel-leaves, and the em- 
peror's name, and" God protect the Cz
r !" and 
burnt away at last into black revolving scaffold- 
ing, with here and there a lingering spark. I 
Out on the water too, like flying serpent-fire, 
burst out the fireworks, and ran and blazed and ,I 
hissed and discharged their very lives in breath ' I I 
of flame and showers of golden sparks. 



Cb&rlel D1ckenL] 


AI L TIlE YEAlt ItOUND. 


J3ut c\cn to fireworks there is all pnd, and as 
th.. last roclet shot forth its stars, we ran to 
'I the 
ate, leaped into a drosehl.y, and drove at a 
rattling pace homewards. 
'rhe next d't)T, latc in the afternoon, I \\ ent 
J!\,ain to the IIermita
e alone. 'fhe llowcrof V J.in 
Vdigbb had a forlorn look; dead lea\ es !>tre\\ cd 
the \VJ.lk. .Blaelened squib-cases tloated on the 
lake, belo\\ the ta" dry pasteboard mountains. 
In the stablcs, an cnormous elephant 
wayeù 
to ..nd fro, and undulated llis proboscis. In 
t he court-yard, a tame bear lamented angrily his 
blindness. The empty stage looked disconsolate 
as a house aftcr a funeral. The roof of artilìeial 
leaves rustled in the cold air. The tawdry 
triumphal arches seemed to shrink away from 
the honcst daylight, that is so frank, .and so dis- 
daills shame and concealment of all kmds. I felt 
like the magician's boy in tbe Indian fable, \\ ho 
un\\ittingly has repeated the spcll that has turncd 
his father's palace into a povert) -stricken bovel. 


OYSTERS AKD OYSTER CULTURE. 


THERE are aristocratic and plebeian oysters, 
suited to the pockets as well as to the palates 
of thcir admirers, and amongst the former our 
natives are pre-eminent in flavour as well as in 
price. This distinction bas long Ju'e\-ailcd, 
rhillip", who published iu the rcign of Anne 
a poem, the nallle of which is disclosed iu tbe 
following lines, declared 
Happy the man, wbo yoid of care and I!trifc, 
In 
ilh.en or in leatbern purse contains 
A 8J}ltn '.1 &hillill!J; he ne'er hears" ith pain 
Fre:.h oysters cried! 
The democratic, or deep-sea oysters, princi. 
pally from the Channel hlands, earliest take 
the field in London, the Colchesters next be- 
come \'isible, wbile the higb-bred or "melting 
ll..1ti\ e::." from )lilton, Whitstable, Fa\ ersh..1m, 
and other localitics on the Kenti
h coast, \\ait 
to see the grouse and partridge seasons pass, 
and come in \\ ith the pheasants in October. 
1.'he old English lllle \\ hieh has become a 
prO\erb, U In the R'd months you 1M) )our 
oysters eat," is a mere translation of a Leonine 
rh) me of the :\liddle Age;:,- 
Mensibus errati
, 
Y os 05trea ruallducatis. 
The nati\'cs are reared from the developed 
spa" n, technically termed the 8]Jat, \\ hieh is 
tr..mspl..mted from its birthplace to feedi1\g'- 
p-rounds appropriated to this pri\ ileged class; 
for, like otber fashionables, they are believed to 
illlpro\ e by changes of sea air, aild become meta- 
morphosed from all fin and 110 fat, to all fat 
(lnd small fin. They thri\e best in the altificial 
beds of sheltered ba
s and estuaries, and im- 
prO\ e most in the neig-hbourhood of fresh-" ater 
t!prin
s, The greenish colour ,,"hicb the fins 
sometimes present, is acquired by exposing the 
adult oysters in shallo
 pools to the sun's ra)s, 
and probably, in some measure, ari3es from the 
absorption of the micro
copic shoots of deli- 


(1Ia.
h 2 . I" I,] HH 


cate marine plants, rcndered l.lO.e tcnder by the 
action of the waves, and tinged by the illfluencf' 
of light. The natl\es are nut full grl)\\n until 
between five and :,even years old, and as \\" 
learn the age of a horse out of hi::! 0\\ n moutb, 
that of the oyster i
 di

losed by annual laYlO 
on the convex shell. Oysters possess di
linct 
or!\,ans of di
estion, respiration, and circulation, 
\\ ith a \\ ell-ddined nervous system. They are 
sensible of light, and close their valves at the 

hado\\ of au approacbing bod), so that tbe un- 
clul,ation of the "<itcrs may lIot reach them. 
"' hen brought to Billin
gate, the nati\cs are 
subjcctcd to sanitary treatment by being placcd 
in ,ats of sea-\\ ater, or of watcr holding a saline 
mixture in solution, to which oatmeal is added, 
a proce
s \\ hich tcnds rather to increase their 
fat than imprO\ e their fia\ our. 
"hen the llati\.e is in perfection, the fish 
should approach the roundm""\s of a ball, and be 
\\ hite as tbe kernel of a nut. According to 
Kitchener, the barrelled oysters are commo ly 
the smallest nati\ es not tull grown; but per- 
baps he goes rather too fJ.r in asserting that all 
the objections \\ hicb exist to the use of unripe 
\'"egetables, apply to immature animals, 
. Geological rcsearches constantly revcal the 
long-entombed remains of well-shaped and full- 
gt'0\\ n fossil oysters, \\ hich male us regret that 
such dainties came into the \,"orId before tbeir 
time, and to little purpose, The oJstcr-bank in 
the \ icinity of Headin
. in Bcrk:,hire, an inland 
county, is a most remarkable deposit, occupying 
six acres, and forming a strata o\'"er two feet 
deep. 1.'homas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, 
whom Johnson honoured with a life among
t the 
British poets, published in IGGï, in his liistory 
of the Royal Society, an original paper, in \\bich 
he complained tbat, "althoug-h .llritish oysters 
ha\e been famous in the world since the Island 
was discovered, Jet the skill how to set them 
aright bas heen so little considered amongst 
oursel res, that we see at t his day it ios confined 
to some nalrow creels of one single county." 
Tbat county \\ as, of course, Kent. Essex 
has since become a competitor, the Burnham 
oystcrs from the ri\ er Crouch being hitrhly 
prized; indced, the h.entish bishop, in his zeal, 
\\ ould seem to ha\ e forKQtten that, in tbe days 
of Queen Bess, ColciJester sent presents of 
o.'rsters to the royal tavourites, Lcicester and 
\\ alsin
ham. The Romans were great admirers 
of oysters, nnd ear'ly learned the excellcnce of 
those from the Kl'nÌlsh coast. Juvenal alludes to 
the discriminatin
 taste of the court 
ycopbJ.Dt, 
)Iontanus,at the feasts of the Empuor Domitian, 
in lines" hieh have been thus paraphraseJ: 
Who 
At the first bite each oyster'
 birthplace knew', 
Whether a Lucrille or Grcæan he had bitteD, 
Or one from I:utupinian deep' in DrilaiD. 
A Homan millionnaire, Scrgius Orat
, whom 
Cicero desitrnated the master of luxunes, con- 
ceivcd the idea of originating an oyster-park in 
the Lucrine Lale, a saIt-\\ ater 1:J
on on the 
coast of Campania, adjoining- the Gulf of Uaiæ, 
dlld separatcd from the sca by a narrow strip or 



; 1 ;1 
llÎ
 


bank of sand. The lake \1 as shallow, and situated 
in the vicinity of the enchanting, although highly 
volcanic, country which the rich and luxurious 
Romans were in
 the habit of selecting for their 

plendid rural "Villas. In those retreats, they 
enjoyed the Lucrine and Circæan oysters, the 
latter from the coast of Latium; according to 
Pliny, "the British shores had1.lOt as yet sent their 
supplies at tIle time when Orata ennobled the 
Lucrine oysters." It is difficult to concei\ e 
the mode of carriage that enabled them to 
retain their fulness and flavour in a journey 
to the imperial city, but Apicius is said to have 
s11pplied the Emperor 'l'rajan with fresh oysters 
all the year round. The Rutupinian district 
of England derived its name from the Roman 
city of Rutupinus, now Richborongh, or the 
to\1'U of the Heach, ill the Isle of Thanet, being 
built on what was then au estuarv, On its de- 
" I struction by the Danes, and within a mile of its 
site, rose the Saxon town Sondwick, built by 
Cauute on the salt sands, where the ovsters 
"most do congreg-ate ;" -now the modern 
Sand- 
wich, one of the Cinque Ports. It is believed 
that in the days of the Romans the surrounding 
country was covered \\ ith water; and :Mr. 
Roach Smith, in his recent antiquarian re- 
searches respecting Richborough, informs us, 
that in digging in the neighbouring marshes, 
what were once large beds of oysters are to this 
day brought to light. Steam has revolutionised 
the oyster trade; but 3.lthough the production 
must have increased vastly since the days of 
.Bishop Sprat, the supply does not keep pace 
with the demand, arising from increased wealth 
and population; and the price of the real natives 
has risen higher and higher, until it has become 
extravagant. .When Christmas approaches, pyra- 
mids of oyster-barrels crmrd the platforms of our 
railway termini, destined for the wide circles of 
rural cousins, in return for brawn, bares, and 
country turkeys. 
The imperial government of France, with the 
vie\\" of multiplying those favourites of epicu- 
rean taste and social enjoyment, has recently 
de"Voted much attention to the artificial culture 
of oysters, and confided the inquiries to M. 
Coste, a member of the Institute, who had made 
the natural history of fish his peculiar study. 

I. Coste has officially visited all the celebrated 
oyster-rearing coasts, and amongst others those 
of the British Isles; indeed, the number of hi3 
christian names-Jean, Jacques, Marie, Cyprien, 
Victor-is sufficient to entitle him, under a 
separate one, to naturalisation in almost e"ery 
European state. In the course of his explora- 
tory researches he discovered, in the Lago de 
Fusaro, on the Neapolitan shore, celebrated for 
its trout, the remains of ancient salt-water tanks 
still visible, which lead to the belief that it is 
the site of the ancient Lucrine Lake. N ume
 
, : I rous remains of ancient ,,'ilias and tombs can be 
traced in its vicinity; and it had been long sup- 
posed to be the crater of an extinct volcano, a 
I , surmise" hich "as proved to be correct by the 
1 emission, in 1838, of such quantities of mephitic 
I ga
es as destroyed all the oysters. The race 


ALL THE YE
: b:::::t::ed, and the tanks ::::::::
 :rc 1 ' 1 
probably the rcmains of thove laid down two 
t
lOusand years ago by Ser!!ius Orata, who de- 
m ed a large income from his oyster-beds On the 
spot. It would seem that pieces of rock, to 
which the young oysters adhered, h3.d, with a 
view to transport thcm undisturbed from the n3- 
tural "aters in which they luw. been born, been 
brought and deposited in the oJster-parks. The 
fishermen on Lake Fusaro, and other Italian 
salt ]a
oo\ls, even at this day form artificial 
banks by sinking stal.es in the ground in the 
form of a circle, which rise abo\"e the smface 
of the water, so that they mav be reached and 
raised by the hand when necessary. Stakes are 
also laia down in rows, connected by ropes, 
from which fagots composed of thin pieces of 
wood are suspended, the ropes enabling the 
number of mo-vable pieces to be increased as 
t.hey may be required. It is probable that the 
present inhabitants only traditionally follow the 
practice of their celebrated ancestors; ancient 
funereal vases are preserved in the museums at 
Rome on which may be clearly traced the out- 
lines of the modern Italian system. It will 
form one amongst the many strange revelations 
of our times if, after the lapse of so man\" cen- 
turies, "e shall adopt on the English cõast- 
from which the Romans derived their most de- 
licious oysters-the example and appliances of 
ancient Rome as a means of multiplying the 
production of our natives. 
In the spawning season, which is grneraUy 
from June to September, the oysters shed their 
spat, but they do not, like otber marine creatures, 
abandon their young; they protect them during 
the process of incubation in the folds of their 
mantle, between their branchial plates. The 
youngsters remain in the mucous matter requi- 
site for their evolution, until they ultimately 
effect their embryo development. The mass 
which the young oysters then form, resembles 
in colour and consistence thick cream; "hitish 
at first, it gradually turns yellow, aud ends by 
degenerating- into a grey brown, or grey violet 
colour, losing' its fluidity in consequence of its 
absorption 3.S nutriment. That state announces 
that the development has terminated, that the 
oysters may cease to be nurses, that the infants 
are fit for weaning, and it indicates their ap- 
proaching expulsion from the maternal sheUs. 
Previous to starting', the tiny brood may be seen, 
through a powerful microscope, openi.ng anù 
shutting their minute valves, and practising 
their evolutions in a rotatory motion preparatory 
to their entrance into independent existence. 
The moment they emerge from their cradles, 
they roll about in search of future residences, 
being furnished with an apparatus for swimming', 
which enables them to seek some solid bodv to 
which they cau attach themselves. The nuniber 
of young ones thus ejected from the mantle of a 
single mother cannot, it is conceived, be less 
than from one to t"o millions; but if the little 
float.ing animalcules are unable to find resting-- 
places, they inevitably perish. The Italian 
pr
ctice is admirably adapted to pl'oviding 

I 


[)Iarch 26, If'J4,] 



c 


. I.: bill] 


ALl.. THE YF Ar.. RQU1\D. 


.March.,l '1.] 


I. 


8!r'lin the imm
.. e 10 "S "IÚh rf' ..It; the 
pl)rtit. of rocL.. nd f 0; with "hich they 

vllrcle and