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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Strand, Volume 5, Issue 25, January 1893.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume V, Issue 25,
+January 1893, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Strand Magazine, Volume V, Issue 25, January 1893
+       An Illustrated Monthly
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George Newnes
+
+Release Date: September 5, 2009 [EBook #29911]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, JANUARY 1893 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Victorian/Edwardian Pictorial Magazines,
+Jonathan Ingram, Josephine Paolucci and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4>THE</h4>
+
+<h1>STRAND MAGAZINE</h1>
+
+<h2><i>An Illustrated Monthly</i></h2>
+
+<h4>EDITED BY</h4>
+
+<h3>GEORGE NEWNES</h3>
+
+<h4>Vol. V.</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap"><i>January to June</i></span></h4>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>London</i>:<br /><br />
+
+GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 8, 9, 10, &amp; 11, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, AND EXETER
+STREET, STRAND.<br /><br />
+
+1893.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE</h2>
+
+<h1>STRAND MAGAZINE</h1>
+
+<h2><i>An Illustrated Monthly</i></h2>
+
+<h3>Vol. 5, Issue. 25.</h3>
+
+<h4>January 1893</h4>
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#VII_MARGARITA_THE_BOND_QUEEN_OF_THE_WANDERING_DHAHS"><b>Shafts from an Eastern Quiver VII.--Margarita, the Bond Queen of the Wandering Dhahs</b></a><br />
+<a href="#XIX_THE_LORD_BISHOP_OF_RIPON"><b>Illustrated Interviews: XIX.--The Lord Bishop of Ripon</b></a><br />
+<a href="#A_Little_SurpriseA"><b>A Little Surprise.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ZIG_ZAGS_AT_THE_ZOO"><b>Zig Zags at the Zoo: Cursorean</b></a><br />
+<a href="#One_and_Two"><b>One and Two.</b></a><br />
+<b><a href="#Portraits_of_Celebrities_at_Different_Times_of_their_Lives">Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives.</a></b><br />
+<a href="#XIV_THE_ADVENTURE_OF_THE_CARDBOARD_BOX"><b>The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes XIV.--The Adventure of the Cardboard Box</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Types_of_English_Beauty"><b>Types of English Beauty.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#PECULIAR_PLAYING_CARDS"><b>Peculiar Playing Cards</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_COURTSHIP_OF_HALIL"><b>The Courtship Of Halil</b></a><br />
+<a href="#From_Behind_the_Speakers_Chair"><b>From Behind the Speaker's Chair.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#A_Childs_Tear"><b>A Child's Tear.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_DWINDLING_HOUR"><b>The Dwindling Hour.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#PALS_PUZZLE_PAGE"><b>Pal's Puzzle Page</b></a><br />
+<a href="#MANDRAKE_ROOTS"><b>Mandrake Roots.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Page_106"><b>Cloaks and Overcoats of All Times</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Page_108"><b>The Hunter and the Bird</b></a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image003.jpg" width="400" height="575" alt="&quot;WE SWEAR!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WE SWEAR!&quot;<br />
+(Margarita, the Bond Queen of the Wandering Dhahs.)</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3><i>Shafts from an Eastern Quiver.</i></h3>
+
+<h2><a name="VII_MARGARITA_THE_BOND_QUEEN_OF_THE_WANDERING_DHAHS" id="VII_MARGARITA_THE_BOND_QUEEN_OF_THE_WANDERING_DHAHS"></a>VII&mdash;MARGARITA, THE BOND QUEEN OF THE WANDERING DHAHS.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By Charles J. Mansford, B. A.</span></h3>
+
+
+<h4>I.</h4>
+
+<p>"The Cingalese declare that the Queen of the Dhahs is a Sahibmem," said
+Hassan&mdash;meaning by this expression an Englishwoman.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think that can be true," responded Denviers; "it is hardly
+possible that any civilized human being would care to reign over such a
+queer race as those just described appear to be&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Englishman is wrong in what he says," interrupted an
+indolent-looking native, "for I once saw her myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"You!" I exclaimed, "then tell us what you know about this queen." The
+native was, however, by no means disposed to conversation, or indeed to
+do anything that disturbed his serenity.</p>
+
+<p>From Southern India we had crossed over to Ceylon, and after a somewhat
+prolonged stay at Colombo, struck into the interior of the island. We
+visited Kandi, and having travelled for some days in the hilly district
+which surrounds it, arrived at the palm-covered hut of a Cingalese
+labourer, where, in spite of his protests, we stayed for a day to rest
+ourselves. Round the stems of the palms about us we saw, high up, that
+dead brushwood had been placed, by the rustling of which at night our
+unwilling host could tell if his few neighbours contemplated robbing him
+of the fruits of his toil. The only work, however, which he seemed to do
+was to stand at the door of his hut and gaze vacantly at the plantation
+of palm trees which he owned, and to shake his head&mdash;usually in the
+negative&mdash;whenever we attempted to entice him into a conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Denviers, looking with annoyance at our host, "if this
+Cingalese is too idle to tell us the full facts, I suppose we had better
+find them out for ourselves." Then turning to the man he asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How far is the district over which these strange Dhahs are said to
+wander?" The native pointed slowly to the north and then answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image004.jpg" width="400" height="487" alt="&quot;THE NATIVE POINTED TO THE NORTH.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE NATIVE POINTED TO THE NORTH.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"The Dhahs were wandering afar in the forest when last I saw them, which
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>was fully a day's journey from here, but the sun was hot and I grew
+tired." His remark certainly did not convey much information to us, but
+before an hour had elapsed we set out, guided only by the forest, which
+could be seen far away in the distance. Hour after hour passed until at
+last evening came, and even then we were only entering upon the fringe
+of the great forest which rose before us, and seemed to shut out the sky
+as we wandered into the thickness of the undergrowth and gazed up at the
+lofty tops of the trees which bent each other's branches as they
+interlaced one with another.</p>
+
+<p>We stopped at last to rest and to refresh ourselves, after which we
+reclined upon the ground, facing a wide clearing in the forest, where we
+laid talking idly for some time, until the voice of Hassan warned us
+that someone was approaching. We listened attentively for a minute, but
+no sound could be heard by us save that of the fluttering of the wings
+of some bird among the branches above.</p>
+
+<p>"You heard nothing, Hassan," said Denviers, "or else you mistook the
+rustling above for someone wandering in the forest glade." The Arab
+turned to my companion and then responded:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hassan has long been accustomed to distinguish different sounds from a
+distance, the one which was heard a minute ago was caused by a human
+foot." He pointed to a tangled clump a little to the right of us, as he
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, sahibs, for the sound of footsteps is surely drawing near. From
+yonder thicket the wanderer will doubtless emerge." Presently a sound
+fell upon our ears, and a moment afterwards we heard the crackling of
+dead twigs as if someone was passing over them.</p>
+
+<p>"The feet of the one who is approaching us are uncovered," volunteered
+our guide, whose keen sense of hearing was vastly superior to our own,
+and its accuracy was again proved fully, for, pushing aside the
+undergrowth which hindered his path, there stepped out upon the level
+track before us a singularly well-formed being, whose whole appearance
+was that of a man in his primitive, savage state. He was fully six feet
+in height, and wonderfully erect, his nut-brown skin forming a warm
+setting for the rich, dark eyes which so distinguish Eastern races. His
+black hair clustered thickly above his forehead, on which we observed a
+circular spot, crimson in colour, and much resembling the <i>pottu</i> which
+Shiva women daily paint above their brows as a religious emblem. As
+Hassan had already said, the man's feet were bare of covering, while the
+single garment which he wore was a brightly spotted panther skin, which
+passed over the left shoulder to the right side, and then hung down
+carelessly to the knees. In one hand he carried a stout bow, and the
+band which crossed his body over the right shoulder supported a quiver
+which hung gracefully behind. A savage, and in such a rude garb, the man
+seemed almost grand in his very simplicity.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/image005.jpg" width="300" height="450" alt="&quot;A DHAH!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A DHAH!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"A Dhah!" exclaimed Hassan, quietly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> "We have, indeed, met with good
+fortune." Again we heard the brushwood crackle, and a second man,
+resembling the first in appearance and dress, came forward, and together
+they held a conversation, interspersed largely with the gestures which
+play so prominent a part in the language of barbaric tribes.</p>
+
+<p>"What can they be searching for?" Denviers asked Hassan, as the men
+seemed to be closely examining the trunks of several of the palm trees.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell, sahib," responded the Arab. Then he continued with a
+warning movement:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hist! there are others coming, and they are bearing loads with them."
+Through the brushwood we next saw several Dhahs advance, each carrying
+upon his head a huge bundle of some twining plant belonging to a species
+which we had not observed hitherto during our wanderings in Ceylon. From
+its appearance we likened it to a giant convolvulus, for, while the
+pliant stem was as thick as a man's arm, there hung from it huge leaves
+and petals resembling that flower in shape. We moved cautiously into the
+undergrowth behind, thus getting a little farther away from the Dhahs,
+and, lying with our bodies stretched upon the ground at full length, we
+supported our heads upon our hands and narrowly watched the scene before
+us.</p>
+
+<p>Following the commands of the Dhah whom we had first seen, one of the
+others deftly threw upwards a long coil of the climbing plant, which, on
+reaching a part of the trunk of one of the palm trees some distance
+above his head, twined round the stem. The rope-like plant was then
+fastened to another palm tree some little distance in front of the
+first, and lower down. Continuing this process in all directions we saw
+them construct before our astonished eyes a wonderful tent, the leafy
+green roof and sides of which glowed with a massy setting of white and
+crimson flowers. The front almost faced us, so that the interior of the
+tent was disclosed to our view, and then this strange tribe next placed
+within the tent a number of rich skins of various animals killed in the
+chase, the whole effect being viewed with satisfaction by the Dhahs when
+at last their labour was finished.</p>
+
+<p>"What a curious tent!" Denviers exclaimed. "These Dhahs are indeed a
+strange people."</p>
+
+<p>Just as he spoke a messenger came to them through the brushwood,
+whereupon the men who had constructed the tent threw themselves down on
+either side of it. Within a few minutes we heard the sound of a number
+of footsteps approaching, and then a band of Dhahs stepped out from the
+brushwood through which the first had come, and joined those resting by
+the tent. Following these, we next saw a number of others, who ranged
+themselves before the men in a standing posture, and as they did so we
+judged from their attire that they were women.</p>
+
+<p>Their raven hair was loosely twisted and threaded with pearls, while
+pendants of the latter hung from their ears. The garb which covered
+their forms was made of similar skins to those which the men wore, but
+more elaborately wrought, in addition to being gathered at the waist by
+a glittering belt made of the plumage of beautiful birds. Here and there
+a dark-eyed and lightly-clad child could be seen standing among the
+women. From time to time the glances of the Dhahs were turned in the
+direction whence they had entered the forest clearing, and the sound of
+their voices then ceased. They were evidently expecting someone, and we,
+remembering the strange rumour as to the nationality of their queen,
+began to watch the brushwood with considerable interest, being anxious
+to see her as soon as she emerged. That some event of unusual moment was
+about to take place upon her arrival we felt sure, from the disappointed
+looks which overspread the Dhahs' faces each time that their expectation
+of her coming was not realized.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think is about to happen?" I whispered to Denviers, as we
+kept quite still, fearing lest our presence should be discovered.</p>
+
+<p>"Something strange, no doubt," he responded, "for I notice that the
+crimson mark which we saw upon the men's foreheads also adorns those of
+the women, and seems to have been recently placed there." Here Hassan
+interposed, in his usually clear, grave tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is very rarely, indeed, sahibs, that the Dhahs have been seen
+wandering on the borders of the forest, for they usually keep within the
+wild and pathless interior; so, at least, your slave heard in Kandi."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I added, "we certainly have much to be thankful for, since there
+is every chance of our remaining here unobserved, and witnessing
+whatever ceremony is about to take place. The sun has not long set, and
+yet the moon is up already. The network of branches above us keeps out
+its light to some extent; still we shall be able to see clearly what
+transpires."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It will be unlucky for us if these Dhahs happen to discover our
+whereabouts," said Denviers, "for a shower of arrows shot from their
+stout bows towards us would make our present position anything but a
+pleasant one."</p>
+
+<p>"They will not see us, sahib," continued Hassan, "unless we incautiously
+make some noise if anything unusual happens. They are not likely to cast
+many searching glances into the shadows which the trees cast, for they
+are apparently preoccupied, if we may judge from the excitement which
+they are evidently trying to suppress. We certainly must remain
+perfectly still when the queen appears, for thus only shall we see
+without being seen ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"That is easy enough to say, Hassan," I replied; "but in such a moment
+as that which faces us, we may easily forget to be cautious."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think it would be a good plan if we were to separate a little
+from each other?" asked Denviers. Our guide seemed strongly in favour of
+this plan, and while I remained in the position which had been occupied
+hitherto, Denviers moved a few yards to the right, and Hassan about the
+same distance to the left of me. The latter, however, found his new
+position would readily expose him to observation, and when he had
+communicated this fact to me by signs, I beckoned to him to return to my
+side, which he did. Denviers, however, remained where he had gone, and
+this circumstance, slight as it was, led a little later on to a most
+unexpected result. The silence which just before we had observed among
+the Dhahs occurred again, and watching narrowly the brushwood we saw
+emerge from it the one whom they were eagerly expecting. As our eyes
+rested upon this last comer we were indeed startled, for before us was
+the Queen of the Dhahs, and we recognised in that moment that the rumour
+concerning her was true!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 456px;">
+<img src="images/image007.jpg" width="456" height="450" alt="PROSTRATING HIMSELF BEFORE HER." title="" />
+<span class="caption">PROSTRATING HIMSELF BEFORE HER.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<p>"She comes! Margarita!" burst from the lips of every assembled Dhah, as
+the queen slowly advanced and passed between her subjects, who lined the
+path leading to the tent. As she moved amid them they bent low, while
+here and there a warrior Dhah pressed with his lips her trailing garment
+as she passed. Reaching the tent the queen turned and faced the excited
+throng of subjects grouped round it, and then we saw more distinctly her
+features and the attire which she wore.</p>
+
+<p>The age of the queen was apparently less than twenty, her clear, fair
+skin forcibly contrasting with the dark complexion of her subjects, whom
+she alone resembled in the colour of the soft, full eyes with which she
+glanced upon them. A look almost of sadness overshadowed her face, which
+all the adulation which she received from her subjects could not
+entirely banish. Her form, which was above the medium height, was clad
+in a flowing robe of a wonderfully soft and silky-looking material,
+woven possibly, we thought, from the inner bark of some tree. Its loose
+folds were bare of ornament, save that the queen wore a girdle over it
+thickly interwoven with pearls as white as those of Manaar, of which a
+profuse number also braided her light flowing hair, meshes of which
+partly concealed her forehead. When the queen stood in silence before
+her subjects, after the greeting which they had given her subsided,
+there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> issued from among the Dhahs that one whom first we saw in the
+forest. Prostrating himself before her he afterwards rose, and, having
+bent low his head, began:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Margarita, white queen of the dusky race whose habitation is the
+pathless forest, hail! Here, upon the border which limits thy domains,
+we pledge anew to thee the promise of fealty, of which the crimson star
+upon our foreheads is the token. By it we swear to thee that thy foes
+shall be our foes, and that over us, thy slaves, shalt thou have the
+power of life and death." Then, turning to the Dhahs, who throughout
+this speech had maintained a death-like silence, he asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Swear ye this by the crimson star of blood which is placed upon your
+brows?"</p>
+
+<p>The last word had scarcely left his lips when the subject Dhahs rose
+and, placing upon their foreheads their left hands, held aloft the right
+above their heads as they cried:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"By the crimson tide, which rules the life of man, we swear!"</p>
+
+<p>We watched the strange scene intently as each of the Dhahs, in turn,
+came forward and fell prostrate before the queen, then gave place to
+those who followed. The Dhah who had administered the oath remained near
+the queen until the ceremony was concluded, and seemed to number the
+subjects as they came forward. Then he fell before her and, for a second
+time, kissed the hem of her robe. Smiling gravely upon him, the queen
+extended to him her hand. Pressing his lips fervently upon it he rose,
+then, turning to those around, he exclaimed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"All have not sworn fealty. One among us has not taken the oath, and at
+sundown he did not bear upon his forehead the sacred mark!" There was an
+ominous frown apparent upon the brows of the Dhahs as these words were
+uttered, and when he added: "Ye know the penalty which such
+transgression deserves; how then judge ye?" each man's hand gripped his
+bow in a threatening manner, while even the faces of the women grew
+terribly stern. By one of those assembled was uttered a cry which leapt
+from lip to lip, for it was immediately caught up by all:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Death to the false one! Death when the day shall dawn!" A gleam of
+satisfaction, one almost of savage joy, passed over the face of the Dhah
+who stood beside the queen as he added:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The sentence upon the traitor is a just one; do thou then confirm it!"
+He turned as if about to seek himself for the one who was the cause of
+the tumult, when the momentary silence was strangely broken. Upon our
+ears was borne the sharp whizz of an arrow shot true from a
+tightly-strung bow; then the Dhah who had just finished speaking, with a
+wild cry that pierced the forest, threw his arms up as if grasping the
+empty air, and fell dead at the queen's feet!</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 308px;">
+<img src="images/image008.jpg" width="308" height="450" alt="&quot;THE DHAH FELL DEAD.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE DHAH FELL DEAD.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Look yonder, sahib!" whispered Hassan, who was still beside me, "there
+is the one who sent forth the deadly shaft!" I turned my gaze hastily in
+the direction which the Arab indicated, and saw Denviers struggling with
+a fierce Dhah from whose hands he was trying to wrest a bow, and who had
+hidden in the brushwood near him without being observed hitherto! They
+were seen in a moment by the assembled Dhahs, and, with a wild rush, the
+latter poured down upon the combatants, seizing them as they still
+grasped the bow.</p>
+
+<p>"Hassan," I cried to our guide, "come on, we must get Denviers out of
+the hands of this horde somehow!" We dashed across the intervening
+space, and made a brief but desperate attempt to release our companion.
+It was as useless as it was rash, for we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> directly afterwards
+dragged, in spite of our struggles&mdash;as well as Denviers and his
+opponent&mdash;into the open glade, close to the dead body of the man lying
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"We are betrayed!" cried one of the Dhahs. "The white spies have been
+led hither by the traitor among us that they may learn our strength, and
+then return with a force to destroy us! One of our number has already
+fallen; shall we not slay the captives over his dead body?" A fierce cry
+of assent rose from the others, as they fitted each a shaft to their
+bows and took deliberate aim at us as we were held fast by our captors.
+I saw the face of the queen grow pale as she rested her eyes, first upon
+the fallen Dhah and then upon us. Had men of her own race come that they
+might destroy the tribe which obeyed her slightest word? She made an
+imperative gesture, which caused the Dhahs to hold their arrows
+undischarged, though they still kept their bows bent, waiting eagerly
+for her to utter the word of command to slay us.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" she cried, in a commanding tone. "Upon your foreheads ye wear
+still the pledge of obedience to me, with whom rests alone the power of
+life and death. Ye shall have justice to the full: I will hear what they
+can say in their defence, but if wantonly they have caused life to be
+taken, white though they be, I swear unto ye that they shall surely
+die." The Dhahs shifted their arrows from the bowstrings and seemed
+reluctant to give us even this short respite. I looked into the queen's
+face and read there that her threat against us was no idle one. She
+commanded the women and most of the men to retire&mdash;leaving us still held
+fast by our captors.</p>
+
+<p>"We are not cowards," said Denviers, calmly, to her. "Hear what we have
+to say, and then decide our fate. Bid these savages release us from
+their grasp&mdash;we shall make no attempt to escape, I pledge my word." The
+queen glanced coldly at him as she responded:</p>
+
+<p>"Be it as ye say." Then, turning to the Dhahs, she continued: "Take them
+within the tent, and then retire. Remain within an arrow shot from here,
+and if ye see one of the prisoners attempt to escape, slay him and spare
+not." We were conducted into the queen's tent, and there released. As
+the Dhahs withdrew Denviers turned to Hassan, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Bid this savage who shot the arrow explain that we know nothing of
+him." The queen looked sharply at us, and then pointing to Hassan,
+asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this whom ye have brought into the forest?"</p>
+
+<p>I answered for us, saying: "He is our guide, with whom we have been
+wandering for some time. Why do you mistrust us, since you have ample
+proof that the fallen Dhah was shot by your own subject there?" and I
+pointed to the man, who, for a moment, had thrown himself down in the
+tent.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak!" she commanded him. "Why did you shoot forth the winged
+messenger of death?"</p>
+
+<p>To our surprise the man rose and confronted her boldly, as he
+answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not a warrior? Can I not bend the bow and endure hardships better
+than anyone among the tribe over which thou rulest? Was not I prince of
+these Dhahs until the day when thou tookest possession of my right? Thou
+hast despised me and looked kindly upon another, wherefore have I sworn
+to refuse to take the pledge of fealty to thee when the time came round,
+and to stretch him dead at thy feet. Deliver me into the hands of the
+tribe if thou wilt, but thou art powerless to bring back life to thy
+favourite!" He stopped and drew himself up defiantly before her. The
+eyes of the imperious queen shone brightly with the fierce resentment
+which the Dhah's words roused in her.</p>
+
+<p>"Darest thou then to confront thy queen so?" she asked, scornfully. "May
+not I choose whom I will upon whom to bestow my favours? Coward that
+thou art to shoot the shaft secretly, because thou darest not face thine
+enemy as a brave Dhah ever does! Thy crime has nearly cost these other
+prisoners dear; and I, ruling as I do this tribe without the
+exterminating feuds which distinguished it under thy misgovernment, doom
+thee to death. At sundown to-morrow shalt thou die; till then thou shall
+live, scorned by the race upon which thou hast brought this stain." She
+moved to the front of the tent, and then we saw the Dhah dragged away by
+those whom the queen quickly summoned.</p>
+
+<p>We were bidden to rest ourselves upon the piles of soft, rich skins
+which were spread there, and having promised to secure our safety, the
+queen, whose anger gradually subsided, observing the inquiring glances
+which we turned towards her, said, in a low tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The deed which ye have seen enacted to-night has smitten me sorely. For
+ten years have I lived among these Dhahs, for to-day is the anniversary
+of that upon which I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> came to them, and so it is that ye chance to see
+their promise to obey me renewed. To-morrow it is expected that I, too,
+will take in turn the oath, by which yearly I have sworn to them to
+remain in this forest until the seasons change and change again. At
+midnight to-night my last promise expires, and for a few brief hours I
+shall not be their bond queen. By your glances I judge that ye would
+learn my history. Strange as it is, I must narrate it briefly, for,
+because of the death which ye have witnessed, I now have a request to
+make which may sound unusual upon your ears."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;">
+<img src="images/image010.jpg" width="380" height="400" alt="&quot;TO-MORROW SHALT THOU DIE!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;TO-MORROW SHALT THOU DIE!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<p>The dark eyes of the queen glanced at us as she began her story, the
+sequel to which we did not at all anticipate:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I was a mere child when it chanced that I strayed from the hut which my
+English parents inhabited on the borders of this forest. Of them I know
+nothing. I remember the cry of surprise which came from the lips of a
+Dhah woman when she found me, and then carried me among her tribeswomen
+to show to them. It is forbidden among us for a Dhah to ever pass beyond
+the limits of this forest, and so it transpired that, knowing nothing of
+other races, they were astonished at my strange whiteness. I have heard
+that at first they contemplated my death, thinking that my presence
+would bring dire misfortune upon them. The woman who found me averred,
+on the contrary, that my appearance betokened great advantages to the
+tribe, as I was sent to dwell in the forest as a goddess. Afterwards,
+believing this, they paid me the most abject worship for years. When I
+grew older I longed to escape, but they were determined that I should
+not do so, and compelled me to take an oath to stay with them for a
+year, which I have renewed as often as the promise expired. Finding that
+I disliked the adoration which they paid to me, they deposed their
+prince&mdash;he whose hand shot the fatal arrow, as, alas! ye saw&mdash;and
+although for a time I refused to accept the position, I was eventually
+made their queen&mdash;even as I am now.</p>
+
+<p>"Many times I desired to leave them, but of late that wish has grown
+feeble, for he, whom ye know now lies lifeless before the tent, bent his
+dark eyes, and looked into mine, which returned his glances. One day I
+thought to raise him even as a prince to my side, for all the tribe
+trusted in him as much as they disliked the one deposed. Now that he is
+slain, the wish to depart has again re-entered my breast, and ye, who
+are of the same kindred as I, surely ye will aid me? How came ye hither,
+on foot or otherwise?"</p>
+
+<p>"We left our horses on the edge of the forest," said Denviers, "but we
+did not expect to be so long absent from them. How wilt thou depart from
+these Dhahs? Surely they will avenge themselves upon us, for they will
+assuredly think that we have influenced you to desert them." The queen
+paused for a minute, then answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I could not bear to leave them openly, for I have grown to be almost
+one of themselves, and they are dear indeed to me. I will accompany ye
+to where your horses are tethered; and waiting there for me I will come
+to ye again upon the steed which has never known saddle."</p>
+
+<p>The plan of escape seemed simple enough, but the slightest mishap might
+bring us into conflict with the whole tribe of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> Dhahs, who would
+doubtless be infuriated if they thought that their queen was lost to
+them through us, as Denviers had suggested. It seemed to us a strange
+termination to our adventure, but in obedience to a gesture from the
+queen we rose, and, accompanied by her, passed the guards in safety. As
+she emerged from the tent, the queen bade us wait for her for a minute,
+and stopping, we saw the woman bend down sadly over the silent form
+lying there under the trees, which half shut out the midnight sky. Her
+hand touched the arrow and gently drew it forth&mdash;tipped with blood! Then
+placing it within the upper folds of her dress she passed silently on
+through the clearing, and so accompanied us to the spot where our horses
+were, whence she departed.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image011.jpg" width="500" height="376" alt="&quot;HER HAND TOUCHED THE ARROW.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HER HAND TOUCHED THE ARROW.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I am afraid that this affair may yet turn out badly for us," I remarked
+to Denviers, as we untethered our steeds and waited for the queen's
+return. "Where shall we make for when we start?"</p>
+
+<p>"For the hut of the Cingalese, which we left some time ago," he
+responded. "It will afford her some shelter, and we can keep watch
+outside."</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely finished speaking when we saw the queen riding towards
+us upon a snow-white steed. As the moonlight touched her spotless robe
+and her floating hair, with the pearls which adorned it, she seemed to
+us to be more like some vision than a living reality. I had just time to
+notice that she now carried the weapon of the tribe over which she had
+so long ruled&mdash;a bow&mdash;and that across her fair shoulders was slung a
+quiver of arrows, when a sudden cry rose from the forest, and at the
+same moment Hassan exclaimed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, sahibs! The Dhahs are upon us!"</p>
+
+<p>We leapt upon our horses and dashed away from the forest just as a heavy
+shower of arrows narrowly missed us. Hassan went on in front, while
+Denviers and I galloped on either side of the queen. Glancing back at
+the Dhahs I observed that they were massed already upon the margin of
+the forest, the flight of their queen having become rapidly known. The
+women raised a mournful and appealing cry of entreaty to her to go back
+to them, and, glancing at the queen, I saw that her face was wet with
+tears. We heard the hoarse shouts of the warrior Dhahs when they found
+that their arrows fell short, but they did not dare to pass the limits
+of the forest beyond which their strange law forbade them to go. We rode
+on for some hours at a rapid rate, then, on nearing the hut of the
+Cingalese, Denviers leapt down and succeeded in awaking its sole
+occupant, who was induced to vacate it. The queen dismounted and entered
+the hut wearied, as we thought, with the long ride, for the dawn had
+come before we finished our journey. Hassan secured the horses, and soon
+after we were all lying at a little distance from the hut fast asleep in
+the shade of some giant ferns.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The morning was far advanced when we awoke, but hour after hour passed
+and the door of the hut remained closed. Becoming uneasy, at last I
+ventured to open it. The queen had disappeared!</p>
+
+<p>"Denviers!" I shouted. "Come here a minute!" My companion hastened
+towards the hut, and was considerably surprised to find it empty.
+Glancing round it we saw against one of its thin palm leaf sides an
+arrow projecting. Going close to it we found roughly scratched beneath
+it a message to us, which said simply:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The Queen of the Dhahs could not rest away from her people and the
+forest where lies her dead lover!</i>" We stared at the writing
+incredulously for a minute or two, then a sudden thought occurred to
+me:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hassan!" I shouted, "see to the horses." The Arab went slowly to the
+spot where he had secured them, but hastily returned saying, in an
+animated tone, somewhat unusual for him unless when excited:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sahibs, the white steed is no longer there!" and he looked gravely at
+us as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Denviers, as Hassan finished speaking, "this has been a
+strange adventure from beginning to end. How could such a woman care to
+spend her existence with those Dhahs? It seemed curious to me at the
+first, but after seeing her and observing the contrast between her and
+her subjects, I am still more surprised."</p>
+
+<p>"The Dhahs are known throughout Ceylon," interposed Hassan, "for the
+honour which they pay to their queen, and that may influence her to
+remain with them; besides, they are a handsome race, very different to
+such as this man," and he pointed to the Cingalese, who was again
+vacantly staring at his plantation of palm trees.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think will become of the man who shot the Dhah, sahib?"
+asked Hassan, as he turned to Denviers. My companion was silent for a
+moment, then responded:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I really cannot say. He is doomed to die at sundown to-day, but I
+daresay someone will intercede for him with the queen." Then, holding
+out towards the Arab the arrow which we had found within the hut, he
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of that, Hassan, for if we are able I should like to keep it
+as a memento of this event." The Arab examined it closely to see what
+constituted its value, and Denviers, thinking that it might disappear
+like sundry other lost treasures of ours, added: "It is a poisoned
+arrow, and if put in that sash of yours might prove very dangerous."
+Hassan understood the hint, as subsequent events proved, and, calling
+upon Mahomet as a witness to his integrity under such trying
+circumstances, carried it cautiously away and placed it among our
+baggage.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><i>Illustrated Interviews.</i></h3>
+
+
+<h2><a name="XIX_THE_LORD_BISHOP_OF_RIPON" id="XIX_THE_LORD_BISHOP_OF_RIPON"></a>XIX.&mdash;THE LORD BISHOP OF RIPON.</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/image013.jpg" width="305" height="400" alt="THE LORD BISHOP OF RIPON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE LORD BISHOP OF RIPON.<br />
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was a long, cold journey to Ripon. When I reached the Palace the time
+of five o'clock tea had long since passed&mdash;it only wanted half an hour
+to the first dinner bell. But a cup of deliciously warming tea was ready
+for me. This kindly thoughtfulness seemed to break down every barrier
+calculated to make one feel anything but perfectly "at home." Then, when
+the Bishop returned from a long day's work, the impressions gathered
+over the refreshing cup with his wife became a reality. It may at once
+be said that there is very little difference between him who preaches
+from the pulpit and him who sits down and talks with you in his own
+house.</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop of Ripon is acknowledged to be one of the most eloquent
+preachers of the day. He is as gentle in his manner as he is convincing
+in his utterances. He is utterly free from anything suggestive of an
+over-estimated "I." He seems always to speak from his heart, and
+continually with the single thought of never giving a hurtful word. In
+truth, he is as impressive in the home as in the cathedral. Yet, when he
+is at home, there are his children, young and old. He is heart and soul
+with them in their play. Little Beatrice&mdash;whose pet name is Daisy&mdash;and
+five-year-old Douglas&mdash;familiarly known as Chappie&mdash;already know that
+there are merry games to be enjoyed in which their father watches over
+both.</p>
+
+<p>We spent the evening after dinner in going through the house. The
+Palace, Ripon, is a semi-modern building, having been built some fifty
+years ago. The first stone was laid on Monday, 1st October, 1838, by
+Bishop Longley, and its correct entire cost was &pound;14,059 1s. 8d. Its
+rooms are large and handsome. The entrance-hall abounds in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> flowers and
+ferns, and contains at least two valuable canvases. One is a life-size
+picture by Grant of Archbishop Longley&mdash;the first Bishop&mdash;the other, by
+Watts, is that of Bishop Bickersteth, the second Bishop. Both of these
+are heirlooms of the See of Ripon. Just beyond is a second hall, where
+is the great oak staircase leading to the rooms above. This corner is
+rich in etchings and engravings. Paul Sandby, R.A., is well represented
+with his "Windsor"; works by Aumonier, Fred Slocombe, Charles Murray,
+David Law, Joseph Knight, Meissonier, and a striking etching of
+Napoleon, by Ruet, are noticeable. There are many quaint old views of
+"Ripon Minster," a Soudanese sword which one of the Bishop's sons
+brought from Egypt, whilst on a table is a very clever model of the
+Bishop's father's church at Liverpool. It was made by an invalid lady,
+and her ingenious fingers have handled the cardboard and gum most
+artistically.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image014-1.jpg" width="500" height="369" alt="THE INNER HALL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE INNER HALL.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Immediately opposite to the hall is the Holden Library. A picture of the
+Rev. J. Holden, who not only founded it, but left a small endowment to
+keep it in good order, hangs over the fireplace. Here the clergy of the
+diocese may come and consult the volumes. It is a fine room, and its
+outlook upon the rising ground of the garden is pleasantness itself.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image014-2.jpg" width="500" height="377" alt="THE ENTRANCE HALL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE ENTRANCE HALL.<br />
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We were just leaving the library when a soft pit-pat, pit-pat at our
+heels caused me to turn. The quiet, disturbing footfalls were made by a
+beautiful blue Angora cat, which was accompanied by George, the pug, who
+had made his presence known at the dinner table. Both Sultan, the cat,
+and George proved to be the most interesting of animals imaginable.
+Sultan's kittens are sold for charitable purposes and a little litter
+realized<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> &pound;10 for the Wakefield Bishopric Fund. George used to worry the
+sheep&mdash;he was the death of seven. He saw a St. Bernard causing trouble
+amongst the universal providers of lamb and mutton, and he could not
+resist the temptation to imitate his bigger brother. But he has long
+since been forgiven.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image015-1.jpg" width="500" height="345" alt="THE HOLDEN LIBRARY.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE HOLDEN LIBRARY.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Sultan and George," said the Bishop, "were the greatest of rivals when
+they first came here&mdash;now they are the best of friends. One bitter cold
+night George set up a terrible barking. I left my room, went
+downstairs&mdash;nothing apparently the matter. But George would not let me
+go. He barked and ran to the door. Then I heard a low, piteous cry. I
+opened the door, and in walked Sultan from the snow-covered step,
+perished with cold!"</p>
+
+<p>I gave George a pat on the head&mdash;I fancy he knew what we had been
+talking about. Away he cantered with Sultan, and we went into the
+drawing-room. There are two such apartments at the Palace, each leading
+into the other. Both look out upon the grounds, the trees in which now
+bear the golden-tinted reminders of autumn upon their branches, and the
+grass is plentifully strewn with the chestnuts blown down by the wind.
+The smaller of the two rooms abounds with dainty water-colours&mdash;light,
+bright and tiny paintings of sea-side views and flowers&mdash;numberless
+portraits, and photographic reminiscences of travel. The curiosity,
+however, of this apartment is a replica of the bust of Dante at Naples.
+The Bishop of Ripon is a very earnest and enthusiastic student of the
+great philosophical poet. Pictures of Dante, indeed, abound throughout
+the house, and in the study&mdash;to be visited later&mdash;are to be found many
+rare and valuable editions of him who conceived the never-to-be-excelled
+"Inferno," including Lord Vernon's, the Landino editions of 1481, and
+the Nidobeato of 1478.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image015-2.jpg" width="500" height="273" alt="&quot;GEORGE&quot; AND &quot;SULTAN.&quot;
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;GEORGE&quot; AND &quot;SULTAN.&quot;<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The large drawing-room affords a distant and picturesque view of the
+great square tower of the cathedral. The Palace is really on a level
+with it, so great is the rise in the ground. This apartment, like all
+the rooms indeed, is richly perfumed by flowers; exquisite china and
+silver nick-nacks are everywhere, and the Bishop evidently does not
+believe in the untold troubles associated with the presence of peacocks'
+feathers. There are several fans made from the "unlucky" stalks. One
+table seems given up to the congregating of tiny china animals&mdash;the most
+diminutive of pigs, kangaroos, rabbits, dogs, and ducks. The pictures
+are mostly marine subjects: two fine dockyard scenes are by Charles
+Dixon. Dixon&mdash;whose father,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> it will be remembered, painted "The Pride
+of Battery B"&mdash;was only sixteen when he painted them. A grand skin from
+a St. Bernard has its story to tell. The Bishop had two such dogs. His
+lordship changed his coachman and groom. Together with his family the
+Bishop left the Palace for a time, and the dog pined away. His skin now
+lies by the window. Alas! his more callous wife is still alive in the
+stable. Two of its offspring are in the safe keeping of a well-known
+clergyman, who, being in doubt as to what name he should bestow upon his
+newly-purchased pups, out of gratitude for the invigorating influence of
+the Harrogate waters determined to call them Sulphur and Magnesia!</p>
+
+<p>The dining-room need be of goodly size&mdash;frequently some thirty or forty
+people sit down at its tables. There are many fine oil-paintings here.
+Two bear the initials "A. S." "A. S." was Arthur Stocks. When the Bishop
+of Ripon was vicar of St. James's, Holloway, Arthur Stocks was a
+superintendent in the Sunday school. He used to travel backwards and
+forwards twice every Sabbath to the school, and when he died he left a
+wish that his quondam vicar should have one of his works. It has the
+best place in the room, though there are several valuable works of the
+Titian School, and a striking canvas, believed to be a Mazzoni, which
+was picked up in a general shop in a western town.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image016.jpg" width="500" height="379" alt="THE DRAWING-ROOM.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DRAWING-ROOM.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>A long corridor runs level with the dining-room outside. Its walls are
+lined with pictures and photographs, all reviving pleasant memories. A
+dual picture of Mr. and Mrs. H. M. Stanley is autographed by nearly all
+who signed the register on the occasion of their marriage&mdash;such names as
+W. E. Gladstone, Sir Frederick Leighton, and the Baroness
+Burdett-Coutts. It was the Bishop of Ripon who officiated at the
+ceremony&mdash;probably the first and only Bishop who has conducted a wedding
+service the whole of which was "received" into phonographs placed in the
+Abbey. There are excellent portraits of Gerald Wellesley, Dean of
+Windsor; whilst Archbishop Longley&mdash;who surely occupied more
+ecclesiastical Sees than any previous prelate&mdash;has signed himself as
+Ripon, Durham, York, and Canterbury to a striking portrait of himself.
+Henry Irving is not forgotten; but perhaps the most striking sketch is
+that of General Gordon&mdash;just by the side of a map of Khartoum. The
+inscription reads: "General C. E. Gordon, from an hour's sketch I made
+of him on 21st December, 1882.&mdash;Ed. Clifford." Mr. Clifford was the only
+English artist the Hero of Khartoum ever sat to. Above the frame is a
+<i>fac-simile</i> of his last message: "I am quite happy, thank God; and,
+like Lawrence, I have <i>tried</i> to do my duty."</p>
+
+<p>A photographic group of his lordship's working men's committee hangs
+near&mdash;their willing and kindly work is much valued. The Bishop is a
+purely practical prelate. This working men's committee has been formed
+with the aid of the clergy in Leeds. Leeds has some fifty parishes, and
+five working men are chosen out of each&mdash;giving a body of 250 strong.
+They help chiefly at special services such as those held on Good
+Fridays.</p>
+
+<p>As we were discussing the peculiar advantages of soliciting the services
+of the working man to meet his brother workman, the distant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> sound of
+the chapel organ was heard. Its echo came very sweetly through the
+corridor. It was the time of evening service. The dim glow from the
+lamps lent an air of solemnity to the little chapel, and when the
+service was over we remained behind for a few moments. I could just
+distinguish the altar steps of white, black and red&mdash;the Dante
+combination of colours&mdash;and the peaceful light from the moon streamed
+through the stained glass windows on to the oaken stalls, showing
+faintly the outlines of apostles and saints. One of these was put up in
+1852, in remembrance of the Rev. Charles Dodgson, examining chaplain to
+Bishop Longley and the father of the author of "Alice in Wonderland." It
+was here in the morning that I witnessed the gathering together of
+twenty or thirty clerics, who were licensed to new curacies and livings.
+We left the chapel, and ascending the great oaken staircase entered the
+study. This is essentially a room for work. The book-shelves contain
+some thousands of volumes&mdash;the only photo about the place is that of a
+family group. In one corner of the room stands a tin box, in which are
+three volumes of autographs, and the pages of these valuable volumes may
+be gone through, and the autographs of nearly all the Archbishops and
+Bishops of England for the last 200 years may be seen, including Juxon,
+Bishop of London, who attended Charles I. on the scaffold. A book
+containing photographs of the churches in the diocese reveals that
+Bishop Longley&mdash;the first Bishop of Ripon&mdash;was of a distinctly practical
+character. He started this ingenious index to the state of his churches.
+As soon as any alteration is made in a place of worship it is
+photographed. This shows the Bishop at a glance exactly how his churches
+are progressing from an architectural point of view.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 493px;">
+<img src="images/image017.jpg" width="493" height="362" alt="THE DRAWING-ROOM.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DRAWING-ROOM.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Bishop sat down, and it was whilst listening to much of the deepest
+interest regarding his work that I noticed the Prelate more closely. He
+is a trifle below the medium height, slightly whiskered, with iron-grey
+hair curled all about his head and brow. His face is intensely kind, and
+his every word and action suggestive of true and unaffected humility.
+Indeed, it is this very humility that has prevented his work becoming
+wider known. He is remarkably simple in his dress. Bishops, we know,
+have opportunity of seeing the sad, and indeed the seamy side of
+clerical life. If a man is a Bishop, he can still remain a brother. The
+putting on of the lawn lessens not his love for, and interest in, the
+young curate who only wears the linen surplice. He lives a quiet,
+homely, simple life, though always hospitable to others. How could he do
+otherwise, when he hears of cases like that of the poor cleric with a
+wife and eight children, who, after preaching his Sunday sermon, returns
+home to a meal of oatmeal gruel, and that meal would have been wanting
+had not a kindly farmer given it to his shepherd?</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop of Ripon has a diocese extending over a million acres and
+numbering a million people. Between seventy and a hundred changes take
+place every year. He travels much. He estimates he covers between 10,000
+and 12,000 miles every year.</p>
+
+<p>We spoke about preaching. On this subject the Bishop believes that each
+man must use the method best suited to himself. There have been
+effective preachers both of written and extempore sermons. The question
+of memory came up, and the Bishop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> said: "I learnt something of this
+from the biography of Chancellor Bird, of Lincoln, who said, 'The memory
+is very sensitive of distrust; if you trust it, it seldom fails you.' I
+have tested this more than once. On one occasion I was preaching at St.
+Paul's. When I got into the pulpit I thought I could not remember the
+number of the verse of my text. I knew the chapter, and opened my Bible
+there, but could not see it. People began to move about, but I hazarded
+a guess, and fortunately it was right."</p>
+
+<p>I learnt yet another example of this whilst in Ripon, though not from
+the Bishop. He was preaching at Bradford one Sunday morning two years
+ago. One of his many dramatic movements knocked his book from the pulpit
+cushion. It was just in the middle of the sermon. He never so much as
+glanced at the fallen volume, and my informant said he had never heard
+the Bishop more eloquent.</p>
+
+<p>"You ask me if I advocate the preaching of other men's sermons," said
+his lordship, repeating my question. "There is one thing about it. It
+behoves every man to advocate the simplest honesty. If any cleric
+exchange his sermon with another, let him say from the pulpit, 'I'm
+going to give you So-and-so's sermon to-day.'"</p>
+
+<p>We talked on, being joined by Mr. Harry Carpenter&mdash;the Bishop's eldest
+son&mdash;who frankly declared himself to be a happy, recently-called
+barrister, and just now lecturing for the University extension movement.
+We said "Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>When I reached my room I sat down by the fire and remembered that the
+Bishop was fond of his joke. He has a name&mdash;William Boyd Carpenter&mdash;the
+latter of which is capable of a very merry conversion. The story is told
+how, before being appointed to the See of Ripon, he once married a young
+couple with the assurance that he was not only a Carpenter but a Joiner.
+Only a few months ago he was about to lay the foundation stone of a new
+vicarage. The architect handed him the trowel, etc., inviting him to
+become "an operative mason for a few moments."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image018.jpg" width="500" height="362" alt="THE DINING-ROOM.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DINING-ROOM.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I would rather remain a working Carpenter," was the witty reply.</p>
+
+<p>I stirred my fire, and amongst the flickering embers I could almost see
+the faces of a happy pair at Christ Church, Lancaster Gate. The Bishop
+was officiating. The charming though nervous bride experienced some
+difficulty in taking off her glove at the right moment to receive the
+wedding ring.</p>
+
+<p>And a very soft whisper of kindly assurance came from the clergyman's
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be flurried," he said, <i>sotto voce</i>; "there's plenty of time, and
+they are bound to wait for us!"</p>
+
+<p>When I awoke in the morning I looked from my window. It was very early,
+and the sun was lighting up the tower of Ripon Cathedral as it rose
+above the tree tops.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> It was a fair scene. You could count a dozen
+rabbits hopping about on the grassy lawn leading down to the tennis
+court, and sitting nervously for a few moments, and glancing anxiously
+this way, that way, and every way in expectancy of a disturbing
+footstep. And as I looked out upon the beautiful scene of autumn-tinted
+trees and grassy mounds, with just a last rose of summer here and there,
+I could almost distinguish those little Arabs from the by-streets and
+slums of Leeds. They were running about in tatters, shouting themselves
+hoarse with delight, and turning unlimited catharine-wheels in their
+happy delirium. I could hear them distinctly clapping their hands; I
+could not hear the patter of their feet, though&mdash;the poor little fellows
+were bootless. Then they ceased their play for a moment. Somebody was
+beckoning to them to follow him. He quietly led them beneath the
+branches of the very biggest tree in the garden. He pointed his finger
+upwards. It was a very short sermon&mdash;a sermon from a text set up by
+Nature which the tiniest mite amongst this tattered congregation could
+understand.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image019.jpg" width="500" height="388" alt="THE CORRIDOR.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CORRIDOR.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Little children," he said, "I want you to grow up like this tree&mdash;with
+nothing between you and Heaven, nothing save the branches which you must
+shoot out&mdash;branches of help to others."</p>
+
+<p>And the children went to play again.</p>
+
+<p>Then I spied from my window a fine piece of level ground. The railway
+men were playing cricket there. How they seemed to enjoy the huge
+plum-puddings after throwing down their bats and leaving the wickets!
+The toothsome puddings had been contributed by the ladies of the city,
+and made hot and steaming in the great copper of the Palace kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, the Bishop and I went for a long walk around the
+grounds&mdash;there are sixty or seventy acres of land here, and a small home
+farm. The Palace&mdash;which I now saw properly for the first time&mdash;is built
+of stone, the monotony of which is relieved by many a climbing
+nasturtium and cluster of ivy leaves. The chapel stands at right angles
+to the house. It was added later, and is the gift of the late Archbishop
+Vernon Harcourt to the See of Ripon.</p>
+
+<p>There is rather a curious thing about some of the decorative work on the
+exterior of the Palace. An episcopal diary started by Bishop Longley,
+and preserved at the Palace, mentions that amongst many carved "heads"
+on the chapel was that of a Bishop. A strong gust of wind blew it down:
+all the others, which were decidedly unclerical, remained! But the most
+amusing entry in this book refers to two figures of angels at the
+south-east and south-west corners. Seeing that the Queen and Prince
+Consort had only been married a few months when the Palace was built,
+instructions were given to imitate in the carving of the angels the
+features of Her Majesty and her Consort. But the stone-mason, being
+possessed of a certain prosaic mind, was not content with the attempt to
+give the features of the Prince, but represented him as an angel arrayed
+in a field-marshal's uniform and wearing the ribbon of the Garter! Of
+course it was altered at once.</p>
+
+<p>We had walked on and stood still for a moment at the end of a long
+avenue carpeted with fallen leaves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now you can see Norton Conyers! It is about four miles from here," said
+the Bishop. "Charlotte Bront&euml; once had a holiday engagement as governess
+there, and a room is still shown where it is said the mad woman was
+confined whose story the gifted authoress told in the pages of 'Jane
+Eyre.'"</p>
+
+<p>Then as we wended our way across to the farm, down paths lined with
+hedgerows, and through many wicket gates, we paused at times as the
+Bishop looked back upon his quiet though useful life.</p>
+
+<p>The Right Rev. William Boyd Carpenter was born at Liverpool on March
+26th, 1841. His father was vicar of St. Michael's there for twenty-seven
+years. His first schooling was obtained under Dr. Dawson Turner, at the
+Royal Institution School, and amongst famous boys of the Royal
+Institution were Bishop Lightfoot, Canon Duckworth, Professor Warr, and
+Mr. Crosse.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Dawson Turner," said the Bishop, "was a sort of cosmopolitan&mdash;he
+tried to teach a little of everything. He was a good-hearted man. He
+loved to give threepenny-pieces to the boys who pleased him. I well
+remember one day during prayers&mdash;we were all assembled in the big
+hall&mdash;and the head master was reading them. Suddenly the door opened and
+a big boy, very nervous and conscience-stricken, who thought he ought to
+be at prayers, crept quietly in. Dr. Turner looked up and said, in the
+same tone as he was reading, 'Go out&mdash;go out! Somebody put that idiot
+out!' Then he went on with his reading exactly in the same voice.</p>
+
+<p>"The man I learned most from was Albert Glyn, our mathematical
+master&mdash;one of the best teachers that ever breathed. He would never let
+you pass a thing unless you thoroughly understood it. It was he who made
+mathematics an interesting and fascinating study to me."</p>
+
+<p>We spoke of the time when the Crimean war broke out, when the Bishop was
+full of the boyish ardour of thirteen years of age. His schoolmaster
+would not give him a holiday to see the troops going off, but his father
+did. It was a sight to be remembered when the troops embarked during the
+war. The news was watched for eagerly, and talked over nightly. The
+Bishop's family, like so many others, had relatives in the war. Captain
+John Boyd, the Bishop's uncle, who was in command of the <i>Royal George</i>,
+planted the only shot in Cronstadt. Later he lost his life in attempting
+to rescue the crew of a small brig off Kingstown harbour. His monument
+is in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.</p>
+
+<p>At this point of our conversation the Bishop alluded to a well-known
+story and epigram.</p>
+
+<p>The story on which the epigram is founded is of two Irishmen, one of
+whom challenged the other to a duel. But when the eventful hour arrived
+one sat down and wrote that, were it only his honour at stake he would
+meet his opponent, but his wife depended on him, so he begged to
+decline. The other individual sent a message to say that if honour were
+the only consideration he would come, but he had a daughter and
+therefore prayed to be excused. So the epigram read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Two brave sons of Erin, intent upon slaughter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Improved on the Hebrew's command:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One honoured his wife and the other his daughter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That their days might be long in the land.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"This clever epigram," said the Bishop, "is popularly said to have been
+written by Flood, but I have always understood that it was written by my
+mother's mother."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 266px;">
+<img src="images/image020.jpg" width="266" height="350" alt="GENERAL GORDON.
+
+From a Drawing by E. Clifford." title="" />
+<span class="caption">GENERAL GORDON.<br />
+
+From a Drawing by E. Clifford.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>That the Bishop's pen is occasionally employed in throwing off these
+epigrams is shown by the following. It will be remembered that at the
+time of the great storm at Samoa, Captain Kane, with a pluck and
+judgment which evoked the applause of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> American and German crews in
+the harbour, took his vessel out to sea and so saved her. When questions
+were asked in Parliament as to what honour would be conferred on Captain
+Kane in recognition of his services, the First Lord of the Admiralty
+replied "that Kane had only done his duty, and if he had lost his ship
+he would have been court-martialled." So the Bishop wrote:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What shall be done for Kane?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who brought his vessel safe through wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With skilful hand and heart as brave:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What shall be done for Kane?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What shall he have? "We solve the knot,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cries the First Lord, impartial;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If Kane had failed, he would have got<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our pickle rod&mdash;court-martial."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then talk no more of praise or gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our English principle is plain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When storm winds rise to hurricane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Kane escape he 'scapes the cane!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image021-1.jpg" width="500" height="379" alt="THE PRIVATE CHAPEL.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE PRIVATE CHAPEL.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Here is another example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>With regard to the recent conference at Grindelwald, which the Bishop
+had hoped to attend, it would not, it appears, have been his first
+visit, for at the request of the Bishop of London he acted as his deputy
+in opening the new English church destroyed in the recent fire. This
+church was built by the brothers Boss, who with their family, to the
+number of seven, keep the adjacent hotel, called "The Bear." The
+following lines were written by the Bishop in their visitors' book:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A sign upon the earth, behold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Competes with one in heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Bear above, the "Bear" below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The stars that form them, seven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when these signs compar&eacute;d are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Judge then the heavenly losses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all declare the earthly stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Most surely are the Bosses!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image021-2.jpg" width="500" height="361" alt="THE STUDY.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE STUDY.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He won an open scholarship at St. Catharine's College, Cambridge, and
+remained there until he took his degree in 1864. The late
+Attorney-General was the representative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> of Cambridge in sports in those
+days. The late Mr. Parnell was at Cambridge at the same time, and Lord
+Carrington and Mr. F. C. Burnand were among the most important members
+of the Cambridge A.D.C., as it was called. The acting in those days was
+of a very high order. The Bishop was cox. of his college boat; not a
+very enviable position&mdash;"you've got all the responsibility and none of
+the kudos." A cox. is like a bishop: he can only guide, he cannot give
+strength.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image022-1.jpg" width="500" height="374" alt="THE CHOIR, RIPON CATHEDRAL.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CHOIR, RIPON CATHEDRAL.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>His lordship referred to the great improvement in University life to-day
+compared with thirty years ago. Much less wine is consumed now, and a
+man can go through the 'Varsity as a teetotaler without any
+inconvenience. At college the young man began a practical training for
+the ministry&mdash;giving lectures attending district meetings, and teaching
+in the Sunday school.</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop's first curacy was at Maidstone, and, strangely enough, he
+was ordained by Bishop Longley. My visit to the Palace was in the full
+tide of the cholera scare, and the Bishop referred to his experiences of
+it at Maidstone.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 290px;">
+<img src="images/image022-2.jpg" width="290" height="450" alt="RIPON CATHEDRAL.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">RIPON CATHEDRAL.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I was working there," he said, "when the cholera broke out in 1866. My
+vicar was away. I assisted a little, more especially at a rookery called
+Pad's Hole, then a den of thieves&mdash;now a low-lying little spot. I well
+remember the first case I visited. It was a poor fellow who was a very
+regular attendant at church. I went in at half-past ten to see him. I
+went again at half-past one. As I walked up the hill a woman met me and
+cried, 'He's gone!' He had been carried off in four hours. The truth is
+the people were taken by surprise, and few precautions were taken&mdash;there
+was no organized system of nurses then. The women who were sent to
+attend the cholera-stricken people knew nothing about nursing. They
+drank the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> brandy intended for the relief of the sufferers. I went into
+one house to see a woman. The nurse was intoxicated. Shortly after the
+poor woman died. At the graveside stood the nurse, still suffering from
+the effects of drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Whenever I walk along here I feel indebted to Longley for one great
+thing," continued the Bishop. "You see these trees?" pointing to a
+magnificent belt of trees immediately in front of us. "They keep away
+the cutting Yorkshire winds. Longley planted these." Some idea of the
+power of the winds may be gathered from a note in Bishop Longley's diary
+already referred to. It was on the nights of the 6th and 7th of January,
+1839, and all the north of England was affected by the storm. The Earl
+of Lonsdale lost 70,000 trees in his young plantation, and the
+magnificent avenue at Castle Howard was almost destroyed. The whole of
+the kitchen garden wall was blown down at the Palace. Bishop Longley
+very wisely put up that grand screen of trees.</p>
+
+<p>His lordship entertains grateful recollections of his days at Maidstone
+under his vicar, the Rev. David Dale Stewart. He remained there two
+years, afterwards holding curacies at Clapham, and Lee in Kent. From Lee
+he went to St. James's, Holloway, to assist the Rev. W. B. Mackenzie.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Mackenzie," said the Bishop, "was a remarkable man; his power in
+church and pulpit was singularly great. He only had one curacy and one
+incumbency. I succeeded him as vicar, remaining there from 1870 to 1880.
+There was no choir there&mdash;the congregation was the choir. Here, in
+Yorkshire, choirs are invaluable. The people enjoy it&mdash;they will have a
+choir."</p>
+
+<p>I asked the Bishop if he thought well of the introduction of orchestras
+into our churches. His reply was thoroughly frank and real.</p>
+
+<p>"In the old days," he said, "men used to play in the churches, and never
+expected to be paid. The condition of life since then has very much
+changed. If every man will bring his instrument to church as a personal
+act of homage to the glory of his Maker, by all means let us have it. We
+are in danger of forgetting that if our acts are not the personal homage
+of our hearts, such are not acceptable service. I am a little afraid
+that we are just now passing through such days of activity as will
+possibly cause us to forget the reality of things. We want, as Lord
+Mount-Temple said, the Deep Church as well as the High and Low. Yes, let
+us have orchestras in churches if you will, but I don't want the man to
+go into a place of worship with his fiddle-case under his arm and the
+idea in his mind that he is going to take part in a mere performance!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image023.jpg" width="500" height="289" alt="RIPON CATHEDRAL.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">RIPON CATHEDRAL.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>At Holloway he founded many excellent institutions&mdash;classes for French,
+German, shorthand, etc. The young men had their House of Commons, with
+their vicar as Speaker. Many of the "M.P.'s" who belonged to the
+Highbury Parliament have since turned out admirable speakers and useful
+citizens.</p>
+
+<p>After leaving St. James's, the Bishop became vicar of Christ Church,
+Lancaster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> Gate. He was Select Preacher at Cambridge in 1875 and 1877;
+Hulsean Lecturer at Cambridge, 1878; Honorary Chaplain to the Queen,
+1878; Select Preacher at Oxford in 1882, when he was also appointed to a
+vacant Canonry at Windsor; Bampton Lecturer, 1887, and in 1889 he
+received an honorary D.C.L. from the University of Oxford.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image024.jpg" width="500" height="296" alt="THE PALACE, RIPON.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE PALACE, RIPON.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>On the death of the late Dr. Bickersteth, in 1884, he was consecrated
+Bishop of Ripon. His duties at the House of Lords consist of a fortnight
+or three weeks in each year, for the purpose of reading prayers. This
+duty, which once devolved entirely upon the junior Bishop, is now
+undertaken in turns, with the exception of the seniors in rank.</p>
+
+<p>It was market-day when we took our way through the streets and great
+square which forms the market-place of the more than a thousand-year-old
+city. It still keeps up the old-fashioned custom of the blowing of a
+horn at morning and night near the Mayor's house.</p>
+
+<p>On the north side of the Cathedral stands the Deanery. The Dean of
+Ripon, who is eighty-four, was cox. in the Oxford crew of the first
+'Varsity race, and he acted as page at the coronation of William IV. His
+picturesque and venerable figure is one of the best known in Ripon. Dean
+Fremantle has made Ripon his home in the truest sense, ever since his
+appointment to the Deanery, now sixteen years ago. He has thrown himself
+with vigour and devotion into every good work in the city and
+neighbourhood. In the Millenary year he presented a magnificent
+silver-mounted horn to the Mayor and Corporation, as guardians of the
+city. More recently he presented a pleasant bathing shed and offices to
+the neighbourhood. He believes in the healthy exercise of swimming and
+boating and cricket. He still preaches with energy and impressiveness,
+and large congregations gather at the nave services in the Cathedral,
+where his voice is heard throughout the building. It is said that his
+portrait is to be hung up among the city worthies in the Town Hall. His
+sterling goodness, his generosity, his unfailing courtesy and kindness
+have endeared him to everyone; and all would readily allow that he is
+the best-loved citizen of the comely little Yorkshire town.</p>
+
+<p>The near view of Ripon Cathedral is not particularly striking; its
+beauty is more impressive at a distance. Inside, however, though at
+first appearance somewhat bare-looking, there is much that is beautiful
+in architectural design. One is struck with its really magnificent width
+particularly, and the curious and sudden breaking up of the Norman arch,
+near the nave, by a Gothic pillar. The carving, however, of the stalls
+is very fine, and in many instances of great rarity. Beneath the stalls
+are many quaint specimens of the carver's handiwork. Beneath the
+Bishop's throne are the two spies of Joshua carrying the grapes, and a
+couple of giants are represented on either side, one all head and no
+body, the other all body with his head in the middle. Another stall
+shows Jonah being thrown overboard, with a whale waiting with open mouth
+to receive him, and near at hand is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> carving of Pontius Pilate
+wheeling away Judas in a wheelbarrow with his bag of silver.</p>
+
+<p>Yet amongst all that is interesting in and about the cathedral nothing
+is more so than the Saxon Chapel under the crypt. It is the earliest
+known place of worship in the kingdom, its architecture being about the
+seventh century. We light our candles and follow the verger down the
+stone steps. The descent is a trifle treacherous. There are little
+niches in the wall where candles are placed. Then we enter the chapel.
+It is perfectly dark, and smells very earthy. A hole in one side of the
+wall is pointed out. Tradition says that in the old days, when people
+had anything suspicious against them, they were brought to this spot. If
+they succeeded in crawling through to the other side they were
+blameless; if they could not, they were unquestionably guilty. It is
+also said that the young damsel who creeps through is sure to get
+married within the year. Be this as it may, I was assured that very
+recently a Yorkshire farmer brought his three daughters and sought
+permission for them to crawl through the lucky hole. Another daughter
+who had been through succeeded in getting married, and the father of the
+remaining trio was anxious for them to see whether a journey through the
+wall might not help him to more readily dispose of his daughters!</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Harry How.</span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;">
+<img src="images/image025.jpg" width="301" height="400" alt="THE DEAN OF RIPON.
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DEAN OF RIPON.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Elliott &amp; Fry.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="A_Little_SurpriseA" id="A_Little_SurpriseA"></a><i>A Little Surprise</i>.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Adapted from the French of Abraham Dreyfus</span></h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">By Constance Beerbohm.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image026.jpg" width="400" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Characters:</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sir William Beauchamp, Bart.</span> (43).<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Lady Florence Beauchamp</span> (39).<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Kate Dugdale</span> (18).<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Mr. James Dugdale</span> (23).<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Porter</span>, <i>the Lady's-maid</i> (30).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <i>A country drawing-room. A French window opening on to a flower
+garden at the back of the stage. Doors right and left. A sofa,
+arm-chairs, smaller chairs, etc.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>At the rise of the curtain, <span class="smcap">Jem</span> and <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> are discovered sitting with
+their backs to one another, evidently sulking. <span class="smcap">Jem</span> looks round every now
+and then, trying to catch his wife's eye, and she studiously avoids his
+glance. At length their eyes meet.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>rises</i>): No! I tell you I can't stand it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: And why not? I always went out with the guns at home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: "At home" and your husband's house are two very different places.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: So I find!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: And I have told you over and over again I detest to see any
+woman&mdash;more especially a girl of eighteen, like yourself&mdash;tramping over
+the moors in gaiters, and a skirt by a long way too short!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Perhaps, with your old-maidish ideas, you would like to see me
+taking my walks abroad with a train as long as my Court frock!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Perversity!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: I only know that papa, mamma, and grandmamma always said&mdash;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Ah! But your grandmother&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: How dare you speak in that way of dear grandmamma?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I never said a word against her&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: But you were going to!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Nothing of the sort.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>repeats</i>): I only know that papa, mamma, and grandmamma always
+said&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Oh, Heavens! (<i>He escapes.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Was ever anyone so wretched as I? Only three months married, and
+to find my husband an obstinate, vindictive, strait-laced country
+bumpkin! Well, not a bumpkin perhaps, after all, but almost as bad as
+that! Why, oh! why did I leave my happy home, where I could do what I
+liked from morning till night, and no one was ever disagreeable to me?
+And yet during my engagement what a lovely time I had! Jem seemed so
+kind and gentle, and promised me he would never say a cross word to me!
+He declared our married life should be one long sunshiny summer day;
+whilst I promised to be his little ministering angel! I reminded him of
+that yesterday. And what did he say? That he had never thought a little
+ministering angel could be such a little brute! I can hardly believe he
+is the same man I used to love so dearly! (<i>Exit in tears.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>(<i>After a moment, <span class="smcap">Porter</span>, the lady's-maid, enters, ushering in <span class="smcap">Lady
+Florence Beauchamp</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Your mistress is not here, after all, Porter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Porter</span>: No, milady! Yet I heard her voice only a few moments ago.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Well then, Porter, you must go and tell her a lady wishes to
+speak with her in the boudoir, and be sure not to say who the "lady" is,
+however much she may ask. I wish this visit to be a little surprise to
+her. Nor must you mention that Sir William is here.</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, with traces of tears on her face.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Kitty, darling, Kitty!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Aunty! Can it be you? This is delightful! (<i>They embrace.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I'm glad you call it delightful! I came here as a little
+surprise to you; but I daresay you will think me a great bore for taking
+you by storm, and interrupting your <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with Jem.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Oh! far from it! I am only too, too happy you've come!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Is that the real truth?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Indeed, it is!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I thought I should find you as blooming as a rose in June; but
+you are not quite so flourishing as I expected. Those pretty eyes look
+as if&mdash;as if&mdash;well, as if you had a cold in the head!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: They look as if I had been crying, you mean! And so I have.
+(<i>Bursts into tears afresh, and throws herself into <span class="smcap">Lady Flo's</span> arms.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Sir William</span> and <span class="smcap">Jem</span>, the former standing amazed. <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, leaving
+<span class="smcap">Lady Flo's</span> arms, throws herself into those of <span class="smcap">Sir William</span>, with renewed
+sobs. <span class="smcap">Sir William</span> turns in surprise to <span class="smcap">Jem</span>. <span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> looks down in
+embarrassment.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Oh! yes, Kitty! This is all very well. Why not tell them I'm a
+monster at once?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: And so you are!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>aside</i>): Have you no sense of decency?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>aside</i>): This is truly shocking.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> (<i>aside</i>): Good Heavens!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Is it my fault that my uncle and aunt are witnesses of your
+ill-temper?</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Porter</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Porter</span>: Your ladyship's trunks have just arrived from the station.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>hesitating</i>): Let them be taken back again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: We had intended staying but an hour or two.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Sir W.</span></i>): But I beg you to stay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span></i>): Never were you so much needed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Porter</span></i>): Let her ladyship's trunks be taken to the Blue Rooms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Not to the Blue Rooms. They are quite damp. (<i>To <span class="smcap">Jem</span></i>) I may
+speak a word in my own house, I suppose? (<i>To <span class="smcap">Porter</span></i>) Let the trunks be
+taken to the Turret Room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: The chimneys smoke there.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Excuse me. They do not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Excuse <i>me</i>. They do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: They smoked once upon a time, perhaps, but may not now.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Porter</span>: Where may I say the luggage is to be carried?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Take your orders from your mistress.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: No! From your master!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Kitty</span></i>): Spare me at least before the lady's-maid!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Jem</span></i>): Oh! nobody knows better how you behave than Porter.
+Our quarrels are no secret from <i>her</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: That must be your fault. How can she know of them but from you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: I tell her nothing. But your voice would reach to the ends of the
+earth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: As for yours&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Grandmamma always said my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> voice was the most gentle she had ever
+heard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: But, then, your grandmother&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span></i>): I really think we had better leave, after all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>affectionately</i>): No! dearest Will! I really think we had
+better stay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: For <i>my</i> part&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I tell you we <i>must</i> stay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Very well, Flo, as you wish. You always know best. (<i>They
+exchange smiles.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Jem</span></i>): Kitty will take me to my room. So I leave my better
+half in your good company. (<i>Exit with <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I can't help regretting I came here, old fellow. It was your
+aunt's idea. I made objections. But she insisted that you'd both be glad
+enough to have a little interruption in your honeymoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: She never said a truer word.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Then the honeymoon is not so great a success, after all?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: To tell the truth, it's all a ghastly failure!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Poor boy! Believe me, I'm awfully sorry for you. (<i>Puts his hand
+on <span class="smcap">Jem's</span> shoulder.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I'm awfully glad you're sorry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I pity you from my heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Thanks very much.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: For my part, if I led a cat-and-dog life with your aunt, I
+should wish to blow my brains out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: So that's the advice you give me! (<i>Moves towards door.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Oh! no! All I want is five minutes' chat with you. Anything that
+affects Flo's niece naturally affects me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Naturally. (<i>Laughs.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Now come! Tell me! How did your misunderstandings begin?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I really couldn't say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: And yet quarrels always have a beginning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Of course, when women are so confoundedly selfish.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Kitty is selfish?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I don't want to make any complaints about her. Yet I must admit
+that she takes absolutely no interest in anything which interests me.
+You know my hobby&mdash;fishing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: And Kitty doesn't care for fishing?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Not she! Though, finding myself here, surrounded with trout
+streams, you may imagine how I was naturally anxious to spend my days.
+Kitty said fishing was a bore, and after having come out with me once or
+twice, she sternly refused to do so any more. And why? Simply because
+she wanted to tramp about with the shooters from Danby.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: All this is but a trifling dissimilarity of taste, and
+insufficient to cause a real estrangement.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: A trifling dissimilarity! Why, our tastes differ in every essential
+point! Kitty has got it into her head that a woman should take an
+interest in things "outside herself." A friend of her mother's, who used
+to conduct her to the British Museum, taught her to believe in
+Culture&mdash;with a capital "C." To hear her talk of Pompeiian marbles,
+Flaxman's designs, and all that sort of thing&mdash;why, it's sickening!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: It strikes me you are unreasonable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Oh, no! I'm not! A woman who takes an interest in things outside
+herself becomes a nuisance.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 354px;">
+<img src="images/image028.jpg" width="354" height="450" alt="SIR W.: &quot;IT STRIKES ME YOU ARE UNREASONABLE.&quot;
+
+JEM: &quot;OH, NO! I&#39;M NOT!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SIR W.: &quot;IT STRIKES ME YOU ARE UNREASONABLE.&quot;<br /><br />
+
+JEM: &quot;OH, NO! I&#39;M NOT!&quot;</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: And yet I believe that with a little tact, a little gentleness,
+you would be able to manage Kitty, just as I have managed your aunt all
+these long years. There is no doubting the dear girl's affection for
+you. Remember her joy when her mother's scruples as to the length of
+your engagement were overcome.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: That's true enough. Kitty was very fond of me three months ago. But
+it isn't only fondness I require of a wife. She must be bored when I'm
+bored, and keen when I'm keen, and that sort of thing, you know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Yes! I see. In fact, lose her identity, as your dear good aunt
+has lost hers!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>aside</i>): Or, rather, as you have lost yours!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Well, I'll try and view things in your light, my good fellow. At
+the same time, you must have great patience&mdash;very great patience, Jem,
+and then all may come right in the end. It <i>is</i> true I never needed
+patience with your aunt. But had there been the necessity, I should have
+been equal to the demand. Now, I daresay your little quarrels have been
+but short lived; and that after having caused Kitty any vexation, you
+have always been ready to come forward with kind words to make up your
+differences?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Yes, ready! But not <i>too</i> ready, as I feared too much indulgence
+might not be advisable. Now, one morning, after having been out early, I
+determined to give up fishing for the rest of the day to please Kitty.
+On my way home&mdash;remember, it was before eight o'clock&mdash;I met her
+betaking herself to what she calls "matins." Now, I like a girl to be
+good and strict, and all that sort of thing. But imagine going to church
+at eight o'clock on a Monday morning!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: A slight error in judgment; you might easily forgive the dear
+child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I didn't find it easy. I said so. And Kitty refused her breakfast
+in consequence&mdash;only to aggravate me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: No! No! Perhaps she fasted only to soften your heart!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Far from it. In fact, to sum up the whole matter, we have no common
+sympathies. Kitty has not even any ambition, for instance, as to my
+future. You know I wish to stand for Portborough one day?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: <i>You!!</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Why not?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Oh, no! Of course! Why not, as you say?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Yet if I begin to discuss it all with her, <i>she</i> begins to yawn;
+and her yawning drives me nearly mad, when I am talking on a matter of
+vital interest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Dear! Dear! I begin to find all this more serious than I
+thought. For it does seem to me as if you differed on most subjects.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>moodily</i>): So we do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Ah! I am afraid it may be pretty serious! And after listening to
+all your story I can't help feeling, my dear fellow, that there is not
+the chance of things bettering themselves, as I had hoped in the first
+instance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: You feel that?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I do! I do! This divergence of taste and sympathies is no
+laughing matter. It rather alarms me when I think that the abyss between
+you and your wife as time goes on may only widen. (<i>He indicates an
+imaginary abyss, which <span class="smcap">Jem</span> stares at dubiously.</i>) Yes! widen&mdash;and widen!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>after a moment's pause of half surprise, half pain</i>): What you say
+is not consoling.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: At first I thought differently; but now I hesitate to mislead
+you, and I admit my heart sinks when I think of your future, after
+hearing all you have to say. Indeed, I hope I may be mistaken. I have,
+as you know, but little experience in these matters. Your aunt and I
+have lived in undisturbed harmony these fifteen years. Never has an
+angry word been heard within our walls.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Whilst Kitty and I squabbled as soon as we had left the rice and
+slippers behind us! And since then scarcely an hour has passed without
+some sort of difference. I declare, when I think over it, that it would
+be best for us to plunge into the ice at once. A separation is the only
+hope for us. But, hush! I think I hear Aunt Flo's and Kitty's footsteps!
+(<i>Lowers his voice, speaking rapidly</i>) For Heaven's sake, don't breathe
+a word of what I have said! Fool that I've been! Worse than a
+fool&mdash;disloyal! Not a word to my aunt!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Oh! I promise you! (<i>Mysteriously into Jem's ear</i>) Women are so
+indiscreet. Now, I wouldn't tell your aunt for the wide world!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> and <span class="smcap">Kitty,</span> who have overheard the last words.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>icily</i>): I beg pardon! We interrupt!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Not at all! We were merely discussing the relations of man and
+wife! Uncle Will has been telling me that a wife&mdash;you, under the
+circumstances&mdash;has everything in her own hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image030.jpg" width="500" height="472" alt="SIR W.: &quot;WOMEN ARE SO INDISCREET.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SIR W.: &quot;WOMEN ARE SO INDISCREET.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>flattered</i>): Indeed!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Indeed! I must say that no one could appreciate Aunt Flo's
+virtues more than I, although at the same time I am certain she would
+very soon have lost her sweet temper if her husband had been
+aggravating, ignorant, domineering!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Why not call me a savage at once?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: A savage! Yes! A savage!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh! Kitty! Kitty! Is this the way to make friends?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Come, Uncle Will! Let us go into the smoking-room! I shall choke
+here! (<i>Exit.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: There's but little hope for them! Little hope! Little hope!
+(<i>Exit, shaking his head.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Now, perhaps, you believe that I have something to put up with?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>soothingly</i>): And yet there's no doubt Jem is extremely fond
+of you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: He has a strange way of showing it! The other morning, after we
+had had one of our little scenes, I went down to the stream to find him
+when he was fishing. I would even have been willing to try and bait
+(<i>shudders</i>) his hook. But as I was starting off I met him coming up the
+garden, and he stared at me like an avenging god (or demon, I should
+say), and asked if I wasn't on my way to matins? Naturally, I did not
+contradict him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Dearest! You distress me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: There's another thing I can't endure! You know I took the pledge,
+so as to be a good example to the village people here. Well! Jem is
+furious every time I refuse wine at luncheon or dinner. He declares that
+I <i>pose</i>! Can you imagine such nonsense?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Well, dear! I confess I sympathize with Jem. I don't think any
+really nice women ever take the pledge&mdash;do they? I only ask, you know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Why, yes! Of course they do, aunty&mdash;when they want to be good
+examples. Jem cannot understand this; and, far from taking the pledge
+himself, he revolts me day after day by drinking&mdash;(<i>whispers
+mysteriously</i>)&mdash;Bass's pale ale!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Ah! That's bad! But, oh! my dear, if you only knew the proper
+way to manage a husband!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: How could I? For Jem is as unmanageable as the Great Mogul.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I see you don't realize how the most violent men are those
+most easy to subdue. Now, there's your uncle&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: I always thought him as mild as Moses!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: So he is <i>now</i>! But there <i>was</i> a time&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Oh! Do tell me all about it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Well. There <i>was</i> a time when your uncle imagined he might be
+allowed to complain if dinner were late. One day he actually dared to
+ask, in a voice of thunder, "Is dinner ready?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Jem dares that every day.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: It happened to be the cook's fault.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Ah! That would make no difference to Jem.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>impatient</i>): I wish, darling, you would allow me to speak!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Oh! I beg pardon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>continuing, blandly</i>): Not at all! Now, I replied: "The
+salmon has just fallen into the fire, and cook has had to send for
+another!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: That was true?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Not in the least! I had ordered red mullet. And Will ate his
+fish without noticing the difference.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Jem would not have made that mistake.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh, yes, he would, if you had just glanced at him in the right
+manner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>eagerly</i>): Show me how to do it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>drily</i>): It requires the inspiration of the moment. Ah! could
+you but see me with Will!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: It is certain you are very happy together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: So we are; owing to my always using sweetness, firmness, and
+indifference just at the right moment. But all this, I confess, requires
+intelligence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Had I but the intelligence! It must be splendid to be able to
+avert a coming storm in this way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: There never has been the question of a storm between Will and
+me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Happy, happy people!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: And you, my very dear children, must become happy, happy
+people too! William would feel your sorrow as deeply as I. We must do
+all in our power to restore peace and comfort between you! I shall try
+my very utmost to show you your little failings&mdash;here and there&mdash;you
+know. And as for Will! Why, he'll talk Jem over in no time! Before a
+week is out we shall see you walking arm-in-arm to matins&mdash;the happiest
+couple in all Yorkshire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Impossible!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Nay! We can but try. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sir William</span>.) Ah! Here comes
+your uncle. Now, run away, dear, and leave us alone for a discreet
+little talk. Who knows but what we may hit upon a plan to help you!
+(<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>.)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Will, dearest! We must talk very seriously over our niece and
+nephew together.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> (<i>aside</i>): It is high time!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: But, first of all, by the way, I want to know what it was you
+were saying to Jem, when I came into the room a few minutes ago.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> (<i>consciously</i>): To Jem? Why, I was saying nothing to Jem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh, yes, you were! Now try to remember. Kitty and I heard you
+talking in quite an excited manner as we came downstairs. Then as we
+came nearer the door you lowered your voice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Indeed, <i>no</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Yes, yes, you did, dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: No, no, I didn't, dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Don't tell fibs, darling.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: You want to know too much, my dear, good Flo.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Too much? Oh, no! That would be impossible! However, I know
+you will tell me the whole truth by-and-by.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: First let me know what you have to say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Well, I'm in the deepest distress about the two young people.
+They seem to be at terrible loggerheads. Now, perhaps Jem confided the
+secret of his unhappy married life to you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: He never said a word about it! (<i>Bites his lip.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Nevertheless, I assure you they lead a cat-and-dog existence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Oh, dear, dear! Is that so?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Why, of course! You saw them quarrelling yourself. But still I
+have hopes we may be able to arrange matters a little better for them.
+Who knows but what we may see them re-united before we leave this house?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: We will do our best to help them, poor young things!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Yes! Poor young things!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: And I've no doubt we shall succeed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: At the same time, it seems to me as if the abyss between them
+<i>may</i> widen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: That may be so. The abyss <i>may</i> widen! (<i>Indicates an imaginary
+abyss, at which <span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> shakes her head</i>).</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: If a man and woman aren't made for one another&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Like you and me. I pointed that out to Jem.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I'm afraid it didn't affect him as it ought. (<i>With a
+sentimental sigh</i>) The only consolation we can derive from the
+misfortune of our nephew and niece is that we are happier than they!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Clever little woman! (<i>Kisses her.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Dear old Will! (<i>Kisses him. Then with a sudden change of
+tone</i>) But now I <i>must</i> hear what it was Jem was saying to you when I
+came into the room! You answered that "of course you wouldn't tell his
+aunt for the wide world." That must have been a <i>fa&ccedil;on de parler</i>!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image032.jpg" width="400" height="349" alt="SIR W.: &quot;THE ABYSS MAY WIDEN!&quot; (INDICATES AN IMAGINARY
+ABYSS.)" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SIR W.: &quot;THE ABYSS MAY WIDEN!&quot; (INDICATES AN IMAGINARY
+ABYSS.)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Of course! of course! And you shall know all about it as soon as
+I have asked Jem's leave. Meanwhile we must attend to the fates of these
+unhappy young people. We had better first try to show them their
+grievous fault as gently as possible, and if gentleness does not
+answer&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh, yes! Gentleness is all very well! But I tell you quite
+candidly, Will, that before we talk of gentleness I must insist on
+knowing what it is you told Jem that you would not let me hear.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: The fact is, my dear&mdash;&mdash;(<i>Coughs.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Tell me what the fact is, and at once, my dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: The facts are, dear child&mdash;&mdash;(<i>Coughs again.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>irritated</i>): Don't cough!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>. (<i>continues coughing</i>): Well! it's a long story.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Haven't you a lozenge?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Never mind the lozenge! The story, I say, is a long one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Long or short, I must hear it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I'll tell it to you, later on.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I begin to suspect you can't tell me all about it,
+simply&mdash;because you <i>can't</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Oh! I can! I could!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh, no, you can't. You couldn't, and you ought to be ashamed
+of yourself!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: You are going just a little bit too far, Florence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Oh, no; it was <i>you</i> who went too far. Why, I knew it by the
+look on your face the instant I came into the room!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>. (<i>aside</i>): She is going very much too far. (<i>Aloud</i>) Nonsense!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I beg pardon?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I repeat "Nonsense." And <i>ridiculous nonsense</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Then, how dare you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: You forget yourself strangely.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Do not attempt to adopt your nephew's manner to his wife
+towards me!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: It is <i>you</i>, my love, who are unfortunate in your choice of a
+manner this morning; and although pettishness in a young girl like Kitty
+has a certain little charm of its own&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Yes!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: When a woman has reached your time of life&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>furious</i>): Yes!!!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Petulance sits remarkably ill upon her&mdash;upon <i>you</i>, my dear&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: When a man has reached your time of life and remains as great
+a fool&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>. (<i>furious</i>): A fool?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Yes! As great a fool and an idiot as ever&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I was always aware you had the very devil of a temper, Florence,
+and now, after fifteen years of married life, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> make the discovery that
+you can be excessively&mdash;ahem!&mdash;unladylike.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: It's highly amusing to hear you express an opinion on the
+subject of how a lady should behave. When one remembers your sisters,
+one is inclined to believe you were not, perhaps, brought up in a school
+of the very highest standard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: You insult my sisters! <i>(Becomes much excited and takes her by
+the arm.)</i> Repeat that again!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Jem</span>. Stands in amazement.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: For Heaven's sake, what <i>is</i> the matter?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Ask your Aunt Florence, my dear boy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I feel positively ashamed that you should come upon us&mdash;upon
+your uncle, I mean&mdash;at a moment when he is behaving like a raving
+madman!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: A raving madman! My uncle Jem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Man-like, you side with a man! (<i>With increasing agitation</i>) I
+have always known your uncle to be a weak, nerveless&mdash;&mdash;(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>.
+Looks around, dumfounded.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image033.jpg" width="500" height="359" alt="JEM: &quot;WHAT IS THE MATTER?&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">JEM: &quot;WHAT IS THE MATTER?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Dear aunty! I'm frightened! You can't be well! What does this
+mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Only that your husband is inciting mine to be abusive.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Impossible!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Woman-like, you side with a man! Let me tell you that your
+poor uncle is pitiable in his foolishness this morning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Florence! Once for all, I assert my authority. Be silent this
+moment, or I shall feel obliged to ask you to return home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Without you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: If that pleases you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: It would suit me remarkably well.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: In that case&mdash;"Go!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I shall, instantly; and when you desire to come home, I shall
+give the servants orders not to admit you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> (<i>turning to <span class="smcap">Jem</span></i>): A man not admitted to his own house! That's
+rather too good, isn't it, Jem?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: We shall see! (<i>Turns to <span class="smcap">Kitty</span></i>) Meanwhile, Kitty, I bid you
+good-bye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Oh! Aunty! You can't mean that! Pray don't say good-bye!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>dramatically</i>): Yes, I mean "<i>Good-bye</i>"! (<i>Brushes furiously
+past <span class="smcap">Sir William</span>, and exit. <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> makes movement to follow, but returns
+to <span class="smcap">Sir William</span> and <span class="smcap">Jem</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span> <i>(bitterly):</i> Don't hold her back, Kitty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: You are mad!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Less mad than you, when an hour ago you told me you found life
+intolerable with Kitty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>moved</i>): He said that? <i>Jem</i> said that to you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: No, no! (<i>Compunctious.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W.</span>: Oh! It's an easy matter for two young people to kiss again with
+tears. 'Twill be a different matter between your aunt and me. Florence
+will have no chance, however much she may wish it. The time has come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
+for me to put down my foot at last. (<i>Exit, talking and gesticulating
+angrily.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>(<i>After the exit of <span class="smcap">Sir William, Jem</span> and <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> look up slowly at one
+another. Their eyes meet. They turn away.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: (<i>much embarrassed</i>): Kitty!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Jem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: This is painful! In fact, it's worse than wicked&mdash;it's vulgar!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>gently</i>): It's simply dreadful to see two people behaving in
+such a way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: And at their time of life!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: That's the awful part of it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: I wonder how they can do it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>archly, yet on the verge of tears</i>): So do I!</p>
+
+<p>(<i>At the last words they turn; their eyes meet. <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> falters. <span class="smcap">Jem</span>
+falters. After a moment they fall into one another's arms.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 471px;">
+<img src="images/image034.jpg" width="471" height="500" alt="KITTY: &quot;SPLENDID! I NEVER SAW ANYTHING SO WELL DONE!&quot;
+
+SIR W.: &quot;IT&#39;S NO LAUGHING MATTER!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">KITTY: &quot;SPLENDID! I NEVER SAW ANYTHING SO WELL DONE!&quot;<br /><br />
+
+SIR W.: &quot;IT&#39;S NO LAUGHING MATTER!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Porter</span></i>: Her ladyship has bidden me to put her trunks together,
+ma'am.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Wait a minute, Porter. Perhaps I can persuade her ladyship to
+stay. (<i>Voices from without.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: I wish to go this instant, and alone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: By all means, and to-morrow my lawyer shall wait on you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: And mine on you. (<i>After a moment, they enter.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: And it has come to this, William!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: By mutual consent. This is the happiest day of my life. I
+breathe again. I know now I have never breathed until this moment since
+the day I married you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: This is beyond everything! (<i>Violently excited.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> (<i>whispers aside to <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, unobserved; play on both sides; then,
+after evidently agreeing on a plan, pretend to treat the matter as a
+joke; advancing</i>): Bravo! Bravissimo! <i>Capital!</i> (<i>Roars with forced
+laughter.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Splendid! I never saw anything so well done! (<i>Joins her husband
+in laughter.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: It's no laughing matter!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Ha! ha! I daresay not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Irving and Ellen Terry are not in it! (<i>Continues laughing.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: What <i>can</i> you mean?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Oh, don't pretend that you and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> uncle have not been getting up
+this little comedy of a quarrel, merely to show Kitty and me what fools
+we look when <i>we</i> are fighting! Why! It was better than any play I ever
+saw!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: It's all been in sober earnest, I assure you.</p>
+
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> recovers slightly. Looks first at <span class="smcap">Jem</span>, then at <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, and
+lastly at <span class="smcap">Sir William</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>slowly</i>): You call&mdash;all&mdash;this&mdash;a little comedy? (<i>Recovers
+more, but very gradually.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Why, yes! Don't attempt to say it wasn't&mdash;(<i>slyly</i>)&mdash;especially
+after all you told me this morning about how cleverly you manage my
+uncle. Just let me see you glance at him in the way you said you could.
+(<i>Whispering.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> further recovers herself. Her expression softens. After a
+minute or two she smiles meaningly to herself.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Now, Uncle Will, do finish off by pretending to make up the
+quarrel! There's my aunt waiting with her smile already!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>. (<i>stupidly</i>): <i>Pretend</i> to make up the quarrel?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>suddenly radiant</i>): Why, yes! You silly old goose! Don't you
+see the fun? Pretend to give me a kiss at once. (<i>They kiss.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span> and <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> (<i>aside</i>): That's a comfort. (<i>They walk up stage.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> (<i>aside to <span class="smcap">Sir William</span></i>): I can see you are dying to make
+amends for all you have just said!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: I don't deny that I may be!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Then tell me what it was you were concocting with Jem! There's
+an old dear!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Since we are all good friends again I don't mind telling you Jem
+was confiding his little troubles to me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: But you had already found them out!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: And also that there was a possibility of a separation!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: Silly children!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir W</span>.: Had you not at once flown into a rage, I should have broken my
+promise to Jem, and have told you all!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span>: That was quite right of you. (<i>They walk up stage, amicably,
+arm-in-arm. <span class="smcap">Jem</span> and <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> walk to <span class="smcap">centre</span>.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: You will find me ready dressed to start for eight o'clock matins,
+to-morrow morning, Kitty!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: Oh! That's very much too much to ask of you!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: Not at all! Providing you won't insist on going out with the guns.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>: I shall only wish what <i>you</i> wish from this day forward, dearest
+Jem!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jem</span>: That's all right! (<i>They kiss, laughingly, as the curtain descends.
+<span class="smcap">Lady Flo</span> and <span class="smcap">Sir William</span> look on smiling.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The rights of representation are reserved.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="ZIG_ZAGS_AT_THE_ZOO" id="ZIG_ZAGS_AT_THE_ZOO"></a></h2>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 437px;">
+<img src="images/image036.jpg" width="437" height="600" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3>Zig Zag: Cursorean</h3>
+
+<p>Such birds as, having wings, fly not, preferring to walk, to run, or to
+waddle, as legs and other circumstances may permit or compel&mdash;these are
+the cursores: such birds also as, having no wings, or none to speak of,
+run by compulsion on such legs as they may muster. These are many&mdash;so
+many that I almost repent me of the heading to this chapter, wherein I
+may speak only of the struthiones among the cursores&mdash;the curious
+cassowary, the quaint kiwi, the raucous rhea, the errant emeu, and the
+overtopping ostrich. But the heading is there&mdash;let it stand; for in the
+name of the cursores I see the raw material of many sad jokes&mdash;whereunto
+I pray I may never be tempted, but may leave them for an easy exercise
+for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> such as have set out upon the shameless career of the irreclaimable
+pun-flinger.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;">
+<img src="images/image037-1.jpg" width="229" height="350" alt="&quot;GET OUT OF THIS!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;GET OUT OF THIS!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was some time&mdash;years&mdash;before I got rid of the impression left upon me
+by the first ostrich with which I became acquainted. He lived in an old
+picture-book, and would nowadays be considered quite out of fashion by
+up-to-date ostriches, having webbed feet and an improper number of toes.
+I like to believe that feet of this sort were popular among ostriches at
+that time, being loath to destroy early beliefs. From the same cause, I
+have other little private superstitions about the ostrich; there was no
+ostrich, so far as I can remember, in my Noah's ark, whence I derive my
+conviction that the species cannot have existed at the time of the
+Deluge, but has been evolved, in the succeeding centuries, by a gradual
+approach and assimilation of the several characteristics of the camel
+and the goose.</p>
+
+<p>The two ostriches here, at the Zoo, have no pet names bestowed on them
+by the keepers. This is inconvenient, not to say unfair. They have been
+placed, it will be observed, in the stables hitherto occupied by the
+late lamented giraffes. It is a striking and notable instance of care
+and the sense of fitness of things on the part of the Society. These
+stables, they probably reflected, have all along been fitted with
+tenants twenty feet high&mdash;queer tenants, which were often called
+camelopards. We can't replace these with similar tenants, unfortunately,
+but we will do our best with animals as high as possible and with all
+available neck; and they shall be camel-geese. And here they are; a few
+feet short, unavoidably, but as high as possible; quite the equivalent
+of the giraffes so far as concerns the camel, and as much superior as
+one may consider a goose to a leopard. And here you may stand and watch
+them, or sit. And you may watch, if you please, for the coming of the
+giraffes which the Society are now anxious to buy, or for the wandering
+wraiths of those dead, dispossessed, and indignant. Meantime inventing
+names for the two camel-geese&mdash;let us say Atkinson and Pontius Pilate.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image037-2.jpg" width="500" height="361" alt="ATKINSON DOZES." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ATKINSON DOZES.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 260px;">
+<img src="images/image038-1.jpg" width="260" height="400" alt="HIGH KICKS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">HIGH KICKS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>I like to stand by Atkinson till he dozes. Atkinson is a fine, big
+fellow, and when he squats down his head is in a convenient position for
+observation. Presently he gapes; then his eyes shut, and his beak
+droops&mdash;just a very little. Then the beak droops a little more, and
+signs of insecurity appear about the neck. Very soon a distinct
+departure from the vertical is visible in that neck; it melts down
+ruinously till almost past recovery, and then suddenly springs erect,
+carrying an open-eyed head, wherefrom darts a look of indignant
+repudiation of any disposition to fall asleep; and so keeps until the
+eyes close again. I have waited long, but have never seen Atkinson fall
+permanently asleep.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 181px;">
+<img src="images/image038-2.jpg" width="181" height="500" alt="GILLIE CALLUM." title="" />
+<span class="caption">GILLIE CALLUM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The possibilities of the ostrich are not properly recognised. He is
+domesticated, and bred with the utmost ignominy in a poultry run, and
+his tail is pulled out with impunity. I am not quite sure that he
+habitually figures on South African dinner tables with his legs skewered
+to his ribs, but he has fallen quite low enough for that; submitting
+even to the last indignity of being hatched out by a common stove
+incubator. Now, the elephant has also been domesticated, but he has also
+been allowed to adopt a profession. He dances on a tub and rides a
+tricycle at a circus. Nothing of this sort has been attempted with the
+ostrich, but much might be done. He would make a first-rate bicyclist,
+and could get through much of the business of the "eccentric comedian."
+A couple of them would go to make a capital knockabout act. High kicks
+of the very highest, floor-strides of the very longest&mdash;and there would
+be a world of opportunities in the neck. No end of possibilities lie in
+the neck&mdash;even the "legitimate." You could run in a forty-minute sketch,
+wherein two long-separated but faithful lovers should fall against each
+other and wind their necks about together like a caduceus, or
+barley-sugar&mdash;or anything. Also the camel-goose might fling his neck
+about the villain, and strangle him. But perhaps, after all, variety
+business would suit best. Pontius Pilate in a kilt and philibeg would
+bring down the house with a Highland fling or gillie callum. And
+Atkinson in a long-stride table chair and banjo act would be comforting
+to the perceptions.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 308px;">
+<img src="images/image038-3.jpg" width="308" height="250" alt="LONG SEPARATED." title="" />
+<span class="caption">LONG SEPARATED.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Whether the ostrich is actually such an ass as to hide his head with a
+notion of concealing himself I don't quite know, but there is certainly
+a deal of ass in the camel-goose. A Hottentot will put an ostrich skin
+over his head, and walking with his natural shanks exposed get among an
+ostrich family and kill them off one after another, to the family's
+astonishment. Now, a bird who mistakes a nigger with a mask for an
+intimate relation plainly enjoys in his composition a large flavour of
+the ass. Not knowing it, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> the camel-goose is just as happy, and
+neither experiences the bitterness of being sold nor the sweetness of
+selling. I don't believe that Atkinson was even aware of the triumphant
+sell which he lately assisted in administering to Mr. Toots, the cat
+from the camel-house.</p>
+
+<p>The cat in the ostrich-house is a sly fellow, and I believe he knows why
+there are fewer pigeons in the roof of the hippopotamus-house than there
+were. He horribly sold Mr. Toots, who was anxious to have a snack of
+poultry himself, for a change. "In my house," said this bold, bad cat,
+"there are the biggest pigeons you ever saw. Go in and try one, while I
+look out for the keeper." And the trustful Mr. Toots went in; and when,
+full of a resolve to make it hot for everything feathered in that house,
+Mr. Toots bounced into the presence of Atkinson, who is rather more than
+seven feet high, he came out anxious for the scalp of that other cat. I
+never mention this little adventure to Mr. Toots, who is sensitive, but
+all the other Zoo cats chaff him terribly. Even Jung Perchad and the
+other elephants snigger quietly as they pass, and Bob the Bactrian, from
+the camel-house, laughs outright; it is a horrid, coarse, vulgar,
+exasperating laugh, that of Bob's. Atkinson, however, is all unconscious
+of the joke, and remains equally affable to cats, pigeons, and human
+beings.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/image039.jpg" width="150" height="603" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Pontius Pilate is just the sort of camel-gander that <i>would</i> bury its
+head to hide itself. Pontius Pilate is, I fear, an ass; also a snob. He
+has a deal of curiosity with regard to Atkinson, who is a recent
+arrival, and lately belonged to the Queen. Also, he is often disposed to
+pay a visit&mdash;with his head&mdash;to Atkinson's quarters, and take a friendly
+snack&mdash;at Atkinson's expense; this by an insinuation of the neck out
+between his own bars and in between those of Atkinson, adjoining. But he
+doesn't understand the laws of space. Having once fetched his neck
+around the partition into Atkinson's larder by chancing to poke his head
+through the end bars, he straightway assumes that what is possible
+between some bars is possible between all; and wheresoever he may now be
+standing when prompted by companionable peckishness, straight he plunges
+among the nearest bars, being mightily astonished at his inability to
+reach next door, if by chance he have dropped among bars far from
+Atkinson's. He suspects his neck. Is the ungrateful tube playing him
+false? Maliciously shortening? Or are his eyes concerned in fraud? He
+loops his head back among his own adjoining bars, with a vague suspicion
+that they may be Atkinson's after all; and he stretches and struggles
+desperately. Some day Pontius Pilate will weave himself among those
+bars, basket fashion, only to be extricated by a civil engineer and a
+practical smith. Pontius Pilate is the sort of camel-gander that damages
+the intellectual reputation of the species. Of course he would bury his
+head to hide himself. Equally of course he would muzzle himself to
+prevent you from biting him, or tie his legs together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> to prevent you
+from running and catching him, or anything else equally clever. Pontius
+Pilate, I have known you long&mdash;even loved you, in a way. But I have
+observed you closely, and though, like Dogberry, you may have everything
+fine about you, I am impelled sorrowfully to write you down an ass.</p>
+
+<p>The ostrich is one of those birds whose whole command of facial
+expression is carried in the neck. He can only express himself through
+his features by offering you different views of his head. This is a
+great disadvantage. It limits the range. You may express three
+sentiments by the back, front, and side of the head, and something by
+way of combination in a three-quarter face. Then you stop, and have no
+further resource than standing on your head, one of the few things an
+ostrich is not clever at. But with such materials as he has, the ostrich
+does very well. Observe, his mouth is long, and droops at the corners;
+but the corners are wide apart, for there the head is broad.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 204px;">
+<img src="images/image040-1.jpg" width="204" height="400" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Now you may present simple drama by the aid of this mouth&mdash;suitably
+disposed and ordered by the neck. Take Atkinson, here, whose beak has a
+certain tip-tinting distrusted of the teetotaler. Bend his head (only in
+theory, because Atkinson won't stand any practical nonsense)&mdash;bend his
+head to look downward, and let his neck wilt away sleepily. Now, viewed
+from the side, where is a more lamentable picture of maudlin
+intoxication? What could improve it, except, perhaps, a battered hat,
+worn lop-sided, and a cigar-stump? He is a drunken old camel-gander,
+coming home in the small hours, and having difficulties with his
+latch-key. Straighten Atkinson's neck, open wide his eyes, and take a
+three-quarter face view of him. Sober, sour, and indignant, there
+stands, not the inebriated Atkinson, but the disturbed Mrs. Atkinson on
+the stairs, with a candle, and a nightcap, and a lecture. That awful
+mouth actually conjures that candle, that nightcap, and that lecture
+into existence&mdash;you see and hear them more clearly than you do Atkinson,
+although they are not there. But this is an advanced exercise in
+struthian expression&mdash;a complicated feat, involving various and complex
+elements. There is the neck-wilt and the bending of the head; also the
+three-quarter face, not a simple element.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 181px;">
+<img src="images/image040-2.jpg" width="186" height="400" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>The plain and elementary principles of struthian expression lie in the
+mere front and side views. The third simple view, the back, is not
+particularly eloquent, although practice might do something even for
+that. At the side the ostrich is glum,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> savage, misanthropical,
+depressed&mdash;what you will of that sort. Let him but turn and face you&mdash;he
+can't help a genial grin. All done by the versatile neck, you observe,
+which gives the head its position.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 168px;">
+<img src="images/image041-3.jpg" width="168" height="300" alt="GENIAL FRONT." title="" />
+<span class="caption">GENIAL FRONT.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 202px;">
+<img src="images/image041-4.jpg" width="202" height="400" alt="A ROARING SOLILOQUY." title="" />
+<span class="caption">A ROARING SOLILOQUY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Man, instigated by woman, has a habit of pulling out the camel-gander's
+tail. This ruins the appearance of the site of that tail, without
+commensurately improving the head whereunto the tail is transplanted&mdash;an
+unprofitable game of heads and tails, wherein tails lose and heads don't
+win. Even the not over clever ostrich knows better than to wear those
+feathers on the wrong end. Perhaps he knows that he is enough of a fool
+already.</p>
+
+<p>There is a deal of hidden interest about the ostrich's neck. It is the
+cleverest piece of an ostrich&mdash;unless you count his stomach; and even in
+the triumphs of the stomach the neck takes a great share. When a
+camel-goose lunches off a box of dominoes, or a sack of nails, or a
+basketful of broken bottles, there is quite as much credit in the feat
+due to the neck as to the stomach; with anybody else all the
+difficulties of that lunch would begin with the neck&mdash;even a thicker
+neck. Parenthetically, one remembers that the ostrich's neck is not
+always thin. Catch Atkinson here in a roaring soliloquy, and you shall
+see his red neck distended as a bladder, with a mighty grumbling and
+grunting. This by the way. The neck makes nothing of the domino
+difficulty, or the tenpenny nail difficulty, or the door-knob
+difficulty, or the broken bottle difficulty&mdash;which are not difficulties
+to the camel-goose. On the contrary, the neck revels in them and keeps
+the dainties as long as possible. Give Pontius Pilate, or Atkinson&mdash;I am
+quite impartial&mdash;an apple. When he swallows it you shall see it, in a
+bulge, pass along and <i>round</i> his neck; down it goes and backward, in a
+gradual curve, until it disappears among the feathers&mdash;corkscrews, in
+fact. Observe, I recommend an apple for this demonstration. Dominoes and
+clinkers are all very well, but they rattle about inside, and disturb
+the visitors; and with an apple you will the more plainly observe that
+corkscrew.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 226px;">
+<img src="images/image041-2.jpg" width="226" height="350" alt="HEADS AND TAILS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">HEADS AND TAILS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 129px;">
+<img src="images/image041-1.jpg" width="129" height="250" alt="GLUM SIDE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">GLUM SIDE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Not satisfied, you perceive, with enjoying his domino or his door-knob
+all the way along that immense neck, the camel-gander must needs indulge
+in a spiral gullet. It is mere gluttony. Especially is it wicked of
+Atkinson, who has already the longest bird-neck in all these gardens.
+Look at the necks of all the cursores. The poor little wingless kiwi,
+with a mere nothing of a neck&mdash;for a cursore. <i>He</i> does without a spiral
+gullet. The festive cassowary&mdash;which, by-the-bye, <i>doesn't</i> abound&mdash;or
+exist&mdash;on the plains of Timbuctoo, as the rhyme says&mdash;the festive
+cassowary, I say, wears his gullet plain. The rusty rhea takes things
+below with perfect directness. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> lordly emeu gets his dinner down as
+quickly as the length of his neck will permit. It is only when one
+reaches the top of the cursorean thermometer, all among the boilings, so
+to speak, that the ostrich, with the longest neck of all, must poach
+another few inches by going in for a spiral. Pontius Pilate is bad
+enough, but a spiral for Atkinson!&mdash;well, there!</p>
+
+<p>The partiality of the struthians for eccentric refreshments&mdash;clinkers,
+nut-crackers, and the like&mdash;leads many to a superstition that these
+things are as nourishing as they are attractive. They're not. Certain
+liberal asses have a curious habit of presenting the birds with
+halfpence. I scarcely understand why, unless modern environments have
+evolved penny-in-the-slotomaniacs. And I am prepared to bet that on
+occasions they are less generous with their pence. Nevertheless, they do
+it, and it kills the birds. One cassowary who died recently was found to
+contain one and eightpence in copper. I suggest that in future the
+experimentalizers confine their contributions to bank-notes. I have
+taken the trouble to ascertain that these will do no harm while their
+disappearance will afford an additional enjoyment to the contributors
+commensurate with their higher value.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps there is something in the habits of the cassowary himself that
+explains these offerings. The cassowary always comes to meet you at the
+bars with a look of grave inquiry. If you offer no tribute he turns off,
+with many cockings of the beak, surprised, indignant, and contemptuous.
+Very few people can endure this. They hastily produce anything they
+have&mdash;anything to conciliate the contemptuous cassowary. And as he takes
+it, an expression steals across the cassowary's face which seems to
+admit that perhaps the fellow isn't such a shocking outsider after all.
+When a man has nothing more nutritive about him, this form of extortion
+may produce halfpence.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 81px;">
+<img src="images/image042-1.jpg" width="81" height="600" alt="THE CURSOREAN THERMOMETER." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CURSOREAN THERMOMETER.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The rhea is small potatoes beside the ostrich&mdash;merely a smaller and
+dingier camel-gander. But the emeu is a fine upstanding fellow, with his
+haughty sailing head and his great feather boa.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image042-2.jpg" width="500" height="241" alt="THE CASSOWARY DISGUSTED." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CASSOWARY DISGUSTED.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He is a friendly and inquisitive chap, and will come stalking down to
+the wires to inspect you. If you like to walk up and down outside his
+inclosure he will take a turn with you, walking at your side and turning
+when you do. He is justly proud of his height and his ruff, but there is
+nothing objectionably haughty about the emeu; I have always found him
+ready for a quiet chat. He will eat various things, like the ostrich; so
+that one regards him with a certain respect, not to say awe, for there
+is no telling what wonderful things may or may not be inside him. The
+biggest and handsomest emeu here is my particular friend. When he talks
+to you or walks by your side he is very fine; but when he walks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> about a
+little way off, with his head to the ground, foraging, he looks rather
+like a tortoise on stilts, which is not imposing. Sometimes, when he
+thinks nobody is looking, he rushes madly up and down his territory by
+way of relieving his pent-up feelings, stopping very suddenly and
+looking cautiously about to assure himself that nobody saw him. I call
+this emeu Grimaldi; firstly, because Grimaldi is rather a fine name, and
+secondly, because when once you have had a view of his head from the
+back you can't call him anything else.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 236px;">
+<img src="images/image043-1.jpg" width="236" height="400" alt="THE PROUD EMEU." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE PROUD EMEU.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 167px;">
+<img src="images/image043-2.jpg" width="167" height="300" alt="GRIMALDI." title="" />
+<span class="caption">GRIMALDI.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image043-3.jpg" width="500" height="308" alt="THE DIET OF WORMS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE DIET OF WORMS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The most extraordinary bird in the world is the kiwi. But it is not the
+most extraordinary bird seen by visitors to the Zoo, because they never
+see it. The kiwi buries itself asleep all day, and only comes out in the
+night to demolish an unpleasant and inconvenient proverb. The kiwi is
+the latest of all the birds, but catches the most worms. For this let us
+honour the kiwi, and hurl him in the face of the early risers. He stamps
+about the ground in the dark night, and the worm, being naturally a
+fool, as even the proverb demonstrates, comes up to investigate, and is
+at once cured of early rising for ever. The kiwi, having no wings
+(unless you count a bit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> of cartilage an inch or so long, buried under
+the down), has the appearance of running about with his hands in his
+pockets because of the cold. And being covered with something more like
+hair than feathers, is a deal more like a big rat than a bird of any
+sort. Indeed, I don't believe the kiwi himself has altogether made up
+his mind which to be. Before he decides he will probably become extinct.
+Any glimpse his friends have of him here is short. Suddenly brought out
+into the day, he stands for a moment, and blinks; then he puts his beak
+up and his legs apart, and there is a black streak and a heap of straw
+where it vanishes.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/image044-1.jpg" width="300" height="196" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 230px;">
+<img src="images/image044-2.jpg" width="230" height="250" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 467px;">
+<img src="images/image044-3.jpg" width="467" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="One_and_Two" id="One_and_Two"></a><i>One and Two.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By Walter Besant</span>.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>I.</h4>
+
+<p>"Nell!" cried the boy, jumping about, unable to stand still for
+excitement. "It is splendid! He has told me such things as I never
+dreamed. Oh! splendid things! Wonderful things!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, Will."</p>
+
+<p>"I am ashamed. Well, then, he says&mdash;he says"&mdash;the boy's face became
+crimson&mdash;"he says that I can become whatever I please, if I please. It
+is all in me&mdash;all&mdash;all! If I want to be a statesman&mdash;I may. If I want to
+become a judge&mdash;I may. If I should like to be a bishop&mdash;I may. If a
+great scholar&mdash;a great writer&mdash;I may. All, he says, is possible for me,
+if I choose to work&mdash;all&mdash;if I choose to work. Oh! Nell&mdash;isn't it&mdash;isn't
+it wonderful?" He dropped his voice, and his eyes glistened&mdash;his large
+dreamy eyes&mdash;and his cheeks glowed. "If I choose to work. As if I should
+not choose to work! Only those fellows who have got no such glorious
+prospects are lazy. Work? Why, I am mad to work. I grudge every hour.
+Work? You shall see how I will work!"</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 337px;">
+<img src="images/image045.jpg" width="337" height="500" alt="&quot;IT IS SPLENDID!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;IT IS SPLENDID!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He was a lad of seventeen, handsome, tall and straight; his eyes were
+full and limpid; his face was a long oval, his mouth delicate and fine,
+but perhaps not quite so firm as might have been desired. At this moment
+he had just held a conference with his private tutor. It took the form
+of a remonstrance and an explanation. The remonstrance pointed out that
+his work was desultory and liable to be interrupted at any moment, for
+any caprice: that steady grind was incompatible with the giving away of
+whole mornings to musical dreams at the piano, or to rambles in the
+woods, a book of poetry in hand. The explanation was to the effect that
+the great prizes of the world are all within the reach of every clever
+lad who starts with a sufficiency of means and is not afraid of work;
+and that he himself&mdash;none other&mdash;possessed abilities which would justify
+him in aiming at the very highest. But he must work: he must work: he
+had been to no school and knew nothing of competitions with other
+fellows: he must make up for that by hard grind. Think what it may mean
+to a young fellow of imagination and of dreams, this throwing open of
+the gates of the Temple of Ambition&mdash;this invitation to mount the steps
+and enter that great and glittering dome. The temple, within, is all
+glorious with crowns of gold set with precious stones and with crowns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+of bay and laurel. Day and night ascends a hymn in praise of the living;
+they themselves&mdash;the living who have succeeded&mdash;sit on thrones of carved
+woodwork precious beyond price, and hear and receive this homage all day
+long. This lad, only by looking in at the open doors, gasped, and
+blushed, and panted; his colour came and went, his heart beat; he could
+not stand still.</p>
+
+<p>His companion&mdash;they were in a country garden, and it was the spring of
+the year&mdash;was a girl of fifteen, who hung upon his words and adored him.
+Some women begin the voluntary servitude to the man they love at a very
+early age indeed. Nelly at fifteen loved this boy of seventeen as much
+as if they had both been ten years older.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, timidly, and the manner of her saying it betrayed
+certain things. "And you will work, Will, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Work? Nell, since your father has spoken those words of encouragement,
+I feel that there is nothing but work left in me&mdash;regular
+work&mdash;methodical, systematic work, you know. Grind, grind, grind! No
+more music, no more singing, no more making rhymes&mdash;grind, grind, grind!
+I say, Nell, I've always dreamed, you know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have, Will."</p>
+
+<p>"And to find that things may actually come true&mdash;actually&mdash;the finest
+things that ever I dared to dream&mdash;oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is wonderful, Will!" Both of them began to think that the finest
+things had already been achieved.</p>
+
+<p>"It is like having your fortune doubled&mdash;trebled&mdash;multiplied by ten.
+Better. If my fortune were multiplied by fifty I could spend no more, I
+could eat no more, I believe I could do no more with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Genius," said the girl, blushing, because it really did seem an
+original thing to say, "is better than riches."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, it is," the possessor of genius replied, with conviction. "To
+have enough is to have all. I can, if I please, become a bishop, a
+judge, a statesman&mdash;anything, anything. Nell," his voice dropped, "the
+thought makes me tremble. I feel as if I shall not be equal to the
+position. There is personal dignity, you know."</p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed. "You not equal, Will? Why, you are strong enough for
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>"I have made up my mind what to do first of all. When I go to Cambridge
+I shall take up classics. Of course I must take the highest classical
+honours. I shall carry off all the University scholarships, and the
+medals, and the prizes. Oh! and I must speak at the Union. I must lead
+at the Union, and I must be an athlete." He was tall and thin, and he
+stretched out his long arms. "I shall row in the boat&mdash;the 'Varsity
+boat, of course. I shall play in the Eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Will, you are too ambitious."</p>
+
+<p>"No man," he said, severely, "can be too ambitious. I would grasp all. I
+must sweep the board."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! There, I have not yet decided. The Church, to raise the world. The
+Law, to maintain the social order. The House, to rule the nation.
+Literature, Science, Art&mdash;which?"</p>
+
+<p>"In whatever you do, Will, you are certain to rise to the front rank."</p>
+
+<p>"Certain. Your father says so. Oh! I feel as if I was already Leader of
+the House. It is a splendid thing to rule the House. I feel as if I was
+Lord Chancellor in my robes&mdash;on the woolsack. Nothing so grand as to be
+Lord Chancellor. I feel as if I was Archbishop of Canterbury. It is a
+most splendid thing, mind you, to be Archbishop of Canterbury. What
+could be more splendid? He wears lawn sleeves, and he sits in the House
+of Lords. But I must work. The road to all these splendid things, as
+your father says, is through work. It wants an hour yet to dinner. I
+will give that hour to Euripides. No more waste of time for me, Nell."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded his head and ran into the house, eager not to lose a moment.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked after him admiringly and fondly. "Oh!" she murmured;
+"what a splendid thing to be a man and to become Archbishop, and Lord
+Chancellor, and Leader of the House! Oh! how clever he is, and how great
+he will become!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"I've had a serious talk with Challice to-day," said the private tutor
+to his wife in the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Will is <i>such</i> a nice boy," said the wife. "What a pity that he won't
+work!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's got enough money to begin with, and he has never been to a public
+school. I have been firing his imagination, however, with the rich and
+varied prospect before a boy who really will work and has brains. He is
+a dreamer; he has vague ambitions; perhaps I may have succeeded in
+fixing them. But who knows? He is a dreamer. He plays the piano and
+listens to the music. Sometimes he makes verses. Who knows what such a
+lad may do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<p>Two years later, the same pair stood in the same place at the same
+season of the year. Term was over&mdash;the third term of the first year at
+Cambridge.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't pleased your father," said the young man&mdash;he was slight and
+boyish-looking still, but on his face there was a new stamp&mdash;he had
+eaten of the tree of knowledge. "I have won no scholarships and taken no
+prizes. My grand ideas about University laurels are changed. You see,
+Nell, I have discovered that unless one goes into the Church a good
+degree helps nobody. And, of course, it ruins a man in other ways to put
+in all the time working for a degree."</p>
+
+<p>"You know," said Nell, "we don't think so here."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. Then you see I had to make the acquaintance of the men and to
+show them that I was a person of&mdash;of some importance. A man who can play
+and sing is always useful. We are an extremely social College, and
+the&mdash;the friction of mind with mind, you know&mdash;it is the best education
+possible for a man&mdash;I'm sure it is&mdash;much better than poring over Plato.
+Then I found so many things in which I was deficient. French fiction,
+for example; and I knew so very little about Art&mdash;oh! I have passed a
+most busy and useful time."</p>
+
+<p>He forgot to mention such little things as nap, <i>&eacute;cart&eacute;</i>, loo,
+billiards, Paris, and London, as forming part of his education. Yet
+everybody will own that these are important elements in the forming of a
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Nell.</p>
+
+<p>"But your father won't. He is all for the Senate House. You do take a
+little interest in me still, Nell? Just a little interest&mdash;in an old
+friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do, Will." She blushed and dropped her eyes. Their fingers
+touched, but only for a moment. The touching of fingers is very
+innocent. Perhaps it was accidental.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 282px;">
+<img src="images/image047.jpg" width="282" height="450" alt="&quot;HE SPOKE VERY GRANDLY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE SPOKE VERY GRANDLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Nell," said the young man, with deep feeling and earnestness, "whatever
+I do&mdash;to whatever height I rise, I shall always feel"&mdash;here he stopped
+because he could hardly say that she had stimulated him or inspired
+him&mdash;"always feel, Nell, that it began here&mdash;it began here." He looked
+about the garden. "On this spot I first resolved to become a great man.
+It was on the very day when your father told me that I might be great if
+I chose; of course, I knew so much before, but it pleased me; it
+stimulated me. I told you here, on this spot, and you approved and
+cheered me on. Well, I don't, of course, tell any of the men about my
+ambitions. Mostly, I suppose, they have got their own. Some of them, I
+know, don't soar above a country living&mdash;I laugh in my sleeve, Nell,
+when I listen to their confessions&mdash;a country living&mdash;a house and a
+garden and a church; that is a noble ambition, truly! I laugh, Nell,
+when I think of what I could tell them; the rapid upward climb; the
+dizzy height, the grasp of power and of authority!"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke very grandly, and waved his hand and threw his head back and
+looked every inch a leader&mdash;one round whom the soldiers of a holy cause
+would rally. The girl's eyes brightened and her cheek glowed, even
+though she remembered what at that moment she would rather have
+forgotten: the words of her father at breakfast. "Challice has done
+nothing," he said, "he has attempted nothing; now he will never do
+anything. It is just as I expected. A dreamer! A dreamer!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was here," Will continued, "that I resolved on greatness. It was on
+this spot that I imparted my ambition to you. Nell, on this spot I again
+impart to you my choice. I will become a great statesman. I have money
+to start me&mdash;most fellows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> have to spend the best part of their lives in
+getting money enough to give them a start. I shall be the Leader of the
+House. Mind, to anyone but you this ambition would seem presumptuous. It
+is my secret which I trust with you, Nell." He caught her hands, drew
+her gently, and kissed her on the forehead. "Dear Nell," he said, "long
+before my ambition is realized, you will be by my side, encouraging, and
+advising, and consoling."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke as a young man should; and tenderly, as a lover should; but
+there was something not right&mdash;a secret thorn&mdash;something jarred. In the
+brave words&mdash;in the tender tones&mdash;there was a touch, a tone, a look, out
+of harmony. Will Challice could not tell his mistress that all day long
+there was a voice within him crying: "Work, work! Get up and work! All
+this is folly! Work! Nothing can be done without work&mdash;work&mdash;work!"</p>
+
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<p>It was about the beginning of the Michaelmas term that the very
+remarkable occurrences or series of occurrences began which are the
+cause and origin of this history. Many men have failed and many have
+succeeded. Will Challice is, perhaps, the only man who has ever done
+both, and in the same line and at the same time. The thing came upon him
+quite suddenly and unexpectedly. It was at two in the morning; he had
+spent the evening quietly in the society of three other men and two
+packs of cards. His own rooms, he observed as he crossed the court, were
+lit up&mdash;he wondered how his "gyp" could have been so careless. He opened
+his door and entered his room. Heavens! At the table, on which the lamp
+was burning, sat before a pile of books&mdash;himself! Challice rubbed his
+eyes; he was not frightened; there is nothing to alarm a man in the
+sight of himself, though sometimes a good deal to disgust; but if you
+saw, in a looking-glass, your own face and figure doing <i>something
+else</i>, you would be astonished: you might even be alarmed. Challice had
+heard of men seeing rats, circles, triangles, even&mdash;he thought of his
+misspent evenings which were by no means innocent of whisky and potash:
+he concluded that this must be an Appearance, to be referred, like the
+rats and circles, to strong drink. He thought that it would vanish as he
+gazed.</p>
+
+<p>It did not: on the contrary, it became, if anything, clearer. There was
+a reading lamp on the table which threw a strong circle of light upon
+the bent head of the reader. Then Will Challice began to tremble and his
+knees gave way. The clock ticked on the mantel-shelf: else there was no
+sound: the College was wrapped and lapped in the silence of sleep.</p>
+
+<p>He nerved himself: he stepped forwards. "Speak," he cried, and the sound
+of his own voice terrified him. Who ever heard of a man questioning
+himself in the dead of night? "Speak&mdash;What does this mean?"</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 478px;">
+<img src="images/image048.jpg" width="478" height="500" alt="&quot;WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then the reader lifted his head, placed a book-mark to keep his place,
+and turned slowly in his chair&mdash;one of those wooden chairs the seat of
+which turns round. Yes&mdash;it was himself&mdash;his own face that met the face
+of the returned reveller. But there was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> terror in that face&mdash;a
+serious resolve, rather&mdash;a set purpose&mdash;grave eyes. He, the reader,
+leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, and the voice again startled the other man. "You have a
+right&mdash;a complete right&mdash;to an explanation. I have felt for a long time
+that something would have to be done; I've been going on in a most
+uncomfortable manner. In spite of my continual remonstrances, I <i>could</i>
+not persuade you to work. You must have recognised that you contained
+two men: the one indolent, dreamy, always carried away by the pleasures
+or caprice of the moment&mdash;a feather-brain. The other: ambitious,
+clear-headed, and eager for work. Your part would give my part no
+chance. Very well; we are partly separated. That is all. Partly
+separated."</p>
+
+<p>The dreamer sat down and stared. "I don't understand," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No more time will be lost," the worker went on. "I have begun to work.
+For some time past I have been working at night&mdash;I am not going to stand
+it any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what made me so heavy in the morning, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That was the cause. Now, however, I am going to work in earnest, and
+all day long."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care, if it's real; but this is a dream. I don't care so long
+as I needn't work with you. But, I say, what will the men say? I can't
+pretend to have a twin, all of a sudden."</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no. Besides, there are other difficulties. We belong to each other,
+you see. We must share these rooms. Listen, I have quite thought it out.
+At night we shall be one; at breakfast and in the Hall we will be one;
+you shall give me the entire use of these rooms all day and all the
+evening for work. In examinations of course you will remain here locked
+in, while I go to the Senate House. You will go to chapel for both."</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;no. Chapel must belong to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I say you will go to chapel for both." This with resolution.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" the other Half gave way, "But what am I to do all day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know. Do what you like. If you like to stay here you
+can. You may play or sing. You may read your French novels; you will not
+disturb me. But if you bring any of your friends here it will be
+awkward, because they will perceive that you are double. Now we will go
+to bed. It is half-past two."</p>
+
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<p>In the morning Will awoke with a strange sense of something. This
+feeling of something is not uncommon with young gentlemen who go to bed
+about three. He got up and dressed. A cup of tea made him remember but
+imperfectly what had happened. "I must have had too much whisky," he
+murmured. "I saw myself&mdash;actually myself&mdash;hard at work." Here his eyes
+fell upon the table. There were the books&mdash;books on Political
+Economy&mdash;with a note-book and every indication of work. More; he knew,
+he remembered, the contents of these books. He sat down bewildered. Then
+it seemed as if there was a struggle within him as of two who strove for
+mastery. "Work!" cried one. "I won't," said the other. "You shall." "I
+won't." A most ignoble quarrel, yet it pulled him this way and that
+towards the table or back in the long easy chair. Finally the struggle
+ended: he fell back; he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the
+room was cleared of the breakfast things, and he saw himself sitting at
+the table hard at work.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious!" he cried, springing to his feet. "Is what I remember of
+last night real? Not a dream!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a dream at all. I will no longer have my career blasted at the
+outset by your confounded laziness. I think you understand me perfectly.
+I am clear of you whenever I please. I join you when I please."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! And have I the same power?"</p>
+
+<p>"You? Certainly not. You are only the Half that won't work. You have got
+no power at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Well&mdash;I shall not stand that."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't help yourself. I am the Intellectual Principle; mine is the
+Will: mine is the clear head and the authority."</p>
+
+<p>"What am I, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"You? I don't know. You are me&mdash;yourself&mdash;without the Intellectual
+Principle. That is what you are. I must define you by negatives. You
+cannot argue, or reason, or create, or invent: you remember like an
+animal from assistance: you behave nicely because you have been trained:
+you are&mdash;in short&mdash;you are the Animal Part."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" He was angry: he did not know what to reply: he was humiliated.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't fall into a rage. Go away and amuse yourself. You can do anything
+you please. Come back, however, in time for Hall."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Animal Part obeyed. He went out leaving the other Part over his
+books. He spent the morning with other men as industriously disposed as
+himself. He found a strange lightness of spirits. There was no
+remonstrating voice within him reproaching him for his laziness, urging
+him to get up and go to work. Not at all; that voice was silent; he was
+left quite undisturbed. He talked with these men over tobacco; he played
+billiards with them; he lay in a chair and looked at a novel. He had
+luncheon and beer, and more tobacco. He went down the river in the
+college boat; he had an hour or two of whist before Hall. Then he
+returned to his room.</p>
+
+<p>His other Half looked up, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Already? The day has flown."</p>
+
+<p>"One moment," said Will, "before we go in. You're a serious sort, you
+know, and I'm one of the&mdash;the lighter ornaments of the College, and I
+sit among them. It would be awkward breaking off all at once.
+Besides&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand. Continue to sit with them for awhile, and talk as much
+idiotic stuff as you please. Presently you will find that a change of
+companions and of conversation has become necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Nobody noticed any change; the two in one sat at table and ate like one;
+they talked like one; they talked frivolously, telling stories like one.
+After Hall they went back to their chambers.</p>
+
+<p>"You can leave me," said the student. "I shall rest for an hour or so.
+Then I shall go on again."</p>
+
+<p>This very remarkable arrangement went on undisturbed for some time. No
+one suspected it. No one discovered it. It became quite natural for
+Challice to go out of his room in the morning and to leave himself at
+work; it became natural to go down to Hall at seven with a mingled
+recollection of work and amusements. The reproaching voice was silent,
+the Animal Part was left at peace, and the Intellectual Part went on
+reading at peace.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 236px;">
+<img src="images/image050.jpg" width="236" height="450" alt="&quot;WILL MET THE TUTOR.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WILL MET THE TUTOR.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>One evening, however, going across the court at midnight, Will met the
+tutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Challice," he said, "is it wise to burn the candle at both ends?
+Come&mdash;you told me this morning that you were working hard. What do you
+call this? You cannot serve two masters."</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite true," said the Reading Half on being questioned. "I have
+foreseen this difficulty for some time. I called on the tutor this
+morning, and I told him of my intention to work. He laughed aloud. I
+insisted. Then he pointed out the absurdity of pretending to work while
+one was idling about all day. This is awkward."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I propose that you stay indoors all the morning until two o'clock,
+locked in."</p>
+
+<p>"What? And look on while you are mugging?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. You may read French novels: you may go to sleep. You must be
+quiet. Only, you must be here&mdash;all the morning. In the afternoon you may
+do what you please. I may quite trust you to avoid any effort of the
+brain. Oh! And you will avoid anything stronger than tea before Hall. No
+more beer for lunch. It makes me heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"No more beer? But this is tyranny."</p>
+
+<p>"No. It is ambition. In the evening you may go out and play cards. I
+shall stay here."</p>
+
+<p>They went to bed. It seemed to Will as if the other Part of him&mdash;the
+Intellectual Part&mdash;ordered him to go to sleep without further thought.</p>
+
+<p>This curious life of separation and of partial union continued, in fact,
+for the whole of the undergraduate time. Gradually, however, a great
+change came over the lazy Half&mdash;the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Animal Half. It&mdash;he&mdash;perceived that
+the whole of his reasoning powers had become absorbed by the
+Intellectual Half. He became really incapable of reasoning. He could not
+follow out a thought; he had no thoughts. This made him seem dull,
+because even the most indolent person likes to think that he has some
+powers of argument. This moiety of Challice had none. He became quite
+dull; his old wit deserted him; he was heavy; he drifted gradually out
+of the society which he had formerly frequented; he perceived that his
+old friends not only found him dull, but regarded him as a traitor. He
+had become, they believed, that contemptible person, the man who reads.
+He was no longer a dweller in the Castle of Indolence; he had gone over
+to the other side.</p>
+
+<p>Life became very dull indeed to this Half. He got into the habit of
+lying on a sofa, watching the other Half who sat at the table tearing
+the heart out of books. He admired the energy of that Half; for himself,
+he could do nothing; if he read at all it was a novel of the lowest
+kind; he even bought the penny novelette and read that with interest; if
+he came to a passage which contained a thought or a reflection he passed
+it over. He had ceased to think; he no longer even troubled himself
+about losing the power of thought.</p>
+
+<p>Another thing came upon him; not suddenly, but gradually, so that he was
+not alarmed at it. He began to care no longer about the games of which
+he had formerly been so fond. Billiards, racquets, cards, all require,
+you see, a certain amount of reasoning, of quick intelligence and rapid
+action. This unfortunate young man had no rapidity of intelligence left.
+He was too stupid to play games. He became too stupid even to row.</p>
+
+<p>He ceased to be a dreamer; all his dreams were gone; he ceased to make
+music at the piano; he ceased to sing; he could neither play nor sing:
+these things gave him no pleasure. He ceased, in short, to take interest
+in anything, cared for nothing, and hoped for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>In Hall the two in one sat now with the reading set. Their talk was all
+of books and "subjects," and so forth. The Intellectual Half held his
+own with the rest: nay, he became a person to be considered. It was
+remarked, however, that any who met Challice out walking found him
+stupid and dull beyond belief. This was put down to preoccupation. The
+man was full of his work; he was meditating, they said, his brain was
+working all the while; he was making up for lost time.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening the lazy Half sat in an easy chair and took tobacco,
+while the other Half worked. At eleven the Industrious Half disappeared.
+Then the Whole went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>They seldom spoke except when Industry had some more orders to give. It
+was no longer advice, or suggestion, or a wish, or a prayer: it was an
+order. Indolence was a servant. "You took more wine than is good for me
+at dinner to-day," said Industry. "Restrict yourself to a pint of
+claret, and that of the lightest, for the future." Or, "You are not
+taking exercise enough. If you have no longer brain power enough even
+for the sliding seat, walk&mdash;walk fast&mdash;go out to the top of the Gogs and
+back again. I want all my energies." Once Indolence caught a cold: it
+was a month before the May examinations. The wrath and reproaches of
+Industry, compelled to give up a whole day to nursing that cold, were
+very hard to bear. Yet Indolence could not resist; he could not even
+remonstrate; he was now a mere slave.</p>
+
+<p>When the examinations came it was necessary to observe precautions of a
+severer kind. To begin with, Indolence had to get up at six and go for
+an hour's run, for the better bracing of the nerves; he had to stay
+hidden indoors all day, while his ambitious twin sat in the Hall,
+flooring papers. He had to give up tobacco in order to keep the other
+Half's head clear. "Courage," said Intellect, "a day or two more and you
+shall plunge again into the sensuality of your pipe and your beer.
+Heavens! When I look at you, and think of what I was becoming!"</p>
+
+<p>Industry got a scholarship; Intellect got a University medal; Ambition
+received the congratulations of the tutor.</p>
+
+<p>"How long," asked the Animal, "is this kind of thing going to continue?"</p>
+
+<p>"How long? Do you suppose," replied the other Half, "that I have given
+up my ambition? Remember what you said two years ago. You were younger
+then. You would sweep the board; you would row in the University boat;
+you would play in the Eleven; you would be a Leader&mdash;in all, all! You
+would then take up with something&mdash;you knew not what&mdash;and you would step
+to the front. You remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"A dream&mdash;a dream. I was younger then."</p>
+
+<p>"No longer a dream. It is a settled purpose.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Hear me. I am going to be
+a statesman. I shall play the highest game of all. I shall go into the
+House. I shall rise&mdash;slowly at first, but steadily."</p>
+
+<p>"And I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are a log tied to my heel, but you shall be an obedient log. If you
+were not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Indolence shivered and crouched. "Am I then&mdash;all my life&mdash;to be your
+servant?"</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 285px;">
+<img src="images/image052.jpg" width="285" height="450" alt="&quot;INDOLENCE SHIVERED.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;INDOLENCE SHIVERED.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Your life? No&mdash;my life." The two glared at each other. "Silence, Log.
+Let me work."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not be silent," cried Indolence, roused to momentary
+self-assertion. "I have no enjoyment left in life. You have taken
+all&mdash;all&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have left what you loved best of all&mdash;your sloth. Lie down&mdash;and
+take your rest. Why, you do nothing all day. A stalled ox is not more
+lazy. You eat and drink and take exercise and sleep. What more, for such
+as you, has life to give? You are now an animal. My half has absorbed
+all the intellectual part of you. Lie down, I say&mdash;lie down, and let me
+work."</p>
+
+<p>The Animal could not lie down. He was restless. He walked about the
+room. He was discontented. He was jealous. The other Half, he saw
+plainly, was getting the better share of things. That Half was admired
+and envied. By accident, as he paced the room, he looked in the glass;
+and he started, for his face had grown heavy: there was a bovine look
+about the cheeks: the eyes were dull: the mouth full. Then the other
+Half rose and stood beside him. Together they looked at their own faces.
+"Ha!" cried Ambition, well satisfied at the contrast. "It works already.
+Mine is the face intended for me: yours is the face into which this
+degenerate mould might sink. Mine contains the soul; yours&mdash;the animal.
+You have got what you wanted, Sloth. Your dreams are gone from you. I
+have got them, though, and I am turning them into action. As time goes
+on, your face will become more bovine, your eyes duller. What will be
+the end?" His brow darkened. "I don't know. We are like the Siamese
+twins."</p>
+
+<p>"One of them took to drink," murmured the inferior Half. "What if I were
+to follow his example?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not. You do not dare?" But his blanched face showed his terror
+at the very thought.</p>
+
+
+<h4>V.</h4>
+
+<p>The first step was achieved. The first class was gained. Challice of
+Pembroke was second classic; he might have been senior but for the
+unaccountable laziness of his first year. He was University scholar,
+medallist, prizeman; he was one of the best speakers at the Union. He
+was known to be ambitious. He was not popular, however, because he was
+liable to strange fits of dulness; those who met him wandering about the
+banks of the river found him apparently unable to understand things; at
+such times he looked heavy and dull; it was supposed that he was
+abstracted; men respected his moods, but these things do not increase
+friendships. Challice the Animal and Challice the Intellect weighed each
+other down.</p>
+
+<p>They left Cambridge, they went to London, they took lodgings. "You are
+now so different from me in appearance," said the Intellect, "that I
+think we may leave off the usual precautions. Go about without troubling
+what I am and what I am doing. Go about and amuse yourself, but be
+careful."</p>
+
+<p>The victim of sloth obeyed; he went about all day long in heavy,
+meaningless fashion; he looked at things in shops; he sat in museums,
+and dropped off to sleep. He strolled round squares. At luncheon and
+dinner time he found out restaurants where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> he could feed&mdash;in reality,
+the only pleasure left to him was to eat, drink, and sleep.</p>
+
+<p>One day he was in Kensington Gardens, sitting half asleep in the sun.
+People walked up and down the walk before him; beautiful women gaily
+dressed; sprightly women gaily talking; the world of wealth, fashion,
+extravagance, and youth. He was no more than three-and-twenty himself.
+He ought to have been fired by the sight of all this beauty, and all
+this happiness. Nobody in the world can look half so happy as a lovely
+girl finely dressed. But he sat there like a clod, dull and insensate.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, a voice which he remembered: "Papa, it is Will Challice!" He
+looked up heavily. "Why, Will," the girl stood before him, "don't you
+know me?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image053.jpg" width="450" height="379" alt="&quot;PAPA, IT IS WILL CHALLICE!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;PAPA, IT IS WILL CHALLICE!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was Nell, the daughter of his tutor, now a comely maiden of
+one-and-twenty, who laughed and held out her hand to him He rose, but
+not with alacrity. The shadow of a smile crossed his face. He took her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Challice!" his tutor clapped him on the shoulder. "I haven't seen you
+since you took your degree. Splendid, my boy! But it might have been
+better. I hear you are reading Law&mdash;good. With the House before you?
+Good again! Let me look at you. Humph!" He grunted a little
+disappointment. "You don't look quite so&mdash;quite so&mdash;what? Do you take
+exercise enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Plenty of exercise&mdash;plenty," replied the young scholar, who looked so
+curiously dull and heavy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let us walk together. You are doing nothing for the moment."</p>
+
+<p>They walked together; Nelly between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," she said, when they arrived at their lodgings in Albemarle
+Street, "what has come over that poor man? He has gone stupid with his
+success. I could not get a word out of him. He kept staring at me
+without speaking."</p>
+
+<p>Was he a lumpish log, or was he a man all nerves and electricity?</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Will Challice partly solved the question, because he
+called and showed clearly that he was an insensible log and a lumpish
+log. He sat for an hour gazing at the girl as if he would devour her,
+but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening Cousin Tom called, bringing Will Challice again&mdash;but how
+changed! Was such a change really due to evening dress? Keen of feature,
+bright of eye, full of animation. "Why, Will," said Nelly, "what is the
+matter with you sometimes? When you were here this morning, one could
+not get a word out of you. Your very face looked heavy."</p>
+
+<p>He changed colour. "I have times when I&mdash;I&mdash;lose
+myself&mdash;thinking&mdash;thinking of things, you know."</p>
+
+<p>They passed a delightful evening. But when Will went away, the girl
+became meditative. For, although he had talked without stopping, on
+every kind of subject, there was no hungry look in his eye, such as she
+had perceived with natural satisfaction in the morning. Every maiden
+likes that look of hunger, outward sign and indication of respect to her
+charms.</p>
+
+<p>They were up in town for a month. Every morning Will called and sat glum
+but hungry-eyed, gazing on the girl and saying nothing. Every evening he
+called again and talked scholarship and politics with her father, his
+face changed, his whole manner different,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> and without any look of
+hunger in his eyes.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;">
+<img src="images/image054.jpg" width="465" height="450" alt="&quot;WILL SAT GAZING ON THE GIRL.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WILL SAT GAZING ON THE GIRL.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>One day after a fortnight or so of this, Will the Animal stood up after
+breakfast and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"There has got to be a change."</p>
+
+<p>"You are changing, in fact," replied the other with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in love. I am going to marry a girl. Now hold your tongue," for
+the Intellectual Half bounded in his chair. "You have left me very
+little power of speech. Let me try to explain what I&mdash;I want to say." He
+spoke painfully and slowly. "Let me&mdash;try&mdash;I have lost, bit by bit,
+almost everything. I don't want to read&mdash;I can't play any more. I don't
+care about anything much. But this girl I do care about. I have always
+loved her, and you&mdash;you with your deuced intellect&mdash;cannot kill that
+part of me. Be quiet&mdash;let me try to think. She loves me, too. She loves
+me for myself, and not on account of you and your success. She is sorry
+for me. She has given me&mdash;I don't know how&mdash;the power of thinking a
+little. When I am married to her, she will give me more. Let us part
+absolutely. Take all my intellect and go. Nell will marry a stupid man,
+but he will get something from her&mdash;something I am sure. I feel
+different already; I said something to-day which made her laugh. What
+are you glaring at me for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not glaring. I am thinking. Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"This has got to stop. Now find some way of stopping it, or&mdash;or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What can you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can drink," he said, with awful meaning. "I can ruin you. And I will,
+unless you agree to part."</p>
+
+<p>The Intellectual Half was looking at him with a strangely softened face.
+There was neither scorn nor hatred in that face. "Dimidium Anim&aelig;," he
+said, "Half of my Soul, I have something to say as well. Confess,
+however, first of all, that I was right. Had it not been for this
+step&mdash;the most severe measure possible, I admit&mdash;nothing would have been
+achieved. Eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps. You <i>would</i> work, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Well&mdash;I have made a discovery. It is that I have been too
+thorough. I don't quite understand how, logically and naturally,
+anything else was possible. I wanted, heaven knows, all the intellect
+there was; you were, therefore, bound to become the Animal, pure and
+simple. Well, you see, we are not really two, but one. Can't we hit upon
+an agreement?"</p>
+
+<p>"What agreement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some agreement&mdash;some <i>modus vivendi</i>. I shall get, it is true, some of
+the Animal; you will get some of the Intellectual, but we shall be
+united again, and after all&mdash;&mdash;" He looked very kindly upon himself, and
+held out his hand. So they stood with clasped hands looking at each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"I found it out through Nell," the Intellectual Half went on. "You went
+to see her every morning&mdash;I went every evening. You were always brimful
+of love for her; I, who knew this, was not moved in the slightest degree
+by her. Oh! I know that she is the best girl that the world, at this
+moment, has to show; I am fully persuaded of that: yet she has ceased to
+move me. I think of her Intellect, which is certainly much lower than my
+own, and I cannot even admire her. In other words, I cannot be moved by
+any woman. This terrifies me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It threatens my future. Don't you see? He who cannot be moved by woman
+is no longer man. But man can only be moved by brother man. If I cannot
+move men my career is at an end. What they call magnetism belongs to the
+animal within us. When that is gone, I now perceive, when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> animal is
+killed, the rest of the man has no longer any charm, any attraction, any
+persuasion, any power of leading, teaching, compelling, or guiding. His
+success, whatever he does, is all glitter&mdash;evanescent glitter. He may
+sit down and hold his tongue, for he can do no more good."</p>
+
+<p>"I only half understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Intellect, in short, my lower Half, is of no use without human passion.
+That is what it means. We have gone too far. Let us end it."</p>
+
+<p>"How? You despise the man who is only animal."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no! The animal is part of man. I understand now. I have done
+wrong&mdash;brother Half&mdash;to separate myself so much from you. Only, you
+carried it too far. You <i>would</i> not work: you would not give me even a
+decent show. Suppose&mdash;I say suppose&mdash;we were united once more. Could I
+count on being allowed to work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Animal, "I have had a lesson too. You shall work," he
+hesitated and shuddered, "in reason, of course&mdash;say all the morning,
+and, if you go into the House, all the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"I would not be hard upon you. I would let you have a reasonable amount
+of indolence and rest. My success will be less rapid, on your account,
+but it will be more solid. Do you think that if we were to be lost again
+in each other, I should once more feel for that girl as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said the Animal, "you would be&mdash;Me; and what I feel for her is, I
+assure you, overwhelming."</p>
+
+<p>That evening Will Challice sat at the open window in the dark, Nellie's
+hand in his. "My dear," he murmured, "tell me, do you love me more
+because I have realized some of our old dreams?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will; how can I tell you? I love you, not your success. If you had not
+done so well, it would have made no difference. Your success is only an
+accidental part of you." Oh! the metaphysician! "You are not your
+success. Yet, of course, I don't love you for your fine degree, you
+conceited boy, and yet it is for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her forehead. "The old dream time was pleasant, wasn't it?
+when we chose to be Archbishop of Canterbury one day and Lord Chancellor
+the next. To be Leader of the House of Commons is the present ambition.
+It is a most splendid thing"&mdash;the dreamer's eyes looked up into space
+with the old light in them&mdash;"a most splendid thing&mdash;to lead the
+House&mdash;to sway the House. But I don't know," he sighed, "it will take an
+awful lot of work. And the Cambridge business did take it out of one
+most tremendously. I didn't believe, Nell, that I had such an amount of
+work in me."</p>
+
+<p>"You have been so gloomy lately, Will. Was that fatigue?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;">
+<img src="images/image055.jpg" width="390" height="450" alt="&quot;HE KISSED HER FOREHEAD.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE KISSED HER FOREHEAD.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Ambition on the brain, Nell," he replied, lightly&mdash;as lightly as of
+old&mdash;success had not destroyed the old gaiety of heart. "I've consulted
+a learned physician, Dr. Sydenham Celsus Galen, Wimpole Street. He says
+that an engagement with the right girl&mdash;he is extremely particular on
+that point, so that I do hope, Nell, we have made no mistake&mdash;is a
+sovereign remedy for all mopey, glum, dumpsy, moody, broody, gloomy,
+sulky, ill-conditioned vapours. It is, he confessed, the only medicine
+in his pharmacop&oelig;ia. All his clients have to follow that
+prescription. You will very soon find that those glum, dumpsy moods have
+vanished quite away. You will charm them away. Oh! I live again&mdash;I
+breathe&mdash;I think&mdash;I don't work so infernally hard&mdash;I am once more
+human&mdash;because I love, and because&mdash;" The girl's head rested upon his
+arm, and he kissed her forehead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Portraits_of_Celebrities_at_Different_Times_of_their_Lives" id="Portraits_of_Celebrities_at_Different_Times_of_their_Lives"></a><i>Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives.</i></h2>
+
+
+<h3>W. CLARK RUSSELL.</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Born</span> 1844.</h4>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 255px;">
+<img src="images/image056-1.jpg" width="255" height="450" alt="AGE 5 (From an Oil Painting)" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 5 (From an Oil Painting)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 288px;">
+<img src="images/image056-2.jpg" width="288" height="350" alt="AGE 17.(From a Photograph.)
+
+(As a Midshipman.)" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 17.(From a Photograph.)<br />
+
+(As a Midshipman.)</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/image056-3.jpg" width="305" height="400" alt="PRESENT DAY. (From a Photo by Elliott &amp; Fry.)" title="" />
+<span class="caption">PRESENT DAY. (From a Photo by Elliott &amp; Fry.)</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Clark Russell was born in New York of English parents. His literary
+taste is a natural gift, his mother being a niece of Charles Lloyd, the
+poet, and a cousin of Christopher Wordsworth, the late Bishop of
+Lincoln, and herself known as a poetess, and the authoress, among other
+things, of "The Wife's Dream." Mr. Clark Russell went to sea as a middy
+before he was fourteen, and during the next eight years picked up the
+thorough knowledge of seafaring life which he afterwards turned to such
+good use in his novels. His first book was "John Holdsworth," but it was
+his second story, "The Wreck of the Grosvenor," which he wrote in little
+more than two months and sold to a publisher for fifty pounds, which
+marked a new era in the evolution of the nautical novel. Since that time
+Mr. Clark Russell has had the sea to himself, and his descriptions of
+sea-scenery, and his pictures of real-life sailors, are not likely soon
+to find a rival. Mr. Clark Russell's latest story, "List, Ye
+Landsmen"&mdash;one of his very best&mdash;is now appearing in <i>Tit-Bits</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>PRINCESS MARIE OF EDINBURGH.</h3>
+
+<h4>BORN 1875.</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 482px;">
+<img src="images/image057.jpg" width="482" height="750" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The marriage of Princess Marie, the eldest daughter of the Duke and
+Duchess of Edinburgh, to Prince Ferdinand of Roumania, which is fixed to
+take place on January the 10th, will almost coincide with the appearance
+of these portraits of the young Princess at different ages. A more
+charming set we have never had the privilege of publishing.</p>
+
+<p>In offering our sincere congratulations and best wishes to the youthful
+pair, we are sure that every reader of <span class="smcap">The Strand Magazine</span> will
+cordially join us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>PRINCE FERDINAND OF ROUMANIA.</h3>
+
+<h4>BORN 1865.</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 658px;">
+<img src="images/image058-1.jpg" width="658" height="600" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 333px;">
+<img src="images/image058-2.jpg" width="333" height="400" alt="PRESENT DAY. From a Photo. by Mandy, Bucharest." title="" />
+<span class="caption">PRESENT DAY. From a Photo. by Mandy, Bucharest.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Prince Ferdinand of Roumania, second son of the reigning Prince Leopold
+of Hohenzollern and Princess Antonia, Infanta of Portugal, was born in
+Sigmaringen on the 24th of August, 1865. After several years of private
+tuition under the parental care, he joined, together with his brothers,
+the gymnasium of D&uuml;sseldorf. He was appointed by the Emperor William a
+lieutenant in the Infantry Life Guards. He then joined the military
+school at Kassel, and after a regular course of studies, obtained his
+commission as officer in the army. In November, 1886, he went to
+Bucharest with his father, and after participating in a brilliant
+review, was nominated by King Charles I. a lieutenant in the 3rd
+Infantry Regiment. On the 14th of March, 1889, he was proclaimed Heir
+Presumptive to the Crown of Roumania by the unanimous vote of the
+Senate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>THE LATE MR. FRED. LESLIE.</h3>
+
+<h4>BORN 1855.</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 219px;">
+<img src="images/image059-1a.jpg" width="219" height="400" alt="AGE 8. From a Photograph." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 8. From a Photograph.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 231px;">
+<img src="images/image059-1.jpg" width="231" height="400" alt="AGE 14. From a Photo. by Eugene Carpot." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 14. From a Photo. by Eugene Carpot.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/image059-2.jpg" width="235" height="250" alt="AGE 26. From a Photo. by the London Stereo. Co." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 26. From a Photo. by the London Stereo. Co.</span>
+</div>
+<p>After leaving Dr. Quine's school at Notting Hill, Mr. Leslie passed a
+short probation in the provinces, and joined the Royalty Theatre in
+1872, making his <i>d&eacute;but</i> on the London stage in the character of
+<i>Colonel Hardy</i> in "Paul Pry." He subsequently visited America to play
+in "Madame Favart," at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. On his return to London
+he created the character of the <i>Duke</i> in "Olivette." Shortly after
+this, in 1882, in the title r&ocirc;le of "Rip Van Winkle" at the Comedy, he
+came prominently into public notice. In this character he proved himself
+a worthy disciple of Joseph Jefferson. Then came a second visit to
+America, from which Mr. Leslie returned after a year to fill his old
+part when "Rip Van Winkle" was again revived. Early in the spring of
+1885 he moved to the Opera Comique, and in the December of that year
+joined the Gaiety Company, in which his loss will be very severely felt.
+As a dramatic author he wrote under the name of A. C. Torr, a derivation
+from the word "Actor."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 356px;">
+<img src="images/image059-3.jpg" width="356" height="750" alt="AGE 37. As a Servant in &quot;Cinder-Ellen,&quot; played by him on
+November 25th, 1892, his last appearance before his death." title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>MISS DOROTHEA GERARD</h3>
+
+<h4>(<span class="smcap">Madame Longard</span>)</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 472px;">
+<img src="images/image060.jpg" width="472" height="750" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Dorothea Mary Stanislaus Margaret Gerard, born August 9th, 1855, at
+Rochsoles House, Lanarkshire, N.B. The following is a brief
+autobiography of this well-known and popular novelist, with which she
+has been good enough to supply us: "My father's name was Archibald
+Gerard. My mother was <i>n&eacute;e</i> Euphemia Erskine Robison. In 1876, being in
+a deadly dull Hungarian country town, my eldest sister (Madame de
+Laszowska) and I took to writing in despair, conjointly, and merely as a
+means of passing the time, signing ourselves 'E. D. Gerard.'
+Considerably to our astonishment we found a publisher for our first
+attempt&mdash;'Reata.' This was followed by 'Beggar My Neighbour' and 'The
+Waters of Hercules' (all three published by Messrs. Blackwood), after
+which our literary partnership ceased. Since then I have written 'Lady
+Baby' and 'Recha' (Blackwood), and 'Orthodox' (first appeared in
+'Longman's Magazine'), and now 'A Queen of Curds and Cream' (Messrs.
+Eden and Co.), all these under the signature 'Dorothea Gerard.' On April
+17th, 1887, I was married to Captain (now Lieut.-Colonel) Julius
+Longard, of the 7th Austrian Lancers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>THE RIGHT HON. STUART KNILL,</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Lord Mayor. Born</span> 1824.</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 247px;">
+<img src="images/image061-1.jpg" width="247" height="300" alt="AGE 12. From a Miniature." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 12. From a Miniature.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 197px;">
+<img src="images/image061-3a.jpg" width="197" height="400" alt="AS ALDERMAN AND SHERIFF. From a Photograph by the London
+Stereoscopic Co." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AS ALDERMAN AND SHERIFF. From a Photograph by the London
+Stereoscopic Co.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 238px;">
+<img src="images/image061-2.jpg" width="238" height="250" alt="AGE 38. From a Photograph." title="" />
+<span class="caption">AGE 38. From a Photograph.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 359px;">
+<img src="images/image061-3.jpg" width="359" height="450" alt="PRESENT DAY AS LORD MAYOR. From a Photograph by the
+London Stereoscopic Co." title="" />
+<span class="caption">PRESENT DAY AS LORD MAYOR. From a Photograph by the
+London Stereoscopic Co.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Stuart Knill, whose election to the Mayoralty this year was invested
+with unusual interest, is the son of the late Mr. John Knill, of Fresh
+Wharf, London Bridge, to whose business he succeeded. He was educated at
+the Blackheath Proprietary School, and at the University of Bonn. He
+entered the Corporation in 1885 as Alderman of the Ward of Bridge, and
+served the office of Sheriff in 1889-90. He is a member of the
+Goldsmiths' Company, and is now Master of the Guild of Plumbers for the
+second time. In this capacity he has taken great interest in all matters
+connected with sanitation and hygiene. He is a leading member of the
+Roman Catholic laity in England.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><i>The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</i></h3>
+
+
+<h2><a name="XIV_THE_ADVENTURE_OF_THE_CARDBOARD_BOX" id="XIV_THE_ADVENTURE_OF_THE_CARDBOARD_BOX"></a>XIV.&mdash;THE ADVENTURE OF THE CARDBOARD BOX.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By Conan Doyle</span>.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In choosing a few typical cases which illustrate the remarkable mental
+qualities of my friend, Sherlock Holmes, I have endeavoured, as far as
+possible, to select those which presented the minimum of sensationalism,
+while offering a fair field for his talents. It is, however,
+unfortunately, impossible to entirely separate the sensational from the
+criminal, and a chronicler is left in the dilemma that he must either
+sacrifice details which are essential to his statement, and so give a
+false impression of the problem, or he must use matter which chance, and
+not choice, has provided him with. With this short preface I shall turn
+to my notes of what proved to be a strange, though a peculiarly
+terrible, chain of events.</p>
+
+<p>It was a blazing hot day in August. Baker Street was like an oven, and
+the glare of the sunlight upon the yellow brickwork of the houses across
+the road was painful to the eye. It was hard to believe that these were
+the same walls which loomed so gloomily through the fogs of winter. Our
+blinds were half-drawn, and Holmes lay curled upon the sofa, reading and
+rereading a letter which he had received by the morning post. For
+myself, my term of service in India had trained me to stand heat better
+than cold, and a thermometer at 90 was no hardship. But the morning
+paper was uninteresting. Parliament had risen. Everybody was out of
+town, and I yearned for the glades of the New Forest or the shingle of
+Southsea. A depleted bank account had caused me to postpone my holiday,
+and as to my companion, neither the country nor the sea presented the
+slightest attraction to him. He loved to lie in the very centre of five
+millions of people, with his filaments stretching out and running
+through them, responsive to every little rumour or suspicion of unsolved
+crime. Appreciation of Nature found no place among his many gifts, and
+his only change was when he turned his mind from the evil-doer of the
+town to track down his brother of the country.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image062.jpg" width="450" height="326" alt="&quot;I FELL INTO A BROWN STUDY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I FELL INTO A BROWN STUDY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation I had tossed aside
+the barren paper and, leaning back in my chair, I fell into a brown
+study. Suddenly my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Watson," said he. "It does seem a most preposterous way
+of settling a dispute."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Most preposterous!" I exclaimed, and then suddenly realizing how he had
+echoed the inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair and stared at
+him in blank amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"What is this, Holmes?" I cried. "This is beyond anything which I could
+have imagined."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed heartily at my perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"You remember," said he, "that some little time ago when I read you the
+passage in one of Poe's sketches in which a close reasoner follows the
+unspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat the
+matter as a mere <i>tour-de-force</i> of the author. On my remarking that I
+was constantly in the habit of doing the same thing you expressed
+incredulity."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not with your tongue, my dear Watson, but certainly with your
+eyebrows. So when I saw you throw down your paper and enter upon a train
+of thought, I was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it off,
+and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that I had been in
+rapport with you."</p>
+
+<p>But I was still far from satisfied. "In the example which you read to
+me," said I, "the reasoner drew his conclusions from the actions of the
+man whom he observed. If I remember right, he stumbled over a heap of
+stones, looked up at the stars, and so on. But I have been seated
+quietly in my chair, and what clues can I have given you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do yourself an injustice. The features are given to man as the
+means by which he shall express his emotions, and yours are faithful
+servants."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say that you read my train of thoughts from my
+features?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your features, and especially your eyes. Perhaps you cannot yourself
+recall how your reverie commenced?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I cannot."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will tell you. After throwing down your paper, which was the
+action which drew my attention to you, you sat for half a minute with a
+vacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your
+newly-framed picture of General Gordon, and I saw by the alteration in
+your face that a train of thought had been started. But it did not lead
+very far. Your eyes flashed across to the unframed portrait of Henry
+Ward Beecher which stands upon the top of your books. You then glanced
+up at the wall, and of course your meaning was obvious. You were
+thinking that if the portrait were framed, it would just cover that bare
+space and correspond with Gordon's picture over there."</p>
+
+<p>"You have followed me wonderfully!" I exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"So far I could hardly have gone astray. But now your thoughts went back
+to Beecher, and you looked hard across as if you were studying the
+character in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but you
+continued to look across, and your face was thoughtful. You were
+recalling the incidents of Beecher's career. I was well aware that you
+could not do this without thinking of the mission which he undertook on
+behalf of the North at the time of the Civil War, for I remember your
+expressing your passionate indignation at the way in which he was
+received by the more turbulent of our people. You felt so strongly about
+it, that I knew you could not think of Beecher without thinking of that
+also. When a moment later I saw your eyes wander away from the picture,
+I suspected that your mind had now turned to the Civil War, and when I
+observed that your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and your hands
+clenched, I was positive that you were indeed thinking of the gallantry
+which was shown by both sides in that desperate struggle. But then,
+again, your face grew sadder; you shook your head. You were dwelling
+upon the sadness and horror and useless waste of life. Your hand stole
+towards your own old wound and a smile quivered on your lips, which
+showed me that the ridiculous side of this method of settling
+international questions had forced itself upon your mind. At this point
+I agreed with you that it was preposterous, and was glad to find that
+all my deductions had been correct."</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely!" said I. "And now that you have explained it, I confess
+that I am as amazed as before."</p>
+
+<p>"It was very superficial, my dear Watson, I assure you. I should not
+have intruded it upon your attention had you not shown some incredulity
+the other day. But I have in my hands here a little problem which may
+prove to be more difficult of solution than my small essay in thought
+reading. Have you observed in the paper a short paragraph referring to
+the remarkable contents of a packet sent through the post to Miss Susan
+Cushing, of Cross Street, Croydon?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I saw nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then you must have overlooked it. Just toss it over to me. Here it
+is, under the financial column. Perhaps you would be good enough to read
+it aloud."</p>
+
+<p>I picked up the paper which he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> thrown back to me, and read the
+paragraph indicated. It was headed, "A Gruesome Packet."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Susan Cushing, living at Cross Street, Croydon, has been made the
+victim of what must be regarded as a peculiarly revolting practical
+joke, unless some more sinister meaning should prove to be attached to
+the incident. At two o'clock yesterday afternoon a small packet, wrapped
+in brown paper, was handed in by the postman. A cardboard box was
+inside, which was filled with coarse salt. On emptying this, Miss
+Gushing was horrified to find two human ears, apparently quite freshly
+severed. The box had been sent by parcel post from Belfast upon the
+morning before. There is no indication as to the sender, and the matter
+is the more mysterious as Miss Cushing, who is a maiden lady of fifty,
+has led a most retired life, and has so few acquaintances or
+correspondents that it is a rare event for her to receive anything
+through the post. Some years ago, however, when she resided at Penge,
+she let apartments in her house to three young medical students, whom
+she was obliged to get rid of on account of their noisy and irregular
+habits. The police are of opinion that this outrage may have been
+perpetrated upon Miss Cushing by these youths, who owed her a grudge,
+and who hoped to frighten her by sending her these relics of the
+dissecting-rooms. Some probability is lent to the theory by the fact
+that one of these students came from the north of Ireland, and, to the
+best of Miss Cushing's belief, from Belfast. In the meantime, the matter
+is being actively investigated, Mr. Lestrade, one of the very smartest
+of our detective officers, being in charge of the case."</p>
+
+<p>"So much for the <i>Daily Chronicle</i>" said Holmes, as I finished reading.
+"Now for our friend Lestrade. I had a note from him this morning, in
+which he says: 'I think that this case is very much in your line. We
+have every hope of clearing the matter up, but we find a little
+difficulty in getting anything to work upon. We have, of course, wired
+to the Belfast post-office, but a large number of parcels were handed in
+upon that day, and they have no means of identifying this particular
+one, or of remembering the sender. The box is a half-pound box of
+honeydew tobacco, and does not help us in any way. The medical student
+theory still appears to me to be the most feasible, but if you should
+have a few hours to spare, I should be very happy to see you out here. I
+shall be either at the house or in the police-station all day.' What say
+you, Watson? Can you rise superior to the heat, and run down to Croydon
+with me on the off chance of a case for your annals?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was longing for something to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have it, then. Ring for our boots, and tell them to order a
+cab. I'll be back in a moment, when I have changed my dressing-gown and
+filled my cigar-case."</p>
+
+<p>A shower of rain fell while we were in the train, and the heat was far
+less oppressive in Croydon than in town. Holmes had sent on a wire, so
+that Lestrade, as wiry, as dapper, and as ferret-like as ever, was,
+waiting for us at the station. A walk of five minutes took us to Cross
+Street, where Miss Cushing resided.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image064.jpg" width="450" height="337" alt="&quot;MISS CUSHING.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MISS CUSHING.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was a very long street of two-story brick houses, neat and prim, with
+whitened stone steps and little groups of aproned women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> gossiping at
+the doors. Half-way down, Lestrade stopped and tapped at a door, which
+was opened by a small servant girl. Miss Cushing was sitting in the
+front room, into which we were ushered. She was a placid-faced woman
+with large, gentle eyes, and grizzled hair curving down over her temples
+on each side. A worked antimacassar lay upon her lap and a basket of
+coloured silks stood upon a stool beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"They are in the outhouse, those dreadful things," said she, as Lestrade
+entered. "I wish that you would take them away altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"So I shall, Miss Cushing. I only kept them here until my friend, Mr.
+Holmes, should have seen them in your presence."</p>
+
+<p>"Why in my presence, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"In case he wished to ask any questions."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the use of asking me questions, when I tell you that I know
+nothing whatever about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, madam," said Holmes, in his soothing way. "I have no doubt
+that you have been annoyed more than enough already over this business."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I have, sir. I am a quiet woman and live a retired life. It is
+something new for me to see my name in the papers and to find the police
+in my house. I won't have those things in here, Mr. Lestrade. If you
+wish to see them you must go to the outhouse."</p>
+
+<p>It was a small shed in the narrow garden which ran down behind the
+house. Lestrade went in and brought out a yellow cardboard box, with a
+piece of brown paper and some string. There was a bench at the edge of
+the path, and we all sat down while Holmes examined, one by one, the
+articles which Lestrade had handed to him.</p>
+
+<p>"The string is exceedingly interesting," he remarked, holding it up to
+the light and sniffing at it. "What do you make of this string,
+Lestrade?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has been tarred."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. It is a piece of tarred twine. You have also, no doubt,
+remarked that Miss Cushing has cut the cord with a scissors, as can be
+seen by the double fray on each side. This is of importance."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot see the importance," said Lestrade.</p>
+
+<p>"The importance lies in the fact that the knot is left intact, and that
+this knot is of a peculiar character."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very neatly tied. I had already made a note to that effect," said
+Lestrade, complacently.</p>
+
+<p>"So much for the string then," said Holmes, smiling; "now for the box
+wrapper. Brown paper, with a distinct smell of coffee. What, you did not
+observe it? I think there can be no doubt of it. Address printed in
+rather straggling characters: 'Miss S. Cushing, Cross Street, Croydon.'
+Done with a broad pointed pen, probably a J, and with very inferior ink.
+The word Croydon has been spelt originally with an i, which has been
+changed to y. The parcel was directed, then, by a man&mdash;the printing is
+distinctly masculine&mdash;of limited education and unacquainted with the
+town of Croydon. So far, so good! The box is a yellow, half-pound
+honeydew box, with nothing distinctive save two thumb marks at the left
+bottom corner. It is filled with rough salt of the quality used for
+preserving hides and other of the coarser commercial purposes. And
+embedded in it are these very singular inclosures."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image065.jpg" width="450" height="344" alt="&quot;HE EXAMINED THEM MINUTELY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE EXAMINED THEM MINUTELY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He took out the two ears as he spoke, and laying a board across his
+knees, he examined them minutely, while Lestrade and I, bending forward
+on each side of him, glanced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> alternately at these dreadful relics and
+at the thoughtful, eager face of our companion. Finally he returned them
+to the box once more, and sat for a while in deep thought.</p>
+
+<p>"You have observed, of course," said he at last, "that the ears are not
+a pair."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have noticed that. But if this were the practical joke of some
+students from the dissecting-rooms, it would be as easy for them to send
+two odd ears as a pair."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. But this is not a practical joke."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The presumption is strongly against it. Bodies in the dissecting-rooms
+are injected with preservative fluid. These ears bear no signs of this.
+They are fresh, too. They have been cut off with a blunt instrument,
+which would hardly happen if a student had done it. Again, carbolic or
+rectified spirits would be the preservatives which would suggest
+themselves to the medical mind, certainly not rough salt. I repeat that
+there is no practical joke here, but that we are investigating a serious
+crime."</p>
+
+<p>A vague thrill ran through me as I listened to my companion's words and
+saw the stern gravity which had hardened his features. This brutal
+preliminary seemed to shadow forth some strange and inexplicable horror
+in the background. Lestrade, however, shook his head like a man who is
+only half convinced.</p>
+
+<p>"There are objections to the joke theory, no doubt," said he; "but there
+are much stronger reasons against the other. We know that this woman has
+led a most quiet and respectable life at Penge and here for the last
+twenty years. She has hardly been away from her home for a day during
+that time. Why on earth, then, should any criminal send her the proofs
+of his guilt, especially as, unless she is a most consummate actress,
+she understands quite as little of the matter as we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the problem which we have to solve," Holmes answered, "and for
+my part I shall set about it by presuming that my reasoning is correct,
+and that a double murder has been committed. One of these ears is a
+woman's, small, finely formed, and pierced for an earring. The other is
+a man's, sun-burned, discoloured, and also pierced for an earring. These
+two people are presumably dead, or we should have heard their story
+before now. To-day is Friday. The packet was posted on Thursday morning.
+The tragedy, then, occurred on Wednesday or Tuesday, or earlier. If the
+two people were murdered, who but their murderer would have sent this
+sign of his work to Miss Cushing? We may take it that the sender of the
+packet is the man whom we want. But he must have some strong reason for
+sending Miss Cushing this packet. What reason, then? It must have been
+to tell her that the deed was done; or to pain her, perhaps. But in that
+case she knows who it is. Does she know? I doubt it. If she knew, why
+should she call the police in? She might have buried the ears, and no
+one would have been the wiser. That is what she would have done if she
+had wished to shield the criminal. But if she does not wish to shield
+him she would give his name. There is a tangle here which needs
+straightening out." He had been talking in a high, quick voice, staring
+blankly up over the garden fence, but now he sprang briskly to his feet
+and walked towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a few questions to ask Miss Cushing," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case I may leave you here," said Lestrade, "for I have another
+small business on hand. I think that I have nothing further to learn
+from Miss Cushing. You will find me at the police-station."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall look in on our way to the train," answered Holmes. A moment
+later he and I were back in the front room, where the impassive lady was
+still quietly working away at her antimacassar. She put it down on her
+lap as we entered, and looked at us with her frank, searching blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I am convinced, sir," she said, "that this matter is a mistake, and
+that the parcel was never meant for me at all. I have said this several
+times to the gentleman from Scotland Yard, but he simply laughs at me. I
+have not an enemy in the world, as far as I know, so why should anyone
+play me such a trick?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming to be of the same opinion, Miss Cushing," said Holmes,
+taking a seat beside her. "I think that it is more than probable&mdash;" he
+paused, and I was surprised on glancing round to see that he was staring
+with singular intentness at the lady's profile. Surprise and
+satisfaction were both for an instant to be read upon his eager face,
+though when she glanced round to find out the cause of his silence he
+had become as demure as ever. I stared hard myself at her flat, grizzled
+hair, her trim cap, her little gilt earrings, her placid features; but I
+could see nothing which could account for my companion's evident
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"There were one or two questions&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am weary of questions!" cried Miss Cushing, impatiently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have two sisters, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"How could you know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I observed the very instant that I entered the room that you have a
+portrait group of three ladies upon the mantelpiece, one of whom is
+undoubtedly yourself, while the others are so exceedingly like you that
+there could be no doubt of the relationship."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are quite right. Those are my sisters, Sarah and Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"And here at my elbow is another portrait, taken at Liverpool, of your
+younger sister, in the company of a man who appears to be a steward by
+his uniform. I observe that she was unmarried at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very quick at observing."</p>
+
+<p>"That is my trade."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are quite right. But she was married to Mr. Browner a few
+days afterwards. He was on the South American line when that was taken,
+but he was so fond of her that he couldn't abide to leave her for so
+long, and he got into the Liverpool and London boats."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the <i>Conqueror</i>, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the <i>May Day</i>, when last I heard. Jim came down here to see me
+once. That was before he broke the pledge; but afterwards he would
+always take drink when he was ashore, and a little drink would send him
+stark, staring mad. Ah! it was a bad day that ever he took a glass in
+his hand again. First he dropped me, and then he quarrelled with Sarah,
+and now that Mary has stopped writing we don't know how things are going
+with them."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 457px;">
+<img src="images/image067.jpg" width="457" height="400" alt="&quot;HOW FAR TO WALLINGTON?&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HOW FAR TO WALLINGTON?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was evident that Miss Cushing had come upon a subject on which she
+felt very deeply. Like most people who lead a lonely life, she was shy
+at first, but ended by becoming extremely communicative. She told us
+many details about her brother-in-law the steward, and then wandering
+off on to the subject of her former lodgers, the medical students, she
+gave us a long account of their delinquencies, with their names and
+those of their hospitals.</p>
+
+<p>Holmes listened attentively to everything, throwing in a question from
+time to time.</p>
+
+<p>"About your second sister, Sarah," said he. "I wonder, since you are
+both maiden ladies, that you do not keep house together."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you don't know Sarah's temper, or you would wonder no more. I tried
+it when I came to Croydon, and we kept on until about two months ago,
+when we had to part. I don't want to say a word against my own sister,
+but she was always meddlesome and hard to please, was Sarah."</p>
+
+<p>"You say that she quarrelled with your Liverpool relations."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and they were the best of friends at one time. Why, she went up
+there to live just in order to be near them. And now she has no word
+hard enough for Jim Browner. The last six months that she was here she
+would speak of nothing but his drinking and his ways. He had caught her
+meddling, I suspect, and given her a bit of his mind, and that was the
+start of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Miss Cushing," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Your sister
+Sarah lives, I think you said, at New Street, Wallington? Good-bye, and
+I am very sorry that you should have been troubled over a case with
+which, as you say, you have nothing whatever to do."</p>
+
+<p>There was a cab passing as we came out, and Holmes hailed it.</p>
+
+<p>"How far to Wallington?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Only about a mile, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very good. Jump in, Watson. We must strike while the iron is hot.
+Simple as the case is, there have been one or two very instructive
+details in connection with it. Just pull up at a telegraph office as you
+pass, cabby."</p>
+
+<p>Holmes sent off a short wire, and for the rest of the drive lay back in
+the cab with his hat tilted over his nose to keep the sun from his face.
+Our driver pulled up at a house which was not unlike the one which we
+had just quitted. My companion ordered him to wait, and had his hand
+upon the knocker, when the door opened and a grave young gentleman in
+black, with a very shiny hat, appeared on the step.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Miss Sarah Cushing at home?" asked Holmes.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Sarah Cushing is extremely ill," said he. "She has been suffering
+since yesterday from brain symptoms of great severity. As her medical
+adviser, I cannot possibly take the responsibility of allowing anyone to
+see her. I should recommend you to call again in ten days." He drew on
+his gloves, closed the door, and marched off down the street.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if we can't, we can't," said Holmes, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she could not, or would not have told you much."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not wish her to tell me anything. I only wanted to look at her.
+However, I think that I have got all that I want. Drive us to some
+decent hotel, cabby, where we may have some lunch, and afterwards we
+shall drop down upon friend Lestrade at the police-station."</p>
+
+<p>We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmes would talk
+about nothing but violins, narrating with great exultation how he had
+purchased his own Stradivarius, which was worth at least five hundred
+guineas, at a Jew broker's in Tottenham Court Road for fifty-five
+shillings. This led him to Paganini, and we sat for an hour over a
+bottle of claret while he told me anecdote after anecdote of that
+extraordinary man. The afternoon was far advanced and the hot glare had
+softened into a mellow glow before we found ourselves at the
+police-station. Lestrade was waiting for us at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! It is the answer!" He tore it open, glanced his eyes over it, and
+crumpled it into his pocket. "That's all right," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found out anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have found out everything!"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" Lestrade stared at him in amazement. "You are joking."</p>
+
+<p>"I was never more serious in my life. A shocking crime has been
+committed, and I think that I have now laid bare every detail of it."</p>
+
+<p>"And the criminal?"</p>
+
+<p>Holmes scribbled a few words upon the back of one of his visiting cards
+and threw it over to Lestrade.</p>
+
+<p>"That is it," he said; "you cannot effect an arrest until to-morrow
+night at the earliest. I should prefer that you would not mention my
+name at all in connection with the case, as I choose to be associated
+only with those crimes which present some difficulty in their solution.
+Come on, Watson." We strode off together to the station, leaving
+Lestrade still staring with a delighted face at the card which Holmes
+had thrown him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"The case," said Sherlock Holmes, as we chatted over our cigars that
+night in our rooms at Baker Street, "is one where, as in the
+investigations which you have chronicled under the names of the 'Study
+in Scarlet' and of the 'Sign of Four,' we have been compelled to reason
+backward from effects to causes. I have written to Lestrade asking him
+to supply us with the details which are now wanting, and which he will
+only get after he has secured his man. That he may be safely trusted to
+do, for although he is absolutely devoid of reason, he is as tenacious
+as a bulldog when he once understands what he has to do, and indeed it
+is just this tenacity which has brought him to the top at Scotland
+Yard."</p>
+
+<p>"Your case is not complete, then?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It is fairly complete in essentials. We know who the author of the
+revolting business is, although one of the victims still escapes us. Of
+course, you have formed your own conclusions."</p>
+
+<p>"I presume that this Jim Browner, the steward of a Liverpool boat, is
+the man whom you suspect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it is more than a suspicion."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet I cannot see anything save very vague indications."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, to my mind nothing could be more clear. Let me run
+over the principal steps. We approached the case, you remember, with an
+absolutely blank mind, which is always an advantage. We had formed no
+theories. We were simply there to observe and to draw inferences from
+our observations. What did we see first?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> A very placid and respectable
+lady, who seemed quite innocent of any secret, and a portrait which
+showed me that she had two younger sisters. It instantly flashed across
+my mind that the box might have been meant for one of these. I set the
+idea aside as one which could be disproved or confirmed at our leisure.
+Then we went to the garden, as you remember, and we saw the very
+singular contents of the little yellow box.</p>
+
+<p>"The string was of the quality which is used by sail-makers aboard ship,
+and at once a whiff of the sea was perceptible in our investigation.
+When I observed that the knot was one which is popular with sailors,
+that the parcel had been posted at a port, and that the male ear was
+pierced for an earring which is so much more common among sailors than
+landsmen, I was quite certain that all the actors in the tragedy were to
+be found among our seafaring classes.</p>
+
+<p>"When I came to examine the address of the packet I observed that it was
+to Miss S. Cushing. Now, the oldest sister would, of course, be Miss
+Cushing, and although her initial was 'S.,' it might belong to one of
+the others as well. In that case we should have to commence our
+investigation from a fresh basis altogether. I therefore went into the
+house with the intention of clearing up this point. I was about to
+assure Miss Cushing that I was convinced that a mistake had been made,
+when you may remember that I came suddenly to a stop. The fact was that
+I had just seen something which filled me with surprise, and at the same
+time narrowed the field of our inquiry immensely.</p>
+
+<p>"As a medical man, you are aware, Watson, that there is no part of the
+body which varies so much as the human ear. Each ear is as a rule quite
+distinctive, and differs from all other ones. In last year's
+<i>Anthropological Journal</i> you will find two short monographs from my pen
+upon the subject. I had therefore examined the ears in the box with the
+eyes of an expert, and had carefully noted their anatomical
+peculiarities. Imagine my surprise then, when, on looking at Miss
+Cushing, I perceived that her ear corresponded exactly with the female
+ear which I had just inspected. The matter was entirely beyond
+coincidence. There was the same shortening of the pinna, the same broad
+curve of the upper lobe, the same convolution of the inner cartilage. In
+all essentials it was the same ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I at once saw the enormous importance of the observation. It
+was evident that the victim was a blood relation, and probably a very
+close one. I began to talk to her about her family, and you remember
+that she at once gave us some exceedingly valuable details.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 214px;">
+<img src="images/image069.jpg" width="214" height="450" alt="&quot;JIM BROWNER.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;JIM BROWNER.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"In the first place, her sister's name was Sarah, and her address had,
+until recently, been the same, so that it was quite obvious how the
+mistake had occurred, and whom the packet was meant for. Then we heard
+of this steward, married to the third sister, and learned that he had at
+one time been so intimate with Miss Sarah that she had actually gone up
+to Liverpool to be near the Browners, but a quarrel had afterwards
+divided them. This quarrel had put a stop to all communications for some
+months, so that if Browner had occasion to address a packet to Miss
+Sarah, he would undoubtedly have done so to her old address.</p>
+
+<p>"And now the matter had begun to straighten itself out wonderfully. We
+had learned of the existence of this steward, an impulsive man, of
+strong passions&mdash;you remember that he threw up what must have been a
+very superior berth, in order to be nearer to his wife&mdash;subject, too, to
+occasional fits of hard drinking. We had reason to believe that his wife
+had been murdered, and that a man&mdash;presumably a seafaring man&mdash;had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> been
+murdered at the same time. Jealousy, of course, at once suggests itself
+as the motive for the crime. And why should these proofs of the deed be
+sent to Miss Sarah Cushing? Probably because during her residence in
+Liverpool she had some hand in bringing about the events which led to
+the tragedy. You will observe that this line of boats calls at Belfast,
+Dublin, and Waterford; so that, presuming that Browner had committed the
+deed, and had embarked at once upon his steamer, the <i>May Day</i>, Belfast
+would be the first place at which he could post his terrible packet.</p>
+
+<p>"A second solution was at this stage obviously possible, and although I
+thought it exceedingly unlikely, I was determined to elucidate it before
+going further. An unsuccessful lover might have killed Mr. and Mrs.
+Browner, and the male ear might have belonged to the husband. There were
+many grave objections to this theory, but it was conceivable. I
+therefore sent off a telegram to my friend Algar, of the Liverpool
+force, and asked him to find out if Mrs. Browner were at home, and if
+Browner had departed in the <i>May Day</i>. Then we went on to Wallington to
+visit Miss Sarah.</p>
+
+<p>"I was curious, in the first place, to see how far the family ear had
+been reproduced in her. Then, of course, she might give us very
+important information, but I was not sanguine that she would. She must
+have heard of the business the day before, since all Croydon was ringing
+with it, and she alone could have understood whom the packet was meant
+for. If she had been willing to help justice she would probably have
+communicated with the police already. However, it was clearly our duty
+to see her, so we went. We found that the news of the arrival of the
+packet&mdash;for her illness dated from that time&mdash;had such an effect upon
+her as to bring on brain fever. It was clearer than ever that she
+understood its full significance, but equally clear that we should have
+to wait some time for any assistance from her.</p>
+
+<p>"However, we were really independent of her help. Our answers were
+waiting for us at the police-station, where I had directed Algar to send
+them. Nothing could be more conclusive. Mrs. Browner's house had been
+closed for more than three days, and the neighbours were of opinion that
+she had gone south to see her relatives. It had been ascertained at the
+shipping offices that Browner had left aboard of the <i>May Day</i>, and I
+calculate that she is due in the Thames to-morrow night. When he arrives
+he will be met by the obtuse but resolute Lestrade, and I have no doubt
+that we shall have all our details filled in."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Sherlock Holmes was not disappointed in his expectations. Two days later
+he received a bulky envelope, which contained a short note from the
+detective, and a type-written document, which covered several pages of
+foolscap.</p>
+
+<p>"Lestrade has got him all right," said Holmes, glancing up at me.
+"Perhaps it would interest you to hear what he says."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"My dear Mr. Holmes,&mdash;In accordance with the scheme which we
+had formed in order to test our theories"&mdash;"the 'we' is rather
+fine, Watson, is it not?"&mdash;"I went down to the Albert Dock
+yesterday at 6 p.m., and boarded the ss. <i>May Day</i>, belonging
+to the Liverpool, Dublin, and London Steam Packet Company. On
+inquiry, I found that there was a steward on board of the name
+of James Browner, and that he had acted during the voyage in
+such an extraordinary manner that the captain had been
+compelled to relieve him of his duties. On descending to his
+berth, I found him seated upon a chest with his head sunk upon
+his hands, rocking himself to and fro. He is a big, powerful
+chap, clean-shaven, and very swarthy&mdash;something like Aldridge,
+who helped us in the bogus laundry affair. He jumped up when he
+heard my business, and I had my whistle to my lips to call a
+couple of river police, who were round the corner, but he
+seemed to have no heart in him, and he held out his hands
+quietly enough for the darbies. We brought him along to the
+cells, and his box as well, for we thought there might be
+something incriminating; but, bar a big sharp knife, such as
+most sailors have, we got nothing for our trouble. However, we
+find that we shall want no more evidence, for, on being brought
+before the inspector at the station, he asked leave to make a
+statement, which was, of course, taken down, just as he made
+it, by our shorthand man. We had three copies type-written, one
+of which I inclose. The affair proves, as I always thought it
+would, to be an extremely simple one, but I am obliged to you
+for assisting me in my investigation. With kind regards, yours
+very truly,&mdash;<span class="smcap">G. Lestrade</span>."</p></div>
+
+<p>"Hum! The investigation really was a very simple one," remarked Holmes;
+"but I don't think it struck him in that light when he first called us
+in. However, let us see what Jim Browner has to say for himself. This is
+his statement, as made before Inspector Montgomery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> at the Shadwell
+Police Station, and it has the advantage of being verbatim."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image071.jpg" width="450" height="412" alt="&quot;HE HELD OUT HIS HANDS QUIETLY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE HELD OUT HIS HANDS QUIETLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Have I anything to say? Yes, I have a deal to say. I have to make a
+clean breast of it all. You can hang me, or you can leave me alone. I
+don't care a plug which you do. I tell you I've not shut an eye in sleep
+since I did it, and I don't believe I ever will again until I get past
+all waking. Sometimes it's his face, but most generally it's hers. I'm
+never without one or the other before me. He looks frowning and
+black-like, but she has a kind o' surprise upon her face. Aye, the white
+lamb, she might well be surprised when she read death on a face that had
+seldom looked anything but love upon her before.</p>
+
+<p>"But it was Sarah's fault, and may the curse of a broken man put a
+blight on her and set the blood rotting in her veins! It's not that I
+want to clear myself. I know that I went back to drink, like the beast
+that I was. But she would have forgiven me; she would have stuck as
+close to me as a rope to a block if that woman had never darkened our
+door. For Sarah Cushing loved me&mdash;that's the root of the business&mdash;she
+loved me, until all her love turned to poisonous hate when she knew that
+I thought more of my wife's footmark in the mud than I did of her whole
+body and soul.</p>
+
+<p>"There were three sisters altogether. The old one was just a good woman,
+the second was a devil, and the third was an angel. Sarah was
+thirty-three, and Mary was twenty-nine when I married. We were just as
+happy as the day was long when we set up house together, and in all
+Liverpool there was no better woman than my Mary. And then we asked
+Sarah up for a week, and the week grew into a month, and one thing led
+to another, until she was just one of ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>"I was blue ribbon at that time, and we were putting a little money by,
+and all was as bright as a new dollar. My God, whoever would have
+thought that it could have come to this? Whoever would have dreamed it?</p>
+
+<p>"I used to be home for the week-ends very often, and sometimes if the
+ship were held back for cargo I would have a whole week at a time, and
+in this way I saw a deal of my sister-in-law, Sarah. She was a fine tall
+woman, black and quick and fierce, with a proud way of carrying her
+head, and a glint from her eye like the spark from a flint. But when
+little Mary was there I had never a thought for her, and that I swear as
+I hope for God's mercy.</p>
+
+<p>"It had seemed to me sometimes that she liked to be alone with me, or to
+coax me out for a walk with her, but I had never thought anything of
+that. But one evening my eyes were opened. I had come up from the ship
+and found my wife out, but Sarah at home. 'Where's Mary?' I asked. 'Oh,
+she has gone to pay some accounts.' I was impatient and paced up and
+down the room. 'Can't you be happy for five minutes without Mary, Jim?'
+says she. 'It's a bad compliment to me that you can't be contented with
+my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> society for so short a time.' 'That's all right, my lass," said I,
+putting out my hand towards her in a kindly way, but she had it in both
+hers in an instant, and they burned as if they were in a fever. I looked
+into her eyes and I read it all there. There was no need for her to
+speak, nor for me either. I frowned and drew my hand away. Then she
+stood by my side in silence for a bit, and then put up her hand and
+patted me on the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>'Steady old Jim!' said she; and, with a kind o' mocking laugh, she ran
+out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, from that time Sarah hated me with her whole heart and soul, and
+she is a woman who can hate, too. I was a fool to let her go on biding
+with us&mdash;a besotted fool&mdash;but I never said a word to Mary, for I knew it
+would grieve her. Things went on much as before, but after a time I
+began to find that there was a bit of a change in Mary herself. She had
+always been so trusting and so innocent, but now she became queer and
+suspicious, wanting to know where I had been and what I had been doing,
+and whom my letters were from, and what I had in my pockets, and a
+thousand such follies. Day by day she grew queerer and more irritable,
+and we had causeless rows about nothing. I was fairly puzzled by it all.
+Sarah avoided me now, but she and Mary were just inseparable. I can see
+now how she was plotting and scheming and poisoning my wife's mind
+against me, but I was such a blind beetle that I could not understand it
+at the time. Then I broke my blue ribbon and began to drink again, but I
+think I should not have done it if Mary had been the same as ever. She
+had some reason to be disgusted with me now, and the gap between us
+began to be wider and wider. And then this Alec Fairbairn chipped in,
+and things became a thousand times blacker.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 396px;">
+<img src="images/image072.jpg" width="396" height="450" alt="&quot;THAT&#39;S ALL RIGHT, MY LASS, SAID I.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THAT&#39;S ALL RIGHT, MY LASS, SAID I.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"It was to see Sarah that he came to my house first, but soon it was to
+see us, for he was a man with winning ways, and he made friends wherever
+he went. He was a dashing, swaggering chap, smart and curled, who had
+seen half the world, and could talk of what he had seen. He was good
+company, I won't deny it, and he had wonderful polite ways with him for
+a sailor man, so that I think there must have been a time when he knew
+more of the poop than the forecastle. For a month he was in and out of
+my house, and never once did it cross my mind that harm might come of
+his soft, tricky ways. And then at last something made me suspect, and
+from that day my peace was gone for ever.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only a little thing, too. I had come into the parlour
+unexpected, and as I walked in at the door I saw a light of welcome on
+my wife's face. But as she saw who it was it faded again, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+turned away with a look of disappointment. That was enough for me. There
+was no one but Alec Fairbairn whose step she could have mistaken for
+mine. If I could have seen him then I should have killed him, for I have
+always been like a madman when my temper gets loose. Mary saw the
+devil's light in my eyes, and she ran forward with her hands on my
+sleeve. 'Don't, Jim, don't!' says she. 'Where's Sarah?' I asked. 'In the
+kitchen,' says she. 'Sarah,' says I, as I went in, 'this man Fairbairn
+is never to darken my door again.' 'Why not?' says she. 'Because I order
+it.' 'Oh!' says she, 'if my friends are not good enough for this house,
+then I am not good enough for it either.' 'You can do what you like,'
+says I, 'but if Fairbairn shows his face here again, I'll send you one
+of his ears for a keepsake." She was frightened by my face, I think, for
+she never answered a word, and the same evening she left my house.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know now whether it was pure devilry on the part of this
+woman, or whether she thought that she could turn me against my wife by
+encouraging her to misbehave. Anyway, she took a house just two streets
+off, and let lodgings to sailors. Fairbairn used to stay there, and Mary
+would go round to have tea with her sister and him. How often she went I
+don't know, but I followed her one day, and as I broke in at the door
+Fairbairn got away over the back garden wall, like the cowardly skunk
+that he was. I swore to my wife that I would kill her if I found her in
+his company again, and I led her back with me, sobbing and trembling,
+and as white as a piece of paper. There was no trace of love between us
+any longer. I could see that she hated me and feared me, and when the
+thought of it drove me to drink, then she despised me as well.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Sarah found that she could not make a living in Liverpool, so she
+went back, as I understand, to live with her sister in Croydon, and
+things jogged on much the same as ever at home. And then came this last
+week and all the misery and ruin.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in this way. We had gone on the <i>May Day</i> for a round voyage of
+seven days, but a hogshead got loose and started one of our plates, so
+that we had to put back into port for twelve hours. I left the ship and
+came home, thinking what a surprise it would be for my wife, and hoping
+that maybe she would be glad to see me so soon. The thought was in my
+head as I turned into my own street, and at that moment a cab passed me,
+and there she was, sitting by the side of Fairbairn, the two chatting
+and laughing, with never a thought for me as I stood watching them from
+the footpath.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, and I give you my word on it, that from that moment I was
+not my own master, and it is all like a dim dream when I look back on
+it. I had been drinking hard of late, and the two things together fairly
+turned my brain. There's something throbbing in my head now, like a
+docker's hammer, but that morning I seemed to have all Niagara whizzing
+and buzzing in my ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I took to my heels, and I ran after the cab. I had a heavy oak
+stick in my hand, and I tell you that I saw red from the first; but as I
+ran I got cunning, too, and hung back a little to see them without being
+seen. They pulled up soon at the railway station. There was a good crowd
+round the booking-office, so I got quite close to them without being
+seen. They took tickets for New Brighton. So did I, but I got in three
+carriages behind them. When we reached it they walked along the Parade,
+and I was never more than a hundred yards from them. At last I saw them
+hire a boat and start for a row, for it was a very hot day, and they
+thought no doubt that it would be cooler on the water.</p>
+
+<p>"It was just as if they had been given into my hands. There was a bit of
+a haze, and you could not see more than a few hundred yards. I hired a
+boat for myself, and I pulled after them. I could see the blurr of their
+craft, but they were going nearly as fast as I, and they must have been
+a long mile from the shore before I caught them up. The haze was like a
+curtain all round us, and there were we three in the middle of it. My
+God, shall I ever forget their faces when they saw who was in the boat
+that was closing in upon them? She screamed out. He swore like a madman,
+and jabbed at me with an oar, for he must have seen death in my eyes. I
+got past it and got one in with my stick, that crushed his head like an
+egg. I would have spared her, perhaps, for all my madness, but she threw
+her arms round him, crying out to him, and calling him 'Alec.' I struck
+again, and she lay stretched beside him. I was like a wild beast then
+that had tasted blood. If Sarah had been there, by the Lord, she should
+have joined them. I pulled out my knife, and&mdash;well, there! I've said
+enough. It gave me a kind of savage joy when I thought how Sarah would
+feel when she had such signs as these of what her meddling had brought
+about. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> I tied the bodies into the boat, stove a plank, and stood
+by until they had sunk. I knew very well that the owner would think that
+they had lost their bearings in the haze, and had drifted off out to
+sea. I cleaned myself up, got back to land, and joined my ship without a
+soul having a suspicion of what had passed. That night I made up the
+packet for Sarah Cushing, and next day I sent it from Belfast.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/image074.jpg" width="450" height="339" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"There you have the whole truth of it. You can hang me, or do what you
+like with me, but you cannot punish me as I have been punished already.
+I cannot shut my eyes but I see those two faces staring at me&mdash;staring
+at me as they stared when my boat broke through the haze. I killed them
+quick, but they are killing me slow; and if I have another night of it I
+shall be either mad or dead before morning. You won't put me alone into
+a cell, sir? For pity's sake don't, and may you be treated in your day
+of agony as you treat me now."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"What is the meaning of it, Watson?" said Holmes, solemnly, as he laid
+down the paper. "What object is served by this circle of misery and
+violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is
+ruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is the great
+standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an
+answer as ever."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Types_of_English_Beauty" id="Types_of_English_Beauty"></a><i>Types of English Beauty.</i></h2>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">From Photographs by Alex. Bassano, Old Bond Street, W.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 542px;">
+<img src="images/image075.jpg" width="542" height="750" alt="" title="" /><span class="caption">MISS LEE.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; MISS MENCE.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; MISS HAYTER.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 495px;">
+<img src="images/image076.jpg" width="495" height="750" alt="THE COUNTESS OF ANNESLEY." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE COUNTESS OF ANNESLEY.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/image077.jpg" width="516" height="750" alt="THE MISSES HATHAWAY. (TWINS)." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE MISSES HATHAWAY. (TWINS).</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PECULIAR_PLAYING_CARDS" id="PECULIAR_PLAYING_CARDS"></a></h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image078-1.jpg" width="600" height="308" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>'What's on the cards?' A question common enough when the actual
+knowledge of the moment does not afford a positive answer; a question,
+too, which has an origin taking us back to the earliest use of playing
+cards. But to how many of those to whom playing cards as a means of
+recreation are familiar is it known what <i>may</i> be found on the cards?
+Yet upon these "bits of painted cardboard" there has been expended a
+greater amount of ingenuity and of artistic effort than is to be found
+in any other form of popular amusement. Pope's charming epic, "The Rape
+of the Lock," gives us, in poetic form, a description of the faces of
+the cards as known to him and to the card-players of his time:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 228px;">
+<img src="images/image078-2.jpg" width="228" height="450" alt="FIG. 1." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 1.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Behold four kings in majesty revered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And four fair queens, whose hands sustain a flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' expressive emblem of their softer pow'r;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caps on their heads and halberds in their hand."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>It is not our purpose to historically trace the evolution of cards&mdash;this
+is a subject beyond the reach of the present article&mdash;but a look farther
+afield will give us evidence that during the last three centuries there
+has been a constant adaptation of cards to purposes which take them
+beyond their intention as the instruments for card playing only. The
+idea that playing cards had their origin in the later years of Charles
+VI. of France may be disposed of at once as a popular error, though it
+is true that the earliest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> authentic examples which still exist are
+parts of the two packs of cards which were produced for the amusement of
+that King, by the hands of Jacques Gringonneur, and of which seventeen
+are preserved in the Biblioth&egrave;que Nationale of Paris.</p>
+
+<p>These are the most early forms of playing cards, and are known as
+"Tarots" (as distinguished from "Numerals," or cards which have the
+consecutively marked "suit" signs), and which had evidently a purpose
+outside the ordinary games of playing cards as known to us. The "Tarot"
+pack consists variously of seventy-two, seventy-seven, or seventy-eight
+cards, including the "Tarots," which give them their distinctive name.
+"Tarot" as a game was familiar three centuries ago in England, but is so
+no longer, although it has a limited use in other parts of Europe still.
+One of the "Tarot" cards, of the Biblioth&egrave;que Nationale, "La Mort," is
+shown as the first of our illustrations (Fig. 1).</p>
+
+<div class="figLEFT" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/image079-1.jpg" width="250" height="358" alt="FIG. 2." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 2.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 242px;">
+<img src="images/image079-2.jpg" width="242" height="450" alt="FIG. 3." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 3.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Familiar to those who are conversant with the literature of playing
+cards will be the Knave of Clubs, shown in Fig. 2, which is one of the
+fragments of a pack of cards found, in 1841, by Mr. Chatto, in the
+wastepaper used to form the pasteboard covers of a book. These cards are
+printed in outline from wood blocks and the colour filled in by
+stencilling, a method employed in the manufacture of cards down to a
+very few years ago. The date of these cards may safely be taken as not
+more recent than 1450, and they are most interesting as being coeval
+with, if not antecedent to, the most early form of printed book
+illustration as shown in the "Biblia Pauperum."<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> The archaic drawing
+of the features, with its disregard of facial perspective, and the
+wondrous cervical anatomy, do not lessen our admiration of the vigour
+and "go" shown in this early example of the art of the designer and wood
+engraver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It is in interesting relation to the knaves of a pack of cards to note
+the curious conservatism which has belonged to them during the last four
+centuries and a half. In a MS. in the British Museum, written in the
+year 1377, the monkish writer, in a moralization on the life of man,
+suggests its resemblance to a game of cards; and he gives us a
+description and the attributes of some of the cards. Of those which we
+now know as knaves, he says two of them hold their halberds or arms
+downwards and two of them upwards&mdash;a distinction which is retained on
+many of the playing cards still manufactured.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 252px;">
+<img src="images/image080-1.jpg" width="252" height="450" alt="FIG. 4." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 4.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In Fig. 3 we have one of the cards from a series of "Tarots" of Italian
+origin, also preserved in the Biblioth&egrave;que Nationale, and which may be
+dated about 1470. These are very beautiful in design, and indicate that
+they were thought worthy of the employment of the highest artistic
+talent.</p>
+
+<p>We have an example of a somewhat more modern date in the Knave of
+Diamonds (Fig. 4), in which the costume and character point to the early
+part of the sixteenth century as the period of their production. This
+also is from a fragment discovered in the boards of an old book&mdash;a
+source which may be commended to the watchfulness of the bookbinder, as
+the bindings of old books are still likely to provide other interesting
+examples.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 262px;">
+<img src="images/image080-2.jpg" width="262" height="450" alt="FIG. 5" title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 5</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Before us are parts of two packs of cards which were discovered in
+Edinburgh, in 1821, pasted up in a book of household accounts, one of
+its leaves bearing the date of 1562; and it would be no great stretch of
+fancy to believe that they were taken to Edinburgh by some follower of
+Mary Queen of Scots on her return to Scotland a year before this date.
+These cards are of Flemish make; on one of them is the name "Jehan
+Henault," who was a card-maker in Antwerp in 1543, and in passing we may
+remark that at this period there was a considerable trade between London
+and France in playing cards of Flemish manufacture. Old playing cards
+may be looked for in most unlikely places; a few years ago two nearly
+complete packs were found wedged in an old cross-bow, for the purpose of
+securing the bow where it had worked loose in the head; they were of
+sixteenth century manufacture, and had doubtless been the means of
+relieving the tedium of many a weary watch or waiting, in field or
+fortress, before they found their resting-place of a couple of centuries
+in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> obsolete missive weapon where they were discovered.</p>
+
+<p>We find on many cards some attempts at portraiture. Thus we have in Fig.
+5 Clovis as the King of Clubs, but depicted in a costume of the time of
+Henry IV. of France, the card itself being of that period. This, as well
+as Fig. 4, is from a pack of fifty-two "Numeral" cards, printed from
+wood-block and stencilled in colour.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 198px;">
+<img src="images/image081-1.jpg" width="198" height="450" alt="FIG. 6." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 6.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Returning to "Tarots," we have in Fig. 6 (Le Fou) one of the cards
+designed by Mitelli about 1680, it is said to the order of a member of
+the Bentivoglio family (parts of whose armorial bearings are to be found
+on many of the cards), for the "Tarrocchini di Bologna," a special form
+of the game of Tarot, a series of spirited designs of vigorous and
+careful drawing, and the most artistically valuable of any of the Tarots
+with which we are acquainted. In them not only the Tarot series but the
+ordinary suits display a quaint conception and generally elegant design.</p>
+
+<p>It is curious to note that in the eleven packs or parts of packs of
+these Bolognese cards which we have met with in various parts of Europe
+there is not any uniformity of manufacture, but while the designs are
+the same and evidently produced from the same copper plates, the making
+of them into cards for the purpose of play bears indication of what
+might be termed a "domestic" manufacture. For some time the game was
+interdicted in Bologna, and it is possible that this may have induced a
+surreptitious production and illicit sale of the cards. Fortunately, the
+interdict did not prevent the preservation to us of this interesting
+series.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 257px;">
+<img src="images/image081-2.jpg" width="257" height="400" alt="FIG. 7." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 7.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>At different periods between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, but
+notably in the two earlier of them, card "suits" have been used other
+than the familiar ones of Hearts, Spades, Clubs, and Diamonds, and much
+ingenuity and imagination have been exercised upon them. Among the most
+beautiful of such cards we take the set designed and engraved by Virgil
+Solis, the celebrated Nuremberg artist and engraver, in which the suit
+signs are Lions, Peacocks, Monkeys, and Parroquets. In Fig. 7 we have
+the Ace of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> Peacocks. The aces are lettered with the distinctive
+suit-titles of the German cards, viz., "Grun," "Eicheln," "Schellen,"
+and "Herzen." The pack consists of fifty-two, divided into four suits of
+thirteen cards each; the date of these cards is between 1535 and 1560,
+and they are an important and valuable item in the artistic history of
+playing cards.</p>
+
+<p>Another example of this variation in the suit signs, as well as of a
+variation from the ordinary rectangular form, is to be found in the
+round card (Fig. 8), of a somewhat earlier date than the preceding,
+where the suits are Hares, Parrots, Pinks, and Columbines, and which
+when complete make also a pack of fifty-two, the value of the cards
+following the sequence of King, Queen, and Knave being indicated by the
+Arabic numeral at the base of and the Roman figure at the top of each,
+the card shown being the Six of Hares.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 375px;">
+<img src="images/image082-1.jpg" width="375" height="400" alt="FIG. 8" title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 8</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In both of them there is a great decorative facility and clever
+adaptation to the form of the card. To indicate the coincidence of idea,
+in the next (Fig. 9) we have a round card from India&mdash;one of the "Coate"
+cards of a pack, or more properly series, of 120 cards. The material
+used in their manufacture is matted vegetable fibre coated with lacquer
+and painted by hand. Most of the playing cards of Persia are also round,
+and are similarly decorated by the same means. About a dozen years ago
+round playing cards were patented in America as a novelty, in ignorance
+of the fact that cards of that shape had probably been in common use in
+the East, centuries before the discovery of that great and inventive
+country!</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 414px;">
+<img src="images/image082-2.jpg" width="414" height="400" alt="FIG. 9." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 9.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 257px;">
+<img src="images/image082-3.jpg" width="257" height="400" alt="FIG. 10." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 10.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>As an illustration (Fig. 10) of the suit signs of Southern Europe, we
+take a card from a Portuguese pack of 1610, the "Cavalier de B&acirc;tons"
+(Clubs); the other suit signs are Swords, Coins, and Cups. The anatomy
+of the charger and the self-satisfied aspect of the Cavalier are
+striking; and as to the former, we are reminded of the bizarre examples
+of hippic adornment which,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> on a summer Bank Holiday, may be seen on the
+road to Epping Forest.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 269px;">
+<img src="images/image083-1.jpg" width="269" height="450" alt="FIG. 11." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 11.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Among the secondary uses to which playing cards have been applied, we
+find them as political weapons. Among such cards are those which were
+produced to commemorate what is historically known as the "Titus Oates
+Plot" in 1678, one of the most prominent incidents being the murder of
+Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, who is here shown (Fig. 11), carried on a horse,
+the day after his murder, to Primrose Hill, where the body was put into
+a ditch, the carrying on the horse and the discovery in the ditch being
+shown as coincident. They were produced, probably, as one of the means
+of inflaming the public mind against the Roman Catholics, which led to
+the execution, among others, of the Viscount Stafford in 1680. As
+illustration of costume and of stirring incident, these cards are, apart
+from their intention, an admirable and interesting series, and are worth
+study from their historic and artistic aspects.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 253px;">
+<img src="images/image083-2.jpg" width="253" height="400" alt="FIG. 12." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 12.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 277px;">
+<img src="images/image083-3.jpg" width="277" height="450" alt="FIG. 13." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 13.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 244px;">
+<img src="images/image084-2.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="FIG. 15." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 15.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We come now to playing cards designed as methods of education, of which
+a considerable number have been produced&mdash;and which cover the widest
+possible range&mdash;from cookery to astrology! In the middle and latter half
+of the seventeenth century, England, France and Germany abounded in
+examples, the most attractive being the series of "Jeux Historiques,"
+invented by Desmarests, a member of the French Academy acting under the
+instructions of Cardinal Mazarin&mdash;as aids to the education of the boy
+King, Louis XIV. In Figs. 12, 13, 14, and 15 are given examples from the
+four packs so designed, and they afford a good instance of the primary
+use of cards being subordinated to the educational. The first of these
+is the "Jeu de Fables," with representations and short notices of the
+heroes and heroines of classic history, the four Kings being Jupiter,
+Neptune, Pluto, and Saturn. The second is the "Jeu de Geographie," the
+four suits being formed by the division of the world into four quarters,
+each having its distinctive group of thirteen designs, with brief
+geographical descriptions; Great Britain being shown as the Eight of
+Hearts. If designed by an Englishman, it would surely have been as Queen
+of that suit that our country would have appeared. We have then the "Jeu
+de Rois de France," intended to teach the history and succession of the
+Kings of France, whom we find depicted in their numeric order, from
+Pharamond to Louis XIV., with the length of their reigns and short
+biographies.</p>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 255px;">
+<img src="images/image084-1.jpg" width="255" height="400" alt="FIG. 14." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIG. 14.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The third and fourth of these packs are singular in consisting in the
+one case of all Kings, and the other of all Queens, in the "Jeu de
+Reynes Renomm&eacute;es," the famous Queens of history, from the Queen of Sheba
+downward, furnishing the design, and who are classified under the
+descriptions of Good, Wise, Holy, Clever, Brave, Happy, Cruel,
+Licentious, Capricious, and Unfortunate; our Queen Elizabeth being
+placed as "clever," and Mary Stuart as "unfortunate." They are beautiful
+examples of design and workmanship, and are the work of the Florentine
+artist-engraver, Stefano de la Bella.</p>
+
+<h4>(<i>To be continued.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> A "block book," with its illustrations and text cut on a
+wood block, and which is regarded as the immediate precursor of the
+type-printed book.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;">
+<img src="images/image085.jpg" width="650" height="527" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><a name="THE_COURTSHIP_OF_HALIL" id="THE_COURTSHIP_OF_HALIL"></a></p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">BY A. E. BURN.</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>When I went out to Egypt some years ago, I determined to devote myself
+to the study of Arabic, and not to rest till I could speak and write it
+like an educated native. This rash resolve, however, was made in
+ignorance of the sublime difficulties of this language, and after
+plodding at it with great vigour for a year, and acquiring some facility
+in speaking it, and the ability to read a sentence so as to sometimes
+get a faint glimpse into the meaning hidden behind the hieroglyphs which
+the Arabs call letters, I came to the conclusion that I had better rest
+on my laurels.</p>
+
+<p>While my enthusiasm lasted I used to seize every possible opportunity of
+talking Arabic with any native I came across, and great was my disgust
+when, as sometimes happened, an Arab would persist in airing his English
+on me. As a rule, however, they were rather flattered by my evident
+desire to know their tongue, and some of the shopkeepers with whom I
+dealt would take a pleasure in teaching me new phrases.</p>
+
+<p>One of these, by name Halil, who sold silks, shawls, etc., etc., and
+whose respect I had gained by some considerable purchases for friends in
+England, became quite intimate with me, and related to me a considerable
+portion of his own history and that of his family, and it was from him
+that I heard the following story of his courtship, which is not quite so
+prosaic and business-like as such affairs usually are in Mohammedan
+countries. His shop was in the silk bazaar at Cairo, and what first led
+to the subject was a sentence in Arabic written over it, which I had
+puzzled my brains in trying to read for some time before I at last
+managed to translate it. It ran as follows: "Long is the hair of woman,
+and long also is her understanding." This motto rather surprised me, as
+the Arabs have not, as a rule, that high opinion of the fair sex's
+understanding which it expressed, and I thought I could see the reason
+for a certain reluctance to assist me in translating it in the usually
+obliging Halil. After some evasive answers to my questions he took me
+into his confidence, and told me the following story in explanation of
+it:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have already told you, Effendi, that my father died when I was
+eighteen years old, and that, being the only son, I became proprietor of
+this shop and the head of our household.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not married, and had no wish to be, as I looked upon women with
+aversion and contempt, and was angry with my mother when she wished to
+get me a wife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> I was encouraged in these ideas by an old man named
+Mahran Effendi, who had been a great friend of my father, and who still
+came in the evening to my house to smoke a nargileh with me. He had two
+wives, who gave him much trouble with their quarrels, and he used to say
+that women were created as a punishment for the sins of men, and to
+prevent them from being so much attached to this world as to be
+unwilling to leave it even for the joys of paradise, which, he said,
+would certainly be the case if there were no women. He repeated to me a
+sentence which he said was out of the Koran, though I have not seen it
+there myself. It was, 'Long is the hair of woman, but short is her
+understanding.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was much struck with this, and repeated it to my mother with great
+pleasure, who was not so much pleased with it as I was. Indeed, she was
+quite angry, and said that Mahran was an old donkey, and the son of a
+donkey. I, however, had a higher opinion of the wisdom of my old friend,
+and, acting upon his advice, I determined to adopt this as my motto, and
+to paint it over my shop instead of the proverb which had been put there
+by my father. My motto made quite a stir in the bazaar for the first few
+days, and caused a good deal of amusement amongst the other shopkeepers
+and the passers-by. I have no doubt it was repeated in many of the
+harems also, for some of the women, who may have been teased about it by
+their husbands, reviled me as they passed.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image086.jpg" width="400" height="450" alt="&quot;SHE GAVE ME A GLANCE OUT OF HER DARK EYES.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SHE GAVE ME A GLANCE OUT OF HER DARK EYES.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"One day, not long after this, two women entered my shop and asked to be
+shown some of my finest silks; so I took them into the inner part, where
+I keep the most costly of my goods. While they were examining them I
+noticed that one of them had eyes that shone like stars, and which she
+kept fixed on me even while she laughed and chatted with her companion.
+Then, in stooping to pick up one of the shawls, her veil by some means
+became detached and fell to the ground, and I saw the face of what I
+thought to be surely the loveliest houri ever seen by mortal man. She
+gave a little scream and called to her companion, who seemed to be her
+servant, to assist her to refasten it, but at the same time gave me a
+smile and a glance out of her dark eyes, which swallowed up all my
+dislike to women as the light of a taper is swallowed up in that of the
+noonday sun. I was so confused by the new emotions which possessed my
+soul, that when they departed, saying they would come again shortly to
+decide about the silk, I could not utter a word to detain them. Nay, by
+the beard of the Prophet, I could do nothing but gaze at the houri till
+she was out of my sight. For three long days I waited in vain for their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+return. At last my heart began to be sick within me, and I feared I
+should never again behold the lovely maiden who had bewitched my soul,
+when on the fourth day I saw two females approaching, and I recognised
+that the slighter of the two was she. I had provided myself with several
+gold pieces, and was ready to give them all, if necessary, to make the
+attendant my friend. As soon as they had entered, and I had brought
+forth my silks, I drew this woman aside, and slipping one of the gold
+pieces into her hand, disclosed to her my passion for her mistress, and
+begged her to tell me who she was. The woman seemed inclined to laugh at
+first, but when I had finished became grave and said in a low voice, 'My
+young mistress looks upon you with favour; but, alas! her father, the
+Sheikh Abdu Hassan, is so mean that he cannot bear the thought of his
+daughter marrying, on account of the dowry he would be expected to give
+with her, and he will not even allow her to see any visitors, lest her
+beauty should become known, and he tells all who ask for her that she is
+very ugly and ill-tempered, so no one will marry her on that account;
+but if you love Khadijah, my mistress, go to the Sheikh and say that you
+will take her without any dowry, and then he will, perhaps, be tempted
+to give her to you.'</p>
+
+<p>"When she had told me this, she went back to her mistress, and they both
+hastily departed.</p>
+
+<p>"I shut my shop an hour earlier that day, and, on arriving home, told my
+mother all that had happened. She was very much astonished, and could
+not understand why, after refusing to have a wife for so long, I was now
+so anxious to have one without a dowry. She tried to dissuade me, but I
+paid no heed to her words, and went that same evening to the Sheikh,
+whom I fortunately found alone. I told him who I was and what my
+possessions were, and that I wanted a wife; but, as I had no one to
+speak for me&mdash;my father being dead&mdash;I had come myself to ask him for his
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"He listened quietly, with his eyes fixed on my face, and when I had
+finished, said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'Alas! my son, the girl Khadijah is ugly, and has the temper of a
+mule.'</p>
+
+<p>"'For these things, O Sheikh,' I replied, 'I care not.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You think you will get a heavy dowry with her,' he said, coldly; 'it
+is for that you have come.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I swear by the holy Prophet,' I cried, 'that I want the girl and not
+the money. Nay, I will even take her without a single piastre, to prove
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>"At these words his eye brightened, and on my promising that no one
+should know that I was not to receive a dowry with her, he embraced me,
+saying, 'She is yours, my son,' and the matter was settled.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 335px;">
+<img src="images/image087.jpg" width="335" height="450" alt="&quot;A SHARP-FACED, UGLY WOMAN&quot;." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A SHARP-FACED, UGLY WOMAN&quot;.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Of course, I did not see my bride till we were married, which we were
+in seven days. What was my horror when, after the ceremonies were over
+and my wife unveiled, I beheld, instead of the lovely girl who had come
+to my shop, a sharp-faced, ugly woman with a sour expression. I was dumb
+with amazement; but, by a great effort, I controlled my temper, and
+pretending to seem satisfied with my bargain, inwardly resolved to find
+out why I had thus been duped. My wife soon showed her temper, and
+quarrelled with my mother the very first day. She seemed to think she
+had married beneath her, and to show her superiority, began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> to
+ill-treat the servants, and usurped my mother's place in the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Some days after my wedding I was in my shop as usual, when the two
+women appeared as before. I immediately beckoned them to follow me into
+the inner part. As soon as we were there I turned to the false Khadijah,
+and almost choking with anger I asked her why she had brought this curse
+upon my life.</p>
+
+<p>"'What have I ever done to you that you should make such a day of pitch
+for me?' I cried.</p>
+
+<p>"She laughed heartily, and her old servant followed her example. I was
+just about to burst forth into a torrent of invectives when she threw
+off her veil and, laying her hand on my arm, said softly, 'I have done
+this, O Halil, to show you that the motto over your shop is not true,
+and that the understanding of woman is as long as her hair. I will show
+you a way by which you can divorce your wife without offending her
+father, but on one condition only.'</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;">
+<img src="images/image088.jpg" width="229" height="450" alt="&quot;CHANGE THE MOTTO OVER YOUR SHOP.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;CHANGE THE MOTTO OVER YOUR SHOP.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"'It is granted,' I cried, 'if I come freely out of this.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Change, then, the motto over your shop, and put instead, "Long is the
+hair of woman, and long also is her understanding,"' she said, almost
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"'But I shall have the whole bazaar laughing at me,' I cried, aghast at
+this proposal. 'I will take it away and restore my father's proverb if
+you will help me, and will give you as much jewellery as you shall ask,
+but I cannot change the motto to what you say.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Jewellery is nothing to me,' she said, scornfully. 'Change the motto
+to what I have said, or keep your wife, I care not which.' Upon this she
+veiled herself and was going away, but I detained her and said, 'O
+maiden, you have asked me a very hard thing; but I will do even this if
+you will rid me of this woman, and tell me in truth who you are, so that
+I may have you for myself.'</p>
+
+<p>"She promised she would, and made me swear by the sacred window of the
+Prophet that I would change the motto to her liking the day after I
+should be married to her. She then went away, saying she had stayed too
+long already, but that she would send her servant the next day, who
+would tell me her plan.</p>
+
+<p>"On my return home that evening my mother met me with many complaints of
+the behaviour of my wife, who had abused her during my absence, and she
+ended by bewailing that I had not let her choose a wife for me.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day the servant appeared, and after telling me who her
+mistress really was, thus unfolded her plan:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'To-morrow evening you must meet your father-in-law at the coffee-house
+he frequents, and in the meantime collect some of the poorest and lowest
+men you can find, and promise them a good backsheesh if they will obey
+the orders you will give them, which are these: While you are at the
+coffee-house the oldest man of them must come in and sit by your side,
+and call you his dear nephew, and say he hears that you have made a rich
+marriage, and that he hopes you are not going to slight your own
+relations in consequence. The other men must follow his example, and say
+much the same thing, but call you cousin, brother-in-law, or friend.</p>
+
+<p>"'The old Sheikh, who is very proud of his family, will want you to
+divorce his daughter at once, but you must pretend you are too satisfied
+with her to do that, and from threats he will come to entreaties, and
+will at last want to bribe you. Not till then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> must you yield, and when
+you do, it must be with apparent reluctance.'</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image089.jpg" width="500" height="344" alt="&quot;I SAW DISGUST AND DISMAY RISE IN ABDU HASSAN&#39;S FACE.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I SAW DISGUST AND DISMAY RISE IN ABDU HASSAN&#39;S FACE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I was overjoyed at this plan, and bestowed one of my brightest shawls
+on Fatima, who went away promising to come soon again and see how I had
+got on. I told my mother of the plan, which comforted her a good deal,
+and on the next evening I carried it out. I saw disgust and dismay rise
+in Abdu Hassan's face when we were at the caf&eacute; and the first dirty old
+beggar came up to me and addressed me as his nephew, which became
+mingled with rage when another ragged fellow came up to congratulate his
+cousin, as he called me; but when two more supposed cousins had joined
+us, even dirtier than the others, he could contain his feelings no
+longer, and turning to me, cried: 'Is it true, O Halil, that these sons
+of dogs are indeed your relations?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, O Sheikh,' I said, humbly. 'Be not displeased with me; a man must
+not disown the brother of his father, or the sons of his father's
+sister, even though they be poor.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Poor!' he roared. 'Poor! They are not only poor, but they are sons of
+pigs. Give me back my daughter. She shall not stay with you to be the
+mother of dogs!'</p>
+
+<p>"'You cannot take her away unless I divorce her,' I replied, calmly,
+'and that I will not do, for I love the girl.'</p>
+
+<p>"At this he began to entreat me, offering me at first four purses of
+silver, and at last offered me the same number of purses filled with
+gold, to which I consented, with apparent reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>"He made me divorce her that very evening, for divorce, as you know,
+Effendi, is very easy with us; and a week afterwards I altered the motto
+over my shop door to what it now is, for Ayesha (that was her true name)
+was mine."</p>
+
+<p>As Halil finished his story, I became aware that he had another listener
+in the shape of a little urchin, clad in a brightly coloured gown, which
+reached to the ground, and who wore, perched on his closely-shaven head,
+a small tarboosh. He had appeared from some corner of the shop, and now
+sidled up to Halil, his bright black eyes fixed on my face.</p>
+
+<p>"See, Effendi," said Halil, with a proud smile, "this is the eldest of
+my five boys."</p>
+
+<p>After I had rejoiced the eldest son's heart with a small "backsheesh," I
+took leave of Halil with many friendly salutations, and a pressing
+invitation on his part to come again soon.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="From_Behind_the_Speakers_Chair" id="From_Behind_the_Speakers_Chair"></a><i>From Behind the Speaker's Chair.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(VIEWED BY HENRY W. LUCY.)</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The first of what, it is hoped, will be a long series of
+articles, descriptive of the House of Commons, is here
+appended. The author is Mr. Henry Lucy, who has spent nearly a
+quarter of a century in the Press Gallery of the House, and
+who, in addition to much other successful journalistic work,
+has, in the character of "Toby, M.P.," supplied to our
+distinguished contemporary, "Punch" some of its most amusing
+sketches. "From Behind the Speaker's Chair" will be continued,
+and will, we believe, be looked forward to by our readers,
+month by month, with constant interest.</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">editor</span>.]</p></div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 324px;">
+<img src="images/image090-1.jpg" width="324" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Eheu fugaces! It is just twenty years, marked by the opening Session,
+since I first had the opportunity of viewing the House of Commons from a
+coign of 'vantage behind the Speaker's Chair. It is more than twenty
+years since I looked on the place with opportunity for closely studying
+it. But, as I am reminded by an inscription in an old rare copy of
+"Dod," it was in February, 1873, that I was installed in the Press
+Gallery in charge of the Parliamentary business of a great daily paper.</p>
+
+<p>I first saw the House in circumstances that might well have led me to
+the Clock Tower. It was in the spring of 1869. I was passing through
+London, on my way to Paris, where I had proposed to myself to live for a
+year, master the language, and proceed thence to other capitals of
+Europe, learn their tongues, and return to storm the journalistic
+citadel in London, armed with polyglot accomplishments. Even then I had
+a strong drawing towards the House of Commons, but desired to see it,
+not as the ordinary stranger beheld it from the gallery facing the
+Chair, but from the Press Gallery itself.</p>
+
+<p>In those days the adventure was far more difficult than in existing
+circumstances. The country Press was not represented save vicariously in
+the form of a rare London correspondent, who wrote a weekly letter for
+some phenomenally enterprising county paper. The aggregate of the London
+staffs was far smaller than at present, and was, it struck me at the
+time, composed almost exclusively of elderly gentlemen. The chances of
+detection of an unauthorized stranger (being, moreover, a beardless
+youth) were accordingly increased. But I was determined to see the House
+from behind the Speaker's Chair, and was happy in the possession of a
+friend as reckless as myself. He was on the staff of a morning journal,
+and, though not a gallery man, knew most of the confraternity.</p>
+
+<p>One night he took me down to the gallery and endeavoured to induce more
+than one of the old stagers to pilot me in. They stared aghast at the
+proposal, and walked hurriedly away. We were permitted to stand at the
+glass door giving entrance to the gallery and peer upon the House, which
+struck me as being very empty. The door swung easily to and fro as the
+men passed in and out, taking their turn. The temptation proved
+irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll go in," I said.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;">
+<img src="images/image090-2.jpg" width="358" height="400" alt="OLD STAGERS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">OLD STAGERS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Very well," dear old Walter hoarsely whispered. "Turn sharp to the
+right, sit down on a back bench, and I daresay no one will notice you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the bench, presumably guarding the doorway, sat a
+portly gentleman in evening dress, with a gold badge slung across his
+abundant shirt front. He was fast asleep, and I passed along the bench,
+sitting down midway. At that time there were no desks in front of these
+back benches, which were tenantless. I suppose my heart beat
+tumultuously, but I sat there with apparent composure. At length I had
+reached the House of Commons, and eagerly gazed upon it, feeling like
+some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or like stout Cortez when, with eagle eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stared at the Pacific.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 296px;">
+<img src="images/image091-1.jpg" width="296" height="325" alt="Fast asleep." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Fast asleep.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>I don't know how long I sat there; probably not five minutes, certainly
+long enough to be struck with the smallness of the chamber, the
+commonplace appearance of the personages forming the historic assembly,
+and the perfect manner in which they dissembled their interest in
+current proceedings. Then I became conscious of a movement in the sunken
+boxes before me, where the reporters, taking their turn, sat. Heads were
+turned and whispered consultations took place. Someone woke up the
+portly gentleman, whom through many later years I knew as Steele, the
+chief janitor of the Press Gallery.</p>
+
+<p>In time, then far off, he became the possessor of a cottage and garden
+in Kent, whither, wearied with his legislative labours, he used to
+retire from Saturday to Monday.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 161px;">
+<img src="images/image091-2.jpg" width="161" height="200" alt="Roses." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Roses.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In summer-time he always brought me two or three roses, which he put in
+my hand with an awkward sort of flap, as if they were a slice of bacon
+he was depositing on a counter. That was his way of intimating that it
+was of no consequence. He noticed that I always comforted myself through
+long debates and all-night sittings with a handful of flowers set in a
+little glass on my desk, which was generally upset in the course of the
+evening by some unsympathetic reporter borrowing my box during a
+temporary absence, and clumsily turning round in the circumscribed
+space.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 210px;">
+<img src="images/image091-3.jpg" width="210" height="402" alt="&quot;Get out!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Get out!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But that is another story. It was no flowers that Steele now brought me,
+but stern peremptory command to "get out!" He was unusually irate, first
+at having been wakened out of his sleep, and secondly at having in
+probably unique circumstances been caught napping at the post of duty. I
+went forth disconsolate, and there was a great hubbub in the dark little
+room outside. My friend and co-conspirator fled in affright when he saw
+me actually enter the gallery. Now he dropped in in a casual way, and
+stood at the edge of the crowd whilst Steele took down my name and
+address, and told me I should "hear from the Serjeant-at-Arms." I don't
+know whether that potentate ever communicated with me. I fancy Steele,
+recognising his own somewhat imperilled position, was not anxious to
+pursue the matter. Anyhow, I never heard from the Serjeant-at-Arms.
+Walter and I agreed, as a matter of precaution, that I had better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+hasten my departure for Paris, and two days later the English Channel
+rolled between me and the Clock Tower.</p>
+
+<p>Next time I entered the Press Gallery it was as the accredited
+representative of the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>. I came over from Paris to
+spend Christmas at home, and never went back to complete that
+continental tour in search of knowledge, which I fancy had been
+suggested by Goldsmith's trip with his flute. It happened that in the
+early days of 1870, the proprietor of the <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> began the
+first of the series of chequered changes in the history of the journal,
+by starting it as a morning paper. I had been an occasional contributor
+in a humble way to the evening edition, and thought I might have a
+chance of an appointment on the staff of the new morning paper.</p>
+
+<p>Mentioning this to my friend Walter, he undertook to see it through,
+just as he had fallen in with the even more audacious proposal to enter
+the Press Gallery. I remember we were not far off Northumberland Street
+when the subject was broached, and might easily have walked there. But
+Walter could never embark upon enterprises of this kind unless he went
+in a cab, the driver being incited to go at topmost speed.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 366px;">
+<img src="images/image092.jpg" width="366" height="400" alt="OUTSIDE THE &quot;PALL MALL&quot; OFFICE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">OUTSIDE THE &quot;PALL MALL&quot; OFFICE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He left me in the cab whilst he ran upstairs to the office in
+Northumberland Street&mdash;I saw him going two steps at a time&mdash;and flung
+himself into the office of Mr. Fyffe, an old and highly-esteemed member
+of the <i>Times</i> staff, who had joined Mr. Frederick Greenwood in the
+editorial direction of the new development of the <i>Pall Mall</i>. What
+Walter said to Fyffe I never learned in detail, but subsequently had
+reason to guess he told him he had in the cab downstairs a young fellow
+who was (or would be) one of the wonders of the journalistic world, and
+that the morning edition of the <i>Pall Mall</i> would have no chance unless
+it secured his services.</p>
+
+<p>However it came about; whether Fyffe had some work in hand and was
+anxious to be relieved from the embarrassing presence of his visitor
+bounding all over the room in the enthusiasm of his advocacy; or
+whether, as usually happens with a new paper, choice was limited, I was
+engaged then and there as assistant sub-editor at the salary of four
+guineas a week. I believe the regular average rate of remuneration was
+five guineas. But I was young and inexperienced; and after living in the
+Quartier Latin for nearly a year on fifteenpence a day, cultivating
+French literature on <i>petits noirs</i>, four guineas a week was a
+competency. "<i>Trois de caf&eacute;</i>" is what Daudet in his "<i>Trente ans de
+Paris</i>" calls this sip of nectar. "<i>C'est a dire</i>," he explains, "<i>pour
+trois sous d'un caf&eacute; savoureux balsamique raisonnablement &eacute;dulcor&eacute;</i>."
+But Daudet must have frequented aristocratic quarters. At our <i>cr&egrave;merie</i>
+we never paid more than two sous, and, bent on attaining luxury, we
+demanded "<i>un petit noir</i>."</p>
+
+<p>When the paper started, Mr. Fyffe did the Parliamentary summary, of
+which the <i>Pall Mall</i> made a feature, placing it on the leader page. One
+afternoon, after I had been on the staff for some six weeks, I looked in
+at the office, and found it in a state of consternation. Fyffe had been
+suddenly taken ill, and it was impossible for him to go down to the
+House to do the summary. Mr. Greenwood sent for me and asked me to take
+his place, for that night at least. To go down to the House of Commons
+and take an ordinary "turn" of reporting for the first time is, I
+suppose, a trying thing. To be bundled off at an hour's notice to fill
+the place of one of the most eminent Parliamentary writers of the day,
+and to supply a leading article on a subject of the surroundings of
+which one was absolutely ignorant, might seem appalling. It all came
+very naturally to me. I did my best in the strange, somewhat
+bewildering, circumstances, and as long as the morning edition of the
+<i>Pall Mall</i> lasted, I continued to write its summary. Fyffe came round
+again in a week; but he never more took up the summary, leaving it in my
+hands, with many words of kind encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>It was in October, 1872, I joined the staff of the <i>Daily News</i>, having,
+under Mr. Robinson's watchful eye, gone through a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> period of probation
+as contributor of occasional articles descriptive of current events. I
+might, in the ordinary course of events, have continued in that line, as
+my friend and colleague Senior has done these twenty years, with honour
+to himself and credit to the paper. But here, again, chance befell and
+irresistibly led me back to the Press Gallery. In this very year a
+change took place in a long-standing management of the <i>Daily News</i>
+Parliamentary corps and the writing of its summary, and Mr. Robinson
+designated me as successor of the gentleman who retired. It was a
+curious and, in some respects, a delicate position, seeing that I was,
+compared with some members of the staff, a mere chicken in point of age.
+There were three who had been on the paper since it started, any one of
+whom might, had Fortune favoured me in that direction, have been my
+grandfather. But we got along admirably, they easing my path with kindly
+counsel and the friendliest consideration.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 142px;">
+<img src="images/image093-1.jpg" width="142" height="200" alt="MR. ROBINSON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">MR. ROBINSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/image093-2.jpg" width="400" height="353" alt="THREE OLD MEN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THREE OLD MEN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was different with some of the old hands on the other corps, who
+bitterly resented the intrusion. I am not quite sure whether the two or
+three who still survive have got over it yet. Certainly old "Charlie"
+Ross, then and for some years after manager of the <i>Times</i> staff,
+carried the feeling to his honoured grave. After I had sat next but one
+to him in the gallery for many Sessions he used, on encountering me in
+the passage, to greet me with a startled expression, as if I were once
+more an intruder, and would walk back to the outer doorkeeper (whom he
+autocratically called Smeeth, because his name was Wright) to ask,
+"Who's that?"</p>
+
+<p>Old Ross's personal affront in this matter probably dated back to the
+Session of 1872, when I took an occasional turn for a friend who was a
+member of his staff. This was young Latimer, son of the proprietor of
+the <i>Western Daily Mercury</i>, who had been called to the Bar and
+occasionally got a brief on the Western Circuit. When he went out of
+town I became his substitute in respect of his Parliamentary duties. It
+was Mr. Ross's custom of an afternoon to seat himself on the bench in
+the ante-chamber of the Press Gallery, armed with a copy of the <i>Times</i>
+report of the day, with the "turns" all marked with the name of the man
+who had written them. He genially spent the morning in reading the
+prodigious collocation in search of errors. When found, these were made
+a note of, the guilty person was sent for and had a more or less
+pleasant quarter of an hour. This was called being "on the gridiron."</p>
+
+<p>I had only one experience of the process. Seated one day by command
+beside this terrible old gentleman, he produced the marked passage
+containing one of my turns, and pointing to the name, Mr. Ward Hunt,
+fixed a glowering eye on me and said, with his slow intonation:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who is 'Mr. Ward Hunt'?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is the member for North Northamptonshire," I timidly replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" he said, witheringly, "that's whom you mean. 'Ward Hunt'! Let me
+tell you, sir, Ward Hunt may do very well for the penny papers, but in
+the <i>Times</i> report we write 'Mr. W. Hunt.'"</p>
+
+<p>I don't know why this should have been, since the burly gentleman, who
+in the next Parliament was Chancellor of the Exchequer, was invariably
+called by his full style. But then, as I have said, nobody knew why old
+"Charlie" Ross dubbed Wright Smith, and pronounced it Smeeth.</p>
+
+<p>Gentlemen of the Press Gallery who now live at Westminster at ease, with
+their library, their smoking-room, their choice of writing-out rooms,
+their admirably-appointed and self-administered commissariat department,
+little know the state of things that existed twenty years ago. Committee
+Room No. 18 had then recently been appointed to their use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> as a
+writing-room, providing it were not, when the House met, still in the
+occupation of a Committee. But the writing-out rooms originally
+apportioned, and then still in constant use, were two dark,
+ill-ventilated dens which served as ante-chambers from the Press
+Gallery. The <i>Times</i> staff appropriated the room to the right, still
+occupied by their telephonic service; the corresponding room to the left
+being for general use. The room at the top of the stairs&mdash;where Wright
+still presides and entrances the telegraph messengers with sententious
+remarks on political, social, and philosophic affairs&mdash;was also used for
+writing-out purposes, if a man could find a corner at the table at which
+to sit.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 329px;">
+<img src="images/image094-1.jpg" width="329" height="400" alt="SMEETH." title="" />
+<span class="caption">SMEETH.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>This was difficult, since this closet, not bigger than a boot-room in an
+ordinary household, was also sole dining-room attached to the Press
+Gallery. In addition to his official duties at the door, Wright, in his
+private capacity, added those of purveyor. Every Monday he brought down
+(in two red cotton pocket-handkerchiefs, it was profanely said) a round
+of cold boiled beef and a chunk of boiled ham; the latter tending, if
+memory serves, rather towards the shank end. This, with bread, cheese,
+and bottled beer, was the sole provision for the sustenance of the sixty
+or seventy gentlemen who then composed the corps of the Press Gallery.
+At that time it was more widely the practice to go out to dinner or
+supper. But for those whose duties kept them in close attendance on the
+gallery there was nothing for it but cold beef, cold ham, or an
+amalgamation carefully doled forth. Many a night, seated at the little
+table that still remains in this outer room, I have watched Wright
+prepare my sumptuous repast. He was even then short-sighted, and to this
+day I have vivid recollection of the concern with which I saw his nose
+approach to dangerous contiguity of the round of beef as he leaned over
+it to cut a slice with judicious thinness.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 259px;">
+<img src="images/image094-2.jpg" width="259" height="350" alt="CUTTING THE BEEF." title="" />
+<span class="caption">CUTTING THE BEEF.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 188px;">
+<img src="images/image094-3.jpg" width="188" height="350" alt="LORD CHARLES RUSSELL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">LORD CHARLES RUSSELL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even this accommodation was regarded askance by the constitutional
+authorities of the House, still accustomed to regard the Press as an
+intruder happily subject, under the beneficent regulations of the Stuart
+days, to instant expulsion if any member pleased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> to take note of the
+presence of its representatives. In 1867, a Committee sat to consider
+the general arrangements of the House. The reporters, greatly daring,
+took the opportunity of laying before it a statement of their
+grievances, and asked for fuller convenience for carrying on their work.
+Lord Charles Russell, then Serjeant-at-Arms, was, very properly,
+astonished at their unreasonableness, and plaintively deplored the times
+when, as he put it, reporters seemed to require only the necessaries of
+life, not presuming to lift their eyes to its luxuries.</p>
+
+<p>"They used, I am told," Lord Charles added, "to have just a glass of
+water and biscuits, or anything of that sort. Now they have their tea at
+the back of the gallery."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 337px;">
+<img src="images/image095.jpg" width="337" height="350" alt="MR. DAVID PLUNKET." title="" />
+<span class="caption">MR. DAVID PLUNKET.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Oliver Twist asking for more scarcely reached the height of the audacity
+of these reporters in 1867. Like Mr. Bumble, the Serjeant-at-Arms of the
+day literally gasped in dismayed astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>All this is changed. Thanks to the courtesy and reasonableness of
+successive First Commissioners of Works, of whom Mr. David Plunket was
+not the least forward in doing good, the arrangements in connection with
+the Press Gallery of to-day leave nothing to be desired.</p>
+
+<p>Of the changes that have taken place in the House itself, and of the
+ghosts that flit about the benches where twenty years ago they sat in
+flesh and bone, I shall have something to say next month.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>[IMPORTANT NOTICE.&mdash;<i>Companion to the <span class="smcap">Strand Magazine</span>. Now Selling. To
+be obtained of all Booksellers and Newsagents. <span class="smcap">The Picture Magazine</span>,
+Price Sixpence, Monthly. This new publication, issued from the offices
+of "The Strand," contains nothing but pictures, and forms an Art
+Magazine for the General Public. Features:&mdash;Fine Art Portraits, Curious
+Pictures, Humorous Pictures, Pictures of Places, Pictures for Children,
+etc., etc.</i>]</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="A_Childs_Tear" id="A_Childs_Tear"></a><i>A Child's Tear.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image096.jpg" width="500" height="353" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Dramatist's Story.</span></h4>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">From the French Of Edouard Lemoine.</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>In a Parisian green-room a new performer was complaining of nervousness.
+From some of her companions she received encouragement, but the majority
+expressed themselves after this fashion: "Such tremors are incurable. As
+nature has formed us, bold or timid, cold or ardent, grave or gay, so we
+must remain. Whoever saw an ambitious man cured of his ambition, or a
+miser of his avarice?"</p>
+
+<p>Some members of the company objected to the fatalism of these
+observations, and one said: "If you ask for a converted miser, I can
+show you one. Here he is! <i>I</i> am one."</p>
+
+<p>The man who said this was a popular dramatist, noted for generosity. His
+statement was received with ejaculations of "Nonsense!" "Impossible!"
+"Do you expect us to believe that?" "Indeed," answered he, quite
+seriously, "I speak the truth. I <i>was</i> a miser, although now, I trust, I
+am such no longer. If you would care to hear it, I will relate to you
+the story of my conversion. It was effected by <i>a child's tear</i>." All
+present immediately crowded around him, and heard from his lips the
+following recital:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"In 1834," said the dramatist, "I had just given to the theatre of the
+Porte-Saint-Martin one of the most successful of my pieces. One day
+about that time two letters reached me by the same post. Both were from
+Marseilles. One was from a theatrical manager, informing me that he
+intended bringing out my new piece there, and that he desired my
+presence at the final rehearsals of the drama. With regard to
+remuneration for my trouble, I might make my own terms in reason. The
+second letter, a very brief one, ran thus: 'Monsieur, the wife and
+daughter of your brother are dying of want. Some hundreds of francs
+would save them, and I doubt not that you will hasten to visit
+connexions so near to you, and make arrangements for their present and
+future comfort.' This letter bore the signature of Dr. Lambert, of
+Marseilles.</p>
+
+<p>"As I have already told you, I was a miser in the worst sense of the
+word. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> physician's letter, far from moving me to pity, merely
+renewed certain angry feelings which had formerly existed in my mind
+towards my sister-in-law. When, some years back, my brave sailor
+brother, who had since been drowned, had written to tell me of his
+approaching marriage with a fisherman's daughter, I, in my miserable
+pride and miserliness, had replied that in marrying a penniless girl, I
+considered that he was doing a most foolish and degrading action. I was
+even wretch enough to advise him to break off the match, if that were
+still possible. My brother, like the honourable man he was, wedded the
+girl he loved. My sister-in-law, who was a high-spirited Breton, never
+forgot my letter, and despised its writer. When she lost her husband,
+and found herself in need, it was long ere she could bring herself to
+apply to me. But the sight of her only child wasting away from sheer
+want, had at last broken down her pride.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image097.jpg" width="500" height="332" alt="&quot;NEAR THE INVALID&#39;S BED STOOD HER LITTLE GIRL.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;NEAR THE INVALID&#39;S BED STOOD HER LITTLE GIRL.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"As the engagement at the Marseilles theatre seemed likely to prove a
+highly profitable one, I, as you might expect, lost no time in accepting
+the offer. I wrote off to the manager at once, and followed my letter in
+person with as little delay as possible. When I arrived at the principal
+hotel of Marseilles, I encountered there, in the act of inquiring for
+me, the doctor who had written on my sister-in-law's behalf. As I had
+not replied to his letter, the good man had said in his simplicity: 'He
+will be here in person,' and had looked for me every day. 'You have lost
+no time, sir,' said he. 'Doubtless you thought, and rightly, that did
+you delay, death might forestall you. Ah! I am indeed glad to see you!'</p>
+
+<p>"I was completely nonplussed. My sole object in visiting Marseilles had
+been the professional one; but how could I avow such a fact to such a
+man? For very shame I could not do so. Accordingly, instead of going
+straight to the theatre, as I had intended doing, I walked away with the
+doctor to my sister-in-law's poor abode.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a most wretched room. Yet the first object in it that caught my
+eye was a very beautiful one. Near the invalid's bed stood her little
+girl, with large black eyes, pretty curly hair, and a face whose
+expression was a pathetic combination of youthful brightness and
+premature sadness. At the first glance I could have taken the lovely
+creature into my arms; then I sternly repressed this alien emotion. The
+doctor, after he had spoken a few words to his patient, beckoned me to
+approach. As I did so the poor woman tried to raise herself. The mixture
+of sadness and pride upon her faded countenance told me plainly how
+great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> an effort it had cost her to appeal to me. Using the strongest
+plea that she knew, she pointed to her child with weak, trembling
+finger, and said in low tones: 'See here! She will soon be alone in the
+world.'</p>
+
+<p>"Even this touching appeal produced (I blush to say it) no effect upon
+my hard heart. I answered coldly: 'Why give way to such fears? You are
+young; you have a good physician; why lose all hope?' A less selfish man
+would have added: 'You have a brother-in-law also, who means to do his
+best for you.' But <i>I</i> said nothing of the sort. My only thought was how
+I might most easily escape from the threatened burden. The little girl,
+who had been gazing at me with wondering eyes, now came to my side, and
+said: 'Will you, please, sit upon the bed? Because you are too tall for
+me to kiss you if you stand.'</p>
+
+<p>"I sat down, and the child climbed upon my knee. Her mother's eyes were
+closed, and her hands were clasped together as if in prayer.
+Unaffrighted by my black looks, the little one threw her arms around my
+neck, and pressed her lips to my cheek. 'Will you be my papa?' said she.
+'I will love you so dearly! You are like papa. He was very good. Are
+<i>you</i> good, too?' My only answer was to unclasp her arms somewhat
+roughly from my neck, and set her down upon the floor. She cast upon me
+a glance of mingled surprise, disappointment, and fear, and a tear
+rolled slowly down her cheek. Her silent sorrow worked the miracle that
+her pretty, fond prattle had failed to effect. As by an enchanter's
+wand, the ugliness of my character, the utter brutality of my conduct
+was revealed to me in that moment. I shuddered in horror and
+self-disgust, and yielded at once to my good angel. I lifted the
+disconsolate little maiden into my arms, and, laying my hand upon her
+head, said: 'Yes, my child, I promise to be a father to you; you shall
+be my dear little daughter, and I will love and take care of you
+always.'</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 291px;">
+<img src="images/image098.jpg" width="291" height="400" alt="&quot;I lifted the little maiden into my arms.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I lifted the little maiden into my arms.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"How happy this promise made my sister-in-law words fail me to describe.
+Her joyful excitement alarmed both the physician and myself. Joy,
+however, seldom kills. 'Brother! brother!' she murmured; 'how my
+thoughts have wronged you! Forgive me!' Her gratitude stung my
+newly-awakened conscience more sharply than any reproach could have
+done. I hastened to change the subject to that of the sick woman's
+removal to a better dwelling. The doctor, with ready kindness, undertook
+the task of house-hunting, for which I, a stranger to the place, was not
+so well qualified.</p>
+
+<p>"He found for us a delightful cottage in the neighbourhood of
+Marseilles. There we three&mdash;my sister-in-law, my niece, and
+myself&mdash;lived for three months. At the end of that time the mother
+passed peacefully away, leaving her child to my care, with full
+confidence in my affection. Marie has been with me ever since. Her joys
+have been my joys, her life has been my life. Do I not owe her much?
+That tear of hers&mdash;a precious pearl gathered by my heart&mdash;has been to it
+what the dewdrop of morn is to the unopened flower&mdash;expanding it for the
+entire day of its existence!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+<h3><i>The Queer Side of Things.</i></h3>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_DWINDLING_HOUR" id="THE_DWINDLING_HOUR"></a>THE DWINDLING HOUR.</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">A story of impression and conviction; being, possibly, a true word
+spoken in jest.</span></h4>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 236px;">
+<img src="images/image099.jpg" width="236" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"In an hour," sang the minstrel to his harp, whose frame was the curved
+black horn of a deer&mdash;"in an hour thy forefather strode from this spot
+whereon we sit to the summit of yon blue hill; and there, as the sinking
+sun would bend to caress his feet (as grovels a vanquished foe), he
+would touch its face with his hand in token of friendliness. 'Twixt
+dawning of day and noon would thy great forefather slay three hundred
+red-eyed wolves&mdash;one hundred shuffling bears!</p>
+
+<p>"In a day did he carve and hew this bowl from the hardest rock, and
+fashion and form it thus; and bore a hole in its base for the water to
+trickle and ooze, and number the hours that sped!"</p>
+
+<p>Then up rose the hunter to whom he sang; and broad was his chest, and
+active his limb; and he cried aloud, "What my forefather did that will I
+do; in an hour will I stride from here to the summit of yon blue hill."</p>
+
+<p>And those that sat around, listening, laughed from their deep chests,
+shouting in mockery; for the blue hill was a day's journey away.</p>
+
+<p>Then in anger the chief clutched his spear of flint; and he cried to
+them, "Fill up the bowl to the mark that marks an hour, and fill it up
+again till the two hours mark is reached; and ere the last drop is out
+will I stand on yon blue hill; and moisten my hand in the bowl."</p>
+
+<p>Then turned he his face to the West, and, striding, stood on the cairn
+that capped the blue hill; and, returning, plunged his hand in the bowl:
+and, lo! his finger was moistened by the last drop ere it dripped from
+the hole at the base!</p>
+
+<p>Then those that sat around sent up a shout of mockery; and they said,
+"Lo, since you strode away hath the red sun set on the hill, and hath
+risen again from the lake; and is stooping to set once more!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then," cried he, "your words are a lie; for the clock but marks two
+hours."</p>
+
+<p>But the others cried in their turn, "The marks in the bowl were made to
+number, not hours, but <i>days</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>But the minstrel answered them, "Nay; they were made to number the
+hours&mdash;the hours of the distant past; the hours that were long as days."</p>
+
+<p>Then the younger among them laughed, and held it a minstrel's myth; but
+the elders, pondering, cried, "These words of the singer are sooth; for
+the days that whiten our beards are passing in greater haste than the
+days that lengthened our limbs!"</p>
+
+<p>But the younger among them said, "The hole in the bowl is clogged; it
+should run twelve times as fast."</p>
+
+<p>And they bored the hole in the base till the water dripped more
+fast&mdash;twelve drops to the former one&mdash;and numbered the hours that
+passed.</p>
+
+<p>And, wreathed in the grey of the mist that crept from the breast of the
+lake, the soul of the hero of old, of him who had fashioned the clock,
+looked down on them while they wrought: and vainly it strove to speak,
+and tell of the truth it knew; but voice and a tongue to speak would it
+lack for ages to come, for never a voice or tongue would it have till
+its hour arrived to dwell in the flesh once more; and then, and never
+till then, should it tell of the truth it knew.</p>
+
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<p>And, behold, on a day certain men journeyed toward Egypt, and this was
+that land of Egypt that should thereafter be mighty exceedingly; for
+these were the days before the First Dynasty&mdash;yea, many thousands of
+years before. And, it being nigh unto the time of the setting of the
+sun, they happened, by adventure, upon a cavern.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt spake, saying, Shall we
+not lay down our burthens, and shall we not take the burthens from off
+our camels and from off our asses in this place, and abide for the day
+in this place, even here?</p>
+
+<p>And they lay down their burthens even as they had spoken, saying, Shall
+we not lay them down? Also they took the burthens from off their camels
+and from off the backs of their asses, yea, and even from off the backs
+of their wives; and did tether them, even their camels and their asses
+and their wives, round about the cavern; and the men that journeyed
+toward the land of Egypt entered in unto the cavern, where there was
+shade, and washed their feet, and rested in the heat of the day.</p>
+
+<p>And it came to pass, while they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt
+rested in the cavern in the heat of the day, that they found a bowl in
+the cavern, and the bowl was of hard stone; even hewn from the hardest
+rock; and in the base of the bowl was a hole; and they that journeyed
+toward the land of Egypt marvelled at the bowl.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;">
+<img src="images/image100.jpg" width="490" height="450" alt="&quot;They marvelled at the bowl.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;They marvelled at the bowl.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>And behold, a certain man of them that was a wise man spake, saying,
+This is a clock at which ye marvel; for hath it not marks upon the inner
+side, even on the inward surface thereof, and were these marks not made
+to show the hours, by the dripping of the water from the hole that is at
+the bottom of the bowl, even the under side thereof?</p>
+
+<p>But they cried out upon him, saying, This is no true thing that you
+speak, neither is it the fact: for the water would abide in the bowl,
+between one mark and another, for the space of more than an hour; yea,
+even more than two or three hours!</p>
+
+<p>Then they cried out all together that the bowl should be filled with
+water; howbeit they said, Behold there is not in this cavern water
+sufficient to fill the bowl; for have we not emptied the water-skins
+that the women did fill at the well and did carry here; and is not the
+well distant from this place, even many paces of a camel?</p>
+
+<p>And there was none among them that would arise and go in the heat of the
+day to fetch the water that was in the well; but he that was wise among
+them spake, saying:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Shall not our wives, even those that are tethered outside the cavern
+round about it&mdash;shall not one of these go unto the well and fill the
+bowl at the well, and bring it hither filled with the water that is in
+the well?</p>
+
+<p>So they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt called out to the wives
+that they should enter in and fetch the bowl; and should fill it at the
+well, even as they had spoken.</p>
+
+<p>And it came to pass when the bowl was filled and set in their midst,
+that the water that was in the bowl, by reason of its dripping so slowly
+from the hole that was at the bottom of the bowl, abode in the bowl
+between one mark and another the space of three hours by the shadow of a
+spear that was set up outside the cavern.</p>
+
+<p>So they that journeyed toward the land of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> Egypt, even they that lay in
+the cavern, cried, saying, Behold, is it not even as we said, saying,
+The water will abide in the bowl between one mark and another for the
+space of more than an hour; and hath it not abode there the space of
+three hours?</p>
+
+<p>But he that was wise among them said unto them, Nay, but for a certainty
+these marks that are in the bowl were made for the marking of the space
+of an hour; howbeit the hours that were at the time of the making of
+this bowl, were they not of the space of three hours, even of three of
+the hours of the present time?</p>
+
+<p>Then they that were aged and well stricken in years among them that lay
+in the cavern in the heat of the day, these communed with themselves for
+a space; and they spake, saying, Verily thus, and thus it seemeth unto
+us; that the space of the passing of the hours that behold the whiteness
+of our beards is verily shorter than the space of the passing of the
+hours that did behold the increasing of our statures in the tents of our
+fathers! And it seemed unto them even so, that this saying was true.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/image101.jpg" width="550" height="148" alt="Honour to thee, King Ammon, mighty as Pthah the god, son
+of Osiris, to whom libations! A bowl wrought of hard stone set up at the
+temple of Isis marking the time." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Honour to thee, King Ammon, mighty as Pthah the god, son
+of Osiris, to whom libations! A bowl wrought of hard stone set up at the
+temple of Isis marking the time.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But they that were young among them, even the young men, scoffed,
+saying, The hole that is at the bottom of the bowl is clogged by reason
+of dirt that is within the hole: shall we not, therefore, bore out the
+hole, to the end that the water that is within the bowl shall drip
+faster, even three times as fast; and shall set forth the hours?</p>
+
+<p>So they that were young did according to that saying; and they bored the
+hole round about, until the water that was within the bowl dripped out
+three times as fast.</p>
+
+<p>And they rejoiced, saying, Behold, now it is a good and useful clock!
+And they bore the bowl with them into the land of Egypt; four wives and
+an ass carried the bowl in their turns&mdash;the four women for a space, and
+the ass for a space&mdash;until they came to the land of Egypt; and the clock
+was set up in the land of Egypt. And this was in the days before the
+First Dynasty; yea, many thousands of years before. And behold, the
+spirit of him that had wrought the bowl followed after the bowl, even
+unto the land of Egypt; for the spirit was filled with a great and
+exceeding desire to speak those things that were known unto it; yet the
+time of its speaking was not yet.</p>
+
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<p>In the days of Amun-Ta-Ra, in the Fifth Dynasty, in the year of the
+Altering of the Clock. Glory to thee, Amun.</p>
+
+<p>In that year, after his return from the war with many captives, did
+Amun-Ta-Ra order the greater hollowing of the hole at bottom of the
+clock set up before the temple of Isis telling the hours.</p>
+
+<p>The clock too slowly dripping, the hole being in part stopped, showing
+the hours too long, was altered. One hour in the space of two did it
+count. Let Amun-Ta-Ra live.</p>
+
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<p>Young Reuben scraped off his boots the worst of the mud from the furrows
+against the gate-post, shut the gate, and trudged homewards from his
+labour; as he turned into the road from the end of the lane he came in
+sight of old Reuben, sitting as usual on his heap of stones by the
+roadside; his hammer lay idly in his hand, its head on the heap of
+larger flints before him; the old gentleman was slowly shaking his
+head&mdash;not that he was such a very old gentleman; sixty, maybe; and still
+hale and strong.</p>
+
+<p>"What be amiss, father?" said young Reuben. "Ye've bin a-settin' there
+shakin' yer head like a old owl since I turned into the road. It be time
+to knock off."</p>
+
+<p>"Amiss, Reuben? Why, thet's where you have me, like. What I know is,
+there be a somethin' amiss; and it be either me or the time, and so I
+tell ye. Am I a-gettin' old an' weak, boy; or is it the hours a-goin'
+quicker? Lookee here, Reuben, it do seem to me as I can do less in the
+time every blessed day as follers t'other! Why, thirty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> year agone,
+blest if I didn't do&mdash;ah, double thet there little 'eap in the day's
+work&mdash;and yet, blame me if I feel a bit weaker nor I used ter! You mark
+my words, Reuben, boy; the hours is a-gettin' shorter every day&mdash;thet's
+what they're a-doin', and you put it down at thet!"</p>
+
+<p>Young Reuben laughed incredulously. "You're a-gittin' lazy, old
+'un&mdash;that's about the size of it," he said.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 343px;">
+<img src="images/image102.jpg" width="343" height="450" alt="&#39;Young Reuben laughed.&#39;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#39;Young Reuben laughed.&#39;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I hain't a-gettin' nothink o' the kind nor discripshen!" said old
+Reuben, starting up indignantly; "and you put it down at thet."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, lazy or not lazy, I ken show ye a stone as you ain't industrous
+enough fer to break. Found it in a furrer, I did; an' talk about 'ard!
+And a fair rum 'un he be, too."</p>
+
+<p>They plodded to the field young Reuben had just left; and young Reuben,
+with some difficulty, lifted the "stone" for inspection. It was a bowl,
+very ancient by the look of it, laboriously carved and ground out from a
+piece of rock that seemed as hard as steel.</p>
+
+<p>"A rum 'un he be, too, and right you are," said old Reuben. "A
+wash-bowl, likely."</p>
+
+<p>"What be that 'ole in the bottom fer, then?" said young Reuben.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, fer to empty him, that be, as a pig might see with 'is eyes shet."</p>
+
+<p>They carried the bowl home, and a pretty good weight they found it.</p>
+
+<p>Old Jim Pedler came along that evening to have a pipe. Jim Pedler had
+been about a deal here and there, and he knew a lot.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, whatee got theer?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe ye'll know that better ner us," replied old Reuben. "Some kind
+o'wash-basin, so we seem to reckon it be."</p>
+
+<p>"Wash-basin," said old Jim Pedler. "That's jest what it been't. I tellee
+now, I do think as it's some kind of old sort of water-clock, an' that's
+what I think. Why, see here now, if there ain't bin lines 'ere inside
+fer to mark the hours or somethin'. That's it&mdash;it be a water-clock.
+S'pose we gits some water an' tries it."</p>
+
+<p>They cleared out the hole at the bottom and filled the bowl with water
+up to the first hour mark; and, old Jim Pedler having a watch, they sat
+and looked on as the water dripped out; but when they had sat and smoked
+for two hours the bowl was still far from empty.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twern't never meant to reckon hours by, that's a moral," said young
+Reuben.</p>
+
+<p>"Thet's more ner <i>you</i> knows," replied old Reuben. "What der <i>you</i> know
+about folks's hours as lived ages ago? You jest let other folks's hours
+alone, as p'raps knowed better ner you. Mebbe their hours <i>was</i>
+longer&mdash;what did I say this wery day about the hours a-bein' shorter now
+than wot they was thirty year agone? But I tell yer wot: it 'ud make a
+notionable kind of clock if we was to bore the 'ole a bit bigger and
+jest manage to git it right for the hours."</p>
+
+<p>So they drilled and filed and tried to chip; and after much labour they
+made the hole large enough to let out the water from one mark to the
+next in sixty minutes.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while there hovered around them, invisible, the spirit of
+him that fashioned the bowl, longing to speak what it knew; but its time
+for returning to the flesh was not yet&mdash;but it was coming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h4>V.</h4>
+
+<p>The nineteenth century was ancient history, when one day, in a
+breathless, hurrying world, a busy City man was borne electrically home
+to his suburban villa one hundred miles from the City.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/image103-1.jpg" width="500" height="351" alt="&quot;They sat and smoked for two hours.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;They sat and smoked for two hours.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He was tired and morose, and a settled worry clouded his face.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it to-day, John?" asked his wife. "Done nothing again?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;">
+<img src="images/image103-2.jpg" width="397" height="450" alt="&quot;What is it to-day, John?&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;What is it to-day, John?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Nothing," replied the City man, wearily. "Absolutely nothing. Got up at
+seven&mdash;hurried like mad over dressing and breakfast, and managed to get
+through them by ten, and rush to town&mdash;got to town at twelve-thirty, and
+sat down to write one short letter&mdash;finished that by two&mdash;saw Brown
+about the cargo, and said a few words to him by four-thirty&mdash;read a
+telegram and two letters, fast as I could read, by five-thirty&mdash;gave
+instructions, about twenty words, to chief clerk by seven&mdash;dashed home
+again like lightning, and now it's nearly ten! My dear, this <i>can't</i> go
+on! The day is over before one has time to breathe! There is no time for
+anything. It's all very well to say we live a hundred years now against
+the seventy of a thousand years ago; but I'm convinced the years have
+grown shorter. Why&mdash;just fancy, Maria&mdash;when I was a boy we used to have
+time between sunrise and sunset to write out one hundred and fifty lines
+of Virgil, or row three miles on the river. Why, I saw in a very old
+newspaper in the Museum lately, that an athlete could once run a mile on
+the cinder path in four minutes seventeen seconds; and it can't be done
+now by a champion under twenty-five minutes! Halloa! here's the carrier
+brought that curious old water-clock I bought at the antiquity shop
+yesterday.... You see those faint lines inside? They were to mark the
+hours&mdash;hours, though&mdash;no! I'm sure the water would never drip through
+that little hole fast enough to sink one of those measurements in an
+hour. Let's try.... Halloa! While I've been talking it's got to one
+o'clock a.m.; and we haven't had time for dinner to-day&mdash;I mean
+yesterday. Maria! this <i>can't</i> go on! It's killing!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 327px;">
+<img src="images/image104-1.jpg" width="327" height="400" alt="MONDAY MORNING" title="" />
+<span class="caption">MONDAY MORNING</span>
+</div>
+<p>Next Sunday the City man tried the water-clock, and it took five hours
+and three-quarters for it to register an hour; so he had the hole at the
+bottom made larger&mdash;of more than five times its former capacity; and it
+registered the hours.</p>
+
+<p>And the spirit of him that had fashioned it hovered ever about the
+clock, waiting to speak what it knew; and its time was soon to come.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>VI.</h4>
+
+<p>And the City man had grown old; and his son was the City man now. And on
+the morning of Monday he would arise from bed and shave, and wash, and
+dress; and when he had done these things it was Monday night, and he sat
+down and ate his breakfast; and when he had finished his breakfast and
+drawn on his boots, it was Tuesday morning; and when he had hurried to
+town, it was Tuesday night; and when he had opened one letter and one
+telegram, and said ten words to his clerk, it was Wednesday night; and
+when he had dashed back home, it was Thursday morning; and when he had
+eaten his dinner, it was Friday morning; and then a short glance at the
+newspaper brought him to Friday night; and then into bed by Saturday
+morning, to sleep until Monday morning.</p>
+
+<p>And he became an elderly man; and now he would arise from bed on the
+Monday morning, and when he had washed and dressed, it was Tuesday
+morning; and when he had eaten his breakfast, it was Wednesday morning;
+so he could not go to town, as there was not time in the week. And men
+sat down dazed and paralyzed, for there was no time to do anything. And
+each week they enlarged the hole in the water-clock; and at the end of
+each week it dripped too slowly, and fell behind.</p>
+
+<p>And a new Astronomer-Royal was appointed; and in him was the soul,
+re-incarnated, of him who had fashioned the clock in the dusk of
+pre-historic ages; and at last he could tell what he knew.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 279px;">
+<img src="images/image104-2.jpg" width="279" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>And he told all men that the thing they had felt was true: he told them
+how, for many thousands of years, the earth and all the universe had
+revolved ever faster and faster; all with proportionate increase of
+velocity, so that the circuit of the moon kept its wonted time with the
+revolution of the earth; and the comets came and went at their expected
+seasons, as also occurred the eclipses; so that no man could know that
+which was taking place, but only guess. And now each day they enlarged
+the hole in the water-clock; until the bowl was growing to be <i>all</i>
+hole; and now they could not bore fast enough in the hard stone; and
+now&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. F. Sullivan.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="PALS_PUZZLE_PAGE" id="PALS_PUZZLE_PAGE"></a>PAL'S PUZZLE PAGE</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 506px;">
+<img src="images/image105.jpg" width="506" height="750" alt="FIND JOHN BULL&#39;S 3 DAUGHTERS" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="MANDRAKE_ROOTS" id="MANDRAKE_ROOTS"></a>MANDRAKE ROOTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/image106-1.jpg" width="100" height="157" alt="FRONT VIEW." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FRONT VIEW.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/image106-3.jpg" width="100" height="158" alt="BACK VIEW." title="" />
+<span class="caption">BACK VIEW.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/image106-2.jpg" width="100" height="276" alt="FRONT VIEW." title="" />
+<span class="caption">FRONT VIEW.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/image106-4.jpg" width="100" height="272" alt="BACK VIEW." title="" />
+<span class="caption">BACK VIEW.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The accompanying illustrations represent specimens of the mandragora
+(mandrake) root, which is found in some parts of Asia Minor and Syria.
+Many of these roots take the form of human beings, especially from the
+hips downward, and all have more or less the shape of a man or woman;
+one of the specimens resembling a woman carrying a child under each arm.
+The peasants relate that when the roots are pulled up out of the ground
+they utter cries or shrieks like a person in pain. The roots are still
+used for spells and other witchcraft. For these specimens we are
+indebted to Mr. A. Caillard, Ramleh, Alexandria, Egypt.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 484px;">
+<img src="images/image107.jpg" width="484" height="700" alt="CLOAKS AND" title="" />
+<span class="caption">CLOAKS AND</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 523px;">
+<img src="images/image108.jpg" width="523" height="750" alt="OVER COATS OF ALL TIME" title="" />
+<span class="caption">OVER COATS OF ALL TIME</span>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 541px;">
+<img src="images/image109.jpg" width="541" height="750" alt="THE HUNTER AND THE BIRD." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE HUNTER AND THE BIRD.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume V, Issue
+25, January 1893, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, JANUARY 1893 ***
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+</body>
+</html>
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