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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII, Issue
+160, April, 1904, 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 XXVII, Issue 160, April, 1904
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2011 [EBook #37484]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dianna Adair, Jonathan Ingram, Josephine
+Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF TWELVE, AND HER MOTHER.
+
+_From an Unpublished Photograph by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+
+
+
+THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
+
+Vol. xxvii.      APRIL, 1904.       No. 160.
+
+
+
+
+_The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt._
+
+Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+     [These Memoirs, written by the greatest actress of our
+     time, will give not only the story of her career in the
+     theatrical world, but also in social life, in which she
+     has, of course, met nearly all the celebrated people of
+     the day, from Royalties downwards, and will be found
+     throughout of the most striking interest to all classes
+     of readers.]
+
+
+CHAPTER I.--CHILDHOOD.
+
+My mother was fond of travelling: she would go from Spain to England, from
+London to Paris, from Paris to Berlin, and from there to Christiania; then
+she would come back, embrace me, and set out again for Holland, her native
+country. She used to send my nurse clothing for herself and cakes for me.
+To one of my aunts she would write: "Look after little Sarah; I shall
+return in a month's time." A month later she would write to another of her
+sisters: "Go and see the child at her nurse's; I shall be back in a couple
+of weeks."
+
+[Illustration: MME. SARAH BERNHARDT'S DEDICATORY LETTER.
+
+SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THIS MAGAZINE.
+
+"Je suis heureux de dédier le premier chapitre de mes Mémoires au peuple
+anglais, qui, le premier de tous les peuples étrangers, m'a accueillie avec
+une si grande bienveillance qu'il m'a fait croire en moi.--SARAH BERNHARDT,
+Paris, 1904."
+
+TRANSLATION.--"I am pleased to dedicate the first chapter of my Memoirs to
+the English people, who, first among all foreign nations, welcomed me with
+such great kindness that they made me believe in myself."]
+
+My mother's age was nineteen; I was three years old, and my two aunts were
+seventeen and twenty years of age; another aunt was fifteen, and the eldest
+was twenty-eight, but the last one lived at Martinique, and was the mother
+of six children. My grandmother was blind, my grandfather dead, and my
+father had been in China for the last two years. I have no idea why he had
+gone there.
+
+My youthful aunts always promised to come to see me, but rarely kept their
+word. My nurse hailed from Brittany and lived near Quimperlé, in a little
+white house with a low thatched roof, on which wild gillyflowers grew.
+That was the first flower which charmed my eyes as a child, and I have
+loved it ever since. Its leaves are heavy and sad-looking, and its petals
+are made of the setting sun.
+
+Brittany is a long way off, even in our present epoch of velocity. In those
+days it was the end of the world. Fortunately my nurse was, it appears, a
+good, kind woman, and, as her own child had died, she had only me to love.
+But she loved after the manner of poor people, when she had time.
+
+One day, as her husband was ill, she went into the fields to help gather in
+potatoes; the over-damp soil was rotting them, and there was no time to be
+lost. She left me in charge of her husband, who was lying on his Breton
+bedstead suffering from a bad attack of lumbago. The good woman had placed
+me in my high chair, and had been careful to put in the wooden peg which
+supported the narrow tablet for my toys. She threw a fagot in the grate,
+and said to me in Breton language (until the age of four I only understood
+Breton), "Be a good girl, Milk Blossom." That was my only name at the time.
+When she had gone I tried to withdraw the wooden peg which she had taken so
+much trouble to put in place. Finally I succeeded in pushing aside the
+little rampart. I wanted to reach the ground, but--poor little me!--I fell
+into the fire, which was burning joyfully.
+
+[Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT'S HOME IN BRITTANY WHEN SHE WAS A CHILD.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The screams of my foster-father, who could not move, brought in some
+neighbours. I was thrown, all smoking, into a large pail of fresh milk. My
+aunts were informed of what had happened; they communicated the news to my
+mother, and for the next four days that quiet part of the country was
+ploughed by stage-coaches, which arrived in rapid succession. My aunts came
+from all parts of the world; and my mother, in the greatest alarm, hastened
+from Brussels with Baron Larrey, one of her friends, who was a celebrated
+doctor, and a surgeon whom Baron Larrey had brought with him. I have been
+told since that nothing was more painful to witness, and yet so charming,
+as my mother's despair. The doctor approved of the "mask of butter," which
+was changed every two hours.
+
+Dear Baron Larrey! I often saw him afterwards, and now and again we shall
+meet him in the pages of my Memoirs. He used to tell me in such charming
+fashion how those kind folks loved Milk Blossom. And he could never refrain
+from laughing at the thought of that butter. There was butter everywhere,
+he used to say; on the bedsteads, on the cupboards, on the chairs, on the
+tables, hanging up on nails in bladders. All the neighbours used to bring
+butter to make masks for Milk Blossom.
+
+Mother, admirably beautiful, looking like a Madonna, with her golden hair
+and her eyes fringed with such long lashes that they made a shadow on her
+cheeks when she bent her eyes, distributed money on all sides. She would
+have given her golden hair, her slender white fingers, her tiny feet, her
+life itself, in order to save the child. And she was as sincere in her
+despair and her love as in her unconscious forgetfulness. Baron Larrey left
+for Paris, leaving my mother, Aunt Rosine, and the surgeon with me.
+Forty-two days later mother took in triumph to Paris the nurse, the
+foster-father, and me, and installed us in a little house at Neuilly, on
+the banks of the Seine. I had not even a scar, it appears. My skin was
+rather too bright a pink, but that was all. My mother, happy and trustful
+once more, began to travel again, leaving me in care of my aunts.
+
+Two years were spent in the little garden at Neuilly, which was full of
+horrible dahlias, growing close together and coloured like woollen balls.
+My aunts never came there. My mother used to send money, bonbons, and toys.
+The foster-father died, and my nurse married a concierge, who used to pull
+open the door at 65, Rue de Provence.
+
+Not knowing where to find my mother, and not being able to write, my
+nurse--without telling any of my friends took me with her to her new abode.
+
+The change delighted me. I was five years old at the time, and I remember
+the day as if it were yesterday. My nurse's abode was just over the doorway
+of the house, and the window was framed in the heavy and monumental door.
+From outside I thought it was beautiful, and I began to clap my hands on
+reaching the house. It was towards five o'clock in the evening in the month
+of November, when everything looks grey. I was put to bed, and no doubt I
+went to sleep at once, for there end my souvenirs of that day.
+
+The next morning there was terrible grief in store for me. There was no
+window in the little room in which I slept, and I began to cry, and escaped
+from the arms of my nurse, who was dressing me, so that I could go into the
+adjoining room. I ran to the round window, which was an immense
+"bull's-eye" above the doorway, I pressed my stubborn brow against the
+glass and began to scream with rage on seeing no trees; no box-wood, no
+leaves falling, nothing, nothing but stone--cold, grey, ugly stone, and
+panes of glass opposite me. "I want to go away. I don't want to stay here.
+It is all black, black! It is ugly! I want to see the ceiling of the
+street!" and I burst into tears. My poor nurse took me up in her arms and,
+folding me in a rug, took me down into the courtyard. "Lift up your head,
+Milk Blossom, and look! See, there is the ceiling of the street!"
+
+It comforted me somewhat to see that there was some sky in this ugly place,
+but my little soul was very sad. I could not eat, and I grew pale and
+became anæmic, and I should certainly have died of consumption if it had
+not been for a mere chance, a most unexpected incident. One day I was
+playing in the courtyard with a little girl named Titine, who lived on the
+second floor, and whose face or real name I cannot recall. I saw my nurse's
+husband walking across the courtyard with two ladies, one of whom was most
+fashionably attired. I could only see their backs, but the voice of the
+fashionably-attired lady caused my heart to stop beating. My poor little
+body trembled with nervous excitement.
+
+"Do any of the windows look on to the courtyard?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, madame, those four," he replied, pointing to four open ones on the
+first floor.
+
+The lady turned to look at them, and I uttered a cry of joy.
+
+"Aunt Rosine! Aunt Rosine!" I exclaimed, clinging to the skirts of the
+pretty visitor. I buried my face in her furs, stamping, sobbing, laughing,
+and tearing her wide lace sleeves in my frenzy of delight. She took me in
+her arms and tried to calm me, and, questioning the concierge, she
+stammered out to her friend, "I can't understand what it all means! This is
+little Sarah! My sister Youle's child!"
+
+The noise I made had attracted attention, and people opened their windows.
+My aunt decided to take refuge in the concierge's lodge, in order to come
+to an explanation. My poor nurse told her all that had taken place--her
+husband's death and her second marriage. I do not remember what she said to
+excuse herself. I clung to my aunt, who was deliciously perfumed, and I
+would not let go of her.
+
+She promised to come the following day to fetch me, but I did not want to
+stay any longer in that dark place. I asked to start at once with my nurse.
+My aunt stroked my hair gently, and spoke to her friend in a language I did
+not understand. She tried in vain to explain something to me--I do not know
+what it was--but I insisted that I wanted to go away with her at once. In
+a gentle, tender, caressing voice, but without any real affection, she said
+all kinds of pretty things, stroked me with her gloved hands, patted my
+frock, which was turned up, and made any amount of charming, frivolous
+little gestures, but all without any real feeling. She then went away, at
+her friend's entreaty, after emptying her purse in my nurse's hands. I
+rushed towards the door, but the husband of my nurse, who had opened it for
+her, now closed it again. My nurse was crying, and, taking me in her arms,
+she opened the window, saying to me: "Don't cry, Milk Blossom; look at your
+pretty aunt. She will come back again, and then you can go away with her."
+
+[Illustration: RUE DE PROVENCE, WHERE SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF FIVE,
+WAS TAKEN TO LIVE WITH HER NURSE.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert Paris._]
+
+Great tears rolled down her calm, round, handsome face. I could see nothing
+but the dark, black hole which remained there immutable behind me, and in a
+fit of despair I rushed out to my aunt, who was just getting into a
+carriage. After that I knew nothing more; everything seemed dark; there was
+a noise in the distance. I could hear voices far, far away. I had managed
+to escape from my poor nurse and had fallen down on the pavement in front
+of my aunt. I had broken my arm in two places and injured my left knee-cap.
+I only came to myself again a few hours later, to find that I was in a
+beautiful wide bed which smelt very nice. It stood in the middle of a large
+room, with two lovely windows, which made me very joyful, for I could see
+the ceiling of Heaven through them.
+
+My mother, who had been sent for immediately, came to take care of me, and
+I saw the rest of my family, my aunts and my cousins. My poor little brain
+could not understand why all these people should suddenly be so fond of me,
+when I had passed so many days and nights only cared for by one single
+person.
+
+As I was weakly and my bones were small and friable, I was two years
+recovering from this terrible fall, and during that time was nearly always
+carried about. I will pass over these two years of my life, which have left
+me only a vague memory of being petted, and of a chronic state of torpor.
+
+One day my mother took me on her knees and said to me, "You are a big girl
+now, and you must learn to read and write." I was then seven years old and
+could neither read, write, nor count, as I had been five years with the old
+nurse and two years ill. "You must go to school," continued my mother,
+playing with my curly hair, "like a big girl." I did not know what all this
+meant, and I asked what a school was.
+
+"It's a place where there are many little girls," replied my mother.
+
+"Are they ill?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, no. They are quite well, like you are now, and they play together, and
+are very gay and happy."
+
+I jumped about in delight and gave free vent to my joy, but on seeing tears
+in my mother's eyes I flung myself in her arms.
+
+"But what about you, mamma?" I asked. "You will be all alone and you won't
+have any little girl."
+
+She bent down to me and said, "God has told me that he will send me some
+flowers and a little baby."
+
+My delight was more and more boisterous. "Then I shall have a little
+brother!" I exclaimed, "or else a little sister! Oh, no, I don't want
+that; I don't like little sisters!"
+
+Mamma kissed me very affectionately, and then I was dressed, I remember, in
+a blue corded velvet frock, of which I was very proud. Arrayed thus in all
+my splendour, I waited impatiently for Aunt Rosine's carriage, which was to
+take us to Auteuil.
+
+It was about three o'clock when she arrived. The housemaid had gone on
+about an hour before, and I had watched with delight my little trunk and my
+toys being packed into the carriage. The maid climbed up and took the seat
+by the driver, in spite of my mother protesting at first against this. When
+my aunt's magnificent equipage arrived, mamma was the first to get in,
+slowly and calmly. I got in slowly too, giving myself airs because the
+concierge and some of the shop-keepers were watching. My aunt then sprang
+in lightly, but by no means calmly, after giving her orders in English to
+the stiff, ridiculous-looking coachman, and handing him a paper on which
+the address was written. Another carriage followed ours, in which three men
+were seated: Régis L----, a friend of my father's, General de P----, and an
+artist named Fleury, I think, whose pictures of horses and sporting
+subjects were very much in vogue just then.
+
+I heard on the way that these gentlemen were going to arrange about a
+little dinner near Auteuil to console mamma for her great trouble in being
+separated from me. Some other guests were to be there to meet them. I did
+not pay very much attention to what my mother and my aunt said to each
+other. Sometimes when they spoke of me they talked either English or
+German, and smiled at me affectionately. The long drive was greatly
+appreciated by me, for, with my face pressed against the window and my eyes
+wide open, I gazed out eagerly at the grey, muddy road, with its ugly
+houses on each side and its bare trees. I thought it was all very
+beautiful--because it kept changing.
+
+The carriage stopped at 18, Rue Boileau, Auteuil. On the iron gate was a
+long, dark signboard, with gold letters. I looked up at it, and mamma said:
+"You will be able to read that soon, I hope." My aunt whispered to me,
+"Boarding School. Madame Fressard," and, very promptly, I said to mamma:
+"It says, 'Boarding School. Madame Fressard.'"
+
+[Illustration: THE EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENT AT AUTEUIL WHERE SARAH
+BERNHARDT PASSED SOME OF HER EARLY YEARS.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Mamma, my aunt, and the three gentlemen laughed heartily at my assurance,
+and we entered the house. Mme. Fressard came forward to meet us, and I
+liked her at once. She was of medium height, rather stout, with a small
+waist, and her hair turning grey "en Sévigné." She had beautiful, large
+eyes, rather like George Sand's; very white teeth, which showed up all the
+more as her complexion was rather tawny. She looked healthy, spoke kindly;
+her hands were plump and her fingers long. She took my hand gently in hers
+and, half-kneeling, so that her face was level with mine, she said, in a
+musical voice, "You won't be afraid of me, will you, little girl?" I did
+not answer, but my face flushed as red as a coxcomb. She asked me several
+questions, but I refused to reply. They all gathered round me. "Speak,
+child!" "Come, Sarah, be a good girl!" "Oh, the naughty little child!"
+
+It was all in vain. I remained perfectly mute. The customary round was then
+made of the bedrooms, the dining-hall, the class-rooms, and the usual
+exaggerated compliments were paid. "How beautifully it is all kept! How
+spotlessly clean everything is!" and a hundred stupidities of this kind
+about the comfort of these prisons for children. My mother went aside with
+Mme. Fressard, and I clung to her knees so that she could not walk. "This
+is the doctor's prescription," she said, and then followed a long list of
+things that were to be done for me.
+
+Mme. Fressard smiled rather ironically. "You know, madame," she said to my
+mother, "we shall not be able to curl her hair like that." "And you
+certainly will not be able to uncurl it," replied my mother, stroking my
+head with her gloved hands. "It's a regular wig, and they must never
+attempt to comb it until it has been well brushed. They could not possibly
+get the knots out otherwise, and it would hurt her too much. What do you
+give the children at four o'clock?" she asked, changing the subject. "Oh, a
+slice of bread and just what the parents leave for them."
+
+"There are twelve pots of different kinds of jam," said my mother, "but she
+must have jam one day and chocolate another, as she has not a good
+appetite, and requires change of food. I have brought six pounds of
+chocolate." Mme. Fressard smiled in a good-natured but rather ironical way.
+She picked up a packet of the chocolate and looked at the mark.
+
+"Ah! from Marquis? What a spoilt little girl it is!" She patted my cheek
+with her white fingers, and then, as her eyes fell on a large jar, she
+looked surprised. "That's cold cream," said my mother. "I make it myself,
+and I should like my little girl's face and hands to be rubbed with it
+every night when she goes to bed."
+
+"But----" began Mme. Fressard.
+
+"Oh, I'll pay double laundry expenses for the sheets," interrupted my
+mother, impatiently. (Ah! my poor mother, I remember quite well that my
+sheets were changed once a month, like those of the other pupils.)
+
+The farewell moment came at last, and everyone gathered round mamma, and
+finally carried her off, after a great deal of kissing, and with all kinds
+of consoling words. "It will be so good for her." "It is just what she
+needs." "You'll find her quite changed when you see her again," etc., etc.
+
+The General, who was very fond of me, picked me up in his arms and tossed
+me in the air.
+
+"You little chit," he said; "they are putting you to the barracks, and
+you'll have to mind your pace!"
+
+I pulled his long moustache, and he said, winking, and looking in the
+direction of Mme. Fressard, who had a slight moustache, "You mustn't do
+that to the lady, you know!"
+
+My aunt laughed heartily, and my mother gave a little stifled laugh, and
+the whole troop went off in a regular whirlwind of rustling skirts and
+farewells, whilst I was taken away to the cage where I was to be
+imprisoned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I spent two years at this school, and I learned to read, write, and do
+sums. I also learned plenty of new games, and to sing _rondeaux_ and
+embroider handkerchiefs for mamma.
+
+I was comparatively happy on the whole, because we went out on Sundays and
+Thursdays, and I had a sort of sensation of liberty on those days. The sun
+in the street seemed to me quite different from the sun in the big garden
+belonging to the school. My Aunt Felix Faure (no relation to the wife of
+the late President) often fetched me and took me out with her. There was a
+little brook running through the grounds round her house at Neuilly, and I
+used to spend hours fishing in it with my two cousins, a boy and a girl.
+
+These two years passed by peacefully enough, the chief events being my
+terrible fits of temper, which upset the whole school occasionally, and
+ended usually by my spending two or three days in the sick-room. One day
+Aunt Rosine arrived suddenly, to take me away altogether. My father had
+written giving orders as to where I was to be placed, and these orders were
+imperative. My mother was travelling, so she had sent word to my aunt, who
+had hurried off at once between two dances, to carry out the instructions
+she had received.
+
+The idea that I was to be ordered about without any regard to my own wishes
+or inclinations put me into an indescribable rage. I rolled about on the
+ground, uttering the most heartrending cries. I yelled out all kinds of
+reproaches, blaming mamma, my aunts, and Mme. Fressard for not finding some
+way to keep me with her. The struggle lasted two hours, and while I was
+being dressed I escaped twice into the garden and attempted to climb the
+trees and to throw myself into the pond, in which there was more mud than
+water.
+
+[Illustration: THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT, VERSAILLES.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Finally, when I was completely exhausted and subdued, I was taken off
+sobbing in my aunt's carriage.
+
+I stayed three days at her house, as I was so feverish that they all
+thought I was sickening for some illness. It proved to be nothing but the
+result of my wild fit of anger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I will pass over some pages which my readers will find later on in my
+Memoirs, and will go on to the time when I was at the Grand Champ Convent
+at Versailles, whither I had been taken after various events.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Endowed with a lively imagination and with an extremely sensitive nature,
+the Christian legend appealed both to my heart and mind. The Divine Martyr
+became my ideal, and the Mother with the Seven Sorrows I simply worshipped.
+
+An event which seemed simple enough in itself, but which was very
+important, as, indeed, everything is which disturbs, if only for an hour,
+the tranquillity of convent life, served to attach me more strongly than
+ever to this peaceful home. It seemed to me to be the place for all earthly
+happiness and the road to eternal peace in the next world.
+
+The Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur Sibour, was to honour the convent by
+paying a sacerdotal visit. It was not only the father coming to look after
+the welfare of his children, but, and more particularly this, it was the
+Prince of the Church condescending to appear in the midst of these humble
+and holy women and pure children. It was a Divine Majesty coming down from
+the throne to mingle with his human subjects.
+
+The whole convent was in a state of great excitement when the good news was
+received, and I must own that there was more enthusiasm than solemnity
+visible during the time that preceded the visit. The chapel was decorated
+with all its most special ornaments for this most special reception. The
+whole house was filled with flowers, and what particularly delighted me and
+several of my companions was that a play taken from a Biblical subject was
+rehearsed for the benefit of Monseigneur. I should not like to affirm that
+the privileged ones who were chosen to take part in this play had no vanity
+on their conscience on that particular day. It was no small glory to appear
+before a public, limited certainly in number, but so wonderfully select.
+
+I was only a fragile child at that time, interesting rather than pretty, in
+spite of my rose-coloured lips, my "heavenly eyes," as the nuns called
+them, and my light gold hair. It is from that far-back time that my
+earliest theatrical souvenirs date. It was St. Catherine's Day, a general
+holiday in all the convents for girls, but with us, this year, it was a
+very great day. Much more attention than usual had been given to the
+rehearsals of the play that was to be performed. The subject of the piece
+had been taken from the Bible. It was the journey of young Tobias, and had
+been written by Sister Thérèse.
+
+The girls who had _rôles_ were wild with delight. They had had committee
+meetings, at which they discussed the quality of the piece, and I may add
+that it was unanimously pronounced perfectly wonderful. All around me I
+heard nothing but exclamations of joy and admiration, and I alone was
+wretched, absolutely wretched, for I had no _rôle_. What misery I endured
+in the midst of all this joy! My dear Mother--as we called the elder girls
+who looked after us--never thought of trying to comfort me nor yet to
+reason with me; she was too much taken up herself with the great event. I
+could, therefore, weep and fume to my heart's content. I knew all the
+_rôles_ by heart, and I thought that most of the girls recited their parts
+very badly. Finally I undertook to coach Louise Bugnet in her _rôle_. She
+was to play the part of the guiding angel, and she could not manage it at
+all. She was ten years old, and I liked her very much. She was my special
+friend. "How silly you are!" I said to her. "If I were in your place I
+should not be at all nervous. Listen! this is how I should say it." And
+standing in front of her I went through her part, and she then repeated it
+much better after me. But the next day, at the final rehearsal, in the
+large room which we used on holidays, she was seized with such a trembling
+fit that she could not utter a single word. We were all there together, and
+Mother Sainte-Appoline was drilling us in her own way. She imitated
+Monseigneur Sibour, who was to be present at the performance, and she said,
+"When he does like this you must all clap," and when she clapped her long,
+delicate hands together, it sounded as though there were cotton-wool
+between them.
+
+I should have enjoyed all this immensely if I had not been furious. I knew
+all the _rôles_ and had not a single word to say. Most of the girls were
+beaming with pride; Louise Bugnet alone was crying and sobbing. I thought
+her very stupid.
+
+"That child will never get through her part," exclaimed the Mother
+Superior.
+
+"Oh, no, I can't; I am sure I can't!" sobbed my poor little friend.
+
+There was a general uproar, and all at once I felt my childish heart leap
+with the wildest joy. The blood seemed to boil in my veins, and, rushing
+from the platform, I jumped on to a form. "Mother! Mother!" I exclaimed, "I
+know the _rôle_. Would you like me to take it?"
+
+Everybody was looking at me. I was trembling, but I felt quite brave. I
+knew the part and was sure of myself.
+
+Mother Sainte-Sophie, the Superior of the Convent, an adorable creature
+(one of the happy memories of my childhood), answered: "Well, my dear, let
+me hear you."
+
+I tossed back my refractory hair, and, bold and panting, proceeded to
+recite the _rôle_ of the guiding angel.
+
+"There!" I exclaimed, when I came to the end.
+
+My schoolfellows laughed, the sisters smiled, but, very much encouraged, I
+mounted on to the little platform and the rehearsal commenced.
+
+"It will be all right," everyone said, and I felt very proud, but still I
+was afraid lest I should not get through well enough.
+
+When the rehearsal was over the luncheon bell rang, but I could neither eat
+nor drink; I felt choked and oppressed. How many times since then I have
+had this same sensation of physical anguish!
+
+On the table there was a special treat that day--a dish of custard. I was
+very fond of this, but I could not possibly swallow anything. I glanced
+anxiously at the girls to see if they were looking or listening. They were
+eating and laughing. Louise Bugnet took my share of the custard. "Look
+here!" she said, "you've taken my _rôle_, so I can eat your custard." I
+began to cry, for I was very fond of custard. Fortunately, just then Sister
+Sainte-Marie came to fetch me to be dressed, otherwise I should have had a
+fit of temper, and it is quite probable that my silver goblet and my pewter
+plate would have landed in the middle of the table. I was taken into the
+large committee-room. I had never been in it before, and to my childish
+imagination there was something mysterious about it.
+
+I shuddered on entering, for it seemed to me I should hear all those rules
+that were discussed in there twice a month. A looking-glass had been
+brought in, the only one I ever saw in the convent. It belonged to Père
+Larcher, the gardener, the only man who was free to come in and out of the
+house. The glass was too small and was framed in oak, with a bird carved on
+the top. I can see it now, with the tinfoil worn off in patches and marks
+all over it which interfered with its transparency. The nuns kept at a safe
+distance from it as though it were a danger, and their black veils were
+lowered over their white crêpe ones. The sister who attended to the
+turning-box, the only one in the convent who was not cloistered (because it
+was she who had to deal with the tradesmen), was told off to dress us. She
+put a long white gown on me with large sleeves, and two beautiful white
+wings were then fastened on to me. My hair had been well curled and was
+tied over my forehead with a gold lace.
+
+[Illustration: THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT FROM THE GARDEN.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Oh, dear, how my poor little heart was beating!
+
+Suddenly the convent bells began to peal gaily; a carriage rolled up into
+the courtyard and Monseigneur Sibour made his appearance.
+
+I was too little and could not see, although I did my utmost to make myself
+higher. Père Larcher lifted me up in his arms, and then what a magnificent
+sight I beheld.
+
+Monseigneur had alighted from his episcopal carriage and Mother
+Sainte-Sophie, our Mother Superior, was kneeling down and kissing his ring.
+All the nuns, with bowed heads, were awaiting the signal to kneel down and
+receive his blessing.
+
+I thought all this very beautiful. All these black gowns with white caps,
+and then this tall man in violet, with white hair, so majestic looking, and
+yet with such a kind, fatherly expression on his face. Then, too, there
+were the carriage and the fat coachman, all bedizened and yet sitting up
+straight and looking so solemn on his draped seat, and our chaplain, both
+gentle and severe--I thought it was all superb, and I decided to become a
+nun.
+
+An hour passed by, during which I knew absolutely nothing of what was said
+or done.
+
+I was waiting, very tired after all my emotion, and half asleep, too, in
+the armchair which belonged to the old Mère Sainte-Alexis, the most aged
+member of the community.
+
+A light touch woke me. I was dreaming of my _rôle_ and was not, therefore,
+at all surprised. I exclaimed, as I rushed towards the door, "Ah, they are
+going to commence!"
+
+Unfortunately, I had forgotten my long dress, and I fell down in the middle
+of the room. The merriment which my accident caused put me in such a rage
+that the tears which the pain in my knees brought to my eyes dried up
+promptly. "I haven't hurt myself, there now!" I exclaimed, furious, and
+then went into the small room which was to serve as our green-room.
+
+The stage was represented by a plank of wood, which prevented our passing
+the limits arranged. There was, of course, no sign of a curtain. A wooden
+bench and a table, upon which was the frugal repast of old Tobias,
+constituted the scenery.
+
+Ah! there were also two stools, which one of the girls had to move about as
+required. When I entered our green-room the entertainment had commenced,
+but it was not time for our play. The eldest boarder was reciting the
+address which had been composed in honour of Monseigneur. Her hard, dry
+voice, repeating correctly the words she had learned, sounded to me like
+the creaking of a door. We were eleven little girls in this small room, and
+not one of us uttered a word. We could hear the beating of our hearts. Our
+feverish little hands, clasped together from habit in prayer, were
+clenched now in terror.
+
+This opening number was over at last, and the girl was presented with a
+cross that had been blessed. She assured us that she had not been nervous,
+and that it was quite easy. We had only to look at the bright light which
+the sun threw on the frame of the large picture representing Heaven, with
+all the angels. In this way each one could imagine herself alone.
+
+[Illustration: MME. SARAH BERNHARDT.
+
+_From a Photo. by Lafayette._]
+
+After this Marie Hubart played a piano-forte solo. Nothing was spared for
+this great ceremony, and then, at last, it was our turn. I will not give
+the details of the piece, as it is well known. I tell this as one of my
+souvenirs, as it was my _début_. I came very near entering a nunnery. It
+seemed to me that there was nothing better, nothing which could make me
+happier. In my childish imagination I could see angels drawing me
+heavenwards. The only way appeared to be through the convent. In the
+meantime I was about to appear on the stage.
+
+I felt paralyzed, and a shudder ran through me from the back of my neck to
+my feet. I fancy that I missed the right moment for appearing on the scene,
+as one of the girls pushed me forward, just as my professor, Monsieur M.
+Provost, had to do some years later when I made my _début_ in "Iphigenia"
+at the Comédie Française. My entrance was a success, for I had a sudden fit
+of self-assurance, although I was really half delirious with fright, and I
+went through my part very well, adding whole phrases to it. I scarcely knew
+what I was saying, but I continued nevertheless.
+
+When the piece was over the guiding angel was sent for by Monseigneur. I
+was perfectly triumphant.
+
+"What's your name, my child?" asked Monseigneur.
+
+"Sarah," I replied.
+
+"That name must be changed," he said, smiling.
+
+"Yes," answered the Superior, "her father wants her to be baptized and to
+be called Henriette; the ceremony is to take place in a month."
+
+"Well, Sarah or Henriette," said Monseigneur, "here is a medal that you
+must always wear, and the next time I come here you must recite some
+poetry, 'Esther's Prayer,' for me."
+
+Monseigneur then kissed me, and this caused some jealousy. I promised him
+that I would learn "Esther's Prayer" for his next visit. I had only a vague
+idea of what he meant by poetry. I knew some fables, but was not aware that
+they were poetry. I asked to have something to learn at once for
+Monseigneur, and "Esther's Prayer" was given to me. I began to study it
+without a moment's delay. Alas! I was never to recite it to him. A few days
+later, one morning after prayers, when we were all assembled in the chapel,
+the almoner, who was deeply moved, told us in a short address that
+Monseigneur Sibour had just been assassinated.[A] Little had we expected to
+hear such terrible news.
+
+All feelings of envy and triumph, together with the joyful remembrance of
+our _fête_, were swept away in this great grief, which, for my part, I have
+never forgotten.
+
+Assassinated! A wave of terror seemed to pass over us, and the dread word,
+echoing through the church, smote me more particularly. Had I not been
+marked out as the favourite of the moment? It was to me as though the
+murderer, Verger, had robbed me at the same time of my little share of
+glory. I began to cry, more with regret than sorrow, and the prayers for
+the dead, that we were told to say, brought my grief to a climax. I was
+carried away in a fainting-fit, and it was from that time that I was taken
+with an ardent love for mysticism, which was encouraged by our religious
+observances, the _mise-en-scène_ of our services, and perhaps, too, by the
+fervent and cajoling approval of the women who were educating me. They were
+very fond of me and I adored them, so that even now the memory of them
+thrills my heart with affection.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] He was killed by the Abbé Verger, a priest who had been suspended from
+office, Jan. 1, 1857.
+
+
+
+
+THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES[A].
+
+By A. CONAN DOYLE.
+
+
+_VII.--The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton._
+
+It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is
+with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the
+utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the
+facts public; but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of
+human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion
+as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the
+career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me
+if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual
+occurrence.
+
+We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had
+returned about six o'clock on a cold, frosty winter's evening. As Holmes
+turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at
+it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I
+picked it up and read:--
+
+    CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON,
+    APPLEDORE TOWERS,
+    AGENT. HAMPSTEAD.
+
+"Who is he?" I asked.
+
+"The worst man in London," Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched
+his legs before the fire. "Is anything on the back of the card?"
+
+I turned it over.
+
+"Will call at 6.30--C. A. M.," I read.
+
+"Hum! He's about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson,
+when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo and see the slithery,
+gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened
+faces? Well, that's how Milverton impresses me. I've had to do with fifty
+murderers in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion
+which I have for this fellow. And yet I can't get out of doing business
+with him--indeed, he is here at my invitation."
+
+"But who is he?"
+
+"I'll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help
+the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into
+the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will
+squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius
+in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His
+method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay
+very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position.
+He receives these wares not only from treacherous valets or maids, but
+frequently from genteel ruffians who have gained the confidence and
+affection of trusting women. He deals with no niggard hand. I happen to
+know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in
+length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything
+which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this
+great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may
+fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to
+mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment
+when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man
+in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot
+blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure
+tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already
+swollen money-bags?"
+
+I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling.
+
+"But surely," said I, "the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?"
+
+"Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman,
+for example, to get him a few months' imprisonment if her own ruin must
+immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed
+an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning
+as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him."
+
+[Illustration: "CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON."]
+
+"And why is he here?"
+
+"Because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case in my hands. It
+is the Lady Eva Brackwell, the most beautiful _débutante_ of last season.
+She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of Dovercourt. This fiend
+has several imprudent letters--imprudent, Watson, nothing worse--which were
+written to an impecunious young squire in the country. They would suffice
+to break off the match. Milverton will send the letters to the Earl unless
+a large sum of money is paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him,
+and--to make the best terms I can."
+
+At that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below.
+Looking down I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps
+gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A footman opened
+the door, and a small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan overcoat descended.
+A minute later he was in the room.
+
+Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual
+head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen
+grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses.
+There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred
+only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those
+restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his
+countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring
+his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the
+outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's
+smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it
+with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.
+
+"This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is
+it right?"
+
+"Dr. Watson is my friend and partner."
+
+"Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I
+protested. The matter is so very delicate----"
+
+"Dr. Watson has already heard of it."
+
+"Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Eva.
+Has she empowered you to accept my terms?"
+
+"What are your terms?"
+
+"Seven thousand pounds."
+
+"And the alternative?"
+
+"My dear sir, it is painful to me to discuss it; but if the money is not
+paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the 18th." His
+insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.
+
+Holmes thought for a little.
+
+"You appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters too much for
+granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My
+client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her
+future husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity."
+
+Milverton chuckled.
+
+"You evidently do not know the Earl," said he.
+
+From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could clearly see that he did.
+
+"What harm is there in the letters?" he asked.
+
+"They are sprightly--very sprightly," Milverton answered. "The lady was a
+charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of Dovercourt
+would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will
+let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that
+it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be
+placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so
+large a sum of money to regain them." He rose and seized his astrachan
+coat.
+
+Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.
+
+"Wait a little," he said. "You go too fast. We would certainly make every
+effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter."
+
+Milverton relapsed into his chair.
+
+"I was sure that you would see it in that light," he purred.
+
+"At the same time," Holmes continued, "Lady Eva is not a wealthy woman. I
+assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon her resources,
+and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg, therefore,
+that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters
+at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can
+get."
+
+Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.
+
+"I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources," said he.
+"At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is
+a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little
+effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding
+present. Let me assure them that this little bundle of letters would give
+more joy than all the candelabra and butter-dishes in London."
+
+"It is impossible," said Holmes.
+
+"Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!" cried Milverton, taking out a bulky
+pocket-book. "I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill-advised in not
+making an effort. Look at this!" He held up a little note with a
+coat-of-arms upon the envelope. "That belongs to--well, perhaps it is
+hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow morning. But at that time it
+will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not
+find a beggarly sum which she could get in an hour by turning her diamonds
+into paste. It _is_ such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the
+engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two
+days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the _Morning Post_ to say
+that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum
+of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not
+pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when
+your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes."
+
+"What I say is true," Holmes answered. "The money cannot be found. Surely
+it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer than to ruin
+this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?"
+
+"There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me
+indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases
+maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example
+of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more open to reason. You see
+my point?"
+
+Holmes sprang from his chair.
+
+"Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the
+contents of that note-book."
+
+Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and stood
+with his back against the wall.
+
+"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," he said, turning the front of his coat and
+exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside
+pocket. "I have been expecting you to do something original. This has been
+done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I assure you that I am
+armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing
+that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring
+the letters here in a note-book is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so
+foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this
+evening, and it is a long drive to Hampstead." He stepped forward, took up
+his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked
+up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again. With a bow,
+a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments
+after we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle of the wheels
+as he drove away.
+
+[Illustration: "EXHIBITING THE BUTT OF A LARGE REVOLVER, WHICH PROJECTED
+FROM THE INSIDE POCKET."]
+
+Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser
+pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing
+embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture of
+a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his
+bedroom. A little later a rakish young work-man with a goatee beard and a
+swagger lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the street.
+"I'll be back some time, Watson," said he, and vanished into the night. I
+understood that he had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus
+Milverton; but I little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was
+destined to take.
+
+For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but beyond
+a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was not wasted,
+I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on a wild,
+tempestuous evening, when the wind screamed and rattled against the
+windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having removed his
+disguise he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward
+fashion.
+
+"You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?"
+
+"No, indeed!"
+
+"You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged."
+
+"My dear fellow! I congrat----"
+
+"To Milverton's housemaid."
+
+"Good heavens, Holmes!"
+
+"I wanted information, Watson."
+
+"Surely you have gone too far?"
+
+"It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business,
+Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have talked
+with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I wanted. I
+know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand."
+
+"But the girl, Holmes?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you
+can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I
+have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back
+is turned. What a splendid night it is!"
+
+"You like this weather?"
+
+"It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house to-night."
+
+I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words, which
+were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution. As a flash of
+lightning in the night shows up in an instant every detail of a wide
+landscape, so at one glance I seemed to see every possible result of such
+an action--the detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in
+irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of
+the odious Milverton.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Holmes, think what you are doing," I cried.
+
+"My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never
+precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed so
+dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the matter
+clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the action is
+morally justifiable, though technically criminal. To burgle his house is no
+more than to forcibly take his pocket-book--an action in which you were
+prepared to aid me."
+
+I turned it over in my mind.
+
+"Yes," I said; "it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to take
+no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose."
+
+"Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the
+question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much stress
+upon this when a lady is in most desperate need of his help?"
+
+"You will be in such a false position."
+
+"Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of
+regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the money, and there
+are none of her people in whom she could confide. To-morrow is the last day
+of grace, and unless we can get the letters to-night this villain will be
+as good as his word and will bring about her ruin. I must, therefore,
+abandon my client to her fate or I must play this last card. Between
+ourselves, Watson, it's a sporting duel between this fellow Milverton and
+me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first exchanges; but my
+self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish."
+
+"Well, I don't like it; but I suppose it must be," said I. "When do we
+start?"
+
+"You are not coming."
+
+"Then you are not going," said I. "I give you my word of honour--and I
+never broke it in my life--that I will take a cab straight to the
+police-station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure
+with you."
+
+"You can't help me."
+
+"How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my
+resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and even
+reputations."
+
+Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on the
+shoulder.
+
+"Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for
+some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.
+You know, Watson, I don't mind confessing to you that I have always had an
+idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. This is the chance
+of my lifetime in that direction. See here!" He took a neat little leather
+case out of a drawer, and opening it he exhibited a number of shining
+instruments. "This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with
+nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable keys, and every
+modern improvement which the march of civilization demands. Here, too, is
+my dark lantern. Everything is in order. Have you a pair of silent shoes?"
+
+"I have rubber-soled tennis shoes."
+
+"Excellent. And a mask?"
+
+"I can make a couple out of black silk."
+
+"I can see that you have a strong natural turn for this sort of thing. Very
+good; do you make the masks. We shall have some cold supper before we
+start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall drive as far as Church
+Row. It is a quarter of an hour's walk from there to Appledore Towers. We
+shall be at work before midnight. Milverton is a heavy sleeper and retires
+punctually at ten-thirty. With any luck we should be back here by two, with
+the Lady Eva's letters in my pocket."
+
+Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to be two
+theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked up a hansom and
+drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid off our cab, and with our
+great-coats buttoned up, for it was bitterly cold and the wind seemed to
+blow through us, we walked along the edge of the Heath.
+
+"It's a business that needs delicate treatment," said Holmes. "These
+documents are contained in a safe in the fellow's study, and the study is
+the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other hand, like all these stout,
+little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric sleeper.
+Agatha--that's my _fiancée_--says it is a joke in the servants' hall that
+it's impossible to wake the master. He has a secretary who is devoted to
+his interests and never budges from the study all day. That's why we are
+going at night. Then he has a beast of a dog which roams the garden. I met
+Agatha late the last two evenings, and she locks the brute up so as to give
+me a clear run. This is the house, this big one in its own grounds. Through
+the gate--now to the right among the laurels. We might put on our masks
+here, I think. You see, there is not a glimmer of light in any of the
+windows, and everything is working splendidly."
+
+With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of the most
+truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent, gloomy house. A
+sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined by several
+windows and two doors.
+
+"That's his bedroom," Holmes whispered. "This door opens straight into the
+study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as locked, and we
+should make too much noise getting in. Come round here. There's a
+greenhouse which opens into the drawing-room."
+
+The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the
+key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door behind
+us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The thick, warm air of
+the conservatory and the rich, choking fragrance of exotic plants took us
+by the throat. He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past
+banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable
+powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand
+in one of his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had
+entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He
+felt his way among the furniture, opened another door, and closed it behind
+us. Putting out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the wall, and I
+understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it, and Holmes very
+gently opened a door upon the right-hand side. Something rushed out at us
+and my heart sprang into my mouth, but I could have laughed when I realized
+that it was the cat. A fire was burning in this new room, and again the air
+was heavy with tobacco smoke. Holmes entered on tip-toe, waited for me to
+follow, and then very gently closed the door. We were in Milverton's study,
+and a _portière_ at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.
+
+It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door I saw
+the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even if it had
+been safe, to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was a heavy curtain,
+which covered the bay window we had seen from outside. On the other side
+was the door which communicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the
+centre, with a turning chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a large
+bookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner between
+the bookcase and the wall there stood a tall green safe, the firelight
+flashing back from the polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole
+across and looked at it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom, and
+stood with slanting head listening intently. No sound came from within.
+Meanwhile it had struck me that it would be wise to secure our retreat
+through the outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement it was neither
+locked nor bolted! I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his masked
+face in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently as surprised
+as I.
+
+"I don't like it," he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. "I can't
+quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose."
+
+"Can I do anything?"
+
+"Yes; stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the inside,
+and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way, we can get
+through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these window curtains
+if it is not. Do you understand?"
+
+I nodded and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear had passed away,
+and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were
+the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our
+mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the
+villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of
+the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our
+dangers. With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of
+instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a
+surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes
+was a particular hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him
+to be confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held
+in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of his
+dress-coat--he had placed his overcoat on a chair--Holmes laid out two
+drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the centre door with
+my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for any emergency; though,
+indeed, my plans were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were
+interrupted. For half an hour Holmes worked with concentrated energy,
+laying down one tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength
+and delicacy of the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad
+green door swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper
+packets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it
+was hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark
+lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to
+switch on the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and
+then in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up his
+coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window
+curtain, motioning me to do the same.
+
+[Illustration: "HE STOOD WITH SLANTING HEAD LISTENING INTENTLY."]
+
+It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed his
+quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door
+slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the
+measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in the
+passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened. There
+was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed once
+more, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to our nostrils.
+Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards, backwards and
+forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a creak from a
+chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard
+the rustle of papers.
+
+So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division of
+the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of
+Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations.
+Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded
+back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely miscalculated his
+movements, that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had been
+sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wing of the
+house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with
+its shining patch of baldness, was in the immediate foreground of our
+vision. He was leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs
+outstretched, a long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He
+wore a semi-military smoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet
+collar. In his hand he held a long legal document, which he was reading in
+an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lips as he did
+so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in his composed bearing and
+his comfortable attitude.
+
+I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if
+to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his
+mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only too obvious from my
+position, that the door of the safe was imperfectly closed, and that
+Milverton might at any moment observe it. In my own mind I had determined
+that if I were sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his
+eye, I would at once spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion
+him, and leave the rest to Holmes. But Milverton never looked up. He was
+languidly interested by the papers in his hand, and page after page was
+turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when
+he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room; but
+before he had reached the end of either there came a remarkable development
+which turned our thoughts into quite another channel.
+
+Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and once
+he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture of impatience. The idea,
+however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never
+occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda
+outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound
+was repeated, and then there came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose
+and opened it.
+
+"Well," said he, curtly, "you are nearly half an hour late."
+
+So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of the nocturnal vigil
+of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I had closed
+the slit between the curtains as Milverton's face had turned in our
+direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it once more. He had
+resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the
+corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric
+light, there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle
+drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the
+lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.
+
+"Well," said Milverton, "you've made me lose a good night's rest, my dear.
+I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come any other time--eh?"
+
+[Illustration: "YOU COULDN'T COME ANY OTHER TIME--EH?"]
+
+The woman shook her head.
+
+"Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard mistress you
+have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the girl, what are you
+shivering about? That's right! Pull yourself together! Now, let us get down
+to business." He took a note from the drawer of his desk. "You say that you
+have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell
+them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I
+should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are really good
+specimens----Great heavens, is it you?"
+
+The woman without a word had raised her veil and dropped the mantle from
+her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which confronted
+Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark eyebrows shading hard,
+glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous
+smile.
+
+"It is I," she said; "the woman whose life you have ruined."
+
+Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "You were so very
+obstinate," said he. "Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure
+you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business,
+and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not
+pay."
+
+"So you sent the letters to my husband, and he, the noblest gentleman that
+ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace--he broke his
+gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through
+that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as
+you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips
+from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was
+that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone.
+Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say?"
+
+"Don't imagine that you can bully me," said he, rising to his feet. "I have
+only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested.
+But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as
+you came, and I will say no more."
+
+The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly
+smile on her thin lips.
+
+"You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more
+hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take
+that, you hound, and that!--and that!--and that!--and that!"
+
+She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel
+into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He
+shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and
+clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another
+shot, and rolled upon the floor. "You've done me," he cried, and lay still.
+The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned
+face. She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp
+rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and the avenger was gone.
+
+No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate; but
+as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's shrinking body I
+was about to spring out, when I felt Holmes's cold, strong grasp upon my
+wrist. I understood the whole argument of that firm, restraining grip--that
+it was no affair of ours; that justice had overtaken a villain; that we had
+our own duties and our own objects which were not to be lost sight of. But
+hardly had the woman rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent
+steps, was over at the other door. He turned the key in the lock. At the
+same instant we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet.
+The revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness Holmes
+slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters,
+and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the
+safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the
+door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter which had been the messenger
+of death for Milverton lay, all mottled with his blood, upon the table.
+Holmes tossed it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the
+outer door, passed through after me, and locked it on the outside. "This
+way, Watson," said he; "we can scale the garden wall in this direction."
+
+I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly.
+Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door was
+open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was alive
+with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the
+veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to know the ground
+perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small
+trees, I close at his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It
+was a six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the top and
+over. As I did the same I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my
+ankle; but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. I
+fell upon my face among some bushes; but Holmes had me on my feet in an
+instant, and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead
+Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and
+listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off
+our pursuers and were safe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THEN HE STAGGERED TO HIS FEET AND RECEIVED ANOTHER SHOT."]
+
+We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after the
+remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland
+Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good morning. May I ask if you are
+very busy just now?"
+
+"Not too busy to listen to you."
+
+"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you might
+care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only last night
+at Hampstead."
+
+"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"
+
+"A murder--a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you are
+upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you would step
+down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your advice. It is no
+ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time,
+and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held
+papers which he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been
+burned by the murderers. No article of value was taken, as it is probable
+that the criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to
+prevent social exposure."
+
+[Illustration: "FOLLOWING HIS GAZE I SAW THE PICTURE OF A REGAL AND STATELY
+LADY IN COURT DRESS."]
+
+"Criminals!" said Holmes. "Plural!"
+
+"Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured
+red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their description; it's ten
+to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the
+second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away after a struggle.
+He was a middle-sized, strongly-built man--square jaw, thick neck,
+moustache, a mask over his eyes."
+
+"That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "Why, it might be a
+description of Watson!"
+
+"It's true," said the inspector, with much amusement. "It might be a
+description of Watson."
+
+"Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The fact is
+that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one of the most
+dangerous men in London, and that I think there are certain crimes which
+the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private
+revenge. No, it's no use arguing. I have made up my mind. My sympathies are
+with the criminals rather than with the victim, and I will not handle this
+case."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had
+witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most
+thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, from his vacant eyes and
+his abstracted manner, of a man who is striving to recall something to his
+memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang to his
+feet. "By Jove, Watson; I've got it!" he cried. "Take your hat! Come with
+me!" He hurried at his top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street,
+until we had almost reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there
+stands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebrities and
+beauties of the day. Holmes's eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and
+following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in Court
+dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at that
+delicately-curved nose, at the marked eyebrows, at the straight mouth, and
+the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath as I read the
+time-honoured title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had
+been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as we
+turned away from the window.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by A. Conan Doyle, in the United States of America.
+
+
+
+
+_The Romance of the Bronze Duke._
+
+
+On a green mound commanding Cæsar's Plain, Aldershot, a rider and his horse
+survey the landscape. Occasionally soldiers come up and salute
+them--sometimes singly, sometimes in companies, often in battalions. But
+the salute is never returned; both rider and horse remain rigid. The sun
+sets and finds them still at their post; it rises and they have never
+stirred. The explanation is simple--this giant horse and horseman are of
+bronze; they form the greatest equestrian group in the world.
+
+Yet the pair have not always been thus stationary. They have been thrice
+moved and may be moved thrice again. Perhaps in the watches of the night on
+Cæsar's Plain they are thinking of their past, and of the protracted
+episode which once shook the society of the British capital to its centre,
+and in which they played the chief part. Factions raged around them ere
+they left their humble birthplace in the Harrow Road, and for a time the
+bronze enjoyed far more celebrity than its original, the Iron Duke.
+
+[Illustration: SOLDIERS SALUTING THE DUKE'S STATUE, AS IT STANDS AT
+ALDERSHOT TO-DAY.
+
+_From a Photo. By Knight, Aldershot._]
+
+The story is well worth telling, for nobody remembers it now. Seventy years
+ago, although England had then no sculptors to speak of, there was a
+general passion for erecting statues. The statues were nearly all bad, of
+course, and to the decade between 1830 and 1840 the kingdom owes some of
+its worst atrocities in this department of art. About the time the late
+Queen came to the throne, a sculptor, Matthew Wyatt, was commissioned to
+execute a statue of George III. The result may be seen in Cockspur Street
+to-day. Critics complained that it was too small. The reproach greatly
+offended Wyatt, who roundly declared that he had not aimed at bigness, but
+that if size had been in question he was quite capable of modelling a
+statue larger than any Michael Angelo or the Indian idolmakers had ever
+attempted. He mentioned this to an ardent worshipper of the Duke of
+Wellington in the City, a Common Councilman named Simpson, who had already
+raised subscriptions for one Wellington equestrian group, now in front of
+the Royal Exchange. Simpson and Wyatt talked it over, and the result was
+the formation of a committee, headed by the Duke of Rutland, and the
+raising of fourteen thousand pounds for the erection of a memorial to the
+Duke in the West-end. This body duly handed the commission over to Wyatt as
+"in every respect eminently qualified to be entrusted with the proposed
+equestrian statue."
+
+On this point it was plain that there were two opinions prevalent. Wyatt
+now prepared to realize his boast, and boldly announced that the equestrian
+statue should be of Titanic proportions. As to the site of his handiwork
+thereby hangs a tale. Wyatt had a friend with whom he had quarrelled, named
+Decimus Burton. This Burton, an architect, had recently erected a mighty
+triumphal arch at the entrance to Green Park. It formed a great feature in
+the magnificent plan submitted to Parliament in 1827 for the
+"re-edification" of Buckingham Palace. In this costly design the above arch
+was to form the Royal entrance to the palace gardens, to be laid out to
+suit the rather luxurious taste of George IV.
+
+The arch was eighty feet high. Burton's original idea was to embellish the
+main piers with groups of trophies; to place the figure of a warrior on
+each stylobate; to enrich the base with a sculptural representation of an
+ancient triumph; to place a statue over each column; and various other
+embellishments. But all this ambitious plan was instantly shortened by
+Wyatt's declaring his intention of placing his colossal statue not in the
+middle of Hyde Park, or even of Green Park, or Kensington Gardens, but on
+the very summit of Burton's arch!
+
+The unfortunate architect was beside himself with rage at the suggestion.
+He protested, but he protested in vain. The complaisant committee had quite
+fallen in with Wyatt's idea. But it was not so the Government, the Royal
+Academy, and the Press. They heaped ridicule upon both the project and the
+sculptor. They roundly declared that it would ruin the unity and symmetry
+of his building. Then began an acrimonious discussion between the friends
+of Wyatt and the objectors to his proposed statue. All London divided
+itself into factions. The common topic of drawing room and dinner
+conversation was, "Are you for or against putting a gigantic Iron Duke on
+the top of the arch?" "Brazen impudence!" wrote Thackeray, himself an
+artist.
+
+Meanwhile, in the studio in the Harrow Road, opposite the Dudley Arms
+Tavern, the lucky sculptor had been proceeding with his task. He prepared
+several models and designs, and the sub-committee availed themselves of a
+model of the Hyde Park Corner arch to consider, which they did with the
+greatest attention, the position and relative size of the statue to be
+placed on the summit. Wyatt then prepared a drawing of the arch with the
+equestrian statue, of which the sub-committee approved.
+
+But at this point the Lords of the Treasury stepped in with an injunction.
+As the modelling and casting went on the battle raged. Macaulay wrote from
+India that the sculptor and his friends "ought to be in Bedlam"; his
+antagonist, Croker, inquired blandly "what a Whig Dissenter knew of high
+art." "High" art then became a joke. To the query, "What is the very
+_highest_ form of art?" the jocular answer was, "Wyatt's Duke." The
+newspapers between 1840 and 1846 contain innumerable references to and
+descriptions of the statue, and the progress it was making towards
+completion.
+
+We are told that the plaster of Paris used in the stupendous work
+considerably exceeded one hundred tons; it was formed upon a turn-plate, or
+revolving platform, upwards of twenty feet across, travelling upon forty
+rollers and weighing in itself several tons. The vastness of the model
+required certain precautions to ensure its integrity. To give strength to
+the body of the horse, a beam passed through it longitudinally, like a
+backbone from which spring traverse timbers, like the ribs of a ship. From
+the body of the horse was a line of iron bolts, beneath which, in the early
+stage of the modelling, were placed props for security in shifting the
+figure by means of the platform, so as to obtain the most desirable
+position for light, etc. To reach the different parts of the statue a
+travelling stage with a shifting floor was constructed, so that it might be
+adjusted to any height.
+
+The entire group represented the Duke of Wellington as he appeared on the
+field of Waterloo upon his favourite horse, Copenhagen. The Duke--at least
+so Wyatt declared, although this was denied--sat to the sculptor for the
+portrait, the warrior wearing his customary short cloak, which the artist
+draped so as to give it something of the grace of classic costume. But the
+sculptor's intentions generally surpassed his execution.
+
+For melting the sixty tons of bronze Wyatt erected two great furnaces. The
+first employed was capable of melting only twelve tons at a time, whereas
+it was found desirable to cast the remainder of the statue in larger and
+consequently fewer pieces. A record furnace was therefore built capable of
+melting twenty tons at a time.
+
+The mould and core being placed in the pit in the foundry, the bronze was
+run into it from the furnace, and the body of the horse and the lower
+portion of the rider were thus cast in two parts of about twenty tons each.
+These were magnificent castings, and the effect of so large a surface of
+molten compound as the twenty tons presented is described as very
+extraordinary. The statue, or rather group, was thus cast in about eight
+pieces. In each case the mould was placed in the pit embedded in sand,
+rammed in as tightly as possible; yet in casting the front of the horse, by
+some means six tons of metal escaped through the mould, the chest of the
+horse was left vacant, and the casting was consequently spoiled. In order
+that the legs of the horse should be capable of carrying the great weight
+they would have to sustain it was found necessary to cast them solid. The
+other portions of the work vary from one to three inches in thickness, with
+strong ribs internally to give additional strength. Its height approaches
+thirty feet, and such is the bulk of the horse that eight persons once
+dined within one-half of it.
+
+The following are some of the main dimensions:--
+
+                                        Ft.  in.
+Girth round the horse                   22    8
+Ditto arm of                             5    4
+From the horse's hocks to the ground     6    0
+From the horse's nose to the tail       26    0
+Length of head                           6    0
+Length of each ear                       2    4
+
+The group being cast in pieces as above, they were joined partly by
+screw-bolts two inches in thickness. Owing to the colossal size of the
+group there were, for some time, upwards of thirty men employed at once
+upon the bronze; and in case of any work being requisite to be done within
+the figure of the rider, the head was removed to allow the workmen to
+descend through the neck. The cleansing, chasing, and finishing occupied a
+considerable time.
+
+[Illustration: THE STATUE AT MR. WYATT'S FOUNDRY.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+At last, after being repeatedly canvassed in Parliament and in the country
+for six years, provoking a greater degree of heat than perhaps any statue
+in the world had ever provoked before, the business was supposed to be
+temporarily settled by the authorities agreeing to allow the statue to be
+placed on the arch "on three weeks' probation," when, "if the location
+proved to be injudicious," it was to be removed. Whereat there was great
+joy at the sculptor's studio in the Harrow Road. The Duke of Rutland jumped
+into his carriage and flew thither himself to bear the glad tidings.
+
+"Once it's up," he is said to have cried, "the devil himself can't pull it
+down!"
+
+When the gigantic horse and rider was all but finished it was hoisted out
+of the pit in the foundry and placed upon an enormous car, built especially
+for the purpose at Woolwich Dockyard. The roof of the foundry had first to
+be removed and one of the walls completely demolished to allow of the entry
+of the car, which weighed no less than twenty tons. Its wheels were twenty
+feet in diameter, with radiating cast-iron spokes, and were surmounted by a
+platform within which the statue was slung. The feet of the horse rested
+upon ledges, so close to the ground as to preclude any possibility of
+danger from a fall. As it stood thus it was visited during three weeks by
+many hundreds of persons, including most of the celebrities of the day,
+such as Lytton, Disraeli, and Dickens.
+
+Outside every day saw a vast concourse of people watching the movements of
+the workmen. On the 28th September, at dusk, by means of chain windlasses,
+ropes, pulleys, inclined planes, plank tramways, etc., the biggest
+carriage in the world and the largest statue were moved in proximity to the
+gate, in readiness for the event of the next day.
+
+[Illustration: _From the "Illustrated London News._"
+
+THE GRAND PROCESSION OF THE STATUE--TURNING FROM PARK LANE.]
+
+All London was agog on September 29th, 1846. As it was understood by the
+public that the removal would take place as early as ten o'clock, long
+before that hour the Harrow Road and the streets adjoining were thronged
+with well-dressed people. Seats were erected in various places, for which
+shillings and half-crowns were cheerfully paid. Even the roofs and windows
+in the neighbourhood of Mr. Wyatt's foundry were crowded with anxious
+spectators. The whole line of route from the Harrow Road to Piccadilly,
+was, indeed, one scene of excitement, the windows being mostly filled with
+company and presenting a scene of much gaiety and animation. Paddington
+Green was filled, and Hyde Park was crowded towards the Drive and principal
+walk.
+
+The procession included a large number of troops--Life Guards, Fusiliers,
+Grenadiers, Coldstreams, together with no fewer than four bands. In brief,
+the worshippers of the Duke omitted nothing to make the occasion a triumph.
+Besides, the weather was superb.
+
+[Illustration: "PUNCH'S" SKIT ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+_Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of "Punch."_]
+
+The miserable pageant prophesied by _Punch_ in Leech's amusing drawing was
+nothing like the reality. Leech afterwards drew a mirth-provoking picture
+of the effect of the statue's passing down Edgware Road upon a gentleman
+shaving in the seclusion of an upper window, which we here reproduce.
+
+[Illustration: AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN, WHILST SHAVING, IN THE
+EDGWARE ROAD--ANOTHER "PUNCH" JOKE ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+_Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of "Punch."_]
+
+Arrived at the arch, where Royal Princes, dukes, earls, and innumerable
+peeresses were assembled, it was found too late that day to hoist the
+mighty bronze to its resting-place. In fact, the ceremony took three days
+before it was concluded.
+
+While all this was happening, on the first and last days the happy
+sculptor, Wyatt, was holding high revel at his studio, his friends
+partaking of a banquet at his expense.
+
+Nobody dreamed of trouble. "Once up--the statue is safe," was the
+watchword. But the Royal Academy and the Office of Woods and Forests had
+resolved that the fate of this huge "solecism" was sealed. It had taken six
+years to set up; it should come down in three weeks! By October 1st, 1846,
+the sixty tons had been hoisted to the top of the one hundred and fifteen
+foot scaffold and placed in position by the sculptor himself. A few days
+later the fatal message arrived: "The Government decides that your statue
+must come down within three weeks." No wonder the sculptor and his friends
+were panic-stricken. How were they to be saved? There was only one way--by
+intercession to the Duke to save his bronze counterfeit.
+
+[Illustration: HOISTING THE STATUE TO THE TOP OF THE ARCH.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+We have not space to tell the full story; the Iron Duke spake the word and
+the Government dared not deny him his request.
+
+For nearly thirty-seven years the great statue remained on the summit of
+the triumphal arch opposite Apsley House. But never during a moment of that
+time was it unassailed by hostile criticism. Foreigners were said to point
+at it with scorn. Albert Smith declared that saturnine men came to laugh at
+it "who had never laughed before." But it was not so much that it was a
+badly-modelled statue as that it had given rise to prejudices and
+antagonisms which long survived both Duke and sculptor. So it happened that
+in 1883, when alterations were projected in the locality, the Duke at last
+was made to descend from his eminence. It was a tremendous piece of
+work--both the Duke and Copenhagen had to be decapitated and otherwise
+mutilated--but the gradual descent was accomplished, witnessed by vast
+multitudes. Wyatt's enemies had triumphed.
+
+The question arose as to where the statue should be placed. "In the
+furnace," said many zealous brother sculptors. Ruskin boldly counselled its
+destruction. But it was decided that a good place for it would be in St.
+James's Park, opposite the Horse Guards' Parade. The removal thither to
+this obscure spot was accordingly begun. But the old antagonism apparently
+revived. The Horse Guards complained; the Duke of Cambridge thought it an
+eyesore. Lord Randolph Churchill, whose way between Westminster and St.
+James's led through the park, said he was "driven to frequent Whitehall,"
+and predicted that the big bronze Duke would bring about the fall of the
+Government. Sir Frederick Leighton, P.R.A., and Lord Hardinge defended the
+new position, but the former was asked: "How would you like sixty tons of
+bad bronze opposite the Royal Academy?"
+
+This time the old Duke of Wellington--thirty years in his grave--could give
+no sign. Rider and man waited immobile for further orders.
+"Forward--march!" finally, in 1885, came the command from head-quarters,
+and slowly, with difficulty, and with Copenhagen with his legs in the air,
+the new journey of forty miles began.
+
+Such is the story of a statue. Where will it end? Two or three years ago a
+distinguished general, whose wife is also a distinguished painter of
+soldiers and horses, remarked cruelly that "Aldershot would be delightful
+if it wasn't for that--ogre."
+
+And as he spoke, from force of habit he grimly raised two fingers to his
+temple, saluting the insulted Field-Marshal whose mighty shadow now darkens
+Cæsar's Plain.
+
+Where will it end?
+
+[Illustration: THE STATUE IN THE POSITION WHICH RAISED SUCH A STORM OF
+OPPOSITION.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+
+
+
+_Two and a Tiger._
+
+BY R. E. VERNÈDE.
+
+
+Nare had enjoyed himself at the picnic until the baronet arrived, in spite
+of being rather an outsider among these local people, who all knew one
+another from the cradle. He had enjoyed himself in spite, too, of Mrs.
+Corcoran, who by many signs and cool politenesses had shown him that her
+daughter Judith had no need and--as she hinted very plainly--no inclination
+for his attentions. "Dear Sir Henry will be arriving soon, surely?" Mrs.
+Corcoran had said in his presence to their hostess, and little Mrs.
+Harrington, who had been very kind to Nare in that capacity, replied that
+of course Sir Henry would be arriving soon, but that in the meantime the
+rector (a mild man with a capacity for being held in awe) was very anxious
+to consult Mrs. Corcoran on the subject of an altar-cloth. Mrs. Corcoran
+was unable to resist the invitation. Whether the rector was as grateful for
+Sir Henry Pove's arrival as Nare was ungrateful, nobody can say, but there
+is no denying that the rector looked a little browbeaten by that time.
+
+The baronet came on a tricycle, looking reedy in his light suit, but very
+dignified.
+
+"I have accomplished the distance from Wetherwell in one hour and a
+quarter," he announced, "which I think is very fair--very fair."
+
+"Wonderful," said Mrs. Corcoran, frowning at her silent daughter.
+
+"Incredible," Nare suggested. "It must be eight miles."
+
+"I thought it incumbent upon me to ride pretty fast," continued Sir Henry,
+"because a rather alarming thing has occurred."
+
+A chorus of "Ohs!" wavered about the gratified tricyclist.
+
+[Illustration: "A RATHER ALARMING THING HAS OCCURRED."]
+
+"What is it?" asked Mrs. Corcoran.
+
+"No, don't tell!" cried Mrs. Harrington; "not if it's horrid. I won't have
+my picnic spoilt. Be a gem, now!"
+
+"But, my dear madam"--Sir Henry's look was a rebuke to all trifling--"I
+dare not take it upon myself to leave you all in suspense about a matter
+which cannot in any event be lightly treated. When I say that a travelling
+menagerie at Sutley has lost one of its wild beasts early this morning, and
+that up to the time I started from Wetherwell no news of its recapture had
+come to hand----"
+
+He paused for an effect, and several ladies said: "Good heavens!" Mrs.
+Corcoran added:--
+
+"And you rode over the moor alone?"
+
+A pleased smile was her reward.
+
+"I could do no less--yes--some say a puma; others a bear." Sir Henry
+rapidly answered a string of questions.
+
+"Perhaps it was a llama," suggested Miss Corcoran.
+
+"Judith!"
+
+"They're very dangerous, mother."
+
+"But in any case I'm very much annoyed," Mrs. Harrington announced. "Now
+everybody will want to go home, I suppose, though really Sutley is fourteen
+miles away, and--well, at any rate, we've all had something to eat. Sir
+Henry, come and be rewarded with lobster before we start."
+
+I think it must have been because Mrs. Harrington thought she owed her
+annoyance as much to the baronet's alarmist importunity as to the
+carelessness of the menagerie owners that she dealt so kindly with Nare
+afterwards. For it was settled that the picnickers should disband almost
+immediately instead of going home by moonlight--as Mrs. Harrington had
+desired--and in the bustle that ensued, while the rector was heading a
+search-party, organized by Mrs. Corcoran, to recover a shawl she was
+positive she had brought with her, and the baronet was being regaled on all
+the choicest delicacies that could be set out on cabbage-leaves by the more
+insatiably curious ladies, Mrs. Harrington drew Nare and Miss Corcoran
+aside.
+
+"Now, Judith," she said, "we shall all be starting soon, but I want you to
+be kind and show Mr. Nare the Mill on the way back."
+
+"Oh, but----" Judith began.
+
+"We shall catch you up in quite a short time, and Mr. Nare will protect you
+against the----"
+
+"Llama," said Nare.
+
+"Elephant or whatever it is," said Mrs. Harrington, smiling. "I'm quite
+sure he will. And you'll be doing me a favour. I've promised Mr. Nare
+should see the Mill, and I'll explain to your mother."
+
+"Very well," said Judith. "Perhaps we ought to start at once, then?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Harrington.
+
+That is why, when, some time later, Sir Henry having replenished himself
+and found all preparations made for going homeward, and having begun to
+wonder where Miss Corcoran, whom he had hoped to escort, had vanished to,
+Nare found himself on the moor with that young lady just drawing near to
+the Mill, the sight of which he had been promised. It was just after
+sundown then, pleasantly cool and hazy, with nothing but a noise of stray
+bees to disturb the silence. Miss Corcoran had had her parasol furled for
+several minutes, so that Nare, who was slightly behind with the picnic
+basket which Mrs. Harrington had thrust upon him "in case Judith should
+want a sandwich on the way, Mr. Nare"--commanded an uninterrupted and
+delightful view of the curls on her neck.
+
+"Perfect," he said, and she, fancying he referred to the weather, perhaps,
+agreed.
+
+[Illustration: "'I DON'T THINK YOU'RE WALKING VERY FAST, MR. NARE,' SHE
+SAID."]
+
+"But I don't think you're walking very fast, Mr. Nare," she said, severely.
+"And when I promised Mrs. Harrington to show you the Mill, I did think
+you'd walk a little quicker, even though you are a Londoner."
+
+"Don't be unkind," said Nare. "Recollect that your foot is on your native
+heath, while mine----"
+
+"But we shall miss the others."
+
+"We started first."
+
+"Not more than half an hour, and we've come right off the road on to the
+moor and----"
+
+"But it's such a jolly afternoon."
+
+"Evening."
+
+"And it would be a sin to stampede over these attractive buttercups," Nare
+pleaded.
+
+Miss Corcoran relented with a little laugh.
+
+"Really, you are Cockneyer than I thought. Buttercups! It's gorse."
+
+"Same kind of yellow," said Nare.
+
+"And there's the Mill. Now we must hurry."
+
+Woman, it has been said, disposes, but that depends on circumstances. Nare
+had no desire to hurry, but hurried he certainly would have been if it were
+not for the episode that occurred at that moment. Afterwards he was
+grateful for it, but for the time being he would even have preferred
+hurrying. For, just as he was taking a last look at the Mill, something
+shadowy, but alive, came stalking slowly away from it towards them.
+
+Involuntarily Nare whistled. In the hazy twilight it was not easy to
+distinguish shapes exactly, and the desolate moorland with the black bare
+Mill frowning in its midst, only a single skeleton sail left to show for
+what purpose it had been built centuries ago, and the utter silence, except
+for the homing bees, no doubt tended to ghostly thoughts. But either Nare
+was dreaming or----
+
+"Whatever is that?" cried Miss Corcoran, suddenly catching sight of it. She
+put a startled hand on his arm, and Nare regained his cheerfulness.
+
+"This Cockney suggests that it's a cow--a stray cow."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Probably an Alderney," Nare pursued, "with pink eyes and----"
+
+The creature was making towards them on the circumference of a circle, and
+as Nare talked he walked slowly towards the Mill. There must be some kind
+of shelter there.
+
+"And crumpled horns," Nare continued.
+
+"But this isn't our way, Mr. Nare."
+
+The girl spoke in a protesting tone, but without giving any sign of a
+desire to stop. Indeed, she went rather faster and did not look behind her.
+The Alderney was a little behind them now.
+
+"Don't you think we ought to----"
+
+"G-r-r-r-r!" A noise, thunderous and snarling, interrupted her in the
+middle of a sentence. Nare was looking back.
+
+"How horrible!"
+
+"Perhaps it wants to be milked"--Nare spoke without turning his head--"or
+it's hungry. I think you'd better go into the Mill, please."
+
+"You'll come?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+[Illustration: "MISS CORCORAN GATHERED UP HER SKIRTS AND RAN."]
+
+And with that Miss Corcoran gathered up her skirts and ran. Nare followed
+with one eye on the enemy in the rear. The beast had stopped in its
+circling and was glaring after them.
+
+"As fast as you can!"
+
+The girl heard Nare talking to her, and felt in a dream. A second growl
+rose and seemed to shake the rotten timbers of the Mill as she ran into it.
+
+"Up the ladder!"
+
+There was a nine-foot ladder, shaky, with rat-gnawed rungs, leading through
+a trap on to the first floor of the Mill from the ground. And Miss Corcoran
+went up it swiftly, with gratitude in her heart to the rats for not having
+gnawed it through, since there was no door to the Mill wherewith to bolt
+out undesirable company. The Mill seemed to be echoing still with that
+growl as she turned at the top and, kneeling, found Nare ascending after
+her through the narrow hole. She said nothing until he had got up and tried
+to unfix the ladder without success. Then, as he desisted:--
+
+"Mr. Nare," she said, "was it a--a--tiger?"
+
+Nare put down his picnic basket with an injured air.
+
+"If it wasn't," he said, "I don't know what it was. But I'm beginning to
+think you're right, and that I don't know the country. I certainly thought
+tigers were extinct. If they're not, I don't think it's fair to ask an
+unfortunate Londoner out into the wilds and arm him with nothing better
+than a picnic basket."
+
+He rattled on to give the girl time to recover herself. He was a little
+afraid of hysterics, which would have been pardonable but unavailing. She
+seemed to suspect his fear, for she mustered a smile and said:--
+
+"I don't think I'm going to be foolish. Tell me, please, what do you think
+we ought to do?"
+
+That was exactly what Nare did not know. Looking down through the trap, he
+was conscious of a pair of fierce yellow eyes glaring up at him.
+
+"A good deal depends on the tiger," he said. "As this is one from a
+menagerie it may know how to behave itself in company, but--isn't there a
+top floor to this Mill?"
+
+There was, and another ladder leading to it. And Miss Corcoran, followed by
+Nare, reached it in less time than it takes to tell. The tiger had reared
+its paws on to the lower ladder and delivered itself, of another terrific
+growl.
+
+"I--I didn't know they could climb," said Miss Corcoran, faintly. "Oh!"
+
+A scuffling noise accompanied by a groaning of wood was what they heard,
+and then a soft padding of feet in the room they had just deserted.
+Apparently this tiger could climb.
+
+"The deuce!" said Nare, beneath his breath. He had never in his life been
+in a more unpleasant situation--never, indeed, in anything like it. At
+first the thing had seemed like some burlesque nightmare, but now the
+burlesque was going out of it. What could one do to a tiger?
+
+He sat cross-legged over the trap, reflecting and listening to the pad, pad
+below. If only there were a cover to the trap, but there was none. His
+companion was looking out of a sort of small slit in the side of the Mill
+that had been made to serve the purpose of a window once, hiding her tears,
+Nare fancied. It was too narrow to get through, and in any case there would
+be a drop of twenty or thirty feet. Half unconsciously Nare began to unpack
+the picnic basket which he had carried along from room to room. He had some
+vague idea of throwing the tiger sandwiches as a sop. "Buns, cucumber
+sandwiches, a packet of salt. Do you see anything, Sister Anne?" He broke
+off enumerating the contents of the basket, seeing that Miss Corcoran had
+started.
+
+"I--no----"
+
+"A chocolate cake--tea--pepper--pepper----"
+
+"Yes, I do," Miss Corcoran suddenly burst out. "There's someone
+coming--this way. He's--he's on a--it's Sir Henry."
+
+In spite of the presence of the tiger and the diversion likely to be caused
+by the arrival of the baronet, Nare felt a trifle jealous. If the diversion
+were caused it would be to the baronet's credit, that was certain, and he
+sat over the trap, aimlessly untying the packet marked pepper, while he
+listened to the parley that Miss Corcoran began from the slit in the Mill
+wall.
+
+A bicycle bell rung in a dignified manner announced the baronet's approach.
+
+"Sir Henry!"
+
+Nare could hear the brake applied before the baronet's thin, piping voice
+called back:--
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+"It's I--Judith Corcoran--and Mr. Nare. We're in the Mill--and----"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+Suspicion was plain in the baronet's "Indeed!" Nare lost the next few words
+in trying to catch a sound of the padding feet below.
+
+"And the animal that escaped that you told us of--is here--it's a tiger!"
+
+An unpleasant, high-pitched laugh greeted Miss Corcoran's explanation--a
+laugh that showed Sir Henry in about as incredulous a frame of mind as a
+jealous man might be.
+
+"Ah!" he sniggered. "What charming company! Two--and a tiger!"
+
+"G-r-r-r-r!"
+
+Nare had just risen in a fury of indignation to throw something--anything
+that could be got through the window--at the baronet's head, when that
+tremendous growl came, followed by the creaking and groaning of wood. The
+tiger was ascending to their last retreat. In a whirling fashion Nare was
+conscious of this, and of Miss Corcoran's pale face, as he stood once more
+over the trap. From outside came a sound of frantic pedalling, as though
+Sir Henry had forgotten his scepticism and was wheeling round in order to
+be off. Otherwise the stillness was intolerable; and in the middle of it
+Nare, his fingers tearing idly at the white-papered packet in his hands,
+suddenly found himself looking into those great yellow eyes, not three feet
+away. And at that, his fingers relaxing, the packet and its contents fell
+plump into the tiger's face.
+
+[Illustration: "NARE SUDDENLY FOUND HIMSELF LOOKING INTO THOSE GREAT YELLOW
+EYES."]
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+A swishing, sneezing noise, as of a score of cats under a hose, a heavy
+thud, a downward galloping, pad and patter, and the tiger was gone. It had
+found an ounce of pepper in its eyes and nostrils as unpleasant as it was
+unexpected.
+
+"Pepper's the thing," said Nare, devoutly, discovering a moment later that
+he was supporting Miss Corcoran in his arms.
+
+"Yes," said Judith, faintly; "I'm so glad----"
+
+Of what she did not say, but irrelevancy did not seem to matter.
+
+"Look!" cried Nare.
+
+Through the uncasemented window they could see in the fast-gathering dusk
+the long white path over the moor. It looked even whiter for the shadows
+all about, so that, visible at a distance of some quarter of a mile, was
+the bent figure of a tricyclist, all among the wheels, pedalling away for
+dear life. After him, and as if in pursuit, cantered a shadowy, four-legged
+thing, that tossed its head uneasily as it went and seemed to have no tail.
+
+"Tail's between its legs," said Nare. "So's Sir Henry's."
+
+"I hope it won't catch him," said Miss Judith, kindly, but without the
+intonation of extreme solicitude. After all, Sir Henry had a good start.
+"He is going fast," she added, critically, as he vanished over a distant
+ridge. "There goes the tiger."
+
+"We may as well be off too," said Nare, "before it comes back. Sir Henry by
+himself won't make much of a meal. Awfully jolly walk it's been."
+
+They went on, not too fast, in the opposite direction from that taken by
+the tiger.
+
+
+
+
+_The Best Comic Pictures._
+
+THE OPINION OF HUMOROUS ARTISTS.
+
+
+Humour is such an elusive quality, depending so much upon individual
+temperament, that it is difficult to say in what consists its absolute
+perfection. We know what makes us laugh most; but do we know what will make
+another laugh most? Yet after all this is true of every art. Why should we
+not have _chefs d'oevure_ of pictorial comedy?
+
+Suppose any reader of THE STRAND MAGAZINE with a normal sense of humour
+were asked, "What is the funniest picture you remember ever to have seen?"
+Would he not ransack his memory--would he not turn to the files of _Punch_,
+to the comic almanacs, to such examples of foreign pictorial humour as had
+chanced to come in his way--and end by declaring that it was impossible to
+make any selection at all in such a wilderness of mirth-provoking designs,
+or, having hit upon one, to find it, upon re-inspection, to be no longer as
+funny as he thought it at the time--years ago?
+
+But in quite a different case is another small class in the community.
+These are the authors and manufacturers of humorous pictures themselves.
+They, not only from having a special gift of comedy, but from having
+presumably studied, or been interested in, the work of other draughtsmen,
+might confidently be expected to know their own minds. And so to them the
+writer addressed the question, What was the funniest picture they had ever
+seen? What had a right to be considered a masterpiece of pictorial comedy?
+
+At the outset the writer must not forget to mention that a few years ago,
+in a confidential chat he had with the late Mr. Phil May, he was
+pleasurably surprised to learn the high esteem in which that gifted
+humorist held one of the earliest and greatest masters of pictorial comedy,
+James Gillray.
+
+[Illustration: "COMPANY SHOCKED AT A LADY GETTING UP TO RING THE BELL."--BY
+GILLRAY.
+
+SELECTED BY THE LATE MR. PHIL MAY AS THE BEST COMIC PICTURE].
+
+"There is nobody to-day to touch him," were May's words. "Look at his sweep
+of line and his astonishing mastery over the grotesque and ridiculous.
+There are pictures so extraordinarily funny that you can't laugh--'too
+funny for words,' if you catch what I mean." As he spoke he turned to a
+folio containing several specimens of Gillray's drawings. One in particular
+was, if too funny for words, not too funny to be laughed at, for May's
+smile broadened enormously as he held it up for inspection--"Company
+Shocked at a Lady Getting Up to Ring the Bell." "Now, I call that funny,"
+he said, "and it was, perhaps, a hundred times funnier a hundred years ago,
+when the characters were well-known people. There's nothing 'dates' so much
+as the average comic picture, especially a social caricature, but the fun
+of this is pretty fresh still." On the whole, most of Gillray's and
+Rowlandson's best work is a little too highly flavoured--too broad--for the
+taste of to-day.
+
+Passing along a half-century we come to John Leech, and thenceforward to a
+succession of great masters of pictorial fun--Wilhelm Büsch, Charles Keene,
+Du Maurier, Sambourne, Oberlander, Caran d'Ache, Phil May, Frederick Opper,
+Zimmerman, and Raven-Hill. To these names many--fully as
+distinguished--might be added, such as Forain, Gibson, and Graetz, but for
+pure fun those we have mentioned may be called the masters. Amongst their
+numerous productions ought to be found some sketch which deserves to be
+called the very funniest picture or set of pictures delineating a single
+humorous idea. Each artist has his own followers. We have seen Phil May
+singling out a drawing by Gillray as appealing to his sense of humour. The
+draughtsmen of to-day in this line of work in England doubtless count no
+cleverer men than Raven-Hill, Tom Browne, John Hassall, Leslie Willson,
+William Parkinson, Louis Wain, and Charles Harrison.
+
+Wilhelm Büsch was for years the chief comic draughtsman of the celebrated
+_Fliegende Blätter_--the German _Punch_. Not all his best work, however,
+was done for this paper, as Büsch illustrated and occasionally wrote
+numerous humorous brochures, which enjoyed a wide sale, and in his own
+opinion--according to one of his intimate friends whom we have
+consulted--he never achieved anything funnier than the pictures which
+accompanied a little book called "The Fools' Paradise," and the funniest
+drawings in that book are those which appear on this page.
+
+[Illustration: "A PIANOFORTE PERFORMANCE."--BY WILHELM BÜSCH.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LINLEY SAMBOURNE.]
+
+But now let us hear what Mr. Linley Sambourne has to say about the work of
+this artist:--
+
+"To attempt to even indicate the birthplace of the world's masterpiece of
+pictorial humour is beyond the capacity of a single individual. So very few
+can see humour with the same eyes or appreciation. What you seek has
+probably perished in past ages, together with its contemporaneous
+companions in a higher branch. To me, personally, some of the designs of
+the late Wilhelm Büsch, of Munich, seem to have more humour, if by that is
+meant fun, than anything I can remember having seen."
+
+[Illustration: UNDER HER BREATH.--MRS. CONLAN: "Whisht, Pat!"
+
+Pat: "Whisht, Dalia!"
+
+Mrs. Conlan: "Aise yure face. It's an upright we're havin' took."
+
+FROM THE NEW YORK "JUDGE."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. RAVEN-HILL.]
+
+Mr. Sambourne's clever colleague, Mr. Leonard Raven-Hill, finds "the very
+funniest picture" amongst the work of the American artist, Zimmerman.
+
+"For absolute comic humour," he writes, "no one has equalled Zimmerman, of
+the New York _Judge_, in my opinion. Charles Keene is, of course, miles
+ahead of any other man in quiet humour; but I can't think of any particular
+examples."
+
+Of Zimmerman's drawings Mr. Raven-Hill selects three, of which we herewith
+present what strikes us as the most comical.
+
+[Illustration: WIFE (to lion-tamer, who has been out late): "You coward!"
+
+FROM "PHIL MAY'S ANNUAL."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. TOM BROWNE.]
+
+Few comic artists are at once so prolific and so amusing as Mr. Tom Browne,
+who, in selecting the picture reproduced below, writes to us as follows:--
+
+"I have no hesitation in ascribing to the late Phil May some of the most
+delightful specimens of illustrated humour that have ever graced the
+British or any other Press; but to positively indicate what I consider to
+be that master's choicest joke or drawing is a difficult matter. Phil May
+had a very keen sense of humour; moreover, he was a master of line. He knew
+what a line would do better than any man ever did before him. He could
+seize on the essentials of a subject and adequately represent it in the
+fewest lines anyone had ever employed before. Yet nothing was lacking. And
+the lines and the forms they represented were always accurate. There was a
+lot of humour in the sketch of the lion-tamer which appeared in one of the
+winter annuals. The tamer of lions had been staying out late, and to avoid
+the furious attentions of his wrathful spouse had taken refuge in the
+lions' den. The aforesaid wrathful spouse was shaking her fist in front of
+the bars and crying out, 'You coward!'
+
+[Illustration: "A HAIR-RAISING STORY."--BY CARAN D'ACHE.
+
+FROM THE CARAN D'ACHE ALBUM, BY PERMISSION OF MM. PLON NOURRIT & CO.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LESLIE WILLSON.]
+
+"Quite a little masterpiece in its way was the sketch of the very tipsy
+newsman, who had the contents-bill of the special edition he was selling
+stuck on a sandwich board that covered his chest. In large letters on the
+contents-bill was printed, 'Result of the Cup.'
+
+"And there are others, scores of them, all good because they were Phil
+May's. In cold type they sound nothing. Phil May's pen made masterpieces of
+them all."
+
+An English black-and-white draughtsman, with an almost unique experience of
+pictorial comedy in Germany, America, and this country, is Mr. Leslie
+Willson, for years one of the chief artists of the New York _Judge_, and
+latterly art editor of _Pick-Me-Up_. Mr. Willson, with his wide experience
+of comic achievements, says:--
+
+"The very funniest pictures I ever saw were by that astonishingly clever
+Franco-Russian, Emmanuel Poiré, otherwise 'Caran d'Ache.' The particular
+set I have in mind depicted a scene in a barber's shop, where the
+customer's hair, standing on end from horror, defies all the barber's
+attempts to curl it. There are other funny things from Caran d'Ache's
+pencil, but this, I think, is the funniest." These are the drawings
+reproduced on the opposite page.
+
+[Illustration: PARROT: "Here he comes again. If he pulls another feather
+out I'll fly away!"
+
+BY H. GRATTAN IN THE "PELICAN."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. JOHN HASSALL.]
+
+Mr. John Hassall, whose work is familiar to all, writes to say:--
+
+"The most humorous drawing I have ever seen was in the Christmas number of
+the _Pelican_, some few years back, of a parrot with one feather sticking
+out of its tail--the rest bare--sitting on its perch, and a pot-boy in the
+background. Below was the inscription: 'Here he comes again. If he pulls
+another feather out I'll fly away!' It was by an actor, I fancy. For the
+most humorous artist I should plump for Zim. Zimmerman, who draws for New
+York _Judge_. About ten years ago his work was, to my mind, always
+exceedingly humorous."
+
+[Illustration: "AN INCIDENT IN THE MIDDLE AGES."--BY LINLEY SAMBOURNE IN
+"PUNCH."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. WILLIAM PARKINSON.]
+
+A draughtsman with a keen sense of humour is Mr. William Parkinson. He
+writes:--
+
+"For real funniness, I think A. B. Frost, the American, is very hard to
+beat; especially in some of his picture-stories in the last pages of
+_Scribner_ or the _Century_. I should call his book of drawings, 'The
+Good-Natured Man and the Bull Calf,' a masterpiece of humour. Linley
+Sambourne also is a master and an artist too, and some of his drawings for
+_Punch's_ Almanacks are real masterpieces. 'An Incident in the Middle
+Ages,' where a poor knight in armour is tormented under his mail shirt by a
+persistent----Well, the fancy is tickled as much as was the poor knight."
+
+[Illustration: An ensign who thought he would wake up another ensign for a
+lark--But he mistook the tent.
+
+FROM THE "GRAPHIC."--BY A. C. CORBOULD.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LOUIS WAIN.]
+
+There are not many pictorial comedians with a larger following than Mr.
+Louis Wain, who tells us:--
+
+"I like one of Corbould's drawings best which appeared in the _Graphic_ of
+some eighteen years back. A subaltern with a broom over his head was
+hitting out at a military tent with it where there appeared to be a
+protuberance. A second picture showed a fat general sitting up in bed
+rubbing his head and looking furiously mad. (He had had the broom on it.)
+This drawing has kept me happy through many a gloomy period, and set my own
+work going again."
+
+[Illustration: THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT.--OLD MR. WHAT'S-HIS-NAME: "Egad, I
+don't wonder at moustaches coming into fashion; for--eh? What? By Jove, it
+does improve one's appearance."
+
+BY JOHN LEECH IN "PUNCH'S ALMANACK," 1857.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. CHARLES HARRISON.]
+
+"With a pretty extensive knowledge of all the Continental and American
+artists," writes Mr. Charles Harrison, one of the regular contributors to
+_Punch_, "I think I have derived more amusement from John Leech than anyone
+else. In certain things he is, and so will ever remain, absolutely
+unapproachable, and I enclose what I consider one of his funniest efforts.
+At least, there is no effort in it, which is one of the charms in all
+Leech's work."
+
+
+
+
+_The Country of the Blind._
+
+BY H. G. WELLS.
+
+
+Three hundred miles and more from Chimborazo, one hundred from the snows of
+Cotopaxi, in the wildest wastes of Ecuador's Andes, there lies that
+mysterious mountain valley, cut off from all the world of men, the Country
+of the Blind. Long years ago that valley lay so far open to the world that
+men might come at last through frightful gorges and over an icy pass into
+its equable meadows, and thither indeed men came, a family or so of
+Peruvian half-breeds fleeing from the lust and tyranny of an evil Spanish
+ruler. Then came the stupendous outbreak of Mindobamba, when it was night
+in Quito for seventeen days, and the water was boiling at Yaguachi and all
+the fish floating dying even as far as Guayaquil; everywhere along the
+Pacific slopes there were landslips and swift thawings and sudden floods,
+and one whole side of the old Arauca crest slipped and came down in
+thunder, and cut off the Country of the Blind for ever from the exploring
+feet of men. But one of these early settlers had chanced to be on the
+hither side of the gorges when the world had so terribly shaken itself, and
+he perforce had to forget his wife and his child and all the friends and
+possessions he had left up there, and start life over again in the lower
+world. He started it again but ill, blindness overtook him, and he died of
+punishment in the mines; but the story he told begot a legend that lingers
+along the length of the Cordilleras of the Andes to this day.
+
+He told of his reason for venturing back from that fastness, into which he
+had first been carried lashed to a llama, beside a vast bale of gear, when
+he was a child. The valley, he said, had in it all that the heart of man
+could desire--sweet water, pasture, an even climate, slopes of rich brown
+soil with tangles of a shrub that bore an excellent fruit, and on one side
+great hanging forests of pine that held the avalanches high. Far overhead,
+on three sides, vast cliffs of grey-green rock were capped by cliffs of
+ice; but the glacier stream came not to them, but flowed away by the
+farther slopes, and only now and then huge ice masses fell on the valley
+side. In this valley it neither rained nor snowed, but the abundant springs
+gave a rich green pasture, that irrigation would spread over all the valley
+space. The settlers did well indeed there. Their beasts did well and
+multiplied, and but one thing marred their happiness. Yet it was enough to
+mar it greatly. A strange disease had come upon them and had made all the
+children born to them there--and, indeed, several older children
+also--blind. It was to seek some charm or antidote against this plague of
+blindness that he had with fatigue and danger and difficulty returned down
+the gorge. In those days, in such cases, men did not think of germs and
+infections, but of sins, and it seemed to him that the reason of this
+affliction must lie in the negligence of these priestless immigrants to set
+up a shrine so soon as they entered the valley. He wanted a shrine--a
+handsome, cheap, effectual shrine--to be erected in the valley; he wanted
+relics and such-like potent things of faith, blessed objects and mysterious
+medals and prayers. In his wallet he had a bar of native silver for which
+he would not account; he insisted there was none in the valley with
+something of the insistence of an inexpert liar. They had all clubbed their
+money and ornaments together, having little need for such treasure up
+there, he said, to buy them holy help against their ill. I figure this
+dim-eyed young mountaineer, sunburnt, gaunt, and anxious, hat brim clutched
+feverishly, a man all unused to the ways of the lower world, telling this
+story to some keen-eyed, attentive priest before the great convulsion; I
+can picture him presently seeking to return with pious and infallible
+remedies against that trouble, and the infinite dismay with which he must
+have faced the tumbled vastness where the gorge had once come out. But the
+rest of his story of mischances is lost to me, save that I know of his evil
+death after several years. Poor stray from that remoteness! The stream that
+had once made the gorge now bursts from the mouth of a rocky cave, and the
+legend his poor, ill-told story set going developed into the legend of a
+race of blind men somewhere "over there" one may still hear to-day.
+
+And amidst the little population of that now isolated and forgotten valley
+the disease ran its course. The old became groping and purblind, the young
+saw but dimly, and the children that were born to them saw never at all.
+But life was very easy in that snow-rimmed basin, lost to all the world,
+with neither thorns nor briers, with no evil insects nor any beasts save
+the gentle breed of llamas they had lugged and thrust and followed up the
+beds of the shrunken rivers in the gorges up which they had come. The
+seeing had become purblind so gradually that they scarcely noted their
+loss. They guided the sightless youngsters hither and thither until they
+knew the whole valley marvellously, and when at last sight died out among
+them the race lived on. They had even time to adapt themselves to the blind
+control of fire, which they made carefully in stoves of stone. They were a
+simple strain of people at the first, unlettered, only slightly touched
+with the Spanish civilization, but with something of a tradition of the
+arts of old Peru and of its lost philosophy. Generation followed
+generation. They forgot many things; they devised many things. Their
+tradition of the greater world they came from became mythical in colour and
+uncertain. In all things save sight they were strong and able, and
+presently chance sent one who had an original mind and who could talk and
+persuade among them, and then afterwards another. These two passed, leaving
+their effects, and the little community grew in numbers and in
+understanding, and met and settled social and economic problems that arose.
+Generation followed generation. Generation followed generation. There came
+a time when a child was born who was fifteen generations from that ancestor
+who went out of the valley with a bar of silver to seek God's aid, and who
+never returned. Thereabout it chanced that a man came into this community
+from the outer world. And this is the story of that man.
+
+He was a mountaineer from the country near Quito, a man who had been down
+to the sea and had seen the world, a reader of books in an original way, an
+acute and enterprising man, and he was taken on by a party of Englishmen
+who had come out to Ecuador to climb mountains, to replace one of their
+three Swiss guides who had fallen ill. He climbed here and he climbed
+there, and then came the attempt on Parascotopetl, the Matterhorn of the
+Andes, in which he was lost to the outer world. The story of that accident
+has been written a dozen times. Pointer's narrative is the best. He tells
+how the little party worked their difficult and almost vertical way up to
+the very foot of the last and greatest precipice, and how they built a
+night shelter amidst the snow upon a little shelf of rock, and, with a
+touch of real dramatic power, how presently they found Nuñez had gone from
+them. They shouted, and there was no reply; shouted and whistled, and for
+the rest of that night they slept no more.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY FOUND NUÑEZ HAD GONE FROM THEM."]
+
+As the morning broke they saw the traces of his fall. It seems impossible
+he could have uttered a sound. He had slipped eastward towards the unknown
+side of the mountain; far below he had struck a steep slope of snow, and
+ploughed his way down it in the midst of a snow avalanche. His track went
+straight to the edge of a frightful precipice, and beyond that everything
+was hidden. Far, far below, and hazy with distance, they could see trees
+rising out of a narrow, shut-in valley--the lost Country of the Blind. But
+they did not know it was the lost Country of the Blind, nor distinguish it
+in any way from any other narrow streak of upland valley. Unnerved by this
+disaster, they abandoned their attempt in the afternoon, and Pointer was
+called away to the war before he could make another attack. To this day
+Parascotopetl lifts an unconquered crest, and Pointer's shelter crumbles
+unvisited amidst the snows.
+
+And the man who fell survived.
+
+At the end of the slope he fell a thousand feet, and came down in the midst
+of a cloud of snow upon a snow-slope even steeper than the one above. Down
+this he was whirled, stunned and insensible, but without a bone broken in
+his body; and then at last came to gentler slopes, and at last rolled out
+and lay still, buried amidst a softening heap of the white masses that had
+accompanied and saved him. He came to himself with a dim fancy that he was
+ill in bed; then realized his position with a mountaineer's intelligence
+and worked himself loose and, after a rest or so, out until he saw the
+stars. He rested flat upon his chest for a space, wondering where he was
+and what had happened to him. He explored his limbs, and discovered that
+several of his buttons were gone and his coat turned over his head. His
+knife had gone from his pocket and his hat was lost, though he had tied it
+under his chin. He recalled that he had been looking for loose stones to
+raise his piece of the shelter wall. His ice-axe had disappeared.
+
+He decided he must have fallen, and looked up to see, exaggerated by the
+ghastly light of the rising moon, the tremendous flight he had taken. For a
+while he lay, gazing blankly at that vast, pale cliff towering above,
+rising moment by moment out of a subsiding tide of darkness. Its
+phantasmal, mysterious beauty held him for a space, and then he was seized
+with a paroxysm of sobbing laughter....
+
+After a great interval of time he became aware that he was near the lower
+edge of the snow. Below, down what was now a moon-lit and practicable
+slope, he saw the dark and broken appearance of rock-strewn turf. He
+struggled to his feet, aching in every joint and limb, got down painfully
+from the heaped loose snow about him, went downward until he was on the
+turf, and there dropped rather than lay beside a boulder, drank deep from
+the flask in his inner pocket, and instantly fell asleep....
+
+He was awakened by the singing of birds in the trees far below.
+
+He sat up and perceived he was on a little alp at the foot of a vast
+precipice that sloped only a little in the gully down which he and his snow
+had come. Over against him another wall of rock reared itself against the
+sky. The gorge between these precipices ran east and west and was full of
+the morning sunlight, which lit to the westward the mass of fallen mountain
+that closed the descending gorge. Below him it seemed there was a precipice
+equally steep, but behind the snow in the gully he found a sort of
+chimney-cleft dripping with snow-water, down which a desperate man might
+venture. He found it easier than it seemed, and came at last to another
+desolate alp, and then after a rock climb of no particular difficulty to a
+steep slope of trees. He took his bearings and turned his face up the
+gorge, for he saw it opened out above upon green meadows, among which he
+now glimpsed quite distinctly a cluster of stone huts of unfamiliar
+fashion. At times his progress was like clambering along the face of a
+wall, and after a time the rising sun ceased to strike along the gorge, the
+voices of the singing birds died away, and the air grew cold and dark about
+him. But the distant valley with its houses was all the brighter for that.
+He came presently to talus, and among the rocks he noted--for he was an
+observant man--an unfamiliar fern that seemed to clutch out of the crevices
+with intense green hands. He picked a frond or so and gnawed its stalk, and
+found it helpful.
+
+About midday he came at last out of the throat of the gorge into the plain
+and the sunlight. He was stiff and weary; he sat down in the shadow of a
+rock, filled up his flask with water from a spring and drank it down, and
+remained for a time, resting before he went on to the houses.
+
+They were very strange to his eyes, and indeed the whole aspect of that
+valley became, as he regarded it, queerer and more unfamiliar. The greater
+part of its surface was lush green meadow, starred with many beautiful
+flowers, irrigated with extraordinary care, and bearing evidence of
+systematic cropping piece by piece. High up and ringing the valley about
+was a wall, and what appeared to be a circumferential water channel, from
+which the little trickles of water that fed the meadow plants came, and on
+the higher slopes above this flocks of llamas cropped the scanty herbage.
+Sheds, apparently shelters or feeding-places for the llamas, stood against
+the boundary wall here and there. The irrigation streams ran together into
+a main channel down the centre of the valley, and this was enclosed on
+either side by a wall breast high. This gave a singularly urban quality to
+this secluded place, a quality that was greatly enhanced by the fact that a
+number of paths paved with black and white stones, and each with a curious
+little kerb at the side, ran hither and thither in an orderly manner. The
+houses of the central village were quite unlike the casual and
+higgledy-piggledy agglomeration of the mountain villages he knew; they
+stood in a continuous row on either side of a central street of astonishing
+cleanness, here and there their parti-coloured façade was pierced by a
+door, and not a solitary window broke their even frontage. They were
+parti-coloured with extraordinary irregularity, smeared with a sort of
+plaster that was sometimes grey, sometimes drab, sometimes slate-coloured
+or dark brown; and it was the sight of this wild plastering first brought
+the word "blind" into the thoughts of the explorer. "The good man who did
+that," he thought, "must have been as blind as a bat."
+
+He descended a steep place, and so came to the wall and channel that ran
+about the valley, near where the latter spouted out its surplus contents
+into the deeps of the gorge in a thin and wavering thread of cascade. He
+could now see a number of men and women resting on piled heaps of grass, as
+if taking a siesta, in the remoter part of the meadow, and nearer the
+village a number of recumbent children, and then nearer at hand three men
+carrying pails on yokes along a little path that ran from the encircling
+wall towards the houses. These latter were clad in garments of llama cloth
+and boots and belts of leather, and they wore caps of cloth with back and
+ear flaps. They followed one another in single file, walking slowly and
+yawning as they walked, like men who have been up all night. There was
+something so reassuringly prosperous and respectable in their bearing that
+after a moment's hesitation Nuñez stood forward as conspicuously as
+possible upon his rock, and gave vent to a mighty shout that echoed round
+the valley.
+
+[Illustration: "NUÑEZ STOOD FORWARD AS CONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE UPON HIS
+ROCK."]
+
+The three men stopped, and moved their heads as though they were looking
+about them. They turned their faces this way and that, and Nuñez
+gesticulated with freedom. But they did not appear to see him for all his
+gestures, and after a time, directing themselves towards the mountains far
+away to the right, they shouted as if in answer. Nuñez bawled again, and
+then once more, and as he gestured ineffectually the word "blind" came up
+to the top of his thoughts. "The fools must be blind," he said.
+
+When at last, after much shouting and wrath, Nuñez crossed the stream by a
+little bridge, came through a gate in the wall, and approached them, he was
+sure that they were blind. He was sure that this was the Country of the
+Blind of which the legends told. Conviction had sprung upon him, and a
+sense of great and rather enviable adventure. The three stood side by side,
+not looking at him, but with their ears directed towards him, judging him
+by his unfamiliar steps. They stood close together like men a little
+afraid, and he could see their eyelids closed and sunken, as though the
+very balls beneath had shrunk away. There was an expression near awe on
+their faces.
+
+"A man," one said, in hardly recognisable Spanish. "A man it is--a man or a
+spirit--coming down from the rocks."
+
+But Nuñez advanced with the confident steps of a youth who enters upon
+life. All the old stories of the lost valley and the Country of the Blind
+had come back to his mind, and through his thoughts ran this old proverb,
+as if it were a refrain:--
+
+"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."
+
+"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."
+
+And very civilly he gave them greeting. He talked to them and used his
+eyes.
+
+"Where does he come from, brother Pedro?" asked one.
+
+"Down out of the rocks."
+
+"Over the mountains I come," said Nuñez, "out of the country beyond
+there--where men can see. From near Bogota--where there are a hundred
+thousands of people, and where the city passes out of sight."
+
+"Sight?" muttered Pedro. "Sight?"
+
+"He comes," said the second blind man, "out of the rocks."
+
+The cloth of their coats Nuñez saw was curiously fashioned, each with a
+different sort of stitching.
+
+They startled him by a simultaneous movement towards him, each with a hand
+outstretched. He stepped back from the advance of these spread fingers.
+
+"Come hither," said the third blind man, following his motion and clutching
+him neatly.
+
+And they held Nuñez and felt him over, saying no word further until they
+had done so.
+
+"Carefully," he cried, with a finger in his eye, and found they thought
+that organ, with its fluttering lids, a queer thing in him. They went over
+it again.
+
+"A strange creature, Correa," said the one called Pedro. "Feel the
+coarseness of his hair. Like a llama's hair."
+
+"Rough he is as the rocks that begot him," said Correa, investigating
+Nuñez's unshaven chin with a soft and slightly moist hand. "Perhaps he will
+grow finer."
+
+Nuñez struggled a little under their examination, but they gripped him
+firm.
+
+"Carefully," he said again.
+
+"He speaks," said the third man. "Certainly he is a man."
+
+"Ugh!" said Pedro, at the roughness of his coat.
+
+"And you have come into the world?" asked Pedro.
+
+"_Out_ of the world. Over mountains and glaciers; right over above there,
+half-way to the sun. Out of the great, big world that goes down, twelve
+days' journey to the sea."
+
+They scarcely seemed to heed him. "Our fathers have told us men may be made
+by the forces of Nature," said Correa. "It is the warmth of things, and
+moisture, and rottenness--rottenness."
+
+"Let us lead him to the elders," said Pedro.
+
+"Shout first," said Correa, "lest the children be afraid. This is a
+marvellous occasion."
+
+So they shouted, and Pedro went first and took Nuñez by the hand to lead
+him to the houses.
+
+He drew his hand away. "I can see," he said.
+
+"See?" said Correa.
+
+"Yes; see," said Nuñez, turning towards him, and stumbled against Pedro's
+pail.
+
+"His senses are still imperfect," said the third blind man. "He stumbles,
+and talks unmeaning words. Lead him by the hand."
+
+"As you will," said Nuñez, and was led along, laughing.
+
+It seemed they knew nothing of sight.
+
+Well, all in good time he would teach them.
+
+He heard people shouting, and saw a number of figures gathering together
+in the middle roadway of the village.
+
+[Illustration: "'CAREFULLY,' HE CRIED, WITH A FINGER IN HIS EYE."]
+
+He found it tax his nerve and patience more than he had anticipated, that
+first encounter with the population of the Country of the Blind. The place
+seemed larger as he drew near to it, and the smeared plasterings queerer,
+and a crowd of children and men and women (the women and girls he was
+pleased to note had, some of them, quite sweet faces, for all that their
+eyes were shut and sunken) came about him, holding on to him, touching him
+with soft, sensitive hands, smelling at him, and listening at every word he
+spoke. Some of the maidens and children, however, kept aloof as if afraid,
+and indeed his voice seemed coarse and rude beside their softer notes. They
+mobbed him. His three guides kept close to him with an effect of
+proprietorship, and said again and again, "A wild man out of the rocks."
+
+"Bogota," he said. "Bogota. Over the mountain crests."
+
+"A wild man--using wild words," said Pedro. "Did you hear that--_Bogota_?
+His mind has hardly formed yet. He has only the beginnings of speech."
+
+A little boy nipped his hand. "Bogota!" he said, mockingly.
+
+"Aye! A city to your village. I come from the great world--where men have
+eyes and see."
+
+"His name's Bogota," they said.
+
+"He stumbled," said Correa--"stumbled twice as we came hither."
+
+"Bring him in to the elders."
+
+And they thrust him suddenly through a doorway into a room as black as
+pitch, save at the end there faintly glowed a fire. The crowd closed in
+behind him and shut out all but the faintest glimmer of day, and before he
+could arrest himself he had fallen headlong over the feet of a seated man.
+His arm, out-flung, struck the face of someone else as he went down; he
+felt the soft impact of features and heard a cry of anger, and for a moment
+he struggled against a number of hands that clutched him. It was a
+one-sided fight. An inkling of the situation came to him and he lay quiet.
+
+"I fell down," he said; "I couldn't see in this pitchy darkness."
+
+There was a pause as if the unseen persons about him tried to understand
+his words. Then the voice of Correa said: "He is but newly formed. He
+stumbles as he walks and mingles words that mean nothing with his speech."
+
+Others also said things about him that he heard or understood imperfectly.
+
+"May I sit up?" he asked, in a pause. "I will not struggle against you
+again."
+
+They consulted and let him rise.
+
+The voice of an older man began to question him, and Nuñez found himself
+trying to explain the great world out of which he had fallen, and the sky
+and mountains and sight and such-like marvels, to these elders who sat in
+darkness in the Country of the Blind. And they would believe and understand
+nothing whatever that he told them, a thing quite outside his expectation.
+They would not even understand many of his words. For fourteen generations
+these people had been blind and cut off from all the seeing world; the
+names for all the things of sight had faded and changed; the story of the
+outer world was faded and changed to a child's story; and they had ceased
+to concern themselves with anything beyond the rocky slopes above their
+circling wall. Blind men of genius had arisen among them and questioned the
+shreds of belief and tradition they had brought with them from their seeing
+days, and had dismissed all these things as idle fancies and replaced them
+with new and saner explanations. Much of their imagination had shrivelled
+with their eyes, and they had made for themselves new imaginations with
+their ever more sensitive ears and fingertips. Slowly Nuñez realized this:
+that his expectation of wonder and reverence at his origin and his gifts
+was not to be borne out; and after his poor attempt to explain sight to
+them had been set aside as the confused version of a new-made being
+describing the marvels of his incoherent sensations, he subsided, a little
+dashed, into listening to their instruction. And the eldest of the blind
+men explained to him life and philosophy and religion, how that the world
+(meaning their valley) had been first an empty hollow in the rocks, and
+then had come first inanimate things without the gift of touch, and llamas
+and a few other creatures that had little sense, and then men, and at last
+angels, whom one could hear singing and making fluttering sounds, but whom
+no one could touch at all, which puzzled Nuñez greatly until he thought of
+the birds.
+
+He went on to tell Nuñez how this time had been divided into the warm and
+the cold, which are the blind equivalents of day and night, and how it was
+good to sleep in the warm and work during the cold, so that now, but for
+his advent, the whole town of the blind would have been asleep. He said
+Nuñez must have been specially created to learn and serve the wisdom they
+had acquired, and that for all his mental incoherency and stumbling
+behaviour he must have courage and do his best to learn, and at that all
+the people in the doorway murmured encouragingly. He said the night--for
+the blind call their day night--was now far gone, and it behoved everyone
+to go back to sleep. He asked Nuñez if he knew how to sleep, and Nuñez said
+he did, but that before sleep he wanted food. They brought him food,
+llama's milk in a bowl and rough salted bread, and led him into a lonely
+place to eat out of their hearing, and afterwards to slumber until the
+chill of the mountain evening roused them to begin their day again. But
+Nuñez slumbered not at all.
+
+Instead, he sat up in the place where they had left him, resting his limbs
+and turning the unanticipated circumstances of his arrival over and over in
+his mind.
+
+Every now and then he laughed, sometimes with amusement and sometimes with
+indignation.
+
+"Unformed mind!" he said. "Got no senses yet! They little know they've been
+insulting their Heaven-sent King and master....
+
+"I see I must bring them to reason.
+
+"Let me think.
+
+"Let me think."
+
+He was still thinking when the sun set.
+
+Nuñez had an eye for all beautiful things, and it seemed to him that the
+glow upon the snow-fields and glaciers that rose about the valley on every
+side was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His eyes went from that
+inaccessible glory to the village and irrigated fields, fast sinking into
+the twilight, and suddenly a wave of emotion took him, and he thanked God
+from the bottom of his heart that the power of sight had been given him.
+
+He heard a voice calling to him from out of the village.
+
+"Yaho there, Bogota! Come hither!"
+
+At that he stood up, smiling. He would show these people once and for all
+what sight would do for a man. They would seek him, but not find him.
+
+"You move not, Bogota," said the voice.
+
+He laughed noiselessly and made two stealthy steps aside from the path.
+
+"Trample not on the grass, Bogota; that is not allowed."
+
+Nuñez had scarcely heard the sound he made himself. He stopped, amazed.
+
+The owner of the voice came running up the piebald path towards him.
+
+He stepped back into the pathway. "Here I am," he said.
+
+"Why did you not come when I called you?" said the blind man. "Must you be
+led like a child? Cannot you hear the path as you walk?"
+
+Nuñez laughed. "I can see it," he said.
+
+"There is no such word as _see_," said the blind man, after a pause. "Cease
+this folly and follow the sound of my feet."
+
+Nuñez followed, a little annoyed.
+
+"My time will come," he said.
+
+"You'll learn," the blind man answered. "There is much to learn in the
+world."
+
+"Has no one told you, 'In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is
+King'?"
+
+"What is blind?" asked the blind man, carelessly, over his shoulder.
+
+Four days passed and the fifth found the King of the Blind still incognito,
+as a clumsy and useless stranger among his subjects.
+
+It was, he found, much more difficult to proclaim himself than he had
+supposed, and in the meantime, while he meditated his _coup d'état_, he did
+what he was told and learnt the manners and customs of the Country of the
+Blind. He found working and going about at night a particularly irksome
+thing, and he decided that that should be the first thing he would change.
+
+They led a simple, laborious life, these people, with all the elements of
+virtue and happiness as these things can be understood by men. They toiled,
+but not oppressively; they had food and clothing sufficient for their
+needs; they had days and seasons of rest; they made much of music and
+singing, and there was love among them and little children. It was
+marvellous with what confidence and precision they went about their ordered
+world. Everything, you see, had been made to fit their needs; each of the
+radiating paths of the valley area had a constant angle to the others, and
+was distinguished by a special notch upon its kerbing; all obstacles and
+irregularities of path or meadow had long since been cleared away; all
+their methods and procedure arose naturally from their special needs. Their
+senses had become marvellously acute; they could hear and judge the
+slightest gesture of a man a dozen paces away--could hear the very beating
+of his heart. Intonation had long replaced expression with them, and
+touches gesture, and their work with hoe and spade and fork was as free and
+confident as garden work can be. Their sense of smell was extraordinarily
+fine; they could distinguish individual differences as readily as a dog
+can, and they went about the tending of llamas, who lived among the rocks
+above and came to the wall for food and shelter, with ease and confidence.
+It was only when at last Nuñez sought to assert himself that he found how
+easy and confident their movements could be.
+
+He rebelled only after he had tried persuasion.
+
+[Illustration: "THE GLOW UPON THE SNOW-FIELDS AND GLACIERS WAS THE MOST
+BEAUTIFUL THING HE HAD EVER SEEN."]
+
+He tried at first on several occasions to tell them of sight. "Look you
+here, you people," he said. "There are things you do not understand in me."
+
+Once or twice one or two of them attended to him; they sat with faces
+downcast and ears turned intelligently towards him, and he did his best to
+tell them what it was to see. Among his hearers was a girl, with eyelids
+less red and sunken than the others, so that one could almost fancy she was
+hiding eyes, whom especially he hoped to persuade. He spoke of the beauties
+of sight, of watching the mountains, of the sky and the sunrise, and they
+heard him with amused incredulity that presently became condemnatory. They
+told him there were indeed no mountains at all, but that the end of the
+rocks where the llamas grazed was indeed the end of the world; thence
+sprang a cavernous roof of the universe, from which the dew and the
+avalanches fell; and when he maintained stoutly the world had neither end
+nor roof such as they supposed, they said his thoughts were wicked. So far
+as he could describe sky and clouds and stars to them it seemed to them a
+hideous void, a terrible blankness in the place of the smooth roof to
+things in which they believed--it was an article of faith with them that
+the cavern roof was exquisitely smooth to the touch. He saw that in some
+manner he shocked them, and gave up that aspect of the matter altogether,
+and tried to show them the practical value of sight. One morning he saw
+Pedro in the path called Seventeen and coming towards the central houses,
+but still too far off for hearing or scent, and he told them as much. "In a
+little while," he prophesied, "Pedro will be here." An old man remarked
+that Pedro had no business on path Seventeen, and then, as if in
+confirmation, that individual as he drew near turned and went transversely
+into path Ten, and so back with nimble paces towards the outer wall. They
+mocked Nuñez when Pedro did not arrive, and afterwards, when he asked Pedro
+questions to clear his character, Pedro denied and outfaced him, and was
+afterwards hostile to him.
+
+Then he induced them to let him go a long way up the sloping meadows
+towards the wall with one complaisant individual, and to him he promised to
+describe all that happened among the houses. He noted certain goings and
+comings, but the things that really seemed to signify to these people
+happened inside of or behind the windowless houses--the only things they
+took note of to test him by--and of those he could see or tell nothing; and
+it was after the failure of this attempt, and the ridicule they could not
+repress, that he resorted to force. He thought of seizing a spade and
+suddenly smiting one or two of them to earth, and so in fair combat showing
+the advantage of eyes. He went so far with that resolution as to seize his
+spade, and then he discovered a new thing about himself, and that was that
+it was impossible for him to hit a blind man in cold blood.
+
+He hesitated, and found them all aware that he had snatched up the spade.
+They stood all alert, with their heads on one side, and bent ears towards
+him for what he would do next.
+
+"Put that spade down," said one, and he felt a sort of helpless horror. He
+came near obedience.
+
+Then he had thrust one backwards against a house wall, and fled past him
+and out of the village.
+
+He went athwart one of their meadows, leaving a track of trampled grass
+behind his feet, and presently sat down by the side of one of their ways.
+He felt something of the buoyancy that comes to all men in the beginning of
+a fight, but more perplexity. He began to realize that you cannot even
+fight happily with creatures who stand upon a different mental basis to
+yourself. Far away he saw a number of men carrying spades and sticks come
+out of the street of houses and advance in a spreading line along the
+several paths towards him. They advanced slowly, speaking frequently to one
+another, and ever and again the whole cordon would halt and sniff the air
+and listen.
+
+The first time they did this Nuñez laughed. But afterwards he did not
+laugh.
+
+One struck his trail in the meadow grass and came stooping and feeling his
+way along it.
+
+For five minutes he watched the slow extension of the cordon, and then his
+vague disposition to do something forthwith became frantic. He stood up,
+went a pace or so towards the circumferential wall, turned, and went back a
+little way. There they all stood in a crescent, still and listening.
+
+He also stood still, gripping his spade very tightly in both hands. Should
+he charge them?
+
+The pulse in his ears ran into the rhythm of "In the Country of the Blind
+the One-Eyed Man is King!"
+
+Should he charge them?
+
+He looked back at the high and unclimbable wall behind--unclimbable because
+of its smooth plastering, but withal pierced with many little doors, and at
+the approaching line of seekers. Behind these others were now coming out of
+the street of houses.
+
+Should he charge them?
+
+"Bogota!" called one. "Bogota! where are you?"
+
+He gripped his spade still tighter and advanced down the meadows towards
+the place of habitations, and directly he moved they converged upon him.
+"I'll hit them if they touch me," he swore; "by Heaven, I will. I'll hit."
+He called aloud, "Look here, I'm going to do what I like in this valley! Do
+you hear? I'm going to do what I like and go where I like."
+
+[Illustration: "THEY WERE MOVING IN UPON HIM QUICKLY."]
+
+They were moving in upon him quickly, groping, yet moving rapidly. It was
+like playing blind man's buff with everyone blind-folded except one. "Get
+hold of him!" cried one. He found himself in the arc of a loose curve of
+pursuers. He felt suddenly he must be active and resolute.
+
+"You don't understand," he cried, in a voice that was meant to be great and
+resolute, and which broke. "You are blind and I can see. Leave me alone!"
+
+"Bogota! Put down that spade and come off the grass!"
+
+The last order, grotesque in its urban familiarity, produced a gust of
+anger. "I'll hurt you," he said, sobbing with emotion. "By Heaven, I'll
+hurt you! Leave me alone!"
+
+He began to run--not knowing clearly where to run. He ran from the nearest
+blind man, because it was a horror to hit him. He stopped, and then made a
+dash to escape from their closing ranks. He made for where a gap was wide,
+and the men on either side, with a quick perception of the approach of his
+paces, rushed in on one another. He sprang forward, and then saw he must be
+caught, and _swish!_ the spade had struck. He felt the soft thud of hand
+and arm, and the man was down with a yell of pain, and he was through.
+
+Through! And then he was close to the street of houses again, and blind
+men, whirling spades and stakes, were running with a sort of reasoned
+swiftness hither and thither.
+
+He heard steps behind him just in time, and found a tall man rushing
+forward and swiping at the sound of him. He lost his nerve, hurled his
+spade a yard wide at this antagonist, and whirled about and fled, fairly
+yelling as he dodged another.
+
+He was panic-stricken. He ran furiously to and fro, dodging when there was
+no need to dodge, and, in his anxiety to see on every side of him at once,
+stumbling. For a moment he was down and they heard his fall. Far away in
+the circumferential wall a little doorway looked like Heaven, and he set
+off in a wild rush for it. He did not even look round at his pursuers until
+it was gained, and he had stumbled across the bridge, clambered a little
+way among the rocks, to the surprise and dismay of a young llama, who went
+leaping out of sight, and lay down sobbing for breath.
+
+And so his _coup d'état_ came to an end.
+
+He stayed outside the wall of the valley of the blind for two nights and
+days without food or shelter, and meditated upon the Unexpected. During
+these meditations he repeated very frequently and always with a profounder
+note of derision the exploded proverb: "In the Country of the Blind the
+One-Eyed Man is King." He thought chiefly of ways of fighting and
+conquering these people, and it grew clear that for him no practicable way
+was possible. He had no weapons, and now it would be hard to get one.
+
+The canker of civilization had got to him even in Bogota, and he could not
+find it in himself to go down and assassinate a blind man. Of course, if he
+did that, he might then dictate terms on the threat of assassinating them
+all. But----Sooner or later he must sleep!...
+
+He tried also to find food among the pine trees, to be comfortable under
+pine boughs while the frost fell at night, and--with less confidence--to
+catch a llama by artifice in order to try to kill it--perhaps by hammering
+it with a stone--and so finally, perhaps, to eat some of it. But the llamas
+had a doubt of him and regarded him with distrustful brown eyes and spat
+when he drew near. Fear came on him the second day and fits of shivering.
+Finally he crawled down to the wall of the Country of the Blind and tried
+to make his terms. He crawled along by the stream, shouting, until two
+blind men came out to the gate and talked to him.
+
+"I was mad," he said. "But I was only newly made."
+
+They said that was better.
+
+He told them he was wiser now, and repented of all he had done.
+
+Then he wept without intention, for he was very weak and ill now, and they
+took that as a favourable sign.
+
+They asked him if he still thought he could "_see_."
+
+"No," he said. "That was folly. The word means nothing. Less than nothing!"
+
+They asked him what was overhead.
+
+"About ten times ten the height of a man there is a roof above the
+world--of rock--and very, very smooth. So smooth--so beautifully
+smooth...." He burst again into hysterical tears. "Before you ask me any
+more, give me some food or I shall die!"
+
+He expected dire punishments, but these blind people were capable of
+toleration. They regarded his rebellion as but one more proof of his
+general idiocy and inferiority, and after they had whipped him they
+appointed him to do the simplest and heaviest work they had for anyone to
+do, and he, seeing no other way of living, did submissively what he was
+told.
+
+He was ill for some days and they nursed him kindly. That refined his
+submission. But they insisted on his lying in the dark, and that was a
+great misery. And blind philosophers came and talked to him of the wicked
+levity of his mind, and reproved him so impressively for his doubts about
+the lid of rock that covered their cosmic _casserole_ that he almost
+doubted whether indeed he was not the victim of hallucination in not seeing
+it overhead.
+
+So Nuñez became a citizen of the Country of the Blind, and these people
+ceased to be a generalized people and became individualities to him, and
+familiar to him, while the world beyond the mountains became more and more
+remote and unreal. There was Yacob, his master, a kindly man when not
+annoyed; there was Pedro, Yacob's nephew; and there was Medina-saroté, who
+was the youngest daughter of Yacob. She was little esteemed in the world of
+the blind, because she had a clear-cut face and lacked that satisfying,
+glossy smoothness that is the blind man's ideal of feminine beauty, but
+Nuñez thought her beautiful at first, and presently the most beautiful
+thing in the whole creation. Her closed eyelids were not sunken and red
+after the common way of the valley, but lay as though they might open again
+at any moment; and she had long eyelashes, which were considered a grave
+disfigurement. And her voice was weak and did not satisfy the acute hearing
+of the valley swains. So that she had no lover.
+
+There came a time when Nuñez thought that, could he win her, he would be
+resigned to live in the valley for all the rest of his days.
+
+He watched her; he sought opportunities of doing her little services, and
+presently he found that she observed him. Once at a rest-day gathering they
+sat side by side in the dim starlight, and the music was sweet. His hand
+came upon hers and he dared to clasp it. Then very tenderly she returned
+his pressure. And one day, as they were at their meal in the darkness, he
+felt her hand very softly seeking him, and as it chanced the fire leapt
+then, and he saw the tenderness of her face.
+
+He sought to speak to her.
+
+He went to her one day when she was sitting in the summer moonlight
+spinning. The light made her a thing of silver and mystery. He sat down at
+her feet and told her he loved her, and told her how beautiful she seemed
+to him. He had a lover's voice, he spoke with a tender reverence that came
+near to awe, and she had never before been touched by adoration. She made
+him no definite answer, but it was clear his words pleased her.
+
+[Illustration: "HE SAT DOWN AT HER FEET."]
+
+After that he talked to her whenever he could take an opportunity. The
+valley became the world for him, and the world beyond the mountains where
+men lived by day seemed no more than a fairy tale he would some day pour
+into her ears. Very tentatively and timidly he spoke to her of sight.
+
+Sight seemed to her the most poetical of fancies, and she listened to his
+description of the stars and the mountains and her own sweet white-lit
+beauty as though it was a guilty indulgence. She did not believe, she could
+only half understand, but she was mysteriously delighted, and it seemed to
+him that she completely understood.
+
+His love lost its awe and took courage. Presently he was for demanding her
+of Yacob and the elders in marriage, but she became fearful and delayed.
+And it was one of her elder sisters who first told Yacob that Medina-saroté
+and Nuñez were in love.
+
+There was from the first very great opposition to the marriage of Nuñez and
+Medina-saroté; not so much because they valued her as because they held him
+as a being apart, an idiot, incompetent thing below the permissible level
+of a man. Her sisters opposed it bitterly as bringing discredit on them
+all; and old Yacob, though he had formed a sort of liking for his clumsy,
+obedient serf, shook his head and said the thing could not be. The young
+men were all angry at the idea of corrupting the race, and one went so far
+as to revile and strike Nuñez. He struck back. Then for the first time he
+found an advantage in seeing, even by twilight, and after that fight was
+over no one was disposed to raise a hand against him. But they still found
+his marriage impossible.
+
+Old Yacob had a tenderness for his last little daughter, and was grieved to
+have her weep upon his shoulder.
+
+"You see, my dear, he's an idiot. He has delusions; he can't do anything
+right."
+
+"I know," wept Medina-saroté. "But he's better than he was. He's getting
+better. And he's strong, dear father, and kind--stronger and kinder than
+any other man in the world. And he loves me--and, father, I love him."
+
+Old Yacob was greatly distressed to find her inconsolable, and,
+besides--what made it more distressing--he liked Nuñez for many things. So
+he went and sat in the windowless council-chamber with the other elders and
+watched the trend of the talk, and said, at the proper time, "He's better
+than he was. Very likely, some day, we shall find him as sane as
+ourselves."
+
+Then afterwards one of the elders, who thought deeply, had an idea. He was
+the great doctor among these people, their medicine-man, and he had a very
+philosophical and inventive mind, and the idea of curing Nuñez of his
+peculiarities appealed to him. One day when Yacob was present he returned
+to the topic of Nuñez. "I have examined Nuñez," he said, "and the case is
+clearer to me. I think very probably he might be cured."
+
+"That is what I have always hoped," said old Yacob.
+
+"His brain is affected," said the blind doctor.
+
+The elders murmured assent.
+
+[Illustration: "'HIS BRAIN IS AFFECTED,' SAID THE BLIND DOCTOR."]
+
+"Now, _what_ affects it?"
+
+"Ah!" said old Yacob.
+
+"_This_," said the doctor, answering his own question. "Those queer things
+that are called the eyes, and which exist to make an agreeable depression
+in the face, are diseased, in the case of Nuñez, in such a way as to affect
+his brain. They are greatly distended, he has eyelashes, and his eyelids
+move, and consequently his brain is in a state of constant irritation and
+distraction."
+
+"Yes?" said old Yacob. "Yes?"
+
+"And I think I may say with reasonable certainty that, in order to cure him
+completely, all that we need to do is a simple and easy surgical
+operation--namely, to remove these irritant bodies."
+
+"And then he will be sane?"
+
+"Then he will be perfectly sane, and a quite admirable citizen."
+
+"Thank Heaven for science!" said old Yacob, and went forth at once to tell
+Nuñez of his happy hopes.
+
+But Nuñez's manner of receiving the good news struck him as being cold and
+disappointing.
+
+"One might think," he said, "from the tone you take that you did not care
+for my daughter."
+
+It was Medina-saroté who persuaded Nuñez to face the blind surgeons.
+
+"_You_ do not want me," he said, "to lose my gift of sight?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"My world is sight."
+
+Her head drooped lower.
+
+"There are the beautiful things, the beautiful little things--the flowers,
+the lichens amidst the rocks, the light and softness on a piece of fur, the
+far sky with its drifting down of clouds, the sunsets and the stars. And
+there is _you_. For you alone it is good to have sight, to see your sweet,
+serene face, your kindly lips, your dear, beautiful hands folded
+together.... It is these eyes of mine you won, these eyes that hold me to
+you, that these idiots seek. Instead, I must touch you, hear you, and never
+see you again. I must come under that roof of rock and stone and darkness,
+that horrible roof under which your imaginations stoop.... _No_; _you_
+would not have me do that?"
+
+A disagreeable doubt had arisen in him. He stopped and left the thing a
+question.
+
+"I wish," she said, "sometimes----" She paused.
+
+"Yes?" said he, a little apprehensively.
+
+"I wish sometimes--you would not talk like that."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+[Illustration: "HE HAD A FEW MINUTES WITH MEDINA-SAROTÉ BEFORE SHE WENT
+APART TO SLEEP."]
+
+"I know it's pretty--it's your imagination. I love it, but _now_----"
+
+He felt cold. "_Now?_" he said, faintly.
+
+She sat quite still.
+
+"You mean--you think--I should be better, better perhaps----"
+
+He was realizing things very swiftly. He felt anger perhaps, anger at the
+dull course of fate, but also sympathy for her lack of understanding--a
+sympathy near akin to pity. "_Dear_," he said, and he could see by her
+whiteness how tensely her spirit pressed against the things she could not
+say. He put his arms about her, he kissed her ear, and they sat for a time
+in silence.
+
+"If I were to consent to this?" he said at last, in a voice that was very
+gentle.
+
+She flung her arms about him, weeping wildly. "Oh, if you would," she
+sobbed, "if only you would!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a week before the operation that was to raise him from his servitude
+and inferiority to the level of a blind citizen Nuñez knew nothing of
+sleep, and all through the warm, sunlit hours, while the others slumbered
+happily, he sat brooding or wandered aimlessly, trying to bring his mind to
+bear on his dilemma. He had given his answer, he had given his consent, and
+still he was not sure. And at last work-time was over, the sun rose in
+splendour over the golden crests, and his last day of vision began for him.
+He had a few minutes with Medina-saroté before she went apart to sleep.
+
+"To-morrow," he said, "I shall see no more."
+
+"Dear heart!" she answered, and pressed his hands with all her strength.
+
+"They will hurt you but little," she said; "and you are going through this
+pain, you are going through it, dear lover, for _me_.... Dear, if a woman's
+heart and life can do it, I will repay you. My dearest one, my dearest with
+the tender voice, I will repay."
+
+He was drenched in pity for himself and her.
+
+He held her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers and looked on her
+sweet face for the last time. "Good-bye!" he whispered to that dear sight,
+"good-bye!"
+
+And then in silence he turned away from her.
+
+She could hear his slow retreating footsteps, and something in the rhythm
+of them threw her into a passion of weeping.
+
+He walked away.
+
+He had fully meant to go to a lonely place where the meadows were beautiful
+with white narcissus, and there remain until the hour of his sacrifice
+should come, but as he walked he lifted up his eyes and saw the morning,
+the morning like an angel in golden armour, marching down the steeps....
+
+It seemed to him that before this splendour he and this blind world in the
+valley, and his love and all, were no more than a pit of sin.
+
+He did not turn aside as he had meant to do, but went on and passed through
+the wall of the circumference and out upon the rocks, and his eyes were
+always upon the sunlit ice and snow.
+
+He saw their infinite beauty, and his imagination soared over them to the
+things beyond he was now to resign for ever!
+
+He thought of that great free world that he was parted from, the world that
+was his own, and he had a vision of those further slopes, distance beyond
+distance, with Bogota, a place of multitudinous stirring beauty, a glory by
+day, a luminous mystery by night, a place of palaces and fountains and
+statues and white houses, lying beautifully in the middle distance. He
+thought how for a day or so one might come down through passes drawing ever
+nearer and nearer to its busy streets and ways. He thought of the river
+journey, day by day, from great Bogota to the still vaster world beyond,
+through towns and villages, forest and desert places, the rushing river day
+by day, until its banks receded and the big steamers came splashing by and
+one had reached the sea--the limitless sea, with its thousand islands, its
+thousands of islands, and its ships seen dimly far away in their incessant
+journeyings round and about that greater world. And there, unpent by
+mountains, one saw the sky--the sky, not such a disc as one saw it here,
+but an arch of immeasurable blue, a deep of deeps in which the circling
+stars were floating....
+
+His eyes began to scrutinize the great curtain of the mountains with a
+keener inquiry.
+
+For example: if one went so, up that gully and to that chimney there, then
+one might come out high among those stunted pines that ran round in a sort
+of shelf and rose still higher and higher as it passed above the gorge. And
+then? That talus might be managed. Thence perhaps a climb might be found to
+take him up to the precipice that came below the snow; and if that chimney
+failed, then another farther to the east might serve his purpose better.
+And then? Then one would be out upon the amber-lit snow there, and half-way
+up to the crest of those beautiful desolations. And suppose one had good
+fortune!
+
+He glanced back at the village, then turned right round and regarded it
+with folded arms.
+
+He thought of Medina-saroté, and she had become small and remote.
+
+He turned again towards the mountain wall down which the day had come to
+him.
+
+Then, very circumspectly he began his climb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When sunset came he was no longer climbing, but he was far and high. His
+clothes were torn, his limbs were blood-stained, he was bruised in many
+places, but he lay as if he were at his ease, and there was a smile on his
+face.
+
+From where he rested the valley seemed as if it were in a pit and nearly a
+mile below. Already it was dim with haze and shadow, though the mountain
+summits around him were things of light and fire. The mountain summits
+around him were things of light and fire, and the little things in the
+rocks near at hand were drenched with light and beauty, a vein of green
+mineral piercing the grey, a flash of small crystal here and there, a
+minute, minutely-beautiful orange lichen close beside his face. There were
+deep, mysterious shadows in the gorge, blue deepening into purple, and
+purple into a luminous darkness, and overhead was the illimitable vastness
+of the sky. But he heeded these things no longer, but lay quite still
+there, smiling as if he were content now merely to have escaped from the
+valley of the Blind, in which he had thought to be King. And the glow of
+the sunset passed, and the night came, and still he lay there, under the
+cold, clear stars.
+
+
+
+
+_Off the Track in London._
+
+BY GEORGE R. SIMS.
+
+
+I. IN ALIEN-LAND.
+
+It is many a long year since I first began to find delight in wandering
+through the least-known districts of the capital, in visiting strange
+quarters inhabited by strange people, in penetrating dim, mysterious
+regions where thousands of our fellow-citizens live, cut off from the rest
+of the populace by a network of streets and slums into which it is nobody's
+business but the inhabitants' to enter, and where a visitor from beyond is
+rarely seen.
+
+At first my travels were undertaken solely to gratify my own curiosity.
+Later on, when there came to me an opportunity of exploring with a less
+selfish end in view, many circumstances combined to give me an insight into
+the life of the people which I could never have gained as a mere onlooker.
+So it has come about that to-day I can not only survey the streets of the
+strange lands in the capital of King Edward, but I can enter the houses and
+take my notes from the cellar to the roof. I am privileged to sit around
+the coke fire in lodging-houses where an ordinary stranger would meet with
+scant courtesy; and the mysteries of "How the Poor Live" are freely
+unveiled to me. In the vilest of the native quarters, in the queerest of
+the foreign quarters, I am permitted to spend days and nights, not peeping
+furtively at the human comedies and tragedies in which the strange men and
+women are players, but made way for as one entitled to a front place in the
+local audience.
+
+Of some of the things that I have seen I have written from time to time,
+but I have always longed for the pencil of the artist to enable the reader
+to realize what some of the scenes actually mean. And now my wish has been
+gratified. I have been able to wander off the track in London accompanied
+by an artist _confrère_, and to provide him with opportunities for making
+sketches on the spot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is four o'clock on Sunday afternoon as we come out of Aldgate Station
+and in a few minutes turn into Middlesex Street, littered with paper and
+straw and rubbish, the remains of the great Sunday morning market, which is
+at its highest at noon and gradually disappears as the afternoon wears on.
+
+The scene is known to most Londoners, for the fame of Petticoat Lane, as
+the street was formerly called, has spread through the length and breadth
+of the land.
+
+But we must pass through it to get off the track in the Ghetto, which has
+burst its old boundaries and now extends over a large area which until
+lately was a Christian quarter.
+
+It is not till we come to Wentworth Street that the strangeness of the
+Sunday scene reveals itself. Here all the shops are open and the narrow
+thoroughfare is packed with the stalls of Jewish hawkers. We hear a little
+English at the top of Wentworth Street, but as we push our way through the
+seething crowd and get nearer to Brick Lane the English words become rarer
+and rarer, and presently only the German Hebrew jargon known as "Yiddish"
+reaches our ears.
+
+We are in the heart of the old Ghetto. The alien immigrants, many of them
+fresh from the Pale of Settlement in Russia and the persecutions of
+Roumania, are chaffering and bargaining with their co-religionists who have
+been in London long enough to stock a barrow or a stall and start on the
+path of financial progress, which may lead their sons, if not themselves,
+_viâ_ Dalston, Canonbury, Maida Vale, and Bayswater, to Kensington, and
+perhaps Park Lane.
+
+Stop for a moment and gaze at the crowd. A London child seeing it for the
+first time would look at the faces and recall the Bible pictures.
+Everywhere the Oriental type predominates. The old, solemn-looking men--the
+poorest of the hawkers, for they have come to the Land of Promise too late
+to struggle out of the ruck--have the beards and features of the
+Patriarchs. They are calling aloud the price of their poor goods in the
+lachrymose sing-song of the Eastern pedlar. Pious Jews are these aged
+immigrants, and if you were to follow them to their synagogue you would see
+them swaying to and fro as they repeat their prayers in the same mournful,
+wailing voice with which they cry their wares.
+
+[Illustration: "IN WENTWORTH STREET."]
+
+The women are as Eastern as the men. The girls are handsome, dark-haired,
+dark-eyed daughters of Israel, whose type of beauty has not changed in all
+the thousand years of persecution and exile.
+
+The younger women are well dressed, with a tendency to brilliant colours
+and the "Paris fashion" that is displayed in the gay millinery shops of the
+Ghetto. The children, who have been running in and out of the crowd, are
+neat and clean, their pinafores are white, their boots are good and
+well-fitting, their hair is bound with bright ribbons, and their frocks are
+pretty. The first thought of the poorest alien immigrant is for his
+children, and his pride is to see them well clad and well cared for.
+
+The middle-aged women and the old women are true daughters of the East.
+They wear coloured shawls over their heads. There is a curious monotony in
+the coiffure of the women of the Ghetto who have passed their first youth.
+The woman of thirty and the woman of seventy seem equally well supplied
+with a head of glossy black hair. The stranger wonders, as he looks into an
+old, wrinkled face, at the abundance of black hair surmounting it. If he
+asks the reason he will learn that many of the Russian Jewesses cut their
+own hair off on the day of their marriage and wear a wig for the rest of
+their lives. To the Oriental the glory of a woman is her hair. The Jewish
+bride was expected to sacrifice this attraction in order that she should
+not entice the eyes of men.
+
+[Illustration: "A CLOTHES AUCTION IN FULL SWING."]
+
+It is a custom of long ago and the Russian Jewesses adhere to it. Most of
+the older women came into the Ghetto straight from the ship that landed
+them in the Thames, and they rarely go beyond its boundaries. Many of them
+would not if they had the chance.
+
+Here is a clothes auction in full swing. The sombre shop, the front window
+of which is pushed half-way up, is packed with ready-made suits. The
+proprietor is selling them to an eager crowd of men, who, when their bid is
+accepted, take trousers, coats, and waistcoats over their arm and walk away
+with their purchase. There is a tailor's shop close at hand where twenty
+cutters and a large number of hands are employed in preparing suits solely
+for the Sunday sale in this street.
+
+Within a stone's throw of this street is a great Sunday gold and diamond
+market. During the morning and early afternoon you may see a number of men
+with little wash-leather bags or velvet-lined cases displaying their
+glittering merchandise to one another. The jewel mart and exchange is in
+progress. Many hundreds of pounds' worth of jewels change hands within a
+few minutes. In Wentworth Street the buyer will haggle and bargain for half
+an hour over a few pence. In St. James's Place a transaction involving
+hundreds of pounds is carried out in a minute with scarcely a superfluous
+word. The business is conducted with perfect good-humour, but the dealers
+are among the keenest and cleverest men in the City of London.
+
+But we are still only half off the track, for now and again the Gentile
+sightseer penetrates as far as this.
+
+As we come out from Wentworth Street into Brick Lane, where there is no
+market and so no crowd, the long line of open shops and busy warehouses,
+the hum and bustle of trade and toil in full swing, strike us as peculiar
+when we remember that it is Sunday. Leaving Brick Lane with its Russian
+post-office, its Roumanian restaurants, and shop after shop where the young
+men of the Ghetto take the syrups and temperance drinks that are their
+principal liquid refreshment, we make our way down Commercial Street and
+plunge into the new Ghetto, a vast area far more foreign than the old
+Ghetto, and now entirely given up to the alien immigrant. In the broad main
+thoroughfare the shops are all open and trade is at its height. The
+factories are busy, the furniture shops are loading their vans, the
+shipping agents and bankers are taking money for remittance to relatives
+abroad who are to leave the Russian Pale and come to the city paved with
+gold, or booking passages to America and the Colonies for the immigrants
+who are "moving on."
+
+Here the scene to the unaccustomed Gentile eye is only odd. Directly he
+turns into the small streets the stranger is filled with absolute
+astonishment. Many of them are still crowded with dwelling-houses of the
+poorest class; but where the Gentile dwelt the Jew trades. House after
+house has been transformed into a shop. Windows have been taken out and
+living rooms packed with merchandise. Every available corner is used, and
+one sees the proprietor sitting in a little front room so packed in with
+rolls of gay-coloured cloths, fancy boxes, and packages that one imagines
+his only way of getting out must be by a harlequin leap through the window.
+
+You may wander through miles of streets in this quarter and see the same
+strange sight--the immigrant Jew who has established himself keeping open
+shop in a dwelling-house all the Sunday through. You may see trade in full
+tide at eight o'clock in the morning. When midnight has rung out from the
+churches which still remain as memorials of the vanished Christian
+population you will still see the shops open and the Rembrandtesque figure
+of the owner sitting among his wares, waiting for a chance customer. He is
+perhaps reading a Yiddish paper, printed in Hebrew characters, by the light
+of a candle, slowly guttering to its last flicker.
+
+[Illustration: "THE ORIENTAL BAZAAR."]
+
+But it is not yet night, though the twilight is falling as we turn into
+Morgan Street, and come suddenly upon a page of the old Orient bound up in
+the book of modern Western life.
+
+Here is a building which is fitly labelled "The Oriental Bazaar." You are
+in London, but you might be in Cairo or Mogador. The bazaar or "market" is
+reached from the street by deep flights of steps. It is open to the sky,
+and beyond it and above it is a street of houses, and a roadway along which
+flit now and again Eastern women with gay-coloured shawls over their heads.
+
+The "shops" of the market are built in little recesses. In these sit silent
+Oriental figures--the dealers. Most of the day's business is over. There
+are only a few loiterers, and the men and women who keep the little shops
+sit silent and emotionless as the Arabs among their unsold wares. In one
+shop the stock has been sold out and the proprietor is sitting in the gloom
+playing cards with a little party of men friends.
+
+It is a picture for Rembrandt. The only light in the arched recess which
+forms the shop is that of a candle. Round the candle are grouped
+half-a-dozen dark, weird-looking men, all intent upon the game.
+
+There is one card to be played. Uttering a little guttural cry, the man who
+holds it brings it down on the counter with a thud. The game the men are
+playing is one peculiar to these people. It is called Clabber-yas. The last
+card played, the ninth trump, adds ten points to the score and wins the
+game.
+
+And at that moment the distant church bells ring out to call the Christian
+worshippers to evening prayer.
+
+But the Sabbath evening does not find the Jews undevout. The darkness has
+fallen now, and we make our way back to the crowded streets of the old
+Ghetto. Here the long lines of lighted shops are now packed with their
+evening customers, who are buying meat and groceries and selecting
+furniture, being measured for new suits, trying on smart hats and cloaks of
+the latest West-end fashion, and examining the pink and blue and yellow
+silk petticoats which make such a gay show in the brilliantly-lighted
+windows of the milliners. We turn into a quiet street where the prevailing
+note is gloom, and, having secured the friendly escort of a Jewish
+clergyman's son, without whose presence we should hesitate to intrude, we
+pass through a dark doorway and find ourselves among a group of men whose
+features and whose occupations would have delighted the heart of Gustave
+Doré.
+
+In the hall, or ante-room, of the building are shelves packed with
+ancient-looking volumes--books of Rabbinic lore and law. Gathered together
+in groups are a number of Jews, young and old, who are standing around a
+desk at which an aged man with a long grey beard is reading a well-worn
+volume and explaining certain passages of it to the men who crowd about him
+and listen intently to his words.
+
+We are in the ante-room of a building which is known as the "Machazeke
+Hadass V'Shomrei Shabbas"--that is, "The Strengtheners of the Law and
+Guardians of the Sabbath." It is known officially as "The Spitalfields
+Great Synagogue." The members of it, almost all alien immigrants, comprise
+the ultra-orthodox section of the community. They have their own Chief
+Rabbi, their own Shechita Board (the board that controls the slaughtering
+of animals), and their own Beth Din (the court of justice). These pious
+Jews are distinguished by their scrupulous observance of the Sabbath as a
+day of rest. They will not even carry their handkerchief on the Sabbath day
+because it constitutes carrying a burden. That is forbidden, so they tie it
+round their waist as a girdle, where it becomes part of their clothing and
+so allowable. They will not carry an umbrella on the Sabbath, not only
+because it is a burden, but also because the putting up of an umbrella is
+considered equivalent to the erecting of a tent over the head. And they
+strictly obey the injunction which says neither thou nor thy servant shall
+do any manner of work on the Sabbath day. For what is absolutely necessary
+they employ an occasional servant, who is known as the "Shobbos Goy." They
+never give him a direct order for the performance of a household task, but
+they sometimes manage to evade the injunction. For instance, if it is
+bitterly cold and coals are wanted on the fire, they don't say, "Put more
+coals on." They shiver and rub their hands and say, "It is terribly cold."
+Then the Shobbos Goy takes the hint and makes the fire up.
+
+Let us linger for a moment among this strange group of devout Jews, few of
+whom can speak a word of English, though they are likely to pass the rest
+of their lives in our midst.
+
+The pious old man who is thumbing the book is displaying his Talmudic
+erudition to his hearers. The synagogue is open night and day, and this
+ante-room is always filled with reverent and intelligent loungers, who
+listen to the exposition of the Talmud and occasionally discuss the affairs
+of the moment, for the alien Jew has brought with him the old custom of
+making the synagogue a meeting-place and a club.
+
+In the same room a number of men are swaying to and fro and repeating their
+prayers in the Oriental fashion. Everywhere there is a note that is a
+revelation to the Gentile visitor who is privileged to look upon the scene.
+
+[Illustration: "IN THE SYNAGOGUE."]
+
+The privilege is not easily gained, for these pious Jews, most of them from
+the lands of persecution and massacre, are still nervous and fearful. They
+have not yet learned the true meaning of English freedom, and the Alien
+Commission is to them a warning note of some new disaster that threatens.
+
+Passing from the Talmud school into the synagogue itself, you are startled
+to find the Royal Arms of England, elaborately carved and coloured,
+standing out boldly on the walls.
+
+The mystery is solved when we learn that this was originally a Huguenot
+chapel, owned by the French refugees who settled in Spitalfields after the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes. At one time the Huguenots were under
+special Royal favour, which may account for the display of the Royal Arms
+in their place of worship. The Jews acquired the building and converted it
+into a synagogue about ten years ago.
+
+The synagogue is only dimly lighted. Here and there a few worshippers are
+sitting in the pews repeating their prayers or reading a tattered volume.
+In one pew sits an old man writing by the aid of a tallow candle, which he
+has stuck on the little shelf in front of him. He is writing out one of the
+tiny scrolls which, encased in a capsule of tin or glass, forms the
+"Mezuzzah," the amulet which every orthodox Jew places on his doors; or
+perhaps the miniature manuscript is intended to be placed inside the
+"Tephillin"--that is, the phylacteries which are bound round the head and
+the left arm for the morning prayers. Remembering that the Mezuzzah and the
+Tephillin are direct Sinaitic ordinances, we look at the old man writing by
+the gleam of the candle in the gloomy synagogue with feelings of awe and
+reverence. Forty centuries ago the injunction was given in the far-off
+Eastern desert which the Hebrew exile is transcribing to-day in the heart
+of London.
+
+But, weird and mystic as the scene is, we do not care to linger. Already
+the uninvited presence of Christian strangers has attracted considerable
+attention, and the efforts of our artist to sketch unobserved have brought
+about us a number of the pious and aged aliens, who consult together in
+Yiddish and eventually put forward a spokesman, who, in broken English,
+politely asks us what we want.
+
+We make our explanation and assure the head of the little deputation that
+we have no evil intent, and then as quickly as is consistent with dignity
+we make our way through the Talmud room, the readers and expounders and the
+aged men rocking to and fro in prayer, and pass out into the darkness of
+the night. On the step an old man stands and looks after us. The pale light
+coming through the open door falls upon his face and shows a deep scar that
+looks like a sabre cut. The old man is one of the survivors of the massacre
+of Kischineff.
+
+And now we are back again in the big trading streets, with the yellow blaze
+of gas and lamp oil showing up the bright costumes of young Jewesses who
+are on their way to balls and parties and even to theatrical performances,
+which are frequent Sunday features of this foreign land which is in London
+but not of it.
+
+Every now and then through the packed streets dashes a carriage with a
+spanking pair of greys. Sunday is the day for weddings in the Ghetto. The
+white ribbon on the whip of the coachman catches the eye again and again,
+and always a little crowd turns to follow the vehicle and take up its
+station outside the Hall in which the marriage feast is being celebrated.
+These wedding carriages are to be seen making their way through the narrow
+streets in every direction. They are picking up the invited guests at their
+dwellings. As soon as one load has been deposited at the Hall, off the
+driver hurries in search of another.
+
+All is merriment within, and all is good temper and good order outside. The
+crowd blocks the pavement to listen and to make critical remarks on the
+toilettes of the guests as they arrive. One sharp turn out of the gay,
+crowded street and the scene is changed. Here everything is gloom, and in
+the gloom is a little group of slouching men and slatternly women loafing
+at the doors of dark, forbidding-looking houses.
+
+[Illustration: "LOAFING AT THE DOORS OF DARK, FORBIDDING-LOOKING HOUSES."]
+
+We are in a quarter that has been rendered notorious by the revelations of
+coroners' inquests. This is a little bit of the Ghetto that the Jews have
+not yet taken from the Christians. It is the street of common
+lodging-houses where strange murders have been done. We pass quickly by the
+group of loafing tramps who have come out of the lodging-house kitchens to
+gossip, and make our way up a narrow, tortuous passage to another street of
+evil fame, where lodging-houses of the lowest class still remain. Battered
+wrecks of lost humanity, male and female, flit to and fro in the darkness.
+A woman pauses under the solitary lamp and we see that her face is bruised
+and her eyes are blackened. The door of one lodging-house stands ajar and
+the English tongue salutes our ears once more. It is not a welcome relief,
+for the sentiment of the words is foul and blasphemous. At the top of the
+court one comes again upon good buildings and light and a sound of childish
+merriment. A number of little Jewish children are dancing a dance of their
+own in the lamplight.
+
+[Illustration: "A NUMBER OF LITTLE JEWISH CHILDREN ARE DANCING."]
+
+We pass out into a broad main thoroughfare, and still the shops are open
+and doing a brisk business. Here is a little restaurant with its bill of
+fare in Hebrew characters. We push the door ajar and enter, for we know
+that it was once the haunt of the Bessarabians, the formidable gang who had
+a standing vendetta with the Odessians, and who fought them not long ago
+outside the Yiddish theatre, the fray ending in a man being stabbed to
+death.
+
+The room we enter is lighted by a single jet of gas. There are only one or
+two young fellows sitting about and smoking cigarettes. The proprietor in
+his shirt sleeves stands behind the counter. At the end of the room is an
+opening covered with heavy curtains. Now and again a man enters, nods to
+the proprietor, and passes through them.
+
+We have ordered tea, for which we pay a penny a cup. The proprietor brings
+it himself, looks at us curiously, and I endeavour to allay his suspicion
+by speaking to him in German. He replies amiably, and I try to engage him
+in conversation. I ask him if the Bessarabians still use the house.
+
+His manner alters. He has heard of such people, but they never came to his
+establishment--never. I ask him if there is another restaurant beyond the
+curtain. Again he looks at me curiously.
+
+No, there is nothing beyond but his own dwelling rooms. I want to get
+behind those curtains; but I have not the password, and there is no chance.
+Some day I hope to be more fortunate. For this _café_ was the meeting-place
+of the Bessarabians, one of the most dangerous gangs in the East-end, and
+behind those curtains you passed to a room which was a gambling den. There
+the quarrel took place which led to midnight murder at the corner of the
+dark street.
+
+We walk quietly away and in five minutes we are back upon the beaten track.
+Everywhere are closed shops and the calm of the Christian Sunday night. The
+householders pass on their homeward way. The sweethearts linger for a while
+before they part at the door, or separate to go each a different way.
+
+And though they are within a few minutes' walk of the strange scenes we
+have looked upon by turning a little way off the beaten track, most of
+these people are as ignorant of their existence as was the great French
+critic who came for the first time to London and was taken to Piccadilly
+Circus, was told that it was the famous Whitechapel--and believed it.
+
+
+
+
+_Artists and Musicians._
+
+BY S. K. LUDOVIC.
+
+
+The following collection of pictures, in each of which the artist has
+depicted an event in the lives of the great musicians, can open with
+nothing more suitably than with the charming picture of "The Child Handel,"
+by Margaret Dicksee. Handel's father strongly opposed the child's
+passionate love for music, and the more his great gifts developed the more
+severely was he forbidden to occupy himself with music. The little boy was
+obliged to have recourse to subterfuge, and when his elders believed him
+snug in bed he used to steal on tip-toe to the lumber-room, where he had
+discovered an old spinet, on which he played softly to his heart's content,
+alone and fancy-free. In one of these moments of enjoyment, when the divine
+genius spoke to the child, he forgot himself and played louder and
+louder--all the sound of the old spinet streamed through the silent night,
+waking the sleepers in the house, who believed that the angels were keeping
+vigil over the old town of Halle. But little George's father bethought
+himself of the musical propensities of the boy, and, as the latter was not
+to be found in his bed, the lantern was lit and a search-party followed
+where the music led them. Alas! Poor George was found, severely
+reprimanded, and dismissed to bed. The picture brings the scene so vividly
+before our minds that we are glad to know the sequel. George was not to be
+suppressed. A short time afterwards his father went to Weissenfels, where,
+in consequence of the presence of the music-loving Prince, many concerts
+were to be held. Little George knew this, and, as his father would not let
+him go, he ran after the coach so long that his parent was compelled to
+take him in. The Prince heard of the extraordinary child-musician, and,
+thanks to his intercession, Handel's father at last gave permission that
+his son should be taught music.
+
+[Illustration: "THE CHILD HANDEL."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY MARGARET DICKSEE.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The next picture shows us Sebastian Bach, "the father of all music,"
+playing before Frederick the Great. The painter has chosen the moment when
+the King is giving Bach a theme on which to improvise. This theme, "a right
+royal one," as Bach called it, was afterwards worked out by him and sent
+back to the King, under the name of "A Musical Sacrifice." The King, who
+was himself a remarkable musician, had shown Bach the greatest
+appreciation, and this visit to Potsdam seems to have been one of the
+happiest events in Bach's life. Those who are inclined to regard Frederick,
+in his musical capacity, as no better than a _dilettante_ flute-player
+would do well to remember that he was among the first to recognise and to
+encourage the genius of one of the greatest musicians of all time. Yet
+Bach's greater works remained in manuscript, and it was left to musicians
+of a later period--especially to Mendelssohn--to unearth and make them
+known to the world at large.
+
+[Illustration: "FREDERICK THE GREAT AND SEBASTIAN BACH."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL RÖHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+Another of our master-musicians, Haydn, unlike Bach, who never left his
+country, came to England, and reached in this country the summit of his
+renown. In the picture on the next page we see him on board ship. Well
+wrapped in his great-coat he stands on deck and seems to enjoy the
+sea-breezes, unconscious of the curiosity of the other passengers. He is
+wondering what will await him in that strange country across the sea. Will
+they understand him and the message he has to deliver to them: harmonies
+so pure and simple from a heart so kindly and a will so strong? And they
+did understand him in England; a glorious season of success awaited him.
+Sympathy met him everywhere, and in such fulness that on returning home to
+Austria he stopped at the little village of his birth and, kneeling at the
+threshold of his father's humble cottage, he thanked God for all the
+happiness which he had known in England.
+
+[Illustration: "HAYDN CROSSING TO ENGLAND."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL RÖHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1902, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+In his wake followed another and a brighter star. When Haydn was at the
+zenith of his success all Germany began to talk of the little infant
+prodigy, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Our first Mozart picture shows him at the
+epoch of his life when he first fell in love. While on a visit to an uncle
+he met his fate in the shape of one of his youthful cousins, Aloysia Weber.
+The two sisters were pretty; the older, whom in the picture we see
+lingering in the other room, was full of kindness and sweet unselfishness,
+always putting forward the younger and more talented sister. Aloysia had a
+beautiful and well-trained voice, and could read a song at first sight.
+What was more natural than that the two young people who loved music should
+learn to love each other? Then came the parting hour. Mozart was compelled
+to go on one of his extensive tours. Two years passed by before he could
+return to his Aloysia. She had, of course, vowed everlasting love; but,
+alas for the faithlessness, the vanity of woman! Wolfgang came back,
+faithful and loving as he had left, to find that Aloysia had grown into a
+very beautiful girl, who had tasted the joys of celebrity as a singer.
+Success had turned her head and she had nothing to say to the young
+musician, who was only on the road to make his fame, and she threw away a
+treasure which she was too ignorant to prize.
+
+[Illustration: "MOZART AND ALOYSIA WEBER."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL RÖHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1902 by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+[Illustration: "MOZART AND BEETHOVEN."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY A. BORCKMANN.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.]
+
+In the next picture we see Mozart again when, at the height of his own
+fame, he listens to one who was destined to be greater even than
+himself--the young Beethoven. The young musician of sixteen asked him for a
+theme on which to improvise. Slowly the genius unfolded his wings; the
+simple theme seemed to grow to a mighty phrase, which was taken up by other
+voices as the harmony swelled under the fingers of the player who was
+destined to show the coming generations the power of music at its greatest.
+Mozart listened more and more attentively, his eyes fixed upon the young
+musician, his face wearing an almost reverential look under the spell of
+celestial inspiration, which came now like the rushing of a mighty wind.
+The music still went on. Beethoven had forgotten that he was not alone; but
+Mozart turned to his friends. "Listen!" he said. "And remember, of this
+young man the whole world will speak."
+
+Kaulbach, in his painting, "Mozart's Requiem," has immortalized the moment
+when fate cut short the life of Mozart. The fire of his genius, the
+never-ceasing, burning desire to embody the immortal inspirations which
+floated so richly in his brain, had "fretted the pigmy body to decay." Ill
+and depressed he was leaning back in his chair, when a stranger was
+announced, who asked him to compose a Requiem as full of dignity and beauty
+as his genius could conceive, a work which should be without an equal. He
+laid down a roll of a thousand ducats on Mozart's table and went away
+without disclosing his name, saying only that he would call again. Then the
+master collected his last strength, and a sublime effort resulted in the
+unique work, before which the world still stands in awe and reverence. He
+felt from the first moment that he was writing his own Requiem.
+
+The work was finished and now he wished to hear it. Too weak to stir from
+his room, he summoned his friends to perform the Requiem before him. They
+came and he listened, still and happy, to those mighty strains of sadness;
+and, so listening, his own soul flew to Heaven. This is the scene of
+Kaulbach's picture.
+
+[Illustration: "THE LAST HOUR OF MOZART."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY H. KAULBACH.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133 New Bond Street,
+London, W.]
+
+The well-known and well-beloved "Moonlight Sonata," whose power and beauty
+will delight for ages, is the subject of the very pretty story depicted on
+the next page. It is said that Beethoven passed, in the course of one of
+his rambling walks, a lonely street in the suburbs of Vienna, and heard
+from an open window the strains of his own music. The music came from a
+room on the ground floor, and when he approached he saw a young girl
+sitting at the piano and a child listening to her, huddled up on a chair
+near by. Impulsive as he was, he at once entered, saying, "I know that
+piece. What makes you play it? Does it please you?" "I love all Beethoven's
+compositions," said the young girl in a sweet, quiet voice, without
+showing any surprise at being thus interrupted by a stranger. But the child
+came quickly towards him, saying, "My sister is blind, and music is her
+only joy. What is it you want, sir?" With that peculiar directness which
+was so characteristic of his nature, he simply said, "I wish to play to
+you. I am Beethoven." Then the two girls settled themselves joyfully to
+listen. The moon had risen, the street was silent, the tears glistened in
+the blind eyes of the elder girl--and then came the wonderful mysterious
+song of that Adagio in C sharp minor, which rose and fell and soared again
+to Heaven. Such revelation of human feeling strained the nerves of these
+two young beings almost beyond endurance. A slight pause, and the graces of
+the Minuet played around them, soothed them, brushed the tears away, and
+spoke of life and youth and gladness. And then it sang on--another rushing
+storm--and melody after melody followed, and wildest outbreak of the
+Titan's own rugged nature, and then it cleared up into majestic
+strength--imposing chords of greatness--then silence. Beethoven turned and
+went as he had come, and long after he gave to the world what he saw and
+felt before these two lonely children.
+
+[Illustration: "THE MOONLIGHT SONATA."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY ERNST OPPLER.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1900, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+[Illustration: "BEETHOVEN AND GOETHE IN TEPLITZ."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL RÖHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The picture entitled "Beethoven and Goethe in Teplitz" illustrates an
+episode which shows Beethoven in the company of Germany's greatest poet,
+for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration. Beethoven's was a proud nature,
+and he sometimes showed his pride in a manner which had nothing in common
+with the smooth and polished manners of the aristocratic society in which
+he and Goethe were wont to move.
+
+Beethoven and Goethe met at Teplitz, a Bohemian watering-place much
+frequented by Royalties and aristocratic society. They were walking
+together, when the Emperor and Empress and their suite came towards them.
+Goethe, standing still, hat in hand, bowed almost to the ground, as it is
+customary on the Continent. Beethoven pressed his hat tighter on his head,
+let go Goethe's arm, and tried to elbow his way through the crowd; but the
+Empress had seen him and greeted him smilingly as she passed on, whilst
+Goethe received only the courtesy accorded to every unknown person. This is
+the moment shown us by the artist. The expression of surprise in the faces
+of the Royal visitors at Goethe's obsequious politeness, the indulgent
+smiles which follow the irate Beethoven, are very amusing.
+
+Franz Schubert is the creator of the German "Lied." He was the first who
+gave this kind of music a deeper meaning and a more elevated form, and,
+guided by his dramatic instinct, produced such masterpieces as the
+"Erlking" and the "Müller-lieder." The singer is surprised to find most of
+these songs written in a very high key, and before somebody had taken the
+trouble to transpose them this was, even in Germany, a drawback to their
+popularity. The reason was as follows. One of Schubert's best friends was a
+very popular singer in Vienna, and his tenor voice was of an exceptional
+compass. Schubert wrote most of his songs for him. The painter has had the
+happy idea of giving us a portrait of this man in the act of singing, while
+Schubert himself is playing the accompaniment. The young lady who stands at
+the other side of the piano is probably the girl of whom Schubert said: "I
+loved once a girl, she was not beautiful--but, oh, so kind-hearted, good,
+and loving! And she sang my songs with a most beautiful soprano voice. We
+loved each other for three years, and we were happy. Then I had to give her
+up. I could never succeed in getting a post which would have enabled me to
+marry. I had no right to prevent her from marrying a man who could give her
+a home and make her happy." It is sad that a man whom we acknowledge as one
+of the greatest of musicians should be compelled to give up every thought
+of the happiness which comes to even the simplest worker in another field.
+
+[Illustration: "SCHUBERT AND HIS FRIENDS."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL RÖHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1903, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The next painting illustrates a romantic episode of Schumann's life. In
+1836 Robena Laidlaw, though only sixteen, was Court pianist of the Queen of
+Hanover, and her fame had already spread over Germany, England, and Russia.
+She played his music for him, followed his inspirations, and rejoiced at
+the flights of his genius. They had tasted to the full the delight of
+understanding each other in the beautiful language of music.
+
+[Illustration: "SCHUMANN AND ROBENA LAIDLAW."
+
+FROM THE WATER-COLOUR DRAWING BY J. RAABE.]
+
+One day they were wandering in the Rosenau--the rose-gardens of Leipzig.
+The time of parting had come. His life and hers were unsettled and full of
+plans and ambitions. She was to start for Paris the next day, and to go
+from there to Russia to play before the Czar and the Imperial Court. Did
+they realize their own feelings at the moment, or know how much akin such
+friendship is to love?
+
+He arranged the cushions around her in the little boat upon the lake and
+bade her wait for him; he would bring her a rose as a parting gift. She had
+long to wait, and when he came at last he said, with that melancholy
+expression which, even in his younger years, was already his: "I searched
+so long and could after all only find a rose which is not worthy of you.
+But I will send you a remembrance of the Rosenau."
+
+[Illustration: ROBENA LAIDLAW.
+
+FROM A PAINTING.]
+
+Surfeited with the triumphs which fall naturally to the share of a great
+artiste and a beautiful girl, Robena found, on returning from a State
+concert at St. Petersburg, among many costly gifts of jewels and flowers
+which awaited her, a simple roll of music with the German postmark. It
+contained the twelve _Phantasiestücke_ which are now reckoned among the
+most poetical and beautiful of Schumann's works. He wrote: "I have not
+asked, before sending them to the printer's, your permission to dedicate
+these pieces to you. They are yours, and I hope you will accept them. The
+whole Rosenau with all its romance is in them. Forget me not, and send me
+your portrait soon, as you promised."
+
+[Illustration: "WAGNER IN HIS HOME AT WAHNFRIED."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY W. BECKMANN.
+
+By permission of Rud. Ibach Soln, owners of the Original.]
+
+Wasielewski tells in his "Schumanniana" that he heard him once, shortly
+before his last illness, playing in the twilight, as he loved to do.
+Melodies full of tender beauty floated around; the exquisite piece "des
+Abends," the first of the _Phantasiestücke_; then reminiscences of "des
+Nachts," wild and desperate, as if haunted by loneliness and terror; and
+then again the sweet and tender song of the evening's silent longing. The
+listener outside the door felt his heart nearly burst with emotion, but
+Schumann shut the piano immediately when the door was opened, and no
+allusion to what had passed was possible. Had he returned in this lonely
+moment to the memories of youth? Was it a last and loving greeting to the
+past?
+
+The great composer who gave so much to the world is long laid to rest in
+the cemetery of Bonn, and the waves of the Rhine sing his eternal
+slumber-song, but the _Phantasiestücke_ will live on, and sing of the
+romance which was never told in words.
+
+Robena Laidlaw died only two years ago in London. Among the many souvenirs
+of this brilliant artiste's career was found a withered rose, and written
+by her on a leaflet: "Schumann gave me this rose at the Rosenau, 1836."
+
+Beckmann's picture represents the last of the epoch-making musicians,
+Richard Wagner. We see him discussing "Parsifal," his last and grandest
+work, with his wife and his two faithful friends, Liszt and Hans von
+Wolzogen. Wagner was then already living in his own beautiful home in
+Bayreuth, surrounded by the luxuries he so dearly loved, having as
+companion the woman who understood him best. His battle had been hard, but
+his ultimate conquest was decisive, and we may feel contented in the hope
+that culture is in our days so widespread and advanced that genius is but
+rarely exposed to pay with a life of misery for the halo of its greatness.
+
+
+
+
+The OWNER of the "PATRIARCH".
+
+By Morley Roberts.
+
+
+If anyone cares to look up the _Patriarch_ in Lloyd's List it will be
+discovered that the owner of her was T. Tyser, but it matters very little
+whether she was built of heavier plating than the rules required, or
+whether she was cemented or built under special survey or what not. For T.
+Tyser, otherwise Mr. Thomas Tyser, was not only the owner of the
+_Patriarch_, but also the owner of a dozen other vessels all beginning with
+a "P." He was, moreover, the owner of a large block of land in the heart of
+Melbourne; he had several streets, of which the biggest was Tyser Street,
+S.E., in London, and his banking account was certainly of heavier metal
+than he had any personal use for. He was a rough dog from the north
+country, and in the course of half a century's fight in London he came out
+top dog in his own line and was more or less of a millionaire.
+
+"And he's my uncle," said Geordie Potts; "his sister was my mother, and
+here I am before the stick in one of his old wind-jammers and gettin'
+two-pun-ten in this here _Patriarch_ of his, and hang me if I believe the
+old bloke has another relation in the world. It's hard lines, mates--it's
+hard lines. Don't you allow it's hard lines?"
+
+It was Sunday morning in the south-east trades, and every sail was drawing
+"like a bally droring-master," as Geordie once said, and the "crowd" of the
+_Patriarch_ were all fairly easy in their minds and ready for a discussion.
+
+"_If_ so be you are 'is nevvy, as you state," said the port watch,
+cautiously, "we allow it's hard lines."
+
+"I've stated it frequent," said Geordie, "and it's the truth, the whole
+truth, and nothin' but it, so help me. D'ye think I'd claim to be old
+Tyser's sister's son if I wasn't? I'd scorn to claim it."
+
+"Any man would scorn to be Tyser's sister's son," said the starboard watch.
+"He'd scorn to be 'im unless he was, for Tyser's a mean old dog, ain't he,
+Geordie?"
+
+Geordie thanked his watch-mates for backing him up so.
+
+"That's right, chaps. There's no meaner in the north of England--or the
+south, for that matter--and the way this ship's found is scandalous."
+
+"The grub's horrid," said both watches.
+
+"And look at the gear," said Geordie; "everything ready to part a deal
+easier than my uncle is. I never lays hold of a halliard but I'm thinking
+I'll go on my back if I pulls heavy. Oh, it's a fair scandal!"
+
+He considered the scandal soberly and with some sadness.
+
+"He might leave you some dibs, Geordie," suggested his mate, Jack Braby.
+"He might, after all."
+
+"Not a solitary dime," said Geordie. "Him and me quarrelled because my
+father fought him in the street, and I hit the old hunks with a bit of a
+brick because he got my dad down."
+
+"Wot was the row about?" asked the others, eagerly.
+
+"Nothin' to speak of," said Geordie. "My old man said he was a bloodsucker,
+and that led to words. And I never hurt him to speak of. And yet I've
+shipped in one of his ships, and am as poor as he's rich. He allowed none
+of us would get a farthing; he shouted it out in the market-place and said
+hospitals would get it, because one of his skippers that he'd sacked cut
+him up awful with a staysail hank, and they sewed him very neat at one of
+'em."
+
+"There's nothin' so good in a fight as a staysail 'ank," said Jack Braby,
+contemplatively. "I cut a policeman all to rags wiv one once."
+
+"Was that the time you done three months' 'ard?" asked the port watch.
+
+"Six," said Braby, proudly; "and I told the beak I could do it on my 'ead.
+But, Geordie, if you was owner yourself what would you do?"
+
+"Yes, wot?" asked the rest.
+
+Geordie shook his head and sighed.
+
+"I'd make my ships such that sailormen would be wantin' to pay to go in
+'em," said Geordie. "I've laid awake thinkin' of it."
+
+"Oh, tell us," said all hands, with as much unanimity as if they were
+tailing on to the halliards under the stimulus of "Give us some time to
+blow the man down." "Tell us, Geordie."
+
+"I'd be friends with all my men, for one thing," said Geordie, "and I'd not
+have a single Dutchman in a ship of mine."
+
+The three "Dutchmen" on board, one of whom was a Swede, another a German,
+and the third a Finn, shifted uneasily on their chests, but said nothing.
+
+"And not a Dago," continued the "owner," "and I'd give double wages and
+grog three times a day and tobacco thrown in. And the cook shouldn't be a
+hash-spoiler, but what Frenchies call a _chef_."
+
+"We never heard of that. How d'ye spell it, Geordie?"
+
+"S--H--E--double F," said Geordie; "and it means a man that is known not to
+spoil vittles, as most sea-cooks does, by the very look of him. And when it
+was wet or cold the galley fire should be alight all night. And the skipper
+and the mates should be told by me, and told very stern, that if they
+vallied their billets a continental they'd behave like gents and not cuss
+too much. And there shouldn't be no 'working up,' and any officer of mine
+that was dead on 'dry pulls' on the halliards should have the sack quick.
+And every time a ship of mine came into dock I'd be there, and I'd see what
+the crowd's opinion was of the skipper and the mates. Oh, I'd make my ship
+a Paradise, I would!"
+
+Most of the men nodded approval, but Braby wasn't quite satisfied.
+
+"And would there be grog every time of shortenin' sail, Geordie?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Geordie, "and every time you made sail too."
+
+But an old seaman shook his head.
+
+"'Tis mighty fine, mates, to 'ear Geordie guff as to what 'e'd do," he
+growled, "but I ain't young and I've seed men get rich, and they wasn't in
+the least what they allowed they'd be. Geordie 'ere is one of hus now, and
+'e feels where the shoe pinches; but if so be 'e got rotten with money 'e'd
+be for calling sailormen swine as like as not. And 'e'd wear a topper."
+
+"You're a liar; I wouldn't," roared Geordie.
+
+"Maybe I am a liar," said the old chap, "but I've seen what I've looked at.
+If you was to learn as your uncle was dead now, you'd go aft and set about
+on the poop and see hus doin' pulley-hauley, with a seegar in your teeth.
+Riches spoils a man, and it can't be helped; it 'as to, somehow. I've no
+fault to find with you now, Geordie Potts; for so young a man you're a good
+seaman and a good shipmate (though you _'ave_ called me a liar), but you
+take my word for it, money would make an 'og of you."
+
+And here was matter for high debate which lasted all through the trades,
+through the horse latitudes, and into the region of the brave west winds
+till the _Patriarch_ had made more than half her casting.
+
+"So I'm to be a mean swab and a real swine when I'm rich," said Geordie.
+"Oh, well, have it your own way. There's times some of you makes me feel
+I'd like to make you sit up."
+
+"'Ear, 'ear," said the old fo'c's'le man; "there's the very 'aughty
+richness workin' in his mind, shipmates. What'll the real thing do if 'is
+huncle pegs out sudden?"
+
+It was curious to note that a certain subdued hostility rose up between
+most of the men and Geordie. They sat apart and discussed him. Even Jack
+Braby threw out dark and melancholy hints that they wouldn't be chums any
+more if old Tyser's money came to his nephew. There were at times faint
+suggestions that Geordie was getting touched with his possible prosperity.
+
+"I'll live ashore and have a public-house," said Geordie Potts.
+
+And they picked up Cape Otway light in due time, and ran through Port
+Phillip Heads by-and-by, and came to an anchor off Sandridge. Presently
+they berthed alongside the pier and began to discharge their cargo; and one
+hot day went by like another, till they were empty and began to fill up
+again with wool. In six weeks they were almost ready for sea once more. And
+the very night before they hauled out from their berth and lay at anchor in
+the bay, Geordie went ashore at six o'clock "all by his lonesome," as he
+and Jack Braby had fought over the job which Braby was to get from his mate
+when old Tyser died intestate. And as he got to the end of the pier he met
+a young clerk from the agent's office who knew him by sight.
+
+"I say, I'm in a great hurry," said the boy; "my girl's waiting for me.
+Will you take these letters to Captain Smith, or I'll miss my train back?
+I'll give you a bob."
+
+"Righto!" said Geordie; and he pouched the shilling and the letters, and
+the young fellow ran for his train.
+
+[Illustration: "'JERUSH,' SAID GEORDIE, 'THIS CAN'T BE ME!'"]
+
+"The letters can wait," said Geordie Potts, "but the bob can't, and I've
+five more besides. Jack might have had his whack out of it if he hadn't
+wanted to be my manager when he ain't fit for it."
+
+He put the letters into his pocket and made his way to the Sandridge Arms,
+where he sat and drank by himself. It was seven o'clock, and he was by then
+tolerably "full," before it occurred to him to see if he still had the
+letters. He took them out, and the very first his eyes lighted on was one
+in a long envelope addressed to
+
+    "GEORGE POTTS, ESQ.,
+    c/o Captain Smith,
+    _Patriarch_."
+
+"Jerush," said Geordie, "this can't be me! 'Esq.' is what they puts after
+names of gents. Even the skipper don't have it after his."
+
+He fingered the long envelope and took another drink to consider the matter
+on.
+
+"Snakes! it must be me," he said, as he drew confidence out of his glass;
+"there's no other Potts but me."
+
+He was over-full by now, and he opened the letter and began to read it:--
+
+"MY DEAR SIR----"
+
+"By all that's living," said Geordie, "me 'my dear sir'!"
+
+He went on reading:--
+
+"MY DEAR SIR,--We regret to inform you of the sudden death of your uncle,
+Mr. Thomas Tyser, on the 10th instant. He left no will, and you, as the
+next of kin and heir-at-law, are entitled to all his real and personal
+estate, which is, as you are doubtless aware, very large. According to our
+present estimate it will amount to at least half a million sterling, and as
+we have been his legal advisers for the last twenty years and know all his
+affairs we can assure you that with proper management of certain
+undertakings at present in our hands, it may be much more than our
+estimate. In order that you may return at once we enclose you a draft on
+the Union Bank of Australia for two hundred pounds, and have instructed
+Captain Smith to give you your discharge, which he will, of course, do at
+once.
+
+"We hope, as we have been so long in the confidence of Mr. Tyser, that you
+will see no reason to complain of our care of your interests.
+
+                       "We are, my dear sir,
+
+                         "Your obedient servants,
+
+                           "THOMAS WIGGS AND CO."
+
+"My stars!" said Geordie. And he stared aghast at a square piece of paper,
+which he had reason to believe represented two hundred pounds. "My stars!
+what a pot o' money!"
+
+He gasped and took another drink.
+
+"I'm the owner of the _Patriarch_," he said, and grasping all the letters
+and his two-hundred-pound draft he rammed them down into the bottom of his
+inside breast-pocket. "I'm the owner of--hic--the--hic--_Patriarch_."
+
+He came out of his corner and went to the bar.
+
+"Gimme a drink--an expensive drink, one that'll cost five bob," he demanded
+of the barman.
+
+"You'd better have a bottle o' brandy," said the barman.
+
+"I wants the best."
+
+"This is Hennessy's forty star brandy," said the liar behind the bar.
+"There's no better in the world."
+
+And Geordie retreated with the bottle to his corner and took a long drink
+of a poisonous compound which contained as much insanity in it as a small
+lunatic asylum. He came back to the bar presently and told the barman that
+he was a millionaire.
+
+"I own half Newcastle and a lot of Bourke Street, Melbourne, and a baker's
+dozen of ships, and lumps of London!" said Geordie.
+
+"Lend me a thousand pounds till to-morrow," said the barman.
+
+"I like you--hic--I'll do it," said Geordie, and with that he fell headlong
+and forgot his wealth. They dragged him outside on the veranda and let him
+lie in the cool of the evening. He was picked up there two hours later by
+Jack Braby and some of the starboard watch and taken on board.
+
+"He let on he was a millionaire," said the barman, contemptuously.
+
+Braby shook his head.
+
+"Ah, he's liable to allow that when he's full, sir," said Braby.
+
+But that fatal bottle kept Geordie Potts wholly insensible till they were
+outside the Heads again and on their way to England, with the smoke of the
+tug-boat far astern. And presently the second mate, Mr. Brose, who was a
+very rough sort of dog, and had sweated his way up to his present exalted
+rank from that of a foremast hand, hauled Geordie out by the collar of his
+coat, and had him brought to by means of a bucketful of nice Bass's Straits
+water. Geordie gasped like a dying dolphin, but came to rapidly.
+
+"I'll teach you to get drunk, you swab," said Brose. "Take them wet things
+off and turn to."
+
+And Geordie obeyed like a child in the presence of _force majeure_.
+
+"Oh, I've got a head," he told his mates, "and it seems to me that I had a
+most extraordinary dream."
+
+"Wot did you dream of, old Cocklywax?" asked Braby; "did you dream you'd
+come in for old Tyser's money?"
+
+And Geordie gasped.
+
+"S'help me," he murmured. "S'help me, did I dream?"
+
+He dropped his marline-spike as if it were red hot and made a break for the
+fo'c's'le and his wet coat.
+
+"Now if so be I dreamed," he said, "there'll be naught in this pocket. And
+if I didn't, I'm jiggered."
+
+He put his hand in and brought out a handful of damp and crushed letters,
+and came out upon deck staggering. Mr. Brose saw him, and was on his tracks
+like a fish-hawk on a herring-gull. Geordie saw him coming and stood
+open-mouthed.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Geordie. "Oh, sir----"
+
+"Oh, rot," said Brose; "what's your little shenanakin game? Get to work, or
+I'll have you soused till you're half dead."
+
+But Geordie could explain nothing.
+
+"Oh, sir," he stammered, and held up his papers, shaking them feebly. And
+Brose shook him, anything but feebly, so that Geordie's teeth chattered.
+
+"If you please, sir," he cried out at last, "if you please, sir, don't. I
+owns her."
+
+"You owns wot?" demanded Brose; and the rest of the men edged as near as
+they dared.
+
+[Illustration: "BROSE SHOOK HIS MATE ONCE MORE."]
+
+"He's drunk still," said Braby, as Brose shook his mate once more.
+
+"I owns the bally _Patriarch_," screamed Geordie, "and all the rest of 'em,
+and all my uncle's richness, and I won't be shook, I won't!"
+
+And Brose let him go.
+
+"You're mad," said Brose, "you're mad."
+
+"I ain't," roared Geordie, who was fast recovering from the shock, "I
+ain't. Take these; read 'em--read 'em out; let the skipper read 'em. I owns
+the _Patriarch_ and the _Palermo_ and the _Proosian_ and the whole line.
+The lawyer says so!"
+
+He put the lot of damp letters into Mr. Brose's hands and sat down on the
+spare top-mast lashed under the rail.
+
+"There's letters for the captain 'ere," said Brose, suspiciously; "'ow did
+you get 'em?"
+
+"'Twas a youngster from the office give 'em me," replied Geordie, "and I
+took a drink first, and there was one for me, and it said so--said I was
+the owner, said it plain."
+
+And when Brose had read the opened letter he gasped too and went aft to see
+the skipper. The rest of the watch gathered round Geordie and spoke in
+awe-struck whispers.
+
+"Is it true, Geordie?"
+
+"Gospel," said Geordie. "It's swore to. They sends me two hundred quid in a
+paper."
+
+"Show us," said the starbowlines, "show us."
+
+"'Tis in the paper the second has," said Geordie. "It's wrote, 'Pay George
+Potts, Esq., two hundred quid on the nail.'"
+
+"I'd never 'ave let the second 'ave it," said Braby. "Like as not 'e'll
+keep it."
+
+"Then I'll sack him," said Geordie, firmly. "Let him dare try to keep it,
+and I'll sack him and not pay him no wages."
+
+"This is a very strange game, this is," said Braby. "I never 'eard tell of
+the likes. Did they put 'Esk' on your letter?"
+
+"They done so," said Geordie. "I've seen uncle's letters and they done so
+to him."
+
+"Then it must be true," said Braby. "They only puts 'Esk' on gents'
+letters."
+
+And Williams, the steward, was observed coming for'ard scratching his head.
+
+"Where the deuce am I?" asked Williams, "and wot's the game? I'm sent by
+the captain to say, 'Will Mr. Potts step into the cabin?'"
+
+They all looked at Geordie.
+
+"Mr. Potts? Why, that's you, Geordie."
+
+"I s'pose it must be," said the owner. "Must I go, mates?"
+
+"Of course," cried Braby.
+
+But Geordie fidgeted.
+
+"I could go in if we were painting of her cabin," he murmured; "but to talk
+with the skipper----"
+
+That evidently disgruntled him.
+
+"'Tis your own cabin any'ow," said Braby. "I'd walk in like a lord."
+
+"Well, I s'pose I must," said Geordie, reluctantly, and he went aft with
+Williams.
+
+"And you're the owner?" asked Williams.
+
+Geordie sighed.
+
+"So it seems, stooard," he admitted.
+
+"It licks creation," said Williams.
+
+"So it does," said Geordie, and the next moment he found himself announced
+as "Mr. Potts," and he stood before the captain with his cap in his hand,
+looking as if he was about to be put in irons for mutiny; but, as a matter
+of fact, the old skipper was a deal more nervous than he was.
+
+"This seems all correct, Mr. Potts," said Smith.
+
+"Does it, sir?" asked Geordie. "I'm very sorry, sir, but it ain't my fault,
+sir. I never meant--at least, I never allowed my uncle would do it, because
+my father, sir, said he was a bloodsucker, and they fought, and I hit uncle
+with a brick, sir, to make him let go of father's beard."
+
+"Oh, yes, to be sure," said the captain, nervously, "but I'm thinking what
+to do. It's a very anomalous situation for you to be here, Potts--Mr.
+Potts, I mean."
+
+But Geordie held up his hand.
+
+"I'd _much_ rather be Potts, sir, thanking you all the same."
+
+"I couldn't do it," replied the skipper. "I was thinking that you might
+like me to put back to Melbourne?"
+
+"Wot for, sir?" demanded the owner.
+
+"So that you could go home in a P. and O. boat," said old Smith.
+
+"Thanking you kindly, sir," replied Geordie, "I'd rather stay in the
+_Patriarch_. I don't like steamers and never did."
+
+He had a vague notion that the skipper wanted him to go home before the
+mast in one.
+
+"Then you wish me not to put back, Mr. Potts?" said Smith.
+
+"I'd very much rather not, sir," replied Geordie. "I'm very happy here,
+sir, and takin' it all round the _Patriarch's_ a comfortable ship, sir. May
+I go for'ard now, sir?"
+
+He made a step for the cabin door.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said old Smith, "you mustn't; you must have a berth
+here and be a passenger."
+
+The skipper's obvious nervousness was not without its effect upon the new
+owner. For old Smith knew that if he lost his present billet he was not
+likely to find another one, and he had nothing saved to speak of. So
+somehow, and without knowing why, Geordie, without being in the least
+disrespectful, was more decided in his answer than he would have been if
+the "old man" had showed himself as hard and severe as usual.
+
+"Not me," said Geordie, "not me, sir; I wouldn't and I couldn't. I'd be
+that uncomfortable--oh, a passenger, good evings, no!"
+
+"But bein' owner you _can't_ stay for'ard," urged the skipper.
+
+"Oh, yes, I can, sir," said Geordie; "I'd prefer it."
+
+Smith sighed.
+
+"If you prefer it, of course you must. But if you change your mind you'll
+let me know."
+
+"Right--I will, sir," said Geordie.
+
+The skipper walked with him to the cabin door.
+
+"And if you don't want to work, Mr. Potts, I dare say we can get on without
+your services, though we shall miss them," he said, anxiously.
+
+"I couldn't lie about and do nix," replied Geordie. "I'd die of it."
+
+And away he went for'ard, while the skipper and Mr. Brose and Mr. Ware,
+waked out of his watch below to hear the extraordinary news, discussed the
+situation.
+
+"And 'ave I to call 'im Mr. Potts?" asked Brose, with a pathetic air of
+disgust.
+
+"I say so," replied the skipper. "I can't afford, Brose, as you know, to
+lose this job. And old Tyser promised me a kind of marine superintendent's
+billet when I left the _Patriarch_, and I dessay this young chap will act
+decent about it."
+
+"I'm fair knocked," replied Ware. "I'm jolly glad that he ain't in my
+watch. This is hard lines on you, Brose."
+
+"If you please, Mr. Potts, will you be so good has to be so kind has to be
+so hobliging as to go and over'aul the gear on the main," piped Brose, in
+furious mockery, "Oh, this is 'ard!"
+
+"Far from it," said old Smith; "you ought to be proud. It ain't every
+second mate has a millionaire owner in his watch."
+
+But Brose was sullen.
+
+"You mark me, this josser won't do no 'and's turn that 'e don't like."
+
+And for'ard the crowd said the same. As a result, for at least ten days
+Geordie Potts worked very well indeed. But, of course, Brose, under the
+skipper's orders, gave him all the soft jobs that were going. The second
+mate got into a mode of exaggerated courtesy which was almost painful.
+
+"Be so good, Mr. Potts, as to put a nice, neat Matthew Walker on this 'ere
+lanyard."
+
+Or--
+
+"Mr. Potts, please be kind enough to go aloft and stop that spilling line
+to the jack-stay."
+
+And at meal times the port watch mimicked Brose.
+
+"Dear Mr. Potts, howner, be so good as to heat this 'orrid 'ash without
+growling."
+
+And presently, when the weather began to get cold and the men brought out
+their Cape Horn pea-jackets and their mitts, Geordie commenced to growl a
+little.
+
+[Illustration: "'IF YOU DON'T WANT TO WORK, MR. POTTS, I DARESAY WE CAN GET
+ON WITHOUT YOUR SERVICES,' HE SAID."]
+
+"I hates turnin' out in the gravy-eye watch worse and worse," he said.
+"I've half a mind to let on I'm sick."
+
+"You'd better go haft and tell the old man to 'ave the galley fire kep'
+alight all night," said the crowd, crossly. "But you dasn't."
+
+"I dast," said Geordie; "why, I owns the bally galley!"
+
+"You dasn't!"
+
+"I will," said Geordie. And next morning he went aft and touched his cap to
+the skipper and begged to be allowed to speak to him.
+
+"The galley fire at night?" said Smith. "Oh, certainly, Mr. Potts. I never
+done it because it was against the horders of your late revered huncle,
+sir."
+
+"He was as mean as mean," said Geordie; "I think I can afford the fire,
+sir."
+
+The fire was lighted and the crowd said Geordie was the right sort.
+
+"And wot about the gear, Mr. Howner?" asked Jack Braby. "If I was you,
+before it gets too rotten cold I'd 'ave a real over'aulin' of things."
+
+"I'll think of it," said Geordie. And that very afternoon he tackled Brose.
+
+"The gear's tolerable rotten, sir," he began. And the second greaser knew
+he was right and yet didn't like to say so. He yearned to curse him. "And
+I'm thinkin'," said Geordie, "it would be a good thing to get up new stuff
+and overhaul everything. I risks my life every time I goes aloft. The very
+reef earings would part if a schoolgirl yanked at 'em."
+
+"You'd better speak to Mr. Ware," said Brose, choking.
+
+And at eight bells Geordie spoke to the chief officer, who was quite as
+anxious as the skipper to keep his billet.
+
+"It shall be done, Mr. Potts," said Ware.
+
+In the first watch that night Geordie felt very tired, and said so. When it
+was eight bells in the middle watch he was still asleep, or pretended to
+be.
+
+"Rouse out, howner," said Braby, and he shook Geordie up.
+
+"I feels tolerable ill," said Geordie; "I don't think I shall turn out."
+
+He didn't, and the rest of the port watch went on deck by themselves. At
+the muster Mr. Potts didn't answer to his name.
+
+"Mr. Potts is hill, sir," said the obsequious watch; "'e said 'e couldn't
+turn out."
+
+"I thought it would come soon," said Brose to himself. And he went for'ard
+to the fo'c's'le.
+
+"Are you _very_ ill?" he asked, drily.
+
+"I don't know quite how I feel," said the owner, "but I thinks a little
+drop of brandy would do me good."
+
+"I wish I could poison it," said Brose, under his voice. "This is most
+'umiliatin' to a man in the persition of an officer."
+
+By noon Geordie was well enough to sit on deck and smoke a pipe. The "old
+man" came to see him.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a berth aft now, Mr. Potts?" urged the skipper.
+
+"I'll think about it, captain," said Geordie. "And in the meantime I don't
+think I'll turn to."
+
+The skipper turned to Brose.
+
+"We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?"
+
+"Certingly," said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great
+Pacific.
+
+From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his
+trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do
+that no longer.
+
+"If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage, I'll double your
+wages," he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning
+Geordie went to the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather
+poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency such a thing is next
+door to gross insubordination at sea.
+
+"I ain't goin' to take no more wheels," said Geordie. "And Braby will take
+mine. I've doubled his wages."
+
+Even old Smith gasped. As for Brose, he felt sea-sick for the first time
+since he first went down Channel in an outward-bounder thirty years before.
+
+"I'll make a note of it," said the skipper.
+
+They shortened sail in a quick flurry of a gale out of the south-west later
+in the day, and as all the topsails were down on the cap at once it was
+"jump," and no mistake. As an act of kindly condescension the owner went to
+the wheel and shoved away the Dutchman there, who was congratulating
+himself on not being on a topsail yard.
+
+"Get aloft, you Dutch swab," said Geordie; "I'll take her for you."
+
+And Mr. Ware bellowed like a bull, for he had a fine foretopsail voice, and
+when it was a real breeze his language rose with the seas and was fine and
+flowery, vigorous and ornamental, and magnificent. While he was in the
+middle of a peroration which would have excited envy in Cicero, or Burke,
+or a barrister with no case, he heard the owner shouting; for a private
+interview with the steward had given Geordie great confidence.
+
+"Mr. Ware, Mr. Ware, I'd be glad if you'd cuss the men less. I don't like
+it."
+
+The chief officer collapsed as if he were a balloon with a hole in it. And
+for the next minute he and the skipper engaged in an excited conversation.
+
+"I can't--can't stand it," said Ware.
+
+"You must," said old Smith, almost tearfully.
+
+And Ware did stand it. But when the _Patriarch_ was shortened down and he
+left the deck, he went below and swore very horribly for five minutes by
+any chronometer.
+
+"Now I know what Brose feels," said Ware. "I've a great sympathy for poor
+Brose."
+
+The owner ordered a tot for all hands when they came down from aloft. And
+he called the cook aft and harangued him from the break of the poop.
+
+"Now, Mr. Spoil-Grub, mind you cook better than you've been doin', or I'll
+have you ducked in a tub and set your mate to do your work."
+
+He turned to the skipper with a beaming smile in his blue eyes.
+
+"I can talk straight, can't I, cap?" he hiccoughed, blandly. "I'm thinkin'
+I'll lie down in the cabin."
+
+And when the old man went below he found Geordie dossing in his own sacred
+bunk. The poor old chap went and sat in the cabin and put his head on his
+hands.
+
+"This is a most horrid experience," he said, mournfully. "I don't like
+howners on board--I don't like 'em a bit."
+
+But it was not only the after-guard who suffered. Geordie shifted his
+dunnage aft at last, and though when he was sober he left the skipper's
+berth, he made himself very comfortable in the steward's. And he loafed
+about all day on deck with his pipe in his mouth. He began to look at the
+men with alien eyes.
+
+"I tell you they're loafin'," said he to Ware. "Don't I know 'em? They
+watches you like cats, and when your eyes are off 'em they do nothin'. I'm
+payin' 'em to work and I'm payin' you to make 'em. There's a leak
+somewhere."
+
+And he addressed the crowd from the poop.
+
+"You're a lazy lot," he said, "that's wot you are. For two pins I'd put out
+the galley fire, and I'd cut off your afternoon watch below."
+
+And next day he raised their wages. A week later he cut them down again.
+The skipper had a hard job to keep track of what the ship owed them.
+
+"I wish we was home," groaned old Smith. "Oh, he'll be a terror of an
+owner!"
+
+"I'll murder him," said Brose.
+
+"Wot did I tell you chaps about the 'orrid effecs of sudden richness on a
+man?" asked the old fo'c's'le man for'ard. "Geordie Potts was a good sort,
+but Mr. George Potts, Esquire, is an 'oly terror. 'E raises hus hup and
+cuts hus down like grass."
+
+And it presently came about that the only time they had any peace was when
+Geordie was very much intoxicated. But when they got into the calms of
+Capricorn on the home stretch to the north he developed a taste for
+gambling and made the old skipper sit up all night playing "brag" for huge
+sums of money.
+
+"I lends you the dibs, and, win or lose, it's all hunky for you," said
+Geordie. He made out orders to pay the "old man" several thousand pounds,
+and Smith began to feel rich. Then Geordie raked Ware into the game. At
+last even Brose succumbed to the lure of "I promises to pay Mr. Brose five
+hundred on the nail," and joined the gamble.
+
+"This is a dash comfortable ship," said Geordie. "What's a few thousand to
+me? I don't mind losin'. Stooard, bring rum."
+
+[Illustration: "HE ADDRESSED THE CROWD FROM THE POOP."]
+
+By the time they picked up the north-east trades poor old Smith owed the
+"owner" ten thousand pounds. Ware was five thousand to the good, and Brose,
+who had played poker in California, was worth fifteen thousand in strange
+paper. He began to dream of a row of houses with a public-house at each
+end. He and Geordie grew quite thick and compared public-house ideals.
+
+"I'm goin' to buy a hotel," said Geordie; "there's one in Trafalgar
+Square, London, as I've in my mind. I'll fit up the bar till it fair blazes
+with golden bottles."
+
+He borrowed the mate's clothes and had a roaring time, and then they came
+into the Channel and picked up a tug, and went round the Foreland into
+London river.
+
+"I'll bet lawyers and so on will be down to meet me," said Geordie.
+"They'll be full up with gold. To think of it! And to think I hit my poor
+old uncle with a brick!"
+
+He mourned over his brutality.
+
+"He wasn't half a bad chap," he said, "and I don't see what call my dad had
+to call him a bloodsucker after all."
+
+They docked in the South-West Dock, and sure enough they had not been
+alongside their berth five minutes before old Tyser's usual London agent
+and a very legal-looking person came on board.
+
+"Let me introduce you to the new owner," said the obsequious skipper, as he
+led up Geordie, who had a smile on him large enough to cut a mainsail out
+of.
+
+"Oh," said the lawyer, "then this is Mr. Potts?"
+
+"That's me," said Geordie. "Have you brought any money with you? I owes Mr.
+Ware five thousand and Mr. Brose fifteen."
+
+The lawyer smiled.
+
+"I'm afraid there's some mistake, Mr. Potts. Your uncle left a will after
+all."
+
+[Illustration: "I'M AFRAID THERE'S SOME MISTAKE, MR. POTTS."]
+
+Geordie's jaw dropped and so did Ware's. But Brose's fell as falls the
+barometer in the centre of a cyclone.
+
+"And me--did he leave me nothin'?" roared Geordie.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the solicitor. "Mr. Gray, will you kindly give me that
+cash-box you are carrying?"
+
+And the agent handed him the cash-box. "He left you this," said the lawyer.
+"And in this sealed envelope is the key."
+
+Geordie grabbed the box eagerly.
+
+"It's heavy," he said, "it's tolerable heavy."
+
+And putting it on the rail he opened it with the key.
+
+There was half a brick in it.
+
+
+
+
+_Detectives at School._
+
+M. BERTILLON'S NEW METHOD OF DESCRIPTIVE PORTRAITS.
+
+BY ALDER ANDERSON.
+
+
+[Illustration: DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LECTURE ON THE METHOD OF
+IDENTIFICATION BY NOSES.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The painter and the writer, the world has been assured repeatedly by the
+very highest authorities, can never encroach very far on each other's
+domains. Whereas a picture conveys the same idea to every beholder, so far
+at least as the outward aspect of the personages represented is concerned,
+a mere description can only give such vague and hazy outlines that the
+ideas of no two readers need ever be identical. How is it that no critic
+has ever suggested that this apparent inferiority of literature might,
+perhaps, simply be lack of science on the part of the author? Such,
+however, would appear to be the logical deduction to be drawn from the
+innovation which M. Bertillon, after ten years' persistent efforts, has
+recently succeeded in getting officially adopted by the Paris Detective
+Police.
+
+M. Bertillon has proved that the appearance of any individual may be
+expressed in terms so clear, precise, and unequivocal that identically the
+same image is evoked in the mind of everybody who hears or reads the
+description. With nothing else but such a description to guide him in his
+search, anybody of normal intelligence is able, after a few lessons from
+the inventor of the system, to unerringly pick out the person indicated
+from a crowd, however great, and in an incredibly short time. The new
+method materially adds to the efficacy of the anthropometrical system of
+identification, with which the name of Bertillon, the inventor of the
+"thumb-prints" method, is inseparably connected. A brief outline of that
+system may here be given.
+
+The variety of Nature is infinite; she never repeats herself. No two leaves
+are ever precisely alike, much less two human beings. A superficial
+observer may fancy that two individuals resemble each other in a remarkable
+manner. Let him examine them more attentively; he will find that they
+differ radically in almost every detail. The farther he carries his
+examination the more numerous and the more conspicuous will the differences
+appear, until at last he may almost experience a difficulty in discovering
+any trace of the resemblance that before seemed so striking. This is a
+_résumé_ of some of the principal axioms at the base of M. Bertillon's
+teaching.
+
+Every person, then, who for one reason or another comes within the power of
+the law in France and in some other countries is photographed and measured
+in prevision of his transgressing on some future occasion.
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL, TAKEN IN PROFILE AND
+FULL FACE.]
+
+[Illustration: THIS IS THE SAME CRIMINAL, WHO WAS IDENTIFIED BY A DETECTIVE
+AND ARRESTED ON THE EVIDENCE OF HIS EARS.]
+
+The complete description and measurements are transferred to a piece of
+thin cardboard, on which are also pasted two photographs of the
+subject--one full face, the other in profile, both reduced to one-seventh
+of life size. This is termed the prisoner's "fiche," which is now put away
+for future reference. Every year about twelve thousand "fiches" are thus
+added to the collection in Paris. In ten years this means one hundred and
+twenty thousand; in twenty years nearly a quarter of a million.
+
+Let us assume now that a crime has been committed. All the evidence tends
+to prove that the culprit is none other than a certain man who passed
+through M. Bertillon's hands some years ago. His "fiche" is taken out, and
+copies of the photograph on it are distributed in the usual quarters. This
+old photograph is the only guide the police have by which to identify the
+fugitive. In the interval that has elapsed since it was taken, however, the
+man's outward appearance may have so completely changed that he might now
+walk under the very nose of the cleverest detectives in Europe, trained in
+the old school, without being recognised. Just such a case occurred quite
+recently in Paris, and was specially taken in hand by one of the most
+experienced men the "Sûreté" possessed at the time, but without result. Six
+months later a comparatively inexperienced detective arrested the criminal,
+who was on the point of embarking for America. Trained by M. Bertillon's
+new method to concentrate his attention exclusively on features which
+hardly ever vary, and to neglect entirely such accidental details as the
+fashion of wearing the hair and beard and the apparel, he had at once
+recognised the person he was in search of by the characteristic shape of
+ears and nose. This case is given in the accompanying photographs.
+
+The contrary case to the foregoing instance--that is to say, the arrest of
+an innocent man, on the ground that he resembled a photograph in the
+detective's possession--used to be an all too frequent occurrence. Not even
+the very keenest of the law's sleuthhounds were able to avoid such
+mistakes. A good example is shown in the photographs next reproduced.
+Innumerable instances, too, are recorded of people claiming, as that of a
+brother, a husband, or a son who had disappeared, a body which, had they
+but been M. Bertillon's pupils for an hour, they could never by any
+possibility have confounded with their missing relative. So persuaded have
+women often been of the accuracy of their own judgment that there have been
+cases in which they have at first indignantly repudiated the husband or son
+who subsequently reappears on the scene in flesh and blood and seeks to
+prove that he is not dead after all.
+
+A detective is now taught that he must use the photograph he is supplied
+with merely as a check, to make assurance doubly sure, before he ventures
+on an arrest. What he must principally rely upon is the visual portrait he
+can evoke in his own imagination, a portrait which, he is told, is only
+valuable so far as he is able to describe it in words. That which we cannot
+clearly describe we cannot clearly conceive, is the pith of M. Bertillon's
+teaching. The pupil is, consequently, made to analyze each feature of the
+photograph separately, and express the result in certain conventional
+formulæ that convey a definite meaning to his own mind and to the mind of
+everybody else who has studied the same method. He makes, in fact, "a
+portrait in words."
+
+The feature that presents the greatest diversity of form and size is the
+ear, and, strangely enough, the ear is precisely a feature which we hardly
+ever consciously look at. It has been reserved for M. Bertillon to point
+out how admirably it is adapted for the purpose of establishing a person's
+identity. The size of the ear, the relative proportions to one another of
+the folds, its contour, the surface and shape of the lobe, the manner the
+lobe is attached to the cheek, and the inclination of the bottom interior
+ridge known as the antitragus differ most materially in every individual.
+Let a modern French detective describe an ear as "Deq. cav. vex. tra. sep";
+all his colleagues are immediately able to form a mental image of the
+description of ear he means.
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL.]
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE PORTRAITS OF AN INNOCENT MAN WHO WAS ARRESTED BY
+AN UNTRAINED DETECTIVE AS BEING THE SAME MAN, BUT HIS EARS ALONE WERE
+SUFFICIENT TO ACQUIT HIM.]
+
+Similarly for the nose, of which three main varieties are recognised,
+according as the line of the back is concave, rectilinear, or convex. Each
+of these three principal classes is divided into three divisions according
+to the direction of the base line--ascending, horizontal, or descending.
+The degree of concavity or convexity of the line of the nose, as well as
+the degree in which the base line descends or mounts, is indicated in very
+simple fashion by putting the term denoting the form into brackets or
+underlining it. Thus a moderately concave-backed nose is expressed by the
+abbreviation "cav."; if the concavity is very slightly marked by (cav.);
+and, if very accentuated, by _cav._ Noses of which the line is very sinuous
+or arched are denoted by the abbreviations "s" and "a." A nose described as
+_cav._ (s) would have a very strongly-marked concavity and be slightly
+sinuous, whereas (cav.) _s_ would denote a nose but slightly concave, but
+with a very sinuous outline. The form of the root of the nose is also
+indicated in similar fashion to the back and base. So much for the shape of
+the nose. Its dimensions relatively to the face, its width, length, and
+degree of projection, are also indicated, for it is evident that size is
+quite independent of shape.
+
+The degree of inclination of the forehead is another feature that is noted,
+as well as the general aspect of the complexion, colour of hair and eyes,
+and anything about the face that is in the least abnormal.
+
+The entire course of instruction in "word-portraits" extends over thirty
+lessons of two hours each. At the end of the course an examination is held,
+in which the pupil must acquit himself honourably in the practical tests
+imposed upon him, if he wishes to obtain the coveted certificate, without
+which he can now hope for no promotion. Several hundred persons are
+assembled; with the exception of a few privileged strangers, almost all are
+connected directly or indirectly with the various services of the police
+administration. M. Bertillon or his principal lieutenant, M. Payen, hands a
+slip of paper to the candidate, containing some such brief indications as
+the following: "R--cav. (deq.) cav. × 1·62. O. 1878." "Pick out the person
+to whom this refers," adds the examiner. In an incredibly short space of
+time one of the audience finds himself "under arrest." The figures 1·62, it
+may be said, denote the person's height; "O" stands for orange-coloured
+eyes; and 1878 denotes, approximately, the year of birth--that is, that he
+is now about twenty-six years of age.
+
+[Illustration: DIFFERENT TYPES OF EARS FROM THE CLASSIFICATION-BOOK.]
+
+We have the authority of our cleverest modern humorist for the statement
+that the burglar and the cut-throat like a little innocent amusement
+occasionally; what wonder, then, if the austere detective does also? His
+chiefs, therefore, thoughtfully turn these examinations into occasions of
+grave merry-making by giving one or other of the examinees a descriptive
+portrait of some high functionary, perhaps of the Prefect of Police
+himself, should he be present. The fledgeling is thus placed in a dilemma;
+he must either display his incompetence or do violence to all his notions
+of respect for the official hierarchy, and put a disrespectful hand on one
+of the few shoulders in the world that he has looked upon as sacred. The
+manner in which the luckless wight acquits himself of his invidious task
+forms the theme of many a conversation in the "highest detective circles"
+of the French capital for the next week or so.
+
+M. Bertillon has recently compiled an album containing about fifteen
+hundred photographs of the most notorious French criminals, classified
+exclusively by the shape of their ears and noses and their height. The man
+whose portrait figures in this blackest of black books has, at any rate,
+the satisfaction of knowing that his physiognomy will not disappear from
+the world without leaving some memories behind it.
+
+Other black books contain portraits of foreigners of different
+nationalities. The writer was allowed to peep into that relating to
+"English and American" malefactors who are at loggerheads with the Paris
+Prefecture of Police, and was patriotically pleased to find that their
+total number--five hundred--is only one-fifth that of the Belgians. A very
+large proportion, too, of these _soi-disant_ English and American citizens,
+if their names are any criterion, might be Russians, Danes, Turks, or
+Prussians, but are certainly not Englishmen. Anglo-Saxondom may flatter
+herself that, in so far as France is concerned, she is a most exemplary
+race.
+
+When the practice of portraits in words becomes generalized, as will no
+doubt very soon be the case, members of all those professions at which the
+laws of most countries persist in looking askance will have but a sorry
+time, if, indeed, they are able to subsist at all. Within the space of an
+hour or two telegraph and telephone will have carried a brief but
+unmistakable word-portrait of them to every corner of the civilized world
+if necessary. In large towns like London and Paris, twenty thousand pairs
+of trained eyes, covering the entire area of the city, can be set
+simultaneously on the search for the fugitive murderer or burglar, who will
+discover that the old methods of disguise are of but little use to him. A
+rumour that certain London banks contemplated having all their _employés_
+measured and photographed on M. Bertillon's system caused a considerable
+amount of murmuring recently, the measure being considered as somewhat
+derogatory by the clerks. By this extension of the method, however, their
+portraits can be taken without their knowledge, since neither camera nor
+measuring rule is necessary. Absconding cashiers will, in future, therefore
+have to be remarkably circumspect in their choice of foreign residence.
+Impostors like the claimant to the Tichborne estates, whose trial convulsed
+the Anglo-Saxon world over thirty years ago, will be given short shrift. It
+may be remarked, however, that one of the principal points brought forward
+at the trial to prove that the Claimant was not the man he pretended to be
+was precisely that the lobe of his ear was quite differently formed to the
+lobe of the real Roger Tichborne. This only proves once more the old adage
+that under the sun there is nothing new.
+
+[Illustration: DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LESSON ON EARS.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The writer would here express his thanks to M. Lepine, the Prefect of
+Police, and M. Bertillon for their extreme courtesy in acceding to his
+request to be allowed to attend the course of lessons, and also for
+permission to use the photographs now reproduced.
+
+
+
+
+DIALSTONE LANE[A]
+
+BY W. W. JACOBS
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Mr. Chalk made but a poor breakfast next morning, the effort to display a
+feeling of proper sympathy with Mrs. Chalk, who was presiding in gloomy
+silence at the coffee-pot, and at the same time to maintain an air of
+cheerful innocence as to the cause of her behaviour, being almost beyond
+his powers. He chipped his egg with a painstaking attempt to avoid noise,
+and swallowed each mouthful with a feeble pretence of not knowing that she
+was watching him as he ate. Her glance conveyed a scornful reproach that he
+could eat at all in such circumstances, and, that there might be no mistake
+as to her own feelings, she ostentatiously pushed the toast-rack and
+egg-stand away from her.
+
+"You--you're not eating, my dear," said Mr. Chalk.
+
+"If I ate anything it would choke me," was the reply.
+
+Mr. Chalk affected surprise, but his voice quavered. To cover his
+discomfiture he passed his cup up for more coffee, shivering despite
+himself, as he noticed the elaborate care which Mrs. Chalk displayed in
+rinsing out the cup and filling it to the very brim. Beyond raising her
+eyes to the ceiling when he took another piece of toast, she made no sign.
+
+"You're not looking yourself," ventured Mr. Chalk, after a time.
+
+His wife received the information in scornful silence.
+
+"I've noticed it for some time," said the thoughtful husband, making
+another effort. "It's worried me."
+
+"I'm not getting younger, I know," assented Mrs. Chalk. "But if you think
+that that's any excuse for your goings on, you're mistaken."
+
+Mr. Chalk murmured something to effect that he did not understand her.
+
+"You understand well enough," was the reply. "When that girl came whistling
+over the fence last night you said you thought it was a bird."
+
+"I did," said Mr. Chalk, hastily taking a spoonful of egg.
+
+Mrs. Chalk's face flamed. "What sort of bird?" she demanded.
+
+"Singin' bird," replied her husband, with nervous glibness.
+
+Mrs. Chalk left the room.
+
+Mr. Chalk finished his breakfast with an effort, and then, moving to the
+window, lit his pipe and sat for some time in moody thought. A little
+natural curiosity as to the identity of the fair whistler would, however,
+not be denied, and the names of Binchester's fairest daughters passed in
+review before him. Almost unconsciously he got up and surveyed himself in
+the glass.
+
+"There's no accounting for tastes," he said to himself, in modest
+explanation.
+
+His mind still dwelt on the subject as he stood in the hall later on in the
+morning, brushing his hat, preparatory to taking his usual walk. Mrs.
+Chalk, upstairs listening, thought that he would never have finished, and
+drew her own conclusions.
+
+With the air of a man whose time hangs upon his hands Mr. Chalk sauntered
+slowly through the narrow by-ways of Binchester. He read all the notices
+pasted on the door of the Town Hall and bought some stamps at the
+post-office, but the morning dragged slowly, and he bent his steps at last
+in the direction of Tredgold's office, in the faint hope of a little
+conversation.
+
+To his surprise, Mr. Tredgold senior was in an unusually affable mood. He
+pushed his papers aside at once, and, motioning his visitor to a chair,
+greeted him with much heartiness.
+
+"Just the man I wanted to see," he said, cheerfully. "I want you to come
+round to my place at eight o'clock to-night. I've just seen Stobell, and
+he's coming too."
+
+"I will if I can," said Mr. Chalk.
+
+"You must come," said the other, seriously. "It's business."
+
+"Business!" said Mr. Chalk. "I don't see----"
+
+"You will to-night," said Mr. Tredgold, with a mysterious smile. "I've sent
+Edward off to town on business, and we sha'n't be interrupted. Good-bye.
+I'm busy."
+
+He shook hands with his visitor and led him to the door; Chalk, after a
+vain attempt to obtain particulars, walked slowly home.
+
+Despite his curiosity it was nearly half-past eight when he arrived at Mr.
+Tredgold's that evening, and was admitted by his host. The latter, with a
+somewhat trite remark about the virtues of punctuality, led the way
+upstairs and threw open the door of his study.
+
+"Here he is," he announced.
+
+A slender figure sitting bolt upright in a large grandfather-chair turned
+at their entrance, and revealed to the astonished Mr. Chalk the expressive
+features of Miss Selina Vickers; facing her at the opposite side of the
+room Mr. Stobell, palpably ruffled, eyed her balefully.
+
+"This is a new client of mine," said Tredgold, indicating Miss Vickers.
+
+Mr. Chalk said "Good evening."
+
+"I tried to get a word with you last night," said Miss Vickers. "I was down
+at the bottom of your garden whistling for over ten minutes as hard as I
+could whistle. I wonder you didn't hear me."
+
+"_Hear_ you!" cried Mr. Chalk, guiltily conscious of a feeling of
+disappointment quite beyond his control. "What do you mean by coming and
+whistling for me, eh? What do you mean by it?"
+
+"I wanted to see you private," said Miss Vickers, calmly, "but it's just as
+well. I went and saw Mr. Tredgold this morning instead."
+
+"On a matter of business," said Mr. Tredgold, looking at her. "She came to
+me, as one of the ordinary public, about some--ha--land she's interested
+in."
+
+"An island," corroborated Miss Vickers.
+
+[Illustration: "'THIS IS A NEW CLIENT OF MINE,' SAID TREDGOLD."]
+
+Mr. Chalk took a chair and looked round in amazement. "What, another?" he
+said, faintly.
+
+Mr. Tredgold coughed. "My client is not a rich woman," he began.
+
+"Chalk knows that," interrupted Mr. Stobell. "The airs and graces that girl
+will give herself if you go on like that----"
+
+"But she has some property there which she is anxious to obtain," continued
+Mr. Tredgold, with a warning glance at the speaker. "That being so----"
+
+"Make him wish he may die first," interposed Miss Vickers, briskly.
+
+"Yes, yes; that's all right," said Tredgold, meeting Mr. Chalk's startled
+gaze.
+
+"It will be when he's done it," retorted the determined Miss Vickers.
+
+"It's a secret," explained Mr. Tredgold, addressing his staring friend.
+"And you must swear to keep it if it's told you. That's what she means.
+I've had to and so has Stobell."
+
+A fierce grunt from Mr. Stobell, who was still suffering from the
+remembrance of an indignity against which he had protested in vain, came as
+confirmation. Then the marvelling Mr. Chalk rose, and instructed by Miss
+Vickers took an oath, the efficacy of which consisted in a fervent hope
+that he might die if he broke it.
+
+"But what's it all about?" he inquired, plaintively.
+
+Mr. Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment's
+hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk.
+With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers's Island,
+which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake. It was impossible to
+mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was promptly
+frustrated by the owner.
+
+"But Captain Bowers said that he had burnt it," he cried.
+
+Mr. Tredgold eyed him coldly. "Burnt what?" he inquired.
+
+"The map," was the reply.
+
+"Just so," said Tredgold. "You told me he had burnt a map."
+
+"Is this another, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"P'r'aps," said Miss Vickers, briefly.
+
+"As the captain said he had burnt his, this _must_ be another," said
+Tredgold.
+
+"Didn't he burn it, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"I should be sorry to disbelieve Captain Bowers," said Tredgold.
+
+"Couldn't be done," said the brooding Stobell, "not if you tried."
+
+Mr. Chalk sat still and eyed them in perplexity.
+
+"There is no doubt that this map refers to the same treasure as the one
+Captain Bowers had," said Tredgold, with the air of one making a generous
+admission. "My client has not volunteered any statement as to how it came
+into her possession----"
+
+"And she's not going to," put in Miss Vickers, dispassionately.
+
+"It is enough for me that we have got it," resumed Mr. Tredgold. "Now, we
+want you to join us in fitting out a ship and recovering the treasure.
+Equal expenses; equal shares."
+
+"What about Captain Bowers?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"He is to have an equal share without any of the expense," said Tredgold.
+"You know he gave us permission to find it if we could, so we are not
+injuring anybody."
+
+"He told us to go and find it, if you remember," said Stobell, "and we're
+going to."
+
+"He'll have a fortune handed to him without any trouble or being
+responsible in any way," said Tredgold, impressively. "I should like to
+think there was somebody working to put a fortune like that into my lap. We
+shall have a fifth each."
+
+"That'll be five--thousand--pounds for you, Selina," said Mr. Stobell, with
+a would-be benevolent smile.
+
+Miss Vickers turned a composed little face upon him and languidly closed
+one eye.
+
+"I had two prizes for arithmetic when I was at school," she remarked; "and
+don't you call me Selina, unless you want to be called Bobbie."
+
+A sharp exclamation from Mr. Tredgold stopped all but the first three words
+of Mr. Stobell's retort, but he said the rest under his breath with
+considerable relish.
+
+"Don't mind him," said Miss Vickers. "I'm half sorry I let him join, now. A
+man that used to work for him once told me that he was only half a
+gentleman, but he'd never seen that half."
+
+Mr. Stobell, afraid to trust himself, got up and leaned out of the window.
+
+"Well, we're all agreed, then," said Tredgold, looking round.
+
+"Half a second," said Miss Vickers. "Before I part with this map you've all
+got to sign a paper promising me my proper share, and to give me twenty
+pounds down."
+
+Mr. Tredgold hesitated and looked serious. Mr. Chalk, somewhat dazed by the
+events of the evening, blinked at him solemnly. Mr. Stobell withdrew his
+head from the window and spoke.
+
+"TWENTY--POUNDS!" he growled.
+
+"Twenty pounds," repeated Miss Vickers, "or four hundred shillings, if you
+like it better. If you wait a moment I'll make it pennies."
+
+She leaned back in her chair and, screwing her eyes tight, began the
+calculation. "Twelve noughts are nought," she said, in a gabbling whisper;
+"twelve noughts are nought, twelve fours are forty----"
+
+"All right," said Mr. Tredgold, who had been regarding this performance
+with astonished disapproval. "You shall have the twenty pounds, but there
+is no necessity for us to sign any paper."
+
+"No, there's no necessity," said Miss Vickers, opening her small, sharp
+eyes again, "only, if you don't do it, I'll find somebody that will."
+
+[Illustration: "MR. TREDGOLD PREPARED TO DRAW UP THE REQUIRED AGREEMENT."]
+
+Mr. Tredgold argued with her, but in vain; Mr. Chalk, taking up the
+argument and expanding it, fared no better; and Mr. Stobell, opening his
+mouth to contribute his mite, was quelled before he could get a word out.
+
+"Them's my terms," said Miss Vickers; "take 'em or leave 'em, just as you
+please. I give you five minutes by the clock to make up your minds; Mr.
+Stobell can have six, because thinking takes him longer. And if you agree
+to do what's right--and I'm letting you off easy--Mr. Tredgold is to keep
+the map and never to let it go out of his sight for a single instant."
+
+She put her head round the side of the chair to make a note of the time,
+and then, sitting upright with her arms folded, awaited their decision.
+Before the time was up the terms were accepted, and Mr. Tredgold, drawing
+his chair to the table, prepared to draw up the required agreement.
+
+He composed several, but none which seemed to give general satisfaction. At
+the seventh attempt, however, he produced an agreement which, alluding in
+vague terms to a treasure quest in the Southern Seas on the strength of a
+map provided by Miss Vickers, promised one-fifth of the sum recovered to
+that lady, and was considered to meet the exigencies of the case. Miss
+Vickers herself, without being enthusiastic, said that she supposed it
+would have to do.
+
+Another copy was avoided, but only with great difficulty, owing to her
+criticism of Mr. Stobell's signature. It took the united and verbose
+efforts of Messrs. Chalk and Tredgold to assure her that it was in his
+usual style, and rather a good signature for him than otherwise. Miss
+Vickers, viewing it with her head on one side, asked whether he couldn't
+make his mark instead; a question which Mr. Stobell, at the pressing
+instance of his friends, left unanswered. Then Tredgold left the room to
+pay a visit to his safe, and, the other two gentlemen turning out their
+pockets, the required sum was made up, and with the agreement handed to
+Miss Vickers in exchange for the map.
+
+She bade them good-night, and then, opening the door, paused with her hand
+on the knob and stood irresolute.
+
+"I hope I've done right," she said, somewhat nervously. "It was no good to
+anybody laying idle and being wasted. I haven't stolen anything."
+
+"No, no," said Tredgold, hastily.
+
+"It seems ridiculous for all that money to be wasted," continued Miss
+Vickers, musingly. "It doesn't belong to anybody, so nobody can be hurt by
+our taking it, and we can do a lot of good with it, if we like. I shall
+give some of mine away to the poor. We all will. I'll have it put in this
+paper."
+
+She fumbled in her bodice for the document, and walked towards them.
+
+"We can't alter it now," said Mr. Tredgold, decidedly.
+
+"We'll do what's right," said Mr. Chalk, reassuringly.
+
+Miss Vickers smiled at him. "Yes, I know _you_ will," she said, graciously,
+"and I think Mr. Tredgold will, but----"
+
+"You're leaving that door open," said Mr. Stobell, coldly, "and the
+draught's blowing my head off, pretty near."
+
+Miss Vickers eyed him scornfully, but in the absence of a crushing reply
+disdained one at all. She contented herself instead by going outside and
+closing the door after her with a sharpness which stirred every hair on his
+head.
+
+"It's a most extraordinary thing," said Mr. Chalk, as the three bent
+exultingly over the map. "I could ha' sworn to this map in a court of
+justice."
+
+"Don't you worry your head about it," advised Mr. Stobell.
+
+"You've got your way at last," said Tredgold, with some severity. "We're
+going for a cruise with you, and here you are raising objections."
+
+"Not objections," remonstrated the other; "and, talking about the voyage,
+what about Mrs. Chalk? She'll want to come."
+
+"So will Mrs. Stobell," said that lady's proprietor, "but she won't."
+
+"She mustn't hear of it till the last moment," said Tredgold,
+dictatorially; "the quieter we keep the whole thing the better. You're not
+to divulge a word of the cruise to anybody. When it does leak out it must
+be understood we are just going for a little pleasure jaunt. Mind, you've
+sworn to keep the whole affair secret."
+
+Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no
+comment.
+
+"The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by
+delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look
+round. My idea is to buy a small, stout sailing-craft second-hand; ship a
+crew ostensibly for a pleasure trip, and sail as soon as possible."
+
+Mr. Chalk's face brightened. "And we'll take some beads, and guns, and
+looking-glasses, and trade with the natives in the different islands we
+pass," he said, cheerfully. "We may as well see something of the world
+while we're about it."
+
+Mr. Tredgold smiled indulgently and said they would see. Messrs. Stobell
+and Chalk, after a final glance at the map and a final perusal of the
+instructions at the back, took their departure.
+
+"It's like a dream," said the latter gentleman, as they walked down the
+High Street.
+
+"That Vickers girl ud like more dreams o' the same sort," said Mr. Stobell,
+as he thrust his hand in his empty pocket.
+
+"It's all very well for you," continued Mr. Chalk, uneasily. "But my wife
+is sure to insist upon coming."
+
+Mr. Stobell sniffed. "I've got a wife too," he remarked.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Chalk, in a burst of unwonted frankness, "but it ain't
+quite the same thing. I've got a wife and Mrs. Stobell has got a
+husband--that's the difference."
+
+Mr. Stobell pondered this remark for the rest of the way home. He came to
+the conclusion that the events of the evening had made Mr. Chalk a little
+light-headed.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Until he stood on the platform on Wednesday morning with his brother
+adventurers Mr. Chalk passed the time in a state of nervous excitement,
+which only tended to confirm his wife in her suspicions of his behaviour.
+Without any preliminaries he would burst out suddenly into snatches of
+sea-songs, the "Bay of Biscay" being an especial favourite, until Mrs.
+Chalk thought fit to observe that, "if the thunder did roar like that she
+should not be afraid of it." Ever sensitive to a fault, Mr. Chalk fell back
+upon "Tom Bowling," which he thought free from openings of that sort, until
+Mrs. Chalk, after commenting upon the inability of the late Mr. Bowling to
+hear the tempest's howling, indulged in idle speculations as to what he
+would have thought of Mr. Chalk's. Tredgold and Stobell bought papers on
+the station, but Mr. Chalk was in too exalted a mood for reading. The
+bustle and life as the train became due were admirably attuned to his
+feelings, and when the train drew up and they embarked, to the clatter of
+milk-cans and the rumbling of trolleys, he was beaming with satisfaction.
+
+"I feel that I can smell the sea already," he remarked.
+
+Mr. Stobell put down his paper and sniffed; then he resumed it again and,
+meeting Mr. Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than
+before.
+
+"Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk,
+leaning over to Tredgold.
+
+[Illustration: "'FINE DAY, GENTLEMEN,' SAID THE STRANGER, AS HE RAISED HIS
+GLASS."]
+
+"Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the last
+possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you are
+going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?"
+
+Mr. Chalk shook his head. "I told her that you had got business there, and
+that I was going with you just for the outing," he said. "What she'll say
+when she finds out----"
+
+His imagination failed him and, a prey to forebodings, he tried to divert
+his mind by looking out of window. His countenance cleared as they neared
+Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side of the
+river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left high and dry
+by the tide.
+
+A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river which
+constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was a goodly
+array of shipping, and Mr. Chalk's pulse beat faster as his gaze wandered
+impartially from a stately barque in all the pride of fresh paint to dingy,
+sea-worn ketches and tiny yachts.
+
+Uncertain how to commence operations, they walked thoughtfully up and down
+the quay. If any of the craft were for sale there was nothing to announce
+the fact, and the various suggestions which Mr. Chalk threw off from time
+to time as to the course they should pursue were hardly noticed.
+
+"One o'clock," said Mr. Stobell, extracting a huge silver timepiece from
+his pocket, after a couple of wasted hours.
+
+"Let's have something to eat before we do any more," said Mr. Tredgold.
+"After that we'll ferry over and look at the other side."
+
+They made their way to the King of Hanover, an old inn, perched on the side
+of the harbour, and, mounting the stairs, entered the coffee-room, where
+Mr. Stobell, after hesitating for some time between the rival claims of
+roast beef and grilled chops, solved the difficulty by ordering both.
+
+The only other occupant of the room, a short, wiry man, with a
+close-shaven, hard-bitten face, sat smoking, with a glass of whisky before
+him, in a bay window at the end of the room, which looked out on the
+harbour. There was a maritime flavour about him which at once enlisted Mr.
+Chalk's sympathies and made him overlook the small, steely-grey eyes and
+large and somewhat brutal mouth.
+
+"Fine day, gentlemen," said the stranger, nodding affably to Mr. Chalk as
+he raised his glass.
+
+Mr. Chalk assented, and began a somewhat minute discussion upon the
+weather, which lasted until the waiter appeared with the lunch.
+
+"Bring me another drop o' whisky, George," said the stranger, as the latter
+was about to leave the room, "and a little stronger, d'ye hear? A man might
+drink this and still be in the Band of Hope."
+
+"We thought it wouldn't do for you to get the chuck out of it after all
+these years, Cap'n Brisket," said George, calmly. "It's a whisky that's
+kept special for teetotalers like you."
+
+Captain Brisket gave a hoarse laugh and winked at Mr. Stobell; that
+gentleman, merely pausing to empty his mouth and drink half a glass of
+beer, winked back.
+
+"Been here before, sir?" inquired the captain.
+
+Mr. Stobell, who was busy again, left the reply to Mr. Chalk.
+
+"Several times," said the latter. "I'm very fond of the sea."
+
+Captain Brisket nodded, and, taking up his glass, moved to the end of their
+table, with the air of a man disposed to conversation.
+
+"There's not much doing in Biddlecombe nowadays," he remarked, shaking his
+head. "Trade ain't what it used to be; ships are more than half their time
+looking for freights. And even when they get them they're hardly worth
+having."
+
+Mr. Chalk started and, leaning over, whispered to Mr. Tredgold.
+
+"No harm in it," said the latter. "Better leave it to me. Shipping's dull,
+then?" he inquired, turning to Captain Brisket.
+
+"Dull?" was the reply. "Dull ain't no name for it."
+
+Mr. Tredgold played with a salt-spoon and frowned thoughtfully.
+
+"We've been looking round for a ship this morning," he said, slowly.
+
+"As passengers?" inquired the captain, staring.
+
+"As owners," put in Mr. Chalk.
+
+Captain Brisket, greatly interested, drew first his glass and then his
+chair a yard nearer. "Do you mean that you want to buy one?" he inquired.
+
+"Well, we might if we could get one cheap," admitted Tredgold, cautiously.
+"We had some sort of an idea of a cruise to the South Pacific; pleasure,
+with perhaps a little trading mixed up with it. I suppose some of these old
+schooners can be picked up for the price of an old song?"
+
+The captain, grating his chair along the floor, came nearer still; so near
+that Mr. Stobell instinctively put out his right elbow.
+
+"You've met just the right man," said Captain Brisket, with a boisterous
+laugh. "I know a schooner, two hundred and forty tons, that is just the
+identical article you're looking for, good as new and sound as a bell. Are
+you going to sail her yourself?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Stobell, without looking up, "he ain't."
+
+"Got a master?" demanded Captain Brisket, with growing excitement. "Don't
+tell me you've got a master."
+
+"Why not?" growled Mr. Stobell, who, having by this time arrived at the
+cheese, felt that he had more leisure for conversation.
+
+"Because," shouted the other, hitting the table a thump with his fist that
+upset half his whisky--"because if you haven't Bill Brisket's your man."
+
+The three gentlemen received this startling intelligence with such a lack
+of enthusiasm that Captain Brisket was fain to cover what in any other man
+might have been regarded as confusion by ringing the bell for George and
+inquiring with great sternness of manner why he had not brought him a full
+glass.
+
+"We can't do things in five minutes," said Mr. Tredgold, after a long and
+somewhat trying pause. "First of all we've got to get a ship."
+
+"The craft you want is over the other side of the harbour waiting for you,"
+said the captain, confidently. "We'll ferry over now if you like, or, if
+you prefer to go by yourselves, do; Bill Brisket is not the man to stand in
+anyone's way, whether he gets anything out of it or not."
+
+"Hold hard," said Mr. Stobell, putting up his hand.
+
+Captain Brisket regarded him with a beaming smile; Mr. Stobell's two
+friends waited patiently.
+
+"What ud a schooner like that fetch?" inquired Mr. Stobell.
+
+"It all depends," said Brisket. "Of course, if I buy--"
+
+Mr. Stobell held up his hand again. "All depends whether you buy it for us
+or sell it for the man it belongs to, I s'pose?" he said, slowly.
+
+Captain Brisket jumped up, and to Mr. Chalk's horror smote the speaker
+heavily on the back. Mr. Stobell, clenching a fist the size of a leg of
+mutton, pushed his chair back and prepared to rise.
+
+"You're a trump," said Captain Brisket, in tones of unmistakable respect,
+"that's what you are. Lord, if I'd got the head for business you have I
+should be a man of fortune by now."
+
+Mr. Stobell, who had half risen, sat down again, and, for the first time
+since his last contract but one, a smile played lightly about the corners
+of his mouth. He took another drink and, shaking his head slightly as he
+put the glass down, smiled again with the air of a man who has been
+reproached for making a pun.
+
+"Let me do it for you," said Captain Brisket, impressively. "I'll tell you
+where to go without being seen in the matter or letting old Todd know that
+I'm in it. Ask him a price and bate him down; when you've got his lowest,
+come to me and give me one pound in every ten I save you."
+
+Mr. Tredgold looked at his friends. "If we do that," he said, turning to
+the captain, "it would be to your interest to buy the ship in any case. How
+are we to be sure she is seaworthy?"
+
+"Ah, there you are!" said Brisket, with an expansive smile. "You let me buy
+for you and promise me the master's berth, provided you are satisfied with
+my credentials. Common sense'll tell you I wouldn't risk my own carcass in
+a rotten ship."
+
+Mr. Stobell nodded approval and, Captain Brisket with unexpected delicacy
+withdrawing to the window and becoming interested in the harbour, conferred
+for some time with his friends. The captain's offer being accepted, subject
+to certain conditions, they settled their bill and made their way to the
+ferry.
+
+"There's the schooner," said the captain, pointing, as they neared the
+opposite shore; "the _Fair Emily_, and the place she is lying at is called
+Todd's Wharf. Ask for Mr. Todd, or, better still, walk straight on to the
+wharf and have a look at her. The old man'll see you fast enough."
+
+He sprang nimbly ashore as the boat's head touched the stairs, and after
+extending a hand to Mr. Chalk, which was coldly ignored, led the way up the
+steps to the quay.
+
+"There's the wharf just along there," he said, pointing up the road. "I'll
+wait for you at the Jack Ashore here. Don't offer him too much to begin
+with."
+
+"I thought of offering a hundred pounds," said Mr. Tredgold. "If the ship's
+sound we can't be very much out over that sum."
+
+Captain Brisket stared at him. "No; don't do that," he said, recovering,
+and speaking with great gravity. "Offer him seventy. Good luck."
+
+He watched them up the road and then, with a mysterious grin, turned into
+the Jack Ashore, and taking a seat in the bar waited patiently for their
+return.
+
+Half an hour passed. The captain had smoked one pipe and was half through
+another. He glanced at the clock over the bar and fidgeted as an unpleasant
+idea that the bargain, despite Mr. Tredgold's ideas as to the value of
+schooners, might have been completed without his assistance occurred to
+him. He took a sip from his glass, and then his face softened as the faint
+sounds of a distant uproar broke upon his ear.
+
+"What's that?" said a customer.
+
+[Illustration: "HIS THREE PATRONS, WITH A HOPELESS ATTEMPT TO APPEAR
+UNCONCERNED, WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD."]
+
+The landlord, who was glancing at the paper, put it down and listened.
+"Sounds like old Todd at it again," he said, coming round to the front of
+the bar.
+
+The noise came closer. "It _is_ old Todd," said another customer, and
+hastily finishing his beer moved with the others to the door. Captain
+Brisket, with a fine air of indifference, lounged after them, and peering
+over their shoulders obtained a good view of the approaching disturbance.
+
+His three patrons, with a hopeless attempt to appear unconcerned, were
+coming down the road, while close behind a respectable-looking old
+gentleman with a long, white beard and a voice like a fog-horn almost
+danced with excitement. They quickened their pace as they neared the inn,
+and Mr. Chalk, throwing appearances to the winds, almost dived through the
+group at the door. He was at once followed by Mr. Tredgold, but Mr.
+Stobell, black with wrath, paused in the doorway.
+
+"FETCH 'EM OUT," vociferated the old gentleman as the landlord barred the
+doorway with his arms. "Fetch that red-whiskered one out and I'll eat him."
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Todd?" inquired the landlord, with a glance at his
+friends. "What's he done?"
+
+"_Done?_" repeated the excitable Mr. Todd. "Done? They come walking on to
+my wharf as if the place----FETCH HIM OUT," he bawled, breaking off
+suddenly. "Fetch him out and I'll skin him alive."
+
+Captain Brisket took Mr. Stobell by the cuff and after a slight altercation
+drew him inside.
+
+"Tell that red-whiskered man to come outside," bawled Mr. Todd. "What's he
+afraid of?"
+
+"What have you been doing to him?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to the
+pallid Mr. Chalk.
+
+"Nothing," was the reply.
+
+"Is he coming out?" demanded the terrible voice, "or have I got to wait
+here all night? Why don't he come outside, and I'll break every bone in his
+body."
+
+Mr. Stobell scratched his head in gloomy perplexity: then, as his gaze fell
+upon the smiling countenances of Mr. Todd's fellow-townsmen, his face
+cleared.
+
+"He's an old man," he said, slowly, "but if any of you would like to step
+outside with me for five minutes, you've only got to say the word, you
+know."
+
+Nobody manifesting any signs of accepting this offer, he turned away and
+took a seat by the side of the indignant Tredgold. Mr. Todd, after a final
+outburst, began to feel exhausted, and forsaking his prey with much
+reluctance allowed himself to be led away. Snatches of a strong and copious
+benediction, only partly mellowed by distance, fell upon the ears of the
+listeners.
+
+"Did you offer him the seventy?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to Mr.
+Tredgold.
+
+"_I_ did," said Mr. Chalk, plaintively.
+
+"Ah," said the captain, regarding him thoughtfully; "perhaps you ought to
+ha' made it eighty. He's asking eight hundred for it, I understand."
+
+Mr. Tredgold turned sharply. "Eight hundred?" he gasped.
+
+The captain nodded, "And I'm not saying it's not worth it," he said, "but I
+might be able to get it for you for six. You'd better leave it to me now."
+
+Mr. Tredgold at first said he would have nothing more to do with it, but
+under the softening influence of a pipe and a glass was induced to
+reconsider his decision. Captain Brisket, waving farewells from the quay as
+they embarked on the ferry-boat later on in the afternoon, bore in his
+pocket the cards of all three gentlemen, together with a commission
+entrusting him with the preliminary negotiations for the purchase of the
+_Fair Emily_.
+
+[Illustration: "CAPTAIN BRISKET WAVING FAREWELLS FROM THE QUAY AS THEY
+EMBARKED."]
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by W. W. Jacobs, in the United States of America.
+
+
+
+
+The ATLANTIC RIVER
+
+BY JULIAN DRAKE.
+
+     [In April of last year the steamer _Miosen_, from
+     Christiania, sailed from New Orleans. Owing to a
+     damaged tail-shaft off Key West she practically drifted
+     from the Straits of Florida to the Färöe Islands. From
+     the captain's notes the following account of the Gulf
+     Stream voyage is transcribed.]
+
+
+What is the greatest river in the world? Naturally every Kindergarten pupil
+would instantly respond by naming the Mississippi, with the Amazon a good
+second. But that is because they are deceived by geographers jealous of the
+prerogative of the land. Hydrographers--as, for example, Sir John Murray,
+K.C.B.--would return a different answer, and it is clear that hydrographers
+ought to know something about water.
+
+The greatest river in the world, then, begins in the vicinity of Key West,
+Florida. There is on the globe no such stupendous flow of waters. It defies
+the severest droughts; in the mightiest floods it never overflows. Its
+current sweeps onward more rapidly than the Mississippi or the Amazon and
+its volume is a thousand times greater. Let us rid our mind of the idea of
+land. The banks and the bottom of this stupendous river are of cold, whilst
+its current is of warm, water. The name of it is the Gulf Stream. It might
+properly be called the Atlantic River. Doubtless many hundreds, even
+thousands, of craft have made the voyage down this river from its source to
+its mouth, and the trip of the _Miosen_, of Christiania, Norway, is only
+remarkable in this: that she virtually drifted the whole distance, four
+thousand two hundred and twelve miles. The _Miosen_ is a Norwegian steamer
+of one thousand two hundred and eighty tons, and carried a cargo of
+molasses, rice, and tobacco from New Orleans to Christiania.
+
+After leaving New Orleans early in April, 1903, she encountered roughish
+weather in the Gulf of Mexico. But it was not until they had passed the
+Tortugas group that Captain Westrup suspected that there was anything
+radically wrong with the machinery. The _Miosen_ was fitted with
+old-fashioned Glasgow engines, and carried a sail in case of emergency. At
+Key West she put in for four days to see if the engineer could patch up the
+propeller sufficiently to enable the vessel to cross the Atlantic. "It was
+at Key West," said Captain Westrup, "I met an old fellow-mariner, a Swede.
+
+"'Going down the river?' he asked.
+
+"I laughed, not understanding the joke.
+
+"'No; I'm crossing the Atlantic,' I replied.
+
+"I then told him about the fractured propeller.
+
+"'Take my advice,' he said, 'and go by the river route. Like as not you'll
+drift the whole way, and if you're in no hurry you can give your engines a
+rest. A single sheet to the wind will do your job.'
+
+"It was the first time I had heard the expression 'river' as applied to
+the Gulf Stream. The idea entertained me. I already began to regard my
+forthcoming trip as a mere jaunt down a river, and with this in my head I
+took pains to note everything of interest connected with this stupendous
+stream. And here let me say that two leagues to the south-east of Key West
+the Gulf mariners point to a buoy labelled in prominent letters 'F. C.,'
+which stands for Florida Channel. It marks the end of the Gulf of Mexico
+and the beginning of the Atlantic River."
+
+[Illustration: THE BUOY IN FLORIDA CHANNEL.]
+
+The machinery of the _Miosen_ was patched up by the 5th April, and on the
+following morning the crew had hoisted her solitary sail and departed from
+Key West. All along south of the Florida reef they had constant glimpses of
+tarpon, devil-fish, and barracuda, the mightiest fish in the Gulf Stream.
+For it must be understood that whales and sharks avoid the greatest river
+in the world. We will explain why later. During the next few days they
+frequently saw tarpon (_Megalops Atlanticus_) six feet long, reminding one
+of gigantic herring. Some of them must have weighed one hundred and fifty
+pounds; and the one which nearly boarded the steamer, leaping into the air
+a foot from the bows of the _Miosen_, was fully this weight.
+
+[Illustration: KEY WEST.
+
+_From a Photo. by the Photochrom Co._]
+
+"I had heard stories at Key West about the barracuda, which is harpooned
+very much in the way whales are, although it is a somewhat smaller fish
+than the tarpon. My friend Captain Altsen told me he had once gone out in a
+small dinghy off the Keys with a Seminole Indian who was an adept at
+spearing barracuda. Armed with a long, slender pole tipped with a barb, to
+which a long rope was fastened, the native had speared the fish, which
+darted away like 'greased lightning,' actually towing the boat a full mile
+before he was hauled aboard exhausted. He said it was pretty exciting
+sport, and jokingly suggested my engaging a school of barracuda to tow the
+_Miosen_ to Stockholm. He observed, however, that they would probably leave
+the ship at Tindhölm, as they only frequent the Gulf Stream.
+
+[Illustration: "THE FISH DARTED AWAY LIKE 'GREASED LIGHTNING.'"]
+
+[Illustration: PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN BY THE MATE OF THE "MIOSEN" IN LATITUDE 30,
+LONGITUDE 82, SHOWING THE DIFFERENT ASPECT OF THE GREAT RIVER AND THE
+OCEAN.]
+
+"I may mention that at the beginning our speed was between four and five
+knots an hour, but we hardly averaged more than about fifty knots a day.
+There was little wind to speak of. On the 8th we had a fair breeze, which
+sent us along a couple of knots faster. The speed of the current is, I am
+told, wholly regulated by the presence or absence of wind; but I give the
+normal time. As we rounded the south coast of Florida we encountered huge
+flocks of birds wending their way northward. Anything more placid and
+beautiful than the Gulf Stream at this point cannot be imagined. The water
+is a brilliant blue, like the Bay of Naples, while in the far distance may
+be seen the dark green of the ocean. The temperature of the water I
+ascertained to be seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit; that of the Atlantic
+could hardly have been above forty-five degrees. Off Bebini we observed a
+curious sight, which more than ever impressed the idea of a river on our
+minds, and this occurred several times in the course of our long trip. The
+presence of a stiff land breeze blew us out of the channel to the very edge
+of the Stream, whose boundaries were here as clearly marked as that of the
+Mississippi. Great quantities of driftwood and flotsam of all sorts,
+including canes and palm leaves, floated in a long, thin line extending for
+miles, forming natural banks to the world's greatest river. My mate took a
+photograph of this phenomenon, together with others, but, unluckily, in
+developing them later, all were more or less spoiled, although some idea
+may be got from the one showing the aspect of the Stream. We also observed
+numerous flying-fish, which, curiously enough, rarely, if ever, deviated
+from the path of the Stream, as if they were quite aware of its course and
+boundaries."
+
+[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHOWING THE COURSE OF THE GULF STREAM.]
+
+From this point the river flows straight to the north, pressing through the
+ocean with a width of nearly thirty-seven miles, and of an average depth of
+two hundred fathoms. The mass of water has been estimated at some
+forty-five millions of cubic yards a second. The mean discharge of the
+Mississippi is barely twenty-five thousand cubic yards.
+
+As the Gulf Stream expands and spreads in its northward and easterly
+course, its depth becomes proportionately less considerable. The strata of
+cold water which serve as its banks retire on each side and allow it more
+breadth. The cold bed of water which bears it, and over which it flows, as
+terrestrial rivers glide over beds of rocks, gradually approaches nearer
+the surface. Off Cape Hatteras the depth is about one hundred and twenty
+fathoms, and its speed does not exceed three miles an hour, but it is twice
+as wide as when it emerges from the Strait of Florida. Its width is here
+seventy-eight miles. Its thickness, of course, constantly diminishes until
+it is only a thin sheet of warm water on the other side of the Atlantic,
+and is gradually dissipated in the sub-Arctic sea.
+
+[Illustration: THE "CITY OF SAVANNAH," WRECKED IN THE GREAT STORMS OF
+1893.]
+
+As the travellers proceeded almost due north the island of Great Bahama
+soon came to form the eastern boundary of the Gulf Stream. In this
+locality many fearful storms have occurred, for when the river is angry it
+is one of the most fearful places in the world for a ship to be. It is said
+that the whole of the Bahama Islands which lie scattered through the sea to
+the east of the Gulf Stream rest on a foundation of submarine banks formed
+by the deposits of the river. The same may be said of the islands which
+line the coasts of Georgia and the Carolinas on the west. Off one of these
+islands the captain distinctly made out the wreck of a large craft,
+floating free on the edge of this current, which he has since been told was
+the _City of Savannah_, wrecked in the great storms of 1893. Derelicts are
+common in these parts, no fewer than forty having been reported last year.
+
+Long ago the soundings taken by the officers of the American Coast Survey
+showed, according to Lieut. Maury, that the Gulf Stream flows along the
+coast of America at some distance from the land. The slight inclination of
+the low lands of Georgia and Carolina is continued under water till the
+sounding line attains a depth of about fifty fathoms. The bottom then sinks
+rapidly and forms a long valley parallel to the shore of America and the
+chalky walls of the Appalachian range. In this valley, hollowed to the east
+of the submarine basement of America, the Gulf Stream waters flow. Owing to
+the rotatory motion of the globe and also to the curve of the coasts, the
+Stream follows a constant direction to the north-east. Off New York and
+Cape Cod it deviates more and more to the east. It ceases to follow the
+coast-line, and rolls across the open Atlantic towards the shores of
+Western Europe. Thus, as Maury says, if an enormous cannon had force enough
+to send a bullet from the Strait of the Bahamas to the North Pole the
+projectile would follow almost exactly the curve of the Gulf Stream and,
+gradually deviating on its way, reach Europe from the west.
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHTSHIP, WHICH MARKS THE SITE OF AN OCEAN
+GRAVEYARD.]
+
+We have spoken of the driftwood boundaries of the Gulf Stream; but there is
+an even more pronounced barrier easily ascertained by a use of the
+thermometer. The warmest and most rapid part of the Gulf Stream is that in
+most immediate juxtaposition to a sheet of cold water flowing in an
+opposite direction off Carolina which bounds our river like a wall of ice.
+Occasionally the line of demarcation is so precise that it is visible to
+the naked eye, and the exact moment when a ship leaves the cold current and
+its prow cleaves the Gulf Stream may be observed. The latter waters are of
+a beautiful azure, that of the counter-current is greenish; one is
+saturated with salt, the other contains the mineral to a far slighter
+extent. But the chief distinction is that one is tepid, the other frigid as
+ice.
+
+On the 21st one of the men reported having sighted a light to the north,
+and had also clearly heard a distant bell tolling. This was probably the
+South Shoal Lightship, which marks the site of an ocean graveyard
+hereabouts. This lightship, with a crew of a dozen men, has been adrift
+nearly thirty times in the course of her history, and was once fourteen
+days in the Gulf Stream. She is a schooner or barge of two hundred and
+seventy-five tons, about one hundred feet long, chained to an anchor of
+three and a half tons. But it is said the life aboard is so unbearably
+monotonous to the crew that they cut the chain and so send the lightship
+adrift. The skipper was glad when the Gulf Stream carried him away from the
+neighbourhood, for he was reminded that over five hundred wrecks have taken
+place some leagues to the northward of his course.
+
+[Illustration: "THE TEMPERATURE OF THE STREAM WAS DISAGREEABLE TO HIM."]
+
+The _Miosen_ was now bound almost due east, as if headed for the Azores,
+for the great river curves at this point. Just south of Halifax, in
+longitude sixty-five degrees, they came across their first iceberg,
+drifting on the very edge of the stream. There is nothing so unhealthy for
+an iceberg as the Gulf Stream, and an iceberg seems to know it. When,
+however, it is fairly caught in its clutches it soon melts away to
+nothingness before it has been carried many leagues eastward, all
+depending, of course, upon its size. As with icebergs, so with whales, as
+we have already mentioned. The vessel encountered a whale later in
+longitude fifty, but it was obvious that the temperature of the Stream was
+disagreeable to him, for he soon headed again for the Arctic regions. Other
+whales make a dash through or remain by the side of the big river and so
+reach lower latitudes, but a brief sojourn is enough for them. The Gulf
+Stream is a river which can boast everything maritime but whales.
+
+The great river just touches the southern extremity of the Grand Banks of
+Newfoundland. This bank of Newfoundland, an enormous plateau surrounded on
+all sides by abysses five to six miles deep, is chiefly due to the contact
+of the Arctic current with the Gulf Stream. For here is the chief graveyard
+of icebergs. On entering the tepid waters of the river the frozen mountains
+gradually melt and let fall the fragments of rock and loads of earth they
+bear into the sea. The bank, which rises gradually from the bottom, is the
+work of the Greenland glaciers and the floes of the Polar Sea. It is the
+presence of the Gulf Stream in these latitudes which is the cause of the
+prevalent fogs not only here, but in the islands off Europe. From here
+onward a sailor can always tell whether or not he is in the Stream by
+plunging a thermometer overboard. Capt. Westrup found that it crosses the
+Atlantic with a mean speed of twenty-four knots a day. This had previously
+been ascertained, according to Maury, by direct measurement at different
+parts of the ocean, or by means of notes, which, having been thrown
+overboard in bottles, carefully closed, have floated for weeks or months at
+the will of the waves, and then been fished up in other latitudes or found
+on some seashore. In its long journey this mighty river transports hardly
+any other alluvium than the living frustules of animalculæ which fill the
+tepid waters of the current, and are constantly falling like snowflakes to
+the bottom of the ocean. However, during the whole distance across the
+_Miosen_ constantly met with the trunks and branches of trees, cane stalks,
+and woody flotsam, much of which finally reaches the coasts of Europe, even
+as far as Spitzbergen.
+
+"It was," says M. Reclus, "these remains which our ancestors of the Middle
+Ages believed to come from the fabulous island of St. Brandan or from
+Antilia, and which furnished matter for thought to daring navigators like
+the great Columbus. Seeds carried from the New World by the current have
+found a favourable soil on the shores of the Azores, and, although many
+thousands of miles from their native land, have germinated and borne fruit.
+Frequently the Gulf Stream brings to Europe the damaged products of human
+industry and the timber of wrecked ships. During the Seven Years' War the
+main-mast of an English man-of-war, the _Tilbury_, which had been burnt
+near San Domingo, was found on the northern coasts of Scotland. Also, a
+river-boat laden with mahogany was once driven to the Färöe Islands. The
+remnants of vessels wrecked in the latitude of Guinea have reached the
+British Isles on the Gulf Stream, and Esquimaux canoes have often been
+carried on its waves to the Orkneys."
+
+The Färöe Islands formed the temporary stopping-place of the _Miosen_.
+
+"Here," states the captain, "we disembarked at Thorshaven on May 13th. On
+the morning of the 12th we sighted Tindhölm, which is generally regarded as
+the barrier or point marking the end of the longest river in the world. We
+had begun our voyage at its source, and had traversed four thousand two
+hundred and twelve miles to its mouth, where the waters spread out into the
+great North Sea."
+
+[Illustration: APPROACH TO THE FÄRÖE ISLANDS--THE END OF THE GULF STREAM.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+Of the incalculable benefit to the climate of the British Isles and Western
+Europe which the Gulf Stream confers, one need not here pretend to speak.
+The river waters lose their warmth but slowly, and during winter they often
+have, off Cape Hatteras and the bank of Newfoundland, a temperature
+twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit above that of the ocean. Thus they become a
+source of heat to Western Europe. Owing to the warmth of its waters the
+lakes of the Färöe and Shetland Isles never freeze in winter. Great Britain
+is enveloped in fogs and the myrtle grows on Irish shores in the same
+latitude as icy Labrador. The western coasts of Ireland have five degrees
+higher temperature even than those of the eastern, and there the
+fifty-second degree of latitude corresponds to the thirty-eighth degree in
+America. All this is ascribed, and rightly, to the proximity of the world's
+greatest river.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET.[A]
+
+BY E. NESBIT
+
+
+X.--THE HOLE IN THE CARPET.
+
+    Hooray! hooray! hooray!
+    Mother comes home to-day;
+    Mother comes home to-day,
+    Hooray! hooray! hooray!
+
+Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast, and the Phoenix shed
+crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.
+
+"How beautiful," it said, "is filial devotion!"
+
+"She won't be home till past bed-time, though," said Robert. "We might have
+one more carpet-day."
+
+He was glad that mother was coming home--quite glad, very glad; but at the
+same time that gladness was rudely contradicted by a quite strong feeling
+of sorrow, because now they could not go out all day on the carpet.
+
+"I do wish we could go and get something nice for mother, only she'd want
+to know where we got it," said Anthea. "And she'd never, never believe the
+truth. People never do, somehow, if it's at all interesting."
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Robert. "Suppose we wished the carpet to take us
+somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it--then we could buy
+her something."
+
+"Suppose it took us somewhere foreign, and the purse was covered with
+strange Eastern devices, embroidered in rich silks, and full of money that
+wasn't money at all here, only foreign curiosities, then we couldn't spend
+it, and people would bother about where we got it, and we shouldn't know
+how on earth to get out of it all." Cyril moved the table off the carpet as
+he spoke, and its leg caught in one of Anthea's darns and ripped away most
+of it, as well as a large slit in the carpet.
+
+"Well, now you _have_ done it," said Robert.
+
+But Anthea was a really first-class sister. She did not say a word till she
+had got out the Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool, and the
+darning-needle and the thimble and the scissors, and by that time she had
+been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly
+disagreeable, and was able to say quite kindly:--
+
+"Never mind, Squirrel, I'll soon mend it."
+
+Cyril thumped her on the back. He understood exactly how she had felt, and
+he was not an ungrateful brother.
+
+"Respecting the purse containing coins," the Phoenix said, scratching its
+invisible ear thoughtfully with its shining claw, "it might be as well,
+perhaps, to state clearly the amount which you wish to find, as well as the
+country where you wish to find it, and the nature of the coins which you
+prefer. It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse
+containing but three oboloi."
+
+"How much is an oboloi?"
+
+"An obol is about twopence halfpenny," the Phoenix replied.
+
+"Yes," said Jane, "and if you find a purse I suppose it is only because
+someone has lost it, and you ought to take it to the policeman."
+
+"The situation," remarked the Phoenix, "does indeed bristle with
+difficulties."
+
+"What about a buried treasure," said Cyril, "and everyone was dead that it
+belonged to?"
+
+"Mother wouldn't believe _that_," said more than one voice.
+
+"Suppose," said Robert--"suppose we asked to be taken where we could find a
+purse and give it back to the person it belonged to, and they would give us
+something for finding it?"
+
+"We aren't allowed to take money from strangers. You know we aren't, Bobs,"
+said Anthea, making a knot at the end of a needleful of Scotch
+heather-mixture fingering wool (which is very wrong, and you must never do
+it when you are darning).
+
+"No, _that_ wouldn't do," said Cyril. "Let's chuck it and go to the North
+Pole, or somewhere really interesting."
+
+"No," said the girls together, "there must be _some_ way."
+
+"Wait a sec," Anthea added. "I've got an idea coming. Don't speak."
+
+There was a silence as she paused with the darning-needle in the air.
+Suddenly she spoke:--
+
+"I see. Let's tell the carpet to take us somewhere where we can get the
+money for mother's present, and--and--and get it some way that she'll
+believe in and not think wrong."
+
+"Well, I must say you are learning the way to get the most out of the
+carpet," said Cyril. He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual, because
+he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the
+carpet.
+
+"Yes," said the Phoenix, "you certainly are. And you have to remember
+that if you take a thing out it doesn't stay in."
+
+No one paid any attention to this remark at the time, but afterwards
+everyone thought of it.
+
+"Do hurry up, Panther," said Robert; and that was why Anthea did hurry up
+and why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby
+like a fishing-net, not tight and close like woven cloth, which is what a
+good, well-behaved darn should be like.
+
+Then everyone put on its outdoor things, the Phoenix fluttered on to the
+mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass, and then all was
+ready. Everyone got on to the carpet.
+
+"Please go slowly, dear carpet," Anthea began; "we like to see where we're
+going." And then she added the difficult wish that had been decided on.
+
+Next moment the carpet, stiff and raft-like, was sailing over the roofs of
+Kentish Town.
+
+"I wish----No, I don't mean that. I mean it's a _pity_ we aren't higher
+up," said Anthea, as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney-pot.
+
+"That's right. Be careful," said the Phoenix, in warning tones. "If you
+wish when you're on a Wishing Carpet, you _do_ wish, and there's an end of
+it."
+
+So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm
+magnificence over St. Pancras and King's Cross stations and over the
+crowded streets of Clerkenwell.
+
+"We're going out Greenwich way," said Cyril, as they crossed the streak of
+rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. "We might go and have a look at
+the Palace."
+
+On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the chimney-pots
+than the children found at all comfortable. And then, just over New Cross,
+a terrible thing happened.
+
+Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was on the
+carpet, and part of them--the heaviest part--was on the great central darn.
+
+"It's all very misty," said Jane; "it looks partly like out of doors and
+partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was going to have
+measles; everything looked awfully rum then, I remember."
+
+"I feel just exactly the same," Robert said.
+
+"It's the hole," said the Phoenix; "it's not measles, whatever that
+possession may be."
+
+And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly and at once made a bound to try
+and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the darn _gave way_ and
+their boots went up, and the heavy heads and bodies of them went down
+_through the hole_, and they landed in a position something between sitting
+and sprawling on the flat leads on the top of a high, grey, gloomy,
+respectable house whose address was 705, Amersham Road, New Cross.
+
+The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of
+their weight, and rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and peeped
+over the edge of the rising carpet.
+
+[Illustration: "'ARE YOU HURT?' CRIED CYRIL."]
+
+"Are you hurt?" cried Cyril, and Robert shouted "No," and next moment the
+carpet had sped away, and Jane and Robert were hidden from the sight of the
+others by a stack of smoky chimneys.
+
+"Oh, how awful!" said Anthea.
+
+"It might have been worse," said the Phoenix. "What would have been the
+sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were
+crossing the river?"
+
+"Yes, there's that," said Cyril, recovering himself. "They'll be all right.
+They'll howl till someone gets them down, or drop tiles into the front
+garden to attract the attention of passers-by. Bobs has got my one and
+five-pence--lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, Panther, or he
+wouldn't have had it. They can tram it home."
+
+But Anthea would not be comforted.
+
+"It's all my fault," she said. "I _knew_ the proper way to darn, and I
+didn't do it. It's all my fault. Let's go home and patch the carpet with
+your Etons--something really strong--and send it to fetch them."
+
+"All right," said Cyril; "but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my Etons.
+We must just chuck mother's present, that's all. I wish----"
+
+"Stop!" cried the Phoenix; "the carpet is dropping to earth."
+
+And indeed it was.
+
+It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford
+Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally
+walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind
+a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the
+Deptford Road noticed it. The Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of
+Cyril's coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked:--
+
+"Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?"
+
+They were face to face with their pet uncle--their Uncle Reginald.
+
+[Illustration: "IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A
+GATE-POST."]
+
+"We _did_ think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson,"
+said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could
+believe.
+
+"And where are the others?" asked Uncle Reginald.
+
+"I don't exactly know," Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.
+
+"Well," said Uncle Reginald, "I must fly. I've a case in the County Court.
+That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can't take the chances
+of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted
+Hall and give you lunch at the Ship afterwards! But, alas! it may not be."
+
+The uncle felt in his pocket.
+
+"_I_ mustn't enjoy myself," he said, "but that's no reason why you
+shouldn't. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you
+_some_ desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu."
+
+And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and
+high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange
+eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's
+hand.
+
+"Well!" said Anthea.
+
+"Well!" said Cyril.
+
+"Well!" said the Phoenix.
+
+"Good old carpet," said Cyril, joyously.
+
+"It _was_ clever of it--so adequate and yet so simple," said the Phoenix,
+with calm approval.
+
+"Oh, come on home and let's mend the carpet. I am a beast. I'd forgotten
+the others, just for a minute," said the conscience-stricken Anthea.
+
+They unrolled the carpet quickly and slily--they did not want to attract
+public attention--and the moment their feet were on the carpet Anthea
+wished to be at home, and instantly they were.
+
+The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them to
+go to such extremes as Cyril's Etons or Anthea's Sunday jacket for the
+patching of the carpet.
+
+Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn together,
+and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned
+American oil-cloth which careful housewives use to cover dressers and
+kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could think of.
+
+Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth. The
+nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did not feel
+so sure as he had done about their being able to "tram it" home. So he
+tried to help Anthea, which was very good for him, but not much use to her.
+
+The Phoenix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and
+more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on one
+gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said:--
+
+[Illustration: "'GOOD OLD CARPET,' SAID CYRIL, JOYOUSLY."]
+
+"I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert--who set my egg to
+hatch--in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so
+pleasantly! I think, if you'll excuse me----"
+
+"Yes--_do_," cried Anthea. "I wish we'd thought of asking you before."
+
+Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sun-bright wings and
+vanished.
+
+"So _that's_ all right," said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly
+pricking his hand in a new place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this
+time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but--what happened to Jane and
+Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the house
+which was called number 705, Amersham Road.
+
+But I had to tell you the other first. That is one of the most annoying
+things about stories. You cannot tell all the different parts of them at
+the same time.
+
+Robert's first remark when he found himself seated on the damp, cold, sooty
+leads was:--
+
+"Here's a go!"
+
+Jane's first act was tears.
+
+"Dry up, Pussy; don't be a little duffer," said her brother, kindly. "It
+will be all right."
+
+And then he looked about, just as Cyril had known he would, for something
+to throw down, so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below in
+the street. He could not find anything. Curiously enough there were no
+stones on the leads, not even a loose tile. The roof was of slate, and
+every single slate knew its place and kept it. But, as so often happens, in
+looking for one thing he found another. There was a trap-door leading down
+into the house.
+
+And that trap-door was not fastened.
+
+"Stop snivelling and come here, Jane," he cried, encouragingly. "Lend a
+hand to heave this up. If we can get into the house we might sneak down
+without meeting anyone, with luck. Come on."
+
+They heaved up the door till it stood straight up, and, as they bent to
+look into the hole below, the door fell back with a hollow clang on the
+leads behind, and with its noise was mingled a blood-curdling scream from
+underneath.
+
+"Discovered!" hissed Robert. "Oh, my cats alive!"
+
+They were indeed discovered.
+
+They found themselves looking down into an attic, which was also a
+lumber-room. It had boxes and broken chairs, old fenders and
+picture-frames, and rag-bags hanging from nails.
+
+In the middle of the floor was a box, open, half full of clothes. Other
+clothes lay on the floor in neat piles. In the middle of the piles of
+clothes sat a lady, very flat indeed, with her feet sticking out straight
+in front of her. And it was she who had screamed, and who, in fact, was
+still screaming.
+
+"Don't!" cried Jane, "please don't! We won't hurt you."
+
+"Where are the rest of your gang?" asked the lady, stopping short in the
+middle of a scream.
+
+"The others have gone on, on the Wishing Carpet," said Jane, truthfully.
+
+"The Wishing Carpet?" said the lady.
+
+"Yes," said Jane, before Robert could say, "You shut up!" "You must have
+read about it. The Phoenix is with them."
+
+Then the lady got up, and picking her way carefully between the piles of
+clothes she got to the door and through it. She shut it behind her, and the
+two children could hear her calling "Septimus! Septimus!" in a loud yet
+frightened way.
+
+"Now," said Robert, quickly; "I'll drop first."
+
+He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap-door.
+
+"Now you. Hang by your hands. I'll catch you. Oh, there's no time for jaw.
+Drop, I say."
+
+Jane dropped.
+
+[Illustration: "JANE DROPPED."]
+
+Robert tried to catch her, and even before they had finished the breathless
+roll among the piles of clothes, which was what his catching ended in, he
+whispered:--
+
+"We'll hide--behind those fenders and things; they'll think we've gone
+along the roofs. Then, when all is calm, we'll creep down the stairs and
+take our chance."
+
+They hastily hid. A corner of an iron bedstead struck into Robert's side,
+and Jane had only standing room for one foot--but they bore it--and when
+the lady came back, not with Septimus, but with another lady, they held
+their breath and their hearts beat thickly.
+
+"Gone!" said the first lady; "poor little things--quite mad, my dear--and
+at large! We must lock this room and send for the police."
+
+"Let me look out," said the second lady, who was, if possible, older and
+thinner and primmer than the first. So the two ladies dragged a box under
+the trap-door and put another box on the top of it, and then they both
+climbed up very carefully and put their two trim, tidy heads out of the
+trap-door to look for the "mad children."
+
+"Now," whispered Robert, getting the bedstead-leg out of his side.
+
+They managed to creep out from their hiding-place and out through the door
+before the two ladies had done looking out of the trap-door on to the empty
+leads.
+
+Robert and Jane tiptoed down the stairs--one flight, two flights. Then they
+looked over the banisters. Horror! a servant was coming up with a loaded
+scuttle.
+
+The children with one consent crept swiftly through the first open door.
+
+The room was a study, calm and gentle, manly, with rows of books, a
+writing-table, and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the
+fender. The children hid behind the window-curtains. As they passed the
+table they saw on it a missionary-box with its bottom label torn off, open
+and empty.
+
+"Oh, how awful!" whispered Jane. "We shall never get away alive."
+
+"Hush!" said Robert, not a moment too soon, for there were steps on the
+stairs, and next instant the two ladies came into the room. They did not
+see the children, but they saw the empty missionary-box.
+
+"I knew it," said one. "Selina, it _was_ a gang. I was certain of it from
+the first. The children were not mad. They were sent to distract our
+attention while their confederates robbed the house."
+
+"I am afraid you are right," said Selina; "and _where are they now_?"
+
+"Downstairs, no doubt, collecting the silver milk-jug and sugar-basin and
+the punch-ladle that was Uncle Joe's, and Aunt Jerusha's teaspoons. I shall
+go down."
+
+"Oh, don't be so rash and heroic," said Selina. "Amelia, we must call the
+police from the window. Lock the door. I _will_--I will----"
+
+The words ended in a yell as Selina, rushing to the window, came face to
+face with the hidden children.
+
+"Oh, don't!" said Jane; "how can you be so unkind? We _aren't_ burglars,
+and we haven't any gang, and we didn't open your missionary-box. We opened
+our own once, but we didn't have to use the money, so our consciences made
+us put it back and----_Don't!_ Oh, I wish you wouldn't----"
+
+Miss Selina had seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert. The children
+found themselves held fast by strong, slim hands, pink at the wrists and
+white at the knuckles.
+
+"We've got _you_, at any rate," said Miss Amelia. "Selina, your captive is
+smaller than mine. You open the window at once and call 'Murder!' as loud
+as you can."
+
+Selina obeyed; but when she had opened the window, instead of calling
+"Murder!" she called "Septimus!" because at that very moment she saw her
+nephew coming in at the gate.
+
+In another minute he had let himself in with his latch-key and had mounted
+the stairs. As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek
+of joy so loud and so sudden that the ladies leaped with surprise and
+nearly let them go.
+
+"It's our own clergyman," cried Jane.
+
+"Don't you remember us?" asked Robert. "You married our burglar for
+us--don't you remember?"
+
+"I _knew_ it was a gang," said Amelia. "Septimus, these abandoned children
+are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house. They
+have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents."
+
+[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU REMEMBER US?' ASKED ROBERT. 'YOU MARRIED OUR
+BURGLAR FOR US.'"]
+
+The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.
+
+"I feel a little faint," he said, "running upstairs so quickly."
+
+"We never touched the beastly box," said Robert.
+
+"Then your confederates did," said Miss Selina.
+
+"No, no," said the curate, hastily. "_I_ opened the box myself. This
+morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers' Independent
+Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose this is _not_ a
+dream, is it?"
+
+"Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it."
+
+The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of course,
+was blamelessly free of burglars.
+
+When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.
+
+"Aren't you going to let us go?" asked Robert, with furious indignation,
+for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood
+of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair. "We've never done
+anything to you. It's all the carpet. It dropped us on the leads. _We_
+couldn't help it. You know how it carried you over to the island, and you
+had to marry the burglar to the cook."
+
+"Oh, my head!" said the curate.
+
+"Never mind your head just now," said Robert; "try to be honest and
+honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!"
+
+"This is a judgment on me for something, I suppose," said the Reverend
+Septimus, wearily, "but I really cannot at the moment remember what."
+
+"Send for the police," said Miss Selina.
+
+"Send for a doctor," said the curate.
+
+"Do you think they _are_ mad then?" said Miss Amelia.
+
+"I think I am," said the curate.
+
+Jane had been crying ever since her capture. Now she said:--
+
+"You aren't now, but perhaps you will be, if----And it would serve you
+jolly well right, too."
+
+"Aunt Selina," said the curate, "and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only
+an insane dream. You will realize it soon. It has happened to me before.
+But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream. Do not hold the children;
+they have done no harm. As I said before, it was I who opened the box."
+
+The strong, bony hands unwillingly loosed their grasp. Robert shook himself
+and stood in sulky resentment. But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him
+so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.
+
+"You're a dear," she said. "It is like a dream just at first, but you get
+used to it. Now _do_ let us go. There's a good, kind, honourable
+clergyman."
+
+[Illustration: "JANE RAN TO THE CURATE AND EMBRACED HIM."]
+
+"I don't know," said the Reverend Septimus; "it's a difficult problem. It
+is such a very unusual dream. Perhaps it's only a sort of other life--quite
+real enough for you to be mad in. And if you're mad there might be a
+dream-asylum where you'd be kindly treated, and in time restored, cured, to
+your sorrowing relatives. It is very hard to see your duty plainly, even in
+ordinary life, and these dream-circumstances are so complicated----"
+
+"If it's a dream," said Robert, "you will wake up directly, and then you'd
+be sorry if you'd sent us into a dream-asylum, because you might never get
+into the same dream again and let us out, and so we might stay there for
+ever, and then what about our sorrowing relatives who aren't in the dreams
+at all?"
+
+But all the curate could now say was, "Oh, my head!"
+
+And Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness. A
+really conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage.
+
+And then, just as the hopelessness and the helplessness were getting to be
+almost more than they could bear, the two children suddenly felt that
+extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you are just
+going to vanish. And the next moment they had vanished, and the Reverend
+Septimus was left alone with his aunts.
+
+"I knew it was a dream," he cried, wildly. "I've had something like it
+before. Did you dream it too, Aunt Selina, and you, Aunt Amelia? I dreamed
+that you did, you know."
+
+Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia. Then she said, boldly:--
+
+"What do you mean? _We_ haven't been dreaming anything. You must have
+dropped off in your chair."
+
+The curate heaved a sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, if it's only _I_," he said; "if we'd all dreamed it I could never have
+believed it, never!"
+
+Afterwards Aunt Selina said to the other aunt:--
+
+"Yes, I know it was an untruth, and I shall doubtless be punished for it in
+due course. But I could see the poor, dear fellow's brain giving way before
+my very eyes. He couldn't have stood the strain of _three_ dreams. It _was_
+odd, wasn't it? All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same moment.
+We must never tell dear Seppy. But I shall send an account of it to the
+Psychical Society, with stars instead of names, you know."
+
+And she did. And you can read all about it in one of the society's fat
+Blue-books.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, you understand what had happened?
+
+The intelligent Phoenix had simply gone straight off to the psammead, or
+sand-fairy, who gives wishes and had wished Robert and Jane at home. And,
+of course, they were at home at once. Cyril and Anthea had not half
+finished mending the carpet.
+
+When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little they all went
+out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presents for
+mother. They bought her a pink silk handkerchief, a pair of blue and white
+vases, a bottle of scent, a packet of Christmas candles, and a cake of soap
+shaped and coloured like a tomato, and one that was so like an orange that
+almost anyone you had given it to would have tried to peel it--if they
+liked oranges, of course. Also they bought a cake with icing on, and the
+rest of the money they spent in flowers to put in the vases.
+
+When they had arranged all the things on a table, with the candles stuck up
+on a plate ready to light the moment mother's cab was heard, they washed
+themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes.
+
+Then Robert said, "Good old psammead," and the others said so too.
+
+"But, really, it's just as much good old Phoenix," said Robert. "Suppose
+it hadn't thought of getting the wish!"
+
+"Ah!" said the Phoenix, "it is perhaps fortunate for you that I am such a
+competent bird."
+
+"There's mother's cab," cried Anthea, and the Phoenix bird and they
+lighted the candles, and next moment mother's cab was home again.
+
+She liked her presents very much, and found their story of Uncle Reginald
+and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe.
+
+"Good old carpet," were Cyril's last sleepy words.
+
+"What there is of it," said the Phoenix, from the cornice-pole.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+
+
+
+_The Making of a Lily._
+
+BY F. MARTIN DUNCAN.
+
+
+[Illustration: 1.--A "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, SHOWING THE
+UNDERGROUND STEM WITH NEXT YEAR'S BUDS.]
+
+[Illustration: 2.--A RETARDED "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY BEFORE
+BEING PLANTED IN THE FORCING-HOUSE.]
+
+To the question, "What are your favourite flowers?" a large majority of
+people will be found to promptly answer, "Lilies." And every year these
+beautiful flowers seem to become more and more popular. They have a charm
+peculiarly their own, unmatched by any other flower; while a halo of
+romance has encompassed them from the earliest dawn of civilization,
+inspiring poets, painters, and all lovers of the beautiful in Nature.
+
+North, south, east, and west collectors have travelled, diligently seeking
+for new species, until a wonderful collection of all sorts, shapes, and
+sizes of lilies has been brought together, to enrich our gardens and
+greenhouses with their graceful forms and delicate tints. But in spite of
+all this continual importation of gorgeous and distinguished foreigners,
+flaunting it bravely in scarlet and gold, our own native lily of the valley
+still ranks first favourite in the hearts of the people. Nor is this
+constancy surprising, for what can be more charming than the exquisite cool
+green of its foliage or the sweet, fresh fragrance of the clusters of its
+pure white flowers?
+
+[Illustration: 3.--AFTER A WEEK IN THE FORCING-HOUSE THE BUD BEGINS TO
+SWELL.]
+
+Partly on account of its graceful shape and sweet scent, the pure white of
+its blossoms and delicate green of its foliage, the lily of the valley has
+become one of the most important flowers for bouquets and floral
+decorations, often being used on the most opposite occasions--for the
+bridal bouquet and the funeral wreath--yet never appearing out of place or
+incongruous; while at Yule-tide it is nowadays in as great demand as the
+holly for decorating our homes and churches. Consequently there is now a
+steadily-growing demand for lilies of the valley throughout the year.
+
+Now, in its natural state, growing at its own sweet will in our woods, the
+lily of the valley flowers only in the spring of the year, just as the
+earliest spring flowers are beginning to fade; while later in the year its
+leafless flower-stem bears numerous pretty, globular-shaped red berries,
+the seeds from which future generations of lilies will spring. Besides its
+seeds, the lily of the valley has another method of perpetuating the
+species by means of its subterranean creeping root-stock, on which a new
+bud, or series of buds, appears annually, each bud ultimately developing
+the orthodox two leaves, from the centre of which rises the flower-stem. As
+the flowers and foliage of the present year begin to fade, those buds on
+the underground stem which represent next year's supply of flowers are seen
+to increase somewhat in size. During the cold winter months they rest and
+remain practically inactive, awaiting the first warm breath of spring,
+which is the signal for them to start into active growth.
+
+[Illustration: 4.--IN TEN DAYS SOME APPRECIABLE GROWTH IS MADE.]
+
+[Illustration: 5.--FOURTEEN DAYS' GROWTH. THE TIGHTLY-FOLDED FOLIAGE LEAVES
+AND FLOWER STEM HAVE DEVELOPED.]
+
+The peculiar underground stem of the lily of the valley is known amongst
+gardeners as the "crown." For a long time the autumn and winter demand for
+flowers of the lily of the valley was met by digging up the crowns out of
+the gardens or woods, placing them in pots filled with rich soil, and
+forcing their growth in the hothouse. Now, curious to say, although the
+lily crowns responded to this treatment and sent up their flower-stems,
+they absolutely declined to develop any foliage, probably because they had
+been deprived of their winter rest and the opportunity to store up the
+requisite strength for building up both flowers and foliage; moreover, the
+blossoms of these forced crowns were often very small in size.
+
+[Illustration: 6.--EIGHTEEN DAYS' GROWTH. THE CREAMY-WHITE LEAVES BEGIN TO
+SWELL.]
+
+Many eminent florists, both in England and on the Continent, dissatisfied
+with such results, set to work to solve the difficulty of growing both
+foliage and flowers of the lily of the valley all the year round. The task
+was a troublesome one, though not quite so hopeless as it would appear to
+the uninitiated, for these flower specialists knew that crowns which were
+taken out of the ground at the end of the winter and forced would
+frequently develop both foliage and flowers.
+
+[Illustration: 7.--TWENTY-ONE DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE GAINING ITS GREEN
+TINT AND THE FLOWER-BUDS SHOWING.]
+
+At last, after numerous experiments had been tried, a method was evolved
+whereby it became possible to supply the markets of the world with both
+large and handsome flowers and foliage of the lily of the valley all the
+year round, from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve. The crowns are now
+collected before the new buds have made much growth, and subjected to a
+process of refrigeration which takes the place of the winter sleep, and by
+which means they can be stored for a long time without injury. Four or five
+weeks before the flowers and foliage are required the crowns are planted in
+the hothouse, and kept at a temperature of about 75 deg. Fahr. during the
+whole period of their growth.
+
+[Illustration: 8.--TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE BEGINNING TO
+UNFURL.]
+
+[Illustration: 9.--THIRTY-ONE DAYS' GROWTH. THE FLOWER-STEM RAPIDLY
+GROWING.]
+
+When taken from the refrigerator the lily crown, technically known on the
+market as a "retarded crown," has a somewhat dry, brownish appearance. A
+week spent in the rich soil and hot, humid atmosphere of the forcing-house
+causes the bud to swell and begin to grow. In ten days it is seen to have
+really made some appreciable growth. At the end of fourteen days the
+creamy-white, tightly-folded foliage leaves and the tip of the flower-stem
+are seen to have developed, the leaves broadening out somewhat about the
+eighteenth day. In twenty-one days the still folded leaves have gained a
+delicate, pale greenish hue, and the flower-buds have begun to make
+themselves plainly visible upon the flower-stem. Twenty-eight days finds
+the leaves a slightly deeper green in tint and beginning to unfurl; while
+the flower-stem is now more slowly developing, showing a close
+approximation to the order of growth under natural conditions. In thirty
+days the flower-stem begins to put on a spurt and catch up with the leaves
+in growth. Thirty-six days from the planting of the retarded crown the
+fully-formed flower-buds begin to open, and a day or two later the plant is
+in full bloom and the foliage and flowers are ready for the market.
+
+[Illustration: 10.--THIRTY-SIX DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE FULLY DEVELOPED
+AND THE FLOWER-BUDS BEGINNING TO OPEN.]
+
+[Illustration: 11.--THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS GROWTH. THE FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE READY
+FOR MARKET.]
+
+
+
+
+_Curiosities._
+
+Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+[_We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section, and to pay for
+such as are accepted._]
+
+
+AN EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE.
+
+"Whilst lifting a dish of apples from the table one of the apples fell from
+the dish to the wineglass and remained in the position shown in the
+photograph. It did not upset the glass, although it was empty. The
+edge of the glass had cut into the apple, so retaining it in
+position."--Lieut.-Col. G. T. Trueman, Brooklands, Mansfield Road, Reading.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE.
+
+"The bridge shown in the photograph carries with it a curious legend, which
+runs somewhat as follows. Once upon a time there was no bridge at all, and
+a ford was the only means at the disposal of the local inhabitants. One
+day, owing to a flood, an old woman was unable to cross the river to sell
+her wares at the village market. She began to cry. The Devil hearing her
+sobs came to her and said he would build a bridge across the river, on
+condition that he had the very first living being that crossed the bridge
+after market time, his Satanic Majesty knowing very well that the old woman
+was always the first on the journey back. The woman promised, and the Devil
+soon built the bridge. The woman on returning from market was about to step
+upon the bridge when she suddenly remembered what the Devil had said. Not
+knowing what to do, she went to the priest and confessed everything. The
+worthy priest, giving her a cake, advised her to throw it to the other side
+of the bridge and let her dog run after it. This she did, and the Devil was
+so angry at being cheated of his prey that he dropped a corner of his apron
+and the stones fell to the bottom of the river, where they may be seen to
+this day."--Mr. J. B. Mather, 21, Liverpool Road, Birkdale, near Southport.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A CYCLONIC FREAK.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"On Saturday afternoon, October 3rd, 1903, a cyclone passed over the State
+of Wisconsin from the south-west corner to the north-east corner, doing
+considerable damage to life and property. At the time I was employed as a
+local man on the _Waupaca Post_, and was detailed to write up the results
+of the storm in that neighbourhood. At a point about seven miles north of
+Waupaca, near the village of Scandinavia, I found that the wind had
+demolished a farm-house and that an ordinary cabinet photo. had been blown
+from a table in the front room and driven about one-half its area into a
+solid oak tree by the side of the road. The tree was badly broken above,
+but perfectly solid at the point where the picture was driven in. I took
+hold of the card and pulled as hard as I dared, but found it to be quite
+immovable."--Mr. Thos. L. Jacobs, Sumner, Washington.
+
+
+WHEN IS A MONKEY NOT A MONKEY?
+
+"When it is a Japanese fern tree like that shown in my photograph. The
+Japanese people are fond of shaping fern roots so as to resemble animals,
+and when the fern grows a little judicious clipping of the fronds adds much
+to the realistic and often grotesque effect."--Miss Emmons, Mount Vernon,
+Leamington.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+SCRAP-IRON _v._ EVIL SPIRITS.
+
+"In the southern part of the United States one of the superstitions of the
+negroes is that fruit trees should be protected from evil spirits by
+hanging upon them iron in some form. According to their belief, if the
+trees do not have some such safeguard the spirits will enter the trunk and
+branches and prevent the trees from bearing. The accompanying photograph
+shows a peach tree in Maryland which was protected from the evil spirits in
+this way. Suspended from the trunk and branches are chains, stove lids,
+hoops, grates, and iron nails collected by the owner of the tree from piles
+of old metal for this purpose. It is a peculiar fact, however, that the
+tree has borne large crops of peaches each year it has thus been
+protected."--Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION."
+
+"I send you a photograph showing a unique umbrella which sheltered two
+young ladies under it during a violent thunderstorm. While spending my
+holiday in the Blue Mountains of Sullivan County, New York, I decided to
+take a trip to Minisink Battlefield, in the town of Highland, where, on
+July 22nd, 1779, a tribe of Indians, led by the noted half-breed, Joseph
+Brant, massacred a band of white soldiers, who had made an heroic fight and
+had gained the upper hand, when they discovered that their ammunition had
+given out. A rude monument of stone marks the spot, and while I was taking
+a photograph of it the storm broke. Our party found temporary shelter in an
+abandoned hut in a quarry at the mountain top, but being miles from our
+stopping-place, and having failed to provide ourselves with even a single
+umbrella, one of the party, Mr. Ralph Austin, saw possibilities in the
+umbrella line when I folded up my rubber-coated focusing cloth. A birch
+sapling furnished the rod, and branches of maple trees were made to serve
+as ribs. These were held in place by strips torn from a handkerchief. Then
+the focusing cloth was stretched across the frame and tied down at the
+corners with more strips from the handkerchief. The homeward journey was
+then begun, and for a distance of nearly four miles the young ladies walked
+under the umbrella, which thoroughly protected them from the rain. They
+were so pleased with this ingenious umbrella that they insisted upon being
+photographed under it."--Mr. Adolph A. Langer, 116, Danforth Avenue, Jersey
+City, N.J.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+BEAVERS' WORK.
+
+"This photograph shows the remarkable work of what are known as
+dam-building beavers. The little animals sometimes construct barriers of
+brushwood and clay in creeks to form their winter habitations. Occasionally
+they use pieces of timber of quite large size. The logs which are shown in
+this picture were actually cut by their sharp teeth, and were found in the
+swamp occupied by a beaver colony near Stroudsburg, Pa. The work was done
+so nicely that the wood appears as if hewn with an axe. Pieces of this size
+were used to strengthen the dam and were gnawed from limbs of trees, some
+of which were over six inches in diameter. As will be noted, one bears a
+remarkable resemblance to a horse's hoof."--Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+CATALEPTIC RIGIDITY.
+
+"This is a rather uncommon photograph of a man whilst under hypnotic
+influence, lying on an upturned stool, bearing the weight of three people
+on his body. His feet are resting on one leg and his neck on the other
+without any support between. The photograph was taken without the knowledge
+of the subject."--Mr. E. E. Vinnicombe, Gloucester Row, Weymouth.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED SURGERY.
+
+"The accompanying photograph of a mural tablet in St. Sampson's Church,
+Guernsey, the inscription on which is in French, brings the surgical skill
+of to-day into striking contrast with that of a hundred years ago. For the
+benefit of those who do not care to try their eyesight in reading the small
+type, or who do not understand French, I have translated the latter and
+more interesting part of the inscription into English, as follows: 'This
+monument is erected to their memory, and also to that of their eldest son,
+Thomas Falla, Lieutenant of the 12th Regiment of Infantry, who died at the
+siege of Seringapatam, April 6th, 1799, aged eighteen years, six months,
+twenty-five days, as the result of a wound of a solid cannon ball weighing
+twenty-six pounds, which had lodged between the two bones of one of his
+thighs. The said wound having become considerably inflamed, the surgeon of
+the regiment, after he had examined the injury, was unaware that the ball
+was enclosed in it, and it was only after his death, which took place six
+hours after the event, that it was extracted, to the surprise of the whole
+Army.' The solid cannon ball referred to, of twenty-six pounds in weight,
+must have been five and three-quarter inches in diameter; it is astounding
+to contemplate that the regimental surgeon was unable to detect the
+presence of this huge mass of iron in the unfortunate officer's
+thigh."--Mr. Arthur D. Moullin, "Cintra," Swanage, Dorset.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A SHAM STRONG MAN.
+
+"The picture of the 'Strong Man' was taken as follows: A section of bark
+was removed from a partly rotten log, a thin slice being then sawn off the
+log and placed in one end of the bark. This hollow sham was shouldered by
+the 'Strong Man' whilst a friend snapped the shutter."--Mr. Paul Drake,
+Green Lake Post Office, Seattle, Washington.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+THE POWER OF A GROWING TREE.
+
+"At the time of the American occupation in Cuba a number of anchors were
+thrown aside by the Americans in the Havana Navy Yard. Since then the tree
+shown in the photograph has grown up. It is known in Cuba as the
+'Frambollan,' or Royal Ponciana. The tree has caught the anchor and lifted
+it bodily from the ground, one end of the anchor being twenty-one inches
+from the ground and the other twenty-five inches, although, if measurements
+were not taken, it would appear as if both sides were perfectly even. The
+anchor weighs about four thousand five hundred pounds. The photograph was
+taken by Mr. Marcos Moré, Peña Pobre 27, Havana, Cuba."--Mr. J. A. del
+Solar, Room 818, 108, Fulton Street, New York.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+WOMEN COALING A STEAMER IN JAPAN.
+
+"This photograph, which was taken in the harbour at Yokohama, shows one
+side of a liner with many ladders running up from numerous coal barges
+which surround the ship. The curious, and at the same time interesting,
+point of the photograph lies in the fact that the coaling is carried out by
+gangs of girls. They use little round baskets, which they pass from one
+hand to another with amazing rapidity. Many of the figures which appear in
+the photograph to be boys are not really so, for the dress of the girls is
+in many ways of the masculine type--the large figure in the foreground is a
+typical specimen of this. By the following figures one can realize the
+speed with which the coal is put on board. One of the 'Empress' line of
+steamers has had 1,360 tons loaded in this way in four hours, which is at
+the rate of 5.7 tons per minute."--Mr. S. Edward Ould, 47, Gloucester
+Square, Hyde Park, W.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"A RUBBING STONE FOR ASSES."
+
+"About the middle of the seventeenth century there stood an inn at the
+corner of the old Chester road in Lower Bebington (near Birkenhead). The
+loafers of the neighbourhood used to hang about the corner and loll against
+the wall of this inn, which very much annoyed the innkeeper. Being an
+ingenious man, he hit upon the following way of ridding himself of the
+annoyance. He put a tablet in the wall (right-hand side of photo.), of
+which none of them could understand the meaning for some time. At last one
+of the sharpest found that by running the letters together a sentence was
+formed, reading, 'A Rubbing Stone for Asses.' Of course, this effectually
+cleared the loafers. The puzzle on the middle stone is solved thus:--
+
+          987654321 (=45)
+    minus 123456789 (=45)
+    ---------------------
+        = 864197532 (=45)
+
+The worthy innkeeper's name (see third stone) was Mark Noble, and his sign
+was 'The Two Crowns,' the thirty shillings being made up by--
+
+    Mark       = 13s. 4d.
+    Noble      =  6s. 8d.
+    Two Crowns = 10s. 0d.
+                ---------
+                 30s. 0d.
+                ---------
+
+The lettering of the stones has been recut lately to preserve it."--Mr. T.
+H. Lee, 122, St. Domingo Vale, Liverpool.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+ENGLISH AS SHE IS MURDERED.
+
+"The accompanying is a faithful copy of an address of welcome presented to
+the passengers of the s.y. _Argonaut_ on the occasion of their visit to
+Messene. Though a very amusing curiosity as regards the writer's
+manipulation of the English language, it cannot fail to convey to the
+'grand swans of strong Albion' the feeling of respect and admiration in
+which they are held by the people of Greece."--Mr. Arthur Williamson, 17,
+Union Square, S.E.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A SNAIL FARM.
+
+"This is a photograph of a snail farm which I took last summer at
+Engelberg, near Lucerne. The owner of the farm is a peasant and he has over
+three thousand Roman snails, some of them of immense size. He sends them to
+Italy and Paris. They are worth about three a penny, and when dressed and
+cooked ready for eating they sell for nearly two shillings a dozen."--Miss
+I. M. Fairbairn, Wood Rising, Rye, Sussex.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII,
+Issue 160, April, 1904, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 37484-8.txt or 37484-8.zip *****
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Strand, Volume 27, Issue 160, April 1904.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII, Issue
+160, April, 1904, 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 XXVII, Issue 160, April, 1904
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2011 [EBook #37484]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dianna Adair, Jonathan Ingram, Josephine
+Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="notes">Trancriber's Note: Table of Contents has been created for the HTML version and footnotes moved to the end
+of the article.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p362.jpg" width="406" height="500" alt="SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF TWELVE, AND HER MOTHER.
+
+From an Unpublished Photograph by C. Robert, Paris." title="" />
+<span class="caption">SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF TWELVE, AND HER MOTHER.<br />
+
+From an Unpublished Photograph by C. Robert, Paris.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p>
+<h1><span class="smcap">The Strand Magazine.</span></h1>
+
+<h2>
+Vol. xxvii.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;APRIL, 1904.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No. 160.<br />
+</h2>
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#The_Memoirs_of_Sarah_Bernhardt"><b>The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_RETURN_OF_SHERLOCK_HOLMESA"><b>The Return Of Sherlock Holmes.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Romance_of_the_Bronze_Duke"><b>The Romance of the Bronze Duke.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Two_and_a_Tiger"><b>Two and a Tiger.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Best_Comic_Pictures"><b>The Best Comic Pictures.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Country_of_the_Blind"><b>The Country of the Blind.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Off_the_Track_in_London"><b>Off the Track in London.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Artists_and_Musicians"><b>Artists and Musicians.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Owner_of_the_Patriarch"><b>The Owner of the "Patriarch".</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Detectives_at_School"><b>Detectives at School.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#DIALSTONE_LANEA"><b>Dialstone Lane</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Atlantic_River"><b>The Atlantic River</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Phoenix_and_the_CarpetA"><b>The Phoenix and the Carpet.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#The_Making_of_a_Lily"><b>The Making of a Lily.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#Curiosities"><b>Curiosities.</b></a><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="The_Memoirs_of_Sarah_Bernhardt" id="The_Memoirs_of_Sarah_Bernhardt"></a><i>The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[These Memoirs, written by the greatest actress of our
+time, will give not only the story of her career in the
+theatrical world, but also in social life, in which she
+has, of course, met nearly all the celebrated people of
+the day, from Royalties downwards, and will be found
+throughout of the most striking interest to all classes
+of readers.]</p></div>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.&mdash;CHILDHOOD.</h3>
+
+<p>My mother was fond of travelling: she would go from Spain to England, from
+London to Paris, from Paris to Berlin, and from there to Christiania; then
+she would come back, embrace me, and set out again for Holland, her native
+country. She used to send my nurse clothing for herself and cakes for me.
+To one of my aunts she would write: "Look after little Sarah; I shall
+return in a month's time." A month later she would write to another of her
+sisters: "Go and see the child at her nurse's; I shall be back in a couple
+of weeks."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p363b.jpg" width="600" height="403" alt="MME. SARAH BERNHARDT&#39;S DEDICATORY LETTER.
+
+SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THIS MAGAZINE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">MME. SARAH BERNHARDT&#39;S DEDICATORY LETTER.
+
+SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THIS MAGAZINE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Je suis heureux de d&eacute;dier le premier chapitre de mes M&eacute;moires au peuple
+anglais, qui, le premier de tous les peuples &eacute;trangers, m'a accueillie avec
+une si grande bienveillance qu'il m'a fait croire en moi.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Sarah Bernhardt</span>,
+Paris, 1904."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Translation.</span>&mdash;"I am pleased to dedicate the first chapter of my Memoirs to
+the English people, who, first among all foreign nations, welcomed me with
+such great kindness that they made me believe in myself."</p></div>
+
+<p>My mother's age was nineteen; I was three years old, and my two aunts were
+seventeen and twenty years of age; another aunt was fifteen, and the eldest
+was twenty-eight, but the last one lived at Martinique, and was the mother
+of six children. My grandmother was blind, my grandfather dead, and my
+father had been in China for the last two years. I have no idea why he had
+gone there.</p>
+
+<p>My youthful aunts always promised to come to see me, but rarely kept their
+word. My nurse hailed from Brittany and lived near Quimperl&eacute;, in a little
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>white house with a low thatched roof, on which wild gillyflowers grew.
+That was the first flower which charmed my eyes as a child, and I have
+loved it ever since. Its leaves are heavy and sad-looking, and its petals
+are made of the setting sun.</p>
+
+<p>Brittany is a long way off, even in our present epoch of velocity. In those
+days it was the end of the world. Fortunately my nurse was, it appears, a
+good, kind woman, and, as her own child had died, she had only me to love.
+But she loved after the manner of poor people, when she had time.</p>
+
+<p>One day, as her husband was ill, she went into the fields to help gather in
+potatoes; the over-damp soil was rotting them, and there was no time to be
+lost. She left me in charge of her husband, who was lying on his Breton
+bedstead suffering from a bad attack of lumbago. The good woman had placed
+me in my high chair, and had been careful to put in the wooden peg which
+supported the narrow tablet for my toys. She threw a fagot in the grate,
+and said to me in Breton language (until the age of four I only understood
+Breton), "Be a good girl, Milk Blossom." That was my only name at the time.
+When she had gone I tried to withdraw the wooden peg which she had taken so
+much trouble to put in place. Finally I succeeded in pushing aside the
+little rampart. I wanted to reach the ground, but&mdash;poor little me!&mdash;I fell
+into the fire, which was burning joyfully.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p364.jpg" width="500" height="321" alt="SARAH BERNHARDT&#39;S HOME IN BRITTANY WHEN SHE WAS A CHILD.
+
+From a Photo." title="" />
+<span class="caption">SARAH BERNHARDT&#39;S HOME IN BRITTANY WHEN SHE WAS A CHILD.<br />
+
+From a Photo.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The screams of my foster-father, who could not move, brought in some
+neighbours. I was thrown, all smoking, into a large pail of fresh milk. My
+aunts were informed of what had happened; they communicated the news to my
+mother, and for the next four days that quiet part of the country was
+ploughed by stage-coaches, which arrived in rapid succession. My aunts came
+from all parts of the world; and my mother, in the greatest alarm, hastened
+from Brussels with Baron Larrey, one of her friends, who was a celebrated
+doctor, and a surgeon whom Baron Larrey had brought with him. I have been
+told since that nothing was more painful to witness, and yet so charming,
+as my mother's despair. The doctor approved of the "mask of butter," which
+was changed every two hours.</p>
+
+<p>Dear Baron Larrey! I often saw him afterwards, and now and again we shall
+meet him in the pages of my Memoirs. He used to tell me in such charming
+fashion how those kind folks loved Milk Blossom. And he could never refrain
+from laughing at the thought of that butter. There was butter everywhere,
+he used to say; on the bedsteads, on the cupboards, on the chairs, on the
+tables, hanging up on nails in bladders. All the neighbours used to bring
+butter to make masks for Milk Blossom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mother, admirably beautiful, looking like a Madonna, with her golden hair
+and her eyes fringed with such long lashes that they made a shadow on her
+cheeks when she bent her eyes, distributed money on all sides. She would
+have given her golden hair, her slender white fingers, her tiny feet, her
+life itself, in order to save the child. And she was as sincere in her
+despair and her love as in her unconscious forgetfulness. Baron Larrey left
+for Paris, leaving my mother, Aunt Rosine, and the surgeon with me.
+Forty-two days later mother took in triumph to Paris the nurse, the
+foster-father, and me, and installed us in a little house at Neuilly, on
+the banks of the Seine. I had not even a scar, it appears. My skin was
+rather too bright a pink, but that was all. My mother, happy and trustful
+once more, began to travel again, leaving me in care of my aunts.</p>
+
+<p>Two years were spent in the little garden at Neuilly, which was full of
+horrible dahlias, growing close together and coloured like woollen balls.
+My aunts never came there. My mother used to send money, bonbons, and toys.
+The foster-father died, and my nurse married a concierge, who used to pull
+open the door at 65, Rue de Provence.</p>
+
+<p>Not knowing where to find my mother, and not being able to write, my
+nurse&mdash;without telling any of my friends took me with her to her new abode.</p>
+
+<p>The change delighted me. I was five years old at the time, and I remember
+the day as if it were yesterday. My nurse's abode was just over the doorway
+of the house, and the window was framed in the heavy and monumental door.
+From outside I thought it was beautiful, and I began to clap my hands on
+reaching the house. It was towards five o'clock in the evening in the month
+of November, when everything looks grey. I was put to bed, and no doubt I
+went to sleep at once, for there end my souvenirs of that day.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning there was terrible grief in store for me. There was no
+window in the little room in which I slept, and I began to cry, and escaped
+from the arms of my nurse, who was dressing me, so that I could go into the
+adjoining room. I ran to the round window, which was an immense
+"bull's-eye" above the doorway, I pressed my stubborn brow against the
+glass and began to scream with rage on seeing no trees; no box-wood, no
+leaves falling, nothing, nothing but stone&mdash;cold, grey, ugly stone, and
+panes of glass opposite me. "I want to go away. I don't want to stay here.
+It is all black, black! It is ugly! I want to see the ceiling of the
+street!" and I burst into tears. My poor nurse took me up in her arms and,
+folding me in a rug, took me down into the courtyard. "Lift up your head,
+Milk Blossom, and look! See, there is the ceiling of the street!"</p>
+
+<p>It comforted me somewhat to see that there was some sky in this ugly place,
+but my little soul was very sad. I could not eat, and I grew pale and
+became an&aelig;mic, and I should certainly have died of consumption if it had
+not been for a mere chance, a most unexpected incident. One day I was
+playing in the courtyard with a little girl named Titine, who lived on the
+second floor, and whose face or real name I cannot recall. I saw my nurse's
+husband walking across the courtyard with two ladies, one of whom was most
+fashionably attired. I could only see their backs, but the voice of the
+fashionably-attired lady caused my heart to stop beating. My poor little
+body trembled with nervous excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Do any of the windows look on to the courtyard?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, madame, those four," he replied, pointing to four open ones on the
+first floor.</p>
+
+<p>The lady turned to look at them, and I uttered a cry of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Rosine! Aunt Rosine!" I exclaimed, clinging to the skirts of the
+pretty visitor. I buried my face in her furs, stamping, sobbing, laughing,
+and tearing her wide lace sleeves in my frenzy of delight. She took me in
+her arms and tried to calm me, and, questioning the concierge, she
+stammered out to her friend, "I can't understand what it all means! This is
+little Sarah! My sister Youle's child!"</p>
+
+<p>The noise I made had attracted attention, and people opened their windows.
+My aunt decided to take refuge in the concierge's lodge, in order to come
+to an explanation. My poor nurse told her all that had taken place&mdash;her
+husband's death and her second marriage. I do not remember what she said to
+excuse herself. I clung to my aunt, who was deliciously perfumed, and I
+would not let go of her.</p>
+
+<p>She promised to come the following day to fetch me, but I did not want to
+stay any longer in that dark place. I asked to start at once with my nurse.
+My aunt stroked my hair gently, and spoke to her friend in a language I did
+not understand. She tried in vain to explain something to me&mdash;I do not know
+what it was&mdash;but I insisted that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> wanted to go away with her at once. In
+a gentle, tender, caressing voice, but without any real affection, she said
+all kinds of pretty things, stroked me with her gloved hands, patted my
+frock, which was turned up, and made any amount of charming, frivolous
+little gestures, but all without any real feeling. She then went away, at
+her friend's entreaty, after emptying her purse in my nurse's hands. I
+rushed towards the door, but the husband of my nurse, who had opened it for
+her, now closed it again. My nurse was crying, and, taking me in her arms,
+she opened the window, saying to me: "Don't cry, Milk Blossom; look at your
+pretty aunt. She will come back again, and then you can go away with her."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p366.jpg" width="450" height="337" alt="RUE DE PROVENCE, WHERE SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF FIVE,
+WAS TAKEN TO LIVE WITH HER NURSE.
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert Paris." title="" />
+<span class="caption">RUE DE PROVENCE, WHERE SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF FIVE,
+WAS TAKEN TO LIVE WITH HER NURSE.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert Paris.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Great tears rolled down her calm, round, handsome face. I could see nothing
+but the dark, black hole which remained there immutable behind me, and in a
+fit of despair I rushed out to my aunt, who was just getting into a
+carriage. After that I knew nothing more; everything seemed dark; there was
+a noise in the distance. I could hear voices far, far away. I had managed
+to escape from my poor nurse and had fallen down on the pavement in front
+of my aunt. I had broken my arm in two places and injured my left knee-cap.
+I only came to myself again a few hours later, to find that I was in a
+beautiful wide bed which smelt very nice. It stood in the middle of a large
+room, with two lovely windows, which made me very joyful, for I could see
+the ceiling of Heaven through them.</p>
+
+<p>My mother, who had been sent for immediately, came to take care of me, and
+I saw the rest of my family, my aunts and my cousins. My poor little brain
+could not understand why all these people should suddenly be so fond of me,
+when I had passed so many days and nights only cared for by one single
+person.</p>
+
+<p>As I was weakly and my bones were small and friable, I was two years
+recovering from this terrible fall, and during that time was nearly always
+carried about. I will pass over these two years of my life, which have left
+me only a vague memory of being petted, and of a chronic state of torpor.</p>
+
+<p>One day my mother took me on her knees and said to me, "You are a big girl
+now, and you must learn to read and write." I was then seven years old and
+could neither read, write, nor count, as I had been five years with the old
+nurse and two years ill. "You must go to school," continued my mother,
+playing with my curly hair, "like a big girl." I did not know what all this
+meant, and I asked what a school was.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a place where there are many little girls," replied my mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they ill?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. They are quite well, like you are now, and they play together, and
+are very gay and happy."</p>
+
+<p>I jumped about in delight and gave free vent to my joy, but on seeing tears
+in my mother's eyes I flung myself in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"But what about you, mamma?" I asked. "You will be all alone and you won't
+have any little girl."</p>
+
+<p>She bent down to me and said, "God has told me that he will send me some
+flowers and a little baby."</p>
+
+<p>My delight was more and more boisterous. "Then I shall have a little
+brother!" I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> exclaimed, "or else a little sister! Oh, no, I don't want
+that; I don't like little sisters!"</p>
+
+<p>Mamma kissed me very affectionately, and then I was dressed, I remember, in
+a blue corded velvet frock, of which I was very proud. Arrayed thus in all
+my splendour, I waited impatiently for Aunt Rosine's carriage, which was to
+take us to Auteuil.</p>
+
+<p>It was about three o'clock when she arrived. The housemaid had gone on
+about an hour before, and I had watched with delight my little trunk and my
+toys being packed into the carriage. The maid climbed up and took the seat
+by the driver, in spite of my mother protesting at first against this. When
+my aunt's magnificent equipage arrived, mamma was the first to get in,
+slowly and calmly. I got in slowly too, giving myself airs because the
+concierge and some of the shop-keepers were watching. My aunt then sprang
+in lightly, but by no means calmly, after giving her orders in English to
+the stiff, ridiculous-looking coachman, and handing him a paper on which
+the address was written. Another carriage followed ours, in which three men
+were seated: R&eacute;gis L&mdash;&mdash;, a friend of my father's, General de P&mdash;&mdash;, and an
+artist named Fleury, I think, whose pictures of horses and sporting
+subjects were very much in vogue just then.</p>
+
+<p>I heard on the way that these gentlemen were going to arrange about a
+little dinner near Auteuil to console mamma for her great trouble in being
+separated from me. Some other guests were to be there to meet them. I did
+not pay very much attention to what my mother and my aunt said to each
+other. Sometimes when they spoke of me they talked either English or
+German, and smiled at me affectionately. The long drive was greatly
+appreciated by me, for, with my face pressed against the window and my eyes
+wide open, I gazed out eagerly at the grey, muddy road, with its ugly
+houses on each side and its bare trees. I thought it was all very
+beautiful&mdash;because it kept changing.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage stopped at 18, Rue Boileau, Auteuil. On the iron gate was a
+long, dark signboard, with gold letters. I looked up at it, and mamma said:
+"You will be able to read that soon, I hope." My aunt whispered to me,
+"Boarding School. Madame Fressard," and, very promptly, I said to mamma:
+"It says, 'Boarding School. Madame Fressard.'"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p367.jpg" width="500" height="392" alt="THE EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENT AT AUTEUIL WHERE SARAH
+BERNHARDT PASSED SOME OF HER EARLY YEARS.
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENT AT AUTEUIL WHERE SARAH
+BERNHARDT PASSED SOME OF HER EARLY YEARS.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mamma, my aunt, and the three gentlemen laughed heartily at my assurance,
+and we entered the house. Mme. Fressard came forward to meet us, and I
+liked her at once. She was of medium height, rather stout, with a small
+waist, and her hair turning grey "en S&eacute;vign&eacute;." She had beautiful, large
+eyes, rather like George Sand's; very white teeth, which showed up all the
+more as her complexion was rather tawny. She looked healthy, spoke kindly;
+her hands were plump and her fingers long. She took my hand gently in hers
+and, half-kneeling, so that her face was level with mine, she said, in a
+musical voice, "You won't be afraid of me, will you, little girl?" I did
+not answer, but my face flushed as red as a coxcomb. She asked me several
+questions, but I refused to reply. They all gathered round me. "Speak,
+child!" "Come, Sarah, be a good girl!" "Oh, the naughty little child!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was all in vain. I remained perfectly mute. The customary round was then
+made of the bedrooms, the dining-hall, the class-rooms, and the usual
+exaggerated compliments were paid. "How beautifully it is all kept! How
+spotlessly clean everything is!" and a hundred stupidities of this kind
+about the comfort of these prisons for children. My mother went aside with
+Mme. Fressard, and I clung to her knees so that she could not walk. "This
+is the doctor's prescription," she said, and then followed a long list of
+things that were to be done for me.</p>
+
+<p>Mme. Fressard smiled rather ironically. "You know, madame," she said to my
+mother, "we shall not be able to curl her hair like that." "And you
+certainly will not be able to uncurl it," replied my mother, stroking my
+head with her gloved hands. "It's a regular wig, and they must never
+attempt to comb it until it has been well brushed. They could not possibly
+get the knots out otherwise, and it would hurt her too much. What do you
+give the children at four o'clock?" she asked, changing the subject. "Oh, a
+slice of bread and just what the parents leave for them."</p>
+
+<p>"There are twelve pots of different kinds of jam," said my mother, "but she
+must have jam one day and chocolate another, as she has not a good
+appetite, and requires change of food. I have brought six pounds of
+chocolate." Mme. Fressard smiled in a good-natured but rather ironical way.
+She picked up a packet of the chocolate and looked at the mark.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! from Marquis? What a spoilt little girl it is!" She patted my cheek
+with her white fingers, and then, as her eyes fell on a large jar, she
+looked surprised. "That's cold cream," said my mother. "I make it myself,
+and I should like my little girl's face and hands to be rubbed with it
+every night when she goes to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;" began Mme. Fressard.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll pay double laundry expenses for the sheets," interrupted my
+mother, impatiently. (Ah! my poor mother, I remember quite well that my
+sheets were changed once a month, like those of the other pupils.)</p>
+
+<p>The farewell moment came at last, and everyone gathered round mamma, and
+finally carried her off, after a great deal of kissing, and with all kinds
+of consoling words. "It will be so good for her." "It is just what she
+needs." "You'll find her quite changed when you see her again," etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p>The General, who was very fond of me, picked me up in his arms and tossed
+me in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"You little chit," he said; "they are putting you to the barracks, and
+you'll have to mind your pace!"</p>
+
+<p>I pulled his long moustache, and he said, winking, and looking in the
+direction of Mme. Fressard, who had a slight moustache, "You mustn't do
+that to the lady, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>My aunt laughed heartily, and my mother gave a little stifled laugh, and
+the whole troop went off in a regular whirlwind of rustling skirts and
+farewells, whilst I was taken away to the cage where I was to be
+imprisoned.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I spent two years at this school, and I learned to read, write, and do
+sums. I also learned plenty of new games, and to sing <i>rondeaux</i> and
+embroider handkerchiefs for mamma.</p>
+
+<p>I was comparatively happy on the whole, because we went out on Sundays and
+Thursdays, and I had a sort of sensation of liberty on those days. The sun
+in the street seemed to me quite different from the sun in the big garden
+belonging to the school. My Aunt Felix Faure (no relation to the wife of
+the late President) often fetched me and took me out with her. There was a
+little brook running through the grounds round her house at Neuilly, and I
+used to spend hours fishing in it with my two cousins, a boy and a girl.</p>
+
+<p>These two years passed by peacefully enough, the chief events being my
+terrible fits of temper, which upset the whole school occasionally, and
+ended usually by my spending two or three days in the sick-room. One day
+Aunt Rosine arrived suddenly, to take me away altogether. My father had
+written giving orders as to where I was to be placed, and these orders were
+imperative. My mother was travelling, so she had sent word to my aunt, who
+had hurried off at once between two dances, to carry out the instructions
+she had received.</p>
+
+<p>The idea that I was to be ordered about without any regard to my own wishes
+or inclinations put me into an indescribable rage. I rolled about on the
+ground, uttering the most heartrending cries. I yelled out all kinds of
+reproaches, blaming mamma, my aunts, and Mme. Fressard for not finding some
+way to keep me with her. The struggle lasted two hours, and while I was
+being dressed I escaped twice into the garden and attempted to climb the
+trees and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> throw myself into the pond, in which there was more mud than
+water.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p369.jpg" width="500" height="329" alt="THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT, VERSAILLES.
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT, VERSAILLES.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Finally, when I was completely exhausted and subdued, I was taken off
+sobbing in my aunt's carriage.</p>
+
+<p>I stayed three days at her house, as I was so feverish that they all
+thought I was sickening for some illness. It proved to be nothing but the
+result of my wild fit of anger.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I will pass over some pages which my readers will find later on in my
+Memoirs, and will go on to the time when I was at the Grand Champ Convent
+at Versailles, whither I had been taken after various events.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Endowed with a lively imagination and with an extremely sensitive nature,
+the Christian legend appealed both to my heart and mind. The Divine Martyr
+became my ideal, and the Mother with the Seven Sorrows I simply worshipped.</p>
+
+<p>An event which seemed simple enough in itself, but which was very
+important, as, indeed, everything is which disturbs, if only for an hour,
+the tranquillity of convent life, served to attach me more strongly than
+ever to this peaceful home. It seemed to me to be the place for all earthly
+happiness and the road to eternal peace in the next world.</p>
+
+<p>The Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur Sibour, was to honour the convent by
+paying a sacerdotal visit. It was not only the father coming to look after
+the welfare of his children, but, and more particularly this, it was the
+Prince of the Church condescending to appear in the midst of these humble
+and holy women and pure children. It was a Divine Majesty coming down from
+the throne to mingle with his human subjects.</p>
+
+<p>The whole convent was in a state of great excitement when the good news was
+received, and I must own that there was more enthusiasm than solemnity
+visible during the time that preceded the visit. The chapel was decorated
+with all its most special ornaments for this most special reception. The
+whole house was filled with flowers, and what particularly delighted me and
+several of my companions was that a play taken from a Biblical subject was
+rehearsed for the benefit of Monseigneur. I should not like to affirm that
+the privileged ones who were chosen to take part in this play had no vanity
+on their conscience on that particular day. It was no small glory to appear
+before a public, limited certainly in number, but so wonderfully select.</p>
+
+<p>I was only a fragile child at that time, interesting rather than pretty, in
+spite of my rose-coloured lips, my "heavenly eyes," as the nuns called
+them, and my light gold hair. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> is from that far-back time that my
+earliest theatrical souvenirs date. It was St. Catherine's Day, a general
+holiday in all the convents for girls, but with us, this year, it was a
+very great day. Much more attention than usual had been given to the
+rehearsals of the play that was to be performed. The subject of the piece
+had been taken from the Bible. It was the journey of young Tobias, and had
+been written by Sister Th&eacute;r&egrave;se.</p>
+
+<p>The girls who had <i>r&ocirc;les</i> were wild with delight. They had had committee
+meetings, at which they discussed the quality of the piece, and I may add
+that it was unanimously pronounced perfectly wonderful. All around me I
+heard nothing but exclamations of joy and admiration, and I alone was
+wretched, absolutely wretched, for I had no <i>r&ocirc;le</i>. What misery I endured
+in the midst of all this joy! My dear Mother&mdash;as we called the elder girls
+who looked after us&mdash;never thought of trying to comfort me nor yet to
+reason with me; she was too much taken up herself with the great event. I
+could, therefore, weep and fume to my heart's content. I knew all the
+<i>r&ocirc;les</i> by heart, and I thought that most of the girls recited their parts
+very badly. Finally I undertook to coach Louise Bugnet in her <i>r&ocirc;le</i>. She
+was to play the part of the guiding angel, and she could not manage it at
+all. She was ten years old, and I liked her very much. She was my special
+friend. "How silly you are!" I said to her. "If I were in your place I
+should not be at all nervous. Listen! this is how I should say it." And
+standing in front of her I went through her part, and she then repeated it
+much better after me. But the next day, at the final rehearsal, in the
+large room which we used on holidays, she was seized with such a trembling
+fit that she could not utter a single word. We were all there together, and
+Mother Sainte-Appoline was drilling us in her own way. She imitated
+Monseigneur Sibour, who was to be present at the performance, and she said,
+"When he does like this you must all clap," and when she clapped her long,
+delicate hands together, it sounded as though there were cotton-wool
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>I should have enjoyed all this immensely if I had not been furious. I knew
+all the <i>r&ocirc;les</i> and had not a single word to say. Most of the girls were
+beaming with pride; Louise Bugnet alone was crying and sobbing. I thought
+her very stupid.</p>
+
+<p>"That child will never get through her part," exclaimed the Mother
+Superior.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I can't; I am sure I can't!" sobbed my poor little friend.</p>
+
+<p>There was a general uproar, and all at once I felt my childish heart leap
+with the wildest joy. The blood seemed to boil in my veins, and, rushing
+from the platform, I jumped on to a form. "Mother! Mother!" I exclaimed, "I
+know the <i>r&ocirc;le</i>. Would you like me to take it?"</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was looking at me. I was trembling, but I felt quite brave. I
+knew the part and was sure of myself.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Sainte-Sophie, the Superior of the Convent, an adorable creature
+(one of the happy memories of my childhood), answered: "Well, my dear, let
+me hear you."</p>
+
+<p>I tossed back my refractory hair, and, bold and panting, proceeded to
+recite the <i>r&ocirc;le</i> of the guiding angel.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" I exclaimed, when I came to the end.</p>
+
+<p>My schoolfellows laughed, the sisters smiled, but, very much encouraged, I
+mounted on to the little platform and the rehearsal commenced.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be all right," everyone said, and I felt very proud, but still I
+was afraid lest I should not get through well enough.</p>
+
+<p>When the rehearsal was over the luncheon bell rang, but I could neither eat
+nor drink; I felt choked and oppressed. How many times since then I have
+had this same sensation of physical anguish!</p>
+
+<p>On the table there was a special treat that day&mdash;a dish of custard. I was
+very fond of this, but I could not possibly swallow anything. I glanced
+anxiously at the girls to see if they were looking or listening. They were
+eating and laughing. Louise Bugnet took my share of the custard. "Look
+here!" she said, "you've taken my <i>r&ocirc;le</i>, so I can eat your custard." I
+began to cry, for I was very fond of custard. Fortunately, just then Sister
+Sainte-Marie came to fetch me to be dressed, otherwise I should have had a
+fit of temper, and it is quite probable that my silver goblet and my pewter
+plate would have landed in the middle of the table. I was taken into the
+large committee-room. I had never been in it before, and to my childish
+imagination there was something mysterious about it.</p>
+
+<p>I shuddered on entering, for it seemed to me I should hear all those rules
+that were discussed in there twice a month. A looking-glass had been
+brought in, the only one I ever saw in the convent. It belonged to P&egrave;re
+Larcher, the gardener, the only man who was free to come in and out of the
+house. The glass was too small and was framed in oak, with a bird carved on
+the top.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> I can see it now, with the tinfoil worn off in patches and marks
+all over it which interfered with its transparency. The nuns kept at a safe
+distance from it as though it were a danger, and their black veils were
+lowered over their white cr&ecirc;pe ones. The sister who attended to the
+turning-box, the only one in the convent who was not cloistered (because it
+was she who had to deal with the tradesmen), was told off to dress us. She
+put a long white gown on me with large sleeves, and two beautiful white
+wings were then fastened on to me. My hair had been well curled and was
+tied over my forehead with a gold lace.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p371.jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT FROM THE GARDEN.
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT FROM THE GARDEN.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Oh, dear, how my poor little heart was beating!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the convent bells began to peal gaily; a carriage rolled up into
+the courtyard and Monseigneur Sibour made his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>I was too little and could not see, although I did my utmost to make myself
+higher. P&egrave;re Larcher lifted me up in his arms, and then what a magnificent
+sight I beheld.</p>
+
+<p>Monseigneur had alighted from his episcopal carriage and Mother
+Sainte-Sophie, our Mother Superior, was kneeling down and kissing his ring.
+All the nuns, with bowed heads, were awaiting the signal to kneel down and
+receive his blessing.</p>
+
+<p>I thought all this very beautiful. All these black gowns with white caps,
+and then this tall man in violet, with white hair, so majestic looking, and
+yet with such a kind, fatherly expression on his face. Then, too, there
+were the carriage and the fat coachman, all bedizened and yet sitting up
+straight and looking so solemn on his draped seat, and our chaplain, both
+gentle and severe&mdash;I thought it was all superb, and I decided to become a
+nun.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed by, during which I knew absolutely nothing of what was said
+or done.</p>
+
+<p>I was waiting, very tired after all my emotion, and half asleep, too, in
+the armchair which belonged to the old M&egrave;re Sainte-Alexis, the most aged
+member of the community.</p>
+
+<p>A light touch woke me. I was dreaming of my <i>r&ocirc;le</i> and was not, therefore,
+at all surprised. I exclaimed, as I rushed towards the door, "Ah, they are
+going to commence!"</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, I had forgotten my long dress, and I fell down in the middle
+of the room. The merriment which my accident caused put me in such a rage
+that the tears which the pain in my knees brought to my eyes dried up
+promptly. "I haven't hurt myself, there now!" I exclaimed, furious, and
+then went into the small room which was to serve as our green-room.</p>
+
+<p>The stage was represented by a plank of wood, which prevented our passing
+the limits arranged. There was, of course, no sign of a curtain. A wooden
+bench and a table, upon which was the frugal repast of old Tobias,
+constituted the scenery.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! there were also two stools, which one of the girls had to move about as
+required. When I entered our green-room the entertainment had commenced,
+but it was not time for our play. The eldest boarder was reciting the
+address which had been composed in honour of Monseigneur. Her hard, dry
+voice, repeating correctly the words she had learned, sounded to me like
+the creaking of a door. We were eleven little girls in this small room, and
+not one of us uttered a word. We could hear the beating of our hearts. Our
+feverish little hands, clasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> together from habit in prayer, were
+clenched now in terror.</p>
+
+<p>This opening number was over at last, and the girl was presented with a
+cross that had been blessed. She assured us that she had not been nervous,
+and that it was quite easy. We had only to look at the bright light which
+the sun threw on the frame of the large picture representing Heaven, with
+all the angels. In this way each one could imagine herself alone.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 256px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p372.jpg" width="256" height="350" alt="MME. SARAH BERNHARDT.
+
+From a Photo. by Lafayette." title="" />
+<span class="caption">MME. SARAH BERNHARDT.<br />
+
+From a Photo. by Lafayette.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>After this Marie Hubart played a piano-forte solo. Nothing was spared for
+this great ceremony, and then, at last, it was our turn. I will not give
+the details of the piece, as it is well known. I tell this as one of my
+souvenirs, as it was my <i>d&eacute;but</i>. I came very near entering a nunnery. It
+seemed to me that there was nothing better, nothing which could make me
+happier. In my childish imagination I could see angels drawing me
+heavenwards. The only way appeared to be through the convent. In the
+meantime I was about to appear on the stage.</p>
+
+<p>I felt paralyzed, and a shudder ran through me from the back of my neck to
+my feet. I fancy that I missed the right moment for appearing on the scene,
+as one of the girls pushed me forward, just as my professor, Monsieur M.
+Provost, had to do some years later when I made my <i>d&eacute;but</i> in "Iphigenia"
+at the Com&eacute;die Fran&ccedil;aise. My entrance was a success, for I had a sudden fit
+of self-assurance, although I was really half delirious with fright, and I
+went through my part very well, adding whole phrases to it. I scarcely knew
+what I was saying, but I continued nevertheless.</p>
+
+<p>When the piece was over the guiding angel was sent for by Monseigneur. I
+was perfectly triumphant.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your name, my child?" asked Monseigneur.</p>
+
+<p>"Sarah," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"That name must be changed," he said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the Superior, "her father wants her to be baptized and to
+be called Henriette; the ceremony is to take place in a month."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Sarah or Henriette," said Monseigneur, "here is a medal that you
+must always wear, and the next time I come here you must recite some
+poetry, 'Esther's Prayer,' for me."</p>
+
+<p>Monseigneur then kissed me, and this caused some jealousy. I promised him
+that I would learn "Esther's Prayer" for his next visit. I had only a vague
+idea of what he meant by poetry. I knew some fables, but was not aware that
+they were poetry. I asked to have something to learn at once for
+Monseigneur, and "Esther's Prayer" was given to me. I began to study it
+without a moment's delay. Alas! I was never to recite it to him. A few days
+later, one morning after prayers, when we were all assembled in the chapel,
+the almoner, who was deeply moved, told us in a short address that
+Monseigneur Sibour had just been assassinated.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Little had we expected to
+hear such terrible news.</p>
+
+<p>All feelings of envy and triumph, together with the joyful remembrance of
+our <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, were swept away in this great grief, which, for my part, I have
+never forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Assassinated! A wave of terror seemed to pass over us, and the dread word,
+echoing through the church, smote me more particularly. Had I not been
+marked out as the favourite of the moment? It was to me as though the
+murderer, Verger, had robbed me at the same time of my little share of
+glory. I began to cry, more with regret than sorrow, and the prayers for
+the dead, that we were told to say, brought my grief to a climax. I was
+carried away in a fainting-fit, and it was from that time that I was taken
+with an ardent love for mysticism, which was encouraged by our religious
+observances, the <i>mise-en-sc&egrave;ne</i> of our services, and perhaps, too, by the
+fervent and cajoling approval of the women who were educating me. They were
+very fond of me and I adored them, so that even now the memory of them
+thrills my heart with affection.</p>
+
+<h4>
+(<i>To be continued.</i>)
+</h4>
+
+<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> He was killed by the Abb&eacute; Verger, a priest who had been
+suspended from office, Jan. 1, 1857.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_RETURN_OF_SHERLOCK_HOLMESA" id="THE_RETURN_OF_SHERLOCK_HOLMESA"></a>THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>.</h2>
+
+<h3>By A. CONAN DOYLE.</h3>
+
+
+<h3><i>VII.&mdash;The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton.</i></h3>
+
+<p>It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is
+with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the
+utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the
+facts public; but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of
+human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion
+as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the
+career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me
+if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual
+occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had
+returned about six o'clock on a cold, frosty winter's evening. As Holmes
+turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at
+it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I
+picked it up and read:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Charles Augustus Milverton,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Appledore Towers,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Agent. Hampstead.</span><br /></p>
+
+
+<p>"Who is he?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The worst man in London," Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched
+his legs before the fire. "Is anything on the back of the card?"</p>
+
+<p>I turned it over.</p>
+
+<p>"Will call at 6.30&mdash;C. A. M.," I read.</p>
+
+<p>"Hum! He's about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson,
+when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo and see the slithery,
+gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened
+faces? Well, that's how Milverton impresses me. I've had to do with fifty
+murderers in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion
+which I have for this fellow. And yet I can't get out of doing business
+with him&mdash;indeed, he is here at my invitation."</p>
+
+<p>"But who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help
+the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into
+the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will
+squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius
+in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His
+method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay
+very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position.
+He receives these wares not only from treacherous valets or maids, but
+frequently from genteel ruffians who have gained the confidence and
+affection of trusting women. He deals with no niggard hand. I happen to
+know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in
+length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything
+which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this
+great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may
+fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to
+mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment
+when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man
+in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot
+blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure
+tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already
+swollen money-bags?"</p>
+
+<p>I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely," said I, "the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?"</p>
+
+<p>"Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman,
+for example, to get him a few months' imprisonment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> if her own ruin must
+immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed
+an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning
+as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 304px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p374.jpg" width="304" height="500" alt="&quot;CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"And why is he here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case in my hands. It
+is the Lady Eva Brackwell, the most beautiful <i>d&eacute;butante</i> of last season.
+She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of Dovercourt. This fiend
+has several imprudent letters&mdash;imprudent, Watson, nothing worse&mdash;which were
+written to an impecunious young squire in the country. They would suffice
+to break off the match. Milverton will send the letters to the Earl unless
+a large sum of money is paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him,
+and&mdash;to make the best terms I can."</p>
+
+<p>At that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below.
+Looking down I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps
+gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A footman opened
+the door, and a small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan overcoat descended.
+A minute later he was in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual
+head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen
+grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses.
+There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred
+only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those
+restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his
+countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring
+his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the
+outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's
+smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it
+with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.</p>
+
+<p>"This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is
+it right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Watson is my friend and partner."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I
+protested. The matter is so very delicate&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Watson has already heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Eva.
+Has she empowered you to accept my terms?"</p>
+
+<p>"What are your terms?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seven thousand pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"And the alternative?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir, it is painful to me to discuss it; but if the money is not
+paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the 18th." His
+insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Holmes thought for a little.</p>
+
+<p>"You appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters too much for
+granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My
+client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her
+future husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity."</p>
+
+<p>Milverton chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"You evidently do not know the Earl," said he.</p>
+
+<p>From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could clearly see that he did.</p>
+
+<p>"What harm is there in the letters?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They are sprightly&mdash;very sprightly," Milverton answered. "The lady was a
+charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of Dovercourt
+would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will
+let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that
+it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be
+placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so
+large a sum of money to regain them." He rose and seized his astrachan
+coat.</p>
+
+<p>Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a little," he said. "You go too fast. We would certainly make every
+effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter."</p>
+
+<p>Milverton relapsed into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I was sure that you would see it in that light," he purred.</p>
+
+<p>"At the same time," Holmes continued, "Lady Eva is not a wealthy woman. I
+assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon her resources,
+and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg, therefore,
+that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters
+at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can
+get."</p>
+
+<p>Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.</p>
+
+<p>"I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources," said he.
+"At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is
+a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little
+effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding
+present. Let me assure them that this little bundle of letters would give
+more joy than all the candelabra and butter-dishes in London."</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible," said Holmes.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!" cried Milverton, taking out a bulky
+pocket-book. "I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill-advised in not
+making an effort. Look at this!" He held up a little note with a
+coat-of-arms upon the envelope. "That belongs to&mdash;well, perhaps it is
+hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow morning. But at that time it
+will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not
+find a beggarly sum which she could get in an hour by turning her diamonds
+into paste. It <i>is</i> such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the
+engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two
+days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the <i>Morning Post</i> to say
+that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum
+of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not
+pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when
+your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes."</p>
+
+<p>"What I say is true," Holmes answered. "The money cannot be found. Surely
+it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer than to ruin
+this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?"</p>
+
+<p>"There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me
+indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases
+maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example
+of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more open to reason. You see
+my point?"</p>
+
+<p>Holmes sprang from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the
+contents of that note-book."</p>
+
+<p>Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and stood
+with his back against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," he said, turning the front of his coat and
+exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside
+pocket. "I have been expecting you to do something original. This has been
+done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I assure you that I am
+armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing
+that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring
+the letters here in a note-book is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so
+foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this
+evening,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> and it is a long drive to Hampstead." He stepped forward, took up
+his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked
+up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again. With a bow,
+a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments
+after we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle of the wheels
+as he drove away.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p376.jpg" width="500" height="501" alt="&quot;EXHIBITING THE BUTT OF A LARGE REVOLVER, WHICH PROJECTED
+FROM THE INSIDE POCKET.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;EXHIBITING THE BUTT OF A LARGE REVOLVER, WHICH PROJECTED
+FROM THE INSIDE POCKET.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser
+pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing
+embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture of
+a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his
+bedroom. A little later a rakish young work-man with a goatee beard and a
+swagger lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the street.
+"I'll be back some time, Watson," said he, and vanished into the night. I
+understood that he had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus
+Milverton; but I little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was
+destined to take.</p>
+
+<p>For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but beyond
+a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was not wasted,
+I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on a wild,
+tempestuous evening, when the wind screamed and rattled against the
+windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having removed his
+disguise he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow! I congrat&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To Milverton's housemaid."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, Holmes!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted information, Watson."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you have gone too far?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business,
+Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have talked
+with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I wanted. I
+know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand."</p>
+
+<p>"But the girl, Holmes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you
+can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I
+have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back
+is turned. What a splendid night it is!"</p>
+
+<p>"You like this weather?"</p>
+
+<p>"It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house to-night."</p>
+
+<p>I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words, which
+were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution. As a flash of
+lightning in the night shows up in an instant every detail of a wide
+landscape, so at one glance I seemed to see every possible result of such
+an action&mdash;the detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in
+irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of
+the odious Milverton.</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, Holmes, think what you are doing," I cried.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never
+precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed so
+dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the matter
+clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the action is
+morally justifiable, though technically criminal. To burgle his house is no
+more than to forcibly take his pocket-book&mdash;an action in which you were
+prepared to aid me."</p>
+
+<p>I turned it over in my mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said; "it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to take
+no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the
+question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much stress
+upon this when a lady is in most desperate need of his help?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will be in such a false position."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of
+regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the money, and there
+are none of her people in whom she could confide. To-morrow is the last day
+of grace, and unless we can get the letters to-night this villain will be
+as good as his word and will bring about her ruin. I must, therefore,
+abandon my client to her fate or I must play this last card. Between
+ourselves, Watson, it's a sporting duel between this fellow Milverton and
+me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first exchanges; but my
+self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't like it; but I suppose it must be," said I. "When do we
+start?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are not going," said I. "I give you my word of honour&mdash;and I
+never broke it in my life&mdash;that I will take a cab straight to the
+police-station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't help me."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my
+resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and even
+reputations."</p>
+
+<p>Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on the
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for
+some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.
+You know, Watson, I don't mind confessing to you that I have always had an
+idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. This is the chance
+of my lifetime in that direction. See here!" He took a neat little leather
+case out of a drawer, and opening it he exhibited a number of shining
+instruments. "This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with
+nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable keys, and every
+modern improvement which the march of civilization demands. Here, too, is
+my dark lantern. Everything is in order. Have you a pair of silent shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have rubber-soled tennis shoes."</p>
+
+<p>"Excellent. And a mask?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can make a couple out of black silk."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see that you have a strong natural turn for this sort of thing. Very
+good; do you make the masks. We shall have some cold supper before we
+start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall drive as far as Church
+Row. It is a quarter of an hour's walk from there to Appledore Towers. We
+shall be at work before midnight. Milverton is a heavy sleeper and retires
+punctually at ten-thirty. With any luck we should be back here by two, with
+the Lady Eva's letters in my pocket."</p>
+
+<p>Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to be two
+theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked up a hansom and
+drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid off our cab, and with our
+great-coats buttoned up, for it was bitterly cold and the wind seemed to
+blow through us, we walked along the edge of the Heath.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a business that needs delicate treatment," said Holmes. "These
+documents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> are contained in a safe in the fellow's study, and the study is
+the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other hand, like all these stout,
+little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric sleeper.
+Agatha&mdash;that's my <i>fianc&eacute;e</i>&mdash;says it is a joke in the servants' hall that
+it's impossible to wake the master. He has a secretary who is devoted to
+his interests and never budges from the study all day. That's why we are
+going at night. Then he has a beast of a dog which roams the garden. I met
+Agatha late the last two evenings, and she locks the brute up so as to give
+me a clear run. This is the house, this big one in its own grounds. Through
+the gate&mdash;now to the right among the laurels. We might put on our masks
+here, I think. You see, there is not a glimmer of light in any of the
+windows, and everything is working splendidly."</p>
+
+<p>With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of the most
+truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent, gloomy house. A
+sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined by several
+windows and two doors.</p>
+
+<p>"That's his bedroom," Holmes whispered. "This door opens straight into the
+study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as locked, and we
+should make too much noise getting in. Come round here. There's a
+greenhouse which opens into the drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the
+key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door behind
+us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The thick, warm air of
+the conservatory and the rich, choking fragrance of exotic plants took us
+by the throat. He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past
+banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable
+powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand
+in one of his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had
+entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He
+felt his way among the furniture, opened another door, and closed it behind
+us. Putting out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the wall, and I
+understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it, and Holmes very
+gently opened a door upon the right-hand side. Something rushed out at us
+and my heart sprang into my mouth, but I could have laughed when I realized
+that it was the cat. A fire was burning in this new room, and again the air
+was heavy with tobacco smoke. Holmes entered on tip-toe, waited for me to
+follow, and then very gently closed the door. We were in Milverton's study,
+and a <i>porti&egrave;re</i> at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door I saw
+the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even if it had
+been safe, to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was a heavy curtain,
+which covered the bay window we had seen from outside. On the other side
+was the door which communicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the
+centre, with a turning chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a large
+bookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner between
+the bookcase and the wall there stood a tall green safe, the firelight
+flashing back from the polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole
+across and looked at it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom, and
+stood with slanting head listening intently. No sound came from within.
+Meanwhile it had struck me that it would be wise to secure our retreat
+through the outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement it was neither
+locked nor bolted! I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his masked
+face in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently as surprised
+as I.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like it," he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. "I can't
+quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I do anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the inside,
+and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way, we can get
+through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these window curtains
+if it is not. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>I nodded and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear had passed away,
+and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were
+the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our
+mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the
+villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of
+the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our
+dangers. With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of
+instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a
+surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes
+was a particular hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him
+to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held
+in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of his
+dress-coat&mdash;he had placed his overcoat on a chair&mdash;Holmes laid out two
+drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the centre door with
+my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for any emergency; though,
+indeed, my plans were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were
+interrupted. For half an hour Holmes worked with concentrated energy,
+laying down one tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength
+and delicacy of the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad
+green door swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper
+packets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it
+was hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark
+lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to
+switch on the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and
+then in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up his
+coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window
+curtain, motioning me to do the same.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 478px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p379.jpg" width="478" height="768" alt="&quot;HE STOOD WITH SLANTING HEAD LISTENING INTENTLY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE STOOD WITH SLANTING HEAD LISTENING INTENTLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed his
+quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door
+slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the
+measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in the
+passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened. There
+was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed once
+more, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to our nostrils.
+Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards, backwards and
+forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a creak from a
+chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard
+the rustle of papers.</p>
+
+<p>So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division of
+the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of
+Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations.
+Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded
+back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely miscalculated his
+movements, that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had been
+sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wing of the
+house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with
+its shining patch of baldness, was in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> immediate foreground of our
+vision. He was leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs
+outstretched, a long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He
+wore a semi-military smoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet
+collar. In his hand he held a long legal document, which he was reading in
+an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lips as he did
+so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in his composed bearing and
+his comfortable attitude.</p>
+
+<p>I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if
+to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his
+mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only too obvious from my
+position, that the door of the safe was imperfectly closed, and that
+Milverton might at any moment observe it. In my own mind I had determined
+that if I were sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his
+eye, I would at once spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion
+him, and leave the rest to Holmes. But Milverton never looked up. He was
+languidly interested by the papers in his hand, and page after page was
+turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when
+he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room; but
+before he had reached the end of either there came a remarkable development
+which turned our thoughts into quite another channel.</p>
+
+<p>Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and once
+he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture of impatience. The idea,
+however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never
+occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda
+outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound
+was repeated, and then there came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose
+and opened it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said he, curtly, "you are nearly half an hour late."</p>
+
+<p>So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of the nocturnal vigil
+of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I had closed
+the slit between the curtains as Milverton's face had turned in our
+direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it once more. He had
+resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the
+corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric
+light, there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle
+drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the
+lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Milverton, "you've made me lose a good night's rest, my dear.
+I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come any other time&mdash;eh?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 438px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p380.jpg" width="438" height="450" alt="&quot;YOU COULDN&#39;T COME ANY OTHER TIME&mdash;EH?&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;YOU COULDN&#39;T COME ANY OTHER TIME&mdash;EH?&quot;</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The woman shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard mistress you
+have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the girl, what are you
+shivering about? That's right! Pull yourself together! Now, let us get down
+to business." He took a note from the drawer of his desk. "You say that you
+have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell
+them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I
+should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are really good
+specimens&mdash;&mdash;Great heavens, is it you?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman without a word had raised her veil and dropped the mantle from
+her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which confronted
+Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark eyebrows shading hard,
+glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It is I," she said; "the woman whose life you have ruined."</p>
+
+<p>Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "You were so very
+obstinate," said he. "Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure
+you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business,
+and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not
+pay."</p>
+
+<p>"So you sent the letters to my husband, and he, the noblest gentleman that
+ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace&mdash;he broke his
+gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through
+that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as
+you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips
+from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was
+that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone.
+Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't imagine that you can bully me," said he, rising to his feet. "I have
+only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested.
+But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as
+you came, and I will say no more."</p>
+
+<p>The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly
+smile on her thin lips.</p>
+
+<p>"You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more
+hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take
+that, you hound, and that!&mdash;and that!&mdash;and that!&mdash;and that!"</p>
+
+<p>She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel
+into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He
+shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and
+clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another
+shot, and rolled upon the floor. "You've done me," he cried, and lay still.
+The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned
+face. She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp
+rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and the avenger was gone.</p>
+
+<p>No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate; but
+as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's shrinking body I
+was about to spring out, when I felt Holmes's cold, strong grasp upon my
+wrist. I understood the whole argument of that firm, restraining grip&mdash;that
+it was no affair of ours; that justice had overtaken a villain; that we had
+our own duties and our own objects which were not to be lost sight of. But
+hardly had the woman rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent
+steps, was over at the other door. He turned the key in the lock. At the
+same instant we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet.
+The revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness Holmes
+slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters,
+and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the
+safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the
+door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter which had been the messenger
+of death for Milverton lay, all mottled with his blood, upon the table.
+Holmes tossed it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the
+outer door, passed through after me, and locked it on the outside. "This
+way, Watson," said he; "we can scale the garden wall in this direction."</p>
+
+<p>I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly.
+Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door was
+open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was alive
+with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the
+veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to know the ground
+perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small
+trees, I close at his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It
+was a six-foot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the top and
+over. As I did the same I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my
+ankle; but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. I
+fell upon my face among some bushes; but Holmes had me on my feet in an
+instant, and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead
+Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and
+listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off
+our pursuers and were safe.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 362px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p382.jpg" width="362" height="500" alt="&quot;THEN HE STAGGERED TO HIS FEET AND RECEIVED ANOTHER SHOT.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THEN HE STAGGERED TO HIS FEET AND RECEIVED ANOTHER SHOT.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after the
+remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland
+Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good morning. May I ask if you are
+very busy just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not too busy to listen to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you might
+care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only last night
+at Hampstead."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A murder&mdash;a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you are
+upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you would step
+down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your advice. It is no
+ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time,
+and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held
+papers which he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been
+burned by the murderers. No article of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> value was taken, as it is probable
+that the criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to
+prevent social exposure."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 316px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p383.jpg" width="316" height="495" alt="&quot;FOLLOWING HIS GAZE I SAW THE PICTURE OF A REGAL AND STATELY
+LADY IN COURT DRESS.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;FOLLOWING HIS GAZE I SAW THE PICTURE OF A REGAL AND STATELY
+LADY IN COURT DRESS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Criminals!" said Holmes. "Plural!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured
+red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their description; it's ten
+to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the
+second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away after a struggle.
+He was a middle-sized, strongly-built man&mdash;square jaw, thick neck,
+moustache, a mask over his eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "Why, it might be a
+description of Watson!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's true," said the inspector, with much amusement. "It might be a
+description of Watson."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The fact is
+that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one of the most
+dangerous men in London, and that I think there are certain crimes which
+the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private
+revenge. No, it's no use arguing. I have made up my mind. My sympathies are
+with the criminals rather than with the victim, and I will not handle this
+case."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had
+witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most
+thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, from his vacant eyes and
+his abstracted manner, of a man who is striving to recall something to his
+memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang to his
+feet. "By Jove, Watson; I've got it!" he cried. "Take your hat! Come with
+me!" He hurried at his top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street,
+until we had almost reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there
+stands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebrities and
+beauties of the day. Holmes's eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and
+following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in Court
+dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at that
+delicately-curved nose, at the marked eyebrows, at the straight mouth, and
+the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath as I read the
+time-honoured title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had
+been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as we
+turned away from the window.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Copyright, 1904, by A. Conan Doyle, in the United States of
+America.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="The_Romance_of_the_Bronze_Duke" id="The_Romance_of_the_Bronze_Duke"></a><i>The Romance of the Bronze Duke.</i></h2>
+
+
+<p>On a green mound commanding C&aelig;sar's Plain, Aldershot, a rider and his horse
+survey the landscape. Occasionally soldiers come up and salute
+them&mdash;sometimes singly, sometimes in companies, often in battalions. But
+the salute is never returned; both rider and horse remain rigid. The sun
+sets and finds them still at their post; it rises and they have never
+stirred. The explanation is simple&mdash;this giant horse and horseman are of
+bronze; they form the greatest equestrian group in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the pair have not always been thus stationary. They have been thrice
+moved and may be moved thrice again. Perhaps in the watches of the night on
+C&aelig;sar's Plain they are thinking of their past, and of the protracted
+episode which once shook the society of the British capital to its centre,
+and in which they played the chief part. Factions raged around them ere
+they left their humble birthplace in the Harrow Road, and for a time the
+bronze enjoyed far more celebrity than its original, the Iron Duke.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 348px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p384b.jpg" width="348" height="500" alt="SOLDIERS SALUTING THE DUKE&#39;S STATUE, AS IT STANDS AT
+ALDERSHOT TO-DAY.
+
+From a Photo. By Knight, Aldershot." title="" />
+<span class="caption">SOLDIERS SALUTING THE DUKE&#39;S STATUE, AS IT STANDS AT
+ALDERSHOT TO-DAY.<br />
+
+From a Photo. By Knight, Aldershot.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The story is well worth telling, for nobody remembers it now. Seventy years
+ago, although England had then no sculptors to speak of, there was a
+general passion for erecting statues. The statues were nearly all bad, of
+course, and to the decade between 1830 and 1840 the kingdom owes some of
+its worst atrocities in this department of art. About the time the late
+Queen came to the throne, a sculptor, Matthew Wyatt, was commissioned to
+execute a statue of George III. The result may be seen in Cockspur Street
+to-day. Critics complained that it was too small. The reproach greatly
+offended Wyatt, who roundly declared that he had not aimed at bigness, but
+that if size had been in question he was quite capable of modelling a
+statue larger than any Michael Angelo or the Indian idolmakers had ever
+attempted. He mentioned this to an ardent worshipper of the Duke of
+Wellington in the City, a Common Councilman named Simpson, who had already
+raised subscriptions for one Wellington equestrian group, now in front of
+the Royal Exchange. Simpson and Wyatt talked it over, and the result was
+the formation of a committee, headed by the Duke of Rutland, and the
+raising of fourteen thousand pounds for the erection of a memorial to the
+Duke in the West-end. This body duly handed the commission over to Wyatt as
+"in every respect eminently qualified to be entrusted with the proposed
+equestrian statue."</p>
+
+<p>On this point it was plain that there were two opinions prevalent. Wyatt
+now prepared to realize his boast, and boldly announced that the equestrian
+statue should be of Titanic proportions. As to the site of his handiwork
+thereby hangs a tale. Wyatt had a friend with whom he had quarrelled, named
+Decimus Burton. This Burton, an architect, had recently erected a mighty
+triumphal arch at the entrance to Green Park. It formed a great feature in
+the magnificent plan submitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> to Parliament in 1827 for the
+"re-edification" of Buckingham Palace. In this costly design the above arch
+was to form the Royal entrance to the palace gardens, to be laid out to
+suit the rather luxurious taste of George IV.</p>
+
+<p>The arch was eighty feet high. Burton's original idea was to embellish the
+main piers with groups of trophies; to place the figure of a warrior on
+each stylobate; to enrich the base with a sculptural representation of an
+ancient triumph; to place a statue over each column; and various other
+embellishments. But all this ambitious plan was instantly shortened by
+Wyatt's declaring his intention of placing his colossal statue not in the
+middle of Hyde Park, or even of Green Park, or Kensington Gardens, but on
+the very summit of Burton's arch!</p>
+
+<p>The unfortunate architect was beside himself with rage at the suggestion.
+He protested, but he protested in vain. The complaisant committee had quite
+fallen in with Wyatt's idea. But it was not so the Government, the Royal
+Academy, and the Press. They heaped ridicule upon both the project and the
+sculptor. They roundly declared that it would ruin the unity and symmetry
+of his building. Then began an acrimonious discussion between the friends
+of Wyatt and the objectors to his proposed statue. All London divided
+itself into factions. The common topic of drawing room and dinner
+conversation was, "Are you for or against putting a gigantic Iron Duke on
+the top of the arch?" "Brazen impudence!" wrote Thackeray, himself an
+artist.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, in the studio in the Harrow Road, opposite the Dudley Arms
+Tavern, the lucky sculptor had been proceeding with his task. He prepared
+several models and designs, and the sub-committee availed themselves of a
+model of the Hyde Park Corner arch to consider, which they did with the
+greatest attention, the position and relative size of the statue to be
+placed on the summit. Wyatt then prepared a drawing of the arch with the
+equestrian statue, of which the sub-committee approved.</p>
+
+<p>But at this point the Lords of the Treasury stepped in with an injunction.
+As the modelling and casting went on the battle raged. Macaulay wrote from
+India that the sculptor and his friends "ought to be in Bedlam"; his
+antagonist, Croker, inquired blandly "what a Whig Dissenter knew of high
+art." "High" art then became a joke. To the query, "What is the very
+<i>highest</i> form of art?" the jocular answer was, "Wyatt's Duke." The
+newspapers between 1840 and 1846 contain innumerable references to and
+descriptions of the statue, and the progress it was making towards
+completion.</p>
+
+<p>We are told that the plaster of Paris used in the stupendous work
+considerably exceeded one hundred tons; it was formed upon a turn-plate, or
+revolving platform, upwards of twenty feet across, travelling upon forty
+rollers and weighing in itself several tons. The vastness of the model
+required certain precautions to ensure its integrity. To give strength to
+the body of the horse, a beam passed through it longitudinally, like a
+backbone from which spring traverse timbers, like the ribs of a ship. From
+the body of the horse was a line of iron bolts, beneath which, in the early
+stage of the modelling, were placed props for security in shifting the
+figure by means of the platform, so as to obtain the most desirable
+position for light, etc. To reach the different parts of the statue a
+travelling stage with a shifting floor was constructed, so that it might be
+adjusted to any height.</p>
+
+<p>The entire group represented the Duke of Wellington as he appeared on the
+field of Waterloo upon his favourite horse, Copenhagen. The Duke&mdash;at least
+so Wyatt declared, although this was denied&mdash;sat to the sculptor for the
+portrait, the warrior wearing his customary short cloak, which the artist
+draped so as to give it something of the grace of classic costume. But the
+sculptor's intentions generally surpassed his execution.</p>
+
+<p>For melting the sixty tons of bronze Wyatt erected two great furnaces. The
+first employed was capable of melting only twelve tons at a time, whereas
+it was found desirable to cast the remainder of the statue in larger and
+consequently fewer pieces. A record furnace was therefore built capable of
+melting twenty tons at a time.</p>
+
+<p>The mould and core being placed in the pit in the foundry, the bronze was
+run into it from the furnace, and the body of the horse and the lower
+portion of the rider were thus cast in two parts of about twenty tons each.
+These were magnificent castings, and the effect of so large a surface of
+molten compound as the twenty tons presented is described as very
+extraordinary. The statue, or rather group, was thus cast in about eight
+pieces. In each case the mould was placed in the pit embedded in sand,
+rammed in as tightly as possible; yet in casting the front of the horse, by
+some means six tons of metal escaped through the mould, the chest of the
+horse was left vacant, and the casting was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> consequently spoiled. In order
+that the legs of the horse should be capable of carrying the great weight
+they would have to sustain it was found necessary to cast them solid. The
+other portions of the work vary from one to three inches in thickness, with
+strong ribs internally to give additional strength. Its height approaches
+thirty feet, and such is the bulk of the horse that eight persons once
+dined within one-half of it.</p>
+
+<p>The following are some of the main dimensions:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Ft.</td><td align='right'> in.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Girth round the horse</td><td align='right'>22</td><td align='right'>8</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ditto arm of</td><td align='right'>5</td><td align='right'>4</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From the horse's hocks to the ground</td><td align='right'>6</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>From the horse's nose to the tail</td><td align='right'>26</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Length of head</td><td align='right'>6</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Length of each ear</td><td align='right'>2</td><td align='right'>4</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p>The group being cast in pieces as above, they were joined partly by
+screw-bolts two inches in thickness. Owing to the colossal size of the
+group there were, for some time, upwards of thirty men employed at once
+upon the bronze; and in case of any work being requisite to be done within
+the figure of the rider, the head was removed to allow the workmen to
+descend through the neck. The cleansing, chasing, and finishing occupied a
+considerable time.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p386.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="THE STATUE AT MR. WYATT&#39;S FOUNDRY.
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE STATUE AT MR. WYATT&#39;S FOUNDRY.<br />
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>At last, after being repeatedly canvassed in Parliament and in the country
+for six years, provoking a greater degree of heat than perhaps any statue
+in the world had ever provoked before, the business was supposed to be
+temporarily settled by the authorities agreeing to allow the statue to be
+placed on the arch "on three weeks' probation," when, "if the location
+proved to be injudicious," it was to be removed. Whereat there was great
+joy at the sculptor's studio in the Harrow Road. The Duke of Rutland jumped
+into his carriage and flew thither himself to bear the glad tidings.</p>
+
+<p>"Once it's up," he is said to have cried, "the devil himself can't pull it
+down!"</p>
+
+<p>When the gigantic horse and rider was all but finished it was hoisted out
+of the pit in the foundry and placed upon an enormous car, built especially
+for the purpose at Woolwich Dockyard. The roof of the foundry had first to
+be removed and one of the walls completely demolished to allow of the entry
+of the car, which weighed no less than twenty tons. Its wheels were twenty
+feet in diameter, with radiating cast-iron spokes, and were surmounted by a
+platform within which the statue was slung. The feet of the horse rested
+upon ledges, so close to the ground as to preclude any possibility of
+danger from a fall. As it stood thus it was visited during three weeks by
+many hundreds of persons, including most of the celebrities of the day,
+such as Lytton, Disraeli, and Dickens.</p>
+
+<p>Outside every day saw a vast concourse of people watching the movements of
+the workmen. On the 28th September, at dusk, by means of chain windlasses,
+ropes, pulleys,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> inclined planes, plank tramways, etc., the biggest
+carriage in the world and the largest statue were moved in proximity to the
+gate, in readiness for the event of the next day.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p387a.jpg" width="500" height="322" alt="From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot; THE GRAND PROCESSION
+OF THE STATUE&mdash;TURNING FROM PARK LANE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;<br /> THE GRAND PROCESSION
+OF THE STATUE&mdash;TURNING FROM PARK LANE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>All London was agog on September 29th, 1846. As it was understood by the
+public that the removal would take place as early as ten o'clock, long
+before that hour the Harrow Road and the streets adjoining were thronged
+with well-dressed people. Seats were erected in various places, for which
+shillings and half-crowns were cheerfully paid. Even the roofs and windows
+in the neighbourhood of Mr. Wyatt's foundry were crowded with anxious
+spectators. The whole line of route from the Harrow Road to Piccadilly,
+was, indeed, one scene of excitement, the windows being mostly filled with
+company and presenting a scene of much gaiety and animation. Paddington
+Green was filled, and Hyde Park was crowded towards the Drive and principal
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>The procession included a large number of troops&mdash;Life Guards, Fusiliers,
+Grenadiers, Coldstreams, together with no fewer than four bands. In brief,
+the worshippers of the Duke omitted nothing to make the occasion a triumph.
+Besides, the weather was superb.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p387b.jpg" width="500" height="329" alt="&quot;PUNCH&#39;S&quot; SKIT ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of &quot;Punch.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;PUNCH&#39;S&quot; SKIT ON THE PROCESSION.<br />
+
+Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of &quot;Punch.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The miserable pageant prophesied by <i>Punch</i> in Leech's amusing drawing was
+nothing like the reality. Leech afterwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> drew a mirth-provoking picture
+of the effect of the statue's passing down Edgware Road upon a gentleman
+shaving in the seclusion of an upper window, which we here reproduce.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p388a.jpg" width="368" height="450" alt="AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN, WHILST SHAVING, IN THE
+EDGWARE ROAD&mdash;ANOTHER &quot;PUNCH&quot; JOKE ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of &quot;Punch.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN, WHILST SHAVING, IN THE
+EDGWARE ROAD&mdash;ANOTHER &quot;PUNCH&quot; JOKE ON THE PROCESSION.<br />
+
+Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of &quot;Punch.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Arrived at the arch, where Royal Princes, dukes, earls, and innumerable
+peeresses were assembled, it was found too late that day to hoist the
+mighty bronze to its resting-place. In fact, the ceremony took three days
+before it was concluded.</p>
+
+<p>While all this was happening, on the first and last days the happy
+sculptor, Wyatt, was holding high revel at his studio, his friends
+partaking of a banquet at his expense.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody dreamed of trouble. "Once up&mdash;the statue is safe," was the
+watchword. But the Royal Academy and the Office of Woods and Forests had
+resolved that the fate of this huge "solecism" was sealed. It had taken six
+years to set up; it should come down in three weeks! By October 1st, 1846,
+the sixty tons had been hoisted to the top of the one hundred and fifteen
+foot scaffold and placed in position by the sculptor himself. A few days
+later the fatal message arrived: "The Government decides that your statue
+must come down within three weeks." No wonder the sculptor and his friends
+were panic-stricken. How were they to be saved? There was only one way&mdash;by
+intercession to the Duke to save his bronze counterfeit.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 324px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p388b.jpg" width="324" height="500" alt="HOISTING THE STATUE TO THE TOP OF THE ARCH.
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOISTING THE STATUE TO THE TOP OF THE ARCH.<br />
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We have not space to tell the full story; the Iron Duke spake the word and
+the Government dared not deny him his request.</p>
+
+<p>For nearly thirty-seven years the great statue remained on the summit of
+the triumphal arch opposite Apsley House. But never during a moment of that
+time was it unassailed by hostile criticism. Foreigners were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> said to point
+at it with scorn. Albert Smith declared that saturnine men came to laugh at
+it "who had never laughed before." But it was not so much that it was a
+badly-modelled statue as that it had given rise to prejudices and
+antagonisms which long survived both Duke and sculptor. So it happened that
+in 1883, when alterations were projected in the locality, the Duke at last
+was made to descend from his eminence. It was a tremendous piece of
+work&mdash;both the Duke and Copenhagen had to be decapitated and otherwise
+mutilated&mdash;but the gradual descent was accomplished, witnessed by vast
+multitudes. Wyatt's enemies had triumphed.</p>
+
+<p>The question arose as to where the statue should be placed. "In the
+furnace," said many zealous brother sculptors. Ruskin boldly counselled its
+destruction. But it was decided that a good place for it would be in St.
+James's Park, opposite the Horse Guards' Parade. The removal thither to
+this obscure spot was accordingly begun. But the old antagonism apparently
+revived. The Horse Guards complained; the Duke of Cambridge thought it an
+eyesore. Lord Randolph Churchill, whose way between Westminster and St.
+James's led through the park, said he was "driven to frequent Whitehall,"
+and predicted that the big bronze Duke would bring about the fall of the
+Government. Sir Frederick Leighton, P.R.A., and Lord Hardinge defended the
+new position, but the former was asked: "How would you like sixty tons of
+bad bronze opposite the Royal Academy?"</p>
+
+<p>This time the old Duke of Wellington&mdash;thirty years in his grave&mdash;could give
+no sign. Rider and man waited immobile for further orders.
+"Forward&mdash;march!" finally, in 1885, came the command from head-quarters,
+and slowly, with difficulty, and with Copenhagen with his legs in the air,
+the new journey of forty miles began.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the story of a statue. Where will it end? Two or three years ago a
+distinguished general, whose wife is also a distinguished painter of
+soldiers and horses, remarked cruelly that "Aldershot would be delightful
+if it wasn't for that&mdash;ogre."</p>
+
+<p>And as he spoke, from force of habit he grimly raised two fingers to his
+temple, saluting the insulted Field-Marshal whose mighty shadow now darkens
+C&aelig;sar's Plain.</p>
+
+<p>Where will it end?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p389.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="THE STATUE IN THE POSITION WHICH RAISED SUCH A STORM OF
+OPPOSITION.
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE STATUE IN THE POSITION WHICH RAISED SUCH A STORM OF
+OPPOSITION.<br />
+
+From the &quot;Illustrated London News.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Two_and_a_Tiger" id="Two_and_a_Tiger"></a><i>Two and a Tiger.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By R. E. Vern&egrave;de.</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Nare had enjoyed himself at the picnic until the baronet arrived, in spite
+of being rather an outsider among these local people, who all knew one
+another from the cradle. He had enjoyed himself in spite, too, of Mrs.
+Corcoran, who by many signs and cool politenesses had shown him that her
+daughter Judith had no need and&mdash;as she hinted very plainly&mdash;no inclination
+for his attentions. "Dear Sir Henry will be arriving soon, surely?" Mrs.
+Corcoran had said in his presence to their hostess, and little Mrs.
+Harrington, who had been very kind to Nare in that capacity, replied that
+of course Sir Henry would be arriving soon, but that in the meantime the
+rector (a mild man with a capacity for being held in awe) was very anxious
+to consult Mrs. Corcoran on the subject of an altar-cloth. Mrs. Corcoran
+was unable to resist the invitation. Whether the rector was as grateful for
+Sir Henry Pove's arrival as Nare was ungrateful, nobody can say, but there
+is no denying that the rector looked a little browbeaten by that time.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet came on a tricycle, looking reedy in his light suit, but very
+dignified.</p>
+
+<p>"I have accomplished the distance from Wetherwell in one hour and a
+quarter," he announced, "which I think is very fair&mdash;very fair."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful," said Mrs. Corcoran, frowning at her silent daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Incredible," Nare suggested. "It must be eight miles."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it incumbent upon me to ride pretty fast," continued Sir Henry,
+"because a rather alarming thing has occurred."</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of "Ohs!" wavered about the gratified tricyclist.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p390.jpg" width="450" height="377" alt="&quot;A RATHER ALARMING THING HAS OCCURRED.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A RATHER ALARMING THING HAS OCCURRED.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Mrs. Corcoran.</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't tell!" cried Mrs. Harrington; "not if it's horrid. I won't have
+my picnic spoilt. Be a gem, now!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear madam"&mdash;Sir Henry's look was a rebuke to all trifling&mdash;"I
+dare not take it upon myself to leave you all in suspense about a matter
+which cannot in any event be lightly treated. When I say that a travelling
+menagerie at Sutley has lost one of its wild beasts early this morning, and
+that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> up to the time I started from Wetherwell no news of its recapture had
+come to hand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused for an effect, and several ladies said: "Good heavens!" Mrs.
+Corcoran added:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And you rode over the moor alone?"</p>
+
+<p>A pleased smile was her reward.</p>
+
+<p>"I could do no less&mdash;yes&mdash;some say a puma; others a bear." Sir Henry
+rapidly answered a string of questions.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was a llama," suggested Miss Corcoran.</p>
+
+<p>"Judith!"</p>
+
+<p>"They're very dangerous, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"But in any case I'm very much annoyed," Mrs. Harrington announced. "Now
+everybody will want to go home, I suppose, though really Sutley is fourteen
+miles away, and&mdash;well, at any rate, we've all had something to eat. Sir
+Henry, come and be rewarded with lobster before we start."</p>
+
+<p>I think it must have been because Mrs. Harrington thought she owed her
+annoyance as much to the baronet's alarmist importunity as to the
+carelessness of the menagerie owners that she dealt so kindly with Nare
+afterwards. For it was settled that the picnickers should disband almost
+immediately instead of going home by moonlight&mdash;as Mrs. Harrington had
+desired&mdash;and in the bustle that ensued, while the rector was heading a
+search-party, organized by Mrs. Corcoran, to recover a shawl she was
+positive she had brought with her, and the baronet was being regaled on all
+the choicest delicacies that could be set out on cabbage-leaves by the more
+insatiably curious ladies, Mrs. Harrington drew Nare and Miss Corcoran
+aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Judith," she said, "we shall all be starting soon, but I want you to
+be kind and show Mr. Nare the Mill on the way back."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but&mdash;&mdash;" Judith began.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall catch you up in quite a short time, and Mr. Nare will protect you
+against the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Llama," said Nare.</p>
+
+<p>"Elephant or whatever it is," said Mrs. Harrington, smiling. "I'm quite
+sure he will. And you'll be doing me a favour. I've promised Mr. Nare
+should see the Mill, and I'll explain to your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Judith. "Perhaps we ought to start at once, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Harrington.</p>
+
+<p>That is why, when, some time later, Sir Henry having replenished himself
+and found all preparations made for going homeward, and having begun to
+wonder where Miss Corcoran, whom he had hoped to escort, had vanished to,
+Nare found himself on the moor with that young lady just drawing near to
+the Mill, the sight of which he had been promised. It was just after
+sundown then, pleasantly cool and hazy, with nothing but a noise of stray
+bees to disturb the silence. Miss Corcoran had had her parasol furled for
+several minutes, so that Nare, who was slightly behind with the picnic
+basket which Mrs. Harrington had thrust upon him "in case Judith should
+want a sandwich on the way, Mr. Nare"&mdash;commanded an uninterrupted and
+delightful view of the curls on her neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Perfect," he said, and she, fancying he referred to the weather, perhaps,
+agreed.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p391.jpg" width="418" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;I DON&#39;T THINK YOU&#39;RE WALKING VERY FAST, MR. NARE,&#39; SHE
+SAID.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;I DON&#39;T THINK YOU&#39;RE WALKING VERY FAST, MR. NARE,&#39; SHE
+SAID.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"But I don't think you're walking very fast, Mr. Nare," she said, severely.
+"And when I promised Mrs. Harrington to show you the Mill, I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> think
+you'd walk a little quicker, even though you are a Londoner."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be unkind," said Nare. "Recollect that your foot is on your native
+heath, while mine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But we shall miss the others."</p>
+
+<p>"We started first."</p>
+
+<p>"Not more than half an hour, and we've come right off the road on to the
+moor and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it's such a jolly afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Evening."</p>
+
+<p>"And it would be a sin to stampede over these attractive buttercups," Nare
+pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corcoran relented with a little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, you are Cockneyer than I thought. Buttercups! It's gorse."</p>
+
+<p>"Same kind of yellow," said Nare.</p>
+
+<p>"And there's the Mill. Now we must hurry."</p>
+
+<p>Woman, it has been said, disposes, but that depends on circumstances. Nare
+had no desire to hurry, but hurried he certainly would have been if it were
+not for the episode that occurred at that moment. Afterwards he was
+grateful for it, but for the time being he would even have preferred
+hurrying. For, just as he was taking a last look at the Mill, something
+shadowy, but alive, came stalking slowly away from it towards them.</p>
+
+<p>Involuntarily Nare whistled. In the hazy twilight it was not easy to
+distinguish shapes exactly, and the desolate moorland with the black bare
+Mill frowning in its midst, only a single skeleton sail left to show for
+what purpose it had been built centuries ago, and the utter silence, except
+for the homing bees, no doubt tended to ghostly thoughts. But either Nare
+was dreaming or&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever is that?" cried Miss Corcoran, suddenly catching sight of it. She
+put a startled hand on his arm, and Nare regained his cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>"This Cockney suggests that it's a cow&mdash;a stray cow."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Probably an Alderney," Nare pursued, "with pink eyes and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The creature was making towards them on the circumference of a circle, and
+as Nare talked he walked slowly towards the Mill. There must be some kind
+of shelter there.</p>
+
+<p>"And crumpled horns," Nare continued.</p>
+
+<p>"But this isn't our way, Mr. Nare."</p>
+
+<p>The girl spoke in a protesting tone, but without giving any sign of a
+desire to stop. Indeed, she went rather faster and did not look behind her.
+The Alderney was a little behind them now.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think we ought to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"G-r-r-r-r!" A noise, thunderous and snarling, interrupted her in the
+middle of a sentence. Nare was looking back.</p>
+
+<p>"How horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it wants to be milked"&mdash;Nare spoke without turning his head&mdash;"or
+it's hungry. I think you'd better go into the Mill, please."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p392.jpg" width="500" height="373" alt="&quot;MISS CORCORAN GATHERED UP HER SKIRTS AND RAN.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MISS CORCORAN GATHERED UP HER SKIRTS AND RAN.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>And with that Miss Corcoran gathered up her skirts and ran. Nare followed
+with one eye on the enemy in the rear. The beast had stopped in its
+circling and was glaring after them.</p>
+
+<p>"As fast as you can!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl heard Nare talking to her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> felt in a dream. A second growl
+rose and seemed to shake the rotten timbers of the Mill as she ran into it.</p>
+
+<p>"Up the ladder!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a nine-foot ladder, shaky, with rat-gnawed rungs, leading through
+a trap on to the first floor of the Mill from the ground. And Miss Corcoran
+went up it swiftly, with gratitude in her heart to the rats for not having
+gnawed it through, since there was no door to the Mill wherewith to bolt
+out undesirable company. The Mill seemed to be echoing still with that
+growl as she turned at the top and, kneeling, found Nare ascending after
+her through the narrow hole. She said nothing until he had got up and tried
+to unfix the ladder without success. Then, as he desisted:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Nare," she said, "was it a&mdash;a&mdash;tiger?"</p>
+
+<p>Nare put down his picnic basket with an injured air.</p>
+
+<p>"If it wasn't," he said, "I don't know what it was. But I'm beginning to
+think you're right, and that I don't know the country. I certainly thought
+tigers were extinct. If they're not, I don't think it's fair to ask an
+unfortunate Londoner out into the wilds and arm him with nothing better
+than a picnic basket."</p>
+
+<p>He rattled on to give the girl time to recover herself. He was a little
+afraid of hysterics, which would have been pardonable but unavailing. She
+seemed to suspect his fear, for she mustered a smile and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I'm going to be foolish. Tell me, please, what do you think
+we ought to do?"</p>
+
+<p>That was exactly what Nare did not know. Looking down through the trap, he
+was conscious of a pair of fierce yellow eyes glaring up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal depends on the tiger," he said. "As this is one from a
+menagerie it may know how to behave itself in company, but&mdash;isn't there a
+top floor to this Mill?"</p>
+
+<p>There was, and another ladder leading to it. And Miss Corcoran, followed by
+Nare, reached it in less time than it takes to tell. The tiger had reared
+its paws on to the lower ladder and delivered itself, of another terrific
+growl.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I didn't know they could climb," said Miss Corcoran, faintly. "Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>A scuffling noise accompanied by a groaning of wood was what they heard,
+and then a soft padding of feet in the room they had just deserted.
+Apparently this tiger could climb.</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce!" said Nare, beneath his breath. He had never in his life been
+in a more unpleasant situation&mdash;never, indeed, in anything like it. At
+first the thing had seemed like some burlesque nightmare, but now the
+burlesque was going out of it. What could one do to a tiger?</p>
+
+<p>He sat cross-legged over the trap, reflecting and listening to the pad, pad
+below. If only there were a cover to the trap, but there was none. His
+companion was looking out of a sort of small slit in the side of the Mill
+that had been made to serve the purpose of a window once, hiding her tears,
+Nare fancied. It was too narrow to get through, and in any case there would
+be a drop of twenty or thirty feet. Half unconsciously Nare began to unpack
+the picnic basket which he had carried along from room to room. He had some
+vague idea of throwing the tiger sandwiches as a sop. "Buns, cucumber
+sandwiches, a packet of salt. Do you see anything, Sister Anne?" He broke
+off enumerating the contents of the basket, seeing that Miss Corcoran had
+started.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;no&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A chocolate cake&mdash;tea&mdash;pepper&mdash;pepper&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do," Miss Corcoran suddenly burst out. "There's someone
+coming&mdash;this way. He's&mdash;he's on a&mdash;it's Sir Henry."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the presence of the tiger and the diversion likely to be caused
+by the arrival of the baronet, Nare felt a trifle jealous. If the diversion
+were caused it would be to the baronet's credit, that was certain, and he
+sat over the trap, aimlessly untying the packet marked pepper, while he
+listened to the parley that Miss Corcoran began from the slit in the Mill
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>A bicycle bell rung in a dignified manner announced the baronet's approach.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Henry!"</p>
+
+<p>Nare could hear the brake applied before the baronet's thin, piping voice
+called back:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's I&mdash;Judith Corcoran&mdash;and Mr. Nare. We're in the Mill&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>Suspicion was plain in the baronet's "Indeed!" Nare lost the next few words
+in trying to catch a sound of the padding feet below.</p>
+
+<p>"And the animal that escaped that you told us of&mdash;is here&mdash;it's a tiger!"</p>
+
+<p>An unpleasant, high-pitched laugh greeted Miss Corcoran's explanation&mdash;a
+laugh that showed Sir Henry in about as incredulous a frame of mind as a
+jealous man might be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he sniggered. "What charming company! Two&mdash;and a tiger!"</p>
+
+<p>"G-r-r-r-r!"</p>
+
+<p>Nare had just risen in a fury of indignation to throw something&mdash;anything
+that could be got through the window&mdash;at the baronet's head, when that
+tremendous growl came, followed by the creaking and groaning of wood. The
+tiger was ascending to their last retreat. In a whirling fashion Nare was
+conscious of this, and of Miss Corcoran's pale face, as he stood once more
+over the trap. From outside came a sound of frantic pedalling, as though
+Sir Henry had forgotten his scepticism and was wheeling round in order to
+be off. Otherwise the stillness was intolerable; and in the middle of it
+Nare, his fingers tearing idly at the white-papered packet in his hands,
+suddenly found himself looking into those great yellow eyes, not three feet
+away. And at that, his fingers relaxing, the packet and its contents fell
+plump into the tiger's face.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p394.jpg" width="450" height="391" alt="&quot;NARE SUDDENLY FOUND HIMSELF LOOKING INTO THOSE GREAT YELLOW
+EYES.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;NARE SUDDENLY FOUND HIMSELF LOOKING INTO THOSE GREAT YELLOW
+EYES.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"By Jove!"</p>
+
+<p>A swishing, sneezing noise, as of a score of cats under a hose, a heavy
+thud, a downward galloping, pad and patter, and the tiger was gone. It had
+found an ounce of pepper in its eyes and nostrils as unpleasant as it was
+unexpected.</p>
+
+<p>"Pepper's the thing," said Nare, devoutly, discovering a moment later that
+he was supporting Miss Corcoran in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Judith, faintly; "I'm so glad&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Of what she did not say, but irrelevancy did not seem to matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" cried Nare.</p>
+
+<p>Through the uncasemented window they could see in the fast-gathering dusk
+the long white path over the moor. It looked even whiter for the shadows
+all about, so that, visible at a distance of some quarter of a mile, was
+the bent figure of a tricyclist, all among the wheels, pedalling away for
+dear life. After him, and as if in pursuit, cantered a shadowy, four-legged
+thing, that tossed its head uneasily as it went and seemed to have no tail.</p>
+
+<p>"Tail's between its legs," said Nare. "So's Sir Henry's."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope it won't catch him," said Miss Judith, kindly, but without the
+intonation of extreme solicitude. After all, Sir Henry had a good start.
+"He is going fast," she added, critically, as he vanished over a distant
+ridge. "There goes the tiger."</p>
+
+<p>"We may as well be off too," said Nare, "before it comes back. Sir Henry by
+himself won't make much of a meal. Awfully jolly walk it's been."</p>
+
+<p>They went on, not too fast, in the opposite direction from that taken by
+the tiger.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="The_Best_Comic_Pictures" id="The_Best_Comic_Pictures"></a><i>The Best Comic Pictures.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>THE OPINION OF HUMOROUS ARTISTS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Humour is such an elusive quality, depending so much upon individual
+temperament, that it is difficult to say in what consists its absolute
+perfection. We know what makes us laugh most; but do we know what will make
+another laugh most? Yet after all this is true of every art. Why should we
+not have <i>chefs d'&oelig;vure</i> of pictorial comedy?</p>
+
+<p>Suppose any reader of <span class="smcap">The Strand Magazine</span> with a normal sense of humour
+were asked, "What is the funniest picture you remember ever to have seen?"
+Would he not ransack his memory&mdash;would he not turn to the files of <i>Punch</i>,
+to the comic almanacs, to such examples of foreign pictorial humour as had
+chanced to come in his way&mdash;and end by declaring that it was impossible to
+make any selection at all in such a wilderness of mirth-provoking designs,
+or, having hit upon one, to find it, upon re-inspection, to be no longer as
+funny as he thought it at the time&mdash;years ago?</p>
+
+<p>But in quite a different case is another small class in the community.
+These are the authors and manufacturers of humorous pictures themselves.
+They, not only from having a special gift of comedy, but from having
+presumably studied, or been interested in, the work of other draughtsmen,
+might confidently be expected to know their own minds. And so to them the
+writer addressed the question, What was the funniest picture they had ever
+seen? What had a right to be considered a masterpiece of pictorial comedy?</p>
+
+<p>At the outset the writer must not forget to mention that a few years ago,
+in a confidential chat he had with the late Mr. Phil May, he was
+pleasurably surprised to learn the high esteem in which that gifted
+humorist held one of the earliest and greatest masters of pictorial comedy,
+James Gillray.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p395b.jpg" width="500" height="314" alt="&quot;Company Shocked at a Lady Getting Up to Ring the Bell.&quot;&mdash;By
+Gillray.
+
+SELECTED BY THE LATE MR. PHIL MAY AS THE BEST COMIC PICTURE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Company Shocked at a Lady Getting Up to Ring the Bell.&quot;&mdash;By
+Gillray.<br />
+
+SELECTED BY THE LATE MR. PHIL MAY AS THE BEST COMIC PICTURE</span>
+</div><p>.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nobody to-day to touch him," were May's words. "Look at his sweep
+of line and his astonishing mastery over the grotesque and ridiculous.
+There are pictures so extraordinarily funny that you can't laugh&mdash;'too
+funny for words,' if you catch what I mean." As he spoke he turned to a
+folio containing several specimens of Gillray's drawings. One in particular
+was, if too funny for words, not too funny to be laughed at, for May's
+smile broadened enormously as he held it up for inspection&mdash;"Company
+Shocked at a Lady Getting Up to Ring the Bell." "Now, I call that funny,"
+he said, "and it was, perhaps, a hundred times funnier a hundred years ago,
+when the characters were well-known people. There's nothing 'dates' so much
+as the average comic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> picture, especially a social caricature, but the fun
+of this is pretty fresh still." On the whole, most of Gillray's and
+Rowlandson's best work is a little too highly flavoured&mdash;too broad&mdash;for the
+taste of to-day.</p>
+
+<p>Passing along a half-century we come to John Leech, and thenceforward to a
+succession of great masters of pictorial fun&mdash;Wilhelm B&uuml;sch, Charles Keene,
+Du Maurier, Sambourne, Oberlander, Caran d'Ache, Phil May, Frederick Opper,
+Zimmerman, and Raven-Hill. To these names many&mdash;fully as
+distinguished&mdash;might be added, such as Forain, Gibson, and Graetz, but for
+pure fun those we have mentioned may be called the masters. Amongst their
+numerous productions ought to be found some sketch which deserves to be
+called the very funniest picture or set of pictures delineating a single
+humorous idea. Each artist has his own followers. We have seen Phil May
+singling out a drawing by Gillray as appealing to his sense of humour. The
+draughtsmen of to-day in this line of work in England doubtless count no
+cleverer men than Raven-Hill, Tom Browne, John Hassall, Leslie Willson,
+William Parkinson, Louis Wain, and Charles Harrison.</p>
+
+<p>Wilhelm B&uuml;sch was for years the chief comic draughtsman of the celebrated
+<i>Fliegende Bl&auml;tter</i>&mdash;the German <i>Punch</i>. Not all his best work, however,
+was done for this paper, as B&uuml;sch illustrated and occasionally wrote
+numerous humorous brochures, which enjoyed a wide sale, and in his own
+opinion&mdash;according to one of his intimate friends whom we have
+consulted&mdash;he never achieved anything funnier than the pictures which
+accompanied a little book called "The Fools' Paradise," and the funniest
+drawings in that book are those which appear on this page.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 470px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p396.jpg" width="470" height="700" alt="&quot;A Pianoforte Performance.&quot;&mdash;By Wilhelm B&uuml;sch.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LINLEY SAMBOURNE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A Pianoforte Performance.&quot;&mdash;By Wilhelm B&uuml;sch.<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LINLEY SAMBOURNE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But now let us hear what Mr. Linley Sambourne has to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> say about the work of
+this artist:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"To attempt to even indicate the birthplace of the world's masterpiece of
+pictorial humour is beyond the capacity of a single individual. So very few
+can see humour with the same eyes or appreciation. What you seek has
+probably perished in past ages, together with its contemporaneous
+companions in a higher branch. To me, personally, some of the designs of
+the late Wilhelm B&uuml;sch, of Munich, seem to have more humour, if by that is
+meant fun, than anything I can remember having seen."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p397a.jpg" width="450" height="410" alt="Under Her Breath.&mdash;Mrs. Conlan: &quot;Whisht, Pat!&quot;
+
+Pat: &quot;Whisht, Dalia!&quot;
+
+Mrs. Conlan: &quot;Aise yure face. It&#39;s an upright we&#39;re havin&#39; took.&quot;
+
+From the New York &quot;Judge.&quot;
+
+SELECTED BY MR. RAVEN-HILL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Under Her Breath.&mdash;Mrs. Conlan: &quot;Whisht, Pat!&quot;<br />
+
+Pat: &quot;Whisht, Dalia!&quot;<br />
+
+Mrs. Conlan: &quot;Aise yure face. It&#39;s an upright we&#39;re havin&#39; took.&quot;<br />
+
+From the New York &quot;Judge.&quot;<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. RAVEN-HILL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Sambourne's clever colleague, Mr. Leonard Raven-Hill, finds "the very
+funniest picture" amongst the work of the American artist, Zimmerman.</p>
+
+<p>"For absolute comic humour," he writes, "no one has equalled Zimmerman, of
+the New York <i>Judge</i>, in my opinion. Charles Keene is, of course, miles
+ahead of any other man in quiet humour; but I can't think of any particular
+examples."</p>
+
+<p>Of Zimmerman's drawings Mr. Raven-Hill selects three, of which we herewith
+present what strikes us as the most comical.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p397b.jpg" width="450" height="428" alt="Wife (to lion-tamer, who has been out late): &quot;You coward!&quot;
+
+From &quot;Phil May&#39;s Annual.&quot;
+
+SELECTED BY MR. TOM BROWNE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Wife (to lion-tamer, who has been out late): &quot;You coward!&quot;<br />
+
+From &quot;Phil May&#39;s Annual.&quot;<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. TOM BROWNE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Few comic artists are at once so prolific and so amusing as Mr. Tom Browne,
+who, in selecting the picture reproduced below, writes to us as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have no hesitation in ascribing to the late Phil May some of the most
+delightful specimens of illustrated humour that have ever graced the
+British or any other Press; but to positively indicate what I consider to
+be that master's choicest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> joke or drawing is a difficult matter. Phil May
+had a very keen sense of humour; moreover, he was a master of line. He knew
+what a line would do better than any man ever did before him. He could
+seize on the essentials of a subject and adequately represent it in the
+fewest lines anyone had ever employed before. Yet nothing was lacking. And
+the lines and the forms they represented were always accurate. There was a
+lot of humour in the sketch of the lion-tamer which appeared in one of the
+winter annuals. The tamer of lions had been staying out late, and to avoid
+the furious attentions of his wrathful spouse had taken refuge in the
+lions' den. The aforesaid wrathful spouse was shaking her fist in front of
+the bars and crying out, 'You coward!'</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p398a.jpg" width="600" height="569" alt="&quot;A Hair-Raising Story.&quot;&mdash;By Caran D&#39;ache.
+
+From the Caran D&#39;ache Album, by Permission of MM. Plon Nourrit &amp; Co.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LESLIE WILLSON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A Hair-Raising Story.&quot;&mdash;By Caran D&#39;ache.<br />
+
+From the Caran D&#39;ache Album, by Permission of MM. Plon Nourrit &amp; Co.<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LESLIE WILLSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Quite a little masterpiece in its way was the sketch of the very tipsy
+newsman, who had the contents-bill of the special edition he was selling
+stuck on a sandwich board that covered his chest. In large letters on the
+contents-bill was printed, 'Result of the Cup.'</p>
+
+<p>"And there are others, scores of them, all good because they were Phil
+May's. In cold type they sound nothing. Phil May's pen made masterpieces of
+them all."</p>
+
+<p>An English black-and-white draughtsman, with an almost unique experience of
+pictorial comedy in Germany, America, and this country, is Mr. Leslie
+Willson, for years one of the chief artists of the New York <i>Judge</i>, and
+latterly art editor of <i>Pick-Me-Up</i>. Mr. Willson, with his wide experience
+of comic achievements, says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The very funniest pictures I ever saw were by that astonishingly clever
+Franco-Russian, Emmanuel Poir&eacute;, otherwise 'Caran d'Ache.' The particular
+set I have in mind depicted a scene in a barber's shop, where the
+customer's hair, standing on end from horror, defies all the barber's
+attempts to curl it. There are other funny things from Caran d'Ache's
+pencil, but this, I think, is the funniest." These are the drawings
+reproduced on the opposite page.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p399a.jpg" width="314" height="500" alt="Parrot: &quot;Here he comes again. If he pulls another feather out I&#39;ll fly
+away!&quot;
+
+By H. Grattan in the &quot;Pelican.&quot;
+
+SELECTED BY MR. JOHN HASSALL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">Parrot: &quot;Here he comes again. If he pulls another feather out I&#39;ll fly
+away!&quot;<br />
+
+By H. Grattan in the &quot;Pelican.&quot;<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. JOHN HASSALL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. John Hassall, whose work is familiar to all, writes to say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The most humorous drawing I have ever seen was in the Christmas number of
+the <i>Pelican</i>, some few years back, of a parrot with one feather sticking
+out of its tail&mdash;the rest bare&mdash;sitting on its perch, and a pot-boy in the
+background. Below was the inscription: 'Here he comes again. If he pulls
+another feather out I'll fly away!' It was by an actor, I fancy. For the
+most humorous artist I should plump for Zim. Zimmerman, who draws for New
+York <i>Judge</i>. About ten years ago his work was, to my mind, always
+exceedingly humorous."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p399b.jpg" width="450" height="387" alt="&quot;An Incident in the Middle Ages.&quot;&mdash;By Linley Sambourne in &quot;Punch.&quot;
+
+SELECTED BY MR. WILLIAM PARKINSON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;An Incident in the Middle Ages.&quot;&mdash;By Linley Sambourne in &quot;Punch.&quot;
+
+<br />SELECTED BY MR. WILLIAM PARKINSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>A draughtsman with a keen sense of humour is Mr. William Parkinson. He
+writes:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"For real funniness, I think A. B. Frost, the American, is very hard to
+beat; especially in some of his picture-stories in the last pages of
+<i>Scribner</i> or the <i>Century</i>. I should call his book of drawings, 'The
+Good-Natured Man and the Bull Calf,' a masterpiece of humour. Linley
+Sambourne also is a master and an artist too, and some of his drawings for
+<i>Punch's</i> Almanacks are real masterpieces. 'An Incident in the Middle
+Ages,' where a poor knight in armour is tormented under his mail shirt by a
+persistent&mdash;&mdash;Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> the fancy is tickled as much as was the poor knight."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p400a.jpg" width="650" height="310" alt="An ensign who thought he would wake up another ensign for a
+lark&mdash;But he mistook the tent.
+
+From the &quot;Graphic.&quot;&mdash;By A. C. Corbould.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LOUIS WAIN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">An ensign who thought he would wake up another ensign for a
+lark&mdash;But he mistook the tent.<br />
+
+From the &quot;Graphic.&quot;&mdash;By A. C. Corbould.<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LOUIS WAIN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>There are not many pictorial comedians with a larger following than Mr.
+Louis Wain, who tells us:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I like one of Corbould's drawings best which appeared in the <i>Graphic</i> of
+some eighteen years back. A subaltern with a broom over his head was
+hitting out at a military tent with it where there appeared to be a
+protuberance. A second picture showed a fat general sitting up in bed
+rubbing his head and looking furiously mad. (He had had the broom on it.)
+This drawing has kept me happy through many a gloomy period, and set my own
+work going again."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p400b.jpg" width="450" height="511" alt="The Moustache Movement.&mdash;Old Mr. What&#39;s-His-Name: &quot;Egad, I
+don&#39;t wonder at moustaches coming into fashion; for&mdash;eh? What? By Jove, it
+does improve one&#39;s appearance.&quot;
+
+By John Leech in &quot;Punch&#39;s Almanack,&quot; 1857.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. CHARLES HARRISON." title="" />
+<span class="caption">The Moustache Movement.&mdash;Old Mr. What&#39;s-His-Name: &quot;Egad, I
+don&#39;t wonder at moustaches coming into fashion; for&mdash;eh? What? By Jove, it
+does improve one&#39;s appearance.&quot;<br />
+
+By John Leech in &quot;Punch&#39;s Almanack,&quot; 1857.<br />
+
+SELECTED BY MR. CHARLES HARRISON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"With a pretty extensive knowledge of all the Continental and American
+artists," writes Mr. Charles Harrison, one of the regular contributors to
+<i>Punch</i>, "I think I have derived more amusement from John Leech than anyone
+else. In certain things he is, and so will ever remain, absolutely
+unapproachable, and I enclose what I consider one of his funniest efforts.
+At least, there is no effort in it, which is one of the charms in all
+Leech's work."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="The_Country_of_the_Blind" id="The_Country_of_the_Blind"></a><i>The Country of the Blind.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By H. G. Wells.</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Three hundred miles and more from Chimborazo, one hundred from the snows of
+Cotopaxi, in the wildest wastes of Ecuador's Andes, there lies that
+mysterious mountain valley, cut off from all the world of men, the Country
+of the Blind. Long years ago that valley lay so far open to the world that
+men might come at last through frightful gorges and over an icy pass into
+its equable meadows, and thither indeed men came, a family or so of
+Peruvian half-breeds fleeing from the lust and tyranny of an evil Spanish
+ruler. Then came the stupendous outbreak of Mindobamba, when it was night
+in Quito for seventeen days, and the water was boiling at Yaguachi and all
+the fish floating dying even as far as Guayaquil; everywhere along the
+Pacific slopes there were landslips and swift thawings and sudden floods,
+and one whole side of the old Arauca crest slipped and came down in
+thunder, and cut off the Country of the Blind for ever from the exploring
+feet of men. But one of these early settlers had chanced to be on the
+hither side of the gorges when the world had so terribly shaken itself, and
+he perforce had to forget his wife and his child and all the friends and
+possessions he had left up there, and start life over again in the lower
+world. He started it again but ill, blindness overtook him, and he died of
+punishment in the mines; but the story he told begot a legend that lingers
+along the length of the Cordilleras of the Andes to this day.</p>
+
+<p>He told of his reason for venturing back from that fastness, into which he
+had first been carried lashed to a llama, beside a vast bale of gear, when
+he was a child. The valley, he said, had in it all that the heart of man
+could desire&mdash;sweet water, pasture, an even climate, slopes of rich brown
+soil with tangles of a shrub that bore an excellent fruit, and on one side
+great hanging forests of pine that held the avalanches high. Far overhead,
+on three sides, vast cliffs of grey-green rock were capped by cliffs of
+ice; but the glacier stream came not to them, but flowed away by the
+farther slopes, and only now and then huge ice masses fell on the valley
+side. In this valley it neither rained nor snowed, but the abundant springs
+gave a rich green pasture, that irrigation would spread over all the valley
+space. The settlers did well indeed there. Their beasts did well and
+multiplied, and but one thing marred their happiness. Yet it was enough to
+mar it greatly. A strange disease had come upon them and had made all the
+children born to them there&mdash;and, indeed, several older children
+also&mdash;blind. It was to seek some charm or antidote against this plague of
+blindness that he had with fatigue and danger and difficulty returned down
+the gorge. In those days, in such cases, men did not think of germs and
+infections, but of sins, and it seemed to him that the reason of this
+affliction must lie in the negligence of these priestless immigrants to set
+up a shrine so soon as they entered the valley. He wanted a shrine&mdash;a
+handsome, cheap, effectual shrine&mdash;to be erected in the valley; he wanted
+relics and such-like potent things of faith, blessed objects and mysterious
+medals and prayers. In his wallet he had a bar of native silver for which
+he would not account; he insisted there was none in the valley with
+something of the insistence of an inexpert liar. They had all clubbed their
+money and ornaments together, having little need for such treasure up
+there, he said, to buy them holy help against their ill. I figure this
+dim-eyed young mountaineer, sunburnt, gaunt, and anxious, hat brim clutched
+feverishly, a man all unused to the ways of the lower world, telling this
+story to some keen-eyed, attentive priest before the great convulsion; I
+can picture him presently seeking to return with pious and infallible
+remedies against that trouble, and the infinite dismay with which he must
+have faced the tumbled vastness where the gorge had once come out. But the
+rest of his story of mischances is lost to me, save that I know of his evil
+death after several years. Poor stray from that remoteness! The stream that
+had once made the gorge now bursts from the mouth of a rocky cave, and the
+legend his poor, ill-told story set going developed into the legend of a
+race of blind men somewhere "over there" one may still hear to-day.</p>
+
+<p>And amidst the little population of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> now isolated and forgotten valley
+the disease ran its course. The old became groping and purblind, the young
+saw but dimly, and the children that were born to them saw never at all.
+But life was very easy in that snow-rimmed basin, lost to all the world,
+with neither thorns nor briers, with no evil insects nor any beasts save
+the gentle breed of llamas they had lugged and thrust and followed up the
+beds of the shrunken rivers in the gorges up which they had come. The
+seeing had become purblind so gradually that they scarcely noted their
+loss. They guided the sightless youngsters hither and thither until they
+knew the whole valley marvellously, and when at last sight died out among
+them the race lived on. They had even time to adapt themselves to the blind
+control of fire, which they made carefully in stoves of stone. They were a
+simple strain of people at the first, unlettered, only slightly touched
+with the Spanish civilization, but with something of a tradition of the
+arts of old Peru and of its lost philosophy. Generation followed
+generation. They forgot many things; they devised many things. Their
+tradition of the greater world they came from became mythical in colour and
+uncertain. In all things save sight they were strong and able, and
+presently chance sent one who had an original mind and who could talk and
+persuade among them, and then afterwards another. These two passed, leaving
+their effects, and the little community grew in numbers and in
+understanding, and met and settled social and economic problems that arose.
+Generation followed generation. Generation followed generation. There came
+a time when a child was born who was fifteen generations from that ancestor
+who went out of the valley with a bar of silver to seek God's aid, and who
+never returned. Thereabout it chanced that a man came into this community
+from the outer world. And this is the story of that man.</p>
+
+<p>He was a mountaineer from the country near Quito, a man who had been down
+to the sea and had seen the world, a reader of books in an original way, an
+acute and enterprising man, and he was taken on by a party of Englishmen
+who had come out to Ecuador to climb mountains, to replace one of their
+three Swiss guides who had fallen ill. He climbed here and he climbed
+there, and then came the attempt on Parascotopetl, the Matterhorn of the
+Andes, in which he was lost to the outer world. The story of that accident
+has been written a dozen times. Pointer's narrative is the best. He tells
+how the little party worked their difficult and almost vertical way up to
+the very foot of the last and greatest precipice, and how they built a
+night shelter amidst the snow upon a little shelf of rock, and, with a
+touch of real dramatic power, how presently they found Nu&ntilde;ez had gone from
+them. They shouted, and there was no reply; shouted and whistled, and for
+the rest of that night they slept no more.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 323px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p402.jpg" width="323" height="500" alt="&quot;THEY FOUND NU&Ntilde;EZ HAD GONE FROM THEM.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THEY FOUND NU&Ntilde;EZ HAD GONE FROM THEM.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>As the morning broke they saw the traces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> of his fall. It seems impossible
+he could have uttered a sound. He had slipped eastward towards the unknown
+side of the mountain; far below he had struck a steep slope of snow, and
+ploughed his way down it in the midst of a snow avalanche. His track went
+straight to the edge of a frightful precipice, and beyond that everything
+was hidden. Far, far below, and hazy with distance, they could see trees
+rising out of a narrow, shut-in valley&mdash;the lost Country of the Blind. But
+they did not know it was the lost Country of the Blind, nor distinguish it
+in any way from any other narrow streak of upland valley. Unnerved by this
+disaster, they abandoned their attempt in the afternoon, and Pointer was
+called away to the war before he could make another attack. To this day
+Parascotopetl lifts an unconquered crest, and Pointer's shelter crumbles
+unvisited amidst the snows.</p>
+
+<p>And the man who fell survived.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the slope he fell a thousand feet, and came down in the midst
+of a cloud of snow upon a snow-slope even steeper than the one above. Down
+this he was whirled, stunned and insensible, but without a bone broken in
+his body; and then at last came to gentler slopes, and at last rolled out
+and lay still, buried amidst a softening heap of the white masses that had
+accompanied and saved him. He came to himself with a dim fancy that he was
+ill in bed; then realized his position with a mountaineer's intelligence
+and worked himself loose and, after a rest or so, out until he saw the
+stars. He rested flat upon his chest for a space, wondering where he was
+and what had happened to him. He explored his limbs, and discovered that
+several of his buttons were gone and his coat turned over his head. His
+knife had gone from his pocket and his hat was lost, though he had tied it
+under his chin. He recalled that he had been looking for loose stones to
+raise his piece of the shelter wall. His ice-axe had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>He decided he must have fallen, and looked up to see, exaggerated by the
+ghastly light of the rising moon, the tremendous flight he had taken. For a
+while he lay, gazing blankly at that vast, pale cliff towering above,
+rising moment by moment out of a subsiding tide of darkness. Its
+phantasmal, mysterious beauty held him for a space, and then he was seized
+with a paroxysm of sobbing laughter....</p>
+
+<p>After a great interval of time he became aware that he was near the lower
+edge of the snow. Below, down what was now a moon-lit and practicable
+slope, he saw the dark and broken appearance of rock-strewn turf. He
+struggled to his feet, aching in every joint and limb, got down painfully
+from the heaped loose snow about him, went downward until he was on the
+turf, and there dropped rather than lay beside a boulder, drank deep from
+the flask in his inner pocket, and instantly fell asleep....</p>
+
+<p>He was awakened by the singing of birds in the trees far below.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up and perceived he was on a little alp at the foot of a vast
+precipice that sloped only a little in the gully down which he and his snow
+had come. Over against him another wall of rock reared itself against the
+sky. The gorge between these precipices ran east and west and was full of
+the morning sunlight, which lit to the westward the mass of fallen mountain
+that closed the descending gorge. Below him it seemed there was a precipice
+equally steep, but behind the snow in the gully he found a sort of
+chimney-cleft dripping with snow-water, down which a desperate man might
+venture. He found it easier than it seemed, and came at last to another
+desolate alp, and then after a rock climb of no particular difficulty to a
+steep slope of trees. He took his bearings and turned his face up the
+gorge, for he saw it opened out above upon green meadows, among which he
+now glimpsed quite distinctly a cluster of stone huts of unfamiliar
+fashion. At times his progress was like clambering along the face of a
+wall, and after a time the rising sun ceased to strike along the gorge, the
+voices of the singing birds died away, and the air grew cold and dark about
+him. But the distant valley with its houses was all the brighter for that.
+He came presently to talus, and among the rocks he noted&mdash;for he was an
+observant man&mdash;an unfamiliar fern that seemed to clutch out of the crevices
+with intense green hands. He picked a frond or so and gnawed its stalk, and
+found it helpful.</p>
+
+<p>About midday he came at last out of the throat of the gorge into the plain
+and the sunlight. He was stiff and weary; he sat down in the shadow of a
+rock, filled up his flask with water from a spring and drank it down, and
+remained for a time, resting before he went on to the houses.</p>
+
+<p>They were very strange to his eyes, and indeed the whole aspect of that
+valley became, as he regarded it, queerer and more unfamiliar. The greater
+part of its surface was lush green meadow, starred with many beautiful
+flowers, irrigated with extraordinary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> care, and bearing evidence of
+systematic cropping piece by piece. High up and ringing the valley about
+was a wall, and what appeared to be a circumferential water channel, from
+which the little trickles of water that fed the meadow plants came, and on
+the higher slopes above this flocks of llamas cropped the scanty herbage.
+Sheds, apparently shelters or feeding-places for the llamas, stood against
+the boundary wall here and there. The irrigation streams ran together into
+a main channel down the centre of the valley, and this was enclosed on
+either side by a wall breast high. This gave a singularly urban quality to
+this secluded place, a quality that was greatly enhanced by the fact that a
+number of paths paved with black and white stones, and each with a curious
+little kerb at the side, ran hither and thither in an orderly manner. The
+houses of the central village were quite unlike the casual and
+higgledy-piggledy agglomeration of the mountain villages he knew; they
+stood in a continuous row on either side of a central street of astonishing
+cleanness, here and there their parti-coloured fa&ccedil;ade was pierced by a
+door, and not a solitary window broke their even frontage. They were
+parti-coloured with extraordinary irregularity, smeared with a sort of
+plaster that was sometimes grey, sometimes drab, sometimes slate-coloured
+or dark brown; and it was the sight of this wild plastering first brought
+the word "blind" into the thoughts of the explorer. "The good man who did
+that," he thought, "must have been as blind as a bat."</p>
+
+<p>He descended a steep place, and so came to the wall and channel that ran
+about the valley, near where the latter spouted out its surplus contents
+into the deeps of the gorge in a thin and wavering thread of cascade. He
+could now see a number of men and women resting on piled heaps of grass, as
+if taking a siesta, in the remoter part of the meadow, and nearer the
+village a number of recumbent children, and then nearer at hand three men
+carrying pails on yokes along a little path that ran from the encircling
+wall towards the houses. These latter were clad in garments of llama cloth
+and boots and belts of leather, and they wore caps of cloth with back and
+ear flaps. They followed one another in single file, walking slowly and
+yawning as they walked, like men who have been up all night. There was
+something so reassuringly prosperous and respectable in their bearing that
+after a moment's hesitation Nu&ntilde;ez stood forward as conspicuously as
+possible upon his rock, and gave vent to a mighty shout that echoed round
+the valley.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p404.jpg" width="500" height="386" alt="&quot;NU&Ntilde;EZ STOOD FORWARD AS CONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE UPON HIS
+ROCK.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;NU&Ntilde;EZ STOOD FORWARD AS CONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE UPON HIS
+ROCK.&quot;</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The three men stopped, and moved their heads as though they were looking
+about them. They turned their faces this way and that, and Nu&ntilde;ez
+gesticulated with freedom. But they did not appear to see him for all his
+gestures, and after a time, directing themselves towards the mountains far
+away to the right, they shouted as if in answer. Nu&ntilde;ez bawled again, and
+then once more, and as he gestured ineffectually the word "blind" came up
+to the top of his thoughts. "The fools must be blind," he said.</p>
+
+<p>When at last, after much shouting and wrath, Nu&ntilde;ez crossed the stream by a
+little bridge, came through a gate in the wall, and approached them, he was
+sure that they were blind. He was sure that this was the Country of the
+Blind of which the legends told. Conviction had sprung upon him, and a
+sense of great and rather enviable adventure. The three stood side by side,
+not looking at him, but with their ears directed towards him, judging him
+by his unfamiliar steps. They stood close together like men a little
+afraid, and he could see their eyelids closed and sunken, as though the
+very balls beneath had shrunk away. There was an expression near awe on
+their faces.</p>
+
+<p>"A man," one said, in hardly recognisable Spanish. "A man it is&mdash;a man or a
+spirit&mdash;coming down from the rocks."</p>
+
+<p>But Nu&ntilde;ez advanced with the confident steps of a youth who enters upon
+life. All the old stories of the lost valley and the Country of the Blind
+had come back to his mind, and through his thoughts ran this old proverb,
+as if it were a refrain:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."</p>
+
+<p>"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."</p>
+
+<p>And very civilly he gave them greeting. He talked to them and used his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Where does he come from, brother Pedro?" asked one.</p>
+
+<p>"Down out of the rocks."</p>
+
+<p>"Over the mountains I come," said Nu&ntilde;ez, "out of the country beyond
+there&mdash;where men can see. From near Bogota&mdash;where there are a hundred
+thousands of people, and where the city passes out of sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Sight?" muttered Pedro. "Sight?"</p>
+
+<p>"He comes," said the second blind man, "out of the rocks."</p>
+
+<p>The cloth of their coats Nu&ntilde;ez saw was curiously fashioned, each with a
+different sort of stitching.</p>
+
+<p>They startled him by a simultaneous movement towards him, each with a hand
+outstretched. He stepped back from the advance of these spread fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Come hither," said the third blind man, following his motion and clutching
+him neatly.</p>
+
+<p>And they held Nu&ntilde;ez and felt him over, saying no word further until they
+had done so.</p>
+
+<p>"Carefully," he cried, with a finger in his eye, and found they thought
+that organ, with its fluttering lids, a queer thing in him. They went over
+it again.</p>
+
+<p>"A strange creature, Correa," said the one called Pedro. "Feel the
+coarseness of his hair. Like a llama's hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Rough he is as the rocks that begot him," said Correa, investigating
+Nu&ntilde;ez's unshaven chin with a soft and slightly moist hand. "Perhaps he will
+grow finer."</p>
+
+<p>Nu&ntilde;ez struggled a little under their examination, but they gripped him
+firm.</p>
+
+<p>"Carefully," he said again.</p>
+
+<p>"He speaks," said the third man. "Certainly he is a man."</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh!" said Pedro, at the roughness of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have come into the world?" asked Pedro.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Out</i> of the world. Over mountains and glaciers; right over above there,
+half-way to the sun. Out of the great, big world that goes down, twelve
+days' journey to the sea."</p>
+
+<p>They scarcely seemed to heed him. "Our fathers have told us men may be made
+by the forces of Nature," said Correa. "It is the warmth of things, and
+moisture, and rottenness&mdash;rottenness."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us lead him to the elders," said Pedro.</p>
+
+<p>"Shout first," said Correa, "lest the children be afraid. This is a
+marvellous occasion."</p>
+
+<p>So they shouted, and Pedro went first and took Nu&ntilde;ez by the hand to lead
+him to the houses.</p>
+
+<p>He drew his hand away. "I can see," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"See?" said Correa.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; see," said Nu&ntilde;ez, turning towards him, and stumbled against Pedro's
+pail.</p>
+
+<p>"His senses are still imperfect," said the third blind man. "He stumbles,
+and talks unmeaning words. Lead him by the hand."</p>
+
+<p>"As you will," said Nu&ntilde;ez, and was led along, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed they knew nothing of sight.</p>
+
+<p>Well, all in good time he would teach them.</p>
+
+<p>He heard people shouting, and saw a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> number of figures gathering together
+in the middle roadway of the village.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 365px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p406.jpg" width="365" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;CAREFULLY,&#39; HE CRIED, WITH A FINGER IN HIS EYE.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;CAREFULLY,&#39; HE CRIED, WITH A FINGER IN HIS EYE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He found it tax his nerve and patience more than he had anticipated, that
+first encounter with the population of the Country of the Blind. The place
+seemed larger as he drew near to it, and the smeared plasterings queerer,
+and a crowd of children and men and women (the women and girls he was
+pleased to note had, some of them, quite sweet faces, for all that their
+eyes were shut and sunken) came about him, holding on to him, touching him
+with soft, sensitive hands, smelling at him, and listening at every word he
+spoke. Some of the maidens and children, however, kept aloof as if afraid,
+and indeed his voice seemed coarse and rude beside their softer notes. They
+mobbed him. His three guides kept close to him with an effect of
+proprietorship, and said again and again, "A wild man out of the rocks."</p>
+
+<p>"Bogota," he said. "Bogota. Over the mountain crests."</p>
+
+<p>"A wild man&mdash;using wild words," said Pedro. "Did you hear that&mdash;<i>Bogota</i>?
+His mind has hardly formed yet. He has only the beginnings of speech."</p>
+
+<p>A little boy nipped his hand. "Bogota!" he said, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Aye! A city to your village. I come from the great world&mdash;where men have
+eyes and see."</p>
+
+<p>"His name's Bogota," they said.</p>
+
+<p>"He stumbled," said Correa&mdash;"stumbled twice as we came hither."</p>
+
+<p>"Bring him in to the elders."</p>
+
+<p>And they thrust him suddenly through a doorway into a room as black as
+pitch, save at the end there faintly glowed a fire. The crowd closed in
+behind him and shut out all but the faintest glimmer of day, and before he
+could arrest himself he had fallen headlong over the feet of a seated man.
+His arm, out-flung, struck the face of someone else as he went down; he
+felt the soft impact of features and heard a cry of anger, and for a moment
+he struggled against a number of hands that clutched him. It was a
+one-sided fight. An inkling of the situation came to him and he lay quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"I fell down," he said; "I couldn't see in this pitchy darkness."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause as if the unseen persons about him tried to understand
+his words. Then the voice of Correa said: "He is but newly formed. He
+stumbles as he walks and mingles words that mean nothing with his speech."</p>
+
+<p>Others also said things about him that he heard or understood imperfectly.</p>
+
+<p>"May I sit up?" he asked, in a pause. "I will not struggle against you
+again."</p>
+
+<p>They consulted and let him rise.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of an older man began to question him, and Nu&ntilde;ez found himself
+trying to explain the great world out of which he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> fallen, and the sky
+and mountains and sight and such-like marvels, to these elders who sat in
+darkness in the Country of the Blind. And they would believe and understand
+nothing whatever that he told them, a thing quite outside his expectation.
+They would not even understand many of his words. For fourteen generations
+these people had been blind and cut off from all the seeing world; the
+names for all the things of sight had faded and changed; the story of the
+outer world was faded and changed to a child's story; and they had ceased
+to concern themselves with anything beyond the rocky slopes above their
+circling wall. Blind men of genius had arisen among them and questioned the
+shreds of belief and tradition they had brought with them from their seeing
+days, and had dismissed all these things as idle fancies and replaced them
+with new and saner explanations. Much of their imagination had shrivelled
+with their eyes, and they had made for themselves new imaginations with
+their ever more sensitive ears and fingertips. Slowly Nu&ntilde;ez realized this:
+that his expectation of wonder and reverence at his origin and his gifts
+was not to be borne out; and after his poor attempt to explain sight to
+them had been set aside as the confused version of a new-made being
+describing the marvels of his incoherent sensations, he subsided, a little
+dashed, into listening to their instruction. And the eldest of the blind
+men explained to him life and philosophy and religion, how that the world
+(meaning their valley) had been first an empty hollow in the rocks, and
+then had come first inanimate things without the gift of touch, and llamas
+and a few other creatures that had little sense, and then men, and at last
+angels, whom one could hear singing and making fluttering sounds, but whom
+no one could touch at all, which puzzled Nu&ntilde;ez greatly until he thought of
+the birds.</p>
+
+<p>He went on to tell Nu&ntilde;ez how this time had been divided into the warm and
+the cold, which are the blind equivalents of day and night, and how it was
+good to sleep in the warm and work during the cold, so that now, but for
+his advent, the whole town of the blind would have been asleep. He said
+Nu&ntilde;ez must have been specially created to learn and serve the wisdom they
+had acquired, and that for all his mental incoherency and stumbling
+behaviour he must have courage and do his best to learn, and at that all
+the people in the doorway murmured encouragingly. He said the night&mdash;for
+the blind call their day night&mdash;was now far gone, and it behoved everyone
+to go back to sleep. He asked Nu&ntilde;ez if he knew how to sleep, and Nu&ntilde;ez said
+he did, but that before sleep he wanted food. They brought him food,
+llama's milk in a bowl and rough salted bread, and led him into a lonely
+place to eat out of their hearing, and afterwards to slumber until the
+chill of the mountain evening roused them to begin their day again. But
+Nu&ntilde;ez slumbered not at all.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, he sat up in the place where they had left him, resting his limbs
+and turning the unanticipated circumstances of his arrival over and over in
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then he laughed, sometimes with amusement and sometimes with
+indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"Unformed mind!" he said. "Got no senses yet! They little know they've been
+insulting their Heaven-sent King and master....</p>
+
+<p>"I see I must bring them to reason.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me think.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me think."</p>
+
+<p>He was still thinking when the sun set.</p>
+
+<p>Nu&ntilde;ez had an eye for all beautiful things, and it seemed to him that the
+glow upon the snow-fields and glaciers that rose about the valley on every
+side was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His eyes went from that
+inaccessible glory to the village and irrigated fields, fast sinking into
+the twilight, and suddenly a wave of emotion took him, and he thanked God
+from the bottom of his heart that the power of sight had been given him.</p>
+
+<p>He heard a voice calling to him from out of the village.</p>
+
+<p>"Yaho there, Bogota! Come hither!"</p>
+
+<p>At that he stood up, smiling. He would show these people once and for all
+what sight would do for a man. They would seek him, but not find him.</p>
+
+<p>"You move not, Bogota," said the voice.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed noiselessly and made two stealthy steps aside from the path.</p>
+
+<p>"Trample not on the grass, Bogota; that is not allowed."</p>
+
+<p>Nu&ntilde;ez had scarcely heard the sound he made himself. He stopped, amazed.</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the voice came running up the piebald path towards him.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped back into the pathway. "Here I am," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not come when I called you?" said the blind man. "Must you be
+led like a child? Cannot you hear the path as you walk?"</p>
+
+<p>Nu&ntilde;ez laughed. "I can see it," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There is no such word as <i>see</i>," said the blind man, after a pause. "Cease
+this folly and follow the sound of my feet."</p>
+
+<p>Nu&ntilde;ez followed, a little annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"My time will come," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll learn," the blind man answered. "There is much to learn in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Has no one told you, 'In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is
+King'?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is blind?" asked the blind man, carelessly, over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Four days passed and the fifth found the King of the Blind still incognito,
+as a clumsy and useless stranger among his subjects.</p>
+
+<p>It was, he found, much more difficult to proclaim himself than he had
+supposed, and in the meantime, while he meditated his <i>coup d'&eacute;tat</i>, he did
+what he was told and learnt the manners and customs of the Country of the
+Blind. He found working and going about at night a particularly irksome
+thing, and he decided that that should be the first thing he would change.</p>
+
+<p>They led a simple, laborious life, these people, with all the elements of
+virtue and happiness as these things can be understood by men. They toiled,
+but not oppressively; they had food and clothing sufficient for their
+needs; they had days and seasons of rest; they made much of music and
+singing, and there was love among them and little children. It was
+marvellous with what confidence and precision they went about their ordered
+world. Everything, you see, had been made to fit their needs; each of the
+radiating paths of the valley area had a constant angle to the others, and
+was distinguished by a special notch upon its kerbing; all obstacles and
+irregularities of path or meadow had long since been cleared away; all
+their methods and procedure arose naturally from their special needs. Their
+senses had become marvellously acute; they could hear and judge the
+slightest gesture of a man a dozen paces away&mdash;could hear the very beating
+of his heart. Intonation had long replaced expression with them, and
+touches gesture, and their work with hoe and spade and fork was as free and
+confident as garden work can be. Their sense of smell was extraordinarily
+fine; they could distinguish individual differences as readily as a dog
+can, and they went about the tending of llamas, who lived among the rocks
+above and came to the wall for food and shelter, with ease and confidence.
+It was only when at last Nu&ntilde;ez sought to assert himself that he found how
+easy and confident their movements could be.</p>
+
+<p>He rebelled only after he had tried persuasion.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 315px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p408.jpg" width="315" height="500" alt="&quot;THE GLOW UPON THE SNOW-FIELDS AND GLACIERS WAS THE MOST
+BEAUTIFUL THING HE HAD EVER SEEN.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE GLOW UPON THE SNOW-FIELDS AND GLACIERS WAS THE MOST
+BEAUTIFUL THING HE HAD EVER SEEN.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He tried at first on several occasions to tell them of sight. "Look you
+here, you people," he said. "There are things you do not understand in me."</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice one or two of them attended to him; they sat with faces
+downcast and ears turned intelligently towards him, and he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> his best to
+tell them what it was to see. Among his hearers was a girl, with eyelids
+less red and sunken than the others, so that one could almost fancy she was
+hiding eyes, whom especially he hoped to persuade. He spoke of the beauties
+of sight, of watching the mountains, of the sky and the sunrise, and they
+heard him with amused incredulity that presently became condemnatory. They
+told him there were indeed no mountains at all, but that the end of the
+rocks where the llamas grazed was indeed the end of the world; thence
+sprang a cavernous roof of the universe, from which the dew and the
+avalanches fell; and when he maintained stoutly the world had neither end
+nor roof such as they supposed, they said his thoughts were wicked. So far
+as he could describe sky and clouds and stars to them it seemed to them a
+hideous void, a terrible blankness in the place of the smooth roof to
+things in which they believed&mdash;it was an article of faith with them that
+the cavern roof was exquisitely smooth to the touch. He saw that in some
+manner he shocked them, and gave up that aspect of the matter altogether,
+and tried to show them the practical value of sight. One morning he saw
+Pedro in the path called Seventeen and coming towards the central houses,
+but still too far off for hearing or scent, and he told them as much. "In a
+little while," he prophesied, "Pedro will be here." An old man remarked
+that Pedro had no business on path Seventeen, and then, as if in
+confirmation, that individual as he drew near turned and went transversely
+into path Ten, and so back with nimble paces towards the outer wall. They
+mocked Nu&ntilde;ez when Pedro did not arrive, and afterwards, when he asked Pedro
+questions to clear his character, Pedro denied and outfaced him, and was
+afterwards hostile to him.</p>
+
+<p>Then he induced them to let him go a long way up the sloping meadows
+towards the wall with one complaisant individual, and to him he promised to
+describe all that happened among the houses. He noted certain goings and
+comings, but the things that really seemed to signify to these people
+happened inside of or behind the windowless houses&mdash;the only things they
+took note of to test him by&mdash;and of those he could see or tell nothing; and
+it was after the failure of this attempt, and the ridicule they could not
+repress, that he resorted to force. He thought of seizing a spade and
+suddenly smiting one or two of them to earth, and so in fair combat showing
+the advantage of eyes. He went so far with that resolution as to seize his
+spade, and then he discovered a new thing about himself, and that was that
+it was impossible for him to hit a blind man in cold blood.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated, and found them all aware that he had snatched up the spade.
+They stood all alert, with their heads on one side, and bent ears towards
+him for what he would do next.</p>
+
+<p>"Put that spade down," said one, and he felt a sort of helpless horror. He
+came near obedience.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had thrust one backwards against a house wall, and fled past him
+and out of the village.</p>
+
+<p>He went athwart one of their meadows, leaving a track of trampled grass
+behind his feet, and presently sat down by the side of one of their ways.
+He felt something of the buoyancy that comes to all men in the beginning of
+a fight, but more perplexity. He began to realize that you cannot even
+fight happily with creatures who stand upon a different mental basis to
+yourself. Far away he saw a number of men carrying spades and sticks come
+out of the street of houses and advance in a spreading line along the
+several paths towards him. They advanced slowly, speaking frequently to one
+another, and ever and again the whole cordon would halt and sniff the air
+and listen.</p>
+
+<p>The first time they did this Nu&ntilde;ez laughed. But afterwards he did not
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>One struck his trail in the meadow grass and came stooping and feeling his
+way along it.</p>
+
+<p>For five minutes he watched the slow extension of the cordon, and then his
+vague disposition to do something forthwith became frantic. He stood up,
+went a pace or so towards the circumferential wall, turned, and went back a
+little way. There they all stood in a crescent, still and listening.</p>
+
+<p>He also stood still, gripping his spade very tightly in both hands. Should
+he charge them?</p>
+
+<p>The pulse in his ears ran into the rhythm of "In the Country of the Blind
+the One-Eyed Man is King!"</p>
+
+<p>Should he charge them?</p>
+
+<p>He looked back at the high and unclimbable wall behind&mdash;unclimbable because
+of its smooth plastering, but withal pierced with many little doors, and at
+the approaching line of seekers. Behind these others were now coming out of
+the street of houses.</p>
+
+<p>Should he charge them?</p>
+
+<p>"Bogota!" called one. "Bogota! where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>He gripped his spade still tighter and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> advanced down the meadows towards
+the place of habitations, and directly he moved they converged upon him.
+"I'll hit them if they touch me," he swore; "by Heaven, I will. I'll hit."
+He called aloud, "Look here, I'm going to do what I like in this valley! Do
+you hear? I'm going to do what I like and go where I like."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p410.jpg" width="500" height="404" alt="&quot;THEY WERE MOVING IN UPON HIM QUICKLY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THEY WERE MOVING IN UPON HIM QUICKLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>They were moving in upon him quickly, groping, yet moving rapidly. It was
+like playing blind man's buff with everyone blind-folded except one. "Get
+hold of him!" cried one. He found himself in the arc of a loose curve of
+pursuers. He felt suddenly he must be active and resolute.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand," he cried, in a voice that was meant to be great and
+resolute, and which broke. "You are blind and I can see. Leave me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bogota! Put down that spade and come off the grass!"</p>
+
+<p>The last order, grotesque in its urban familiarity, produced a gust of
+anger. "I'll hurt you," he said, sobbing with emotion. "By Heaven, I'll
+hurt you! Leave me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>He began to run&mdash;not knowing clearly where to run. He ran from the nearest
+blind man, because it was a horror to hit him. He stopped, and then made a
+dash to escape from their closing ranks. He made for where a gap was wide,
+and the men on either side, with a quick perception of the approach of his
+paces, rushed in on one another. He sprang forward, and then saw he must be
+caught, and <i>swish!</i> the spade had struck. He felt the soft thud of hand
+and arm, and the man was down with a yell of pain, and he was through.</p>
+
+<p>Through! And then he was close to the street of houses again, and blind
+men, whirling spades and stakes, were running with a sort of reasoned
+swiftness hither and thither.</p>
+
+<p>He heard steps behind him just in time, and found a tall man rushing
+forward and swiping at the sound of him. He lost his nerve, hurled his
+spade a yard wide at this antagonist, and whirled about and fled, fairly
+yelling as he dodged another.</p>
+
+<p>He was panic-stricken. He ran furiously to and fro, dodging when there was
+no need to dodge, and, in his anxiety to see on every side of him at once,
+stumbling. For a moment he was down and they heard his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> fall. Far away in
+the circumferential wall a little doorway looked like Heaven, and he set
+off in a wild rush for it. He did not even look round at his pursuers until
+it was gained, and he had stumbled across the bridge, clambered a little
+way among the rocks, to the surprise and dismay of a young llama, who went
+leaping out of sight, and lay down sobbing for breath.</p>
+
+<p>And so his <i>coup d'&eacute;tat</i> came to an end.</p>
+
+<p>He stayed outside the wall of the valley of the blind for two nights and
+days without food or shelter, and meditated upon the Unexpected. During
+these meditations he repeated very frequently and always with a profounder
+note of derision the exploded proverb: "In the Country of the Blind the
+One-Eyed Man is King." He thought chiefly of ways of fighting and
+conquering these people, and it grew clear that for him no practicable way
+was possible. He had no weapons, and now it would be hard to get one.</p>
+
+<p>The canker of civilization had got to him even in Bogota, and he could not
+find it in himself to go down and assassinate a blind man. Of course, if he
+did that, he might then dictate terms on the threat of assassinating them
+all. But&mdash;&mdash;Sooner or later he must sleep!...</p>
+
+<p>He tried also to find food among the pine trees, to be comfortable under
+pine boughs while the frost fell at night, and&mdash;with less confidence&mdash;to
+catch a llama by artifice in order to try to kill it&mdash;perhaps by hammering
+it with a stone&mdash;and so finally, perhaps, to eat some of it. But the llamas
+had a doubt of him and regarded him with distrustful brown eyes and spat
+when he drew near. Fear came on him the second day and fits of shivering.
+Finally he crawled down to the wall of the Country of the Blind and tried
+to make his terms. He crawled along by the stream, shouting, until two
+blind men came out to the gate and talked to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I was mad," he said. "But I was only newly made."</p>
+
+<p>They said that was better.</p>
+
+<p>He told them he was wiser now, and repented of all he had done.</p>
+
+<p>Then he wept without intention, for he was very weak and ill now, and they
+took that as a favourable sign.</p>
+
+<p>They asked him if he still thought he could "<i>see</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said. "That was folly. The word means nothing. Less than nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>They asked him what was overhead.</p>
+
+<p>"About ten times ten the height of a man there is a roof above the
+world&mdash;of rock&mdash;and very, very smooth. So smooth&mdash;so beautifully
+smooth...." He burst again into hysterical tears. "Before you ask me any
+more, give me some food or I shall die!"</p>
+
+<p>He expected dire punishments, but these blind people were capable of
+toleration. They regarded his rebellion as but one more proof of his
+general idiocy and inferiority, and after they had whipped him they
+appointed him to do the simplest and heaviest work they had for anyone to
+do, and he, seeing no other way of living, did submissively what he was
+told.</p>
+
+<p>He was ill for some days and they nursed him kindly. That refined his
+submission. But they insisted on his lying in the dark, and that was a
+great misery. And blind philosophers came and talked to him of the wicked
+levity of his mind, and reproved him so impressively for his doubts about
+the lid of rock that covered their cosmic <i>casserole</i> that he almost
+doubted whether indeed he was not the victim of hallucination in not seeing
+it overhead.</p>
+
+<p>So Nu&ntilde;ez became a citizen of the Country of the Blind, and these people
+ceased to be a generalized people and became individualities to him, and
+familiar to him, while the world beyond the mountains became more and more
+remote and unreal. There was Yacob, his master, a kindly man when not
+annoyed; there was Pedro, Yacob's nephew; and there was Medina-sarot&eacute;, who
+was the youngest daughter of Yacob. She was little esteemed in the world of
+the blind, because she had a clear-cut face and lacked that satisfying,
+glossy smoothness that is the blind man's ideal of feminine beauty, but
+Nu&ntilde;ez thought her beautiful at first, and presently the most beautiful
+thing in the whole creation. Her closed eyelids were not sunken and red
+after the common way of the valley, but lay as though they might open again
+at any moment; and she had long eyelashes, which were considered a grave
+disfigurement. And her voice was weak and did not satisfy the acute hearing
+of the valley swains. So that she had no lover.</p>
+
+<p>There came a time when Nu&ntilde;ez thought that, could he win her, he would be
+resigned to live in the valley for all the rest of his days.</p>
+
+<p>He watched her; he sought opportunities of doing her little services, and
+presently he found that she observed him. Once at a rest-day gathering they
+sat side by side in the dim starlight, and the music was sweet. His hand
+came upon hers and he dared to clasp it. Then very tenderly she returned
+his pressure. And one day, as they were at their meal in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> the darkness, he
+felt her hand very softly seeking him, and as it chanced the fire leapt
+then, and he saw the tenderness of her face.</p>
+
+<p>He sought to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>He went to her one day when she was sitting in the summer moonlight
+spinning. The light made her a thing of silver and mystery. He sat down at
+her feet and told her he loved her, and told her how beautiful she seemed
+to him. He had a lover's voice, he spoke with a tender reverence that came
+near to awe, and she had never before been touched by adoration. She made
+him no definite answer, but it was clear his words pleased her.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p412.jpg" width="393" height="500" alt="&quot;HE SAT DOWN AT HER FEET.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE SAT DOWN AT HER FEET.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>After that he talked to her whenever he could take an opportunity. The
+valley became the world for him, and the world beyond the mountains where
+men lived by day seemed no more than a fairy tale he would some day pour
+into her ears. Very tentatively and timidly he spoke to her of sight.</p>
+
+<p>Sight seemed to her the most poetical of fancies, and she listened to his
+description of the stars and the mountains and her own sweet white-lit
+beauty as though it was a guilty indulgence. She did not believe, she could
+only half understand, but she was mysteriously delighted, and it seemed to
+him that she completely understood.</p>
+
+<p>His love lost its awe and took courage. Presently he was for demanding her
+of Yacob and the elders in marriage, but she became fearful and delayed.
+And it was one of her elder sisters who first told Yacob that Medina-sarot&eacute;
+and Nu&ntilde;ez were in love.</p>
+
+<p>There was from the first very great opposition to the marriage of Nu&ntilde;ez and
+Medina-sarot&eacute;; not so much because they valued her as because they held him
+as a being apart, an idiot, incompetent thing below the permissible level
+of a man. Her sisters opposed it bitterly as bringing discredit on them
+all; and old Yacob, though he had formed a sort of liking for his clumsy,
+obedient serf, shook his head and said the thing could not be. The young
+men were all angry at the idea of corrupting the race, and one went so far
+as to revile and strike Nu&ntilde;ez. He struck back. Then for the first time he
+found an advantage in seeing, even by twilight, and after that fight was
+over no one was disposed to raise a hand against him. But they still found
+his marriage impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Old Yacob had a tenderness for his last little daughter, and was grieved to
+have her weep upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, my dear, he's an idiot. He has delusions; he can't do anything
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," wept Medina-sarot&eacute;. "But he's better than he was. He's getting
+better. And he's strong, dear father, and kind&mdash;stronger and kinder than
+any other man in the world. And he loves me&mdash;and, father, I love him."</p>
+
+<p>Old Yacob was greatly distressed to find her inconsolable, and,
+besides&mdash;what made it more distressing&mdash;he liked Nu&ntilde;ez for many things. So
+he went and sat in the windowless council-chamber with the other elders and
+watched the trend of the talk, and said, at the proper time, "He's better
+than he was. Very likely, some day, we shall find him as sane as
+ourselves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then afterwards one of the elders, who thought deeply, had an idea. He was
+the great doctor among these people, their medicine-man, and he had a very
+philosophical and inventive mind, and the idea of curing Nu&ntilde;ez of his
+peculiarities appealed to him. One day when Yacob was present he returned
+to the topic of Nu&ntilde;ez. "I have examined Nu&ntilde;ez," he said, "and the case is
+clearer to me. I think very probably he might be cured."</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I have always hoped," said old Yacob.</p>
+
+<p>"His brain is affected," said the blind doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The elders murmured assent.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p413.jpg" width="500" height="370" alt="&quot;&#39;HIS BRAIN IS AFFECTED,&#39; SAID THE BLIND DOCTOR.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;HIS BRAIN IS AFFECTED,&#39; SAID THE BLIND DOCTOR.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Now, <i>what</i> affects it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said old Yacob.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>This</i>," said the doctor, answering his own question. "Those queer things
+that are called the eyes, and which exist to make an agreeable depression
+in the face, are diseased, in the case of Nu&ntilde;ez, in such a way as to affect
+his brain. They are greatly distended, he has eyelashes, and his eyelids
+move, and consequently his brain is in a state of constant irritation and
+distraction."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" said old Yacob. "Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I think I may say with reasonable certainty that, in order to cure him
+completely, all that we need to do is a simple and easy surgical
+operation&mdash;namely, to remove these irritant bodies."</p>
+
+<p>"And then he will be sane?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then he will be perfectly sane, and a quite admirable citizen."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank Heaven for science!" said old Yacob, and went forth at once to tell
+Nu&ntilde;ez of his happy hopes.</p>
+
+<p>But Nu&ntilde;ez's manner of receiving the good news struck him as being cold and
+disappointing.</p>
+
+<p>"One might think," he said, "from the tone you take that you did not care
+for my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>It was Medina-sarot&eacute; who persuaded Nu&ntilde;ez to face the blind surgeons.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> do not want me," he said, "to lose my gift of sight?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"My world is sight."</p>
+
+<p>Her head drooped lower.</p>
+
+<p>"There are the beautiful things, the beautiful little things&mdash;the flowers,
+the lichens amidst the rocks, the light and softness on a piece of fur, the
+far sky with its drifting down of clouds, the sunsets and the stars. And
+there is <i>you</i>. For you alone it is good to have sight, to see your sweet,
+serene face, your kindly lips, your dear, beautiful hands folded
+together.... It is these eyes of mine you won, these eyes that hold me to
+you, that these idiots seek. Instead, I must touch you, hear you, and never
+see you again. I must come under that roof of rock and stone and darkness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span>
+that horrible roof under which your imaginations stoop.... <i>No</i>; <i>you</i>
+would not have me do that?"</p>
+
+<p>A disagreeable doubt had arisen in him. He stopped and left the thing a
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish," she said, "sometimes&mdash;&mdash;" She paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" said he, a little apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish sometimes&mdash;you would not talk like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Like what?"</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 352px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p414.jpg" width="352" height="500" alt="&quot;HE HAD A FEW MINUTES WITH MEDINA-SAROT&Eacute; BEFORE SHE WENT
+APART TO SLEEP.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE HAD A FEW MINUTES WITH MEDINA-SAROT&Eacute; BEFORE SHE WENT
+APART TO SLEEP.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I know it's pretty&mdash;it's your imagination. I love it, but <i>now</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He felt cold. "<i>Now?</i>" he said, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>She sat quite still.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;you think&mdash;I should be better, better perhaps&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He was realizing things very swiftly. He felt anger perhaps, anger at the
+dull course of fate, but also sympathy for her lack of understanding&mdash;a
+sympathy near akin to pity. "<i>Dear</i>," he said, and he could see by her
+whiteness how tensely her spirit pressed against the things she could not
+say. He put his arms about her, he kissed her ear, and they sat for a time
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were to consent to this?" he said at last, in a voice that was very
+gentle.</p>
+
+<p>She flung her arms about him, weeping wildly. "Oh, if you would," she
+sobbed, "if only you would!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>For a week before the operation that was to raise him from his servitude
+and inferiority to the level of a blind citizen Nu&ntilde;ez knew nothing of
+sleep, and all through the warm, sunlit hours, while the others slumbered
+happily, he sat brooding or wandered aimlessly, trying to bring his mind to
+bear on his dilemma. He had given his answer, he had given his consent, and
+still he was not sure. And at last work-time was over, the sun rose in
+splendour over the golden crests, and his last day of vision began for him.
+He had a few minutes with Medina-sarot&eacute; before she went apart to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," he said, "I shall see no more."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear heart!" she answered, and pressed his hands with all her strength.</p>
+
+<p>"They will hurt you but little," she said; "and you are going through this
+pain, you are going through it, dear lover, for <i>me</i>.... Dear, if a woman's
+heart and life can do it, I will repay you. My dearest one, my dearest with
+the tender voice, I will repay."</p>
+
+<p>He was drenched in pity for himself and her.</p>
+
+<p>He held her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers and looked on her
+sweet face for the last time. "Good-bye!" he whispered to that dear sight,
+"good-bye!"</p>
+
+<p>And then in silence he turned away from her.</p>
+
+<p>She could hear his slow retreating footsteps, and something in the rhythm
+of them threw her into a passion of weeping.</p>
+
+<p>He walked away.</p>
+
+<p>He had fully meant to go to a lonely place where the meadows were beautiful
+with white narcissus, and there remain until the hour of his sacrifice
+should come, but as he walked he lifted up his eyes and saw the morning,
+the morning like an angel in golden armour, marching down the steeps....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that before this splendour he and this blind world in the
+valley, and his love and all, were no more than a pit of sin.</p>
+
+<p>He did not turn aside as he had meant to do, but went on and passed through
+the wall of the circumference and out upon the rocks, and his eyes were
+always upon the sunlit ice and snow.</p>
+
+<p>He saw their infinite beauty, and his imagination soared over them to the
+things beyond he was now to resign for ever!</p>
+
+<p>He thought of that great free world that he was parted from, the world that
+was his own, and he had a vision of those further slopes, distance beyond
+distance, with Bogota, a place of multitudinous stirring beauty, a glory by
+day, a luminous mystery by night, a place of palaces and fountains and
+statues and white houses, lying beautifully in the middle distance. He
+thought how for a day or so one might come down through passes drawing ever
+nearer and nearer to its busy streets and ways. He thought of the river
+journey, day by day, from great Bogota to the still vaster world beyond,
+through towns and villages, forest and desert places, the rushing river day
+by day, until its banks receded and the big steamers came splashing by and
+one had reached the sea&mdash;the limitless sea, with its thousand islands, its
+thousands of islands, and its ships seen dimly far away in their incessant
+journeyings round and about that greater world. And there, unpent by
+mountains, one saw the sky&mdash;the sky, not such a disc as one saw it here,
+but an arch of immeasurable blue, a deep of deeps in which the circling
+stars were floating....</p>
+
+<p>His eyes began to scrutinize the great curtain of the mountains with a
+keener inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>For example: if one went so, up that gully and to that chimney there, then
+one might come out high among those stunted pines that ran round in a sort
+of shelf and rose still higher and higher as it passed above the gorge. And
+then? That talus might be managed. Thence perhaps a climb might be found to
+take him up to the precipice that came below the snow; and if that chimney
+failed, then another farther to the east might serve his purpose better.
+And then? Then one would be out upon the amber-lit snow there, and half-way
+up to the crest of those beautiful desolations. And suppose one had good
+fortune!</p>
+
+<p>He glanced back at the village, then turned right round and regarded it
+with folded arms.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of Medina-sarot&eacute;, and she had become small and remote.</p>
+
+<p>He turned again towards the mountain wall down which the day had come to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, very circumspectly he began his climb.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When sunset came he was no longer climbing, but he was far and high. His
+clothes were torn, his limbs were blood-stained, he was bruised in many
+places, but he lay as if he were at his ease, and there was a smile on his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>From where he rested the valley seemed as if it were in a pit and nearly a
+mile below. Already it was dim with haze and shadow, though the mountain
+summits around him were things of light and fire. The mountain summits
+around him were things of light and fire, and the little things in the
+rocks near at hand were drenched with light and beauty, a vein of green
+mineral piercing the grey, a flash of small crystal here and there, a
+minute, minutely-beautiful orange lichen close beside his face. There were
+deep, mysterious shadows in the gorge, blue deepening into purple, and
+purple into a luminous darkness, and overhead was the illimitable vastness
+of the sky. But he heeded these things no longer, but lay quite still
+there, smiling as if he were content now merely to have escaped from the
+valley of the Blind, in which he had thought to be King. And the glow of
+the sunset passed, and the night came, and still he lay there, under the
+cold, clear stars.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Off_the_Track_in_London" id="Off_the_Track_in_London"></a><i>Off the Track in London.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By George R. Sims.</span></h3>
+
+
+<h3>I. IN ALIEN-LAND.</h3>
+
+<p>It is many a long year since I first began to find delight in wandering
+through the least-known districts of the capital, in visiting strange
+quarters inhabited by strange people, in penetrating dim, mysterious
+regions where thousands of our fellow-citizens live, cut off from the rest
+of the populace by a network of streets and slums into which it is nobody's
+business but the inhabitants' to enter, and where a visitor from beyond is
+rarely seen.</p>
+
+<p>At first my travels were undertaken solely to gratify my own curiosity.
+Later on, when there came to me an opportunity of exploring with a less
+selfish end in view, many circumstances combined to give me an insight into
+the life of the people which I could never have gained as a mere onlooker.
+So it has come about that to-day I can not only survey the streets of the
+strange lands in the capital of King Edward, but I can enter the houses and
+take my notes from the cellar to the roof. I am privileged to sit around
+the coke fire in lodging-houses where an ordinary stranger would meet with
+scant courtesy; and the mysteries of "How the Poor Live" are freely
+unveiled to me. In the vilest of the native quarters, in the queerest of
+the foreign quarters, I am permitted to spend days and nights, not peeping
+furtively at the human comedies and tragedies in which the strange men and
+women are players, but made way for as one entitled to a front place in the
+local audience.</p>
+
+<p>Of some of the things that I have seen I have written from time to time,
+but I have always longed for the pencil of the artist to enable the reader
+to realize what some of the scenes actually mean. And now my wish has been
+gratified. I have been able to wander off the track in London accompanied
+by an artist <i>confr&egrave;re</i>, and to provide him with opportunities for making
+sketches on the spot.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It is four o'clock on Sunday afternoon as we come out of Aldgate Station
+and in a few minutes turn into Middlesex Street, littered with paper and
+straw and rubbish, the remains of the great Sunday morning market, which is
+at its highest at noon and gradually disappears as the afternoon wears on.</p>
+
+<p>The scene is known to most Londoners, for the fame of Petticoat Lane, as
+the street was formerly called, has spread through the length and breadth
+of the land.</p>
+
+<p>But we must pass through it to get off the track in the Ghetto, which has
+burst its old boundaries and now extends over a large area which until
+lately was a Christian quarter.</p>
+
+<p>It is not till we come to Wentworth Street that the strangeness of the
+Sunday scene reveals itself. Here all the shops are open and the narrow
+thoroughfare is packed with the stalls of Jewish hawkers. We hear a little
+English at the top of Wentworth Street, but as we push our way through the
+seething crowd and get nearer to Brick Lane the English words become rarer
+and rarer, and presently only the German Hebrew jargon known as "Yiddish"
+reaches our ears.</p>
+
+<p>We are in the heart of the old Ghetto. The alien immigrants, many of them
+fresh from the Pale of Settlement in Russia and the persecutions of
+Roumania, are chaffering and bargaining with their co-religionists who have
+been in London long enough to stock a barrow or a stall and start on the
+path of financial progress, which may lead their sons, if not themselves,
+<i>vi&acirc;</i> Dalston, Canonbury, Maida Vale, and Bayswater, to Kensington, and
+perhaps Park Lane.</p>
+
+<p>Stop for a moment and gaze at the crowd. A London child seeing it for the
+first time would look at the faces and recall the Bible pictures.
+Everywhere the Oriental type predominates. The old, solemn-looking men&mdash;the
+poorest of the hawkers, for they have come to the Land of Promise too late
+to struggle out of the ruck&mdash;have the beards and features of the
+Patriarchs. They are calling aloud the price of their poor goods in the
+lachrymose sing-song of the Eastern pedlar. Pious Jews are these aged
+immigrants, and if you were to follow them to their synagogue you would see
+them swaying to and fro as they repeat their prayers in the same mournful,
+wailing voice with which they cry their wares.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 346px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p417.jpg" width="346" height="500" alt="&quot;IN WENTWORTH STREET.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;IN WENTWORTH STREET.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The women are as Eastern as the men. The girls are handsome, dark-haired,
+dark-eyed daughters of Israel, whose type of beauty has not changed in all
+the thousand years of persecution and exile.</p>
+
+<p>The younger women are well dressed, with a tendency to brilliant colours
+and the "Paris fashion" that is displayed in the gay millinery shops of the
+Ghetto. The children, who have been running in and out of the crowd, are
+neat and clean, their pinafores are white, their boots are good and
+well-fitting, their hair is bound with bright ribbons, and their frocks are
+pretty. The first thought of the poorest alien immigrant is for his
+children, and his pride is to see them well clad and well cared for.</p>
+
+<p>The middle-aged women and the old women are true daughters of the East.
+They wear coloured shawls over their heads. There is a curious monotony in
+the coiffure of the women of the Ghetto who have passed their first youth.
+The woman of thirty and the woman of seventy seem equally well supplied
+with a head of glossy black hair. The stranger wonders, as he looks into an
+old, wrinkled face, at the abundance of black hair surmounting it. If he
+asks the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> reason he will learn that many of the Russian Jewesses cut their
+own hair off on the day of their marriage and wear a wig for the rest of
+their lives. To the Oriental the glory of a woman is her hair. The Jewish
+bride was expected to sacrifice this attraction in order that she should
+not entice the eyes of men.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p418.jpg" width="500" height="432" alt="&quot;A CLOTHES AUCTION IN FULL SWING.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A CLOTHES AUCTION IN FULL SWING.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is a custom of long ago and the Russian Jewesses adhere to it. Most of
+the older women came into the Ghetto straight from the ship that landed
+them in the Thames, and they rarely go beyond its boundaries. Many of them
+would not if they had the chance.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a clothes auction in full swing. The sombre shop, the front window
+of which is pushed half-way up, is packed with ready-made suits. The
+proprietor is selling them to an eager crowd of men, who, when their bid is
+accepted, take trousers, coats, and waistcoats over their arm and walk away
+with their purchase. There is a tailor's shop close at hand where twenty
+cutters and a large number of hands are employed in preparing suits solely
+for the Sunday sale in this street.</p>
+
+<p>Within a stone's throw of this street is a great Sunday gold and diamond
+market. During the morning and early afternoon you may see a number of men
+with little wash-leather bags or velvet-lined cases displaying their
+glittering merchandise to one another. The jewel mart and exchange is in
+progress. Many hundreds of pounds' worth of jewels change hands within a
+few minutes. In Wentworth Street the buyer will haggle and bargain for half
+an hour over a few pence. In St. James's Place a transaction involving
+hundreds of pounds is carried out in a minute with scarcely a superfluous
+word. The business is conducted with perfect good-humour, but the dealers
+are among the keenest and cleverest men in the City of London.</p>
+
+<p>But we are still only half off the track, for now and again the Gentile
+sightseer penetrates as far as this.</p>
+
+<p>As we come out from Wentworth Street<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> into Brick Lane, where there is no
+market and so no crowd, the long line of open shops and busy warehouses,
+the hum and bustle of trade and toil in full swing, strike us as peculiar
+when we remember that it is Sunday. Leaving Brick Lane with its Russian
+post-office, its Roumanian restaurants, and shop after shop where the young
+men of the Ghetto take the syrups and temperance drinks that are their
+principal liquid refreshment, we make our way down Commercial Street and
+plunge into the new Ghetto, a vast area far more foreign than the old
+Ghetto, and now entirely given up to the alien immigrant. In the broad main
+thoroughfare the shops are all open and trade is at its height. The
+factories are busy, the furniture shops are loading their vans, the
+shipping agents and bankers are taking money for remittance to relatives
+abroad who are to leave the Russian Pale and come to the city paved with
+gold, or booking passages to America and the Colonies for the immigrants
+who are "moving on."</p>
+
+<p>Here the scene to the unaccustomed Gentile eye is only odd. Directly he
+turns into the small streets the stranger is filled with absolute
+astonishment. Many of them are still crowded with dwelling-houses of the
+poorest class; but where the Gentile dwelt the Jew trades. House after
+house has been transformed into a shop. Windows have been taken out and
+living rooms packed with merchandise. Every available corner is used, and
+one sees the proprietor sitting in a little front room so packed in with
+rolls of gay-coloured cloths, fancy boxes, and packages that one imagines
+his only way of getting out must be by a harlequin leap through the window.</p>
+
+<p>You may wander through miles of streets in this quarter and see the same
+strange sight&mdash;the immigrant Jew who has established himself keeping open
+shop in a dwelling-house all the Sunday through. You may see trade in full
+tide at eight o'clock in the morning. When midnight has rung out from the
+churches which still remain as memorials of the vanished Christian
+population you will still see the shops open and the Rembrandtesque figure
+of the owner sitting among his wares, waiting for a chance customer. He is
+perhaps reading a Yiddish paper, printed in Hebrew characters, by the light
+of a candle, slowly guttering to its last flicker.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p419.jpg" width="500" height="394" alt="&quot;THE ORIENTAL BAZAAR.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE ORIENTAL BAZAAR.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But it is not yet night, though the twilight is falling as we turn into
+Morgan Street, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> come suddenly upon a page of the old Orient bound up in
+the book of modern Western life.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a building which is fitly labelled "The Oriental Bazaar." You are
+in London, but you might be in Cairo or Mogador. The bazaar or "market" is
+reached from the street by deep flights of steps. It is open to the sky,
+and beyond it and above it is a street of houses, and a roadway along which
+flit now and again Eastern women with gay-coloured shawls over their heads.</p>
+
+<p>The "shops" of the market are built in little recesses. In these sit silent
+Oriental figures&mdash;the dealers. Most of the day's business is over. There
+are only a few loiterers, and the men and women who keep the little shops
+sit silent and emotionless as the Arabs among their unsold wares. In one
+shop the stock has been sold out and the proprietor is sitting in the gloom
+playing cards with a little party of men friends.</p>
+
+<p>It is a picture for Rembrandt. The only light in the arched recess which
+forms the shop is that of a candle. Round the candle are grouped
+half-a-dozen dark, weird-looking men, all intent upon the game.</p>
+
+<p>There is one card to be played. Uttering a little guttural cry, the man who
+holds it brings it down on the counter with a thud. The game the men are
+playing is one peculiar to these people. It is called Clabber-yas. The last
+card played, the ninth trump, adds ten points to the score and wins the
+game.</p>
+
+<p>And at that moment the distant church bells ring out to call the Christian
+worshippers to evening prayer.</p>
+
+<p>But the Sabbath evening does not find the Jews undevout. The darkness has
+fallen now, and we make our way back to the crowded streets of the old
+Ghetto. Here the long lines of lighted shops are now packed with their
+evening customers, who are buying meat and groceries and selecting
+furniture, being measured for new suits, trying on smart hats and cloaks of
+the latest West-end fashion, and examining the pink and blue and yellow
+silk petticoats which make such a gay show in the brilliantly-lighted
+windows of the milliners. We turn into a quiet street where the prevailing
+note is gloom, and, having secured the friendly escort of a Jewish
+clergyman's son, without whose presence we should hesitate to intrude, we
+pass through a dark doorway and find ourselves among a group of men whose
+features and whose occupations would have delighted the heart of Gustave
+Dor&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall, or ante-room, of the building are shelves packed with
+ancient-looking volumes&mdash;books of Rabbinic lore and law. Gathered together
+in groups are a number of Jews, young and old, who are standing around a
+desk at which an aged man with a long grey beard is reading a well-worn
+volume and explaining certain passages of it to the men who crowd about him
+and listen intently to his words.</p>
+
+<p>We are in the ante-room of a building which is known as the "Machazeke
+Hadass V'Shomrei Shabbas"&mdash;that is, "The Strengtheners of the Law and
+Guardians of the Sabbath." It is known officially as "The Spitalfields
+Great Synagogue." The members of it, almost all alien immigrants, comprise
+the ultra-orthodox section of the community. They have their own Chief
+Rabbi, their own Shechita Board (the board that controls the slaughtering
+of animals), and their own Beth Din (the court of justice). These pious
+Jews are distinguished by their scrupulous observance of the Sabbath as a
+day of rest. They will not even carry their handkerchief on the Sabbath day
+because it constitutes carrying a burden. That is forbidden, so they tie it
+round their waist as a girdle, where it becomes part of their clothing and
+so allowable. They will not carry an umbrella on the Sabbath, not only
+because it is a burden, but also because the putting up of an umbrella is
+considered equivalent to the erecting of a tent over the head. And they
+strictly obey the injunction which says neither thou nor thy servant shall
+do any manner of work on the Sabbath day. For what is absolutely necessary
+they employ an occasional servant, who is known as the "Shobbos Goy." They
+never give him a direct order for the performance of a household task, but
+they sometimes manage to evade the injunction. For instance, if it is
+bitterly cold and coals are wanted on the fire, they don't say, "Put more
+coals on." They shiver and rub their hands and say, "It is terribly cold."
+Then the Shobbos Goy takes the hint and makes the fire up.</p>
+
+<p>Let us linger for a moment among this strange group of devout Jews, few of
+whom can speak a word of English, though they are likely to pass the rest
+of their lives in our midst.</p>
+
+<p>The pious old man who is thumbing the book is displaying his Talmudic
+erudition to his hearers. The synagogue is open night and day, and this
+ante-room is always filled with reverent and intelligent loungers, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>
+listen to the exposition of the Talmud and occasionally discuss the affairs
+of the moment, for the alien Jew has brought with him the old custom of
+making the synagogue a meeting-place and a club.</p>
+
+<p>In the same room a number of men are swaying to and fro and repeating their
+prayers in the Oriental fashion. Everywhere there is a note that is a
+revelation to the Gentile visitor who is privileged to look upon the scene.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p421.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="&quot;IN THE SYNAGOGUE.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;IN THE SYNAGOGUE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The privilege is not easily gained, for these pious Jews, most of them from
+the lands of persecution and massacre, are still nervous and fearful. They
+have not yet learned the true meaning of English freedom, and the Alien
+Commission is to them a warning note of some new disaster that threatens.</p>
+
+<p>Passing from the Talmud school into the synagogue itself, you are startled
+to find the Royal Arms of England, elaborately carved and coloured,
+standing out boldly on the walls.</p>
+
+<p>The mystery is solved when we learn that this was originally a Huguenot
+chapel, owned by the French refugees who settled in Spitalfields after the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes. At one time the Huguenots were under
+special Royal favour, which may account for the display of the Royal Arms
+in their place of worship. The Jews acquired the building and converted it
+into a synagogue about ten years ago.</p>
+
+<p>The synagogue is only dimly lighted. Here and there a few worshippers are
+sitting in the pews repeating their prayers or reading a tattered volume.
+In one pew sits an old man writing by the aid of a tallow candle, which he
+has stuck on the little shelf in front of him. He is writing out one of the
+tiny scrolls which, encased in a capsule of tin or glass, forms the
+"Mezuzzah," the amulet which every orthodox Jew places on his doors; or
+perhaps the miniature manuscript is intended to be placed inside the
+"Tephillin"&mdash;that is, the phylacteries which are bound round the head and
+the left arm for the morning prayers. Remembering that the Mezuzzah and the
+Tephillin are direct Sinaitic ordinances, we look at the old man writing by
+the gleam of the candle in the gloomy synagogue with feelings of awe and
+reverence. Forty centuries ago the injunction was given in the far-off
+Eastern desert which the Hebrew exile is transcribing to-day in the heart
+of London.</p>
+
+<p>But, weird and mystic as the scene is, we do not care to linger. Already
+the uninvited presence of Christian strangers has attracted considerable
+attention, and the efforts of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> artist to sketch unobserved have brought
+about us a number of the pious and aged aliens, who consult together in
+Yiddish and eventually put forward a spokesman, who, in broken English,
+politely asks us what we want.</p>
+
+<p>We make our explanation and assure the head of the little deputation that
+we have no evil intent, and then as quickly as is consistent with dignity
+we make our way through the Talmud room, the readers and expounders and the
+aged men rocking to and fro in prayer, and pass out into the darkness of
+the night. On the step an old man stands and looks after us. The pale light
+coming through the open door falls upon his face and shows a deep scar that
+looks like a sabre cut. The old man is one of the survivors of the massacre
+of Kischineff.</p>
+
+<p>And now we are back again in the big trading streets, with the yellow blaze
+of gas and lamp oil showing up the bright costumes of young Jewesses who
+are on their way to balls and parties and even to theatrical performances,
+which are frequent Sunday features of this foreign land which is in London
+but not of it.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then through the packed streets dashes a carriage with a
+spanking pair of greys. Sunday is the day for weddings in the Ghetto. The
+white ribbon on the whip of the coachman catches the eye again and again,
+and always a little crowd turns to follow the vehicle and take up its
+station outside the Hall in which the marriage feast is being celebrated.
+These wedding carriages are to be seen making their way through the narrow
+streets in every direction. They are picking up the invited guests at their
+dwellings. As soon as one load has been deposited at the Hall, off the
+driver hurries in search of another.</p>
+
+<p>All is merriment within, and all is good temper and good order outside. The
+crowd blocks the pavement to listen and to make critical remarks on the
+toilettes of the guests as they arrive. One sharp turn out of the gay,
+crowded street and the scene is changed. Here everything is gloom, and in
+the gloom is a little group of slouching men and slatternly women loafing
+at the doors of dark, forbidding-looking houses.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 333px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p422.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="&quot;LOAFING AT THE DOORS OF DARK, FORBIDDING-LOOKING HOUSES.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;LOAFING AT THE DOORS OF DARK, FORBIDDING-LOOKING HOUSES.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We are in a quarter that has been rendered notorious by the revelations of
+coroners' inquests. This is a little bit of the Ghetto that the Jews have
+not yet taken from the Christians. It is the street of common
+lodging-houses where strange murders have been done. We pass quickly by the
+group of loafing tramps who have come out of the lodging-house kitchens to
+gossip, and make our way up a narrow, tortuous passage to another street of
+evil fame, where lodging-houses of the lowest class still remain. Battered
+wrecks of lost humanity, male and female, flit to and fro in the darkness.
+A woman pauses under the solitary lamp and we see that her face is bruised
+and her eyes are blackened. The door of one lodging-house stands ajar and
+the English tongue salutes our ears once more. It is not a welcome relief,
+for the sentiment of the words is foul and blasphemous. At the top of the
+court one comes again upon good buildings and light and a sound of childish
+merriment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> A number of little Jewish children are dancing a dance of their
+own in the lamplight.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p423.jpg" width="500" height="283" alt="&quot;A NUMBER OF LITTLE JEWISH CHILDREN ARE DANCING.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;A NUMBER OF LITTLE JEWISH CHILDREN ARE DANCING.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We pass out into a broad main thoroughfare, and still the shops are open
+and doing a brisk business. Here is a little restaurant with its bill of
+fare in Hebrew characters. We push the door ajar and enter, for we know
+that it was once the haunt of the Bessarabians, the formidable gang who had
+a standing vendetta with the Odessians, and who fought them not long ago
+outside the Yiddish theatre, the fray ending in a man being stabbed to
+death.</p>
+
+<p>The room we enter is lighted by a single jet of gas. There are only one or
+two young fellows sitting about and smoking cigarettes. The proprietor in
+his shirt sleeves stands behind the counter. At the end of the room is an
+opening covered with heavy curtains. Now and again a man enters, nods to
+the proprietor, and passes through them.</p>
+
+<p>We have ordered tea, for which we pay a penny a cup. The proprietor brings
+it himself, looks at us curiously, and I endeavour to allay his suspicion
+by speaking to him in German. He replies amiably, and I try to engage him
+in conversation. I ask him if the Bessarabians still use the house.</p>
+
+<p>His manner alters. He has heard of such people, but they never came to his
+establishment&mdash;never. I ask him if there is another restaurant beyond the
+curtain. Again he looks at me curiously.</p>
+
+<p>No, there is nothing beyond but his own dwelling rooms. I want to get
+behind those curtains; but I have not the password, and there is no chance.
+Some day I hope to be more fortunate. For this <i>caf&eacute;</i> was the meeting-place
+of the Bessarabians, one of the most dangerous gangs in the East-end, and
+behind those curtains you passed to a room which was a gambling den. There
+the quarrel took place which led to midnight murder at the corner of the
+dark street.</p>
+
+<p>We walk quietly away and in five minutes we are back upon the beaten track.
+Everywhere are closed shops and the calm of the Christian Sunday night. The
+householders pass on their homeward way. The sweethearts linger for a while
+before they part at the door, or separate to go each a different way.</p>
+
+<p>And though they are within a few minutes' walk of the strange scenes we
+have looked upon by turning a little way off the beaten track, most of
+these people are as ignorant of their existence as was the great French
+critic who came for the first time to London and was taken to Piccadilly
+Circus, was told that it was the famous Whitechapel&mdash;and believed it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Artists_and_Musicians" id="Artists_and_Musicians"></a><i>Artists and Musicians.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By S. K. Ludovic.</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The following collection of pictures, in each of which the artist has
+depicted an event in the lives of the great musicians, can open with
+nothing more suitably than with the charming picture of "The Child Handel,"
+by Margaret Dicksee. Handel's father strongly opposed the child's
+passionate love for music, and the more his great gifts developed the more
+severely was he forbidden to occupy himself with music. The little boy was
+obliged to have recourse to subterfuge, and when his elders believed him
+snug in bed he used to steal on tip-toe to the lumber-room, where he had
+discovered an old spinet, on which he played softly to his heart's content,
+alone and fancy-free. In one of these moments of enjoyment, when the divine
+genius spoke to the child, he forgot himself and played louder and
+louder&mdash;all the sound of the old spinet streamed through the silent night,
+waking the sleepers in the house, who believed that the angels were keeping
+vigil over the old town of Halle. But little George's father bethought
+himself of the musical propensities of the boy, and, as the latter was not
+to be found in his bed, the lantern was lit and a search-party followed
+where the music led them. Alas! Poor George was found, severely
+reprimanded, and dismissed to bed. The picture brings the scene so vividly
+before our minds that we are glad to know the sequel. George was not to be
+suppressed. A short time afterwards his father went to Weissenfels, where,
+in consequence of the presence of the music-loving Prince, many concerts
+were to be held. Little George knew this, and, as his father would not let
+him go, he ran after the coach so long that his parent was compelled to
+take him in. The Prince heard of the extraordinary child-musician, and,
+thanks to his intercession, Handel's father at last gave permission that
+his son should be taught music.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p424b.jpg" width="500" height="368" alt="&quot;THE CHILD HANDEL.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Margaret Dicksee.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE CHILD HANDEL.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Margaret Dicksee.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The next picture shows us Sebastian Bach, "the father of all music,"
+playing before Frederick the Great. The painter has chosen the moment when
+the King is giving Bach a theme on which to improvise. This theme, "a right
+royal one," as Bach called it, was afterwards worked out by him and sent
+back to the King, under the name of "A Musical Sacrifice." The King, who
+was himself a remarkable musician, had shown Bach the greatest
+appreciation, and this visit to Potsdam seems to have been one of the
+happiest events in Bach's life. Those who are inclined to regard Frederick,
+in his musical capacity, as no better than a <i>dilettante</i> flute-player
+would do well to remember that he was among the first to recognise and to
+encourage the genius of one of the greatest musicians of all time. Yet
+Bach's greater works remained in manuscript, and it was left to musicians
+of a later period&mdash;especially to Mendelssohn&mdash;to unearth and make them
+known to the world at large.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 373px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p425.jpg" width="373" height="500" alt="&quot;FREDERICK THE GREAT AND SEBASTIAN BACH.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;FREDERICK THE GREAT AND SEBASTIAN BACH.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another of our master-musicians, Haydn, unlike Bach, who never left his
+country, came to England, and reached in this country the summit of his
+renown. In the picture on the next page we see him on board ship. Well
+wrapped in his great-coat he stands on deck and seems to enjoy the
+sea-breezes, unconscious of the curiosity of the other passengers. He is
+wondering what will await him in that strange country across the sea. Will
+they understand him and the message he has to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> deliver to them: harmonies
+so pure and simple from a heart so kindly and a will so strong? And they
+did understand him in England; a glorious season of success awaited him.
+Sympathy met him everywhere, and in such fulness that on returning home to
+Austria he stopped at the little village of his birth and, kneeling at the
+threshold of his father's humble cottage, he thanked God for all the
+happiness which he had known in England.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p426.jpg" width="368" height="500" alt="&quot;HAYDN CROSSING TO ENGLAND.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1902, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HAYDN CROSSING TO ENGLAND.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1902, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In his wake followed another and a brighter star. When Haydn was at the
+zenith of his success all Germany began to talk of the little infant
+prodigy, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Our first Mozart picture shows him at the
+epoch of his life when he first fell in love. While on a visit to an uncle
+he met his fate in the shape of one of his youthful cousins, Aloysia Weber.
+The two sisters were pretty; the older, whom in the picture we see
+lingering in the other room, was full of kindness and sweet unselfishness,
+always putting forward the younger and more talented sister. Aloysia had a
+beautiful and well-trained voice, and could read a song at first sight.
+What was more natural than that the two young people who loved music should
+learn to love each other? Then came the parting hour. Mozart was compelled
+to go on one of his extensive tours. Two years passed by before he could
+return to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> Aloysia. She had, of course, vowed everlasting love; but,
+alas for the faithlessness, the vanity of woman! Wolfgang came back,
+faithful and loving as he had left, to find that Aloysia had grown into a
+very beautiful girl, who had tasted the joys of celebrity as a singer.
+Success had turned her head and she had nothing to say to the young
+musician, who was only on the road to make his fame, and she threw away a
+treasure which she was too ignorant to prize.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 385px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p427a.jpg" width="385" height="500" alt="&quot;MOZART AND ALOYSIA WEBER.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1902 by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MOZART AND ALOYSIA WEBER.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1902 by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p427b.jpg" width="500" height="359" alt="&quot;MOZART AND BEETHOVEN.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by A. Borckmann.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MOZART AND BEETHOVEN.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by A. Borckmann.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the next picture we see Mozart again when, at the height of his own
+fame, he listens to one who was destined to be greater even than
+himself&mdash;the young Beethoven. The young musician of sixteen asked him for a
+theme on which to improvise. Slowly the genius unfolded his wings; the
+simple theme seemed to grow to a mighty phrase, which was taken up by other
+voices as the harmony swelled under the fingers of the player who was
+destined to show the coming generations the power of music at its greatest.
+Mozart listened more and more attentively, his eyes fixed upon the young
+musician, his face wearing an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> almost reverential look under the spell of
+celestial inspiration, which came now like the rushing of a mighty wind.
+The music still went on. Beethoven had forgotten that he was not alone; but
+Mozart turned to his friends. "Listen!" he said. "And remember, of this
+young man the whole world will speak."</p>
+
+<p>Kaulbach, in his painting, "Mozart's Requiem," has immortalized the moment
+when fate cut short the life of Mozart. The fire of his genius, the
+never-ceasing, burning desire to embody the immortal inspirations which
+floated so richly in his brain, had "fretted the pigmy body to decay." Ill
+and depressed he was leaning back in his chair, when a stranger was
+announced, who asked him to compose a Requiem as full of dignity and beauty
+as his genius could conceive, a work which should be without an equal. He
+laid down a roll of a thousand ducats on Mozart's table and went away
+without disclosing his name, saying only that he would call again. Then the
+master collected his last strength, and a sublime effort resulted in the
+unique work, before which the world still stands in awe and reverence. He
+felt from the first moment that he was writing his own Requiem.</p>
+
+<p>The work was finished and now he wished to hear it. Too weak to stir from
+his room, he summoned his friends to perform the Requiem before him. They
+came and he listened, still and happy, to those mighty strains of sadness;
+and, so listening, his own soul flew to Heaven. This is the scene of
+Kaulbach's picture.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p428.jpg" width="500" height="380" alt="&quot;THE LAST HOUR OF MOZART.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by H. Kaulbach.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133 New Bond Street,
+London, W." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE LAST HOUR OF MOZART.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by H. Kaulbach.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133 New Bond Street,
+London, W.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The well-known and well-beloved "Moonlight Sonata," whose power and beauty
+will delight for ages, is the subject of the very pretty story depicted on
+the next page. It is said that Beethoven passed, in the course of one of
+his rambling walks, a lonely street in the suburbs of Vienna, and heard
+from an open window the strains of his own music. The music came from a
+room on the ground floor, and when he approached he saw a young girl
+sitting at the piano and a child listening to her, huddled up on a chair
+near by. Impulsive as he was, he at once entered, saying, "I know that
+piece. What makes you play it? Does it please you?" "I love all Beethoven's
+compositions,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> said the young girl in a sweet, quiet voice, without
+showing any surprise at being thus interrupted by a stranger. But the child
+came quickly towards him, saying, "My sister is blind, and music is her
+only joy. What is it you want, sir?" With that peculiar directness which
+was so characteristic of his nature, he simply said, "I wish to play to
+you. I am Beethoven." Then the two girls settled themselves joyfully to
+listen. The moon had risen, the street was silent, the tears glistened in
+the blind eyes of the elder girl&mdash;and then came the wonderful mysterious
+song of that Adagio in C sharp minor, which rose and fell and soared again
+to Heaven. Such revelation of human feeling strained the nerves of these
+two young beings almost beyond endurance. A slight pause, and the graces of
+the Minuet played around them, soothed them, brushed the tears away, and
+spoke of life and youth and gladness. And then it sang on&mdash;another rushing
+storm&mdash;and melody after melody followed, and wildest outbreak of the
+Titan's own rugged nature, and then it cleared up into majestic
+strength&mdash;imposing chords of greatness&mdash;then silence. Beethoven turned and
+went as he had come, and long after he gave to the world what he saw and
+felt before these two lonely children.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p429a.jpg" width="500" height="323" alt="&quot;THE MOONLIGHT SONATA.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Ernst Oppler.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1900, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE MOONLIGHT SONATA.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Ernst Oppler.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1900, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 382px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p429b.jpg" width="382" height="500" alt="&quot;BEETHOVEN AND GOETHE IN TEPLITZ.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;BEETHOVEN AND GOETHE IN TEPLITZ.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The picture entitled "Beethoven and Goethe in Teplitz" illustrates an
+episode which shows Beethoven in the company of Germany's greatest poet,
+for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration. Beethoven's was a proud nature,
+and he sometimes showed his pride in a manner which had nothing in common
+with the smooth and polished manners of the aristocratic society in which
+he and Goethe were wont to move.</p>
+
+<p>Beethoven and Goethe met at Teplitz, a Bohemian watering-place much
+frequented by Royalties and aristocratic society. They were walking
+together, when the Emperor and Empress and their suite came towards them.
+Goethe, standing still, hat in hand, bowed almost to the ground, as it is
+customary on the Continent. Beethoven pressed his hat tighter on his head,
+let go Goethe's arm, and tried to elbow his way through the crowd; but the
+Empress had seen him and greeted him smilingly as she passed on, whilst
+Goethe received only the courtesy accorded to every unknown person. This is
+the moment shown us by the artist. The expression of surprise in the faces
+of the Royal visitors at Goethe's obsequious politeness, the indulgent
+smiles which follow the irate Beethoven, are very amusing.</p>
+
+<p>Franz Schubert is the creator of the German "Lied." He was the first who
+gave this kind of music a deeper meaning and a more elevated form, and,
+guided by his dramatic instinct, produced such masterpieces as the
+"Erlking" and the "M&uuml;ller-lieder." The singer is surprised to find most of
+these songs written in a very high key, and before somebody had taken the
+trouble to transpose them this was, even in Germany, a drawback to their
+popularity. The reason was as follows. One of Schubert's best friends was a
+very popular singer in Vienna, and his tenor voice was of an exceptional
+compass. Schubert wrote most of his songs for him. The painter has had the
+happy idea of giving us a portrait of this man in the act of singing, while
+Schubert himself is playing the accompaniment. The young lady who stands at
+the other side of the piano is probably the girl of whom Schubert said: "I
+loved once a girl, she was not beautiful&mdash;but, oh, so kind-hearted, good,
+and loving! And she sang my songs with a most beautiful soprano voice. We
+loved each other for three years, and we were happy. Then I had to give her
+up. I could never succeed in getting a post which would have enabled me to
+marry. I had no right to prevent her from marrying a man who could give her
+a home and make her happy." It is sad that a man whom we acknowledge as one
+of the greatest of musicians should be compelled to give up every thought
+of the happiness which comes to even the simplest worker in another field.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p430.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="&quot;SCHUBERT AND HIS FRIENDS.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+Copyright, 1903, by Photographische Gesellschaft." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SCHUBERT AND HIS FRIENDS.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by Carl R&ouml;hling.<br />
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.<br />
+
+Copyright, 1903, by Photographische Gesellschaft.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next painting illustrates a romantic <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span>episode of Schumann's life. In
+1836 Robena Laidlaw, though only sixteen, was Court pianist of the Queen of
+Hanover, and her fame had already spread over Germany, England, and Russia.
+She played his music for him, followed his inspirations, and rejoiced at
+the flights of his genius. They had tasted to the full the delight of
+understanding each other in the beautiful language of music.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p431a.jpg" width="500" height="388" alt="&quot;SCHUMANN AND ROBENA LAIDLAW.&quot;
+
+From the Water-Colour Drawing by J. Raabe." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SCHUMANN AND ROBENA LAIDLAW.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Water-Colour Drawing by J. Raabe.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>One day they were wandering in the Rosenau&mdash;the rose-gardens of Leipzig.
+The time of parting had come. His life and hers were unsettled and full of
+plans and ambitions. She was to start for Paris the next day, and to go
+from there to Russia to play before the Czar and the Imperial Court. Did
+they realize their own feelings at the moment, or know how much akin such
+friendship is to love?</p>
+
+<p>He arranged the cushions around her in the little boat upon the lake and
+bade her wait for him; he would bring her a rose as a parting gift. She had
+long to wait, and when he came at last he said, with that melancholy
+expression which, even in his younger years, was already his: "I searched
+so long and could after all only find a rose which is not worthy of you.
+But I will send you a remembrance of the Rosenau."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p431b.jpg" width="450" height="442" alt="ROBENA LAIDLAW.
+
+From a Painting." title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBENA LAIDLAW.<br />
+
+From a Painting.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Surfeited with the triumphs which fall naturally to the share of a great
+artiste and a beautiful girl, Robena found, on returning from a State
+concert at St. Petersburg, among many costly gifts of jewels and flowers
+which awaited her, a simple roll of music with the German postmark. It
+contained the twelve <i>Phantasiest&uuml;cke</i> which are now reckoned among the
+most poetical and beautiful of Schumann's works. He wrote: "I have not
+asked, before sending<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> them to the printer's, your permission to dedicate
+these pieces to you. They are yours, and I hope you will accept them. The
+whole Rosenau with all its romance is in them. Forget me not, and send me
+your portrait soon, as you promised."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p432.jpg" width="500" height="427" alt="&quot;WAGNER IN HIS HOME AT WAHNFRIED.&quot;
+
+From the Picture by W. Beckmann.
+
+By permission of Rud. Ibach Soln, owners of the Original." title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WAGNER IN HIS HOME AT WAHNFRIED.&quot;<br />
+
+From the Picture by W. Beckmann.<br />
+
+By permission of Rud. Ibach Soln, owners of the Original.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Wasielewski tells in his "Schumanniana" that he heard him once, shortly
+before his last illness, playing in the twilight, as he loved to do.
+Melodies full of tender beauty floated around; the exquisite piece "des
+Abends," the first of the <i>Phantasiest&uuml;cke</i>; then reminiscences of "des
+Nachts," wild and desperate, as if haunted by loneliness and terror; and
+then again the sweet and tender song of the evening's silent longing. The
+listener outside the door felt his heart nearly burst with emotion, but
+Schumann shut the piano immediately when the door was opened, and no
+allusion to what had passed was possible. Had he returned in this lonely
+moment to the memories of youth? Was it a last and loving greeting to the
+past?</p>
+
+<p>The great composer who gave so much to the world is long laid to rest in
+the cemetery of Bonn, and the waves of the Rhine sing his eternal
+slumber-song, but the <i>Phantasiest&uuml;cke</i> will live on, and sing of the
+romance which was never told in words.</p>
+
+<p>Robena Laidlaw died only two years ago in London. Among the many souvenirs
+of this brilliant artiste's career was found a withered rose, and written
+by her on a leaflet: "Schumann gave me this rose at the Rosenau, 1836."</p>
+
+<p>Beckmann's picture represents the last of the epoch-making musicians,
+Richard Wagner. We see him discussing "Parsifal," his last and grandest
+work, with his wife and his two faithful friends, Liszt and Hans von
+Wolzogen. Wagner was then already living in his own beautiful home in
+Bayreuth, surrounded by the luxuries he so dearly loved, having as
+companion the woman who understood him best. His battle had been hard, but
+his ultimate conquest was decisive, and we may feel contented in the hope
+that culture is in our days so widespread and advanced that genius is but
+rarely exposed to pay with a life of misery for the halo of its greatness.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p>
+<p><a name="The_Owner_of_the_Patriarch" id="The_Owner_of_the_Patriarch"></a></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p433.jpg" width="550" height="321" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>If anyone cares to look up the <i>Patriarch</i> in Lloyd's List it will be
+discovered that the owner of her was T. Tyser, but it matters very little
+whether she was built of heavier plating than the rules required, or
+whether she was cemented or built under special survey or what not. For T.
+Tyser, otherwise Mr. Thomas Tyser, was not only the owner of the
+<i>Patriarch</i>, but also the owner of a dozen other vessels all beginning with
+a "P." He was, moreover, the owner of a large block of land in the heart of
+Melbourne; he had several streets, of which the biggest was Tyser Street,
+S.E., in London, and his banking account was certainly of heavier metal
+than he had any personal use for. He was a rough dog from the north
+country, and in the course of half a century's fight in London he came out
+top dog in his own line and was more or less of a millionaire.</p>
+
+<p>"And he's my uncle," said Geordie Potts; "his sister was my mother, and
+here I am before the stick in one of his old wind-jammers and gettin'
+two-pun-ten in this here <i>Patriarch</i> of his, and hang me if I believe the
+old bloke has another relation in the world. It's hard lines, mates&mdash;it's
+hard lines. Don't you allow it's hard lines?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Sunday morning in the south-east trades, and every sail was drawing
+"like a bally droring-master," as Geordie once said, and the "crowd" of the
+<i>Patriarch</i> were all fairly easy in their minds and ready for a discussion.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>If</i> so be you are 'is nevvy, as you state," said the port watch,
+cautiously, "we allow it's hard lines."</p>
+
+<p>"I've stated it frequent," said Geordie, "and it's the truth, the whole
+truth, and nothin' but it, so help me. D'ye think I'd claim to be old
+Tyser's sister's son if I wasn't? I'd scorn to claim it."</p>
+
+<p>"Any man would scorn to be Tyser's sister's son," said the starboard watch.
+"He'd scorn to be 'im unless he was, for Tyser's a mean old dog, ain't he,
+Geordie?"</p>
+
+<p>Geordie thanked his watch-mates for backing him up so.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, chaps. There's no meaner in the north of England&mdash;or the
+south, for that matter&mdash;and the way this ship's found is scandalous."</p>
+
+<p>"The grub's horrid," said both watches.</p>
+
+<p>"And look at the gear," said Geordie; "everything ready to part a deal
+easier than my uncle is. I never lays hold of a halliard but I'm thinking
+I'll go on my back if I pulls heavy. Oh, it's a fair scandal!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He considered the scandal soberly and with some sadness.</p>
+
+<p>"He might leave you some dibs, Geordie," suggested his mate, Jack Braby.
+"He might, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a solitary dime," said Geordie. "Him and me quarrelled because my
+father fought him in the street, and I hit the old hunks with a bit of a
+brick because he got my dad down."</p>
+
+<p>"Wot was the row about?" asked the others, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' to speak of," said Geordie. "My old man said he was a bloodsucker,
+and that led to words. And I never hurt him to speak of. And yet I've
+shipped in one of his ships, and am as poor as he's rich. He allowed none
+of us would get a farthing; he shouted it out in the market-place and said
+hospitals would get it, because one of his skippers that he'd sacked cut
+him up awful with a staysail hank, and they sewed him very neat at one of
+'em."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothin' so good in a fight as a staysail 'ank," said Jack Braby,
+contemplatively. "I cut a policeman all to rags wiv one once."</p>
+
+<p>"Was that the time you done three months' 'ard?" asked the port watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Six," said Braby, proudly; "and I told the beak I could do it on my 'ead.
+But, Geordie, if you was owner yourself what would you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, wot?" asked the rest.</p>
+
+<p>Geordie shook his head and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd make my ships such that sailormen would be wantin' to pay to go in
+'em," said Geordie. "I've laid awake thinkin' of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, tell us," said all hands, with as much unanimity as if they were
+tailing on to the halliards under the stimulus of "Give us some time to
+blow the man down." "Tell us, Geordie."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd be friends with all my men, for one thing," said Geordie, "and I'd not
+have a single Dutchman in a ship of mine."</p>
+
+<p>The three "Dutchmen" on board, one of whom was a Swede, another a German,
+and the third a Finn, shifted uneasily on their chests, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"And not a Dago," continued the "owner," "and I'd give double wages and
+grog three times a day and tobacco thrown in. And the cook shouldn't be a
+hash-spoiler, but what Frenchies call a <i>chef</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"We never heard of that. How d'ye spell it, Geordie?"</p>
+
+<p>"S&mdash;H&mdash;E&mdash;double F," said Geordie; "and it means a man that is known not to
+spoil vittles, as most sea-cooks does, by the very look of him. And when it
+was wet or cold the galley fire should be alight all night. And the skipper
+and the mates should be told by me, and told very stern, that if they
+vallied their billets a continental they'd behave like gents and not cuss
+too much. And there shouldn't be no 'working up,' and any officer of mine
+that was dead on 'dry pulls' on the halliards should have the sack quick.
+And every time a ship of mine came into dock I'd be there, and I'd see what
+the crowd's opinion was of the skipper and the mates. Oh, I'd make my ship
+a Paradise, I would!"</p>
+
+<p>Most of the men nodded approval, but Braby wasn't quite satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"And would there be grog every time of shortenin' sail, Geordie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course," said Geordie, "and every time you made sail too."</p>
+
+<p>But an old seaman shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis mighty fine, mates, to 'ear Geordie guff as to what 'e'd do," he
+growled, "but I ain't young and I've seed men get rich, and they wasn't in
+the least what they allowed they'd be. Geordie 'ere is one of hus now, and
+'e feels where the shoe pinches; but if so be 'e got rotten with money 'e'd
+be for calling sailormen swine as like as not. And 'e'd wear a topper."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a liar; I wouldn't," roared Geordie.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I am a liar," said the old chap, "but I've seen what I've looked at.
+If you was to learn as your uncle was dead now, you'd go aft and set about
+on the poop and see hus doin' pulley-hauley, with a seegar in your teeth.
+Riches spoils a man, and it can't be helped; it 'as to, somehow. I've no
+fault to find with you now, Geordie Potts; for so young a man you're a good
+seaman and a good shipmate (though you <i>'ave</i> called me a liar), but you
+take my word for it, money would make an 'og of you."</p>
+
+<p>And here was matter for high debate which lasted all through the trades,
+through the horse latitudes, and into the region of the brave west winds
+till the <i>Patriarch</i> had made more than half her casting.</p>
+
+<p>"So I'm to be a mean swab and a real swine when I'm rich," said Geordie.
+"Oh, well, have it your own way. There's times some of you makes me feel
+I'd like to make you sit up."</p>
+
+<p>"'Ear, 'ear," said the old fo'c's'le man; "there's the very 'aughty
+richness workin' in his mind, shipmates. What'll the real thing do if 'is
+huncle pegs out sudden?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was curious to note that a certain subdued hostility rose up between
+most of the men and Geordie. They sat apart and discussed him. Even Jack
+Braby threw out dark and melancholy hints that they wouldn't be chums any
+more if old Tyser's money came to his nephew. There were at times faint
+suggestions that Geordie was getting touched with his possible prosperity.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll live ashore and have a public-house," said Geordie Potts.</p>
+
+<p>And they picked up Cape Otway light in due time, and ran through Port
+Phillip Heads by-and-by, and came to an anchor off Sandridge. Presently
+they berthed alongside the pier and began to discharge their cargo; and one
+hot day went by like another, till they were empty and began to fill up
+again with wool. In six weeks they were almost ready for sea once more. And
+the very night before they hauled out from their berth and lay at anchor in
+the bay, Geordie went ashore at six o'clock "all by his lonesome," as he
+and Jack Braby had fought over the job which Braby was to get from his mate
+when old Tyser died intestate. And as he got to the end of the pier he met
+a young clerk from the agent's office who knew him by sight.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, I'm in a great hurry," said the boy; "my girl's waiting for me.
+Will you take these letters to Captain Smith, or I'll miss my train back?
+I'll give you a bob."</p>
+
+<p>"Righto!" said Geordie; and he pouched the shilling and the letters, and
+the young fellow ran for his train.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 383px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p435.jpg" width="383" height="550" alt="&quot;&#39;JERUSH,&#39; SAID GEORDIE, &#39;THIS CAN&#39;T BE ME!&#39;&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;JERUSH,&#39; SAID GEORDIE, &#39;THIS CAN&#39;T BE ME!&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"The letters can wait," said Geordie Potts, "but the bob can't, and I've
+five more besides. Jack might have had his whack out of it if he hadn't
+wanted to be my manager when he ain't fit for it."</p>
+
+<p>He put the letters into his pocket and made his way to the Sandridge Arms,
+where he sat and drank by himself. It was seven o'clock, and he was by then
+tolerably "full," before it occurred to him to see if he still had the
+letters. He took them out, and the very first his eyes lighted on was one
+in a long envelope addressed to</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">George Potts, Esq.</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">c/o Captain Smith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Patriarch</i>."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Jerush," said Geordie, "this can't be me! 'Esq.' is what they puts after
+names of gents. Even the skipper don't have it after his."</p>
+
+<p>He fingered the long envelope and took another drink to consider the matter
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"Snakes! it must be me," he said, as he drew confidence out of his glass;
+"there's no other Potts but me."</p>
+
+<p>He was over-full by now, and he opened the letter and began to read it:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By all that's living," said Geordie, "me 'my dear sir'!"</p>
+
+<p>He went on reading:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Sir</span>,&mdash;We regret to inform you of the sudden death of your uncle,
+Mr. Thomas Tyser, on the 10th instant. He left no will, and you, as the
+next of kin and heir-at-law, are entitled to all his real and personal
+estate, which is, as you are doubtless aware, very large.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> According to our
+present estimate it will amount to at least half a million sterling, and as
+we have been his legal advisers for the last twenty years and know all his
+affairs we can assure you that with proper management of certain
+undertakings at present in our hands, it may be much more than our
+estimate. In order that you may return at once we enclose you a draft on
+the Union Bank of Australia for two hundred pounds, and have instructed
+Captain Smith to give you your discharge, which he will, of course, do at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>"We hope, as we have been so long in the confidence of Mr. Tyser, that you
+will see no reason to complain of our care of your interests.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i13">"We are, my dear sir,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i13">"Your obedient servants,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i13">"<span class="smcap">Thomas Wiggs and Co.</span>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"My stars!" said Geordie. And he stared aghast at a square piece of paper,
+which he had reason to believe represented two hundred pounds. "My stars!
+what a pot o' money!"</p>
+
+<p>He gasped and took another drink.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the owner of the <i>Patriarch</i>," he said, and grasping all the letters
+and his two-hundred-pound draft he rammed them down into the bottom of his
+inside breast-pocket. "I'm the owner of&mdash;hic&mdash;the&mdash;hic&mdash;<i>Patriarch</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He came out of his corner and went to the bar.</p>
+
+<p>"Gimme a drink&mdash;an expensive drink, one that'll cost five bob," he demanded
+of the barman.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better have a bottle o' brandy," said the barman.</p>
+
+<p>"I wants the best."</p>
+
+<p>"This is Hennessy's forty star brandy," said the liar behind the bar.
+"There's no better in the world."</p>
+
+<p>And Geordie retreated with the bottle to his corner and took a long drink
+of a poisonous compound which contained as much insanity in it as a small
+lunatic asylum. He came back to the bar presently and told the barman that
+he was a millionaire.</p>
+
+<p>"I own half Newcastle and a lot of Bourke Street, Melbourne, and a baker's
+dozen of ships, and lumps of London!" said Geordie.</p>
+
+<p>"Lend me a thousand pounds till to-morrow," said the barman.</p>
+
+<p>"I like you&mdash;hic&mdash;I'll do it," said Geordie, and with that he fell headlong
+and forgot his wealth. They dragged him outside on the veranda and let him
+lie in the cool of the evening. He was picked up there two hours later by
+Jack Braby and some of the starboard watch and taken on board.</p>
+
+<p>"He let on he was a millionaire," said the barman, contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>Braby shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, he's liable to allow that when he's full, sir," said Braby.</p>
+
+<p>But that fatal bottle kept Geordie Potts wholly insensible till they were
+outside the Heads again and on their way to England, with the smoke of the
+tug-boat far astern. And presently the second mate, Mr. Brose, who was a
+very rough sort of dog, and had sweated his way up to his present exalted
+rank from that of a foremast hand, hauled Geordie out by the collar of his
+coat, and had him brought to by means of a bucketful of nice Bass's Straits
+water. Geordie gasped like a dying dolphin, but came to rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll teach you to get drunk, you swab," said Brose. "Take them wet things
+off and turn to."</p>
+
+<p>And Geordie obeyed like a child in the presence of <i>force majeure</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've got a head," he told his mates, "and it seems to me that I had a
+most extraordinary dream."</p>
+
+<p>"Wot did you dream of, old Cocklywax?" asked Braby; "did you dream you'd
+come in for old Tyser's money?"</p>
+
+<p>And Geordie gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"S'help me," he murmured. "S'help me, did I dream?"</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his marline-spike as if it were red hot and made a break for the
+fo'c's'le and his wet coat.</p>
+
+<p>"Now if so be I dreamed," he said, "there'll be naught in this pocket. And
+if I didn't, I'm jiggered."</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand in and brought out a handful of damp and crushed letters,
+and came out upon deck staggering. Mr. Brose saw him, and was on his tracks
+like a fish-hawk on a herring-gull. Geordie saw him coming and stood
+open-mouthed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir," said Geordie. "Oh, sir&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, rot," said Brose; "what's your little shenanakin game? Get to work, or
+I'll have you soused till you're half dead."</p>
+
+<p>But Geordie could explain nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir," he stammered, and held up his papers, shaking them feebly. And
+Brose shook him, anything but feebly, so that Geordie's teeth chattered.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, sir," he cried out at last, "if you please, sir, don't. I
+owns her."</p>
+
+<p>"You owns wot?" demanded Brose; and the rest of the men edged as near as
+they dared.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 369px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p437.jpg" width="369" height="500" alt="&quot;BROSE SHOOK HIS MATE ONCE MORE.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;BROSE SHOOK HIS MATE ONCE MORE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"He's drunk still," said Braby, as Brose shook his mate once more.</p>
+
+<p>"I owns the bally <i>Patriarch</i>," screamed Geordie, "and all the rest of 'em,
+and all my uncle's richness, and I won't be shook, I won't!"</p>
+
+<p>And Brose let him go.</p>
+
+<p>"You're mad," said Brose, "you're mad."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't," roared Geordie, who was fast recovering from the shock, "I
+ain't. Take these; read 'em&mdash;read 'em out; let the skipper read 'em. I owns
+the <i>Patriarch</i> and the <i>Palermo</i> and the <i>Proosian</i> and the whole line.
+The lawyer says so!"</p>
+
+<p>He put the lot of damp letters into Mr. Brose's hands and sat down on the
+spare top-mast lashed under the rail.</p>
+
+<p>"There's letters for the captain 'ere," said Brose, suspiciously; "'ow did
+you get 'em?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas a youngster from the office give 'em me," replied Geordie, "and I
+took a drink first, and there was one for me, and it said so&mdash;said I was
+the owner, said it plain."</p>
+
+<p>And when Brose had read the opened letter he gasped too and went aft to see
+the skipper. The rest of the watch gathered round Geordie and spoke in
+awe-struck whispers.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true, Geordie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gospel," said Geordie. "It's swore to. They sends me two hundred quid in a
+paper."</p>
+
+<p>"Show us," said the starbowlines, "show us."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis in the paper the second has," said Geordie. "It's wrote, 'Pay George
+Potts, Esq., two hundred quid on the nail.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd never 'ave let the second 'ave it," said Braby. "Like as not 'e'll
+keep it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll sack him," said Geordie, firmly. "Let him dare try to keep it,
+and I'll sack him and not pay him no wages."</p>
+
+<p>"This is a very strange game, this is," said Braby. "I never 'eard tell of
+the likes. Did they put 'Esk' on your letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"They done so," said Geordie. "I've seen uncle's letters and they done so
+to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it must be true," said Braby. "They only puts 'Esk' on gents'
+letters."</p>
+
+<p>And Williams, the steward, was observed coming for'ard scratching his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Where the deuce am I?" asked Williams, "and wot's the game? I'm sent by
+the captain to say, 'Will Mr. Potts step into the cabin?'"</p>
+
+<p>They all looked at Geordie.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Potts? Why, that's you, Geordie."</p>
+
+<p>"I s'pose it must be," said the owner. "Must I go, mates?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," cried Braby.</p>
+
+<p>But Geordie fidgeted.</p>
+
+<p>"I could go in if we were painting of her cabin," he murmured; "but to talk
+with the skipper&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>That evidently disgruntled him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis your own cabin any'ow," said Braby. "I'd walk in like a lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I s'pose I must," said Geordie, reluctantly, and he went aft with
+Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"And you're the owner?" asked Williams.</p>
+
+<p>Geordie sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"So it seems, stooard," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"It licks creation," said Williams.</p>
+
+<p>"So it does," said Geordie, and the next moment he found himself announced
+as "Mr. Potts," and he stood before the captain with his cap in his hand,
+looking as if he was about to be put in irons for mutiny; but, as a matter
+of fact, the old skipper was a deal more nervous than he was.</p>
+
+<p>"This seems all correct, Mr. Potts," said Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it, sir?" asked Geordie. "I'm very sorry, sir, but it ain't my fault,
+sir. I never meant&mdash;at least, I never allowed my uncle would do it, because
+my father, sir, said he was a bloodsucker, and they fought, and I hit uncle
+with a brick, sir, to make him let go of father's beard."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, to be sure," said the captain, nervously, "but I'm thinking what
+to do. It's a very anomalous situation for you to be here, Potts&mdash;Mr.
+Potts, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>But Geordie held up his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd <i>much</i> rather be Potts, sir, thanking you all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't do it," replied the skipper. "I was thinking that you might
+like me to put back to Melbourne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wot for, sir?" demanded the owner.</p>
+
+<p>"So that you could go home in a P. and O. boat," said old Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanking you kindly, sir," replied Geordie, "I'd rather stay in the
+<i>Patriarch</i>. I don't like steamers and never did."</p>
+
+<p>He had a vague notion that the skipper wanted him to go home before the
+mast in one.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you wish me not to put back, Mr. Potts?" said Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd very much rather not, sir," replied Geordie. "I'm very happy here,
+sir, and takin' it all round the <i>Patriarch's</i> a comfortable ship, sir. May
+I go for'ard now, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>He made a step for the cabin door.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said old Smith, "you mustn't; you must have a berth
+here and be a passenger."</p>
+
+<p>The skipper's obvious nervousness was not without its effect upon the new
+owner. For old Smith knew that if he lost his present billet he was not
+likely to find another one, and he had nothing saved to speak of. So
+somehow, and without knowing why, Geordie, without being in the least
+disrespectful, was more decided in his answer than he would have been if
+the "old man" had showed himself as hard and severe as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Not me," said Geordie, "not me, sir; I wouldn't and I couldn't. I'd be
+that uncomfortable&mdash;oh, a passenger, good evings, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"But bein' owner you <i>can't</i> stay for'ard," urged the skipper.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I can, sir," said Geordie; "I'd prefer it."</p>
+
+<p>Smith sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"If you prefer it, of course you must. But if you change your mind you'll
+let me know."</p>
+
+<p>"Right&mdash;I will, sir," said Geordie.</p>
+
+<p>The skipper walked with him to the cabin door.</p>
+
+<p>"And if you don't want to work, Mr. Potts, I dare say we can get on without
+your services, though we shall miss them," he said, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't lie about and do nix," replied Geordie. "I'd die of it."</p>
+
+<p>And away he went for'ard, while the skipper and Mr. Brose and Mr. Ware,
+waked out of his watch below to hear the extraordinary news, discussed the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p>"And 'ave I to call 'im Mr. Potts?" asked Brose, with a pathetic air of
+disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"I say so," replied the skipper. "I can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> afford, Brose, as you know, to
+lose this job. And old Tyser promised me a kind of marine superintendent's
+billet when I left the <i>Patriarch</i>, and I dessay this young chap will act
+decent about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm fair knocked," replied Ware. "I'm jolly glad that he ain't in my
+watch. This is hard lines on you, Brose."</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Mr. Potts, will you be so good has to be so kind has to be
+so hobliging as to go and over'aul the gear on the main," piped Brose, in
+furious mockery, "Oh, this is 'ard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Far from it," said old Smith; "you ought to be proud. It ain't every
+second mate has a millionaire owner in his watch."</p>
+
+<p>But Brose was sullen.</p>
+
+<p>"You mark me, this josser won't do no 'and's turn that 'e don't like."</p>
+
+<p>And for'ard the crowd said the same. As a result, for at least ten days
+Geordie Potts worked very well indeed. But, of course, Brose, under the
+skipper's orders, gave him all the soft jobs that were going. The second
+mate got into a mode of exaggerated courtesy which was almost painful.</p>
+
+<p>"Be so good, Mr. Potts, as to put a nice, neat Matthew Walker on this 'ere
+lanyard."</p>
+
+<p>Or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Potts, please be kind enough to go aloft and stop that spilling line
+to the jack-stay."</p>
+
+<p>And at meal times the port watch mimicked Brose.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Mr. Potts, howner, be so good as to heat this 'orrid 'ash without
+growling."</p>
+
+<p>And presently, when the weather began to get cold and the men brought out
+their Cape Horn pea-jackets and their mitts, Geordie commenced to growl a
+little.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 315px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p439.jpg" width="315" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;IF YOU DON&#39;T WANT TO WORK, MR. POTTS, I DARESAY WE CAN GET
+ON WITHOUT YOUR SERVICES,&#39; HE SAID.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;IF YOU DON&#39;T WANT TO WORK, MR. POTTS, I DARESAY WE CAN GET
+ON WITHOUT YOUR SERVICES,&#39; HE SAID.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I hates turnin' out in the gravy-eye watch worse and worse," he said.
+"I've half a mind to let on I'm sick."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better go haft and tell the old man to 'ave the galley fire kep'
+alight all night," said the crowd, crossly. "But you dasn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I dast," said Geordie; "why, I owns the bally galley!"</p>
+
+<p>"You dasn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Geordie. And next morning he went aft and touched his cap to
+the skipper and begged to be allowed to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>"The galley fire at night?" said Smith. "Oh, certainly, Mr. Potts. I never
+done it because it was against the horders of your late revered huncle,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>"He was as mean as mean," said Geordie; "I think I can afford the fire,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>The fire was lighted and the crowd said Geordie was the right sort.</p>
+
+<p>"And wot about the gear, Mr. Howner?" asked Jack Braby. "If I was you,
+before it gets too rotten cold I'd 'ave a real over'aulin' of things."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll think of it," said Geordie. And that very afternoon he tackled Brose.</p>
+
+<p>"The gear's tolerable rotten, sir," he began. And the second greaser knew
+he was right and yet didn't like to say so. He yearned to curse him. "And
+I'm thinkin'," said Geordie, "it would be a good thing to get up new stuff
+and overhaul everything. I risks my life every time I goes aloft. The very
+reef earings would part if a schoolgirl yanked at 'em."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You'd better speak to Mr. Ware," said Brose, choking.</p>
+
+<p>And at eight bells Geordie spoke to the chief officer, who was quite as
+anxious as the skipper to keep his billet.</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be done, Mr. Potts," said Ware.</p>
+
+<p>In the first watch that night Geordie felt very tired, and said so. When it
+was eight bells in the middle watch he was still asleep, or pretended to
+be.</p>
+
+<p>"Rouse out, howner," said Braby, and he shook Geordie up.</p>
+
+<p>"I feels tolerable ill," said Geordie; "I don't think I shall turn out."</p>
+
+<p>He didn't, and the rest of the port watch went on deck by themselves. At
+the muster Mr. Potts didn't answer to his name.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Potts is hill, sir," said the obsequious watch; "'e said 'e couldn't
+turn out."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it would come soon," said Brose to himself. And he went for'ard
+to the fo'c's'le.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you <i>very</i> ill?" he asked, drily.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know quite how I feel," said the owner, "but I thinks a little
+drop of brandy would do me good."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could poison it," said Brose, under his voice. "This is most
+'umiliatin' to a man in the persition of an officer."</p>
+
+<p>By noon Geordie was well enough to sit on deck and smoke a pipe. The "old
+man" came to see him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you like a berth aft now, Mr. Potts?" urged the skipper.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll think about it, captain," said Geordie. "And in the meantime I don't
+think I'll turn to."</p>
+
+<p>The skipper turned to Brose.</p>
+
+<p>"We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certingly," said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great
+Pacific.</p>
+
+<p>From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his
+trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do
+that no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage, I'll double your
+wages," he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning
+Geordie went to the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather
+poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency such a thing is next
+door to gross insubordination at sea.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't goin' to take no more wheels," said Geordie. "And Braby will take
+mine. I've doubled his wages."</p>
+
+<p>Even old Smith gasped. As for Brose, he felt sea-sick for the first time
+since he first went down Channel in an outward-bounder thirty years before.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make a note of it," said the skipper.</p>
+
+<p>They shortened sail in a quick flurry of a gale out of the south-west later
+in the day, and as all the topsails were down on the cap at once it was
+"jump," and no mistake. As an act of kindly condescension the owner went to
+the wheel and shoved away the Dutchman there, who was congratulating
+himself on not being on a topsail yard.</p>
+
+<p>"Get aloft, you Dutch swab," said Geordie; "I'll take her for you."</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Ware bellowed like a bull, for he had a fine foretopsail voice, and
+when it was a real breeze his language rose with the seas and was fine and
+flowery, vigorous and ornamental, and magnificent. While he was in the
+middle of a peroration which would have excited envy in Cicero, or Burke,
+or a barrister with no case, he heard the owner shouting; for a private
+interview with the steward had given Geordie great confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ware, Mr. Ware, I'd be glad if you'd cuss the men less. I don't like
+it."</p>
+
+<p>The chief officer collapsed as if he were a balloon with a hole in it. And
+for the next minute he and the skipper engaged in an excited conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't&mdash;can't stand it," said Ware.</p>
+
+<p>"You must," said old Smith, almost tearfully.</p>
+
+<p>And Ware did stand it. But when the <i>Patriarch</i> was shortened down and he
+left the deck, he went below and swore very horribly for five minutes by
+any chronometer.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know what Brose feels," said Ware. "I've a great sympathy for poor
+Brose."</p>
+
+<p>The owner ordered a tot for all hands when they came down from aloft. And
+he called the cook aft and harangued him from the break of the poop.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mr. Spoil-Grub, mind you cook better than you've been doin', or I'll
+have you ducked in a tub and set your mate to do your work."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the skipper with a beaming smile in his blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I can talk straight, can't I, cap?" he hiccoughed, blandly. "I'm thinkin'
+I'll lie down in the cabin."</p>
+
+<p>And when the old man went below he found Geordie dossing in his own sacred
+bunk. The poor old chap went and sat in the cabin and put his head on his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a most horrid experience," he said, mournfully. "I don't like
+howners on board&mdash;I don't like 'em a bit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But it was not only the after-guard who suffered. Geordie shifted his
+dunnage aft at last, and though when he was sober he left the skipper's
+berth, he made himself very comfortable in the steward's. And he loafed
+about all day on deck with his pipe in his mouth. He began to look at the
+men with alien eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you they're loafin'," said he to Ware. "Don't I know 'em? They
+watches you like cats, and when your eyes are off 'em they do nothin'. I'm
+payin' 'em to work and I'm payin' you to make 'em. There's a leak
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>And he addressed the crowd from the poop.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a lazy lot," he said, "that's wot you are. For two pins I'd put out
+the galley fire, and I'd cut off your afternoon watch below."</p>
+
+<p>And next day he raised their wages. A week later he cut them down again.
+The skipper had a hard job to keep track of what the ship owed them.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we was home," groaned old Smith. "Oh, he'll be a terror of an
+owner!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll murder him," said Brose.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot did I tell you chaps about the 'orrid effecs of sudden richness on a
+man?" asked the old fo'c's'le man for'ard. "Geordie Potts was a good sort,
+but Mr. George Potts, Esquire, is an 'oly terror. 'E raises hus hup and
+cuts hus down like grass."</p>
+
+<p>And it presently came about that the only time they had any peace was when
+Geordie was very much intoxicated. But when they got into the calms of
+Capricorn on the home stretch to the north he developed a taste for
+gambling and made the old skipper sit up all night playing "brag" for huge
+sums of money.</p>
+
+<p>"I lends you the dibs, and, win or lose, it's all hunky for you," said
+Geordie. He made out orders to pay the "old man" several thousand pounds,
+and Smith began to feel rich. Then Geordie raked Ware into the game. At
+last even Brose succumbed to the lure of "I promises to pay Mr. Brose five
+hundred on the nail," and joined the gamble.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a dash comfortable ship," said Geordie. "What's a few thousand to
+me? I don't mind losin'. Stooard, bring rum."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p441.jpg" width="500" height="391" alt="&quot;HE ADDRESSED THE CROWD FROM THE POOP.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE ADDRESSED THE CROWD FROM THE POOP.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>By the time they picked up the north-east trades poor old Smith owed the
+"owner" ten thousand pounds. Ware was five thousand to the good, and Brose,
+who had played poker in California, was worth fifteen thousand in strange
+paper. He began to dream of a row of houses with a public-house at each
+end. He and Geordie grew quite thick and compared public-house ideals.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to buy a hotel," said Geordie;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> "there's one in Trafalgar
+Square, London, as I've in my mind. I'll fit up the bar till it fair blazes
+with golden bottles."</p>
+
+<p>He borrowed the mate's clothes and had a roaring time, and then they came
+into the Channel and picked up a tug, and went round the Foreland into
+London river.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet lawyers and so on will be down to meet me," said Geordie.
+"They'll be full up with gold. To think of it! And to think I hit my poor
+old uncle with a brick!"</p>
+
+<p>He mourned over his brutality.</p>
+
+<p>"He wasn't half a bad chap," he said, "and I don't see what call my dad had
+to call him a bloodsucker after all."</p>
+
+<p>They docked in the South-West Dock, and sure enough they had not been
+alongside their berth five minutes before old Tyser's usual London agent
+and a very legal-looking person came on board.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me introduce you to the new owner," said the obsequious skipper, as he
+led up Geordie, who had a smile on him large enough to cut a mainsail out
+of.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said the lawyer, "then this is Mr. Potts?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's me," said Geordie. "Have you brought any money with you? I owes Mr.
+Ware five thousand and Mr. Brose fifteen."</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid there's some mistake, Mr. Potts. Your uncle left a will after
+all."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p442.jpg" width="450" height="440" alt="&quot;I&#39;M AFRAID THERE&#39;S SOME MISTAKE, MR. POTTS.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I&#39;M AFRAID THERE&#39;S SOME MISTAKE, MR. POTTS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Geordie's jaw dropped and so did Ware's. But Brose's fell as falls the
+barometer in the centre of a cyclone.</p>
+
+<p>"And me&mdash;did he leave me nothin'?" roared Geordie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said the solicitor. "Mr. Gray, will you kindly give me that
+cash-box you are carrying?"</p>
+
+<p>And the agent handed him the cash-box. "He left you this," said the lawyer.
+"And in this sealed envelope is the key."</p>
+
+<p>Geordie grabbed the box eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's heavy," he said, "it's tolerable heavy."</p>
+
+<p>And putting it on the rail he opened it with the key.</p>
+
+<p>There was half a brick in it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Detectives_at_School" id="Detectives_at_School"></a><i>Detectives at School.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>M. BERTILLON'S NEW METHOD OF DESCRIPTIVE PORTRAITS.</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">By Alder Anderson.</span></h4>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p443a.jpg" width="500" height="308" alt="DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LECTURE ON THE METHOD OF
+IDENTIFICATION BY NOSES.
+
+From a Photo." title="" />
+<span class="caption">DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LECTURE ON THE METHOD OF
+IDENTIFICATION BY NOSES.<br />
+
+From a Photo.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The painter and the writer, the world has been assured repeatedly by the
+very highest authorities, can never encroach very far on each other's
+domains. Whereas a picture conveys the same idea to every beholder, so far
+at least as the outward aspect of the personages represented is concerned,
+a mere description can only give such vague and hazy outlines that the
+ideas of no two readers need ever be identical. How is it that no critic
+has ever suggested that this apparent inferiority of literature might,
+perhaps, simply be lack of science on the part of the author? Such,
+however, would appear to be the logical deduction to be drawn from the
+innovation which M. Bertillon, after ten years' persistent efforts, has
+recently succeeded in getting officially adopted by the Paris Detective
+Police.</p>
+
+<p>M. Bertillon has proved that the appearance of any individual may be
+expressed in terms so clear, precise, and unequivocal that identically the
+same image is evoked in the mind of everybody who hears or reads the
+description. With nothing else but such a description to guide him in his
+search, anybody of normal intelligence is able, after a few lessons from
+the inventor of the system, to unerringly pick out the person indicated
+from a crowd, however great, and in an incredibly short time. The new
+method materially adds to the efficacy of the anthropometrical system of
+identification, with which the name of Bertillon, the inventor of the
+"thumb-prints" method, is inseparably connected. A brief outline of that
+system may here be given.</p>
+
+<p>The variety of Nature is infinite; she never repeats herself. No two leaves
+are ever precisely alike, much less two human beings. A superficial
+observer may fancy that two individuals resemble each other in a remarkable
+manner. Let him examine them more attentively; he will find that they
+differ radically in almost every detail. The farther he carries his
+examination the more numerous and the more conspicuous will the differences
+appear, until at last he may almost experience a difficulty in discovering
+any trace of the resemblance that before seemed so striking. This is a
+<i>r&eacute;sum&eacute;</i> of some of the principal axioms at the base of M. Bertillon's
+teaching.</p>
+
+<p>Every person, then, who for one reason or another comes within the power of
+the law<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> in France and in some other countries is photographed and measured
+in prevision of his transgressing on some future occasion.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p444a.jpg" width="600" height="350" alt="THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL, TAKEN IN PROFILE AND
+FULL FACE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL, TAKEN IN PROFILE AND
+FULL FACE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p444b.jpg" width="600" height="330" alt="THIS IS THE SAME CRIMINAL, WHO WAS IDENTIFIED BY A DETECTIVE
+AND ARRESTED ON THE EVIDENCE OF HIS EARS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THIS IS THE SAME CRIMINAL, WHO WAS IDENTIFIED BY A DETECTIVE
+AND ARRESTED ON THE EVIDENCE OF HIS EARS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The complete description and measurements are transferred to a piece of
+thin cardboard, on which are also pasted two photographs of the
+subject&mdash;one full face, the other in profile, both reduced to one-seventh
+of life size. This is termed the prisoner's "fiche," which is now put away
+for future reference. Every year about twelve thousand "fiches" are thus
+added to the collection in Paris. In ten years this means one hundred and
+twenty thousand; in twenty years nearly a quarter of a million.</p>
+
+<p>Let us assume now that a crime has been committed. All the evidence tends
+to prove that the culprit is none other than a certain man who passed
+through M. Bertillon's hands some years ago. His "fiche" is taken out, and
+copies of the photograph on it are distributed in the usual quarters. This
+old photograph is the only guide the police have by which to identify the
+fugitive. In the interval that has elapsed since it was taken, however, the
+man's outward appearance may have so completely changed that he might now
+walk under the very nose of the cleverest detectives in Europe, trained in
+the old school, without being recognised. Just such a case occurred quite
+recently in Paris, and was specially taken in hand by one of the most
+experienced men the "S&ucirc;ret&eacute;" possessed at the time, but without result. Six
+months later a comparatively inexperienced detective arrested the criminal,
+who was on the point of embarking for America. Trained by M. Bertillon's
+new method to concentrate his attention exclusively on features which
+hardly ever vary, and to neglect entirely such accidental details as the
+fashion of wearing the hair and beard and the apparel, he had at once
+recognised the person he was in search of by the characteristic shape of
+ears and nose. This case is given in the accompanying photographs.</p>
+
+<p>The contrary case to the foregoing instance&mdash;that is to say, the arrest of
+an innocent man, on the ground that he resembled a photograph in the
+detective's possession&mdash;used to be an all too frequent occurrence. Not even
+the very keenest of the law's sleuthhounds were able to avoid such
+mistakes. A good example is shown in the photographs next reproduced.
+Innumerable instances, too, are recorded of people claiming, as that of a
+brother, a husband, or a son who had disappeared, a body which, had they
+but been M. Bertillon's pupils<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> for an hour, they could never by any
+possibility have confounded with their missing relative. So persuaded have
+women often been of the accuracy of their own judgment that there have been
+cases in which they have at first indignantly repudiated the husband or son
+who subsequently reappears on the scene in flesh and blood and seeks to
+prove that he is not dead after all.</p>
+
+<p>A detective is now taught that he must use the photograph he is supplied
+with merely as a check, to make assurance doubly sure, before he ventures
+on an arrest. What he must principally rely upon is the visual portrait he
+can evoke in his own imagination, a portrait which, he is told, is only
+valuable so far as he is able to describe it in words. That which we cannot
+clearly describe we cannot clearly conceive, is the pith of M. Bertillon's
+teaching. The pupil is, consequently, made to analyze each feature of the
+photograph separately, and express the result in certain conventional
+formul&aelig; that convey a definite meaning to his own mind and to the mind of
+everybody else who has studied the same method. He makes, in fact, "a
+portrait in words."</p>
+
+<p>The feature that presents the greatest diversity of form and size is the
+ear, and, strangely enough, the ear is precisely a feature which we hardly
+ever consciously look at. It has been reserved for M. Bertillon to point
+out how admirably it is adapted for the purpose of establishing a person's
+identity. The size of the ear, the relative proportions to one another of
+the folds, its contour, the surface and shape of the lobe, the manner the
+lobe is attached to the cheek, and the inclination of the bottom interior
+ridge known as the antitragus differ most materially in every individual.
+Let a modern French detective describe an ear as "Deq. cav. vex. tra. sep";
+all his colleagues are immediately able to form a mental image of the
+description of ear he means.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p445a.jpg" width="600" height="361" alt="THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p445b.jpg" width="600" height="374" alt="THESE ARE PORTRAITS OF AN INNOCENT MAN WHO WAS ARRESTED BY
+AN UNTRAINED DETECTIVE AS BEING THE SAME MAN, BUT HIS EARS ALONE WERE
+SUFFICIENT TO ACQUIT HIM." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THESE ARE PORTRAITS OF AN INNOCENT MAN WHO WAS ARRESTED BY
+AN UNTRAINED DETECTIVE AS BEING THE SAME MAN, BUT HIS EARS ALONE WERE
+SUFFICIENT TO ACQUIT HIM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Similarly for the nose, of which three main varieties are recognised,
+according as the line of the back is concave, rectilinear, or convex. Each
+of these three principal classes is divided into three divisions according
+to the direction of the base line&mdash;ascending, horizontal, or descending.
+The degree of concavity or convexity of the line of the nose,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> as well as
+the degree in which the base line descends or mounts, is indicated in very
+simple fashion by putting the term denoting the form into brackets or
+underlining it. Thus a moderately concave-backed nose is expressed by the
+abbreviation "cav."; if the concavity is very slightly marked by (cav.);
+and, if very accentuated, by <i>cav.</i> Noses of which the line is very sinuous
+or arched are denoted by the abbreviations "s" and "a." A nose described as
+<i>cav.</i> (s) would have a very strongly-marked concavity and be slightly
+sinuous, whereas (cav.) <i>s</i> would denote a nose but slightly concave, but
+with a very sinuous outline. The form of the root of the nose is also
+indicated in similar fashion to the back and base. So much for the shape of
+the nose. Its dimensions relatively to the face, its width, length, and
+degree of projection, are also indicated, for it is evident that size is
+quite independent of shape.</p>
+
+<p>The degree of inclination of the forehead is another feature that is noted,
+as well as the general aspect of the complexion, colour of hair and eyes,
+and anything about the face that is in the least abnormal.</p>
+
+<p>The entire course of instruction in "word-portraits" extends over thirty
+lessons of two hours each. At the end of the course an examination is held,
+in which the pupil must acquit himself honourably in the practical tests
+imposed upon him, if he wishes to obtain the coveted certificate, without
+which he can now hope for no promotion. Several hundred persons are
+assembled; with the exception of a few privileged strangers, almost all are
+connected directly or indirectly with the various services of the police
+administration. M. Bertillon or his principal lieutenant, M. Payen, hands a
+slip of paper to the candidate, containing some such brief indications as
+the following: "R&mdash;cav. (deq.) cav. &times; 1&middot;62. O. 1878." "Pick out the person
+to whom this refers," adds the examiner. In an incredibly short space of
+time one of the audience finds himself "under arrest." The figures 1&middot;62, it
+may be said, denote the person's height; "O" stands for orange-coloured
+eyes; and 1878 denotes, approximately, the year of birth&mdash;that is, that he
+is now about twenty-six years of age.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p446.jpg" width="319" height="650" alt="DIFFERENT TYPES OF EARS FROM THE CLASSIFICATION-BOOK." title="" />
+<span class="caption">DIFFERENT TYPES OF EARS FROM THE CLASSIFICATION-BOOK.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We have the authority of our cleverest modern humorist for the statement
+that the burglar and the cut-throat like a little innocent amusement
+occasionally; what wonder, then, if the austere detective does also? His
+chiefs, therefore, thoughtfully turn these examinations into occasions of
+grave merry-making by giving one or other of the examinees a descriptive
+portrait of some high functionary, perhaps of the Prefect of Police
+himself, should he be present. The fledgeling is thus placed in a dilemma;
+he must either display his incompetence or do violence to all his notions
+of respect for the official hierarchy, and put a disrespectful hand on one
+of the few shoulders in the world that he has looked upon as sacred. The
+manner in which the luckless wight acquits himself of his invidious task
+forms the theme of many a conversation in the "highest detective circles"
+of the French capital for the next week or so.</p>
+
+<p>M. Bertillon has recently compiled an album containing about fifteen
+hundred photographs of the most notorious French criminals, classified
+exclusively by the shape of their ears and noses and their height. The man
+whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> portrait figures in this blackest of black books has, at any rate,
+the satisfaction of knowing that his physiognomy will not disappear from
+the world without leaving some memories behind it.</p>
+
+<p>Other black books contain portraits of foreigners of different
+nationalities. The writer was allowed to peep into that relating to
+"English and American" malefactors who are at loggerheads with the Paris
+Prefecture of Police, and was patriotically pleased to find that their
+total number&mdash;five hundred&mdash;is only one-fifth that of the Belgians. A very
+large proportion, too, of these <i>soi-disant</i> English and American citizens,
+if their names are any criterion, might be Russians, Danes, Turks, or
+Prussians, but are certainly not Englishmen. Anglo-Saxondom may flatter
+herself that, in so far as France is concerned, she is a most exemplary
+race.</p>
+
+<p>When the practice of portraits in words becomes generalized, as will no
+doubt very soon be the case, members of all those professions at which the
+laws of most countries persist in looking askance will have but a sorry
+time, if, indeed, they are able to subsist at all. Within the space of an
+hour or two telegraph and telephone will have carried a brief but
+unmistakable word-portrait of them to every corner of the civilized world
+if necessary. In large towns like London and Paris, twenty thousand pairs
+of trained eyes, covering the entire area of the city, can be set
+simultaneously on the search for the fugitive murderer or burglar, who will
+discover that the old methods of disguise are of but little use to him. A
+rumour that certain London banks contemplated having all their <i>employ&eacute;s</i>
+measured and photographed on M. Bertillon's system caused a considerable
+amount of murmuring recently, the measure being considered as somewhat
+derogatory by the clerks. By this extension of the method, however, their
+portraits can be taken without their knowledge, since neither camera nor
+measuring rule is necessary. Absconding cashiers will, in future, therefore
+have to be remarkably circumspect in their choice of foreign residence.
+Impostors like the claimant to the Tichborne estates, whose trial convulsed
+the Anglo-Saxon world over thirty years ago, will be given short shrift. It
+may be remarked, however, that one of the principal points brought forward
+at the trial to prove that the Claimant was not the man he pretended to be
+was precisely that the lobe of his ear was quite differently formed to the
+lobe of the real Roger Tichborne. This only proves once more the old adage
+that under the sun there is nothing new.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p447.jpg" width="500" height="315" alt="DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LESSON ON EARS.
+
+From a Photo." title="" />
+<span class="caption">DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LESSON ON EARS.<br />
+
+From a Photo.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The writer would here express his thanks to M. Lepine, the Prefect of
+Police, and M. Bertillon for their extreme courtesy in acceding to his
+request to be allowed to attend the course of lessons, and also for
+permission to use the photographs now reproduced.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p448.jpg" width="550" height="479" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="DIALSTONE_LANEA" id="DIALSTONE_LANEA"></a>DIALSTONE LANE<a name="FNanchor_A_3" id="FNanchor_A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_3" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">BY W. W. Jacobs</span></h3>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk made but a poor breakfast next morning, the effort to display a
+feeling of proper sympathy with Mrs. Chalk, who was presiding in gloomy
+silence at the coffee-pot, and at the same time to maintain an air of
+cheerful innocence as to the cause of her behaviour, being almost beyond
+his powers. He chipped his egg with a painstaking attempt to avoid noise,
+and swallowed each mouthful with a feeble pretence of not knowing that she
+was watching him as he ate. Her glance conveyed a scornful reproach that he
+could eat at all in such circumstances, and, that there might be no mistake
+as to her own feelings, she ostentatiously pushed the toast-rack and
+egg-stand away from her.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you're not eating, my dear," said Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"If I ate anything it would choke me," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk affected surprise, but his voice quavered. To cover his
+discomfiture he passed his cup up for more coffee, shivering despite
+himself, as he noticed the elaborate care which Mrs. Chalk displayed in
+rinsing out the cup and filling it to the very brim. Beyond raising her
+eyes to the ceiling when he took another piece of toast, she made no sign.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not looking yourself," ventured Mr. Chalk, after a time.</p>
+
+<p>His wife received the information in scornful silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I've noticed it for some time," said the thoughtful husband, making
+another effort. "It's worried me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not getting younger, I know," assented Mrs. Chalk. "But if you think
+that that's any excuse for your goings on, you're mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk murmured something to effect that he did not understand her.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand well enough," was the reply. "When that girl came whistling
+over the fence last night you said you thought it was a bird."</p>
+
+<p>"I did," said Mr. Chalk, hastily taking a spoonful of egg.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Chalk's face flamed. "What sort of bird?" she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Singin' bird," replied her husband, with nervous glibness.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Chalk left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk finished his breakfast with an effort, and then, moving to the
+window, lit his pipe and sat for some time in moody thought. A little
+natural curiosity as to the identity of the fair whistler would, however,
+not be denied, and the names of Binchester's fairest daughters passed in
+review before him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> Almost unconsciously he got up and surveyed himself in
+the glass.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no accounting for tastes," he said to himself, in modest
+explanation.</p>
+
+<p>His mind still dwelt on the subject as he stood in the hall later on in the
+morning, brushing his hat, preparatory to taking his usual walk. Mrs.
+Chalk, upstairs listening, thought that he would never have finished, and
+drew her own conclusions.</p>
+
+<p>With the air of a man whose time hangs upon his hands Mr. Chalk sauntered
+slowly through the narrow by-ways of Binchester. He read all the notices
+pasted on the door of the Town Hall and bought some stamps at the
+post-office, but the morning dragged slowly, and he bent his steps at last
+in the direction of Tredgold's office, in the faint hope of a little
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise, Mr. Tredgold senior was in an unusually affable mood. He
+pushed his papers aside at once, and, motioning his visitor to a chair,
+greeted him with much heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the man I wanted to see," he said, cheerfully. "I want you to come
+round to my place at eight o'clock to-night. I've just seen Stobell, and
+he's coming too."</p>
+
+<p>"I will if I can," said Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"You must come," said the other, seriously. "It's business."</p>
+
+<p>"Business!" said Mr. Chalk. "I don't see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will to-night," said Mr. Tredgold, with a mysterious smile. "I've sent
+Edward off to town on business, and we sha'n't be interrupted. Good-bye.
+I'm busy."</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with his visitor and led him to the door; Chalk, after a
+vain attempt to obtain particulars, walked slowly home.</p>
+
+<p>Despite his curiosity it was nearly half-past eight when he arrived at Mr.
+Tredgold's that evening, and was admitted by his host. The latter, with a
+somewhat trite remark about the virtues of punctuality, led the way
+upstairs and threw open the door of his study.</p>
+
+<p>"Here he is," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>A slender figure sitting bolt upright in a large grandfather-chair turned
+at their entrance, and revealed to the astonished Mr. Chalk the expressive
+features of Miss Selina Vickers; facing her at the opposite side of the
+room Mr. Stobell, palpably ruffled, eyed her balefully.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a new client of mine," said Tredgold, indicating Miss Vickers.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk said "Good evening."</p>
+
+<p>"I tried to get a word with you last night," said Miss Vickers. "I was down
+at the bottom of your garden whistling for over ten minutes as hard as I
+could whistle. I wonder you didn't hear me."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hear</i> you!" cried Mr. Chalk, guiltily conscious of a feeling of
+disappointment quite beyond his control. "What do you mean by coming and
+whistling for me, eh? What do you mean by it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to see you private," said Miss Vickers, calmly, "but it's just as
+well. I went and saw Mr. Tredgold this morning instead."</p>
+
+<p>"On a matter of business," said Mr. Tredgold, looking at her. "She came to
+me, as one of the ordinary public, about some&mdash;ha&mdash;land she's interested
+in."</p>
+
+<p>"An island," corroborated Miss Vickers.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p449.jpg" width="500" height="380" alt="&quot;&#39;THIS IS A NEW CLIENT OF MINE,&#39; SAID TREDGOLD.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;THIS IS A NEW CLIENT OF MINE,&#39; SAID TREDGOLD.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk took a chair and looked round in amazement. "What, another?" he
+said, faintly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold coughed. "My client is not a rich woman," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"Chalk knows that," interrupted Mr. Stobell. "The airs and graces that girl
+will give herself if you go on like that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But she has some property there which she is anxious to obtain," continued
+Mr. Tredgold, with a warning glance at the speaker. "That being so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Make him wish he may die first," interposed Miss Vickers, briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; that's all right," said Tredgold, meeting Mr. Chalk's startled
+gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be when he's done it," retorted the determined Miss Vickers.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a secret," explained Mr. Tredgold, addressing his staring friend.
+"And you must swear to keep it if it's told you. That's what she means.
+I've had to and so has Stobell."</p>
+
+<p>A fierce grunt from Mr. Stobell, who was still suffering from the
+remembrance of an indignity against which he had protested in vain, came as
+confirmation. Then the marvelling Mr. Chalk rose, and instructed by Miss
+Vickers took an oath, the efficacy of which consisted in a fervent hope
+that he might die if he broke it.</p>
+
+<p>"But what's it all about?" he inquired, plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment's
+hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk.
+With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers's Island,
+which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake. It was impossible to
+mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was promptly
+frustrated by the owner.</p>
+
+<p>"But Captain Bowers said that he had burnt it," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold eyed him coldly. "Burnt what?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"The map," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," said Tredgold. "You told me he had burnt a map."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this another, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"P'r'aps," said Miss Vickers, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"As the captain said he had burnt his, this <i>must</i> be another," said
+Tredgold.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't he burn it, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be sorry to disbelieve Captain Bowers," said Tredgold.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't be done," said the brooding Stobell, "not if you tried."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk sat still and eyed them in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no doubt that this map refers to the same treasure as the one
+Captain Bowers had," said Tredgold, with the air of one making a generous
+admission. "My client has not volunteered any statement as to how it came
+into her possession&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And she's not going to," put in Miss Vickers, dispassionately.</p>
+
+<p>"It is enough for me that we have got it," resumed Mr. Tredgold. "Now, we
+want you to join us in fitting out a ship and recovering the treasure.
+Equal expenses; equal shares."</p>
+
+<p>"What about Captain Bowers?" inquired Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"He is to have an equal share without any of the expense," said Tredgold.
+"You know he gave us permission to find it if we could, so we are not
+injuring anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"He told us to go and find it, if you remember," said Stobell, "and we're
+going to."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll have a fortune handed to him without any trouble or being
+responsible in any way," said Tredgold, impressively. "I should like to
+think there was somebody working to put a fortune like that into my lap. We
+shall have a fifth each."</p>
+
+<p>"That'll be five&mdash;thousand&mdash;pounds for you, Selina," said Mr. Stobell, with
+a would-be benevolent smile.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vickers turned a composed little face upon him and languidly closed
+one eye.</p>
+
+<p>"I had two prizes for arithmetic when I was at school," she remarked; "and
+don't you call me Selina, unless you want to be called Bobbie."</p>
+
+<p>A sharp exclamation from Mr. Tredgold stopped all but the first three words
+of Mr. Stobell's retort, but he said the rest under his breath with
+considerable relish.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mind him," said Miss Vickers. "I'm half sorry I let him join, now. A
+man that used to work for him once told me that he was only half a
+gentleman, but he'd never seen that half."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell, afraid to trust himself, got up and leaned out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we're all agreed, then," said Tredgold, looking round.</p>
+
+<p>"Half a second," said Miss Vickers. "Before I part with this map you've all
+got to sign a paper promising me my proper share, and to give me twenty
+pounds down."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold hesitated and looked serious. Mr. Chalk, somewhat dazed by the
+events of the evening, blinked at him solemnly. Mr. Stobell withdrew his
+head from the window and spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Twenty&mdash;pounds!</span>" he growled.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty pounds," repeated Miss Vickers, "or four hundred shillings, if you
+like it better. If you wait a moment I'll make it pennies."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back in her chair and, screwing her eyes tight, began the
+calculation. "Twelve noughts are nought," she said, in a gabbling whisper;
+"twelve noughts are nought, twelve fours are forty&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Mr. Tredgold, who had been regarding this performance
+with astonished disapproval. "You shall have the twenty pounds, but there
+is no necessity for us to sign any paper."</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's no necessity," said Miss Vickers, opening her small, sharp
+eyes again, "only, if you don't do it, I'll find somebody that will."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p451.jpg" width="550" height="392" alt="&quot;MR. TREDGOLD PREPARED TO DRAW UP THE REQUIRED AGREEMENT.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MR. TREDGOLD PREPARED TO DRAW UP THE REQUIRED AGREEMENT.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold argued with her, but in vain; Mr. Chalk, taking up the
+argument and expanding it, fared no better; and Mr. Stobell, opening his
+mouth to contribute his mite, was quelled before he could get a word out.</p>
+
+<p>"Them's my terms," said Miss Vickers; "take 'em or leave 'em, just as you
+please. I give you five minutes by the clock to make up your minds; Mr.
+Stobell can have six, because thinking takes him longer. And if you agree
+to do what's right&mdash;and I'm letting you off easy&mdash;Mr. Tredgold is to keep
+the map and never to let it go out of his sight for a single instant."</p>
+
+<p>She put her head round the side of the chair to make a note of the time,
+and then, sitting upright with her arms folded, awaited their decision.
+Before the time was up the terms were accepted, and Mr. Tredgold, drawing
+his chair to the table, prepared to draw up the required agreement.</p>
+
+<p>He composed several, but none which seemed to give general satisfaction. At
+the seventh attempt, however, he produced an agreement which, alluding in
+vague terms to a treasure quest in the Southern Seas on the strength of a
+map provided by Miss Vickers, promised one-fifth of the sum recovered to
+that lady, and was considered to meet the exigencies of the case. Miss
+Vickers herself, without being enthusiastic, said that she supposed it
+would have to do.</p>
+
+<p>Another copy was avoided, but only with great difficulty, owing to her
+criticism of Mr. Stobell's signature. It took the united and verbose
+efforts of Messrs. Chalk and Tredgold to assure her that it was in his
+usual style, and rather a good signature for him than otherwise. Miss
+Vickers, viewing it with her head on one side, asked whether he couldn't
+make his mark instead; a question which Mr. Stobell, at the pressing
+instance of his friends, left unanswered. Then Tredgold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> left the room to
+pay a visit to his safe, and, the other two gentlemen turning out their
+pockets, the required sum was made up, and with the agreement handed to
+Miss Vickers in exchange for the map.</p>
+
+<p>She bade them good-night, and then, opening the door, paused with her hand
+on the knob and stood irresolute.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I've done right," she said, somewhat nervously. "It was no good to
+anybody laying idle and being wasted. I haven't stolen anything."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Tredgold, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems ridiculous for all that money to be wasted," continued Miss
+Vickers, musingly. "It doesn't belong to anybody, so nobody can be hurt by
+our taking it, and we can do a lot of good with it, if we like. I shall
+give some of mine away to the poor. We all will. I'll have it put in this
+paper."</p>
+
+<p>She fumbled in her bodice for the document, and walked towards them.</p>
+
+<p>"We can't alter it now," said Mr. Tredgold, decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll do what's right," said Mr. Chalk, reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vickers smiled at him. "Yes, I know <i>you</i> will," she said, graciously,
+"and I think Mr. Tredgold will, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're leaving that door open," said Mr. Stobell, coldly, "and the
+draught's blowing my head off, pretty near."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vickers eyed him scornfully, but in the absence of a crushing reply
+disdained one at all. She contented herself instead by going outside and
+closing the door after her with a sharpness which stirred every hair on his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a most extraordinary thing," said Mr. Chalk, as the three bent
+exultingly over the map. "I could ha' sworn to this map in a court of
+justice."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry your head about it," advised Mr. Stobell.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got your way at last," said Tredgold, with some severity. "We're
+going for a cruise with you, and here you are raising objections."</p>
+
+<p>"Not objections," remonstrated the other; "and, talking about the voyage,
+what about Mrs. Chalk? She'll want to come."</p>
+
+<p>"So will Mrs. Stobell," said that lady's proprietor, "but she won't."</p>
+
+<p>"She mustn't hear of it till the last moment," said Tredgold,
+dictatorially; "the quieter we keep the whole thing the better. You're not
+to divulge a word of the cruise to anybody. When it does leak out it must
+be understood we are just going for a little pleasure jaunt. Mind, you've
+sworn to keep the whole affair secret."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>"The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by
+delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look
+round. My idea is to buy a small, stout sailing-craft second-hand; ship a
+crew ostensibly for a pleasure trip, and sail as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk's face brightened. "And we'll take some beads, and guns, and
+looking-glasses, and trade with the natives in the different islands we
+pass," he said, cheerfully. "We may as well see something of the world
+while we're about it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold smiled indulgently and said they would see. Messrs. Stobell
+and Chalk, after a final glance at the map and a final perusal of the
+instructions at the back, took their departure.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like a dream," said the latter gentleman, as they walked down the
+High Street.</p>
+
+<p>"That Vickers girl ud like more dreams o' the same sort," said Mr. Stobell,
+as he thrust his hand in his empty pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well for you," continued Mr. Chalk, uneasily. "But my wife
+is sure to insist upon coming."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell sniffed. "I've got a wife too," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Chalk, in a burst of unwonted frankness, "but it ain't
+quite the same thing. I've got a wife and Mrs. Stobell has got a
+husband&mdash;that's the difference."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell pondered this remark for the rest of the way home. He came to
+the conclusion that the events of the evening had made Mr. Chalk a little
+light-headed.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+<p>Until he stood on the platform on Wednesday morning with his brother
+adventurers Mr. Chalk passed the time in a state of nervous excitement,
+which only tended to confirm his wife in her suspicions of his behaviour.
+Without any preliminaries he would burst out suddenly into snatches of
+sea-songs, the "Bay of Biscay" being an especial favourite, until Mrs.
+Chalk thought fit to observe that, "if the thunder did roar like that she
+should not be afraid of it." Ever sensitive to a fault, Mr. Chalk fell back
+upon "Tom Bowling," which he thought free from openings of that sort, until
+Mrs. Chalk, after commenting upon the inability of the late Mr. Bowling to
+hear the tempest's howling, indulged in idle speculations as to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> what he
+would have thought of Mr. Chalk's. Tredgold and Stobell bought papers on
+the station, but Mr. Chalk was in too exalted a mood for reading. The
+bustle and life as the train became due were admirably attuned to his
+feelings, and when the train drew up and they embarked, to the clatter of
+milk-cans and the rumbling of trolleys, he was beaming with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that I can smell the sea already," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell put down his paper and sniffed; then he resumed it again and,
+meeting Mr. Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk,
+leaning over to Tredgold.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 393px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p453.jpg" width="393" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;FINE DAY, GENTLEMEN,&#39; SAID THE STRANGER, AS HE RAISED HIS
+GLASS.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;FINE DAY, GENTLEMEN,&#39; SAID THE STRANGER, AS HE RAISED HIS
+GLASS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the last
+possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you are
+going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk shook his head. "I told her that you had got business there, and
+that I was going with you just for the outing," he said. "What she'll say
+when she finds out&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His imagination failed him and, a prey to forebodings, he tried to divert
+his mind by looking out of window. His countenance cleared as they neared
+Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side of the
+river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left high and dry
+by the tide.</p>
+
+<p>A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river which
+constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was a goodly
+array of shipping, and Mr. Chalk's pulse beat faster as his gaze wandered
+impartially from a stately barque in all the pride of fresh paint to dingy,
+sea-worn ketches and tiny yachts.</p>
+
+<p>Uncertain how to commence operations, they walked thoughtfully up and down
+the quay. If any of the craft were for sale there was nothing to announce
+the fact, and the various suggestions which Mr. Chalk threw off from time
+to time as to the course they should pursue were hardly noticed.</p>
+
+<p>"One o'clock," said Mr. Stobell, extracting a huge silver timepiece from
+his pocket, after a couple of wasted hours.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's have something to eat before we do any more," said Mr. Tredgold.
+"After that we'll ferry over and look at the other side."</p>
+
+<p>They made their way to the King of Hanover, an old inn, perched on the side
+of the harbour, and, mounting the stairs, entered the coffee-room, where
+Mr. Stobell, after hesitating for some time between the rival claims of
+roast beef and grilled chops, solved the difficulty by ordering both.</p>
+
+<p>The only other occupant of the room, a short, wiry man, with a
+close-shaven, hard-bitten face, sat smoking, with a glass of whisky before
+him, in a bay window at the end of the room, which looked out on the
+harbour. There was a maritime flavour about him which at once enlisted Mr.
+Chalk's sympathies and made him overlook the small, steely-grey eyes and
+large and somewhat brutal mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine day, gentlemen," said the stranger, nodding affably to Mr. Chalk as
+he raised his glass.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk assented, and began a somewhat minute discussion upon the
+weather, which lasted until the waiter appeared with the lunch.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring me another drop o' whisky, George," said the stranger, as the latter
+was about to leave the room, "and a little stronger, d'ye hear? A man might
+drink this and still be in the Band of Hope."</p>
+
+<p>"We thought it wouldn't do for you to get the chuck out of it after all
+these years, Cap'n Brisket," said George, calmly. "It's a whisky that's
+kept special for teetotalers like you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket gave a hoarse laugh and winked at Mr. Stobell; that
+gentleman, merely pausing to empty his mouth and drink half a glass of
+beer, winked back.</p>
+
+<p>"Been here before, sir?" inquired the captain.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell, who was busy again, left the reply to Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"Several times," said the latter. "I'm very fond of the sea."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket nodded, and, taking up his glass, moved to the end of their
+table, with the air of a man disposed to conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"There's not much doing in Biddlecombe nowadays," he remarked, shaking his
+head. "Trade ain't what it used to be; ships are more than half their time
+looking for freights. And even when they get them they're hardly worth
+having."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Chalk started and, leaning over, whispered to Mr. Tredgold.</p>
+
+<p>"No harm in it," said the latter. "Better leave it to me. Shipping's dull,
+then?" he inquired, turning to Captain Brisket.</p>
+
+<p>"Dull?" was the reply. "Dull ain't no name for it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold played with a salt-spoon and frowned thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"We've been looking round for a ship this morning," he said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"As passengers?" inquired the captain, staring.</p>
+
+<p>"As owners," put in Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket, greatly interested, drew first his glass and then his
+chair a yard nearer. "Do you mean that you want to buy one?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we might if we could get one cheap," admitted Tredgold, cautiously.
+"We had some sort of an idea of a cruise to the South Pacific; pleasure,
+with perhaps a little trading mixed up with it. I suppose some of these old
+schooners can be picked up for the price of an old song?"</p>
+
+<p>The captain, grating his chair along the floor, came nearer still; so near
+that Mr. Stobell instinctively put out his right elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"You've met just the right man," said Captain Brisket, with a boisterous
+laugh. "I know a schooner, two hundred and forty tons, that is just the
+identical article you're looking for, good as new and sound as a bell. Are
+you going to sail her yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Stobell, without looking up, "he ain't."</p>
+
+<p>"Got a master?" demanded Captain Brisket, with growing excitement. "Don't
+tell me you've got a master."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" growled Mr. Stobell, who, having by this time arrived at the
+cheese, felt that he had more leisure for conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Because," shouted the other, hitting the table a thump with his fist that
+upset half his whisky&mdash;"because if you haven't Bill Brisket's your man."</p>
+
+<p>The three gentlemen received this startling intelligence with such a lack
+of enthusiasm that Captain Brisket was fain to cover what in any other man
+might have been regarded as confusion by ringing the bell for George and
+inquiring with great sternness of manner why he had not brought him a full
+glass.</p>
+
+<p>"We can't do things in five minutes," said Mr. Tredgold, after a long and
+somewhat trying pause. "First of all we've got to get a ship."</p>
+
+<p>"The craft you want is over the other side of the harbour waiting for you,"
+said the captain, confidently. "We'll ferry over now if you like, or, if
+you prefer to go by yourselves, do; Bill Brisket is not the man to stand in
+anyone's way, whether he gets anything out of it or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold hard," said Mr. Stobell, putting up his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket regarded him with a beaming smile; Mr. Stobell's two
+friends waited patiently.</p>
+
+<p>"What ud a schooner like that fetch?" inquired Mr. Stobell.</p>
+
+<p>"It all depends," said Brisket. "Of course, if I buy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell held up his hand again. "All depends whether you buy it for us
+or sell it for the man it belongs to, I s'pose?" he said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket jumped up, and to Mr. Chalk's horror smote the speaker
+heavily on the back. Mr. Stobell, clenching a fist the size of a leg of
+mutton, pushed his chair back and prepared to rise.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a trump," said Captain Brisket, in tones of unmistakable respect,
+"that's what you are. Lord, if I'd got the head for business you have I
+should be a man of fortune by now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell, who had half risen, sat down again, and, for the first time
+since his last contract but one, a smile played lightly about the corners
+of his mouth. He took another drink and, shaking his head slightly as he
+put the glass down, smiled again with the air of a man who has been
+reproached for making a pun.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me do it for you," said Captain Brisket, impressively. "I'll tell you
+where to go without being seen in the matter or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> letting old Todd know that
+I'm in it. Ask him a price and bate him down; when you've got his lowest,
+come to me and give me one pound in every ten I save you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold looked at his friends. "If we do that," he said, turning to
+the captain, "it would be to your interest to buy the ship in any case. How
+are we to be sure she is seaworthy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, there you are!" said Brisket, with an expansive smile. "You let me buy
+for you and promise me the master's berth, provided you are satisfied with
+my credentials. Common sense'll tell you I wouldn't risk my own carcass in
+a rotten ship."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell nodded approval and, Captain Brisket with unexpected delicacy
+withdrawing to the window and becoming interested in the harbour, conferred
+for some time with his friends. The captain's offer being accepted, subject
+to certain conditions, they settled their bill and made their way to the
+ferry.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the schooner," said the captain, pointing, as they neared the
+opposite shore; "the <i>Fair Emily</i>, and the place she is lying at is called
+Todd's Wharf. Ask for Mr. Todd, or, better still, walk straight on to the
+wharf and have a look at her. The old man'll see you fast enough."</p>
+
+<p>He sprang nimbly ashore as the boat's head touched the stairs, and after
+extending a hand to Mr. Chalk, which was coldly ignored, led the way up the
+steps to the quay.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the wharf just along there," he said, pointing up the road. "I'll
+wait for you at the Jack Ashore here. Don't offer him too much to begin
+with."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of offering a hundred pounds," said Mr. Tredgold. "If the ship's
+sound we can't be very much out over that sum."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket stared at him. "No; don't do that," he said, recovering,
+and speaking with great gravity. "Offer him seventy. Good luck."</p>
+
+<p>He watched them up the road and then, with a mysterious grin, turned into
+the Jack Ashore, and taking a seat in the bar waited patiently for their
+return.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour passed. The captain had smoked one pipe and was half through
+another. He glanced at the clock over the bar and fidgeted as an unpleasant
+idea that the bargain, despite Mr. Tredgold's ideas as to the value of
+schooners, might have been completed without his assistance occurred to
+him. He took a sip from his glass, and then his face softened as the faint
+sounds of a distant uproar broke upon his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" said a customer.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p455.jpg" width="500" height="392" alt="&quot;HIS THREE PATRONS, WITH A HOPELESS ATTEMPT TO APPEAR
+UNCONCERNED, WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HIS THREE PATRONS, WITH A HOPELESS ATTEMPT TO APPEAR
+UNCONCERNED, WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The landlord, who was glancing at the paper, put it down and listened.
+"Sounds like old Todd at it again," he said, coming round to the front of
+the bar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The noise came closer. "It <i>is</i> old Todd," said another customer, and
+hastily finishing his beer moved with the others to the door. Captain
+Brisket, with a fine air of indifference, lounged after them, and peering
+over their shoulders obtained a good view of the approaching disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>His three patrons, with a hopeless attempt to appear unconcerned, were
+coming down the road, while close behind a respectable-looking old
+gentleman with a long, white beard and a voice like a fog-horn almost
+danced with excitement. They quickened their pace as they neared the inn,
+and Mr. Chalk, throwing appearances to the winds, almost dived through the
+group at the door. He was at once followed by Mr. Tredgold, but Mr.
+Stobell, black with wrath, paused in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Fetch 'em out</span>," vociferated the old gentleman as the landlord barred the
+doorway with his arms. "Fetch that red-whiskered one out and I'll eat him."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mr. Todd?" inquired the landlord, with a glance at his
+friends. "What's he done?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Done?</i>" repeated the excitable Mr. Todd. "Done? They come walking on to
+my wharf as if the place&mdash;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Fetch him out</span>," he bawled, breaking off
+suddenly. "Fetch him out and I'll skin him alive."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Brisket took Mr. Stobell by the cuff and after a slight altercation
+drew him inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell that red-whiskered man to come outside," bawled Mr. Todd. "What's he
+afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>"What have you been doing to him?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to the
+pallid Mr. Chalk.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he coming out?" demanded the terrible voice, "or have I got to wait
+here all night? Why don't he come outside, and I'll break every bone in his
+body."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stobell scratched his head in gloomy perplexity: then, as his gaze fell
+upon the smiling countenances of Mr. Todd's fellow-townsmen, his face
+cleared.</p>
+
+<p>"He's an old man," he said, slowly, "but if any of you would like to step
+outside with me for five minutes, you've only got to say the word, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>Nobody manifesting any signs of accepting this offer, he turned away and
+took a seat by the side of the indignant Tredgold. Mr. Todd, after a final
+outburst, began to feel exhausted, and forsaking his prey with much
+reluctance allowed himself to be led away. Snatches of a strong and copious
+benediction, only partly mellowed by distance, fell upon the ears of the
+listeners.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you offer him the seventy?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to Mr.
+Tredgold.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> did," said Mr. Chalk, plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said the captain, regarding him thoughtfully; "perhaps you ought to
+ha' made it eighty. He's asking eight hundred for it, I understand."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold turned sharply. "Eight hundred?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>The captain nodded, "And I'm not saying it's not worth it," he said, "but I
+might be able to get it for you for six. You'd better leave it to me now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tredgold at first said he would have nothing more to do with it, but
+under the softening influence of a pipe and a glass was induced to
+reconsider his decision. Captain Brisket, waving farewells from the quay as
+they embarked on the ferry-boat later on in the afternoon, bore in his
+pocket the cards of all three gentlemen, together with a commission
+entrusting him with the preliminary negotiations for the purchase of the
+<i>Fair Emily</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p456.jpg" width="550" height="376" alt="&quot;CAPTAIN BRISKET WAVING FAREWELLS FROM THE QUAY AS THEY
+EMBARKED.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;CAPTAIN BRISKET WAVING FAREWELLS FROM THE QUAY AS THEY
+EMBARKED.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<h4>
+(<i>To be continued.</i>)
+</h4>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_3" id="Footnote_A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_3"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Copyright, 1904, by W. W. Jacobs, in the United States of
+America.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span></p>
+<p><a name="The_Atlantic_River" id="The_Atlantic_River"></a></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p457a.jpg" width="500" height="462" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3>By Julian Drake</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[In April of last year the steamer <i>Miosen</i>, from
+Christiania, sailed from New Orleans. Owing to a
+damaged tail-shaft off Key West she practically drifted
+from the Straits of Florida to the F&auml;r&ouml;e Islands. From
+the captain's notes the following account of the Gulf
+Stream voyage is transcribed.]</p></div>
+
+<p>What is the greatest river in the world? Naturally every Kindergarten pupil
+would instantly respond by naming the Mississippi, with the Amazon a good
+second. But that is because they are deceived by geographers jealous of the
+prerogative of the land. Hydrographers&mdash;as, for example, Sir John Murray,
+K.C.B.&mdash;would return a different answer, and it is clear that hydrographers
+ought to know something about water.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest river in the world, then, begins in the vicinity of Key West,
+Florida. There is on the globe no such stupendous flow of waters. It defies
+the severest droughts; in the mightiest floods it never overflows. Its
+current sweeps onward more rapidly than the Mississippi or the Amazon and
+its volume is a thousand times greater. Let us rid our mind of the idea of
+land. The banks and the bottom of this stupendous river are of cold, whilst
+its current is of warm, water. The name of it is the Gulf Stream. It might
+properly be called the Atlantic River. Doubtless many hundreds, even
+thousands, of craft have made the voyage down this river from its source to
+its mouth, and the trip of the <i>Miosen</i>, of Christiania, Norway, is only
+remarkable in this: that she virtually drifted the whole distance, four
+thousand two hundred and twelve miles. The <i>Miosen</i> is a Norwegian steamer
+of one thousand two hundred and eighty tons, and carried a cargo of
+molasses, rice, and tobacco from New Orleans to Christiania.</p>
+
+<p>After leaving New Orleans early in April, 1903, she encountered roughish
+weather in the Gulf of Mexico. But it was not until they had passed the
+Tortugas group that Captain Westrup suspected that there was anything
+radically wrong with the machinery. The <i>Miosen</i> was fitted with
+old-fashioned Glasgow engines, and carried a sail in case of emergency. At
+Key West she put in for four days to see if the engineer could patch up the
+propeller sufficiently to enable the vessel to cross the Atlantic. "It was
+at Key West," said Captain Westrup, "I met an old fellow-mariner, a Swede.</p>
+
+<p>"'Going down the river?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I laughed, not understanding the joke.</p>
+
+<p>"'No; I'm crossing the Atlantic,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"I then told him about the fractured propeller.</p>
+
+<p>"'Take my advice,' he said, 'and go by the river route. Like as not you'll
+drift the whole way, and if you're in no hurry you can give your engines a
+rest. A single sheet to the wind will do your job.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was the first time I had heard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> expression 'river' as applied to
+the Gulf Stream. The idea entertained me. I already began to regard my
+forthcoming trip as a mere jaunt down a river, and with this in my head I
+took pains to note everything of interest connected with this stupendous
+stream. And here let me say that two leagues to the south-east of Key West
+the Gulf mariners point to a buoy labelled in prominent letters 'F. C.,'
+which stands for Florida Channel. It marks the end of the Gulf of Mexico
+and the beginning of the Atlantic River."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p458a.jpg" width="500" height="404" alt="THE BUOY IN FLORIDA CHANNEL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE BUOY IN FLORIDA CHANNEL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The machinery of the <i>Miosen</i> was patched up by the 5th April, and on the
+following morning the crew had hoisted her solitary sail and departed from
+Key West. All along south of the Florida reef they had constant glimpses of
+tarpon, devil-fish, and barracuda, the mightiest fish in the Gulf Stream.
+For it must be understood that whales and sharks avoid the greatest river
+in the world. We will explain why later. During the next few days they
+frequently saw tarpon (<i>Megalops Atlanticus</i>) six feet long, reminding one
+of gigantic herring. Some of them must have weighed one hundred and fifty
+pounds; and the one which nearly boarded the steamer, leaping into the air
+a foot from the bows of the <i>Miosen</i>, was fully this weight.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p458b.jpg" width="550" height="382" alt="KEY WEST.
+
+From a Photo. by the Photochrom Co." title="" />
+<span class="caption">KEY WEST.<br /><br />
+
+From a Photo. by the Photochrom Co.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I had heard stories at Key West about the barracuda, which is harpooned
+very much in the way whales are, although it is a somewhat smaller fish
+than the tarpon. My friend Captain Altsen told me he had once gone out in a
+small dinghy off the Keys with a Seminole Indian who was an adept at
+spearing barracuda. Armed with a long, slender pole tipped with a barb, to
+which a long rope was fastened, the native had speared the fish, which
+darted away like 'greased lightning,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> actually towing the boat a full mile
+before he was hauled aboard exhausted. He said it was pretty exciting
+sport, and jokingly suggested my engaging a school of barracuda to tow the
+<i>Miosen</i> to Stockholm. He observed, however, that they would probably leave
+the ship at Tindh&ouml;lm, as they only frequent the Gulf Stream.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p459a.jpg" width="500" height="579" alt="&quot;THE FISH DARTED AWAY LIKE &#39;GREASED LIGHTNING.&#39;&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE FISH DARTED AWAY LIKE &#39;GREASED LIGHTNING.&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p459b.jpg" width="500" height="195" alt="PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN BY THE MATE OF THE &quot;MIOSEN&quot; IN LATITUDE 30,
+LONGITUDE 82, SHOWING THE DIFFERENT ASPECT OF THE GREAT RIVER AND THE
+OCEAN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN BY THE MATE OF THE &quot;MIOSEN&quot; IN LATITUDE 30,
+LONGITUDE 82, SHOWING THE DIFFERENT ASPECT OF THE GREAT RIVER AND THE
+OCEAN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I may mention that at the beginning our speed was between four and five
+knots an hour, but we hardly averaged more than about fifty knots a day.
+There was little wind to speak of. On the 8th we had a fair breeze, which
+sent us along a couple of knots faster. The speed of the current is, I am
+told, wholly regulated by the presence or absence of wind; but I give the
+normal time. As we rounded the south coast of Florida we encountered huge
+flocks of birds wending their way northward. Anything more placid and
+beautiful than the Gulf Stream at this point cannot be imagined. The water
+is a brilliant blue, like the Bay of Naples, while in the far distance may
+be seen the dark green of the ocean. The temperature of the water I
+ascertained to be seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit; that of the Atlantic
+could hardly have been above forty-five degrees. Off Bebini we observed a
+curious sight, which more than ever impressed the idea of a river on our
+minds, and this occurred several times in the course of our long trip. The
+presence of a stiff land breeze blew us out of the channel to the very edge
+of the Stream, whose boundaries were here as clearly marked as that of the
+Mississippi. Great quantities of driftwood and flotsam of all sorts,
+including canes and palm leaves, floated in a long, thin line extending for
+miles, forming natural banks to the world's greatest river. My mate took a
+photograph<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> of this phenomenon, together with others, but, unluckily, in
+developing them later, all were more or less spoiled, although some idea
+may be got from the one showing the aspect of the Stream. We also observed
+numerous flying-fish, which, curiously enough, rarely, if ever, deviated
+from the path of the Stream, as if they were quite aware of its course and
+boundaries."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p460a.jpg" width="550" height="363" alt="DIAGRAM SHOWING THE COURSE OF THE GULF STREAM." title="" />
+<span class="caption">DIAGRAM SHOWING THE COURSE OF THE GULF STREAM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>From this point the river flows straight to the north, pressing through the
+ocean with a width of nearly thirty-seven miles, and of an average depth of
+two hundred fathoms. The mass of water has been estimated at some
+forty-five millions of cubic yards a second. The mean discharge of the
+Mississippi is barely twenty-five thousand cubic yards.</p>
+
+<p>As the Gulf Stream expands and spreads in its northward and easterly
+course, its depth becomes proportionately less considerable. The strata of
+cold water which serve as its banks retire on each side and allow it more
+breadth. The cold bed of water which bears it, and over which it flows, as
+terrestrial rivers glide over beds of rocks, gradually approaches nearer
+the surface. Off Cape Hatteras the depth is about one hundred and twenty
+fathoms, and its speed does not exceed three miles an hour, but it is twice
+as wide as when it emerges from the Strait of Florida. Its width is here
+seventy-eight miles. Its thickness, of course, constantly diminishes until
+it is only a thin sheet of warm water on the other side of the Atlantic,
+and is gradually dissipated in the sub-Arctic sea.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p460b.jpg" width="450" height="409" alt="THE &quot;CITY OF SAVANNAH,&quot; WRECKED IN THE GREAT STORMS OF
+1893." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE &quot;CITY OF SAVANNAH,&quot; WRECKED IN THE GREAT STORMS OF
+1893.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>As the travellers proceeded almost due north the island of Great Bahama
+soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> came to form the eastern boundary of the Gulf Stream. In this
+locality many fearful storms have occurred, for when the river is angry it
+is one of the most fearful places in the world for a ship to be. It is said
+that the whole of the Bahama Islands which lie scattered through the sea to
+the east of the Gulf Stream rest on a foundation of submarine banks formed
+by the deposits of the river. The same may be said of the islands which
+line the coasts of Georgia and the Carolinas on the west. Off one of these
+islands the captain distinctly made out the wreck of a large craft,
+floating free on the edge of this current, which he has since been told was
+the <i>City of Savannah</i>, wrecked in the great storms of 1893. Derelicts are
+common in these parts, no fewer than forty having been reported last year.</p>
+
+<p>Long ago the soundings taken by the officers of the American Coast Survey
+showed, according to Lieut. Maury, that the Gulf Stream flows along the
+coast of America at some distance from the land. The slight inclination of
+the low lands of Georgia and Carolina is continued under water till the
+sounding line attains a depth of about fifty fathoms. The bottom then sinks
+rapidly and forms a long valley parallel to the shore of America and the
+chalky walls of the Appalachian range. In this valley, hollowed to the east
+of the submarine basement of America, the Gulf Stream waters flow. Owing to
+the rotatory motion of the globe and also to the curve of the coasts, the
+Stream follows a constant direction to the north-east. Off New York and
+Cape Cod it deviates more and more to the east. It ceases to follow the
+coast-line, and rolls across the open Atlantic towards the shores of
+Western Europe. Thus, as Maury says, if an enormous cannon had force enough
+to send a bullet from the Strait of the Bahamas to the North Pole the
+projectile would follow almost exactly the curve of the Gulf Stream and,
+gradually deviating on its way, reach Europe from the west.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p461.jpg" width="406" height="500" alt="THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHTSHIP, WHICH MARKS THE SITE OF AN OCEAN
+GRAVEYARD." title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHTSHIP, WHICH MARKS THE SITE OF AN OCEAN
+GRAVEYARD.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>We have spoken of the driftwood boundaries of the Gulf Stream; but there is
+an even more pronounced barrier easily ascertained by a use of the
+thermometer. The warmest and most rapid part of the Gulf Stream is that in
+most immediate juxtaposition to a sheet of cold water flowing in an
+opposite direction off Carolina which bounds our river like a wall of ice.
+Occasionally the line of demarcation is so precise that it is visible to
+the naked eye, and the exact moment when a ship leaves the cold current and
+its prow cleaves the Gulf Stream may be observed. The latter waters are of
+a beautiful azure, that of the counter-current is greenish; one is
+saturated with salt, the other contains the mineral to a far slighter
+extent. But the chief distinction is that one is tepid, the other frigid as
+ice.</p>
+
+<p>On the 21st one of the men reported having sighted a light to the north,
+and had also clearly heard a distant bell tolling. This was probably the
+South Shoal Lightship, which marks the site of an ocean graveyard
+hereabouts. This lightship, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> crew of a dozen men, has been adrift
+nearly thirty times in the course of her history, and was once fourteen
+days in the Gulf Stream. She is a schooner or barge of two hundred and
+seventy-five tons, about one hundred feet long, chained to an anchor of
+three and a half tons. But it is said the life aboard is so unbearably
+monotonous to the crew that they cut the chain and so send the lightship
+adrift. The skipper was glad when the Gulf Stream carried him away from the
+neighbourhood, for he was reminded that over five hundred wrecks have taken
+place some leagues to the northward of his course.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p462.jpg" width="550" height="376" alt="&quot;THE TEMPERATURE OF THE STREAM WAS DISAGREEABLE TO HIM.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE TEMPERATURE OF THE STREAM WAS DISAGREEABLE TO HIM.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The <i>Miosen</i> was now bound almost due east, as if headed for the Azores,
+for the great river curves at this point. Just south of Halifax, in
+longitude sixty-five degrees, they came across their first iceberg,
+drifting on the very edge of the stream. There is nothing so unhealthy for
+an iceberg as the Gulf Stream, and an iceberg seems to know it. When,
+however, it is fairly caught in its clutches it soon melts away to
+nothingness before it has been carried many leagues eastward, all
+depending, of course, upon its size. As with icebergs, so with whales, as
+we have already mentioned. The vessel encountered a whale later in
+longitude fifty, but it was obvious that the temperature of the Stream was
+disagreeable to him, for he soon headed again for the Arctic regions. Other
+whales make a dash through or remain by the side of the big river and so
+reach lower latitudes, but a brief sojourn is enough for them. The Gulf
+Stream is a river which can boast everything maritime but whales.</p>
+
+<p>The great river just touches the southern extremity of the Grand Banks of
+Newfoundland. This bank of Newfoundland, an enormous plateau surrounded on
+all sides by abysses five to six miles deep, is chiefly due to the contact
+of the Arctic current with the Gulf Stream. For here is the chief graveyard
+of icebergs. On entering the tepid waters of the river the frozen mountains
+gradually melt and let fall the fragments of rock and loads of earth they
+bear into the sea. The bank, which rises gradually from the bottom, is the
+work of the Greenland glaciers and the floes of the Polar Sea. It is the
+presence of the Gulf Stream in these latitudes which is the cause of the
+prevalent fogs not only here, but in the islands off Europe. From here
+onward a sailor can always tell whether or not he is in the Stream by
+plunging a thermometer overboard. Capt. Westrup found that it crosses the
+Atlantic with a mean speed of twenty-four knots a day. This had previously
+been ascertained, according to Maury, by direct measurement at different
+parts of the ocean, or by means of notes, which, having been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> thrown
+overboard in bottles, carefully closed, have floated for weeks or months at
+the will of the waves, and then been fished up in other latitudes or found
+on some seashore. In its long journey this mighty river transports hardly
+any other alluvium than the living frustules of animalcul&aelig; which fill the
+tepid waters of the current, and are constantly falling like snowflakes to
+the bottom of the ocean. However, during the whole distance across the
+<i>Miosen</i> constantly met with the trunks and branches of trees, cane stalks,
+and woody flotsam, much of which finally reaches the coasts of Europe, even
+as far as Spitzbergen.</p>
+
+<p>"It was," says M. Reclus, "these remains which our ancestors of the Middle
+Ages believed to come from the fabulous island of St. Brandan or from
+Antilia, and which furnished matter for thought to daring navigators like
+the great Columbus. Seeds carried from the New World by the current have
+found a favourable soil on the shores of the Azores, and, although many
+thousands of miles from their native land, have germinated and borne fruit.
+Frequently the Gulf Stream brings to Europe the damaged products of human
+industry and the timber of wrecked ships. During the Seven Years' War the
+main-mast of an English man-of-war, the <i>Tilbury</i>, which had been burnt
+near San Domingo, was found on the northern coasts of Scotland. Also, a
+river-boat laden with mahogany was once driven to the F&auml;r&ouml;e Islands. The
+remnants of vessels wrecked in the latitude of Guinea have reached the
+British Isles on the Gulf Stream, and Esquimaux canoes have often been
+carried on its waves to the Orkneys."</p>
+
+<p>The F&auml;r&ouml;e Islands formed the temporary stopping-place of the <i>Miosen</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," states the captain, "we disembarked at Thorshaven on May 13th. On
+the morning of the 12th we sighted Tindh&ouml;lm, which is generally regarded as
+the barrier or point marking the end of the longest river in the world. We
+had begun our voyage at its source, and had traversed four thousand two
+hundred and twelve miles to its mouth, where the waters spread out into the
+great North Sea."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p463.jpg" width="550" height="362" alt="APPROACH TO THE F&Auml;R&Ouml;E ISLANDS&mdash;THE END OF THE GULF STREAM.
+
+From a Photo." title="" />
+<span class="caption">APPROACH TO THE F&Auml;R&Ouml;E ISLANDS&mdash;THE END OF THE GULF STREAM.<br />
+From a Photo.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Of the incalculable benefit to the climate of the British Isles and Western
+Europe which the Gulf Stream confers, one need not here pretend to speak.
+The river waters lose their warmth but slowly, and during winter they often
+have, off Cape Hatteras and the bank of Newfoundland, a temperature
+twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit above that of the ocean. Thus they become a
+source of heat to Western Europe. Owing to the warmth of its waters the
+lakes of the F&auml;r&ouml;e and Shetland Isles never freeze in winter. Great Britain
+is enveloped in fogs and the myrtle grows on Irish shores in the same
+latitude as icy Labrador. The western coasts of Ireland have five degrees
+higher temperature even than those of the eastern, and there the
+fifty-second degree of latitude corresponds to the thirty-eighth degree in
+America. All this is ascribed, and rightly, to the proximity of the world's
+greatest river.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="The_Phoenix_and_the_CarpetA" id="The_Phoenix_and_the_CarpetA"></a><span class="smcap">The Phoenix and the Carpet.</span><a name="FNanchor_A_4" id="FNanchor_A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_4" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2>
+
+<h3>BY E. NESBIT</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p464a.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3>X.&mdash;THE HOLE IN THE CARPET.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hooray! hooray! hooray!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother comes home to-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother comes home to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hooray! hooray! hooray!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast, and the Ph&oelig;nix shed
+crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"How beautiful," it said, "is filial devotion!"</p>
+
+<p>"She won't be home till past bed-time, though," said Robert. "We might have
+one more carpet-day."</p>
+
+<p>He was glad that mother was coming home&mdash;quite glad, very glad; but at the
+same time that gladness was rudely contradicted by a quite strong feeling
+of sorrow, because now they could not go out all day on the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish we could go and get something nice for mother, only she'd want
+to know where we got it," said Anthea. "And she'd never, never believe the
+truth. People never do, somehow, if it's at all interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what," said Robert. "Suppose we wished the carpet to take us
+somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it&mdash;then we could buy
+her something."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose it took us somewhere foreign, and the purse was covered with
+strange Eastern devices, embroidered in rich silks, and full of money that
+wasn't money at all here, only foreign curiosities, then we couldn't spend
+it, and people would bother about where we got it, and we shouldn't know
+how on earth to get out of it all." Cyril moved the table off the carpet as
+he spoke, and its leg caught in one of Anthea's darns and ripped away most
+of it, as well as a large slit in the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now you <i>have</i> done it," said Robert.</p>
+
+<p>But Anthea was a really first-class sister. She did not say a word till she
+had got out the Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool, and the
+darning-needle and the thimble and the scissors, and by that time she had
+been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly
+disagreeable, and was able to say quite kindly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Squirrel, I'll soon mend it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril thumped her on the back. He understood exactly how she had felt, and
+he was not an ungrateful brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Respecting the purse containing coins," the Ph&oelig;nix said, scratching its
+invisible ear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> thoughtfully with its shining claw, "it might be as well,
+perhaps, to state clearly the amount which you wish to find, as well as the
+country where you wish to find it, and the nature of the coins which you
+prefer. It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse
+containing but three oboloi."</p>
+
+<p>"How much is an oboloi?"</p>
+
+<p>"An obol is about twopence halfpenny," the Ph&oelig;nix replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Jane, "and if you find a purse I suppose it is only because
+someone has lost it, and you ought to take it to the policeman."</p>
+
+<p>"The situation," remarked the Ph&oelig;nix, "does indeed bristle with
+difficulties."</p>
+
+<p>"What about a buried treasure," said Cyril, "and everyone was dead that it
+belonged to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother wouldn't believe <i>that</i>," said more than one voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose," said Robert&mdash;"suppose we asked to be taken where we could find a
+purse and give it back to the person it belonged to, and they would give us
+something for finding it?"</p>
+
+<p>"We aren't allowed to take money from strangers. You know we aren't, Bobs,"
+said Anthea, making a knot at the end of a needleful of Scotch
+heather-mixture fingering wool (which is very wrong, and you must never do
+it when you are darning).</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>that</i> wouldn't do," said Cyril. "Let's chuck it and go to the North
+Pole, or somewhere really interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the girls together, "there must be <i>some</i> way."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a sec," Anthea added. "I've got an idea coming. Don't speak."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence as she paused with the darning-needle in the air.
+Suddenly she spoke:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Let's tell the carpet to take us somewhere where we can get the
+money for mother's present, and&mdash;and&mdash;and get it some way that she'll
+believe in and not think wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must say you are learning the way to get the most out of the
+carpet," said Cyril. He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual, because
+he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the
+carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Ph&oelig;nix, "you certainly are. And you have to remember
+that if you take a thing out it doesn't stay in."</p>
+
+<p>No one paid any attention to this remark at the time, but afterwards
+everyone thought of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Do hurry up, Panther," said Robert; and that was why Anthea did hurry up
+and why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby
+like a fishing-net, not tight and close like woven cloth, which is what a
+good, well-behaved darn should be like.</p>
+
+<p>Then everyone put on its outdoor things, the Ph&oelig;nix fluttered on to the
+mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass, and then all was
+ready. Everyone got on to the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Please go slowly, dear carpet," Anthea began; "we like to see where we're
+going." And then she added the difficult wish that had been decided on.</p>
+
+<p>Next moment the carpet, stiff and raft-like, was sailing over the roofs of
+Kentish Town.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish&mdash;&mdash;No, I don't mean that. I mean it's a <i>pity</i> we aren't higher
+up," said Anthea, as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney-pot.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right. Be careful," said the Ph&oelig;nix, in warning tones. "If you
+wish when you're on a Wishing Carpet, you <i>do</i> wish, and there's an end of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm
+magnificence over St. Pancras and King's Cross stations and over the
+crowded streets of Clerkenwell.</p>
+
+<p>"We're going out Greenwich way," said Cyril, as they crossed the streak of
+rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. "We might go and have a look at
+the Palace."</p>
+
+<p>On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the chimney-pots
+than the children found at all comfortable. And then, just over New Cross,
+a terrible thing happened.</p>
+
+<p>Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was on the
+carpet, and part of them&mdash;the heaviest part&mdash;was on the great central darn.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very misty," said Jane; "it looks partly like out of doors and
+partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was going to have
+measles; everything looked awfully rum then, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel just exactly the same," Robert said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the hole," said the Ph&oelig;nix; "it's not measles, whatever that
+possession may be."</p>
+
+<p>And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly and at once made a bound to try
+and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the darn <i>gave way</i> and
+their boots went up, and the heavy heads and bodies of them went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> down
+<i>through the hole</i>, and they landed in a position something between sitting
+and sprawling on the flat leads on the top of a high, grey, gloomy,
+respectable house whose address was 705, Amersham Road, New Cross.</p>
+
+<p>The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of
+their weight, and rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and peeped
+over the edge of the rising carpet.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p466.jpg" width="500" height="521" alt="&quot;&#39;ARE YOU HURT?&#39; CRIED CYRIL.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;ARE YOU HURT?&#39; CRIED CYRIL.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" cried Cyril, and Robert shouted "No," and next moment the
+carpet had sped away, and Jane and Robert were hidden from the sight of the
+others by a stack of smoky chimneys.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how awful!" said Anthea.</p>
+
+<p>"It might have been worse," said the Ph&oelig;nix. "What would have been the
+sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were
+crossing the river?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there's that," said Cyril, recovering himself. "They'll be all right.
+They'll howl till someone gets them down, or drop tiles into the front
+garden to attract the attention of passers-by. Bobs has got my one and
+five-pence&mdash;lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, Panther, or he
+wouldn't have had it. They can tram it home."</p>
+
+<p>But Anthea would not be comforted.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all my fault," she said. "I <i>knew</i> the proper way to darn, and I
+didn't do it. It's all my fault. Let's go home and patch the carpet with
+your Etons&mdash;something really strong&mdash;and send it to fetch them."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Cyril; "but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my Etons.
+We must just chuck mother's present, that's all. I wish&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" cried the Ph&oelig;nix; "the carpet is dropping to earth."</p>
+
+<p>And indeed it was.</p>
+
+<p>It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford
+Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally
+walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind
+a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the
+Deptford Road noticed it. The Ph&oelig;nix rustled its way into the breast of
+Cyril's coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>They were face to face with their pet uncle&mdash;their Uncle Reginald.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p467.jpg" width="550" height="377" alt="&quot;IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A
+GATE-POST.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A
+GATE-POST.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"We <i>did</i> think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson,"
+said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could
+believe.</p>
+
+<p>"And where are the others?" asked Uncle Reginald.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't exactly know," Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Uncle Reginald, "I must fly. I've a case in the County Court.
+That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can't take the chances
+of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted
+Hall and give you lunch at the Ship afterwards! But, alas! it may not be."</p>
+
+<p>The uncle felt in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> mustn't enjoy myself," he said, "but that's no reason why you
+shouldn't. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you
+<i>some</i> desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu."</p>
+
+<p>And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and
+high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange
+eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Anthea.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said the Ph&oelig;nix.</p>
+
+<p>"Good old carpet," said Cyril, joyously.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>was</i> clever of it&mdash;so adequate and yet so simple," said the Ph&oelig;nix,
+with calm approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come on home and let's mend the carpet. I am a beast. I'd forgotten
+the others, just for a minute," said the conscience-stricken Anthea.</p>
+
+<p>They unrolled the carpet quickly and slily&mdash;they did not want to attract
+public attention&mdash;and the moment their feet were on the carpet Anthea
+wished to be at home, and instantly they were.</p>
+
+<p>The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them to
+go to such extremes as Cyril's Etons or Anthea's Sunday jacket for the
+patching of the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn together,
+and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned
+American oil-cloth which careful housewives use to cover dressers and
+kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could think of.</p>
+
+<p>Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth. The
+nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did not feel
+so sure as he had done about their being able to "tram it" home. So he
+tried to help Anthea, which was very good for him, but not much use to her.</p>
+
+<p>The Ph&oelig;nix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and
+more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on one
+gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p468.jpg" width="401" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;GOOD OLD CARPET,&#39; SAID CYRIL, JOYOUSLY.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;GOOD OLD CARPET,&#39; SAID CYRIL, JOYOUSLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert&mdash;who set my egg to
+hatch&mdash;in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so
+pleasantly! I think, if you'll excuse me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;<i>do</i>," cried Anthea. "I wish we'd thought of asking you before."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sun-bright wings and
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"So <i>that's</i> all right," said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly
+pricking his hand in a new place.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Of course, I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this
+time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but&mdash;what happened to Jane and
+Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the house
+which was called number 705, Amersham Road.</p>
+
+<p>But I had to tell you the other first. That is one of the most annoying
+things about stories. You cannot tell all the different parts of them at
+the same time.</p>
+
+<p>Robert's first remark when he found himself seated on the damp, cold, sooty
+leads was:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Here's a go!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane's first act was tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Dry up, Pussy; don't be a little duffer," said her brother, kindly. "It
+will be all right."</p>
+
+<p>And then he looked about, just as Cyril had known he would, for something
+to throw down, so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below in
+the street. He could not find anything. Curiously enough there were no
+stones on the leads, not even a loose tile. The roof was of slate, and
+every single slate knew its place and kept it. But, as so often happens, in
+looking for one thing he found another. There was a trap-door leading down
+into the house.</p>
+
+<p>And that trap-door was not fastened.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop snivelling and come here, Jane," he cried, encouragingly. "Lend a
+hand to heave this up. If we can get into the house we might sneak down
+without meeting anyone, with luck. Come on."</p>
+
+<p>They heaved up the door till it stood straight up, and, as they bent to
+look into the hole below, the door fell back with a hollow clang on the
+leads behind, and with its noise was mingled a blood-curdling scream from
+underneath.</p>
+
+<p>"Discovered!" hissed Robert. "Oh, my cats alive!"</p>
+
+<p>They were indeed discovered.</p>
+
+<p>They found themselves looking down into an attic, which was also a
+lumber-room. It had boxes and broken chairs, old fenders and
+picture-frames, and rag-bags hanging from nails.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the floor was a box, open, half full of clothes. Other
+clothes lay on the floor in neat piles. In the middle of the piles of
+clothes sat a lady, very flat indeed, with her feet sticking out straight
+in front of her. And it was she who had screamed, and who, in fact, was
+still screaming.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't!" cried Jane, "please don't! We won't hurt you."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the rest of your gang?" asked the lady, stopping short in the
+middle of a scream.</p>
+
+<p>"The others have gone on, on the Wishing Carpet," said Jane, truthfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The Wishing Carpet?" said the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Jane, before Robert could say, "You shut up!" "You must have
+read about it. The Ph&oelig;nix is with them."</p>
+
+<p>Then the lady got up, and picking her way carefully between the piles of
+clothes she got to the door and through it. She shut it behind her, and the
+two children could hear her calling "Septimus! Septimus!" in a loud yet
+frightened way.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Robert, quickly; "I'll drop first."</p>
+
+<p>He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap-door.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you. Hang by your hands. I'll catch you. Oh, there's no time for jaw.
+Drop, I say."</p>
+
+<p>Jane dropped.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 414px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p469.jpg" width="414" height="550" alt="&quot;JANE DROPPED.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;JANE DROPPED.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Robert tried to catch her, and even before they had finished the breathless
+roll among the piles of clothes, which was what his catching ended in, he
+whispered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We'll hide&mdash;behind those fenders and things; they'll think we've gone
+along the roofs. Then, when all is calm, we'll creep down the stairs and
+take our chance."</p>
+
+<p>They hastily hid. A corner of an iron bedstead struck into Robert's side,
+and Jane had only standing room for one foot&mdash;but they bore it&mdash;and when
+the lady came back, not with Septimus, but with another lady, they held
+their breath and their hearts beat thickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Gone!" said the first lady; "poor little things&mdash;quite mad, my dear&mdash;and
+at large! We must lock this room and send for the police."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me look out," said the second lady, who was, if possible, older and
+thinner and primmer than the first. So the two ladies dragged a box under
+the trap-door and put another box on the top of it, and then they both
+climbed up very carefully and put their two trim, tidy heads out of the
+trap-door to look for the "mad children."</p>
+
+<p>"Now," whispered Robert, getting the bedstead-leg out of his side.</p>
+
+<p>They managed to creep out from their hiding-place and out through the door
+before the two ladies had done looking out of the trap-door on to the empty
+leads.</p>
+
+<p>Robert and Jane tiptoed down the stairs&mdash;one flight, two flights. Then they
+looked over the banisters. Horror! a servant was coming up with a loaded
+scuttle.</p>
+
+<p>The children with one consent crept swiftly through the first open door.</p>
+
+<p>The room was a study, calm and gentle, manly, with rows of books, a
+writing-table, and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the
+fender. The children hid behind the window-curtains. As they passed the
+table they saw on it a missionary-box with its bottom label torn off, open
+and empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how awful!" whispered Jane. "We shall never get away alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Robert, not a moment too soon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> for there were steps on the
+stairs, and next instant the two ladies came into the room. They did not
+see the children, but they saw the empty missionary-box.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it," said one. "Selina, it <i>was</i> a gang. I was certain of it from
+the first. The children were not mad. They were sent to distract our
+attention while their confederates robbed the house."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid you are right," said Selina; "and <i>where are they now</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Downstairs, no doubt, collecting the silver milk-jug and sugar-basin and
+the punch-ladle that was Uncle Joe's, and Aunt Jerusha's teaspoons. I shall
+go down."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be so rash and heroic," said Selina. "Amelia, we must call the
+police from the window. Lock the door. I <i>will</i>&mdash;I will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The words ended in a yell as Selina, rushing to the window, came face to
+face with the hidden children.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't!" said Jane; "how can you be so unkind? We <i>aren't</i> burglars,
+and we haven't any gang, and we didn't open your missionary-box. We opened
+our own once, but we didn't have to use the money, so our consciences made
+us put it back and&mdash;&mdash;<i>Don't!</i> Oh, I wish you wouldn't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Selina had seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert. The children
+found themselves held fast by strong, slim hands, pink at the wrists and
+white at the knuckles.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got <i>you</i>, at any rate," said Miss Amelia. "Selina, your captive is
+smaller than mine. You open the window at once and call 'Murder!' as loud
+as you can."</p>
+
+<p>Selina obeyed; but when she had opened the window, instead of calling
+"Murder!" she called "Septimus!" because at that very moment she saw her
+nephew coming in at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>In another minute he had let himself in with his latch-key and had mounted
+the stairs. As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek
+of joy so loud and so sudden that the ladies leaped with surprise and
+nearly let them go.</p>
+
+<p>"It's our own clergyman," cried Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you remember us?" asked Robert. "You married our burglar for
+us&mdash;don't you remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>knew</i> it was a gang," said Amelia. "Septimus, these abandoned children
+are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house. They
+have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 478px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p470.jpg" width="478" height="500" alt="&quot;&#39;DON&#39;T YOU REMEMBER US?&#39; ASKED ROBERT. &#39;YOU MARRIED OUR
+BURGLAR FOR US.&#39;&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;DON&#39;T YOU REMEMBER US?&#39; ASKED ROBERT. &#39;YOU MARRIED OUR
+BURGLAR FOR US.&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I feel a little faint," he said, "running upstairs so quickly."</p>
+
+<p>"We never touched the beastly box," said Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Then your confederates did," said Miss Selina.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said the curate, hastily. "<i>I</i> opened the box myself. This
+morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers' Independent
+Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose this is <i>not</i> a
+dream, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it."</p>
+
+<p>The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of course,
+was blamelessly free of burglars.</p>
+
+<p>When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you going to let us go?" asked Robert, with furious indignation,
+for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood
+of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair. "We've never done
+anything to you. It's all the carpet. It dropped us on the leads. <i>We</i>
+couldn't help it. You know how it carried you over to the island, and you
+had to marry the burglar to the cook."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my head!" said the curate.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind your head just now," said Robert; "try to be honest and
+honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!"</p>
+
+<p>"This is a judgment on me for something, I suppose," said the Reverend
+Septimus, wearily, "but I really cannot at the moment remember what."</p>
+
+<p>"Send for the police," said Miss Selina.</p>
+
+<p>"Send for a doctor," said the curate.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they <i>are</i> mad then?" said Miss Amelia.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I am," said the curate.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had been crying ever since her capture. Now she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You aren't now, but perhaps you will be, if&mdash;&mdash;And it would serve you
+jolly well right, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Selina," said the curate, "and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only
+an insane dream. You will realize it soon. It has happened to me before.
+But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream. Do not hold the children;
+they have done no harm. As I said before, it was I who opened the box."</p>
+
+<p>The strong, bony hands unwillingly loosed their grasp. Robert shook himself
+and stood in sulky resentment. But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him
+so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a dear," she said. "It is like a dream just at first, but you get
+used to it. Now <i>do</i> let us go. There's a good, kind, honourable
+clergyman."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p471.jpg" width="500" height="453" alt="&quot;JANE RAN TO THE CURATE AND EMBRACED HIM.&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;JANE RAN TO THE CURATE AND EMBRACED HIM.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said the Reverend Septimus; "it's a difficult problem. It
+is such a very unusual dream. Perhaps it's only a sort of other life&mdash;quite
+real enough for you to be mad in. And if you're mad there might be a
+dream-asylum where you'd be kindly treated, and in time restored, cured, to
+your sorrowing relatives. It is very hard to see your duty plainly, even in
+ordinary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> life, and these dream-circumstances are so complicated&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If it's a dream," said Robert, "you will wake up directly, and then you'd
+be sorry if you'd sent us into a dream-asylum, because you might never get
+into the same dream again and let us out, and so we might stay there for
+ever, and then what about our sorrowing relatives who aren't in the dreams
+at all?"</p>
+
+<p>But all the curate could now say was, "Oh, my head!"</p>
+
+<p>And Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness. A
+really conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage.</p>
+
+<p>And then, just as the hopelessness and the helplessness were getting to be
+almost more than they could bear, the two children suddenly felt that
+extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you are just
+going to vanish. And the next moment they had vanished, and the Reverend
+Septimus was left alone with his aunts.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it was a dream," he cried, wildly. "I've had something like it
+before. Did you dream it too, Aunt Selina, and you, Aunt Amelia? I dreamed
+that you did, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia. Then she said, boldly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean? <i>We</i> haven't been dreaming anything. You must have
+dropped off in your chair."</p>
+
+<p>The curate heaved a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if it's only <i>I</i>," he said; "if we'd all dreamed it I could never have
+believed it, never!"</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards Aunt Selina said to the other aunt:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know it was an untruth, and I shall doubtless be punished for it in
+due course. But I could see the poor, dear fellow's brain giving way before
+my very eyes. He couldn't have stood the strain of <i>three</i> dreams. It <i>was</i>
+odd, wasn't it? All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same moment.
+We must never tell dear Seppy. But I shall send an account of it to the
+Psychical Society, with stars instead of names, you know."</p>
+
+<p>And she did. And you can read all about it in one of the society's fat
+Blue-books.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Of course, you understand what had happened?</p>
+
+<p>The intelligent Ph&oelig;nix had simply gone straight off to the psammead, or
+sand-fairy, who gives wishes and had wished Robert and Jane at home. And,
+of course, they were at home at once. Cyril and Anthea had not half
+finished mending the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little they all went
+out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presents for
+mother. They bought her a pink silk handkerchief, a pair of blue and white
+vases, a bottle of scent, a packet of Christmas candles, and a cake of soap
+shaped and coloured like a tomato, and one that was so like an orange that
+almost anyone you had given it to would have tried to peel it&mdash;if they
+liked oranges, of course. Also they bought a cake with icing on, and the
+rest of the money they spent in flowers to put in the vases.</p>
+
+<p>When they had arranged all the things on a table, with the candles stuck up
+on a plate ready to light the moment mother's cab was heard, they washed
+themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Then Robert said, "Good old psammead," and the others said so too.</p>
+
+<p>"But, really, it's just as much good old Ph&oelig;nix," said Robert. "Suppose
+it hadn't thought of getting the wish!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said the Ph&oelig;nix, "it is perhaps fortunate for you that I am such a
+competent bird."</p>
+
+<p>"There's mother's cab," cried Anthea, and the Ph&oelig;nix bird and they
+lighted the candles, and next moment mother's cab was home again.</p>
+
+<p>She liked her presents very much, and found their story of Uncle Reginald
+and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe.</p>
+
+<p>"Good old carpet," were Cyril's last sleepy words.</p>
+
+<p>"What there is of it," said the Ph&oelig;nix, from the cornice-pole.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_4" id="Footnote_A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_4"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="The_Making_of_a_Lily" id="The_Making_of_a_Lily"></a><i>The Making of a Lily.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By F. Martin Duncan.</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 375px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p473a1.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="1.&mdash;A &quot;CROWN&quot; OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, SHOWING THE
+UNDERGROUND STEM WITH NEXT YEAR&#39;S BUDS." title="" />
+<span class="caption">1.&mdash;A &quot;CROWN&quot; OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, SHOWING THE
+UNDERGROUND STEM WITH NEXT YEAR&#39;S BUDS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 362px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p473a2.jpg" width="362" height="500" alt="2.&mdash;A RETARDED &quot;CROWN&quot; OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY BEFORE
+BEING PLANTED IN THE FORCING-HOUSE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">2.&mdash;A RETARDED &quot;CROWN&quot; OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY BEFORE
+BEING PLANTED IN THE FORCING-HOUSE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>To the question, "What are your favourite flowers?" a large majority of
+people will be found to promptly answer, "Lilies." And every year these
+beautiful flowers seem to become more and more popular. They have a charm
+peculiarly their own, unmatched by any other flower; while a halo of
+romance has encompassed them from the earliest dawn of civilization,
+inspiring poets, painters, and all lovers of the beautiful in Nature.</p>
+
+<p>North, south, east, and west collectors have travelled, diligently seeking
+for new species, until a wonderful collection of all sorts, shapes, and
+sizes of lilies has been brought together, to enrich our gardens and
+greenhouses with their graceful forms and delicate tints. But in spite of
+all this continual importation of gorgeous and distinguished foreigners,
+flaunting it bravely in scarlet and gold, our own native lily of the valley
+still ranks first favourite in the hearts of the people. Nor is this
+constancy surprising, for what can be more charming than the exquisite cool
+green of its foliage or the sweet, fresh fragrance of the clusters of its
+pure white flowers?</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 268px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p473c.jpg" width="268" height="500" alt="3.&mdash;AFTER A WEEK IN THE FORCING-HOUSE THE BUD BEGINS TO
+SWELL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">3.&mdash;AFTER A WEEK IN THE FORCING-HOUSE THE BUD BEGINS TO
+SWELL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Partly on account of its graceful shape and sweet scent, the pure white of
+its blossoms and delicate green of its foliage, the lily of the valley has
+become one of the most important flowers for bouquets and floral
+decorations, often being used on the most opposite occasions&mdash;for the
+bridal bouquet and the funeral wreath&mdash;yet never appearing out of place or
+incongruous; while at Yule-tide it is nowadays in as great demand as the
+holly for decorating our homes and churches. Consequently there is now a
+steadily-growing demand for lilies of the valley throughout the year.</p>
+
+<p>Now, in its natural state, growing at its own sweet will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> in our woods, the
+lily of the valley flowers only in the spring of the year, just as the
+earliest spring flowers are beginning to fade; while later in the year its
+leafless flower-stem bears numerous pretty, globular-shaped red berries,
+the seeds from which future generations of lilies will spring. Besides its
+seeds, the lily of the valley has another method of perpetuating the
+species by means of its subterranean creeping root-stock, on which a new
+bud, or series of buds, appears annually, each bud ultimately developing
+the orthodox two leaves, from the centre of which rises the flower-stem. As
+the flowers and foliage of the present year begin to fade, those buds on
+the underground stem which represent next year's supply of flowers are seen
+to increase somewhat in size. During the cold winter months they rest and
+remain practically inactive, awaiting the first warm breath of spring,
+which is the signal for them to start into active growth.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 237px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p474a1.jpg" width="237" height="500" alt="4.&mdash;IN TEN DAYS SOME APPRECIABLE GROWTH IS MADE." title="" />
+<span class="caption">4.&mdash;IN TEN DAYS SOME APPRECIABLE GROWTH IS MADE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 234px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p474a2.jpg" width="234" height="500" alt="5.&mdash;FOURTEEN DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE TIGHTLY-FOLDED FOLIAGE LEAVES
+AND FLOWER STEM HAVE DEVELOPED." title="" />
+<span class="caption">5.&mdash;FOURTEEN DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE TIGHTLY-FOLDED FOLIAGE LEAVES
+AND FLOWER STEM HAVE DEVELOPED.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The peculiar underground stem of the lily of the valley is known amongst
+gardeners as the "crown." For a long time the autumn and winter demand for
+flowers of the lily of the valley was met by digging up the crowns out of
+the gardens or woods, placing them in pots filled with rich soil, and
+forcing their growth in the hothouse. Now, curious to say, although the
+lily crowns responded to this treatment and sent up their flower-stems,
+they absolutely declined to develop any foliage, probably because they had
+been deprived of their winter rest and the opportunity to store up the
+requisite strength for building up both flowers and foliage; moreover, the
+blossoms of these forced crowns were often very small in size.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 246px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p474b.jpg" width="246" height="500" alt="6.&mdash;EIGHTEEN DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE CREAMY-WHITE LEAVES BEGIN TO
+SWELL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">6.&mdash;EIGHTEEN DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE CREAMY-WHITE LEAVES BEGIN TO
+SWELL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Many eminent florists, both in England and on the Continent, dissatisfied
+with such results, set to work to solve the difficulty of growing both
+foliage and flowers of the lily of the valley all the year round. The task
+was a troublesome one, though not quite so hopeless as it would appear to
+the uninitiated, for these flower specialists knew that crowns which were
+taken out of the ground at the end of the winter and forced would
+frequently develop both foliage and flowers.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 242px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p474c.jpg" width="242" height="500" alt="7.&mdash;TWENTY-ONE DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE GAINING ITS GREEN
+TINT AND THE FLOWER-BUDS SHOWING." title="" />
+<span class="caption">7.&mdash;TWENTY-ONE DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE GAINING ITS GREEN
+TINT AND THE FLOWER-BUDS SHOWING.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>At last, after numerous experiments had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> been tried, a method was evolved
+whereby it became possible to supply the markets of the world with both
+large and handsome flowers and foliage of the lily of the valley all the
+year round, from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve. The crowns are now
+collected before the new buds have made much growth, and subjected to a
+process of refrigeration which takes the place of the winter sleep, and by
+which means they can be stored for a long time without injury. Four or five
+weeks before the flowers and foliage are required the crowns are planted in
+the hothouse, and kept at a temperature of about 75 deg. Fahr. during the
+whole period of their growth.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 258px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p475a1.jpg" width="258" height="500" alt="8.&mdash;TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE BEGINNING TO
+UNFURL." title="" />
+<span class="caption">8.&mdash;TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE BEGINNING TO
+UNFURL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 249px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p475a2.jpg" width="249" height="500" alt="9.&mdash;THIRTY-ONE DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FLOWER-STEM RAPIDLY
+GROWING." title="" />
+<span class="caption">9.&mdash;THIRTY-ONE DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FLOWER-STEM RAPIDLY
+GROWING.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>When taken from the refrigerator the lily crown, technically known on the
+market as a "retarded crown," has a somewhat dry, brownish appearance. A
+week spent in the rich soil and hot, humid atmosphere of the forcing-house
+causes the bud to swell and begin to grow. In ten days it is seen to have
+really made some appreciable growth. At the end of fourteen days the
+creamy-white, tightly-folded foliage leaves and the tip of the flower-stem
+are seen to have developed, the leaves broadening out somewhat about the
+eighteenth day. In twenty-one days the still folded leaves have gained a
+delicate, pale greenish hue, and the flower-buds have begun to make
+themselves plainly visible upon the flower-stem. Twenty-eight days finds
+the leaves a slightly deeper green in tint and beginning to unfurl; while
+the flower-stem is now more slowly developing, showing a close
+approximation to the order of growth under natural conditions. In thirty
+days the flower-stem begins to put on a spurt and catch up with the leaves
+in growth. Thirty-six days from the planting of the retarded crown the
+fully-formed flower-buds begin to open, and a day or two later the plant is
+in full bloom and the foliage and flowers are ready for the market.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 264px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p475a3.jpg" width="264" height="500" alt="10.&mdash;THIRTY-SIX DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE FULLY DEVELOPED
+AND THE FLOWER-BUDS BEGINNING TO OPEN." title="" />
+<span class="caption">10.&mdash;THIRTY-SIX DAYS&#39; GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE FULLY DEVELOPED
+AND THE FLOWER-BUDS BEGINNING TO OPEN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 260px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p475b.jpg" width="260" height="500" alt="11.&mdash;THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS GROWTH. THE FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE READY
+FOR MARKET." title="" />
+<span class="caption">11.&mdash;THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS GROWTH. THE FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE READY
+FOR MARKET.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="Curiosities" id="Curiosities"></a><i>Curiosities.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.</h3>
+
+<p>[<i>We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section, and to pay for
+such as are accepted.</i>]</p>
+
+
+<h3>AN EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 145px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p476a.jpg" width="145" height="250" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>"Whilst lifting a dish of apples from the table one of the apples fell from
+the dish to the wineglass and remained in the position shown in the
+photograph. It did not upset the glass, although it was empty. The
+edge of the glass had cut into the apple, so retaining it in
+position."&mdash;Lieut.-Col. G. T. Trueman, Brooklands, Mansfield Road, Reading.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE.</h3>
+
+<p>"The bridge shown in the photograph carries with it a curious legend, which
+runs somewhat as follows. Once upon a time there was no bridge at all, and
+a ford was the only means at the disposal of the local inhabitants. One
+day, owing to a flood, an old woman was unable to cross the river to sell
+her wares at the village market. She began to cry. The Devil hearing her
+sobs came to her and said he would build a bridge across the river, on
+condition that he had the very first living being that crossed the bridge
+after market time, his Satanic Majesty knowing very well that the old woman
+was always the first on the journey back. The woman promised, and the Devil
+soon built the bridge. The woman on returning from market was about to step
+upon the bridge when she suddenly remembered what the Devil had said. Not
+knowing what to do, she went to the priest and confessed everything. The
+worthy priest, giving her a cake, advised her to throw it to the other side
+of the bridge and let her dog run after it. This she did, and the Devil was
+so angry at being cheated of his prey that he dropped a corner of his apron
+and the stones fell to the bottom of the river, where they may be seen to
+this day."&mdash;Mr. J. B. Mather, 21, Liverpool Road, Birkdale, near Southport.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p476c.jpg" width="450" height="315" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>A CYCLONIC FREAK.</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p476b.jpg" width="450" height="362" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"On Saturday afternoon, October 3rd, 1903, a cyclone passed over the State
+of Wisconsin from the south-west corner to the north-east corner, doing
+considerable damage to life and property. At the time I was employed as a
+local man on the <i>Waupaca Post</i>, and was detailed to write up the results
+of the storm in that neighbourhood. At a point about seven miles north of
+Waupaca, near the village of Scandinavia, I found that the wind had
+demolished a farm-house and that an ordinary cabinet photo. had been blown
+from a table in the front room and driven about one-half its area into a
+solid oak tree by the side of the road. The tree was badly broken above,
+but perfectly solid at the point where the picture was driven in. I took
+hold of the card and pulled as hard as I dared, but found it to be quite
+immovable."&mdash;Mr. Thos. L. Jacobs, Sumner, Washington.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>WHEN IS A MONKEY NOT A MONKEY?</h3>
+
+<p>"When it is a Japanese fern tree like that shown in my photograph. The
+Japanese people are fond of shaping fern roots so as to resemble animals,
+and when the fern grows a little judicious clipping of the fronds adds much
+to the realistic and often grotesque effect."&mdash;Miss Emmons, Mount Vernon,
+Leamington.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p477a.jpg" width="500" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>SCRAP-IRON <i>v.</i> EVIL SPIRITS.</h3>
+
+<p>"In the southern part of the United States one of the superstitions of the
+negroes is that fruit trees should be protected from evil spirits by
+hanging upon them iron in some form. According to their belief, if the
+trees do not have some such safeguard the spirits will enter the trunk and
+branches and prevent the trees from bearing. The accompanying photograph
+shows a peach tree in Maryland which was protected from the evil spirits in
+this way. Suspended from the trunk and branches are chains, stove lids,
+hoops, grates, and iron nails collected by the owner of the tree from piles
+of old metal for this purpose. It is a peculiar fact, however, that the
+tree has borne large crops of peaches each year it has thus been
+protected."&mdash;Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p477c.jpg" width="450" height="509" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>"NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION."</h3>
+
+<p>"I send you a photograph showing a unique umbrella which sheltered two
+young ladies under it during a violent thunderstorm. While spending my
+holiday in the Blue Mountains of Sullivan County, New York, I decided to
+take a trip to Minisink Battlefield, in the town of Highland, where, on
+July 22nd, 1779, a tribe of Indians, led by the noted half-breed, Joseph
+Brant, massacred a band of white soldiers, who had made an heroic fight and
+had gained the upper hand, when they discovered that their ammunition had
+given out. A rude monument of stone marks the spot, and while I was taking
+a photograph of it the storm broke. Our party found temporary shelter in an
+abandoned hut in a quarry at the mountain top, but being miles from our
+stopping-place, and having failed to provide ourselves with even a single
+umbrella, one of the party, Mr. Ralph Austin, saw possibilities in the
+umbrella line when I folded up my rubber-coated focusing cloth. A birch
+sapling furnished the rod, and branches of maple trees were made to serve
+as ribs. These were held in place by strips torn from a handkerchief. Then
+the focusing cloth was stretched across the frame and tied down at the
+corners with more strips from the handkerchief. The homeward journey was
+then begun, and for a distance of nearly four miles the young ladies walked
+under the umbrella, which thoroughly protected them from the rain. They
+were so pleased with this ingenious umbrella that they insisted upon being
+photographed under it."&mdash;Mr. Adolph A. Langer, 116, Danforth Avenue, Jersey
+City, N.J.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p477b.jpg" width="300" height="406" alt="" title="" />
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>BEAVERS' WORK.</h3>
+
+<p>"This photograph shows the remarkable work of what are known as
+dam-building beavers. The little animals sometimes construct barriers of
+brushwood and clay in creeks to form their winter habitations. Occasionally
+they use pieces of timber of quite large size. The logs which are shown in
+this picture were actually cut by their sharp teeth, and were found in the
+swamp occupied by a beaver colony near Stroudsburg, Pa. The work was done
+so nicely that the wood appears as if hewn with an axe. Pieces of this size
+were used to strengthen the dam and were gnawed from limbs of trees, some
+of which were over six inches in diameter. As will be noted, one bears a
+remarkable resemblance to a horse's hoof."&mdash;Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p478a.jpg" width="500" height="289" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>CATALEPTIC RIGIDITY.</h3>
+
+<p>"This is a rather uncommon photograph of a man whilst under hypnotic
+influence, lying on an upturned stool, bearing the weight of three people
+on his body. His feet are resting on one leg and his neck on the other
+without any support between. The photograph was taken without the knowledge
+of the subject."&mdash;Mr. E. E. Vinnicombe, Gloucester Row, Weymouth.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p478b.jpg" width="500" height="404" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>OLD-FASHIONED SURGERY.</h3>
+
+<p>"The accompanying photograph of a mural tablet in St. Sampson's Church,
+Guernsey, the inscription on which is in French, brings the surgical skill
+of to-day into striking contrast with that of a hundred years ago. For the
+benefit of those who do not care to try their eyesight in reading the small
+type, or who do not understand French, I have translated the latter and
+more interesting part of the inscription into English, as follows: 'This
+monument is erected to their memory, and also to that of their eldest son,
+Thomas Falla, Lieutenant of the 12th Regiment of Infantry, who died at the
+siege of Seringapatam, April 6th, 1799, aged eighteen years, six months,
+twenty-five days, as the result of a wound of a solid cannon ball weighing
+twenty-six pounds, which had lodged between the two bones of one of his
+thighs. The said wound having become considerably inflamed, the surgeon of
+the regiment, after he had examined the injury, was unaware that the ball
+was enclosed in it, and it was only after his death, which took place six
+hours after the event, that it was extracted, to the surprise of the whole
+Army.' The solid cannon ball referred to, of twenty-six pounds in weight,
+must have been five and three-quarter inches in diameter; it is astounding
+to contemplate that the regimental surgeon was unable to detect the
+presence of this huge mass of iron in the unfortunate officer's
+thigh."&mdash;Mr. Arthur D. Moullin, "Cintra," Swanage, Dorset.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p478c.jpg" width="500" height="405" alt="" title="" />
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A SHAM STRONG MAN.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p479a1.jpg" width="250" height="436" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"The picture of the 'Strong Man' was taken as follows: A section of bark
+was removed from a partly rotten log, a thin slice being then sawn off the
+log and placed in one end of the bark. This hollow sham was shouldered by
+the 'Strong Man' whilst a friend snapped the shutter."&mdash;Mr. Paul Drake,
+Green Lake Post Office, Seattle, Washington.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3>THE POWER OF A GROWING TREE.</h3>
+
+<p>"At the time of the American occupation in Cuba a number of anchors were
+thrown aside by the Americans in the Havana Navy Yard. Since then the tree
+shown in the photograph has grown up. It is known in Cuba as the
+'Frambollan,' or Royal Ponciana. The tree has caught the anchor and lifted
+it bodily from the ground, one end of the anchor being twenty-one inches
+from the ground and the other twenty-five inches, although, if measurements
+were not taken, it would appear as if both sides were perfectly even. The
+anchor weighs about four thousand five hundred pounds. The photograph was
+taken by Mr. Marcos Mor&eacute;, Pe&ntilde;a Pobre 27, Havana, Cuba."&mdash;Mr. J. A. del
+Solar, Room 818, 108, Fulton Street, New York.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p479b.jpg" width="550" height="426" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>WOMEN COALING A STEAMER IN JAPAN.</h3>
+
+<p>"This photograph, which was taken in the harbour at Yokohama, shows one
+side of a liner with many ladders running up from numerous coal barges
+which surround the ship. The curious, and at the same time interesting,
+point of the photograph lies in the fact that the coaling is carried out by
+gangs of girls. They use little round baskets, which they pass from one
+hand to another with amazing rapidity. Many of the figures which appear in
+the photograph to be boys are not really so, for the dress of the girls is
+in many ways of the masculine type&mdash;the large figure in the foreground is a
+typical specimen of this. By the following figures one can realize the
+speed with which the coal is put on board. One of the 'Empress' line of
+steamers has had 1,360 tons loaded in this way in four hours, which is at
+the rate of 5.7 tons per minute."&mdash;Mr. S. Edward Ould, 47, Gloucester
+Square, Hyde Park, W.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 439px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p479a2.jpg" width="439" height="476" alt="" title="" />
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"A RUBBING STONE FOR ASSES."</h3>
+
+<p>"About the middle of the seventeenth century there stood an inn at the
+corner of the old Chester road in Lower Bebington (near Birkenhead). The
+loafers of the neighbourhood used to hang about the corner and loll against
+the wall of this inn, which very much annoyed the innkeeper. Being an
+ingenious man, he hit upon the following way of ridding himself of the
+annoyance. He put a tablet in the wall (right-hand side of photo.), of
+which none of them could understand the meaning for some time. At last one
+of the sharpest found that by running the letters together a sentence was
+formed, reading, 'A Rubbing Stone for Asses.' Of course, this effectually
+cleared the loafers. The puzzle on the middle stone is solved thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>987654321</td><td align='left'>(=45)</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>minus</td><td align='left'>123456789</td><td align='left'>(=45)</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="3">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>=</td><td align='left'>864197532</td><td align='left'>(=45)</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>The worthy innkeeper's name (see third stone) was Mark Noble, and his sign
+was 'The Two Crowns,' the thirty shillings being made up by&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>Mark</td><td align='left'>=</td><td align='right'>13s.</td><td align='right'>4d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Noble</td><td align='left'>=</td><td align='right'>6s.</td><td align='right'>8d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Two Crowns</td><td align='left'>=</td><td align='right'>10s.</td><td align='right'>0d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td colspan="2">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>30s.</td><td align='right'>0d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td colspan="2">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>The lettering of the stones has been recut lately to preserve it."&mdash;Mr. T.
+H. Lee, 122, St. Domingo Vale, Liverpool.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p480a.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>ENGLISH AS SHE IS MURDERED.</h3>
+
+<p>"The accompanying is a faithful copy of an address of welcome presented to
+the passengers of the s.y. <i>Argonaut</i> on the occasion of their visit to
+Messene. Though a very amusing curiosity as regards the writer's
+manipulation of the English language, it cannot fail to convey to the
+'grand swans of strong Albion' the feeling of respect and admiration in
+which they are held by the people of Greece."&mdash;Mr. Arthur Williamson, 17,
+Union Square, S.E.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p481b1.jpg" width="550" height="508" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>A SNAIL FARM.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 299px;">
+<img src="images/ill_p481b2.jpg" width="299" height="450" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>"This is a photograph of a snail farm which I took last summer at
+Engelberg, near Lucerne. The owner of the farm is a peasant and he has over
+three thousand Roman snails, some of them of immense size. He sends them to
+Italy and Paris. They are worth about three a penny, and when dressed and
+cooked ready for eating they sell for nearly two shillings a dozen."&mdash;Miss
+I. M. Fairbairn, Wood Rising, Rye, Sussex.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII,
+Issue 160, April, 1904, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,7550 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII, Issue
+160, April, 1904, 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 XXVII, Issue 160, April, 1904
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2011 [EBook #37484]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Dianna Adair, Jonathan Ingram, Josephine
+Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF TWELVE, AND HER MOTHER.
+
+_From an Unpublished Photograph by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+
+
+
+THE STRAND MAGAZINE.
+
+Vol. xxvii.      APRIL, 1904.       No. 160.
+
+
+
+
+_The Memoirs of Sarah Bernhardt._
+
+Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+     [These Memoirs, written by the greatest actress of our
+     time, will give not only the story of her career in the
+     theatrical world, but also in social life, in which she
+     has, of course, met nearly all the celebrated people of
+     the day, from Royalties downwards, and will be found
+     throughout of the most striking interest to all classes
+     of readers.]
+
+
+CHAPTER I.--CHILDHOOD.
+
+My mother was fond of travelling: she would go from Spain to England, from
+London to Paris, from Paris to Berlin, and from there to Christiania; then
+she would come back, embrace me, and set out again for Holland, her native
+country. She used to send my nurse clothing for herself and cakes for me.
+To one of my aunts she would write: "Look after little Sarah; I shall
+return in a month's time." A month later she would write to another of her
+sisters: "Go and see the child at her nurse's; I shall be back in a couple
+of weeks."
+
+[Illustration: MME. SARAH BERNHARDT'S DEDICATORY LETTER.
+
+SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THIS MAGAZINE.
+
+"Je suis heureux de dedier le premier chapitre de mes Memoires au peuple
+anglais, qui, le premier de tous les peuples etrangers, m'a accueillie avec
+une si grande bienveillance qu'il m'a fait croire en moi.--SARAH BERNHARDT,
+Paris, 1904."
+
+TRANSLATION.--"I am pleased to dedicate the first chapter of my Memoirs to
+the English people, who, first among all foreign nations, welcomed me with
+such great kindness that they made me believe in myself."]
+
+My mother's age was nineteen; I was three years old, and my two aunts were
+seventeen and twenty years of age; another aunt was fifteen, and the eldest
+was twenty-eight, but the last one lived at Martinique, and was the mother
+of six children. My grandmother was blind, my grandfather dead, and my
+father had been in China for the last two years. I have no idea why he had
+gone there.
+
+My youthful aunts always promised to come to see me, but rarely kept their
+word. My nurse hailed from Brittany and lived near Quimperle, in a little
+white house with a low thatched roof, on which wild gillyflowers grew.
+That was the first flower which charmed my eyes as a child, and I have
+loved it ever since. Its leaves are heavy and sad-looking, and its petals
+are made of the setting sun.
+
+Brittany is a long way off, even in our present epoch of velocity. In those
+days it was the end of the world. Fortunately my nurse was, it appears, a
+good, kind woman, and, as her own child had died, she had only me to love.
+But she loved after the manner of poor people, when she had time.
+
+One day, as her husband was ill, she went into the fields to help gather in
+potatoes; the over-damp soil was rotting them, and there was no time to be
+lost. She left me in charge of her husband, who was lying on his Breton
+bedstead suffering from a bad attack of lumbago. The good woman had placed
+me in my high chair, and had been careful to put in the wooden peg which
+supported the narrow tablet for my toys. She threw a fagot in the grate,
+and said to me in Breton language (until the age of four I only understood
+Breton), "Be a good girl, Milk Blossom." That was my only name at the time.
+When she had gone I tried to withdraw the wooden peg which she had taken so
+much trouble to put in place. Finally I succeeded in pushing aside the
+little rampart. I wanted to reach the ground, but--poor little me!--I fell
+into the fire, which was burning joyfully.
+
+[Illustration: SARAH BERNHARDT'S HOME IN BRITTANY WHEN SHE WAS A CHILD.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The screams of my foster-father, who could not move, brought in some
+neighbours. I was thrown, all smoking, into a large pail of fresh milk. My
+aunts were informed of what had happened; they communicated the news to my
+mother, and for the next four days that quiet part of the country was
+ploughed by stage-coaches, which arrived in rapid succession. My aunts came
+from all parts of the world; and my mother, in the greatest alarm, hastened
+from Brussels with Baron Larrey, one of her friends, who was a celebrated
+doctor, and a surgeon whom Baron Larrey had brought with him. I have been
+told since that nothing was more painful to witness, and yet so charming,
+as my mother's despair. The doctor approved of the "mask of butter," which
+was changed every two hours.
+
+Dear Baron Larrey! I often saw him afterwards, and now and again we shall
+meet him in the pages of my Memoirs. He used to tell me in such charming
+fashion how those kind folks loved Milk Blossom. And he could never refrain
+from laughing at the thought of that butter. There was butter everywhere,
+he used to say; on the bedsteads, on the cupboards, on the chairs, on the
+tables, hanging up on nails in bladders. All the neighbours used to bring
+butter to make masks for Milk Blossom.
+
+Mother, admirably beautiful, looking like a Madonna, with her golden hair
+and her eyes fringed with such long lashes that they made a shadow on her
+cheeks when she bent her eyes, distributed money on all sides. She would
+have given her golden hair, her slender white fingers, her tiny feet, her
+life itself, in order to save the child. And she was as sincere in her
+despair and her love as in her unconscious forgetfulness. Baron Larrey left
+for Paris, leaving my mother, Aunt Rosine, and the surgeon with me.
+Forty-two days later mother took in triumph to Paris the nurse, the
+foster-father, and me, and installed us in a little house at Neuilly, on
+the banks of the Seine. I had not even a scar, it appears. My skin was
+rather too bright a pink, but that was all. My mother, happy and trustful
+once more, began to travel again, leaving me in care of my aunts.
+
+Two years were spent in the little garden at Neuilly, which was full of
+horrible dahlias, growing close together and coloured like woollen balls.
+My aunts never came there. My mother used to send money, bonbons, and toys.
+The foster-father died, and my nurse married a concierge, who used to pull
+open the door at 65, Rue de Provence.
+
+Not knowing where to find my mother, and not being able to write, my
+nurse--without telling any of my friends took me with her to her new abode.
+
+The change delighted me. I was five years old at the time, and I remember
+the day as if it were yesterday. My nurse's abode was just over the doorway
+of the house, and the window was framed in the heavy and monumental door.
+From outside I thought it was beautiful, and I began to clap my hands on
+reaching the house. It was towards five o'clock in the evening in the month
+of November, when everything looks grey. I was put to bed, and no doubt I
+went to sleep at once, for there end my souvenirs of that day.
+
+The next morning there was terrible grief in store for me. There was no
+window in the little room in which I slept, and I began to cry, and escaped
+from the arms of my nurse, who was dressing me, so that I could go into the
+adjoining room. I ran to the round window, which was an immense
+"bull's-eye" above the doorway, I pressed my stubborn brow against the
+glass and began to scream with rage on seeing no trees; no box-wood, no
+leaves falling, nothing, nothing but stone--cold, grey, ugly stone, and
+panes of glass opposite me. "I want to go away. I don't want to stay here.
+It is all black, black! It is ugly! I want to see the ceiling of the
+street!" and I burst into tears. My poor nurse took me up in her arms and,
+folding me in a rug, took me down into the courtyard. "Lift up your head,
+Milk Blossom, and look! See, there is the ceiling of the street!"
+
+It comforted me somewhat to see that there was some sky in this ugly place,
+but my little soul was very sad. I could not eat, and I grew pale and
+became anaemic, and I should certainly have died of consumption if it had
+not been for a mere chance, a most unexpected incident. One day I was
+playing in the courtyard with a little girl named Titine, who lived on the
+second floor, and whose face or real name I cannot recall. I saw my nurse's
+husband walking across the courtyard with two ladies, one of whom was most
+fashionably attired. I could only see their backs, but the voice of the
+fashionably-attired lady caused my heart to stop beating. My poor little
+body trembled with nervous excitement.
+
+"Do any of the windows look on to the courtyard?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, madame, those four," he replied, pointing to four open ones on the
+first floor.
+
+The lady turned to look at them, and I uttered a cry of joy.
+
+"Aunt Rosine! Aunt Rosine!" I exclaimed, clinging to the skirts of the
+pretty visitor. I buried my face in her furs, stamping, sobbing, laughing,
+and tearing her wide lace sleeves in my frenzy of delight. She took me in
+her arms and tried to calm me, and, questioning the concierge, she
+stammered out to her friend, "I can't understand what it all means! This is
+little Sarah! My sister Youle's child!"
+
+The noise I made had attracted attention, and people opened their windows.
+My aunt decided to take refuge in the concierge's lodge, in order to come
+to an explanation. My poor nurse told her all that had taken place--her
+husband's death and her second marriage. I do not remember what she said to
+excuse herself. I clung to my aunt, who was deliciously perfumed, and I
+would not let go of her.
+
+She promised to come the following day to fetch me, but I did not want to
+stay any longer in that dark place. I asked to start at once with my nurse.
+My aunt stroked my hair gently, and spoke to her friend in a language I did
+not understand. She tried in vain to explain something to me--I do not know
+what it was--but I insisted that I wanted to go away with her at once. In
+a gentle, tender, caressing voice, but without any real affection, she said
+all kinds of pretty things, stroked me with her gloved hands, patted my
+frock, which was turned up, and made any amount of charming, frivolous
+little gestures, but all without any real feeling. She then went away, at
+her friend's entreaty, after emptying her purse in my nurse's hands. I
+rushed towards the door, but the husband of my nurse, who had opened it for
+her, now closed it again. My nurse was crying, and, taking me in her arms,
+she opened the window, saying to me: "Don't cry, Milk Blossom; look at your
+pretty aunt. She will come back again, and then you can go away with her."
+
+[Illustration: RUE DE PROVENCE, WHERE SARAH BERNHARDT, AT THE AGE OF FIVE,
+WAS TAKEN TO LIVE WITH HER NURSE.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert Paris._]
+
+Great tears rolled down her calm, round, handsome face. I could see nothing
+but the dark, black hole which remained there immutable behind me, and in a
+fit of despair I rushed out to my aunt, who was just getting into a
+carriage. After that I knew nothing more; everything seemed dark; there was
+a noise in the distance. I could hear voices far, far away. I had managed
+to escape from my poor nurse and had fallen down on the pavement in front
+of my aunt. I had broken my arm in two places and injured my left knee-cap.
+I only came to myself again a few hours later, to find that I was in a
+beautiful wide bed which smelt very nice. It stood in the middle of a large
+room, with two lovely windows, which made me very joyful, for I could see
+the ceiling of Heaven through them.
+
+My mother, who had been sent for immediately, came to take care of me, and
+I saw the rest of my family, my aunts and my cousins. My poor little brain
+could not understand why all these people should suddenly be so fond of me,
+when I had passed so many days and nights only cared for by one single
+person.
+
+As I was weakly and my bones were small and friable, I was two years
+recovering from this terrible fall, and during that time was nearly always
+carried about. I will pass over these two years of my life, which have left
+me only a vague memory of being petted, and of a chronic state of torpor.
+
+One day my mother took me on her knees and said to me, "You are a big girl
+now, and you must learn to read and write." I was then seven years old and
+could neither read, write, nor count, as I had been five years with the old
+nurse and two years ill. "You must go to school," continued my mother,
+playing with my curly hair, "like a big girl." I did not know what all this
+meant, and I asked what a school was.
+
+"It's a place where there are many little girls," replied my mother.
+
+"Are they ill?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, no. They are quite well, like you are now, and they play together, and
+are very gay and happy."
+
+I jumped about in delight and gave free vent to my joy, but on seeing tears
+in my mother's eyes I flung myself in her arms.
+
+"But what about you, mamma?" I asked. "You will be all alone and you won't
+have any little girl."
+
+She bent down to me and said, "God has told me that he will send me some
+flowers and a little baby."
+
+My delight was more and more boisterous. "Then I shall have a little
+brother!" I exclaimed, "or else a little sister! Oh, no, I don't want
+that; I don't like little sisters!"
+
+Mamma kissed me very affectionately, and then I was dressed, I remember, in
+a blue corded velvet frock, of which I was very proud. Arrayed thus in all
+my splendour, I waited impatiently for Aunt Rosine's carriage, which was to
+take us to Auteuil.
+
+It was about three o'clock when she arrived. The housemaid had gone on
+about an hour before, and I had watched with delight my little trunk and my
+toys being packed into the carriage. The maid climbed up and took the seat
+by the driver, in spite of my mother protesting at first against this. When
+my aunt's magnificent equipage arrived, mamma was the first to get in,
+slowly and calmly. I got in slowly too, giving myself airs because the
+concierge and some of the shop-keepers were watching. My aunt then sprang
+in lightly, but by no means calmly, after giving her orders in English to
+the stiff, ridiculous-looking coachman, and handing him a paper on which
+the address was written. Another carriage followed ours, in which three men
+were seated: Regis L----, a friend of my father's, General de P----, and an
+artist named Fleury, I think, whose pictures of horses and sporting
+subjects were very much in vogue just then.
+
+I heard on the way that these gentlemen were going to arrange about a
+little dinner near Auteuil to console mamma for her great trouble in being
+separated from me. Some other guests were to be there to meet them. I did
+not pay very much attention to what my mother and my aunt said to each
+other. Sometimes when they spoke of me they talked either English or
+German, and smiled at me affectionately. The long drive was greatly
+appreciated by me, for, with my face pressed against the window and my eyes
+wide open, I gazed out eagerly at the grey, muddy road, with its ugly
+houses on each side and its bare trees. I thought it was all very
+beautiful--because it kept changing.
+
+The carriage stopped at 18, Rue Boileau, Auteuil. On the iron gate was a
+long, dark signboard, with gold letters. I looked up at it, and mamma said:
+"You will be able to read that soon, I hope." My aunt whispered to me,
+"Boarding School. Madame Fressard," and, very promptly, I said to mamma:
+"It says, 'Boarding School. Madame Fressard.'"
+
+[Illustration: THE EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENT AT AUTEUIL WHERE SARAH
+BERNHARDT PASSED SOME OF HER EARLY YEARS.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Mamma, my aunt, and the three gentlemen laughed heartily at my assurance,
+and we entered the house. Mme. Fressard came forward to meet us, and I
+liked her at once. She was of medium height, rather stout, with a small
+waist, and her hair turning grey "en Sevigne." She had beautiful, large
+eyes, rather like George Sand's; very white teeth, which showed up all the
+more as her complexion was rather tawny. She looked healthy, spoke kindly;
+her hands were plump and her fingers long. She took my hand gently in hers
+and, half-kneeling, so that her face was level with mine, she said, in a
+musical voice, "You won't be afraid of me, will you, little girl?" I did
+not answer, but my face flushed as red as a coxcomb. She asked me several
+questions, but I refused to reply. They all gathered round me. "Speak,
+child!" "Come, Sarah, be a good girl!" "Oh, the naughty little child!"
+
+It was all in vain. I remained perfectly mute. The customary round was then
+made of the bedrooms, the dining-hall, the class-rooms, and the usual
+exaggerated compliments were paid. "How beautifully it is all kept! How
+spotlessly clean everything is!" and a hundred stupidities of this kind
+about the comfort of these prisons for children. My mother went aside with
+Mme. Fressard, and I clung to her knees so that she could not walk. "This
+is the doctor's prescription," she said, and then followed a long list of
+things that were to be done for me.
+
+Mme. Fressard smiled rather ironically. "You know, madame," she said to my
+mother, "we shall not be able to curl her hair like that." "And you
+certainly will not be able to uncurl it," replied my mother, stroking my
+head with her gloved hands. "It's a regular wig, and they must never
+attempt to comb it until it has been well brushed. They could not possibly
+get the knots out otherwise, and it would hurt her too much. What do you
+give the children at four o'clock?" she asked, changing the subject. "Oh, a
+slice of bread and just what the parents leave for them."
+
+"There are twelve pots of different kinds of jam," said my mother, "but she
+must have jam one day and chocolate another, as she has not a good
+appetite, and requires change of food. I have brought six pounds of
+chocolate." Mme. Fressard smiled in a good-natured but rather ironical way.
+She picked up a packet of the chocolate and looked at the mark.
+
+"Ah! from Marquis? What a spoilt little girl it is!" She patted my cheek
+with her white fingers, and then, as her eyes fell on a large jar, she
+looked surprised. "That's cold cream," said my mother. "I make it myself,
+and I should like my little girl's face and hands to be rubbed with it
+every night when she goes to bed."
+
+"But----" began Mme. Fressard.
+
+"Oh, I'll pay double laundry expenses for the sheets," interrupted my
+mother, impatiently. (Ah! my poor mother, I remember quite well that my
+sheets were changed once a month, like those of the other pupils.)
+
+The farewell moment came at last, and everyone gathered round mamma, and
+finally carried her off, after a great deal of kissing, and with all kinds
+of consoling words. "It will be so good for her." "It is just what she
+needs." "You'll find her quite changed when you see her again," etc., etc.
+
+The General, who was very fond of me, picked me up in his arms and tossed
+me in the air.
+
+"You little chit," he said; "they are putting you to the barracks, and
+you'll have to mind your pace!"
+
+I pulled his long moustache, and he said, winking, and looking in the
+direction of Mme. Fressard, who had a slight moustache, "You mustn't do
+that to the lady, you know!"
+
+My aunt laughed heartily, and my mother gave a little stifled laugh, and
+the whole troop went off in a regular whirlwind of rustling skirts and
+farewells, whilst I was taken away to the cage where I was to be
+imprisoned.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I spent two years at this school, and I learned to read, write, and do
+sums. I also learned plenty of new games, and to sing _rondeaux_ and
+embroider handkerchiefs for mamma.
+
+I was comparatively happy on the whole, because we went out on Sundays and
+Thursdays, and I had a sort of sensation of liberty on those days. The sun
+in the street seemed to me quite different from the sun in the big garden
+belonging to the school. My Aunt Felix Faure (no relation to the wife of
+the late President) often fetched me and took me out with her. There was a
+little brook running through the grounds round her house at Neuilly, and I
+used to spend hours fishing in it with my two cousins, a boy and a girl.
+
+These two years passed by peacefully enough, the chief events being my
+terrible fits of temper, which upset the whole school occasionally, and
+ended usually by my spending two or three days in the sick-room. One day
+Aunt Rosine arrived suddenly, to take me away altogether. My father had
+written giving orders as to where I was to be placed, and these orders were
+imperative. My mother was travelling, so she had sent word to my aunt, who
+had hurried off at once between two dances, to carry out the instructions
+she had received.
+
+The idea that I was to be ordered about without any regard to my own wishes
+or inclinations put me into an indescribable rage. I rolled about on the
+ground, uttering the most heartrending cries. I yelled out all kinds of
+reproaches, blaming mamma, my aunts, and Mme. Fressard for not finding some
+way to keep me with her. The struggle lasted two hours, and while I was
+being dressed I escaped twice into the garden and attempted to climb the
+trees and to throw myself into the pond, in which there was more mud than
+water.
+
+[Illustration: THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT, VERSAILLES.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Finally, when I was completely exhausted and subdued, I was taken off
+sobbing in my aunt's carriage.
+
+I stayed three days at her house, as I was so feverish that they all
+thought I was sickening for some illness. It proved to be nothing but the
+result of my wild fit of anger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I will pass over some pages which my readers will find later on in my
+Memoirs, and will go on to the time when I was at the Grand Champ Convent
+at Versailles, whither I had been taken after various events.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Endowed with a lively imagination and with an extremely sensitive nature,
+the Christian legend appealed both to my heart and mind. The Divine Martyr
+became my ideal, and the Mother with the Seven Sorrows I simply worshipped.
+
+An event which seemed simple enough in itself, but which was very
+important, as, indeed, everything is which disturbs, if only for an hour,
+the tranquillity of convent life, served to attach me more strongly than
+ever to this peaceful home. It seemed to me to be the place for all earthly
+happiness and the road to eternal peace in the next world.
+
+The Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur Sibour, was to honour the convent by
+paying a sacerdotal visit. It was not only the father coming to look after
+the welfare of his children, but, and more particularly this, it was the
+Prince of the Church condescending to appear in the midst of these humble
+and holy women and pure children. It was a Divine Majesty coming down from
+the throne to mingle with his human subjects.
+
+The whole convent was in a state of great excitement when the good news was
+received, and I must own that there was more enthusiasm than solemnity
+visible during the time that preceded the visit. The chapel was decorated
+with all its most special ornaments for this most special reception. The
+whole house was filled with flowers, and what particularly delighted me and
+several of my companions was that a play taken from a Biblical subject was
+rehearsed for the benefit of Monseigneur. I should not like to affirm that
+the privileged ones who were chosen to take part in this play had no vanity
+on their conscience on that particular day. It was no small glory to appear
+before a public, limited certainly in number, but so wonderfully select.
+
+I was only a fragile child at that time, interesting rather than pretty, in
+spite of my rose-coloured lips, my "heavenly eyes," as the nuns called
+them, and my light gold hair. It is from that far-back time that my
+earliest theatrical souvenirs date. It was St. Catherine's Day, a general
+holiday in all the convents for girls, but with us, this year, it was a
+very great day. Much more attention than usual had been given to the
+rehearsals of the play that was to be performed. The subject of the piece
+had been taken from the Bible. It was the journey of young Tobias, and had
+been written by Sister Therese.
+
+The girls who had _roles_ were wild with delight. They had had committee
+meetings, at which they discussed the quality of the piece, and I may add
+that it was unanimously pronounced perfectly wonderful. All around me I
+heard nothing but exclamations of joy and admiration, and I alone was
+wretched, absolutely wretched, for I had no _role_. What misery I endured
+in the midst of all this joy! My dear Mother--as we called the elder girls
+who looked after us--never thought of trying to comfort me nor yet to
+reason with me; she was too much taken up herself with the great event. I
+could, therefore, weep and fume to my heart's content. I knew all the
+_roles_ by heart, and I thought that most of the girls recited their parts
+very badly. Finally I undertook to coach Louise Bugnet in her _role_. She
+was to play the part of the guiding angel, and she could not manage it at
+all. She was ten years old, and I liked her very much. She was my special
+friend. "How silly you are!" I said to her. "If I were in your place I
+should not be at all nervous. Listen! this is how I should say it." And
+standing in front of her I went through her part, and she then repeated it
+much better after me. But the next day, at the final rehearsal, in the
+large room which we used on holidays, she was seized with such a trembling
+fit that she could not utter a single word. We were all there together, and
+Mother Sainte-Appoline was drilling us in her own way. She imitated
+Monseigneur Sibour, who was to be present at the performance, and she said,
+"When he does like this you must all clap," and when she clapped her long,
+delicate hands together, it sounded as though there were cotton-wool
+between them.
+
+I should have enjoyed all this immensely if I had not been furious. I knew
+all the _roles_ and had not a single word to say. Most of the girls were
+beaming with pride; Louise Bugnet alone was crying and sobbing. I thought
+her very stupid.
+
+"That child will never get through her part," exclaimed the Mother
+Superior.
+
+"Oh, no, I can't; I am sure I can't!" sobbed my poor little friend.
+
+There was a general uproar, and all at once I felt my childish heart leap
+with the wildest joy. The blood seemed to boil in my veins, and, rushing
+from the platform, I jumped on to a form. "Mother! Mother!" I exclaimed, "I
+know the _role_. Would you like me to take it?"
+
+Everybody was looking at me. I was trembling, but I felt quite brave. I
+knew the part and was sure of myself.
+
+Mother Sainte-Sophie, the Superior of the Convent, an adorable creature
+(one of the happy memories of my childhood), answered: "Well, my dear, let
+me hear you."
+
+I tossed back my refractory hair, and, bold and panting, proceeded to
+recite the _role_ of the guiding angel.
+
+"There!" I exclaimed, when I came to the end.
+
+My schoolfellows laughed, the sisters smiled, but, very much encouraged, I
+mounted on to the little platform and the rehearsal commenced.
+
+"It will be all right," everyone said, and I felt very proud, but still I
+was afraid lest I should not get through well enough.
+
+When the rehearsal was over the luncheon bell rang, but I could neither eat
+nor drink; I felt choked and oppressed. How many times since then I have
+had this same sensation of physical anguish!
+
+On the table there was a special treat that day--a dish of custard. I was
+very fond of this, but I could not possibly swallow anything. I glanced
+anxiously at the girls to see if they were looking or listening. They were
+eating and laughing. Louise Bugnet took my share of the custard. "Look
+here!" she said, "you've taken my _role_, so I can eat your custard." I
+began to cry, for I was very fond of custard. Fortunately, just then Sister
+Sainte-Marie came to fetch me to be dressed, otherwise I should have had a
+fit of temper, and it is quite probable that my silver goblet and my pewter
+plate would have landed in the middle of the table. I was taken into the
+large committee-room. I had never been in it before, and to my childish
+imagination there was something mysterious about it.
+
+I shuddered on entering, for it seemed to me I should hear all those rules
+that were discussed in there twice a month. A looking-glass had been
+brought in, the only one I ever saw in the convent. It belonged to Pere
+Larcher, the gardener, the only man who was free to come in and out of the
+house. The glass was too small and was framed in oak, with a bird carved on
+the top. I can see it now, with the tinfoil worn off in patches and marks
+all over it which interfered with its transparency. The nuns kept at a safe
+distance from it as though it were a danger, and their black veils were
+lowered over their white crepe ones. The sister who attended to the
+turning-box, the only one in the convent who was not cloistered (because it
+was she who had to deal with the tradesmen), was told off to dress us. She
+put a long white gown on me with large sleeves, and two beautiful white
+wings were then fastened on to me. My hair had been well curled and was
+tied over my forehead with a gold lace.
+
+[Illustration: THE GRAND CHAMP CONVENT FROM THE GARDEN.
+
+_From a Photo. by C. Robert, Paris._]
+
+Oh, dear, how my poor little heart was beating!
+
+Suddenly the convent bells began to peal gaily; a carriage rolled up into
+the courtyard and Monseigneur Sibour made his appearance.
+
+I was too little and could not see, although I did my utmost to make myself
+higher. Pere Larcher lifted me up in his arms, and then what a magnificent
+sight I beheld.
+
+Monseigneur had alighted from his episcopal carriage and Mother
+Sainte-Sophie, our Mother Superior, was kneeling down and kissing his ring.
+All the nuns, with bowed heads, were awaiting the signal to kneel down and
+receive his blessing.
+
+I thought all this very beautiful. All these black gowns with white caps,
+and then this tall man in violet, with white hair, so majestic looking, and
+yet with such a kind, fatherly expression on his face. Then, too, there
+were the carriage and the fat coachman, all bedizened and yet sitting up
+straight and looking so solemn on his draped seat, and our chaplain, both
+gentle and severe--I thought it was all superb, and I decided to become a
+nun.
+
+An hour passed by, during which I knew absolutely nothing of what was said
+or done.
+
+I was waiting, very tired after all my emotion, and half asleep, too, in
+the armchair which belonged to the old Mere Sainte-Alexis, the most aged
+member of the community.
+
+A light touch woke me. I was dreaming of my _role_ and was not, therefore,
+at all surprised. I exclaimed, as I rushed towards the door, "Ah, they are
+going to commence!"
+
+Unfortunately, I had forgotten my long dress, and I fell down in the middle
+of the room. The merriment which my accident caused put me in such a rage
+that the tears which the pain in my knees brought to my eyes dried up
+promptly. "I haven't hurt myself, there now!" I exclaimed, furious, and
+then went into the small room which was to serve as our green-room.
+
+The stage was represented by a plank of wood, which prevented our passing
+the limits arranged. There was, of course, no sign of a curtain. A wooden
+bench and a table, upon which was the frugal repast of old Tobias,
+constituted the scenery.
+
+Ah! there were also two stools, which one of the girls had to move about as
+required. When I entered our green-room the entertainment had commenced,
+but it was not time for our play. The eldest boarder was reciting the
+address which had been composed in honour of Monseigneur. Her hard, dry
+voice, repeating correctly the words she had learned, sounded to me like
+the creaking of a door. We were eleven little girls in this small room, and
+not one of us uttered a word. We could hear the beating of our hearts. Our
+feverish little hands, clasped together from habit in prayer, were
+clenched now in terror.
+
+This opening number was over at last, and the girl was presented with a
+cross that had been blessed. She assured us that she had not been nervous,
+and that it was quite easy. We had only to look at the bright light which
+the sun threw on the frame of the large picture representing Heaven, with
+all the angels. In this way each one could imagine herself alone.
+
+[Illustration: MME. SARAH BERNHARDT.
+
+_From a Photo. by Lafayette._]
+
+After this Marie Hubart played a piano-forte solo. Nothing was spared for
+this great ceremony, and then, at last, it was our turn. I will not give
+the details of the piece, as it is well known. I tell this as one of my
+souvenirs, as it was my _debut_. I came very near entering a nunnery. It
+seemed to me that there was nothing better, nothing which could make me
+happier. In my childish imagination I could see angels drawing me
+heavenwards. The only way appeared to be through the convent. In the
+meantime I was about to appear on the stage.
+
+I felt paralyzed, and a shudder ran through me from the back of my neck to
+my feet. I fancy that I missed the right moment for appearing on the scene,
+as one of the girls pushed me forward, just as my professor, Monsieur M.
+Provost, had to do some years later when I made my _debut_ in "Iphigenia"
+at the Comedie Francaise. My entrance was a success, for I had a sudden fit
+of self-assurance, although I was really half delirious with fright, and I
+went through my part very well, adding whole phrases to it. I scarcely knew
+what I was saying, but I continued nevertheless.
+
+When the piece was over the guiding angel was sent for by Monseigneur. I
+was perfectly triumphant.
+
+"What's your name, my child?" asked Monseigneur.
+
+"Sarah," I replied.
+
+"That name must be changed," he said, smiling.
+
+"Yes," answered the Superior, "her father wants her to be baptized and to
+be called Henriette; the ceremony is to take place in a month."
+
+"Well, Sarah or Henriette," said Monseigneur, "here is a medal that you
+must always wear, and the next time I come here you must recite some
+poetry, 'Esther's Prayer,' for me."
+
+Monseigneur then kissed me, and this caused some jealousy. I promised him
+that I would learn "Esther's Prayer" for his next visit. I had only a vague
+idea of what he meant by poetry. I knew some fables, but was not aware that
+they were poetry. I asked to have something to learn at once for
+Monseigneur, and "Esther's Prayer" was given to me. I began to study it
+without a moment's delay. Alas! I was never to recite it to him. A few days
+later, one morning after prayers, when we were all assembled in the chapel,
+the almoner, who was deeply moved, told us in a short address that
+Monseigneur Sibour had just been assassinated.[A] Little had we expected to
+hear such terrible news.
+
+All feelings of envy and triumph, together with the joyful remembrance of
+our _fete_, were swept away in this great grief, which, for my part, I have
+never forgotten.
+
+Assassinated! A wave of terror seemed to pass over us, and the dread word,
+echoing through the church, smote me more particularly. Had I not been
+marked out as the favourite of the moment? It was to me as though the
+murderer, Verger, had robbed me at the same time of my little share of
+glory. I began to cry, more with regret than sorrow, and the prayers for
+the dead, that we were told to say, brought my grief to a climax. I was
+carried away in a fainting-fit, and it was from that time that I was taken
+with an ardent love for mysticism, which was encouraged by our religious
+observances, the _mise-en-scene_ of our services, and perhaps, too, by the
+fervent and cajoling approval of the women who were educating me. They were
+very fond of me and I adored them, so that even now the memory of them
+thrills my heart with affection.
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] He was killed by the Abbe Verger, a priest who had been suspended from
+office, Jan. 1, 1857.
+
+
+
+
+THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES[A].
+
+By A. CONAN DOYLE.
+
+
+_VII.--The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton._
+
+It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is
+with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the
+utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the
+facts public; but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of
+human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion
+as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the
+career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me
+if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual
+occurrence.
+
+We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had
+returned about six o'clock on a cold, frosty winter's evening. As Holmes
+turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at
+it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I
+picked it up and read:--
+
+    CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON,
+    APPLEDORE TOWERS,
+    AGENT. HAMPSTEAD.
+
+"Who is he?" I asked.
+
+"The worst man in London," Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched
+his legs before the fire. "Is anything on the back of the card?"
+
+I turned it over.
+
+"Will call at 6.30--C. A. M.," I read.
+
+"Hum! He's about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson,
+when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo and see the slithery,
+gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened
+faces? Well, that's how Milverton impresses me. I've had to do with fifty
+murderers in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion
+which I have for this fellow. And yet I can't get out of doing business
+with him--indeed, he is here at my invitation."
+
+"But who is he?"
+
+"I'll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help
+the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and reputation come into
+the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and a heart of marble he will
+squeeze and squeeze until he has drained them dry. The fellow is a genius
+in his way, and would have made his mark in some more savoury trade. His
+method is as follows: He allows it to be known that he is prepared to pay
+very high sums for letters which compromise people of wealth or position.
+He receives these wares not only from treacherous valets or maids, but
+frequently from genteel ruffians who have gained the confidence and
+affection of trusting women. He deals with no niggard hand. I happen to
+know that he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in
+length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result. Everything
+which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are hundreds in this
+great city who turn white at his name. No one knows where his grip may
+fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning to work from hand to
+mouth. He will hold a card back for years in order to play it at the moment
+when the stake is best worth winning. I have said that he is the worst man
+in London, and I would ask you how could one compare the ruffian who in hot
+blood bludgeons his mate with this man, who methodically and at his leisure
+tortures the soul and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already
+swollen money-bags?"
+
+I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling.
+
+"But surely," said I, "the fellow must be within the grasp of the law?"
+
+"Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a woman,
+for example, to get him a few months' imprisonment if her own ruin must
+immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever he blackmailed
+an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him; but he is as cunning
+as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways to fight him."
+
+[Illustration: "CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON."]
+
+"And why is he here?"
+
+"Because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case in my hands. It
+is the Lady Eva Brackwell, the most beautiful _debutante_ of last season.
+She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of Dovercourt. This fiend
+has several imprudent letters--imprudent, Watson, nothing worse--which were
+written to an impecunious young squire in the country. They would suffice
+to break off the match. Milverton will send the letters to the Earl unless
+a large sum of money is paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him,
+and--to make the best terms I can."
+
+At that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below.
+Looking down I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps
+gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A footman opened
+the door, and a small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan overcoat descended.
+A minute later he was in the room.
+
+Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large, intellectual
+head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen smile, and two keen
+grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind broad, golden-rimmed glasses.
+There was something of Mr. Pickwick's benevolence in his appearance, marred
+only by the insincerity of the fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those
+restless and penetrating eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his
+countenance, as he advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring
+his regret for having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the
+outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite. Milverton's
+smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his overcoat, folded it
+with great deliberation over the back of a chair, and then took a seat.
+
+"This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it discreet? Is
+it right?"
+
+"Dr. Watson is my friend and partner."
+
+"Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I
+protested. The matter is so very delicate----"
+
+"Dr. Watson has already heard of it."
+
+"Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for Lady Eva.
+Has she empowered you to accept my terms?"
+
+"What are your terms?"
+
+"Seven thousand pounds."
+
+"And the alternative?"
+
+"My dear sir, it is painful to me to discuss it; but if the money is not
+paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the 18th." His
+insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.
+
+Holmes thought for a little.
+
+"You appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters too much for
+granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these letters. My
+client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall counsel her to tell her
+future husband the whole story and to trust to his generosity."
+
+Milverton chuckled.
+
+"You evidently do not know the Earl," said he.
+
+From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could clearly see that he did.
+
+"What harm is there in the letters?" he asked.
+
+"They are sprightly--very sprightly," Milverton answered. "The lady was a
+charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of Dovercourt
+would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think otherwise, we will
+let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of business. If you think that
+it is in the best interests of your client that these letters should be
+placed in the hands of the Earl, then you would indeed be foolish to pay so
+large a sum of money to regain them." He rose and seized his astrachan
+coat.
+
+Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.
+
+"Wait a little," he said. "You go too fast. We would certainly make every
+effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter."
+
+Milverton relapsed into his chair.
+
+"I was sure that you would see it in that light," he purred.
+
+"At the same time," Holmes continued, "Lady Eva is not a wealthy woman. I
+assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon her resources,
+and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power. I beg, therefore,
+that you will moderate your demands, and that you will return the letters
+at the price I indicate, which is, I assure you, the highest that you can
+get."
+
+Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.
+
+"I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources," said he.
+"At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a lady's marriage is
+a very suitable time for her friends and relatives to make some little
+effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to an acceptable wedding
+present. Let me assure them that this little bundle of letters would give
+more joy than all the candelabra and butter-dishes in London."
+
+"It is impossible," said Holmes.
+
+"Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!" cried Milverton, taking out a bulky
+pocket-book. "I cannot help thinking that ladies are ill-advised in not
+making an effort. Look at this!" He held up a little note with a
+coat-of-arms upon the envelope. "That belongs to--well, perhaps it is
+hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow morning. But at that time it
+will be in the hands of the lady's husband. And all because she will not
+find a beggarly sum which she could get in an hour by turning her diamonds
+into paste. It _is_ such a pity. Now, you remember the sudden end of the
+engagement between the Honourable Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two
+days before the wedding there was a paragraph in the _Morning Post_ to say
+that it was all off. And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum
+of twelve hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not
+pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms when
+your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me, Mr. Holmes."
+
+"What I say is true," Holmes answered. "The money cannot be found. Surely
+it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer than to ruin
+this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?"
+
+"There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me
+indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar cases
+maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a severe example
+of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more open to reason. You see
+my point?"
+
+Holmes sprang from his chair.
+
+"Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the
+contents of that note-book."
+
+Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and stood
+with his back against the wall.
+
+"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," he said, turning the front of his coat and
+exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside
+pocket. "I have been expecting you to do something original. This has been
+done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I assure you that I am
+armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared to use my weapons, knowing
+that the law will support me. Besides, your supposition that I would bring
+the letters here in a note-book is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so
+foolish. And now, gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this
+evening, and it is a long drive to Hampstead." He stepped forward, took up
+his coat, laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked
+up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again. With a bow,
+a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, and a few moments
+after we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle of the wheels
+as he drove away.
+
+[Illustration: "EXHIBITING THE BUTT OF A LARGE REVOLVER, WHICH PROJECTED
+FROM THE INSIDE POCKET."]
+
+Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his trouser
+pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon the glowing
+embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then, with the gesture of
+a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to his feet and passed into his
+bedroom. A little later a rakish young work-man with a goatee beard and a
+swagger lit his clay pipe at the lamp before descending into the street.
+"I'll be back some time, Watson," said he, and vanished into the night. I
+understood that he had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus
+Milverton; but I little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was
+destined to take.
+
+For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but beyond
+a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was not wasted,
+I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on a wild,
+tempestuous evening, when the wind screamed and rattled against the
+windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having removed his
+disguise he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in his silent inward
+fashion.
+
+"You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?"
+
+"No, indeed!"
+
+"You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged."
+
+"My dear fellow! I congrat----"
+
+"To Milverton's housemaid."
+
+"Good heavens, Holmes!"
+
+"I wanted information, Watson."
+
+"Surely you have gone too far?"
+
+"It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business,
+Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have talked
+with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I wanted. I
+know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand."
+
+"But the girl, Holmes?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you
+can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I
+have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back
+is turned. What a splendid night it is!"
+
+"You like this weather?"
+
+"It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house to-night."
+
+I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words, which
+were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution. As a flash of
+lightning in the night shows up in an instant every detail of a wide
+landscape, so at one glance I seemed to see every possible result of such
+an action--the detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in
+irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of
+the odious Milverton.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Holmes, think what you are doing," I cried.
+
+"My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never
+precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed so
+dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the matter
+clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the action is
+morally justifiable, though technically criminal. To burgle his house is no
+more than to forcibly take his pocket-book--an action in which you were
+prepared to aid me."
+
+I turned it over in my mind.
+
+"Yes," I said; "it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to take
+no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose."
+
+"Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the
+question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much stress
+upon this when a lady is in most desperate need of his help?"
+
+"You will be in such a false position."
+
+"Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of
+regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the money, and there
+are none of her people in whom she could confide. To-morrow is the last day
+of grace, and unless we can get the letters to-night this villain will be
+as good as his word and will bring about her ruin. I must, therefore,
+abandon my client to her fate or I must play this last card. Between
+ourselves, Watson, it's a sporting duel between this fellow Milverton and
+me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first exchanges; but my
+self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish."
+
+"Well, I don't like it; but I suppose it must be," said I. "When do we
+start?"
+
+"You are not coming."
+
+"Then you are not going," said I. "I give you my word of honour--and I
+never broke it in my life--that I will take a cab straight to the
+police-station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure
+with you."
+
+"You can't help me."
+
+"How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my
+resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and even
+reputations."
+
+Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on the
+shoulder.
+
+"Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for
+some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.
+You know, Watson, I don't mind confessing to you that I have always had an
+idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. This is the chance
+of my lifetime in that direction. See here!" He took a neat little leather
+case out of a drawer, and opening it he exhibited a number of shining
+instruments. "This is a first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with
+nickel-plated jemmy, diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable keys, and every
+modern improvement which the march of civilization demands. Here, too, is
+my dark lantern. Everything is in order. Have you a pair of silent shoes?"
+
+"I have rubber-soled tennis shoes."
+
+"Excellent. And a mask?"
+
+"I can make a couple out of black silk."
+
+"I can see that you have a strong natural turn for this sort of thing. Very
+good; do you make the masks. We shall have some cold supper before we
+start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall drive as far as Church
+Row. It is a quarter of an hour's walk from there to Appledore Towers. We
+shall be at work before midnight. Milverton is a heavy sleeper and retires
+punctually at ten-thirty. With any luck we should be back here by two, with
+the Lady Eva's letters in my pocket."
+
+Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to be two
+theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked up a hansom and
+drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid off our cab, and with our
+great-coats buttoned up, for it was bitterly cold and the wind seemed to
+blow through us, we walked along the edge of the Heath.
+
+"It's a business that needs delicate treatment," said Holmes. "These
+documents are contained in a safe in the fellow's study, and the study is
+the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other hand, like all these stout,
+little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric sleeper.
+Agatha--that's my _fiancee_--says it is a joke in the servants' hall that
+it's impossible to wake the master. He has a secretary who is devoted to
+his interests and never budges from the study all day. That's why we are
+going at night. Then he has a beast of a dog which roams the garden. I met
+Agatha late the last two evenings, and she locks the brute up so as to give
+me a clear run. This is the house, this big one in its own grounds. Through
+the gate--now to the right among the laurels. We might put on our masks
+here, I think. You see, there is not a glimmer of light in any of the
+windows, and everything is working splendidly."
+
+With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of the most
+truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent, gloomy house. A
+sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined by several
+windows and two doors.
+
+"That's his bedroom," Holmes whispered. "This door opens straight into the
+study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as locked, and we
+should make too much noise getting in. Come round here. There's a
+greenhouse which opens into the drawing-room."
+
+The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the
+key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door behind
+us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The thick, warm air of
+the conservatory and the rich, choking fragrance of exotic plants took us
+by the throat. He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past
+banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable
+powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand
+in one of his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had
+entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He
+felt his way among the furniture, opened another door, and closed it behind
+us. Putting out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the wall, and I
+understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it, and Holmes very
+gently opened a door upon the right-hand side. Something rushed out at us
+and my heart sprang into my mouth, but I could have laughed when I realized
+that it was the cat. A fire was burning in this new room, and again the air
+was heavy with tobacco smoke. Holmes entered on tip-toe, waited for me to
+follow, and then very gently closed the door. We were in Milverton's study,
+and a _portiere_ at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.
+
+It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door I saw
+the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even if it had
+been safe, to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was a heavy curtain,
+which covered the bay window we had seen from outside. On the other side
+was the door which communicated with the veranda. A desk stood in the
+centre, with a turning chair of shining red leather. Opposite was a large
+bookcase, with a marble bust of Athene on the top. In the corner between
+the bookcase and the wall there stood a tall green safe, the firelight
+flashing back from the polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole
+across and looked at it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom, and
+stood with slanting head listening intently. No sound came from within.
+Meanwhile it had struck me that it would be wise to secure our retreat
+through the outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement it was neither
+locked nor bolted! I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his masked
+face in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently as surprised
+as I.
+
+"I don't like it," he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. "I can't
+quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose."
+
+"Can I do anything?"
+
+"Yes; stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the inside,
+and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way, we can get
+through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these window curtains
+if it is not. Do you understand?"
+
+I nodded and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear had passed away,
+and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were
+the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our
+mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the
+villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of
+the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our
+dangers. With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of
+instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a
+surgeon who performs a delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes
+was a particular hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him
+to be confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held
+in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of his
+dress-coat--he had placed his overcoat on a chair--Holmes laid out two
+drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the centre door with
+my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for any emergency; though,
+indeed, my plans were somewhat vague as to what I should do if we were
+interrupted. For half an hour Holmes worked with concentrated energy,
+laying down one tool, picking up another, handling each with the strength
+and delicacy of the trained mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad
+green door swung open, and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper
+packets, each tied, sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it
+was hard to read by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark
+lantern, for it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to
+switch on the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and
+then in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up his
+coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the window
+curtain, motioning me to do the same.
+
+[Illustration: "HE STOOD WITH SLANTING HEAD LISTENING INTENTLY."]
+
+It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed his
+quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A door
+slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke itself into the
+measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. They were in the
+passage outside the room. They paused at the door. The door opened. There
+was a sharp snick as the electric light was turned on. The door closed once
+more, and the pungent reek of a strong cigar was borne to our nostrils.
+Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards, backwards and
+forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a creak from a
+chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard
+the rustle of papers.
+
+So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division of
+the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of
+Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations.
+Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded
+back of Milverton. It was evident that we had entirely miscalculated his
+movements, that he had never been to his bedroom, but that he had been
+sitting up in some smoking or billiard room in the farther wing of the
+house, the windows of which we had not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with
+its shining patch of baldness, was in the immediate foreground of our
+vision. He was leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs
+outstretched, a long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He
+wore a semi-military smoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet
+collar. In his hand he held a long legal document, which he was reading in
+an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from his lips as he did
+so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in his composed bearing and
+his comfortable attitude.
+
+I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if
+to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his
+mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only too obvious from my
+position, that the door of the safe was imperfectly closed, and that
+Milverton might at any moment observe it. In my own mind I had determined
+that if I were sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his
+eye, I would at once spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion
+him, and leave the rest to Holmes. But Milverton never looked up. He was
+languidly interested by the papers in his hand, and page after page was
+turned as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when
+he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room; but
+before he had reached the end of either there came a remarkable development
+which turned our thoughts into quite another channel.
+
+Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and once
+he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture of impatience. The idea,
+however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never
+occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda
+outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in his chair. The sound
+was repeated, and then there came a gentle tap at the door. Milverton rose
+and opened it.
+
+"Well," said he, curtly, "you are nearly half an hour late."
+
+So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of the nocturnal vigil
+of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I had closed
+the slit between the curtains as Milverton's face had turned in our
+direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it once more. He had
+resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an insolent angle from the
+corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the full glare of the electric
+light, there stood a tall, slim, dark woman, a veil over her face, a mantle
+drawn round her chin. Her breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the
+lithe figure was quivering with strong emotion.
+
+"Well," said Milverton, "you've made me lose a good night's rest, my dear.
+I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come any other time--eh?"
+
+[Illustration: "YOU COULDN'T COME ANY OTHER TIME--EH?"]
+
+The woman shook her head.
+
+"Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard mistress you
+have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the girl, what are you
+shivering about? That's right! Pull yourself together! Now, let us get down
+to business." He took a note from the drawer of his desk. "You say that you
+have five letters which compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell
+them. I want to buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I
+should want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are really good
+specimens----Great heavens, is it you?"
+
+The woman without a word had raised her veil and dropped the mantle from
+her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which confronted
+Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark eyebrows shading hard,
+glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped mouth set in a dangerous
+smile.
+
+"It is I," she said; "the woman whose life you have ruined."
+
+Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "You were so very
+obstinate," said he. "Why did you drive me to such extremities? I assure
+you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has his business,
+and what was I to do? I put the price well within your means. You would not
+pay."
+
+"So you sent the letters to my husband, and he, the noblest gentleman that
+ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace--he broke his
+gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I came through
+that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you laughed in my face as
+you are trying to laugh now, only your coward heart cannot keep your lips
+from twitching? Yes, you never thought to see me here again, but it was
+that night which taught me how I could meet you face to face, and alone.
+Well, Charles Milverton, what have you to say?"
+
+"Don't imagine that you can bully me," said he, rising to his feet. "I have
+only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have you arrested.
+But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as
+you came, and I will say no more."
+
+The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same deadly
+smile on her thin lips.
+
+"You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more
+hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take
+that, you hound, and that!--and that!--and that!--and that!"
+
+She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after barrel
+into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt front. He
+shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing furiously and
+clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his feet, received another
+shot, and rolled upon the floor. "You've done me," he cried, and lay still.
+The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned
+face. She looked again, but there was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp
+rustle, the night air blew into the heated room, and the avenger was gone.
+
+No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate; but
+as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's shrinking body I
+was about to spring out, when I felt Holmes's cold, strong grasp upon my
+wrist. I understood the whole argument of that firm, restraining grip--that
+it was no affair of ours; that justice had overtaken a villain; that we had
+our own duties and our own objects which were not to be lost sight of. But
+hardly had the woman rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent
+steps, was over at the other door. He turned the key in the lock. At the
+same instant we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet.
+The revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness Holmes
+slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters,
+and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the
+safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the
+door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter which had been the messenger
+of death for Milverton lay, all mottled with his blood, upon the table.
+Holmes tossed it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the
+outer door, passed through after me, and locked it on the outside. "This
+way, Watson," said he; "we can scale the garden wall in this direction."
+
+I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly.
+Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door was
+open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was alive
+with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the
+veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to know the ground
+perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among a plantation of small
+trees, I close at his heels, and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. It
+was a six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the top and
+over. As I did the same I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my
+ankle; but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. I
+fell upon my face among some bushes; but Holmes had me on my feet in an
+instant, and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead
+Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and
+listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off
+our pursuers and were safe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THEN HE STAGGERED TO HIS FEET AND RECEIVED ANOTHER SHOT."]
+
+We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after the
+remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland
+Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good morning. May I ask if you are
+very busy just now?"
+
+"Not too busy to listen to you."
+
+"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you might
+care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only last night
+at Hampstead."
+
+"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"
+
+"A murder--a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you are
+upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you would step
+down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your advice. It is no
+ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr. Milverton for some time,
+and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a villain. He is known to have held
+papers which he used for blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been
+burned by the murderers. No article of value was taken, as it is probable
+that the criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to
+prevent social exposure."
+
+[Illustration: "FOLLOWING HIS GAZE I SAW THE PICTURE OF A REGAL AND STATELY
+LADY IN COURT DRESS."]
+
+"Criminals!" said Holmes. "Plural!"
+
+"Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured
+red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their description; it's ten
+to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the
+second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away after a struggle.
+He was a middle-sized, strongly-built man--square jaw, thick neck,
+moustache, a mask over his eyes."
+
+"That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "Why, it might be a
+description of Watson!"
+
+"It's true," said the inspector, with much amusement. "It might be a
+description of Watson."
+
+"Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The fact is
+that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one of the most
+dangerous men in London, and that I think there are certain crimes which
+the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private
+revenge. No, it's no use arguing. I have made up my mind. My sympathies are
+with the criminals rather than with the victim, and I will not handle this
+case."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had
+witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most
+thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, from his vacant eyes and
+his abstracted manner, of a man who is striving to recall something to his
+memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang to his
+feet. "By Jove, Watson; I've got it!" he cried. "Take your hat! Come with
+me!" He hurried at his top speed down Baker Street and along Oxford Street,
+until we had almost reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there
+stands a shop window filled with photographs of the celebrities and
+beauties of the day. Holmes's eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and
+following his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in Court
+dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at that
+delicately-curved nose, at the marked eyebrows, at the straight mouth, and
+the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath as I read the
+time-honoured title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had
+been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as we
+turned away from the window.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by A. Conan Doyle, in the United States of America.
+
+
+
+
+_The Romance of the Bronze Duke._
+
+
+On a green mound commanding Caesar's Plain, Aldershot, a rider and his horse
+survey the landscape. Occasionally soldiers come up and salute
+them--sometimes singly, sometimes in companies, often in battalions. But
+the salute is never returned; both rider and horse remain rigid. The sun
+sets and finds them still at their post; it rises and they have never
+stirred. The explanation is simple--this giant horse and horseman are of
+bronze; they form the greatest equestrian group in the world.
+
+Yet the pair have not always been thus stationary. They have been thrice
+moved and may be moved thrice again. Perhaps in the watches of the night on
+Caesar's Plain they are thinking of their past, and of the protracted
+episode which once shook the society of the British capital to its centre,
+and in which they played the chief part. Factions raged around them ere
+they left their humble birthplace in the Harrow Road, and for a time the
+bronze enjoyed far more celebrity than its original, the Iron Duke.
+
+[Illustration: SOLDIERS SALUTING THE DUKE'S STATUE, AS IT STANDS AT
+ALDERSHOT TO-DAY.
+
+_From a Photo. By Knight, Aldershot._]
+
+The story is well worth telling, for nobody remembers it now. Seventy years
+ago, although England had then no sculptors to speak of, there was a
+general passion for erecting statues. The statues were nearly all bad, of
+course, and to the decade between 1830 and 1840 the kingdom owes some of
+its worst atrocities in this department of art. About the time the late
+Queen came to the throne, a sculptor, Matthew Wyatt, was commissioned to
+execute a statue of George III. The result may be seen in Cockspur Street
+to-day. Critics complained that it was too small. The reproach greatly
+offended Wyatt, who roundly declared that he had not aimed at bigness, but
+that if size had been in question he was quite capable of modelling a
+statue larger than any Michael Angelo or the Indian idolmakers had ever
+attempted. He mentioned this to an ardent worshipper of the Duke of
+Wellington in the City, a Common Councilman named Simpson, who had already
+raised subscriptions for one Wellington equestrian group, now in front of
+the Royal Exchange. Simpson and Wyatt talked it over, and the result was
+the formation of a committee, headed by the Duke of Rutland, and the
+raising of fourteen thousand pounds for the erection of a memorial to the
+Duke in the West-end. This body duly handed the commission over to Wyatt as
+"in every respect eminently qualified to be entrusted with the proposed
+equestrian statue."
+
+On this point it was plain that there were two opinions prevalent. Wyatt
+now prepared to realize his boast, and boldly announced that the equestrian
+statue should be of Titanic proportions. As to the site of his handiwork
+thereby hangs a tale. Wyatt had a friend with whom he had quarrelled, named
+Decimus Burton. This Burton, an architect, had recently erected a mighty
+triumphal arch at the entrance to Green Park. It formed a great feature in
+the magnificent plan submitted to Parliament in 1827 for the
+"re-edification" of Buckingham Palace. In this costly design the above arch
+was to form the Royal entrance to the palace gardens, to be laid out to
+suit the rather luxurious taste of George IV.
+
+The arch was eighty feet high. Burton's original idea was to embellish the
+main piers with groups of trophies; to place the figure of a warrior on
+each stylobate; to enrich the base with a sculptural representation of an
+ancient triumph; to place a statue over each column; and various other
+embellishments. But all this ambitious plan was instantly shortened by
+Wyatt's declaring his intention of placing his colossal statue not in the
+middle of Hyde Park, or even of Green Park, or Kensington Gardens, but on
+the very summit of Burton's arch!
+
+The unfortunate architect was beside himself with rage at the suggestion.
+He protested, but he protested in vain. The complaisant committee had quite
+fallen in with Wyatt's idea. But it was not so the Government, the Royal
+Academy, and the Press. They heaped ridicule upon both the project and the
+sculptor. They roundly declared that it would ruin the unity and symmetry
+of his building. Then began an acrimonious discussion between the friends
+of Wyatt and the objectors to his proposed statue. All London divided
+itself into factions. The common topic of drawing room and dinner
+conversation was, "Are you for or against putting a gigantic Iron Duke on
+the top of the arch?" "Brazen impudence!" wrote Thackeray, himself an
+artist.
+
+Meanwhile, in the studio in the Harrow Road, opposite the Dudley Arms
+Tavern, the lucky sculptor had been proceeding with his task. He prepared
+several models and designs, and the sub-committee availed themselves of a
+model of the Hyde Park Corner arch to consider, which they did with the
+greatest attention, the position and relative size of the statue to be
+placed on the summit. Wyatt then prepared a drawing of the arch with the
+equestrian statue, of which the sub-committee approved.
+
+But at this point the Lords of the Treasury stepped in with an injunction.
+As the modelling and casting went on the battle raged. Macaulay wrote from
+India that the sculptor and his friends "ought to be in Bedlam"; his
+antagonist, Croker, inquired blandly "what a Whig Dissenter knew of high
+art." "High" art then became a joke. To the query, "What is the very
+_highest_ form of art?" the jocular answer was, "Wyatt's Duke." The
+newspapers between 1840 and 1846 contain innumerable references to and
+descriptions of the statue, and the progress it was making towards
+completion.
+
+We are told that the plaster of Paris used in the stupendous work
+considerably exceeded one hundred tons; it was formed upon a turn-plate, or
+revolving platform, upwards of twenty feet across, travelling upon forty
+rollers and weighing in itself several tons. The vastness of the model
+required certain precautions to ensure its integrity. To give strength to
+the body of the horse, a beam passed through it longitudinally, like a
+backbone from which spring traverse timbers, like the ribs of a ship. From
+the body of the horse was a line of iron bolts, beneath which, in the early
+stage of the modelling, were placed props for security in shifting the
+figure by means of the platform, so as to obtain the most desirable
+position for light, etc. To reach the different parts of the statue a
+travelling stage with a shifting floor was constructed, so that it might be
+adjusted to any height.
+
+The entire group represented the Duke of Wellington as he appeared on the
+field of Waterloo upon his favourite horse, Copenhagen. The Duke--at least
+so Wyatt declared, although this was denied--sat to the sculptor for the
+portrait, the warrior wearing his customary short cloak, which the artist
+draped so as to give it something of the grace of classic costume. But the
+sculptor's intentions generally surpassed his execution.
+
+For melting the sixty tons of bronze Wyatt erected two great furnaces. The
+first employed was capable of melting only twelve tons at a time, whereas
+it was found desirable to cast the remainder of the statue in larger and
+consequently fewer pieces. A record furnace was therefore built capable of
+melting twenty tons at a time.
+
+The mould and core being placed in the pit in the foundry, the bronze was
+run into it from the furnace, and the body of the horse and the lower
+portion of the rider were thus cast in two parts of about twenty tons each.
+These were magnificent castings, and the effect of so large a surface of
+molten compound as the twenty tons presented is described as very
+extraordinary. The statue, or rather group, was thus cast in about eight
+pieces. In each case the mould was placed in the pit embedded in sand,
+rammed in as tightly as possible; yet in casting the front of the horse, by
+some means six tons of metal escaped through the mould, the chest of the
+horse was left vacant, and the casting was consequently spoiled. In order
+that the legs of the horse should be capable of carrying the great weight
+they would have to sustain it was found necessary to cast them solid. The
+other portions of the work vary from one to three inches in thickness, with
+strong ribs internally to give additional strength. Its height approaches
+thirty feet, and such is the bulk of the horse that eight persons once
+dined within one-half of it.
+
+The following are some of the main dimensions:--
+
+                                        Ft.  in.
+Girth round the horse                   22    8
+Ditto arm of                             5    4
+From the horse's hocks to the ground     6    0
+From the horse's nose to the tail       26    0
+Length of head                           6    0
+Length of each ear                       2    4
+
+The group being cast in pieces as above, they were joined partly by
+screw-bolts two inches in thickness. Owing to the colossal size of the
+group there were, for some time, upwards of thirty men employed at once
+upon the bronze; and in case of any work being requisite to be done within
+the figure of the rider, the head was removed to allow the workmen to
+descend through the neck. The cleansing, chasing, and finishing occupied a
+considerable time.
+
+[Illustration: THE STATUE AT MR. WYATT'S FOUNDRY.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+At last, after being repeatedly canvassed in Parliament and in the country
+for six years, provoking a greater degree of heat than perhaps any statue
+in the world had ever provoked before, the business was supposed to be
+temporarily settled by the authorities agreeing to allow the statue to be
+placed on the arch "on three weeks' probation," when, "if the location
+proved to be injudicious," it was to be removed. Whereat there was great
+joy at the sculptor's studio in the Harrow Road. The Duke of Rutland jumped
+into his carriage and flew thither himself to bear the glad tidings.
+
+"Once it's up," he is said to have cried, "the devil himself can't pull it
+down!"
+
+When the gigantic horse and rider was all but finished it was hoisted out
+of the pit in the foundry and placed upon an enormous car, built especially
+for the purpose at Woolwich Dockyard. The roof of the foundry had first to
+be removed and one of the walls completely demolished to allow of the entry
+of the car, which weighed no less than twenty tons. Its wheels were twenty
+feet in diameter, with radiating cast-iron spokes, and were surmounted by a
+platform within which the statue was slung. The feet of the horse rested
+upon ledges, so close to the ground as to preclude any possibility of
+danger from a fall. As it stood thus it was visited during three weeks by
+many hundreds of persons, including most of the celebrities of the day,
+such as Lytton, Disraeli, and Dickens.
+
+Outside every day saw a vast concourse of people watching the movements of
+the workmen. On the 28th September, at dusk, by means of chain windlasses,
+ropes, pulleys, inclined planes, plank tramways, etc., the biggest
+carriage in the world and the largest statue were moved in proximity to the
+gate, in readiness for the event of the next day.
+
+[Illustration: _From the "Illustrated London News._"
+
+THE GRAND PROCESSION OF THE STATUE--TURNING FROM PARK LANE.]
+
+All London was agog on September 29th, 1846. As it was understood by the
+public that the removal would take place as early as ten o'clock, long
+before that hour the Harrow Road and the streets adjoining were thronged
+with well-dressed people. Seats were erected in various places, for which
+shillings and half-crowns were cheerfully paid. Even the roofs and windows
+in the neighbourhood of Mr. Wyatt's foundry were crowded with anxious
+spectators. The whole line of route from the Harrow Road to Piccadilly,
+was, indeed, one scene of excitement, the windows being mostly filled with
+company and presenting a scene of much gaiety and animation. Paddington
+Green was filled, and Hyde Park was crowded towards the Drive and principal
+walk.
+
+The procession included a large number of troops--Life Guards, Fusiliers,
+Grenadiers, Coldstreams, together with no fewer than four bands. In brief,
+the worshippers of the Duke omitted nothing to make the occasion a triumph.
+Besides, the weather was superb.
+
+[Illustration: "PUNCH'S" SKIT ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+_Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of "Punch."_]
+
+The miserable pageant prophesied by _Punch_ in Leech's amusing drawing was
+nothing like the reality. Leech afterwards drew a mirth-provoking picture
+of the effect of the statue's passing down Edgware Road upon a gentleman
+shaving in the seclusion of an upper window, which we here reproduce.
+
+[Illustration: AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN, WHILST SHAVING, IN THE
+EDGWARE ROAD--ANOTHER "PUNCH" JOKE ON THE PROCESSION.
+
+_Reproduced by permission of the Proprietors of "Punch."_]
+
+Arrived at the arch, where Royal Princes, dukes, earls, and innumerable
+peeresses were assembled, it was found too late that day to hoist the
+mighty bronze to its resting-place. In fact, the ceremony took three days
+before it was concluded.
+
+While all this was happening, on the first and last days the happy
+sculptor, Wyatt, was holding high revel at his studio, his friends
+partaking of a banquet at his expense.
+
+Nobody dreamed of trouble. "Once up--the statue is safe," was the
+watchword. But the Royal Academy and the Office of Woods and Forests had
+resolved that the fate of this huge "solecism" was sealed. It had taken six
+years to set up; it should come down in three weeks! By October 1st, 1846,
+the sixty tons had been hoisted to the top of the one hundred and fifteen
+foot scaffold and placed in position by the sculptor himself. A few days
+later the fatal message arrived: "The Government decides that your statue
+must come down within three weeks." No wonder the sculptor and his friends
+were panic-stricken. How were they to be saved? There was only one way--by
+intercession to the Duke to save his bronze counterfeit.
+
+[Illustration: HOISTING THE STATUE TO THE TOP OF THE ARCH.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+We have not space to tell the full story; the Iron Duke spake the word and
+the Government dared not deny him his request.
+
+For nearly thirty-seven years the great statue remained on the summit of
+the triumphal arch opposite Apsley House. But never during a moment of that
+time was it unassailed by hostile criticism. Foreigners were said to point
+at it with scorn. Albert Smith declared that saturnine men came to laugh at
+it "who had never laughed before." But it was not so much that it was a
+badly-modelled statue as that it had given rise to prejudices and
+antagonisms which long survived both Duke and sculptor. So it happened that
+in 1883, when alterations were projected in the locality, the Duke at last
+was made to descend from his eminence. It was a tremendous piece of
+work--both the Duke and Copenhagen had to be decapitated and otherwise
+mutilated--but the gradual descent was accomplished, witnessed by vast
+multitudes. Wyatt's enemies had triumphed.
+
+The question arose as to where the statue should be placed. "In the
+furnace," said many zealous brother sculptors. Ruskin boldly counselled its
+destruction. But it was decided that a good place for it would be in St.
+James's Park, opposite the Horse Guards' Parade. The removal thither to
+this obscure spot was accordingly begun. But the old antagonism apparently
+revived. The Horse Guards complained; the Duke of Cambridge thought it an
+eyesore. Lord Randolph Churchill, whose way between Westminster and St.
+James's led through the park, said he was "driven to frequent Whitehall,"
+and predicted that the big bronze Duke would bring about the fall of the
+Government. Sir Frederick Leighton, P.R.A., and Lord Hardinge defended the
+new position, but the former was asked: "How would you like sixty tons of
+bad bronze opposite the Royal Academy?"
+
+This time the old Duke of Wellington--thirty years in his grave--could give
+no sign. Rider and man waited immobile for further orders.
+"Forward--march!" finally, in 1885, came the command from head-quarters,
+and slowly, with difficulty, and with Copenhagen with his legs in the air,
+the new journey of forty miles began.
+
+Such is the story of a statue. Where will it end? Two or three years ago a
+distinguished general, whose wife is also a distinguished painter of
+soldiers and horses, remarked cruelly that "Aldershot would be delightful
+if it wasn't for that--ogre."
+
+And as he spoke, from force of habit he grimly raised two fingers to his
+temple, saluting the insulted Field-Marshal whose mighty shadow now darkens
+Caesar's Plain.
+
+Where will it end?
+
+[Illustration: THE STATUE IN THE POSITION WHICH RAISED SUCH A STORM OF
+OPPOSITION.
+
+_From the "Illustrated London News."_]
+
+
+
+
+_Two and a Tiger._
+
+BY R. E. VERNEDE.
+
+
+Nare had enjoyed himself at the picnic until the baronet arrived, in spite
+of being rather an outsider among these local people, who all knew one
+another from the cradle. He had enjoyed himself in spite, too, of Mrs.
+Corcoran, who by many signs and cool politenesses had shown him that her
+daughter Judith had no need and--as she hinted very plainly--no inclination
+for his attentions. "Dear Sir Henry will be arriving soon, surely?" Mrs.
+Corcoran had said in his presence to their hostess, and little Mrs.
+Harrington, who had been very kind to Nare in that capacity, replied that
+of course Sir Henry would be arriving soon, but that in the meantime the
+rector (a mild man with a capacity for being held in awe) was very anxious
+to consult Mrs. Corcoran on the subject of an altar-cloth. Mrs. Corcoran
+was unable to resist the invitation. Whether the rector was as grateful for
+Sir Henry Pove's arrival as Nare was ungrateful, nobody can say, but there
+is no denying that the rector looked a little browbeaten by that time.
+
+The baronet came on a tricycle, looking reedy in his light suit, but very
+dignified.
+
+"I have accomplished the distance from Wetherwell in one hour and a
+quarter," he announced, "which I think is very fair--very fair."
+
+"Wonderful," said Mrs. Corcoran, frowning at her silent daughter.
+
+"Incredible," Nare suggested. "It must be eight miles."
+
+"I thought it incumbent upon me to ride pretty fast," continued Sir Henry,
+"because a rather alarming thing has occurred."
+
+A chorus of "Ohs!" wavered about the gratified tricyclist.
+
+[Illustration: "A RATHER ALARMING THING HAS OCCURRED."]
+
+"What is it?" asked Mrs. Corcoran.
+
+"No, don't tell!" cried Mrs. Harrington; "not if it's horrid. I won't have
+my picnic spoilt. Be a gem, now!"
+
+"But, my dear madam"--Sir Henry's look was a rebuke to all trifling--"I
+dare not take it upon myself to leave you all in suspense about a matter
+which cannot in any event be lightly treated. When I say that a travelling
+menagerie at Sutley has lost one of its wild beasts early this morning, and
+that up to the time I started from Wetherwell no news of its recapture had
+come to hand----"
+
+He paused for an effect, and several ladies said: "Good heavens!" Mrs.
+Corcoran added:--
+
+"And you rode over the moor alone?"
+
+A pleased smile was her reward.
+
+"I could do no less--yes--some say a puma; others a bear." Sir Henry
+rapidly answered a string of questions.
+
+"Perhaps it was a llama," suggested Miss Corcoran.
+
+"Judith!"
+
+"They're very dangerous, mother."
+
+"But in any case I'm very much annoyed," Mrs. Harrington announced. "Now
+everybody will want to go home, I suppose, though really Sutley is fourteen
+miles away, and--well, at any rate, we've all had something to eat. Sir
+Henry, come and be rewarded with lobster before we start."
+
+I think it must have been because Mrs. Harrington thought she owed her
+annoyance as much to the baronet's alarmist importunity as to the
+carelessness of the menagerie owners that she dealt so kindly with Nare
+afterwards. For it was settled that the picnickers should disband almost
+immediately instead of going home by moonlight--as Mrs. Harrington had
+desired--and in the bustle that ensued, while the rector was heading a
+search-party, organized by Mrs. Corcoran, to recover a shawl she was
+positive she had brought with her, and the baronet was being regaled on all
+the choicest delicacies that could be set out on cabbage-leaves by the more
+insatiably curious ladies, Mrs. Harrington drew Nare and Miss Corcoran
+aside.
+
+"Now, Judith," she said, "we shall all be starting soon, but I want you to
+be kind and show Mr. Nare the Mill on the way back."
+
+"Oh, but----" Judith began.
+
+"We shall catch you up in quite a short time, and Mr. Nare will protect you
+against the----"
+
+"Llama," said Nare.
+
+"Elephant or whatever it is," said Mrs. Harrington, smiling. "I'm quite
+sure he will. And you'll be doing me a favour. I've promised Mr. Nare
+should see the Mill, and I'll explain to your mother."
+
+"Very well," said Judith. "Perhaps we ought to start at once, then?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Harrington.
+
+That is why, when, some time later, Sir Henry having replenished himself
+and found all preparations made for going homeward, and having begun to
+wonder where Miss Corcoran, whom he had hoped to escort, had vanished to,
+Nare found himself on the moor with that young lady just drawing near to
+the Mill, the sight of which he had been promised. It was just after
+sundown then, pleasantly cool and hazy, with nothing but a noise of stray
+bees to disturb the silence. Miss Corcoran had had her parasol furled for
+several minutes, so that Nare, who was slightly behind with the picnic
+basket which Mrs. Harrington had thrust upon him "in case Judith should
+want a sandwich on the way, Mr. Nare"--commanded an uninterrupted and
+delightful view of the curls on her neck.
+
+"Perfect," he said, and she, fancying he referred to the weather, perhaps,
+agreed.
+
+[Illustration: "'I DON'T THINK YOU'RE WALKING VERY FAST, MR. NARE,' SHE
+SAID."]
+
+"But I don't think you're walking very fast, Mr. Nare," she said, severely.
+"And when I promised Mrs. Harrington to show you the Mill, I did think
+you'd walk a little quicker, even though you are a Londoner."
+
+"Don't be unkind," said Nare. "Recollect that your foot is on your native
+heath, while mine----"
+
+"But we shall miss the others."
+
+"We started first."
+
+"Not more than half an hour, and we've come right off the road on to the
+moor and----"
+
+"But it's such a jolly afternoon."
+
+"Evening."
+
+"And it would be a sin to stampede over these attractive buttercups," Nare
+pleaded.
+
+Miss Corcoran relented with a little laugh.
+
+"Really, you are Cockneyer than I thought. Buttercups! It's gorse."
+
+"Same kind of yellow," said Nare.
+
+"And there's the Mill. Now we must hurry."
+
+Woman, it has been said, disposes, but that depends on circumstances. Nare
+had no desire to hurry, but hurried he certainly would have been if it were
+not for the episode that occurred at that moment. Afterwards he was
+grateful for it, but for the time being he would even have preferred
+hurrying. For, just as he was taking a last look at the Mill, something
+shadowy, but alive, came stalking slowly away from it towards them.
+
+Involuntarily Nare whistled. In the hazy twilight it was not easy to
+distinguish shapes exactly, and the desolate moorland with the black bare
+Mill frowning in its midst, only a single skeleton sail left to show for
+what purpose it had been built centuries ago, and the utter silence, except
+for the homing bees, no doubt tended to ghostly thoughts. But either Nare
+was dreaming or----
+
+"Whatever is that?" cried Miss Corcoran, suddenly catching sight of it. She
+put a startled hand on his arm, and Nare regained his cheerfulness.
+
+"This Cockney suggests that it's a cow--a stray cow."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Probably an Alderney," Nare pursued, "with pink eyes and----"
+
+The creature was making towards them on the circumference of a circle, and
+as Nare talked he walked slowly towards the Mill. There must be some kind
+of shelter there.
+
+"And crumpled horns," Nare continued.
+
+"But this isn't our way, Mr. Nare."
+
+The girl spoke in a protesting tone, but without giving any sign of a
+desire to stop. Indeed, she went rather faster and did not look behind her.
+The Alderney was a little behind them now.
+
+"Don't you think we ought to----"
+
+"G-r-r-r-r!" A noise, thunderous and snarling, interrupted her in the
+middle of a sentence. Nare was looking back.
+
+"How horrible!"
+
+"Perhaps it wants to be milked"--Nare spoke without turning his head--"or
+it's hungry. I think you'd better go into the Mill, please."
+
+"You'll come?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+[Illustration: "MISS CORCORAN GATHERED UP HER SKIRTS AND RAN."]
+
+And with that Miss Corcoran gathered up her skirts and ran. Nare followed
+with one eye on the enemy in the rear. The beast had stopped in its
+circling and was glaring after them.
+
+"As fast as you can!"
+
+The girl heard Nare talking to her, and felt in a dream. A second growl
+rose and seemed to shake the rotten timbers of the Mill as she ran into it.
+
+"Up the ladder!"
+
+There was a nine-foot ladder, shaky, with rat-gnawed rungs, leading through
+a trap on to the first floor of the Mill from the ground. And Miss Corcoran
+went up it swiftly, with gratitude in her heart to the rats for not having
+gnawed it through, since there was no door to the Mill wherewith to bolt
+out undesirable company. The Mill seemed to be echoing still with that
+growl as she turned at the top and, kneeling, found Nare ascending after
+her through the narrow hole. She said nothing until he had got up and tried
+to unfix the ladder without success. Then, as he desisted:--
+
+"Mr. Nare," she said, "was it a--a--tiger?"
+
+Nare put down his picnic basket with an injured air.
+
+"If it wasn't," he said, "I don't know what it was. But I'm beginning to
+think you're right, and that I don't know the country. I certainly thought
+tigers were extinct. If they're not, I don't think it's fair to ask an
+unfortunate Londoner out into the wilds and arm him with nothing better
+than a picnic basket."
+
+He rattled on to give the girl time to recover herself. He was a little
+afraid of hysterics, which would have been pardonable but unavailing. She
+seemed to suspect his fear, for she mustered a smile and said:--
+
+"I don't think I'm going to be foolish. Tell me, please, what do you think
+we ought to do?"
+
+That was exactly what Nare did not know. Looking down through the trap, he
+was conscious of a pair of fierce yellow eyes glaring up at him.
+
+"A good deal depends on the tiger," he said. "As this is one from a
+menagerie it may know how to behave itself in company, but--isn't there a
+top floor to this Mill?"
+
+There was, and another ladder leading to it. And Miss Corcoran, followed by
+Nare, reached it in less time than it takes to tell. The tiger had reared
+its paws on to the lower ladder and delivered itself, of another terrific
+growl.
+
+"I--I didn't know they could climb," said Miss Corcoran, faintly. "Oh!"
+
+A scuffling noise accompanied by a groaning of wood was what they heard,
+and then a soft padding of feet in the room they had just deserted.
+Apparently this tiger could climb.
+
+"The deuce!" said Nare, beneath his breath. He had never in his life been
+in a more unpleasant situation--never, indeed, in anything like it. At
+first the thing had seemed like some burlesque nightmare, but now the
+burlesque was going out of it. What could one do to a tiger?
+
+He sat cross-legged over the trap, reflecting and listening to the pad, pad
+below. If only there were a cover to the trap, but there was none. His
+companion was looking out of a sort of small slit in the side of the Mill
+that had been made to serve the purpose of a window once, hiding her tears,
+Nare fancied. It was too narrow to get through, and in any case there would
+be a drop of twenty or thirty feet. Half unconsciously Nare began to unpack
+the picnic basket which he had carried along from room to room. He had some
+vague idea of throwing the tiger sandwiches as a sop. "Buns, cucumber
+sandwiches, a packet of salt. Do you see anything, Sister Anne?" He broke
+off enumerating the contents of the basket, seeing that Miss Corcoran had
+started.
+
+"I--no----"
+
+"A chocolate cake--tea--pepper--pepper----"
+
+"Yes, I do," Miss Corcoran suddenly burst out. "There's someone
+coming--this way. He's--he's on a--it's Sir Henry."
+
+In spite of the presence of the tiger and the diversion likely to be caused
+by the arrival of the baronet, Nare felt a trifle jealous. If the diversion
+were caused it would be to the baronet's credit, that was certain, and he
+sat over the trap, aimlessly untying the packet marked pepper, while he
+listened to the parley that Miss Corcoran began from the slit in the Mill
+wall.
+
+A bicycle bell rung in a dignified manner announced the baronet's approach.
+
+"Sir Henry!"
+
+Nare could hear the brake applied before the baronet's thin, piping voice
+called back:--
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+"It's I--Judith Corcoran--and Mr. Nare. We're in the Mill--and----"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+Suspicion was plain in the baronet's "Indeed!" Nare lost the next few words
+in trying to catch a sound of the padding feet below.
+
+"And the animal that escaped that you told us of--is here--it's a tiger!"
+
+An unpleasant, high-pitched laugh greeted Miss Corcoran's explanation--a
+laugh that showed Sir Henry in about as incredulous a frame of mind as a
+jealous man might be.
+
+"Ah!" he sniggered. "What charming company! Two--and a tiger!"
+
+"G-r-r-r-r!"
+
+Nare had just risen in a fury of indignation to throw something--anything
+that could be got through the window--at the baronet's head, when that
+tremendous growl came, followed by the creaking and groaning of wood. The
+tiger was ascending to their last retreat. In a whirling fashion Nare was
+conscious of this, and of Miss Corcoran's pale face, as he stood once more
+over the trap. From outside came a sound of frantic pedalling, as though
+Sir Henry had forgotten his scepticism and was wheeling round in order to
+be off. Otherwise the stillness was intolerable; and in the middle of it
+Nare, his fingers tearing idly at the white-papered packet in his hands,
+suddenly found himself looking into those great yellow eyes, not three feet
+away. And at that, his fingers relaxing, the packet and its contents fell
+plump into the tiger's face.
+
+[Illustration: "NARE SUDDENLY FOUND HIMSELF LOOKING INTO THOSE GREAT YELLOW
+EYES."]
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+A swishing, sneezing noise, as of a score of cats under a hose, a heavy
+thud, a downward galloping, pad and patter, and the tiger was gone. It had
+found an ounce of pepper in its eyes and nostrils as unpleasant as it was
+unexpected.
+
+"Pepper's the thing," said Nare, devoutly, discovering a moment later that
+he was supporting Miss Corcoran in his arms.
+
+"Yes," said Judith, faintly; "I'm so glad----"
+
+Of what she did not say, but irrelevancy did not seem to matter.
+
+"Look!" cried Nare.
+
+Through the uncasemented window they could see in the fast-gathering dusk
+the long white path over the moor. It looked even whiter for the shadows
+all about, so that, visible at a distance of some quarter of a mile, was
+the bent figure of a tricyclist, all among the wheels, pedalling away for
+dear life. After him, and as if in pursuit, cantered a shadowy, four-legged
+thing, that tossed its head uneasily as it went and seemed to have no tail.
+
+"Tail's between its legs," said Nare. "So's Sir Henry's."
+
+"I hope it won't catch him," said Miss Judith, kindly, but without the
+intonation of extreme solicitude. After all, Sir Henry had a good start.
+"He is going fast," she added, critically, as he vanished over a distant
+ridge. "There goes the tiger."
+
+"We may as well be off too," said Nare, "before it comes back. Sir Henry by
+himself won't make much of a meal. Awfully jolly walk it's been."
+
+They went on, not too fast, in the opposite direction from that taken by
+the tiger.
+
+
+
+
+_The Best Comic Pictures._
+
+THE OPINION OF HUMOROUS ARTISTS.
+
+
+Humour is such an elusive quality, depending so much upon individual
+temperament, that it is difficult to say in what consists its absolute
+perfection. We know what makes us laugh most; but do we know what will make
+another laugh most? Yet after all this is true of every art. Why should we
+not have _chefs d'oevure_ of pictorial comedy?
+
+Suppose any reader of THE STRAND MAGAZINE with a normal sense of humour
+were asked, "What is the funniest picture you remember ever to have seen?"
+Would he not ransack his memory--would he not turn to the files of _Punch_,
+to the comic almanacs, to such examples of foreign pictorial humour as had
+chanced to come in his way--and end by declaring that it was impossible to
+make any selection at all in such a wilderness of mirth-provoking designs,
+or, having hit upon one, to find it, upon re-inspection, to be no longer as
+funny as he thought it at the time--years ago?
+
+But in quite a different case is another small class in the community.
+These are the authors and manufacturers of humorous pictures themselves.
+They, not only from having a special gift of comedy, but from having
+presumably studied, or been interested in, the work of other draughtsmen,
+might confidently be expected to know their own minds. And so to them the
+writer addressed the question, What was the funniest picture they had ever
+seen? What had a right to be considered a masterpiece of pictorial comedy?
+
+At the outset the writer must not forget to mention that a few years ago,
+in a confidential chat he had with the late Mr. Phil May, he was
+pleasurably surprised to learn the high esteem in which that gifted
+humorist held one of the earliest and greatest masters of pictorial comedy,
+James Gillray.
+
+[Illustration: "COMPANY SHOCKED AT A LADY GETTING UP TO RING THE BELL."--BY
+GILLRAY.
+
+SELECTED BY THE LATE MR. PHIL MAY AS THE BEST COMIC PICTURE].
+
+"There is nobody to-day to touch him," were May's words. "Look at his sweep
+of line and his astonishing mastery over the grotesque and ridiculous.
+There are pictures so extraordinarily funny that you can't laugh--'too
+funny for words,' if you catch what I mean." As he spoke he turned to a
+folio containing several specimens of Gillray's drawings. One in particular
+was, if too funny for words, not too funny to be laughed at, for May's
+smile broadened enormously as he held it up for inspection--"Company
+Shocked at a Lady Getting Up to Ring the Bell." "Now, I call that funny,"
+he said, "and it was, perhaps, a hundred times funnier a hundred years ago,
+when the characters were well-known people. There's nothing 'dates' so much
+as the average comic picture, especially a social caricature, but the fun
+of this is pretty fresh still." On the whole, most of Gillray's and
+Rowlandson's best work is a little too highly flavoured--too broad--for the
+taste of to-day.
+
+Passing along a half-century we come to John Leech, and thenceforward to a
+succession of great masters of pictorial fun--Wilhelm Buesch, Charles Keene,
+Du Maurier, Sambourne, Oberlander, Caran d'Ache, Phil May, Frederick Opper,
+Zimmerman, and Raven-Hill. To these names many--fully as
+distinguished--might be added, such as Forain, Gibson, and Graetz, but for
+pure fun those we have mentioned may be called the masters. Amongst their
+numerous productions ought to be found some sketch which deserves to be
+called the very funniest picture or set of pictures delineating a single
+humorous idea. Each artist has his own followers. We have seen Phil May
+singling out a drawing by Gillray as appealing to his sense of humour. The
+draughtsmen of to-day in this line of work in England doubtless count no
+cleverer men than Raven-Hill, Tom Browne, John Hassall, Leslie Willson,
+William Parkinson, Louis Wain, and Charles Harrison.
+
+Wilhelm Buesch was for years the chief comic draughtsman of the celebrated
+_Fliegende Blaetter_--the German _Punch_. Not all his best work, however,
+was done for this paper, as Buesch illustrated and occasionally wrote
+numerous humorous brochures, which enjoyed a wide sale, and in his own
+opinion--according to one of his intimate friends whom we have
+consulted--he never achieved anything funnier than the pictures which
+accompanied a little book called "The Fools' Paradise," and the funniest
+drawings in that book are those which appear on this page.
+
+[Illustration: "A PIANOFORTE PERFORMANCE."--BY WILHELM BUeSCH.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LINLEY SAMBOURNE.]
+
+But now let us hear what Mr. Linley Sambourne has to say about the work of
+this artist:--
+
+"To attempt to even indicate the birthplace of the world's masterpiece of
+pictorial humour is beyond the capacity of a single individual. So very few
+can see humour with the same eyes or appreciation. What you seek has
+probably perished in past ages, together with its contemporaneous
+companions in a higher branch. To me, personally, some of the designs of
+the late Wilhelm Buesch, of Munich, seem to have more humour, if by that is
+meant fun, than anything I can remember having seen."
+
+[Illustration: UNDER HER BREATH.--MRS. CONLAN: "Whisht, Pat!"
+
+Pat: "Whisht, Dalia!"
+
+Mrs. Conlan: "Aise yure face. It's an upright we're havin' took."
+
+FROM THE NEW YORK "JUDGE."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. RAVEN-HILL.]
+
+Mr. Sambourne's clever colleague, Mr. Leonard Raven-Hill, finds "the very
+funniest picture" amongst the work of the American artist, Zimmerman.
+
+"For absolute comic humour," he writes, "no one has equalled Zimmerman, of
+the New York _Judge_, in my opinion. Charles Keene is, of course, miles
+ahead of any other man in quiet humour; but I can't think of any particular
+examples."
+
+Of Zimmerman's drawings Mr. Raven-Hill selects three, of which we herewith
+present what strikes us as the most comical.
+
+[Illustration: WIFE (to lion-tamer, who has been out late): "You coward!"
+
+FROM "PHIL MAY'S ANNUAL."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. TOM BROWNE.]
+
+Few comic artists are at once so prolific and so amusing as Mr. Tom Browne,
+who, in selecting the picture reproduced below, writes to us as follows:--
+
+"I have no hesitation in ascribing to the late Phil May some of the most
+delightful specimens of illustrated humour that have ever graced the
+British or any other Press; but to positively indicate what I consider to
+be that master's choicest joke or drawing is a difficult matter. Phil May
+had a very keen sense of humour; moreover, he was a master of line. He knew
+what a line would do better than any man ever did before him. He could
+seize on the essentials of a subject and adequately represent it in the
+fewest lines anyone had ever employed before. Yet nothing was lacking. And
+the lines and the forms they represented were always accurate. There was a
+lot of humour in the sketch of the lion-tamer which appeared in one of the
+winter annuals. The tamer of lions had been staying out late, and to avoid
+the furious attentions of his wrathful spouse had taken refuge in the
+lions' den. The aforesaid wrathful spouse was shaking her fist in front of
+the bars and crying out, 'You coward!'
+
+[Illustration: "A HAIR-RAISING STORY."--BY CARAN D'ACHE.
+
+FROM THE CARAN D'ACHE ALBUM, BY PERMISSION OF MM. PLON NOURRIT & CO.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LESLIE WILLSON.]
+
+"Quite a little masterpiece in its way was the sketch of the very tipsy
+newsman, who had the contents-bill of the special edition he was selling
+stuck on a sandwich board that covered his chest. In large letters on the
+contents-bill was printed, 'Result of the Cup.'
+
+"And there are others, scores of them, all good because they were Phil
+May's. In cold type they sound nothing. Phil May's pen made masterpieces of
+them all."
+
+An English black-and-white draughtsman, with an almost unique experience of
+pictorial comedy in Germany, America, and this country, is Mr. Leslie
+Willson, for years one of the chief artists of the New York _Judge_, and
+latterly art editor of _Pick-Me-Up_. Mr. Willson, with his wide experience
+of comic achievements, says:--
+
+"The very funniest pictures I ever saw were by that astonishingly clever
+Franco-Russian, Emmanuel Poire, otherwise 'Caran d'Ache.' The particular
+set I have in mind depicted a scene in a barber's shop, where the
+customer's hair, standing on end from horror, defies all the barber's
+attempts to curl it. There are other funny things from Caran d'Ache's
+pencil, but this, I think, is the funniest." These are the drawings
+reproduced on the opposite page.
+
+[Illustration: PARROT: "Here he comes again. If he pulls another feather
+out I'll fly away!"
+
+BY H. GRATTAN IN THE "PELICAN."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. JOHN HASSALL.]
+
+Mr. John Hassall, whose work is familiar to all, writes to say:--
+
+"The most humorous drawing I have ever seen was in the Christmas number of
+the _Pelican_, some few years back, of a parrot with one feather sticking
+out of its tail--the rest bare--sitting on its perch, and a pot-boy in the
+background. Below was the inscription: 'Here he comes again. If he pulls
+another feather out I'll fly away!' It was by an actor, I fancy. For the
+most humorous artist I should plump for Zim. Zimmerman, who draws for New
+York _Judge_. About ten years ago his work was, to my mind, always
+exceedingly humorous."
+
+[Illustration: "AN INCIDENT IN THE MIDDLE AGES."--BY LINLEY SAMBOURNE IN
+"PUNCH."
+
+SELECTED BY MR. WILLIAM PARKINSON.]
+
+A draughtsman with a keen sense of humour is Mr. William Parkinson. He
+writes:--
+
+"For real funniness, I think A. B. Frost, the American, is very hard to
+beat; especially in some of his picture-stories in the last pages of
+_Scribner_ or the _Century_. I should call his book of drawings, 'The
+Good-Natured Man and the Bull Calf,' a masterpiece of humour. Linley
+Sambourne also is a master and an artist too, and some of his drawings for
+_Punch's_ Almanacks are real masterpieces. 'An Incident in the Middle
+Ages,' where a poor knight in armour is tormented under his mail shirt by a
+persistent----Well, the fancy is tickled as much as was the poor knight."
+
+[Illustration: An ensign who thought he would wake up another ensign for a
+lark--But he mistook the tent.
+
+FROM THE "GRAPHIC."--BY A. C. CORBOULD.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. LOUIS WAIN.]
+
+There are not many pictorial comedians with a larger following than Mr.
+Louis Wain, who tells us:--
+
+"I like one of Corbould's drawings best which appeared in the _Graphic_ of
+some eighteen years back. A subaltern with a broom over his head was
+hitting out at a military tent with it where there appeared to be a
+protuberance. A second picture showed a fat general sitting up in bed
+rubbing his head and looking furiously mad. (He had had the broom on it.)
+This drawing has kept me happy through many a gloomy period, and set my own
+work going again."
+
+[Illustration: THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT.--OLD MR. WHAT'S-HIS-NAME: "Egad, I
+don't wonder at moustaches coming into fashion; for--eh? What? By Jove, it
+does improve one's appearance."
+
+BY JOHN LEECH IN "PUNCH'S ALMANACK," 1857.
+
+SELECTED BY MR. CHARLES HARRISON.]
+
+"With a pretty extensive knowledge of all the Continental and American
+artists," writes Mr. Charles Harrison, one of the regular contributors to
+_Punch_, "I think I have derived more amusement from John Leech than anyone
+else. In certain things he is, and so will ever remain, absolutely
+unapproachable, and I enclose what I consider one of his funniest efforts.
+At least, there is no effort in it, which is one of the charms in all
+Leech's work."
+
+
+
+
+_The Country of the Blind._
+
+BY H. G. WELLS.
+
+
+Three hundred miles and more from Chimborazo, one hundred from the snows of
+Cotopaxi, in the wildest wastes of Ecuador's Andes, there lies that
+mysterious mountain valley, cut off from all the world of men, the Country
+of the Blind. Long years ago that valley lay so far open to the world that
+men might come at last through frightful gorges and over an icy pass into
+its equable meadows, and thither indeed men came, a family or so of
+Peruvian half-breeds fleeing from the lust and tyranny of an evil Spanish
+ruler. Then came the stupendous outbreak of Mindobamba, when it was night
+in Quito for seventeen days, and the water was boiling at Yaguachi and all
+the fish floating dying even as far as Guayaquil; everywhere along the
+Pacific slopes there were landslips and swift thawings and sudden floods,
+and one whole side of the old Arauca crest slipped and came down in
+thunder, and cut off the Country of the Blind for ever from the exploring
+feet of men. But one of these early settlers had chanced to be on the
+hither side of the gorges when the world had so terribly shaken itself, and
+he perforce had to forget his wife and his child and all the friends and
+possessions he had left up there, and start life over again in the lower
+world. He started it again but ill, blindness overtook him, and he died of
+punishment in the mines; but the story he told begot a legend that lingers
+along the length of the Cordilleras of the Andes to this day.
+
+He told of his reason for venturing back from that fastness, into which he
+had first been carried lashed to a llama, beside a vast bale of gear, when
+he was a child. The valley, he said, had in it all that the heart of man
+could desire--sweet water, pasture, an even climate, slopes of rich brown
+soil with tangles of a shrub that bore an excellent fruit, and on one side
+great hanging forests of pine that held the avalanches high. Far overhead,
+on three sides, vast cliffs of grey-green rock were capped by cliffs of
+ice; but the glacier stream came not to them, but flowed away by the
+farther slopes, and only now and then huge ice masses fell on the valley
+side. In this valley it neither rained nor snowed, but the abundant springs
+gave a rich green pasture, that irrigation would spread over all the valley
+space. The settlers did well indeed there. Their beasts did well and
+multiplied, and but one thing marred their happiness. Yet it was enough to
+mar it greatly. A strange disease had come upon them and had made all the
+children born to them there--and, indeed, several older children
+also--blind. It was to seek some charm or antidote against this plague of
+blindness that he had with fatigue and danger and difficulty returned down
+the gorge. In those days, in such cases, men did not think of germs and
+infections, but of sins, and it seemed to him that the reason of this
+affliction must lie in the negligence of these priestless immigrants to set
+up a shrine so soon as they entered the valley. He wanted a shrine--a
+handsome, cheap, effectual shrine--to be erected in the valley; he wanted
+relics and such-like potent things of faith, blessed objects and mysterious
+medals and prayers. In his wallet he had a bar of native silver for which
+he would not account; he insisted there was none in the valley with
+something of the insistence of an inexpert liar. They had all clubbed their
+money and ornaments together, having little need for such treasure up
+there, he said, to buy them holy help against their ill. I figure this
+dim-eyed young mountaineer, sunburnt, gaunt, and anxious, hat brim clutched
+feverishly, a man all unused to the ways of the lower world, telling this
+story to some keen-eyed, attentive priest before the great convulsion; I
+can picture him presently seeking to return with pious and infallible
+remedies against that trouble, and the infinite dismay with which he must
+have faced the tumbled vastness where the gorge had once come out. But the
+rest of his story of mischances is lost to me, save that I know of his evil
+death after several years. Poor stray from that remoteness! The stream that
+had once made the gorge now bursts from the mouth of a rocky cave, and the
+legend his poor, ill-told story set going developed into the legend of a
+race of blind men somewhere "over there" one may still hear to-day.
+
+And amidst the little population of that now isolated and forgotten valley
+the disease ran its course. The old became groping and purblind, the young
+saw but dimly, and the children that were born to them saw never at all.
+But life was very easy in that snow-rimmed basin, lost to all the world,
+with neither thorns nor briers, with no evil insects nor any beasts save
+the gentle breed of llamas they had lugged and thrust and followed up the
+beds of the shrunken rivers in the gorges up which they had come. The
+seeing had become purblind so gradually that they scarcely noted their
+loss. They guided the sightless youngsters hither and thither until they
+knew the whole valley marvellously, and when at last sight died out among
+them the race lived on. They had even time to adapt themselves to the blind
+control of fire, which they made carefully in stoves of stone. They were a
+simple strain of people at the first, unlettered, only slightly touched
+with the Spanish civilization, but with something of a tradition of the
+arts of old Peru and of its lost philosophy. Generation followed
+generation. They forgot many things; they devised many things. Their
+tradition of the greater world they came from became mythical in colour and
+uncertain. In all things save sight they were strong and able, and
+presently chance sent one who had an original mind and who could talk and
+persuade among them, and then afterwards another. These two passed, leaving
+their effects, and the little community grew in numbers and in
+understanding, and met and settled social and economic problems that arose.
+Generation followed generation. Generation followed generation. There came
+a time when a child was born who was fifteen generations from that ancestor
+who went out of the valley with a bar of silver to seek God's aid, and who
+never returned. Thereabout it chanced that a man came into this community
+from the outer world. And this is the story of that man.
+
+He was a mountaineer from the country near Quito, a man who had been down
+to the sea and had seen the world, a reader of books in an original way, an
+acute and enterprising man, and he was taken on by a party of Englishmen
+who had come out to Ecuador to climb mountains, to replace one of their
+three Swiss guides who had fallen ill. He climbed here and he climbed
+there, and then came the attempt on Parascotopetl, the Matterhorn of the
+Andes, in which he was lost to the outer world. The story of that accident
+has been written a dozen times. Pointer's narrative is the best. He tells
+how the little party worked their difficult and almost vertical way up to
+the very foot of the last and greatest precipice, and how they built a
+night shelter amidst the snow upon a little shelf of rock, and, with a
+touch of real dramatic power, how presently they found Nunez had gone from
+them. They shouted, and there was no reply; shouted and whistled, and for
+the rest of that night they slept no more.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY FOUND NUNEZ HAD GONE FROM THEM."]
+
+As the morning broke they saw the traces of his fall. It seems impossible
+he could have uttered a sound. He had slipped eastward towards the unknown
+side of the mountain; far below he had struck a steep slope of snow, and
+ploughed his way down it in the midst of a snow avalanche. His track went
+straight to the edge of a frightful precipice, and beyond that everything
+was hidden. Far, far below, and hazy with distance, they could see trees
+rising out of a narrow, shut-in valley--the lost Country of the Blind. But
+they did not know it was the lost Country of the Blind, nor distinguish it
+in any way from any other narrow streak of upland valley. Unnerved by this
+disaster, they abandoned their attempt in the afternoon, and Pointer was
+called away to the war before he could make another attack. To this day
+Parascotopetl lifts an unconquered crest, and Pointer's shelter crumbles
+unvisited amidst the snows.
+
+And the man who fell survived.
+
+At the end of the slope he fell a thousand feet, and came down in the midst
+of a cloud of snow upon a snow-slope even steeper than the one above. Down
+this he was whirled, stunned and insensible, but without a bone broken in
+his body; and then at last came to gentler slopes, and at last rolled out
+and lay still, buried amidst a softening heap of the white masses that had
+accompanied and saved him. He came to himself with a dim fancy that he was
+ill in bed; then realized his position with a mountaineer's intelligence
+and worked himself loose and, after a rest or so, out until he saw the
+stars. He rested flat upon his chest for a space, wondering where he was
+and what had happened to him. He explored his limbs, and discovered that
+several of his buttons were gone and his coat turned over his head. His
+knife had gone from his pocket and his hat was lost, though he had tied it
+under his chin. He recalled that he had been looking for loose stones to
+raise his piece of the shelter wall. His ice-axe had disappeared.
+
+He decided he must have fallen, and looked up to see, exaggerated by the
+ghastly light of the rising moon, the tremendous flight he had taken. For a
+while he lay, gazing blankly at that vast, pale cliff towering above,
+rising moment by moment out of a subsiding tide of darkness. Its
+phantasmal, mysterious beauty held him for a space, and then he was seized
+with a paroxysm of sobbing laughter....
+
+After a great interval of time he became aware that he was near the lower
+edge of the snow. Below, down what was now a moon-lit and practicable
+slope, he saw the dark and broken appearance of rock-strewn turf. He
+struggled to his feet, aching in every joint and limb, got down painfully
+from the heaped loose snow about him, went downward until he was on the
+turf, and there dropped rather than lay beside a boulder, drank deep from
+the flask in his inner pocket, and instantly fell asleep....
+
+He was awakened by the singing of birds in the trees far below.
+
+He sat up and perceived he was on a little alp at the foot of a vast
+precipice that sloped only a little in the gully down which he and his snow
+had come. Over against him another wall of rock reared itself against the
+sky. The gorge between these precipices ran east and west and was full of
+the morning sunlight, which lit to the westward the mass of fallen mountain
+that closed the descending gorge. Below him it seemed there was a precipice
+equally steep, but behind the snow in the gully he found a sort of
+chimney-cleft dripping with snow-water, down which a desperate man might
+venture. He found it easier than it seemed, and came at last to another
+desolate alp, and then after a rock climb of no particular difficulty to a
+steep slope of trees. He took his bearings and turned his face up the
+gorge, for he saw it opened out above upon green meadows, among which he
+now glimpsed quite distinctly a cluster of stone huts of unfamiliar
+fashion. At times his progress was like clambering along the face of a
+wall, and after a time the rising sun ceased to strike along the gorge, the
+voices of the singing birds died away, and the air grew cold and dark about
+him. But the distant valley with its houses was all the brighter for that.
+He came presently to talus, and among the rocks he noted--for he was an
+observant man--an unfamiliar fern that seemed to clutch out of the crevices
+with intense green hands. He picked a frond or so and gnawed its stalk, and
+found it helpful.
+
+About midday he came at last out of the throat of the gorge into the plain
+and the sunlight. He was stiff and weary; he sat down in the shadow of a
+rock, filled up his flask with water from a spring and drank it down, and
+remained for a time, resting before he went on to the houses.
+
+They were very strange to his eyes, and indeed the whole aspect of that
+valley became, as he regarded it, queerer and more unfamiliar. The greater
+part of its surface was lush green meadow, starred with many beautiful
+flowers, irrigated with extraordinary care, and bearing evidence of
+systematic cropping piece by piece. High up and ringing the valley about
+was a wall, and what appeared to be a circumferential water channel, from
+which the little trickles of water that fed the meadow plants came, and on
+the higher slopes above this flocks of llamas cropped the scanty herbage.
+Sheds, apparently shelters or feeding-places for the llamas, stood against
+the boundary wall here and there. The irrigation streams ran together into
+a main channel down the centre of the valley, and this was enclosed on
+either side by a wall breast high. This gave a singularly urban quality to
+this secluded place, a quality that was greatly enhanced by the fact that a
+number of paths paved with black and white stones, and each with a curious
+little kerb at the side, ran hither and thither in an orderly manner. The
+houses of the central village were quite unlike the casual and
+higgledy-piggledy agglomeration of the mountain villages he knew; they
+stood in a continuous row on either side of a central street of astonishing
+cleanness, here and there their parti-coloured facade was pierced by a
+door, and not a solitary window broke their even frontage. They were
+parti-coloured with extraordinary irregularity, smeared with a sort of
+plaster that was sometimes grey, sometimes drab, sometimes slate-coloured
+or dark brown; and it was the sight of this wild plastering first brought
+the word "blind" into the thoughts of the explorer. "The good man who did
+that," he thought, "must have been as blind as a bat."
+
+He descended a steep place, and so came to the wall and channel that ran
+about the valley, near where the latter spouted out its surplus contents
+into the deeps of the gorge in a thin and wavering thread of cascade. He
+could now see a number of men and women resting on piled heaps of grass, as
+if taking a siesta, in the remoter part of the meadow, and nearer the
+village a number of recumbent children, and then nearer at hand three men
+carrying pails on yokes along a little path that ran from the encircling
+wall towards the houses. These latter were clad in garments of llama cloth
+and boots and belts of leather, and they wore caps of cloth with back and
+ear flaps. They followed one another in single file, walking slowly and
+yawning as they walked, like men who have been up all night. There was
+something so reassuringly prosperous and respectable in their bearing that
+after a moment's hesitation Nunez stood forward as conspicuously as
+possible upon his rock, and gave vent to a mighty shout that echoed round
+the valley.
+
+[Illustration: "NUNEZ STOOD FORWARD AS CONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE UPON HIS
+ROCK."]
+
+The three men stopped, and moved their heads as though they were looking
+about them. They turned their faces this way and that, and Nunez
+gesticulated with freedom. But they did not appear to see him for all his
+gestures, and after a time, directing themselves towards the mountains far
+away to the right, they shouted as if in answer. Nunez bawled again, and
+then once more, and as he gestured ineffectually the word "blind" came up
+to the top of his thoughts. "The fools must be blind," he said.
+
+When at last, after much shouting and wrath, Nunez crossed the stream by a
+little bridge, came through a gate in the wall, and approached them, he was
+sure that they were blind. He was sure that this was the Country of the
+Blind of which the legends told. Conviction had sprung upon him, and a
+sense of great and rather enviable adventure. The three stood side by side,
+not looking at him, but with their ears directed towards him, judging him
+by his unfamiliar steps. They stood close together like men a little
+afraid, and he could see their eyelids closed and sunken, as though the
+very balls beneath had shrunk away. There was an expression near awe on
+their faces.
+
+"A man," one said, in hardly recognisable Spanish. "A man it is--a man or a
+spirit--coming down from the rocks."
+
+But Nunez advanced with the confident steps of a youth who enters upon
+life. All the old stories of the lost valley and the Country of the Blind
+had come back to his mind, and through his thoughts ran this old proverb,
+as if it were a refrain:--
+
+"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."
+
+"In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."
+
+And very civilly he gave them greeting. He talked to them and used his
+eyes.
+
+"Where does he come from, brother Pedro?" asked one.
+
+"Down out of the rocks."
+
+"Over the mountains I come," said Nunez, "out of the country beyond
+there--where men can see. From near Bogota--where there are a hundred
+thousands of people, and where the city passes out of sight."
+
+"Sight?" muttered Pedro. "Sight?"
+
+"He comes," said the second blind man, "out of the rocks."
+
+The cloth of their coats Nunez saw was curiously fashioned, each with a
+different sort of stitching.
+
+They startled him by a simultaneous movement towards him, each with a hand
+outstretched. He stepped back from the advance of these spread fingers.
+
+"Come hither," said the third blind man, following his motion and clutching
+him neatly.
+
+And they held Nunez and felt him over, saying no word further until they
+had done so.
+
+"Carefully," he cried, with a finger in his eye, and found they thought
+that organ, with its fluttering lids, a queer thing in him. They went over
+it again.
+
+"A strange creature, Correa," said the one called Pedro. "Feel the
+coarseness of his hair. Like a llama's hair."
+
+"Rough he is as the rocks that begot him," said Correa, investigating
+Nunez's unshaven chin with a soft and slightly moist hand. "Perhaps he will
+grow finer."
+
+Nunez struggled a little under their examination, but they gripped him
+firm.
+
+"Carefully," he said again.
+
+"He speaks," said the third man. "Certainly he is a man."
+
+"Ugh!" said Pedro, at the roughness of his coat.
+
+"And you have come into the world?" asked Pedro.
+
+"_Out_ of the world. Over mountains and glaciers; right over above there,
+half-way to the sun. Out of the great, big world that goes down, twelve
+days' journey to the sea."
+
+They scarcely seemed to heed him. "Our fathers have told us men may be made
+by the forces of Nature," said Correa. "It is the warmth of things, and
+moisture, and rottenness--rottenness."
+
+"Let us lead him to the elders," said Pedro.
+
+"Shout first," said Correa, "lest the children be afraid. This is a
+marvellous occasion."
+
+So they shouted, and Pedro went first and took Nunez by the hand to lead
+him to the houses.
+
+He drew his hand away. "I can see," he said.
+
+"See?" said Correa.
+
+"Yes; see," said Nunez, turning towards him, and stumbled against Pedro's
+pail.
+
+"His senses are still imperfect," said the third blind man. "He stumbles,
+and talks unmeaning words. Lead him by the hand."
+
+"As you will," said Nunez, and was led along, laughing.
+
+It seemed they knew nothing of sight.
+
+Well, all in good time he would teach them.
+
+He heard people shouting, and saw a number of figures gathering together
+in the middle roadway of the village.
+
+[Illustration: "'CAREFULLY,' HE CRIED, WITH A FINGER IN HIS EYE."]
+
+He found it tax his nerve and patience more than he had anticipated, that
+first encounter with the population of the Country of the Blind. The place
+seemed larger as he drew near to it, and the smeared plasterings queerer,
+and a crowd of children and men and women (the women and girls he was
+pleased to note had, some of them, quite sweet faces, for all that their
+eyes were shut and sunken) came about him, holding on to him, touching him
+with soft, sensitive hands, smelling at him, and listening at every word he
+spoke. Some of the maidens and children, however, kept aloof as if afraid,
+and indeed his voice seemed coarse and rude beside their softer notes. They
+mobbed him. His three guides kept close to him with an effect of
+proprietorship, and said again and again, "A wild man out of the rocks."
+
+"Bogota," he said. "Bogota. Over the mountain crests."
+
+"A wild man--using wild words," said Pedro. "Did you hear that--_Bogota_?
+His mind has hardly formed yet. He has only the beginnings of speech."
+
+A little boy nipped his hand. "Bogota!" he said, mockingly.
+
+"Aye! A city to your village. I come from the great world--where men have
+eyes and see."
+
+"His name's Bogota," they said.
+
+"He stumbled," said Correa--"stumbled twice as we came hither."
+
+"Bring him in to the elders."
+
+And they thrust him suddenly through a doorway into a room as black as
+pitch, save at the end there faintly glowed a fire. The crowd closed in
+behind him and shut out all but the faintest glimmer of day, and before he
+could arrest himself he had fallen headlong over the feet of a seated man.
+His arm, out-flung, struck the face of someone else as he went down; he
+felt the soft impact of features and heard a cry of anger, and for a moment
+he struggled against a number of hands that clutched him. It was a
+one-sided fight. An inkling of the situation came to him and he lay quiet.
+
+"I fell down," he said; "I couldn't see in this pitchy darkness."
+
+There was a pause as if the unseen persons about him tried to understand
+his words. Then the voice of Correa said: "He is but newly formed. He
+stumbles as he walks and mingles words that mean nothing with his speech."
+
+Others also said things about him that he heard or understood imperfectly.
+
+"May I sit up?" he asked, in a pause. "I will not struggle against you
+again."
+
+They consulted and let him rise.
+
+The voice of an older man began to question him, and Nunez found himself
+trying to explain the great world out of which he had fallen, and the sky
+and mountains and sight and such-like marvels, to these elders who sat in
+darkness in the Country of the Blind. And they would believe and understand
+nothing whatever that he told them, a thing quite outside his expectation.
+They would not even understand many of his words. For fourteen generations
+these people had been blind and cut off from all the seeing world; the
+names for all the things of sight had faded and changed; the story of the
+outer world was faded and changed to a child's story; and they had ceased
+to concern themselves with anything beyond the rocky slopes above their
+circling wall. Blind men of genius had arisen among them and questioned the
+shreds of belief and tradition they had brought with them from their seeing
+days, and had dismissed all these things as idle fancies and replaced them
+with new and saner explanations. Much of their imagination had shrivelled
+with their eyes, and they had made for themselves new imaginations with
+their ever more sensitive ears and fingertips. Slowly Nunez realized this:
+that his expectation of wonder and reverence at his origin and his gifts
+was not to be borne out; and after his poor attempt to explain sight to
+them had been set aside as the confused version of a new-made being
+describing the marvels of his incoherent sensations, he subsided, a little
+dashed, into listening to their instruction. And the eldest of the blind
+men explained to him life and philosophy and religion, how that the world
+(meaning their valley) had been first an empty hollow in the rocks, and
+then had come first inanimate things without the gift of touch, and llamas
+and a few other creatures that had little sense, and then men, and at last
+angels, whom one could hear singing and making fluttering sounds, but whom
+no one could touch at all, which puzzled Nunez greatly until he thought of
+the birds.
+
+He went on to tell Nunez how this time had been divided into the warm and
+the cold, which are the blind equivalents of day and night, and how it was
+good to sleep in the warm and work during the cold, so that now, but for
+his advent, the whole town of the blind would have been asleep. He said
+Nunez must have been specially created to learn and serve the wisdom they
+had acquired, and that for all his mental incoherency and stumbling
+behaviour he must have courage and do his best to learn, and at that all
+the people in the doorway murmured encouragingly. He said the night--for
+the blind call their day night--was now far gone, and it behoved everyone
+to go back to sleep. He asked Nunez if he knew how to sleep, and Nunez said
+he did, but that before sleep he wanted food. They brought him food,
+llama's milk in a bowl and rough salted bread, and led him into a lonely
+place to eat out of their hearing, and afterwards to slumber until the
+chill of the mountain evening roused them to begin their day again. But
+Nunez slumbered not at all.
+
+Instead, he sat up in the place where they had left him, resting his limbs
+and turning the unanticipated circumstances of his arrival over and over in
+his mind.
+
+Every now and then he laughed, sometimes with amusement and sometimes with
+indignation.
+
+"Unformed mind!" he said. "Got no senses yet! They little know they've been
+insulting their Heaven-sent King and master....
+
+"I see I must bring them to reason.
+
+"Let me think.
+
+"Let me think."
+
+He was still thinking when the sun set.
+
+Nunez had an eye for all beautiful things, and it seemed to him that the
+glow upon the snow-fields and glaciers that rose about the valley on every
+side was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His eyes went from that
+inaccessible glory to the village and irrigated fields, fast sinking into
+the twilight, and suddenly a wave of emotion took him, and he thanked God
+from the bottom of his heart that the power of sight had been given him.
+
+He heard a voice calling to him from out of the village.
+
+"Yaho there, Bogota! Come hither!"
+
+At that he stood up, smiling. He would show these people once and for all
+what sight would do for a man. They would seek him, but not find him.
+
+"You move not, Bogota," said the voice.
+
+He laughed noiselessly and made two stealthy steps aside from the path.
+
+"Trample not on the grass, Bogota; that is not allowed."
+
+Nunez had scarcely heard the sound he made himself. He stopped, amazed.
+
+The owner of the voice came running up the piebald path towards him.
+
+He stepped back into the pathway. "Here I am," he said.
+
+"Why did you not come when I called you?" said the blind man. "Must you be
+led like a child? Cannot you hear the path as you walk?"
+
+Nunez laughed. "I can see it," he said.
+
+"There is no such word as _see_," said the blind man, after a pause. "Cease
+this folly and follow the sound of my feet."
+
+Nunez followed, a little annoyed.
+
+"My time will come," he said.
+
+"You'll learn," the blind man answered. "There is much to learn in the
+world."
+
+"Has no one told you, 'In the Country of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is
+King'?"
+
+"What is blind?" asked the blind man, carelessly, over his shoulder.
+
+Four days passed and the fifth found the King of the Blind still incognito,
+as a clumsy and useless stranger among his subjects.
+
+It was, he found, much more difficult to proclaim himself than he had
+supposed, and in the meantime, while he meditated his _coup d'etat_, he did
+what he was told and learnt the manners and customs of the Country of the
+Blind. He found working and going about at night a particularly irksome
+thing, and he decided that that should be the first thing he would change.
+
+They led a simple, laborious life, these people, with all the elements of
+virtue and happiness as these things can be understood by men. They toiled,
+but not oppressively; they had food and clothing sufficient for their
+needs; they had days and seasons of rest; they made much of music and
+singing, and there was love among them and little children. It was
+marvellous with what confidence and precision they went about their ordered
+world. Everything, you see, had been made to fit their needs; each of the
+radiating paths of the valley area had a constant angle to the others, and
+was distinguished by a special notch upon its kerbing; all obstacles and
+irregularities of path or meadow had long since been cleared away; all
+their methods and procedure arose naturally from their special needs. Their
+senses had become marvellously acute; they could hear and judge the
+slightest gesture of a man a dozen paces away--could hear the very beating
+of his heart. Intonation had long replaced expression with them, and
+touches gesture, and their work with hoe and spade and fork was as free and
+confident as garden work can be. Their sense of smell was extraordinarily
+fine; they could distinguish individual differences as readily as a dog
+can, and they went about the tending of llamas, who lived among the rocks
+above and came to the wall for food and shelter, with ease and confidence.
+It was only when at last Nunez sought to assert himself that he found how
+easy and confident their movements could be.
+
+He rebelled only after he had tried persuasion.
+
+[Illustration: "THE GLOW UPON THE SNOW-FIELDS AND GLACIERS WAS THE MOST
+BEAUTIFUL THING HE HAD EVER SEEN."]
+
+He tried at first on several occasions to tell them of sight. "Look you
+here, you people," he said. "There are things you do not understand in me."
+
+Once or twice one or two of them attended to him; they sat with faces
+downcast and ears turned intelligently towards him, and he did his best to
+tell them what it was to see. Among his hearers was a girl, with eyelids
+less red and sunken than the others, so that one could almost fancy she was
+hiding eyes, whom especially he hoped to persuade. He spoke of the beauties
+of sight, of watching the mountains, of the sky and the sunrise, and they
+heard him with amused incredulity that presently became condemnatory. They
+told him there were indeed no mountains at all, but that the end of the
+rocks where the llamas grazed was indeed the end of the world; thence
+sprang a cavernous roof of the universe, from which the dew and the
+avalanches fell; and when he maintained stoutly the world had neither end
+nor roof such as they supposed, they said his thoughts were wicked. So far
+as he could describe sky and clouds and stars to them it seemed to them a
+hideous void, a terrible blankness in the place of the smooth roof to
+things in which they believed--it was an article of faith with them that
+the cavern roof was exquisitely smooth to the touch. He saw that in some
+manner he shocked them, and gave up that aspect of the matter altogether,
+and tried to show them the practical value of sight. One morning he saw
+Pedro in the path called Seventeen and coming towards the central houses,
+but still too far off for hearing or scent, and he told them as much. "In a
+little while," he prophesied, "Pedro will be here." An old man remarked
+that Pedro had no business on path Seventeen, and then, as if in
+confirmation, that individual as he drew near turned and went transversely
+into path Ten, and so back with nimble paces towards the outer wall. They
+mocked Nunez when Pedro did not arrive, and afterwards, when he asked Pedro
+questions to clear his character, Pedro denied and outfaced him, and was
+afterwards hostile to him.
+
+Then he induced them to let him go a long way up the sloping meadows
+towards the wall with one complaisant individual, and to him he promised to
+describe all that happened among the houses. He noted certain goings and
+comings, but the things that really seemed to signify to these people
+happened inside of or behind the windowless houses--the only things they
+took note of to test him by--and of those he could see or tell nothing; and
+it was after the failure of this attempt, and the ridicule they could not
+repress, that he resorted to force. He thought of seizing a spade and
+suddenly smiting one or two of them to earth, and so in fair combat showing
+the advantage of eyes. He went so far with that resolution as to seize his
+spade, and then he discovered a new thing about himself, and that was that
+it was impossible for him to hit a blind man in cold blood.
+
+He hesitated, and found them all aware that he had snatched up the spade.
+They stood all alert, with their heads on one side, and bent ears towards
+him for what he would do next.
+
+"Put that spade down," said one, and he felt a sort of helpless horror. He
+came near obedience.
+
+Then he had thrust one backwards against a house wall, and fled past him
+and out of the village.
+
+He went athwart one of their meadows, leaving a track of trampled grass
+behind his feet, and presently sat down by the side of one of their ways.
+He felt something of the buoyancy that comes to all men in the beginning of
+a fight, but more perplexity. He began to realize that you cannot even
+fight happily with creatures who stand upon a different mental basis to
+yourself. Far away he saw a number of men carrying spades and sticks come
+out of the street of houses and advance in a spreading line along the
+several paths towards him. They advanced slowly, speaking frequently to one
+another, and ever and again the whole cordon would halt and sniff the air
+and listen.
+
+The first time they did this Nunez laughed. But afterwards he did not
+laugh.
+
+One struck his trail in the meadow grass and came stooping and feeling his
+way along it.
+
+For five minutes he watched the slow extension of the cordon, and then his
+vague disposition to do something forthwith became frantic. He stood up,
+went a pace or so towards the circumferential wall, turned, and went back a
+little way. There they all stood in a crescent, still and listening.
+
+He also stood still, gripping his spade very tightly in both hands. Should
+he charge them?
+
+The pulse in his ears ran into the rhythm of "In the Country of the Blind
+the One-Eyed Man is King!"
+
+Should he charge them?
+
+He looked back at the high and unclimbable wall behind--unclimbable because
+of its smooth plastering, but withal pierced with many little doors, and at
+the approaching line of seekers. Behind these others were now coming out of
+the street of houses.
+
+Should he charge them?
+
+"Bogota!" called one. "Bogota! where are you?"
+
+He gripped his spade still tighter and advanced down the meadows towards
+the place of habitations, and directly he moved they converged upon him.
+"I'll hit them if they touch me," he swore; "by Heaven, I will. I'll hit."
+He called aloud, "Look here, I'm going to do what I like in this valley! Do
+you hear? I'm going to do what I like and go where I like."
+
+[Illustration: "THEY WERE MOVING IN UPON HIM QUICKLY."]
+
+They were moving in upon him quickly, groping, yet moving rapidly. It was
+like playing blind man's buff with everyone blind-folded except one. "Get
+hold of him!" cried one. He found himself in the arc of a loose curve of
+pursuers. He felt suddenly he must be active and resolute.
+
+"You don't understand," he cried, in a voice that was meant to be great and
+resolute, and which broke. "You are blind and I can see. Leave me alone!"
+
+"Bogota! Put down that spade and come off the grass!"
+
+The last order, grotesque in its urban familiarity, produced a gust of
+anger. "I'll hurt you," he said, sobbing with emotion. "By Heaven, I'll
+hurt you! Leave me alone!"
+
+He began to run--not knowing clearly where to run. He ran from the nearest
+blind man, because it was a horror to hit him. He stopped, and then made a
+dash to escape from their closing ranks. He made for where a gap was wide,
+and the men on either side, with a quick perception of the approach of his
+paces, rushed in on one another. He sprang forward, and then saw he must be
+caught, and _swish!_ the spade had struck. He felt the soft thud of hand
+and arm, and the man was down with a yell of pain, and he was through.
+
+Through! And then he was close to the street of houses again, and blind
+men, whirling spades and stakes, were running with a sort of reasoned
+swiftness hither and thither.
+
+He heard steps behind him just in time, and found a tall man rushing
+forward and swiping at the sound of him. He lost his nerve, hurled his
+spade a yard wide at this antagonist, and whirled about and fled, fairly
+yelling as he dodged another.
+
+He was panic-stricken. He ran furiously to and fro, dodging when there was
+no need to dodge, and, in his anxiety to see on every side of him at once,
+stumbling. For a moment he was down and they heard his fall. Far away in
+the circumferential wall a little doorway looked like Heaven, and he set
+off in a wild rush for it. He did not even look round at his pursuers until
+it was gained, and he had stumbled across the bridge, clambered a little
+way among the rocks, to the surprise and dismay of a young llama, who went
+leaping out of sight, and lay down sobbing for breath.
+
+And so his _coup d'etat_ came to an end.
+
+He stayed outside the wall of the valley of the blind for two nights and
+days without food or shelter, and meditated upon the Unexpected. During
+these meditations he repeated very frequently and always with a profounder
+note of derision the exploded proverb: "In the Country of the Blind the
+One-Eyed Man is King." He thought chiefly of ways of fighting and
+conquering these people, and it grew clear that for him no practicable way
+was possible. He had no weapons, and now it would be hard to get one.
+
+The canker of civilization had got to him even in Bogota, and he could not
+find it in himself to go down and assassinate a blind man. Of course, if he
+did that, he might then dictate terms on the threat of assassinating them
+all. But----Sooner or later he must sleep!...
+
+He tried also to find food among the pine trees, to be comfortable under
+pine boughs while the frost fell at night, and--with less confidence--to
+catch a llama by artifice in order to try to kill it--perhaps by hammering
+it with a stone--and so finally, perhaps, to eat some of it. But the llamas
+had a doubt of him and regarded him with distrustful brown eyes and spat
+when he drew near. Fear came on him the second day and fits of shivering.
+Finally he crawled down to the wall of the Country of the Blind and tried
+to make his terms. He crawled along by the stream, shouting, until two
+blind men came out to the gate and talked to him.
+
+"I was mad," he said. "But I was only newly made."
+
+They said that was better.
+
+He told them he was wiser now, and repented of all he had done.
+
+Then he wept without intention, for he was very weak and ill now, and they
+took that as a favourable sign.
+
+They asked him if he still thought he could "_see_."
+
+"No," he said. "That was folly. The word means nothing. Less than nothing!"
+
+They asked him what was overhead.
+
+"About ten times ten the height of a man there is a roof above the
+world--of rock--and very, very smooth. So smooth--so beautifully
+smooth...." He burst again into hysterical tears. "Before you ask me any
+more, give me some food or I shall die!"
+
+He expected dire punishments, but these blind people were capable of
+toleration. They regarded his rebellion as but one more proof of his
+general idiocy and inferiority, and after they had whipped him they
+appointed him to do the simplest and heaviest work they had for anyone to
+do, and he, seeing no other way of living, did submissively what he was
+told.
+
+He was ill for some days and they nursed him kindly. That refined his
+submission. But they insisted on his lying in the dark, and that was a
+great misery. And blind philosophers came and talked to him of the wicked
+levity of his mind, and reproved him so impressively for his doubts about
+the lid of rock that covered their cosmic _casserole_ that he almost
+doubted whether indeed he was not the victim of hallucination in not seeing
+it overhead.
+
+So Nunez became a citizen of the Country of the Blind, and these people
+ceased to be a generalized people and became individualities to him, and
+familiar to him, while the world beyond the mountains became more and more
+remote and unreal. There was Yacob, his master, a kindly man when not
+annoyed; there was Pedro, Yacob's nephew; and there was Medina-sarote, who
+was the youngest daughter of Yacob. She was little esteemed in the world of
+the blind, because she had a clear-cut face and lacked that satisfying,
+glossy smoothness that is the blind man's ideal of feminine beauty, but
+Nunez thought her beautiful at first, and presently the most beautiful
+thing in the whole creation. Her closed eyelids were not sunken and red
+after the common way of the valley, but lay as though they might open again
+at any moment; and she had long eyelashes, which were considered a grave
+disfigurement. And her voice was weak and did not satisfy the acute hearing
+of the valley swains. So that she had no lover.
+
+There came a time when Nunez thought that, could he win her, he would be
+resigned to live in the valley for all the rest of his days.
+
+He watched her; he sought opportunities of doing her little services, and
+presently he found that she observed him. Once at a rest-day gathering they
+sat side by side in the dim starlight, and the music was sweet. His hand
+came upon hers and he dared to clasp it. Then very tenderly she returned
+his pressure. And one day, as they were at their meal in the darkness, he
+felt her hand very softly seeking him, and as it chanced the fire leapt
+then, and he saw the tenderness of her face.
+
+He sought to speak to her.
+
+He went to her one day when she was sitting in the summer moonlight
+spinning. The light made her a thing of silver and mystery. He sat down at
+her feet and told her he loved her, and told her how beautiful she seemed
+to him. He had a lover's voice, he spoke with a tender reverence that came
+near to awe, and she had never before been touched by adoration. She made
+him no definite answer, but it was clear his words pleased her.
+
+[Illustration: "HE SAT DOWN AT HER FEET."]
+
+After that he talked to her whenever he could take an opportunity. The
+valley became the world for him, and the world beyond the mountains where
+men lived by day seemed no more than a fairy tale he would some day pour
+into her ears. Very tentatively and timidly he spoke to her of sight.
+
+Sight seemed to her the most poetical of fancies, and she listened to his
+description of the stars and the mountains and her own sweet white-lit
+beauty as though it was a guilty indulgence. She did not believe, she could
+only half understand, but she was mysteriously delighted, and it seemed to
+him that she completely understood.
+
+His love lost its awe and took courage. Presently he was for demanding her
+of Yacob and the elders in marriage, but she became fearful and delayed.
+And it was one of her elder sisters who first told Yacob that Medina-sarote
+and Nunez were in love.
+
+There was from the first very great opposition to the marriage of Nunez and
+Medina-sarote; not so much because they valued her as because they held him
+as a being apart, an idiot, incompetent thing below the permissible level
+of a man. Her sisters opposed it bitterly as bringing discredit on them
+all; and old Yacob, though he had formed a sort of liking for his clumsy,
+obedient serf, shook his head and said the thing could not be. The young
+men were all angry at the idea of corrupting the race, and one went so far
+as to revile and strike Nunez. He struck back. Then for the first time he
+found an advantage in seeing, even by twilight, and after that fight was
+over no one was disposed to raise a hand against him. But they still found
+his marriage impossible.
+
+Old Yacob had a tenderness for his last little daughter, and was grieved to
+have her weep upon his shoulder.
+
+"You see, my dear, he's an idiot. He has delusions; he can't do anything
+right."
+
+"I know," wept Medina-sarote. "But he's better than he was. He's getting
+better. And he's strong, dear father, and kind--stronger and kinder than
+any other man in the world. And he loves me--and, father, I love him."
+
+Old Yacob was greatly distressed to find her inconsolable, and,
+besides--what made it more distressing--he liked Nunez for many things. So
+he went and sat in the windowless council-chamber with the other elders and
+watched the trend of the talk, and said, at the proper time, "He's better
+than he was. Very likely, some day, we shall find him as sane as
+ourselves."
+
+Then afterwards one of the elders, who thought deeply, had an idea. He was
+the great doctor among these people, their medicine-man, and he had a very
+philosophical and inventive mind, and the idea of curing Nunez of his
+peculiarities appealed to him. One day when Yacob was present he returned
+to the topic of Nunez. "I have examined Nunez," he said, "and the case is
+clearer to me. I think very probably he might be cured."
+
+"That is what I have always hoped," said old Yacob.
+
+"His brain is affected," said the blind doctor.
+
+The elders murmured assent.
+
+[Illustration: "'HIS BRAIN IS AFFECTED,' SAID THE BLIND DOCTOR."]
+
+"Now, _what_ affects it?"
+
+"Ah!" said old Yacob.
+
+"_This_," said the doctor, answering his own question. "Those queer things
+that are called the eyes, and which exist to make an agreeable depression
+in the face, are diseased, in the case of Nunez, in such a way as to affect
+his brain. They are greatly distended, he has eyelashes, and his eyelids
+move, and consequently his brain is in a state of constant irritation and
+distraction."
+
+"Yes?" said old Yacob. "Yes?"
+
+"And I think I may say with reasonable certainty that, in order to cure him
+completely, all that we need to do is a simple and easy surgical
+operation--namely, to remove these irritant bodies."
+
+"And then he will be sane?"
+
+"Then he will be perfectly sane, and a quite admirable citizen."
+
+"Thank Heaven for science!" said old Yacob, and went forth at once to tell
+Nunez of his happy hopes.
+
+But Nunez's manner of receiving the good news struck him as being cold and
+disappointing.
+
+"One might think," he said, "from the tone you take that you did not care
+for my daughter."
+
+It was Medina-sarote who persuaded Nunez to face the blind surgeons.
+
+"_You_ do not want me," he said, "to lose my gift of sight?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"My world is sight."
+
+Her head drooped lower.
+
+"There are the beautiful things, the beautiful little things--the flowers,
+the lichens amidst the rocks, the light and softness on a piece of fur, the
+far sky with its drifting down of clouds, the sunsets and the stars. And
+there is _you_. For you alone it is good to have sight, to see your sweet,
+serene face, your kindly lips, your dear, beautiful hands folded
+together.... It is these eyes of mine you won, these eyes that hold me to
+you, that these idiots seek. Instead, I must touch you, hear you, and never
+see you again. I must come under that roof of rock and stone and darkness,
+that horrible roof under which your imaginations stoop.... _No_; _you_
+would not have me do that?"
+
+A disagreeable doubt had arisen in him. He stopped and left the thing a
+question.
+
+"I wish," she said, "sometimes----" She paused.
+
+"Yes?" said he, a little apprehensively.
+
+"I wish sometimes--you would not talk like that."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+[Illustration: "HE HAD A FEW MINUTES WITH MEDINA-SAROTE BEFORE SHE WENT
+APART TO SLEEP."]
+
+"I know it's pretty--it's your imagination. I love it, but _now_----"
+
+He felt cold. "_Now?_" he said, faintly.
+
+She sat quite still.
+
+"You mean--you think--I should be better, better perhaps----"
+
+He was realizing things very swiftly. He felt anger perhaps, anger at the
+dull course of fate, but also sympathy for her lack of understanding--a
+sympathy near akin to pity. "_Dear_," he said, and he could see by her
+whiteness how tensely her spirit pressed against the things she could not
+say. He put his arms about her, he kissed her ear, and they sat for a time
+in silence.
+
+"If I were to consent to this?" he said at last, in a voice that was very
+gentle.
+
+She flung her arms about him, weeping wildly. "Oh, if you would," she
+sobbed, "if only you would!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a week before the operation that was to raise him from his servitude
+and inferiority to the level of a blind citizen Nunez knew nothing of
+sleep, and all through the warm, sunlit hours, while the others slumbered
+happily, he sat brooding or wandered aimlessly, trying to bring his mind to
+bear on his dilemma. He had given his answer, he had given his consent, and
+still he was not sure. And at last work-time was over, the sun rose in
+splendour over the golden crests, and his last day of vision began for him.
+He had a few minutes with Medina-sarote before she went apart to sleep.
+
+"To-morrow," he said, "I shall see no more."
+
+"Dear heart!" she answered, and pressed his hands with all her strength.
+
+"They will hurt you but little," she said; "and you are going through this
+pain, you are going through it, dear lover, for _me_.... Dear, if a woman's
+heart and life can do it, I will repay you. My dearest one, my dearest with
+the tender voice, I will repay."
+
+He was drenched in pity for himself and her.
+
+He held her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers and looked on her
+sweet face for the last time. "Good-bye!" he whispered to that dear sight,
+"good-bye!"
+
+And then in silence he turned away from her.
+
+She could hear his slow retreating footsteps, and something in the rhythm
+of them threw her into a passion of weeping.
+
+He walked away.
+
+He had fully meant to go to a lonely place where the meadows were beautiful
+with white narcissus, and there remain until the hour of his sacrifice
+should come, but as he walked he lifted up his eyes and saw the morning,
+the morning like an angel in golden armour, marching down the steeps....
+
+It seemed to him that before this splendour he and this blind world in the
+valley, and his love and all, were no more than a pit of sin.
+
+He did not turn aside as he had meant to do, but went on and passed through
+the wall of the circumference and out upon the rocks, and his eyes were
+always upon the sunlit ice and snow.
+
+He saw their infinite beauty, and his imagination soared over them to the
+things beyond he was now to resign for ever!
+
+He thought of that great free world that he was parted from, the world that
+was his own, and he had a vision of those further slopes, distance beyond
+distance, with Bogota, a place of multitudinous stirring beauty, a glory by
+day, a luminous mystery by night, a place of palaces and fountains and
+statues and white houses, lying beautifully in the middle distance. He
+thought how for a day or so one might come down through passes drawing ever
+nearer and nearer to its busy streets and ways. He thought of the river
+journey, day by day, from great Bogota to the still vaster world beyond,
+through towns and villages, forest and desert places, the rushing river day
+by day, until its banks receded and the big steamers came splashing by and
+one had reached the sea--the limitless sea, with its thousand islands, its
+thousands of islands, and its ships seen dimly far away in their incessant
+journeyings round and about that greater world. And there, unpent by
+mountains, one saw the sky--the sky, not such a disc as one saw it here,
+but an arch of immeasurable blue, a deep of deeps in which the circling
+stars were floating....
+
+His eyes began to scrutinize the great curtain of the mountains with a
+keener inquiry.
+
+For example: if one went so, up that gully and to that chimney there, then
+one might come out high among those stunted pines that ran round in a sort
+of shelf and rose still higher and higher as it passed above the gorge. And
+then? That talus might be managed. Thence perhaps a climb might be found to
+take him up to the precipice that came below the snow; and if that chimney
+failed, then another farther to the east might serve his purpose better.
+And then? Then one would be out upon the amber-lit snow there, and half-way
+up to the crest of those beautiful desolations. And suppose one had good
+fortune!
+
+He glanced back at the village, then turned right round and regarded it
+with folded arms.
+
+He thought of Medina-sarote, and she had become small and remote.
+
+He turned again towards the mountain wall down which the day had come to
+him.
+
+Then, very circumspectly he began his climb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When sunset came he was no longer climbing, but he was far and high. His
+clothes were torn, his limbs were blood-stained, he was bruised in many
+places, but he lay as if he were at his ease, and there was a smile on his
+face.
+
+From where he rested the valley seemed as if it were in a pit and nearly a
+mile below. Already it was dim with haze and shadow, though the mountain
+summits around him were things of light and fire. The mountain summits
+around him were things of light and fire, and the little things in the
+rocks near at hand were drenched with light and beauty, a vein of green
+mineral piercing the grey, a flash of small crystal here and there, a
+minute, minutely-beautiful orange lichen close beside his face. There were
+deep, mysterious shadows in the gorge, blue deepening into purple, and
+purple into a luminous darkness, and overhead was the illimitable vastness
+of the sky. But he heeded these things no longer, but lay quite still
+there, smiling as if he were content now merely to have escaped from the
+valley of the Blind, in which he had thought to be King. And the glow of
+the sunset passed, and the night came, and still he lay there, under the
+cold, clear stars.
+
+
+
+
+_Off the Track in London._
+
+BY GEORGE R. SIMS.
+
+
+I. IN ALIEN-LAND.
+
+It is many a long year since I first began to find delight in wandering
+through the least-known districts of the capital, in visiting strange
+quarters inhabited by strange people, in penetrating dim, mysterious
+regions where thousands of our fellow-citizens live, cut off from the rest
+of the populace by a network of streets and slums into which it is nobody's
+business but the inhabitants' to enter, and where a visitor from beyond is
+rarely seen.
+
+At first my travels were undertaken solely to gratify my own curiosity.
+Later on, when there came to me an opportunity of exploring with a less
+selfish end in view, many circumstances combined to give me an insight into
+the life of the people which I could never have gained as a mere onlooker.
+So it has come about that to-day I can not only survey the streets of the
+strange lands in the capital of King Edward, but I can enter the houses and
+take my notes from the cellar to the roof. I am privileged to sit around
+the coke fire in lodging-houses where an ordinary stranger would meet with
+scant courtesy; and the mysteries of "How the Poor Live" are freely
+unveiled to me. In the vilest of the native quarters, in the queerest of
+the foreign quarters, I am permitted to spend days and nights, not peeping
+furtively at the human comedies and tragedies in which the strange men and
+women are players, but made way for as one entitled to a front place in the
+local audience.
+
+Of some of the things that I have seen I have written from time to time,
+but I have always longed for the pencil of the artist to enable the reader
+to realize what some of the scenes actually mean. And now my wish has been
+gratified. I have been able to wander off the track in London accompanied
+by an artist _confrere_, and to provide him with opportunities for making
+sketches on the spot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is four o'clock on Sunday afternoon as we come out of Aldgate Station
+and in a few minutes turn into Middlesex Street, littered with paper and
+straw and rubbish, the remains of the great Sunday morning market, which is
+at its highest at noon and gradually disappears as the afternoon wears on.
+
+The scene is known to most Londoners, for the fame of Petticoat Lane, as
+the street was formerly called, has spread through the length and breadth
+of the land.
+
+But we must pass through it to get off the track in the Ghetto, which has
+burst its old boundaries and now extends over a large area which until
+lately was a Christian quarter.
+
+It is not till we come to Wentworth Street that the strangeness of the
+Sunday scene reveals itself. Here all the shops are open and the narrow
+thoroughfare is packed with the stalls of Jewish hawkers. We hear a little
+English at the top of Wentworth Street, but as we push our way through the
+seething crowd and get nearer to Brick Lane the English words become rarer
+and rarer, and presently only the German Hebrew jargon known as "Yiddish"
+reaches our ears.
+
+We are in the heart of the old Ghetto. The alien immigrants, many of them
+fresh from the Pale of Settlement in Russia and the persecutions of
+Roumania, are chaffering and bargaining with their co-religionists who have
+been in London long enough to stock a barrow or a stall and start on the
+path of financial progress, which may lead their sons, if not themselves,
+_via_ Dalston, Canonbury, Maida Vale, and Bayswater, to Kensington, and
+perhaps Park Lane.
+
+Stop for a moment and gaze at the crowd. A London child seeing it for the
+first time would look at the faces and recall the Bible pictures.
+Everywhere the Oriental type predominates. The old, solemn-looking men--the
+poorest of the hawkers, for they have come to the Land of Promise too late
+to struggle out of the ruck--have the beards and features of the
+Patriarchs. They are calling aloud the price of their poor goods in the
+lachrymose sing-song of the Eastern pedlar. Pious Jews are these aged
+immigrants, and if you were to follow them to their synagogue you would see
+them swaying to and fro as they repeat their prayers in the same mournful,
+wailing voice with which they cry their wares.
+
+[Illustration: "IN WENTWORTH STREET."]
+
+The women are as Eastern as the men. The girls are handsome, dark-haired,
+dark-eyed daughters of Israel, whose type of beauty has not changed in all
+the thousand years of persecution and exile.
+
+The younger women are well dressed, with a tendency to brilliant colours
+and the "Paris fashion" that is displayed in the gay millinery shops of the
+Ghetto. The children, who have been running in and out of the crowd, are
+neat and clean, their pinafores are white, their boots are good and
+well-fitting, their hair is bound with bright ribbons, and their frocks are
+pretty. The first thought of the poorest alien immigrant is for his
+children, and his pride is to see them well clad and well cared for.
+
+The middle-aged women and the old women are true daughters of the East.
+They wear coloured shawls over their heads. There is a curious monotony in
+the coiffure of the women of the Ghetto who have passed their first youth.
+The woman of thirty and the woman of seventy seem equally well supplied
+with a head of glossy black hair. The stranger wonders, as he looks into an
+old, wrinkled face, at the abundance of black hair surmounting it. If he
+asks the reason he will learn that many of the Russian Jewesses cut their
+own hair off on the day of their marriage and wear a wig for the rest of
+their lives. To the Oriental the glory of a woman is her hair. The Jewish
+bride was expected to sacrifice this attraction in order that she should
+not entice the eyes of men.
+
+[Illustration: "A CLOTHES AUCTION IN FULL SWING."]
+
+It is a custom of long ago and the Russian Jewesses adhere to it. Most of
+the older women came into the Ghetto straight from the ship that landed
+them in the Thames, and they rarely go beyond its boundaries. Many of them
+would not if they had the chance.
+
+Here is a clothes auction in full swing. The sombre shop, the front window
+of which is pushed half-way up, is packed with ready-made suits. The
+proprietor is selling them to an eager crowd of men, who, when their bid is
+accepted, take trousers, coats, and waistcoats over their arm and walk away
+with their purchase. There is a tailor's shop close at hand where twenty
+cutters and a large number of hands are employed in preparing suits solely
+for the Sunday sale in this street.
+
+Within a stone's throw of this street is a great Sunday gold and diamond
+market. During the morning and early afternoon you may see a number of men
+with little wash-leather bags or velvet-lined cases displaying their
+glittering merchandise to one another. The jewel mart and exchange is in
+progress. Many hundreds of pounds' worth of jewels change hands within a
+few minutes. In Wentworth Street the buyer will haggle and bargain for half
+an hour over a few pence. In St. James's Place a transaction involving
+hundreds of pounds is carried out in a minute with scarcely a superfluous
+word. The business is conducted with perfect good-humour, but the dealers
+are among the keenest and cleverest men in the City of London.
+
+But we are still only half off the track, for now and again the Gentile
+sightseer penetrates as far as this.
+
+As we come out from Wentworth Street into Brick Lane, where there is no
+market and so no crowd, the long line of open shops and busy warehouses,
+the hum and bustle of trade and toil in full swing, strike us as peculiar
+when we remember that it is Sunday. Leaving Brick Lane with its Russian
+post-office, its Roumanian restaurants, and shop after shop where the young
+men of the Ghetto take the syrups and temperance drinks that are their
+principal liquid refreshment, we make our way down Commercial Street and
+plunge into the new Ghetto, a vast area far more foreign than the old
+Ghetto, and now entirely given up to the alien immigrant. In the broad main
+thoroughfare the shops are all open and trade is at its height. The
+factories are busy, the furniture shops are loading their vans, the
+shipping agents and bankers are taking money for remittance to relatives
+abroad who are to leave the Russian Pale and come to the city paved with
+gold, or booking passages to America and the Colonies for the immigrants
+who are "moving on."
+
+Here the scene to the unaccustomed Gentile eye is only odd. Directly he
+turns into the small streets the stranger is filled with absolute
+astonishment. Many of them are still crowded with dwelling-houses of the
+poorest class; but where the Gentile dwelt the Jew trades. House after
+house has been transformed into a shop. Windows have been taken out and
+living rooms packed with merchandise. Every available corner is used, and
+one sees the proprietor sitting in a little front room so packed in with
+rolls of gay-coloured cloths, fancy boxes, and packages that one imagines
+his only way of getting out must be by a harlequin leap through the window.
+
+You may wander through miles of streets in this quarter and see the same
+strange sight--the immigrant Jew who has established himself keeping open
+shop in a dwelling-house all the Sunday through. You may see trade in full
+tide at eight o'clock in the morning. When midnight has rung out from the
+churches which still remain as memorials of the vanished Christian
+population you will still see the shops open and the Rembrandtesque figure
+of the owner sitting among his wares, waiting for a chance customer. He is
+perhaps reading a Yiddish paper, printed in Hebrew characters, by the light
+of a candle, slowly guttering to its last flicker.
+
+[Illustration: "THE ORIENTAL BAZAAR."]
+
+But it is not yet night, though the twilight is falling as we turn into
+Morgan Street, and come suddenly upon a page of the old Orient bound up in
+the book of modern Western life.
+
+Here is a building which is fitly labelled "The Oriental Bazaar." You are
+in London, but you might be in Cairo or Mogador. The bazaar or "market" is
+reached from the street by deep flights of steps. It is open to the sky,
+and beyond it and above it is a street of houses, and a roadway along which
+flit now and again Eastern women with gay-coloured shawls over their heads.
+
+The "shops" of the market are built in little recesses. In these sit silent
+Oriental figures--the dealers. Most of the day's business is over. There
+are only a few loiterers, and the men and women who keep the little shops
+sit silent and emotionless as the Arabs among their unsold wares. In one
+shop the stock has been sold out and the proprietor is sitting in the gloom
+playing cards with a little party of men friends.
+
+It is a picture for Rembrandt. The only light in the arched recess which
+forms the shop is that of a candle. Round the candle are grouped
+half-a-dozen dark, weird-looking men, all intent upon the game.
+
+There is one card to be played. Uttering a little guttural cry, the man who
+holds it brings it down on the counter with a thud. The game the men are
+playing is one peculiar to these people. It is called Clabber-yas. The last
+card played, the ninth trump, adds ten points to the score and wins the
+game.
+
+And at that moment the distant church bells ring out to call the Christian
+worshippers to evening prayer.
+
+But the Sabbath evening does not find the Jews undevout. The darkness has
+fallen now, and we make our way back to the crowded streets of the old
+Ghetto. Here the long lines of lighted shops are now packed with their
+evening customers, who are buying meat and groceries and selecting
+furniture, being measured for new suits, trying on smart hats and cloaks of
+the latest West-end fashion, and examining the pink and blue and yellow
+silk petticoats which make such a gay show in the brilliantly-lighted
+windows of the milliners. We turn into a quiet street where the prevailing
+note is gloom, and, having secured the friendly escort of a Jewish
+clergyman's son, without whose presence we should hesitate to intrude, we
+pass through a dark doorway and find ourselves among a group of men whose
+features and whose occupations would have delighted the heart of Gustave
+Dore.
+
+In the hall, or ante-room, of the building are shelves packed with
+ancient-looking volumes--books of Rabbinic lore and law. Gathered together
+in groups are a number of Jews, young and old, who are standing around a
+desk at which an aged man with a long grey beard is reading a well-worn
+volume and explaining certain passages of it to the men who crowd about him
+and listen intently to his words.
+
+We are in the ante-room of a building which is known as the "Machazeke
+Hadass V'Shomrei Shabbas"--that is, "The Strengtheners of the Law and
+Guardians of the Sabbath." It is known officially as "The Spitalfields
+Great Synagogue." The members of it, almost all alien immigrants, comprise
+the ultra-orthodox section of the community. They have their own Chief
+Rabbi, their own Shechita Board (the board that controls the slaughtering
+of animals), and their own Beth Din (the court of justice). These pious
+Jews are distinguished by their scrupulous observance of the Sabbath as a
+day of rest. They will not even carry their handkerchief on the Sabbath day
+because it constitutes carrying a burden. That is forbidden, so they tie it
+round their waist as a girdle, where it becomes part of their clothing and
+so allowable. They will not carry an umbrella on the Sabbath, not only
+because it is a burden, but also because the putting up of an umbrella is
+considered equivalent to the erecting of a tent over the head. And they
+strictly obey the injunction which says neither thou nor thy servant shall
+do any manner of work on the Sabbath day. For what is absolutely necessary
+they employ an occasional servant, who is known as the "Shobbos Goy." They
+never give him a direct order for the performance of a household task, but
+they sometimes manage to evade the injunction. For instance, if it is
+bitterly cold and coals are wanted on the fire, they don't say, "Put more
+coals on." They shiver and rub their hands and say, "It is terribly cold."
+Then the Shobbos Goy takes the hint and makes the fire up.
+
+Let us linger for a moment among this strange group of devout Jews, few of
+whom can speak a word of English, though they are likely to pass the rest
+of their lives in our midst.
+
+The pious old man who is thumbing the book is displaying his Talmudic
+erudition to his hearers. The synagogue is open night and day, and this
+ante-room is always filled with reverent and intelligent loungers, who
+listen to the exposition of the Talmud and occasionally discuss the affairs
+of the moment, for the alien Jew has brought with him the old custom of
+making the synagogue a meeting-place and a club.
+
+In the same room a number of men are swaying to and fro and repeating their
+prayers in the Oriental fashion. Everywhere there is a note that is a
+revelation to the Gentile visitor who is privileged to look upon the scene.
+
+[Illustration: "IN THE SYNAGOGUE."]
+
+The privilege is not easily gained, for these pious Jews, most of them from
+the lands of persecution and massacre, are still nervous and fearful. They
+have not yet learned the true meaning of English freedom, and the Alien
+Commission is to them a warning note of some new disaster that threatens.
+
+Passing from the Talmud school into the synagogue itself, you are startled
+to find the Royal Arms of England, elaborately carved and coloured,
+standing out boldly on the walls.
+
+The mystery is solved when we learn that this was originally a Huguenot
+chapel, owned by the French refugees who settled in Spitalfields after the
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes. At one time the Huguenots were under
+special Royal favour, which may account for the display of the Royal Arms
+in their place of worship. The Jews acquired the building and converted it
+into a synagogue about ten years ago.
+
+The synagogue is only dimly lighted. Here and there a few worshippers are
+sitting in the pews repeating their prayers or reading a tattered volume.
+In one pew sits an old man writing by the aid of a tallow candle, which he
+has stuck on the little shelf in front of him. He is writing out one of the
+tiny scrolls which, encased in a capsule of tin or glass, forms the
+"Mezuzzah," the amulet which every orthodox Jew places on his doors; or
+perhaps the miniature manuscript is intended to be placed inside the
+"Tephillin"--that is, the phylacteries which are bound round the head and
+the left arm for the morning prayers. Remembering that the Mezuzzah and the
+Tephillin are direct Sinaitic ordinances, we look at the old man writing by
+the gleam of the candle in the gloomy synagogue with feelings of awe and
+reverence. Forty centuries ago the injunction was given in the far-off
+Eastern desert which the Hebrew exile is transcribing to-day in the heart
+of London.
+
+But, weird and mystic as the scene is, we do not care to linger. Already
+the uninvited presence of Christian strangers has attracted considerable
+attention, and the efforts of our artist to sketch unobserved have brought
+about us a number of the pious and aged aliens, who consult together in
+Yiddish and eventually put forward a spokesman, who, in broken English,
+politely asks us what we want.
+
+We make our explanation and assure the head of the little deputation that
+we have no evil intent, and then as quickly as is consistent with dignity
+we make our way through the Talmud room, the readers and expounders and the
+aged men rocking to and fro in prayer, and pass out into the darkness of
+the night. On the step an old man stands and looks after us. The pale light
+coming through the open door falls upon his face and shows a deep scar that
+looks like a sabre cut. The old man is one of the survivors of the massacre
+of Kischineff.
+
+And now we are back again in the big trading streets, with the yellow blaze
+of gas and lamp oil showing up the bright costumes of young Jewesses who
+are on their way to balls and parties and even to theatrical performances,
+which are frequent Sunday features of this foreign land which is in London
+but not of it.
+
+Every now and then through the packed streets dashes a carriage with a
+spanking pair of greys. Sunday is the day for weddings in the Ghetto. The
+white ribbon on the whip of the coachman catches the eye again and again,
+and always a little crowd turns to follow the vehicle and take up its
+station outside the Hall in which the marriage feast is being celebrated.
+These wedding carriages are to be seen making their way through the narrow
+streets in every direction. They are picking up the invited guests at their
+dwellings. As soon as one load has been deposited at the Hall, off the
+driver hurries in search of another.
+
+All is merriment within, and all is good temper and good order outside. The
+crowd blocks the pavement to listen and to make critical remarks on the
+toilettes of the guests as they arrive. One sharp turn out of the gay,
+crowded street and the scene is changed. Here everything is gloom, and in
+the gloom is a little group of slouching men and slatternly women loafing
+at the doors of dark, forbidding-looking houses.
+
+[Illustration: "LOAFING AT THE DOORS OF DARK, FORBIDDING-LOOKING HOUSES."]
+
+We are in a quarter that has been rendered notorious by the revelations of
+coroners' inquests. This is a little bit of the Ghetto that the Jews have
+not yet taken from the Christians. It is the street of common
+lodging-houses where strange murders have been done. We pass quickly by the
+group of loafing tramps who have come out of the lodging-house kitchens to
+gossip, and make our way up a narrow, tortuous passage to another street of
+evil fame, where lodging-houses of the lowest class still remain. Battered
+wrecks of lost humanity, male and female, flit to and fro in the darkness.
+A woman pauses under the solitary lamp and we see that her face is bruised
+and her eyes are blackened. The door of one lodging-house stands ajar and
+the English tongue salutes our ears once more. It is not a welcome relief,
+for the sentiment of the words is foul and blasphemous. At the top of the
+court one comes again upon good buildings and light and a sound of childish
+merriment. A number of little Jewish children are dancing a dance of their
+own in the lamplight.
+
+[Illustration: "A NUMBER OF LITTLE JEWISH CHILDREN ARE DANCING."]
+
+We pass out into a broad main thoroughfare, and still the shops are open
+and doing a brisk business. Here is a little restaurant with its bill of
+fare in Hebrew characters. We push the door ajar and enter, for we know
+that it was once the haunt of the Bessarabians, the formidable gang who had
+a standing vendetta with the Odessians, and who fought them not long ago
+outside the Yiddish theatre, the fray ending in a man being stabbed to
+death.
+
+The room we enter is lighted by a single jet of gas. There are only one or
+two young fellows sitting about and smoking cigarettes. The proprietor in
+his shirt sleeves stands behind the counter. At the end of the room is an
+opening covered with heavy curtains. Now and again a man enters, nods to
+the proprietor, and passes through them.
+
+We have ordered tea, for which we pay a penny a cup. The proprietor brings
+it himself, looks at us curiously, and I endeavour to allay his suspicion
+by speaking to him in German. He replies amiably, and I try to engage him
+in conversation. I ask him if the Bessarabians still use the house.
+
+His manner alters. He has heard of such people, but they never came to his
+establishment--never. I ask him if there is another restaurant beyond the
+curtain. Again he looks at me curiously.
+
+No, there is nothing beyond but his own dwelling rooms. I want to get
+behind those curtains; but I have not the password, and there is no chance.
+Some day I hope to be more fortunate. For this _cafe_ was the meeting-place
+of the Bessarabians, one of the most dangerous gangs in the East-end, and
+behind those curtains you passed to a room which was a gambling den. There
+the quarrel took place which led to midnight murder at the corner of the
+dark street.
+
+We walk quietly away and in five minutes we are back upon the beaten track.
+Everywhere are closed shops and the calm of the Christian Sunday night. The
+householders pass on their homeward way. The sweethearts linger for a while
+before they part at the door, or separate to go each a different way.
+
+And though they are within a few minutes' walk of the strange scenes we
+have looked upon by turning a little way off the beaten track, most of
+these people are as ignorant of their existence as was the great French
+critic who came for the first time to London and was taken to Piccadilly
+Circus, was told that it was the famous Whitechapel--and believed it.
+
+
+
+
+_Artists and Musicians._
+
+BY S. K. LUDOVIC.
+
+
+The following collection of pictures, in each of which the artist has
+depicted an event in the lives of the great musicians, can open with
+nothing more suitably than with the charming picture of "The Child Handel,"
+by Margaret Dicksee. Handel's father strongly opposed the child's
+passionate love for music, and the more his great gifts developed the more
+severely was he forbidden to occupy himself with music. The little boy was
+obliged to have recourse to subterfuge, and when his elders believed him
+snug in bed he used to steal on tip-toe to the lumber-room, where he had
+discovered an old spinet, on which he played softly to his heart's content,
+alone and fancy-free. In one of these moments of enjoyment, when the divine
+genius spoke to the child, he forgot himself and played louder and
+louder--all the sound of the old spinet streamed through the silent night,
+waking the sleepers in the house, who believed that the angels were keeping
+vigil over the old town of Halle. But little George's father bethought
+himself of the musical propensities of the boy, and, as the latter was not
+to be found in his bed, the lantern was lit and a search-party followed
+where the music led them. Alas! Poor George was found, severely
+reprimanded, and dismissed to bed. The picture brings the scene so vividly
+before our minds that we are glad to know the sequel. George was not to be
+suppressed. A short time afterwards his father went to Weissenfels, where,
+in consequence of the presence of the music-loving Prince, many concerts
+were to be held. Little George knew this, and, as his father would not let
+him go, he ran after the coach so long that his parent was compelled to
+take him in. The Prince heard of the extraordinary child-musician, and,
+thanks to his intercession, Handel's father at last gave permission that
+his son should be taught music.
+
+[Illustration: "THE CHILD HANDEL."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY MARGARET DICKSEE.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The next picture shows us Sebastian Bach, "the father of all music,"
+playing before Frederick the Great. The painter has chosen the moment when
+the King is giving Bach a theme on which to improvise. This theme, "a right
+royal one," as Bach called it, was afterwards worked out by him and sent
+back to the King, under the name of "A Musical Sacrifice." The King, who
+was himself a remarkable musician, had shown Bach the greatest
+appreciation, and this visit to Potsdam seems to have been one of the
+happiest events in Bach's life. Those who are inclined to regard Frederick,
+in his musical capacity, as no better than a _dilettante_ flute-player
+would do well to remember that he was among the first to recognise and to
+encourage the genius of one of the greatest musicians of all time. Yet
+Bach's greater works remained in manuscript, and it was left to musicians
+of a later period--especially to Mendelssohn--to unearth and make them
+known to the world at large.
+
+[Illustration: "FREDERICK THE GREAT AND SEBASTIAN BACH."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL ROeHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+Another of our master-musicians, Haydn, unlike Bach, who never left his
+country, came to England, and reached in this country the summit of his
+renown. In the picture on the next page we see him on board ship. Well
+wrapped in his great-coat he stands on deck and seems to enjoy the
+sea-breezes, unconscious of the curiosity of the other passengers. He is
+wondering what will await him in that strange country across the sea. Will
+they understand him and the message he has to deliver to them: harmonies
+so pure and simple from a heart so kindly and a will so strong? And they
+did understand him in England; a glorious season of success awaited him.
+Sympathy met him everywhere, and in such fulness that on returning home to
+Austria he stopped at the little village of his birth and, kneeling at the
+threshold of his father's humble cottage, he thanked God for all the
+happiness which he had known in England.
+
+[Illustration: "HAYDN CROSSING TO ENGLAND."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL ROeHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1902, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+In his wake followed another and a brighter star. When Haydn was at the
+zenith of his success all Germany began to talk of the little infant
+prodigy, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Our first Mozart picture shows him at the
+epoch of his life when he first fell in love. While on a visit to an uncle
+he met his fate in the shape of one of his youthful cousins, Aloysia Weber.
+The two sisters were pretty; the older, whom in the picture we see
+lingering in the other room, was full of kindness and sweet unselfishness,
+always putting forward the younger and more talented sister. Aloysia had a
+beautiful and well-trained voice, and could read a song at first sight.
+What was more natural than that the two young people who loved music should
+learn to love each other? Then came the parting hour. Mozart was compelled
+to go on one of his extensive tours. Two years passed by before he could
+return to his Aloysia. She had, of course, vowed everlasting love; but,
+alas for the faithlessness, the vanity of woman! Wolfgang came back,
+faithful and loving as he had left, to find that Aloysia had grown into a
+very beautiful girl, who had tasted the joys of celebrity as a singer.
+Success had turned her head and she had nothing to say to the young
+musician, who was only on the road to make his fame, and she threw away a
+treasure which she was too ignorant to prize.
+
+[Illustration: "MOZART AND ALOYSIA WEBER."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL ROeHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1902 by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+[Illustration: "MOZART AND BEETHOVEN."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY A. BORCKMANN.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.]
+
+In the next picture we see Mozart again when, at the height of his own
+fame, he listens to one who was destined to be greater even than
+himself--the young Beethoven. The young musician of sixteen asked him for a
+theme on which to improvise. Slowly the genius unfolded his wings; the
+simple theme seemed to grow to a mighty phrase, which was taken up by other
+voices as the harmony swelled under the fingers of the player who was
+destined to show the coming generations the power of music at its greatest.
+Mozart listened more and more attentively, his eyes fixed upon the young
+musician, his face wearing an almost reverential look under the spell of
+celestial inspiration, which came now like the rushing of a mighty wind.
+The music still went on. Beethoven had forgotten that he was not alone; but
+Mozart turned to his friends. "Listen!" he said. "And remember, of this
+young man the whole world will speak."
+
+Kaulbach, in his painting, "Mozart's Requiem," has immortalized the moment
+when fate cut short the life of Mozart. The fire of his genius, the
+never-ceasing, burning desire to embody the immortal inspirations which
+floated so richly in his brain, had "fretted the pigmy body to decay." Ill
+and depressed he was leaning back in his chair, when a stranger was
+announced, who asked him to compose a Requiem as full of dignity and beauty
+as his genius could conceive, a work which should be without an equal. He
+laid down a roll of a thousand ducats on Mozart's table and went away
+without disclosing his name, saying only that he would call again. Then the
+master collected his last strength, and a sublime effort resulted in the
+unique work, before which the world still stands in awe and reverence. He
+felt from the first moment that he was writing his own Requiem.
+
+The work was finished and now he wished to hear it. Too weak to stir from
+his room, he summoned his friends to perform the Requiem before him. They
+came and he listened, still and happy, to those mighty strains of sadness;
+and, so listening, his own soul flew to Heaven. This is the scene of
+Kaulbach's picture.
+
+[Illustration: "THE LAST HOUR OF MOZART."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY H. KAULBACH.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133 New Bond Street,
+London, W.]
+
+The well-known and well-beloved "Moonlight Sonata," whose power and beauty
+will delight for ages, is the subject of the very pretty story depicted on
+the next page. It is said that Beethoven passed, in the course of one of
+his rambling walks, a lonely street in the suburbs of Vienna, and heard
+from an open window the strains of his own music. The music came from a
+room on the ground floor, and when he approached he saw a young girl
+sitting at the piano and a child listening to her, huddled up on a chair
+near by. Impulsive as he was, he at once entered, saying, "I know that
+piece. What makes you play it? Does it please you?" "I love all Beethoven's
+compositions," said the young girl in a sweet, quiet voice, without
+showing any surprise at being thus interrupted by a stranger. But the child
+came quickly towards him, saying, "My sister is blind, and music is her
+only joy. What is it you want, sir?" With that peculiar directness which
+was so characteristic of his nature, he simply said, "I wish to play to
+you. I am Beethoven." Then the two girls settled themselves joyfully to
+listen. The moon had risen, the street was silent, the tears glistened in
+the blind eyes of the elder girl--and then came the wonderful mysterious
+song of that Adagio in C sharp minor, which rose and fell and soared again
+to Heaven. Such revelation of human feeling strained the nerves of these
+two young beings almost beyond endurance. A slight pause, and the graces of
+the Minuet played around them, soothed them, brushed the tears away, and
+spoke of life and youth and gladness. And then it sang on--another rushing
+storm--and melody after melody followed, and wildest outbreak of the
+Titan's own rugged nature, and then it cleared up into majestic
+strength--imposing chords of greatness--then silence. Beethoven turned and
+went as he had come, and long after he gave to the world what he saw and
+felt before these two lonely children.
+
+[Illustration: "THE MOONLIGHT SONATA."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY ERNST OPPLER.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1900, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+[Illustration: "BEETHOVEN AND GOETHE IN TEPLITZ."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL ROeHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1901, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The picture entitled "Beethoven and Goethe in Teplitz" illustrates an
+episode which shows Beethoven in the company of Germany's greatest poet,
+for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration. Beethoven's was a proud nature,
+and he sometimes showed his pride in a manner which had nothing in common
+with the smooth and polished manners of the aristocratic society in which
+he and Goethe were wont to move.
+
+Beethoven and Goethe met at Teplitz, a Bohemian watering-place much
+frequented by Royalties and aristocratic society. They were walking
+together, when the Emperor and Empress and their suite came towards them.
+Goethe, standing still, hat in hand, bowed almost to the ground, as it is
+customary on the Continent. Beethoven pressed his hat tighter on his head,
+let go Goethe's arm, and tried to elbow his way through the crowd; but the
+Empress had seen him and greeted him smilingly as she passed on, whilst
+Goethe received only the courtesy accorded to every unknown person. This is
+the moment shown us by the artist. The expression of surprise in the faces
+of the Royal visitors at Goethe's obsequious politeness, the indulgent
+smiles which follow the irate Beethoven, are very amusing.
+
+Franz Schubert is the creator of the German "Lied." He was the first who
+gave this kind of music a deeper meaning and a more elevated form, and,
+guided by his dramatic instinct, produced such masterpieces as the
+"Erlking" and the "Mueller-lieder." The singer is surprised to find most of
+these songs written in a very high key, and before somebody had taken the
+trouble to transpose them this was, even in Germany, a drawback to their
+popularity. The reason was as follows. One of Schubert's best friends was a
+very popular singer in Vienna, and his tenor voice was of an exceptional
+compass. Schubert wrote most of his songs for him. The painter has had the
+happy idea of giving us a portrait of this man in the act of singing, while
+Schubert himself is playing the accompaniment. The young lady who stands at
+the other side of the piano is probably the girl of whom Schubert said: "I
+loved once a girl, she was not beautiful--but, oh, so kind-hearted, good,
+and loving! And she sang my songs with a most beautiful soprano voice. We
+loved each other for three years, and we were happy. Then I had to give her
+up. I could never succeed in getting a post which would have enabled me to
+marry. I had no right to prevent her from marrying a man who could give her
+a home and make her happy." It is sad that a man whom we acknowledge as one
+of the greatest of musicians should be compelled to give up every thought
+of the happiness which comes to even the simplest worker in another field.
+
+[Illustration: "SCHUBERT AND HIS FRIENDS."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY CARL ROeHLING.
+
+By permission of the Berlin Photographic Company, 133, New Bond Street,
+London, W.
+
+_Copyright, 1903, by Photographische Gesellschaft._]
+
+The next painting illustrates a romantic episode of Schumann's life. In
+1836 Robena Laidlaw, though only sixteen, was Court pianist of the Queen of
+Hanover, and her fame had already spread over Germany, England, and Russia.
+She played his music for him, followed his inspirations, and rejoiced at
+the flights of his genius. They had tasted to the full the delight of
+understanding each other in the beautiful language of music.
+
+[Illustration: "SCHUMANN AND ROBENA LAIDLAW."
+
+FROM THE WATER-COLOUR DRAWING BY J. RAABE.]
+
+One day they were wandering in the Rosenau--the rose-gardens of Leipzig.
+The time of parting had come. His life and hers were unsettled and full of
+plans and ambitions. She was to start for Paris the next day, and to go
+from there to Russia to play before the Czar and the Imperial Court. Did
+they realize their own feelings at the moment, or know how much akin such
+friendship is to love?
+
+He arranged the cushions around her in the little boat upon the lake and
+bade her wait for him; he would bring her a rose as a parting gift. She had
+long to wait, and when he came at last he said, with that melancholy
+expression which, even in his younger years, was already his: "I searched
+so long and could after all only find a rose which is not worthy of you.
+But I will send you a remembrance of the Rosenau."
+
+[Illustration: ROBENA LAIDLAW.
+
+FROM A PAINTING.]
+
+Surfeited with the triumphs which fall naturally to the share of a great
+artiste and a beautiful girl, Robena found, on returning from a State
+concert at St. Petersburg, among many costly gifts of jewels and flowers
+which awaited her, a simple roll of music with the German postmark. It
+contained the twelve _Phantasiestuecke_ which are now reckoned among the
+most poetical and beautiful of Schumann's works. He wrote: "I have not
+asked, before sending them to the printer's, your permission to dedicate
+these pieces to you. They are yours, and I hope you will accept them. The
+whole Rosenau with all its romance is in them. Forget me not, and send me
+your portrait soon, as you promised."
+
+[Illustration: "WAGNER IN HIS HOME AT WAHNFRIED."
+
+FROM THE PICTURE BY W. BECKMANN.
+
+By permission of Rud. Ibach Soln, owners of the Original.]
+
+Wasielewski tells in his "Schumanniana" that he heard him once, shortly
+before his last illness, playing in the twilight, as he loved to do.
+Melodies full of tender beauty floated around; the exquisite piece "des
+Abends," the first of the _Phantasiestuecke_; then reminiscences of "des
+Nachts," wild and desperate, as if haunted by loneliness and terror; and
+then again the sweet and tender song of the evening's silent longing. The
+listener outside the door felt his heart nearly burst with emotion, but
+Schumann shut the piano immediately when the door was opened, and no
+allusion to what had passed was possible. Had he returned in this lonely
+moment to the memories of youth? Was it a last and loving greeting to the
+past?
+
+The great composer who gave so much to the world is long laid to rest in
+the cemetery of Bonn, and the waves of the Rhine sing his eternal
+slumber-song, but the _Phantasiestuecke_ will live on, and sing of the
+romance which was never told in words.
+
+Robena Laidlaw died only two years ago in London. Among the many souvenirs
+of this brilliant artiste's career was found a withered rose, and written
+by her on a leaflet: "Schumann gave me this rose at the Rosenau, 1836."
+
+Beckmann's picture represents the last of the epoch-making musicians,
+Richard Wagner. We see him discussing "Parsifal," his last and grandest
+work, with his wife and his two faithful friends, Liszt and Hans von
+Wolzogen. Wagner was then already living in his own beautiful home in
+Bayreuth, surrounded by the luxuries he so dearly loved, having as
+companion the woman who understood him best. His battle had been hard, but
+his ultimate conquest was decisive, and we may feel contented in the hope
+that culture is in our days so widespread and advanced that genius is but
+rarely exposed to pay with a life of misery for the halo of its greatness.
+
+
+
+
+The OWNER of the "PATRIARCH".
+
+By Morley Roberts.
+
+
+If anyone cares to look up the _Patriarch_ in Lloyd's List it will be
+discovered that the owner of her was T. Tyser, but it matters very little
+whether she was built of heavier plating than the rules required, or
+whether she was cemented or built under special survey or what not. For T.
+Tyser, otherwise Mr. Thomas Tyser, was not only the owner of the
+_Patriarch_, but also the owner of a dozen other vessels all beginning with
+a "P." He was, moreover, the owner of a large block of land in the heart of
+Melbourne; he had several streets, of which the biggest was Tyser Street,
+S.E., in London, and his banking account was certainly of heavier metal
+than he had any personal use for. He was a rough dog from the north
+country, and in the course of half a century's fight in London he came out
+top dog in his own line and was more or less of a millionaire.
+
+"And he's my uncle," said Geordie Potts; "his sister was my mother, and
+here I am before the stick in one of his old wind-jammers and gettin'
+two-pun-ten in this here _Patriarch_ of his, and hang me if I believe the
+old bloke has another relation in the world. It's hard lines, mates--it's
+hard lines. Don't you allow it's hard lines?"
+
+It was Sunday morning in the south-east trades, and every sail was drawing
+"like a bally droring-master," as Geordie once said, and the "crowd" of the
+_Patriarch_ were all fairly easy in their minds and ready for a discussion.
+
+"_If_ so be you are 'is nevvy, as you state," said the port watch,
+cautiously, "we allow it's hard lines."
+
+"I've stated it frequent," said Geordie, "and it's the truth, the whole
+truth, and nothin' but it, so help me. D'ye think I'd claim to be old
+Tyser's sister's son if I wasn't? I'd scorn to claim it."
+
+"Any man would scorn to be Tyser's sister's son," said the starboard watch.
+"He'd scorn to be 'im unless he was, for Tyser's a mean old dog, ain't he,
+Geordie?"
+
+Geordie thanked his watch-mates for backing him up so.
+
+"That's right, chaps. There's no meaner in the north of England--or the
+south, for that matter--and the way this ship's found is scandalous."
+
+"The grub's horrid," said both watches.
+
+"And look at the gear," said Geordie; "everything ready to part a deal
+easier than my uncle is. I never lays hold of a halliard but I'm thinking
+I'll go on my back if I pulls heavy. Oh, it's a fair scandal!"
+
+He considered the scandal soberly and with some sadness.
+
+"He might leave you some dibs, Geordie," suggested his mate, Jack Braby.
+"He might, after all."
+
+"Not a solitary dime," said Geordie. "Him and me quarrelled because my
+father fought him in the street, and I hit the old hunks with a bit of a
+brick because he got my dad down."
+
+"Wot was the row about?" asked the others, eagerly.
+
+"Nothin' to speak of," said Geordie. "My old man said he was a bloodsucker,
+and that led to words. And I never hurt him to speak of. And yet I've
+shipped in one of his ships, and am as poor as he's rich. He allowed none
+of us would get a farthing; he shouted it out in the market-place and said
+hospitals would get it, because one of his skippers that he'd sacked cut
+him up awful with a staysail hank, and they sewed him very neat at one of
+'em."
+
+"There's nothin' so good in a fight as a staysail 'ank," said Jack Braby,
+contemplatively. "I cut a policeman all to rags wiv one once."
+
+"Was that the time you done three months' 'ard?" asked the port watch.
+
+"Six," said Braby, proudly; "and I told the beak I could do it on my 'ead.
+But, Geordie, if you was owner yourself what would you do?"
+
+"Yes, wot?" asked the rest.
+
+Geordie shook his head and sighed.
+
+"I'd make my ships such that sailormen would be wantin' to pay to go in
+'em," said Geordie. "I've laid awake thinkin' of it."
+
+"Oh, tell us," said all hands, with as much unanimity as if they were
+tailing on to the halliards under the stimulus of "Give us some time to
+blow the man down." "Tell us, Geordie."
+
+"I'd be friends with all my men, for one thing," said Geordie, "and I'd not
+have a single Dutchman in a ship of mine."
+
+The three "Dutchmen" on board, one of whom was a Swede, another a German,
+and the third a Finn, shifted uneasily on their chests, but said nothing.
+
+"And not a Dago," continued the "owner," "and I'd give double wages and
+grog three times a day and tobacco thrown in. And the cook shouldn't be a
+hash-spoiler, but what Frenchies call a _chef_."
+
+"We never heard of that. How d'ye spell it, Geordie?"
+
+"S--H--E--double F," said Geordie; "and it means a man that is known not to
+spoil vittles, as most sea-cooks does, by the very look of him. And when it
+was wet or cold the galley fire should be alight all night. And the skipper
+and the mates should be told by me, and told very stern, that if they
+vallied their billets a continental they'd behave like gents and not cuss
+too much. And there shouldn't be no 'working up,' and any officer of mine
+that was dead on 'dry pulls' on the halliards should have the sack quick.
+And every time a ship of mine came into dock I'd be there, and I'd see what
+the crowd's opinion was of the skipper and the mates. Oh, I'd make my ship
+a Paradise, I would!"
+
+Most of the men nodded approval, but Braby wasn't quite satisfied.
+
+"And would there be grog every time of shortenin' sail, Geordie?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Geordie, "and every time you made sail too."
+
+But an old seaman shook his head.
+
+"'Tis mighty fine, mates, to 'ear Geordie guff as to what 'e'd do," he
+growled, "but I ain't young and I've seed men get rich, and they wasn't in
+the least what they allowed they'd be. Geordie 'ere is one of hus now, and
+'e feels where the shoe pinches; but if so be 'e got rotten with money 'e'd
+be for calling sailormen swine as like as not. And 'e'd wear a topper."
+
+"You're a liar; I wouldn't," roared Geordie.
+
+"Maybe I am a liar," said the old chap, "but I've seen what I've looked at.
+If you was to learn as your uncle was dead now, you'd go aft and set about
+on the poop and see hus doin' pulley-hauley, with a seegar in your teeth.
+Riches spoils a man, and it can't be helped; it 'as to, somehow. I've no
+fault to find with you now, Geordie Potts; for so young a man you're a good
+seaman and a good shipmate (though you _'ave_ called me a liar), but you
+take my word for it, money would make an 'og of you."
+
+And here was matter for high debate which lasted all through the trades,
+through the horse latitudes, and into the region of the brave west winds
+till the _Patriarch_ had made more than half her casting.
+
+"So I'm to be a mean swab and a real swine when I'm rich," said Geordie.
+"Oh, well, have it your own way. There's times some of you makes me feel
+I'd like to make you sit up."
+
+"'Ear, 'ear," said the old fo'c's'le man; "there's the very 'aughty
+richness workin' in his mind, shipmates. What'll the real thing do if 'is
+huncle pegs out sudden?"
+
+It was curious to note that a certain subdued hostility rose up between
+most of the men and Geordie. They sat apart and discussed him. Even Jack
+Braby threw out dark and melancholy hints that they wouldn't be chums any
+more if old Tyser's money came to his nephew. There were at times faint
+suggestions that Geordie was getting touched with his possible prosperity.
+
+"I'll live ashore and have a public-house," said Geordie Potts.
+
+And they picked up Cape Otway light in due time, and ran through Port
+Phillip Heads by-and-by, and came to an anchor off Sandridge. Presently
+they berthed alongside the pier and began to discharge their cargo; and one
+hot day went by like another, till they were empty and began to fill up
+again with wool. In six weeks they were almost ready for sea once more. And
+the very night before they hauled out from their berth and lay at anchor in
+the bay, Geordie went ashore at six o'clock "all by his lonesome," as he
+and Jack Braby had fought over the job which Braby was to get from his mate
+when old Tyser died intestate. And as he got to the end of the pier he met
+a young clerk from the agent's office who knew him by sight.
+
+"I say, I'm in a great hurry," said the boy; "my girl's waiting for me.
+Will you take these letters to Captain Smith, or I'll miss my train back?
+I'll give you a bob."
+
+"Righto!" said Geordie; and he pouched the shilling and the letters, and
+the young fellow ran for his train.
+
+[Illustration: "'JERUSH,' SAID GEORDIE, 'THIS CAN'T BE ME!'"]
+
+"The letters can wait," said Geordie Potts, "but the bob can't, and I've
+five more besides. Jack might have had his whack out of it if he hadn't
+wanted to be my manager when he ain't fit for it."
+
+He put the letters into his pocket and made his way to the Sandridge Arms,
+where he sat and drank by himself. It was seven o'clock, and he was by then
+tolerably "full," before it occurred to him to see if he still had the
+letters. He took them out, and the very first his eyes lighted on was one
+in a long envelope addressed to
+
+    "GEORGE POTTS, ESQ.,
+    c/o Captain Smith,
+    _Patriarch_."
+
+"Jerush," said Geordie, "this can't be me! 'Esq.' is what they puts after
+names of gents. Even the skipper don't have it after his."
+
+He fingered the long envelope and took another drink to consider the matter
+on.
+
+"Snakes! it must be me," he said, as he drew confidence out of his glass;
+"there's no other Potts but me."
+
+He was over-full by now, and he opened the letter and began to read it:--
+
+"MY DEAR SIR----"
+
+"By all that's living," said Geordie, "me 'my dear sir'!"
+
+He went on reading:--
+
+"MY DEAR SIR,--We regret to inform you of the sudden death of your uncle,
+Mr. Thomas Tyser, on the 10th instant. He left no will, and you, as the
+next of kin and heir-at-law, are entitled to all his real and personal
+estate, which is, as you are doubtless aware, very large. According to our
+present estimate it will amount to at least half a million sterling, and as
+we have been his legal advisers for the last twenty years and know all his
+affairs we can assure you that with proper management of certain
+undertakings at present in our hands, it may be much more than our
+estimate. In order that you may return at once we enclose you a draft on
+the Union Bank of Australia for two hundred pounds, and have instructed
+Captain Smith to give you your discharge, which he will, of course, do at
+once.
+
+"We hope, as we have been so long in the confidence of Mr. Tyser, that you
+will see no reason to complain of our care of your interests.
+
+                       "We are, my dear sir,
+
+                         "Your obedient servants,
+
+                           "THOMAS WIGGS AND CO."
+
+"My stars!" said Geordie. And he stared aghast at a square piece of paper,
+which he had reason to believe represented two hundred pounds. "My stars!
+what a pot o' money!"
+
+He gasped and took another drink.
+
+"I'm the owner of the _Patriarch_," he said, and grasping all the letters
+and his two-hundred-pound draft he rammed them down into the bottom of his
+inside breast-pocket. "I'm the owner of--hic--the--hic--_Patriarch_."
+
+He came out of his corner and went to the bar.
+
+"Gimme a drink--an expensive drink, one that'll cost five bob," he demanded
+of the barman.
+
+"You'd better have a bottle o' brandy," said the barman.
+
+"I wants the best."
+
+"This is Hennessy's forty star brandy," said the liar behind the bar.
+"There's no better in the world."
+
+And Geordie retreated with the bottle to his corner and took a long drink
+of a poisonous compound which contained as much insanity in it as a small
+lunatic asylum. He came back to the bar presently and told the barman that
+he was a millionaire.
+
+"I own half Newcastle and a lot of Bourke Street, Melbourne, and a baker's
+dozen of ships, and lumps of London!" said Geordie.
+
+"Lend me a thousand pounds till to-morrow," said the barman.
+
+"I like you--hic--I'll do it," said Geordie, and with that he fell headlong
+and forgot his wealth. They dragged him outside on the veranda and let him
+lie in the cool of the evening. He was picked up there two hours later by
+Jack Braby and some of the starboard watch and taken on board.
+
+"He let on he was a millionaire," said the barman, contemptuously.
+
+Braby shook his head.
+
+"Ah, he's liable to allow that when he's full, sir," said Braby.
+
+But that fatal bottle kept Geordie Potts wholly insensible till they were
+outside the Heads again and on their way to England, with the smoke of the
+tug-boat far astern. And presently the second mate, Mr. Brose, who was a
+very rough sort of dog, and had sweated his way up to his present exalted
+rank from that of a foremast hand, hauled Geordie out by the collar of his
+coat, and had him brought to by means of a bucketful of nice Bass's Straits
+water. Geordie gasped like a dying dolphin, but came to rapidly.
+
+"I'll teach you to get drunk, you swab," said Brose. "Take them wet things
+off and turn to."
+
+And Geordie obeyed like a child in the presence of _force majeure_.
+
+"Oh, I've got a head," he told his mates, "and it seems to me that I had a
+most extraordinary dream."
+
+"Wot did you dream of, old Cocklywax?" asked Braby; "did you dream you'd
+come in for old Tyser's money?"
+
+And Geordie gasped.
+
+"S'help me," he murmured. "S'help me, did I dream?"
+
+He dropped his marline-spike as if it were red hot and made a break for the
+fo'c's'le and his wet coat.
+
+"Now if so be I dreamed," he said, "there'll be naught in this pocket. And
+if I didn't, I'm jiggered."
+
+He put his hand in and brought out a handful of damp and crushed letters,
+and came out upon deck staggering. Mr. Brose saw him, and was on his tracks
+like a fish-hawk on a herring-gull. Geordie saw him coming and stood
+open-mouthed.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Geordie. "Oh, sir----"
+
+"Oh, rot," said Brose; "what's your little shenanakin game? Get to work, or
+I'll have you soused till you're half dead."
+
+But Geordie could explain nothing.
+
+"Oh, sir," he stammered, and held up his papers, shaking them feebly. And
+Brose shook him, anything but feebly, so that Geordie's teeth chattered.
+
+"If you please, sir," he cried out at last, "if you please, sir, don't. I
+owns her."
+
+"You owns wot?" demanded Brose; and the rest of the men edged as near as
+they dared.
+
+[Illustration: "BROSE SHOOK HIS MATE ONCE MORE."]
+
+"He's drunk still," said Braby, as Brose shook his mate once more.
+
+"I owns the bally _Patriarch_," screamed Geordie, "and all the rest of 'em,
+and all my uncle's richness, and I won't be shook, I won't!"
+
+And Brose let him go.
+
+"You're mad," said Brose, "you're mad."
+
+"I ain't," roared Geordie, who was fast recovering from the shock, "I
+ain't. Take these; read 'em--read 'em out; let the skipper read 'em. I owns
+the _Patriarch_ and the _Palermo_ and the _Proosian_ and the whole line.
+The lawyer says so!"
+
+He put the lot of damp letters into Mr. Brose's hands and sat down on the
+spare top-mast lashed under the rail.
+
+"There's letters for the captain 'ere," said Brose, suspiciously; "'ow did
+you get 'em?"
+
+"'Twas a youngster from the office give 'em me," replied Geordie, "and I
+took a drink first, and there was one for me, and it said so--said I was
+the owner, said it plain."
+
+And when Brose had read the opened letter he gasped too and went aft to see
+the skipper. The rest of the watch gathered round Geordie and spoke in
+awe-struck whispers.
+
+"Is it true, Geordie?"
+
+"Gospel," said Geordie. "It's swore to. They sends me two hundred quid in a
+paper."
+
+"Show us," said the starbowlines, "show us."
+
+"'Tis in the paper the second has," said Geordie. "It's wrote, 'Pay George
+Potts, Esq., two hundred quid on the nail.'"
+
+"I'd never 'ave let the second 'ave it," said Braby. "Like as not 'e'll
+keep it."
+
+"Then I'll sack him," said Geordie, firmly. "Let him dare try to keep it,
+and I'll sack him and not pay him no wages."
+
+"This is a very strange game, this is," said Braby. "I never 'eard tell of
+the likes. Did they put 'Esk' on your letter?"
+
+"They done so," said Geordie. "I've seen uncle's letters and they done so
+to him."
+
+"Then it must be true," said Braby. "They only puts 'Esk' on gents'
+letters."
+
+And Williams, the steward, was observed coming for'ard scratching his head.
+
+"Where the deuce am I?" asked Williams, "and wot's the game? I'm sent by
+the captain to say, 'Will Mr. Potts step into the cabin?'"
+
+They all looked at Geordie.
+
+"Mr. Potts? Why, that's you, Geordie."
+
+"I s'pose it must be," said the owner. "Must I go, mates?"
+
+"Of course," cried Braby.
+
+But Geordie fidgeted.
+
+"I could go in if we were painting of her cabin," he murmured; "but to talk
+with the skipper----"
+
+That evidently disgruntled him.
+
+"'Tis your own cabin any'ow," said Braby. "I'd walk in like a lord."
+
+"Well, I s'pose I must," said Geordie, reluctantly, and he went aft with
+Williams.
+
+"And you're the owner?" asked Williams.
+
+Geordie sighed.
+
+"So it seems, stooard," he admitted.
+
+"It licks creation," said Williams.
+
+"So it does," said Geordie, and the next moment he found himself announced
+as "Mr. Potts," and he stood before the captain with his cap in his hand,
+looking as if he was about to be put in irons for mutiny; but, as a matter
+of fact, the old skipper was a deal more nervous than he was.
+
+"This seems all correct, Mr. Potts," said Smith.
+
+"Does it, sir?" asked Geordie. "I'm very sorry, sir, but it ain't my fault,
+sir. I never meant--at least, I never allowed my uncle would do it, because
+my father, sir, said he was a bloodsucker, and they fought, and I hit uncle
+with a brick, sir, to make him let go of father's beard."
+
+"Oh, yes, to be sure," said the captain, nervously, "but I'm thinking what
+to do. It's a very anomalous situation for you to be here, Potts--Mr.
+Potts, I mean."
+
+But Geordie held up his hand.
+
+"I'd _much_ rather be Potts, sir, thanking you all the same."
+
+"I couldn't do it," replied the skipper. "I was thinking that you might
+like me to put back to Melbourne?"
+
+"Wot for, sir?" demanded the owner.
+
+"So that you could go home in a P. and O. boat," said old Smith.
+
+"Thanking you kindly, sir," replied Geordie, "I'd rather stay in the
+_Patriarch_. I don't like steamers and never did."
+
+He had a vague notion that the skipper wanted him to go home before the
+mast in one.
+
+"Then you wish me not to put back, Mr. Potts?" said Smith.
+
+"I'd very much rather not, sir," replied Geordie. "I'm very happy here,
+sir, and takin' it all round the _Patriarch's_ a comfortable ship, sir. May
+I go for'ard now, sir?"
+
+He made a step for the cabin door.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said old Smith, "you mustn't; you must have a berth
+here and be a passenger."
+
+The skipper's obvious nervousness was not without its effect upon the new
+owner. For old Smith knew that if he lost his present billet he was not
+likely to find another one, and he had nothing saved to speak of. So
+somehow, and without knowing why, Geordie, without being in the least
+disrespectful, was more decided in his answer than he would have been if
+the "old man" had showed himself as hard and severe as usual.
+
+"Not me," said Geordie, "not me, sir; I wouldn't and I couldn't. I'd be
+that uncomfortable--oh, a passenger, good evings, no!"
+
+"But bein' owner you _can't_ stay for'ard," urged the skipper.
+
+"Oh, yes, I can, sir," said Geordie; "I'd prefer it."
+
+Smith sighed.
+
+"If you prefer it, of course you must. But if you change your mind you'll
+let me know."
+
+"Right--I will, sir," said Geordie.
+
+The skipper walked with him to the cabin door.
+
+"And if you don't want to work, Mr. Potts, I dare say we can get on without
+your services, though we shall miss them," he said, anxiously.
+
+"I couldn't lie about and do nix," replied Geordie. "I'd die of it."
+
+And away he went for'ard, while the skipper and Mr. Brose and Mr. Ware,
+waked out of his watch below to hear the extraordinary news, discussed the
+situation.
+
+"And 'ave I to call 'im Mr. Potts?" asked Brose, with a pathetic air of
+disgust.
+
+"I say so," replied the skipper. "I can't afford, Brose, as you know, to
+lose this job. And old Tyser promised me a kind of marine superintendent's
+billet when I left the _Patriarch_, and I dessay this young chap will act
+decent about it."
+
+"I'm fair knocked," replied Ware. "I'm jolly glad that he ain't in my
+watch. This is hard lines on you, Brose."
+
+"If you please, Mr. Potts, will you be so good has to be so kind has to be
+so hobliging as to go and over'aul the gear on the main," piped Brose, in
+furious mockery, "Oh, this is 'ard!"
+
+"Far from it," said old Smith; "you ought to be proud. It ain't every
+second mate has a millionaire owner in his watch."
+
+But Brose was sullen.
+
+"You mark me, this josser won't do no 'and's turn that 'e don't like."
+
+And for'ard the crowd said the same. As a result, for at least ten days
+Geordie Potts worked very well indeed. But, of course, Brose, under the
+skipper's orders, gave him all the soft jobs that were going. The second
+mate got into a mode of exaggerated courtesy which was almost painful.
+
+"Be so good, Mr. Potts, as to put a nice, neat Matthew Walker on this 'ere
+lanyard."
+
+Or--
+
+"Mr. Potts, please be kind enough to go aloft and stop that spilling line
+to the jack-stay."
+
+And at meal times the port watch mimicked Brose.
+
+"Dear Mr. Potts, howner, be so good as to heat this 'orrid 'ash without
+growling."
+
+And presently, when the weather began to get cold and the men brought out
+their Cape Horn pea-jackets and their mitts, Geordie commenced to growl a
+little.
+
+[Illustration: "'IF YOU DON'T WANT TO WORK, MR. POTTS, I DARESAY WE CAN GET
+ON WITHOUT YOUR SERVICES,' HE SAID."]
+
+"I hates turnin' out in the gravy-eye watch worse and worse," he said.
+"I've half a mind to let on I'm sick."
+
+"You'd better go haft and tell the old man to 'ave the galley fire kep'
+alight all night," said the crowd, crossly. "But you dasn't."
+
+"I dast," said Geordie; "why, I owns the bally galley!"
+
+"You dasn't!"
+
+"I will," said Geordie. And next morning he went aft and touched his cap to
+the skipper and begged to be allowed to speak to him.
+
+"The galley fire at night?" said Smith. "Oh, certainly, Mr. Potts. I never
+done it because it was against the horders of your late revered huncle,
+sir."
+
+"He was as mean as mean," said Geordie; "I think I can afford the fire,
+sir."
+
+The fire was lighted and the crowd said Geordie was the right sort.
+
+"And wot about the gear, Mr. Howner?" asked Jack Braby. "If I was you,
+before it gets too rotten cold I'd 'ave a real over'aulin' of things."
+
+"I'll think of it," said Geordie. And that very afternoon he tackled Brose.
+
+"The gear's tolerable rotten, sir," he began. And the second greaser knew
+he was right and yet didn't like to say so. He yearned to curse him. "And
+I'm thinkin'," said Geordie, "it would be a good thing to get up new stuff
+and overhaul everything. I risks my life every time I goes aloft. The very
+reef earings would part if a schoolgirl yanked at 'em."
+
+"You'd better speak to Mr. Ware," said Brose, choking.
+
+And at eight bells Geordie spoke to the chief officer, who was quite as
+anxious as the skipper to keep his billet.
+
+"It shall be done, Mr. Potts," said Ware.
+
+In the first watch that night Geordie felt very tired, and said so. When it
+was eight bells in the middle watch he was still asleep, or pretended to
+be.
+
+"Rouse out, howner," said Braby, and he shook Geordie up.
+
+"I feels tolerable ill," said Geordie; "I don't think I shall turn out."
+
+He didn't, and the rest of the port watch went on deck by themselves. At
+the muster Mr. Potts didn't answer to his name.
+
+"Mr. Potts is hill, sir," said the obsequious watch; "'e said 'e couldn't
+turn out."
+
+"I thought it would come soon," said Brose to himself. And he went for'ard
+to the fo'c's'le.
+
+"Are you _very_ ill?" he asked, drily.
+
+"I don't know quite how I feel," said the owner, "but I thinks a little
+drop of brandy would do me good."
+
+"I wish I could poison it," said Brose, under his voice. "This is most
+'umiliatin' to a man in the persition of an officer."
+
+By noon Geordie was well enough to sit on deck and smoke a pipe. The "old
+man" came to see him.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a berth aft now, Mr. Potts?" urged the skipper.
+
+"I'll think about it, captain," said Geordie. "And in the meantime I don't
+think I'll turn to."
+
+The skipper turned to Brose.
+
+"We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?"
+
+"Certingly," said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great
+Pacific.
+
+From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his
+trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do
+that no longer.
+
+"If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage, I'll double your
+wages," he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning
+Geordie went to the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather
+poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency such a thing is next
+door to gross insubordination at sea.
+
+"I ain't goin' to take no more wheels," said Geordie. "And Braby will take
+mine. I've doubled his wages."
+
+Even old Smith gasped. As for Brose, he felt sea-sick for the first time
+since he first went down Channel in an outward-bounder thirty years before.
+
+"I'll make a note of it," said the skipper.
+
+They shortened sail in a quick flurry of a gale out of the south-west later
+in the day, and as all the topsails were down on the cap at once it was
+"jump," and no mistake. As an act of kindly condescension the owner went to
+the wheel and shoved away the Dutchman there, who was congratulating
+himself on not being on a topsail yard.
+
+"Get aloft, you Dutch swab," said Geordie; "I'll take her for you."
+
+And Mr. Ware bellowed like a bull, for he had a fine foretopsail voice, and
+when it was a real breeze his language rose with the seas and was fine and
+flowery, vigorous and ornamental, and magnificent. While he was in the
+middle of a peroration which would have excited envy in Cicero, or Burke,
+or a barrister with no case, he heard the owner shouting; for a private
+interview with the steward had given Geordie great confidence.
+
+"Mr. Ware, Mr. Ware, I'd be glad if you'd cuss the men less. I don't like
+it."
+
+The chief officer collapsed as if he were a balloon with a hole in it. And
+for the next minute he and the skipper engaged in an excited conversation.
+
+"I can't--can't stand it," said Ware.
+
+"You must," said old Smith, almost tearfully.
+
+And Ware did stand it. But when the _Patriarch_ was shortened down and he
+left the deck, he went below and swore very horribly for five minutes by
+any chronometer.
+
+"Now I know what Brose feels," said Ware. "I've a great sympathy for poor
+Brose."
+
+The owner ordered a tot for all hands when they came down from aloft. And
+he called the cook aft and harangued him from the break of the poop.
+
+"Now, Mr. Spoil-Grub, mind you cook better than you've been doin', or I'll
+have you ducked in a tub and set your mate to do your work."
+
+He turned to the skipper with a beaming smile in his blue eyes.
+
+"I can talk straight, can't I, cap?" he hiccoughed, blandly. "I'm thinkin'
+I'll lie down in the cabin."
+
+And when the old man went below he found Geordie dossing in his own sacred
+bunk. The poor old chap went and sat in the cabin and put his head on his
+hands.
+
+"This is a most horrid experience," he said, mournfully. "I don't like
+howners on board--I don't like 'em a bit."
+
+But it was not only the after-guard who suffered. Geordie shifted his
+dunnage aft at last, and though when he was sober he left the skipper's
+berth, he made himself very comfortable in the steward's. And he loafed
+about all day on deck with his pipe in his mouth. He began to look at the
+men with alien eyes.
+
+"I tell you they're loafin'," said he to Ware. "Don't I know 'em? They
+watches you like cats, and when your eyes are off 'em they do nothin'. I'm
+payin' 'em to work and I'm payin' you to make 'em. There's a leak
+somewhere."
+
+And he addressed the crowd from the poop.
+
+"You're a lazy lot," he said, "that's wot you are. For two pins I'd put out
+the galley fire, and I'd cut off your afternoon watch below."
+
+And next day he raised their wages. A week later he cut them down again.
+The skipper had a hard job to keep track of what the ship owed them.
+
+"I wish we was home," groaned old Smith. "Oh, he'll be a terror of an
+owner!"
+
+"I'll murder him," said Brose.
+
+"Wot did I tell you chaps about the 'orrid effecs of sudden richness on a
+man?" asked the old fo'c's'le man for'ard. "Geordie Potts was a good sort,
+but Mr. George Potts, Esquire, is an 'oly terror. 'E raises hus hup and
+cuts hus down like grass."
+
+And it presently came about that the only time they had any peace was when
+Geordie was very much intoxicated. But when they got into the calms of
+Capricorn on the home stretch to the north he developed a taste for
+gambling and made the old skipper sit up all night playing "brag" for huge
+sums of money.
+
+"I lends you the dibs, and, win or lose, it's all hunky for you," said
+Geordie. He made out orders to pay the "old man" several thousand pounds,
+and Smith began to feel rich. Then Geordie raked Ware into the game. At
+last even Brose succumbed to the lure of "I promises to pay Mr. Brose five
+hundred on the nail," and joined the gamble.
+
+"This is a dash comfortable ship," said Geordie. "What's a few thousand to
+me? I don't mind losin'. Stooard, bring rum."
+
+[Illustration: "HE ADDRESSED THE CROWD FROM THE POOP."]
+
+By the time they picked up the north-east trades poor old Smith owed the
+"owner" ten thousand pounds. Ware was five thousand to the good, and Brose,
+who had played poker in California, was worth fifteen thousand in strange
+paper. He began to dream of a row of houses with a public-house at each
+end. He and Geordie grew quite thick and compared public-house ideals.
+
+"I'm goin' to buy a hotel," said Geordie; "there's one in Trafalgar
+Square, London, as I've in my mind. I'll fit up the bar till it fair blazes
+with golden bottles."
+
+He borrowed the mate's clothes and had a roaring time, and then they came
+into the Channel and picked up a tug, and went round the Foreland into
+London river.
+
+"I'll bet lawyers and so on will be down to meet me," said Geordie.
+"They'll be full up with gold. To think of it! And to think I hit my poor
+old uncle with a brick!"
+
+He mourned over his brutality.
+
+"He wasn't half a bad chap," he said, "and I don't see what call my dad had
+to call him a bloodsucker after all."
+
+They docked in the South-West Dock, and sure enough they had not been
+alongside their berth five minutes before old Tyser's usual London agent
+and a very legal-looking person came on board.
+
+"Let me introduce you to the new owner," said the obsequious skipper, as he
+led up Geordie, who had a smile on him large enough to cut a mainsail out
+of.
+
+"Oh," said the lawyer, "then this is Mr. Potts?"
+
+"That's me," said Geordie. "Have you brought any money with you? I owes Mr.
+Ware five thousand and Mr. Brose fifteen."
+
+The lawyer smiled.
+
+"I'm afraid there's some mistake, Mr. Potts. Your uncle left a will after
+all."
+
+[Illustration: "I'M AFRAID THERE'S SOME MISTAKE, MR. POTTS."]
+
+Geordie's jaw dropped and so did Ware's. But Brose's fell as falls the
+barometer in the centre of a cyclone.
+
+"And me--did he leave me nothin'?" roared Geordie.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the solicitor. "Mr. Gray, will you kindly give me that
+cash-box you are carrying?"
+
+And the agent handed him the cash-box. "He left you this," said the lawyer.
+"And in this sealed envelope is the key."
+
+Geordie grabbed the box eagerly.
+
+"It's heavy," he said, "it's tolerable heavy."
+
+And putting it on the rail he opened it with the key.
+
+There was half a brick in it.
+
+
+
+
+_Detectives at School._
+
+M. BERTILLON'S NEW METHOD OF DESCRIPTIVE PORTRAITS.
+
+BY ALDER ANDERSON.
+
+
+[Illustration: DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LECTURE ON THE METHOD OF
+IDENTIFICATION BY NOSES.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The painter and the writer, the world has been assured repeatedly by the
+very highest authorities, can never encroach very far on each other's
+domains. Whereas a picture conveys the same idea to every beholder, so far
+at least as the outward aspect of the personages represented is concerned,
+a mere description can only give such vague and hazy outlines that the
+ideas of no two readers need ever be identical. How is it that no critic
+has ever suggested that this apparent inferiority of literature might,
+perhaps, simply be lack of science on the part of the author? Such,
+however, would appear to be the logical deduction to be drawn from the
+innovation which M. Bertillon, after ten years' persistent efforts, has
+recently succeeded in getting officially adopted by the Paris Detective
+Police.
+
+M. Bertillon has proved that the appearance of any individual may be
+expressed in terms so clear, precise, and unequivocal that identically the
+same image is evoked in the mind of everybody who hears or reads the
+description. With nothing else but such a description to guide him in his
+search, anybody of normal intelligence is able, after a few lessons from
+the inventor of the system, to unerringly pick out the person indicated
+from a crowd, however great, and in an incredibly short time. The new
+method materially adds to the efficacy of the anthropometrical system of
+identification, with which the name of Bertillon, the inventor of the
+"thumb-prints" method, is inseparably connected. A brief outline of that
+system may here be given.
+
+The variety of Nature is infinite; she never repeats herself. No two leaves
+are ever precisely alike, much less two human beings. A superficial
+observer may fancy that two individuals resemble each other in a remarkable
+manner. Let him examine them more attentively; he will find that they
+differ radically in almost every detail. The farther he carries his
+examination the more numerous and the more conspicuous will the differences
+appear, until at last he may almost experience a difficulty in discovering
+any trace of the resemblance that before seemed so striking. This is a
+_resume_ of some of the principal axioms at the base of M. Bertillon's
+teaching.
+
+Every person, then, who for one reason or another comes within the power of
+the law in France and in some other countries is photographed and measured
+in prevision of his transgressing on some future occasion.
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL, TAKEN IN PROFILE AND
+FULL FACE.]
+
+[Illustration: THIS IS THE SAME CRIMINAL, WHO WAS IDENTIFIED BY A DETECTIVE
+AND ARRESTED ON THE EVIDENCE OF HIS EARS.]
+
+The complete description and measurements are transferred to a piece of
+thin cardboard, on which are also pasted two photographs of the
+subject--one full face, the other in profile, both reduced to one-seventh
+of life size. This is termed the prisoner's "fiche," which is now put away
+for future reference. Every year about twelve thousand "fiches" are thus
+added to the collection in Paris. In ten years this means one hundred and
+twenty thousand; in twenty years nearly a quarter of a million.
+
+Let us assume now that a crime has been committed. All the evidence tends
+to prove that the culprit is none other than a certain man who passed
+through M. Bertillon's hands some years ago. His "fiche" is taken out, and
+copies of the photograph on it are distributed in the usual quarters. This
+old photograph is the only guide the police have by which to identify the
+fugitive. In the interval that has elapsed since it was taken, however, the
+man's outward appearance may have so completely changed that he might now
+walk under the very nose of the cleverest detectives in Europe, trained in
+the old school, without being recognised. Just such a case occurred quite
+recently in Paris, and was specially taken in hand by one of the most
+experienced men the "Surete" possessed at the time, but without result. Six
+months later a comparatively inexperienced detective arrested the criminal,
+who was on the point of embarking for America. Trained by M. Bertillon's
+new method to concentrate his attention exclusively on features which
+hardly ever vary, and to neglect entirely such accidental details as the
+fashion of wearing the hair and beard and the apparel, he had at once
+recognised the person he was in search of by the characteristic shape of
+ears and nose. This case is given in the accompanying photographs.
+
+The contrary case to the foregoing instance--that is to say, the arrest of
+an innocent man, on the ground that he resembled a photograph in the
+detective's possession--used to be an all too frequent occurrence. Not even
+the very keenest of the law's sleuthhounds were able to avoid such
+mistakes. A good example is shown in the photographs next reproduced.
+Innumerable instances, too, are recorded of people claiming, as that of a
+brother, a husband, or a son who had disappeared, a body which, had they
+but been M. Bertillon's pupils for an hour, they could never by any
+possibility have confounded with their missing relative. So persuaded have
+women often been of the accuracy of their own judgment that there have been
+cases in which they have at first indignantly repudiated the husband or son
+who subsequently reappears on the scene in flesh and blood and seeks to
+prove that he is not dead after all.
+
+A detective is now taught that he must use the photograph he is supplied
+with merely as a check, to make assurance doubly sure, before he ventures
+on an arrest. What he must principally rely upon is the visual portrait he
+can evoke in his own imagination, a portrait which, he is told, is only
+valuable so far as he is able to describe it in words. That which we cannot
+clearly describe we cannot clearly conceive, is the pith of M. Bertillon's
+teaching. The pupil is, consequently, made to analyze each feature of the
+photograph separately, and express the result in certain conventional
+formulae that convey a definite meaning to his own mind and to the mind of
+everybody else who has studied the same method. He makes, in fact, "a
+portrait in words."
+
+The feature that presents the greatest diversity of form and size is the
+ear, and, strangely enough, the ear is precisely a feature which we hardly
+ever consciously look at. It has been reserved for M. Bertillon to point
+out how admirably it is adapted for the purpose of establishing a person's
+identity. The size of the ear, the relative proportions to one another of
+the folds, its contour, the surface and shape of the lobe, the manner the
+lobe is attached to the cheek, and the inclination of the bottom interior
+ridge known as the antitragus differ most materially in every individual.
+Let a modern French detective describe an ear as "Deq. cav. vex. tra. sep";
+all his colleagues are immediately able to form a mental image of the
+description of ear he means.
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE THE PORTRAITS OF A CRIMINAL.]
+
+[Illustration: THESE ARE PORTRAITS OF AN INNOCENT MAN WHO WAS ARRESTED BY
+AN UNTRAINED DETECTIVE AS BEING THE SAME MAN, BUT HIS EARS ALONE WERE
+SUFFICIENT TO ACQUIT HIM.]
+
+Similarly for the nose, of which three main varieties are recognised,
+according as the line of the back is concave, rectilinear, or convex. Each
+of these three principal classes is divided into three divisions according
+to the direction of the base line--ascending, horizontal, or descending.
+The degree of concavity or convexity of the line of the nose, as well as
+the degree in which the base line descends or mounts, is indicated in very
+simple fashion by putting the term denoting the form into brackets or
+underlining it. Thus a moderately concave-backed nose is expressed by the
+abbreviation "cav."; if the concavity is very slightly marked by (cav.);
+and, if very accentuated, by _cav._ Noses of which the line is very sinuous
+or arched are denoted by the abbreviations "s" and "a." A nose described as
+_cav._ (s) would have a very strongly-marked concavity and be slightly
+sinuous, whereas (cav.) _s_ would denote a nose but slightly concave, but
+with a very sinuous outline. The form of the root of the nose is also
+indicated in similar fashion to the back and base. So much for the shape of
+the nose. Its dimensions relatively to the face, its width, length, and
+degree of projection, are also indicated, for it is evident that size is
+quite independent of shape.
+
+The degree of inclination of the forehead is another feature that is noted,
+as well as the general aspect of the complexion, colour of hair and eyes,
+and anything about the face that is in the least abnormal.
+
+The entire course of instruction in "word-portraits" extends over thirty
+lessons of two hours each. At the end of the course an examination is held,
+in which the pupil must acquit himself honourably in the practical tests
+imposed upon him, if he wishes to obtain the coveted certificate, without
+which he can now hope for no promotion. Several hundred persons are
+assembled; with the exception of a few privileged strangers, almost all are
+connected directly or indirectly with the various services of the police
+administration. M. Bertillon or his principal lieutenant, M. Payen, hands a
+slip of paper to the candidate, containing some such brief indications as
+the following: "R--cav. (deq.) cav. x 1.62. O. 1878." "Pick out the person
+to whom this refers," adds the examiner. In an incredibly short space of
+time one of the audience finds himself "under arrest." The figures 1.62, it
+may be said, denote the person's height; "O" stands for orange-coloured
+eyes; and 1878 denotes, approximately, the year of birth--that is, that he
+is now about twenty-six years of age.
+
+[Illustration: DIFFERENT TYPES OF EARS FROM THE CLASSIFICATION-BOOK.]
+
+We have the authority of our cleverest modern humorist for the statement
+that the burglar and the cut-throat like a little innocent amusement
+occasionally; what wonder, then, if the austere detective does also? His
+chiefs, therefore, thoughtfully turn these examinations into occasions of
+grave merry-making by giving one or other of the examinees a descriptive
+portrait of some high functionary, perhaps of the Prefect of Police
+himself, should he be present. The fledgeling is thus placed in a dilemma;
+he must either display his incompetence or do violence to all his notions
+of respect for the official hierarchy, and put a disrespectful hand on one
+of the few shoulders in the world that he has looked upon as sacred. The
+manner in which the luckless wight acquits himself of his invidious task
+forms the theme of many a conversation in the "highest detective circles"
+of the French capital for the next week or so.
+
+M. Bertillon has recently compiled an album containing about fifteen
+hundred photographs of the most notorious French criminals, classified
+exclusively by the shape of their ears and noses and their height. The man
+whose portrait figures in this blackest of black books has, at any rate,
+the satisfaction of knowing that his physiognomy will not disappear from
+the world without leaving some memories behind it.
+
+Other black books contain portraits of foreigners of different
+nationalities. The writer was allowed to peep into that relating to
+"English and American" malefactors who are at loggerheads with the Paris
+Prefecture of Police, and was patriotically pleased to find that their
+total number--five hundred--is only one-fifth that of the Belgians. A very
+large proportion, too, of these _soi-disant_ English and American citizens,
+if their names are any criterion, might be Russians, Danes, Turks, or
+Prussians, but are certainly not Englishmen. Anglo-Saxondom may flatter
+herself that, in so far as France is concerned, she is a most exemplary
+race.
+
+When the practice of portraits in words becomes generalized, as will no
+doubt very soon be the case, members of all those professions at which the
+laws of most countries persist in looking askance will have but a sorry
+time, if, indeed, they are able to subsist at all. Within the space of an
+hour or two telegraph and telephone will have carried a brief but
+unmistakable word-portrait of them to every corner of the civilized world
+if necessary. In large towns like London and Paris, twenty thousand pairs
+of trained eyes, covering the entire area of the city, can be set
+simultaneously on the search for the fugitive murderer or burglar, who will
+discover that the old methods of disguise are of but little use to him. A
+rumour that certain London banks contemplated having all their _employes_
+measured and photographed on M. Bertillon's system caused a considerable
+amount of murmuring recently, the measure being considered as somewhat
+derogatory by the clerks. By this extension of the method, however, their
+portraits can be taken without their knowledge, since neither camera nor
+measuring rule is necessary. Absconding cashiers will, in future, therefore
+have to be remarkably circumspect in their choice of foreign residence.
+Impostors like the claimant to the Tichborne estates, whose trial convulsed
+the Anglo-Saxon world over thirty years ago, will be given short shrift. It
+may be remarked, however, that one of the principal points brought forward
+at the trial to prove that the Claimant was not the man he pretended to be
+was precisely that the lobe of his ear was quite differently formed to the
+lobe of the real Roger Tichborne. This only proves once more the old adage
+that under the sun there is nothing new.
+
+[Illustration: DETECTIVES RECEIVING A LESSON ON EARS.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+The writer would here express his thanks to M. Lepine, the Prefect of
+Police, and M. Bertillon for their extreme courtesy in acceding to his
+request to be allowed to attend the course of lessons, and also for
+permission to use the photographs now reproduced.
+
+
+
+
+DIALSTONE LANE[A]
+
+BY W. W. JACOBS
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Mr. Chalk made but a poor breakfast next morning, the effort to display a
+feeling of proper sympathy with Mrs. Chalk, who was presiding in gloomy
+silence at the coffee-pot, and at the same time to maintain an air of
+cheerful innocence as to the cause of her behaviour, being almost beyond
+his powers. He chipped his egg with a painstaking attempt to avoid noise,
+and swallowed each mouthful with a feeble pretence of not knowing that she
+was watching him as he ate. Her glance conveyed a scornful reproach that he
+could eat at all in such circumstances, and, that there might be no mistake
+as to her own feelings, she ostentatiously pushed the toast-rack and
+egg-stand away from her.
+
+"You--you're not eating, my dear," said Mr. Chalk.
+
+"If I ate anything it would choke me," was the reply.
+
+Mr. Chalk affected surprise, but his voice quavered. To cover his
+discomfiture he passed his cup up for more coffee, shivering despite
+himself, as he noticed the elaborate care which Mrs. Chalk displayed in
+rinsing out the cup and filling it to the very brim. Beyond raising her
+eyes to the ceiling when he took another piece of toast, she made no sign.
+
+"You're not looking yourself," ventured Mr. Chalk, after a time.
+
+His wife received the information in scornful silence.
+
+"I've noticed it for some time," said the thoughtful husband, making
+another effort. "It's worried me."
+
+"I'm not getting younger, I know," assented Mrs. Chalk. "But if you think
+that that's any excuse for your goings on, you're mistaken."
+
+Mr. Chalk murmured something to effect that he did not understand her.
+
+"You understand well enough," was the reply. "When that girl came whistling
+over the fence last night you said you thought it was a bird."
+
+"I did," said Mr. Chalk, hastily taking a spoonful of egg.
+
+Mrs. Chalk's face flamed. "What sort of bird?" she demanded.
+
+"Singin' bird," replied her husband, with nervous glibness.
+
+Mrs. Chalk left the room.
+
+Mr. Chalk finished his breakfast with an effort, and then, moving to the
+window, lit his pipe and sat for some time in moody thought. A little
+natural curiosity as to the identity of the fair whistler would, however,
+not be denied, and the names of Binchester's fairest daughters passed in
+review before him. Almost unconsciously he got up and surveyed himself in
+the glass.
+
+"There's no accounting for tastes," he said to himself, in modest
+explanation.
+
+His mind still dwelt on the subject as he stood in the hall later on in the
+morning, brushing his hat, preparatory to taking his usual walk. Mrs.
+Chalk, upstairs listening, thought that he would never have finished, and
+drew her own conclusions.
+
+With the air of a man whose time hangs upon his hands Mr. Chalk sauntered
+slowly through the narrow by-ways of Binchester. He read all the notices
+pasted on the door of the Town Hall and bought some stamps at the
+post-office, but the morning dragged slowly, and he bent his steps at last
+in the direction of Tredgold's office, in the faint hope of a little
+conversation.
+
+To his surprise, Mr. Tredgold senior was in an unusually affable mood. He
+pushed his papers aside at once, and, motioning his visitor to a chair,
+greeted him with much heartiness.
+
+"Just the man I wanted to see," he said, cheerfully. "I want you to come
+round to my place at eight o'clock to-night. I've just seen Stobell, and
+he's coming too."
+
+"I will if I can," said Mr. Chalk.
+
+"You must come," said the other, seriously. "It's business."
+
+"Business!" said Mr. Chalk. "I don't see----"
+
+"You will to-night," said Mr. Tredgold, with a mysterious smile. "I've sent
+Edward off to town on business, and we sha'n't be interrupted. Good-bye.
+I'm busy."
+
+He shook hands with his visitor and led him to the door; Chalk, after a
+vain attempt to obtain particulars, walked slowly home.
+
+Despite his curiosity it was nearly half-past eight when he arrived at Mr.
+Tredgold's that evening, and was admitted by his host. The latter, with a
+somewhat trite remark about the virtues of punctuality, led the way
+upstairs and threw open the door of his study.
+
+"Here he is," he announced.
+
+A slender figure sitting bolt upright in a large grandfather-chair turned
+at their entrance, and revealed to the astonished Mr. Chalk the expressive
+features of Miss Selina Vickers; facing her at the opposite side of the
+room Mr. Stobell, palpably ruffled, eyed her balefully.
+
+"This is a new client of mine," said Tredgold, indicating Miss Vickers.
+
+Mr. Chalk said "Good evening."
+
+"I tried to get a word with you last night," said Miss Vickers. "I was down
+at the bottom of your garden whistling for over ten minutes as hard as I
+could whistle. I wonder you didn't hear me."
+
+"_Hear_ you!" cried Mr. Chalk, guiltily conscious of a feeling of
+disappointment quite beyond his control. "What do you mean by coming and
+whistling for me, eh? What do you mean by it?"
+
+"I wanted to see you private," said Miss Vickers, calmly, "but it's just as
+well. I went and saw Mr. Tredgold this morning instead."
+
+"On a matter of business," said Mr. Tredgold, looking at her. "She came to
+me, as one of the ordinary public, about some--ha--land she's interested
+in."
+
+"An island," corroborated Miss Vickers.
+
+[Illustration: "'THIS IS A NEW CLIENT OF MINE,' SAID TREDGOLD."]
+
+Mr. Chalk took a chair and looked round in amazement. "What, another?" he
+said, faintly.
+
+Mr. Tredgold coughed. "My client is not a rich woman," he began.
+
+"Chalk knows that," interrupted Mr. Stobell. "The airs and graces that girl
+will give herself if you go on like that----"
+
+"But she has some property there which she is anxious to obtain," continued
+Mr. Tredgold, with a warning glance at the speaker. "That being so----"
+
+"Make him wish he may die first," interposed Miss Vickers, briskly.
+
+"Yes, yes; that's all right," said Tredgold, meeting Mr. Chalk's startled
+gaze.
+
+"It will be when he's done it," retorted the determined Miss Vickers.
+
+"It's a secret," explained Mr. Tredgold, addressing his staring friend.
+"And you must swear to keep it if it's told you. That's what she means.
+I've had to and so has Stobell."
+
+A fierce grunt from Mr. Stobell, who was still suffering from the
+remembrance of an indignity against which he had protested in vain, came as
+confirmation. Then the marvelling Mr. Chalk rose, and instructed by Miss
+Vickers took an oath, the efficacy of which consisted in a fervent hope
+that he might die if he broke it.
+
+"But what's it all about?" he inquired, plaintively.
+
+Mr. Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment's
+hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk.
+With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers's Island,
+which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake. It was impossible to
+mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was promptly
+frustrated by the owner.
+
+"But Captain Bowers said that he had burnt it," he cried.
+
+Mr. Tredgold eyed him coldly. "Burnt what?" he inquired.
+
+"The map," was the reply.
+
+"Just so," said Tredgold. "You told me he had burnt a map."
+
+"Is this another, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"P'r'aps," said Miss Vickers, briefly.
+
+"As the captain said he had burnt his, this _must_ be another," said
+Tredgold.
+
+"Didn't he burn it, then?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"I should be sorry to disbelieve Captain Bowers," said Tredgold.
+
+"Couldn't be done," said the brooding Stobell, "not if you tried."
+
+Mr. Chalk sat still and eyed them in perplexity.
+
+"There is no doubt that this map refers to the same treasure as the one
+Captain Bowers had," said Tredgold, with the air of one making a generous
+admission. "My client has not volunteered any statement as to how it came
+into her possession----"
+
+"And she's not going to," put in Miss Vickers, dispassionately.
+
+"It is enough for me that we have got it," resumed Mr. Tredgold. "Now, we
+want you to join us in fitting out a ship and recovering the treasure.
+Equal expenses; equal shares."
+
+"What about Captain Bowers?" inquired Mr. Chalk.
+
+"He is to have an equal share without any of the expense," said Tredgold.
+"You know he gave us permission to find it if we could, so we are not
+injuring anybody."
+
+"He told us to go and find it, if you remember," said Stobell, "and we're
+going to."
+
+"He'll have a fortune handed to him without any trouble or being
+responsible in any way," said Tredgold, impressively. "I should like to
+think there was somebody working to put a fortune like that into my lap. We
+shall have a fifth each."
+
+"That'll be five--thousand--pounds for you, Selina," said Mr. Stobell, with
+a would-be benevolent smile.
+
+Miss Vickers turned a composed little face upon him and languidly closed
+one eye.
+
+"I had two prizes for arithmetic when I was at school," she remarked; "and
+don't you call me Selina, unless you want to be called Bobbie."
+
+A sharp exclamation from Mr. Tredgold stopped all but the first three words
+of Mr. Stobell's retort, but he said the rest under his breath with
+considerable relish.
+
+"Don't mind him," said Miss Vickers. "I'm half sorry I let him join, now. A
+man that used to work for him once told me that he was only half a
+gentleman, but he'd never seen that half."
+
+Mr. Stobell, afraid to trust himself, got up and leaned out of the window.
+
+"Well, we're all agreed, then," said Tredgold, looking round.
+
+"Half a second," said Miss Vickers. "Before I part with this map you've all
+got to sign a paper promising me my proper share, and to give me twenty
+pounds down."
+
+Mr. Tredgold hesitated and looked serious. Mr. Chalk, somewhat dazed by the
+events of the evening, blinked at him solemnly. Mr. Stobell withdrew his
+head from the window and spoke.
+
+"TWENTY--POUNDS!" he growled.
+
+"Twenty pounds," repeated Miss Vickers, "or four hundred shillings, if you
+like it better. If you wait a moment I'll make it pennies."
+
+She leaned back in her chair and, screwing her eyes tight, began the
+calculation. "Twelve noughts are nought," she said, in a gabbling whisper;
+"twelve noughts are nought, twelve fours are forty----"
+
+"All right," said Mr. Tredgold, who had been regarding this performance
+with astonished disapproval. "You shall have the twenty pounds, but there
+is no necessity for us to sign any paper."
+
+"No, there's no necessity," said Miss Vickers, opening her small, sharp
+eyes again, "only, if you don't do it, I'll find somebody that will."
+
+[Illustration: "MR. TREDGOLD PREPARED TO DRAW UP THE REQUIRED AGREEMENT."]
+
+Mr. Tredgold argued with her, but in vain; Mr. Chalk, taking up the
+argument and expanding it, fared no better; and Mr. Stobell, opening his
+mouth to contribute his mite, was quelled before he could get a word out.
+
+"Them's my terms," said Miss Vickers; "take 'em or leave 'em, just as you
+please. I give you five minutes by the clock to make up your minds; Mr.
+Stobell can have six, because thinking takes him longer. And if you agree
+to do what's right--and I'm letting you off easy--Mr. Tredgold is to keep
+the map and never to let it go out of his sight for a single instant."
+
+She put her head round the side of the chair to make a note of the time,
+and then, sitting upright with her arms folded, awaited their decision.
+Before the time was up the terms were accepted, and Mr. Tredgold, drawing
+his chair to the table, prepared to draw up the required agreement.
+
+He composed several, but none which seemed to give general satisfaction. At
+the seventh attempt, however, he produced an agreement which, alluding in
+vague terms to a treasure quest in the Southern Seas on the strength of a
+map provided by Miss Vickers, promised one-fifth of the sum recovered to
+that lady, and was considered to meet the exigencies of the case. Miss
+Vickers herself, without being enthusiastic, said that she supposed it
+would have to do.
+
+Another copy was avoided, but only with great difficulty, owing to her
+criticism of Mr. Stobell's signature. It took the united and verbose
+efforts of Messrs. Chalk and Tredgold to assure her that it was in his
+usual style, and rather a good signature for him than otherwise. Miss
+Vickers, viewing it with her head on one side, asked whether he couldn't
+make his mark instead; a question which Mr. Stobell, at the pressing
+instance of his friends, left unanswered. Then Tredgold left the room to
+pay a visit to his safe, and, the other two gentlemen turning out their
+pockets, the required sum was made up, and with the agreement handed to
+Miss Vickers in exchange for the map.
+
+She bade them good-night, and then, opening the door, paused with her hand
+on the knob and stood irresolute.
+
+"I hope I've done right," she said, somewhat nervously. "It was no good to
+anybody laying idle and being wasted. I haven't stolen anything."
+
+"No, no," said Tredgold, hastily.
+
+"It seems ridiculous for all that money to be wasted," continued Miss
+Vickers, musingly. "It doesn't belong to anybody, so nobody can be hurt by
+our taking it, and we can do a lot of good with it, if we like. I shall
+give some of mine away to the poor. We all will. I'll have it put in this
+paper."
+
+She fumbled in her bodice for the document, and walked towards them.
+
+"We can't alter it now," said Mr. Tredgold, decidedly.
+
+"We'll do what's right," said Mr. Chalk, reassuringly.
+
+Miss Vickers smiled at him. "Yes, I know _you_ will," she said, graciously,
+"and I think Mr. Tredgold will, but----"
+
+"You're leaving that door open," said Mr. Stobell, coldly, "and the
+draught's blowing my head off, pretty near."
+
+Miss Vickers eyed him scornfully, but in the absence of a crushing reply
+disdained one at all. She contented herself instead by going outside and
+closing the door after her with a sharpness which stirred every hair on his
+head.
+
+"It's a most extraordinary thing," said Mr. Chalk, as the three bent
+exultingly over the map. "I could ha' sworn to this map in a court of
+justice."
+
+"Don't you worry your head about it," advised Mr. Stobell.
+
+"You've got your way at last," said Tredgold, with some severity. "We're
+going for a cruise with you, and here you are raising objections."
+
+"Not objections," remonstrated the other; "and, talking about the voyage,
+what about Mrs. Chalk? She'll want to come."
+
+"So will Mrs. Stobell," said that lady's proprietor, "but she won't."
+
+"She mustn't hear of it till the last moment," said Tredgold,
+dictatorially; "the quieter we keep the whole thing the better. You're not
+to divulge a word of the cruise to anybody. When it does leak out it must
+be understood we are just going for a little pleasure jaunt. Mind, you've
+sworn to keep the whole affair secret."
+
+Mr. Chalk screwed up his features in anxious perplexity, but made no
+comment.
+
+"The weather's fine," continued Tredgold, "and there's nothing gained by
+delay. On Wednesday we'll take the train to Biddlecombe and have a look
+round. My idea is to buy a small, stout sailing-craft second-hand; ship a
+crew ostensibly for a pleasure trip, and sail as soon as possible."
+
+Mr. Chalk's face brightened. "And we'll take some beads, and guns, and
+looking-glasses, and trade with the natives in the different islands we
+pass," he said, cheerfully. "We may as well see something of the world
+while we're about it."
+
+Mr. Tredgold smiled indulgently and said they would see. Messrs. Stobell
+and Chalk, after a final glance at the map and a final perusal of the
+instructions at the back, took their departure.
+
+"It's like a dream," said the latter gentleman, as they walked down the
+High Street.
+
+"That Vickers girl ud like more dreams o' the same sort," said Mr. Stobell,
+as he thrust his hand in his empty pocket.
+
+"It's all very well for you," continued Mr. Chalk, uneasily. "But my wife
+is sure to insist upon coming."
+
+Mr. Stobell sniffed. "I've got a wife too," he remarked.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Chalk, in a burst of unwonted frankness, "but it ain't
+quite the same thing. I've got a wife and Mrs. Stobell has got a
+husband--that's the difference."
+
+Mr. Stobell pondered this remark for the rest of the way home. He came to
+the conclusion that the events of the evening had made Mr. Chalk a little
+light-headed.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Until he stood on the platform on Wednesday morning with his brother
+adventurers Mr. Chalk passed the time in a state of nervous excitement,
+which only tended to confirm his wife in her suspicions of his behaviour.
+Without any preliminaries he would burst out suddenly into snatches of
+sea-songs, the "Bay of Biscay" being an especial favourite, until Mrs.
+Chalk thought fit to observe that, "if the thunder did roar like that she
+should not be afraid of it." Ever sensitive to a fault, Mr. Chalk fell back
+upon "Tom Bowling," which he thought free from openings of that sort, until
+Mrs. Chalk, after commenting upon the inability of the late Mr. Bowling to
+hear the tempest's howling, indulged in idle speculations as to what he
+would have thought of Mr. Chalk's. Tredgold and Stobell bought papers on
+the station, but Mr. Chalk was in too exalted a mood for reading. The
+bustle and life as the train became due were admirably attuned to his
+feelings, and when the train drew up and they embarked, to the clatter of
+milk-cans and the rumbling of trolleys, he was beaming with satisfaction.
+
+"I feel that I can smell the sea already," he remarked.
+
+Mr. Stobell put down his paper and sniffed; then he resumed it again and,
+meeting Mr. Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than
+before.
+
+"Have you told Edward that you are going to sea?" inquired Mr. Chalk,
+leaning over to Tredgold.
+
+[Illustration: "'FINE DAY, GENTLEMEN,' SAID THE STRANGER, AS HE RAISED HIS
+GLASS."]
+
+"Certainly not," was the reply; "I don't want anybody to know till the last
+possible moment. You haven't given your wife any hint as to why you are
+going to Biddlecombe to-day, have you?"
+
+Mr. Chalk shook his head. "I told her that you had got business there, and
+that I was going with you just for the outing," he said. "What she'll say
+when she finds out----"
+
+His imagination failed him and, a prey to forebodings, he tried to divert
+his mind by looking out of window. His countenance cleared as they neared
+Biddlecombe, and, the line running for some distance by the side of the
+river, he amused himself by gazing at various small craft left high and dry
+by the tide.
+
+A short walk from the station brought them to the mouth of the river which
+constitutes the harbour of Biddlecombe. For a small port there was a goodly
+array of shipping, and Mr. Chalk's pulse beat faster as his gaze wandered
+impartially from a stately barque in all the pride of fresh paint to dingy,
+sea-worn ketches and tiny yachts.
+
+Uncertain how to commence operations, they walked thoughtfully up and down
+the quay. If any of the craft were for sale there was nothing to announce
+the fact, and the various suggestions which Mr. Chalk threw off from time
+to time as to the course they should pursue were hardly noticed.
+
+"One o'clock," said Mr. Stobell, extracting a huge silver timepiece from
+his pocket, after a couple of wasted hours.
+
+"Let's have something to eat before we do any more," said Mr. Tredgold.
+"After that we'll ferry over and look at the other side."
+
+They made their way to the King of Hanover, an old inn, perched on the side
+of the harbour, and, mounting the stairs, entered the coffee-room, where
+Mr. Stobell, after hesitating for some time between the rival claims of
+roast beef and grilled chops, solved the difficulty by ordering both.
+
+The only other occupant of the room, a short, wiry man, with a
+close-shaven, hard-bitten face, sat smoking, with a glass of whisky before
+him, in a bay window at the end of the room, which looked out on the
+harbour. There was a maritime flavour about him which at once enlisted Mr.
+Chalk's sympathies and made him overlook the small, steely-grey eyes and
+large and somewhat brutal mouth.
+
+"Fine day, gentlemen," said the stranger, nodding affably to Mr. Chalk as
+he raised his glass.
+
+Mr. Chalk assented, and began a somewhat minute discussion upon the
+weather, which lasted until the waiter appeared with the lunch.
+
+"Bring me another drop o' whisky, George," said the stranger, as the latter
+was about to leave the room, "and a little stronger, d'ye hear? A man might
+drink this and still be in the Band of Hope."
+
+"We thought it wouldn't do for you to get the chuck out of it after all
+these years, Cap'n Brisket," said George, calmly. "It's a whisky that's
+kept special for teetotalers like you."
+
+Captain Brisket gave a hoarse laugh and winked at Mr. Stobell; that
+gentleman, merely pausing to empty his mouth and drink half a glass of
+beer, winked back.
+
+"Been here before, sir?" inquired the captain.
+
+Mr. Stobell, who was busy again, left the reply to Mr. Chalk.
+
+"Several times," said the latter. "I'm very fond of the sea."
+
+Captain Brisket nodded, and, taking up his glass, moved to the end of their
+table, with the air of a man disposed to conversation.
+
+"There's not much doing in Biddlecombe nowadays," he remarked, shaking his
+head. "Trade ain't what it used to be; ships are more than half their time
+looking for freights. And even when they get them they're hardly worth
+having."
+
+Mr. Chalk started and, leaning over, whispered to Mr. Tredgold.
+
+"No harm in it," said the latter. "Better leave it to me. Shipping's dull,
+then?" he inquired, turning to Captain Brisket.
+
+"Dull?" was the reply. "Dull ain't no name for it."
+
+Mr. Tredgold played with a salt-spoon and frowned thoughtfully.
+
+"We've been looking round for a ship this morning," he said, slowly.
+
+"As passengers?" inquired the captain, staring.
+
+"As owners," put in Mr. Chalk.
+
+Captain Brisket, greatly interested, drew first his glass and then his
+chair a yard nearer. "Do you mean that you want to buy one?" he inquired.
+
+"Well, we might if we could get one cheap," admitted Tredgold, cautiously.
+"We had some sort of an idea of a cruise to the South Pacific; pleasure,
+with perhaps a little trading mixed up with it. I suppose some of these old
+schooners can be picked up for the price of an old song?"
+
+The captain, grating his chair along the floor, came nearer still; so near
+that Mr. Stobell instinctively put out his right elbow.
+
+"You've met just the right man," said Captain Brisket, with a boisterous
+laugh. "I know a schooner, two hundred and forty tons, that is just the
+identical article you're looking for, good as new and sound as a bell. Are
+you going to sail her yourself?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Stobell, without looking up, "he ain't."
+
+"Got a master?" demanded Captain Brisket, with growing excitement. "Don't
+tell me you've got a master."
+
+"Why not?" growled Mr. Stobell, who, having by this time arrived at the
+cheese, felt that he had more leisure for conversation.
+
+"Because," shouted the other, hitting the table a thump with his fist that
+upset half his whisky--"because if you haven't Bill Brisket's your man."
+
+The three gentlemen received this startling intelligence with such a lack
+of enthusiasm that Captain Brisket was fain to cover what in any other man
+might have been regarded as confusion by ringing the bell for George and
+inquiring with great sternness of manner why he had not brought him a full
+glass.
+
+"We can't do things in five minutes," said Mr. Tredgold, after a long and
+somewhat trying pause. "First of all we've got to get a ship."
+
+"The craft you want is over the other side of the harbour waiting for you,"
+said the captain, confidently. "We'll ferry over now if you like, or, if
+you prefer to go by yourselves, do; Bill Brisket is not the man to stand in
+anyone's way, whether he gets anything out of it or not."
+
+"Hold hard," said Mr. Stobell, putting up his hand.
+
+Captain Brisket regarded him with a beaming smile; Mr. Stobell's two
+friends waited patiently.
+
+"What ud a schooner like that fetch?" inquired Mr. Stobell.
+
+"It all depends," said Brisket. "Of course, if I buy--"
+
+Mr. Stobell held up his hand again. "All depends whether you buy it for us
+or sell it for the man it belongs to, I s'pose?" he said, slowly.
+
+Captain Brisket jumped up, and to Mr. Chalk's horror smote the speaker
+heavily on the back. Mr. Stobell, clenching a fist the size of a leg of
+mutton, pushed his chair back and prepared to rise.
+
+"You're a trump," said Captain Brisket, in tones of unmistakable respect,
+"that's what you are. Lord, if I'd got the head for business you have I
+should be a man of fortune by now."
+
+Mr. Stobell, who had half risen, sat down again, and, for the first time
+since his last contract but one, a smile played lightly about the corners
+of his mouth. He took another drink and, shaking his head slightly as he
+put the glass down, smiled again with the air of a man who has been
+reproached for making a pun.
+
+"Let me do it for you," said Captain Brisket, impressively. "I'll tell you
+where to go without being seen in the matter or letting old Todd know that
+I'm in it. Ask him a price and bate him down; when you've got his lowest,
+come to me and give me one pound in every ten I save you."
+
+Mr. Tredgold looked at his friends. "If we do that," he said, turning to
+the captain, "it would be to your interest to buy the ship in any case. How
+are we to be sure she is seaworthy?"
+
+"Ah, there you are!" said Brisket, with an expansive smile. "You let me buy
+for you and promise me the master's berth, provided you are satisfied with
+my credentials. Common sense'll tell you I wouldn't risk my own carcass in
+a rotten ship."
+
+Mr. Stobell nodded approval and, Captain Brisket with unexpected delicacy
+withdrawing to the window and becoming interested in the harbour, conferred
+for some time with his friends. The captain's offer being accepted, subject
+to certain conditions, they settled their bill and made their way to the
+ferry.
+
+"There's the schooner," said the captain, pointing, as they neared the
+opposite shore; "the _Fair Emily_, and the place she is lying at is called
+Todd's Wharf. Ask for Mr. Todd, or, better still, walk straight on to the
+wharf and have a look at her. The old man'll see you fast enough."
+
+He sprang nimbly ashore as the boat's head touched the stairs, and after
+extending a hand to Mr. Chalk, which was coldly ignored, led the way up the
+steps to the quay.
+
+"There's the wharf just along there," he said, pointing up the road. "I'll
+wait for you at the Jack Ashore here. Don't offer him too much to begin
+with."
+
+"I thought of offering a hundred pounds," said Mr. Tredgold. "If the ship's
+sound we can't be very much out over that sum."
+
+Captain Brisket stared at him. "No; don't do that," he said, recovering,
+and speaking with great gravity. "Offer him seventy. Good luck."
+
+He watched them up the road and then, with a mysterious grin, turned into
+the Jack Ashore, and taking a seat in the bar waited patiently for their
+return.
+
+Half an hour passed. The captain had smoked one pipe and was half through
+another. He glanced at the clock over the bar and fidgeted as an unpleasant
+idea that the bargain, despite Mr. Tredgold's ideas as to the value of
+schooners, might have been completed without his assistance occurred to
+him. He took a sip from his glass, and then his face softened as the faint
+sounds of a distant uproar broke upon his ear.
+
+"What's that?" said a customer.
+
+[Illustration: "HIS THREE PATRONS, WITH A HOPELESS ATTEMPT TO APPEAR
+UNCONCERNED, WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD."]
+
+The landlord, who was glancing at the paper, put it down and listened.
+"Sounds like old Todd at it again," he said, coming round to the front of
+the bar.
+
+The noise came closer. "It _is_ old Todd," said another customer, and
+hastily finishing his beer moved with the others to the door. Captain
+Brisket, with a fine air of indifference, lounged after them, and peering
+over their shoulders obtained a good view of the approaching disturbance.
+
+His three patrons, with a hopeless attempt to appear unconcerned, were
+coming down the road, while close behind a respectable-looking old
+gentleman with a long, white beard and a voice like a fog-horn almost
+danced with excitement. They quickened their pace as they neared the inn,
+and Mr. Chalk, throwing appearances to the winds, almost dived through the
+group at the door. He was at once followed by Mr. Tredgold, but Mr.
+Stobell, black with wrath, paused in the doorway.
+
+"FETCH 'EM OUT," vociferated the old gentleman as the landlord barred the
+doorway with his arms. "Fetch that red-whiskered one out and I'll eat him."
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Todd?" inquired the landlord, with a glance at his
+friends. "What's he done?"
+
+"_Done?_" repeated the excitable Mr. Todd. "Done? They come walking on to
+my wharf as if the place----FETCH HIM OUT," he bawled, breaking off
+suddenly. "Fetch him out and I'll skin him alive."
+
+Captain Brisket took Mr. Stobell by the cuff and after a slight altercation
+drew him inside.
+
+"Tell that red-whiskered man to come outside," bawled Mr. Todd. "What's he
+afraid of?"
+
+"What have you been doing to him?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to the
+pallid Mr. Chalk.
+
+"Nothing," was the reply.
+
+"Is he coming out?" demanded the terrible voice, "or have I got to wait
+here all night? Why don't he come outside, and I'll break every bone in his
+body."
+
+Mr. Stobell scratched his head in gloomy perplexity: then, as his gaze fell
+upon the smiling countenances of Mr. Todd's fellow-townsmen, his face
+cleared.
+
+"He's an old man," he said, slowly, "but if any of you would like to step
+outside with me for five minutes, you've only got to say the word, you
+know."
+
+Nobody manifesting any signs of accepting this offer, he turned away and
+took a seat by the side of the indignant Tredgold. Mr. Todd, after a final
+outburst, began to feel exhausted, and forsaking his prey with much
+reluctance allowed himself to be led away. Snatches of a strong and copious
+benediction, only partly mellowed by distance, fell upon the ears of the
+listeners.
+
+"Did you offer him the seventy?" inquired Captain Brisket, turning to Mr.
+Tredgold.
+
+"_I_ did," said Mr. Chalk, plaintively.
+
+"Ah," said the captain, regarding him thoughtfully; "perhaps you ought to
+ha' made it eighty. He's asking eight hundred for it, I understand."
+
+Mr. Tredgold turned sharply. "Eight hundred?" he gasped.
+
+The captain nodded, "And I'm not saying it's not worth it," he said, "but I
+might be able to get it for you for six. You'd better leave it to me now."
+
+Mr. Tredgold at first said he would have nothing more to do with it, but
+under the softening influence of a pipe and a glass was induced to
+reconsider his decision. Captain Brisket, waving farewells from the quay as
+they embarked on the ferry-boat later on in the afternoon, bore in his
+pocket the cards of all three gentlemen, together with a commission
+entrusting him with the preliminary negotiations for the purchase of the
+_Fair Emily_.
+
+[Illustration: "CAPTAIN BRISKET WAVING FAREWELLS FROM THE QUAY AS THEY
+EMBARKED."]
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by W. W. Jacobs, in the United States of America.
+
+
+
+
+The ATLANTIC RIVER
+
+BY JULIAN DRAKE.
+
+     [In April of last year the steamer _Miosen_, from
+     Christiania, sailed from New Orleans. Owing to a
+     damaged tail-shaft off Key West she practically drifted
+     from the Straits of Florida to the Faeroee Islands. From
+     the captain's notes the following account of the Gulf
+     Stream voyage is transcribed.]
+
+
+What is the greatest river in the world? Naturally every Kindergarten pupil
+would instantly respond by naming the Mississippi, with the Amazon a good
+second. But that is because they are deceived by geographers jealous of the
+prerogative of the land. Hydrographers--as, for example, Sir John Murray,
+K.C.B.--would return a different answer, and it is clear that hydrographers
+ought to know something about water.
+
+The greatest river in the world, then, begins in the vicinity of Key West,
+Florida. There is on the globe no such stupendous flow of waters. It defies
+the severest droughts; in the mightiest floods it never overflows. Its
+current sweeps onward more rapidly than the Mississippi or the Amazon and
+its volume is a thousand times greater. Let us rid our mind of the idea of
+land. The banks and the bottom of this stupendous river are of cold, whilst
+its current is of warm, water. The name of it is the Gulf Stream. It might
+properly be called the Atlantic River. Doubtless many hundreds, even
+thousands, of craft have made the voyage down this river from its source to
+its mouth, and the trip of the _Miosen_, of Christiania, Norway, is only
+remarkable in this: that she virtually drifted the whole distance, four
+thousand two hundred and twelve miles. The _Miosen_ is a Norwegian steamer
+of one thousand two hundred and eighty tons, and carried a cargo of
+molasses, rice, and tobacco from New Orleans to Christiania.
+
+After leaving New Orleans early in April, 1903, she encountered roughish
+weather in the Gulf of Mexico. But it was not until they had passed the
+Tortugas group that Captain Westrup suspected that there was anything
+radically wrong with the machinery. The _Miosen_ was fitted with
+old-fashioned Glasgow engines, and carried a sail in case of emergency. At
+Key West she put in for four days to see if the engineer could patch up the
+propeller sufficiently to enable the vessel to cross the Atlantic. "It was
+at Key West," said Captain Westrup, "I met an old fellow-mariner, a Swede.
+
+"'Going down the river?' he asked.
+
+"I laughed, not understanding the joke.
+
+"'No; I'm crossing the Atlantic,' I replied.
+
+"I then told him about the fractured propeller.
+
+"'Take my advice,' he said, 'and go by the river route. Like as not you'll
+drift the whole way, and if you're in no hurry you can give your engines a
+rest. A single sheet to the wind will do your job.'
+
+"It was the first time I had heard the expression 'river' as applied to
+the Gulf Stream. The idea entertained me. I already began to regard my
+forthcoming trip as a mere jaunt down a river, and with this in my head I
+took pains to note everything of interest connected with this stupendous
+stream. And here let me say that two leagues to the south-east of Key West
+the Gulf mariners point to a buoy labelled in prominent letters 'F. C.,'
+which stands for Florida Channel. It marks the end of the Gulf of Mexico
+and the beginning of the Atlantic River."
+
+[Illustration: THE BUOY IN FLORIDA CHANNEL.]
+
+The machinery of the _Miosen_ was patched up by the 5th April, and on the
+following morning the crew had hoisted her solitary sail and departed from
+Key West. All along south of the Florida reef they had constant glimpses of
+tarpon, devil-fish, and barracuda, the mightiest fish in the Gulf Stream.
+For it must be understood that whales and sharks avoid the greatest river
+in the world. We will explain why later. During the next few days they
+frequently saw tarpon (_Megalops Atlanticus_) six feet long, reminding one
+of gigantic herring. Some of them must have weighed one hundred and fifty
+pounds; and the one which nearly boarded the steamer, leaping into the air
+a foot from the bows of the _Miosen_, was fully this weight.
+
+[Illustration: KEY WEST.
+
+_From a Photo. by the Photochrom Co._]
+
+"I had heard stories at Key West about the barracuda, which is harpooned
+very much in the way whales are, although it is a somewhat smaller fish
+than the tarpon. My friend Captain Altsen told me he had once gone out in a
+small dinghy off the Keys with a Seminole Indian who was an adept at
+spearing barracuda. Armed with a long, slender pole tipped with a barb, to
+which a long rope was fastened, the native had speared the fish, which
+darted away like 'greased lightning,' actually towing the boat a full mile
+before he was hauled aboard exhausted. He said it was pretty exciting
+sport, and jokingly suggested my engaging a school of barracuda to tow the
+_Miosen_ to Stockholm. He observed, however, that they would probably leave
+the ship at Tindhoelm, as they only frequent the Gulf Stream.
+
+[Illustration: "THE FISH DARTED AWAY LIKE 'GREASED LIGHTNING.'"]
+
+[Illustration: PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN BY THE MATE OF THE "MIOSEN" IN LATITUDE 30,
+LONGITUDE 82, SHOWING THE DIFFERENT ASPECT OF THE GREAT RIVER AND THE
+OCEAN.]
+
+"I may mention that at the beginning our speed was between four and five
+knots an hour, but we hardly averaged more than about fifty knots a day.
+There was little wind to speak of. On the 8th we had a fair breeze, which
+sent us along a couple of knots faster. The speed of the current is, I am
+told, wholly regulated by the presence or absence of wind; but I give the
+normal time. As we rounded the south coast of Florida we encountered huge
+flocks of birds wending their way northward. Anything more placid and
+beautiful than the Gulf Stream at this point cannot be imagined. The water
+is a brilliant blue, like the Bay of Naples, while in the far distance may
+be seen the dark green of the ocean. The temperature of the water I
+ascertained to be seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit; that of the Atlantic
+could hardly have been above forty-five degrees. Off Bebini we observed a
+curious sight, which more than ever impressed the idea of a river on our
+minds, and this occurred several times in the course of our long trip. The
+presence of a stiff land breeze blew us out of the channel to the very edge
+of the Stream, whose boundaries were here as clearly marked as that of the
+Mississippi. Great quantities of driftwood and flotsam of all sorts,
+including canes and palm leaves, floated in a long, thin line extending for
+miles, forming natural banks to the world's greatest river. My mate took a
+photograph of this phenomenon, together with others, but, unluckily, in
+developing them later, all were more or less spoiled, although some idea
+may be got from the one showing the aspect of the Stream. We also observed
+numerous flying-fish, which, curiously enough, rarely, if ever, deviated
+from the path of the Stream, as if they were quite aware of its course and
+boundaries."
+
+[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHOWING THE COURSE OF THE GULF STREAM.]
+
+From this point the river flows straight to the north, pressing through the
+ocean with a width of nearly thirty-seven miles, and of an average depth of
+two hundred fathoms. The mass of water has been estimated at some
+forty-five millions of cubic yards a second. The mean discharge of the
+Mississippi is barely twenty-five thousand cubic yards.
+
+As the Gulf Stream expands and spreads in its northward and easterly
+course, its depth becomes proportionately less considerable. The strata of
+cold water which serve as its banks retire on each side and allow it more
+breadth. The cold bed of water which bears it, and over which it flows, as
+terrestrial rivers glide over beds of rocks, gradually approaches nearer
+the surface. Off Cape Hatteras the depth is about one hundred and twenty
+fathoms, and its speed does not exceed three miles an hour, but it is twice
+as wide as when it emerges from the Strait of Florida. Its width is here
+seventy-eight miles. Its thickness, of course, constantly diminishes until
+it is only a thin sheet of warm water on the other side of the Atlantic,
+and is gradually dissipated in the sub-Arctic sea.
+
+[Illustration: THE "CITY OF SAVANNAH," WRECKED IN THE GREAT STORMS OF
+1893.]
+
+As the travellers proceeded almost due north the island of Great Bahama
+soon came to form the eastern boundary of the Gulf Stream. In this
+locality many fearful storms have occurred, for when the river is angry it
+is one of the most fearful places in the world for a ship to be. It is said
+that the whole of the Bahama Islands which lie scattered through the sea to
+the east of the Gulf Stream rest on a foundation of submarine banks formed
+by the deposits of the river. The same may be said of the islands which
+line the coasts of Georgia and the Carolinas on the west. Off one of these
+islands the captain distinctly made out the wreck of a large craft,
+floating free on the edge of this current, which he has since been told was
+the _City of Savannah_, wrecked in the great storms of 1893. Derelicts are
+common in these parts, no fewer than forty having been reported last year.
+
+Long ago the soundings taken by the officers of the American Coast Survey
+showed, according to Lieut. Maury, that the Gulf Stream flows along the
+coast of America at some distance from the land. The slight inclination of
+the low lands of Georgia and Carolina is continued under water till the
+sounding line attains a depth of about fifty fathoms. The bottom then sinks
+rapidly and forms a long valley parallel to the shore of America and the
+chalky walls of the Appalachian range. In this valley, hollowed to the east
+of the submarine basement of America, the Gulf Stream waters flow. Owing to
+the rotatory motion of the globe and also to the curve of the coasts, the
+Stream follows a constant direction to the north-east. Off New York and
+Cape Cod it deviates more and more to the east. It ceases to follow the
+coast-line, and rolls across the open Atlantic towards the shores of
+Western Europe. Thus, as Maury says, if an enormous cannon had force enough
+to send a bullet from the Strait of the Bahamas to the North Pole the
+projectile would follow almost exactly the curve of the Gulf Stream and,
+gradually deviating on its way, reach Europe from the west.
+
+[Illustration: THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHTSHIP, WHICH MARKS THE SITE OF AN OCEAN
+GRAVEYARD.]
+
+We have spoken of the driftwood boundaries of the Gulf Stream; but there is
+an even more pronounced barrier easily ascertained by a use of the
+thermometer. The warmest and most rapid part of the Gulf Stream is that in
+most immediate juxtaposition to a sheet of cold water flowing in an
+opposite direction off Carolina which bounds our river like a wall of ice.
+Occasionally the line of demarcation is so precise that it is visible to
+the naked eye, and the exact moment when a ship leaves the cold current and
+its prow cleaves the Gulf Stream may be observed. The latter waters are of
+a beautiful azure, that of the counter-current is greenish; one is
+saturated with salt, the other contains the mineral to a far slighter
+extent. But the chief distinction is that one is tepid, the other frigid as
+ice.
+
+On the 21st one of the men reported having sighted a light to the north,
+and had also clearly heard a distant bell tolling. This was probably the
+South Shoal Lightship, which marks the site of an ocean graveyard
+hereabouts. This lightship, with a crew of a dozen men, has been adrift
+nearly thirty times in the course of her history, and was once fourteen
+days in the Gulf Stream. She is a schooner or barge of two hundred and
+seventy-five tons, about one hundred feet long, chained to an anchor of
+three and a half tons. But it is said the life aboard is so unbearably
+monotonous to the crew that they cut the chain and so send the lightship
+adrift. The skipper was glad when the Gulf Stream carried him away from the
+neighbourhood, for he was reminded that over five hundred wrecks have taken
+place some leagues to the northward of his course.
+
+[Illustration: "THE TEMPERATURE OF THE STREAM WAS DISAGREEABLE TO HIM."]
+
+The _Miosen_ was now bound almost due east, as if headed for the Azores,
+for the great river curves at this point. Just south of Halifax, in
+longitude sixty-five degrees, they came across their first iceberg,
+drifting on the very edge of the stream. There is nothing so unhealthy for
+an iceberg as the Gulf Stream, and an iceberg seems to know it. When,
+however, it is fairly caught in its clutches it soon melts away to
+nothingness before it has been carried many leagues eastward, all
+depending, of course, upon its size. As with icebergs, so with whales, as
+we have already mentioned. The vessel encountered a whale later in
+longitude fifty, but it was obvious that the temperature of the Stream was
+disagreeable to him, for he soon headed again for the Arctic regions. Other
+whales make a dash through or remain by the side of the big river and so
+reach lower latitudes, but a brief sojourn is enough for them. The Gulf
+Stream is a river which can boast everything maritime but whales.
+
+The great river just touches the southern extremity of the Grand Banks of
+Newfoundland. This bank of Newfoundland, an enormous plateau surrounded on
+all sides by abysses five to six miles deep, is chiefly due to the contact
+of the Arctic current with the Gulf Stream. For here is the chief graveyard
+of icebergs. On entering the tepid waters of the river the frozen mountains
+gradually melt and let fall the fragments of rock and loads of earth they
+bear into the sea. The bank, which rises gradually from the bottom, is the
+work of the Greenland glaciers and the floes of the Polar Sea. It is the
+presence of the Gulf Stream in these latitudes which is the cause of the
+prevalent fogs not only here, but in the islands off Europe. From here
+onward a sailor can always tell whether or not he is in the Stream by
+plunging a thermometer overboard. Capt. Westrup found that it crosses the
+Atlantic with a mean speed of twenty-four knots a day. This had previously
+been ascertained, according to Maury, by direct measurement at different
+parts of the ocean, or by means of notes, which, having been thrown
+overboard in bottles, carefully closed, have floated for weeks or months at
+the will of the waves, and then been fished up in other latitudes or found
+on some seashore. In its long journey this mighty river transports hardly
+any other alluvium than the living frustules of animalculae which fill the
+tepid waters of the current, and are constantly falling like snowflakes to
+the bottom of the ocean. However, during the whole distance across the
+_Miosen_ constantly met with the trunks and branches of trees, cane stalks,
+and woody flotsam, much of which finally reaches the coasts of Europe, even
+as far as Spitzbergen.
+
+"It was," says M. Reclus, "these remains which our ancestors of the Middle
+Ages believed to come from the fabulous island of St. Brandan or from
+Antilia, and which furnished matter for thought to daring navigators like
+the great Columbus. Seeds carried from the New World by the current have
+found a favourable soil on the shores of the Azores, and, although many
+thousands of miles from their native land, have germinated and borne fruit.
+Frequently the Gulf Stream brings to Europe the damaged products of human
+industry and the timber of wrecked ships. During the Seven Years' War the
+main-mast of an English man-of-war, the _Tilbury_, which had been burnt
+near San Domingo, was found on the northern coasts of Scotland. Also, a
+river-boat laden with mahogany was once driven to the Faeroee Islands. The
+remnants of vessels wrecked in the latitude of Guinea have reached the
+British Isles on the Gulf Stream, and Esquimaux canoes have often been
+carried on its waves to the Orkneys."
+
+The Faeroee Islands formed the temporary stopping-place of the _Miosen_.
+
+"Here," states the captain, "we disembarked at Thorshaven on May 13th. On
+the morning of the 12th we sighted Tindhoelm, which is generally regarded as
+the barrier or point marking the end of the longest river in the world. We
+had begun our voyage at its source, and had traversed four thousand two
+hundred and twelve miles to its mouth, where the waters spread out into the
+great North Sea."
+
+[Illustration: APPROACH TO THE FAeROeE ISLANDS--THE END OF THE GULF STREAM.
+
+_From a Photo._]
+
+Of the incalculable benefit to the climate of the British Isles and Western
+Europe which the Gulf Stream confers, one need not here pretend to speak.
+The river waters lose their warmth but slowly, and during winter they often
+have, off Cape Hatteras and the bank of Newfoundland, a temperature
+twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit above that of the ocean. Thus they become a
+source of heat to Western Europe. Owing to the warmth of its waters the
+lakes of the Faeroee and Shetland Isles never freeze in winter. Great Britain
+is enveloped in fogs and the myrtle grows on Irish shores in the same
+latitude as icy Labrador. The western coasts of Ireland have five degrees
+higher temperature even than those of the eastern, and there the
+fifty-second degree of latitude corresponds to the thirty-eighth degree in
+America. All this is ascribed, and rightly, to the proximity of the world's
+greatest river.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET.[A]
+
+BY E. NESBIT
+
+
+X.--THE HOLE IN THE CARPET.
+
+    Hooray! hooray! hooray!
+    Mother comes home to-day;
+    Mother comes home to-day,
+    Hooray! hooray! hooray!
+
+Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast, and the Phoenix shed
+crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.
+
+"How beautiful," it said, "is filial devotion!"
+
+"She won't be home till past bed-time, though," said Robert. "We might have
+one more carpet-day."
+
+He was glad that mother was coming home--quite glad, very glad; but at the
+same time that gladness was rudely contradicted by a quite strong feeling
+of sorrow, because now they could not go out all day on the carpet.
+
+"I do wish we could go and get something nice for mother, only she'd want
+to know where we got it," said Anthea. "And she'd never, never believe the
+truth. People never do, somehow, if it's at all interesting."
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Robert. "Suppose we wished the carpet to take us
+somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it--then we could buy
+her something."
+
+"Suppose it took us somewhere foreign, and the purse was covered with
+strange Eastern devices, embroidered in rich silks, and full of money that
+wasn't money at all here, only foreign curiosities, then we couldn't spend
+it, and people would bother about where we got it, and we shouldn't know
+how on earth to get out of it all." Cyril moved the table off the carpet as
+he spoke, and its leg caught in one of Anthea's darns and ripped away most
+of it, as well as a large slit in the carpet.
+
+"Well, now you _have_ done it," said Robert.
+
+But Anthea was a really first-class sister. She did not say a word till she
+had got out the Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool, and the
+darning-needle and the thimble and the scissors, and by that time she had
+been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly
+disagreeable, and was able to say quite kindly:--
+
+"Never mind, Squirrel, I'll soon mend it."
+
+Cyril thumped her on the back. He understood exactly how she had felt, and
+he was not an ungrateful brother.
+
+"Respecting the purse containing coins," the Phoenix said, scratching its
+invisible ear thoughtfully with its shining claw, "it might be as well,
+perhaps, to state clearly the amount which you wish to find, as well as the
+country where you wish to find it, and the nature of the coins which you
+prefer. It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse
+containing but three oboloi."
+
+"How much is an oboloi?"
+
+"An obol is about twopence halfpenny," the Phoenix replied.
+
+"Yes," said Jane, "and if you find a purse I suppose it is only because
+someone has lost it, and you ought to take it to the policeman."
+
+"The situation," remarked the Phoenix, "does indeed bristle with
+difficulties."
+
+"What about a buried treasure," said Cyril, "and everyone was dead that it
+belonged to?"
+
+"Mother wouldn't believe _that_," said more than one voice.
+
+"Suppose," said Robert--"suppose we asked to be taken where we could find a
+purse and give it back to the person it belonged to, and they would give us
+something for finding it?"
+
+"We aren't allowed to take money from strangers. You know we aren't, Bobs,"
+said Anthea, making a knot at the end of a needleful of Scotch
+heather-mixture fingering wool (which is very wrong, and you must never do
+it when you are darning).
+
+"No, _that_ wouldn't do," said Cyril. "Let's chuck it and go to the North
+Pole, or somewhere really interesting."
+
+"No," said the girls together, "there must be _some_ way."
+
+"Wait a sec," Anthea added. "I've got an idea coming. Don't speak."
+
+There was a silence as she paused with the darning-needle in the air.
+Suddenly she spoke:--
+
+"I see. Let's tell the carpet to take us somewhere where we can get the
+money for mother's present, and--and--and get it some way that she'll
+believe in and not think wrong."
+
+"Well, I must say you are learning the way to get the most out of the
+carpet," said Cyril. He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual, because
+he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the
+carpet.
+
+"Yes," said the Phoenix, "you certainly are. And you have to remember
+that if you take a thing out it doesn't stay in."
+
+No one paid any attention to this remark at the time, but afterwards
+everyone thought of it.
+
+"Do hurry up, Panther," said Robert; and that was why Anthea did hurry up
+and why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby
+like a fishing-net, not tight and close like woven cloth, which is what a
+good, well-behaved darn should be like.
+
+Then everyone put on its outdoor things, the Phoenix fluttered on to the
+mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass, and then all was
+ready. Everyone got on to the carpet.
+
+"Please go slowly, dear carpet," Anthea began; "we like to see where we're
+going." And then she added the difficult wish that had been decided on.
+
+Next moment the carpet, stiff and raft-like, was sailing over the roofs of
+Kentish Town.
+
+"I wish----No, I don't mean that. I mean it's a _pity_ we aren't higher
+up," said Anthea, as the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney-pot.
+
+"That's right. Be careful," said the Phoenix, in warning tones. "If you
+wish when you're on a Wishing Carpet, you _do_ wish, and there's an end of
+it."
+
+So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm
+magnificence over St. Pancras and King's Cross stations and over the
+crowded streets of Clerkenwell.
+
+"We're going out Greenwich way," said Cyril, as they crossed the streak of
+rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. "We might go and have a look at
+the Palace."
+
+On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the chimney-pots
+than the children found at all comfortable. And then, just over New Cross,
+a terrible thing happened.
+
+Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was on the
+carpet, and part of them--the heaviest part--was on the great central darn.
+
+"It's all very misty," said Jane; "it looks partly like out of doors and
+partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was going to have
+measles; everything looked awfully rum then, I remember."
+
+"I feel just exactly the same," Robert said.
+
+"It's the hole," said the Phoenix; "it's not measles, whatever that
+possession may be."
+
+And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly and at once made a bound to try
+and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the darn _gave way_ and
+their boots went up, and the heavy heads and bodies of them went down
+_through the hole_, and they landed in a position something between sitting
+and sprawling on the flat leads on the top of a high, grey, gloomy,
+respectable house whose address was 705, Amersham Road, New Cross.
+
+The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of
+their weight, and rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and peeped
+over the edge of the rising carpet.
+
+[Illustration: "'ARE YOU HURT?' CRIED CYRIL."]
+
+"Are you hurt?" cried Cyril, and Robert shouted "No," and next moment the
+carpet had sped away, and Jane and Robert were hidden from the sight of the
+others by a stack of smoky chimneys.
+
+"Oh, how awful!" said Anthea.
+
+"It might have been worse," said the Phoenix. "What would have been the
+sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were
+crossing the river?"
+
+"Yes, there's that," said Cyril, recovering himself. "They'll be all right.
+They'll howl till someone gets them down, or drop tiles into the front
+garden to attract the attention of passers-by. Bobs has got my one and
+five-pence--lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, Panther, or he
+wouldn't have had it. They can tram it home."
+
+But Anthea would not be comforted.
+
+"It's all my fault," she said. "I _knew_ the proper way to darn, and I
+didn't do it. It's all my fault. Let's go home and patch the carpet with
+your Etons--something really strong--and send it to fetch them."
+
+"All right," said Cyril; "but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my Etons.
+We must just chuck mother's present, that's all. I wish----"
+
+"Stop!" cried the Phoenix; "the carpet is dropping to earth."
+
+And indeed it was.
+
+It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford
+Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally
+walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind
+a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the
+Deptford Road noticed it. The Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of
+Cyril's coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked:--
+
+"Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?"
+
+They were face to face with their pet uncle--their Uncle Reginald.
+
+[Illustration: "IN AN INSTANT IT HAD ROLLED ITSELF UP AND HIDDEN BEHIND A
+GATE-POST."]
+
+"We _did_ think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson,"
+said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could
+believe.
+
+"And where are the others?" asked Uncle Reginald.
+
+"I don't exactly know," Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.
+
+"Well," said Uncle Reginald, "I must fly. I've a case in the County Court.
+That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can't take the chances
+of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted
+Hall and give you lunch at the Ship afterwards! But, alas! it may not be."
+
+The uncle felt in his pocket.
+
+"_I_ mustn't enjoy myself," he said, "but that's no reason why you
+shouldn't. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you
+_some_ desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu."
+
+And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella the good and
+high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange
+eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's
+hand.
+
+"Well!" said Anthea.
+
+"Well!" said Cyril.
+
+"Well!" said the Phoenix.
+
+"Good old carpet," said Cyril, joyously.
+
+"It _was_ clever of it--so adequate and yet so simple," said the Phoenix,
+with calm approval.
+
+"Oh, come on home and let's mend the carpet. I am a beast. I'd forgotten
+the others, just for a minute," said the conscience-stricken Anthea.
+
+They unrolled the carpet quickly and slily--they did not want to attract
+public attention--and the moment their feet were on the carpet Anthea
+wished to be at home, and instantly they were.
+
+The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them to
+go to such extremes as Cyril's Etons or Anthea's Sunday jacket for the
+patching of the carpet.
+
+Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn together,
+and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned
+American oil-cloth which careful housewives use to cover dressers and
+kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could think of.
+
+Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth. The
+nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did not feel
+so sure as he had done about their being able to "tram it" home. So he
+tried to help Anthea, which was very good for him, but not much use to her.
+
+The Phoenix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and
+more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on one
+gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said:--
+
+[Illustration: "'GOOD OLD CARPET,' SAID CYRIL, JOYOUSLY."]
+
+"I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert--who set my egg to
+hatch--in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so
+pleasantly! I think, if you'll excuse me----"
+
+"Yes--_do_," cried Anthea. "I wish we'd thought of asking you before."
+
+Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sun-bright wings and
+vanished.
+
+"So _that's_ all right," said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly
+pricking his hand in a new place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this
+time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but--what happened to Jane and
+Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the house
+which was called number 705, Amersham Road.
+
+But I had to tell you the other first. That is one of the most annoying
+things about stories. You cannot tell all the different parts of them at
+the same time.
+
+Robert's first remark when he found himself seated on the damp, cold, sooty
+leads was:--
+
+"Here's a go!"
+
+Jane's first act was tears.
+
+"Dry up, Pussy; don't be a little duffer," said her brother, kindly. "It
+will be all right."
+
+And then he looked about, just as Cyril had known he would, for something
+to throw down, so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below in
+the street. He could not find anything. Curiously enough there were no
+stones on the leads, not even a loose tile. The roof was of slate, and
+every single slate knew its place and kept it. But, as so often happens, in
+looking for one thing he found another. There was a trap-door leading down
+into the house.
+
+And that trap-door was not fastened.
+
+"Stop snivelling and come here, Jane," he cried, encouragingly. "Lend a
+hand to heave this up. If we can get into the house we might sneak down
+without meeting anyone, with luck. Come on."
+
+They heaved up the door till it stood straight up, and, as they bent to
+look into the hole below, the door fell back with a hollow clang on the
+leads behind, and with its noise was mingled a blood-curdling scream from
+underneath.
+
+"Discovered!" hissed Robert. "Oh, my cats alive!"
+
+They were indeed discovered.
+
+They found themselves looking down into an attic, which was also a
+lumber-room. It had boxes and broken chairs, old fenders and
+picture-frames, and rag-bags hanging from nails.
+
+In the middle of the floor was a box, open, half full of clothes. Other
+clothes lay on the floor in neat piles. In the middle of the piles of
+clothes sat a lady, very flat indeed, with her feet sticking out straight
+in front of her. And it was she who had screamed, and who, in fact, was
+still screaming.
+
+"Don't!" cried Jane, "please don't! We won't hurt you."
+
+"Where are the rest of your gang?" asked the lady, stopping short in the
+middle of a scream.
+
+"The others have gone on, on the Wishing Carpet," said Jane, truthfully.
+
+"The Wishing Carpet?" said the lady.
+
+"Yes," said Jane, before Robert could say, "You shut up!" "You must have
+read about it. The Phoenix is with them."
+
+Then the lady got up, and picking her way carefully between the piles of
+clothes she got to the door and through it. She shut it behind her, and the
+two children could hear her calling "Septimus! Septimus!" in a loud yet
+frightened way.
+
+"Now," said Robert, quickly; "I'll drop first."
+
+He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap-door.
+
+"Now you. Hang by your hands. I'll catch you. Oh, there's no time for jaw.
+Drop, I say."
+
+Jane dropped.
+
+[Illustration: "JANE DROPPED."]
+
+Robert tried to catch her, and even before they had finished the breathless
+roll among the piles of clothes, which was what his catching ended in, he
+whispered:--
+
+"We'll hide--behind those fenders and things; they'll think we've gone
+along the roofs. Then, when all is calm, we'll creep down the stairs and
+take our chance."
+
+They hastily hid. A corner of an iron bedstead struck into Robert's side,
+and Jane had only standing room for one foot--but they bore it--and when
+the lady came back, not with Septimus, but with another lady, they held
+their breath and their hearts beat thickly.
+
+"Gone!" said the first lady; "poor little things--quite mad, my dear--and
+at large! We must lock this room and send for the police."
+
+"Let me look out," said the second lady, who was, if possible, older and
+thinner and primmer than the first. So the two ladies dragged a box under
+the trap-door and put another box on the top of it, and then they both
+climbed up very carefully and put their two trim, tidy heads out of the
+trap-door to look for the "mad children."
+
+"Now," whispered Robert, getting the bedstead-leg out of his side.
+
+They managed to creep out from their hiding-place and out through the door
+before the two ladies had done looking out of the trap-door on to the empty
+leads.
+
+Robert and Jane tiptoed down the stairs--one flight, two flights. Then they
+looked over the banisters. Horror! a servant was coming up with a loaded
+scuttle.
+
+The children with one consent crept swiftly through the first open door.
+
+The room was a study, calm and gentle, manly, with rows of books, a
+writing-table, and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the
+fender. The children hid behind the window-curtains. As they passed the
+table they saw on it a missionary-box with its bottom label torn off, open
+and empty.
+
+"Oh, how awful!" whispered Jane. "We shall never get away alive."
+
+"Hush!" said Robert, not a moment too soon, for there were steps on the
+stairs, and next instant the two ladies came into the room. They did not
+see the children, but they saw the empty missionary-box.
+
+"I knew it," said one. "Selina, it _was_ a gang. I was certain of it from
+the first. The children were not mad. They were sent to distract our
+attention while their confederates robbed the house."
+
+"I am afraid you are right," said Selina; "and _where are they now_?"
+
+"Downstairs, no doubt, collecting the silver milk-jug and sugar-basin and
+the punch-ladle that was Uncle Joe's, and Aunt Jerusha's teaspoons. I shall
+go down."
+
+"Oh, don't be so rash and heroic," said Selina. "Amelia, we must call the
+police from the window. Lock the door. I _will_--I will----"
+
+The words ended in a yell as Selina, rushing to the window, came face to
+face with the hidden children.
+
+"Oh, don't!" said Jane; "how can you be so unkind? We _aren't_ burglars,
+and we haven't any gang, and we didn't open your missionary-box. We opened
+our own once, but we didn't have to use the money, so our consciences made
+us put it back and----_Don't!_ Oh, I wish you wouldn't----"
+
+Miss Selina had seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert. The children
+found themselves held fast by strong, slim hands, pink at the wrists and
+white at the knuckles.
+
+"We've got _you_, at any rate," said Miss Amelia. "Selina, your captive is
+smaller than mine. You open the window at once and call 'Murder!' as loud
+as you can."
+
+Selina obeyed; but when she had opened the window, instead of calling
+"Murder!" she called "Septimus!" because at that very moment she saw her
+nephew coming in at the gate.
+
+In another minute he had let himself in with his latch-key and had mounted
+the stairs. As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek
+of joy so loud and so sudden that the ladies leaped with surprise and
+nearly let them go.
+
+"It's our own clergyman," cried Jane.
+
+"Don't you remember us?" asked Robert. "You married our burglar for
+us--don't you remember?"
+
+"I _knew_ it was a gang," said Amelia. "Septimus, these abandoned children
+are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house. They
+have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents."
+
+[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU REMEMBER US?' ASKED ROBERT. 'YOU MARRIED OUR
+BURGLAR FOR US.'"]
+
+The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.
+
+"I feel a little faint," he said, "running upstairs so quickly."
+
+"We never touched the beastly box," said Robert.
+
+"Then your confederates did," said Miss Selina.
+
+"No, no," said the curate, hastily. "_I_ opened the box myself. This
+morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers' Independent
+Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose this is _not_ a
+dream, is it?"
+
+"Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it."
+
+The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of course,
+was blamelessly free of burglars.
+
+When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.
+
+"Aren't you going to let us go?" asked Robert, with furious indignation,
+for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood
+of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair. "We've never done
+anything to you. It's all the carpet. It dropped us on the leads. _We_
+couldn't help it. You know how it carried you over to the island, and you
+had to marry the burglar to the cook."
+
+"Oh, my head!" said the curate.
+
+"Never mind your head just now," said Robert; "try to be honest and
+honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!"
+
+"This is a judgment on me for something, I suppose," said the Reverend
+Septimus, wearily, "but I really cannot at the moment remember what."
+
+"Send for the police," said Miss Selina.
+
+"Send for a doctor," said the curate.
+
+"Do you think they _are_ mad then?" said Miss Amelia.
+
+"I think I am," said the curate.
+
+Jane had been crying ever since her capture. Now she said:--
+
+"You aren't now, but perhaps you will be, if----And it would serve you
+jolly well right, too."
+
+"Aunt Selina," said the curate, "and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only
+an insane dream. You will realize it soon. It has happened to me before.
+But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream. Do not hold the children;
+they have done no harm. As I said before, it was I who opened the box."
+
+The strong, bony hands unwillingly loosed their grasp. Robert shook himself
+and stood in sulky resentment. But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him
+so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.
+
+"You're a dear," she said. "It is like a dream just at first, but you get
+used to it. Now _do_ let us go. There's a good, kind, honourable
+clergyman."
+
+[Illustration: "JANE RAN TO THE CURATE AND EMBRACED HIM."]
+
+"I don't know," said the Reverend Septimus; "it's a difficult problem. It
+is such a very unusual dream. Perhaps it's only a sort of other life--quite
+real enough for you to be mad in. And if you're mad there might be a
+dream-asylum where you'd be kindly treated, and in time restored, cured, to
+your sorrowing relatives. It is very hard to see your duty plainly, even in
+ordinary life, and these dream-circumstances are so complicated----"
+
+"If it's a dream," said Robert, "you will wake up directly, and then you'd
+be sorry if you'd sent us into a dream-asylum, because you might never get
+into the same dream again and let us out, and so we might stay there for
+ever, and then what about our sorrowing relatives who aren't in the dreams
+at all?"
+
+But all the curate could now say was, "Oh, my head!"
+
+And Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness. A
+really conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage.
+
+And then, just as the hopelessness and the helplessness were getting to be
+almost more than they could bear, the two children suddenly felt that
+extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you are just
+going to vanish. And the next moment they had vanished, and the Reverend
+Septimus was left alone with his aunts.
+
+"I knew it was a dream," he cried, wildly. "I've had something like it
+before. Did you dream it too, Aunt Selina, and you, Aunt Amelia? I dreamed
+that you did, you know."
+
+Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia. Then she said, boldly:--
+
+"What do you mean? _We_ haven't been dreaming anything. You must have
+dropped off in your chair."
+
+The curate heaved a sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, if it's only _I_," he said; "if we'd all dreamed it I could never have
+believed it, never!"
+
+Afterwards Aunt Selina said to the other aunt:--
+
+"Yes, I know it was an untruth, and I shall doubtless be punished for it in
+due course. But I could see the poor, dear fellow's brain giving way before
+my very eyes. He couldn't have stood the strain of _three_ dreams. It _was_
+odd, wasn't it? All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same moment.
+We must never tell dear Seppy. But I shall send an account of it to the
+Psychical Society, with stars instead of names, you know."
+
+And she did. And you can read all about it in one of the society's fat
+Blue-books.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, you understand what had happened?
+
+The intelligent Phoenix had simply gone straight off to the psammead, or
+sand-fairy, who gives wishes and had wished Robert and Jane at home. And,
+of course, they were at home at once. Cyril and Anthea had not half
+finished mending the carpet.
+
+When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little they all went
+out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presents for
+mother. They bought her a pink silk handkerchief, a pair of blue and white
+vases, a bottle of scent, a packet of Christmas candles, and a cake of soap
+shaped and coloured like a tomato, and one that was so like an orange that
+almost anyone you had given it to would have tried to peel it--if they
+liked oranges, of course. Also they bought a cake with icing on, and the
+rest of the money they spent in flowers to put in the vases.
+
+When they had arranged all the things on a table, with the candles stuck up
+on a plate ready to light the moment mother's cab was heard, they washed
+themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes.
+
+Then Robert said, "Good old psammead," and the others said so too.
+
+"But, really, it's just as much good old Phoenix," said Robert. "Suppose
+it hadn't thought of getting the wish!"
+
+"Ah!" said the Phoenix, "it is perhaps fortunate for you that I am such a
+competent bird."
+
+"There's mother's cab," cried Anthea, and the Phoenix bird and they
+lighted the candles, and next moment mother's cab was home again.
+
+She liked her presents very much, and found their story of Uncle Reginald
+and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe.
+
+"Good old carpet," were Cyril's last sleepy words.
+
+"What there is of it," said the Phoenix, from the cornice-pole.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+
+
+
+_The Making of a Lily._
+
+BY F. MARTIN DUNCAN.
+
+
+[Illustration: 1.--A "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, SHOWING THE
+UNDERGROUND STEM WITH NEXT YEAR'S BUDS.]
+
+[Illustration: 2.--A RETARDED "CROWN" OF THE LILY OF THE VALLEY BEFORE
+BEING PLANTED IN THE FORCING-HOUSE.]
+
+To the question, "What are your favourite flowers?" a large majority of
+people will be found to promptly answer, "Lilies." And every year these
+beautiful flowers seem to become more and more popular. They have a charm
+peculiarly their own, unmatched by any other flower; while a halo of
+romance has encompassed them from the earliest dawn of civilization,
+inspiring poets, painters, and all lovers of the beautiful in Nature.
+
+North, south, east, and west collectors have travelled, diligently seeking
+for new species, until a wonderful collection of all sorts, shapes, and
+sizes of lilies has been brought together, to enrich our gardens and
+greenhouses with their graceful forms and delicate tints. But in spite of
+all this continual importation of gorgeous and distinguished foreigners,
+flaunting it bravely in scarlet and gold, our own native lily of the valley
+still ranks first favourite in the hearts of the people. Nor is this
+constancy surprising, for what can be more charming than the exquisite cool
+green of its foliage or the sweet, fresh fragrance of the clusters of its
+pure white flowers?
+
+[Illustration: 3.--AFTER A WEEK IN THE FORCING-HOUSE THE BUD BEGINS TO
+SWELL.]
+
+Partly on account of its graceful shape and sweet scent, the pure white of
+its blossoms and delicate green of its foliage, the lily of the valley has
+become one of the most important flowers for bouquets and floral
+decorations, often being used on the most opposite occasions--for the
+bridal bouquet and the funeral wreath--yet never appearing out of place or
+incongruous; while at Yule-tide it is nowadays in as great demand as the
+holly for decorating our homes and churches. Consequently there is now a
+steadily-growing demand for lilies of the valley throughout the year.
+
+Now, in its natural state, growing at its own sweet will in our woods, the
+lily of the valley flowers only in the spring of the year, just as the
+earliest spring flowers are beginning to fade; while later in the year its
+leafless flower-stem bears numerous pretty, globular-shaped red berries,
+the seeds from which future generations of lilies will spring. Besides its
+seeds, the lily of the valley has another method of perpetuating the
+species by means of its subterranean creeping root-stock, on which a new
+bud, or series of buds, appears annually, each bud ultimately developing
+the orthodox two leaves, from the centre of which rises the flower-stem. As
+the flowers and foliage of the present year begin to fade, those buds on
+the underground stem which represent next year's supply of flowers are seen
+to increase somewhat in size. During the cold winter months they rest and
+remain practically inactive, awaiting the first warm breath of spring,
+which is the signal for them to start into active growth.
+
+[Illustration: 4.--IN TEN DAYS SOME APPRECIABLE GROWTH IS MADE.]
+
+[Illustration: 5.--FOURTEEN DAYS' GROWTH. THE TIGHTLY-FOLDED FOLIAGE LEAVES
+AND FLOWER STEM HAVE DEVELOPED.]
+
+The peculiar underground stem of the lily of the valley is known amongst
+gardeners as the "crown." For a long time the autumn and winter demand for
+flowers of the lily of the valley was met by digging up the crowns out of
+the gardens or woods, placing them in pots filled with rich soil, and
+forcing their growth in the hothouse. Now, curious to say, although the
+lily crowns responded to this treatment and sent up their flower-stems,
+they absolutely declined to develop any foliage, probably because they had
+been deprived of their winter rest and the opportunity to store up the
+requisite strength for building up both flowers and foliage; moreover, the
+blossoms of these forced crowns were often very small in size.
+
+[Illustration: 6.--EIGHTEEN DAYS' GROWTH. THE CREAMY-WHITE LEAVES BEGIN TO
+SWELL.]
+
+Many eminent florists, both in England and on the Continent, dissatisfied
+with such results, set to work to solve the difficulty of growing both
+foliage and flowers of the lily of the valley all the year round. The task
+was a troublesome one, though not quite so hopeless as it would appear to
+the uninitiated, for these flower specialists knew that crowns which were
+taken out of the ground at the end of the winter and forced would
+frequently develop both foliage and flowers.
+
+[Illustration: 7.--TWENTY-ONE DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE GAINING ITS GREEN
+TINT AND THE FLOWER-BUDS SHOWING.]
+
+At last, after numerous experiments had been tried, a method was evolved
+whereby it became possible to supply the markets of the world with both
+large and handsome flowers and foliage of the lily of the valley all the
+year round, from New Year's Day to New Year's Eve. The crowns are now
+collected before the new buds have made much growth, and subjected to a
+process of refrigeration which takes the place of the winter sleep, and by
+which means they can be stored for a long time without injury. Four or five
+weeks before the flowers and foliage are required the crowns are planted in
+the hothouse, and kept at a temperature of about 75 deg. Fahr. during the
+whole period of their growth.
+
+[Illustration: 8.--TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE BEGINNING TO
+UNFURL.]
+
+[Illustration: 9.--THIRTY-ONE DAYS' GROWTH. THE FLOWER-STEM RAPIDLY
+GROWING.]
+
+When taken from the refrigerator the lily crown, technically known on the
+market as a "retarded crown," has a somewhat dry, brownish appearance. A
+week spent in the rich soil and hot, humid atmosphere of the forcing-house
+causes the bud to swell and begin to grow. In ten days it is seen to have
+really made some appreciable growth. At the end of fourteen days the
+creamy-white, tightly-folded foliage leaves and the tip of the flower-stem
+are seen to have developed, the leaves broadening out somewhat about the
+eighteenth day. In twenty-one days the still folded leaves have gained a
+delicate, pale greenish hue, and the flower-buds have begun to make
+themselves plainly visible upon the flower-stem. Twenty-eight days finds
+the leaves a slightly deeper green in tint and beginning to unfurl; while
+the flower-stem is now more slowly developing, showing a close
+approximation to the order of growth under natural conditions. In thirty
+days the flower-stem begins to put on a spurt and catch up with the leaves
+in growth. Thirty-six days from the planting of the retarded crown the
+fully-formed flower-buds begin to open, and a day or two later the plant is
+in full bloom and the foliage and flowers are ready for the market.
+
+[Illustration: 10.--THIRTY-SIX DAYS' GROWTH. THE FOLIAGE FULLY DEVELOPED
+AND THE FLOWER-BUDS BEGINNING TO OPEN.]
+
+[Illustration: 11.--THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS GROWTH. THE FLOWERS AND FOLIAGE READY
+FOR MARKET.]
+
+
+
+
+_Curiosities._
+
+Copyright, 1904, by George Newnes, Limited.
+
+[_We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section, and to pay for
+such as are accepted._]
+
+
+AN EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE.
+
+"Whilst lifting a dish of apples from the table one of the apples fell from
+the dish to the wineglass and remained in the position shown in the
+photograph. It did not upset the glass, although it was empty. The
+edge of the glass had cut into the apple, so retaining it in
+position."--Lieut.-Col. G. T. Trueman, Brooklands, Mansfield Road, Reading.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE.
+
+"The bridge shown in the photograph carries with it a curious legend, which
+runs somewhat as follows. Once upon a time there was no bridge at all, and
+a ford was the only means at the disposal of the local inhabitants. One
+day, owing to a flood, an old woman was unable to cross the river to sell
+her wares at the village market. She began to cry. The Devil hearing her
+sobs came to her and said he would build a bridge across the river, on
+condition that he had the very first living being that crossed the bridge
+after market time, his Satanic Majesty knowing very well that the old woman
+was always the first on the journey back. The woman promised, and the Devil
+soon built the bridge. The woman on returning from market was about to step
+upon the bridge when she suddenly remembered what the Devil had said. Not
+knowing what to do, she went to the priest and confessed everything. The
+worthy priest, giving her a cake, advised her to throw it to the other side
+of the bridge and let her dog run after it. This she did, and the Devil was
+so angry at being cheated of his prey that he dropped a corner of his apron
+and the stones fell to the bottom of the river, where they may be seen to
+this day."--Mr. J. B. Mather, 21, Liverpool Road, Birkdale, near Southport.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A CYCLONIC FREAK.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"On Saturday afternoon, October 3rd, 1903, a cyclone passed over the State
+of Wisconsin from the south-west corner to the north-east corner, doing
+considerable damage to life and property. At the time I was employed as a
+local man on the _Waupaca Post_, and was detailed to write up the results
+of the storm in that neighbourhood. At a point about seven miles north of
+Waupaca, near the village of Scandinavia, I found that the wind had
+demolished a farm-house and that an ordinary cabinet photo. had been blown
+from a table in the front room and driven about one-half its area into a
+solid oak tree by the side of the road. The tree was badly broken above,
+but perfectly solid at the point where the picture was driven in. I took
+hold of the card and pulled as hard as I dared, but found it to be quite
+immovable."--Mr. Thos. L. Jacobs, Sumner, Washington.
+
+
+WHEN IS A MONKEY NOT A MONKEY?
+
+"When it is a Japanese fern tree like that shown in my photograph. The
+Japanese people are fond of shaping fern roots so as to resemble animals,
+and when the fern grows a little judicious clipping of the fronds adds much
+to the realistic and often grotesque effect."--Miss Emmons, Mount Vernon,
+Leamington.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+SCRAP-IRON _v._ EVIL SPIRITS.
+
+"In the southern part of the United States one of the superstitions of the
+negroes is that fruit trees should be protected from evil spirits by
+hanging upon them iron in some form. According to their belief, if the
+trees do not have some such safeguard the spirits will enter the trunk and
+branches and prevent the trees from bearing. The accompanying photograph
+shows a peach tree in Maryland which was protected from the evil spirits in
+this way. Suspended from the trunk and branches are chains, stove lids,
+hoops, grates, and iron nails collected by the owner of the tree from piles
+of old metal for this purpose. It is a peculiar fact, however, that the
+tree has borne large crops of peaches each year it has thus been
+protected."--Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION."
+
+"I send you a photograph showing a unique umbrella which sheltered two
+young ladies under it during a violent thunderstorm. While spending my
+holiday in the Blue Mountains of Sullivan County, New York, I decided to
+take a trip to Minisink Battlefield, in the town of Highland, where, on
+July 22nd, 1779, a tribe of Indians, led by the noted half-breed, Joseph
+Brant, massacred a band of white soldiers, who had made an heroic fight and
+had gained the upper hand, when they discovered that their ammunition had
+given out. A rude monument of stone marks the spot, and while I was taking
+a photograph of it the storm broke. Our party found temporary shelter in an
+abandoned hut in a quarry at the mountain top, but being miles from our
+stopping-place, and having failed to provide ourselves with even a single
+umbrella, one of the party, Mr. Ralph Austin, saw possibilities in the
+umbrella line when I folded up my rubber-coated focusing cloth. A birch
+sapling furnished the rod, and branches of maple trees were made to serve
+as ribs. These were held in place by strips torn from a handkerchief. Then
+the focusing cloth was stretched across the frame and tied down at the
+corners with more strips from the handkerchief. The homeward journey was
+then begun, and for a distance of nearly four miles the young ladies walked
+under the umbrella, which thoroughly protected them from the rain. They
+were so pleased with this ingenious umbrella that they insisted upon being
+photographed under it."--Mr. Adolph A. Langer, 116, Danforth Avenue, Jersey
+City, N.J.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+BEAVERS' WORK.
+
+"This photograph shows the remarkable work of what are known as
+dam-building beavers. The little animals sometimes construct barriers of
+brushwood and clay in creeks to form their winter habitations. Occasionally
+they use pieces of timber of quite large size. The logs which are shown in
+this picture were actually cut by their sharp teeth, and were found in the
+swamp occupied by a beaver colony near Stroudsburg, Pa. The work was done
+so nicely that the wood appears as if hewn with an axe. Pieces of this size
+were used to strengthen the dam and were gnawed from limbs of trees, some
+of which were over six inches in diameter. As will be noted, one bears a
+remarkable resemblance to a horse's hoof."--Mr. D. A. Willey, Baltimore.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+CATALEPTIC RIGIDITY.
+
+"This is a rather uncommon photograph of a man whilst under hypnotic
+influence, lying on an upturned stool, bearing the weight of three people
+on his body. His feet are resting on one leg and his neck on the other
+without any support between. The photograph was taken without the knowledge
+of the subject."--Mr. E. E. Vinnicombe, Gloucester Row, Weymouth.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED SURGERY.
+
+"The accompanying photograph of a mural tablet in St. Sampson's Church,
+Guernsey, the inscription on which is in French, brings the surgical skill
+of to-day into striking contrast with that of a hundred years ago. For the
+benefit of those who do not care to try their eyesight in reading the small
+type, or who do not understand French, I have translated the latter and
+more interesting part of the inscription into English, as follows: 'This
+monument is erected to their memory, and also to that of their eldest son,
+Thomas Falla, Lieutenant of the 12th Regiment of Infantry, who died at the
+siege of Seringapatam, April 6th, 1799, aged eighteen years, six months,
+twenty-five days, as the result of a wound of a solid cannon ball weighing
+twenty-six pounds, which had lodged between the two bones of one of his
+thighs. The said wound having become considerably inflamed, the surgeon of
+the regiment, after he had examined the injury, was unaware that the ball
+was enclosed in it, and it was only after his death, which took place six
+hours after the event, that it was extracted, to the surprise of the whole
+Army.' The solid cannon ball referred to, of twenty-six pounds in weight,
+must have been five and three-quarter inches in diameter; it is astounding
+to contemplate that the regimental surgeon was unable to detect the
+presence of this huge mass of iron in the unfortunate officer's
+thigh."--Mr. Arthur D. Moullin, "Cintra," Swanage, Dorset.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A SHAM STRONG MAN.
+
+"The picture of the 'Strong Man' was taken as follows: A section of bark
+was removed from a partly rotten log, a thin slice being then sawn off the
+log and placed in one end of the bark. This hollow sham was shouldered by
+the 'Strong Man' whilst a friend snapped the shutter."--Mr. Paul Drake,
+Green Lake Post Office, Seattle, Washington.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+THE POWER OF A GROWING TREE.
+
+"At the time of the American occupation in Cuba a number of anchors were
+thrown aside by the Americans in the Havana Navy Yard. Since then the tree
+shown in the photograph has grown up. It is known in Cuba as the
+'Frambollan,' or Royal Ponciana. The tree has caught the anchor and lifted
+it bodily from the ground, one end of the anchor being twenty-one inches
+from the ground and the other twenty-five inches, although, if measurements
+were not taken, it would appear as if both sides were perfectly even. The
+anchor weighs about four thousand five hundred pounds. The photograph was
+taken by Mr. Marcos More, Pena Pobre 27, Havana, Cuba."--Mr. J. A. del
+Solar, Room 818, 108, Fulton Street, New York.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+WOMEN COALING A STEAMER IN JAPAN.
+
+"This photograph, which was taken in the harbour at Yokohama, shows one
+side of a liner with many ladders running up from numerous coal barges
+which surround the ship. The curious, and at the same time interesting,
+point of the photograph lies in the fact that the coaling is carried out by
+gangs of girls. They use little round baskets, which they pass from one
+hand to another with amazing rapidity. Many of the figures which appear in
+the photograph to be boys are not really so, for the dress of the girls is
+in many ways of the masculine type--the large figure in the foreground is a
+typical specimen of this. By the following figures one can realize the
+speed with which the coal is put on board. One of the 'Empress' line of
+steamers has had 1,360 tons loaded in this way in four hours, which is at
+the rate of 5.7 tons per minute."--Mr. S. Edward Ould, 47, Gloucester
+Square, Hyde Park, W.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+"A RUBBING STONE FOR ASSES."
+
+"About the middle of the seventeenth century there stood an inn at the
+corner of the old Chester road in Lower Bebington (near Birkenhead). The
+loafers of the neighbourhood used to hang about the corner and loll against
+the wall of this inn, which very much annoyed the innkeeper. Being an
+ingenious man, he hit upon the following way of ridding himself of the
+annoyance. He put a tablet in the wall (right-hand side of photo.), of
+which none of them could understand the meaning for some time. At last one
+of the sharpest found that by running the letters together a sentence was
+formed, reading, 'A Rubbing Stone for Asses.' Of course, this effectually
+cleared the loafers. The puzzle on the middle stone is solved thus:--
+
+          987654321 (=45)
+    minus 123456789 (=45)
+    ---------------------
+        = 864197532 (=45)
+
+The worthy innkeeper's name (see third stone) was Mark Noble, and his sign
+was 'The Two Crowns,' the thirty shillings being made up by--
+
+    Mark       = 13s. 4d.
+    Noble      =  6s. 8d.
+    Two Crowns = 10s. 0d.
+                ---------
+                 30s. 0d.
+                ---------
+
+The lettering of the stones has been recut lately to preserve it."--Mr. T.
+H. Lee, 122, St. Domingo Vale, Liverpool.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+ENGLISH AS SHE IS MURDERED.
+
+"The accompanying is a faithful copy of an address of welcome presented to
+the passengers of the s.y. _Argonaut_ on the occasion of their visit to
+Messene. Though a very amusing curiosity as regards the writer's
+manipulation of the English language, it cannot fail to convey to the
+'grand swans of strong Albion' the feeling of respect and admiration in
+which they are held by the people of Greece."--Mr. Arthur Williamson, 17,
+Union Square, S.E.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+A SNAIL FARM.
+
+"This is a photograph of a snail farm which I took last summer at
+Engelberg, near Lucerne. The owner of the farm is a peasant and he has over
+three thousand Roman snails, some of them of immense size. He sends them to
+Italy and Paris. They are worth about three a penny, and when dressed and
+cooked ready for eating they sell for nearly two shillings a dozen."--Miss
+I. M. Fairbairn, Wood Rising, Rye, Sussex.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strand Magazine, Volume XXVII,
+Issue 160, April, 1904, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRAND MAGAZINE, APRIL, 1904 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 37484.txt or 37484.zip *****
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