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diff --git a/old/50183-0.txt b/old/50183-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2594e1d..0000000 --- a/old/50183-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2241 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, -Science, and Art, No. 720, October 13, 18, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 720, October 13, 1877 - -Author: Various - -Editor: William Chambers - Robert Chambers - -Release Date: October 11, 2015 [EBook #50183] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL, OCT 13, 1877 *** - - - - -Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: - -CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL - -OF - -POPULAR - -LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART. - -Fourth Series - -CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. - -NO. 720. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1877. PRICE 1½_d._] - - - - -THRIFT AND UNTHRIFT. - - -We lately said a word on Rich Folks, hinting that so far from being -the monsters of iniquity which moralists and preachers have for ages -denounced them, they are, taken all in all, public benefactors; for -without the accumulation of wealth, by means of thrift and honest -enterprise, the world would still have been in a deplorably backward -condition. Riches are of course comparative. An artisan who by savings -and diligence in his calling has insured for himself a competence for -old age, is doubtless rich and respectable. Doing his best, and with -something to the good, he is worthy of our esteem. What he has laid -aside in a spirit of economy goes to an augmentation of the national -wealth. In a small way he is a capitalist--his modicum of surplus -earnings helping to promote important schemes of public interest. - -Great Britain, with its immense field for successful industry and -enterprise, excels any country in the capacity for saving. In almost -every branch of art there is a scope for thrift beyond what is -obtainable elsewhere. Thriftiness, however, among the manual labouring -classes was scarcely thought of in times within living remembrance. -Savings-banks to receive spare earnings came into existence only in -the early years of the present century. Now, spread in all directions, -and established in the army and navy, they possess deposits amounting -to nearly thirty millions sterling. Besides these accumulations, much -is consigned to Friendly Societies; and it is pleasing to observe -that within the last twenty years, the artisan classes have expended -large sums in the purchase of dwellings purposely erected for their -accommodation. All this looks like an advance in thrifty habits--a -stride in civilisation. - -But after every admission of this kind has been made, it is too -certain that vast numbers live from hand to mouth, save nothing -whatever from earnings however large, and are ever on the brink of -starvation. In this respect, the working classes, as they are usually -styled, fall considerably below the peasantry of France, who, though -noted for their ignorance, and for the most part unable to read, -have an extraordinary aptitude for saving; of which there is no more -significant proof than their heavy loans to government when pressed to -pay an enormous war indemnity to Germany. As the thrift of the French -agriculturists sinks to the character of a sordid parsimony, which is -adverse to social improvement, no political economist can speak of it -with unqualified admiration. It only shews what can be done by two or -three things--the economical use of earnings, the economical use of -time, and the strict cultivation of temperate habits. From each of -these predominating qualities a lesson might be judiciously taken. -Though a lively race, fond of amusement, the French peasantry, and we -may add, the peasantry of Switzerland, know the value of time. In them -the 'gospel of idleness,' so pertinaciously preached up by indiscreet -enthusiasts, has no adherents. In all our experience, we have never -seen such assiduity in daily labour from early morn till eve, as -among the French and Swiss rural population. They would repudiate any -dictation of a hard and fast line as to hours. Time is their beneficent -inheritance, to make the most of for themselves and families. - -Pity it is that in our own country time is so unthriftily squandered. -Obviously there is a growing disposition among the operative classes -to diminish the daily hours of labour, to the detriment of individual -and general prosperity. When we began life, ten hours a day, or sixty -in the week, were considered a fair thing. Then came a diminution -to nine, to eight hours, along with whole and half-holidays, but no -lowering of wages. How this is to go on, we are unable to explain. We -fear that unless something like common-sense intervene, a degree of -individual and national disaster will ensue scarcely contemplated by -the votaries of 'St Lubbock.' In his late speech at the opening of the -Manchester Town-hall, Mr Bright adverted to the awkward consequences -of indefinitely shortening the hours of labour. He is reported to -have said: 'We have for many years past been gradually diminishing the -period of time during which our machinery can work. We are surrounded -by a combination whose object is not only to diminish the time of -labour and the products of labour, but to increase the remuneration of -labour. Every half an hour you diminish the time of labour, and every -farthing you raise the payment of labour which is not raised by the -ordinary economic and proper causes, has exactly the same effect upon -us as the increase of the tariffs of foreign countries. Thus we often -find, with all our philanthropy in wishing the people to have more -recreation, and with our anxiety that the workman should better his -condition through his combination, that we are ourselves aiding--it -may be inevitably and necessarily--but it is a fact that we are aiding -to increase the difficulties under which we labour in sending foreign -countries the products of the industry of these districts; and we -must bear in mind that great cities have fallen before Manchester and -Liverpool were known; and that there have been great cities, great -mercantile cities on the shores of the Mediterranean, the cities of -Phœnicia, the cities of Carthage, Genoa, and Venice.' Such sentiments -are worth taking to heart. The preaching up of recreation, otherwise -idleness, has gone rather too far. We begin to perceive that wages can -be paid only in proportion to work done, and that if people choose to -amuse themselves, there must correspondingly be a new adjustment of -payments. - -At the late meeting of the British Association, there was some -profitable discussion on work, wages, and thrift. One speaker -emphatically pointed out that unthrift was more concerned in producing -poverty in families than a deficiency in wages. He said, that where -there was a deficiency of food 'it would mostly be found that what -was wanted had been consumed in drink.' Adding, 'As a matter of fact, -the large families did the best, and the greatest men in science and -as statesmen were mostly members of large families and younger sons -upon whom early struggles for mental growth had produced brilliant -results.' This corresponds with ordinary experience. Within our own -knowledge, the greater number of persons distinguished in literature, -the arts, and in commerce have been the sons of parents whose means of -bringing up their families did not exceed a hundred, in some instances -not eighty, pounds a year. Yet upon these slender resources, through -the effects of thrift--as, for example, the case given by the late Sir -William Fairbairn--families of six or seven children were respectably -reared, and attained prominent places in society. - -In almost every large town is observed a painful but curious contrast -in the administration of earnings. On one side are seen the families -of small tradesmen making a manful struggle to keep up respectable -appearances at a free revenue of not more than a hundred a year; -while alongside of them are families earning two pounds a week and -upwards, who make no effort at respectability, and are constantly in -difficulties. The explanation simply lies in thrift and unthrift. -In one case there are aspirations and enlightened foresight; in the -other there is a total indifference to consequences. A few weeks -ago, the Rev. F. O. Morris, of Nunburnholme Rectory, Hayton, York, -communicated to the _Times_ some remarkable revelations concerning -unthrift. 'A gentleman of my acquaintance,' he says, 'living in a -midland manufacturing town, gave me, two or three years ago, the -following instances of the unthriftness, or rather the outrageous -extravagance, of the artisans there; such cases being quite common, -the exceptions only the other way. I must premise that many of them -with families were at that time earning from eight to twelve pounds a -week; a single man as much as five pounds a week, and yet, though paid -on Saturday evenings, they would come on the following Monday night to -ask the manager for an advance of the next week's wages. And this not -for any legitimate expenditure, for even those who had families lived -generally in one room, kept no servant, and only employed charwomen. -Nevertheless, well they might be in want of ready-money, for often you -would see a party setting out on a Sunday for an excursion to some -place or other in a carriage with four horses, and dressed in the most -extravagant manner, but at the same time with much taste, owing no -doubt to their employment being in the lace-trade. - -'A charwoman told the wife of my informant that she knew one married -couple who can earn seven pounds a week who often came to her on a -Thursday to borrow a shilling, their money being all gone. They lived -in two rooms, very badly furnished. A needle-woman also told the lady -that she knew a couple who earned eight pounds a week, or even more, -between them, who lived in two rooms wretchedly furnished, without even -a cup or saucer, besides the two they used, to give a friend a cup of -tea; that the woman would give four or five guineas for a dress, and -had given as much as six guineas, which she would wear all day, from -the first thing in the morning till it was shabby, when she would buy -another as expensive, or even more so, according to the fashion. She -never cooked their own dinner, but bought the most expensive things, -took them to a public-house to be cooked, and dined there, eating and -drinking afterwards. The "hands" in the trade of the place would often -order, for one week, black tea at 4s. a pound, and green at 6s. Thy -would also buy cucumbers at 1s. and 1s. 6d. apiece, beefsteaks for -breakfast at 1s. 3d. a pound, and would only eat them fried in butter; -salmon in like manner when it first came in at 3s. or 4s. a pound, and -lamb at a guinea a quarter. For more light fare they would buy oysters -at 2s. or 2s. 6d. a dozen, put down gold on the counter, and eat them -as fast as a man could open them for them. My friend saw two men thus -eat 10s. worth standing at a stall in the market-place. A man earning -L.3 a week, paid on the Saturday evening, got into a row with the -police on the Sunday, was fined 25s. on the Monday, and not one out of -a hundred or more of his fellow-workmen could advance him the money -to pay the fine with, and he had to borrow it of the foreman. Another -was earning L.4 a week. His master told him he ought to lay by. "Oh," -said he, "I can spend all I make." "But," said the master, "what shall -you do, if the times are bad, with your wife and children?" "Let 'em -go to the Union," said he. The master himself told my friend this. Mr -Baker, the Inspector of Factories, in one of his Reports, stated that a -moulder, his wife, and boy on an average earn L.5, 10s. 6d. a week. He -mentions a case of a moulder, his wife, and three children earning L.8, -7s. 2½d. - -'How can we wonder, with such facts as these before us, that Mr -Sandford, Her Majesty's Inspector, stated in one of his Reports: "Out -of 50 (lads) examined in nine different night schools, 29, or 58 per -cent., could not read. These night scholars are certainly not the most -untaught of the collier lads. 'There's none of them as can read in our -pit,' I heard two young colliers say; 'no, nor the master neither.' And -yet we wonder that our colliers do not invest their earnings wisely."' - -Loud and prolonged has been the denunciation of public-houses as -the cause of crime and misery--so easy is it to mistake secondary -for primary causes. While admitting that public-houses scattered in -profusion are the cause of many evils, we go a little farther, and -looking for what produces the cause, find that it consists in depraved -tastes, want of self-respect, unthrift. To a man of elevated tendencies -and intelligent foresight, the number of public-houses is a matter -of no importance. He passes by the whole with indifference. Their -allurements only excite his pity. He scorns their temptations. It is to -this pitch of fortitude we should like to see the weak-minded brought, -through education and the habitual cultivation of self-respect, -along with a deep consciousness of responsibilities. In therefore so -exclusively attacking public-houses as the cause of intemperance, we -are in a sense beginning the process of cure at the wrong end. We are -expending energies on secondary causes, leaving the seat of the disease -untouched. Under infatuations of this kind, the misdirection of moral -power is pitiable. The subject is wide, and might be expatiated on to -any extent. We here confine ourselves to the remark, that the thing -to cultivate is Thrift--not only as regards the expenditure of money -but expenditure of time, and in saying this we fear that those who -have systematically, though with good intentions, advocated a degree -of recreation that must be deemed excessive and dangerous, have not a -little to answer for in promoting habits of unthrift. - - W. C. - - - - -FROM DAWN TO SUNSET. - - -PART II. - - -CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. - -It was about this time, or some three or four days after Kingston's -arrival, that Mistress Dinnage was sitting--languidly for her--at the -door of the lodge. Mistress Dinnage lived a life of constant energy; -she did not sit and lament; she had her sorrows; but they were closed -within the proudest heart that ever beat, and no man knew of them. But -all the more dangerous is the stern sorrow that feeds upon itself, the -aching, ever-present grief, so stoically disregarded. Mistress Dinnage -indulged in neither tears nor regrets; bravely she did her duty day by -day, and never would sit down to court a sweet and fancied dream. But -when evening came, what had she to do? Father was not home; the tall -clock in the corner went tick, tick, tick! Lady Deb was busied with -her kinsman Kingston Fleming; old Marjory was no companion to Mistress -Dinnage. Lives are so different. In some more genial lives, in some -gay changeful or adventurous life, sorrow and despair are kept at bay. -In contrast to this life of Margaret's, there was May Warriston far -away, dreaming through courtly galleries, gazing on splendid pictures, -listening to ravishing music, kneeling before gorgeous shrines. Amid -such scenes as these, the heart-strings may be tuned to never a -discordant note. But in eternal calm, in depressing sickness, in dreary -hours of solitude, _then_ the grim spectre looks on us face to face. We -may work; ay, but when we pause to rest? Work, everlasting work, gives -a stern sense of satisfaction and the comfort of 'something done;' -but unlightened by sweeter moments, neither softens the heart nor -strengthens the mind. Under that stern government, imagination sleeps, -thought grows torpid, the poor wounded soul is grasped within the iron -hand it defies, Nature herself lies bruised and bleeding. - -In the hours of hard work and daylight, sorrow was to Margaret Dinnage -unheeded, unheard, uncared for; but when forced inaction came, when the -little room darkened slowly, and the lightest whisper of the breeze -began to be heard above the hushed tumult of the world, then the tall -clock told a monotonous tale moment by moment to the proud still -heart--a tale of solitude and hopeless calm. She would go to the porch -not to hear it; but to go out and roam about the happy fields she could -not, for there she had played when a child. No; better stand at the -door and watch; father would be coming soon. - -One evening as Mistress Dinnage thus watched, the gate swung to; not -the stooping form of old Jordan Dinnage, but a tall and tower-like -figure loomed through the gloaming and darkened the doorway. Loud and -full beat the heart of Mistress Dinnage; she could not speak. For the -first time for years, she and Charles Fleming were alone. - -'Who is at Enderby?' he asked, in a short stern voice. - -'Mistress Deborah,' she answered, with hurried breathless utterance, -'an' Master Kingston Fleming.' - -'Not my father?' - -'No.' - -'Has Master Sinclair been here lately?' - -'Yes; he was over yesterday morning.' - -Then the gloaming parted as it were to admit of a blink of sunshine, -and the dark eyes that were gazing up sought the haggard eyes that were -gazing down upon them, and all in a flash. Twilight and the wild sweet -solitude around them drew those proud hearts together with a power -that yearning nature could not resist. The spell of Love was woven -around them. Not one word was uttered: stern silence, weary endless -longing, pride, grief, trouble, despair, all were now hushed in one -long embrace. Long and wordless as had been estrangement, so swift and -wordless the wooing; no syllable was needed to tell what the soul had -known. - -What mattered it in that supreme moment that he was a hunted ruined -fugitive--that she was a poor and penniless girl--that they met but to -part again? The sweet summer breeze was blowing round them; the trees -trembled with gladness overhead; they were young; the world was wide -and free. The solemn warning voice of the old clock, for them spoke in -vain. - -When Mistress Dinnage could speak, she whispered on his breast: -'Thou'rt in trouble.' - -'In trouble? Yes.' Then, with a reckless laugh, he took her face -between his hands, and answered by wild and passionate kisses. - -'Nay; thou must speak,' she went on earnestly, and holding back his -head with her little hands. 'Kisses will not aid thee, or I would kiss -thee till I died. Speak, Master Fleming! Art thou ruined?' - -'Ay; stick and stone.' - -'I saw it in thy face, only now the love-light covers it. Oh, how -canst thou look so glad for my poor love, when thou'rt ruined and -_disgraced_? Bethink thee, Master Fleming. Thine old home will go to -strangers. Thy sister will share in thy disgrace. Thy father will go in -sorrow to the grave. Thou'rt ruined, disgraced, _dishonoured_!' - -He caught her to his heart, and then held her wildly from him, -regarding her with infinite pathos. '_And wilt thou throw me over, -Meg?_' - -Then spoke she anxiously: 'What is it thou mean'st? Speak out to me. -Let there be no secrets and no riddling. Dost thou love me _truly_?' - -Then answered the proud liquid glance of those dark eyes; and whispered -the youth low in her ear: 'I would like to kill thee for this -questioning! _Truly_, love? Dost thou know Charles Fleming so little, -that thou'rt in doubt? that thou canst believe he could wrong the only -girl he ever loved? Ruffian, gamester, roysterer though I be, I would -keep thee pure as snow--snowdrift. Thou shalt make me a better man, who -knows? For thy love I thirst, Meg, and have thirsted long. Now--ruined, -an outcast, a fugitive, is the moment I choose to seek thee! Wilt have -me, Meg, for better, for worse? Wilt share the fortunes of a sinner? -Perilous, comfortless, will be thy lot, love. Wilt thou be my wife?' - -She could not speak; she answered by a low cry of love and joy. What -recked Mistress Dinnage of the proud grand home and the heir of the -Flemings, all passed away! She loved--with all the pure abandonment of -a woman's love--this houseless wanderer. - -So came Charlie Fleming, and went, and haunted in the twilight round -Enderby, and no one knew of it save Mistress Dinnage. She was put -about, dismayed, torn by anxiety by all she heard; and the two loves -of her life, the loves of father and lover, were wrestling wildly in -her soul. Though fearing for her lover, yet, strange inconsistency, her -step was light as air, her heart was filled with a new joy, and her -eyes with happy tears. - - * * * * * - -'I must go,' thought Kingston Fleming desperately to himself, the -morning after the above scene. 'The old fellow won't turn up, neither -does Charlie. I mustn't compromise _her_. But she must not be alone. -I doubt--I doubt sorely about the future. Poor sweet child! I will -speak to old Marjory; she must hold that flighty Mistress Dinnage in -the house. And I will get Deb to send for May Warriston.' So thinking, -Kingston went into the garden, where he saw Deborah at her flowers, and -abruptly he began: 'I am come to say farewell, Deb. Don't look scared, -little coz; you shall not be left alone.' - -'Then whom shall I have, King?' she asked, clinging suddenly to his -arm. 'Father is away; Charlie is away; and I am in hourly fear of evil -tidings. You say, _not alone!_ O King, I shall be alone indeed!' - -'Little one, I am going to write to May Warriston, to beg her to come -and bear you company. Meantime, I am going to see your father. I know -his whereabouts, love; I will send him home to-night. And have ye not -Marjory, Jordan, and your beloved Mistress Dinnage?' - -'Ay, I have them all. But what are weak women and a poor old man -compared to your size and strength? With you, King, I am safe. In your -presence I can be thoughtless and glad again. In your presence--I am -happy.' - -'O Deb, Deb! Don't persuade me. I mustn't stay with you. Ill tongues -will be talking of you and me.' - -'What! of brother and sister? Of kinsfolk? It cannot, cannot be. But -let the world talk! What matters it? Will you, for paltry slander, -forsake me at this strait?' - -'Not forsake you, but consider you. Let go my hand, Deb! I am easily -unmanned nowadays. I must go.' - -'Well, go, go!'--and she pushed him from her. 'And indeed I would -have you seek my father, King, for I am very sad at heart. Cheer him -up; comfort him; wean him from his temptation if you can. It is that -terrible gambling that is the ruin of the Flemings. Oh, tell him so! -But above all things, send him home, for I have a dark, dark foreboding -on me; and this night alone at Enderby would drive me mad.' - -'He shall come.' - -'Then go, King, quickly.' - -'You are in a hurry to be rid o' me, now. Good-bye, sweet Deb; -good-bye. You will not come and see me off?' - -'Nay; I cannot.' - -'Well, good-bye, Enderby.' Kingston Fleming bared his head and gazed -round, strangely moved, at the old familiar scene. His keen blue eyes -grew dim. It did not shame his manhood that tears were drawn like -life-blood from his heart, as he nobly renounced a sore temptation. -'Good-bye, Enderby; good-bye.' - -He was gone. But still Deborah Fleming, amid her gay and dazzling -flowers, seemed to see him standing there, a tall graceful figure, a -face full of sadness and regret, a bared head that reverently bowed -its adieus; and the words still rang in her ears: 'Good-bye, Enderby; -good-bye.' Ten short minutes and all life had changed for her; only -when he was gone, she waked to her despair. The sun had ceased to -shine, the birds had ceased to sing, the flowers to bloom. She left her -gathered flowers to die, and went home like one stunned. - - -CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. - -Sir Vincent did return that night; he had seen Kingston, he said. He -was very late, and he was tired. He asked Deborah if Mistress Dinnage -were with her. - -'Yes, dear father. But you are going to sleep at home?' - -'Ay; but I may be off early--too early for even thee, my bird of dawn.' - -'Nay, father; I will be up, not to see thee off, but to hold thee here. -Thou shalt not go tomorrow!' - -He smiled. He looked pale. He kissed her fondly. - -'Lady Wilful, I must. I want to see my boy. He is ever in trouble.' - -'Nay; think not about it to-night, father. King has promised to find -him out.' - -And so they parted. Weary-hearted, with all the brightness called up -for her father laid aside, Deborah sought her chamber, weeping. She -recalled, the night when her father had told her Kingston Fleming was -betrothed, her wild despair. But she was a child, and the bright morrow -had then brought hope and healing. Now she was a woman, and a woman's -sorrow lay deep within her breast. Tired out, Deborah undressed and -lay down on her bed, not to wake and weep, but to sink into a deep -dreamless slumber.... - -With a start she awoke. A start often wakes us from the soundest sleep, -as if some spirit spoke. Deborah Fleming was so wide awake in a moment -that she saw through her open window the little pale ghost of the -waning moon, the drifting clouds flitting by. A strange feeling was on -Deborah. Had she been dreaming that she had seen a light shining under -her father's door? Dream or vision, she seemed to see it still, and was -irresistibly drawn thither by a mysterious inner sense of alarm. She -must go to her father's room, to see that all was well. With a wildly -beating heart, she threw on her dressing-gown and went swiftly out. -Gray dawn filled all the passages, a gray cold dawn, and the little -birds were beginning to twitter. But yes--oh, strange and true, a light -was glimmering under her father's door! - -Deborah heard him moving; she knocked. 'Father!'--No answer.--'Father!' - -'Who is there?' - -'Deborah! Father, open your door; I must speak with you at once.' - -She tried the door: it gave way; and Deborah saw a room scattered over -with papers, in the wildest confusion. The window stood open, and Sir -Vincent, looking gray and haggard in the uncertain light, stood against -the table in the middle of the room. He was dressed; his long white -hair was ruffled; his face was gray, pale; his eyes gleamed strangely -on Deborah from under their lowering brows. - -'Father!' said Deborah, 'my father!' A great trembling was on her, he -looked at her so strangely; but she kept outwardly calm. She laid her -hands upon his arm, and then her eyes fell from his troubled face to -his trembling hand, which was striving vainly to hide something amongst -the papers on the table. Deborah saw the handle of a pistol; she drew -it out, and regarded him steadfastly. 'Father, father! what is this?' - -He turned from her; his white head was bowed with shame in his hands, -and she heard a bitter sob. - -'I know it now,' said Deborah, with terrible calmness. 'God called me -here. O dear father, what have you thought on? To get free of ruin, you -would kill your soul. Kind heaven have mercy on thee! You would leave -me, father; you would leave me and Charlie.' She flung the pistol out -of the room; she threw her arms round him. Sobs were shaking the strong -man's frame. - -'O never think to leave me alone, father dear. It was sinful of you -not to call me; you might have known your little daughter would sooner -share your death, than wake to find you dead.' - -'God forgive me, Deb; God forgive me;' and he sank into his chair -faint, trembling, shuddering. Deborah, on her knees beside him, -scarcely knew her proud father, he was so unmanned. She waited in -silence, with her head laid down on his knee. When he could speak, he -said: 'I see God's hand in this; I believe in Him as I never believed -before. Child! nothing less than a miracle brought thee here, as heaven -is my witness; in another moment, Deb, I should have been a dead man. I -had the pistol in my hand; may He forgive me, Deb!' - -Then Deborah looked up white and calm: 'What could have induced you, -father? What ruin could be great enow to justify so great a sin? The -loss of house and lands? Let them go. You and I had better live in -some poor honest way, than keep at Enderby. Let it go. It is no great -matter, so long as you have your children's love.' - -He groaned. 'It isn't all, Deb; ruin isn't all. We have that, and -enow. But ye know the old saying, "Death before dishonour."--Charlie, -Charlie!' and the father's tremulous lips struggled piteously to utter -more. - -'Has Charlie _disgraced_ us then? How, father?' - -'God forbid that I tell thee how. My boy has killed me.' - -'Will _money_ save him, father?' The stern low voice scarcely seemed -Deborah Fleming's. - -'Money, ay; but we are beggars.' - -Deborah started to her feet. 'Well, think of it no more; you are -wearied to death, my father. Thinking won't right you nor save Charlie. -Sleep in peace, father, for I will save ye both this day.' - -He stared in her face. 'Heaven bless thee, Deb. I know not what thou -say'st. I think my brain is shaken, Deb. But _thou'rt_ my only stay.' -With that, the heart-broken old man, fallen so lowly from his high -estate, lay down, and fell into a deep sleep. Not so Deborah. - -Late in the morning, Sir Vincent awaked, and called for his daughter. -It seemed that she was near, for he had scarcely called before she -stood beside his bed. His strength was recruited; the strong and -nervous spirit had regained its power, and lived again in torture. He -gazed up at Deborah, piteous in his grim sorrow; still, in all his -strength, he turned to her: 'Deborah, my child, what is to be done?' - -'I am decided, father. I will be Adam Sinclair's wife. He has money -enow to buy Enderby. Look you, you have nothing more to say; only see -that he knows he may marry me.' - -'Thou'lt marry Adam Sinclair! Deb, art in earnest? Can ye do this? But -does it vex ye, love? Does it grieve ye _too_ much?' - -She looked so calm, he could not believe this sacrifice, but half -believed her indifferent; he was sorely trembling. - -'Nay, father. How vexed? how grieved? Ask me no questions. You know, -father, I was always "Lady Wilful," and very firm. Here now is a note -writ by mine own hand to _him_. I am decided.' - -Sir Vincent rose up; he knew not if he were most glad or grieved or -scared, as he took her in his arms and blessed her. Never had Deborah -received love or blessing so passively. She put the note in his hands, -and looking at him with her great gray earnest eyes: 'Sweet father,' -she said, 'it must needs be soon; and that he may know that I am in -earnest, I have left that "soon" to him. I am sincere with him, father, -and I tell him I have no love to give; but I would fain save Enderby; -and so I ask him if he will save Enderby for love of me, and yet leave -me free. There is a loophole, father, for I have no wish to wed. But if -he must wed Deborah Fleming, and only this will move him, I am ready. -But as he will choose the wedding-day, I stipulate for freedom till -that day, never to write nor meet till the bells ring for the wedding. -Let me be Deborah Fleming till then, and forget Adam Sinclair! Lovers -and wooing I cannot abide. And life is long enow from the wedding to -the grave!' - -Sir Vincent stood with the letter in his hand. 'Deborah, ye speak -strangely; yet you are smiling, and your eyes and cheeks are bright. -Little one, tell thy wretched father if thou'rt unhappy over this? -Speak, Deb, darling; and if it grieves thee, I will see myself in jail, -and Charlie on the gallows, ere thou shalt sacrifice thy life. Deborah, -be honest with me.' - -'Why, I am honest always. It will not hurt _me_. I will be a good wife -to him till the day I die, if it must needs be so. But would you have -me say I love him, reverence him? This cannot be. But if he will not -save Enderby otherwise, I will be his wife. Of the rest--I will not ask -you--I dare not. But Charlie shall be saved.' - -At these words Sir Vincent fell on his knees, and kissed his child's -dress like one beside himself, and then pale and wordless, rushed -away.... Then Deborah was left _alone_. The gay sun was shining in, and -the birds were singing from far and near; away up, Deborah's pet bird -the skylark was pouring out his supreme song of freedom in the blue -fields of space. She heard the trilling cadence from the wild bird's -throat. It drew her to the window, where she leaned out, and drank in -those delirious strains of joy, and stretched out her arms to the blue -sky, and thought of the little nest where the bird would drop, when -tired with wandering and with song. Could she be Deborah Fleming? Would -the messenger now speeding to Lincoln Castle bring her back freedom, or -death in life? She must wait, she must wait! Meantime, the o'ercome was -ringing in her ears of an old song that Kingston Fleming whistled when -a boy, and the sweet warm sun was shining on her, and Deborah laid her -aching head and her arms down on the window-sill and fell fast asleep. -It was then that Mistress Dinnage stole in; her face too was pale and -grave, but not so pale as the sleeping one over which she leaned. With -her hands clasped, she stood regarding it till her lips quivered, -and tears of troubled anxiety started to her eyes. 'Ay,' she said -with stern tenderness, 'you will die for him yet; but _I_ would die -for _him_ and _you_.' Then softly and in tender care, young Mistress -Dinnage passed a soft cushion under the little head, and laid a light -shawl over Deborah to shield her from the sun, and stole away. - - - - -MARKET-GARDEN WOMEN. - - -While the fruit-harvest is in progress, travellers through the western -outskirts of London will doubtless have noticed the numerous gangs -of women employed in gathering and packing fruit and vegetables -for market; the railway in that district running for several miles -through market-gardens and orchards. The peculiar dress of these -women--consisting of a large calico sun-bonnet, brightly coloured -neckerchief, short skirts reaching scarcely below the knee, and large -holland aprons--is alone sufficient to attract attention, even in the -momentary glimpse one obtains of them as the train sweeps past. Daily, -in sunshine and rain, these women are busy collecting the fruit and -vegetables which are nightly conveyed to the London markets; and as -some knowledge of their manner of life and the amount of their earnings -may prove interesting, we offer to our readers the substance of a -conversation held with a member of one of the gangs during the earlier -part of the season. - -'Do we get pretty good wages? Well, you see, sir, it all depends on -the season. Just now, when strawberries are in and peas, we can earn -as much as thirty shillings a week--some weeks more. Raspberries and -beans we do pretty well with, but gooseberries and currants ain't so -good: eight-and-twenty shillings a week is as much as we can make at -those, working hard and long for that. Of course we have to work long -hours, beginning at four or five o'clock in the morning, and keeping -at it till eight and sometimes later at night, generally taking about -an hour's rest at dinner-time. But as we gather all the fruit by -piece-work, and so to speak, our time is our own, what dinner-time we -take depends on what sort of a morning's work we've made--sometimes -longer and sometimes shorter. You see, this is how we work. In my -gang there's six of us, that have always worked together for a good -many years now. We get one on each side of a row of strawberries or -raspberries or peas, or what not; and when one basket is full, we puts -a few handfuls in our apron, always managing so as to take in all the -baskets full together; and then at night, when our work is counted up, -we share it equally amongst us. We always know every night how much we -have made, but only get paid once a week, on Saturdays: Saturday, you -know, being an easy day with us, on account of there being no market on -Sunday. Our missis is very good that way: every Saturday, afore twelve -o'clock, there is our money, much or little; though there is some of -the masters as think nothing of keeping their women waiting about till -six or seven o'clock at night before they pay them, and perhaps then -only gives 'em a part of it; which comes hard on folks as live from -hand to mouth, as we have to do; the shop at which we deal only giving -one week's credit--pay up one Saturday night, and run on as much as you -like till the next; or if you don't pay up, no more credit till you -does. - -'Apples and pears and such-like fruit we have nothing to do with--men -gather _them_ in. In fact as often as not the master sells the fruit -as it stands on the tree, and the buyer has to get his own men to -pluck it. But there's always some sort of fruit or vegetables to be -gathered from the beginning of spring till the end of summer as we -can do by piecework; and then the potatoes come in, which we pick up -after they've been turned out of the ground by men or by a machine; -but that we does by day-work, getting one-and-sixpence a day when we -work from six to six; and one-and-twopence when we work from eight till -dark. In winter-time there's always something to be done dibbing in -cabbage-plants, weeding, and such-like; but what with sharp frosts and -heavy snows, we don't earn much then, perhaps doing three or four days' -work in a week. Of course if we haven't had the sense to put by some of -the money we make in the good times of summer, times come cruel hard on -us in the winter; and very few of us like to apply to the parish if we -can anyhow help it. Not but what our missis is good to us in that way, -often finding us a day's work when it ain't needed, and always giving -us a half-pint of beer at the end of the day; which we can't claim, you -know. - -'We don't take much count of rain either winter or summer, because, -you see, people will have their fruit and vegetables fresh gathered; -and so we wrap ourselves well up and make the best of it. As I said -before, Saturday we don't do much; but then we have to make up for it -on Sundays, so as to send the fruit fresh to Monday's market. - -'Don't we suffer from rheumatics? Well, you mightn't think so, but it -ain't often any of us ails much. You see, being out in all weathers, we -get hardened to it; and besides, we always take good care to keep our -feet warm and dry--that's why we wear such heavy boots; and that's the -chief thing to look after, if you don't want to catch cold; so people -say. There ain't many of us but what is on the wrong side of thirty; -four out of _my_ gang being widows this many a year, with grown-up -sons and daughters; and it's the same in most gangs. Sometimes we have -young women amongst us; but there's not many of 'em stays at it after -they are married; not all the year through, I mean; perhaps coming for -a day or two at the busiest times; but even then it hardly pays them, -if they have a young family about 'em. The gangs of young women as you -sometimes see, we don't count as belonging to us; they only coming up -from Shropshire mostly--for a month or six weeks at the busiest part of -the season. Children we never have working with us, I suppose because -they wouldn't be careful enough about not crushing the fruit; which as -_you_ know, it would never pay to send crushed fruit into market. For -my part, I'm very glad as there is no children allowed amongst us, as -though it ain't very hard work, it's terribly tedious and back-aching. -When our children is old enough, we send the girls out to service -somewhere; and there's always plenty of work for the lads, of some -sort, about the farms; which is a good deal better than breaking their -backs at _our_ work. - -'We all of us in my gang live hereabouts, in those little cottages that -you see yonder. Three shillings a week the rent of 'em is; but then -there's a good piece of garden-ground at the back; and most of us has -lodgers, young men what work on the farms and in the gardens mostly. -Four rooms there is in my cottage; and I have three lodgers, sometimes -four, two sleeping in one room. Good lads they are too. You see, as -they get home before I do, I always lay my fire in the morning before I -go out; and a neighbour of mine sets it alight in time for the kettle -to be a-boiling when they come in to their tea at six o'clock; and they -never misses leaving a potful of good strong tea for me to have when -I get home; which you may be sure is all the more grateful through -being the only hot drink I get all day, having only a drop of cold tea, -which I carry in that can there, for my breakfast. And maybe if we are -working near a public-house, we club up, and one of us goes and gets a -drop of beer to drink with our dinners. - -'If it wasn't for the lodgers, the gardens wouldn't be much use to us; -but they generally take it in hand, and often comes to take a pride in -it; so that we are never short of such vegetables as are in season; -which helps a good way towards the rent. They also chop up my wood and -fetch my water for me, and make themselves handy in a score of ways; -indeed if I lost my lodgers, I don't know what I should do. It ain't -much cooking I do in the week; but what there is to do I do after I -come home. On Sunday the lads always look for a hot dinner; which when -I'm at home, I cook for them; and when I'm at work I get all ready on -Saturday night, and one of 'em takes it to the bakehouse to be baked. -When we do work on Sundays, if we anyhow can manage it, we try to get -done by three or four o'clock, so as we may be in time to dress and go -to church; which as a rule we mostly do. - -'I can't read nor yet write, and I don't suppose as there's a-many -amongst the oldest of us as can. It wasn't much chance of schooling -girls like us got in my time, as we was sent out to work at something -or other when we was about nine or ten. I did go to school for a -little while; but if I learnt anything I must have forgotten it again. -The young ones are better off for the matter of that, and are always -willing to read or write a letter for us when we want 'em. - -'Nineteen years I've been at it regular now, sir; and though I was -left a widow with seven children, the oldest of 'em only ten and one -at the breast, I'm proud and thankful to say as we've never had any -need to ask once for a loaf of bread even from the parish, and trust -as we never shall. I ain't the only one either, for there's Mrs Amblin -as lives next door to me was left with nine children, oldest only -twelve, and has lived to see 'em all doing for themselves without being -beholden to nobody for a crust of bread. Some years, when the fruit -has been backward or scarce, we've had a very close push to make ends -meet; but it has only taught us to be more careful when we have a good -season, and to put by a little more towards a bad one. We don't use -any bank, bless you! what little we can manage to put by, we generally -likes to have handy where we can put our hand on it when we want it. Of -course, there's no telling what may happen; but while I have my health -and strength left me, I shall always be able to earn as much as I need; -and if it should happen as _they_ fail me, well, what with lodgers and -the shilling or two my children will help me with, I daresay I shall -struggle along somehow. Mostly, though our children don't come to be -much more than field-hands and farm-labourers, when the time comes -they don't begrudge what is due to their parents, and manage somehow -to keep 'em out of the workhouse. Not but some of 'em goes to the -bad, as might be expected, seeing the little schooling we can afford -to give them, and the temptations there is for them nowadays; but it -is only here and there one, and they generally finish up by listing -for a soldier, which soon steadies 'em. One of my lads is away now in -the East Indies; and though I don't often hear from him, he seems to -be getting on quite as well as ever he'd ha' done at home. Our girls -mostly gets acquainted with one or other of the men working about the -place where they are at service, and get married, sooner perhaps than -what we old folks think they ought to--about nineteen or twenty--and -settle down near where their husbands work. - -'We don't get much chance of holidays when once the season begins, -until it is over; because, you see, sir, the master must keep the -market supplied; and if he finds one of us not to be depended on to do -our work every day, he very soon gets somebody in her place that is; -which perhaps is one reason why young women never care to settle down -to our life. Altogether, our work ain't so very hard; and if we do -have to keep at it for a many hours at a stretch, it's all in the open -air, which is a good deal better than being shut up in the walls of a -factory; and if we are anyways steady and careful, we can always make -sure of a pretty good living. So that you see, sir, there's many as is -worse off than us poor garden-women.' - - - - -SEA-SPOIL. - - -Somewhat more than a year ago, we called attention to the changes which -are to be perceived in the relations of land and water; the action -of rivers on the land, and the influence of delta-lands in restoring -land, to the earth, being noted in the article alluded to; whilst the -destructive action of the sea on many points of the coast was also -detailed. In the present instance we purpose to examine a few of the -more typical cases of sea-action viewed in its destructive effect upon -the land, and also some aspects of earth-movements which undoubtedly -favour the destructive power of the ocean. - -As regards these destructive powers, much depends of course on the -nature of the rock-formations which lie next the sea. A hard formation -will, _cæteris paribus_, resist the attack of the waves to a greater -extent than a deposit of soft nature; and the varying nature of -the coast-lines of a country determines to a very great extent the -regularity or irregularity of the sea's action. A well-known example -of a case in which the ocean has acquired over the land an immense -advantage in respect of the softness of the formations which favoured -its inroad, is found on the Kentish coast. Visitors to Margate and -Ramsgate, or voyagers around the south-east corner of our island, -know the ancient church of Reculver--or the 'Reculvers' as it is now -named--as a familiar landmark. Its two weather-beaten towers and the -dismantled edifice are the best known objects amongst the views of the -Kentish coast; and to both geologist and antiquary the 'Reculvers' -present an object of engrossing interest. In the reign of Henry -VIII. the church was one mile distant from the sea; and even in 1781 -a very considerable space of ground intervened between the church and -the coast-line--so considerable indeed, that several houses and a -churchyard of tolerable size existed thereupon. In 1834 the sea had -made such progress in the work of spoliation, that the intervening -ground had disappeared, and the 'Reculvers' appeared to exist on the -verge at once of the cliff and of destruction. An artificial breakwater -has, however, saved the structure; but the sacred edifice has been -dismantled, and its towers used as marine watch-houses. The surrounding -strata are of singularly soft nature, and hence the rapidity with which -the eroding action of the waves has proceeded. - -An equally instructive case of the destructive action of the sea is -afforded by the history of the parish of Eccles in the county of -Norfolk. Prior to the accession of James VI. to the English crown -the parish was a fairly populous one. At that date, however, the -inhabitants petitioned the king for a reduction of taxes, basing -their request on the ground that more than three hundred acres of -their land had been swept away by the sea. The king's reply was short -but characteristic. He dismissed the petition with the remark, that -the people of Eccles should be thankful that the sea had been so -merciful. Since the time of the niggardly sovereign just mentioned, -Eccles has not been spared by the sea. Acres upon acres have been -swallowed up by the insatiable waves, and as Sir Charles Lyell informs -us, hills of blown sand--forming the characteristic _sand-dunes_ of -the geologist--occupy the place where the houses of King James's -petitioners were situated. The spire of the parish church, in one -drawing, is indeed depicted as projecting from amongst the surrounding -sand-dunes, which the wind, as if in league with the ocean, has blown -in upon this luckless coast. - -The comparison of old maps of counties bordering on the sea with modern -charts, affords a striking and clear idea of the rate and extent of -this work of destruction. No better illustration can be cited of the -ravages of the ocean than that exhibited in maps of the Yorkshire -coast-lines, and particularly in the district lying between Flamborough -Head and the mouth of the Humber. Whilst the district between the Wash -in Lincolnshire and the estuary of the Thames shews an equally great -amount of destructive change. Three feet per annum is said to be no -uncommon rate for soft strata in these localities to be carried away; -and the geologist may point to the famous Goodwin Sands--notorious -alike in ancient and modern history--as another example of the results -of sea-action, and of the wear and tear exercised by the mighty deep. -The contemplation of such actions fits us in a singularly apt manner -for the realisation of the full force and meaning of the Laureate's -words: - - There rolls the deep where grew the tree. - O Earth, what changes hast thou seen! - -It is highly important, however, to note that the sea receives aid of -no ordinary kind in its acts of spoliation by the operation of certain -forces affecting the land itself. Land frequently disappears from sight -beneath the surface of the sea by a process of subsidence or sinking. -We must therefore clearly distinguish between the land which the sea -literally takes by its own act, and that which becomes its property -through this curious subsidence and sinking of the earth's crust. No -doubt the result is practically the same in each case; the sea being -in either instance the gainer, and the land the loser. But the sinking -of land being a phenomenon less familiar to the ordinary reader, we -venture to note a few of its more prominent aspects. - -A primary consideration to which it is needful to direct attention -consists in the due appreciation of the fact that the land and not the -sea is to be here credited with the action under discussion. When a -considerable part of a coast-line formerly existing above tide-marks is -found to gradually sink below the sea-level, the observer is probably -apt to assume that the sea has simply altered its level. The idea of -the sea being a constantly changing body is so widely entertained, -and that of the land being a solid and immovable portion of the -constitution of the earth, is also so deeply rooted in the popular -mind, that it may take some little thinking to throw on the land the -burden of the change and alteration. It is nevertheless a fact that -the great body of water we name the ocean in reality obeys the laws -we see exemplified in the disposition of the water contained in a -cup or bowl. The water of the sea thus maintains the same level, and -is no more subject to violent and permanent alterations than is the -water in the cup or bowl. Hence when part of a coast-line appears to -become submerged, we must credit the land with being the seat of the -change, seeing that the sea must be regarded as stable, unless indeed -it could be shewn that the level of the sea had undergone a similar -change on all the coasts it touches. Thus if the southern coast of -England were found to have been depressed say to the extent of six -feet, we must credit the land with the change, unless we could shew -that the sea-level on the opposite or French coast had also changed. -Now the alterations of land are mostly local or confined to limited -areas, and are not seen in other lands bounded by the same sea or ocean -as the altered portion. Hence that the land must be regarded as the -unstable and the sea as the stable element, has come to be regarded as -a fundamental axiom of geology. - -When, therefore, the works of man--such as piers, harbours, and -dwellings--become the spoil of the sea, the action has either been -one effected by the force of the waves without any change of level -of the land, or one in which land has simply subsided independently -of the destructive action of the sea. In the extreme south of Sweden -this action of land-subsidence is at present proceeding at a rate -which has been determined by observations conducted for the past -century and a half or more. The lower streets of many Swedish sea-port -towns have thus been under water for many years, and even streets -originally situated far above the water-level have been rendered up -as prey to the sea by this mysterious sinking of land. Linnæus (as -on a former occasion we remarked) in 1749 marked the exact site and -position of a certain stone. In 1836 this stone was found to be nearer -the water's edge by one hundred feet than when the great naturalist -had observed it; the subsidence having proceeded at this rate and -degree in eighty-seven years. The earliest Moravian missionaries in -Greenland had frequently to shift the position of the poles to which -they moored their boats, owing to the subsidence of land carrying -their poles seawards, as it were, by the inflow of the sea over what -was once dry land. On the coasts of Devon and Cornwall the observer -may detect numerous stumps of trees--still fixed by their roots in the -soil in which they grew--existing under water; the site being that -of an old forest which was submerged by the sinking of the land, and -which has become converted into the spoil and possession of the sea. -Even the long arm of the sea--the 'loch' of the Scotch and the 'fjord' -of Norway--which seen in the outline of a map, or in all its natural -beauty, imparts a character of its own to the scenery of a country, -exists to the eye of the geologist simply as a submerged valley, whose -sides were once 'with verdure clad,' and on whose fertile slopes -trees grew in luxuriant plenty. The subsidence of the land has simply -permitted its place to be occupied by water, and the vessel may sail -for miles over what was once a fertile valley. - -Occasionally the fluctuations of land may be exemplified to an extent -which could hardly be expected, a fact well illustrated by the case of -the Temple of Jupiter Serapis at Puzzuoli on the Bay of Naples. This -temple, now in ruins, dates from a very ancient period, three marble -pillars remaining to mark the extent of what was once a magnificent -pile of buildings. Half-way up these pillars the marks of boring -shell-fish are seen; some burrows formed by these molluscs still -containing the shells by means of which they were excavated. At the -present time, the sea-level is at the very base of the pillars, or -exists even below that site. Hence arises the natural question--'How -did the shell-fish gain access to the pillars, to burrow into them -in the manner described?' Dismissing as an irrelevant and impossible -idea that of the molluscs being able to ascend the dry pillars, two -suppositions remain. Either the pillars and temple must have gone -down to the sea through the subsidence of the land, or the sea must -have come up to the pillars. If the latter theory be entertained, the -sea-level must be regarded as having of necessity altered its level -all along the Bay of Naples and along all the Mediterranean coasts. -And as this inundation would have occurred within the historic period, -we would expect not only to have had some record preserved to us of -the calamity, but we should also have been able to point to distinct -and ineffaceable traces of sea-action on the adjoining coasts. There -is, however, no basis whatever for this supposition. No evidence -is forthcoming that any such rise of the sea ever took place; and -hence we are forced to conclude that the subsidence or sinking of -the land contains the only rational explanation of the phenomena. We -had thus a local sinking of land taking place at Puzzuoli. The old -temple was gradually submerged; its pillars were buried beneath the -waters of the sea, and the boring molluscs of the adjacent sea-bed -fixed on the pillars as a habitation, and bored their way into the -stone. Then a second geological change supervened. The action of -subsidence was exchanged for one of elevation; and the temple and -its pillars gradually arose from the sea, and attained their present -level; whilst the stone-boring shell-fish were left to die in their -homes. The surrounding neighbourhood--that of Vesuvius--is the scene -of constant change and alteration in land-level; and the incident is -worth recording, if only to shew how the observation of the apparently -trifling labours of shell-fish serves to substantiate a grave and -important chapter in the history of the earth. - -The statistics of wrecks and of the amount of human property which have -fallen a prey to the 'sounding main' may thus be shewn to be not only -paralleled but vastly exceeded in importance and extent by the records -of the geologist, when he endeavours to compute the losses of the land -or the gains of the sea. But on the other hand, the man of science -asks us to reflect on the fact that the matter stolen from us by the -sea is undergoing a process of redistribution and reconstruction. The -fair acres of which we have been despoiled, will make their appearance -in some other form and fashion as the land of the future; just indeed -as the present land represents the consolidated sea-spoil of the past, -which by a process of elevation has been raised from the sea-depths to -constitute the existing order of the earth. Waste and repair are simply -the two sides of the geological medal, and exist at the poles of a -circle of ceaseless natural change. So that, if it be true that the sea -reigns where the land once rose in all its majesty, as the Laureate has -told us, no less certain is it that--to conclude with his lines-- - - There where the long street roars, hath been - The stillness of the central sea. - -Thus the subject of sea-spoil, like many another scientific study, -opens up before us a veritable chapter of romance, which should possess -the greater charm and interest, because it is so true. - - - - -THE ADMIRAL'S SECOND WIFE. - - -CHAPTER IV.--LAURA BROUGHT TO TASK. - -The Admiral says 'good-night' to the last of his guests; then he turns -to his daughter, who is evidently preparing for a speedy retreat. - -'Don't run away yet, Laura; we keep early hours at Government House, -but it is not very late yet.' - -Rather reluctantly, Mrs Best obeys. She knows perfectly well why her -father wishes her to remain, and she shrewdly suspects what subject -of conversation he is likely to introduce. Now that she has had her -triumph, by carrying out a pet plan with regard to Katie, that very -success makes her uneasy, for she knows she will be called to account. -However, she resolves to be brave, and at once leads the way to the -music-room. The servants have already put out most of the lights, but -here the wax-candles are throwing lustre over scattered music and -deserted seats. Laura gathers up some of the songs, wondering when -her father will begin, and how the attack will open. She knows it is -coming, for he is restlessly pacing to and fro the room with that -quarter-deck march of his, that betokens an uneasy mind. - -'Why were the Greys not here this evening, Laura?' - -She smooths out the leaves of an Italian duet, lays it on the -music-stand, and replies with apparent indifference: 'Because they were -not invited, papa.' - -'Why not? I gave you the list, and I'm certain their names were down. -Why did you omit them?' - -'Is it always necessary to invite the same people over and over again? -The Greys have been at every party that has taken place since I came -here to stay.' - -'Had you any _particular_ reason for leaving them out, Laura?' asks the -Admiral, turning round quickly, as he notes his daughter's slightly -scornful tone of voice. - -For a moment Mrs Best is undecided. Perhaps a slight meaningless excuse -will do. But only for a passing second does she think thus. Her frank -loyal nature asserts itself, and she says in a quick earnest manner, -with her eyes a little lowered, her cheeks a little flushed: 'I had a -good reason, papa. Kate Grey makes herself far too much at home here. -One would imagine she has some special privilege in this house.' - -'Well, and I am always glad to see her.' - -'She knows that, and presumes on the knowledge. People seeing her so -much at home at Government House, are beginning to talk in a most -unpleasant manner.' - -'What do they say, Laura?' - -'They say you mean to make her your second wife. O papa, surely, -_surely_ you will never do that! A girl so selfish, so ambitious, so -fond of admiration, so, so'---- - -'Stop, Laura! The category of faults you lay to poor Katie's charge is -surely long enough. So people say I mean to make her my second wife, do -they?' - -A flush passes over the Admiral's face, and mounts to his brow. A -quick throb rises at his heart, as for the first time he hears Katie's -name coupled with his own. Till this moment, his thoughts about her -have been vague and unsettled. He admires her very much--more than any -other lady he knows; but the idea of making her an offer of marriage -has never seriously entered his head. But now, his daughter's very -cautions, her very reports of the world's gossip, shadow forth to -him that a marriage between him and Miss Grey may not be so very -preposterous after all, not such utter madness as he himself would have -called it a few months ago. - -Laura, seated on a music-stool, her hands clasped before her, and her -eyes fixed on her father's face, reads its meaning at once; and as a -brave, a loving, and a fearless daughter, she will not shrink from the -duty she believes is required of her now. 'Dear papa,' she exclaims, -'let me entreat you not to risk your future happiness! Kate Grey would -never make you a good wife. She cares far too much for herself ever to -study the true interests of any other person.' - -'Why are you so bitter against Miss Grey?' - -'I am not bitter. I only tell the real sad truth. Don't let her come -to rule in your house; don't let her rob me of my father's love.' - -Sir Herbert draws near his daughter, and looks tenderly down at her -flushed face and moistened eyes. 'Be reasonable, my child! No one can -ever rob you of my love; but' (here he pauses, as though hesitating how -to word his meaning--adding composedly enough) 'should I ever marry -Miss Grey or any other lady, you must not be prejudiced against my -choice, Laura. My marriage can never injure you in the least. Remember, -your poor mother's fortune was all settled on you before you married -Robert Best.' - -'I am not thinking of money, papa. Mere money considerations do not -influence me in the least.' - -'Possibly not. But let me allude to the subject once more while we are -talking. Robert has left you mistress of his fine estate. You have -duties and responsibilities that separate you almost entirely from me -now. Is not that the case?' - -'Yes. I wish I could be more with you.' - -'You cannot, Laura, without neglecting your own interests. Therefore -I am at times lonely--very lonely in the midst of surrounding society -and occupation. My house needs a head. My heart yearns sometimes for -congenial companionship. Don't grudge me happiness, Laura, if I can see -my way towards gaining it.' - -'I hope and pray every possible happiness may be yours, papa; but don't -look to Katie Grey for such a thing. She would marry any one to obtain -position and wealth.' - -Sir Herbert turns away, and walks to the end of the room; but he soon -comes back again, and sees his daughter watching him with eyes that are -misty and tearful. - -'I am thinking of my own precious mother. Oh, how different she was -from this girl! Miss Grey is all unworthy to take her place.' - -In her earnestness, Mrs Best has risen from the music-stool, and stands -before her father with great tears coursing down her cheeks. She raises -her clasped hands to him in the most imploring of all attitudes. The -snowy crispy dress with its white folds gives her a shadowy, almost -ghost-like look; and as her pathetic entreating face turns to the -Admiral, it almost seems to him as though the soul of her mother is -appealing to him through Laura's eyes. Never has the likeness struck -him so much. It is as though his beloved Bess had come from the grave -to bid him beware. - -The daughter sees the impression she has made, and like many another, -presumes too much on her success, and goes a step too far. Had she -stopped at this point, perhaps her father would have given her the -promise she requires, that he will not marry Kate Grey. But Laura wipes -away her tears, and exclaims: 'You are coming round to my views, papa! -You are beginning to see how unfit this Katie is to be your wife. Miss -Grimshaw quite agrees with me about her true character.' - -Sir Herbert steps back--draws himself up to his full height. 'And what -in the world does Miss Grimshaw know about the matter?' - -'She has great powers of discernment. Indeed it was she who first -raised my suspicions, and set me to watch Katie's manœuvres.' - -'Very kind of her! I ought to be particularly grateful for her -surveillance!' - -A cloud gathers on the Admiral's brow; but Laura, unwarned, goes on: -'Adelaide Grimshaw is _all_ kindness. O papa, I wish you would fix on -_her_! She would fill the position of mistress to your household with -tact and taste, and would make you an excellent wife.' - -'Thank you for your suggestion, Laura; but be assured if ever I do -marry, Miss Grimshaw will not be my choice.' - -He shudders as memory recalls to his mind the lank figure of the very -elderly lady his daughter commends to his notice. He recalls the faded -face, the thin wiry curls, the lymphatic eyes, the bleating plausible -voice, with which, in the calmest manner, she is wont to gossip over -the frailties of her neighbours, and pass hard judgments on those who -are younger and more attractive than herself. Then his thoughts revert -to Katherine Grey. Whatever her faults may be, fortunately they are -all the very opposite of Miss Grimshaw's: mind and body are altogether -formed in a very different mould. After this, the conversation comes -to a close, and father and daughter separate--she to lament over the -Admiral's infatuation; he to wander for an hour or two more through the -dimly lighted empty suite of rooms. - -Laura's words have moved him strangely. His pulse quickens as he -remembers that what has been to him a half-formed purpose, a whispered -secret, is already the town's talk, and that everybody is watching to -see what will come next. - -Has Katie herself heard of these reports, and begun to trace out the -shadow of possible coming events? Would she be very much surprised if -he tried to give these airy rumours a solid foundation? - -Such is the train of thought which floats through Sir Herbert's mind -long after the great house is closed for the night, and left apparently -to sleep and silence. He hears the measured tramp of the sentry on the -cold damp pavement outside; the distant sound of the ships' bells in -the harbour, as it is borne in by the wintry blast; and the musical -peals from the church steeples that chime the small morning hours; -but the question still rings its changes in his mind and finds no -satisfactory answer. - - -CHAPTER V.--THE QUESTION ANSWERED. - -The next morning Katie takes up her position at her father's -writing-table. She has a letter to answer--a very confidential one -from her friend and confidant, Liddy Delmere--and she feels bound to -return confidence for confidence. Ere the epistle is finished, she -starts up and thrusts it into her desk. Her eyes have been constantly -wandering from the paper to the cold slippery streets, where people are -jostling against each other as they make their way through the showers -of falling sleet and gusts of rough wind. Surely no one would venture -out except in a case of absolute necessity; yet the girl evidently -expects _some one_; and by the rapid closing of her desk, no doubt the -'somebody' is in sight. - -A tall upright figure may be observed emerging from the crowds of -passers-by; an officer, by the gold buttons on his rough outside coat. -Guiding his umbrella skilfully, Sir Herbert walks quickly on, and soon -Katie hears his well-known knock at the door, and his well-known step -in the hall, as he takes his way to her father's library downstairs. - -'He will come up here presently with some apology to me, or I'm much -mistaken,' muses Kate, as she takes a swift look at herself in the -glass; and ere long the door is thrown open, and Sir Herbert Dillworth -announced. He glances quickly round the room, and this is what he sees: -a pretty, well-harmonised interior, a blending of soft warm colours, -and a blazing fire in the grate, that reflects itself in the polished -steel surrounding it. And Kate Grey, the brightest point of the whole -scene, is sitting beside the writing-table, and looking up with a smile -to greet him. She wears a morning dress of ruby Cashmere, and a single -knot of the same colour in the thick rolls of her dark hair. There is -not a shadow of resentment in those lustrous eyes as she holds out -her hand, frankly and pleasantly, to her visitor. Feeling perfectly -self-possessed herself, she owns to a degree of satisfaction as she -notices how disturbed Sir Herbert looks. The fact is his daughter's -words are still ringing in his memory--'People say you mean to make her -your second wife'--and he is wondering what Katie herself would say on -such a subject. Will she ignore the dreary barrier of years that lies -between them? Will she forget that he has gone some distance farther -on in life's journey, while she is in the very prime and flush of -girlhood? These thoughts flash through his mind, and make him appear -nervous and absent as he begins to talk about last night's party. But -his mind is made up. - -'We missed _you_, Miss Grey. Will you pardon us that you had no -invitation? My daughter is not much accustomed to sending them out.' - -'Please, don't mention it, Sir Herbert. I am very glad to go to -Government House when I'm wanted there; but one cannot always be -invited, you know.' - -'But I like you always to come. The omission shall not happen again. We -had a wretchedly stupid gathering. Spare me similar disappointments in -future, Miss Grey, by--by taking the right of arranging these matters -into your own hands.' - -The girl looks up inquiringly. Nothing can be more unsuspecting and -guileless than the questioning eyes that meet Sir Herbert's. - -'Will you _take_ the right, Katie? My life has grown strangely desolate -and lonely of late; will you cheer it with your presence? In short, -will you be my wife?' - -The question is asked now, eagerly and impassion'dly, and Miss Grey's -eyes droop under the Admiral's gaze. This vision has been dazzling her -mind so long; she has dreamt of it, thought of it; and now the offer -of marriage has really come! Though the triumph is making her heart -throb, she can hardly tell whether she is glad or sorry. But she does -not draw back. For the treasure of Sir Herbert's loyal affection, for -his true earnest love, she will give in exchange her youth and beauty. -She thinks the bargain a fair one, and wonders can anything more be -required. - -When Sir Herbert leaves his affianced wife, he goes down to her father, -to tell him of what he calls his 'good fortune.' - -'Yes; and mamma and Helen shall hear all about it from me. Won't they -be surprised!' adds the young lady with a short low laugh, as the -Admiral goes out of the room. She hears him close the library door, and -then says to herself with another little spasmodic laugh: 'Every one -will be surprised, as I am myself, to think how quickly it has all come -about. Last evening I was excluded from Government House, and now I -have promised to rule and reign there. Which has conquered--Laura Best -or I?' - - -CHAPTER VI.--FAMILY COUNSEL. - -Mr Grey's library is a curious little room, fitted up quite in his own -way. Maps cover the sides of the walls, and a large bookcase holds the -books, which are mostly nautical. Models of ships and steamers are on -various shelves, there is an astrolabe near the window, and a sextant -and some pattern guns on the table. Mr Grey is busy at the moment with -official papers; his nimble fingers are copying a 'General Memo.' with -wonderful rapidity. Hearing the stately step of his chief coming along -the passage, he naturally supposes the Admiral has returned to give -further directions about some orders ere long to be circulated amongst -the ships. So he glances up over his spectacles pen in hand. Great is -his surprise at seeing evident signs of agitation in Sir Herbert's -face, as he says in a low tone: 'Put aside your papers for an instant, -Grey. I want to consult you on quite another subject. I have come to -ask your consent to my marriage with your daughter Katie.' - -'Your marriage with my daughter, Sir Herbert!' and Mr Grey lets a huge -drop of ink splash on his 'General Memo.' in his surprise. - -'You seem astonished, Grey. Have you any objection to accept me as your -son-in-law?' - -'Pardon me, Sir Herbert, pardon my hesitation; but you startled me for -the moment. I am conscious of the honour you are doing us; but have you -considered how young and inexperienced Katie is? A mere girl, in fact. -She is but little used to the ways of the world; hardly wise enough to -hold the high position you offer her.' - -The Admiral smiles. 'I will take the risk of all that. Katie is -willing, and I am ready to marry her just as she is.' - -'Then I give my full sanction.' - -'Wish me joy, Grey. You don't say a word about that.' - -'I will wish you something better and deeper than mere joy, Sir -Herbert. I pray you may have true and unmixed happiness with my -daughter. May she prove a wife worthy of you, and may you never regret -your choice.' - -There is a tremble in Mr Grey's voice as he grasps the Admiral's hand -and ratifies the new bond sprung up so suddenly between them; and he -looks thoughtfully after Sir Herbert as he leaves the room. Surely -women are fickle, and his daughter Katie the most fickle of her sex! - -Only two months ago, Walter Reeves had come into that very same room -on the very same kind of mission. The same, but with a difference. -He has not actually proposed for Katie, but had asked permission to -visit at the house with that intention, in the event of his love being -reciprocated. And Katie knows all this, and up to the present has -received Walter's attentions, and seemed to take them as her right. -But now all this is set aside, and a man nearly as old as her father -himself has stepped in and won the girl as a willing prize. Well may -the old sailor marvel! Things have changed since the days 'long ago,' -when _he_ wooed his wife, and waited nine long years for her because he -could not afford to marry sooner. His true old-fashioned love has but -intensified as years have sped on; the trials of life have but drawn -the wedded pair closer to each other. Will this be the experience of -Katie and the Admiral? - -Worthy Mr Grey cannot settle that point; so he goes up-stairs to hear -what Katie herself has to say on the subject. - -Miss Grey lingers in the drawing-room after the Admiral has gone. There -seems something strangely sad and vague and solemn in the whole affair, -now it has gone so far; and when her mother comes into the room with -Helen leaning on her arm, she exclaims at once, with glowing cheeks and -flashing eyes and defiant tone: 'Wish me joy, mother, and Helen! I am -going to be married!' - -'I'm glad it is settled at last, Katie; and I hope you will be very -happy. Walter has had plenty of patience, I'm sure,' says Mrs Grey in -her quiet voice, as she settles Helen comfortably on the sofa and turns -round to give Katie a kiss of congratulation. - -But her daughter draws back with a look of annoyance. - -'Why do you talk of Walter? I am not going to marry _him_. My intended -husband's name stands far higher in the Navy List. I'm going to be -married to Admiral Sir Herbert Dillworth!' - -'Sir Herbert!' exclaim Helen and her mother together. - -'Yes. Why are you surprised?' - -'I'm sure we've good reason for surprise, considering all that has gone -on about Walter. Katie, Katie! what new fancy has hold of you now?' The -voice is Mrs Grey's, the tone one of reproach. - -Katie is growing angry. 'The fancy is no new one, mother. Had you not -all been very blind, you might have guessed what was coming long ago.' - -'Do you really love Sir Herbert?' asks Helen, with that deep-seeing -look of hers, that somehow always makes her elder sister a little in -awe of her. - -'I like him; the rest will come by-and-by; and I'm glad and proud of my -lot.' - -There is a ring in Katie's voice, as though she has flung down the -gauntlet of self-approval, and challenges any one to take it up and -contradict her. Her father is not the one to do this. He comes into -the room at the moment, hears Katie's asseveration, and feels as if -a world of doubt had rolled away from his mind. Considering his own -word 'his bond,' he judges his daughter by the same standard. 'That's -right, Katie, and sounds earnest. You may well be proud of your lot, -and of Sir Herbert too: there isn't a better, braver, more honourable -man alive; he's unselfish and high-principled to his heart's core. I've -served three commissions under him, and ought to know him well; and I'd -rather see a child of mine lying in her grave, than that she should -bring discredit on his name. Kiss me, my girl! I wish you happiness. -Well may you be proud of our Admiral!' - -Katie receives the kiss just a little impatiently; she believes she has -won 'high stakes,' and does not relish any doubts on the subject. - - - - -THE CROCODILE AND GAVIAL. - - -Two species of crocodile inhabit our Indian rivers, and both are -especially numerous in such streams as the Ganges and its tributaries, -the Berhampooter, and many others. Sir Emerson Tennent, in his _Natural -History of Ceylon_, points out an error which Anglo-Indians and -others are often given to--namely, of applying the term _alligator_ -to animals which are in reality _crocodiles_. There are no alligators -in the Indian peninsula. The true alligator is the hideous cayman of -South America, and differs in one or two important respects from the -crocodile of the Nile and Ganges. - -The first and by far the most widely distributed of the two saurians -inhabiting our Indian rivers is the common crocodile, exactly similar -to the animal frequenting the Nile and other streams of Northern -Africa, and known throughout Bengal by its Hindustani title of -'Mugger.' The second species is the Gavial or Gurryal (_Gavialis -Gangeticus_). This reptile is, I believe, only found in Hindustan, and -is indigenous to the Ganges; hence its specific title. - -The habits of the two creatures are in general very similar, but yet -differ in one or two important points. The mugger often grows to an -enormous size, not unfrequently reaching twenty feet in length, and -is thick built in proportion. The limbs are short, feet palmated, the -fore-feet furnished with five, the hind with four toes. The head (which -in aspect is extremely hideous) is broad and wedge-shaped, the muzzle -rather narrow, the eyes small, deep set, and of a villainous glassy -green hue. The jaws when shut lock as closely and firmly together as a -vice. The teeth are of a formidable description, varying much in size -and length. When the mouth is closed, the tusks in the extremity of the -lower jaw pass completely through and often project above the tip of -the upper. The body is incased with scaly armour-plates, very thick and -massive on the back, but to a less extent on the sides of the body. The -reptile breathes through its nostrils, which are situated near the tip -of the snout. By this wonderful provision of nature, the crocodile is -enabled to lie in wait for its prey with the whole of its body, except -the nostrils, concealed beneath the surface of the water. - -The gavial much resembles the mugger in general structure (though the -body is not usually so thickly built), with one notable exception, and -that is the totally different shape and character of the snout. The -jaws of the gavial are long, straight, and narrow; the teeth, which -are regular, wide apart from one another, and even, are of a far less -formidable description than those of the common crocodile. They much -resemble in general appearance the rows of jagged teeth which garnish -the edges of the upper jaw of the saw-fish. The snout is often several -feet in length, and there is a peculiar knob or protuberance at the -tip; and the nostrils, as in the other species, are situated near the -extremity. - -The gavial has been described by some writers as 'the scourge of the -Ganges' and a 'ferocious animal;' but I venture to say that this is a -highly exaggerated if not an altogether erroneous statement. It is -possible that occasionally--though I am convinced _very rarely_--the -gavial may seize a human being; but the reptile is essentially a -fish-eater, and unlike the mugger, is little to be dreaded by the -swimmer or bather. I have frequently, when strolling along the banks -of our Indian rivers, observed the head of a gavial momentarily raised -above the surface of the water in the act of swallowing some large -fish held transversely across its jaws, the long beak and rows of -sharp teeth with which nature has furnished it, greatly assisting the -creature in snapping up such slippery prey. - -Crocodiles frequent the wide open channels and reaches of our large -Indian rivers, especially in the neighbourhood of large towns, such -as Dinapore, Allahabad, or Benares. In such resorts, whole families -of both gavials and muggers may be seen lying together side by side -on points of sand or low mud islands left dry by the current of the -stream; they delight to bask in the scorching rays of the mid-day sun. - -The animals always lie asleep close to the margin, and generally with -their heads pointing away from the water. They are extremely watchful; -and on being alarmed by the near approach of some boat gliding past or -human beings walking along the bank, after contemplating the objects -of their suspicion for a short space of time, they one after another -awkwardly wheel round, and with a splash and a flounder speedily vanish -beneath the surface of the water, to reappear again so soon as the -cause of their alarm has passed. - -Though hideous and repulsive in appearance, these reptiles nevertheless -fulfil a most useful office as scavengers. In the neighbourhood of -large towns on the banks of the Ganges, hundreds of dead bodies are -daily cast into the holy river by the Hindus; and in a tropical -climate like India, were it not for crocodiles, turtles, and vultures -assembling and devouring the corpses, speedily some dreadful plague -would break out and spread death around. - -Judging from the accounts of travellers, the crocodiles inhabiting the -African continent must be far more dangerous than their confrères of -Asia; for though we sometimes hear of muggers taking to man-eating, -especially in Lower Bengal and parts of Assam, yet such practices are -not the rule, as is generally supposed. - -I have, however, seen patches of water near the foot of ghats or -flights of steps fenced round with a close and strong hedge of bamboo -stakes, driven firmly into the river-bed, for the purpose of protecting -bathers or women drawing water from the assaults of man-eating -crocodiles; and it is a dangerous practice at all times to bathe in -pools frequented by such monsters. Cows, horses, sheep, goats, and -dogs, besides the numerous wild inhabitants of the jungle, all form a -prey of the mugger. The cunning animal, well acquainted with some spot -where, towards sunset, flocks and herds, after the heat of the day has -passed, are in the habit of drinking, there lies in wait concealed amid -the sedge bordering the margin. Presently some unlucky victim in the -shape of a poor bullock parched with thirst, comes hurrying down the -bank and eagerly approaches the water; but hardly has its mouth reached -the surface, when the blood-thirsty crocodile seizes it by the nose; -and if once successful in securing a firm grip, the chances are, that -unless the herdsman is at hand to render assistance, the unfortunate -bullock, in spite of struggling desperately to free itself, is soon -dragged down on to its knees, and later beneath the surface of the pool. - -It has been asserted that tigers ere now have been seized, and -after a hard fight, overpowered by the crocodile. Possibly this may -occasionally happen; but I imagine such an occurrence to be extremely -rare; and my impression is, that such redoubtable champions, each -capable of inflicting severe punishment on his opponent, would avoid -rather than risk coming to blows. - -It is generally imagined that the plated coat of mail covering the -crocodile's body renders the animal invulnerable to bullets. Such may -have been the case in the days of brown-bess; but a spinning conical -ball fired from a Martini-Henry or other grooved weapon of the present -day, will not only readily pierce, but even pass completely through the -body of the largest crocodile. - -It is the extraordinary tenacity of life with which all the lizard -family are endowed, that has in a great measure given rise to -this notion of their invulnerability; for unless shot through the -head, neck, heart, or such-like vital part, the crocodile, even -when desperately wounded by a bullet through the body, will almost -invariably gain the water, only shortly afterwards to sink dead to the -bottom, to be devoured by some of its cannibal relations. - -Near a station where I happened to be quartered for many years in -Central India, there was a large lake where crocodiles were known -yearly to breed. After some trouble, I procured two mugger's eggs from -some fishermen who frequented the spot. They were of an oval shape, -dirty white colour and rough surface. The female crocodile about the -month of May, having scraped a hole with her feet in the sand or mud of -some dry island, deposits her eggs therein, and carefully covers them -up, leaving the heat of the sun to hatch out her progeny. Meanwhile she -hovers about the spot, till at length the thin layer of sand covering -the eggs upheaves, the young issue forth, and escorted by the mother, -take to their natural element, the water. - - J. H. B. - - - - -SHAMROCK LEAVES. - -A WEDDING. - - -At Irish country weddings of the lower orders, the priest is paid -by voluntary contributions of the wedding guests. The marriage is -generally celebrated in the evening, and is followed, especially among -the farming classes, by a grand festivity, to which his "Riverince" is -always invited. After supper, when the hearts of the company are merry -with corned beef and greens, roast goose, ham, and whisky-punch, the -hat goes round. - -Honor Malone was the prettiest girl in the barony; and a lucky boy on -his marriage day was the bridegroom; albeit on the occasion he looked -very ill at ease in a stiff, shiny, brand-new, tight-fitting suit of -wedding clothes. Lucky, for in addition to her good looks, the bride -had fifty pounds to her fortune and three fine cows. - -Very pretty and modest she looked seated beside the priest, blushing -a great deal, and wincing not a little at his Reverence's somewhat -broad jokes. And most becoming was the 'white frock' in which she -was attired; a many-skirted garment, resplendent with 'bow-knots' and -trimmings of white satin ribbons. - -'As good as new,' my lady's-maid at the Castle, from whom she had -bought it, had assured her. 'Made by the grandest French dressmaker in -all London, and worn at only a couple of balls; her young ladies were -so cruel particular, and couldn't abide the suspicion of a crush or a -soil on their gowns.' - -In the midst of his jokes and his jollity (and with an eye to future -dues, nowhere is a priest half so good-humoured as at a wedding), while -apparently absorbed in attention to the pretty bride, whose health had -just been drunk in a steaming tumbler, Father Murphy perceived with his -business eye that preparations were being made for sending round the -plate in his behalf. - -The stir began at the end of the table where the 'sthrong farmers' -mustered thickest. A goodly set they were, in their large heavy -greatcoats of substantial frieze, corduroy knee-breeches, and bright -blue stockings; their comely dames wearing the capacious blue or -scarlet cloth cloak with silk-lined hood, which, like the greatcoat of -the men, is an indispensable article in the gala toilet of their class, -even in the dog-days. - -In the midst of the group was Jim Ryan. Now this Jim Ryan was the sworn -friend and adherent of Father Murphy; he would have gone through fire -and water to serve his Reverence. He was rather a small man in the -parish as regarded worldly goods, having neither snug holding nor dairy -farm; but he was highly popular, being considered a 'dhroll boy' and -good company. - -When the proceedings of this devoted follower met the priest's -business eye before alluded to, they caused considerable surprise to -that intelligent organ, insomuch as greatly to damage a very pretty -compliment his Reverence was in the act of making to the bride. - -First Jim Ryan took hold of the collecting plate, and seemed about to -carry it round. Then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he stopped -short, and dashed it down on the table with a clatter and a bang that -made Mrs Malone wince, for it was one of her best china set. - -Jim's next proceeding was to try all his pockets. He dived into his -waistcoat, breeches, and swallow-tailed coat receptacles, one after -another, but without finding what he wanted. At last, after much -hunting and shaking, and many grimaces of disappointment, he pounced on -the object of his search, and drew carefully from some unknown depths a -large tattered leather pocket-book. - -By this time every one's attention was fixed upon him. Deliberately -he opened the book, and peering inside--having first ascertained by -a covert glance around that the company were observing--he extracted -from it a bank-note. This, when unfolded, he spread out and flattened -ostentatiously on the table, so that all who looked might read 'Ten -Pounds' inscribed upon it! - -A flutter of astonishment ran through the guests, not unmixed with -signs of dismay among the richer portion. Fat pocket-books that a few -moments before were being pompously produced by their owners, were -stealthily thrust back again. A sudden pause was followed by a great -whispering and consulting among the farmers. Anxious and meaning -looks were bestowed on the latter by their wives, to say nothing of -expressive nudges, and digs into conjugal ribs where practicable. For -there was always much rivalry in these offerings. Misther Hennessy, who -drove his family to mass every Sunday in his own jaunting car, would -scorn to give less than Misther Welsh; though _he_ too was a 'warm' -man, and always got top price for his butter at Limerick market. And -now to be outdone by Jim Ryan! To proffer his Reverence five pounds, -when the likes of him was giving ten! It was not to be thought of! So -the result, after Jim had deposited his note with a complacent flourish -on the plate, and had gone his rounds with the latter, was the largest -collection that had ever gladdened the heart or filled the pockets of -Father Murphy. - -As the priest was leaving the place, Jim came up to him and laid his -hand on the horse's bridle: 'A good turn I done yer Riverince this -night, didn't I? Such a mort of notes an' silver an' coppers I niver -laid eyes on! I thought the plate would be bruk in two halves with the -weight. An' now'--in a whisper, and looking round to see there was no -one listening--'where's my tin pound note back for me?' - -'Your ten pound note, man! What do you mean by asking for it? Is it to -give you back part of my dues, you want? - -'Ah then now, Father Murphy dear, sure an' sure you niver was so -innocent as to think that blessed note was mine! Where upon the face -of the living earth would a poor boy like me get such a sight of money -as that? Tin pounds! I borryed it, yer Riverince, for a schame; an' -a mighty good an' profitable schame it's turned out. Sure I knew the -sight of it would draw the coin out of all their pockets; an' by the -powers! so it did.' A fact his Reverence could not deny, while--not -without interest--he refunded Jim's ingenious decoy-duck. - - - - -THE ITALIAN GRIST-TAX. - - -In our own favoured realms millers have their troubles, no doubt, -as well as other folk, but at anyrate they are not tormented with -a _grist-tax_; and indeed in these enlightened days we should have -thought that such an impost was unknown in all countries claiming to -have attained a high degree of civilisation. Mr Edward Herries, C.B., -late Her Majesty's Secretary of Legation at Rome, in the course of his -elaborate Report on the Financial System of Italy, has, however, shewn -us our mistake; and in tracing the history and present position of the -tax, he furnishes us with some curious particulars respecting it. - -As our readers will doubtless be struck with the anomaly of a powerful -government having recourse nowadays to indirect taxation to augment its -revenue, it may be well at the outset to cite a brief paragraph from Mr -Herries' Report, in order to shew how it happened that the grist-tax -came to be reimposed upon the people of Italy. - -Towards the close of the year 1865, he writes, M. Sella, then Minister -of Finance, having to meet a deficit estimated for 1866 at upwards of -two hundred and sixty-one million lire (say ten million four hundred -and fifty thousand pounds), and being compelled, he said, to have -recourse to indirect taxation for a large increase of revenue, urged -upon the Chamber of Deputies the revival of the grist-tax, which he -considered as fulfilling more completely than any other new impost that -could be found the essential conditions of great productiveness, wide -diffusion, and equal pressure on all parts of the kingdom. - -The impost seems to have made its first appearance in Sicily, where it -was a source of revenue during the Norman period, and there, no one -was allowed to carry corn to be ground without first obtaining, after -much delay, a permit, for which he had to pay the duty chargeable on -the grinding of the corn. The attestation of the officer in charge -of the mill was requisite for the removal of the flour, for which a -certain route was prescribed, and which was always to be accompanied -by the permit. The miller was not even allowed to keep the key of -his own mill, and was prohibited from grinding corn between sunset -and sunrise. The wants of the population, however, sometimes made it -necessary to relax this rule; and in such cases the miller (whose -family was never to remain in the mill with him) was securely locked -and barred in for the night, without any means of communicating with -the outer world, whatever might happen. This treatment, however, was -at length seen to be cruel; and permission was granted to any miller -exposed to imminent peril from fire, flood, or other calamity, to free -himself from nocturnal incarceration by breaking (if he could) through -the door, window, or roof. It does not seem to have been foreseen, -Mr Herries aptly remarks, that such a gracious concession might be -rendered nugatory by the strength of the barriers or the feebleness of -the miller! - -Up to 1842, the millers themselves were considered as responsible -fiscal agents; but after that time, the supervision of every mill was -intrusted to an official called a 'weigher' (_custode pesatore_); -but not being usually a very faithful guardian, bribery soon became -rampant. In the Ecclesiastical State, where the tax was farmed out to -contractors, the mode of its exaction was in many respects similar to -that existing in Sicily. By an edict of 1801, which deserves notice -as a legislative curiosity, a miller was liable to be sent to the -galleys, besides paying a heavy fine, for a variety of offences--such -as that of grinding corn not regularly consigned to him in the manner -prescribed; of receiving corn or sending out flour at night; and others -of similar enormity. In the district of the Agro Romano, all bread had -to be stamped; and the absence of the proper stamp exposed the guilty -baker to a fine of one hundred scudi and corporal punishment, or even -to slavery in the galleys. The inhabitants of this district were only -allowed to use bread baked within it, and they might be compelled to -declare where they got their bread. - -Though the tax was temporarily abolished in its last strongholds in the -year 1860, it was subsequently revived, until all the statutes relating -to the subject were finally consolidated in 1874. The tax, which must -now be paid to the miller at the time of grinding, is charged at the -rate of two lire (of about tenpence each) per hundred kilograms on -wheat; and one lira on maize, rye, oats, and barley. The miller pays -periodically to the collector of taxes a corresponding fixed charge -for every hundred revolutions of the millstone, to be ascertained by -an instrument called _contatore_, which is affixed to the shaft at the -cost of the government. The amount of this charge is determined for -every mill according to the quality and force of the machinery and the -mode of grinding. The miller may refuse the rate as first calculated; -in which case the revenue authorities have the power to employ an -instrument which will record the weight or volume of the corn ground; -or of collecting the tax directly by their own officers, or of farming -the tax. Should they not think fit to exercise such powers, the rate is -determined by experts. The impost, it is perhaps hardly necessary to -say, is an eminently unpopular one, and was only consented to under the -pressure of extreme necessity. - -The great difficulty in the way of the smooth working of the grist-tax -was the impossibility of procuring the mechanical means of control -contemplated by the law; and in point of fact, when it came into -operation no effective instrument was in existence. By the end of -August 1871, however, matters had changed, and no fewer than 78,250 -registering instruments were supplied, and by 1874 the greater number -of these _contatori_ were in active operation. The _contatore_, -however, does not give universal satisfaction; and Mr Herries thinks -that what is wanted to remove doubts as to fair treatment, is some -instrument capable of recording the weight or the quantity of wheat -ground. Best of all would be the abolition of the grist-tax; but in -a country where the mass of the people consume no articles of luxury -which can be taxed by revenue officers, and also from whom no direct -impost could be exacted, the continuation of the grist-tax seems to be -an absolute necessity. - - - - -SWEET LOVE AND I. - - - Sweet Love and I have strangers been - These many years, - So many years. - He came to me when Life was green - And free from fears, - These present fears. - - He came, and for a little space - My life was gladdened by his grace; - But soon he fled, and joy gave place - To grief and tears. - - 'O Love, come to me once again!' - My lone heart sighs, - So sadly sighs. - 'Recall thy fearless nature, then, - Sweet Love replies, - Softly replies. - - 'Thou canst not? Then I cannot be - The same that once I was to thee. - There's no room in the heart for me, - Where fears arise.' - - A. C. S. - - * * * * * - -Printed and Published by W. & R. 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