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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+POPULAR
+
+LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART
+
+Fifth Series
+
+ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
+
+CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)
+
+NO. 147.—VOL. III.      SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1886.      PRICE 1½_d._]
+
+
+
+
+THE MAORIS’ FIGHT FOR LIFE.
+
+BY A NEW ZEALANDER.
+
+
+An absorbing struggle is going on in New Zealand at present—a struggle
+of life and death to a gallant and interesting people. The Maoris are
+apparently making a last stand for existence. Like all savage peoples,
+they have hitherto been ‘melting away’ at the approach of the whites,
+until now it is believed they number barely forty thousand throughout
+the entire colony; whereas in 1835, before English colonisation had
+commenced in earnest, careful observers estimated that nearly two
+hundred thousand natives ranged the woods and navigated the rivers and
+seas of the colony. Captain Cook, probably less accurately, placed his
+estimate at four hundred thousand. Certain it is that from the time we
+have first known them, the Maoris, like the Kanakas of the South Sea
+Islands and the Red Indians of North America, have gone on steadily
+and even rapidly diminishing in numbers. Just now there is reason to
+hope that this process of extinction has received a check, and the race
+seems gathering together all its energies to make one last struggle for
+existence. Will it be successful?
+
+In the first place, let us glance at the causes leading to the
+extinction of the aboriginals of New Zealand. These have been very ably
+set forth in a paper read before the Wellington Philosophical Society
+by Dr Newman, President of the Society. This gentleman is of opinion
+that the Maoris were a disappearing race before the English came to
+New Zealand. One of the principal causes is the natural sterility of
+the people. While the birth-rate among the European inhabitants of
+New Zealand is the highest in the world, and while the prolificness
+of animal life generally in this fertile land is a matter of constant
+wonder to the naturalist, a birth in a Maori family is, as a rule, of
+less frequent occurrence than a death; and the absence of children in
+the native villages is absolutely startling to those who have just
+seen the troops of rosy-cheeked youngsters that swarm in the European
+towns. There are various causes for this unfruitfulness of the race;
+but the principal source assigned by the writer I have quoted is
+intermarrying, the Maoris being nearly always married either in their
+own or some nearly adjacent tribe. The rate of mortality, also, is
+considerably higher among Maoris than with Europeans, consumption
+being responsible for the greatest ravages in their ranks. The Maoris,
+who formerly lived in lofty, well-aired, and well-drained hill-forts,
+now dwell on the oozy soil of the valleys, where the air is stagnant
+and moisture-laden, while their _whares_ or huts are close and
+unventilated—forming, in fact, hotbeds of lung disease and rheumatism.
+
+Dr Ginders, the medical officer at the government sanatorium at
+Rotorua, which is situated in the middle of a large native district,
+gives, in a Report recently presented to parliament, a graphic and at
+the same time horrifying account of ‘How the Maoris live.’ Referring to
+their sleeping-huts, he says: ‘Being curious to know something of these
+hotbeds of disease, I entered one at seven A.M. before the occupants
+had turned out. I have no wish to repeat the experience. This was quite
+a small family affair, fifteen feet long by ten feet wide. It contained
+twenty individuals of both sexes and all ages, who had spent the
+night—say ten hours—in it. The cubic air-space per head was about such
+as would be afforded by a comfortable full-sized coffin. How they can
+exist under such circumstances is one of the mysteries of Maori nature.
+Fortunately for them, these sleeping-places are built of pervious
+material, through which the outer air must filter, and all the more
+rapidly from the fact of the great difference of temperature between
+the external and internal air.’
+
+After reading this extract, most people will be inclined to say that it
+is not necessary to look any further for the cause of the gradual dying
+out of the Maoris. It is some satisfaction to reflect that the imported
+diseases and vices are playing only a minor part in decimating the
+race. Of the diseases introduced by Europeans, typhoid and measles seem
+to have been the most destructive, especially the former. The only
+imported vice, according to Dr Newman, that has in the least degree
+helped to hasten the disappearance of the race is drunkenness. The
+mortality among children, from the neglect or ignorance of parents and
+the insanitary conditions in which they live, is appalling, and until
+something can be done to check it, any hope of preserving the race
+must of course be abandoned. The advent of Europeans has undoubtedly
+brought with it many causes likely to operate unfavourably on their
+dark-skinned brethren. Some of these have already been mentioned, drink
+unquestionably occupying a bad pre-eminence.
+
+There is also no doubt among medical men that a partial adoption
+of European habits and customs, accompanied by a retention of
+various features in their barbarous mode of living, is the cause
+of much sickness and even mortality. Dr Newman points out one very
+characteristic fact: formerly, when the natives entered their _whares_
+with their wet mats on, they flung them aside; now, when they get wet
+in their European clothing, they keep it on, thus laying the foundation
+of many diseases. On the other hand, civilisation has introduced
+undoubted benefits. For example, the Maoris formerly subsisted on
+fern-root and such hard fare, and found that difficult to get at
+times. Now, they have an abundance of wholesome food, and can live in
+comfort on the revenue derived from their lands, if they do not spend
+their money in debauchery. As the result of the labours of the West
+Coast Royal Commission, for instance, every native in the confiscated
+territory in the North Island who has any right to be there, now has
+an interest in some reserve or other which will provide him with a
+settled homestead and the means of maintenance, and in many cases
+a considerable pecuniary income besides. Naturally, in not a few
+instances these material advantages are demoralising to the Maoris,
+who, when able to live in independence and luxury, will not work.
+
+Many of them, however, especially on the east coast and in the
+north, are devoting themselves industriously to such occupations as
+sheep-farming, maize-planting, tobacco-growing, &c. I read, in the
+Reports of the native officers, that one tribe started farming with a
+flock of four thousand sheep, and divided the year’s profits, which
+actually amounted to seven hundred pounds. Another party of natives
+did better still at whale-fishing, securing spoil from the deep to the
+extent of two thousand six hundred pounds.
+
+Among all the elevating influences brought to bear upon the Maoris,
+the means of education appears to be the most promising; and if they
+succeed in avoiding the fate of extinction, to which so many savage
+tribes seem doomed when brought in contact with a higher civilisation,
+education will be the chief agent in bringing about the happy result.
+With the advance of education, it may reasonably be hoped that the
+Maoris—who are naturally a very receptive people—may be brought to see
+the evils of consanguineous marriages, to adopt more rational sanitary
+measures both as regards their children and themselves. At present,
+they have very erroneous and mischievous ideas of disease. When an
+epidemic of typhoid fever broke out among some of them recently, they
+were utterly regardless of the danger of infection, and ridiculed the
+idea of taking any precautionary measures to prevent the spread of the
+disease, saying it was not fever, but simply a Maori complaint brought
+on by _makutu_ or witchcraft. When a native is attacked by illness, he
+frequently succumbs through sheer fright. It may easily be imagined how
+these facts increase the mortality of the race, and what improvement
+may be effected in these respects by the advancement of education.
+
+It is satisfactory to note that the government are alive to the
+importance of the subject. According to a recent official Return, it
+appears that there were sixty-nine native schools in full working
+order, and over two thousand Maori children receiving the elements of
+a good English education. The great advantage of these schools, it
+has been very well pointed out, is not so much that the young people
+learn to speak the English language, but that they learn to appreciate
+our customs, to value time, and to gain a desire for improvement,
+both mental and social, which, doubtless, they will transmit to their
+descendants, who will then become fitted to hold a fair position in
+the future. The natives generally appear to be alive to these facts,
+and not only send their children to the schools, but give sites for
+school-buildings, and show their interest in the movement in other
+ways. They elect their School Committees in the same way that the
+Europeans do, and on the whole do the work very well.
+
+The Blue Ribbon movement appears to have taken a singularly firm hold
+among the race. The so-called ‘king’ himself donned the badge with
+great ceremony at the solicitation of Sir George Grey, before leaving
+for England in 1884; and in every village are to be seen numbers of
+the young Maori ‘braves’ wearing the ‘bit of blue’ as among the most
+cherished of their decorations.
+
+The outlook, then, as regards the conflict in which the race is at
+present engaged, is so far satisfactory. The question will, however,
+naturally be asked, whether the beneficial effects of the educative
+process are permanent, or whether, after the Maoris leave school, they
+relapse into their old habits and customs. The savage nature, we know,
+is very apt to reassert itself. Miss Bird tells us how the Ainos of
+Japan educated at Tokiô relapsed into barbarism on returning to their
+own people, retaining nothing but a knowledge of the Japanese language.
+Another writer recounts how an Indian girl, one of the most orderly
+of the pupils at a lady’s school, has been known, on feeling herself
+aggrieved, to withdraw to her room, let down her back hair, paint her
+face, and howl. Something of the sort, it must be confessed, is not
+altogether unknown in New Zealand. I once went to see a Maori _haka_
+or dance, interesting in its way, but not more edifying than native
+dances usually are. To my amazement, I saw among the performers a young
+lady whom I had known as a well-educated Maori girl, living in good
+circumstances, possessing excellent taste in dress, and who had been
+in the habit of taking her place with advantage in European ballrooms.
+On this occasion her costume, although not more _décolletée_ than
+European evening dress frequently is, would have created considerable
+sensation in an English gathering, consisting as it did simply of a
+loose calico gown. A very handsome, well-informed half-caste, one of
+the most lady-like persons I ever met, once confessed to me that she
+could never look on at a Maori _tangi_ or wake without feeling an
+irresistible inclination to rush in and tear her hair and howl like
+the rest. In fact, she admitted that she had to leave such scenes,
+or her emotions might have become too strong for her self-control.
+Again, I shall not soon forget the surprise created, a few years ago,
+when one of the most promising young Maoris in Wellington, who had
+been brought up with Europeans from childhood, who was being educated
+for a barrister, and who promised to be one of the ornaments of the
+profession, suddenly disappeared, and was next heard of as having
+flung off his European clothes and joined the fanatical followers of
+a half-demented Maori prophet known as Te Whiti. No inducements could
+prevail on him to return to civilisation, and he became one of the most
+devoted and credulous of the prophet’s adherents.
+
+These, however, are exceptions, and not the rule. We have Maori
+members both of the Upper and Lower House who are a pattern to some
+other legislators in many respects, and can take their place in any
+European society. We have Maori clergymen both Anglican and Wesleyan
+who appear to make pastors of the most exemplary kind. There is as yet
+no Maori lawyer in practice, but some native lads are being trained in
+solicitors’ offices, and there is every prospect of their naturally
+keen wits enabling them to take a good position in the profession. So
+far as I am aware, they are not ambitious of becoming doctors; and some
+malicious people may be cruel enough to suggest that as regards the
+longevity of the race this is rather an advantage than otherwise.
+
+Some of them are being trained to trades; and it is suggested by the
+organising inspector that every boy, after he has gone through the
+village school course, should, if his parents wish it, be apprenticed
+to some trade by the government, so as to insure his obtaining a proper
+industrial training. With the Maoris grounded in a proper knowledge of
+social and sanitary laws, with their moral and intellectual instincts
+properly guided and cultivated, there seems yet to be a hope that
+the prophecy so often made, that the race must speedily die out, may
+be falsified. This is the opinion of a medical man to whom I have
+already referred. In his Report to the native Minister, Dr Ginders,
+after mentioning the prevalent diseases among the Maoris, says: ‘In
+my opinion, the production, and severity, and the spread of these
+diseases are determined by two main factors: first, the influence of
+the _wharepuni_ (sleeping-hut), and secondly, the consumption of putrid
+food. Compared with these two gigantic evils, alcohol is nowhere. Were
+there no _wharepunis_, I believe the Maori would be a successful rival
+of his European neighbour in sobriety and industry; but with his blood
+vitiated by the foul air of these hotbeds of disease, he has neither
+strength nor inclination to work, and it would be odd, indeed, if he
+had no craving for stimulants. I am inclined to credit the _wharepuni_
+with more than half the infant mortality. Not only is the child injured
+directly by this devitalising influence, but indirectly through the
+mother, whose milk is diminished in quantity and impoverished in
+quality by the same cause. I believe the growing intelligence of the
+rising generation of Maoris has already checked the rapid decadence of
+the race. I believe, too, that these evils will gradually die out, and
+we shall find the native population increasing _pari passu_.’
+
+New Zealand at the present time, it will be seen, has a grand
+opportunity for assisting in the achievement of a civilising feat
+which, if successful, will go very far to confute those pessimists who
+declare that our modern civilisation is a delusion and a snare, utterly
+destructive to the weaker races with whom it is brought in contact.
+
+
+
+
+BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+The first act in the drama was about to be played—the puppets all
+arranged, all acting for themselves, never heeding the hand of fate
+in it. Hector le Gautier triumphant, but troubled occasionally by the
+loss of his device, yet trusting to his own good fortune and matchless
+audacity to pull him through.
+
+The curious in such matters, the idle folks who dream and speculate,
+had food for reflection in their _Times_ next morning, for on the front
+sheet on the second column appeared an announcement. It was vague; but
+one man understood it. It ran:
+
+  MOIDORE.—How reckless of you to throw away a life on the hazard of a
+  die. They are all safe but yours. Where is that? In two months you
+  will have to deliver, and then beware of the wrath of the Crimson
+  Nine. It is not too late yet. Under the clock at C. × at nine—any
+  night. Use the sign, and good will come of it.—EASTERN EAGLE.
+
+The _Times_ containing this announcement lay upon Isodore’s
+breakfast-table in Ventnor Street, Fitzroy Square. As it rested upon
+the table, the words were readable, and Isodore smiled when they
+caught her eye as she entered. She took up an album from a side-table
+and turned over the leaves till she came to the portrait of a pretty
+dark girl of about seventeen. At this she looked long and intently,
+and then turned to scrutinise her features in the glass. There was
+nothing coquettish about this—no suspicion of womanly vanity, but
+rather the air of one who strives to find some likeness. Apparently the
+examination pleased her, for she smiled again—not a pleasant smile,
+this time, but one of certainty, almost cruelty; and a vengeful look
+made the eyes hard for a moment.
+
+She turned to the photograph again, and then once more back to the
+mirror, as if to be absolutely certain of her convictions, that there
+might be no mistake.
+
+While absorbed thus, Valerie le Gautier entered the room and looked at
+Isodore in astonishment. ‘You have a grand excuse,’ she said archly,
+‘though I did not know that vanity was one of your failings, Isodore.’
+
+Isodore blushed never so faintly, not so much by being taken in the
+little act, as by the appearance of the thing. ‘It is not on any
+account of mine,’ she said; ‘rather, on yours.—Valerie, look here
+carefully and tell me if you know that face.’ She indicated the
+portrait in the album; and her friend looked at it earnestly.
+
+After a few moments she looked up, shaking her head doubtfully. ‘No,’
+she replied. ‘It is a strange face entirely to me.’
+
+‘Then I have altered since that was taken five years ago.’
+
+‘Is it possible that innocent, childish-looking face could have once
+been you?’ Valerie asked in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+‘Indeed, it is. There is nothing like sorrow and hardship to alter the
+expression of features, especially of women. Yes, Valerie, that is what
+I was when I met him. You would not have known me?’
+
+‘No, indeed. They might be two different faces.’
+
+‘So much the better for me—so much the worse for him,’ Isodore observed
+without the slightest tinge of passion in her tones.—‘Read that
+paragraph in the _Times_, and see if you can make anything of it.’
+
+‘It is Greek to me,’ Valerie replied, when she had perused the
+advertisement with a puzzled air.—‘Has it any allusion to my—to Hector?’
+
+‘To your husband? Yes. He will understand it in a moment, and only
+be too eager to regain his insignia. There will be a happy union of
+two loving hearts some night in Charing Cross Station. Little will
+the spectators know of the passions running riot there.’ She laughed
+bitterly as she said these words, and threw the paper upon the table
+again. She was in a strange mood this morning.
+
+‘Then I suppose that C. × means Charing Cross?’ Valerie asked, ‘and
+you expect Hector to come there?—I do not quite comprehend your plan,
+Isodore. It will be dangerous to have another in the secret, and I
+suppose some one will have to meet him.’
+
+‘Some one will,’ was the calm reply. ‘And who, do you think, is
+the proper one to do that? Who better than his old friend and once
+passionate admirer, Isodore?’
+
+‘_You_ meet him?’ Valerie cried. ‘How daring! Suppose he should
+recognise you, how then? All your schemes would be thrown to the winds,
+and we should be defeated. It is madness!’
+
+‘You forget I have his badge of membership; besides, I have a duty to
+perform beyond my own feelings in the matter—my duty to the League. But
+he will not recognise me after the lapse of years, and I must get to
+the bottom of his traitorous designs.’
+
+‘You are reckoning upon certainties, Isodore. Suppose you are
+wrong—suppose he is, after all, no traitor, and that your ideas are
+only fancies. How then?’
+
+‘He is a traitor—instinct tells me that. Wait and see what Lucrece has
+to say, when she comes. She is sure to have gleaned some information by
+this time.’
+
+Hot revenge is apt to burn itself out quickly, from its very
+fierceness; but such hate as this never dies. There was a cool
+deliberation in Isodore’s words which struck her hearer with great
+force; and much as she herself had suffered, she could not realise a
+passion such as this. It is probable that had she met her recalcitrant
+husband, a few words would have obtained for him forgiveness; but she
+was under the spell now, and her weaker will was swallowed up in a
+strong one.
+
+‘Do you expect Lucrece this morning?’ Valerie asked.
+
+‘I am expecting her every moment,’ Isodore replied. ‘She promised me to
+come to-day and let me have her report.’
+
+They sat in silence for a few moments, when Lucrece entered. She was
+quietly, almost plainly dressed, and wore an air of extreme meekness.
+
+‘You look the character,’ Isodore said approvingly. ‘You might have
+been a menial all your lifetime.—I am all impatience. Begin!’
+
+‘In the first place,’ Lucrece began without further preamble, ‘I like
+my situation; and as to my new mistress, to know her is to love her.
+You have no idea how gentle and thoughtful she is. Now, to begin
+with her. The dear Hector has a rival, and a powerful one; his name
+is Frederick Maxwell, and he is an artist. From what I can see, they
+are engaged.—Isodore, this Maxwell has joined the League, and will be
+introduced by Salvarini.’
+
+‘Frederick Maxwell! Carlo’s old friend! Poor fool! Le Gautier has tools
+enough.’
+
+‘He is a fine handsome Englishman; honour and honesty stamped in
+every line of his face; just the sort of man to be made useful.—But
+to continue. Le Gautier is _l’ami de la famille_. He has a wonderful
+influence over Sir Geoffrey, and has succeeded in fascinating Enid—and
+she hates him notwithstanding. Isodore, Le Gautier is at his old
+spiritualistic tricks again.’
+
+‘Ah!—Tell me something of Sir Geoffrey.’
+
+‘I am coming to that. Last night, my mistress was out very late, not
+getting home till past one. It has been my habit to wait for her in
+the back dining-room, and last night I was sitting there in the dark,
+dozing. I was awakened by the entrance of Sir Geoffrey. I could see
+his face was ghastly pale, and he kept muttering to himself, and some
+words at intervals I caught. “I wonder if it was jugglery,” I heard him
+say—“if it was some trick of Le Gautier’s?—No; it could not be; and
+yet, if I am to have any peace, I must fulfil the compact—I must join
+this Brotherhood. And Enid, what will she say, when she knows? What
+will Maxwell think of me?—But perhaps Le Gautier is already married.” I
+could not catch any more. What do you think of it?’
+
+Isodore was following the speaker so intently, and so engrossed in her
+thoughts, that she did not reply for a moment. ‘You can help us here,
+Valerie. Tell us what you think.’
+
+‘Lucrece is perfectly right,’ Valerie replied. ‘I have hitherto told
+you that my husband used to dabble in such things; nay, more, as a
+conjurer he was probably without a rival. He made a great reputation at
+Rome before the thing exploded; and indeed, to a weak mind, some of the
+séances were awe-inspiring.’
+
+‘It seems to me,’ Isodore put in reflectively, ‘that Le Gautier has
+worked upon Sir Geoffrey’s superstitious fears till he has him bound
+fast enough. And you say he is to join the Brotherhood. Really, I begin
+to feel an admiration for the man I am pledged to destroy. It is clear
+that he has promised his daughter to Le Gautier. Is she weak?’
+
+‘On the contrary, though she is gentle and tractable, there is much
+determination of purpose underlying her gentleness.’
+
+‘You have done wonders in this short time, my sister. But do not relax
+your vigilance now; let nothing escape you that may be of use to us.’
+
+‘I must return,’ Lucrece explained, looking at her watch, ‘or I shall
+be missed. I will not fail to bring you such information as falls in my
+way from time to time.’
+
+After she was gone, the women sat quietly for a time, each pondering
+over what they had heard. The information was not much; but it sufficed
+to show them in what way the influence over the weak baronet had been
+obtained, and every detail of Le Gautier’s movement might be of use. A
+wild plan formed itself in Isodore’s busy brain, as she sat thinking
+there. ‘Why should it not be?’ she thought.
+
+‘Do you think it would be possible for any one to love me?’ she asked.
+
+Valerie looked into the beautiful face and smiled. ‘How otherwise?’
+
+‘Then it shall be so. Valerie, I am going to make Hector le Gautier
+love me as he never loved woman before!’
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+Hector le Gautier, all unconscious of the plot against his safety and
+peace of mind, sat over his breakfast the same morning. He was on
+remarkably good terms with himself, for all his plans were prospering,
+and for him the present outlook was a rosy one. His plans were well
+laid. He intended to keep his present position in the League, to go
+to Warsaw if necessary; and now that he had Sir Geoffrey in his hands
+beyond all hope of extrication, it was easy enough to send Maxwell upon
+some dangerous foreign mission, where, if he escaped with his life, he
+would henceforth be an outlaw and a fugitive. Sir Geoffrey, too, had
+bound himself to join; and with this lever, he could work upon Enid’s
+fears to perfection.
+
+He was in no hurry; he was far too consummate a rogue, too accomplished
+a schemer, to ruin the delicate combination by any premature move,
+preferring for the present to renew his forces and calculate his
+advance, as a chess-player might when he knows the game is in his
+hands. Then should come the crowning act, by which he should rid
+himself of the irksome chains which bound him to the League. All his
+plans were prepared for delivering the leaders into the hands of
+justice, always with a care to his own escape. As he turned these
+things over in his mind, he whistled a little air gaily, resumed his
+breakfast, and opened the broadsheet of the _Times_ to see the news of
+the day.
+
+Fortune seemed to be smiling upon him, he thought, as he read the
+mystic announcement in the second outside column. Here was the thing
+which had caused him so much anxious thought as good as delivered again
+into his hands. Some friend, perhaps, had discovered his loss, and had
+determined to return it thus. Perhaps—and here he showed his white
+teeth in a dazzling smile—some fair one, who had taken this way to show
+her admiration; for Le Gautier was, like most vain men, a great admirer
+of the sex, and fully impressed with the all-conquering fascination of
+his manner. He was not the first clever man who has held such opinions,
+and found, when too late, the fatal error of underrating the power of
+an injured woman.
+
+He perfectly understood the advertisement. It was not the first time
+that newspapers had been employed to do work for the League; nor did he
+hesitate to avail himself of this golden opportunity. He had scarcely
+finished his breakfast and made up his mind to meet the mysterious
+Eastern Eagle, when Salvarini entered. He was moody and preoccupied,
+with a sombre frown upon his face, telling of much inward uneasiness.
+
+‘I do not like these new arrangements,’ he commenced abruptly, in
+answer to Le Gautier’s florid greeting. ‘There is great danger in them,
+and they cannot lead to any good results. I shall oppose them.’
+
+‘Pray, explain yourself, my good Luigi; I am in Cimmerian darkness,’
+Le Gautier replied carelessly. ‘You are so dreadfully in earnest;
+absolutely, you view life through the gloomy spectacles of the League.’
+
+‘It is folly, madness!’ Salvarini replied passionately. ‘Heaven knows,
+we have had bloodshed enough. What do you think the last proposal
+is?—Nothing less than the removal of ministers: dynamite is to be the
+agent, and a special mission arranged to Rome. Visci—our dear old
+friend Visci—is doomed!’
+
+‘They must be mad,’ Le Gautier returned calmly. ‘But tell me, Luigi,
+what of Visci?’ he continued, inspired by a sudden thought. ‘I presume
+you have been holding a Council this morning. Visci used to be a friend
+of yours. How do they propose to get rid of him?’
+
+‘The dagger!’ Salvarini answered with great agitation. ‘Visci was once
+a friend of mine, as you say, and yours too, for that. Heaven save me
+from the task!’
+
+‘But why need it be you? We have new members, new blood as yet untried.
+Let them show their mettle now. There is no reason why we should always
+be in the van of battle. But why this sudden determination?’
+
+‘The old story,’ Salvarini continued bitterly—‘private grudges brought
+in; personal ends to be served where all should be of one accord, all
+striving for the good of the cause. I am heartsick and weary of the
+whole affair. Is our path always to be defiled with innocent blood?’
+
+‘So long as I can keep my hands clean, it is nothing to me,’ Le Gautier
+replied with a careless shrug; ‘not that I hold with the present
+system.—But abandon your Cassandra vein, and be yourself for a moment.
+See what you think of that, and congratulate me upon a stroke of
+fortune I have not altogether deserved.’
+
+‘I congratulate you,’ Salvarini grimly replied, when he had perused
+the paragraph. ‘You always contrive to fall upon your feet. Did I not
+tell you that night in the Kursaal you would hear of this again? Of
+course it is a woman. No man would have taken such trouble, especially
+if he happened to be a Brother,’ he concluded with significant emphasis.
+
+Le Gautier drew his fingers airily across his throat, intending by this
+little playful action to allude to his own sudden death. In his petty
+vanity, he was not altogether displeased that his friend should hint at
+a conquest.
+
+‘Undoubtedly from a woman,’ he said. ‘Mark the mystery and romance
+underlying it all. Some fair dame of the Order, perhaps, who has seen
+me only to become a victim to my numberless charms.—Luigi, my friend,
+this little affair promises amusement.’
+
+‘I might have known that,’ Salvarini retorted with some little
+contempt. ‘I believe you could be turned aside from the most pressing
+mission by a glance from a pair of melting eyes.—Bah! your thoughts run
+on such things to the detriment of the Order.’
+
+‘In such a charming situation as you mention, confusion to the
+Order!—Now, do not look so melodramatic! Pardieu! do you think a man
+should have no amusements? Now, as a penance, you shall bore me with
+the order of this morning’s proceedings.’
+
+‘A woman will ruin you eventually.’—Le Gautier smiled; the sententious
+words read the wrong way.—‘We had not much transaction this morning,
+save what I have told you, and the initiation of a few members.’
+
+‘Converts to the noble cause of freedom.—Any one I know?’
+
+‘Several. Do I understand it is your intention to introduce Sir
+Geoffrey in person?’
+
+Le Gautier nodded assent; and the friends proceeded to discuss other
+matters connected with their mission. When Salvarini had left, long and
+earnestly did Le Gautier sit silently there. Then he rose, and taking
+a pack of cards from a drawer, began to cut and shuffle them rapidly.
+He dealt them round six times, bringing the knave of clubs on the same
+heap each time. He put the cards away; an evil smile was on his face.
+
+‘My right hand has not lost its cunning,’ he muttered. ‘Frederick
+Maxwell shall go to Rome, and—— Well, fate will do the rest.’
+
+With this humane remark, he put on his hat, struggled into a pair of
+very tight-fitting gloves, and passed out from Hunter Street into the
+Euston Road; for it is almost needless to say that the house beyond
+Paddington where we last saw him was not his ordinary lodging, his
+abode being a much humbler one, as consisted with his limited means;
+for Hector le Gautier, though moving in good society, and always
+faultlessly attired, was not endowed with that wealth that smooths
+so many paths in this vale of tears. Like other men of his class, he
+contrived to keep his head above water, though how it was done was
+alike a mystery to himself and his friends.
+
+It was past two as he turned into Grosvenor Square and up the broad
+flight of steps which led up to the Charteris’ mansion. He had come
+here with more purposes than one: in the first place, to see Enid—this
+attraction a powerful one; and secondly, to have a talk upon general
+matters with the baronet, and perhaps get an invitation to luncheon.
+Sir Geoffrey he found in the dining-room, just sitting down to his
+mid-day meal in solitary state; and in answer to an invitation to
+join, asked after Enid, who, he learned, had gone with Maxwell and a
+kindly chaperon to a morning-party at Twickenham. He was, however, too
+much a cosmopolitan to allow this to interfere with his appetite, so,
+with a few well-chosen words of regret, he settled himself quietly
+to his lunch, discussing in turn the weather, politics, the last new
+beauty, anything—waiting for his host to speak upon the subject nearest
+his heart. Sir Geoffrey’s patience being by this time exhausted, he
+commenced.
+
+‘I think I am free, Le Gautier,’ he said at length.
+
+The listener affected not to comprehend this enigmatic remark.
+
+‘Free from what, Sir Geoffrey?’ he asked carelessly. ‘Is it gout, or
+headache, or a marvellous escape from dining with a notorious bore?
+Which of these things are you free from?’
+
+‘I was thinking of nothing so worldly,’ was the serious reply. ‘I
+allude to the marvellous manifestations recently vouchsafed to me.
+Since you so kindly showed me through yourself the path of duty, I have
+felt like a different man. They are gone, I trust for ever. Tell me, do
+you think there is any possible chance of their recurring?’
+
+‘So long as you fulfil your part of the contract, certainly not.—But,
+my dear Sir Geoffrey,’ the Frenchman continued gaily, ‘let us have
+no serious conversation now, I beseech you. Let us forget for the
+time we are anything but friends. I am too light and frivolous to
+talk seriously. The last new play, a fresh picture, anything but the
+supernatural.’
+
+Despite this appearance of _bonhomie_, Le Gautier had no intention of
+changing the conversation, though it was not his cue to introduce the
+subject himself; besides, an appearance of good-naturedly yielding to
+the other’s news seemed to tell better, and create a deeper feeling of
+obligation.
+
+‘The longer I put the matter off, the more difficult my task seems
+to be,’ the baronet continued, not without hesitation. ‘Certain
+restrictions were laid upon me, certain commands given, which I am
+bound to carry out. If you had heard the conversation, my task would be
+less difficult; but as you did not, I must do my best to explain.’
+
+Le Gautier drummed with his fingers upon the table, shrugged his
+shoulders, and sighed gently, as a man yielding against his will upon
+the sacred ground of friendship, tempered with politeness.
+
+‘If you have anything to say, it is perhaps better to say it. But if
+it pains you, if it gives you the slightest mental agony or discloses
+family affairs, then, my dear sir, be dumb;’ and the speaker glanced
+out of the window, as if he considered the matter settled.
+
+‘But I must tell you. It is impossible I can fulfil my promises without
+your assistance. In the first place, I am commanded to join your League
+or Brotherhood; and here, you see, I cannot get any further without
+your good advice and countenance.’
+
+‘You distress me,’ Le Gautier replied mournfully. ‘I wish that matter
+could have been settled without such a step being necessary. Our work,
+though a noble one, is attended at times with great hardship and
+danger. Think, my dear Sir Geoffrey—think if there is no middle course
+by which such an action may be avoided.’
+
+The speaker created the impression he was most anxious to make. To the
+baronet, full of his scheme, this advice was unpalatable, the more
+that, like most spoilt, weak-minded men, he was intensely fond of his
+own way. He grew stubborn. Le Gautier was perfectly at ease as he
+studied the other’s face.
+
+‘I see no middle course. The injunction was very strict. I dare not
+disobey, if I would. I must become a member of your League, whatever
+the danger may be; and if called upon, I must take my part in the work.
+Do you not remember the vision?’——
+
+‘You forget my state,’ Le Gautier interrupted softly—‘that during the
+time I heard nothing, comprehended nothing going on around me. My
+faculties for the time being were torpid.’
+
+This adroit interruption only served to increase the baronet’s
+uneasiness. He writhed in his chair, unable to continue.
+
+‘And there is another thing,’ he stammered, ‘which I must tell you,
+though I scarcely know how. I daresay you have noticed my daughter?’
+
+‘Is it possible to see her and not be conscious of her beauties!’ Le
+Gautier cried—‘to be in her presence and not feel the charm of her
+society! Ah! Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued blandly, throwing out a strong
+hint, ‘he will be a happy man who wins the treasure of her heart!’
+
+At this helping of the lame dog over the stile, Sir Geoffrey looked
+grateful. ‘Has she ever impressed you, Le Gautier?’
+
+‘Alas, yes,’ was the melancholy reply, but with some feeling too, for,
+as far as he was concerned, the passion was genuine. ‘Why should I
+strive to conceal my honest love? I may be poor and unknown, but I am
+at least a gentleman, and I offer the greatest compliment man can pay a
+woman—an ardent, loving heart.—But I am rambling; I dream, I rave! That
+I should aspire to an alliance with the House of Charteris!’
+
+The baronet was somewhat moved by this display of manly emotion, and,
+moreover, his pride was tickled. The young man evidently knew that what
+he aspired to was a high honour indeed.
+
+‘But, Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued brokenly, ‘you will not breathe a
+word of this to a soul! In a moment of passion, I have been led to
+divulge the master-passion of my life. Promise me you will forget
+it from this hour;’ and saying these words, he stretched out a hand
+trembling with suppressed emotion to his host and friend. A good actor
+was lost to an admiring world here.
+
+‘But bless me!’ Sir Geoffrey exclaimed, taken aback by this display,
+and, sooth to say, somewhat irritated that the necessary explanation
+must come from him after all, ‘I _want_ you to marry the girl.’
+
+‘Is it possible, or am I dreaming?’ Le Gautier cried in a delirium of
+rapture. ‘Do I hear aright? Oh, say these words again!’
+
+Le Gautier was slightly overdoing the thing now, and Sir Geoffrey knew
+it. ‘I mean what I say,’ he added coldly. ‘You are the man for Enid.’
+
+‘Who is talking about Enid?’ asked a fresh clear voice at that moment,
+as the subject of discourse, accompanied by her escort, glided into the
+room. Le Gautier, in love as he was, thought he had never seen her look
+so fair as she did then, her face slightly tinged with colour, her eyes
+all aglow with pleasurable excitement. For a moment the conspirators
+were abashed, and it took all the Frenchman’s cool equitable nerve to
+solve and explain what appeared to be a truly awkward question.
+
+‘When we are not with the rose, we love to talk of her,’ he replied
+with one of these bold glances for which Maxwell longed to kick him on
+the spot.—‘I trust you have spent a pleasant morning?’
+
+Enid answered as coldly as the dictates of breeding would allow.
+The man’s florid compliments were odious to her, and his presence
+oppressive. Le Gautier, accustomed to read men and faces like open
+books, did not fail to note this.
+
+‘I have important news,’ he whispered to Maxwell, after he had made his
+graceful adieux to Enid and his host. ‘I want to say a few words to
+you, if you happen to be walking my way.’
+
+Maxwell answered with studious politeness. ‘With pleasure,’ he said.
+‘If you will allow me, I will drive you in my cab.’
+
+Enid’s quick ears caught the whisper, and a feeling of approaching evil
+seemed to come over her—a cloud passed over the sun, and, to her fancy,
+for a moment Le Gautier looked like Mephistopheles tempting Faust. As
+the two men passed out, she called Maxwell back. ‘Be careful,’ she
+urged. ‘Beware of that man; he will do you a mischief.’
+
+Maxwell smiled down in the pretty fearful face tenderly. ‘All right,
+little woman,’ he answered carelessly. ‘I shall take care. He is not
+likely to do any harm to me.’
+
+
+
+
+NAPOLEON IN TOR BAY.
+
+
+It is all but impossible to realise the scene of excitement which the
+calm blue waters of Tor Bay, crested with the bright sunshine of the
+summer of 1815, presented, when the Emperor Napoleon arrived on board
+the _Bellerophon_, soon to be transferred to the _Northumberland_,
+in which he was conveyed to St Helena. After the world-earthquake
+Waterloo, when the allies entered Paris, and the French army declared
+for Louis XVIII., Napoleon made his way to Rochefort, where he arrived
+on the 3d of July, and whence his attempts at escape were frustrated by
+the moonlight and the vigilance of the English cruisers. Two frigates
+had been placed at his disposal to facilitate his flight to America,
+and arrangements likewise made with a Danish smack which was to await
+him out at sea; but to reach her under the circumstances was deemed an
+attempt too hazardous. At last, on the 14th of July, Count Las Cases
+and General Allemand came on board the _Bellerophon_, then lying in
+the Basque Roads, with a proposal to Captain Maitland that he should
+receive Napoleon, who desired to proceed to England for the purpose
+of throwing himself upon the generosity of the Prince Regent. Captain
+Maitland clearly explained that it was out of his power to grant
+terms of any sort, and that his instructions only permitted him to
+convey Napoleon and his attendants to England; on which understanding,
+the ex-Emperor, with his baggage, embarked the following morning
+on board a French brig, which conveyed them to the _Bellerophon_,
+where he was received with the honours due to a crowned head. On
+gaining the quarter-deck, the Emperor said in French to the captain:
+‘I am come, sir, to claim the protection of your Prince and of your
+laws.’ In appearance he is described as about five and a half feet in
+height, strongly made, decidedly stout, with a sallow complexion, and
+dark-brown hair, as yet untouched with gray. He wore a green uniform
+coat with epaulets and a red collar, a broad red sash, star on the left
+breast, white waistcoat, boots and pantaloons, and a large cocked hat
+with the tricoloured cockade.
+
+The passage, by reason of adverse winds, was slow, so that it was the
+24th ere the _Bellerophon_ arrived in Tor Bay, when Captain Maitland
+was signalled to stand out three leagues from shore, and there await
+further orders from the Admiralty. It is said that on first beholding
+the Devonshire coast, Napoleon could not conceal his admiration,
+exclaiming: ‘At length here is this beautiful country! How much it
+resembles Porto Ferrajo, in Elba.’
+
+No sooner was it known that the disturber of the peace of Europe,
+against whom they had so long and so sternly striven, was actually
+on board ship at anchor in Tor Bay, than from Dartmouth, Paignton,
+Dawlish, Teignmouth, and by-and-by from ports more distant still, the
+country-folk thronged in boats of every size and shape, struggling to
+approach the _Bellerophon_ to catch a glimpse of the fallen Emperor.
+So inconvenient and dangerous was the crowding of these innumerable
+craft with their cargoes of sightseers, that it became necessary to
+order the _Bellerophon’s_ boats to row round the ship to keep them at a
+respectful distance. No fewer than a thousand boats daily put off from
+the shore; and Napoleon exhibited no little pleasure and amusement at
+the interest excited by his presence. From London and all parts of the
+country, people flocked down to Tor Bay during the time necessarily
+occupied in determining Napoleon’s final destination, well pleased if
+they succeeded in catching an occasional glimpse of him as he walked
+backwards and forwards in the stern gallery with his hands behind him,
+or surveyed through an opera glass the varied texture of the crowd in
+the vessels below. As he paced the quarter-deck in conversation with
+one or other of his followers, he would frequently approach the ship’s
+side and acknowledge the salutations of his visitors. Two or three
+French ladies, wives of members of the suite, dressed in the height
+of the prevailing fashion, were frequently seated on deck, with whom,
+as he paused in his walk and stooped to look through the ports at the
+vessels alongside, Napoleon would now and again exchange a word. At
+six o’clock the dinner-bell rang, when the Emperor with his attendants
+went below, the sailors with great good-humour putting out a board
+on which was chalked, ‘He’s gone to dine.’ He usually remained about
+half an hour, when another board announced his reappearance on deck. It
+was about the 1st of August when his ultimate destination became known
+to him through the newspapers, and he was shortly afterwards observed
+at the cabin window tearing up papers, which he threw into the sea.
+Fragments of some of these, being seized upon as relics, turned out
+to be translations of speeches in the last session of parliament, and
+a letter addressed to the Empress Maria Louisa immediately after his
+abdication.
+
+But of all the incidents which occurred while Napoleon was in Tor
+Bay, the most remarkable was a farewell visit paid him by a lady of
+foreign appearance and surpassing loveliness. Cloaked and veiled,
+to escape observation, she carried with her a bouquet of choicest
+flowers, peculiarly arranged in rows, which, when her boat arrived
+at a convenient distance from the _Bellerophon_, was despatched in
+charge of her servant. As the token of unchanged affection reached
+the quarter-deck, the lady was observed to raise her veil, disclosing
+features of exceeding beauty. At first, the bouquet seemed to awaken
+no memories in Napoleon’s breast, but after a moment, he hastily
+approached the ship’s side, and steadfastly gazing awhile on the fair
+form disclosed to view, he waved a last farewell.
+
+On Wednesday the 2d of August, the _Bellerophon_ and _Tonnant_ sailed
+for Plymouth, where it had been intended that the transfer to the
+_Northumberland_ should be carried out. But in consequence of the loss
+of life which occurred from the vast concourse of boats in the Sound,
+as well as to avoid a writ of habeas corpus, under which it was desired
+to obtain the evidence of Napoleon in a case at the time pending in the
+Queen’s Bench, it was deemed advisable to return to Tor Bay, where,
+on Sunday the 6th of August, the three vessels (the _Northumberland_
+having meantime come round from Portsmouth) cast anchor. No sooner
+were the ships brought up, than Sir Henry Bunbury, accompanied by Mr
+Bathurst, proceeded on board the _Bellerophon_, and announced to the
+ex-Emperor the resolution of the cabinet, that he should be transported
+to St Helena, accompanied by four of his friends and twelve servants.
+The information was received without surprise; but in a speech of
+three-quarters of an hour’s duration, delivered in a manner the most
+impressive, Napoleon protested against the determination which had been
+arrived at.
+
+The same afternoon, Lord Keith and Sir George Cockburn proceeded in
+the admiral’s yacht to the _Bellerophon_. Napoleon was on deck to
+receive them. After the usual salutations, Lord Keith addressed himself
+to Bonaparte, and acquainted him with his intended transfer to the
+_Northumberland_ for passage to St Helena. After much expostulation,
+Napoleon finally refused to go; but upon Lord Keith expressing the
+hope that no coercion would be necessary to carry out the orders of
+government, he replied: ‘O no, no! you command, I must obey! Only,
+recollect, I do not go of my own free-will.’ He then formally handed to
+Lord Keith a written protest against his transportation to St Helena,
+in which it was contended, that having come voluntarily on board
+the _Bellerophon_, he was the guest and not the prisoner of England.
+‘I appeal,’ he concluded, ‘to history, whether an enemy who comes
+deliberately in his misfortunes to seek an asylum under the protection
+of English law, can give a more convincing proof of his esteem and
+confidence. But how have the English answered such confidence and
+magnanimity; they pretended to extend a friendly hand to this enemy;
+and when he relied on their good faith, they sacrificed him.’
+
+It was afterwards arranged that the transfer should take place the
+following morning (Monday) about eleven o’clock. Early next day, Sir
+George Cockburn superintended the inspection of the baggage, consisting
+of services and toilet sets of plate, several articles in gold, books,
+beds, &c., which were sent on board the _Northumberland_, four thousand
+gold napoleons being sealed up and detained. The baggage having been
+removed, the parting scene commenced, Napoleon handing to several of
+his officers a certificate of fidelity and good service. About eleven
+o’clock, the barge of the _Tonnant_ proceeded to the _Bellerophon_ to
+receive the fallen Emperor and those who were to be the partakers of
+his exile: General and Madame Bertrand with their children, Count and
+Countess Montholon and child, Count Las Cases, General Gourgaud, nine
+men and three women servants. At the last moment, Napoleon’s surgeon
+refused to accompany him, whereupon the surgeon of the _Bellerophon_,
+Mr O’Meara, consented to supply his place. Shortly afterwards O’Meara
+was offered a salary of five hundred pounds per annum, but this he
+rejected, with the remark that the pay of his king was sufficient to
+satisfy him.
+
+Before entering the barge which was to convey him to the
+_Northumberland_, Bonaparte addressed himself to Captain Maitland and
+the officers of the _Bellerophon_, not forgetting to take off his hat
+to them again after descending the ladder into the barge. It was about
+noon on the 7th of August when the barge of the _Tonnant_ approached
+the starboard side of the _Northumberland_. Bertrand was the first to
+go over the side, and standing with his hat off, upright as a sentinel,
+announced his master. Napoleon instantly followed, and taking off his
+hat, remarked to Sir George Cockburn, who received him: ‘Monsieur, je
+suis à vos ordres.’ At once moving forward on the quarter-deck, he
+desired to be introduced to Captain Ross, who commanded the ship, a
+ceremony which was immediately performed, the guard of marines, drawn
+up on the port side, receiving the ex-Emperor with the compliment due
+to his rank as a general officer. To Lord Lowther and Mr Lyttleton,
+who stood near the admiral, Napoleon bowed and spoke a few words,
+remarking also to an artillery officer who was by, that he himself
+had originally served in that arm. The introduction to the eight
+lieutenants of the ship, not one of whom could speak a single word of
+French, was sufficiently ridiculous; they were drawn up in line on
+one side of the cabin; and after gazing and smiling for a moment on
+Napoleon, who, in his turn, gazed and smiled at them, they bowed and
+defiled before him out of the cabin door. The after-cabin on board the
+_Northumberland_ was not, as on the _Bellerophon_, the private room
+wherein Napoleon was not to be intruded upon by any unbidden guest, but
+was shared equally by the admiral and his friends; a small cabin being
+besides appropriated for the sole accommodation of the ex-Emperor,
+and elegantly furnished, the toilet being of silver, and the bed
+linen of exquisite fineness. The party were also permitted to supply
+themselves from shore with any articles they might desire wherewith
+to add to their comfort and amusement, a permission of which they
+availed themselves by purchasing a billiard-table, an immense supply of
+playing-cards, chessmen, &c., besides a number of the best books in the
+English language.
+
+After waiting for the _Weymouth_ storeship and some other vessels
+destined to complete the miniature squadron, the whole finally sailed
+out of Tor Bay on Friday the 11th of August; and Napoleon passed away
+from the shores of Europe to end his days in exile on a solitary rock
+in the Atlantic.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE HANNAY’S LOVE AFFAIR.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.—DISENCHANTMENT.
+
+Fortune seemed to smile on Alfred’s London enterprise. He called
+personally on the editors of several of the society magazines and
+journals. ‘A Summer Ramble in Kirkcudbright’ was now in all the glory
+of print; and when he assured the editors that he was really the
+‘Ariel’ who penned the sketch, he found them willing, nay, anxious
+to look over the manuscripts he left with them. The letter from the
+_Olympic_ accepting the manuscript and inclosing so handsome an
+honorarium was of great help to him. Mr Hannay had a reputation for
+‘discovering’ talent, and his protégés hardly ever failed in taking
+some rank in the profession. He got four or five accepted at fairly
+remunerative prices. Then he was proposed at a minor literary club, and
+passed the ballot. As a new contributor to the _Olympic_, he ranked
+well there among his brother scribes, who looked on him as a rising
+man, and one whose good opinion was worth courting. These new friends
+indeed treated him with great cordiality, and made him as one of
+themselves; some even going the length of borrowing from him small sums
+of money.
+
+Nor was this all. One of the members, the sub-editor of a Sunday paper,
+volunteered to introduce him to London ‘society.’ Behold our friend,
+then, at a grand reception at Mrs Judson’s. This lady was the widow of
+a wealthy London pawnbroker (financial agent she preferred the lost one
+to be called). Her sole ambition in life was to secure a following of
+literary ‘stars,’ even if they were of infinitesimal magnitude; and in
+her circle, ‘Ariel’ appeared as one of the first. His handsome figure
+and genial manners constituted him a great favourite with the ladies;
+and his presence was eagerly sought for at all these little reunions
+which compose the ‘fringe’ of London literary and artistic society.
+He found this kind of life both pleasant and profitable; for he was
+brought in contact with many editors and proprietors of third and
+fourth rate periodicals, and was able to dispose of half his rejected
+manuscripts among them, with fairly satisfactory pecuniary results to
+himself.
+
+His banker now held one or two hundred pounds to his credit, and he
+began to look upon the success of his literary venture as _un fait
+accompli_. There was just one little thing that annoyed him: his newly
+found literary friends were extremely solicitous to know when his
+further productions would appear in the _Olympic_. This was a poser,
+for he had not the least idea himself. He got out of the difficulty,
+however, by saying that the principal editor being on the continent,
+there would be nothing definitely arranged until his return. As will be
+remembered, Nan’s restrictions did not prevent him from contributing
+to the _Olympic_ in his own name; so, immediately after his arrival
+in London, he set to work and wrote a sketch called ‘Student Life in
+Brussels.’ The manuscript was duly sent, and duly returned in a few
+days with a printed note indicating the editor’s regret at being unable
+to make use of the paper. This was discouraging; but then he reflected
+that taste in literary things was very fickle; so he wrote a heavy
+article on Fair Trade, and sent it on; but the result was the same.
+
+About this time, he heard that Mr Hannay had gone to St Petersburg
+with a friend to enjoy the winter festivities of the gay northern
+capital. As he was not expected home for two or three months, Alfred
+had a good excuse till then for the non-appearance of any further
+work of his in the _Olympic_. In the meantime he gave himself up to
+the charming gaieties and pleasant little dissipations of the circle
+that had made quite a lion of him. He rather liked the homage these
+people paid him; true, they were mentally his inferiors, he thought;
+but then they had money, position, and influence, and might be made
+useful to him in the future. He began to think—sometimes with a feeling
+bordering on regret—of his engagement to the innkeeper’s daughter. How
+much better he could do now, if he were free! However, he would be
+true to his engagement. Only, Nan must be reasonable, and wait; at the
+end of two or three years, when his name was famous and his position
+thoroughly assured, he would marry her. To do so now would be extremely
+prejudicial to his interests, and must not be thought of for a moment.
+O no; she must wait patiently till it suited his convenience; and
+wouldn’t she gladly do so? Of course, for wasn’t the girl madly in love
+with him?
+
+And what about Nan? Well, things were going on in their usual jog-trot
+course at Lochenbreck. The winter was their dull season, and she had
+plenty of time at her disposal, which she employed in sewing, reading,
+practising her music, and occasionally taking part in the quiet social
+gatherings of her country neighbours. She was, of course, delighted to
+hear of her lover’s success in London. ‘Well, after all,’ she thought,
+‘he seems to have known best.’ Then she thought smilingly of the time
+when he would be coming to claim the fulfilment of her promise; and
+she hoped she could induce him to spend part of the year at least at
+Lochenbreck. The parting with her father was the only drawback in her
+fair future; and she hoped this might be partially at least averted.
+She sometimes thought of her old and trusted friend the editor, and
+a shadow would come over her countenance for a moment. It passed
+quickly away, however, for she never thought but that he had long since
+forgotten her, amid the gaieties of the continent and his literary
+pursuits; for though far from London, he still held the editorial reins
+and wrote his usual articles for the _Olympic_.
+
+This pleasant, tranquil state of matters lasted for some weeks. Her
+lover still corresponded regularly with her; but his letters began to
+get shorter, and were, perhaps, not quite so profuse and warm in their
+amatory expressions. Then after a bit they came more irregularly and
+seldomer. Still Nan paid no heed to what another maiden might have
+taken as indications of their lover’s failing allegiance. Hers was
+a happy, contented disposition, with no morbid desire to conjure up
+possible future evils. She loved Alfred sincerely, and with all the
+warmth and fervour of a girl’s first love. That he had failings, her
+strong, keen sense showed her plainly enough; but then he was only a
+fallible mortal like herself and other people. She was not blind to the
+vanity he displayed in writing to her about his social triumphs. If
+there was anything that troubled her, it was the frequent references he
+made to Mrs Judson. She resented the control which this woman seemed
+to have acquired over her lover’s doings. True, the widow was almost
+old enough to be his mother, and had been very kind to him; but a man
+should have a mind of his own, and hold his future in his own hands; if
+he did consult with any one, it should be with her who was soon to be
+his wife.
+
+Things went on in this fashion for some time longer, and Nan began
+to feel a vague, chilling feeling in her heart that all was not as
+it should be between Alfred and herself. She was scarcely prepared,
+however, for a letter she received from him one morning after a
+longer silence than usual. It was dated from a Sir Hew Crayton’s
+shooting-lodge down in Essex. The high-born though impecunious—and, if
+the truth must be told, rather disreputable—baronet had been a client
+of the late Mr Judson, and was heavily indebted to his widow. He was a
+constant attender at her house, and it was there Alfred had formed his
+acquaintance. Nan smiled when she saw the ostentatious way he dated the
+blazoned note-paper from Crayton Lodge. Before she finished reading,
+however, her eyebrows became knit, and an angry frown settled on her
+whilom smiling visage. The letter commenced by saying that as he felt
+rather out of sorts with his protracted course of social enjoyments,
+he had accepted his friend Sir Hew Crayton’s kind invitation to spend
+a few days’ pheasant-shooting with him down in Essex. Then he gave
+a general account of what he had been doing since he last wrote—the
+dinner-parties, balls, routs, conversaziones, and what not he had been
+at; the compliments that had been paid him, and the pleasing prophecies
+of the grand future before him which flattering tongues had whispered
+in his ears. All this she read with an amused smile. But near the end
+she came to a paragraph which ran as follows: ‘Do you know, Nan, I
+have got a splendid chance of making my fortune just now? A young lady
+with twenty thousand pounds in her own right has fallen in love with
+me! I was introduced to her at an afternoon tea at Mrs Judson’s. Of
+course, I made myself agreeable enough, but I never thought she would
+have taken my little civilities so seriously. Yet she did so. Mrs
+Judson gave me a plain hint to that effect, and I then had to tell her
+about our engagement, and that such a thing was impossible. She was
+surprised, and advised me strongly to keep the thing secret, as, if it
+were known, it would damage my prospects greatly in society, and even
+in my profession. She has an excellent knowledge of the world, Mrs
+Judson, and has been very kind to me; her idea is, that we should not
+think of getting married for two or three years yet. By that time I
+will be in an assured position, able to marry any one I like, and not
+care a pin what the world says.’
+
+Nan could scarce believe her eyes. Who was this Mrs Judson who had
+thrust herself between them? And did the prospective ‘not caring a
+pin what the world said about marrying her,’ mean that he was afraid
+and ashamed to marry her _now_? The very thought brought the hot
+blood tumultuously to her cheeks. Her impulse was to write breaking
+off the engagement at once; however, when the first burst of natural
+indignation was past, her practical good sense asserted itself, and
+she wrote a short note, requesting him to hasten down to Lochenbreck,
+as something of the most vital importance to them both had to be at
+once decided. This she posted, and awaited her lover’s arrival—with
+impatience certainly—but not of a pleasing kind.
+
+When Alfred got the letter, he was a little startled. Justly enough, he
+attributed it to something he had said in his last epistle to her; and
+in going over its contents in his mind, he had no difficulty in fixing
+on the paragraph just quoted as being the cause of offence. ‘Poor Nan!’
+he thought. ‘A case of jealousy, I suppose—the twenty-thousand-pounds
+young lady. How ridiculous of her! Didn’t I say the thing was
+impossible! However, I must run down and see her. A kiss, a caress, and
+a few soft words, will put her all right. Really, now, I do like Nan;
+and I’ll make things all right for her one of these days. But she must
+have patience: she forgets what a sacrifice I am making, all for her
+sake. To marry an innkeeper’s daughter! when, I may say, I have the
+pick and choice of the eligibles of London society, seems like lunacy.
+Oh, but I’ll be true to her, all the same! But she must learn her
+position; give up any selfish ideas of an early foolish marriage, and
+learn to wait patiently till it suits my convenience and interest.’
+
+He arrived at Lochenbreck railway station by the morning express. The
+wagonette was there to meet him, but no Nan. He jumped in; and whirling
+through the keen frosty air, cracking jokes with the driver the while,
+he arrived in excellent spirits at the little old-fashioned inn. To
+Nan’s great relief, her father had gone to Castle Douglas market;
+she hated ‘scenes’ of any kind and under any circumstances; but she
+thought she could bear the one before her better, if her father was not
+present and was never to hear of it afterwards. After having dinned
+the praises of his prospective son-in-law in his ears for months, how
+could she now turn round and say she had discovered him to be a vain,
+conceited, selfish coxcomb? She had little hope of this interview
+putting matters right between them, and, to be prepared for the worst,
+had collected all his letters—all the little nicknacks he had given
+her—and parcelled them up ready to hand to him.
+
+She submitted gravely and coldly to the customary salute with which he
+greeted her, and led the way to the coffee-room, where breakfast lay
+ready for him. In the occasional presence of the waiting-girl, private
+conversation was impossible; so he rattled on in an agreeable manner
+about his experiences in London, giving brilliant sketches of the
+varied private and public entertainments in which he had participated.
+Nan listened with lady-like composure, putting in an occasional word;
+and when the meal was over they retired to the private parlour. They
+sat down opposite to each other, and then Anne commenced her invective.
+She pointed out that he had deliberately chosen literature as a
+profession, and having gained a slight success, was now idling away his
+time in London, among a set of people who could do him no good, and who
+were, she thought, but of very doubtful reputation.
+
+‘Wrong there, Nan!’ he interrupted. ‘I admit I don’t quite move in
+the inner circle. Still the people I know seem to have plenty of
+money, and are respectable enough; and I find them useful. I meet with
+journalists among them, and have been able to dispose of a good many of
+my manuscripts. And you would notice I was staying for a few days with
+Sir Hew Crayton. Now, you know it does a literary man a deal of good—in
+public estimation—to be taken notice of by a baronet.’
+
+‘I am sorry to hear you talking in that way,’ she replied sadly,
+‘for it shows me your vanity has got the better of your good sense.
+Do you not see it was entirely through your article appearing in the
+_Olympic_ that you got your rejected manuscripts disposed of? As for
+your baronet, I don’t think you need boast of him. He stayed with us
+for a month, four years ago, and left without paying his bill. Papa
+made inquiry about him, and found he made a swindling living by lending
+his name as director to bogus Limited Companies. Likely he would borrow
+money from you?’
+
+Alfred was forced to admit that he had obliged him with a loan.
+
+‘Now, Alfred,’ she continued gravely, ‘I have decidedly made up my mind
+that it would be better for us both that our engagement should come to
+an end. If you continue in the life you are leading, I have no hope
+for your future; but even if you were successful, I could never marry
+you. Doubtless, you would expect me to mix with your new friends; that
+I could never do—if they are like what you describe them—and certain
+unhappiness would be the result. It is well for us both I have come to
+know this in time.’
+
+This was different sort of talk from what he had come to hear. It was
+tears and entreaties for their immediate union which he had expected.
+Still his vanity blinded him to the true import of her words. She had
+said she never could mix with his new friends; well, it was but proper
+modesty for her to say that. He would reassure her on that score, and
+all would be well yet.
+
+‘My dear Nan, I think you are talking a little hastily. No doubt you
+would feel a little awkward among the London ladies at first, but that
+would soon pass away. And Mrs Judson promised me to chaperon you a bit,
+and’——
+
+‘I wish to hear nothing more, sir, about Mrs Judson,’ she answered
+curtly.
+
+‘Well, Nan, she’s a good friend of yours. I told her all about our
+little affair. She said of course it would be a great sacrifice on my
+part; but she applauded my intention of acting honourably towards you,
+even although you were only an innkeeper’s daughter. Of course, it may
+be two or three years before I’——
+
+‘Stop!’ she cried, rising to her feet, her lips quivering and her
+cheeks as pale as death—‘stop, sir! I did not send for you here to
+insult me. Surely I have spoken plainly enough; but your head is so
+stuffed with selfish vanity, you cannot comprehend me. Our engagement
+is at an end. Here are all your letters and presents! You’ll return
+mine when you get to London.—Now, go!’
+
+As she said the last words, she drew herself up to her full height and
+pointed to the door. The action was perhaps a little theatrical; but
+when he looked at her white set face and flashing eyes, he saw plainly
+enough that she was acting no part. He fancied he had never seen her
+looking so handsome before; and he felt a sinking at his heart at the
+thought of having by his foolish letters and talk lost for ever this
+woman.
+
+‘You—you—are—angry just now, Nan. Do take time to’——
+
+‘Go!’ she repeated firmly, her hand still pointing to the door. Her
+face was marble in its inflexibility; he knew his doom was sealed.
+Making a poor show of indifferent self-possession, he rose and quitted
+the room.
+
+When he was fairly gone, Nan broke down entirely. Shutting herself up
+in her bedroom, she made use of the safety-valve provided by nature
+for her sex, and had a thoroughly good cry. Next morning, she was calm
+and self-possessed, although her eyes were red and heavy looking. Her
+cherished idol had crumbled into dust; and it became her, she thought,
+as a prudent damsel to sweep away the smallest trace of it from her
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+LONDON CHARITY ORGANISATION SOCIETY.
+
+
+The Society for Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity,
+or, as it is popularly called, the Charity Organisation Society, has
+for its object the scientific supervision of charity dispensation,
+in the deep-rooted conviction that slovenly and indiscriminate
+almsgiving is a most pernicious bane to society, and calculated to
+foster rather than diminish indigence. Personal inquiry is the keynote
+of the Society’s mode of operation. Trained, experienced, and apt
+persons—both honorary and paid—exhaustively investigate all cases of
+indigence brought under the Society’s notice. In each instance, one
+important point is established at the outset of the investigation,
+namely, whether the individual concerned must of necessity—through
+physical or other disability—habitually depend for sustenance upon the
+resources of others, or whether he or she possesses the latent means
+of self-support, which may be brought into action—under the fostering
+influence of personal guidance in moral and material things—after
+the temporary condition of poverty has been met by the judicious
+application of charity. Cases of the former description are relegated
+to the action of the poor-law—therein lying its true function; cases
+of the latter kind are taken in hand by the Society. But its action
+is not that of an individual charitable institution concerned merely
+with the distribution of its own resources. It acts as an intermediary
+between those who need charity and those who are anxious to devote
+money to charitable purposes. Hence, in the discharge of its functions,
+it places itself in connection both with benevolent individuals and
+benevolent bodies, seeking to secure the best relief for the different
+cases of destitution which come under its notice and at the same time
+to prevent ‘overlapping’ in charity dispensation. Where, however, it
+finds that a case of destitution cannot effectively be relieved from
+other sources, the Society brings its own funds into requisition. As to
+its function of ‘repressing mendicity,’ this it discharges by promoting
+the detection and prosecution of impostors.
+
+And now for a word or two about the mechanism, if we may so call
+it, of the Society. The organisation consists of a federation of
+forty district committees—one or more being established in each of
+the poor-law divisions of London—and of a Central Council, at which
+every committee is represented. The committees comprise, where it
+is possible, ministers of religion, guardians of the poor, and
+representatives of the principal local charities. Their function is to
+receive, investigate, and deal, according to the general principles
+of the Society, with all cases of alleged want or distress referred
+to them; and each is intended to form a common meeting-place—a centre
+of information and charitable work—for persons in the district
+desirous of benefiting the poor. The Central Council supervises
+besides endeavouring to strengthen and consolidate the work of the
+district committees, taking into consideration, as well, all questions
+of principle and all matters relating to the general action of the
+Society. Of course the scene of the Society’s main operations is
+the metropolitan poor-law district; but it is glad to give general
+assistance, by sending information to agencies outside that area. We
+may add that the example set by the Society has given birth to many
+foreign and provincial organisations of identical aims and action.
+
+It may be interesting to glance briefly at the broad method of
+investigation pursued by the inquiry officers—be they paid or
+honorary—of the Society. In treating a family, then, the following
+facts are in the first place arrived at: The ages of the parents; the
+amount of their earnings at the time of application and previously;
+the cause of their leaving their last employment; the ages of
+their children; and whether those children go to school (and if
+so, where)—or, if they are employed, what they earn. The previous
+addresses, with the references of the family, are next learned; and
+it is ascertained whether they belong to a club or have relatives who
+ought to assist them. Then inquiry is made as to whether the family
+have any debts hanging over them; what their rent is; how they are
+obtaining a living at the time of application; and, finally, how they
+think they can be thoroughly helped. Subsequently, it is the inquiry
+officer’s duty, among other things, to ascertain for himself the cause
+of the family’s distress, verifying the information they have supplied
+to him; to search out the best mode of helping; to familiarise himself
+with the character of the family, and find on whom, if its natural head
+be weak or incompetent, reliance can be placed to re-establish the
+family fortunes; and, lastly, to settle what means of future thrift and
+self-support can be fostered into life.
+
+Did space permit, we should like to give some characteristic examples
+of instances where the indigent have been raised to a state of
+independence by the well-advised action of the Society, and tell how
+the workhouse itself has been made to yield material with which to work
+so happy a transformation. Some reference, too, would be justified to
+the numerous special questions in connection with which the Society has
+seen cause to take action. But we have said enough perhaps to effect
+our immediate purpose and indicate the nature of the Society and the
+scope of its operations. A considerable literature has grown around the
+Charity Organisation Society, and this is accessible to all who visit
+the central office of the institution, 15 Buckingham Street, Adelphi,
+London, whither all communications to the Secretary, Mr C. L. Loch,
+should be addressed.
+
+
+
+
+THE DENSCHMAN’S HAD.
+
+A LEGEND OF SHETLAND.
+
+
+From Widwick to Hermaness the cliffs rise steep and high from a deep
+ocean, so deep that a large ship might float alongside of the crags
+without danger of scraping her keel. What would be the fate of such
+a vessel, if she were carried by the might of that sea against that
+iron wall, I leave you to imagine. The rocks are broken all along
+their range by fissures and caves, inaccessible from the land, and
+scarcely approachable from the sea. He is a bold voyager who brings
+even a boat to thread the ‘baas’ and ‘stacks’—submerged rocks and
+needle-crags—which guard the way to those haunts of sea-fowl and seals.
+One of the caves is named the Denschman’s Had. I ought to explain that
+a ‘had’ means the den of a wild beast, his stronghold; and ‘Denschman’
+is ‘Dane.’
+
+In old days, Shetland (or Hialtland) was nothing more than a ‘had’ of
+vikinger, those pirates of the North who have so often been confounded
+with the noble sea-kings of Scandinavia; but while the islands belonged
+to Norway, their inhabitants were under powerful protection, and
+suffered little inconvenience from the uses to which the sea-rovers
+turned the sheltered voes and secluded islets. It was only when
+Scottish rule came in that the vikinger of Norway and Denmark turned
+their weapons against their brother-Norsemen of the Shetland Isles.
+During the times of the Stuarts, Scotland had enough to do to look
+after itself, far less to extend protection to an outlying dependency
+that was more plague than profit. Indeed, the Scottish kings and nobles
+seem to have regarded Hialtland as fair game, and robbed and oppressed
+the people after as cruel a method as that of the northern pirates.
+Between the two, those islands had a hot time of it; and the islanders,
+once a prosperous community, sank into poverty and hopeless serfdom.
+
+About the time of Mary Stuart, the isle of Unst was harassed by a noted
+viking whose name and lineage were unknown. He and his daring crew
+were believed to be Danes, and his swift barque—appropriately named
+the _Erne_—and his stalwart person were familiar to the affrighted
+eyes of the islanders. When the Denschman swooped upon the isle, its
+inhabitants fled to the hills and rocks, leaving their homes as spoil
+for the lawless rover. What else could they do? The enemy were strong,
+reckless, brave, well armed and well disciplined. The islanders,
+groaning and disheartened under the yoke of an alien power, were at
+the mercy of might, and could neither resist nor make treaty; so the
+Denschman came and went like the fierce bird of prey whose name his
+vessel bore, and no man dared oppose him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One midsummer evening, a westerly squall arose which sent the
+fishing-boats flying to the shelter of their voes and vicks. Those
+storms rise and fall with tropical rapidity and violence. Six hours
+after it was at its height, the wind had fallen to an ordinary fresh
+breeze, the sky was smiling as before, and only the wrathful surf,
+rolling white and broken under the influence of a changing tide,
+remained to tell of the tempest. All the boats had returned in safety,
+and there should have been rejoicing in Unst; but instead, men frowned
+and women trembled, for the fishers had brought news that the Denschman
+was on the coast: his well-known sail had been seen hovering beyond
+the holms of Gloup; he was coming upon the wings of the westerly wind;
+he would be on the Westing Bicht ere long. There was no landing-place
+available—with such a heavy sea—on that side of the island; but the
+Denschman knew what he was about, doubtless. He would scud to the
+nor’ard, fly round the Flugga skerries and Skau, would lay-to, and
+bide his time till dusk drew down; then he would alight on the eastern
+shore, and work his wild will upon the defenceless isle. Such had been
+his tactics aforetime. The people ran to the high lands of Vaalafiel
+and Patester to mark the Denschman’s course, for where he meant to
+land, _there_ they must not be.
+
+Soon the _Erne_ was descried emerging from a mist of spindrift, and
+bearing swiftly towards Unst, heading straight for the isle, and not—as
+the folk had supposed—skirting the coast. Did the vikinger mean to
+bring their vessel to harbour among those crags, where the sea was in
+such a turmoil? Was the _Erne_ a demon-ship that could dare everything
+and perform such a feat? On he came right before the wind with a
+following tide; but when well in the Westing Bicht, some experienced
+seamen affirmed that there must be something wrong aboard, for the
+_Erne_ did not rise on the waves with its usual buoyancy; he seemed to
+plunge madly forward, as if in fierce conflict with the ocean he had
+ruled so long. By-and-by it was seen that the vessel laboured more and
+more, yet carried full sail, as if on speed depended salvation.
+
+‘I would not say but he’s sprung a leak, or the like,’ said an old
+udaller among the onlookers. ‘Who but a madman would bring a ship
+in-shore like yon, if all was taut aboard!’
+
+‘That is so,’ remarked a seaman. ‘Without doubt, he’s in straits;
+and he’s going to try to beach on the Aire of Widwick. It’s his only
+chance, and a poor one.’
+
+‘Pray the powers he may not make the Aire,’ replied the old man; ‘and
+I’m thinking,’ he added, ‘that the powers will hear us. There is
+something fatal amiss with that evil one. See yon! He’s not obeying his
+helm; he’s just driving with wind and tide. He’s in a mighty strait,
+praise the Lord!’
+
+‘If he misses the Aire, he’ll go in _shallmillens_ [the fragments of
+eggshell] upon the baas of Flübersgerdie,’ said a fisherman, with a
+grim smile; and all cried out: ‘Pray the powers it may be so!’
+
+As if the powers thus invoked were ready to prove their immediate
+willingness to answer the cry of the oppressed, the wind veered more to
+the west, and carried the disabled ship against the holm of Widwick, a
+small islet which lies off the creek, and wards from it the full force
+of the North Atlantic. If the _Erne_ had stranded on the holm, some
+of his crew might have effected a landing there; but that was not the
+end of the viking’s barque; she reeled back from the holm with a gash
+in her side that was a death-wound indeed, and drifted onwards once
+more. Now, would she gain the creek? No! In a few moments the _Erne_
+was carried past the little harbour, where lay the sole chance of
+deliverance, and then crashed among the rocks of Flübersgerdie.
+
+‘Praise to the powers that are above all!’ cried the men of Unst, and
+even gentle-hearted women rejoiced as the Denschman, barque and crew,
+disappeared among the breakers.
+
+The people returned to their homes, happy in the thought that the rocks
+of Fatherland had proved able protectors, and that Unst was for ever
+rid of its most dreaded foe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days and two nights passed. No trace of the storm was left. A
+boat put off from Widwick with the intention of saving such portions
+of the _Erne_ as would certainly be drifting among the skerries near
+Flübersgerdie. The men could tell by the state of the tides and the
+wind exactly where the wreckage was to be found, and they made for
+the spot, never doubting that some spoil would be there to reward
+them. As they approached the submerged reef where the _Erne_ finished
+her career, the skipper, alluding to the dreaded Denschman, said:
+‘Well did he deserve what he met here! Think our isle would give him
+foothold!—our isle, that he has harried this ten year and more! No, no!’
+
+Scarcely were the words spoken, when one of the fishermen called out
+excitedly: ‘Lord be about us, men, what’s yon?’—and he pointed to a
+cave situated in the cliff opposite the reef.
+
+All gazed, and were struck dumb, for, on a ledge within the mouth of
+the helyer (cave) stood a man—the man! the Denschman, alive, stalwart,
+terrible as ever, and brandishing his sword, as if defying mortal to
+molest him.
+
+The boat was instantly backed, and when the islanders had put what
+they considered a safe distance between themselves and their dreaded
+foeman, the men consulted together. Should they make a bold attack?
+The Denschman was alone; they were six in number. Surely, they could
+overpower him, tired and despairing as he must be. Yes. But one, or
+even two of their number were likely to fall before his sword ere he
+could be conquered. Who was patriot enough ‘to lead such dire attack?’
+No one of that crew! Then should they leave him to die of exhaustion,
+as he must ere long? There was no way of escape. The lofty precipice
+overhung the cave, precluding any scheme of climbing upwards; on either
+side, the _aiguille_ crags rose from a seething depth of sea; in front,
+a reef of sunken rocks covered with fretful surf, dared the bravest
+swimmer that ever breasted waves to pass alive.
+
+The Denschman had evidently reached his present refuge by aid of a
+large plank belonging to the _Erne_, which still floated near the cave.
+When they had recovered every vestige of the wreck which floated, he
+could not escape. It was beyond the power of man to leave that cave
+unaided from without. Help must come from ropes lowered from the land
+above, or boats brought to the cave. And who was there in Unst would
+bring rope or boat to aid the Denschman? None!
+
+‘Let him die the death!’ said the men whose homes the viking had
+devastated. So they ventured nearer, and removed every floating spar or
+plank, then returned to Widwick; and it was told in the isle that the
+Denschman had survived his barque and crew only to meet a more terrible
+death. No man pitied him; no man dreamt of giving him succour. Those
+were days when the gentler feelings had little part in men’s warfare,
+and no red cross of healing followed battle ensigns to the field of
+fight.
+
+Next day, a number of boats put off, that men might feast their eyes
+on the dead or dying viking; and many saw him. That day, he was seated
+on the ledge of rock glowering at them; but he made no sign of either
+submission or defiance. ‘He grows weak,’ they said, and wondered that
+even the Denschman’s tough and giant frame had so long withstood the
+exposure and starvation.
+
+A third time the islanders sought the rocks of Flübersgerdie and saw
+the pirate chief as before. Then they began to fear, and to say that he
+must be allied to potent powers of evil; for how, otherwise, could he
+have survived there so long? The interior of the helyer could be seen
+from a little distance: no food or clothing had been saved from the
+wreck to be secreted there. The prisoner was always seen sitting on the
+cold bare ledge where he had been first discovered, and the people were
+satisfied that the cave held no means of sustenance.
+
+Day by day for a whole fortnight boats were guided to Flübersgerdie,
+and men gazed in awe, but did not venture to molest the Denschman, who
+merely returned their stare with haughty glances, and never deigned
+to bespeak their compassion. Dread of the supernatural added its
+paralysing effects to the terror which the viking’s fame had implanted,
+and there was not a man found brave enough to attack the Denschman in
+his ‘had.’
+
+Then heaviness fell on the men’s spirits, for wives and mothers
+upbraided them as cowards; their little ones shrieked and hid their
+faces when it was told that the bugbear of their dreams was making his
+‘had’ in an Unst helyer; and at last, driven by shame and a remnant of
+manly courage, the islanders determined on attacking their enemy. They
+would discover if he were immortal; they would prove if the powers of
+evil were above those of good.
+
+A fleet of boats was got ready, laden with sharp stones, which were
+to be cast at the foe—a safe mode of onslaught! The islanders armed
+themselves with staves and axes. Nets were prepared, in whose toils
+the Denschman should fall if he, by any strange chance, came to close
+quarters. The oldest udaller in the isle ordered his best boat to be
+launched and consecrated, to lead the attack. A day was fixed upon. It
+had been ascertained on the previous evening that the Denschman was
+still in his ‘had,’ alive and strong. No one doubted by that time that
+there he would remain while the island remained, if not ousted by force
+and the help of holy powers; or if not aided by demons to rise and
+blight the isle.
+
+‘Pray,’ said the old udaller to his three fair daughters, who stood
+to see him embark in the consecrated boat—‘pray that I bring the
+Denschman’s dishonoured corpse back with me.’
+
+‘We will pray,’ said the golden-haired maidens.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But what consternation there was on the Aire of Widwick, a few minutes
+later, when it was found that the old man’s boat—the largest and best
+in the isle, the skiff that was to have led the attack—had disappeared!
+She had not sunk into the pellucid water, else she had been easily
+recovered; she had not floated out to sea, for the tide was running
+landwards; yet she had gone as completely as if she had owned feet to
+carry her over earth, or wings to fly through air. To be sure, the boat
+had both feet and wings of a kind, but these were of use on the ocean
+alone. And she was gone—oars and sails too! Doubtless, her flight had
+been on her native element; but some man’s hand must have spread her
+wings or moved her feet. Then who had stolen the udaller’s boat? No
+Hialtlander, be sure! Robbery was never the vice of those islanders;
+moreover, such a theft could have been brought home to a native easily.
+
+One fisherman, more acute than his neighbours, whispered: ‘None but
+the Denschman has done this;’ and with common assent, all echoed: ‘The
+Denschman has done this.’
+
+Boats instantly put off and sped to Flübersgerdie, where confirmation
+of those suspicions was not wanting. The Denschman was no longer in the
+cave. He had been there, hale and terrible, on the previous evening;
+he had vanished that morning, and left no trace behind. ‘It must have
+been the Evil One himself,’ said the folk; and there was gloom in the
+isle, trembling, and much fear, for all expected that ere long the
+Denschman would descend upon Unst, and, fired by revenge, deal worse
+havoc than even that of former days.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But days and weeks went past, and nothing further was known of the
+Denschman or the udaller’s boat, and still the people feared their
+ancient foe and looked for his return. None doubted that he survived.
+The man who could live in unabated vigour through a fortnight without
+food or fire in a dark ocean cave, who could find means of leaving his
+prison, and could spirit away a large boat—such a one was not likely
+to have perished on the sea. Yes, without doubt, the Denschman would
+return to Unst; ‘and heaven help us when he comes!’ said the islanders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then it happened one autumn afternoon that a stranger vessel was
+seen, on the Westing Bicht, making tacks for the isle. The people
+had always cause to suspect an unknown sail, and they watched the
+stranger’s approach with some fear. As he drew nearer, it was observed
+that he closely resembled the _Erne_ of old, but carried the white
+flag of peace. The Norland pirates ever scorned to conceal their true
+character, which was never a treacherous one, but flaunted their
+ruthless blood-red colours in the face of day. If a viking hoisted
+the white banner, he meant peace; and so well was this known, and so
+thoroughly could all men trust in the good faith of a viking, that
+the islanders instantly sent off a boat to the vessel, though they
+suspected it was a pirate ship. The stranger had a boat in tow, and
+when the islanders came near, he lay-to and allowed them to come
+alongside of his convoy. What was the fishermen’s astonishment to find
+that the boat was no other than that of the Unst udaller!
+
+Then a stern voice spoke from the ship. ‘Come not nearer,’ it said,
+in a patois half-Danish, half-English, which the Hialtlanders could
+interpret well enough. ‘Come not nearer; but undo the tow-line, and
+take that boat to its owner. It is freighted with goodly gifts for
+the udaller’s three fair daughters, who will know whence those tokens
+come.—And know, ye hinds of Unst, that ye owe your lives and all that
+makes life precious to the golden-haired maidens.—Begone!’ Then the
+speaker—easily recognised as the Denschman—made imperious sign to his
+mariners, who speedily put the vessel on another tack, and before many
+minutes he was running out to sea again.
+
+The islanders towed the laden boat ashore, where a throng was waiting
+their return. Numerous questions were asked, numerous conjectures made.
+The udaller and his daughters were summoned and the precious cargo
+displayed. Table utensils of silver, personal ornaments of gold, silken
+stuffs and snowy linens, rich wines and fruits, and precious grain,
+whatever could please feminine taste, were spread before the wondering
+people, while the three sisters stood mute and blushing, now cowering
+with strange shame, anon glancing with curious pride at all around.
+
+Presently, their old father addressed them in grave and troubled
+tones: ‘Tell us the meaning of this strange _güdic_ [riddle].’
+
+At that, the two younger girls fell on their knees and clasped his
+hands entreatingly, while the eldest sister cried: ‘O father, do not be
+angered, and I will tell ye all. We heard you speak of the Denschman
+in his sore strait with nobody to pity him. It’s true he had dealt
+cruelly by our isle; but—but, O father, it lay heavy on our hearts
+that a man—and such a man, with such a goodly presence and such a bold
+spirit—should die like an otter trapped in a snare; and so, we—we went
+to the rock in the dark hour of nicht, and we lowered a _keschie_
+[basket] to him with food and cordials and clothes—everything to keep
+in life. And then—when we knew that our men meant to stone the poor
+defenceless captive to death, our souls were melted with pity; so we
+took the boat and helped him to escape. _We_ were not afraid of the
+Denschman; and, truth to tell, he can be kind and gentle like other
+men. Or ere he left the isle—all in the mirk hour—he promised that,
+because of what we had done, he would never harry Unst again. No doubt,
+it was wrong of us, father; but then, oh, be mindful that the plight
+he was in could not fail to touch lasses’ hearts. And if good instead
+of harm come of it—nay, _has_ come of it—ye need not trouble yourself
+more, but forgive us, and trust the Denschman to keep his word. He
+will do so. We all know that a viking stands to his promise, whate’er
+betide.’
+
+‘The lass has spoken words of wisdom,’ said a prudent matron, eyeing
+the viking’s royal gifts; and a laughing seaman added: ‘Ay, and what
+would come of us poor men if lasses were not pitiful, and not just
+altogether wise at times!’
+
+So the old udaller forgave his daughters, and—as legend says—‘after
+that Unst was often benefited, and never more harried, by the
+Denschman,’ whose ‘had’ is still pointed out to the inquiring stranger.
+
+
+
+
+AN ELECTRICAL FURNACE.
+
+
+Some of the enormous power which runs waste at the Falls of Niagara
+is about to be utilised at last, and, strangely enough, the first
+work required of the water will be the smelting of refractory ores.
+This new undertaking is to be carried out by the Cowles Electrical
+Furnace Company, the inventors of the process being Messrs Eugene
+H. and Alfred H. Cowles. Their experimental works at Cleveland,
+Ohio, have been so successful, that they were awarded the John Scott
+premium and the Elliot Cresson medal of the Franklin Institute. While
+labouring under various disadvantages, the Company was yet able to
+produce metallic combinations that promise to be of great importance,
+such as aluminium bronze, aluminium silver, aluminium brass, and
+silicon bronze in ingots, castings, wire, and rolled metal. Some of
+these alloys were manufactured into different articles in every-day
+use. They exhibited screws of aluminium brass; knives with blades of
+aluminium silver, and handles of aluminium bronze; together with a
+number of other manufactured articles. Aluminium bronze is stronger
+than steel, is not so liable to rust, and, being elastic and ductile,
+if it can be produced at a cheap enough rate, it should have a great
+future before it. For instance, cycles made of it would be lighter,
+stronger, and more easily kept clean than those made of steel. This
+industry alone should create a large demand. Silicon bronze, also,
+from its electric conductivity, tensile strength, lightness, and
+non-corrosiveness, will be a desirable substitute for iron and copper
+in telegraphy; while aluminium silver—an alloy containing the special
+bronze with nickel—will be serviceable for cutlery and fancy articles.
+Pure aluminium, however, has this great disadvantage, that it tarnishes
+readily, and unless something can be done to remedy the defect, its
+usefulness will be considerably restricted. At the same time, these
+alloys bid fair to supplant steel and other metals in the manufacture
+of light articles where strength and appearance are desirable.
+
+A dynamo larger than any yet constructed is at present being made
+for the Company at Lockport, New York. As already stated, it will be
+driven by water, acting on turbines. The contemplated works will, it
+is estimated, yield about three hundred thousand horse-power, and this
+only represents a fraction of the power that is running to waste at
+Niagara.
+
+
+
+
+WHO KNOWS?
+
+
+    I grant her fair, ay, passing fair,
+      As lovely as a budding rose;
+    But is there soul behind that face,
+    A beauty ’neath that outward grace?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Does light of love beam from those eyes?—
+      The love that in her bosom glows?
+    Or is the light that lingers there
+    Delusive, though it shine so fair?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Does that fair form a fairer charm,
+      A tender, loving heart inclose?
+    A heart whose tendrils, like the vine,
+    Would round the heart that loved it twine?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    And should life’s sky be overcast,
+      And gathering clouds around thee close,
+    Should fortune frown and false friends flee,
+    Would that heart still cling close to thee?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Or is she, can she ever be,
+      As fickle as the wind that blows,
+    And veers as if it were at play,
+    Trifling with all who own her sway?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    But why a prey to doubt remain?
+      Why halt ’twixt hope and fear?—propose.
+    She may be waiting till you dare,
+    To crown with love that beauty rare.
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+        JOHN NAPIER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
+and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_All Rights Reserved._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text.
+
+Page 676: du to de la—“l’ami de la famille”.]
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***