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diff --git a/78167-0.txt b/78167-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46d2a8a --- /dev/null +++ b/78167-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2405 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78167 *** + + + “_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE. + + + + + HOUSEHOLD WORDS. + A WEEKLY JOURNAL. + + CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. + + + N^{o.} 4.] SATURDAY, APRIL 20, 1850. [PRICE 2_d._ + + + + + SOME ACCOUNT OF AN EXTRAORDINARY TRAVELLER. + + +No longer ago than this Easter time last past, we became acquainted with +the subject of the present notice. Our knowledge of him is not by any +means an intimate one, and is only of a public nature. We have never +interchanged any conversation with him, except on one occasion when he +asked us to have the goodness to take off our hat, to which we replied +‘Certainly.’ + +MR. BOOLEY was born (we believe) in Rood Lane, in the City of London. He +is now a gentleman advanced in life, and has for some years resided in +the neighbourhood of Islington. His father was a wholesale grocer +(perhaps), and he was (possibly) in the same way of business; or he may, +at an early age, have become a clerk in the Bank of England, or in a +private bank, or in the India House. It will be observed that we make no +pretence of having any information in reference to the private history +of this remarkable man, and that our account of it must be received as +rather speculative than authentic. + +In person MR. BOOLEY is below the middle size, and corpulent. His +countenance is florid, he is perfectly bald, and soon hot; and there is +a composure in his gait and manner, calculated to impress a stranger +with the idea of his being, on the whole, an unwieldy man. It is only in +his eye that the adventurous character of MR. BOOLEY is seen to shine. +It is a moist, bright eye, of a cheerful expression, and indicative of +keen and eager curiosity. + +It was not until late in life that MR. BOOLEY conceived the idea of +entering on the extraordinary amount of travel he has since +accomplished. He had attained the age of sixty-five, before he left +England for the first time. In all the immense journies he has since +performed, he has never laid aside the English dress, nor departed in +the slightest degree from English customs. Neither does he speak a word +of any language but his own. + +MR. BOOLEY’S powers of endurance are wonderful. All climates are alike +to him. Nothing exhausts him; no alternations of heat and cold appear to +have the least effect upon his hardy frame. His capacity of travelling, +day and night, for thousands of miles, has never been approached by any +traveller of whom we have any knowledge through the help of books. An +intelligent Englishman may have occasionally pointed out to him objects +and scenes of interest; but otherwise he has travelled alone, and +unattended. Though remarkable for personal cleanliness, he has carried +no luggage; and his diet has been of the simplest kind. He has often +found a biscuit, or a bun, sufficient for his support over a vast tract +of country. Frequently, he has travelled hundreds of miles, fasting, +without the least abatement of his natural spirits. It says much for the +Total Abstinence cause, that MR. BOOLEY has never had recourse to the +artificial stimulus of alcohol, to sustain him under his fatigues. + +His first departure from the sedentary and monotonous life he had +hitherto led, strikingly exemplifies, we think, the energetic character, +long suppressed by that unchanging routine. Without any communication +with any member of his family—MR. BOOLEY has never been married, but has +many relations—without announcing his intention to his solicitor, or +banker, or any person entrusted with the management of his affairs, he +closed the door of his house behind him at one o’clock in the afternoon +of a certain day, and immediately proceeded to New Orleans, in the +United States of America. + +His intention was to ascend the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, to the +base of the Rocky Mountains. Taking his passage in a steamboat without +loss of time, he was soon upon the bosom of the Father of Waters, as the +Indians call the mighty stream which, night and day, is always carrying +huge instalments of the vast continent of the New World, down into the +sea. + +MR. BOOLEY found it singularly interesting to observe the various stages +of civilisation obtaining on the banks of these mighty rivers. Leaving +the luxury and brightness of New Orleans—a somewhat feverish luxury and +brightness, he observed, as if the swampy soil were too much enriched in +the hot sun with the bodies of dead slaves—and passing various towns in +every stage of progress, it was very curious to observe the changes of +civilisation and of vegetation too. Here, where the doomed Negro race +were working in the plantations, while the republican overseer looked +on, whip in hand, tropical trees were growing, beautiful flowers in +bloom; the alligator, with his horribly sly face, and his jaws like two +great saws, was basking on the mud; and the strange moss of the country +was hanging in wreaths and garlands on the trees, like votive offerings. +A little farther towards the west, and the trees and flowers were +changed, the moss was gone, younger infant towns were rising, forests +were slowly disappearing, and the trees, obliged to aid in the +destruction of their kind, fed the heavily-breathing monster that came +clanking up those solitudes, laden with the pioneers of the advancing +human army. The river itself, that moving highway, showed him every kind +of floating contrivance, from the lumbering flat-bottomed boat, and the +raft of logs, upward to the steamboat, and downward to the poor Indian’s +frail canoe. A winding thread through the enormous range of country, +unrolling itself before the wanderer like the magic skein in the story, +he saw it tracked by wanderers of every kind, roaming from the more +settled world, to those first nests of men. The floating theatre, +dwelling-house, hotel, museum, shop; the floating mechanism for screwing +the trunks of mighty trees out of the mud, like antediluvian teeth; the +rapidly-flowing river, and the blazing woods; he left them all +behind—town, city, and log-cabin, too; and floated up into the prairies +and savannahs, among the deserted lodges of tribes of savages, and among +their dead, lying alone on little wooden stages with their stark faces +upward towards the sky. Among the blazing grass, and herds of buffaloes +and wild horses, and among the wigwams of the fast-declining Indians, he +began to consider how, in the eternal current of progress setting across +this globe in one unchangeable direction, like the unseen agency that +points the needle to the pole, the Chiefs who only dance the dances of +their fathers, and will never have a new figure for a new tune, and the +Medicine-men who know no Medicine but what was Medicine a hundred years +ago, must be surely and inevitably swept from the earth, whether they be +Choctawas, Mandans, Britons, Austrians, or Chinese. + +He was struck, too, by the reflection that savage nature was not by any +means such a fine and noble spectacle as some delight to represent it. +He found it a poor, greasy, paint-plastered, miserable thing enough; but +a very little way above the beasts in most respects; in many customs a +long way below them. It occurred to him that the ‘Big Bird,’ or the +‘Blue Fish,’ or any of the other Braves, was but a troublesome braggart +after all; making a mighty whooping and holloaing about nothing +particular, doing very little for science, not much more than the +monkeys for art, scarcely anything worth mentioning for letters, and not +often making the world greatly better than he found it. Civilisation, +MR. BOOLEY concluded, was, on the whole, with all its blemishes, a more +imposing sight, and a far better thing to stand by. + +MR. BOOLEY’S observations of the celestial bodies, on this voyage, were +principally confined to the discovery of the alarming fact, that light +had altogether departed from the moon; which presented the appearance of +a white dinner-plate. The clouds, too, conducted themselves in an +extraordinary manner, and assumed the most eccentric forms, while the +sun rose and set in a very reckless way. On his return to his native +country, however, he had the satisfaction of finding all these things as +usual. + +It might have been expected that at his advanced age, retired from the +active duties of life, blest with a competency, and happy in the +affections of his numerous relations, MR. BOOLEY would now have settled +himself down, to muse, for the remainder of his days, over the new stock +of experience thus acquired. But travel had whetted, not satisfied, his +appetite; and remembering that he had not seen the Ohio river, except at +the point of its junction with the Mississippi, he returned to the +United States, after a short interval of repose, and appearing suddenly +at Cincinnati, the queen City of the West, traversed the clear waters of +the Ohio to its Falls. In this expedition he had the pleasure of +encountering a party of intelligent workmen from Birmingham who were +making the same tour. Also his nephew Septimus, aged only thirteen. This +intrepid boy had started from Peckham, in the old country, with two and +sixpence sterling in his pocket; and had, when he encountered his uncle +at a point of the Ohio River, called Snaggy Bar, still one shilling of +that sum remaining! + +Again at home, MR. BOOLEY was so pressed by his appetite for knowledge +as to remain at home only one day. At the expiration of that short +period, he actually started for New Zealand. + +It is almost incredible that a man in MR. BOOLEY’S station of life, +however adventurous his nature, and however few his artificial wants, +should cast himself on a voyage of thirteen thousand miles from Great +Britain with no other outfit than his watch and purse, and no arms but +his walking-stick. We are, however, assured on the best authority, that +thus he made the passage out, and thus appeared, in the act of wiping +his smoking head with his pocket-handkerchief, at the entrance to Port +Nicholson in Cook’s Straits: with the very spot within his range of +vision, where his illustrious predecessor, Captain Cook, so unhappily +slain at Otaheite, once anchored. + +After contemplating the swarms of cattle maintained on the hills in this +neighbourhood, and always to be found by the stockmen when they are +wanted, though nobody takes any care of them—which MR. BOOLEY considered +the more remarkable, as their natural objection to be killed might be +supposed to be augmented by the beauty of the climate—MR. BOOLEY +proceeded to the town of Wellington. Having minutely examined it in +every point, and made himself perfect master of the whole natural +history and process of manufacture of the flax-plant, with its splendid +yellow blossoms, he repaired to a Native Pa, which, unlike the Native Pa +to which he was accustomed, he found to be a town, and not a parent. +Here he observed a Chief with a long spear, making every demonstration +of spitting a visitor, but really giving him the Maori or welcome—a word +MR. BOOLEY is inclined to derive from the known hospitality of our +English Mayors—and here also he observed some Europeans rubbing noses, +by way of shaking hands, with the aboriginal inhabitants. After +participating in an affray between the natives and the English soldiery, +in which the former were defeated with great loss, he plunged into the +Bush, and there camped out for some months, until he had made a survey +of the whole country. + +While leading this wild life, encamped by night near a stream for the +convenience of water, in a Ware, or hut, built open in the front, with a +roof sloping backward to the ground, and made of poles, covered and +enclosed with bark or fern, it was MR. BOOLEY’S singular fortune to +encounter Miss Creeble, of The Misses Creebles’ Boarding and Day +Establishment for Young Ladies, Kennington Oval, who, accompanied by +three of her young ladies in search of information, had achieved this +marvellous journey, and was then also in the Bush. Miss Creeble having +very unsettled opinions on the subject of gunpowder, was afraid that it +entered into the composition of the fire before the tent, and that +something would presently blow up or go off. MR. BOOLEY, as a more +experienced traveller, assuring her that there was no danger; and +calming the fears of the young ladies, an acquaintance commenced between +them. They accomplished the rest of their travels in New Zealand +together, and the best understanding prevailed among the little party. +They took notice of the trees, as the Kaikatea, the Kauri, the Ruta, the +Pukatea, the Hinau, and the Tanakaka—names which Miss Creeble had a +bland relish in pronouncing. They admired the beautiful, arborescent, +palm-like fern, abounding everywhere, and frequently exceeding thirty +feet in height. They wondered at the curious owl, who is supposed to +demand ‘More Pork!’ wherever he flies, and whom Miss Creeble termed ‘an +admonition of Nature’s against greediness!’ And they contemplated some +very rampant natives, of cannibal propensities. After many pleasing and +instructive vicissitudes, they returned to England in company, where the +ladies were safely put into a hackney cabriolet by MR. BOOLEY, in +Leicester Square, London. + +And now, indeed, it might have been imagined that that roving spirit, +tired of rambling about the world, would have settled down at home in +peace and honor. Not so. After repairing to the tubular bridge across +the Menai Straits, and accompanying Her Majesty on her visit to Ireland +(which he characterised as ‘a magnificent Exhibition’), MR. BOOLEY, with +his usual absence of preparation, departed for Australia. + +Here again, he lived out in the Bush, passing his time chiefly among the +working-gangs of convicts who were carrying timber. He was much +impressed by the ferocious mastiffs chained to barrels, who assist the +sentries in keeping guard over those misdoers. But he observed that the +atmosphere in this part of the world, unlike the descriptions he had +read of it, was extremely thick, and that objects were misty, and +difficult to be discerned. From a certain unsteadiness and trembling, +too, which he frequently remarked on the face of Nature, he was led to +conclude that this part of the globe was subject to convulsive heavings +and earthquakes. This caused him to return, with some precipitation. + +Again at home, and probably reflecting that the countries he had +hitherto visited were new in the history of man, this extraordinary +traveller resolved to proceed up the Nile to the second cataract. At the +next performance of the great ceremony of ‘opening the Nile,’ at Cairo, +MR. BOOLEY was present. + +Along that wonderful river, associated with such stupendous fables, and +with a history more prodigious than any fancy of man, in its vast and +gorgeous facts; among temples, palaces, pyramids, colossal statues, +crocodiles, tombs, obelisks, mummies, sand and ruin; he proceeded, like +an opium-eater in a mighty dream. Thebes rose before him. An avenue of +two hundred sphinxes, with not a head among them,—one of six or eight, +or ten such avenues, all leading to a common centre,—conducted to the +Temple of Carnak: its walls, eighty feet high and twenty-five feet +thick, a mile and three-quarters in circumference; the interior of its +tremendous hall, occupying an area of forty-seven thousand square feet, +large enough to hold four great Christian churches, and yet not more +than one-seventh part of the entire ruin. Obelisks he saw, thousands of +years of age, as sharp as if the chisel had cut their edges yesterday; +colossal statues fifty-two feet high, with ‘little’ fingers five feet +and a half long; a very world of ruins, that were marvellous old ruins +in the days of Herodotus; tombs cut high up in the rock, where European +travellers live solitary, as in stony crows’ nests, burning mummied +Thebans, gentle and simple,—of the dried blood-royal maybe,—for their +daily fuel, and making articles of furniture of their dusty coffins. +Upon the walls of temples, in colors fresh and bright as those of +yesterday, he read the conquests of great Egyptian monarchs; upon the +tombs of humbler people in the same blooming symbols, he saw their +ancient way of working at their trades, of riding, driving, feasting, +playing games; of marrying and burying, and performing on instruments, +and singing songs, and healing by the power of animal magnetism, and +performing all the occupations of life. He visited the quarries of +Silsileh, whence nearly all the red stone used by the ancient Egyptian +architects and sculptors came; and there beheld enormous single-stoned +colossal figures nearly finished—redly snowed up, as it were, and trying +hard to break out—waiting for the finishing touches, never to be given +by the mummied hands of thousands of years ago. In front of the temple +of Abou Simbel, he saw gigantic figures sixty feet in height and +twenty-one across the shoulders, dwarfing live men on camels down to +pigmies. Elsewhere he beheld complacent monsters tumbled down like +ill-used Dolls of a Titanic make, and staring with stupid benignity at +the arid earth whereon their huge faces rested. His last look of that +amazing land was at the Great Sphinx, buried in the sand—sand in its +eyes, sand in its ears, sand drifted on its broken nose, sand lodging, +feet deep, in the ledges of its head—struggling out of a wide sea of +sand, as if to look hopelessly forth for the ancient glories once +surrounding it. + +In this expedition, MR. BOOLEY acquired some curious information in +reference to the language of hieroglyphics. He encountered the Simoom in +the Desert, and lay down, with the rest of his caravan, until it had +passed over. He also beheld on the horizon some of those stalking +pillars of sand, apparently reaching from earth to heaven, which, with +the red sun shining through them, so terrified the Arabs attendant on +Bruce, that they fell prostrate, crying that the Day of Judgment was +come. More Copts, Turks, Arabs, Fellahs, Bedouins, Mosques, Mamelukes, +and Moosulmen he saw, than we have space to tell. His days were all +Arabian Nights, and he saw wonders without end. + +This might have satiated any ordinary man, for a time at least. But MR. +BOOLEY, being no ordinary man, within twenty-four hours of his arrival +at home was making The Overland Journey to India. + +He has emphatically described this, as ‘a beautiful piece of scenery,’ +and ‘a perfect picture.’ The appearance of Malta and Gibraltar he can +never sufficiently commend. In crossing the Desert from Grand Cairo to +Suez, he was particularly struck by the undulations of the Sandscape (he +preferred that word to Landscape, as more expressive of the region), and +by the incident of beholding a caravan upon its line of march; a +spectacle which in the remembrance always affords him the utmost +pleasure. Of the stations on the Desert, and the cinnamon gardens of +Ceylon, he likewise entertains a lively recollection. Calcutta he +praises also; though he has been heard to observe that the British +military at that seat of Government were not as well proportioned as he +could desire the soldiers of his country to be; and that the breed of +horses there in use was susceptible of some improvement. + +Once more in his native land, with the vigor of his constitution +unimpaired by the many toils and fatigues he had encountered, what had +MR. BOOLEY now to do, but, full of years and honor, to recline upon the +grateful appreciation of his Queen and country, always eager to +distinguish peaceful merit? What had he now to do, but to receive the +decoration ever ready to be bestowed, in England, on men deservedly +distinguished, and to take his place among the best? He had this to do. +He had yet to achieve the most astonishing enterprise for which he was +reserved. In all the countries he had yet visited, he had seen no frost +and snow. He resolved to make a voyage to the ice-bound Arctic Regions. + +In pursuance of this surprising determination, MR. BOOLEY accompanied +the Expedition under Sir James Ross, consisting of Her Majesty’s ships, +the Enterprise and Investigator, which sailed from the river Thames on +the 12th of May, 1848, and which, on the 11th of September, entered Port +Leopold Harbor. + +In this inhospitable region, surrounded by eternal ice, cheered by no +glimpse of the sun, shrouded in gloom and darkness, MR. BOOLEY passed +the entire winter. The ships were covered in, and fortified all round +with walls of ice and snow; the masts were frozen up; hoar frost settled +on the yards, tops, shrouds, stays, and rigging; around, in every +direction, lay an interminable waste, on which only the bright stars, +the yellow moon, and the vivid Aurora Borealis looked, by night or day. + +And yet the desolate sublimity of this astounding spectacle was broken +in a pleasant and surprising manner. In the remote solitude to which he +had penetrated, MR. BOOLEY (who saw no Esquimaux during his stay, though +he looked for them in every direction) had the happiness of encountering +two Scotch gardeners; several English compositors, accompanied by their +wives; three brass founders from the neighbourhood of Long Acre, London; +two coach painters, a gold-beater and his only daughter, by trade a +stay-maker; and several other working-people from sundry parts of Great +Britain who had conceived the extraordinary idea of ‘holiday-making’ in +the frozen wilderness. Hither too, had Miss Creeble and her three young +ladies penetrated: the latter attired in braided peacoats of a +comparatively light material; and Miss Creeble defended from the +inclemency of a Polar Winter by no other outer garment than a wadded +Polka-jacket. He found this courageous lady in the act of explaining, to +the youthful sharers of her toils, the various phases of nature by which +they were surrounded. Her explanations were principally wrong, but her +intentions always admirable. + +Cheered by the society of these fellow-adventurers, MR. BOOLEY slowly +glided on into the summer season. And now, at midnight, all was bright +and shining. Mountains of ice, wedged and broken into the strangest +forms—jagged points, spires, pinnacles, pyramids, turrets, columns in +endless succession and in infinite variety, flashing and sparkling with +ten thousand hues, as though the treasures of the earth were frozen up +in all that water—appeared on every side. Masses of ice, floating and +driving hither and thither, menaced the hardy voyagers with destruction; +and threatened to crush their strong ships, like nutshells. But, below +those ships was clear sea-water, now; the fortifying walls were gone; +the yards, tops, shrouds and rigging, free from that hoary rust of long +inaction, showed like themselves again; and the sails, bursting from the +masts, like foliage which the welcome sun at length developed, spread +themselves to the wind, and wafted the travellers away. + +In the short interval that has elapsed since his safe return to the land +of his birth, MR. BOOLEY has decided on no new expedition; but he feels +that he will yet be called upon to undertake one, perhaps of greater +magnitude than any he has achieved, and frequently remarks, in his own +easy way, that he wonders where the deuce he will be taken to next! +Possessed of good health and good spirits, with powers unimpaired by all +he has gone through, and with an increase of appetite still growing with +what it feeds on, what may not be expected yet from this extraordinary +man! + +It was only at the close of Easter week that, sitting in an arm chair, +at a private Club called the Social Oysters, assembling at Highbury +Barn, where he is much respected, this indefatigable traveller expressed +himself in the following terms: + +‘It is very gratifying to me,’ said he, ‘to have seen so much at my time +of life, and to have acquired a knowledge of the countries I have +visited, which I could not have derived from books alone. When I was a +boy, such travelling would have been impossible, as the gigantic-moving +panorama or diorama mode of conveyance, which I have principally adopted +(all my modes of conveyance have been pictorial), had then not been +attempted. It is a delightful characteristic of these times, that new +and cheap means are continually being devised, for conveying the results +of actual experience, to those who are unable to obtain such experiences +for themselves; and to bring them within the reach of the +people—emphatically of the people; for it is they at large who are +addressed in these endeavours, and not exclusive audiences. Hence,’ said +MR. BOOLEY, ‘even if I see a run on an idea, like the panorama one, it +awakens no ill-humour within me, but gives me pleasant thoughts. Some of +the best results of actual travel are suggested by such means to those +whose lot it is to stay at home. New worlds open out to them, beyond +their little worlds, and widen their range of reflection, information, +sympathy, and interest. The more man knows of man, the better for the +common brotherhood among us all. I shall, therefore,’ said MR. BOOLEY, +‘now propose to the Social Oysters the healths of Mr. Banvard, Mr. +Brees, Mr. Phillips, Mr. Allen, Mr. Prout, Messrs. Bonomi, Fahey, and +Warren, Mr. Thomas Grieve, and Mr. Burford. Long life to them all, and +more power to their pencils!’ + +The Social Oysters having drunk this toast with acclamation, MR. BOOLEY +proceeded to entertain them with anecdotes of his travels. This he is in +the habit of doing after they have feasted together, according to the +manner of Sinbad the Sailor—except that he does not bestow upon the +Social Oysters the munificent reward of one hundred sequins per night, +for listening. + + + + + LOADED DICE. + + +Several years ago I made a tour through some of the Southern Counties of +England with a friend. We travelled in an open carriage, stopping for a +few hours a day, or a week, as it might be, wherever there was any thing +to be seen: and we generally got through one stage before breakfast, +because it gave our horses rest, and ourselves the chance of enjoying +the brown bread, new milk, and fresh eggs of those country roadside +inns, which are fast becoming subjects for archæological investigation. + +One evening my friend said, ‘To-morrow, we will breakfast at T——. I want +to inquire about a family named Lovell, who used to live there. I met +the husband and wife and two lovely children, one summer at Exmouth. We +became very intimate, and I thought them particularly interesting +people, but I have never seen them since.’ + +The next morning’s sun shone as brightly as heart could desire, and +after a delightful drive, we reached the outskirts of the town about +nine o’clock. + +‘Oh, what a pretty inn!’ said I, as we approached a small white house, +with a sign swinging in front of it, and a flower-garden on one side. + +‘Stop, John,’ cried my friend, ‘we shall get a much cleaner breakfast +here than in the town, I dare say; and if there is anything to be seen +there, we can walk to it;’ so we alighted, and were shown into a neat +little parlour, with white curtains, where an unexceptionable rural +breakfast was soon placed before us. + +‘Pray do you happen to know anything of a family called Lovell?’ +inquired my friend, whose name, by the way, was Markham. ‘Mr. Lovell was +a clergyman.’ + +‘Yes, Ma’am,’ answered the girl who attended us, apparently the +landlord’s daughter, ‘Mr. Lovell is the vicar of our parish.’ + +‘Indeed! and does he live near here?’ + +‘Yes, Ma’am, he lives at the vicarage. It’s just down that lane +opposite, about a quarter of a mile from here; or you can go across the +fields, if you please, to where you see that tower; it’s close by +there.’ + +‘And which is the pleasantest road?’ inquired Mrs. Markham. + +‘Well, Ma’am, I think by the fields is the pleasantest, if you don’t +mind a stile or two; and, besides, you get the best view of the Abbey by +going that way.’ + +‘Is that tower we see part of the Abbey?’ + +‘Yes, Ma’am,’ answered the girl, ‘and the vicarage is just the other +side of it.’ + +Armed with these instructions, as soon as we had finished our breakfast +we started across the fields, and after a pleasant walk of twenty +minutes we found ourselves in an old churchyard, amongst a cluster of +the most picturesque ruins we had ever seen. With the exception of the +grey tower, which we had espied from the inn, and which had doubtless +been the belfry, the remains were not considerable. There was the outer +wall of the chancel, and the broken step that had led to the high altar, +and there were sections of aisles, and part of a cloister, all +gracefully festooned with mosses and ivy; whilst mingled with the +grass-grown graves of the prosaic dead, there were the massive tombs of +the Dame Margerys and the Sir Hildebrands of more romantic periods. All +was ruin and decay; but such poetic ruin! such picturesque decay! And +just beyond the tall grey tower, there was the loveliest, smiling, +little garden, and the prettiest cottage, that imagination could +picture. The day was so bright, the grass so green, the flowers so gay, +the air so balmy with their sweet perfumes, the birds sang so cheerily +in the apple and cherry trees, that all nature seemed rejoicing. + +‘Well,’ said my friend, as she seated herself on the fragment of a +pillar, and looked around her, ‘now that I see this place, I understand +the sort of people the Lovells were.’ + +‘What sort of people were they?’ said I. + +‘Why, as I said before, interesting people. In the first place, they +were both extremely handsome.’ + +‘But the locality had nothing to do with their good looks, I presume,’ +said I. + +‘I am not sure of that,’ she answered; ‘when there is the least +foundation of taste or intellect to set out with, the beauty of external +nature, and the picturesque accidents that harmonise with it, do, I am +persuaded, by their gentle and elevating influences on the mind, make +the handsome handsomer, and the ugly less ugly. But it was not alone the +good looks of the Lovells that struck me, but their air of refinement +and high breeding, and I should say high birth—though I know nothing +about their extraction—combined with their undisguised poverty and as +evident contentment. Now, I can understand such people finding here an +appropriate home, and being satisfied with their small share of this +world’s goods; because here the dreams of romance writers about Love in +a Cottage might be somewhat realised; poverty might be graceful and +poetical here; and then, you know, they have no rent to pay.’ + +‘Very true,’ said I; ‘but suppose they had sixteen daughters, like a +half-pay officer I once met on board a steam-packet?’ + +‘That would spoil it certainly,’ said Mrs. Markham; ‘but let us hope +they have not. When I knew them they had only two children, a boy and a +girl, called Charles and Emily; two of the prettiest creatures I ever +beheld!’ + +As my friend thought it yet rather early for a visit, we had remained +chattering in this way for more than an hour, sometimes seated on a +tombstone, or a fallen column; sometimes peering amongst the carved +fragments that were scattered about the ground, and sometimes looking +over the hedge into the little garden, the wicket of which was +immediately behind the tower. The weather being warm, most of the +windows of the vicarage were open and the blinds were all down; we had +not yet seen a soul stirring, and were just wondering whether we might +venture to present ourselves at the door, when a strain of distant music +struck upon our ears. ‘Hark!’ I said, ‘how exquisite! It was the only +thing wanting to complete the charm.’ + +‘It’s a military band, I think,’ said Mrs. Markham, ‘you know we passed +some barracks before we reached the Inn.’ + +Nearer and nearer drew the sound, solemn and slow; the band was +evidently approaching by the green lane that skirted the fields we had +come by. ‘Hush,’ said I, laying my hand on my friend’s arm, with a +strange sinking of the heart; ‘they are playing the Dead March in Saul! +Don’t you hear the muffled drums? It’s a funeral, but where’s the +grave?’ + +‘There!’ said she, pointing to a spot close under the hedge where some +earth had been thrown up; but the aperture was covered with a plank, +probably to prevent accidents. + +There are few ceremonies in life at once so touching, so impressive, so +sad, and yet so beautiful, as a soldier’s funeral! Ordinary funerals +with their unwieldy hearses and feathers, and the absurd looking mutes, +and the ‘inky cloaks’ and weepers, of hired mourners, always seem to me +like a mockery of the dead; the appointments border so closely on the +grotesque; they are so little in keeping with the true, the only view of +death that can render life endurable! There is such a tone of +exaggerated——forced, heavy, over-acted gravity about the whole thing, +that one had need to have a deep personal interest involved in the +scene, to be able to shut one’s eyes to the burlesque side of it. But a +military funeral, how different! There you see death in life and life in +death! There is nothing over-strained, nothing overdone. At once simple +and solemn, decent and decorous, consoling, yet sad. The chief mourners, +at best, are generally true mourners, for they have lost a brother with +whom ‘they sat but yesterday at meat;’ and whilst they are comparing +memories, recalling how merry they had many a day been together, and the +solemn tones of that sublime music float upon the air, we can imagine +the freed and satisfied soul wafted on those harmonious breathings to +its Heavenly home; and our hearts are melted, our imaginations exalted, +our faith invigorated, and we come away the better for what we have +seen. + +I believe some such reflections as these were passing through our minds, +for we both remained silent and listening, till the swinging-to of the +little wicket, which communicated with the garden, aroused us; but +nobody appeared, and the tower being at the moment betwixt us and it, we +could not see who had entered. Almost at the same moment, a man came in +from a gate on the opposite side, and advancing to where the earth was +thrown up, lifted the plank and discovered the newly made grave. He was +soon followed by some boys, and several respectable-looking persons came +into the enclosure, whilst nearer and nearer drew the sound of the +muffled drums, and now we descried the firing party and their officer, +who led the procession with their arms reversed, each man wearing above +the elbow a piece of black crape and a small bow of white satin ribbon; +the band still playing that solemn strain. Then came the coffin, borne +by six soldiers. Six officers bore up the pall, all quite young men; and +on the coffin lay the shako, sword, side-belt, and white gloves of the +deceased. A long train of mourners marched two and two, in open file, +the privates first, the officers last. Sorrow was imprinted on every +face; there was no unseemly chattering, no wandering eyes; if a word was +exchanged, it was in a whisper, and the sad shake of the head showed of +whom they were discoursing. All this we observed as they marched through +the lane that skirted one side of the churchyard. As they neared the +gate the band ceased to play. + +‘See there,’ said Mrs. Markham, directing my attention to the cottage, +‘there comes Mr. Lovell. Oh, how he is changed!’ and whilst she spoke, +the clergyman entering by the wicket, advanced to meet the procession at +the gate, where he commenced reading the funeral service as he moved +backwards towards the grave, round which the firing party, leaning on +their firelocks, now formed. Then came those awful words, ‘Ashes to +ashes, dust to dust,’ the hollow sound of the earth upon the coffin, and +three volleys fired over the grave, finished the solemn ceremony. + +When the procession entered the churchyard, we had retired behind the +broken wall of the chancel, whence, without being observed, we had +watched the whole scene with intense interest. Just as the words ‘Ashes +to ashes! dust to dust!’ were pronounced, I happened to raise my eyes +towards the grey tower, and then, peering through one of the narrow +slits, I saw the face of a man—such a face! Never to my latest day can I +forget the expression of those features! If ever there was despair and +anguish written on a human countenance, it was there! And yet so young! +so beautiful! A cold chill ran through my veins as I pressed Mrs. +Markham’s arm. ‘Look up at the tower!’ I whispered. + +‘My God! What can it be?’ she answered, turning quite pale! ‘And Mr. +Lovell, did you observe how his voice shook? at first, I thought it was +illness; but he seems bowed down with grief. Every face looks awestruck! +There must be some tragedy here—something more than the death of an +individual!’ and fearing, under this impression, that our visit might +prove untimely, we resolved to return to the inn, and endeavour to +discover if anything unusual had really occurred. Before we moved, I +looked up at the narrow slit—the face was no longer there; but as we +passed round to the other side of the tower, we saw a tall, slender +figure, attired in a loose coat, pass slowly through the wicket, cross +the garden, and enter the house. We only caught a glimpse of the +profile; the head hung down upon the breast; the eyes were bent upon the +ground; but we knew it was the same face we had seen above. + +We went back to the inn, where our inquiries elicited some information, +which made us wish to know more: but it was not till we went into the +town that we obtained the following details of this mournful drama, of +which we had thus accidentally witnessed one impressive scene. + +Mr. Lovell, as Mrs. Markham had conjectured, was a man of good family, +but no fortune; he might have had a large one, could he have made up his +mind to marry Lady Elizabeth Wentworth, the bride selected for him by a +wealthy uncle who proposed to make him his heir; but preferring poverty +with Emily Dering, he was disinherited. He never repented his choice, +although he remained vicar of a small parish, and a poor man all his +life. The two children whom Mrs. Markham had seen, were the only ones +they had, and through the excellent management of Mrs. Lovell, and the +moderation of her husband’s desires, they had enjoyed an unusual degree +of happiness in this sort of graceful poverty, till the young Charles +and Emily were grown up, and it was time to think what was to be done +with them. The son had been prepared for Oxford by the father, and the +daughter, under the tuition of her mother, was remarkably well educated +and accomplished; but it became necessary to consider the future: +Charles must be sent to college, since the only chance of finding a +provision for him was in the Church, although the expense of maintaining +him there could be ill afforded; so, in order in some degree to balance +the outlay, it was, after much deliberation, agreed that Emily should +accept a situation as governess in London. The proposal was made by +herself, and the rather consented to, that, in case of the death of her +parents, she would almost inevitably have had to seek some such means of +subsistence. These partings were the first sorrows that had reached the +Lovells. + +At first, all went well; Charles was not wanting in ability nor in a +moderate degree of application; and Emily wrote cheerily of her new +life. She was kindly received, well treated, and associated with the +family on the footing of a friend. Neither did further experience seem +to diminish her satisfaction. She saw a great many gay people—some of +whom she named; and, amongst the rest, there not unfrequently appeared +the name of Herbert. Mr. Herbert was in the army, and being a distant +connexion of the family with whom she resided, was a frequent visitor at +their house. ‘She was sure papa and mamma would like him.’ Once the +mother smiled, and said she hoped Emily was not falling in love; but no +more was thought of it. In the meantime Charles had found out that there +was time for many things at Oxford, besides study. He was naturally fond +of society, and had a remarkable capacity for excelling in all kinds of +games. He was agreeable, lively, exceedingly handsome, and sang +charmingly, having been trained in part-singing by his mother. No young +man at Oxford was more _fêté_; but alas! he was very poor, and poverty +poisoned all his enjoyments. For some time he resisted temptation; but +after a terrible struggle—for he adored his family—he gave way, and ran +in debt, and although the imprudence only augmented his misery, he had +not resolution to retrace his steps, but advanced further and further on +this broad road to ruin, so that he had come home for the vacation +shortly before our visit to T——, threatened with all manner of +annoyances if he did not carry back a sufficient sum to satisfy his most +clamorous creditors. He had assured them he would do so, but where was +he to get the money? Certainly not from his parents; he well knew they +had it not; nor had he a friend in the world from whom he could hope +assistance in such an emergency. In his despair he often thought of +running away—going to Australia, America, New Zealand, anywhere; but he +had not even the means to do this. He suffered indescribable tortures, +and saw no hope of relief. + +It was just at this period that Herbert’s regiment happened to be +quartered at T——. Charles had occasionally seen his name in his sister’s +letters, and heard that there was a Herbert now in the barracks, but he +was ignorant whether or not it was the same person; and when he +accidentally fell into the society of some of the junior officers, and +was invited by Herbert himself to dine at the mess, pride prevented his +ascertaining the fact. He did not wish to betray that his sister was a +governess. Herbert, however, knew full well that their visitor was the +brother of Emily Lovell, but partly for reasons of his own, and partly +because he penetrated the weakness of the other, he abstained from +mentioning her name. + +Now, this town of T—— was, and probably is, about the dullest quarter in +all England! The officers hated it, there was no flirting, no dancing, +no hunting, no anything. Not a man of them knew what to do with himself. +The old ones wandered about and played at whist, the young ones took to +hazard and three-card-loo, playing at first for moderate stakes, but +soon getting on to high ones. Two or three civilians of the +neighbourhood joined the party, Charles Lovell amongst the rest. Had +they begun with playing high, he would have been excluded for want of +funds; but whilst they played low, he won, so that when they increased +the stakes, trusting to a continuance of his good fortune, he was eager +to go on with them. Neither did his luck altogether desert him; on the +whole, he rather won than lost; but he foresaw that one bad night would +break him, and he should be obliged to retire, forfeiting his amusement +and mortifying his pride. It was just at this crisis, that, one night, +an accident, which caused him to win a considerable sum, set him upon +the notion of turning chance into certainty. Whilst shuffling the cards, +he dropped the ace of spades into his lap, caught it up, replaced it in +the pack, and dealt it to himself. No one else had seen the card, no +observation was made, and a terrible thought came into his head! + +Whether loo or hazard was played, Charles Lovell had, night after night, +a most extraordinary run of luck. He won large sums, and saw before him +the early prospect of paying his debts and clearing all his +difficulties. + +Amongst the young men who played at the table, some had plenty of money +and cared little for their losses; but others were not so well off, and +one of these was Edward Herbert. He, too, was the son of poor parents +who had straitened themselves to put him in the army, and it was with +infinite difficulty and privation that his widowed mother had amassed +the needful sum to purchase for him a company, which was now becoming +vacant. The retiring officer’s papers were already sent in, and +Herbert’s money was lodged at Cox and Greenwood’s; but before the answer +from the Horse-Guards arrived, he had lost every sixpence. Nearly the +whole sum had become the property of Charles Lovell. + +Herbert was a fine young man, honourable, generous, impetuous, and +endowed with an acute sense of shame. He determined instantly to pay the +debts, but he knew that his own prospects were ruined for life; he wrote +to the agents to send him the money and withdraw his name from the list +of purchasers. But how was he to support his mother’s grief? How meet +the eye of the girl he loved? She, who he knew adored him, and whose +hand it was agreed between them he should ask of her parents as soon as +he was gazetted a captain! The anguish of mind he suffered then threw +him into a fever, and he lay for several days betwixt life and death, +and happily unconscious of his misery. + +Meantime, another scene was being enacted elsewhere. The officers, who +night after night found themselves losers, had not for some time +entertained the least idea of foul play, but at length, one of them +observing something suspicious, began to watch, and satisfied himself, +by a peculiar method adopted by Lovell in ‘throwing his mains,’ that he +was the culprit. His suspicions were whispered from one to another, till +they nearly all entertained them, with the exception of Herbert, who, +being looked upon as Lovell’s most especial friend, was not told. So +unwilling were these young men to blast, for ever, the character of the +visitor whom they had so much liked, and to strike a fatal blow at the +happiness and respectability of his family, that they were hesitating +how to proceed, whether to openly accuse him or privately reprove and +expel him, when Herbert’s heavy loss decided the question. + +Herbert himself, overwhelmed with despair, had quitted the room, the +rest were still seated around the table, when having given each other a +signal, one of them, called Frank Houston, arose and said: ‘Gentlemen, +it gives me great pain to have to call your attention to a very +strange—a very distressing circumstance. For some time past there has +been an extraordinary run of luck in one direction—we have all observed +it—all remarked on it. Mr. Herbert has at this moment retired a heavy +loser. There is, indeed, as far as I know, but one winner amongst us—but +one, and he a winner to a very considerable amount; the rest all losers. +God forbid, that I should rashly accuse any man! Lightly blast any man’s +character! But I am bound to say, that I fear the money we have lost has +not been fairly won. There has been foul play! I forbear to name the +party—the facts sufficiently indicate him.’ + +Who would not have pitied Lovell, when, livid with horror and conscious +guilt, he vainly tried to say something? ‘Indeed—I assure you—I +never’—but words would not come; he faltered and rushed out of the room +in a transport of agony. They did pity him; and when he was gone, agreed +amongst themselves to hush up the affair: but unfortunately, the +civilians of the party, who had not been let into the secret, took up +his defence. They not only believed the accusation unfounded, but felt +it as an affront offered to their townsman; they blustered about it a +good deal, and there was nothing left for it but to appoint a committee +of investigation. Alas! the evidence was overwhelming! It turned out +that the dice and cards had been supplied by Lovell. The former, still +on the table, were found on examination to be loaded. In fact, he had +had a pair as a curiosity long in his possession, and had obtained +others from a disreputable character at Oxford. No doubt remained of his +guilt. + +All this while Herbert had been too ill to be addressed on the subject; +but symptoms of recovery were now beginning to appear; and as nobody was +aware that he had any particular interest in the Lovell family, the +affair was communicated to him. At first he refused to believe in his +friend’s guilt, and became violently irritated. His informants assured +him they would be too happy to find they were mistaken, but that since +the inquiry no hope of such an issue remained, and he sank into a gloomy +silence. + +On the following morning, when his servant came to his room door, he +found it locked. When, at the desire of the surgeon, it was broken open, +Herbert was found a corpse, and a discharged pistol lying beside him. An +inquest sat upon the body, and the verdict brought in was _Temporary +Insanity_. There never was one more just. + +Preparations were now made for the funeral—that funeral which we had +witnessed; but before the day appointed for it arrived, another chapter +of this sad story was unfolded. + +When Charles left the barracks on that fatal night, instead of going +home, he passed the dark hours in wandering wildly about the country; +but when morning dawned, fearing the eye of man, he returned to the +vicarage, and slunk unobserved to his chamber. When he did not appear at +breakfast, his mother sought him in his room, where she found him in +bed. He said he was very ill—and so indeed he was—and begged to be left +alone; but as he was no better on the following day, she insisted on +sending for medical advice. The doctor found him with all those physical +symptoms that are apt to supervene from great anxiety of mind; and +saying he could get no sleep, Charles requested to have some laudanum; +but the physician was on his guard, for although the parties concerned +wished to keep the thing private, some rumours had got abroad that +awakened his caution. + +The parents, meanwhile, had not the slightest anticipation of the +thunderbolt that was about to fall upon them. They lived a very retired +life, were acquainted with none of the officers—and they were even +ignorant of the amount of their son’s intimacy with the regiment. Thus, +when news of Herbert’s lamentable death reached them, the mother said to +her son: ‘Charles, did you know a young man in the barracks called +Herbert; a lieutenant, I believe? By the bye, I hope it’s not Emily’s +Mr. Herbert.’ + +‘Did I know him?’ said Charles, turning suddenly towards her, for, under +pretence that the light annoyed him, he always lay with his face to the +wall. ‘Why do you ask, mother?’ + +‘Because he’s dead. He had a fever, and—’ + +‘Herbert dead!’ cried Charles, suddenly sitting up in the bed. + +‘Yes, he had a fever, and it is supposed he was delirious, for he blew +out his brains; there is a report that he had been playing high, and +lost a great deal of money. What’s the matter, dear? Oh, Charles, I +shouldn’t have told you! I was not aware that you knew him!’ + +‘Fetch my father here, and, Mother, you come back with him!’ said +Charles, speaking with a strange sternness of tone, and wildly motioning +her out of the room. + +When the parents came, he bade them sit down beside him; and then, with +a degree of remorse and anguish that no words could portray, he told +them all; whilst they, with blanched cheeks and fainting hearts, +listened to the dire confession. + +‘And here I am,’ he exclaimed, as he ended, ‘a cowardly scoundrel that +has not dared to die! Oh, Herbert! happy, happy, Herbert! Would I were +with you!’ + +At that moment the door opened, and a beautiful, bright, smiling, joyous +face peeped in. It was Emily Lovell, the beloved daughter, the adored +sister, arrived from London in compliance with a letter received a few +days previously from Herbert, wherein he had told her that by the time +she received it, he would be a captain. She had come to introduce him to +her parents as her affianced husband. She feared no refusal; well she +knew how rejoiced they would be to see her the wife of so kind and +honourable a man. But they were ignorant of all this, and in the fulness +of their agony, the cup of woe ran over and she drank of the draught! +They told her all before she had been five minutes in the room. How else +could they account for their tears, their confusion, their bewilderment, +their despair! + +Before Herbert’s funeral took place, Emily Lovell was lying betwixt life +and death in a brain fever. Under the influence of a feeling easily to +be comprehended, thirsting for a self-imposed torture, that by its very +poignancy should relieve the dead weight of wretchedness that lay upon +his breast, Charles crept from his bed, and slipping on a loose coat +that hung in his room, he stole across the garden to the tower, whence, +through the arrow-slit, he witnessed the burial of his sister’s lover, +whom he had hastened to the grave. + +Here terminates our sad story. We left T—— on the following morning, and +it was two or three years before any further intelligence of the Lovell +family reached us. All we then heard was, that Charles had gone, a +self-condemned exile, to Australia; and that Emily had insisted on +accompanying him thither. + + + + + DREAM WITHIN DREAM; OR, EVIL MINIMISED. + + + What evil would be, could it be, the Blest + Are sometimes fain to know. They sink to rest, + Dream, for one moment’s space, of care and strife, + Wake, stare, and smile; and this is Human Life. + + + + + THE SCHOOLMASTER AT HOME AND ABROAD. + + +The lamentable deficiency of the commonest rudiments of education, which +still exists among the humbler classes of this nation, is never so +darkly apparent as when we compare their condition with that of people +of similar rank in other countries. When we do so, we find that England +stands the lowest in the scale of what truly must be looked upon as +_Civilisation_; for she provides fewer means for promoting it than any +of her neighbours. With us, education is a commodity to be trafficked +in: abroad, it is a duty. Here, schoolmasters are perfectly +irresponsible except to their paymasters: in other countries, teachers +are appointed by the state, and a rigid supervision is maintained over +the trainers of youth, both as regards competency and moral conduct. In +England, whoever is too poor to buy the article education, can get none +of it for himself or his offspring: in other parts of Europe, either the +government (as in Germany), or public opinion (as in America), enforces +it upon the youthful population. + +What are the consequences? One is revealed by a comparison between the +proportion of scholars in elementary schools to the entire population of +other countries, and that in our own. Taking the whole of northern +Europe—including Scotland—and France and Belgium (where education is at +a low ebb), we find that to every 2¼ of the population, there is one +child acquiring the rudiments of knowledge; while in England there is +only one such pupil to every _fourteen_ inhabitants. + +It has been calculated that there are, at the present day in England and +Wales, nearly 8,000,000 persons who can neither read nor write—that is +to say, nearly one quarter of the population. Also, that of all the +children between five and fourteen, more than one half attend no place +of instruction. These statements—compiled by Mr. Kay, from official and +other authentic sources, for his work on the Social Condition and +Education of the Poor in England and Europe, would be hard to believe, +if we had not to encounter in our every-day life degrees of illiteracy +which would be startling, if we were not thoroughly used to it. Wherever +we turn, ignorance, not always allied to poverty, stares us in the face. +If we look in the Gazette, at the list of partnerships dissolved, not a +month passes but some unhappy man, rolling perhaps in wealth, but +wallowing in ignorance, is put to the _experimentum crucis_ of ‘his +mark.’ The number of petty jurors—in rural districts especially—who can +only sign with a cross is enormous. It is not unusual to see parish +documents of great local importance defaced with the same humiliating +symbol by persons whose office shows them to be not only ‘men of mark,’ +but men of substance. We have printed already specimens of the partial +ignorance which passes under the ken of the Post Office authorities, and +we may venture to assert, that such specimens of penmanship and +orthography are not to be matched in any other country in Europe. A +housewife in humble life need only turn to the file of her tradesmen’s +bills to discover hieroglyphics which render them so many arithmetical +puzzles. In short, the practical evidences of the low ebb to which the +plainest rudiments of education in this country has fallen, are too +common to bear repetition. We cannot pass through the streets, we cannot +enter a place of public assembly, or ramble in the fields, without the +gloomy shadow of Ignorance sweeping over us. The rural population is +indeed in a worse plight than the other classes. We quote—with the +attestation of our own experience—the following passage from one of a +series of articles which have recently appeared in a morning +newspaper:—‘Taking the adult class of agricultural labourers, it is +almost impossible to exaggerate the ignorance in which they live and +move and have their being. As they work in the fields, the external +world has some hold upon them through the medium of their senses; but to +all the higher exercises of intellect, they are perfect strangers. You +cannot address one of them without being at once painfully struck with +the intellectual darkness which enshrouds him. There is in general +neither speculation in his eyes, nor intelligence in his countenance. +The whole expression is more that of an animal than of a man. He is +wanting, too, in the erect and independent bearing of a man. When you +accost him, if he is not insolent—which he seldom is—he is timid and +shrinking, his whole manner showing that he feels himself at a distance +from you, greater than should separate any two classes of men. He is +often doubtful when you address, and suspicious when you question him; +he is seemingly oppressed with the interview, while it lasts, and +obviously relieved when it is over. These are the traits which I can +affirm them to possess as a class, after having come in contact with +many hundreds of farm labourers. They belong to a generation for whose +intellectual culture little or nothing was done. As a class, they have +no amusements beyond the indulgence of sense. In nine cases out of ten, +recreation is associated in their minds with nothing higher than +sensuality. I have frequently asked clergymen and others, if they often +find the adult peasant reading for his own or others’ amusement? The +invariable answer is, that such a sight is seldom or never witnessed. In +the first place, _the great bulk of them cannot read_. In the next, a +large proportion of those who can, do so with too much difficulty to +admit of the exercise being an amusement to them. Again, few of those +who can read with comparative ease, have the taste for doing so. It is +but justice to them to say, that many of those who cannot read, have +bitterly regretted, in my hearing, their inability to do so. I shall +never forget the tone in which an old woman in Cornwall intimated to me +what a comfort it would now be to her, could she only read her Bible in +her lonely hours.’ + +We now turn to the high lights of the picture as presented abroad, and +which, from their very brightness, throw our own intellectual gloom into +deeper shade. Mr. Kay observes in the work we have already cited— + +‘It is a great fact, however much we may be inclined to doubt it, that +throughout Prussia, Saxony, Bavaria, Bohemia, Wirtemberg, Baden, Hesse +Darmstadt, Hesse Cassel, Gotha, Nassau, Hanover, Denmark, Switzerland, +Norway, and the Austrian Empire, all the children are actually at this +present time attending school, and are receiving a careful, religious, +moral, and intellectual education, from highly educated and efficient +teachers. Over the vast tract of country which I have mentioned, as well +as in Holland, and the greater part of France, _all_ the children above +six years of age are daily acquiring useful knowledge and good habits +under the _influence_ of moral, religious, and learned teachers. ALL the +youth of the greater part of these countries, below the age of +twenty-one years, can read, write, and cypher, and know the Bible +History, and the history of their own country. No children are left idle +and dirty in the streets of the towns—there is no class of children to +be compared in any respect to the children who frequent our “ragged +schools”——all the children, even of the poorest parents, are, in a great +part of these countries, in dress, appearance, cleanliness, and manners, +as polished and civilised as the children of our middle classes; the +children of the poor in Germany are so civilised that the rich often +send their children to the schools intended for the poor; and, lastly, +in a great part of Germany and Switzerland, the children of the poor are +receiving a _better_ education than that given in England to the +children of the greater part of our middle classes.’ + +‘I remember one day,’ says Mr. Kay in another page, ‘when walking near +Berlin in the company of Herr Hintz, a professor in Dr. Diesterweg’s +Normal College, and of another teacher, we saw a poor woman cutting up, +in the road, logs of wood for winter use. My companions pointed her out +to me and said, “Perhaps you will scarcely believe it, but in the +neighbourhood of Berlin, poor women, like that one, read translations of +Sir Walter Scott’s Novels, and many of the interesting works of your +language, besides those of the principal writers of Germany.” This +account was afterwards confirmed by the testimony of several other +persons. Often and often have I seen the poor cab-drivers of Berlin, +while waiting for a fare, amusing themselves by reading German books, +which they had brought with them in the morning, expressly for the +purpose of supplying amusement and occupation for their leisure hours. +In many parts of these countries, the peasants and the workmen of the +towns attend regular weekly lectures or weekly classes, where they +practise singing or chanting, or learn mechanical drawing, history, or +science. The intelligence of the poorer classes of these countries is +shown by their manners. The whole appearance of a German peasant who has +been brought up under this system, _i. e._ of any of the poor who have +not attained the age of thirty-five years, is very different to that of +our own peasantry. The German, Swiss, or Dutch peasant, who has grown up +to manhood under the new system, and since the old feudal system was +overthrown, is not nearly so often, as with us, distinguished by an +uncouth dialect. On the contrary, they speak as their teachers speak, +clearly, without hesitation, and grammatically. They answer questions +politely, readily, and with the ease which shows they have been +accustomed to mingle with men of greater wealth and of better education +than themselves. They do not appear embarrassed, still less do they +appear gawkish or stupid, when addressed. If, in asking a peasant a +question, a stranger, according to the polite custom of the country, +raises his hat, the first words of reply are the quietly uttered ones, +“I pray you, Sir, be covered.” A Prussian peasant is always polite and +respectful to a stranger, but quite as much at his ease as when speaking +to one of his own fellows.’ + +Surely the contrast presented between the efforts of the schoolmaster +abroad and his inactivity at home—refuting, as it does, our hourly +boastings of ‘intellectual progress,’—should arouse us, energetically +and practically, to the work of Educational extension. + + + + + THE LADY ALICE. + + + I. + What doth the Lady Alice so late on the turret-stair, + Without a lamp to light her but the diamond in her hair; + When every arching passage overflows with shallow gloom, + And dreams float through the castle, into every silent room? + + She trembles at her footsteps, although their fall is light; + For through the turret-loopholes she sees the murky night,— + Black, broken vapours streaming across the stormy skies,— + Along the empty corridors the moaning tempest cries. + + She steals along a gallery, she pauses by a door; + And fast her tears are dropping down upon the oaken floor; + And thrice she seems returning,—but thrice she turns again;— + Now heavy lie the cloud of sleep on that old father’s brain! + + + Oh, well it were that _never_ thou should’st waken from thy sleep! + For wherefore should they waken who waken but to weep? + No more, no more beside thy bed may Peace her vigil keep; + Thy sorrow, like a lion, waits[1] upon its prey to leap. + + II. + An afternoon in April. No sun appears on high; + A moist and yellow lustre fills the deepness of the sky; + And through the castle gateway, with slow and solemn tread, + Along the leafless avenue they bear the honoured dead. + + They stop. The long line closes up, like some gigantic worm; + A shape is standing in the path; a wan and ghostlike form; + Which gazes fixedly, nor moves; nor utters any sound; + Then, like a statue built of snow, falls lifeless to the ground. + + And though her clothes are ragged, and though her feet are bare; + And though all wild and tangled, falls her heavy silk-brown hair; + Though from her eyes the brightness, from her cheeks the bloom, has + fled; + They know their Lady Alice, the Darling of the Dead. + + With silence, in her own old room the fainting form they lay; + Where all things stand unaltered since the night she fled away; + But who shall bring to life again her father from the clay? + But who shall give her back again her heart of that old day? + +Footnote 1: + + The lion was said to ‘prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.’ + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS OF CHEAPNESS. + A GLOBE. + +One of the most remarkable of self-educated men, James Ferguson, when a +poor agricultural labourer, constructed a globe. A friend had made him a +present of ‘Gordon’s Geographical Grammar,’ which, he says, ‘at that +time was to me a great treasure. There is no figure of a globe in it, +although it contains a tolerable description of the globes, and their +use. From this description I made a globe in three weeks, at my +father’s, having turned the ball thereof out of a piece of wood; which +ball I covered with paper, and delineated a map of the world upon it, +made the meridian ring and horizon of wood, covered them with paper, and +graduated them; and was happy to find that by my globe (which was the +first I ever saw) I could solve the problems.’ + +‘But,’ he adds, ‘this was not likely to afford me bread.’ + +In a few years this ingenious man discovered the conditions upon which +he could earn his bread, by a skill which did not suffer under the +competition of united labour. He had made also a wooden clock. He +carried about his globe and his clock, and ‘began to pick up some money +about the country’ by cleaning clocks. He became a skilled +clock-cleaner. For six-and-twenty years afterwards he earned his bread +as an artist. He then became a scientific lecturer, and in connection +with his pursuits, was also a globe maker. His name may be seen upon old +globes, associated with that of Senex. The demand for globes must have +been then very small, but Ferguson had learned that cheapness is +produced by labour-saving contrivances. A pretty instrument for +graduating lines upon the meridian ring, once belonging to Ferguson, is +in use at this hour in the manufactory of Messrs. Malby and Son. The +poor lad ‘who made a globe in three weeks’ finally won the honours and +riches that were due to his genius and industry. But he would never have +earned a living in the continuance of his first attempt to turn a ball +out of a piece of wood, cover it with paper, and draw a map of the world +upon it. The nicest application of his individual skill, and the most +careful employment of his scientific knowledge, would have been wasted +upon those portions of the work in which the continued application of +common routine labour is the most efficient instrument of production. + +Let us contrast the successive steps of Ferguson’s first experiment in +globe-making with the processes of a globe manufactory. + +A globe is not made of ‘a ball turned out of a piece of wood.’ If a +solid ball of large dimensions were so turned, it would be too heavy for +ordinary use. Erasmus said of one of the books of Thomas Aquinas, ‘No +man can carry it about, much less get it into his head;’ and so would it +be said of a solid globe. If it were made of hollow wood, it would warp +and split at the junction of its parts. A globe is made of paper and +plaster. It is a beautiful combination of solidity and lightness. It is +perfectly balanced upon its axis. It retains its form under every +variety of temperature. Time affects it less than most other works of +art. It is as durable as a Scagliola column. + +A globe may not, at first sight, appear a cheap production. It is not, +of necessity, a low-priced production, and yet it is essentially cheap; +for nearly all the principles of manufacture that are conditions of +cheapness are exhibited in the various stages of its construction. There +are only four globe-makers in England and one in Scotland. The annual +sale of globes is only about a thousand pair. The price of a pair of +globes varies from six shillings to fifty pounds. But from the smallest +2-inch, to the largest 36-inch globe, a systematic process is carried on +at every step of its formation. We select this Illustration of Cheapness +as a contrast, in relation to price and extent of demand, to the Lucifer +Match. But it is, at the same time, a parallel in principle. If a globe +were not made upon a principle involving the scientific combination of +skilled labour, it would be a mere article of luxury from its excessive +costliness. It is now a most useful instrument in education. For +educational purposes the most inexpensive globe is as valuable as that +of the highest price. All that properly belongs to the excellence of the +instrument is found in combination with the commonest stained wood +frame, as perfectly as with the most highly-finished frame of rose-wood +or mahogany. + +The mould, if we may so express it, of a globe is turned out of a piece +of wood. This sphere need not be mathematically accurate. It is for +rough work, and flaws and cracks are of little consequence. This wooden +ball has an axis, a piece of iron wire at each pole. And here we may +remark, that, at every stage of the process, the revolution of a sphere +upon its axis, under the hands of the workman, is the one great +principle which renders every operation one of comparative ease and +simplicity. The labour would be enormously multiplied if the same class +of operations had to be performed upon a cube. The solid mould, then, of +the embryo globe is placed on its axis in a wooden frame. In a very +short time a boy will form a pasteboard globe upon its surface. He first +covers it entirely with strips of strong paper, thoroughly wet, which +are in a tub of water at his side. The slight inequalities produced by +the over-lapping of the strips are immaterial. The saturated paper is +not suffered to dry; but is immediately covered over with a layer of +pasted paper, also cut in long narrow slips. A third layer of similarly +pasted paper—brown paper and white being used alternately—is applied; +and then, a fourth, a fifth and a sixth. Here the pasting process ends +for globes of moderate size. For the large ones it is carried farther. +This wet pasteboard ball has now to be dried,—placed upon its axis in a +rack. If we were determined to follow the progress of this individual +ball through all its stages, we should have to wait a fortnight before +it advanced another step. But as the large factory of Messrs. Malby and +Son has many scores of globes all rolling onward to perfection, we shall +be quite satisfied to witness the next operation performed upon a +pasteboard sphere that began to exist some weeks earlier, and is now +hard to the core. + +The wooden ball, with its solid paper covering, is placed on its axis. A +sharp cutting instrument, fixed on a bench, is brought into contact with +the surface of the sphere, which is made to revolve. In less time than +we write, the pasteboard ball is cut in half. There is no adhesion to +the wooden mould, for the first coating of paper was simply _wetted_. +Two bowls of thick card now lie before us, with a small hole in each, +made by the axis of the wooden ball. But a junction is very soon +effected. Within every globe there is a piece of wood—we may liken it to +a round ruler—of the exact length of the inner surface of the sphere +from pole to pole. A thick wire runs through this wood, and originally +projected some two or three inches at each end. This stick is placed +upright in a vice. The semi-globe is nailed to one end of the stick, +upon which it rests, when the wire is passed through its centre. It is +now reversed, and the edges of the card rapidly covered with glue. The +edges of the other semi-globe are instantly brought into contact, the +other end of the wire passing through its centre in the same way, and a +similar nailing to the stick taking place. We have now a paper globe, +with its own axis, which will be its companion for the whole term of its +existence. + +The paper globe is next placed on its axis in a frame, of which one side +is a semi-circular piece of metal;—the horizon of a globe cut in half +would show its form. A tub of white composition,—a compound of whiting, +glue, and oil is on the bench. The workman dips his hand into this +‘gruel thick and slab,’ and rapidly applies it to the paper sphere with +tolerable evenness: but as it revolves, the semi-circle of metal clears +off the superfluous portions. The ball of paper is now a ball of plaster +externally. Time again enters largely into the manufacture. The first +coating must thoroughly dry before the next is applied; and so again +till the process has been repeated four or five times. Thus, when we +visit a globe workshop, we are at first surprised at the number of white +balls, from three inches diameter to three feet, which occupy a large +space. They are all steadily advancing towards completion. They cannot +be hurriedly dried. The duration of their quiescent state must depend +upon the degrees of the thermometer in the ordinary atmosphere. They +cost little. They consume nothing beyond a small amount of rent. As they +advance to the dignity of perfect spheres, increased pains are taken in +the application of the plaster. At last they are polished. Their surface +is as hard and as fine as ivory. But, beautiful as they are, they may, +like many other beautiful things, want a due equipoise. They must be +perfectly balanced. They must move upon their poles with the utmost +exactness. A few shot, let in here and there, correct all +irregularities. And now the paper and plaster sphere is to be endued +with intelligence. + +What may be called the artistical portion of globe-making here +commences. In the manufactory we are describing there are two skilled +workers, who may take rank as artists, but whose skill is limited, and +at the same time perfected, by the uniformity of their operations. One +of these artists, a young woman, who has been familiar with the business +from her earliest years, takes the polished globe in her lap, for the +purpose of marking it with lines of direction for covering it with +engraved strips, which will ultimately form a perfect map. The +inspection of a finished globe will show that the larger divisions of +longitude are expressed by lines drawn from pole to pole, and those of +latitude by a series of concentric rings. The polished plaster has to be +covered with similar lines. These lines are struck with great rapidity, +and with mathematical truth, by an instrument called a ‘beam compass,’ +in the use of which this workwoman is most expert. The sphere is now +ready for receiving the map, which is engraved in fourteen distinct +pieces. The arctic and antarctic poles form two circular pieces, from +which the lines of longitude radiate. These having been fitted and +pasted, one of the remaining twelve pieces, containing 30 degrees, is +also pasted on the sphere, in the precise space where the lines of +longitude have been previously marked, its lines of latitude +corresponding in a similar manner. The paper upon which these portions +of the earth’s surface are engraved is thin and extremely tough. It is +rubbed down with the greatest care, through all the stages of this +pasting process. We have at length a globe covered with a plain map, so +perfectly joined that every line and every letter fit together as if +they had been engraved in one piece,—which, of course, would be +absolutely impossible for the purpose of covering a ball. + +The artist who thus covers the globe, called a paster, is also a +colourer. This is, of necessity, a work which cannot be carried on with +any division of labour. It is not so with the colouring of an atlas. A +map passes under many hands in the colouring. A series of children, each +using one colour, produce in combination a map coloured in all its +parts, with the rapidity and precision of a machine. But a globe must be +coloured by one hand. It is curious to observe the colourer working +without a pattern. By long experience the artist knows how the various +boundaries are to be defined, with pink continents, and blue islands, +and the green oceans, connecting the most distant regions. To a +contemplative mind, how many thoughts must go along with the mark, as he +covers Europe with indications of popular cities, and has little to do +with Africa and Australia but to mark the coast lines;—as year after +year he has to make some variation in the features of the great American +continent, which indicates the march of the human family over once +trackless deserts, whilst the memorable places of the ancient world +undergo few changes but those of name. And then, as he is finishing a +globe for the cabin of some ‘great ammirall,’ may he not think that, in +some frozen nook of the Arctic Sea, the friendly Esquimaux may come to +gaze upon his work, and seeing how pretty a spot England is upon the +ball, wonder what illimitable riches nature spontaneously produces in +that favoured region, some of which is periodically scattered by her +ships through those dreary climes in the search for some unknown road +amidst everlasting icebergs, while he would gladly find a short track to +the sunny south. And then, perhaps, higher thoughts may come into his +mind; and as this toy of a world grows under his fingers, and as he +twists it around upon its material axis, he may think of the great +artificer of the universe, having the feeling, if not knowing, the words +of the poet:— + + ‘In ambient air this ponderous ball HE hung.’ + +Contemplative, or not, the colourer steadily pursues his uniform labour, +and the sphere is at length fully coloured. + +The globe has now to be varnished with a preparation technically known +as ‘white hard,’ to which some softening matter is added to prevent the +varnish cracking. This is a secret which globe-makers preserve. Four +coats of varnish complete the work. + +And next the ball has to be mounted. We have already mentioned an +instrument by which the brass meridian ring is accurately graduated; +that is, marked with lines representing 360 degrees, with corresponding +numerals. Of whatever size the ring is, an index-hand, connected with +the graduating instrument, shows the exact spot where the degree is to +be marked with a graver. The operation is comparatively rapid; but for +the largest globes it involves considerable expense. After great +trouble, the ingenious men whose manufactory we are describing have +succeeded in producing cast-iron rings, with the degrees and figures +perfectly distinct; and these applied to 36-inch globes, instead of the +engraved meridians, make a difference of ten guineas in their price. For +furniture they are not so beautiful; for use they are quite as valuable. +There is only one other process which requires great nicety. The axis of +the globe revolves on the meridian ring, and of course it is absolutely +necessary that the poles should be exactly parallel. This is effected by +a little machine which drills each extremity at one and the same +instant; and the operation is termed poling the meridian. + +The mounting of the globe,—the completion of a pair of globes,—is now +handed over to the cabinet-maker. The cost of the material and the +elaboration of the workmanship determine the price. + +Before we conclude, we would say a few words as to the limited nature of +the demand for globes. + +Our imperfect description of this manufacture will have shown that +experience, and constant application of ingenuity, have succeeded in +reducing to the lowest amount the labour employed in the production of +globes. The whole population of English globe-makers does not exceed +thirty or forty men, women, and boys. Globes are thus produced at the +lowest rate of cheapness, as regards the number of labourers, and with +very moderate profits to the manufacturer, on account of the smallness +of his returns. The _durability_ of globes is one great cause of the +limitation of the demand. Changes of fashion, or caprices of taste, as +to the mounting—new geographical discoveries, and modern information as +to the position and nomenclature of the stars—may displace a few old +globes annually, which then find their way from brokers’ shops into a +class somewhat below that of their original purchasers. But the pair of +globes generally maintain for years their original position in the +school-room or the library. They are rarely injured, and suffer very +slight decay. The new purchasers represent that portion of society which +is seeking after knowledge, or desires to manifest some pretension to +intellectual tastes. The number of globes annually sold represents to a +certain extent the advance of Education. But if the labour-saving +expedients did not exist in the manufacture the cost would be much +higher, and the purchasers greatly reduced in number. The contrivances +by which comparative cheapness is produced arise out of the necessity of +contending against the durability of the article by encouraging a new +demand. If these did not exist, the supply would outrun the demand;—the +price of the article would less and less repay the labour expended in +its production; the manufacture of globes would cease till the old +globes were worn out, and the few rich and scientific purchasers had +again raised up a market. + + + + + THE GHOST OF THE LATE MR. JAMES BARBER. + A YARN ASHORE. + + +‘“Luck!” nonsense. There is no such thing. Life is not a game of chance +any more than chess is. If you lose, you have no one but yourself to +blame.’ + +This was said by a young lieutenant in the Royal Navy, to a middle-aged +midshipman, his elder brother. + +‘Do you mean to say that luck had nothing to do with Fine Gentleman +Bobbin passing for lieutenant, and my being turned back?’ was the +rejoinder. + +‘Bobbin, though a dandy, is a good seaman, and—and——.’ The speaker +looked another way, and hesitated. + +‘I am _not_, you would add—if you had courage. But I say I am, and a +better seaman than Bobbin.’ + +‘Practically, perhaps, for you are ten years older in the service. But +it was in the theoretical part of seamanship—which is equally +important—that you broke down before the examiners,’ continued the +younger officer, in tones of earnest but sorrowful reproach. ‘You never +_would_ study.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what it is, master Ferdinand,’ said the elderly middy, +not without a show of displeasure. ‘I don’t think this is the correct +sort of conversation to be going on between two brothers after a five +years’ separation.’ + +The young lieutenant laid his hand soothingly on his brother’s arm, and +entreated him to take what he said in good part. + +‘Well, well!’ rejoined the middy, with a laugh half-forced. ‘Take care +what you are about, or, by Jove, I’ll inform against you.’ + +‘What for?’ + +‘Why, for preaching without a license.—Besides, you were once as bad as +you pretend I am.’ + +‘I own it with sorrow; but I was warned in time by the wretched end of +poor James Barber——’ + +‘Of whom?’ asked the elder brother, starting back as he pushed his glass +along the table. ‘You don’t mean Jovial Jemmy, as we used to call him; +once my messmate in the brig “Rollock.”’ + +‘Yes, I do.’ + +‘What! dead?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘Why, it was one of our great delights, when in harbour and on shore, to +“go the rounds,”—as he called it—with Jovial Jemmy. He understood life +from stem to stern—from truck to keel. He knew everybody, from the First +Lord downwards. I have seen him recognised by _the_ Duke one minute, and +the next pick up with a strolling player, and familiarly treat him at a +tavern. He once took me to a quadrille party at the Duchess of +Durrington’s, where he seemed to know and be known to everybody present, +and then adjourned to the Cider Cellars, where he was equally intimate +with all sorts of queer characters. Though a favourite among the +aristocracy, he was equally welcome in less exclusive societies. He was +“Brother,” “Past Master,” “Warden,” “Noble Grand,” or “President” of all +sorts of Lodges and Fraternities. Uncommonly knowing was Jemmy in all +sorts of club and fashionable gossip. He knew who gave the best dinners, +and was always invited to the best balls. He was a capital judge of +champagne, and when he betted upon a horse-race everybody backed him. He +could hum all the fashionable songs, and was the fourth man who could +dance the polka when it was first imported. Then he was as profound in +bottled stout, Welsh rabbits, Burton ale, devilled kidneys, and bowls of +Bishop, as he was in Roman punch, French cookery, and Italian singers. +Afloat, he was the soul of fun:—he got up all our private theatricals, +told all the best stories, and sung comic songs that made even the +Purser laugh.’ + +‘An extent and variety of knowledge and accomplishments,’ said +Lieutenant Fid, ‘which had the precise effect of blasting his prospects +in life. He was, as you remember, at last dismissed the service for +intemperance and incompetence.’ + +‘When did you see him last?’ + +‘What, _alive_?’ inquired Ferdinand Fid, changing countenance. + +‘Of course! Surely you do not mean to insinuate that you have seen his +ghost!’ + +The lieutenant was silent; and the midshipman took a deep draught of his +favourite mixture—equal portions of rum and water—and hinted to his +younger brother, the lieutenant, the expediency of immediately confiding +the story to the Marines; for he declined to credit it. He then ventured +another recommendation, which was, that Ferdinand should throw the +impotent temperance tipple he was then imbibing ‘over the side of the +Ship’—which meant the tavern of that name in Greenwich, at the open +bow-window of which they were then sitting—and clear his intellects by +something stronger. + +‘I can afford to be laughed at,’ said the younger Fid, ‘because I have +gained immeasurably by the delusion, if it be one; but if ever there was +a ghost, I have seen the ghost of James Barber. I, like yourself and he, +was nearly ruined by love of amusement and intemperance, when he—or +whatever else it might have been—came to my aid.’ + +‘Let us hear. I see I am “in” for a ghost story.’ + +‘Well; it was eighteen forty-one when I came home in the “Arrow” with +despatches from the coast of Africa: you were lying in the Tagus in the +“Bobstay.” Ours, you know, was rather a thirsty station; a man inclined +for it comes home from the Slaving Coasts with a determination to make +up his lee way. I did mine with a vengeance. As usual, I looked up +“Jovial Jemmy.”’ + +‘’Twas easy to find him if you knew where to go.’ + +‘I _did_ know, and went. He had by that time got tired of his more +aristocratic friends. Respectability was too “slow” for him, so I found +him presiding over the “Philanthropic Raspers,” at the “Union Jack.” He +received me with open arms, and took me, as you say, the “rounds.” I +can’t recal that week’s dissipation without a shudder. We rushed about +from ball to tavern, from theatre to supper-room, from club to +gin-palace, as if our lives depended on losing not a moment. We had not +time to walk, so we galloped about in cabs. On the fourth night, when I +was beginning to feel knocked up, and tired of the same songs, the same +quadrilles, the bad whiskey, the suffocating tobacco smoke, and the +morning’s certain and desperate penalties, I remarked to Jemmy, that it +was a miracle how he had managed to weather it for so many years. “What +a hardship you would deem it,” I added, “if you were _obliged_ to go the +same weary round from one year’s end to another.”’ + +‘What did he say to that?’ asked Philip. + +‘Why, I never saw him so taken aback. He looked quite fiercely at me, +and replied, “I _am_ obliged!”’ + +‘How did he make that out?’ + +‘Why, he had tippled and dissipated his constitution into such a state +that use had become second nature. Excitement was his natural condition, +and he dared not become quite sober for fear of a total collapse—or +dropping down like a shot in the water.’ + +The midshipman had his glass in his hand, but forebore to taste +it.—‘Well, what then?’ + +‘The “rounds” lasted two nights longer. I was fairly beaten. Cast-iron +could not have stood it. I was prostrated in bed with fever—and worse.’ +Ferdinand was agitated, and took a large draught of his lemonade. + +‘Well, well, you need not enlarge upon that,’ replied Phil Fid, raising +his glass towards his lips, but again thinking better of it; ‘I heard +how bad you were from Seton, who shaved your head.’ + +‘I had scarcely recovered when the “Arrow” was ordered back, and I made +a vow.’ + +‘Took the pledge, perhaps!’ interjected the mid, with a slight curl of +his lip. + +‘No! I determined to work more and play less. We had a capital naval +instructor aboard, and our commander was as good an officer as ever trod +the deck. I studied—a little too hard perhaps, for I was laid up again. +The “Arrow” was, as usual, as good as her name, and we shot across to +Jamaica in five weeks. One evening as we were lying in Kingston harbour, +Seton, who had come over to join the Commodore as full surgeon, told me +what he had never ventured to divulge before.’ + +‘What was that?’ + +‘Why, that, on the very day I left London, James Barber died of a +frightful attack of _delirium tremens_!’ + +‘Poor Jemmy!’ said the elder Fid sorrowfully, taking a long pull of +consolation from his rummer. ‘Little did I think, while singing some of +your best songs off Belem Castle, that I had seen you for the last +time!’ + +‘_I_ hadn’t seen him for the last time,’ returned the lieutenant, with +awful significance. + +Philip assumed a careless air, and said, ‘Go on.’ + +‘We were ordered home in eighteen forty-five, and paid off in January. I +went to Portsmouth; was examined, and passed as lieutenant.’ + +This allusion to his brother’s better condition made poor Philip look +rather blank. + +‘On being confirmed at the Admiralty,’ continued Ferdinand, ‘I had to +give a dinner to the “Arrows;” which I did at the Salopian, Charing +Cross. In the excess of my joy at promotion, my determination of +temperance and avoidance of what is called “society” was swamped. I kept +it up once more; I went the “rounds,” and accepted all the dinner, +supper, and ball invitations I could get, invariably ending each morning +in one of the old haunts of dissipation. Old associations with James +Barber returned, and like causes produced similar effects. One morning +while maundering home, I began to feel the same wild confusion as had +previously commenced my dreadful malady.’ + +‘Ah! a little touched in the top-hamper.’ + +‘It was just daylight. Thinking to cool myself, I jumped into a wherry +to get pulled down here to Greenwich.’ + +‘Of course you were not quite sober.’ + +‘Don’t ask! I do not like even to allude to my sensations, for fear of +recalling them. My brain seemed in a flame. The boat appeared to be +going at the rate of twenty miles an hour. Fast as we were cleaving the +current, I heard my name distinctly called out. I reconnoitred, but +could see nobody. I looked over on one side of the gunwale, and, while +doing so, felt something touch me from the other; I felt a chill; I +turned round and saw——’ + +‘Whom?’ asked the midshipman, holding his breath. + +‘What seemed to be James Barber.’ + +‘Was he wet?’ + +‘As dry as you are.’ + +‘I summoned courage to speak. “Hallo! some mistake!” I exclaimed. + +‘“Not at all,” was the reply. “I’m James Barber. Don’t be frightened, +I’m harmless.” + +‘“But——” + +‘“I know what you are going to say,” interrupted the intruder. “Seton +did not deceive you—I am only an occasional visitor _up here_.” + +‘This brought me up with a round turn, and I had sense enough to wish my +friend would vanish as he came. “Where shall we land you?” I asked. + +‘“Oh, any where—it don’t matter. I have got to be out every night and +all night; and the nights are plaguy long just now.” + +‘I could not muster a word. + +‘“Ferd Fid,” continued the voice, which now seemed about fifty fathoms +deep; and fast as we were dropping down the stream, the boat gave a heel +to starboard, as if she had been broadsided by a tremendous wave—“Ferd +Fid, you recollect how I used to kill time; how I sang, drank, danced, +and supped all night long, and then slept and soda-watered it all day? +You remember what a happy fellow I seemed. Fools like yourself thought I +was so; but I say again, I wasn’t,” growled the voice, letting itself +down a few fathoms deeper. “Often and often I would have given the world +to have been a market-gardener or a dealer in chick-weed while roaring +‘He is a jolly good fellow,’ and ‘We won’t go home till morning!’ as I +emerged with a group from some tavern into Covent Garden market. But I’m +punished fearfully for my sins now. What do you think I have got to do +every night of my—never mind—what do you think is now marked out as my +dreadful punishment?” + +‘“Well, to walk the earth, I suppose,” said I. + +‘“No.” + +‘“To paddle about in the Thames from sunset to sun-rise?” + +‘“Worse. Ha! ha!” (his laugh sounded like the booming of a gong). “I +only wish my doom _was_ merely to be a mud-lark. No, no, I’m condemned +to rush about from one evening party and public house to another. At the +former I am bound for a certain term on each night to dance all the +quadrilles, and a few of the polkas and waltzes with clumsy partners; +and then I have to eat stale pastry and tough poultry before I am let +off from _that_ place. After, I am bound to go to some cellar or singing +place to listen to ‘Hail, smiling morn,’ ‘Mynheer Van Dunk,’ ‘The monks +of old,’ ‘Happy land,’ imitations of the London actors, and to hear a +whole canto of dreary extempore verses. I must also smoke a dozen of +cigars, knowing—as in my present condition I must know,—what they are +made of. The whole to end on each night with unlimited brandy (British) +and water, and eternal intoxication. Oh, F. F., be warned! be warned! +Take my advice; keep up your resolution, and don’t do it again. When +afloat, drink nothing stronger than purser’s tea. When on shore be +temperate in your pleasures; don’t turn night into day; don’t exchange +wholesome amusements for rabid debauchery, robust health for disease +and—well, I won’t mention it. When afloat, study your profession and +don’t get cashiered and cold-shouldered as I was. Promise me—nay, you +must swear!” + +‘At this word I thought I heard a gurgling sound in the water. + +‘“If I can get six solemn pledges before the season’s over, I’m only to +go these horrid rounds during the meeting of Parliament.” + +‘“_Will_ you swear?” again urged the voice, with persuasive agony. + +‘I was just able to comply. + +‘“Ten thousand thanks!” were the next words I heard; “I’m off, for there +is an awful pint of pale ale, a chop, and a glass of brandy and water +overdue yet, and I must devour them at the Shades.” (We were then close +to London Bridge.) “Don’t let the waterman pull to shore; I can get +there without troubling him.” + +‘I remember no more. When sensation returned, I was in bed, in this very +house, a shade worse than I had been from the previous attack.’ + +‘That,’ said Philip, who had left his tumbler untasted, ‘must have been +when you had your head shaved for the second time.’ + +‘Exactly so.’ + +‘And you really believe it was Jovial James’s ghost,’ inquired Fid, +earnestly. + +‘Would it be rational to doubt it?’ + +Philip rose and paced the room in deep thought for several minutes. He +cast two or three earnest looks at his brother, and a few longing ones +at his glass. In the course of his cogitation, he groaned out more than +once an apostrophe to poor ‘James Barber.’ At length he declared his +mind was made up. + +‘Ferd!’ he said, ‘I told you awhile ago to throw your lemonade over the +side of the Ship. Don’t. Souse out my grog instead.’ + +The lieutenant did as he was bid. + +‘And now,’ said Fid the elder, ‘ring for soda water; for one must drink +_something_.’ + + * * * * * + +Last year it was my own good fortune to sail with Mr. Philip Fid in the +‘Bombottle’ (74). He is not exactly a tee-totaller: but he never drinks +spirits, and will not touch wine unmixed with water, for fear of its +interfering with his studies, at which he is, with the assistance of the +naval instructor (who is also our chaplain), assiduous. He is our first +mate, and the smartest officer in the ship. Seton is our surgeon. + +One day, after a cheerful ward-room dinner (of which Fid was a guest), +while we were at anchor in the bay of Cadiz, the conversation happened +to turn upon Jovial Jemmy’s apparition, which had become the best +authenticated ghost story in Her Majesty’s Naval service. On that +occasion Seton undertook to explain the mystery upon medical principles. + +‘The fact is,’ he said, ‘what the commander of the “Arrow” saw +(Ferdinand had by this time got commissioned in his old ship) was a +spectrum, produced by that morbid condition of the brain, which is +brought on by the immoderate use of stimulants, and by dissipation; we +call it Transient Monomania. I could show you dozens of such ghosts in +the books, if you only had patience while I turned them up.’ + +Everybody declared that was unnecessary. We would take the doctor’s word +for it; though I feel convinced not a soul besides the chaplain and +myself had one iota of his faith shaken in the real presence of Jovial +Jemmy’s _post-mortem_ appearance to Fid the younger. + +Ghost or no ghost, however, the story had had the effect of converting +Philip Fid from one of the most intemperate and inattentive to one of +the soberest and best of Her Majesty’s officers. May his promotion be +speedy! + + P. CLAY, LIEUT. R.M. + + H.M.S. ‘BOMBOTTLE.’ + _20th March, 1850._ + + + + + THE TRUE STORY OF A COAL FIRE. + + +IN THREE CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER THE LAST. + +The air blew freshly over the bright waving grass of a broad sloping +field, on which the morning dews were sparkling and glancing in the sun. +The clouds moved quickly over head, in clear grey and golden tints on +their upper edges and foamy crests, with dark billows beneath, and their +shadows chased each other down the green slopes of the field in rapid +succession. Swiftly following them—now in the midst of them—now seeming +to lead them on, a fine bay horse with flying mane, wild outspreading +tail, and dilated nostrils, dashed onward exulting in his liberty, his +strength, his speed, and all the early associations and influences of +nature around him! He was a coal-mine horse, and had been just brought +up the shaft for a holiday. + +All this Flashley saw very distinctly, having been hastily landed at the +top of the shaft, lifted into a tram-cart, and trundled off, he knew not +by what enginery, till he was suddenly shot out on the top of a green +embankment, and rolling down to the bottom, found himself lying in a +fresh green field. He enjoyed the action, the spirit, and every motion +of the horse. It was the exact embodiment in activity of his strongest +present feelings and impulses. He jumped up to run after the horse, and +mount him if he could, or if not, scamper about the field with him in +the same fashion. But while he sought to advance, he felt as if he were +retreating—in fact, he was sure of it;—the grass ran by him, instead of +his running over it—the hedges ran through him, instead of his passing +along them—the trees sped away before him into the distance, as he was +carried backwards. He lost his legs—he sank upon the air—he was still +carried backwards—all the landscape faded, and with a loud splash he +fell into the sea! + +Down he sank, and fancied he saw green watery fields rolling on all +sides, and over him; and presently he heard a voice hoarsely calling as +if from some bank above. He certainly had heard the voice before, and +recognised it with considerable awe, though the words it uttered were +homely and unromantic enough. It shouted out ‘Nancy, of Sunderland!—boat +ahoy!’ + +By some inexplicable process—though he clearly distinguished a boat-hook +in the performance—Flashley was picked up from beneath the waves, and +lifted into a boat. It was a little, dirty, black, thick-gunnelled +jollyboat, rowed by two men in short black over-shirts and smutty canvas +trowsers. In the stern sat the captain with his arms folded. A +broad-brimmed tarpaulin hat shaded his face. They pulled alongside a +ship as black as death, but very lively; and a rope being lowered from +the side, it was passed under Flashley’s arms in a noose, and the next +moment he was hoisted on deck, and told to attend to his duty. + +‘My duty!’ ejaculated Flashley, ‘Attend to my duty! Oh, what _is_ my +duty?’ His eyes wandered round. Nothing but hard black planks and +timbers, and masts with reefed sails, and rigging all covered with +coal-dust, met his gaze. The sky, however, was visible above him—_that_ +was a great comfort. + +‘Scrape these carrots and parsnips,’ said the Captain solemnly, ‘very +clean, d’ye mind!—and take them to the cook in the galley, who’ll let +you know what’s next. When he has done with you, clean my sea-boots, and +grease them with candle-ends; dry my peajacket, pilot-coat, and +dreadnoughts; clean my pipe, and fill it—light, and take three whiffs to +start it; mix me a glass of grog, and bring it with the lighted pipe; +then, go and lend a hand in tarring the weather-rigging, and stand by, +to go aloft and ease down the fore-top-gallant mast when the mate wants +her on deck.’ + +‘Oh, heavens!’ thought Flashley, ‘are these then my duties! This hideous +black ship must be a collier—and I am the cabinboy!’ + +A mixed impulse of equal curiosity and apprehension (it certainly was +from no anxiety to commence his miscellaneous duties) caused him to +‘inquire his way’ to the cook’s galley. He was presently taken to a +square enclosure, not unlike a great black rabbit-hutch, open at both +sides, in which he was received by a man of large proportions, who was +seated on an inverted iron saucepan, smoking. The black visage gave a +grim smile and familiar wink. It could not be the miner who had acted as +his guide and companion underground! And yet— + +Flashley stepped back hastily, and cast an anxious look towards the +after-part of the deck. There stood the Captain. A short yet very +heavily-built figure,—a kind of stunted giant. He was not an Indian, nor +a Mulatto, nor an African,—and yet his face was as black as a coal, in +which several large veins rose prominently, and had a dull yellow tinge, +as if they had been run with gold, or some metallic substance of that +colour. Who could he be? Some demon _incog._? No, not that—but some one +whom Flashley held in equal awe. + +How long poor Flashley continued to perform his multifarious duties on +board the ‘Nancy’ he had no idea, but they appeared at times very +onerous, and he had to undergo many hardships. This was especially the +case in the North Sea during the winter months, which are often of the +severest kind on the coast between Sunderland and the mouth of the +Thames. The rigging was all frozen, so that to lay hold of a rope seemed +to take the skin off his hand; the cold went to the bone, and he hardly +knew if his hands were struck through with frost, or by a hot iron. The +decks were all slippery with ice, so were the ladders down to the +cabins, and the cook’s galley was garnished all round with large +icicles, from six inches to a foot and a half in length, which kept up a +continual drip, drip, on all sides, by way of complimentary +acknowledgment of the caboose-fire inside. Sometimes the wind burst the +side-doors open—blew the fire clean out of the caboose, and scattered +the live and dead coals all over the deck, or whirled them into the sea. +One night the galley itself, with all its black and smutty +paraphernalia, was torn up and blown overboard. It danced about on the +tops of the waves—made deep curtseys—swept up the side of a long +billow—was struck by a cross-wave, and disappeared in a hundred black +planks and splinters. That same night Flashley was called up from his +berth to go aloft and lend a hand to close-reef the main-topsail. The +sail was all frozen, and so stiff that he could not raise it; but as he +hauled on one of the points, the point broke, and something happened to +him,—he did not know what, but he thought he fell backwards, and the +wind flew away with him. + +The next thing he remembered was that of lying in his berth with a +bandage round one arm, and a large patch on one side of his head, while +the cook sat on a sea-chest by his side reading to him. + +A deep splashing plunge was now heard, followed by the rapid rumbling of +an iron chain along the deck overhead. The collier had arrived off +Rotherhithe, and cast anchor. + +‘Up, Flashley!’ cried the cook; ‘on deck, my lad! to receive the +whippers who are coming alongside.’ + +‘What for?’ exclaimed Flashley; ‘why am I to be whipped?’ + +‘It is not you,’ said the cook, laughing gruffly, as he ran up the +ladder, ‘but the coal-baskets that are to be whipped up, and discharged +into the lighter.’ + +The deck being cleared, and the main hatchway opened, a small iron +wheel (called _gin_) was rigged out on a rope passing over the top of +a spar (called _derrick_) at some 18 or 20 feet above the deck. Over +this wheel a rope was passed, to which four other ropes were attached +lower down. These were for the four whippers. At the other end of the +wheel-rope was slung a basket. A second basket stood upon the coals, +where four men also stood with shovels—two to fill each basket, one +being always up and one down. The whippers had a stage raised above +the deck, made of five rails, which they ascended for the pull, higher +and higher as the coals got lower in the hold. The two baskets-full +were the complement for one measure. The ‘measure’ was a black angular +wooden box with its front placed close to the vessel’s side, just +above a broad trough that slanted towards the lighter. Beside the +measure stood the ‘meter,’ (an elderly personage with his head and +jaws bound up in a bundle-handkerchief, to protect him from the +draughts,) who had a piece of chalk in one hand, while with the other +he was ready to raise a latch, and let all the coals burst out of the +measure into the trough, by the fall of the front part of the box. The +measure was suspended to one end of a balance, a weight being attached +to the other, so that the weighing and measuring were performed by one +process under the experienced, though rheumatic, eye of the meter. + +The whippers continued at their laborious work all day; and as the coals +were taken out of the hold, (the basket descending lower and lower as +the depth increased,) the ‘whippers’ who hauled up, gave their weight to +the pull, and all swung down from their ricketty rails with a leap upon +the deck, as the basket ran up; ascending again to their position while +the basket was being emptied into the trough. + +The lighter had five compartments, called ‘rooms,’ each holding seven +tons of coals; and when these were filled, the men sometimes heaped +coals all over them from one end of the craft to the other, as high up +as the combings, or side-ridges, would afford protection for the heap. +By these means a lighter could carry forty-two tons, and upwards; and +some of the craft having no separate ‘rooms,’ but an open hold, fore and +aft, could carry between fifty and fifty-five tons. + +A canal barge or monkey-boat (so called we presume from being very +narrow in the loins) now came alongside, and having taken in her load of +coals, the friendly cook of the ‘Nancy’ expressed an anxiety that +Flashley should lose no opportunity of gaining all possible experience +on the subject of coals, and the coal-trade generally, and therefore +proposed to him a canal trip, having already spoken with the ‘captain of +the barge’ on the subject. Before Flashley had time to object, or utter +a demur, he was handed over the side, and pitched neatly on his legs on +the after-part of the barge, close to a little crooked iron chimney, +sticking blackly out of the deck, and sending forth a dense cloud of the +dirtiest and most unsavoury smoke. The captain was standing on the +ladder of the cabin, leaning on his great arms and elbows over the deck, +and completely filling up the small square hatchway, so that all things +being black alike, it seemed as if this brawny object were some live +excrescence of the barge, or huge black mandrake whose roots were spread +about beneath, and, perhaps, here and there, sending a speculative +straggler through a chink into the water. + +The mandrake’s eyes smiled, and he showed a very irregular set of large +white and yellow teeth, as he scrunched down through the small square +hole to enable the young passenger and tourist to descend. + +Flashley, with a forlorn look up at the sky, and taking a good breath of +fresh air to fortify him for what his nose already warned him he would +have to encounter, managed to get down the four upright bars nailed +close to the bulk-head, and called the ‘ladder.’ + +He found himself in a small aperture of no definite shape, and in which +there was only room for one person to ‘turn’ at a time. Yet five living +creatures were already there, and apparently enjoying themselves. There +was the captain, and there was his wife, and there was a child in the +wife’s right arm, and another of five years old packed against her left +side, and there was the ‘crew’ of the barge, which consisted, for the +present, of one boy of sixteen, of very stunted growth, and with one eye +turning inwards to such a degree that sometimes the sight literally +darted out, seeming to shoot beneath the bridge of his nose. They were +all sitting, or rather hunched up, at ‘tea.’ The place had an +overwhelming odour of coal-smoke, and tobacco smoke, and brown sugar, +and onions, to say nothing of general ‘closeness,’ and the steam of a +wet blanket-coat, which was lying in a heap to dry before the little +iron stove. The door of this was open, and the fire shone brightly, and +seemed to ‘_wink_’ at Flashley as he looked that way. + +‘Here we are!’ said a strange voice. + +Flashley looked earnestly into the stove. He thought the voice came from +the fire. The coals certainly looked very glowing, and shot out what a +German or other imaginative author would call _significant_ sparks. + +‘Here we are!’ said the voice from another part of the cabin, and, +turning in that direction, Flashley found that it proceeded from the +‘crew,’ who had contrived to stand up, and was endeavouring to give a +close imitation of the ‘clown,’ on his first appearance after +transformation. This, by the help of his odd eye, was very significant +indeed. + +And here they were, no doubt, and here they lived from day to day, and +from night to night; and a pretty wretched, dirty, monotonous life it +was. Having once got into a canal, with the horse at his long tug, the +tediousness of the time was not easily to be surpassed. From canal to +river, and from river to canal, there was scarcely any variety, except +in the passage through the locks, the management of the rope in passing +another barge-horse on the tow-path, and the means to be employed in +taking the horse over a bridge. The duty of driving the horse along the +tow-path, as may be conjectured, fell to the lot of our young tourist. +Once or twice, ‘concealed by the murky shades of night,’ as a certain +novelist would express it, he had ventured to mount the horse’s back; +but the animal, not relishing this addition to his work, always took +care, when they passed under a bridge, or near a wall, or hard +embankment, to scrape his rider’s leg along the side, so that very +little good was got in that way. And once, when Flashley had a +‘holiday,’ and was allowed to walk up and down the full length of the +barge upon the top of the coals, a sudden bend in the river brought them +close upon a very low wooden bridge, just when he was at the wrong end +of the barge for making a dive to save his head. Flashley ran along the +top as fast as he could, but the rascally horse seemed to quicken his +pace, under the captain’s mischievous lash, so that finding the shadow +of the bridge running at him before he could make his leap from the top +of the coals, he was obliged to save himself from being violently +knocked off, by jumping hastily into the canal, to the infinite +amusement and delight of the captain, his wife, and the ‘crew.’ The +horse being stopped, the captain came back and lugged him out of the +bulrushes just as he had got thoroughly entangled, and immersed to the +chin; knee-deep in mud, and with frogs and eels skeeling and striking +out in all directions around him. + +After a week or ten days passed in this delightful manner, Flashley +found the barge was again on the Thames, no longer towed by a horse and +rope, but by a little dirty steam-tug. They stopped on meeting a lighter +on its way up with the tide, and Flashley being told to step on board, +was received by his grim but good-natured companion and instructor, the +cook of the ‘Nancy,’ now going up with a load to Bankside, and +performing the feat of managing two black oars of enormous length and +magnitude. They were worked in large grooves in each side of the +lighter, one oar first receiving all the strength of this stupendous +lighterman (late cook) with his feet firmly planted on a cross-beam in +front, so as to add to the mighty pull of his arms, all the strength of +his legs, as well as all the weight of his body. Having made this broad +sweep and deep, he left the oar lying along the groove, and went to the +one on the other side, with which he performed a similar sweep. + +‘Here’s a brig with all sails set, close upon us!’ cried Flashley. + +‘She’d best take care of herself;’ said our lighterman, as he went on +deliberately to complete his long pull and strong. + +Bump came the brig’s starboard bow against the lighter; and instantly +heeling over with a lift and a lurch, the former reeled away to leeward, +a row of alarmed but more enraged faces instantly appearing over the +bulwarks—those ‘aft’ with eyes flashing on the lighterman, and those +‘for’ard,’ anxiously looking over to see if the bows had been stove in. +A volley of anathemas followed our lighterman; who, however, continued +slowly to rise and sink backward with his prodigious pull, apparently +not hearing a word, or even aware of what had happened. + +In this way they went up the river among sailing-vessels of all kinds, +and between the merchants’ ‘forest of masts,’ like some huge +antediluvian water-reptile deliberately winding its way up a broad river +between the woods of a region unknown to man. + +‘But here’s a steamer!’ shouted Flashley.—‘We shall be run down, or +she’ll go slap over us!’ + +The man at the wheel, however, knew better. He had dealt with lightermen +before to-day. He therefore turned off the sharp nose of the steamer, so +as not merely to clear it, but dexterously to send the ‘swell’ in a long +rolling swath up against the lighter, over which it completely ran, +leaving the performer at the oars drenched up to the hips, and carrying +Flashley clean overboard. He was swept away in the rolling wave, and +might have been drowned, had not a coalheaver at one of the wharfs put +off a skiff to his rescue. + +So now behold Flashley at work among the wharfingers of Bankside. + +Before the coals are put into the sack, they undergo a process called +‘screening.’ This consists in throwing them up against a slanting sieve +of iron wire, through which the fine coal and coal-dust runs: all that +falls on the outer side of the screen is then sacked. But many having +found that the coals are often broken still more by this process, to +their loss, (as few people will buy the small coal and dust, except at +breweries and waterworks), they have adopted the plan of a round sieve +held in the hand, and filled by a shovel. The delightful and lucrative +appointment of holding the sieve was, of course, conferred upon +Flashley. His shoulders and arms ached as though they would drop off +long before his day’s work was done; but what he gained in especial, was +the fine coal-dust which the wind carried into his face—often at one +gust, filling his eyes, mouth, nostrils, and the windward ear. + +In the condition to which this post soon brought his ‘personal +appearance,’ Flashley was one morning called up at five to go with a +waggon-load of coals a few miles into the country, in company with two +coalheavers and a carman. Up he got. And off they went. + +Flashley, having worked hard all the previous day, was in no sprightly +condition on his early rising; so, by the time the waggon had got beyond +the outskirts of London, and begun to labour slowly up hill with its +heavy load, he was fain to ask in a humble voice of the head coalheaver, +permission to lay hold of a rope which dangled behind, in order to help +himself onwards. This being granted with a smile, the good-nature of +which (and how seldom do we meet with a coalheaver who is not a +good-natured fellow) shone even through his dust-begrimed visage, +Flashley continued to follow the waggon till he had several times nearly +gone to sleep; and was only reminded of the fact by a stumble which +brought him with his nose very near the ground. The head coalheaver, +observing this, took compassion on him; and being a gigantic man, laid +hold of Flashley’s trowsers, and with one lift of his arm deposited the +young man upon the top of the second tier of coal-sacks. There he at +once resigned himself to a delicious repose. + +The waggon meanwhile pursued its heavy journey, with an occasional pause +for a slight moistening of the mouth of men and horses. At length the +removal of one or two of the upper tier of sacks caused Flashley to +raise his drowsy head, and look round him. + +The waggon had pulled up close to a garden-gate, on the other side of +which were a crowd of apple-trees. The ripe fruit loaded the branches +till they hung in a vista, beneath which the sacks of coals had to be +carried. All the horses had their nose-bags on, and were very busy. It +was a bright autumn day; the sun was fast setting; a rich beam of +crimson and gold cast its splendours over the garden, and lighted up the +ripe apples to a most romantic degree. + +The garden gates were thrown open; the passage of coal-sacks beneath the +hanging boughs commenced. + +Not an apple was knocked down, even by the tall figure of the leading +coalheaver. Stooping and dodging, and gently humouring a special +difficulty, he performed his walk of thirty yards, and more, till he +turned the shrubbery corner, and thence made his way into the +coal-cellar. His companion followed him, in turn, imitating his great +example; and, if we make exception of three lemon-pippins and a codlin, +with equal success. But where these accidental apples fell, there they +remained; none were promoted to mouth or pocket. + +It was now half-past four, and ‘the milk’ arriving at the gate, was +deposited in its little tin can on a strawberry bed just beyond the +gate-post. The head coalheaver’s turn with his load being next, he +observed the milk as he approached, and bending his long legs, by +judicious gradations, till he reached the little can with the fingers of +his left hand, balancing the sack of coals at the same time, so that not +a fragment tumbled out of the open mouth, he slowly rose again to his +right position, holding out the can at arm’s length to prevent any +coal-dust finding its way to the delicate surface within. In this +fashion, with tenfold care bestowed on the ounce and a half in his left +hand, to that which he gave to the two hundred weight of coals on his +back (not reckoning the sack, which, being an old and patched one, +weighed fifteen pounds more) the coalheaver made his way, stooping and +sideling beneath the apple-boughs as before, all of which he passed +without knocking a single apple down, and deposited the little can in +the hands of an admiring maidservant, as he passed the kitchen window on +his way to the coal-cellar. + +After the sacks had all been shot in the cellar, and the hats of each +man filled with apples by the applauding master of the house, the +counting of the empty sacks commenced. Having been thrice exhorted to be +present at this ceremony by a wise neighbour, who stood looking on +anxiously, from the next garden, with his nostrils resting on the top of +the wall, the owner of the apple garden went forth to the gate, and with +a grave countenance beheld the sacks counted. Orders for beer being then +given on the nearest country alehouse, the coalheavers carefully +gathered up all the odd coals which had fallen here and there, then +swept the paths, and with hot and smiling visages took their departure, +slowly lounging after the waggon and stretching their brawny arms and +backs after their herculean work. + +As the men thus proceeded down the winding lane, crunching apples, and +thinking of beer to follow, the carman was the first to speak. + +‘How _cute_ the chap was arter _they_ sacks!’ said he with a grin, and +half turning round to look back. + +‘There’s a gennelman,’ said the head coalheaver, ‘as don’t ought to be +wronged out of the vally of _that_!’ the amount in question being a +pinch of coal-dust which the speaker took up from one side of the +waggon, and sprinkled in the air. + +‘He allus gives a ticket for beer,’ said the second coalheaver, ‘but +last time the apples warn’t ripe.’ + +‘He counted the _sacks_ nation sharp, howsever,’ pursued the carman with +a very knowing look. + +At this both the coalheavers laughed loudly. + +‘Ah!’ said the second coalheaver; ‘people think that makes all sure. +They don’t think of the ease of bringing an empty sack with us, after +dropping a full one by the way. Not they. Nobody yet was ever wise +enough to count the full sacks when they first come.’ + +On hearing this, the carman’s face presented a confounded and perplexed +look of irritated stupidity, marked in such very hard lines, that the +coalheavers laughed for the next five minutes with the recollection of +it. + +Towards dusk the waggon returned to the wharf, and next day Flashley +resumed his usual duties. + +One morning, after several hours’ work with the sieve in ‘screening,’ +when his face and hands were, if possible, more hopelessly black than +they had ever been before, Flashley was called to take a note to a +merchant at the Coal Exchange. This merchant’s name seemed rather an +unusual one to meet with in England—being no less a person than Haji Ali +Camaralzaman and Co. + +The merchant was a short, solid-built figure, and stood with a heavy +immobility that gave the effect of a metallic image rather than a man. +He was a Moor, though nearly black, and with very sparkling eyes. He was +dressed in a long dark blouse, open at the breast, and displaying a +black satin waistcoat, embroidered with golden sprigs and tendrils. It +seemed to Flashley that he spoke a foreign language; and yet he +understood him, though without having any idea what language it was. +Something passed between them in a very earnest tone, almost a whisper, +about Sinbad the Sailor, and a sort of confused discussion as to the +geographical position of the Valley of Black Diamonds; also, if coals +were ever burnt in the east; then a confused voice from within the hall +called out loudly, ‘The North Star!’ to which a chorus of coal-merchants +responded in a low chant, ‘What money does he owe the divan?’ + +‘Yes,’ said the great Camaralzaman, ‘and what lost time does he owe to +nature and to knowledge? Let the North Star look to it.’ + +‘It does, great Sir!’ responded the chorus of coal-merchants, in the +same low chant. ‘It shines directly over the shaft of the William Pitt +mine.’ + +‘Enough,’ said Camaralzaman. + +At this all the merchants fell softly into a heap of white ashes. + +Then the Moor, turning to Flashley, said, ‘You must reflect a little on +all these things. Coals are more valuable to the world than the riches +of other mines—more important than gold and silver, and diamonds of the +first water, because they are the means of advancing and extending the +comforts and refinements of life—the industrial arts, the trades, the +ornamental arts. Are not these great things? Behold, there are greater +yet which are indebted to the coal-fires. For, may I not name Science, +Agriculture (in the making of iron, and the steam-ploughs which are +forthcoming), Commerce and Navigation. Moreover, do they not tend, by +the generation of steam, to annihilate space and time, and are they not +rapidly carrying knowledge and civilisation to the remotest corners of +the habitable globe? By myriads of jets, in countless forms, they turn +the dark night into the brightness of day. Their history commences from +the infancy of the earth; they proceed through gradations of wonders; +are no less wonderful in the varieties and magnitude of their utility, +and do not cease to be of use to man, even when the bright fire is +utterly extinguished, and its materials can no more be re-illumined, but +are claimed for the garden and the brickfield, not by the dinging and +tolling of the bell-man of your grandsires, but by the long-drawn wail +of the queer-kneed dusky figure in the flap-hat, who wanders down your +streets yowling ‘’Sto—e! o—e!’ + +‘And is it then all over? Verily, it doth appear when the coal fire is +fairly burnt out to cinders and ashes, that it hath performed its +complete circle, and is for ever ended. It is _not_ so. The antediluvian +forests absorbed the gases of the atmosphere; much of these have been +drawn off; and appropriated, but some portions have remained locked up +and hidden in the depths of the earth ever since. Lo! the coal fire is +lighted!—flames, for the first time, ascend from it. Then, also for the +first time, are liberated gases which are of the date of those primæval +forests; they ascend into the atmosphere, and once more form a portion +of those elements which are again to assist in the growth of forests. +The Coal-Spirit has then performed his grand cycle—and recommences his +journey through future cycles of formation.’ + +A great blaze of light now smote across the hall, in which everything +vanished. Then passed a rushing panorama through Flashley’s brain, +wherein he saw whirling by, the stage of a saloon theatre, with a +lighted cigar and two tankards dancing a ridiculous reel, till the whole +scene changed to a melancholy swamp, out of which arose, to solemn +music, an antediluvian forest. The Elfin of the Coal-mine came and stood +in the midst, and some one held an iron umbrella over Flashley’s head, +which instantly caused him to sink deep through the earth, and he soon +found himself crawling in a dark trench terminating in a chasm looking +out upon the sea. He was immediately whisked across by a black eagle, +and dropped in a bright-green field, where he met a tall dusky figure +carrying a sack of coals and a ‘ha’p’orth’ of milk; but just as he was +about to speak to him, a voice called out ‘Nancy!’ and all was darkness, +while through the horrid gloom he saw the glaring eye-ball of a horse. +‘Camaralzaman!’ cried the voice again: ‘Have you been sleeping here all +night in the arm chair?’ Then a vivid flame shot over Flashley’s +eyelids—there was a great fire blazing before him, in the midst of which +he saw the head of the Elfin, who gave him a nod full of meaning, and +also like bidding farewell, and disappeared in the fire,—while at his +side stood Margery with the carpet-broom. + +It was six in the morning, and she had just lighted the parlour fire. +Without replying to any of her interrogations of surprise, Flashley +slowly rose, and went out to take a few turns round the garden; where he +fell into a train of thought which, in all probability, will have a +salutary influence on his future life. + + + + + SUPPOSING! + + +Supposing, we were to change the Property and Income Tax a little, and +make it somewhat heavier on realised property, and somewhat lighter on +mere income, fixed and uncertain, I wonder whether we should be +committing any violent injustice! + +Supposing, we were to be more Christian and less mystical, agreeing more +about the spirit and fighting less about the letter, I wonder whether we +should present a very irreligious and indecent spectacle to the mass of +mankind! + +Supposing, the Honorable Member for White troubled his head a little +less about the Honorable Member for Black, and _vice versâ_, and that +both applied themselves a little more in earnest to the real business of +the honorable people and the honorable country, I wonder whether it +would be unparliamentary! + +Supposing, that, when there was a surplus in the Public Treasury, we +laid aside our own particular whims, and all agreed that there were four +elements necessary to the existence of our fellow creatures, to wit, +earth, air, fire, and water, and that these were the first grand +necessaries to be uncooped and untaxed, I wonder whether it would be +unreasonable! + +Supposing, we had at this day a Baron Jenner, or a Viscount Watt, or an +Earl Stephenson, or a Marquess of Brunel, or a dormant Shakespeare +peerage, or a Hogarth baronetcy, I wonder whether it would be cruelly +disgraceful to our old nobility! + +Supposing, we were all of us to come off our pedestals and mix a little +more with those below us, with no fear but that genius, rank, and +wealth, would always sufficiently assert their own superiority, I wonder +whether we should lower ourselves beyond retrieval! + +Supposing, we were to have less botheration and more real education, I +wonder whether we should have less or more compulsory colonisation, and +Cape of Good Hope very natural indignation! + +Supposing, we were materially to simplify the laws, and to abrogate the +absurd fiction that everybody is supposed to be acquainted with them, +when we know very well that such acquaintance is the study of a life in +which some fifty men may have been proficient perhaps in five times +fifty years, I wonder whether laws would be respected less? + +Supposing, we maintained too many of such fictions altogether, and found +their stabling come exceedingly expensive! + +Supposing, we looked about us, and seeing a cattle-market originally +established in an open place, standing in the midst of a great city +because of the unforeseen growth of that great city all about it, and, +hearing it asserted that the market was still adapted to the +requirements and conveniences of the great city, made up our minds to +say that this was stark-mad nonsense and we wouldn’t bear it, I wonder +whether we should be revolutionary! + +Supposing, we were to harbour a small suspicion that there was too much +doing in the diplomatic line of business, and that the world would get +on better with that shop shut up three days a week, I wonder whether it +would be a huge impiety! + +Supposing, Governments were to consider public questions less with +reference to their own time, and more with reference to all time, I +wonder how we should get on then! + +Supposing, the wisdom of our ancestors should turn out to be a mere +phrase, and that if there were any sense in it, it should follow that we +ought to be believers in the worship of the Druids at this hour, I +wonder whether any people would have talked mere moonshine all their +lives! + +Supposing, we were clearly to perceive that we cannot keep some men out +of their share in the administration of affairs, and were to say to +them, ‘Come, brothers, let us take counsel together, and see how we can +best manage this; and don’t expect too much from what you get; and let +us all in our degree put our shoulders to the wheel, and strive; and let +us all improve ourselves and all abandon something of our extreme +opinions for the general harmony,’ I wonder whether we should want so +many special constables on any future tenth of April, or should talk so +much about it any more! + +I wonder whether people who are quite easy about anything, usually _do_ +talk quite so much about it! + +Mr. Lane, the traveller, tells us of a superstition the Egyptians have, +that the mischievous Genii are driven away by iron, of which they have +an instinctive dread. Supposing, this should foreshadow the +disappearance of the evil spirits and ignorances besetting this earth, +before the iron steam-engines and roads, I wonder whether we could +expedite their flight at all by iron energy! + +Supposing, we were just to try two or three of these experiments! + + + Published at the Office, No. 16, Wellington Street North, Strand. + Printed by BRADBURY & EVANS, Whitefriars, London. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Renumbered footnotes. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● The caret (^) serves as a superscript indicator, applicable to + individual characters (like 2^d) and even entire phrases (like + 1^{st}). + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78167 *** |