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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78183-0.txt b/78183-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9052abc --- /dev/null +++ b/78183-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2366 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78183 *** + + + “_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE. + + + + + HOUSEHOLD WORDS. + A WEEKLY JOURNAL. + + + CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. + + + N^{o.} 18.] SATURDAY, JULY 27, 1850. [PRICE 2_d._ + + + + + A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY. + + +In pursuance of the intention mentioned at the close of a former paper +on “The Modern Science of Thief-taking,” we now proceed to endeavour to +convey to our readers some faint idea of the extraordinary dexterity, +patience, and ingenuity, exercised by the Detective Police. That our +description may be as graphic as we can render it, and may be perfectly +reliable, we will make it, so far as in us lies, a piece of plain truth. +And first, we have to inform the reader how the anecdotes we are about +to communicate, came to our knowledge. + +We are not by any means devout believers in the Old Bow-Street Police. +To say the truth, we think there was a vast amount of humbug about those +worthies. Apart from many of them being men of very indifferent +character, and far too much in the habit of consorting with thieves and +the like, they never lost a public occasion of jobbing and trading in +mystery and making the most of themselves. Continually puffed besides by +incompetent magistrates anxious to conceal their own deficiencies, and +hand-in-glove with the penny-a-liners of that time, they became a sort +of superstition. Although as a Preventive Police they were utterly +ineffective, and as a Detective Police were very loose and uncertain in +their operations, they remain with some people, a superstition to the +present day. + +On the other hand, the Detective Force organised since the establishment +of the existing Police, is so well chosen and trained, proceeds so +systematically and quietly, does its business in such a workman-like +manner, and is always so calmly and steadily engaged in the service of +the public, that the public really do not know enough of it, to know a +tithe of its usefulness. Impressed with this conviction, and interested +in the men themselves, we represented to the authorities at Scotland +Yard, that we should be glad, if there were no official objection, to +have some talk with the Detectives. A most obliging and ready permission +being given, a certain evening was appointed with a certain Inspector +for a social conference between ourselves and the Detectives, at our +Office in Wellington Street, Strand, London. In consequence of which +appointment the party “came off,” which we are about to describe. And we +beg to repeat that, avoiding such topics as it might for obvious reasons +be injurious to the public, or disagreeable to respectable individuals, +to touch upon in print, our description is as exact as we can make it. + +The reader will have the goodness to imagine the Sanctum Sanctorum of +Household Words. Anything that best suits the reader’s fancy, will best +represent that magnificent chamber. We merely stipulate for a round +table in the middle, with some glasses and cigars arranged upon it; and +the editorial sofa elegantly hemmed in between that stately piece of +furniture and the wall. + +It is a sultry evening at dusk. The stones of Wellington Street are hot +and gritty, and the watermen and hackney-coachmen at the Theatre +opposite, are much flushed and aggravated. Carriages are constantly +setting down the people who have come to Fairy-Land; and there is a +mighty shouting and bellowing every now and then, deafening us for the +moment, through the open windows. + +Just at dusk, Inspectors Wield and Stalker are announced; but we do not +undertake to warrant the orthography of any of the names here mentioned. +Inspector Wield presents Inspector Stalker. Inspector Wield is a +middle-aged man of a portly presence, with a large, moist, knowing eye, +a husky voice, and a habit of emphasising his conversation by the aid of +a corpulent fore-finger, which is constantly in juxta-position with his +eyes or nose. Inspector Stalker is a shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman—in +appearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trained +schoolmaster, from the Normal Establishment at Glasgow. Inspector Wield +one might have known, perhaps, for what he is—Inspector Stalker, never. + +The ceremonies of reception over, Inspectors Wield and Stalker observe +that they have brought some sergeants with them. The sergeants are +presented—five in number, Sergeant Dornton, Sergeant Witchem, Sergeant +Mith, Sergeant Fendall, and Sergeant Straw. We have the whole Detective +Force from Scotland Yard with one exception. They sit down in a +semi-circle (the two Inspectors at the two ends) at a little distance +from the round table, facing the editorial sofa. Every man of them, in a +glance, immediately takes an inventory of the furniture and an accurate +sketch of the editorial presence. The Editor feels that any gentleman in +company could take him up, if need should be, without the smallest +hesitation, twenty years hence. + +The whole party are in plain clothes. Sergeant Dornton, about fifty +years of age, with a ruddy face and a high sun-burnt forehead, has the +air of one who has been a Sergeant in the army—he might have sat to +Wilkie for the Soldier in the Reading of the Will. He is famous for +steadily pursuing the inductive process, and, from small beginnings, +working on from clue to clue until he bags his man. Sergeant Witchem, +shorter and thicker-set, and marked with the small pox, has something of +a reserved and thoughtful air, as if he were engaged in deep +arithmetical calculations. He is renowned for his acquaintance with the +swell mob. Sergeant Mith, a smooth-faced man with a fresh bright +complexion, and a strange air of simplicity, is a dab at housebreakers. +Sergeant Fendall, a light-haired, well-spoken, polite person, is a +prodigious hand at pursuing private inquiries of a delicate nature. +Straw, a little wiry Sergeant of meek demeanour and strong sense, would +knock at a door and ask a series of questions in any mild character you +chose to prescribe to him, from a charity-boy upwards, and seem as +innocent as an infant. They are, one and all, respectable-looking men; +of perfectly good deportment and unusual intelligence; with nothing +lounging or slinking in their manners; with an air of keen observation, +and quick perception when addressed; and generally presenting in their +faces, traces more or less marked of habitually leading lives of strong +mental excitement. They have all good eyes; and they all can, and they +all do, look full at whomsoever they speak to. + +We light the cigars, and hand round the glasses (which are very +temperately used indeed), and the conversation begins by a modest +amateur reference on the Editorial part to the swell mob. Inspector +Wield immediately removes his cigar from his lips, waves his right hand, +and says, “Regarding the Swell Mob, Sir, I can’t do better than call +upon Sergeant Witchem. Because the reason why? I’ll tell you. Sergeant +Witchem is better acquainted with the Swell Mob than any officer in +London.” + +Our heart leaping up when we beheld this rainbow in the sky, we turn to +Sergeant Witchem, who very concisely, and in well-chosen language, goes +into the subject forthwith. Meantime, the whole of his brother officers +are closely interested in attending to what he says, and observing its +effect. Presently they begin to strike in, one or two together, when an +opportunity offers, and the conversation becomes general. But these +brother officers only come in to the assistance of each other—not to the +contradiction—and a more amicable brotherhood there could not be. From +the swell mob, we diverge to the kindred topics of cracksmen, fences, +public-house dancers, area-sneaks, designing young people who go out +“gonophing,” and other “schools,” to which our readers have already been +introduced. It is observable throughout these revelations, that +Inspector Stalker, the Scotchman, is always exact and statistical, and +that when any question of figures arises, everybody as by one consent +pauses, and looks to him. + +When we have exhausted the various schools of Art—during which +discussion the whole body have remained profoundly attentive, except +when some unusual noise at the Theatre over the way, has induced some +gentleman to glance inquiringly towards the window in that direction, +behind his next neighbour’s back—we burrow for information on such +points as the following. Whether there really are any highway robberies +in London, or whether some circumstances not convenient to be mentioned +by the aggrieved party, usually precede the robberies complained of, +under that head, which quite change their character? Certainly the +latter, almost always. Whether in the case of robberies in houses, where +servants are necessarily exposed to doubt, innocence under suspicion +ever becomes so like guilt in appearance, that a good officer need be +cautious how he judges it? Undoubtedly. Nothing is so common or +deceptive as such appearances at first. Whether in a place of public +amusement, a thief knows an officer, and an officer knows a +thief,—supposing them, beforehand, strangers to each other—because each +recognises in the other, under all disguise, an inattention to what is +going on, and a purpose that is not the purpose of being entertained? +Yes. That’s the way exactly. Whether it is reasonable or ridiculous to +trust to the alleged experiences of thieves as narrated by themselves, +in prisons, or penitentiaries, or anywhere? In general, nothing more +absurd. Lying is their habit and their trade; and they would rather +lie—even if they hadn’t an interest in it, and didn’t want to make +themselves agreeable—than tell the truth. + +From these topics, we glide into a review of the most celebrated and +horrible of the great crimes that have been committed within the last +fifteen or twenty years. The men engaged in the discovery of almost all +of them, and in the pursuit or apprehension of the murderers, are here, +down to the very last instance. One of our guests gave chase to and +boarded the Emigrant Ship, in which the murderess last hanged in London +was supposed to have embarked. We learn from him that his errand was not +announced to the passengers, who may have no idea of it to this hour. +That he went below, with the captain, lamp in hand—it being dark, and +the whole steerage abed and seasick—and engaged the Mrs. Manning who +_was_ on board, in a conversation about her luggage, until she was, with +no small pains, induced to raise her head, and turn her face towards the +light. Satisfied that she was not the object of his search, he quietly +re-embarked in the Government steamer alongside, and steamed home again +with the intelligence. + +When we have exhausted these subjects, too, which occupy a considerable +time in the discussion, two or three leave their chairs, whisper +Sergeant Witchem, and resume their seats. Sergeant Witchem, leaning +forward a little, and placing a hand on each of his legs, then modestly +speaks as follows: + +“My brother officers wish me to relate a little account of my taking +Tally-ho Thompson. A man oughtn’t to tell what he has done himself; but +still, as nobody was with me, and, consequently, as nobody but myself +can tell it, I’ll do it in the best way I can, if it should meet your +approval.” + +We assure Sergeant Witchem that he will oblige us very much, and we all +compose ourselves to listen with great interest and attention. + +“Tally-ho Thompson,” says Sergeant Witchem, after merely wetting his +lips with his brandy-and-water, “Tally-ho Thompson was a famous +horse-stealer, couper, and magsman. Thompson, in conjunction with a pal +that occasionally worked with him, gammoned a countryman out of a good +round sum of money, under pretence of getting him a situation—the +regular old dodge—and was afterwards in the ‘Hue and Cry’ for a horse—a +horse that he stole, down in Hertfordshire. I had to look after +Thompson, and I applied myself, of course, in the first instance, to +discovering where he was. Now, Thompson’s wife lived, along with a +little daughter, at Chelsea. Knowing that Thompson was somewhere in the +country, I watched the house—especially at post-time in the +morning—thinking Thompson was pretty likely to write to her. Sure +enough, one morning the postman comes up, and delivers a letter at Mrs. +Thompson’s door. Little girl opens the door, and takes it in. We’re not +always sure of postmen, though the people at the post-offices are always +very obliging. A postman may help us, or he may not,—just as it happens. +However, I go across the road, and I say to the postman, after he has +left the letter, ‘Good morning! how are you?’ ‘How are _you_?’ says he. +‘You’ve just delivered a letter for Mrs. Thompson.’ ‘Yes, I have.’ ‘You +didn’t happen to remark what the post-mark was, perhaps?’ ‘No,’ says he, +‘I didn’t.’ ‘Come,’ says I, ‘I’ll be plain with you. I’m in a small way +of business, and I have given Thompson credit, and I can’t afford to +lose what he owes me. I know he’s got money, and I know he’s in the +country, and if you could tell me what the post-mark was, I should be +very much obliged to you, and you’d do a service to a tradesman in a +small way of business that can’t afford a loss.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I do +assure you that I did not observe what the post-mark was; all I know is, +that there was money in the letter—I should say a sovereign.’ This was +enough for me, because of course I knew that Thompson having sent his +wife money, it was probable she’d write to Thompson, by return of post, +to acknowledge the receipt. So I said ‘Thankee’ to the postman, and I +kept on the watch. In the afternoon I saw the little girl come out. Of +course I followed her. She went into a stationer’s shop, and I needn’t +say to you that I looked in at the window. She bought some writing-paper +and envelopes, and a pen. I think to myself, ‘That’ll do!’—watch her +home again—and don’t go away, you may be sure, knowing that Mrs. +Thompson was writing her letter to Tally-ho, and that the letter would +be posted presently. In about an hour or so, out came the little girl +again, with the letter in her hand. I went up, and said something to the +child, whatever it might have been; but I couldn’t see the direction of +the letter, because she held it with the seal upwards. However, I +observed that on the back of the letter there was what we call a kiss—a +drop of wax by the side of the seal—and again, you understand, that was +enough for me. I saw her post the letter, waited till she was gone, then +went into the shop, and asked to see the Master. When he came out, I +told him, ‘Now, I’m an Officer in the Detective Force; there’s a letter +with a kiss been posted here just now, for a man that I’m in search of; +and what I have to ask of you, is, that you will let me look at the +direction of that letter.’ He was very civil—took a lot of letters from +the box in the window—shook ’em out on the counter with the faces +downwards—and there among ’em was the identical letter with the kiss. It +was directed, Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post-Office, B——, to be left ’till +called for. Down I went to B—— (a hundred and twenty miles or so) that +night. Early next morning I went to the Post-Office; saw the gentleman +in charge of that department; told him who I was; and that my object was +to see, and track, the party that should come for the letter for Mr. +Thomas Pigeon. He was very polite, and said, ‘You shall have every +assistance we can give you; you can wait inside the office; and we’ll +take care to let you know when anybody comes for the letter.’ Well, I +waited there, three days, and began to think that nobody ever _would_ +come. At last the clerk whispered to me, ‘Here! Detective! Somebody’s +come for the letter!’ ‘Keep him a minute,’ said I, and I ran round to +the outside of the office. There I saw a young chap with the appearance +of an Ostler, holding a horse by the bridle—stretching the bridle across +the pavement, while he waited at the Post-Office Window for the letter. +I began to pat the horse, and that; and I said to the boy, ‘Why, this is +Mr. Jones’s Mare!’ ‘No. It an’t.’ ‘No?’ said I. ‘She’s very like Mr. +Jones’s Mare!’ ‘She an’t Mr. Jones’s Mare, anyhow,’ says he. ‘It’s Mr. +So-and-So’s, of the Warwick Arms.’ And up he jumped, and off he +went—letter and all. I got a cab, followed on the box, and was so quick +after him that I came into the stable-yard of the Warwick Arms, by one +gate, just as he came in by another. I went into the bar, where there +was a young woman serving, and called for a glass of brandy-and-water. +He came in directly, and handed her the letter. She casually looked at +it, without saying anything, and stuck it up behind the glass over the +chimney-piece. What was to be done next? + +“I turned it over in my mind while I drank my brandy-and-water (looking +pretty sharp at the letter the while), but I couldn’t see my way out of +it at all. I tried to get lodgings in the house, but there had been a +horse-fair, or something of that sort, and it was full. I was obliged to +put up somewhere else, but I came backwards and forwards to the bar for +a couple of days, and there was the letter, always behind the glass. At +last I thought I’d write a letter to Mr. Pigeon myself, and see what +that would do. So I wrote one, and posted it, but I purposely addressed +it, Mr. John Pigeon, instead of Mr. Thomas Pigeon, to see what _that_ +would do. In the morning (a very wet morning it was) I watched the +postman down the street, and cut into the bar, just before he reached +the Warwick Arms. In he came presently with my letter. ‘Is there a Mr. +John Pigeon staying here?’ ‘No!—stop a bit though,’ says the barmaid; +and she took down the letter behind the glass. ‘No,’ says she, ‘it’s +Thomas, and _he_ is not staying here. Would you do me a favor, and post +this for me, as it is so wet?’ The postman said Yes; she folded it in +another envelope, directed it, and gave it him. He put it in his hat, +and away he went. + +“I had no difficulty in finding out the direction of that letter. It was +addressed, Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post-Office, R——, Northamptonshire, to be +left till called for. Off I started directly for R——; I said the same at +the Post-Office there, as I had said at B——; and again I waited three +days before anybody came. At last another chap on horseback came. ‘Any +letters for Mr. Thomas Pigeon?’ ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘New Inn, near +R——.’ He got the letter, and away _he_ went—at a canter. + +“I made my enquiries about the New Inn, near R——, and hearing it was a +solitary sort of house, a little in the horse line, about a couple of +miles from the station, I thought I’d go and have a look at it. I found +it what it had been described, and sauntered in, to look about me. The +landlady was in the bar, and I was trying to get into conversation with +her; asked her how business was, and spoke about the wet weather, and so +on; when I saw, through an open door, three men sitting by the fire in a +sort of parlor, or kitchen; and one of those men, according to the +description I had of him, was Tally-ho Thompson! + +“I went and sat down among ’em, and tried to make things agreeable; but +they were very shy—wouldn’t talk at all—looked at me, and at one +another, in a way quite the reverse of sociable. I reckoned ’em up, and +finding that they were all three bigger men than me, and considering +that their looks were ugly—that it was a lonely place—railroad station +two miles off—and night coming on—thought I couldn’t do better than have +a drop of brandy-and-water to keep my courage up. So I called for my +brandy-and-water; and as I was sitting drinking it by the fire, Thompson +got up and went out. + +“Now the difficulty of it was, that I wasn’t sure it _was_ Thompson, +because I had never set eyes on him before; and what I had wanted was to +be quite certain of him. However, there was nothing for it now, but to +follow, and put a bold face upon it. I found him talking, outside in the +yard, with the landlady. It turned out afterwards, that he was wanted by +a Northampton officer for something else, and that, knowing that officer +to be pock-marked (as I am myself), he mistook me for him. As I have +observed, I found him talking to the landlady, outside. I put my hand +upon his shoulder—this way—and said, ‘Tally-ho Thompson, it’s no use. I +know you. I’m an officer from London, and I take you into custody for +felony!’ ‘That be d—d!’ says Tally-ho Thompson. + +“We went back into the house, and the two friends began to cut up rough, +and their looks didn’t please me at all, I assure you. ‘Let the man go. +What are you going to do with him?’ ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do +with him. I’m going to take him to London to-night, as sure as I’m +alive. I’m not alone here, whatever you may think. You mind your own +business, and keep yourselves to yourselves. It’ll be better for you, +for I know you both very well.’ _I_‘d never seen or heard of ’em in all +my life, but my bouncing cowed ’em a bit, and they kept off, while +Thompson was making ready to go. I thought to myself, however, that they +might be coming after me on the dark road, to rescue Thompson; so I said +to the landlady, ‘What men have you got in the house, Missis?’ ‘We +haven’t got no men here,’ she says, sulkily. ‘You have got an ostler, I +suppose?’ ‘Yes, we’ve got an ostler.’ ‘Let me see him.’ Presently he +came, and a shaggy-headed young fellow he was. ‘Now attend to me, young +man,’ says I; ‘I’m a Detective Officer from London. This man’s name is +Thompson. I have taken him into custody for felony. I’m going to take +him to the railroad station. I call upon you in the Queen’s name to +assist me; and mind you, my friend, you’ll get yourself into more +trouble than you know of, if you don’t!’ You never saw a person open his +eyes so wide. ‘Now, Thompson, come along!’ says I. But when I took out +the handcuffs, Thompson cries, ‘No! None of that! I won’t stand _them_! +I’ll go along with you quiet, but I won’t bear none of that!’ ‘Tally-ho +Thompson,’ I said, ‘I’m willing to behave as a man to you, if you are +willing to behave as a man to me. Give me your word that you’ll come +peaceably along, and I don’t want to handcuff you.’ ‘I will,’ says +Thompson, ‘but I’ll have a glass of brandy first.’ ‘I don’t care if I’ve +another,’ said I. ‘We’ll have two more, Missis,’ said the friends, ‘and +con-found you, Constable, you’ll give your man a drop, won’t you?’ I was +agreeable to that, so we had it all round, and then my man and I took +Tally-ho Thompson safe to the railroad, and I carried him to London that +night. He was afterwards acquitted, on account of a defect in the +evidence; and I understand he always praises me up to the skies, and +says I’m one of the best of men.” + +This story coming to a termination amidst general applause, Inspector +Wield, after a little grave smoking, fixes his eye on his host, and thus +delivers himself: + +“It wasn’t a bad plant that of mine, on Fikey, the man accused of +forging the Sou’ Western Railway debentures—it was only t’other +day—because the reason why? I’ll tell you. + +“I had information that Fikey and his brother kept a factory over yonder +there,” indicating any region on the Surrey side of the river, “where he +bought second-hand carriages; so after I’d tried in vain to get hold of +him by other means, I wrote him a letter in an assumed name, saying that +I’d got a horse and shay to dispose of, and would drive down next day, +that he might view the lot, and make an offer—very reasonable it was, I +said—a reg’lar bargain. Straw and me then went off to a friend of mine +that’s in the livery and job business, and hired a turn-out for the day, +a precious smart turn-out, it was—quite a slap-up thing! Down we drove, +accordingly, with a friend (who’s not in the Force himself); and leaving +my friend in the shay near a public-house, to take care of the horse, we +went to the factory, which was some little way off. In the factory, +there was a number of strong fellows at work, and after reckoning ’em +up, it was clear to me that it wouldn’t do to try it on there. They were +too many for us. We must get our man out of doors. ‘Mr. Fikey at home?’ +‘No, he ain’t.’ ‘Expected home soon?’ ‘Why, no, not soon.’ ‘Ah! is his +brother here?’ ‘_I_’m his brother.’ ‘Oh! well, this is an +ill-conwenience, this is. I wrote him a letter yesterday, saying I’d got +a little turn-out to dispose of, and I’ve took the trouble to bring the +turn-out down, a’ purpose, and now he ain’t in the way.’ ‘No, he an’t in +the way. You couldn’t make it convenient to call again, could you?’ +‘Why, no, I couldn’t. I want to sell; that’s the fact; and I can’t put +it off. Could you find him anywheres?’ At first he said No, he couldn’t, +and then he wasn’t sure about it, and then he’d go and try. So, at last +he went up-stairs, where there was a sort of loft, and presently down +comes my man himself, in his shirt sleeves. + +“‘Well,’ he says, ‘this seems to be rayther a pressing matter of yours.’ +‘Yes,’ I says, ‘it _is_ rayther a pressing matter, and you’ll find it a +bargain—dirt-cheap.’ ‘I ain’t in partickler want of a bargain just now,’ +he says, ‘but where is it!’ ‘Why,’ I says, ‘the turn-out’s just outside. +Come and look at it.’ He hasn’t any suspicions, and away we go. And the +first thing that happens is, that the horse runs away with my friend +(who knows no more of driving than a child) when he takes a little trot +along the road to show his paces. You never saw such a game in your +life! + +“When the bolt is over, and the turn-out has come to a stand-still +again, Fikey walks round and round it, as grave as a judge—me too. +‘There, Sir!’ I says. ‘There’s a neat thing!’ ‘It an’t a bad style of +thing,’ he says. ‘I believe you,’ says I. ‘And there’s a horse!’—for I +saw him looking at it. ‘Rising eight!’ I says, rubbing his fore-legs. +(Bless you, there an’t a man in the world knows less of horses than I +do, but I’d heard my friend at the Livery Stables say he was eight year +old, so I says, as knowing as possible, ‘Rising Eight.’) ‘Rising eight, +is he?’ says he. ‘Rising eight,’ says I. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘what do you +want for it?’ ‘Why, the first and last figure for the whole concern is +five-and-twenty pound!’ ‘That’s very cheap!’ he says, looking at me. +‘An’t it?’ I says. ‘I told you it was a bargain! Now, without any +higgling and haggling about it, what I want is to sell, and that’s my +price. Further, I’ll make it easy to you, and take half the money down, +and you can do a bit of stiff[1] for the balance.’ ‘Well,’ he says +again, ‘that’s very cheap.’ ‘I believe you,’ says I; ‘get in and try it, +and you’ll buy it. Come! take a trial!’ + +Footnote 1: + + Give a bill. + +“Ecod, he gets in, and we get in, and we drive along the road, to show +him to one of the railway clerks that was hid in the public-house window +to identify him. But the clerk was bothered, and didn’t know whether it +was him, or wasn’t—because the reason why? I’ll tell you,—on account of +his having shaved his whiskers. ‘It’s a clever little horse,’ he says, +‘and trots well; and the shay runs light.’ ‘Not a doubt about it,’ I +says. ‘And now, Mr. Fikey, I may as well make it all right, without +wasting any more of your time. The fact is, I’m Inspector Wield, and +you’re my prisoner.’ ‘You don’t mean that?’ he says. ‘I do, indeed.’ +‘Then burn my body,’ says Fikey, ‘if this ain’t _too_ bad!’ + +“Perhaps you never saw a man so knocked over with surprise. ‘I hope +you’ll let me have my coat?’ he says. ‘By all means.’ ‘Well, then, let’s +drive to the factory.’ ‘Why, not exactly that, I think,’ said I; ‘I’ve +been there, once before, to-day. Suppose we send for it,’ He saw it was +no go, so he sent for it, and put it on, and we drove him up to London, +comfortable.” + +This reminiscence is in the height of its success, when a general +proposal is made to the fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with +the strange air of simplicity, to tell the “Butcher’s story.” But we +must reserve the Butcher’s story, together with another not less curious +in its way, for a concluding paper. + + + + + “SWINGING THE SHIP.” + A VISIT TO THE COMPASS OBSERVATORY. + + +The noble ship with her floating battery of heavy guns, her hundreds of +seamen, smart and brave, her powder, shot, and shell for destroying an +enemy, and her tons of provender to supply her crew; with her anxious +captain and aspiring lieutenants, mates, middys, warrant officers, and +her pipeclayed marines are on board. The long pennon whips the winds; +the hurry, bustle, and noise of preparation has subsided into the +quietude of everything in its place; when the word passes that she is +“Ready for Sea.” + +Next morning the newspapers find just a line and a half in their naval +corner for the announcement,—“Her Majesty’s ship Unutterable, 120 guns, +went out of harbour yesterday. After she has been swung, and had her +compasses adjusted, she will sail for the Pacific.” + +“_Swing_ a hundred and twenty gun ship?” says the good citizen +interrogatively to himself, as he devours his coffee and his newspaper +at breakfast. He pays his taxes and is proud of Britannia and the +British navy, but his admiration of the nautical does not help him to a +solution. “After she has been swung!” he repeats, and then more +immediate affairs draw off his attention, and he leaves the Unutterable +to undergo the mysterious. He turns to the debates. + +Naval officers are of course more wise on the point, and some of them +have more knowledge of the operation than liking for it. It’s apt to +spoil the paint now and then, and gives trouble, and upsets some of +their arrangements. Many, it must be confessed, have more experience +than science in their composition, and when they let out their true +feeling, indulge, perhaps, in a half growl, in which the words +“new-fangled” and “deal of trouble” might be heard. But the operation +goes on nevertheless, and little doubt but the toil is forgotten and the +growl repented when—far, far at sea, a murky sky shuts out the sun and +the stars, and forbids heaven to tell the navigator where he is—with a +waste of waters, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles around him, he has +nought but his figures and his little trembling needles of magnetised +iron to guide him on his way; to direct him wide of the sunken rock and +the sandy shoal as he nears the wished-for coast. + +The loss of British ships by wreck has been stated at between five and +six hundred in a year—or about “a ship and a half-a-day.” This terrible +loss has been ascribed to many causes—to the tides and currents of the +ocean; to imperfect logs; inaccurate charts; unsteady steerage; +inattention to the lead; stress of weather; defective ships, and +defective management; but last, if not greatest, says Captain Johnson, +who gives this catalogue of sources of disaster, we have the errors of +the compass. These errors were noticed—now nearly a couple of centuries +ago, and from those days to the present time careful mariners have often +called attention to the subject. “Officers in charge of convoys during +the war,” continues Captain Johnson, “will probably remember the care +with which the general signal was displayed at sunset, to steer a given +course during the night,” with what alacrity that signal was repeated by +the ships of war in their stations, and answered by every +merchant-vessel in the fleet; and they will also possibly remember with +what surprise,—nay, indignation,—they observed when daylight came, +almost the entire convoy dispersed over the ocean as far as the eye +could reach, and mayhap a suspicious looking stranger or two escorting +those farthest away, further astray, in despite of all the shots fired +during a morning watch to recall them. That such dispersements were in +part attributable to the differences of the compasses in each ship, +there can be no doubt; but the greatest delinquents in this particular, +in all probability, were not the merchant vessels, but rather the ships +of war; _the attractive power of their guns upon the compasses_ being +now a well-known and constantly proved fact. + +The Apollo frigate, and forty merchantmen of her convoy, in 1803 were +wrecked together on the coast of Portugal, when they believed themselves +to be two hundred miles to the westward. The error of the frigate’s +compasses is believed to have been the cause of the disaster; and a +similar belief exists with respect to the dreadful wrecks of our line of +battle ships on the coasts of Jutland and Holland in 1811. The wreck of +the Reliance, Indiaman, on the coast of France, when one hundred and +nine lives were lost, in 1842, is another painful accident ascribed to +errors of the compasses induced by the presence on board of a large iron +tank forty-six feet long, the attraction of which had been +overlooked—for a hollow tank has a magnetic influence as great as a +solid mass of the same external dimensions—and such a mass would weigh +four hundred and sixty-eight tons. + +These errors in the needle that guides the ship, so dangerous in their +results, at last attracted official attention in England. Inquiries were +extended in various directions, and it was found that “in some ships the +deviation was small; in others it was large enough to cause the loss of +a ship, even during a short run; whilst in others, again, from the +position of some iron stancheon, bolt or bar, or stand of arms, the +error might be changed in the opposite direction; so that the deviation +in one vessel was not a guide to its amount or direction in another; and +that there was no other remedy but ascertaining the fact by direct +experiment in each ship.” These facts were recognised by a committee of +English officers, appointed to investigate the matter, one of whom was +the Captain Johnson whom we have already quoted, and of whose subsequent +labours we shall have further presently to speak. + +With these words of explanatory preface, let us set out on a visit to +the establishment where the dangers of those afloat are sought to be +lessened by scientific investigations on shore. + +About two miles and a half eastwards from the Greenwich Observatory, in +the picturesque parish of Charlton, and on the extreme corner of the +high land that runs from Blackheath, till it juts out close upon the +banks of the Thames—stands the building we are in search of. Those who +may try to discover it will probably find some little difficulty in the +task, for the place is unpretending in outward aspect, and is little +known in the neighbourhood; has never before been publicly +described—except, perhaps, in those unread publications called Blue +Books, and in the technical volume of the naval officer who has charge +of this sanctum of science. + +It is called the Compass Observatory; and its locality may probably be +more completely indicated by saying that it is not very distant from, +though on a far higher level than that corner of the Woolwich Dockyard +whence the great chimney soars up like a rival monument to that on Fish +Street Hill, and where the engine that sets the Dockyard Machines in +motion hums like a bee of forty-horse power. When the place is reached, +those who expect to see “a public building,” will be disappointed; those +who like to find that Science may abide in small and humble places, will +be pleased. A long strip of newly-reclaimed land, a detached brick +house, and in its rear, an octagonal wooden structure of little greater +outward pretensions than a citizen’s “summer house,” make up the whole +establishment. + +Passing under the pleasant shade of two fine oak trees, and then between +a collection of very promising roses, we enter the house. Once inside, +we see that the spirit of order, regularity, and neatness, is there +paramount. The exactitude requisite for scientific observation, gives a +habit of exactness in other things. In one room we perceive a galvanic +battery ready for experiments; a disc of iron for showing a now defunct +mode of steadying the vibrations of the compass; a specimen of the mixed +iron and wood braced together as they are now employed in the +construction of first-class ships of the Royal Navy, like the Queen’s +Yacht; and more, interesting than all the rest, a copper bowl, contrived +by Arago, for stilling the irritability (so to speak) of the magnetic +needle. + +The French astronomer and ex-minister of the Provisional Government here +claims our admiration of his scientific skill, and his work suggests the +reflexion how much more pleasant the calm pursuit of nature’s laws must +be to such a man, than the turbulent effort to enact rules and +constitutions for an impetuous and changeable people. Passing from this +room to another, we find books, and charts, and maps, on which are laid +down the magnetic currents over the great oceans, and amongst its +instrumental relics, a magnetic needle that belonged to poor Captain +Cook. It is a plain small bar of steel in a rough wooden case, but to +the mariner who loves his craft and its heroes, this morsel of iron has +an interest greater than the most perfect of nautical inventions—for +Cook was a seaman who achieved great ends with humble means and from +humble beginnings. A third room is full of compasses of all sorts, +sizes, and kinds, from China, from Denmark, from France; from the most +rude and simple, to the most complex and finished. All the schemes and +plans ever proposed for improving this useful invention are here +preserved. Many of the contrivances have been discovered more than once. +A sanguine theorist completes what to him is perfectly new. Certain that +he is to be immortalised and enriched, he sets off to the Observatory +with his treasure, to reveal his grand secret, and receive the +anticipated reward. He is shown into the compass-room, and there,—horror +of horrors,—upon the table, amidst a host of others, there is an old +discarded instrument the very counterpart of his own! It was made, and +tried, and discarded, years ago. + +From the main brick building we pass through another line of roses, and +under a bower, boasting some fifty different varieties of that charming +flower, to the wooden structure in the rear, which is, in fact, the +Observatory. + +This building is entirely free from iron. It is approached by stone +steps; the door has a pure copper lock, which being opened by a copper +key, swings on copper hinges to admit the visitor after he has first +cleared the dirt from his shoes upon a copper scraper. Nearly facing the +door is a stove to keep up the temperature in cold weather. It looks +black enough, and has a black funnel. When the visitor is told that +Captain Johnson has his coat-buttons carefully made without any iron +shank concealed under their silken cover; and that his assistant, Mr. +Brunton, repudiates buttons to his jacket altogether, and has pockets +guiltless of a knife; he is apt to turn to the stove, and hint the +presence there of the forbidden metal. + +“Ah, ah!” is the reply, it looks like iron sure enough; but the +fireplace, the chimney, the poker, the shovel, are all alike. Nothing +but copper, copper, pure copper. This suggests an anecdote. When the +operations in this Compass Observatory were first commenced, there was +found to be a small variation in the magnet. The instruments were +readjusted; their character was investigated, their construction +re-examined; other observations were made—but still the variation +continued. Pockets were searched for knives; the garden looked over to +see that no stray spade or rake had been left outside the building, yet +near enough for mischief. Nothing could be discovered. At length the +_brass_ bolt on the window was suspected; and though brass had a good +character, not being thought capable of coaxing the magnet from its +truth, it was, in despair of finding any other delinquent, unscrewed +from its position. No sooner was this done, than the wayward needle +returned to its true position; the brass bolt was ejected in disgrace, +and no morsel of the brazen metal has since been allowed to show itself +within the precincts of the building sacred to the mysterious fluid that +draws the iron needle to the North. + +Once inside the Observatory, the first impression is one of isolation +and quietude. Look up to the wooden roof, and you see two shutters, to +be opened when an observation is to be made upon a star. Through the +floor rise three pedestals of masonry, built solidly from the earth, and +isolated from the Observatory floor, so that no vibration may be +communicated to them. All three stand in a row, running north and south. +The object of two of them is to support with complete steadiness and +truth two instruments for determining, at any moment of time, the exact +magnetic north, whilst the third pedestal holds one by one the compasses +brought there to be tested. The most northern of these three narrow +stone tables is, in fact, a bed of trial—a place of ordeal—whilst the +other two support the instrumental judges, who are to pass sentence upon +the fluttering needles brought under their unyielding gaze. The test is +a severe one. It is easy, with proper means, to get the true magnetic +north with a fixed instrument on shore, but to make something that shall +tell it with equal truth upon the deck of a ship, as it heaves and +tosses, and plunges on the sea, is a very different thing. Yet, +instruments equal to such triumphs of skill are obtained, and in this +place it is that their qualities are first investigated. The south +pedestal has upon it a tall tube of glass, within which there hang some +long fibres of untwisted silk, supporting a magnetic tube so beautifully +poised, that it obeys without let or hindrance its natural tendency +towards the magnetic north. This tubular magnet has at one end a glass +on which a scale and figures are engraved, but so fine and small as to +be with difficulty seen by the naked eye. The second pedestal supports a +telescope, with which the observer looks down the tubular throat of the +magnet towards this tiny scale on the glass at its extremity. Our +friends, the “spiders,” have contributed some lines to the telescope, +and the centre one of these crosses the exact figure showing the +magnetic position at the moment. + +With this figure in his mind, the telescope and the observer’s eye are +poised in the opposite direction, through the window of the Observatory, +towards a spot some half mile to the north, called Cox’s Mount; an +eminence on which a wall has been raised to bear a numbered scale +similar to that on the magnet—with this difference—that the one is very +minute, and the other very large. To the corresponding figure on the +distant wall the instrument is directed, and being thus pointed towards +the true magnetic north, it is brought to bear upon the pivot of the +compass—which by this time occupies a place on the top of the third +pedestal to be tested. Without a complex description, and the free use +of scientific terms, it would be perhaps impossible to convey a +thoroughly exact conception of the steps of the whole process. Such a +detail would be not only too technical, but unnecessary, here. It will +be enough in general terms to say, therefore, that the indication +obtained from a star, or from the instrument on the south pedestal, +called the collimator, is, by means of the instrument in the centre, +combined with a mark upon a distant object, and then brought down to +prove the true powers of the compass placed on the third pedestal. It is +a beautifully exact operation. The silence of isolation, the steadiness +of stone tables and practised operators, the most beautifully +constructed instruments, are combined to ensure accurate realities as a +result. The tests are so varied, and so often repeated, that no error +can escape, and the compass, when it leaves the building to begin its +adventures afloat, commences its career with an irreproachable character +as a Standard Compass of the Royal Navy—to be, on board the ship of war +to which it is sent, a kind of master instrument of reference, by which +ruder and cheaper compasses may be checked and regulated. + +Just as the history of the stars and of the variations of the magnet is +registered and posted up at the Greenwich Observatory, so is that of the +compasses entered up here. Every compass that passes its examination may +be said to receive its commission, and be appointed to a ship. Its +number is taken; its vessel and destination are noted, and, +subsequently, its length of service. On its return home from successive +trips, it comes back to this place, when its character is again +investigated and note made of any loss of magnetic power, of any +deviations it may have exhibited, how it may have lost and how gained, +and of any other circumstances showing either improvement or +deterioration. Now and then one is blacklisted, but this seldom happens; +the greatest loss yet noted being 30 minutes. The Standard Compasses +cost, when made new, with tripod and all complete, 25_l._ each. After +they have been some years in service afloat, they are sent into hospital +for overhaul and repair. This costs generally 4_l._ or 5_l._, and they +are then again as good as ever, and ready to guide another ship on her +way over the mighty waters. The scientific part of the fittings of a +ship of war, though of greatest value, are thus of lowest cost. A +Standard Compass is, indeed, a beautiful result of human ingenuity. +Generations of seamen and men of science have discussed the best form +and materials, and the best mode of suspending the needle, that it may +most freely and truly follow its mysterious love for the north. From the +days of the old adventurers round the globe, to the date of the last +voyages to the Arctic regions, successive sea captains have thought, and +watched, and suggested, and the Standard Compass of the English Navy +combines, it is believed, all that is best in all their thinking. After +the Observatory was established, and one of its duties had been defined +to be to pursue investigations on the deviation of the needle, it was +thought desirable to have specimens of the instruments used in the war +ships of other naval nations. With the open liberality that unites in +brotherhood the scientific men of all countries, France and Denmark sent +specimens of what their best men had succeeded in perfecting for the use +of their navies. These instruments are very good, and attract deserved +attention in the observatory-collection of specimens. The Frenchman is +scientific, simple, and with an excellent contrivance for a moveable +agate plane to avoid friction in the motion of the needle. The Dane is a +good substantial instrument, even more excellently finished than the +compasses issued to our navy. + +The English Compass is, however, believed with good reason to be the +best yet contrived. It has grown up to its present excellence by slow +degrees. Human ingenuity has been taxed to its utmost, and it has passed +to its present perfection through the various trials of needles of all +sorts of shapes swung in all sorts of ways, and by springs, and floating +cards, modifying the instrument to the varying conditions of a small +boat tossing on waves, or a line of battle ship jarring under the recoil +of a broadside. And now we find our Compass-needle made of iron that, +being got from the Swedish mines, has travelled to Strasbourg to be +prepared for clock springs; thence to Paris, to be still more highly +wrought by the watchmaker; and then to London, to take its sea-going +shape. Four bars of this choice metal, or of shear-steel of equally fine +quality, are ranged edgewise under a card, thickened and stiffened yet +kept transparent by a sheet of mica, brought from the Russian mines; +this card moves upon a point made of a metal harder than steel, and +incapable of corrosion; and which sometimes, under the name of Iridium, +but more correctly under that of “native alloy,” is found by the +refiners as they smelt the platinum and silver gained from the Ural +Mountains or the mines of Spain. The Iridium or alloy comes to the +workshop in the tiniest of glass bottles—bottles as small round as a +goose-quill, and about an inch long—in morsels not much bigger than a +pin’s head, and weighing each less than half a grain. Some of these +prove too soft, some too spongy, some too brittle, but at last one is +found hard and good, and it is soldered upon the pivot, that, when +sharpened and polished, is to work upon a cap, formed of a ruby, brought +from the East. A bowl of the metal suggested by the French philosopher +being prepared, from the produce of the mines of Cornwall; and the +science of the English philosopher, and the skill of the English +workman, having brought all these things into their proper shape and +places; we have, as the result, the Standard Compass, whose fitness to +guide her Majesty’s ship the Unutterable, we have just seen tested by +Captain Johnson at the Woolwich Compass Observatory. + +Our favourite newspaper has just stated that that gallant ship “is now +at Greenhithe waiting to have her compasses adjusted.” So, then, the +instruments so accurate at the Observatory a few days ago, are all wrong +again on shipboard. Just so. The moment they get to their places afloat, +their fidelity to the north wavers,—in one ship more, in another less; +but in all in a greater or smaller degree in proportion to the quantity +of iron used in the construction of the vessel, and the nearness of that +metal to the compasses; in proportion to the number of the iron guns and +the total weight of metal carried; to the length of the funnel in +steamships, and to the condition of that funnel whether upright or +hauled down. All this is both new and strange enough. We have learnt +already what loss of ships convoyed and ships wrecked has arisen from +these deviations: deviations long neglected on board all vessels and to +this hour unrecognised or unattended to in our mercantile marine! Since +the Royal Navy, however, has a scientific officer, Captain Johnson, +especially employed in attending to the important duty of adjusting the +compasses: let us go with him and his assistant, Mr. Brunton, from the +Compass Observatory to the anchorage at Greenhithe, and see how he will +“swing” the gallant line of battle ship, the Unutterable. + +The trip occupies a very short time, for we have steam at command. +Arrived in the Reach, we find five floating buoys anchored in the +stream, one forming a centre, and four being disposed at equal distances +about it, just as the five pips are placed upon a card—say the five of +spades. The good ship to be operated upon is already fast by the head to +the centre buoy, and Captain Johnson having mounted her deck, and his +assistant, Mr. Brunton, having been rowed ashore, a rope is run out from +the ship’s stern and made fast to one of the corner buoys. The Standard +Compass being fixed in the proper position which it is to occupy in the +ship, neither too high nor too low, and the guns and other iron being +round about it, as they are to remain during the voyage, the mooring +ropes are adjusted, and the ship’s head is put due north. Meanwhile, Mr. +Brunton has set up a compass ashore, and all being ready, Captain +Johnson, at a given moment, observes the bearing of a distant object—the +Tower at Shooter’s Hill—noting the bearing of the needle on board. At +that instant the pennant that floated at the mast-head is hauled down +from the truck. This being the concerted signal, at the same second of +time the assistant ashore observed the needle of his compass. The two +instruments vary, and the deviation of that on board, compared with that +ashore, is due to the iron of the ship. The stern ropes are hauled from +one buoy to another, and again made fast, the ship’s head now pointing +in another direction. The observations and the signals are repeated. +Each deviation of the ship’s compass is carefully noted upon a card +previously prepared for the purpose. The ship’s stern is then hauled +round to the third outside buoy, and the compasses being again examined, +she is next hauled round to the fourth buoy. Her head by this time has +been north, east, south, west; on each point the deviations of her +compasses have been tested, noted, and the card shows their character +and proper adjustment. _The ship has been swung._ Science has done its +best for her, and the word is given to heave anchor, for she is now +truly “Ready for Sea.” + + + + + AN EXPLORING ADVENTURE. + + +The Litany of a Bushman on the Borders might well run, “From native +dogs, from scabby sheep, from blacks, from droughts, from governors’ +proclamations, good Lord, deliver us.” + +The droughts come in their appointed season, and the day will be, when +wells and tanks and aqueducts will redeem many a part from the curse of +periodical barrenness: the blacks soon tame or fade before the white +man’s face; unfortunately the seat of the native dogs, and home-bred or +town-bred governing crotchets are more plentiful in long settled than +new found countries. At any rate, I have experienced them all, and now +give the following passage of my life for the benefit of the gentlemen +“who live at home at ease,” hatching theories for our good—Heaven help +their silliness! + +I had been two years comfortably settled with a nice lot of cattle and +sheep, part my own, part on “thirds,” when the people south of me began +to complain of drought. _I_ had enough feed and water; the question was, +whether it would last. + +I called my bullock-driver, Bald-faced Dick, into consultation. He was +laid up at the time with a broken leg. Dick strongly advised looking for +a new station “to the nor’ard.” + +The sheep would do for months, but he thought we were overstocked with +cattle. I had a good deal of confidence in Dick’s judgment; for he was a +“first fleeter,” that is, came over with Governor Phillips in the first +fleet; had seen everything in the colony, both good and bad; had, it was +whispered, in early years fled from a flogging master, and lived, some +said, with the blacks; others averred with a party of Gully-rakers +(cattle-stealers); he swore horridly, was dangerous when he had drunk +too much rum, but was a thorough Bushman; by the stars, or by sun, and +the fall of the land, could find his way anywhere by day or night, +understood all kinds of stock, and could make bullocks understand him. +He knew every roving character in the colony, the quality of every +station, and more about the far interior than he chose to tell to every +one. With all his coarseness, he was generous and good-natured, and when +well paid, and fairly and strictly treated, stood upon “Bush honour,” +and could be thoroughly depended on. + +Having had an opportunity of serving him in a rather serious matter +previous to his entering my service, I was pretty sure of his best +advice. + +The end of it was, for a promise of five pounds he obtained from a +friend of his a description of a country hitherto unsettled, and +first-rate for cattle. These men, who can neither read nor write, have +often a talent for description, which is astonishing. + +Having heard a minute detail of the “pack,” and studied a sort of map +drawn on the lid of a tea-chest with a burned stick, I decided on +exploring with my overseer, Jem Carden, and, if successful, returning +for the cattle and drags, all loaded for founding a station. + +We only took our guns and tomahawks, with tea, sugar, a salt tongue, and +small damper ready baked, being determined to make long marches, +starting early, camping at mid-day, and marching again in the evening as +long as it was light. + +Our first stage was only twenty-five miles to young Marson’s +cattle-station. Marson was a cadet, of a noble family, and having been +too fast at home and in India as a cavalry subaltern, had been sent out +with a fair capital to Australia, under the idea that a fortune was to +be had for asking, and no means of expense open in the Bush. What money +he did not leave in the bars and billiard rooms of Sydney, he invested +in a herd of six hundred cattle; to look after these, he had four men, +whom he engaged, one because he could fight, another because he could +sing, and all because they flattered him. With these fellows he lived +upon terms of perfect equality, with a keg of rum continually on the +tap. Then, for want of better society, he made his hut the rendezvous of +a tribe of tame blacks. + +We found him sitting on the floor in a pair of trowsers and ragged +shirt, unwashed, uncombed, pale-faced and red-eyed, surrounded by +half-a-dozen black gins (his sultanas), a lot of dogs, poultry, a tame +kangaroo, and two of his men. The floor was littered with quart pots, +lumps of fat, and damper outside the hut; the relations of the black +ladies had made a fire, and were cooking a piece of a fine young heifer. +What with the jabbering of the gins, the singing and swearing of the +men, and the yelping of the dogs, it was no place for a quiet meal, so +we only stayed long enough to drink a pot of tea, so as not to offend, +and passed on to camp an hour under the shade of a thicket near the +river. + +Marson having, with the assistance of his black friends, consumed all +his stock, has returned home; and, I hear, asserts everywhere that +Australia is not a country a gentleman can live in. + +Our course next, after crossing the dividing range, lay over a very flat +country, all burned up as far as the eye could reach,—a perfect desert +of sand. The chain of pools which formed the river after rain, were +nearly choked up by the putrifying carcases of cattle, smothered in +fighting for water. The air was poisonous; the horses sank fetlock-deep +at every stride; the blazing sun was reflected back from the hot sand +with an intensity that almost blinded our half-shut eyes. After three +hours of this misery, we struck into a better country, and soon after +came up to the camp of a squatter, who had been forced forward by the +drought. He had marked out about twenty miles along the river for his +run,—a pretty good slice, I thought, when, before turning back, he said, +“That is all I want.” It was no business of ours, as we had views +further a-field. For three days we pushed on, making from thirty to +forty miles a day, without seeing anything exactly to our mind. We rode +over arid plains, dotted with scrubby brushwood, then up precipitous +hills; now leaping, now clambering down and up, and now riding round to +avoid dry gullies and ravines; passing occasionally breaks of green +pasture, but insufficiently watered for my purpose. Sometimes our way +lay along mountain sides, sometimes in the dry bed of a torrent. +Sometimes huge boulders interrupted our course, sometimes the gigantic +trunks of fallen trees. More than once we had to steer through a forest +of the monotonous, shadeless gum, with its lofty, dazzlingly white +trunks festooned with the brown, curly bark of the previous year, and +its parasol-like but shadeless branches, where crimson, green, and snowy +parrot tribes shrieked and whistled among the evergreen leaves. It is +impossible to conceive anything more gorgeous than these birds as they +fluttered in the sun; but I confess that, “on serious thoughts intent,” +during this journey, they were more often associated with my ideas of +supper than anything else. + +The evening of the third day, we found ourselves obliged to camp down +with a scanty supply of brackish water, and no signs of any living +thing. The next day was worse; a land of silence and desolation, where +it seemed as if mountains had been crumbled up and scattered about in +hills and lumps. The dry earth cracked and yawned in all directions. +Failing to find water, we camped down, parched, weary, silent, but not +despairing. + +The next morning the horses were gone. + +I cannot find words to describe what we suffered in the subsequent +twelve hours. I had walked until my feet were one mass of blisters, and +was ready to lie down and die ten times in the day; but somehow I found +strength to walk, always chewing a bullet. At length, at nightfall, we +found our horses; and, nearly at the same time, to crown our +delight—water. At the sight of this, we both involuntarily sank down on +our knees to return thanks for life saved. + +The next morning, after a scanty breakfast, we set to work, and by dint +of cutting away with axe and jack-knife, at the expense of clothes and +skin, through a brigalow scrub for half a mile, found our way into a gap +through which our track lay, and which we had missed. It led straight to +the dividing range. + +After crossing five miles from the foot of the range, through a barren +tract, our eyes and hearts were suddenly rejoiced by the sight of the +wished-for land. + +A plain, covered with fine green barley-grass, as high as our horses’ +heads, and sprinkled over with the myal shrub, which cattle and sheep +will eat and thrive on, even without grass. Such was the delicious +prospect before us. A flood had evidently but lately subsided, for +lagoons full of water were scattered all about; a river running at the +rate of five miles an hour, serpentined as far as the eye could see, +from which the water-fowl fluttered up as we passed; the eagle hawks +were sweeping along after flocks of quail, and mobs of kangaroos hopping +about like huge rabbits. There was not a sign of horn or hoof anywhere, +but it was evident the aborigines were numerous, for there were paths +worn down where they had been in the habit of travelling, from one angle +of the river to another; we could trace their footmarks and of all +sizes, and thereupon we unslung our guns and looked at the priming. +Altogether I thought I had discovered the finest place for a +cattle-station in the colony; I found out afterwards that the first +appearance of a new country before it has been stocked is not to be +depended on. + +We formed a camp in an angle of the river, so as to have protection on +three sides, ventured, in spite of the danger, to light a fire and cook +some game. Oh, how delicious was that meal! As I lay near the river’s +edge, peeping through the tall grass, I saw the horrid emus, that rare +and soon to be extinct bird, come down the slopes on the opposite side +to drink in numbers; a sure sign that white men were as yet strangers to +these plains. + +We spent some days in examination, and during the exploration met with +adventures with the aborigines, I will not now relate. Having marked a +station with my initials, and in returning made out a route practicable +for drays, by which I afterwards made my way with a large herd of +cattle, although not without enduring more than I could tell in a few +lines. + +Our horses having picked up their flesh in a fortnight’s spell on the +green plains, we got back at a rattling pace, but, before arriving home, +met with an adventure I shall not soon forget. It was at the first +station we reached after crossing the “barrens” that divided our newly +discovered country. A hut had just been built for the Stockman, a big +strong Irishman, more than six feet high, a regular specimen of a +Tipperary chicken. He had been entertaining us with characteristic +hospitality; and we were smoking our pipes round the fire, when the +hut-keeper rushed in without his hat, crying— + +“Tom! Tom! the blacks are coming down on us, all armed, as hard as they +can run. Shut the door! for Heaven’s sake shut the door!” Tom banged it +to, and put his shoulder against it, while the keeper was pulling up the +bar, and Carden and I were getting the lock-cases off our fire-arms. +Unfortunately the door was made roughly of green wood, and had shrunk, +leaving gaps between the slabs. + +In the mean time about thirty blacks hurled a volley of spears that made +the walls ring again; and then advancing boldly up, one of them thrust a +double-jagged spear through the door, slap into Tom’s throat. My back +was turned towards him, being busy putting a fresh cap on my carbine. I +heard his cry, and, turning, saw him fall into the arms of the +hut-keeper. I thrust the barrel of my piece through a hole against a +black devil, and fired at the same moment that my man did. The two +dropped; the rest retreated, but turned back, and caught up their dead +friends. Carden flung open the door again, and gave them the contents of +his other barrel. My black put the hut-keeper’s musket into my hand; I +gave them a charge of buckshot. Three more fell, and the rest, dropping +their friends, disappeared across the river. All this was the work of a +moment. We then turned our attention to the stock-keeper. The spear had +entered at the chin, and come out on the other side three or four +inches. There was not a great flow of blood, but he was evidently +bleeding inwardly. He was perfectly collected, and said he was quite +sure he should die. + +We cut the end of the spear short off, but did not dare to take it out. +The hut-keeper got on a horse, leading another, and rode for a doctor +who lived one hundred and fifty miles off; he never stopped except to +give the horses a feed two or three times in the whole distance, but +when he reached his journey’s end, the doctor was out. In the mean time +poor Tom made his will, disposing of a few head of cattle, mare and +foal, and also signed a sort of dying testament to the effect that he +had never wronged any of the blacks in any way. The weather was very +hot, mortification came on, and he died in agony two days after +receiving his wound. + +The outrage was reported to the Commissioner, but no notice was taken of +it although we were paying a tax for Border Police at the time. + +Not many years have elapsed since we fought for our lives—since I read +the burial service over the poor murdered Stockman. A handsome +verandah’d villa now stands in the place of the slab hut; yellow corn +waves over the Irishman’s grave, and while cattle and sheep abound, as +well white men, women, and children, there is not a wild black within +two hundred miles. + + + + + THE BIRTH OF MORNING. + + + Pure, calm, diffused, the twilight of the morn + Is in the glen, among the dewy leaves. + Its gentle radiance, more heavenly-born + Than the half-loving sunbeam, never grieves + A nook, unvisited. This Earth receives + The light which makes no shade, as the caress + Of God on his creation, and upheaves + Her soft face, innocent with peace, to bless, + Babe-like, his watchful eye with waking tenderness. + + A gate admits us to the Hill we seek; + Through woods a track upon the turf we find; + The trees are dripping dew, their tall stems creak + And rub together when the morning wind + Lightly caresses them. We pause to mind + The note of one awakened bird, whose cry, + Quaint and repeated, is not like its kind. + Our ears are ignorant. Now up the high + And mossy slope we climb, beneath an open sky. + + We reach the summit. Earth is in a dream + Of misty seas, and islands strangely born— + The unreal, from reality. The stream + Of wraith-like sights which, ere he can be torn + From peaceful sleep, delights the travel-worn + At slumber’s painted gate, is not more wild + Than the imagining of Earth when Morn + Bids her awaken. So a dreaming child + Looks through white angel wings, and sees all undefiled. + + The blessed dream-land fancy of the young, + More truthful than the reasoning of age, + Is like this vision of the morning, sprung + Of earth and air. These lines upon the page + Of Nature have life in them. They assuage + The fevers of the world, they are the dew + Of calm,—and God is calm. How mortals wage + Their wars of weakness Light reveals to view; + Reason fights through the false, but Fancy feels the true. + + + + + AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY. + + +In one of the dirtiest and most gloomy streets leading to the Rue Saint +Denis, in Paris, there stands a tall and ancient house, the lower +portion of which is a large mercer’s shop. This establishment is held to +be one of the very best in the neighbourhood, and has for many years +belonged to an individual on whom we will bestow the name of Ramin. + +About ten years ago, Monsieur Ramin was a jovial red-faced man of forty, +who joked his customers into purchasing his goods, flattered the pretty +_grisettes_ outrageously, and now and then gave them a Sunday treat at +the barrier, as the cheapest way of securing their custom. Some people +thought him a careless, good-natured fellow, and wondered how, with his +off-hand ways, he contrived to make money so fast, but those who knew +him well saw that he was one of those who “never lost an opportunity.” +Others declared that Monsieur Ramin’s own definition of his character +was, that he was a “_bon enfant_,” and that “it was all luck.” He +shrugged his shoulders and laughed when people hinted at his deep +scheming in making, and his skill in taking advantage of Excellent +Opportunities. + +He was sitting in his gloomy parlour one fine morning in Spring, +breakfasting from a dark liquid honoured with the name of onion soup, +glancing at the newspaper, and keeping a vigilant look on the shop +through the open door, when his old servant Catherine suddenly observed: + +“I suppose you know Monsieur Bonelle has come to live in the vacant +apartment on the fourth floor?” + +“What!” exclaimed Monsieur Ramin in a loud key. + +Catherine repeated her statement, to which her master listened in total +silence. + +“Well!” he said, at length, in his most careless tones; “what about the +old fellow?” and he once more resumed his triple occupation of reading, +eating, and watching. + +“Why,” continued Catherine, “they say he is nearly dying, and that his +housekeeper, Marguerite, vowed he could never get up-stairs alive. It +took two men to carry him up; and when he was at length quiet in bed, +Marguerite went down to the porter’s lodge and sobbed there a whole +hour, saying, Her poor master, had the gout, the rheumatics, and a bad +asthma; that though he had been got up-stairs, he would never come down +again alive; that if she could only get him to confess his sins and make +his will, she would not mind it so much; but that when she spoke of the +lawyer or the priest, he blasphemed at her like a heathen, and declared +he would live to bury her and every body else.” + +Monsieur Ramin heard Catherine with great attention, forgot to finish +his soup, and remained for five minutes in profound rumination, without +so much as perceiving two customers who had entered the shop and were +waiting to be served. When aroused, he was heard to exclaim: + +“What an excellent opportunity!” + +Monsieur Bonelle had been Ramin’s predecessor. The succession of the +latter to the shop was a mystery. No one ever knew how it was that this +young and poor assistant managed to replace his patron. Some said that +he had detected Monsieur Bonelle in frauds which he threatened to +expose, unless the business were given up to him as the price of his +silence; others averred that, having drawn a prize in the lottery, he +had resolved to set up a fierce opposition over the way, and that +Monsieur Bonelle, having obtained a hint of his intentions, had thought +it most prudent to accept the trifling sum his clerk offered, and avoid +a ruinous competition. Some charitable souls—moved no doubt by Monsieur +Bonelle’s misfortune—endeavoured to console and pump him; but all they +could get from him was the bitter exclamation, “To think I should have +been duped by _him_!” For Ramin had the art, though then a mere youth, +to pass himself off on his master as an innocent provincial lad. Those +who sought an explanation from the new mercer, were still more +unsuccessful. “My good old master,” he said in his jovial way, “felt in +need of repose, and so I obligingly relieved him of all business and +botheration.” + +Years passed away; Ramin prospered, and neither thought nor heard of his +“good old master.” The house, of which he tenanted the lower portion, +was offered for sale: he had long coveted it, and had almost concluded +an agreement with the actual owner, when Monsieur Bonelle unexpectedly +stepped in at the eleventh hour, and by offering a trifle more secured +the bargain. The rage and mortification of Monsieur Ramin were extreme. +He could not understand how Bonelle, whom he had thought ruined, had +scraped up so large a sum; his lease was out, and he now felt himself at +the mercy of the man he had so much injured. But either Monsieur Bonelle +was free from vindictive feelings, or those feelings did not blind him +to the expediency of keeping a good tenant; for though he raised the +rent, until Monsieur Ramin groaned inwardly, he did not refuse to renew +the lease. They had met at that period; but never since. + +“Well, Catherine,” observed Monsieur Ramin to his old servant, on the +following morning, “How is that good Monsieur Bonelle getting on?” + +“I dare say you feel very uneasy about him,” she replied with a sneer. + +Monsieur Ramin looked up and frowned. + +“Catherine,” said he, dryly, “you will have the goodness, in the first +place, not to make impertinent remarks; in the second place, you will +oblige me by going up-stairs to inquire after the health of Monsieur +Bonelle, and say that I sent you.” + +Catherine grumbled, and obeyed. Her master was in the shop, when she +returned in a few minutes, and delivered with evident satisfaction the +following gracious message: + +“Monsieur Bonelle desires his compliments to you, and declines to state +how he is; he will also thank you to attend to your own shop, and not to +trouble yourself about his health.” + +“How does he look?” asked Monsieur Ramin with perfect composure. + +“I caught a glimpse of him, and he appears to me to be rapidly preparing +for the good offices of the undertaker.” + +Monsieur Ramin smiled, rubbed his hands, and joked merrily with a +dark-eyed grisette, who was cheapening some ribbon for her cap. That +girl made an excellent bargain that day. + +Towards dusk the mercer left the shop to the care of his attendant, and +softly stole up to the fourth story. In answer to his gentle ring, a +little old woman opened the door, and, giving him a rapid look, said +briefly, + +“Monsieur is inexorable; he won’t see any doctor whatever.” + +She was going to shut the door in his face, when Ramin quickly +interposed, under his breath, with “_I_ am not a doctor.” + +She looked at him from head to foot. + +“Are you a lawyer?” + +“Nothing of the sort, my good lady.” + +“Well then, are you a priest?” + +“I may almost say, quite the reverse.” + +“Indeed you must go away, Master sees no one.” + +Once more she would have shut the door; but Ramin prevented her. + +“My good lady,” said he in his most insinuating tones, “it is true I am +neither a lawyer, a doctor, nor a priest. I am an old friend, a very old +friend of your excellent master; I have come to see good Monsieur +Bonelle in his present affliction.” + +Marguerite did not answer, but allowed him to enter, and closed the door +behind him. He was going to pass from the narrow and gloomy ante-chamber +into an inner room—whence now proceeded a sound of loud coughing—when +the old woman laid her hand on his arm, and raising herself on tiptoe, +to reach his ear, whispered: + +“For Heaven’s sake, Sir, since you are his friend, do talk to him; do +tell him to make his will, and hint something about a soul to be saved, +and all that sort of thing: do, Sir!” + +Monsieur Ramin nodded and winked in a way that said “I will.” He proved +however his prudence by not speaking aloud; for a voice from within +sharply exclaimed, + +“Marguerite, you are talking to some one. Marguerite, I will see neither +doctor nor lawyer; and if any meddling priest dare—” + +“It is only an old friend, Sir;” interrupted Marguerite, opening the +inner door. + +Her master, on looking up, perceived the red face of Monsieur Ramin +peeping over the old woman’s shoulder, and irefully cried out, + +“How dare you bring that fellow here? And you, Sir, how dare you come?” + +“My good old friend, there are feelings,” said Ramin, spreading his +fingers over the left pocket of his waistcoat,—“there are feelings,” he +repeated, “that cannot be subdued. One such feeling brought me here. The +fact is, I am a good-natured easy fellow, and I never bear malice. I +never forget an old friend, but love to forget old differences when I +find one party in affliction.” + +He drew a chair forward as he spoke, and composedly seated himself +opposite to his late master. + +Monsieur Bonelle was a thin old man with a pale sharp face and keen +features. At first he eyed his visitor from the depths of his vast +arm-chair; but, as if not satisfied with this distant view, he bent +forward, and laying both hands on his thin knees, he looked up into +Ramin’s face with a fixed and piercing gaze. He had not, however, the +power of disconcerting his guest. + +“What did you come here for?” he at length asked. + +“Merely to have the extreme satisfaction of seeing how you are, my good +old friend. Nothing more.” + +“Well, look at me—and then go.” + +Nothing could be so discouraging: but this was an Excellent Opportunity, +and when Monsieur Ramin _had_ an excellent opportunity in view, his +pertinacity was invincible. Being now resolved to stay, it was not in +Monsieur Bonelle’s power to banish him. At the same time, he had tact +enough to render his presence agreeable. He knew that his coarse and +boisterous wit had often delighted Monsieur Bonelle of old, and he now +exerted himself so successfully as to betray the old man two or three +times into hearty laughter. + +“Ramin,” said he, at length, laying his thin hand on the arm of his +guest, and peering with his keen glance into the mercer’s purple face, +“you are a funny fellow, but I know you; you cannot make me believe you +have called just to see how I am, and to amuse me. Come, be candid for +once; what do you want?” + +Ramin threw himself back in his chair, and laughed blandly, as much as +to say, “_Can_ you suspect me?” + +“I have no shop now out of which you can wheedle me,” continued the old +man; “and surely you are not such a fool as to come to me for money.” + +“Money?” repeated the draper, as if his host had mentioned something he +never dreamt of. “Oh, no!” + +Ramin saw it would not do to broach the subject he had really come +about, too abruptly, now that suspicion seemed so wide awake—_the_ +opportunity had not arrived. + +“There is something up, Ramin, I know; I see it in the twinkle of your +eye: but you can’t deceive me again.” + +“Deceive _you_?” said the jolly schemer, shaking his head reverentially. +“Deceive a man of your penetration and depth? Impossible! The bare +supposition is flattery. My dear friend,” he continued, soothingly, “I +did not dream of such a thing. The fact is, Bonelle, though they call me +a jovial, careless, rattling dog, I have a conscience; and, somehow, I +have never felt quite easy about the way in which I became your +successor down-stairs. It _was_ rather sharp practice, I admit.” + +Bonelle seemed to relent. + +“Now for it,” said the Opportunity-hunter to himself.—“By-the-by,” +(speaking aloud,) “this house must be a great trouble to you in your +present weak state? Two of your lodgers have lately gone away without +paying—a great nuisance, especially to an invalid.” + +“I tell you I’m as sound as a colt.” + +“At all events, the whole concern must be a great bother to you. If I +were you, I would sell the house.” + +“And if I were _you_,” returned the landlord, dryly, “I would buy it——” + +“Precisely,” interrupted the tenant, eagerly. + +“That is, if you could get it. Phoo! I knew you were after something. +Will you give eighty thousand francs for it?” abruptly asked Monsieur +Bonelle. + +“Eighty thousand francs!” echoed Ramin. “Do you take me for Louis +Philippe or the Bank of France?” + +“Then, we’ll say no more about it—are you not afraid of leaving your +shop so long?” + +Ramin returned to the charge, heedless of the hint to depart. “The fact +is, my good old friend, ready money is not my strong point just now. But +if you wish very much to be relieved of the concern, what say you to a +life annuity? I could manage that.” + +Monsieur Bonelle gave a short, dry, churchyard cough, and looked as if +his life were not worth an hour’s purchase. “You think yourself +immensely clever, I dare say,” he said. “They have persuaded you that I +am dying. Stuff! I shall bury you yet.” + +The mercer glanced at the thin fragile frame, and exclaimed to himself, +“Deluded old gentleman!” “My dear Bonelle,” he continued, aloud, “I know +well the strength of your admirable constitution; but allow me to +observe that you neglect yourself too much. Now, suppose a good sensible +doctor——.” + +“Will you pay him?” interrogated Bonelle sharply. + +“Most willingly,” replied Ramin, with an eagerness that made the old man +smile. “As to the annuity, since the subject annoys you, we will talk of +it some other time.” + +“After you have heard the doctor’s report,” sneered Bonelle. + +The mercer gave him a stealthy glance, which the old man’s keen look +immediately detected. Neither could repress a smile: these good souls +understood one another perfectly, and Ramin saw that this was not the +Excellent Opportunity he desired, and departed. + +The next day Ramin sent a neighbouring medical man, and heard it was his +opinion that if Bonelle held on for three months longer, it would be a +miracle. Delightful news! + +Several days elapsed, and although very anxious, Ramin assumed a +careless air, and did not call upon his landlord, or take any notice of +him. At the end of the week old Marguerite entered the shop to make a +trifling purchase. + +“And how are we getting on up-stairs?” negligently asked Monsieur Ramin. + +“Worse and worse, my good Sir,” she sighed. “We have rheumatic pains, +which make us often use expressions the reverse of Christian-like, and +yet nothing can induce us to see either the lawyer or the priest; the +gout is getting nearer to our stomach every day, and still we go on +talking about the strength of our constitution. Oh, Sir, if you have any +influence with us, do, pray do, tell us how wicked it is to die without +making one’s will or confessing one’s sins.” + +“I shall go up this very evening,” ambiguously replied Monsieur Ramin. + +He kept his promise, and found Monsieur Bonelle in bed, groaning with +pain, and in the worst of tempers. + +“What poisoning doctor did you send?” he asked, with an ireful glance; +“I want no doctor, I am not ill; I will not follow his prescription; he +forbade me to eat; I _will_ eat.” + +“He is a very clever man,” said the visitor. “He told me that never in +the whole course of his experience has he met with what he called so +much ‘resisting power’ as exists in your frame. He asked me if you were +not of a long-lived race.” + +“That is as people may judge,” replied Monsieur Bonelle. “All I can say +is, that my grandfather died at ninety, and my father at eighty-six.” + +“The doctor owned that you had a wonderfully strong constitution.” + +“Who said I hadn’t?” exclaimed the invalid feebly. + +“You may rely on it, you would preserve your health better if you had +not the trouble of these vexatious lodgers. Have you thought about the +life annuity?” said Ramin as carelessly as he could, considering how +near the matter was to his hopes and wishes. + +“Why, I have scruples,” returned Bonelle, coughing. “I do not wish to +take you in. My longevity would be the ruin of you.” + +“To meet that difficulty,” quickly replied the mercer, “we can reduce +the interest.” + +“But I must have high interest,” placidly returned Monsieur Bonelle. + +Ramin, on hearing this, burst into a loud fit of laughter, called +Monsieur Bonelle a sly old fox, gave him a poke in the ribs, which made +the old man cough for five minutes, and then proposed that they should +talk it over some other day. The mercer left Monsieur Bonelle in the act +of protesting that he felt as strong as a man of forty. + +Monsieur Ramin felt in no hurry to conclude the proposed agreement. “The +later one begins to pay, the better,” he said, as he descended the +stairs. + +Days passed on, and the negotiation made no way. It struck the observant +tradesman that all was not right. Old Marguerite several times refused +to admit him, declaring her master was asleep: there was something +mysterious and forbidding in her manner that seemed to Monsieur Ramin +very ominous. At length a sudden thought occurred to him: the +housekeeper—wishing to become her master’s heir—had heard his scheme and +opposed it. On the very day that he arrived at this conclusion, he met a +lawyer, with whom he had formerly had some transactions, coming down the +staircase. The sight sent a chill through the mercer’s commercial heart, +and a presentiment—one of those presentiments that seldom deceive—told +him it was too late. He had, however, the fortitude to abstain from +visiting Monsieur Bonelle until evening came; when he went up, resolved +to see him in spite of all Marguerite might urge. The door was +half-open, and the old housekeeper stood talking on the landing to a +middle-aged man in a dark cassock. + +“It is all over! The old witch has got the priests at him,” thought +Ramin, inwardly groaning at his own folly in allowing himself to be +forestalled. + +“You cannot see Monsieur to-night,” sharply said Marguerite, as he +attempted to pass her. + +“Alas! is my excellent friend so very ill?” asked Ramin, in a mournful +tone. + +“Sir,” eagerly said the clergyman, catching him by the button of his +coat, “if you are indeed the friend of that unhappy man, do seek to +bring him into a more suitable frame of mind. I have seen many dying +men, but never so much obstinacy, never such infatuated belief in the +duration of life.” + +“Then you think he really _is_ dying?” asked Ramin; and, in spite of the +melancholy accent he endeavoured to assume, there was something so +peculiar in his tone, that the priest looked at him very fixedly as he +slowly replied, + +“Yes, Sir, I think he is.” + +“Ah!” was all Monsieur Ramin said; and as the clergyman had now relaxed +his hold of the button, Ramin passed in spite of the remonstrances of +Marguerite, who rushed after the priest. He found Monsieur Bonelle still +in bed and in a towering rage. + +“Oh! Ramin, my friend,” he groaned, “never take a housekeeper, and never +let her know you have any property. They are harpies, Ramin,—harpies! +such a day as I have had; first, the lawyer, who comes to write down ‘my +last testamentary dispositions,’ as he calls them; then the priest, who +gently hints that I am a dying man. Oh, what a day!” + +“And _did_ you make your will, my excellent friend?” softly asked +Monsieur Ramin, with a keen look. + +“Make my will?” indignantly exclaimed the old man; “make my will? what +do you mean, Sir? do you mean to say I am dying?” + +“Heaven forbid!” piously ejaculated Ramin. + +“Then why do you ask me if I have been making my will?” angrily resumed +the old man. He then began to be extremely abusive. + +When money was in the way, Monsieur Ramin, though otherwise of a violent +temper, had the meekness of a lamb. He bore the treatment of his host +with the meekest patience, and having first locked the door so as to +make sure that Marguerite would not interrupt them, he watched Monsieur +Bonelle attentively, and satisfied himself that the Excellent +Opportunity he had been ardently longing for had arrived. “He is going +fast,” he thought; “and unless I settle the agreement to-night, and get +it drawn up and signed to-morrow, it will be too late.” + +“My dear friend,” he at length said aloud, on perceiving that the old +gentleman had fairly exhausted himself and was lying panting on his +back, “you are indeed a lamentable instance of the lengths to which the +greedy lust of lucre will carry our poor human nature. It is really +distressing to see Marguerite, a faithful, attached servant, suddenly +converted into a tormenting harpy by the prospect of a legacy! Lawyers +and priests flock around you like birds of prey, drawn hither by the +scent of gold! Oh, the miseries of having delicate health combined with +a sound constitution and large property!” + +“Ramin,” groaned the old man, looking inquiringly into his visitor’s +face, “you are again going to talk to me about that annuity—I know you +are!” + +“My excellent friend, it is merely to deliver you from a painful +position.” + +“I am sure, Ramin, you think in your soul I am dying,” whimpered +Monsieur Bonelle. + +“Absurd, my dear Sir. Dying? I will prove to you that you have never +been in better health. In the first place you feel no pain.” + +“Excepting from rheumatism,” groaned Monsieur Bonelle. + +“Rheumatism! who ever died of rheumatism? and if that be all——” + +“No, it is not all,” interrupted the old man with great irritability; +“what would you say to the gout getting higher and higher up every day?” + +“The gout is rather disagreeable, but if there is nothing else——” + +“Yes, there is something else,” sharply said Monsieur Bonelle. “There is +an asthma that will scarcely let me breathe, and a racking pain in my +head that does not allow me a moment’s ease. But if you think I am +dying, Ramin, you are quite mistaken.” + +“No doubt, my dear friend, no doubt; but in the meanwhile, suppose we +talk of this annuity. Shall we say one thousand francs a year.” + +“What?” asked Bonelle, looking at him very fixedly. + +“My dear friend, I mistook; I meant two thousand francs per annum,” +hurriedly rejoined Ramin. + +Monsieur Bonelle closed his eyes, and appeared to fall into a gentle +slumber. The mercer coughed; the sick man never moved. + +“Monsieur Bonelle.” + +No reply. + +“My excellent friend.” + +Utter silence. + +“Are you asleep?” + +A long pause. + +“Well, then, what do you say to three thousand?” + +Monsieur Bonelle opened his eyes. + +“Ramin,” said he, sententiously, “you are a fool; the house brings me in +four thousand as it is.” + +This was quite false, and the mercer knew it; but he had his own reasons +for wishing to seem to believe it true. + +“Good Heavens!” said he, with an air of great innocence, “who could have +thought it, and the lodgers constantly running away. Four thousand? +Well, then, you shall have four thousand.” + +Monsieur Bonelle shut his eyes once more, and murmured “The mere +rental—nonsense!” He then folded his hands on his breast, and appeared +to compose himself to sleep. + +“Oh, what a sharp man of business he is!” Ramin said, admiringly: but +for once omnipotent flattery failed in its effect: “So acute!” continued +he, with a stealthy glance at the old man, who remained perfectly +unmoved. “I see you will insist upon making it the other five hundred +francs.” + +Monsieur Ramin said this as if five thousand five hundred francs had +already been mentioned, and was the very summit of Monsieur Bonelle’s +ambition. But the ruse failed in its effect; the sick man never so much +as stirred. + +“But, my dear friend,” urged Monsieur Ramin in a tone of feeling +remonstrance, “there is such a thing as being too sharp, too acute. How +can you expect that I shall give you more when your constitution is so +good, and you are to be such a long liver?” + +“Yes, but I may be carried off one of those days,” quietly observed the +old man, evidently wishing to turn the chance of his own death to +account. + +“Indeed, and I hope so,” muttered the mercer, who was getting very +ill-tempered. + +“You see,” soothingly continued Bonelle, “you are so good a man of +business, Ramin, that you will double the actual value of the house in +no time. I am a quiet, easy person, indifferent to money; otherwise this +house would now bring me in eight thousand at the very least.” + +“Eight thousand!” indignantly exclaimed the mercer. “Monsieur Bonelle, +you have no conscience. Come now, my dear friend, do be reasonable. Six +thousand francs a year (I don’t mind saying six) is really a very +handsome income for a man of your quiet habits. Come, be reasonable.” +But Monsieur Bonelle turned a deaf ear to reason, and closed his eyes +once more. What between opening and shutting them for the next quarter +of an hour, he at length induced Monsieur Ramin to offer him seven +thousand francs. + +“Very well, Ramin, agreed,” he quietly said; “you have made an +unconscionable bargain.” To this succeeded a violent fit of coughing. + +As Ramin unlocked the door to leave, he found old Marguerite, who had +been listening all the time, ready to assail him with a torrent of +whispered abuse for duping her “poor dear innocent old master into such +a bargain.” The mercer bore it all very patiently; he could make +allowances for her excited feelings, and only rubbed his hands and bade +her a jovial good evening. + +The agreement was signed on the following day, to the indignation of old +Marguerite, and the mutual satisfaction of the parties concerned. + +Every one admired the luck and shrewdness of Ramin, for the old man +every day was reported worse; and it was clear to all that the first +quarter of the annuity would never be paid. Marguerite, in her wrath, +told the story as a grievance to every one: people listened, shook their +heads, and pronounced Monsieur Ramin to be a deuced clever fellow. + +A month elapsed. As Ramin was coming down one morning from the attics, +where he had been giving notice to a poor widow who had failed in paying +her rent, he heard a light step on the stairs. Presently a sprightly +gentleman, in buoyant health and spirits, wearing the form of Monsieur +Bonelle, appeared. Ramin stood aghast. + +“Well, Ramin,” gaily said the old man, “how are you getting on? Have you +been tormenting the poor widow up-stairs? Why, man, we must live and let +live!” + +“Monsieur Bonelle,” said the mercer, in a hollow tone; “may I ask where +are your rheumatics?” + +“Gone, my dear friend,—gone.” + +“And the gout that was creeping higher and higher every day,” exclaimed +Monsieur Ramin, in a voice of anguish. + +“It went lower and lower, till it disappeared altogether,” composedly +replied Bonelle. + +“And your asthma——” + +“The asthma remains, but asthmatic people are proverbially long-lived. +It is, I have been told, the only complaint that Methuselah was troubled +with.” With this Bonelle opened his door, shut it, and disappeared. + +Ramin was transfixed on the stairs; petrified with intense +disappointment, and a powerful sense of having been duped. When he was +discovered, he stared vacantly, and raved about an Excellent Opportunity +of taking his revenge. + +The wonderful cure was the talk of the neighbourhood, whenever Monsieur +Bonelle appeared in the streets, jauntily flourishing his cane. In the +first frenzy of his despair, Ramin refused to pay; he accused every one +of having been in a plot to deceive him; he turned off Catherine and +expelled his porter; he publicly accused the lawyer and priest of +conspiracy; brought an action against the doctor, and lost it. He had +another brought against him for violently assaulting Marguerite in which +he was cast in heavy damages. Monsieur Bonelle did not trouble himself +with useless remonstrances, but, when his annuity was refused, employed +such good legal arguments, as the exasperated mercer could not possibly +resist. + +Ten years have elapsed, and MM. Ramin and Bonelle still live on. For a +house which would have been dear at fifty thousand francs, the draper +has already handed over seventy thousand. + +The once red-faced, jovial Ramin is now a pale haggard man, of sour +temper and aspect. To add to his anguish, he sees the old man thrive on +that money which it breaks his heart to give. Old Marguerite takes a +malicious pleasure in giving him an exact account of their good cheer, +and in asking him if he does not think Monsieur looks better and better +every day. Of one part of this torment Ramin might get rid, by giving +his old master notice to quit, and no longer having him in his house. +But this he cannot do; he has a secret fear that Bonelle would take some +Excellent Opportunity of dying without his knowledge, and giving some +other person an Excellent Opportunity of personating him, and receiving +the money in his stead. + +The last accounts of the victim of Excellent Opportunities represent him +as being gradually worn down with disappointment. There seems every +probability of his being the first to leave the world; for Bonelle is +heartier than ever. + + + + + REVIEW OF A POPULAR PUBLICATION. + IN THE SEARCHING STYLE. + + THE BANK NOTE. _Oblong Octavo._ London, 1850. _The Governor and + Company of the Bank of England. Price, from Five to One Thousand + Pounds._ + + The object of this popular but expensive pocket companion, is not + wholly dissimilar from that of its clever and cheaper contemporary + “Notes and Queries.” As the latter is a “medium of intercommunication + for literary men,” so the former is a medium of intercommunication for + commercial men; and surely there is no work with which so many queries + are constantly connected as the Bank Note. Nothing in existence is so + assiduously inquired for; nothing in nature so perseveringly sought. + + This is not to be wondered at; for in whatever light we view it, to + whatever test we bring it, whether we read it backwards or forwards, + from left to right, or from right to left; or whether we make it a + transparency to prove its substantial genuineness and worth, who can + deny that the Bank Note is a most valuable work?—a publication, in + short, without which no gentleman’s pocket can be complete? + + Few can rise from a critical examination of the literary contents of + this narrow sheet, without being forcibly struck with the power, + combined with the exquisite fineness of the writing. It strikes + conviction at once. It dispels all doubts, and relieves all + objections. There is a pithy terseness in the construction of the + sentences; a downright, direct, straightforward, coming to the point, + which would be wisely imitated in much of the contemporaneous + literature that constantly obtains currency (though not as much). Here + we have no circumlocution, no discursive pedantry, no smell of the + lamp; the figures, though wholly derived from the East (being Arabic + numerals), are distinct and full of purpose; and if the writing + abounds in flourishes, which it does, these are not rhetorical, but + boldly graphic: struck with a nervous decision of style, which, + instead of obscuring the text and meaning, convinces the reader that + he who traced them when promising to pay the sum of five, ten, twenty, + thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred, or a thousand pounds, means + honestly and instantly to keep his word: that he _will_ pay it to + bearer on demand, without one moment’s hesitation. + + Strictly adapted for utility, yet the dulcet is not wholly overlooked; + for, besides figures and flourishes, the graces of art are shed over + this much-prized publication. The figure of Britannia is no slavish + reproduction of any particular school whatever. She sits upon her + scroll of state utterly inimitable and alone. She is hung up in one + corner of the page, the sole representative of the P. R. F. P., or + pre-reissue-of-the-fourpenny-piece, school. Neither, if judged by the + golden rule of our greatest bard, is the work wholly deficient in + another charm. As we have just explained, its words are few: brevity + is the soul of wit. And we fearlessly put it to the keenest + appreciator of good things, whether a Bank Note (say for a hundred) is + not the best joke conceivable—except, indeed, a Bank Note for a + thousand. + + A critical analysis of a work of this importance cannot be complete + without going deeply into the subject. Reviewing is, alas, too often + mere surface-work; for seldom do we find the critic going below the + superficies, or extending his scrutiny beyond the letter-press. We + shall, however, set a bright example of profundity, and having + discharged our duty to the face of the Bank Note, shall proceed to + penetrate below it: having analysed the print, we shall now speak of + the paper. + + The late Mr. Cobbett, to express his idea of the intrinsic + worthlessness of these sheets, in comparison with the prices at which + they pass current, was wont to designate Bank Notes as “Rags.” It may, + indeed, be said of them that, “Rags they were, and to tinder they + return;” for they are born of shreds of linen, and, ten years after + death, are converted in bonfires into the finest of known tinder. It + may be considered a curious fact by those who wear shirts, and a + painful, because hopeless one, by those who make them, that the refuse + or cuttings of linen forms, with a slight admixture of cotton, the + pabulum or pulp of Bank Note Paper. Machinery has made no inroads on + this branch of paper-making. The pulp is kept so well mixed in a large + vat, that the fibrous material presents the appearance of a huge + cauldron of milk. Into this the paper-maker dips his mould, which is a + fine wire sieve, having round its edge, a slight mahogany frame, + called the “Deckel,” which confines the pulp to the dimensions of the + mould. This dip is quite a feat of dexterity, for on it depends the + thickness and evenness of the sheet of paper. The water-mark, or, more + properly, the wire-mark, is obtained by twisting wires to the desired + form or design, and stitching them on the face of the mould; therefore + the design is above the level face of the mould, by the thickness of + the wires it is composed of. Hence, the pulp in settling down on the + mould, must of necessity be thinner on the wire design than on other + parts of the sheet. When the water has run off through the sieve-like + face of the mould, the new-born sheet of paper is transferred to a + blanket; this operation is called “couching,” and is effected by + pressing the mould gently but firmly on the blanket, when the spongy + sheet clings to the cloth. Sizing is a subsequent process, and, when + dry, the water-mark is plainly discernible, being, of course, + transparent where the substance is thinnest. The paper is then made up + into reams of five hundred sheets each, ready for press. The + water-mark in the notes of the Bank of England is secured to that + Establishment by a special Act of Parliament. Indeed, imitation of + anything whatever connected with a Bank Note is an extremely hazardous + feat. + + A scrupulous examination of this curious piece of paper, implants a + thorough conviction that it is a very superior article—in short, + unique. There is nothing like it in the world of sheets. Tested by the + touch, it gives out a crisp, crackling, sharp, sound—a note + essentially its own—a music which resounds from no other quires. To + the eye it shows a colour belonging neither to blue-wove nor + yellow-wove, nor to cream-laid, but a white, like no other white, + either in paper and pulp. The rough fringiness of three of its edges + are called the “deckled” edges, being the natural boundary of the pulp + when first moulded; the fourth is left smooth by the knife, which + eventually cuts the two notes in twain. It is so thin that, when + printed, there is much difficulty in making erasures; yet it is so + strong that a “water-leaf” (a leaf before the application of size) + will support thirty-six pounds; and, with the addition of one grain of + size, half a hundred weight, without tearing; yet the quantity of + fibre of which it consists, is no more than eighteen grains and a + half. + + The process of engraving the Bank Note is peculiar. Its general design + is remarkably plain—steel plates are used, and are engraved in a + manner somewhat analogous to that employed in the Mint for the + production of the coin, except that heavy pressure is used instead of + a blow. The form of the Note is divided into four or five sections, + each engraved on steel dies which are hardened. Steel rollers, or + mills, are obtained from these dies, and each portion of the Note is + impressed on a steel plate to be printed from by the mills until the + whole form is complete. + + By means of a very ingenious machine, the engraving on the plates when + worn by long printing is repaired by the same mills, and thus perfect + identity of form is permanently secured. The merits of this system are + due to the late Mr. Oldham, and the many improvements introduced not + only into this, but into the printing department, are the work of his + son and successor, Mr. Thomas Oldham, the present chief engraver to + the Bank of England. The plate—always with a pair of notes upon it—is + now ready for the press; for it contains all the literary part of the + work, except the date, the number, and the cashier’s signature. + + We must now review the manner of printing. Before passing through the + press, all paper must be damped that it may readily absorb ink; and + Bank Note paper is not exempt from this law; but the process by which + it is complied with is an ingenious exception to the ordinary modes. + The sheets are put into an iron chamber which is exhausted of air; + water is then admitted, and forces itself through every pore at the + rate of thirty thousand sheets, or double notes, per minute! + + In a long gallery that looks like a chamber of the Inquisition with + self-acting racks, stands a row of plate-printing presses worked by + steam. Every time a sheet passes through them they emit a soft “click” + like a ship’s capstan creaking in a whisper. By this sound they + announce to all whom it may concern that they have printed two Bank + Notes. They are tell-tales, and keep no secrets; for, not content with + stating the fact aloud, each press moves, by means of a chain, an + index of numerals at the end of the room; so that the chief of the + department can see at any hour of the day how many each press has + printed. To take an impression of a note plate “on the sly,” is + therefore impossible. By a clever invention of Mr. Oldham the + impression returns to the printer when made, instead of remaining on + the opposite side of the press, after it has passed through the + rollers, as of old. The plates are heated, for inking, over steam + boxes instead of charcoal fires. + + When a ream, consisting of five hundred sheets or one thousand notes, + have been printed, they are placed in a tray which is inserted in a + sort of shelf-trap that shuts up with a spring. No after-abstraction + can, therefore, take place. One such repository is over the index + appertaining to each press, and at the end of the day it can at once + be seen whether the number of sheets corresponds with the numerals of + the tell-tale. Any sort of mistake can thus be readily detected. The + average number of “promises to pay” printed per diem is thirty + thousand. + + As we cannot allow the dot over an _i_, or the cross of a _t_ to + escape the focus of our critical microscope, we now proceed to apply + it to the Bank Ink. Like the liquid of Messrs. Day and Martin, this + inestimable composition, with half the usual labour, produces the most + brilliant jet-black, fully equal to the highest Japan varnish, and is + warranted to keep in any climate. It is made from the charred husks of + Rhenish grapes after their juice has been expressed and bottled for + exportation to the dinner-tables of half the world. When mixed with + pure linseed oil, carefully prepared by boiling and burning, the + vinous refuse produces a species of blacks so tenacious that they + obstinately refuse to be emancipated from the paper when once enslaved + to it by the press. It is so intensely nigritious that, compared with + it, all other blacks are musty browns; and pale beside it. If the word + of a printer’s devil may be taken, it is many degrees darker than the + streams of Erebus. Can deeper praise be awarded? + + The note is, when plate-printed, two processes distant from + negotiable; the first being the numbering and dating—and here we must + point out the grand distinction which exists between the publication + which we have the satisfaction of stating, now lies before us (but it + is only a “Five”) and ordinary prints. When the types for this + miscellany, for instance, are once set up, every copy struck off from + them by the press is precisely similar. On the contrary, of those + emitted from the Bank presses _no two are alike_. They differ either + in date, in number, or in denomination. This difference constitutes a + grand system of check, extending over every stage of every Bank Note’s + career—a system which records its completion and issue, tracks it + through its public adventures, recognises it when it returns to the + Bank, from among hundreds of thousands of companions, and finally + enables the proper officers to pounce upon it, in case of inquiry, at + any official half hour for ten years after it has returned in + fulfilment of its “promise to pay,” To promise an explanation of what + must appear so complicated a plan, may seem to the reader like a + threat of prolixity. But he may read on in security; the system is as + simple as the alphabet. + + Understand then, that the dates of Bank Notes are arbitrary, and bear + no reference to the day of issue. At the beginning of the official + year (February) the Directors settle what dates each of the eleven + denominations of Bank Notes shall bear during the ensuing twelve + months, taking care to apportion to each sort of note a separate date. + The table of dates is then handed to the proper officer, who prints + accordingly. The five-pound Note which now rejoices our eyes is, for + example, dated February the 2nd, 1850; we therefore know that there is + no genuine note in existence, for any other sum, which bears that + date; and if a note for ten, twenty, fifty, hundred, &c., having “2nd + Feb., 1850,” upon it were to be offered to us or to a Bank Clerk, we + or he would, without a shadow of further evidence, impound it as a + forgery. + + Now, as to the numbering:—It is a rule that of every date and + denomination, one hundred thousand Notes—no more and no less—shall be + completed and issued at one time. We know, therefore, that our + solitary five is one of a hundred thousand other fives, each bearing a + different number—from 1[2] to 100,000—but all dated 2nd Feb., 1850. + The numbers are printed on each Note by means of a letter-press, the + types of which change with each pull of the press. For the first Note, + the press is set at “00001,” and when that is printed, the “1,” by the + mere act of impression, retires to make room for “2,” which impresses + itself on the next Note, and so on up to “100,000.” The system has + been applied to the stamping of railway tickets. The date, being + required for the whole series, is of course immovable. After this has + been done, the autograph of a cashier is only requisite to render the + Note worth the value inscribed on it, in gold. + +Footnote 2: + + To prevent fraudulent additions of numerals, less than five figures + are never used. When units, tens, &c., are required, they are + preceded by cyphers. “One” is therefore expressed on a Bank Note + thus:—“00001.” + + While the printers are at work, manufacturing each series of Notes, + the account-book makers are getting-up a series of ledgers so exactly + to correspond, that the books of themselves, without the stroke of a + pen, are a record of the existence of the Note. The book in which the + birth of our own especial and particular “Five” is registered, is + legibly inscribed, + + “Fives, Feb. 2, 1850.” + + When you open a page, you find it to consist of a series of horizontal + and perpendicular lines, like the pattern of a pair of shepherd’s + plaid inexpressibles, variegated with columns of numerals; these + figures running on regularly from No. 1, on the top of the first page, + to No. 100,000 at the bottom of the last. It must therefore be obvious + to the meanest capacity that the mere existence of that book, with its + arbitrary date and series of numbers, corresponding to the like series + of Notes, is a sufficient record of the existence and issue of the + latter. The return of each Note after its public travels, is recorded + in the square opposite to its number. Each page of the book contains + two hundred squares and numbers; consequently, whatever number a Note + may bear, the Clerk who has to register its safe return from a long + round of public circulation, knows at once on which page of the book + to pounce for its own proper and particular square. In that he inserts + the date of its return—not at full length, but in cypher. “S” in red + ink means 1850, and the months are indicated by one of the letters of + the word AMBIDEXTROUS, with the date in numerals. Our only, and + therefore favourite, five is numbered 31177. Should it chance to + finish its travels in the Accountant’s Office on the 6th of August + next, it will be narrowly inspected (for fear of forgery) and + defaced—a Clerk will then turn at once to the book lettered “Fives, + Feb. 2,” and so exactly will he know which page to open, and where the + square numbered 31177 is situated, that he could point to it + blindfold. He will write in it “6 t,” which means 6th August; that + being the eighth month in the year, and “t” the eighth letter in the + chosen word. + + The intermediate history of a Bank Note is soon told. + Nineteen-twentieths are issued to Bankers or known houses of business. + If Glynn’s, or Smith’s, or any other banking firm, require a hundred + ten-pound Notes, the Clerk who issues them makes a memorandum showing + the number of the Notes so issued, and the name of the party to whom + they have been handed—an easy process, because Notes being new,[3] are + always given out in regular series, and the first and last Note that + makes the sum required need only be recorded. Most Bankers make + similar memoranda when notes pass out of their hands; and the public, + as each Note circulates among them, frequently sign the name of the + last holder. When an unknown person presents a Note for gold at the + Bank of England, he is required to write his name and address on it, + and if the sum be very large, it is not paid without inquiry. By these + expedients, a stolen, lost, or forged note can often be traced from + hand to hand up to its advent. + +Footnote 3: + + The Bank ceased to re-issue its Notes since 1835. + + The average periods which each denomination of London Notes remain in + circulation has been calculated, and is shown by the following + + ACCOUNT OF THE + NUMBER OF DAYS + A BANK NOTE + ISSUED IN + LONDON REMAINS + IN + CIRCULATION:— + + £5 72·7 days + 10 77·0 „ + 20 57·4 „ + 30 18·9 „ + 40 13·7 „ + 50 38·8 „ + 100 29·4 „ + 200 12·7 „ + 300 10·6 „ + 500 11·8 „ + 1000 11·1 „ + + The exceptions to these averages are few, and, therefore, remarkable. + The time during which some Notes remain unpresented are reckoned by + the century. On the 27th of September, 1845, a fifty pound Note was + presented bearing date 20th January, 1743. Another for ten pounds, + issued on the 19th November, 1762, was not paid till the 20th April, + 1843. There is a legend extant, of the eccentric possessor of a + thousand pound Note, who kept it framed and glazed for a series of + years, preferring to feast his eyes on it, to putting the amount it + represented out at interest. It was converted into gold, however, + without a day’s loss of time by his heirs, on his demise. Stolen and + lost Notes are generally long absentees. The former usually make their + appearance soon after some great horse-race, or other sporting event, + altered or disguised so as to deceive Bankers, to whom the Bank of + England furnishes a list of the numbers and dates of stolen Notes. In + a Chapter on Forgery, which we are preparing, the reader will see some + singular facts on this point. + + Mr. Francis, in his “History of the Bank of England,” tells a curious + story about a bank post bill, which was detained during thirty years + from presentation and payment. It happened in the year 1740:—“One of + the Directors, a very rich man, had occasion for 30,000_l._, which he + was to pay as the price of an estate be had just bought; to facilitate + the matter, he carried the sum with him to the Bank and obtained for + it a Bank bill. On his return home, he was suddenly called out upon + particular business; he threw the Note carelessly on the chimney, but + when he came back a few minutes afterwards to lock it up, it was not + to be found. No one had entered the room; he could not therefore + suspect any person. At last, after much ineffectual search, he was + persuaded that it had fallen from the chimney into the fire. The + Director went to acquaint his colleagues with the misfortune that had + happened to him; and as he was known to be a perfectly honourable man + he was readily believed. It was only about four-and-twenty hours from + the time that he had deposited his money; they thought, therefore, + that it would be hard to refuse his request for a second bill. He + received it upon giving an obligation to restore the first bill, if it + should ever be found, or to pay the money himself, if it should be + presented by any stranger. About thirty years afterwards (the Director + having been long dead, and his heirs in possession of his fortune), an + unknown person presented the lost bill at the Bank, and demanded + payment. It was in vain that they mentioned to this person the + transaction by which that bill was annulled; he would not listen to + it; he maintained that it had come to him from abroad, and insisted + upon immediate payment. The Note was payable to bearer; and the thirty + thousand pounds were paid him. The heirs of the Director would not + listen to any demands of restitution; and the Bank was obliged to + sustain the loss. It was discovered afterwards that an architect + having purchased the Director’s house, had taken it down, in order to + build another upon the same spot, had found the Note in a crevice of + the chimney, and made his discovery an engine for robbing the Bank.” + +[Illustration: ‘Illustration] + + Carelessness, equal to that recorded above, is not at all uncommon, + and gives the Bank enormous profit, against which the loss of a mere + thirty thousand pound is but a trifle. Bank Notes have been known to + light pipes, to wrap up snuff, to be used as curl-papers; and British + tars, mad with rum and prize-money, have not unfrequently, in time of + war, made sandwiches of them, and eaten them between bread-and-butter. + In the forty years between the years 1792 and 1812 there were + out-standing Notes (presumed to have been lost or destroyed) amounting + to one million, three hundred and thirty odd thousand pounds; every + shilling of which was clear profit to the Bank. + + The superannuation, death, and burial of a Bank of England Note is a + story soon told. The returned Notes, or promises performed, are kept + in “The Library” for ten years, and then burnt in an iron cage in one + of the Bank yards. + + A few words on the history and general appearance of the Bank of + England Note will conclude our criticism. + + The strong principle to insure the detection of forgery is uniformity; + hence, from the very first Note issued by the Bank, to that, the + merits of which we are now discussing, the same general design has + been preserved,—only that the execution has been from time to time + improved; except, we are bound to add, that of the signatures, some of + which are still as illegible as ever. Originally, Notes were granted + more in the form of Bank post-bills,—that is, not nominally to a + member of the establishment, but really to the party applying for + them, and for any sum he might require. If it suited his convenience, + he presented his Note several times, drawing such lesser sums as he + might require; precisely as if it were a letter of credit, after the + manner of the Sailor mentioned in the latest edition of Joe Miller. + Jack, somehow or other, got possession of a fifty pound Note; the sum + was so dazzlingly enormous that he had not the heart, on presenting it + for payment, to demand the whole sum at once, for fear of breaking the + Bank. So, leaning confidentially over the counter, he whispered to the + cashier, that he wouldn’t be hard upon ’em. He knew times were + bad,—so, as it was all the same to him, he would take five sovereigns + now, and the rest at so much a week. In like manner, the fac-simile on + the opposite page, while it presents a specimen of one of the earliest + Bank Notes in existence, shows that the holder took the amount as Jack + proposed;—by instalments. It was granted to Mr. Thomas Powell, on the + 19th of December, 1699, for five hundred and fifty-five pounds. His + first draft was one hundred and thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and + one penny; the second “in gould,” three hundred and sixty; the third, + sixty-three pounds, nine shillings, and elevenpence, when the note was + retained by the Bank as having been fully honoured. + + With this curious specimen of the ancient Bank of England Note, we + take leave of the modern ones—only, however, for a short time. In a + week or two, we shall change the topic (as we have previously + intimated) to one closely bearing upon it. Circumstances, however, + demand that we should change the subject of it at a much earlier date. + + + + + INNOCENCE AND CRIME. + AN ANECDOTE. + + + A benevolent old gentleman—the late Mr. Harcourt Brown of Beech + Hall—was plodding his way home to his hotel from a ramble in the + suburbs of London; and having made a bold attempt at “a short cut,” + soon found himself lost in a maze of squalid streets, leading one into + the other, and apparently leading no where else. He inquired his way + in vain. From the first person, he received a coarse jest; from + another, a look of vacant stupidity; a third eyed him in dogged + silence. He stepped with one foot into several wretched little shops; + but the people really seemed to know nothing beyond the next street or + alley, except one man, a dealer in tripe, of a strange, earthy colour, + who called over his shoulder, “Oh, you’re miles out o’ your way!” The + only exception to the general indifference, rudeness and stupidity, + was a thin sallow-cheeked man, who had a fixed smile on his face, and + spoke in rather an abject cringing tone of obsequiousness, and even + walked up one street and down a second to show Mr. Brown the way. But + it soon became evident that he knew nothing about the matter, and he + slunk away with the same fixed unmeaning smile. + + In this state of affairs Mr. Brown buttoned up his coat, and manfully + resolved to work his way out of this filthy locality by walking + straight forward. + + Trudging onward at a smart pace, the worthy gentleman presently heard + the sound of sobbing and crying, and behind the boards of a shed at + the side of a ruined hovel he saw a girl of some nine or ten years of + age, clasping and unclasping her hands in a paroxysm of grief and + apprehension. “Oh, what _shall_ I do?—what _shall_ I do?” sobbed the + child. + + She started with terror as Mr. Brown approached, and hid her head in + the folds of her little apron; but on being assured by the mild voice + of Mr. Brown that he had no thought of hurting her, she ventured to + look up. She had soft blue eyes, flaxen hair of silvery glossiness, + pretty features; and, notwithstanding the stain of tears down a cheek + which had a smear of brickdust upon it, had a most innocent and + prepossessing face. + + “What is the matter, my little girl?” inquired Mr. Brown. + + The child turned one shoulder half round, and displayed the red and + purple marks of blows from a whip or stick. + + “What cruel wretch has done this?” asked Mr. Brown. “Tell me, child; + tell me directly.” + + “It was mother,” sobbed the child. + + “Ah—I’m sorry to hear this. Perhaps you have been naughty?” + + “Yes, Sir;” answered the child. + + “Poor child,” ejaculated Mr. Brown; “but you will not be naughty + again. What was your offence. Come, tell me?” + + “I shook it, Sir; oh, yes, it’s quite true; I did shake it very much.” + + “What did you shake?” inquired Mr. Brown. + + “I shook the doll, Sir.” + + “The doll! Oh, you mean you shook the baby; that, certainly was + naughty of you;” said Mr. Brown. + + “No, Sir; it was not the baby I shook—it was the doll; and I’m afraid + to go home—mother will be sure to beat me again.” + + An impulse of benevolence led Mr. Brown’s hand to search for his + purse. Had he tried the wrong pocket? His purse was on the other side. + No, it was not—it must be in this inner pocket. Where _is_ Mr. Brown’s + purse? It is not in any of his pockets! He tries them all over again. + And his pocket-book!—chiefly of memorandums, but also having a few + bank notes. This is gone too—and his silk handkerchief—both his + handkerchiefs!—also his silver-gilt snuff-box, filled with rappee only + five minutes before he left the hotel this morning—he is certain he + had it when he came out—but it is certainly gone! Every single thing + he had in his pockets is gone. + + The child also—now _she_ is gone! Mr. Brown looks around him, and + yonder he sees the poor child flying with frequent looks behind of + terror,—and now a shrill and frightful voice causes him to start. + Turning in that direction, the sudden flight of the little girl is + immediately explained. Over the rubbish and refuse, at a swift, wild + pace, courses a fiendish woman, with a savage eye and open mouth, her + cheeks hollow, her teeth projecting, her thin hair flying like a bit + of diseased mane over her half-naked shoulder; she has a stick in her + hand, with which she constantly threatens the flying child, whom her + execrations follow yet more swiftly than her feet. + + Mr. Brown remained watching them till they were out of sight. He once + more searched all his pockets, but they were all empty. He called to + mind the man with the fixed smile on his hollow cadaverous cheek, and + several other faces of men whom he had casually noticed in the course + of the last half hour, thinking what a pity it was that something + could not be done for them. He now began to think it was a very great + pity that something had not _already_ been done for them or with them, + for they had certainly “done” him. Poor Mr. Brown! + + Some six or seven months after this most disagreeable adventure, it + chanced that Mr. Brown was going over the prison at Coldbath Fields, + accompanied by the Governor. As they entered one of the wards, the + voice of a child sobbing, attracted the ears of our philanthropist. In + answer to his inquiries, the Governor informed him that it was a child + of about eleven years of age, who had been detected in the act of + picking a lady’s pocket in one of the most crowded thoroughfares. + + On a few kind words being spoken to her, she looked up; and in the + blue eye, glossy flaxen hair, and pretty features, Mr. Brown at once + recognised the little girl who had “shaken the doll.” + + “This child is an innocent creature!” cried he, turning to the + Governor, “the victim of ignorance and cruel treatment at home. I + recollect her well. Her mother had beaten her most shamefully; and the + last glimpse I had of her was in her flight from a still more savage + assault. And for what crime do you suppose?” + + “For not picking pockets expertly, I dare say:” replied the Governor. + + “Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Mr. Brown. “Would you believe it, + Sir; it was for nothing more than a childish bit of pretence-anger + with her doll, on which occasion she gave the doll a good shaking. + Mere pretence, you know.” + + “My dear Sir,” said the Governor, smiling, “I fancy I am right, after + all. She was beaten for not being expert in the study and practice of + pocket-picking at home. You are not, perhaps, aware that the lesson + consists in picking the pockets of a figure which is hung up in the + room, in such a way that the least awkwardness of touch makes it + shake, and rings a little bell attached to it. This figure is called + the ‘doll.’ Those who ring the bell, shake it in emptying its pockets, + are punished according to the mind and temper of the instructor.” + + “Good heavens!” ejaculated Mr. Brown, “to what perfection must the art + be brought! Then it is all accounted for. The sallow gentleman with + the fixed smile must have been master of the craft of not shaking the + doll, when he took my purse, pocket-book, snuff-box, and both + handkerchiefs from me, without my feeling so much as the motion of the + air!” + + * * * * * + + Monthly Supplement of “HOUSEHOLD WORDS,” + Conducted by CHARLES DICKENS. + + + _Price 2d., Stamped, 3d._, + THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE + OF + CURRENT EVENTS. + + + _The Number, containing a history of the past month, was issued with + the Magazines._ + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Renumbered footnotes. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● The caret (^) is used to indicate superscript, whether applied to a + single character (as in 2^d) or to an entire expression (as in + 1^{st}). + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78183 *** diff --git a/78183-h/78183-h.htm b/78183-h/78183-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8099b20 --- /dev/null +++ b/78183-h/78183-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3580 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>Household Words, No. 18, July 27, 1850 | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + body { margin-left: 8%; 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} + div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; } + div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } + .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; + page-break-before: always; } + .double {border-style: double;border-width: 4px; padding: 1em; clear: both; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78183 ***</div> + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='double titlepage'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>“<i>Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS.</i>”—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span> + <h1 class='c002'>HOUSEHOLD WORDS.<br> <span class='xlarge'>A WEEKLY JOURNAL.</span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='large'>CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.</span></div> + <div class='c001'>N<sup>o.</sup> 18.]      SATURDAY, JULY 27, 1850.      [<span class='sc'>Price</span> 2<i>d.</i></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c004'>In pursuance of the intention mentioned at +the close of a former paper on “The Modern +Science of Thief-taking,” we now proceed to +endeavour to convey to our readers some +faint idea of the extraordinary dexterity, +patience, and ingenuity, exercised by the Detective +Police. That our description may be +as graphic as we can render it, and may be +perfectly reliable, we will make it, so far as +in us lies, a piece of plain truth. And first, +we have to inform the reader how the anecdotes +we are about to communicate, came to +our knowledge.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We are not by any means devout believers +in the Old Bow-Street Police. To say the +truth, we think there was a vast amount of +humbug about those worthies. Apart from +many of them being men of very indifferent +character, and far too much in the habit of +consorting with thieves and the like, they +never lost a public occasion of jobbing and +trading in mystery and making the most of +themselves. Continually puffed besides by +incompetent magistrates anxious to conceal +their own deficiencies, and hand-in-glove +with the penny-a-liners of that time, they became +a sort of superstition. Although as a +Preventive Police they were utterly ineffective, +and as a Detective Police were very +loose and uncertain in their operations, they +remain with some people, a superstition to +the present day.</p> + +<p class='c005'>On the other hand, the Detective Force +organised since the establishment of the existing +Police, is so well chosen and trained, +proceeds so systematically and quietly, does its +business in such a workman-like manner, and +is always so calmly and steadily engaged in +the service of the public, that the public +really do not know enough of it, to know a +tithe of its usefulness. Impressed with this +conviction, and interested in the men themselves, +we represented to the authorities at +Scotland Yard, that we should be glad, if +there were no official objection, to have some +talk with the Detectives. A most obliging +and ready permission being given, a certain +evening was appointed with a certain Inspector +for a social conference between ourselves and +the Detectives, at our Office in Wellington +Street, Strand, London. In consequence of +which appointment the party “came off,” +which we are about to describe. And we beg +to repeat that, avoiding such topics as it +might for obvious reasons be injurious to the +public, or disagreeable to respectable individuals, +to touch upon in print, our description +is as exact as we can make it.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The reader will have the goodness to +imagine the Sanctum Sanctorum of Household +Words. Anything that best suits the reader’s +fancy, will best represent that magnificent +chamber. We merely stipulate for a round +table in the middle, with some glasses and +cigars arranged upon it; and the editorial sofa +elegantly hemmed in between that stately +piece of furniture and the wall.</p> + +<p class='c005'>It is a sultry evening at dusk. The stones +of Wellington Street are hot and gritty, and +the watermen and hackney-coachmen at +the Theatre opposite, are much flushed and +aggravated. Carriages are constantly setting +down the people who have come to Fairy-Land; +and there is a mighty shouting and +bellowing every now and then, deafening us +for the moment, through the open windows.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Just at dusk, Inspectors Wield and Stalker +are announced; but we do not undertake to +warrant the orthography of any of the names +here mentioned. Inspector Wield presents +Inspector Stalker. Inspector Wield is a +middle-aged man of a portly presence, with +a large, moist, knowing eye, a husky voice, +and a habit of emphasising his conversation +by the aid of a corpulent fore-finger, which is +constantly in juxta-position with his eyes or +nose. Inspector Stalker is a shrewd, hard-headed +Scotchman—in appearance not at all +unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trained schoolmaster, +from the Normal Establishment at +Glasgow. Inspector Wield one might have +known, perhaps, for what he is—Inspector +Stalker, never.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The ceremonies of reception over, Inspectors +Wield and Stalker observe that they have +brought some sergeants with them. The +sergeants are presented—five in number, +Sergeant Dornton, Sergeant Witchem, Sergeant +Mith, Sergeant Fendall, and Sergeant +Straw. We have the whole Detective Force +from Scotland Yard with one exception. They +sit down in a semi-circle (the two Inspectors +at the two ends) at a little distance from the +round table, facing the editorial sofa. Every +<span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>man of them, in a glance, immediately takes +an inventory of the furniture and an accurate +sketch of the editorial presence. The Editor +feels that any gentleman in company could +take him up, if need should be, without the +smallest hesitation, twenty years hence.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The whole party are in plain clothes. +Sergeant Dornton, about fifty years of age, +with a ruddy face and a high sun-burnt forehead, +has the air of one who has been a +Sergeant in the army—he might have sat to +Wilkie for the Soldier in the Reading of the +Will. He is famous for steadily pursuing the +inductive process, and, from small beginnings, +working on from clue to clue until he bags +his man. Sergeant Witchem, shorter and +thicker-set, and marked with the small pox, +has something of a reserved and thoughtful +air, as if he were engaged in deep arithmetical +calculations. He is renowned for his acquaintance +with the swell mob. Sergeant Mith, a +smooth-faced man with a fresh bright complexion, +and a strange air of simplicity, is a +dab at housebreakers. Sergeant Fendall, a +light-haired, well-spoken, polite person, is a +prodigious hand at pursuing private inquiries +of a delicate nature. Straw, a little wiry +Sergeant of meek demeanour and strong +sense, would knock at a door and ask a series +of questions in any mild character you chose +to prescribe to him, from a charity-boy upwards, +and seem as innocent as an infant. +They are, one and all, respectable-looking +men; of perfectly good deportment and +unusual intelligence; with nothing lounging +or slinking in their manners; with an air +of keen observation, and quick perception +when addressed; and generally presenting +in their faces, traces more or less marked +of habitually leading lives of strong mental +excitement. They have all good eyes; and +they all can, and they all do, look full at whomsoever +they speak to.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We light the cigars, and hand round the +glasses (which are very temperately used +indeed), and the conversation begins by a +modest amateur reference on the Editorial +part to the swell mob. Inspector Wield immediately +removes his cigar from his lips, +waves his right hand, and says, “Regarding +the Swell Mob, Sir, I can’t do better than call +upon Sergeant Witchem. Because the reason +why? I’ll tell you. Sergeant Witchem is +better acquainted with the Swell Mob than +any officer in London.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Our heart leaping up when we beheld this +rainbow in the sky, we turn to Sergeant +Witchem, who very concisely, and in well-chosen +language, goes into the subject forthwith. +Meantime, the whole of his brother +officers are closely interested in attending to +what he says, and observing its effect. Presently +they begin to strike in, one or two +together, when an opportunity offers, and +the conversation becomes general. But these +brother officers only come in to the assistance +of each other—not to the contradiction—and +a more amicable brotherhood there could not +be. From the swell mob, we diverge to the +kindred topics of cracksmen, fences, public-house +dancers, area-sneaks, designing young +people who go out “gonophing,” and other +“schools,” to which our readers have already +been introduced. It is observable throughout +these revelations, that Inspector Stalker, the +Scotchman, is always exact and statistical, and +that when any question of figures arises, everybody +as by one consent pauses, and looks to +him.</p> + +<p class='c005'>When we have exhausted the various +schools of Art—during which discussion the +whole body have remained profoundly attentive, +except when some unusual noise at the +Theatre over the way, has induced some +gentleman to glance inquiringly towards the +window in that direction, behind his next +neighbour’s back—we burrow for information +on such points as the following. Whether +there really are any highway robberies in +London, or whether some circumstances not +convenient to be mentioned by the aggrieved +party, usually precede the robberies complained +of, under that head, which quite +change their character? Certainly the latter, +almost always. Whether in the case of robberies +in houses, where servants are necessarily +exposed to doubt, innocence under +suspicion ever becomes so like guilt in appearance, +that a good officer need be cautious +how he judges it? Undoubtedly. Nothing +is so common or deceptive as such appearances +at first. Whether in a place of public amusement, +a thief knows an officer, and an officer +knows a thief,—supposing them, beforehand, +strangers to each other—because each recognises +in the other, under all disguise, an +inattention to what is going on, and a purpose +that is not the purpose of being entertained? +Yes. That’s the way exactly. Whether it +is reasonable or ridiculous to trust to the +alleged experiences of thieves as narrated by +themselves, in prisons, or penitentiaries, or +anywhere? In general, nothing more absurd. +Lying is their habit and their trade; and they +would rather lie—even if they hadn’t an +interest in it, and didn’t want to make themselves +agreeable—than tell the truth.</p> + +<p class='c005'>From these topics, we glide into a review of +the most celebrated and horrible of the great +crimes that have been committed within the +last fifteen or twenty years. The men engaged +in the discovery of almost all of them, +and in the pursuit or apprehension of the +murderers, are here, down to the very last +instance. One of our guests gave chase to +and boarded the Emigrant Ship, in which the +murderess last hanged in London was supposed +to have embarked. We learn from +him that his errand was not announced to +the passengers, who may have no idea of it to +this hour. That he went below, with the +captain, lamp in hand—it being dark, and the +whole steerage abed and seasick—and engaged +the Mrs. Manning who <i>was</i> on board, in a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>conversation about her luggage, until she was, +with no small pains, induced to raise her +head, and turn her face towards the light. +Satisfied that she was not the object of his +search, he quietly re-embarked in the Government +steamer alongside, and steamed home +again with the intelligence.</p> + +<p class='c005'>When we have exhausted these subjects, +too, which occupy a considerable time in the +discussion, two or three leave their chairs, +whisper Sergeant Witchem, and resume their +seats. Sergeant Witchem, leaning forward a +little, and placing a hand on each of his legs, +then modestly speaks as follows:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My brother officers wish me to relate a +little account of my taking Tally-ho Thompson. +A man oughtn’t to tell what he has done +himself; but still, as nobody was with me, and, +consequently, as nobody but myself can tell +it, I’ll do it in the best way I can, if it should +meet your approval.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>We assure Sergeant Witchem that he will +oblige us very much, and we all compose +ourselves to listen with great interest and +attention.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Tally-ho Thompson,” says Sergeant +Witchem, after merely wetting his lips with +his brandy-and-water, “Tally-ho Thompson +was a famous horse-stealer, couper, and magsman. +Thompson, in conjunction with a pal +that occasionally worked with him, gammoned +a countryman out of a good round sum +of money, under pretence of getting him a +situation—the regular old dodge—and was +afterwards in the ‘Hue and Cry’ for a horse—a +horse that he stole, down in Hertfordshire. +I had to look after Thompson, and I +applied myself, of course, in the first instance, +to discovering where he was. Now, Thompson’s +wife lived, along with a little daughter, at +Chelsea. Knowing that Thompson was somewhere +in the country, I watched the house—especially +at post-time in the morning—thinking +Thompson was pretty likely to write to her. +Sure enough, one morning the postman comes +up, and delivers a letter at Mrs. Thompson’s +door. Little girl opens the door, and takes it +in. We’re not always sure of postmen, though +the people at the post-offices are always very +obliging. A postman may help us, or he may +not,—just as it happens. However, I go across +the road, and I say to the postman, after he +has left the letter, ‘Good morning! how are +you?’ ‘How are <i>you</i>?’ says he. ‘You’ve just +delivered a letter for Mrs. Thompson.’ ‘Yes, +I have.’ ‘You didn’t happen to remark what +the post-mark was, perhaps?’ ‘No,’ says he, +‘I didn’t.’ ‘Come,’ says I, ‘I’ll be plain with +you. I’m in a small way of business, and I +have given Thompson credit, and I can’t afford +to lose what he owes me. I know he’s got +money, and I know he’s in the country, and +if you could tell me what the post-mark was, +I should be very much obliged to you, and +you’d do a service to a tradesman in a small +way of business that can’t afford a loss.’ +‘Well,’ he said, ‘I do assure you that I did not +observe what the post-mark was; all I know is, +that there was money in the letter—I should +say a sovereign.’ This was enough for me, because +of course I knew that Thompson having +sent his wife money, it was probable she’d write +to Thompson, by return of post, to acknowledge +the receipt. So I said ‘Thankee’ to the +postman, and I kept on the watch. In the +afternoon I saw the little girl come out. Of +course I followed her. She went into a stationer’s +shop, and I needn’t say to you that I +looked in at the window. She bought some +writing-paper and envelopes, and a pen. I +think to myself, ‘That’ll do!’—watch her +home again—and don’t go away, you may be +sure, knowing that Mrs. Thompson was writing +her letter to Tally-ho, and that the letter +would be posted presently. In about an hour +or so, out came the little girl again, with the +letter in her hand. I went up, and said something +to the child, whatever it might have +been; but I couldn’t see the direction of the +letter, because she held it with the seal upwards. +However, I observed that on the back +of the letter there was what we call a kiss—a +drop of wax by the side of the seal—and again, +you understand, that was enough for me. I +saw her post the letter, waited till she was +gone, then went into the shop, and asked to +see the Master. When he came out, I told +him, ‘Now, I’m an Officer in the Detective +Force; there’s a letter with a kiss been +posted here just now, for a man that I’m in +search of; and what I have to ask of you, is, +that you will let me look at the direction of +that letter.’ He was very civil—took a lot of +letters from the box in the window—shook +’em out on the counter with the faces downwards—and +there among ’em was the identical +letter with the kiss. It was directed, Mr. +Thomas Pigeon, Post-Office, B——, to +be left ’till called for. Down I went to +B—— (a hundred and twenty miles or +so) that night. Early next morning I went +to the Post-Office; saw the gentleman in +charge of that department; told him who +I was; and that my object was to see, and +track, the party that should come for the letter +for Mr. Thomas Pigeon. He was very polite, +and said, ‘You shall have every assistance +we can give you; you can wait inside the +office; and we’ll take care to let you know +when anybody comes for the letter.’ Well, I +waited there, three days, and began to think +that nobody ever <i>would</i> come. At last the +clerk whispered to me, ‘Here! Detective! +Somebody’s come for the letter!’ ‘Keep him +a minute,’ said I, and I ran round to the outside +of the office. There I saw a young chap +with the appearance of an Ostler, holding a +horse by the bridle—stretching the bridle +across the pavement, while he waited at the +Post-Office Window for the letter. I began +to pat the horse, and that; and I said to the +boy, ‘Why, this is Mr. Jones’s Mare!’ ‘No. +It an’t.’ ‘No?’ said I. ‘She’s very like Mr. +Jones’s Mare!’ ‘She an’t Mr. Jones’s Mare, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>anyhow,’ says he. ‘It’s Mr. So-and-So’s, +of the Warwick Arms.’ And up he jumped, +and off he went—letter and all. I got a cab, +followed on the box, and was so quick after +him that I came into the stable-yard of the +Warwick Arms, by one gate, just as he came +in by another. I went into the bar, where +there was a young woman serving, and called +for a glass of brandy-and-water. He came in +directly, and handed her the letter. She +casually looked at it, without saying anything, +and stuck it up behind the glass over the +chimney-piece. What was to be done next?</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I turned it over in my mind while I drank +my brandy-and-water (looking pretty sharp +at the letter the while), but I couldn’t see +my way out of it at all. I tried to get +lodgings in the house, but there had been a +horse-fair, or something of that sort, and it +was full. I was obliged to put up somewhere +else, but I came backwards and forwards to +the bar for a couple of days, and there was +the letter, always behind the glass. At last I +thought I’d write a letter to Mr. Pigeon myself, +and see what that would do. So I wrote +one, and posted it, but I purposely addressed it, +Mr. John Pigeon, instead of Mr. Thomas Pigeon, +to see what <i>that</i> would do. In the morning +(a very wet morning it was) I watched the +postman down the street, and cut into the bar, +just before he reached the Warwick Arms. +In he came presently with my letter. ‘Is +there a Mr. John Pigeon staying here?’ +‘No!—stop a bit though,’ says the barmaid; +and she took down the letter behind the glass. +‘No,’ says she, ‘it’s Thomas, and <i>he</i> is not +staying here. Would you do me a favor, and +post this for me, as it is so wet?’ The postman +said Yes; she folded it in another envelope, +directed it, and gave it him. He put +it in his hat, and away he went.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I had no difficulty in finding out the +direction of that letter. It was addressed, +Mr. Thomas Pigeon, Post-Office, R——, Northamptonshire, +to be left till called for. Off I +started directly for R——; I said the same +at the Post-Office there, as I had said at +B——; and again I waited three days +before anybody came. At last another chap +on horseback came. ‘Any letters for Mr. +Thomas Pigeon?’ ‘Where do you come +from?’ ‘New Inn, near R——.’ He got +the letter, and away <i>he</i> went—at a canter.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I made my enquiries about the New Inn, +near R——, and hearing it was a solitary sort +of house, a little in the horse line, about a +couple of miles from the station, I thought +I’d go and have a look at it. I found it what +it had been described, and sauntered in, to +look about me. The landlady was in the bar, +and I was trying to get into conversation with +her; asked her how business was, and spoke +about the wet weather, and so on; when I +saw, through an open door, three men sitting +by the fire in a sort of parlor, or kitchen; and +one of those men, according to the description +I had of him, was Tally-ho Thompson!</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I went and sat down among ’em, and +tried to make things agreeable; but they were +very shy—wouldn’t talk at all—looked at +me, and at one another, in a way quite the +reverse of sociable. I reckoned ’em up, and +finding that they were all three bigger men +than me, and considering that their looks +were ugly—that it was a lonely place—railroad +station two miles off—and night coming +on—thought I couldn’t do better than have a +drop of brandy-and-water to keep my courage +up. So I called for my brandy-and-water; +and as I was sitting drinking it by the fire, +Thompson got up and went out.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Now the difficulty of it was, that I wasn’t +sure it <i>was</i> Thompson, because I had never set +eyes on him before; and what I had wanted +was to be quite certain of him. However, +there was nothing for it now, but to follow, +and put a bold face upon it. I found him +talking, outside in the yard, with the landlady. +It turned out afterwards, that he was +wanted by a Northampton officer for something +else, and that, knowing that officer to +be pock-marked (as I am myself), he mistook +me for him. As I have observed, I found +him talking to the landlady, outside. I put +my hand upon his shoulder—this way—and +said, ‘Tally-ho Thompson, it’s no use. I know +you. I’m an officer from London, and I take +you into custody for felony!’ ‘That be +d—d!’ says Tally-ho Thompson.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“We went back into the house, and the +two friends began to cut up rough, and their +looks didn’t please me at all, I assure you. +‘Let the man go. What are you going to do +with him?’ ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going +to do with him. I’m going to take him to +London to-night, as sure as I’m alive. I’m +not alone here, whatever you may think. +You mind your own business, and keep yourselves +to yourselves. It’ll be better for you, +for I know you both very well.’ <i>I</i>‘d never +seen or heard of ’em in all my life, but my +bouncing cowed ’em a bit, and they kept off, +while Thompson was making ready to go. I +thought to myself, however, that they might +be coming after me on the dark road, to rescue +Thompson; so I said to the landlady, ‘What +men have you got in the house, Missis?’ ‘We +haven’t got no men here,’ she says, sulkily. +‘You have got an ostler, I suppose?’ ‘Yes, +we’ve got an ostler.’ ‘Let me see him.’ +Presently he came, and a shaggy-headed +young fellow he was. ‘Now attend to me, +young man,’ says I; ‘I’m a Detective Officer +from London. This man’s name is Thompson. +I have taken him into custody for felony. I’m +going to take him to the railroad station. I call +upon you in the Queen’s name to assist me; +and mind you, my friend, you’ll get yourself +into more trouble than you know of, if you +don’t!’ You never saw a person open his eyes +so wide. ‘Now, Thompson, come along!’ says +I. But when I took out the handcuffs, Thompson +cries, ‘No! None of that! I won’t stand +<i>them</i>! I’ll go along with you quiet, but I won’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>bear none of that!’ ‘Tally-ho Thompson,’ +I said, ‘I’m willing to behave as a man to +you, if you are willing to behave as a man to +me. Give me your word that you’ll come +peaceably along, and I don’t want to handcuff +you.’ ‘I will,’ says Thompson, ‘but I’ll have +a glass of brandy first.’ ‘I don’t care if I’ve +another,’ said I. ‘We’ll have two more, +Missis,’ said the friends, ‘and con-found you, +Constable, you’ll give your man a drop, won’t +you?’ I was agreeable to that, so we had it +all round, and then my man and I took +Tally-ho Thompson safe to the railroad, and I +carried him to London that night. He was +afterwards acquitted, on account of a defect +in the evidence; and I understand he always +praises me up to the skies, and says I’m one +of the best of men.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>This story coming to a termination amidst +general applause, Inspector Wield, after a little +grave smoking, fixes his eye on his host, and +thus delivers himself:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“It wasn’t a bad plant that of mine, on +Fikey, the man accused of forging the Sou’ +Western Railway debentures—it was only +t’other day—because the reason why? I’ll +tell you.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I had information that Fikey and his +brother kept a factory over yonder there,” +indicating any region on the Surrey side of +the river, “where he bought second-hand carriages; +so after I’d tried in vain to get hold +of him by other means, I wrote him a letter +in an assumed name, saying that I’d got a +horse and shay to dispose of, and would drive +down next day, that he might view the lot, +and make an offer—very reasonable it was, I +said—a reg’lar bargain. Straw and me then +went off to a friend of mine that’s in the +livery and job business, and hired a turn-out +for the day, a precious smart turn-out, it was—quite +a slap-up thing! Down we drove, +accordingly, with a friend (who’s not in the +Force himself); and leaving my friend in the +shay near a public-house, to take care of the +horse, we went to the factory, which was some +little way off. In the factory, there was a +number of strong fellows at work, and after +reckoning ’em up, it was clear to me that it +wouldn’t do to try it on there. They were +too many for us. We must get our man out +of doors. ‘Mr. Fikey at home?’ ‘No, he +ain’t.’ ‘Expected home soon?’ ‘Why, no, +not soon.’ ‘Ah! is his brother here?’ ‘<i>I</i>’m +his brother.’ ‘Oh! well, this is an ill-conwenience, +this is. I wrote him a letter yesterday, +saying I’d got a little turn-out to dispose +of, and I’ve took the trouble to bring the +turn-out down, a’ purpose, and now he ain’t +in the way.’ ‘No, he an’t in the way. You +couldn’t make it convenient to call again, could +you?’ ‘Why, no, I couldn’t. I want to sell; +that’s the fact; and I can’t put it off. Could +you find him anywheres?’ At first he said +No, he couldn’t, and then he wasn’t sure +about it, and then he’d go and try. So, at +last he went up-stairs, where there was a sort +of loft, and presently down comes my man +himself, in his shirt sleeves.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“‘Well,’ he says, ‘this seems to be rayther +a pressing matter of yours.’ ‘Yes,’ I says, ‘it +<i>is</i> rayther a pressing matter, and you’ll find it +a bargain—dirt-cheap.’ ‘I ain’t in partickler +want of a bargain just now,’ he says, ‘but +where is it!’ ‘Why,’ I says, ‘the turn-out’s +just outside. Come and look at it.’ He +hasn’t any suspicions, and away we go. And +the first thing that happens is, that the +horse runs away with my friend (who knows +no more of driving than a child) when he +takes a little trot along the road to show +his paces. You never saw such a game in +your life!</p> + +<p class='c005'>“When the bolt is over, and the turn-out has +come to a stand-still again, Fikey walks round +and round it, as grave as a judge—me too. +‘There, Sir!’ I says. ‘There’s a neat thing!’ +‘It an’t a bad style of thing,’ he says. ‘I +believe you,’ says I. ‘And there’s a horse!’—for +I saw him looking at it. ‘Rising eight!’ +I says, rubbing his fore-legs. (Bless you, +there an’t a man in the world knows less of +horses than I do, but I’d heard my friend at +the Livery Stables say he was eight year old, +so I says, as knowing as possible, ‘Rising +Eight.’) ‘Rising eight, is he?’ says he. +‘Rising eight,’ says I. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘what +do you want for it?’ ‘Why, the first and last +figure for the whole concern is five-and-twenty +pound!’ ‘That’s very cheap!’ he says, looking +at me. ‘An’t it?’ I says. ‘I told you it +was a bargain! Now, without any higgling +and haggling about it, what I want is to sell, +and that’s my price. Further, I’ll make it +easy to you, and take half the money down, +and you can do a bit of stiff<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c006'><sup>[1]</sup></a> for the balance.’ +‘Well,’ he says again, ‘that’s very cheap.’ +‘I believe you,’ says I; ‘get in and try it, and +you’ll buy it. Come! take a trial!’</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f1'> +<p class='c005'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Give a bill.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c005'>“Ecod, he gets in, and we get in, and we +drive along the road, to show him to one of +the railway clerks that was hid in the public-house +window to identify him. But the clerk +was bothered, and didn’t know whether it +was him, or wasn’t—because the reason why? +I’ll tell you,—on account of his having shaved +his whiskers. ‘It’s a clever little horse,’ he +says, ‘and trots well; and the shay runs +light.’ ‘Not a doubt about it,’ I says. ‘And +now, Mr. Fikey, I may as well make it all +right, without wasting any more of your time. +The fact is, I’m Inspector Wield, and you’re +my prisoner.’ ‘You don’t mean that?’ he +says. ‘I do, indeed.’ ‘Then burn my body,’ +says Fikey, ‘if this ain’t <i>too</i> bad!’</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Perhaps you never saw a man so knocked +over with surprise. ‘I hope you’ll let me +have my coat?’ he says. ‘By all means.’ +‘Well, then, let’s drive to the factory.’ +‘Why, not exactly that, I think,’ said I; +‘I’ve been there, once before, to-day. Suppose +we send for it,’ He saw it was no go, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>so he sent for it, and put it on, and we drove +him up to London, comfortable.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>This reminiscence is in the height of its +success, when a general proposal is made to +the fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, +with the strange air of simplicity, to tell the +“Butcher’s story.” But we must reserve the +Butcher’s story, together with another not +less curious in its way, for a concluding paper.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>“SWINGING THE SHIP.”<br> <span class='c007'>A VISIT TO THE COMPASS OBSERVATORY.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c004'>The noble ship with her floating battery of +heavy guns, her hundreds of seamen, smart +and brave, her powder, shot, and shell for +destroying an enemy, and her tons of provender +to supply her crew; with her anxious +captain and aspiring lieutenants, mates, +middys, warrant officers, and her pipeclayed +marines are on board. The long pennon whips +the winds; the hurry, bustle, and noise of +preparation has subsided into the quietude of +everything in its place; when the word passes +that she is “Ready for Sea.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Next morning the newspapers find just +a line and a half in their naval corner for +the announcement,—“Her Majesty’s ship +Unutterable, 120 guns, went out of harbour +yesterday. After she has been swung, and +had her compasses adjusted, she will sail for +the Pacific.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“<i>Swing</i> a hundred and twenty gun ship?” +says the good citizen interrogatively to himself, +as he devours his coffee and his newspaper at +breakfast. He pays his taxes and is proud of +Britannia and the British navy, but his admiration +of the nautical does not help him to a +solution. “After she has been swung!” he +repeats, and then more immediate affairs draw +off his attention, and he leaves the Unutterable +to undergo the mysterious. He turns to the +debates.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Naval officers are of course more wise on +the point, and some of them have more +knowledge of the operation than liking for it. +It’s apt to spoil the paint now and then, and +gives trouble, and upsets some of their arrangements. +Many, it must be confessed, have +more experience than science in their composition, +and when they let out their true +feeling, indulge, perhaps, in a half growl, in +which the words “new-fangled” and “deal of +trouble” might be heard. But the operation +goes on nevertheless, and little doubt but the +toil is forgotten and the growl repented when—far, +far at sea, a murky sky shuts out the +sun and the stars, and forbids heaven to tell +the navigator where he is—with a waste of +waters, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles +around him, he has nought but his figures and +his little trembling needles of magnetised iron +to guide him on his way; to direct him wide +of the sunken rock and the sandy shoal as he +nears the wished-for coast.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The loss of British ships by wreck has been +stated at between five and six hundred in a +year—or about “a ship and a half-a-day.” +This terrible loss has been ascribed to many +causes—to the tides and currents of the ocean; +to imperfect logs; inaccurate charts; unsteady +steerage; inattention to the lead; stress of +weather; defective ships, and defective +management; but last, if not greatest, says +Captain Johnson, who gives this catalogue of +sources of disaster, we have the errors of the +compass. These errors were noticed—now +nearly a couple of centuries ago, and from +those days to the present time careful mariners +have often called attention to the subject. +“Officers in charge of convoys during the +war,” continues Captain Johnson, “will probably +remember the care with which the +general signal was displayed at sunset, to +steer a given course during the night,” with +what alacrity that signal was repeated by the +ships of war in their stations, and answered +by every merchant-vessel in the fleet; and +they will also possibly remember with what +surprise,—nay, indignation,—they observed +when daylight came, almost the entire convoy +dispersed over the ocean as far as the eye +could reach, and mayhap a suspicious looking +stranger or two escorting those farthest away, +further astray, in despite of all the shots fired +during a morning watch to recall them. That +such dispersements were in part attributable +to the differences of the compasses in each +ship, there can be no doubt; but the greatest +delinquents in this particular, in all probability, +were not the merchant vessels, but +rather the ships of war; <i>the attractive power +of their guns upon the compasses</i> being now a +well-known and constantly proved fact.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The Apollo frigate, and forty merchantmen +of her convoy, in 1803 were wrecked together +on the coast of Portugal, when they believed +themselves to be two hundred miles to the +westward. The error of the frigate’s compasses +is believed to have been the cause of the +disaster; and a similar belief exists with +respect to the dreadful wrecks of our line of battle +ships on the coasts of Jutland and +Holland in 1811. The wreck of the Reliance, +Indiaman, on the coast of France, when one +hundred and nine lives were lost, in 1842, is +another painful accident ascribed to errors of +the compasses induced by the presence on +board of a large iron tank forty-six feet long, +the attraction of which had been overlooked—for +a hollow tank has a magnetic influence +as great as a solid mass of the same external +dimensions—and such a mass would weigh +four hundred and sixty-eight tons.</p> + +<p class='c005'>These errors in the needle that guides the +ship, so dangerous in their results, at last attracted +official attention in England. Inquiries +were extended in various directions, and it +was found that “in some ships the deviation +was small; in others it was large enough to +cause the loss of a ship, even during a short +run; whilst in others, again, from the position +of some iron stancheon, bolt or bar, or stand +<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>of arms, the error might be changed in the +opposite direction; so that the deviation in +one vessel was not a guide to its amount or +direction in another; and that there was no +other remedy but ascertaining the fact by +direct experiment in each ship.” These facts +were recognised by a committee of English +officers, appointed to investigate the matter, +one of whom was the Captain Johnson whom +we have already quoted, and of whose subsequent +labours we shall have further presently +to speak.</p> + +<p class='c005'>With these words of explanatory preface, +let us set out on a visit to the establishment +where the dangers of those afloat are sought +to be lessened by scientific investigations on +shore.</p> + +<p class='c005'>About two miles and a half eastwards from +the Greenwich Observatory, in the picturesque +parish of Charlton, and on the extreme corner +of the high land that runs from Blackheath, +till it juts out close upon the banks of the +Thames—stands the building we are in +search of. Those who may try to discover it +will probably find some little difficulty in the +task, for the place is unpretending in outward +aspect, and is little known in the neighbourhood; +has never before been publicly described—except, +perhaps, in those unread publications +called Blue Books, and in the technical +volume of the naval officer who has charge of +this sanctum of science.</p> + +<p class='c005'>It is called the Compass Observatory; and +its locality may probably be more completely +indicated by saying that it is not very distant +from, though on a far higher level than that +corner of the Woolwich Dockyard whence the +great chimney soars up like a rival monument +to that on Fish Street Hill, and where the +engine that sets the Dockyard Machines in +motion hums like a bee of forty-horse power. +When the place is reached, those who expect +to see “a public building,” will be disappointed; +those who like to find that Science +may abide in small and humble places, +will be pleased. A long strip of newly-reclaimed +land, a detached brick house, and in +its rear, an octagonal wooden structure of +little greater outward pretensions than a +citizen’s “summer house,” make up the whole +establishment.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Passing under the pleasant shade of two +fine oak trees, and then between a collection +of very promising roses, we enter the +house. Once inside, we see that the spirit of +order, regularity, and neatness, is there +paramount. The exactitude requisite for +scientific observation, gives a habit of exactness +in other things. In one room we perceive +a galvanic battery ready for experiments; a +disc of iron for showing a now defunct mode +of steadying the vibrations of the compass; a +specimen of the mixed iron and wood braced +together as they are now employed in the +construction of first-class ships of the Royal +Navy, like the Queen’s Yacht; and more, +interesting than all the rest, a copper bowl, +contrived by Arago, for stilling the irritability +(so to speak) of the magnetic needle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The French astronomer and ex-minister of +the Provisional Government here claims our +admiration of his scientific skill, and his work +suggests the reflexion how much more pleasant +the calm pursuit of nature’s laws must +be to such a man, than the turbulent effort +to enact rules and constitutions for an impetuous +and changeable people. Passing from +this room to another, we find books, and +charts, and maps, on which are laid down the +magnetic currents over the great oceans, and +amongst its instrumental relics, a magnetic +needle that belonged to poor Captain Cook. +It is a plain small bar of steel in a rough +wooden case, but to the mariner who loves +his craft and its heroes, this morsel of iron +has an interest greater than the most perfect +of nautical inventions—for Cook was a seaman +who achieved great ends with humble means +and from humble beginnings. A third room +is full of compasses of all sorts, sizes, and +kinds, from China, from Denmark, from +France; from the most rude and simple, to +the most complex and finished. All the +schemes and plans ever proposed for improving +this useful invention are here preserved. +Many of the contrivances have been +discovered more than once. A sanguine +theorist completes what to him is perfectly +new. Certain that he is to be immortalised +and enriched, he sets off to the Observatory +with his treasure, to reveal his grand secret, +and receive the anticipated reward. He is +shown into the compass-room, and there,—horror +of horrors,—upon the table, amidst a +host of others, there is an old discarded +instrument the very counterpart of his own! +It was made, and tried, and discarded, years +ago.</p> + +<p class='c005'>From the main brick building we pass +through another line of roses, and under a +bower, boasting some fifty different varieties +of that charming flower, to the wooden +structure in the rear, which is, in fact, the +Observatory.</p> + +<p class='c005'>This building is entirely free from iron. +It is approached by stone steps; the door has +a pure copper lock, which being opened by a +copper key, swings on copper hinges to admit +the visitor after he has first cleared the dirt +from his shoes upon a copper scraper. Nearly +facing the door is a stove to keep up the +temperature in cold weather. It looks black +enough, and has a black funnel. When the +visitor is told that Captain Johnson has his +coat-buttons carefully made without any iron +shank concealed under their silken cover; +and that his assistant, Mr. Brunton, repudiates +buttons to his jacket altogether, and has +pockets guiltless of a knife; he is apt to turn +to the stove, and hint the presence there of +the forbidden metal.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Ah, ah!” is the reply, it looks like iron +sure enough; but the fireplace, the chimney, +the poker, the shovel, are all alike. Nothing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span>but copper, copper, pure copper. This suggests +an anecdote. When the operations in +this Compass Observatory were first commenced, +there was found to be a small variation +in the magnet. The instruments were readjusted; +their character was investigated, their +construction re-examined; other observations +were made—but still the variation continued. +Pockets were searched for knives; the garden +looked over to see that no stray spade or +rake had been left outside the building, yet +near enough for mischief. Nothing could be +discovered. At length the <i>brass</i> bolt on the +window was suspected; and though brass had +a good character, not being thought capable +of coaxing the magnet from its truth, it was, +in despair of finding any other delinquent, +unscrewed from its position. No sooner was +this done, than the wayward needle returned +to its true position; the brass bolt was +ejected in disgrace, and no morsel of the +brazen metal has since been allowed to show +itself within the precincts of the building +sacred to the mysterious fluid that draws the +iron needle to the North.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Once inside the Observatory, the first impression +is one of isolation and quietude. +Look up to the wooden roof, and you see two +shutters, to be opened when an observation is +to be made upon a star. Through the floor +rise three pedestals of masonry, built solidly +from the earth, and isolated from the Observatory +floor, so that no vibration may be communicated +to them. All three stand in a row, +running north and south. The object of two +of them is to support with complete steadiness +and truth two instruments for determining, +at any moment of time, the exact magnetic +north, whilst the third pedestal holds one by +one the compasses brought there to be tested. +The most northern of these three narrow +stone tables is, in fact, a bed of trial—a place +of ordeal—whilst the other two support the +instrumental judges, who are to pass sentence +upon the fluttering needles brought +under their unyielding gaze. The test is a +severe one. It is easy, with proper means, to +get the true magnetic north with a fixed +instrument on shore, but to make something +that shall tell it with equal truth upon the +deck of a ship, as it heaves and tosses, and +plunges on the sea, is a very different thing. +Yet, instruments equal to such triumphs of +skill are obtained, and in this place it is that +their qualities are first investigated. The +south pedestal has upon it a tall tube of glass, +within which there hang some long fibres of +untwisted silk, supporting a magnetic tube so +beautifully poised, that it obeys without let +or hindrance its natural tendency towards +the magnetic north. This tubular magnet +has at one end a glass on which a scale +and figures are engraved, but so fine and +small as to be with difficulty seen by the naked +eye. The second pedestal supports a telescope, +with which the observer looks down +the tubular throat of the magnet towards this +tiny scale on the glass at its extremity. Our +friends, the “spiders,” have contributed some +lines to the telescope, and the centre one of +these crosses the exact figure showing the +magnetic position at the moment.</p> + +<p class='c005'>With this figure in his mind, the telescope +and the observer’s eye are poised in the +opposite direction, through the window of +the Observatory, towards a spot some half +mile to the north, called Cox’s Mount; an +eminence on which a wall has been raised to +bear a numbered scale similar to that on the +magnet—with this difference—that the one is +very minute, and the other very large. To +the corresponding figure on the distant wall +the instrument is directed, and being thus +pointed towards the true magnetic north, it is +brought to bear upon the pivot of the compass—which +by this time occupies a place on the +top of the third pedestal to be tested. Without +a complex description, and the free use of +scientific terms, it would be perhaps impossible +to convey a thoroughly exact conception of the +steps of the whole process. Such a detail would +be not only too technical, but unnecessary, +here. It will be enough in general terms to +say, therefore, that the indication obtained +from a star, or from the instrument on the +south pedestal, called the collimator, is, by +means of the instrument in the centre, combined +with a mark upon a distant object, and +then brought down to prove the true powers +of the compass placed on the third pedestal. +It is a beautifully exact operation. The +silence of isolation, the steadiness of stone +tables and practised operators, the most beautifully +constructed instruments, are combined +to ensure accurate realities as a result. The +tests are so varied, and so often repeated, that +no error can escape, and the compass, when it +leaves the building to begin its adventures +afloat, commences its career with an irreproachable +character as a Standard Compass +of the Royal Navy—to be, on board the ship +of war to which it is sent, a kind of master +instrument of reference, by which ruder and +cheaper compasses may be checked and regulated.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Just as the history of the stars and of the +variations of the magnet is registered and +posted up at the Greenwich Observatory, so is +that of the compasses entered up here. Every +compass that passes its examination may be +said to receive its commission, and be appointed +to a ship. Its number is taken; its vessel +and destination are noted, and, subsequently, +its length of service. On its return home from +successive trips, it comes back to this place, +when its character is again investigated and +note made of any loss of magnetic power, of +any deviations it may have exhibited, how it +may have lost and how gained, and of any +other circumstances showing either improvement +or deterioration. Now and then one is +blacklisted, but this seldom happens; the +greatest loss yet noted being 30 minutes. The +Standard Compasses cost, when made new, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_417'>417</span>with tripod and all complete, 25<i>l.</i> each. After +they have been some years in service afloat, +they are sent into hospital for overhaul and +repair. This costs generally 4<i>l.</i> or 5<i>l.</i>, and +they are then again as good as ever, and ready +to guide another ship on her way over the +mighty waters. The scientific part of the +fittings of a ship of war, though of greatest +value, are thus of lowest cost. A Standard +Compass is, indeed, a beautiful result of human +ingenuity. Generations of seamen and men +of science have discussed the best form and +materials, and the best mode of suspending +the needle, that it may most freely and truly +follow its mysterious love for the north. From +the days of the old adventurers round the +globe, to the date of the last voyages to the +Arctic regions, successive sea captains have +thought, and watched, and suggested, and the +Standard Compass of the English Navy combines, +it is believed, all that is best in all their +thinking. After the Observatory was established, +and one of its duties had been defined +to be to pursue investigations on the deviation +of the needle, it was thought desirable to have +specimens of the instruments used in the war +ships of other naval nations. With the open +liberality that unites in brotherhood the scientific +men of all countries, France and +Denmark sent specimens of what their best +men had succeeded in perfecting for the use +of their navies. These instruments are very +good, and attract deserved attention in the +observatory-collection of specimens. The +Frenchman is scientific, simple, and with an +excellent contrivance for a moveable agate +plane to avoid friction in the motion of the +needle. The Dane is a good substantial instrument, +even more excellently finished than +the compasses issued to our navy.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The English Compass is, however, believed +with good reason to be the best yet contrived. +It has grown up to its present excellence by +slow degrees. Human ingenuity has been +taxed to its utmost, and it has passed to its +present perfection through the various trials +of needles of all sorts of shapes swung in all +sorts of ways, and by springs, and floating +cards, modifying the instrument to the varying +conditions of a small boat tossing on waves, +or a line of battle ship jarring under the +recoil of a broadside. And now we find our +Compass-needle made of iron that, being got +from the Swedish mines, has travelled to +Strasbourg to be prepared for clock springs; +thence to Paris, to be still more highly +wrought by the watchmaker; and then to +London, to take its sea-going shape. Four +bars of this choice metal, or of shear-steel of +equally fine quality, are ranged edgewise +under a card, thickened and stiffened yet +kept transparent by a sheet of mica, brought +from the Russian mines; this card moves +upon a point made of a metal harder than +steel, and incapable of corrosion; and which +sometimes, under the name of Iridium, but +more correctly under that of “native alloy,” +is found by the refiners as they smelt the +platinum and silver gained from the Ural +Mountains or the mines of Spain. The +Iridium or alloy comes to the workshop +in the tiniest of glass bottles—bottles as +small round as a goose-quill, and about +an inch long—in morsels not much bigger +than a pin’s head, and weighing each less +than half a grain. Some of these prove +too soft, some too spongy, some too brittle, +but at last one is found hard and good, and +it is soldered upon the pivot, that, when +sharpened and polished, is to work upon a +cap, formed of a ruby, brought from the +East. A bowl of the metal suggested by +the French philosopher being prepared, from +the produce of the mines of Cornwall; and +the science of the English philosopher, and +the skill of the English workman, having +brought all these things into their proper +shape and places; we have, as the result, the +Standard Compass, whose fitness to guide her +Majesty’s ship the Unutterable, we have just +seen tested by Captain Johnson at the Woolwich +Compass Observatory.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Our favourite newspaper has just stated +that that gallant ship “is now at Greenhithe +waiting to have her compasses adjusted.” So, +then, the instruments so accurate at the +Observatory a few days ago, are all wrong +again on shipboard. Just so. The moment +they get to their places afloat, their fidelity +to the north wavers,—in one ship more, +in another less; but in all in a greater or +smaller degree in proportion to the quantity +of iron used in the construction of the vessel, +and the nearness of that metal to the compasses; +in proportion to the number of the +iron guns and the total weight of metal +carried; to the length of the funnel in steamships, +and to the condition of that funnel +whether upright or hauled down. All this +is both new and strange enough. We have +learnt already what loss of ships convoyed +and ships wrecked has arisen from these +deviations: deviations long neglected on +board all vessels and to this hour unrecognised +or unattended to in our mercantile +marine! Since the Royal Navy, however, +has a scientific officer, Captain Johnson, especially +employed in attending to the important +duty of adjusting the compasses: let +us go with him and his assistant, Mr. Brunton, +from the Compass Observatory to the +anchorage at Greenhithe, and see how he +will “swing” the gallant line of battle ship, +the Unutterable.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The trip occupies a very short time, for we +have steam at command. Arrived in the +Reach, we find five floating buoys anchored in +the stream, one forming a centre, and four +being disposed at equal distances about it, +just as the five pips are placed upon a card—say +the five of spades. The good ship to be +operated upon is already fast by the head to +the centre buoy, and Captain Johnson having +mounted her deck, and his assistant, Mr. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_418'>418</span>Brunton, having been rowed ashore, a rope is +run out from the ship’s stern and made fast to +one of the corner buoys. The Standard Compass +being fixed in the proper position which +it is to occupy in the ship, neither too high nor +too low, and the guns and other iron being +round about it, as they are to remain during +the voyage, the mooring ropes are adjusted, +and the ship’s head is put due north. Meanwhile, +Mr. Brunton has set up a compass +ashore, and all being ready, Captain Johnson, +at a given moment, observes the bearing of +a distant object—the Tower at Shooter’s Hill—noting +the bearing of the needle on board. +At that instant the pennant that floated at +the mast-head is hauled down from the truck. +This being the concerted signal, at the same +second of time the assistant ashore observed +the needle of his compass. The two instruments +vary, and the deviation of that on +board, compared with that ashore, is due to +the iron of the ship. The stern ropes are +hauled from one buoy to another, and again +made fast, the ship’s head now pointing +in another direction. The observations and +the signals are repeated. Each deviation of the +ship’s compass is carefully noted upon a card +previously prepared for the purpose. The +ship’s stern is then hauled round to the third +outside buoy, and the compasses being again +examined, she is next hauled round to the +fourth buoy. Her head by this time has been +north, east, south, west; on each point the +deviations of her compasses have been tested, +noted, and the card shows their character and +proper adjustment. <i>The ship has been swung.</i> +Science has done its best for her, and the +word is given to heave anchor, for she is now +truly “Ready for Sea.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>AN EXPLORING ADVENTURE.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c004'>The Litany of a Bushman on the Borders +might well run, “From native dogs, from +scabby sheep, from blacks, from droughts, +from governors’ proclamations, good Lord, +deliver us.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>The droughts come in their appointed +season, and the day will be, when wells +and tanks and aqueducts will redeem many +a part from the curse of periodical barrenness: +the blacks soon tame or fade before +the white man’s face; unfortunately the +seat of the native dogs, and home-bred or +town-bred governing crotchets are more plentiful +in long settled than new found countries. +At any rate, I have experienced them all, +and now give the following passage of my +life for the benefit of the gentlemen “who +live at home at ease,” hatching theories for +our good—Heaven help their silliness!</p> + +<p class='c005'>I had been two years comfortably settled +with a nice lot of cattle and sheep, part my +own, part on “thirds,” when the people +south of me began to complain of drought. +<i>I</i> had enough feed and water; the question +was, whether it would last.</p> + +<p class='c005'>I called my bullock-driver, Bald-faced +Dick, into consultation. He was laid up at +the time with a broken leg. Dick strongly +advised looking for a new station “to the +nor’ard.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>The sheep would do for months, but he +thought we were overstocked with cattle. I +had a good deal of confidence in Dick’s +judgment; for he was a “first fleeter,” that +is, came over with Governor Phillips in the +first fleet; had seen everything in the colony, +both good and bad; had, it was whispered, +in early years fled from a flogging master, and +lived, some said, with the blacks; others +averred with a party of Gully-rakers (cattle-stealers); +he swore horridly, was dangerous +when he had drunk too much rum, but was a +thorough Bushman; by the stars, or by sun, +and the fall of the land, could find his way +anywhere by day or night, understood all +kinds of stock, and could make bullocks understand +him. He knew every roving character +in the colony, the quality of every station, and +more about the far interior than he chose to +tell to every one. With all his coarseness, he +was generous and good-natured, and when +well paid, and fairly and strictly treated, stood +upon “Bush honour,” and could be thoroughly +depended on.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Having had an opportunity of serving him +in a rather serious matter previous to his +entering my service, I was pretty sure of his +best advice.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The end of it was, for a promise of five +pounds he obtained from a friend of his a description +of a country hitherto unsettled, and +first-rate for cattle. These men, who can +neither read nor write, have often a talent for +description, which is astonishing.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Having heard a minute detail of the +“pack,” and studied a sort of map drawn on +the lid of a tea-chest with a burned stick, I +decided on exploring with my overseer, Jem +Carden, and, if successful, returning for the +cattle and drags, all loaded for founding a +station.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We only took our guns and tomahawks, +with tea, sugar, a salt tongue, and small +damper ready baked, being determined to +make long marches, starting early, camping +at mid-day, and marching again in the evening +as long as it was light.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Our first stage was only twenty-five miles to +young Marson’s cattle-station. Marson was a +cadet, of a noble family, and having been too +fast at home and in India as a cavalry subaltern, +had been sent out with a fair capital +to Australia, under the idea that a fortune +was to be had for asking, and no means of +expense open in the Bush. What money he +did not leave in the bars and billiard rooms of +Sydney, he invested in a herd of six hundred +cattle; to look after these, he had four men, +whom he engaged, one because he could fight, +another because he could sing, and all because +they flattered him. With these fellows he +lived upon terms of perfect equality, with a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_419'>419</span>keg of rum continually on the tap. Then, for +want of better society, he made his hut the +rendezvous of a tribe of tame blacks.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We found him sitting on the floor in a pair +of trowsers and ragged shirt, unwashed, uncombed, +pale-faced and red-eyed, surrounded +by half-a-dozen black gins (his sultanas), a lot +of dogs, poultry, a tame kangaroo, and two of +his men. The floor was littered with quart +pots, lumps of fat, and damper outside the +hut; the relations of the black ladies had +made a fire, and were cooking a piece of a +fine young heifer. What with the jabbering +of the gins, the singing and swearing of the +men, and the yelping of the dogs, it was no +place for a quiet meal, so we only stayed long +enough to drink a pot of tea, so as not to +offend, and passed on to camp an hour under +the shade of a thicket near the river.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Marson having, with the assistance of his +black friends, consumed all his stock, has +returned home; and, I hear, asserts everywhere +that Australia is not a country a +gentleman can live in.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Our course next, after crossing the dividing +range, lay over a very flat country, all burned +up as far as the eye could reach,—a perfect +desert of sand. The chain of pools which +formed the river after rain, were nearly choked +up by the putrifying carcases of cattle, +smothered in fighting for water. The air was +poisonous; the horses sank fetlock-deep at +every stride; the blazing sun was reflected +back from the hot sand with an intensity that +almost blinded our half-shut eyes. After +three hours of this misery, we struck into a +better country, and soon after came up to the +camp of a squatter, who had been forced +forward by the drought. He had marked +out about twenty miles along the river for his +run,—a pretty good slice, I thought, when, +before turning back, he said, “That is all I +want.” It was no business of ours, as we +had views further a-field. For three days we +pushed on, making from thirty to forty miles +a day, without seeing anything exactly to our +mind. We rode over arid plains, dotted with +scrubby brushwood, then up precipitous hills; +now leaping, now clambering down and up, +and now riding round to avoid dry gullies +and ravines; passing occasionally breaks of +green pasture, but insufficiently watered for +my purpose. Sometimes our way lay along +mountain sides, sometimes in the dry bed of +a torrent. Sometimes huge boulders interrupted +our course, sometimes the gigantic +trunks of fallen trees. More than once we +had to steer through a forest of the monotonous, +shadeless gum, with its lofty, dazzlingly +white trunks festooned with the brown, curly +bark of the previous year, and its parasol-like +but shadeless branches, where crimson, +green, and snowy parrot tribes shrieked and +whistled among the evergreen leaves. It is +impossible to conceive anything more gorgeous +than these birds as they fluttered in the sun; +but I confess that, “on serious thoughts +intent,” during this journey, they were more +often associated with my ideas of supper than +anything else.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The evening of the third day, we found +ourselves obliged to camp down with a scanty +supply of brackish water, and no signs of any +living thing. The next day was worse; a +land of silence and desolation, where it seemed +as if mountains had been crumbled up and +scattered about in hills and lumps. The dry +earth cracked and yawned in all directions. +Failing to find water, we camped down, +parched, weary, silent, but not despairing.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The next morning the horses were gone.</p> + +<p class='c005'>I cannot find words to describe what we +suffered in the subsequent twelve hours. I +had walked until my feet were one mass of +blisters, and was ready to lie down and die +ten times in the day; but somehow I found +strength to walk, always chewing a bullet. +At length, at nightfall, we found our horses; +and, nearly at the same time, to crown our +delight—water. At the sight of this, we +both involuntarily sank down on our knees +to return thanks for life saved.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The next morning, after a scanty breakfast, +we set to work, and by dint of cutting away +with axe and jack-knife, at the expense of +clothes and skin, through a brigalow scrub +for half a mile, found our way into a gap +through which our track lay, and which we +had missed. It led straight to the dividing +range.</p> + +<p class='c005'>After crossing five miles from the foot of +the range, through a barren tract, our eyes +and hearts were suddenly rejoiced by the +sight of the wished-for land.</p> + +<p class='c005'>A plain, covered with fine green barley-grass, +as high as our horses’ heads, and +sprinkled over with the myal shrub, which +cattle and sheep will eat and thrive on, even +without grass. Such was the delicious prospect +before us. A flood had evidently but +lately subsided, for lagoons full of water were +scattered all about; a river running at the +rate of five miles an hour, serpentined as far +as the eye could see, from which the water-fowl +fluttered up as we passed; the eagle hawks were +sweeping along after flocks of quail, and mobs +of kangaroos hopping about like huge rabbits. +There was not a sign of horn or hoof anywhere, +but it was evident the aborigines were +numerous, for there were paths worn down +where they had been in the habit of travelling, +from one angle of the river to another; we +could trace their footmarks and of all sizes, and +thereupon we unslung our guns and looked at +the priming. Altogether I thought I had +discovered the finest place for a cattle-station +in the colony; I found out afterwards that +the first appearance of a new country before it +has been stocked is not to be depended on.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We formed a camp in an angle of the +river, so as to have protection on three sides, +ventured, in spite of the danger, to light a +fire and cook some game. Oh, how delicious +was that meal! As I lay near the river’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_420'>420</span>edge, peeping through the tall grass, I saw +the horrid emus, that rare and soon to be +extinct bird, come down the slopes on the +opposite side to drink in numbers; a sure +sign that white men were as yet strangers to +these plains.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We spent some days in examination, and +during the exploration met with adventures +with the aborigines, I will not now relate. +Having marked a station with my initials, +and in returning made out a route practicable +for drays, by which I afterwards made +my way with a large herd of cattle, although +not without enduring more than I could tell +in a few lines.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Our horses having picked up their flesh in +a fortnight’s spell on the green plains, we got +back at a rattling pace, but, before arriving +home, met with an adventure I shall not soon +forget. It was at the first station we reached +after crossing the “barrens” that divided our +newly discovered country. A hut had just +been built for the Stockman, a big strong +Irishman, more than six feet high, a regular +specimen of a Tipperary chicken. He had +been entertaining us with characteristic hospitality; +and we were smoking our pipes +round the fire, when the hut-keeper rushed in +without his hat, crying—</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Tom! Tom! the blacks are coming +down on us, all armed, as hard as they can +run. Shut the door! for Heaven’s sake shut +the door!” Tom banged it to, and put his +shoulder against it, while the keeper was +pulling up the bar, and Carden and I were +getting the lock-cases off our fire-arms. Unfortunately +the door was made roughly of +green wood, and had shrunk, leaving gaps +between the slabs.</p> + +<p class='c005'>In the mean time about thirty blacks hurled +a volley of spears that made the walls ring again; +and then advancing boldly up, one of them +thrust a double-jagged spear through the +door, slap into Tom’s throat. My back was +turned towards him, being busy putting a +fresh cap on my carbine. I heard his cry, +and, turning, saw him fall into the arms of +the hut-keeper. I thrust the barrel of my +piece through a hole against a black devil, +and fired at the same moment that my +man did. The two dropped; the rest retreated, +but turned back, and caught up their +dead friends. Carden flung open the door +again, and gave them the contents of his other +barrel. My black put the hut-keeper’s musket +into my hand; I gave them a charge of buckshot. +Three more fell, and the rest, dropping +their friends, disappeared across the river. +All this was the work of a moment. We then +turned our attention to the stock-keeper. The +spear had entered at the chin, and come out +on the other side three or four inches. There +was not a great flow of blood, but he was +evidently bleeding inwardly. He was perfectly +collected, and said he was quite sure he +should die.</p> + +<p class='c005'>We cut the end of the spear short off, but +did not dare to take it out. The hut-keeper +got on a horse, leading another, and rode for +a doctor who lived one hundred and fifty +miles off; he never stopped except to give +the horses a feed two or three times in the +whole distance, but when he reached his +journey’s end, the doctor was out. In the +mean time poor Tom made his will, disposing +of a few head of cattle, mare and foal, and +also signed a sort of dying testament to the +effect that he had never wronged any of the +blacks in any way. The weather was very +hot, mortification came on, and he died in +agony two days after receiving his wound.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The outrage was reported to the Commissioner, +but no notice was taken of it although +we were paying a tax for Border Police at +the time.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Not many years have elapsed since we +fought for our lives—since I read the burial +service over the poor murdered Stockman. +A handsome verandah’d villa now stands in +the place of the slab hut; yellow corn waves +over the Irishman’s grave, and while cattle +and sheep abound, as well white men, women, +and children, there is not a wild black within +two hundred miles.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>THE BIRTH OF MORNING.</h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c008'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>Pure, calm, diffused, the twilight of the morn</div> + <div class='line in2'>Is in the glen, among the dewy leaves.</div> + <div class='line in2'>Its gentle radiance, more heavenly-born</div> + <div class='line in2'>Than the half-loving sunbeam, never grieves</div> + <div class='line in2'>A nook, unvisited. This Earth receives</div> + <div class='line in2'>The light which makes no shade, as the caress</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of God on his creation, and upheaves</div> + <div class='line in2'>Her soft face, innocent with peace, to bless,</div> + <div class='line'>Babe-like, his watchful eye with waking tenderness.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>A gate admits us to the Hill we seek;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Through woods a track upon the turf we find;</div> + <div class='line in2'>The trees are dripping dew, their tall stems creak</div> + <div class='line in2'>And rub together when the morning wind</div> + <div class='line in2'>Lightly caresses them. We pause to mind</div> + <div class='line in2'>The note of one awakened bird, whose cry,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Quaint and repeated, is not like its kind.</div> + <div class='line in2'>Our ears are ignorant. Now up the high</div> + <div class='line'>And mossy slope we climb, beneath an open sky.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>We reach the summit. Earth is in a dream</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of misty seas, and islands strangely born—</div> + <div class='line in2'>The unreal, from reality. The stream</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of wraith-like sights which, ere he can be torn</div> + <div class='line in2'>From peaceful sleep, delights the travel-worn</div> + <div class='line in2'>At slumber’s painted gate, is not more wild</div> + <div class='line in2'>Than the imagining of Earth when Morn</div> + <div class='line in2'>Bids her awaken. So a dreaming child</div> + <div class='line'>Looks through white angel wings, and sees all undefiled.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>The blessed dream-land fancy of the young,</div> + <div class='line in2'>More truthful than the reasoning of age,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Is like this vision of the morning, sprung</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of earth and air. These lines upon the page</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of Nature have life in them. They assuage</div> + <div class='line in2'>The fevers of the world, they are the dew</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of calm,—and God is calm. How mortals wage</div> + <div class='line in2'>Their wars of weakness Light reveals to view;</div> + <div class='line'>Reason fights through the false, but Fancy feels the true.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_421'>421</span> + <h2 class='c003'>AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c004'>In one of the dirtiest and most gloomy +streets leading to the Rue Saint Denis, in Paris, +there stands a tall and ancient house, the +lower portion of which is a large mercer’s +shop. This establishment is held to be one of +the very best in the neighbourhood, and has +for many years belonged to an individual on +whom we will bestow the name of Ramin.</p> + +<p class='c005'>About ten years ago, Monsieur Ramin was +a jovial red-faced man of forty, who joked his +customers into purchasing his goods, flattered +the pretty <i>grisettes</i> outrageously, and now and +then gave them a Sunday treat at the barrier, +as the cheapest way of securing their custom. +Some people thought him a careless, good-natured +fellow, and wondered how, with +his off-hand ways, he contrived to make +money so fast, but those who knew him well +saw that he was one of those who “never +lost an opportunity.” Others declared that +Monsieur Ramin’s own definition of his +character was, that he was a “<i>bon enfant</i>,” +and that “it was all luck.” He shrugged +his shoulders and laughed when people hinted +at his deep scheming in making, and his +skill in taking advantage of Excellent Opportunities.</p> + +<p class='c005'>He was sitting in his gloomy parlour one +fine morning in Spring, breakfasting from a +dark liquid honoured with the name of onion +soup, glancing at the newspaper, and keeping +a vigilant look on the shop through the open +door, when his old servant Catherine suddenly +observed:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I suppose you know Monsieur Bonelle has +come to live in the vacant apartment on the +fourth floor?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“What!” exclaimed Monsieur Ramin in +a loud key.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Catherine repeated her statement, to which +her master listened in total silence.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well!” he said, at length, in his most +careless tones; “what about the old fellow?” +and he once more resumed his triple occupation +of reading, eating, and watching.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Why,” continued Catherine, “they say +he is nearly dying, and that his housekeeper, +Marguerite, vowed he could never get up-stairs +alive. It took two men to carry him +up; and when he was at length quiet in bed, +Marguerite went down to the porter’s lodge +and sobbed there a whole hour, saying, Her +poor master, had the gout, the rheumatics, +and a bad asthma; that though he had been +got up-stairs, he would never come down +again alive; that if she could only get him to +confess his sins and make his will, she would +not mind it so much; but that when she +spoke of the lawyer or the priest, he blasphemed +at her like a heathen, and declared +he would live to bury her and every body +else.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin heard Catherine with +great attention, forgot to finish his soup, and +remained for five minutes in profound rumination, +without so much as perceiving two +customers who had entered the shop and were +waiting to be served. When aroused, he was +heard to exclaim:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“What an excellent opportunity!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle had been Ramin’s predecessor. +The succession of the latter to +the shop was a mystery. No one ever +knew how it was that this young and poor +assistant managed to replace his patron. +Some said that he had detected Monsieur +Bonelle in frauds which he threatened to +expose, unless the business were given up +to him as the price of his silence; others +averred that, having drawn a prize in the +lottery, he had resolved to set up a fierce +opposition over the way, and that Monsieur +Bonelle, having obtained a hint of his +intentions, had thought it most prudent to +accept the trifling sum his clerk offered, and +avoid a ruinous competition. Some charitable +souls—moved no doubt by Monsieur Bonelle’s +misfortune—endeavoured to console and pump +him; but all they could get from him was the +bitter exclamation, “To think I should have +been duped by <i>him</i>!” For Ramin had the +art, though then a mere youth, to pass himself +off on his master as an innocent provincial lad. +Those who sought an explanation from the +new mercer, were still more unsuccessful. +“My good old master,” he said in his jovial +way, “felt in need of repose, and so I +obligingly relieved him of all business and +botheration.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Years passed away; Ramin prospered, and +neither thought nor heard of his “good old +master.” The house, of which he tenanted +the lower portion, was offered for sale: he +had long coveted it, and had almost concluded +an agreement with the actual owner, when +Monsieur Bonelle unexpectedly stepped in at +the eleventh hour, and by offering a trifle +more secured the bargain. The rage and +mortification of Monsieur Ramin were extreme. +He could not understand how Bonelle, +whom he had thought ruined, had scraped up +so large a sum; his lease was out, and he +now felt himself at the mercy of the man he +had so much injured. But either Monsieur +Bonelle was free from vindictive feelings, or +those feelings did not blind him to the expediency +of keeping a good tenant; for though +he raised the rent, until Monsieur Ramin +groaned inwardly, he did not refuse to renew +the lease. They had met at that period; but +never since.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well, Catherine,” observed Monsieur +Ramin to his old servant, on the following +morning, “How is that good Monsieur Bonelle +getting on?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I dare say you feel very uneasy about +him,” she replied with a sneer.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin looked up and frowned.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Catherine,” said he, dryly, “you will have +the goodness, in the first place, not to make +impertinent remarks; in the second place, +you will oblige me by going up-stairs to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_422'>422</span>inquire after the health of Monsieur Bonelle, +and say that I sent you.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Catherine grumbled, and obeyed. Her +master was in the shop, when she returned in +a few minutes, and delivered with evident +satisfaction the following gracious message:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Monsieur Bonelle desires his compliments +to you, and declines to state how he is; he +will also thank you to attend to your own +shop, and not to trouble yourself about his +health.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“How does he look?” asked Monsieur +Ramin with perfect composure.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I caught a glimpse of him, and he appears +to me to be rapidly preparing for the good +offices of the undertaker.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin smiled, rubbed his hands, +and joked merrily with a dark-eyed grisette, +who was cheapening some ribbon for her cap. +That girl made an excellent bargain that day.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Towards dusk the mercer left the shop to +the care of his attendant, and softly stole up +to the fourth story. In answer to his gentle +ring, a little old woman opened the door, and, +giving him a rapid look, said briefly,</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Monsieur is inexorable; he won’t see any +doctor whatever.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>She was going to shut the door in his face, +when Ramin quickly interposed, under his +breath, with “<i>I</i> am not a doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>She looked at him from head to foot.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Are you a lawyer?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Nothing of the sort, my good lady.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well then, are you a priest?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I may almost say, quite the reverse.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Indeed you must go away, Master sees no +one.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Once more she would have shut the door; +but Ramin prevented her.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My good lady,” said he in his most insinuating +tones, “it is true I am neither a +lawyer, a doctor, nor a priest. I am an old +friend, a very old friend of your excellent +master; I have come to see good Monsieur +Bonelle in his present affliction.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Marguerite did not answer, but allowed +him to enter, and closed the door behind him. +He was going to pass from the narrow and +gloomy ante-chamber into an inner room—whence +now proceeded a sound of loud coughing—when +the old woman laid her hand on +his arm, and raising herself on tiptoe, to +reach his ear, whispered:</p> + +<p class='c005'>“For Heaven’s sake, Sir, since you are his +friend, do talk to him; do tell him to make +his will, and hint something about a soul to +be saved, and all that sort of thing: do, Sir!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin nodded and winked in a +way that said “I will.” He proved however +his prudence by not speaking aloud; for a +voice from within sharply exclaimed,</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Marguerite, you are talking to some one. +Marguerite, I will see neither doctor nor +lawyer; and if any meddling priest dare—”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“It is only an old friend, Sir;” interrupted +Marguerite, opening the inner door.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Her master, on looking up, perceived the +red face of Monsieur Ramin peeping over +the old woman’s shoulder, and irefully cried +out,</p> + +<p class='c005'>“How dare you bring that fellow here? +And you, Sir, how dare you come?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My good old friend, there are feelings,” +said Ramin, spreading his fingers over the left +pocket of his waistcoat,—“there are feelings,” +he repeated, “that cannot be subdued. One +such feeling brought me here. The fact is, +I am a good-natured easy fellow, and I never +bear malice. I never forget an old friend, +but love to forget old differences when I +find one party in affliction.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>He drew a chair forward as he spoke, and +composedly seated himself opposite to his late +master.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle was a thin old man +with a pale sharp face and keen features. +At first he eyed his visitor from the depths +of his vast arm-chair; but, as if not satisfied +with this distant view, he bent forward, and +laying both hands on his thin knees, he looked +up into Ramin’s face with a fixed and piercing +gaze. He had not, however, the power of disconcerting +his guest.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“What did you come here for?” he at +length asked.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Merely to have the extreme satisfaction +of seeing how you are, my good old friend. +Nothing more.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well, look at me—and then go.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Nothing could be so discouraging: but this +was an Excellent Opportunity, and when Monsieur +Ramin <i>had</i> an excellent opportunity in +view, his pertinacity was invincible. Being +now resolved to stay, it was not in Monsieur +Bonelle’s power to banish him. At the same +time, he had tact enough to render his presence +agreeable. He knew that his coarse +and boisterous wit had often delighted Monsieur +Bonelle of old, and he now exerted +himself so successfully as to betray the old +man two or three times into hearty laughter.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Ramin,” said he, at length, laying his thin +hand on the arm of his guest, and peering +with his keen glance into the mercer’s purple +face, “you are a funny fellow, but I know +you; you cannot make me believe you have +called just to see how I am, and to amuse +me. Come, be candid for once; what do you +want?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ramin threw himself back in his chair, and +laughed blandly, as much as to say, “<i>Can</i> you +suspect me?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I have no shop now out of which you can +wheedle me,” continued the old man; “and +surely you are not such a fool as to come to +me for money.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Money?” repeated the draper, as if his +host had mentioned something he never +dreamt of. “Oh, no!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ramin saw it would not do to broach the +subject he had really come about, too abruptly, +now that suspicion seemed so wide awake—<i>the</i> +opportunity had not arrived.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“There is something up, Ramin, I know; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_423'>423</span>I see it in the twinkle of your eye: but you +can’t deceive me again.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Deceive <i>you</i>?” said the jolly schemer, +shaking his head reverentially. “Deceive a +man of your penetration and depth? Impossible! +The bare supposition is flattery. My +dear friend,” he continued, soothingly, “I did +not dream of such a thing. The fact is, Bonelle, +though they call me a jovial, careless, rattling +dog, I have a conscience; and, somehow, I have +never felt quite easy about the way in which I +became your successor down-stairs. It <i>was</i> +rather sharp practice, I admit.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Bonelle seemed to relent.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Now for it,” said the Opportunity-hunter +to himself.—“By-the-by,” (speaking aloud,) +“this house must be a great trouble to you in +your present weak state? Two of your lodgers +have lately gone away without paying—a +great nuisance, especially to an invalid.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I tell you I’m as sound as a colt.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“At all events, the whole concern must be +a great bother to you. If I were you, I would +sell the house.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“And if I were <i>you</i>,” returned the landlord, +dryly, “I would buy it——”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Precisely,” interrupted the tenant, eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“That is, if you could get it. Phoo! I +knew you were after something. Will you +give eighty thousand francs for it?” abruptly +asked Monsieur Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Eighty thousand francs!” echoed Ramin. +“Do you take me for Louis Philippe or the +Bank of France?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Then, we’ll say no more about it—are +you not afraid of leaving your shop so long?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ramin returned to the charge, heedless of +the hint to depart. “The fact is, my good +old friend, ready money is not my strong +point just now. But if you wish very much +to be relieved of the concern, what say you +to a life annuity? I could manage that.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle gave a short, dry, churchyard +cough, and looked as if his life were not +worth an hour’s purchase. “You think yourself +immensely clever, I dare say,” he said. +“They have persuaded you that I am dying. +Stuff! I shall bury you yet.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>The mercer glanced at the thin fragile +frame, and exclaimed to himself, “Deluded +old gentleman!” “My dear Bonelle,” he +continued, aloud, “I know well the strength +of your admirable constitution; but allow +me to observe that you neglect yourself +too much. Now, suppose a good sensible +doctor——.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Will you pay him?” interrogated Bonelle +sharply.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Most willingly,” replied Ramin, with an +eagerness that made the old man smile. “As +to the annuity, since the subject annoys you, +we will talk of it some other time.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“After you have heard the doctor’s report,” +sneered Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The mercer gave him a stealthy glance, +which the old man’s keen look immediately +detected. Neither could repress a smile: +these good souls understood one another perfectly, +and Ramin saw that this was not the +Excellent Opportunity he desired, and departed.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The next day Ramin sent a neighbouring +medical man, and heard it was his opinion +that if Bonelle held on for three months longer, +it would be a miracle. Delightful news!</p> + +<p class='c005'>Several days elapsed, and although very +anxious, Ramin assumed a careless air, and did +not call upon his landlord, or take any notice of +him. At the end of the week old Marguerite +entered the shop to make a trifling purchase.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“And how are we getting on up-stairs?” +negligently asked Monsieur Ramin.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Worse and worse, my good Sir,” she +sighed. “We have rheumatic pains, which +make us often use expressions the reverse of +Christian-like, and yet nothing can induce us +to see either the lawyer or the priest; the +gout is getting nearer to our stomach every +day, and still we go on talking about the +strength of our constitution. Oh, Sir, if you +have any influence with us, do, pray do, tell +us how wicked it is to die without making +one’s will or confessing one’s sins.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I shall go up this very evening,” ambiguously +replied Monsieur Ramin.</p> + +<p class='c005'>He kept his promise, and found Monsieur +Bonelle in bed, groaning with pain, and in +the worst of tempers.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“What poisoning doctor did you send?” he +asked, with an ireful glance; “I want no +doctor, I am not ill; I will not follow his +prescription; he forbade me to eat; I <i>will</i> +eat.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“He is a very clever man,” said the visitor. +“He told me that never in the whole course +of his experience has he met with what he +called so much ‘resisting power’ as exists in +your frame. He asked me if you were not of +a long-lived race.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“That is as people may judge,” replied +Monsieur Bonelle. “All I can say is, that +my grandfather died at ninety, and my father +at eighty-six.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“The doctor owned that you had a wonderfully +strong constitution.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Who said I hadn’t?” exclaimed the invalid +feebly.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“You may rely on it, you would preserve +your health better if you had not the trouble +of these vexatious lodgers. Have you thought +about the life annuity?” said Ramin as carelessly +as he could, considering how near the +matter was to his hopes and wishes.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Why, I have scruples,” returned Bonelle, +coughing. “I do not wish to take you in. +My longevity would be the ruin of you.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“To meet that difficulty,” quickly replied +the mercer, “we can reduce the interest.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“But I must have high interest,” placidly +returned Monsieur Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ramin, on hearing this, burst into a loud +fit of laughter, called Monsieur Bonelle a sly +old fox, gave him a poke in the ribs, which +made the old man cough for five minutes, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_424'>424</span>then proposed that they should talk it over +some other day. The mercer left Monsieur +Bonelle in the act of protesting that he felt as +strong as a man of forty.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin felt in no hurry to conclude +the proposed agreement. “The later +one begins to pay, the better,” he said, as he +descended the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Days passed on, and the negotiation made +no way. It struck the observant tradesman +that all was not right. Old Marguerite +several times refused to admit him, declaring +her master was asleep: there was something +mysterious and forbidding in her manner that +seemed to Monsieur Ramin very ominous. +At length a sudden thought occurred to +him: the housekeeper—wishing to become her +master’s heir—had heard his scheme and opposed +it. On the very day that he arrived at +this conclusion, he met a lawyer, with whom +he had formerly had some transactions, coming +down the staircase. The sight sent a chill +through the mercer’s commercial heart, and a +presentiment—one of those presentiments that +seldom deceive—told him it was too late. He +had, however, the fortitude to abstain from +visiting Monsieur Bonelle until evening came; +when he went up, resolved to see him in spite +of all Marguerite might urge. The door was +half-open, and the old housekeeper stood +talking on the landing to a middle-aged man +in a dark cassock.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“It is all over! The old witch has got the +priests at him,” thought Ramin, inwardly +groaning at his own folly in allowing himself +to be forestalled.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“You cannot see Monsieur to-night,” +sharply said Marguerite, as he attempted to +pass her.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Alas! is my excellent friend so very ill?” +asked Ramin, in a mournful tone.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Sir,” eagerly said the clergyman, catching +him by the button of his coat, “if you are +indeed the friend of that unhappy man, do +seek to bring him into a more suitable frame +of mind. I have seen many dying men, but +never so much obstinacy, never such infatuated +belief in the duration of life.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Then you think he really <i>is</i> dying?” +asked Ramin; and, in spite of the melancholy +accent he endeavoured to assume, there was +something so peculiar in his tone, that the +priest looked at him very fixedly as he slowly +replied,</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Yes, Sir, I think he is.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Ah!” was all Monsieur Ramin said; and +as the clergyman had now relaxed his hold +of the button, Ramin passed in spite of the +remonstrances of Marguerite, who rushed +after the priest. He found Monsieur Bonelle +still in bed and in a towering rage.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Oh! Ramin, my friend,” he groaned, +“never take a housekeeper, and never let her +know you have any property. They are +harpies, Ramin,—harpies! such a day as I +have had; first, the lawyer, who comes to +write down ‘my last testamentary dispositions,’ +as he calls them; then the priest, +who gently hints that I am a dying man. Oh, +what a day!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“And <i>did</i> you make your will, my excellent +friend?” softly asked Monsieur Ramin, with +a keen look.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Make my will?” indignantly exclaimed +the old man; “make my will? what do +you mean, Sir? do you mean to say I am +dying?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Heaven forbid!” piously ejaculated Ramin.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Then why do you ask me if I have been +making my will?” angrily resumed the old +man. He then began to be extremely abusive.</p> + +<p class='c005'>When money was in the way, Monsieur +Ramin, though otherwise of a violent temper, +had the meekness of a lamb. He bore the +treatment of his host with the meekest +patience, and having first locked the door +so as to make sure that Marguerite would not +interrupt them, he watched Monsieur Bonelle +attentively, and satisfied himself that the +Excellent Opportunity he had been ardently +longing for had arrived. “He is going fast,” +he thought; “and unless I settle the agreement +to-night, and get it drawn up and signed +to-morrow, it will be too late.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My dear friend,” he at length said aloud, +on perceiving that the old gentleman had +fairly exhausted himself and was lying panting +on his back, “you are indeed a lamentable +instance of the lengths to which the greedy +lust of lucre will carry our poor human +nature. It is really distressing to see Marguerite, +a faithful, attached servant, suddenly +converted into a tormenting harpy by the +prospect of a legacy! Lawyers and priests +flock around you like birds of prey, drawn +hither by the scent of gold! Oh, the +miseries of having delicate health combined +with a sound constitution and large property!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Ramin,” groaned the old man, looking inquiringly +into his visitor’s face, “you are again +going to talk to me about that annuity—I +know you are!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My excellent friend, it is merely to deliver +you from a painful position.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“I am sure, Ramin, you think in your soul +I am dying,” whimpered Monsieur Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Absurd, my dear Sir. Dying? I will prove +to you that you have never been in better +health. In the first place you feel no pain.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Excepting from rheumatism,” groaned +Monsieur Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Rheumatism! who ever died of rheumatism? +and if that be all——”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“No, it is not all,” interrupted the old man +with great irritability; “what would you say +to the gout getting higher and higher up +every day?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“The gout is rather disagreeable, but if +there is nothing else——”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Yes, there is something else,” sharply +said Monsieur Bonelle. “There is an asthma +that will scarcely let me breathe, and a racking +pain in my head that does not allow me a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_425'>425</span>moment’s ease. But if you think I am dying, +Ramin, you are quite mistaken.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“No doubt, my dear friend, no doubt; but +in the meanwhile, suppose we talk of this +annuity. Shall we say one thousand francs a +year.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“What?” asked Bonelle, looking at him +very fixedly.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My dear friend, I mistook; I meant two +thousand francs per annum,” hurriedly rejoined +Ramin.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle closed his eyes, and appeared +to fall into a gentle slumber. The +mercer coughed; the sick man never moved.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Monsieur Bonelle.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>No reply.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“My excellent friend.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Utter silence.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Are you asleep?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>A long pause.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well, then, what do you say to three +thousand?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle opened his eyes.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Ramin,” said he, sententiously, “you are +a fool; the house brings me in four thousand +as it is.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>This was quite false, and the mercer knew +it; but he had his own reasons for wishing +to seem to believe it true.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Good Heavens!” said he, with an air of +great innocence, “who could have thought it, +and the lodgers constantly running away. +Four thousand? Well, then, you shall have +four thousand.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Bonelle shut his eyes once more, +and murmured “The mere rental—nonsense!” +He then folded his hands on his breast, and +appeared to compose himself to sleep.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Oh, what a sharp man of business he is!” +Ramin said, admiringly: but for once omnipotent +flattery failed in its effect: “So acute!” +continued he, with a stealthy glance at the +old man, who remained perfectly unmoved. +“I see you will insist upon making it the other +five hundred francs.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Monsieur Ramin said this as if five thousand +five hundred francs had already been mentioned, +and was the very summit of Monsieur +Bonelle’s ambition. But the ruse failed in +its effect; the sick man never so much as +stirred.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“But, my dear friend,” urged Monsieur +Ramin in a tone of feeling remonstrance, +“there is such a thing as being too sharp, too +acute. How can you expect that I shall give +you more when your constitution is so good, +and you are to be such a long liver?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Yes, but I may be carried off one of those +days,” quietly observed the old man, evidently +wishing to turn the chance of his own death +to account.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Indeed, and I hope so,” muttered the +mercer, who was getting very ill-tempered.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“You see,” soothingly continued Bonelle, +“you are so good a man of business, Ramin, +that you will double the actual value of the +house in no time. I am a quiet, easy person, +indifferent to money; otherwise this house +would now bring me in eight thousand at the +very least.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Eight thousand!” indignantly exclaimed +the mercer. “Monsieur Bonelle, you have +no conscience. Come now, my dear friend, do +be reasonable. Six thousand francs a year (I +don’t mind saying six) is really a very handsome +income for a man of your quiet habits. +Come, be reasonable.” But Monsieur Bonelle +turned a deaf ear to reason, and closed his +eyes once more. What between opening +and shutting them for the next quarter of an +hour, he at length induced Monsieur Ramin +to offer him seven thousand francs.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Very well, Ramin, agreed,” he quietly +said; “you have made an unconscionable +bargain.” To this succeeded a violent fit of +coughing.</p> + +<p class='c005'>As Ramin unlocked the door to leave, he +found old Marguerite, who had been listening +all the time, ready to assail him with a torrent +of whispered abuse for duping her “poor +dear innocent old master into such a bargain.” +The mercer bore it all very patiently; he +could make allowances for her excited feelings, +and only rubbed his hands and bade her a +jovial good evening.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The agreement was signed on the following +day, to the indignation of old Marguerite, and +the mutual satisfaction of the parties concerned.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Every one admired the luck and shrewdness +of Ramin, for the old man every day +was reported worse; and it was clear to all +that the first quarter of the annuity would +never be paid. Marguerite, in her wrath, +told the story as a grievance to every one: +people listened, shook their heads, and pronounced +Monsieur Ramin to be a deuced +clever fellow.</p> + +<p class='c005'>A month elapsed. As Ramin was coming +down one morning from the attics, where he +had been giving notice to a poor widow who +had failed in paying her rent, he heard a light +step on the stairs. Presently a sprightly gentleman, +in buoyant health and spirits, wearing +the form of Monsieur Bonelle, appeared. +Ramin stood aghast.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Well, Ramin,” gaily said the old man, +“how are you getting on? Have you been +tormenting the poor widow up-stairs? Why, +man, we must live and let live!”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Monsieur Bonelle,” said the mercer, in a +hollow tone; “may I ask where are your +rheumatics?”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“Gone, my dear friend,—gone.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“And the gout that was creeping higher +and higher every day,” exclaimed Monsieur +Ramin, in a voice of anguish.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“It went lower and lower, till it disappeared +altogether,” composedly replied Bonelle.</p> + +<p class='c005'>“And your asthma——”</p> + +<p class='c005'>“The asthma remains, but asthmatic people +are proverbially long-lived. It is, I have been +told, the only complaint that Methuselah was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_426'>426</span>troubled with.” With this Bonelle opened +his door, shut it, and disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ramin was transfixed on the stairs; +petrified with intense disappointment, and a +powerful sense of having been duped. When +he was discovered, he stared vacantly, and +raved about an Excellent Opportunity of +taking his revenge.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The wonderful cure was the talk of the +neighbourhood, whenever Monsieur Bonelle +appeared in the streets, jauntily flourishing +his cane. In the first frenzy of his despair, +Ramin refused to pay; he accused every +one of having been in a plot to deceive +him; he turned off Catherine and expelled +his porter; he publicly accused the lawyer +and priest of conspiracy; brought an action +against the doctor, and lost it. He had +another brought against him for violently +assaulting Marguerite in which he was +cast in heavy damages. Monsieur Bonelle +did not trouble himself with useless remonstrances, +but, when his annuity was refused, +employed such good legal arguments, as the +exasperated mercer could not possibly resist.</p> + +<p class='c005'>Ten years have elapsed, and MM. Ramin +and Bonelle still live on. For a house which +would have been dear at fifty thousand francs, +the draper has already handed over seventy +thousand.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The once red-faced, jovial Ramin is now a +pale haggard man, of sour temper and aspect. +To add to his anguish, he sees the old man thrive +on that money which it breaks his heart to +give. Old Marguerite takes a malicious +pleasure in giving him an exact account of +their good cheer, and in asking him if he does +not think Monsieur looks better and better every +day. Of one part of this torment Ramin might +get rid, by giving his old master notice to quit, +and no longer having him in his house. But +this he cannot do; he has a secret fear that +Bonelle would take some Excellent Opportunity +of dying without his knowledge, and +giving some other person an Excellent Opportunity +of personating him, and receiving the +money in his stead.</p> + +<p class='c005'>The last accounts of the victim of Excellent +Opportunities represent him as being +gradually worn down with disappointment. +There seems every probability of his being the +first to leave the world; for Bonelle is heartier +than ever.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>REVIEW OF A POPULAR PUBLICATION.<br> <span class='c007'>IN THE SEARCHING STYLE.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Bank Note.</span> <i>Oblong Octavo.</i> London, 1850. +<i>The Governor and Company of the Bank of +England. Price, from Five to One Thousand +Pounds.</i></p> + +<p class='c010'>The object of this popular but expensive +pocket companion, is not wholly dissimilar from +that of its clever and cheaper contemporary +“Notes and Queries.” As the latter is a +“medium of intercommunication for literary +men,” so the former is a medium of intercommunication +for commercial men; and +surely there is no work with which so many +queries are constantly connected as the Bank +Note. Nothing in existence is so assiduously +inquired for; nothing in nature so perseveringly +sought.</p> + +<p class='c010'>This is not to be wondered at; for in whatever +light we view it, to whatever test we +bring it, whether we read it backwards or +forwards, from left to right, or from right to +left; or whether we make it a transparency +to prove its substantial genuineness and +worth, who can deny that the Bank Note is a +most valuable work?—a publication, in short, +without which no gentleman’s pocket can be +complete?</p> + +<p class='c010'>Few can rise from a critical examination of +the literary contents of this narrow sheet, +without being forcibly struck with the power, +combined with the exquisite fineness of the +writing. It strikes conviction at once. It +dispels all doubts, and relieves all objections. +There is a pithy terseness in the construction +of the sentences; a downright, direct, straightforward, +coming to the point, which would +be wisely imitated in much of the contemporaneous +literature that constantly obtains +currency (though not as much). Here we have +no circumlocution, no discursive pedantry, no +smell of the lamp; the figures, though wholly +derived from the East (being Arabic numerals), +are distinct and full of purpose; and if +the writing abounds in flourishes, which it +does, these are not rhetorical, but boldly +graphic: struck with a nervous decision of +style, which, instead of obscuring the text and +meaning, convinces the reader that he who +traced them when promising to pay the sum +of five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, one +hundred, or a thousand pounds, means +honestly and instantly to keep his word: +that he <i>will</i> pay it to bearer on demand, +without one moment’s hesitation.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Strictly adapted for utility, yet the dulcet +is not wholly overlooked; for, besides figures +and flourishes, the graces of art are shed over +this much-prized publication. The figure of +Britannia is no slavish reproduction of any +particular school whatever. She sits upon +her scroll of state utterly inimitable and alone. +She is hung up in one corner of the page, the +sole representative of the P. R. F. P., or pre-reissue-of-the-fourpenny-piece, +school. Neither, +if judged by the golden rule of our greatest +bard, is the work wholly deficient in another +charm. As we have just explained, its words +are few: brevity is the soul of wit. And we +fearlessly put it to the keenest appreciator +of good things, whether a Bank Note (say for +a hundred) is not the best joke conceivable—except, +indeed, a Bank Note for a thousand.</p> + +<p class='c010'>A critical analysis of a work of this importance +cannot be complete without going +deeply into the subject. Reviewing is, alas, +too often mere surface-work; for seldom do +we find the critic going below the superficies, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_427'>427</span>or extending his scrutiny beyond the letter-press. +We shall, however, set a bright example +of profundity, and having discharged our duty +to the face of the Bank Note, shall proceed +to penetrate below it: having analysed the +print, we shall now speak of the paper.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The late Mr. Cobbett, to express his idea of +the intrinsic worthlessness of these sheets, in +comparison with the prices at which they pass +current, was wont to designate Bank Notes as +“Rags.” It may, indeed, be said of them +that, “Rags they were, and to tinder they +return;” for they are born of shreds of linen, +and, ten years after death, are converted in +bonfires into the finest of known tinder. It +may be considered a curious fact by those +who wear shirts, and a painful, because hopeless +one, by those who make them, that the +refuse or cuttings of linen forms, with a slight +admixture of cotton, the pabulum or pulp of +Bank Note Paper. Machinery has made no +inroads on this branch of paper-making. The +pulp is kept so well mixed in a large vat, +that the fibrous material presents the appearance +of a huge cauldron of milk. Into this +the paper-maker dips his mould, which is a +fine wire sieve, having round its edge, a +slight mahogany frame, called the “Deckel,” +which confines the pulp to the dimensions +of the mould. This dip is quite a feat of +dexterity, for on it depends the thickness +and evenness of the sheet of paper. The +water-mark, or, more properly, the wire-mark, +is obtained by twisting wires to the +desired form or design, and stitching them +on the face of the mould; therefore the design +is above the level face of the mould, by the +thickness of the wires it is composed of. Hence, +the pulp in settling down on the mould, must +of necessity be thinner on the wire design +than on other parts of the sheet. When the +water has run off through the sieve-like +face of the mould, the new-born sheet of paper +is transferred to a blanket; this operation is +called “couching,” and is effected by pressing +the mould gently but firmly on the blanket, +when the spongy sheet clings to the cloth. +Sizing is a subsequent process, and, when +dry, the water-mark is plainly discernible, +being, of course, transparent where the substance +is thinnest. The paper is then made +up into reams of five hundred sheets each, +ready for press. The water-mark in the +notes of the Bank of England is secured +to that Establishment by a special Act of +Parliament. Indeed, imitation of anything +whatever connected with a Bank Note is an +extremely hazardous feat.</p> + +<p class='c010'>A scrupulous examination of this curious +piece of paper, implants a thorough conviction +that it is a very superior article—in +short, unique. There is nothing like it in the +world of sheets. Tested by the touch, it +gives out a crisp, crackling, sharp, sound—a +note essentially its own—a music which resounds +from no other quires. To the eye it +shows a colour belonging neither to blue-wove +nor yellow-wove, nor to cream-laid, but a +white, like no other white, either in paper and +pulp. The rough fringiness of three of its +edges are called the “deckled” edges, being +the natural boundary of the pulp when first +moulded; the fourth is left smooth by the +knife, which eventually cuts the two notes in +twain. It is so thin that, when printed, there +is much difficulty in making erasures; yet +it is so strong that a “water-leaf” (a leaf before +the application of size) will support thirty-six +pounds; and, with the addition of one grain +of size, half a hundred weight, without tearing; +yet the quantity of fibre of which it consists, +is no more than eighteen grains and a half.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The process of engraving the Bank Note is +peculiar. Its general design is remarkably +plain—steel plates are used, and are engraved +in a manner somewhat analogous to that employed +in the Mint for the production of the +coin, except that heavy pressure is used +instead of a blow. The form of the Note +is divided into four or five sections, each engraved +on steel dies which are hardened. +Steel rollers, or mills, are obtained from these +dies, and each portion of the Note is impressed +on a steel plate to be printed from by the +mills until the whole form is complete.</p> + +<p class='c010'>By means of a very ingenious machine, the +engraving on the plates when worn by long +printing is repaired by the same mills, and +thus perfect identity of form is permanently +secured. The merits of this system are due +to the late Mr. Oldham, and the many improvements +introduced not only into this, but +into the printing department, are the work of +his son and successor, Mr. Thomas Oldham, +the present chief engraver to the Bank of +England. The plate—always with a pair of +notes upon it—is now ready for the press; +for it contains all the literary part of the +work, except the date, the number, and the +cashier’s signature.</p> + +<p class='c010'>We must now review the manner of +printing. Before passing through the press, +all paper must be damped that it may readily +absorb ink; and Bank Note paper is not exempt +from this law; but the process by which +it is complied with is an ingenious exception +to the ordinary modes. The sheets are put +into an iron chamber which is exhausted of +air; water is then admitted, and forces itself +through every pore at the rate of thirty thousand +sheets, or double notes, per minute!</p> + +<p class='c010'>In a long gallery that looks like a chamber of +the Inquisition with self-acting racks, stands a +row of plate-printing presses worked by steam. +Every time a sheet passes through them they +emit a soft “click” like a ship’s capstan +creaking in a whisper. By this sound they +announce to all whom it may concern that +they have printed two Bank Notes. They are +tell-tales, and keep no secrets; for, not content +with stating the fact aloud, each press moves, +by means of a chain, an index of numerals at +the end of the room; so that the chief of the +department can see at any hour of the day +<span class='pageno' id='Page_428'>428</span>how many each press has printed. To take an +impression of a note plate “on the sly,” is +therefore impossible. By a clever invention +of Mr. Oldham the impression returns to the +printer when made, instead of remaining on +the opposite side of the press, after it has +passed through the rollers, as of old. The +plates are heated, for inking, over steam boxes +instead of charcoal fires.</p> + +<p class='c010'>When a ream, consisting of five hundred +sheets or one thousand notes, have been +printed, they are placed in a tray which is +inserted in a sort of shelf-trap that shuts up +with a spring. No after-abstraction can, therefore, +take place. One such repository is over +the index appertaining to each press, and at +the end of the day it can at once be seen +whether the number of sheets corresponds +with the numerals of the tell-tale. Any sort +of mistake can thus be readily detected. The +average number of “promises to pay” printed +per diem is thirty thousand.</p> + +<p class='c010'>As we cannot allow the dot over an <i>i</i>, or the +cross of a <i>t</i> to escape the focus of our critical +microscope, we now proceed to apply it to the +Bank Ink. Like the liquid of Messrs. Day +and Martin, this inestimable composition, with +half the usual labour, produces the most +brilliant jet-black, fully equal to the highest +Japan varnish, and is warranted to keep in +any climate. It is made from the charred +husks of Rhenish grapes after their juice has +been expressed and bottled for exportation to +the dinner-tables of half the world. When +mixed with pure linseed oil, carefully prepared +by boiling and burning, the vinous +refuse produces a species of blacks so tenacious +that they obstinately refuse to be emancipated +from the paper when once enslaved to it by +the press. It is so intensely nigritious that, +compared with it, all other blacks are musty +browns; and pale beside it. If the word of a +printer’s devil may be taken, it is many +degrees darker than the streams of Erebus. +Can deeper praise be awarded?</p> + +<p class='c010'>The note is, when plate-printed, two processes +distant from negotiable; the first being +the numbering and dating—and here we must +point out the grand distinction which exists +between the publication which we have the +satisfaction of stating, now lies before us (but +it is only a “Five”) and ordinary prints. When +the types for this miscellany, for instance, are +once set up, every copy struck off from them +by the press is precisely similar. On the +contrary, of those emitted from the Bank +presses <i>no two are alike</i>. They differ either in +date, in number, or in denomination. This +difference constitutes a grand system of check, +extending over every stage of every Bank +Note’s career—a system which records its +completion and issue, tracks it through its +public adventures, recognises it when it returns +to the Bank, from among hundreds of +thousands of companions, and finally enables +the proper officers to pounce upon it, in case +of inquiry, at any official half hour for ten +years after it has returned in fulfilment of its +“promise to pay,” To promise an explanation +of what must appear so complicated a +plan, may seem to the reader like a threat of +prolixity. But he may read on in security; +the system is as simple as the alphabet.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Understand then, that the dates of Bank +Notes are arbitrary, and bear no reference to +the day of issue. At the beginning of the +official year (February) the Directors settle +what dates each of the eleven denominations +of Bank Notes shall bear during the ensuing +twelve months, taking care to apportion to +each sort of note a separate date. The table +of dates is then handed to the proper officer, +who prints accordingly. The five-pound Note +which now rejoices our eyes is, for example, +dated February the 2nd, 1850; we therefore +know that there is no genuine note in existence, +for any other sum, which bears that +date; and if a note for ten, twenty, fifty, +hundred, &c., having “2nd Feb., 1850,” upon +it were to be offered to us or to a Bank Clerk, +we or he would, without a shadow of further +evidence, impound it as a forgery.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Now, as to the numbering:—It is a rule +that of every date and denomination, one +hundred thousand Notes—no more and no +less—shall be completed and issued at one +time. We know, therefore, that our solitary +five is one of a hundred thousand other fives, +each bearing a different number—from 1<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c006'><sup>[2]</sup></a> to +100,000—but all dated 2nd Feb., 1850. The +numbers are printed on each Note by +means of a letter-press, the types of which +change with each pull of the press. For the +first Note, the press is set at “00001,” and +when that is printed, the “1,” by the mere act +of impression, retires to make room for “2,” +which impresses itself on the next Note, and +so on up to “100,000.” The system has been +applied to the stamping of railway tickets. +The date, being required for the whole series, +is of course immovable. After this has been +done, the autograph of a cashier is only +requisite to render the Note worth the value +inscribed on it, in gold.</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f2'> +<p class='c010'><span class='label'><a href='#r2'>2</a>.  </span>To prevent fraudulent additions of numerals, less than +five figures are never used. When units, tens, &c., are +required, they are preceded by cyphers. “One” is therefore +expressed on a Bank Note thus:—“00001.”</p> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>While the printers are at work, manufacturing +each series of Notes, the account-book +makers are getting-up a series of ledgers +so exactly to correspond, that the books of +themselves, without the stroke of a pen, are a +record of the existence of the Note. The book +in which the birth of our own especial and particular +“Five” is registered, is legibly inscribed,</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c011'> + <div>“Fives, Feb. 2, 1850.”</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>When you open a page, you find it to consist +of a series of horizontal and perpendicular +lines, like the pattern of a pair of shepherd’s +plaid inexpressibles, variegated with columns +of numerals; these figures running on regularly +from No. 1, on the top of the first page, to +No. 100,000 at the bottom of the last. It +<span class='pageno' id='Page_429'>429</span>must therefore be obvious to the meanest +capacity that the mere existence of that book, +with its arbitrary date and series of numbers, +corresponding to the like series of Notes, is a +sufficient record of the existence and issue of +the latter. The return of each Note after its +public travels, is recorded in the square opposite +to its number. Each page of the book +contains two hundred squares and numbers; +consequently, whatever number a Note may +bear, the Clerk who has to register its safe +return from a long round of public circulation, +knows at once on which page of the book to +pounce for its own proper and particular +square. In that he inserts the date of its +return—not at full length, but in cypher. +“S” in red ink means 1850, and the months +are indicated by one of the letters of the word +<span class='sc'>Ambidextrous</span>, with the date in numerals. +Our only, and therefore favourite, five is +numbered 31177. Should it chance to finish +its travels in the Accountant’s Office on the +6th of August next, it will be narrowly inspected +(for fear of forgery) and defaced—a +Clerk will then turn at once to the book +lettered “Fives, Feb. 2,” and so exactly will +he know which page to open, and where the +square numbered 31177 is situated, that he +could point to it blindfold. He will write +in it “6 t,” which means 6th August; that +being the eighth month in the year, and “t” +the eighth letter in the chosen word.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The intermediate history of a Bank Note is +soon told. Nineteen-twentieths are issued to +Bankers or known houses of business. If +Glynn’s, or Smith’s, or any other banking firm, +require a hundred ten-pound Notes, the Clerk +who issues them makes a memorandum showing +the number of the Notes so issued, and the +name of the party to whom they have been +handed—an easy process, because Notes being +new,<a id='r3'></a><a href='#f3' class='c006'><sup>[3]</sup></a> are always given out in regular series, +and the first and last Note that makes the sum +required need only be recorded. Most Bankers +make similar memoranda when notes pass out +of their hands; and the public, as each Note +circulates among them, frequently sign the +name of the last holder. When an unknown +person presents a Note for gold at the Bank of +England, he is required to write his name and +address on it, and if the sum be very large, it +is not paid without inquiry. By these expedients, +a stolen, lost, or forged note can often +be traced from hand to hand up to its advent.</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f3'> +<p class='c010'><span class='label'><a href='#r3'>3</a>.  </span>The Bank ceased to re-issue its Notes since 1835.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>The average periods which each denomination +of London Notes remain in circulation has +been calculated, and is shown by the following</p> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr><th class='c012' colspan='3'><span class='sc'>Account of the Number of Days a Bank Note issued in London remains in Circulation</span>:—</th></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'> </td> + <td class='c013'> </td> + <td class='c014'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>£5</td> + <td class='c013'>72·7</td> + <td class='c014'>days</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>10</td> + <td class='c013'>77·0</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>20</td> + <td class='c013'>57·4</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>30</td> + <td class='c013'>18·9</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>40</td> + <td class='c013'>13·7</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>50</td> + <td class='c013'>38·8</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>100</td> + <td class='c013'>29·4</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>200</td> + <td class='c013'>12·7</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>300</td> + <td class='c013'>10·6</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>500</td> + <td class='c013'>11·8</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c013'>1000</td> + <td class='c013'>11·1</td> + <td class='c014'>„</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class='c010'>The exceptions to these averages are few, +and, therefore, remarkable. The time during +which some Notes remain unpresented are +reckoned by the century. On the 27th of September, +1845, a fifty pound Note was presented +bearing date 20th January, 1743. Another +for ten pounds, issued on the 19th November, +1762, was not paid till the 20th April, 1843. +There is a legend extant, of the eccentric possessor +of a thousand pound Note, who kept it +framed and glazed for a series of years, preferring +to feast his eyes on it, to putting the +amount it represented out at interest. It +was converted into gold, however, without +a day’s loss of time by his heirs, on his demise. +Stolen and lost Notes are generally long +absentees. The former usually make their +appearance soon after some great horse-race, +or other sporting event, altered or disguised +so as to deceive Bankers, to whom the Bank +of England furnishes a list of the numbers +and dates of stolen Notes. In a Chapter on +Forgery, which we are preparing, the reader +will see some singular facts on this point.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Mr. Francis, in his “History of the Bank +of England,” tells a curious story about +a bank post bill, which was detained during +thirty years from presentation and payment. +It happened in the year 1740:—“One +of the Directors, a very rich man, had +occasion for 30,000<i>l.</i>, which he was to pay as +the price of an estate be had just bought; to +facilitate the matter, he carried the sum with +him to the Bank and obtained for it a Bank +bill. On his return home, he was suddenly +called out upon particular business; he threw +the Note carelessly on the chimney, but when +he came back a few minutes afterwards to +lock it up, it was not to be found. No one +had entered the room; he could not therefore +suspect any person. At last, after much ineffectual +search, he was persuaded that it had +fallen from the chimney into the fire. The +Director went to acquaint his colleagues with +the misfortune that had happened to him; +and as he was known to be a perfectly honourable +man he was readily believed. It was +only about four-and-twenty hours from the +time that he had deposited his money; they +thought, therefore, that it would be hard to +refuse his request for a second bill. He received +it upon giving an obligation to restore +the first bill, if it should ever be found, or to +pay the money himself, if it should be presented +by any stranger. About thirty years +afterwards (the Director having been long +dead, and his heirs in possession of his fortune), +an unknown person presented the lost +bill at the Bank, and demanded payment. It +was in vain that they mentioned to this person +the transaction by which that bill was annulled; +he would not listen to it; he maintained +that it had come to him from abroad, +and insisted upon immediate payment. The +Note was payable to bearer; and the thirty +thousand pounds were paid him. The heirs +of the Director would not listen to any demands +<span class='pageno' id='Page_430'>430</span>of restitution; and the Bank was +obliged to sustain the loss. It was discovered +afterwards that an architect having purchased +the Director’s house, had taken it down, in +order to build another upon the same spot, +had found the Note in a crevice of the chimney, +and made his discovery an engine for robbing +the Bank.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/ibanknote.jpg' alt='‘Illustration' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<p class='c010'>Carelessness, equal to that recorded above, +is not at all uncommon, and gives the Bank +enormous profit, against which the loss of a +mere thirty thousand pound is but a trifle. +Bank Notes have been known to light pipes, to +wrap up snuff, to be used as curl-papers; and +British tars, mad with rum and prize-money, +have not unfrequently, in time of war, made +sandwiches of them, and eaten them between +bread-and-butter. In the forty years between +the years 1792 and 1812 there were out-standing +Notes (presumed to have been lost or +destroyed) amounting to one million, three +hundred and thirty odd thousand pounds; +every shilling of which was clear profit to the +Bank.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The superannuation, death, and burial of a +Bank of England Note is a story soon told. +The returned Notes, or promises performed, +are kept in “The Library” for ten years, and +then burnt in an iron cage in one of the Bank +yards.</p> + +<p class='c010'>A few words on the history and general +appearance of the Bank of England Note will +conclude our criticism.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The strong principle to insure the detection +of forgery is uniformity; hence, from the very +first Note issued by the Bank, to that, the merits +of which we are now discussing, the same +general design has been preserved,—only that +the execution has been from time to time improved; +except, we are bound to add, that of the +signatures, some of which are still as illegible +as ever. Originally, Notes were granted more +in the form of Bank post-bills,—that is, not +nominally to a member of the establishment, +but really to the party applying for them, and +for any sum he might require. If it suited his +convenience, he presented his Note several +times, drawing such lesser sums as he might +require; precisely as if it were a letter of credit, +after the manner of the Sailor mentioned in +the latest edition of Joe Miller. Jack, +somehow or other, got possession of a fifty pound +Note; the sum was so dazzlingly +enormous that he had not the heart, on +presenting it for payment, to demand the +whole sum at once, for fear of breaking the +Bank. So, leaning confidentially over the +counter, he whispered to the cashier, that he +wouldn’t be hard upon ’em. He knew times +were bad,—so, as it was all the same to him, +he would take five sovereigns now, and the +rest at so much a week. In like manner, +the fac-simile on the opposite page, while +it presents a specimen of one of the earliest +Bank Notes in existence, shows that the +holder took the amount as Jack proposed;—by +instalments. It was granted to Mr. Thomas +<span class='pageno' id='Page_431'>431</span>Powell, on the 19th of December, 1699, for +five hundred and fifty-five pounds. His first +draft was one hundred and thirty-one pounds, +ten shillings, and one penny; the second “in +gould,” three hundred and sixty; the third, +sixty-three pounds, nine shillings, and elevenpence, +when the note was retained by the +Bank as having been fully honoured.</p> + +<p class='c010'>With this curious specimen of the ancient +Bank of England Note, we take leave of the +modern ones—only, however, for a short time. +In a week or two, we shall change the topic +(as we have previously intimated) to one +closely bearing upon it. Circumstances, however, +demand that we should change the +subject of it at a much earlier date.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c003'>INNOCENCE AND CRIME.<br> <span class='c007'>AN ANECDOTE.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c015'>A benevolent old gentleman—the late +Mr. Harcourt Brown of Beech Hall—was +plodding his way home to his hotel from a +ramble in the suburbs of London; and having +made a bold attempt at “a short cut,” soon +found himself lost in a maze of squalid streets, +leading one into the other, and apparently +leading no where else. He inquired his way +in vain. From the first person, he received a +coarse jest; from another, a look of vacant +stupidity; a third eyed him in dogged silence. +He stepped with one foot into several wretched +little shops; but the people really seemed to +know nothing beyond the next street or alley, +except one man, a dealer in tripe, of a strange, +earthy colour, who called over his shoulder, +“Oh, you’re miles out o’ your way!” The +only exception to the general indifference, +rudeness and stupidity, was a thin sallow-cheeked +man, who had a fixed smile on his +face, and spoke in rather an abject cringing +tone of obsequiousness, and even walked up +one street and down a second to show Mr. +Brown the way. But it soon became evident +that he knew nothing about the matter, and +he slunk away with the same fixed unmeaning +smile.</p> + +<p class='c010'>In this state of affairs Mr. Brown buttoned +up his coat, and manfully resolved to work his +way out of this filthy locality by walking +straight forward.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Trudging onward at a smart pace, the +worthy gentleman presently heard the sound +of sobbing and crying, and behind the boards +of a shed at the side of a ruined hovel he saw +a girl of some nine or ten years of age, clasping +and unclasping her hands in a paroxysm +of grief and apprehension. “Oh, what <i>shall</i> +I do?—what <i>shall</i> I do?” sobbed the child.</p> + +<p class='c010'>She started with terror as Mr. Brown +approached, and hid her head in the folds +of her little apron; but on being assured by +the mild voice of Mr. Brown that he had +no thought of hurting her, she ventured to +look up. She had soft blue eyes, flaxen hair +of silvery glossiness, pretty features; and, +notwithstanding the stain of tears down a +cheek which had a smear of brickdust upon +it, had a most innocent and prepossessing face.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“What is the matter, my little girl?” inquired +Mr. Brown.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The child turned one shoulder half round, +and displayed the red and purple marks of +blows from a whip or stick.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“What cruel wretch has done this?” asked +Mr. Brown. “Tell me, child; tell me directly.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“It was mother,” sobbed the child.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“Ah—I’m sorry to hear this. Perhaps +you have been naughty?”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“Yes, Sir;” answered the child.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“Poor child,” ejaculated Mr. Brown; “but +you will not be naughty again. What was +your offence. Come, tell me?”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“I shook it, Sir; oh, yes, it’s quite true; I +did shake it very much.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“What did you shake?” inquired Mr. +Brown.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“I shook the doll, Sir.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“The doll! Oh, you mean you shook the +baby; that, certainly was naughty of you;” +said Mr. Brown.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“No, Sir; it was not the baby I shook—it +was the doll; and I’m afraid to go home—mother +will be sure to beat me again.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>An impulse of benevolence led Mr. Brown’s +hand to search for his purse. Had he tried +the wrong pocket? His purse was on the +other side. No, it was not—it must be in +this inner pocket. Where <i>is</i> Mr. Brown’s +purse? It is not in any of his pockets! +He tries them all over again. And his +pocket-book!—chiefly of memorandums, but +also having a few bank notes. This is gone +too—and his silk handkerchief—both his +handkerchiefs!—also his silver-gilt snuff-box, +filled with rappee only five minutes before he +left the hotel this morning—he is certain +he had it when he came out—but it is certainly +gone! Every single thing he had in +his pockets is gone.</p> + +<p class='c010'>The child also—now <i>she</i> is gone! Mr. +Brown looks around him, and yonder he sees +the poor child flying with frequent looks +behind of terror,—and now a shrill and +frightful voice causes him to start. Turning +in that direction, the sudden flight of the little +girl is immediately explained. Over the +rubbish and refuse, at a swift, wild pace, +courses a fiendish woman, with a savage eye +and open mouth, her cheeks hollow, her teeth +projecting, her thin hair flying like a bit of +diseased mane over her half-naked shoulder; +she has a stick in her hand, with which she +constantly threatens the flying child, whom +her execrations follow yet more swiftly than +her feet.</p> + +<p class='c010'>Mr. Brown remained watching them till +they were out of sight. He once more +searched all his pockets, but they were all +empty. He called to mind the man with the +fixed smile on his hollow cadaverous cheek, +and several other faces of men whom he had +casually noticed in the course of the last half +hour, thinking what a pity it was that something +<span class='pageno' id='Page_432'>432</span>could not be done for them. He now +began to think it was a very great pity that +something had not <i>already</i> been done for them +or with them, for they had certainly “done” +him. Poor Mr. Brown!</p> + +<p class='c010'>Some six or seven months after this most +disagreeable adventure, it chanced that Mr. +Brown was going over the prison at Coldbath +Fields, accompanied by the Governor. As +they entered one of the wards, the voice of a +child sobbing, attracted the ears of our philanthropist. +In answer to his inquiries, the +Governor informed him that it was a child of +about eleven years of age, who had been +detected in the act of picking a lady’s pocket +in one of the most crowded thoroughfares.</p> + +<p class='c010'>On a few kind words being spoken to her, +she looked up; and in the blue eye, glossy +flaxen hair, and pretty features, Mr. Brown +at once recognised the little girl who had +“shaken the doll.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“This child is an innocent creature!” cried +he, turning to the Governor, “the victim of +ignorance and cruel treatment at home. I recollect +her well. Her mother had beaten her +most shamefully; and the last glimpse I had +of her was in her flight from a still more savage +assault. And for what crime do you suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“For not picking pockets expertly, I dare +say:” replied the Governor.</p> + +<p class='c010'>“Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Mr. +Brown. “Would you believe it, Sir; it was +for nothing more than a childish bit of pretence-anger +with her doll, on which occasion +she gave the doll a good shaking. Mere pretence, +you know.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“My dear Sir,” said the Governor, smiling, +“I fancy I am right, after all. She was +beaten for not being expert in the study and +practice of pocket-picking at home. You are +not, perhaps, aware that the lesson consists +in picking the pockets of a figure which is +hung up in the room, in such a way that the +least awkwardness of touch makes it shake, +and rings a little bell attached to it. This +figure is called the ‘doll.’ Those who ring +the bell, shake it in emptying its pockets, are +punished according to the mind and temper +of the instructor.”</p> + +<p class='c010'>“Good heavens!” ejaculated Mr. Brown, +“to what perfection must the art be brought! +Then it is all accounted for. The sallow gentleman +with the fixed smile must have been +master of the craft of not shaking the doll, +when he took my purse, pocket-book, snuff-box, +and both handkerchiefs from me, without +my feeling so much as the motion of the air!”</p> + +<hr class='c016'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c011'> + <div>Monthly Supplement of “HOUSEHOLD WORDS,”</div> + <div>Conducted by <span class='sc'>Charles Dickens</span>.</div> + <div class='c001'><i>Price 2d., Stamped, 3d.</i>,</div> + <div><span class='large'>THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE</span></div> + <div>OF</div> + <div>CURRENT EVENTS.</div> + <div class='c001'><span class='small'><i>The Number, containing a history of the past month, was issued with the Magazines.</i></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c017'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c018'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1 c001'> + <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + + </li> + <li>Renumbered footnotes. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78183 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-03-11 12:49:23 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/78183-h/images/cover.jpg b/78183-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e23ea90 --- /dev/null +++ b/78183-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78183-h/images/ibanknote.jpg b/78183-h/images/ibanknote.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e59efeb --- /dev/null +++ b/78183-h/images/ibanknote.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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