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diff --git a/78185-0.txt b/78185-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f53a2b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/78185-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2343 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78185 *** + + + “_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE. + + + + + HOUSEHOLD WORDS. + A WEEKLY JOURNAL. + + + CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS. + + + N^{o.} 20.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 10, 1850. [PRICE 2_d._ + + + + + A DETECTIVE POLICE PARTY. + + +The fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air of +simplicity, began, with a rustic smile, and in a soft, wheedling tone of +voice, to relate the Butcher’s Story, thus: + +“It’s just about six years ago, now, since information was given at +Scotland Yard of there being extensive robberies of lawns and silks +going on, at some wholesale houses in the City. Directions were given +for the business being looked into; and Straw, and Fendall, and me, we +were all in it.” + +“When you received your instructions,” said we, “you went away, and held +a sort of Cabinet Council together?” + +The smooth-faced officer coaxingly replied, “Ye-es. Just so. We turned +it over among ourselves a good deal. It appeared, when we went into it, +that the goods were sold by the receivers extraordinarily cheap—much +cheaper than they could have been if they had been honestly come by. The +receivers were in the trade, and kept capital shops—establishments of +the first respectability—one of ’em at the West End, one down in +Westminster. After a lot of watching and inquiry, and this and that +among ourselves, we found that the job was managed, and the purchases of +the stolen goods made, at a little public-house near Smithfield, down by +Saint Bartholomew’s; where the Warehouse Porters, who were the thieves, +took ’em for that purpose, don’t you see? and made appointments to meet +the people that went between themselves and the receivers. This +public-house was principally used by journeymen butchers from the +country, out of place, and in want of situations; so, what did we do, +but—ha, ha, ha!—we agreed that I should be dressed up like a butcher +myself, and go and live there!” + +Never, surely, was a faculty of observation better brought to bear upon +a purpose, than that which picked out this officer for the part. Nothing +in all creation, could have suited him better. Even while he spoke, he +became a greasy, sleepy, shy, good-natured, chuckle-headed, +unsuspicious, and confiding young butcher. His very hair seemed to have +suet in it, as he made it smooth upon his head, and his fresh complexion +to be lubricated by large quantities of animal food. + +——“So I—ha, ha, ha!” (always with the confiding snigger of the foolish +young butcher) “so I dressed myself in the regular way, made up a little +bundle of clothes, and went to the public-house, and asked if I could +have a lodging there? They says, ‘yes, you can have a lodging here,’ and +I got a bedroom, and settled myself down in the tap. There was a number +of people about the place, and coming backwards and forwards to the +house; and first one says, and then another says, ‘Are you from the +country, young man?’ ‘Yes,’ I says, ‘I am. I’m come out of +Northamptonshire, and I’m quite lonely here, for I don’t know London at +all, and it’s such a mighty big town?’ ‘It _is_ a big town,’ they says. +‘Oh, it’s a _very_ big town!’ I says. ‘Really and truly I never was in +such a town. It quite confuses of me!’—and all that, you know. + +“When some of the Journeymen Butchers that used the house, found that I +wanted a place, they says, ‘Oh, we’ll get you a place!’ And they +actually took me to a sight of places, in Newgate Market, Newport +Market, Clare, Carnaby—I don’t know where all. But the wages was—ha, ha, +ha!—was not sufficient, and I never could suit myself, don’t you see? +Some of the queer frequenters of the house, were a little suspicious of +me at first, and I was obliged to be very cautious indeed, how I +communicated with Straw or Fendall. Sometimes, when I went out, +pretending to stop and look into the shop-windows, and just casting my +eye round, I used to see some of ’em following me; but, being perhaps +better accustomed than they thought for, to that sort of thing, I used +to lead ’em on as far as I thought necessary or convenient—sometimes a +long way—and then turn sharp round, and meet ’em, and say, ‘Oh, dear, +how glad I am to come upon you so fortunate! This London’s such a place, +I’m blowed if I an’t lost again!’ And then we’d go back all together, to +the public-house, and—ha, ha, ha! and smoke our pipes, don’t you see? + +“They were very attentive to me, I am sure. It was a common thing, while +I was living there, for some of ’em to take me out, and show me London. +They showed me the Prisons—showed me Newgate—and when they showed me +Newgate, I stops at the place where the Porters pitch their loads, and +says, ‘Oh dear,’ ‘is this where they hang the men! Oh Lor!’ ‘That!’ they +says, ‘what a simple cove he is! _That_ an’t it!’ And then, they pointed +out which _was_ it, and I says ‘Lor!’ and they says, ‘Now you’ll know it +agen, won’t you?’ And I said I thought I should if I tried hard—and I +assure you I kept a sharp look out for the City Police when we were out +in this way, for if any of ’em had happened to know me, and had spoke to +me, it would have been all up in a minute. However, by good luck such a +thing never happened, and all went on quiet: though the difficulties I +had in communicating with my brother officers were quite extraordinary. + +“The stolen goods that were brought to the public-house, by the +Warehouse Porters, were always disposed of in a back parlor. For a long +time, I never could get into this parlor, or see what was done there. As +I sat smoking my pipe, like an innocent young chap, by the tap-room +fire, I’d hear some of the parties to the robbery, as they came in and +out, say softly to the landlord, ‘Who’s that? What does _he_ do here?’ +‘Bless your soul,’ says the landlord, ‘He’s only a’—ha, ha, ha!—‘he’s +only a green young fellow from the country, as is looking for a +butcher’s sitiwation. Don’t mind _him_!’ So, in course of time, they +were so convinced of my being green, and got to be so accustomed to me, +that I was as free of the parlor as any of ’em, and I have seen as much +as Seventy Pounds worth of fine lawn sold there, in one night, that was +stolen from a warehouse in Friday Street. After the sale, the buyers +always stood treat—hot supper, or dinner, or what not—and they’d say on +those occasions ‘Come on, Butcher! Put your best leg foremost, young +’un, and walk into it!’ Which I used to do—and hear, at table, all +manner of particulars that it was very important for us Detectives to +know. + +“This went on for ten weeks. I lived in the public-house all the time, +and never was out of the Butcher’s dress—except in bed. At last, when I +had followed seven of the thieves, and set ’em to rights—that’s an +expression of ours, don’t you see, by which I mean to say that I traced +’em, and found out where the robberies were done, and all about +’em—Straw, and Fendall, and I, gave one another the office, and at a +time agreed upon, a descent was made upon the public-house, and the +apprehensions effected. One of the first things the officers did, was to +collar me—for the parties to the robbery weren’t to suppose yet, that I +was anything but a Butcher—on which the landlord cries out, ‘Don’t take +_him_,’ he says, ‘whatever you do! He’s only a poor young chap from the +country, and butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth!’ However, they—ha, ha, +ha!—they took me, and pretended to search my bedroom, where nothing was +found but an old fiddle belonging to the landlord, that had got there +somehow or another. But, it entirely changed the landlord’s opinion, for +when it was produced, he says ‘My fiddle! The Butcher’s a pur-loiner! I +give him into custody for the robbery of a musical instrument!’ + +“The man that had stolen the goods in Friday Street was not taken yet. +He had told me, in confidence, that he had his suspicions there was +something wrong (on account of the City Police having captured one of +the party), and that he was going to make himself scarce. I asked him, +‘Where do you mean to go, Mr. Shepherdson?’ ‘Why, Butcher,’ says he, +‘the Setting Moon, in the Commercial Road, is a snug house, and I shall +hang out there for a time. I shall call myself Simpson, which appears to +me to be a modest sort of a name. Perhaps you’ll give us a look in, +Butcher?’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I think I _will_ give you a call’—which I +fully intended, don’t you see, because, of course, he was to be taken! I +went over to the Setting Moon next day, with a brother officer, and +asked at the bar for Simpson. They pointed out his room, upstairs. As we +were going up, he looks down over the bannisters, and calls out, +‘Halloa, Butcher! is that you?’ ‘Yes, it’s me. How do you find +yourself?’ ‘Bobbish,’ he says; ‘but who’s that with you?’ ‘It’s only a +young man, that’s a friend of mine,’ I says. ‘Come along, then,’ says +he; ‘any friend of the Butcher’s is as welcome as the Butcher!’ So, I +made my friend acquainted with him, and we took him into custody. + +“You have no idea, Sir, what a sight it was, in Court, when they first +knew that I wasn’t a Butcher, after all! I wasn’t produced at the first +examination, when there was a remand; but I was, at the second. And when +I stepped into the box, in full police uniform, and the whole party saw +how they had been done, actually a groan of horror and dismay proceeded +from ’em in the dock! + +“At the Old Bailey, when their trials came on, Mr. Clarkson was engaged +for the defence, and he _couldn’t_ make out how it was, about the +Butcher. He thought, all along, it was a real Butcher. When the counsel +for the prosecution said, ‘I will now call before you, gentlemen, the +Police-officer,’ meaning myself, Mr. Clarkson says, ‘Why Police-officer? +Why more Police-officers? I don’t want Police. We have had a great deal +too much of the Police. I want the Butcher! However, Sir, he had the +Butcher and the Police-officer, both in one. Out of seven prisoners +committed for trial, five were found guilty, and some of ’em were +transported. The respectable firm at the West End got a term of +imprisonment; and that’s the Butcher’s Story!” + +The story done, the chuckle-headed Butcher again resolved himself into +the smooth-faced Detective. But, he was so extremely tickled by their +having taken him about, when he was that Dragon in disguise, to show him +London, that he could not help reverting to that point in his narrative; +and gently repeating, with the Butcher snigger, “‘Oh, dear!’ I says, ‘is +that where they hang the men? Oh, Lor!’ ‘_That!_’ says they. ‘What a +simple cove he is!’” + +It being now late, and the party very modest in their fear of being too +diffuse, there were some tokens of separation; when Serjeant Dornton, +the soldierly-looking man, said, looking round him with a smile: + +“Before we break up, Sir, perhaps you might have some amusement in +hearing of the Adventures of a Carpet Bag. They are very short; and, I +think, curious.” + +We welcomed the Carpet Bag, as cordially as Mr. Shepherdson welcomed the +false Butcher at the Setting Moon. Serjeant Dornton proceeded: + +“In 1847, I was dispatched to Chatham, in search of one Mesheck, a Jew. +He had been carrying on, pretty heavily, in the bill-stealing way, +getting acceptances from young men of good connexions (in the army +chiefly), on pretence of discount, and bolting with the same. + +“Mesheck was off, before I got to Chatham. All I could learn about him +was, that he had gone, probably to London, and had with him—a Carpet +Bag. + +“I came back to town, by the last train from Blackwall, and made +inquiries concerning a Jew passenger with—a Carpet Bag. + +“The office was shut up, it being the last train. There were only two or +three porters left. Looking after a Jew with a Carpet Bag, on the +Blackwall Railway, which was then the high road to a great Military +Depôt, was worse than looking after a needle in a hayrick. But it +happened that one of these porters had carried, for a certain Jew, to a +certain public-house, a certain—Carpet Bag. + +“I went to the public-house, but the Jew had only left his luggage there +for a few hours, and had called for it in a cab, and taken it away. I +put such questions there, and to the porter, as I thought prudent, and +got at this description of—the Carpet Bag. + +“It was a bag which had, on one side of it, worked in worsted, a green +parrot on a stand. A green parrot on a stand was the means by which to +identify that—Carpet Bag. + +“I traced Mesheck, by means of this green parrot on a stand, to +Cheltenham, to Birmingham, to Liverpool, to the Atlantic Ocean. At +Liverpool he was too many for me. He had gone to the United States, and +I gave up all thoughts of Mesheck, and likewise of his—Carpet Bag. + +“Many months afterwards—near a year afterwards—there was a Bank in +Ireland robbed of seven thousand pounds, by a person of the name of +Doctor Dundey, who escaped to America; from which country some of the +stolen notes came home. He was supposed to have bought a farm in New +Jersey. Under proper management, that estate could be seized and sold, +for the benefit of the parties he had defrauded. I was sent off to +America for this purpose. + +“I landed at Boston. I went on to New York. I found that he had lately +changed New York paper-money for New Jersey paper-money, and had banked +cash in New Brunswick. To take this Doctor Dundey, it was necessary to +entrap him into the State of New York, which required a deal of artifice +and trouble. At one time, he couldn’t be drawn into an appointment. At +another time, he appointed to come to meet me, and a New York officer, +on a pretext I made; and then his children had the measles. At last, he +came, per steamboat, and I took him, and lodged him in a New York Prison +called the Tombs; which I dare say you know, Sir?” + +Editorial acknowledgment to that effect. + +“I went to the Tombs, on the morning after his capture, to attend the +examination before the magistrate. I was passing through the +magistrate’s private room, when, happening to look round me to take +notice of the place, as we generally have a habit of doing, I clapped my +eyes, in one corner, on a—Carpet Bag. + +“What did I see upon that Carpet Bag, if you’ll believe me, but a green +parrot on a stand, as large as life! + +“‘That Carpet Bag, with the representation of a green parrot on a +stand,’ said I, ‘belongs to an English Jew, named Aaron Mesheck, and to +no other man, alive or dead!’ + +“I give you my word the New York Police-officers were doubled up with +surprise. + +“‘How do you ever come to know that?’ said they. + +“‘I think I ought to know that green parrot by this time,’ said I; ‘for +I have had as pretty a dance after that bird, at home, as ever I had, in +all my life!’” + + +“And _was_ it Mesheck’s?” we submissively inquired. + +“Was it, Sir? Of course it was! He was in custody for another offence, +in that very identical Tombs, at that very identical time. And, more +than that! Some memoranda, relating to the fraud for which I had vainly +endeavoured to take him, were found to be, at that moment, lying in that +very same individual—Carpet Bag!” + + +Such are the curious coincidences and such is the peculiar ability, +always sharpening and being improved by practice, and always adapting +itself to every variety of circumstances, and opposing itself to every +new device that perverted ingenuity can invent, for which this important +social branch of the public service is remarkable! For ever on the +watch, with their wits stretched to the utmost, these officers have, +from day to day and year to year, to set themselves against every +novelty of trickery and dexterity that the combined imaginations of all +the lawless rascals in England can devise, and to keep pace with every +such invention that comes out. In the Courts of Justice, the materials +of thousands of such stories as we have narrated—often elevated into the +marvellous and romantic, by the circumstances of the case—are dryly +compressed into the set phrase, “in consequence of information I +received, I did so and so.” Suspicion was to be directed, by careful +inference and deduction, upon the right person; the right person was to +be taken, wherever he had gone, or whatever he was doing to avoid +detection: he is taken; there he is at the bar; that is enough. From +information I, the officer, received, I did it; and, according to the +custom in these cases, I say no more. + +These games of chess, played with live pieces, are played before small +audiences, and are chronicled nowhere. The interest of the game supports +the player. Its results are enough for Justice. To compare great things +with small, suppose LEVERRIER or ADAMS informing the public that from +information he had received he had discovered a new planet; or COLUMBUS +informing the public of his day that from information he had received, +he had discovered a new continent; so the Detectives inform it that they +have discovered a new fraud or an old offender, and the process is +unknown. + +Thus, at midnight, closed the proceedings of our curious and interesting +party. But one other circumstance finally wound up the evening, after +our Detective guests had left us. One of the sharpest among them, and +the officer best acquainted with the Swell Mob, had his pocket picked, +going home! + + + + + HEALTH BY ACT OF PARLIAMENT. + + +There was a story current in the city of Mosul, about the time that the +first edition of “The Hundred and One Nights” began to be popular in +Oriental society, of a certain Prince who was taken ill of the plague. +Though his retinue was large, he was the only person who was in imminent +danger. The Court physician was also at death’s door, and a strange +doctor was sent for, who pronounced the Great Man to be in a fearful +state of debility, but retired without prescribing. The Prince waited +long and anxiously for remedies, but in vain. He clapped his hands to +summon a slave. “Where,” he exclaimed, “is the physic?” + +“Sun of the Earth,” exclaimed the Nubian, “it is all taken!” + +“And who has dared to swallow the medicine designed for the anointed of +Allah?” + +“As it is written by the Prophet,” returned Hassan, “‘when the sheik +sickens, his slaves droop.’ Thy whole household was sick, and clamoured +for medicine; and, lo, the man of drugs straightway drenched them +therewith, ordering us all, on pain of the Prophet’s curse, not to give +thee so much as a single grain of rhubarb.” + +“Breath of Mahomet,” ejaculated his Mightiness; “am I then to die, and +are my slaves to live?” + +When a Mussulman is puzzled what to say, he invariably exclaims, “Allah +is merciful;” which was Hassan’s consolation. + +“Let the wretched mediciner appear!” commanded the Prince. + +The doctor came. “Illustrious father of a hundred generations!” said the +general practitioner, “thine own physician only could cure thee, and he +lies on his pallet a helpless being. _I_ may not so much as look at thy +transcendant tongue, or feel thine omnipotent pulse.” + +“Wherefore? O licenciate of the Destroyer!” + +“Inasmuch as I may not infringe the _vested rights_ of thine own special +and appointed physician. The law—even that of the Medes and Persians, +which never altereth—forbids me. Thy slaves I _may_ heal, seeing that no +vested rights in them exist; but——” + +Here the Prince interrupted the speaker with a hollow groan, and sank on +his pillow in despair. + +The Arabic manuscript, from which this affecting incident was +translated, ends with these words—“and the Prince died.” + +This story is evidently a foreshadowing of what has recently happened in +reference to the metropolis of this country and the Public Health Act. +London was _in extremis_ from the effects of density of population, +filth, bad air, bad water, the window-tax, and deficient drainage. It +called in certain sanitary doctors—the regular consulting body, namely, +the Government, being too weak to afford the slightest assistance. The +result was, that a prescription, in the form of the Public Health Act, +was concocted,—but was made applicable to every other member of the +great retinue of towns, _except_ to the Imperial City; which was +exempted in consequence of the existing Vested Rights in crowded houses, +deadly stenches, putrid water, foggy courts, and cesspools. “Although,” +in the words of a resolution, passed at the meeting which formed the +Metropolitan Sanitary Association, “the strenuous efforts made in the +metropolitan districts to procure a sanitary enactment mainly +contributed to the passing of the Public Health Act; yet these districts +were the only parts excluded from the benefits of that enactment. This +exclusion has led to much misery and a great sacrifice of life.” + +This exception was so monstrous, that even the Corporation of the City +of London took powers under their own Sewers’ Act for the preservation +of the health of the people dwelling within the City boundary,—who +number no more than one hundred and twenty-five thousand out of the two +millions of us who are congregated in civic and suburban London. The +remaining one million eight hundred thousand are left to be stifled or +diseased at the good pleasure of Vested Interests. Indeed, it is +ascertained that a quarter of a million of individuals absolutely _do_ +die every year from the want of such a sanitary police as the Public +Health Act, amended by some few additional powers, would establish. What +number of persons are really sent out of the world from preventable +causes. It is also true that those causes can be efficiently removed for +about a halfpenny per head a week; or threepence per week per house; or +about eight times less than those who die unnecessarily cost the public +in hospitals, poor’s rates, and burial. In the “Journal of Public +Health” for November, 1848, and August, 1849, it is shown by elaborate +tables, that the direct cost of, and estimated money loss through, +typhus fever alone in the metropolis, amounted during the four years, +1843–1847, to one million three hundred and twenty-eight thousand +pounds, or two hundred and sixty-five thousand, six hundred pounds +annually. This sum is exclusive of the amounts contributed for the +purchase and maintenance of fever hospitals. For 1848, when the +mortality from typhus had increased to three thousand five hundred and +sixty-nine, the direct cost and money loss was estimated at four hundred +and forty thousand pounds. + +This cold-blooded way of putting the really appalling state of the case +is, alas! the only successful mode of appealing to that hard-headed, +though sometimes soft-hearted, periphrasis, John Bull, when he is under +no special exciting cause of dread. His heart is only reached through +his pocket, except when put in a state of alarm. Cry “Cholera!” or any +other frightful conjuration, and he bestirs himself. To cholera we owe +the few sanitary measures now in force; but which were passed by the +House—as a coward may seem courageous—in its agonies of fright. The +moment, however, Cholera bulletins ceased to be issued, John buttoned up +his pockets tighter than ever, and Parliament was dumb regarding public +health, except to undo one or two good things it had done. The inflated +promises of the legislature collapsed into thin air, on the very day the +danger was withdrawn. It was the legend over again of the nameless +gentleman who, when he was sick, swore he would turn a monk; but when he +got well “the devil a monk was he.” Ever since, sanitary legislation has +been as much a dead letter in the Metropolis, as if the deadly condition +of some of its districts had never been whispered between the wind and +the nobility of Westminster, in Parliament assembled. + +It has no effect upon unreasoning John Bull to tell him that, on an +average, cholera does not devour a tithe of the victims which fever, +consumption, and other preventible diseases make away with. Cholera +comes upon him like an ogre, eating its victims all at once, and he +quakes with terror; the daily, deadly destruction of human beings by +“every-day” diseases, he takes no heed of. Take him, however, a slate +and pencil; count costs to him; show that cholera costs so much; that +ordinary, contagious, but preventible diseases, cost so much more; and +that prevention is so many hundred per cent. cheaper than the cheapest +cures, he begins to be amenable to reason. Nothing but pocket +arithmetic, terror, or melo-dramatic appeals to his soft-hearted +sympathy, moves John Bull. + +In order to supply the best of these exercitations by the accumulation +of carefully sifted, and well authenticated facts, and sound reasonings; +the results of scientific investigations, and of a large range of +pathological statistics, the Metropolitan Sanitary Association has been +for some months—like another “Ole Joe”—knocking at the door of Old John. +Whether the heavy old gentleman will soon open it to conviction and +improvement depends, we think, very much upon the energy and liberality +with which that society is supported and seconded by the public; for +whose sole benefit it was called into existence. To the exertions of +many of its leading members, if not to the collective body itself, John +Bull has responded, by admitting into his premises the Extra-Mural +Interment Bill, and we think he is just now holding his door a-jar to +catch the Water Supply Bill, which it is hoped he will admit, and pass +through That House next session. Meantime we, in common with the +association aforesaid, beg his attention to a few other points of +improvement:— + +The adage “as free as air,” has become obsolete by Act of Parliament. +Neither air nor light have been free since the imposition of the +window-tax. We are obliged to pay for what nature supplies lavishly to +all, at so much per window per year; and the poor who cannot afford the +expense, are stinted in two of the most urgent necessities of life. The +effects produced by a deprivation of them are not immediate, and are +therefore unheeded. When a poor man or woman in a dark, close, smoky +house is laid up with scrofula, consumption, water in the head, wasting, +or a complication of epidemic diseases, nobody thinks of attributing the +illness to the right cause;—which may be a want of light and air. If he +or she were struck down by a flash of lightning, there would be an +immediate outcry against the authorities, whoever they may be, for not +providing proper lightning conductors; but because the poison—generated +by the absence of light and air—is not seen at work, the victim dies +unheeded, and the window-tax, which shuts out the remedies, is continued +without a murmur. In illustration of these facts, we may quote a little +information respecting the tadpole, an humble animal, which—if the +author of “Vestiges of Creation” be any authority and the theory of +development be more than a childish dream—was the progenitor of man +himself. The passage is from the report of the half-fledged Health of +Towns’ Commission:— + +“If the young of some of the lower tribes of creatures are supplied with +their proper food, and if all the other conditions necessary for their +nourishment are maintained, while at the same time light is wholly +excluded from them, their development is stopped; they no longer undergo +the metamorphosis through which they pass from imperfect into perfect +beings; the tadpole, for example, is unable to change its +water-breathing apparatus, fitted for its first stage of existence, into +the air-breathing apparatus, with the rudiment of which it is furnished, +and which is intended to adapt it for a higher life, namely, for +respiration in air. In this imperfect state it continues to live; it +even attains an enormous bulk, for such a creature in its state of +transition, but it is unable to pass out of its transitional state; it +remains permanently an imperfect being, and is doomed to pass a +perpetual life in water, instead of attaining maturity and passing its +mature life in air.” + +It may give some support to the theory of tadpole development above +mentioned, to add, that the same cause produces the very same effects +upon human beings; upon human mothers, and upon human children. Human +mothers living in dark cellars produce an unusual proportion of +defective children. Go into the narrow streets, and the dark lanes, +courts, and alleys of our splendid cities, there you will see an unusual +number of deformed people, men, women, and children, but particularly +children. In some cells under the fortifications of Lisle, a number of +poor people took up their abode; the proportion of defective infants +produced by them became so great, that it was deemed necessary to issue +an order commanding these cells to be shut up. The window duties +multiply cells like those of the fortifications of Lisle, in London, in +Liverpool, in Manchester, in Bristol, and in every city and town in +England by hundreds and by thousands, and with the same result; but the +cells here are not shut up, nor is the cause that produces them removed. +Even in cases in which the absence of light is not so complete as to +produce a result thus definite and striking, the effects of the +privation are still abundantly manifest in the pale and sickly +complexion, and the enfeebled and stunted frame; nor can it be +otherwise, since, from the essential constitution of organised beings, +light is as necessary to the development of the animal as it is to the +growth of the plant. The diseases the want of it produces are of long +continuance, and waste the means of life before death results; they may +therefore be characterised as pauperising diseases. As to death itself, +it has been calculated that nearly ten thousand persons perish annually +in London alone from diseases solely produced by an impeded circulation +of air and admission of light. + +This prodigal waste of health, strength, and of life itself, falls much +more heavily on the poor, than the mere fiscal burden, imposed by the +tax, falls on the richer classes. Inasmuch, then, as health is the +capital of the working man, whatever be the necessities of the state, +_nothing_ can justify a tax affecting the health of the people, and +especially the health of the labouring community, whose bodily strength +constitutes their wealth, and oftentimes their only possession. In +conclusion we may say, without wishing to libel any respectable Act of +Parliament, that the Window-Tax kills countless human beings in tens of +thousands every year. + +The next improvement which must speedily be pushed under John Bull’s +very nose, is the removal of the nuisances which abound in crowded +neighbourhoods from Land’s End to John o’Groats. The back-yards of +houses in poor neighbourhoods are so many gardens, sown broadcast with +the seeds of disease, and but too plentifully manured for abundant and +continual crops. When rain falls on the surface of these parterres of +poison, and is afterwards evaporated by the heat of the sun, there rises +a malaria, intensified by decomposing refuse, which, inhaled into human +lungs, engenders consumption, ending in the parish workhouse and death. +It is a fact that the surfaces of some of the back-yards in London have +been raised six feet by successive accumulations of vegetable and animal +refuse. We must have no more such accumulations; offal of every kind +must be removed daily by Act of Parliament. + +Ill-kept stables, which cause horses to become blind, and men to die of +typhus, must be reformed; cow-feeding sheds, which produce diseased milk +and offensive refuse, must be abolished, and milk supplied per railway +from the country; disgusting and noxious manufactures, such as are +carried on a few yards west of Lambeth Palace, on the river’s bank, must +be removed to consort with knackers’ yards, in places remote from human +habitations. + +The strong bar which John Bull opposes to such improvements is the dread +of the Centralisation, which, he says, carrying them into effect would +occasion. Local Government, he insists, is the great bulwark of the +British Constitution. No bill is ever brought into Parliament for the +good of the people,—that is well known,—but is passed for the sake of +the places it creates, and the patronage it gives. Now, if we allow a +practicable bill for the removal of these nuisances to pass, a swarm of +commissioners, secretaries, clerks, inspectors, inquisitors, dustmen, +and scavengers will be let loose upon the contented public, to supersede +snug, comfortable, local boards, and to ruin innocent contractors. “Is,” +John asks vehemently, “this to be borne?” and answers himself with equal +emphasis, “Decidedly not. We prefer the nuisances.” But common sense +steps in to reply, that as nuisances are a matter of taste, if every +board could confine its own nuisances to its own parish so as not to +take its neighbours by the nose, there would, perhaps, be no harm in +letting it doze and wallow in its own filth as long as its taste would +dictate. But as this is impossible, centralisation or no centralisation, +Government, or somebody else, _must_ interfere to protect the +extra-parochial lieges from destruction, by upsetting the Board and +removing the rest of the nuisances. + +A practical example of the impossibility of confining noxious nuisances +to the boundaries whence they originate, is afforded in the immediate +neighbourhood of one of the most beautiful parts of the metropolis. In a +neighbourhood studded thickly with elegant villas and mansions—namely, +Bayswater and Notting Hill, in the parish of Kensington—is a plague spot +scarcely equalled for its insalubrity by any other in London: it is +called the Potteries. It comprises some seven or eight acres, with about +two hundred and sixty houses (if the term can be applied to such +hovels), and a population of nine hundred or one thousand. The +occupation of the inhabitants is principally pig-fattening; many +hundreds of pigs, ducks, and fowls are kept in an incredible state of +filth. Dogs abound for the purpose of guarding the swine. The atmosphere +is still further polluted by the process of fat-boiling. In these hovels +discontent, dirt, filth, and misery, are unsurpassed by anything known +even in Ireland. Water is supplied to only a small proportion of the +houses. There are foul ditches, open sewers, and defective drains, +smelling most offensively, and generating large quantities of poisonous +gases; stagnant water is found at every turn, not a drop of _clean_ +water can be obtained,—all is charged to saturation with putrescent +matter. Wells have been sunk on some of the premises, but they have +become, in many instances, useless from organic matter soaking into +them; in some of the wells the water is perfectly black and fetid. The +paint on the window frames has become black from the action of +sulphuretted hydrogen gas. Nearly all the inhabitants look unhealthy, +the women especially complain of sickness, and want of appetite; their +eyes are shrunken, and their skin shrivelled. + +The poisonous influence of this pestilential locality extends far and +wide. Some twelve or thirteen hundred feet off there is a row of clean +houses, called Crafter Terrace; the situation, though rather low, is +open and airy. On Saturday and Sunday, the 8th and 9th of September, +1849, the inhabitants complained of an intolerable stench, the wind then +blowing directly upon the Terrace from the Potteries. Up to this time, +there had been no case of cholera among the inhabitants; but the next +day the disease broke out virulently, and on the following day, the 11th +of September, a child died of cholera at No. 1. By the 22nd of the same +month, no less than seven persons in the Terrace lost their lives by +this fatal malady. + +It would be thought, that such a state of things could not have been +permitted to remain undisturbed, but merely required to be brought to +light to be remedied. The medical officers have, time after time, +reported the condition of the place to the Board of Guardians. Fifteen +medical men have testified to the unhealthy state of the Potteries. The +inspector of nuisances has done the same. The magistrates have +repeatedly granted orders for the removal of the pigs. The General Board +of Health have given directions that all the nuisances should be +removed, yet nothing, or next to nothing, has been done. The inspector +of nuisances has been dismissed, the guardians have signified their +intention to inspect the districts themselves, yet things remain in +_statu quo_. + +Is there then no possibility of cleansing this more than Augean stable? +None: the single but insurmountable difficulty being that some of the +worst parts of the district are the property of one of the guardians! + +Surely the force of self-government can no farther go. Another word in +defence of centralisation—the great bugbear of the self-conceited parish +orator—would be wasted. + +In conclusion, we earnestly call on the public to second and support the +efforts of the Metropolitan Sanitary Association to get the evils we +have adverted to lessened or wholly removed. The rapid increase of the +population demands additional exertion and additional arrangements for +their well-being. At present, retrogression instead of improvement +assails us. It is an appalling fact, that the number of persons dying of +the class of diseases called preventible has been steadily increasing. +Mr. Farr, of the Registrar-General’s office, has declared there could be +no question that the health of London is becoming worse every year. In +1846, the number of persons dying of zymotic or epidemic diseases was +about nineteen per cent. of the total mortality; in 1847, it was +twenty-eight per cent.; in 1848, thirty-four per cent.; and last year it +increased to forty-one per cent.; thus showing that nearly one-half of +the mortality of London was more or less owing to preventible causes. + +To reverse this state of things the people of this country must not wait +for another great and fatal Fright. We know that typhus fever and +consumption, like open drains and stinking water, are mean, commonplace, +unexciting instruments of death, which do not get invested with dramatic +interest; yet they kill as unerringly as the knife or the bullet of the +assassin; only they murder great multitudes instead of single +individuals. If, therefore, he will only fix his eyes on the victims of +the diseases which can be easily prevented, it is well worth John Bull’s +while to consider whether substantially it is not as sound a policy to +save a million or two of lives per annum, as to hang the hero and +heroine of a Bermondsey murder. + + + + + WHAT THERE IS IN THE ROOF OF THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS. + + +Perhaps no one of the London Squares is more full of interesting +associations, and certainly no one of them is more fresh and pleasant to +look upon, than Lincoln’s Inn Fields. In the centre of its green Lord +William Russell was beheaded; upon the old wall that used to run along +its eastern side Ben Jonson, it is said, worked as a bricklayer; amongst +its north range of buildings stands the thin sandwich of a house that +holds the manifold artistic gems of the Soane Museum; its west side was +the scene of some of Lord George Gordon’s riotings; whilst on its south +side stands the noble-looking Grecian fronted building dedicated to the +purposes of the English College of Surgeons. + +This building has many uses, and many points challenging general +admiration and approval, the chief of them being its possession of the +museum made by John Hunter; afterwards purchased, and now supported, by +the nation; and open freely, not only to medical men of all countries, +but to the public at large. The visitor who passes under its handsome +portico, up the steps and enters its heavy mahogany and plate-glass +doors, finds himself in a large hall. On his right is a staid-looking, +black-robed porter, who requires him to enter his name in the visitor’s +book—a preliminary which members equally with strangers have to go +through. On his left are the doors leading to the secretary’s office, +where students may, from time to time, be seen going in to register +their attendance upon the prescribed lectures, and, later in their +career, passing through the same portals big with the desperate +announcement that they are ready to submit to the examinations that must +be passed before they can get a diploma. Facing the entrance door is a +second enclosed hall, with a roof supported by fluted columns, and on +the left of this a broad stately architectural stone staircase leading +to the library and the council-chamber—the scene of those dreadful +ordeals, the examinations, where Hospital Surgeons sit surrounded by +crimson and gold, and marble busts, and noble pictures, to _operate_ +upon sweating and stuttering and hesitating students who, two by two, +are seated in large chairs to be passed or _plucked_. + +The library is a noble, large room, of excellent proportions, occupying +the whole length of the building in front, having tall plate-glass +embayed windows, each with its table and chair; and in each of which the +passersby in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, may generally see a live surgeon +framed and glazed, busily occupied with his books, or still more busily +helping to keep up the tide of gossip for which the place is celebrated. +For some twenty feet from the floor on all sides, the walls are lined +with books, telling in various languages about all kinds of maladies and +all sorts of plans for cure. Above this, and just under the handsomely +panelled roof, hang portraits of old surgeons, each famous in his time, +and now enjoying a sort of quiet renown amongst their successors in the +art and science of chirurgery. All we have seen thus far, betokens the +quiet repose of wealth, dignity, and learned leisure and ease. No +bustle, no noise, no trace of urgent labour is heard or seen. Such of +the officers of the place as may be encountered, have a look of +somnolent if not sleek sufficiency, and seem to claim a share of the +consideration which all are ready to concede, as due to the character of +the spot. Returning to the hall, another door, facing that of the +secretary, leads to the great attraction and pride of the place—the +Hunterian Museum—a collection of skeletons and glittering rows of +bottles full of evidences how “fearfully and wonderfully” all living +creatures are made. On all sides we see the bony relics of defunct men +and animals—giants, dwarfs, both human and quadruped, challenging +attention. The huge megatherium, the bones of poor Chuny, the elephant +shot in Exeter ’Change, the skeleton of O’Brien the Irish giant, who +walked about the world eight feet high, and near him all that remains of +the form of the Sicilian dwarf, who when alive was not taller than +O’Brien’s knee. On the walls tier after tier of bottles are ranged, till +the eye following them up towards the top of the building, fatigued by +their innumerable abundance, and the variety of their contents, again +seeks the ground and its tables, there to encounter an almost equal +crowd of curious things collected from the earth, the air, and the sea, +to show how infinite the varieties in which Nature indulges, and how +almost more than infinite the curious ways in which life varies the +tenement it inhabits. But with this multiplicity of things we see no +confusion, or trace of carelessness or poverty. All is neatness, order, +and repose. Not a particle of dirt offends the eye; not a film of dust +dims the brilliancy of the regiments of bottles drawn up in long files +upon the shelves, to salute the visitor. The place is a very +drawing-room of science, all polished and set forth in trim order for +the reception of the public. It is the best room in the house kept for +the display of _the results_ of the labours of the physiologist,—a spot +devoted to the revelations of anatomy, without the horrifying +accompaniments of the dissecting-room. + +Thus far we have passed through what are in truth the public portions of +the College of Surgeons, just glancing at its museum, unequalled as a +physiological collection by any other in the world. In their surprise at +the curious things it contains, there are many, no doubt, who wonder +also where the things all came from; and what patient men have gone on +since John Hunter’s time, adding to his museum where it was deficient +and keeping all its parts in their present admirable state. Such a +question, if put to the officials, would most likely obtain a very vague +and misty reply; but a glance behind the scenes at the College will +afford an ample and curious explanation, and show how one section of the +Searchers for Facts, silently and unheeded, work on in their +self-chosen, quiet, scientific path—undisturbed by the noises and the +bustle, the excitements and the strife of the modern Babylon, that +heaves and throbs around them. + +Leave the handsome rooms, with their clear light, and polish, and air of +neatness, and come with us up the side stair that leads to the unshown +recesses, where, high up in the roof, the workers in anatomy carry on +their strange duties. As we open the side door that leads towards these +secret chambers, we should go from daylight to darkness, were it not for +the gas that is kept burning there. Up the stairs we go, and as we +ascend, the way becomes lighter and lighter as we rise, but the stone +steps soon change for wooden ones, and at length bring us from the +silent stairs to a silent and gloomy-looking passage, having three doors +opening into it, and some contrivances overhead for letting in a little +light, and letting out certain odours that here abound,—greatly to the +discomfort of the novice who first inhales them. We are now in the roof +of the building, and on getting a glimpse through a window, we may see +the housetops are below us, the only companions of our elevation being a +number of neighbouring church-spires. + +The feeling of the spot is one of almost complete isolation from the +world below, and a neighbourhood to something startling if not almost +terrible. Like Fatima in Bluebeard’s Tower, impelled by an overbearing +curiosity, we turn the lock of the centre door, and enter the chamber. A +strange sight is presented. The room is large, with the sloping +roof-beams above, and a stained and uncovered floor below. The walls all +round are crowded with shelves, covered with bottles of various sizes +full of the queerest-looking of all queer things. Many are of a bright +vermilion colour; others yellow; others brown; others black; whilst +others again display the opaque whiteness of bloodless death. Three +tables are in the room, but these are as crowded as the walls. Cases of +instruments, microscopes, tall jars, cans, a large glass globe full of +water-newts, hydras, and mosses; small cases of drawers filled with +microscopic objects, and a thousand other odds and ends. Here is a long +coil of snake’s eggs, just brought from a country stable-yard; there +some ears of diseased wheat, sent by a noble landlord who studies +farming; beside them lies part of a leaf of the gigantic water-lily, the +Victoria Regia, and near that a portion of a vegetable marrow is +macerating in a saucer to separate some peculiar vessels for exhibition +under the microscope. There are two windows to the room, besides some +ventilators in the roof; and before one of these, where the light is +best, are ranged microscopes complete and ready for use, and round about +them all sorts of scraps of glass and glaziers’ diamonds, and +watch-glasses, and forceps, and scissors, and bottles of marine-glue, +and of gold-size,—these being the means and appliances of the +microscopic observer. Before the second window is a sink, in which stand +jars of frogs and newts, and other small creatures. A lathe, a desk, and +writing utensils, the model of a whale cast ashore in the Thames, an old +stiff-backed wooden chair, once the seat of the Master of the Worshipful +Company of Surgeons, a few cases of stuffed birds and animals, and some +tall glass-stoppered bottles that went twice round the world with +Captain Cook and Dr. Solander, make up the catalogue of the chief +contents of an apartment, which, at first glance, has the look of an +auctioneer’s room filled with the sold-off stock of a broken down +anatomical teacher. A closer inspection, however, shows that though +there is so great a crowd of objects, there is little or no confusion, +and the real meaning of the place, its intention, and labours, reveal +themselves. + +We are in a storeroom of the strange productions of all corners of the +earth, from the air above and from the waters below. Every particle in +every bottle that looks perhaps to the uninitiated eye only a mass of +bad fish preserved in worse pickle, has its value. A thin slice of it +taken out and placed under the microscope, illustrates some law of the +animal economy, or displays, perhaps, some long undiscovered fact, or +shows to the surprise of the gazer, a series of lines beautifully +arranged, or perhaps curiously mingled, and rich in their figured +combinations as the frozen moisture of a window-frame on a winter’s +morning. To this room as to a general centre come contributions from all +corners of the earth; the donors being chiefly medical men employed on +expeditions, or in the public service, though other medicos, who go to +seek fortune in strange lands, often remember their alma mater, and pack +up a bottle of curious things “to send to the College.” Doctors on +shipboard, doctors with armies, doctors in Arctic ships, or on Niger +expeditions; in the far regions of Hindûstan, and in the fogs and storms +of Labrador, think now and then of their “dissecting days,” and of the +noble collection in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, which every true student feels +bound to honour, and to help to make complete. Many, when going forth +into distant countries, are supplied from this place with bottles +specially adapted to receive objects in request, and receive also a +volume of instructions, how the specimens may be best preserved. “When a +quadruped is too large to be secured whole, cut off the portion of the +head containing the teeth,” says one direction. “If no more can be +done,” says another, “preserve the heart and great blood-vessels.” “Of a +full-grown whale,” says a third of these notes, “send home the eyes with +the surrounding skin, their muscles and fat in an entire mass.” “When +many specimens of a rare and curious bird are procured, the heads of a +few should be taken off and preserved in spirit.” “When alligators and +crocodiles are too large to be preserved whole, secure some part. The +bones of such things are especially desirable. Secure also the eggs in +different stages.” “Snakes may be preserved whole, or in part, +especially the heads, for the examination of their teeth and fangs.” +“Eyes of fishes are proper objects of preservation.” Such are a few of +the hints sent forth to their medical disciples by the College, and the +fruits of the system are a bountiful supply. Never a week passes but +something rare or curious makes its appearance in Lincoln’s Inn Fields; +sometimes from one quarter, sometimes from another, but there is always +something coming, either by messenger or parcel-cart. Apart from these +foreign sources, there are other contributaries to the general stock. +Country doctors and hospital surgeons, from time to time, send in their +quota; the Zoological Society likewise contribute all their dead +animals. When the elephant died at the Regent’s Park Gardens, a College +student and an assistant were busily occupied for days dissecting the +huge animal. When the rhinoceros expired at the same place, a portion of +its viscera was hailed as a prize; and when the whale was cast, not long +ago, upon the shores of the Thames, the watermen who claimed it as their +booty, steamed off to the College to find a customer for portions of the +unwieldy monster; nor were they disappointed. Beyond all these, there +still remains another searcher out of materials for the scalpel and the +microscope. He is a character in his way. By trade, half +cattle-slaughterer half-oysterman, he is by choice a sort of dilettante +anatomist. One day he is killing oxen and sheep in Clare Market, and the +next is scouring the same market for morbid specimens “for Mr. Quickett, +at the College.” He knows an unhealthy sheep by its looks, and watches +its post mortem with the eye of a savant. Many a choice specimen has he +caught up in his time from amongst the offal and garbage of that +fustiest of markets in the fustiest of neighbourhoods. Indeed, through +him, all that is unusual in ox, calf, sheep, fish, or fowl, found within +the confines of Clare Market, finds its way to the “work shop” of the +College to be investigated by scalpel and microscope. When a butcher is +known to have any diseased sheep, our collector hovers about his +slaughter-house, and that which is bad food for the public, often +affords him and his patron a prize. He is a sort of jackal for the +anatomists—a kind of cadger in the service of science—a veritable +snatcher-up of ill-conditioned trifles. + +Returning to the room in the College roof, where the general cornucopia +of strange things is emptied, we find its presiding genius in Mr. +Quekett, a quiet enthusiast in his way, who goes on from month to month +and year to year, watching, working, and chronicling such facts as can +be made out. When a novelty comes in, it is examined, described, +investigated by the microscope; and, if worthy, is sketched on stone for +printing. It is then catalogued, and placed in spirit for +preservation—minute portions, perhaps, being mounted on glass as objects +for the microscope. Thus disposed of, it becomes a “store preparation.” +From this store the lectures at the College are illustrated by examples; +and from it also are the bright bottles in the Hunterian Museum kept +complete. From time to time something very rare comes to hand, and then +there is quite an excitement in the place. It is turned about, examined, +and discussed, with as much zest as a lady would display when first +opening a present of jewels, or first criticising a new ball-dress. If +the new acquisition be an animal but recently dead, a drop of its blood +is sought and placed under the microscope to see the diameter of its +globules; if it has a coat of fur, perhaps one of the hairs are next +submitted to the same test; and then a fine section of its bone passes a +similar ordeal. Its brain is investigated, weighed, and placed in spirit +for preservation. Its general characteristics are then gone over, and a +description of them written down. If worthy of a place in the Museum, +this description goes to make a paragraph in the catalogues of the +Collection—fine quarto volumes, of which there are many now complete, +containing more exact anatomical and physiological descriptions of +objects, than perhaps any other work extant. + +The last contribution to the series of Catalogues was made in the room +we have been examining. Its production was the constant labour of two +years; and the volume contains exact particulars of many facts never +before noticed. Amongst other things, for instance, made out with +certainty in this place by Mr. Quekett, after months of patient +investigation, was the elementary differences in the character of bone. +To the common eye and common idea, all bone is simply bone; and for +common purposes the word indicates closely enough what the speaker would +describe. Not so to the naturalist and the physiologist; and so scalpel +and microscope went to work: the sea, the land, and the air, lent each +their creatures peculiar to itself, and the labour of the search was at +length rewarded by a discovery that each great class of living things +has an elementary difference in the bones upon which its structure is +built up. Hence, when a particle of bony matter is now placed under the +microscope, come whence it may—from a geological strata, or from the +depths of the sea, or from within the cere-cloth of a mummy—the +observer, guided by Mr. Quekett’s observations, knows whether it +belonged in life to bird, beast, or fish. + +Glancing round this anatomical workshop, we find, amongst other things, +some preparations showing the nature of pearls. Examine them, and we +find that there are dark and dingy pearls, just as there are handsome +and ugly men; the dark pearl being found on the dark shell of the fish, +the white brilliant one upon the smooth inside shell. Going further in +the search, we find that the smooth glittering lining upon which the +fish moves, is known as the _nacre_, and that it is produced by a +portion of the animal called _the mantle_: and for explanation sake we +may add, that gourmands practically know the mantle as _the beard_ of +the oyster. When living in its glossy house, should any foreign +substance find its way through the shell to disturb the smoothness so +essential to its ease, the fish coats the offending substance with +nacre, and a pearl is thus formed. The pearl is, in fact, a little globe +of the smooth glossy substance yielded by the oyster’s beard; yielded +ordinarily to smooth the narrow home to which his nature binds him, but +yielded in round drops—real pearly tears—if he is hurt. When a beauty +glides proudly among a throng of admirers, her hair clustering with +pearls, she little thinks that her ornaments are products of pain and +diseased action, endured by the most unpoetical of shell-fish. + +Leaving the centre-room of the three in the College roof, let us just +glance at the other two apartments. Upon entering one we see the walls +lined with boxes, something like those in a milliner’s shop, but, +instead of holding laces and ribands, we find them labelled “Wolf,” +“Racoon,” “Penguin,” “Lion,” “Albatross,” and so on with names of birds, +and beasts, and fishes. On lifting a lid, we find the boxes filled with +the bones of the different creatures named; not a complete skeleton of +any one, perhaps, but portions of half-a-dozen. In this room, the two +students attached to the College carry on dissections, under the +directions of the superior authorities. What they do is entered in a +book kept posted up, and this affords another source for reference as to +anatomical facts. When they have laboured here for three years, they +have the option of a commission as Assistant Surgeon in the Army, Navy, +or East India Company’s service, as a reward for their College work. + +If the atmosphere of the two apartments we have investigated was bad, +that of the third room was infinitely worse, though windows and +ventilators are constantly open. In this place large preparations are +kept, and all the specimens are here put into the bottles required for +exhibition in the Museum. This third room, like the first, has a +curiously characteristic look. It would make a fine original for a +picture of an alchemist’s study. On one side is a large structure of +brickwork with pipes and taps, conveying the idea of a furnace and +still, or of an oven. Alongside it is a bath and a table, and the +purpose of the whole is for _injecting_ large animals. This is a very +difficult operation, the object being to drive a kind of hot liquid +sealing-wax into every artery of the body, even the most minute. All +things brought here, and capable of it, are injected somewhat after this +fashion before they pass under the scalpel. Besides this oven-looking +structure there are pans, and tubs, and casks; one containing a small +dromedary, another being “a cask of camel.” A painter’s easel stands +there ready for use, and on the floor are some bones of a megatherium; +the tables are covered with bottles and jars, and the walls are +similarly decorated. Strings of bladders hang about, and under foot we +see thin sheets of lead coated with tin-foil; these latter being used +for tying down the preparation bottles so that they may for years remain +air-tight; a tedious and somewhat difficult operation. In this place +every year they use scores, sometimes hundreds of gallons of alcohol; +one fact which helps to show that museums on a large scale are expensive +establishments. + +Here, as elsewhere, however, in our establishments, whatever may be +expended on materials, the men who do the work of science are but +indifferently paid. But lucre is not their sole reward. No mere money +payment could compensate (for instance) a man for spending a lifetime in +this College of Surgeons’ roof. Forget the object in view; ignore the +charm that science has for its votaries; and this place becomes a +literal inferno, filled with pestilential fumes, and surrounded by +horrible sights. But they who fix the salaries know how much the pursuit +of science is a labour of love; and so they pay the man of science +badly, not here alone, but in all the scientific branches of the public +service. But the science-worker though he may feel the injustice, yet +moves on his way rejoicing, pleased with his unceasing search into the +secret workings of nature, and exhilarated from time to time by some +discovery, or by the confirmation of some cherished notion. And though +the glittering prizes of life be bestowed on strivers in far different +walks, the student of nature holds on his cheerful and philosophic way, +rewarded by the glimpses he gets of the power that made and sustains all +terrestrial things, and rewarded, moreover, by the holy contact with +that infinite wisdom seen at work in the construction, the adaptation, +and the continuance of the marvellous and illimitably varied works it is +the business of his life to investigate. + + + + + CHIPS. + + + NICE WHITE VEAL. + +We shudder at the cruelties practised upon Strasbourg geese to produce +the celebrated _pâtés de foie ǧras_; but remorse would assuredly afflict +the amateurs of veal with indigestion, if they reflected on the tortures +to which calves are subjected to cause the very unnatural colour of the +meat which they so much prize. The natural and wholesome tint of veal is +not white, but pink. An ancient French traveller in England (1690) says +that the English veal has not the “beautiful red colour of the French.” +Dr. Smollett, in “Peregrine Pickle,” upbraids epicures, on the scores +both of cruelty and unwholesomeness, saying that our best veal is like a +“fricassee of kid gloves,” and the sauce of “melted butter” is rendered +necessary only by the absence of the juices drained out of the +unfortunate animal before death. + +The process of killing a calf is a refinement of cruelty worthy of a +Grand Inquisitor. The beast is, while alive, bled several times; in +summer, during several hours of the night, and frequently till it +faints; when a plug is put into the orifice till “next time.” But the +lengthened punishment of the most unoffending of animals is at the +actual “killing.” It is tied together, neck and heels, much as a dead +animal when packed in a basket and slung up by a rope, with the head +downwards. A vein is then opened, till it lingeringly bleeds to death. +Two or three “knocks” are given to it with the pole-axe whilst it hangs +loose in the air, and the flesh is beaten with sticks, technically +termed “dressing” it, some time before feeling has ceased to exist. All +this may be verified by those who insist on seeing the penetralia of the +slaughter-houses; or the poor animal may be seen moaning and writhing—by +a mere glance—on many days of the week, in Warwick Lane, Newgate Street. + +This mode of bleaching veal is not only a crime, but a blunder. The +flesh would be more palatable and nutritious killed speedily and +mercifully. But were it otherwise, and had it been twenty times more a +luxury, who, professing to honour the common Creator, would, for the +sensual gratification of the palate, cause the calf to be thus tortured? + + + + + “ALL THINGS IN THE WORLD MUST CHANGE.” + + + Would’st thou have it always Spring, + Though she cometh flower-laden? + Though sweet-throated birds do sing? + Thou would’st weary of it, Maiden. + Dost thou never feel desire + That thy womanhood were nearer? + Doth thy loving heart ne’er tire, + Longing yet for something dearer? + + Would’st have Summer ever stay— + Droughty Summer—bright and burning? + Dost thou not, oft in the day, + Long for still, cool, night’s returning? + Dost thou not grow weary, Youth, + Of thy pleasures, vain though pleasant— + Thinking Life has more of Truth + Than the satiating present? + + Would’st have Autumn never go? + (Autumn, Winter’s wealthy neighbour), + Stacks would rise, and wine-press flow + Vainly, did’st thou always labour. + When thy child is on thy knee + And thy heart with love’s o’erflowing, + Dost thou never long to see + What is in the future’s showing? + + When old Winter, cold and hoar, + Cometh, blowing his ten fingers, + Hanging ice-drops on the door + Whilst he at the threshold lingers, + Would’st thou ever vigil keep + With a mate so full of sorrow? + Better to thy bed and sleep, + Nor wake till th’ Eternal morrow! + + + + + THE LAST OF A LONG LINE. + + + IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER II. + +In Great Stockington there lived a race of paupers. From the year of the +42nd of Elizabeth, or 1601, down to the present generation, this race +maintained an uninterrupted descent. They were a steady and unbroken +line of paupers, as the parish books testify. From generation to +generation their demands on the parish funds stand recorded. There were +no _lacunæ_ in their career; there never failed an heir to these +families; fed on the bread of idleness and legal provision, these people +flourished, increased, and multiplied. Sometimes compelled to work for +the weekly dole which they received, they never acquired a taste for +labour, or lost the taste for the bread for which they did not labour. +These paupers regarded this maintenance by no means as a disgrace. They +claimed it as a right,—as their patrimony. They contended that one-third +of the property of the Church had been given by benevolent individuals +for the support of the poor, and that what the Reformation wrongfully +deprived them of, the great enactment of Elizabeth rightfully—and only +rightfully—restored. + +Those who imagine that all paupers merely claimed parish relief because +the law ordained it, commit a great error. There were numbers who were +hereditary paupers, and that on a tradition carefully handed down, that +they were only manfully claiming their own. They traced their claims +from the most ancient feudal times, when the lord was as much bound to +maintain his villein in gross, as the villein was to work for the lord. +These paupers were, in fact, or claimed to be, the original _adscripti +glebæ_, and to have as much a claim to parish support as the landed +proprietor had to his land. For this reason, in the old Catholic times, +after they had escaped from villenage by running away and remaining +absent from their hundred for a year and a day, dwelling for that period +in a walled town, these people were amongst the most diligent attendants +at the Abbey doors, and when the Abbeys were dissolved, were, no doubt, +amongst the most daring of these thieves, vagabonds, and sturdy rogues, +who, after the Robin Hood fashion, beset the highways and solitary farms +of England, and claimed their black mail in a very unceremonious style. +It was out of this class that Henry VIII. hanged his seventy-two +thousand during his reign, and, as it is said, without appearing +materially to diminish their number. + +That they continued to “increase, multiply, and replenish the earth,” +overflowing all bounds, overpowering by mere populousness all the severe +laws against them of whipping, burning in the hand, in the forehead or +the breast, and hanging, and filling the whole country with alarm, is +evident by the very act itself of Elizabeth. + +Amongst these hereditary paupers who, as we have said, were found in +Stockington, there was a family of the name of Deg. This family had +never failed to demand and enjoy what it held to be its share of its +ancient inheritance. It appeared from the parish records, that they had +practised in different periods the crafts of shoemaking, tailoring, and +chimney-sweeping; but since the invention of the stocking-frame, they +had, one and all of them, followed the profession of stocking weavers, +or as they were there called, stockingers. This was a trade which +required no extreme exertion of the physical or intellectual powers. To +sit in a frame, and throw the arms to and fro, was a thing that might +either be carried to a degree of extreme diligence, or be let down into +a mere apology for idleness. An “idle stockinger” was there no very +uncommon phrase, and the Degs were always classed under that head. +Nothing could be more admirably adapted than this trade for building a +plan of parish relief upon. The Degs did not pretend to be absolutely +without work, or the parish authorities would soon have set them to some +real labour,—a thing that they particularly recoiled from, having a very +old adage in the family, that “hard work was enough to kill a man.” The +Degs were seldom, therefore, out of work, but they did not get enough to +meet and tie. They had but little work if times were bad, and if they +were good, they had large families, and sickly wives or children. Be +times what they would, therefore, the Degs were due and successful +attendants at the parish pay-table. Nay, so much was this a matter of +course, that they came at length not even to trouble themselves to +receive their pay, but sent their young children for it; and it was duly +paid. Did any parish officer, indeed, turn restive, and decline to pay a +Deg, he soon found himself summoned before a magistrate, and such pleas +of sickness, want of work, and poor earnings brought up, that he most +likely got a sharp rebuke from the benevolent but uninquiring +magistrate, and acquired a character for hardheartedness that stuck to +him. + +So parish overseers learnt to let the Degs alone; and their children +regularly brought up to receive the parish money for their parents, were +impatient as they grew up to receive it for themselves. Marriages in the +Deg family were consequently very early, and there were plenty of +instances of married Degs claiming parish relief under the age of +twenty, on the plea of being the parent of two children. One such +precocious individual being asked by a rather verdant officer why he had +married before he was able to maintain a family, replied, in much +astonishment, that he had married in order to maintain himself by parish +assistance. That he never had been able to maintain himself by his +labour, nor ever expected to do it; his only hope, therefore, lay in +marrying, and becoming the father of two children, to which patriarchal +rank he had now attained, and demanded his “pay.” + +Thus had lived and nourished the Degs on their ancient patrimony, the +parish, for upwards of two hundred years. Nay, we have no doubt whatever +that, if it could have been traced, they had enjoyed an ancestry of +paupers as long as the pedigree of Sir Roger Rockville himself. In the +days of the most perfect villenage, they had, doubtless, eaten the bread +of idleness, and claimed it as a right. They were numerous, improvident, +ragged in dress, and fond of an alehouse and of gossip. Like the blood +of Sir Roger, their blood had become peculiar through a long persistence +of the same circumstances. It was become pure pauper blood. The Degs +married, if not entirely among Degs, yet amongst the same class. None +but a pauper would dream of marrying a Deg. The Degs, therefore, were in +constitution, in mind, in habit, and in inclination, paupers. But a pure +and unmixed class of this kind does not die out like an aristocratic +stereotype. It increases and multiplies. The lower the grade, the more +prolific, as is sometimes seen on a large and even national scale. The +Degs threatened, therefore, to become a most formidable clan in the +lower purlieus of Stockington, but luckily there is so much virtue even +in evils, that one, not rarely cures another. War, the great evil, +cleared the town of Degs. + +Fond of idleness, of indulgence, of money easily got, and as easily +spent, the Degs were rapidly drained off by recruiting parties during +the last war. The young men enlisted, and were marched away; the young +women married soldiers that were quartered in the town from time to +time, and marched away with them. There were, eventually, none of the +once numerous Degs left except a few old people, whom death was sure to +draft off at no distant period with his regiment of the line which has +no end. Parish overseers, magistrates, and master manufacturers, +felicitated themselves at this unhoped-for deliverance from the ancient +family of the Degs. + +But one cold, clear, winter evening, the east wind piping its sharp +sibilant ditty in the bare shorn hedges, and poking his sharp fingers +into the sides of well broad-clothed men by way of passing jest, Mr. +Spires, a great manufacturer of Stockington, driving in his gig some +seven miles from the town, passed a poor woman with a stout child on her +back. The large ruddy-looking man in the prime of life, and in the great +coat and thick worsted gloves of a wealthy traveller, cast a glance at +the wretched creature trudging heavily on, expecting a pitiful appeal to +his sensibilities, and thinking it a bore to have to pull off a glove +and dive into his pocket for a copper; but to his surprise there was no +demand, only a low curtsey, and the glimpse of a face of singular +honesty of expression, and of excessive weariness. + +Spires was a man of warm feelings; he looked earnestly at the woman, and +thought he had never seen such a picture of fatigue in his life. He +pulled up and said, + +“You seem very tired, my good woman.” + +“Awfully tired, Sir.” + +“And are you going far to night?” + +“To Great Stockington, Sir, if God give me strength.” + +“To Stockington!” exclaimed Mr. Spires. “Why you seem ready to drop. +You’ll never reach it. You’d better stop at the next village.” + +“Ay, Sir, it’s easy stopping, for those that have money.” + +“And you’ve none, eh?” + +“As God lives, Sir, I’ve a sixpence, and that’s all.” + +Mr. Spires put his hand in his pocket, and held out to her the next +instant, half-a-crown. + +“There stop, poor thing—make yourself comfortable—it’s quite out of the +question to reach Stockington. But stay—are your friends living in +Stockington—what are you?” + +“A poor soldier’s widow, Sir. And may God Almighty bless you!” said the +poor woman, taking the money, the tears standing in her large brown eyes +as she curtsied very low. + +“A soldier’s widow,” said Mr. Spires. She had touched the softest place +in the manufacturer’s heart, for he was a very loyal man, and vehement +champion of his country’s honour in the war. “So young,” said he, “how +did you lose your husband?” + +“He fell, Sir,” said the poor woman; but she could get no further; she +suddenly caught up the corner of her grey cloak, covered her face with +it, and burst into an excess of grief. + +The manufacturer felt as if he had hit the woman a blow by his careless +question; he sate watching her for a moment in silence, and then said, +“Come, get into the gig, my poor woman; come, I must see you to +Stockington.” + +The poor woman dried her tears, and heavily climbed into the gig, +expressing her gratitude in a very touching and modest manner. Spires +buttoned the apron over her, and taking a look at the child, said in a +cheerful tone to comfort her, “Bless me, but that is a fine thumping +fellow, though. I don’t wonder you are tired, carrying such a load.” + +The poor woman pressed the stout child, apparently two years old, to her +breast, as if she felt it a great blessing and no load: the gig drove +rapidly on. + +Presently Mr. Spires resumed his conversation. + +“So you are from Stockington?” + +“No Sir, my husband was.” + +“So: what was his name?” + +“John Deg, Sir.” + +“Deg?” said Mr. Spires. “Deg, did you say?” + +“Yes, Sir.” + +The manufacturer seemed to hitch himself off towards his own side of the +gig, gave another look at her, and was silent. The poor woman was +somewhat astonished at his look and movement, and was silent too. + +After awhile Mr. Spires said again, “And do you hope to find friends in +Stockington? Had you none where you came from?” + +“None Sir, none in the world!” said the poor woman, and again her +feelings seemed too strong for her. At length she added, “I was in +service, Sir, at Poole, in Dorsetshire, when I married; my mother only +was living, and while I was away with my husband, she died. When—when +the news came from abroad—that—when I was a widow, Sir, I went back to +my native place, and the parish officers said I must go to my husband’s +parish lest I and my child should become troublesome.” + +“You asked relief of them?” + +“Never; Oh, God knows, no, never! My family have never asked a penny of +a parish. They would die first, and so would I, Sir; but they said I +might do it, and I had better go to my husband’s parish at once—and they +offered me money to go.” + +“And you took it, of course?” + +“No, sir; I had a little money, which I had earned by washing and +laundering, and I sold most of my things, as I could not carry them, and +came off. I felt hurt, Sir; my heart rose against the treatment of the +parish, and I thought I should be better amongst my husband’s +friends—and my child would, if anything happened to me; I had no friends +of my own.” + +Mr. Spires looked at the woman in silence. “Did your husband tell you +anything of his friends? What sort of a man was he?” + +“Oh, he was a gay young fellow, rather, Sir; but not bad to me. He +always said his friends were well off in Stockington.” + +“He did!” said the manufacturer, with a great stare, and as if bolting +the words from his heart in a large gust of wonder. + +The poor woman again looked at him with a strange look. The manufacturer +whistled to himself, and giving his horse a smart cut with the whip, +drove on faster than ever. The night was fast settling down; it was +numbing cold; a grey fog rose from the river as they thundered over the +old bridge; and tall engine chimneys, and black smoky houses loomed +through the dusk before them. They were at Stockington. + +As they slackened their pace up a hill at the entrance of the town, Mr. +Spires again opened his mouth. + +“I should be sorry to hurt your feelings, Mrs. Deg,” he said, “but I +have my fears that you are coming to this place with false expectations. +I fear your husband did not give you the truest possible account of his +family here.” + +“Oh, Sir! What—what is it?” exclaimed the poor woman; “in God’s name, +tell me!” + +“Why, nothing more than this,” said the manufacturer, “that there are +very few of the Degs left here. They are old, and on the parish, and can +do nothing for you.” + +The poor woman gave a deep sigh, and was silent. + +“But don’t be cast down,” said Mr. Spires. He would not tell her what a +pauper family it really was, for he saw that she was a very feeling +woman, and he thought she would learn that soon enough. He felt that her +husband had from vanity given her a false account of his connections; +and he was really sorry for her. + +“Don’t be cast down,” he went on, “you can wash and iron, you say; you +are young and strong: those are your friends. Depend on them, and +they’ll be better friends to you than any other.” + +The poor woman was silent, leaning her head down on her slumbering +child, and crying to herself; and thus they drove on, through many long +and narrow streets, with gas flaring from the shops, but with few people +in the streets, and these hurrying shivering along the pavement, so +intense was the cold. Anon they stopped at a large pair of gates; the +manufacturer rung a bell, which he could reach from his gig, and the +gates presently were flung open, and they drove into a spacious yard, +with a large handsome house, having a bright lamp burning before it, on +one side of the yard, and tall warehouses on the other. + +“Show this poor woman and her child to Mrs. Craddock’s, James,” said Mr. +Spires, “and tell Mrs. Craddock to make them very comfortable; and if +you will come to my warehouse to-morrow,” added he, addressing the poor +woman, “perhaps I can be of some use to you.” + +The poor woman poured out her heartfelt thanks, and, following the old +man servant, soon disappeared, hobbling over the pebbly pavement with +her living load, stiffened almost to stone by her fatigue and her cold +ride. + +We must not pursue too minutely our narrative. Mrs. Deg was engaged to +do the washing and getting up of Mr. Spire’s linen, and the manner in +which she executed her task insured her recommendations to all their +friends. Mrs. Deg was at once in full employ. She occupied a neat house +in a yard near the meadows below the town, and in those meadows she +might be seen spreading out her clothes to whiten on the grass, attended +by her stout little boy. In the same yard lived a shoemaker, who had two +or three children of about the same age as Mrs. Deg’s child. The +children, as time went on, became playfellows. Little Simon might be +said to have the free run of the shoemaker’s house, and he was the more +attracted thither by the shoemaker’s birds, and by his flute, on which +he often played after his work was done. + +Mrs. Deg took a great friendship for this shoemaker: and he and his +wife, a quiet, kindhearted woman, were almost all the acquaintances that +she cultivated. She had found out her husband’s parents, but they were +not of a description that at all pleased her. They were old and infirm, +but they were of the true pauper breed, a sort of person, whom Mrs. Deg +had been taught to avoid and to despise. They looked on her as a sort of +second parish, and insisted that she should come and live with them, and +help to maintain them out of her earnings. But Mrs. Deg would rather her +little boy had died than have been familiarised with the spirit and +habits of those old people. Despise them she struggled hard not to do, +and she agreed to allow them sufficient to maintain them on condition +that they desisted from any further application to the parish. It would +be a long and disgusting story to recount all the troubles, annoyance, +and querulous complaints, and even bitter accusations that she received +from these connections, whom she could never satisfy; but she considered +it one of her crosses in her life, and patiently bore it, seeing that +they suffered no real want, so long as they lived, which was for years; +but she would never allow her little Simon to be with them alone. + +The shoemaker neighbour was a stout protection to her against the greedy +demands of these old people, and of others of the old Degs, and also +against another class of inconvenient visitors, namely, suitors, who saw +in Mrs. Deg a neat and comely young woman with a flourishing business, +and a neat and soon well-furnished house, a very desirable acquisition. +But Mrs. Deg had resolved never again to marry, but to live for her boy, +and she kept her resolve in firmness and gentleness. + +The shoemaker often took walks in the extensive town meadows to gather +groundsell and plantain for his canaries and gorse-linnets, and little +Simon Deg delighted to accompany him with his own children. There +William Watson, the shoemaker, used to point out to the children the +beauty of the flowers, the insects, and other objects of nature; and +while he sate on a stile and read in a little old book of poetry, as he +often used to do, the children sate on the summer grass, and enjoyed +themselves in a variety of plays. + +The effect of these walks, and the shoemaker’s conversation on little +Simon Deg was such as never wore out of him through his whole life, and +soon led him to astonish the shoemaker by his extraordinary conduct. He +manifested the utmost uneasiness at their treading on the flowers in the +grass; he would burst with tears if they persisted in it; and when asked +why, he said they were so beautiful, and that they must enjoy the +sunshine, and be very unhappy to die. The shoemaker was amazed, but +indulged the lad’s fancy. One day he thought to give him a great treat, +and when they were out in the meadows, he drew from under his coat a bow +and arrow, and shot the arrow high up in the air. He expected to see him +in an ecstacy of delight: his own children clapped their hands in +transport, but Simon stood silent, and as if awestruck. “Shall I send up +another?” asked the shoemaker. + +“No, no,” exclaimed the child, imploringly. “You say God lives up there, +and he mayn’t like it.” + +The shoemaker laughed, but presently he said, as if to himself, “There +is too much imagination there. There will be a poet, if we don’t take +care.” + +The shoemaker offered to teach Simon to read, and to solidify his mind, +as he termed it, by arithmetic, and then to teach him to work at his +trade. His mother was very glad; and thought shoemaking would be a good +trade for the boy; and that with Mr. Watson she should have him always +near her. He was growing now a great lad, and was especially strong, and +of a frank and daring habit. He was especially indignant at any act of +oppression of the weak by the strong, and not seldom got into trouble by +his championship of the injured in such cases amongst the boys of the +neighbourhood. + +He was now about twelve years of age; when, going one day with a basket +of clothes on his head to Mr. Spires’s for his mother, he was noticed by +Mr. Spires himself from his counting-house window. The great war was +raging; there was much distress amongst the manufacturers; and the +people were suffering and exasperated against their masters. Mr. Spires, +as a staunch tory, and supporter of the war, was particularly obnoxious +to the workpeople, who uttered violent threats against him. For this +reason his premises were strictly guarded, and at the entrance of his +yard, just within the gates, was chained a huge and fierce mastiff, his +chain allowing him to approach near enough to intimidate any stranger, +though not to reach him. The dog knew the people who came regularly +about, and seemed not to notice them, but on the entrance of a stranger, +he rose up, barked fiercely, and came to the length of his chain. This +always drew the attention of the porter, if he were away from his box, +and few persons dared to pass till he came. + +Simon Deg was advancing with the basket of clean linen on his head, when +the dog rushed out, and barking loudly, came exactly opposite to him, +within a few feet. The boy, a good deal startled at first, reared +himself with his back against the wall, but at a glance perceiving that +the dog was at the length of his tether, he seemed to enjoy his +situation, and stood smiling at the furious animal, and lifting his +basket with both hands above his head, nodded to him, as if to say, +“Well, old boy, you’d like to eat me, wouldn’t you?” + +Mr. Spires, who sate near his counting-house window at his books, was +struck with the bold and handsome bearing of the boy, and said to a +clerk, “What boy is that?” + +“It is Jenny Deg’s,” was the answer. + +“Ha! that boy! Zounds! how boys do grow! Why that’s the child that Jenny +Deg was carrying when she came to Stockington: and what a strong, +handsome, bright-looking fellow he is now!” + +As the boy was returning, Mr. Spires called him to the counting-house +door, and put some questions to him as to what he was doing and +learning, and so on. Simon, taking off his cap with much respect, +answered in such a clear and modest way, and with a voice that had so +much feeling and natural music in it, that the worthy manufacturer was +greatly taken with him. + +“That’s no Deg,” said he, when he again entered the counting-house, “not +a bit of it. He’s all Goodrick, or whatever his mother’s name was, every +inch of him.” + +The consequence of that interview was, that Simon Deg was very soon +after perched on a stool in Mr. Spires’ counting-house, where he +continued till he was twenty-two. Mr. Spires had no son, only a single +daughter; and such were Simon Deg’s talents, attention to business, and +genial disposition, that at that age Mr. Spires gave him a share in the +concern. He was himself now getting less fond of exertion than he had +been, and placed the most implicit reliance on Simon’s judgment and +general management. Yet no two men could be more unlike in their +opinions beyond the circle of trade. Mr. Spires was a staunch tory of +the staunch old school. He was for Church and King, and for things +remaining for ever as they had been. Simon, on the other hand, had +liberal and reforming notions. He was for the improvement of the people, +and their admission to many privileges. Mr. Spires was, therefore, liked +by the leading men of the place, and disliked by the people. Simon’s +estimation was precisely in the opposite direction. But this did not +disturb their friendship; it required another disturbing cause—and that +came. + +Simon Deg and the daughter of Mr. Spires, grew attached to each other; +and, as the father had thought Simon worthy of becoming a partner in the +business, neither of the young people deemed that he would object to a +partnership of a more domestic description. But here they made a +tremendous mistake. No sooner was such a proposal hinted at, than Mr. +Spires burst forth with the fury of all the winds from the bag of +Ulysses. + +“What! a Deg aspire to the hand of the sole heiress of the enormously +opulent Spires?” + +The very thought almost cut the proud manufacturer off with an apoplexy. +The ghosts of a thousand paupers rose up before him, and he was black in +the face. It was only by a prompt and bold application of leeches and +lancet, that the life of the great man was saved. But there was an end +of all further friendship between himself and the expectant Simon. He +insisted that he should withdraw from the concern, and it was done. +Simon, who felt his own dignity deeply wounded too, for dignity he had, +though the last of a long line of paupers—his own dignity, not his +ancestors’—took silently, yet not unrespectfully, his share—a good, +round sum, and entered another house of business. + +For several years there appeared to be a feud and a bitterness between +the former friends; yet it showed itself in no other manner than by a +careful avoidance of each other. The continental war came to an end; the +manufacturing distress increased exceedingly. There came troublous +times, and a fierce warfare of politics. Great Stockington was torn +asunder by rival parties. On one side stood pre-eminent, Mr. Spires; on +the other towered conspicuously, Simon Deg. Simon was grown rich, and +extremely popular. He was on all occasions the advocate of the people. +He said that he had sprung from, and was one of them. He had bought a +large tract of land on one side of the town; and intensely fond of the +country and flowers himself, he had divided this into gardens, built +little summer-houses in them, and let them to the artisans. In his +factory he had introduced order, cleanliness, and ventilation. He had +set up a school for the children in the evenings, with a reading-room +and conversation-room for the workpeople, and encouraged them to bring +their families there, and enjoy music, books, and lectures. Accordingly, +he was the idol of the people, and the horror of the old school of the +manufacturers. + +“A pretty upstart and demagogue I’ve nurtured,” said Mr. Spires often, +to his wife and daughter, who only sighed, and were silent. + +Then came a furious election. The town, for a fortnight, more resembled +the worst corner of Tartarus than a Christian borough. Drunkenness, +riot, pumping on one another, spencering one another, all sorts of +violence and abuse ruled and raged till the blood of all Stockington was +at boiling heat. In the midst of the tempest were everywhere seen, +ranged on the opposite sides, Mr. Spires, now old and immensely +corpulent, and Simon Deg, active, buoyant, zealous, and popular beyond +measure. But popular though he still was, tho other and old tory side +triumphed. The people were exasperated to madness; and, when the +chairing of the successful candidate commenced, there was a terrific +attack made on the procession by the defeated party. Down went the +chair, and the new member, glad to escape into an inn, saw his friends +mercilessly assailed by the populace. There was a tremendous tempest of +sticks, brickbats, paving-stones, and rotten eggs. In the midst of this, +Simon Deg, and a number of his friends, standing at the upper window of +an hotel, saw Mr. Spires knocked down, and trampled on by the crowd. In +an instant, and, before his friends had missed him from amongst them, +Simon Deg was seen darting through the raging mass, cleaving his way +with a surprising vigour, and gesticulating, and no doubt shouting +vehemently to the rioters, though his voice was lost in the din. In the +next moment, his hat was knocked off, and himself appeared in imminent +danger: but, another moment, and there was a pause, and a group of +people were bearing somebody from the frantic mob into a neighbouring +shop. It was Simon Deg, assisting in the rescue of his old friend and +benefactor, Mr. Spires. + +Mr. Spires was a good deal bruised, and wonderfully confounded and +bewildered by his fall. His clothes were one mass of mud, and his face +was bleeding copiously; but when he had had a good draught of water, and +his face washed, and had time to recover himself, it was found that he +had received no serious injury. + +“They had like to have done for me though,” said he. + +“Yes, and who saved you?” asked a gentleman. + +“Ay, who was it? who was it?” asked the really warm-hearted +manufacturer; “let me know? I owe him my life.” + +“There he is!” said several gentlemen, at the same instant, pushing +forward Simon Deg. + +“What, Simon!” said Mr. Spires, starting to his feet. “Was it thee, my +boy?” He did more, he stretched out his hand: the young man clasped it +eagerly, and the two stood silent, and, with a heartfelt emotion, which +blended all the past into forgetfulness, and the future into a union +more sacred than esteem. + +A week hence, and Simon Deg was the son-in-law of Mr. Spires. Though Mr. +Spires had misunderstood Simon, and Simon had borne the aspect of +opposition to his old friend, in defence of conscientious principle, the +wife and daughter of the manufacturer had always understood him, and +secretly looked forward to some day of recognition and re-union. + +Simon Deg was now the richest man in Stockington. His mother was still +living to enjoy his elevation. She had been his excellent and wise +housekeeper, and she continued to occupy that post still. + +Twenty-five years afterwards, when the worthy old Spires was dead, and +Simon Deg had himself two sons attained to manhood; when he had five +times been Mayor of Stockington, and had been knighted on the +presentation of a loyal address; still his mother was living to see it; +and William Watson, the shoemaker, was acting as the sort of orderly at +Sir Simon’s chief manufactory. He occupied the Lodge, and walked about, +and saw that all was safe, and moving on as it should do. + +It was amazing how the most plebeian name of Simon Deg had slid, under +the hands of the Heralds, into the really aristocratical one of Sir +Simon Degge. They had traced him up a collateral kinship, spite of his +own consciousness, to a baronet of the same name of the county of +Stafford, and had given him a coat of arms that was really astonishing. + +It was some years before this, that Sir Roger Rockville had breathed his +last. His title and estate had fallen into litigation. Owing to two +generations having passed without any issue of the Rockville family +except the one son and heir, the claims, though numerous, were so +mingled with obscuring circumstances, and so equally balanced, that the +lawyers raised quibbles and difficulties enough to keep the property in +Chancery, till they had not only consumed all the ready money and +rental, but had made frightful inroads into the estate itself. To save +the remnant, the contending parties came to a compromise. A neighbouring +squire, whose grandfather had married a Rockville, was allowed to secure +the title, on condition that the rest carried off the residuum of the +estate. The woods and lands of Rockville were announced for sale! + +It was at this juncture that old William Watson reminded Sir Simon Degge +of a conversation in the great grove of Rockville, which they had held +at the time that Sir Roger was endeavouring to drive the people thence. +“What a divine pleasure might this man enjoy,” said Simon Deg to his +humble friend, “if he had a heart capable of letting others enjoy +themselves.” + +“But we talk without the estate,” said William Watson, “what might we do +if we were tried with it?” + +Sir Simon was silent for a moment; then observed that there was sound +philosophy in William Watson’s remark. He said no more, but went away; +and the next day announced to the astonished old man that he had +purchased the groves and the whole ancient estate of Rockville! + +Sir Simon Degge, the last of a long line of paupers, was become the +possessor of the noble estate of Sir Roger Rockville of Rockville, the +last of a long line of aristocrats! + +The following summer when the hay was lying in fragrant cocks in the +great meadows of Rockville, and on the little islands in the river, Sir +Simon Degge, Baronet, of Rockville,—for such was now his title—through +the suggestion of a great lawyer, formerly Recorder of the Borough of +Stockington, to the crown—held a grand fête on the occasion of his +coming to reside at Rockville Hall, henceforth the family seat of the +Degges. His house and gardens had all been restored to the most +consummate order. For years Sir Simon had been a great purchaser of +works of art and literature, paintings, statuary, books, and articles of +antiquity, including rich armour and precious works in ivory and gold. + +First and foremost he gave a great banquet to his wealthy friends, and +no man with a million and a half is without them—and in abundance. In +the second place, he gave a substantial dinner to all his tenantry, from +the wealthy farmer of five hundred acres to the tenant of a cottage. On +this occasion he said, “Game is a subject of great heart-burning and of +great injustice to the country. It was the bane of my predecessor: let +us take care it is not ours. Let every man kill the game on the land +that he rents—then he will not destroy it utterly, nor allow it to grow +into a nuisance. I am fond of a gun myself, but I trust to find enough +for my propensity to the chace in my own fields and woods—if I +occasionally extend my pursuit across the lands of my tenants, it shall +not be to carry off the first-fruits of their feeding, and I shall still +hold the enjoyment as a favour.” + +We need not say that this speech was applauded most vociferously. +Thirdly, and lastly, he gave a grand entertainment to all his +workpeople, both of the town and the country. His house and gardens were +thrown open to the inspection of the whole assembled company. The +delighted crowd admired immensely the pictures and the pleasant gardens. +On the lawn, lying between the great grove and the hall, an enormous +tent was pitched, or rather a vast canvas canopy erected, open on all +sides, in which was laid a charming banquet; a military band from +Stockington barracks playing during the time. Here Sir Simon made a +speech as rapturously received as that to the farmers. It was to the +effect, that all the old privileges of wandering in the grove, and +angling, and boating on the river were restored. The inn was already +rebuilt in a handsome Elizabethan style, larger than before, and to +prevent it ever becoming a fane of intemperance, he had there posted as +landlord, he hoped for many years to come, his old friend and +benefactor, William Watson. William Watson should protect the inn from +riot, and they themselves the groves and river banks from injury. + +Long and loud were the applauses which this announcement occasioned. The +young people turned out upon the green for a dance, and in the evening, +after an excellent tea—the whole company descended the river to +Stockington in boats and barges decorated with boughs and flowers, and +singing a song made by William Watson for the occasion, called “The +Health of Sir Simon, last and first of his Line!” + +Years have rolled on. The groves and river banks and islands of +Rockville are still greatly frequented, but are never known to be +injured: poachers are never known there, for four reasons.—First, nobody +would like to annoy the good Sir Simon; secondly, game is not very +numerous there; thirdly, there is no fun in killing it, where there is +no resistance; and fourthly, it is vastly more abundant in other +proprietors’ demesnes, and _it is_ fun to kill it there, where it is +jealously watched, and there is a chance of a good spree with the +keepers. + +And with what different feelings does the good Sir Simon look down from +his lofty eyrie, over the princely expanse of meadows, and over the +glittering river, and over the stately woods to where Great Stockington +still stretches farther and farther its red brick walls, its red-tiled +roofs, and its tall smoke-vomiting chimneys. There he sees no haunts of +crowded enemies to himself or any man. No upstarts, nor envious +opponents, but a vast family of human beings, all toiling for the good +of their families and their country. All advancing, some faster, some +slower, to a better education, a better social condition, a better +conception of the principles of art and commerce, and a clearer +recognition of their rights and their duties, and a more cheering faith +in the upward tendency of humanity. + +Looking on this interesting scene from his distant and quiet home, Sir +Simon sees what blessings flow—and how deeply he feels them in his own +case—from a free circulation, not only of trade, but of human relations. +How this corrects the mischiefs, moral and physical, of false systems +and rusty prejudices;—and he ponders on schemes of no ordinary beauty +and beneficence yet to reach his beloved town through them. He sees +lecture halls and academies, means of sanitary purification, and +delicious recreation, in which baths, wash-houses, and airy homes figure +largely: while public walks extend all round the great industrial hive, +including wood, hills, meadow, and river in their circuit of many miles. +There he lived and laboured; there live and labour his sons: and there +he trusts his family will continue to live and labour to all future +generations: never retiring to the fatal indolence of wealth, but aiding +onwards its active and ever-expanding beneficence. + +Long may the good Sir Simon live and labour to realise these views. But +already in a green corner of the pleasant churchyard of Rockville may be +read this inscription on a marble headstone:—“Sacred to the Memory of +Jane Deg, the mother of Sir Simon Degge, Bart., of Rockville. This stone +is erected in honour of the best of Mothers by the most grateful of +sons.” + + + + + TWO LETTERS FROM AUSTRALIA. + + +Correspondents, to whom emigration is a subject of vital +importance—inasmuch as they appear to be resolved to leave kindred and +home for “pastures new”—have written to us, with a hope that we will +continue to give, as we have done hitherto, the dark as well as the +light side of the Colonial picture. Not a few of the dangers and +privations of Australian life we have already laid before them. We now +are enabled to furnish some idea of how new localities are colonised, by +such enterprising pioneers as the author of the letters from which we +take the following extracts. + +It must be remarked, that the perils he describes were self-sought, and +are by no means incidental to the career of an ordinary emigrant. His +adventures occurred beyond the limits of the colony as defined by the +British Government which, it would appear, he was in some degree +instrumental in extending. + +We give the “round unvarnished tale” precisely as we received it, and as +it was communicated by the author to a relative in Cheshire:— + +When we separated from our partner, Mr. W., it became necessary to look +for stations outside the limits of the colony, for the only station we +then possessed was much too small for our stock. R. and I first took the +stock up to the station on the Murray, and having heard that a fine +district of country had just been discovered on the Edward, we followed +it down and discovered our present runs, and, I must say, they are +equal—for grazing purposes, at least—to anything I have seen in the +colony. It was necessary that one of us should remain at our station on +the Murray, and R. very kindly gave me the option of either remaining or +going down the Edward. I preferred going and forming new stations on the +Edward, while he agreed to continue where he was, which indeed he +preferred. I therefore lost no time in removing the stock before the +winter rains should set in, and the waters rise to an unnatural height, +which the rivers down here invariably do at this period of the year, +overflowing their banks, in places, for miles. It was too late,—for just +as we started it commenced raining, and continued, without ceasing, for +a month. It was with the greatest difficulty we got down, as, from +continued exposure to wet, and what with driving the cattle by day and +watching them by night, we were, as you may suppose, so completely +fagged, as to be almost “_hors de service_.” But there is an end to +everything,—in this world at least,—and so there was to our journey. It +excited in me at the time, I well recollect, strange and indescribable +sensations, as I rode over the runs, exploring the different nooks and +crannies all so lonely and still, with not a sound to be heard, save now +and then the wild shriek of the native Companion (a large bird), or the +howl of the native dog, or the still more thrilling yell of the black +native, announcing to others the arrival of white men. + +We were now about fifty miles from any other white habitation, about six +hundred from Sydney, and two hundred from Melbourne. The country down +here is almost a dead level,—not a single hill to be seen, unless you +choose to honour with the name a few miserable mounds of sand which rise +to an elevation of some twenty or thirty feet. The plains are very +extensive; there is one which extends from our door right across to the +Murrum-bridge, a distance of sixty-five miles, with scarcely a tree on +it. + +The Murray—of which the Edward is a branch—takes its rise in the +Australian Alps, and is supplied by springs and snow from these. Some of +the highest mountains of this range retain perpetual snow on their +summits, but on the lesser ones it melts about the beginning of spring, +causing great floods in the Murray and Edward, and our runs, being +particularly low, are flooded from one to three miles on either side of +the river. It is necessary to state this, to enable you to understand +the “secrets I am about to unfold.” We had built one hut on the south +side (ycleped Barratta), but before we could get one up on the south +side (Wirrai), the floods came, and I was obliged to substitute a bark +one instead. I divided the cattle into two herds, and put a steady +stock-keeper, along with a hutkeeper, in charge of one herd on the +Wirrai station, while I, with a hutkeeper and another man (we were only +five altogether) looked after the other on this side. We were badly +supplied with arms and ammunition, and by no means prepared to fight a +strong battle should the Blacks be inclined for mischief. The natives +did not show up at the huts for two or three weeks after our arrival, +but kept reconnoitring at a distance, and we could sometimes see them +gliding stealthily among the trees not far off us. By degrees, two or +three of them came up and made friends, and then more and more, until we +had seen from forty to fifty of them, but it was remarkable that only +old men, boys, and women showed themselves, and none of the warriors. +Although I had heard that kindness was of no avail, I never could be +brought to believe it, and determined, therefore, to do all in my power +to propitiate them by trifling gifts, kind treatment, and avoiding +everything that could hurt their feelings. It was of no use; no +kindness—nothing, in fact—will teach them the law of _meum_ and _tuum_ +but the white man’s gun and his superior courage. We had been down about +three months, the waters were at their highest, and our huts on both +sides of the river were surrounded by water, through which we had to +wade every morning to look after the cattle. I was obliged to put the +huts within hearing of gunshot, on account of mutual protection, for +what, after all, are two or three men alone, without a chance of +assistance, against a body of two or three hundred black warriors, +painted and armed, as I have seen them, in all the panoply of savage +warfare. + +We had not seen a single Black for nearly six weeks, for, as I +afterwards learned, they had all gone over to a station on the Murray, +about fifty miles from us, where they succeeded in driving the whites +out after killing one man, and from three to four hundred head of +cattle, without the slightest check or resistance; and having brought +their work to a conclusion there, and emboldened by the success of their +expedition, they now turned their eyes towards us, and gathering both +numbers and courage, came pouring down on our devoted station. We had +heard nothing of these depredations then, and were therefore quite +unprepared for them. One day about twenty Blacks come up to the huts for +the purpose, I suppose, of reconnoitring the nakedness of the land, and +we killed for them a bullock, thinking thereby to propitiate them. In +this, however, I was most woefully mistaken, for before they had half +finished it, they went among the cattle on both sides of the river, and +by next morning there was not a single head left within forty miles, +with the exception of a few they had killed at either station. The +Wirrai stock-keeper went on the tracks of his herd, and I followed those +of mine, and by a week’s time we had recovered the greatest part of +both, but there were spears sticking in the sides of many of them, which +wanton piece of cruelty occasioned several deaths in a short time. Not +being strong enough to punish the Blacks, and unwilling to begin a +quarrel which might cause loss of life perhaps on both sides, and still +hoping that they would cease their depredations, I contented myself with +giving them to understand that, if they attempted in future to touch +either man or beast among us, they should be severely punished; they +said it was not them but some _Wild Blacks_, an excuse they always make +when they steal. In a fortnight afterwards, however, they acted the same +play over again; and again we had the same trouble in recovering the +cattle. They did not show after this except at a respectable distance, +when it would be with a flourish of spears, or a wave of their +tomahawks, accompanied with gesticulations of anything but a friendly +character. Still I did not believe that they would attempt our lives, +until I very nearly paid with mine the forfeit of my incredulity. I +should mention that the communication with the Wirrai station was, at +this time, carried on by means of bark canoes, which we paddled with +long poles; the distance by water was about three miles, and by land +straight across, a mile and a half. + +One day I had gone over to Wirrai in a canoe, to see how the stockman +was getting on, and on my return was humming a tune and thinking of you, +dear William (for I was humming your old favorite “Flow on, thou shining +River”), when I fancied I heard a slight noise: I stopped and listened, +but could hear nothing; I went a little further and heard it again; I +stopped again and peered about the bank, when suddenly about twenty +Blacks sprung up from behind trees, and reeds, and long grass, only one +of whom I had ever seen before; I was about fifty yards from the nearest +of them, and just at the entrance of a creek about ten yards wide, lined +on both sides with thick reeds. When they first appeared they did not +show any weapons, and spoke in a friendly strain; “Budgery Master always +gibit bullock along im Black fellow,” asked if I wanted any fish? As I +had a good double-barrel gun on my knees I did not so much care about +them, but not exactly liking their appearance I stopped at about thirty +yards. The Blacks by this time were jabbering to more down the creek, +and I could see that the one side was lined with them. Seeing that I +would not come any nearer, they suddenly picked up their spears and +altered their tone, and began calling all sorts of names, and threatened +to break my head with their “Nella nellas” (clubs). Quick as lightning +they shipped their spears, but not quicker than I levelled my gun; the +instant they saw which (they have a great respect for powder,) they +betook themselves behind trees, and, in truth, I thought it best to +follow their example; so, keeping the gun to my shoulder the while, I +began as well as I could to paddle the canoe with one hand; perceiving +my object, they stood out to thwart it, and I knowing that if they sent +their spears, though none of them should hit me, they must inevitably +shiver the canoe to pieces, determined to get on terra firma as quickly +as possible, the water being only knee deep. In stepping out I +unfortunately got into a stump-hole, and the next moment was soused over +head and ears in water! This was decidedly unpleasant, and for the first +time a thrill of fear came over me; however, I jumped up again, and +having been very particular in loading my gun, I thought it might still +go off. By this time the Blacks had gathered in great numbers on the +other side of the creek and were pressing on in a body; seeing this I +now levelled my piece, and took as deliberate an aim as I could at the +foremost of them (a huge brute, for whose capture a hundred pounds +reward had been offered by Government for a murder committed by him on +the Murrum-bridge), but the gun hung fire and the ball dropped into the +water. Finding that there was no dependence to be placed in the gun, the +only course left me was to retreat, and to attempt this I now resolved; +taking courage at this, a number of them jumped into the water, again I +faced them, and again they took to trees—are they not rank cowards? I +was beginning to think that my only chance was to take to my legs—which +indeed would have been almost certain death—when at this crisis I was, +as you may imagine, agreeably surprised by the welcome “Halloo” of the +stockman and hutkeeper, who, having heard the report of the gun and the +yells of the savages, knew that something was up, and arrived at the +nick of time to my rescue. After giving me some dry ammunition we made a +rush after them, but could not overtake the black legs which were now +plying at a particularly nimble rate, and which they especially do when +getting out of the reach of a gun. This was the first attempt they had +made on any of our lives, and their manœuvres showed that they were +under the impression that, if they could “_do for_” the master, they +might easily finish the men. But I made it a rule that never less than +two were to go out on foot or in canoes, and with never less than twenty +rounds of ball cartridge. We did not see anything of the Blacks for a +fortnight after this, during which interval, as they afterwards told us, +they were preparing for a grand attack on the Wirrai station. + +About two hours before sundown the following day the stockman went out, +as usual, to see that the cattle were safe. The Wirrai hut, I should +mention, was at this time on a kind of island about a mile and a half in +diameter, formed by the Wirrai Lagoon and a deep creek,—so that the +cattle were feeding almost within sight of the hut. All was quiet; the +cattle did not seem to betray any symptoms of fear, which they generally +will do when the Blacks are near. He had not returned more than half an +hour, when we saw the poor beasts coming rushing towards the hut—as if +for protection—as hard as they could lay legs to the ground. On going +among them, we found many with spears sticking in their bodies. We +immediately mounted horses—(I bareback, as I had left my saddle at +Barratta)—and gallopped as hard as we could in the direction the cattle +had come from for about a mile, when, not seeing anything, we stopped +and listened. There was a small, dense shrub before us, and, as we +approached it, the awful yell that greeted our ears I shall not forget +in a hurry. You can have no idea of the effect it has on one +unaccustomed to the sound, for it is like nothing earthly that I can +compare it to, but more like what one might imagine a lot of fiends +would set up while performing their jubilee over the soul of some +defunct mortal lately arrived at the “prison-house.” We gallopped +through the shrub. Before us was a space bounded by two creeks, forming +at their junction an angle on the plain beyond. Arranged in a semicircle +in this space were some two hundred warriors, painted and armed, and +drawn up in battle array. Between us and them four or five bullocks were +writhing in their death agony, while the other side of the creek, beyond +the warriors, was black with old men, women, and children looking on, +and yelling at a most fearful rate. We gallopped within gunshot, and I +then ordered the stockman to fire on them—(I had no gun myself, and had +enough to do to sit the young spirited horse I was on), but he refused, +saying that my horse would be sure to throw me, and that nothing then +could save me from certain death. By this time the Blacks were trying to +surround us, so as to hem us in between themselves and the creek, and +cut off our retreat to the hut where we had left the hutkeeper in +charge, and we soon found it necessary to put our horses into a +gallop—they following at our heels—in order to get there in time enough +to prepare for a defence. It was their intention, as they afterwards +kindly informed us, to have killed every man jack of us. We had just got +everything ready, when on they came yelling like so many fiends. We +stood out from the hut awaiting their onset. Although the odds against +us, as regarded numbers, was fearful, I was confident that if we could +only make sure of three or four of the foremost of them, it would go far +to intimidate the rest; so, as soon as they came within range of our +guns, we gave them three rounds, which, however, only wounded one of +them; still it made the others check their paces and hesitate awhile, +seeing especially that we were determined to sell our lives dearly at +this crisis; they betook themselves behind trees, protected by which +they crept nearer and nearer to us, we taking every opportunity of +firing, but with small effect. It being now nearly dark, we were obliged +to take to the hut, and defend ourselves there as best we could. When +inside, they threw a great many spears through the tarpaulin, very +fortunately with no other effect than that of one of them just grazing +my head. This kind of siege was carried on about four hours, we firing a +shot now and then when we thought we could perceive the dim outline of +one of them gliding through the dark, and they sending an occasional +spear, and giving a yell. What we most feared was their making an +attempt to set the hut on fire, for if successful in this (and the day +having been very warm, our tarpaulin would have burned like so much +paper) it would have been all up with us. + +We had almost given up all hopes of life, and a sort of stubborn, dogged +desperation seized me such as I never before felt, and such as I trust I +never may again feel. We were reduced to nearly a dozen rounds of +ammunition which we resolved to save for the rush. About midnight I was +horribly startled by the stock-keeper announcing that on his side of the +hut (we each of us guarded one side) he thought he could distinguish a +fire-stick at some distance, and, on looking, we could plainly perceive +it approaching nearer and nearer, until it came within what we +considered safe gunshot, when I told the stockman, who was the best +shot, to take good aim. He fired, and the fire-stick dropped on the +ground. A good deal of yelling followed, but they did not again venture +to show fire. + +Everything after an hour remained quiet; the cattle had long since been +rushed off the island, and the Blacks, we supposed, had gone to rest, +preparatory to an attack at daybreak. Towards dawn, being faint and weak +through anxiety and fasting,—for we had had nothing for twenty-four +hours,—we determined on having some tea; but before it could be got +ready we again heard the Blacks yelling most furiously. The stockman and +hutkeeper thereupon gave it as their opinion, that our only hope of +escape was in immediately quitting the hut, and attempting, if possible, +to get across to Barratta; so, instantly decamping, we crossed the +lagoon in a canoe, which we then dragged across a few hundred yards of +land to the river. This we also quickly crossed. Just as we reached the +Barratta bank, we heard a most awful hullabaloo at Wirrai, in which +noises our friends the Blacks were giving vent to their feelings of +disgust and disappointment at not finding us at home. Before they could +overtake us, we were safe at Barratta. “To be continued in our next,” as +the Editors of periodicals often say. + + In a Second Letter the Narrative is resumed. + +I could see plainly depicted in the faces of the two men who were in +charge of the Barratta station, a considerable degree of suspicion as to +the extent of our courage in the Wirrai affair. They were both plucky +men, but their notions underwent a great change the next day. The day we +escaped, we heard nothing more of the natives, except now and then their +distant yells; so I sent up a man on horseback to the next station for +assistance, to help us to find and recover the cattle. But the +superintendent either would not or could not give us any, although all +his servants, to a man, volunteered to go. I was obliged, therefore, to +allow my four men to proceed alone. I think I mentioned that I had +burned my foot very severely, and by this time, from the work I had had +to undergo, I was in great agony from it. But I offered the men, if any +one of them objected to it, he could remain in the hut, and I would go +in his place. They all, however, readily agreed to go, for, in truth, +remaining behind was by far the most dangerous post, inasmuch as the +Blacks, from their numbers, could easily circumvent the men, or keep +them at bay, while they attacked the hut, and I could have done little +myself, in the way of defence, with only an old lockless piece, to +discharge which it was necessary to use a fire-stick. Before they left, +the stockman took me aside, and, with much kindness, implored me +earnestly, for my own safety, to take a horse, and stop out on the +plain. He told me, at the same time, that he did not expect to come back +alive; “but,” said he, “it does not matter a straw what becomes of us, +for not one of us would be missed.” This disinterestedness struck me not +a little, as showing a high trait of fine feeling, coming as it did from +an old convict who had been transported for life, and had once been +condemned to be hanged. However, I resolved to take my chance in the +hut, and very glad I was that I did so afterwards, as I should have +looked very foolish, when my men returned, seated on a horse, and ready +to make a bolt. I had waited about an hour with my old gun and +fire-stick in hand, without hearing a sound to break the horrid +stillness which seemed at that particular time to reign paramount around +me, when a distant volley of gunshot burst upon my ear, and then a faint +volley of yells. In a short time the sounds were repeated; again and +again, but nearer and nearer, and more and more distinct, a shot or two +at a time, with horrible yells filling up the interlude until I could +distinguish my men retreating with an immense semicircle of natives +trying to encompass them and cut them off from the hut. My men retreated +to the water’s edge in capital order, and then faced round to the enemy, +for it would have been sure death to have attempted to cross in the face +of so many of the foe. After a good deal of skirmishing at this point, a +very old Black took a green bough, and standing a little out from the +rest, made a long harangue to the white men in his own language, which +of course was just so much Hebrew to them; but being anxious for a truce +they ceased firing. Another Black who could talk a little English now +came forward, and after a good deal of jabber, concluded a peace, one +condition of which was that they were to give up everything they had +taken from the Wirrai hut. Of course we well knew, or at least fully +expected, that this treaty was all hollow on their side, and like +lovers’ vows, made only to be broken; but the truth was, we were glad +enough to get a little respite even though for ever so short a time. +After restoring most of the things they had stolen, the Blacks drew off +in a body to the other side of the river. + +The stockman informed me, that, when they started on their search, they +first crossed the river, and then made away over to the Collegian, where +they soon espied a few Blacks, apparently reconnoitring, who, when they +perceived the white men, made signals to other Blacks beyond them, and +who, in like manner, signalled others still further away: presently they +saw slowly approaching them a dense black body which the two men who had +not been at Wirrai the day before took to be the cattle they were in +search of, but which the more experienced stockman at once declared to +be a vast body of the Blacks. The two men at first laughed at this idea +as a good joke, but were soon confirmed as to its correctness, when they +changed their tone, and began to think it high time to return. On, +however, they came in a dense body, and when nearly within gunshot, +spread themselves out, or deployed—as our military brother would I +suppose call it—and pressing on in a large semicircle, endeavoured so to +manœuvre, as to cut off the escape of the retreating _army_ in the +direction of the hut as before related. + +The truce, as we had anticipated, proved a very short one, as you will +presently see. The day following the above incidents, I sent the +stockman and another, to see after the surviving cattle which our black +friends informed us had got out of the island and gone across the +country to the Murray, which was true. The men had been gone about three +hours, when about a hundred of the warriors came up to the hut—without +their spears, but with plenty of tomahawks—pretending to be good +friends. I told the two men who were working outside, to keep a sharp +lookout, as I suspected their friendship was not of that description I +most coveted or admired; and being myself scarcely able to move, I sat +down in a corner of the hut by a table, with a gun close by me, a brace +of pistols in my belt, and another on the table. I told the Blacks to +keep outside the hut; but they, gradually edging their way in, soon +nearly filled it: and seeing that there was no chance of keeping them +out, except by proceeding to extremities, I contented myself with +watching their motions with all the coolness I could command. They began +talking very quietly at first, and I noticed the gentleman I mentioned +who could talk a little English, edging by little and little towards me, +sometimes talking to his companions and sometimes addressing me. I +pretended not to notice him particularly, though at the same +time—without looking directly at him—I could see his eyes rolling from +the direction of mine to the fire-arms like a revolving lamp. Soon the +jabbering became louder and louder (they were talking themselves into a +rage), and I thought I could hear the names of some of those who had +fallen, made use of. All the while the above-mentioned black fellow was +shuffling closer and closer to me, until i’ faith I thought it was high +time to act my part in the scene, or give up all thoughts of life. With +all the calmness I was master of, I took up a pistol from the table, and +taking my English friend by the arm, pointed it at his head, and told +him to order all his companions to quit the hut; he shook like an aspen +leaf, and turned as white as a Black well can, and ordered them to go +out, which they immediately did without a word; I then led him after +them, and bade them leave the place, and return to their camp, which +they likewise did. + +I look upon that as about the narrowest escape I ever had; for the +Blacks have since told me that they were on the point of making a rush +upon us, when it was providentially stopped by the timely proceeding +mentioned. Had they done so, nothing of course could have saved us. Next +day three or four hundred of them passed the hut in dead silence; and +not one of them called. They were all fully armed and painted with red +ochre (their uniform for war), and I conjectured they were up to some +mischief, but what I could not tell. + +In about a week we again had the pleasure of seeing them coming in great +numbers, and camping in an island about a mile off. From certain signs +which experience had taught us, we were well assured that they intended +making a grand attack upon our hut. I had no one living at Wirrai then; +and as there were only four of us at Barratta, viz., H., (who had just +arrived), myself and two men, (the two who had been sent after the +cattle, were still away,) and wishing to give the Blacks a severe +lesson, we sent to the next station for as many men as they could spare. + +The man we sent had only just reached the station, when the Commissioner +of the district chanced also to arrive there. Now the Commissioner in +those days was a man of great authority; in fact, altogether more like a +little king, than any less lordly personage: so, instead of coming down +himself with his police to our assistance, he allowed the superintendent +to send six of his men, while he himself remained where he was “otium +cum” for in truth the old fellow—to say nothing of his love of ease, was +of old Falstaff’s opinion touching the advisable predominance of a +certain quality in the exercise of valour. The men arrived in great +silence at midnight, and the Blacks fortunately knew nothing of their +arrival; for if they had, they would have deferred their attack until a +more seasonable opportunity when we were not so well prepared for their +reception. + +Daylight came, and in the distance we could see their dusky figures +crossing the lagoon to one side. They had only three canoes, so that it +was a considerable time before all were landed. They then gathered +together in a clump in dead silence, and held a council of war, thinking +themselves unobserved all the time. At sunrise they slowly approached, +and only those of us whom they expected to see showed out to them, and +without arms; they appeared to have no other arms than their tomahawks; +but every man of them was dragging a large jagged spear with their toes +through the long grass. When, by the way, one of these spears enters a +man’s body, it is impossible to get it out again, except by cutting the +flesh all round it, or pushing it right through to the other side. As +they advanced nearer, they spoke, and continued talking to us all the +time in the most friendly strains, until within about twenty yards; when +just as they (at a signal given by one of them) were stooping to pick up +their spears to make a rush, the men in the hut let drive through +loopholes right among them; and we all made a simultaneous rush, and put +them to rout in a manner that would have given the Old Duke intense +satisfaction had he been looking on. How many fell, I cannot say, as +they always try to drag their dead from the field, and all around us, +except on the water-side, was long grass and reeds; two were left dead, +and these we buried. + +To detail all the skirmishes and the Parthian description of fighting +with the Blacks for the eighteen months which ensued, would only weary +you. Where, little more than three years ago, ours was the only station +in this direction, being five miles beyond any other, there are now +stations formed a hundred miles below us, and even ladies grace the +river forty miles down, one of them married to an old school-fellow of +ours, viz., Brougham, nephew of Lord Brougham. Among other diversions, I +have been employing myself in making a flower-garden, for independently +of my love of flowers, I think their contemplation, and engagement in +their cultivation, has a humanising, or, if you will, a civilising +effect on the mind, such as I can assure you we require in the Bush. + + + + + SUPPOSING. + + +Supposing a Royal Duke were to die. Which is not a great stretch of +supposition, + + For golden lads and lasses must, + Like chimney-sweepers, come to dust: + +Supposing he had been a good old Duke with a thoroughly kind heart, and +a generous nature, always influenced by a sincere desire to do right, +and always doing it, like a man and a gentleman, to the best of his +ability: + +And supposing, this Royal Duke left a son, against whom there was no +imputation or reproach, but of whom all men were disposed to think well, +and had no right or reason to think otherwise: + +And supposing, this Royal Duke, though possessed of a very handsome +income in his lifetime, had not made provision for this son; and a +rather accommodating Government (in such matters) were to make provision +for him, at the expense of the public, on a scale wholly unsuited to the +nature of the public burdens, past, present, and prospective, and +bearing no proportion to any kind of public reward, for any sort of +public service: + +I wonder whether the country could then, with any justice, complain, +that the Royal Duke had not himself provided for his son, instead of +leaving his son a charge upon the people! + +I should think the question would depend upon this:—Whether the country +had ever given the good Duke to understand, that it, in the least +degree, expected him to provide for his son. If it never did anything of +the sort, but always conveyed to him, in every possible way, the +rapturous assurance that there was a certain amount of troublesome Hotel +business to be done, which nobody but a Royal Duke could by any +possibility do, or the business would lose its grace and flavor, then, I +should say, the good Duke aforesaid might reasonably suppose that he +made sufficient provision for his son, in leaving him the Hotel +business; and that the country would be a very unreasonable country, if +it made any complaint. + +Supposing the country _did_ complain, though, after all. I wonder what +it would still say, in Committee, Sub Committee, Charitable Association, +and List of Stewards, if any ungenteel person were to propose ignoble +chairmen! + +Because I should like the country to be consistent. + + * * * * * + + 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 78185 *** |