Chapter IX

It was nearly ten o’clock on the following morning before Edgar reached the _Bedford_, Covent Garden. He found the American in his private room waiting his arrival, and clad in a loose dressing-gown, which made him look extra tall and thin—a wonderful garment, embracing every known hue and colour, and strongly resembling, save as to its garishness, a Canadian wood in the fall. Mr Slimm laid aside a disreputable brier he was smoking, as soon as he perceived his visitor. ‘Morning!’ he said briskly. ‘Tolerably punctual. Hope you don’t object to the smell of tobacco so early?’

‘I don’t know,’ Edgar replied, throwing himself down in a chair. ‘Like most well-regulated Britons, I cannot say I am partial to the smell of tobacco before breakfast.’

‘Do you know,’ Mr Slimm responded dryly, ‘I have seen the time when I never smoked before breakfast. I don’t allude to any great outbreak of virtue on my part; but the fact is, when a man can’t get a breakfast, he can’t be accused of smoking before it—no, sir.’ Having administered this crushing piece of logic with characteristic force, Mr Slimm rang the bell and proceeded to order ‘the fixings,’ which was his term for the matutinal repast.

‘You Britishers have got some sound notions on the subject of dinners and promiscuous refreshment; but your imagination don’t soar to breakfast. There’s nothing substantial about it,’ said Mr Slimm, after finishing a pound or so of steak. ‘The Francatelli who rules the kitchen here is fairly good; and I flatter myself if I stay here much longer he will know what a breakfast is. I stayed for a week at a little place off the Strand once; but I was almost starved. Ham and eggs, chops and steaks, was the programme, with a sole, by way of a treat, on Sundays.’

‘Very sad,’ replied Edgar, with considerable gravity. ‘You must have suffered. You don’t seem, however, particularly short here.’

‘Well, no,’ Mr Slimm admitted, at the same time helping himself to fish; ‘I can manage here.’

‘I hope last night’s little scrimmage has not injured your appetite this morning?’ Edgar asked politely.

‘Not much. Æneas Slimm generally can pick up his crumbs tolerably. This little village is a fine place to sharpen the appetite.’

‘How long do you propose to stay here?’

‘I don’t know; it all depends. I am doing London, you see, and when I do a place, I do it well. You’ve got some fine old landmarks here—very fine,’ said Mr Slimm with proverbial American reverence for the antique. ‘I guess we should be proud of the Tower over to New York—yes, sir.’

‘I have never been over it,’ Edgar said carelessly.

‘Do, tell. Man, I guess you’re funning. Seems to me kind o’ incredible for an Englishman to live in London and not see the Tower.’

‘Really, Mr Slimm, I have never seen the Tower.’

‘Wall, if this don’t beat snakes! Never seen the Tower!’ exclaimed the American, chipping his third egg. ‘Maybe you never heard of a picturesque pile known to the inquiring stranger as the British Museum?—Now, _have_ you ever heard of Westminster Abbey?’

‘Well,’ said Edgar laughingly, ‘I believe I have; but I must confess that I have never been inside either of the places you mention.’

‘Wonderful! Mr Seaton, you’re born to make a name. The man who can pass these places without emotion, ain’t no common shake. I guess you’re the kind of matter they make genius out of.’

‘You seem to be astonished. Surely, in New York, you have buildings and churches quite as fine as anything in London?’

‘You think so, do you? Wall, if it’s any consolation to you, keep on thinking so; it won’t hurt any one.—Mr Seaton,’ continued Slimm, lowering his voice reverently, ‘when I get pottering about down at Westminster, and look at the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, strike me if I don’t wish I was a Britisher myself!’

‘That is high praise indeed; and I think it is due to your native patriotism to say your approval does you credit. But candidly, it always struck me that our Houses of Parliament are particularly mean-looking for their position.’

‘Maybe, maybe,’ Mr Slimm replied meditatively; ‘but there’s something about them that makes me feel chockful of poetry. When I wander into the Abbey among these silent stones and listen to that grand organ, I feel it does me good.’

‘You do not look like a man who took any particular delight in music.’

‘I don’t, and that’s a fact. I don’t know F sharp from a bull’s foot; but I can feel it. When the artist presiding at the instrument pulls out that wonderful stop like a human voice, I feel real mean, and that’s a fact—yes, sir.’

‘It is wonderful what an effect music has on the human understanding,’ Edgar replied. ‘“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” My wife always says’——

‘Your wife! I didn’t know you were married.’

‘Considering I never told you that interesting fact, I do not see very well how you could know,’ Edgar replied with a smile; which was, however, not so cordially received by Mr Slimm.

‘Um,’ he said doubtfully.—‘Now, look here, my young friend; I’m a rough chap, and I’ve just got to say my mind, if I die for it. Don’t you think a young married man has no business in such a place as we met last night?’

‘But, you see, I had business there,’ Edgar said, still smiling. ‘It was stern business, and nothing else, which took me to that place.’

‘You’ve got the bulge of me, and that’s a fact.’

‘You mean, you don’t understand. Well, I am what is usually known—or rather, in my case, unknown—as a literary man. I am working up a series of articles on gambling-houses.’

‘Why don’t you get on a more respectable line?’

Edgar tapped his pocket and nodded significantly.

‘Hard up,’ said Mr Slimm. ‘Case of needs must when what’s-his-name drives. You don’t look as if you were dragged up to this sort of thing neither?’

‘To be candid with you, I was not,’ Edgar replied, urged by some strange impulse to confide in the American. ‘I am a university man without money. My history is a common one. Educated at a public school, and afterwards at Cambridge, I am expected to get a living in some mysterious way. All my little money was spent upon my education, and then I had to shift for myself. Much good my second-class honours have done me.’

‘Then, to prove your wisdom, you got married?’

‘Of course. But now comes the most remarkable part of my story. My wife was her uncle’s heiress—not that her money was any inducement to me—and I was engaged to her with his approval. It was arranged I was to manage his property, and we were to live with him. Then a relative of his—a lady—came to stay, and everything went wrong from that time. Finally, acting under the lady’s wonderful fascination, my wife’s uncle forbade our marriage, and ordered her to marry a nephew of the lady’s. This, of course, she refused to do, and was consequently disinherited.’

‘What sort of a seraph was the lady?’ asked Mr Slimm, with considerable interest.

‘Don’t mention her, pray. She had the evil-eye, if ever woman had.—But to continue. After our wedding, we came to London, and at different times tried to bring about a reconciliation; but to no effect. Then the old gentleman died.’

‘A common story enough; but considerable rough on you and your wife,’ said Mr Slimm.

‘After that, a most remarkable occurrence happened. When the will was proved, not a sixpence of the old gentleman’s money could be found—that is, excepting the few hundreds in the local bank for household expenses. It is four years ago now, and to this day not one farthing has turned up.’

‘Penny plain, and twopence coloured,’ the American said sententiously—‘to be continued in our next. There’s the making of a sound family romance about this.—Anything more?’

‘A little. An old companion of my wife’s turned up the other day—or I should say my wife found her accidentally in London. She was standing in the rain on Waterloo Bridge, looking into the water.—You comprehend, don’t you?’

‘“One more unfortunate, weary of breath,”’ quoted Mr Slimm with a tender inflection which surprised Edgar. ‘Go on.’

‘It was a wonderful coincidence, if nothing more. It appeared that my wife’s uncle on his dying bed gave her a paper for my wife; and he charged her most solemnly to find her and deliver it, which has been done.’

‘And it was some secret cipher, bet my boots.’

‘On the contrary, it is only a letter—a valedictory letter, containing no clue whatever.’

‘Stranger, you take this matter sort of calm,’ said Slimm solemnly. ‘I should like to see that letter. Mark me; providence has a hand in this, and I want you not to forget it. Such a meeting as that between your wife and her old companion didn’t happen for nothing. Listen, and I’ll tell you what once happened to me in Australia. I shall never forget it. I’m a rich man now, for my wants; but I was poor then; in fact, it was just at the time when fortune had turned. I had, at the time I am speaking of, nearly a thousand ounces of dust buried in my tent. As far as I could tell, not a soul in the camp knew what I had, as I had kept it quiet. Well, one night, I started out to visit an old chum in a neighbouring claim. It was nearly dark when I started, and I had no companion but my dog. I had not gone very far when he began to act in a ridiculous manner, barking and snapping at my horse’s heels, till I thought he was stark mad. Then he turned towards home, stopping every now and then to whine, and finally he struck off home in a bee-line. I rode on, never thinking anything about it till suddenly my horse stumbled and nearly threw me. He had never done such a thing before, and I hadn’t got twenty yards before he did it again. Stranger! I want you to believe I was scared, and I don’t scare easy either. Then I thought of the tales I had read about dogs and their cunning, and, urged by something I can’t understand, I turned back. You’d better believe I’m glad I did. When I got back to my tent, I stole in quietly, and there were three of the biggest scoundrels in the camp digging away exactly over the gold. I didn’t give them much time for meditation, I reckon. It was a tough fight; but I saved my gold. I got this valentine to remember it by; darn their ugly pictures;’ and Mr Slimm bared his huge chest, and displayed a livid gash seamed and lined thereon.

‘And the robbers—what became of them?’

‘Suffocation,’ Slimm replied laconically. ‘The quality of mercy is strained pretty considerable in a mining camp.’

‘And the dog?’

‘Dead!—killed by these scoundrels. I ain’t powerful in the water-cart line; but I don’t mind saying I snivelled then. I can’t think of that faithful insect without a kind of lumpiness in my throat—And now, my friend, don’t you tell me there’s no such thing as fate. You mind if your affair don’t turn out trumps yet.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Edgar replied dubiously. ‘It is all forgotten now, though it was a nine days’ wonder in Somersetshire at the time.’

‘Somersetshire? Now, that’s strange. I’m going to Somersetshire in a few days to see a man I haven’t set eyes on for years. He is a very different man from me—a quiet, scholarly gentleman, a little older than myself. He is a bookish sort of man; and I met him in the mines. We kind of froze to each other; and when we parted, it was understood that whenever I came to England, I was to go and see him. What part of Somersetshire do you hail from?’

‘The name of my wife’s old home is Eastwood.’

‘Eastwood? Tell me quickly, is it possible that your wife’s uncle is Mr Charles Morton?’

‘The same,’ Edgar gasped.—‘What do you know of him?’

‘What do I know of him? Why, he was the man I was going to visit; and he’s dead, poor old fellow! You see, I always liked him, and once I saved his life. It’s a curious thing, but when you do a man a favour, or save his life, or any trifle of that kind, you always get to like him some way. Poor old Morton! Well, if this don’t beat snakes! And your wife is the little Nelly he was always raving about? Dear, dear!’

‘There must be something more than meets the eye here,’ Edgar said, with a little quaver in his voice. ‘Taking all the circumstances into consideration, it looks as if some inscrutable providence has a hand in it.’

‘You bet. I’m not particularly learned, nor no scholar; but I do remember some lines of your immortal poet which tells us “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.” The more I think of life, the more it puzzles me, and that’s a fact. To think of you and I—two people in five millions—meeting by such chance! And to think of your wife being the niece of my old friend!’

‘Did he speak much of her to you?’ Edgar asked.

‘A few. “Speak” is no word for it: he raved about her. If ever a man loved a girl, it was your uncle. You must not judge him harshly.’

‘I do not; I never did. That there has been collusion, or something more, I have always been convinced. He was so fond of me till his half-sister came; and as to Nelly, he worshipped her.’

‘He just did, I know. I should like to see that letter.’

‘So you shall; but really, I can see nothing in it.’

‘Try and describe it to me.’

‘That is soon done. It is a commonplace epistle, saying he wished to be remembered as a friend, asking me to forgive him, and hinting that if he had his life to live over again, how different things would be.’

‘That is only a blind, perhaps.—Describe the letter.’

‘It is written on part of a sheet of foolscap; and from the beginning of the first line to the finish, the paper is covered with writing.’

‘No heading or superscription, no signature?’ queried Mr Slimm.

‘No; it is not signed; but is precisely like a letter without heading or signature trimmed close up to the writing with a pair of scissors.’

‘And is it folded, or are there any lines about it?’

‘It is folded like an ordinary note, and there are various horizontal and perpendicular lines upon it. The lines are dotted. Can you make anything of it?’

‘Yes,’ said the American quietly. ‘I can make fortune of it. Show me that letter for five minutes, and I will show you something you would give ten thousand pounds to see.’

And so, arranging for an early meeting, they parted for the day.

* * * * *

Next morning, Eleanor told her husband of a curious dream she had had during the night. She thought she stood on a strange shore, with the sea spread out before her to the utmost horizon. It was sunrise, and coming towards her over the quiet waters, was a great ship—an ‘Argosy with golden sails’—and somehow she thought it brought golden treasure for her. Three times she dreamed the dream, and saw the stately ship. She asked Edgar what he thought of it. He said that dreams went by contraries.

(_To be concluded next month._)

LEGAL ANECDOTES.

The writer remembers hearing of a gentleman who, not wishing to pay the legal and recognised fee for a consultation with his lawyer, devised an expedient whereby he expected to gain the information he required without the usual cost. He accordingly invited the man ‘learned in the law’ to dine at his house on a particular evening, as a friend and an old acquaintance. The lawyer gladly accepted the invitation, and attended at the house of his friend and client prompt to the minute. The conversation for some time was very general and agreeable, and by-and-by the shrewd client, by hinting and suggesting, at last drew the lawyer out into a learned and explicit dissertation upon the subject the host wished to be informed upon. The client was pleased, satisfied, and smiling, chuckled in his sleeve, thinking how nicely he had wormed out the advice desired and pumped his lawyer, free of cost!

The feast over, the lawyer departed, equally pleased, and both being satisfied, all went as merry as a marriage bell. But a few days afterwards, the client received a letter from his lawyer informing him that the charge for professional consultation and advice was thirteen shillings and fourpence, and would he ‘kindly attend to the payment of same at his earliest convenience, and oblige.’ The client was wild—caught in his own trap. But being determined to outwit the lawyer and gain his own ends, he forwarded to the latter a bill for ‘dinner, wines, and accessories supplied’ on the 16th inst., amounting to thirteen shillings and fourpence, saying that if he would settle the inclosed bill, he should only be too pleased and happy to settle the lawyer’s little bill. The lawyer retorted by threatening to commence an action against mine host for selling wines without a license, unless his, the lawyer’s, bill was immediately paid. Do I need to say that the lawyer was victorious?

When I was a boy, I heard of a lawyer who was called up in the middle of a cold winter’s night to draw out the will of an old farmer who lived some three miles away, and who was dying. The messenger had brought a cart to convey the lawyer to the farm; and the latter in due time arrived at his destination. When he entered the house, he was immediately ushered into the sickroom, and he then requested to be supplied with pen, ink, and paper. There were none in the house! The lawyer had not brought any himself, and what was he to do? Any lead-pencil? he inquired. No; they had none. The farmer was sinking fast, though quite conscious. At last, the legal gentleman saw chalked up on the back of the bedroom door column upon column of figures in chalk. These were milk ‘scores’ or ‘shots.’ He immediately asked for a piece of chalk, and then, kneeling on the floor, he wrote out concisely upon the smooth hearthstone the last will and testament of the dying man! The farmer subsequently died. The hearthstone will was sent to the principal registry in London with special affidavits, and was duly proved, the will being deposited in the archives of the registry. I may mention that the law does not state upon what substance or with what instrument a will must be written.

It is stated that a lawyer was some time ago cross-examining a witness in a local court, when he asked: ‘Now, then, Patrick, listen to me. Did the defendant in this case strike the plaintiff with malice?’—‘No, sor, sure,’ replied Pat gravely; ‘he struck him wid the poker, bedad.’ Again he inquired of the same witness: ‘Did the plaintiff stand on the defensive during the affray?’—‘Divil a diffinsive, yer honour; he stood on the table.’

A celebrity noted for being ‘a bit of a poet’ was brought up before a bench of local magistrates for an assault, when the following conversation took place:

_Magistrate._ Is your name John Fray?

_Prisoner._ It is, your honour; so the people say.

_Mag._ Was it you who struck this man and caused the alarm?

_Pris._ Sure it was, your honour; but I thought there was no harm.

_Mag._ Now, stop that! Did you come here to make rhymes?

_Pris._ No, your honour; but it will happen sometimes.

The magistrate, laughing at the fellow’s ready wit, said: ‘Go away, you rascal, get out of my sight!’

_Pris._ (_smiling_). Thank ye, your honour; an’ a very good-night.

There was once a plain out-spoken judge, who, addressing the jury, said: ‘Gentlemen of the jury, in this case the counsel on both sides are unintelligible; the witnesses on both sides are incredible; and the plaintiff and defendant are both such bad characters, that to me it is indifferent which way you give your verdict.’

It was once reported to the notorious Judge Jeffries that the Prince of Orange was on the point of entering into the country, and that he was already preparing a manifesto as to his inducements and objects in so doing. ‘Pray, my Lord Chief Justice,’ said a gentleman present, ‘what do you think will be the heads of this manifesto?’—‘Mine will be one,’ he grimly replied.

An undoubted alibi was some time ago successfully proved in an American court as follows:

‘And you say that you are innocent of the charge of stealing this rooster from Mr Jones?’ queried the judge.

‘Yes, sir, I am innocent—as innocent as a child.’

‘You are confident you did _not_ steal the rooster from Mr Jones?’

‘Yes, sir; and I can prove it.’

‘How can you prove it?’

‘I can prove that I didn’t steal Mr Jones’ rooster, judge, because I stole two hens from Mr Graston same night, and Jones lives five miles from Graston’s.’

‘The proof is conclusive,’ said the judge; ‘discharge the prisoner.’

It is said that the other day a client received the following bill from his lawyer: ‘Attending and asking you how you did, 6s. 8d. Attending you on the pier, when you desired me to look through a piece of smoked glass, 6s. 8d. Looking through the same, 6s. 8d. Rubbing my eye, which watered, 13s. 4d. Attending at luncheon, when you praised the sandwiches and asked me to partake thereof, 6s. 8d. Consulting and asking my opinion thereon, when I said they were very good, 6s. 8d.’ Most probably the client treated this as a joke; or perhaps it drove him to extremities.

‘Gentlemen of the jury,’ said a counsel in a suit about a herd of hogs, ‘there were just thirty-six hogs in that drove; please to remember that fact—thirty-six hogs; just exactly three times as many as there are in that jury box, gentlemen.’ We are informed that that counsel did not win his case. The jury were not so pig-headed.

Judge Kent, the well-known jurist, presided in a case in which a man was indicted for burglary, and the evidence at the trial showed that the burglary consisted in cutting a hole through a tent in which several persons were sleeping, and then projecting his head and arm through the hole and abstracting various articles of value. It was claimed by his counsel that inasmuch as he never entered into the tent with his whole body, he had not committed the offence charged, and must therefore be set at liberty. In reply to this plea, the judge told the jury that if they were not satisfied that the whole man was involved in the crime, they might bring in a verdict of guilty against so much of him as was involved. The jury, after a brief consultation, found the right arm, the right shoulder, and the head of the prisoner guilty of the offence of burglary. The judge accordingly sentenced the right arm, the right shoulder, and the head to imprisonment with hard labour in the State prison for two years, remarking, that as to the rest of the man’s body, he might do with it what he pleased.

Lord Justice-clerk Braxfield was a man of few words and of strong business habits, and consequently when he courted his second wife, he said to her: ‘Lizzie, I’m looking out for a wife, and I thought you just the person to suit me. Let me have your answer on or off to-morrow, and nae mair aboot it.’ The lady, next day, replied in the affirmative. Shortly after the marriage, Lord Braxfield’s butler came to him to give up his situation because he could not bear her ladyship’s continual scolding. ‘Man,’ Braxfield exclaimed, ‘ye’ve little to complain of; ye may be thankfu’ ye’re no’ married to her.’

During the time that Brougham was rising in his profession, he had a friend, a brother-counsel, who had contracted the habit of commencing the examination of a witness in these words: ‘Now, sir, I am about to put a question to you, and I don’t care which way you answer it.’ Brougham, with others, had begun to grow tired of this eternal formula, and consequently one morning he met his brother-lawyer near the temple and addressed him thus: ‘Now, Jones, I am about to put a question to you, and I don’t care which way you answer it.—How do you do?’

The celebrated lawyer Butt was one night going home very late, when he was accosted by a desperate-looking villain in one of the suburbs of Dublin, and asked what he was going ‘to stand.’ ‘Well,’ replied Butt meekly, ‘I’m very sorry that I can’t give you much, my friend, but what I have we will share. Here,’ he continued, drawing a revolver from his pocket, ‘is a weapon which has six chambers; I will give you three, and’—— But the lawyer immediately found himself alone.

‘Mr Robinson,’ said counsel, ‘you say you once officiated in a pulpit. Do you mean that you preached?’—‘No, sir; I held the candle for the man who did.’ ‘Ah, the court understood you differently; they supposed that the discourse came from you.’—‘No, sir; I only throwed a light on it.’

‘Gentlemen of the jury,’ said an Irish barrister, ‘it will be for you to say whether this defendant shall be allowed to come into court with unblushing footsteps, with the cloak of hypocrisy in his mouth, and draw three bullocks out of my client’s pocket with impunity.’

We have heard of several cases of female ingenuity in aiding the escape of prisoners. Here is one. The criminals were handcuffed, and with their escort were awaiting the train which would convey them to the county jail. Suddenly a woman rushed through the crowd of spectators, and with a shower of tears, cried out: ‘Kiss me; good-bye, Ned.’ The escort good-naturedly allowed the process of osculation to be performed, and the sheriff smiled feelingly. The woman passed a key from her own to the prisoner’s mouth, with which he undid the ‘bracelets,’ and escaped whilst the train was in motion.

There is a girl who seems to have peculiar notions of breach of promise cases, for she threatens to sue her own father for breach of promise! She explains that the old gentleman first gave his consent to her marriage with her lover, and then withdrew it, and that in consequence her beau got tired of waiting, and has gone off with another girl.

‘Prisoner at the bar,’ said the judge to a man on his trial for murder, ‘is there anything you wish to say before sentence is passed upon you?’—‘Judge,’ replied the prisoner, ‘there has been altogether too much said already. I knew all along somebody would get hurt, if these people didn’t keep their mouths shut. It might as well be me, perhaps, as anybody else. Drive on, judge, and give me as little sentiment as you can get along on. I can stand hanging, but I hate gush.’

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS.

The annexation of Upper Burmah to the British Empire represents the most important addition to our possessions which has been made for very many years. Lying between India and China, the two most populous countries in the world, Burmah is favourably situated as a highway, along which a vast trade can be conducted. As to the country itself, it presents many valuable features. It has a plentiful rainfall, a healthy climate, and a luxuriant vegetation. The principal crops are rice, oil-seed, cotton, and tobacco. Sixty-one varieties of rice are known to cultivators, and half of these are of the hard kind familiar to us. The remainder have a soft glutinous grain, which is preferred by the natives of Burmah. The revenue and population of the country have both increased enormously during the past ten years.

In Mr Hallett’s interesting paper addressed to the members of the Scottish Geographical Society, entitled ‘A Survey for Railway Connections between India, Siam, and China,’ he showed that there is now no political hindrance to prevent our driving the locomotive up to the gates of China and opening up a vast trade with that prosperous empire. Mr Hallett has personally explored and surveyed Burmah, Siam, and the Shan States, and he points out how a railway can be made to join the Brahmapootra valley with the valley of the Irrawadi, and that such a railway could join the line which already finds a terminus at the seaport of Rangoon. This short line of railway, only one hundred and sixty-two miles in length, pays a good dividend, although it finds a formidable rival in the admirable flotilla of steamers which ply on the Irrawadi River hard by.

At a recent meeting of the Russian Geographical Society, M. Grjimaïlo gave an interesting description of the Pamir region, which we may remind our readers is a high tableland of Asia on the western limit of Little Tibet. His tour through this little-known region covered a period of eighteen months, during which time he was able to make extensive observations of its flora and fauna, as well as of the condition of its inhabitants. During the long winter, the people have to seek the shelter of their tents, and seem in the spring to wake up from a kind of lethargy with the joy and light-heartedness of children. The women do most of the work, which is of a pastoral kind. The country is intersected with enormous glaciers, and is situated at such a great elevation that the natives call it by a name which signifies ‘Roof of the World.’

The Cleopatra’s Needle which adorns Central Park, New York, has suffered much from transatlantic cold, and a mass of scales and chips has been removed from it by atmospheric influences, as thoroughly as if a number of masons had been set to work to achieve the same result. This gradual disintegration of the noble Egyptian obelisk has, however, been stopped by coating the monument with paraffin, which coating has given a slightly darker colour to the stone. Those who have charge of public buildings in Britain which have been built of perishable stone—and there are unfortunately many such—would do well to make a note of this employment of paraffin as a successful preservative.

A new artificial fireproof stone or plaster has recently been invented. Its principal constituent is asbestine, a mineral which is plentiful in certain localities in the State of New York, U.S.A. This asbestine, which is a silicate of magnesium, is mixed with powdered flint and caustic potash, and is then mingled with sufficient water-glass (silicate of soda) to make it into an adhesive plaster. In this condition it is prepared for transport, and is mixed with sand before use. This plaster is not only fireproof, but it adheres with wonderful tenacity to perfectly smooth surfaces. It does not, therefore, require a roughened surface before attachment, such as a wall composed of nailed laths, as is the usual case. A common mode of applying it is to line a room with sheet-iron, protected from rust by a coating of asphaltum, and to spread upon this metal basis a thickness of the new plaster. Besides being unaffected by heat, it will not crack if water is thrown upon it when in a heated state.

Mr Hannay, of Glasgow, has invented a new form of lamp which will prove very useful for various industrial purposes, where the more intense rays of the electric arc are not readily available. The lamp consists of a cylindrical vessel containing about thirty gallons of any heavy hydrocarbon oil, such as creosote. At one side of this vessel is an entry-pipe for air, which must be under pressure of about fifteen pounds on the square inch. The air thus admitted forces the oil up a vertical pipe which springs from the bottom of the vessel, and ends in a burner which extends for some feet outside the oil receptacle. Another pipe surrounds the oil-tube, and through this, part of the air is carried, so that at the point where both tubes terminate, there rushes forth a blast of mingled air and creosote in fine particles. This is turned into a flame of great brightness when a match is applied to it, a flame, too, which is unaffected by wind or rain. The quantity of oil given above will supply a light for about twenty hours, which will be effective at two hundred yards from the lamp. This contrivance has already been used with success at the Forth Bridge works. It is now being introduced for various purposes by Mr James Sinclair, 64 Queen Victoria Street, London.

A plan for rendering paper so tough that it can be used for various purposes for which formerly it was considered there was ‘nothing like leather,’ has recently been published. The process is of continental origin. The paper pulp during manufacture is mixed with chloride of zinc in solution, and the more concentrated this solution is, the tougher is the finished paper. It is said that the new material has been successfully used in boxmaking, combmaking, and has actually taken the place of leather in bootmaking. This last application of the material is perhaps not quite so much of a novelty as it seems to be; for in the cheaper kinds of boots and shoes, the soles, instead of being of solid leather, are often made of a compound of which brown-paper pulp seems to be the chief constituent. The adulteration is not apparent to the wearer until wet weather makes it very evident indeed.

In the building operations of man he uses hair to bind the particles of lime together in forming a plaster wall. In the work of nature, much the same end is achieved by binding loose particles of soil together with the rootlets of various plants. The continually slipping particles of a newly made embankment have to be rendered secure by this means; but such grasses as have hitherto been used for the purpose need several months for their development. M. Cambier, of the French railway service, has recently pointed out that the double poppy is a valuable plant for this purpose. Its germination is rapid, and in a week or two its rootlets are sufficiently strong to give some support to the soil. But at the end of three or four months, the roots attain a length of twelve inches, and form a far stronger network to hold the soil in place than any grass known. The plant is an annual, but it sows itself after the first year.

We are glad to notice that a ‘Plumage League’ is being established for the purpose of discountenancing the inhuman fashion now in vogue of introducing the dead bodies of birds as ornaments on ladies’ bonnets, hats, and dresses. Lady Mount-Temple, in advocating the establishment of this League, the members of which will bind themselves to discourage in every way the use of plumage in dress, writes thus: ‘A milliner told me she had put twelve birds on one (dress). Another told us of a ball-dress covered with canaries.’ We should rejoice to see the Princess of Wales or some other member of the Royal Family setting her veto upon the cruel practice of adorning female dress with the bodies of our feathered songsters.

The Crematorium at Woking Cemetery has just been used for the third time under the auspices of the Cremation Society. In France, the Prefecture of the Seine is about to spend three thousand pounds on the erection of a similar building in the well-known cemetery, Père-la-Chaise. Sanitary reformers will rejoice that cremation is making some progress in both countries, although that progress is slow.

The fastest time ever made by a steam-vessel has recently been made by the Falke torpedo boat, built by Messrs Yarrow for the Austrian government. The mean speed of her six runs over the measured mile—during which time she was fully fitted and in fighting trim—reached the wonderful figure of 22.263 knots per hour. She then ran, according to contract with the Austrian government, for an hour at full speed, when she covered just twenty-two and a quarter miles. It is said that the vessel answered her helm well throughout these trials, and that there was very little vibration from the engines even when going at the highest speed. Messrs Yarrow are building twenty-four torpedo boats for the British government, besides several others for foreign customers.

Every poison is supposed to have its antidote, and the establishment of the torpedo system has necessitated the introduction of an antidote in the shape of torpedo catchers. The first vessel of this type which has been constructed has lately been tried at Portsmouth with satisfactory results, not only with regard to speed, but also with regard to manœuvring power. The vessel was fitted with an inner and an outer rudder on the system of Mr J. S. White, and known as the ‘turn-about’ method. This vessel is built of thin steel; it possesses a conning tower on deck, from which it is steered, and it is one hundred and fifty feet in length.

Some interesting gunnery experiments have just been concluded at Portland Bill. Their object was to test the value of the Moncrieff or ‘disappearing’ principle of mounting guns for coast-defence, a system which, like most others, has its detractors as well as its advocates. At Portland, a dummy gun only was used, so that the ship firing upon it from the sea had not the disadvantage of attacking a foe who could hit back. The gun was placed in a pit, and was so arranged that it remained hidden for two and a half minutes; then it appeared for half a minute, delivered its imaginary fire—which was represented by a puff of gunpowder to aid the foe in sighting it—and again disappeared. The ship _Hercules_ failed to make any impression upon the gun at all, although it was only made of wood and canvas. We may therefore conclude that the Moncrieff or ‘disappearing’ system of mounting guns is the most effectual which has ever been brought forward, and we may look for its great extension in our coast-defences.

Professor Germain Sée, of Paris, during a course of lectures on dietetics, has recently pointed out the importance of water in connection with food, that fluid being the only one which can dissolve the salts taken with the food into the body, and eliminate them from the system. He also remarked that it was quite impossible for man, an omnivorous being, to exist entirely on vegetable foods. So-called vegetarians are forced to make up for the want of solid meat by consuming eggs, milk, and butter. A healthy man must for his food draw upon the elements furnished by the three kingdoms of nature.

A new kind of turning-lathe, which seems really to possess the merit of novelty, is described by the _Scientific American_. It is intended for turning such articles as balusters for staircases, when such articles are required in quantities, and when they are wanted to be square or octagonal, instead of round. The lathe consists of a kind of skeleton cylinder, upon the surface of which the square rods which are ultimately to form balusters are readily clamped by levers working at each end. An ordinary T-rest supports the tool in cutting the required ornamentation on the rods as the lathe revolves. When one side of the rods has thus been treated, they are unclamped, turned over, and once more fixed in place. In this way the four sides of the square rods are operated upon one after the other. This lathe, which has been patented, will finish with clean, sharp edges about fifty balusters or other pieces of wood an hour.

The _Lancet_ alludes to an alleged discovery which has been made in Columbia, which, if it should be confirmed, will be a valuable aid in surgery. It is reported that a certain shrub which is called ‘aliza’ exudes a juice which has the property of stopping hemorrhage, so that if a surgeon’s operating knife were only smeared with this juice, his work could be done with little or no loss of blood.

A meteorological station twenty thousand feet above the sea-level is being established by the Mexican government among their highest mountains. Those who remember the hardships which were encountered by Mr Wragge in his constant visits to the instruments on Ben Nevis before the observatory building was established there, will be prepared to understand the difficulties of dealing with a station at so much higher an altitude. For this reason, the instruments are being constructed to work automatically, to be self-recording, and, as far as possible, to require no attention for twelve months, if need be.

The Chinese alphabet consists in its integrity of about forty thousand pictorial symbols, and it is this alphabet which with some modifications has been used from time immemorial by their clever and more advanced neighbours in Japan. But the adoption of Western ways which has since 1868 been so rapid among the Japanese, has made them discontented with a system so elaborate and bewildering. They have therefore formed a Society called the Roman Alphabet Association, by which they seek to replace the cumbrous Chinese alphabet by the twenty-two letters of the Roman alphabet which are found sufficient to express all the sounds found in the Japanese language. The change is a necessary one, and marks a new and important phase of Japanese progress. It is somewhat akin to the movement which has for some time been in progress in Germany, by which Roman characters are being substituted for the old Gothic ones.

At a late meeting of the Royal Astronomical Society, it was announced that M. M. Henry had photographed part of the Milky-way. The exposure required was an hour, but the star discs were perfectly round and sharp. This wonderful result shows that the driving clock for keeping the telescope in motion, so as to counteract the motion of the earth, must have been of the most perfect kind.

From Germany, we learn that in that country during the last ten years the leather manufacture has shown a most extraordinary development. Large factories have been established, which produce goods of the highest quality, and compare favourably with those of foreign make. No expenses have been spared to import the best machines; the sons of the most prominent manufacturers are sent to America, England, and France, to learn the manufacture of the leather trade in all its details. The largest firms study principally the American methods of manufacturing, and the consequence is that many German factories are managed after the American system. German manufacturers are anxious to raise their goods to the highest perfection, and look forward to the time when German machine-made ladies’ boots will be found in the West End of London.

We learn from a South African newspaper that Natal is at last going to cultivate tea in earnest. The aroma of the samples produced is described as excellent; it has a taste by no means unpleasant, which is not characteristic of China teas, but it is one which would be readily acquired and appreciated. It is anticipated that fifty thousand pounds will be grown this season.

A large German lithographic firm doing a considerable trade in England, it is said has entirely left off printing from stone, and uses zinc plates only. The saving is said to be very considerable, and may partly explain how they are able to print more cheaply than our own lithographers. A Chicago trade journal estimates that if a work is to be printed in ten colours, requiring five double-sized stones of twenty-eight by forty-two inches, the cost of each stone would be about twelve pounds, while a first-class zinc plate costs eight shillings.

Mr H. T. Crewe, 17 Sunning Hill Road, Lewisham, London, S.E., has recently patented a system by which conservatories, the various structures of the horticulturist, and other buildings, can be fitted with glass roofs and walls without the use of putty. The system is an extremely simple one. Panes of glass are laid upon parallel rafters or beams. They are not placed flatly one beside the other, but the upper panes are made to slightly overlap the lower panes. They are fixed together by means of little metal clips, which receive screws, that afterwards pass through holes in the panes and into the rafters or beams. Among the advantages claimed for the new system of glazing are, that it causes the roof to remain perfectly rain-proof, and that the greatest facility and despatch are attained in detaching and replacing panes. Condensation is carried away from the inside of the glass by the grooves which are cut in the rafters or beams.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

SAFETY IN RAILWAY TRAVELLING.

Mr Edward Harford, general secretary to the Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants, replying to a request forwarded by peers, members of the House of Commons, and others for information as to the causes of railway accidents, and the means which, in the opinion of the Society, ought to be adopted for the safety of the general public and of railway servants, has issued a list of twenty-three proposals which set forth the necessary requirements. The principal are the following:

‘All railways ought to be worked on the absolute block-system, strictly carried out, so that no two trains shall ever be in one section at the same time.

The blocks and interlocking systems should be electrically combined and controlled, so that the safety of a block-section shall be under the control of two signalmen.

Junction block-working should be adopted at all junctions, so that no two trains which can foul each other at the points and crossings shall ever be allowed to approach a junction at one and the same time. All sidings and goods-lines should be provided with properly interlocked safety-points.

One code of block-system regulations and one pattern of signals should be adopted throughout the kingdom. A red light should be the only danger-signal. The practice of using purple or other lights is highly dangerous.

Facing-points ought to be avoided as far as possible. All facing-points, and points leading to main-lines, ought to be provided with a locking-bar and bolts, and properly interlocked with the signals and with the electric apparatus.

All passenger-trains ought to be provided with an efficient automatic continuous brake, having brake-blocks upon the wheels of the engine, tender, and every vehicle throughout the train, and fulfilling the five conditions laid down by the Board of Trade, August 30, 1877, and highly approved by the Society. To avoid the present dangerous practice of brake-power being cut off and rendered useless by the introduction of an unfitted vehicle, it ought to be the law that the Company should not be allowed to send vehicles over the line of another Company unless each vehicle is provided with the same form of continuous brake as that used by such foreign Company.

All goods-engines should be fitted with brakes upon their wheels, and those required occasionally for passenger-traffic should have continuous brakes.

All passenger-trains should be fitted with efficient means of communication with the driver and guards. Passengers should be able to reach it without putting their hands outside the window. The present cord-system is unreliable, and the plan of having no communication on trains which stop every twenty miles is very risky to the public.

All passenger-platforms should be raised to the standard height, and all carriages fitted with a high continuous footboard, to prevent persons falling between platforms and trains.

The crank or driving-axles of locomotive engines should be taken out after they have run a certain mileage. What the mileage limit should be ought to be at once decided by the Companies and the Board of Trade.

Overwork on railways is highly dangerous, and ought to be abolished.’

HOW CHILDREN GROW.

During the International Medical Conference held in Copenhagen in the summer of 1884, a paper read by the Rev. Mailing Hansen, Principal of the Danish Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, was listened to with marked attention and interest. It gave the results of the daily weighing and measurements of height which he had carried on for nearly three years on the one hundred and thirty pupils—seventy-two boys and fifty-eight girls—of the Institution, and demonstrated facts as to the development of the human body during the period of childhood that perfectly startled and astonished the assembled medical authorities, opening an entirely new field for investigation and reflection. Since then, Mr Hansen has continued his observations; and though he has yet a tremendous amount of work before him, he believes himself able to state now the outlines of the results he has obtained.

The children are weighed four times daily in batches of twenty—in the morning, before dinner, after dinner, and at bedtime, and each child is measured once a day. The common impression is, no doubt, that increase in bulk and height of the human body during the years of growth progresses evenly all through the year. This is not so. Three distinct periods are marked out, and within them some thirty lesser waverings have been observed. As for bulk, the maximum period extends from August until December; the period of equipoise lasts from December until about the middle of April; and then follows the minimum period until August. The lasting increase of bulk or weight is all accumulated during the first stage; the period of equipoise adds to the body about a fourth of that increase, but this gain is almost entirely spent or lost again in the last period.

The increase in height of the children shows the same division into periods, only in a different order. The maximum period of growth in height corresponds to the minimum period of increase in bulk, and _vice versâ_. In September and October a child grows only a fifth of what it did in June and July. In other words, during a part of the year—autumn and beginning of winter—the child accumulates bulk, but the height is stationary. In the early summer the bulk remains nearly unchanged, but the vital force and the nourishment are expended to the benefit of height. While the body works for bulk there is rest for the growth, and when the period of growth comes, the working for bulk is suspended. The human body has, consequently, the same distinctly marked periods of development as plants.

A CHESS-CLOCK.

An ingenious clock has recently been patented by Messrs Frisch and Schierwater, 29 Church Street, Liverpool. It not only shows the ordinary time, but registers on separate dials—marked respectively ‘black’ and ‘white’—the period occupied by the players in a game of chess. It also indicates the number of moves in a game and whose turn it is to play. Another feature is the index upon the dial. This can be set for any time agreed upon—from one to fifteen minutes—during which a move must be made. The expiration of that time is shown by an indicator and by the ringing of a bell. By pressing a knob at the top of the clock, it is possible to temporarily check the progress of the mechanism. This would of course become necessary upon the players requiring a rest, or upon any other interruption taking place. The invention is, we believe, the first clock that has been constructed with a view to recording the movements in chess-playing. It may of course be utilised for other purposes. Being a travelling clock, it may be employed for indicating the times of different countries. The index and call-bell may be used, too, for public meetings, allowing so much time for each speaker; for a telephone Company, regulating an allowance of time; or for the testing of any machinery. The movement can be fitted to any existing clock. As a result of practical trial, the ‘Schierwater’s’ Patent Chess-Clock has been commended by many well-known chess-players.

NOVEL PHOTOGRAPHIC EXPERIMENTS.

The sinking of the caissons of the Forth Bridge has afforded opportunity for testing whether it was possible to obtain photographs below water in compressed air by the aid of electric light. To the novel conditions under which these attempts—the first, we believe, in this country—were made, their chief interest is due, rather than to any particular success hitherto achieved. We have recently described the method of founding by compressed air, and depicted the interior of a caisson, so that our readers are conversant with the surroundings under which the attempts were made.

A trial was made on shore by electric light at night to determine the length of exposure necessary for the plates; but subsequent experience proved the data thus obtained to be of little value in the air-chamber. Various trials were then made in the air-chamber with different classes of plates and gradually increasing lighting-power; eventually, five arc-lamps—each equivalent to twelve hundred candles—and plates of exceptional rapidity, were employed; and these, with an exposure of two minutes, gave the best results obtained.

The roof and sides of the air-chamber were whitewashed, to render them conspicuous and to diffuse the light. The formation of moisture on the lens threatened at first to give trouble; but after a little time the glass became warmed, and the difficulty ceased. The haze in the air-chamber, which any sudden expansion of the air—such as that due to its escape when the air-locks were opened—greatly intensified, proved a formidable obstacle, and must always render the highest results unattainable. The only course was to seize the most favourable moment when the haze was at its minimum. White objects and light clothing gave the best results; whilst the eyes of a group—presumably from their glistening properties—are remarkable for definition and sharpness.

So far as could be ascertained, no injury resulted to the dry plates either from air-pressure or moisture.

AN OLD ‘CHUBB.’

Last night I found an old forgotten key
Deep in an unused drawer; and quick tears fell
As in my hand I took it tenderly—
For ah! I knew the story it would tell

Of a familiar door, a ‘vanished hand,’
A cheery ‘click’ by eager children heard—
‘Papa is home!’—Ah, little loyal band!
How oft your hearts grew sick with hope deferred

In the time after! for ‘Papa’ went forth
And came not back. Then dawned some darksome days:
The cottage home was sold; and we came north
To a gray city street, to flowerless ways.

On the bright steel, great spots of rust had grown—
‘It would not turn so easily as then’
(I thought), ‘and “Rosebank” is no more my own—
I have no claim to enter it again.

‘Maybe its door has now a different lock—
And oh, if even I could venture there,
What should I find? my misery to mock—
Ghosts of the dead—strangers’ careless stare.’

I took the key and laid it out of sight:
‘Since thou canst no more ope the door for me
Of that dear home, thou needst not see the light,
For only doors of tears are oped by thee.’

KATE.

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