Chapter I: Part 1

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART

Fifth Series

ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832

CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)

NO. 13.—VOL. I. SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 1884. PRICE 1½_d._]

INTERNATIONAL FORESTRY EXHIBITION, EDINBURGH, 1884.

In this age of International Exhibitions, which, when usefully directed, form what the newspapers pleasantly call ‘a wholesome mania,’ it is well to inquire into the causes, more or less urgent, which call these undertakings into being—the good they are expected by their promoters to effect not only to the towns or countries in which they are held, but to all the nationalities who take part in them; and the probable results of their success, if they are successful. It is of course open to objectors to deny the soundness of all these premises, and to question the logical deduction of their usefulness, in the case of all the projected Exhibitions which are brought under their notice. And when—as is almost necessarily the case—an appeal is made to the pockets of the public in the initiatory stage of the undertaking, objectors are not few in number, and not particularly partial, or even moderate, in the nature of their criticisms. Within due bounds, indeed, it is well that it should be so. Exhibitions got up mainly or entirely for the purpose of advertising any particular branch of trade, may be advantageous to that trade individually; but the end and object is not so much an harmonious and wholesome impetus to trade and manufacture generally, as a rivalry more or less rancorously conducted amongst the exhibitors.

The prospectus, classification, and other papers relating to the proposed Forestry Exhibition to be held in Edinburgh in the months of July, August, and September 1884 are now before the public; and it may be useful to inquire how the idea was suggested, and whether or not it is likely to be worked out with advantage to the community at large.

The primary cause which appears to have called forth the project has been no sudden or ephemeral one. To grasp it rightly, we must go back for at least a score of years, and carry our readers with us to the government of our Eastern Empire. There we shall find that a long course of unrestricted spoliation and waste had denuded the banks of rivers in proximity to the seaboard of all their protecting vegetation. The river-sources, far up in the inaccessible hills, had indeed been safe from the inroads of the timber merchants, and had been preserved from too rapid evaporation by the virgin forests which surrounded them. But in the low country the trees could be easily cut and floated down to the coast during the annual floods. A country deprived of its trees is doomed to drought; and India soon began to suffer from the reckless destruction of its forests. The officials of the government, while fully aware of the vast waste of capital and revenue going on under their eyes, were quite unable successfully to cope with it. They therefore delegated their duties to subordinates, who in many ways winked at, if they did not countenance the continuance of the evils which they were supposed to counteract and uproot. The absolute necessity of a higher-paid and more capable class of officials, whose duty should be confined to the conservancy and replanting of the forests, forced upon the government of India the formation of a Forest Department.

But when it was sought to construct this Department from the resources of Great Britain—the natural nursery for Anglo-Indian officials—these were found wholly inadequate; and more humiliating still, there was not even the means necessary to train efficient forest officers. It was decided by the government, and tacitly conceded by the public, that Great Britain could not supply finished cadets for the Forest Department of India. And from that day to this, young men with a smattering of botany have been packed off to the Forest seminaries of France and Germany for the peculiar education required.

It is not now our object to show how the government of India has suffered in the interval by the want of a proper system of forest training in Great Britain. Waste and spoliation went on, of course, uncontrolled. But we think that the _raison d’être_ of a Forestry Exhibition will now be tolerably apparent to at least the majority of our readers. Indeed, the wonder is that Great Britain has so long remained quiescent under the implied reproach of neglecting what is not only a useful but a profitable branch of estate management. This reproach, which had long weighed on the minds of all those who had the good of the country at heart, at length found public expression at the meetings of the principal Societies of Scotland who represent the landed interest of the country, and resolutions were passed pledging their members to the support of a Forestry Exhibition.

Meanwhile, the great success of the Fisheries Exhibition in London had induced the executive Committee there to try and achieve for other industries similar benefits to what they had conferred on the fishermen of England. And they, too, pitched upon forestry as a branch of science well worthy of encouragement. But when it was represented to them that the same idea, first mooted in Scotland, had already assumed practical shape there, they courteously gave way, and conceded to Scotland the well-deserved right of holding in her capital the first Forestry Exhibition of Great Britain.

Nearly all the foreign powers and the representatives of our colonial and Indian empire are to be found in the list of those who have joined the undertaking as members. And the following letter, which has been sent to our diplomatic representatives abroad, rightly expresses the consensus of official and public opinion on the merit of the undertaking:

(CIRCULAR-COMMERCIAL.)

FOREIGN OFFICE, _October 27, 1883._

The attention of Her Majesty’s government has been directed
to a project for an International Exhibition of Forestry to
be held in Edinburgh in the summer of 1884, the organisers of
which are desirous of securing the co-operation therein of
such foreign countries as the matter may concern. There is
reason to believe that the proposed Exhibition, for which the
necessary funds have been guaranteed, will be influentially and
ably supported. The object is one which in the opinion of Her
Majesty’s government deserves every encouragement, scientific
forestry having hitherto been much neglected in this country;
and I have therefore to request that you will bring the
Exhibition in question to the notice of the government to which
you are accredited, as being one in which their participation
might be attended with advantage to both countries. I inclose
for communication to the proper quarters copies of programme
and other documents connected with the proposed Exhibition,
which have been supplied by the Committee.

I am, with great truth, your most obedient humble servant,

_Signed_ (for Earl Granville)

EDMOND FITZMAURICE.

With this letter, we may fitly close the contemplation of the causes which have led to the idea of a Forestry Exhibition being held in Great Britain. They are, in fact, briefly summed up in the short but comprehensive dictum, which, we fear, cannot be contradicted or gainsayed, ‘scientific forestry having hitherto been much neglected in this country.’ And the inverse of this proposition leads us by no indirect steps to the consideration of the good results which may be expected to accrue from the Exhibition, if it is successfully conducted.

To the capital of Scotland, a country lying between the two great fields of the ‘lumbering’ interest of the world—the one in Northern Europe, and the other on the continent of America, the results, if only from the influx of visitors, whether these are scientifically disposed or otherwise, can hardly fail to be beneficial. But there are wider interests involved. The landed proprietor anxious to utilise his present wastes and to make up for deficient rents by profitable planting—the political economist inquiring into new sources of revenue—the botanist uncertain of the right names and uses of some of his specimens of timber or of flowers—the geologist, the sportsman, and the naturalist, will find here a common ground of instruction and amusement. For we may hope to see gathered together the forest products of the world, carefully examined and authentically named; the various descriptions of machines used in different countries for preparing timber for constructive purposes; the timber slips placed on the hills, the sluices, dams, and embankments formed on the rivers for the transporting of wood by land or by water; the mechanical appliances used for moving growing trees, and the saw-mills for cutting them into sections when felled. Here, too, will be exhibited the various textile fabrics manufactured from bark; materials for the making of paper; tanning and dyeing substances; drugs and spices; gums, resins, wood-oils and varnishes. Another section will embrace botanical specimens, fungi and lichens, forest entomology and natural history; with fossil plants and the various trees found in bogs.

The literature of the subject will be illustrated by the Reports of Forest schools, the working plans of plantations, which show the age of the various woods on an estate, and the stage of growth at which they may most profitably be thinned or felled. Remarkable or historical trees will be represented by paintings, photographs, and drawings; and there will be sketches of the usual forest operations.

Collections of forest produce, specially illustrating the sources of supply, and the methods of manufacture in different provinces, with accompanying Reports, are solicited by the Committee. And essays on all subjects touching on the value of growing trees or timber are invited to competition for prizes. Here, again, is opened a very wide field of useful inquiry for all those interested in the planting of woods in our own or foreign countries; for the cultivators of cinchona and other barks in our Crown colonies; for wood-engravers, whose supply of hard wood for the purposes of their trade is now very limited; for ship-builders, anxious to get a substitute for teak, or to obtain an increased supply of that most useful timber; and for all who use wood or forest produce in any of the many forms of manufacture in which they are applied.

We may not enter into any further categorical enumeration of the purposes and objects of the Forestry Exhibition of 1884; for, if the contemplation of the great cause which primarily led to the idea of the undertaking has brought us insensibly to the enumeration of the good that may be expected to accrue from its successful issue, it seems needless to insist that the probable results of that success will benefit the commercial interests and the scientific knowledge of the world at large. [Particulars of the Exhibition may be obtained from Mr George Cadell, secretary, 3 George IV. Bridge, Edinburgh.]

BY MEAD AND STREAM.

CHAPTER XX.—PAVED WITH GOLD.

It was not probable that Mr Hadleigh would object to his son being endowed with a fortune by a wealthy uncle, whatever might be his feelings towards the donor. He would no doubt have been ready with congratulations if the endowment had come from any other quarter. As the case stood, Philip anticipated some difficulty in reconciling him to the arrangement, unless he should succeed in making the two men forget and forgive that old feud. However, there would be time enough to consider these details after the consultation with the solicitors.

He found Mr Hawkins and Mr Jackson together in the senior partner’s room—a rare circumstance for any client to find them so, for acting separately, they might cancel or amend opinions after private conference without loss of prestige. On the present occasion Philip’s affairs had been the subject of discussion.

‘Let me offer you my best congratulations, sir,’ said Mr Hawkins, a thin, grave-looking old gentleman in speckless black broadcloth, and with gold-mounted glasses on his prominent nose.

‘Accept the same from me, Mr Hadleigh,’ interjected Jackson. He was a sharp gentleman of middle age, with small mutton-chop whiskers, and dressed in the latest City fashion—for there is a City fashion, designed apparently to combine the elegance of the west end with a suggestion of superhuman ‘cuteness.’

‘Thank you, both. I must be a lucky fellow when you say so.’

‘In the course of my experience,’ said Mr Hawkins solemnly, ‘I have never known a young man start in life under such favourable auspices. We wish you success, and we believe you will find it difficult to fail.’

‘It is wonderful what a fool can do,’ said Philip, laughing; ‘but I will try not to fail. At present, I am a little in the dark as to the terms of the proposed arrangement, and Mr Shield referred me to you for the particulars.’

‘The particulars are simple,’ the lawyer proceeded slowly, as he turned over a number of papers on which various notes were written. ‘In the first place, I have great—very great—pleasure in informing you that a sum of fifty thousand pounds has been paid into your credit at the Universal Bank; and a second sum of the same amount will be at your command whenever you may have occasion for it, provided Mr Shield is satisfied with the manner in which you have disposed of the first sum.’

‘This is scarcely the kind of arrangement I expected. I had a notion that it was to be a partnership,’ said Philip.

‘The arrangement is so simple and so complete, Mr Hadleigh, that you will have no difficulty in comprehending every detail presently.’ Mr Hawkins went on leisurely, as if he enjoyed prolonging the agreeable statement he had to make. Mr Jackson nodded his head at the close of every sentence, as if thereby indorsing it. ‘We have often read in story-books of rich uncles coming home to make all their friends comfortable. You have the exceptional experience of finding a rich uncle in reality—one who is resolved to pave your way with gold, as I may express it.’

‘But what does he want me to do with all this money?’ asked Philip, desirous of bringing the loquacious old gentleman to the point.

Mr Hawkins was not to be hurried. Like a connoisseur with a glass of rare wine, he was bent on making the most of it. Every symptom of eagerness on Philip’s part added zest to the palate; and he was graciously tolerant of his client’s impatience.

‘As regards the partnership, that will come afterwards. In the meantime, he desires you to consider this handsome fortune as absolutely at your own disposal. He imposes no conditions. You are free to give up all thought of profession or trade, and to live as you please on the income of this capital, or on the capital itself, if you are so inclined.’

‘That, of course, is nonsense. He must wish me to do something.’

‘Certainly; and although he imposes no conditions, he has expressed two wishes.’

‘And what are they?’

Mr Hawkins polished his eye-glasses and consulted his notes. Mr Jackson nodded his head pleasantly, as if he were saying: ‘Now it is coming, you lucky dog.’

‘The first is,’ Mr Hawkins went on, ‘that you should enter into commerce: the second is, that you should take time to consider well in what direction you will employ your capital and energy—time to travel, if you are inclined, before deciding. Then, when you have decided, he will find whatever capital you may require beyond that already at your command. But there is to be no deed of partnership. You are to be prepared to take the full responsibility of your own transactions.’

Philip was silent. It required time for the mind to grasp the full meaning of this proposal. That it was a magnificent one, he felt; indeed it was the magnificence of it which perplexed him. He was to be hoisted at once into a prominent position in the commercial world, although he was without experience of business, and was not conscious of possessing any special aptitude for it. His father knew him better than his uncle did, and had declared him unfitted for commercial pursuits.

He mentioned these objections to his uncle’s plan; but the lawyers only smiled at the idea of a man even thinking of such disqualifications as obstacles to his own immediate gain.

‘I have known many men who were slow enough to give away a fortune,’ said Mr Hawkins, emphasising his words by rubbing his bald head with the eye-glasses, as he gazed almost reproachfully at this singular young man; ‘but I never before met a person who was slow to accept one.’

‘I daresay; but this position is a little curious. You may set aside at once the project that I should take the money and do nothing for it. Mr Shield’s wish is sufficient to bind me to go into trade of some sort; but in doing so, I may make ducks and drakes of his gift in no time.’

‘My dear sir, money always makes money if it be guided with even moderate prudence; and I give you credit for possessing that quality to a sufficient degree.’

Philip bowed in acknowledgment of this good opinion.

‘Besides, Mr Shield does not mean that you should be set adrift without rudder or compass. He will be always ready to advise; and I need not say that you may always command our best attention. Also he would expect you to appoint some competent person as your manager, who would be capable of directing the course of your affairs.’

‘Ah—Wrentham would be the man, if we could only make it worth his while to join me.’

‘We have no doubt, from what we know of Mr Wrentham, that he would consider it much to his advantage to undertake any charge with which you may be disposed to intrust him.’

‘I must have time to think over it all,’ said Philip, whilst a thousand visions were dancing before his mind’s eye, like the dazzling spray of sparks struck from iron at white-heat by a blacksmith’s sledge-hammer.

‘Certainly, certainly. It is especially mentioned that you are to take whatever time you may require to settle how you shall proceed. Mr Shield is anxious to see you begin operations, but he has no desire to hurry you.’

‘I will write to him as soon as I see my way. I suppose this is all you have to tell me?’

‘There is only one other trifling matter. I hope we have made you clearly understand that Mr Shield does not insist upon anything. He merely expresses a wish.’

‘And I have told you how I regard his wishes—as fixed conditions of my being thought worthy of all this generosity.’

‘He is emphatic in desiring that you shall not regard them as conditions, but as mere indications of what he would be most pleased to see you do.’

‘Well, what is the remaining wish or condition? It is all the same what we call it.’

‘It is, that in the event of your entering into business, he would like you to remember how much more freely and independently a man may act when unshackled by domestic ties. In short, he would like you to remain a bachelor for the first two or three years, until you have firmly established your position.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Philip in a soft crescendo scale; whilst Mr Jackson nodded and grinned, as if there were a good joke somewhere. ‘I cannot promise that.’

‘No promise is required; and Mr Shield would not consider it binding if you made it.’

‘I am not likely to make it,’ was the reply, with a hesitating laugh; ‘but this may seriously affect my decision.’

Mr Hawkins was unable to conceive any possible decision except one, and was again gravely effusive in his congratulations. Mr Jackson, shaking hands with Philip at the door, expressed his unqualified approval of the whole scheme in one short phrase: ‘You _are_ a lucky dog.’

Philip was not sure whether he was a lucky dog or not. His uncle’s proposal was liberal and generous beyond all expectation; but there was something—he did not know what—about it that was perplexing. Probably, it was the fact that for the first time he was brought face to face with the necessity of deciding promptly in what course his whole future was to be directed. Hitherto there had been no hurry; and at the time when thoughts of Madge had brought him to serious consideration of how he could most rapidly win a position for her, the invitation from his uncle had arrived. The final decision was again postponed, as it was his duty to obey that call for his mother’s sake.

Now his future had been decided for him; and the prospect was in every way a tempting one. There would have been no hesitation on his part, but for the strange position which his father and Mr Shield occupied towards each other. The question Philip had first to settle with himself was, how he should act in order to bring about a reconciliation between them. He knew that if he could accomplish this, he would fulfil his mother’s dearest wish—an object nearer his heart than even the possession of a fortune.

As for business, although he had no special inclination for it, he did not dislike it. He had heard and read of millionaires—their struggles and victories, as desperate and as glorious as any recorded in the history of battlefields. Life and honour were as much at stake in doing the daily work of the world as in shooting down the foes of the nation or the foes of the nation’s policy. Our merchants, our inventors, our educators, our labourers, were the true soldiers, and their victories were the enduring ones. There was the great enemy of mankind, Poverty, with his attendant demons Ignorance and Laziness, still to conquer; and there were legions of starving people crying out to be led against him. Vast territories lay untilled, vast resources of earth, air, and water still unused, to be called forth to content and enrich the hungry and poor. What noble work there was for men to do who had sufficient capital at command!

He had never before speculated upon such a career. Now that it was presented to him, his imagination was stirred by thoughts of the great deeds that were yet to be done to bless humanity and ennoble life.

(_To be continued._)

SUAKIM.

The intense interest with which all eyes have been turned upon the Soudan—that is, Country of the Blacks, or Negroland—gives a special value now to any information about that region, particularly if it refer to such towns as Khartoum, or that named at the head of this paper. The former place has been pretty fully described of late in the newspapers, while little has been told us of the latter beyond actual war-news. This is the greater pity, as Suakim possesses a good deal of historical interest, and Khartoum does not.

Suakim—the word is spelt in a variety of ways—is not only one of the most important towns of Nubia, but the chief port of the Soudan and of the whole western coast of the Red Sea. It came into the possession of Egypt in 1865 by cession or purchase from Turkey—along with Massowah and one or two other towns and the districts around them—and now appears to be regarded by the British government and every one else as an integral part of the Egyptian dominions. Similar subjection of Suakim to Egypt, as we shall presently see, existed in very remote times. The town proper lies on a small island about eight miles and three-quarters in diameter—almost as long as the little bay in which it is placed, a mere tongue of water separating it from the mainland.

Crossing the inlet southwards to the mainland, we step into the large suburb called El Gêf, with a much larger population than the insular town, very irregular streets, and the houses mere native (Bishareen) huts. There is also a very lively bazaar, and, in the north-west of the place, the barracks, one section of which, a few years ago, was armed with three pieces of cannon. In the outskirts are the wells—surrounded by gardens and date plantations—which supply the people with drinking-water, although, from the nearness of the wells to the sea, this is brackish, and would scarcely be considered palatable by foreign troops. El Gêf is really an oasis; all round it, save seawards, extend many miles of salt and arid wilderness. Indeed, the whole distance from Suakim to Berber—two hundred and eighty miles inland—is for the most part desert, the route garnished here and there with wells of water and encampments of the wandering Bishareen, who, with the Haddendowa, a similar set of people, possess the whole wilderness from east of the first cataract of the Nile up to Kassala and the boundaries of Abyssinia. These tribes, though sometimes called Bedouin, whom in many respects they resemble, are really a very different people. Bedouin proper are Arabs of the Semitic, while the Bishareen are of the Hamitic family.

The chief articles of export are cotton, gum-arabic, cattle, hides, butter, tamarinds, senna leaves, and ivory. The imports consist of cotton goods, iron, wood, carpets, weapons, steel, and fancy wares. Berber in the east, and Kassala in the south, are the great centres for all the caravan traffic of Suakim, which is also the port on the one side for the whole Soudan—an inland country as large as India—and on the other side, for Arabia. Hence it is much visited by Mohammedan pilgrims to Mecca, their port of Jeddah occupying a corresponding position on the Arabian to that which Suakim does on the African coast. Twenty years ago, from three to four thousand slaves per annum were shipped from here to Jeddah, and though this monstrous traffic has been much crippled of late years by the Egyptian government, out of regard for English feeling, it is to be feared that it is not yet extinct. Oddly enough, Hassan Mousa Akad, one of the ringleaders in Arabi’s recent rebellion, and the greatest slave-merchant in Egypt, was exiled to this very slave-port of Suakim, hence his complicity in the Soudan disturbances is not unnaturally suspected. The total population of the town and suburb is estimated by Schweinfurth—one of our greatest authorities—at from eleven to thirteen thousand. The port is now in regular communication with Suez by steamer—four days’ journey—and with Europe by telegraph. The Egyptian governor (Mudeer) and vice-governor (Wakeel) live at Suakim, and the budget for the district in 1882 was—income, £25,945; expenditure, £20,492—thus being one of the few districts of the Soudan which yielded a surplus.

In ancient times, the whole of what we may call the Suakim seaboard—extending northwards along the coast as far as a line drawn from the first cataract, and southwards as far even as Bab-el-Mandeb—was known as the Troglodyte country. The Troglodytes, as the name implies, dwelt in caves, were by occupation herdsmen, and often uncivilised and wretched in the extreme. A graphic picture of the hard life of another Troglodyte people, dwelling in the rocky fastnesses east of Jordan, is preserved for us in the thirtieth chapter of the book of Job. ‘For want and famine,’ it says, ‘they are solitary; fleeing into the wilderness in former time desolate and waste. Who cut up mallows by the bushes, and juniper roots for their meat. They were driven forth of men (who cried after them as after a thief), to dwell in the cliffs of the valleys, in caves of the earth, and in the rocks.’

Perhaps the Troglodytes of the Nubian shore were a superior stock of their kind; at anyrate, they appear to have been impressed into the army of the ancient Pharaohs, and to have shared in the first invasion of the kingdom of Judah, and the first spoliation of Solomon’s Temple. The name of the Pharaoh of that time was Shishak, and two accounts of his expedition have come down to us: one is in the historical books of Scripture (2 Chronicles, xii., also 1 Kings, xiv.); and the other, remarkably enough, is by Shishak himself. That of the Egyptian king is contained in the famous hieroglyphic inscription on the walls of the temple of Karnak at Thebes, in Upper Egypt, a great part of which is still legible, after the lapse of nearly three thousand years! The book of Chronicles tells us with what an immense army of charioteers, cavalry, and infantry, Shishak overran Judea. He marched against it ‘with twelve hundred chariots, and threescore thousand horsemen: and the people were without number that came with him out of Egypt; the Lubims, the Sukkiims, and the Ethiopians.’ Of these three allies, the first are probably the Libyans (as in Daniel, xi. 43), and the last the same as the modern Abyssinians. For the middle name of ‘Sukkiims,’ the old Greek translation of the Bible—made by Jews a century or two before the birth of Christ—substitutes the word _Troglodytes_, the very people of the Nubian coast whom we have been considering, and who are now known as Bishareen. But yet more, Pliny the elder, an old Latin writer, who died A.D. 79, mentions, in his enumeration of places on this Troglodyte coast, a town called Suche, which, according to the general opinion of scholars, is identical with the modern port of Suakim, at present (while we write) governed by an English admiral, and its fortifications manned by British sailors and marines.

MISS MARRABLE’S ELOPEMENT.

IN TWO CHAPTERS—CHAPTER II.

Miss Marrable, who, when she received this love-letter, was sitting in her bedroom, was thunderstruck. At first, she thought of going to Amy and charging her with baseness and ingratitude; but after some reflection, she decided to let matters, for the time at least, take their course, and to confound the schemes of the rash couple by means of a grand stroke at the final moment. She went, however, at once to Lucy, in whom, as I have said, she had great confidence, and told her all.

‘How foolish of her,’ said Lucy.

‘Yes, my dear! how foolish, and how wicked!’ assented Miss Marrable. ‘I feel it my duty to prevent the carrying out of this mad plan, and also to make Amy suffer for her folly. I shall therefore send her this letter; and allow the hare-brained pair to mature their schemes.—And what, Lucy dear, do you think that I propose to do? You will never guess. Listen! Amy and I are of much the same height. I shall personate her by concealing—ahem—my face, and drive away with this vile young man; and then, when he believes that he has left me far behind, I shall overwhelm him with shame and confusion.’

Lucy could not help laughing. ‘That would really be good fun, aunt,’ she said. ‘Yes, send the letter to Amy; and by all means let matters take their course for the present.’

Miss Marrable did send the letter; and Amy duly received it, unsuspectingly; but five minutes later, Lucy revealed the whole plot to her, and threw her into the deepest trepidation.

Here, however, Lucy’s superior coolness came in most usefully. ‘You need not despair,’ said the elder cousin. ‘If aunt thinks of having fun with you and Mr Jellicoe, why not turn the tables, and have fun with her? You must find some other way of carrying on your correspondence; but at the same time answer this letter by the old medium. Your answer will of course fall into aunt’s hands. You must mislead her, and then’——

‘But,’ objected Amy, ‘how am I to make matters turn out properly?’

‘Listen!’ said Lucy. ‘Aunt proposes to personate you. Very well. Put off the time of your elopement, say, for half an hour; and meantime Mr Jellicoe must find some one to personate him. My idea is for aunt to elope with the billiard-marker, and so give you time to get away. Do you see?’

Amy could not at first grasp the significance of this bold proposition; but when she succeeded in doing so, she was delighted with it.

‘I shall tell Mr Rhodes,’ said Lucy, when she had sufficiently explained the plan; ‘for I know that he will gladly help you; and Mr Jellicoe can talk it all over with him and have the benefit of his advice.’

‘But what will aunt say when she discovers how we—how you—have deceived her?’ asked Amy.

‘Ah!’ said Lucy slily, ‘I must talk about that too with Mr Rhodes. But never fear!’ And she went off to rejoin Miss Marrable, who was still much flurried.

Later in the day, Lucy met Robert on the beach, and told him what had happened. ‘And now,’ she said in conclusion, ‘I am going to make a dreadful proposition to you. We must also elope together!’

‘I am sure I don’t mind,’ said Mr Rhodes. ‘After hearing your news, I was going to propose as much myself. It would take you out of the reach of your aunt’s reproaches, when she finds out the trick that has been played upon her.’

‘You are a dear old love!’ cried Lucy with enthusiasm. ‘I wouldn’t for the world have Amy made unhappy; and I feel that I must help her, although I don’t approve of elopements. Now go and talk to Mr Jellicoe; and don’t forget to have the licenses ready. Perhaps Mr Jellicoe can arrange for both Amy and me to sleep that night with the Joneses, whoever they may be; or perhaps, after all, we had better not go there, since aunt knows of that part of the scheme.’

‘I daresay,’ said Robert, ‘that I can arrange for both of you to sleep at the Browns at Llanyltid. They have a large house, and, curiously enough, my sister Dora, whom you have often met in town, is staying there with them; so you will have a companion and sympathiser. And now I will go and talk to Jellicoe.’

I need not follow in detail the progress of the new scheme of double elopement. Suffice it to say that the bogus correspondence destined to mislead Miss Marrable, was steadily kept up; that Amy and Vivian found other means of safely communicating with one another; that the Browns were written to; that the licenses were obtained; that three carriages-and-pairs were engaged, one to call at the hotel at nine o’clock P.M., and two at half-past; that coachmen were liberally feed; and finally, that the billiard-marker at the _Cors-y-Gedol_, a spruce young fellow of some education, was bribed, at considerable cost, to personate Vivian Jellicoe and to run away with Miss Marrable.

At length, Wednesday morning arrived; and with it came the last of the billet-doux that were to fall into the cunning spinster’s hands. One of them had been composed by Vivian and Robert, and written by the former on pink paper, folded billet-doux-wise. It ran as follows:

MY OWN AMY—I have satisfactorily arranged everything. The
carriage will be at the door of the hotel at nine o’clock. I
shall not show myself, for your aunt may be about. Be careful,
therefore, to avoid her; and enter the carriage as quickly as
possible. In order that there may be no mistake, I have told
the driver to wear a white choker round his neck. I hope that
you will be punctual. Everything depends upon punctuality. Till
nine o’clock, good-bye.—Your most devoted

VIVIAN.

Miss Marrable, after reading this note, refolded it as usual, and took care that it reached Amy. Then, with the consciousness that she was about to perpetrate a great and good action, she sat down in her own room, and waited for Amy’s reply to be brought to her by the treacherous maid. The note, which was very brief, came to Miss Marrable in less than half an hour. ‘DEAR VIV,’ wrote Amy, ‘I will be ready, and will look out for the white choker.—Your loving A.’

In spite of the ordeal which was before her, the good old spinster was perfectly calm and unflurried. At one o’clock she made a very hearty luncheon; at half-past two she took her nieces for a walk, and talked to them with extraordinary affability about the emancipation of women; and at half-past six she appeared at the _table d’hôte_, and, just as if the occasion were an ordinary one, complained of the soup being too peppery, the fish too cold, and the mutton too underdone. Her coolness was admirable. Lucy and Amy, on the other hand, could scarcely conceal their excitement and agitation. They each looked at least a hundred times during dinner at the clock upon the mantel-piece; and they each started and turned red whenever the noise of carriage-wheels without was heard. After dinner, Miss Marrable went again to her room and began to make her preparations.

‘How sad it will be,’ she thought to herself, ‘for poor young Jellicoe when I discover myself and overwhelm him with reproaches. Men are but poor creatures. Perhaps he will faint. Yes; I will take my salts-bottle.’ She wrapped herself in an ulster belonging to Amy, and having shrouded her face in a thick veil, took a seat at her window, which happened to be immediately above the front-door of the hotel.

Meantime, Edward Griffiths the billiard-marker was ill at ease. He knew Miss Marrable by sight, and looked forward with terror to the prospect of an encounter with her at close quarters. Nevertheless, he had Vivian Jellicoe’s five-pound note in his pocket, and he was determined to see the affair bravely through. He felt, however, that his natural bravery would not be sufficient to support him; and he therefore, at about six o’clock, began to swallow a succession of potent doses of whisky-and-water, with the object of laying in a stock of Dutch courage. Whether the whisky was bad or the water was too powerful, I cannot say; but at ten minutes to nine, when Vivian Jellicoe arrived to give final directions and counsel to his substitute, he found Edward Griffiths decidedly the worse for liquor. Fortunately the young fellow was neither quarrelsome nor noisy in his cups. His main ambition seemed to be to go to sleep in peace; and no sooner had Vivian bundled him into one corner of the carriage, which was in waiting in the stable-yard, than Mr Griffiths incontinently slumbered. The carriage was then driven round to the front-door of the hotel. Miss Marrable, from her post of vantage, saw it, and, remarking that the coachman wore a white choker, descended at once, and listened, as she went, outside Amy’s room, to satisfy herself that that young lady had not forestalled her. The porter with alacrity opened the carriage-door. In the dark shadows of the interior, Miss Marrable caught sight of the figure of a man; and making sure that all was right, she entered at once. An instant later she was being whirled northward along the lonely Harlech Road.

Half an hour afterwards, two other carriages left the hotel, but in the opposite direction. In one of them were Lucy and Mr Rhodes; and in the other, Amy and Mr Jellicoe. It was nearly midnight ere they arrived at the Browns’ house at Llanyltid; but the Browns were all up and waiting for them, and the two runaway couples were warmly welcomed, and hospitably taken care of.

Miss Marrable was less fortunate. As soon as the carriage in which she sat had been driven beyond the lights of the town, she threw aside her veil, and gazed with magnificent scorn towards the dim form upon the seat in front of her. The look eliciting no response of any kind, Miss Marrable ventured to cough, at first gently, and then with considerable violence; but still the figure took no notice.

‘This is exceedingly strange,’ thought the spinster lady. ‘I must adopt more active measures.’ And with great tenderness, she prodded Mr Griffiths with the point of her umbrella. The billiard-marker groaned in his sleep. ‘Mr Jellicoe!’ she exclaimed in her deepest and most threatening tones. She had counted upon this exclamation producing an instantaneous and astonishing effect upon her companion; and she was wofully disappointed when he merely groaned again.

‘Gracious!’ she said to herself: ‘he is ill. He would never go on like that, if he were not ill. The fright has been too much for him. Oh, how sorry I am! These men are such weak creatures. I must stop the carriage!’ And, throwing down the sash of the window, she put out her head and cried to the driver to pull up his horses. But the driver, like the billiard-marker, had been very liberally feed; and he was determined that nothing should stop him until he reached Harlech; he therefore cracked his whip, to drown Miss Marrable’s voice, and drove down the next hill at a pace which threatened to shake the carriage to pieces.

‘Stop, stop! For goodness’ sake, stop!’ shouted Miss Marrable; but finding that her words were not listened to, she drew in her head, and strove to revive the wretched man in front of her. She held her salts-bottle to his nose; she chafed his hands; she fanned his brow; and she allowed his feverish head to rest upon her shoulder; but she could not awaken him.

‘If he should die!’ she thought. ‘I intended to frighten him; but not so much as this. Oh! this is terrible!’ And once more she tried to prevail upon the driver to stop; but in vain. The sight of distant lights, however, gave her at length some satisfaction. The carriage entered a long avenue, the gate of which lay ready opened for it; and about an hour and a quarter after leaving Abermaw, it drew up before the Joneses’ house near Harlech.

With a sigh of relief, Miss Marrable threw open the door and sprang out, to find herself in the presence of half-a-dozen people who were congregated upon the steps.

‘Quick!’ she cried; ‘don’t ask questions! He is ill; he is dying. Take him out!’

The Joneses, who had not been prepared for the apparition of a middle-aged spinster, and who were expecting Mr Jellicoe and Miss Allerton, were somewhat astonished.

‘Who is inside?’ asked Mr Tom Jones, the son and heir of the family.

‘Oh! Mr Jellicoe! Be quick! For mercy’s sake, be quick!’

‘You don’t mean it!’ cried Tom, rushing to the carriage to succour his friend. But an instant later he burst into a violent fit of laughter. ‘Why, it’s not Jellicoe at all!’ he said. ‘It’s Griffiths, the billiard-marker from the _Cors-y-Gedol_; and he is hopelessly drunk. Nice companion, indeed!’

Miss Marrable is, as I have already said, a woman without weaknesses. On hearing this announcement, however, she fainted away. When, thanks to the kind attentions of the female members of the Joneses’ family, she revived, she indignantly charged those estimable people with having deliberately plotted her discomfiture; and she insisted upon at once returning to Abermaw; but the carriage (and Griffiths) had gone; so Mr Jones, senior, who grasped the situation, volunteered to drive Miss Marrable back to the _Cors-y-Gedol Hotel_; and by twelve o’clock, or shortly afterwards, she was again in her own room. It was then that she learned of the desertion of Lucy and Amy. I need not describe how she received the news, and how she declared that her abandoned nieces should never again behold her face; nor that, although she is a woman without weaknesses, she passed the greater part of the remainder of the night in violent hysterics. She telegraphed next day to Mr Larkspur and Mr Allerton; and repairing to the _Red Cow_, furiously denounced Sir Thomas Jellicoe as the basest and most heartless of men!

Three weeks afterwards, however, the edge of her anger had worn off. Lucy and Amy were married. It was foolish, but, perhaps, it was not wholly inexcusable; and thus reasoning, Miss Marrable, in the goodness of her heart, determined to gradually receive them back into her favour. But she has never wholly forgiven Lucy for suggesting the substitution of the billiard-marker for Vivian Jellicoe.

‘My dear,’ she says, when she retells the story of her drive to Harlech, ‘the wretched man was perfectly saturated with whisky, and I really don’t know what he might not have done if I hadn’t kept my eye steadily on him. But beneath my gaze he cowered, my dear, positively cowered! I never saw a savage brute so completely tamed.’

And to this day Miss Marrable believes that but for her Eye, the billiard-marker might—horrid thought!—have run away with her too.

A CURIOSITY IN JOURNALISM.

In the case of such a curiosity in official journalism as the _Police Gazette_, formerly known as the _Hue and Cry_, the public will be interested to learn a little more than the newspapers have briefly announced about the changes made in it by government authority. The paper itself, which was commenced shortly after the formation of the metropolitan police force in 1828, is not allowed to circulate beyond constabulary circles; but its efficiency of management unquestionably concerns the general community. Previous to the year 1828, the metropolis, like other centres of population, was under the care of the old parochial Watch, who, as corrupt as they were feeble, became an absolute street nuisance. Far from being a terror to evil-doers, their notorious negligence and inefficiency enabled the midnight burglar or daring footpad to pursue his criminal avocation with comparative impunity. Peel’s Act introduced a greatly improved _régime_; and the new police, nicknamed after their originator, were for a long time popularly known as ‘Peelers.’ The newly established force required new methods of working, and one of these was the starting of an official newspaper which, though it is perhaps the only one the public never see, has nevertheless often done them good service, and is now to be made of still more value.

It is probably known to few that there exists in connection with the Detective department at Scotland Yard a regular printing establishment, from which sheets are issued four times a day containing information as to persons ‘wanted,’ current offences, property stolen, lost, or found. A daily list of property stolen is also printed, and distributed to all licensed pawnbrokers. Particulars received from country constabulary forces are inserted in these publications, which are carefully read at parades and studied by the detectives. This, however, only applies to the metropolis; and a strong desire has long prevailed at headquarters to make that larger medium of publicity, the _Police Gazette_, more useful as a means of intercommunication between the whole of the two hundred and ninety police forces of the kingdom. Until the beginning of the present year, that wretched print had shown scarcely any progress or improvement since it was commenced. Its direction has hitherto been nominally in the hands of the chief clerk at Bow Street police court. In the past, much of its space has been wasted by the frequent repetition of details as to trifling cases; and no systematic arrangements were made for the widespread circulation of the paper among those for whom it is specially intended. The editorship has now been committed to Mr Howard Vincent, director of criminal investigations, who will be assisted by Chief-inspector Cutbush of the executive department at Scotland Yard. It is to the initiation of Mr Vincent that the improvements now made are chiefly due; and it may be remembered that in his presidential address to the Repression of Crime Section of the recent Social Congress at Huddersfield, that gentleman explained his intentions. The proposals he made were so favourably received, that subscriptions amounting to nearly one thousand pounds were placed at his disposal. These, however, have not been needed, as it happens that the improvements have been accompanied by an actual reduction of expense; and the Home Secretary has determined that the costs, limited within a certain moderate sum, shall still be borne entirely by the public funds.

In addition to being much better printed, the new _Gazette_ already shows decided improvement both in the selection and arrangement of its contents. For convenient reference, particulars are not only grouped according to the usual categories of crime, but are now classified under special headings for the various districts to which cases belong. Illustrations have also been introduced as a new feature. These take the form of woodcuts from photographs of persons ‘wanted’ on various charges, or of valuable articles stolen. The first number of the _Gazette_ contains the likeness of several criminals of whom the authorities are in pursuit. In one instance, so as to aid identification, the subject is shown not only with beard and moustache, but also as he would appear when clean shaved. Some of these faces, it is true, seem decent and commonplace enough, such as one sees almost every hour of the day in the public streets; but others, ‘an index of all villainy,’ are unmistakably those of dangerous characters whom none of us would like to meet alone in a quiet road on a dark night. But it is in the police album[1] that we can best study the variety of expression by which the human countenance can betray every shade of criminal depravity.

Meantime our business is only with the _Gazette_, which, among other changes, has altered its days of publication. Hitherto it has been issued three times every week; but now that the space is more carefully utilised, twice a week is found sufficient. The War Office and Admiralty have always had the privilege of inserting in its pages a list and description of deserters from the army and navy. In future, the Tuesday’s issue will be entirely devoted to these matters; and when it is known that last year the total number of deserters was only one short of six thousand, it may be inferred that the weekly list does not leave much space to spare in a small four-page paper. The Friday’s issue extends to eight pages, and is reserved exclusively for police information, with the exception of two pages now set apart by contract for advertising purposes. As far as increased circulation is concerned, arrangements have been made to send supplies of the _Gazette_ not only to every police force in the United Kingdom, but also, through the government offices, to the guardians of the peace in the British colonies and India. From the public generally, the _Gazette_ is withheld.

The early issues of the _Gazette_, especially between 1829 and 1831, bear significant testimony to the labour disturbances and political excitement which immediately preceded the passing of the great Reform Bill. Every number was then largely occupied with royal proclamations in the cause of order, and offers in Lord Melbourne’s name of government rewards for the arrest of incendiaries and disturbers of the public peace. Again we are on the eve of parliamentary reform, but without any symptoms of rioting; and the improved columns of the _Hue and Cry_ are now left more free for ordinary police information as to the appearance and lawless doings of the ‘incorrigible’ class.

[1] For an account of this interesting repository of crime, see ‘The National Album’ in _Chambers’s Journal_ for October 18, 1879.

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS.

From the Report issued by the Committee appointed to consider the best way of rebuilding the houses at Casamicciola destroyed in the recent earthquake, we learn that that terrible catastrophe occasioned the deaths of no fewer than two thousand three hundred and thirteen persons, and injury to seven hundred and sixty-two more. Although these unfortunates did not all actually belong to the island, there were among them only fifty-four who could be called foreigners. It will probably be found advisable to rebuild the ruined habitations on the pattern adopted in certain places of Central America, where earthquakes are common. The houses there are built of such light materials, that when a shock comes, they rattle down like a veritable house of cards, and can almost be rattled together again as easily when the danger has for the time passed. In London and some other of our cities and towns, the houses are so shamefully run up that a very mild shock of earthquake would suffice to shake them to pieces.

We are apt to look upon these jerry-built houses as the result of competition and the continual cry for cheap houses. On the other hand, we regard our cathedrals as solid monuments to the more honest work of former times. But this notion must be dispelled. The Peterborough Cathedral architect has been examining the foundations and piers of the tower of that fabric, which it will be remembered he some time ago reported to be in a dangerous condition, and they turn out to be as perfect an example of jerry-building as could be found in our own enlightened times. The piers were found to consist of a thin facing of stone, the interior being filled in with small rubble-stone and sandy earth. He tells us that ‘it is impossible to conceive a worse piece of construction, and it is equally impossible to understand how it is that these piers have stood so long.’ The piers have simply been enabled to hold together by the strength of their exterior clothing. It is some small satisfaction to the modern householder that dishonest building has not been invented for his especial torment, but was practised as long ago as the fourteenth century.