Chapter II: Part 2

It was always my conviction that a Briton ought never to go abroad to seek beautiful scenery until he had travelled all over his own country, and accordingly in early manhood I made a series of walking tours until I had seen every variety of English, Welsh, Scotch, and Irish scenery. It was in the course of one of these tours that I came across the pretty little village of Ferneville. Hills softly undulating and beautifully wooded surrounded the place; while two large ponds and numerous brooks supplied fishing enough to satisfy the wants of even an ardent angler like myself. The village was one of those little places where the population seems never to increase and the trade of the builder to be unknown. Visited by few strangers, this secluded village was just the kind of place for a traveller to rest himself and recruit. Here, then, I resolved to take my ease until such time as I felt disposed to resume my journey. The village inn afforded comfortable quarters, and here I ensconced myself, filling up part of my time in posting up my diary and writing to relatives and friends, matters which I had very much neglected. Much of my time was spent, too, in taking long rambles into the country and exploring the district for miles round; often, too, I took my fishing tackle with me, and seldom returned empty handed.

One day, when I was about setting off on one of these rambles, a young fellow arrived at the inn, having had apparently a pretty long walk. He had started, he said, early that morning from the town of B——, purposing to reach C—— in the afternoon; but having taken what he understood to be a short-cut, he had lost his bearings—a thing people often do when they take ‘short-cuts’—and now found himself some twelve miles from his destination. From what he said, however, I found that it was not really necessary for him to be in C—— before the next day; and as he seemed an agreeable and companionable gentleman, I suggested that he should keep me company for the rest of the day, sleep at the inn that night, and resume his journey next morning. This he agreed to do; and my bedroom having two beds, it was arranged that he should share it with me.

Half an hour’s conversation with my new acquaintance confirmed my good opinion of his sociable qualities, and I congratulated myself upon the agreeable companionship I had secured for the better part of a day. We dined together, and then set out for a stroll, returning in time for supper, well pleased with each other’s society; at all events, I was charmed with my companion, his light-heartedness and extreme vivacity coming as a refreshing and an agreeable change after the rather dull company of the few villagers whose acquaintance I had cultivated. A chat and a pipe followed supper, and then, in good spirits, we retired for the night.

As was usual with me, I was soon lost in slumber; but after being asleep for what seemed a considerable time, I found myself awake and dimly conscious of some one moving about the room. The day was beginning to break, and sufficient light penetrated through the window-blind to render objects in the room dimly visible. My ideas were at first hazy, and no recollection of my companion crossed my mind; hence I concluded that I was alone in the room with this burglar, as I took him to be, and I resolved to watch him quietly. His back was towards me; but he turned suddenly, and as the feeble light from the window fell across his face, I recognised my companion of the previous day. His expression was wild and savage, and in his right hand he held a large, long knife, with which from time to time he struck fiercely at the empty air, muttering rapidly words of which I could not catch the import! I am not a timid man, but I must confess that a kind of sickly feeling came over me as it flashed across me that I was alone with a lunatic, and that, too, at a time when, the rest of the household being asleep, the chance of any help was very remote. To be alone in bed at night while an armed burglar is prowling about the room, is bad enough; but when, in place of the burglar, you have a madman, the case is infinitely worse; an attack might be made at any moment, and without the least provocation.

My mind reviewed rapidly the incidents of the previous day. I had noticed nothing in my companion’s demeanour which would lead any one to suppose he was insane. True, I had been struck with his vivacity, and rather astonished at the rapidity with which he would pass from one topic to another; but this had simply pleased me as a trait of originality. Through my half-opened eyes and by the increasing light, I now saw him suddenly pause in his movements, bend forward, and gaze half eagerly, half hesitatingly in my direction. My heart nearly ceased to beat. Would he come forward? He advanced quickly a couple of steps, his face lighted up with a fiendish anticipatory pleasure; then he stopped for a moment. Should I spring from the bed and rush upon him? There was still about half the length of the room between us. No; the distance was too great for me to take him by surprise. He again came quickly forward, stood for a moment by my bedside, and then, with a savage scowl, the knife was thrown back to strike. But before it could descend, I had darted from the bed and was upon him, my left hand grasping his right wrist. ‘Madman!’ I hissed, as I forced him backwards, ‘drop the knife!’ In another moment we had fallen heavily, he undermost. His leg had caught against his own bed, and my weight had forced him backwards. In falling, his head struck against a piece of furniture with sufficient force to stun him. I took advantage of this to possess myself of the knife, which I had scarcely done when he opened his eyes. I planted myself firmly, expecting that he would renew the struggle; but, to my surprise, he burst into a laugh, and at length exclaimed: ‘Well, I have made a fool of myself, I must admit. I am no more mad than you are; and I am sure I have no designs against your life, however suspicious things may appear. Loose me, and I will explain all, although I know that in doing so I shall lay myself open to your ridicule.’

The laughter was so hearty and the tone so genuine, that I complied; besides, I had the knife if the worst came to the worst.

‘The fact is,’ he commenced, ‘I am stage-struck (don’t laugh at me more than you can help). I wanted to go on the stage, but to this my father strongly objected. The craze was, however, too strong upon me to allow of my quietly giving up the idea, and at last the opportunity of realising my ambition presented itself. Near our town is a small place where there is a little theatre—a poor affair, and visited only by third or fourth rate companies. Well, I made acquaintance with a party of travelling players there, and one of their number having left them, it was arranged that I should take his place at the next town they visited. I was walking on there, when, getting rather out of my course, as you know, I met you. I had expected being alone last evening and going over my part in private; but, of course, your being with me stopped that. I woke very early this morning, and being full of anxiety to make sure of my part, and imagining you to be fast asleep—as I believe _now_ you really were at first—I could not resist the temptation of trying a rehearsal _sotto voce_. In the play, I have to murder my rival in his sleep; and your lying there in bed gave such a realistic air to the thing, that I could not resist going through my part of the play with you as the rival, seeing you were, as I thought, safe asleep. Judge, then, of my feelings when, without a moment’s warning, you suddenly sprang upon me! Surprised and confused, I knew not for the moment what to do; but before I could collect myself, I had stumbled and fallen; and I suppose I must have been stunned, for I remember nothing more until I found myself on the floor, with you kneeling upon my chest, and looking quite prepared for a deadly struggle.—Now, you know all, and I hope you are none the worse off for the little adventure than I am?’

My answer was that I was only too glad the affair had terminated in so peaceable a manner, and that my sleeping companion, instead of being a lunatic, was only afflicted with a mania for the stage. I added, that I hoped the incident might cure him of the craze. And so it did. My companion did not appear on the professional stage, though I have often seen him to advantage in private theatricals, and have frequently watched him rehearse, but never with the same uncomfortable feelings as I did that night at the village inn.

SOME ASPECTS OF CANADIAN PROGRESS.

For those who cannot actually travel over the Canadian Pacific Railway from Montreal to Vancouver, in British Columbia, perhaps the next best thing is to look through the eyes of the _Times_ correspondent, whose ‘Canadian Tour’ has just been reprinted from the columns of that journal. Progress in the North-west is so rapid, that even this journey, performed quite recently, will soon grow antiquated; but many of the particulars are so full of interest for all who are concerned in the progress of the Canadian Dominion, that we make no apology in gleaning the most important facts therefrom, and from other sources, for the general reader.

The completion of the Canadian Pacific Railway has been the signal for embarkation in other comprehensive designs for opening up and furthering the interests of the Dominion. The Hudson Bay Railway, running from the heart of Manitoba to Port Nelson, on Hudson Bay, is proceeding apace, and will open up a region hitherto almost shut out from communication with commercial centres, besides giving an opportunity of testing the feasibility of the proposed short sea-route from Canada to Liverpool. This route by way of Hudson Bay, which will save about one thousand miles as compared with the Quebec route, has been reported upon by officials on behalf of the Canadian government, and the various reports agree that it will be navigable for four months of the year at least.

In the last session of the Canadian Parliament, an Act of Incorporation was passed on behalf of a new railway scheme to be called the Winnipeg and North Pacific Railway. Starting from Winnipeg, it has been planned to run in a north-westerly direction, bending to the west, and to strike the Pacific Ocean at Port Simpson, a point which is said to be four hundred miles nearer Yokohama than Vancouver, the present terminus of the Canadian Pacific. The country to be passed through is highly fertile, with great mineral wealth; and it is expected that this saving in distance will tell in its favour.

Meantime, the trade arrangements of the Canadian Pacific seem to meet with growing favour. Mr Everett Frazar, who has been concerned in more than one shipment of tea from China and Japan by this new route, reports that tea-importers in Canada and the United States are more than pleased with the quick despatch given to their orders, and the excellent condition in which consignments have reached them. One result has been that Chicago is rapidly overtaking New York as a tea-distributing centre. Yokohama being about five hundred miles nearer the western terminus of the Canadian Pacific than to San Francisco, two or three days can be saved by the Dominion route. The total tea imports for the season by the seven vessels already chartered are reckoned at 7,878,033 pounds, of the value of half a million pounds sterling. Suitable docks and wharfage have been prepared at Vancouver for the growing trade, and a fine three-story stone and brick hotel, which will be open for guests in the spring, is being erected.

The main characteristics of the line are thus described by the _Times_ correspondent. The first three hundred and fifty miles, carrying the line westward from Montreal to Lake Nipissing, is through old and well-developed country, commanding the timber traffic of the Ottawa River valley. For the next one thousand miles to the edge of the great prairie east of Winnipeg, the country passed through has extensive forests, and lands abounding in copper, iron, and silver. For nine hundred miles westward of Winnipeg there is a flat or rolling prairie, which is being rapidly settled, and which comprises some of the richest agricultural soil in the world. Nearly the entire length of the land-grant of the railway is already located here. This rich soil extends to the base of the Rockies. The railway now passes over a rough country, through mountain ranges, with immense forests, and splendid scenery. The best materials have been used in its construction throughout; the bridges and trestles are built in the strongest possible way; and the arrangements for traffic are efficient. The manager of the line told the _Times_ correspondent that he could at present undertake to transport eight thousand armed men a day from the Atlantic to the Pacific, should any Eastern complication render this necessary.

The distance from the eastern terminus at Montreal to the western end at Vancouver is two thousand nine hundred and nine miles, or three hundred and sixty-two miles less than the line between New York and San Francisco. From Liverpool to Vancouver by the Canadian Pacific route is five thousand one hundred and sixty miles. Across the Pacific Ocean to Yokohama, by the Canadian route from Liverpool, is nine thousand five hundred and forty-six miles, or eight hundred and eighty miles less than by the New York and San Francisco route. The traveller may choose the all-rail route westward, round the northern shore of Lake Superior, or by way of Owen Sound and Lake Superior, in the new steel steam-ships, the _Alberta_ or _Athabasca_.

No city in Canada has grown with greater rapidity than Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, which has now from twenty-seven to thirty thousand inhabitants, and no part of the country owes more for its development to the railway than the Red River Valley. Butter, cheese, vegetables, fruit, and grain, are now exported in large quantities. To further open up the prairie region, an elaborate network of branch railways has been arranged for, and town-lots have been laid off in connection therewith. The Manitoba and North-western Railway runs north-west from Portage La Prairie towards Prince Albert.

Regina, the capital of the North-west, stands on Pile of Bones River, a tributary of the Qu’Appelle River, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine miles west of Montreal. This place, of three hundred houses and not more than one thousand people, is the residence of the Governor of the North-west. Our correspondent likens the present appearance of the place to a section cut out of the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, with a few scattered rows of wooden houses set down upon it. In a little square-built brick courthouse, outside the town, Louis Riel, leader of the late rebellion in the North-west, was tried, and afterwards hanged at the barracks, about two miles off. Here are the headquarters of the mounted police, the constabulary of the North-west, the entire force consisting of about one thousand men.

There are few places of any importance westward of Regina; the villages and settlements are as yet in their infancy, and we hear such grotesque names as ‘Moose Jaw,’ ‘Swift Current,’ and ‘Medicine Hat.’ The large cattle ranges of Canada are situated in the south-western portion of the province of Alberta, Fort MacLeod and Calgary being two great centres for the ranchemen. Experienced cattle-men have pronounced the eastern slope of the Rockies as furnishing the best grass and water for large herds, in Western America. The winter there is less rigorous than in Manitoba and the older provinces. When the Canadian Pacific reaches Calgary, it runs along the valley of the Bow River, and crosses the summit of the Rockies at an elevation of five thousand five hundred and sixty feet.

At Donald, past which the Columbia River flows with a swift current, house-building is going on for the settlers, who at first had to live in tents and cabins. This place is destined to be an extensive settlement, with railway repair shops. The surface is covered with forests, except where clearings have been made. On leaving the Columbia, the railway turns sharply to the south, into the cañon of the Beaver River, a stream which rises from the centre of the Selkirk Range. As the railway rises, all the slopes of the mountains are seen clad with timber, and sawmills are busy. Trestle-bridges span the gaps made by tributary streams, and one of these is two hundred and ninety-six feet high, and four hundred and fifty feet long. The great mountain ranges of the Selkirk passed, the Gold or Coast Range comes next, where the traveller finds himself amongst the better-settled districts of British Columbia.

Kamloops, a place of fifteen years’ growth, at the junction of the North and South Thompson Rivers, is a prosperous town, with English residents living in the centre, and the Chinese at either end. Burrard Inlet lies to the north of the Fraser River, and here, at Port Moody, the finished line ends at present. But an extension to Vancouver, at the sea-entrance of Burrard Inlet, is being made, and will be finished next year. There are several settlements on the banks of the Inlet, where timber-mills are at work. One place is an Indian mission settlement, and has three hundred inhabitants.

Vancouver, the western terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway, has a very hopeful outlook at present. Being a wooden town, it was almost entirely burned in June 1886, but is now recovering from that serious fire. Streets are laid out, a substantial wharf has been built, and the trade in town-lots is described as brisk. Much of the cleared surface of the town is covered with stumps of the ‘big trees,’ spruce, pine, or cedar, which grew there; it costs from one hundred to one hundred and fifty pounds per acre to clear the ground of these stumps. One large pine, standing solitary in the town, was saved on the intercession of the Princess Louise, and has been rightly named after her. The Vancouver chief of police is a gigantic Highlandman, with a force of five men under him. Wood-cutting is the chief industry of this section, and Vancouver as a terminal city has great commercial possibilities.

In conclusion, the _Times_ correspondent does not hesitate to confirm the statement, that the Canadian Pacific Railway has ‘more good agricultural land, more coal, and more timber, between Winnipeg and the Pacific coast, than all the other Pacific railways combined, and that every part of the line from Montreal to the Pacific will pay.’

WAS IT MURDER?

I have thought it over and over, and cannot come to any definite conclusion. Was I justified in killing the man? If I was, I am a benefactor to some of my fellow-creatures; if I was not, I am a murderer. My readers shall have an opportunity of judging, and I hope their judgment may be lenient.

Some years ago, I was well off, and received the education and bringing-up of a gentleman; but partly through my own folly, and partly through unfortunate speculations, I gradually lost all my capital; and about two years ago I found myself penniless, and saw starvation grinning at me within measurable distance. Then I determined to attempt no longer to keep up appearances, but to try and earn a bare existence in any walk of life that was open to me. After some fruitless efforts and a good deal of the ‘hope deferred’ which ‘maketh the heart sick,’ I obtained, through the kindness of a gentleman connected with the Great Junction Railway, the position of stoker. I never was given to drink, so that I was well enough able to fulfil the lowly duties of my position. I am now a station-master; and it is during my few hours of leisure that I prepare this plain narrative for the decision of a discerning public.

It is a great point for a stoker to be on good terms with the engine-driver, and I generally found little trouble in making friends with my nearest travelling companion.

On the day when I went through the most disagreeable experience of my life, I was travelling from Padlington to Cowchester on the well-known—to railway employees—engine named ‘Pluto.’ She is a fine upstanding, bold sort of engine, and when in good temper, does her work right well. The engine-driver on this occasion was a man named John Morgan. I had not often travelled with him before, only two or three times, and I never could get on comfortably with him. He had been many years in the Company’s service, and bore an excellent character for steadiness, but was considered rather taciturn. He seemed to be always in the sulks, and was, I suppose, of a surly temper. Before we started, he hardly answered any remark I addressed to him, and seemed more surly than usual. Once when I took up a cloth to brighten one of Pluto’s taps, he called out to me in a savage tone: ‘Let her alone, can’t you. I’ll make her travel to-day without your bothering.’

I made him no answer, as I did not see the good of having a quarrel in the small space we were confined to. The train was to start at twelve noon, and before that time, we on the engine were all ready; but it was a quarter past twelve before we got the signal to move. There was such a crowd of people of all classes on the platform, that room could hardly be found for them in the train. However, at last the head-guard gave us the signal, and Morgan turned the handle, and we moved slowly and steadily out of the station. When we got well out into the country, Morgan turned to me and said shortly: ‘More coal.’

Now, in my opinion, no more coal was wanted, as there was quite enough in the fire to keep up the usual speed. However, as a stoker, I was only an underling, and must obey reasonable orders. So I stoked as bidden, and then curiously watched to see if the engine-driver would turn on full speed. He did nothing of the sort, but sat with his back to the boiler, and began to talk to me quite affably. Amongst other things, he said he was quite tired of this perpetual travelling, and that he meant to look out for a wife with a little money, and never set foot on an engine again. There was nothing at this time peculiar in his manner, except that he was more talkative than usual, and he would now and then turn half-round to the engine and call out: ‘Get on, old girl, get on!’ We had before us a run of an hour and a half, and by that time we were due at Blinton, a big junction, at which every train must stop; so we had plenty of time to talk.

About an hour after leaving Padlington, Morgan stopped suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and said: ‘Well, I must get to work now.’ Then he opened the firebox door and called out to me: ‘More coal.’

I expostulated with him, and pointed out that we were going at a high rate of speed, and would not need more coal before Blinton; but this seemed to excite him terribly. ‘Shovel it in!’ he roared, with an oath; ‘I’m going to make her travel.’

To pacify him, I took up a shovelful, and managed to upset a good deal of it before I reached the firebox.

‘You clumsy fool!’ he called out; ‘here, give it to me;’ and snatching the shovel out of my hands, he crammed on as much coal as he could get in.

I was beginning to get alarmed; and looking out over the well-known country—for I had travelled that journey many and many a time before—I saw that we were much nearer to Blinton than we ought to be at that hour. However, I thought it did not much matter, for the line was signalled clear in front of us, and the damage done was, as yet, simply a little waste of coal. In a few minutes, our speed increased enormously, and I calculated we were travelling at the rate of seventy miles an hour. I thought it was time to remonstrate; and turning to Morgan, I noticed that the indicator showed full speed. I called his attention to the fact, and begged him to reduce the speed, or we should run into Blinton without being able to stop.

‘Ha, ha!’ he cried in reply. ‘Stop! I’m never going to stop again! I told you I’d make her travel. What do you want to stop for?—Get on, old wench, get on!’ Then he burst into a hideous peal of laughter.

A cold sweat of absolute terror broke out on me as I realised the state of things. Here was a raving maniac, a far stronger man than myself, in charge of a train full of people. I bit my lips and clenched my hands, and tried to collect my scattered ideas and decide what was best to be done. Meanwhile, Morgan sat on a rail near the boiler flourishing a shovel and shouting uproariously. The train rushed on with incredible speed, not steadily and evenly, but with leaps and bounds, that threatened to cast the engine off the line at every yard. There was no doubt the man was as mad as a man could be, and he was also master of the situation. I made one effort to reach the handle by which the steam is turned off; but the madman was too sharp for me. ‘No, you don’t!’ he shouted. He brought his shovel down with a tremendous blow on the rail at my side, just missing my head. It was plain I could do nothing by force. Would stratagem be of any use?

I looked out to the country; time was running short; we were not more than twenty miles from Blinton Junction; and if we did not stop there, the whole train must inevitably be wrecked, and probably not one passenger would escape uninjured, and but few with their lives. I looked back to the train. Outside the windows were hands gesticulating, and frightened, alarmed faces. At the end of the train, the guard was waving a red flag. Something must be done, and by me, or we should all be inevitably lost. I made up my mind. I turned to Morgan with a smile on my face, and I said: ‘Old boy, you’re quite right; this is a fine pace; but it ain’t quite fast enough. Look here!’ and I caught him by the arm and led him to the side of the engine next to the double rail. ‘See!’ I cried; ‘there is another train coming up faster than us, and she will pass us; we must go faster: but let’s see first who is driving her; lean forward and look. Can you see?’

The poor maniac stepped outside the rail and leaned forward to look for the imaginary train, when I gave him a sudden push, and he fell in a heap on the side-rails and was killed on the spot. With a gasp of relief I sprang back to the engine and turned off the steam. It was not a moment too soon. We were well in sight of Blinton Junction before I had the train properly under control. I pulled up at the platform all right, and then I fainted.

When I came to, I was lying on a bench in the waiting-room, and the inspector was standing over me, with his note-book in his hand, prepared to take down my statement. What I stated was, that the engine-driver had gone mad, and that, to save the lives of the passengers, I had knocked him off the engine just in time to get the train under control before running into the station. This was corroborated by the guard and several passengers; and the case was brought before the solicitors of the Company. I gave my evidence at the inquest, and heard no more of the matter until one day the passenger superintendent handed me ten sovereigns and a letter appointing me station-master at Little Mudford. It was evident the directors condoned my conduct; and I hope that my readers will agree with them, and, in consideration of my having saved a train full of people, will acquit me of murder, and bring in a verdict of justifiable homicide.

POPULAR LEGAL FALLACIES.[1]

BY AN EXPERIENCED PRACTITIONER.

_DEEDS OF GIFT AND WILLS.—II._

The making of a will is a much less formidable affair than the preparation of a deed of gift. It requires no stamp; the rights of the beneficiaries do not arise until the decease of the testator, and therefore it does not in any way interfere with his power to manage and dispose of his property as he thinks best in the interval during which he retains physical and mental power to make a new will. In a case of extreme simplicity, the testator may even dispense with professional assistance altogether; but this is seldom advisable. As, however, some testators _will_ make their own wills, it may be useful, while adverting to the danger of that practice, to point out how the risk may be lessened. It is always dangerous to use technical expressions—such as ‘heirs,’ &c.—because a gift to the heirs of a testator has the effect of cutting out the younger children in the same way and to the same extent as if he had died intestate. In some cases, it may even be worse than intestacy, depriving them of their shares of their father’s personal estate. The intentions of the testator ought to have the simplest form of expression possible applied to their setting forth in the will. The names of the children who are to benefit ought in most cases to be inserted, this having certain legal advantages in case of death over the description of the children as a class. When property is given to a child of the testator who dies before his father, the gift takes effect as if he had survived his father and then died; while in all other cases, if the beneficiary should die in the lifetime of the testator, the devise or bequest in his favour lapses, or becomes altogether void. Of course this might in any case be provided against by express directions that in case of the death of the beneficiary, the benefit intended for him should go to his children; but such provisions are to some extent inconsistent with that simplicity which is essential in home-made wills.

Other points requiring special attention in some cases are that the subsequent marriage of the parents does not (in England) render bastards legitimate, or capable of taking under the description of ‘children’ of the testator; and that the marriage of a man with the sister of his deceased wife, or of a woman with the brother of her deceased husband, is absolutely void, and the children of such void marriage are illegitimate. In such cases, the difficulty may be overcome by the use of appropriate words and full and clear descriptions of the persons who are to be included in the will. In many home-made wills, the distinction between the effect of the two disposing words ‘devise’ and ‘bequeath’ appears to have been unknown. Now, there is a real distinction here, the former word applying to real estate (land), and the latter to personal estate (money, furniture, &c.); and in cases within our own knowledge, the use of a word which was not appropriate to one class of property, without any sufficient description of what was intended to pass by the will, has occasioned a partial intestacy, and to that extent has defeated the intentions of the testator. The word ‘give’ is always sufficient, and has the advantage of being safe. A common mistake is the omission of the appointment of executors; and an equal impropriety is the appointment of a tenant for life as sole executor. When everything which the testator possesses is given absolutely to one person, that person may well be appointed sole executor, in order that the power and the beneficial interest may be combined in one and the same person; but if an executor has only a life-interest in the income to arise from the property, some other should be appointed to act with him as joint executors.

The Wills Act, 1837, requires that certain formalities should be observed as to the attestation of wills and codicils. The latter instruments, however, scarcely come within the scope of this, as it is very rare to find a conjunction of circumstances in which it would be advisable for a testator to attempt to alter the effect of the will itself by adding a codicil thereto. Although the Act does not require the adoption of any special form of attestation, still it is very desirable that a well-designed form should be used, because it draws the attention of the parties to the statutory requisites, which cannot be neglected without danger of the will becoming mere waste paper. Such a form is the following, the insertion of which may be allowed to supersede the necessity for a long explanation: ‘Signed by the said A. B. C. as his last Will and Testament in the presence of us, present at the same time, who, at his request, in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses.’ Each witness should sign under this clause, and add his address and occupation. Formerly, if any witness had any interest in the will, the effect was to render the will void; but the inconvenience of this led to an alteration of the law, whereby in case of a beneficiary—or the wife or husband of a beneficiary—being one of the attesting witnesses, the will remains valid, except that the witness cannot take any benefit thereunder; nor can the husband or wife of such witness.

Much misapprehension exists as to the effect of the marriage of a testator on a will previously executed by him. It is generally known that a will may be revoked by the making of a subsequent will; whether the revocation be express—which it ought always to be—or merely by necessary implication, the new will being inconsistent with the old one, and not merely a codicil which is intended to be supplementary thereto. But it is very difficult to persuade some people that _when a man gets married, he ought to make a new will_, the marriage operating as a revocation of the former will. There is no need to insist to any great extent upon the fairness of this rule of law, for it scarcely requires a moment’s consideration to see that a will which would be quite proper for a bachelor, would be altogether unsuitable for the altered status of the same man when, by his marriage, he had taken upon him new duties and responsibilities. Few men would be so cruel as to wish their wills to remain unaltered when their position had so materially changed. Sometimes mischief is done by over-anxiety to provide for an intended wife; a man makes a will before his marriage, in order that his intended wife may be provided for in the event of his decease before marriage; and in ignorance of the rule of law as to revocation, he neglects to have his will re-copied, and then to re-sign it, and have the new will duly attested after the nuptial ceremony has been performed; in consequence of which neglect or omission, he ultimately dies intestate; and his wife only becomes entitled to the provision made for her by the law, although her husband intended her to have a much larger share of his estate. It is only requisite for this peculiarity to be known in order that the remedy, which is so easy, may be applied.

As to the revocation of a will by destruction, the legal distinctions often give rise to questions as difficult of solution as any which affect the original validity of wills. A testator who is of sound and disposing mind may cancel or revoke a will which he has previously made, without making another will to supersede it; and the usual mode of effecting this object is by the destruction of the will with the intention of revoking it. Here, however, all the necessary conditions must exist, or the will would not be revoked; and even if it were destroyed so utterly that its contents were undecipherable, and so destroyed by the testator himself, yet, if he did not intend to revoke the will, or was mentally incapable of disposing of his property, if the contents of the will could be proved in some other way, as from a draft or copy, probate would be granted of such draft or copy, although the expense of proving the will in that indirect manner would be considerably more than an ordinary grant of probate would cost. A very curious case was before the court some time since. A married man who had made his will in favour of his wife, in a moment of passion arising from his displeasure at something which she had done—nothing of any importance—tore up his will and threw the pieces at her before leaving the room where the quarrel had occurred. She was a wise woman, for she gathered the fragments together and said no more on the subject until after her husband’s decease, when probate was granted of the pieces, the court being of opinion that the deceased had not seriously intended to revoke his will, but had simply torn it when irritated to the verge of madness; and in this view the fact of his not having made a subsequent will was an important consideration.

The following brief observations as to the capacity of testators must bring us to the end of our present subject. A married woman who possesses any separate estate may dispose of it by will or otherwise as if she were single. An infant cannot make a valid will, nor can a person of unsound mind. But there are many cases in which a person may be capable of transacting all ordinary business, and yet be so much under the influence of some other person that his will may be set aside in consequence of the undue influence which has been brought to bear upon him. It is impracticable for us to enter at any length upon this part of the subject, as we have already trespassed by exceeding the space allotted to us. The simple rule is, that the will must be—as its name implies—an expression of the unbiased will and mind of the testator. Whenever the validity of the will of any deceased person is disputed on any ground, the due execution and attestation thereof have to be proved in court; but in ordinary cases the witnesses are not called upon when the will is proved, unless there is some irregularity or incompleteness in the attestation clause, or some erasure or interlineation in the will.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It should be understood that this series of articles deals mainly with English as apart from Scotch law.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

‘ATLANTIC GREYHOUNDS.’

The wonderful results achieved by the great Atlantic liners are only stimulating men’s minds as to how the voyage may be still further accelerated. There are torpedo boats that can steam at the rate of twenty-two knots an hour, and enthusiasts now deem it possible to build passenger vessels which would double that speed. Professor Thurston proposes a steamer eight hundred feet in length, eighty feet beam, and twenty-five feet draught of water, as the best form yet known for quick sailing. The fast ships of to-day exert about one and a half horse-power per ton to reach a speed of twenty sea-miles per hour; but he anticipates some slight improvements which would reduce this figure. Though his leviathan may be expected to demand thirty-five thousand horse-power to make twenty knots an hour, he aspires to forty, and at this speed the horse-power required would probably amount to nearly two hundred and fifty thousand. The question is, whether the time saved would compensate for the expenditure of so much extra fuel. It appears that a vessel having a displacement of ten thousand nine hundred and sixty tons, and an indicated horse-power of ten thousand three hundred, consumes two hundred and five tons of coal per day; while a smaller vessel, having only nine thousand eight hundred and sixty tons displacement, and fourteen thousand three hundred and twenty-one indicated horse-power, consumes three hundred and fifteen tons of coal per day, and yet the larger vessel has accomplished the passage in about eighteen hours longer than the smaller, and burned about six hundred tons of coal less. The present difficulty of naval architects is how to give greater speed with a low consumption of coal and the same carrying capacity. If passenger vessels relied solely on passengers, quicker voyages would be at once possible. However, there seems a growing tendency towards divorcing goods from passenger traffic, as railways have already done. Then light, yacht-like vessels of modern size would, for speed, safety, and economy, probably meet all the requirements of the passenger traffic. A high rate of speed, it may be presumed, will not be overlooked, whatever else. Some sanguine people believe that less than forty years will suffice to reduce the seven days of an Atlantic trip to three and a half, and Professor Thurston mentions about eighty hours. There are several arguments which point to the possibility of a great reduction. If we go back forty-one years, the _Great Britain_ made the passage from Liverpool to New York in a little less than fifteen days, and though this was considered good, in 1874 the _Britannic_ and _Germanic_ placed Queenstown and New York within eight and a half days’ sail of each other. The _Etruria_ and _Umbria_ have since made the voyage in six days six hours. Again, of the seven vessels engaged in the transatlantic trade which have made the passage in seven days or under, not one has been fitted with those latest aids to economy, triple expansion engines and forced draught. As a matter of fact, there is enormous waste; and an authority estimates that only one half of the total power exerted by the engines is effective in propelling the vessel. In addition to this, a very considerable portion of the heat energy of the fuel escapes through the funnel, instead of producing steam. Something might be done here towards securing greater economy; and by using high-pressure boilers and triple expansion engines, there is said to be a saving of as much as sixteen per cent. One thing seems to be pretty clear, that the fast steamers of the future will owe their speed to the engineer more than to the naval architect. The lines upon which modern racers are built are scarcely likely to be much improved. When the engineer gets the space at present devoted to cargo, for engines, boilers, and fuel, swiftness will ensue, but at a greater cost, as a matter of course, as may be gathered from the fact that on the Atlantic voyage a gain of eighteen hours between two ships, in all respects equal, necessitates an expenditure of five hundred tons of coal extra. As, however, we have already predicted in these pages, oil may yet take the place of the bulky and unwieldy coal.

‘ARMY PANICS.’

With reference to the article which appeared in a recent number of this _Journal_ (No. 144), a Forfarshire parish minister sends us an incident copied from the diary of his father, who was in the 92d Highland Regiment, and which incident bears some likeness to that quoted from Napier’s _Peninsular War_ in the article above referred to. The 92d formed part of Lord Hill’s division, which seems to have included also the 24th, the 50th, and 71st regiments, and a regiment of Guards. The incident is told as follows:

‘Our division marched to a place within five leagues of Madrid, called Aranjuez, where the king of Spain has a grand palace on the banks of the Tagus. At this time, Lord Wellington was closely investing Burgos; but the French, bringing a large army into the country, forced him to raise the siege, and the whole of the English, Portuguese, and Spanish troops had to fall back upon the frontiers of Portugal. Our division, under Lord Hill, coming past Madrid in the course of our retreat, had to cross a large bridge at midnight. It was then that a very extraordinary thing occurred. In a moment and without any cause for it whatever, all the troops were struck with a panic and driven into great confusion. Some were thrown on their backs, and others had their legs almost broken. Bonnets flew one way, and muskets another. This unaccountable panic extended to the rear of the whole division. A regiment that was lying asleep by the roadside was roused and thrown into confusion at the same instant. It so happened that next day the French came up to the bridge and a sharp contest took place. Our artillery was at one end of the bridge, and the French at the other. There was a very sharp fire on both sides with field-pieces and small-arms.’

THE TWO SEAS.

‘When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee.’

Each night we are launched on a sea of sleep;
No doubts disturb us, no fears annoy.
Though we plough the waves of the darkened deep,
We know we are safe in the Master’s keep,
And the morning brings us joy.

What dread, then, should daunt us, what doubt distress,
When on Death’s dark sea we are launched alone?
In that deeper sleep, should we trust Him less?
Shall we limit to earth His power to bless?
Will the Father forsake his own?

He made us His children; He bears us to bed;
And whether our sleep be the first or last,
What matters it where our souls are led,
If our trust in the God of the living and dead
Should only hold us fast?

J. B. S.

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