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ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. Diamond Cut Diamond. By IVAN TURGENIEFF. and Others. Stories from Foreign Novelists. By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. Mistress Judith. By SARAH TYTLER. What She Came Through. The Bride's Pass. By T. S. WINTER. Cavalry Life. Regimental Legends. »} CffATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W. STRANGE STORIES / ft^ffw >s rf '■'■ He had looked at the child 7i.'itli one of his awful faccs-^'—yt. 26. STRANGE STORIES liV GRANT ALLl-N (y'. Arktlhiw: Wilson) WITH A FRONTISPIECE AT GEORGE JUr MAURlEK Hontion CHATTO AND WINDUS, ITCCADILLY 1SS4 \AU rights rcsriTS({] PREFACE. It is with some little trepidation that I venture to submit to the critical world this small collection of short stories. I feel that in doing so I owe some apology both to my readers and to the regular story-tellers. Being by trade a psychologist and scientific journeyman, I have been bold enough at times to stray surreptitiously and tentatively from my proper sphere into the flowery fields of pure fiction. Home of these my divarications from the strict path of sterner science, however, having been already publicly performed under the incognito of " J. Arbuthnot Wilson," have been so far condoned by generous and kindly critics that I am emboldened to present them to the judgment of readers under a more permanent form, and even to dispense with the convenient cloak of a pseudonym, under which one can always so easily cover one's hasty retreat from an untenable position. I can only hope that my confession will be accepted in partial extenuation of this culpable departure from the good old rule, " Ne sutor ultra crepidam;" and that older hands at the craft of story-telling will pardon an amateur novice his defective workmanship on the general plea of his humble demoanour. •* iv rilEFACE. I may perhaps also venture to plead in self-defence that though these stories do not profess to be anything more than mere short sensational tales, I have yet endeavoured to give to most of them some slight tinge of scientific or psychological import and meaning. " The Reverend John < "reedy," for example, is a study from within of a singular persistence of hereditary character, well known to all students of modern anthropological papers and reports. IVIcmbers of barbarous or savage races, trained for a timo in civilized habits, are liable at any moment to revert naturally to their primitive condition, especially under the contagious influence of companionship with persons of their own blood, and close subjection to the ancestral cir- cumstances. The tale which I ha\'o based upon several such historical instances in real life endeavours briefly to hint at the modes of feeling likely to accompany such a relapse into barbarism in an essentially fine and sensitive savage nature. To most European readers, no doubt, such a sheer fall from the pinnacle of civilization to the netlier- most abysses of savagery, would seem to call for the dis- play of no other emotion than pure disgust and aversion ; but those who know intimately the whole gamut of the in- tensely impressionable African mind will be able to treat its temptations and its tendencies far more sj'mpathetic- ally. In " The Curate of Churnside," again, I have tried to present a psychical analj-^sis of a temperament not uncommon among the cultured class of the Italian Ivonaissanco, and less rare than many people will be inclined to imagine among the colder type of our own emancipated and cultivated classes. The union of high intellectual and aesthetic culture with a total want of moral sensibility is a recognized fact in many periods of history, r RE FACE. ir tlioiigli our own age is singularly loth to admit of its * possibility in its own contemporaries. In " Earn Das of Cawnporc," once more, I have attempted to depict a few circumstances of the Indian Mutiny as tho;y' must naturally have presented themselves to the mind and feelings of a humble native actor in that great and terrible drama. Accustomed ourselves to locking always at the massacres and reprisals of the Mutiny from a purely English point of view, wo are liable to forget that eveiy act of tho mutineers and their aiders or abettors must have been fully justified in their own eyes, at the moment at least, as every act of every human being always is to his own inner personality. In his conscience of conscience, no man ever really believes that under given circumstances ho could conceivably have acted otherwise than ho actually did. If he persuades himself that he does really so believe, then he shows himself at once to be a very poor introspective psychologist. " The Child of the Phalanstery," to take another case, is a more ideal effort to realize the moral conceptions of a community brought up under a social and ethical environment utterly dilFerent from that by which we ourselves are now surrounded. In like manner, almost all the stories (except the lightest among them) have their germ or prime motive in some scientific or quasi-scientific; idea ; and this narrow link which' thus connects them at bottom with my more habitual sphere of work must serve as my excuse to the regular story-tellers for an otherwiso unwarrantable intrusion upon their private preserves. I trust they will forgive me on this plea for my trespass on their legitimate domains, and allow me to occupy in peace a little adjacent corner of unclaimed territory, which lies so temptingly close beside my own small original freehold. ▼i PREFACE. I should add that " Tho Reverend John Creedy," " The Curate cf Churnside," " Dr. Greatrex's Engagement," and " The Backslider," have already appeared in tho Cornh'lt Magazine ; while " Tho Foundering of the Fortuna " was first published in Longman's Magazine. The remainder of the tales comprised in this volume have seen the light originally in the pages of Belgravia. I have to thank tho courtesy of tho publishers and editors of those periodicals- for kind permission to reprint them here. G. A. The Nook, Dorkixg, October 12, 1884. CONTENTS. PA(;r. 47 CG 100 I HE Keverexd John Greedy i Dit. CiitEATREx's Engagement ... oi Mr. Chung The Curate of Churnside An Episode in High Life ... My Kew Year's Eve among the Mummies ... 12(; The Foundering of the "Fortuna" ... 144 The Backslider ... ... ... 204 The Mysterious Occurrence in Piccadilly ... ... I'ji Carvalho Pausodyne *•• ••• The Empress of Andorra The Senior Proctor's Wooing The Child of the Phalanstery... Our Scientific Observations on a Ghost ... ... 39 1 Ram Das of Cawnpore ... ... 3^. 207 2U or.- . 278 301 STRANGE STORIES. THE REVEREND JOHN CREED Y. I. *' On Sunday next, the 14tli inst., tho Eevercnd Joliii Crcetly, B.A., of ]\Ia2;(lalcu College, Oxford, Avill preach iu "Walton Magna Church, on Lchalf of tho Gold Coast Mission." Not a very startling announcement that, and yet, simple as it looks, it stirred Ethel Berry's soul to its inmost depths. For Ethel had been brought up by her Aunt Emily to look upon foreign missions as tho ono thing on earth worth living for and thinking about, and the Kcverend John Creedy, B.A., had a missionary history of his own, strange enough oven in these strange days of queer juxtapositions between utter savagery and advanced civilization. " Only think," she said to her annt, as they read tho placard on the schoolhouse-board, " he's a real African negro, tho vicar says, taken from a slaver on tho Gold Coast when ho was a child, and brought to England to bo educated. He's been to Oxford and got a degree ; and now he's going out again to Africa to convert his own people. And he's coming down to the vicar's to stay on Wednesday." " It's my belief," said old Uncle James, Aunt Emily's 2 STlLiNGE STORIES. Lrotlier, the .superannuated skip])cr, " that lio'd much licttor stop in England for ever. I'vo been a good bit on the Coast myself in my time, after palm oil and such, and my opinion is that a nigger's a nigger anywhere, but he's a sight less of a nigger in England than out yonder in Africa. Take him to England, and you make a gentle- man of him : send him home again, and the nigger comes out at once in spite of you." " Oh, James," Aunt Emily put in, *' how can you talk such unchristianliko talk, setting yourself up against iiiissions, when wo know that all the nations of tho eartli are made of one blood ? " "I'vo always lived a Christian life myself, '•^luily," answered Uncle James, " though I have cruised a good bit on the Coast, too, which is against it, certainly ; but I take it a nigger's a nigger whatever you do with him. The Ethiopian cannot change his skin, tho Scripture •says, nor tlie leopard his 'pots, and a nigger he'll bo to tho end of his days ; you mark my words, Emily." On Wednesday, in due course, the Eeverend John Creedy arrived at the vicarage, and much curiosity there was throughout tho village of Walton Magna that week to see this curious new thing, a coal-black parson. Next day, Thursday, an almost equally unusual event occurred to Ethel Berry, for, to her great surprise, she got a little note in the morning inviting her up to a tennis jiarty at the vicarage the same afternoon. Now, though the vicar called on Aunt Emily often enough, and accepted her helj) readily for school feasts and other village festi- vities of the milder sort, tho Berrys were hardly up to that level of society which is commonly invited to the parson's lawn tennis parties. And the reason why Ethel was asked on this particular Thursday must bo traced to a certain pious conspiracy between the vicar and the secretary of the Gold Coast Evangelistic Society. When those two eminent missionary advocates had met a fort- THE llKVEriESD JOIIX CREEDY. Tiiglit before at Exctur TTall, tlie secretary had reprcsoiitocl to the vicar tlio dosirabilily (»f young John Crcetly's taking to himself an En<>;lisli \vifo before his departure. " It ^vill steady him, and kecsp him right on the Coast," ho said, "and it will give him importance in the eyes of the natives as ■vvdl." "Whereto tlio vicar responded that jio knew exactly the right ^irl to suit the place in his own jjarish, and that l>y a i)rovideutial conjunction she already took a deep interest in foreign missions. So these two good men conspired in all innocence of heart to sell poor Kthel into African slavery ; and the vicar had asked John C reedy down to AValtun Magna on purpose to meet her. That afternoon Ethel put on lior pretty sateen and her witching little white hat, with two natural dog-roses pinned on one side, and went pleased and proud up to tlio vicarage. The licvcrend John (Jrcedy was there, not in full clerical costume, but arraj-ed in tennis flannels, with only a loose white tie beneath his flap collar to mark his newly acquired spiritual dignity, lie was a comely looking negro enough, full-blooded, but not too broad- faced nor painfully African in type ; and when ho was playing tennis his athletic quick limbs and his really handsome build took away greatly from the general im- pression of an inferior race. His voice was of the ordinary Oxford type, open, pleasant, and refined, with a certain <^asy-going air of natural gentility, hardly marred by just the faintest tinge of the thick negro blur in the broad vowels. AVhen he talked to Ethel — and the vicar's wife took good care that they should talk together a great deal — his conversation was of a sort that she seldom heard at Walton Magna. It was full of London and Oxford, of boat-races at Iffley and cricket matches at Lord's; of people and books whoso very names Ethel had never heard — one of them was a jMr. Mill, she thought, and another a Mr. Aristotle — but which she felt vaguely to bo 4 STRANGE SroniES. ono stop hifijhor in tho intolloctual scale than lier own level. Tlien lii.s frieiulH, to wliom ho alluded caHually, not liko ono who airs his grand acqnaintancuH, were siieli very dlHtinf^uished people. Tliero was a real live lord, apparently, at tho sarao collei^o with him, and ho spoke of a yonnf;; baronet whoso estate lay close hy, as plain " Harrinj^ton of Christchurch," without any " Sir Arthur" — a thirif^ wliich oven tho vicar himself would hardly have ventured to do. She knew that ho was learned, too ; as a matter of fact he had taken a fair second class in Greats at Oxford ; and he could talk delif^htfnlly of poetry and novels. To say the truth, Jolm Crcedy, in si)ito of his black face, daz/lcd poor Ethel, for ho was more of a scholar and a g-entleman than anybody with whom sho had ever before had tho chance of conversing on equal terms. When Ethel turned tho course of talk to Africa, tho young parson was equally eloquent and fascinating. Ho didn't care about leaving England for many reau ns, but ho would be glad to do something fo?" his poor brethren. Ho was cntliusiastic about missions; that was a common interest ; and ho was so anxious to raise and improve the condition of his fellow-negroes that Ethel couldn't help feeling what a noblo thing it was of him thus to sacrifice himself, cultivated gentleman as ho was, in an African jungle, for his heathen countrymen. Altogether, sho went home from tho tennis-court that afternoon thoroughly overcome by John Creedy's personality. She didn't for a moment think of falling in love with him — a certain indescribable race-instinct set up an impassable barrier against that — but she admired him and was interested in him in a way that sho had never yet felt with any other man. As for John Greedy, ho was naturally charmed with Ethel. In tho first place, ho would have been charmed with any English girl who took so much interest in himself and his plans, for, liko all negroes, he was frankly TlIK IIEVEIIICXI) JOUX CliEEDY. 5 cgotiHtical, and delighted to find a white hidy wlio seemed to treat him as a sni)erior being. But in the second phico, Ethel was really a ehariuing, simple English village lassie, with sweet little manners and a delici(ms hlnsh, who might have impressed a far less susceptible man than the young negro parson. So, whatever Etliel fc^lt, John (^reedy felt liimsolf truly in love. And after all, John (!reedywas in all essentials an educated Englisli gentle- man, with the same chivalrous feelings towards a pretty and attractive girl that every English gentleman ought to have. On Sunday morning Aunt Emily and Ethel went to the parish church, and the lieverend John Creedy preached the expected sermon. It was almost his first — sounded like a trial trip, Uncle .James muttered — but it was undoubtedly what connoisseurs describe as an admi- rable discourse. John Creedy was free from any tinge of nervousness — negroes never know what that word means — and ho spoke fervently, elocjucntly, auvl with much |)ower of manner about the necessity for a (jlold Coast Mission. Perhaps there was really nothing very original or striking in wliat ho said, but his way of saying it was impressive and vigorous. The negro, like many other lower races, has the faculty of speech largely developed, and John Creedy had been noted as one of the readiest and most fluent talkers at the Oxford Union debates. When ho enlarged upon the need for workers, the need for help, the need for succour and sympathy in the great task of evangelization. Aunt Emily and Ethel forgot his black hands, stretched out open -palmed towards the people, and felt only their hearts stirred within them by tho eloquence and enthusiasm of that appealing gesture. The end of it all was, that instead of a week John Creedy stopped for two months at Walton Magna, and during all that time he saw a great deal of Ethel. Before the end of the first fortnight he walked out one afternoon 6 STiiAyai: sToiuKs. along tlio rlvcr-luaiik with lior, aud talked earnestly of hif-'- expected mission. *' Miss Hcrry," ho said, as they sat to rest awhilo on tho jiarapot of tlio littlo hridj^o hy tho weeping willow.s, "I don't mind going to Africa, but I can't bear going all alone. I am to have a station entirely hv myself up tho Ancohra river, where I shall see no other Christian faeo from year's end to year's end. I wish I could have had iBumo one to accompany mo." "You will 1)0 very lonely," Ethel answered. "I wish indeed 3'ou could have some companionship." " Do you really ? " John C'reedy went on. " It is not. good for man to live alono ; ho wants a helpmate. Oli, JMiss Ethel, may I venturo to hope that perhaps, if I can try to deserve you, you will ho mine ? " Ethel started in dismay. j\[r. ('reedy had been very attentive, very kind, and she had liked to hear him talk and had encouraged his coming, but sho was hardly prepared for this. Tho nameless something in our blood recoiled at it. Tho proposal stunned her, and sho said nothing but " Oh, Mr. Crecdy, how can you say such a thing?" John Crecdy saw tho shadow on her face, tho uninten- tional dilatation of her delicate nostrils, tho faint puckering at the corner of her lips, and knew with a negro's quick instinct of face-reading what it all meant. " Oh, Miss Ethel," ho said, with a touch of genuine bitterness in his tone, "don't you, too, despise us. I won't ask you for any answer now ; I don't want an answer. But I want you to think it over. Do think it over, and consider whether you can ever lovo me. I won't press tho matter on you. I won't insult you by importunity, but I will tell you just this once, and once for all, what I feel. I lovo you, and I shall always lovo you, whatever you answer me now. I know it would cost you a wrench to take me, a greater wrench than to take tho least and the un worthiest THE liKVEIlKND .10 US (REHDY. of your own people. l>nt if you can only <;'ct over tliul fir.st Avrtnch, I can promise ciiruestly and fiiithfully to lovo you as well as over woman yet was lovetl. Don't say anythinj:; now," ho went on, as he saw she was }:;oin;^ to open hor mouth aj^ain : "wait and think it over; pray it over; and if you can't see your \.'ay Htraiut 1 shall carry your j)icturo written on my heart to my grave." And Ethel know that he was speaking from his very soul. When sho went homo, sho took Aunt Emily up into her little bedroom, over the porch where the dog-roses grew, and told her all about it. Aunt Emily cried and sobbed as if hor heart would break, but sho saw only ono answer from the first. " It is a gate opened t') you, my darling,"' sho said : " I shall break my heart over it, Ethel, but it is a gate opened." And though sho felt that all the light W(juld be gono out of her life if Ethel went, sho worked with hor might from that moment forth to induce Ethel to marry John Greedy and go to Africa. Poor soul, sho acted faithfully up to her lights. As for Uncle James, ho looked at the matter very differ- ently. " Her instinct is against it," ho said stoutly, *' and our instincts wasn't put in our hearts for nothing. They're meant to be a guide and a light to ns in these dark questions. No white girl ought to marry a black man, even if ho is a parson. It ain't natural : our instinct is again it. A white man may marry a black woman if ho likes : I don't say anything again him, though I don't say I'd do it myself, not for any money. But a whito woman to marry a black man, why, it makes our blood rise, you know, 'specially if you've happened to have cruised worth speaking of along the Coast." But the vicar and the vicar's wife were charmed with 8 STRANGE STORIES. iho prospect of snccess, and spoke seriously to Etliel about it. It was a call, they thought, and Ethel oughtn't to disregard it. They had argued themselves out of tliose wholesome race instincts that Uncle James so rightly valued, and they were eager to argue Ethel out of them too. What could the poor girl do? Her aunt and the vicar on the one hand, and John Greedy on the other, were too much between them for her native feelings. At the end of the fortnight John Greedy asked her his simple question " yes or no," and half againsther will she answered "yes." John Greedy took her hand delicately in his and fervidly kissed the very tips of her fingers ; something within him told him he must not kiss her lips. iShe started at the kiss, but she said nothing. John Greedy noticed the start, and said within himself, " I shall so love and cherish her that I will make her love mo in spite of my black skin." For witli all the faults of his negro nature, John Greedy was at heart an earnest and affectionate man, after his kind. And Ethel really did, to some extent, love him already. It was such a strange mixture of feeling. From one point of view he was a gentleman by position, a clergyman, a ]nan of learning and of piety ; and from this point of view Ethel was not only satisfied, but even proud of him. For the rest, she took him as some good Gatholics take the veil, from a sense of the call. And so, before the two months were out, Ethel Berry had married John Greedy, and both started together at once for Southampton, on their way to Axim. Aunt Emily cried, and hoped they might be blessed in their new work, but Unt^'i James never lost his misgivings about the effect of Africa upon a born African. " Instincts is a great thing," he said, with a shake of his head, as he saw the West Goast mail steam slowly down Southampton Water, " and when be gets among his own people his instincts will surely get the better of him, as safe as my name is James Berry." THE REVEREND JOHN CREEDY. n. The little mission bungalow at ButaLuo, a wooden slied neatly thatehod with fan palms, had been built and gar- nished by the native catechist from Axim and his wife before tho arrival of the missionaries, so that Ethel found a habitable dwelling ready for her at the end of her h)ng boat journey up the rapid stream of the Ancobra. There the strangely matched pair settled down quietly enough to their work of teaching and catechizing, for tho mission had already been started by the native evangelist, and many of the people were fairly ready to hear and accept the new religion. For the first ten or twelve months I^thel's letters homo were full of praise and love for dear -lohn. Now that she had come to know Idm well, she wondered she had ever feared to marry him. No husband was over so tender, so gentle, so considerate. Ho nursed her in all lier little ailments like a woman; she leaned on Iiim as a wife leans on the strong arm of her husband. And then ho was so clever, so wise, so learned. Her only grief was that she feared she was not and would never bo good enough for him. Yet it was well for her that they were living so entirely away from all white society at Butal)ue, for there slie had nobody with whom to contrast John but the half-clad savages around them. Judged by tho light of that startling contrast, good John Creedy, witli his cultivated ways and gentle manners, seemed like an Englishman indeed. John Creedy, for his part, thought no less well of his Ethel. He was tenderly resi)ectful to her ; more distant, perhaps, than is usual between husband and wife, oven in the first months of marriage, but that was due to his innate delicacy of feeling, which made him half unconsciously recognize the depth of the gulf that still divided them. Ho cherished her like some saintly thing, too sacred for 10 STllAXGE STORIES. the oonimon world. Yet Ethel was liis helper in all his work, so clieorful under the necessary privations of their life, so ready to put up Avith bananas and cassava IjalLs, so apt at kncadino- plantain paste, so willing to learn IVoin the negro women all the mysteries of mixing agadey, cardcey, and koko pudding. No tropical heat seemed to put her out of temper ; even the horrible country fever itself she bore \vith such gentlo resignation, John Creody felt in his heart of hearts tliat ho would willingly give up his life for her, and that it would bo but a small sacrifice for so sweet a creature. One day, shortly after their arrival at P»utabue, John Creedy began talking in English to the catechist about tlio best way of setting to work to learn the native lan- guage. He had left the countr}^ when he was nine years old, ho said, and had forgotten all about it. The catechist answered him qnickl}'- in a Fanteo phrase. John Creedy looked amazed and started. " What d he say ? ' ' asked Ethel. " He says tliat 1 shall soon learn if only I listen ; but the curious thing is, Ethie, that I understand him." " It has c()m(> back to you, John, that's all. You aro so quick at languages, and now you hear it again you remember it." " I'erhaps so," said the missionary, slowly, " but I have never recalled a word of it for all these years. I wonder if it will all come back to me." " Of course it will, dear," said Ethel ; " you'know, things come to you so easily in that way. You almost learned Portuguese while we were coming out from hearing those IJenguela people." And so it did come back, sure enough. Before John Creedy had been six weeks at Butabue, he could talk Fanteo as fluen Jy as any of the natives around him. After all, he was nine years old when he was taken to England, and it was no great wonder that he should recollect the ■VSS THE UEVEREND JOHN CUE ED Y. n •'<• lavignaj^o ho had heard in his childhood till that age. 6 till, ho liimsclf noticed rather uneasily that every phrase and word, down to tho very lieathcn charms and prayers of his intiuicy, camo back to him now with startling vividness and without an ellbrt. Four months aftor their arrival John saw ono day a tall and ugly negro woman, in tho scanty native dress, standing near tho rudo market-place whero tho Butabue butchers killed and sold their reeking goat-moat. Ethel saw him start again, and Avith a terrible foreboding in her heart, she could not hel}) asking him why ho started. " I can't, tell you,; Ethic," ho said, piteously ; " for heaven's sako don't press mo. I want to spare you." But Ethel would hear. " Is it your mother, John ? " she asked hoarsely. " No, thank heaven, not my mother, Ethie," he answered her, with something like pallor on his dark cheek, " not my mother ; but I remember tho woman." "A relative?" " Oh, Etliie, don't press me. Yes, my mother's sister, I remenrber lier years ago. Let us say no more about it." And Ethel, looking at that gaunt and squalid savago woman, shuddered in her heart and said no more. Slowly, as timo went on, however, Ethel began to notico a strange shade of change coming over John's ideas and remarks about tho negroes. At first ho had been shocked and distressed at their heathendom and savagery, but tho more he saw of it tho more ho seemed to find it natural enough in their position, and even in a sort of way to sympathize with it or apologize for it. Ono morn- ing, a month or two later, ho spoke to her voluntarily of his father, llo had never done so in England. " I can remember," he said, " ho was a chief, a great chief. IIo had many Avives, and my mother was ono. Ho was beaten. in War by Kola, and I was taken prisoner. But he had a lino palace at Kwantah, and many fan-bearers." Ethel observed with a faint terror that he seemed to speak with .12 STRANGE STORIES. pride and complacency of his father's chieftaincy. Sho .shuddered again and wondered. ^Vas the West African instinct getting the upper liand in him over the Christian jjrentlenian ? When the dries were over, and the koko-harvest gathered, the negroes hehl a grand feast. John had preached in the open air to some of the market people in the morning, and in the evening he was sitting in the hut with Ethel, waiting till the catcchist and his wife should come in to prayers, for they carried out their accustomed ceremony decorously, even there, every night and morning. Suddenly tbey heard the din of savage music out of doors, and the noise of a great crowd laughing and shouting down the street. John listened, and listened with deepening attention. " Don't you hear it, Ethie ? " he cried. " It's the tom-toms. I know what it means. It's the harvest hattle-feast! " " IIow hideous ! " said Ethel, shrinking hack. " Don't be afraid, dearest," John said, smiling at her. " It means no harm. It's only the people amusing them- selves." And ho began to keep time to the tom-toms rapidly with the palms of liis hands. The din drew nearer, and John grew more evidently excited at every step. "Don't j^ou hear, Ethie ? " he said again. " It's the Salonga. What inspiriting music ! It's like a drum and fife band ; it's like the bagpipes ; it's like a military march. By Jove, it compels one to dance ! " And ho got up as he spoke, in English clerical dress (for he wore clerical dress even at Butabue), and began capering in a sort of hornpipe round the tiny room. " Oh, John, don't," cried Ethel. " Suppose the catechist were to come in ! " But John's blood was up. *' Look here," he said ex- citedly, " it goes like this. Here you hold your matchlock out; here you fire; here you charge with cutlasses; here you hack them down before you ; here you hold up your enemy's head in your hands, and here you kick it off THE REVEIlEyD JOHN CIIEEDY. 13" anionrr tlio women. Oh, it's grand ! " Tliere was a torrlblo light in liis black eyes as he spoke, and a terrible trem- bling in his clenched l)lack hands. "John," cried Ethel, in an agony of horror, "it isn't Christian, it isn't linmau, it isn't worthy of you. I can never, never love yon if you do such a thing again." In a moment John's face changed and his hand fell as if she had stabbed him. "Ethie," ho said in a low voice, creeping back to her like a whipped spaniel, " Ethie, my darling, my own soul, my beloved ; what haoe I done ! Oh, heavens, I will never listen to the accursed thing again. Oh, Ethie, for heaven's sake, for mercy's sake, forgive me ! " Ethel laid her hand, trembling, on his head. John sunk upon his knees before her, and bowed himself down with his head between his arms, like one staggered and peni- tent. Ethel lifted him gently, and at that moment the catechist and his wafo came in. John stood up iirndy, took down his Bible and Piayer-book, and read through evening })rayer at once in his usual impressiA^e tone. In one moment ho had changed back again from the Fanteu savage to the decorous Oxford clergyman. It was only a week later that Ethel, hunting about in the little storeroom, happened to notice a stout wooden box carefully covered up. She opened the lid with some difiiculty, for it was fastened down with a native lock, and to her horror she found inside it a surreptitious keg of raw negro rum. She took the keg out, put it conspicuously in the midst of the storeroom, and said nothing. That night she heard John in the jungle behind the yard, and looking out, she saw dimly that he was hacking the keg to pieces vehemently with an axe. After that ho was even kinder and tenderer to her than usual for the next week, but Ethel vaguely remembered that onco or twice before, ho liad seemed a little odd in his manner, and that it was on those days that she had seen gleams of the savage nature peep- 14 STIiANGE STORIES. inj^ through. Perhaps, she thouf^ht, with a shiver, his civilization was only a veneer, and a glass of raw rum or ao was enough to wash it ofT. Twelve months after their first ariival, Ethel came homo very feverish one evening from her girls' school, and found John gone from the hut. Searching about in the room for tlio <|uinine bottle, she came (jnco more upon a nim-keg, and this time it was empty. A nameless terror drove her into the little bedroom. There, on the bed, torn into a hundred shreds, lay John Creedy's black coat and Euro- pean clothing. The room whirled around her, and though she had never heard of such a thing before, the terrible truth flashed across her bewildered mind like a hideous dream. She went out, alone, at night, as she had never done before since she came to Africa, into tlie broad lane between the huts which constituted the chief street of Eutabue. So far away from home, so utterly solitary anion 2: all those black faces, so sick at heart with that burning and devouring horror ! She reeled and staggered down the street, not knowing how or where she went, till at the end, beneath the two tall date-palms, she saw lights flashing and heard the noise of shouts and laughter. A group of natives, men and women together, were dancing and howling round a dancing and howling negro. The central figure was dressed in the native f;)sliion, with arras and legs bare, and ho was shouting a loud song at the top of his voice in theFantee language, while ho shook atom- torn. There was a huskiness as of drink in his throat, and his steps were unsteady and doubtful. Great heavens ! could that reeling, shrieking black savage be John Greedy ? Yes, instinct had gained the day over civilization ; the savage in John Creedy had broken out ; he had torn up his English clothes and, in West African parlance, " had gone Fantee." Ethel gazed at him, white with horror — stood still and gazed, and never cried nor fainted, nor said a word. The crowd of negroes divided to right and left, TUE UEVERENI) JOHN CREED Y. 13 ami Jolm Crcody saw his wife stamlinj^* tlicvo liko a marWo flguro. AVith oiio awful cry ho camo to himself again, and rnshcd to lier side. Slie did not repel him, as ho expeetcd; flio did not speak; she was mute and cold liko a corpse, not liko a living woman, llo took her up in his strong arms, laid her head on his shoulder, and carried her homo tlirough tlio long lino of thatclied huts, erect and steady as wlien ho iirst walked up the aisle of AValton IVIagna church. Then ho laid her down gently on tho bed, and called tho wife of tho catechist. " She has the fever," he said in Fantco. '• Sit hy her." The catechist's wifo looked at hor, and said, "Yes; tho yellow fever." And so she had. Even before sho saw Jolm the fever luid been upon her, and that awful revelation had brought it out suddenly in full force. She lay unconscious upon the bed, hor eyes open, staring ghastlily, but not a trace of colour in her cheek nor a sign of life upon hor face. Jolin Creedy wrote a few words on a piece of paper, which he folded in his hand, gave a few directions in Fantee to the woman at tho bedside, and thea hurried out like one on fire into the darkness outside. III. It was thirty miles through the jungle, by a native trackway, to tho nearest mission .station atEffucnta. There were two Methodist missionaries stationed there, John Creedy know, for he had gone round by boat more than once to sec them. When he first came to Africa ho could no more have found his way across the neck of the river fork by that tangled jungle track than ho could have flown bodily over the top of tho cocoa palms; but now, half 16 STRANGE STORIES. naked, harofootccl, and inspired with an overpowering emotion, ho threaded his i>ath thron<^li the darkness among the creepers and lianas of the forest in true African fashion. Stooping here, creeping on all fours there, running in tho open at full spoed anon, ho never once stopped to draw breath till ho had covered tho wholo thirty miles, and knocked in tho early dawn at tho door of tho mission hut at EiTuenta. One of tho missionaries opened tho barred door cautiously. " What do you want ? " ho asked in Fantee of tho bare- legged savage, who stood crouching by tho threshold. " I bring a message from Missionary John Creedy," the bare-legged savago answered, also in Fantee. " He wants European clothes." " Has ho sent a letter ? " asked tho missionary. John Creedy took tho folded piece of paper from his palm. The missionary read it. It told him in a few words how the Butabue people had pillaged John's hut at night and stolen his clothing, and how ho could not go outside his door till ho got some European dress again. " This is strange," said the missionary. " Brother Fel- ton died three days ago of the fever. You can take his clothes to Brother Creedy, if you will." Tho bare-limbed savage nodded acquiescence. The missionary looked hard at him, and fancied he had seen his face before, but ho never even for a moment suspected that he was speaking to John Creedy himself. A bundlo was soon made of dead Brother Felton's clothes, and tho bare-limbed man took it in his arms and prepared to run back again the whole way to Butabue. " You have had nothing to cat," said tho lonely mis- Bionary. " Won't you take something to help you on your way ? " " Give me some plantain paste," answered John Creedy. " I can cat it as I go." And when they gave it him he forgot himself for the moment, and answered, "Thank THE nKVEUESl) JOHN CUEEDY. 17 you" in English. Tlio missionary stared, Tmt tliou;^lit it. was only a single itliraso that ho liad ]>icke(l np at Biitahiio, and that ho was anxiuus, no^ro-fushion, to air his knowh (Igo. liack throngh tho jnnglc, with tho hundlo in his arms, John ( 'reedy wormed his way onco more, like a snake or a tiger, never pausing or halting on the road till ho found liiinsolf again in tho open space outside tho village of Hutabue. There ho stayed awhile, and behind a clump of wild ginger, ho opened tho bundle and arrayed himself onco more from head to foot in English clerical dress. That done, too proud to slink, ho walked bold and. erect down tho main alloy, and quietly entered his own hut. It was high noon, tho baking high noon of Africa, as lio did so. Ethel lay unconscious still upon the bed. Tho negi-o woman crouched, half asleep after her night's watching, at tiio foot. John Creedy looked at his watch, which stood hard by on tho littlo wooden table. "Sixty miles iu fourteen hours," ho said aloud. " Better time bv a great /?. anFATBKTS ENGAGEMENT, KvKRYFsoDY kiiows by name at least ihe celoLratinl Dr. (ircatrex, tlic discovcrt'i' of tliat al)slnise molecular theory of tlio jntcrrulatioiis i)f forces aiioy stuck his tongue into the corner of his check and uttered derisive shouts from a safe distance, Arthur concluded ho was only doing after the manner of his kind out of pure gratuitous inso- lence. Ho went homo to his lodgings and sat down to aTi hour's work; Ijut after he had read up several pages more of " Stuekcy on fiout," he laid down tho hook in disgust, and took out IlLdmholt/ and Joule instead, indulfjins: himself with a little desultory reading in his favourite study of the higher physics. As ho read and read the theory of correlation, tho great idea as to tho real nature of energy, which had escaped all these learned physicists, and which was then slowly forming itself in his own mind, grcAv gradually clearer and clearer still before his mental vision. Ilelmholtz was wrong here, because ho had not thoroughly appreciated the disjunctive nature of electric energy ; Joule was wrou"- there, because he had failed to understand the real anti- thesis between potential and kinetic. Ho laid down the books, paced up and down tho room thoughtfully, and beheld the whole concrete theory of interrelation embody- ing itself visibly before his very eyes. At last ho grow fired with the stupendous grandeur of his own conception, seized a quiro of foolscap, and sat down eagerly at tho 28 STRANGE STORTES. table to give written form to the splendid phantom that was floating hcfurohiin in so distinct a fashion. lie would make a great name, for Hetty's sako ; and, when ho had made it, his dearest reward would bu to know that Hetty was proud of him. Hour after hour he sat and wrote, as if inspired, at his little table. The huidhidy knocked at the door to tell him ilinner was ready, but ho would have none of it, ho said; let her bring him up a good cup of strong tea and a few plain biscuits. 80 he wrote and wrote in feverish haste, Forty of liis fortlieomiii^* i^r^at work on " Ethnical rsyclujlogy." T sat hy.Mr. ('hun<^' for tlio greater part of what was left of that evening. From tho very first ho exercised a sort of indescrihahlo fascination over mo. His English had hardly a trace of foreign accent, and his voice was one of tho sweetest and most exquisitely modnlatod that I have over heard. AVhen he looked at yon, his deep calm eyes hospoke at once tho very essence of transparent sincerity. Before tho evening was over, ho had told mo tho whole history of his education and his past life. Tho son of a well-to-do Pekin mandarin, of distinctly European tastes, he had early passed all his examinations in China, and had been selected hv the Celestial Government as one of tho first hatch of students sent to Europo to ac'piire the ton;4ue.s and tho sciences of tho Western barbarians, (.'hung's bilh t was to England; and lui'e, or in France, ho had lived witli a few intervals ever bince ho first came to man's estate. He luul picked up our language ([uickly ; had taken a degree at London University; and had made him- self thonuighly at homo in Engli.sh literature. In fact, he was practically an Englishman in everything but face and clothing. His naturally fino hitellect had assimilated European thought and European feeling with extraordinary case, and it was often almost impo.ssihlo in talking with him to remember that ho was not one of ourselves. If you shut your eyes and listened, you heard a pleasant, cultivated, intelligent young Englishman; when you cpened them again, it was always a fresh surprise to find yourself conversing with a genuine yellow-faced pig-tailed ;^liinaman, in tho full costume of the peacock's feather. " You -ould never go back to live in China? " I said to 5 r>Q STRANGE STORIES. him inquiringly after a time. " You couid never endure life amonc; your own people after so long a residence in civilized Europe?" " My dear sir," he answered with a slight shudder of horror, " you do not reflect Avhat iiwy position actually is. ]\[y Government may recall me any day. I am simply at their mercj-, and I must do as I am bidden." "But you would not like China," I pu: in. " Like it I " ho exclaimed with a gesture which for a Chinaman I suppose one must call violent. •' I should abhor it. It would be a living death. You who have never been in China can have no idea of what an awful misfortune it would bo for a man who has acquired civi- lized habits and modes of thought to live among such a set of more than mediieval barbarians as my countrymen still remain at the present day. Oh no; God grant I may never have to return there permanently, for it would be more than I could endure. Even a short visit to Pekin is bad enough ; the place reeks of cruelty, jobbery, and superstition from end to end ; and 1 always breathe more freely when I have once more got back on to the deck of a I'airopeaii steamer that flies the familiar British flag." " Then you are not patriotic," I ventured to say. " Patriotic ! " he replied with a slight curl of the lip ; " how can a man be patriotic to such a mass of corruption and abomination as our Chinese Government? I can understand a patriotic Russian, a patriotic Egyptian, nay, even a patriotic Turk ; but a patriotic Chinaman — why, the very notion is palpably absurd. Listen, my dear sir; you ask me if I could live in China. No, I couldn't ; and for the best of all possible reasons — they wouldn't let me. You don't know what the furious prejudice and blind superstition of that awful country really is. Before I had been there three months they would accuse mo cither of foreign practices or, what comes to much the same thing, of witchcraft; and they would put me to death by one MJi. CHUNG. 51 of their most horriblo torturing punlsliinonts— atrocities which I could not cvon mention in an English drawing- room. That is tlio sort of Damocles' sword that is always hanf»'ing over the head of every Europcanized Chinaman who returns against his OAvn free will to his native land." I was startled and surprised. It seemed so natural and simple to bo talking under Mrs. Bouverio Barton's Lig chandelier with this interesting young man, and yet so impossible for a moment to connect him in thought with all the terrible things that one had read in books about the prisons and penal laws of China. That a graduate of London University, a philosopher learned in all the poli- tical wisdom of Ilicardo, Mill, and Herbert Spencer, should really bo subject to that barbaric code of abominable tor- tures, was more than one could positively realize. I hesitated a moment, and then I said, " But of course they will never recall you." " I trust not," he said quietly ; " I pray not. Very likely tliey will let me stop hero all my lifetime. I am an assistant interpreter to the Embassy, in wliicli capacity I am useful to Pekin ; whereas in any home appointment I would of course be an utter failure, a manifest impossi- bility. But there is really no accounting for the wild vagaries and caprices of the Vermilion Pencil. For aught I know to tlic contrary, I might oven be recalled to-morrow. If once they suspect a man of European sympathies, their iirst idea is to cut off his head. They regard it as you would regard the first plague-spot of cholera or small-po.\ in a great city." "Heaven forbid that they should ever recall you," I said earnestly ; for already I had taken a strong fancy to this strange phenomenon of \Vestern education grafted on an immemorial Eastern stock ; and I had road enougli of China to know that what ho said about his probable fate if ho returned there permanently was nothing more than 52 STRANGE STORIES. the literal ti'iiili. The Laroidca of such a catastrophe wa& too horrible to bo realized for a moment in Eaton Place. As we drove home in our little ono-horso brougham that eveninc^:, my wife and Efno wore very anxious to learn what manner of man my Chinese acquaintance might really he; and when I told them what a charming person I had found hiin, thcv were botli inclined rather to laugh at mo for my entliusiastic description. Eftle, in particular, jeered much at the notion of an intelligent and earnest-minded Chinaman. "You know, Uncle darling," she said in her bewitching way, "all your geese are always swans. Every woman you meet is absolutely beautiful, and every man is perfectly delightful — till Auntie and I liaA'O seen them." "Perfectly true, Effie," I answered; " it is an amiable weakness of mine, after all." However, before the week was out Effio and jMariaii between them winild have it that I must call upon Chung and ask him to dine with us at Kensington Park Terrace. Their curiosity was piqued, for one thing; and for an- other thing, they thought it rather the clieeso in these days of expansive cosmopolitanism to bo on speaking terms with a (,'hinesc attache. " Japanese are cheap," said Efiie, "horribly chea]) of late years — a perfect drug in the market ; but a Chinaman is still, thank Heaven, at a social premium." Now, though I am an obedient enough hus- band, as husbands go, I don't always accede to Marian's wishes in these matters ; but everybody takes it for granted that Eflie's will is law. Eflie, I may mention parentheti- cally, is more tlian a daughter to us, for she is poor Tom's only child ; and of course everybody connected with dear Tom is doubly precious to us now, as you may easily ima- gine. So when Effio had made up her mind that Chung was to dine with us, the thing was settled ; and I called at his rooms and duly invited him, to the general satisfactiou of everybody concerned. The dinner was a very pleasant one, and, for a wonder, MIL CHUNG. 53 T]ftiG and Marian Loth coincided entirely in my hastily Ibriucd opinion of Mr. (Jlmnj^. His mellow silvery voice, liis frank trnthful manner, his perfect freedom from self- oonsciousness, all pleased and impressed those stern critics, and by the end of the evening they Avero Loth qnito as much taken with his delightful persomility as I myself had originally been. One link leads on to another; and the end of it all was that when we went down for our summer villoggiatura to Abbot's Xorbury, notliing would plcaso IMarian but that ]Mr. Chung must be invited down as one of our pa^t3^ He came willingly enough, and for live or six weeks wo had as pleasant a time together as any four people ever spent, (,'hung was a perfect encyclopaedia of information, while his good humour and good s})irits never for a moment failed him under any circumstances what- soever. One day we had made up a little private picnic to Xorbury Edgx', and were sitting together after luncheon under the shade of the big ash tree, when the conversation happened to turn by accident on the small feet of Cliineso ladies. I had often noticed that Chung was very reticent about Cliina; he did not like talking about his native country'; and ho was most pleased and most at liomo when we treated him most like a Ihiropean born. Evidently ho hated tin; provincialism of the Flowery Land, and loved io lose his identity in the wider culture of a Western •ivilization. •' IIow funny it will be," said Efiio, " to see ]\Irs. Chung's liny feet when yiju bring her to London. I suppose one of these days, on one of your fij'ing visits to I'ekin, you will take to yourself a wife in your country?" "No," Chung answered, with (juiet dignity; "I .shall never marry— that I have (piito decided in my own mind." " Oh, don't say that," Marian put in (juickly ; " I hate to iiear men say thev'll never marrv. It is such a terrible :iiistako. They become so sellhsh, and frumpish, and oKl- 84 stuakge stories. bachelorish." Dear IMarian has a liigli idea of tlie services she has reiidcrod to society in saving her own fortunate Inisband from this miscraLlo and deplorable condition. •' Perhaps so," Chung replied quietly. " No doubt what you say is true as a rule. But, for my own part, I could never marry a Chinawoman ; I am too thoroughly Europeani/od for that ; we should have absolutely no tastes or sympathies in common. You don't know what my countrywomen are like, Mrs. "Walters." " All, no," said my wifo c(mtomplatively ; *' I suppose your people are all heathens. AVhy, goodness gracious, Mr. Chung, if it comes to that, I suppose really you arc a heathen yourself! " Chung parried the question gracefull}'. " Don't you know," said he, "what Lord Chesterfield answered to the lady who asked him what religion he professed? 'Madam, the religion to which all wiso men belong.' 'And what is that V ' said she. ' Madam, no wise man over says.' " " Never mind Lord Cliestcrfield," said Efiie, smiling, " but let us come back to the future Mrs. Chuno;. I'm quite disappointed you won't marry a Chinawoman ; but at any rate I suppose you'll marry somebody ? " " Well, not a European, of course," Marian put in. " Oh, of course not," Chung echoed with tnio Oriental imperturbability. " Why of course 9 " Effie asked half imconsciously ; and yet the very unconsciousness with which she asked the question showed in itself that she instinctively felt the gulf as much as any of us. If Chung liad been a white man instead of a yellow one, she would hardly have discussed the question at issue wdth so much simplicity and obvious innocence. *' Well, I will tell you why," Chung answered. " Be- cause, even supposing any European lady were to consent to become my wife — which is in the first place eminently improbable — I could never think of putting her in the Ml!. criuxG. •)J terribly falso position that she would have to occupy iiiuler existing circumstances. To begin with, herplaeo in ]']Tiglisli society would be a peculiar and a trying one. lUit that is not all. You must remember that 1 am still a subject of the Chinese Empire, and a member of the Cliineso Civil Service. I may any day bo recalled to China, and of course — I say ' of course ' this time advisedly — it would bo absolutely impossible for mo to take an English wife to Pek.'.i 'vitli me. fSu I am placed in this awkward dilemma. I would never care to marry anyl)()dy except a European lady ; and to marry a European lady would be an act of injustice to her which I could never dream of committing. 1 >ut considcringthejustifiablecontempt which all Europeans rightly feel for us poor John Chinamen, I don't think it probable in any case that the temptation is at all likely to arise. And so, if yoiT please, as the newspapers always put it, ' the suiiject then dropped.' " We all saw that Chung v/as in earnest as to his wish that no more should be said about the matter, and wo respected his feelings accordingly ; but that evening, as wo sat smoking in the arbour after the ladies had retired, I said to him quietly, " Tell me, Chung, if you really aisliko China so very much, and are so anxious not to return there, why don't you throw oif your allegiance altogether, become a British subject, and settle down among us for good and all ? " " My dear fellow," he said, smiling, " you don't think of the diflicidties, I ma}- say the impossibilities, in the waj' of any such plan as you propose. It is easy enough for a European to throw off his nationality whenever he chooses ; it [is a very different thing for an Asiatic to do so. More- over, I am a member of a Legation. My Government would never willingly let mc become a naturalized Englisli- rnan ; and if I tried to manage it against their will they would demand my extradition, and would carry their point, too, as a matter of international courtesy, for one 50 STRANGE STORIES. nation could never iiitorfero witli tho accredited ruprcscnta- tivo of another, or Avith any of his suite. Even if I were to ahscond and get rid of my personality altogether, what would bo tho use of it? Nobody in England could find any employment fur a Cliinaman. I have no property of my own ; 1 depend entirely upon my salary fur support; ray position is therefore quite hopeless. I must simply let things go their own way, and trust to chance not to bo recalled to Pekin." During all tho rest of Chung's visit we let him roam pretty mucli as he liked about the place, and Effie and I generally went with him. Of course wo never for a moment fancied it possible that Effie could conceivably take a fancy to a yellow man like him ; the very notion was too pre- posterously absurd. And yet, just towards the end of his stay with us, it began to strike me uneasily that after all even a Chinaman is human. And when a Chinaman happens to have perfect manners, noble ideas, delicate sensibilit}', and a chivalrous respect for English ladies, it is perhaps just within tho bounds of conceivability that at some odd moments an English girl might for a second partially forget his oblique eyelids and his yellow skin. I was sometimes half afraid that it might be so with Effie ; and though I. don't think she wouht ever herself have dreamed of marrying such a man — the physical barrier between the races is far too profound for that — I fancy she occasionally pitied poor Chung's loneliness with that womanly pity which so easily glides into a deeper and closer sentiment. Certainly she felt his isolation greatly, and often hoped he would never really be obliged to go back for ever to tliat hateful China. One lovely summer evening, a few days before Chung's holiday was to end, and his chief at the Embassy expected him back again, Marian and I liad gone out for a stroll together, and in coming home happened to walk above tho little arbour in the shrubbery by the upper path. ME. CHUNG. 57 A scat let into the hedge bank overhung the sninnier-house, und hero wo both Bat down silently to rest after our walk- ing. As we did so, wo heard Chung'K voice in the arbour close below, so near and no clear that every word was qiiite distinctly audible. *' For the last time in England," ho was saying, with a softly regretful cadence in his tone, as wo came upon liim. " The lad time, Mr. Chung ! " The other voice was Effie's. " What on earth do you mean by that ? " " What 1 say, JMiss AValtcrs. I am recalled to China ; I got the letters of recall the day before yesterday." " The day before yesterday, and you never told us ! Why didn't you let us know before? " " I did not know you would interest yourselves in my private affairs." " Mr. Chung ! " There was a deep air of reproach in Tuflie's tone. " AVell, Miss AValtcrs, that is not quite true. I ought not to have said it to friends so kind as you have all shown yourselves to be. No ; m}^ real reason was that I did not wish to grieve you unnecessarily, and even now I would not have done so, only " "Only ?" At this moment I for my part felt we had heard tuo much. I blushed up to my eyes at the thought that wo should have unwittingly played the spy upon these two innocent young people. I was just going to call out and rush down the little path to them ; but as I made a slight movement forward, Marian held my Avrist with an implor- ing gesture, and earnestly put her finger on my lips. I was overborne, and I regret to say J stopped and listened. Marian did not utter a word, but speaking rapidly on her fingers, as we all had learnt to do for poor Tom, she said impressivel5% " For God's sake, not a sound. This is serious. We must and ouccht to hear it out." Marian is a 08 STRANGE STORIES. very clever woman in these matters; and when she thinks anythinf^' a point of duty to ])oor Tom's p,ir], T ahvays give way to lier implicitly. l>ut I confess I didn't like it. " Only ? " Effio had said. " Only I felt compelled to now. I could not leave without telling you liow deeply I had appreciated all yourkindness." "But, Mr. Chung, tell mo one thing," she asked, earnestly ; " why have they recalled you to Tekin ? " " I had rather not tell you." "I insist." "Becauso they are displeased Avith my foreign tastes and habits, which have been reported to them by some of my fellow-attaches.'^ " But, Mr. Chung, Uncle snys there is no knowing what they will do to you. They may kill you on some absurd charge or other of witchcraft or something equally meaningless." "I am afraid," ho answered irapcrturbably, "that may be the case. I dcm't mind at all on my own account — wo Chinese are an apathetic race, you know — l)ut I should bo sorry to bo a cause of grief to any of the dear friends I have made in England." " Mr. Chung ! " This time the tone was one of unspeak- able horror. " Dont speak like that," Chung said quickly. " There is no use in taking trouble at interest. I may come ta no harm ; at any rate, it will not matter much to any one but myself. Now let us go back to tho house. I ought not to have stopped hero with you so long, and it is nearly dinner time." " No," said Effie firmly ; *' we will not go back. I must understand more about this. There is plenty of timo before dinner : and if not, dinner must wait." *' But, Miss Walters, I don't think I ought to have- brought you out here, and I am (piito sure I ought not to> stay any longer. Do return. Your Aunt will be annoyed.'* Mli. cnuNG. 5'J^ "Bother Aunt! She is the host woman in the worhl, hut I must hear all ahout this. ]\Ir. Cliiint;, why don't you say you won't go, and stay in Enj^land in spite of thorn ? " Nobody ever disobeys Effio, and so Chung wavered visibly. "I will tell you why," ho answered slowly; " because I cannot. I am a servant of the Chinese Government, and if th(\y chooso to recall mo, I must go. " " ]>ut they couldn't ('uforce their demand." " Yes, they could. Your Government would give me up." '• But Mr. Chung, couldn't you run away and hido for a while, and then come out again, and live like an Englishman ? " " No," ho answered quietly ; " it is quite inqiossible. A Chinaman couldn't get work in England as a clerk or anything of that sort, and I have nothing of my own to live upon." There was a silence of a few minutes. Botli wore evidently tliinking it out. Effie broke the silence first. " Oh, IMr Chung, do you think they will really put you to death ? " " I don't think it ; I know it." "You know it?" " Yes." Again a silence, and this time Chung broke it first. " Miss Eflie," he said, " one Chinaman more or less in tho world does not matter much, and I shall never forgivo myself for having been led to grieve you for a moment, even thougli this is the last time I shall be able to speak to you. But I see you are sorry for jug, and now — Chinaman as I am, I must speak out — I can't leave you without having told you all I feel. I am going to a terrible end, and I know it — so you will forgive mo. Wo shall never meet again, so what I am going to say need never cause you any embarrassment in future. That I am recalled does not much trouble me ; that I am going 40 STRANGE STORIES. to (lio does not much trouLlo iiie ; but that I can novor, could never possibly have called you my wife, troubles mo and cuts mo to the very quick. It is the deepest drop ill my cup ol' liumiliation." " 1 kniiw it," said Ellie, "with wcmderful composure. " You knew it ? " " Yes, I knew it. I saw it fn)m the second week you were here ; and 1 liked you for it. liiit of c^ourse it was iuipossible, so there is nothing more to bo said about it." *' Of course," said Chung. " Ah, that terrible of course ! I feel it ; you feel it ; we all feel it ; and yet what a horrible tiling it is. T am so human in everything else, but there is that one impassable barrier between us, and I myself eannot fail to rccogni/e it. I could not even wish you to feel that you could marry a Chinaman." At that moment — for a moment only — I almost felt as if I could have said to Eflie, " Take him ! " but the thing was too impossible — a something within us rises against it — and I said notliimjf. " So now,"' Chung continued, " I must go. We must both go back to the house. I have said more than I ought to have said, and I am ashamed of myself for having done so. Yet, in spite of the measureless gulf that parts us, I felt I. could not return to China without having told you. Will you forgive me ? " " I am glad you did," said Efiio ; " it Avill roHcvo you." She stood a minute irresolute, and then she began ar»;ain : " Mr. Chung, I am too horrified to know what T ought to do. I can't grasp it and take it all in so quickly. If you had money of your own, would you be able to run away and live somehow ? " " I might possibly," Chung answered, " but not pro- bably. A Chinaman, even if he wears European clothing, is too marked a person ever to escape. The only chance would be hy going to Mauritius or California, where I might get lost in the crowd." i»//.'. CHUNG. Gl *']>ut, Mr. riniiip;, T liavo money of my mvn. WliaL can I do? llcl]) me, tell me. I ean't let a lellow-ercaturo die for a mere prejiidico of raeo and colour. If I were your wife it Avould 1)0 yours. Isn't it my dnty?" "No," s!iid Chunp;. "It is more sncrifu'o than any woman ou<;lit to make for any man. You like mo, but that is all." " If I shut my eyes and only heard you, I thiidc I could lovo you." " 3Iiss EfTie,"' f^aid Chuni:^ suddenly, *' this is wron^, very wronr^* t)f me. 1 have let my weakness overcome me. I won't stop any longer. I have done what I ought not to have done, and 1 sliall go this minute. Just once, before I go, shut your eyes and let mo kiss the tijis of your fingers. Thank you. No, I will not stop,'' and witliout another word ho was gone. Marian and I stared at one another in hlank horror. "What on earth was to bo done ? All solution were Cfpially impossible. ]']ven to meet Chung at dinner was terrible. We both knew in our heart of hearts that if ( 'huno: had been an Englishman, remaining in heart and soul the very self-samo man he was, wo would willinglj^ have chosen him for Efiie's husband. But a Chinaman ! IJeason about the prejudice as you like, there it is, a thing not to bo got over, and at liottom so real that even tho very notion of getting over it is terribly repugnant to our natural instincts. On the other hand, was poor Chung, with his line delicate feelings, his courteous manners, his cultivated intellect, his English chivalry, to go bade among the savage semi-barbarians of IVkin, and to bo put to deatli in Heaven knows what inhuman manner for the atrocious crime of having outstrijiped his race and nation ? The thing was too awful to contemplate either way. We walked home together without a word. Chung had taken the lower path ; we took the upper one and followed liim at a distance. Effic remained behind for a while in. 62 STRANG I'] STOIIIES. the siimmor-house. I don't know liow -vvo manaj^ctl to dress for dinner, but wo did Komeliow ; .'ind when wo went down into tlio littlo drawins^-room at ei^lit o'clock, wo Avero not surprised to lioar tliut Miss Efiio Lad a lieadacho and did not want any dinner that eYcnin<5. I was nioro surprised, however, when, shortly heforo the j;ong sounded, one of the servants brought mo a littlo twisted note from Chung, written hurriedly in pencil, and sent, sho said, by a porter from tlio railway station. It ran thus : — "Di:au Mr. Walters, " Excuse great haste. Compelled to return to town immediately. Shall write more fully to-morrow. Just in time to catch up express. *' Yours ever, " Chung." Evidently, instead of returning to tho house, ho had gone straight to tho station. After all, (-hung had tho truo feelings of a gentleman. He could not meet Effio again after what had passed, and he cut tho GoriHan knot in tho only way possible. Effic said nothing to us, and we said nothing to Effie, except to show her Chung's note next morning in a casual, off-hand fashion. Two days later a note came fur us from the Embassy in Chung's pretty incisive handwriting. It contained copious excuses for his hasty departure, and a few lines to say that he was ordered back to China by the next mail, which started two days later. IMarian and I talked it all over, but wo could think of nothing that could be of any use ; and after all, we said to one another, poor Chung might be mistaken about tho probable fate that was in storo for him. " I don't think," Eftie said, when we showed her the letter, "I over met such a nice man as Mr. Chung. I believe he is really a hero." We pretended not to under- stand what she could mean by it. mi. cnuxG. ly.i Tho tlays -went Ly, and wo went Lack aj^ain to tho dull rouml of London socioty. Wo heard notliiiiLi; more of Chung for many weeks ; till at last one morning I found a letter on the tahlo hearing Iho J long Kong postmark. J opened it hastily. As 1 supposed, it was a nolo from Cliung. It was written in a very small hand on a tiny equaro of rico-paper, and it ran as follows : — "Tliien-Shun Prison, reldii, Dop. S. "My dear Friknd, " Immediately on my return hero I was arrested on a ehargo of witchcraft, and of complicity witli the Foreign Devils to introduce the Western barbarism into China. I have now been in a loathsome prison in I'ekin for three weeks, in the niidist of sights and sounds wliieli I daro not describe to you. Already 1 have sutfered more than I can tell ; and ] have very little doubt that I shall bo brought to trial and executed witliin a few weeks. I write now begging j-ou not to let Miss Ellio hear of this, and if my name happens to bo mentioned in the English papers, to keep my fato a secret from her jis far jis pos- sible. 1 trust to chance for the opportunity of getting this letter forwarded to llong Kong, and I have liad to write it secretly, for I am not allowed pen, ink, or paper. Thank you much for your very great kindness to me. I am not sorry to die, for it is a mistake for a man to have lived outside tho life of his own ])eoplo, and there was no place left for mo on earth. Good-bye. " Ever yours gratefully, "CiiuNi;." Tho letter almost drove mo wild with ineffectual remorse and regret. Why had I not tried to persuade Chung to remain in England? Why had I not managed to smuggle him out of the way, and to find him some kind of light employment, such as even a Chinaman might easily have 01 STRANG n STORIES. porformctl? But it was no uso regretting now. Tlie impassablo gulf was fixed between us ; and it was hardily possible oven then to realize that this amiable young student, A'ersed in all the science and philosophy of tho nincteentli century, liad l)een hanilod over alive to tho tender mercies of a worse than mediaeval barbarism aTid superstition. My heart sank within me, and I did not venture to show tho letter even to Marian. For some weeks tho days passed heavily indeed. I could not get Chung out of my mind, and I saw that Effie could not cither. Wo never mentioned his name ; bat I noticed that Effie had got from jMudie's all tho books ivbout Cliina that she could hear of, and that she was roadiJig '.ip Yk'ith a sort of awful interest all the chapters that related to Chinese law and Chinese criminal punish- ments. Poor child, the subject evidently enthralled her with a terrible fascination ; and I feared that tho cxcito- ;ii5-nt she v/as in might bring on a brain fever. Ojio morning, earl}'- in April, wo were all seated in tho little Tjveakfast-room about ten o'clock, and Efliehad taken -p the outside sheet of tho Times, while I was engaged in looking over tho telegrams on the central pages. Suddenly she gave a cry of horror, flung down tho paper Avith a gesture of awful repugnance, and fell from her chair as stiff and white as a corpse. I knew instinctiv^dy •what had happened, and I took her up in my arms and carried her to her room. After tho doctor had come, and Effie had rvocovered a little from tho first shock, I took up the paper from the ground where it lay and read tho curt little paragraph which contained the news that ecemcd to us so terrible : — , " Tho numerous persons who made the acquaintance of Chung Fo Tsiou, lato assistant interpreter to the Chincso Embassy in London, will learn with regret that this unfortunate member of the Civil Service has been accused of witchcraft and executed at Pekin by the frightful MR. ciTUX^' c:. Chinese mctliod known as tlio Ilv .. j Death. Chung Fo Tsiou -was well known in London and Paris, where he spent many years of liis onii.ial life, and attracted some attention hy liis natural inclination to European society and manners." Pour Cliutig! iris end was too horrible for an Enj^lish reader even to iioar of it. Put Efiie knew it all, and I did not wonder tliat the news should have affected her so deejily. Efiie was some -weeks ill, and at fust wo almost feared her mind would give way under the pressure. Not that slic had more than merely liked poor Chunii;, hut the sense of horror was too great for her (easily to cast it off. Even I myself did not sleep lightly for many and many a day after I heard the terrilde trutli. Put Avliilo Effic was still ill, a second letter reached ns, Avritten this time in blood with a i)ieco of stick, apparently on a scrap of coarse English paper, such as tliat wdiich is nsed for w'rapping up tobacco. It was no more than this : — "Execntion to-day. Keep it froni ]\[iss EfQe. Cannot forgive myself for luiving spoken to her. Will you forgive me? It was the weakness of a moment: but even Chinamen have hearts. I could not die without telling her. — Ciiunc." I showed Effie the scrap afterwards — it had come with- out a line of explanation from Slianghao — and she has kept it ever since lockcnl up in her little desk as a sacred memento. T don't doul)t that some of tlieso days Effie will marry ; but as long as she lives she will bear the impress of what she lias suffered about poor Chung. An English girl could not conceivably marry a Chinaman ; but now that Chung is do;id, Ellio cannot help admiring the stead- fastness, the bravery, and the noble (jualities of her Chinese lover. It is an awful state of things which sometimes brings the nineteenth century and primitive barbarism into such close and horrible juxtaposition. F THE CURATE OF CITURNSIDE. \\'alti:ii 1)i:xi:, deacon, in liis fanltless Oxford clerical coat and Lroad felt hat, strolled along slowly, sunning himself as he went, after his wont, down the pretty central lane of AVest Churnside. It was just the idyllic village Lest suited to the tasto of such an idyllic young curate as Walter Dene. There were cottages with low-thatched roofs, thickly overgrown with yellow stonecrop and pink house- leek ; there were trellis-work porclies up which the scented dog-rose and the fainter honeysuckle clambered together in sisterly rivalry; there were pargeted gable-ends of 1:1 i/.abe than farmhouses, quaintly varied with black oak joists and moulded plaster panels. At the end of all, between an avenue of ancient eliu trees, the heavy square tower of the old church closed in the little vista — a church with a round Norman doorway and dog-tooth arches, melting into Early English lancets in the aisle, and finishing up with a great Decorated east window by the broken cross and yew tree. Not a trace of Perpendi- cularity about it anywhere, thank goodness : " for if it were rerpendicular," said Walter Dene to himself often, " I really think, in spite of my uncle, I shor'' ■" have to look out for another curacy." Yes, it was a charming village, and a charming country; but, above all, it was rendered habitable and pleasurable for a man of taste by the informing presence of Christina THE CURATE OF ClIUnXSIDi:. C7 Eliot. " I don't tliiiik I shall i)roposo to Clivistina this week uftor all," thong] it A\'altcr Dcno as ho strolled along lazily. ''The most dulightfiil part of h)vc-inaking is certainly its first beginning. Th(3 littlo tremor of hope and expectation ; the half-needless donht you feel as to Avhether she really loves you; the pains you talco to picrct' the thin A'cil of maidenly reserve ; ho triumph of detecting Jier at a blush or a ilutter Avhcn she sees you coming — all these aro delicate little morsels to ho rolled daintil}' on tho critical palate, and not to ho swallowed down coarsely at one vulgar gulp. Toor child, she is on tenter-h(joks of hesitation and expectancy all tho time, I know; for I'm sure sho loves mo now, I'm sure sho loves mo ; hut T must wait a week j^et : she will bo grateful to mo fur it here- ai'ter. "We mustn't Icill tho goose that lays the golden eggs ; we mustn't eat up all our capital at one extravagant feast, and tlnm lament the want of our interest ever afterward. Let us live another week in our first fool's paradise bcforo wo enter on tho safer but less tremulous pleasures of sure possession. We can enjoy first love but once in a lifetime ; let us enjoy it now while we can, and not fling away tho chance prematurely by mere childish haste and girlish precipitancy.** Thinking which thing, AValter JJeno halted a moment liy tho churchyard wall, picked a long spray of scented wild thyme from a mossy cranny, and gazed into tho blue sky above at the graceful swifts who nested in the old tower, as tliey curved and circled through the yielding air on their evenly poised and powerful pinions. Just at that moment old Mary Ijong came out of her cottage to speak with the young parson. " If ye plazc, Maister Dene," she said in licr native west-country dialect, "our Nully would like to zee 'ee. She's main ill to-day, zur, and sho be like to die a'most, I'm thinldnu'." "Poor child, poor child," said Walter Deno tender]}-. " {She's a dear little thing, Mrs. Long, is your Nellie, and I C8 STRANai: STORIES. liopo .sliomny yd he spared to you. I'll coino and sco licr at onco, and try if I can do anythinji; to case her." He crossed tlic road compassionately with the tottering old grandmother, giving; her his helping hand over the herhstonc, and iul lowing her with hated breath into the close little sick-room. Then he ilnng ope7i the tiny case- ment with its diamond-leaded panes, so as to let in the fresh snmmer air, and picked a few sprigs of sweet-briar from the porch, which he joined with the geranium from his own hutton-holo to make a tiny nosogaj' for the bare bedside. After that, he sat and talked awhile gently in an undertone to pale. ])rctty little Nellie herself, and went away at last promising to send her some jelly and some soup immediately from the vicarage kitchen. " She's a sweet little child," ho sai-l to himself musincrly, " thougli I'm af]'aid she's not long for this world now ; and the poor liko these small attentions dearly. They get them seldom, and value them for tlie sake of the thoughtfulness they imply, rather than for the sake of the mere things themselves. 1 can order a bottle of calf's-foot at the grocers, and Carter can set it in a mould witliout any trouble ; while as for the soup, some tinned mock- turtle and a little fi'esh stock makes a really capital mixture for this sort of thing. It costs so little to give these poor so.uls pleasure, and it is a great luxury' to oneself undeniabl}'. But, after all, what a funny trade it is to set an educated man to do ! They send us up to Oxford or Cambridge, give r.s a distinct taste for ^Eschylus and Catullus, Dante ai d 3Iilton, Mendelssohn and (Uiopin, good claret and olires fmrJes, and then bring us down to a country village, to look after the bodily and spiritual ailments of rheumatic old washerwomen ! If it wcro not for poetry, flowers, and Christina, I really think I should succumb enth'ely under the infliction." " lie's a dear, good man, that he is, is young passon," murmured old i\I;iry Long as "Walter disappeared between Tin: ci:uATi: of ciiunxsw::. ca ilio clni trees ; " and ho do love tlie poor and tlic ziclc, tlio same as if he was their own hrother. God 1 less his zoul, the dear, good vuUa, vor all his kindness to our Nully." Halfway down the main lane AValter came across (.'hristina Eliot. As she saw liiui she smiled and coloured a little, and held cmt her small ;;lovcd hand prettily. AValter took it with a certain courtly and graceful fhivahy. "An exquisite day, Miss Eliot," he said ; "such a depth of sapphire in the sky, sucli a faint undertone of green on the clouds by the horizon, such a lovely liuunning of Lees over the flickering hot meadows ! On days like this, one feels that Schopenhauer is wrong after all, and that life is sometimes really worth living," "It seems to me often wortli living," Christina answered; "if not for oneself, at least for others. Eut you pretend to bo more of a })essimist than you really are, .1 fancy, Mr. Dene. Any one Avho finds so much liuauty in the world as you do can hardly think life po(jr or meagre. You seem to catch the loveliest points in everything you look at, and to throw a little literary or artistic reflection over them which niakes them even lovelier than they arc in themselves." "AVell, no doubt one can increase one's possibilities of enjoyment by carefully cultivating one's own faculties of admiration and appreciation," said the curate thought- fully; "but, after all, lift,' has only a few ohai)ters that are thoroughly interesting and enthralling in all its Jiistory. Wo oughtn't to hurry over them too lightly, Miss Eliot ; we ought to linger on tliom lovingly", and make the most of their potentialities; wo ought to dwell upon them like " linked sweetness long drawn out." It is the mistake of the world at large to hurry too rapidly over the plcasiantest episodes, just as children pick all the plums at onco out of the pudding. I often think that, from the jjurdy selfish and temporal point of view, tlio real value of a life to its subject may bo measured by the 70 SmANGE STOJlIh'S. cipacc of tliiio over which he has managed to spread the- onjoyinont of its greatest pleasures. Look, for examph', at poetry, now." A faint shade of disappointniorit passed across Chris- tina's face as he turned from what seemed another groove into that indifferent suhjeet ; but sh.c answered at once, " Yes, of course one feeh; that witli the higher pleasures at least; hut there are others in whicli the interest of plot is greater, and then one looks naturally rather to the end. When you hegin a good novel, yon can't help hurrying througli it in order to find out what Lecomes of everybody at last." " Ah, but the highest artistic interest goes l)eyond mero plot interest. I like rather to read for tlie pleasure of reading, and to loiter over the passages that please me, quite irrespective of what goes before or what comes after ; just as you, for your part, like to sketch a beautiful scene for its own worth to you, irrespective of what may happen to the leaves in autumn, or to the cottage roof in twenty years from this. By the way, have you finished that little water-colour of the mill yet? It's the iirettiest thing of 3'ours I've ever seen, and I ■want to look how you'vo managed the light on your foreground." "Come in and see it," said Christina. "It's finished now, and, to tell you the truth, I'm very well pleased with it myself." " Then I know it must be good," the curate answered ; " for you are always your own harshest critic." And ho turned in at the little gate with her, and entered the village doctor's tiny drawing-room. Christina placed the sketch on an easel near the window — a low Avindow opening to the ground, with long lithe festoons of faint-scented jasmine encroaching on it from outside — and let the light fall on it aslant in the right direction. It was a pretty and a clever sketch certainly, with more than a mero amateur's sense of form and colour ; THE run AT i: of cnvRXSinj:. 71 and Walter Dene, Avho had a tnio eye for pictures, conlil conscientiouisly praise it fur its artistic depth and fnlnes"^. Indeed, on that head at least, Walter J)ene'ri veracity ■was uninipeachal)lc, however lax in otlier matters; nothing on earth would have induced him to praise as good a picture or a sculpture iu which ho saw no real merit, lie sat a little while criticizing and discrssing it, suggesting an imi)rovement hero or an alteration there, and then he rose hurriedly, rememhering all at once liis forgotten promise to little Nellie. "Dear me," ho said, " your daughter's picture has almost made me overlook my proper duties, Mrs. Eliot. I promis(Hl to send some jcll}^ and things at once to poor little Nellie Long at her grandmother's. ITovv very wrong of me to let my natural inclinations keep mo loitering here, when I ought to have been thinking of the poor of my parish ! " And he went out with just a gentle pressure on CJiristina's hand, and a look from his eyes that her heart knew how to read ailght, at the first glance of it. " Do you know, Cliristle," said her father, " I sometimes fancy when I hear that, new parson fellow tulk about his artistic feelings, and so on, that he"s just atrillc selfish, or at least self-centred. He always dwells so much on his own enjojnnent of things, you know." " Oh no, papa," cried Christina warmly. " He's any- thing but selfish, I'm sure.' Look how kind he is to all the poor in the village, and how much he thinks about their comfort and welfare. And whenever he's talking with one, ho seems so anxious to make you feel happy and contented with vourself. He has a sort of little subtle flattery of manner about him that's all puro kindliness ; and he's always thinking what he can say or do to plea>o you, and to help you onward AVhat you say about his dwelling on enjoyment so much is really only his artistic sensibilit}'. He feels things so keenly, and enjoys beauty so deeply, that he can't help talking enthusiastically about 72 STIiANGi: STORIES. it even a little out of season. Ho has more feelings to dis[)liiy tliau most men, and I'm sure tlial's the reason wliy lie (li.si)l;iyH tlieiti so niueli. A i)longliooy could (jnly talk entliusiaslieally al)ont roast Leef and dumplings; Mr. Done can talk ahout everything that's Leautii'ul and sublime on earth or in heaven." Meanwhile, Walter Dene \vas walking (piiokly with his measured tread — the even, regular tread of a cultivated gentleman — down the luno toward the village grocer's, saying to himself as ho went, " There was never sueh a girl in all the M'orld as my Christina. She may ho only a country surgeon's daughter — a rosehud on a hedgerow Lush — hut she has the soul and the oyo of a (|ueen among women for all that. Every lover lias deceived himself with the same sweet dream, to he sure — how over-analytic ■we have become nowadays, when I must needs half argue mj'self out of the sweets of first love ! — but then they liadn't so much to go upon as I have. She has a wonderful touch in music, she lias an exquisite eye in painting, ahe has an Italian charm in manner and conversation. I'm something of a connoisseur, after all, and no more likely to bo deceived in a woman than I am in a wino or a picture. And next week 1 shall really propose formally to Christina, though I know by this time it will bo nothing more than the merest formality. Iler eyes arc too eloquent not to have told me that long ago. It will bo a delightful pleasure to live for her, and in order to make her ha])py. I frankly recognize that I am naturally a little selfish — not coai'sely and vulgarly selfish ; from that disgusting and piggish vice I may conscientiously con- gratulate myself that I'm fairly free ; but still selfish in a refined and cultivated manner. Now, living with Chris- tina and for Christina will correct this defect in my nature, will tend to bring me nearer to a true standard of perfection. When I am by her side, and then only, I feel that I am thinking entirely of her. and not at all of THE CUUATi: OF (JllUUSSlUE. 73 mysolf. To her I sliou- my Lost sulo ; witli l.or, tliat best side would Lo always uppermost. The companiousliip of such a woman makes life something purer, and hin;her, and Letter worth havin- The one thing that stands iii. g, and I can't marry on my own paltry income and my curacy only. Yet I can't bear to keep Clnistnia waiting indefinitely till some thick-headed squire or other chooses to take it into his opaque brain to 'i;ivo mo a decent liviii<'*.*' From the grocer's the curate walked on, carrying the two tins in his hand, as far as the vicarage. He went •Jiito the library, sat down by his own desk, and rang the bell. " AVill you bo kind enough to give those things to Carter, John ?" ho said in his l)]and voice ; " and tell her to put the jelly in a mould, and let it set. The soup must be warmed with a little fresh stock, and seasoned. Then take them both, witli my compliments, to old Mary Long the washerwt)man, for her grandchild. Is my uncle in ? '' "No, Master Walter," answered the man — ho was always "Master Walter" to the old servants at his uncle's — " the vicar have gone over by train to Chtir- minster. Ho told me to tell you he wouldn't bo back till evening, after dinner." " Did you see him off, John ? " "Yes, Master "Walter. I took his portmantevv to the station." "This will be a good chance, then," thought Walter Dene to himself. " Very well, John," ho went on aloud : "I shall Avrite my sermon now. Don't let anybody come to disturb uio." John nodded and withdrew. AValtcr Dene locked the door after him carefully, as ho often did when writing sermons, and then lit a cigar, which was also a not in- frequent concomitant of his exegotical labours. After 71 STItAXar: SIOUTEfi. that lio walkod onco 'or twico \\\) and down the room, pansed a moment to look at his parchment-covered IJaLelais and Villon on tlio l)Ookslieir, peered out of tlio dulled L;lass windows with the crt'st in their centre, and finallj' drew a curious bent iron iiistrument out of his waistcoat pocket. AV'^ith it in his hands, ho went np (piietly to his nncle's desk, and hegan fuud)linf^ at the lock in an ex- perienced manner. As a matter of fact, it was not his iirst trial of skill in lock-pickin<; ; for ^\'alter Dcno was a jiainstakiu!^ and methodical man, and haviuo- made np his mind that ho would i^et at and read his nude's will, ho took good caro to begin by fastening all the drawers in his own bedroom, and trying his prenfico hand at uu- fastouing them again in the solitude of his chamber. After half a minute's twisting and turning, the wards gave way gently to his dexterous pressure, and tho lid of the desk lay open before him. AValter Dene took out the diderent papers ono by one — there was no need for hurry, and ho was not a nervous person — till he camo to a roll of parchment, which ho recognized at onco as tho expected will, lie unroUel it carefully and qnietl}', without any womanish trembling or excitement — "thank Heaven," Ik* said to himself, '"I'm a1)ovo such nonscnso as that" — and sat tlown leisurely to read it in the big, low, velvet-covered study chair. As ho did so, he did not foiget to lay a notched foot- rest for his feet, and to put the little Jajianeso dish on tho tiny table by his side to hold his cigar ash. *' And now," ho said, " for the important (piestion wliethor Undo Arthur has left his money to me, or to Arthur, or to both of us equally. lie ought, of course, to leave at least half to me, seeing I have become a curato on purpose to pleaso him, instead of following my natural vocation to the liar ; but I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he had left it all to Arthur. He's a pig-headed and illogical old man, tho vicar ; and he can never forgive me, I believe, because, being tho eldest son, I wasn't called after him by my THE nun ATI: of CHUILSSIDE. y^y fatlicr and motlier. As if fl.at .vas my fanlf ' Soinr people's „loas oi-persMnal responsibility aro so riclicnlously IIo composoa lii.uself quietly in Iho an.iclmir, ami f^^lancea rapidly at the will tliron-h the moanin-less pre- liminaries till he came to the si-nidcant clauses. These he rea.l more carefully. - All my estate in tho county of Dfjrsct, and the messna,ojo or tenement known as Hedlands m the parish of Lode, in the county of Devon, to my dear nephew, Arthur Dene," ho said to himself slowly • "Oh this will never do." - And I give and l.eqneath to my said' nephew, Artlnir Dene, the sum of ten thousand poun^^s three per cent, consolidated annuities, now standino- in my name "-"Oh tliis is atrocious, .piito atrocious! What's this?" "And I give and bequeath to my dear nejihew, AV;iltcr Dene, the residue of my personal estate"— "and so fortli. Oh no. ^i'hat's quite sufficient. This mnst bo rectified. Tho residuary legatee would only come in for a ^qw hundreds or so. It's cpiito preposterous. Tho vicar was always an ill-tempered, cantankerous, un- accountable person, but I wonder ho has tho face to sit opposite mo at dinner after that." lie hnmmed an air from Sclinbert, and sat a moment looking thoughtfully at tho will. Then he said to himself qnietly, " The simplest thing to do would be merely to scrape out or tako out wifh chemicals the name Arthur, substituting tho name Walter, and vice vm-m. That's a very small matter; a man who draws as well as I do ought to be able easily to imitate a copying clerk's en- grossing hand. But it would be madness to attempt it now and here ; I Avant a little practice first. At tho same time, I mustn't keep the will out a moment longer than is necessary ;^ my uncle may return by some accident before I expect him ; and tho true philosophy of life consists in invariably minimizing the adverse chances. This will was evidently drawn up by Watson and Blenkiron, of 70 STIIANGE STORIES. Chancery Lane. I'll write to-morrow and got them to draw up a will for me, leaving all I possess to Artliur. The same clerk is pretty sure to engross it, and that'll give mo a moilel for the two names on which I can do a little preliminary practice. Besides, I can try the stuff Wharton told me ahout, for luaking ink fade on the same parchment. Tliat will he killing two birds with one stone, certainly. And now if I dtm't make haste I shan't have time to write my sermon."' lie replaced the will calmly in the desk, fastened the lock again with a delicate twirl of the pick, and sat down in his armchair to compose his discourse for to-morrow's evensong. " It's not a bad bit of rhetoric," ho said to himself as ho read it over for correction, " but I'm not sure that I haven't plagiarized a little too freely from Montaigne and dear old Burton. What a pity it must be thrown away upon a Churnside congregation ! Not a soul in the whole place will appreciate a word of it, except (,'hristina. Well, well, that aloiio is enough reward for any man." And he knocked off his ash pensively into the Japanese ash-pan. During the course of the next week Walter practised diligently the art of imitating handwriting. lie got his will drawn up and engrossed at Watson and Blenkiron's (without signing it, bien cntcndu) ; and he spent manj' solitary hours in writing the two names " Walter " and " Arthur " on the spare end of parchment, after the manner of the engrossing clerk. lie also tested the stuff" for making the ink fade to his own perfect satisfaction. And on the next occasion when his uncle was safely off the premises for three hours, he took the will once nioro deliberately from the desk, removed the obnoxious letters with hcrupulous care, and wrote in his own name in place of Arthur's, so that even tho engrossing clerk himself would hardly have known tho difterenco. " There," ho said to himself approvingly, as ho took down quiet old THE CURAT i: OF CIIVIINSIDE. 77 Gcorp;o ITerliort from tho shelf and sat down to enjoy an lionr'.s snioko uftov tho bnsiiiess was over, " that's ono f2;uod deed well done, anyhow. I have tho calm satiKfacti(jn of a clear conscience. Tho vicar's proposed arrangement was really most unfair ; I have substituted for it what Aristotle would havo rio;htlv called true distributive iustico. For though I've left all tho property to myself, by tho un- fortunate necessity of tho case, of course I won't take it all. I'll bo juster than tho vicar. Arthur shall have his fair share, which is more, I believe, than lic'd havo done for mo ; but I hate squalid money-grubl>ing. If brothers can't bo generous and T)rotherly to one another, what a wretched, sordid littlo life tin's of ours would really be!" Next Sunday morning tho vicar preached, and Walter sat looking up at him reflectively from his place in tho chancel. A beautiful clear-cut face, tho curate's, and seen to great advantage from tho doctor's pew, set off by tho white surplice, and upturned in quiet meditation towards tho elder priest in tho pulpit. Walter was revolving many things in his mind, and most of all one adverse chance which ho could not just then sec his way to mini- mize. Any day his undo might take it into his head to read over the will and discover the — ah, well, the recti- fication. AValter was a man of too much delicacy of feeling even to think of it to himself as a fraud or a for- gery. Then, again, tho vicar was not a very old man after all ; bo might livo for an indefinite jieriod, and Christina and himself might loso all tho best years of their life waiting for a useless person's natural reni.oval. "What a pity that tlireescoro was not tho utmost limit of human life ! For his own part, like tho Psalmist, "Walter had no dosiro to outlive his own highest tastes and powers of enjoyment. Ah, well, well, man's prerogative is to bettor and improve upon nature. If peopio do not die when they ought, then it becomes clearly necessary 78 STRANCE STOIilES. for pliilosopliically minded juniors to help tliem on tlieir "way artificially. It was an ugly necessity, certainly; AValter frankly recognized that fact from the very beginning, and ho shrank even from contemplating it; hut there was no other way out of the didficulty. The old man had always heon a selfish hacheh)r, with no lovo for anybody or anything on earth except his books, his coins, his garden, and his dinner; lie was growing tired of all except the last; would it not bo better for the world at hirge, on strict utilitarian principles, that he should go at once? True, such steps are usually to bo deprecated ; but the wiso man is a law unto himself, and instead of laying down the W(joden, hard-and-fast lines that make conventional morality so much a rule of thumb, he judges every indi- vidual case on its own particular merits. Here was Christina's ha[)piness and his own on the one hand, with many collateral advantages to other people, set in the scale against the feeble remnant of a selfish old man's days on the other. Walter Dean had a constituti(mal horror of taking life in any form, and especially of shed- ding blood; but ho flattered himself that if anything of the sort became clearly necessarj-, ho was not the man to shrink from taking the needful measures to ensure it, at any sacrifice of personal comfort. All through the next week Walter turned over tho subject in his own mind ; and the more ho thought about it, tho more the plan gained in defiiiitoncssand consistency as detail after detail suggested itself to him. First ho thought of poison. That was tho cleanest and neatest way of managing tho thing, ho considered; and it in- volved the least unpleasant consequences. To stick a knife (u- shoot a bullet into any sentient creature was a horrid and revolting act ; to put a little tasteless powder into a cup of coffee and let a man sleep oif his life quietly was really nothing more than helping hiiu involuntarily THE cm ATE OF CIIUJiNSIDE. 70 to a deliglit Till ciitliaiiasia. " I vish any one voiiltl ilo as much fur mo at his age, -witlioiit telliii<; mo ahoiit it," "Walter saiil to himself seriously. V>\\t then tho chances of detection \voukl bo much increased by usini; poison, and "Walter felt it an imperative duty to do nothin<; which Avonld expose Christina to tho shock of a discover}'. Sho would not SCO tho matter in tho same practical light as ho did; women never do; their morality is purely conven- tional, and a "wiso man will do nt)thing on earth to shake it. You cannot buy poison without tho risk of exciting question. Thero remained, then, only shooting or stab- bing. But shooting makes an awkward noise, and attracts attention at the moment ; so the ono thing possible was a knife, unpleasant as that conclusion seemed to all his moro delicate feelings. Having thus decided, "Wilter Dene proceeded to lay his plans with delibcrato caution, llo had no intention what- soever of being detected, though his method of action was simplicity itself. It was only bunglers and clumsy fools who got caught ; ho knew that a man of his intelligence and ability would not make %uch an idiot of himself as — well, as common ruffians always do. Ho took his (dd American bowie-knife, bought years ago as a curiosity, out of the drawer where it had lain so long. It was very rusty, l)ut it would bo safer to sharpen it, privately on his own bono and strop than to go asking for a new knife at a shoj) fur the express ])urposo of enabling tlie sho])mau after- wards to identify him. lie sharpened it for safety's sake during sermon-hour in tho library, witli tho door locked as usual. It took a long time to get off all the rust, and his arm got quickly tired. Ono morning as he was polish- ing away at it, he was stopped for a moment by a butterfly which flapped and fluttered against the dulled window- panes. " Poor thing," ho said to himself, " it will beat its feathery wings to pieces in its struggles ; " and ho put a vaso of Venetian glass on top of it, lifted the sash 80 STRANGE STOIilES. Ciiro fully, and let the creatnro fly away oiiisMe in the broad sinisliino. At tho same moment tlio vicar, who was .str(dlin<5 with his Kinj; (Jharlio on tho lawn, came up and looked in at tho window. Ifo coidd not havo seen in "before, because of tho dulled and painted diamonds. "That's a murderous-looking weapon, "Wally," ho saitl, with a smile, as his glance fell upon tho Lowic and hone. " What do you uso it for?" "Oh, it's an American liowie," "Waller answered care- lessly. " I hought it long ago for a curiosity, and now I'm sharpening it up to help me in carving that block of walnut wood." And ho ran his finger lightly along tho edge of the blade to test its keenness. AVhat a lucky thing that it was tho vicar himself, and not tho gardener! If ho had been caught by anybody else tho fact would havo been fatal evidence after all was over. " ]\Ie(iez-vous des papillons," ho hummed to himself, after Beranger, as he shut down the window. " One more butterfly, and I must give up tho game as useless." Meanwhile, as AValtcr meant to make a clean job of it — hacking and hewing clumsily was repulsive to all his finer feelings — ho began also to study carefully the anatomy of the human back. lie took down all tho books on tho sub- ject in the library, and by their aid discovered exaclly under which ribs the heart lay. A little observation of the vicar, compared with tho plates in Quain's " Anatomy," showed him precisely at what point in his clerical coat tho most vulnerable interstice was situated. " It's a horrid thing to havo to do," ho thought over and over again as ho planned it, " but it's tho only way to secure Christina's happiness." And so, by a certain bright Friday evening in August, "Walter Deno had fully comxdeted all his pre- parations. That afternoon as on all bright afternoons in summer, tho vicar went for a walk in tho grounds, attended only by little King Charlie. He was squire and parson at once TIIE cm ATE OF CUV UN SIDE. 81 in Clmrnsicle, and ho loved to nialco tho round of liis own estate. At a certain j;ato by Solljury Copso the vicar always baited to rest awhile, leaning on tho bar and looking at tho view across tho valley. It was a safe and lonely spot. Walter remained at home (\\q was to tako tho regular Friday evensong) and went into tho study by himself. After a while ho took his hat, not witliont tremblinir, strolled across the garden, and then made tho short cut. through tho copse, so as to meet tho vicar by tho gate. On his way ho heard the noiso of tho Dennings in tho farm opposite, out rabbit-shooting with their guns and ferrets in tho warren. His very soul shrank within him at tho sound of that brutal sport. " Great heavens ! " he said to himself, Avith a shudder ; " to think how I loathe and shrink from tho necessity of almost painlessly killing this one selfish old man for an obviously good reason, and those creatures thcro will go out massacring innocent animals with the aid of a hideous beast of prey, not only Avithout remorse, but actually by way of amusement ! J thank Heaven I am not oven as they are." Near tho gate he camo upon his uncle quietly and naturally, though it would be absurd to deny that at that supremo moment even Walter Dene's equable heart throbbed hard, and his breath w-ent and came tremulously. " Alone," he thought to himself, " and nobody near ; this is quite providential," using oven then, in thought, tho familiar phraseology of his profession. *• A lovely afternoon. Uncle Arthur," he said as com- posedly as he could, accurately measuring the spot on tho vicar's coat with his eye meanwhile. " The valley looks beautiful in this light." " Yes, a lovely afternoon, Wally, my boy, and an ex- (piisite glimpse down yonder into tho churchyard." As he spoke, Walter half leaned upon tho gate besido him, and adjusted the knife behind the vicar's back scienti- fically. Then, without a word more, in spite of a natural 82 STILINGE STOTiTn>!. shiinkinf^, lio drovo it homo up to tlio haft, with a terrihlo effort (if will, at the exact spot on the Lack that the books liad pointcil out to him. It was a painful thine; to do, but he did it carefully and well. The effect of Walter IJcno's scientific previHion was even more instantaneous than ho had anticipated. Without a single cry, without a sob or 11 contortion, the vicar's lifeless body fell over heavily by the side of the gate. It rulled down like a log into tho dry ditch beneath. Walter knelt trembling on the ground close by, felt the pulse for a moment to assure himself that his uncle was really dead, and having fully satisfied him- self on this all-important point, proceeded to draw tho knife neatly out of tho wound, lie had let it fall in tho body, in order to extricate it more easily afterward, and not risk pulling it out carelessly so as to get himself covered needlessly by tell-tale drops of blood, like ordinary clumsy assassins. Ihit ho had forgotten to reckon with little King Charlie. The dog jumped piteously upon tho body of his master, licked the wound with his tongue, and refused to allow "Walter to withdraw the knife. It would bo unsafe to leave it thero, for it might be recognized. " Minimize tho adverse chances," ho muttered still ; but thero was no inducing King Charlio to move. A strugglo might result in getting drops of blood upon his coat, and then, great heavens, what a terrible awakening for Chris- tina ! "Oh, Christina, Christina, Christina," ho siid to himself piteously, " it is for you only that I could ever have ventured to do this hideous thing." Tho blood was still oozing out of tho narrow slit, and saturating tho black coat, and Walter Deno with his delicate nerves could hardly bear to look upon it. At last he summoned up resolution to draw out the knife from the ugly wound, in spite of King Charlie, and as ho did so, oh, horror ! the little dog jumped at it, and cut his left fore-leg against the sharp edge deep to tho bone. Here was a pretty accident indeed ! If Walter Dene had been THE CURATE OF CUUIINSIDE. 83 a common heartless murderer ho would have .snatched nj) the knifo immediately, loft the poor lamo dojjj to watcli and hleed beside his dead master, and skulked ofT hurriedly from tho muto witness to his accomplished crime. But Walter was mado of very dillbrent mould from that ; ho could not lind it in his heart to leave a poor dumb animal wounded and bleeding for hours together, alone and im- tendcd. Just at first, indeed, ho tried sophistically to persuado himself his duty to Christina demanded that ho should go away at once, and never mind tho .suderings of a mere spaniel ; but his bettor nature told him the next moment that such sophisms were indefensible, and his humane instincts overcame even tho profound instinct of self preservation. lie sat down quietly beside tho warm corpse. "Thank goodness," ho said, with a .slight shiver of di.sgust, " I'm not one of those weak-minded jicoplc who are troubled by remorse. They would bo so overcome by terror at what they had done that they would want to run away from tho body immediately, at any price. But I don't think I could feel remorse. It is an incident of lower natures — natures that are capable of doing actions under one set of impulses, which they regret when another set comes uppermost in turn. That implies a want of balance, an imperfect co-ordination of parts and passions. Tho perfect character is consistent with itself; shame and repentance are confessions of weakness. For my part, I never do anything without having first deliberately decided that it is the best or the only thing to do ; and having so done it, I do not draw back like a girl from the necessary consequences of my own act. No fluttering or running away for me. Still, I must admit that all that blood does look very ghastly. Poor old gentleman ! I believe he really died almost without knowing it, and that is certainly a great comfort to one under the circumstances." He took King Charlie tenderly in his hands, without touching the wounded leg, and drew his pocket hand- 84 STIiAXCE STORIES. Iccrcliicf Koflly frDin lii.s pocket. "Poor licaslic," lie s.'iid aloud, holding- out tho cut linil) before hiui, "you are badly Jiurl, I'm alVa'ul ; but it wasn't my fault. Wo must see what wo can do for you." Then ho wrapped tho handkerchief dcfily around it, Avitliout letting any blood show throuf^h, pressed tho dog closo against his breast, and i)icked up tho knifo gingerly by the reeking handle. *' A fool of a fellow Avould throw it into tho river," ho thought, with a curl of his graceful lip. " They always dredge the river after these incidents. I shall just stick it down a hole in tho hed, was plenty of time for Joe to have ^^-ot to the gate by the short cut, and that ho did so everyliody at Churnsido felt morally certain. Indeed, a few years later a blood-stained bowie-knife was found in the hed^-o not far from the scene of the murder, and the gamekeeper " could almost 'a took his Bible oath he'd zcen just such a knife along o' Joe ITarley." That was not the end of Walter Dene's Quixotisms, however. When the will was read, it turned out that almost everything was left to the young parson ; and who could deserve it better, or spend it more charitably ? But AValter, though he would not for the world seem to cast any slight or disrespect upon his dear uncle's memt>rj% did not approve of customs of primogeniture, and felt bound to share the estate equally with his brotlior Arthur. " Strange," said the head of the firm of Watson and Blenkiron to himself, when he read the little paragraph about this generous conduct in the paper ; " I thought the instructions were to leave it to his nephew Arthur, not to his nephew W^alter ; but there, one forgets and confuses names of people that one does not know so easily." " Gracious goodness ! " thought the engrossing THE CURATE OF CmmXSlDE. Ol> clerk ; " snvoly it -vvas tlio other %vay on. I Avondor if I can have gone and copied the wrong names in tlio ^v^)no• places?" ]»ut in a Lig London Lnsiness, nol)ndy notes tlioso thing.s as tlicy would have been noted in (Imrnsido ; the vicar was always a changcal)le, pernickety, linlTy old fellow, and very likely lio had had a reverse Avill drawn np afterwards by his country lawyer. All tlic world only thought that AV'altor ]Jcno's generosity was really almost ridiculous, oven in a parson. When ho was married to Christina, six months afterwards, everybody t;aid so charming a girl was well mated with so excellent and admirable a husband. And he really did mako a very tender and loving husband and father. ('Jiristina believed in him alwaj's, for ho did his best to foster and keep alive her faith. ITo would have given up active clerical duty if :ho could, never having liked it (for ho was above hypocrisy), but Christina was against the project, and his bishop would not hear of it. The Church could ill allord to lose such a man. as Mr. Dene, the bishop said, in thcso troubled times ; and he begged him as a personal favour to accept the living of Churnsido, which was in his gift. P>ut Walter did not like the place, and asked for another living instead, which, being of less value — " so liko ]\Ir. Dene to think nothing of the temporalities," — the bishop even more graciously granted. lie has since published a small volume of dainty littlo j)oems on uncut paper, considered by some critics as rather pagan in tone lor a clergyman, but universally allowed to bo extremely graceful, the perfection of poetical form with much deli- cate mastery of poetical matter. And everybody knows that the author is almost certain to bo offered the first vacant canonry in his own cathedral. As for the littlo episode, he himself has almost forgotten all about it ; for those who think a murderer must feel remorse his whole life long, are trying to read their own emotional nature into the wholly dispassionate character of Walter Dcno. AiY EPISODE IX JUnil LIFE. Sir TTknry Vaudox, K.C.B., olcctrician to the Adnuialty, whoso title, as everybody knows, was ga/.ctteil fioinc six wcolcs since, is at this nic^nient tho yonngost living member of tho British knighlhood. lie is now only just thirty, and lie lias obtained his present high distinction by those remarkable inventions of his in tho matter of electrical signalling and lighthonso arrangements which have been so mucii talked about in Nature this year, and which gained him the gohl medal of tho Eoyal Society in 1881, Lady Vardon is one of tho yonngest and prettiest hostesses in London, and if you would care to hear the history of their courtship hero it is. When Harry Vardon left Oxford, only seven years ago, none of his friends could imagine what he meant by throwing up all his chances of University success. Tho son of a poor country parson in Devonsliire, who had strained his little income to the uttermost to send him to college, Vardon of Magdalen had done credit to his father and himself in all the schools. Ho gained the best demyship of his year ; got a first in classical mods. ; and then unaccountably took to reading science, in which he carried everything before him. At the end of his four years, ho walked into a scientific fellowship at Balliol as a matter of course ; and then, after twelve months' residence, ho suddenly surprised the world of AN EPISODE IN niGH LIFE. 101 Oxford by accepting a tutoivsliip to tho young Earl of Surrey, at (hat time, as you doubtless rcuicmbor, a minor, ajred about Kixteon. IJut Harry A'ardon bad <;ood reasons of bis own for taking tbis tutorsbip. Six niontbs after lio became a fellow of Balliol, tbo old vicar bad died unexpectedly, leaving bis only otber cbild, Editb, alone and unprovided for, as was iiideed natural ; fur tbo expenses of Hurry's coUego life bad (juito eaten up tbo meagro savings of twenty ycavr; at Little Hintou. In order to provide a liomo for Editb, it was neces.sary tbat Harry s^bould find sometbing or otber to do wbioli wonld bring in an immediate income. Scbool-mastering, tbat refuge of tho destitute graduate, was not niucb to bis mind ; and so when tbo senior tutor of Boniface wroto a little note to ask wbether he would cavo to accept the cbargo of a cub noblenuxn, as ho disrespectfully phrased it, Harry jumped at tbo olfer, and took the proposed salary of 400Z. a year with tbo greatest alacrity. Tliat would far nioro than sufiico for all Edith's simple needs, and he himself could live npon tbo proceeds of his fellowship, besides finding time to continue bis electrical researches. For I will not disguise the fact that Harry only accepted tho cub noble- Tuan as a stop-gap, and that ho meant even then to make his fortune in the end by those splendid electrical dis- coveries which will undoubtedly immortalize his name in future ages. It was summer term when the appointment was made ; and the Surrey people (who were poor for their station) had just gone down to Colyford Abbey, the family seat, in the valley of the Axe near Seaton. You have visited tho house, I dare say — open to visitors every Tuesday, when the family is absent — a fine somewhat modernized man- sion, with somo good perpendicular work about it still, in spite of the havoc wrought in it by Inigo Jones, who converted the chapel and refectory of the old Cistercians 102 JSTnANCiE STOIUES. into a Lanquetini^-liall and Lallroom for tlio first Lortl Surrey of tliu present creation. It was lovely weather when Harry VarJon went down there ; and the Ahbey, and the terrace, and the park, and the heantil'ul valley beyond were looking their very Lest. Harry fell in lovo with the view at once, and almost fell in lovo with the inmates too at tho first glance. Lady Surrey, the mother, was sitting on a garden scat in i'ronl of the house as tho carri.igc which met him at Colyford station drin'o up to tlio door. iSho was much younger and more heautiful than Harry had at all expected. He had pictured the dowager to himself as a stately old lady of sixty, with white hair and a grand manner : instead of whicli ho found himself face to face with a well-preserved heauty of something less than forty, not above medium height, and still strikingly pretty in a round-faced, mature, hut very delicate fashion. Sho had Avavy chestnut hair, regular features, an exquisite set of pearly teeth, full cheeks whose natural roses wore perhaps just a trifle increased by not wholly ringracefiil art, and above all a lovely complexion quite unspoilt as yet by years. She was dressed as such a person should be dressed, with no afTectation of girlislmess, Imt in the stylo that best shows off ripe beauty and a womanly figure. Harry was always a very impressionable fellow; and I really believe that if Lady Surrey had been alono ho would have f illen over head and ears in lovo with her at first sight. But there was something which kept him from falling in love at once Avith Lady Surrey, and that was tho girl who sat half reclining on a tiger-skin at her feet, with a little sketching tablet on her lap. Ho could hardly tako full stock of the mother because ho was so busy looking at the daught'^r as well. I shall not attempt to describe Lady Gladys Hurant; all pretty girls fall under ono of Kome half-dozen heads, and description at best can reallv .LY EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. lO:; do no moro llian classify them. Lady Gladys belonged to the tall ai5d i^raccfnl aristocratic class, and she was a .good specimen of the typo at seventeen. Not that Harry A'ardou fell in love with her at once; he was really in the plcasin<;- condition of Captain Macheath, too much engaged in look- ing at two pretty w-omen to be capable even mentally of making a choice between them. IMother and daughter were both almost equally beautiful, each in her own distinct stylo. The countess half rose to greet him — it is condescension on the part of a countess to notice the tutor at all, I belivc; but though I am no lover of lords myself, I will do the Durants the justice to say tliat their treatment of Harry was always the vei'y kindliest that could possibly bo expected from people of their ideas and traditions. "]\Ir. A^ardon?" she said intcrrcgatively, as she held out her hand to tho new tutor. Harry bowed assent. " I'm glad you have such a lovely day to make your first acquaintance with Colyford. It's a pretty place, isn't it? Gladys, this is Mr. Vardon, wlio is kindly going to take charge of Surrey for us." " I'm afraid you don't know what you'ro going to undertake," said Gladys, smiling and holding out her hand. " He's a dreadful pickle. Do you know this part of tho world before, Mr. Vardon?" "Not just hereabouts," Harry answered; *' my fathers parish was in North Devon, but I know the greater part of tho county very well." " That's a good thing," said Gladys quickly ; " we're all Devc shire people here, and we believe in the county witli all our hearts. I wish Surrey took his title from it. It's so absurd to take your title from a place you don't care about only because you've got laud there. I love Devon- shire people best of any." " Mr. Vardon Avould probably like to see his rooms," said the countess. " Parker, will you show him up ? " 104 STIiANGE STOItlES. The rooms were everything that Harry could wish. There was a prettily furnished sitting-room for himself on the front, looking across the terrace, with a view of the valley and the sea in the distance; there was a study next door, for tutor and pupil to work in; there was a cheerful little bedroom behind ; and downstairs at the back there was the large bare room for which Harry had specially stipulated, wherein to put his electrical apparatus, for he meant to experiment and work busily at his own subject in his spare time. There was a sj)ccial servant, too, told off to wait upon him ; and altogether Harry felt that if only the social position could be made endurable, he could live very comfortably for a year or two at Colyford Abbey. There are some men who could never stand such a life at all. There are others who can stand it because they can stand anything. But Harry Vardon belonged to neither class. He was one of those who feel at home in most places, and who can get on in all societ like. In the first place, he was one of the handsomest fellows you ever saw, with large dark eyes, and that particular black moustache that no woman can ever resist. Then again ho was tall and had a good presence, which impressed even those most dangerous of critics for a private tutor, the footmen. Moreover, he was clever, chatty, and agreeable ; and it never entered into his head that he was not con- ferring some distinction upon the Surrey family by con- senting to be teacher to their young lordling — which, indeed, was after all the sober fact. The train was in a little before seven, and there was a bit of a drive from the station, so that Harry had only just had time to dress for dinner when the gong sounded. In the drawing-room he met his future pupil, a good- looking, high-spirited, but evidently lazy boy of sixteen. The family was alone, so the earl took down his mother, while Harry gave his arm to Lady Gladys. Before dinner ^.V EPISODE IN UIGU LIFE. 105 Avas over, the new tutor had taken the measure of the trio protty accurately. The countess was clever, that was certain ; she took an interest in hooks and in art, and she could talk lightly hut well upon most current topics in the easy sparkling stylo of a woman of the world. Gladys was clever too, though not hooky ; she was full of sketch- ing and music, and was delighted to hear that Harry could paint a little in water-colours, besides being the owner of a good violin. As to the bo}^ his fancy clearly ran for the most part to dogs, guns, and cricket; and indeed, though he was no doubt a very important per.-on as a future member of the British legislature, I think for the purposes of the present story, which is mainly con- cerned with Harry Vardon's fortunes, we may safely Icavo him out of consideration. Harry taught him as much as he could be induced to learn for an hour or two every ]uorning, and looked after him as far as possible when ho was anywhere within hearing throughout the rest of tlio day ; but as the lad was almost always out around tlio place somewhere with a gamekeeper or a stable-boy, he hardly entered practically into the current of Harry's life at all, outside the regular hours of study. As a matter of fact, he never learnt much from anybody or did anything worth speaking of; but he has since married a Birmingham heiress with a million or so of her own, and is now ^me of the most rising young members of tho House of Lords. After dinner, the countess showed Harry her excellent collection of Bartolozzis, and Harry, who knew something about them, showed the countess that she was wrong as to the authenticity of one or two among them. Then Gladys played passably well, and he sang a duet with her, in a way that made her feel a little ashamed of her own singing. And lastly Harry brought down his violin, at which the countess smiled a little, for she thought it audacious on the first evening ; but when he played ono lOG STIiAXGE STOniES. of liis best pieces .slio snnled again, for she had a good ear and a great deal of taste. After which tliey all retired to bed, and Gladys remarked to her maid, in the privacy of her own room, that the new tutor was a A-ery pleasant man, and quite a relief after such a stick as Mr. "Wilkinson. At breakfast next morning the party remained un- changed, but at luncli the two younger girls appeared upon tho scene, with their governess, Miss Martindalc. Though very different in typo from Gladys, Ethel j\Iartin- dale was in her way an equally pretty girl. She was small and mignonne, with delicate little hands, and a light pretty iigure, not too slight, but very gracefully propor- tioned. Her cheeks and chin were charmingly dimpled, and her complexion was just of that faintly-dark tino-e that one sees so often combined with light-brown hair and eyes in the moorland parts of Lancashire. Altogether, she was a perfect foil to Gladys, and it would have been difficult for almost any man as lie sat at that table to say which of tho three, mother, daughter, or governess, was really the prettiest. For my own part, I give my vote unreservedly for the countess, but then I am getting somewhat grizzled now and have long been bald ; so my liking turns naturally towards ripe beauty. I hate your self-conscious cliits of seventeen, who can only chat and giggle ; I like a woman who has something to say for herself. But Harry was just turned twenty-thi-ee, and perhaps liis choice might, not unnaturally, have gone otherwise. The governess talked little at lunch, and seemed alto- gether a rather subdued and timid girl. Harry noticed with pain that she appeared half afraid of speaking to anybody, and also that the footmen made a marked distinction between their manner to him and their manner to her. He would have liked once or twice to kick tho fellows for their insolence. After lunch, Gladys and tho AX EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. 107 littlo ones went for a stroll down towards the river, and Harry followed aftt^r with ]\Iiss Martindale. " Do yon come from this part of England ? " he asked. "Xo," answered Ethel, "I come from Lancashire. My father was rector of a small parish on the moors." Harry's heart smote him. It mitxht haA'o been Edith. "What a little turn of chance had made all the diiri'ienco ! " My father Avas a parson too," ho said, and then checked himself for the half-disresjiectfiil word, " but he lived down hero in ],)evonsliire. Do you like Colyford ? " " Oh yes, — the place, very much. There are delightful rambles, and Lady Gladys and I go out sketching a great deal. And it's a deliglitful country for flowers." The place, but not the life, thought Harry. Poor child, it must bo very hard for her. " Mr. A^ardon, come on here, I want you," called oiit Crladys from tlio little stone bridge. " You know every- thing. Can you tell me what this flower is?" and she held out a long spray of waving green-stufi'. " Caper spurge," said Harry, looking at it carelessly. " Oh no," j\liss Martindale put in quickly, " Portland spurge, surely." " So it is," Harry answercfl, looking closer. " Then you are a bit of a botanist, Mi^s IMartindalo ? " " Not a botanist, but very fond of the flowers." " Miss Martindale's always picking lots of ugly things and bringing them home," said Gladys laughingly; "aren't you, dear ? " Ethel smiled and nodded. So they went on past the bridge and out upon the opposite side, and back again by the little white railings into the park. For the next three months Harry enjoyed himself in a busy way immensely. Every morning he had his three hours' teaching, and every afternoon he went a walk, or fished in the river, or worked at his electrical machines. To the household at the Abbey such a man was a perfect 108 STRANGE STORIES. godsend. For he was a versatile fellow, able to turn his liaiid to anything, and the Durants lived in a very qniet way, and were glad of somebody to keep the house lively. The money was all tied up till the boy came of age, and oven then there wouldn't be much of it. Surrey had been sent to Eton for a month or two and then removed, by request, to prevent more violent measures ; after which ho was sent to two or three other schools, always with the same result. So he was brought home again and handed over to the domestic persuasion of a private tutor. The only thing that kept him moderately quiet was the pos- sibility of running around the place with the keepers ; and the only person who ever taught him auytliing was Harry Yardon, though even he, I must admit, did not succeed in impressing any very valuable lessons upon the lad's volatile brain. The countess saw few visitors, and so a man like Harry was a real acquisition to the little circle. lie was perpetually being wanted by everybody, everywhere, and at the end of three months ho was simply indispensable. Lady Surrey was always consulting him as to the proper place to plant the new wellingtonias, the right aspect for deodars, the best plan for mounting water-colours, and the correct date of all the neighbouring churches. It was so delightful to drive about with somebody who really under- stood the history and geology and anti(|uities of the county, she said ; and she began to develoiD an extraordinary Interest in prehistoric archaeology, and to listen patiently to Harrj'-'s disquisitions on the difference between long barrows and round barrows, or on the true nature of the earthworks that cap the top of Membury Hill. Harry for his part was quite ready to discourse volubly on all these subjects, for it was his hobby to impart information, whereof he had plenty ; and he liked knocking about the country, examining castles or churches, and laying down the law about matters architectural with much authority AX EPISODE h\ UIGII LIFE. 109 to two pretty women. TIio countess oven took an interest in his great electrical investigation, and came into his workshop to hear all about tlio uses of his mysterious batteries. As for Lady Gladys, she was for ever wanting Mr. Yardon's opinion abont the exact colour for that shadow by tho cottage, Mr. A^'ardon's aid in practising that difficult bit of Chopin, Mr. Vardou's counsel about the decorative treatment of tho passion-flower on that lovely piece of crewel-work. Indeed, contrary to Miss Martindale's express admonition, and all tho dictates of propriety, she was always running olf to Harry's littlo sitting-room to ask his advice about five hundred different things, five hundred times in every twenty-four hours. There was only one person in tho household who seemed at all shy of Harry, and that was Miss Martindale. Do what he could, he could never get her to feel at home with him. She seemed always anxious to keep out of his way, and never ready to join in any of his plans. This was annoying, because Harry really liked the poor girl and felt sorry for her lonely position. But as she would have nothing to say to him, why, thero was nothing else to be done ; so ho contented himself with being as polite to her as possible, while respecting her evident wish to bo let alone. One afternoon, when the four had been out for a drive together to visit the old ruins near Cowhayne, and Harr}- had been sketching Avith Gladys and lecturing to the countess to his heart's content, he was bitting on the bench by the red cedars, when to his surprise he saw the governess strolling carelessly across the terrace towards him. " j\[r. Vardon," she said, standing beside the bench, " I want to say something to you. You mustn't mind my saying it, but I feel it is part of my duty. Do you think you ought to pay so much attention to Gladys? You and I come into a family of this sort on peculiar terms, you know. They don't think wo are quite the ]C0 STEANGIJ STORIES. same sort of liunian Loiupjs as tlicnisolvcs. Xow, I'm ]ialf afraid — I don't like to say so, but I think it Ijcttcr I should say it than my hidy — I'm half afraid that Gladys is getting her licad too much filled with you. "Wliatever she does, j'ou are always Iiolping her. She is for ever running oir to see you ahout somethinp; or other. She is very young; she meets very few other men; and you have been extremely attontivo to lier. But when peojDlo like these admit you into 1hoir family, they do so on tlio tacit understanding that you will not do wluit they would call abusing the position. To-day, I half fancied that my lady looked at you once or twice when you were talking to Gladys, and I thought I would try to he bravo enough to sjieak to you about it. If I don't, I think she will." "Really, Miss jMartindale," said Ilarrj^ rising and walking by her side towards the laburnum alley, " I'm very glad you have unburdened your mind about this matter. For myself, you know, I don't acknowledge the obligation. I should marry any girl I liked, if she would have me, whatever her artificial position might be ; and I should never let any barriers of that sort stand in' my way. But I don't know that I have the slightest inten- tion of ever trying to marry Lady Gladys or anybody elso of the sort ; so wliile I remain undecided on that point, I shall do as you wish me. By the way, it strikes mo now that you have been trj'ing to keep her away from me as much as possible." " As part of my duty, I think I ought to do so. Yes." " Well, you may rely upon it, I will give you no more cause for anxiety," said Ilarr}^ ; " so the less wo sa}^ about it the better. AVliat a lovely sunset, and wliat a glorious colour on the cliffs at Axmouth I " And he walked down the alley with her two or three times, talking about various indifferent subjects. Somehow he had never managed to get on so well with her before. She was a very nice girl, he thought, really a very nice girl; .LV El'IbODE IN nwn LIFE. Ill what a pit}' slic wonltl nover tako any notice of liliii in any way! Jlowcver, lio enjoyed that qniot lialf-hour immensely, and was quite sorry when Lady Surrey camo out a little later and joined them, exactly as if she wanted to interrupt tlieir conversation. Jiut what a heautifiil woman Lady Surrey was too, as she carao across the lawn just then in her garden hat and the pale blue Umrit/ur shawl thrown loosely across hqr shapely shouhlors ! By Jove, she was as handsome a woman, after all, as he had ever seen. Aft(!r dinner that evening Lady Surrey sent Gladys off to jMiss ]\Iartindale's room on some small pretext, and then put Harry down on the sofa beside her to help in arranging those interminable ferns of hers. Evening dress suited the countess best, and she knew it. She was looking even more beautiful than before, with her hair prettily dressed, and the little simple turquoise necklet setting off her white neck ; and she talked a great deal to Harry, and was really very charming. No more fascin- ating widow, he thought, to bo found anywhere within a hundred miles. At last she stopped, leaning over the ferns, and sat back a little on the sofa, half fronting him. " Mr. Yardon," she said suddenly, " there is something I wish to speak to 3'ou about, privately." " Certainly," said Harry, half expecting the topic. "Do you know, I think you ought not to pay such marked attention to Lady Gladys. Two or three times I have fancied I noticed it, and have meant to mention it to you, but I thought it might be unnecessary. On many accounts, however, I think it is best not to let it pass any longer. The differcnco of station " "Excuse me," said Harry, "I'm sorry to differ from you, but I don't acknowledge differences of station." .; " Well," said the countess, in a conciliatory tone, "under certain circumstances that may bo perfectly correct. A young man in your position and with your 112 STRANCrE STOTiTES. talents has of courso tho whole world hcforo him. He can niako liiinsolf wliatevcr ho pleases. I don't thinlc, ^Ir. Vavdoii, I have over under-estlmatod tho worth of brains. I do feel that knowledjijo and cnltnre arc nmch greater things after all than mcro position. Now, in justice to me, don't you think I do ? " Harry looked at her — sho was really a very beautiful woman — and tlien said, " Yes, I think you have certainly better and moro rational tastes than most other people- circumstanced as you are." " I'm so glad you do," tho countess answered, heartily. *' T don't caro for a life of perfect frivolity and fashion, such as one gets in London. If it were not for Gladys's sake I sometimes think I would give it up entirely. Do you know, I often wish my life had been cast very difler- ently — cast among another sot of people from the people I have always mixed among. Whenever I meet clever people — literary peojilo and schdlars — I always feel so sorry I haven't moved all my life in their world. From one point of view, I quite recognize what you said just now, that these artificial distinctions should not exist between people who are really eq^uals in intellect and culture." " Naturally not," said Harry, to whom this proposition sounded like a familiar truism. " But in Lady Gladys's case, I feel I ought to guard her against seeing too much of anybody in particular just at present. Sho is only seventeen, and she is of courso impressionable. Now, you know a great many mothers would not have spoken to you as I do ; but I like you, Mr. Vardon, and I feel at homo with you. You will promise me not to pay so much attention to Gladys in future, won't you ? " As she looked at him full in tho face with her beautiful eyes, Harry felt ho could just then have promised her anything. " Yes," he said, " I will promise." ^.v EVisoDi: IS man ufe. 113 •'Tliaiik 3"ou,'' Kiiil tlio connlcss, loolcint; at iiiiu ji;2;aln ; "I am very iiiudi obliged U) you." And then fur a moment tlicro was an awkward paiiso, and tlioy Loth lonked lull into ono another's eyes without saying a word. In a minnto the countoss Logan again, and said a good many tilings ahoiit what a dreadful waste of life ]ieopl^ generally made ; and what a privilege it was to know elever people; and what a reality and purpose there was in tlujir lives. A great deal of this sort she said, and. in a low pL asant V(jicc. And then there was another awkward pause, and they looked, at ono another ouco more. Harry certainly thought tho conntcss very beautiful, and ho liked, her very much. She was really kind- hearted and friendly ; she was interested in tlic subjects that pleased him ; and she was after all a jirctty woman, still young as men connt youth, and very agreeable — nay, anxious to please. And then sho had said what she said about tho artificiality of ela.ss distinctions so markedly and pointedly, with such a coiuinentary from her eyes, that Harry half fancied — wcdl, I don't quite know what ho fancied. As ho sat there beside her on the sofa, with tho ferns before him, looking straight into her eyes, and sho into his, it must bo clear to all my readers that if ho had any special proposition to make to her on any abstract subject of human speculation, tho timo had obviuu>ly ariived to make it. But some- thing or other inscrutablo kept him back. "Lady Surrey " he said, and tho words stuck in his throat. "Yes." sho answered softly. "Shall .... shall wo go on with tho ferns ? " Lady Surrey gave a littlo short breath, brought back her eyes Irom dreamland, and turned with a sudden smilo back to the portfolio. For tho rest of tho evening, tho candid historian must admit that they both felt liko a pair of fools. Conversation I 114 STIiAXaE STOllIi:S. lagged, and I don't tliinlc oitlicr of tbom was sorry when tho time came for retiring. It is useless for tlic clunisynialo psychologist to protend that ho can sco into tho heart of a woman, cspcciall}' when tho normal action of said heart is coniiilieatcd hy such queer conventionalities as that of a countess who feels a distinct liking for hor son's tutor: hut if I may vcnturo to attempt that impossiMo feat of clairvoyanco without rchnkc, I should ho inclined to diagnose Lady Surrey's condition as sho lay sleepless for an hour or so on her pillow that night somewhat as follows. iSlic thought that Harry Vardon was really a very clever and a very pleasant fellow. iSho thought that men in society wcro generally dreadfully empty-headed and horrihly vain. iSho thought that tho imp.so she positively was. Next morning, after breakfast, Lady Suirey sent for rjladys to como to lier in her houduir. 'i'hen she pnt her daughter in a chair hy tho window, drew hor own eloso to it, laid her hand kindly on her shoulder — slio was a nico little woman at heart, was tho countess — and said to her gently, "^^ly dear (Jladys, there's a little matter I want to talk to you ahout. You aro still very young, you know, dear; and I Ihiidc you ought to bo very careful about not letting your feelings bo played upon in any way, however unconsciously. Xow, you walk und talk a great deal too much, dear, with j\[r. Vardon. In many ways, it would bo well ihat yon should. Mr. Vardon is very clever, and very well informed, and a very instructive companion. 1 like you to talk to intelligent people, and to hear intelligent people talk ; it gives you something that mere books can never give. But you know, ( iladys, you should always remember tho disparity in yt)ur stations. I don't deny that there's a jrreat deal in all that sort of thing that's very conventional and absurd, my dear ; but still, girls are girls, and if they're thrown too much with any one young man " — Lady Surrey was going to add, "especially when he's handsome and agreeable," but she checked herself in time — "they're very apt to form an attection for him. Of course I'm not suggesting that you'ro likely to da anything of tho sort with Mr. Vardon — I don't for a moment su})poso you \vould — but a girl can never bo too careful. I hope you know your position too well ; " hero Lady Surrey was conscious of certain internal qualms ; "and indeed whether it was Mr. Vardon or anybody else, you aro much too young to fill your head with such notions at your age. Of course, if somo really good oiler had been made to you even in your first season lltf STRANGE STOETES. — sny Lord St. Ives or Sir Montanjnc — I don't say it might not Imvo hvon prudent to accept it; Init under ordinary circumstances, a giid docs best to think as little as iiossiblo about such tliii)g-s until sho is twenty at least. However, I hope in future you'll remembor that I don't wish you to bo quite so familiar in your intercourse with I\Ir. Vardon." " Very well, mamuui," said Gladys quietly, drawing her- self up ; " I have heard what you want to say, and I shall try to do as you wisli. But I should liko to say some- thing in return, if you'll bo so kind as to listen to mo." "Certainly, darling,"' Lady Surrey answered, with a vague foreboding of sometliing wrong. " I don't say I care any moro for jMr. Vardon than for anybody else ; I liaven't scon enough of him to know whetlier I caro for him or not. But if ever I do caro for anybody, it will bo for somebody like him, and not for somebody liko Lord St. Ives or Monty Fit/roy. I don't liko the men I meet in town ; they all talk to us as if wo were dolls or babies. I don't want to marry a man who says to himself, as Surrey says already, ' Ah, I shall look out for some rich girl or other and make her a countess, if slio's a good girl, and if sho suits me.' I'd rather have a man like i\Ir. Vardon than any of the men wc ever meet in London." " But, my darling," said Lady Surrey', quite alarmed at Gladys' too serious tone, " surely there aro gentlemen quite as clover and quite as intellectual as i\[r. Vardon." " ]\Iamraa ! " cried Gladys, rising, " do you mean to say ]\[r. Vardon is not a gentleman ? " " Gladys, Gladys ! sit down, dear. Don't get so excited, or course he is. I trust I havo as great a i-espect as any- body for talent and culture. But what I meant to say Avas this — can't j'ou find as much talent and culture among people of our own station as — as among people of Mr. Vai don's?" AN El' ISO I) E IX man life. 117 *'No," said (Jladys sliortly. " lic.'iily, my dear, you arc too liaixl upon tlio peerage." " Well, mamma, can you mGulion any one that uc know who is? " asked tho peremptory girL " Not exactly in our own set," said Lady Surrey hesita- tingly; "but surely there must ho some." " I don't know them," Gladys replied quietly, " and till I do know them, I shall remain of my own opinion still. If you wish nio not to sec so much of Mr. Vartlon, I shall try to do as you say; hut if I Imppen to like any particular person, whether he's a puer or a pLjughhoy, I can't help liking him, so thei'c's an end of it." And CJladys kissed her mother demurely on tho forehead, and Avalked with a atatoly sweep out of tho room. "It's perfectly clear," said Lady Surrey to herself, "that that girl's in lovo with Mr. Ycirdon, and what on earth I'm to do about it is to me a mystery." And indeed Lady Surrey's position was by no means an easy one. On the one hand, she felt that whatever she herself, who was a })e;son of mature years, might liappcn to do, it would be positively wicked in her to allow a young girl like Gladys to throw herself away on a man in Harry Yardon's position. Without any sliadow of an arro-re jjensec, that was her genuine feeling as a mother and a member of society. But then, on the other hand, how could slio oppose it, if she really ever thouglit herself, even conditionally, of marrying Harry Yardon ? Could she endure that her daughter should think she had acted as hor rival? Gould she press the point about Harry's conventional disadvan- tages, when she herself had some vague idea that if Harry offered himself as Gladys' step-father, she would not bo wholly disinclined to consider his proposal ? (?ould she set it down as a crime in her daughter to form tho vcr^^ SLdf-same affection which she herself had woU-iiigh formed? Moreover, she couldn't help feeling in her heart that Gladys was right, after all; and that the daughter's dellanco of 118 STn.lXGE STORIES. conventionality ^vas impliciily inherited from tlio motli6r. If .she had met Harry Vardoii twenty years ago, she wouhl liavo thought and spoken much like Ghidys ; in fact, though she didn't speak, she thought so, very nearly, even now. I am sorr}' that I am ohliged to write out these faint out- lines of idfas in all the hrutal plainness of the English lan- guage as spoken by men ; I cannot give all those fmo shades of unspoken reservations and womanly self-decoptive sub- terfuges by which the poor little countess half disguised her own mcaiiing even from iierself ; but at least you will not bo surprised to hear that in the end she lay down on the little couch in the corner, covered her face Avith chagrin and disappointment, and had a good cr}'. Then she got up an hour later, washed her eyes carefully to take off the redness, put on her pretty dove- coloured morning gown with the lace trimming — she looked charming in lace — and went down smiling to lunch, as pleasant and cheery a little widow of thirty-seven as over you would wisli to see. Upon my soul, Harry Vardon, I really almost think you will be a fool if you don't finally marry the countess ! " Gladys," said little Lord tSurrey to his sister that evening, when she came into his room on her Avay upstairs to bed — "Gladys, it's my opinion you're getting too sweet on this fellow Yardon." "I shall bo obliged, Surrey, if j'^ou'll mind your own business, and allow me to mind mine." " Oh, it's no use coming the high and mighty over me, I can tell you, so don't you try it on. Besides, I have some- thing I want to speak to y< n about particularly. It's my opinion also that my lady's doing the very same thing." "What nonsense, Surrey!" cried Gladys, colouring up to her eyebrows in a second : " how dare you say such a thing about mamma?" But a light broke in upon her suddenly all the same, and a number of little unnoticed circumstances flashed back at once upon her memory witli a fresh flood of meaning. AX KVISOBE IN HIGH LIFE. U'J *' Nonsense or not, it's true, I know ; and wliat I want to say to YOU is this— If old Vardon s to many either of you, it ouj^lit toLo you, because that would save mamma at any rate Som making a fool of herself. As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather neither (jf you did ; for I don't see why either of you should want to marry a beggarly fellow of a tutor" —Gladys' eyes flashed fire— " tdiough Vardon's a decent enough chap in his way, if that was all ; but at any rate, as one or other of you's cock-sure to do it, I don't want him for a step-father. So you see, as far as that goes, I back the filly. Now, say no more about it, but go to bed like a good girl, and mind, whatever you do, you don't forget to say your prayers. Good night, old girl." " I wouldn't marry a fellow like Surrey," said Gladys to herself, as she went upstairs, "no, not if he was the premier duke of England ! " For tho next three weeks there was snch a comedy of errors and cross-purposes at Colyford Abbey as was never seen before anywhere outside of one of IMr. Gilbert's clever extravaganzas. Lady Surrey tried to keep Gladys in every posbiblo way out of Harry's sight ; while her brother tried in every possible way to throw them together. Gladys on her part half avoided him, and yet grew some- what more confidential than ever whenever she happened to talk with him. Harry did not feel quite so much at home as before with Lady Surrey ; he had an uncomfortable sense that ho had failed to acquit himself as he ought to have done ; while Lady Surrey had a half suspicion tliat she had let him see her unfledged secret a little too early and too openly. The natural consequence of all this was that Harry was cast far more than before upon tho society of Ethel ]\Iartindale, with whom he often strolled ab(nit tho shrubbery till very close upon the dressing gong. Ethel did not come down to dinner — she dined with tho little ones at the family luncheon ; and that horrid galling distinction cut Harry to the quick every night when he 120 STRANGE STORIES. left Iicr to go in. Every clay, too, it began to dawn npon him more clearly that the vagiio reason whi(;h had kept liim hack from proposing to Lady Surrey on that eventful night Avas just this — that Ethel Martindalo had made her- self a certain vaeant niche in his unfurnishod heart. Sho was a dear, quiet, unassuming little girl, but so very grace- ful, so very tender, so very womanly, that slio crept into Ids affections unawares without possibility of resistance. The countess was a beautiful and accomplished woman of the world, with a real heart left in her still, but not quite the sort of tender, shrinking, girlish heart that Harry wanted. Gladys was a lovely girl with stately manners and a wonderfully formed character, but too great and too redolent of society fur Harry. Tie admired them both, each in her own way, but ho couldn't possibly have lived a lifetime with cither. But Ethel, dear, meek, pretty, gentle little Ethel — well, there, I'm not going to re^ieat for you all the raptures that Harry went into over that perennial and ever rejuvenescent theme. For, to toll you the truth, about three weeks after the night when Harry did not pro- pose to the countess, he actually did propose to Ethel 3Iartindalo. And Ethel, after many timid protests, after much demure self-depreciation and declaration of utter unworthiness for such a man — which made Harry wildwith indignation — did finally lot him put her little hand to his lips, and whispered a sort of broken and blushing " Yes." What a fool ho had been, he thought that evening, to suppose for half a second that Lady Surrey had ever meant to regard him in any other light than as her son's tutor. He hated himself for his own nonsensical vanity. "Who was ho that ho should fancy all the women in England were in love with him? Next morning's Tlmo.s contained that curious announce- ment about its being the intention of the Government to appoint an electrician to the Admiralty, and inviting ap- l)lications from distinguished men of science. Now Harry, AN EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. 121 youLj:; as ho was, had just porfoctccl his great system of the doublcrovolving cominut;itor and hack-action rheostat (ratcnt Office, No. 18,237,50-1:), and had sent in a paper on tho subject which had been road with groat success at tho Iioyal Society. The famous Pi'ofessor Brusegay hini^-elf had describrd it as a remarkable invention, likely to prove of immense practical importance to telegraphy and electrical science generally. So when Harry saw tho announcement that morning, ho made up his mind to apply for tho appointment at once ; and ho thought that if he got it, as the salary was a good one, ho miglit before long marry Ethel, and yet manage to keep Edilh in tho same comfort as before. Lady Surrey t-aw the paragraph too, and had her own ideas about what it might be made to do. It was tho very opening that Harry wanted, and if he got it, wliy then no doubt he might make tho proposal which he evidently lelt afraid to make, jioor fellow, in his present position. So yhe went into her boudoir immediately after breakfast, and wrote two careful and cautiously worded little notes. One was to Dr. Brusegay, whom she knew well, mentioning to him that her son's tutor was the author of that remarkable paper on commutators, and that she thought lie would probably be admirably fitted for the post, but that on that point the Professor himself was the best judge; the other ■was to her cousin, Lord Ardenleigh, who was a great man in the government of the day, suggesting casually tliat ho should look into thi3 claims of her frieiul, jMr. Vardon, for this new place at the Admiralty. Two nicer little notes, written with better tact and judgment, it would be difficult to find. At that very moment Harry was also sitting down in liis own room, after five minutes' consultation with Ethel, to make formal application for the new post. And after lunch the same day he spoke to Lady Surrey upon tho subject. 122 STRANGE STORIES. " Thoro is Olio spocial reason," he said, " wliy I sliould like to (;(avooii iny finders. I folt Avrotchod aiul fovoiisli : and yet I had di li^litful intorhisivo rccoUcc- ti(Jiis, in lirlwcon, of tliat lively littlo Gha/jyuli, who danced that oxqnisilo, iitarvelluns, cntvanninfr, dolicioiiM, and awfully oriental daneo that I saw in tho afternoon. By .r(jve, sho vas a hoautlful creature. Eyes like two full moons ; hair like ]\lilton's Penseroso ; moA'ements like a poem of Swinhnrnc's set to action. If Editha was only a faint i)ietMro of that j^irl now ! Upon my word, I was fallinjj; in love with a Ghaziyah ! Then the mosrpiitoes camo again. Bnzz — buzz — buzz. I make a lnn!2;o at tho loudest and bi,ii:gost, a sort of prima donna in their infernal opera. I kill tho prima donna, l)nt ton more shrill performers come in its place. Tho fro<:;s croak dismally in tho reedy shallows. The niglit grows hotter and hotter still. At last, I can stand it no longer. I rise up, dress m\\solf lightly, and jump ashore t(j iind some way of passing tho time. Yonder, across tho flat, lies tho great unopened Pyramid of Abu Yilla. AVe are going to-morrow to climb to tho -fop ; but I will take a turn to reconnoitre in that direction now. I walk across tho moonlit fields, ray soul still divided between Editha and tho Ghaziyah, and ai)proae]i tho solemn mass of huge, antiquated granite blocks standing out so grimly against tho palo horizon. I feel half awake, half asleep, and altogether feverish : but I i)okc about tho base in an aimless sort of way, with a vaguo idea that I may perhaps discover by chance the secret of its scaled entrance, which has ero now baffled so many pertinacious explorers and learned Egyptologists. As I walk along tho base, I remember old Herodotus's story, like a page from the " Arabian Nights," of how King Khampsinitus built himself a treasury, wherein one stono turned on a pivot like a door ; and how the builder availed MY NEW YEAR'S EVE AMONG THE MEMMIES. 12'J liirasc'lf of this his cnrmini; (lovico to steal cohl from tho Icing's storehouse. Suppose tlio oiitraTico ta the unopeiuHl Pyramid should ho by sncli a door. It wouhl ho curious if I shouhl clianco to light upon tho very spot. I stood in tho hroad moonlight, near the north-east anglo of tho great pile, at tho twelfth stono from tlio corner. A random fancy struck mo, that I might turn this stono hy pushing it inward on tlio left side. I leant against it with all my weight, and tried to move it on tho imaginary pivot. Did it givo Avay a fraction of an inch? ISo, it must havo been mcro fancy. Let mo try again. Surely it is yield- ing! Gracious Osiris, it has moved an inch or more ! My heart heats fast, either witli fovcr or cxcit'nuent, and I try a third time. Tho rust of centuries on tho pivot wears slowly off, and the stono turns ponderously round, giving access to a low dark passage. It must havo hccn madness which led mo to enter tho forgotten corridor, alone, without toi'eh or match, at that hour of tho evening; hut at any rato I entered. Tho passage was tall enough for a man to walk erect, and I could feci, as I groped slowly along, that the Avail was composed of smooth polished granite, while tho floor sloped away downward with a slight hut regular descent. I walked with trembling heart and faltering feet for somo forty or fifty yards down tho mysterious vestihulo : and then I felt myself brought suddenly to a standstill hy a "block of stono placed right across tho pathway. I had had nearly enough for ono evening, and I was preparing to return to the boat, agog with my now discovery, when my attention was suddenly arrested by an incredible, a perfectly miraculous fact. The block of stone Avhich brred tho passage was faintly visible as a square, by means of a struggling belt of light streaming through the seams. There must be a lamp or other flame burning within. What if this were a door like the outer one, leading into a chamber perhaps inhabited K 130 STRANGE STOIUES. bj' some rlaiigorous "band of outcasts ? The light was a sure evidence of human occupation : and yet the outer door swung rnstily on its pivot as though it had never heen opened for ages. I paused a moment in fear before I ventured to try the stone : and then, urged on once moro by some insane impulse, I turned the massive block with all my might to the left. It gave way slowly like its neighbour, and finally opened into the central hall. Never as long as I livo shall I forget the ecstasy of terror, astonishment, and blank dismay which seized upon mo when I stepped into that seemingly enchanted chamber. A blaze of light first burst upon my eyes, from jets of gas arranged in regular rows tier above tier, upon the columns and walls of the vast apartment. Huge pillars, richly painted with red, yellow, blue, and green decorations, stretched in endless succession down the dazzling aisles. A floor of polished syenite reflected the splendour of the lamps, and afforded a base for red granite sphinxes and dark purple images in porphyry of the cat-faced goddess Pasht, whose form I knew so well at the Louvre and the British Museum. But I had no eyes for any of these lesser marvels, being wholly absorbed in the greatest marvel of all: for there, in royal state and with mitred head, a living Egyptian king, surrounded by his coiffured court, was banqueting in the flesh upon a real throne, before a table laden with Memphian delicacies ! I stood transfixed with awe and amazement, my tongue ■ and my feet alike forgetting their office, and my brain whirling round and round, as I remember it used to whirl when my health broke down utterly at Cambridge after the Classical Tripos. I gazed fixedly at the strange picture before me, taking in all its details in a confused way, yet quite incapable of understanding or realizing any part of its true import. I saw the king in the centre of the hall, raised on a throne of granite inlaid with gold and ivory ; his head crowned with the peaked cap of Kameses, and his MY NEW YEARS EVE AMONG TUE MUMMIES. 131 curled hair flowing down liis slionltlers in a set and formal frizz. I saw priests and warriors on either iside, dressed in the costumes which I had often carefully noted in our £>;reat collections ; while bronze-skinned raa'tls, with liirht garments round their waists, and limbs displayed in graceful picturesquencss, waited upon them, half nude, as in the wall paintings which we had lately examined at Ivarnak and Syene. I saw the ladies, clothed from head io foot in dyed linen garments, sitting apart in the back- ground, ban(|ucting by themselves at a separate table ; while dancing girls, like older representatives of my yester- noon friends, the Ghawazi, tumbled before them iu strange attitudes, to the music of four-stringed harps and long straight pipes. In short, I beheld as in a dream the whole drama of everyday Egyptian royal life, playing itself out anew under my eyes, in its real original properties and personages. Gradually, as I looked, I became aware that my hosts were no less surprised at the appearance of their anachro- nistic guest than v\\as the guest himself at the strange living panorama which met his eyes. In a moment music and dancing ceased ; the banquet paused in its course, and the king and his nobles stood up in undisguised astonish- ment to survey the strange intruder. Some minutes passed before any one moved forward en either side. At last a young girl of royal appearance, yet strangely resembling the Ghaziyah of Abu Yilla, and re- calling in part the laughing maiden in the foreground of Mr. Long's great canvas at the previous Academy, stepped out before the throng. " May I ask you," she said in Ancient Egyptian, ♦' who you are, and why you come hither to disturb us ? " I was never aware before that I spoke or understood the language of the hieroglyphics : yet I found I had not the slightest difficulty in comprehending or answering her question. To say the truth, Ancient Egyptian, though an 132 STRANGE STORIES. extremely ton<^h tongue to (Icciplicr iu its written form, loccomes as easy as love-making Avhcn spoken by a pair of lips like that Phnraonic princess's. It is joally very much the same as English, pronounced in a lapid and some- what indefinite whisper, and with all the vowels left out. " I beg ten thousand pardons for my intrusion," I answered apologetically ; " hut I did not know that this Pyramid was inhaLitcd,or I should not have entered your residence so rudely. As for the points you wish to know, i am an English tourist, and you will find my name upon this curd ; " saying which I handed her one from the case which I liad fortuna. ly put into my pocket, with con- ciliatory politeness. The princess examined it closely, "but evidently did not understand its import. "In return," I continued, "may I ask you in what august presence I now find myself by accident?" A court official stood fortli from the throng, and answered in a set heraldic tone : "■ In the presence of tho illustrious monarch, Brotiier of the Sun, Tlioihmes tho Twenty- seventh, king of tho Eighteenth Dynasty." " Salute tho Lord of tlie World," put in another oflScial in the same regulation drone. I bowed low to his Majesty, and stepped out into the hall. Apparently my obeisance did not come up to Egyp- tian standards of courtes}-, for a suppressed titter broke audibly from the ranks of bronze-skinned waiting-women. But the king graciously smiled at my attempt, and turning to tho nearest nobleman, observed in a voice of great sweetness and self contained majesty : " This stranger, Ombos, is certainly a very curious person. Ilis appear- ance does not at all resemble that of an Ethiopian or other savage, nor does he look liko the pale-faced sailors who come to us from tho Achaian land beyond tho sea. His features, to bo sure, are not very different from theirs ; but his eictraordinary and singularly inartistic dress shows him to belong to some other barbaric race." MY NEV/ YEAR'S EVE AMONG THE MUmiJES. 133 I glanced down at my waistcoat, and saw tin'- I was wearing my tourist's clicck suit, of grey and mud colonr, with which a Bond Street t;iilor had Kii[»plied nio just before leaving town, as the latest thing out in fancy tweeds. Evidently these Egyptians must havo a very eurious standard of tasto not to admire our jiietty and graceful style of male attire. *' If the dust beneath your Majesty's feet may venture upon a suggestion," put in the ofiicer whom the king had addressed, "I would hint that this young man is probably a stray visitor from the utterly uncivilized lands of the North. The headgear wln'ch ho carries in his hand obviously betrays an Arctic habitat." I had instinctively taken olf my round felt hat in the first moment of surprise, when I found myself in the midst of this strange throng, and I standing now in a somewhat embarrassed posture, holding it awkwardly before me like a shield to protect my chest. " Let the stranger cover himself," said the king. " Barbarian intruder, cover yourself," cried the herald. I noticed througliout that the king never directly addressed anybody save the higher ofiicials around him. I put on my hat as desired. " A most uncomfortable and silly form of tiara indeed," said the great Thothmes. " Very unlike your noble and awe-spiring mitre, Liou of Egypt," answered Ombos. " Ask the stranger his name," the king continued. It was useless to offer another card, so I mentioned it in a clear voice. " An uncouth and almost unpronounceable designation truly," commented his Majesty to the Grand Chamberlaia beside him. "These savages speak strange languages, widely different from the flowing tongue of Memnon and ►Sesustris." The chamberlain bowed his assent with three low genu- flexions. I began to feel a little abashed at these personal 134 STRANGE STOIilES. remarks, and I almost think (though I shouldn't like it to Ido mentioned in tho Tempk^) that a hlush rose to my chock. Tho beautiful princess, who had been standing near me moanwhilo in an attitude of statuesque repose, now ap- ]Deared anxious to change tho current of tho conversation. " Dear father," she said with a respectful inclination, " surely the stranger, barbarian though ho be, cannot relish such pointed allusions to his person and costume. AVo must let liim feel tho grace rnd delicacy of Egyptian refinement. Then he may perhaps carry back with him some faint echo of its cultured beauty to his northern •wilds." *' Nonsense, Ilatasou," replied Thothraes XXVII. testily. " Savages have no feelings, and they are as incapable of appreciating Egyptian sensibility as the chattering crow is incapable of attaining the dignified reserve of the sacred crocodile." Vour Majesty is mistaken," I said, recovering my self- possession gradually and realizing mj^ position as a free- born Englishman before the court of a foreign despot — though I must allow that I felt rather less confident than iisual, owing to the fact that we were not represented in tho Pyramid b}'' a British Consul — *'I am an English tourist, a visitor from a modern land Avhoso civilization far surpasses the rude culture of early Egypt ; and I am accustomed to respectful treatment from all other nation- alities, as becomes a citizen of the First Naval Power in tho World." My answer created a profound impression. " He has spoken to the Brother of the Sun," cried Ombos in evident perturbation. "He must be of the Blood Koyal in his own tribe, or he would never have dared to do so ! " " Otherwise," added a person whoso dress I recognized as that of a priest, " he must be oflered up in expiation to Amon-Ra immediately." 3IY NEW YEARS EVE AMONG TUE 3IUMMIES. 135 As a nilo I am a decently trutliful person, but under these alarming circumstances I ventured to tell a slight fib with an air of nonchalant boldness. " 1 am a younger brother of our reigning king," I said without a moment's hesitation ; for there was nobody present to gainsay me, and I tried to salvo my conscience by reflecting that at any rate I was only claiming consanguinity witk an imaginary personage. •' In that case," said King Thothmes, with more geniality in his tone, *' there can be no impropriety in my address- ing you personally. Will you take a xdaco at our tablo next to myself, and we can converse together without interrupting a banquet which must bo brief enough in any circumstances? Ilatasou, my dear, you may seat yourself next to the barbarian prince." I felt a visible swelling to the proper dimensions of a Pioyal Highness as I sat down by the king's right hand. The nobles resumed their places, the bronze-skinned waitresses left off standing liko soldiers in a row and staring straight at my humble self, the goldots went round once more, and a comely maid soon brought mo meat, bread, fruits, and date wine. All this time I was naturally burning with curiosity to inquire who my strange hosts might be, and how they had preserved their existence for so many centuries in this undiscovered hall ; but I was obliged to wait until I had satisfied his Majesty of my own nationality, the means by which 1 had entered the Pyramid, the general state of affairs throughout the world at the present moment, and fifty thousand other matters of a similar sort. Thothmes utterly refused to believe my reiterated assertion that our existing civilization was far superior to the Egyptian ; "because," said ho, "I sec from your dress that your nation is utterly devoid of taste or invention ; " but ho listened with great interest to my account of modern, society, the steam-engine, the Permissive Prohibitory Bill, 186 STUANGE STOlilES. tlic telegraph, tlic House of Commons, TTome Rule, anil the other blessings of our advanced era, as well as to a "brief resume of European history from the rise of the Greek culture to the liusso-Tuikish war. At last his questions were nearly exhausted, and I got a chance of making a few counter inquiries on my own account. " And now," I said, turning to the charming ITatasou, whom I thought a more pleasing informant than her august papa, " I should like to know who you are." " What, don't you know ? " she cried with unafiecteu surprise. " Why, we're mummies." She made this astounding statement with just the same quiet unconsciousness as if she had said, "■ we're French," or " we're Americans." I glanced round the walls, and ohserved behind the columns, what I had not noticed till then — a largo number of empty mummy-cases, with their lids placed carelessly by their sides. " But what arc you doing hero ? " I asked in a bewildered way. *' Is it possible," said Ilatasou, " that you don't really know the object of embalming? Though your manners show you to bo an agreeable and well-bred young man, you must excuse my saying that you are shockingly igno- rant. We arc made into mummies in order to preserve our immortality. Onco in every thousand years we wake up for twenty-four hours, recover our flesh and blood, and banquet onco more upon the mummied dishes and other good things laid by for us in the Pyramid. To-day is the first day of a millennium, and so we havo waked up for the sixth time since wo were first embalmed." " The sixth time ? " I inquired incredulously. " Then you must have been dead six thousand years." " Exactly so." *' But the world has not yet existed so long," I cried, in a fervour of orthodox horror. *' Excuse mo, barbarian prince. This is the first MY NEW YEAIl'S EVE AMONG TUE MUMMIES. 137 (lay of the tlireo huudrcd aud tweiity-tjeveu tliousandth millennium." My orthodoxy received a severe shock. However, I had been accustomed to geological Ciilculutions, and was somewhat inclined to accept the antiquity of man ; so I swallowed the statement without more ado. Besides, if such a charming girl as Hatasou had asked mo at that moment to turn Mohammedan, or to worship Osiris, I believe I should incontinently have done so. " You wake up only for a single day and night, then ? " I said. " Only for a single day and night. After that, we go to sleep for another millennium." " Unless you are meanwhile burned as fuel on the Cairo Eailway," I added mentally. " But how," I continued aloud, " do you get these lights ? " " The Pyramid is built above a spring of inflammable gas. We have a reservoir in one of the side chambers in which it collects during the thousand years. As soon as we awake, we turn it on at once from the tap, and light it •with a lucifer match." " Upon my word," I interposed, " I had no notion you Ancient Egyptians were acquainted with the use of matches." " Very likely not. ' There are more things in heaven and earth, Cephrenes, than are dreamt of in your philo- sophy,' as the bard of Phiko puts it." Further inquiries brought out all the secrets of that strange tomb-house, and kept mo fally interested till the close of the banquet. Then the chief priest solemnly rose, offered a small fragment of meat to a deified croco- dile, who sat in a meditative manner by the side of hi.s deserted mummy-case, and declared the feast concluded for the night. All rose from their places, wandered away into the long corridors or side-aisles, and formed little groups of talkers under the brilliant gas-lamps. 188 STRANGE STORIES. For my part, I. strolled off with Ilatasou down tho least illuminated of the colonnades, and to(^k my seat Reside a marLlo fountain, whei-e several fisli (gods of great sanctity, Ilatasou assured mo) were disporting themselves in a porphyry basin. How long we sat there I cannot toll, but I know that wo talked a good- deal about fi^h, and gods, and Egyptian habits, and Egyptian philosophy, and, abovo all, Egyptian love-making. Tho last-named subject wo found very interesting, and when once wo got fully started upon it, no diversion afterwards occurred to break tho even tenour of tho conversation. Ilatasou was a lovely figure, tall, queenly, with smooth dark arms and neck of polished bronze: her big black eyes full of tenderness, and her long hair bound up into a bright Egyptian headdress, that harmonized to a tone with her complexion and her robe. The more we talked, the more desperately did I fall in love, and tho more utterly oblivious did I become of my duty to Edith a Eitz-Simkins. Tho mere ugly daughter of a rich and vulgar brand-now knight, forsooth, to show off her airs before me, when hero was a Princess of the Blood Eoyal of Egypt, obviously sensible to tho attentions which I was paying her, and not unwilling to receive them with a coy and modest grace. Well, I went on saying pretty things to Platasou, and Ilatasou went on deprecating them in a pretty little way, as who should say, " I don't mean what I pretend to mean one bit ; " until at last I may confess that we were both evidently as far gone in tho disease of the heart called love as it is possible for two young people on first acquaintance to become. Therefore, when Hatasou pulled forth her watch — another piece of mechanism with which antiquaries used never to credit the Egyptian people — and declared that she had only three more hours to live, at least for the next thousand years, I fairly broke down, took out my handkerchief, and began to sob like a child of five years old. . 31 Y ^EW YE AW::; EVE AMONG THE MUMMIES. l?>0 Hatasou was clcoply moved. Doconim forbade that slio should console mo with too much cmp-essemcnt ; \mt she ventured to remove tlio handkerchief gently from my face, and suggested tliat there was yet one course oi)en by which wo might enjoy a little more of one another's .society. " Suppose," she said quietly, " you were to become a mummy. You would then wake up, as wo do, every thousand years ; and after you have tried it onco, you will find it just as natural to sleep for a millennium as for eight hours. Of course," she added witli a slight blush, " during the next three or four solar cycles there would be plenty of time to conchulc any other arran^-e- ments you might possibly contemplate, before the occur- rence of another glacial epoch." This mode of regarding time was certainly novel and somewhat bewildering to people who ordinarily reckon its lapse by weeks and months ; and I had a vague conscious- ness that my relations with Editha imposed upon me a moral necessity of returning to the outer world, instead of becoming a millennial mummy. Besides, there was tho awkward chance of being converted into fuel and dissi- pated into space before tho arrival of the next wakin<^ day. But I took one look at Hatasou, whose eyes were filling in turn with sympathetic tears, and that look decided me. I flung Editha, life, and duty to tho dogs, and resolved at once to become a mummy. There was no timo to bo lost. Only three hours remained to us, and tho process of embalming, even in the most hasty manner, would take up fully two. Wo rushed off to the chief priest, who had charge of tho par- ticular department in question. He at onco acceded to my wishes, and briefly explained the mode in which they usually treated the corpse. That word suddenly aroused me. " The corpse ! " I cried ; " but I am alive. You can't embalm me living." " We can," replied tho priest, "under chloroforra."° J40 STRANGE STOJIIES. " Clilorororin ! " I echoed, gro\viii<]; more and more as- toiiiHlicd : " I had no idea you Egyptians know anything about it." " Ignorant harharian ! " he answered with a curl of the lip ; " you imagine yourself much wiser than the teachers of the world. If you were verged in all the wisdom of tho Egyptians, you would know that chloroform is one of our simplest and commonest ana}sthctics." I put myself at once under tho hands of the priest. Ho brought out the chloroform, and placed it beneath my nostrils, as I lay on a soft couch under the central court. Ilatasou held my hand in hers, and watched my breathing with an anxious eye. I saw the priest leaning over me, with a clouded phial in his hand, and I experienced a vague sensation of smelling myrrh and spikenard. Next, I lost myself for a few moments, and when 1 again re- covered my senses in a temporary break, tho priest was holding a f-mall greenstone knife, dabbled with blood, and 1 felt that a gash had been made across my breast. Then they applied tho chloroform once more; I felt Hatasou give my hand a gentle squeeze; tho whole i%anorama faded finally from my view ; and I went to sleep for a seemingly endless time. When I awoke again, my first impression led me to believe that tho thousand years were over, and that I had come to life once more to least with Ilatasou and Thothmes in the Pyramid of Abu Yilla. But second thoughts, com- bined with closer observation ^f tho surroandings, con- vinced mo that I was really lying in a bedroom of Shepheard's Hotel at Cairo. An hospital nurse leant over me, instead of a chief priest ; and I noticed no tokens of Editha Fitz-Simkins's presence. But when I endeavoured to make inquiries upon tho subject of my whereabouts, I was perenqitorily informed that I mustn't speak, as I was only just recovering from a severe fever, and might endanger my life by talking. MY NEW YEAR'S EVE AMOXG THE MUMMIES. Ill Somo weeks later I learned the sequel of my night's adventure. Tlio Fit>c-Sinikinses, niissinu; mo from tlio bout in the morninp;, at first imagined that 1 might have gone ashore for an early istroll. lint aftur hreakfast time, lunch time, and dinner time had gone past, they l)egan to grow alarmed, and sent to look for mo in all direetions. Ono of their scouts, happening to pass the Pyramid, noticed that ono of tho stones near the north-east angle had heen displaced, so as to givo access to a dark passage, hitherto unknown. Calling seve]-al of his friends, for ho was afraid to venture in alone, ho passed down tho corridor, and through a second gateway into tho central hall. There the Fellahin found me, lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound on tho breast, and in an advanced stage of malarious fever. They brought me back to tho boat, and tho Fit^-Simkinses conveyed mo at once to Cairo, for medical attendanco and proper nursing. Editha was at first convinced that I had attempted to commit suicide because I could not endure having caused her pain, and she accordhigly resolved to tend mo with tho utmost care through my illness. But she found that my delirious remarks, besides bearing frequent reference to a princess, with whom I appeared to have l)een on unexpeet'jdly intimate terms, also related very largely to our casus belli itself, tho dancing girls of Abu Yilla. Even this trial she might have l)orne, setting down the moral degeneracy which led me to patronize so degrading an exhibition as a first symptom of ray approaching malady : but certain unfortunate observations, containing pointed and by no means flattering allusions to her personal appearance — which I contrasted, much to her disadvan- tage, with that of the unknown princess — these, I say, were things which sho could not forgive; and she left Cairo abruptly with her parents for the Eiviera, leaving behind a stinging note, in Avhich sho denounced my perfidy and empty-heartedness with all the flowers of 142 STRANiJI': STOltlKS. feminino eloquence. From that tlay to this I have never seen her. "VVlicn I roturned to Londrm and proposed to lay tliis account hcforo the Society of Anti(]uarie.s, all n»y friends difisuadod nio on the ground of its a})parent incredibility. Tlicy dcclaro that 1 must have gone to the I'yramid already in a .state of delirium, discovered the entrance by accident, and sunk exliaustcd when I reached the inner chamber. In answer, I would point out three facts. In tko first place, I undoubtedly found my way into tho unknown passa<^e — for which achievement I aft';rwards received the gt)ld medal of the Societo Khcdiviale, and of which I retain a clear recollection, dillering in no way from my recollection of tho subsecpient events. In tho second place, I had in my pocket, when fouiid, a ring of Ilatasou's, which I drew from her finger just before I took tho chloroform, and put into my pocket as a keepsake. And in the third place, I had on my breast the wound which I saw the priest inflict with a knife of greenstone, and tho scar may be seen on the spot to the present day. The absurd hypothesis of my medical friends, that I was wounded by falling against a sharp edge of it ok, I must at once reject as unworthy a moment's consideration. My own theory is either that the priest had not time to complete the operation, or else that the arrival of the Fitz-Simkins' scouts frightened back the mummies to their cases an hour or so too soon. At any rate, there they all were, ranged around the walls undisturbed, tho moment the Fellahin entered. Unfortunately, the truth of my account cannot bo tested for another thousand years. But as a copy of this book will be preserved for the benefit of posterity in the British Museum, I hereby solemnly call upon Col- lective Humanity to try the veracity of this history by sending a deputation of archaeologists to the Pyramid of Abu Yilla, on the last day of December, Two thousand MY Ni:w YKiirS EVE AMONG THE MUMMIES. 113 oiglit liundrctl and seventy-sovcn. If tlioy do not then find Thotliiacs tuid Hatasoii feasting v\ tho central Jmll exactly as I have described, I shall wilUn-ly admit that thoKtory of iny New Year's Evo amon- the Mnniinies is a vain hallucination, nnwurthy of credence at the hands of the scientific world. THE FOUNDERING OF THE '^FORTUNAr I. I AM going to spin yon tho yarn of the fonndoring of tlio Fortnna exactly as an old lake captain on a Huron steamer once span it for mo by Great Manitoiilin Island. It is a strange and a weird story; and if I can't give you the dialect in whicli lie told it, yon must forgive an Knglisli tongue its native accent for the sake of tho cnrions Yankee tale that nnderlics it. Captain Montague Bcrcsford Ticrpoint was hardly the sort of man yon would have expected to find behind the connter of a small shanty bank at Aylmer's Pike, Colorado. There was an engaging English frankness, an obvious honesty and refinement of manner about him, which suited very oddly witli tho rough habits and rougher ivcstem speech of the mining popnlation in whose midst ho il/ed. And yet, Captain Tierpoint had succeeded in gaining the confidence and lespecfc of those strange outcasts of civil- ization by some indesci'ibable charm of address and some invisible talisman of qniet good-fellowship, which caused him to be more universally believed in than any other man whatsoever at Aylmer's Pike. Indeed, to say so much is rather to underrate tho uniqueness of his position; for it might, perhaps, bo truer to say that Captain Pierpoint Tni: Fouynj-Rixcr of the 'tortuna:' ii:. was tho only man in tlio placo in whom any one Tx-licved at all in any way. Ifo was an honest-spoken, qniot, nn- ohtrnsivo sort of man, who wallceil al)Out fearlessly without a revolver, and never u^ambled cither in mining sh.ares or at poker; so that, to the simple-minded, unsophisticated rogues and vagabonds of Aylmcr's Pike, ho seemed tho very incarnation of incorruptible commercial honour. They would have trusted all their earnings and winnings without hesitation to Captain- Picvpoint's bare word ; and when tlicy did so, they knew that Captain Pierpoint had always had tho money forthcoming, on demand, without a moment's delay or a single prevarication. Captain Pierpoint walked very straight and erect, as becomes a man of conspicuous uprightness ; and there was a certain tinge of military bearing in his manner -which seemed at first sight sufliciently to justify his ])!)pu]ar title. But ho himself made no false pretences upon that head ; he freely acknowledged that ho had acquired the position of captain, not in her Britannic Majesty's Guards, as tho gossip of Aylmer's Pike sometimes asserted, but in tho course of his earlier professi all the learning of the Egyptians. Daniel, who testified in the captivity, was cunning in knowledge, and understanding science, and instructed in the wisdom and tongue of the Chaldeans. Paul, who was the apostle of the Gentiles, had not only sat at the feet of Gamaliel, but was also able from their own poets and philosophers to confute the sophisms and subtleties of the Grecians themselves. These things show us that wo should not too lightly despise even worldly learning and worldly science. Perhaps we have gone wrong in thinking too little of such dross, and being puffed up with spiritual pride. The world might i listen to us more readily if we had one who could speak I the word for us in the tongues understanded of the world." As he paused, a hum of acquiescence went round the room. " It has seemed to me, then," the Apostle went on, " that we ought to choose some one among (jur younger brethren, upon whoso shoulders the cares and duties of the Apos- toUitc might hereafter fall. ^Ve are a poor people, but by subscription among ourselves we might raise a sufficient sum to send the chosen person first to a good school here in London, and afterwards to the University of Oxford. It may seem a doubtful and a hazardous thing thus to stake our future upon any one young man ; but then wo must remember that the choice will not be wholly or even THE BACKSLID EH. ]G7 mainly ours; we will bo guided and directed as wo over aro in the layin^; on of hands. To lue, considering^ tluH matter thus, it has seemed that there is one youth in our body who is speciall}' pointed out for this work. Only one child has ever been born into the Church : he, as you know, is the son of brother John Owen and sister Margaret Owen, who were received into the fold just six days before his birth. Paul Owen's very name seems to many of us, who take nothing for chance but all things for divinely ordered, to mark liiiu out at once as a foreordained Apostle. Is it your -wish, then, Presbyter John Owen, to dedicate your only son to this ministry ? " Presbyter John Owen rose from the row of seats assigned to the forty-eight, and moved hesitatingly towards tho platform. lie was an intelligent-looking, honest-faced, sunburnt working man, a mason by trade, who had como into the Church from tho Baptist society ; and he was awkwardly dressed in his .Sunday clothes, with the scru- pulous clumsy neatness of a respectable artisan who expects to take part in an important ceremony, lie spoke nervously and with hesitation, but with all tho transparent earnestness of a simple, enthusiastic nature. " Apostle and friends," he said, " it ain't very easy for me to disentangle mj^ fcclins on this subjec' from one another. I hope I ain't moved by any worldly feelin', an' yet I hardly know how to keep such considerations out, for there's no denyin' tliat it Avould bo a great pleasure to mo and to his mother to see our Paul becomin' a teacher in Israel, and receivm' an education such as you. Apostle, has pinted out. But wo hope, too, we ain't insensible to the good of the Church and tho advantage that it might derive from our Paul's support and preachin'. Wo can't help scein' ourselves that the lad has got abilities ; and we've tried to train him up from his 3'uuth upward, like Timothy, for the furtherance of the right doctrine. If the Church thinks he's fit for the work laid upon him, 1G8 STllA^GE STORIES. Ills mother and iiio'll 1)0 glad to dedicate him to the Korvico." lie .sat (l(j\vn awkwardly, and the Chnrch again hummod its approljation in a suppressed murmur. The Apostlo rose oiico mure, and briclJy called on Paul Owen to stand forward. In answer to the call, a tall, handsome, oarnest-eycd boy advanced timidly to the platform. It was no wonder that those enthusiastic Gidconito visionaries should have seen in his face the visible stamp of the Apostleship. Paul Owen had a ricli crop of dark-brown glossy and curly hair, out something after the Florentine Cinque-cento fashion — not because his parents wished him to look artistic, but because that Avas the way in which they had seen the hair dressed in all the sacred pictures that they knew; and Margaret Owen, the daughter of some Wesleyan Spital- fields weaver folk, with the imaginative Huguenot blood still strong in her veins, had made up her mind ever since she became Convinced of the Truth (as their phrase ran) that her Paul was called from his cradle to a great work. His features were delicately chiselled, and showed rather natural culture, like his mother's, than rough honesty, like John Owen's, or strong individuality^ like the masterful Apostle's. His eyes were peculiarly deep and luminous, with a far-away look which might have reminded an artist of the central boyish figure in Holman Hunt's picture of the Doctors in the Temple. And yet Paul Owen had a healthy colour in his cheek and a general sturdiness of limb and muscle which showed that he was none of your nervous, bloodless, sickly idealists, but a wholesome English peasant boy of native refinement and delicate sensibilities. He moved forward with some natural hesitation before the eyes of so many people — ay, and what was more terrible, of the entire Church upon earth ; but ho v/as not awkward and constrained in his action like his father. One could see that he was sustained in the THE BACKSLID Ell. IGD prominent part ho took that morning hy tho conscionsnosa of a duty ho had to perform and a uiissiuu laid npon him which ho must not reject. *' Are yon -willinji?, my son I'anl," asked tho Apostks gravely, " to take upon yourself tho task that tho Church proposes ? " " I am willing," answered tho hoy in a low voice, " grace preventing mo." " Docs all the Church nnanimo)isly a]iprovo tho election of our brother Paul to this ofiice ? " the Apostlo asked formally; for it was a rule with tho Gideonites that nothing should be done except by tho unanimous and spontaneous acticni of tho whole body, acting nndur direct and immediate inspiration; and all important matters were accordingly arranged beforehand by tho Apostlo in private interviews with every member of tho Cliurch in- dividually, so that everything that took place in public assembly had tho appearance of being wholly unquestioned' They took counsel first with ono another, and consulted tho Scripture together ; and when all private doubts wero satisfied, they met as a Chnrch to ratify in solemn conclave their separate conclusions. It was not often that tho Apostlo did not have his own way. Not only had he tho most marked personality and tho strongest will, but ho alone also had Greek and Hebrew enough to appeal always to tho original word ; and that mysterions amoimt of learning, slight as it really was, sufficed almost inva- riably to settle the scruples of his wholly ignorant and pliant disciples. Reverence for tho literal Scripture in its primitive language was the corner-stone of the Gidconi to Church ; and for all practical purposes, its one depositary and exponent for them was tho Apostle himself. Even tho Rev. Albert Barnes's Commentary w^as held to possess an inferior authority. " The Church approves," was tho unanimous answer. " Then, Episcops, Presbyters, and brethren," said the 170 STIiANGE STORIES. Apostlo, taking up a roll of names, " I have to ask that you will each mark down on this paper opposite yonr own names how much a year you can spare of your substance for six years to come as a guarantee fund for this great work. You must remember that the ministry of this Church has cost you nothing ; freely I have received and freely given ; do you now hear your part in equipping a now aspirant for tlie succession to the Apostolatc." The two senior Episoops took two rolls from his hand, and went round the benches with a stylographic pen (so strangely do the ages mingle — Apostles and stylographs) silently asking each to put down his voluntary subscription. Meanwliile the Apostlo read slowly and reverently a few appropriate sentences of Scripture. Some of the riclier members — well-to-do small tradesmen of Peckham — put down a pound or even two pounds apiece ; the j)oorer brethren wrote themselves down for ten shillings or even five. In tho end the guarantee list amounted to Id 51. a year. The Apostle reckoned it up rapidly to himself, and then announced tho result to tho assembly, with a gentle smile relaxing his austere countenance. He was well pleased, for the sum w^as quite sufficient to keep Paul Owen two years at school in London and then send him comfortably if not splendidly to Oxford. The boy had already had a fiiir education in Latin and some Greek, at tho Birkbeck Schools ; and with two years' further study he might even gain a scholarship (for ho was a bright lad), which w^ould materially lessen the expense to the young Church. Unlike many prophets and enthusiasts, tho Apostlo was a good man of business; and he had taken pains to learn all about these favourable chances before embarking his people on so very doubtful a speculation. The Assembly was just about to close, when one of the Presbyters rose unexpectedly to put a question which, contrary to the usual practice, had not already been sub- TUE BACKSLIDER. 171 mitted for approbation to tho Apostle. ITo was a liard- headed, thickset, vulgar-looking man, a greengrocer at Denmark Hill, and the Apostlo always looked upon him as a thorn in his side, promoted by inscrutable wisdom to tho Presbytery for the special purpose of keeping down tho Apostle's spiritual pride. " Ono more pint, Apostle," ho said abruptly, " aforo wo close. It seems to me that even in the Church's work we'd ought to bo business-like. Now, it ain't business- like to let this young man, lirother Paul, get his eddica- tion out of us, if I may so speak aforo tho Church, on spec. It's all very well our sayin' he's to bo cdtlicated and tako on the Apostleship, but how do we know but Avhat when he's had his eddication ho may lall away and become a backslider, like Demas and like others anumg ourselves that we could mention ? Ho may go to Oxford among a lot of Midianites, and them of tho great an' mighty of tho earth too, and how do we know but what ho may round upon the Church, and go back upon us after we've paid for his eddication? So what I want to ask is just this, can't wo bind him down in a bond that if ho don't tako tlio Apostleship with the consent of the Church when it falls vacant he'll pay us back our money, so as we can eddicato up another as '11 be more worthy?" Tho Apostlo moved uneasily in his chair ; but before he could speak, Paul Owen's indignation found voice, and ho said out his say boldly before tho whole assembly, blushing crimson with mingled shamo and excitement as he did so. •' If Brother Grimshaw and all tho brethren think so ill of mo that they cannot trust my honesty and honour," ho said, "they need not be at tho pains of educating me. I will sign no bond and enter into no compact. But if you suppose that I will bo a backslider, you do not know me, and I will confer no more with you upon tho subject." " My son Paul is right," tho Apostle said, flushing up 172 STRANGE STORIES. in turn at the boy's audacity ; •' wo will not make the affaiis of tho Spirit a matter for bonds and earthly ar- rangements. If tho Church thinks as I do, you will all rise up." All roso except Presbyter Grimshaw. For a moment there was some hesitation, for tho rule of tho Church in favour of unanimity was absolute ; but tho Apostlo fixed his piercing eyes on Job Grimshaw, and after a minute or so Job Grimshaw too roso slowly, like one com]ielled by an unseen power, and cast in his vote grudgingly with the rest. There was nothing more said about signing an agreement. II. Meenio Bolton had counted a great deal upon lier visit to Oxford, and she found it (^uite as delightful as she had anticipated. Iler brother knew such a nice set of men, especially Mr. Owen, of Christchurch. Meenio had never been so near falling in lovo with anybody in her life as she was with Paul Owen. Ho was so handsome and so clever, and then there was something so romantic about this strange Church they said he belonged to. Meenie's father was a country parson, and the way in which Paul shrank from talking about the Rector, as if his office were something wicked or uncanny, picjued and amused her. There was an heretical tinge about him which made him doubly interesting to the Hector's daughter. The afternoon water party that eventful Thursday, down to Nuneham^ she looked forward to with the deepest interest. For her aunt, the Professor's wife, who was to take charge of them, was certainly tho most delightful and most sensible of chaperons. - , * '» THE BACKSLIDER. 17:1 *' Is it really true, Mr. Owen," slio said, as they pat together for ten minutes alono after their pienic luncheon, by the side of tho weir under the shadow of the Nunehaiu beeches — " is it really true that this Church of yours doesn't allow people to marry ? " Paul coloured up to his eyes as ho answered, " Well, Miss Bolton, I don't know that you should identify me too absolutely with my Church. I was very young when they selected mo to go to Oxford, and my opinions have decidedly wavered a good deal lately. But the Church certainly does forbid marriage. I have always been brought up to look upon it as sinful." Meenio laughed aloud ; and Paul, to whom the question was no laughing matter, but a serious point of conscien- tious scruple, could hardly help laughing with her, so infectious was that pleasant ripple. lie checked himself with an effort, and tried to look serious. " Do you know,* ho said, " when I first came to Christchurch, I doubted even whether I ought to make your brother's acquaintance" because he was a clergyman's son. I was taught to de- scribe clergymen always as priests of Midian." lie never talked about his Church to anybody at Oxford, and it was a sort of relief to him to speak on tho subject to Mecnie, iu spite of her laughing eyes and undisguised amusement. The other men would have laughed at him too, but their laughter would have been less sympathetic. " And do you think them priests of Midian still ? " asked Meenie. " Miss Bolton," said Paul suddenl}-, as one who relievos his overburdened mind by a great effort, " I am almost moved to make a confidante of you." *' There is nothing I love better than confidences," Meenie answered ; and she might truthfully have added. " particularly from you." " Well, I have been passing lately through a great many doubts and difficulties. I was brought up by my 174 STRANGE SWniES. Church to become its next Apostle, and I have "been crlu- catod at their cxpciiso Loth in London and liere. You know," Paid added with liis innate love of tollini; out the wliole truth, " I am not a j^entlenian ; I am the son of poor working people in London." "Tom t(»ld mo who your parents were," IMecnio an- swered simply ; " but he told me, too, you were none the less a true gentleman born %r that ; and I see myself ho told me right." Paul flushed again — ho had a most unmanlj'' trick of flushing up — and bowed a little timid bow. " Thank you," he said qnietly. "Well, while I was in London I lived entirely among my own people, and never heard anything talked about except our ov/n doctrines. I thought our Apostle the most learned, the wisest, and the greatest of men. I had not a doubt about tho absolute infallibility of our own opinions. But ever since I camo to Oxford I have slowly begun to hesitate and to falter. "When I came up first, tho men laughed at me a good deal in a good-humoured way, because I wouldn't do as they did. Then I thought myself persecuted for the truth's sake, and was glad. But the men were really very kind and forbearing to me; they never argued with me or bullied me ; they respected my scruples, and said nothing more about it as soon as they found out Avhat they really were. That was my first stumbling-block. If they had fonght me and deljated with me, I might have stuck to my own opinions by force of opposition. But they turned me in upon myself completely by their silence, and mas- tered me by their kindly forbearance. Point by point I began to give in, till now I hardly know where I am standing." " You wouldn't join the cricket club at first, Tom says." " No, I wouldn't. I thought it wrong to walk in tho ways of Midian. But gradually I began to argue myself out of my scruples, and now I positively pull six in the THE BACKSLIDEIi. X75 boat, and wear a Christcliurch ribljoii o) till all that money was paid off. " Fortunately," ho said, " I have lived economically, and havo not spent nearly as much as they guaranteed. I got scholarships up to a hundred a year of my own, and I only took a hundred a year of theirs. They offered mo two hundred. Uut there's five years at a hundred, that makes five hundre(7 l)ounds — a big debt to begin life with." " Never mind," said Meenie. " You will get a fellow- ship, and in a few years you can pay it off." " Yes," said Paul, •' I can pay it off. But I can never pay off tho hopes and aspirations I have blighted. I must 180 STHANGIJ STOIilES. "boconio a sclioolmastor, or a l»arristcr, or fiomothinfj of that sort, and novor repay thoiii for their sclf-sacrifico and devotion in makinj^ mo whatcNxr I .shall become. They may jijct back ilicir monoj-, but tliey will have lost their cherished Apostle for over." "Mr. Owen," Mecnio answered solemnly, "the seal of the Apostoliito lies far deeper than that. It was born in you, and no act of yours can shako it off." " Meenie," ho said, h)okin-' at lier gently, with a changed expression — " JMecnio, we shall have to wait many years." " Never mind, Paul," she replied, as naturally as if ho had been Paul to her all her life long, " I can wait if you can. liut what will you do for the immediato present?" " I have my seliolarship," ho said ; " I can get on partly upon that ; and tlien I can take pupils ; and I have only one year more of it." So before they parted tliat night it was all well under- stood between them that Paul was to declare his defection irom the Church at the earliest opportunity ; tliat ho was to live as best ho might till he could take his degree ; that he was then to pay olf all the back debt ; and that after all these things he and Meenio might get comfortably married whenever they were able. As to the Rector and his wife, or any other parental authorities, they both left them out in the cold as wholly as young people always do leave their elders out on all similar occasions. " Maria's a born fool ! " said the Rector to his wife a "week after Meenie's return ; " I always knew sho was a fool, but I never know sho was quite such a fool as to permit a thing like this. So far as I can get it out of Edie, and so far as Edie can get it out of Meenie, I under- stand that she has allowed Moenie to go and get herself engaged to some Dissenter fellow, a Shaker, or a Mor- mon, or a Communist, or something of the sort, who is the son of a common labourer, and has been sent up to Oxford, Tom lolls me, by his own sect, to be made into a gentle- Tin: BACKSLIBEU. 181 man, so as to ji^ivo some sort or colour of respectability to their absurd (loctrinos. I shall send tho <;irl to town at once to Emily's, and she shall stop there all next season, to see if sho can't manage to _i;ct engaged to souio young man in decent .society at any rate." III. When Paul Owen returned to Pcckham for tho long^ vacation, it was with a heavy heart that ho ventured hack slowly to his father's cottage. Margaret Owen had put everything straight and neat in tho littlo living room, as sho always did, to welcome homo her son who had grown into a gentleman ; and honest John stood at tho threshold beaming with ple;isure to wring Paul's hand in his lirni grip, just back unwashed from his day's labour. After the first kissings and greetings were over, John Owen said rather solemnly, " I have bad news for you, Paul. Tho Apostle is sick, even unto death." AVhen Paul hoard that, ho was sorely tempted to put off tho disclosure for tho present ; but ho felt ho must not. So that same night, as they sat together in the dusk near tho window where tho geraniums stood, ho began to un- burden his whole mind, gently and tentatively, so as to spare their feelings as much as possible, to his father and mother. He told them how, since ho went to Oxford, ho had learned to think somewhat differently about many things; how his ideas had gradually deepened and broadened ; how ho had begun to inquire into funda- mentals for himself; how ho had feared that the Gideonites took too much for granted, and reposed too implicitly on tho supposed critical learning of their Apostle. As ho spoke his mother listened in tearful silence ; but his father 182 STItANGE STOItlES. jnurmured from time to time, " I was afeard of this already, Paul ; I seen it coming', now and again, long ago." There was pity and regret in his tone, but not a shade of reproacUfulness. At last, however, Paul camo to speak, timidly and reservedly, of Meenio. Then his father's eye began to flash a little, and liis breath camo deejier and harder. Wlien Paul told him briefly that ho was engaged to her, tlie strong man conld stand it no longer, lie rose up in riglitoous wrath, and tlirust his son at arm's length from him. " "What ! " ho cried fiercely, " you don't mean to tell nie you have fallen into sin and looked upon the daughters of Midian ! It was no Scriptural doubts that druv you on, then, but the desire of the flesh and the lust of the eyes that has lost you ! You dare to stand up there, Paul Owen, and tell mo that you throw over the Church and the Apostle for the sake of a girl, like a poor miserable Samson! You are no son of mine, and I have nothin' more to say to you." But Margaret Owen put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, " John, let us hear him out." And John, recalled by that gentle touch, listened once more. Then Paul pleaded his case powerfully again. He quoted Scrip- ture to them ; he argued with them, after their own fashion, and down to their own comprehension, text by text ; he pitted his own critical and exegetical faculty against the Apostle's. Last of all, he turned to his mother, who, tearful still and heartbroken with disappointment, yet looked admiringly upon her learned, eloquent boy, and said to her tenderly, " Remember, mother, you yourself were once in love. You yourself once stood, night after night, leaning on the gate, waiting with your heart beating for a footstep that you knew so well. You yourself once counted the days and the hours and the minutes till the next meeting- came." And Margaret Owen, touched to the heart by that simple appeal, kissed him fervently a dozen THE BACKSLIDER. \S-i times over, tlio hot tears dropping on his chock meanwhile; and then, contrary to all tlio rules of their austere Church, she flung her arras round her husband too, and kissed him passionately the first time for twenty years, with all tho fervour of a floodgate loosed. Paul Owen's apostolato had Burely borne its first fruit. The father stood for a moment in doubt and terror, liko one stunned or dazed, and then, in a moment of sudden remembrance, stepped forward and returned the kiss. Tho spell was broken, and the Apostle's power was no more. What else passed in the cottage that night, when John Owen full upon his knees and wrestled in spirit, was too wholly internal to the man's own soul for telling hero. Next day John and Margaret Owen felt the dream of their lives was gone ; but the mother in her heart rejoiced to think her boy might know tho depths of love, and might bring homo a real lady for his wife. On Sunday it was rumoured tliat the Apostle's ailment was very serious ; but young Brother I'aul Owen would address , the Church. He did so, though not exactly in the way the Church expected. Ho told them simply and plainly how he had changed his views about certain matters ; how he thanked them from his heart for tho luan of their money (he was careful to emphasize !^ tho word loaii), which had helped him to carry on his education at Oxford ; and how he would repay tliem the principal and interest, though he could never repay them the kindness, at the earliest possible opportunity. He was so grave, so earnest, so transparently true, that, in spite of tho down- fall of their dearest hopes, he carried the whole meeting with him, all save ono man. Tliat man was Job Grim- shaw. Job rose from his place with a look of undisguised triumph as soon as Paul had finished, and, mounting tho platform quietly, said his say. "I know, Episcops, Presbyters, and Brethren," ho began, " how this 'ere young man would finish. I saw it 184 STBANGE STORIES. the (lay ho \vas appintccL lie's flushing up now the same as ho flushed up then Avhen I spoke to liim ; and it ain't ^pcriitual, it's -worldly pride and hcatlKtron^-noss, that's Avhat it is. IIc'.s had our money, and he's had liis eddica- tion, and now he's going to round on us, just as I said he would. It's all very well talking about paying us Lack : liow's a young man like him to get five hundred pounds, I should like to know. And if he did even, what sort o' a'cpayment would that ho to many of the brethren, who've saved and scraped for live year to let him live like a gentleman among the great and the mighty o' IMidian? He's got his eddication out of us, and ho can keep that whatever happens, and make a living out of it, too ; and now he's going back on us, same as I said he would, and, having got all he can out of the Church, he's going to chuck it away like a sucked orange. I detest such back- sliding and such ungratefulness." I'aul's cup of humiliation was full, but he bit his lip till the blood almost came, and made no answer. " He boasted in his own strength," Job went on merci- lessly, " that he wasn't going tO' bo a backslider, and he Avasu't going to sign no bond, and lio wasn't going to con- fer with us, but wo nuist trust his honour and honesty, and such like. I've got his very words written down in my notebook 'ere ; for I made a note of 'em, foreseeing this. If we'd 'a' bound him down, as I proposed, ho wouldn't 'a' dared to go backsliding and rounding on us, and making up to the daugliters of Midian, as I don't doubt but what ]ie's been doing." Paul's toll-tale face sliowcd him at once that ho had struck by accident on the right chord. " But if he ever goes bringing a daughter of Midian here to Peckham," Job continued, '* we'll show her these very notes, and ask her what she thinks of such dishonourable conduct. The Apostle's dying, that's clear ; and before ho dies I warrant he shall know this treachery." Paul could not stand that last threat. Though he had TIIK BACKSLIDER. 185 lost faith ill tlio Apostlo as an Apostle, ho could never forget the allcgianco ho had onco homo liiiu as a fatlier, or the spell which his powerful individuality had «)nco thrown around him as a teacher. To have embittt-red that man's dyii^i;' bed with the shadow of a torrihlo disappointment would bo to Paul a lifelong subject of deep remorse. " I did not intend to open my moutli in answer to you, ]\It '^rrimshaw," ho said (for tlio first timo breaking through the customary address of liruther), " but I \)T&,y you, I entreat you, I beseech you, not to harass the Apostlo in bis last moments with such a subject." "Oh yes, I suppose so," Job Grimshaw answered maliciously, all the ingrained coarseness of the nuin breaking out in the wrinkles of his face. " No wonder you don't want him enlightened alxtut your goings on with tho daughters of Midian, when yon must know as well as I do that his life ain'r. woith a day's purchase, and that he's a man of independent moans, and has left you every penny he's got in his will, because ho believes you're a lit successor to tho Apostulate. I know it, for I signed as a witness, and I read it through, being a short one, while the other witness was signing. And you must know it as well as I do. I suppose you don't think lie'll make another will now ; but there's time enough to burn that one anyhow." Paul Owen stood aghast at the vulgar baseness of which this lewd fellow supposed him capable. He had never thought of it before; and yet it flashed across his mind in a moment how obvious it was now. Of course tho Apostlo would leave him his money. IIo was being educated for the Apostolate, and the Apostolato could not be carried on without the sinews of war. But that Job Grimshaw should think him guilty of angling for tho Apostle's money, and then throwing the Church overboard — the bare notion of it was so horrible to him that ho could not oven hold up his head to answer the taunt. 186 STRANGE STOItlES. He sat down and buried liis crimson face in his hands ; and Job Griinshaw, taking- up liis hat sturdily, with the air of a man who has to perform an unpleasant duty, loft the meeting-room abruptly without another word. There was a gloomy Sunday dinner that morning in the mason's cottage, and nobody seemed much inclined to speak in any way. But as they were in the midst of their solemn meal, a neighbour who was also a Gideonite came in hurriedly. " It's all over," ho said, breathless—" all over with us and with the Church. The Apostle is dead. Ho died this morning." Margaret Owen found voice to ask, "Before Job Grini- shaw saw him ? " The neighbour nodded, " Yes." " Thank heaven for that ! " cried Paul. " Then he did not die misunderstanding me ! " " And you'll get his money," added the neighbour, " for I was the other witness." Paul drew a long breath. " I wish Meenie was here," he said. " 1 must see her about this." IV. A few days' later the Apostle was buried, and his will was read over before the assembled Church. By earnest persuasion of his father, Paul consented to be present, though he feared another humiliation from Job Grimshaw. But two days before he had taken the law into his own hands, by writing to Meenie, at her aunt's in Eaton Place ; and that very indiscreet young lady, in response, had actually consented to meet him in Kensington Gardens alone the next afternoon. There he sat with her on one THE BACKSLIDER. 18t of tho benches by the Serpentine, and talked the -wliolo matter over with her to his heart's content. " If tho money is really left to me," ho said, *' I mnst in honour refuse it. It was left to mo to carry on tlio Apostolato, and I can't take it on any other ground. But what ought I to do Avith it? I can't give it over to tlio Church, for in three days there will bo no Ohurcli left to give it to. Wliat shall I do with it ? " " Why," said Meenie, thouglitfully, " if I were you I should do this. First, pay back everybody wlio contributed towards your support in full, principal and interest ; then borrow from the remainder as much as you require to complete your Oxford course ; and iinally, pay back all that and tho other money to tho fund when you are able, and hand it over for the purpose of doing some good work in Peckham itself, where your Church was originally founded. If the ideal can't be fulfilled, let the money do something good fur the actual." " You are quite right, Meenie," said Paul, " except in one particular. I will not borrow from tho fund for my own su2)port. I will not touch a penny of it, temporarily or permanently, for myself in any way. If it comes to me, I shall make it over to trustees at (mco for some good object, as you. suggest, and shall borruw from them five hundred pounds to repay my own poor people, giving tho trustees my bond to repay tho fund hereafter. I shall fight my own battle henceforth unaided." " You will do as you ought to do, Paul, and I am proud of it." So next morning, whe.i the meeting took place, Paul felt somewhat happier in his own mind as to the course ho should pursue with reference to Job Grimshaw. The Senior Episcop opened and read the last will and testament of Arthur Murgess, attorney-at-law. It pro- vided in a few words that all his estate, real and personal, should pass unreservedly to his friend, Paul Owen, of ins stuange stouies. Christchurcb, Oxfonl. It was whispered about that, hesideH tho limisc and cjrouiids, the personalty might be sworn at C8000, a vast sun to those simple people. AVlien tho reading was finished, I'aul rose and addressed the assembly, lie told tl:en\ briefly tho plan ho had i'(jrmcd, and insisted on his determination that not a penny of the money should bo put to his own uses. IIo would face tho world for himself, and thanks to their kindness lie could face it easily enough, llo would still earn and pay back all that he owed them. IIo would uso tho fund, "Jirst for tho good of those who had been members of the (^'Inircli, and afterwards for the good of tho pectplo of Pockham generally. And he thanked them frcjm the bottom of his heart for tho kindness they had shown him. Even Job Grimshaw could only mutter to himself that this was not spcrritual grace, but mere worldly prido and stubbornness, lest the lad should betray his evil designs, which had thus availed him nothing. " lie has lost his own soul and wrecked the Church for tho sake of the money," Job said, "and now ho dassn't touch a fardcn OI it. Next John Owen rose and said slowly, " Friends, it seems to mo we may as well all confess that this Churcli has gone to pieces. I can't stop in it myself any longer, for I see it's clear agin nature, and what's agin nature can't be true." And though tho assembly said nothing, it was plain that there were many waverers in the little l)ody whom tlie affairs of the last week had shaken sadly in their simple faith. Indeed, as a matter of fact, before the end of the month tho Gideonite Churcli had melted away, member by member, till nobody at all was left of the whole assembly but Job Grimshaw. " My dear," said the Eector to his wife a few weeks later, laying do\vn his lUasfratcd, " this is really a very curious thing. That young fellow Owen, of Christchurcb, that Meenio fancied herself engaged to, has just come into THE BACKS LID EE. 189 a little landed property and eight or nine thousand pounds on his own account. Tie mu.st bo bettor connected tlian Tom imagines. Perhaps we might make inquiries about him after all." The liector did make inquiries in the course of the week, and with siucli results that he returned to the rectory iu blank amaz-ement. " Tliat fellow's mad, Amelia," ho said, " stark mad, if ever anybody was. Tho leader of his Littlo Bethel, or Ebenczer, or whatever it may be, has left him all his property absolutely, without conditions ; antl tho idiot of a boy declares ho won't touch a penny of it, because he's ceased to believe in their particular shibbo- leth, and he thinks the leader wanted him to succeed him. Very right and proper of him, of course, to leave the sect if he can't reconcile it with his conscience, but perfectly Quixotic of him to give up the money and beggar himself outright. Even if his connection was otherwise desirable (which it is far from being), it would be absurd to think of letting Meenio marry such a ridiculous hair-brained fellow." Paul and Meenie, however, went their own way, as j-oung people often will, in spite of the Kector. Paul returned next term to Oxford, penniless, but full of veso- lution, and by dint of taking pupils managed to eke out his scholarship for tho next year. At the end of that time he took his first in Greats, and shortly after gained a fellowship. From the very first day ho began saving money to pay off that dead weight of five hundred pounds. The kindly ex-Gideonites had mostly protested against his repaying them at all, but in vain : Paul would not make his entry into life, ho said, under false pretences. It was a hard jmll, but he did it. He took pupils, he lectured, ho wrote well and vigorously for tho press, he worked late and early with volcanic enel'gy ; and bj'' the end of three years he had not only saved the whole of the sum advanced ^y the Gideonites, but had also begun to 100 stuange stories. put away a littlo nest-egg against his marriage with Mcenio. And when the editor of a groat morning paper in London offered hiiu a permanent place upon the staff, at a largo salary, he actually went down to Worcester- shire, saw the formidable liector himself in his own parish, and demanded Meenie outright in marriage. And the Hector observed to his wife that this young Owen seemed a well-behaved and amiaWo 3'oung man ; that after all one needn't know anytliing about his relations if ono didn't like ; and that as Meenio had quite made up her mind, and was as headstrong as a mule, there was no use trying to oppose her any longer. Down in Peckham, where I'aul Owen lives, and is loved by half the poor of the district, no ono has forgotten who was the real founder of the Murgess Institute, which does so much good in encouraging tlirift, and is so admirably managed by the founder and his wife. He would take u house nowhere but at Peckham, he said. To the Peckham people ho owed his education, and for the Peckham people he Avould watch the working of his little Institute. There is no better work being done anywhere in that great squalid desert, the east and south-cast of London ; there is no influence more magnetic than the founder's. John and Margaret Owen have recovered their hopes for their boy, only they run now in another and more feasible direction ; and those who witness the good that is being done by the Institute among the poor of Peckham, or who have read that remarkable and brilliant economical work lately published on " The Future of Co-operation in the East End, by P. 0.," venture to believe that Meenie was right after all, and that even the great social world itself has not yet heard the last of young Paul Owen's lay apostolate. THE MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE IN PICCADILLY. I. I REALLY never felt so profoimclly ashamed of myself in my wliolo life as when my father-in-law, Professor W. Bryce Murray, of Oriel College, Oxford, sent mo the last number of the Proceedinirs of the Society for the Investi- gation of Supernatural Phenomena. As I opened the pamphlet, a horrible foreboding seized mo that I should find in it, detailed at full length, with my name and address in plain printing (not even asterisks), that extra- ordinary story of his about the mysterious oocurrencc in Piccadilly. I turned anxiously to page 14, which I saw was neatly folded over at the corner; and there, sure enough, I came upon the Professor's remarkable narrative, which I shall simply extract here, by way of introduction, in his own admirable and perspicuous language. "I wish to communicate to the Society," says my respected relation, *' a curious case of wraiths or doubles, which came under my own personal observation, and for which I can vouch on my own authority, and that of my son-in-law, Dr. Owen IMansfield, keeper of Accadian Antiquities at the British Museum. It is seldom, indeed, that so strange an example of a supernatural phenomenon can be independently attested by two trustworthy scientifio observers, both still living. 102 STltANGE STORIES. "On tho 12tli of May, ISTI)— I made a noto of ilio cir- ciimstanco at tliotirno, and ai)i therefore able to feel perfect coiifidenco as to the strict accuracy of my facts — I was walkin<; down riccadilly ahout four o'clock in tho after- noon, when I saw a sininlacruni or imago approaching mc from tho opposite direction, exactly resembling in outer appearance an nndergradnato of Oriel College, of tho name of Owen Manslield. It mnst bo carefully boruo in mind that at this tirao 1 was not related or connected with Mr. Manslield in any way, his marriage with my daughter having taken place some eleven months later: I only knew him then as a promising junior member of my own College. I was just about to ai)proach and address Mr. Mansfield, when a most singular and mysterious event took place. Tho fiimulacrum appeared spontaneously to glide iip towards rae with a peculiarly rapid and noiseless motion, waved a wand or slalY which it bore in its hands thrice round my head, and then vanislicd hastily in tho direction of an hotel which stands at tho corner of Albemarle Street. I followed it quickly to tho door, but on inquiry of the porter, I learned that he himself had observed nobody enter. The simula- crum Koems to have dissipated it^:elf or become invisible suddenly in tho very act of passing through the folding glass portals which give access to tho hotel from Piccadilly. " That same evening, by the last post, I received a hastily-written noto from Mr. Mansfield, bearing the Oxford postmark, dated Oriel College, 5 p.m., and relating the facts of an exactly similar apparition which had mani- fested itself to him, with absolute simultaneity of occur- rence. On the very day and hour when I had seen Mr. Mansfield's wraith in Piccadilly, Mr. Mansfield himself was walking down the Corn Market in Oxford, in tho direction of the Taylor Institute. As he approached the corner, he saw what he took to be a vision or image of myself, his tutor, moving towards him in my usual leisurely manner. Suddenly, as ho was on tho point of THIJ MYSTI'ItlOUS OCCUllRESCE IN PICCADILLY. VJW adflrcFsinc^ mc villi ropiard to my Aristotlo lectuio tlio next moniing, the im.'i^i; j^lidcd up to Lim in a nipitl and evasive manner, shook a pjrcen silk nniLrella with a rhino- ceros-horn handle three times around his head, and then di.sai)poarcd ineomprehensibly through tho door of tho liandolph Hotel. Iieturning to college in a stato oi* breathless alarm and surprise, at what ho took to bo an act of ineii)ient insanity or extreme inebriation on my part, Mr. ]\Iansfield learnt from tho porter, to his intense astonishment, tliat i was at that moment actually iu London. Unable to conceal his amazement at this strange event, ho wrote me a full account of tho facts Avhilo they wero still fresh in his memory : and as I preserve his noto to this day, I append a copy of it to my present communi- cation, for publication in tho Society's Transactions. " There is one small point in tho above narrative to which I would wish to call special attention, and that is the accuiato descriplion given by Mr. MansReM of the umbrella carried by tho apparition he observed in Oxford. Tliis umbrella exact!}'' coincided in every particular with tho one I was then actually carrying in Piccadilly. But what is truly remarkable, and what stamps tho occurrence as a genuine case of supernatural intervention, is the fact that Mr. Mamfidd could not possibly ever have seen that umhrclla in »?,y hands, hccam^c I had only just that afternoon purchased it at a shop in Bond Street. This, to my mind, conclusively proves that no mere elTort of fancy or visual delusion based upon prnvious memories, vaguo or conscious, could have had anything whatsoever to do with Mr. Mansfield's observation at le'ist. It was, in short, dis- tinctly an olijectivo apparition, as distinguished from a mere subjectivo rorainiscenco or hallucination." As I laid down the Proceedings on the breakfast table with a sigh, I said t) my wife (who had been looking over my shoulder whilo I read) : " Now, Nora, we're really in for it. What on earth do you suppose I'd better do ?" lOi STRANGE STOIUES. Nora looked at mo with licr laughing eyes laughing harder and brighter than over. "My dear Owen," bho Baid, putting tlio Proceedings promptly into tho waste paper basket, "there's really nothing on earth possible now, except to make a clean breast of it." I groaned. " I suppose you're right," I answered, " but it's a precious awkward thing to havo to do. However, hero goes." So I sat down at once with pen, ink, and paper at my desk, to draw up this present narrative as to tho real facts about tho " Mysterious Occurrence in Piccadilly." II. In 1873 I was a fourth-year man, going in for my Cu'cats at tho June examination. But as if Aristotle and Mill and the affair of Corcyra were not enough to occupy one young fellow's head at the age of twenty-three, I had foolishly gone and fallen in love, undergraduate fashion, with the only really pretty girl (I insist upon putting it, though Nora has struck it out with her pen) in all Oxford. She was tho daughter of ray tutor, Professor Bryco Murray, and her name (as the astute reader will already have inferred) was Nora. The Professor had lost his wife somo years before, and he was left to bring up Nora by his own devices, with the aid of his sister, Miss Lydia Amelia Murray, the well- known advocate of female education, woman's rights, anti-vaccination, vegetarianism, the Tichborno claimant, and psychic force. Nora, however, had no fancy for any of these multifarious interests of her aunt's : I have reason to believe she takes rather after her mother's family : and Miss Lydia Amelia Murray early decided that she was a THE MYSTERIOUS OCCUJIRENCE IN PICCADILLY. 105 parently, to my painful lack of spiritual sympathies. But the Professor condoned my failure in the regular psychical lino, in consideration of my brilliant success as a belioldcr of Avraiths and visions. After I took my degree that summer, ho used all his influenco to procure mo the post of keeper of the Accadian Antiquitic s at the ]\luseum, for which my previous studies had excellently fitted me : and by his friendly aid I was enabled to obtain tlio post, though I regret to say that, in spite of his credulity in supernatural matters, lie still refuses to believe in tlio correctness of my conjectural interpretation of the celebrated Amalckito cylinders im- ported by Mr. Ananias, which I have deciphered in so very simple and satisfactory a manner. As everybody knows, my translation may bo regarded as perfectly certain, if only one makes the very modest assumption that the cylinders were originally engraved upside down by an Aztec captive, who had learned broken Accadian, with a bad accent, from a Chinese exile, and who occasion- ally employed Egyptian hieroglyphics in incorrect senses, to piece out his own very imperfect idiom and doubtful spelling of the early Babylonian language. The solitary real doubt in the matter is whether certain extraordinary marks in the upper left-hand corner of the cylinder are to be interpreted as accidental scratches, or as a picture representing the triumph of a king over seven bound 20G STUANGE STOltlES. prisoners, or, finally, us un Accadiun sentence In cunei- forraa wliieli may Lo translated either as "To tlio memory of Om the Clreat," or else as " Pitlior the Hij;h Priest tledicatcs a fat j^ooso to the family dinner on tlio 2r)tli of the month of midwinter." Every candid and unprejudiced mind must admit tliat these small discrepancies or altei'na- tivcs in the opinions of experts can cast no doubt at all upon the general soundness of the method employed. Hut persons like the Professor, while ready to accept any evidence at all where their own prepossessions are con- cerned, can never be induced to believe such plain and unvarnished statements of simple scientific knowledge. However, the end of it all was that before I had been a month at tho Museum, I had obtained the Pi-ofessor's consent to my marriage with Nora: and as I had had Nora's own consent long before, wo were duly joined together in holy matrimony early in October at Oxford, and came at once to live in Hampstead. So, as it tui-ned out, I finally owed the sweetest and best little wife in all Christendom to the my bterious occurrence in I'iccadilly. CARVALI/0, I. TiiH first time I over met Ernest Carvalho was just before the regimental Janco at Newcastle. I had ridden up the Port lioyal mountains that same morning from our decaying sugar estate in the liiguanea plain, and I was to stop in cantonments with the 3Iajor's wife, fat little Mrs. Vrnn, who had promised my mother that she would undertake to rJia2)cron mo to this my earliest military party. I won't deny that I looked forward to it immensely, for I was llien a girl of only eighteen, fresh out from school in England, where I had been living away from our family ever since I was twelve years old. Dear mamma was a Jamaican lady of the old school, completely overpowered by the ingrained West Indian indolence ; and if I had waited to go to a dance till I could get her to accompany me, 1 might have waited till Doomsday, or probably later. So 1 was glad enough to accept fat little Mrs. W'un's proffered protection, and to go up the hills on my sure-footed mountain pony ; while Isaac, the black stable-boy, ran up behind me carrying on his thick head the small portmanteau that contained my plain white ball-dress. As I went up the steep mountain-path alone — for ladies ride only with such an unmounted domestic escort in Jamaica — I happened to overtake a tall gentleman with a 208 STUAXai: STOliJES. hantlsomo rathor Jewish faoo mid a pair of cxtrntnoly lustrons Mack eyes, who was iiiountoil on a hcaniifiil chcKtnut mare jiiHt in iVoiit of me. Tho li()i'so-})atlis in the Port It(jyal mountains are very narrow, l)ein;^ mero zipi'/ag le(l;j;cs cut half-way n\) tlio preeipitotis j^reen skipcs of fern and elub-moss, k) that there is s(d(h)ni room for two horses to pass al»reast, and it is necessary to wait al somo convenient cornei- whenever you see another rider coniinj^ in the opposite direction. At tho first opportunity the tall Jowish-lookiuj; gentleman drew aside in such a a corner, and waited for mo to pass. " I'ray don't wait," I said, as soon as I saw what he meant ; •" your horso will get up faster than my pony, and if I go in front I shall keep you l;)ack unnecessarily." " Not at all," ho answered, raising his hat gracefully ; *'you aro a stranger in the hills, I see. It is tho rulo of these mountain-paths always to givo a lady tho lead. If I go first and my maro breaks into a canter on a bit of level, your pony will try to catch her up on the stcej) slopes, and that is always dangerous." Seeing ho did not intend to move till T did, I waived tho point at last and took the lead. From that moment I don't know what on earth came over my la/.y old pony. Ho refused to go at more than a walk, or at best a jog-trot, the whole way to Newcastle. Now the rise from the plain to tho cantonments is about four thousand feet, I think (I am a dreadfully bad hand at remembering figures), and tho distance can't bo much less, I suppose, than seven miles. During all that time 3'ou never seo a soul, except a few negro pickaninnies playing in tho dustheaps, not a human habitation, except a, few huts embowered in mangoes, hibiscus-bushes, and tree-ferns. At first wo kept a decorous silence, not having been in- troduced to one another ; but the stranger's maro followed close at my pony's heels, pull her in as he would, and it seemed really too ridiculous to bo solemnly pacing CMiVALIlO. 20a after ono another, siiif;le file, in tliis -\v;iy for a mujilo <»f huuni, without Hjieakiupj a -word, out of puro jtunctilions- ncH.s. So at last wo hroko tho ice, and hm^ bcfoio wo ^nt to Newcastle wo had struck up (|uite an ac(iuaint- anco with ono another. It is wonderful how well tw(> people can get mutually known in the courno of two hours' tiUc-h-trtOf especially under such peculiar circuni. stances. You are just near enough to one another for friendly chat, and yet not too near for casual strangers. And then Isaac with tho portnuuiteau hehind was (|uito siifiicicnt escort to satisfy the cunveudnrcs. In England, one's groom would have to bo mounted, which always seems to mo, in my simi)licity, a distinction without a din'erenco. ]\[r. Carvalho was on his way up to Newcastle on tho same 'errand as myself, to go to the dance, lie might have been twenty, I suppose; and, to a girl of eighteen, boys of twenty seem quite men already. Ho was a clerk in a Government Oftico in Kingston, and w^as going to stop with a sul) at Newcastle for a w^eek or two, on leave. I did not know much about men in those days, but I needed little knowledge of tho subject to tell mo that Ernest Carvalho was decidedly clever. As soon as tho first chill woro olf our conversation, he kept mo amused tho whole Avay by his bright sketchy talk about tho petty dignitaries of a colonial capital. There was his Excellency for tho time being, and thero was the Eight Reverend of that daj', and thero was tho Jlonourablo Colonial Secretary, and there was tho Ilonourablo Director of Eoads, and there wero a number of other assorted ITonourables, whoso queer little peculiarities ho hit off dexterously in tho quaintest manner. Not that there was any unkindly satire in his brilliant conversation ; on tho contrary, he evidently liked most of tho men ho talked about, and seemed only to read and realize their characters so thoroughly that they spoke for themselves in his dra- p 210 STRANGE STOItlES. matic anecdotes. IIo appeared to mo a more genial copy of Thackeray in a colonial society, with all the sting gone, and only tlio skilful delineation of men and women loft. I had never met anyl)ody before, and I have never met anybody since, who struck mo so instantaneously with the idea of innate genius as Ernest Carvalho. " You have been in England, of course," I said, as we were nearing Newcastle. " No, never," ho answered ; " I am a Jamaican born and bred, I have never been out of the island," I was surprised, for he seemed so different from any of the young planters I had met at our house, most of whom had never oj)ened a book, apparently, in the course of their lives, while Mr. Carvalho's talk was full of indefinite literary flavour. " Whe^'o were you educated, then ? " I asked. *' I never was educated anywhere," he answered, laughing. " I went to a small school at Port Antonio during my father's life, but for the most part I have picked up whatever I know (and that's not much) wholly by myself. Of course French, like reading and writing, comes by nature, and I got enough Sjpanish to dip into Cervantes from the (Juban refugees. Latin one has to grind up out of books, naturally; an.1 as for Greek, I'm sorry to say I know very little, though, of course, I can spell out Homer a bit, and even iEschylus. But my hobby is natural science, and there a fellow has to make his own way here, for hardly anything has been done at the beasts and the flowers in the West Indies yet. But if I live, I mean to work them up in time, and I've made a fair beginning already." This reasonable list of accomplishments, given modestly, not boastfully, by a young man of twenty, wholly self- taught, fairly took my breath away. I was inspired at once with a secret admiration for Mr. Carvalho. He was so handsome and so clever that I think I was half- CARVALnO. 211 inclined to fall in lovo with him at first sight. To say tho truth, I believe almost all love is love at first sight; and for my own part, I wouldn't give you a thank-you for any other kind. " Here we must part," he said, as wo reached a fork in the narrow path just outside the steep hog's hack on which Newcastle stands, " unless you will allow me to see you safely as far as Mrs. A'enn's. The path tt) the right leads to the Major's quarters ; this on tho left takes me to my friend Cameron's hut. May I see you to tho Major's door?" " Xo, thank you," I answered decidedly ; " Isaac is escort Ciiough. Vie shall meet again this evening." " Perhaps then," he suggested, " I may have tho pleasure of a dance with you. Of course it's (piite irregular of mo to ask you now, hut wo shall be formally introduced no doubt to-night, and I'm afraid if you lunch at tho Venus' your card will be filled up by the 99th men before I can edge myself in anywhere for a dance. Will you allow me?" "Certainly," I said; "what shall it be? Tho first waltz?" " You are very kind," he answered, taking out a pencil. ^' You know my name — Carvalho ; what may I put down for yours? I haven't heard it yet." " Miss Ilazleden," I replied, " of Palmettos." Mr. Carvalho gave a little start of surprise. " Miss Ilazleden of Palmettos," he said half to himself, with a rather pained expression. " Miss Ilazleden ! Then, perhaps, I'd better — well, why not? why not, indeed? Palmettos — Yes, I will." Turning to mo, he said, louder, *' Thank yon ; till this evening, then ; " and, raising his hat, he hurried sharply round tho corner of the hill. What was there in my name, I wondered, which mado him so evidently hesitate and falter ? Fat little Mrs. Venn was very kind, and not a very 212 STJiANGi: SrOlilES. strict cliapcron, Liit I judged it best not to mention to lier this romantic episode of the handsome stranger. How- ever, during the course of lunch, I ventured casually to ask her husband whether he knew of any family in. Jamaica of the name of Carvalho. " Carvalho," answered the Major, " bless my soul, yes. Old settled family in the island ; Jews ; live down Savan- nali-la-Mar way; been hero ever since the Spanish time; doocid clever fellows, too, and. rich, most of them." "Jews," I thought; "ah, yes, Mr. Carvalho had a very handsome Jewish typo of face and dark eyes; but, why, yes, surely 1 heard him speak several times of having been to church, and once of the Cathedral at Spanish Town. This was curious." "Are any of them Christians?" I asked again. " Not a man," answered the Major ; " nut a man, my dear. Good old Jewish family ; Jews in Jamaica never turn Christians ; nothing to gain by it." Tlio dance took place in the big moss-room, looking out on the fan-palms and tree-ferns of the regimental garden. It was a lovely tropical night, moonlight of course, for all Jamaican entertainments are given at full moon, so as to let the people who ride from a distance get to and fro safely over the breakneck mou\itain horse-paths. The windows, wliich oi)en down to the ground, were flung wide for the sake of ventilation ; and thus the terrace and garden were made into a sort of vestibulo where partners might promenade and cool themselves among the tropical flowers after the heat of dancing. And yet, I don't know how it is, though the climate is so hot in Jamaica, I never danced anywhere so much or felt the heat so little oppressive. Before the first waltz, Mr. Carvalho came up, accompanied by my old friend Dr. AVade, and was properly introduced to me. By that time my card was pretty full, for of course I was a belle in those days, and being just fresh out from England was rather run after. But I will confess that CARVALIIO. 2I:T I had taken the liberty of filling in three later waltzes (unasked) with Mr. Carvalho's name, fm' I know by his very look that he could wiiUt; divinely, and I do love a good partner. lie did wait/ divinely, but at the end of the dance I was really afraid ho didn't mean to ask me again. When he did, a little hesitatingly, 1 said I had still three vacancies, and found he had not yet asked any- body else. I enjoyed those four dances more than any others that evening, the more so, perliaps, as I saw my cousin, Harry Verner of Agualta, was dying with jeah^isy because I danced so much with jMr. Carvalho. I must just say a word or two about Harry Verner. IIo was a planter j>ur saiKj, and Agualta was one of the few really flourishing sugar estates then left on tlie island. Harry w^as, therefore, naturally regarded as rather a catch ; but, for my part, I could never caro for any nui'i who has only three subjects of conversation — hiniself, vacuum-pan sugar, and the wickedness of the French bounty system, which keeps the poor planter out of his own. So I danced away with ^Mr. Carvalho, partly because I liked him just a little, you know, but partly, also, I will frankly admit, because 1 saw it annoyed Harry Verner. At the end of our fourth dance, I was strolling witli Mr. Carvalho among the great bushy poinsettias and plumbagos on the terrace, under the beautiful soft green light of that tropical moon, when Harry Verner came from one of the windows directly upon us. " I suppose you've forgotten, Edith," he said, " that you're engaged to me for the next lancers. Mr. (Jarvalho, I kncjvv you are to dance with Miss AVade ; hadn't you better go and look for your partner ? " He spoke pointedly, almost rudely, and Mr. Carvalho took the hint at once. As soon as he was gone, Harry turned round to ine fiercely and said in a low angry voice, " You shall not dance this lancers, you shall sit it out with 214 STRAXGE STORIES. mo here in the garden ; como over to the seat in the far corner." Ho led mo resistlcssly to tho seat, away from the noiso of tho re<;iraental band and the dancers, and then sat him- self down at the far end from me, like a great surly bear that ho was. '* A pretty fool yon'vo been making of yourself to-night, Edith," ho said in a tone of suppressed anger, " with that fellow Carvalho. Do you know who he is, miss? Do you know who he is ? " " No," I answered faintly, fearing ho was going to assure mo tliat my clever new acquaintance was a notorious swindler or a runaway ticket-of-leave man. " Well, then, I'll tell you," he cried angrily. " I'll tell you. He's a coloured man, miss ! that's what ho is." " A coloured man ? " I exclaimed in surprise ; ♦' why, he's as white as you and I are, every bit as white, Harry." *' So ho may bo, to look at," answered my cousin; "but a brown man's a brown man, all the same, however much white blood lie may have in him ; you can never breed the nigger out. Confound his impudence, asking you to dance four times witli him in a single evening ! You, too, of all girls in the island ! Confound his impudence ! Why, his mother was a slave girl once on Palmettos estate ! " " Oh, Harry, you don't mean to say so," I cried, for I was West Indian enough in my feelings to have a certain innate horror of coloured blood, and I was really shocked to think I had been so imprudent as to dance four times with a brown man. "Yes, I do mean it, miss," he answered ; " an octaroon slave girl, and Carvallio's her son by old Jacob Carvalho, a Jew merchant at the back of the island, who was fool enough to go and actually marry her. So now you seo what a pretty mess you've gone and been and made of it. We shall have it all over Kingston to-morrow, I suppose, CARVALIIO. 215 that Miss Hazlcden, a Ilazleclen and a Verner, has been flirting violently with a bit of coloured scum off her own grandfather's estate at Palmettos. A nice thing for the family, indeed ! " " But, Harry," I said, pleading, " he's such a perfect gentleman in his manners and conversation, so very much superior to a great many Jamaican young men." •' Hang it all, miss," said Ilarrj'- — ho used a stronger expression, for ho was not particular about swearing before ladies, but I won't transcribe all his oaths — " hang- it all, that's the way of you girls wlio have been to Eng- land. If I had fifty daughters I'd never send one of 'em home, not I. You go over there, and you get enlightened, as you call it, and you learn a lot of radical fal-lal about equality and a-man-and-a-brother, and all that humbug ; and then you come back and despise your own people, who are gentlemen and the sons of gentlemen for fifty genera- tions, from the good old slavery days onward. I wish wo had them here again, I do, and I'd tie up that fellow Car- valho to a horse-post and flog him with a cow-hide within an inch of his life." I was too much accustomed to Harry's manners to make any protest against this vigorous suggestion of reprisals. I took his arm quietly. " Let us go back into the ball- room, Harry," I said as persuasively as I was able, for I loathed the man in my heart, " and for heaven's sake don't make a scene about it. If there is anything on earth I detest, it's scenes." Next morning I felt rather feverish, and dear fat littlo Mrs. Venn was quite frightened about me. " If you go down again to Liguanea with this fever on you, my dear," she said, "you'll get yellow Jack as soon as you are home again. Better write and ask your mamma to let you stop a fortnight with us here." I consented, readily enough, for, of course, no girl of eighteen ever in her heart objects to military society, and 2IG STRANGE STOIilES. the 99th wcro really very pleasant well-intentioned younpj Ibllows. But I made up my mind that if I stayed I would take particular caro to yuo no more of Mr. Carvallio. lie was very clover, very fascinating, very nice, hut tlien — ho was a brown man ! Tliat was a bar tiiat no West Indian }.!;iil could ever be expected to get over. As ill-luck wonld have it, however — I write as I then felt — about three days after, Mrs. Venn said to me, '' I'vo invited Mr. Cameron, one of our siib-lieutonants, to dine this evening, and I've had to invito his guest, young Carvallio, as well. By the w'ay, Edie, if I were you, I Avouldn't talk qnite so ninch as you did the other evening to Mr. Carvallio. You know, dear, though ho doesn't look it, he's a broAvn man." •' I didn't know it," I answered, " till the end of the evening, and then llariy Verner told mo. I wouldn't have danced with him more than once if I'd known it." *' Wonderful how that young fellow has managed to edge himself into society," said the major, looking np from his book ; " devilish odd. Son of old Jacob Carvallio : Jacob left him all his coin, not very much ; picked up his ABC somewhere or other ; got into Government service ; asked to Governor's dances ; goes everywhere now. Can't understand it." " Well, my dear," says Mrs. Venn, " why do we ask him ourselves ? " "Because we can't help it," says the major, testily. " Cameron goes and picks him uj) ; ought to be in the Engineers, Cameron; too doocid clever for the line and for this regiment. Always picks up some astronomer fellow, or some botanist fellow, or some fellow who under- stands fortification or something. Competitive examina- tion's ruin of the service. Get all sorts of people into the regiment now. Believe Cameron himself lives upon his pay almost, hanged if I don't." That evening, Mr. Carvalho came, and I liked him better m.: CARVALnO. 217 than ever. ^Ir. Cameron, who was a l)rother botanist and a nice ingennous young Ilighhinder, nuido liim bring his portfolio of Jamaica ferns and flowers, the loveliest things I ever saw — dried specimens and water-colour .sketches to accompany them of the plants themselves as they grew naturally, lie told us all about them so enthusiastically, and of how he used to employ almost all his holidays in the mountains hunting for specimens. " I'm afraid the fellows at the office think mo a dreadful muff for it," ho said, " but I can't help it, it's born in me. My mother is a descendant of Sir Hans Sloane's, who lived here for several years — the founder of the British 3Iuseum, you know — and all her family have always had a taste for bush, as the negroes call it. You knovv, a good many mulatto people have the blood of able English families in their veins, and that accounts, I believe, for their usual high average of general intelligence." I was surprised to hear him speak so unaffectedly of his ancestry on the wrong side of the house, for most light coloured jicoplo studiously avoid any reference to their .social disabilities. I liked him all the better, however, for • he perfect frankness with which he said it. If only ho hadn't been a brown man, now ! But there, you can't get over those fundamental race prejudices. Next morning, as the Major and I were out riding, we •oame again across Mr. Cameron and Mr. Carvalho. Fate really seemed determined to throw us together. We were going to the Fern Walk to gather gold and silver ferns, and Mr. Carvalho was bound in the same direction, to look for some rare hill-top flowers. At the Walk we dis- mounted, and, while the two officers went hunting about among the bush, Mr. Carvalho and I sat for a while upon Mi big rock in the shade of a mountain palm. The con- versation happened to come round to somewhat the same turn as it had taken the last evening. " Yes," said Mr Carvalho, in answer to a question of 218 STItANGE STOIIIES. luino, "I do think that muhittos and quadroons arc gener- ally cleverer than the average run of white people. You see, mixture of race evidently tends to increase the total amount of brain power. There are pecsuliar gains of brain on the one side, and other peculiar gains, however small, on the other ; and tlie mixture, I fancy, tends to preserve or increase both. That is why the descendants of Hugue- nots in England, and the descendants of Italians in France, show generally such great ability." " Then you yourself ought to bo an example," I said, " for your name seems to be Spanish or rortuguese." " Spanish and Jewish," he answered, laugliing, " though I didn't niean to give a side-puff to myself. Yes, I am of very mixed race indeed. On my father's side I am Jewish, though of course the Jews acknowledge nobody who isn't a pure-blooded descendant of Abraham in both lines ; and for that reason I have been brought up a Christian. On my mother's side I am partly negro, partly English, partly Haitian French, and, through the Sloanes, partly Dutcli as well. So you see I am a very fair mixture." "And that accounts," I said, "for your being so. clever." He blushed and bowed a little demure bow, but said nothing. It's no use fighting against fate, and during all that fortnight I did nothing but run up against Mr. Carvalho. Wherever I went, he was sure to be; wherever I wa» invited, he was invited to meet me. The fact is, I had somehow acquired the reputation of being a clever girl, and, as Mr. Cameron was by common consent the clever man of his regiment, it was considered proper that ho (and by inference his guest) should be always asked to entertain me. The more I saw of Mr. Carvalho the better I liked him. He was so clever, and yet so simple and unassuming, that one couldn't help admiring and sympa- thizing with him. Indeed, if he hadn't been a brown CATtVALIIO. 219 man, 1 almost think I should have fallen in lovo witli him outright. At tho end of a fortnight I wont back to Palniottos. A few (lays after, who should come to call hut old General Farquhar, and with him, of all men in tho world, Mr. Car- vallio I Mamma was furious. She managed to bo frigidly- polite as long as they stopi)ed, but when they were gono slie went off at once into one of her worst nervous crisise.s (that's not tho regular plural, I'm sure, but no matter). " I knoAv his mother when she was a slave of your grand- fjither's," sho said ; " an upstanding proud octaroon girl, who thought herself too good for her place because sho was nearly a white woman. She left tho estate imme- diately after that horrid emancipation, to keep a school of brown girls in Kingston. And then sho had the insolence to go and get actually married at church to old Jacob Carvalho! Just like those brown people. Their grand- mothers never married." For poor mamma always made it a subject of reproach against tho respectable coloured folk that they tried to live more decently and properly than their ancestors used to do in slavery times. Mr. Carvalho never came to Palmettos again, but when- ever I went to Kingston to dances I met him, and in spito of mamma I talked to him too. Ono day I went over to a ball at Government House, and there I saw both hin\ and Harry Verner. For the first time in my life I had two proposals made me, and on the same night. Harry Vomer's came first. " Edie," he said to me, between the dances, as we were strolling out in the gardens, West Indian fashion, " I often think Agualta is rather lonely. It wants a lady to look after the house, while I'm down looking after the cane pieces. We made the best return in sugar of any estate on the island, last year, you know ; but a man can't subsist entirely on sugar. He wants sympathy and intellectual companionship." (This was quite an efibrt 220 STJiAXGE STOlilJJJ. for Ilany.) "Now, I've not Loon in a hnriy to get married. I've waited till I could find some one whom I could thoroughly respect and admire as well a.s love. I've looked at all the girls in Jamaica, before making my choice, and I've determined not to be guided by monetary considerations or any otlior considerations except those of the affections and of real undorlyino- goodness and intellect. I feel that you are the one girl 1 have met who is far and away ni}' superior in evoiythiuo- worth living for, Edie ; and I'm going to ask you whether you will make me proud and happy for ever by becomiu*'- the mistress of Agualta." I felt that Harry was really conceding so very much to me, and honouring me so greatly by offering me a life partnership in that flourishing sugar-estate, that it really Avent to my heart to have to refuse him. But I told him plainly I could not marry him because i did not love him. Harry seemed quite surprised at my refusal, but answered politely that perhaps I might learn to love him hereafter, that ho would not be so foolish as to press me further now, and that he would do his best to deserve my love in future. And v*^ith that little speech he led me back to the ball- room, and handed me over to my next partner. Later on in the evening, Mr. Carvalho too, with an earnest look in his handsome dark eyes, asked leave to take me for a few turns in the garden. We sat down on a bench under the great mango tree, and he began to talk to me in a graver fashion than usual. " Your mother was annoyed, I fear. Miss Hazleden," he said, " that I should call at Palmettos." " To tell you the truth," I answered, " I think she was." " I was afraid she would be — I knew she would be, in fact ; and for that very reason I hesitated to do it, as I hesitated to dance with you the first time I met you, as soon as I knew who you really were. But I felt I ought to face it out. You know by this time, no doubt, Miss CAIIVALIIO. 221 Ha/lcdcn, tli now. She sank back in a chair and folded her hands faintly one above the otlicr. " Tell mo it all," she said in a weak voice. " I will hear vou." 80 I told her all. I did not try to extenuate my own weakness in writing from my mother's dictation ; but I let her sec what I had suffered then and what I had suffered since. When I had finished, she drew me towards her gently, and printed one kiss upon my forehead. "It is hard to forget," she said softly, '" but you were very young and helpless, and your nujther was a terrible woman. Tlie iron has entered into your own Boul too. Go homo, dear, and I will see about this matter." We fell upon one another's necks, the Palmettos slave- girl and I, and cried together glad tears for ten minutes. Then I wiped my red eyes dry, covered them with a 232 STRANGE STORIES. double fold of my A'cil, and ran homo hurriedly in the dusk to auntie's. It was wuch a terrible relief to have got it all over. That evening, about eleven o'clock, auntie had gone to bed, and I was sitting up by myself, musing late over the red cinders in the little back drawing-room grate. i felt as though I couldn't sleep, and so I was waiting up till T got sleepy. Suddenly there came a loud knock und a ring at the l)ell, after which Amelia ran in to say that a gentleman wanted to see me in the dining-room on urgent business, and would I please come down to speak with him immediately. I knew at onco it was Ernest. The moment I entered the room, he never said a w^ord, but he took my two hands eagerly in his, and then ho kissed mo fervently on the lips half a dozen times over. " And now, Edith," he said, " we need say no more about the past, for my mother has explained it all to me ; wo will only think about the future." I have no distinct recollection what o'clock it was before Ernest left that evening ; but I know auntie sent down word twice to say it was high time I went to bed, and poor Amelia looked awfully tired and very sleepy. However, it was settled then and there that Ernest and I should be married early in October. A few days later, after the engagement had been announced to all our friends, dear Mrs. Bouverie Barton paid me a congratulatory call. ''You are a very lucky girl, my dear," she said to me kindly. " We are half envious of you ; I wish we could find another such husband as Mr. Carvalho for my Christina. But you liave carried off the prize of the season, and you are well worthy of him. It is a very great honour for any girl to win and deserve the love of such a man as Ernest Carvalho." Will you believe it, so strangely do one's first impres- CAItVALlIO. 2:^3 sions and early ideas about people cling to one, that though I hud often felt heforo how completely the tahles had been turned since wo two canio to Knglaiid, it had not struck mo till that moment that in the eyes of the world at large it was Ernest who was doing an lionour to me and not I who was doing an honour to Ernest. I felt ashamed to think that Mrs. Bouverio Barton should see instinctively the true state of the ease, while I, wlu> loved and admired him so greatly, should have let tho tdiadow of that old prejudice stand even now between mo and tho lover I was so ]>n)ud to own. But when I took dear old Mrs. Carvalho's hand in mine the day of our wedding, and kissed her, and called her mother for tho first time, I felt that I had left the guilt and shame of slavery for ever behind me, and that I should strive ever after to live worthily of Ernest Carvalho's love. : PAUSODYNE: A GREAT CHEMICAL DISCOVERY. "Walking along the Strand one evening last year towards Pall Mall, I was accosted near Charing Cross Station by a Btrange-looking, middle-aged man in a poor suit of clothes, who surprised and startled mo by asking if I could tell him from what inn the coach usually started for York. " Dear me ! " I said, a little puzzled. " I didn't know there was a coach to York. Indeed, I'm almost certain there isn't one." The man looked puzzled and surprised in turn. *' No coach to York ? " he muttered to himself, half inarticu- lately. " No coach to York ? How things have changed I I wonder whether nobody ever goes to York nowadays ! " "Pardon me," I said, anxious to discover what could be his meaning ; " many people go to York every day, but of course they go by rail." " Ah, yes," ho answered softly, " I see. Yes, of course, they go by rail. They go by rail, no doubt. IIow very stupid of me !" And he turned on his heel as if to get away from me as quickly as possible. I can't exactly say why, but I felt instinctively that this curious stranger was trying to conceal from mo his jgnoranco of what a railway really was. I was quita certain from the way in which he spoke that he had not PAUSODYNE. 233 tho sliglitcst conception Avliat I meant, Jintl that lio was doing his best to hide his confusion by pretending to understand nic. Hero was indeed a strange mystery. In tho latter end of tliis nincteentli century, iu tho metropolis of industrial ihigland, within a stone's-throw of Charing Cross terminus, I had met an adult Englishman who apparently did not know of tho existence of railways. My curiosity was too niucli pi(iued to let tho matter rest there. I must find out what lie meant by it. I walked after him hastily, as ho tried to disappear among tho crowd, and laid my hand upon his shoulder, to his evident chagrin. " Excuse mo," I said, drawing him aside down tho corner of Craven Street ; " you did not understand what 1 meant when I said jieoplo went to York by rail ? " He looked in my face steadily, and then, instead of replying to my remark, ho said slowly, " Your name is ►Spottiswood, I believe?" Again I gave a start of surprise. " It is," I answered ; *' but I never remember to have seen you before." " No," ho replied dreamily ; " no, we have never met till now, no doubt ; but I know your father, I'm sure ; or perhaps it may have been your grandfather." " Not my grandfather, certainly," said I, " for he waa killed at Waterloo." " At Waterloo! Indeed ! How long since, pray ? " I could not refrain lr1 observe how well tlio .scliomo hangs togotlier. AiKlon-it formed an imdoul)ted and integral portion of the Roman Empire, having been ineluded in licgion VII., Diocese !','> (Ilispania Citerior VIII.), under the division of J)io- cletian. r>nt the Empire liaving gone to pieces at the present day, any fragment of that Empire may ro-consti- tute itself the whole ; " just as the tentacle of a hydi a polype," said Don Pedro (wlio, you Icnow, was a very learned man), " ms,y ro-constituto itself into a perfect animal, by developing a body, liead, mouth, and foot-stalk. " (This, as you are well aware, is called the Analogical Method of I'olitical Reasoning.) Therefore, there was n(. just cause or impediment why Andorra should not set u]> to bo the original and only genuine representative of tlic Holy Roman Empire, all others being spurious imitationt^. — Q. E. D. The town clerk had further determined in his own mind that ho himself was the Karl (not Charlemagne i who was destined to raise up this revived and splendid Roman Empire. lie had already struck coins in imagin- ation, bearing on the obverse his imago and superscrip- tion, and the proud title " Imp. Petrus P. E. Aug. Pater Patriae Cos. XVIII. ; " with a reverse of Victory crowned, and the legend "Renovatio Romanorum." But this part of his scheme he kept as yet deeply buried in the recesses of his own soul. As regards the details of this Cresarian plan, much diversity of opinion existed in the minds of the Liberal leaders. Don Pedro himself, as champion of education, proposed that the new Emperor should be elected by competitive examination ; in which case he felt sure that his own knowledge of the Holy Roman Empire would easily place him at the head of tho list. But his colleague. Don Luis Dacosta, who was tho Joseph Hume of Andorran polities, rather favoured the notion of sending in sealed tenders for executing tho office of Sovereign, the State not 2o8 STRANGE STOUIhS. binding its;ilf to accept tlio lowest or any other tender; and lio liad hinisclt" determined to make an olfer for wearing the crown at tlio modest icmuneration of three hundred pounds per annum, payable quarterly. Again, Don lago Montcs, a poetical young man, -wlio believed lirmly in prcatujo^ advocated the id(,'a of inviting the younger son of some German Grand-Duko to accept the Imperial Crown, and the faithful hearts of a loyal Andorran people, liut those minor points could easily bo settled iu the future : and the important object for the immediate present, said Don Pedro, was tlio acceptance hi p'lncipU of the resuscitated Holy lioman Empire. Don Pedro's designs, however, met with considerable opposition from the Conservative party in the Folk Mote. (They called it Polk jMotc, and not Cortes or Fueros, on pui'posc to annoy historical critics ; and for the same reason they always styled tlioir chief magistrate, not the Alcalde, but the P>urgomaster.) The Conservative leader, Don Juan Pereira (first and last names only ; intermediate thirty-eight omitted for want of space \) wisely observed that the good old constitution had suited our fathers admirably ; that wo did not wish to go beyond the wisdom of our ancestors ; that young men were apt to prove thoughtless or precipitate; and finally that " Nolunms leges Andorroc mutare." Hereupon, Don I'edro objected that the growing anarchy of the citizens, whose stabbings were increasing by geometiical progression, called for the establishment of a strong government, whicli should curb the lawless habits of the jeuncsse doree. lint Don Juan retorted that stabbing was a very useful practice in its way; that no citizen ever got stabbed unless lie liad made Iiimself obnoxious to a fellow-citizen, which was a gross and indefensible piece of incivism ; and that stilettos had always been considered extremely respectable instruments by a large number of deceased Andorran worthies, whoso names ho proceeded to recount in a long and somewhat Tiu: i:Mrjir:ss of AXDoniiA. 259 tedious cata'ioguc. (This, you know, is called the Argu- ment from Anthorit}'.) Tlio Folk ^Voto, which consisted of men over forty alone, nnanimonsly adopted Don Juan's views, and at once rejected the town clerk's ]>ill for the licsuscitatitm of the Holy Iioman Empire. Thus driven to extremities, the town clerk determined upon a coup (Vet at. The appeal to the people alone could save Andorran Society. ]5ut being as cautious as ho was ahihitious, ho decided not to display his hand too openly at first. Accordingly ho resolved to elect an Empress to hegin with ; and then, by marrying the Empress, to l)ecomo Emperor-Consort, after which ho could easily secure the Imperial crown on his own account. To ensure the success of this excellent notion, Don i'edro trusted to the emotions of tho populace. Tlie way lie did it was simply this. At that particular juncture, a beautiful young prima donna had lately l)een engaged for the National Italian Opera, Andorra. She was to appear as the Grande DncJiesse on tho very evening after that on which tho Resuscitation Bill had been thrown out on a third reading. Tliis amiable lady bore the name of Signorita Nora Obrienelli. She was of Italian parentage, but born in America, where her father, Signor Patricio Obrienelli, a banished Nea- politan nobleman and patriot, had been better known as Paddy O'Brien; having adopted that disguise to protect himself from the ubiquitous emissaries of King Bomba. lEowever, on her first appearance upon any stage, the Signorita once more resumed her discarded patronymic of Obrienelli ; and it is this circumstance ah^nt^ which has led certain scandalous journalists maliciously to assert that her father was really an Irish chimney-sweep. But not to dwell on these genealogical details, it will suffice to say that Signorita Nora was a beautiful young lady with a magnificent soprano voice. The enthusiastic and gallant Andurrans were already wild at the mere sight of her 2G0 STJiANOr: STORIKS. l)caiity, and expected g-rciit tilings from her operatic powers. Don IV'dro marked iiis oppoitunit}'. (.'ailing; on tlio inlma donna in the ai'ternoon, faidllossly attired in frock- coat, cliiinnry-pot, and lavender kid gloves, the ambitious politician offered her a h()n(pict worth at least throe-aod- sixpenco, accompanied hy a profound how; and inquired Avhether the title and position of Empress would suit hor views. "Down to tho ground, my dear Don Pedro," replied the impulsive actress. " The resuscitation of tho Holy Roman Empire has long been the dream of my existence." Half an hour sufficed to settle the details. The pro- tocols were signed, tho engagements delivered, and tho fate of Andorra, with that of the Holy lioman Empire attached, trembled for a moment in the balance. Don I'edro hastily left U> organi/c the coup iVi'tat, and to hire a special body of claqnenrs for tho occasion. Evening drew on apace, big with the fato of IV'dro and of Eome. The Opera House was crowded. Stalls and boxes glittered with the partisans of tho Liberal leader, tho expectant hero of a revived Ca>sarism. The claque occupied the pit and gallery. Enthusiasm, real and simu- lated, knew no bounds. Signorita Obrienclli was almost smothered with bouquets ; and the music of catcalls re- sounde(l throughout tho house. At length, in the second act, when the; prima donna entered, crown on head and robes (^f state trained behind, in tho official costume of tho Grand-Duchess of (lerolstein, Don Pedro raised himself from his seat and cried in a loud voice, " Long live Nora, Empress of Andorra and of the Holy Poman Empire ! " Tho whole audience rose as one man. " Long live the Empress," re-echoed from every side of the building. Handkerchiefs waved ecstatically; women sobbed with emotion ; old men w^ept tears of joy that they had lived to behold the Penovationof the Poraans. In five minutes Tin: IMVRKSS OF ANDOniLl. '2C,\ tho rcvolulion ^vas a fait nccompU. Don Jiiaii Poroira obtained early news of tho coiij) (Vctat, and tied precipitately aeross tho border, to escape tho i)opular veiii:;eance — not a diflicult feat, as the bonndaries of the (piondani liepublir (ixtended only five miles in any direction. Tlieneo tho broken-hearted old patriot betook himself into France, M'hero ho intended at first to commit suicide, in imitation of Cato ; but on second tlious2;hts, lie decided to proceed to Ouernsey, where he entered into ne_t;-otiation8 for pui-elias- iug Victor Hugo's house, and 1ried to him that the phrase might bo misinterpreted as referring to the somewhat exiguous extent of the Andorran territory : and as he wished it to be understood that the new State was an aggressive Power, which contemplated the final absorption of all the other Latin races, he wisely refrained from the equivocal title. However, he settled the Constitution on a broad and liberal basis, after the following fashion. I quote from his rough draft-sketch, the completed document being too long for insertion in full. " The supreme authority resides in the Sovereign and the Folk Mote. The Sovereign reigns, but does not govern (at present). The Folk Mote has full legislative and deliberative powers. It consists of fourteen members, chosen from the fourteen wards of East and West Andorra. (Members for Spain, France, Portugal, and Italy may hereafter be added, raising the total complement tO' eighteen.) The right of voting is granted to all persons, male or female, above eighteen years of age. The execu- Tin: EMPUESS OF ANDOIiliA. 2C,3 tive powor rests witli tlio Clianccllor of tlio Empire, who acts in tlio iiiiino of tho Suvoreit^n. IIo posMosscs a ri;:;]it of veto on all acts of tho Folk jMote. Ills olliei! is per- petual. Vifnt I)iipeyatrix /^^ This (.'oiistitution -was proposed to a riihlic Assenihly or Cornitia of tho Anih)rran peo[)le, and was iinnn-d lately carried 7/('?H. COM. Enthusiasm was tho order of tho day: ]Jon Tedro was a handsome younjj; man, of p-rsoiial p()[)U- larity: tho hidies of Andorra were delii^litod with any Behemo of ^'()vernnicnt which oit'eri'd them a vote : and tho mon had all a high opinion of JJon Pedro's learning'. ^0 nohody opposed a singlo "Tauso of tho Constitution on any ground. Tho next stop to bo taken consisted in gaining tho affec- tions of tho Empress. But hero Don Tedro found to his cunsternation that ho had reckoned without; his hostess. It is an easy thing to make a revolution iu the body politic, hut it is much more serious to attempt a I'evolution in a woman's heart. Her Majesty's had long l)et'n Lestowed olscwhero. It is true she had encouraged Don Pedro's attentions on his lirst momentous visit, but that might bo largely accounted for on political grounds. It is true also thatsho was still cpiitc ready to carry on an innocent flirta- tion with her handsome young (Jhancellor when ho camo to deliberate upon matters of state, Imt that she had often done before with tho lout of an actor who took tho part of Fritz. "Prince," she would say, with one of her sunny smiles, " do just wdiat you like about tho Permissive I'ro- hibitory Pill, and let us have a glass of sparkling Sillery together in tho Council Chamber. You and I aro too young, and, shall I say, too good-looking, to trouble our poor little heads about politics and such rubbish. Youth, after all, is nothing without champagno and love ! " And yet her heart — her heart w as over tho sea. During one of her starring engagements among the Central American States, Signorita ObriencUi had made tho 2G4 STRANGE STORIES. acquaintanco of Don Carlos INIontillado, eldest son of the President of Guatemala. A mutual attachment had sprung up between the young couple, and had taken the practical form of bou([uets, bracelets, and cliampagne suppers; but, alas ! the dilfcrence in their ranks had long hindered the fulfilment of Don ( ^arlos's anxious vows. Ilis Excellency tho President constantly declared tliat nothing could induce him to consent to a marriage between his son and a strolling actrcs-s — in such insolent terms did the wretch allude to tho future occupant of an Imperial throne ! Now, however, all was changed. Fate had smiled upon tho happy lovers, and Don Carlos was already on his way to Andorra . as Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary from tho Guatemalan llopublic to the renovated Empire. The poor Chancellor discovered too late that he had baited a hook for his own destruction. However, ho did not yet despair. To be sure the Empress, young, beautiful, and with a magnificent soprano voice, had seated herself firndy in the hearts of her sus- ceptible subjects. Besides, her engaging manners, marked by all the charming abandon of the stage, allowed her to make conquests freely among her liegcj, each of whom she encouraged in turn, while smiling slily at the discarded rivals. Still, Don Pedro took heart once more. " Eevo- lution enthroned her," he muttered between his teeth, *' and counter-revolution shall disenthrone her yet. These silly people will smirk and bow while she pretends to be in love with every one of them from day to day ; but when once the young Guatemalan has carried off tho prize they will regret their folly, and turn to the Chancellor, whose heart has always been fixed upon the welfare of Andorra." With this object in viyw, the astute politician worked harder than over for the regeneration of the State. His policy falls under two heads, the External and the Internal. Each head deserves a passing mention from the laborious historian. TUE EMPRESS OF A2sDUltRA. 265 Don Pedro's External Policy consisted in the annexation of Franco, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, and tlio amalga- mation of the Latin races. Accordingly, lie despatched Ambassadors to the courts of those four Powers, informing them that the Holy Roman Empire had been resuscitated in Andorra, and inviting them to send in their adhesion to tlio now State. In that case he assured them that each country should possess a representative in the Imperial Folk Mote on the same terms as the several wards of An- dorra itself, and that the settlement of local affairs should be loft unreservedly to the minor legislatures, while tho Chancellor of tho Empire in person would manage tho military and naval forces and the general executive de- partment of tho whole Confederation. As the four Powers refused to take any notice of Don Pedro's manifesto, tho Chancellor declared to the Folk Mote his determination of treating them as recalcitrant rebels, and reducing them by force of arms. However, the Andorrau army not being thoroughly mobilized, and indeed having fallen into a state of considerable demoralization, the ambitious prince decided to postpone tho declaration of war «inc die; and his Foreign Policy accordingly stood over for tho timo being. Don Pedro's Internal Policy embraced various measures of Finance, Electoral Law, Public Morals, and Polico Regulation. The financial position of Andorra was now truly deplor- able. In addition to the expenses of the Imperial Election, and the hire of post-horses for the Bishop of Urgel to attend the coronation, it cannot be denied that the Empress had fallen into most extravagant habits. She insisted upon drinking Veuve Clicquot every day for dinner, and upon ordering large quantities of olives farcies and pate de foie grasy to which delicacies she was inordinately attached. She also sent to a Parisian milliner for two now bonnets, and had her measure taken for &poult de Lyon dress. These 2G6 STEANGE STOllIES. expensive tastes, contracted npon the stapjo, soon drained tlio Andorran Excliequcr, and the Folk Mote was at its ■\vits>' end to dcvi,«c a Budget. One radical member had even the Lad tasto to call for a return of Her Majesty's millinery bill ; but tins motion tho ITouso firmly and politely declined to sanction. At last Don Pedro stepped in to solve the difficulty, and proposed an Act for the Inflation of the Currency. Inflation is a very simple financial process indeed. It consists in writing on a smull piece of white paper, " This is a Dollar," or, " This is a I'ound," as tho case may be, and then compelling your creditors to accept the paper as payment in full for the amount written upon its face. The scheme met with perfect success, and Don Pedro was much bepraised by tho press as the glorious regenerator of Andorran Finance. Among the Chancellor's plains for electoral reform tho most important was tho Bill for the Promotion of Infant Suffrage. Don Pedro shrewdly argued that if you wished to be popular in tho future, you must enlist the sympathies of tho rising generation by conferring upon them some signal benefit. Hence his advocacy of Infant Suffrage. In his great speech to the Folk Mote upon this important measure, he pointed out that the brutal doctrine of an appeal to force in the last resort ill befitted the nineteenth century. Many infants owned property ; therefore they ought to bo represented. Their property was taxed ; no taxation without representation ; therefore they ought to bo rejDresented. Great cruelties were often practised upon them by their parents, which showed how futile was the argument that their parents vicariously represented them ; therefore they ought to be directly represented. An honourable member on the Opposition side had suggested that dogs were also taxed, and that great cruelties were occasionally practised upon dogs. Those facts were per- fectly true, and he could only say that they proved to him THE EMPJIESS OF ANDORRA. 207 the thorough desirability of insuring representation for dogs at some future day. But wc must not movo too fast. Ho was no hasty radical, no violent rec!)nstructionist ; ho preferred, stone by stone, to build up the sure and perfect fabric of their liberties. So he would waive for the time being the question concerning the rights of dogs, and only movo at present the third reading of the Bill for tho* Promotion of Infant Suffrage. A division was hardly necessary. The Ilonse passed the Act by a majority of twelve out of a total of fourteen members. The Bills for the Gratuitous Di>tribution of Lollipops, for the Wednesday and Saturday Whole Holidays, and for the Total Abolition of Latin Grammar, followed as a matter of course. Tho minds of the infant electors were thus thoroughly enlisted on the Chancellor's side. As to Moral Kegeneration, that was mainly ensured l)y the Act for the Absolute Suppression of tho Tea Trade. No man, said the Chancellor, had a right to endanger tho health and happiness of his posterity by tho pernicious habit of tea-drinking. Alcohol they had suppressed, and tobacco they had suppressed ; but tea still remained a plague-spot in their midst. It had been proved that tea and coffee contained poisonous alkaloid principles, known as theine and caffeine (here tho Chancellor displayed tlic full extent of his chemical learning), which were all but absolutely identical with the poisonous principles of opium, prussic acid, and atheistical literature generally. It might be said that this Bill endangered the liberty of the subject. No man had a greater respect for tho liberty of the subject than he had; ho adored, he idolized, lie honoured with absolute apotheosis the liberty of the subject ; but in what did it consist? Not, assuredly, in the right to imbibe a venomous drug, which polluted the stream of life for future generations, and was more productive of manifold diseases than even vaccination itself. " Tea," cried the orator passionately, raising his voice till the fresh white- 2G8 STRANGE STOPJES. wash on tlio ceiling of tlio Council CLanibcrtremLled with sympathetic emotion ; " Tea, forsooth ! Call it rather Btrychniuo ! Call it arsenic ! Call it the deadly Upas-tree of Java {Antiaris ioxicaria, Linnceiis) " — what prodigious learning ! — " which poisons with its fatal breath wnoover ventures to pass beneath its baleful shadow I I see it driving out of the fiekl the harmless clujcolate of our fore- fathers ; I see it forcing its way into the earliest meal of morning, and the latest meal of eve. I see it now once more swarming over the Pyrenees from France, with Paris fashions and bad romances, to desecrate the sacred hoi>r of five o'clock with its newfangled presence. The infant in arms finds it rendered palatable t(j his tender years by the insidious addition of copious milk and sugar ; the hallowed reverence of age forgets itself in disgraceful excesses at the refreshment-room of railway stations. This is the ubiquitous pest whicli distils its venom into every sex and every age! This is the enchanted chalice of the Cathaian Circe which I ask you to repel to-day from the lips of the young, the pure, and the virtuous ! " It was an able and eloquent effort ; but even the Chan- cellor's powers were all but overtasked in so hard a struggle against ignorance and prejudice. Unhappily, several of the members were themselves secretly addicted to that cup of five o'clock tea to which Don Pedro so feelingly alluded. In the end, however, by taking advantage of the temporary absence of three senators, who had gone to indulge their favourite vice at home, the Bill triumphantly passed its third reading by an overwhelming majority of chocolate drinkers, and became forthwith the law of the Holy Roman Empire. Meanwhile Don Carlos jMontillado had oi-ossed the stormy seas in safety, and arrived by special mule at the city of Andorra. He took up his quarters at the Guatemalan Embassy, and immediately sent his card to the Empress and the Chancellor, requesting tlie honour of an early interview. THE EMPRESS OF AXDOIillA. 209 Tho Empress at (incu deHpatchod a noto request in j^ Don Carlos to present himself without dchiy in tlio private drawing-room of tho Palace. Tho happy lover and am- bassador flow to her side, and for ludf an liour tho pair enjoyed the dolici(Mis Paradise of a niutnal attaohment. At the end of tluit period Don Pedro presented himself at tho door. " Your ^lajesty," ho exclaimed in a tone of suriirise, '* this is a most irregular proceeding. ITis Excellency tho Guatemalan Ambassador should havo calh'd in tho first instance upon tho Imporiiil Chancellor." " Prince," replied tho Empress firmly, " I refuse to give you audience at present. I am engaged on private busi- ness — on strirth/ private business — with his Excellency." " Excuse me," said tho Chancellor blandly, " but I must assure your Majesty " " Leave tho room. Prince," said the Empress, with an impatient gesture. " Leave the room at onc(> ! " "Leave the room, fellow, when a lady s^pcaks to you.'' cried the impetuous young Guatemalan, drawing his sword, and pushing Don Pedro bodily out of the door. The die was cast. The Pubicon was crossed. Don Pedro determined on a counter-revolution, and waited for his revenge. Nor had he long to wait. Half an hour later, as Don Carlos was passing out of the Palaco on his way homo to dross for dinner, six stout constables seized him by tho arms, handculTtid him on the spot, and dragged him off to tho Imperial prison. " At the suit of liis Excellency tho Chancellor," they said in explanation, and hurried him awa}' without another word. The Empress was furious. " How dare you ? " she shrieked to Don Peilro. " What right liave you to im- prison him — tho accredited representative of a Foreign Power?" " Excuse me," answered Don Pedro, in his smoothest tone. "Article 39 of the Penal Code enacts that the •270 STRANGE STORIES. person of the Chancellor is sacred, and that any individual who violently assaults him, with arms in hand, may bo immediately conuuitted to prison without trial, by her Majesty's command. Article 40 further provides that Foreign Ambassadors and other privileged persons are not exempt from the penalties of the previous Article." " But, sir," cried the angry little Empress (she was too excited now to remember that Don Pedro was a Princo), " I never gave any command to have Don Carlos im- prisoned. Release him at once, I toll you." " Your ]\In jesty forgets," replied the Chancellor quietly, *' that by Article 1 of the Constitution the Sovereign reigns but does not govern. The prerogative is solely exercised through the Chancellor. L'etnt, c'est moi ! " And ho struck an attitude. " So you refuse to let him out ! " said the Empress. " Mayn't I marry who I like? Mayn't I even settle who shall bo my own visitors ? " " Certainly not, your Majesty, if the interests of the State demand that it should bo otherwise." "Then Pll resign," shrieked out the poor little Empress, with a burst of tears. " I'll withdraw. I'll retire. I'll abdicate." " By all means," said the Chancellor coolly. " Wo can easily find another Sovereign quite as good." The shrewd little cx-actross looked hard into Don Pedro's face. She was an adept in the art of reading- emotions, and she saw at once what Don Pedro really wished. In a moment she had changed front, and stood up once more every inch an Empress. " No, I won't ! " she cried ; " I see you would be glad to get rid of me, and I shall stop hero to baffle and thwart you ; and I shall marry Carlos; and we shall fight it out to the bitter end." So saying, she darted out of the room, red-eyed but majestic, and banged the door after her with a slam as she went. Ilenccforward it was open war between them. Don Till: KMPUIu^S OF AXnOItllA. 1>7I 5'cdro (lid not daro to depose thr J'hnprcss, wIk* liad htill a considerable Lody of partisans aniong-st tlio Anddi'raii peoplo ; l)utlio resolutely refused to release tlio (Juatemuluii legate, and decided to accept hostilities -with tlio Central American liepublic, in order to divert tlio minds of tlio populace from internal politics. If ho returned homo from the campaign as a successful commander, lie did not douht that ho would find himself sufliciently powerful to throw off the mask, and to assume the Imperial purple in iiaiue as well as in reality. Accordingly, before the Guatemalan President could receive the news of his son's imprisonment, Don rodn) resolved to prepare for war. Ilis lirst care was to strengthon the naval resources of his country. The Opposition — that is to say, the Empress's party — objected that Andorra had no seaboard. But Don Pedro at once overruled that objection, by dint of several parallel instances. The Province of Upper Canada (now Ontario, added the careful historical student) had no seaboard, yet the Canadians placed numerous gunboats on tho great lakes during tho war of ISlli. (What research!) Again, the Nile, tho Indus, the Ganges, and many other great rivers had been the scene of important naval engagements as early as i;.c, 1082, which ho could show from tho evidence of papyri now preserved in the British Museum. (What universal knowledge !) The objection was frivolous. Ihit, answered the Opposition, Andorra has neither lakes nor navigable rivers. This, Don Pedro considered, was men; hair-split- ting. Perhaps they would tell him next it had no gutters or water-butts. Besides, wo must accommodate^ ourselves to the environment. (This, you see, conclusively proves that tho Chancellor had j'cad Mr. llerl)ert Spencer, and was thoroughly well up in tho Eiinutiai of tho Evolutionist Philosophy.) Had they never looked into their Thucy- dides ? Did they not remember the famous hollcos, or trench, whereby the Athenian triremes were lifted across tho 272 STUAXGK STOIIJES. IsthnniH of Corintli ? "Well, ho proposetl in like manner to order a larjco nniuLcr of ironclads I'roni an eminent (jllasjjrow firm, to pnll them overland np tlu^ ryrcnoes, and to plant them on the mountain tops around Amlorra us permanent hatterioH. That was what ho meant hy adaptation to the environment. So the order was j2;iven to the eminent Clasgow firm, who forthwith supplied the Empire with ten magnificent Clydo-huilt ironclads, having 14-inch plates, and patent douWe-security rivets : mounting twelve eighty-ton guns apiece, and fitted up with all the latest Woolwich improve- ments. These vessels were then hauled up the mountains, as Don Pedro proposed ; and there they stood, on the tallest neighbouring summits, in very little danger of going to the bottom, as the ironclads of other Powers are so apt to do. In return, Don Pedro tendered payment by means of five million pounds Inilated Currency, which ho assured tho eminent ship-builders were quite as good as cold, if not a irreat deal better. Tho firm was at first inclined to demur to this mode of payment ; but Dun Pedro immediately retorted that they did not seem to understand tho Currency Questici : and as this is an imputation which no gentleman could enduro for a moment, tho eminent ship-builders pocketed tho inflated paper at once, and pretended to think no more about it. Ilowever, there was one man among them who rather mistrusted inflation, because, you see, his education had been sadly neglected, especially as regards tho works of American Political Economists, in which Don Pedro was so deeply versed. Now, this ignorant and misguided man went straight off to the Stock Exchange with his share of the five millions, and endeavoured to negotiate a few hundred thousands for pocket-money. But it turned out that all the other Stock Exchange magnates were just as ill-informed as himself with respect to inflation and the Currency Question at large : and they persisted in THE EMVllESS OF ANDOUHA. 273 «lec'larlng that a picco of paper is really uono the better for having the wordt: " This is u Pound " writien across its face. iSo the eminent ship-buiMer returned homo dis- consolate, and next day instituted proceedings in Chancery against tho Holy liuman Empire at Andorra for the recovery of five million pounds sterling. What camo at last of this importan*^ suit you shall hear in the sequel. Meanwhile, poor Don Carlos remained incarcerated in the Imperial prison, and preparations for war went on with vigour and activity, both in Andorra and Guatemala. Naturally, the greatest excitement prevailed throughout Europe, and especially in tho sympatlictic liepublic of San Marino. Very diileront views of the situatix)n wero expressed by the various periodicals of that effusive State. Tho Matutinal Agitator declared that Andorra under tho Obrienelli dynasty had become a dangerously aggressivo Power, and that no peace could be expected in Europe until the Andorrans had been taught to recognize their true position in the scale of nations. Tho Vcsjicrtinal Sentimentalist, on the other hand, looked upon tho Guate- malans as wanton disturbers of tho public quietude, and considered Andorra in the favourable light o( an oppressed nationality. The Jlehdomadal T)anquilli::er, Avliieh treated both sides with contempt — avowing that it held tho Andorrans to be little better than lawless brigands, in tho last stage of bankruptcy; and the Guatemalans to bo mere drunken half-castes, incapable of attack or defence for want of men and money — this lukewarm and mean- spirited journal, I say, was treated with universal con- tumely as a wretched time-server, devoid of human sympathies and of proper cosmopolitan expansiveuess. At length, however, through the good offices of tho San Marino Government, both Powers were induced to lay aside the thought of needless bloodshed, and to discuss the terms of a mutual understanding at a Pan-Hispanic Congress to bo held in the neutral metropolis of Monaco. 271 STRANGE STORTES. Invitations to attcnrl tlio Conj^rcss were issued to all the SpanisU-spcakinji; nations on butli fsiilcs of the Atlantic. Tliero woro a low triflinj; refusals, it is true, as Spain, Mexico, and the South American States declined to send representatives to the proposed meeting : Lut still a goodly array of pl(;nipotentiaries met to discuss tho terms of peace. Envoys from Andorra, from Guatemala, and from tho other Central American It'puhlics — one of whom was of coursu a Chevalier of tho Exalted Order of the Holy Koso of Honduras, while another ropvescntod tho latest Tresidcnt of Nicaran;ua— sat down by tho side of a coloured niarf|uiH from San JJomingo, and a mulatto general who presented credentials from the licpuljlic of Cuba— since unhappily extinct. Thus it will he seen at a glance that the Congress wanted nothing which could add to its imposing character, either as an International Parliament or as an expression of military ran-II'spanic force. Europe felt instinctively that its deliberations were backed up by all tho vast terrestrial and naval armaments of its constituent Powers. But while Don Pedro was iiulling the M'ires of tho Monaco convention (by telegraph) from his head-quarters at Andorra — he could not himself have attended its meeting, lest his august Sovereign should embrace the opportunity of releasing tho captive Guatemalan and so stopping his hopes of future success — he had to contend at homo, not only with tho covert opposition of the bravo little Eaipress, but also with the open rebellion of a dis- affected minority. Tho five wards which constitute East Andorra had long been at secret variance with the nine wards of West Andorra ; and they seized upon this moment of foreign complications to organize a Home Rule party, and set on foot a movement of secession. After a few months of mere parliamentary opposition, they broke at last into overt acts of treason, seized on three of Don Pedro's ironclads, and proclaimed themselves a separate TJJE EMITiESS OF ASDOJiRA. 27.) government under the titlo of tho Confederato Wards uf Andorra. This last l)h»\v almost broke Don Pedro's heart. IIo had serious thoughts of giving up all for lost, and retiring into a. monastery for tho term of his natural life. As it Iiappcned, however, tho Chancellor was spared tho necessity for that final humiliation, and tho Pan-Ilispanic Congress was relie . ed of its arduous duties hy the sudden intervention of a hitherto passive Power. Great Britain Avoke at last to a sense of her own prestige and tho neces- sities of tho situation. The Court of Chancery decided that tho Inflated (,'urrency was not legal tender, and adjudicated the bankrupt state of Andorra to tlio prose- cuting creditors, the iirm of eminent ship-builders at Glasgow. A sheriff's oflicer, backed by a company of British Grenadiers, was desjiatched to tako possession of tho territory in tho name of tho assignees, and to repel any attempt at armed resistance. Politijal considerations had no little weight in tho decision which led to this imposing military demonstra- tion. It was felt that if we permitted Guatemala to keep up a squadron of ironclads in tho Caribbean, a perpetual menace would overshadow our tenure of Jamaica and Barbadoes : while if we suffered Andorra to overrun tho Peninsula, our position at Gibraltar would not be worth a fortnight's purchase. For these reasons tho above-men- tioned expeditionary force was detailed for the purpose of attaching tho insolent Empire, liberating the imprisoned Guatemalan, and entirely removing tho casus belli. It Avas hoped that such prompt and vigorous action Avould deter the Central American States from their extensive military preparations, which had already reached to several pounds of powder and over one hundred stand of Martini-Henry rifles. Our demonstration was quite as successful as the " little wars" of Great Britain have always been. Don Pedro ' 27G STRANGE STOJIIES. made some show of resistance with his eighty-ton gims ; but finding that the contractors had only supplied thorn with wooden bores, he deemed it prudent at length to beat a precipitate retreat. As to the poor little Empress, she had long learned to regard herself as a cypher in the realm over which she reifcncd but did not crovcrn ; and she was therefore perfectly read}'' to abdicate the throne, and resign the crown jewels to the sheriff's officer. She did so with the less regret, because the crown was only aluminium, and the jewels only paste — being, in fact, the identical articles which she had worn in her theatrical character as the Grand-Duchess of Gerolstein. The quondam republic was far from rich, and it had been glad to purchase these convenient regalia from the property- man at the theatre on the eventful morning of the Imperial Coronation. Don Carlos was immediately liberated by the victorious troops, and rushed at once into the arms of his inamorata. The Bishop of Urgel married them as private persons on the very same afternoon. The ex-Empress returned to the stage, and made her first reappearance in London, where the history of her misfortunes, and the sympathy which the British nation always extends to the conquered, rapidly secured her an unbounded popularity. Don Carlos practised with success on the violin, and joined the orchestra at the same house where his happy little wife appeared as prima donna. Senor ]Moutillado the elder at first announced his intention of cutting off his son with a shilling ; but being shortly after expelled from the Presi- dency of the Guatemalan Kepublic by one of the triennial revolutions which periodically diversify life in that volcanic state, he changed his mind, took the mail steamer to Southampton, and obtained through his son's influence a remunerative post as pantaloon at a neighbour- ing theatre. The eminent ship-builders took possession of East and TUE EMPRESS OF ANDOIiRA. 277 West Andorra, (pioUecl the insurrectionary movomont of the Confederato Wards, and brought back the ten iron- clads, together with the crown jewels and other public ijffects. On the whole, they rather gained than lost by the national bankruptcy, as they let out the conquered territory to the Andorran people at a neat little ground- rent of some £20,000 per annum. Don Pedro fled across the border to Touhiuso, where bo obtained congenial employment as clerk to an avoue. He was also promptly elected secretary to the local Academy of Science and Art, a post for which his varied attain- ments fit him in the highest degree. lie has given up all hopes of the resuscitation of the Holy Roman Empire, and is now engaged to a business-like young woman at the Cafe do I'Univers, who will effectually cure him of all lingering love for transcendental politics. Fi. ally, if any hypercritical person ventures to assert that this history is based upon a total misconception of the Holy Ivoman Empire question — that I am completely mistaken about Francis II., utterly wrong about Otto the Oreat, and hopelessly fogged about Henry tlie Fowler — I can only answer, that I take these statements as I find them in the note-books of Don Tedro, and the printed debates of the Andorran Folk Mote. Like a veracious historian, I cannot go beyond my authorities. But I think you will agree with me, my courteous reader, that the dogmatic omniscience of these historical critics is really beginning to surpass human endurance. THE SENIOR PROCTOR'S WOOIXG : A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS. I. I WAS positively blinded. I could hardly read the note, a neatly written little square sheet of paper ; and the words Keemcd to swim before my eyes. It was in the very thick of summer term, and I, Cyril Payne, MA., Senior Proctor of the University of Oxford, was calmly asked to under- take the sole charge for a week of a wild American girl, travelling alone, and probably expecting me to run about with her just as foolishly as I had done at Nice. There it lay before me, that awful note, in its overwhelming conciseness, without hope of respite or interference. It was simply crushing. " My dear Mr. Payne, "I am coming to Oxford, as you advised me. I shall arrive to-morrow by the 10.15 a.m. train, and mean to stop at the Randolph. I liox^e you will kindly show mo all the lions. *' Yours very sincerely, " Ida Van EiiNssELAER." It was dated Tuesday, and this was Wednesday morn- ing. I hadn't opened my letters before seeing last night's charges at nine o'clock ; and it was now just ten. In a TUE SENIOR PROCTOR'S WOOING. 270 moment the full terror of the situation flahi ed upon me. She had started ; she was already almost here ; there was no possibility of telegraphing to stop her ; before I could da anything, she .would have arrived, have taken rooms at the Eandolph, and have come round in her queer American manner to call upon me. There was not a moment to bo lost. I must rush down to the station and meet her — in full academicals, velvet sleeves and all, for a Proctor must never be seen in the morning in mufti. If there had been half an hour more, I could have driven .ound by the Parks and called for my sister Annie, who was married to the Rev. Theophilus Sheepshanks, Professor of Cojupara- tive Osteology, and who miglit have helped mo out of tho scrape. But as things stood, I was comi)elled to burst down the High just as I was, hail a hansom opposite Queen's, and drive furiously to the station in bare time to meet the 10.15 train. At all hazards, Ida Van Ivensselaer must not go to the Pandolph, and must bo carried oif to Annie's, whether she would or not. On tho way down 1 had time to arrange my plan of action ; and before I reached the station, I thought I saw my way dimly out of the awful scrape which this mad Yankee girl had so inconsiderately got mo into. I had met Ida Van Rensselaer the winter before at Nice. We stopped together at a pension on the Promenade des Anglais; and as I was away from Oxford — for even a Proctor must unbend sometimes — and as she was a pleasant, lively young person with remarkably fine eyes, travelling by herself, I had taken the trouble to instruct her in European scenery and European art. She had a fancy for being original, so I took her to see Eza, and Roccabruna, and St. Pons, and all the other queer pictur- esque little places in the Nice district which no American had ever dreamt of going to see before : and when Ida went on to Florence, I happened — quite accidentally, of course — to turn up at the very same pension three days 2S0 STRANGE STORIES. later, where I gave her further lessons in the art of admiring the early niediaival masters and the other treasures of Giotto's city. I was a bit of a collector myself, and in ray rooms at Magdalen I flatter myself that I have got tho only one genuine Botticelli in a private collection in England. In spite of her untamed American savagery, Ida had a certain taste for these things, and evidently my lessons gave her the first glimpse she had ever had of that real interior Europe whoso culture she had nut previously suspected. It is pleasant to teach a pretty pupil, and in the impulse of a weak moment — it was in a gondola at Venice — I even told her that she should not leavcfor America without having seen Oxford. Of course I faiicied that «lio would bring a chaperon. Now she had taken mo at my word, but she had como alone. I had brought it all upon myself, undoubtedly ; though how the dickens I was ever to get out of it I could not imagine. As I reached the station, the 10.15 was just coming in. I cast a wild glance right and left, and saw at least a dozen undergraduates, without cap or gown, loitering on the platform in obvious disregard of university law. But I felt far too guilty to proctorizo them, and I was terribly conscious that all their eyes were fixed upon me, as I moved up and down the carriages looking for my American friend. She caught my eye in a moment, peering out of a second-class window — she had told me that she was not well oft' — and I tliought I should have sunk in the ground when she jumped lightly out, seized my hand warmly, and cried out quite audibly, in her pretty faintly American voice, " My dear Mr. Payne, I am so glad you've come to meet me. Will you see after my baggage — no, luggage 3'ou call it in England, don't you ? — and get it sent up to the Ilandolph, please, at once ? " AVas over Proctor so tried on this earth? But I made an effort to smile it off. " My sister is so sorry she TJJE SENIOR PliOCTOR'S WOOING. 2i>l could not como to meet you, Miss Van Eensselaor," I said in my loudest voice, for I saw all those twelve sinister undergraduates watching afar oiT with eager curiosity ; " but she has sent me down to carry you oft" in her stead, and she bogs you won't think of going to the Kiindolph, but will come and make her house your homo as long as you stay in Oxford." I flattered myself that the twelve odious young men, who were now forming a sort of irregular circle around us, would bo completely crnslied by that masterly stroke : though what on earth Annie would say at being saddled witli this Yankee girl for a week I hardly dared to fancy. For Annie was a Professor's wife : and the dignitj' of a Professor's wife is almost as serious a matter as that of a Senior Proctor himself. Imagine my horror, then, wlien Ida answered, with her frank smile and sunny voice, " Your hister ! I didn't know you had a sister. And anyhow, I haven't come to see your sister, but yourself. And I'd bettor go to the Ran- dolph straight, I'm sure, because I shall feel more at homo there. You can come round and see mo whenever you like, there ; and I mean you to show me all Oxford, now I've come here, that's certain." I glanced furtively at the open-eared undergraduates, and felt that the game was really up. I could never face them again. I must resign everything, take orders, and lly to a country rectory. At least, I thought so on the spur of the moment. But something must clearly bo done. I couldn't stand and argue out the case with Ida before those twelve young fiends, now reinforced by a group of porters ; and I determined to act strategically — that is to say, tell a white lie. " You can go to the Kandolph, of course, if you wish, Miss Van Rensselaer," I said ; " will you come and show me which is your luggage ? Here, you, sir," to one of the porters, — a little angrily, I fear, — " come and get this lady's boxes, will you ? " 282 STEANGE STOIIIES. In a minute T had secured the boxes-, and wen' out fur a cab. There was nothing left but a single banson.. De- moralized as I was, I took it, and put Ida inside. " Drive to Lechlado Villa, the Parks," I whispered to the cabby — that was Annie's address— and I jumped in beside my torturer. As we drove up by the Corn-market, I could see the porters and scouts of Balliol and John's all looking eagerly out at the unwonted sight of a Senior Proctor in full academicals, driving through the streets of Oxford in a hansom cab, with a lady by his side. xVs for Ida, she remained happily unconscious, though I blamed her none the less for it. In her native wilds I knew that such vagaries were permitted by the rules of society ; but she ought surely to have known that in Europe they were not admissible. " Now, Miss Van Eensselaer," I said as wo turned the corner of Carfax, " I am taking you to my sister's. Excuso my frankness if I tell you that, according to English, and especially to Oxford etiquette, it would never do for you to go to an hotel. People's sense of decorum would bo scandalized if they learnt that a lady had come alone to risit the Senior Proctor, and was stopping at the llandolph. Don't you sec yourself how very odd it looks ? " " Well, no," t-aid Ida promptly ; " I think you are a dreadfully suspicious people : you seem always to credit everybody with the worst motives. In America, we think people mean no harm, and don't look after them so sharply as you do. But I really can't go to your sister's. I don't know her, and I haven't been invited. Does she know I'm coming ? " " Well, I can't say she does," I answered hesitatingly. " You see, your letter only reached me half an hour ago, and I had no time to see her before I went to meet you." " Then I certainly won't go, Mr. Payne, that's certain." " But my dear Miss Van Rensselaer " " Not the slightest use, I assure you. I canH go to a TUE iiENIOR rnOCTOIi'S WOOING. 283 house wliere thoy don't even know I'm coming. Driver, will you go to the Randolph Hotel, please ? " 1 Bank hack paralyzed and unmanned. This girl was one too many for me. " Miss A^'an ]\*enssclaer," I cried, in a last despairing fit, "do j'ou know that as Senior Proctor of the University I have the power to order you away from Oxford ; and that if I told them at the Randolph not to take you in, they wouldn't dare to do it ? " " Well really, Mr. Payne, I dare say you have some extraordinary meditwval customs hero, but you can hardly mean to send mo away again by main force. I shall go to the liandolph." And she went. I had to draw up solemnly at the door, to accompany her to the office, and to see her safely provided with a couple of rooms before I could get away hastily to the Ancient House of Convocation, where public business was being delayed by my absence. As I hurried through the Schools Quadrangle, I felt like a convicted malefactor going to face his judges, and self -condemned by his very face. That afternoon, as soon as I had gulped down a choking lunch, I bolted down to the Parks and saw Annie. At iirst I thought it was a hopeless task to convince her that Ida Van Rensselaer's conduct was, from an American point of view, nothing extraordinary. She persisted in declaring that such goings-on were not respectable, and that I was bound, as an officer of tho University, to remove the young woman at once from tho eight-mile radius over which my jurisdiction extended. I pleaded in vain that ladies in America always travelled alone, and that nobody thought anything of it. Annie pertinently remarked that that would be excellent logic in New York, but that it was quite un-Aristotolian in Oxford. *' When your American friends come to Rome," she said coldly — as though I were in the habit of importing Yankee girls wholesale—-" they must do as Rome does." But when I •2S4 STRANGE STORIES. at last pointed out tliat Ida, as an American citizen, could appeal to her minister if I attempted to turn her out, and that wo might ilnd ourselves the centre of an international quarrel — possibly even a casus hclli — she finally yielded M'ith a struggle. *' For the sake of respectability," she said solenmly, " I'll go and call on this girl with you; but j'emember, Cyril, I shall never undertake to help you out of such a disgraceful scrape a second time." I sneaked out into t]ie garden to wait for her, and felt that tlio burden of a rr>>ctorship was really more than I could endure. We called duly upon Ida, that very hour, and Ida certainly behaved herself remarkably well. She was so charmingly frank and pretty, she apologized so simply to Annie for her ignorance of English etiquette, and she was so obviously guileless and innocent-hearted in all her talk, that even Annie herself — who is, I must confess, a typical don's wife — was gradually mollified. To my great surprise, Annie even asked lier to dinner en famille the .same evening, and suggested that I should make an arrangement with the Junior Proctor to take my work, and join the party. I consented, not without serious mis- givings ; but I felt that if Ida was really going to stop a week, it would be well to put the best face upon it, and to show her up in company with Annie as often as possible. That might just conceivably take the edge off the keen blade of University scandal. To cut a long story short, Ida did stop her week, and I got through it very creditably after all. Annie behaved like a brick, as soon as the first chill was over ; for though she is married to a professor of dry bones (Comparative Osteology sounds very well, but means no more than that, when you come to think of it), she is a woman at heart in spite of it all. Ida had the most winning, charming, confiding manner; and she was so pleased with Oxford, with the colleges, the libraries, the gardens, the river, the boats, the mediaeval air, the whole place, that she quite TUB SENIOR rnOCTOKS WOOISG. 28:» gained Annie over to Ler side. Nay, my sister even discovered incidentally that Ida had a little fortune of her own, amounting to somo £;}0() a year, which, though it doesn't count for much in America, would ho a neat littlo sum to a man like myself, in England ; and she shrewdly ohscrved, in her senssiblo husiness-liko manner, that it would quite make I'p for the possiblo loss of my Magdalen fcdlowship. I am not exactly what you call a marrying man — at least, I know I had never got married l)efore; bnt as the week wore on, and I continued boating, flirting, and acting showman to Ida, Annie of course always assisting for propriety's sake, I began to feci that the Proctor was being conquered by the man. J fell most seriously and undoubtedly in love. Ida ad- mired my rooms, was charmed with the pretty view from my windoAvs over Magdalen Bridge and the beautiful gardens, and criticized my r)utticelli with real sympathy. I was interested in her ; she was so fresh, so real, and so genuinely delighted with the now world Avhich opened before her. It was almost her first glimpse of the truo interior Europe, and she was fascinated with it, as all better American minds invariably are when they feel the charm of its contrast with their own hurrying, bustling, mushroom world. The week passed easily atid pleasantly enough ; and when it was drawing to an end, I had half made up my mind to propose to Ida Van IJensselaer. The day before she was to leave she told us she would not go out in tho afternoon ; so I determined to stroll down the river to Iffley by myself in a " tub dingey" — a small boat with room in it for two, if occasion demands. AVhen I reached the Iffiey Lock, imagine my horror at seeing Ida in the middle of the stream, quietly engaged in paddling herself down the river in a canoe. I ran my dingey close beside her, drove her remorselessly against the bank, and handed her out on to tho meadow, before she could imagine what I was driving at. liso stuangij sroniics. "Now, Miss Van lioiisselacr," T said stonily, "this will never do. i>y herculean eflorts Annio and I have got over this week -without serious scandal ; and at tbo last moment you endeavour to wreck our plans hy canoeing down tho open river by yourself heforo the eyes of tho whole University. Everybody will talk about the Stnior I'roctor's visitor having been seen indecorously paddling about in broad daylight in a boat of her own." " I didn't know there was any harm in it," said Ida penitently; for she was beginning to understand the real seriousness of University etiquette. " Well," I answered, " it can't bo helped now. You must get into my boat at once — I'll send one of Salter's men down to fetch your canoe — and wo must row straight back to Oxford immediately." She obeyed mo mechanically, and I began to pull away for very life. "There's nothing for it now," I said pensively, "except to propose to you. 1 half meant to do it before, and now I've (juito made up my mind. Will you have me ? " Ida looked at mo without surprise, but with a little pleasure in her face. " What nonsense! " she said quietly. "I knew you were going to propose to me this after- noon, and so I came out alone to keep out of your way. You haven't had time to make up your mind propeily yet." As I looked at her beautiful calm face and lovely eyes I forgot everything. In a moment, I was over head and ears in love again, and conscious of nothing else. " Ida," I cried, looking at her steadily, " Ida ! " " Now, please stop," said Ida, before I could get any further. " I know exactly what you're going to say. You're going to say, ' Ida, I love you.' Don't desecrate the verb to love by draggling it more than it has already been draggled through all the grammars of every European lan- guage. I've conjugated to love, myself, in English, French, THE SENIOR rnOCrOirS M'OOISG. 287 fiernifiTi, am! Italian; and you've conjup;at(Hl it in Latin and Greek, and for auj^ht I know in Anglo-Saxon and Ooptic and Assyrian as well; so now lot's have done with it for ever, and conjugate some otlier verb more worthy the attention of two rational and original human beings. (Jan't you strike out a lino for yourself y" "You're of oratory peculiar to American gentlemen — and then I turned to Ida. She was looking as pretty, as piquante, and as fresh as ever ; but what her dress could mean was 41 complete puzzle to me. /Vs she stood, diamonds and all, a jeweller's assistant couldn't have valued her at a penny less than six hundred pounds. In England such a display in morning dress would luive boon out of taste ; but in Saratoga it seemed to be the height of the fashion. We walked along towards the Grand Union Hotel, where Ida and her cousin Avere staying, and my astonish- ment grew upon mo at every step. However, wo had so much to say to ono another about everything in general, and Ida was so unaffectedly pleased at my keeping my engagement, made half in joke, that I found no time to unravel the mystery. "When we reached the srreat doorwav, Ida took leave of me for the time, but 294 STRANGL STORIES. luado mo promise to call for lier ag'uiii early the next moriiiijg. " Unhappily," slio said, " I liavo to p;o this afternoon to a most tedious party — a set of r»osttJH people ; yon know the style : the best Euroj)ean culture, bottled and corked as imported, and let out again by driblets -svitli about as mucli spontanecmsness as cliaiii- pagno the second day. But I must fulfil my social duties here ; no canoeing on the Isis at Saratoga. However, wo must see a great deal of you now that yon've come ; so I expect you to call, and drive me down to the lake at ten o'clock to-morrow." " Is that proceeding within the expansive limits of American proprieties ? " I asked dubiousl}-. "Sir," said Mr. Hitchcock, answering for her, "this is a land of freedom, and every lady can go where she chooses, unmolested by those frivolous bonds of C(jn- vcntionality which bind the feet of your European women as closely as the cramped shoes of the Chinese bind the feet of the celestial females." Ida smiled at me witli a peculiar smile, waved her hand graciously, and ran lightly up the stairs. I was left on the piazza with Mr. Jefferson Hitchcock. His con- versation scarcely struck mo as in itself enticing, but I was anxious to find out the meaning of Ida's sudden accession to wealth, and so I determined to make the best of liis companionship for half an hour. As a sure high road to the American bosom and safe recommendation to the American confidence, I ordered a couple of delectable summer beverages (Mr. Hitchcock advised an " eye- opener," which proved worthy of the commendation ho bestowed upon it) ; and we sat down on the piazza in two convenient rocking-chairs, under the shade of the elms, smoking our havanas and sipping our iced drink. After a little preliminary talk, I struck out upon the subject of Ida. "When I met Miss Van Eensselaer at Nice," I said, THE SENIOR mOCTOR'S WOOING. 29a *' slio "svas stopping at a very quiet little iiomlon. It is quite a (lifTerent thing living in a palace like this." " We arc a republican nation, sir," answered Mr. Hitchcock, "and we expect to be all treated on the equal level of a sovereign people. The splendour that you in J^uropo restrict to princes, we in our country lavish upon the humblest American citizen. Miss Van Rensselaer's wealth, however, entitles her to mix in the highest circles of even your most polished society." " Indeed ? " I said ; "I had no idea that she was wealthy." " No, sir, probably not. Miss Van Rensselaer is a woman of that striking originality only to be met with in our emancipated country. She has shaken off the trammels of female servitude, and prefers to travel in all the sim- plicity of a humble income. She went to Europe, if I may so speak, incognita, and desired to hide her opulence from the prying gaze of your aristocraey. She did not wish your penniless peers to buzz about her fortune. But she is in reality one of our richest heiresses. The man who secures that Avoman as a property, sir, will find him- self in possession of an income worth as much as one liundrcd thousand dollars." Twenty thousand sterling a year ! The idea took my breath away, and reduced me once more to a state of helpless incapacity. I couldn't talk much more small-talk to ]\Ir. Hitchcock, so I managed to make some small excuse and returned listlessly to Congress Hall. There, over a luncheon of Saddle-Rock oysters (you see I never allow my feelings to interfere with my appetite), I decided that I must give up all idea of Ida Van Rensselaer. I have no abstract objection to an income of £20,000 a year ; but I could not consent to take it from any woman or to endure the chance of her supposing that I had been fortune-hunting. It may be and doubtless is a plebeian feeling, which, as Mr. Hitchcock justly hinted, is never shared by the younger sons of our old nobility; but I 296 STRANGE STORIES. hate the notion of living off somobody else's money, espe- cially if that somebody were my own wife. So I camo to the reluctant conclusion that I must give up the idea for ever ; and as it would not ho iair to stop any longer at Saratoga under the circumstances, I made up my mind t»» start for Niagara on the next day but one, after fulfilling my driving engagement with Ida the following morning. Punctually at ten o'clock the next day I found myself in a handsome carriage waiting at the doors of the Grand Union. Ida came down to meet me splendidly dresseil, and looked like a queen as she sat by my side. " We will drive to the lake," she isaid, as she took her seat, " and you will take me for a row as you did on the Isis at Oxford." So we whirled along comfortably enough over the six miles of splendid avenue leading to the lake ; and then we took our places in one of the canopied bouts which wait for hire at the little quaj^ I rowed out into the middle of the lake, admiring the pretty wooded banks and sandstone clifis, talking of Saratoga and American society, but keeping to my de- termination in steering clear of all allusions to my Oxford proposal. Ida was as charming as ever — more provokingly charming, indeed, than even of old, now that I had decided she could not be mine. But 1 stood by my reso- lution like a man. Clearly Ida was surprivsed at my reticence ; and when I told her that my time in America being limited, I must start almost at once for Niagara, slie was obviously astonished. " It is possible to be even too original," she observed shortly. I turned the boat and rowed back toward the shore. As I had nearly reached the bank, Ida jumped up from her seat, and asked me suddenly to let her pull for a dozen strokes. I changed places and gave her the oars. To my sui*prise, she headed the boat around, and pulled once more for the middle of the lake. When we had reached a point at some distance from the shore, she dropped the THE SENIOR PROCTORS WOOISG. 297 oars on tho thole-pins (they use no rowlocks on American lake or river craft), and looked for a moment full in my face. Then she taid abruptly : — "If you are really going to leave for Niagara to- morrow, Mr. l*uyno, hadn't wo better finish this bit of business out of hand ? " *' I was not aware," I answered, " that wo had any business transactions to settle." " Why," she said, " I mean this matter of proposing." I gazed back at her as straight as I dared. " Ida," \ said, with an attempt at firmness, " I don't mean to propose to you again at all. At least, I didn't mean to when I started this morning. I think I thuuglit I had decided not." " Then why did you come to Saratoga ? " she asked nL\G. 'ittO etiiud mo and would Iwlp mo forward instead of lottinjjj me sink down to the potty interests of this American desert. You liked mo at Nice, you did more than like me at Oxford; Lut I wouldn't take you then, thoujj;li [ longed to say yes, because I wasn't (juito sure whether you really meant it. I knew you liked mo for myself, not my money, but I left you to come to Saratoga for two tliinnjs. I wanted to make sure you were in earnest, not to take you at a moment of weakness. I said, ' If he really cares for me, if he thinks I might become worthy of him, ho will come and look for me ; if not, I must lot the dream go.' And then I wanted to know what eifect my fortune would have upon you. Now you know my whole reasons. Why should my money stand in our way ? AVhy should wo both make ourselves Tinhappy on account of it? You would have married me if I was poor : what good reason have you for rejecting me only because I am rich ? AN'liat- evcr my money may do for you (and you havo enough of your own), it will be nothing to what you can do for me. Will you tell me to go and make myself an animated peg for hanging jewellery upon, with such a conscious au- tomaton as Jefferson Hitchcock to keep me company through life ? " As she finished, flushed, proud, ashamctl, but every inch a woman, I caught her hand in mine. The utter mean- ness and selfishness of my life burst upon me like a thun- derbolt. " Oh, Ida," I cried, " how terribly you make me feel my own pettiness and egotism. You are cutting mo to the heart like a knife. I cannot marry you ; I dare not marry you ; I must not marry you. I am not worthy of such a wife as you. IIow had I ever the audacity to ask you ? My life has been too narrow and egoistic and self-indulgent to deserve such confidence as yours. I am not good enough for you. I really dare not accept it." " No," she said, a little more calmly, " I hope we are just good enough for one another, and that is why we ought to 800 STRANGE STORIES. marry. And as for tli(3 Inmdrcd thousand dollars, perhaps wo miglit manage to be happy in spito of thoin." Wo had drifted into a littlo hay, under kIk Iter of a high rocky point. I felt a sudden acct.'HS of insane boldnosH, and taking botli Ida's hands in mi no, I ventured to kiss her open forehead. She took the kiss quietly, Ijut witli a certain queenly sense of lioniage due. " And now,'' she said, shaking off my hands and smiling arcldy, " let uk row back toward Saratoga, foi- you know you have to pack up fur Niagara." " No," I answered, " I may as w(dl put off my visit to the Falls till you can accompany me." " Very M'cU," said Ida quietly, " and then wo shall go back to England and live near Oxford. I don't want you to give up the dear old University. I want you to teach me the way you look at things, and show mo how to look at them myself. I'm not going to learn any Latin or Greek or stupid nonsense of that sort ; and I'm not going to join the Women's Suffrage Association ; but I like your English culture, and 1 should love to live in its midst." " So you shall, Ida," I answered ; and you shall teach me, too, how to bo a little less narrow and self-centred than we Oxford bachelors are apt to become in our foolish isolation." So we expect to spend our honeymoon at Niagara. THE CHILD OF THE PHALANSTERY. *' Poor little ihlurf" said mi/ »h'onfj-inindv(l friend compamou- afcli/. " Just look at her ! Cluhfootcd. What a miscrji to her- self and others ! In a iccll-organized state of society^ you know, such poor iccc cripples as that mould be (jnietly put out of their misery while they were still babies." " Let mo iliinh" said I, ♦' horn that would work out in actual practice. Tm not so sure, after all, that we should be allogether the better or the happier for it." I. They sat together in a corner of the beautiful phalanstery garden, Olive and Clarence, on the marble seat that over- hung the nio.ssy dell where the streamlet danced and bickered among its pebbly stickles ; they sat there, hand in hand, in lovers' guise, and felt their two bosoms beating and thrilling in some strange, sweet fashion, just like two foolish unregcnerato young people of the old antisocial prephalansteric days. Perhaps it was the leaven of their unenlightened ancestors still leavening by heredity the whole lump ; perhaps it was the inspiration of the calm soft August evening and the delicate afterglow of the setting sun ; perhaps it was the deep heart of man and woman vibrating still as of yore in human sympathy, and stirred to its innermost recesses by the unutterable breath 802 STUAXGE STOIITES. of liuinan emotion. lint at .'iny rate thcro tlicy sat, thu lu'aiitiful Htroiig man in liis sliapely chiton, and tho dainty fair girl in licr lon<:j wiiitu roLo Avitli tho dark green em- iDroidered honlor, h)()king far into tho fatiionileas deptlis of one another's eyes, in tiilcnco Bweeter and more eloquent tlian many words. It was Olive's tenth-day holiday from lier sliaro in the maidens' lionsehold duty of tho community; and Clarence, by arrangement with his friend (lermain, liad made exchange from his own decade (which fell on I'lato) to tliis quiet ^lilton evening, that ho might wander through tlie park and gardens with his chosen lovo, and Kpeak his full mind to her now without reserve. " If (jnly the phalanstery will give its consent, Clarence," Olive said at last with a littlo sigl\, releasing her hand from his, and gathering up tho folds of her stole from the marble flooring of tho seat; " if only tho jjlialanstery will give its consent I but 1 have my doubts about it. Is it ([uito right? llavo wo chosen quite wisely? AVill tho hierareh and the elder brotliers think 1 am strong enough and fit enough for tho duties of the task? It is no light matter, we know, to enter into bonds with one another for tho responsibilities of fatherhood and motherhood, I some- times feel — forgive me, (Clarence — but I sometimes feel as if I were allowing my own heart and ray own wishes to guide me too exclusively in this solemn fear not ; while tho heart of man remains, there will bo tragedy enough on earth and to spare for a hundred poets to take for their saddest epics." Olive looked up at Rhoda wistfully. " Sister Rhoda," she said in a timid tone, " it may bo very wicked — I feel sure it is — but do you know, I've read somewhere in old stories of tho unenlightened days that a mother always loved the most afflicted of her children the best. And I can understand it now, sister Ehoda ; I can feel it here," and she put her hand upon her poor still heart. " If only I could keep this one dear crippled baby, I could give up all the world beside — except you, Clarence." " Oh, hush, darling ! " Khoda cried in an awed voicCf stooping down half alarmed to kiss her pale forehead. "You mustn't talk like that, Olive dearest. It's wicked; THE CHILD OF THE VIIALASHTERY. :^15 its iiiulntiful. I know liow hard it is not to rcpino and to rebel; but you mustn't, Olive, you mustn't. AVe must each strive to bear our own burdens (with the help of the community), and not to put any of them oil' upon a poor, helpless, crippled littlo baby." " But our luituies," Clarence said, wipinj; his eyes dreamily; " our natures are only half attuned as yet t(» the necessities of the higher social existence. Of course it's very wroni:^' and very sad, but we can't help feeling it, sister Khodu, though wo try our hardest, llemember, it's not so many generations since our fathers would have reared the child without a thouglit that they were doing anything wicked — nay, rather, would even have held (so powerful is custom) that it was positively wrong to save it by preventive means from a certain lite of predestined misery. Our conscience in this matter isn't yet fully formed. We feel that it's right, of course ; oh yes, we know the phalanstery has ordered everything for the best; but wo can't help grieving over it; the human heart within us is too unregonerato still to acquiesco without a struggle in the dictates of right and reason." Olive again said nothing, but fixed her eyes silently upon the grave, earnest portrait of the Founder over tho carved oak mantelpiece, and let the hot tears stream their own way over her cold, white, pallid, bloodless cheek without reproof for many minutes. Her heart was too full for either speech or comfort. 310 .^TliASaL' ,' fundamental l)rincii)les of pliahinstLM'ic soeiety in these matters. By tlio kindly rule of thu ])halansti'ry, every mother had comi)luto freedom from hoiiselinM duties fur two j'ears after tho birth of her ehild ; and (.'larence, thougli ho would not willingly have given up his own par- ticular work in the grounds and garden, spunt all tho time ho could spare from his short daily task (every one worlvL'd live hours every lawful day, and few worked longer, save on special emergencies) hy Olive's side. At last, tho eight decades passed slowly away, and the fatal day for the removal of little lio.sehud arrived. Olivo called her liosebud because, she said, she was a sweet bud that could never be opened into a full-bhjwn r(xse. All tho community felt the solemnity of the painful occasion ; and by common consent tho day (Darwin, December 20) was held as an intra-phalansteric fast by the whole body of brothers and sisters. On that terrible morning Olive rose carlv, and dressed herself carefully in a long white stole with a broad black border of Greek key pattern. l>ut she had not the heart to put any black upon dear little Rosebud ; and so she put on her fine flannel wrapper, and decorated it instead with the pretty coloured things that Veronica and I'liilomela had worked for her, to make her baby as beautiful as possible on this its last day in a world of happiness. Tho other girls helped her and tried to sustain her, crying all together at tho sad event. " She's a sweet little thing," they said to ono another as they held her up to see how she looked. " If only it could have been her reception to-day instead of her removal ! " But Olive moved through them all with stoical resignation — dry-eyed and parched in the throat, yet saying not a word save for 318 STRANGE STOniES. necessary instructions and directions to the nursing sisters. The iron of licr creed had entered into her very soul. After breakfast, brother Eustace and the hierarch caino sadly in their official robes into the lesser ii.-firmary. Olive was there already, pale and trembling, with little llosebud sleeping peacefully in the hollow of her lap. What a picture she looked, the wee dear thing, with the hothouse flowers from tlie conservatory that Clarence had brought to adorn her, fastened neatly on to her fine flannel robe ! The physiologist took out a little phial from his pocket, and began to open a sort of inhaler of white muslin. At the same moment, the grave, kind old hierarch stretched »jut his hands to take the sleeping baby from its mother's arms. Olive shrank back in terror, and clasped the child softly to her heart. " No, no, let mo hold her myself, dear hierarch," she said, without flinching. " Grant me this one last favour. Let me hold her myself." It was contrary to all fixed ruh^s ; but neither the hierarch nor any one else there present had the heart to refuse that beseeching voice on so supremo and spirit-rending an occasion. Brother Eustace poured the chloroform solemnly and (juiotly on to the muslin inhaler. " By resolution of the phalanstery," he said, in a voice husky with emotion, *' I release you, Eosebud, from a life for which you are naturally unfitted. In pity for your hard fate, we save you from the misfortune you have never known, and will never now experience." As he spoke, he held the inhaler to the baby's face, and watched its breathing grow fainter and fainter, till at last, after a few minutes, it faded gradually and entirely away. The little one had slept from life into death, painlessly and haj)pily, even as they looked. Clarence, tearful but silent, felt the baby's pulse for a moment, and then, with a burst of tears, shook his head Tiuj CHILD OF Tin: pualaxstery. :ii9 bitterly. " It is all over," he cried with a loiitl cry. " It is all over ; and we hope and trust it is better so." But Olive still said nothing. The physiologist turned to her witli an anxious gaze. Her cj'es were open, but they looked blank and staring into vacant space. lie took her hand, and it felt lirn]) and powerless. '* Great heaven," he criud, in cvidi-nt alarm, " what is this ? Olive, Olive, our dear Olive, why don't you speak ? " Clarence sprang up from the ground, where ho had knelt to try the dead baby's pulse, and took her unresist- ing wrist anxiously in his. " Oh, brotlier Eustace," he cried passionately, " help us, save us ; what's the matter with Olive? she's fainting, she's fainting! I can't feel her heart beat, no, not ever so little." ' Brother Eustace let the pale white hand drop listlessly from his grasp upon tlic pale white stole beneath, and answered slowly and distinctly : " She isn't fainting, Clarence ; not fainting, my dear brotlier. The shock and the fumes of chloroform together have been too much for the action of the heart. She's dead too, Clarence ; our dear, dear sister ; she's dead too." Clarence flung his arms wildly round Olive's neck, and listened eagerly with his oar against her bosom to hear her heart beat. But no sound came from the folds of the simple blaek-bordered stole; no sound from anywhere ."^ave the suppressed sobs of the frightened women who huddled closely together in the corner, and gazed horror- stricken upon the two warm fresh corpses. "She was a brave girl," brother Eustace said at last, wiping his eyes and composing her hands reverently. '• Olive was a brav(^ girl, and she died doing her duty, without one murmur against the sad necessity that fate had unhappily placed upon her. No sister on earth could wish to die more nobly than by thus sacrificing her own life and her own weak human affections on the altar 320 STRANGE STORIES. of liumainty for tlio sake of hor cliild and of the world at large." " .\nd yet, I sometimes almost fancy," the hicrarch nmrmurcd Avith a Anoleiit effort to control his emotions, " when I see a scene like this, that even the unenlightened ])racticcs of the old era may not have been quite so had as we usually think them, for all that. Surely an end such as Olive's is a sad and a terrible end to have forced upon us as the final outcome and natural close of all our modern phalansteric civilization." " The ways of the Cosmos are wonderful," said brother Eustace solemnly; "and we, who are no more than atoms and mites upon the surface of its meanest satellite, cannot hope so to order all things after our own fashion that all its minutest turns and chances may approve themselves to us as light in our own eyes." The sisters all made instinctively the reverential genu- flexion. " The Cosmos is infinite," they said together, in the fixed formula of their cherished religion. " The Cosmos is infinite, and man is but a parasite upon the face of the least among its satellite members. May we so act as to further all that is best within us, and to fulfil our own small place in the system of the Cosmos with all becoming revenmcc and humility ! In the name of universal Humanity. So be it." OUR SCIEXTIFIC OBSKRVATIONS ON A GHOST. " Then nothing would convince you of the existence of ghosts, Harry," I said, "except seeing one."' "Not even seeing one, my dear Jim," said llarrj'. "Nothing on earth would make nie Lelievo in tliem, unless I were turned into a ghost myself." So saying, Harry drained his glass of whisky toddy, shook out the last ashes from his pipe, and went off upstairs to bed. I. sat for a while over the remnants of my cigar, and ruminated upon the subject of our conver- sation. For my own part, I was as little inclined to believe in ghosts as anybody ; but Harry seemed to go one degree beyond me in scepticism. His argument amounted in brief to this, — that a ghost was by definition the spirit of a dead man in a visible form here on earth; but however strr.nge might be the apparition which a ghost-seer thought he had observed, there was no evidence possible or actual to connect such apparition with any dead person whatsoever. It might resemble the deceased in face and figure, but so, said Harry, does a portrait. It might resemble him in voice and manner, but so dues an actor or a mimic. It might resemble him in every possible particular, but even then we should only be justified in. saying that it formed a close counterpart of the person in (luestion, not that it was his ghost or spirit. In short, Y 322 STRANGE STOIilES. Harry maintained, with considerable sliow of reason, that nobody coiihl ever have any scientific ground for identifying any external object, whether shadowy or material, with a j)ast human existence of any sort. According to him, a man might conceivably see a phantom, but could not possibly know that he saw a ghost. Harry and I were two Oxford bachelors, studying at the time for our degree in Medicine, and with an ardent love for the scientific side of our future profession. Indeed, wc took a greater interest in comparative physio- logy and anatomy than in physic projjcr; and at this particular moment wo were stopping in a very comfort- able farm-house on the coast of Flintshire for our long vacation, with the special object of observing histologically a peculiar sea-sido organism, the Thingumbobbum What- umaycallianum, which is found so plentifully on the shores of North Wales, and which has been identified by Professor llaeckel with the larva of that famous marine ascidian from whom the Professor himself and the re- mainder of humanity generally are supposed to be undoubtedly descended. We had brought with us a full complement of lancets and scalpels, chemicals and test- tubes, galvanic batteries and thermo-electric piles ; and we were splendidly equipped for a thorough-going scientific campaign of the first water. The farm-house in which we lodged had formerly belonged to the county family of the Egertons ; and though an Elizabethan manor replaced the ancient defensive building which had been wisely dismantled by Henry VIII., the modern farm- house into which it had finally degenerated still bore the name of Egerton Castle. The whole house had a reputa- tion in the neighbourhood for being haunted by the ghost of one Algernon Egerton, Avho was beheaded under James II. for his participation, or rather his intention to participate, in Monmouth's rebellion. A wretched portrait of the hapless Protestant hero hung upon the wall OUR SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GUOST. 32:5 of our joint sitting-room, liaving been left behind when the family moved to their new seat in Cheshii-e, as being unworthy of a place in the present baronet's splendid apartments. It was a few remarks upon the subject of Algernon's ghost which had introduced the question of ghosts in general ; and after Harry had left the room, I sat for a while slowly finishing my cigar, and contem- plating the battered features of the deceased gentleman. As I did so, I was somewhat startled to hear a voice at my side observe in a bland and graceful tone, not uimiixed with aristocratic hauteur, " You have been speaking of me, I believe, — in fact, I have unavoidably overheard youi- conversation, — and I have decided to assume the visible form and make a few remarlcs upon what seems to me a very hasty decision on your friend's part." I turned round at once, and saw, in the easy-chair which Harry had just vacated, a shadowy shape, which grew clearer and clearer the longer I looked at it. It was that of a man of forty, fashionably dressed in the costume of the year 1G85 or thereabouts, and bearing a close resem- blance to the faded portait on the wall just opposite. But the striking point about the object was this, that it evidently did not consist of any ordinary material substance, as its outline seemed vague and wavy, like that of a photograph where the sitter has moved ; while all the objects behind it, such as the back of the chair and the clock in the corner, showed through the filmly head and body, in the very manner which painters have always adopted in representing a ghost. I saw at onco that whatever else the object before might be, it certainly formed a fine specimen of the orthodox and old-fashioned apparition. In dress, appearance, and every other par- ticular, it distinctly answered to what the unscientific mind would unhesitatingly have called the ghost of Algernon Egerton. Here was a piece of extraordinary luck ! In a house :>-2l STRANGE STORIES. with two trained observers, Kupplicd with every instrument t)t" modern experimental rescurcli, we had lighted upon an nndouLtod Hpecimcn of the common spectre, which had so lon,i^- eluded the scientific grasp. I was heside myself witli deliglit. "Keally, sir," I said, cheerfully, "it is most kind of you to pay us this visit, and I'm sure my friend will he only too happy to hear your remarks. Of course j'ou will permit me to call him?" The apparition ap})earod somewhat surprised at the philosophic manner in which I received his advances; for ghosts arc accustomed to find people faint away or scream with terror at their first appearance; but for my own part: I regarded him merely in the light of a very interesting phenomenon, which required immediate obser- vation by two independent witnesses. However, he smothered his chagrin — for I believe he was really dis- appointed at my cool deportment — and answered that he would bo very glad to see my friend if I wislied it, thougli he had specially intended this visit for myself alone. I ran upstairs hastily and found Harry in his dressing- gown, on the point of removing his nether garments, '•Harry," I cried breathlessly, "you must come down- stairs at once. Algernon l']gerton's ghost wants to speal< to you." Harry held up the candle and looked in my face with great deliberation. "Jim, my boy," he said quietly, "you've been having too much whisky." " Not a bit of it," I answered, angrily. " Come down- stairs and see. I swear to you joositively that a Thing, tlie very counterpart of Algernon Eger ton's picture, is sitting in your easy-chair downstairs, anxious to convert vou to a belief in ghosts." It took about three minutes to induce Harry to leave liis room ; but at last, merely to satisfy himself that I was demented, he gave way and accompanied mo into the sittiug-roora. I was half afraid that the spectre would Orn SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GHOST. r.-J.") have taken •mubraf^o at my loiioj delay, and gone ofl' in a liiifT and a blue liame ; but whvn wo roaclied the room, there he was , in propria persona, gazing at his own ])ortrait — or slionld I rather say his countiTpart? — on the wall, with the utmost composure. " Well, Harry," I said, " what do you call that ? " Harry put up his eyeglass, peered suspiciously at the phantom, and answered in a mollified tone, " It certainly is a most interesting phenomenon. It looks like a ease of lluorescenee ; but you say the object can talk?" " Decidedly," I answered, " it can talk as well as you or me. Allow me to introduce you to one another, gentle- men : — Mr. Henry Stevens, I\Ir. Algernon Egerton ; for though you didn't mention your name, Mr. Egerton, 1 presume from what you saitl that I am I'ight in my conjecture." "Quito right," replied the phantom, rising as it spoke, and making a low bow to Hariy from the waist upward. *' I suppose your friend is one of the Lincolnshire Steven ses, sir?" "Upon my soul," said Harry, "I haven't the faintest conception where my family came from. My grandfather, who made what little money we have got, was a cotton- spinner at liochdale, but he might have come from heaven knows where. I only know he was a very honest old gentleman, and he remembered me handsomely in his will." " Indeed, sir," said the apparition coldly. " My family were the Egertons of Egerton Castle, in the county of Flint, Armigeri ; whose ancesti)r, Iiadulphus de Egerton, is mentioned in Domesday as one of the esquires of Hugh Lupus, Earl Palatine of Chester. IJadulpluis de Egerton had a son " " Whose history," suid Harry, anxious to cut short these «renealosj;ical details, " I have read in the Annals of Elintshire, which lies in the next room, with the name 320 STRANGE STOIllES. you give as yours on the fly-leaf. But it seems, sir, yoit are anxious to converse with me on the subject of ghosts. As that question interests us all at present, much nioro than family descent, will you kindly begin by telling us whether you yourself lay claim to be a ghost? " " T^'ndoubtedly I do," replied the phantom. " The ghost of Algernon Egerton, formerly of Egerton Castle ? " 1 interposed. " Formerly and now," said the phantom, in correction. " I have long inhabited, and I still habitually inhabit, by night at least, the room in which wu are at present seated." " The deuce you do," said ITarry warmly. " This is a most illegal and unconstitutional proceeding. The house belongs to our landlord, Mr. Hay : and my friend hero and mj^self have hired it for the summer, sharing the expenses, and claiming the sole title to the use of the rooms." (ITarry omitted to mention that he took the best bedroom himself and put me off with a shabby little closet, while wo divided the rent on equal terms.) " True," said the spectre good-humouredly ; " but you can't eject a ghost, you know. You may get a writ of habeas corjms, but the English law doesn't supply you with a writ of Jiaheas nnlmam. The infamous Jeffreys left me that at least. I am sure the enlightened nineteentli century wouldn't seek to deprive me of it." " Well," said Harry, relenting, " provided yon don't interfere with the experiments, or make away with the? tea and sugar, I'm sure I have no objection. But if you are anxious to prove to us the existence of ghosts, perhaps you Avill kindly allow us to make a few simple observa- tions ? " " With all the pleasure in death," ansAvered the appari- tion courteously. " Such, in fact, is the very object for which I've assumed visibility." *' In that case, Harry," I said, " the correct thing will be OUR SCIESTIFIC OBSKRVATIOXS ON A GHOST. 027 to get out some paper, aiul draw up a runniiif^ report which wo may both attest afterwards, A few simple notes on the chemical and jihysical properties of a spectre will bo an interesting novelty for the lioyal Society, and they ought all to be jotted down in black and white at once." This course having been unanimously determined upon as strictly regular, I laid a largo folio of foolscap on tho writing-table, and tho apparition proceeded to put itself in an attitude for careful inspection. " Tiio first point to decide," said I, " is obviously tho physical properties of our visitor. Mr. Egerton, will you kindly allow us to feel your hand?" " You may try to feel it if you like," said tho phantom quietly, " but I doubt if you will succeed to any brilliant extent." As ho spoke, he held out his arm. Harry and I endeavoured successively to grasp it : our lingers slipped through the faintly luminous object as though it wore air or shadow. Tho phantom bowed forward his head ; wo attempted to touch it, but our hands onco more passed unopposed across tho wholo face and shoulders, without linding any trace whatsoever of mechanical resistance. "Experience tho first," said Harry; "the apparition has no tangible material substratum." I seized tho pen and jotted down the words as he spoke them. This was really turning out a very full-blown specimen of tho ordinary ghost ! " Tho next question to settle," I said, " is that of gravity. — Harry, givo me a hand out here with tho weighing-machine. — Mr. Egerton, will you bo good enough to step upon this board ? " Mlrahile dictu ! The board remained steady as ever. Not a tremor of tho steelyard betrayed tho weight of its shadowy occupant. " Experience the second," cried Harry, in his cool, scientific way : " the apparition has tho specific gravity of atmospheric air." I jotted down this note also, and quietly prepared for the next observation. 328 STRANGE STOEIL'S. " Wouldn't it bo well," I inquired of Harry, " to try tho weight in vacuo? It is possible that, while tlio spocific gravity in air is equal to tliat of tho atniospliere, tho specific gravity in vacuo may ho zero. Tho api)arition — pray excuse mo, Mr, Egerton, if tho terms in which I allude to you seem disrespectful, but to call you a ghost would be to prejudge tho point at issue — the apparition may have no proper weight of its own at all." " It would be very inconvenient, though," said Harry, *' to put tlie wliolo a[)pariti()n under a bell-glass : in fact, wo have none big enough. I)L'sides, suppose wo were to find that by exhausting the air we got rid of the object altogether, as is very possible, that would awkwardly interfere with the future prosecution of our researches into its nature; and properties." "Permit me to niako a suggestion," interposed, tho phantom, "if a person whom you choose to relegate to the neuter gender may 1)0 allowed to have a voice in so scien- tific a question. My friend, tho ingenious Mr. Boyle, has lately explained to me tho construction of his air-pump, which we saw at ono of the Friday evenings at tho Koyal Institution. It seems to me that your object would be attained if I were to put one hand only on tho scale under the bell-glass, and j^ermit the air to be exhausted." " Capital," said Harry : and we got the air-pump in readiness accordingly. The spectre then put his right hand into tho scale, and. wo plumped the bell-glass on top of it. Tho connecting portion of tlio arm shone through, the severing glass, exactly as though tho spectre consisted merely of an immaterial light. In a few minutes the air was exhausted, and the scales remained evenly balanced as before. " This experiment," said Harry judicially, " slightly modifies the opinion which we formed from tho preceding one. Tho specific gravity evidently amounts in itself to nothing, being as air in air, and as vacuum in vacuo. Jot down the result, Jim, will you ? " on: aClENTIFIG ODSniVATlOSS ON A GUOST. :i2t) I did so faithfully, and then tnrninf; to tlio spcctro I observed, " You mentioned a Mr. Boyle, .sir, just now. You allude, I 8np])o.so, to the father of eheini«try ? " " And uncle of the Earl of Oorlc," replied the appariiion, prouiptly filling' up the well-known (piotation. " Exaetlv «o. I knew Mr. l>oylo nli^c^-litly duiinve fall out among ourselves ! ' " ' What does that matter in tho end ? ' he answered. ' Let us first drive out the accursed Fcringhees, and then, if Allah prosper us, we ma}*^ divide the land as we like between the two creeds. We are all sons of the soil, Hindoo and Musalman alike, and wo can live together in peace. But these hateful Feringhees, they come across the sea, they overrun all India, they tax us all alike, they treat your Sindiah and Holkar a^ they treat our Nizam J?.1.V DAS OF CAWNPORE. 'MC> ami our king of Oiicio, tlioy take away om- slaves, tlioy tax our food, they pollute your Hacrcil rivens, tlioy (k-stroy your castes, and as for us, they take their women to picnic in our mosques, as I have seen myself at Agra. ►Shall wo not first drive them into the sea?' " * You say well,' I answered, ' and I shall ask more of this matter at Bithoor.' "That was the iirst that I heard of it all. Xoxt day, the village was all in commotion. It was said tliat the Nana had called on all good Hindoos to help liim to cleai' out the Feringhees. I left my hut and my children, and I came to IJithoor here. Then thoy gave mo a rifle, and told me 1 should march with them to Cawnporo to kill the Feringhees. There were not many of the dogs, and the gods were on our side ; and when we had killed them all we should have the whole of India for i\ni Hindoos, with no land-tax or salt-tax, and tliere should be no more cattle slaughtered nor no more interference with the pilgrims at Ilurdwar. It was a grand day that, and the Nana, dressed out in all the I'eshwa's jewels, looked like a very king. " Well, we went to Cawnporo and began to besiege the entrenchments which Wlieeler Sahib had thrown up round the cantonment. Wo had great guns and many men, both sepoys and volunteers. Inside, the Feringhees had only a few, and not much artillery. We all thought that the gods had given us the Feringhees to slay, and that there would be no more of them loft at all. " For twenty days we continued besieging, and the Feringhees got weaker and weaker. They had no food, and scarcely any water. At last Wheeler Sahib sent to tell the Nana that he would give himself up, if the Nana would spare their lives. The Nana was a merciful man, and he said, ' I might go on and take the entrench- ment, and kill you all if I wished ; but to save time, because I want to get away and join the others, I will let ?AG STEANGE STOIUES. yoii off.' So lie took all tlio money in the treasury, and the guns, and promised to provide boats to tako them all down to Allaliabad. "I was standing al)out near one of our guns that day, when Chunder Lai, a Brahman in the Nana's troops, came up to me and said, ' Well, Kam Das, what do you tliink of this ? ' " ' I think,' said I, ' that it is a sin and a shame, after wo have broken down the hospital, and starved out the Feringhecs, to lot them go down the river to Allahabad, to strengthen the garrison that pollutes that holy city. For I hear that they do all kinds of wrong there, and insult the Brahmans, and tlu batlicrs, and the sacred fig-tree. And if these men go and join them, the garrison will bo stronger, and they will be able to hold out longer against the people, which may the gods avert ! ' " ' So I think too. Earn Das, said he ; ' and for my part, I would try to prevent their going.' " A little later, we went down to the river, by the Nana's orders. There some men had ^ot boats tosrether, and were putting the Feringhees into them. It was getting dark, and we all went down to guard them. A few of them had got into the boats ; the rest were on the bank. I can see it all now : the white men with their proud looks abashed, going meekly into the boats, and the women stepping, all afraid and shrinking from the black faces — shrinking from us as if wo were unclean and they would lose casto by touching us. Though tliey were so frightened, they were proud still. Then three guns went oif somewhere in the camp. Chunder Lai was near me, and he said to me, ' That is the signal for ua to fire. The Nana ordered me to fire when I heard those guns.' I don't knew if it was true: perhaps the Nana ordered it, perhaps Chunder Lai told a lie : but I never could find out the truth about it, for they blew Chunder Lai from the guns at Cawnpore afterwards, and I have HAM DAS "''•' CAWNVORE. ?A1 never seen the Nana since to ask liim. At any rate, I levelled my musket and iired. I hit an officer Sahib, and wounded him, not mortally. In a moment there was a great report, and I looked round, and saw all our men firing. I don't know if they had tlie word of com- mand, but I think not. I think they all saw mo firo, and fired because I did, and because they thought it a shame to let the Feringhoes escape ; as though the head man of a village should entrap a tiger, a man-eater that had killed many cultivators in their dal-fielJs, and then should let it go. If a headman ordered the villagers to loose it from the trap, do you think they would obey him? No, and if he loosed it himself, they would take muskets and sticks and weapons of all kinds, and kill the man-eater at once. That is what we did with the Feringhces. " It was a terrible sight, and I did not like to see it. Some of them leapt into the water and were drowned. Others swam away madly, like wild fowl, and wc shot at them as they swam ; and then they dived, and when they came up again, we fired at them again, and the water was red with their blood. I hit one man on the shoulder, and broke his arm, but still he swam on with his other arm, till somebody put a bullet through his head, and he sank. I ran into the water, as did many others, and we followed them down until all the swimmers were picked off. Some of th(i boats crossed the river : but there was a regiment Avaiting on the Oudo shore — some said by accident, others that the Nana had posted it there — and the sepoys hacked them all to jjioees as tluy tried to escape. It was a dreadful sight, and I am an older man now, and do not like to think of It : but I w .is younger then, and our blood was hot with fighting, and we thought we were going to drive the Feringhecs out of the country, and that the gods would bo well pleased with our day's work. :n8 STIiAXGE STORIES. " Some boats got away a little way, but they were afterwards sent back. The women and children, some of them badly wounded, we took back into Cawnpore. We put them in the IJibi's house, near the Assembly Kooms. Then in a few days, the others who were sent back from Futteypore arrived, and the Nana said, ' What shall I do with them ? ' Everybody said, * Shoot them : ' so wo took out all the men the same day and shot them at once. The women and children the Nana spared, because he was a humane man ; and he sent them to the others in the Bibi's hoTise. There they were avcU treated ; and tliouf^h they had not punkahs, and tattis, and cow's flesh, as formerly, yet they got better rations than any of the Nana's own soldiers : for the Feringhees, like all you Europeans, Sahib, are very luxurious, and will not live oif lice or dal and a little ghee like other people. You have con(|uered every place in the world, from Ceylon to Cashmere, and so you have got luxurious, and live off wheaten bread, and cow's flesh, and wine, and many such ungodly things. But the rest of the world think it a great thing if they have ghee to their rice. " After a fortnight the Nana's troops were defeated at Futteypore, and it was said that the Feringheo ladies were sending letters to the army. Then the Nana was very angry. He said, ' I have spared these women's lives, and yet they are sending news to my enemies. 1 will tell you what I will do : I will put them all to death.' So he gave word to have them shot. I was "one of the guards at the Bibi's house, and I got orders to shoot them. Then we all tried to bring them out in front of the house ; but they would not come ; so we had to go in and put an end to them there with swords and bayonets. Poor things ! they shrieked piteously ; and I was sorry for them, because they were some of them young and pretty, and it is not the women's fault if the Feringhees come here, for the Feringhee ladies hate India, HAM DAt; OF CAWNVOUE. 3I[> and ^vill all go away af^ain acru.ss the water if they can g-et a chance. And then there were the children I One poor lady clung to my knees and begged hard for her danghter : hut I had to obey orders, so I cnt her down. It was very sad. But then, the Feringheo bidies are even prouder than the men, and they hate us Hindoos. Thoy would not care if they killed a thousand of us if their little fingers ached. Locdc how they make us salaam, and punish us for small faults, and compel us to work prnkahs, and to run on foot after their carriages, and insult our gods. Ah, they are a cruel, proud race. They are lower than the lowest Sudra, and yet they will treat a twice-born Brahman like a dos;. " We throw all the bodies into the well at Cawnporo where now they liaA'o put up an image of one of their gods — a cold, white god, with two wings — to avenge their deatli. Then there was great joy in Cawnpore. We had killed the last of the Feringhees, and India should be oui- own. Soon, we might make the Kan a into a real Peshwa, and turn against the JMusalmans. and put down all slaughtering (^f cattle altogether, as the Kani did at Jhansi. We should have no more land-tax to pay, for the Musalmans should pay all the taxes, as is just : but the Hindoos should have their land for nothing, and live upon chupattics and ghee and honey every day. Ah, that was the grandest day that was ever seen in Cawnpore ! "But that was not the end of it. In the mysterious providence of the all-wise gods it was otherwise ordained. A few days before all this, I was stamling about in the bazaar, when I met a jemadar. He said to me, ' So the Feringhees are marching f!om Allahabad ! ' " ' The Feringhees ! ' I said : ' why, no, wo have killed them all off out of India, thanks be to the gods. At: Delhi they are all killed, and at Meerut, and at Cawnpore here, and I believe everywhere but at Allahabad and at Calcutta.* 350 STn.lXGE STOIiTES. " ' Ram Das,' lio aiiswererl, ' you are a child ; you know nothiii<5. Do you think the Feringhecs are so few y Thov are swarmino; across the water like locusts across the Ganges. In a few months, they will all come from where they have been lielping- the Sultan of Eoum against the other Christians, and they will make the whole Dual) into a desert, as they made liohilcund in the days of Hosteiti Sahib."* Shall I tell you the news from Delhi ? ' " 'Yes,' 1 said, ' tell me by all means, for 1 don't believe the Feringhecs will ever again hold rule in India, the land of the all-wise gods.' In those days, Sahib, J was very foolish. I did not know that the Feringhecs were in number like the green parrots, and that they could send countless shiploads across the water as easily as we could send a cargo of dal down tlie river to Benares. " ' Well, tlien,' he said, ' Delhi has been besieged, and before long it will be taken. And the Feringhecs have sent up uicn from Calcutta who have reached Allahabad, and are now on the march for Cawnpore. When they come, they will take us all, and kill the Nana, and there will be an end of the Hindoos for ever. They are going to make us all into Christians by force, baptising us with unclean water, and making l}rahmans and Pariahs eat together of cow's flesh, and destroying all caste, and modesty, and religion altogether.' " ' They ",vill do all these things, doubtless,' I replied, * if tbey can succeed in catching us : but it is impossible. The Feringhees are but a handful : they could never liave ruled us if it were not for the sepoys. They had all the muskets and the ammunition, and they kept them from us. But now that the sepoys have mutinied, the Feringhees are but a few officers and half-a-dozen regiments. And 1 cannot believe that the gods would allow men like them, wiio are worse than Musalmans, * "Warren Hastings. Riyr DAS OF CAWsrouE. \\:a and have no caste, to conquer ns who are the best blood in India, Brahmans, and Jats, and Mahrattas.' " But the jemadar hiughed at me. ' I tell you,' he said, * this rehollion is all child's play. For I have myself been across the water once, as an officer's servant, and and have been to England, and to their great town, London. It is so great that a man can hardly walk across it from end to end in a day ; and if you were to put Allahabad or Cawnpore down in its midst, the people would not know that any new thing had come about. They have ships in their rivers as thick as the canes in a sugar-field ; and iron roads with cars drawn by steam horses. They have so many men that they could overrun all India as easily as the people of Cawn- pore could overrun Bilitoor. And so when 1 hear their guns outside the town, I will run away to them, and I advise you to do so too.' " I didn't believe ]iim at the time ; but a few days afterwards, I found out that the Ferin ghees were really marching from Allahabad. And when wo killed the ladies, they were almost at the door. Tliey fought like demons, and we knew that the demons must all bo on their side. Many times we went out to meet them, but in four separate battles they cut our men to pieces like sheep. At last, just after we had got rid of the ladies, they got to Cawnpore. " Then there was no end of tiie confusion. The Nana got frightened, and fled away. We blow up the magazine, so that they might not have powder; and the Feringhees came at once into the town. There never were people so savage or angry. The sight of the well and the Bibi's house seemed to drive them wild. They were more like tigers than human beings. Every sepoy whom they caught they shot at once for vengeance, because that is their religion : and many who were not sepoys, and who had not borne arms against them, they shot on false evidence. 3-)2 STRANGE STOItlES. Every man who luid a grudge against another told the Feriiigheos that their enemy had helped to cut down the ladies ; and the Feringhees were so greedy for blood that thoy believed it all, and shot them down at once. So much blood was never shed in Cawnpore : for one life they took ten. Then wo knew it was all true what the jemadar had said, and that they would take the whole Doab back, and put back the land-tax, and the salt-tax ; and wo thought too that they would make us all into Christians; but that they have not done, for so long as they get their taxes, and have high pay and good bungalows, and cow's flesli and beer, they don't care about, or reverence any religion, not even their own. For wo Hindoos respect our fakeers, and even the Musalmans respect their pirs ; but the Ferinii;hecs think as little of the missionaries as wo do ourselves, and care more for dances than for their churches. That is why they have not compelleil us to become Christians. "All the time the Fcringhces were in Cawnpore, I lay hid in the jemadar's house. Ho was a good man, though ho had gone over to the Feringhees as soon as they came in sight : and nobody suspected his house, because he was now on their side, and had given them news of all that took place in the town when we killed the officers and the ladies. So I was (juito safe there, and got dal and water every day, and was in no danger at all. " rresentl}-, the Feringhees moved oGf again, abandoning Cawnpore, becauso Ilavelock Sahib, who was the most terrible of their generals, wanted to go on to Lucknow. There the Musalmans of Oude had risen and were besieg- ing the Presidency, with all the soldiers and officers. I would not go to Oude, because I did not care to fight for Musalmans, preferring rather to wait the chance of the Nana coming back ; for only a Mahratta could now recover the kingdom for the Hindoos; and the Musalmans aro almost as bad as the Feringhees themselves. In a short nAM DAS OF CAWSrOJlK V/o'J time, liowovcr, tlio rjwalior men camo. Tliev were cood men, tlio Gwalior men : for thongli Sindiali, tlitir rajah, had commanded them not to iight, they woukl not desert the other Hindoos, when there were Feringhecs to bo killed: and they disohoyed Sindiah, and rehellod, and so I joined them gladly. They pitched only fifteen miles from Cawnpore, and there I went out and enlisted with them. " By-antl-by most of the Gwalior men got frightened, and went back again. Then things became very bad. A few of us marched southward, and hid in the jungles that slope down towards the Jumna, We were very frightened, because there are tigers in that jungle: and two Gwalior men were eaten l)y the tigers. But soon some Feringhecs from Etawa heard of our being there, and tlioy camo out to stalk us. It was just like shooting niI- Tlicj would have tlono it to me, if they hatl caught nio. Do you wonder that I hate the Fcriri