THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 vL.

 
 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS, 
 
 ETC.
 
 Vert de Vert's Eton Days, 
 
 OTHER SKETCHES AND MEMORIES. 
 
 KY THE 
 
 REV. A. G. L'ESTRANGE. 
 
 author of 
 'the village of palaces,' 'the Friendships of m r. mitford,' etc 
 
 LONDON : 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1S87.
 
 
 The circumstances related in the following pages 
 are not fictitious, but mostly derived from my 
 own experience. I have, as the reader will 
 observe, grouped and connected them, and 
 occasionally added some embellishments. 
 
 L'E. 
 
 OQQQC!
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Vert de Vert's Eton Days — 
 
 Chapter I. — First Experiences — Our Pupil Room 
 
 — Fagging — Tarts and ' Wallflowers' - - i 
 
 Chapter II. — 'Trials'— Masters— Hoaxing - 32 
 
 Chapter III. — Swells — Games — The Boats - 53 
 Chapter IV. — An Olden Holiday — The Chris- 
 topher - - - - - "65 
 
 Chapter V. — ' Shirking' — Festivals— Tone of the 
 
 School — The Eton Magazines - - - 78 
 
 On Half-a-crown - - - - - 104 
 
 Love's Laughter - - - - - 106 
 
 The Primrose- - - - - - 125 
 
 Banditti - - - - - - 126 
 
 Proposals ._.--- 143 
 
 Scents - - - - - - - i57 
 
 Successful Men - - - - - 159 
 
 The Oak - - - - - - '75 
 
 Yachting. 
 
 Chapter I. — An Island Romance - - 177
 
 viii coA^T/^yrs. 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 Y AC H T I N G. — Continued. \ 
 
 Chapter II. — The Coast of Ireland— A National- 
 ist — (Erin) - - - - - 138 
 Chapter III. — Priests and Peasants - - 202 
 Chapter IV.— The Yacht's Crew— Becalmed - 21S 
 Chapter V. — Abervrac'h - - - - 238 
 Chapter VI. — Life at Molcne - - - -45 
 Chapter VII. — Roscoff— The Bretons— Sark - 261 
 Chapter VIII. — Cherbourg.— Louise - - 274 
 
 Homeward Bound . . - - . -94
 
 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 First Experiences — Our Pupil Room — Fagging — Tarts and 
 Wallflowers. 
 
 Eton has changed from age to age in accord- 
 ance with the circumstances and feehngs of the 
 times. Sir Thomas Wyat obtained the provostship 
 from Henry VHI. because it would bring him 
 his diet, lodging, horse-meat, servant's wages, 
 riding charges, and one hundred pounds a year. 
 The headmaster's remuneration ought certainly to 
 have been liberal at this time, for he gave much 
 in return. Tusser the agriculturist bears witness 
 to the activity of the terrible Udall at Eton : 
 
 'Where stripes fifty-three 
 All given to me 
 At once I had 
 For faults but small — 
 Or none at all.' 
 
 Boys need not regret that those good old days 
 
 1
 
 2 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 have departed ; but perhaps some land-owning" 
 parents who find it difficult to meet their sons* 
 accounts would not object to the charges in the 
 eighteenth century, as in 1725 an oppidan's ex- 
 penses only amounted to /"45 a year. Those of 
 Pitt (Earl of Chatham) did not reach that amount. 
 In 1764 the school rose, under energetic 
 management, to the unprecedented number of 
 five hundred boys ; and in 1796 a great event 
 took place in the world of school sports. Eton 
 played Westminster at cricket on Hounslow 
 Heath. The oppidans all took French leave on 
 this occasion to go to the match, but, alas ! the 
 other side was victorious. 
 
 If we could peep into Eton as it existed at the 
 commencement of this century we should see a 
 very different state of things to that which is now 
 presented. The authorities are grand in ' cauli- 
 flower ' wigs, and the fags are busy cleaning their 
 masters' boots and clothes. As to the collegers, 
 some are employed in sawing up logs of wood. 
 Their home is the ' Long Chamber,' where they 
 sleep, study, and riot. At night it is dimly 
 lighted by dip candles stuck into paper holders, 
 and round the large fire sit the upper boys, 
 frying and roasting purloined fish and piggies. 
 Boys returning home after dusk ring all the
 
 OLD AMUSEMENTS. 3 
 
 dames' bells, and furious encounters take place 
 with hoops between collegers and oppidans. 
 Sometimes the assistant-masters awaken the con- 
 sciences of their pupils with a tingling box on 
 the ear. 
 
 Swimming was in great favour at this period. 
 Three miles were often accomplished, and some 
 boys would show their skill by taking headers off 
 Windsor bridge. ' Snaggles,' or small trout, then 
 abounded in the Thames, and those who took 
 to fishing occasionally landed a good salmon- 
 trout.* Others hired guns and went out shooting. 
 In 1817 the boys started a dramatic society, 
 not much to the masters' satisfaction, as it 
 caused dissensions between them and their wives. 
 The ladies encouraged these performances against 
 the protests of their better halves, and actually 
 went in sedan chairs to Datchet Lane to see 
 them. But before long Dr. Keate interposed, and 
 extinguished these frivolous amusements. He 
 was a great disciplinarian in his own way, and 
 must have had strength equal to his convictions, 
 
 * By my time fishing had degenerated into a few lower 
 boys trying for bleak. If the rumour spread that a trout had 
 been seen, a regiment of men started from Windsor and Eton 
 to fish for it, but no Eton boys were in its ranks. Wiring 
 pike in the stream with a noose or a pole was an old school 
 amusement, and not uncommon in my day. 
 
 I — 2
 
 4 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 for it is recorded that he once flogged eighty boys 
 consecutive^. 
 
 By the year 1825 we find peg-tops and hoops 
 discarded — much too puerile — and the upper 
 boys keeping beagles and driving (against rules) 
 gigs and tandems even as far as the cock-pit at 
 Maidenhead. This change was not accompanied 
 by any great improvement in domestic comfort. 
 Some of the rooms were as small as five feet by 
 six, some were not carpeted, and a few of those 
 on the ground-floor were rendered fragrant by the 
 contents of pails descending from the upper 
 windows. At church the sixth form and noble- 
 men sat in the stalls, in which dignified position 
 they munched almonds and raisins during divine 
 service. The lower boys were also active : on the 
 fifth of November they revenged their wrongs by 
 making a bonfire of their Greek Grammars in the 
 school-yard ; and later in the year, when the 
 snow came, they would industriously collect it in 
 the house, in order that in the evening they might 
 overwhelm some little fellow and his books with 
 the icy pile. 
 
 The last four decades have produced an un- 
 usual number of alterations, but still the old place 
 retains some of its former features. The picture 
 which will be presented in the following pages
 
 PREPARATION. 5 
 
 is taken from the five years between 1845 and 
 1850. The great Dr. Hawtrey was at this time 
 headmaster, and the old system was in many 
 respects unchanged, though towards the end of 
 the time the new order was foreshadowed by 
 additional examinations. After these introductory 
 observations I shall request De Vert to come and 
 tell his story in his own words : — 
 
 The name of Eton had been familiar to me 
 from my earliest years. Several of my cousins 
 had been there, and they seemed to speak of their 
 Eton days as the happiest period of their lives. 
 My uncle, for whom I had an immense admiration 
 on account of the skilful way in which he manu- 
 factured bird traps, had also been there ; and often 
 in the winter evenings, before my hated bedtime 
 arrived, would take me upon his knee and tell rne 
 such stories of his school-life as greatly excited 
 my juvenile ambition. He had actually blacked 
 boots, been made a warming-pan of, climbed out 
 of windows and over garden walls, and finally had 
 been duly marked with the Eton arms by the 
 birch of old Keate, who was very unwilling to 
 * spoil ' so good a child. 
 
 My parents did not take the same pleasure that 
 I did in these recitals. They thought my uncle 
 was unsettling my mind and teaching me naughty
 
 6 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA VS. 
 
 tricks ; besides, as my papa observed, he had not 
 decided upon sending me to Eton. But after 
 what I had heard I was quite decided upon going, 
 and from the day that I reached twelve gave my 
 parents no peace whatever. I became desponding 
 and irritable, so that it was thought better to 
 entertain the project ; and an old friend, being 
 asked his opinion, replied judiciously that for 
 steady boys Eton was a desirable place, but that 
 an erratic genius would be better under stricter 
 supervision. How delighted I was on hearing 
 that judgment had been given in my favour! 
 How overwhelmed when, on applying to one of 
 the Eton masters, we were informed that as I 
 could not write Latin verses I could not be ad- 
 mitted to the school ! 
 
 The fact was that up to that time I had been 
 under the care of a private tutor, and my studies 
 had been principally confined to the modern 
 languages. I had, indeed, a slight acquaintance 
 with Latin and Greek, but of versification I was 
 supremely ignorant. Here, then, was an unex- 
 pected and apparently insurmountable difficulty. 
 I was in danger of being sent to Harrow, where I 
 could be admitted later; but by active importunity 
 I persuaded my parents to send me to a 'crammer,' 
 or * coach,' and promised to acquire the necessary
 
 PREPARATION. 7 
 
 proficiency before I arrived at the prescribed limit 
 of fourteen. 
 
 My studies were now directed into an entirely 
 new channel. In Greek I was instructed in a 
 book called ' Farnaby,' containing a choice selec- 
 tion of jests and epitaphs, all of which seemed to 
 me to be equally melancholy. I never was able, 
 with the aid of the best lexicon, to find much 
 point in a Greek joke. In Latin I was introduced 
 to the charms of poesy by writing ' nonsense ' 
 verses, that is, such as consisted of words but 
 contained no ideas, resembling, in this respect, 
 the effusions of some living bards. After 
 emerging from this poetical purgatory, I arrived 
 in a bright region where I sang of woods and 
 streams, and trees and fields, and revelled in 
 eternal spring; and I was finally admitted into 
 Arcadia itself, and wrote amatory addresses to 
 Phillis, Chloe, Daphne, and all the rest of them, 
 even the nymphs and goddesses not being free 
 from my persecution. All this ought to have been 
 very delightful, and would have been so had I 
 not been obliged to express my feelings in words 
 fitted together like a Chinese puzzle, and some- 
 times to omit my strongest claim to consideration 
 on the ground that it contained a false quantity. 
 At the end of the year, however, I and three other
 
 8 VEJ?T DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 little boys left our tutor's with a vocabular}- for 
 blushes, glances, sighs, groans, and ejaculations 
 sufficient to move the compassion of the most 
 cruel mistress or the most exacting master. 
 
 The awful day of examination now approached, 
 and nry papa took me to one of the assistant 
 masters. He always accompanied me on visits to 
 the dentist, and this appeared somewhat similar. 
 I had need of support on this occasion, for there 
 was an indescribable ' something ' about Mr. 
 Cookesley that filled me with apprehension. 
 Whether it was his suavity or his faultless shaven 
 face I cannot say ; but when he bade me be 
 seated, and handed me the sense for verses and 
 a sheet of paper, I seemed to be in the power 
 of some gentlemanly executioner. Nymphs and 
 goddesses, with all their blushes and impro- 
 prieties, vanished into thin air, and I felt as 
 though my mind were as blank as the surface of 
 the paper before me. It was a relief when he 
 quitted the room with my papa, and I was left 
 alone with my troubles. I have since heard of a 
 boy who, under similar circumstances, got out of 
 the window and went to a friend at the 
 Christopher, who did his verses for him. 
 
 How appalling did that smooth sheet before 
 me appear ! How glad should I have been to be
 
 FIRST EXPERIENCES. 9 
 
 able to say, 'Take back the virgin page!' But 
 yet upon my performances upon it depended all 
 my hopes of an Eton career. I dipped my pen 
 three times in the ink before I could summon 
 courage to pollute its snowy whiteness, and when 
 I did so it was — oh, horror ! — by a great blot, the 
 sight of which almost deprived me of breath. 
 This misadventure, however, had one good effect : 
 the field was now broken, and I felt I must exert 
 myself to atone for my black offence. Nothing 
 occurred to interrupt my work of fixing and 
 joining until, about half an hour after I had com- 
 menced, I heard a light tap at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' I said timidly. 
 
 A little boy about three feet nothing presented 
 himself, and, looking round, asked in an off-hand 
 manner which seemed to me bordering on pro- 
 fanity : 
 
 ' Where's my tutor ?' 
 
 I was unable to inform him, and he then walked 
 over to the other side of the table at which I was 
 writing, and eyed me with undisguised and, as I 
 thought, unpleasant curiosity. 
 
 ' Are you coming to my tutor's ?' he inquired. 
 
 ' Yes, I believe so,' I simpered. 
 
 This seemed to throw him into profound specu- 
 lation.
 
 lo VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 ' Have you been in to speeches ?' at length he 
 asked. 
 
 ' No, I have not.' 
 
 * Then you'll get pretty well squashed when you 
 go,' he added, with evident satisfaction, and dis- 
 appeared, grinning with enjoyment at my mystifi- 
 cation and alarm. 
 
 My papa called for me in the evening, and next 
 day we returned and heard, to my great delight, 
 that I had passed the examination, and was to be 
 entered on the books in the afternoon. The head- 
 master's duty not being of so personal a character 
 as those of the assistants, he was proportionably 
 less formidable, and kept smiling and bowing with 
 charming affability and condescension. I had to 
 inscribe my name in a great book, an operation 
 I performed in my largest round hand, bearing in 
 mind that its pages might some day be searched 
 to find so valuable an autograph. This being 
 accomplished, my papa left me at my dame's with 
 his blessing, a sovereign, and a plum cake. 
 
 Notwithstanding the high position to which I 
 had now attained, I must confess that I felt very 
 desolate as the carriage drove away. There was 
 no one to sympathize with me or care what 
 become of me. I saw some boys playing about 
 and talking to one another, but they only stared
 
 ^ FIRST EXPERIENCES. 1 1 
 
 at me as at some unnatural phenomenon. It was 
 a great relief when the housemaid came down 
 and took me up to show me my room. My ex- 
 pectations as to accommodation were naturally 
 great. Eton had always been connected in my 
 mind with everything grand and superlative, and 
 I looked forward to some unusual elegance and 
 luxury. Picture my consternation when I was 
 directed to a sort of closet, about a quarter the 
 size of my bedroom at home, and which with its 
 barred windows seemed like a chamber in a prison 
 or lunatic asylum. The furniture was all of the 
 commonest wood, and consisted of a table, two 
 chairs, well carved by preceding generations, 
 a bureau — a sort of iniiltiujt in parvo for books, 
 clothes, and everything else — and a large press, the 
 use of which I could not divine, though it seemed 
 to me unpleasantly like a place of punishment. 
 It contained my bed, but my misgivings were not 
 without foundation, for I have heard of boys 
 turning one another up and fastening them into 
 these receptacles. 
 
 The motherly person who accompanied me was 
 most kind, and seemed desirous of making me 
 comfortable as far as lay in her power. She 
 unpacked my portmanteau, and laid my clothes 
 neatly in the little drawer, then spread my cloth,
 
 12 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 made me a large pot of weak tea, and brought up 
 my ' order,' which consisted of a hunch of bread 
 and a thin shce of butter on a piece of paper. 
 This seemed to me but an unsavoury repast, but 
 it was seasoned by a sense of my newly-acquired 
 dignity, although I could not but think Eton a 
 very different place from what I had expected. 
 
 In the evening my tutor sent for me to go to 
 the pupil-room. It was situated close to the back 
 door, had no carpet, and was furnished with three 
 rows of ancient desks and benches, melancholy to 
 behold. The only thing which seemed to be 
 liberally supplied was ink, and of this the little 
 boys sitting round w^ere actively taking advantage, 
 for not only pens, but fingers, books, and every- 
 thing else seemed saturated with the indelible 
 fluid. Each of the pupils had a ruled sheet — 
 which looked like a tax-paper — before him, and 
 was supposed to be doing derivations ; that is, 
 tracing out the parentage and pedigree of certain 
 misbegotten Greek words. I was directed to 
 sit down with the rest, and took my place between 
 two boys who appeared to be hard at \vork; but I 
 found that in reality one was cutting his name on 
 the alread}- well-scored desk, and the other draw- 
 ing likenesses of my tutor in a grotesque and 
 pre-Raphaelite style. As soon as I was seated
 
 PUPIL ROOM. 13 
 
 they each began to inquire my name, and on my 
 reply my artistic neighbour drew something hke a 
 sack with two handles, and passed it round the 
 room, with ' De Vert ' inscribed under it. 
 Indignant at such disrespectful treatment, I 
 endeavoured to remonstrate, but my labour was 
 in vain, and only produced a pin from my wood- 
 carving neighbour, with which he pricked me so 
 mercilessly that I could not obtain a minute's 
 rest. While expostulating and trying to seize my 
 tormentor's arm, I was suddenly startled by my 
 tutor's voice calling out in an authoritative tone : 
 
 * De Vert, attend to your work. If you have 
 finished, I will give you something more.' 
 
 Finished ! alas, I had not commenced ! 
 
 ' You'll be swished to-morrow, De Vert, if you 
 don't do your derivations,' said my neighbour 
 with the pin. 
 
 ' Yes, that you will,' corroborated the pre- 
 Raphaelite ; ' and pretty tight, too ; you'll be 
 " diverted." You'd better look slippery.' 
 
 ' But how can I do anything while you're tea«;ing 
 me so ?' 
 
 ' Teasing you ? that is good. I say, Smith, he 
 calls bullying " teasing " him. Who tnnght you 
 that word — the lady's maid ?' 
 
 * I don't know,' I replied sulkily.
 
 14 VERT DE VERrS ETON DAYS. 
 
 ' Oh, you're ^oing to be cocky, are you ? That 
 won't do here, I can tell you. You'll soon have 
 to chain up,' he added, f^iving me a pinch. 
 
 ' De Vert !' called out my tutor, with significant 
 severity, 'don't let me have to speak to you again.' 
 
 But the chief disturbance took place when my 
 tutor was called from the room for a few minutes. 
 All the boys left their work and stood up, and some 
 of them turned their attention to me in anything 
 but an agreeable manner. Half-a-dozen voices 
 called out together — 
 
 * What's your name ?' 
 
 * I've told you,' I returned. 
 
 'You must answer your name when you are 
 asked,' was the reply, ' until you've been a year at 
 the school.' 
 
 This law having been enunciated, every boy in 
 the room demanded my name in turn with 
 merciless pertinacity ; and although the Christian 
 virtues of forbearance and patience under injuries 
 had been well instilled into me at home, I felt 
 myself losing my temper under such provocation. 
 At the same time my new Greek Grammar, which 
 I felt proud of and had missed, was thrown at 
 me from the other end of the room, and I found 
 that some genius had assiduously inscribed ' De 
 Vert is a fool ' on every leaf of it. This was too
 
 PUPIL ROOM. 15 
 
 much. All my amiability vanished, and I de- 
 manded fiercely, ' Who has done this ?' 
 
 'Crown him ! crown him !' cried several voices 
 at once; and at the word a little urchin jumped 
 upon one of the forms, unhooked the bell of the 
 gas-lamp, and clapped it on my head. It was full 
 of lamp soot, so that the state of my head and 
 hair may be imagined. 
 
 I felt quite wild and reckless, seized my 
 decorator round the waist, and after a contest, we 
 both fell over and rolled struggling under one of 
 the desks. At this moment my tutor's step was 
 heard in the passage, and all rushed to their 
 places. My antagonist was up much quicker than 
 I, and was sitting as motionless as though he had 
 been a fossil for centuries. 
 
 ' De Vert !' said my tutor on entering, ' making 
 a disturbance again ! This is a bad beginning. 
 What are you doing with the lamp-bell ?' 
 
 ' Nothing, sir," I replied, with conscious inno- 
 cence. 
 
 As he looked at me he seemed to find it difficult 
 to maintain his gravity, but succeeding, demanded : 
 
 ' Then who took it down ?' 
 
 ' You won't sneak ?' whispered the genius of 
 the lamp. 
 
 It was a point of honour, made so probably by
 
 i6 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 wrong-doers, that no one should betray another 
 to a master. 
 
 As I made no reply, our tutor said : 
 * Very well. You'll all write out the ' Penseroso ' 
 of Milton, and let me have it at two o'clock to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 At half-past nine we showed up our derivations; 
 and then, as the other boys told Spratt they 
 were not going to write out the Penseroso, he 
 had to give himself up, and was condemned to 
 expiate his offence next morning upon the block. 
 
 But what weighed most on my mind that 
 night was that my tutor had informed me that I 
 should have to say twenty lines of Ovid by rote 
 next morning. My severest task hitherto had 
 been to learn ten in a day ; to learn twenty in 
 an hour seemed superhuman labour. I asked 
 some of the boys what would happen if I failed, 
 and they assured me that a ' swiping ' or ' swishing' 
 was the regular penalty. Next morning, after a 
 miserable night, I went for the first time into 
 school."^ The long ' Upper School ' we entered 
 
 •■■ We rose in the morning by candlelight. The fourth 
 form had an infhction called ' Long-morning.' They had to 
 be in school by half-past seven, but when the masters over- 
 slept themselves there was a ' run ' — i.e., no school. It would 
 appear that there was an earlier school formerly, for we read 
 of six o'clock school.
 
 'SAVIXG LESSOX: 17 
 
 had an ancient, dingy appearance, with old forms, 
 scored panelhng, and grimy windows. In four 
 large boxes, sat severe-looking personages in 
 caps and gowns, round each of whom a knot 
 of little boys was collected, following each 
 other in repeating parts of the 'saying lesson.' 
 I became so nervous that when my turn came 
 I should not have been able to go through 
 a single line had I not been assisted in an un- 
 expected manner. As it was one part of the 
 duty of the ' prsepositor,' a boy of the class, to 
 provide the master with a book of this lesson, so 
 it was another part to place a second copy open 
 on the form below where our master — who by 
 some merciful dispensation was shortsighted and 
 kept his nose into his book — was unable to see it. 
 By this arrangement things went on merrily, 
 the boys reading off the lesson accurately, and the 
 master dismissing each with an approving ' Next.' 
 Eleven o'clock school was over in half an hour, 
 and at twelve all the lower boys in our house 
 assembled with undisguised delight to see Spratt 
 ' swished.' Everyone but himself seemed to think 
 it capital fun. We accompanied him upstairs to 
 the headmaster's room — a small chamber adjoin- 
 ing the upper school. Here were the full terrors 
 of the law. The block, with all its appalling 
 
 2
 
 1 8 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 associations, had been drawn forth, and beside it 
 stood two collegers in their long black gowns, 
 as if about to assist at a real execution. The 
 centre of the scene was formed by the doctor 
 himself; but how changed from the obsequious 
 courtier of yesterday ! There he stood, stern 
 and statuesque, with his nose sublimely elevated, 
 and the birch rod in his hand — eternal thunder 
 ' settled on his head.' 
 
 ' Spratt minor !' he demanded with marked and 
 awful brevity. 
 
 ' Here, sir,' replied the culprit, emerging from 
 the crowd with an elongated countenance, and 
 wearing a pair of thick leather gauntlets. 
 
 ' Go down !' commanded the doctor airily. 
 
 ' Please, sir, it's my first fault,' urged Spratt, in 
 a tone of injured innocence. 
 
 ' Why, you were here last week !' replied the 
 doctor indignantly. 
 
 'No; please, sir, that was my major' (elder 
 brother). 
 
 ' I know your face perfectly,' insisted the doctor. 
 
 ' And more than his face,' suggested a boy 
 behind me. 
 
 ' At all events,' concluded the doctor, ' I only 
 allow first fault for lessons. Go down ! — a lamp- 
 bell is a lamp-bell !'
 
 THE BLOCK. 19 
 
 There was no contradicting this, and his only 
 plea having failed, Spratt was soon kneeling on 
 the block. The object of the gauntlets, which 
 I could not at first understand, now became 
 manifest, for every time the birch descended he 
 thrust his hand in the way to break its force. 
 The collegers did all in their power to prevent 
 this evasion of justice, but he nevertheless some- 
 times succeeded, and accordingly the doctor, who 
 was conscientious, gave him a sly cut just as he 
 was rising, to square accounts and make up for all 
 deficiencies. 
 
 [I may here observe that occasionally a boy 
 found it an advantage when he had a brother a 
 twin, or very much like him. When complained 
 of he could say his brother was the delinquent, and 
 the doctor sometimes became so puzzled between 
 them that he hesitated about the punishment.] 
 
 Next day a little boy, who occupied the room 
 below me, and was not altogether proof against 
 the attractions of my plum cake, proposed that 
 we should mess together. Eton is in this respect 
 more sociable than Oxford, and there is scarcely 
 anyone there who takes his breakfast and tea 
 alone. Sometimes three or four join, and they 
 usually in turn make little additions to the repast. 
 The boys at these messes are generally good
 
 20 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 friends, of the same standinj^ in the school, and 
 the quiet morning and evening reunion was a 
 pleasant contrast to the turmoil of business or 
 pleasure during the day. 
 
 The only thing that interfered with our enjoy- 
 ment at this time was fagging — a word which has 
 widely different significations. The lower boys 
 in each house belong to the head or captain of it, 
 and he, according to his generosity, appoints some 
 of them to attend on the fifth form below him. 
 The amount of fagging therefore depends on the 
 characters and number of the upper boys in the 
 house. In some cases it is a mere form, like 
 tendering a rose in token of vassalage, but with 
 us, unfortunately, it was a reality. At nine every 
 morning we laid our masters' cloth and breakfast 
 things and then waited for their arrival, which 
 was generally late, as they were ' swells ' in 
 the ' eight ' or ' eleven,' and moved with a slow- 
 ness suitable to their dignity. Woe betided us if, 
 on their appearance, anything was misplaced on 
 the table. If a fork or the mustard was wanting, 
 summary punishment was inflicted, even though 
 the deficiency was immediately supplied. Our 
 masters then generally sent us out to Webber's, a 
 well-known cookshop, to see whether their hot 
 meat was ready. Here some dozen or more fags
 
 FAGGING. 21 
 
 would be seen anxiously assembled round a large 
 kitchen fire, while a portly dame was manipulating 
 a hissing collection of gridirons and frying-pans, 
 containing chops, steaks, sausages, and kidneys. 
 On our return with the required dish, and after a 
 little rough joking, the permission ' You may go ' 
 met our delighted ears. By this time our tea 
 was often cold, and we had only time to snatch a 
 few mouthfuls of our uninviting ' order ' before we 
 went into the pupil-room. Something of the same 
 kind, except the meat service, occurred at tea 
 time, and fagging was not over after ' lock up,' 
 for during the evening the fifth form in the house 
 were perpetually calling ' Here !' When this 
 dismally droning sound reached the lower boys, 
 the quickest of them instantly cried out ' Finge !' 
 which was supposed to excuse him from attendance. 
 On answering the call you were generally sent on 
 a message, sometimes were required to sing a 
 song, and occasionally had something thrown at 
 you. But this sort of play was due to the high 
 spirits of the upper boys, and had no immediate 
 connection with fagging. When our masters 
 were punishing us for small omissions, they would 
 sometimes cheer us by telling us how much more 
 severe were the sufferings they had themselves 
 endured. Some of them could just remember
 
 22 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 when cricket fagginj^ (still continued at Harrow) 
 was common at Eton, and was an intolerable in- 
 fliction. It seems to have included bowling, and 
 not only did the fifth form intercept and impress 
 lower boys coming out of school, but their fellow 
 fags were employed to lay in w'ait for them and 
 entrap them by various pretences. Twenty years 
 previous to this, when the upper boys drove gigs, 
 they gave their fags, whom they employed as 
 tigers, considerable trouble. Earlier still, the boys 
 had to steal other fellows' rolls for their masters' 
 breakfasts, and one, who had been fag of the 
 future Wellington, told me that the chief service 
 he had to perform was that of a bed-warmer, for 
 the fifth form then made the lower boys lie for a 
 time in their beds to take off the chill. 
 
 Fagging in these irksome forms did not exist 
 in my day. Two or three times I was sent for 
 beer, and once punished for letting a bottle drop ; 
 and an unlucky boy had sometimes to attend at 
 fives, then only played against the church wall. 
 The system seems to have been caused by the 
 paucity of servants, and the duties are being 
 always more and more delegated to them. The 
 Poets' Walk attendance is now performed by a 
 paid person. But I think that fagging, like many 
 other trials, was finally productive of good fruit.
 
 DISCOVERIES. 23 
 
 It not only taught us to clean knives, lay tables, 
 and do a little cooking, but, what was more im- 
 portant, it knocked out some vanity, and made us 
 considerate to servants, and less sensitive to small 
 injuries and insults. 
 
 Before I had been many days at the school 
 I had made two extraordinary discoveries. One 
 was that Eton boys had no papas or mammas. 
 On the day after my arrival I found Jones and 
 Vere throwing my nightcaps out of the window, 
 and called out to them not to do so, as my mamma 
 had told me to wear them. Never shall I forget 
 the burst of laughter with which that announce- 
 ment was received. The only thing more ridiculous 
 than wearing a nightcap was having a ' mamma.'* 
 Thompson, who was good-natured, spoke to me 
 afterwards about it gravely and as a friend. An 
 Eton boy, he said, had no ' mamma,' but a 
 ' mother,' ' mater,' or ' maternity.' I might take 
 my choice. And the corresponding terms were 
 used instead of ' papa '; ' governor ' was not used. 
 
 But the second discovery was more startling — 
 there were no boys at Eton ! As soon as the 
 smallest atom had his name registered on the 
 
 * At this time nightcaps had not been many years dis- 
 carded in the school, and papa and mamma were household 
 words.
 
 24 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 headmasters books he was constituted there and 
 then a 'fellah.' This designation, it must be 
 understood, had no reference to Egyptian bond- 
 age, but was the superlative form of ' fellow,' 
 synonymous with 'good fellow,' and signified that 
 its happy possessor had all the best qualities im- 
 plied by the latter and many more besides. The 
 distinction made by the epitaph, 
 
 ' Here lies a fellow of no notoriety. 
 Not even a fellow of the Royal Society,' 
 
 would not have been here allowed. 
 
 These changes in style appeared to me some- 
 what dignified, but in another matter I was sadly 
 disappointed. I had always looked forward to 
 being an ' Etonian ' ; there was something melo- 
 dious and classical in the appellation. To my 
 dismay I now found that there was no such 
 being, and that the term, like the corresponding 
 ' Oxonian,' was only fit to be used by tailors and 
 shoemakers. 
 
 My next discovery was — with all deference to 
 the headmaster and provost be it spoken — that 
 the real autocrat of Eton (at least, of the lower 
 boys) was — the pieman. He was a pleasant per- 
 sonage to behold, of sleek aspect and apple-red 
 face, and had he lived in olden days his contour 
 might have done credit to some pious fraternity.
 
 THE WALL. 25 
 
 Oiliness was his characteristic. It seemed to 
 have mounted from his smile into his hat, and 
 I agree in the calculation that if the latter had 
 been boiled down it would have produced a pint 
 of grease. But though its brim was broad enough 
 for a Quaker, he wore it on the side of his head, 
 and assumed a jaunty air much out of keeping 
 with his porcine proportions. 
 
 There was something very remarkable about 
 this man ; a haze of mystery seemed to surround 
 him. His name could not be found in any direc- 
 tory, and many boys confidently affirmed that 
 no one knew who he was or whence he came. 
 Some believed he was a man of fortune who had 
 an eccentric fancy for selling pies ; but he was 
 generally considered to be entirely different from 
 any other created being. The machine which he 
 carried on his arm bore, like himself, a double 
 character. It was a square tin box with legs 
 underneath and a handle above, and of so con- 
 venient a height that, while it served as a re- 
 ceptacle for ' turts ' and other juvenile delicacies, 
 it also answered as a seat on which the owner 
 could rest himself and keep the contents warm. 
 
 This genius was the centre of Eton in more 
 than a metaphorical sense, for he took up his 
 position at an entrance near the school-gate.
 
 c6 VERT DE VERTS ETON DAYS. 
 
 which most boys had to pass once, and many 
 half a dozen times, in the day ; and here not a 
 few would linger on their way, and cluster like 
 bees round a honey-pot, listening to the soft 
 sentences which fell from his oracular lips. To 
 them he was the ' censor morum ct elegantiarum ' 
 from whose decision there was no appeal. Some- 
 times in his conversational lectures he w^ould 
 astonish his audience with scraps of verse, and 
 when some little boy, unable to restrain his ad- 
 miration, would exclaim, ' Why, Spankie, you're 
 a poet !' he invariably received the metrical 
 rejoinder, ' Sir, I know it.' One of the quota- 
 tions of which he was fond, perhaps because id 
 related to his own line of business, was — 
 
 ' Maid of Hatton's ere we part, 
 Give me one more cherry tart,' 
 
 referring to the shop of a Mrs. Hatton, in which 
 some boys spent a considerable portion of their 
 time. He was very fond of repetitions and dis- 
 connected aphorisms, which enabled him to keep 
 up his stream of talk. When a pause occurred 
 he would ask, without any special relevancy, 
 ' Which do you prefer, sir, stripes or checks ?' or, 
 if he espied a boy in a loud pair of ' bags,' he 
 would exclaim, ' Neat, but not gaudy ; showy, but 
 not expensive.'
 
 THE WALL. 17 
 
 But the most prominent and, in those days, the 
 most refreshing trait in Spankie's character was 
 his reverence for rank. He had a wonderful 
 knowledge of Burke's ' Peerage,' and of the pedi- 
 grees and family connections of the nobility. 
 The place where he daily took up his position 
 was exactly opposite the most aristocratic house 
 in the school, to whose windows he could lift his 
 admiring gaze and imagine that he could see ' mi- 
 lord ' changing his noble trousers after football, 
 or honouring with his spoon a pot of jam which. 
 he had been allowed the privilege of sending him. 
 The distance at which he could see a nobleman 
 coming was almost incredible. Often was some 
 learned effusion with which he was charming the 
 listening throng brought to a sudden termination 
 by ' Good-morning, my lord,' or by a reverential 
 silence announcing that a marquis had dawned 
 on his happy eyes. But for the scions of com- 
 mercial houses, however rich they might be, he 
 entertained small respect. Sometimes he would 
 direct our attention in the following manner to 
 a boy whom he perceived approaching : 
 
 ' Is that you, my little Burton ? Hope you're 
 getting on in your studies, sar. I know one of 
 your public-houses in the Isle of Wight, sar. 
 Your beer is very much liked, sar. You don't
 
 28 VERT J)E VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 put rat's-bane in it, as some do. Saw a coal- 
 porter, last time I was there, wavin.i]^ a pewter- 
 pot and calling out, "Three cheers for Burton's 
 ale !" Did indeed, sar.' 
 
 'Who is that, sar? That's Mr. Snookson. 
 They're great cotton manufacturers. Very re- 
 spectable people, sar, in their way — oh, very ! 
 Never heard nothing at all against them. I 
 believe it's a good concern. The3''re not in a 
 small way, you know, sar — oh dear no !' 
 
 ■ But when a boy of still lower origin was pre- 
 sented to his view he was unable to control his 
 feelings. There were two or three sons of rich 
 tradesmen at Eton, and he seemed to think that 
 no such ill-conditioned progeny had a right to come 
 
 ' Betwixt the wind and his nobility,' 
 and took every opportunity of publicly expressing 
 his sentiments. 
 
 ' Good-marning, sar,' he would say with mock 
 politeness, calling general attention to his victim. 
 ' Glad to see you back, sar. Called at your estab- 
 lishment in the vacation ; bought some pocket- 
 handkerchiefs there. Yery reasonable, sar — six 
 shillings a dozen ; but I don't find them wash 
 well. Would you like to see one, sar ? Oh, I 
 can show it you ; got one in my pocket.' 
 
 I need not say that the boy addressed did not
 
 THE WALL. 29 
 
 want to see or hear anything more, but made his 
 escape as quickly as possible amid much laughter. 
 But although Spankie was a poet and a courtier, 
 he never allowed sentiment to interfere with busi- 
 ness. His commodities did not lose for want of 
 recommendation. Did }ou but ask for a bottle 
 of ginger-beer, he inquired whether you meant 
 champagne, observing that what he sold was 
 called ginger-beer, but was really champagne. 
 Nor did he in his own case despise the profits 
 of trade. His acuteness in deciding who could 
 be trusted and allowed to run up ' ticks,' and who 
 was, on the contrary, ' a bad sort,' was beyond all 
 admiration. He kept an account-book by him 
 for making entries, and was so constantly stud}'- 
 ing this favourite literature that his little cus- 
 tomers grew suspicious, and surmised that he 
 was adding tails to the noughts. I believe he 
 had almost raised ' chousing ' into a fine art. 
 When I returned after my first vacation he 
 brought me in a bill for five times more than 
 I owed him, and from what Mr. Richards says 
 he did not improve afterwards. It required a 
 hardened reprobate to defraud Spankie. Few 
 could resist any of his demands. As soon as his 
 account was presented he allowed no peace till 
 it was paid. Every time his victim passed into
 
 30 VERT DE VERT S ETON DAYS. 
 
 school it was * Good morning, sar. Got it about 
 you, sar?' or 'Good evening, sar. Did you say 
 30U had it now, sar ?' This, repeated about six 
 times a day, wore out the patience of the most 
 incorrigible. Some little boys, however, have an 
 amazing power of opposition ; and I remember on 
 one occasion when Spankie, exasperated and for- 
 getful of his dignity, followed one of these upstairs 
 into his dame's house, he received payment in kind 
 by having one of his own pots of jam broken on 
 his head. 
 
 Spankie accumulated a considerable amount of 
 money, became an owner of houses, and his real 
 name of Le Marchant was as suitable as it was 
 euphonious. 
 
 But even the great Spankie was not exempt 
 from the cares of life. He had an enterprising 
 rival, soft and portly as himself, and provided 
 with a much more formidable engine of destruc- 
 tion. At three o'clock every day something like 
 a huge barrow with two wheels was seen ap- 
 proaching the school-wall, beside which it was 
 soon opened, and — oh, wondrous display ! — what 
 an aggravating variety of delights saluted the 
 bewildered senses. 
 
 Here were grapes, raisins, oranges, cakes, all 
 sorts of biscuits, ices in summer, sausage-rolls
 
 THE WALL. 31 
 
 and oyster-patties in winter. But the highest 
 heaven was a ' strawberry mess,' composed of 
 fresh fruit beaten up with iced cream and sugar. 
 On this bright revelation being opened some 
 immediately made their choice and ' fell to,' while 
 others who had been extravagant or were not so 
 well provided with ' tin ' stood round and beheld 
 them with mingled admiration and misery. Never 
 did counsel regard woolsack, or curate crozier, 
 with half such longing as these little bankrupts 
 did the contents of that magic wagonette. 
 Sometimes their feelings overcame them, and 
 they gave way to doleful appeals, such as, ' I say, 
 Bryant, you might as well tick me some grapes ;' 
 or, ' Come, Wilton, sock me half an ice ; I know 
 you're a brick,' but generally in vain. 
 
 The dispenser of this tantalising store was a 
 good-natured, commonplace man, without the 
 romance or astuteness of Spankie, and was more 
 frequently imposed upon by his young cus- 
 tomers. Yet could he sometimes show skill and 
 business qualities ; and when a little * fellah ' 
 would complain that he had given him but a 
 small pennyworth of preserve in his jam-bun, 
 he would evince the amiability of his intentions 
 by saying : ' I was afraid it might disagree with 
 you, sir.'
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ' Trials ' — Masters — Hoaxing. 
 
 My tutor informed me, about a month after my 
 arrival, that I should have shortly to pass a regular 
 examination. Few boys, even of those best pre- 
 pared, relish such a prospect, and I, being some- 
 what ' shak}',' felt especially nervous. When the 
 awful morning arrived I repaired with the rest of 
 my fellow-sufferers to the well-known bookseller's, 
 where a smiling gentleman, whose comfortable 
 appearance seemed to mock our miser}^, supplied 
 us, much to his satisfaction, with pens, paper, 
 and a pocket ink-bottle. He also handed to each 
 a paper of printed instructions, principally con- 
 cerning unimportant matters, but concluding with 
 the grand statement, ' A few good verses are 
 worth much, and many good verses are worth 
 more ; but many bad verses are worth nothing,' 
 which certainly betrayed lamentable ignorance of 
 the value of poetry at the present day. 
 
 An examination is never a pleasant experience,
 
 ' trials: 33 
 
 and this one proved no exception to the rule. 
 Those who had been idle or negligent were, of 
 course, in dire distress, while the rest were 
 worried by their importunities. The first day 
 was principally for writing verses, and ' Give us 
 a three-syllabled word for " place," ' ' What's the 
 Latin for " seat " ?' and such-like questions, 
 varied with ' I'll give you a licking when we come 
 out,' might be heard at intervals around ; but the 
 masters by walking up and down caused the 
 fusilade to be somewhat irregular. Some of the 
 boys' papers, from repeated scratchings, cross- 
 ings, and interpolations, more resembled pictures 
 or pieces of music than exercises. 
 
 We all in our division greatly dreaded our being 
 moved up to Mr. Birch. He had a character for 
 severity. This was no doubt partly due to his 
 name, and partly to his keen, aquiline coun- 
 tenance and the extreme precision of his dress 
 and manner. It was felt that he would not over- 
 look spot or wrinkle. But we did not find him 
 such a dragon as we expected, though we had to 
 be more careful than heretofore with our lessons. 
 There must have been some secret magic about 
 him, for he managed to draw nearly all the noble- 
 men at the school into his house, through some of 
 whom he eventually became tutor to the Prince 
 
 3
 
 34 VERT DE VERTS ETON DAYS. 
 
 of Wales. When we went up to the circus at 
 Windsor the clown's standinj:,^ joke was, ' Now, 
 if you don't behave yourself, I'll treat you as they 
 do the Prince of Wales — I'll have 3'ou birched T 
 
 Life is a series of disenchantments. In how 
 many respects had my childish ideas altered be- 
 fore I had been a year at Eton ! I had imagined, 
 among other things, that men holding the high 
 position of Eton masters would be superior to 
 any other body in the world ; that those whose 
 duties and whose caps and gowns were similarly 
 awful, would be in every respect a band of brothers, 
 cast in the same mould of unapproachable per- 
 fection. 
 
 How different was the reality ! I was so much 
 surprised that I almost came to the conclusion 
 that they had more peculiarities than any of the 
 same class located within so small a space. They 
 exhibited every phase and degree of kindness and 
 coldness, of ability and irritability. One was 
 sensitive, and thought nothing could prevent a 
 boy from learning his lesson but a malicious desire 
 to offer him a personal affront. Another was 
 magniloquent, liked to hear himself better than 
 anyone else, and visited inattention with pro- 
 portionate severity. I remember on one occasion 
 when a master of this latter type had been making
 
 iM ASTERS. 35 
 
 a long oration, to which as usual no one had been 
 listening, he suddenly turned upon me and de- 
 manded sharply whether I understood what he 
 had been saying. Fearful of a tedious repetition, 
 I answered in the affirmative. ' Then draw your 
 conclusions,' was his summary and convicting 
 reply. 
 
 Some masters who were deep and knowing had 
 in the practice of their vocation acquired powers 
 which appeared almost supernatural. They would 
 close their eyes and relapse into apparent un- 
 consciousness, but at the same time, if any little 
 boy attempted to misconduct himself during this 
 apparent interval of oblivion, he was as sure to 
 be swished as he was to have mutton for his 
 dinner. But what surprised me most was that 
 the masters did not agree in their criticisms of 
 translations and exercises. If you used a word 
 suggested by one master another would some- 
 times take exception to it. I remember a curious 
 instance of this variance of opinion. One of 
 the masters nearly re-wrote a copy of verses 
 for a pet pupil whom he wished to put forward. 
 The master to whom the boy went with these 
 borrowed plumes thought the lines indifferent, 
 but sent the boy up for good for a copy he had 
 done himself. 
 
 3—2
 
 36 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 Schoolmasters have not much changed since the 
 time when Goldsmith wrote : 
 
 ' Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee, 
 At all his jokes, for many a joke had he,' 
 
 In all ages they have sought by humorous sallies to 
 relieve the monotony of their labours. So it was 
 at Eton. The clever, industrious boys generally 
 listened to such pleasantries with contempt, the 
 ' swells ' with a polite smile, but the dunces set up 
 a roar of laughter, which could not be extinguished 
 until they had been severely called to order. They 
 thought this advantageous in two respects, as 
 curtailing the lesson, and also obtaining the 
 master's goodwill. I am bound to say that the 
 jokes were never of a broad or objectionable 
 character ; indeed, they were in general remark- 
 ably innocuous. 
 
 And here, as in duty bound, let me pay a 
 passing tribute to the memory of Cookesley, 
 most learned,- genial, and jocose of masters. 
 Whether I regard his appearance or his tastes, I 
 say, * This was a Roman.' He was not tall, but 
 strongly knit, his features were finely-chiselled, and 
 above his smooth face his light hair ran wild in 
 a profusion of small curls. The stiff clerical garb 
 seemed out of place on him, but he was perfection
 
 3IY TUTOR. ■ 37 
 
 in his usual loose dressing-gown and slippers, and 
 had he been seen in his pupil-room by his friend 
 Dickens, I am sure he would have formed the 
 subject of some delicious episode. As a mimic 
 he was exquisite, and it was said that once at a 
 party, when Dr. Hawtrey entered, he heard to his 
 astonishment his own voice at the other end of 
 the room. This was dangerous, but Cookesley's 
 love of humour was irrepressible. He had 
 nicknames for us all, and the vivacity of the tutor 
 spread to the pupils, in a manner not always 
 perhaps profitable to the Muses. He would 
 carry on his evening work somewhat in the follow- 
 ing fashion : 
 
 A stupid-looking boy would present himself at 
 the desk with a copy in his hand : 
 
 ' Well, Lively !' he would say, ' is that you ? 
 Have you saddled your Pegasus ? Are those your 
 verses ?' 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 After glancing over them, Cookesley would 
 regard him with a comical eye, and demand : 
 
 ' Is this your highest strain ?' 
 
 Presently an Irish nobleman's son, whom he 
 called ' Paddy,' would come up with a face 
 wreathed in smiles. 
 
 ' An' is it yourself I see, Paddy ?' asks my tutor.
 
 38 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 ' Pray has yer honour brought me the small change 
 of those dirivations ?' 
 
 ' No, sir ; I have not finished them.' 
 
 * You're a broth of a boy, Paddy. Can you tell 
 me where Ballyraggin is ?' 
 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 ' P^aith, thin, ye don't know as much of your 
 own counthry as I do myself.' 
 
 Even the punishments he inflicted were more 
 humorous than severe. He kept in his desk an 
 old riding-whip, the top of which had been worn 
 off in the service. This he called the ' Doctor,' 
 and when he saw any boj' inattentive, he would 
 pass round and give him a cut across the shoulders. 
 Sometimes he would seize the culprit by the collar 
 and belabour him with such \-igour and mimicry 
 as greatly increased the evil he sought to remedy, 
 the boy shouting out, ' Oh, sir — no, sir — please, 
 sir — I wasn't, sir — Pll take my dick, sir — Fll take 
 my davy, sir ' — while the rest laughed heartily. 
 But I must add that to the head boys, who were 
 above the pupil-room, he was sufficiently serious, 
 and those who gave attention learned much that 
 was valuable ; for he was the best Greek scholar 
 at Eton, edited Pindar, and wrote a ' Topography 
 of Rome ;' and although some of his pupils 
 irreverently called him ' Mad Moses,' I never,
 
 THE PROVOST. 39 
 
 in after life, met with one of them who did not 
 remember him with affection. 
 
 In the days of which I am writing Dr. Hodgson 
 was provost — a man best known as a friend of 
 Byron. That his temperament was genial may be 
 concluded from the poet's having addressed to 
 him the frolicsome verses beginning, 
 
 ' Huzza Hodgson ! we are going.' 
 
 He was short and stout, but good-looking, and 
 the best sermons we heard were from him ; in- 
 deed, the other preachers (superannuated masters) 
 were particularly dry in the ' wood.' The old 
 usages were so far observed at this time that 
 when the provosts of King's and Eton met, they 
 were accustomed to salute each other with a 
 holy kiss. 
 
 The headmaster, Dr. Hawtrey, was very popular 
 in the school. He was a prince among school- 
 masters ; not only learned, but urbane and 
 dignified. Whatever a boy said he professed, if 
 possible, to believe, and although his confidence 
 was often misplaced, this course had a salutary 
 effect in exhibiting and cultivating a gentlemanly 
 spirit. At the same time his very figure was a 
 caution to evil-doers, for he had a droop in his 
 right shoulder which was supposed to have come 
 from a frequent and vigorous use of the birch.
 
 40 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 Among the lower boys he was generally called 
 ' Plug,' from some peculiarity in his countenance, 
 but the swells, by w^ay of refinement, reversed the 
 name and used ' Gulp ' instead. The same kind 
 of satirical humour led to their ungallantly 
 christening his two old sisters ' Elcphantma ' and 
 ' Rhinocerina.' These ladies had a sedan chair, 
 in which they went to parties in the neighbour- 
 hood, and it was the last vehicle of the kind I saw 
 used. 
 
 The Duke of Cambridge died from the effects 
 of a cold taken at Eton. I remember seeing him 
 on this unfortunate occasion. He attended church 
 and repeated the responses in a very loud voice, 
 but not always quite in the right place. It is 
 well-known that he was one of the old school, 
 and used the expletives fashionable in his youth 
 to such an extent as to congratulate a clergyman 
 
 upon having preached * a d d fine sermon.' 
 
 Most amusing was it to observe him walking 
 about the school and playing-fields with Dr. 
 Hawtrey, who, as an accomplished courtier, kept 
 an obsequious smile on his countenance while 
 listening to the Duke's jocosities. A small friend 
 of mine had to go to Hawtrey at this time about 
 some school business, and the Duke, eying him, 
 said :
 
 EXTRA MASTERS. 41 
 
 ' Now, I dare say that little fellow's a regular 
 pickle.' 
 
 ' Oh, no,' repHed the doctor blandly. ' Heth a 
 vethy good little boy.' 
 
 ' Well, but,' continued -the Duke, ' I think every 
 boy ought to be a pickle. I know I was a rare 
 one myself.' 
 
 The curriculum at Eton at this time was 
 entirely classical and mostly poetical. But other 
 subjects could be learned; and thus, besides the 
 regular masters, whose sway was acknowledged 
 by ever}- boy in the school, there came to be an 
 ambiguous class styled ' extra ' masters. These 
 despised men were permitted to take those who 
 liked to be taught and charged, but had no means 
 of enforcing discipline, inasmuch as, however 
 irritated they might be, they had no right to 
 ' complain ' to the doctor. That the professor of 
 dancing and modern languages should be con- 
 demned to these lower realms seemed nothing 
 wonderful, but I was certainly astonished to find 
 the mathematical master among the shades. This 
 last was a particularly good-natured man — Stephen 
 Hawtrey — and presided in a round, theatrical- 
 looking building, which some called the ' Station 
 House.' Those boys whose parents desired it 
 were entered on the books of this establishment.
 
 42 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 but the time spent at it was one rather of recrea- 
 tion than of study. A pleasant change was some- 
 times made by turning off the gas, or by letting 
 off squibs and crackers in November, which was 
 a particularly merry season. The unfortunate 
 master did not receive much sympathy or com- 
 miseration from his classical superiors, but was 
 rather looked upon by some as an interloper and 
 enemy to versification, and I remember hearing 
 my tutor remark, with reference to his genial 
 manner, that ' a cap and bells would be better 
 suited to him than a cap and gown.' 
 
 I may observe here that gas was not at this 
 time used in the regular schoolrooms. They 
 were illuminated, as were our private rooms, with 
 melancholy 'dips.' In the winter evenings, at 
 five o'clock school, the light would become 
 gradually dimmer, long ' cabbages ' having grown 
 on the wicks, and the master would at last call 
 out, ' Spratt minor, snuff the candles.' The thus 
 appointed official then assumed the black snuffers, 
 but took care not to hurry himself over his task, 
 because, during its performance, he could not be 
 called upon to go on with his lesson, and he 
 knew that the interruption was agreeable to all. 
 
 When I had been a 3'ear at the school I 
 passed another examination, and as I had
 
 'SAPS: 43 
 
 been fairly industrious, rose considerably in my 
 division. In a class of about sixty boys the 
 golden or middle part was composed of such as 
 were moderately gifted wath industry and intelli- 
 gence, Vv'hile the extremes formed a ludicrous 
 contrast to one another. The head boys were 
 generally of weakly physique, and rarely joined 
 much in the games, but took ' constitutionals,' 
 and devoted themselves assiduously to reading. 
 i\Iany of them made their desire for distinction 
 unpleasantly prominent ; wrote exercises two 
 or three times as long as were required, and 
 were thought to raise the standard of require- 
 ments. Some of them had great powers of 
 memor}-. On tvvo mornings in the week forty 
 lines, and on two seventy of Latin or Greek, had 
 to be recited, and there were boys who could repeat 
 wherever they had to go on, without missing a 
 word, although they had only read over the lesson 
 three or four times. Such brilliant gifts did not 
 increase their popularity in the school, and they 
 were generally stigmatised as ' saps ' and ' swinks,' 
 the grain being thus literally among the chaff. 
 
 At the other or ' lag ' end of the class came a 
 widely different community, whose mental de- 
 crepitude was almost grotesque. They were 
 fortunately, for the most part, boys of good ex-
 
 44 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 pcctations, who were never likely to be dependent 
 upon their own exertions. A great incentive to 
 labour is wanting to such as are born to fortune, 
 and they are almost as much to be pitied as 
 blamed. There are more such boys at Eton than 
 in most schools, and I feel certain that they make 
 as much progress there as they would anywhere 
 else. The birch is the only cogent argument that 
 can urge such loiterers along what is not to them 
 the flowery path of knowledge ; and some whose 
 parents took them away and sent them to private 
 tutors confessed to me afterwards that they never 
 learned anything after leaving Eton. The only 
 attention this ' idle progeny ' paid the ' saps ' was 
 the unpleasant one of forcing them to write verses 
 for them, and I remember my tutor having 
 ' nailed ' one of them because, in the depth of his 
 ignorance, he had copied urhh as nohh. In the 
 lessons by rote these boys were ' nowhere,' and 
 after having been variously punished would be 
 finally let off with half the regular amount, which 
 they managed to stumble through with much 
 contemptuous assistance from the master. 
 
 Examinations were the bugbears of these lotus- 
 eaters. The)' were to them in every sense both 
 skeletons and ' trials,' as they were called, but 
 were avoided as much as possible. I well re-
 
 'trials: 45 
 
 member Dr. Hawtrey's saying, after reading over 
 the results of an examination : 
 
 ' Dawdle was absent, being unwell.' 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted this announcement, 
 which was redoubled when the doctor looked 
 round with admirable gravity and said, with his 
 dulcet lisp : 
 
 * I donth know why you thould laugh. I 
 thuppose be wath vethy ill.' 
 
 But perhaps the doctor was right, for the 
 prospect of an examination would have made him 
 very ill. One day I met a genius of this sort 
 going in to trials, and said to him rather mali- 
 ciously : 
 
 ' Well, Lounger, how are you up in your 
 geography ?' 
 
 ' I'm afraid I don't know much about it,' he 
 replied ; ' but I'm well up in my topography,' he 
 added cheerfully, opening his coat. ' Right waist- 
 coat pocket, Greek verbs ; left waistcoat-pocket, 
 list of dates ; breast-pocket, crib to Horace ; 
 right tail pocket, crib to Virgil ; left tail pocket, 
 crib to Homer. I think I'm all right.' 
 
 I afterwards met this boy, who had gone in so 
 heavily armed to the encounter, and asked him 
 how he had succeeded. 
 
 ' Oh, very badly,' he replied. ' I had to show
 
 46 VERT DE VERTS ETON DAYS. 
 
 up a blank paper. The brutes had not given the 
 references to the pieces to be translated, and I 
 spent my whole time searching for them in the 
 cribs and could not find one of them.' 
 
 Another day I met a friend coming out of an 
 examination with a face full of care. 
 
 * \\'ell, Blanque,' I inquired, ' how have you 
 done ? Polished them off?' 
 
 ' No,' he replied, in a mournful tone ; ' I'm 
 afraid not. I've made several mulls.' 
 
 * Big ones ?' I ventured. 
 
 ' I'm afraid so. However,' he added, brighten- 
 ing up, * I've answered one question right.' 
 
 * Well, that's something,' I said, to console 
 him. * How many were there ?' 
 
 ' Twelve.' 
 
 ' You've one right, at all events,' I continued. 
 ' What was it ?' 
 
 ' The distance of the earth from the sun.' 
 ' Well, what did you put ?' 
 
 * Ninety miles.' 
 
 ' Not ninety millions ?' 
 
 ' No ; ninety miles. I know that's all right, 
 because I heard a fellah in front of me say 
 
 so.' 
 
 Such delicious ignorance as this was not to be 
 met with every day, but good stories were con-
 
 • pickles: 47 
 
 stantly in circulation about the wide shots of 
 some of these gifted sons of luxury. 
 
 There was one boy in our division who for some 
 time sorely puzzled me. He was nearly twice as 
 big as any of the rest, and held no communica- 
 tion with us ; indeed, he seemed to regard us with 
 the most ineffable contempt. At first I conceived 
 that he was a private friend of the master, with 
 whom he seemed to be frequently in conversation 
 and consultation, but I afterwards discovered that 
 he was a boy who had been turned down for mis- 
 conduct from a higher class in the school. 
 
 One would have supposed that to some boys 
 Eton must have appeared an approximation to 
 the nether regions, for it was to them a place of 
 perpetual punishment. They were generally in 
 hot water, and many a good lecture they re- 
 ceived. They were turned up and turned down, 
 but there were faults on all sides, and their ad- 
 ventures, misadventures, and subterfuges might 
 have filled amusing volumes. Notwithstanding 
 all this, there was so much of the hon diahle about 
 them that they seemed more jolly than miserable. 
 
 At Eton, as in other schools, a few of the 
 little boys were of a very unamiable disposition. 
 Banter and sarcasm and worrying their com- 
 panions was their chief delight. They were
 
 48 VERT DE VERT'S E TON DA YS. 
 
 generally, in some way, inferior themselves, and 
 tried thus to revenge themselves upon societ}-. 
 Their victims were boys who were too good- 
 natured or timid to retaliate, and they sometimes 
 reminded one of little curs barking at the heels of 
 a Newfoundland. It was the height of their good 
 fortune if they could hit upon some peculiarity or 
 sensitive point in a schoolfellow. They then 
 gave him no peace, and the more he suffered the 
 greater their enjoyment. In some cases this had 
 a good result in correcting eccentricities ; but it 
 caused many who were sensitive to look back 
 upon their Eton life without much pleasure. This 
 kind of petty persecution was carried on almost 
 exclusively by the smaller boys ; very few of the 
 ' big levy ' were guilty of it, and the ' swells ' dis- 
 countenanced it. 
 
 It was a great gratification to the little mis- 
 creants above-mentioned when new boys arrived 
 upon whom they could impose. I suffered on 
 several occasions from their industry in this 
 direction. One instance at present occurs to 
 m^e. The stained east window in the church was 
 erected soon after I went to the school, and a 
 collection was made for it among the boys. A 
 boy who had hoaxed me on two or three occasions 
 said one day to me sardonically :
 
 HOAXING. 49 
 
 ' I say, Vert, you'll have to stump up five 
 shillings for the window.' 
 
 ' Another imposition,' thought I, and replied 
 warily : 
 
 ' No ; I don't think that I shall give more than 
 two and sixpence.' 
 
 Next day the little urchin brought up the 
 subject again, and said : 
 
 ' The captain of the house wants the subscrip- 
 tions for the window. You must go and give him 
 3'our half-crown without delay.' 
 
 I hesitated again, having grown suspicious. 
 However, some of the other lower boys corrobo- 
 rated what he said, and asserted that I should be 
 left out of the list and spited in various ways if I 
 did not pay at once. So I went to the captain's 
 room. I found him reading at his bureau. 
 
 ' I have come,' I said timidly, * to bring my 
 subscription to the window — two and sixpence.' 
 
 He turned round and regarded me in a peculiar 
 and somewhat cynical manner, and then replied 
 dubiously : 
 
 ' Oh, very well ; I'll accept it.' 
 
 His tone seemed that of one conferring a favour. 
 
 I knew, of course, that the captain of the house 
 
 was a great personage, and would not act like 
 
 ordinary people. But still, I was surprised at 
 
 4
 
 so VERT DE VERrS ETON DA YS. 
 
 this way of receiving:,' a subscription. As soon, 
 however, as I left the room I was enhghtened, for 
 I found nearly all the lower boys in the house 
 were collected outside, and greeted me with a 
 burst of laughter. They were in ecstasies ; said 
 I had made a regular fool of myself, that no one 
 gave less than five shillings ; that I should be 
 sent in on a paper by myself, and that all kinds 
 of misfortunes would follow. This made me feel 
 perfectly miserable, and having ascertained that 
 the lowest' sum to be subscribed was five shillings, 
 I next day took the remaining two and sixpence 
 to the captain, who received it with thanks, 
 observing kindly * that it was not in the least 
 compulsory.' 
 
 A remarkable instance of this hoaxing occurred 
 just before I went to Eton. A little boy lately 
 come was describing with pardonable pride some 
 of his exploits at home, and especially relating 
 how he shot a yellow-hammer. One of the lis- 
 teners, filled with envy at such a sporting success, 
 immediately exclaimed : 
 
 * Shot a yellow-hammer ! You'll get into a 
 fine row. Don't you know that all the yellow- 
 hammers in the country belong to the Duke of 
 Wellington ?' 
 
 The boy said he had not been aware of that
 
 HOAXING. 51 
 
 fact or he should not have done it. And the 
 other, seeing that he was much perturbed, per- 
 sisted still further, and drew a dreadful picture of 
 all the consequences which would ensue. 
 
 * But the Duke of Wellington will never hear 
 anything about it,' urged the boy. 
 
 ' Oh yes he will,' continued his tormentor. 
 ' And, moreover, I shall think it my duty to write 
 to inform him.' 
 
 The new boy was now thoroughly alarmed, and 
 still more so next day when the other told him 
 that he had written on the subject to the Duke, 
 and that no doubt an officer would be sent down 
 next day to arrest him. 
 
 The little fellow scarcely knew what to do ; he 
 asked whether he should tell his tutor ; but that, 
 they said, would be of no use. The best course 
 would be to make a clean breast of it, to write a 
 letter to the Duke expressing sorrow for having 
 killed one of his yellow-hammers, and asking for- 
 giveness. 
 
 The boy accordingly wrote to the Duke, not 
 exactly as had been suggested, but asking whether 
 
 he had received a letter from informing him 
 
 that he had been guilty of shooting one of his 
 grace's yellow-hammers. 
 
 The Duke must have been amused, and per- 
 
 4—2
 
 52 VERT DE VERrS ETON DA VS. 
 
 haps reminded of his Eton days. But he was 
 punctilious about sending answers ; and so in two 
 or three days a large letter arrived with a great 
 red seal, in which the little dupe expected to find 
 some terrible announcement. But, when opened, 
 all it contained was that Field-Marshal the Duke 
 of Wellington had not received any such letter as 
 that indicated by the inquirer. 
 
 The hoax was retailed to the boy's tutor, who 
 was so much amused that he purchased the letter 
 for five shillings, and the boy, as he bought tart- 
 lets therewith, might well have exclaimed in the 
 words of the Eton poet — 
 
 ' Where ignorance is bliss, 
 'Tis folly to be wise.'
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Swells. — Games. — The Boats. 
 
 There is something refreshing in the contempla- 
 tion of Eton, and of school life generally, inas- 
 much as we see in it exactly the opposite of what 
 exists in the civilized world. Rank, money, and 
 learning count for little or nothing. If the Greek 
 language was not well studied at Eton, Greek 
 feeling was admirably represented there in the 
 honour paid to athletes, and the truly Homeric 
 triumph of physical force. The whole effect was 
 old classic, if not barbaric. 
 
 A tall muscular figure and handsome appear- 
 ance was as necessary for a ' swell ' at Eton as it 
 is for an Indian chief. Ill-looking or ill-made 
 fellows were never much esteemed, no matter 
 what their other qualifications. The swells were, 
 moreover, a jovial set, distinguished in the sports 
 and games, especially in rowing. All stood high 
 in the school, but for variety they admitted into
 
 54 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 their charmed circle a few younger but not 'lower' 
 boys remarkable for their good appearance and 
 sociability. Swells never consorted with lower 
 boys, nor with mere bookworms. They regarded 
 the latter, as it has been well observed, with 
 * affectionate contempt,' that is, they knew enough 
 of the great world to feel a certain respect for 
 them, but thought it somewhat beneath their 
 dignity to associate with them. 
 
 Eton is in the minds of some associated with 
 fighting. Considering the size of the school, I 
 thought there was no excess of pugilism. But 
 what there was of it, it was in earnest. "Wherever 
 boys are, some will be impudent and bellicose, 
 and more will be determined to maintain their 
 rights ; and at Eton ' blue blood " may have given 
 unusual perseverance to combatants. What sur- 
 prised me at first was that when two boys had a 
 quarrel, instead of settling differences on the spot, 
 they ceremoniously fixed, as in the times of 
 chivalry and duelling, a place and hour for a 
 hostile meeting — a custom not so advantageous to 
 themselves as to their friends, who wished to see 
 the fools perform. The place chosen was a part 
 of the playing-grounds called ' sixpenny,' and the 
 time immediately after dinner. These appoint- 
 ments seemed most unsuitable. The antagonists
 
 MILLS. 55 
 
 would scarcely be in good breath immediately 
 after a meal, and the spot was so public that the 
 combat might easily be stopped. But the ground 
 was consecrated or desecrated by old tradition 
 and a long series of conflicts. Here Wellington 
 had fought his first battle ; here the poet Shelley 
 had tried his hand at colouring. In the period 
 in which Waterloo was fought, the combats were 
 fierce and frequent ; there was one nearly every 
 day, and so persevering were they in their pug- 
 nacity that there is a case on record of two 
 boys rising at six in the morning to begin the 
 conflict, and sparring away for three hours ! The 
 regular time for these ' settlements ' was then 
 after the early morning lesson. In 1825 the Hon. 
 F. Ashley Cooper died after a fight, but this 
 accident is said to have been owing to a breach of 
 the old rule, and the battle taking place in the 
 school-yard, the unfortunate boy's head came 
 against a stone. 
 
 There was much less pugnacity in my time, and 
 the combatants were not the bigger boys ; indeed, 
 the sixth form were bound to put down such pro-: 
 ceedings, but they seldom or never interfered. 
 
 When an event was coming off, the report 
 speedily circulated, and there was generally a 
 considerable number of spectators round the ring.
 
 56 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA VS. 
 
 Many rounds were sometimes fought, and wonder- 
 ful persistency was exhibited. Those were the 
 days of the prize-ring ; some of the older people 
 could remember the ' Corinthians' in high renown, 
 and a man who had seen many such engagements 
 told me that he had seldom seen more pluck 
 exhibited than in some of these little encounters 
 at Eton. I never heard of anyone being seriously 
 injured at them in my time, but remember one 
 boy, whose determination was greater than his 
 strength, having been carried off the ground 
 fainting, and not appearing in school for several 
 days. Hostile feelings seemed to be relieved after 
 these contests, and the combatants became better 
 friends than they had been previously. 
 
 The foot-races, and especially the three-mile 
 steeplechase, with its almost impossible jumps 
 and immersions, were a source of considerable 
 interest just before Easter, but the winter games 
 were football and hockey. The latter held its 
 ground when I first went to Eton, and was 
 patronized by many of the swells. There was 
 then a tradition, which still seems to exist, that it 
 had been from time to time forbidden as dangerous ; 
 but I played it there for five years without either 
 injury or any reprimand. The sticks were not 
 rough, but smoothed and artificially bent, with
 
 HOCKEY. 57 
 
 blades about a foot long. There were two clubs, 
 called upper and lower hockey; but football 
 gradually superseded it, and the game entirely 
 disappeared about the year 1853. With regard 
 to the prohibition, a writer* mentions (in 1832) 
 hockey and football as the chief winter games at 
 Eton, and says that more came away * hobbling ' 
 from the latter than from the former, but speaks 
 further on of a boy having in his room 'an illegal 
 hockey-stick.' He observes that this fine old 
 game had died out in England, except at Eton 
 and Sandhurst, and adds quaintly, ' It is one of 
 the most elegant and gentlemanly exercises, being 
 susceptible of very graceful attitudes, and re- 
 quiring great speed of foot.' At this time quoits 
 were played, but were losing favour, and marbles, 
 hoops and peg-tops had disappeared. 
 
 As football became more general, the contests 
 at it grew fiercer, and in the season two or three 
 collar-bones and a leg would be broken. Every 
 house now had its game and eleven, but the chief 
 interest centred in that played by the older boys 
 at the wall. This was entirely different from the 
 contest in the field, as there was no running, and 
 it consisted entirely in pushing or ' rouging.' 
 
 * Hon. G. W. (Lord) Lyttleton in the Eton Co He (^e Maga- 
 zine.
 
 58 VERT DE VERTS ETON DAYS. 
 
 The annual match between collegers and op- 
 pidans took place by old custom at the wall.* 
 
 The boys who played cricket were at this 
 time comparatively few, and many of them were 
 collegers. They were despised by their boating 
 schoolfellows, who called them ' dry-bobs,' and 
 there seemed to be as much difference between 
 them and the * wet-bobs ' as exists between a dry 
 Quaker and a wet one. The character of cricket 
 was mainly supported by the * tent ' matches 
 which took place annually with the Marylebone 
 and other clubs, and especially by the Lords' 
 matches, then played not only with Harrow but 
 also with Winchester. Boys who thus publicly 
 maintained the honour of the school could not be 
 altogether overlooked, and as a matter of courtesy 
 the eleven was allowed to rank next to the eight ; 
 but in the opinion of the majority there was a 
 great gulf between them. The river was gener- 
 ally preferred to the playing-fields. It seemed 
 cooler and more refreshing in the summer, and 
 also gave more exercise. Small distinctions 
 could there be easier obtained, and aquatic heroes 
 were necessarily endowed with that strength of 
 
 * In the 'Eton Bureau,' 1842, we find complaints about 
 the rough way in which football was played, some boys 
 having nails in their shoes.
 
 COLLEGERS. 59 
 
 muscle which was so much esteemed at Eton, 
 while cricketers might be comparatively feeble. 
 
 I am not sure whether the contempt in which 
 collegers were held was not connected with their 
 ' dry-bobbing ' propensities, or whether cricket 
 suffered for being connected with them. At this 
 time they were not allowed to enter the eights on 
 account of the expense. The lower boys called them 
 * tugs,' or ' tug-muttons,' from their gowns (toga), 
 and from the fact that they had been almost up to 
 this time fed entirely on mutton.* But no doubt 
 their original sin was that they came from a lower 
 grade in society, and although none but boys of 
 good ability were chosen, there was not yet any 
 open competition. The older oppidans were 
 above these prejudices, and sometimes were in- 
 vited to go with the collegers to * bever ' — bread 
 and cheese and beer at five o'clock — the only 
 survival I have met with of that very ancient 
 refreshment. 
 
 The rivalry between collegers and oppidans was 
 kept up by the annual matches at cricket and 
 football ; and when snow fell, a furious combat 
 raged, in which both sides were considerably 
 ' beautified.' It may seem strange that seventy 
 boys could face six hundred, but some of the 
 
 * Some despicable wag said this made them 'sheepish.'
 
 6o VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 biggest boys in the school were collegers, as they 
 were not superannuated until they were nineteen. 
 It was always a rule that the captain of the boats 
 should play in the cricket match against the 
 collegers, and great mirth was sometimes caused 
 by the mulls the aquatic hero made on this 
 occasion. 
 
 The rowing-boys formed the majority of the 
 school, and were a distinct community from the 
 cricketers. In the summer the river swarmed 
 with them in all kinds of skiffs, tubs, punts, and 
 ' pair-oars,' and the most skilful were promoted 
 into the ' boats,' properly so called, which con- 
 sisted of six eights and a * ten-oar.' The Victory 
 was regarded with the greatest admiration as 
 containing the choicest ' oars ' in the school, 
 though the stroke of every boat was an excellent 
 rower. The Monarch (ten-oar) was an old 
 sovereign of the river, and the captain of the 
 boats was her stroke, but otherwise her crew were 
 considered an awkward set. Some of them were 
 luxurious or weakly fellows who had gained a 
 slight knowledge of rowing by paddling about, 
 and were selected for their popularity and 
 sociability. A few were swell * dry-bobs ' or 
 superannuated steerers, to whom the captain 
 allowed this dignified retirement. Thirty years
 
 THE BOATS. 6i 
 
 previously we find this crew selected for their 
 beauty, and rov/ing on the Fourth of June, in the 
 costume of Turkish galley-slaves, chained to their 
 oars. The names of the boats changed slightly 
 from time to time : in 1811 they were the Monarch, 
 Dreadnought, Defiance, Rival, Mars, and Mercury. 
 Before 1828 a waterman rowed stroke of every 
 boat. 
 
 Great excitement always prevailed in the summer 
 with regard to the ' eight,' that is, the crew se- 
 lected to try conclusions with Westminster. The 
 series of contests with that school commenced in 
 1829 with one for £100 a side. A regular course 
 of training was always undergone, and the match 
 was the great event of the Eton sporting year. 
 There were races, however, every week in the 
 summer ; the prettiest seemed to me to be the 
 sculling, in which each competitor appeared in his 
 little outrigger dressed in his distinguishing colours. 
 The interest in this race was also more personal 
 than that in one between rival eights. 
 
 The captain of the boats held such an influential 
 position that the headmaster claimed to have a 
 voice in his election. It was my good, or bad, 
 fortune when I first went to Eton to be fag to this 
 awful personage. He wrote a * Vale ' when leaving 
 — such effusions were then not uncommon, and
 
 62 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 were shown up to the masters — in which he gave 
 a good description of his Eton hfe. I can cor- 
 roborate the truth of his statement — 
 
 'The small boys tremble at my nod, 
 And think I am a demi-god.' 
 
 Further on he said with equal veracity, 
 
 ' Farewell then to my studies too, 
 Though I must say my knowing 
 
 Has chiefly been confined unto 
 The principles of rowing.' 
 
 He was a wonderful fellow. Of course he did 
 nothing like anyone else. He never breakfasted 
 at home, and had his fags to valet him at night. 
 What was more unpleasant to us, he seemed 
 never to have any books, and after breakfast 
 would tell us to go and get him — wherever we 
 liked — a book to take into school. As the conse- 
 quences of failing to carry out any of his orders 
 would have been too terrible to contemplate, we 
 had to rush off to the shops and ask to look over 
 any books that had been left there. We then 
 took possession of such a one as was required, 
 and in this manner kept him supplied. When the 
 lesson was over he would go into some shop and 
 leave his book there. How he learned or said his 
 lessons appeared a mystery, but I supposed he was
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE BOATS. 63 
 
 blessed with some kind of sublime intuition. He 
 never seemed to have a punishment ; indeed, to 
 imagine that he could ever have anything of any- 
 kind would have appeared to us sheer profanity. 
 There was something very jocund about him ; he 
 was constantly singing snatches of nigger melodies, 
 of which his favourite seemed to be, 
 
 * De boatman dance, de boatman sing, 
 De boatman he do ebery ting.' 
 
 He had also a vein of humour, but it was slightly 
 too satirical. Sometimes he gave us advice, such 
 as, ' Always think well of yourself, for you may be 
 sure nobody else will.' One day when we brought 
 him a larger dish of sausages than usual, he 
 looked round and said : 
 
 ' Do you like sausages ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' we replied, hoping that he was going 
 to give us some. 
 
 ' Then you may see me eat them,' he returned 
 dryly. 
 
 Sometimes he would amuse himself by throwing 
 things at us. On one occasion when I came into 
 my room, I found him seated there holding the 
 tongs over my dip candle. What project he had 
 formed in his great mind I could not of course 
 conjecture ; but I soon discovered, for he called
 
 64 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA VS. 
 
 me over, and seized my nose with them. It 
 seems that he had a fancy to see what effect a 
 nigger nose would produce on my countenance. 
 But the candle had made the iron hot as well as 
 black. Inside the tongs there happened to be 
 an ornamented flower engraved, and when he 
 released me this was found burnt into the skin on 
 both sides. Although he could not help feeling 
 amused at this result, he was also evidently 
 alarmed, and begged that I would not think it was 
 intentional. My nose now became a subject of 
 general interest, and I began to think that I 
 should go through the world a marked man ; but 
 it was not to be so, and in a short period my 
 flower faded, and I subsided into my original 
 obscurity. 
 
 I waited upon this master for some time. He 
 generally breakfasted with the second captain of 
 the boats, an equally fine fellow, and one whom I 
 liked better, as he was less jocose. They are both 
 long dead — one was killed by poachers.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 An Olden Holiday — The Christopher. 
 
 As a boy rose in the school, his enjoyment of it 
 greatly increased. He had become accustomed 
 to the lessons, and could prepare them without 
 much difficulty ; sometimes he was going over 
 part of his old work. The masters had grown 
 amiable, and treated him more as a companion 
 than as a pupil. He became captain of his house, 
 and had obsequious fags to carry out all his 
 wishes. It was well if, after passing through the 
 purgatory of the lower world, he was not spoiled 
 for after life by the bliss of the upper regions. 
 
 Could anything be more delightful than a 
 summer holiday at Eton in these olden times ? 
 There were two such days, sometimes three, 
 every week. First there was a prolonged slumber 
 in bed, nothing being required until a quarter 
 past nine o'clock. Then you sauntered into the 
 school -yard and answered to your name at 
 
 5
 
 66 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 * absence.' After this you went to breakfast with 
 some friend, or had a party yourself. Then to 
 church at eleven, and after that, at twelve, you 
 went to your boat on the river, or to cricket in 
 the lovely playing-fields. At two o'clock you 
 returned to dinner, and at half-past two betook 
 yourself to a peculiar institution called ' cellar.' 
 
 This ' cellar ' was carried on in a house just 
 over Barnes' Bridge, called the ' tap.' It would 
 have brought a flogging to be seen entering it, but 
 there was no danger, as a quick-eyed, portly person 
 stood outside the door, whose business it was to 
 be always looking up and down the street for 
 masters. As you approached the forbidden 
 establishment you always looked at this man, and 
 if he nodded you knew the coast was clear, and 
 entered without fear. Here the sporting affairs of 
 the school were mainly transacted. When you 
 went into the little back parlour you found notices 
 up of such events as were coming off; lists of 
 boys to run in the races, and papers on which 
 competitors were to inscribe their names. There 
 the prizes to be given were exhibited; it seemed, 
 indeed, more a place of public business than of 
 pleasure. At half past two on holidays ' cellar ' 
 was celebrated here. Having received the neces- 
 sary cue from porter, you went up into a fair-sized
 
 ' cellar: 67 
 
 room on the first floor, where you found a long 
 table laid out, with seats for about twenty. This 
 was a sort of after-dinner entertainment, but was 
 very different from an Oxford 'wine.' 
 
 On the table were Stilton and other cheeses, 
 salads, cucumbers, radishes, watercress, rusks and 
 butter, and other light refreshments. You had 
 your choice of various strong and light ales, and 
 there was capital cider-cup crowned with borage. 
 At the head of the table sat the captain of the 
 boats, and at the foot the captain of the eleven. 
 The boys present were those of the eight and of 
 the eleven (except such as were collegers) ; but, to 
 make up the number, the presidents always in- 
 vited a few others, who were more or less dis- 
 tinguished on the river or in the playing-fields. 
 The gathering was of the pleasantest character : 
 the boys were all 'jolly good fellows;' the fare, 
 though simple, was good of its kind, it seemed 
 most excellent to us, and perhaps our spirits were 
 the higher because we thought that we were in 
 select and friendly company. 
 
 But there was generally one boy at the table 
 who looked uncomfortable. He had been invited 
 for the first time : he spoke little, and drank 
 nothing. The fact was, he had to undergo an 
 ordeal — to drink the long glass. At the end of 
 
 5—2
 
 68 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 the repast, which lasted about half an hour, the 
 waiter appeared with a large cloth and the afore- 
 said curious vessel. It was wide at the mouth, 
 like a vase, and tapered downwards, till at the 
 bottom it ended in a bulb. Although it was three 
 feet long, the glass did not contain three half- 
 pints. The waiter put a chair at the side of 
 the table, and the victim rose and seated him- 
 self. Then the cloth was deftly fastened round 
 his neck, as if he were going to have his hair cut, 
 and he was asked what kind of ale he would 
 prefer. When he had replied, the glass was 
 filled up and handed to him. He was to drink 
 without stopping, and if this rule was not complied 
 with, the glass was to be refilled, and he was to 
 begin again. Some little care was required to 
 drink successfully, owing to the width of the 
 mouth of the glass and the bulb at the bottom, 
 for when the latter was reached the liquor was 
 apt to rush down over the drinker's face. You 
 might sometimes see it rippling out on both sides 
 of the boy's mouth, and meandering down the 
 white cloth, until it finally trickled out at his coat- 
 tails. If the drinking was well accomplished, the 
 performer was cheered at the conclusion by a 
 round of knocking on the table. Then the church 
 bells were heard ringing, the plate came round,
 
 CHURCH MUSIC. 69 
 
 on which each placed two shilHngs, and the com- 
 pany, rising, filed out towards the bridge ; I may 
 add that I never saw any one of them the worse 
 for the entertainment. 
 
 The music at the afternoon service which we 
 then attended was greatly appreciated, and rightly, 
 for at that time the choir from St. George's at 
 Windsor came down to sing for us. Many of the 
 boys joined in the psalms when the chant was 
 easy, and when it was difficult some still would 
 adhere to their favourite tunes, and produce a 
 kind of discordant harmony. But the anthem 
 was listened to by all with great attention, and 
 was a real treat. It tended to form the taste of 
 the boys for classical music ; and after church 
 many would discuss the comparative merits of the 
 choirmen in their performances. 
 
 After service the boating community went back 
 to the river, and the cricketers to the playing- 
 fields. When there was a boat-race in the 
 evening, the boys belonging to the eights would 
 stop on their way home to drink the winners' 
 healths at the Christopher, and then walked down 
 arm-in-arm until they reached the school, where 
 a crowd had collected. They then * hoisted ' the 
 winners on their shoulders, and carried them 
 along with cheers.
 
 70 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 Once a fortnight, on ' check night,' the upper 
 eights ended the day by regahng themselves with 
 ducks and green peas at Surley, which to boyish 
 appetites appeared a banquet worthy of the gods. 
 The cricketers in * upper club ' had their tea 
 beneath umbrageous trees by the water-side, 
 much to the annoyance of their fags, who waited 
 upon them, and saw nothing romantic in the 
 ' Poets' Walk.' The ordinary refreshments there 
 consisted of merely tea and bread and butter, but 
 ices were sometimes added, and occasionally an 
 old Eton man, who was joining in the game, 
 would stand a little champagne. The boys who 
 thus showed their appreciation of poetical resorts 
 were excused attendance at six o'clock absence. 
 This kind of indulgence to the cricketers was 
 almost traditional. 
 
 When the light began to fade, towards nine, 
 the houses were locked up, and we began to 
 prepare our seventy lines for the next morning. 
 But a prudent boy would have taken a book or 
 sheet of paper with him, and have done a little 
 work at intervals in the daytime. 
 
 The Christopher Hotel was within bounds 
 when I first went to Eton, and stood near Barnes 
 Bridge. It was a famous old house, too con- 
 venient for the boys and a great annoyance to the
 
 THE CHRISTOPHER. 71 
 
 masters. But the landlord could not be dispos- 
 sessed, having a Crown lease. Towards the end 
 of George III.'s reign, and till its disestablish- 
 ment, it was held by the celebrated Garraway, 
 who drove a thriving business. To add to his 
 wickedness and increase his profits, he obtained 
 the services of a fascinating barmaid, and as a 
 consequence, a number of the upper boys, who 
 had scarcely any other woman to speak to, were 
 constantly lounging about the bar. Here they 
 sipped their ale or brandy and water, and laughed 
 and chaffed with Pipylena — a name they gave her 
 on account of a pimple on her cheek. She seems, 
 notwithstanding her smiles, to have been a correct 
 young lady, for an old boy tells us that, although 
 he once managed to snatch a kiss from her, he 
 did not escape receiving a good box on the ear for 
 his impertinence. 
 
 Some of the richer boys were accustomed to 
 frequent the Christopher on holidays and drink 
 ' bishop,' for which, and for broiled chicken and 
 mushrooms, the house was noted. Many a good 
 dinner the boys had there when their relatives 
 came to visit them. It was the house where all the 
 coaches stopped, and before Hawtrey abolished 
 the Eton Market, there was here a weekly 
 ordinary for farmers, and occasionally a hunt
 
 72 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 dinner, with noise enough to have driven the 
 Muses back to Greece. Nevertheless, the boys 
 frequented the house with foho Virgils under 
 their arms, containing, not immortal verse, but 
 bottles to be replenished from this inspiring 
 Hippocrene.* 
 
 The festive estabhshment moved in 1845 into 
 the centre of the High Street at Eton, where 
 dreadful school crimes continued to be committed, 
 but they were offences which would have been 
 little noticed in later life. 
 
 Objections might perhaps have been taken to 
 the indulgence in drinks with such plebeian names 
 as sherry-cobbler and its counterpart port-snob, 
 but who could say that in winter old-fashioned 
 ' bishops ' should be treated with disrespect ? The 
 boys duly honoured the classic Bacchus with such 
 libations, and accompanied them with the incense 
 of the fragrant weed. There was an interval of 
 an hour, from four to five, between two lessons, 
 which, being too short for games, seemed to have 
 been specially set apart for such observances. I 
 never saw any intoxication during this time ; 
 indeed, it would have been discovered, as we had 
 to return immediately to school lessons. 
 
 * It appears that at one time the assistant-masters were 
 accustomed to meet in a room there.
 
 THE CHRISTOPHER. 73 
 
 The service of the Christopher was partly per- 
 formed by the landlord's daughters, two ladylike 
 girls, who appeared to us the more divine from 
 their contrast with the waiter, a most dingy and 
 diabolical-looking personage, who went by the 
 name of ' Smut ' or ' Beelzebub.' The boys 
 made a butt of him, but he sometimes turned the 
 tables in more senses than one. I remember on 
 one occasion, when in a fit of extravagance we 
 ordered a second bowl of bishop, and he brought 
 up a smaller quantity than we had before, I 
 said : 
 
 ' Why, Smut, this is not so large a bowl as the 
 last.' 
 
 To which he replied : 
 
 * Same bowl I took down, sir.' 
 
 On holiday mornings there were generally some 
 parties of boys at breakfast in the Christopher. A 
 convivial meeting also took place there annually 
 after the great football match between collegers 
 and oppidans. At one of these festivals when I 
 was at Eton a raid was made upon the house 
 by the masters. It afterwards transpired that 
 this dark conspiracy had been hatched by the 
 authorities a few days before. My good-natured 
 tutor was invited to join in the expedition, but 
 rephed with characteristic frankness :
 
 74 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 * No ; as long as I can keep myself a gentleman, 
 I'll never consent to be a constable.' 
 
 When the revelry was at its height, Smut came 
 in with a darker face than usual, bringing the 
 alarming intelligence that several masters were 
 coming down the street. The company were 
 thrown into confusion similar to that which the 
 mice felt when the cat and kittens ' came tumbling 
 in.' Some prepared to escape by the back door ; 
 but before this could be attempted it was found 
 that another detachment of masters had comxe 
 round in that direction. Presently an ominous 
 creaking of boots was heard up the staircase. 
 The landlord's daughter turned off the gas, and 
 all was left in darkness. A stentorian voice was 
 heard crying, ' I require the landlord of this house 
 to provide me with a light.' Meanwhile, one of 
 the masters groped his way to the door of the 
 banqueting-room, and held it so that no one could 
 pass. The future headmaster, Dr. Goodford, now 
 distinguished himself greatly by embracing Smut, 
 whom in the darkness he mistook to be a boy 
 trying to make his escape, till he was rudely un- 
 deceived by a gruff voice grunting out, ' Come, 
 none of this nonsense !' 
 
 A light was at length procured, and as the boys 
 filed out one by one their names were entered in
 
 ' pop: 75 
 
 a ' black list.' It must have grieved the souls of 
 the tutors to find among them a few of their 
 choicest scholars. The authorities considered 
 that these old customs should be honoured in the 
 breach, but as the boys were big, and the butcher's 
 bill would have been long, they were only kept 
 back two or three days from the vacation. 
 
 When the former Christopher Hotel was shut 
 up, part of the building was put to a more quiet 
 use by the Eton Debating Society. This associa- 
 tion was commonly called ' Pop,' from 'popina,' an 
 eating-house. Its original domicile was over the 
 small shop of Mrs. Hatton, the confectioner, and 
 we find that its literary objects did not overcome 
 the boyish love of ' sock,' for at the Saturday four 
 o'clock meetings the proceedings were somewhat 
 delayed by the consumption of ices and cakes and 
 the drinking of cherry brandy. There was also a 
 sociable breakfast once a week, but this was soon 
 abandoned. The original object of the society 
 was to encourage the study of history by means of 
 debates, and, to maintain harmony, all religious 
 subjects and questions relating to contemporary 
 politics were forbidden. 
 
 There was little card-playing when I was at Eton. 
 The old clergyman who was called our 'dame,' 
 not inappropriately, seemed to have a sort of
 
 76 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 spiritual intimation when anything improper was 
 attempted. I remember our once having become 
 possessed, by some good fortune as we thought, 
 of a pack of cards. ' We made everything snug, 
 and a rubber was commenced; but we had scarcely 
 played two hands when ominous sounds were heard 
 on the stairs. We thrust our cards under us. 
 Our ' dame ' opened the door, looked round the 
 room, asked us anxiously about our health, and 
 made some irrelevant remarks about the weather. 
 Then he finally observed : 
 
 ' You are sitting in a very formal manner round 
 the table.' 
 
 The charge was true, for although we had 
 hidden the cards we had not had time or presence 
 of mind to move our chairs. We gazed at each 
 other's position with apparent surprise. 
 
 'Well,' he continued, 'I cannot leave you 
 sitting in this manner. Hart, go to your room.' 
 
 Poor Hart rose, looking as red as a cherry-, and 
 on his chair his spotted crime was revealed. The 
 dame's brow darkened ; he took the cards and 
 held them up in damnatory witness before our 
 faces, but at length relieved our feelings by kindly 
 saying : 
 
 ' Come, give up the cards, and I will not com- 
 plain of you.'
 
 CORRECTION. 77 
 
 Card-playing was a capital offence, which could 
 only be wiped out with the birch. I may here 
 observe that Dr. Hawtrey was accustomed in his 
 executions to alternate strokes with strictures 
 upon the offence committed. Why he should 
 thus intensify the punishment did not clearly 
 appear. My belief is that he thought that whole- 
 some advice, which could not be knocked into 
 the heads of the unruly, might be made im- 
 pressive and driven in by the rod. Sometimes 
 his remarks were spiced with humour, which 
 seemed to the sufferer peculiarly ill-timed. 
 
 On one occasion, when a little fellow was being 
 punished for playing cards, as the Doctor was 
 'letting it in' pretty tightly, the victim was 
 wriggling and twisting about to avoid the birch, 
 and Hawtrey proceeded with his work as follows : 
 
 'Play whist, will you?' (swish). 'Odd tricks, 
 indeed !' (swish). ' Oh yes — all right — you shuffle, 
 and I'll cut ' (swish).
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 'Shirking' — Festivals— Tone of the School — The Eton 
 Magazines. 
 
 Inconsistency was the queen of Eton in my 
 day. The administration of the laws was upon 
 the Irish system. Many things were forbidden, 
 but all were practically allowed, except such 
 heinous offences as card-playing and stone-throw- 
 ing. The authorities wished to show a strict 
 code, and to point out what acts were objection- 
 able, but did not wish that the boys should 
 regard the school as a place of punishment. 
 Thus, though the ' tap ' and Christopher were 
 forbidden, they were constantly frequented without 
 any unpleasant result, and the majority passed 
 through Eton without feeling the rod, though 
 sometimes a boy suffered for some small uninten- 
 tional offence. In this Eton resembled the great 
 world. 
 
 "Windsor Fair was forbidden to us, but was
 
 'SHIRKING: 79 
 
 always largely attended by the boys, who played 
 there hide-and-seek with the masters. ' Cribs ' 
 (that is, translations) were against the rules, but 
 everyone had them, and the lessons were so long 
 that their use must have been presupposed. 
 There were boys who asserted that some masters 
 themselves used them ; but this seemed im- 
 probable. 
 
 Breaking bounds is a time-honoured custom at 
 all schools. At Eton the bounds were narrow, 
 and, although boating was allowed, it was a trans- 
 gression to go to the river. On the same prin- 
 ciple, although upon the Terrace at Windsor you 
 might take off your hat to a master, woe betided 
 3'ou if he caught you on the road going there or re- 
 turning. But he inflicted no punishment for being 
 out of bounds unless the delinquent came within 
 his grasp, even though he knew his name. Hence 
 arose the strange system of ' shirking.' If a 
 master was seen approaching — and he could 
 generally be recognised at a distance by the 
 radiance of his white tie — the boys disappeared 
 right and left over hedges and ditches, into shops, 
 or anywhere. Sometimes a young master who 
 was disengaged, and in a sporting mood, would 
 give chase across country, or pull an offender 
 from under a counter ; but this only occurred
 
 8o VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA VS. 
 
 when some lack of Spartan activity had been 
 shown. 
 
 I was only once in danger of being caught. As 
 I was walking in the High Street of Windsor I 
 espied one of the masters approaching. He was 
 a particularly severe man, and was believed to 
 walk about with an umbrella over his head for the 
 purpose of ' naihng' incautious wanderers. Imme- 
 diately on seeing him I turned and took refuge in 
 a neighbouring bootmaker's, for the tradespeople 
 all know that the system exists, and afford a 
 retreat to fugitives. As ill-luck would have it, Mrs. 
 Carter was in that very shop trying on a pair of 
 boots, and I saw a complacent smile playing on 
 Mr. Carter's countenance, which I thought by no 
 means indicative of good intentions. It was too 
 late to rush out, for he was close upon me before 
 I saw him. On looking round for concealment I 
 observed at the end of the shop one of those large 
 boot and shoe stands, or trophies, which we some- 
 times see in such places, and I crept behind it. 
 Mrs. Carter looked up from her little boots with 
 some surprise, and in another minute the master 
 entered and made straight for the trophy behind 
 which I was concealed. As he approached the 
 right side of it I edged round to the left, and when 
 he was fairly behind it I bolted out of the door.
 
 MONTE M. 8 1 
 
 nearly upsetting Mrs. Carter, boots and all, and I 
 did not look behind me until I was half-way over 
 Windsor Bridge. 
 
 I do not think that the boys considered shirk- 
 ing a hardship — they rather liked the excitement. 
 There was something comic about it, and it 
 seldom degenerated into the tragic. 
 
 In the days about which I write, the chief road 
 to Ascot lay through Eton, and during the races 
 the little boys found great amusement in sitting 
 along the school wall watching the stream of carts 
 and coaches and carriages, and making play with 
 pea-shooters. Sometimes a man who had been 
 hard hit would rein up and come down among us 
 to retaliate, and then a scrimmage would ensue. 
 I remember that once my tutor caught several of 
 his little pupils hotly engaged in this sport at 
 Ascot time, and in threatening them made some 
 characteristic remarks about their ' asinine ' pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 It has always been a regret to me that I never was 
 present at the cdebration of Montem. Everyone 
 has heard of this old historic observance, when 
 the captain of the school, the marshal, and the 
 ensign with his splendid flag marched with the 
 boys in regimental and other costumes to Salt 
 Hill. In George III.'s time the King and some 
 
 6
 
 82 VERT DE VERrS ETON DA YS. 
 
 of the royal family attended, and the road through- 
 out its length was crowded with spectators. In the 
 evening the boys went to the Terrace at Windsor, 
 where the King again appeared and spoke to 
 many of them. But this belongs to the past. 
 
 Just before I went to Eton the iron horse made 
 its appearance near the ' antique towers,' and 
 brought down such a heterogeneous mob that the 
 authorities determined to abolish the festival 
 altogether. Some objection was also felt to the 
 mendicant collection of ' salt,' which certainly in 
 latter days was different from that Attic salt which 
 a learned Provost thought was originally intended. 
 Some of the boys, called ' runners,' attired in silk, 
 went many miles away along the high-roads in 
 search of it, and sometimes as much as eight 
 hundred pounds was collected. It was intended 
 to assist the captain of the school in his university 
 course ; but, though the second captain always 
 received a sum, about ;^I20, the expenses were 
 considerable, and it had become the custom for 
 the captain of the school to expend his part of 
 the money in entertaining his schoolfellows. All 
 these changes were adverse to the observance, but 
 still the loss of Montem, with its gay costumes 
 and quaint observances, seemed another breach of 
 ancestral customs, another flower snatched from
 
 MONTEM. 83 
 
 the garland of ' merrie England.' Montem is 
 supposed to have been coeval with the foundation 
 of the school, and in the early part of the 
 eighteenth century the dresses worn at it were 
 extravagantly magnificent. The school must have 
 presented a gay appearance in Montem years, for 
 the boys wore their bright attire till the end of 
 the summer term. 
 
 In the second year of my Eton life this triennial 
 festival was for the first time omitted. There 
 was a discontented feeling in the school. Those 
 who had not seen Montem imagined they had a 
 great loss ; those who had witnessed it missed the 
 amusement. 
 
 There was a hostile feeling towards those in 
 authority, and some talked of a rebellion. How- 
 ever, when the day came (Whit Tuesday) the boys 
 contented themselves with assembling and march- 
 ing in doleful procession with a black flag to Salt 
 Hill, where they buried old Montem with suitable 
 and melancholy rites. 
 
 Two festivals still remained — the Fourth of 
 June and Election Saturday. They were both 
 regattas, and similar to each other. The latter 
 was held on the last Saturday in the summer 
 school-time, and was abolished some twenty years 
 since. Before 1747 the day was celebrated by the 
 
 6—2
 
 84 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 boys hunting a ram ; but this stranj^e sport was 
 discontinued owing to one of the pursued animals 
 having crossed the river and caused havoc in 
 Windsor market. For a long time a kind of Feast 
 of Tabernacles was celebrated on this day by the 
 collegers. Wagon-loads of beech branches were 
 brought in and used to decorate the Long 
 Chamber, the beds were covered with green rugs 
 marked with the college arms, and the captain's 
 bed at the end was adorned with a flag. The 
 numerous visitors were much pleased with the 
 leafy vista thus formed. 
 
 The Fourth of June is kept in perpetual memory 
 of George III. He was a great patron of Eton, 
 and was frequently at the school. He often passed 
 through in the winter, and when the boys saw the 
 hounds and the green cart with the stag, they 
 knew the King would soon follow, and collected 
 along ' Long Walk ' wall. When he appeared, 
 they raised a cheer, and he always stopped and 
 spoke to some of them, usually to the sons of 
 noblemen whom he knew. He would have some 
 fun with them, asking them when they were 
 flogged last, and ending by saying if they were 
 good he would get them a holiday. Occasionally, 
 when he had entertainments at the Castle (usually 
 German plays), he would send for the upper boys
 
 THE FOURTH OF JUNE. 85 
 
 by fifties to see them, and he used to call them hh 
 boys, and did his best to speak to them all. On 
 the celebration of his jubilee, fifty boys received 
 invitations, and were mustered in the Queen's 
 Lodge at Frogmore by the captain of the school. 
 They then marched to the Castle, finding it diffi- 
 cult to make their way through the crowded 
 streets of Windsor. One of them records the 
 event, and speaks of the music, the magnificent 
 tents, and the countless lamps suspended in the 
 trees and reflected in the lakes. Bullocks were 
 roasted whole on Bachelor's Acre in Windsor 
 with strings of sheep round them, ' like sausages 
 round a turkey.' [In 1814, when the Emperor of 
 Russia, the King of Prussia, and Blucher went to 
 Frogmore, the Queen invited the Eton boys. Old 
 Blucher was very gracious, and kissed many of 
 them.] 
 
 To turn to my own days. Some time previous 
 to every Fourth of June all the lower boys, and 
 many others, became unusually civil to those in 
 the ' boats,' and began to calculate their chances 
 of favour with that august body. When the day 
 arrived, Eton seemed completely metamorphosed; 
 no work, no play was going forward ; the boys 
 were lounging about the school wall in holiday 
 attire, conversing with relations, and speculating
 
 86 VERT DE VERTS ETON DA YS. 
 
 upon ' tips.' Some, who had rich and hberal 
 friends, made a good harvest ; others received 
 Httle or nothing. I remember hearing of one to 
 whom a miserly uncle offered a five-shilling piece. 
 The boy looked at it superciliously, and then 
 said : 
 
 ' We don't take silver here.' 
 
 * Then,' returned the old monster, ' of course 
 you don't take gold,' and pocketed the affront. 
 
 The day wore the dissipated aspect of a fete time, 
 there were no speeches, I believe, and all thoughts 
 were directed towards the evening. At length it 
 arrived, and a vast concourse collected on Windsor 
 Bridge and in the vicinity of the river to see the 
 boats start. Every eight had its own uniform, 
 and the little steerers with their swords, cocked 
 hats, and large bouquets, presented a pretty and 
 fantastical appearance. As a contrast to the gay 
 costume of the crew, there sat in every boat a 
 demure gentleman in black, who seemed singularly 
 out of place, and was called the sitter. In 
 cautious, old-fashioned times, this term was 
 applied to a well-balanced individual, who sat in 
 the centre of the boat to keep it steady ; now it 
 referred to a person in the stern, who, to judge 
 from the large hamper of champagne in front of 
 him, v»as more likely to make it unsteady. He,
 
 THE FOURTH OF JUNE. 87 
 
 or at least his gift, could by no means be left 
 behind, but since the boats have become narrower, 
 these gentlemen have been obliged to travel in 
 a less dignified manner. 
 
 Bands on the river strike up ' See the conquering 
 hero comes,' or some such inspiring air, and the 
 crowd on land and water move off together in the 
 direction of ' Old Surley.' There supper is found 
 laid out al fresco on seven tables for the crews of 
 the boats, while the sixth form and a few mag- 
 nates are accommodated in a tent. The crews 
 debark, and, marching up with conscious dignity, 
 take their seats in state, surrounded by all the 
 rest of the school and numerous visitors. About 
 seventy boys were thus provided for, and the rest 
 had either the privilege of standing quietly by to 
 see the others eat, or of endeavouring to obtain a 
 share by favour or importunity,* The latter 
 alternative was generally adopted, and the crowd 
 of little mendicants clustered like bees round the 
 chairs of their more fortunate friends, who sat 
 like princes distributing their bounty. The 
 characters of the boys contrasted strangely on this 
 occasion. Some were selfish and reserved, and 
 
 * There were no tables laid for the fifth form at this time. 
 The steerers in the earlier part of the century wore fancy 
 dresses, and not naval uniforms.
 
 88 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 would scarcely distribute anything ; others were 
 absurdly generous, and gave away all their supper ; 
 and equally among the applicants, some had many 
 friends, and were invariably seen with a glass of 
 wine in one hand and a chicken-bone in the other, 
 while others seemed to have no interest whatever, 
 and were endeavouring by longing looks to move 
 the compassion of boys to whom they were en- 
 tire strangers. 
 
 The loyal and local toasts were at length drunk, 
 and the crews, rising, resought their boats and 
 returned to Eton, where they kept rowing up and 
 down by the bridge while a splendid display of 
 fireworks took place on Piper's eyot. Here, after 
 rockets and jets innumerable, the last and most 
 magnificent piece was lighted, and the time- 
 honoured motto ' Floreat Etona ' shone forth, 
 kindling a general response — the band played up 
 ' God save the Queen,' and the Fourth of June 
 was over. 
 
 The boys now made their way back to ' lock 
 up.' I am sorry to say that in my time a few of 
 them were unable without assistance to find the 
 entrances to their tutors' houses. The rest con- 
 sidered this incapacity somewhat creditable, if not 
 enviable, for had they not been popular they could 
 not have obtained so much champagne. The
 
 FESTIVALS. 89 
 
 head master, however, took a different view, and 
 was pretty busy with his brush next morning. 
 
 The arrangements for these two festivals were 
 made by the captain of the oppidans, who, 
 although assisted by a school rate, was generally 
 considerably out of pocket by them. 
 
 Another festival — of a much more private 
 character, and limited to certain ' swells ' — was 
 Oppidan Dinner. It was held in the summer at 
 the White Hart in Windsor, and as it could not 
 be continued late, the Roman custom of beginning 
 early was adopted. 
 
 At this, also, some of the banqueters became 
 confused in their reckonings, and I heard of one 
 of them having been overturned by a flock of 
 sheep which he unfortunately met on his way 
 home. But this belongs to the past, ' consule 
 Bibulo.' The last Oppidan Dinner took place in 
 1859. 
 
 'Chaff' seems indigenous to the soil of Eton. 
 ' Mirth and youthful jollity ' trip there hand in 
 hand, and although sport may sometimes be in- 
 dulged in at another's expense, there are few who 
 do not look back upon their Eton days as among 
 the happiest in their existence. How many sweet 
 summer days have we spent upon the silver 
 Thames ! On how many fine evenings have we
 
 90 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 collected cockchafers to buzz in Waxy's room! 
 Sometimes I have gone to a window to answer a 
 question, and received as my reward the contents 
 of a jug which drenched me from head to foot. . 
 Yet, with all this, we enjoyed — 
 
 ' The thoughtless day, the easy night, 
 The spirits free, the slumbers light,' 
 
 and might truly have been said to feel — 
 ' No chill except long morning.' 
 
 Practical joking was mostly confined to the 
 lower boys, the ' swells ' preferring more amiable 
 sport, and showing some ingenuity in various forms 
 of ' chaff.' 
 
 But beside the wild luxuriance of humour grew 
 a fairer and more graceful plant. The atmosphere 
 of Eton was redolent with the sweet scents of 
 poetry. Not only were its little inhabitants, as I 
 have before observed, employed in soliciting the 
 Muses ; not only was the great Spankie a poet, 
 but there was a real priest of Calliope, a man of 
 haggard and moon-struck aspect, who dressed 
 himself in many-coloured robes on state occasions, 
 and distributed his effusions to the admiring 
 throng. His flights were not, I am sorry to say, 
 of the highest kind, although he was the last of
 
 ETIQUETTE. 91 
 
 the bards who sang the glories of Montem, with 
 its dresses, and swords, and ' ravages ' 
 
 'Among the unoffending cabbages.'* 
 But the surrounding scenery was almost sufficient 
 to inspire the soul even of this pantaloon, without 
 the addition of the historical associations. He 
 was, I suppose, a successor of the great Stockhore, 
 who used to go in fantastical costume to Montem 
 in a donkey-cart. 
 
 And in keeping with all this beauty, I may 
 observe that, notwithstanding the peccadilloes of 
 which I have spoken, there was a better tone at 
 Eton than in most schools. Scott makes a high- 
 wayman lament that, ' though he can swear as 
 round an oath as any man, he can never do it like 
 a gentleman,' and I think that of the raciness 
 which seems indigenous in the generality of boys, 
 that at Eton had a mild and improved flavour. 
 Side by side with it, a certain amount of etiquette 
 existed. On returning to school there was a 
 general handshaking among friends, and even 
 acquaintances, and when you passed a boy in the 
 evening a polite ' good-night ' was exchanged. If 
 a boy accidentally touched your jacket in going to 
 
 * At Montem some of the boys also amused themselves 
 with cutting the flowers and palings of the Salt Hill Hotel, 
 for which the captain of the school had to pay handsomely.
 
 92 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 his place in school or church, he courteously 
 ' begged your pardon,' although you might have 
 just kicked each other in the yard outside. And 
 boys who remained long at Eton could scarcely 
 avoid being imbued with the feeling that a gentle- 
 man must not be guilty of any petty meanness 
 towards those in poorer circumstances. 
 
 Neatness in attire is not common among boys, 
 but at Eton many aspired to be exquisites. There 
 was a stringent rule that a certain decorous 
 uniformity should be observed in dress — no 
 lounging or shooting-coats were allowed, no straw 
 hats or caps. No ; the smaller boys wore jackets 
 and black slip-knot handkerchiefs, the bigger ones 
 swallow-tailed dress-coats and spotless white ties, 
 which made them look like juvenile candidates for 
 clerical preferment. The latter wore no collars ; 
 the tie, which was a stiff ' neckcloth,' was about a 
 yard long, and went twice round. Just as I was 
 leaving Eton, one of the master's sons started a 
 single tie and collar, but this innovation was re- 
 garded with disfavour as much too free-and-easy. 
 The masters kept a sharp eye upon the boys' tails. 
 I remember a luxurious fellow being called to 
 account because he was attempting something 
 like a 'morning' coat. His tutor told him that 
 he must not ' dress himself like a barsreman.' No
 
 HATS. 93 
 
 objection, however, was made to an indulgence in 
 studs, bunches of charms, and other jewellery ; 
 and many decorated their coats with summer 
 flowers, in the arrangement of which they showed 
 some taste. ' Eton bucks,' says the old proverb ; 
 and certainly in my time they deserved the com- 
 pliment, and few knew better how to lay the rose 
 or geranium blossom on its leaf. 
 
 On the anniversary of the Restoration — the old 
 Church service for which was then used— there 
 was not one boy who did not sport the oak-apple. 
 But the crown of all was the ' pot ' hat, and the 
 Eton boy took an incredible amount of pride in 
 that finish of his attire. Though worn and faded, 
 he still cherished and protected it, but when new 
 and radiant, his devotion was unbounded. The 
 Oxford swell might exclaim, ' Take my life, but 
 spare my collars !' the Eton boy would have sub- 
 stituted ' but spare my tile,' and it was always 
 considered a mark of the lowest degradation when 
 anyone could stand tamely by and see his hat ill- 
 used. Hence we can understand what occurred 
 at this time at Windsor, when some Eton boys 
 went up to play with the Princes. Knowing their 
 sensitiveness on this point, and actuated by some 
 youthful malice, the Prince of Wales surreptitiously 
 obtained one of their hats and played football with
 
 94 VERT DE VERTS ETON DAYS. 
 
 it along the terrace, which so incensed the owner 
 that he forgot his loyalty, pursued the Prince, and 
 gave him a little summary punishment. 
 
 A few of the young noblemen were occasionally 
 invited to visit the Princes, and those who had 
 visions of a spread of delicacies were sadly disap- 
 pointed when they were set down to wholesome 
 beef and mutton. The Queen always took a great 
 interest in the school which stood so near the 
 Castle, and sometimes sent for the boys to see 
 exhibitions. I remember her attending speeches, 
 and all the school considered it a compliment 
 when she invited Dr. Hawtrey to tea. Whenever 
 she passed through Eton she was loudly cheered 
 by its little inhabitants, and would check the 
 speed of her carriages out of consideration for 
 those who ran beside her to the Park gates. 
 
 From the sketch I have given of Eton it may 
 be supposed that there was not much study 
 carried on there. But those willing to learn had a 
 great advantage in the good tuition, large library, 
 and the opportunities offered for trying their mettle 
 by competition. The compulsory learning by rote 
 was also of great value, and considerably improved 
 the memory. Eton was then self-contained and 
 untouched by any Royal Commission or 'governing 
 body,' and although all the fellows and masters
 
 STUDIES. 95 
 
 had been (with scarcely an exception) collegers, 
 most of them were distinguished classical scholars, 
 and the King's men were celebrated for winning 
 prizes at Cambridge. But at this time there were 
 no competitive examinations for the various pro- 
 fessions, and, moreover, Eton was generally con- 
 sidered, both by masters and boys, to be a school 
 for the upper classes, where a few years were to be 
 passed agreeably in good society and in obtaining 
 such an education as was necessary for a gentle- 
 man. Physical exercise was thought of great im- 
 portance, and many preferred boating or cricketing 
 to reading. They had neither abilities nor desire 
 to shine as classical scholars, and did not see why 
 they should make their school life miserable. 
 Notwithstanding the tutors' lectures, they felt that 
 it was of little consequence to them how many 
 theories were held about the corrupt passages in 
 ^schylus, or what were the ancient names of the 
 rivers in Asia Minor. They had no curiosity on 
 these subjects, and most of them were correct in 
 thinking that, however much they worked, they 
 would never obtain their livelihood by their 
 classical knowledge. Afterwards some of them, 
 having eaten their cake, grew discontented, 
 imagined they might have become celebrated, and 
 blamed the school-system for their obscurity, just
 
 96 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 as men who are brought to book for disorderly 
 conduct generally set down their offences to the 
 account of Bacchus. They did not consider their 
 own want of self-control and love of amusement, 
 w'hich no school discipline could have overcome. 
 
 There were a few, very few, v/ho, like the 
 present head master, shone both in sport and 
 study, and some of the most successful men at 
 the Universities, not only in the eights and 
 elevens, but also in the examinations, always hail 
 from Eton. But whether a bo}^ succeeded or not 
 in becoming distinguished, he did not fail to obtain 
 some advantage. A man who has been educated 
 in private or at a small school, as girls are, is like 
 an isolated individual with comparatively narrow 
 views and experience, and little grasp of the 
 world; but one from a public school, and especially 
 from Eton, is like a member of a great common- 
 wealth — his prejudices have been corrected, his 
 angles more or less rubbed off, and he has a large 
 connection of friends and acquaintances through- 
 out the country, some of whom he meets from 
 time to time, and who are ever ready to give him 
 the right hand of fellowship. 
 
 The boys at Eton had few books but those 
 required for lessons. It is mentioned as an ex- 
 traordinary fact, in 1832, that one had a library
 
 LEA VI NG BOOKS. 97 
 
 of several hundred volumes. But a popular boy- 
 left in my days with a nice little library of well- 
 bound * leaving books.' Towards the end of each 
 school-time there was some rivalry and excitement 
 about these collections. Mr. Williams' (the book- 
 seller's) shop was resplendent on these occasions, 
 the books being all handsomely bound and mostly 
 gilt, and varying in price from a guinea upwards. 
 But soon after I left, the gifts became absurdly 
 numerous and the custom was abolished altogether. 
 This change was made on the score of economy ; 
 but I believe some educational charges were in- 
 creased so as to leave the expenses at their 
 normal level. It might have been better to have 
 limited the price of the books, for these gifts 
 were productive of kindly feelings. The receiver 
 always shook hands with the donor and requested 
 him to write his name in the book, and the collec- 
 tion formed a pleasant remembrance of Eton in 
 after years, and a memorial of friendship with 
 school-fellows, some of whom we were destined 
 never to meet again. 
 
 There was a magazine started in my days at 
 Eton — of course there was. Such a periodical had 
 existed, spasmodically, for over half a century, and 
 was mostly remarkably for its chameleon character. 
 Each venture lasted for a year, more or less ; and 
 
 7
 
 98 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 shortly after it collapsed another appeared with 
 a new name.* Sometimes two were rivals. The 
 idea was taken from the Spectator and Rambler, but 
 the inferior experience of the writers was shown 
 in the width of the subjects and the pomposity of 
 the treatment. The first, the Microcosm, published 
 at Windsor, 1786, was edited by Canning when in 
 the sixth form, assisted by 'Bobus' Smith and 
 Hookham Frere. The next, the Miniature, was 
 under the direction of Stratford Canning (Lord 
 Stratford de Redcliffe), with the learned pseudo- 
 nym of ' Solomon Grildrig.' Successively, the 
 well-known John Moultrie appears as an editor, 
 and Praed started the Etonian, one of the most 
 successful of these magazines, supported by Moul- 
 trie, H. N. Coleridge, and Mr. Beales, after- 
 wards the hero of Hyde Park. The 1832 maga- 
 zine has a melancholy interest, inasmuch as the 
 Hon. G. W. Lyttleton (the late peer, who ended 
 so sadly) contributed to it, among other articles, 
 an excellent account of his Eton life. 
 
 * The magazines were the Microcos7n (1786), the Mi?iiai}n-e 
 (1804), the Linger (edited by G. B. Maturin and W. G. 
 Cookesley, for collegers onlj', 181 8), the College Magazine 
 (John Moultrie, 1818), the Etonian (Praed, 1820), the Salt 
 Bearer (1820), the Eto7t Miscellany (1827), the Oppidan 
 (1828), the Eton College Magazine (1832), the Kaleidoscope 
 (1833), the Eto7i Bureau (1842), the Eton School Magazine 
 (1848), the Porticits Etonensis (1859). the Eton Observer 
 (i860), the Pha'?iix{i^^i), and the Eton CJiroiiicle (1863).
 
 MAGAZINES. 99 
 
 But the Miscellany, which in 1827 preceded 
 the last-mentioned, became the most celebrated 
 production, inasmuch as it was edited by Mr. 
 Gladstone, under the name of Bartholomew 
 Bouverie. It contained good articles and poems 
 by Sir Francis Doyle and Arthur Hallam (immor- 
 talized by 'In Memoriam ' ), and George (after- 
 words Bishop) Selwyn, who showed something of 
 his family talent in his amusing contributions on 
 ' The Dull Club,' ' The Doctor,' and 'The Mush- 
 room Gentleman.' It seems strange to find, by a 
 fanciful and somewhat premature epitaph which 
 Mr. Gladstone here wrote upon himself, that he 
 considered his success to be chiefly that of a wit 
 and humourist. The fact was that, as there were 
 then no examinations after the fifth form was 
 reached, nor any distinction attainable except 
 that of being sent up for good,* the boys who 
 sought fame had to advance in a different direc- 
 tion, Mr. Gladstone was already ambitious and 
 political. The length to which he was ready to 
 proceed in a wild pursuit of liberty may be 
 gathered from his ' Ode to the Shade of Wat 
 Tyler,' in whose shade he rejoices so much that 
 he is led to eulogize Ings, who plotted to assassi- 
 
 * The reward for which was 20s., and every third time a 
 book. The Newcastle was not lounded until 1829. 
 
 7—2.
 
 loo VERT DE VERT'S ETON DA YS. 
 
 nate his friend Canning. The poem is full of 
 spirit and mischief — the following last verse being 
 a fair specimen of the whole : 
 
 ' Still, mid the cotton and the flax, 
 Warm let the glow of freedom wax ; 
 Still, mid the shuttles and the steam, 
 Bright let the flame of freedom gleam ; 
 So men of taxes, men of law, 
 
 In alley close and murky lane, 
 Shall find a Tyler and a Straw, 
 
 To cleave the despot's slaves in twain.' 
 
 When we find Mr. Gladstone praising as ' men 
 of taxes, men of law,' two scoundrels who stirred 
 up the populace not to pay the king's tax, and to 
 commit murder and robbery, we are led to com- 
 pare the views of his youth with those of his old 
 age. 
 
 It is remarkable that this magazine, under Mr. 
 Gladstone's directions, contains nothing about 
 Eton. As in the Microcosm and Miniature, the 
 writers' minds were all turned to the outer world ; 
 either they were not in touch with the school, or 
 considered it unworthy of notice. Mr. Glad- 
 stone and the majority of the contributors did not 
 enter into the games and amusements. The later 
 magazines showed more sympathy with the place 
 where they were published, which was farther 
 evinced by the Eton Chronicle, started in 1863.
 
 ILLUSIONS. loi 
 
 It is a remarkable coincidence that Mr. Glad- 
 stone lived, when at Eton, at the house of Dame 
 Shurey, opposite the Christopher, where Lord R. 
 Cecil (Lord Salisbury) afterwards was, when it 
 belonged to the Rev. W. G. Cookesley. 
 
 There were some boys at the school who seemed 
 to be at Eton but not of Eton. They were 
 always thinking about the holidays and their 
 homes, often connected with recollections of hunt- 
 ing and shooting. We read of a boy who 
 disliked the school or loved liberty so much, that 
 he rejoiced to hear he was to have, twice in the 
 term, two da}s' holiday, at the cost of having a 
 tooth extracted on each occasion. But few 
 escaped imbibing somewhat of the spirit of the 
 place, and most considered Eton to be much 
 above the rest of the world, if not the centre of 
 the universe. Perhaps there was something also 
 in the vicinity of Windsor Castle which may have 
 led to an idea that the school was in some way 
 connected with royalty. I well remember how 
 tame and second-rate Oxford appeared to me 
 afterwards, with its heterogeneous society and 
 pursuits. How astonished I was to hear that some 
 whom I regarded as sublime swells had come down 
 to the level of ordinary mortality, and had actually 
 consented to take country curacies and clerkships
 
 I02 VERT DE VERT'S ETON DAYS. 
 
 in public offices. I even knew a captain of the 
 boats who went to the bar, and after that con- 
 descension did not succeed in obtaining any- 
 business ! 
 
 The picture which the retrospect of Eton hfe 
 leaves on the mind is one of summer sunshine — 
 not that there was then more sunshine on the 
 landscape, but there was more in our young 
 hearts. We forget most of the trials we endured, 
 and, by a kindly dispensation, those we recollect 
 afford us now pleasure in place of pain. There 
 certainly was more gaiety and variety in the 
 school than at present exists. The difference 
 between the Eton of the past and that of the 
 present consists mainly in the increased number 
 of examinations, the greater strictness of disci- 
 pline, and the abolition of festivals. The whole 
 holidays now, if such they can be called, are broken 
 by an early lesson. The boys attend churCh 
 every morning — very few did in my days. Cur- 
 tains now divide the ' Upper School,' and it is 
 said that this fine old chamber, whose oak is 
 scored with the names of Fox and Canning and 
 a hundred other notables, and where generations 
 of great men have delivered their first speeches, 
 will echo to such utterances no more. Montem, 
 Election Saturday, check nights, oppidan dinner.
 
 PROGRESS. 103 
 
 the race with Westminster, and the match with 
 Winchester at Lords, have followed each other 
 into the shades of history. 
 
 But we must in fairness admit that some 
 exercises and amusements have been added since 
 1850. There are now a rifle-corps, and a race at 
 Henley ; and the beagles, which had disappeared 
 in my time, have been re-established. We must 
 conclude that the various changes which have 
 taken place have been desirable ; they have cer- 
 tainly been in accordance with the spirit of the 
 times : and this year (1887) the number of boys 
 on the books — 964 — is the highest that has ever 
 been attained. 
 
 It has been the rare privilege of those at 
 present at the school to assist in the celebration 
 of another Jubilee. Many will hereafter remem- 
 ber that midsummer night whose mystic fires 
 marked out emblems of loyalty ; and we feel 
 sure that love to their sovereign will ever burn 
 brightly among Eton boys, and that they will 
 hand on the torch to distant generations.
 
 ON HALF-A-CROVVN. 
 
 Half-a-crown of George the Third's long reign, 
 
 What scenes of pleasure and of pain 
 
 Couldst thou record ! I scarcely trace 
 
 The features of the Guelphic face. 
 
 So worn art thou by many hands. 
 
 Returned perchance from foreign lands. 
 
 Thousands thy rounded form have pressed, 
 And always as a welcome guest : 
 Never too late, and gone too soon, 
 Thy beaming presence deemed a boon. 
 And though of royal birth, no pride 
 Forbids thee humbly to reside 
 Among the poor, who often pray 
 Thou wouldst defer the parting day. 
 
 The grandsire gave thee for his snuff. 
 The beauty for her powder-puff; 
 The seamstress who had starved and sewn 
 Received thee for her herring-bone ;
 
 ON HALF-A-CROWN. 105 
 
 A noble gave thee to a groom, 
 A workman for his weekly room ; 
 With thee the housemaid gaily went 
 To buy a pinchbeck ornament ; 
 The masher threw thee for a flower, 
 The cabman drove for thee an hour ; 
 And many a man has won renown 
 Who started first with half-a-crown. 
 
 King George is dead. But now, again, 
 A golden marriage, in the reign 
 Of good Victoria, comes to bless 
 Our sovereign in her loneliness. 
 May the great Union ever shine ! 
 Ill fare the men of ill design — 
 Knaves who would tear our empire down, 
 And leave our Queen but half a crown.
 
 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 
 
 * Has the box been opened ?' inquired Dora. 
 
 ' I hope it will not prove a Pandora's box !' said 
 her father gaily. 
 
 ' Oh no ! I am sure it contains something 
 beautiful,' replied his daughter. ' It comes from 
 Mrs. Bromfield, and you know she has always 
 good taste.' 
 
 ' It is open,' said her mother ; ' and here are 
 the contents.' 
 
 ' A tea-set of old Worcester !' exclaimed Dora 
 in ecstasies. *' How lovely ! — why, the cups are as 
 transparent as egg-shells; and look at the delicate 
 painting — those are birds of Paradise !' 
 
 A chorus of approbation followed, which had 
 hardly subsided, when the door was thrown open, 
 and the butler announced : 
 
 ' Mrs. Martin.' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear Mrs. Martin,' said Dora, going 
 to meet her and squeezing her hand, ' how kind
 
 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 107 
 
 you are ! You must come over and see my wed- 
 ding presents. Look at the clocks ! surely I must 
 be always in time ; and the ivory prayer-books, 
 half a dozen of them ; then there is that looking- 
 glass with the Cupids over it, sent me with such a 
 complimentary note, saying I should always see 
 a fresh beauty in it. But of all my presents, there 
 is none I like better than yours, my dear Mrs. 
 Martin — that silver teapot ; anything so sweetly 
 chased I never before saw, and so light to the 
 hand — no weight at all !' 
 
 ]\Irs. Martin's countenance was a study. 
 
 ' Well,' she stammered, recovering herself, ' I 
 thought I would send you something small, which 
 you would use when alone, and then you would 
 remember me more often. What a splendid 
 diamond brooch ! — who gave you that, my dear?' 
 
 ' Mr. Jervis, to whom I am going to be married.' 
 
 Dora Milhngton was an exquisite little creature. 
 She had light wavy hair, pink and white com- 
 plexion, and such a rosy, tempting little mouth. 
 She had the character of being a flirt — a kind of 
 butterfly-being, which no dictionary has been able 
 to define and no philosopher to fathom. Perhaps 
 the real secret is in the eye ; she always seemed 
 as if she wished to be intensely kind. Every 
 man who conversed with her came away feeling
 
 loS LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 
 
 himself an inch taller and thinking that he was 
 appreciated at last. But, alas ! his feelings under- 
 went a sad revulsion when he found her next day 
 making herself equally agreeable to that conceited 
 Brown and that vulgar Robinson. The general 
 opinion was that she had no heart, or that if she 
 had any it had been so hashed and mashed as not 
 to be much worth having. It might have been 
 regarded as an hotel in which travellers only 
 stopped for the day. Elderly chaperons shook their 
 heads and said that she would never be married, 
 while her enemies applied to her the oppro- 
 brious name above mentioned — one people never 
 give to themselves, or to friends they value. 
 
 It is necessary to say that Dora indignantly 
 resented this description of her ; and to say the 
 truth, she had more sincerity than she was 
 supposed to possess. She had two or three 
 prime favourites among the un-fair sex, and there 
 was one who had for some time occupied lodgings 
 in her heart. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was still examining the gifts with 
 a valuator's eye, when the footman opened the 
 door and announced — 
 ' Mr. Jervis,' 
 
 The scrutinizing lady looked up with curiosity. 
 She had heard that the man to whom Dora was
 
 Z O VE' S LA UGHTER. 1 09 
 
 engaged was middle-aged, short, and plain, but 
 had certain sterling advantages of which her 
 father had a great appreciation. What a sur- 
 prise — here he was, a tall handsome young man 
 of twenty-five ! 
 
 On the name being announced, Dora rose and 
 went towards the door. As he entered she 
 seemed a little startled. But her confusion 
 changed into a smile, and she held out her hand. 
 ' I am glad to see you, Mr. Purvis,' she said ; 
 * it seems a long time since we have met. You 
 must excuse the mistake made by the footman ; 
 he is lately come, and I think is a little deaf.' 
 Mr. Purvis smiled in acknowledgment. 
 ' We are quartered at Gib.,' he said ; ' but I 
 have just obtained leave of absence, and I need 
 not say that you are the first person I have come 
 to see.' 
 
 'So very kind of you,' replied Dora quickly. 
 ' Mrs. Martin, allow me to introduce Mr. 
 Purvis.' 
 
 Some general conversation followed, during 
 which the lieutenant's eyes frequently turned to 
 the table covered with shining ornaments. At 
 last he said : 
 
 ' What a brilliant array you have on that table, 
 Miss Millington — such a variety of ornaments !'
 
 no LOVES LA UGHTER. 
 
 ' Oh 3'es ! don't you know ?' 
 
 ' Know ! — know what ?' 
 
 ' That I am going to be married next week.' 
 
 ' Going to be married!' he repeated in astonish- 
 ment. ' Not really ?' 
 
 ' It's a fact !' she returned, with a grave and 
 significant nod. 
 
 ' Oh, well, in that case — well then, it's no use ! 
 I shall return to Gib. I suppose I may guess 
 who is the fortunate individual. Your footman 
 was considerate,' he added with a little bitterness. 
 
 Dora could not help smiling through all her 
 embarrassment. She was thus able to change 
 the subject with female adroitness ; but there 
 was a constraint during the rest of the visit. All 
 were relieved when the lieutenant made his bow 
 and departed. 
 
 Dora was much disturbed by this event. It 
 awakened in her mind feelings long dormant, and 
 which she hoped had been suppressed for ever. 
 There was something painful in their recurring 
 when it was too late, and she determined to put 
 them aside once for all. Next day, as she was 
 sitting at her work with her mother in the 
 drawing-room, she meditated composedly upon 
 the prospect of her marriage. True, it was not 
 everything she could have wished, but her parents
 
 LOVES LAUGHTER. in 
 
 were pleased ; that was a satisfaction to her. 
 She beheved Mr. Jervis was a really amiable 
 man, and she hoped to make him a good wife. 
 Romance or enthusiasm she did not feel, but she 
 did not dislike the idea of having a comfortable if 
 not luxurious home. While she was thus placidly 
 musing, a gentle knock was heard at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' she said mechanically. It was her 
 maid — Simpkins. 
 
 ' Could I speak to you for a minute, miss ?' 
 
 ' Certainly.' Dora rose and went to her. 
 
 As soon as she was out of the room, Simpkins 
 closed the door firmly, and said in an ominous 
 voice : 
 
 * Mr. Purvis is downstairs, miss.' 
 
 Dora looked aghast ; for a moment she seemed 
 utterly bewildered and unable to speak. 
 
 ' Mr. Purvis !' she gasped at last. ' What docs 
 he want ?' 
 
 ' He wishes to see you, miss.' 
 
 * Oh, that is quite impossible ! Say that I am 
 very sorr}\ I could not see him.' 
 
 ' Very well, miss.' 
 
 Simpkins went down with the message. Purvis 
 was greatly disconcerted when he received it. 
 
 ' Not even for a minute ?' he said dejectedly. 
 Then, after a pause, he asked : ' Could I write a 
 note ?'
 
 112 LOVES LAUGHTER. 
 
 ' Certainly. Walk in here,' said Simpkins, 
 opening the dining-room door. 
 
 Purvis took out a pencil, and tearing off a half- 
 sheet from a note, wrote as follows : 
 
 ' Dear Miss Millington, 
 
 ' Having come so far to see you, I write 
 this in the hope that you will not condemn me 
 to return without having at least a few minutes' 
 conversation with you. It would be a consola- 
 tion to me in my lifelong banishment from your 
 presence. I feel sure that, in remembrance of 
 many past days of happiness, you will not refuse 
 
 this last request. 
 
 ' Ever yours, 
 
 * R. Purvis.' 
 
 Having finished this, and doubled it up into a 
 nice little three-cornered note, he handed it to 
 Simpkins, and putting his gold pencil case into his 
 pocket, took out therefrom something of the same 
 metal, but not so long. 
 
 ' Oh, thank you, sir,' said Simpkins. ' I'll take 
 care that Miss Dora has the note.' 
 
 Dora went out to a party that night. When 
 she returned and had retired to her room she 
 stood for a moment before the cheval glass, taking 
 a natural flower out of her hair, and perhaps ad-
 
 LOVE'S LA UGHTER. 1 1 3 
 
 miring, as she could scarcely avoid, her own 
 youthful beauty. Then, turning to Simpkins, she 
 inquired : 
 
 ' What did Mr. Purvis say ?' 
 
 ' Oh, he was in a way, miss,' replied her maid, 
 taking out the note. ' He begged of me to give 
 you this.' 
 
 Dora flushed, and looked at it with hesitation ; 
 then took it and laid it unopened on the table. 
 When she had sat down, Simpkins, who began to 
 brush her hair, added : 
 
 ' Mr. Purvis was so sorry that you would not 
 see him.' 
 
 ' I could not do it, Simpkins,' replied Dora. ' It 
 would be too painful, and of no use. Besides, it 
 would not look well, under the circumstances.' 
 
 ' Well, I don't see why you might not just see 
 him for a minute, merely to wish him " Good- 
 bye " before he goes back to the Antipoles.' 
 
 ' Don't brush my hair so hard, Simpkins !' 
 
 ' I don't know when I've seen a handsomer 
 gentleman,' persisted Simpkins ; ' and he always 
 seems to do the right thing. I am sure he will 
 be a most populous man.' 
 
 ' He has never been popular with my people,' 
 replied Dora. 
 
 ' Well, he was^very much liked when we were
 
 114 LOVES LA UGHTER. 
 
 at Harrogate. You used to meet him pretty 
 often, and I think enjoyed yourself very much 
 there.' 
 
 * Perhaps I did,' rephed Dora, a httle sadly and 
 absently. 
 
 ' I know you looked very well there. It was 
 such an embracing air.' 
 
 ' All that is past and gone,' said Dora, with an 
 effort. 'I must try to forget it. Everything is 
 now settled. I could wish things had ended 
 differently,' she added, almost inaudibly. 
 
 * But then, if you did see Mr. Purvis, it would 
 be only for a minute,' contended Simpkins, giving 
 the hair a tug. 
 
 ' Oh, how you hurt me ! But what could be 
 the use of my seeing him ? Well, perhaps just 
 for a minute, if he is so anxious about it — only 
 for a minute. But I would rather not. Besides, 
 how could it be managed ? It would not do to 
 have it known.' 
 
 ' Oh, leave all that to me, miss. I'll make the 
 arrangement. He can go into the dining-room, 
 and I will say that you are wanted for something. 
 "What time shall I fix ? He is to call for an answer 
 to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' Well, let me see. Say to-morrow, at six. I 
 shall be glad to have it over.'
 
 LOVES LAUGHTER. 115 
 
 Mrs. Millington was decidedly of opinion that 
 Dora did not look well next day. There was 
 something unusual and absent in her daughter's 
 manner. Mr. Jervis called, and did his best to 
 make himself agreeable. He was a worthy man, 
 better than many who were more appreciated. But 
 he was not at all calculated to kindle a flame in 
 any woman's breast. He was silent and medita- 
 tive, generally looking at his boots or at the 
 carpet, as if he had lost something. On this oc- 
 casion Dora seemed to have greater difficulty 
 than usual in summoning the smile with which 
 she generally spoke to him. After he departed 
 and as the day wore on she became uncomfort- 
 able, and said so little that her mother inquired 
 if she was ill. 
 
 ' No,' she replied ; ' only a little fatigued.' 
 
 She kept her eye on the clock. How much she 
 wished that she had refused, and saved herself all 
 this anxiety, and perhaps danger. Every minute 
 seemed an hour. At last six struck, and she 
 leant back exhausted in her chair. When a 
 tap came to the door she felt scarcely able to 
 answer. 
 
 Simpkins came in. 
 
 ' If you please, miss, the dressmaker has called 
 
 to see you.' 
 
 8—2
 
 Il6 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 
 
 Dora felt ashamed of her duphcity. She rose 
 with difficulty. 
 
 'The dressmaker!' exclaimed Mrs. Millington. 
 ' I'll go down with you. I want to speak to her 
 about the alterations in the skirt.' 
 
 ' Oh, ma'am,' interposed Simpkins, in some tre- 
 pidation, ' it's only a young person come about 
 the sleeves.' 
 
 ' Well, tell her to say that I am dissatisfied 
 with the skirt,' said Mrs. Millington loftily. 
 
 ' Certainly, ma'am. I'll say it is to be altered. 
 It is to be on a new destruction.' 
 
 On reaching the top of the stairs Dora's courage 
 failed. 
 
 ' Tell him that I am not able to go down, Simp- 
 kins. I cannot.'' 
 
 ' Oh, miss ! he will be so disappointed. Besides, 
 I said you would see him. Perhaps he will refuse 
 to leave.' 
 
 In a trembling state she reached the dining- 
 room. 
 
 ' As you wish to see me,' she said coldly, and 
 with a well-affected show of self-possession, 
 ' I have just come to say " Good-bye," but I 
 cannot stay.' 
 
 He seized her hand, and retained it in his 
 own.
 
 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 117 
 
 ' I wished,' he said earnestly, ' to ask you one 
 question. Do you forget all that has passed ? Is 
 this marriage you are going to make of your own 
 free choice ?' 
 
 Dora looked down nervously. 
 
 ' My parents wish it,' she replied feebly; 'and I 
 believe that I shall be happy with Mr. Jervis. 
 I hear he is a good man, and he is very kind 
 to me.' 
 
 * But do you love him ?' 
 Dora made no reply. 
 
 * Well, I will answer for you,' he continued ; 
 * you do not, and you are going to barter your 
 happiness in life for wealth and luxury, which can 
 never satisfy the heart. You will be miserable." 
 
 ' Do not speak in that way to me, Mr. Purvis. 
 It is all settled. I ought not to have seen you. 
 My parents, as you know, would never consent.' 
 
 ' But they will consent to something infinitely 
 worse, though I say so,' he replied. 
 
 ' I cannot stay longer,' she returned ; ' I must 
 say good-bye.' 
 
 * For ever ?' he asked pleadingly. ' May I not 
 see you once more ? Meet me at my sister's 
 to-morrow at this time.' 
 
 ' It is impossible ; pray leave me. I hear the 
 drawing-room door opened.'
 
 Il8 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 
 
 ' Well, promise to meet me.' 
 
 ' I cannot. Do, do please go ! My mother is 
 coming down.' 
 
 ' Then I will stay here and meet her. I will 
 claim you, and tell her she has no right to destroy 
 your happiness.' 
 
 ' Oh no ! you could not do anything so dreadful 
 — do go 1' 
 
 ' Then promise ; to-morrow at six.' 
 
 ' Oh, very well — anything ! But do go at once.' 
 
 He pressed her hand and cheek, and had but 
 just closed the hall-door, when Mrs. Millington's 
 voice was heard. 
 
 ' Dora, have you finished ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' she replied, ' only just.' 
 
 * Why, how pale you look ! What is the 
 matter ?' 
 
 ' Nothing. I do not feel quite well ; my hands 
 — I mean my arms — have been so squeezed.' 
 
 * You certainly are not well,' said her mother 
 doubtfully, and wdth a feeling that she did not 
 know everything. 
 
 Dora was very thoughtful all the evening. Her 
 look was vacant ; but if anyone could have seen 
 her mind, they would have found it very full and 
 violently agitated. Should she go to meet Mr. 
 Purvis again? He ought not to have asked it.
 
 LOVES LAUGHTER. 119 
 
 Her conscience said she should not, but some 
 other voice — was it that of her heart ? — said she 
 should go. Moreover, she had made a promise — 
 under pressure, no doubt, but still there was a 
 promise. How often do we try to persuade our- 
 selves that we are under some moral obligation 
 to carry out our inner wishes ! Dora finally 
 decided, though not without misgivings, that no 
 harm could come from doing what was right and 
 keeping her word. 
 
 When the next day came, she felt so really ill 
 that she was uncertain whether she should be 
 physically capable of keeping the appointment. 
 But in the afternoon she was better, and started 
 to take tea with a friend at five. Thence she 
 went on to the dreaded interview. 
 
 Mr. Purvis and his sister greeted her warmly, 
 and made her feel at home. The sister had some 
 pressing business to transact, late as was the 
 hour, and was obliged to leave them alone. It 
 was a warm summer's day, and not only the 
 cornfields but all other things were in a ripen- 
 ing state. Dora's fears gradually subsided, her 
 views changed, old feelings returned, and she felt 
 happier than she had been for a long time. Before 
 she left her decision was made. She knew that 
 she was resigning wealth for love, and entering on
 
 1 20 LOVES LA UGHTER. 
 
 a battle with a hard, cruel world. But she was 
 not without courage, and would have a strong 
 arm to support her. 
 
 Next morning Dora indited the following letter : 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Jervis, 
 
 * I write under a sense of the deepest self- 
 abasement ; but I should be more culpable if I 
 allowed you to remain in ignorance of the truth. 
 I am ready to carry out my engagement with you 
 according to my promise, but am bound in duty 
 to tell you that I cannot give you that affection 
 which a wife ought to feel for a husband. It 
 costs me much to say this. You have always 
 been most kind ; and I only hope that you will 
 grant me your forgiveness, and will find some one 
 more worthy of you than — 
 
 ' Your sincere and grateful 
 
 ' Dora Millington.' 
 
 On the receipt of this, Mr. Jervis was full of 
 astonishment not unmingled with indignation. 
 He put on his hat and went off to ask for ex- 
 planations from Mr. Millington. Both of them 
 were agreed as to the behaviour of the young 
 lady, and Mr. Millington offered to call her down 
 to see Mr. Jervis and let him hear what she could
 
 LOVE'S LAUGHTER. 12 1 
 
 say in her defence. But on consideration it was 
 thought that such an interview would be painful 
 to all concerned and lead to no satisfactory result; 
 and so, after privately speaking with his daughter 
 in a somewhat irate mood, and making all the 
 apologies he could, Mr, Millington with great 
 regret saw Mr. Jervis and his sterling qualities 
 cross his threshold for the last time. 
 
 After this the Millingtons' was no longer a 
 happy family. There was restraint ; the daughter 
 was treated coldly by father and mother, and the 
 latter was constantly throwing out covert allusions 
 to what had occurred. The daughter was con- 
 science-stricken, and became morbidly sensitive. 
 She thought reflections were intended even when 
 they were not, and could not help feeling re- 
 sentful. 
 
 One morning, when Mr. Millington came down 
 to breakfast, his daughter was not sitting in her 
 usual place. On the table a letter for him was 
 lying directed in her handwriting. With some 
 surprise at the circumstance, he opened it ; and 
 as he read his countenance changed, and he 
 became pale and motionless. His eyes seemed 
 fixed on the paper; he read it again, and then 
 turned it over and scrutinized it, back and front, 
 as if it were some literary curiosity. Finally, he
 
 122 LOVES LAUGHTER. 
 
 threw it on the table, saying to his wife with 
 marked emphasis : 
 
 ' Read that !' 
 
 It ran as follows : 
 
 ' My dearest Father, 
 
 ' By the time you receive this I shall be the 
 wife of Mr. Purvis. It almost breaks my heart to 
 do what is so much against your wishes and those 
 of my mother; but I have no alternative, as the 
 happiness of my life is at stake. You must know 
 that for some time past the state of things has 
 been most unpleasant for me — in fact, unendur- 
 able. The house has not been like a home to 
 me. Mr. Purvis is a most estimable man : I wish 
 you knew his worth ; and I fully believe he will 
 be everything I could wish. But I can never be 
 perfectly happy without your forgiveness, which I 
 hope you will grant me ; at any rate after a little 
 time. And meanwhile, think kindly of, and make 
 allowances for, 
 
 * Your ever affectionate daughter, 
 
 ' Dora.' 
 
 Mrs. MiUington read this with more indignation 
 and with less silence than her better half. Her 
 anger overcame her sorrow. 
 
 ' Impossible !' she exclaimed ; ' I cannot believe
 
 LOVE'S LA UGHTER. ' 123 
 
 it. Such disgraceful conduct — such ingratitude ; 
 and after all that I have done for her ! Having 
 the best masters for her ; taking her to the best 
 parties ; sitting up till three or four o'clock in the 
 morning, till I am sure I have been nearly dead ; 
 always keeping her in sight ; telling her what to 
 do and what to say, and only to know good 
 people. You have not gone through all ihis, and 
 cannot feel as I do ; indeed, I do not think men 
 have any feeling !' 
 
 ' My dear !' expostulated Mr. Millington. 
 
 ' Oh ! don't make excuses for her ; that was 
 always your way. This comes of your spoiling 
 her, and of my indulging all her whims. I am to 
 be the sufferer. Little does she care about her 
 
 unhappy mother ' At this point she burst 
 
 into sobs, and left the room. 
 
 With some difficulty and the assistance of the 
 balusters, she made her way upstairs, and when 
 at the top called : 
 
 ' Simpkins, here's something for you !' 
 
 * Thank you, ma'am,' replied the maid, coming 
 out with extended hand. 
 
 ' Miss Dora has eloped — gone off with Mr. 
 Purvis, that penniless lieutenant !' 
 
 'No! — has she, ma'am?' exclaimed Simpkins 
 with apparent surprise.
 
 1 24 LO VE'S LA UGIITER. 
 
 ' It's a fact — they're married ! I see now why 
 she would not have that good, honourable Mr. 
 Jervis — oh no !' 
 
 * Well, it is a bad business, ma'am,' replied 
 Simpkins. ' But don't take on so ; it cannot be 
 helped. She never cared for Mr. Jervis, and per- 
 haps things may turn out better than you think. 
 You cannot keep a young lady like a flower in 
 a conservative ; and I never should be an a'vocate 
 for her marrying a man with whom she had no 
 symphony.'
 
 THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 Art thou a colour, or a form 
 
 Woven of liquid air, 
 So freshly sweet, so softly tinged, 
 
 So delicately fair ? 
 
 When roses sleep in winter's night. 
 
 Awaiting summer's morn, 
 Thou heraldest advancing light, 
 
 A rose without a thorn ! 
 
 Pure maidenhood, which God above, 
 Endues with heavenly grace, 
 
 In tender modesty is seen 
 Reflected in thy face. 
 
 And when our Leader lately shone 
 
 In wisdom and in power, 
 When Flora strewed his path with gifts, 
 
 He chose this simple flower. 
 
 Then while it blooms with stainless hue, 
 
 His truth shall never die : 
 We think of him whene'er we see 
 
 Bright primrose in the sky.
 
 BANDITTI. 
 
 Brigandage seems to be the inalienable heritage 
 of Greece, Italy, and Spain — the three downward 
 extremities of Europe and civilisation. From 
 piracy having been so rife in the Mediterranean, 
 we might suppose the breezes of that sea to be 
 somewhat overcharged with the spirit of liberty ; 
 but we should perhaps be more correct if we 
 concluded that the radiance of southern suns en- 
 feebles and demoralises human nature. The 
 lands are spellbound ; a sweet languor pervades 
 the air, congenial rather to indolence and pleasure 
 than to healthy and honest industry. The Celtic 
 race, moreover, was never fond of toil, and, if a 
 living must be made, would prefer to obtain it 
 by some wild romantic enterprise than by under- 
 going the drudgery of everyday work. Add to 
 such considerations that these countries are 
 crossed by chains of mountains, offering natural
 
 BANDITTI. 127 
 
 advantages for concealment, and the existence of 
 brigandage is easily intelligible. 
 
 But, granting every inclination and facility for 
 law^less adventure, it is necessary to its success 
 that it should possess the sympathy of the popu- 
 lation. If the people generally were unwilling to 
 shelter the offenders, crime would be kept within 
 due bounds ; but where there is no just indigna- 
 tion against it, life and property will never be 
 secure. Under such circumstances, the violator 
 of the laws assumes an entirely different character 
 from that he bears in a settled country. He is a 
 sort of national representative and champion of 
 liberty ; he only robs and murders the rich, and 
 has, perhaps, as many nice points of honour as 
 a professed duellist. It is not long since the 
 highwayman was regarded as a hero even in 
 England — as a glorious successor of Robin Hood 
 and of the merry men who lived under the green- 
 wood tree. The laws were then arbitrary and 
 distasteful, the people were uncivilized, and young 
 men of good family often took to the road, even 
 in this sober Saxon land. 
 
 Brigandage has, therefore, various aspects and 
 forms, corresponding to the characters and posi- 
 tions of those who practise it, from the courteous 
 chief to the vulgar footpad. Many of these men,
 
 128 BANDITTI. 
 
 to do them justice, have had great temptations to 
 crime. In Ital}', for instance, the laws were, until 
 lately, immoderately severe in their penalties 
 against any who resisted the officers of justice ; 
 and sometimes when a young man was called out 
 as a conscript on the eve of his marriage, or the 
 aged father of a family was about to be carried 
 off to prison for a small debt, much sympathy 
 would be awakened in the village, and some 
 young men of more courage than reflection would 
 offer resistance to the police. From that moment 
 their fate was sealed ; nothing remained for them 
 but death or the galleys. Under these circum- 
 stances, they preferred andare in canipagna — to 
 betake themselves to the mountains, where they 
 became bandits (outlaws), and avenged them- 
 selves by rendering the neighbouring roads unsafe 
 for travellers. 
 
 A Sicilian lady told me lately, to my surprise, 
 that she had never seen a bandit — they kept 
 mostly to a few localities — but she admitted that 
 none of her family ever ventured far from the 
 house without an armed escort. She took that 
 favourable view of brigandage which is held in 
 the island. 'There is nothing extraordinary in 
 it,' she said. ' The Government keep up a large 
 army ; ever}- man has to serve seven years, and.
 
 BANDITTI. 129 
 
 as they dislike soldiering, many run away. They 
 cannot then obtain employment, and therefore 
 become bandits. What would you have ? People 
 must live. Well, they are not so bad as the Irish.' 
 
 Some of the brigands, and especially some of 
 their chiefs, are, or have been, clever and romantic 
 fellows. They are fond of gay costumes, can sing 
 good songs and relish good jokes, especially such 
 as are of a practical kind. A Piedmontese gentle- 
 man once gave me several instances of their 
 indulging their humorous fancies, of which the 
 following may serve as a specimen : 
 
 Two Italian Counts (Pietro F and Giuseppe 
 
 C ) had been chamois-hunting in the Alps, 
 
 some fifty miles from Turin. As is usual on 
 such expeditions, they had lived some days in the 
 mountains, sometimes sleeping in cottages, some- 
 times under temporary shelter, prepared by their 
 guides. In a few days, after enjoying a very 
 satisfactory amount of sport and discomfort, they 
 retraced their steps, and stopped on the way back 
 at a small albergo at the foot of the mountains. 
 Here they paid off the guides, and remained to 
 await their carriage, which was to convey them 
 in the cool of the evening to Turin. 
 
 Meanwhile, they ordered dinner and entered 
 the principal room, which was empty, or at least 
 
 9
 
 13 o BANDITTI. 
 
 occupied b}' only one individual, who was sitting 
 at a small table sipping some wine. His costume 
 resembled that of the peasantry, but was of finer 
 materials, and from his superior mien and finely- 
 cut features the Counts supposed him to be some 
 enthusiastic sportsman, who had adopted the 
 country dress for convenience. Their conjectures 
 seemed corroborated by his lithe, athletic figure, 
 which seemed unaccustomed either to toil or 
 ease, and bespoke him ' robust and hardy as a 
 mountaineer.' 
 
 The Counts felt that he was a man of their own 
 mind, and on his making some casual observation, 
 readily entered into conversation with him. They 
 were not mistaken ; he knew w'ell every crevice 
 and gorge in the mountains, and gave them sage 
 advice as to where the best sport was to be 
 found. Evening drew on, but the conversation 
 was so pleasant that they lingered still, and the 
 stars shone bright in the firmament before they 
 rose to leave. Their sporting friend then asked 
 them which direction they intended to take, re- 
 commending the road through the open country, 
 as the upper one was said, though he did not 
 believe it, to be infested by banditti. 
 
 ' Banditti !' exclaimed Giuseppe. ' We care 
 little for them. We onlv wish we could meet a
 
 BANDITTI. 131 
 
 few. I have something here,' he continued, pro- 
 ducing a brace of pistols, ' that would give them 
 a warm reception !' 
 
 ' And I too,' added Pietro, showing another 
 brace. ' I have something pretty here ; not to 
 mention a little Catalan knife, which might do 
 good service at close quarters.' 
 
 * You are brave men,' replied their companion, 
 ' and will teach the fellows a good lesson whenever 
 you meet them.' 
 
 ' I should hke to send a ball through that rascal 
 Marco,' added Giuseppe. 
 
 ' Ah, Marco ! Yes ; but perhaps he is not so 
 bad as you think him.' 
 
 ' He had better not come near me, that is all I 
 have to say,' replied Pietro. 
 
 The stranger now took out his watch, and 
 observed that it was growing late. He was 
 fatigued, and wished to retire, so he wished the 
 Counts ' good-night ' and ' Buoii' viaggio.' 
 
 It was a moonless but a cloudless night, and in 
 that southern climate the starlight made the roads 
 and fields visible, while the trees covered them here 
 and there with chequered and uncertain shadows. 
 Marco — for it was none other — on leaving the 
 travellers walked along the upper road they were 
 to take, with an amused expression of counten- 
 
 9—2
 
 132 BANDITTI. 
 
 ance, from which those who knew him would have 
 concluded that he was bent upon some merry- 
 mischief. About a mile from the inn he met a 
 peasant returning home, and, stopping him, 
 ordered him to stand in a certain position on the 
 edge of a neighbouring vineyard, and to hold a 
 vine-stake — which he pulled out of the ground — to 
 his shoulder like a gun. Having made this 
 arrangement, he concealed himself behind some 
 trees, and just as the Counts' carriage was driving 
 past, rushed out and seized the horses' heads, 
 vociferating : 
 
 ' Halt ! halt ! Stop, in the name of Marco !' 
 The horses offered little opposition to the order, 
 and as for the coachman, he nearly fell off the box 
 with terror. The Counts, however, hastily got 
 out their pistols, and one of them took a deliberate 
 aim at Marco's head. 
 
 ' If you lire, you are dead men,' cried Marco. 
 * My band are in the vineyard, and ready to open 
 upon you. You can see them,' he continued, 
 pointing to the man with the vine-stake. ' They 
 are only awaiting my word.' 
 
 * I certainly do see some one,' said Giuseppe, 
 looking in the direction indicated. 
 
 * So do I,' replied Pietro. * He has a large 
 company, I have been told. What can two men'
 
 BANDITTI. 133 
 
 do against fifty or sixty ? We shall only lose our 
 lives for nothing.' 
 
 ' What do you want of us ?' asked Giuseppe, as, 
 observing their change of voice, Marco approached 
 the carriage window. 
 
 ' Well, my friends,' replied the bandit, whose 
 voice they now recognised, ' I shall not treat you 
 as badly as you intended to treat me. You are 
 brave men and true sportsmen, but I must have 
 all the arms in your possession. Hand them out 
 quickly, or it may be the worse for you.' 
 
 After very little deliberation the Counts' guns 
 and pistols were delivered up. 
 
 ' And that little Catalan knife,' demanded 
 Marco. 
 
 ' Give it up at once, Pietro,' said Giuseppe 
 nervously. ' Give it up, man. We shall be 
 shot.' 
 
 The demand was immediately, though reluc- 
 tantly, complied with by his companion. 
 
 ' You have another pistol somewhere,' con- 
 tinued Marco. ' Come, out with it !' 
 
 ' I have not,' returned Pietro. ' Giuseppe, give 
 up the other pistol.' 
 
 ' I have given up everything, as you well know,' 
 answered Giuseppe. ' If there is another, you 
 have it.'
 
 134 BANDITTI. 
 
 ' I ! What do you mean by that ? It is false. 
 You want to keep back things, and to get me shot 
 for having them. You're a dishonest, lying ' 
 
 ' Well, signors,' interposed Marco, observing 
 their alarm and recriminations, ' I will relieve you 
 by telling you that I think you have been as good 
 as your word. You have delivered up everything, 
 and may now proceed on your way. You said 
 you would teach Marco a lesson. I hope that he 
 has taught you one, and that in future you will 
 allude to him with greater respect.' 
 
 The Counts returned to Turin dejected and 
 disgraced. They had no opportunity afterwards 
 of making use of the sporting gentleman's informa- 
 tion about the mountain game, as the Government, 
 in indignation at their pusillanimity, revoked their 
 licenses for carrying fire-arms. 
 
 Brigands are largely indebted for their immunity 
 and success to the landlords of small country 
 inns, who, in the course of their business, hear of 
 all the movements in the neighbourhood. In 
 some cases mine host is merely actuated by fear, 
 but in others he is a wiUing instrument, and even 
 a principal. 
 
 Towards the end of the last century one of the 
 dukes of Hamilton escaped in a most providential 
 manner from the hands of one of these worthies.
 
 BANDITTI. 135 
 
 He was making the 'grand tour' according to 
 the fashion of the times, well armed, and accom- 
 panied by his servant. One night their carriage 
 broke down in a somewhat unaccountable manner 
 near a small roadside inn among the Apennines. 
 They were compelled to stop there for the night, 
 and after supper he and his man retired to their 
 respective bedrooms. The Duke's apartment was 
 spacious, but had nothing remarkable in its 
 appearance ; and, being tired, he was about to 
 undress hastily, when he observed that his large 
 dog, his constant and faithful companion by day 
 and night, was sniffing and looking about the floor 
 in a very uneasy and dissatisfied manner. His 
 attention was aroused, and, watching the dog, he 
 looked under the bed, and there perceived some- 
 thing that appeared like a trap-door. Having 
 made such a discovery, he thought it would be 
 better to stay awake, and sat up in a chair instead 
 of going to bed, placing his pistols conveniently 
 beside him. Sleep, however, overcame him, and 
 he was awakened in the middle of the night by 
 the growling of his dog. Opening his eyes, he 
 saw a light coming from under the bed, and a man's 
 head beginning to appear. He seized and cocked 
 his pistols, calling out that he would shoot the 
 first man that entered. Upon this the trap-door
 
 136 BANDITTI. 
 
 was immediately closed. The Duke remained on 
 guard until daybreak, when he summoned the 
 landlord to give an account of what had occurred. 
 The man no sooner appeared than the dog sprang 
 upon him, and it was with difficulty that they 
 prevented his suffering summary punishment for 
 his treachery. Inquiries were forthwith instituted, 
 and it was found that many travellers had mysteri- 
 ously disappeared in that fatal hostelry. This 
 story has the more interest at the present time as 
 several portraits of this (the eighth) Duke remain 
 among the fading glories of Hamilton Palace. 
 
 It will be refreshing to turn from such a dark 
 episode to another story of the Piedmontese 
 gentleman, which has more of a comic than tragic 
 character, but in which the lord of the spigot 
 again plays a part. A celebrated Italian physician, 
 who, not satisfied with the legitimate game of his 
 profession, was a keen sportsman and an unerring 
 shot, met at an albergo near Milan a man not 
 very dissimilar from the signer with whom the 
 Torinese counts became so inauspiciously ac- 
 quainted. A conversation sprang up, in which 
 bandits and their proceedings were discussed ; 
 and the doctor, alluding, with some natural pride, 
 to the precision of his aim, said he much desired 
 that one of them would cross his path. Armed
 
 BANDITTI. 137 
 
 with his trusty gun and pistols, he walked at large, 
 and should like to see the man who would dare 
 to molest him. Evening drew on, and his new 
 acquaintance — a noted brigand and a bold 
 whimsical fellow — left the inn first by about half 
 an hour. Proceeding in the direction the doctor 
 was to take, he broke off a branch from a chest- 
 nut-tree, and, fixing it into the middle of the road, 
 suspended from its top a small lantern he carried 
 with him. Presently the doctor was heard 
 approaching with his firm military step. On 
 coming to a turn in the road he suddenly per- 
 ceived the light, and halting, demanded : 
 
 ' Who comes there ?' 
 
 No answer was, of course, returned. The doctor 
 drew himself up. A breeze agitated the chestnut 
 branch, and the lantern moved. 
 
 ' If you advance another step 3'ou are a dead 
 man !' cried the doctor. 
 
 The wind, however, took no notice of the 
 threat, and the lantern continued to swing. 
 ■ ' If you don't answer I shall fire !' shouted the 
 doctor ; and suiting the action to the word, he 
 raised his gun, took aim, and 
 
 ' Basta /' said a voice close to his ear, and he 
 found himself pinioned by an iron grip from 
 behind. ' You must not waste your powder,' said
 
 138 BANDITTI. 
 
 the brigand, ' because I want it, and I also re- 
 quire your trusty gun and pistols. And now,' he 
 continued, relieving him of the articles in question, 
 * you need not be alarmed, for I do not intend to 
 shoot you ; but I shall take away your arms and 
 ammunition, as you do not seem to me to make 
 a good use of them.' 
 
 But gay and fanciful bandits of this type are 
 now becoming scarce ; a lower kind are more 
 common, and the hero of story is not the sort of 
 man generally encountered on the highway. A 
 charming lady once told me that she was greatly 
 disappointed on her wedding-tour in Italy at not 
 seeing a bandit ; she was constantly looking out 
 for one. 
 
 ' But, my dear,' observed her husband, ' be 
 consoled. You have probably met with many. 
 You would not know one if you saw him.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I should !' she persisted. 
 
 ' Indeed ! How ?' 
 
 ' Oh, he would be a tall, handsome, romantic- 
 looking fellow, with a velvet coat, and feathers in 
 his hat.' 
 
 Before they left the South the fair lady's 
 illusion was sadly dispelled ; for they did meet a 
 bandit in charge of a policeman, and a more 
 ragged, dirty, unpoetical man she never beheld.
 
 BANDITTI. 139 
 
 The States of the Church were more infected 
 with brigandage than almost any other part of 
 Italy. It is said that some of Cardinal Antonelli's 
 family made their livelihood in this unpleasant 
 manner. The sacred city itself was until lately 
 notoriously unsafe. I remember having heard of 
 a remarkable misfortune which befell a celebrated 
 antiquary, who, in spite of the warnings of his 
 friends and the frequent reports of robberies, per- 
 sisted in wandering about unattended in the less 
 frequented parts of Rome. One night he deter- 
 mined to pay a visit to the Colosseum, to behold 
 it, like Alelrose Abbey, ' by the pale moonlight ' ; 
 and certainly he was well repaid by gazing on 
 that stupendous monument of imperial power 
 when the spectral beams seemed to repeople it 
 with the multitudes of the past, and he almost 
 fancied that he could hear the shouting of the 
 populace and the roaring of the wild beasts. 
 Where were now those eager faces, those excited 
 voices ? Silent and still. The acacia waves 
 where great Caesar sat ; the cross stands where 
 gladiators fought. 
 
 Such and kindred thoughts occupied the mind 
 of the student, when he suddenly felt himself 
 rudely jostled by a dark figure muffled up in a 
 long cloak. The person passed quickly away on
 
 I40 BANDITTI. 
 
 to the other side ; but the shock had completely 
 dispelled our antiquary's visions of the past, and 
 recalled him to the vulgarity of the present. He 
 did not like the rough treatment he had received, 
 and, remembering the accounts he had heard of 
 robberies happening in this neighbourhood, he 
 immediately put his hand into his pocket to feel 
 for his watch. It was gone ! He now became 
 thoroughly awakened and considerably discon- 
 certed. Where had the thief escaped to? On 
 looking round carefully, he espied the man standing 
 under the shadow of one of the small shrines then 
 in the arena. Keeping his eye well on him, he stole 
 round on the other side of the shrine, and before 
 the man could see him, rushed out, and seized 
 him by the throat, demanding, in the best broken 
 Itahan he could command, that he should restore 
 him the watch. The delinquent was evidently 
 taken off his guard ; and the antiquar}^ who was 
 more powerful than most of his fraternity, re- 
 ceiving no answer, uttered several maledictory 
 words, put his hand into the man's pocket, and 
 took out the watch. He then felt satisfied and 
 let him go, after dealing him a good punch in the 
 ribs, and teUing him he should be thankful to get 
 off so easily. 
 
 Our friend returned home rather elated with
 
 BANDITTI. 
 
 141 
 
 his success, and congratulating himself on his 
 presence of mind, but inwardly resolving to be 
 more circumspect in his future explorations. 
 After recounting his adventure to his famil}^, he 
 retired, being fatigued, a little earlier than usual. 
 Before getting into bed he proceeded, as usual, to 
 wind up his watch. What was the matter with 
 the key ? It did not fit. He now looked care- 
 fully at the watch. No wonder he could not wind 
 it ; although somewhat similar, it was not his. 
 He looked round, and there beheld on the 
 mantelpiece his usual companion, ticking away 
 as merrily as if nothing had occurred. The alarm- 
 ing truth now flashed upon him. He had not 
 taken his watch out, and had purloined that of 
 some other person ! He resolved to make his 
 mistake known by an advertisement in the morn- 
 ing. But before dawn he was awakened — or 
 rather startled, for he could not sleep — by a 
 tremendous knocking at the front door. Looking 
 out, he saw half a dozen armed men in the Papal 
 uniform, and soon heard that they had come to 
 take him into custody for robbing a priest in the 
 Colosseum. The police were admitted, and he 
 explained the mistake and offered the watch ; but 
 they shook their heads, said that several robberies 
 had been committed latel}^, and that he had been
 
 142 BANDITTI. 
 
 observed loitering in a suspicious manner about 
 ruins and in unfrequented localities. They refused 
 to leave the house without him, and he began 
 to think of stories about Italian prisons and 
 tortures. 
 
 Most fortunately, our learned friend was per- 
 sonally known to the British Consul, and by 
 means of the intercession and explanations of that 
 official, the affair, which at first threatened to be 
 serious, ^^■as satisfactorily arranged.
 
 PROPOSALS. 
 
 When in London a short time since, I heard a 
 popular West-end preacher take for the text of 
 his last sermon for the season the significant 
 words, ' We have toiled all the night and have taken 
 nothing ;' and as these words must awaken a re- 
 sponsive echo in the heart of many a Belgravian 
 mother, we will adopt them as our own text for 
 the present discourse. 
 
 ' Toil,' indeed, it may suitably be called ; for 
 what labour can equal that of attending concerts, 
 teas, dinners, and balls, of arranging parties, of 
 devising new dresses, and of discovering through 
 occult channels the means and positions of all 
 the young men who flirt about London drawing- 
 rooms ? The work begins early in the morning, 
 and at what hour is it finished ? And all this to 
 procure marriages which at the best are of doubt- 
 ful advantage. Girls are tricked out and educated 
 in * the way they should go ' to such an extent, 
 that it has been aptly said that when they are
 
 144 PROPOSALS. 
 
 not fishing they are mending their nets. Parents, 
 meanwhile, are throwing away money in hopes 
 of obtaining something more than they can fairly 
 expect. Nay, mothers, it were better to la}- up 
 silver store for your darlings, than to bid them 
 dream of golden marriages. 
 
 A few men become no doubt legitimate spoils of 
 the chase, and more are caught by propinquity. 
 There will always be some ready to sell themselves 
 for money, but the great majority fall in love — 
 cynical old bachelors say that it is always a ' fall.' 
 
 Women educated at home, and fed with 
 romances, in which, if a girl is amiable, she is re- 
 warded with a coronet, little know how large is 
 the world and how keen is competition. Like 
 the budding poet who demanded a thousand 
 pounds for his manuscript, many a mother 
 imagines that if her girls were only introduced 
 into good society, and would follow her excellent 
 advice, they would have rank and wealth at their 
 disposal. We can picture one of them coming 
 up for the season, full of conscious pride, to bring 
 her daughters upon the grand arena. They are 
 invited to a ball ; the locality is fashionable, the 
 rooms are spacious, the decorations superb. The 
 young ladies are all blushes and trepidation ; 
 the mother is radiant with prospective victory.
 
 PROPOSALS. 145 
 
 There is an array of good-looking young men, 
 whose moustaches seem to distil sweetness, as 
 their open waistcoats display generosity, and each 
 is regarded as a virtuous prince ready to place his 
 hand and heart and large fortune at the feet of 
 the all-conquering Edith. There are of course 
 other girls present, rather more than gentlemen, 
 but they are so very inferior. The band strikes 
 up ; the couples begin to spin round like teeto- 
 tums ; but * no one has come to ask my girls to 
 dance ! Oh, yes ; here is little Mr. Jones 
 approaching. Well, he will save appearances, 
 though he cannot be thought of seriously, as he is 
 a fourth son.' Calm your feelings, my dear lady. 
 I can tell you that, of the fifty men at this ball, 
 thirty are younger sons, officers in the army, clerks, 
 and barristers, who can scarcely pay for their 
 sherry and cigars ; ten are married men ; five are 
 hopeless old bachelors, who have long made them- 
 selves comfortable ; and of the remaining five, 
 the onty marrying men, two are in commerce and 
 want ' handles ' to lift them, and the other three 
 have country estates heavily mortgaged, and are 
 looking out for girls with golden drops. Truly, 
 madam, if you believe the French proverb that ' A 
 man without money is a body without blood,' your 
 maternal eye might well regard this company of 
 
 10
 
 146 PROPOSALS. 
 
 penniless gentlemen as a set of waltzing phan- 
 toms. 
 
 What then do we conclude ? That a girl may 
 go to a hundred such parties without obtaining 
 an offer ? Not so ; they will have many. Men 
 who are undesirable are alwa3's ready to propose. 
 I lately met a young fellow slightly in debt, who 
 told me that he was deeply enamoured with a 
 charming girl he had met at a ball. Her eyes were 
 full of dark lustre, androses languished in her raven 
 hair. He should never forget her — had spoken to 
 her from his heart and confessed all. It was im- 
 possible for him ever to love another. Six months 
 later I saw him again ; asked him how he pro- 
 gressed in his suit, and hoped it was prosper- 
 ing. 
 
 ' I fear not,' he replied ; ' for although we are 
 fondly attached to each other, and always shall 
 be, the old parents are obdurate.' 
 
 ' Then you have her consent ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; and I love her so dearly ; when I 
 look at her sweet face, and the ripples of her 
 flaxen hair, I think ' 
 
 * Flaxen hair !' I exclaimed. ' Why, you told 
 me she was a brunette,' 
 
 ' No, a lovely blonde,' he returned ; ' perhaps 
 you're thinking of Miss F . That affair was
 
 PROPOSALS. 147 
 
 off six months ago, and right glad I am to be out 
 of it.' 
 
 The next time I met this roving youth he had 
 another flame still more brilliant, and was hard 
 at work concocting some ridiculous poetry and 
 love-letters. In short, he was suffering from 
 chronic amorousness, just as some people are 
 troubled with persistent gout or rheumatism. 
 
 It was on a summer day, the season before last, 
 that the following dialogue took place between 
 two young ladies of my acquaintance. The}' had 
 long been on sisterly terms, kept no secret from 
 one another, and I believe had agreed that 
 the one guilty of any reservation should be 
 punished by exclusion from the other's room. I 
 shall here call them Lottie and Effie, On the 
 memorable morning to which I am about to 
 allude Lottie paid Effie a visit, not very early, for 
 neither had retired to rest before the small hours 
 had grown to considerable proportions. 
 
 * Well, Effie,' she said, entering ; ' how do you 
 feel after the ball ?' 
 
 ' Never better,' was the reply. ' How delightful 
 it was ! But I was a little tired towards the end.' 
 
 Lottie : Were you ? I do not know when I 
 enjoyed myself so much. The music was perfect. 
 You danced every set. 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 PROPOSALS. 
 
 Effie : Until just at the last. What an 
 excellent buffet ! I saw you in the supper-room 
 with Mr. T . 
 
 Lottie : Yes, he took me down. I never met 
 a more gentlemanly man. 
 
 Effie : Nor I ; and I believe he is rich. 
 
 Lottie : So I should think ; but my father 
 insists that he has nothing but his pay. 
 
 Effie : Oh, that is absurd. You can see by his 
 manner that he has always moved in good society. 
 
 Lottie : Well, Effie dear, it has come at last — 
 he has proposed. 
 
 Effie : Were you surprised at it ? 
 
 Lottie : No ; I can hardly say that. He had 
 for a long time shown a preference both in words 
 and actions. 
 
 Effie : W'hat in particular led you to expect 
 that he would make an offer ? 
 
 Lottie : W^ell, you know, there are many little 
 indications by which you can divine. There is the 
 language of the eye. 
 
 Effie : And the pressure of the hand. 
 
 Lottie : And once 
 
 Effie : How wicked you are ! I'm afraid it 
 was twice. 
 
 Lottie : Well, we will not say anything more 
 about that.
 
 PROPOSALS. 149 
 
 Effie : But I confess that I felt very much 
 confused when he took my hand. 
 
 Lottie : Took your hand, the wretch ! I should 
 think you did feel confused. Of course you with- 
 drew it instantly ? 
 
 Effie : Ye-es — that is, as soon as I could. 
 
 Lottie : I own that I was surprised at his 
 making a declaration at the ball. 
 
 Effie : He never did so — he is not that sort of 
 man. It was on Thursday, at that quiet little 
 garden-party at Lady Badminton's that he pro- 
 posed for me. 
 
 Lottie : For you ! What do you mean ? It 
 was for me, and at the ball last night. 
 
 At this climax the dialogue ceased, both being 
 lost in mute bewilderment. Explanations fol- 
 lowed, and they finally agreed that Mr. T was 
 
 the basest creature upon earth, and somewhat 
 more deceitful than the serpent that beguiled Eve. 
 Each, however, retained a firm conviction that 
 she was the favourite, and that he had only pro- 
 posed for the other in a fit of temporary insanity, 
 or under the influence of an overdose of heady 
 champagne. 
 
 Thus we see that ineligible offers are by no 
 means scarce. Many ' detrimentals ' find that 
 they can amuse themselves in this way, feeling
 
 ISO PROPOSALS. 
 
 certain that when their proposals are maturely 
 considered no one will accept them. I remember 
 well a garrison town, in which there lived a very 
 commonplace but rich young lady, the daughter 
 of a retired grocer, and it was said by some 
 that whenever a fresh regiment arrived every un- 
 married officer, from the colonel downwards, made 
 her an offer. It was wonderful how she escaped 
 so long, for they laid their plans and made their 
 advances upon strategical principles, as though 
 they were conducting a regular siege. 
 
 But to descend from the general to the par- 
 ticular, I will narrate the experience of an old 
 
 friend of mine, Mr. S , who, although not a 
 
 military man, was a member of a profession 
 equally destructive. Having entered the Inner 
 Temple, he duly ate the prescribed dinners, took 
 chambers, and sat and sat — as long as Theseus, 
 and with about the same amount of satisfaction. 
 Being determined to become Lord Chancellor, he 
 left no stone unturned, and knowing that one way 
 of attracting business was to pretend that he had 
 it, he seldom dined out, excusing himself by saying 
 that he was so much employed, and that time was 
 to him money. But all his devices, ingenious 
 though they were, ended in disappointment ; he 
 continued miserably poor, and in despair was
 
 PROPOSALS. 151 
 
 about to leave England and set up as a donkey- 
 merchant in Texas, when by accident he became 
 acquainted with a lady of position. 
 
 Mrs. Dimont lived in the best part of London ; 
 her carriage and horses were the envy of all Hyde 
 Park 'gravel-grinders'; she gave large parties, 
 and, notwithstanding her magnificence, was kind 
 
 and affable. She even invited Mr. S to call, 
 
 and expressed herself glad to welcome such a legal 
 luminary to her house. He was equally delighted ; 
 the appreciation seemed mutual ; and a thought 
 suddenly flashed across his mind that perhaps he 
 might not want the donkeys after all. To shorten 
 my story, one fine day in the ' merry month ' 
 found him stepping along Eaton Place in a smart 
 new suit — which, owing to outstanding ' little 
 accounts,' he had some difficulty in^ obtaining 
 from his tailor — and asking himself would fortune 
 now at length favour the brave. How his hand 
 trembled and his heart beat as he rang the bell ! 
 He was admitted to the lady, and after some 
 general observations, summoned courage, told his 
 tale of love, and declared himself ready to lay 
 everything he possessed at her feet. Of course 
 she was surprised, and blushed ; but as he grew 
 more pressing, she admitted that she was not in- 
 different towards him. There were happily no
 
 152 rROPOSALS. 
 
 parents to consult, and so the battle was now 
 pretty well won. Half an hour later he was re- 
 turning home an accepted man, looking into the 
 shop-windows to see what was the newest style of 
 furniture, and at the carriages to decide what kind 
 of equipage he should select. The only cloud in 
 the horizon arose about the settlements ; and to 
 avoid questions about them, he redoubled his 
 attentions, became passionately amorous, and 
 assured his idol that everything should be hers, 
 and that no legal contracts could be so strong 
 as the bonds of love. These assurances were 
 strengthened by frequent visits, which appeared 
 the more valuable as they were taken out of the 
 time which should have been spent on the busi- 
 ness of his numerous clients. Thus the road was 
 smoothed, the happy day arrived, and the united 
 pair drove off amid the congratulations of a crowd 
 of fashionable friends. 
 
 After spending about a fortnight in Paris, Mr. 
 
 S began to find that the slender supply of 
 
 money he had obtained from an ' honest Jew 'was 
 coming to an end, and that he must soon draw 
 upon his wife's resources. The unpleasant subject 
 of ways and means had never been touched on 
 since their marriage, and nothing but sheer neces- 
 sity could have induced him to bring it forward.
 
 PROPOSALS. 153 
 
 But there was no alternative, and therefore one 
 day after breakfast he broke the ice. 
 
 ' Heigho ! how sad it is that people cannot live 
 on love without money ; is it not, dearest ? But 
 we are compelled to think of earthly dross. You 
 will scarcely believe that the sum I brought away 
 with me from London is nearly exhausted.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! you had better not run any risk, but 
 write for more at once.' 
 
 ' Yes, m}' love. The fact is, my professional 
 income does not come in at this time of year ; 
 and you know that I have not been able to attend 
 much to business lately. I have been more plea- 
 santly occupied,' he added with a complimentary 
 smile. 
 
 ' Well, at any rate you must not allow yourself 
 to run short. You had better sell some of your 
 securities.' 
 
 ' No, I can scarcely do that. They are not 
 easily convertible — just at present.' 
 
 ' What, then, do you propose to do ?' 
 
 ' Well, if you have no objection, to draw a 
 cheque on your bankers.' 
 
 ' My bankers ! Certainly not. I overdrew 
 my account twenty pounds for my wedding ex- 
 penses, which I was going to ask you kindly to 
 pay up.'
 
 154 PROPOSALS. 
 
 ' That I am unable to do. We must wait till 
 your di\idends come in.' 
 
 ' Then we shall wait long enough. I had only 
 two thousand pounds left me by my late husband, 
 and that I spent properly, in living like a lady 
 and keeping up a respectable appearance.' 
 
 ' You don't mean seriously to tell me that you 
 had only two thousand pounds when you were 
 living at the rate of five thousand a year ? You 
 could not have been so deceitful as to marry a 
 man under such false pretences!' 
 
 ' Pretences, sir ! Why, you never asked me 
 about my means. And as you were doing so well 
 at the Bar, I thought of course .they were of no 
 consequence.' 
 
 ' Doing well, indeed ! I never said that. I 
 only said I had business; and if you had inquired, 
 I should have told you that the only solicitor that 
 employed me never paid any fees.' 
 
 ' And have 3-ou no capital ?' 
 
 ' None — except in debts !' 
 
 'Good heavens! — what an unprincipled man! 
 And I thought we were going to be so happy, 
 and have so much money. You are a heartless 
 deceiver ! And I gave up for you that rich Mr. 
 Blacking, the catsup-maker. What is to be done?' 
 
 * W' ell, madam, I think, after your conduct, you
 
 PROPOSALS. 155 
 
 had better go and live with some of your relations, 
 if any of them will take you. There can be no 
 use in our keeping up this farce of love any 
 longer !' 
 
 ' Thank you, sir. I find you can be uncivil as 
 well as dishonest. Allow me to advise you to 
 return to your lucrative profession !' 
 
 While this affectionate couple are settling 
 their arrangements, we will make a few general 
 observations. 
 
 Very few of the girls who are ready to make 
 imprudent marriages have any notion how to 
 economise small means so that they may yield 
 the greatest amount of comfort. And yet this is 
 the most important problem in life ; and we may 
 divide the world into good and bad managers. 
 ' A penny saved is a penny gained ' is a wise 
 proverb, for in the spending there is generally 
 little pleasure even at the moment. On all 
 sides people say they want money, and envy 
 those who have it ; but the fact that they are still 
 poor ought to show us that they are not in 
 earnest. No ; the things they really value are 
 those which money procures, and for which they 
 are ever ready to part with it. They want houses, 
 furniture, pictures, horses, rank, love, society, and 
 regard these as more important than coin. The
 
 156 PROPOSALS. 
 
 worship of the golden idol is not so general as 
 we might suppose from the din of the sackbut 
 and the psaltery. How often do we hear a 
 person descanting upon the value of money, and 
 telling us almost in the same breath that he has 
 expended a large sum upon some ridiculous 
 hobby ! 
 
 Taking, therefore, the view that people propose 
 to themselves many different objects in life, and 
 seldom that of accumulation, let us recommend 
 young men and women who are looking forward 
 to 'pairing time' to consider well and deliberately 
 what it is they desire. It would evidently be a 
 mistake for a girl, whose ideas of happiness centre 
 in love, to marry a morose old man because he is 
 rich, or for one who wishes to mix in society to 
 unite herself to a handsome young fellow who has 
 neither rank nor means. In the same way, a man 
 who prizes beauty above all things should not 
 marry an ill-favoured heiress ; nor should one 
 who desires to rise and make a figure in the 
 world think of uniting himself to a penniless wife. 
 A certain amount of sympathy in taste is always 
 essential. Let no one imagine that he can after- 
 wards bend and mould another to his views ; 
 rather let him seek one whose feelings naturally 
 harmonize with his own.
 
 SCENTS. 
 
 Mysterious spirits of the air, 
 Companions of the gay and fair, 
 Ye bring to me, hke evening chimes, 
 The memory of happy times. 
 
 How ye recall my childhood's play. 
 
 And scenes and faces far away ! 
 
 Across the magic bridge ye cast 
 
 I am transported to the Past. 
 
 Yes — in that well-remembered street 
 
 ' Sweet lavender !' mine ear would greet. 
 
 And in that garden — which I see — 
 
 I plucked the rose ior pot poitrri. 
 
 The fragrance of those distant flowers 
 
 Has slumbered on through stormy hours, 
 
 As petals, which my fancy took. 
 
 Have slept within that disused book. 
 
 There was a pre-historic time 
 When not a scent in any clime 
 Mellowed the gale, ere Flora's birth. 
 Whose balmy breath perfumes the earth.
 
 158 SCEjYTS. 
 
 But when she heralded mankind, 
 Of senses keen and tastes refined, 
 Like music from her Hps and soul 
 The varied scents began to roll. 
 
 Light linden airs, and fragrant hay 
 Refresh us through the summer-day, 
 And honeyed blossoms odours yield 
 In waves across the clover-field. 
 
 High skirting the eternal snow 
 The lonely perfumes richer grow, 
 Where far above the Alpine cot 
 Exhales the blue forget-me-not ; 
 While on the Andes' shining slope 
 Blooms the enchanting heliotrope — 
 So sweet, that Indians think it stands 
 Upon the verge of spirit lands. 
 
 Soft spells — unheard, unseen, though near 
 To evening and to lovers dear — 
 Ye come to me, from days of yore. 
 As when sweet breezes from the shore 
 Of spicy Java seem to sigh 
 To outward ships a sad ' Good-bye.'
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 There is something agreeable in contemplating 
 those who have been successful, and the pleasure 
 flows from our sympathy with the order of things, 
 and is like that of looking at a spreading tree or 
 lofty mountain. We are contemplating the 
 grandest results of the system under which w^e 
 live. Wonderful as are the floral and animal 
 creations with which God has enriched this earth, 
 we can look at nothing so marvellous as civilized 
 man — the product of ages — surrounded by the 
 achievements of his labours. And we feel sure 
 that he will accomplish something still greater in 
 time to come : and that those who successfully 
 rise above their fellows will lead the world on to 
 glorious destinies. 
 
 I propose to give some examples from what has 
 come under my own knowledge or that of my in- 
 timate friends. The persons to whom I shall allude 
 are all dead, but to avoid the risk of wounding
 
 i6o SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 susceptibilities, and give myself a free hand in 
 writing, I shall call the persons I am about to 
 describe Smith, Brown, Jones, and Robinson, 
 with the kind permission of those popular 
 heroes. 
 
 The first man I shall introduce — 'Smith ' — did 
 not, from the nature of his occupation, acquire 
 wealth hke the rest. He was apprenticed, when 
 very young, to a cobbler, or small shoemaker. 
 From his earliest years he had a great desire for 
 knowledge ; but, being all day hard at work on 
 soles and ' uppers,' he had little opportunity for 
 study. His master was an active, practical man, 
 and had no idea of allowing the boy to waste 
 time or candles upon reading books. So poor 
 Smith's only way of gratifying his ruling passion 
 was to save his halfpence, and buy candle-ends, 
 by lighting which, when he was supposed to be in 
 bed, he stole an occasional hour from his much 
 needed sleep. A still greater difficulty was the 
 purchase of books. Whenever he had a chance 
 he would betake himself to an old bookstall, and 
 look at the tempting display, as most boys do at 
 the ' goodies ' in confectioners' windows. Some 
 of the booksellers, seeing such a very poor little 
 boy constantly hovering about, began to have 
 some suspicion that his intentions were not
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 16 r 
 
 strictly honourable ; but still he continued to look 
 and lonf^, and he told me that he remembered 
 having sat down on a doorstep and shed tears 
 because he could not afford to buy a book he saw 
 on Natural Science. By means of his little 
 savings, however, he gradually began to make 
 some purchases ; and, when his apprenticeship 
 was over, he obtained more money, and gradually 
 acquired, without any teachers, a fair knowledge 
 of Latin, mathematics, botany, geology, and 
 chemistry. The discoveries of the microscope 
 especially attracted him, and as he could not 
 afford to buy one, he purchased some lenses, and 
 manufactured an instrument for himself. He was 
 fond of saying he made everything he had, even 
 the boxes in which he kept his specimens. His 
 collection of microscopic objects — amounting to 
 several thousands — was most interesting. People 
 often laughed at him, when they saw him ex- 
 amining the surfaces of stones, but he told them 
 that nothing was so bare that he could not find 
 something on it. His microscope magnified two 
 million times, and when he put on a high power 
 he was obliged to have his head fixed in a frame, 
 otherwise the motion would prevent his seeing. 
 One of the principal difficulties he encountered was 
 that he could not find appliances delicate enough 
 
 II
 
 1 62 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 for preparing his specimens, as the finest needle 
 looked thicker than a poker. His best in- 
 struments were formed of spiders' bones. He 
 had accumulated, before his death, a large amount 
 of curious knowledge, and informed me that he 
 had a theory, formed upon considerable observa- 
 tion, that flies cut a wise tooth. His knowledge 
 of these recondite subjects, and also of botany and 
 geology, became gradually known, and he received 
 an offer of a place in the British Museum worth 
 -£"300 a year ; but he preferred to remain in his 
 native town, where he obtained sufficient income 
 by lecturing at schools, and exhibiting his curi- 
 osities, to keep himself and his sister in comfort. 
 At his death he left a choice scientific library, 
 and bequeathed ;£'6oo to the Bristol Asylum for 
 the Blind. When last I saw him he was lamenting 
 the great increase of buildings, which obliged him 
 to walk long distances in search of botanical 
 specimens — for as some wildflowers, horehound 
 for instance, follow the footsteps of man, others 
 seem to fly from his approach. 
 
 Smith became quite a characteristic of the 
 neighbourhood in which he lived. I think that I 
 can see him now, walking along in his brown coat, 
 with his box in his hand. A rare figure of fun he 
 was — tall and thin. His head, which had but
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 163 
 
 little hair, was somewhat egg-shaped; his shoulders 
 were very narrow, and his legs greatly bowed, so 
 that his outline was not only comical, but conical. 
 His countenance, however, redeemed all the rest : 
 it was refined and intellectual ; his brow was 
 marked with deep thought, and his eyes were bright 
 and penetrating. 
 
 Brown was in early life the conductor of an 
 omnibus. An old commercial gentleman travelled 
 up to his business every day by that conveyance, 
 and became favourably impressed with the lad, 
 who was always remarkably polite and attentive, 
 as well as neatly dressed and good-looking. It 
 happened that the old gentleman parted with his 
 groom, and he thought he could not do better 
 than try whether this young man would take the 
 situation. 
 
 Some conductors might have thought the place 
 a little beneath them, but Brown was not that sort 
 of man ; he felt obliged to his patron, and would 
 not refuse the offer. In this decision he took the 
 tide at the turn. He found in his new vocation 
 time to improve his education, and the gentleman 
 when he heard how well he was employed, gave 
 him every facihty in his power. In the course of 
 some years he had made such progress that, a 
 
 II — 2
 
 1 64 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 junior clerkship falling vacant in the manufac- 
 turer's house, he was appointed to fill it. 
 
 Such men have this great advantage — that the 
 same industrious habits which raise them to the 
 first step continue to elevate them to the last. 
 Brown managed his part of the business so well 
 that he was soon promoted, and rose till he 
 became foreman. The direction of ever3'thing 
 was by degrees made over to him, and in a few 
 years he was admitted as a partner. The old 
 gentleman now retired with a good fortune, but, 
 strange to say, he lost it all, and finally was de- 
 pendent on the very man he had raised from 
 obscurity. Brown became very rich, and sat for 
 many years in Parliament, though not one of the 
 more prominent and combative members. In 
 private and in public he was a moderate, humble- 
 minded man — a gentleman in the best sense. 
 
 I have heard that his patron's family could not 
 easily forget his origin, and were supposed to look 
 a little superciliously at him. On one occasion he 
 was sitting at the dinner-table with some of them, 
 when a guest asked him if he could recommend a 
 groom. Mr. Brown said he thought he could, 
 and smiling over at one of his patron's relations, 
 said : ' I think you can certify that I perfectly 
 understand the duties.'
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 165 
 
 Jones was brought up at a charity school, with 
 which a rich citizen had endowed his native town. 
 On leaving it, he obtained a situation as an errand 
 boy, and owing to his carefulness and sagacity, 
 his master, who was an auctioneer, thought 
 him not unsuitable to take charge of his rooms 
 while articles were on view previous to sale. 
 From this he acquired some knowledge of the 
 business, and was soon able to make out the 
 inventories, and by degrees made himself an 
 excellent accountant. Thus, while still young — 
 though some people said he never was young — he 
 was promoted to be the auctioneer's assistant, and 
 in that position was brought into contact with 
 many persons in the town, who were so favourably 
 impressed with him that, when a clerkship was 
 vacant in the local bank, he was able to obtain 
 excellent recommendations. After this his course 
 was tolerably smooth. By sedulous attention to 
 his business he rose to be manager. When one 
 of the partners died, he married his widow, and 
 soon afterwards became one of the principals. 
 The natural kindness of his heart was always 
 reflected in his manners, though his language 
 seemed a little quaint, for to the last he never 
 altered his homely mode of speech. It is re- 
 markable how long the phraseology of early
 
 i66 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 life survives a change of circumstances. But 
 his conversation was highly interesting, for he 
 had known many of the eminent men of his time. 
 I remember his giving me a valuable piece of 
 advice, which I here pass on to others : * Now, 
 
 Mr. , never you put your money into a private 
 
 company : sure to come to " very sorry." ' 
 
 Towards the end of his life his hospitality was 
 profuse ; and he entertained sometimes the gentry, 
 and sometimes the tradespeople, giving them all 
 equally bountiful fare. 
 
 To the clergy he was most considerate, and he 
 willingly contributed his thousands to church 
 building. Not only was he generous to charitable 
 institutions, but he recommended several persons to 
 bequeath money to them : and, indeed, without such 
 munificence, most of them would languish, the 
 mass of the population^ subscribing nothing. In 
 the winter the doors of the bank were so 
 closely besieged by the indigent, eager to share — 
 not perhaps the good man's blessing, but his gifts 
 — that sometimes he could scarcely make his way 
 to his carriage. If he was somewhat indis- 
 criminate in his bounty, and 
 
 ' His pity gave, ere charity began,' 
 
 the giver was more blessed than the receiver.
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEX. 167 
 
 Many of Jones's friends wished him to enter 
 Pariiament, but he considered it his primary' duty 
 to attend to his business affairs. He took, however, 
 some interest in pohtics, and was one of those who 
 nominated Mr. DisraeH when he first obtained a 
 seat in the House. When I last saw my friend, 
 shortly before his death, the Conservatives were 
 in office. ' I have just seen Disraeli,' he said. *I 
 thought, as it was so long since we had met, that 
 he would have forgotten all about me, and I was 
 about to pass him, but he stopped, and held out 
 his hand, inquired kindly after my welfare and 
 that of my family, and told me that if ever he 
 could be of service to me it would give him the 
 greatest pleasure.' 
 
 The progress of Robinson was remarkable, from 
 the fact that he commenced life as a journeyman 
 tailor, and sat on the board for twenty years. 
 During this time he married, and had several 
 children ; and although his wages were only 
 eighteen shillings a week, he contrived to save 
 money. A friend proposed to him that they 
 should join in taking a seam of jet which had 
 been discovered near ^^'hitb3•, and the speculation 
 proved successful. Robinson's partner, however, 
 lived too fast, and scon getting into debt, was 
 glad to sell him his share in the business for
 
 i6S SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 ^1,000. The tailor now became independent, for 
 a considerable income could be realized by selling 
 small pieces of jet retail to the numerous carvers 
 of ornamental articles. Living in a busy port, he 
 became a shipowner, and his profits and good 
 nature may be estimated from the fact that one 
 captain had lost three of his ships. He told 
 me that he felt inclined to dismiss the man 
 upon his first misfortune, but retained him on 
 account of his wife and famil}-. He was doing a 
 large business, but he was also a man of taste 
 and acquirements, was well acquainted with 
 geology, and very fond of antiquities. His house 
 was a miniature museum, for the surrounding 
 farmers knew him, and brought him any curi- 
 osities they found. Here were urns, celts, flint 
 knives and sling stones, and a strange mixture of 
 things. He had himself ransacked all the neigh- 
 bouring fields with such success, that his wife told 
 me she one day threw out a large basketful of 
 stones he had accumulated. His industry soon 
 attracted attention, and one of the shrewd and 
 shaggy inhabitants of Agarlythe determined to 
 take advantage of him. This man went by the 
 name of Flint Jack, and, from being a vendor of 
 small antiquities to visitors, became a manufac- 
 turer of them.
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 169 
 
 One day as Robinson was wandering among" 
 the picturesque and infirm houses of Agarlythe, 
 an old dame told him, laughingly, that she had 
 seen a man making a stone sugar-loaf. Not many 
 days afterwards the lapidary (Flint Jack) called 
 upon him with something mysteriously wrapped 
 up under his arm. 
 
 ' I have found a great treasure, sir,' he began 
 solemnly ; ' a Roman mill. As you know the 
 value of these things, I brought it first for your 
 inspection.' 
 
 Robinson looked at the stone he produced, 
 which was well begrimed with earth and 
 moss. 
 
 ' Well, Jack,' he said, ' but it's imperfect; you 
 have only one stone of the mill You could not 
 grind corn with only one stone, could you ?' 
 
 ' Why, no, I suppose not,' he replied, smihng. 
 * What would the other stone be like, sir ?' 
 
 Robinson described it. 
 
 In two days the man arrived with it, made 
 according to what he had heard. 
 
 ' I've been most fortunate, sir. In digging 
 about the place where I found the top stone, I 
 have also found the lower.' 
 
 ' Let me look at it,' said Robinson, and began to 
 rub away some of the earth and moss.
 
 I70 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 ' Oh, you mustn't do tliat, sir,' said the man. 
 ' You'll make it look as if it was only just made.' 
 
 ' Which it has been,' returned Robinson. 
 ' You must go elsewhere with your spurious an- 
 tiquities.' 
 
 The next week he met an antiquary of his 
 acquaintance, who came up to him with a beaming 
 countenance. 
 
 ' You may congratulate me. I am a fortunate 
 man. I've just bought a real Roman mill. I've 
 had to pay a good price, though.' 
 
 ' Where did you get it ?' inquired Robinson. 
 
 ' Oh, from FHnt Jack. He says it is the finest 
 specimen that ever was found. Both stones are 
 perfect — upper and lower.' 
 
 I have seldom met a man immersed as Robinson 
 was in the cares of commercial business who 
 took so great an interest in scientific studies. He 
 lamented his ignorance of botany, and when I 
 went with him to look at the geological formations 
 in his neighbourhood, would often stop and ask 
 me the name of some wayside flower. 
 
 Let me here observe, for the benefit of other 
 aspirants, that all these men were thrifty, 
 courteous, energetic, and persevering. They had 
 common sense and reflexion ; but men of greater 
 talent, marred by caprice, have been altogether
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 171 
 
 failures. Thrift is necessary — if Smith had not 
 saved his pence he could not have bought books or 
 candle-ends, nor could Robinson have purchased 
 his jet seam without a little store of gold. If Brown 
 had been off-hand and independent in his manners, 
 he would never have been promoted. Some of the 
 best men are shy and reserved, or familiar, and 
 so do not obtain credit for the good b.cart they 
 possess. But nothing is more detrimental than 
 to be sarcastic, and ' lose a friend for a joke,' 
 except to be a scandalmonger. To speak ill of 
 neighbours is not only immoral, but most im- 
 politic. The ungracious tale is often whispered 
 by malicious tongues to the subject of it, and 
 everyone suspects that the man who will malign 
 one friend will also speak lightly of another. 
 Among things antagonistic to success in life may 
 be placed early marriages, roving about, ' re- 
 sources,' and amusements generally. Whatever, 
 in short, leads to expense, encourages idleness, 
 and diverts the mind from the main object. The 
 more precautions we take the less we leave to 
 chance, but still success must be always partly 
 accidental. 
 
 Generally it is desirable that a man should 
 follow the vocation for which he has a natural 
 bent, and we may add that few will persevere in
 
 172 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 working against the grain. The amount of a 
 man's occupation depends upon the interest he 
 takes in it. One who is following out a pet 
 scheme will tell you that he is busy from morning 
 till night ; while another, in an uncongenial em- 
 ployment, will be looking for holidays, have his 
 mind vacant, and be practically idle. But a wise 
 man will often bend his tastes into agreement 
 with his w^elfare. A large number of people would 
 like to earn their liveHhood by literature, painting, 
 or music : but such vocations are only suitable to 
 men of private means. One in five hundred may 
 succeed in them, but even Trollope would have 
 failed only for his indomitable perseverance, and a 
 clerkship in the Post-office, which supported him 
 during the first ten years of authorship. 
 
 The fine arts are much less remunerative than 
 professions. I have seen a man in rags sketching 
 with considerable taste upon the London flags, 
 and I have heard a musician playing in the street 
 whose touch bespoke life-long stud}', and who 
 afterwards came round with his hat to beg for 
 pence. The truth is that pleasant work is not 
 lucrative ; a man must be paid for blacking boots, 
 but no one will fee him for drinking a glass of 
 champagne. For this reason, political occupa- 
 tions are not remunerative, and few statesmen
 
 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 173 
 
 end their lives with more than they originally 
 possessed. 
 
 Men are not kept down, but elevated by 
 those who rise. Those who make mone}' 
 supply something desirable ; and as the lark, 
 which soars into the sky, and pours forth its 
 delicious melody, gives the listener more delight 
 than it receives itself, so the treasures of the rich 
 often afford more pleasure to the spectator than 
 to the actual proprietor. It would be well that 
 the affluent generally recognised this fact ; and, 
 by regarding themselves as stewards and trustees, 
 their possessions would have a value for them 
 they never had before. There are, indeed, many 
 who, at certain times, liberally throw open their 
 parks and mansions, and give great enjoyment 
 to the masses of the people. 
 
 All, alas ! cannot be kings, and most men dis- 
 cover by degrees that their fortunes are not 
 destined to be magnificent. With the majority 
 that remain stationary or recede, ' Youth is a 
 blunder, and age a regret.' They are almost 
 ready to exclaim in the words of the poet, 
 
 ' Oh, thou voice within my breast, 
 Why entreat me ? why persuade me ? 
 When the steadfast tongues of truth, 
 And the flattering hopes of youth, 
 Have all deceived me and betrayed me.'
 
 174 SUCCESSFUL MEN. 
 
 It may console such to reflect that those who 
 really succeed are never satisfied, and seldom con- 
 sider themselves altogether fortunate. They have 
 not won the good they desired : perhaps it existed 
 only in their imaginations. Happily, as we 
 advance in life, our desires are moderated. In 
 the morning a man sets forth bright, hopeful, and 
 energetic, but as the shades of evening close 
 around him, and the time approaches when none 
 can work, he feels a languor and satiety stealing 
 over him, with a longing for repose. And so, 
 as age draws on, and we see the impossibility of 
 obtaining the prizes we once hoped for, we also 
 feel, by a kindly dispensation, less anxiety for 
 their acquisition.
 
 THE OAK. 
 
 How grandly spreads the stately oak 
 
 Its giant arms around, 
 With countless sprays and filaments 
 
 Above and underground. 
 
 That tree against the hurricane 
 
 For centuries has stood, 
 For ages it will still remain, 
 
 A history in wood. 
 
 The cavalier in rich array 
 Beneath its branches came, 
 
 And made a courtly reverence 
 To his brocaded dame. 
 
 But if to grace her glossy hair 
 
 He gaily plucked a leaf. 
 Thy ceaseless register was there 
 
 To criminate the thief. 
 
 And every season as it flies 
 
 Is noted dry or wet, 
 With every ill and injury 
 
 In rings and fissures set.
 
 176 THE OAK. 
 
 So in the growth of human h'fe 
 
 A history appears, 
 Of joyous love and hateful strife, 
 
 Of laughter and of tears. 
 
 Each whim indulged has left a scar. 
 Each curbed desire a grace, 
 
 All habits formed have set their lines 
 Engraven on the face. 
 
 And whoso reads the lore aright, 
 In mystic symbols wrought, 
 
 Will find his destiny inscribed 
 Upon the leaves of thought. 
 
 The greedy soul has store of gold, 
 But neither friends nor fame, 
 
 The genius shivers in the cold, 
 Although he owns a flame. 
 
 And as we see the mind of man 
 
 Reflected in his state, 
 So each bequeaths some good or ill 
 
 Beyond his estimate. 
 
 The humblest in the world's account 
 
 May shed a little ray, 
 To light the toiling traveller 
 
 Upon his homeward way.
 
 YACHTING. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An Island Romance. 
 
 LUNDY consists of a mass of rock some four or five 
 hundred feet in height, standing at the mouth of 
 the Bristol Channel, and forming a gigantic 
 natural breakwater against the waves of the 
 Atlantic Ocean. The fury of the gale is some- 
 times here so great that it sweeps away the roofs 
 of houses, and carries them, I am told, a distance 
 of a quarter of a mile. I have seen workmen blown 
 into the yards of houses there. The land is 
 mostly in pasture, and nothing aspiring to the 
 name of a tree can be seen in the whole island, 
 yet the slopes and crags are bright with wild- 
 fiowers ; the scabious wears its deepest blue, and 
 the honeysuckle exhales its sweetest perfume. 
 But everything is in miniature. The wild roses 
 
 12
 
 178 YACHTING. 
 
 bloom six inches from the ground, and the fox- 
 glove seems to suit the measure of the little 
 * folk ' after whom it is named. 
 
 When I visited Lundy the granite company 
 was in existence, and there were three hundred 
 quarrymen living there. I was compelled by 
 stress of weather to stay in the island for ten days, 
 and was accommodated with very inhospitable 
 apartments, without carpet, blind, or bedstead, in 
 one of the stone-cutters' cottages. Some furniture 
 was brought up from the yacht, and by degrees I 
 arranged matters, became accustomed to the 
 rough life, and made acquaintance with some of 
 the inhabitants. 
 
 Among those I met was an old sailor, who had 
 served upwards of forty years in the navy, had 
 retired with a pension, and was regarded as a 
 great authorit3^ He was a man of cyclopean 
 build — a veritable sea monster. Masses of thick 
 shaggy hair grew wild upon his head and face, 
 and he wore that grand but good-humoured 
 expression which we usually assign to the British 
 lion. I observed him striding across the moors, 
 regardless of rain or storm, accompanied only 
 by his heavy staff, or rather pole, and a large 
 Newfoundland dog. I soon discovered that he 
 was a 'character'; his habits, address, and ideas
 
 AN ISLAND ROMANCE. 179 
 
 according well with his appearance. He knew 
 the favourite haunts of the falcon and gannet, 
 and how to surprise the seal in its dark abode. 
 Towns he abhorred ; the fresh sea-breezes braced 
 his frame, the expanse of sea and sky inspired his 
 soul. To place him, he said, in a street among 
 houses and smoke would be like caging one of the 
 free birds that flew around those crags. He 
 seemed sensible and straightforward, and I never 
 should have supposed that a man of such elevated 
 views could have been affected by human weak- 
 ness. I should have thought him as proof as St. 
 Anthony against all the charms of the fair ; but, 
 alas for human frailty ! he was not — 
 
 ' So good or so cold, 
 As not to be tempted by woman or gold.' 
 
 This sea-girt rock bore a lovely maid — a 
 bright wild-flower — upon its rugged breast. She 
 was the only child of one of the principal in- 
 habitants, and was the spoiled pet, not only of 
 her parents, but more or less of the whole island. 
 
 It was about two years before our arrival that 
 the old seaman had discovered this airy retreat, 
 so congenial to his tastes, and the islanders had 
 congratulated themselves on his establishment 
 among them. A man who had visited all parts 
 of the globe in the service of Government during 
 
 12 — 2
 
 I So YACHTING. 
 
 forty years was no small acquisition where there 
 was so little variety and information. To no one 
 was his advent more welcome than to Maria's 
 father, who was tired of the dull society of un- 
 educated labourers ; and many a long winter 
 evening did they wear out pleasantly together 
 over the bright hearth, while the veteran narrated, 
 to the admiration of the little household, the 
 dangers he had encountered and the wonders he 
 had seen. The old sailor seemed to appreciate the 
 quiet family and their homely cheer, and became a 
 constant visitor at all hours of the day, while Mr. 
 Dupper (such was his name) thought himself highly 
 complimented at the condescension of so great an 
 authority. He accounted for it, slyly, by observing 
 that his visitor was very fond of telling his stories ; 
 a correct surmise, for it afforded exercise not 
 only to his memory, but also to his invention. 
 
 At length success rewarded his exertions. One 
 afternoon Maria did not return to dinner at the 
 usual hour ; her parents waited and waited, but 
 without avail. Such an absence had never 
 occurred before, and not being able to find her 
 anywhere in the neighbourhood, the horrible 
 thought suggested itself that she had fallen over 
 the cliffs ; such an accident might happen — it 
 often did to the cattle grazing along the slopes.
 
 AN ISLAND ROMANCE. i8i 
 
 Bewildered and powerless from apprehension, the 
 father at once thought of applying to the old 
 sailor for advice and assistance. He made his 
 way to his house, but when he arrived found 
 the door fastened, and no one within to answer 
 his demands. He looked all along the cliffs on 
 the north of the island, thence made inquiries at 
 the quarries ; walked to the very edge of the 
 ' Limekiln's ' abyss ; and finally proceeded in 
 despair to the landing-place. There he learned 
 the real cause of his daughter's absence. She 
 had eloped with the old sailor, and crossed to 
 the mainland in the skiff, which had just left. 
 Pursuit was impossible, as there was no com- 
 munication except twice a week, and that by this 
 very packet. The father was furious, the mother 
 inconsolable, and not even comforted by a letter, 
 which had been left for her by her daughter, 
 stating that they were to be married next day, 
 and that she would return in a week. She vowed 
 that she would hold no communication with the 
 perfidious wretch who had thus violated the laws 
 of hospitality, or with her daughter, who had 
 connived at such disgraceful conduct. By degrees, 
 however, she became more resigned, and felt that 
 she could not entirely discard her only child ; but 
 still she spoke with an almost unnatural acerbity
 
 1 82 YACHTING. 
 
 on the subject, and told me that she would sooner 
 have seen her daughter dead than married to 
 such an old man, and that her only consolation 
 was that the doctor had informed her that Maria 
 would not, under any circumstances, have lived 
 more than a few years. The daughter, whom I 
 frequently saw, did not appear to take such a 
 dismal view of affairs. She was too much 
 occupied in dancing her baby to think of any- 
 thing else, and as for the captain, he bore his age 
 as lightly as old Charon, and was a remarkably 
 hale and jovial fellow. 
 
 Lundy enjoys one advantage, which later 
 events have led me more fully to appreciate. 
 There are no ' patriots ' there. I may say there 
 could be none. No one could set his foot on that 
 rock and say, ' This is my own, my native land.' 
 I was told that no one was ever born there, for 
 that when the women became * interesting ' they 
 always crossed over to the neighbouring coast. 
 There is a considerable amount of fish in the sea 
 about Lundy, and between this and Tenby they 
 dredge up the ' Tenby ' oysters. The place 
 swarms with seabirds, and our men were con- 
 stantly collecting the eggs, which were in flavour 
 like ducks' eggs. The shell is white, covered over 
 with curious marks, hieroglyphics of the sea, and
 
 AN ISLAND ROMANCE. 183 
 
 two are never found alike. When the gale had 
 passed and the weather became fine, I rowed 
 round with my companions, Mr. and Mrs. Wilt- 
 shire, to visit the large caves on the north-west 
 of the island. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Coast of Ireland — A Nationalist. 
 
 The night on which we sailed from Youghal to 
 Cork was beautifully clear — ' as clear as a bell,' to 
 use old Tom's expression. The moon shone high 
 in the heavens, and the coasts and headlands 
 stood out in bold relief. Cable Island with its 
 tower, and Ballycotton Island with its lighthouse 
 were soon passed, and now, rounding Poer Head, 
 we pass through a narrow channel and enter the 
 Cove of Cork — a magnificent hill-girdled expanse, 
 lit up by the lights of vessels as by clusters and 
 lines of stars. 
 
 Brown objected to our proceeding to Cork, as 
 once when his father moored alongside the quay 
 there they lost many articles out of the vessel. 
 The depredations were generally committed 
 during the night, and his father at length taxed 
 his ingenuity and invented means of detection, 
 consisting of rows of fishing-lines and hooks con-
 
 1 84 YACHTING. 
 
 nccted with bells set round the bulwarks and 
 across the decks. This device proved successful. 
 At midnight the bells rung out an awakening peal. 
 Old Brown rushed up the companion-ladder with 
 his gun and let fly, and, although he hit nobod}-, 
 he brought down his man. The thief had pro- 
 ceeded so noiselessh' that he had actually been 
 able to detach the stove without being heard, and 
 had fastened it with straps across his back. But 
 as he was in the act of passing over the plank to 
 the shore with it, he came in contact with some 
 part of the alarum, and the report of the gun im- 
 mediately following, startled him so much that he 
 fell into the water, and being unable to disengage 
 himself from the stove, he sank to the bottom and 
 was drowned. 
 
 It was not surprising that with such unpleasant 
 reminiscences as these Brown should be unwilling 
 to lie at Cork, and we accordingly anchored at 
 Passage. The da}' after our arrival the wind 
 shifted to the south, and so strong a gale set in 
 that, although within the Cove, the waves rose 
 very high, the men were obliged to sit up all 
 night, and it became evident that if we wished to 
 be comfortable we must betake ourselves to what 
 Brown called the ' best ship ' — i.e., terra firma. 
 We accordingly proceeded to the hotel and con-
 
 THE COAST OF IRELAND. 185 
 
 gratulated ourselves on obtaining rooms, for it 
 was nearly full. We ordered dinner at seven, 
 and in the meantime strolled along the quay to 
 look at the crowd of emigrants preparing to 
 embark for America. Their habiliments and 
 ' properties ' were of the most strange and non- 
 descript character. Most of them seemed op- 
 pressed with grief at the prospect of leaving the 
 ' ould counthry.' Some were surrounded by 
 friends and relations, and openly gave way to 
 their feelings ; while here and there a man or 
 woman would be seen sitting alone in silent and 
 thoughtful sadness — the very picture of desola- 
 tion. The panting noise of the little steam tender 
 seemed a relief to the scene, and soon all was 
 bustle, and most of the emigrants were safe on 
 board of her, and were steering for the great 
 black ship in the distance. 
 
 We could not help remarking the demonstrative 
 manner in which the people wished each other 
 ' good-b3-e,' and thought it especially strange that 
 not only the women but the men should be 
 kissing each other. One old woman especially 
 attracted our attention. She was sitting on a 
 stone and swaying herself backward and forward. 
 I asked her whether she were going to emigrate. 
 
 ' No, sir,' she replied ; ' but I'm thinking of my
 
 i86 YACHTING. 
 
 only son, who's going to join his brother in 
 America.' 
 
 ' America is a better country than this,' I 
 replied. ' But I can feel for you. It is sad to be 
 so far removed from those we love.' 
 
 * Shure, an' it isn't the distance I'm thinking 
 about at all — at all,' returned she. ' It's the 
 danger in crossing the say — perhaps he might be 
 dhrowned. I suppose you've been on the say, 
 sir ?' 
 
 ' I should fancy so,' I replied, thinking of my 
 voyages across the channel. ' I am often at sea 
 — the ocean's my home.' 
 
 ' The Lord have mercy on you, sir ! I suppose 
 you'd think nothing of going to America and 
 back ?' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing whatever.' 
 
 ' Lord preserve you, sir ! but you're a fine 
 gintleman ! The poor people hereabouts have a 
 great dread of the say ; and when anyone is 
 \ going to emigrate, they follow them through all 
 
 the village screechin' and bawlin' for fear they'd 
 be dhrowned, and sometimes there's a regular 
 funeral.' 
 
 We took a general survey of the picturesque 
 neighbourhood, and returned to the hotel, accord- 
 ing to appointment, at seven. We seemed, how-
 
 A NATIONALIST. 1S7 
 
 ever, to have arrived too soon, and seven o'clock 
 struck, and a quarter, and half-past, and still 
 there were no signs of dinner. We had lunched 
 on board somewhat earlier than usual, and began 
 to feel impatient ; but we applied in vain to the 
 bell, for no response could be obtained. At length, 
 at a quarter to eight, the waiter appeared open- 
 mouthed, as if he could not imagine why we were 
 making such a disturbance. A glance sufficed to 
 convince us that we had been committed to the 
 mercies of a ' character ' — an Irish character — 
 one of those specimens with which the green isle 
 abounded in the good old days of Spencer, when 
 the glibb* and mantle were in fashion, and the 
 pooka and lurikeen-j- haunted the mountains, but 
 which in these levelling times of steam and book- 
 learning are fast fading from our path. He was 
 a short stubbed man, with a great shock of black 
 hair. 
 
 ' Dinner !' I exclaimed impatiently, taking out 
 my watch. ' Dinner ! It now only wants a 
 quarter to eight, and I ordered dinner for seven. 
 I am as hungry as I can be.' 
 
 'Are you, sir?' he replied complacently, flicking 
 a fly from the table. ' I'm very glad to hear it ; 
 it's a sign of good health.' 
 
 '" Longhair. t Sprites.
 
 i8K YACHTING. 
 
 ' Oh, I dare say it's a very good joke, but it's 
 bad fun to be kept waiting an hour for one's 
 dinner. When will it be ready?' 
 
 ' Faith, sir, and that's more than I can tell you. 
 It's all the cook's fault, sir. Between you and I, 
 sir, the cook's a slow man, but he's a sure one, 
 sir — he's a sure one.' 
 
 Finding that expostulation was useless, we 
 became resigned, and -determined to thank our 
 stars if anything eatable appeared before mid- 
 night. The little man appeared to have an 
 immensity of work on his hands, and as the 
 corridors were very long, and his legs very short, 
 and his head, though large, not of the kind likely 
 to save his heels, he probably had more to do 
 than he could well perform. Shortly after eight, 
 however, he appeared with a tureen of vegetable 
 soup, followed by an immense joint of beef, which 
 he had great difficulty in placing on the table, 
 and at which, when he had accomplished the 
 feat, he looked with great admiration, observing 
 that it was an Irish joint — ' cut and come again.' 
 Next came a most unnatural chicken, inasmuch 
 as it had three legs and only one wing, and finally 
 a savoury omelette, which was well made. 
 
 The little man became meanwdiile very com- 
 municative, and as we were strangers we were
 
 A NATIONALIST. 189 
 
 glad of any information he chose to impart. He 
 told us that four emigrant ships left Cork every 
 week, carrying nearly three thousand people. 
 
 ' Faith, and it's a pity to see them laving the 
 fine counthry, for there isn't a finer counthry in 
 the world, sir, and all because of the landlords 
 and the bad government. Why, do you know, 
 sir, that if a man here don't pay his rint, they 
 think nothing of turning him out of his farm, and 
 maybe he hasn't got anywhere else to go to.' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' I replied ; ' but if the rent is fair, 
 they ought not to complain of that.' 
 
 ' Sure, sir, and isn"t it a shame to be turning 
 honest men out, and all because of the palthry 
 vint ? If anyone was to turn me out, I'd shoot 
 him as soon as look at him 1' he added, burst- 
 ing out into a horse laugh. 
 
 ' I'm glad, then,' I observed, ' if most of the 
 Irish think as you do, there are so many police 
 about.' 
 
 ' Oh! the p'lice is it? Faith, then, I don't much 
 hould to them. I think they're a decaitful sort 
 of people. They never let anyone know before- 
 hand what they are going to do. Sure and isn't 
 it a pity to see all the finest of bafe and mutton 
 going out of the counthry, and they themselves 
 living on Ingin mail ?'
 
 iQo YACHTING. 
 
 ' I thought,' I interposed, ' that the people 
 principally ate potatoes ?' 
 
 ' No, sir, Ingin mail. And to see all them 
 beautiful pigs going away, and they starvin' 
 themselves to feed thim, and not able to enjoy 
 thim after all !' 
 
 ' It is,' I replied, ' very unfortunate, and I 
 think the state of things deserves the attention of 
 government. But no real improvement will ever 
 be wrought in any country, unless the people 
 depend on their own exertions.' 
 
 (I should here observe that during this con- 
 versation several bells were heard ringing in 
 different parts of the house.) 
 
 ' I think,' added Mrs. Wiltshire, who had not 
 quite forgotten the long time w-e had been 
 kept waiting, ' that the Irish are not very 
 thoughtful.' 
 
 ' No, they're not, ma'am. They're too nawble 
 minded to think about trifles. They're a nawble 
 minded people, ma'am. It's a grand thing for a 
 man, while he ates his breakfast, not to know 
 where he'll get his dinner or supper. An English- 
 man, when he is ating one mail, w^ould be thinking 
 of another.' (The bells now began to ring more 
 violently.) 
 
 * It's a pity, sir, to see such fine people desertin'
 
 A NATIONAL/ST. 191 
 
 the counthry ; and the worst of all is that wher- 
 ever they go they call them Irish.' 
 
 ' Some of the emigrants return from America,' 
 do the}' not ?' 
 
 ' They do, sir. The climate sometimes does 
 not agree with their system, for they're laving 
 the most beautiful climate in the world.' 
 
 ' Yes : I believe the temperature here is very 
 agreeable. You have no frost or snow ?' 
 
 ' Oh, plinty, sir, plinty of frost and snow, but 
 frost and snow is not cold in Ireland. It's an 
 iligant climate, sir, and a line soil,— a land flow- 
 ing with milk and honey, as Tommy Moore says ; 
 and to see such a counthry filled with these 
 absentees !' 
 
 ' But you have some good residents, some 
 patriotic men. There is Mr. Maguire. Is he a 
 man of property ?' 
 
 ' Faith, an' he's not, sir. He's always dragging 
 the devil by the tail.' 
 
 ' That must be an unpleasant occupation. 
 Well, you've Mr. Donomore,' 
 
 • Mr. Donomore ? Shure, and he's a beautiful 
 man, sir; he's something like you, sir, and he can 
 trace his pidigree up to Noah's ark. He's a 
 thorough Irishman, just the same to the poor 
 man as to the rich. A manlike me might go and
 
 192 YACHTING. 
 
 shake hands with him in the House of Parhament, 
 and maybe when I'd turn my back he'd be talking 
 to a Duke or a Marquis.' 
 
 ' Is he w'ell off?' I inquired. 
 
 * Begad, he's not, sir. But he wants plent}' of 
 money, for he's a fine gintlcman, sir. Didn't he 
 drive eight horses when he was over there in 
 France ?' 
 
 ' Eight horses ! That must have been very 
 expensive.' 
 
 ' Very, sir — that's his nawble sperrit, sir. 
 You can't subdue the nawble sperrit of an Irish- 
 man.' 
 
 The house was by this time in a complete 
 uproar ; doors were heard opening, bells were 
 ringing, and cries of 'Waiter !' were resounding on 
 all sides. 
 
 ' Faith, and I believe it's me they're calling ! 
 exclaimed the little man, as if a new thought had 
 just occurred to him, and, slapping his leg, he 
 disappeared from the room with an expression of 
 indescribable drollery. 
 
 A large part of the county Cork belongs to the 
 Duke of Devonshire, an excellent landlord, erring, 
 if at all, on the side of generosity. These lands 
 were once the property of the Earl of Desmond, a 
 man of English descent, but whose family, like
 
 THE SOUTH OF IRELAND. 193 
 
 many others, became rebellious when settled in 
 these outlying districts. He was a wild, unedu- 
 cated and tyrannical man, little different from the 
 old Irish people by whom he was surrounded. 
 On being defeated, he lost his property, which 
 was given to Captain Raleigh for his services. 
 Thus the county became connected with that 
 eminent man, who is said to have resided as 
 Governor at Youghal. His house is still known 
 there — unpretending, though suitable for one of 
 taste and refinement, its inconsiderable size and 
 Elizabethan gablets give it externally the appear- 
 ance of a large cottage ; but upon entering, the 
 breadth of the staircase, with its massive oaken 
 balusters, and the arrangement and proportions of 
 the panelled rooms, are such as to produce a striking 
 effect. One high chimneypiece is especially prized, 
 for in the centre of its carved embellishments 
 there is a remarkable head, supposed to represent 
 Raleigh and to have been taken from life. The 
 house now belongs to Sir Pope Hennessey. 
 Higher up the 
 
 ' Swift Awniduff, by Saxons called Blackwater,' 
 stand the commanding heights and towers of 
 Lismore. Here is another memory of the great 
 man, not indeed in the battlement and lordly hall, 
 but in an old portion of the building which reminds 
 
 13
 
 194 YACHTING. 
 
 US of the modest house at Youghal. On the banks 
 of a river which flows alongside the Blackwater, and 
 is therefore called the Bride, we found another in- 
 teresting souvenir. The owner of the Castle of 
 Lisfinney — Major Croker, a worthy descendant of 
 a family long settled here — was wearing a watch 
 which once belonged to Raleigh. It is a curious 
 and elaborate specimen of antique workmanship, 
 large and heavy ; and the outer gold cases have 
 been reduced by constant wear to the tenuity 
 of silver-paper. Those old watchmakers must 
 have done their work well, for it still kept time 
 excellently, although the owner's father took so little 
 care of it that he frequently carried it with him 
 in the hunting-field. 
 
 Boyle found in Ireland the El Dorado which 
 Raleigh in vain sought on the Spanish main. He 
 was a law student, too poor to complete his 
 course, and so became a clerk to Sir Richard 
 Manwood, in the Court of Exchequer. But 
 being a man of great energy, he soon resigned his 
 goose-quill and determined to try his fortunes in 
 the wild West. He arrived in Ireland just three 
 hundred years ago, on June 23, 1588, and thus 
 enumerates his worldly possessions on landing : 
 * A taffata doublet and a pair of velett breeches, a 
 new sute of laced ffustian, cutt upon taffata, a
 
 THE SOUTH OF IRELAND. 195 
 
 bracelett of g^old worth x/., a diamond ring, 
 and xxvii/. iiis. in money in my purse.' Starting 
 with this slender capital, he rose so rapidly 
 that in a few years he was able to purchase 
 Raleigh's estates. But he not only made good 
 bargains in land : he promoted manufactures, 
 especially iron-works, and built churches and 
 schools — in short, transformed the face of the 
 country. He elevated the people as well as 
 himself, and now sleeps beneath a monument of 
 sculptured alabaster in the church beside 
 Raleigh's house at Youghal. His son built a 
 great part of Lismore Castle, and in the middle 
 of the last century the daughter and heiress of 
 the line married the Duke of Devonshire, by 
 which the property passed to the Cavendish family. 
 
 The late Duke seems to have succeeded, not 
 only to the possessions, but also to the ambition 
 of the ' great Earl ' of Cork. His palatial build- 
 ings at Chatsworth are well known, and his great 
 structures of glass, superintended by his gar- 
 dener Paxton, may have suggested the Crystal 
 Palace. 
 
 Towards the end of his life the Duke lived 
 much at Lismore. On his return from England, 
 as he passed in his carriage and four through the 
 crowded streets, he was hailed with enthusiastic 
 
 13 — 2
 
 196 YACHTING. 
 
 acclamations, and the night was not allowed to 
 pass without a general illumination. He was 
 usually accompanied on his visit by a large 
 party of friends, who made the halls of the old 
 castle ring with festive revelry, and, in short, as 
 the master of the hotel observed to me, ' had he 
 lived a few years longer he would have made 
 Lismore Lismore.' But he was not content with 
 mere hospitality : he always left behind some 
 trace of his constructive and renovating hand. 
 He transformed, by his golden wand, the heavy 
 stronghold of the Earl of Cork into an enchanted 
 castle. He raised the towers, and clothed the 
 interior walls with Moorish and Alhambraic splen- 
 dours. There was always some improvement in 
 progress, much to his satisfaction, more to that of 
 his workpeople. These constant alterations, how- 
 ever, were not only vastly expensive, but some- 
 times caused inconvenience. I heard a story very 
 characteristic of the time and place. One of the 
 Duke's coachmen and a footman were accustomed 
 to precede him from England, and on one occa- 
 sion had to be quartered at an hotel in the town, 
 as their usual apartments were being ' improved.' 
 Next day the Duke's agent — to whose watchful 
 care he owed much — met one of these men walk- 
 ing about the town.
 
 THE SOUTH OF IRELAND. 197 
 
 * Well, James,' he said, ' how did you fare at the 
 hotel ? Everything comfortable ? I hope they 
 gave you a good dinner.' 
 
 ' Well, yes, sir,' replied the man in livery. ' We 
 have no fault to find with the cooking.' 
 
 ' And,' continued the good-natured agent, 'they 
 gave you some wine ? I ordered a bottle of sherry 
 for you, as it was the first day.' 
 
 ' Sherry, sir ?' replied the man superciliously. 
 ' Yes, sir — hem — they certainly did give us a 
 bottle of sherry ; but, to say the truth, it's a wine 
 that neither I nor Smith cares for.' 
 
 * Indeed ! I am surprised to hear that.' 
 ' No, sir ; we prefers champagne.' 
 
 ' Champagne ! Are you at all aware of the 
 price of it ?' 
 
 ' Can't say as I am, sir. W^e haven't nothing 
 to do with the 'ousekeeping.' 
 
 ' Well, I'll tell you. It's at least ten shillings 
 a bottle ' (the duty was then high), * and I am 
 certainly not going to order it for you.' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir ! It will not be necessary for you, 
 sir,' returned the other blandly. ' We shall order 
 it for ourselves. We are always accustomed to 
 have it at home, and we are sure his grace would 
 not like us to be without it here.' 
 
 We might at first suppose that this was some
 
 198 YACHTING. 
 
 attempt at imposition, but the Duke was princely 
 in his profusion. Peer and peasant were treated 
 by him with equal hospitality. He celebrated his 
 visits to Lismore by a series of balls, not only for 
 the nobility and gentry, but for the tradespeople 
 and even the labouring classes, and made no in- 
 vidious distinctions in the provision he made for 
 their cofmort. He was always present, and made 
 a point of leading off with one of the best-looking 
 girls. Even when old and infirm, and no longer 
 able to trip it to light measures himself, he still 
 showed the pleasure he took in the enjoyment of 
 others by having his chair placed in the ball-room, 
 where he could witness the gay scene. He often 
 made handsome presents ; but perhaps the little 
 articles he turned upon his own lathe, though of 
 small intrinsic value, were the most prized. 
 
 The present generation of Irishmen are a great 
 improvement upon their fathers in appearance 
 and phj'sique. It is surprising that such a fine 
 body of men should be raised on mere potatoes 
 and milk. Their weakness is unfortunately in 
 their judgment, and the average of lunacy is high. 
 Many of the children are good looking, and some 
 of the girls are remarkably handsome until they 
 approach twenty-five, when they generally begin 
 to fade. You never hear an Irishman speak of a
 
 THE SOUTH OF IRELAND. 199 
 
 ' fine woman,' but always of a ' pretty girl;' and if 
 he mentions an elderly woman he usually speaks 
 of her with disparagement, even when he dees 
 not ungallantly call her an ' old hag.' The virtue 
 of Irish women has been sufficiently commended 
 in song, and they have been praised at the expense 
 of their English sisters ; but such comparisons 
 are unjust. There are few large towns in Ireland, 
 the priests strongly condemn profligacy, and con- 
 sidering everything, I think there is small cause 
 for such invidious laudation. 
 
 In the course of conversation with the Irish 
 peasantry, I have observed that many of their 
 peculiar expressions are really old English forms, 
 which have become obsolete here. Among them I 
 may notice the use of the ejaculation * Faith ' and 
 ' I'm in dread,' meaning ' I am afraid,' and ' to 
 make a compliment ' — that is, to give a present. 
 Languages are always affected by geographical 
 position. In America and Australia, as well as 
 in England, many new words are being intro- 
 duced ; and the time will come when the lan- 
 guages will be foreign to each other.
 
 200 YACHTING. 
 
 ERIN. 
 
 There lies an island in the sea, 
 Off England's western shore, 
 
 Famous for arms and minstrelsy 
 And legendary lore. 
 
 This lovely land in ancient days 
 Much favour found with God, 
 
 And saints and hermits all its ways 
 With holy feet have trod. 
 
 The soil is bright with emerald hues 
 Not elsewhere ever seen ; 
 
 Nature herself appears to choose 
 The ' wearing of the green.' 
 
 Sprightly Euphrosyne is there 
 
 And Wit's ecstatic soul. 
 And Genius with her garlands rare 
 
 To crown the flowing bowl. 
 
 Alas ! that words and deeds unkind 
 Should mar such magic powers ; 
 
 We seek the honey-bee, but find 
 A wasp among the flowers.
 
 ERIN. 
 
 Why should contentions in the land 
 
 Thy heavenly face defile ? 
 We offer thee a loyal hand, 
 
 Oh ! meet us with a smile ! 
 
 Thy sons have borne Britannia's shield 
 And shone with her in glory : 
 
 Linked with her fate in many a field 
 Of ne'er-forgotten story. 
 
 The islands are the same in speech, 
 The same in genial weather ; 
 
 Then let us not create a breach 
 Where God hath joined together. 
 
 Let old dissensions be forgot 
 
 In union and repose, 
 And friendship bind with silken knot 
 
 The shamrock to the rose.
 
 202 YACHTLXG. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Priests and Peasants. 
 
 There are, I believe, no people more religious 
 than the Irish, but we must especially bear in 
 mind that religion depends somewhat upon senti- 
 ment, and is seldom able to hold its ground 
 against worldly interests. They may also be 
 called ' moral,' living in rural districts, where the 
 light is tolerably strong, and the wife with her 
 ten children would be apt to punish delinquencies 
 with severit}'. 
 
 But granting that the Irish, both Protestants 
 and Roman Catholics, have more religion than 
 the English, I consider that often it is of a more 
 polemical than rational kind, and frequently super- 
 stitious. A shrewd, intelligent gamekeeper of 
 a friend of mine, being asked by him whether 
 he really believed that the priest could turn him 
 into a goat, replied with emphasis, ' Faith, to be 
 sure I do.' 
 
 Enter any of the Roman Catholic chapels, and 
 you will invariably find peasants devoutly on 
 their knees before the images or pictures of the 
 Virgin and Saints. They are not worshipping 
 them, we are told — the priests forbid that. They 
 are merely beholding them as emblems of some-
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 203 
 
 thing greater. But, in truth, superstition under- 
 hes the system, and a behef is encouraged in 
 charms, holy candles, etc., which is found not 
 unprofitable. I remember a 3'oung lad}', who took 
 a great interest in my welfare, pressing me much 
 to wear a little thing like a pincushion tied round 
 my arm, when I was recrossing the channel, as it 
 contained a picture of the Holy Virgin, and would 
 preserve me from shipwreck. Many ecclesiastics 
 would be unwilling to lose these sources of profit, 
 and they are always very active in collecting 
 money, though they seem to derive little advan- 
 tage from it. That mysterious body — the Church 
 — absorbs and dissipates their wealth. 
 
 ' Poor Father H ,' exclaimed one of that 
 
 worthy priest's parishioners to me, ' he is obliged 
 to be in the chapel at seven o'clock on these cold 
 mornings.' 
 
 ' But he has curates,' I replied ; ' why does he 
 not allow them to perform this unpleasant duty ?' 
 
 ' Oh, that would not answer at all !' was the 
 response ; ' he has to hold the plate at the door.' 
 
 ' With us,' I observed, ' a churchwarden or 
 sidesman would perform that office.' 
 
 ' It would not do here,' she returned ; ' he would 
 
 get nothing, for Father H has to call the 
 
 people back if they do not put in enough.'
 
 204 YACHTING. 
 
 An instance was told mc in which a priest 
 would only allow people to enter the chapel in 
 single file, in order that the plate might be duly 
 honoured. He stood with it himself at the door 
 to enforce this regulation. The obstruction thus 
 offered caused the crowd outside rapidly to in- 
 crease, and some discontent began to be mani- 
 fested. But the priest, firmly wedged into the 
 doorway, stood his ground like a man and a 
 Catholic. At length a surging movement w^as 
 visible in the crowd, a rush was made, the 
 ortly obstacle was overthrown, and the eager 
 worshippers made their way into the chapel over 
 the body of their prostrate priest. Truly, the 
 kingdom of heaven was in this case taken by 
 violence. 
 
 I also heard that a reverend father, in preaching 
 an eloquent discourse on the dignity at which 
 the Roman Catholics had arrived by the dis- 
 establishment of the Protestant Church, brought 
 home his observations by the following practical 
 conclusion : 
 
 'And now, my dear brethren, since we have 
 arrived at such a glorious consummation, it is 
 more than ever incumbent upon you to double 
 your contributions.' 
 
 Early and imprudent marriages are a prolific
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 205 
 
 source of misery in all countries. They are too 
 common in England, and I remember a parish in 
 Kent where we could gauge the prosperity of the 
 season by the number of weddings, for it seemed 
 as if every man who could spare 7s. 6d. im- 
 mediately entered upon the holy estate. But 
 in Ireland this extravagance is encouraged by the 
 priest, who openly exhorts the young men and 
 women to make their arrangements at once, and 
 not to wait until they become old, when they 
 may sit ' mewing at one another like two cats in 
 a crib.' They have good reason for giving such 
 advice, as they sometimes obtain as much as -£"20 
 for performing the ceremony. 
 
 The following story, told me by a Romanist, who 
 seemed to relish it much, would seem to imply 
 that the priests would not be very anxious to 
 promote marriages where the fees were not 
 forthcoming. A poor girl, who had been long 
 engaged to her young man, went at length to the 
 parish priest to beg that he would confirm their 
 happiness. He inquired how much money she 
 would give for the ceremony ; to which she made 
 answer that all she possessed in the world was 
 one sovereign. The priest shook his head ; he 
 must have thirty shillings. The girl prayed and 
 sobbed, and represented the cruelty of the case.
 
 2o6 YA CHTING. 
 
 but all to no effect — the arbiter of her destinies 
 remained obdurate. She left the room in the 
 utmost despair, but, as she was passing throu,gh 
 the hall, her eyes lighted on one of the priest's 
 cloaks, which was hanging in graceful folds upon 
 a peg. She looked again — the evil one suggested 
 an idea. She unhooked the holy garment, and 
 disappeared. In half an hour she returned, much 
 to her own and the priest's satisfaction, with the 
 requisite thirty shillings. He was all smiles, and 
 said he would perform the ceremony with as little 
 delay as possible, and so she and Pat were made 
 one ; and as she was leaving the chapel she 
 politely dropped a curtsy to his reverence, and 
 handed him the pawn-ticket, that he might go 
 and recover his cloak. 
 
 But although the people condemn the sharp 
 practice of individual priests, they attribute an 
 efficacy to their prayers and offices which we find 
 it difficult to understand. Not only the women, 
 but also many of the men, are completely subjected 
 to sacerdotal influence. An old gentleman of my 
 acquaintance — a Protestant, but one who, during 
 a long residence in the country, had imbibed much 
 of the feelings of his tenantry — on hearing of the 
 death of the village blacksmith, a notorious 
 drunkard, inquired with much concern whether,
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 207 
 
 in his last moments, he had been attended by a 
 priest. On being answered in the affirmative, he 
 seemed greatly relieved, and striking his stick on 
 
 the ground, exclaimed, ' By G ! then it's all 
 
 right with the poor devil !' 
 
 The priests are very strict about confession in 
 Ireland, and I fancy that some of them have 
 occasionally a good laugh, when alone together, 
 over the secrets divulged to them. Some penitents 
 are excessively tender in their consciences, enter- 
 ing into minute details about all their pecca- 
 dilloes, and even dragging to light every little im- 
 pertinence of thought which has suggested itself 
 to them ; but I have reason to believe there are 
 many who make a pretty fair show in the confes- 
 sional, and carefully keep back all their more 
 serious offences. 
 
 The system of graduating punishment in ac- 
 cordance with the culpability of offences has a bad 
 moral effect. It has necessarily arisen from 
 appointing penances, and its inconvenience is well 
 illustrated in the following case. A poor man 
 came to confession ; all that he had to tell was 
 that he had stolen a pig. 
 
 ' Was it a good pig ?' inquired the priest. 
 
 ' Egad, your rivirence, it was an iligant cratur !' 
 
 ' Did it belong to a rich man, or to a poor one ?'
 
 2o8 YA CHTING. 
 
 ' Oh, a very rich man, your riverence.' 
 * Well, well, that makes a great difference. It's 
 not of much consequence. He could afford to 
 lose it. You need only say a few "Ave Marias" 
 and " Pater Nosters" for a week.' 
 'Thank your rivirence, I'll do that.' 
 ' By the way, Pat,' said the priest, as the man 
 was going out, ' I forgot to whom you said the 
 pig belonged.' 
 
 ' Belonged to, did you say ? Shure, didn't it 
 belong to your rivirence ?' 
 
 The idea which most people form of an Irish 
 priest, or, as he now calls himself, an Irish clergy- 
 man, is that of an intolerant man, somewhat the 
 better for joviality and the worse for duplicity. But 
 experience proves that although priests are rubbed 
 down considerably by a long ecclesiastical training, 
 nature is not entirely expelled from them. A 
 man's innate disposition always rules his life to a 
 certain extent. Thus among the priests some are 
 men of learning, and some admirable in their 
 calling. Many are excellent judges of horses, 
 and I remember one that would not ride a horse 
 that cost less than a hundred guineas. Another 
 was born to be an architect ; his mind was always 
 full of plans for houses, schools, or churches, and 
 of schemes for obtaining money to carry out his
 
 PRIESTS AND PEA SANTS. 209 
 
 designs. Some are scientific and philosophical, 
 well versed in the works of Tyndall, Herbert 
 Spencer, and contemporary freethinking writers. 
 I heard one of them maintain against all comers 
 that nothing is certain but our own existence. He 
 concluded from this that as nothing is certain we 
 may as well accept the doctrines propounded by 
 the Church. Humour and pleasantry are common 
 to most of the priests, and some can tell excellent 
 stories about their quick-witted and ignorant 
 parishioners. 
 
 The private life of the ' father ' is simple and 
 old-fashioned. He lives in a cottage, which in 
 its neatness is a contrast to the neighbouring 
 houses and an example to their occupants. The 
 service is performed by one old woman, and 
 there is a boy to groom the necessary horse. 
 The hours adopted seem to us strange and 
 primitive ; as there is no luncheon, the priest 
 dines between four and five. When a party is 
 given — and some are very hospitable — the fare is 
 of a substantial character ; no kickshaws or made 
 dishes are visible. There is seldom any soup or 
 fish, but you might sit down to a table having at 
 the head a boiled turkey and at the foot a round 
 of corned beef. The side-dishes would be a leg 
 of pork and a loin of mutton, or perhaps a mutton 
 
 14
 
 2IO YACHTING. 
 
 ham. The sweets only consist of a monster 
 apple pie. The turkey must have celery sauce ; 
 and I remember having once been much sur- 
 prised when, visiting a bailiff's cottage, I heard a 
 boy say at the door : 
 
 ' If you plaze, sir, Father Murphy has sent me to 
 ask you if you would give him some oiyonr salary.'' 
 
 ' I'll send him what I can spare,' was the con- 
 siderate reply. 
 
 I may here observe that the priests sometimes 
 requisition hay and other things, but I believe this 
 custom is dying out. Some of these ' men of 
 peace ' have lately become political orators of a 
 very advanced type, induced partly by a certain 
 natural pugnacity, partly by the force of circum- 
 stances. I remember an old priest who had so 
 much more ' Nationalism ' than judgment that 
 he said, ' No man was ever murdered in Ireland 
 that did not richly deserve it.' We can better 
 understand such sympathies and expressions when 
 we remember that these men nearly all belong to 
 the families of small farmers. When young they 
 have often heard the payment of the rent spoken 
 of as a hardship, and hence they can enter 
 heartily into a crusade against landlords.* But in 
 
 * It must also be remembered that if a priest is asked to 
 give evidence against his parishioners, he has to choose be- 
 tween bankruptcy and a short comfortable imprisonment.
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 211 
 
 justice we must admit that many of the priests 
 in these trying times, when their own dues are 
 at stake, have manfully refused to sanction 
 tenants' dishonest schemes. A friend of mine 
 had a remarkable experience of this kind. A 
 tenant on his property, a most respectable man, 
 with a considerable capital invested in his farm, 
 and of course with a large family, read Dillon's 
 ' Plan of Campaign.' ^^'hether he entirely 
 abhorred or gave a ' sombre acquiescence ' to the 
 proposal for cutting down rents we need not 
 inquire ; but when his eye alighted on the passage 
 in which it was said that all those who had taken 
 farms since the commencement of the agitation 
 should be turned out, his indignation knew no 
 bounds. He had himself not long come into pos- 
 session. In his wrath he used some hard words 
 about Dillon to his friends, and with the incaution 
 of his countrymen said that he ought to be shot. 
 This was soon noised abroad, and the Nationalists 
 became incensed. A council of neighbouring 
 
 farmers was called, and C was ordered to 
 
 appear before it. He was in dismay at this in- 
 telligence. If condemned by the court, he would 
 suffer boycotting with all its consequences. Ruin 
 was impending. Most fortunately, in this emer- 
 gency the priest came to my friend's assistance. 
 
 14 — 2
 
 212 YACIITIXG. 
 
 He took the chair at the meeting. The culprit. 
 
 C . came in hke a man about to be executed. 
 
 The charge against him was stated, and he was 
 asked what he had to sa}' in self-defence. He 
 replied sorrowfully that he much regretted what 
 he had said, that he meant just the opposite, but 
 he was. so drunk that he did not know what he 
 was saying. ^^^hile this statement was being 
 received with some murmurs, the priest said in a 
 loud voice, ' I'm very glad to hear it. That's 
 perfectly satisfactor}'. You're acquitted — 3'^ou 
 may go !' 
 
 But for this kindly intervention of the priest 
 the man might have been visited ' by the pale 
 moonlight ;' or if not, he and his family would 
 have been reduced to beggar}-. 
 
 The Irish generally attribute all the miseries of 
 their country to excessive rents, forgetting that in 
 this they blame somewhat themselves, as there 
 must be two parties in fixing a rent. But, in 
 truth, the present miserable state of Ireland arises 
 not from one, but from many causes. First and 
 foremost is the low price of agricultural produce, 
 due to foreign imports. If values had continued as 
 they were forty years ago, most rents would have 
 been paid now as well as they were then ; but the 
 high prices about ten years since led to the
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 213 
 
 farmers forming high hopes and hving in a better 
 way, and they now fight to the last against 
 returning to their former state of discomfort. 
 Bad seasons also have borne heavily upon some 
 who have not capital to stand a small loss. The 
 general dissatisfaction arising from these causes 
 has led to the appearance of a host of agitators, 
 who think a living may be made by exciting 
 the tenants against the landlords. They know 
 from experience that the Irish are alwaj^s ready 
 to subscribe money handsomely. The farms 
 being very small also leads to an increase of dis- 
 turbances, as the tenants are of a low class, and 
 being very numerous, partake of the nature and 
 feelings of a mob. 
 
 If a tenant in England cannot pay his rent he 
 resigns his farm, and would think an ' eviction ' 
 more disgraceful to himself than to his land- 
 lord. But the Irishman refuses both to pa}- any 
 rent but that which he himself pleases and also 
 to give up his land, tries to make a scene when 
 he is ejected, and afterwards boycotts the farm. 
 The reason of this is partly an attachment to 
 his holding, mostly a fear of his own people. 
 He knows there are speculative fellows who 
 would offer the old rent to get the farm ; and he 
 may also have some conviction that a man with
 
 214 YACHTING. 
 
 more industry and capital than he possesses 
 might be able to make a larger rent. It is the 
 competition of his own brethren he is afraid of, 
 and that is one reason why outrages are generally 
 committed upon the poor rather than upon the 
 rich. Another cause of the condition of Ireland 
 is the weakness and demoralization of the English 
 Parliament, where both parties have been bidding 
 for the Irish vote, and rivalling each other in con- 
 cessions to lawlessness. Let us hope that a better 
 state of things is now commencing. 
 
 The present state of Ireland is a spectacle 'for 
 gods and men,' and an anomaly in the civilized 
 world. Instead of a central power and organized 
 executive, the law, such as it is, is promulgated by 
 a vast number of self-constituted tribunals spread 
 over the face of the country. These are mainly 
 composed of ignorant and prejudiced men, and 
 there is no appeal from their decision. They 
 settle questions affecting property worth some 
 two hundred millions, and occupy the positions 
 both of plaintiffs and judges. Their mandates 
 are carried out by a most effective police, con- 
 sisting of all the idle boys in their neighbourhood. 
 The Land League originally started this system, 
 but even that central authority is often overlooked. 
 The committees meet once a week on nearly
 
 PRIESTS AND PEASANTS. 215 
 
 every property to devise means for obstructing the 
 landlord in the management of his property, and 
 of course the voices of the most impecunious and 
 pugnacious are the loudest. A nearer approach 
 to anarchy can scarcely be imagined. 
 
 There is a delicate subject generally alluded to 
 in connection with Ireland which I wish only to 
 touch with light fingers — I mean the want of 
 cleanliness among the poorer classes. William de 
 Windsor mentioned this peculiarity in the time 
 of Edward III., when even England was not 
 faultless in this respect. The girls' hair always 
 seemed to me to be very rough, and on my 
 remarking that one of them did not appear to 
 have brushed her hair that morning, the reply 
 was, ' Probably not for a week.' 
 
 When sailing up to New Ross we took a pilot on 
 board, an intelligent man, who told us much about 
 the country. He said he was a teetotaler, and 
 amused me by replying, when I asked him if he 
 would have some tea, ' No, thank you, sir ; I drink 
 nothing but cordials.' When he was leaving, one 
 of our sailors said, ' Have you got your coat ?' and 
 another immediately repeated, ' Oh, don't forget 
 your coat !' I was glad to hear this ; it seemed 
 as though they took an interest in the old man's 
 welfare. But when his boat pushed off, I found
 
 2i6 YACHTING. 
 
 that they were thinking more of themselves, and 
 had descried something on his coat which made 
 them particularly anxious not to have it left on 
 board. 
 
 One of our crew became ill during our stay in 
 Ireland, and our sailing-master engaged an Irish 
 sailor to take his place. This measure I soon 
 found was very unpopular with the crew. They 
 looked askance at the new man, and were seen 
 whispering together, and scratching themselves. 
 Some of them began to overhaul their clothes. 
 Our ' old man of the sea,' Tom, got out his great 
 spectacles, and was constantly to be seen sitting 
 on a water-cask deeply absorbed in examining 
 portions of his wardrobe. Our sailing-master at 
 last charged the Irishman openly with having 
 brought some extra passengers on board, and his 
 reply to the soft impeachment, ' There never was 
 a man wore a hat that hadn't some,' was not 
 comforting. Brown said that he was not able to 
 answer that he had none, for at that moment he 
 was not quite sure. 
 
 The man was accordingly dismissed. I was 
 sorry that he Vv^as objectionable in this respect, 
 for otherwise he seemed quiet and well-behaved. 
 It was very inconvenient to be short of a hand on 
 board, and I still thought a man might be obtained
 
 PRIESTS AND PEA SANTS. 1 1 7 
 
 on the coast. I determined to interrogate the 
 pohce on the subject — they are a very smart, well- 
 trained body of men. Accordingly, as soon as I 
 had the opportunity I mentioned to one of them 
 the unpleasant discoveries on board the yacht. 
 
 ' How comes it to pass,' I asked, ' that so many 
 of the Irish are in this condition ?' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I don't know,' he replied. ' I think it 
 is because they are so much more clever than the 
 English.' If he had said ' more attractive ' I 
 should have understood him. 
 
 I attribute the want of cleanliness among the 
 Irish to the relaxing character of the climate, the 
 want of proper training when young, and con- 
 tempt for small domestic duties. I am speaking 
 of a large class, but not of the middle classes, 
 or of the better part of the poor. Still, there is 
 a general want of neatness and order in the 
 country, especially when compared with the high 
 condition of England.
 
 2i8 YACHTING. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Yacht's Crew. — Becalmed. 
 
 The sailing-master, four men and a boy formed 
 our crew, and, I may say, our companions on the 
 voyage. The first. Brown, had sailed for many 
 many years from Smyrna and the Archipelago in 
 the fruit trade, and had been so long on the West 
 Indian coast that the natives told him he only 
 wanted ' one dip more to make him a darky.' 
 He was not only a judicious and enterprising 
 navigator, but was very amusing in conversation, 
 having a fund of stories about his fortunes and 
 misfortunes in various parts of the world. His 
 accounts of quarrels, fights, surprises and escapes, 
 amatory and predatory, might have filled a 
 volume with strange roving adventures. At one 
 time we find him caught in a gale in the Bay of 
 Biscay, and shut up in the hold for seven days, 
 during which no one dared to venture on deck, 
 and when they looked through the scuttle they 
 ' could see the sky through the waves.' On 
 another occasion he is mounted on an untrained 
 colt in Jamaica, which he rode so hard that he 
 broke the stirrups, and then pulled so vigorously 
 that he broke the bridle, being finally carried away
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 219 
 
 into a forest, where he narrowly escaped the fate 
 of Absalom. 
 
 The other men went severally by the names of 
 Isaac, Sam, George, and Tom. Isaac was an old 
 salt, a good judge of the weather, and more 
 valuable for his experience than for any work he 
 performed. Sam was a large heavily-built fellow, 
 somewhat of the walrus type. He had been 
 accustomed to a very rude and uncivilized state 
 of things, and held all the amenities of life in 
 supreme contempt. Knives and forks he despised 
 as unnecessary refinements, and preferred the 
 earlier appliances ; and cups and saucers he con- 
 sidered only fit for chimney ornaments, requiring 
 a capacious bowl for his potations. He had been 
 much in Southern climes, and was tattooed with a 
 variety of devices. He told me that the natives 
 in the South Seas were beginning to be very 
 fashionable, by having shoes and stockings 
 tattooed on them. 
 
 George was a man of a very different stamp. 
 He had been employed principally in fishing, 
 and consequently had been much on shore ; and 
 boasting some advantages in face and figure, had 
 caused a considerable sensation among the ' 'long 
 shore ' nymphs. Being by no means an ungrate- 
 ful man, he had duly appreciated their kindness,
 
 220 YACHTING. 
 
 and did his best to repay them by bestowing extra 
 attention upon his toilet and costume. He soon 
 insinuated himself into the good graces of Mrs. 
 Wiltshire's maid, who privately told her mistress 
 * that he was quite superior to the rest,' but before 
 the end of the season the trusting abigail greatly 
 changed her opinion. One day, when she was 
 expecting a proposal, he confided to her that he 
 was no scholar, and should feel much obliged if 
 she would write a letter for him to his sweetheart ! 
 Tom, or ' Old Tom,' as he was generally called, 
 was a quaint, powerful man with black curly hair, 
 and such an expression of countenance that when 
 topped with his red yachting nightcap he might 
 have sat for a picture of Puck. He seldom spoke, 
 but when he did open his lips it was to utter some 
 enigmatical observation, which you perceived from 
 a twinkle in his eye was intended to be humorous. 
 Viewed in profile, he resembled one of the ancient 
 Egyptians as we see them represented on the 
 monuments, who maintain the same imperturb- 
 able expression, whether seated at a convivial 
 banquet or engaged in a tremendous battle. 
 Nothing could disturb his equanimity ; fair 
 weather or foul, soft words or hard, it was all the 
 same to him. It was a pleasure to contemplate 
 him ; he seemed to diffuse serenity around ; and
 
 THE YACHTS CREW. 221 
 
 yet he was not a man with whom the world 
 had gone very smooth^. He had contended for 
 forty years with rough shipmates and rougher 
 waves, and out of his scanty earnings had main- 
 tained a wife and seven children. What enabled 
 him to preserve such calmness and complacency ? 
 What raised him above the vicissitudes of life, 
 and made his red cap stand so erect upon his 
 head ? One word explains the myster}- — a magic 
 word — tobacco ! He was never without tobacco 
 in his pipe, tobacco in his mouth, and to complete 
 the charm, he wore a roll of it upon the top of his 
 head. Yet he was a shrewd, sensible man, 
 weatherwise as well as witty, and his neatness 
 was so great that little Emily took a malicious 
 pleasure in peeping at him in the forecastle, 
 where he was generally to be seen with his ' diddy 
 bag,' darning his stockings or 'overhauling' some of 
 his clothes. Better than all, he was a religious 
 man. He was fond of what he called a ' noice 
 Boible,' and of sermons and expositions, which he 
 read aloud on Sundays in a sonorous voice. The 
 other men made no objection to this, but at the 
 same time considered he had no right to interfere 
 with their conversation, and the resulting inter- 
 mixture of things sacred and nautical produced a 
 strange and sometimes ludicrous effect.
 
 222 YACHTING. 
 
 With these men and the saihng-master or 
 captain, I thought my crew completed, when I 
 was informed that there never was such a thing 
 heard of as a vessel sailing without a boy. This 
 deficiency I was therefore obliged to suppl}-. Billy, 
 the boy, who was scullion, scrub and slave, was, 
 in reality, better educated than any of the rest. 
 He was active and clever, and had, moreover, a 
 taste for music. Nevertheless, he was generally 
 despised by the others, and being a youngster, 
 was considered a fair subject for all kinds of 
 practical jokes. The least objectionable of these 
 was Old Tom's, who, when he knew Billy was 
 below dressing himself, or engaged in some 
 delicate operation, would seat himself by the 
 fore peak, and looking seaward, suddenly exclaim 
 in a stentorian voice : 
 
 ' Well I never ! I never did see anything like 
 that ! Is it a whale ?' 
 
 Upon hearing this, Billy, who had a great 
 appetite for marine wonders, would rush up on 
 deck, leaving everything in disorder, sometimes 
 upsetting the kettle on his way, and crying out, 
 'Where ? where ?' 
 
 ' Where ?' answered Old Tom ; * why, there 
 behind you ; can't you turn your head ?' 
 
 * I don't see anything,' returns Billy.
 
 THE YACHT S CREW. 223 
 
 ' No, of course you don't ; it's gone now. Well, 
 I never did see such a slow chap in all my life !' 
 
 But Billy's greatest misfortune was that he had 
 not been originally brought up to the sea, and 
 although he had not served out his apprenticeship 
 as a tailor, the fact of his ever having been 
 engaged in such a trade offered to his mates an 
 irresistible temptation. Never had unfortunate 
 wight sadder cause to know the difference one 
 letter can make in a word. Whenever he was not 
 quite so smart in his work as they desired, he was 
 assailed with ' Is that the way the tailors do?' or 
 ' Come, none of your tailoring tricks here.' This 
 annoyed the boy, for his great ambition was to be 
 a sailor, and he sometimes lost his temper and re- 
 torted upon them, the result being that they called 
 him a factory boy, and said they would throw 
 him overboard — a threat in days gone by often 
 carried into execution in the merchant service : a 
 rope was tied round the offender's body, and he 
 was towed astern until his anger had cooled 
 down. 
 
 One fine June evening, after a good dinner at 
 the Kingswear Hotel, which seemed better than it 
 was from the pleasant prospect before us, we 
 sailed out between the castled heights which guard 
 the entrance to the Dart, and stood for Brittany.
 
 224 YACHTING. 
 
 The sun was just setting in the west, the water 
 was smooth, and the breeze Hght. Our progress 
 became somewhat slow, and having slept comfort- 
 ably, we next morning found ourselves becalmed 
 in mid channel, out of sight of land. Nothing of 
 importance occurred during the day. We lay 
 * like a painted ship upon a painted ocean.' At 
 noon the heat was intense. Sometimes the water 
 looked like molten metal, sometimes like rippling 
 silk, and its surface might have been a study of 
 diamond patterns for the designer, or of inter- 
 secting curves for the mathematician. 
 
 The topmasts of a steamer appeared above the 
 horizon at noon, and gradually the dark hull rose, 
 and seemed to grow in size till it approached quite 
 close, and the captain hailed us to ask the 
 direction of the Lizard. We informed him, and 
 learnt that he came from Odessa, and as the 
 vessel was of iron the compass was not quite true. 
 
 Brown walked about the deck with his hands 
 in his pockets whistling. But no breeze re- 
 sponded to his call. 
 
 When night drew on the lamps were lit, and all 
 having been made snug aloft, the men descended 
 into the forecastle. George came last ; the summer 
 weather seemed to have raised his spirits. 
 
 ' Come, why should we be melancholy, boys ?'
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 225 
 
 he exclaimed as he drew his shoulders through 
 the fore-peak, and stood for a moment on the 
 round of the ladder contemplating the company. 
 ' Strike, strike the banjo ; I like a good old song. 
 Come, Billy, tune up ; let's hear how the tailors 
 do it ; I'll be bound the governor won't mind the 
 music' 
 
 Billy, thus challenged, produced his concertina 
 and began to play an elaborate prelude, which 
 the rest listened to with more astonishment than 
 pleasure. George was the first to show im- 
 patience. 
 
 'Come, Billy, I say, let's have something lively ; 
 that's enough of your tailoring twirls.' 
 
 ' I like the Psalms of David or a good hymn,' 
 interposed Old Tom. '"Awake, my soul," or 
 something of that sort. Howsomever, music's 
 music, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Aye, aye,' replied George, who was not quite 
 devotional. ' That's all very well, but we're not 
 in chapel now. Give me " Polly Perkins " or 
 " My Mary Anne." ' 
 
 ' Let's have a song about the old pirates and 
 smugglers,' growled Tom. 
 
 ' Or "Jenny Jones," ' suggested George. 
 
 Billy, thus puzzled, played ' Mary, Astore ' and 
 * Norah of Kildare,' which he sang very creditably. 
 
 15
 
 226 YACHTING. 
 
 Then George san^ a song in the chorus of 
 which all joined heartily : 
 
 Through the spray we hold our way, 
 
 111 can ne'er betide us, 
 For afar a northern star 
 
 Shines aloft to guide us. 
 P'ast or slow, rain or blow, 
 
 On we sail together, 
 Safe to steer for England dear, 
 
 Fair or foul the weather. 
 
 She's the land that every hand 
 
 Strives to gain or perish ; 
 .She's the home, where'er they roam, 
 
 Britons love to cherish. 
 
 Chorus : Fast or slow, etc. 
 
 .Sails unfurled through all the world 
 
 Seek her tranquil waters ; 
 Sailors chide the ebbing tide 
 
 That stays them from her daughters. 
 Chorus : Fast or slow, etc. / 
 
 Long may high her bunting fly 
 
 Beyond the sea-bird's pinion. 
 While east and west alike are blest 
 
 Beneath her mild dominion. 
 Chorus : Fast or slow, etc. 
 
 Other songs followed, some of such surprising 
 length that I began to think their powers would 
 fail. So I told the steward to give them a bottle 
 of rum, and soon the hissing of a kettle and clink- 
 ing of glasses gave proof that hot work was going 
 on.
 
 THE YACHT'S CRFAV. 227 
 
 Thus reinforced, the company became still 
 noisier and more musical. Brown took out his 
 violin and tuned like fifty screech-owls. 
 
 ' You should have been with us in the Jacob 
 and Jeinima,'' he said, ' if 3'ou ^vanted to hear 
 music ; that was music in earnest. All the men 
 sang, and pretty loud too, and we had a drum, a 
 banjo, and a bagpipes. When we were at Naples 
 and the royal band played on the Chiaja, we used 
 to set up an opposition. They got jealous of us 
 at last, however, for we made a greater row than 
 they did, and they sent the police to us and 
 ordered us to " stop that knocking." ' 
 
 With these words he struck up ' Charming 
 Judy Callaghan,' which George sang in such a 
 soft and persuasive tone, that even that obdurate 
 beauty could scarcely have reiterated her ' Nay.' 
 More songs followed, and then Brown tried to 
 play the concertina, which occasioned great 
 laughter. But the loudest chorus and the 
 greatest success of the evening, sung as it was 
 with a considerable amount of serio-comic ex- 
 pression, was — 
 
 ' Pipe, pipe your eye ! Pipe, pipe your eye ! 
 For the French are coming, and they say 
 They'll drink old England dry.' 
 
 15—2
 
 228 YACHTING. 
 
 Everyone was in a jovial mood and got upon his 
 favourite theme. 
 
 'SmuggHng?' said old Isaac, looking back, as 
 was his wont, on days gone by. ' There's no 
 smuggling now, such as there used to be when I 
 was a youngster. I've helped at it myself. Many 
 a night I've crossed from Rosecough to the coast 
 of Cornwall, over lOO miles in an open boat, and 
 hard work to keep her afloat, for we always 
 crossed with a cloudy sky, and sometimes came 
 in for a breeze.' 
 
 ' Sailors' fare,' struck in Old Tom ; ' foul to-day 
 and chops to-morrow.' 
 
 ' And then,' continued Isaac, ' we stowed the 
 casks snug in a cave, or took the landmarks and 
 sank them in deep water, to return for them 
 again when the revenue people were out of the 
 way. There's not much done smuggling now — a 
 little perhaps on the quiet.' 
 
 'That's what I say,' added Sam. 'There's no 
 spirit in it nowadays. Why, I've heard of two 
 men being tarred and feathered, and carried 
 round Deal in a cart, for blowing the gaff on their 
 mates.' 
 
 ' Aye, a}-e,' replied Isaac. ' You've never seen 
 such smuggling as I have. Smuggling gold — 
 Spanish doubloons — that's your game. One day
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 229 
 
 when we were off Valparaiso, the commander 
 comes to me and tells me to go to Lord 
 Cochrane, as good an officer and as good a sailor 
 as I ever knew. Well, as soon as I got to the 
 admiral's cabin, my lord turns the key in the 
 door, and " Boatswain," says he, " now we're 
 alone and nobody can't hear us. I've half a 
 million gold doubloons coming off next week, and 
 I want to know how we're to manage it." " Well, 
 my lord," says I, " I think our best plan will be 
 to get the cooper to make some new breakers 
 with false heads six inches deep, and stow the 
 gold in like that." And so we did, and got it off 
 all safe in six days. The men said the new water 
 breakers was precious heavy, and one of the 
 Spanish officers ashore put his finger into every 
 cask to see if it was water, but no one discovered 
 anything.' 
 
 ' The young chaps nowadays,' said Old Tom, 
 ' don't know what the old sailors went through in 
 the French war, when they were sometimes for 
 a year without setting foot on shore. There was 
 something doing then, and no mistake, when they 
 used to be knocking about off Youshant, watching 
 the French fleet at Brest.' 
 
 ' My father had many stories about them 'ere 
 times,' added George. ' Once when he was sail-
 
 230 YACHTING. 
 
 ing in a seventy-ton brig off Beachy Head, they 
 Avere chased by a French privateer lugger. Men 
 were so scarce then that the crew consisted of 
 only the captain and two men. On finding that 
 they were pursued, the captain was for surrender- 
 ing, and protested that they should all be killed if 
 they made any resistance. But father had been 
 in a man-of-war, and he insisted on bringing up 
 an old cannon which lay in the hold. They had 
 no ball, but loaded it with bolts and pieces of old 
 iron, and as a finish filled it chock full up to the 
 mouth with broken glass bottles. The lugger was 
 soon alongside, for you know them " sashmarees " 
 is fast sailing craft, and a man in the bow threw 
 grappling-irons on board. This brought the main- 
 mast of the lugger opposite the mouth of the 
 cannon, and the Englishman immediately fired. 
 The mast fell with a tremendous crash upon the 
 deck of the lugger, knocking some of the men 
 overboard and wounding others. Such was the 
 Frenchmen's fright that the man at the bow cut 
 the rope of the grappling-irons, and so the brig 
 pushed off and got away. When all was over 
 the cannon was nowhere to be found. Vessels 
 were then built without bulwarks, and the recoil 
 had sent it clean over the other side. My father 
 had them very grappling-irons hanging up in his
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 231 
 
 cottage till the day of his death, and used to tell 
 the story.' 
 
 Old Tom now changed the subject. He was 
 of a more domestic turn, and although fond of sea 
 stories, his mind was constantly reverting to his 
 little home. 
 
 ' I shall be right glad when I get back to the 
 old woman again,' he said absently ; ' and I have 
 heard that there will be a little lady waiting to 
 welcome me.' 
 
 'That's your tenth, Tom, ain't it?' inquired 
 George, evidently more admiring the man's 
 equanimity than his good fortune. 
 
 ' Aye, the tenth, and not one too many — God 
 bless them ! The dear creatures gives a man an 
 object in life — something to look forward to, like ; 
 and they gives a trust in Providence. Why, in 
 that gale we was in, passing Jut reef, I says to 
 m3self, " We'll weather it safe enough ; I'm all 
 right, and so are the rest of us. Nothing will 
 happen to me, because I'm a father and have 
 nine young uns to provide for."' You couldn't 
 have said that, George.' 
 
 ' No, I'm very glad I couldn't," replied George 
 cynically. 
 
 ' Well,' continued Old Tom, ' I should never 
 have worked half as hard, or earned half as much,
 
 232 YACHTING. 
 
 if it hadn't .been for the dear ones at home. Take 
 my word for it, an unmarried man will never get 
 rich. Look at my two brothers, William and 
 Harry. William is married and Harry ain't. 
 They've been always in the same ships, except 
 once when Harry was sent away for coming late 
 aboard, and William is worth two hundred pounds 
 or more, while Harry has not saved a farthing.' 
 
 ' Well, all I know is,' observed Isaac, ' I once 
 had a wife, and she was a rare bad un, and I 
 don't care who hears me say so. But I acted 
 handsome by her. I took her down to the rail- 
 way-station, and I paid her way home to her 
 mother, every mile of it. I said I'd do it hand- 
 some, and I did.' 
 
 Silence and order at length prevailed. Brown 
 went on deck, Isaac, Tom, and Sam turned into 
 their beds, and George poured out the last of the 
 liquor and began to sip it slowly, as with dreamy 
 eye he reviewed his successes and failures in the 
 battlefield of love. 
 
 ' Well, well, Billy, a glass of grog does one good 
 now and then ; it seems to cheer one up like. I 
 wonder where my old Polly is now. She was a 
 fine woman, and no mistake. Why, her hand 
 was as big as mine ; none of your trumpery bits of 
 things only fit to carry a parrisole. She had a fin.
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 233 
 
 and a precious good smack she could give with it, 
 as I known. And she'd a good foot too, broad 
 and flat — something to stand upon — a man with 
 a narrow one ain't much good loading coals. 
 She was a fine wholesome ship, with plenty of 
 beam and a good bit of ballast ; none of your 
 cranky craft only fit for a coffin. Married a 
 sodjer — one of the riglers — a sniggering rascal, 
 Sarve her right for going arter the landlubbers. 
 
 ' I never thought so much about Sairey, though 
 she had a smart figure-head, she had. She warn't 
 in good repair, so to speak ; I thought her copper 
 and rigging were out of order. Howsomever, we 
 used to keep company at one time, and she said 
 I'd gained her affictions, and gived me a lock of 
 her hair. I've got it now somewhere or other 
 'long with my 'baccy. But when I came home 
 from my last voyage, blessed if she hadn't gone 
 and married old Smugg the grocer, with his six 
 children, and she'd a new sky-scraper on, and 
 wouldn't speak to a chap like me. Well, I've a 
 good riddance of her, that's all. I've got a 
 better one now. I'd rather have my Zibey, than 
 three of the likes of her. She's as neat a girl 
 as a poor man need wish to have; she's a 
 housemaid in Squire Robinson's family. But I 
 haven't heard from her since I've been away,
 
 234 YACHTING. 
 
 and I can't get nobody to write to her for me. I 
 hear the parsons now are teaching all the young 
 chaps to write their own love-letters, but my 
 parents never made me no scholar.' 
 
 Billy's sympathy and admiration w^ere greatly 
 excited by these recitals, and he in turn began to 
 give his experiences. Even he had met with 
 some successes, and he related them with so 
 much minuteness and so many embellishments, 
 that George could no longer restrain his feelings, 
 but burst out with ' Well, darn me, Sam, but them 
 tailors is knowing ones !' 
 
 Sam, thus addressed, said that he did not know 
 nor care nothing at all about it ; for his part, his 
 books were made up. 
 
 Old Tom was not more communicative ; he was 
 settling himself for the night, and merely observed, 
 ' When you young chaps are done, perhaps you'll 
 let me go to sleep, and mind you're up early to 
 wash decks in the morning.' 
 
 They apparently took the hint, for their voices 
 became less audible and their observations less 
 connected ; and presently Sam's melodious horn 
 began to sound so loud that it seemed to shake 
 the little vessel from stem to stern, and George 
 was heard at intervals vainly expostulating : 
 ' Sam ! I say, come, wake up 1 How is one to
 
 THE YACHTS CREW. 235 
 
 get to sleep with such a blessed row as that 
 going on ?' 
 
 On our previous voyage considerable dissension 
 had arisen among the crew. It not unfrequently 
 happens on board yachts that married men are 
 addicted to excessively penurious habits ; their 
 self-denial is certainly much to their credit. In 
 our crew, Brown and Old Tom were benedicks, 
 and exhibited these characteristics of their state 
 somewhat conspicuously. It is usual in yachts for 
 the men to find their own provisions out of their 
 twenty-five shillings a week. The captain does 
 not generally mess with the crew, but in our case 
 he did, as they were all well known to one another 
 and came from the same port. Brown, therefore, 
 and Old Tom, sat at the head and foot of the 
 table, and they set an example of abstemiousness 
 which the rest thought themselves obliged to 
 follow. These melancholy presidents occasionall}- 
 found near our anchorage, to their great delight, 
 a bank of large mussels, and afterwards one of 
 the boats would be constantly away collecting- 
 them. These shell-fish were eaten with pepper 
 and vinegar, and some I tasted seemed not alto- 
 gether despicable ; but Old Tom asserted they 
 were very fattening, and much better than oysters, 
 because there was more in them.
 
 236 YA CIITING. 
 
 Mussels now became the order of the da)-. 
 Brown and Tom were charmed at the idea of 
 living so cheaply ; but the countenances of the 
 others as the unsavoury molluscs appeared day 
 after day became increasingly rueful. A great 
 struggle was going on within them, between 
 their respect for the captain and their carnal 
 appetite. Billy's nose grew more and more 
 peaky every day, and he betrayed evident signs of 
 giving in. At length one afternoon, on his in- 
 quiring what there was to be for dinner, and being 
 told 'Some more of them fine mussels,' he became 
 openly and disgracefully mutinous. 
 
 ' What, mussels again ? Fine mussels, indeed ! 
 I'll tell you what it is, captain, we've had too 
 much of them.' 
 
 ' Then do a little less,' said Brown dryly. 
 
 'We've had too much of them,' persisted Billy. 
 * We ought to have some rashers now and then, 
 or a nice beefsteak, and ' 
 
 ' Well, I never in all my life !' interrupted Old 
 Tom. ' Here's a chap a-complaining of his grub, 
 as has good mussels and tea three times a day ! 
 W^ell, I never did know anything like these tailorin' 
 chaps.' 
 
 ' No more did I,' chimed in Brown. ' Do you 
 know, young man, that every kind of disease is to
 
 THE YACHT'S CREW. 237 
 
 be found among people that live on animal 
 food ?' 
 
 The altercation which ensued, and in which 
 Billy spoke with great eloquence, for his words 
 came from his heart, if not from a lower region, 
 had the good effect of improving the forecastle 
 mess. But the desire on the part of the family 
 men to live on next to nothing remained un- 
 abated, and out of respect for their motive, and 
 fear for their health, we occasionally made them a 
 present of something more nutritious. 
 
 (It may have been remarked that when the 
 sweethearting subject was started, Sam said that 
 ' his books were made up.' In fact, he was 
 engaged, and shortly afterwards left us to marry a 
 donkey-woman at Ilfracombe. She was a widow, 
 who, although she had four children, had managed 
 by thrift to save a small sum of money. For 
 some time after this wedding Sam's lumbering 
 figure was to be seen about Ilfracombe driving a 
 little pony-chaise. The other sailors made fun of 
 him, and chaffed him about being ' shipwrecked '; 
 for, not being accustomed to driving, he sometimes 
 upset his customers. Perhaps this irritated him ; 
 certainly he grew more and more discontented, 
 and made himself proportionably disagreeable to 
 his wife. And so, one lovely summer morning.
 
 238 VA CHTING. 
 
 he rose at five o'clock, gave her and her four 
 children, as I heard, a good 'walloping' all round, 
 and embarked on board a ship for Australia.) 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Abervrac'h. 
 
 A LITTLE breeze sprang up during the night, and 
 in the morning the lighthouse on He Vierge was 
 visible, and a line of rocks extending from it, 
 which reminded me of the 'haycocks' at Scilly, 
 but which, Brown said, looked like a street of ware- 
 houses. After looking about for some time for a 
 pilot-boat, we espied a small dark sail marked 
 with an anchor making towards us. We hoisted 
 our signal, which was answered, and we saw the 
 two motley occupants of the boat making all 
 kinds of frantic exertions with their heavy oars to 
 propel their craft more briskly through the water. 
 The wind had fallen to a zephyr, but at length we 
 drew them alongside, and a quaint looking in- 
 dividual, in patchwork attire and a broad-brimmed 
 hat, kicked off his sabots out of compliment to 
 ' monsieur,' and leaped on board. We were 
 beginning to fear that our pilot could speak
 
 ABERVRACH. 239 
 
 nothing but Breton, for the name of the place — 
 Abervrac'h — seemed alarmingly Welsh, and were 
 trying to muster a little Gaelic, when Old Tom 
 set us at rest by asking his usual question, ' Parley- 
 votis Fvancais ? — Do you know what sour bread 
 and vinegar means ?' To the former part of which 
 the man replied, * Ya-as, me speak Engleesh.' 
 But this was an empty boast, and only that Sam 
 could speak Welsh, we should have been in diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 We now turned our bow towards land, passing 
 the dangerous rocks known as the Grand Pot dc 
 Beure and the Petit Pot de Benre. 
 
 While landing, we were much diverted by 
 the antics and misfortunes of two old wives who 
 had essayed to navigate a boat across the river. 
 One had got the sail half up, while the other was 
 steering off the wind so that her companion could 
 not raise the other half. To make matters worse, 
 they were shaping such a course as inevitably to 
 run into a chasscinayee which was lying like an 
 overgrown butterboat in the middle of the 
 stream. In this difficulty, instead of letting down 
 the sail or putting the helm to starboard, they 
 began to assail each other with the vilest abuse, 
 and to gesticulate in a manner which threatened 
 personal violence. In the hottest part of the con-
 
 24 o YACHTING. 
 
 tention their bowsprit ran right into the lugger, 
 and both were thrown flat on their backs in the 
 bottom of the boat. The colHsion aroused the 
 crew of the vessel, who, in their turn, discharged 
 a broadside of imprecations at the pair, such as 
 are only to be found in a sailor's — perhaps a French 
 sailor's — repertory. But the good ladies did not 
 seem to have learned wisdom by this disaster, for 
 as soon as they regained their legs they were as 
 noisy as ever, and as we rowed to land their shrill 
 discordant voices were plainly audible above the 
 general uproar. 
 
 After a good dinner in a bedroom at the little 
 inn, we went out for a stroll, and found an old 
 sacred well dedicated to St. Anthony, to whose 
 w^aters healing virtues are attributed, reminding 
 us a little of St. Ruan's in Cornwall. It con- 
 sisted of a square basin arched over and adorned 
 with a figure of the saint. 
 
 The day after our arrival was the festival of St. 
 John, and it was observed here, as at Penzance, 
 by lighting bonfires on the hills and around the 
 shore. This is said by Borlase to be a remnant of 
 ' Druidical ' worship, and to be connected with 
 the ancient purificatory fires of Moloch. I may 
 observe that once when I was in Ireland I saw 
 the people jumping over bonfires, and driving
 
 ABERVRACH. 241 
 
 their cattle over them at Midsummer ' for good 
 luck.' 
 
 In the evening all the villagers of Abervrac'h 
 v/ere collected beside a bonfire on the beach, and 
 knelt round it in a ring, the men on one side and 
 the women on the other, while the latter one after 
 another repeated prayers, some of great length. 
 Small sprays of a plant named after the saint 
 were then passed through the fire, and handed to 
 the worshippers to take home — they were sup- 
 posed to possess healing virtues, and to be par- 
 ticularly good for weak eyes. Some women 
 carried pieces of the plant away, blazing, to place 
 it in water, which would thus acquire restorative 
 properties. I never beheld a scene which repre- 
 sented so vividly ancient Pagan rites. We have 
 in our ' Sunday,' and probably in the eastern 
 posture and orientation of churches, traces of the 
 early sun-worship. Some have attributed to this 
 source the celebration of Christmas in the winter 
 solstice instead of in the spring. 
 
 During our stay at Abervrac'h we made several 
 excursions into the surrounding country, and on 
 one occasion came to a small town whose aspect 
 was unusually dismal and lifeless. Its quaint old 
 houses were green with damp ; the wide market- 
 place was not adorned with a single tree, nor 
 
 61
 
 242 YACHTING. 
 
 trodden by any living creature save a gaunt dung- 
 hill cock, who wandered absently about like a 
 phantom in a land of shadows. During our stay 
 in the town I only saw one man cross this place, 
 and he seemed an aimless being far removed from 
 the outer world — silent and self-contained. On 
 one side of the square was a house on which 
 * Tabac ' was still legible ; it had evidently re- 
 -..ained untouched and unrepaired for ages, and 
 on the wall opposite I could just decipher the 
 seemingly ironical notice, ' A la reunion des Culti- 
 vateurs.' 
 
 We should have left this town with the idea 
 that some great calamity had lately befallen it ; 
 that it was a doomed place, a habitation of lepers 
 — though, indeed, the bars of the windows re- 
 minded us of lunatic asylums — had we not met in 
 the main street a smart little Frenchwoman who 
 seemed much out of place in such a gloomy 
 locality. We applied to her for a solution of the 
 mystery. She smiled, and told us, with a twinkle 
 in her eye, that the cause of the dreariness we 
 observed was that all the inhabitants of the town 
 \vere old maids or old bachelors. She herself was a 
 stranger there, but sometimes came to obtain 
 orders, though there was very little business 
 doing. The only people who fiourished there 
 were the lawvers, for the inhabitants were always
 
 ABERVRACH. 243 
 
 quarrelling. Somebody's cat had been too 
 attentive to somebody's canary ; somebody's 
 parrot had nipped the nose of somebody's lap- 
 dog ; and although a case could seldom be made 
 out, they invariably applied for summonses. She 
 was only acquainted with one person in the town, 
 and indeed did not wish to know more, as she was 
 afraid of them, they were so ' fierce.' There had 
 not been a marriage there for ten years, there 
 were no balls or soirees, and not even a dinner- 
 party, for all the people dined at different hours, 
 and not one would alter his time, even for one 
 day, to accept the hospitality of his neighbour. 
 The old ladies were scarcely acquainted, and kept 
 up little communication among themselves, but 
 were always imputing to one another such irregu- 
 larities as might have been supposed the most 
 improbable. The gentlemen, on the contrary, met 
 nearly every day at the cafe, discussed and com- 
 pared their dinners and breakfasts, talked over 
 their maladies and the effects of various nostrums 
 they had tried, and seemed to live the lives of 
 angels in their indifference to all human affairs. 
 They were all very indolent, seldom rising before 
 noon, and were profoundly ignorant of all the 
 social and political events of the day. Although 
 no burglary had ever been known to be committed 
 
 16 — 2
 
 244 yA CHTING. 
 
 in the neighbourhood, all the windows were pro- 
 vided with iron gratings, and with bells and 
 alarums, and all the doors were double-bolted at 
 seven o'clock winter and summer. 
 
 While we lay off Abervrac'h, one of our men 
 was taken ill. As his symptoms appeared serious 
 we sent the steward, who was very proud of the 
 French he had acquired, to ask where the doctor 
 lived. He returned with the incredible informa- 
 tion that there had not been one in the neigh- 
 bourhood for two years. We were greatly dis- 
 concerted, and I was so much surprised, that 
 I went to make inquiries myself. I found that 
 our portly representative had been asking for a 
 physicien (an impostor or cheapjack) and that 
 the doctor lived only two miles off. On his 
 arrival, although he at first recounted a list of 
 fearful maladies from which the man might be 
 suffering, he finally assured us that he was in no 
 danger, and gave restoratives which soon rendered 
 him convalescent. 
 
 Billy, who had never been in France before, was 
 much astonished at what he saw when he went on 
 shore. Some of his observations greatly amused 
 the men. 
 
 ' Well !' he exclaimed, looking round, ' I 
 always heard that the French were poor, but I 
 never knew the women could not afford bonnets !'
 
 LIFE A T MOLENE. 245 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Life at Molene. 
 
 One of the principal objects I had in view in 
 selecting Brittany for our summer excursion was 
 to visit Ushant, whose remote and isolated 
 position on the map had often attracted my 
 longing eyes. There is scarcely any habitation in 
 Europe so entirely separated from civilization, for 
 it stands beyond the extreme west of Brittany, at 
 the head of the Bay of Biscay, exposed to the 
 utmost fury of the Atlantic gales. The ocean is 
 here so rough, and the rocks so numerous, that 
 vessels keep as far from the neighbourhood as 
 possible, and the inhabitants are often unable to 
 have any communication with the mainland for 
 three weeks consecutively. It is a remarkable 
 fact, and characteristic of the state of society in 
 Ushant, that but a hundred and fifty years ago 
 its inhabitants were idolaters. 
 
 Accordingly, at ten o'clock the day after our 
 arrival at Abervrac'h, I prepared for a start. 
 The wind was blowing dead up the river, 
 and tacking out proved a long and tedious 
 undertaking. When at length we were fairly 
 at sea, the water appeared very ' lumpy,' and
 
 246 YACHTING. 
 
 the yacht jumped about so much, that more 
 than one of the men met with what Old Tom 
 facetiously termed ' a turn on the lee quarter." 
 Under the circumstances Ushant appeared out of 
 the question, and we determined upon shaping our 
 course for Brest ; but as we were obliged to make 
 a considerable circuit to avoid the rocks, which 
 extend for several miles out to sea, we came so 
 well within sight of the island that I thought it 
 worth while to make an attempt to carry out our 
 original plan. We accordingly made for Stiff 
 Bay and the lighthouse, and on coming within two 
 miles of it hoisted our jack at the masthead. 
 No pilot boat appeared in answer to the signal, 
 nothing was to be seen moving, and we coasted 
 along the south of the island by several sheltered 
 and tempting bays, without daring to approach 
 near enough to anchor. At length, when we 
 were debating whether sve should relinquish our 
 enterprise or enter the most promising roadstead, 
 a boat was observed sailing in our direction with 
 a flag flying in answer to ours. As it came nearer 
 we put about to let it reach us, but instead of 
 drawing alongside, they ran right into our stern, 
 and barely escaped doing serious damage. There 
 were about a dozen people in it, and a general 
 hubbub and scramble now ensued among them,
 
 LIFE AT MOLENE. 247 
 
 every man giving orders, shouting and gesticu- 
 lating ; but no pilot essayed to come on board, 
 and as they were speaking Breton we did not 
 understand a word they said. They were soon 
 free of us again, carried away some distance by the 
 large waves, but they directed us by signs to bring 
 up, that they might make another attempt. This 
 time the feat was accomplished, and when the 
 pilot came on board we were not surprised that 
 he had not ventured on the former occasion, for 
 he was so intoxicated that he could scarcely 
 stand. I never understood more fully the Irish- 
 man's meaning when he told the captain who was 
 wanting a pilot that ' he was better than a pilot, 
 he was a temperance man.' Brown, who was 
 himself a conscientious and severe abstainer, con- 
 templated our new acquaintance with undisguised 
 horror and contempt. 
 
 ' What are we to do, sir ?' he inquired of me 
 uneasily ; ' this man is in no state to take charge 
 of the vessel. I only wish his boat wasn't gone, 
 we'd soon have him back into it again.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Old Tom, surveying him with 
 evident appreciation, ' he do seem as though he'd 
 had a quart too much vinegar to-day' (Old Tom 
 was no advocate for French wines). 
 
 '\lc hon pilotc, mc boii pilotc,' replied the culprit
 
 248 YACHTING. 
 
 in question, who seemed to have caught the drift 
 cf their observations. 
 
 ' But I don't like this,' persisted Brown, whose 
 countenance was full of anxiety and care'. ' I 
 don't like this. What's that ?' he said, pointing 
 to some swirling water alongside. ' That's a rock. 
 You know one " dap " would do for us, sir, and there 
 are things more valuable even than the vessel.' 
 
 ^ Me bon pilotc,' reiterated the pilot, 'I've been 
 to a festival of the saint, and have taken a little 
 too much, but I'm good for the service. Hoist 
 the blanchet /' 
 
 ' You ought to be tossed in a blanket,' replied 
 Brown, who understood, however, by the man's 
 signs that he was to set the foresail. ' What am I 
 to do, sir ?' he inquired, turning to me. 
 
 ' We seem to have no choice,' I answered ; ' we 
 are encircled by rocks, and not well acquainted 
 with the tides. No other pilot can be ob- 
 tained, and I hold the people in that boat re- 
 sponsible.' 
 
 Upon determining to commit the vessel to our 
 genial friend, Brown took his station at the mast- 
 head, as from that height he could see rocks twent}- 
 or thirty feet below the surface, or observe the water 
 breaking over them, and might possibly be in time 
 to prevent a serious accident. The pilot put the
 
 LIFE AT MOLENE. 249 
 
 head of the vessel about, and sailed in a southerly 
 direction. 
 
 'Where are you going to?' I inquired; 'this is 
 not the way to Ushant.' 
 
 ' No,' he replied, ' we cannot go to Ushant to- 
 day ; the tide has turned, and it's not safe ; I'm 
 going to Molene — better for you, better for me.' 
 
 The latter part of this observation proved ad- 
 mirably correct. The passage to this island, 
 which is about seven miles from Ushant, is particu- 
 larly dangerous, being beset by rocks of ever}- 
 kind and description. In some places they rose 
 like fortresses, in others extended like ruined 
 towns and villages. They were, in general, more 
 in groups than the rocks at Scilly, but they other- 
 wise resembled them, and many bear similar old 
 British or Celtic names. 
 
 On we sailed — we almost seemed to fly, for the 
 breeze was strong — into the very midst of the rock- 
 set shoals ; the drunken pilot nodding and sway- 
 ing backward and forwards on the binnacle, like 
 a figure of Guy Fawkes on the fifth of November. 
 It seemed perfectly wonderful how he could guide 
 the vessel, but he did so very accurately, and how 
 the crew could understand his orders ; but there 
 seemed a kind of freemasonry between them, and 
 although the men did not know the meaning of
 
 2 50 YA CHTING. 
 
 his words, they executed his orders with great 
 skill and celerity. 
 
 The man principally occupied himself in talking 
 to me. He could speak a little broken French, 
 and made up in volubility what was wanting in 
 sense. He told me that he lived in jMolene, and 
 that all the chief people in the island, including 
 the Mayor and Syndic, had been to Ushant, and 
 were returning in the boat from which we had 
 taken him. He said he was the best pilot in the 
 islands, and had a pupil, or, as he called him, an 
 * aspirant,' under his care. He had also saved the 
 lives of I know not how many people, and had a 
 number of decorations, some from the Emperor, 
 and some from our Queen, whose partiality for 
 him he accounted for by observing that his name 
 was Victor, and hers Victoria. He had taken off the 
 only three saved out of the Columbia. She struck 
 on the Helle rock (Sir Cloudesley Shovel was lost 
 off the Hell-weathers in Scilly), and sank so in- 
 stantaneously that the three men who happened to 
 be on deck w^ere the only persons saved. 
 
 We congratulated ourselves very much on 
 threading our course so successfully, but on 
 approaching Molene looked in vain for the quiet 
 anchorage we had been promised, and saw 
 nothing but an open roadstead entirely exposed to
 
 LIFE A T MOLENE. 1 5 r 
 
 the north wind, which was blowing strong and 
 threatening to increase. The pilot pointed to a 
 buoy in the centre of this bay, and told us that if 
 we made fast to that we should be perfectly safe, 
 for that a frigate could not move it. This appeared 
 to us both uncomfortable and unsatisfactory ; — 
 we hoped to have seen some protection to wind- 
 ward, for here we should be pitching about, 
 dependent only upon the strength of our cable ta 
 preserve us from total destruction. 
 
 We found that the pilot was correct in asserting 
 that his state of intoxication did not prevent his 
 being up to his business, for he made a most 
 exorbitant demand for placing us in this dangerous 
 position, and let me know that he would charge me 
 twice as much for taking us out. I expostulated 
 and resisted the imposition, but in vain, and he 
 quietly observed that there was no other pilot in 
 the island, and that if I did not treat him with 
 proper politeness and respect he would not come 
 on board at all, nor take us away from the island. 
 This opened an entirely new view of the case — • 
 visiting Molene might be a pleasant freak, but to 
 be kept there indefinitely in a dangerous position, 
 and probably without sleep, would be something 
 beyond a joke. I thought of the anxiety of my 
 friends, of bad provisions, and a variety of dis-.
 
 252 YACHriNG. 
 
 comforts, and found m}- hand insensibly approach- 
 ing my pocket, and my tones becoming far more 
 soft and conciHatory. 
 
 On going on shore I was surprised to see so 
 many houses ; the island contains altogether 
 about 600 people. Our pilot was evidently a great 
 man in the place ; he talked an immensity about 
 his workmen, and showed us the foundations of a 
 house they were building, which was to cost 8,000 
 francs. He kept a sort of inn, and invited me to 
 come in with him and drink, but on my informing 
 him that I would rather eat, replied that he had 
 nothing to offer me but bacon. 
 
 On leaving the house with Brown to stroll 
 round the island, I met a priest, who pre- 
 sented a most fantastical appearance. He looked 
 as though he had not washed or shaved for a 
 week, wore immense spectacles, and with his 
 large hat and his petticoats streaming in the 
 wind was certainly as strange a combination as 
 I ever beheld. He was, however, remarkably 
 polite, and I should leave on record some of his 
 civil speeches, had he not been far surpassed b}' 
 the Syndic, who came up shortly afterwards, and 
 grasped our hands as though we had been his 
 oldest friends. He welcomed us officially as well 
 as cordially to the island, and insisted on our
 
 LIFE AT MOLENE. 253 
 
 immediately accompanying him to his house — a 
 substantial building surrounded by a little garden. 
 
 This had once been a church, but a second story 
 had been formed in it, and Brown stood amazed 
 at the massive beams which supported the floor. 
 
 ' Not too strong,' said the Syndic, observing him ; 
 'you should hear them dancing up there on 
 wedding-days !' 
 
 There were several chambers on this upper 
 floor, one of which, according to the custom 
 of the country, he used as his sitting and 
 bed room. Here he motioned us to chairs, drew 
 out a small table, and summoned his servant — an 
 elderly woman — who speedily appeared. She 
 seemed a most respectable person, and exerted 
 herself greatly in our behalf, setting before us 
 tumblers of raw brandy, to Brown's great horror, 
 and following it up with Bordeaux wine and 
 flaming mixture in a punchbowl. 
 
 ' Well,' exclaimed Brown, unable to keep silence 
 longer, ' I have heard of men drinking fire, but I 
 never saw it before. Take care what you do, sir ; 
 that's all pure spirit.' 
 
 The eatables were not so plentiful, but the 
 woman made us a savoury plat with potatoes and 
 beefsteak, the only morsel of fresh meat, I believe, 
 on the island — and mixed an excellent salad from
 
 254 YACHTING. 
 
 some lettuces of her own growing. During the 
 meal the Mayor's wife, a pretty pleasant girl, came 
 to ask our host to dine with them, who flattered 
 us by observing that he preferred our company. 
 
 Glasses were now filled, and we became more 
 merry and communicative. It appeared that the 
 Syndic's authority extended over all the adjacent 
 islands, with the exception of Ushant. He was a 
 naval officer, and was placed there to superintend 
 the life-boat service. A great many shipwrecks take 
 place around the islands, and the Government, to 
 maintain an available amount of assistance, give 
 support to the inhabitants for two months in the 
 year. All exert themselves when a vessel is in 
 danger — the women in praying and drawing the 
 life-boat, the sailors in manning and launching it, 
 and the priest in blessing the sea. ' That dog,' he 
 continued, pointing to one in the room, ' has saved 
 many lives, and can take a rope on board a wreck.' 
 
 He was a fine animal of the sheep-dog species, 
 and showed great intelligence. While we were 
 at dinner he abstracted my gloves out of my 
 pocket, and made a meal of them under the table. 
 His master said he was good at catching rabbits, 
 but, unfortunately, there were none in Molene, 
 although plenty in the smaller islands. 
 
 Our host had all the good-humour and vivacity
 
 LIFE A T MOLENE. 2 5 5 
 
 of a Frenchman, and as his hbations grew deeper, 
 became more and more confidential. He told us 
 all about his private affairs with an absence of 
 reserve seldom found in Englishmen. 
 
 ' I live here all alone,' he observed, ' except for 
 a month or so, when my wife comes from Brest 
 to pay me a visit. Having been all my life in the 
 navy, and visited nearly every country in the 
 world, I now like the quiet and isolation of the 
 Molene, where I expect to end my days. I 
 should like, perhaps, a little more society, for the 
 priest is the only educated man on the island ; the 
 Mayor is an honest fellow, but a mere peasant. My 
 annual income from the Government amounts to 
 2,000 francs, and I pay twenty francs a year for my 
 house. I pay my servant, whom you saw, eight francs 
 a month, for which she cooks, cleans the rooms, and 
 digs the garden. There is my establishment. There 
 is the carpet on which my dog sleeps ; here are my 
 clothes ' — pulling some of them out of a chest of 
 drawers, and holding them up — ' and there is my 
 bed, very much at your service if you like to sleep 
 in it ; or you either,' he added, turning to Brown. 
 
 The latter shook his head, and made him 
 understand that he couldn't sleep anywhere while 
 the yacht was in such a dangerous position. 
 Mine host laughed, and told him all was safe, and
 
 2 56 YACHTING. 
 
 that he might ' sleep on his ear.' At the same 
 time he kept pressing him to take some wine, and 
 evidently could not understand his being a tee- 
 totaler, or why he would not drink. At length 
 he began to make fun of him for looking grave, 
 and to poke him good-humouredly in the ribs — 
 an operation which Brown did. not appreciate, 
 and seemed a little inclined to resent. The latter 
 finally rose, and observed that he did not like to 
 stay longer away from the vessel. 
 
 Soon after his departure we left the house to 
 walk round the island. The Syndic talked by the 
 way about politics and international matters. He 
 was evidently greatly impressed with the power 
 and glory of France. 
 
 ' We like the English,' he observed, ' and wish 
 to be on good terms with them. It is to the 
 interest of both that we should be allied. France 
 and England together can command the world. 
 You want us very much in India.' 
 
 ' I was not aware of that,' I replied. 
 
 ' Oh yes,' he explained ; ' to withstand the 
 Russians. They are making great encroachments 
 in India, and you want us to keep them out for 
 you. You'll be obliged to call us in sooner or 
 later. We respect all nations, but we also defy 
 them — we defy them.'
 
 LIFE A T MOLENE. 2 5 7 
 
 The island, which is somewhat rocky, appeared 
 to be about a mile in diameter, and slightly 
 elevated towards the centre. We passed a con- 
 siderable number of cows grazing, and several 
 fields of barley, which grows well here, although 
 wheat will not thrive. I was told that there were 
 figs, pears, and grapes here, although not at 
 Ushant ; but they must have been on a small 
 scale, for I saw no signs of them. The principal 
 source of profit in this and the smaller islands is 
 from burning seaweed to make soda — a manu- 
 facture protected by the Government. So con- 
 siderable a business of this kind was carried on 
 formerly on the coast of Scotland and Ireland, 
 that the repeal of the duty on barilla and salt, 
 from which soda is obtained, threw 20,000 people 
 in Orcadia alone out of employment. 
 
 After our walk we proceeded to the church, 
 where, although it was late, we found several 
 peasants at their devotions. Thence we visited 
 the Mayor, a man of corporate proportions, very 
 affable, and very well contented with himself, and 
 evidently not altogether pleased with the Syndic's 
 excuses and disparagement of the island. From 
 this we returned to the pilot's house. Although 
 the exterior of it had that neglected appearance 
 not uncommon in France, and the lower rooms 
 
 17
 
 258 yachting: 
 
 were full of sailors carousing, the upper apartment, 
 into which I was shown, was remarkably neat. 
 It contained two irreproachable beds, and its 
 walls were adorned with alternate pictures of 
 saints and naval combats. Finding the room so 
 comfortable, I determined to remain in it for the 
 night, following Brown's recommendation, who 
 said I should not be able to sleep comfortably on 
 board. I accordingly directed that the table beside 
 the bed should be prepared, and ordered an omelet 
 and bottle of wine for the Syndic and myself ; and 
 the pilot soon honoured us with the presence of 
 himself and his bottle of brandy. I took the 
 opportunity of complaining to the Syndic of the 
 overcharge to which I had been subjected ; but 
 that good-natured functionary evidently recognised 
 the difference between a foreigner and a neighbour, 
 and only shrugged his shoulders and begged him 
 to be ' reasonable,' and to 'continue in his honour- 
 able course !' With regard to his state of in- 
 ebriation, he said the pilot was of more use when 
 he was drunk than when he was sober — an obser- 
 vation which I thought did not argue well for his 
 skill in navigation, but he explained himself to 
 mean that a man had sometimes more energy 
 when he was intoxicated, and would avoid danger 
 which otherwise he might run into.
 
 LIFE AT MOLENE. 259 
 
 The pilot's wife was a thin careworn creature, 
 with a scared expression of countenance, but 
 would have been decidedly good looking, had not 
 the life she had led made her prematurely old. She 
 spoke with great feeling of the disasters which 
 were constantly occurring on the coast, and of 
 the mutilated state in which shipwrecked people 
 were brought into the inn. I was the first person 
 from England, she said, who had come as a visitor 
 to the island. The husband, with whom inebria- 
 tion seemed to be a normal state, went on through 
 the evening talking very thickly and incoherently, 
 and summoning his wife, Justine, every now and 
 then by stamping on the floor with his heavy 
 wooden-soled boots. Sometimes he grew irritable, 
 sometimes jovial and generous ; and in one of 
 these latter fits he exuberantly said he would give 
 me anything he possessed in the world except his 
 wife, but that he could not afford to part with her, 
 as she was very good to him, and never required 
 to he kicked. 
 
 It was midnight before this worthy took his 
 departure, and in bidding good-night he told me 
 that I must be ready to start at five in the morning. 
 The Syndic observed that as it was late, and there 
 was another bed in the room, he might as well 
 occupy it and remain till morning. Before four 
 
 17 — 2
 
 26o YACHTING. 
 
 o'clock, his dog, who seemed to have as little 
 regard for his master's orders as the other inhabi- 
 tants of the island, commenced howling and 
 barking in a manner which made sleep impossible, 
 and I accordingly rose and dressed myself. At 
 five, after thanking and shaking hands with the 
 Syndic in his bed, I presented myself below. The 
 pilot was not ready, but even at that early hour 
 the house was full of fishermen, smoking and 
 drinking brandy. The spirit principally consumed 
 here is a deleterious and spurious cau de vie, made 
 from beet root, and unfortunately very cheap. 
 At six the pilot made his appearance, somewhat 
 more sensible than the night before. It was sad 
 to see such a strong young man ruining his con- 
 stitution early in life. He told me that there were 
 three pilots belonging to the island, but that two 
 were away, and that more money could be made 
 in fishing than in piloting. Although still not per- 
 fectly clear in his head, he was much more polite 
 than on the previous day. He told me, indeed, 
 on our being settled in his boat, that he felt a very 
 great respect for me, and would hoist a flag in my 
 honour — a very dirty one which he pulled out of 
 his pocket. I cared little for his appreciation, 
 having made up my mind that he was a drunkard 
 and a cheat.
 
 LIFE AT MOLENE. 261 
 
 Although Brest is a fine town and has a splendid 
 harbour, there is little merchant shipping there. 
 But the naval establishments are magnificent, and 
 the sailors are a remarkably fine body of men — 
 a great contrast to the French soldiers. We 
 happened to be there when the strawberries were 
 in season, and the whole town was fragrant with 
 them. They are cultivated upon the hill-sides 
 along the river, and can be bought for two or 
 three sous a pound. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Roscoff. — The Bretons.— Sark. 
 
 On our return voyage * up along,' we put into 
 Roscoff (Rosecough our men called it), a small 
 town in Brittany, little known, but the place 
 where Mary Queen of Scots landed when a child. 
 It is now mostly remarkable for its vivarium, and 
 for a gigantic fig-tree. The latter is in the garden 
 of the Capuchin convent, and its branches, which 
 are supported by thirty stone pillars, would afford 
 shade to two hundred persons. We found it in 
 perfect health, covered with fruit, and in need of 
 constant pruning to keep it within bounds. 
 
 The day after our arrival we rowed to a point
 
 262 YACHTING. 
 
 outside the harbour, to visit the great receptacle 
 for lobsters and crayfish. It is the largest in 
 France, and has been formed by running a wall 
 across an inlet of the sea. The water was 
 beautifully transparent, and we could plainly 
 observe the strange-looking inhabitants — the red 
 crayfish clustered together along the banks, and 
 the black lobsters gliding over the bottom. The 
 former are a quiet and dignified community, but 
 the latter are vicious and pugnacious, often 
 engaging one another in deadly combats, which 
 terminate in the vanquished being not only beaten 
 but eaten. The fish are sent to Paris and 
 London — in the former capital the crayfish are 
 preferred. We were told there were 20,000 fish 
 in the preserve, and that 30,000 escaped through a 
 hole the year before, causing the property a loss 
 of as many francs. 
 
 But Roscoff has also a fragrant celebrity. It is 
 the chief port for the onion trade, and I am afraid 
 is responsible for those sailors in blue suits and 
 broad-brims who perambulate our sea-coast towns 
 in the summer carrying long odorous strings. The 
 day before our departure a vessel left with a cargo 
 of this kind for Guernsey. She was as crazy 
 an old smack as ever I beheld, but the captain 
 told me he had several ' lady-passengers ' — that is,
 
 ROSCOFF. 263 
 
 onion ladies — who were going to be present at the 
 sale of their crops. The day of leaving was made 
 the occasion for a general jollification ; the virtues 
 of cau de vie were put to the test, and the result 
 was an almost incredible uproar and confusion. 
 Before loosing from the quay, a conflict carried 
 on with rotten onions took place between those 
 on board and those on shore, and as the craft 
 moved away the clamour was redoubled, rival 
 shoutings and screechings were raised on both 
 sides, and one man danced so vigorously in his 
 sabots on the deck that the captain, afraid of his 
 falling overboard, took the precaution of having 
 him lashed to the mast. At length they were 
 out of sight and hearing, and I afterwards con- 
 gratulated myself that I did not form one of the 
 jovial company, for the wind turned against them, 
 and before daylight they encountered a very 
 heavy sea. (They were out two days and nights.) 
 The captain of the craft was an Englishman, 
 and before leaving very civilly sent us a present of 
 fish. I called to thank him, and he told me his 
 crew was composed entirely of Frenchmen, and 
 that he did not place much confidence in them. 
 The winter before last he had lost a fine vessel on 
 that coast. A gale came on, and the men all went 
 below to say their prayers when they were most
 
 c64 YACHTING. 
 
 wanted on deck. In vain he implored them to 
 come up,and pray and work at the same time. They 
 were obdurate ; but when the vessel finally struck, 
 they rushed up and took possession of the boat, 
 leaving him alone on board, so that had not a 
 pilot-boat accidentally come up he could not 
 possibly have survived. The French coast is more 
 dangerous than ours, and the French sailors less 
 capable, so that they have an habitual dread of 
 the sea, and, when any difficulty arises, are inclined 
 to think their only hope of safety lies in the special 
 interposition of Heaven. 
 
 The lives of the Breton peasants in this neigh- 
 bourhood are primitive in the extreme. They 
 may be said to be self-supporting, for they buy 
 scarcely anything with the exception of clothes. 
 They rise at five, and the young men and girls go 
 forth to labour in the fields. One elderly woman — 
 the mother generally — stays at home to prepare 
 the meals, which she does three times a day, with 
 an amount of care that would surprise the wife of 
 an English peasant. She shreds the onions into 
 the great black pot, which is always hanging over 
 the hearth, and after frying them judiciously with 
 lard, throws in a dishful of sliced potatoes ; 
 measures accurately the quantity of water to be 
 added, and seasons the whole with a handful of
 
 THE BRETONS. 265 
 
 black salt. She then sets a sufficient number of 
 bowls, clean and bright, upon the wooden table, 
 and shreds into each some of the great dark 
 household loaf. The family, who have made a 
 light meal at six, return from their work and 
 assemble round the board at twelve, and again at 
 seven, each meal consisting of the same description 
 of soup. At eight they retire for the night, the 
 same room being kitchen, parlour and bedchamber. 
 All the rest of the rooms above and below are 
 used for lumber and stores, and are usually half 
 empty. Their beds, according to the number of 
 the family, are shut in by wooden slides along the 
 wall, and resemble the berths on board ship. 
 There is also very often in the centre of the room 
 a square wooden box, which looks like a large safe 
 or a high family pew, and affords ample and 
 luxurious accommodation for the master and 
 mistress of the house. All this panelling is kept 
 very bright, and generally ornamented with carv- 
 ing; and the whole apartment, with its wide hearth 
 and swinging caldron, gives an idea of old-fashioned 
 comfort and simplicity. The family generally keep 
 a pig and a cow, to supply them with milk and meat, 
 make their own bread and butter, and grow their 
 vegetables. They also knit their own stockings, 
 where such articles are worn ; but they are not
 
 266 VA CHTING. 
 
 generally in use, a wisp of straw stuffed into the 
 sabot being generally the cheap and fashionable 
 substitute. 
 
 We were fortunate in the breeze on our voyage 
 to Sark, and made a rapid passage. There is no 
 harbour in the island, and as we had only a choice 
 of roadsteads, determined upon selecting the 
 nearest, and anchored to the north of Brechou, a 
 small island divided from Sark by a narrow channel. 
 
 Sark rises everywhere precipitously from the sea, 
 and the view through this channel, in the centre of 
 which stands a tall conical rock, to the headland 
 beyond, is remarkably fine. We rowed round a 
 point to Port de Moulin, to find an easier passage 
 over the cliffs, and disembarking, seated ourselves 
 on some boulders which stood in the upper end of 
 a beach of smooth stones. The rocks here were of 
 grand proportions, not of a dull gray, but of a 
 roseate hue, and seemed to have taken strangely 
 fanciful forms. On one side was a natural arch- 
 way, through which you could see a square solid 
 rock of great size rising in isolated majesty from 
 the waves ; on the other stood a vast mass — a small 
 mountain, separated from the cliff by a very narrow 
 fissure, and pierced by a cavernous tunnel ; while 
 its summit was crowned by a rocky pile not un- 
 hke a ruined castle. (This latter is Tintageux, a
 
 SAJ^A\ 267 
 
 Celtic name, reminding us of old Cornwall.) The 
 semicircular cliffs above us were adorned with 
 bright green ivy. 
 
 I determined to wait on this shore, and to em- 
 bark at low water to visit the caves for which the 
 vicinity is celebrated. In rowing along to the 
 south west we observed several fissures and 
 cavities in the cliffs ; but the first of considerable 
 size was at the end of a narrow creek, and rose 
 above us like a vast portal. As we steered in 
 between the lofty faces of rock the water became 
 bright and smooth as a mirror, and it was difficult 
 to believe that the luxuriance of marine vegeta- 
 tion was not reflected from above. 
 
 In some places white rocks or sand shone from 
 below, and brought the forms of the overhanging 
 fuci into beautiful relief. We disembarked at the 
 entrance of the cave with some little difficulty, on 
 account of the size of the boulders which formed 
 its floor. Advancing and climbing over round 
 prostrate masses, such as I have heard aptly 
 termed ' rocks' eggs,' we came to a pool, through 
 which we were compelled to wade — so transparent 
 was it, that before I was aware I had stepped up 
 to my ankle in water. It was like an agate, and 
 on the bottom we observed star-fish, echini, and 
 sea anemones like blue and white flowers, some
 
 268 YACHTING. 
 
 resembling daisies, some stonecrops, some mesem- 
 bryanthemums. As I was passing from one sub- 
 merged boulder to another, I suddenly perceived 
 something moving in the water, and a hideous 
 creature with large eyes, bag-like body, and very 
 long legs came sliding along in a most ungainly 
 and alarming fashion. It was of a dark brown 
 colour, but on rising to the surface changed to 
 blue, and assumed a most diabohcal appearance ; 
 while with its tapering legs, or rather arms, it 
 kept insidiously exploring all the recesses in the 
 neighbourhood. The animal was one of those 
 pieuvrcs of which Victor Hugo has written, and his 
 thrilling story about the fisherman is not without 
 foundation, for these feelers have great power of 
 adhesion, and cling tightly to everything with 
 which they come in contact.* 
 
 On re-embarking we rowed still farther towards 
 
 * Brown told me he had once seen a bell-diver at Naples 
 come up with a creature of this kind attached to his back, 
 and that his companion in removing it tore off a considerable 
 portion of the man's flesh. Sir Grenville Temple told an 
 anecdote showing in what manner people may lose their lives 
 by these animals. A Sardinian captain bathing at Terbeh, 
 in the Mediterranean, felt one of his feet grasped ; he tried 
 with his other foot to disengage himself, but this was 
 immediately caught by another of the monster's arms. He 
 then seized it with his hands, but these also in succession 
 were firmly grasped by the polypus, and the unfortunate man 
 was found drowned with all his limbs strongly bound together, 
 in water only four feet deep.
 
 SA/^A'. 269 
 
 the south-west, the granite cliffs towering above 
 in massive grandeur, and assuming a green tint 
 in their highest acdivities. Green was also the 
 prevailing colour in the next cavern we entered, 
 which was of greater altitude than the last men- 
 tioned, but not of such length or regular propor- 
 tions. The floor was strewn, as in the other cases, 
 with blocks of granite; but as they were not 
 generally above two or three feet wide, we sur- 
 mounted them easily. On arriving at the central 
 and darkest part of the cavern I suddenly beheld 
 on one side a stream of white light. I found 
 that I was looking through a dark gallery in the 
 rock, and that within lay a clear lakelet, across 
 which the sun was casting a line of silver. By 
 moving my position I could see farther down this 
 rugged passage, and at its termination there was 
 another small lake of a bright turquoise blue, sur- 
 rounded by columns and arches of crimson rock. 
 The scene, lit up by the sun, had a magical effect, 
 and was like some artificial representations of the 
 abodes of sea-deities. The form of the cavern 
 was triangular, the floor being an obtuse angle 
 subtending the broad roof, which at its farther 
 end expanded into a vast natural dome, about a 
 hundred feet high, looking out upon the sea 
 through three archways. But the most wonder-
 
 270 YACHTING. 
 
 ful part was the incrustation upon the walls, 
 which were covered with crimson and green sea 
 anemones, as with rubies and emeralds. Brown 
 said they looked like bunches of cherries, but I 
 preferred the former simile. There were also, in 
 some parts, beautiful sponges, pink, orange, and 
 crimson, and thick coatings of barnacles. 
 
 These caves stand beside the narrow strait 
 which divides Brechou from Sark. By the daring 
 act of passing through this channel in a ten-gun 
 brig, Sir James (Lord) de Saumerez, a Jersey 
 man, escaped being taken by a French frigate. 
 
 The tide was running so strong that we should 
 have been unable to return had we continued, and 
 so we returned back towards Pointe du Nez. 
 This headland has obtained a sad celebrity from 
 the late Governor of the island (preceding the 
 Rev. Mr. Collins) having perished in the waves 
 beneath it. The tide runs with great force round 
 this point, and as the ground beneath is very 
 rocky, the water is much broken. One night the 
 lord of the isle, who was unmarried, had for some 
 reason, which we can only divine from his perse- 
 verance, set his heart upon being present at a 
 certain ball in Guernsey. The wind howled, the 
 waves roared, and the surf was running so high at 
 Creux that no boat could put to sea. The old
 
 SA/?A'. 271 
 
 sailors shook their heads when they heard of the 
 Governor's determination ; but men were found 
 hardy and loyal enough to make the attempt, and 
 a boat was launched from the Esperquerie on the 
 east of Pointe du Nez. It was only a small craft, 
 capable of being easily beached, for only such 
 could find shelter on that exposed coast. They 
 held their own tolerably well till they reached the 
 dreaded race or eddy, but there the waves became 
 terrific, and, after one or two had broken over the 
 little bark, a foaming mass caught her on the side 
 and turned her completely over. 
 
 We landed on the western side of this mournful 
 promontory to visit a group of caves known as the 
 Boutiques. After climbing over a barrier of rocks 
 and wading through a pool of water, such as 
 seems generally to lie at the mouth of tidal 
 caverns, we reached a large circular chamber, the 
 walls of which were of a rich red ochre colour. 
 Beside the grand portal we found another some- 
 what smaller, and just within it a roseate pool ; 
 for although many of the boulders which enclosed 
 it were deep green, those forming the basin were 
 clothed with a soft, rosy bloom. The water itself 
 was full of beautiful rhodosperms, which floated 
 through it to the very bottom, like fringes of 
 crimson moss. Every little spray in it was plainly
 
 272 YACHTING. 
 
 discernible, for the liquid medium seemed as clear 
 as air. Several of the stones round the margin 
 were beaded with small rare crimson zoophytes, 
 and deep on a smooth face of rock in the centre 
 of the pool lay a large blue anemone, a streaming 
 cluster like a velvet tassel. But perhaps the most 
 remarkable effect was produced by a seaweed, 
 apparently of the Carrigeen species, which glanced 
 like blue enamel. Outside this silent cavern the 
 wild cry of the seamew re-echoed round the cliffs ; 
 and the booming of the waves, eager to enter 
 their domains, warned us not to prolong our stay. 
 Sark produces some of the finest zoophytes in 
 Europe, and they are largely exported. 
 
 Little Sark is connected with Sark by a ridge 
 300 feet high, and at its summit but six wide. 
 This peninsula contains the Pot, below which are 
 found agates and jaspers. Here, and in neigh- 
 bouring places, we observed excavations where 
 trials had been made for silver, and on the other 
 side of Little Sark stand the ruins of buildings 
 raised for mining. Seventy-two thousand pounds 
 were expended, and a shaft sunk so deep from the 
 top of the cliff that the workmen could hear the 
 stones rolling in the sea above them ; but very 
 little metal was obtained, and it was at length dis- 
 covered, as is not uncommonly the case, that the
 
 SAA'A: 273 
 
 only real mine was in the shareholders' pockets. 
 Retracing our steps, we visited the Creux Terrible, 
 which is a finer specimen than the Pot, the Devil's 
 Frying Pan in Cornwall, or even the Devil's 
 Limekiln in Lundy. It is a square pit in the 
 rock, like a large funnel, about 300 feet deep, 
 and opening into the sea at the bottom through 
 two orifices. At high tide the sea enters, and 
 boils within it with great commotion. 
 
 The gardens of the Seigneurie are, by the kind 
 permission of the Governor, open to the public, 
 and are considered by most visitors to be the 
 chief attraction in the island. Heliotropes and 
 veronicas are very successfully cultivated here, 
 attaining considerable size ; and a remarkably 
 pretty effect was produced by three kinds of roses 
 twined together round poles thirty feet high. The 
 most attractive part of the garden is near the 
 house, where some tasteful openings have been 
 made, displaying combinations of. ivied arches, 
 flower-knots, and stately forest trees. 
 
 18
 
 274 YACHTING. 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 Cherbourg. — Louise. 
 
 The lighthouse on Cape de la Hague* is plainly 
 visible from Alderney, and Cherbourg lies about 
 ten miles distant. We left our moorings in clear 
 weather, but a dense fog set in before we reached 
 the latter port. I accordingly joined my friends, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wiltshire, and their little daughter 
 below, and did not return to the deck for nearly 
 two hours, when I called to the captain to know 
 where we were. 
 
 * Entering the roadstead, sir,' was the reply, 
 ' here's the breakwater with all the mortars sitting 
 up on it like so many dogs.' 
 
 I found that the mist had cleared away, and 
 that we were really passing the celebrated work, 
 which Napoleon likened to one of the wonders of 
 Egypt. But the credit of the undertaking was 
 not entirely due to him — it had been carried 
 on by every Government since the days of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 The next object of interest at Cherbourg is the 
 dockyard, and we accordingly made our way in 
 
 ■"' The port of La Hogue, where James IL saw the French 
 rieet destroyed, is about 30 miles farther to the east.
 
 CHERBOURG. 275 
 
 that direction on the day after our arrival — pro- 
 ceeding to it through a magnificent avenue of 
 trees. At the portal, however, we were met by 
 an officer who informed us that, being foreigners, 
 we must obtain a permit from the Prefecture ; and 
 then from one Bureau we were sent to another, 
 until we found ourselves at the British Consulate. 
 The Consul was fortunately at home, and he 
 kindly showed us over his beautiful gardens, 
 where the mildness of the climate enabled him to 
 grow the palm and date, and the rocky character 
 of the ground had afforded slopes and precipices 
 of which the landscape-gardener had taken full 
 advantage. This garden, and that of the 
 Seigneurie at Sark, and of Tresco Abbey at 
 Scilly, are more striking than any others I have 
 seen in England or France — regarding the rarity 
 and profusion of the flowers, the position and 
 character of the grounds, and the taste with which 
 they have been laid out. 
 
 At length, having taken the Consul's note to 
 the Prefecture — an establishment with the where- 
 abouts of which even the soldiers and sailors were 
 profoundly ignorant — we again presented our- 
 selves at the dock gates. This time we were 
 received with due respect, and were informed that 
 a guide would attend us to explain the works. 
 
 18—2
 
 276 YACHTING. 
 
 We mentall}- chid this functionary for delay many 
 times before he arrived, but we found we had 
 done him an injustice, for he had been employed 
 in adorning his person for our benefit, and came 
 out dusting his boots with his pocket handkerchief. 
 He was, nevertheless, but a poor specimen of 
 humanity, and his clothes hung in melancholy 
 folds down his lank figure. When his toilet was 
 completed, he pulled out of his pocket the card of 
 introduction on which our names were inscribed, 
 and began with difficulty to try to decipher them : 
 
 'Veel — Vill — Vel — sure. Is that your name, 
 sir ?' 
 
 ' No !' was the indignant reply — ' Wiltshire.' 
 
 * Welsh — Welsher,' he muttered, by no means 
 convinced, and casting a suspicious glance at us. 
 ' What do you wish to see ?' 
 
 'The docks, of course.' 
 
 ' Oh L very well. Would you like to see the 
 corn-mill ?' 
 
 ' Corn-mill ! No, the ships.' 
 
 * You see, sir,' he continued, as he led the wa)-, 
 * Fm not a sailor, I am " militaire ;"' — he was a 
 policeman — * and I do not know much about the 
 place.' 
 
 He showed us several provision stores, and was 
 evidently much irritated on being told by Mrs.
 
 CHERBOURG. 277 
 
 Wiltshire, who was in a patriotic mood, that we 
 had much better in England. At length, on little 
 Emily's laughing at the gaunt figure, I beheve, 
 of our guide as he strode before us, his patience 
 fairly gave way, and he turned sharply round. 
 
 • What are you laughing at ?' he demanded 
 fiercely. ' You are laughing at the tails of my 
 coat,' 
 
 ' No !* replied Mrs. Wiltshire, somewhat 
 alarmed, 'we were only afraid of your sword.' 
 
 ' Humph !' he grunted, ' that's because 3'ou're 
 English; the French don't know fear.' 
 
 Mr. Wiltshire and I endeavoured by praising 
 everything to atone for any offence his dignity 
 might have suffered, and by degrees we put him 
 into better humour. 
 
 'What are those?' inquired Mrs. Wiltshire, 
 indicating a party of priests, who had just crossed 
 our road. 
 
 'Those, madame? they're — danics noires.' 
 
 ' But do they belong to the naval establishment ?' 
 
 • No ; pavhleu ! Sailors don't want priests. 
 Ours would rather have a bottle of wine than a 
 priest any day, and yours would rather have a 
 glass of brandy.' 
 
 ' It is not proper to speak lightly of religion,' 
 observed Mrs. Wiltshire seriously ; ' I am no
 
 278 YACHTING. 
 
 friend of priests or priestcraft, and ever}' sensible 
 person must object, on scriptural grounds, to 
 many of the Romish doctrines, such as Transub- 
 stantiation. Penance, and ' 
 
 ' Yes, madame,' he interrupted, 'you Protestants 
 have the best of it.' 
 
 ' You see there,' she observed, turning to me 
 triumphantly, ' thc}- cannot deny the superiority 
 of our Church.' 
 
 She saw by my manner that I was not much 
 interested, for I saw the man was made of im- 
 penetrable cla}-. 
 
 ' Yes, madame,' he continued with emphasis, ' I 
 should well like to be a Protestant — they've 
 nothing to pay /' 
 
 ' I hope that is not your only reason,' she 
 returned, much annoyed. ' Religion is of supreme 
 importance, especially to soldiers and sailors, who 
 are constantly exposed to danger, and liable to be 
 called into eternity at any moment. There is a 
 life after this, you know.' 
 
 ' Some people think so,' he replied, looking 
 absently at the clock. ' Should you like to see the 
 Salle d'Armes ?' 
 
 Mrs. Wiltshire was too much shocked to vouch- 
 safe any answer. I never expected much good from 
 this sour republican, and so gave our consent, and
 
 CHERBOURG. 279 
 
 we were ushered into a large hall, ornamented 
 with trophies and devices formed of new and 
 ancient weapons. Thence we proceeded to the 
 basins, and admired the long line of old wooden 
 ships which stands along the quay, their quaint 
 figure-heads in old fashioned costumes remind- 
 ing us of the days of the Bourbons, There were 
 also some interesting memorials of the Great 
 Napoleon. 
 
 ' You see, the basins are all cut out of the solid 
 rock, monsieur,' observed our guide. ' Millions 
 have been expended on them — the town is rightly 
 called Cherbourg.' 
 
 We remained for some days in the town after 
 this visit. Our attraction was the hotel, where we 
 found the living and accommodation excellent. 
 In Mr. Murray's Guide Book we sometimes found 
 the doubtful recommendation, ' Dirty, but good 
 cuisine' — a combination which, alas ! is not un- 
 common in France. But here everything was in 
 the most exquisite order — our table-linen was as 
 white as driven snow, and our glasses sparkled like 
 Alpine crystal. 
 
 We were also especially pleased with the atten- 
 dant, to whose care we were consigned. Her 
 appearance recommended her as well as her 
 assiduity. She was dressed in the large white cap
 
 28o YACHTING. 
 
 and becoming costume of Normandy, and was a 
 remarkably fine specimen of a Frenchwoman — tall, 
 well-formed, and of such proportions as bespeak 
 activity and strength. She seemed to be made of 
 sterner stuff than Englishwomen generally are, 
 and wanted that softness which we admire in 
 them ; but her features were regular ; her com- 
 plexion, though bronzed, was clear, and her counte- 
 nance was of that heroic cast which French 
 sculptors love to reproduce. We heard that she 
 was not in good health, and though she never 
 complained, we were concerned to see her working 
 so incessantly, and carrying up such heavy 
 burdens. But what struck me as most remarkable 
 about her was that she refused to accept money. 
 Emily's light heart and hand occasioned many 
 little domestic misfortunes, and a proportionate 
 amount of additional work ; but on Mrs. Wiltshire 
 offering Louise — for such was her name — some 
 compensation, she only laughed, said she would 
 receive nothing, and that it was a pleasure to do 
 anything for ' mademoiselle.' Such conduct was 
 to me unaccountable. I had never before met 
 with any person who refused an oiTer of money, 
 except one poor woman, who had afterwards to be 
 placed in a lunatic asylum. 
 
 One morning, about a week after our arrival, I
 
 LOUISE. 281 
 
 was surprised to find, on entering the breakfast- 
 room, that the cloth was not laid for breakfast ; and 
 when Mrs. Wiltshire entered she told her husband 
 that she had been ringing for her maid, Simpkins, 
 for the last half hour without success. On hearing 
 this I determined to try the awakening power of 
 the sitting-room bell, and plied it so vigorously 
 that no one within a hundred yards of the house 
 could have had the assurance to say he had not 
 heard it. The appeal was too urgent to be 
 neglected, and produced Timmings, who came 
 running up breathless, and with a face full of 
 alarming import. 
 
 ' Oh, ma'am,' she gasped, ' I beg your pardon — 
 I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting — but it 
 has given me such a turn, I really could not come 
 before.' 
 
 Here she pressed her hand to her side, and, 
 being rather stout, looked as though she were 
 about to fall to pieces. 
 
 ' What is it, Timmings ?' cried Mrs. Wiltshire, 
 in an agony of suspense. ' Speak ! — Emily ?' 
 
 ' No, it isn't her, ma'am — Miss Emily's all 
 right ; it's Louise — Louise the maid — her as 
 attends on you here !' 
 
 'What of her?' asked her mistress, much re- 
 lieved, but interested.
 
 2S2 YACHTING. 
 
 ' Well, ma'am, I may as well begin from the 
 beginning. As I was passing the door at seven 
 o'clock this morning — it might have been ten 
 minutes past seven, for I was a little late— I 
 generally get up when I hear the clock strike six, 
 but I didn't hear it this morning. I don't think 
 much of the French clocks ' 
 
 'Never mind the clocks,' interposed Mr. Wilt- 
 shire ; ' what about Louise ?' 
 
 ' Well, sir, it was about ten minutes after seven, 
 as I was passing the sitting-room door, I saw it 
 open. So says I to myself, " What ! has master 
 left the sitting-room door open ?" and I just went 
 to look in, when who should I see there but 
 Louise, lying in an arm-chair with the broom 
 beside her. Oh ! but she did look dreadful bad, 
 sir, all like a co'pse a'most, and I felt the cold 
 shivers come over me. " Louise," says I, and 
 with that she opened her eyes. " Whatever is 
 the matter ?" She shook her head, but made no 
 answer. I was so frightened, and I thought of 
 the cholera morbuse, which is about the town, 
 and called Maud, Madame Clement and her 
 mother, and Marie and Adolphe, and they carried 
 her up to bed ; and we've been rubbing her with 
 brandy, and now a doctor's sent for.' 
 
 As Mrs. Wiltshire was somewhat uneasy at
 
 LOUISE. 285 
 
 Timmings's suggestion of cholera, we sent for 
 Madame Clement immediately after breakfast- 
 It was some time before she arrived, accompanied 
 by her husband, and they soon satisfied us that 
 the illness was not infectious. The landlady 
 afterwards, in a few words, informed Mrs. Wilt- 
 shire, to her great astonishment, of the real cause 
 of the poor girl's wretched condition. 
 
 ' But what had become of the infant ?' That 
 was now the question, and it was one at which 
 the master of the house grew livid. He begged 
 us to be silent, and to keep the matter as quiet as 
 possible, for the French police were inexorable. 
 Were any suspicion raised they would search 
 every cranny and corner, tear down the fire- 
 places, turn out the wine-cellars, uproot the house 
 to its very foundations. He saw nothing before 
 him but public exposure, and his customers 
 migrating from the hotel en masse. He be- 
 moaned himself as the most unfortunate of land- 
 lords, and the miseries of Louise appeared to him 
 to be insignificant in comparison with his own 
 impending ruin. 
 
 Every attention was paid to the sufferer, but 
 she would give no information on the all im- 
 portant subject. In vain the old grandmother 
 exhausted all her blandishments by the bed-side;
 
 284 YACHTING. 
 
 in vain the little landlord gesticulated at the door. 
 Chance fortunately brought to light what entreaty- 
 could not elicit. One of the housemaids, on 
 opening a china-closet adjoining our sitting-room, 
 discovered the little object of our search wrapped 
 up in one of the dinner-napkins. The good news 
 spread like wildfire ; every one felt relieved, 
 especially the master of the hotel. The only 
 circumstance which marred his satisfaction was 
 that the child was not found alive. This entailed 
 two difficulties. The first was soon disposed of : 
 the family doctor gave a certificate to say that 
 death ensued from natural causes immediately 
 after birth. The second was of a religious 
 character ; it was necessary that the child should 
 have been baptized to entitle it to Christian 
 burial. The Romanists enforce this rule strictly, 
 and to the letter, whereas our clergy think it 
 best to avoid asking questions and creating diffi- 
 culties. The Roman Church, however, while 
 it renders the rite obligatory, affords greater 
 facilities for its administration. Laymen are 
 allowed to perform it, and in the present case 
 a visitor in the hotel, who had accidentally be- 
 come acquainted with the circumstances, threw 
 some water over the dead infant, and certified to 
 the authorities that it had been duly baptized.
 
 LOUISE. 285 
 
 The priests arrived the next mornings and re- 
 moved the body, chanting the solemn service, 
 and preceded by white-robed torch-bearers ; 
 and this httle traveller was conducted to his 
 last resting-place with the same offices of the 
 Church as if he had lived to a ripe old age and 
 died full of j^ears and honours. There was only 
 one difference — there were no mourners ; poor 
 little Louis Fleury had no one to follow him to 
 his long home. He had but one to lament him, 
 and she could not be present. But she followed 
 him in heart, though not in person, and he could 
 not have had a more sincere mourner. 
 
 All cause for anxiety seemed now removed, 
 and Louise was tended with unremitting care. 
 But imagine what a shock our feelings received, 
 when three days afterwards the little coffin re- 
 appeared, accompanied by a file of police ! They 
 marched with clanking boots into the hotel, and 
 choked up the hall, and the entrance through 
 which all the visitors passed, with their long 
 swords and cocked hats. M. Clement could not 
 believe but that they were making themselves 
 intentionally and maliciously conspicuous. Such 
 an exhibition would have brought disgrace on 
 a private house — to an hotel it threatened 
 bankruptcy. The gendarincs, hov.ever, would
 
 286 YACHTING. 
 
 listen to no remonstrance, but two of them 
 demanded to be shown into Louise's bedroom, 
 while the remainder were left to keep watch at 
 the door. Louise was, of course, in a very feeble 
 state, and the poor thing trembled like an aspen 
 leaf on hearing the dreadful tidings. But the 
 emissaries of the law seemed to possess neither 
 compassion nor delicacy. They crowded up the 
 stairs, stalked into the middle of the room, 
 demanded whether her name was that in their 
 warrant, and then ordered her to rise instantly, and 
 prepare to accompany them. In vain she and 
 kind Madame Clement prayed that she might 
 be allowed at least to dress herself in private, 
 promising to be ready in a few minutes. They 
 refused to make any concession, and it was 
 through such humiliation as this that she was 
 rudely borne to prison. What could she expect 
 from people who had treated their own Queen 
 with similar brutality ? 
 
 I happened to be standing in the passage when 
 she was brought down, and I never saw her look 
 more handsome. Her complexion seemed as 
 white, and her features as sharply cut, as though 
 she had been marble ; and the indignities she had 
 suffered had given her a dauntless, almost a 
 defiant expression. I could not avoid addressing
 
 LOUISE. 287 
 
 a word of comfort to her as she stood between 
 those grim, hard-looking officials. 
 
 ' Louise,' I said, ' may God protect you !' 
 
 She looked round, made no reply, but burying 
 her face in her hands, burst into tears. A word 
 of kindness could touch the heart which no indig- 
 nities could conquer. 
 
 When we had somewhat recovered from the 
 shock, I sought the landlord, to inquire what had 
 been the cause of the visit of the police. He 
 said he feared that the servants of the hotel 
 had been tattling outside about the affair, and 
 that the carpenter who made the coffin, or some 
 of the female neighbours, had been over-inquisi- 
 tive, and so the unfortunate occurrence had come 
 to the knowledge of the authorities. 
 
 We all took so much interest in the fate of Louise, 
 standing in the flower of youth and strength on 
 the very brink of death, accused of a crime that 
 might lead to her execution, and that by the 
 guillotine, that Mrs. Wiltshire applied for per- 
 mission to visit her in prison. This, after some 
 formalities had been complied with, was granted, 
 and the day and hour fixed. Mr. Wiltshire sup- 
 posed that he would have been allowed to accom- 
 pany his wife, although his name was not inserted 
 in the permit ; but he found he was mistaken, as
 
 288 YACirriXG. 
 
 the police regulations were stringent on the sub- 
 ject. His wife felt, naturally, very nervous at the 
 thought of traversing the dark, narrow passages 
 alone with her grim escort, but she determined 
 not to be deterred from her charitable undertaking. 
 The French police are a severe, forbidding set of 
 men, and they have none of those pretty ways 
 which make the London ' blue ' so acceptable in 
 the public-house, and so irresistible on the area 
 step. They seem, on the contrary, to have no 
 feelings in common with the rest of mankind, and 
 Mrs. Wiltshire felt an involuntary chill pass over 
 her as she gazed at their inflexible features, and 
 thought how little consideration poor Louise 
 could expect from them in her desolate and 
 appalling position. 
 
 While thoughts such as these were passing 
 through her mind, she found herself in a small 
 chamber, or rather closet, into which a little 
 aperture scarcely admitted the light of day. On 
 one side was a double grating, so contrived b}- 
 means of close interlacing bars, and the distance 
 between the barriers, that it would have been 
 almost impossible to transmit any article through 
 it. She gave an involuntary shudder as the 
 gaoler proceeded to close and double-lock behind 
 her the door of the narrow, dismal cell, and
 
 LOUISE. 289 
 
 begged that it might not be entirely closed. But 
 the functionary merely replied that he must obey 
 his orders, and shot the massive bolts. Then, 
 passing round to the other side of the grating, he 
 unlocked a gate, which, as it groaned upon its 
 hinges, discovered a yard beyond, secured at every 
 point of access by heavy iron gratings. Within 
 this ill-omened precinct sat several squalid, repul- 
 sive-looking women in moody silence or listless 
 conversation ; and at one side Louise was plainly 
 recognisable, standing aloof from the rest, and 
 easily distinguished by the neatness of her dress 
 and the snowy whiteness of her country cap. She 
 was motionless, and looked inexpressibly sad, as 
 if overcome by the sense of her degradation. It 
 is surprising what an effect is produced, except 
 upon the hardened, by the mere consciousness of 
 being in prison. There must be something in the 
 mere atmosphere of the place, which seems to 
 convey a taint, if we may judge by the feelings of 
 the inmates. 
 
 The statuesque girl started with a look of terror 
 as the gaoler thundered out from the iron gate, 
 'Louise Fleury!' She came forward trembling, 
 and when she entered the passage and saw Mrs. 
 Wiltshire on the other side of the grating, she 
 seemed reassured, but, unable to restrain her 
 
 19
 
 290 VA CHTING. 
 
 grief, burst into a paroxysm of sobs. The lady- 
 said, in gentle terms, that the object of her 
 visit was not to aggravate her sorrow but to 
 bring consolation, to express her hope that she 
 might be proved innocent of the grave charge 
 preferred against her, and to inquire what 
 she wished to have in the way of clothes, or such 
 little gifts as were allowed to the untried prisoners. 
 Poor Louise was very anxious that her mistress 
 should take charge of her box, in which were 
 some little trinkets she valued, and also that her 
 thimbles and needles and thread should be sent to 
 her, as, though the prison authorities provided 
 materials, they did not provide the means of 
 working them. 
 
 Mrs. Wiltshire then asked her whether, since 
 her imprisonment, she had heard from the man 
 who had been the cause of her misery. 
 
 Her face flushed with indignation as she replied 
 emphatically : 
 
 * No ; he has never written or inquired since.' 
 
 ' Does he know the position in which you are 
 placed ?' 
 
 ' He knows it, but does not care so long as he 
 is not troubled.' 
 
 She spoke with so much emotion, and at the 
 same time with so much reserve upon the subject,
 
 LOUISE. 291 
 
 that Mrs. Wiltshire refrained from making further 
 inquiries as to whether any marriage had taken 
 place. On one point Louise was inflexible ; suffer 
 what she might, she would never betray the name 
 of this unworthy man. 
 
 'You have parents?' continued Mrs. Wiltshire. 
 ' They have written to you ?' 
 
 ' No,' she replied ; ' they do not know where I 
 am. I left my place and came to Cherbourg un- 
 known to my friends. What will become of 
 me ?' she exclaimed. ' If the worst does not 
 happen, they will send me to prison at Rennes 
 for five years ! I shall then be cast forth with- 
 out a home, and without a character to procure 
 one !' 
 
 Mrs. Wiltshire was greatly affected. She told 
 her that she should place her trust above, and 
 added that she had a good friend in Madame 
 Clement, the mistress of the hotel, and that she 
 herself would not forget her. 
 
 At length the visitor was informed that the 
 time allowed for the interview had expired, and 
 she bade a sad farewell (perhaps for the last time) 
 to one who, at the commencement of our short 
 sojourn in the town, had seemed, in the bloom and 
 confidence of youth, to be looking forward to a 
 happy life. 
 
 ig — 2
 
 292 YACHTING. 
 
 Our stay at Cherbourg was now drawing to a 
 close, but before leaving we added our mite to 
 the subscription which had been set on foot in 
 the hotel for poor Louise, that she should not be 
 entirely penniless if released from prison. It 
 amounted to about three hundred francs, and had 
 to be put in trust for her, and her box of clothes 
 to be inscribed with M. Clement's name to pre- 
 vent its being appropriated by the authorities. 
 We wrote a strong testimonial in her favour to be 
 presented on her trial, to corroborate the evidence 
 of the master and mistress on her behalf. 
 
 During the winter we received the welcome 
 intelligence that Louise had been acquitted, 
 and that she had been received back by M. 
 and Madame Clement — partly from charitable 
 motives, partly because they had found her such 
 an efficient servant. 
 
 These tidings were truly gratifying, and when 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wiltshire visited Cherbourg the 
 following year, the latter said she should cer- 
 tainly inquire for her, but added that she 
 should treat her distantly and not make a pet 
 of one who had certainly been guilty of great 
 duplicity, and, although acquitted of crime, had 
 laid herself open to a grave charge. Alas ! 
 we were never called upon to treat her either
 
 LOUISE. 293 
 
 with kindness or reserve. She had indeed re- 
 turned to the hotel, but she would not under- 
 take her former duties, for she shunned the 
 light of day and the face of human kind. Her 
 mistress considerately employed her in needle- 
 work in a back room, into which no one else was 
 allowed to enter, and where for several weeks she 
 worked indefatigably. But the cold and damp of 
 the prison had, in her feeble state, laid the seeds 
 of incurable disease. She gradually drooped and 
 languished, until she was unequal to any exertion ; 
 and, although Madame Clement supplied her with 
 every comfort, she requested to be removed to a 
 hospital, as she could not bear to be a burden. 
 There, after three days, she breathed her last — 
 without a relation to attend her — with no one 
 beside her but the mistress of the hotel, whose 
 heart had been touched by her misfortunes, and 
 by the patience with which she had borne them. 
 She sank back into a sweet sleep with her hopes 
 fixed on heaven, and we were told that the ex- 
 pression of her countenance was as peaceful and 
 serene as though she had already become a beati- 
 fied spirit. It was, perhaps, for the best that she 
 was removed from this censorious world. She is 
 now far beyond the reach of the slights and re- 
 proaches of man, and is gone to a more merciful
 
 294 YACHTING. 
 
 Judge than any she would have had upon earth 
 Hood beautifully teaches us how to bid farewell 
 to such a child of sorrow : 
 
 ' Cross her hands humbly, 
 As if praying dumbly, 
 Over her breast. 
 Owning her weakness, 
 Her evil behaviour, 
 And leaving in meekness 
 Her sins to her Saviour.' 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 Time was, when gazing on the starry sky, 
 Bright constellations led the sailor's eye, 
 And Northern Bear or Southern Cross by night 
 Taught him to steer his pathless course aright. 
 
 But now, where'er the mariner may roam, 
 One single influence guides him to his home ; 
 To that he looks, and its unerring hand 
 O'er watery wastes points out his native land. 
 
 And thus when life grows weary of the tide. 
 One single spirit, whispering at our side, 
 Shall bid us ' Come ' — and lead the happy way 
 To some fair haven in the isles of day. 
 
 Elliot Stock, Paternoster Rozu, London. *
 
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