Chapter II: Part 2

A week after this event we received a letter of thanks from the owners of the schooner, who also offered us a handsome acknowledgment for our timely assistance, which we declined with thanks.

The captain, who is now master of a much larger vessel, and whose wife it was we had saved, insists on repeating his expressions of gratitude whenever we meet; but his tone becomes very grave when we laugh and attempt to make light of the danger we encountered.

OUR HEDGEHOGS.

Who among us has not been amused and delighted by Frank Buckland’s most original accounts of the various animals, wild and tame, with which, at different periods of his career, he came in contact? Reading in his _Life_ the account of the hedgehog imported into the Deanery in the fond hope that it would devour the black beetles, has reminded us of some of our own experiences in connection with those animals. We were troubled with black beetles in our kitchen regions, and were informed that hedgehogs would eat them. It was long before the _Life of Frank Buckland_ appeared; we had not the benefit of his experience, or we might have known that, as he says, ‘they don’t act. A hedgehog cannot possibly hold more than a pint of beetles at a time, and in my kitchen there are gallons of them.’

When the first hedgehog arrived and was turned loose in the kitchen, we expected great things of it; but, to our surprise, the creature would not take the trouble to catch the beetles. They might swarm on every side, ‘beetles to right of him, beetles to left of him;’ they might run right before his eyes—he only regarded them with placid indifference. He may have performed prodigies of beetle-catching in the middle of the night when no one saw him; but so far as our observation went, the only way in which he could be induced to eat any was when they were caught for him—taken up in the fire-shovel and presented to him on that as on a dish. Certainly there was no perceptible diminution in the number of black beetles, and our regret was therefore the less when before long the hedgehog mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps the beetles ate him; perhaps he managed to slip out unobserved into the yard. At all events, no trace of him was ever discovered; not even his skeleton in the flue, as was the case with Frank Buckland’s hedgehog.

After this, I don’t suppose we expected much in the way of beetle-eating from his successor, known amongst us by the name of Hogatha; but she was less shy and more sociable than many hedgehogs, and amused us by her droll ways. She would of course roll herself into a prickly ball when touched, but would uncurl as I sat with her on my lap, and look about her with her bright little eyes. I think she would soon have become tame, and I should have made a pet of her, but for one unfortunate circumstance. If even the whale has his unmentionable parasite, it will not perhaps appear surprising when I mention that fleas in great number inhabited my little friend’s bristly coat. When she uncurled as she lay on my lap, they could be seen running in and out over her odd little head and face. Perhaps this is a favourite locality, being less bristly, and presumably more comfortable for the fleas than the more prickly portions of the body. But it was too much. Not even for the sake of cultivating the acquaintance of the charming Hogatha, could I face the prospect of restless nights and irritated skin, so our friendship waned.

It must have been this hedgehog which frightened me one night. I was not learned in natural history, and didn’t know that hedgehogs could run fast and mount stairs. It was late at night, and I was in bed, when I was startled by hearing strange noises in the passage outside my door. Sometimes they appeared distant, sometimes near; sometimes there came a kind of scraping at the door, which had a most uncanny sound. Is there such a thing as being physically superstitious, the mind having little or nothing to do with it? If so, I was physically superstitious; and the tendency which was in my blood, handed down perhaps from old Breton ancestors, was developed (parents and nurses, please take heed to my words!) by ghost stories told me in my childhood. At the time of which I am writing, though quite grown up, I well remember there was one story in particular I hardly dared recall, which, if it came back to my memory in the night, would cause the old feeling of terror to overwhelm me like a flood; wherefore it was with an effort that I got up and lit the gas; then, ‘taking my courage in both hands,’ I opened the door—and behold! there was Hogatha tearing up and down the long passage like an express train! I couldn’t consent to have her _and_ her fleas, and I couldn’t have her without, so I conveyed her down-stairs, and shut her in the kitchen.

Then there was the sweet little baby hedgehog, given me by a lad who found a nest in his garden. We didn’t mean to be cruel, either of us, but no doubt were so, for the poor little thing was too young to be taken from its mother. I could not induce it to eat or drink, and at last I gave it to the cat, which had kittens at the time, to see if she would adopt it. She received it graciously when I put it into her basket, as though it had been her own kitten. But it was all no use; the poor little thing pined and died.

We were by this time pretty well convinced that beetle-eating on the part of hedgehogs was chiefly theoretical, with just as much relation to the realities of life as many other theories, and no more. We desired, however, to keep our minds open to new impressions; and when told that they were useful in a garden because they would eat the snails and slugs, we believed our informant, and hailed with gratitude the arrival of two fresh hedgehogs. They were named Paul and Virginia, and were shut up in the summer-house, with the idea that when they had become well accustomed to that as their place of abode, they might not run away when allowed to go loose in the garden. But there must be some mistake about their fondness for snails and slugs. I took one to Paul (or Virginia, I am not sure which) one day; and, after some hesitation, he slowly ate it; but presently threw it out of his mouth. It didn’t seem encouraging when you remember that they were expected to help to clear the garden of such pests. However, Paul and Virginia were allowed, when supposed to be sufficiently at home, to take their walks abroad, and then they also disappeared, nor have I ever seen either of the queer creatures since.

HOW PAT DELANEY PAID HIS RENT.

I was born in County Blank, Ireland, educated in Dublin, and chose for profession—if profession it may be called—that of a tea-planter; but times were bad, health failed me, and after ten years spent in Assam, I returned to England with the intention of remaining, should a suitable appointment be procurable. No one knows, however, till he tries how difficult it is to find suitable employment on returning after a lapse of years to one’s old haunts; the true reason of it being that there is too large a proportion of the _genus homo_ collected together in this corner of the globe. My parents had died during my absence, and their property had passed into the hands of an elder brother with whom I was not on good terms, so I did not revisit the old place. Hearing, however, that my uncle, Sir Toby O’Bride, who owned considerable estates in another county, was having some trouble with his tenants, I thought I would cross over and see him.

My respected relative was in the act of shutting up house and beating a hasty retreat from the country. No rents had been forthcoming for some time, so he had lately changed his agent. The new one succeeded in bringing a few of the tenants to their senses and the rents to Sir Toby’s pocket, but two nights previous to my arrival the unfortunate man was shot when returning home through the park, after dining with Sir Toby. The police had some _suspects_ in charge; but as it proved, they had no hand in the affair, and the guilt was never brought home to the real perpetrator.

‘I don’t know,’ said my uncle, ‘what is to be done, but at present I intend going away for a time. They will shoot at me next, if I remain. This shocking affair has quite unnerved me.’ My uncle did indeed look shaken and ill.

‘I have a plan,’ said I, ‘if I may suggest it? Let me take the agent’s place, and see if I can improve matters. The people all know me more or less, and if any of them try to make holes in me, they will find me well prepared to retaliate. I mean this seriously, uncle. I am an idle man at present, and will be more than pleased if you let me have my way.’

He pooh-poohed my proposition at first, declaring it was simply suicidal to attempt such a thing; but he finally consented, and I was installed in the agent’s cosy cottage at a salary of four hundred pounds per annum. The first step was to purchase ostentatiously a pair of six-chambered revolvers, and erecting a target in the garden, I peppered away at it. Whenever any one came to my office, I took occasion to show what an excellent shot I was. The office window stood high from the ground, and was furnished with iron bars and a grating like that of a prison cell. When the tenantry came to pay their rent, they found me seated at the table with one of my faithful beauties on each side of me, and it was well known that I never left the house without them.

Whether it was owing to my knowledge of the character of the people with whom I had to deal, or whether it was their knowledge that I liked them sincerely, but knew them too well to be ‘done’ by them or to fear their threats, I cannot say; whichever way it was, no attempt was made on my life, and a larger proportion of the rents due passed through my hands in the course of the year than had through those of the agents for some time previously. Of course, there were some tenants who could not or would not pay their rent. Stories of bad harvests, cattle dying, pigs getting measles, and starving families at home, came eloquently from the glib tongues of the delinquents. Sometimes true, more or less, generally less, for there was very little bad land on the estate. Foremost amongst the last-named section was one named Delaney. He held a good farm, which had been tenanted for generations back by Delaneys, who had been counted good tenants in their day; but this Pat came under the influence of agitators, who perverted his ideas of honesty.

Pat Delaney was among the first to refuse to pay his rent, and the aggravating part of it was that I felt sure he had the money. He was the best judge of horses in the country-side, and attended all the fairs, doing a good deal of cattle-dealing in a quiet way, so that in spite of bad seasons, he was counted a well-to-do man among his fellows. But on rent-day not a shilling was forthcoming. The old story—failure of the potato crop, bad harvest, wife sick, a lot of mouths to fill, and ‘Wouldn’t I put in a word for him with the masther? Shure, the kind ould masther wouldn’t be hard on a poor man. He would pay up next rent-day for sartain.’

‘No, Pat,’ said I. ‘This is the second time you have brought me that story. You are far behindhand with your rent; and if you don’t pay up now, out you must go. The land is good and the rent low. If you can’t make it pay, we must find another tenant who will. It goes against my heart to turn you out, for Delaneys have been on the place for three generations now; and I am sure you _can_ pay, if you like. The Delaneys were never paupers before.’

Glancing sharply at him, I saw a flicker of indecision pass over his countenance, and his hand fidgeted with the edge of his jacket; but in a moment the former expression of doggedness came over his face like a cloud; he straightened himself, and said insolently: ‘Shure an’ wouldn’t I pay if I could? It isn’t dishonest ye’re thinkin’ I am?’

An idea struck me. Changing my tone, I remarked indifferently: ‘O no; the Delaneys were always honest. But if the money is not forthcoming, out you must go, and there’s an end of the matter.’

Gathering up the books, I returned them to the safe, locked it, and taking my hat, I turned to my companion and began confidentially: ‘I want to ask your opinion about something, Pat. They tell me you are a good judge of a nag; I want you to tell me what you think of one I have in the stable just now.’

At the word ‘nag,’ Pat was all attention.

‘She’s a beauty, and, I imagine, should fetch a good deal. She belongs to a friend of mine, who is hard up, and asked me if I could sell her for him, which will be easily done; but I want your opinion of her. There are two or three offers for her already. She was bought, I know, for one hundred and twenty pounds; but that is a little time ago; and my friend would take sixty pounds for her now, or even forty pounds, down.’

Pat’s eyes scintillated, and I saw his hand tremble with eagerness. By this time we had reached the stable where Black Bess, my beautiful hunter, stood. She had arrived a week before, a gift from my uncle, Sir Toby, and she looked her hundred and twenty guineas every inch, the beauty!

‘Cheap at forty pounds, eh, Pat? Look at her points, man. I wish I could buy her myself.’

‘She’s a purty crayture, sor,’ ejaculated Pat as he went over her points with keen appreciation. Looking at her teeth, patting the glossy, arched neck, and finally passing his hand down each leg, he raised his head, and said in a sheepish sort of way: ‘She’s worth her forty pounds, sor.’

‘Yes, I know that. Now, I thought you might know of some one wanting a horse. Perhaps one of your friends might like to deal; but I must have cash down.’

‘I know ov one man who moight take him, sor.’

‘Do you? Well, I’d be glad if you’d send him to me to-morrow; and if the mare is still here, he may have her; but he must take his chance, mind you. I have several offers, and “first come first served” is the rule for this business. Sir Thomas Clarke has an eye on her, and would probably give sixty pounds if I hung on a bit; but my friend wants the money at once. Emerson of Bogside was here this morning, and liked the looks of her; said he might look back in the afternoon and close the bargain; so your friend must take his chance.’

‘Shure, sor, and ye moight jest keep her till me frind sees her to-morrow. He’s sartain shure to take her, and cash down on the spot.’ Pat was most persuasive, and I saw by the gleam in his eye that he was safe on my hook. He knew as well as I did that he had only to take her to the first fair and he would get seventy or eighty pounds for her, if not more.

‘No, no. A bargain is a bargain. I told Emerson that it would be a case of first come first served. If Black Bess is here to-morrow, your friend can have her, and welcome; but I cannot keep her for any one.’

A heavy footstep tramped up the garden path, and we heard a loud voice asking for me.

‘Why, that must be Emerson back already!—Good-day, Pat; I don’t think I need ask you to trouble your friend, after all.’

‘Stop, stop, sor; I’ll buy the mare meself, and here’s the money.’ Ripping open the lining of his jacket, he thrust a roll of dirty notes into my hand.

Slowly I counted them, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight five-pound notes. That makes forty. Thanks, Pat. Just half your rent! Now, you go home and bring me the other half. I know you have it all, and you cannot deny it.’

When I wrote to Sir Toby, I had the extreme satisfaction of telling him that Delaney had paid up in full; and Black Bess carries me none the worse for having been an unconscious actor in the little drama which proved so successful.

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS.

We have much pleasure in recording the establishment of the ‘County Scientific Society for Middlesex.’ There are many such Societies, most of them in a very flourishing condition, dotted about the kingdom, where, for a small subscription, the members can meet at lectures, concerts, and various entertainments. In addition to this, many of these institutions have attached to them educational and art classes, which students can attend for a small fee. It is certainly time that the metropolitan county should be similarly provided for, although for some years past many local institutions of the kind have sprung up round about the great city. Among the vice-presidents of the new Society we note such honoured names as Lubbock, Huxley, Flower, Abel, and Geikie. These alone should insure that success which we hope the enterprise will achieve. Application for membership and other particulars may be obtained from Mr Sydney T. Klein, Clarence Lodge, Willesden, N.W.

The newspapers constantly remind us that there are many persons in the kingdom who object to vaccination, and, as a matter of course, there are not wanting agitators who are constantly calling aloud for the repeal of the law which makes the operation compulsory. Three years ago an outcry of the same kind arose at Zurich in Switzerland, with the effect that the cantonal law of compulsory vaccination was repealed. By reference to the official returns set forth in a paper by Professor Dunant, we are able to judge of the effect of the popular vote. In the canton named, the deaths from smallpox were in the year 1881, seven; in the two following years there were no deaths from that disease; in 1884, they rose to eleven; in 1885, they were seventy-three; and in the first three months of this present year, the deaths from smallpox were no fewer than eighty-five. These terrible figures need no comment, save the remark, that they do not take into account the sightless eyes and dreadful disfigurements of those who were attacked but did not die.

More conclusive evidence as to the efficacy of Jenner’s discovery may be gathered from Dr Jassen’s book, recently published at Brussels. Let us quote one instance given. Last year, in twenty-one German towns having an aggregate population of four millions, where vaccination was compulsory, the deaths from smallpox numbered twenty-seven; while in fifteen French towns owning the same aggregate number of inhabitants, but where the law was not in force, there were no fewer than eight hundred and sixty-six deaths from smallpox in the same period.

According to a Report published by Lieutenant von Nimptsch of a journey made by him with a traveller attached to the Congo Free State, a navigable river has been discovered by them which is likely to be of great importance to the future trade of the Congo. The river Congo, as will be seen by the map, flows in a north-westerly direction, and afterwards takes a southward course to its mouth in the Atlantic Ocean. Within the large tract of country comprised in this bend of the river, has been found the new waterway. It is described by the travellers as flowing through wide plains well adapted for cultivation, with pasturage, and forests of palms, and gutta-percha trees. Plenty of ivory was obtainable, in exchange for empty boxes and tins, from the inhabitants of the many villages which lined the banks of the river. There are many affluents to this waterway, one of which was navigable for two hundred and fifty miles. Altogether, we have presented to us in the Report a network of navigable rivers extending over a length of more than three thousand miles.

An interesting note in the _Times_ tells of a place in Russia, in the region of the Transbaïkal, where there exists a multitude of mineral springs. These have been held in high repute by the natives for many years, and it has long been the custom to bring patients to the springs for curative treatment. Not only human beings, but cattle, sheep, and horses suffering from cutaneous affections have, it is alleged, benefited by such treatment. The temperature of the springs varies from thirty-five to over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; and some are ferruginous, some alkaline, and others sulphurous in composition. At present, the alleged virtues of these waters are only known locally, and there is little accommodation for strangers. But it is believed that, in the future, patients will be attracted to the place from great distances.

At Sonnblick, one of the heights of the Tyrolese Alps, the summit of which is ten thousand feet above the sea-level, an observatory is in course of construction, which will represent the highest establishment of the kind in Europe. The summit of this mountain is more easily accessible than some of the neighbouring peaks; and there is already a wire-rope way which affords communication with some mines half-way up the mountain. It was the owner of these mines who was the first to point out the desirability of establishing an observatory here. The building will consist of a blockhouse and a massive stone turret forty feet high, which will form the observatory proper. The house is being built of timber in preference to stone, as experience teaches that the former material is more effectual in keeping out the intense cold prevalent at such an altitude. The observer will be in telephonic communication with the miner’s house two thousand feet below him; and from the latter place a record of his observations will be telegraphed to the nearest city, and thence all the world over.

Another portion of the old wall of London has recently been laid bare by some excavations now in progress near Ludgate Hill, at the Broadway, Blackfriars. This portion of the ancient defence of the capital is clearly a continuation of the fragment removed a few years ago, and is built mainly of limestone and rough mortar intermingled with tiles, bricks, and, strange to say, lumps of soft white chalk.

We have lately had the opportunity of examining a little piece of apparatus which represents the most recent advance in photographic contrivances. In outward appearance it is a book, somewhat less in size than the ordinary two-shilling railway novel. Upon opening it, it is seen to have flexible folds like the web of a duck’s foot, and when open, it remains so fixed by invisible springs. It is in reality a wedge-shaped camera furnished with a lens, which is sunk into the middle of the back of the imitation book. It is also furnished with a hidden shutter, which closes and uncloses the lens aperture at the will of the owner.

The recent inclement and unseasonable weather in the south of England has been characterised by two very unusual occurrences. First, at Deal in Kent, a small whirlwind lifted some boats from the beach, displaced a heavy crane on the railway, and did other damage. A few days afterwards, a similar phenomenon occurred at Sparham, Norfolk, which presented some extraordinary features. Its course could be traced for half a mile; and its path of destruction was well marked by a patch which, commencing with a width of two yards only, finished at the end of the half mile with a width of one hundred yards. During the two minutes which the storm lasted, it uprooted trees, unroofed houses, pulverised some hencoops, and wrought much destruction. The weather was perfectly calm except over the space covered by the whirlwind.

The total eclipse of the sun which will take place on the 29th of August is to be observed by an expedition sent out by the Royal Society and by funds from the Treasury. The party will at first proceed to Barbadoes, and will be conveyed thence to Grenada by a war-vessel. The island will be covered with stations for observing the eclipse, and all modern instruments will be used in the operations. The eclipse will not be visible at Greenwich.

There has been established for many years a school of practical engineering at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, and this school has already educated many who have excelled in their profession. As an example of the practical method of instruction pursued, we note that recently a steamer of thirteen hundred tons was worked from London to Dundee and back by a division of the students who are turning their attention to marine engineering. They were divided into gangs of four, and each gang had to work for ten hours in the engine-room under the strictest discipline. While in the north, they had an opportunity of making a professional inspection of the new Tay Bridge.

Experiments have recently been made at Berlin with a new description of military shell which is charged with rolls of gun-cotton. The projectile is said to be so destructive that no defensive works however solid can withstand it. The German government are so satisfied with the experiments that they have ordered a large number of the shells to be manufactured forthwith.

According to the _Revue Scientifique_, the discovery or suggestion of the Germ theory of disease cannot be placed to the credit of modern physicists, but is due to a Dr Goiffon, who died at Lyons more than one hundred and fifty years ago. He published a work on the Origin of the Plague in 1721, from which the following is quoted: ‘Minute insects or worms can alone explain these diseases. It is true they are not visible, but it does not therefore follow that they are non-existent. It is only that our microscopes are not at present powerful enough to show them. We can easily imagine the existence of creatures which bear the same proportion to mites that mites bear to elephants. No other hypothesis can explain the facts; neither the malign influence of the stars, nor terrestrial exhalations, nor miasmata, nor atoms, whether biting or burning, acid or bitter, could regain their vitality once they had lost it. If, on the other hand, we admit the existence of minute living creatures, we understand how infection can be conveyed in a latent condition from one place, to break out afresh in another.’

Among the multifarious objects on view at that palace of wonders, the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, are naturally many products of the animal and vegetable kingdoms which are comparatively strange to British experience. Among these may be named certain drugs, gums and resins, oils, dyes, different kinds of timber fibres, leathers, &c. Now, it is evident that many of these things may be useful to our manufacturers if only their properties can be made known. With this view, arrangements have been made for the systematic examination of these foreign products, to see whether they can be applied to present manufactures, or whether they are suitable for new purposes. Visitors to the Exhibition can attend these examinations, which, if necessary, will be followed by conferences.

A thoughtful man, in strolling through the vast network of galleries at the Colonial Exhibition, cannot help feeling that there is some excuse for the national boast that ‘Britannia rules the waves,’ for all the treasures of the earth seem to be gathered together here. The next thought that must occur to every one is the regret that the Exhibition is only a temporary one, and that the riches which have been gathered with such care and trouble from such a wide area must soon be again dispersed. There are indications that this regret, felt as it is by the executive as well as by the casual visitor, may lead to a practical result. For years it has been urged by a few that London ought to possess a Colonial Museum. We have now an unusual opportunity for forming the nucleus of such an establishment, and that opportunity should not be lost.

It seems difficult to believe that in these hard-working and matter-of-fact times, persons should be found who revert to the gross superstitions common to the people in far-off centuries. A so-called astrologer has been for a year at least making a good living by casting nativities in the neighbourhood of Brunswick Square, London; but his operations have been cut short by a fine in the police court.

The controversy which has been going on for some months between Mr J. C. Robinson and Sir James D. Linton as to the alleged fading of water-colour paintings through exposure to light and other influences is now to be brought to public arbitration. Sir James Linton, the President of the Royal Institute of Painters, has arranged to open an exhibition of the works of the most celebrated artists of the last fifty years, so that all may judge whether they have deteriorated. He is a champion for the permanence of this delightful phase of art; while Mr Robinson thinks differently.

The manufacture of whitelead, while representing one of our most important industries, has always had the bad character of being most destructive to the health and lives of the workmen employed in it. The substitution of other materials in the making of white paint has been constantly tried, but all give the palm to whitelead because of its ‘covering’ power. A new process has just been devised by Messrs Lewis and Bartlett for producing whitelead of the finest quality direct from the ore. The process is too long to describe here, but we may briefly state its advantages over the old method. It combines two manufactures, for whitelead and piglead are produced simultaneously. No deleterious fumes escape into the atmosphere, for the smelting furnace employed has no chimney. The operations are conducted with a greatly reduced expenditure of time and labour; while, best of all, the industry is not in any way hurtful to the workers. The process is an American one, and is introduced into this country by Messrs John Hall & Sons of Bristol.

It would seem from the letter of a correspondent to the _Standard_ that frogs and mice are deadly enemies. This gentleman observed a battle-royal going on between these creatures in a shed. The mice pursued the frogs all over the place, for some little time without result, for the frogs managed to elude them. But gradually the mice gained an advantage, capturing and recapturing the frogs, and biting them until they were incapable of further resistance. The mice then finished the business by devouring a portion of the dead frogs.

The last new agricultural implement is a hay-loader, which has been recently patented by Mr Spilman of Dakota. This machine collects the scattered hay from the field, raises it to a suitable height, and finally discharges it upon the hayrack of the wagon. Lovers of the beauties of the country will regret that the pleasant sight afforded by a number of bronzed haymakers loading a wagon, a scene which has so often tempted the artist’s pencil, should be threatened by the introduction of this mechanical thing. But time is money, and there is now little room for sentiment.

From the Report of a Cattle Show recently held at Buenos Ayres we learn that the South Americans are by no means behind Europeans in their use of machinery and implements for agricultural use. Also, that the live-stock there has much benefited by the importation of short-horns from Britain, and from Charolais in France, so far as the cattle are concerned, and that the sheep have equally benefited by acquaintance with our southdowns and with the French merinos. Some few years ago, a loud outcry arose among our agriculturists that buyers from the other side of the Atlantic were purchasing all our best stock at prices far beyond what the British farmer could afford to pay. There is now the hope that we shall be recouped by the importation of mutton and beef of first-rate quality. The freezing process has now been brought to such perfection that, with meat from the English stock, it should afford us the opportunity of getting the best flesh food far cheaper than we can attempt to raise it for ourselves.

Surely Mr Flinders Petrie is the most successful and energetic digger that the archæological world has ever seen. His past discoveries have already resulted in much increased knowledge of dead nations; but now he has lighted upon a most curious find in the north-eastern delta of the Nile: this is a royal palace, which is identified with the greatest certainty with that building which the Bible calls ‘Pharaoh’s house in Tahpanhes.’ The building carries us back in imagination to the Egypt of two thousand five hundred years ago. Next to its scriptural connection, interest centres in the description of the domestic offices of the building; and as we read of the kitchen with its dresser, the butler’s pantry full of empty wine vessels and their stoppers, the sanctum of the scullery-maid with its sink, we feel that the place has been tenanted by ordinary human beings. Mr Petrie’s account of the sink is worth quoting: ‘It is formed of a large jar with the bottom knocked out, and filled with broken potsherds placed on edge. The water ran through this, and thence into more broken pots below, placed one in another, all bottomless, going down to the clean sand some four or five feet below.’

Mr Francis Greene publishes in an American journal the results of some careful observations which he has made on street traffic. According to him, asphalt is a far better covering for roads than either granite or wood. He puts the matter in this way: a horse will travel five hundred and eighty-three miles on asphalt before meeting with an accident, four hundred and thirteen on granite, and two hundred and seventy-two miles on wood. This agrees with experience in London with regard to the first two materials, but not with regard to wood, which experts say is the safest material of all. Londoners have certainly the best means of judging of this, for there is very little wood-paving in America. At the same time, it is quite certain that altogether accidents are far more frequent in London. This may be accounted for by the dampness of the air, which gives rise to the peculiar greasiness of the streets, so fatal to horses; and also by the increased traffic, which leads to the accumulation of manure, another element in the slippery state of the roads.

The snail harvest has recently begun in France. The ‘poor man’s oyster’ is so appreciated by our neighbours that Paris alone consumes some forty-nine tons daily, the best kind coming from Grenoble or Burgundy. The finest specimens are carefully reared in an _escargotière_, or snail-park, such as the poor Capuchin monks planned in bygone days at Colmar and Weinbach, when they had no money to buy food, and so cultivated snails. But the majority are collected by the vine-dressers in the evening from the stone heaps where the snails have assembled to enjoy the dew. The creatures are then starved in a dark cellar for two months, and when they have closed up the aperture of their shell, are ready for cooking. According to the true Burgundy method, they are boiled in five or six waters, extracted from the shell, dressed with fresh butter and garlic, then replaced in the shell, covered with parsley and bread crumbs, and finally simmered in white wine.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE PETROLEUM INDUSTRY.

Mr Charles Marvin, one of the first to direct attention to the Russian petroleum fields at Baku, in speaking lately of the transference of petroleum in bulk, said that America was at present the principal petroleum power. By the development of the petroleum fields at Baku, Russia had recently sprung into the position of the second petroleum power; and Mr Marvin thought that England should come to the front and occupy the third position as soon as possible. By the annexation of King Theebaw’s dominions, we had come into possession of the Burmese petroleum fields, and he thought steps ought to be taken at once by the Indian government to survey these fields and to throw them open to British capital and enterprise. Within the last few years, since the extension of the railway, considerable petroleum deposits had been discovered in Beluchistan, but he regretted that the Indian government had decided to make them a Crown monopoly. Still more recently, petroleum in abundance had been discovered in Egypt. Since he wrote in 1882 of the Caspian petroleum fields, eighty steamers had been placed on that inland sea to carry oil in tanks from Baku to the mouth of the Volga; and on the Volga there were upwards of a hundred vessels running. At present, nearly all the petroleum arriving in Europe from America was brought in barrels; several tank steamers were, however, being constructed on the Tyne for the purpose of carrying petroleum in bulk.

Mr Phillips, in lecturing at the Royal Aquarium on this subject, said that the total shipments of refined oil from America in 1885 amounted to 6,985,637 barrels, of which the United Kingdom received 1,269,723; London taking 666,964 barrels. If the total shipments were placed in barrels end to end, like a string of beads, they would reach from London to New York. It is estimated that the world’s consumption of illuminating oil amounts to 1,800,000 gallons every day. At the present price of oil as sold retail, and taking an ordinary circular-wick burner of forty candle power, it costs about three-sixteenths of a penny per hour, which was fifty per cent. cheaper than gas. In this connection, it may be mentioned that the Balloon Society of Great Britain is offering a prize for a cheap safety-lamp suitable for universal use. The annual production of mineral oil shale has continued to increase in Scotland, until in the present year it stands at the unprecedented figure of about two million tons.

THE CRYSTALLISATION OF FRUIT.

From a paper by Consul Mason, of Marseilles, we learn a good deal about the business of preserving fruits by the crystallising process peculiar to South-eastern France, and practised on a large scale at Apt in the department of Vaucluse, at Clermont in Auvergne, as well as at Marseilles, Grasse, Avignon, and other places. It is curious to find these preserved fruits exported not only to England and the United States, but also to other countries, such as Algiers, the East and West Indies, and even South America, where nature has made the dwellers so far independent of preserved fruit. The fruits preserved by the crystallised process are chiefly pears, cherries, apricots, pine-apples, plums, figs, citrons, oranges, melons, and a dwarf orange called ‘chinois.’ Peaches are found to be too costly to be treated to any extent in this fashion.

For the purposes of crystallisation, the fruit must be fresh, clear of all decay and blemish, and of the proper degree of ripeness. The chief thing to be done in this process is to extract the juice of the fruit and replace it in the pulp with liquid sugar, which, upon hardening, not only preserves the fruit from fermentation and decay, but retains it in its original form and consistency.

The fruit is first carefully assorted in respect to size and uniform degree of ripeness. Pears, pine-apples, and quinces are pared; citrons are cut into quarters and soaked a month in seawater; and the ‘pips’ of apricots, cherries, and peaches are carefully removed. This work, which requires a certain degree of skill, is chiefly done by women. When thus prepared, the fruit is immersed in boiling water, which quickly penetrates the pulp, dissolving and diluting the juice, which is thereby nearly eliminated; then the fruit is taken from the water and drained, leaving only the solid portion of the pulp intact. The period of immersion must be regulated by the size and ripeness of the fruit. If immersed too long, the pulp is either over-cooked, or is left too dry and woody. If taken out too soon, the juices left in the pulp prevent perfect absorption of the sugar afterwards, and by eventually causing fermentation, destroy the value of the product. A skilful workman can tell by the colour and appearance of the pulp when it is properly ‘blanched.’ For the different grades of fruits, sugar-sirups of different degrees of density are required: the softer the fruit, the stronger the sirup required for its preservation. The sirup having been prepared by dissolving the sugar in pure water, the fruit is immersed in it and left at rest for a certain period in large earthenware pans, glazed inside. The sirup penetrates the pulp, and gradually withdraws and replaces the remaining fruity juice, which, as it exudes and mingles with the transparent liquid, produces a certain filmy or clouded appearance, which marks the commencement of fermentation. When this has reached a certain stage, the vessel containing the sirup and fruit is placed over the fire and heated to two hundred and twelve degrees, which corrects the fermentation. If the sirup is of proper density, the process of impregnating the fruit with sugar will be complete in about six weeks, during which period it is sometimes necessary to perform the heating process three times. The fruit now goes through one of two finishing processes according as it is to be ‘glazed’ or ‘crystallised.’ Some manufacturers are said to quicken the crystallisation of fruit by the use of a powerful antiseptic called salicylic acid; but although time, labour, and sugar are thereby saved, Mr Mason believes it is at the expense of quality in the finished product.

THE ANCIENT BOAT AT BRIGG.

A notice will be found in No. 126 of the _Journal_ referring to the discovery, at Brigg in Lincolnshire, during the excavations for a new gasholder, of a curious and ancient boat cut out of a solid piece of oak, and measuring forty-eight feet in length, fifty-two inches in width, and thirty-three inches in depth. The vessel is in a fine state of preservation, and it is to be hoped that proper means will be provided by the authorities for preserving this interesting relic. The last news that we have of it, however, is that it has ‘got into Chancery.’ A curious dispute seems to have arisen as to the ownership of this relic; and probably, when the case comes to be argued before the Court, some interesting legal points will be raised by the gentlemen of the ‘long robe’ as to the main question at issue. Whatever may be the result, one thing is certain, that so rare a prehistoric relic as this should be preserved to the nation as public property, on the spot, or in the town near to where it was found, as an object of peculiar local interest. It would be a mistake to remove it to London, as has been suggested; but to exhibit it for money is neither fair nor proper, and the public will probably watch the proceedings before the High Court of Chancery with interest. Boats found buried in the earth and dating from remote antiquity are very rare in this country, although several have been discovered of late years in Norway and Denmark, they having been the tomb or grave of the original commander, one of the brave and lawless vikings who roamed the seas and ravaged the neighbouring coasts of Europe in search of conquest and plunder, and when at last his restless life had closed, made his beloved ship at once his monument and sepulchre.

RELICS OF ANCIENT CARTHAGE—MOSAICS.

Not long ago, some highly artistic relics of ancient Carthage were disposed of at an auction in London. Two of the finest of these are mosaics in splendid preservation, each about three feet square. The one represents a woman robed and wearing a crown of flowers, with a naked youth sitting beside her; and the other a youth carrying on his shoulders an eagle. These have been called ‘Peace’ and ‘War;’ but there seems to be no authority for this. Both works are evidently early Carthaginian, and must have belonged to a period when Carthage held a high position as a nursery of art, especially in the beautiful art of mosaic-work, of which ancient Greece has left no trace, whilst the mosaics of Rome are of a much later date. It will be remembered that Carthage was celebrated for her beautiful coloured marbles, and for the wonderful skill of her artists and workmen, which were known throughout the civilised world, for Carthage was a large city one hundred and forty years before the foundations of Rome were laid. It is possible, therefore, that the peculiar art of working in mosaic may have been originated in Carthage, and may have found its way to Rome, where it might have been practised by Roman, or even Carthaginian artists. But, as a rule, the Roman work is very inferior to the Carthaginian. These specimens were, with many others, collected by Count d’Hérisson from recent excavations made in a garden at Danar-el-Sciat, near Tunis, and situated in the midst of the ruins of ancient Carthage. Of the authenticity of these relics there can be, therefore, no possible doubt, as they were brought direct from the site of the city itself. The two referred to, together with several other interesting specimens, were purchased by Mr Edwin Long, R.A.

Whilst on the subject of mosaics, we may mention that a valuable discovery has just been made at Chiusi in Italy. Whilst some workmen were digging out a watercourse at the foot of a hill near Monte Venere, they came upon a mosaic pavement about nine feet by six feet in size. The centre represents a double hunting scene: in the top row are three stags pursued by a hunter with a spear; below is a boar followed by two hunters, carrying each an axe and lance. The whole work is in perfect preservation, well and carefully executed with much fire and spirit, and is interesting as being the first piece of mosaic pavement that has been discovered in Chiusi or its neighbourhood.

SWEETHEART, FAREWELL.

Beneath the whispering trees we lingered late,
Hand clasped in hand, my dearest love and I,
And he spake words I never can forget,
Of tender trust and love, until I die;
And with his eyes what lips would fail to tell
He spoke, what time he said: ‘Sweetheart, farewell.’

With sweet caress he clasped me to his breast,
And looked upon me as with angel’s eyes,
And kissed my brow, and kissed my lips, and kissed
The tears away that now began to rise;
And ever the same tale of love would tell,
What time he sadly spoke: ‘Sweetheart, farewell.’

And so he went away, and I am weary
Of nature’s smiles—my heart is full of strife—
The long, long days without him are so dreary,
And all the bright has faded out of life.
‘Come back, my love, the old sweet tale to tell,
But nevermore to say: “Sweetheart, farewell.”’

WILLIAM COWAN.

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