Chapter I: Part 1

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.

Fourth Series

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NO. 691. SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1877. PRICE 1½_d._]

NAMES.

There might be much amusement in tracing the origin of family names. Long ago--say about six or seven hundred years since--there were no family names at all. People had Christian names and nothing more, and of course there was often considerable difficulty in distinguishing individuals. Such at present is the case in Turkey, where the old eastern practice of using but a single name continues to be followed. Surnames were not introduced into England until after the Conquest. The fashion of using two names came to us from France, but for a time was confined to families of distinction, and extended slowly over the country. One thing is said to have promoted its use. Young ladies of aspiring tastes declined to marry gentlemen who had only a Christian name, such as John or Thomas, for they would necessarily have still to be called by their own name, Mary, Elizabeth, or whatever it was. Spinsters accordingly thought it to be a grand thing to form an alliance with a person possessing the distinction of a family name, by which they should ever after be called.

Curiously enough, so difficult is it to alter old usages, that until very lately surnames were scarcely used among the humbler classes of people in some parts of Great Britain remote from centres of civilisation. In these places, a creditor would enter the name of his debtor in his books as John the son of Thomas, just as you see genealogies in the Old Testament. Only now, from improved communication with the outer world, have practices of this kind gone out of use. We can easily understand how the names ending in _son_, as Johnson, Thomson, Manson (abbreviation of Magnusson), originated; and it is equally easy to conjecture how names from professions, such as Smith, Miller, or Cooper came into existence. It is equally obvious that many family names are derived from the nature of the complexion of individuals, as Black, Brown, and White.

At first sight, there is a mystery as regards the different ways in which certain names are spelled. Smith is sometimes written Smyth; and in some instances Brown has an _e_ at the end of it. We see the name Reid spelled as Reade, Reed, and Rede. We see Long, Lang, and Laing, all variations of one name. The same thing can be said of Strong, Strang, and Strange; of Little and Liddle; of Home and Hume; of Chambers and Chalmers; and so on with a host of surnames in daily use. The mystery which hangs over various spellings is cleared up on a consideration of the indifferent scholarship which prevailed until even the middle of the eighteenth century. Names in old legal documents and in the inscriptions on the blank leaves of family Bibles, are written in all sorts of ways. A man seldom wrote his name twice in succession the same way. Each member of a family followed the spelling suggested by his own fancy, and added to or altered letters in his name with perfect indifference. Eccentricities of this kind are still far from uncommon in the signatures of imperfectly educated persons. There is, in fact, a constant growth of new names, springing from ignorance and carelessness, though also in some cases from a sense of refinement.

Perhaps there is a still more vigorous growth of names from foundlings. Driven to their wits' end to invent names for the anonymous infants thrown on their bounty, parish authorities are apt to cut the matter short by conferring names that are suggested by the localities where the poor children were picked up. A child found at a door will be called Door, and so on with Street, Place, Steps, Basket, Turnstyle, or anything else. Hundreds of droll names are said to have begun in this way. Possibly it was from such origin as this that a respectable citizen of Dublin, mentioned by Cosmo Innes in his small book on Surnames, derived the name of Halfpenny. Mr Halfpenny, it is stated, 'throve in trade, and his children prevailed on him in his latter years to change the name which they thought undignified; and this he did chiefly by dropping the last letter. He died and was buried as Mr Halpen. The fortune of the family did not recede, and the son of our citizen thought proper to renounce retail dealing, and at the same time looked about for a euphonious change of name. He made no scruple of dropping the unnecessary _h_; and that being done, it was easy to go into the Celtic rage, which Sir Walter Scott and the _Lady of the Lake_ had just raised to a great height; and he who had run the streets as little Kenny Halfpenny came out at the levées of the day as Kenneth MacAlpin, the descendant of a hundred kings.'

The assumed name of MacAlpin brings us to the whole order of Macs, now spread out in all directions. Mac is the Gaelic equivalent for son, and accordingly Mr MacAlpin would in an English dress be Mr Alpinson. There happen to be two distinct classes of Macs, those with a Highland origin, such as Mackay, Macpherson, Macgregor, Macneil, Macfarlane, Macleod, and Macdonald--all great clans in the olden time; and the Macs of Galloway, where Gaelic is now extinct, and the races are somewhat different from the Highland septs--perhaps with a little Manx and Irish blood in them. Among the Galloway Macs are found the names Maclumpha, Macletchie, and MacCandlish, which evidently do not sound with the true Highland ring. The Irish have likewise their form of expression for son. They use the single letter O, as O'Connell and O'Donell. The O, however, signifies grandson, as it continues to do in the old Lowland vernacular in Scotland, where an aged woman in humble life may be heard saying of her grandchild, 'That is my O.' Prefixes or terminations for son are common among names in every civilised country in Europe.

As is well known, the Norman Conquest gave a new character to English names. From that time many of the most notable of our surnames are to be dated, not only in England, where the Conquest made itself cruelly felt, but in Scotland, where families of Norman origin gradually effected a settlement by invitation and otherwise. Names traceable to the Norman families are very commonly derived from heritable possessions, and till this day bear a certain aristocratic air, though altered in various ways. Doubtless in the lists of those 'who came over with the Conqueror,' there are innumerable shams; but there are also descendants of veritable invaders. We might, for example, instance the late Sir Francis Burdett (father of the Baroness Burdett Coutts), who traced his origin by a clear genealogical line to Hugh de Burdett, one of the Norman soldiers who fought at Hastings in 1066. That gives a pretty considerable antiquity to an existing family without change of name. On the Scottish side of the Border, we could point to a family, Horsbrugh of that Ilk, as being not less than eight hundred years old, and always occupying the same lands and possessions. Wallace, Bruce, Dundas, Fraser, Stewart, or to use its French form Stuart, are also Scottish surnames of great antiquity. To these we might add two names now ennobled, the Scotts, Dukes of Buccleuch, and the Kers, Dukes of Roxburghe. We find these various names meandering through history for six or seven hundred years.

On the original names borne by noted Norman families in England and Scotland, time has effected conspicuous changes. The prefix _de_, which was once held in high esteem, has been generally dropped. There has likewise, in various cases, been what might be called a vulgarising of the names. De Vesci is transformed into Veitch, De l'Isle into Lyle, and De Vere into Weir. Through various changes De Montalt has become Mowat, De Montfitchet sinks into Mushet, De Moravie into Murray, and Grossetête into Grosart. We cannot speak with too much contempt of the mythic fables invented to explain the origin of the names Forbes, Guthrie, Dalyell, Douglas, Naesmyth, and Napier--grand old names, which existed ages before the imaginary incidents that have been clumsily assigned as their commencement.

Any one disposed to investigate the historical origin of British surnames, would find not a little to amuse and instruct by making a leisurely survey along the east coast from Shetland to the English Channel. Every here and there he would alight upon patches of population, whose descent from Norwegians, Danes, Jutes, Angles, and other continental settlers in early times would be unmistakingly revealed in their surnames, the colour of their eyes, their complexion, and in their spoken dialect--the very pronunciation of certain letters; for the lapse of centuries and innumerable vicissitudes have failed to obliterate the normal peculiarities of their origin. Strange, indeed, is the persistency of race. We have heard it stated as a curious and little known fact, that on the west coast of Scotland there are families descended from the wrecked crews of the Spanish Armada, who scrambled ashore now nearly three hundred years ago. Herein, as we imagine, lies a mine of ethnographic lore, which in the cause of science and history would be not unworthy of exploration. A stretch within the Scottish Border would likewise not be unproductive. On the eastern and middle marches will still be found the descendants of the Eliots and Armstrongs who are renowned in the _Border Minstrelsy_ of Scott; the Grahams in the Debatable Land; and on the west the Johnstons (with their cognisance of the winged spur), the Jardines, and the Maxwells. Are not these living memorials demonstrative of the truth of history and tradition?

The surnames common to Great Britain and Ireland received an immense accession by those religious persecutions in Flanders in the sixteenth, and in France in the seventeenth century, by which hosts of intelligent and industrious foreigners were forced to flee for their lives. The prodigious immigration from this cause, and to which has to be attributed much of our manufacturing prosperity, has seldom been seriously thought of. A painstaking account of this interesting invasion of Flemish and French artisans has lately been written by Mr Smiles,[1] which may be advantageously consulted on the subject. We do not go into the religious part of the question, further than to say that the expulsion of so many skilled labourers in the useful arts was a terrible blunder, which we can imagine has been long since repented of. Our concern being principally with the names of the refugees, we shall run over a few items, taking Mr Smiles as our authority. Speaking of the lace-manufacturing towns in the west of England, which had been enriched by the ingenuity of Flemish settlers, he says: 'Such names as Raymond, Spiller, Brock, Stocker, Groot, Rochett, and Kettel are still common; and the same trades have been continued in some of their families for generations.' Some Walloon refugees, cloth-makers, named Goupés, settled in Wiltshire three hundred years ago, and there their descendants are still, but with the name changed to Guppys. From the De Grotes, or Groots, a Netherlandish family, sprung the late George Grote, the eminent historian of Greece. The Houblons, who gave the Bank of England its first governor, the Van Sittarts, Jansens, Courtens, Van Milderts, Deckers, Hostes, and Tyssens, were all descendants of Flemish refugees. 'Among artists, architects, and engineers of Flemish descent, we find,' says our author, 'Grinling Gibbons, the wood-sculptor; Mark Gerard, the portrait-painter; Sir John Vanbrugh, the architect and play-writer; Richard Cosway, the miniature-painter; and Vermuyden and Westerdyke, the engineers employed to reclaim the drained land of the Fens. The Tradescants, the celebrated antiquarians, were of the same origin.'

Driven from the Netherlands by the intolerant policy of the Spanish authorities, who had possession of the country in 1555, the Flemish refugees with their descendants had been residing in England for several generations, when there occurred a fresh accession of immigrants on the score of religion. These were the families who, under prodigious difficulties, felt themselves obliged to flee from France in consequence of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. in 1685. These unhappy people escaping across the Channel in open boats, or anyhow, arrived on the coast of England and Ireland to the number of fifty thousand. They brought no money with them; but animated by an immense spirit of industry and independence, their presence was more valuable than untold gold. Settling in London and other quarters, there are till this day innumerable traces of their names in the general population. We might instance the names Baringer, Fourdrinier, Poupart, Fonblanque, Delaine, Payne, Paget, Lefanu, La Touche, Layard, Maturin, Roget, D'Olier, Martineau, Romilly, Saurin, Barbauld, Labouchere, and Garrick, whose real name was Garrigue--all of Huguenot origin. The names of French refugees who introduced silk-weaving into England are now to be seen in Spitalfields, where also a few of their mulberry trees still survive. The town of Portarlington, in Ireland, was entirely peopled by French exiles, and continues to bear traces of the original names. We are informed that a taste for cultivating flowers was spread through a number of the English towns by the French refugees. Silks, ribbons, lace, gloves, hats, glass, clocks, watches, telescopes (by Dollond), and paper were among the manufactures which they introduced. By the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, France appears to have lost all its hatters. Previously, England imported hats from France, but now the French had to import all their hats, at least those of a finer kind, from England.

The original French names were not always preserved by the refugees and their descendants. Becoming Anglicised, their names in several instances assumed an English form, which was not always an improvement. Mr Smiles gives us some examples: 'L'Oiseau became Bird; Le Jeune, Young; Du Bois, Wood; Le Blanc, White; Le Noir, Black; Le Maur, Brown; Le Roy, King; Lacroix, Cross; Tonnelier, Cooper; Le Maitre, Masters; Dulau, Waters; Sauvage, Savage and Wild. Some of the Lefevres changed their name to the English equivalent of Smith, as was the case with the ancestor of Sir Culling Eardley Smith, Bart., a French refugee whose original name was Lefevre. Many names were strangely altered in their conversion from French into English. Jolifemme was freely translated into Pretyman; Momerie became Mummery, a common name at Dover; and Planche became Plank, of which there are still instances at Canterbury and Southampton. At Oxford, the name of Williamise was traced back to Villebois; Taillebois became Talboys; Le Coq, Laycock; Bouchier, Butcher or Boxer; Boyer, Bower; Bois, Boys; Mesurier, Measure; Mahieu, Mayhew; Drouet, Drewitt; D'Aeth, Death; D'Orleans, Dorling; De Preux, Diprose; De Moulins, Mullins; Pelletier, Pelter; Huyghens, Huggens or Higgins; and Beaufoy, Boffy.' Some other conversions are mentioned, such as Letellier into Taylor; De Laine into Dillon; Dieudoun into Dudney; Renalls into Reynolds; Saveroy into Savery; and Levereau into Lever. While such havoc has been played in England with French names, a similar change, though on a less extensive scale, has been made on English and Scotch names in France--witness only Colbert, a minister of Louis XIV., descended from a Scotsman named Cuthbert; and Le Brun, an eminent artist, sprung from plain Mr Brown.

When William Prince of Orange arrived in England in 1688, he brought with him a number of trusty Dutchmen, who in civil and military life so distinguished themselves as to rise to eminence. Among these were William Bentinck, created Earl of Portland, whose son was raised to a dukedom; General Ginkell, who fought manfully at the Boyne, was created Earl of Athlone; and Arnold-Joost Van Keppel, was created Earl of Albemarle, whose descendant now enjoys the title. With George I. there began a number of German names which are now lost in the general population. Far greater additions, however, have been made by the progress of industrial settlement within the last fifty years.

A good feature in the more intelligent classes in England is, that entertaining no grudge at the immigration of foreigners who desire to pursue an honest calling, they receive them hospitably, and willingly hail them as naturalised subjects; for them and their descendants are indeed opened up according to merit the higher offices in the state. As a token of this liberality of dealing, we have only to glance over street directories and see the vast number of names of persons of German, Dutch, French, Swiss, Greek, and Italian origin. We could specify many estimable persons of these nationalities. But the topic would branch out sufficiently to fill a volume; and the more it is investigated the clearer is the view to be obtained of the manifold changes that have taken place in the tastes and conditions of society. Thanking Mr Smiles in the meantime for the ingenious contribution to the history of surnames, to which we have called attention, the subject is little more than touched on, and we should like to see it treated if possible in a thoroughly comprehensive spirit.

W. C.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _The Huguenots: their Settlements, Churches, and Industries in England and Ireland._ By Samuel Smiles. New and Revised Edition. Murray, London, 1876.

THE LAST OF THE HADDONS.

CHAPTER XV.--ROBERT WENTWORTH'S NEWS.

'Do you really think that I ought not to tell Arthur yet, Mary?' whispered Lilian to me later in the day, when she was about to accompany her lover into the garden.

'I should certainly advise you not to do so until we know whether or not the discovery is of any importance,' I replied in the same tone.

'I would so much prefer telling him,' she murmured anxiously.

'I can understand that, dear Lilian.'

'And still you think it best not to tell him?'

'I am only afraid that he might not hold the same views as you do yourself upon the point; and it would only lead to painful discussion, which it is as well to avoid; at anyrate, until you know for certain whether the document is genuine or not.'

Her respect for my opinion proved to be stronger than her respect for his; perhaps because I tried to appeal to her reason as well as to her feelings, and she did _not_ tell him.

The next day passed, and the next, slowly enough to me, in the miserable state of uncertainty I was in, no sign being made by Robert Wentworth. But when another day went by, and then another, the truth began to dawn upon me. He had gone to Scotland to make inquiries on the spot, which proved that what he had learned from Mrs Pratt rendered it necessary so to do; and that everything now depended upon the validity of Mr Farrar's marriage with Marian's mother. Then I saw that it was not right to allow Lilian to go on without some sort of preparation for the blow, which might fall at any moment. It was now my duty to prepare her in some degree for what she had not the slightest suspicion of. If Robert Wentworth's inquiries had brought out the fact that Marian's mother died before Lilian's was married to Mr Farrar, there would not have been the slightest necessity for the journey to Scotland; and his setting forth without delay shewed me that he had grave grounds for believing the document to be a legal one. It was evident that everything now depended upon the legality of that marriage.

'Well, Mary, what is it? news--good news?' asked Lilian, as she entered my room. I had sent a message begging her to come to me after dinner, knowing we should be secure from intrusion there.

'Dear Lilian, what would you consider to be good news?'

'The legality of the marriage being proved, of course,' she answered promptly.

'I have no news, dear Lilian; but--I want to talk the matter over with you a little. I am beginning to get very anxious about not hearing from Mr Wentworth. He must have seen the necessity for going to Scotland; and if the marriage is proved to be a _bonâ fide_ one, I fear'----

'What do you fear, Mary?'

'Dear Lilian, I foresee something which it is extremely painful to think of--something which has not, I think, occurred to you.'

'What is that?' she asked wonderingly.

'I do not like to even suggest it, because all may yet be well. Still it is my duty to warn you that there may be a consequence which you have not anticipated with reference to the'---- Some one was tapping at the door, which I had locked, and on opening it, I saw Becky.

'Mr Wentworth has just come, and he wishes to see you by yourself, please, Miss.'

'Where is he, Becky?'

'In the drawing-room, Miss; and I'll see that nobody shall disturb you,' mysteriously whispered Becky, who had, I suppose, received a hint from him that he desired to see me privately.

'Say that I will come immediately;' adding to Lilian, as I hurriedly made my way towards the door again: 'Will you wait for me here a few minutes, Lilian?'

But I had said enough to arouse her fears, though she was still in ignorance as to the cause, and she gravely replied: 'No, Mary; I will go with you. I know now that you are trying to spare me in some way---- O Mary! why do you look at me like that?--I _will_ go with you and hear the worst!'

Well I knew that he would be as careful in telling her as I could be. And if there was indeed bad news, I should be very glad of his assistance in breaking it to her. We went down together; and one glance at his face, as we entered the room, warned me to expect the worst. His grave words, 'I wished to see you alone for a few moments, Miss Haddon,' confirmed my fears.

'I wished to come--I would come, Mr Wentworth,' said Lilian, slipping her hand into mine; 'and you must please to let me stay, if what you have to say concerns me. You have come to tell us what you have ascertained about the paper I found; have you not?'

I put my arm round her, with a look towards him. She looked from one to the other of us in some surprise.

'Yes,' he hesitatingly replied; 'I have been to Scotland.'

'Then why do you look at me like that? Why are you both so strange? Mary, _you_ ought to know there is nothing I should be more rejoiced to hear than that the marriage was a legal one.'

'It is not that, Lilian.--I have guessed aright; you have been proving the genuineness of the marriage during your absence; have you not, Mr Wentworth?' I asked.

'I grieve to say that there was no difficulty in proving it, Miss Haddon.'

'Grieve! grieve!--when it proves Papa to have acted like an honourable gentleman, instead of---- O Mary, you too!' turning from him to me, with a wounded look.

He saw now that the one thing had not yet occurred to her, and turned silently away. He could not strike the blow.

I drew her to a couch by my side, and said with faltering lips: 'I fear that it has not occurred to you that, though it might be better for Marian that her mother's marriage should be proved, it would be worse for you.'

'Worse for me? Is it possible that you can for one moment be thinking about the money? Can you suppose that my father's good name is not more to me than such'----

'Dear Lilian, I was not thinking about the money,' I slowly replied, with a miserable sickening of the heart as I suddenly realised that the property also was lost. She would be penniless as well as nameless. I glanced towards him again. No; there was no hope!

'Then how can it be worse for me? How can it possibly be worse for me that Papa did right instead of wrong. Please tell me at once what you mean.'

Alas! the more she dwelt upon the honour, the more she was shewing us how terribly she would feel the dishonour! My eyes appealed once more to him for help. But he gravely said: 'Miss Haddon knows what there is to tell, and it will come best from her.'

So it was left to me. I, who loved her most, had to strike the blow. I only put one last question to him: 'Is what I most feared realised, Mr Wentworth?'

He bowed his head in assent, and walked towards the window as I went on:

'Lilian, dear sister--you promised to let me call you that--there _is_ something to be suffered; and though I know you will bear it more bravely than many would, it will be very hard to bear. In your anxiety to do justice to Marian, you did not perceive that--it might bring suffering upon yourself.'

'Doing justice need not bring suffering, Mary.'

'It sometimes may, Lilian. The reward of right doing is not always reaped at the moment.'

'You are not talking like yourself, Mary. What do you and I care about getting rewards! Please tell me at once what I have to bear. I know now that it is something bad; and I know that you are both very sorry for me.'

'The bad news is the date of Marian's mother's death, Lilian. She died when you were about two years old.'

She saw; rose to her feet, and stood for a moment with her hands extended, as though to ward off a blow, and then fell back into my arms.

'Lock the door, please, and help me. She must not be seen by others in her weakness,' I said, placing her amongst the pillows. 'She will soon be herself again.' Then I bade him throw open the windows, whilst I gently fanned her.

In a few moments she opened her eyes, and struggled to her feet.

'Was it a dream--was it?' she ejaculated, looking eagerly into my face. 'Ah, no!' She was powerless again for a few moments. But she was gaining strength, and presently insisted upon hearing the whole truth from Robert Wentworth's own lips.

He saw that it would be more merciful to comply now; and did so unreservedly. He had been too much interested to leave a stone unturned, although every step he took more plainly revealed what it was so painful to discover. He had taken Counsel's advice upon it, and his own judgment was confirmed: Mr Farrar's marriage with Marian's mother was a legal one, and Lilian's mother had been no wife in the eye of the law.

I may as well state here that Mr Farrar received the paper with his letters to Lucy Reed from Mrs Pratt, after her sister's death, just as they had been found. I thought that it was not at all probable Marian's mother had ever realised her position, or she would have taken steps to secure it. Most probably, Mr Farrar persuaded her that the document was in some way informal. There is just the possibility that he did not believe in it himself; and had gone through the ceremony to satisfy Lucy Reed, whilst she was with him during a tour in Scotland.

Why he did not at once destroy the evidence against himself, when it came into his possession, since he never could have meant to acknowledge the marriage, is difficult to understand in a man of Mr Farrar's calibre--as puzzling as a murderer keeping the evidence of his crime about him. We only know that such things are not uncommon. It might have been that Mr Farrar kept the paper to remind him of Marian's claims upon him, though he never meant them to interfere with Lilian's. The latter's mother was a gentlewoman, young and beautiful. He had gratified both love and ambition in marrying her; and after her death, his love for her child engrossed his whole being. After a few moments' reflection, I said:

'They will be looking after us presently, Lilian. Would you like Mr Wentworth to explain to Mr Trafford?'

'Yes,' she whispered; her trembling hands clinging closer about me. Then, loyal and true to him, she added: 'But remember that I do him the justice to say that the loss of the---- Only my shame will trouble him. He has so often wished I had not a penny.'

I could only gather her to my heart, with a look towards him.

His was the hardest task after all! He and I knew that now. He left us alone; and my Lilian and I tried to find strength for what was to come, as only such strength can be found. But Lilian would never be the same again. Her love to her father had been wounded unto death; and I saw that it was her mother--her cruelly wronged mother--who had all her sympathy now. I shall never forget the agony expressed in the whispered words, 'Mother! mother!'

We were not left very long alone. Robert Wentworth could barely have had time to tell the story, when Arthur Trafford came striding in by the open window.

'Good heavens, Lilian! what is this?' he ejaculated impetuously; adding, before she could reply: 'Wentworth tells me that--that you take this absurd affair seriously!'

'Seriously, Arthur?' she repeated, turning her eyes wonderingly upon him.

'I mean: he says you mean to act as though that ridiculous paper were genuine; but surely that is too absurd!'

'Is it not genuine, then?' she eagerly asked, her face for a moment brightening with hope, as she turned towards me: 'Is there any doubt about it, Mary?'

'I am sorry to say that I think there is not, Lilian,' I replied; feeling that it was less cruel to kill her hope at once, than indulge it. 'Mr Wentworth said he had taken Counsel's advice, you know.'

'Oh, I suppose it may be genuine enough for the kind of thing!' he said, with an effort to speak lightly. 'But of course, none in their senses would for a moment dream of acting upon it. At the very best, it would be only a very doubtful marriage, arranged, I daresay, to satisfy a not too scrupulous girl's vanity. The thing is done every day; and I am sure, on reflection, you will not be so Quixotic as to'----

'If the paper is legal, I must do what is right--Arthur,' she murmured in a low broken tone.

'Do you think it would be right to blacken your mother's good name and give up the---- All your father wished you to have? The truth is, you have not reflected upon what your acknowledgment of that paper will involve, Lilian. You cannot have given any thought to the misery which would follow. Any _true_ friend of yours would have recommended you to at once put that paper into the fire.--Is that it?' he added, catching sight of the paper which Robert Wentworth had put down on the table before me whilst he was speaking, and which I had neglected to take up. 'Yes, by Jove, and that settles the matter!' catching it up and tearing it into shreds.--'I am your best friend, Lilian.'

'No, no, no! O Arthur, the shame of it!'

'Do not be distressed, dear Lilian; you forget that is only my copy of the original,' I said; 'Mr Trafford is spared.'

He tried to laugh. 'Of course I was only in jest, Lilian. But, seriously now, you should remember that Marian Reed has been brought up to consider herself what she is. But you---- It cannot be possible that you would commit an act which would brand your own mother with shame!' He was quick to see what weapon struck deepest, and did not hesitate to avail himself of it.

She shrank under his words, with a low cry. Seeing that he was so blind as to imagine that she would yield through suffering, I sternly said: 'Cannot you see that you are wounding her to no purpose, Mr Trafford? Lilian will do what she believes to be right, come what may.'

'Not if there is no interference--not if she is allowed to use her own judgment, Miss Haddon;' turning fiercely upon me. 'Unfortunately, she has chosen bad advisers!'

'O Arthur!'

'Come out with me, Lilian! I am sure I shall be able to shew you the folly of this,' he pleaded.

'No, no; I cannot change!--Do not leave me, Mary,' she entreated, holding fast to me.

'Dear sister,' I whispered, 'I think it will be better for me to leave you for a few moments. It will be sooner over, and you will find me in the garden presently.' And gently unclasping her hands, I left her alone with Arthur Trafford.

UNDERGROUND JERUSALEM.

As is pretty well known, Jerusalem, the City of David, rendered glorious by the Temple of Solomon, has undergone extraordinary vicissitudes; has been sacked and burned several times, the last of its dire misfortunes being its destruction by Titus in the year 70 of our era, when there was a thorough dispersion of the Jewish race. This ancient city, however, which is invested with so many sacred memories, always revived somehow after being laid waste, but in a style very different from the original. As it now stands, Jerusalem is a comparatively modern town, built out of ruins, and only by difficult and patient explorations can portions of its ancient remains be identified. Of the old memorials the most remarkable are those underground; that is to say, in vaults and obscure places only to be reached by excavation.

The notification of this fact brings us to a brief but we hope not uninteresting account of what in very recent times has been done, and is now doing by the Palestine Exploration Society, by means of extensive excavations, of which a carefully written description is given in Captain Warren's _Underground Jerusalem_.

In February 1867, Captain (then Lieutenant) Warren started for Palestine with three corporals of Engineers, and on the 17th arrived at Jerusalem after a prosperous and uneventful journey. The city does not seem to have struck him as being either picturesque or beautiful. 'It is a city of facts,' he says, 'and but little imagination is required to describe it.' Yet when viewed from the Mount of Olives, with the hills of Judah stretching to the south, and the rich valley of the Jordan glowing like a many-hued gem beneath the vivid sunlight, and the mountains of Moab cleaving with their purple beauty the soft clear blue of the Syrian sky, he does not deny to it a certain charm; but his heart was in his work, and his work lay in the old walls, particularly those which marked the almost obliterated inclosure of the Temple.

This edifice in the latter days of its glory, after it had been partially rebuilt by Herod the Great, was a splendid building. To enable us to realise its gigantic proportions, Captain Warren tells us that the southern face of the wall is at present nearly the length of the Crystal Palace, and the height of the transept. The area within its walls was more extensive than Lincoln's Inn Fields or Grosvenor Square, and the south wall offered a larger frontage and far greater height than Chelsea Hospital. It was built of hard white stone, and was enriched with a variety of coloured marbles, with graceful columns, with splendid gates overlaid with gold and silver, with gilded roofs, and with all the gorgeous detail of costly arabesque and carving. So rich was it in its dazzling magnificence, that it aroused the envy and cupidity of all the nations around, and finally fell with the city it adorned before the conquering arms of Titus. The Roman general tried in vain to save it; fired in the wild fury of the onslaught, it was consumed to ashes; and its very foundations so obliterated by the superincumbent rubbish, that for ages its precise site has been unknown. In fact the only sites in Jerusalem which were known with absolute certainty were the Mount of Olives and Mount Moriah. Now, in consequence of the discoveries made during the course of his excavations, Captain Warren has been able to identify the walls of the Temple and to make a plan of its courts. He has also found the spot where the little Hill of Zion formerly stood, the Valley of the Kidron, and the true position of the Vale of Hinnom; but to accomplish all this he has had many difficulties to contend with, quite apart from the necessary labour attending the excavations. The civil and military pachas did all in their power to hinder him, and would not allow him to begin to dig at all until a firman from the Sultan arrived authorising his operations. In the interval of enforced leisure, before the Vizieral permission arrived, he paid some necessary visits in Jerusalem, and then made arrangements for a tour in the lonely wilderness country which stretches to the east of the city.

A camp-life, we are told, is at once the most healthy and the most enjoyable in the East. In summer, the domed houses of Jerusalem are intolerable from heat and unpleasant odours; but out on the wide open upland, with a good horse, galloping along the dewy plains in the fresh exhilarating morning breeze; or stretched at night on a carpet of wild-flowers, lazily watching the pitching of the tent; or following with idle glance the myriads of bright-hued birds that dart like rainbow-tinted jewels from branch to branch of the fragrant wild myrtle--there is no land like Palestine for enjoyment. Look where you will, the view is interesting; that village nestling on the hill-side is Nain--the Fair; that picturesque rounded hill clothed to the summit with wood is Tabor; yonder dazzling snow-crowned mountain is Hermon; and far off in the hollow of the plain, silent and still, you may see gleaming in the sunshine the sullen waves of that mysterious Sea that ages ago ingulfed the guilty Cities of the Plain. Around you, too near sometimes to be pleasant, are the black tents of the Bedouin, true sons of the desert, whose wild life has a zest unknown to the courts of kings: greedy of bakshish, arrant thieves, and utterly reckless of human life, the Bedouins can be very unpleasant neighbours; and Captain Warren conceived, probably with truth, that the Bedouin encamped near him had all the will to be troublesome, but fortunately lacked the power.

Having examined the aqueducts which anciently brought water to the Pools of Solomon, Captain Warren visited and explored a curious cave at Khureitûn, or rather a series of four caves opening into each other, which appeared to him to be the veritable Cave of Adullam, where David and his band of malcontents found refuge.

Permission from the Grand Vizier having arrived, and the necessary interview with Izzet Pacha being over, the excavations were at once begun, and then the magnitude of the proposed operations was for the first time fully realised by Captain Warren. He had heard vaguely that modern Jerusalem was built upon sixty feet of rubbish; but he found that the layers of accumulated debris extended to one hundred and thirty, and sometimes two hundred feet in depth. For workmen, he had the peasantry around, who were unaccustomed to the use of the spade and barrow. They worked only with the mattock, and used rush-baskets for carrying out the earth. Another obstacle to progress was the want of wood; not a plank was to be obtained except at a fabulous price. In spite of all these difficulties, however, he discovered in the first four months a portion of the ancient city wall; he identified the real Kidron Valley, which runs into the present one, and is choked up with rubbish to the depth of one hundred and fifty feet; and ascertained that the present brook Kidron runs one hundred feet to the east of, and forty feet above the true bottom of the stream. Thus it would seem that the desolate inclosures of modern Jerusalem, its paltry and yet crowded bazaars, and its gloomy narrow streets, entomb with the beauty and glory and hallowed memories of the past, even those landmarks of nature which we are accustomed to consider most changeless and imperishable. Beneath its wastes lie forgotten valleys and hills, streams which have ceased to flow, and fountains which have long been empty and sealed.

Having obtained the necessary apparatus from England, Captain Warren sunk shafts into the mounds of ruin near Jericho; but found only a few jars of ancient pottery, which crumbled into dust whenever they were exposed to the air.

It was now April, the loveliest month in the Syrian year, and the valley of the Jordan, which a few more weeks would transform into a parched brown desert, was in all the flush and glory of its green luxuriance. The wide plain glowed in the tender flush of the dawn like one vast emerald, while countless flowers unfolded their dewy petals, rich with rainbow tints of beauty, as if Iris were about to weave a gorgeous mantle for the departing summer; while hurrying onward to its dark mysterious Sea rushed the rapid river, its waters gleaming like crystal through the flowering branches of oleander which fringed its banks.

When out on this expedition, Captain Warren made the acquaintance of the Samaritans at Nâblus, and saw them hold their Passover in front of their ruined temple on Mount Gerizim. It was a striking scene, such as the gloomy brush of a Rembrandt might have loved to paint. As night darkened down over the landscape, it lent to the rugged wildness of the surrounding scenery a dim indistinctness, which gave vastness to its savage outlines; while in the foreground, tall ghoul-like figures in long white robes flitted about from one reeking oven-mouth to another, watching the sacred Passover lambs as they were in process of being roasted or rather charred with fire; while the moonlight straggling through the mist mingled with the smoky glare of the torches, and lit up from time to time the dark keen wily faces of the worshippers, crafty and yet fierce, expressive of the mingled courage and guile with which, although few in number, despised and demoralised, they have yet held and still hold their own.

The portions of the plain of Jordan at present under cultivation are very limited, and the crops raised consist of wheat, cucumbers, and tobacco.

During this tour Captain Warren had for guide or guard a certain Sheik Salah, who he says 'was really a good fellow; and if he had not talked so complacently of marrying an English wife, I should have felt quite friendly to him. This was his hobby. He had a great desire to go to England for this purpose; evidently supposing that he had only to appear there to take his choice of the first in the land.'

After three months of wandering through the country, Captain Warren returned to Jerusalem, to find fresh difficulties staring him in the face. The Turks did not keep faith with him; and he was obliged to prosecute the dragoman of the English Consulate, who had imposed upon him.

On the 10th of September his right-hand man, Sergeant Brattles, was taken into custody; and concluding, like the Apostle Paul, that he was a citizen of no mean nation, he refused to walk out of prison, when asked to do so, until the charges against him were investigated. This ended in his speedy release; and the works went on, resulting in the discovery of the gymnasium gardens built by Antiochus Epiphanes, the pier of the great arch destroyed by Titus, and a very ancient rock aqueduct, which was found to be cut in two by the wall of Herod's Temple. An old arch was also discovered, which Captain Warren conceives to be a portion of a bridge connecting Solomon's palace with the eastern side of the valley. Extending their researches by means of the rock-cut aqueduct, they were so fortunate as to find also an old drain, through which they crawled, and examined the whole wall as far as that well-known portion of it commonly designated 'The Jews' Wailing-place.' This aqueduct was so large that a man mounted on horseback might have ridden through it, and proved of great service to the exploring party until they found it cut through by the foundations of a house. During this month also they discovered the great south wall of the Temple. It has two entrances, known as the Double and Triple Gate; and besides these a single gate with a pointed arch was discovered leading to the vaults called Solomon's Stables. These vaults are of comparatively recent date (of the time of Justinian); but it struck Captain Warren that this single gate being at a place where the vaults were widest, was probably over some ancient entrance. He sunk a shaft beside it, and after much labour succeeded in clearing out an ancient passage lined with beautifully cut stones, with a groove at the bottom cut for liquid to flow along. This he concluded was the channel for the blood of the beasts slain in sacrifice, and he wished to push forward straight to the altar and ascertain its position, but was forced to desist by the opposition of the Turks. To this was added money difficulties, from which he was soon happily relieved, and enabled with a light heart to begin excavations within the area of the Temple. On the south-west side there is a double tunnel called the Double Passage, which is one of the most sacred of the Moslem praying-places. With great difficulty and only by a ruse, this hallowed spot was at last examined; but nothing of importance was obtained from it. The same may be said of a remarkable expedition into a sewer, which was certainly plucky, even heroic, but barren of any great result.

Aqueducts appear to be the order of the day in underground Jerusalem. Near a curious double rock-cut pool, which Captain Warren conceives to be the Pool of Bethesda, a rock-cut passage was noticed by Major Wilson filled with moist sewage. It was four feet wide, and had five or six feet of sewage in it when Captain Warren and Sergeant Brattles examined it. They accomplished their perilous voyage by means of three doors, taking up the hindmost as they advanced; and being everywhere obliged to exercise the greatest caution, as a single false step might have precipitated them into the Stygian stream below, which would have proved to them a veritable Styx; for once in, nothing could have rescued them from its slimy abyss. Fortunately, no accident occurred; but they discovered nothing beyond the fact that it was one of the aqueducts which had brought water to the Temple from the north.

About this time the Jews began to take a great interest in the excavations. There are on an average about ten thousand of them in Jerusalem, gathered out of every nation under heaven; but the bulk of them are either Ashkenazim (German Jews) or Sephardim (Jews from Morocco). The Sephardim are a dark robust race, with the traditional hooked nose of the Jews; the Ashkenazim are more fragile; and their women are often very beautiful--tall and stately as Sir Walter Scott's Rebecca, with lustrous almond-shaped eyes, black glossy hair, a delicate complexion, and a bloom so vivid that it puts to shame the blush of the damask rose.

It is the custom for all the Jews in Jerusalem to assemble every Friday at their Place of Wailing, under the west wall of the Temple court, there to lament aloud the calamities which have befallen their nation. It is a striking sight to see them at this mournful place of meeting. Differing in nationality, in dress, in language, in intelligence, in rank, they are united only by the curse, which has preserved them through centuries of persecution and exile, a separate and distinct people among the teeming myriads of the earth. There they lie before the curious gazer, old men and youth, matron and maid, prone on their faces on the pavement, or rocking themselves back and forward in their anguish; while the air resounds with their bitter wailing and lamentation, on which sometimes breaks harshly the loud laugh of the careless Frank, or the cold sneer of the haughty Moslem.

In January 1869 Captain Warren received a letter of instructions, directing him to abandon those portions of the work which did not promise immediate results. He had discovered in the Temple inclosure the north wall of Herod's Temple, but found it impossible to follow it up. He also came upon the old wall of Ophel, a portion of the first wall of the city. On stones in this wall were found characters which the most competent judges declared to be Phœnician; and also incised marks, such as are found on the old walls of Damascus and Baalbec.

About this time Lady Burdett Coutts offered to give twenty-five thousand pounds to supply Jerusalem with water, of which there is a great scarcity during the summer season; but the proposal ended in nothing, because the Turkish authorities shrewdly concluded that they would have to pay in the long-run for keeping in good order the aqueducts she restored. The want of water is one of the principal reasons why Palestine is at the present day so sterile and unhealthy. And this want of water is (as in other districts where woods are demolished) caused in a great degree by the destruction of the forests, and especially of the groves and vineyards which grew on the terraces along the hill-sides. The system of terracing, according to Captain Warren, has the effect of retaining the rain, which falls plentifully at certain seasons of the year, in its natural reservoirs about the roots of the trees and in the hollows of the rocks, instead of allowing it to tumble in wild torrents down the bare hill-sides, and rush headlong to the sea, wasting instead of dispensing all the rich blessings which water alone can give in a dry and thirsty land.

What is wanted, Captain Warren says, to make Palestine again a rich and fruitful country, 'is a good government, a large population, an energetic people, and a sufficient capital.'

Wheat grows luxuriantly in Palestine; and the grapes on the Sandstone formation are as highly flavoured as those of Muscadel, producing in the hill country of Lebanon an excellent wine. Very fine raisins are also dried in the east of Palestine; and the whole country abounds with sheep, goats, camels, horses, and mules. The mutton of Palestine is very poor, owing to under-feeding and to the accumulation of the whole fat of the animal in its enormous tail.

Patches of tobacco are grown; and figs, oranges, lemons, and apricots flourish when they are carefully tended.

Jerusalem is not entirely without the industrial arts: there are seven soap factories; and a considerable traffic in grain, which is altogether in the hands of the Moslems. There are also five potteries, and many people work as stone-cutters and indigo-dyers.

Captain Warren's last work at Jerusalem was excavating an old wall near the large reservoir called Birket Israil. Here he came upon a slit about eighteen inches wide and four inches high, and was naturally very much excited at something so unusual. At last he was upon the eve of some great discovery. This small aperture might perhaps give access to some secret chamber, in which the Ark and utensils hidden from the plundering Romans had lain undisturbed for ages. Here, favoured by fortune, he might perchance find the famous golden vine, which once with its shining clusters twined in gorgeous splendour around the entrance to the Temple. Vain dream! That rich fruitage was gathered hundreds of years ago by the hand of some bold legionary. After infinite trouble, the slit was enlarged so as to give access to the apartment, or rather passage below; and then Captain Warren found one of the most frequent facts--'in his city of facts'--an aqueduct!

Much as he has accomplished as the agent of the Palestine Exploration Society, a great deal yet remains to be done before the Holy City of the past can be disentombed from her sepulchre of centuries. That the work interrupted for the present will be continued at some future time, no one can doubt. Forlorn wasted Jerusalem, although no longer the prize for which rival races contend, is as truly hallowed still by solemn recollections to every thoughtful heart, as she was in the days when mailed Crusader and turbaned Turk fought beneath her walls for the mastery of the Holy Sepulchre. No spot on earth thrills the stranger with such mingled emotion as fills the breast of him who, standing on the Mount of Olives, marks its ancient gnarled trees, and remembers that there, on the sward beneath their hoary boughs, has echoed and re-echoed often in the mysterious past the footfall of the Saviour of the World.

THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN.

IN TWO CHAPTERS.--CHAPTER II.

When Earle arrived at the De Lacys' house next day at eleven o'clock by appointment, he was shewn into the library, where he found Miss Stirling alone, busy at needlework. She looked so particularly feminine both in occupation and expression, that Earle fancied the soft gray homespun and crimson ribbon more becoming even than her evening attire. Both were slightly embarrassed as she rose and gave him her hand.