were dark mostly, and reminded me of the gipsies I used to see when I
was a boy at home in England. One of the girls, dressed in outlandish
clothes, embroidered in scarlet and gold, came up and offered me some
wine—even held it to my lips—and the scent of it made me mad to
taste. The girl’s arm was close round my neck, and her wicked eyes, dry
and bright as a toad’s, were looking into mine with a mocking smile,
as she sang a soft, strange song, like laughing and crying all in one.
But I shut my teeth hard, and turning away my head, closed my eyes,
determined to resist her with all the strength of my will so long as I
was conscious. Even in that dreamy, bewildered state, I felt afraid of
entirely losing my senses, and something seemed to tell me I was lost
if I yielded for an instant. My tempter laughed then, a loud hideous
laugh, and flung down the silver cup she had offered me. The wine was
spilt, and I fancied it turned to liquid flame as it touched the floor.
‘Still I had no power to speak or move from my place, but I watched
Vermudyn more eagerly than ever. The supper-table was pushed on one
side; and the room was now filled with dancers, dancing fiercely and
madly to a wild tune, like the song of the gipsy when she leant over
me with the poisoned wine. The tune rose louder and higher, and the
dancers moved faster to keep time with the unearthly music—unearthly
and wild, but so beautiful that I could have listened for ever, I
thought. At times it sounded like the wind sighing through the aspens
at night; then it rose to a roar like waves breaking on the beach in a
storm. Yet, with all the changing sound, the roar of a storm, and the
wailing of the wind—tears and laughter and pain—the music still kept
time and tune, and the mad dance went on without a pause.
‘Foremost amongst them all was Vermudyn, and the woman in white with
the glittering eyes and hair. He was holding her fast in his arms as
they flew round; her head lay on his shoulder, and his face was bent
down over hers. But I could see, as I watched him, that he had grown
almost as white as the girl he held; and now her great eyes blazed with
such awful light, I shuddered to look at them; while, as she danced and
clasped Vermudyn, I fancied a tinge of colour came into her white lips,
and her cheeks were a shade less deathly.
‘Still they danced, and still she grew brighter and warmer, but not
like a living woman yet. And Vermudyn, like a mere straw drifting round
and round in a whirlpool, became weaker and fainter every minute, and
his face now was something ghastly to see; but his eyes were still
fixed on the girl, and he could see nothing and feel nothing beside.
Her shining hair had got loosened in the dance, and seemed to be flying
round them like thin golden flames as they moved.
‘It was she, now, who held Vermudyn up and forced him still to dance.
His arms were round her yet; but her strength alone sustained the
fainting man. She flew round as easily as ever; her feet scarcely
touching the ground. The noise grew furious and deafening—music and
laughter, shouts and screams that made my blood run cold, with snatches
of old songs between, were all mingled together in one hideous mighty
roar.
‘The faces of the men, or the demons who took their shape, got more
fiendish as they danced; when suddenly the dancers swept out of the
room in a wild crowd, just as they had entered it, and in their midst
Vermudyn, lying dead, or senseless, on the floor. I tried to move—to
reach him somehow at that desperate pass; but I couldn’t stir a finger.
I struggled to shout aloud—to call his name. I might have been dead,
for all the help I could give him. I had no power to speak or move.
‘Directly that demoniacal crew left the room, the lights seemed to fade
and the fire grow dim. Thick darkness fell over everything, and I could
not see a ray of light from where I now lay like a helpless log.
‘I remembered nothing more until I opened my eyes in broad daylight,
stiff, and shivering with cold. I was lying at the entrance of a little
cave among the rocks, wrapped in my blanket, and close to the embers of
a dying fire. My horse, I saw, was picketed not far from me.
‘I was still in the Devil’s Panniken, sure enough. I saw the road by
which we had come last night; but the place was strange to me; these
were not the rocks I had seen before, which surrounded the place where
we had spent the night.
‘_We?_ I was quite alone now, and broad awake! The house and all else
had vanished. As the recollections of the past night came crowding
back, I sprang up and looked around in wonder. The house—the very
room—in which I’d been was so distinctly before my mind’s eye, that
I stood staring in amazement to find myself alone. No vestige of the
house I’ve described to you, and no Vermudyn either! I told myself that
I was clean mad. I searched for him in a sort of frantic hurry, and
shouted his name, but heard only the echoes answer me.
‘I tried to get farther into the cave at the mouth of which I’d been
lying; but I soon found the way closed by a big chunk of rock. There
was no other outlet to the cave, and there was nothing to explain the
mystery. There was no sign of Vermudyn or his horse; _that_, no doubt,
had strayed during the night. But where was _he_, and where, above all,
had we two spent the night? I was fairly stunned. I felt for my knife,
my revolver. These, with my belt, were safe enough. I had lost nothing.
I was simply cold, hungry, and quite alone—save for my nag; and how
glad I was of that companion, I can’t tell you! He would be the means
of getting me away from that awful place faster than my legs could
carry me.
‘I found a hunch of bread and some meat in my wallet; but I was too
excited and wretched over Vermudyn’s disappearance, to light a fire and
boil some tea. As soon as I’d swallowed down my breakfast, I mounted my
horse, and rode backwards and forwards for a good two hours, searching
for the body, for I was clear in my own mind that my poor old mate was
dead.
‘Dead or alive, I hated to think of riding away and leaving him there
in the Devil’s Panniken. But it was no good. I hunted every hole and
corner within a mile of the place—as near as I could judge—where we
had spent the night. At last I gave up the hopeless search—no signs of
Vermudyn anywhere; and before noon, I had turned my horse’s head away
from the wretched place, and for the first mile or so I rode so hard
and fast that I began to blame my own folly in running away in broad
daylight. From what, too?
‘Ay, there was the rub! What was I riding away from? and how had I
escaped, while Vermudyn was lost? I was almost mad when I went over the
past twenty-four hours. I couldn’t believe my senses. All I’d seen and
heard too; and the only other witness was gone, vanished as completely
as if he had been a spectre or part of some nightmare dream!
‘I felt my brain reel as I passed mile after mile along the lonely
road, till at last I began to wonder if the Vermudyn I thought I knew
was ever a living man, or if he made part of a long hideous dream,
which I thought I should never forget or get over.
‘But I couldn’t cheat myself so; the man had written his name inside my
pocket-book, “C. Vermudyn,” and had given me a ring he told me he once
bought in an eastern bazaar. I’ve worn the ring ever since, in memory
of him and that awful Halloween night.
‘Sure enough, Vermudyn was no dream; but from that day to this his name
has never crossed my lips; and nothing would induce me ever again to
ride through the Devil’s Panniken either by day or night.
‘In my own mind, boys, it’s as clear as daylight that the body found in
that cave Gentleman Jack was telling you of a while since was neither
more nor less than the skeleton of my poor old mate Vermudyn. I
never thought to hear of his bones being found after all these years,
poor old chap; or of telling you to-night what happened to us that
Halloween in the Devil’s Panniken. I only hope he wasn’t alive in that
awful place!—alive, and shouting for help, shut up there alone, and
hopeless in the dark, whilst I was riding away in sunshine and clear
air!—Phaw!’ muttered the old man; ‘it’s no good to think of that now;
and talking’s dry work.—Another go of whisky, Pat!’
The murmurs of admiration, astonishment, and feeble doubt over this
wondrous story of Old Grizzly’s were arrested almost ere they began,
and each man stopped short, as a low, long laugh sounded through the
room, and they then perceived what, being absorbed in the ‘tale of
mystery,’ they had been too preoccupied to notice before—namely, that
a stranger had entered the room some time during the progress of the
narrative, and it was he who had dared to laugh! All eyes were turned
significantly and inquiringly upon this presumptuous stranger; and one
gentleman had gone so far as to deliver himself of the original remark,
that ‘he calculated to call that mighty cool,’ when the new-comer
advanced into the light of the flaring kerosene lamp, and Old Grizzly
sprang to his feet, speechless and aghast.
‘Well, old boy, don’t you know me now?’ asked the stranger. ‘Am I so
little like the Vermudyn you chummed with in Cherokee Dick’s claim?’
‘It’s Halloween _again_,’ muttered the other hoarsely, still delaying
to take the proffered hand.
‘And an unlucky night for me to turn up, after the scurvy trick I
played you,’ laughed the stranger. ‘But look here, mate—if you kept my
ring, I’ve kept yours; and I’m flesh and blood safe enough—no spirit
or demon, as you seem to fancy.’
Old Grizzly grasped both his hands, looking long and earnestly in his
face meanwhile. ‘It is Vermudyn!’ he at last exclaimed. ‘Though how
they found your bones yonder in the Devil’s Panniken, and yet you’re
alive and hearty here to-night, is more than Pat Murphy or any other
Irishman could explain!’
‘I had better say at once that there’s no mystery about
this—this—gentleman’s arrival to-night, at least,’ interposed
Gentleman Jack. ‘He is a chance companion and fellow-traveller of mine,
and like myself, he hails from ’Frisco last.’
‘As you seem to be in the humour for telling stories to-night, mates,’
observed the newcomer, ‘perhaps it wouldn’t be amiss if I explained to
my friend here, in your presence, the truth of his strange Halloween
experiences on the night he parted company with me—or I with
him—whichever you prefer.
‘I told you once,’ said he, addressing himself to Old Grizzly, ‘I had
travelled a good deal and spent some years in the East; but I never
told how much I had learned of the manner and customs of the people
I lived with; or that, amongst other diverting knowledge, I acquired
the art of smoking and eating that extract of hemp known in eastern
countries as “hashish;” and no one save those who have been under its
marvellous influence can ever understand the wonderful reality of the
illusions it produces—stronger and more powerful than any opium in
its effect, and less harmful to use. Years ago, the drug was almost
unknown; to-day, there are “hashish” eaters and smokers in most of the
big cities of the States.
‘At the time I’m speaking of, it was little known, and its effects
scarcely understood. I had taken it often enough myself; but some idle
whim prompted me to try the result of a dose on my friend here, that
special and memorable night of which he has just told you something.
Well, I administered a biggish dose in a pill I gave him for an aguish
turn he’d had; and after that, as we rode along I let him have some
tobacco, as his own was smoked out, and this tobacco of mine consisted
almost entirely of the dried hemp, the true “hashish.” We had not
ridden a great way into the Devil’s Panniken, talking, as we rode, of
the bad reputation of the place and the various legends concerning
it, when the drug began to take effect on my old friend here, and he
would have fallen from his horse, if I had not kept close beside him
and supported him with my arm. As matters were then, I decided to
dismount and camp for the night. For myself, I’d never been afraid of
man or demon, and I knew my companion could go no farther; so I easily
persuaded him to stop, though several times he muttered something about
riding on.
‘Well, I wrapped him in his blanket like a babby, lighted him another
pipe, just to compose him, and set to work to make a rousing fire,
for the night was cold, and a keen frosty wind came sweeping down
the ravine. He behaved strangely enough for some time, muttering and
talking, while I watched by him; then by turns singing and laughing,
while he stared at me or the fire. Once or twice he struggled hard
to get up; but by-and-by the hashish overpowered him, and he slept
soundly. I remained by him the whole night, and then tried in the early
dawn to awaken him, as we wanted to push on. But he slept so heavily,
that the idea occurred to me to ride off and leave him to wake alone,
thoroughly mystified between his hashish visions and the loss of me!
‘It was a bad, mad sort of practical joke, but I was full of such
follies in those early days. After I’d left him, I made tracks for the
town we’d determined on visiting together, and waited for him some
days; but he never turned up; and then an uneasy fear that some harm
had befallen my friend through my own folly, got hold of me; and taking
a sudden distaste for a digger’s life, I made my way to the nearest
port, and went on board a ship just starting for Europe, and which,
luckily for me, stood in need of an extra hand.
‘Since then, I’ve led a roving life on sea and shore, till fate landed
me here to-night in time to listen to the account of my mysterious end,
as it appeared to my worthy friend. I am sorry to spoil a good story,
mates; but the pleasure two old chums experience in finding each other
alive and hearty after so strange a parting—twenty years ago—will, I
hope, in some degree compensate for your disappointment in discovering
that the White Witch of the Devil’s Panniken had no hand in my fate
after all!’
‘But,’ interrupted Gentleman Jack, ‘a skeleton with a ring on its
finger was found recently in the cave.’
‘Quite possible,’ returned the new-comer; ‘but I am happy to say it is
not that of Cornelius Vermudyn.’
QUEEN MARGARET COLLEGE.
CORRESPONDENCE CLASSES.
In _Chambers’s Journal_ for October 25, 1879, we gave an account of
a method of _Education by Post_, which has been the means of drawing
considerable attention to the scheme. The scheme itself seems to be now
in a flourishing condition, and bids fair to place the education of
women on a sounder basis than heretofore. Some information regarding
the progress and prospects of the Glasgow Association for the Higher
Education of Women may not, therefore, be unacceptable.
The Association is now no longer known by its old cumbrous designation.
It has risen to a higher level, is incorporated under the more
euphonious name of Queen Margaret College, and looks forward to more
extended operations than were possible in the first years of its
existence. The munificent gift of a building in every way suited to
the purpose to which it is to be devoted, has given a great impetus
to the efforts to promote every branch of the work which was already
undertaken. Queen Margaret College—the gift of a lady who from the
first manifested a cordial interest in the higher education of her
sex—stands within its own grounds, in a pretty, half-secluded spot
not far from the University, and near enough to one of the great
thoroughfares of Glasgow to be easily accessible to students from all
parts of the city. Some progress has been already made towards the
endowment of lectureships, and no doubt the liberality of the donor of
the building will encourage the friends of education to make an effort
worthily to complete what has been so generously begun. Meantime,
lectures will be delivered by professors and others, tutorial classes
will be held, and new schemes will be organised for the benefit of
girls who have some respect for mental culture, and some aspirations
towards the development of the faculties with which they have been
endowed. As in the days of the ‘Association,’ so now the Correspondence
Classes will take their place as a branch of the work of Queen Margaret
College. There will be no change except in name.
A few years ago, comparatively little was known about Correspondence
Classes, that is, of education conducted between teacher and taught
through the medium of the post-office. The system was on its trial.
There were grave doubts and solemn shakings of the head when the scheme
was suggested as a substitute for oral teaching. It was pronounced
impossible that questions and answers sent to and fro between the
teacher and the taught could produce any satisfactory result, though
it was admitted by some objectors that this interchange might be of
some use where other instruction was not to be had; it was better than
nothing. Another class of objectors spoke deprecatingly of ‘cram’
with its train of evils, and among these were some who would have
judged otherwise, had they only for a moment thought of what they
were familiar with, university examination papers. One of the special
advantages of Correspondence is that the pupils are obliged to study
for themselves as thoroughly as they can any subject they take up. They
receive a plan of the course so divided that they know exactly how much
is expected for the lesson of each fortnight; they know where to look
for information; books of study are prescribed; books of reference
are suggested. Patient, careful, diligent study is the only true
preparation for this kind of work, and the faculties of the pupil are
fully exercised before the tutor steps in with corrections, comments,
and criticism.
Preparation for university examinations was the primary object of
the Correspondence Classes. To girls who had no opportunity of
attending lectures or other classes, a way was opened by which they
might compete for university certificates and prizes; and the high
place taken by Correspondence pupils on the lists of successful
candidates is sufficient proof of the efficiency of the system. But of
incalculably greater, because wider, benefit are these classes to the
ever-increasing number of young men and women who are not content with
the small stock of knowledge acquired, under more or less favourable
circumstances, at a period when the brain itself was still immature.
There are many who thirst for knowledge, but know not how to direct
their steps in the line of self-education. There is much misguided
effort, leading only to disappointment and discouragement; sincere
desire for improvement languishes, and finally passes away, just for
want of guidance and stimulus. It is no wonder, then, that the system
of Correspondence is rapidly growing in favour, and is carried on not
only by Associations in connection with universities, but by private
teachers, working either singly or in combination with others, under
self-imposed regulations which are probably more elastic than those
formed under the shadow of a university.
The scheme of Queen Margaret College combines the advantages of
both, inasmuch as it offers instruction not only in the subjects
prescribed for all the Glasgow University examinations which are open
to women, but also in a number of subjects outside the University
programme. In order to exhibit more clearly the nature and scope of
the scheme, a brief review of the branches of study will be useful.
They are classified in five grades. There are first, the preliminary
or common subjects—English, history, geography, arithmetic,
Scripture, and Latin. Next to these are what are termed the junior
subjects—Composition, literature, history and geography, Scripture
history, Latin, Greek, French, German, Italian, mathematics, astronomy,
chemistry, botany, zoology, physiology, and physiography. The senior
course includes, besides the subjects of the junior grade carried
further, classes in political economy and logic. In the higher course
the subjects are divided into five departments: (1) English, including
the history of the language and literature; (2) foreign languages,
with reference in each case to the history of the literature; (3)
mathematical sciences; (4) logic, metaphysics, moral philosophy,
political economy, and history; (5) chemistry, botany, geology,
zoology, and physiology. The fifth course is intended to prepare
candidates for the examinations in degree subjects. These subjects
include all that are required for the M.A. and B.Sc. degrees.
In this large and comprehensive scheme there is provision made for
a great variety of students, and it need scarcely be said that it
attracts pupils at home and abroad, differing in age, capacity, and
attainment. By means of the elementary classes, children are educated
at home; and girls in the novitiate of their intelligence, who have
come to the end of their school-days, find in them the means of
culture. The literature of England, France, and Germany is open to
them; studies in history and language, in science and philosophy,
invite to further progress in what will enrich their minds, and
save them from the vacuity that too often ensues when the routine
of school-life is ended. Young men in business, ladies engaged in
teaching, and ladies, too, with plenty of leisure for the pursuit of
a favourite study, are among the most eager students; and not the
least interesting are foreigners, whose papers call forth the hearty
commendation of their tutors, not only for great painstaking and
vigorous thinking, but also for a style of English which reflects great
credit upon their powers of acquisition. These and many others find in
the Correspondence Classes an aid and stimulus to study, and a medium
of intercourse with men abreast of the age, taking a fresh and living
interest in the subjects which they teach, and sparing no pains to
direct and encourage their students to honest, thorough, diligent, and
therefore productive study.
It is scarcely possible to touch on a subject like this without
endeavouring to enlist the active co-operation of the young people of
the present day. Within the last few years many educational forces
have been set in motion. By degrees the charge of flimsiness will be
withdrawn from the education of girls; but it must always be kept
in mind that anything worthy of the name of education is not to be
got save at the cost of thorough systematic effort on the part of
the student. Work begets the love of work, and what at first may be
regarded as a drudgery, begins to be estimated at its true value,
not only as a means to an end, but as in itself a pleasure. Subjects
which educate thought and reflection are suggested to the pupil; the
prospect widens; higher attainments are seen to be within reach; and
an end is put to that easy contentment which is satisfied with a few
showy accomplishments and a too slender knowledge of what is best worth
knowing.
Detailed information relating to the Correspondence Classes may be
had from the Honorary Secretary, Miss Jane S. Macarthur, 4 Buckingham
Street, Hillhead, Glasgow.
THE MONTH:
SCIENCE AND ARTS.