Life-history of the water-rat--No science can stand alone--What is a
water-rat?--The voles of the land and water--Their remarkable teeth--The
rodents and their incisor teeth--The tooth and the chisel--The skate
"iron"--Chewing the cud--Teeth of the elephant--Feet of the
water-vole--A false accusation--Water-voles in gardens--Winter
stores--Cats and water-voles--Subterranean pioneering--Mental character
of the water-vole--Standing fire--Its mode of eating.
Plop!
A water-rat has taken alarm, and has leaped into the brook.
A common animal enough, but none the less worthy of notice because it is
common. Indeed, it is in many respects a very remarkable creature, and
we may think ourselves fortunate that we have the opportunity of
studying its habits and structure.
There is much more in the animal than meets the eye, and we cannot
examine its life-history without at the same time touching upon that of
several other creatures. No science stands alone, neither does any
animal, however insignificant it may appear to be; and we shall find
that before we have done with the water-rat, we shall have had something
to say of comparative anatomy, ornithology, ichthyology, entomology and
botany, beside treating of the connection which exists between man and
the lower animals, and the reciprocal influence of civilisation and
animal life.
In the first place, let us define our animal.
What is a water-rat, and where is its place in zoological systems of the
present day? Its name in science is _Arvícola amphíbius_. This title
tells its own story.
Though popularly called a rat, the animal has no right to the name,
although, like the true rat, it is a rodent, and much resembles the rat
in size and in the length and colour of its fur. The likeness, however,
extends no further.
The rats are long-nosed and sharp-snouted animals, whereas the water-rat
has a short, blunt nose. Then, the ears of the rats are large and stand
out boldly from the head, while those of the water-rat are small, short,
and rounded. Again, the tail of the rat is long and slender, while that
of the water-rat is comparatively short. Place the two animals side by
side, and you will wonder how anyone could mistake the one for the
other.
The teeth, too, are quite different.
Instead of being white, like those of the rat, the incisor teeth are
orange-yellow, like those of the beaver. Indeed, the water-rat possesses
so many beaver-like characteristics, that it was ranked near the beaver
in the systematic lists.
Now, however, the Voles, as these creatures ought rightly to be called,
are thought to be of sufficient importance to be placed by themselves,
and separated from the true beavers.
The voles constitute quite a large group of rodents, including several
animals which are popularly ranked among the mice.
One very remarkable characteristic of the voles is the structure of
their molar teeth.
Being rodents, they can have but two incisor teeth in each jaw, these
teeth being rootless, and so set in their sockets that they are
incessantly worn away in front, and as incessantly grow from the base,
take the curved form of their sockets, and act much like shears which
have the inestimable property of self-sharpening when blunted, and
self-renewal when chipped or actually broken off by coming against any
hard substance. Were the teeth to be without this power, the animal
would run a great risk of dying from hunger, the injured tooth not being
able either to do its own work, or to aid its companion of the opposite
jaw. Either tooth alone would be as useless as a single blade of a pair
of scissors.
There is another notable characteristic of these incisor teeth. If you
will examine the incisors of any rodent, whether it be a rat, a mouse, a
rabbit, or a beaver, you will see that the tips are "bevelled" off just
like the edge of a chisel. This shape is absolutely necessary to keep
the tooth in working order. How is this object to be attained?
In the solution of this problem we may see one of the many links which
connect art and nature.
Should our readers know anything of carpentering, let them examine the
structure of their chisels. They are not made wholly of hard steel, as
in that case they would be liable to snap, just as does the blade of a
foil when undue pressure is brought to bear upon it. Moreover, the
operation of sharpening would be extremely difficult.
So the blade of the chisel is merely faced with a thin plate of hardened
steel, the remainder being of softer material.
Now, it is not at all likely that the unknown inventor of the modern
chisel was aware of the analogy between art and nature, and would
probably have been very much surprised if anyone had stated that he had
borrowed his idea from the incisor teeth of the water-rat.
Yet he might have done so, for these teeth are almost wholly formed of
ordinary tooth matter, and are faced with a thin plate of hard enamel,
which exactly corresponds with the hardened steel facing of a chisel.
Any of my readers who possess skates will find, on examination, that the
greater part of the blade is, in reality, soft iron, the steel, which
comes upon the ice, being scarcely a fifth of an inch in length. The
hardened steel allows the blade to take the necessary edge, while the
soft iron preserves the steel from snapping.
Should the skate have been neglected and allowed to become a little
rusty, the line of demarcation between the steel and the iron can be
distinctly seen. Similarly, in the beaver and the water-rat, the
orange-yellow colour of the enamel facing causes it to be easily
distinguished from the rest of the tooth. In most of the rodents the
enamel is white, and the line of demarcation is scarcely visible.
Now we have to treat of a question of mechanics.
If two substances of different degrees of hardness be subjected to the
same amount of friction, it follows that the softer will be worn away
long before the harder. It is owing to this principle that the edges of
the rodent teeth preserve their chisel-like form. Being continually
employed in nibbling, the softer backing of the teeth is rapidly worn
away, while the hard plate of enamel upon the front of the tooth is but
slightly worn, the result being the bevelled shape which is so
characteristic of these teeth.
As all know, who have kept rabbits or white mice, the animals are always
engaged in gnawing anything which will yield to their teeth, and unless
the edges of their feeding troughs be protected by metal, will nibble
them to pieces in a few days. Indeed, so strong is this instinct, that
the health of the animals is greatly improved by putting pieces of wood
into their cages, merely for the purpose of allowing them to exercise
their chisel-edged teeth. Even when they have nothing to gnaw, the
animals will move their jaws incessantly, just as if they were eating, a
movement which gave rise to the idea that they chewed the cud.
It is worthy of remark that other animals, which, though not rodents,
need to possess chisel-edged incisor teeth, have a similar habit. Such
is the hippopotamus, and such is the hyrax, the remarkable rock-haunting
animal, which in the authorised translation of the Scriptures is called
the "coney," and which in the Revised Version is allowed in the margin
to retain its Hebrew name, "shaphan."
The enamel also has an important part to play in the structure of the
molar teeth. Each tooth is surrounded with the enamel plate, which is so
intricately folded that the tooth looks as if it were made of a series
of enamel triangles, each enclosing the tooth matter.
This structure is common to all the members of the group to which the
water-rat belongs. It is the more remarkable because we find a somewhat
similar structure in the molar teeth of the elephants, which, like the
rodents, have the incisor teeth largely developed and widely separated
from the molars.
There is nothing in the appearance of the water-rat which gives any
indication of its aquatic habits.
For example, we naturally expect to find that the feet of swimming
animals are webbed. The water-loving capybara of South America, the
largest existing rodent, has its hoof-like toes partially united by
webs, so that its aquatic habits might easily be inferred even by those
who were unacquainted with the animal. Even the otter, which propels
itself through the water mostly by means of its long and powerful tail,
has the feet furnished with webs. So has the aquatic Yapock opossum of
Australia, while the feet of the duck-bill are even more boldly webbed
than those of the bird from which it takes its popular name. The
water-shrews (whom we shall presently meet) are furnished with a fringe
of stiff hair round the toes which answers the same purpose as the web.
But the structure of the water-rat gives no indication of its habits, so
that no one who was unacquainted with the animal would even suspect its
swimming and diving powers. Watch it as long as you like, and I do not
believe that you will see it eating anything of an animal nature.
I mention this fact because it is often held up to blame as a
mischievous animal, especially deserving the wrath of anglers by
devouring the eggs and young of fish.
As is often the case in the life-history of animals as well as of men,
the blame is laid on the wrong shoulders. If the destruction of fish be
a crime, there are many criminals, the worst and most persistent of
which are the fish themselves, which not only eat the eggs and young of
other fish, but, Saturn-like, have not the least scruple in devouring
their own offspring.
Scarcely less destructive in its own insidious way is the common
house-rat, which eats everything which according to our ideas is edible,
and a good many which we might think incapable of affording sustenance
even to a rat. In the summer time it often abandons for a time the
house, the farm, the barn, and seeks for a change of diet by the brook.
These water-haunting creatures are naturally mistaken for the
vegetable-feeding water-vole, and so the latter has to bear the blame of
their misdoings.
There are lesser inhabitants of the brook which are injurious both to
the eggs and young of fish. Among them are several of the larger
water-beetles, some of which are so large and powerful that, when placed
in an aquarium with golden carp, they have made havoc among the fish,
always attacking them from below. Although they cannot kill and devour
the fish at once, they inflict such serious injuries that the creature
is sure to die shortly.
I do not mean to assert that the water-vole is never injurious to man.
Civilisation disturbs for a time the balance of Nature, and when man
ploughs or digs the ground which had previously been untouched by plough
or spade, and sows the seeds of herbs and cereals in land which has
previously produced nothing but wild plants, he must expect that the
animals to whom the soil had been hitherto left will fail to understand
that they can no more consider themselves as the owners, and will in
consequence do some damage to the crops.
Moreover, even putting their food aside, their habits often render them
obnoxious to civilised man. The mole, for example, useful as it really
is in a field, does very great harm in a garden or lawn, although it
eats none of the produce.
The water-vole, however, is doubly injurious when the field or garden
happens to be near the water-side. It is a mighty burrower, driving its
tunnels to great distances. Sometimes it manages to burrow into a
kitchen-garden, and feeds quite impartially on the different crops. It
has even been seen to venture to a considerable distance from water,
crossing a large field, making its way into a garden, and carrying off
several pods of the French bean.
In the winter time, when other food fails, the water-vole, like the hare
and rabbit, will eat turnips, mangold-wurzel, the bark of young trees,
and similar food. Its natural food, however, is to be found among the
various aquatic plants, as I have often seen, and the harm which it does
to the crops is so infinitesimally small when compared with the area of
cultivated ground, that it is not worthy of notice.
Still, although the harm which it does to civilised man in the aggregate
is but small, even its most friendly advocate cannot deny that there are
cases where it has been extremely troublesome to the individual
cultivator, especially if he be an amateur.
There are many hard men of business, who are obliged to spend the
greater part of the day in their London offices, and who find their best
relaxation in amateur gardening; those who grow vegetables, regarding
their peas, beans, potatoes, and celery with as much affection as is
felt by floriculturists for their roses or tulips.
Nothing is more annoying to such men than to find, when the toils of
business are over, and they have settled themselves comfortably into
their gardening suits, that some marauder has carried off the very
vegetables on which they had prided themselves.
The water-vole has been detected in the act of climbing up a ladder
which had been left standing against a plum tree, and attacking the
fruit. Bunches of grapes on outdoor vines are sometimes nipped off the
branches by the teeth of the water-vole, and the animal has been seen to
climb beans and peas, split the pods, and devour the contents.
Although not a hibernating animal, it lays up a store of food in the
autumn. Mr. Groom Napier has the following description of the contents
of a water-rat's storehouse:--
"Early in the spring of 1855, I dug out the burrow of a water-vole, and
was surprised to find at the further extremity a cavity of about a foot
in diameter, containing a quantity of fragments of carrots and potatoes,
sufficient to fill a peck measure. This was undoubtedly a part of its
winter store of provisions. This food had been gathered from a large
potato and carrot bed in the vicinity.
"On pointing out my discovery to the owner of the garden, he said that
his losses had been very serious that winter owing to the ravages of
these animals, and said that he had brought both dogs and cats down to
the stream to hunt for them; but they were too wary to be often caught."
I do not think that the owner of the garden knew very much about the
characters either of the cat or water-vole.
Every one who is practically acquainted with cats knows that it is next
to impossible to point out an object to a cat as we can to a dog. She
looks at your finger, but can never direct her gaze to the object at
which you are pointing. In fact, I believe that pussy's eyes are not
made for detecting objects at a distance.
If we throw a piece of biscuit to a dog, and he does not see where it
has fallen, we can direct him by means of voice and finger. But, if a
piece of meat should fall only a foot or two from a cat, all the
pointing in the world will not enable her to discover it, and it is
necessary to pick her up and put her nose close to the meat before she
can find it.
So, even, if a water-vole should be seen by the master, the attention of
the cat could not be directed to it, her instinct teaching her to take
prey in quite a different manner.
The dogs, supposing that they happened to be of the right breed, would
have a better chance of securing the robber, providing that they
intercepted its retreat to the water. But if the water-vole should
succeed in gaining its burrow, or in plunging into the stream, I doubt
whether any dog would be able to catch it.
Moreover, the water-vole is so clever in tunnelling, that when it drives
its burrows into cultivated ground, it almost invariably conceals the
entrance under a heap of stones, a wood pile, or some similar object.
How it is enabled to direct the course of its burrow we cannot even
conjecture, except by attributing the faculty to that "most excellent
gift" which we call by the convenient name of "instinct."
Man has no such power, but when he wishes to drive a tunnel in any given
direction he is obliged to avail himself of levels, compasses,
plumb-lines, and all the paraphernalia of the engineer. Yet, with
nothing to direct it except instinct, the water-vole can, though working
in darkness, drive its burrow in any direction and emerge from the
ground exactly at the spot which it has selected.
The mole can do the same, and by means equally mysterious.
I may casually mention that the water-vole is one of the aquatic animals
which, when zoological knowledge was not so universal as it is at the
present day, were reckoned as fish, and might be eaten on fast days. I
believe that in some parts of France this idea still prevails.
With all its wariness, the water-vole is a strangely nervous creature,
being for a time almost paralysed by a sudden shock. This trait of
character I discovered quite unexpectedly.
Many, many years ago, when I was a young lad, and consequently of a
destructive nature, I possessed a pistol, of which I was rather proud.
It certainly was an excellent weapon, and I thought myself tolerably
certain of hitting a small apple at twelve yards distance.
One day, while walking along the bank of the Cherwell River, I saw a
water-vole on the opposite bank. The animal was sitting on a small stump
close to the water's edge. Having, of course, the pistol with me, and
wanting to dissect a water-vole, I proceeded to aim at the animal. This
was not so easy as it looked. A water-vole crouching upon a stump
presents no point at which to aim, the brown fur of the animal and the
brown surface of the old weather-beaten stump seeming to form a single
object without any distinct outline; moreover, it is very difficult to
calculate distances over water. However, I fired, and missed.
I naturally expected the animal to plunge into the river and escape. To
my astonishment, it remained in the same position. Finding that it did
not stir, I reloaded, and again fired and missed. Four times did I fire
at that water-vole, and after the last shot the animal slowly crawled
off the stump, slid into the river, and made off.
Now in those days revolvers and breech-loaders did not exist, so that
the process of loading a pistol with ball was rather a long and
complicated one.
First, the powder had to be carefully measured from the flask; then a
circular patch of greased linen had to be laid on the muzzle of the
weapon, and a ball laid on it and hammered into the barrel with a leaden
or wooden mallet; then it had to be driven into its place with a ramrod
(often requiring the aid of the mallet), and, lastly, there was a new
cap to be fitted. Yet although so much time was occupied between the
shots, the animal remained as motionless as a stuffed figure.
When I crossed the river and examined the stump I found all the four
bullets close together just below the spot on which the animal had been
sitting, and neither of them two inches from its body. Although the
balls had missed the water-vole, they must have sharply jarred the
stump.
I was afterwards informed that this semi-paralysis from sudden fear is a
known characteristic of the animal. It seems to be shared by others of
the same genus, as will be seen when we come to treat of the field mice.
In its mode of eating it much resembles the squirrels, sitting on its
haunches and holding the food in its forepaws, as if they were hands. I
am not aware that it even eats worms or insects, and it may be
absolutely acquitted from any imputation of doing harm to any of the
fish tribe.
(_To be continued._)
"SHE COULDN'T BOIL A POTATO;"
OR,
THE IGNORANT HOUSEKEEPER, AND HOW SHE ACQUIRED KNOWLEDGE.
BY DORA HOPE.
"The late Miss Ella!"
"When are you going to turn over that new leaf you spoke of, my
daughter?"
"There's a little coffee left, but the bacon is quite cold."
These were the exclamations that greeted a tall bright girl, as she
entered the breakfast room one morning.
"I am very sorry, papa. I really meant to be down in time, but I suppose
I must have gone to sleep again after I was called." And being really
vexed with herself for having so soon broken her good resolutions,
formed for the hundredth time the day before, Ella Hastings accepted the
cold bacon meekly, and even turned a deaf ear to the withering sarcasms
of her two schoolboy brothers, who were leisurely strapping together
their books, and delaying their departure till the last moment.
"There is the postman coming up the garden; run and get the letters,
Hughie."
A solemn-looking boy of six years old climbed down from his chair, in
obedience to his father's request, and soon came back with a handful of
letters, and settled himself patiently by his father's side to wait for
the empty envelopes, which formed his share of the morning's
correspondence.
An exclamation of surprise from Mr. Hastings caused his wife to look up
inquiringly from the letter she had just opened, and he handed her
silently a telegram which had been forwarded, with other papers, from
his office, where it had evidently been delivered late the previous
evening. Kate, the eldest daughter, leaning over her mother's shoulder,
read aloud the short notice:--
"Mrs. Wilson dangerously ill; letter follows."
Mrs. Wilson was Mr. Hastings' only remaining sister. His mother had died
when he was almost an infant, and this "sister Mary" had slipped into
her place as mother, teacher--everything, to her little brothers and
sisters; never leaving them, till the father having died also, and her
young charges being all old enough to settle in life for themselves, she
had rewarded the faithful waiting of her old lover, and they had settled
down together in a quiet village a few miles from the noisy town where
his business lay. Her happy married life lasted but a short time,
however, and for the many years since her husband's death she had
preferred to live entirely alone with her two maids and a strange medley
of pet animals--finding employment and interest for her declining years
in her books and her garden.
From being so long alone she had grown eccentric in her ways, and very
odd and decided in her views; but she kept a warm corner in her heart
for her favourite brother and his children, who heartily returned their
aunt's affection, though they stood a good deal in awe of her keen
penetrating gaze and sarcastic criticisms.
She had always prided herself on her good constitution, and despised
doctors and dentists as people who pandered to the fads and fancies of a
degenerate generation--a generation who, according to her creed,
weakened their backs and ruined their health by lounging on sofas and
easy chairs, while, for her part, though seventy years of age, she was
thankful to say a straight-backed chair was good enough for her. It may
be imagined that for this self-reliant, vigorous Aunt Mary to be taken
seriously ill, so ill as to have to summon help, was a great shock, and
Mr. Hastings decided at once that he must go to see his sister, and that
one of his daughters should accompany him; but the telegram was so
short, and gave so little information, that nothing further could be
arranged till the noonday post arrived, which always brought the letters
from Hapsleigh.
The morning seemed endless, but noon came at last, and with it the
promised letter, which was eagerly opened and read. It was from Mrs.
Mobberly, a near neighbour of Mrs. Wilson's. She described the sudden
illness, and all that had been done for the sufferer. "The doctor says
that for a day or two he cannot tell what the result may be, though we
may hope for the best. He has sent in a thoroughly trustworthy trained
nurse, but he agrees with me that it would be a good thing if one of
your daughters could come to take charge of the household, for even if
all goes as well as possible it will be a long and tedious recovery, and
the invalid must be kept perfectly quiet and free from all worry."
"Well, girls," said Mr. Hastings, as he finished reading the letter,
"you must decide between yourselves which of you will go. As there seems
no immediate danger, we need not leave till to-morrow morning, so you
will have a little time for preparation; but however great a sacrifice
it is for you to go, and for us to part with you, there is no question
about it. Aunt Mary must not be left alone till she is quite herself
again, so I will telegraph to Mrs. Mobberly that one of you will go with
me by the first train to-morrow."
There was no room for disputing the point when Mr. Hastings spoke in
that decided tone; moreover, the girls themselves would have said just
the same--that someone must go; but the question was, "who?"
"Kate, it must be you," said Ella, eagerly. "I do not know anything
about nursing or housekeeping, or anything of that sort, and you know I
always say and do the wrong thing."
Mrs. Hastings looked anxious and perplexed. "I really do not know what
to do for the best," she said. "I do not see how I can spare you, Kate;
for if I have one of my bad attacks I must have you at hand; and you
see, Ella, you would have everything to learn here just as much as at
Hapsleigh, and I think you would find teaching the children very hard
work."
Kate, the eldest daughter, was her mother's unfailing assistant, and
almost entirely relieved her of the care of the three little ones;
indeed, during Mrs. Hastings's frequent attacks of asthma, Kate was both
ready and able to take entire charge of the household, and she felt
that to leave her mother with only Ella's help would be throwing more
care upon her than her delicate health could bear. She spoke decidedly,
therefore; and, after a little more discussion, it was agreed that Ella
should accompany her father, prepared to stay as long as she might be
required.
The rest of the day was fully occupied with packing and making
arrangements. Ella was rather apt to let her clothing take care of
itself, and, in a sudden emergency such as this, had to borrow right and
left. Indeed, Mrs. Hastings and Kate were both kept busy all the
afternoon looking over and supplying the deficiencies in her outfit.
"That dressing-gown will not do at all, Ella. It is most important to
have a thoroughly warm one when you have to sit up at night. Yours is
very pretty, but blue cashmere and lace are not suitable for a sick room
in cold weather. You will have to borrow Kate's thick flannel gown. You
should have my quilted silk one, but in such a great thickness of
material one's arms do not feel quite free to help an invalid, or shake
up a bed."
"Here it is, Ella," rejoined Kate; "and I have brought you my thick
bedroom slippers, too. They are not so elegant as your Turkish ones, but
they are much warmer. Be sure you keep them by the side of your bed, so
that you can slip them on directly if you are called up suddenly. You
know you take cold so easily, and it would be so awkward if you had one
of your bad throats at Hapsleigh."
Mrs. Hastings felt very anxious about her daughter, called upon so
suddenly to take up such important and unexpected duties, and gave her a
great deal of loving counsel.
"You will have to manage to get up earlier, dear child," she said. "You
know Aunt Mary's servants are always rather inclined to go their own
way, and they may perhaps try to take advantage of her illness to keep
irregular hours and slight their work; and you must remember that you
will be responsible for good order in the house, and that is impossible
unless all the household are regular and punctual in beginning their
day's work at the proper time. I will let you have my little clock, and
you can set the alarum at whatever time you wish to get up."
"Yes; I really am going to turn over a new leaf about that; but you
know, mother, I shall feel more obliged to get up now when I am
responsible for things going right. Oh, dear! what a dreadful thought! I
am sure I shall never manage. Why, I can't cook, and I can't keep
accounts, and I have no idea how many pounds of meat people want for
dinner. I shall order a tin of Australian meat, and just have it at
every meal till it is finished, and then get another."
"I am afraid the servants will soon give you notice if you do, Ella,"
said Mrs. Hastings, laughing at her daughter's ideas of housekeeping.
"You will soon get accustomed to the size of joints and puddings, if you
get into the habit of noticing them, remembering how long they last. But
there are two other pieces of advice which I want you to remember and to
act upon. If your father decides that it is necessary for you to stay
and act as mistress, he will tell the servants so; but you must assert
yourself as mistress at once, and take everything into your own hands.
You will find it rather difficult at first, but it will save you a great
deal of trouble in the end. I have seen endless discomfort caused by
young and timid housekeepers not liking to take the reins into their own
hands. But, at the same time, be very careful never to interfere or
complain, unless you are quite sure that it is necessary, and that you
are in the right. If you are in any doubt you can always consult Mrs.
Mobberly; and you must make allowances for the fact that the servants
have always been allowed to do pretty much what they liked, and will
naturally expect to continue doing so; therefore do not complain unless
you have unmistakable grounds for it, and never, under any
circumstances, speak hastily or angrily. If you are put out, wait till
your vexation has cooled down a little; and then, if you are quite sure
you are in the right, speak quietly and kindly, but so decidedly that
there may be no mistake about your intention of being obeyed."
"Oh, dear!" groaned Ella, who was almost reduced to tears at the
prospect of such serious responsibility. "I am sure I shall come home
ignominiously in a week. I know just how it will be. Just think of Aunt
Mary's scorn when she finds I don't even know how to boil a potato!"
There was no time for lamentations, however, and her mother and Kate
both comforted her with the assurance that at any rate no one would
blame her if she did her best, and they would expect a few mistakes from
a girl only just home from school.
The next morning, at any rate, Ella was punctual, and at eight o'clock
they all sat down to breakfast.
"I made tea for you, Ella," said Mrs. Hastings. "I thought it would be
better for you before such a long journey. Coffee sometimes disagrees
with people who are not very good travellers. And I advise you not to
take bacon; it so often makes one thirsty. Here is potted meat; that
would be better for you."
Ella felt in very low spirits, and her mother's and Kate's affectionate
kindness only brought the despised tears into her eyes. She could hardly
touch her breakfast, and was relieved when Kate left the table, and
began to look after the small articles of luggage.
"Robin, did you strap up the rugs? Oh, what an untidy bundle!" and the
methodical Kate unfastened the straps and rearranged the contents. First
the large rug was folded lengthwise till it was just as wide as the
length of the bundle should be when finished. Then came Ella's shawl, an
awkward one for a neat roll, as it had long fringe; but Kate turned in
the fringe all round first, and then folded the shawl itself till it was
just a little narrower than the rug; the ulster was carefully folded
also to the same size, and both were laid on one end of the rug.
Finally, Ella's umbrella and sunshade were laid across the pile of
wraps, and all were rolled round carefully, so that none of the articles
inside protruded, and the rug, being longer than the others, hid all the
ends, and, when strapped round just tightly enough to hold all together
comfortably without unnecessary squeezing, it made such a neat-looking
roll as compelled even Robin's admiration. Ella's travelling-cap had
been inside the bundle before, but Kate took it out and advised her to
carry it in her hand-bag, as being easily accessible if she did not wish
to undo the strap.
All was ready at last, the rugs, the hand-bag, and the tin trunk, to
which at the last moment Kate came running to tie a piece of red braid,
by which to distinguish it, making Ella and the boys laugh at what they
called her "incurable old-maidishness."
"Never mind," she replied, nodding sagely, "you will thank me when you
have to hunt for your box amongst twenty others exactly like it."
Kate had suggested going to the station to see them off, but her father
objected.
"We shall get on better alone," he argued. "We settle ourselves
comfortably in our corners at once, unroll our rugs, and make everything
ready before we start, instead of having to make spasmodic efforts to
think of last remarks and messages. Of course, if Ella were going alone
I should go to see her off, but as it is I would rather not have anyone
with us."
Mrs. Hastings thought this a rather hard-hearted way of looking at the
matter; but as Ella quite agreed with her father, feeling convinced she
could not be able to keep from crying if the farewells were too long
protracted, there was nothing for it but to yield, and as soon as the
cab came to the door the parting was hurried through, and, almost before
she had time to realise that she was really going, Ella found herself
halfway to the station.
The railway journey was a long and troublesome one, involving several
changes. Before midday Ella had recovered her spirits and her appetite,
and acted on Kate's advice. "Do not wait for father to suggest lunch,"
she had said; "you may be sure he will not begin to feel hungry till you
are quite ravenous." Remembering this, Ella laughed to herself at Mr.
Hastings's surprise when she suggested that she was ready for her lunch,
and proceeded to unpack her stores.
"This is the first course, I suppose," she said, as she produced two
neat white-paper packages, each with the name of the contents written on
it. "This one contains potted meat sandwiches, and these are chicken.
They look very nice, too. These sprigs of watercress between the
sandwiches are a great improvement."
"Yes, I must confess they are very good ones," assented Mr. Hastings,
after trying one of each kind. "I think someone must have been giving
the cook a lecture on the art of cutting them. Home-made sandwiches have
generally too much butter, so that they are too rich to eat, and the
paper they are wrapped in is greasy and disagreeable; but these have
just the right quantity, and they are made with suitable bread--not, as
I have often had them, of spongy bread, full of holes, through which the
butter and meat oozes on to one's fingers."
In addition to these there were, for Ella's benefit, a few sandwiches
made with damson jam, from which the stones had been extracted. The next
course consisted of some small cakes and a few ripe pears. By way of
beverage, Mrs. Hastings had supplied Ella with a flask of cold tea, made
weak, and with a squeeze of lemon in it, which she had always found the
best possible drink for quenching thirst; when travelling herself she
always took either this or lime-juice and water. Finally, knowing that
Ella had a good appetite, and would probably get very hungry before
reaching her journey's end, her mother had told the cook to fill a small
jam pot with lemon jelly, and to provide a teaspoon to eat it with. Ella
found this most refreshing, and her lunch altogether was very
satisfactory; certainly the supply was rather too bountiful, but that
fact did not trouble her much, for she soon noticed a poor,
hungry-looking boy on one of the stations, who thankfully accepted all
that was left.
In spite of the length of the journey, Ella quite enjoyed the day; her
father was so kind and took such good care of her. He insisted on her
getting out of the carriage and walking up and down the platform
whenever the train stopped long enough, that she might not be tired of
sitting still; and when it began to get dark he made her put her feet up
on the seat and tucked her up with the rug, and made her so comfortable
that, to her own great surprise, she went fast asleep, and only awoke as
her father was collecting their books and wraps on nearing their
destination.
(_To be continued._)
MERLE'S CRUSADE.
BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of "Aunt Diana," "For Lilias," etc.