Mr Batfid was true to his word, and the new clothes were duly
delivered; and when day broke on the 13th of June, all was in readiness
for Isaac's departure. Mrs Clappen, after much cogitation, could put
this journey down to no other cause than her lodger's marriage on the
quiet; not that she had reason to suppose he meditated taking such a
step, but as he was so 'close' in his manner, she was pretty sure he
would not take her into his confidence until the fact was accomplished.
Although this was not Isaac's intention just at present, yet he had
often thought whether he, as a landed proprietor, ought not to take
unto himself a wife. With so very much on his side, he had no doubt of
being able to find, whenever he might think proper to seek, a lady not
only ready but eager to ally herself to so desirable a partner.
The only bar to his taking upon himself the holy estate of matrimony
had been the expense; since he justly considered that no two persons,
be they ever so economical, could by any possibility subsist on the
same amount of rations, &c. as one, even supposing them to be like the
wedded couple celebrated in song, one of whom could eat no fat, the
other no lean, and thus, by a happy division of labour, accomplishing
the cleanliness of the platter. It was not likely that Isaac would
be so fortunate as this; and supposing he were, he and his good lady
would not be able to do a similar thing with regard to clothes as the
before-mentioned happy pair did with regard to victuals.
Isaac had many times considered this matter, and with his usual
perspicuity, had arrived at the conclusion that there was but one
course open to him; to wit, his alliance with some lady possessing
sufficient means of her own to be able to bear her share in the cost of
housekeeping--thus making matrimony subservient to patrimony; and his
intention was to look out for such a party.
The sunlight peeping into Isaac's bedroom awoke that wary individual,
who proceeded to arise and dress himself in his new apparel. This
apparel was not, after all, entirely satisfactory, inasmuch as Mr
Batfid, too much impressed apparently with the magnitude of his
undertaking, had exaggerated the length of the seams and the fineness
of his customer's figure; for Isaac found himself arrayed in a pair of
inexpressibles very much too long, a waistcoat very much too tight,
and a coat very much too high in the neck, very much too long in the
sleeves, and likewise in the waist.
Nothing could be done but brace up the first until they nearly mounted
to his arm-pits (and were even then too long), let out the second as
far as it would go, and turn up the cuffs of the third. Thus habited,
and with a cotton umbrella in one hand and an old carpet-bag in the
other, Isaac made for the railway station, caught the 10.33 train, and
was whisked up to London in an hour and five minutes.
He was not an entire stranger in that city, for he had visited it once
before in company with his mother's half-brother, and remembered where
to put up; namely, at a small coffee-house in the neighbourhood of
Islington. Arrived there and a small bedroom engaged, the umbrella and
bag were deposited in a corner, and Isaac, after carefully locking the
door, took himself out for a stroll, telling the landlord he would be
back at six o'clock, when he would regale himself with a chop and slice
of cheese by way of dinner. Not that he entertained any high-fangled
notions about dining late, but because of the economy of the thing; for
a bun and a glass of water contented him in the middle of the day;
and by this arrangement of six o'clock dinner, tea and supper were
both dispensed with, these two meals per day being thus ticked off to
Isaac's credit.
The first few weeks of his sojourn passed in a manner that would have
been intolerably slow to anybody else, but did not appear so to him.
There was much for him to see and admire in his own way, and this way
was to walk about from morn till eve through the crowded streets, and
more particularly those which were devoted entirely to business. Thus,
next to a visit to the Docks, perhaps his favourite walk was through
Upper and Lower Thames Street, where he would watch the loading and
unloading of the various goods and merchandise. Not indeed with any
distinct and particular purpose; but it was a delight to him to gaze
upon these outward signs of the wealth within, and to ruminate on the
possibility that he might one day acquire a share and interest in some
large money-making business, which would serve as a stepping-stone to
yet greater wealth and influence; and to be able to purchase such an
interest was probably one of the reasons for his parsimoniousness. A
laudable ambition, so far as it went; but the end was more thought of
than the means by which it was to be accomplished; not indeed that he
harboured an intention of any dishonesty, but he simply considered
that the more he scraped, the sooner the final consummation would be
attained.
POISONED ARROWS.
That savages in various quarters of the world possess the knowledge
and means of rendering their arrows poisonous, is a statement which is
generally believed by ordinary individuals, from the schoolboy fresh
from the perusal of books of adventure and travel, to his more mature
and less sanguine elders. When, however, this topic is subjected to
strict and sober investigation, it is found to present elements of
inconsistency, or at anyrate of doubt, which at once tend to modify the
previous and apparently well-founded belief of the inquirer. It is, in
fact, found that the knowledge and use of deadly poisons by savages
have been simply taken for granted, and that most of the stories or
tales of the marvellous effects of wounds inflicted by poisoned weapons
are based upon no kind of reliable evidence. These remarks apply to
the general accounts given of the practice of savages in this respect.
It is well known, however, that in some special instances an accurate
practical knowledge of vegetable poisons is possessed by certain savage
races. Thus the famous Woorali poison, obtained from a plant allied to
that which affords the _Strychnia_ of medicine, is used as a poison by
South American tribes; and the juice of an allied plant (_Strychnos
cogens_) is used to poison arrows in Darien and Panama.
But putting cases of poisoning by matter derived from vegetables
entirely out of the question, it is also a matter of belief that
savages have become possessed of the knowledge that animal matters in a
state of putrefaction or decay, when introduced into the circulation,
are capable of causing serious consequences, or even death itself.
Accordingly certain races were believed to poison their spears and
arrows by dipping them in the putrefying carcase of some animal; the
results of wounding by these weapons being supposed to resemble those
seen familiarly amongst ourselves, in the case of medical men and
others who have accidentally punctured themselves whilst performing
_post-mortem_ examinations or dissections. Here again, however,
elements of discrepancy appear. For the pathologist demands generally
the existence of some special poison, generated by some special
process in the course of putrefaction. In other words, cases of true
blood-poisoning by decomposing animal matter are not of invariable
occurrence after dissection-wounds; and such cases are further subject
to modifying conditions in the patient--such as those of age, state of
health, and susceptibility to the action of the poison.
Some highly interesting and important information on the present
subject has recently been afforded by the inquiries of Staff-surgeon
Messer of the royal navy, into the reputed poisonous qualities and
nature of the arrows of South Sea islanders--a race which, more perhaps
than any other tribe of savages, has been credited with the knowledge
and use of poisoned weapons. Dr Messer had an excellent opportunity of
making investigations into this subject during the visits of H.M.S.
_Pearl_ to the New Hebrides islands, and to the islands of Banks and
Santa Cruz, in the summer of 1875; and as certain cases of wounding
with arrows occurred under Dr Messer's eyes and were treated by him,
his remarks on this subject possess a more than usual interest.
The common belief that savages possess the requisite knowledge and
skill to manipulate and concentrate vegetable poisons, so that these
poisons may prove of effective kind when applied to weapons, and used,
it may be long after the application of the fresh poison, is freely
commented upon in an adverse manner by Dr Messer. He further points
out that savages themselves may firmly believe in the deadly nature
of their weapons, without having any idea of the really innocuous
nature of the substances with which they have smeared them. And great
allowance must also be made for the influence of fear and superstition.
The implicit belief in the poisonous nature of the weapons forms
a point of no mean importance in the consideration of the causes
whereby serious or fatal effects are produced. The 'nervous system
becomes liable,' to use Dr Messer's words, 'to certain diseases on
the slightest provocation;' and once convinced of the deadly nature
of the weapon which has wounded him, the savage--and the civilised
man also--comes to regard a fatal result as inevitable--this result
accruing simply from 'want of moral courage to resist disease.'
The chief element in cases of poisoning which appears to have given
countenance to the reality of the effects of the poison, is the
occurrence of tetanus or lock-jaw after wounds. This disease, familiar
to every medical man, as also resulting from injuries entirely
dissociated from poisoned wounds, is ascribed by the uninitiated and
ignorant to the effects of the poisoned weapons of the savage. And
hence the belief in the potency of the virus becomes more and more
assured. Thus, as is well known, Commodore Goodenough and a party
of men were fired at with arrows at Carlisle Bay in Santa Cruz. The
officer and five men were wounded by arrows, and a second officer had
his hand scratched with the point of an arrow held in the hand of a
native. The wounds in every case were slight. But the ship was ordered
to return to the more temperate climate of Sydney, in order to give
the sufferers the best chance of averting, what Dr Messer feared might
possibly be favoured by the heat of the climate--namely, the occurrence
of tetanus. All went well until the fifth and sixth days after the
reception of the wounds, when the Commodore and two of his men began to
shew symptoms of this disorder, which unfortunately proved fatal to the
three patients within sixty hours.
Now, as Dr Messer proceeds to remark, here were three cases which
might be cited, and which have been referred to as proving the actual
occurrence of poisoning after the wounds of arrows. But the query
which science asks is, whether the symptoms in these cases present
any difference from those in ordinary cases of tetanus, and whether
anything special occurred in their history to indicate the action
of a specific poison? Without entering into particulars, it may be
asserted that these cases, in every detail, presented nothing unusual
or inconsistent with the idea of their being instances of ordinary
tetanus. The occurrence of the disease was favoured--as is well known
to medical men--in the wounded by the mental excitement and fear
consequent on the belief that the arrows had been poisoned. There was,
in fact, an utter absence of all the symptoms of poisoning; and the
tetanus did not occur under any unwonted conditions, but simply under
those which favour its development after injuries of ordinary kind.
Where then, it may be asked, is the evidence of poisoning? To this
query the obvious reply must be that, as regards the reputed poison of
the arrows, no evidence is forthcoming, from the entire history of the
case.
The actual investigation of the arrows of the natives of the South
Pacific islands forms by no means the least interesting part of Dr
Messer's communication. The arrows are generally composed of three
pieces--the shaft made of a light cane, the head composed of hard
wood, and the point or barb formed simply of the sharpened end of the
head, of a sharp bit of bone, of the fin-spine of a fish, or the spine
of a sea-urchin's shell. Specimens obtained from the New Hebrides
measured three feet in length, and weighed about eighty grains; the
points being formed of a piece of human bone of very tapering form,
and ground down to a very fine point. The point was smeared with a
black substance which had dried in separate masses upon the bone. The
arrows which were fired upon Commodore Goodenough and his party at
Carlisle Bay, Santa Cruz, were four feet in length, and had points,
composed of slender and sharp pieces of human bone, about eight inches
in length. The 'poisoned' arrows are carried about in quivers, and are
not only carefully looked after by the natives, but are very difficult
to obtain, presumably on account of the natives being jealous that the
purchasers might become possessed of the knowledge of the poison, which
in their eyes renders the weapons so valuable. The arrows of the Santa
Cruz islanders were not carried as poisoned arrows almost invariably
are, and were readily sold to the crew of the _Pearl_ by the natives.
As far as could be ascertained, the processes adopted by the South
Sea islanders to poison their arrows, consist firstly in the habit of
inserting the weapons in various parts of a decomposing human body; the
neighbourhood of the kidneys being usually preferred for this purpose.
Now, as already remarked, it so happens that physiologists and medical
men are in possession of some very definite information regarding the
manner in which decomposing animal matters act on the human organism.
And on the other hand, there appears to be an utter lack of evidence
obtained from the observation of cases of poisoned-arrow wounds, to
shew that there is any analogy between the symptoms observed in these
cases and those prevailing after blood-poisoning. It is also very
worthy of remark that tetanus--the commonest result of poisoned-arrow
wounds--is not known to be caused by the introduction, within the
system, of decomposing animal matter.
The second mode in which the natives of the South Pacific islands
are believed to render their arrows noxious, is that of smearing
them with some poisonous vegetable matters. It is probable that if
poisoned arrows are really prepared by savages in any way, it is in
this latter mode that they are rendered noxious. But there is an
evident discrepancy between the action of any known vegetable poisons
and the symptoms observed after wounding with the arrows of savages.
Thus woorali acts by paralysing the muscles concerned in breathing.
'Corroval' and 'bao,' two poisons allied to woorali, act by causing
coma or stupor and paralysis of the heart. The effect of the Upas
tree of Java (_Strychnos tiente_) is to produce artificial tetanus;
and strychnia introduced into the blood directly, as by inoculation,
gives rise to marked symptoms, which resemble tetanus--but with this
remarkable and notable distinction, that the tetanic convulsions set
in _immediately_ after the poison has been introduced into the system,
and not after several days of incubation. Thus it is clear, from this
latter fact alone, that strychnia and its allies can hardly represent
the poisons with which the arrows of savages are smeared--admitting
that these weapons are poisonous in any degree.
The historical accounts of cases of wounding by the arrows of savages,
evince a singular want of any distinct or decided evidence to prove
the clearly specific nature of any symptoms observed. Thus Mendaña
in 1595 remarks that the Santa Cruz islanders were believed to use
poisoned arrows, but the Spaniards did not believe the poison to be of
very noxious kind. Burney in the _History of Discoveries in the South
Seas_ makes an observation to the same effect; and as Dr Messer well
remarks, probably no fatal case occurred--with one exception--from
wounding with the arrows, else such a result would have surely been
mentioned. In 1797 Carteret in the _Swallow_ visited Santa Cruz, and
several of his crew were severely wounded by arrows of the usually
reputed and poisonous kind. Three fatal cases occurred, but no mention
is made of the effects being due to poison--a fact which would have
been expected to have been duly chronicled from its interesting, if
also sad, nature. Direct experiments with poisoned arrows are mentioned
in the second volume of Forster's account of Cook's _Voyages_; the
arrows being those of the New Hebrides islanders. A dog was wounded
with the weapons, but no ill effects followed; whilst fishes were not
affected after being wounded with these avowedly poisonous weapons. A
pig wounded in 1827 by a poisoned arrow from the Santa Cruz islands,
exhibited no symptoms whatever; and it is noteworthy to find that in
the attack on Bishop Patteson's party at Santa Cruz in 1864, after
which two deaths from tetanus occurred from wounding by arrows, the
weapons were said _not_ to have been poisoned. Here we find an effect
produced from non-poisoned arrows similar to that observed in the case
of Commodore Goodenough after wounding with weapons reputed to be
poisoned.
Accounts given by missionaries of the probable nature of the poisons
used to render arrows noxious, appear to shew that the natives of
the North New Hebrides and Banks' islands do not themselves attach
importance to the effects of the substance with which the arrows are
poisoned, but seem to regard the innocuous human bone, forming the
point of the weapon, as a powerful agent in producing deleterious
effects. The poisons, according to the evidence of the missionaries,
are derived from vegetables; the plants used in Banks' islands being
'Toe,' a species of Euphorbiaceæ, and 'Loke,' a climbing plant, allied
to Strychnia. The same evidence declares the fact that the usual
effects of wounding with arrows so prepared are inflammation, and
occasionally tetanus; but the important remark is also made that the
natives of the South Pacific are very subject to tetanus 'after wounds
_not_ produced by poisoned arrows,' and that this disorder is also
common among the natives independently of wounding.
Professor Halford of Melbourne University--an authority on
snake-bites--gives evidence to the effect that dogs and pigeons
exhibited no evil effects after being wounded in various ways by
poisoned arrows, obtained from the Solomon Islands, and by the
substances obtained from these weapons.
That Dr Messer's observations on this subject therefore afford good
grounds for believing that many of the reports relating to the deadly
nature of the arrows used by the South Sea islanders are decidedly
erroneous, there can be no reasonable doubt. And that many of the cases
of so-called poisoning are due simply to mental fear and the physical
irritation inducing tetanus, seems also a fair inference. But there
can be no doubt, that at the same time, travellers and missionaries,
by careful observation, might furnish scientific men with secure data
upon which to establish sound conclusions. At present, the entire body
of evidence clearly warrants us in entertaining a negative opinion
regarding firstly the generally poisonous nature of the arrows of
South Sea islanders; and secondly regarding the use by these races of
any active poison derived from decomposing animal matter.
MINDING THE BAIRN.
The little story of 'Rob Graham,' which lately appeared in these pages,
may possibly have aroused some interest concerning the poor but by
no means insufficient manner in which children are reared among the
Scottish peasantry. They get their food regularly, though in a plain
way. They are usually stuffed into holes and corners to sleep. The
older girls take charge of the younger; even the boys are pressed
into this sort of service. All without exception run about barefooted
in summer--not altogether on account of the cost of shoes, but from
preference. Where there are burns to paddle in, and waters to cross,
shoes and stockings would only be an encumbrance.
A farm establishment in Scotland is familiarly known by the Anglo-Saxon
term, the _toun_. It is so called by the workers on the farm. Embraced
in the toun, though situated perhaps at a hundred yards distant, is
a row of cottages with little gardens behind them. These are the
quarters of the hinds or ploughmen and their families. Ordinarily,
there are dwellings for five or six hinds, besides one for the grieve
or overseer. Latterly, the condition of the hinds--at least in the
southern counties--has been greatly improved. They are each allowed so
much oatmeal per annum; and perhaps a cow, which is allowed to graze
with the cows of the farmer. There is an allowance of a rig or two of
potatoes. A pig may be kept. The farmer engages to give the use of a
horse and cart to drive a certain quantity of coals. Besides these
indispensable allowances, there is a wage paid in money. The total
value may be estimated at from fifty to sixty pounds a year. That does
not seem a large income, but the outgoings are small--very different
from what they are among artisans in large towns, where everything
has to be bought and paid for. There is the house free of rent; the
oatmeal for the porridge; milk from the cow in abundance; potatoes
for the lifting and storing; coal driven to the very door; vegetables
from the garden; fresh and pure water from the mountain rill; hams
of the last year's pig dangling from the ceiling. For all this there
is doubtless pretty hard labour in the field and barn; yet there are
many assuagements. The labour is regular and healthful. Nothing is
paid for seats in the parish church; the minister exacts no fees for
baptisms; the children are educated for a trifle in the nearest school;
even before the late access of educational power, there was no want
of schooling, nor was there any disinclination to make use of it. We
do not remember ever visiting the house of a Scottish peasant and not
seeing books--very frequently a large family Bible--and that is saying
a good deal.
For anything like thrift and comfort, there is of course a dependence
on the wife. She has no servants to assist her. She could not pay for
help. She is wife, house-servant, and cook all in one. Woe be to the
hind who marries a slattern, one who likes finery and has a taste for
delicacies! This, however, rarely occurs. We can say that within our
observation the hinds' wives are thrifty and industrious, making the
best of matters within their sphere. To use a common phrase, they soon
'fall into a family.' Then arise new duties to be encountered. We
have often been filled with wonder how they at all manage to conduct
their multifarious affairs. Not only the house to look after, but a
crowd of children. It is a blessed thing for them that there is the
open air, with the slip of green before the door, to which all the
youngsters at times may be bundled, and where they rollick and tumble
about, strengthening their legs and arms, and bringing their lungs into
splendid exercise. Without a particle of scientific knowledge, the
_clachan_ generally is by intuition kept in excellent health.
The hind's wife, in looking forward to a family, is hopeful that
her first-born may be a female. The hope is quite natural. In high
life, where it is important to have a male heir to an estate, it is
anxiously hoped that the first will be a boy; and when he makes his
appearance, the bonfires are set ablazing. Among the cottagers we are
talking about, there is no heritage but toil. The poor wife, foreseeing
what may be her fate--a 'heavy handful' of children--piously wishes
that she may be provided with a girl, who will grow up to help her in
her interminable round of duties. Heaven has heard and answered her
prayer. A baby girl is placed in the loving arms of her mother. We
need not be surprised that the infancy of this eldest daughter, as
conventionally considered, is curtailed in order that she may qualify
for the position of nurse to her brothers and sisters. As early as
her sixth year, she has not only to superintend the amusements of
those next to her in seniority, but to undertake the sole charge of
the baby while the parent is otherwise necessarily employed. And it
is marvellous how aptly a child so placed will assume the air of
responsibility, and evince the tact and solicitude of maternity! When
children better circumstanced are yet devoted to the interests of their
dolls, she is seated at the cottage-door, or on the green bank amongst
the daisies, singing to her little human charge, or with matronly
pride twining chaplets of the simple flowers for its adornment. Her
engrossment would be perfect, but that she has occasionally to cast
her eye in the direction of the burn to see that Johnnie, aged four,
has not ventured too close to its margin; or to look that Bessie, in
the innocence of her two and a half years, does not pull the tail of
the faithful but cross-grained old collie which snoozes on the grass
beside them. Returned home with her charges as gloaming falls, the
baby is transferred to its mother; but the little maid's anxieties are
not yet ended. She assists Johnnie and Bessie to their suppers, and
then, amid pleasant reminiscences of the day's simple events, undresses
them for bed. In virtue of her position in the household, she herself
is permitted to sit up an hour or two later, and is rewarded for her
good behaviour by being permitted for a short time to nurse baby in
its night-clothes. Thus the first-born girl grows up to womanhood--her
mother's right hand and the friend-in-council to each and all of her
nurslings.
Where the elder children are boys, the less fortunate mother has to
do her best with the material at her disposal--that is, invest one
or other of her manikins with the rôle of nurse. The character is
not so natural, nor can the experiment, we are afraid, be considered
an invariable success; and yet we have known boys with strong innate
love for children, whose skill and devotedness in nursing would put
to shame many a woman of average maternal instinct. But however that
may be, the young rustic rarely escapes altogether what to many of
them is at times the irksome task of 'minding the bairn,' although, on
the score of his incipient manhood, he may the earlier transfer the
service to his juniors. At one stage or other of his boyhood, if his
supply of sisters is limited, he is liable to be called from his hoop
or marbles, or to forego his projected bird-nesting, in order to rock
the cradle or dandle the baby while mother washes up the house or gets
ready father's dinner. Even the youngest of the family does not always
succeed in evading the doom of his elders; for one or other of these
having married young and settled down in the neighbourhood, has of
course defied all that philosophy has said or might have to say on the
subject, and straightway added to the population; so that nothing is
more natural than that the immature uncle or aunt should be wheedled or
coerced into tending their still tenderer relatives until one of them
shall have developed sufficiently to assume the hereditary duties of
its position.
A curious reversion of this case is when the grandchildren are called
upon to 'mind' their uncles or aunts--a by no means inconceivable
circumstance, when the frequency of early marriages among the poor
is considered. We remember some years ago, while on a visit in
Forfarshire, that this very subject was broached by our hostess, who,
as faithful helpmate of the minister, was herself mother-in-chief to
the parish. She told us of a poor woman who had had a great number
of children, all of whom had died young except one, a girl, who had
married early, but who also died, in giving birth to an infant son.
The infant was taken care of by the bereaved grandmother, who was
still in the prime of life, and who had herself, after the adoption of
her grandson, other two children, one of which survived, a fine boy
of fifteen months old. At our friend's invitation we visited with her
the humble cottage where this singular combination of relationships
existed. The mistress was busy churning as we entered, while seated by
the fire was the grandson, some eight or nine years of age, engrossed
in the task of amusing the baby. After greeting the good dame in homely
kindly manner, the minister's wife turned to the children and asked:
'How are you to-day, Jockie?'
'Fine,' answered the little fellow bashfully.
'And how is your uncle?' continued his questioner with a merry twinkle
in her eye and a significant glance at us.
'Ou, he's fu' weel; only gey girnie whiles wi' his back-teeth,' glibly
answered the urchin, throwing aside his shyness when his precious
charge had become the subject.
'Dear me, Jockie,' laughed my friend, 'you will have some trouble with
him then?'
'Whiles,' soberly said the boy, who, although conscious that the
question was meant for banter, seemed unable to restrain himself on a
matter evidently near his heart. 'He disna sleep weel, an' I'm obliged
to sit up at nicht an' whussle till him; but he's guid, puir mannie,
when the fashious teeth are no troublin' him.'
We were much affected by the artless affection which Jockie displayed
towards his uncle; and learned recently with pleasure that he had,
through the minister's good services, been appointed pupil-teacher in
what was formerly the parish school; and that his nursling, hardier
than the rest of the family, was acquiring his first knowledge under
his nephew's affectionate tuition.
Without pleading ignorance of the evils frequently attendant on the
practice of intrusting children with the care of infants, we prefer
simply to accept it as inevitable, and to contemplate the advantages
with which it is as undoubtedly accompanied. In the first place, it
is this early discipline, this facing of the harder realities in
their lot from the outset, which could alone prepare those in the
humbler walks of life to tolerate the position in which their maturer
years will have to be spent. The girl whom necessity has taught the
rudiments of housewifery simultaneously with her alphabet, and the
mysteries of nursing together with the secret of making pot-hooks and
hangers, will blend most naturally and easily into the mistress of a
poor man's home, where the anxieties and solicitudes common to women
are indefinitely multiplied. If not so palpable, the value to boys of
the knowledge of simple household duties is after all scarcely less
important; for aptitude in these is perhaps the most efficacious weapon
with which he can enter the lists of a determinately arduous life. In
their acquirement the future workman has been taught self-reliance and
the habit of industry--qualities on which his success mainly depends;
while he is specifically prepared for the not uncommon eventuality--as
soldier, sailor, or emigrant, or even in the ordinary casualties of
married life in his own sphere--of having to minister to the physical
wants of himself and others. Nor in the last of these situations will
his juvenile experience of 'minding the bairn' be without its useful
application; for at meal-times, in his evenings off work, and even in
the night-watches, he will be called upon to accept his share in those
solemn rites which his domestic felicity has entailed.
There is a reflection too of a far higher character to which the
consideration of this simple theme not inaptly gives rise. Solicitude
for the welfare of those whom they have cared for and protected remains
with the elder brothers and sisters in greater or less force throughout
life; and the younger members of the family can never wholly divest
themselves of the confidence and respect which such services have
engendered. Each unit in the tale of the poor man's family thus stands
to the other not merely in the fraternal, but, in varying degrees, also
in the filial relation. Hence that wonderful tenacity of kindredship by
which they are distinguished. Diverging careers, conflicting interests,
petty jealousies, and even animosities, may temporarily step in to
arrest the current of their affection; but the advent of calamity or
sorrow to one or other is a signal which rarely fails to reunite them
in bonds stronger than ever. Is not blood, after all, thicker than
water, in their own idiomatic phrase? The successful digger or colonial
shepherd needs nothing more transcendental than the memory of the
humble home in which all were mutually dependent, to send his tenderest
thoughts wandering across the ocean which divides him from his
playmates and friends. Wherever their various lots may be cast, there
is to the end a common haunt in which their loving spirits may meet, in
the 'auld clay biggin' or 'humble cot' where each in his turn performed
his part in 'minding the bairn.'
The family affections are, moreover, the pith and marrow of patriotism;
and who will venture to estimate the degree in which a nation's
stability is dependent upon the primitive economy of the poor man's
household? It is only by association with the loves and sorrows and
joys of his childhood that the external surroundings of his home
become endeared to the heart of man. How naturally Burns arises, in
his _Cotter's Saturday Night_, from the more immediate reflections
which the happiness of his humble characters suggests, to that eloquent
exclamation in praise of his native land, beginning,
From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs.
CAPTURING OSTRICHES.
The greatest feat of an Arab hunter is to capture an ostrich. Being
very shy and cautious, and living on the sandy plains, where there
is little chance to take it by surprise, it can be captured only by
a well-planned and long-continued pursuit on the swiftest horse. The
ostrich has two curious habits in running when alarmed. It always
starts with outspread wings against the wind, so that it can scent
the approach of an enemy. Its sense of smell is so keen that it can
detect a person a great distance long before he can be seen. The other
curious habit is that of running in a circle. Usually five or six
ostriches are found in company. When discovered, part of the hunters,
mounted on fleet horses, will pursue the birds, while the other hunters
will gallop away at right angles to the course the ostriches have
taken. When these hunters think they have gone far enough to cross
the path the birds will be likely to take, they watch upon some rise
of ground for their approach. If the hunters hit the right place and
see the ostriches, they at once start in pursuit with fresh horses,
and sometimes they overtake one or two of the birds; but often one or
two of the fleet horses fall, completely tired out with so sharp a
chase.--_Newspaper paragraph._
SONNET.
Oft let me wander hand-in-hand with Thought
In woodland paths and lone sequestered shades,
What time the sunny banks and mossy glades,
With dewy wreaths of early violets wrought,
Into the air their fragrant incense fling,
To greet the triumph of the youthful Spring.
Lo, where she comes! 'scaped from the icy lair
Of hoary Winter; wanton, free, and fair!
Now smile the heavens again upon the earth;
Bright hill and bosky dell resound with mirth;
And voices full of laughter and wild glee
Shout through the air pregnant with harmony,
And wake poor sobbing Echo, who replies
With sleeping voice, that softly, slowly dies.
* * * * *
Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
* * * * *
_All Rights Reserved._