be spared to him, he made himself, as he protested, extremely
comfortable; and that all might be as merry as possible, started a
musical entertainment by favouring the company with _Auld Langsyne_.
His jollity was contagious. There was a succession of songs. When these
had been concluded with a ‘fore-bitter’ of formidable length on the
death of Lord Nelson by a seaman of H.M.S. _Nelson_ gifted with a fine
voice, the natives were invited to take up the singing. They complied
without much hesitation. They sang in a low and rather plaintive tone,
with a curious deep _tremolo_ uttered from time to time in unison. At
length, as some began to grow sleepy, Mr Chalmers asked for silence, so
that the teacher Biga might be able to conduct the evening devotions.
This he did in an extempore prayer, attentively followed by the
natives, and, if not understood, at all events reverently listened to,
by the white men. To one at least of the latter, sleep was impossible.
Fatigue must be indeed overwhelming which will enable one to slumber
when, in the midst of the only available sleeping-place, a point of
rock is so situated that it almost forces a passage between the ribs.
Luckily, there were no mosquitoes or other voracious insects. But
there was an unpleasant many-legged black slug four or five inches
long which evinced an unconquerable predilection for crawling over the
naked human body. It was far from pleasant to find this animal just
effecting a passage between the neckband of the shirt and the skin,
or trying to coil itself round the ear of the side which happened to
be uppermost. A careful member of our party, before lying down, had
stretched a line between two trees, and on it had hung his wet clothes.
Looking about him in the night, he discovered that the clothes had
disappeared, and his announcement of this discovery elicited from a
companion the intelligence that the natives were wearing them. This
statement, so to speak, brought down the house. The natives heartily
joined in the hilarious applause with which it was received. The
same reception was extended to occasional ejaculations from other
companions of the bivouac, such as, ‘By Jove! there’s a native with
my shirt on!’ Subsequent reflections convinced the owners that it was
fortunate that the temporary borrowing of their clothes by their native
friends had been looked upon as part of the fun of the excursion. Had
any one been so ill-conditioned as to maltreat or scold the merry,
intelligent carriers, they would, almost to a certainty, have stolen
away in the night, and have left the white men to get themselves and
their things home as best they could. One native gentleman displayed
so much ingenuity in the mode of wearing one of the more unmentionable
garments, which he somehow or other succeeded in converting into a kind
of sleeved waistcoat, that the appreciative owner made him a present of
it. The new possessor had a proper pride in this acquisition, and wore
it in his village after the descent; indeed, he had the honour of being
introduced to the commodore whilst clad in it.
‘Ta-ma-té,’ who, with universal assent, had established a genial
despotism over the bivouac, issued a decree that every one should
make a joke, and that the joke adjudged the best should be sent to a
newspaper for publication. Either this was trying the loyalty of his
contented subjects too severely, or the labour of incubating jokes
was too great for wearied mountaineers, for, after one or two feeble
endeavours to comply with his edict, a general silence fell upon the
company.
In the morning, after a not absolutely perfect night’s rest, deficiency
of water rendered abstaining from even an attempt at breakfast
compulsory. There was little, therefore, to delay the ceremony of
hoisting the union-jack—providently brought for the purpose by
Lieutenant Fenton—upon the newly crowned summit. A suitable tree was
cut down and lopped; the flag was secured to it; and a hole having been
dug in which to insert it, the flagstaff was reared amidst a very good
imitation of three cheers from the natives, and the real thing from
the white men. The descent then began; and much of it was effected by
a different route from that of the ascent. Orchids, ferns, and other
plants were collected on the way. Sore hands, barked shins, added to
want of sleep and to a long fast, made the descent seem to some even
more fatiguing than the climb of the day before. The interval before
water was reached appeared excessive, and before a halt could be made
for breakfast, interminable. By two P.M. the travellers were back on
board their ships, proud of the distinction of being the first to
ascend a mountain summit in Eastern New Guinea.
TREASURE TROVE.
A STORY IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAP. IV.
Upon Jasper Rodley’s entrance into the house, Bertha had retired to
her own room, pleading that she was suffering from the excitement,
the fatigue, and the exposure she had undergone; but she could hear
a conversation kept up in the dining-room until a late hour, and
instinctively felt that Rodley had not come again without a reason.
To her surprise, the next morning she found that both her father and
his visitor were already downstairs, Jasper Rodley looking out of the
window and whistling to himself, the captain with evident agitation
marked on his movements and face.
‘Bertha,’ he said, without even giving her the usual morning greeting,
‘Mr Rodley has come here especially to say that from information he has
received, it will be necessary for you at once to decide what course
you intend to adopt. There is a chance, he says, that the great evil
hanging over our heads may be averted, but it depends upon your answer.’
‘Mr Rodley must give me until this evening to think over the matter.
I am going into Saint Quinians, if possible to see Harry—that is, Mr
Symonds, for even Mr Rodley will admit that plighted troths are not to
be broken in this abrupt manner. I shall be home before dark.’
‘Then I will see you on your road,’ said Rodley, ‘as I am going into
the town.’
‘You need not trouble,’ said Bertha. ‘The road is quite familiar to me,
and I have no fear of being molested.’ Then, without waiting to hear
whether Jasper Rodley objected or not to the arrangement, she left the
house.
In exactly an hour’s time, she walked into the town. At the old gate
she was confronted by rather a pretty girl, who laid a hand gently on
her arm, and said: ‘You are Miss West, I believe?’
Bertha replied in the affirmative.
‘You are in an unhappy and terrible position, and you have very little
time to spare, I think?’ added the girl.
Bertha looked at her wonderingly, for she could not recall ever having
seen her before.
‘I mean,’ explained the girl, who observed that Bertha was surprised at
this acquaintance on the part of a stranger with her affairs—‘I mean
with regard to that man, Jasper Rodley.—Yes, I know all about it; and I
want, not only to be your friend, but to see that evil-doing meets with
its just reward.’
The girl was poorly dressed; but her accent and mode of expression
were those of an educated woman, and, moreover, she had such a thin,
sorrow-lined face, that Bertha felt she could trust her.
‘Let me be with you to-day,’ continued the girl, ‘and you may thank me
for it some day. I have long wanted to see you, and have waited here
for you often. Never mind who I am—that you shall find out later.’
‘Very well,’ said Bertha, who naturally clung to the friendship of one
of her own sex. ‘I am going to see Mr Symonds—my betrothed.’
‘The gentleman who was obliged to leave Faraday’s Bank, four years ago;
yes, I remember,’ said the girl.
They crossed the market-place together, and were soon at Harry Symonds’
lodgings. The servant, in reply to Bertha’s inquiries, said that the
young man was so far recovered as to be able to sit up, but that the
doctor had ordered him to keep perfectly quiet and to be free from all
excitement. So Bertha wrote him a note describing all that had taken
place, and begging for an immediate answer. In the course of twenty
minutes, the servant handed her a piece of paper, on which was scrawled
as follows:
MY DEAREST LOVE—This is written with my left hand, as my right is
yet in a sling. I wish I could say all that I want to; but as every
moment is of value to you, I will simply keep to business. Take a
postchaise home; get the money out of the cavern, and send it here.
John Sargent the fisherman is to be trusted; let him come back with
it in the postchaise. I will return it to the bank, making up out
of my savings whatever difference there is from the original amount
stolen. Lose no time, my darling, and God bless you!—Ever your
affectionate
HARRY.
Bertha and the girl hurried away; and just as they entered the _Dolphin
Inn_ to order the chaise, they espied Jasper Rodley entering the town
watchhouse, the local headquarters of the civil force which in those
days performed, or rather was supposed to perform, the duties of our
modern constabulary.
‘Miss West,’ said the girl, ‘I had better remain in the town for the
present. At what hour to-day is Jasper Rodley coming to your house?’
‘I said I would be home by dark. He will be there before then, to
receive my final answer.’
‘Very well, then; I will be there about that time,’ continued the girl.
‘Will you not even tell me your name?’ asked Bertha.
‘Yes. My name is Patience Crowell. Till to-night, good-bye. Keep up
your spirits; all will end well.’
In a few minutes the postchaise was ready, and in order to escape the
notice of Jasper Rodley, was driven round to the town gate, where
Bertha jumped in. She stopped at John Sargent’s cottage, and mentioned
her errand.
‘Why,’ said the old fisherman, ‘I’m too glad to do anythin’ for Master
Symonds. He saved my life once at Saint Quinians’ jetty, and I’ve never
had no chance of doin’ suthin’ for him in return like.—Come along,
miss; if it’s to the end of the world, come along!’
As Jasper Rodley might pass by at any moment, Bertha thought it best to
keep the chaise out of sight, whilst she and the fisherman, provided
with a large net-basket, proceeded to the cliffs. In half an hour’s
time the bags of coin were safely stowed away in the postchaise; John
Sargent jumped in, the chaise rattled off; and Bertha, with a light
heart and a heightened colour, returned home.
The captain was stumping up and down the little gravelled space in his
garden, which from the presence there of half-a-dozen old cannon and
a flagstaff, he delighted to call the Battery. When he beheld Bertha,
he welcomed her with a sad smile, and putting her arm in his, said:
‘Bertha, lass, I’ve been thinking over this business ever since you
went away this morning, and the more I’ve thought about it, the more
I’ve called myself a mean, cowardly, selfish old fool.’
‘Why, father?’
‘Because, look here. I’ve been telling you to make yourself miserable
for life by marrying a man you despise and dislike, just so that I may
get off the punishment that’s due to me. I’m an old man, and in the
ordinary course of things, I can’t have many years before me. You’re a
girl with all your life before you, and yet I’m wicked enough to tell
you to give up all your long life so that my few years shouldn’t be
disturbed.’
‘But father’—— began Bertha.
‘Let me speak!’ interposed the old man. ‘I’ve been doing a wicked thing
all these four years; but I know what’s right. When this man asks you
to be his wife to-night, you say “No;” mind, you say “No.” If you
don’t, I will; and you won’t marry without my permission.’
‘Dear father, you leave it to me. I do not promise anything except that
by no act of mine shall one hair of your head be touched.—Let us talk
of other things, for Jasper Rodley will be here soon.’
So they walked up and down until the sun began to sink behind the hills
inland and the air grew chilly. They had scarcely got into the house,
when Jasper Rodley appeared. He bowed formally to Bertha, and offered
his hand to the captain, which was declined. ‘Miss West,’ he said,
‘I think I have given you fair time for decision. I have not been so
exacting as circumstances justified.’
Bertha said nothing in reply, but sat in a chair by the window, and
looked out on the sea as if nothing unusual was taking place.
So Jasper Rodley continued: ‘I will speak then at once, and to the
point. Miss West, will you accept me for your husband?’
‘No, I will not,’ replied Bertha, in a low, firm voice.
Mr Rodley was evidently unprepared for this, and looked at her with
open mouth. ‘That is your final answer?’ he asked, after a pause. ‘You
are prepared to see your father, whom you love so dearly, taken from
here in custody to be brought up as a common felon?’
‘Yes. That is, Mr Rodley, if you can prove anything against him. Of
what do you accuse him?’
‘I accuse him of having lived during the past four years upon money
which was not his, but which was stolen from Faraday’s Bank in Saint
Quinians, which was taken off in a vessel called the _Fancy Lass_, the
said vessel being wrecked off this coast.’
‘Very well,’ continued Bertha. ‘What is your proof that he knows
anything about this money?’
‘One moment before I answer that. You refuse to marry me if I can bring
no proof. You will marry me if I do?’
‘Show me the proof first,’ answered Bertha.
‘You must follow me, then.’
‘Not alone.—Father, you must come with me.’
So the trio proceeded out into the dusk, and, conducted by Jasper
Rodley, followed the path leading to the cliffs. Bertha observed that
they were followed at a little distance by a man closely enveloped
in a long coat, and as they ascended the ledge of rock communicating
with the shore, noticed two other figures—those of a man and a
woman—watching them.
‘It’s a very nice little hiding-place,’ remarked Rodley, when they
arrived at the bushes—‘a very nice little hiding-place, and it seems
almost a pity to make it public property; but a proof is demanded,
and sentimental feelings must give way.’ He smiled as he said this,
and kicked the bush aside with his feet, thus uncovering the cavern
entrance. They entered the hole, which was now quite dark; but Rodley
had come prepared, and struck a light. He then rolled away the stone,
and without looking himself, gave Bertha the light and bade her satisfy
her doubts.
‘There is nothing here,’ she said.
‘Nothing!’ exclaimed Rodley, taking the light from her hand and
examining the cavity. ‘Why!—Gracious powers! no more there is! There
has been robbery! Some one has been here and has sacked the bank!’ His
face was positively ghastly in the weird light as he said this, and
under his breath he continued a fire of horrible execrations.
‘Well, Mr Rodley,’ said Bertha, smiling, ‘and the proof?’
Rodley did not answer, but moved as if to leave the cavern, when a
woman’s figure confronted him at the entrance, and a ringing voice
said: ‘Proof! No! He has no proof!’
Rodley staggered back with a cry of rage and surprise. ‘Patience!
Why—how have you got here? I left you at Yarmouth!—Ha! I see it all
now!’
‘Yes,’ cried the girl, ‘of course you do. I gave you fair warning, when
I found out that you were beginning to forsake me for another; but not
until after I had begged and entreated you, with tears in my eyes, to
remember the solemn protestations of love you had made me, and the
solemn troth which we had plighted together.’
‘Let me go!’ roared Rodley; ‘you’re mad!’
‘No, no—not so fast!’ cried the girl. She made a signal to some one
without, and a man entered.
‘Jasper Rodley,’ continued Patience, ‘this constable has a warrant for
your apprehension on the charge of having been concerned in the bank
robbery four years ago.—Yes, you may look fiercely at me. I swore that
the secret in my keeping should never be divulged. I loved you so
much, that I was ready even to marry a thief. But as you have broken
your faith with me, I consider myself free of all obligations.—Captain
West, it was this man who planned the robbery, who had the coin
conveyed to his boat, the _Fancy Lass_, and who alone was saved from
the wreck.’
Rodley made a desperate rush for the cave entrance; but the constable
held him fast, and took him off.
‘There, Miss West!’ cried the girl; ‘I have done my duty, and I have
satisfied my revenge. My mission is accomplished. Good-bye, and all
happiness be with you.’ And before Bertha could stop her, she had
disappeared.
Jasper Rodley was convicted on the charge of robbery, and received a
heavy sentence, which he did not live to fulfil. Harry Symonds paid in
to the bank the entire sum stolen, the authorities of which offered him
immediately the position of manager, which he declined. He and Bertha
were married shortly afterwards; but they could not induce the old
captain to move to the house they had taken, for he could not get over
the shame of the exposure, and declared that he was only fit for the
hermit life he had chosen; but no one outside the little circle ever
knew that he had been indirectly concerned in the robbery; and neither
Harry nor Bertha alluded to it after.
Of Patience Crowell, who had so opportunely appeared on the scene,
nothing was ever known.
THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.
Dr Gustav Jaeger, whose sanitary clothing reform made some little stir
a year or two back, seeks to apply the principle involved in his theory
to furniture. This theory teaches that cotton, linen, and other stuffs
of vegetable origin retain a power of absorbing those noxious animal
exhalations which as plants they digest. Dead fibre, or wood, will, he
maintains, act in the same manner, and will throw off the deleterious
matter, to the prejudice of living beings, whenever there is a change
of temperature. This, he holds, is the reason why a room which has been
shut up for some days has an unpleasant odour attaching to it, and
which is very apparent in German government offices, which are fitted
with innumerable shelves and pigeon-holes made of plain unpainted wood.
For sanitary reasons, therefore, the back and unseen parts of furniture
should be varnished, painted, or treated with some kind of composition,
to fill the pores of the wood; hence it is that so-called sanitary
furniture has in Germany become an article of commerce, and is likely
to find its way to this and other countries.
Such large quantities of ice are now made by various artificial
processes, that ice is no longer a luxury which can only be procured
by the rich, but is an article of commerce which can be purchased at a
very low price in all large towns in the kingdom. It is not generally
known that the artificial product is far purer than natural ice, but
such, according to M. Bischoff of Berlin, who has made a scientific
analysis of specimens, is the case.
All honest persons rejoice greatly when a notorious evil-doer is run
to earth, and much the same satisfaction is experienced when science
points with unerring finger to the source of disease, for then the
first step has been taken in its eradication. Many, therefore, will
rejoice when they read the recently issued Report of Mr W. H. Power,
the Inspector of the Local Government Board, concerning an epidemic
of scarlatina which occurred in London last year. The story is most
interesting, but too long to quote in full. Suffice it to say that the
disease in question has, after the most painstaking inquiries, been
traced to the milk given by certain cows which were affected with a
skin disease showing itself in the region of the teats and udders. We
know to our cost that certain diseases can be transferred from the
lower animals to man. ‘Woolsorters’ disease’ is traced to the same
germ which produces splenic fever in cattle and sheep, a malady which
has been so ably dealt with by M. Pasteur. The terrible glanders in
horses is transferable to man. Jenner was led to the splendid discovery
of vaccination from observing the effects of cowpox on milkmaids; and
now we have scarlatina traced directly to the cowhouse. Dr Klein, the
famous pathologist, has been engaged to report upon this new revelation
concerning milk, and we may reasonably hope that his researches will
bear fruitful results.
A new method of etching on glass has been devised. The ink is of a
waxy composition, and requires to be heated to render it fluid. It is
applied to the glass with a special form of pen, which can be kept in
a hot condition by a gas or electrical attachment. When the drawing is
complete, the plate is etched by fluoric acid, which of course only
attacks and dissolves those portions not covered by the protective ink.
The result is a drawing in raised lines, which can be made to furnish
an electrotype, or can, if required, be used direct as a block to print
from.
Springs in mid-ocean are not unknown, and, if we remember rightly,
there is more than one of the kind at which ships have endeavoured to
renew their stores of fresh water. But an ocean oil-well is certainly
a rarity. The captain of a British schooner reports that in March
last, while bound for New Orleans, his vessel passed over a submarine
spring of petroleum, which bubbled up all round the ship, and extended
over the surface of the sea for some hundred yards. It seems to be
a moot-point whether this phenomenon is a mere freak of nature, or
whether it is caused by the sunken cargo of some ill-fated oil-ship.
In the latter case, the gradual leakage of casks would account for the
strange appearance.
Inventors of gas apparatus should note that the municipal authorities
of Brussels have decided upon holding a competition, with a view to
ascertain the best means of using gas for heating and cooking purposes.
A large sum is to be offered in prizes to the successful competitors.
Apparatus for trial must be forwarded not later than September next,
and all particulars regarding the matter may be obtained from the chief
engineer, M. Wybauw, Rue de l’Etuve, Brussels.
In the island of Skye, large deposits of the very useful mineral
called diatomite have recently been found. Under the German name of
_kieselguhr_, this absorbent earth has been extensively used in the
manufacture of dynamite, which consists of nitro-glycerine rendered
more safe for handling by admixture with this porous body. It is
also used as a non-conducting compound for coating the exterior of
steam-pipes and boilers, as a siliceous glaze for pottery, for the
manufacture of silicate paints, and for many minor purposes. In this
particular deposit the varieties of diatoms are singularly few,
only sixteen species of these wonderful microscopic organisms being
represented. The deposit is estimated to yield a total of between one
and two hundred tons.
At a recent meeting of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, Dr A. B.
Griffiths read a most instructive paper on ‘The Effect of Ferrous
Sulphate in destroying the Spores of Parasitic Fungi.’ The value of
this salt—the common ‘green vitriol’ of commerce—as a plant-food has
long ago been established; but Dr Griffiths points out the important
antiseptic property it possesses in destroying certain low forms of
plant-life. As a preventive of potato disease, it is most effectual,
although the spores of that fungus possess such vitality that they
may be kept as dry dust for eight months without losing their power
for mischief. Dr Griffiths also notes that in damp warm weather, the
potato disease is actually encouraged by the use of potash manures.
He advocates the treatment of manure with a weak solution of the iron
salt before its application to the land. Wheat when treated with the
sulphate is rendered proof against mildew.