[Illustration:
CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART
Fifth Series
ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)
NO. 12.—VOL. I. SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1884. PRICE 1½_d._]
THE TRANSVAAL GOLD-FIELDS.
BY ONE ON THE SPOT.
The gold-fields of the Transvaal, which have been heard of by fits
and starts during the last twelve years, have of late begun to excite
considerable attention both at home and in South Africa; and as the
future of the Transvaal, and indeed a great portion of South-eastern
Africa, depends very much on their proper development, a short
description of the gold-bearing region may prove interesting to readers
of this _Journal_.
Gold has been found scattered over a considerable extent of country
here, and indeed is known to extend up to the Zambesi; but the part
most frequented by the gold-seeker is a belt of country running
almost north and south, commencing on the Kaap River, a few miles
east of the village of Middleburg, in the Transvaal, and terminating
about ten miles north of Pilgrim’s Rest, in the Lydenburg district.
The principal ‘farms’ on which gold has been found in the Lydenburg
district are Pilgrim’s Rest, Berlin, Lisbon, Graskop, Mac-Mac,
Spitzkop, Elandsdrift, and Hendriksdal—these so-called ‘farms’ being
merely tracts of ground surveyed, but in scarcely any case used for
actual farming purposes. There are numerous other ‘farms’ on which
gold has been found; but the above-named have, up to the present time,
produced the largest quantity. From the Kaap River gold-fields, about
fifty miles from Lydenburg, a considerable quantity of gold has also
been extracted, partly on unallotted government ground, and partly
from the ‘farms’ of private owners; but this district has not been so
extensively worked of late, owing to its unhealthiness in the lower
reaches of the river, and also to the difficulty of working in such a
broken country.
At the present time, comparatively little work is being carried on in
either of the above districts, from causes which will be explained
presently; but that gold exists in considerable quantities, there is
not the shadow of a doubt, as the returns of banks and merchants
for native gold purchased can show; and although no capitalists
have until recently made their appearance on the gold-fields, yet
several exceptionally lucky diggers who came here with nothing beyond
experience and stout hearts, have realised a competence, in spite of
the disadvantages and troubles which such a rough life implies.
All the gold hitherto found, with very few exceptions, has been of the
kind known as alluvial—that is, existing in the ground, and capable
of being extracted by means of water alone, without the intervention
of machinery; but at present there are two Companies with machinery
starting work-crushing quartz, the returns from which are looked
forward to with much interest, as it will then be seen whether it will
pay to import machinery on a large scale or not. When the gold-bearing
ground lies at a comparatively low level, enabling water from any of
the numerous streams running through the country to be brought on it,
the process of gold-washing is very simple, the ground being merely
picked loose and thrown into the water, or washed away by the water,
which is then conducted through a long box, or race, about eighteen
inches in width and depth, open on top, and paved with hard rock or
quartz on the bottom, falling gradually for a distance of from twenty
to two hundred feet in length, according to the strength of the stream
running through the ground, and the quantity of ground washed per
day. Once or twice a day the water is turned off from this race and a
small stream of clean water run through it; the race is then carefully
examined from end to end; and any nuggets or particles of gold which,
by the action of the water and their greater specific gravity, may have
been deposited in the ripples or inequalities of the bottom-paving,
are then picked up, and the work resumed. In cases where the gold is
of a fine nature, and liable to be carried away if the race alone were
used, the coarser stones are sifted from the ground, and the combined
ground and water run over coarse blankets, which, from the nature of
their texture, catch all the fine particles of gold and allow the
lighter soil to flow away. These blankets are periodically washed out;
and the fine particles of gold resulting are combined with quicksilver,
which, from its affinity to gold, brings the whole into one mass, which
is then placed in a retort, and the quicksilver evaporated off and
recaught for future use, leaving the gold in a solid mass behind.
The above process, costing very little in the way of outlay, has been
of necessity almost the only one adopted by the diggers, who for the
most part have been working-men, with little or no money; and in
cases where the alluvial ground has lain so high above the level of
the rivers as to prevent it being worked in the same way, the only
difference has been that the ground has had to be excavated and brought
to the water-race by carting or otherwise, the process of washing
being the same. But in the case of quartz containing gold, the quartz
has to be reduced almost to a powder in water by means of machinery;
the crushed quartz then flows over plates coated with quicksilver,
which catch the greater part of the gold; and that which escapes the
quicksilver is caught by means of the blankets before mentioned, which
receive it after passing the silvered plates.
It has struck many people who are acquainted with gold-mining in both
Australia and California, that in no two places in the Transvaal are
the indications of gold the same. In one place it is in vain to look
for it except on the top of a hill; in another, the valley alone will
yield gold; and not a few geologists and so-called mining experts who
have visited the gold-fields lately, for the purpose of reporting
on properties for intending purchasers, have been much at fault
regarding the possibility of finding payable gold, and confessed that
it is necessary to spend a considerable time before a property can
be even cursorily examined. In most cases, it seems that the diggers
themselves, through their actual experience, are better acquainted
with the payable and non-payable ground than any stranger, however
experienced otherwise, can be.
From 1873, the gold-laws of the Transvaal permitted a digger to take
out a license for a claim on any gold-bearing property held to be the
property of the government, and the digger paying the amount of this
license for his right to dig for gold. When a claim was exhausted or
found not payable, the digger was at liberty to abandon it and mark out
another, in the event of this other not being occupied. This law, in a
sparsely populated country, where scarcely any agriculture was carried
on, worked very well and harmoniously; but on the retrocession of the
Transvaal by the British government, a new order of things sprang into
existence. In order to increase the revenue—which fell rapidly off on
the departure of the British government, and has in consequence caused
a widespread distress ever since amongst those who were the first to
rise against British authority—the Volksraad or Boer Parliament granted
concessions for every manufacture that could be carried on in the
Transvaal—that is, allowing one man, on the payment of a certain sum
per annum, the sole right to manufacture spirits; another, gunpowder;
another, wool, &c.—in each case imposing a countervailing duty on
articles of the same kind coming from Europe, so as, if possible, to
insure the sale of the Transvaal-made article. It is to be remarked,
_en passant_, that the European articles, though thus hampered, still
continue to have by far the largest sale. Amongst other concessions,
a gold concession law was passed, specifying that the owner of any
gold-bearing farm could, on the payment of a sum to be agreed upon per
annum, obtain the sole right to work for gold on his farm, on condition
that he compensated any diggers who might be on his property, working
under the old government license.
The consequence of the promulgation of this last law has been that
nearly every owner of a gold-bearing farm who could pay a year or two’s
concession rental for his property, has taken out a concession, with
the idea of disposing of both concession and farm at a high profit in
the European market, and in few cases with the intention of digging
for gold. As nothing is stated in the gold concessions about the time
in which the original diggers are to be compensated, or any fixed
basis on which their claims are to be valued, this has almost led to
a dead-lock in the gold production, and caused much litigation in the
High Court at Pretoria. The diggers decline to enhance the value of
any concessionaire’s property by further exploring and opening it up,
and the concessionaires in but few cases have the capital wherewith
to compensate the diggers. As European investors, however, are not
so easily influenced by a high-flown prospectus as formerly, it is
probable that before long the owners of the farms bearing gold will see
the propriety of again throwing them open at a rental to diggers, and
thereby increasing their own revenue and that of the country generally;
for, with a large mining population, both merchants and farmers find a
ready sale for their goods and produce; the natives are taught to work,
which is by far the most civilising influence that can be brought to
bear upon them; and money will be circulated in a country where the
want of it has never been felt more than at present.
There is not throughout the country what can be called a mining town,
the nearest approach to one being Pilgrim’s Rest, about thirty-five
miles from the district of Lydenburg. This is on the property of a
London firm, who appear to be sparing no expense, either in money or
machinery, to test their property thoroughly. The town is situated
in a most picturesque valley, reminding one more of Switzerland than
South Africa; and the old fashion amongst Australians and Californians
of giving odd names to places is observable here, in such names as
Jerusalem Gully, Tiger Creek, &c. As usual, the Scotsman is here in
force, as may be naturally expected in the most out-of-the-way place
where there is a chance of making money. Indeed, one of the camps
near Pilgrim’s Rest is named Mac-Mac, after the number of Macs who
formerly lived there; one of them, who is buried near here, being the
unfortunate Mac whose strange story was related in the account of St
Kilda published some years ago in this _Journal_.
The country, although very picturesque and well watered in the valleys,
is very rough to travel over, and, without exception, has the worst
roads traversing it in South Africa. From Lydenburg to Spitzkop,
another mining camp, the road would make a London cab-driver’s hair
stand on end; and the trouble and danger of conveying machinery along
these roads by the cumbersome bullock-wagon can only be understood by
those having experience of South Africa. From May till October it is
possible to obtain goods from Delagoa Bay through the Portuguese port
of Lorenco Marques, the road being fairly good in that direction; but
during the remainder of the year, the dreaded tsetse fly abounds on
the road, and the rivers are so swollen by the rains that transport is
impossible.
Those Companies intending to start work on the gold-fields are
endeavouring to arrange to work their machinery by water-power, the
cost of fuel being very great here. Timber exists in considerable
quantities in the kloofs or valleys of the mountains, but of a kind
of little use for fuel, and almost inaccessible. Coal is found near
Middleburg; but the cost of transport along these roads would almost
prevent its use, although the distance does not exceed one hundred
miles. Water, apparently, will be the greatest difficulty in regard to
any scheme of comprehensive working here, as for gold-working generally
it is necessary to obtain a good water-supply at a high level, which
is extremely difficult to obtain. There are numerous streams in the
valleys; but their sources at a high level are very few, and owing to
the broken and diversified nature of the ground, would cost large sums
of money to convey to any distance.
One very striking instance of perseverance in the above way is that
of a miner over sixty years of age, who, unaided, has spent five
years in bringing a watercourse on towards his claims at Spitzkop,
and expects to take three years longer to finish it. In spite of
numerous difficulties in the way of rocks and boulders, he has steadily
persevered, and has now got through the worst of the work, and makes
good progress, taking his age into consideration. The length of this
watercourse will be about eleven miles when finished, although the
distance from point to point does not exceed four.
The diggers are a wonderfully law-abiding community as a whole; and it
is astonishing to see what a slender staff under the Boer government
is employed to maintain order, one solitary constable at Pilgrim’s
Rest being sufficient for twenty miles round. Much trouble was caused
from 1876 to 1879 through the war with the native chief Secocoeni, and
digging operations were almost suspended; but his defeat by Sir Garnet
Wolseley in 1879 left them free to work again until the end of 1880,
when the war between the Boers and the British caused another cessation
of work. All these things, together with their present troubles with
the concessionaires, before alluded to, would naturally lead one to
expect impatience and turbulence amongst a community many of whom come
from Australian and Californian diggings, where the revolver is the
readiest argument; but, strange to say, it is not the case here.
Unless the working of the gold-fields brings more money into the
country, it is very difficult to see what the future of the Transvaal
will be. The late war with the native chief Mapoch has considerably
impoverished the people; the exports of the country are very trifling,
and the low state of the market at the Diamond Fields has done away
with a large source of income in the sale of produce and coal. The
revenue of the country has steadily fallen since the retirement of
the British troops; the natives are either unable or unwilling to pay
taxes; and the Boers themselves, with very few exceptions, wish the
British were back again. Pretoria and Potchefstroom, the two principal
towns, look almost deserted, and have numerous empty buildings. When
we add to this the high price of living, owing to the duties imposed
on goods, &c., the lookout does not seem cheerful. It is not probable
that the British government will again resume its sway here, even
if invited unanimously by the Boers, but it is possible that some
system of Union or Confederation will before long take place amongst
the different states of South Africa; and should the railway be
constructed from Delagoa Bay, _viâ_ Pretoria, to Kimberley, it is
certain that the country would benefit much by the improved means of
communication. These, however, are prospects of the far future; and
until the gold-fields are further developed by the present owners, and
the government capable of paying its way and seeing its course fairly
before it on a firm basis, it would be unwise for intending investors
to place too much faith on the representations of promoters. Gold _is_
in the Transvaal, and in considerable quantities, but not everywhere,
and as yet comparatively little real exploration has been carried
on below the surface to any depth. The crushing now commencing at
Pilgrim’s Rest and Ross Hill will be the first real test as to the gold
in the quartz, and it is to be hoped will be satisfactory to those who
have had the courage to lead the way.
BY MEAD AND STREAM.
CHAPTER XVIII.—THE SEALED LETTER.
Philip drew his breath more freely. He experienced that delightful
sense of relief which rewards one who has been long overstrained, when
the strain is relaxed before the stage of exhaustion is reached. But
such is the perversity of human nature, that his gladness was tinged
with something resembling a degree of disappointment. Certainly the
tinge was so delicate that he was not thoroughly aware of its real
character. To Madge the shade was revealed in this way.
‘I wish the accident had been a little more serious,’ he said.
She opened her eyes in astonishment. ‘What a wicked wish,’ was her
reproachful comment.
‘We have made such a fuss about my going,’ he went on, turning things
over in his mind, ‘that we shall look ridiculous to everybody when it
becomes known that a stupid tumble off a horse has stopped me.’
‘I think we should only be ridiculous if we minded the foolish people
who thought us so,’ she answered very wisely.
‘Ah, you never heard the story of the curate who in a moment of
enthusiasm declared his intention of making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.’
‘What about him?’
‘“What about him?” The poor beggar was so worried by everybody he
met afterwards asking in surprise how he had managed to get back
from Jerusalem so soon—then why he hadn’t gone—when he was going—and
looking as if he had perpetrated a fraud—that he was forced to make the
pilgrimage in order to escape being called a humbug.’
‘But you are not a curate, and—I don’t think you are a humbug, Philip,’
she said with a twinkle of fun in her eyes.
‘I hope not,’ he rejoined, laughing. ‘But what _can_ have induced Uncle
Shield to change all his plans so suddenly?’
That question was a source of much marvel to them both. During the
afternoon, an idea occurred to Madge, which seemed so extravagant, that
at first she only smiled at it, as one smiles at the revelation of some
pretty but absurd dream.
This was the idea: that in some way this sudden change of plans by
Mr Shield was associated with her and the memory of her mother. She
was nearer the truth than she imagined, although the more she thought
over it, the more she was impressed by the possibility of the surmise
finding some foundation in the motives which actuated Mr Shield’s
present conduct.
She did not, however, think the surmise of sufficient importance to
speak about yet; but she asked Aunt Hessy to tell Philip on the first
opportune occasion about her mother and his uncle. Philip ought to know
about it, whether or not there was anything in her fanciful idea.
Aunt Hessy, with a little smile of approval, gave the promise, and,
passing her hand affectionately over the girl’s head, added: ‘Thou’lt
be a happy woman, dearie; and bring peace to sore troubled breasts.
There never was ill but good lay behind it, if we would only seek and
find it. That’s an old saying; but there’s a deal of comfort in most
old sayings. Seems to me as if they were the cries of folk that had
proved them through suffering.’
‘What did Mr Shield say in his letter to you, aunt?’
The dame shook her head, and although still smiling, looked as she
felt, awkward.
‘I am not to tell thee—anyway, not now. By-and-by, when I come to
understand it myself, I will tell thee; but do not thou ask again until
I speak. It will be best.’
And Madge knew that whatever Aunt Hessy chose to do—whether to speak or
be silent—would be best. So she said simply: ‘Very well, aunt.’
‘I am going into the oak room to wrestle with the spirit, as my father
used to say when he wanted to be left quite by himself. I want to be
quite by myself till I get the right end of this riddle. I have been
trying it two or three times since you went out, but the answer has not
come yet. I am to try again. Be not you afraid, though I do not come
out till tea-time.’
She spoke as if amused at herself; but when she had closed the door of
the oak room and seated herself in a big armchair beside one of the
gaunt windows, the smile faded from her kindly face, and her expression
became one of mingled sadness and perplexity.
But everything Dame Crawshay had to do was done sedately—with that
perfect composure which can be obtained only by a mind at rest with
itself and innocent of all evil intention. She put on her spectacles,
and quietly took from her pocket the two letters she had received from
Mr Shield. One was open, and she had studied it many times that day,
for it presented the riddle she had not yet been able to solve: the
other, which had been inclosed in the first, was still unopened.
She settled herself down to make one more effort to find the right
thing to do.
‘Dear Friend,’ said the open letter, ‘in telling me that I have still
a kindly place in your memory, you have given me a pleasure which I am
glad to have lived long enough to experience. Thank you. And I ask you
to take this “Thank you” in its full sense of respect and gratitude.
‘I knew that’—here there was a word scored out, but the dame deciphered
it to be ‘Lucy’—‘_she_ had left a daughter under your care. I have
thought of her—very often thought of her; and wished that it might be
in my power to serve her as I would have served her mother, had I known
of her misfortunes in time. But whenever I thought of writing to you
about her, my pen was stopped by the same strange stupor—paralysis or
whatever it may be that affects my brains whenever certain memories
are stirred—the same which rendered me dumb and incapable of listening
to you, when you might have given me explanations that would no doubt
have made my suffering less. I do not ask for explanations now; perhaps
it would be best to give me none. I am sure it would be best; and
yet I have a longing to know anything you may have to tell me about
Lucy. Time has taken the sting from memory: there is no bitterness in
my thought of her—I do not think there ever was any bitterness in my
thoughts about her. Looking back, I only see the bright days when we
were so happy together, dreaming of our future. Then there is the black
day when you told me she was married. Somebody died that day—my better
self, I always think. Since then, I seem to have been toiling through a
long tunnel, so numbed with cold and sunk in darkness that I have felt
nothing and seen nothing.
‘But the information contained in your note about the intended
marriage of Lucy’s child to Philip Hadleigh has brought me back into
the daylight. The change was so sudden, that for a little while my
eyes were dazzled and my mind confused. I see clearly now. Here is my
opportunity to serve Lucy. There can be nothing you can tell me which
can affect my craving to serve her; and I can only do it by guarding
her daughter. I proceed to England by the next steamer which leaves the
nearest port.
‘I am aware that you will find it difficult to understand me from what
I have written here. I have tried to make my purpose plain to you in
the packet which is inclosed with this; but what is put down there is
for the present intended only for you. Before you break the seal, I
ask you, in Lucy’s name, to keep my confidence from your niece, and
even from your husband, until we meet. Should this be asking too much,
I beseech you to put the packet into the fire without opening it. Let
me assure you at once that in withholding my purpose for a time from
others, you will in nowise harm—or even run the risk of harming the
living or the dead, whilst you may be able to assist me greatly in the
service I wish to do for your sister’s child.
‘Decide as you will: I trust you shall be satisfied that the grounds
for your decision are as sufficient as mine are for the course I have
adopted.’
Here was the question she found it so difficult to answer: could she
accept this trust? It was contrary to all her notions of right that she
should have any thought which she might not communicate to her husband.
She had never had a secret; her life had run so smoothly that there had
been no occasion for one. She was grateful for having been spared the
temptations to falsehood, which a secret, however trifling in itself,
entails. But she took no special credit to herself on this account.
Indeed, the good woman found it hard to understand why there should
be any mysteries in the conduct of people at all. The straightforward
course appeared to her so much easier to travel than the crooked ways
which some choose or fall into unawares, that she wondered why, on
purely selfish grounds, they should continue in them, when the way out
was so simple.
At this moment her theory was put to a severe test. She was asked to
keep a secret, but it was not her own or of her seeking. Then she
should refuse to accept the trust. On the other hand, she was assured
by one in whose honesty she had every reason to place implicit faith,
that the secret meant no harm to any one—that she was only required to
keep it for a time, and that by so doing she would aid him in carrying
into effect his design for the welfare of Madge.
She took a practical view of the mode in which he proposed to benefit
the child of the woman he had loved long ago. He was rich, he was
childless: of course his purpose must be to make her his heiress. Then
why should he make such a mystery of such a generous act? She had heard
of people who took the drollest possible way of bequeathing their
fortunes. Maybe it amused them: maybe they were a little wrong in the
head, and were therefore to be pitied. Why, then, should she not humour
him, by letting him have his own way so long as it was harmless, as
she would do with any person whose eccentricity could not be agreeably
dealt with otherwise? This was coming nearer to a settlement of her
doubts.
Now she could either burn the sealed letter, or send it to him at his
lawyer’s, whose address he gave her for further communications. But the
argument was in favour of opening it; and what lingering hesitation she
might have on the subject was decided by that strain of curiosity which
the best of women have inherited.
She deliberately cut the envelope with her scissors and unfolded
the paper on her lap. The contents were somewhat of the nature she
expected; but the way in which he purposed benefiting Madge was
different from anything she could have guessed.
‘Although events which in the first hours of their occurrence appeared
to be too hard for me to live through have become in time only sad
memories, flitting at intervals across my mind without causing pain
or interfering with my ordinary ways, your letter has brought me so
close to the old times, that I seem to be living in them again. The old
interests—the old passions are as strong upon me at this moment as they
were when I still possessed the greatest of all fortunes—Youth and Hope.
‘Even when I knew that _she_ was lost to me, there remained the
prospect that some day she might need my help, and I should find
consolation in giving it. Her death took that comfort from me, and I
settled down to the dull business of living without a purpose. Luck,
not labour, brought me _money_—that is why I am indifferent to it. This
was how it came.
‘You remember the old hawthorn tree in your father’s garden, where so
many glad hours were spent with Lucy? Well, on a green patch of this
land which I was lazily farming here was an old hawthorn tree, and
associating it with the one which had such deep root in my memory, it
became my favourite resting-place. I made a seat beneath it as like the
old one as possible, and there I used to sit reading or thinking of the
dead man who was my former self. Under this tree I found a diamond: it
was the first of many. But you have read about the diamond fields—and
now you know the source of my wealth.
‘My intention has been from the first that Lucy’s daughter should
benefit by my luck. I could not feel, and you could not expect me to
feel, much active interest in her childhood, knowing that she was
under your protection, and therefore well cared for. Your information
that she is engaged to marry Philip Hadleigh has roused me from a long
sleep. I have formed a good opinion of the young man from his letters.
I purposed having him here with me for a year or so, in order to judge
of his character before deciding in what manner I should best fulfil
the promise given to my sister, to do what I could for him in the
future. The fact that you and your husband regard him with so much
favour as to give your niece to him, would be in the case of another a
sufficient guarantee that he is worthy of all trust.
‘_But he is Lloyd Hadleigh’s son._
‘What that means to me, I do not care to explain, and it is unnecessary
to do so. It is sufficient to tell you that it compels me to make him
_prove_ that he is worthy of trust—above all, that he is worthy of
Madge Heathcote.
‘I intended to judge of him by observing his ways during his stay with
me. Now I intend to put him to the severest test of human nature—the
test of what is called Good Fortune.
‘You love your niece. You cannot trust the man if you object to let him
prove his worth.
AUSTIN SHIELD.’
CHAPTER XIX.—THE FIRST INTERVIEW.
A few days had passed when Philip startled little Dr Joy with the
information that he had walked two miles and felt equal to two more.
‘But you must not try it, though,’ said the doctor quickly; ‘you are a
strong fellow, but you must not be in too great a hurry to prove it. We
must be economical of our strength, you know, as well as of everything
else. You are getting on nicely—very nicely and with wonderful
rapidity. Don’t spoil it all by too much eagerness.’
‘Don’t be afraid—I’ll take care.’
The afternoon post brought him a note from Mr Shield, announcing his
arrival at the _Langham Hotel_, and inquiring if he felt strong enough
to call there next day at eleven.
‘I am quite strong enough to be with you at the time mentioned,’ was
Philip’s prompt reply; and he kept the engagement punctually.
Being expected, he was conducted immediately to the sitting-room of one
of the finest suites of apartments on the first floor. Evidently Mr
Shield had an idea of taking advantage of all the comforts of the old
country, to make up for whatever inconveniences he had submitted to in
his colonial life.
Standing at one of the windows was a big brawny man, dressed in
dark-brown tweed. He turned as Philip entered, and showed a face
covered with thick, shaggy hair, which had been black, but was now
plentifully streaked with silver. Of his features, only the eyes and
nose were distinguishable, for the shaggy hair fell over his brow, too,
in defiance of combs and brushes.
Philip’s idea of Mr Shield’s appearance had been vague enough; but
somehow this man was so unlike every preconceived notion of him, that
he would have fancied there was a mistake, had not all doubt been at
once removed by the greeting he received.
‘How do you do, Philip? Glad to see you.’
He held out a big horny hand, which betokened a long friendship with
pickaxe and spade. His manner was somewhat rough, but it was frank and
good-natured. Still it was unlike the manner of one who had received
some education and had been accustomed to move in ordinary society.
All this, however, Philip quickly accounted for by recalling the
fact, that Mr Shield had been living so many years on the outskirts
of civilisation, that he must have forgotten much, and unconsciously
adopted some of the characteristics of his uncouth associates.
‘I am glad to see you at last, sir,’ he said, grasping the extended
hand cordially.
‘That’s right. I like a man who can give you a grip when he does shake
hands. If he can’t, he ought to leave it alone. I don’t bother much
with hand-shaking. A nod’s as good in our part. But coming so far, you
see—— Oh, all right’ (the last phrase was like a private exclamation,
as he suddenly remembered something).... ‘Sit down. Have anything?’
‘No; thank you.’
‘Ah, right, right. Under orders, I suppose. Forgot your accident. How’s
the ribs?’
‘Pretty well, I am happy to say,’ answered Philip, smiling at the
droll, gruff, abrupt style of his uncle, and appreciating the
kindliness which was clearly visible through it. ‘The doctors tell me I
shall never know that the accident happened.’
‘That’s good. Now you know what we are not to speak about, and what we
are to speak about is yourself.’
‘That is generally an agreeable subject.’
‘Should be always to a youngster like you. Now, I want to start you
in life. That was my promise, and I am able to keep it. What is your
notion of a start?’
‘I have not decided yet. The result of my journey to you was to settle
what was to follow. As that journey is now unnecessary, I think of
entering for the bar or medicine.’
‘Stuff. Too many lawyers and doctors already. You keep in mind who it
was wished you to come to me?... You needn’t speak.—I see you do. Then
will you obey her, and become my partner?’
‘Your partner!’ ejaculated Philip, astounded by the abruptness of this
extraordinary proposal.
‘Don’t you like the notion? Most young fellows would snap at it.’
‘I am aware of that, Mr Shield; but I have no capital except what my
fa’——
‘That’s all right. You go to Hawkins and Jackson. They will satisfy you
that you have plenty of capital, and will explain to you that there is
a chance for you to become one of the biggest men in London—M.P.—Lord
Mayor—anything you like, if you only enter into partnership with me.’
‘I am a little bewildered, sir, and would like to understand exactly’——
‘Hawkins is waiting for you,’ said Mr Shield, looking at his watch; ‘he
will make everything plain to you before you leave him. He has full
orders—instructions, that is to say. I have somebody else to see now.
You’ll write and tell me how you take to the plan, and I’ll let you
know when we are to meet again.’
‘I ought to thank you; but’——
‘Don’t bother about that—time enough for it—time enough. Good-bye.’
The interview was over. Philip was metaphorically hustled out of the
room by the brusque, good-natured relative he had just found. He felt
confused and bewildered as he walked slowly down Regent Street, trying
to realise the meaning of all the suggestions which had been made to
him. There was something humorous, too, in having a fortune thrust upon
him in this singular fashion. For he knew that to become the partner of
Austin Shield was equivalent to inheriting a large fortune.
In their correspondence of course, Mr Shield had told him that he meant
to ‘see what could be done for him;’ but he had added that everything
would depend upon how they got on together, after they had lived for a
time under the same roof. Now everything was given to him when they had
been only a few minutes together—indeed had been given before they met
at all, for all arrangements in reference to the partnership had been
already made, and only awaited his acceptance.
‘He is an odder fish in person than he has shown himself in his
letters,’ thought Philip. ‘We’ll see what Hawkins says.’
He took a cab, and as he was driving to the office of the solicitors,
his thoughts cleared. There was no doubt that the prospect so freely
offered him was a brilliant one; but there was a cloud upon it. How
would his father regard this arrangement?
A PRACTICAL SCIENCE AND ART SCHOOL.
GORDON’S COLLEGE, ABERDEEN.
Our Minister for Education, Mr Mundella, in a recent visit to Glasgow
and Edinburgh, delivered a series of speeches remarkable not only
for the interesting accounts he gave of the progress of elementary
education under the national system established by the Education Acts,
but for their strong advocacy of the necessity of providing still
higher and more useful education by means of secondary and technical
schools. He indicated that this might in some measure be attained by a
judicious reform of existing educational endowments, and he instanced
one case of such reorganisation, which he held up as a model worthy
of imitation. The case referred to was that of the institution now
known as Robert Gordon’s College, Aberdeen. The ‘reform’ achieved by
this institution has been so thorough and so successful, and has been
conducted so much in the direction indicated by Mr Mundella, that some
details of its nature and the work now being accomplished by its agency
may prove interesting in themselves, and advantageous as furnishing an
illustration of how our general educational system may be improved and
perfected.
The institution was founded by a Robert Gordon, who had been at one
time a merchant in Danzig, but ultimately settled in Aberdeen, where
he died in 1731. He bequeathed all his property to certain trustees,
for the building of a hospital, and for the maintenance and education
of young boys whose parents were poor and indigent, and not able to
maintain them at school or put them to trades and employments. Owing to
the civil disorders of the time, the hospital was not opened till 1750.
The trust funds, together with the value and revenue of a separate
estate bequeathed in 1816 by a Mr Alexander Simpson of Collyhill,
now amount to an annual revenue of over eight thousand pounds. There
were latterly two hundred boys in the hospital, forty of these being
nominated by the Collyhill trustees. The period of residence was five
years; the education imparted was a fairly good, sound, elementary
one, with a little instruction in mathematics and chemistry, and a
smattering of Latin and French. The bulk of the boys drifted into
mercantile pursuits.
The passing of the Educational Endowments Act of 1878 opened up for
the institution a new and wider sphere of usefulness. In June 1881,
the governing body obtained a Provisional Order under the Act, greatly
altering the constitution and objects of the original trust, and
constituting the hospital a College, in which the chief subjects of
study shall be English Language and Literature, History and Geography,
Modern Languages, Mathematics, and the Elements of Physical and Natural
Science. The number of foundationers was reduced to one hundred and
twenty, and the ‘hospital’ system was almost entirely abolished. The
hospital buildings were converted into a day school; the standard of
education was raised; evening classes were established; and provision
was made for the amalgamation with the College of any mechanics’
institute, scientific or technical school, or other educational
institution.
The College, therefore, as now constituted consists of a day school
and an evening school. It is not necessary for our purposes to detail
the work of the day school in the junior department; but in the
senior, the work branches off into three divisions, the studies being
specialised with a regard to the line of work the boys intend pursuing
on leaving school. In the Commercial School prominent attention is
given to modern languages (French and German), mathematics, arithmetic,
book-keeping, and letter and précis writing, the studies in science
being also continued. In the Trade and Engineering School the studies
carried forward are English and one foreign language (French or
German); but most of the time is devoted to mathematics, experimental
science, and drawing; applied science and technical drawing being the
features of the second year. The teaching in both years is accompanied
by systematic instruction in the workshop (in wood and iron); while
for intending young engineers there is a special course in steam and
the steam-engine; and for those aiming at the building trades, a
special course in building construction and drawing. The workshop,
which is under the superintendence of a practical man, is large and
well equipped. It has thirteen benches and a lathe, and a forge and
three vice-benches; and a proposal is about to be submitted to the
governing body for the further development of this practical department
by providing a steam-engine and other appliances. The third division
of the school—the Classical—is for boys intending to proceed to the
university.
At the present time, there are five hundred and eighty day scholars,
one hundred and twenty of whom are foundationers. Ninety day scholars
are receiving instruction in the workshop in relays of fifteen at
a time, one hour being devoted to the workshop, and four hours to
ordinary teaching. The school-hours are five per day, and most of the
school-work is done in that time, the pupils, though not altogether
exempt from home-work, not being oppressed by it. Plenty of time is
thus given for exercise and enjoyment; and there is no complaint of
‘over-pressure,’ either on the part of teachers or taught.
The evening school, which is open to adults, and to girls as well
as to boys, is divided into two sections. There is a General and
Commercial section, in which instruction is given in such subjects as
English, arithmetic, French, German, theory of music, phonography, and
political economy. Then there is a Science and Technology section,
having classes for practical plane and solid geometry, machine and
building construction and drawing, applied mechanics and steam, metal
working tools, carpentry and joinery, magnetism and electricity,
electrical engineering, inorganic chemistry, and botany. To the Physics
and Chemistry lecture-rooms are attached a large apparatus-room and
commodious laboratories; and the means and appliances are enlarged
from time to time, one hundred pounds being devoted this year to
the purchase of scientific apparatus and chemicals. In the Applied
Mechanics class, the strength of materials and the strains in
structures are investigated experimentally; while the class meets
occasionally on Saturday afternoons for experiments in practical
mechanics in the laboratory, or to study the actual applications of
mechanics in some of the engineering works in the town.
The classes in the Science section are specially adapted for students
qualifying for the examinations of the Science and Art Department
and of the Society of Arts, and for the City and Guilds of London
examinations in Technology; and the College—under the able direction of
the head-master, the Rev. Alexander Ogilvie, LL.D.—is now beginning to
take a high position in connection with these examinations. Dr Ogilvie
first instituted Science and Art classes in Gordon’s Hospital in 1875,
not only for boys in the hospital, but also for those who had completed
their education there and were serving apprenticeships in Aberdeen.
The beginnings were small, classes for magnetism and electricity and
physical geography being first started. In course of time, however,
botany was added, followed by mathematics, theoretical mechanics, and
inorganic chemistry; and soon half-a-dozen classes were in full swing,
yielding by-and-by very satisfactory results, all the more satisfactory
as teaching in these special subjects was given out of school-hours,
or, as the inspector reported, ‘Science has taken its place in the
institution, and has displaced nothing.’
The reorganisation of the College, which came into practical operation
in August 1881, gave a new impetus to the evening classes and the
science teaching. During session 1881-82, two hundred and four scholars
attended the evening classes, of whom one hundred and seventy-one
presented themselves at the examinations of the Science and Art
Department. Of these, sixty-nine gained eighty-eight Queen’s prizes,
value twenty-eight pounds ten shillings, and first-class certificates;
eighty-seven gained second-class certificates; and fifteen failed.
The total Department (government) grants that fell to the teachers
amounted to three hundred and forty-six pounds ten shillings. In
session 1882-83, the number of tickets issued for the evening classes
was—For General and Commercial classes, six hundred and eighty-two; for
Science classes, five hundred and eighty-seven: total, twelve hundred
and sixty-nine. Of this number, three hundred and eighty-one individual
students attended the Science classes, of whom two hundred and
thirty-five were present at the examinations. Ninety of these gained
one hundred and twenty-two Queen’s prizes, of the value of thirty-nine
pounds five shillings, with first-class certificates; one hundred and
four gained second-class certificates; and forty-one failed. The grants
earned from the Department amounted to three hundred and sixty-five
pounds. In the Society of Arts’ examinations, sixty-nine candidates
were examined—the largest number from any institution, except the
Birmingham and Midland Institute—and fifty-three passed, four gaining
first-class certificates, and twenty second-class certificates. In the
City and Guilds’ examination, the number presented in technology—metal
working tools—was eight, of whom two gained first-class honours, five
stood first-class in the ordinary grade, and one second-class. One
student so distinguished himself, being second in the examination of
all the candidates in the United Kingdom, that he was awarded a prize
of three pounds and a bronze medal.
Within the past year, the Science teaching in the College has been
largely developed by a provisional amalgamation with the Aberdeen
Mechanics’ Institution, in connection with which there has been for
many years a School of Art and Science classes. The Science classes
and the scientific apparatus of the Mechanics’ Institution have been
transferred to the College, which has become thereby the Science
school for the city. The amalgamation—almost certain to be permanently
ratified—coupled with the more complete and systematic instruction in
Gordon’s College, promises to be fruitful of good results, which may,
indeed, be already anticipated, for no fewer than fifteen hundred and
forty-seven students have enrolled themselves in the various evening
classes for the current session.
The value of the work which the College is accomplishing can hardly be
over-estimated. The objects of the institution, as now recast, are—in
addition to the education of foundationers—to afford a good elementary
education at fees so small as to make it within the reach of the sons
of working-men even; to help its own scholars, and boys leaving Board
Schools, to a knowledge of subjects not otherwise readily attainable;
and to furnish to the apprentice and the artisan instruction in
science and technology of a higher grade. The College, in short, aims
at being a complete and efficient secondary school, and really forms
for the city of Aberdeen the much-desiderated link between elementary
and university education—a link that will be more apparent and more
serviceable when the universities come to be reformed, and when more
attention will likely be paid to scientific than to classical studies.
Even as things are, a number of the scholars have already found their
way to the university, and have been successful in gaining bursaries
and other honours; and two of them—educated partly in the Hospital and
partly in the College—have recently passed the competitions for the
Indian Civil Service without the preliminary ‘coaching’ in London,
generally regarded as essential. One of the two is now in receipt of
one hundred and fifty pounds a year during his two years of probation,
after which he will become one of Her Majesty’s civil servants in
India. The Commercial School provides an education well suited for
young men who intend engaging in the various occupations and industries
of the town and district; while in the evening classes they have every
opportunity of continuing their studies as their inclinations or their
pursuits dictate.