Alfred Roberton felt the smart of Nan’s summary dismissal more than he
could have expected, or even than he owned to himself. His vanity was
sorely hurt, and he lost a good deal of that audacious _insouciance_
in his manner towards the opposite sex for which he had been before
remarkable. He sent back Nan’s letters honourably enough, and set
himself to forget her, as she had him. In order to effect this, he
determined to supplant the old love by a new; and commenced paying
marked attentions to Miss Curtiss, the twenty-thousand-pound young
lady. His suit prospered, and the fair one capitulated; but the terms
of the surrender were to be fixed by her friends. They made objections
to the smallness and uncertainty of his income. On the other hand,
Alfred’s solicitor found the young lady’s properties were so heavily
mortgaged as only to leave a very small margin of income; and the
result was the negotiations were broken off. Then, somehow or another,
his society was no longer so eagerly sought after. A young violinist
had taken the place he formerly held in Mrs Judson’s social circle,
and when that gentleman was present, Alfred was cast entirely in the
shade. But there was worse than that: he could no longer find a market
for the remainder of his manuscripts. The publishers and editors who
had patronised him before were desirous of seeing what course the
_Olympic_ took with regard to him. It was very singular, they thought,
that there never was any second article from his pen inserted in it.
Some ill-speaking folks even went the length of hinting that he wasn’t
‘Ariel’ at all; that the claim he made to that _nom de plume_ was a
mere ruse to get into society, and get some of his trashy manuscripts
palmed off on unsuspicious editors and publishers.
He felt these things very grievous to bear: the only hope that buoyed
him up was, that when the editor of the _Olympic_ returned to town, all
would be put right. He would go straight to him and say: ‘I am Ariel!
and here is a much superior sketch to the one I first sent you. Insert
it, and I will not haggle with you about the amount of the honorarium,
for I know you are a generous paymaster.’ Then all would again be well;
he would resume his proper place in society, and his writings would be
as eagerly sought after as ever.
It was towards the end of March when Mr Hannay returned from his
prolonged continental tour. Allowing him a day or two to get settled
down, one blowy, blustering forenoon, Alfred sallied forth to call on
him. He sent in his card, and in a few minutes was in the editor’s
sanctum.
‘Pray, be seated, sir,’ said Mr Hannay politely. ‘I—I do not remember
your name, Mr Roberton.’
‘Ah, I daresay not,’ he replied, smiling. ‘You’ll know me better by my
_nom de plume_. I am Ariel!’
Alfred was gratified to see the slight start which followed this
important announcement, and he likewise became conscious that he was
being inventoried by a pair of keen black eyes. He put a favourable
interpretation on these indications of interest.
‘And what then, Mr Ariel, can I have the pleasure of doing for you?’
said Mr Hannay after a brief pause.
‘Well, sir, I have an excellent little paper here,’ Alfred replied,
producing a manuscript from his coat-pocket. ‘It is entitled “A Week’s
Yachting on the Rhine.” It is very carefully written; and I can vouch
for its accuracy in details, as it is extended from notes I made when
yachting there with a friend.’
‘Oh, very well, sir,’ said the editor, laying the paper aside. ‘I’ll
take a look at it. But I can hold out hardly the least hope of being
able to accept it. We are literally deluged with that sort of matter,
and can’t find room for one in fifty of the manuscripts that are sent
us.—At anyrate,’ he added, laughing, ‘it would require to be a little
better than your “Ramble in Kirkcudbright.”’
What could all this mean? thought the bewildered Alfred. Was the editor
making a fool of him? At the very suggestion, he flushed red, and it
was with an effort he was able to stammer forth: ‘And pray, sir, if the
article was so worthless, why did you accept it? And why did you send
me so handsome an honorarium?’
The editor looked both surprised and puzzled. Instead of replying to
the question, he asked one: ‘Are you the gentleman who is engaged to be
married to Miss Anne Porteous?’
‘No!—Yes! That is to say, I was engaged, but am not so now.’
‘Indeed! And how is that?’ said the editor, with an air of interest.
‘Well, you see,’ said Alfred, who had now regained his self-possession,
‘my friends advised me to break off the connection. You know, between
ourselves, it wouldn’t do for a literary man of any standing to marry a
common innkeeper’s daughter; although I must say the girl herself was
well enough, and might have passed muster after a little training.’
The editor’s eyes became blacker, keener, and sharper—they seemed
almost to flash fire as he said; ‘You would know what she was, I
suppose, when you sought her love.—Yes? Then what right had you to
avail yourself of that as an excuse for casting her off? It’s about the
most unmanly thing I ever’——
‘Hold, hold!’ cried Alfred, who saw he had gone on the wrong tack for
conciliating the editor’s favour. ‘You misunderstand the matter. My
friends wanted me to break off the marriage; but I never proposed such
a thing to the young lady. I meant to marry her in two or three years
honourably. But she wrote to me; and I went down to see her—and we had
a quarrel, and she broke off the engagement herself—upon my honour, she
did!’
The editor’s features relaxed their tension; there was almost the
suggestion of a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. ‘Well, Mr
Roberton, I am glad you have cleared your character so well.—You are
anxious to know why I accepted your first paper. This, I think, will
explain it,’ he added, unlocking a private drawer and handing him a
manuscript.
Alfred looked at it with a stupefied air. Here were a dozen sheets of
foolscap covered with Nan’s neat lady-like writing, and signed Ariel;
reply to be addressed, Ariel, Glenluce post-office.—To lie till called
for.
He felt as if he were listening to a voice in a dream, as the editor
went on to say: ‘You see, sir, I heard that Nan was going to be married
to a young student she had met in Brussels. Now, students, as a rule,
are not over-burdened with ready cash; and when I got the manuscript
in her handwriting, I readily came to the conclusion that it was a
production of her lover’s, and that she had copied it out in her own
handwriting, thinking that, for old acquaintance’ sake, I would stretch
a point, and give it admission to our pages, and pay handsomely for it.
This I did; for I thought that, as her father would be certain to be
opposed to the match, a little ready cash would be useful to her and
her lover in taking up house. In fact, I may say I sent the little sum
as a marriage present! But I cannot understand how you are not aware of
all this.’
The whole truth was now made plain to the unfortunate lover. He
remembered now her snatching the letter from his hand and running
up-stairs with it. He remembered now her red and sleepy-looking eyes
the next morning. He knew now the cause—the devoted girl had sat up all
night copying his manuscript, so that it might have the better chance
of acceptance! How carefully she had kept the knowledge to herself of
the great service she had done him, and that in spite of his foolish
gasconading talk! To her and her alone he owed his little brief season
of popularity and success: and that popularity and success was the
cause of his looking down on her! Oh, what a blinded fool he had
been—blinded by his own selfish vanity!
He mumbled a few words of explanation to the editor, and left the
office a sadder and, it is to be hoped, a wiser man. He thought of
flying to Nan, throwing himself at her feet, and entreating her
forgiveness and love. But remembering the proud white face, the
outstretched arm pointing to the door, and the clear emphatic ‘Go!’
twice repeated, he shook his head sadly, and muttered, ‘Too late—too
late.’ It may be said here that he gave up literature for good and all,
obtained a situation as a surgeon in an emigrant ship, fell in love
with a lady-patient during the voyage, married her on their arrival at
Sydney, and starting the practice of his profession, settled down there.
As for the editor of the _Olympic_, he went down as usual the following
September to Lochenbreck, repeated a question he had asked before, and
got a different reply. Nan is now his wife.
THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.
The late meeting of the British Association at Birmingham has proved
a success with regard both to the attendance of members and to the
importance of the various papers read in the several sections. Next
year the Association will meet at Manchester, and the year after at
Bath. The suggestion from Sydney, that the Association should in 1888
visit New South Wales and hold its meeting there in the January of that
year, cannot, on account of many difficulties which are foreseen, be
accepted in its entirety. But it is intended that about fifty members
shall form a representative delegation to our Australian colony, their
expenses being liberally defrayed by the government of New South Wales.
It is very pleasing to record this little sign of the good-fellowship
which exists between far-off Australia and the mother-country.
We expressed a hope some months ago that an institution of a permanent
nature might grow out of the splendid Indian and Colonial Exhibition at
South Kensington, which in a few days will close its prosperous career.
It has now been proposed by the Prince of Wales that the Jubilee of
Queen Victoria’s reign shall be commemorated by an Institute which
should represent the Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce of Her Majesty’s
Colonial and Indian Empire, and which should be at once a Museum, an
Exhibition, and the proper locality for the discussion of Colonial and
Indian subjects.
Very little is heard now of tempered or toughened glass for domestic
purposes, although, a year or two back, such glass was much advertised
and its praises constantly sung. We understand that the reason why it
has at present disappeared from public notice is that its efficiency
does not last. When fresh from the factory, it can be dropped from
a height on to the floor and knocked about with impunity. But some
gradual and not understood change occurs in its constitution, for
after a short time it will fly to pieces without any apparent cause.
It is said, too, that unscrupulous traders who have a stock of the
faulty material are selling it as ordinary glass. Those, therefore,
who experience unaccountable breakages, will know to what cause to
attribute them. A really unbreakable glass would be such a boon, that
it is to be hoped that further experiment will soon show how it can be
manufactured.
From some recent experiments in New York, it would seem that the danger
of using dynamite as a charge for explosive projectiles has been
obviated. The weapon used was a four and a half inch rifled gun, with
a charge of three and a quarter pounds of gunpowder, the experimental
shells holding each more than one pound of dynamite. To avoid any
risk from concussion, and premature explosion of the shell in the
bore of the gun, the cartridge and shell were separated by wads made
of asbestos. Twenty-seven shells were fired with such safety to the
gunners, that the extraordinary precautions observed during the first
rounds were ignored during the later ones.
The boat which the other day twice crossed the Channel between Dover
and Calais affords an example of the rapid progress which has lately
been made in the science of electricity. This little craft, which
is only thirty-seven feet in length, glided over the water with no
visible means of propulsion. The voyage was an experimental one, and
was designed to show that this plan of electrical propulsion was as
practicable on the sea as before it had been proved to be on inland
waters. Such a boat could, say her promoters, be carried hanging to
the davits of a ship, and be ready for immediate use. The required
electrical current is derived from accumulators, or secondary
batteries, stored and acting as ballast beneath the deck floor of
the little vessel. These require to be charged by a dynamo machine
at intervals, and such a charge this Channel trip amply proves will
suffice for a run of between forty and fifty miles. Supposing that the
system were adopted for torpedo vessels, it is obvious that this amount
of storage capacity would be far more than sufficient for ordinary
needs.
Another vessel which obtains its motive-power from a very different
source, but which must also be looked upon as an experimental boat,
has been invented and built by Messrs Secor of Brooklyn. Unlike the
electric boat, it possesses no screw propeller or other moving parts.
But it is furnished on each side with open ports below the water-level,
which are in communication with an ‘exploding chamber.’ This chamber is
constructed of steel, and is capable of sustaining an enormous internal
pressure. It is filled with charges of petroleum vapour and air under
pressure, and this explosive mixture is ignited by electricity. It
will therefore be seen that the propelling apparatus of this boat may
be compared to a gas-engine; but the explosions, which occur several
times in a minute, instead of forcing forward a piston to act upon a
fly-wheel, impinge upon the water at the stern of the vessel, and so
push the boat forward. Should this method of driving a vessel through
the water prove efficient, it will certainly be economical, for little
more than half a barrel of petroleum will suffice for a twenty-four
hours’ run.
Another invention from Brooklyn is of far greater importance than
the one just recorded, for it is of a life-saving character, and is
designed to prevent those collisions at sea which seem to be so greatly
on the increase. It consists of a marine brake, and is the contrivance
of Mr John M‘Adams. The experimental vessel, _The Florence_, which
is fitted with the brake, has been reported upon officially, and the
behaviour of the apparatus is highly commended. The brake consists
of two wings made of steel, one on each side of the vessel and below
water-level. These have the appearance of flat boards about eight feet
square, hinged to the stern-post, and which when not in action fold
forwards, secured by hidden chains, close to and touching the vessel’s
sides. In case of danger of collision, the touch of a button by the
captain on the bridge will loosen these chains, and cause some springs
to act upon the wings, so that they fly out at right angles to the
sides of the ship. In this position they are held by the now lengthened
chains, and form an obstacle to the water, which checks the motion of
the vessel immediately, even if the engines continue to work. If the
engines are stopped at the moment the brake is put into action, the
ship is brought to a standstill in twenty-two seconds. If, again, the
engine be stopped and reversed at the moment of working the brake, the
vessel commences to go astern in the remarkably short space of twelve
seconds. It will be seen from these results that the invention gives
every promise of being of great use. Besides being efficient, it is
simple in character, and, from its nature, cannot be a very expensive
additional fitting to a ship.
The lamentable accident at the Crarae Quarries, by which seven persons
lost their lives, is happily a most unusual one, although in character
it is closely allied with those fatalities from ‘choke-damp’ by
which so many poor colliers have been killed. The explosion of gas
underground, or of gunpowder above ground, leads to the evolution of
a quantity of carbonic acid gas, or, to call it by its proper name,
carbon dioxide, the principal product of combustion in either case. In
the workings of a mine, this gas fills every available space, and has
no outlet. In the quarry, on the occasion referred to, much the same
condition of affairs existed, for there was no wind to carry off the
deadly vapour, and its natural heaviness made it cling to the place of
its creation. The surviving relatives of the victims of this accident
have our heartfelt sympathy. They will be comforted by knowing that
death under such conditions is supposed to be painless. It is a sending
to sleep, but a sleep, unfortunately, from which there is no awakening
in this world.
The little town of East Moulsey is now lighted, so far as its public
lamps are concerned, by paraffin instead of gas, as heretofore. The
reason of this apparent retrogression is found in the excessive demands
of the Gas Company, who required the local board to pay at the rate of
four guineas per annum for each lamp. This the local board refused to
do, and provided the district under their care with paraffin lamps.
They are rewarded for their pluck by finding that the cost of the
oil-lamps is but one half of the charge demanded by the Gas Company,
and by hearing the generally expressed opinion of the people that the
place had never before been so well lighted.
The recent earthquakes, which have caused such fearful havoc and loss
of life both in Southern Europe and in America, remind us that our
knowledge of the causes of such terrible phenomena is very meagre, and
that science has not yet discovered any means by which their occurrence
may be predicted. But, in spite of these admitted facts, there are
not wanting on occasions of earthquake self-styled prophets, who will
boldly declare what the morrow will bring forth. Such mischievous
charlatans do much harm, for they terrify the ignorant at a time when
men’s nerves have been already unstrung by recent calamities. In
the year 1750, when London felt a sharp earthquake shock, a prophet
announced the immediate coming of the judgment day. Another predicted
a terrible earthquake for a certain night, with the result that the
people encamped in thousands in Hyde Park. Coming nearer to present
times, we may note the destructive earthquake in 1881 in the island
of Ischia. Here, again, there was a prophecy that there would not be
another visitation of the kind for eighty years. But only two years
after this the beautiful island was shaken to its foundations, and many
lives were lost. During the late disaster at Charleston, a prediction
was made that upon the 29th of September a fearful catastrophe was to
take place. The originator of this mischievous statement should be
severely punished.
We have lately received from Messrs Burton Brothers of Dunedin,
New Zealand, a set of most interesting photographs, taken in the
neighbourhood of Tarawera and Rotomahana, immediately after the late
volcanic eruption. Were we not aware of the terrible facts, we should
suppose that these were winter scenes, for the trees are stripped of
their foliage, and everything is covered with a white ash, which in the
photographs looks likes snow. The ruins of M‘Rae’s hotel at Wairoa, of
which there are front and back views, exhibit such a mass of broken
masonry and twisted iron-work, that one can hardly believe that the
place has not been bombarded.
We are glad to learn, from the _New Zealand Herald_, that the layer of
ashes which covers so many miles of the country, will not, as was at
first feared, choke and kill every blade of grass, but will probably in
time act as a valuable fertilising agent. Already the grass is in many
places growing up through the dust; but the ash has been submitted to
experiment, and is found to be really nourishing to plants grown in it.
Mr Pond, a resident analytical chemist, obtained several samples of the
volcanic dust, and sowed in it grass and clover seeds, and kept them
moistened with distilled water. In each case, we are told, the seedling
plants have come up well and are growing vigorously; it is therefore
hoped that those districts which have received only a light covering of
this dreaded dust will find that the visitation will in the end prove
beneficial to their crops.
As we stated last month, the armour-plated ship _Resistance_ has
lately formed a target for various experiments with different types
of guns. The unfortunate old ship is now being subjected to attacks
by torpedoes, the object being to determine the nearness at which one
of those submarine mines can be exploded without injury to a vessel
when protected by wire-netting. It is proved that if the defensive
netting is supported on booms thirty feet from the ship, it forms
a good protection from torpedoes, and that though a torpedo should
explode on touching the netting, as it will do if fitted with the new
form of pistol trigger, which is very sensitive, the explosion will
do no great harm. The distance of the netting from the ship will be
gradually reduced until the _Resistance_ can resist no longer, and must
be destroyed.
A strange sight was lately witnessed at Salzburg, in the shape of
a vast procession of butterflies, which passed over the city in a
south-westerly direction. They seemed to fly in groups, and while
preserving one line of direction in flight, the groups revolved round
that line. This aërial insect army must have numbered millions of
individual butterflies. From those which fell to the ground, it was
seen that they were of the kind known as willow-spinners.
Photographic tourists—and their name now is legion—will all admit
that their greatest drawback is represented by the weight of the
glass plates which they must carry from place to place in addition to
their other apparatus. This difficulty has just been obviated by the
introduction of a material as a support for the photographic image
which is as light as paper, so that in the compass of an ordinary
two-shilling railway novel, the tourist can carry with him the
sensitised material for a couple of hundred pictures. This material
is known as Woodbury tissue, and was the last invention of the late
eminent experimenter who gave his name to the beautiful Woodburytype
process of photography. His successors have brought the tissue to
marketable perfection, and produce a material as translucent as
glass and one-twentieth part of its weight. The tissue is used in a
singularly ingenious form of dark slide or double back, which can be
readily adjusted to existing forms of cameras.
In the _Camera_ magazine, a very curious phenomenon in connection
with photography is recorded by the person who observed it. He took a
portrait of a child apparently in full health and with a clear skin.
The negative picture showed the face to be thickly covered with an
eruption. Three days afterwards, the child was covered with spots due
to prickly heat. ‘The camera had seen and photographed the eruption
three days before it was visible to the eye.’ Another case of a
somewhat similar kind is also recorded where a child showed spots on
his portrait which were invisible on his face a fortnight previous to
an attack of smallpox. It is suggested that these cases might point to
a new method of medical diagnosis.
The Severn tunnel, one of the greatest engineering undertakings of
modern times, is at last finished, and will be shortly open for
passenger traffic, as it has been some weeks for the conveyance of
goods. The total cost of this great work is estimated at two millions
sterling. The cost has been greatly augmented by the unlooked-for
difficulties which have cropped up during the progress of the works.
Commencing in 1873, the contractor had made steady progress for the
following six years, when a land spring was accidentally tapped,
and the partially constructed tunnel was flooded. Again, in 1881 the
seawater found out a weak place on the Gloucestershire side of the
works, and poured in in torrents. Once more, in 1883 the old land
spring again filled the works with water, which had to be pumped out;
and finally, about the same time, a tidal wave brought about a great
amount of destruction to the works; so we may look upon the completed
tunnel not only as a great monument of engineering skill, but as
an example of unusual difficulties well grappled with, and finally
overcome.
OCCASIONAL NOTES.
PHARAOH’S HOUSE.
It is but a month or two ago that people of an archæological turn of
mind were delighted with the tidings sent home by the Egypt Exploration
Fund of the discovery of Pharaoh’s House in Tahpanhes. An account of
the wonderful old ruin and its reliques of a past civilisation has
been already given; but it may interest many to know that a number of
antiquities have been collected and sent home, and have recently been
on view at the Archæological Institute at Oxford Mansion. It will be
remembered that the ruins were as much those of a military fortress as
of a royal residence, and the objects recovered are almost entirely
those which would be likely to be found in either of two such places.
The first things of interest are the foundation deposits, from under
the four corners of the castle, which consist of small vessels, little
tablets engraved with the name and titles of the royal founder,
Psammetichus I., specimens of ore, &c. The chief articles of jewelry
are earrings, rings, amulets, and engraved stones bearing traces of
Greek workmanship, having been probably manufactured by Greek jewellers
in the town of Tahpanhes, or Daphnæ. Numbers of small weights have been
turned up while digging among the ruins, which it is thought were for
weighing the gold and precious stones previous to purchase.
Rome, too, has left her mark among the charred remains of this ancient
stronghold, and some rings with names inscribed upon them, and ten gems
of good Roman work, prove an intercourse with that nation. There is
a little silver shrine case in which is a beautiful statuette of the
Egyptian war-god, Mentu. Possibly, it may have once been a talisman
belonging to Pharaoh Hophra. A silver ram’s head and gold handle
complete the list of the most important specimens of jewelry.
Among the domestic treasures are a long knife, fourteen inches long
and quite flat; this comes from Pharaoh’s kitchen; so also do the
small frying-pans, and some bowls, bottles, dishes, plates and cups,
all of which date from B.C. 550, and were probably used daily by the
royal household. An old brasier and some ring-stands have also been
brought home. From the butler’s pantry come amphoræ stoppers, stamped
with the cartouches of Psammetichus I., Necho, Psammetichus II., and
Aahmes. These were clay stoppers, sealed by the inspector, and then
plastered over and stamped with the royal oval. Ten specimens of these
Mr Petrie has sent home. Arrow-heads, a sword-handle and part of the
blade, a horse’s bit of twisted pattern, some spikes from the top of
a Sardinian mercenary’s helmet, knives and lances, and some fragments
of scale-armour, show that the old castle had once been a military
stronghold.
This is but an outline, showing the kind of specimens found among the
ruins of El Kasr el Bint el Yahudî (the Castle of the Jew’s Daughter),
and serve to add to the innumerable proofs—if proof were needed—of the
advanced civilisation of the ancient Egyptians. It is believed that
those antiquities will eventually be divided between the Museum at
Boulak (Cairo), the British Museum, the Museum of Fine Arts at Boston,
U.S., and several of the provincial museums of Great Britain.
THE EMIGRANTS’ INFORMATION OFFICE.
It is satisfactory to know that government has at last opened an
office for the dissemination of authentic information to intending
emigrants. The emigration schemes before the country are legion; but
those who apply here will be safe to receive information as to the
British colony to which they propose to emigrate, which does not spring
from any interested motive. At the same time it is always safe for
intending settlers to supplement any knowledge received in this way by
authoritative handbooks, books of travel, and the experiences of former
settlers. Now that there is a prospect of the Indian and Colonial
Exhibition becoming a permanent institution in our midst, we will be
kept pretty well informed as to the position and prospects of our
different colonies. The premises of the Emigrants’ Information Office
are at 31 Broadway, Westminster, London, S.W. The office will be open
every day from twelve noon to eight P.M., except on Wednesdays, when
it will be open from ten A.M. to one P.M. The circulars issued by the
office will be sent to the secretaries of any societies or institutions
who will send in their addresses to the chief clerk.
INCREASED CONSUMPTION OF BRITISH-COLONIAL TEAS.
In a paper read by Mr L. J. Shand of the Ceylon Court at the Colonial
and Indian Exhibition, the present position of the Indian tea-trade was
reviewed. British-colonial teas, which in 1865 formed but three per
cent. of the total quantity consumed in the United Kingdom, amounted
to sixteen per cent. in 1875, and to thirty-three per cent. in 1885.
India had two hundred and fifty thousand acres under tea-cultivation,
and produced seventy million pounds of tea; the capital invested in
the industry was sixteen million pounds; and a quarter of a million
of Her Majesty’s subjects, who indirectly contributed to the income
tax of Great Britain, were engaged in it. The tea-plant was introduced
to Ceylon from China about the year 1842; but it was not till coffee
was stricken by disease that attention was generally directed to the
cultivation of tea in Ceylon. In 1873, a small parcel of twenty-three
pounds of tea was exported from Ceylon; this year, nine million
pounds would be exported, and, estimating the acreage now planted with
tea, the exports in 1890 would be forty million pounds. Proceeding to
consider why British people should drink British-colonial teas, Mr
Shand said that these teas came into the London market pure; there
was no recorded evidence of adulteration having been discovered. The
adulteration of China tea, on the other hand, had been the subject of
several volumes and of special legislation. The purity of Indian and
Ceylon teas made them more sensitive than the ordinary China mixture.
It was not necessary to put such large quantities into the teapot, but
it was all the more necessary that the water should be boiling and that
the tea should not be allowed to stand too long. Disappointment should
not be felt because the liquor was not black; that was in consequence
of the tea being quite pure and unmixed with blacklead or indigo. If
Indian and Ceylon teas were fairly tried and carefully treated, they
would be found more economical than China teas.
IF THIS WERE SO.
O Love, if I could see you standing here,
I, to whom the memory of a scene—
This lane, tree-shadowed, with the summer’s light
Falling in golden showers, the boughs between,
Upon your upturned face—shines out as clear,
Against the background dark of many a year,
As yonder solitary starlet bright
Gleams on the storm-clad bosom of the night.
If this were so—if you should come to me
With your calm, angel face, framed in with gold,
And lay your hand in mine as long ago
You laid it coldly, would the love untold
Hidden within my heart, set my lips free
To speak of it and know the certainty
Of love crowned or rejected—yes or no?
O Love, I could not speak if this were so.
But if you came to meet me in the lane
With footsteps swifter than you used of yore—
And if your eyes grew brighter, dear, as though
They gladdened at my coming back once more—
If, when I held your little hand again,
Your calmness grew less still, then not in vain
My heart would strive to speak, for it would know
What words to utter, Love, if this were so!
KATE MELLERSH.
* * * * *
The Conductor of CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL begs to direct the attention of
CONTRIBUTORS to the following notice:
_1st._ All communications should be addressed to the ‘Editor, 339
High Street, Edinburgh.’
_2d._ For its return in case of ineligibility, postage-stamps should
accompany every manuscript.
_3d._ To secure their safe return if ineligible, ALL MANUSCRIPTS,
whether accompanied by a letter of advice or otherwise, _should
have the writer’s Name and Address written upon them_ IN FULL.
_4th._ Offerings of Verse should invariably be accompanied by a
stamped and directed envelope.
_If the above rules are complied with, the Editor will do his best to
insure the safe return of ineligible papers._
* * * * *
Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
* * * * *
_All Rights Reserved._
* * * * *
[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text.
Page 693: Villiars to Villiers—“down Villiers Street”.]