CHAPTER XLII.

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LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE

OF

POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.

OCTOBER, 1878.

VOLUME XXII.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT

& CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

WARWICK AND COVENTRY.

[Illustration: OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.]

The history of England is written in living characters in the provincial

towns of the kingdom; and it is this which gives such interest to places

which have been surpassed commercially by great manufacturing centres and

overshadowed socially by the attractions of London. The local nobility

once held state little less than royal in houses whose beautiful

architecture now masks a hotel, a livery-stable, a girls' school, a

lawyer's office or a workingmen's club, and there are places where almost

every cottage, every wooden balcony or overhanging oriel, suggests

something romantic and antique. Even if no positive association is

connected with one of these humbler specimens of English domestic

architecture, you can fall back on the traditional home of love and

poetry, the recollections of idyls and pastorals daily acted out by

unconscious illustrators of the poets from one generation to another.

Modern life engrafted on these old towns and villages seems prosaic and

unattractive, though practically it is that which first strikes the eye.

New fronts mask old buildings, as new manners do old virtues; and if we

come to the frame and adjuncts of daily life, we must confess that

nineteenth-century trivialities are intrinsically no worse than mediæval

trivialities.

There are in Warwick more modern houses and smart shops than ancient

gabled and half-timbered houses, but the relics of the past are still

striking: witness the ancient porch of the good old "Malt-Shovel," with

its bow-window, in which the Dudley retainers often caroused, and the

oblique gables in one of the side streets, which Rimmer, a minute observer

of English domestic architecture, thus describes: "An acute-angled street

may be made to contain rectangular rooms on an upper story.... Draw an

acute angle--say something a little less than a right angle--and cut it

into compartments; or, if preferred, an obtuse angle, and cut this into

compartments also. Now, the roadway may be so prescribed as to prevent

right angles from being made on the basement, but the complementary angles

are ingeniously made out by allowing the joists to be of extra length, and

cutting the ends off when they come to the square. The effect is extremely

picturesque, and I cannot remember seeing this peculiar piece of

construction elsewhere."

At the western end of High street stands Leicester's Hospital, which was

originally a hall belonging to two guilds, but, coming into possession of

the Dudleys, was converted into a hospital by Elizabeth's favorite in

1571. The "master" was to belong to the Established Church, and the

"brethren" were to be retainers of the earl of Leicester and his heirs,

preference being given to those who had served and been disabled in the

wars. The act of incorporation gives a list of neighboring towns and

villages, and specifies that queen's soldiers from these, in rotation, are

to have the next presentations. There is a common kitchen, with a cook and

porter, and each brother receives some eighty pounds per annum, besides

the privileges of the house. Early in this century the number of inmates

was increased to twenty-two, unlike many such institutions, whose funded

property accumulated without the original number of patients or the amount

of their pensions being correspondingly increased. The hospital-men still

wear the old uniform--a gown of blue cloth, with the silver badge of the

Dudleys, the bear and ragged staff. The chapel has been restored in nearly

the old form, and stretches over the pathway, with a promenade at the top

of the flight of steps round it, and the black-and-white (or

half-timbered) building that forms the hospital encloses a spacious open

quadrangle in the style common to hostelries. The carvings are very fine

and varied, and add greatly to the beauty of the galleries and covered

stair. The monastic charities founded by men of the old religion are now

in the hands of the corporation for distribution among the poor of the

town, and besides the old grammar-school founded by Henry VIII., with a

yearly exhibition to each of the universities, and open to all boys, rich

and poor, of the town, there are five other public schools and forty

almshouses. The old generous, helpful spirit survives, in spite of new

economic theories, in these English country towns, and landlords and

merchants have not yet given up the old-fashioned belief that where they

make their money they are bound to spend it to the best advantage of their

poorer and less fortunate neighbors. Many local magnates, however, have

departed from this rule. Country gentlemen no longer have houses in the

county-town, but flock to London for the purposes of social and

fashionable life. They have decidedly lost in dignity by this rush to the

capital, and it is doubtful how far they have gained in pleasure, though

the few whose means still compel them to stay at home, or only go to town

once or twice in a lifetime for a court presentation, would gladly take

the risk for the sake of the experiment. The feeling which made the Rohans

adopt as a motto, "Roy ne puis--Prince ne veux--Rohan je suis," is one

which is theoretically strong among the country squires of England, the

possessors of the bluest blood and longest deeds of hereditary lands; but

the snobbishness of the nineteenth century is practically apt to taint the

younger branches when they read of garden-parties given by the royal

princes or balls where duchesses and cabinet ministers are as plentiful as

blackberries. Their great-grandmothers, it is true, were sometimes

troubled with the same longings, for among the many proclamations against

the residence in London of country gentlemen in unofficial positions is

one of James I., noticing "those swarms of gentry, who, through the

instigation of their wives, do neglect their country hospitality and

cumber the city, a general nuisance to the kingdom;" and the royal

Solomon elsewhere observes that "gentlemen resident on their estates are

like ships in port--their value and magnitude are felt and acknowledged;

but when at a distance, as their size seemeth insignificant, so their

worth and importance are not duly estimated." There is a weak point in

this simile, however; so, to cover it with a better and more unpretentious

argument, I will quote a few lines from an old poem of Sir Richard

Fanshawe on the subject of one of these proclamations:

Nor let the gentry grudge to go

Into those places whence they grew,

But think them blest they may do so.

Who would pursue

The smoky glories of the town

That may go till his native earth,

And by the shining fire sit down

On his own hearth?

* * * * *

Believe me, ladies, you will find

In that sweet life more solid joys,

More true contentment to the mind,

Than all town toys.

[Illustration: PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES.]

The solemn county balls, to which access was as difficult as it is now to

a court festivity, have dwindled to public affairs with paid

subscriptions, yet even in their changed conditions they are somewhat of

an event in the winter life of a neighborhood. Everybody has the entrée

who can command the price of a ticket, though, as a rule, different

classes form coteries and dance among themselves. The country-houses for

ten or twelve miles around contribute their Christmas and New Year guests,

often a large party in two or three carriages. Political popularity is not

lost sight of, and civilities to the wives and daughters of the tradesmen

and voters often secure more support in the next election than strict

principle warrants; but though the men thus mingle with the majority of

the dancers, it is seldom the ladies leave the upper end of the hall,

where the local aristocracy holds a sort of court. In places where there

is a garrison the military are a great reinforcement to the body of

dancers and flirts. The society proper of a county-town is mostly cut up

into a small clique of clerical and professional men, with a few spinsters

of gentle eccentricity and limited means, the sisters and aunts of country

gentlemen, and a larger body of well-to-do tradesmen and their families,

including the ministers of the dissenting chapels and their families. One

of the latter may be possibly a preacher of local renown, and one of the

Anglican clergy will almost invariably be an antiquary of real merit. The

mayor and corporation belong, as a rule, to the larger set, but the

lawyers and doctors hold a neutral position and are welcomed everywhere,

partly for the sake of gossip, partly for their own individual merits.

Warwick has the additional advantage over many kindred places of the near

neighborhood of Leamington, a fashionable watering-place two miles and a

half distant, one of the mushrooms of this century, but in a practical

point of view one of the brightest and most attractive places in England.

At present it far surpasses Warwick in business and bustle, and possesses

all the adjuncts of a health-resort, frequented all the year round, and

inhabited by hundreds of resident invalids for the sake of the excellent

medical staff collected there. One of its famous physicians was often sent

for, instead of a London doctor, to the great houses within a radius of

forty or fifty miles. The assembly-rooms, hotels, baths, gardens, bridges

and shops of Leamington vie with those of the continental spas, and the

display of dress and the etiquette of society are in wonderful contrast to

the state of the quiet village fifty years ago. But it is pleasant to know

that the new town has already an endowed hospital, founded by Dr.

Warneford and called by his name, where the poor have gratuitous baths and

the best medical advice. Not content with being a centre in its own way,

Leamington has improved its prospects by setting up as a rival to Melton

Mowbray in Leicestershire, known as the "hunting metropolis." Three packs

of hounds are hunted regularly during the season within easy distance of

the town, which has also annual steeplechases and a hunting club; and this

sporting element serves to redeem Leamington from the character of masked

melancholy which often strikes a tourist in visiting a regular

health-resort.

In natural beauty Warwickshire is surpassed by other counties, but few can

boast of architectural features equally striking--such magnificent

historical memorials as Kenilworth and Warwick castles, and the humbler

beauties to be found in the houses of Stratford-on-Avon, Polesworth and

Meriden. The last is remarkable--as are, indeed, all the villages of

Warwickshire--for its picturesque beauty, and above all for the position

of its churchyard, whence lovely views are obtained of the country around.

Of Polesworth, Dugdale remarks, that, "for Antiquitie and venerable esteem

it needs not to give Precedence to any in the Countie." "There is a

charming impression of age and quiet dignity in its remains of old walls,

its remains of old trees, its church and its open common," says Dean

Howson. Close to the village, on a hill commanding a view of it, stands

Pooley Hall, whose owner in old days obtained a license from Pope Urban

VI. to build a chapel on his own land, "by Reason of the Floods at some

time, especially in Winter, which hindered his Accesse to the

Mother-Church." In the garden of this hall, a modest country-house, a type

of the ordinary run of English homes, stands a chapel--not the original

one, but built on its site--and from it one has a view of the level

ground, the village and the river, evidently still liable to floods. The

part of the county that joins Gloucestershire is rich in apple-orchards,

which I remember one year in the blossoming-time, while the early grass,

already green and wavy, fringed the foot of the trees, and by the road as

we passed we looked through hedges and over low walls into gardens full of

crocuses, snowdrops, narcissuses, early pansies and daffodils, for spring

gardens have become rather a mania in England within ten or twelve years.

Here and there older fragments of wall lined the road, and over one of

these, from a height of eight feet or so, dropped a curtain of glossy,

pointed leaves, making a background for the star-shaped yellow blossoms,

nearly as large as passion-flowers, of the St. John's-wort, with their

forest of stamens standing out like golden threads from the heart of the

blossom. At the rectory of the village in question was a very clever man,

an unusual specimen of a clergyman, a thorough man of the world and a born

actor. His father and brother had been famous on the stage, and he himself

struck one as having certainly missed his calling, though in his

appearance and manner he was as free as possible from that discontented

uneasiness with which an underbred person alone carries a burden. His

duties were punctually fulfilled and his parish-work always in order, yet

he went out a good deal and stayed at large houses, where he was much in

request for his marvellous powers of telling stories. This he did

systematically, having a notebook to help his memory as to what anecdotes

he had told and to whom, so that he never repeated himself to the same

audience. Besides stories which he told dramatically, and with a

professional air that made it evident that to seem inattentive would be an

offence, he had theories which he would bring out in a startling way,

supporting them by quotations apparently very learned, and practically,

for the sort of audience he had, irrefutable: one was on the subject of

the ark, which he averred to be still buried in the eternal snows of Mount

Ararat, and discoverable by any one with will and money to bring it to

light. As to the question of which of the disputed peaks was the Ararat of

the Bible he said nothing. This brilliant man had a passion for roses and

gardening in general, and his rectory garden was a wonder even among

clerical gardens, which, as a rule, are the most delightful and homelike

of all English gardens.

[Illustration: LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK.]

[Illustration: COVENTRY GATEWAY.]

One of Warwickshire's oldest towns and best-preserved specimens of

mediæval architecture is Coventry, famous for its legend of Lady Godiva,

still commemorated by an annual procession during the great Show Fair,

held the first Friday after Trinity Sunday and continued for eight days.

From Warwick to Coventry is a drive of ten miles, past many villages whose

windows and chimneys form as many temptations to stop and linger, but

Coventry itself is so rich in these peculiarities that a walk through its

streets is a reward for one's hurry on the road. One would suppose,

according to the saying of a ready-witted lady, that the town must be by

this time full of a large and interesting society, since so many people

have been at various times "sent to Coventry." The origin of the saying,

as an equivalent for being tabooed (itself a term of savage origin and

later date), is reported to be the deserved unpopularity of the military

there about a century ago, when no respectable woman dared to be seen in

the streets with a soldier. This led to the place being considered by

regiments as an undesirable post, since they were shunned by the decent

part of the town's-people, and to be "sent to Coventry" became, in

consequence, a synonym for being "cut." There are, however, other

interpretations of the saying, and, though this sounds plausible, it may

be incorrect. The heart of the town, once the strong-hold of the "Red

Rose," is still very ancient, picturesque and sombre-looking, though the

suburbs have been widened, "improved" and modernized to suit present

requirements. The Coventry of our day depends for its prosperity on its

silk and ribbon trade, necessitating all the appliances of looms, furnaces

and dye-houses, which give employment to a population reaching nearly

forty thousand. The continuance of prosperous trade in most of the ancient

English boroughs is a very interesting feature in their history; and

though no doubt the picturesqueness of towns is increased or preserved by

their falling into the Pompeii stage and dwindling into loneliness or

decay, one cannot wish such to be their fate. Few English towns that have

been of any importance centuries ago have gone back, though some have

stood still; and if they have lost their social prestige, the spirit of

the times has gradually made the loss of less consequence in proportion as

the importance of trade and manufactures has increased. The ribbon trade

is indeed a new one, hardly two centuries old, but Coventry was the centre

of the old national woollen industry long before. Twenty years ago, the

silk trade having languished, the queen revived the fashion of broad

ribbons, and Coventry wares became for a while the rage, just as Honiton

lace and Norwich silk shawls did at other times, chiefly through the same

example of court patronage of native industries. St. Michael's, Trinity

and Christ churches furnish the three noted spires, the first one of the

highest and most beautiful in England, and the third the remains of a Gray

Friars' convent, to which a new church has been attached. Of the ancient

cathedral (Lichfield and Coventry conjointly formed one see) only a few

ruins remain, and the same is the case with the old walls with their

thirty-two towers and twelve gates. The old hospitals and schools have

fared better--witness Bond's Hospital at Bablake (once an adjacent hamlet,

but now within the city limits), commonly called Bablake Hospital, founded

by the mayor of Coventry in the latter part of Henry VII.'s reign for the

use of forty-five old men, with a revenue of ten hundred and fifty pounds;

Ford's Hospital for thirty-five old women, a building so beautiful in its

details that John Carter the archæologist declared that it "ought to be

kept in a case;" Hales' free school, where Dugdale, the famous antiquary

and the possessor of Merivale Hall, near Warwick, received the early part

of his education; and St. Mary's Hall, built by Henry VI. for the Trinity

guild on the site of an old hall now used as a public hall and for

town-council meetings. The buildings surround a courtyard, and are entered

by an arched gateway from the street; and, says Rimmer, it is hardly

possible in all the city architecture of England to find a more

interesting and fine apartment than the great hall. The private buildings

in the old part of the town are as noticeable in their way as the public

buildings; and as many owe their origin to the tradesmen of Coventry,

formerly a body well known for its wealth and importance, they form good

indications of the taste of the ancient "city fathers." In 1448 this body

equipped six hundred men, fully armed, for the royal service, and in 1459

they were proud to receive the _Parliamentum Diabolicum_ which Henry VI.

called together within shelter of their walls, and turned to the use of a

public prosecution against the beaten party of the White Rose: hence its

name. One of the private houses, at the corner of Hertford street, bears

on its upper part an effigy of the tailor, Peeping Tom, who, tradition

says, was struck dead for impertinently gazing at Countess Godiva on her

memorable ride through the town.

[Illustration: SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY.]

The great variety in the designs of windows and chimneys, and the

disregard of regularity or conventionality in their placing, are

characteristics which distinguish old English domestic architecture, as

also the lavish use of wood-carving on the outside as well as the inside

of dwellings. No Swiss chalet can match the vagaries in wood common to the

gable balconies of old houses, whether private or public: one beautiful

instance occurs, for example, in a butcher's stall and dwelling, the only

one left of a similar row in Hereford. Here, besides the ordinary

devices, all the emblems of a slaughter-house--axes, rings, ropes, etc.,

and bulls' heads and horns--are elaborately reproduced over the doors and

balconies of the building, and the windows, each a projecting one, are

curiously wreathed and entwined. This ingeniousness in carving is a thing

unknown now, when even picture-frames are cast in moulds and present a

uniform and meaningless appearance, while as to house decoration the eye

wearies of the few paltry, often-repeated knobs or triangles which have

taken the place of the old individual carvings. The corn-market of

Coventry, the former Cross Cheaping, is another of the city's living

antiquities, as busy now as hundreds of years ago, when the magnificent

gilded cross still standing in James II.'s time, and whose regilding is

said to have used up fifteen thousand four hundred and three books of

gold, threw its shadow across the square. Even villages of a few hundred

inhabitants often possessed market-places architecturally worthy of

attention, and sometimes the covered market, open on all sides and formed

of pillars and pointed arches, supported a town-hall or rooms for public

purposes above. The crosses were by no means simply religious emblems:

though their presence aimed at reminding worldlings of religion and

investing common acts of life with a religious significance, their

purposes were mainly practical. Proclamations were read from the steps and

tolls collected from the market-people: again, they served for open-air

pulpits, and often as distributing-places for some "dole" or charity

bequeathed to the poor of the town. A fountain was sometimes attached to

them, and the covered market-crosses, of which a few remain (Beverly,

Malmesbury and Salisbury), were merely covered spaces, surmounted with a

cross, for country people to rest in in the heat or the rain, and were

generally the property of some religious house in the neighborhood. They

were usually octagonal and richly groined, and if small when considered as

a shelter, were yet generally sufficient for their purpose, as most of the

market-squares were full of covered stalls, with tents, awnings or

umbrellas, as they are to this day. The crosses were sometimes only an

eight-sided shaft ornamented with niches and surmounted by a crucifix, and

very often, of whatever shape they were, they were built _in memoriam_ to

a dead relative by some rich merchant or landlord. As objects of beauty

they were unrivalled, and improved the look of a village-green as much as

that of a busy market.

[Illustration: STREET IN COVENTRY.]

But Coventry, as I have said before, is a growing as well as an ancient

city; and when places grow they must rival their neighbors in pleasure as

well as in business, which accounts for the yearly races, now established

nearly forty years, and each year growing more popular and successful. No

doubt the share of gentlemen's houses which falls to the lot of every

county-town in England has something to do with the brilliancy of these

local gatherings: every one in the neighborhood makes it a point to

patronize the local gayeties, to belong to the local military, to enter

horses, to give prizes, to attend balls; and if politics are never quite

forgotten, especially since the suffrage has been extended and the number

of voters to be conciliated so suddenly increased, this only adds to the

outer bustle and success of these social "field-days." Coventry has a

pretty flourishing watchmaking trade, besides its staple one of

ribbon-weaving; and indeed the whole county, villages included, is given

up to manufacture: the places round Warwick and Coventry to a great extent

share in the silk trade, while Alcester has a needle manufacture of its

own, Atherstone a hat manufacture, and Amworth, which is partly in

Staffordshire, was famous until lately for calico-printing and making

superfine narrow woollen cloths: it also has flax-mills. The kings of

Mercia used to keep state here, and the Roman road, Watling Street, passed

through it, with which contrast now the iron roads that pass every place

of the least importance, and in this neighborhood lead to the busy centre

of the hardware trade, smoky, wide-awake, turbulent, educated, hard-headed

Birmingham. This, too, is within the "King-maker's" county, and how oddly

it has inherited or picked up his power will be noted by those familiar

with the political and parliamentary history of England within the last

forty years; but, though now an ultra-Radical constituency, it is no

historical upstart, but can trace its name in Domesday Book, where it

appears as _Bermengeham_, and can find its record as an English Damascus

in the fifteenth century, before which it had been already famous for

leather-tanning. The death, a year ago, of one of the most gifted though

retiring men of the English nobility, the late Lord Lyttleton, makes it

worth mentioning that his house, Hagley, stands twelve miles from

Birmingham, and that both his house and his forefathers were well known as

the home and patrons of literary men: Thomson, Pope and other poets have

described and apostrophized Hagley. The late owner was a good antiquary

and writer, but in society he was painfully shy.

[Illustration: BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY.]

The southern part of Warwickshire, adjoining Gloucestershire, or rather a

wedge of that shire advancing into Worcestershire, is the most rich,

agriculturally speaking, and besides its apple-orchards is famous for its

dairy and grazing systems, while the northern part, once a forest, is

still full of heaths, moors and woods. There is not much to say about its

farms, unless technically, nor the appearance of the farm-buildings, the

modern ones being generally of brick and more substantial than beautiful.

Country-seats have a likeness to each other, and a way of surrounding

themselves with the same kind of garden scenery, so that unless where the

whole face of Nature has some strongly-marked features, such as mountains

or moors, the houses of the local gentry do not impart a special

individuality to a neighborhood; but in a mild and blooming way one may

say that Warwickshire has a fair share of pretty country-houses and

attractive parsonages. Still, the beauty of the southern and midland

counties is altogether a beauty of detail and cultivation, of historical

association and architectural contrast; not that which in the north and

east depends much upon the beholder's sympathy with Nature unadorned--wild

stretches of seashore and pathless moors, mountain-defiles and wooded

tarns. Wales and Cornwall, again, have the stamp of a race whose

surroundings have taught them shrewdness and perseverance, and their

scenery is such that in many places, though the eye misses trees, it

hardly regrets them. In the midland counties, on the other hand, take the

trees away and the landscape would be scarcely beautiful at all, though

the land might be equally rich, undulating and productive. Half the

special beauty of England depends on her greenery, her hedges, her trees

and her gardens, in which the houses and cottages take the place of birds'

nests.

LADY BLANCHE MURPHY.

LITTLE BOY BLUE.

Childish shepherd, sleeping

Underneath the hay,

Oh would that I could whisper in your dreams,

"The sheep astray!"

Couldst thou not in Dreamland,

Pretty herdsman, pray,

With horn and crook lead gently to the fold

Thy sheep astray?

Alas for soft sweet slumber's

Mistland gold and gray,

While o'er the hilltops shimmering spirits lead

Our sheep astray!

PAUL PASTNOR.

THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878.

II.--GENERAL EXHIBITS.

The exposition under one roof of products of every kind, natural and

cultivated, mechanical and artistic, has a certain impressiveness from the

wonderful extent and variety of the assemblage, but the effect is

confusing and oppressive. The Philadelphia plan of grouping the exhibits

in separate buildings was both more pleasant to the eye and more useful to

the student. There is no place in Paris, however, affording room for

isolated buildings of sufficient aggregate area, and the Bois de Boulogne,

though immediately outside the fortified enceinte, in much the same

position, relatively, that Fairmount Park holds to Philadelphia, was

probably held to be too remote.

[Illustration: GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN

BUILDING.]

The Exposition building is too low to afford grand general views except in

the end-galleries, one of which, that toward the Seine, is occupied by

England and France, and the other, that toward the École Militaire, by

Holland and France. The four especially admirable situations for display

are under the domes at the four corners of the building, and these are

respectively occupied by the English colonies, the Dutch colonies, a

statue of Charlemagne and a trophy of French metallic work--notably, large

tubes for telescopes. The French, as most readers are aware, occupy one

half of the building, and foreigners the other, the two being divided,

except at the end-galleries, by a central court in which are the fine-art

pavilions.

Transverse divisions separate the foreigners' sections from each other,

while longitudinal divisions extending throughout the length of the

building divide the various classes of exhibits subjectively. A person may

thus cross the building and view the exhibits of a country in the

different classes, or he may go lengthwise of the building and see what

the various nations have to show in a given class. No better plan could be

devised if they are all to be assembled under one roof. The same plan has

been tried before, especially in the great elliptical building at Vienna.

It is probable that the Philadelphia plan of isolated buildings may find

imitators in the future, and then this plan of national and subjective

arrangement may be carried out without the violent contrasts incident to

sandwiching the machine galleries between the alimentary and chemical

sections.

All the exhibits are classed under nine general groups, which are--1. Fine

arts; 2. Liberal arts and education; 3. Furniture and accessories; 4.

Textile fabrics and clothing; 5. Mining industries and raw products; 6.

Machinery; 7. Alimentary products; 8. Agriculture; 9. Horticulture. The

first of these occupies the pavilions in the central court. The second and

following ones to the seventh occupy the galleries as one passes from the

central court to the exterior of the building; agricultural implements and

products are shown in spacious sheds outside the main building and within

the enclosing fence; animals are shown in a separate enclosure on the

esplanade of the Invalides. Horticulture finds a place in all the

intervals wherever there is a square yard of ground not necessary for

paths, and also on the two esplanades which divide the Palais du Champ de

Mars and the Palais Trocadéro from the river which flows between. The

subjective character of the longitudinal disposition cannot be rigorously

maintained, since nations that excel in one or another line of work or

culture are utterly deficient in others. China and Japan, for instance,

fill their galleries to overflowing with papeterie, furniture and

knickknacks, while their space in the machinery hall is principally

devoted to ceramics, a few rude implements and costumed figures.

The English pavilion in the Galérie d'Iéna consists of four wooden

structures representing Oriental mosques and kiosques, painted red and

surmounted by numerous gilded domes of the bulbous shape so characteristic

of the Indian architecture. In the order of position, as approached from

the main central doorway, the first and third are Indian, the second

Ceylonese, and the fourth is devoted to the productions of Jamaica,

Guiana, Trinidad, Trinity Island, Lagos, Seychelles, Mauritius, the Strait

Settlements and Singapore. Their contents, without attempting an

enumeration, are rather of the useful than the ornamental, with the

exception of the furniture, carpets, dresses and tissues. The Lagos

collection has a number of native drums, with snake-skin heads on bodies

carved from the solid wood, and it has also a very curious lyre of eight

strings strained by as many elastic wooden rods fastened to a box which

forms the sounding-chamber. It is individually more curious than any shown

at the Centennial from the Gold Coast, but the collection from Africa as a

whole is not nearly so full nor so fine. Mauritius has agave fibre, sugar,

shells, coral and vanilla. The Seychelles have large tortoise-shells and

the famous _cocoa de mer_, the three-lobed cocoanut peculiar to the

island, and found on the coast of India thrown up by the sea. It received

its name from that circumstance long before its home was discovered, from

whence it had been carried by the south-east monsoons. Trinity Island

sends sugar, cacao and rum; Trinidad presents sugar, asphaltum, cocoawood

and leather; Guiana has native pottery and baskets, arrow-root, sugar and

coffee.

The pavilion next to the one described has the collection sent by the

maharajah of Kashmir, consisting largely of carpets, shawls and dresses,

which look very warm in the summer weather. It shows, besides, some of the

gemmed and enamelled work and parcel-gilt ware for which that territory,

hidden away among the Himalayas, is so celebrated.

Next, as we travel along the Galérie d'Iéna, is the Ceylonese building, of

the same ruddy brown, with gilded domes, and gay with dresses, tissues and

robes of fine woven stuff made in their primitive looms, which would seem

to be incapable of turning out such textures. The addition of blocks of

graphite, some curiously carved into the shape of elephants, and the more

prosaic agricultural productions, such as cotton, cinnamon, matting and

baskets, tone down the color and exhibit the fact that the English

possession has the mercantile side. Antlers of the Ceylon deer, tusks of

elephants and boars, contrast with the richness and the sobriety of the

other contents of the overflowing pavilion.

Another Indian kiosque, and we are at the end of the row. This is filled

by the Indian committee, which also exposes its collection in twenty-nine

glass cases arranged about the hall in the vicinity of the pavilions.

[Illustration: THE CHINESE SECTION.]

The prince of Wales's collection of presents, received in his character of

heir-apparent of the empress of India, fills thirty-two glass cases,

besides six of textiles and robes. Any tolerably full account of them

would require a separate article. The interest of them culminates in the

arms. For variety, extent, gorgeousness and ethnological and artistic

value such a collection of Indian arms has never before been brought

together, not even in India; and it fairly defies description. No man was

so poor but that he could present the prince with a bow and arrow or spear

or sword or battle-axe, and in fact every one who was brought before the

prince gave him a weapon of some sort. The collection thus represents the

armorer's art in every province of India, from the rude spears of the

Nicobar Islanders to the costly damascened, chased and jewelled daggers,

swords, shields and matchlocks of Kashmir, Lahore, Gujerat, Cutch,

Hyderabad, Singapore and Ceylon. The highest interest centres upon two

swords, which are by no means the richest in their finish and settings.

One is the great sword of the famous Polygar Katabomma Naik, who defeated

the English early in the present century. It has a plain iron hilt, and

the etched blade has three holes near the point. The other is a waved

blade of splendid polish, its hilt heavily damascened with gold and its

guard closely set with diamonds and rubies. It is the sword of Savaji, the

founder of the Mahratta dominion in India. It has been sacredly guarded at

Kolhapur by two men with drawn swords for a period of two hundred years,

being a family and national heirloom, and an object of superstitious

reverence as the emblem of sovereignty. The delivery of it to the prince

of Wales was regarded as a transfer of political dominion, an admission

that the latent hopes of the Bhonsla family were now merged in loyalty to

the crown of England.

The blades of the best weapons have been made for many ages of the

magnetic iron obtained twenty miles east of Nirmul, a few miles south of

the Shisla Hills, in a hornblende or schist formation. The magnetic iron

is melted with charcoal without any flux, and obtained at once in a

perfectly tough and malleable state. It is superior to any English or

Swedish iron. It is perhaps unnecessary to remind readers that the famous

blades of Damascus were forged from Indian steel. Some of the blades are

watered, others chased in half relief with hunting-scenes--some serrated,

others flamboyant. A very striking object is a suit of armor of the horny

scales of the Indian armadillo, ornamented with encrusted gold, turquoises

and garnets. Another suit is of Kashmir chain-armor almost as fine as

lace. Others have damascened breastplates, the gold wire being inserted in

undercut lines engraved in the steel, and incorporated therewith by

hammering. Five cases are filled with the matchlocks of various tribes and

nations--one with its barrel superbly damascened in gold with a

poppy-flower pattern, another with a stock carved in ivory, with

hunting-scenes in cameo. Enamelled and jewelled mountings are seen, with

all the fanciful profusion of ornament with which the semi-barbarian will

deck his favorite weapon. The splendor of Indian arms is largely due to

the lavish use of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones,

mainly introduced for their effect in color, few of them being of great

value as gems. Stones with flaws, and others which are mere chips or

scales, are laid on like tinsel. Two cases are filled with gaudy trappings

and caparisons--horse and camel saddles with velvet and leather work, gold

embroidery and cut-cloth work (_appliqué_); an elephant howdah of silver;

chowries of yak tails with handles of sandal-wood, chased gold or carved

ivory; gold-embroidered holsters and elaborate whips which will hold no

more ornamentation than has been crowded upon them. The yak's-tail

chowries, or fly-brushes, and the fans of peacocks' feathers, are emblems

of royalty throughout the East.

The metal ware of India, shown in eight of the glass cases--some of them

the prince's and others Lord Northbrook's--affords connoisseurs great

delight, and also arrests the attention of those who have simply a delight

in beautiful forms and colors, without technical knowledge. It might not,

perhaps, occur to the casual visitor that a Jeypore plate of _champlevé_

enamel represents the work of four years. In this process the pattern is

dug out of the metal and the recess filled with enamel, while in the

cheaper _cloisonné_ the pattern is raised on the surface of the metal by

welding on strips or wire and filling in with enamel which is fused on to

the metal. A betel-leaf and perfume-service in the silver-gilt of Mysore

is accompanied by elaborately-chased goblets and rose-water sprinklers in

ruddy gold and parcel-gilt, the work of Kashmir and Lucknow. The ruddy

color is the taste of Kashmir and of Burmah, while a singular olive-brown

tint is peculiar to Scinde. Other cases have the repoussé-work of Madras,

Cutch, Lucknow, Dacca and Burmah. From Hyderabad in the Deccan is a

parcel-gilt vase, an example of pierced-work, the _opus interassile_ of

the Romans. The chased parcel-gilt ware of Kashmir occupies three cases:

it is graven through the gold to the dead-white silver below, softening

the lustre of the gold to a pearly radiance. Somewhat similar in method is

the Mordarabad ware, in which tin soldered upon brass is cut through to

the lower metal, which gives a glow to the white surface. Sometimes the

engraving is filled with lac, after the manner of niello-work. Specimens

are also shown in Bidiri ware, in which a vessel made of an alloy of

copper, lead and tin, blackened by dipping in an acidulous solution, is

covered with designs in beaten silver. A writing-case of Jeypore enamel is

perhaps the most dainty device of the kind ever seen. It is shaped like an

Indian gondola, the stern of which is a peacock whose tail sweeps under

half the length of the boat, irradiating it with blue and green enamel.

The canopy of the ink-cup is colored with green and blue and ruby and

coral-red enamels laid on pure gold.

[Illustration: THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT.]

To attempt to describe the jewelry for the person would extend to too

great a length the notice of this most remarkable and interesting exhibit,

which includes tiaras, aigrettes and pendent jewels for the forehead;

ear-rings, ear-chains and studs; nose-rings and studs; necklaces of

chains, pearls and gems; stomachers and tablets of gold studded with gems

or strung by chains of pearls and turquoises with solitaire or enamelled

pendants; armlets, bracelets, rings; bangles, anklets and toe-rings of

gold and all the jewels of the East. A Jeypore hair-comb shown in one of

the cases has a setting of emerald and ruby enamel on gold, surmounted by

a curved row of large pearls, all on a level and each tipped with a green

bead. Below is a row of small diamonds set among the green and red

enamelled gold leaves which support the pearls. Below these again is a row

of small pearls with an enamelled scroll-work set with diamonds between it

and a third row of pearls; below which is a continuous row of small

diamonds, forming the lower edge of the comb just above the gold teeth.

England's colonies make a great show at the Exposition. The Canadian

pagoda, which occupies one of the domed apartments at the corners of the

Palais, rises from a base of forty feet square, and consists of a series

of stories of gradually-decreasing area, surrounded by balconies from

which extended views of the Salle d'Iéna and the foreign machinery gallery

are obtained. The pagoda itself is occupied by Canadian exhibits, but

around it are grouped specimens of the mineral and vegetable wealth and

manufacturing enterprise of Australia and the Cape of Good Hope.

Australia, which is a continent in itself, has become of so much

importance that it is no longer content with a single or with a collective

exhibit, and the various colonies make separate displays in another part

of the building. That around the Canadian trophy is but a contribution to

a general colonial collection near the focus of the British group, where

the union jack waves above the united family.

In the Australian exhibits it is only fair to begin with New South Wales,

which is the oldest British colony on the island, and may be said to be

the mother of the others, as Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland have been

subdivided from time to time. It had a precarious political existence and

slow progress up to 1851, and the obloquy attaching to it as the penal

settlement of Botany Bay was not encouraging to a good class of settlers.

In 1851 the whole island of 3,000,000 square miles had but 300,000

inhabitants, but the discovery of gold and the utilization of the land,

for sheep and wheat especially, have so far changed the aspect of affairs

that the aggregate of land under cultivation equals 3,500,000 acres, with

52,000,000 sheep, 6,700,000 cattle, 850,000 horses, 500,000 hogs, 2092

miles of railway and 21,000 miles of telegraph.

The collection from New South Wales contains a large exhibit of the

mineral, animal and vegetable productions of the land--auriferous quartz

and gold nuggets, tin ores and ingots, copper, coal, antimony and fossils.

New South Wales prides herself especially on the surpassing quality of her

wools and on the extent of her pastoral husbandry, the number of sheep

being 25,269,755 in 1876, of cattle over 3,000,000, and of horses 366,000.

The exportation of wool in 1876 was alone equal to $28,000,000. Then,

again, she shows gums, furs, stuffed marsupials, wools, textiles, wheat

and tobacco, also many books, photographs, maps and other evidences of the

intellectual life of the people.

Victoria has so far progressed in riches and civilization that it has

turned its back upon the past, and shows principally its wheat, skins,

paraffine, wine, gold, antimony, lead, iron, tin, coal, timber, cloth and

a large range of productions which have little peculiar about them, but

are interesting in showing what a country of 88,198 square miles, with a

population of 224 persons in 1836, can attain to in forty years. It has

now 840,300 inhabitants, and exports over $56,000,000 annually. Its total

production of gold is about £200,000,000 sterling. Though one of the

smallest colonies on the mainland, it is about equal in population to

three-fourths of the sum of all the others, and its largest town,

Melbourne, with a population of 265,000, is said to be the ninth city of

the British world. Passing by the evidences of prosperity and

enterprise--which are, however, nothing but what ordinary retail houses

would show--we pause for a while at the excellent collection of native

tools and implements, and the weapons employed in war and the chase by the

aboriginal inhabitants--wooden spears of the grass tree, and, among many

others barbed for fishing and variously notched for war, one which does

not belong to Australia, but has evidently been brought from the

Philippines, and should not have been included. The same might be said of

several Fijian clubs and a Marquesas spear barbed with sharks' teeth,

which are well enough in their way, but not Victorian. The collection of

shields, clubs and boomerangs is good and is highly prized, as they are

becoming scarce in the colony, but the types prevail over the greater part

of the island continent, and no alarm need be felt about the speedy

extirpation of the natives when we think of Western Australia with 26,209

inhabitants in a territory of 1,024,000 square miles, most of it fine

forest, and consequently fertile when subdued to the uses of civilization.

[Illustration: THE CANADIAN TROPHY.]

South Australia, with its 900,000 square miles of land, extending over

twenty-seven degrees of latitude from the Indian to the Southern Ocean,

and with a width of twelve degrees of longitude, is stated to be the

largest British colony, but has a population of only 225,000. The

appearance of the South Australian Court differs from the Victorian in the

greater predominance of raw materials and the smaller proportion of

manufactures. Copper in the ore as malachite, and in metal and

manufactured forms, is one of the principal features of the court. Emeu

eggs, of a greenish-blue color and handsomely mounted in silver as

goblets, vases and boxes, are the most peculiar: they formed quite a

striking feature at the Centennial. The resemblance of the climate to that

of California is indicated in the cultivation of wheat in immense fields,

which is cut by the header and threshed on the spot, also by the enormous

size of the French pears, which grow as large as upon our Pacific coast.

The olive also is becoming a staple, as in California, and the grape is

fully acclimated and makes a very alcoholic wine. The product in 1876 was

728,000 gallons.

Western Australia is among the latest settled, and has a territory of 1280

by 800 miles, of which the so-called "settled" district has an area about

the size of France, with 26,209 inhabitants. It can hardly be considered

to be crowded yet. Its mineral exhibits are lead, copper and tin ore;

silks, whalebone; skins, those of the numerous species of kangaroo and of

the dingo or native dog predominating. The woods are principally

eucalypti, as might be supposed, but endogenous trees are found toward the

north, and are shown. Corals and large tortoise-shells show also that the

land approaches the tropics. The collection of native implements includes

waddies and boomerangs, war- and fishing-spears, shields of several

kinds--including one almost peculiar to the Australians, made very narrow

and used for parrying rather than intercepting a missile. The netted bag

of chewed bulrush-root is similar to that shown at the Centennial, but the

dugong fishing-net, made by the natives of the north-west coast from the

spinifex plant, I have not before observed. Western Australia was not

represented at the Centennial.

Queensland is the most recently established Australian colony, and

comprises the whole north-east corner--between a fourth and a fifth--of

the island. As it extends twelve degrees within the tropics, its

productions partake of a different character from those of the older

colonies, and sugar, corn and cotton are staples. The Tropic of Capricorn

crosses the middle of the province. The southern portion has 7,000,000

sheep, but the exports of the gold, copper and tin mines exceed those of

the animal and vegetable industries. The colony has the finest series of

landscapes in the Exhibition, painted upon photographs, which may be

recollected by those who visited the Centennial. The cases contain

corals, shells--especially very fine ones of the _huitre

perlière--bêche-de-mer_, so great a favorite in China for stews;

dugong-hides, with the oil and soap made therefrom; silk, tobacco, manioc,

fossils, furs and wool.

New Zealand has but a small show, but it is very peculiar. The Maoris are

a very fine race of men, both physically and intellectually, and have many

arts. The robes of New Zealand flax (_Phormium tenax_), and especially the

feather robes, evince their aptitude and taste. They are very expert

workers of wood, and their spears, canoes, feather-boxes and paddles are

elaborately carved, and frequently ornamented with grotesque faces with

eyes of shell. Their idols are peculiarly hideous, and have a remarkable

similarity in their postures and expression to those of British Columbia

in the National Museum at Washington.

The section occupied by the Cape of Good Hope is somewhat larger than that

at the Centennial, but is perhaps hardly as interesting. The wars against

the Kaffirs, and the want of harmony between the Dutch settlers and the

dominant English race, have produced an uneasy feeling not compatible with

a general interest in so distant a matter as a European exposition. The

Cape, with its dependencies, has an area of 250,000 square miles and a

population of nearly 750,000. Prominent in the collection are the

elephants' tusks and horns of the numerous species of antelope, which are

found in greater variety in South Africa than in any other part of the

world. Horns of bles-boks, spring-boks, water-boks, rooi-boks, koodoos,

elands, hartebeests and gnus ornament the walls, in company with those of

the native buffalo and the wide-reaching horns of the Cape oxen, of which

fourteen or sixteen yoke are sometimes hitched to the ponderous Dutch

wagons. Hippopotamus-teeth and ostrich-feathers indicate clearly enough

the section we are in. Maize has been fully acclimated in Africa, and mush

and milk now form the principal food of the whole Kaffir nation. It has

spread nearly all over Africa, but some central portions yet depend

entirely for farinaceous food upon the seed of the sorghum and dourra. On

the Zambesi corn in all stages of growth may be seen at all seasons of the

year.

The United States section, after all its troubles in getting under

weigh--the very appropriation itself not having been made until after the

English exhibit had all been selected, arranged on the plan and the

catalogue printed--is a collection to be proud of. The arrangement is

good, except for a little crowding. The space in the Palais is forty

thousand square feet, with thirty thousand additional in an outside

building. The latter has the agricultural implements, mills, scales,

wagons and engines, with the displays of oak and hickory in the forms of

wheels, spokes and tool-handles, which are exciting so much interest in

Europe at the present time. There is no good substitute for hickory to be

found in Europe, and it is the difference between American hickory and

English ash which causes the great disparity between the proportions of

American and English carriage-wheels. That we should copy the latter for

the sake of a fashion is marvellous.

It is not to be denied that the ingenuity and versatility of Americans

have caused them to excel other nations in many lines of manufacture. The

public opinion of Europe regards their triumphs in agricultural implements

as the most remarkable; but the nation which made the machine-tools for

the government manufactories of small-arms both of England and Germany has

established its right to the first rank in that class of work also. The

system of making by rule and gauge the separate parts, which are afterward

fitted, has come to be known as the "American system," and is exemplified

in the magnificent collection of the American Watch Company of Waltham;

the Wheeler & Wilson sewing-machine, which is the only sewing-machine with

interchangeable parts at the Exposition; the Remington rifle and shot-gun,

and the Colt revolvers.

[Illustration: INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS.]

There is nothing in the building in better taste in its line than the

Tiffany gold and silver ware, and the carriages of Brewster are generally

admired. Carriages are, however, such a matter of fashion that an exhibit

of that kind cannot suit all nations, and what one considers graceful is

to another strange and bizarre. There is no question of the fine quality,

however: of course a nation with elm for hubs and ash for spokes wonders

at American temerity in making wheels so light, and the casual observer

thinks our roads must be better than the European to justify them. As one

English builder has, however, contracted lately with an American firm for

five hundred sets of wheels, they will have an opportunity soon of testing

the quality of our woods.

The exhibition of fine locks and of house-furnishing hardware is justly

considered as among our triumphs, the Yale, Wheeler-Mallory and Russell &

Erwin manufacturing companies being notable in this line. The saws of

Disston have no equals here: the axes of Collins & Douglas, the forks and

spades and other agricultural tools of Ames, Batcheller and the Auburn

Manufacturing Company are unapproached by the English and French. The

wood-working machine of Fay & Co. and the machine-tools of Darling Browne

& Sharpe challenge competition.

These are not a tithe of the objects in regard to which we are proud to

have comparisons instituted; and in some of the less ponderous articles,

such as Foley's gold pens and White's dental tools and dentures, we have

the same reason for national gratulation. Such being the case, we feel

reconciled to the comparative smallness of our space, which has precluded

as much repetition in most lines of manufacture as we find in the exhibits

of other nations.

Our agricultural machinery is well though not fully represented. Reapers

and mowers, horse-rakes, grain-drills and ploughs are abundantly or

sufficiently shown--harrows and rollers not at all; and if they had been,

they would have added nothing to the English and French knowledge on the

subject. Owing to the exigences of space, weighing-scales and pumps are

included in the agricultural building, and the exhibition of Fairbanks &

Co. deserves and receives cordial approval.

The problem of the day in agricultural machinery is the automatic binder,

and eight efforts in that line are shown at the Exposition--six from

America and two from England. The subject of machinery, however, is

deferred for the present, but in speaking of general exhibits one cannot

avoid a slight reference to that feature which is so prominent in the

United States section.

Where there is so much that is beautiful and admirably arranged it seems

ungenerous to cite failures, but the pavilion in the eastern corner of the

Palais and the Salle de l'École Militaire connecting it with the pavilion

of the Netherlands colonies are very disappointing. The French exhibit of

sheet-metal work in the eastern corner is quite remarkable, but its merit

in an industrial point of view scarcely authorizes the prominence that is

given to it in one of the four grand positions for display which the

building affords. Even the Galéries d'Iéna and de l'École Militaire across

the ends of the building, although their ceilings are high and gorgeous

with color, and their sides one mass of windows in blue and white panes,

do not afford such striking positions as the four corner pavilions. One

expected, very naturally, that so admirable a position would be made the

most of by a people of fine artistic sense; and this has been done in two

of the other similar situations by the Netherlands colonies' trophy and

the Canadian pagoda. The Charlemagne statue, which occupies the fourth

pavilion, has so much sheet-metal work around it that it is not worthy to

be classed with these. In the sheet-metal pavilion we see admirable

exploitation of sheet brass, copper and iron in the shape of

telescope-tubes, worms for stills, bodies and coils for boilers,

vacuum-pans, wort-refrigerators and various bent and contorted forms which

evince the excellence of the material and of the methods. This is hardly

enough, however, to justify the occupation of the position of vantage, and

the trumpery collection of ropes, lines, nets, rods and hooks which is

intended for a fishing exhibit only emphasizes the decision, acquiesced in

by the public, which pays it no attention.

The same is true--in not quite so great a degree, however--of the Galérie

de l'École Militaire, which is principally devoted to, and very

inefficiently occupied by, a number of stands at which cheap jewelry,

meerschaum pipes, glass-blown ships, ivory boxes and paper-knives,

artificial flowers and stamped cards are made and sold as souvenirs of the

Exposition. In addition to these, and several grades better, are a couple

of Lahore shawlmakers, dusky Asiatics, engaged with native loom and needle

in making the shawls for which India is celebrated. Then we have a

jacquard loom worked by manual power, and the large embroidering-machine

of Lemaire of Naude, and the diamond-workers of Amsterdam working in a

glazed room which affords an excellent opportunity of seeing them without

subjecting them to the annoyance of meddlesome visitors.

As if for contrast, the Galérie d'Iéna at the other end of the building is

replete with the most gorgeous productions of India and France. One half

of it is occupied by the Indian collection of the prince of Wales and the

exhibits of the East and West Indian colonies of Great Britain, just

described--the other half by a pavilion, the recesses of which show the

Gobelin tapestries, while the richest productions of Sèvres are placed in

profusion around it and occupy pedestals and niches wherever they could be

properly placed. The combined effect of the individual richness of the

things themselves and their lavish profusion constitutes this gallery the

gem of the Exhibition. As if the thousands of gems on the gold and silver

vessels and richly-mounted weapons and shields of the prince of Wales's

collection were not rich enough, a kiosque has been erected in which the

state jewels of France are displayed on velvet cushions, conspicuous among

them being the "Pitt Diamond," the history of which is too well known to

need repetition here.

The models, plans and raised maps of the hydraulic works of Holland are

ever wonderful. They are principally the same that were exhibited in the

Main Building at the Centennial, but there are some additional ones. All

other drainage enterprises sink into insignificance beside those of

Holland. Since 1440 they have gradually extended until they include an

area of 223,062 acres drained by mechanical means. The drainage of the

Haarlem Meer (45,230 acres), which was the last large work completed, is

abundantly illustrated here, both as to the canalization and the engines,

the latter of which are among the largest in the world. The engines are

three in number, and the cylinders of the annular kind, the outer ones

twelve feet in diameter, and each engine lifting 66 tons of water at a

stroke: in emergencies each is capable of lifting 109 tons of water at a

stroke to a height of 10 feet at a cost of 2-1/4 pounds of coal per

horse-power per hour--much cheaper than oats: 75,000,000 pounds are raised

1 foot high by a bushel of coal. The next great work is the drainage of

the southern lobe of the Zuyder Zee, the plans for which have been made

and the work commenced. It is estimated that the mean depth is 13 feet,

and that by a multitude of engines the water may be removed at the rate of

1 foot of depth per annum. Some 800,000,000 tons were pumped out of the

Haarlem Meer, but that work will be dwarfed by the new enterprise.

The Dutch system of mattresses, gabions, revetting and sea-walls have

furnished models for all the continents, the mouths of the Danube and the

Mississippi being prominent instances. The railway bridge over the Leek,

an arm of the Rhine, at Kuilinburg in Holland, is an iron truss, and the

principal span has the same length as the middle arch of the St. Louis

bridge--515 feet. It is shown here by models and plans.

The largest and most instructive ethnological exhibit from any country at

the Exposition is that from the Netherlands colonies in the East and West

Indies. The Oriental forms by far the larger portion of it, and has an

imposing trophy in one of the four most advantageous positions in the

building. The base of the apartment is about one hundred and forty feet

square, and the domed ceiling at a height of one hundred and fifty feet

rises from a square tower whose sides are round-topped windows of blue and

white glass in chequerwork. These give full illumination and a gay

appearance to the spacious hall, in which the trophy rises to a height of

eighty feet. The pyramidal structure has an octagonal base of forty feet

diameter with inclined faces, from which rises a second octagonal portion

of smaller size. A series of steps above this is crowned with a conical

sheaf of palm-stems, whose fronds make an umbrella of twenty feet

diameter. The peak is a pinnacle of bamboos, with a Dutch flag pendent in

the still atmosphere of the hall. From each angle and side of the octagon

radiates a table, and these are lavishly covered with specimens of the

arts and manufactures of Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes and other of the

Dutch colonial possessions in the Malay seas. Here are models of the

junks, proas and fishing-craft, each structure pegged together and

destitute of nails. The large mat sails depend from yards of bamboo; the

rudders are large oars, one over each counter; the decks are roofed with

bamboo, ratan and the inevitable nipa-palm leaves. The smaller craft, made

of hollow tree-trunks, have the double outrigger, and the finer ones have

shelters of bamboo and palm-leaf. The fishing-craft have large dip-nets

suspended from bamboo poles by cords, which allow them to be drawn up when

a passing school of fish is observed by a man perched above.

On another table are models of the fishing-weirs and traps made of poles

which must be forty feet long in the originals, and are driven closely

alongside each other so as to enclose and detain the fish, which may enter

at the funnel-shaped mouth, whose divergent sides are presented up stream.

On the bamboo piles are the floors supporting the palm-leaf shelters of

the fishing family, and upon the various parts of the structure lie the

spears, rods and nets by which the fish are withdrawn from the inner pond,

which it is so easy to enter and so hard to escape from. Various forms of

weirs are shown, and a multitude of fish-baskets, whose conical entrances

obligingly expand to the curious fish, but only present points to him when

he seeks to return. Bamboo and ratan, whole or split, afford the materials

for all these baskets and cages.

Other tables have the land-structures, from the elaborately-carved wooden

bungalow with tiled roof of the residency of Japara in Java to the bamboo

hut with palm-leaf sides and roofs of the maritime Dyaks of Borneo. Here

we have a bazaar of Banda, and there a hut of the indigenes of Buitzenzorg

in the interior of the fertile island of Java. Among the rudest houses

shown are those of Celebes, that curious island, larger than Britain,

which seems to rival the sea-monster, with its arms sprawling upon the

map. One house on stilts is fitted up with a complete equipment of musical

instruments, the wooden and brass harmonicons with bars or inverted pans

resting upon strings and beaten with mallets. Here also is a

weighing-machine for sugar products, the floor resting upon the shorter

beam of a lever, while the long arm extends far out of doors.

Rice-granaries elevated on posts above the predatory vermin are shown in

various forms, and are set in water-holes to guard against the still more

obnoxious ants, which are not content with the grain, but eat house and

all.

Another table has implements of agriculture--ploughs, harrows, rakes,

carts, sleds, all as innocent of metal as the oxen which draw the various

instruments; wheels for irrigation made of bamboo, both frame and buckets;

various cutting, weeding and grubbing implements, made by a sort of rude

Catalan process from the native iron ore. The plough is a little better

than that of Egypt of three thousand years ago, and the sickle is

inferior. When Sir Stamford Raffles, who was governor during the short

control of Java by the British, asked why they used the little primitive

bent knife (_ana-ana_) which severs from the stalk but a few heads of rice

at a time, they answered that if they presumed to do otherwise their next

crop would be blasted.

One of the tables, however, furnishes a grave disappointment. It is an

innocent-looking suspension bridge, the middle third of which is

supported by a series of piles and the floor roofed in with canes and

palm-leaves. It is a model of a bridge over the Boitang Toro, and one

expects to find it of the ratan which is of general use and grows two

hundred and fifty feet long; but no: it is of telegraph wire! So much for

the intrusion of modern devices when one is revelling in one of the most

interesting ethnological exhibits ever gathered. We have, however, but to

turn round to be consoled. Here is the roller cotton-gin, which was

doubtless used in India before the conquests of Alexander. Then we have

the spinning-wheel, which differs in no important respect from that of

England in the thirteenth century, and is similar to, but ruder than, that

used by our great-grandmothers, when "spinster" meant something, and a

girl brought to the home of her choice a goodly array of linen. This was

before cotton was king, and before factories were known either for cotton,

flax or wool. Was it a better day than the present, or no? Things work

round, and the roller-gin is now the better machine, having in the most

perfected processes supplanted the saw-gin. This may be news to some, but

will be admitted by those who have examined what the present Exposition

has to show. Here also is the bow for bowing the cotton, the original

cotton-opener and cleaner. We cannot, either, omit the reeling mechanism

for the thread nor the looms of simple construction, which can by no means

cost over a couple of dollars and yet make fine check stuffs, good cotton

ginghams. Perhaps we might allow another dollar for the reed with its six

hundred dents of split ratan.

[Illustration: TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES.]

Curious and bizarre chintzes are shown in connection with the machinery,

and some doubtless made by the processes described by Pliny eighteen

hundred years ago. Other calicoes are made by at least two processes which

are comparatively modern in England, but certainly two thousand years old

in Asia. One is the direct application of a dye-charged stamp upon the

goods. Another is known by us as the _resist_ process, and consists in

printing with a material which will exclude the dye; then putting the

goods in the dye-tub; subsequently washing out the resist-paste, when the

stamped pattern shows white on a colored ground. Some of the pieces of

calico make me suspect the _discharge_ process also, in which a piece of

goods, having been dyed, is stamped in patterns with a material which has

the faculty of making the dye fugitive, when washing causes the pattern to

appear white on a colored ground.

We have not quite done with these tables. There are two great resources of

a people besides work--love and war. "If music be the food of Love, play

on." But will playing on the instruments of Java and other islands of

those warm seas conduce to the object? The _gamelan_, or set of native

band instruments, has one stringed instrument, several flageolets, a

number of wood and metal harmonicons and inverted bronze bowls, all played

with mallets: there are also gongs of various sizes, bells and a drum. The

metal harmonicon is known in Javanese language as the _gambang_, and I

have no better name to propose. The leader's instrument is the

two-stringed fiddle (_rebab_), almost exactly the same as the Siamese

_sie-saw_, which is also admirably named. Among the _gambangs_ at the

Exposition is a wooden harmonicon with twenty bars, and seven bronze

harmonicons with bars varying greatly in size and shape, and consequently

in tone, and in number from eight to twenty-one in an instrument. The

mallets also vary in weight. The _bonang_ is an instrument with inverted

bronze bowls resting on ratans and struck with mallets. They are of

various sizes and thickness, and corresponding tone and quality, and are

arranged in sets of fourteen, two rows of seven each, on a low bench like

a settee. They vary in one from twenty to twenty-four centimètres in

diameter, and in the other from twenty-seven to thirty-two. They are

intended, doubtless, to agree with the chromatic scale of the island, but

are faulty on the fourth and seventh, as it seems to me, and yet, contrary

to Raffles, Lay and other writers, are not pentatonic, in which the fourth

and seventh are rejected altogether and no semi-tones are used. There is

no doubt that the pentatonic is the musical scale of all Malaysia, and

probably of all China; and none also that the diatonic, almost universal

in Europe, is the musical scale of portions of India. What conclusions of

ethnologic import may be drawn from this cannot here be more than

suggested, but the latter fact seems to bear upon the association of the

Hindoos with ourselves in the great Aryan family, Our _do, ré, mi, fa,

sol, la, si, do_ correspond with the Hindoo _sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha, ni,

sa_, and the intervals are the same--two semi-tones, of which the

Malaysian is destitute. The Hindoos have also terms in their language for

the tonic, mediant and dominant, so that they know something of harmony,

of which the Malays seem quite ignorant.

The flageolets from Java are all made on the principle of the boy's elder

whistle, but have finger-holes--generally six, but sometimes only four.

Two bamboo jewsharps--as I suppose I must call them--about a foot long,

and with a string to fasten to the ear, as it seems, are much like two

from Fiji in the Smithsonian. There are plenty of drums from Amboyna,

Timor and the islands adjacent. The most unpromising and curious of all,

however, is the _anklong_ of Sumatra, which is all of bamboo, and has

neither finger-holes, keys, strings nor parchment. Three bamboo tubes,

closed below, are suspended vertically, so that studs at their lower ends

rattle in holes in a horizontal bamboo. This causes them to emit musical

sounds of a pitch proportioned to their length, as in an organ-pipe. The

respective lengths of the three tubes are as one, two and four, so that

the note of two is an octave graver than one, and that of four an octave

graver still. Thus, when they are shaken the sounds are in accord. Twelve

similar sets of three each are suspended from a single bar, and their

lengths are so proportioned that they sound the musical scale--the three

in the first frame, we will say, sounding the tenor C, the middle C and

the C in the third space in the treble clef; the next set the

corresponding D's above, and so on. It really does not sound so badly as

one might suppose.

Here is a table, conchological, entomological and ornithological, which

might stay us a while if we were making a catalogue. A conch-shell twenty

inches long and ten in diameter will do for a sample--not a small

gasteropod! They do not excel us so much in butterflies as I had expected,

but some of the beetles are fearful things--six inches long, and with

veritable arms on their heads each five inches long, with elbow-joint,

wrist and two claws on the end of a single finger. Next is a praying

mantis, a foot long and with double-jointed arms like the beetles,

That lifts his paws most parson-like, and thence

By simple savages, through mere pretence,

Is reckoned quite a saint amongst the vermin.

Other tables have weapons, shoes, table-furniture and knickknacks.

After this environment we have small space for the trophy itself. It is

gorgeous with tiger and leopard skins, and with the weapons of the hill

and maritime tribes under the Dutch sway, and a profusion of the ruder

implements of the less accessible regions whose inhabitants only

occasionally show themselves in the settlements. We see in this most

interesting collection spoons and knives made from the leg-bones of

native buffaloes and of deer; wooden battleaxes with inserted blades of

jade; spears of bamboo and of cocoawood tip-hardened in the fire; arrows

of reed with poisoned wooden tips; swords of dark and heavy cocoawood;

shields of wood hewed with patient care from the solid log; wooden clubs;

water-jars of a single section of bamboo and holding twelve gallons; gourd

bottles, grass slippers, bark clothing, plaintain hats, cows'-tail plumes;

and a host more which may be omitted. On the various faces of the

structure and upon the steps are profusely arranged the various objects,

over which the canopy of palm gracefully towers.

All that has been described occupies the central space beneath the dome.

Around it and occupying the corners are a thousand specimens of wood,

canes, fibres, seeds, gum, wax, resins, teas, hideous theatrical figures,

savage weapons, rich fabrics, filigrain jewelry and tea-services. Here

also are pigs of tin from regions famous for it twenty centuries ago,

blocks of native building stones, minerals, ores and agates. Here are

models of mining-works, smelting-sheds, sugar-houses, plans and maps.

On one side, occupying a very modest space, are contributions from Guiana,

exemplifications of the habits, methods and productions of the

country--manioc-strainers and baskets, river-boats, animals, woods,

minerals, fruits and tobacco. Figures of a negro and negress of Paramaibo

propped against the counter seem utterly lost at the sights around.

EDWARD H. KNIGHT.

"FOR PERCIVAL."

CHAPTER XLII.

WALKING TO ST. SYLVESTER'S.

[Illustration]

Bertie Lisle was sorely driven and perplexed for a few days after his

triumphant performance on the organ. His letter was not a failure, but

further persuasion was required to make his success complete; and during

the brief interval he was persecuted by Gordon's brother.

Mr. William Gordon, when amiable and flattering, had an air of rough and

hearty friendliness which was very well as long as you held him in check.

But when, though still amiable, he thought he might begin to take

liberties, it was not so well. He was hard, coarse-tongued and humorous.

And when Mr. William Gordon had the upper hand he showed himself in his

true colors, as a bully and a blackguard. Bertie Lisle, not yet

two-and-twenty, was no match for this man of thirty-five. He owed him

money--no great sum, but more than he could pay. Now that matters had come

to this pass, Lisle was heartily ashamed of himself, his debts and his

associates; but the more shame he felt the more anxious he was that

nothing should be known. He had sought the society of these men because he

had wearied of the restraints of his home-life. Judith checked and

controlled him unconsciously through her very guilelessness. He might have

had his liberty in a moment had he chosen, but the assertion of his right

would have involved explanations and questions, and Bertie hated scenes.

He found it easier to coax Lydia than to face Judith.

But this state of affairs could not go on. Bertie had once fancied that he

saw a possible way out of his difficulties, and had hinted to Gordon, with

an air of mystery, that though he could not pay at once he thought he

might soon be in a position to pay all. If he hoped to silence his

creditors for a while with this vague promise, he was mistaken. Gordon

continually reminded him of it. He had not cared to inquire into the

source of the coming wealth, but if Lisle meant to rob somebody's till or

forge Mr. Clifton's name to a cheque, no doubt Gordon thought he might as

well do it and get it over. If you are going to take a plunge, what, in

the name of common sense, is the good of standing shivering on the brink?

Unluckily, Lisle's idea presented difficulties on closer inspection. But

as he had gone so far that it was his only hope, he made up his mind to

risk all. He saw but one possible way of carrying out his scheme. It was

exactly the way which no cautious man would ever have dreamed of taking,

and therefore it suited the daring inexperience of the boy. Therefore,

also, it was precisely what no one would dream of guarding against. In

fact, Bertie was driven by stress of circumstances into a stroke of

genius. He took his leap, and entered on a period of suspense, anxiety and

sustained excitement which had a wild exhilaration and sense of

recklessness in it. He suffered much from a strong desire to burst into

fits of unseasonable laughter. His nerves were so tensely strung that it

might have been expected he would be irritable; and so he was sometimes,

but never with Judith.

Thorne listened night after night for the man with the latch-key, but he

listened in vain. He was only partly reassured, for he feared that matters

were not going on well at St. Sylvester's. Indeed, he knew they were not,

for Bertie had strolled into his room one day with a face like a

thundercloud. The young fellow was out of temper, and perhaps a little off

his guard in consequence. When Gordon amused himself by baiting him, Lisle

was forced to keep silence; but in this case it was possible, if not quite

prudent, to allow himself the relief of speech.

"What is the matter?" said Percival, looking up from his book.

Bertie, who had turned his back on him, stood looking out of the window

and tapping a tune on the pane. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "Clifton

has taken it into his stupid head to lecture me about some rubbish he has

heard somewhere. Why doesn't some one lock him up in an idiot asylum? The

meddling fool!"

"If that is qualification enough--" Thorne began mildly, but Bertie raged

on:

"What business is it of his? I'm not going to stand his impudence, as I'll

precious soon let him know. A likely story! He didn't buy me body and soul

for his paltry salary, though he seems to think it. The old humbug in a

cassock! It's a great deal of preaching and very little practice with him,

_I_ know."

(He knew nothing of the kind. Mr. Clifton was a well-meaning man, who had

never disturbed his mind by analyzing his own opinions nor any one else's,

and who worked conscientiously in his parish. But no doubt Bertie had too

much respect for truth to let it be mixed up with a fit of ill-temper.)

"Take care what you are about," said Percival as he turned a leaf. He

looked absently at the next page. "I don't want to interfere with you--"

"Oh, _you!_ that's different," said Lisle without looking round. "Not that

I should recommend even you--"

"Don't finish: I hope the caution isn't needed. Of course you will do as

you think best. You are your own master, but I know you'll not forget that

it is a question of your sister's bread as well as your own. That's all.

If you can do better for her--"

Bertie half smiled, but still he looked out of the window, and he did not

speak. Presently the fretful tapping on the pane ceased, and he began to

whistle the same tune very pleasantly. At last, after some time, the tune

stopped altogether. "I believe I'm a fool," said Lisle. "After all, what

harm can Clifton do to me? And, as you say, it would be a pity to make

Judith uneasy. Bless the stupid prig! he shall lecture me again to-morrow

if he likes. He hasn't broken any bones this time, and I dare say he won't

the next." The young fellow came lounging across the room with his hands

in his pockets as he spoke. "I suppose he has gone on preaching till it's

his second nature. Talk of the girl in the fairy-tale dropping toads and

things from her lips! Why, she was a trifle to old Clifton. I do think he

can't open his mouth without letting a sermon run out."

Thorne was relieved at the turn Bertie's meditations had taken, but he

could not think that the young fellow's position at St. Sylvester's was

very secure. Neither did Judith. Neither did Bertie himself. The thought

did not trouble him, but Judith was evidently anxious.

"You do too much," said Percival one day to her. They were walking to St.

Sylvester's, and Bertie had run back for some music which had been

forgotten.

"Perhaps," said Judith simply. "But it can't be helped."

"What! are they all so busy at Standon Square?"

"Well, the holidays, being so near, make more work, and give one the

strength to get through it."

"I'm not so sure of that. I'm afraid Miss Crawford leaves too much to you,

and you will break down."

"I'm more afraid Miss Crawford will break down. Poor old lady! it goes to

my heart to see her. She tries so hard not to see that she is past work;

and she is."

"Is she so old? I didn't know--"

"She was a governess till she was quite middle-aged, and then she had

contrived to scrape together enough to open this school. My mother was her

first pupil, and the best and dearest of all, she says. She had a terribly

up-hill time to begin with, and even now it is no very great success.

Though she might do very well, poor thing! if they would only let her

alone."

"And who will not let her alone?"

"Oh, there is a swarm of hungry relations, who quarrel over every

half-penny she makes; and she is so good! But you can understand why she

is anxious not to think that her harvest-time is over."

"Poor old lady!" said Percival. "And her strength is failing?"

Judith nodded: "She does her best, but it makes my heart ache to see her.

She comes down in the morning trying to look so bright and young in a

smart cap and ribbons: I feel as if I could cry when I see that cap, and

her poor shaky hands going up to it to put it straight." There were tears

in the girl's voice as she spoke. "And her writing! It is always the bad

paper or the bad pen, or the day is darker than any day ever was before."

"Does she believe all that?" the young man asked.

"I hardly know. I think she never has opened her eyes to the truth, but I

suspect she feels that she is keeping them shut. It is just that trying

not to see which is so pathetic, somehow. I find all manner of little

excuses for doing the writing, or whatever it may happen to be, instead of

her, and then I see her looking at me as if she half doubted me."

"Does the school fall off at all?"

"I'm not sure. Schools fluctuate, you know, and it seems they had scarlet

fever about six months ago. That might account for a slight decrease in

the numbers: don't you think so?"

"Oh, certainly," said Percival, with as much confidence as if

boarding-school statistics had been the one study of his life. "No doubt

of it."

They walked a few paces in silence, and then Judith said, "Perhaps she

will be better after the holidays. I think she is very tired, she is so

terribly drowsy. She drops asleep directly she sits down, and is quite

sure she has been awake all the time. I'm so afraid the girls may take

advantage of it some day."

"But even for Miss Crawford's sake you must not do too much," urged

Percival.

"I will try not. But it is such a comfort to me to be able to help her! If

it were not for that, I sometimes question whether I did wisely in coming

here at all."

"If it is not an impertinent question--though I rather think it is--what

should you have done if you had not come?"

"I should have stayed with an aunt of mine. She wanted me, but she would

not help Bertie, and I fancied that I could be of use to him. But I doubt

if I can do him much good, and if I lost my situation I should only be a

burden to him."

"Perhaps that might do him more good than anything," Percival suggested.

"He might rise to the occasion and take life in earnest, which is just

what he wants, isn't it? For any one can see how fond he is of you."

"He's a dear boy," Judith answered with a smile, and looked over her

shoulder. The dear boy was not in sight.

"Plenty of time," said Percival. "But it is rather a long way for him, so

often as he has to go to St. Sylvester's."

"He doesn't mind that. He says he can do it in less than ten minutes, only

to-day he had to go back, you see."

"It isn't so far as it would be to St. Andrew's," Thorne went on. "By the

way, have you ever been to your parish church?"

"Never. I don't think your description was very inviting."

"Oh, but it would be worth while to go once. The first time I went I

thought it was like a quaint, melancholy dream. Such a dim, hollow, dusty

old building, and little cherubs with grimy little marble faces looking

down from the walls. When the congregation began to shuffle in each

new-comer was more decrepit and withered than the last, till I looked to

see if they could really be coming through the doorway from the outer

world, or whether the vaults were open and they were the ghosts of some

dead-and-gone congregation of long ago. And when I looked round again,

there was the clergyman in a dingy surplice, as if he had risen like a

spectre in his place. He stared at us all with his dull old eyes, and

turned the leaves of a great book. And all at once he began to read, in a

piping voice so thin and weak that it sounded just like the echo of some

former service--as if it had been lost in the dusty corners, and was

coming back in a broken, fragmentary way. It was all the more like an echo

because the old clerk is very deaf, and he begins in a haphazard fashion

when he thinks it is time for the other to have done. So sometimes there

is a long pause, and then you have their two old voices mixed up together,

like an echo when it grows confused. It is very strange--gives one all

manner of quaint fancies. You should go once. Nothing could be more

utterly unlike St. Sylvester's."

"I think I will go," said Judith. "I know a church something like that,

only not quite so dead. There is a queer old clerk there too."

"Where is that?"

"Oh, it isn't anywhere near here. A little old-fashioned country

town--Rookleigh."

Percival turned eagerly: "Where did you say? _Rookleigh_?"

"Yes. Why, do you know anything of it?"

"Tell me what you know of it."

"My aunt, Miss Lisle, lives there--the aunt I was telling you about, who

wanted me to stay with her."

"And you were there last summer?"

"Yes. In fact, I was there on a visit when I heard that--that our home was

broken up. I stayed on for some time: I had nowhere to go."

"Miss Lisle lives in a red house by the river-side," said Percival,

prompted by a sudden impulse.

It was Judith's turn to look surprised: "Yes, she does. But, Mr. Thorne,

how do you know?"

"The garden slopes to the water's edge," he went on, not heeding her. "And

there is a wide gravel-path down the middle, cutting it exactly in two. It

is all very neat--it is wonderfully neat--and Miss Lisle comes down the

path, looking right and left to see whether all the carnations and the

chrysanthemum-plants are tied up properly, and whether there are any

snails."

"Mr. Thorne, who told you--? No, you must have seen."

"But you didn't walk with her. There was a cross-path behind some

evergreens."

"Yes," said Judith: "I hated to be seen then. I couldn't go beyond the

garden, and I used to walk backward and forward there, so many times to a

mile--I forget how many now. But, Mr. Thorne, tell me, how do you know all

this?"

"It is simple enough," he said. "I was at Rookleigh one day, and I

strolled along the path by the river. You can see the house from the

farther side. I stood and looked at it."

"Yes, but how did you know whose house it was?"

"I hadn't the least idea. But it took my fancy--why I don't know. And

while I was looking I saw that some one came and went behind the

evergreens."

"Then it was only a guess when you began to describe it?"

"Well, I suppose so. It must have been, mustn't it?" he said, looking

curiously at her. "But it felt like a certainty."

They were just at St. Sylvester's, and Bertie ran up panting, waving his

music. "Lucky I've not got to sing," said the young fellow in a jerky

voice, and rushed to the vestry-door, where Mr. Clifton fidgeted, watch in

hand. After such a race it was natural enough that the young organist

should be somewhat flushed as he went up the aisle with a surpliced boy at

his heels. But Judith had not hurried--had rather lingered, looking back.

What was the meaning of that soft rosy glow upon her cheeks? And why was

Thorne so absent, standing up and sitting down mechanically, till the

service was half over before he knew it?

He was recalling that day at Rookleigh--the red houses by the water-side,

the poplars, the pigeons, the old church, the sleepy streets, the hot blue

sky, the gray glitter of the river through the boughs, and the girl half

seen behind the evergreens. She had been to him like a fair faint figure

in a dream, and the airy fancies that clustered round her had been more

dreamy yet. But suddenly the dream-girl had stepped out of the clouds into

every-day life, and stood in flesh and blood beside him. And the nameless

fascination with which his imagination had played was revealed as the

selfsame attraction as that which his soul had known when, years before,

he first met Judith Lisle.