multifarious are the indications in the same direction. The shilling
razor is now a really serviceable article, made to shave as well
as to sell (the gross of green spectacles, bought by the Vicar of
Wakefield's son Moses, were, as we all remember, made to sell only).
Shilling telescopes are in the windows, as are shilling thermometers
and shilling microscopes; shilling spectacles are to be had by those
who need them, and shilling eyeglasses by fast gents who do not. The
smallest retailed portions of some beverages are priced a shilling, as
are the largest of others. A shilling, paid by a simpleton of either
sex, purchases a mystic delineation of character from handwriting. When
the verger or some other official has shewn you the architectural and
monumental curiosities of a cathedral; or an old dame has escorted you
through the ruins of an abbey or castle, telling her tale of marvel as
she goes; or a domestic has taken you through the principal rooms of
an old country mansion--a shilling is, more frequently than any other
coin, the _honorarium_ awarded. Shilling hat clubs, clothes clubs,
coal clubs, goose clubs, watch clubs, &c. are rather plentiful in the
metropolis--speculations in which working-men think they lay out their
money to advantage; but do they? The shilling has been long used by the
recruiting sergeant wherewith to secure fresh additions to the ranks.
A shilling dinner, provided by a 'Restaurant Company, Limited,' had a
struggle for existence some time back; but beef at tenpence a pound put
an end to it. A shilling is (practically) the smallest cab fare. Oaths,
till lately (we hope they are not so now), were a shilling each in some
judicial proceedings, and, not unfrequently, dear at the price.
Nor are fine-art and professional investments any less within the
influence of the mighty shilling. There are many varieties of the
Shilling Art Union, in which persons do a little quiet lottery-gambling
under the guise of art. Shilling lessons in various accomplishments are
given by persons whose pecuniary means are not up to the level of their
professional aspirations. A shillingworth of postage-stamps, if you
believe the advertisers (which you had better not), will initiate you
into 'a light and genteel employment.' Shilling photographs constitute
quite a world in themselves in our shop windows; and it is amusing to
see the impartiality with which princesses, bishops, swimming-men, pets
of the ballet, poets, clergymen, criminals, tragic actresses, monastic
brothers, acrobatic brothers, and opera stars are admitted. Shilling
photographs are to be had so minute that a shilling microscope is
necessary to render them visible.
Little less general and varied is the announcement 'Admission One
Shilling.' There may be select accommodation at higher terms in some
instances, and 'back seats' at lower terms in others; but a shilling
marks the most prevalent charge. We have pretty well outlived the
shilling panoramas, dioramas, cosmoramas, and needlework exhibitions;
nevertheless, a constantly increasing supply of other kinds tempts the
public. The Royal Academy, the summer and winter exhibitions at the
British Institution, the French Gallery, the German Gallery, several
watercolour exhibitions, are each 'One Shilling;' as are likewise
special pictures of note, and the collected works of particular
artists. If we long for a little science made easy, a shilling will
unlock the gates of the Polytechnic Institution, the Zoological
Gardens, Westminster Aquarium, and many another place. Perhaps the
best shillingworth is the Crystal Palace; but it is only necessary to
glance down the advertising columns of the daily papers to see how
varied are the temptations of a similar kind, all alike in this if
in no other particular--that a shilling secures admission to any and
all. Shilling promenade concerts are quite notable; while classical
and choral concerts are likewise brought within the same category.
Shilling 'Entertainments,' as they are called--neither theatres nor
operas, neither exhibitions nor concerts, but comprising something of
two or more of these--are now so numerous amongst us that they cannot
easily be counted: black (or blackened) minstrels, Psychos and other
automata, conjurers, music-halls, monopolologue entertainments, Tom
Thumbs, 'Two-headed Nightingales,' &c.
These characteristics of everyday life and its doings are to a
considerable extent applicable to most of the great towns of England;
but we are treating them in special relation to the widely stretching
and ever-growing metropolis. And this leads us to draw attention to
a circumstance which renders shilling entertainments and amusements
more and more accessible every year. In days which some among us will
remember, London attractions were available to few except those who
for the time sojourned within its limit. No suburban railway trains,
few suburban omnibuses, and still fewer stage-coaches, there was a
deficiency in the means for bringing the public to the central regions
of the metropolis, and of taking them home again when the day's
pleasuring was ended. It is not too much to say that, for all practical
purposes of locomotion, Kensington and Westbourne, Kennington and
Walworth, Hackney and Stepney, Holloway and Kilburn, were farther out
of town then than Richmond and Croydon--nay, Windsor and Gravesend--are
now. Saying nothing of omnibuses and cabs, we are within the truth in
stating that a hundred railway stations are easily reached from the
metropolis by trains starting at eleven or twelve o'clock at night
at cheap fares. What is the consequence? The father of a family can
arrange for wife and senior children (juniors of course included in the
pantomime season) a visit from the near suburbs and the more distant
environs, to places of interest in the metropolis; knowing that there
will be the means of returning home after the enjoyments of the evening
are ended. How this tells upon the shilling will be readily understood
by those who know the prevalent prices of admission to public places.
May we not find a clue to the solution, at the Mint? We all know that
it is more convenient to make our payments, so far as possible, in one
coin than in two or more, let it be of gold, silver, or copper. Now,
as a matter of ascertained fact, the Mint produces a larger number of
shillings than of any other denomination of silver coin. For instance,
in ten recent years, twenty-six million shillings were produced at the
Mint, against seventeen million sixpences and nine million florins--the
other silver coins being relatively few in number. Why it is that
the Mint puts eighty-seven and a quarter grains of sterling silver
into each and every shilling, and never deviates from that quantity
(rigorously 87.27272 grains), we are not here called upon to inquire;
but unquestionably the determination exerts some effect on prices,
within the limit, at anyrate, of the matters discussed in the present
article--intensified by the predominance of this particular kind of
silver coin over others. If we were to abolish the shilling from our
coinage, and to substitute the franc (worth about tenpence), there is
much reason to believe that we should gradually change from 'Price
One Shilling' to 'Price One Franc;' and the same with 'Admission'
instead of 'Price.' Very likely we should receive less in quantity,
less number or less dimensions, of articles or enjoyments included in
each purchase; but this would be borne with more patience than a change
in the opposite direction--in other words, it would be found more
easy to adjust our dealings to the altered value of the coin, than to
give the troublesome amount of one franc in silver _plus_ twopence in
copper or bronze to make up a shillingworth; for a dislike to 'bother'
is prevalent with most of us. But how about 'Admission One Franc?'
Should we obtain only five-sixths as much instruction or amusement
as we now obtain; and if so, in what manner would the curtailment be
carried into effect? Would the shilling gallery, for instance, share
in the enjoyment of less splendour and less fun when it became a franc
gallery? Would a franc concert-caterer give a smaller number of songs,
and the Polytechnic give fewer dissolving views and scientific lectures
on each evening?
A subject of much solicitude to the financial and commercial world
just at present may, for aught we can tell, be wrapped up in this very
problem. The price or value of pure or bullion silver has fallen
materially. The purchasing power of (say) an ounce of silver is
less than it was a year ago, as compared with gold and with general
commodities; and perchance the amount of 'value received' may have to
be readjusted to our friend the shilling in some way not at present
perceptible.
A question has been asked, What is the real or intrinsic value of
a shilling? and a good question it is, like the late Sir Robert
Peel's, 'What is a pound?' The matter seems simple, but it intimately
involves many important considerations. So far as concerns the Mint,
the government, or the state, the value of a shilling is honestly
expressed; no profit is made on its manufacture; on the contrary, a
certain sum has to be provided annually out of the general taxation of
the country, to make up a small deficiency. The chemical and mechanical
processes of coining cost so much, the unavoidable (though trifling)
waste amounts to so much, the wear of the coin costs so much for
recoining after a few years, and so much for putting in new silver to
make up the deficiency from 'light weight;' and all these items swell
the cost of the shilling to the Mint. If the coin were made much below
its intrinsic value in pure silver, it would not pass on the continent;
if above, it would be melted down as bullion; and thus the Mint or the
state has many points to consider in the matter. A bronze penny pays
its full expense of manufacture; a gold sovereign and a silver shilling
do not. Whether, at the present time, when the Mint can buy silver
bullion and old silver at a cheaper rate than was the case a few years
ago, the silver coinage just now pays its own expenses, is a question
on which possibly the Master of the Mint may have something to say in
his next annual Report.
THE BIG TREES OF MARIPOSA.
M. le Baron De Hübner in his interesting work, _A Ramble Round the
World_, gives an account of an excursion from San Francisco to the
Yosemite Valley, in the Sierra Nevada, for the purpose of seeing what
are known as the 'Big Trees of Mariposa.' It is a toilsome journey
by stage-wagons with relays of horses, through a wild country, and
the distance going and returning is four hundred and forty miles. The
journey took place in June, when the weather was fine, as it generally
is in California near the coast of the Pacific. At the _rancho_ or
farm establishment of a hospitable planter, the wheeled carriages
could go no farther, and the party were provided with little Indian
horses, harnessed and saddled in the Mexican fashion, to complete the
excursion. There were now, however, only a few miles to be travelled.
The Big Trees of Mariposa, which are reported to be the most gigantic
trees in the world, were discovered as lately as 1855. The stories
told of their gigantic dimensions seemed almost incredible. It was
represented that they exceeded in height the tallest church steeples;
were in fact as high as the top of St Paul's in London, and that is
three hundred and fifty-six feet, reckoning from the marble floor
to the cross. Another circumstance that seemed surprising was that
these marvellously tall trees grew in a valley among mountains, at
a height of eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. Such a
circumstance in itself conveys an impressive idea of the magnificent
climate in California, it being difficult in any part of England to
grow trees successfully at a greater elevation than a thousand feet
above sea-level, and seldom at that. Reaching the spot where the large
trees grew, the Baron and his companions began to observe various trees
fallen on account of age or the force of the winds, while at the same
time infant trees were springing spontaneously up, and which, after
growing for hundreds of years, will perish in their turn. Of the trees
generally, the Baron says:
'The Big Trees of Mariposa well deserve their world-spread reputation.
A law lately passed, and voted unanimously by the legislature, shelters
them both from speculation and from the devastation of the mining
companies. Unfortunately, however, it cannot protect them from the
incendiary fires of the Indians. But none of these trees can be cut
down. There are more than four hundred, which, thanks to their diameter
of more than thirty feet, their circumference of upwards of ninety
feet, and their height of more than three hundred feet, are honoured
with the appellation of the Big Trees. Some of them have lost their
crown and been in part destroyed by fire, that scourge of Californian
forests. Others, overthrown by tempests, are lying prostrate on the
soil, and are already covered with those parasitic creeping plants
which are ever ready to crop up round these giant corpses. One of
these huge hollow trunks makes a natural tunnel. We rode through it
in all its length on horseback without lowering our heads. Another,
still standing and green, enables a horseman to enter it, turn round,
and go out of it by the same opening. These two trees form the great
attraction of the tourists. Like the Russian pilgrims in Palestine
who have bathed in the Jordan, the tourists, after having passed on
horseback through the tunnelly trunk of one of these trees and the
interior of the other, strong in the consciousness of having done their
duty, think of nothing but instant departure. The greater part of these
trees are marked by the inscriptions of different celebrated persons.
One of them bears the name of Ferdinand de Lesseps.
'The Big Trees, with their smooth, dead-red trunks and short horizontal
branches, are of a coniferous race, well known in Europe. One sees
specimens in all our botanical gardens and in most of the "pinetums"
of private persons. The first discoverer, an Englishman, gave them the
name, which has stuck to them in Europe, of _Wellingtonia_. This name,
which was offensive to the Americans, was changed by them into _Sequoia
gigantea_, after an Indian chief of Pennsylvania, who distinguished
himself by his kindness to the whites and by his civilised habits.
These _Sequoias_ would have a far grander effect to the eye if they
were isolated, instead of being crowded with other trees, many of which
have attained to almost the same size. Without the help of a guide, it
would be difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish them from one
another. The great indefinable charm of this spot lies in the poetic
beauty of the site and the extraordinary fecundity of nature.'
The _Wellingtonia gigantea_, or Mammoth pine, as it is sometimes
called, is a tree perfectly hardy and of rapid growth. Its leaves
resemble those of the _Arbor vitæ_. Introduced by seeds into Great
Britain, it is grown successfully as an ornamental tree, though we
have not yet had sufficient experience to say whether it will attain
anything like the dimensions and height it does in California. We
planted one in 1865, when it was about a foot high, and now it has
attained a height of twelve to thirteen feet. It grows about a foot in
the year. We watch its progress with considerable interest.
MRS PETRE.
IN TWO CHAPTERS.--CHAPTER II.
'Twelve hours afterwards Janet Heath was stunned and horrified to hear,
from a strange source, that Mrs Petre was dead--had died in the middle
of the night from an overdose of laudanum. Fortunately for Janet, the
woman who lived next door to her cottage was possessed of great good
sense; and when Janet rushed into her house wildly denouncing Mrs
Danton, Mrs Dixon said: "Just have a care what you say; if her heart is
anything like her face, you'll have a slippery customer to deal with in
Mrs Danton. There'll be an inquiry, and plenty chance to speak then."
'But Janet, though cautioned, went straight up to Hilton Lodge, did
not pause to be announced, but walking into the dining-room, faced Mrs
Danton, who, with an air half-defiant, half-cringing, said: "This is a
sad business; isn't it?"
"Sad?" cried Janet; "shameful. How did it happen? How could it have
happened?"
"An overdose of laudanum," returned Mrs Danton.
"Laudanum!" exclaimed Janet, a new light flashing across her. "What was
that the doctor said to you yesterday about the laudanum? I did not
hear your answer."
"You were not meant to hear my answer," responded Mrs Danton, who
bringing her evil face upon a level with Janet's, and tapping her
sharply on the shoulder, added: "You don't come here to censure me."
Her look was so terrible, Janet said she felt her knees tremble beneath
her; she involuntarily turned away whilst Mrs Danton added: "It is not
my wish that Mr Aubrey Stanmore should be made acquainted with this
event. I will communicate with Mrs Petre's friends. I warn you of my
severest displeasure and vengeance if you inform him."
'The words fell blankly upon Janet's ears; she simply left the room and
made her way up to the drawing-room, where lay all that was mortal of
her poor old friend.
'Meanwhile the authorities came upon the scene; and now I must
endeavour to be very explicit. You know no body can be buried without
a certificate from the doctor as to the cause of death; and on this
occasion Mrs Danton knew a coroner's inquest would be absolutely
necessary. But in the meantime a letter was speeding up to the Aubrey
Stanmores, written in wild excitement by Janet, simply stating that
Mrs Petre was dead; that they said it was from an overdose of laudanum
taken by herself; but added Janet: "I was with her half an hour before
she is said to have taken it, and I never saw her calmer or more
sensible. Pray, do something!" concluded Janet, "for all is not right."
'Mr Stanmore's first step was to proceed at once to his solicitor,
an extremely worthy man, who, on hearing the circumstances, at once
consented to start for Lynton, whither he was accompanied by both
Aubrey and his wife. They judged it prudent, after seeing Janet, to go
direct to the doctor's house, in order to ascertain particulars from
him, as, from Aubrey's position with his aunt, it was not quite easy
for them to go direct to her house now she was dead, when she had not
received them there during her lifetime. How vividly did Aubrey now
recall his last interview with her, when Mrs Danton was absent; how he
had knelt down by her side and beseeched her to send her off, and in
her place to install the faithful Janet. "When Arthur Dumaresque comes
home," had been her feeble promise; and now, how true his words to his
wife and Janet had turned out: "That woman will never let my aunt live
until Arthur Dumaresque comes home."
'This doctor whom they were about to visit was a new importation to
Lynton. He had obtained a fair share of practice, but it was more than
doubtful how long he would continue to retain it, for neither his
manner nor his appearance was in his favour. However, the Stanmores and
Mr Westmoreland the lawyer merely knew that he had attended Mrs Petre;
and it was simply to hear his account of the melancholy affair that
they troubled him with a visit.
'Much to their amazement, nothing could have been more brusque
or discourteous than Dr Harper's manner. He received them in the
most extraordinary way, and flatly refused to be, as he called it,
"interrogated" as to the circumstances of Mrs Petre's death.
"Had you ordered the laudanum?" asked Mr Westmoreland.
"No; I had not," he answered. "I knew nothing about it till I was sent
for, and told to bring the stomach-pump."
"And how had she taken it?" pursued Mr Westmoreland. "Who bought it?
Where was it got?"
"I tell you I am not going to be questioned; the inquiry will give
you all particulars;" and without even the civility of a bow to the
Stanmores, he ushered them out of his room.
'The police-office was the next place to be visited. There every
question was answered with alacrity and politeness, and the following
particulars given by the constable whose duty it was to ascertain the
facts where such occurrences took place. The inquiry, he told them,
was fixed for the following day. The jury were all summoned; and the
coroner, at some inconvenience to himself, had consented, in order to
accommodate the relatives of the late Mrs Petre, to allow it to take
place at the house.
'It appeared that Mrs Danton had lodged the following statement
with the constable: About ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after
Janet Heath had left, the drawing-room bell rang violently; the
housemaid--the old woman I have described--went to answer it; but
before she could get up-stairs it pealed again. Mrs Petre was sitting
in her chair when she entered, and said: "Send Danton up to me."
'Danton--who always raged at this abbreviation--accordingly went
up-stairs; and on getting into the drawing-room, Mrs Petre exclaimed,
holding out a large bottle: "See what I have done! I have emptied this
bottle of laudanum. What effect will it have?"
"It will make you drowsy; you must keep awake," replied Danton.
'It was a bottle capable of holding four ounces of laudanum, which,
according to Mrs Danton's testimony, Mrs Petre had herself bought a
few days before, for the purpose, it was supposed, of applying to her
rheumatic limbs.
'Mrs Petre, whose horror of death was well known, at once exhibited
the greatest alarm. "Send for the doctor--send for the doctor!" was
her entreaty; and Mrs Danton sent the housemaid--the old woman who was
supposed to wait on Mrs Petre--off in the carriage, which happened to
be at the door then; not direct to Dr Harper's house, but to _another
patient's_, "to see if he was there;" at that house the housemaid
lingered, and it was not until fully three-quarters of an hour had
elapsed that Dr Harper reached Hilton Lodge with the stomach-pump.
For that three-quarters of an hour surely a strict account would be
required at the inquest.
'Mrs Petre lingered on until the middle of the night, by which
time several of Mrs Danton's own relatives had arrived upon the
scene--notably one who volunteered the information that previous to
the old lady's death she had stood in readiness, handkerchief in hand,
ready to tie up the poor old face.
'However, to be as brief as possible. The Stanmores were so completely
convinced that there had been foul play, that, by dint of strenuous
exertions, they succeeded in persuading the coroner to defer the
inquest until the Monday. Janet must be called as a witness; and Mr
Stanmore, as the nearest relative, declared that he must identify the
body. Accordingly, the constable who had previously arranged with
Mrs Danton for the immediate inquest, proceeded to the house; now
anxious to elicit further particulars, and also to intimate to her
the postponement. He wanted the second bottle--for Mrs Danton had
stated the laudanum had been purchased in separate ones. That was not
forthcoming. It had been broken or mislaid; so only one--a good-sized
one without any label--was handed over to him.
'Upon informing her of the new arrangement, Mrs Danton started
violently, but recovering herself, said to a relation of her own, in a
half aside, but quite audibly: "I know who is at the bottom of this,
but I shall know what to do."
'The constable then left; and Mr Stanmore meanwhile was not idle as
regarded efforts to collect all the evidence he could relative to his
aunt's death. The case appeared a very clear one to him. Mrs Danton
had, if not _all_ his aunt's bonds in her own name, at anyrate a sum of
money in amount quite impossible to guess at. Mrs Petre had declared
her intention to get rid of her, and Major Dumaresque was coming home
shortly, when a proper account would no doubt be demanded; and with
Mrs Petre's aid, all would have to be disgorged, and Mrs Danton would
return to her old life of needy dependence, with only censure and
disgrace attached to her. There was no lack of motive; and looking at
the case in any light, nothing could seem more conclusive than it was.
'Monday soon came; and at eleven o'clock the coroner with his twelve
jurymen assembled in the best parlour of the _Royal George_, amidst
great excitement; the witnesses collected in an adjoining room; and
after the body had been viewed by the jury and identified by Aubrey
Stanmore, proceedings fairly began. It was a long low-roofed room, with
a narrow table, at the head of which the coroner sat; close by him were
the solicitors, one for the Stanmores, the other for Mrs Danton; on
one side of the table were the jurymen; whilst at the end of it were
standing a group of officials, a police inspector; and the summoning
constable, whose duty it was to call the witnesses separately, and to
hand them the Bible to kiss whilst the coroner rapidly read over the
required oath.
'The Stanmores were in the waiting-room with Janet Heath, when in
walked Mrs Danton, alone; her cadaverous face looking yellower and
more repulsive than ever, her black eyes glancing from side to side,
betraying a nervousness she evidently tried hard to conceal.
"Would she go out alone?" wondered Mrs Stanmore. "Would not the hand of
the law be upon her, and the death of the poor old lady avenged?" Who
could tell!