would be paid all in good time; and for the present we both resolved
to dismiss it from our minds. Friends were rapidly gathering round us;
we must receive and pay visits; so it was not very difficult to banish
disagreeables, and to enter with the greatest enjoyment into the new
life which lay before us. I had fancied our house was very complete
and perfect until I saw some of the elegant drawing-rooms belonging
to my new acquaintances; after that, many deficiencies were plainly
visible; and in order to supply them, we went to different shops,
making various purchases, which as usual, were put down to our account.
Then came our first entertainment with its attendant expenses, which
it was absolutely impossible to avoid; for in Henry's position it was,
as we thought, most necessary for us to maintain a good appearance;
and as his wife, it was also incumbent upon me to dress as well and
fashionably as I could.
So things went on; and before we had been married two years I need
hardly say we were hopelessly and horribly in debt. To retrench seemed
utterly impossible. I hardly knew where the extravagance lay; but the
fact remained, we were living far beyond our income; our bills were
never ending, and every day we were sinking deeper and deeper into the
mire. To add to our difficulties, a nursery had been established, and
though one might imagine so small an addition was not a serious one,
it cost us no trifling sum. I could not have endured to see my baby
badly dressed. How could I have seen it go out except in the sweetest
and freshest of garments? So it was duly adorned in the whitest and
prettiest things, which insured a most satisfactory amount of patronage
for our laundress, and most appalling bills for me. However, we managed
to keep afloat in some wonderful manner; but Henry was beginning to
have a strangely careworn look, to which I could not blind myself. He
was worried and harassed. His business was all right; but there were
bills to be met, difficulties to be disposed of which he could not
quite see the end of.
To outward appearance, however, we seemed a very prosperous pair. Our
house was now as elegant as our neighbours'. I had a thousand costly
little trifles lying about in the drawing-room, got from time to time,
and as usual not paid for; some of which the shopkeepers themselves
had pressed me into purchasing. Sometimes a sharp pang shot through
me when I thought over our position, and I wished when we first set
up that I had had sufficient sense to persuade Henry to do so more in
accordance with our income than we had done; but it was too late now;
we must trust to some good fortune turning up. Henry had hopes that his
partners meant to promote him; and if they were realised, we should be
much better off. This idea was buoying us both up, and we were feeling
particularly sanguine when Mr Trevor, the senior partner, a peculiar
man, who never almost left his own house in Bedford Square, except for
the office, announced his intention of coming to Amberley Villas to
dine, if we would have him. In our anxiety to impress him favourably,
we launched out into further expenses. He must be handsomely
entertained, so much might depend upon his visit. Accordingly, I
arranged a most recherché little dinner, and had the table laid out _à
la Russe_ to my entire satisfaction; when everything was completed,
surveying the preparations with the utmost confidence in Mr Trevor's
verdict. But alas! for Henry's hopes and for my dinner. Mr Trevor came,
partook very sparingly and silently of our hospitality, and departed
without having dropped one syllable on the subject which we were so
hoping he would discuss.
Some ten days afterwards, the advance in the business was bestowed upon
one of Henry's juniors who had never dreamt of getting it. We were
terribly disappointed, having counted so surely upon an addition to
our means; and when our wrathful feelings were at their height, who
should suddenly walk in but Uncle Jocelyn! He had never been in our
house since we were married. It was in fact a great event for him to
leave Conington, but the freak had seized him. He wanted to see his
old favourite and his new grand-niece, so he had come. He only meant
to stay for the day; in the evening he intended to return home. In my
inmost heart I was as fond of him as ever; but his visit was ill-timed.
I could not rally from my disappointment for Henry, and our cares were
now assuming too serious an aspect to be easily set aside.
'You have a beautiful little house, Kate,' he said. 'I had no notion
Henry was such a rich man.'
'Hadn't you, uncle?' I said, trying to laugh unconstrainedly.
'I am truly pleased to see you so comfortable,' continued Uncle Jocelyn
kindly. 'This room must have cost you a pretty penny, Kate; and I
daresay you have a nest-egg somewhere as well.'
'Oh, it isn't very much,' I answered, really referring to the room, but
as he thought to the nest-egg; and imagining I meant that the latter,
though of small proportions, did exist, he responded most cordially:
'Doesn't matter how small, Kate; there's plenty of time to make it
larger.'
It was no use undeceiving him, though at that very moment an ominous
envelope was delivered to me with the announcement that the person who
brought it was waiting for an answer; to which I returned the usual
formula, that Mr Arden was out, but would call in a day or two. I tried
to look as indifferent as possible; but I felt Uncle Jocelyn's eyes
were upon me, and my face coloured painfully, nor did my confusion
escape the kind scrutiny. I felt thoroughly convinced he had drawn his
own conclusions. Soon afterwards, lunch was announced, and we descended
to the dining-room, where Sophy my parlour-maid had, to my horror,
arranged some of our best china on the table, with the best intentions
I knew, meaning to impress my visitor with our grandeur, but little
imagining the real effect such superfluities would have upon my uncle.
He noticed it directly, and admired it very much.
'Where did you get that figure?' he asked, indicating a lovely china
centre-piece.
'I am not quite certain,' I replied carelessly; 'we have had it for
some time.'
'Was it very expensive?' pursued Uncle Jocelyn.
'O no; not very: at least I didn't think so,' I answered, recollecting
with a painful throb that it certainly had not cost us much as yet,
considering we had not paid for it.
I need not give all the details of Uncle Jocelyn's visit; suffice it
to say that it was one long martyrdom that afternoon to me; and it was
a positive relief when his kind old face vanished, and I found myself
alone once more. He had gone away no doubt thinking our lines were in
very pleasant places, feeling assured not only of our prosperity but of
our happiness. Poor deceived Uncle Jocelyn! He little knew that I was
just longing to throw myself into his arms and make a clean breast of
all our extravagance and consequent troubles. How I envied him going
back to quiet peaceful Conington! How I wished Henry and I were just
one half as happy as he was!
However, our struggle then was just beginning, for we sank deeper and
deeper. It was like a quicksand--the more we struggled the deeper we
got. We dared not openly retrench--we lacked the moral courage; and
our private attempts were the merest drops in the ocean of that mighty
sea into which we had drifted, simply and solely because we had at
the outset ignored the golden rule, so impressed upon me by Uncle
Jocelyn, to live within our means, and to pay ready-money. And what
had all our extravagance done for us? We had a large visiting-list,
and I periodically paid a host of visits, always hoping to find my
friends from home. We had a pretty house, and were able to entertain
as elegantly as our neighbours. I had heaps of fashionable dresses
and useless finery; and Henry was as perfect as ever in my eyes; but
we were both miserable; debt stared us in the face whichever way we
turned; and how long we could keep our creditors at bay was beginning
to be a source of considerable anxiety to us.
Henry's position in his business depended solely upon the pleasure of
the senior partners. There were curious conditions in their agreement
with him; and if they heard of his embarrassments, no doubt it would
injure him greatly, and might make them consider themselves justified
in perhaps something far more serious than a remonstrance. O that we
had acted differently! that the past could be lived over again with our
present experience!
Once or twice I thought of confiding our woes to my mother; but I dared
not; intuitively I knew that although in his prosperity Henry was a
great favourite with her, she would regard him very differently if
misfortunes came; and I felt I could bear anything rather than hear him
blamed, especially as in my inmost heart I knew I was equally, if not
actually more to blame than he was; for now I saw clearly how true it
was what Uncle Jocelyn said, that a wife can make or mar her husband.
If I had quietly set to work at the outset, and advised him aright, all
would have been well; but now every day brought some hateful dun or
threatening letter. A ring at the bell would cause me to start; and the
sound of a man's voice in the hall parleying with Sophy, was enough to
make me tremble all over.
'The crash could not be staved off for long; a crisis must shortly
come.' So said Henry one lovely June evening, when we were sitting
disconsolately discussing all manner of wild impossible schemes. It
was an exquisite night; the heat of the day was over; not a breath of
wind stirred the delicate blossoms of the plants which adorned our
balcony, and the moon was rising in all her liquid loveliness, casting
a clear cool light over the scene. Everything looked calm and quiet and
peaceful; the pulses of the great city were hushed; there was nothing
to break the silence, except poor Henry's hopeless tones repeating, 'A
crisis can't be far off, Kate. What we are to do, I know not!'
We fancied the amazement of our friends--the nine days' wonder our
misfortunes would cause, little dreaming that our ending had long
been confidently predicted by them, and that our hospitality had been
roundly censured and condemned by the very partakers of it. Still
less did we imagine that Mr Trevor, so far from being favourably
impressed with our surroundings, had gone away--fully aware as he was
with the exact amount of Henry's income--shocked and sorry to see that
Henry Arden had married a wife with so little sense and judgment; and
no second glance from his keen eyes was wanting to prove to him how
terribly beyond it we were living. His observations had satisfied
him that serious embarrassments must ensue; consequently he and his
partners had bestowed the desired post and increased emoluments upon
one who, if he needed it less than we did, certainly understood its
value better.
So no one except my mother and Uncle Jocelyn would be surprised,
though we imagined so differently, as we sat on and on in our pretty
drawing-room talking over the weary subject and pondering what we could
possibly do. We should have to sell off everything, to leave Amberley
Villas, and to begin life over again. Henry's prospects of course would
be seriously damaged, and we could never hope to thoroughly regain the
position our own folly had deprived us of. It was not pleasant to think
of; but there could be no shuffling out of the question now; it must be
met and answered immediately: What were we to do? Nothing very definite
could be arrived at; but one thing was quite clear--the change could
not be far off.
I can never describe the anxiety of the days that followed, nor
tell the agony it cost me to write and tell my mother that we were
hopelessly, desperately involved, and that our difficulties were so
great, it was impossible for us ever to surmount them. What would she
say? What would everybody say? Worst of all, what would Uncle Jocelyn
say? For the worst had come to the worst--our house was our own no
longer; a man--strange and to me most terrible--was comfortably making
himself at home in our kitchen--in other words, had taken possession!
How could Henry shew his face at the office! How could I ever venture
out again!
I shall never forget the two days that followed after I wrote and told
my mother; on the third, when I was almost stupefied with the magnitude
of our misfortunes, and during Henry's (poor Henry certainly had the
hardest part to bear, for he could not stay quietly at home) absence
had shut myself up in my room, some one knocked at the door, and in
answer to my very subdued 'Come in,' it was gently opened, and not
Sophy, as I had anticipated, appeared, but the familiar friendly face
of Uncle Jocelyn.
'My poor child!' he exclaimed--'my little Kate!'--and he folded me in
his arms with all the tenderness of a father. 'I only heard of it all
this morning,' he said, 'and I started off immediately. Cheer up, Kate;
don't grieve your old uncle by tears. Things can't be past mending; and
I wouldn't be here if I hadn't come to help you.'
And how he helped us! Without a word of anger or reproach, he listened
to Henry's and my story; we told it truthfully, not sparing or
attempting to justify ourselves for our culpable conduct; and when all
was confessed, he simply wrote a cheque for the full amount of our
liabilities. The total was a serious one; but we were saved not only
from the disgrace but from Henry's dismissal from a partnership which
afterwards was the means of our possessing a fortune far beyond what we
had ever in our rosiest imaginings dreamed of.
By Uncle Jocelyn's advice we sublet Amberley Villas, and retired to a
more roomy house in a less expensive and less fashionable locality; we
sold all our superfluities, which had become actually hateful to me,
and we started once more with a small but certain income.
How much happier we were, and how grateful to Uncle Jocelyn, it would
require a far more eloquent pen than mine to describe. He often came
to see us, and never had cause to regret the generous help he had so
readily extended to us in our great need, for he saw how thoroughly
repentant we were. My mother joined in the general rejoicing over our
regained happiness; and out of gratitude, her old prejudice against
Uncle Jocelyn faded and faded away.
She often goes to Conington now, where we all meet, a merry party, of
which the generous old man is the well-beloved centre. He was giving
me some gentle hints as to the training of my sons the other day. 'For
it's a mother's influence that tells upon the man, Kate; it's the
lesson she teaches in childhood that he remembers best.'
'Yes, Uncle Jocelyn,' I answered; 'I know you aright. I hope amongst
the many things I desire to teach them, one especially mayn't be
forgotten--you know what that is?'
'To fear God,' replied Uncle Jocelyn reverently.
'That first of all,' I answered; 'but I meant something else.'
'What?' queried Uncle Jocelyn.
'Never to buy what they can't afford, and always to pay ready-money.'
[Here ends a true story, which it would be well if young folks about
to marry would lay to heart. Commencing married life with the best
intentions to be frugal--to 'creep before they gang'--how often do we
hear of troublous times for the young pair who ought to know nought
but happiness. With a heedless disregard to future consequences, they
but too frequently establish an appearance as showy as their richer
neighbours, launching (perhaps unwittingly) into extravagance that may
cost them years of misery to redeem. Though in the case above narrated
a young couple were saved from ruin by the intervention of a relative,
such convenient folks are not always at one's elbow; and even if they
were, should be left out of consideration. A thousand times better to
begin 'house-keeping' with a show modest in proportion to means; to
furnish if need be, gradually; and from time to time add what can be
reasonably afforded. Then indeed the husband will secure not only the
respect of his employer, but his own; and his young and happy partner
need not give herself much uneasiness about what it will cost to clothe
baby.]
ON SOME ODD FISHES.
A very singular little group of fishes is that known to the naturalist
by the name Lophobranchii; this term meaning literally 'tuft-gilled.'
Included in this division are two curious families, of one of which the
Sea-horses or _Hippocampi_ are the representatives; whilst to the other
family belong their allies, the Pipe-fishes. No more interesting forms
than these two groups can well be selected from the great class of
which they are little known members. And the interest with which they
are regarded by zoologists extends beyond the mere investigation of
their outside form or appearance; since they present, in many points of
their economy and habits, very marked deviations from what one may call
the ordinary run of fish-life.
To visitors to the great aquaria which are now springing up in
every part of the country, the Sea-horses will be familiar. Their
hardy nature together with their curious appearance have marked
them out as aquarium favourites; and they may fairly, in respect
of their zoological fame, divide the honours with any of their
companion-tenants. Imagine a little body from four to six inches in
length, topped by a head which in outline exactly resembles that of a
horse, and tapering off below or behind into a lithe, flexible, and
pointed tail, and we may form a rough idea of the general appearance
of one of the Sea-horses. This little body we shall find to be covered
with plates or scales of hard horny or bony material, exhibiting ridges
and angles all over its surface. A pair of large brilliant eyes, each
of which may be moved independently of the other, add to the curious
appearance of the head; whilst to the body itself, may be attached
long streamers of sea-weed, serving to conceal the little beings as
they nestle amid their marine bowers, each looking like some veritable
creation mythological.
The flexible tail which terminates the body has the important office of
mooring or attaching the fishes to any fixed object. As we see them in
the aquarium, they are generally poised, on the tail, as it were; the
latter being coiled around a bit of sea-weed, whilst the erect body and
head look warily through the waters of their miniature sea. And when
they detach themselves, they swim about in the erect position by means
of the two pectoral or breast fins, which being placed close to the
sides of the neck, project like veritable ears, and assist in rendering
the equine appearance of the head of still more realistic nature. These
fins move with a quick twittering motion, and propel their possessor
swiftly through the water; whilst the back-fin, placed towards the
hinder extremity of the body, also assists them in swimming.
Some curious points in the internal structure of the Sea-horses warrant
a brief notice. As every one knows, the red gills of an ordinary fish
are shaped each like a comb, the teeth of the comb being represented
by the delicate processes, each consisting in reality of a network
of blood-vessels, in which the blood is exposed to the oxygen of the
water, and is thus purified. In the Sea-horses, however, the gills
do not present this comb-like appearance, but exist in the form
of separated tufts or bunches of delicate filaments, which spring
from the gill-supports or arches. From this peculiarity, the name
'tuft-gilled,' already alluded to, is derived, and the Pipe-fishes
agree in the structure of the gills with the Sea-horses. Then, also,
as most readers are aware, the gills of ordinary fishes are covered
by a horny plate, appropriately named the gill-cover, and it is by
sharply compressing the gills with this cover, that the water used in
breathing is ejected from the gills, so as to make room for a fresh
supply. In the Sea-horses, however, the gill-cover is not open or
free at its under and hinder edges, but is firmly attached all round
to the neighbouring tissues, and so rendered immovable. But at one
point in its circumference, a small aperture is left, through which the
breathing water escapes from the gills.
The Sea-horses are found abundantly in the English Channel, around
the coasts of France and Spain, in the Mediterranean Sea, and in the
tropical oceans. A goodly number of different species are known to
zoologists, but they all resemble one another in the essential features
just noted. They are intelligent lively little creatures, learning in
time to know the hand that feeds them. Fixed by their tails, they may
be seen actively to dart the head at any passing object adapted for
food. Whilst, when they wish to free their bodies from the attached
position, they appear to manœuvre with the chin and head in order
to effect their purpose. Their food appears to consist of small
crustaceans, worms, and others of their marine neighbours, and they are
known to be especially fond of such delicate tit-bits as are afforded
by the eggs of other fishes.
Perhaps the most curious part of the history of the Sea-horses relates
to their care of the young. Fishes generally take little or no care of
their offspring, and it is therefore the more surprising to encounter
in the little beings before us, a singular example of parental fidelity
and attachment. Nor, as might be expected, is it the mother-fish who is
charged with the task of attending the young. Contrary to the general
rule, the male fish assumes the part of nurse, and well and faithfully
does he appear to discharge his duties. At the root of the tail in the
male Sea-horses, a curious little pouch is seen. In this pouch the
eggs laid by the females--which do not possess a pouch--are deposited,
and are therein duly hatched. Nor does the parental duty end here;
for after the young are hatched and swim about by themselves, they
seek refuge in the pouch during the early or infantile period of their
life whenever danger threatens them. This procedure forcibly reminds
one of the analogous habits of the kangaroos and their young; but the
occurrence is the more remarkable in the lower and presumably less
intelligent fish.
Some experiments made on Sea-horses seem to demonstrate the existence
of a more than ordinary degree of attachment to their young. Thus
when a parent-fish was taken out of the water, the young escaped from
the pouch; but on the parent being held over the side of the boat,
the young at once swam towards him, and re-entered the pouch without
hesitation. Some authorities have not hesitated to express an opinion
that the young are nourished within the pocket by some fluid or
secretion from the pouch itself. But further observation is certainly
necessary before this latter opinion can be relied upon.
The Pipe-fishes are very near neighbours of the Sea-horses, and derive
their name from the thin elongated shape of their bodies, together with
the fact that the jaws are prolonged to form a long pipe-like snout, at
the extremity of which the mouth opens. These fishes are very lively
in all their movements, and dart through the water so quickly that in
many cases the eye is unable to follow them. Like the Sea-horses, the
male Pipe-fishes protect and tend their progeny, and exhibit an equal
attachment to their young.
These latter features are also well exemplified by the familiar
Sticklebacks of our ponds and streams. The latter fishes actually
build nests for the reception and care of their eggs, the nests being
made chiefly or solely by the males; whilst on the latter, during the
process of hatching and in the upbringing of the young, devolves the
chief care of protecting and looking after the welfare of the progeny.
These instances of the care and duties which devolve on the males,
instead of on the mother-parents, appear to reverse the more natural
order, which almost universally obtains in the case of both lower and
higher animals.