Mr Grey's library is a curious little room, fitted up quite in his own
way. Maps cover the sides of the walls, and a large bookcase holds the
books, which are mostly nautical. Models of ships and steamers are on
various shelves, there is an astrolabe near the window, and a sextant
and some pattern guns on the table. Mr Grey is busy at the moment with
official papers; his nimble fingers are copying a 'General Memo.' with
wonderful rapidity. Hearing the stately step of his chief coming along
the passage, he naturally supposes the Admiral has returned to give
further directions about some orders ere long to be circulated amongst
the ships. So he glances up over his spectacles pen in hand. Great is
his surprise at seeing evident signs of agitation in Sir Herbert's
face, as he says in a low tone: 'Put aside your papers for an instant,
Grey. I want to consult you on quite another subject. I have come to
ask your consent to my marriage with your daughter Katie.'
'Your marriage with my daughter, Sir Herbert!' and Mr Grey lets a huge
drop of ink splash on his 'General Memo.' in his surprise.
'You seem astonished, Grey. Have you any objection to accept me as your
son-in-law?'
'Pardon me, Sir Herbert, pardon my hesitation; but you startled me for
the moment. I am conscious of the honour you are doing us; but have you
considered how young and inexperienced Katie is? A mere girl, in fact.
She is but little used to the ways of the world; hardly wise enough to
hold the high position you offer her.'
The Admiral smiles. 'I will take the risk of all that. Katie is
willing, and I am ready to marry her just as she is.'
'Then I give my full sanction.'
'Wish me joy, Grey. You don't say a word about that.'
'I will wish you something better and deeper than mere joy, Sir
Herbert. I pray you may have true and unmixed happiness with my
daughter. May she prove a wife worthy of you, and may you never regret
your choice.'
There is a tremble in Mr Grey's voice as he grasps the Admiral's hand
and ratifies the new bond sprung up so suddenly between them; and he
looks thoughtfully after Sir Herbert as he leaves the room. Surely
women are fickle, and his daughter Katie the most fickle of her sex!
Only two months ago, Walter Reeves had come into that very same room
on the very same kind of mission. The same, but with a difference.
He has not actually proposed for Katie, but had asked permission to
visit at the house with that intention, in the event of his love being
reciprocated. And Katie knows all this, and up to the present has
received Walter's attentions, and seemed to take them as her right.
But now all this is set aside, and a man nearly as old as her father
himself has stepped in and won the girl as a willing prize. Well may
the old sailor marvel! Things have changed since the days 'long ago,'
when _he_ wooed his wife, and waited nine long years for her because he
could not afford to marry sooner. His true old-fashioned love has but
intensified as years have sped on; the trials of life have but drawn
the wedded pair closer to each other. Will this be the experience of
Katie and the Admiral?
Worthy Mr Grey cannot settle that point; so he goes up-stairs to hear
what Katie herself has to say on the subject.
Miss Grey lingers in the drawing-room after the Admiral has gone. There
seems something strangely sad and vague and solemn in the whole affair,
now it has gone so far; and when her mother comes into the room with
Helen leaning on her arm, she exclaims at once, with glowing cheeks and
flashing eyes and defiant tone: 'Wish me joy, mother, and Helen! I am
going to be married!'
'I'm glad it is settled at last, Katie; and I hope you will be very
happy. Walter has had plenty of patience, I'm sure,' says Mrs Grey in
her quiet voice, as she settles Helen comfortably on the sofa and turns
round to give Katie a kiss of congratulation.
But her daughter draws back with a look of annoyance.
'Why do you talk of Walter? I am not going to marry _him_. My intended
husband's name stands far higher in the Navy List. I'm going to be
married to Admiral Sir Herbert Dillworth!'
'Sir Herbert!' exclaim Helen and her mother together.
'Yes. Why are you surprised?'
'I'm sure we've good reason for surprise, considering all that has gone
on about Walter. Katie, Katie! what new fancy has hold of you now?' The
voice is Mrs Grey's, the tone one of reproach.
Katie is growing angry. 'The fancy is no new one, mother. Had you not
all been very blind, you might have guessed what was coming long ago.'
'Do you really love Sir Herbert?' asks Helen, with that deep-seeing
look of hers, that somehow always makes her elder sister a little in
awe of her.
'I like him; the rest will come by-and-by; and I'm glad and proud of my
lot.'
There is a ring in Katie's voice, as though she has flung down the
gauntlet of self-approval, and challenges any one to take it up and
contradict her. Her father is not the one to do this. He comes into
the room at the moment, hears Katie's asseveration, and feels as if
a world of doubt had rolled away from his mind. Considering his own
word 'his bond,' he judges his daughter by the same standard. 'That's
right, Katie, and sounds earnest. You may well be proud of your lot,
and of Sir Herbert too: there isn't a better, braver, more honourable
man alive; he's unselfish and high-principled to his heart's core. I've
served three commissions under him, and ought to know him well; and I'd
rather see a child of mine lying in her grave, than that she should
bring discredit on his name. Kiss me, my girl! I wish you happiness.
Well may you be proud of our Admiral!'
Katie receives the kiss just a little impatiently; she believes she has
won 'high stakes,' and does not relish any doubts on the subject.
THE CROCODILE AND GAVIAL.
Two species of crocodile inhabit our Indian rivers, and both are
especially numerous in such streams as the Ganges and its tributaries,
the Berhampooter, and many others. Sir Emerson Tennent, in his _Natural
History of Ceylon_, points out an error which Anglo-Indians and
others are often given to--namely, of applying the term _alligator_
to animals which are in reality _crocodiles_. There are no alligators
in the Indian peninsula. The true alligator is the hideous cayman of
South America, and differs in one or two important respects from the
crocodile of the Nile and Ganges.
The first and by far the most widely distributed of the two saurians
inhabiting our Indian rivers is the common crocodile, exactly similar
to the animal frequenting the Nile and other streams of Northern
Africa, and known throughout Bengal by its Hindustani title of
'Mugger.' The second species is the Gavial or Gurryal (_Gavialis
Gangeticus_). This reptile is, I believe, only found in Hindustan, and
is indigenous to the Ganges; hence its specific title.
The habits of the two creatures are in general very similar, but yet
differ in one or two important points. The mugger often grows to an
enormous size, not unfrequently reaching twenty feet in length, and
is thick built in proportion. The limbs are short, feet palmated, the
fore-feet furnished with five, the hind with four toes. The head (which
in aspect is extremely hideous) is broad and wedge-shaped, the muzzle
rather narrow, the eyes small, deep set, and of a villainous glassy
green hue. The jaws when shut lock as closely and firmly together as a
vice. The teeth are of a formidable description, varying much in size
and length. When the mouth is closed, the tusks in the extremity of the
lower jaw pass completely through and often project above the tip of
the upper. The body is incased with scaly armour-plates, very thick and
massive on the back, but to a less extent on the sides of the body. The
reptile breathes through its nostrils, which are situated near the tip
of the snout. By this wonderful provision of nature, the crocodile is
enabled to lie in wait for its prey with the whole of its body, except
the nostrils, concealed beneath the surface of the water.
The gavial much resembles the mugger in general structure (though the
body is not usually so thickly built), with one notable exception, and
that is the totally different shape and character of the snout. The
jaws of the gavial are long, straight, and narrow; the teeth, which
are regular, wide apart from one another, and even, are of a far less
formidable description than those of the common crocodile. They much
resemble in general appearance the rows of jagged teeth which garnish
the edges of the upper jaw of the saw-fish. The snout is often several
feet in length, and there is a peculiar knob or protuberance at the
tip; and the nostrils, as in the other species, are situated near the
extremity.
The gavial has been described by some writers as 'the scourge of the
Ganges' and a 'ferocious animal;' but I venture to say that this is a
highly exaggerated if not an altogether erroneous statement. It is
possible that occasionally--though I am convinced _very rarely_--the
gavial may seize a human being; but the reptile is essentially a
fish-eater, and unlike the mugger, is little to be dreaded by the
swimmer or bather. I have frequently, when strolling along the banks
of our Indian rivers, observed the head of a gavial momentarily raised
above the surface of the water in the act of swallowing some large
fish held transversely across its jaws, the long beak and rows of
sharp teeth with which nature has furnished it, greatly assisting the
creature in snapping up such slippery prey.
Crocodiles frequent the wide open channels and reaches of our large
Indian rivers, especially in the neighbourhood of large towns, such
as Dinapore, Allahabad, or Benares. In such resorts, whole families
of both gavials and muggers may be seen lying together side by side
on points of sand or low mud islands left dry by the current of the
stream; they delight to bask in the scorching rays of the mid-day sun.
The animals always lie asleep close to the margin, and generally with
their heads pointing away from the water. They are extremely watchful;
and on being alarmed by the near approach of some boat gliding past or
human beings walking along the bank, after contemplating the objects
of their suspicion for a short space of time, they one after another
awkwardly wheel round, and with a splash and a flounder speedily vanish
beneath the surface of the water, to reappear again so soon as the
cause of their alarm has passed.
Though hideous and repulsive in appearance, these reptiles nevertheless
fulfil a most useful office as scavengers. In the neighbourhood of
large towns on the banks of the Ganges, hundreds of dead bodies are
daily cast into the holy river by the Hindus; and in a tropical
climate like India, were it not for crocodiles, turtles, and vultures
assembling and devouring the corpses, speedily some dreadful plague
would break out and spread death around.
Judging from the accounts of travellers, the crocodiles inhabiting the
African continent must be far more dangerous than their confrères of
Asia; for though we sometimes hear of muggers taking to man-eating,
especially in Lower Bengal and parts of Assam, yet such practices are
not the rule, as is generally supposed.
I have, however, seen patches of water near the foot of ghats or
flights of steps fenced round with a close and strong hedge of bamboo
stakes, driven firmly into the river-bed, for the purpose of protecting
bathers or women drawing water from the assaults of man-eating
crocodiles; and it is a dangerous practice at all times to bathe in
pools frequented by such monsters. Cows, horses, sheep, goats, and
dogs, besides the numerous wild inhabitants of the jungle, all form a
prey of the mugger. The cunning animal, well acquainted with some spot
where, towards sunset, flocks and herds, after the heat of the day has
passed, are in the habit of drinking, there lies in wait concealed amid
the sedge bordering the margin. Presently some unlucky victim in the
shape of a poor bullock parched with thirst, comes hurrying down the
bank and eagerly approaches the water; but hardly has its mouth reached
the surface, when the blood-thirsty crocodile seizes it by the nose;
and if once successful in securing a firm grip, the chances are, that
unless the herdsman is at hand to render assistance, the unfortunate
bullock, in spite of struggling desperately to free itself, is soon
dragged down on to its knees, and later beneath the surface of the pool.
It has been asserted that tigers ere now have been seized, and
after a hard fight, overpowered by the crocodile. Possibly this may
occasionally happen; but I imagine such an occurrence to be extremely
rare; and my impression is, that such redoubtable champions, each
capable of inflicting severe punishment on his opponent, would avoid
rather than risk coming to blows.
It is generally imagined that the plated coat of mail covering the
crocodile's body renders the animal invulnerable to bullets. Such may
have been the case in the days of brown-bess; but a spinning conical
ball fired from a Martini-Henry or other grooved weapon of the present
day, will not only readily pierce, but even pass completely through the
body of the largest crocodile.
It is the extraordinary tenacity of life with which all the lizard
family are endowed, that has in a great measure given rise to
this notion of their invulnerability; for unless shot through the
head, neck, heart, or such-like vital part, the crocodile, even
when desperately wounded by a bullet through the body, will almost
invariably gain the water, only shortly afterwards to sink dead to the
bottom, to be devoured by some of its cannibal relations.
Near a station where I happened to be quartered for many years in
Central India, there was a large lake where crocodiles were known
yearly to breed. After some trouble, I procured two mugger's eggs from
some fishermen who frequented the spot. They were of an oval shape,
dirty white colour and rough surface. The female crocodile about the
month of May, having scraped a hole with her feet in the sand or mud of
some dry island, deposits her eggs therein, and carefully covers them
up, leaving the heat of the sun to hatch out her progeny. Meanwhile she
hovers about the spot, till at length the thin layer of sand covering
the eggs upheaves, the young issue forth, and escorted by the mother,
take to their natural element, the water.
J. H. B.
SHAMROCK LEAVES.
A WEDDING.
At Irish country weddings of the lower orders, the priest is paid
by voluntary contributions of the wedding guests. The marriage is
generally celebrated in the evening, and is followed, especially among
the farming classes, by a grand festivity, to which his "Riverince" is
always invited. After supper, when the hearts of the company are merry
with corned beef and greens, roast goose, ham, and whisky-punch, the
hat goes round.
Honor Malone was the prettiest girl in the barony; and a lucky boy on
his marriage day was the bridegroom; albeit on the occasion he looked
very ill at ease in a stiff, shiny, brand-new, tight-fitting suit of
wedding clothes. Lucky, for in addition to her good looks, the bride
had fifty pounds to her fortune and three fine cows.
Very pretty and modest she looked seated beside the priest, blushing
a great deal, and wincing not a little at his Reverence's somewhat
broad jokes. And most becoming was the 'white frock' in which she
was attired; a many-skirted garment, resplendent with 'bow-knots' and
trimmings of white satin ribbons.
'As good as new,' my lady's-maid at the Castle, from whom she had
bought it, had assured her. 'Made by the grandest French dressmaker in
all London, and worn at only a couple of balls; her young ladies were
so cruel particular, and couldn't abide the suspicion of a crush or a
soil on their gowns.'
In the midst of his jokes and his jollity (and with an eye to future
dues, nowhere is a priest half so good-humoured as at a wedding), while
apparently absorbed in attention to the pretty bride, whose health had
just been drunk in a steaming tumbler, Father Murphy perceived with his
business eye that preparations were being made for sending round the
plate in his behalf.
The stir began at the end of the table where the 'sthrong farmers'
mustered thickest. A goodly set they were, in their large heavy
greatcoats of substantial frieze, corduroy knee-breeches, and bright
blue stockings; their comely dames wearing the capacious blue or
scarlet cloth cloak with silk-lined hood, which, like the greatcoat of
the men, is an indispensable article in the gala toilet of their class,
even in the dog-days.
In the midst of the group was Jim Ryan. Now this Jim Ryan was the sworn
friend and adherent of Father Murphy; he would have gone through fire
and water to serve his Reverence. He was rather a small man in the
parish as regarded worldly goods, having neither snug holding nor dairy
farm; but he was highly popular, being considered a 'dhroll boy' and
good company.
When the proceedings of this devoted follower met the priest's
business eye before alluded to, they caused considerable surprise to
that intelligent organ, insomuch as greatly to damage a very pretty
compliment his Reverence was in the act of making to the bride.
First Jim Ryan took hold of the collecting plate, and seemed about to
carry it round. Then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he stopped
short, and dashed it down on the table with a clatter and a bang that
made Mrs Malone wince, for it was one of her best china set.
Jim's next proceeding was to try all his pockets. He dived into his
waistcoat, breeches, and swallow-tailed coat receptacles, one after
another, but without finding what he wanted. At last, after much
hunting and shaking, and many grimaces of disappointment, he pounced on
the object of his search, and drew carefully from some unknown depths a
large tattered leather pocket-book.
By this time every one's attention was fixed upon him. Deliberately
he opened the book, and peering inside--having first ascertained by
a covert glance around that the company were observing--he extracted
from it a bank-note. This, when unfolded, he spread out and flattened
ostentatiously on the table, so that all who looked might read 'Ten
Pounds' inscribed upon it!
A flutter of astonishment ran through the guests, not unmixed with
signs of dismay among the richer portion. Fat pocket-books that a few
moments before were being pompously produced by their owners, were
stealthily thrust back again. A sudden pause was followed by a great
whispering and consulting among the farmers. Anxious and meaning
looks were bestowed on the latter by their wives, to say nothing of
expressive nudges, and digs into conjugal ribs where practicable. For
there was always much rivalry in these offerings. Misther Hennessy, who
drove his family to mass every Sunday in his own jaunting car, would
scorn to give less than Misther Welsh; though _he_ too was a 'warm'
man, and always got top price for his butter at Limerick market. And
now to be outdone by Jim Ryan! To proffer his Reverence five pounds,
when the likes of him was giving ten! It was not to be thought of! So
the result, after Jim had deposited his note with a complacent flourish
on the plate, and had gone his rounds with the latter, was the largest
collection that had ever gladdened the heart or filled the pockets of
Father Murphy.
As the priest was leaving the place, Jim came up to him and laid his
hand on the horse's bridle: 'A good turn I done yer Riverince this
night, didn't I? Such a mort of notes an' silver an' coppers I niver
laid eyes on! I thought the plate would be bruk in two halves with the
weight. An' now'--in a whisper, and looking round to see there was no
one listening--'where's my tin pound note back for me?'
'Your ten pound note, man! What do you mean by asking for it? Is it to
give you back part of my dues, you want?
'Ah then now, Father Murphy dear, sure an' sure you niver was so
innocent as to think that blessed note was mine! Where upon the face
of the living earth would a poor boy like me get such a sight of money
as that? Tin pounds! I borryed it, yer Riverince, for a schame; an'
a mighty good an' profitable schame it's turned out. Sure I knew the
sight of it would draw the coin out of all their pockets; an' by the
powers! so it did.' A fact his Reverence could not deny, while--not
without interest--he refunded Jim's ingenious decoy-duck.
THE ITALIAN GRIST-TAX.
In our own favoured realms millers have their troubles, no doubt,
as well as other folk, but at anyrate they are not tormented with
a _grist-tax_; and indeed in these enlightened days we should have
thought that such an impost was unknown in all countries claiming to
have attained a high degree of civilisation. Mr Edward Herries, C.B.,
late Her Majesty's Secretary of Legation at Rome, in the course of his
elaborate Report on the Financial System of Italy, has, however, shewn
us our mistake; and in tracing the history and present position of the
tax, he furnishes us with some curious particulars respecting it.
As our readers will doubtless be struck with the anomaly of a powerful
government having recourse nowadays to indirect taxation to augment its
revenue, it may be well at the outset to cite a brief paragraph from Mr
Herries' Report, in order to shew how it happened that the grist-tax
came to be reimposed upon the people of Italy.
Towards the close of the year 1865, he writes, M. Sella, then Minister
of Finance, having to meet a deficit estimated for 1866 at upwards of
two hundred and sixty-one million lire (say ten million four hundred
and fifty thousand pounds), and being compelled, he said, to have
recourse to indirect taxation for a large increase of revenue, urged
upon the Chamber of Deputies the revival of the grist-tax, which he
considered as fulfilling more completely than any other new impost that
could be found the essential conditions of great productiveness, wide
diffusion, and equal pressure on all parts of the kingdom.
The impost seems to have made its first appearance in Sicily, where it
was a source of revenue during the Norman period, and there, no one
was allowed to carry corn to be ground without first obtaining, after
much delay, a permit, for which he had to pay the duty chargeable on
the grinding of the corn. The attestation of the officer in charge
of the mill was requisite for the removal of the flour, for which a
certain route was prescribed, and which was always to be accompanied
by the permit. The miller was not even allowed to keep the key of
his own mill, and was prohibited from grinding corn between sunset
and sunrise. The wants of the population, however, sometimes made it
necessary to relax this rule; and in such cases the miller (whose
family was never to remain in the mill with him) was securely locked
and barred in for the night, without any means of communicating with
the outer world, whatever might happen. This treatment, however, was
at length seen to be cruel; and permission was granted to any miller
exposed to imminent peril from fire, flood, or other calamity, to free
himself from nocturnal incarceration by breaking (if he could) through
the door, window, or roof. It does not seem to have been foreseen,
Mr Herries aptly remarks, that such a gracious concession might be
rendered nugatory by the strength of the barriers or the feebleness of
the miller!
Up to 1842, the millers themselves were considered as responsible
fiscal agents; but after that time, the supervision of every mill was
intrusted to an official called a 'weigher' (_custode pesatore_);
but not being usually a very faithful guardian, bribery soon became
rampant. In the Ecclesiastical State, where the tax was farmed out to
contractors, the mode of its exaction was in many respects similar to
that existing in Sicily. By an edict of 1801, which deserves notice
as a legislative curiosity, a miller was liable to be sent to the
galleys, besides paying a heavy fine, for a variety of offences--such
as that of grinding corn not regularly consigned to him in the manner
prescribed; of receiving corn or sending out flour at night; and others
of similar enormity. In the district of the Agro Romano, all bread had
to be stamped; and the absence of the proper stamp exposed the guilty
baker to a fine of one hundred scudi and corporal punishment, or even
to slavery in the galleys. The inhabitants of this district were only
allowed to use bread baked within it, and they might be compelled to
declare where they got their bread.
Though the tax was temporarily abolished in its last strongholds in the
year 1860, it was subsequently revived, until all the statutes relating
to the subject were finally consolidated in 1874. The tax, which must
now be paid to the miller at the time of grinding, is charged at the
rate of two lire (of about tenpence each) per hundred kilograms on
wheat; and one lira on maize, rye, oats, and barley. The miller pays
periodically to the collector of taxes a corresponding fixed charge
for every hundred revolutions of the millstone, to be ascertained by
an instrument called _contatore_, which is affixed to the shaft at the
cost of the government. The amount of this charge is determined for
every mill according to the quality and force of the machinery and the
mode of grinding. The miller may refuse the rate as first calculated;
in which case the revenue authorities have the power to employ an
instrument which will record the weight or volume of the corn ground;
or of collecting the tax directly by their own officers, or of farming
the tax. Should they not think fit to exercise such powers, the rate is
determined by experts. The impost, it is perhaps hardly necessary to
say, is an eminently unpopular one, and was only consented to under the
pressure of extreme necessity.
The great difficulty in the way of the smooth working of the grist-tax
was the impossibility of procuring the mechanical means of control
contemplated by the law; and in point of fact, when it came into
operation no effective instrument was in existence. By the end of
August 1871, however, matters had changed, and no fewer than 78,250
registering instruments were supplied, and by 1874 the greater number
of these _contatori_ were in active operation. The _contatore_,
however, does not give universal satisfaction; and Mr Herries thinks
that what is wanted to remove doubts as to fair treatment, is some
instrument capable of recording the weight or the quantity of wheat
ground. Best of all would be the abolition of the grist-tax; but in
a country where the mass of the people consume no articles of luxury
which can be taxed by revenue officers, and also from whom no direct
impost could be exacted, the continuation of the grist-tax seems to be
an absolute necessity.
SWEET LOVE AND I.
Sweet Love and I have strangers been
These many years,
So many years.
He came to me when Life was green
And free from fears,
These present fears.
He came, and for a little space
My life was gladdened by his grace;
But soon he fled, and joy gave place
To grief and tears.
'O Love, come to me once again!'
My lone heart sighs,
So sadly sighs.
'Recall thy fearless nature, then,
Sweet Love replies,
Softly replies.
'Thou canst not? Then I cannot be
The same that once I was to thee.
There's no room in the heart for me,
Where fears arise.'
A. C. S.
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