Chambers's Journal 1899-12-30: Vol 3 Iss 109

the

yuld

Chambers Journa

SIXTH S ERIES-

|LD lamps for new!’ cried Aladdin
through the streets of Bagdad,
and from all sides came careful
housewives with lamps—good, bad,
and indifferent—happy to give
them in exchange for the untried
new. They were eager to drive such a bargain,
and derided the fool who offered them new wares
for old; but, reading further in the story, we
discover who was really the fool, and laugh at
him for being so easily persuaded to part with
the priceless treasure of the wonderful lamp.

The wily Oriental understood human nature ;
he knew that the ordinary individual cannot
resist what is new, up to date, the latest mode.
It was so in ancient Bagdad, and it is so in our
modern world, The craze for novelties keeps
trade going, and fills shop windows with useless,
badly-made rubbish, priced at elevenpence three-
farthings. Where would Fashion hide her head
if Society refused to buy what is new, even when
startlingly ugly ; wearing it till the next novelty
appears, then casting it aside? Even the gardener
cannot be contented with the flowers as Nature
provides them, but must needs labour to give us
blue roses and green carnations.

It is true there are among us some who remain
faithful to the old, and others who are ready to
believe that what is proved and tried is best
worth having. But we are apt to jeer at them
because they continue to wear the worn old coat
that clings comfortably to every curve of their
figure, and know the value of old shoes moulded
by age and use to fit the foot. Such a man fully
appreciates the civilisation of an Eastern city,
where it is possible to buy in the bazaars shoes
made easy by wear, for a larger price than those
that have yet to be walked into supple comfort.
Here also for a small sum a slave can be hired
to take the shine off your red-leather slippers and
the stiffness out of your embroidered and tinsel-
bedecked evening pumps. Ah! that is a land
where one learns to look upon the neat, the highly-
polished, the well-brushed garment as the vulgar
trapping of tourists who come and stare with

No. 109.—Vo.. III.

[All Rights Reserved. }

ORS

OLD LAMPS FOR

NEW.

vacant eyes on the beautiful past, and criticise with
laughter a civilisation that has long outgrown
the stirring activity and fussy self-consciousness
of middle-life; having settled into the venerable
composure and wise restraint of mature age, and
being content to enjoy life as it is, without striving
to keep up appearances and live up to date.
After all, we know—even the most modern of

us—that the best things are improved with
keeping, such as old homes, old wines, and old
friends. Our Yankee cousins and our brothers
from Australia boast of new lands and new laws;
but each one of them is silenced when he stands
on the turf that owes its beauty to centuries of
still growth, and looks up to the carved stonework,

When buttress and buttress, alternately,

Seem framed of ebon and ivory ;

When silver edges the imagery

And the scrolls that teach us to live and die;
and hears through the ever-open door prayers,
hallowed by the joys and sorrows of generations
of worshippers, offered up before venerable altars.

Strange it is to find a continual struggle to

procure the very newest, the gaudily glittering,
the still unproved, in that market-place where
are bought and sold the lamps that enlighten
the mind, and that have the magic power of
throwing a bright radiance on the very dreariest
of lives. Spend but half-an-hour in a popular
lending library, and watch the customers coming
in laden with armfuls of books to be exchanged
for others; they have in all likelihood been taken
out the day before—indeed, it is necessary to frame
a bylaw preventing any book being exchanged on
the day it has been taken out; they have been
skimmed through and forgotten, or the remem-
brance of them remains in that part of the brain
provided for stowing away rubbish. If in the con-
tinuous stream of men and women there is one
who asks for an old book the librarian is positively
startled. ‘May I ask you to repeat the name?’ he
says politely, to allow himself time to recover from
his surprise. ‘Yes, it is sure to be in. Kindly
wait until I find it’ Then, with the help of a
long ladder, he fetches it from some high shelf ;
DEc. 30, 1899.

66

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

or, lighting a lantern, he gropes in the cellar until
he discovers it, dusty, tattered, and smelling of
age. And he who had the wit to ask for it
carries it home full of triumph. He keeps it to
read when the work of the day is done, when
all disturbing people are safely to bed; and
through the quiet hours he reads and ponders
over it, and re-reads it, and sets forth to find
another of its kind.

One hears for ever the complaint that it is
impossible to find a book fit to read; that new
ones are hard to get hold of, and libraries and
librarians are blamed and pronounced to be out
of date and behind the times. All the while,
silently waiting in patient rows, in the very rooms
we live in, stand the great masterpieces of our
literature. Since our childhood we have been
familiar with their solemn appearance, but we
have never thought of peeping between their
boards, And so we eagerly struggle to get the
last new book, say of travel, Sitting in comfort,
well fed and well warmed, it is pleasant to read
of a man calculating, in the snows of Siberia, if
his tinned soup will last out the journey he has
mapped out, or if it will fail, obliging him to
turn back. The style is simple and may be read
without effort; the pages are enlivened by snap-
shots of queer people. We wonder a little why
our hero faces such discomfort, and have a sus-
picion that he writes artfully to give us the full
measure of sensation for the money. Yet we read
book after book of the same sort, and are ever
on the lookout for still more sensational ones by
the same author. But take down from the top
shelf that dingy old volume and read of the
travellers of old; not tourists or newspaper-
paid explorers, with kodaks and patent food done
up in small compass, the strength of one ox in a
single pint-pot, but of those who set forth in
tiny ships with scant provisions, unaided by science,
trusting in God alone. In the midst of the
tempest they cry out that they know not fear,
for they are nearer to God on sea than on land.
It is the best of reading, wholesome and bracing
as the lives of the men whose adventures are told.

What is more stirring than the story of Columbus
setting forth to discover a new world, as we may
read it in the pages of Washington Irving? We

follow him through years of hardship, when he
seems but a madman with one idea. When Queen
Isabella deigns to listen to his story and aid him
we have some faith in his enterprise ; we rejoice
with him when, after overcoming many difficulties,
he at last gets together ships, stores, and crews.
But, with his men, our hearts fail us when day
after day we drift in empty seas; starvation or
drowning is before us, and the horror of the
unknown. We can hardly believe with our great
captain that the world is round ; that we are bound
to return to where we sailed from. The end of
the sea, the edge of the world, lies before us!
Then comes the wonderful night when lights are
seen moving on the black horizon, coming and
going, moving slowly as if carried by men. In
the morning green weeds drift by the ship—not
such as grow in the ocean. Then dim shores
are seen in the far distance—not a cloud, but
low-lying land. America is found. Columbus
calls his men together and they sing the Te Deum.

So it is with history, lives, novels, and essays:
the best are those that have stood the test of time.
They are worth keeping until wanted; some
day we shall turn to them for some special pur-
pose, at some time in our lives when we require
them. Surely it is as well worth our pains to
spend time and thought and money on _ the
storing of our book-shelves as on the storing
of our larders; in both we want a_ good
supply of solid wholesome food as well as more
fanciful dainties. Furthermore, we must have
wine—old, well-seasoned port to stimulate and
refresh us when faint and weary; or even some
lighter sparkling vintage to cheer us when all is
dull and depressing.

‘In Books lies the soul of the whole Past Time ;
the articulate audible voice of the Past, when
the body and material substance of it has alto-
gether vanished like a dream,’ writes Carlyle. And
again: ‘All that Mankind has done, thouglit,
gained, or been is lying as in magic preservation
in the pages of Books. They are the chosen
possessions of men.’ Therefore, if we possess a
treasure—a wonderful lamp—let us not cast it
aside, attracted by what is merely new, a novelty
that strikes our fancy but has not yet been proved
worthy of our acceptance.

OF ROYAL

BLOOD.

A STORY OF THE SECRET SERVICE.
CHAPTER V.—THE STATEMENT OF ANN PRIMROSE.

OR a few seconds I stood inactive,
horrified, gazing upon the white
face whence the light of life had
faded. So suddenly had I made
this ghastly discovery that at first
I was unable to realise that the

man who had been so full of activity and good-

humour was now a corpse. Even while I had

tz HSS ii

been in conversation with this woman, who was
his wife, he had been lying there dead ; and
then, as I reflected, the truth—a vivid and dis-
concerting one—was suddenly revealed to me: by
Gordon’s death my power over this woman had
vanished ; my future was in her hands. And too
well I knew that she would be merciless.

Again I placed my fingers upon the chill

OF ROYAL BLOOD, 67

face, and then chafed the thin, stiffening hands ;
but those wide-open glaring eyes, in which the
film of death had already gathered, told me that
life had fled. The honest, true-hearted man, my
comrade through my early years of wild-oat sowing,
had been snatched away with a suddenness that
was appalling.

Then, the suggestion oceurring to me that after
all he might be only in a state of unconscious-
ness, and that medical aid might succeed in re-
suscitating him, I rushed through into the dining-
room and touched the electric button. Opening
the door, I listened for the approach of some one ;
but all seemed strangely silent.

The great square hall, with its black-oak stair-
ease and balcony above, was but dimly lit, and
there was an ominous stillness everywhere. I
rushed across to the drawing-room, under the im-
pression that the dead man’s wife might still be
there; but that chamber was in darkness; the
electrit light had been switched off.

Again I rang the bell violently, and then,
standing in the hall, shouted loudly for help.
My voice echoed through the house, but no one
stirred,

Why, I wondered, had every one deserted the
place like that? Surely this woman, who was
my enemy, must have known all along that my
threats were unavailing now that the man who
had made her his wife was lying cold and dead.

Having failed to obtain assistance, I went back
to the little study and myself tried to arouse
him ; but from the first moment of the discovery
I knew that all efforts were futile. He had lain
down there calmly and passed away in peaceful
silence, for his face was in no way distorted.
Only the fact that his hands were clenched
showed that the last sting of death had caused
him pain, The room seemed chill and draughty,
and on examination I was surprised to find,
behind the drawn curtains, that the long window
leading out upon the small sloping lawn was
ajar—a fact in itself suspicious.

Could it be possible that Gordon had been the
victim of foul play? Such suggestion, however,
was quickly put aside by the recollection that a
telegram had been received at the Foreign Office
announcing his indisposition. He had no doubt
been taken ill suddenly, and died from some un-
known natural cause.

I had closed the window, when, on glancing
round the room, my attention was attracted by a
smell of tobacco-smoke, and I saw on the table an
ash-tray wherein were ashes and the end of a
freshly-smoked cigar. Had Gordon smoked before
his death, or had he received some male visitor ?

Yet another curious fact greatly perplexed me.
In the fireplace was a quantity of tinder, the
remains of some voluminous document which had
recently been destroyed. One tiny portion of the
paper remained, charred but not consumed. I
picked it out carefully, and on examining it was

amazed to discover that the paper was of that
peculiar tint and texture used in the French
Foreign Office. Surely Gordon could not have
destroyed some compromising papers in his posses-
sion, and then afterwards deliberately committed
suicide ?

Whatever the explanation, there was no doubt
that some secret papers had been burnt there,
and, further, that these papers were not English.
The window leading to the garden being open
lent colour to the theory that some one had
passed out of the house by that means. Again, the
flight of Judith and the absence of the servants
were all circumstances of gravest suspicion.

The room wherein my friend was lying was
more of a smoking-room than study. True, there
was a large writing-table at the end, and a couple
of well-filled bookcases; but the cane rocking-
chairs, the long deck-chair with its holders in
the arms for the big glass of whisky and soda,
and the two smoking-tables, showed that its owner
was more fond of ease than of study.

On glancing around the writing-table I saw
something unusual on the blotting-pad, and bent
to examine it. The paper was white, but dis-
coloured by a great stain of bright yellow. This
was still damp, and on smelling it I found it to
be some acid ; but what it was I could not deter-
mine. Just, however, at the moment when I
held the pad in my hand I heard a movement
behind me, and, turning quickly with a start,
perceived a young woman fully dressed in neat
black. She seemed equally surprised to discover
me there; but without a moment’s hesitation I
demanded, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Ann, sir, she answered, drawing back as
if in fear of me.

‘Are you one of the servants here?’ I said,
recognising her.

‘Yes, sir,’

‘Then why are you going out?’

‘I’ve only just come in, sir, she replied.
‘There’s nobody in the house, so I came here to
see if either master or mistress were here.’

‘Your master is there,’ I answered, pointing to
the couch.

‘What!’ she cried in alarm. ‘Is he unwell?’

‘Were you not aware of his illness?’ I in-
quired.

‘No, sir” she answered. ‘He went out at the
usual hour this morning, and had not returned
when I left at three o’clock.’

‘Why did you go out?’

‘It was my afternoon out, sir.
me an extra two hours.’

In this latter statement I scented material for
suspicion,

‘Why did she give you extra leave?’ I de-
manded.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ the girl responded,
is master very ill?
asked anxiously.

Mistress gave

‘But
Can I do anything?’ she

\

68 CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

‘No, I replied; ‘you can do nothing, except
to tell me all you know of this affair. Where’s
your mistress ?’

‘Gone out, I suppose, sir. I’ve been through
all the bedrooms, but there’s no one in the
house at all—no dinner ready, or anything.
But is master sleeping?’ she added, with increased
anxiety.

‘No, I said, fearing to tell her the truth, lest
she should go off into hysterics or do something
equally annoying. In this matter calmness was
essential, and I was determined to learn from her
all I could. ‘How long have you been in Mrs
Clunes’s service ?’

‘Ever since they were married, sir.’

‘And you had a good place here?’ I asked.

‘I can’t grumble. I don’t get many Sundays
out, but mistress is very kind and thoughtful
of us.’ i

‘How many are you?’

‘Three, sir—cook, another housemaid, and
myself,’

‘And you have no knowledge of where your
two fellow-servants have gone?’

‘None whatever. They were here when I went
out.’

‘And your mistress ?’

‘She went out immediately after luncheon,’

‘Then your master was not at home ill to-day?’
I exclaimed in surprise.

‘No, sir. He went out about ten, as he usually
does, to catch his train to London; but I noticed
that he was dressed differently than is usual,’

‘How?’ I asked quickly.

‘He wore a low felt hat instead of his tall silk
one, and had on an old tweed suit that’s quite
shabby. When I saw him go out I wondered at
him dressing so badly. He’s always so very
smart—neat as a new pin, as the saying is,’

This was certainly a remarkable fact. At the
Foreign Office a telegram had been received an-
nouncing his indisposition, while at the same
time he had gone forth in what was apparently
a disguise. It was not like Gordon to go to
London in an old tweed suit.

‘And after your master had left what oc-
curred?’ I inquired, determined to sift this
matter to the bottom.

‘Nothing,’ she responded. ‘There was only one
caller—a gentleman.’

‘A gentleman !’ I cried. ‘Who was he?’

‘I don’t know, sir, she replied.

‘Now, my girl, I said earnestly, ‘in this
matter you must be perfectly frank. It is most
important in your master’s interests that I should
know all that has occurred here to-day, You,
of course, recollect that I dined here a little time
ago. I remember now that you waited at table,
although at first, in your hat and veil, I failed to
recognise you.’

‘Certainly, sir; I’m quite ready to tell you, or
master, all I know.’

‘Well, with regard to this gentleman—was
he merely an ordinary-looking man, or was
there anything about him which struck you as
peculiar ?’

‘There was nothing extraordinary,’ she answered,
with a puzzled look. No doubt she thought my
words strange ones. Her name was Primrose, she
had informed me. ‘He merely asked for mistress,
and when I inquired his name he said it was
Christian. I asked him into this room, and mis-
tress, when I told her he had called, seemed
just a trifle excited. Her face went red, and she
seemed at first annoyed that he should call so
early, for she hadn't quite finished dressing her
hair.’

‘And what then?’

‘She finished hastily with my assistance, and
went down to him. He remained there fully
half-an-hour, then went away laughing.’

‘Did you overhear any of their conversation ?’

‘No. I think he was a foreigner, for they
spoke French, or some foreign language, and they
spoke it so quickly and loudly that it seemed
once or twice as though they were quarrelling.
Mistress is an excellent linguist, you know.’

‘Yes, I know she is,’ I answered, smiling
grimly. ‘But this man was an entire stranger—
wasn't he?’

‘I’d never seen him before.’

‘Young or old?’

‘About thirty-five or perhaps forty, and rather
tall and fair.’

‘With a moustache pointing upwards?’

‘No; his moustache was short and bristly, and
he had a light beard, the maid replied. ‘He
was rather thin, and wore a light drab overcoat
tightly buttoned.’

‘Did he speak English well?’

‘Yes; quite well. Indeed, I thought he was
English until the bell rang and I went to the
dining-room, when I heard mistress speaking to
him in a foreign tongue. She was standing near
the fireplace, while he was seated in that arm-
chair over there, the one master always sits in.
He seemed quite at home, and mistress ordered
me to bring him some brandy and soda.’

‘Then you left the room and heard no more?’

‘Not until the bell rang again and I showed
him out,’

‘And then?’ I asked.

‘When he’d gone mistress flew into a great
rage. She said it was abominable that people
should call so early.’

‘But she treated him very courteously when
he was present ?’

‘Very. I, however, didn’t like him, He seemed
to treat mistress just a trifle too familiarly.
Perhaps, however, it was only his foreign way.
Foreigners hold different views to us, I’ve heard
it said’

‘Well,’ I exclaimed, ‘continue your story. What
happened after that?’

inq'
6

mot
tun
ope!
had

OF ROYAL BLOOD.

‘Mistress spent some little time in the study,
writing letters, I think; then she lunched alone,
and afterwards went out.’

‘Was she dressed as though she intended mak-
ing visits?’

‘Not at all. I assisted her to dress, and re-
marked that, although the day was fine, shi
seemed, like master, to have a leaning towards an
oll dress. She put on an old blue serge and a
sailor hat, a thing which she’d put away since
last summer, and she seemed in a hurry either to
catch a train or to keep some appointment.’

‘Has she many friends here in Richmond?’ I
inquired.

‘Oh yes, lots.
At Home day.’

‘And you went out soon after she did?’

‘Yes. I went over to Kingston to see my
mother, and then on to Surbiton. When I re-
turned I went round to the back door, found it
open, and came in; but, to my surprise, everybody
had gone. The place was deserted. To tell you
the truth, sir, when I first saw you peering about
master’s writing-table, which we are forbidden to
touch, I thought you were a burglar,’

‘That’s not surprising, I answered, with a
smile. ‘But this affair, 1 may as well tell you at

We’re generally crowded on her

first, is a most serious one.’
‘Serious? What do you mean, sir?’ she asked,
starting at my words and looking at me in sur-

prise,

‘During your absence something mysterious has
occurred. I don’t know any more of it than you
do. I only know the terrible truth,

‘And what’s that?’ she demanded breathlessly.

‘That your poor master is lying in there—dead !’

‘Dead !’ she gasped, growing pale. ‘Dead! It
can’t be true.’

‘It is true,’ I responded. ‘I found him here
not long ago. Look for yourself.’

The trembling girl crossed the room on tiptoe
and gazed into the face of her master. It needed
no second glance to convince her that she was in
presence of the dead.

‘It’s terrible, sir—terrible !’ she gasped, drawing
back pale with horror. ‘Surely he can’t really be
dead 2?

‘Yes, I answered. ‘There is no doubt about
it—absolutely no doubt; but whether it is the
result of natural causes or of foul play it is
impossible at present to tell.’

‘Do you suspect, then, that he’s been murdered,
sir?’ she inquired in a low, terrified voice.

‘I suspect nothing,’ I said. ‘I entered here
and found him exactly as you see him now. The
window, too, was open, Some one might have
escaped by it!

‘Ah !—the window!’ she said. ‘I recollect
opening it this morning at mistress’s orders. She
declared that the room smelt stuffy,’

‘Was it often open ??

‘It hadn’t Leen opened all the winter until to-
day, when I picked out the strips of cloth with
which the cracks had been plugged up. Master
always declared that there was an unbearable
draught from it, so one day last October I helped
mistress to seal it up altogether,’

‘There was no other reason why it should be
opened, except because the place was stuffy, was
there ?’

‘None whatever. It was a fine day, of course,
and I suppose mistress thought well to freshen
up the room. I must say that the tobacco-smoke
is very thick here sometimes when master has
two or three friends. But, poor master! I really
can’t believe it,’ she added, looking at him kindly
again. ‘He was always so considerate towards
us. I can’t think what’s become of cook and
Mary.’

‘Rather think of your mistress,’ I said.
a blow this will be to her!’

The girl glanced at me curiously, as if trying
to discern how much I knew.

‘Yes,’ she sighed, but refrained from further
comment, a fact which went to confirm my
opinion that this domestic knew much more than
she had already told me.

‘Were your master and mistress always on
good terms?’ I asked.

‘ Always,’ the girl promptly replied.
devoted to each other.’

I smiled. The idea of that woman, whom I
had half-an-hour before threatened with exposure,
being devoted to anybody was to me amusing.
That she knew of her husband’s death was cer-
tain, yet after her ominous words to me she had
left the house, leaving me alone with the corpse
of my friend.

I recollected now how my appearance had caused
her confusion, and how she had greeted me with
a hollow courtesy. Undoubtedly I had arrived
at a very inopportune moment, and it seemed
equally certain that the two other servants were
fully aware that their master had passed away.

Gordon’s wife had fled, and that in itself was
sufficient to arouse suspicion ; while, on the other
hand, my friend’s own actions, in sending the
telegram of excuse to the Foreign Office and in
going out in unusual attire, complicated the puzzle
to an extraordinary degree.

Lord Macclesfield had sent me there to hear
some strange statement; but the lips that had
uttered those words which had startled and in-
terested the great statesman were now silent for
ever,

I stood gazing upon that white face, so calm
and tranquil in death, and pondered deeply.

Yes; that some grave, extraordinary mystery
surrounded my friend’s decease I felt convinced.

(Tv be continued.)

‘What

‘They were

70 CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

FOREST

DEVASTATION.

By E. A. Funr.

OM the first attempts to colonise
North America, and through several
generations into this very nine-
teenth century, sylvan vegetation
ae was regarded by the pioneers of
European civilisation as hostile to
their enterprise. Benefits were no doubt conferred
by the woods. They supplied the settlers with
material for the construction of their block-houses,
with palisades for their fortifications, with furs
and fuel to protect them against the severity of a
North American winter, and with venison, fish,
wild fowl, edible roots, and herbs and berries in
abundance. But the primeval forest was a most
formidable obstacle to exploration, and in its
sombre depths lurked the ruthless savages, ever
ready to pounce upon the pale-faced intruders and
slaughter them—men, women, and children—in-
discriminately and without mercy.

All this is changed. Since the early part of this
century the primeval forest has been mastered
completely, and in later years there has been such
reckless cutting down of timber almost everywhere
that the woodland area of the United States is now
reduced to only five hundred and eighty million
acres, or not quite 23 per cent. of the total surface
measurement ; while the proportion in Canada is
still 37 per cent. In both countries the work of
devastation proceeds incessantly. Everywhere in
the interior of Canada wood remains the only
article of fuel; and although in the United
States mineral coal is now extensively raised,
enormous quantities of wood are required for
manufacturing purposes, In 1894 two thousand
American factories produced six hundred and
fifty thousand tous of celluloid ; and up to date
this industry has been much further developed.
Moreover, the States export huge masses of timber
to Europe, and there is, so far, no organised
system of state protection ; but warning voices are
heard at last, both in the States and in Canada,
pointing out the danger of indiscriminate deforest-
ing, and advocating the establishment of a state
authority on the European plan of systematic forest
conservation. The present woodland area, in pro-
portion to the whole surface measurement of the
five parts of our globe, has been roughly estimated
as follows: Europe, 31 per cent.; Asia, 20 per
cent. ; Africa, 20 per cent. ; America, 21 per cent. ;
Australia, 20 per cent.

Europe, whose climate is such as to render
woods less urgently needed, is thus much better
provided than Africa, which is densely wooded
only in parts of its equatorial region, while in
the north and south forests are exceedingly scarce.
In Cape Colony, for instance, only 24 per cent. of
the surface is covered with timber growing along

the river-beds, Elsewhere the couutry is almost
bare, or covered with tangled scrub. Hence the
Colonial Government offers large premiums to
farmers for planting trees, and the creation of a
special forest service is only a question of time.
In some parts of Central Africa, on the other hand,
a vast and almost impenetrable forest still impedes
exploration. Sir H. M. Stanley and others have
graphically described it. Vegetation was found so
dense and luxuriant that tunnels had to be cut with
saws and axes; and while elephants and other wild
animals could be plainly heard, they were scarcely
ever sighted, so opaque were the leafy walls.

Of the whole of Asia, Japan is by far the most
richly wooded part, being covered with timber to
the extent of 46 per cent. of its total area; and
in Australasia. nearly one-third of New Zealand
is covered with forest. Bulgaria with 72 and
Portugal with only 2-9 per cent. mark the opposite
extremes in European states,

For Great Britain and Ireland the propor-
tion is only 3 per cent. —namely, 48° for
England, 4°5 for Scotland, 35 for Wales, and
barely 16 for Ireland. A multitude of large,
park-like demesnes and the prevalence of hedge-
rows lend to the rural scenery of Great Britain a
charm akin to sylvan beauty. By giving shade,
protection from the wind, and shelter to cattle
and birds, hedges are also of practical utility, and
present an agreeable contrast to the sad-looking
loose-stone walls of Ireland. The idea of reforest-
ing that country on an extensive scale has been
mooted over and over again, and no doubt, if a
systematic plan were carried through regardless of
expense, material as well as esthetic advantages
would ultimately accrue. The scheme should
include all suitable mountain slopes now covered
with heather or bog. Bog-slides, which often prove
so destructive to the valleys under culture, would
thereby be averted, the landscape beauty of the
country enhanced, so as to afford greater attraction
to tourists, and many of the poorest inhabitants
provided with healthy and profitable employment.
In most cases the soil is best fitted for growing
needlewood, If firs and pines were planted, a
moderate profit-reut might be expected after the
lapse of twenty-five or thirty years. But Irish
landlords, whose rent-rolls are dwindling, cannot
be expected to do much, and English capitalists hold
cautiously aloof because the political outlook,
although much improved of late, is not as yet
such as to inspire absolute confidence. Active
interference on the part of Government, as in the
case of light railways, would work wonders, but
at too large an expenditure for any ordinary
Chancellor of the Exchequer to advocate in Par-
liament, Reforesting in Ireland will therefore be

——

limit
alrea
Be
statis
area
differ
relial
25'8 ;
20°2 ;
73 I
Swed
56; '
i
In
easte:
they
and
durit
has |
Hun
parts
the
quen
the «
impc
soutl
rare
irrig
of t
by 1
Peni
cious
ance
thro
sle
heavy
capa
volu
Cun:
occa
and
unle
an i
wate
heed
hou
the
peal
Wat
nig
und
The
woo
fore
Vast
alre
to
vas!
fore
alth
esti
exa

—oe SS er OO FF

rea |&

FOREST DEVASTATION. 71

limited to partial attempts, some of which have
already proved moderately successful.

Between the two extremes mentioned, European
statistics of forest-lands in proportion to the total
area present almost all conceivable degrees of
difference. According to the newest and most
reliable returns, the percentage is, in Germany,
25°8 ; Austria, 32°6; Hungary, 27:9; Switzerland,
20'2; France, 17; Italy, 11°8; Spain, 17 ; Holland,
7; Belgium, 13; Luxemburg, 30; Denmark, 6 ;
Sweden, 34; Norway, 24; Russia, 37; Finland,
56; Turkey, 9; Bosnia, 45 ; Servia, 10 ; Roumania,
17; Greece, 13.

In Europe forests abound in the northern,
eastern, and some of the central regions, while
they are scarcest along the north-western, western,
and southern coasts. Those countries in which,
during the last fifty years, most forest devastation
has taken place are: Spain, Switzerland, Austria-
Hungary, Sweden, Norway, and Russia. Many
parts of Spain have had their water-supply, and
the fertility dependent on it, impaired in conse-
quence ; and Spain is of all European countries
the one for which irrigation is of the most vital
importance, considering that in the central and
southern parts next to no rain falls in summer,
rare thunder-showers excepted. What. artificial
irrigation can do is shown by the luxuriant fertility
of the kingdom of Valencia, although its soil is
by no means the best. Travellers who visit the
Peninsula in the dry season wonder at the capa-
ciousness of the river-beds, presenting the appear-
ance of an arid wilderness of sand and pebbles,
through which a mere rill of water meanders like a
slender thread. The picture abruptly changes after
heavy rainfall ; an angry torrent rushes along, and,
capacious as the bed is, it can no longer contain the
volume of water pouring down the bare hillsides.
Consequent inundations often cause sad havoc. On
occasions of long-continued drought in Estremadura
and Andalusia all vegetation literally shrivels up
unless manual irrigation is carried through with
an immense expenditure of labour, or where. the
waterworks of the ancient Moors provide the
needful mechanism, as, for instance, in the neigh-
bourhood of Granada. The Vega, as seen from
the heights of the Alhambra, presents the ap-
pearance of an oasis of fertility. It is copiously
watered by a network of conduits fed from
mighty reservoirs hewn out of the solid rock
underneath the castle and its extensive grounds.
The river Darro, which winds its course down the
wooded slopes of the Sierra Nevada, and there-
fore never runs dry, constantly replenishes the
vast receptacles; more than a thousand years old
already, these works of the Moors seem indeed
to bid defiance to time. Through reckless de-
vastation, the once considerable area of state
forests in Spain has greatly dwindled; and
although the proportion of woodlands is still
estimated at 17 per cent., the figure is probably
exaggerated, and should be received with caution.

In Switzerland woods are chiefly communal
property, only 4 per cent. being returned under
the heading of cantonal or state forests. When
exposed to financial pressure, communal authorities,
as well as private owners, are prone to act in a
manner inconsistent with sound economic principle.
Thus the felling of timber in Switzerland is but
too often carried on in altogether unsystematic
and reckless fashion, so that the dangers arising
from avalanches and from the too sudden melting
of the snow in springtime are much enhanced.
Streams like the Rhine, no matter how broad
and deep their bed, can then no longer contain
the volume of water pouring into them, and the
valleys are flooded, to the detriment of agriculture
and industry. In some parts of the country
where the woods are carefully managed, as, for
instance, in the canton of Zug, the revenue derived
from them, without anything like devastation, is
so good that not only the cantonal expenditure
is completely covered by it, but a considerable
surplus remains for distribution among _ the
burghers, even those of them being allowed to
participate who have gone to live abroad.

The forests of Austria cover 24,456,050 acres,
or 32°6 per cent. of the whole surface area; only
106 per cent. being state property. ‘Through
scarcity of money arising out of the many wars
the House of Hapsburg has waged, the rulers of
the country were compelled to part with a vast
amount of woodland property in former times.
Up to the memorable year 1866, which marks a
turning-poiut in Austria’s history, no less than
two and a half million acres of crown forests
were sold ; but since 1872, when the administration
of all state property was vested in the Ministry of
Agriculture, a reversal of policy has taken place,
and an increase of state forests is now observable.
Of Hungarian woods about 15, and of those of
Croatia and Slavonia nearly 20, per cent. belong
to the state. As a rule trans-Leithan forests, in
which oaks and beeches predominate, are much
more valuable than cis-Leithan ones, composed of
needlewood to the extent of 70 per cent. The
country richest in timber under administration of
the double monarchy is the province of Bosnia,
45 per cent. of its total area being forest-clad.
Consumption and export of timber, bark, &e.
continue on a very extensive seale, and the wood-
land area, on the whole, is still diminishing.

In Sweden the state owns about one-fifth, and
in Norway enly a tenth, of existing woodlands,
which are perceptibly dwindling in consequence
of the continual heavy export of timber, more
especially to Great Britain and Ireland, and to the
vast quantities of wood annually consumed by way
of fuel and for such industrial purposes as paper
and match making. Houses in Sweden and Norway
are also, to a large extent, still built of wood.

Of the total forest area of Russia in Europe,
not less than 70 per cent. belongs to the state.
Under financial pressure, great havoc has been

72 CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

made of the timber during the last fifty years,
aud attempts at replanting are few and far
between. The proportion of woodlands to the
total area is, indeed, set down as 37 per cent. ;
but this estimate dates from the year 1890, later
returns not being available. It may safely be
taken for granted that the actual proportion is
much lower. Some years ago an imperial ukase
was issued to check devastation and ordain re-
planting. But it came too late; a vast amount
of mischief had already been wrought, and, more-
over, the regulations were not strictly enforced.
Only 20 per cent. of the woodland area being in
possession of private owners, and about 10 per cent.
the property of corporations and village communes,
less than one-third of the whole is affected by the
law, and the fiscus himself is the chief destroyer.
Most thickly wooded is the north, where three
provinces show a proportion of not less than 70,
and five others of 65, per cent. On the other hand,
the figure in ten of the provinces which form
the South Russian prairie region is only about 6
per cent. Until quite recently wood was the only
article of fuel used in most parts of the empire,
and it remains the principal one up to the present.
Even the boilers of railway locomotives and factory
engines are still, to a large extent, fired with
wood. In the immediate vicinity of railroads and
factories, and for miles around, forests have
disappeared. Vast quantities of timber are ex-
ported annually to Great Britain and Ireland,
Holland, Germany, France, and Belgium. The
value of these exports amounted to £3,500,000 in
1895, and to upwards of £3,000,000 in 1896. The
rapidly growing paper and match manufacturing
industries consume immense quantities of wood.
How heavily the resources of the country are
taxed becomes apparent to the most superficial
and casual observer, as he travels through Russia,
when he beholds the mountains of cut timber
heaped up near railway stations and along the
river-quays of the principal towns, Great gaps
are made in these stacks daily, and there is
constant, busy traffic to fill them up again, of
course to the detriment of the forests, which,
vast as they are, can scarcely bear so heavy and
incessant a strain. Bad harvests in Russia are
due, as a rule, to inundations or periods of long-
continued drought, and both causes are to a large
extent attributable to forest devastation. Hence
there is a logical connection between it and the
famines which have become chronic. That the
volume of many streams has diminished is a
notorious fact. Even the mighty Volga runs
shallower from year to year. Steamers plying on
it only find seven or eight feet of water amid-
stream in summer-time, barely sufficient to allow
them to proceed ; and the large ferry-boats which
keep up the connection from bank to bank can
accomplish their journey only by steering a
devious course. Navigation of the river Don is
much impaired. The source of the Dnieper slides

farther down-stream from year to year, and its
most important tributary, the once mighty Vorskla,
two hundred and fifty miles long and with the
historic town of Pultawa on its banks, now lies
quite dry in summer, Another river, the Bitjuk,
in the region of the Don, is shrivelled up, its
bed and the adjacent lands being covered with
sand and rubble from source to mouth. Perhaps
more disastrous still is the fact that the rainfall
in spring and summer, which was formerly pretty
regular, now fails more or less. Vast tracts of
country, as, for instance, the province of Kazan,
equal in size to the whole of England, are
threatened with famine because last year’s crop
proved a total failure, and a similar calamity is
predicted for a large portion of Southern Russia
this year. Nevertheless, lavish expenditure of
wood at home and export abroad are going on
unchecked, and the consequences are obvious.

In other European countries the proportion of
state forests to ihe total woodland area is as fol-
lows: Great Britain, 4 per cent. ; France, 10°6 per
cent. ; Germany, 33 per cent. ; Italy, 2 per cent. ;
Denmark, 25 per cent.; Greece, 80 per cent. ;
Servia, 25 per cent. It may be affirmed, as a
general principle, that wherever the state par-
ticipates most largely in forest property the
best care is taken to conserve and to replant.
Russia is perhaps the only exception to this rule,
for the special reasons already assigned. Generally
speaking the state is prompted in its action not
merely by fiscal necessities but by regard for
the common good, and its example exercises an
educational influence upon private owners and
communes, who, in cutting down timber, are more
exclusively swayed by motives of self-interest, if
not constrained by financial pressure.

The small actual percentage of state forests in
France is mainly due to the extensive sales made
at former periods, for instance during the Bourbon
restoration to the extent of 400,000, and in the
time of the Second Empire of about 180,000
acres. A large proportion of the woodlands
owned by public institutions or village communes
are, however, under the control and management
of the state, and, on the whole, the administration
is conducted with care and efficiency.

The German Empire remains well provided
with forests, covering an area of about 33,000,000
acres, They are most thickly distributed over
Thuringia, the Black Forest region, the Hartz
Mountains, the Weser country, and the Bavarian
Highlands, while the north-western coast-lands are
sparsely provided. Well husbanded, these German
woodlands yield huge masses of timber annually,
and yet not nearly enough to cover the demand
for constructive purposes. In 1897, 4,069,000 tons
were imported from abroad : 1,672,000 from Russia,
1,509,000 from Austria-Hungary, 454,000 from
Sweden and Norway, and 204,000 from the United
States. The value of these imports came to up-
wards of £11,000,000. Exported were only 348,000

whi

of

mu
Fra
ups
of

geo
wat
atm
lev
lim
<OV
fact
the

by

or

thi
con
ver

-ope

fore

Ew

ese vre@Tetw wv FF we roa aS SS *seF SE OTS US

aor Bee =

FOREST DEVASTATION. , 73

tons, worth about £1,000,0U0, leaving a surplus of
import over export equal to 3,721,000 tons, about
£10,000,000 in value. Compared with the total
consumption of timber throughout the empire,
this net import amounts to about 40 per cent.
Of oak-bark, for tanning purposes, 400,000 tons
are annually required in Germany and only
95,000 produced at home, so that upwards of
300,000 tons have to be drawn from other coun-
tries, chiefly Hungary and France. Even in point
of political economy, it is, therefore, of the utmost
importance for Germany to keep up her forests
and add to them. That the various governments
are alive to this duty, and perform it with general
efficiency, must be admitted. Since the founda-
tion of tlhe new empire in 1870 there have
been two statistical returns of the total area
covered with timber, the first in 1878 and the
second in 1893, Comparison shows the woodland
area to have been increased by new plantations
to the extent of 585,000 acres (or 1°7 per cent.)
during the fifteen years, while 375,000 acres
of timber (or 1'1 per cent.) were cut down, thus
showing a net increase of 210,000 acres, equal
to 06 per cent. of the whole, 170,000 of which
belong to Prussia, and the rest to Oldenburg and
Mecklenburg in the north, and Baden, Wiirtemberg,
and Bavaria in the south. The largest amount of
deforesting took place in the kingdom of Saxony,
where population is densest and industry most
widely developed. Here timber to the extent of
7 per cent. of the total woodland area was cut
down during the fifteen years, and a large portion
of the material thus obtained yielded celluloid for
paper-making. All the land suitable for forest cul-
ture which now remains available for that purpose
throughout the empire is estimated as equal to
about 6 per cent. of the whole woodland area.
Farests were formerly believed to exercise a
determining influence upon climate, and to operate
as an essential factor in the subterranean feeding
of springs. Modern observations, conducted with
much skill and care by prominent experts, in
France, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland have
upset these theories to some extent. The climate
of countries is in the first place determined by
geographical position, the way in which land and
water are distributed, by oceanic currents, and
atmospheric influences ; also by elevation above sea-
level and configuration of surface. Only within
limits more narrowly confined can the vegetable
covering of the soil, along with many other
factors, play an important part. Variations in
the temperature of the soil are, indeed, lessened
by forests more or less decidedly the denser

or scantier their growth, and the thicker or

thinner their litter of moss, dead leaves, fir-
cones, needles, &c.; but this influence is never
very great, and does not extend far into the
open country. Compared with the latter, the
forest-soil in the west and centre of continental
Europe shows a temperature somewhat lower in

summer and higher in winter. The difference
is slight, however—about 0°6 centigrade, and
never exceeding 1 degree. Underneath the tree-
tops the air is, if at all, only to an_insig-
nificant extent more saturated with moisture than
in the open country. Among the tops themselves,
and immediately above them, however, a consider-
ably greater amount of moisture prevails, which
fact bears out the theory that forests augment the
rainfall. By merely mechanical action they also
effect an increase in the amount of rain or snow,
arresting atmospheric currents replete with mois-
ture, and causing them to condense. Forests afford
protection against the winds by abating their
destroying and scorching power. From 22 to 34
per cent. of the rainfall is absorbed by the
woodland foliage. About one-half of this moisture
returns to the air almost immediately through
evaporation, and the remainder trickles slowly
down the stems. What reaches the ground is to
a large extent absorbed by the litter, so that
gentle rain does not penetrate into the woodland
soil at all. Hence it is an exaggeration to say
that the feeding of springs is mainly the work of
the forests, and many reports as to the felling
of timber having caused springs to dry up should
be received with caution. Nevertheless it can
scarcely be doubted that the arboreal covering of
the woodland soil exercises a certain amount of
influence on the copiousness of the subterranean
supply, more especially in mountainous regions.

Of great importance is the action of the
forests in regularly feeding the surface-waters by
retarding the absorption of rain. When the snow
melts, the capillary action of the litter above the
surface, and of the network of large and small
roots below, retards the downward flow of water,
thus preventing both the sudden swelling and the
drying up of streams. Crumbling rocks and
rubble soil are held together by these roots, and
the carrying away of particles into the water-
courses is obviated, or at any rate delayed.
Notoriously the presence of detritus has proved
fatal to the navigation of streams whiere it
appeared in large quantities.

Very essential, also, is the action of forest roots
in binding sand. Not only along the coasts but
in the plains of the interior large layers of drift-
sand often occur. The total area of these shoals
of sand is estimated at no less than 250,000
acres in France and 82,000 in Prussia. Prior
to the reign of Napoleon I., however, their
extent in France was much greater. By an im-
perial decree of 14th December 1810 more than
2,000,000 acres of sandy desert were ordered to be
converted into woodland, and the work was executed
in due course, the districts chiefly benefited being
Les Landes and the Gironde. Of Prussian sandbeds
about 40,000 acres were considered dangerous to
adjacent fields, and since 1881 nearly three-fourths
have been planted with firs or pines, while in the
remainder the work is still going on.

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

In addition to these more essential features, the
conservation of woodlands involves a number of
minor advantages by no means to be despised,
for by them the poorest classes are benefited to
a degree which, in Germany at any rate, partly
accounts for the fact that there is no abject
poverty. Most important is perhaps the utilisation
of dead leaves, needles, moss, ferns, &e. as litter
fur cattle, thus producing most valuable manure.
The total value of these deposits in Germany has
been estimated at £24,000,000; and even though
only a small portion—-about 3 per cent.—can be
withdrawn annually without risk or danger, the
resulting benefit still amounts to the handsome sum
of £720,000 a year, reaped almost exclusively by
the small peasant proprietors and by the agri-
cultural labourers who keep cattle. In bad seasons
forest pasture and the grass growing in the clear-
ings have likewise proved of value. The gathering
of fallen branches, of medicinal herbs, beech-
nuts, acorns, fir-cones, resin, mushrooms, and wood-
berries, affords healthful and profitable employ-
ment to that part of the working-class population
which has the worst chance of earning—namely,
women and children. All the articles enumerated,
with the exception of fallen branches, can be
collected and taken away by any one without let
or hindrance, while only such persons as are
known to be reliable may gather fallen wood.
On payment of the annual fee of sixpence special
permits to that effect are granted by the forest
authorities. The importance of some of these
minor privileges in the economic life of the
German people is illustrated by the fact that
from one railway station—that of Celle, in the
province of Hanover—3182 cwt. of cranberries and
bilberries were despatched in one summer, and
that in only one ranger’s district of the province
of Pomerania such berries to the value of £5000

COMEDY ON

to £7000 are annually collected and brought to
market. :

Another matter of great importance is the
amount of wages earned in forest labour at the
very times when agriculture affords least em-
ployment, The annual sum thus paid in Ger-
many fluctuates between £6,000,000 to £7,000,000,
and quarter of a willion of families, or about one
million heads of the population, are to a large
extent maintained thereby.

On the other hand, the preservation of game
can scarcely be deemed an economic benefit, as
far as Continental countries are concerned. The
yield in venison, leather, and furs is fully neutra-
lised by the damage to agriculture and to the
forest itself. Scotland is differently situated. The
high rents paid by wealthy English sportsmen for
permission to shoot over Highland moors and
forests constitute no doubt an economic benefit of
considerable importance, as will be seen in Mr
Grimble’s forthcoming article in this Journal on
‘Highland Sport and Highland Prosperity.’

While the practical advantages derived from the
careful maintenance of forests are numerous and
important, wsthetic considerations likewise plead
for it and against ruthless devastation. All man-
kind love woodland scenery. Hills and dales are
embellished by it. Viewed from a distance, the
soft, undulating outline of woods charms the
sight; and when resting in their cool shade we
feel soothed and comforted, and our souls are
tuned to holiness as our eye dwells upon the
graceful and majestic tracery overhead.

Although in the United Kingdom forest pre-
servation can scarcely be deemed a vital question,
as rainfall and irrigation are amply provided by
other means, yet for many and various reasons the
appeal should be heeded there also: ‘ Woodman,
spare that tree.’

THE MOORS.

By WILLIAM BUCHAN.

gee

HE afternoon sun had dipped behind
the broad shoulder of the Ruchill,
aud the strath below was plunged
in shadow. It had been one of
the halcyon days which sometimes
fall on the borderland of autumn

and winter, when the sun shines with swamer

brilliance from a cloudless sky, when the now
sombre landscape takes a younger and a brighter
aspect, and to the worn-out herbage there comes

a touch of fresh life. But now, as the cold line

of shadow mounted the hillside and the sun’s

heat died from the earth, the harsher feeling of

the late season asserted itself, and there was a

shiver in the air betokening a night of frost.

The stream in the valley had lost its sparkle ;

cold and colourless its waters looked as_ they

flowed full-lipped between their banks of dry gray
bent ; and even the hills were scarce relieved from
monotonous grayness by the bright patches of
withered bracken, the soft green turf of the burn-
side, and the clumps of dark pine which dotted
their slopes.

The shepherd of Kingsmuir arose lazily from
the mossy bank where he had been reclining.
He was returning from one of his rare visits to
the nearest market-town; and, as the way was
long and the heat had been oppressive, he had
sat him down by the stream-side to rest. But now
sundown and the chill of evening reminded him
that he must be getting on his way ; so, wrapping
his plaid more tightly round his broad shoulders,
he prepared to resume his journey. Before him in
a straggling line the flock of sheep he had that

cau
ma
obs
cep
tou:
lov
he

mes
and
kee
But
Ih

appl
and
Sut
the
shep
in tl
all «
notic

his '
none
in tl
He |
sinvk
yreat
a shi
neck
a ni
whic
perse
land
most
Th
aston
and
was |
so in
slipp
again

now
him
ping
Jers,
nn in
that

COMEDY ON THE MOORS. 75

day bought at the market solemnly cropped the
roadside turf, flanked by two shaggy collies, who
watched in zealous rivalry to prevent their stray-
ing; and the shepherd, as he surveyed their broad
well-fleeced backs, was filled with much content.

‘Meg—Dou—away by wide, he cried in the
mysterious language of herding. But as, at the
order, the obedient dogs scampered off in a hairy
whirlwind to recall stragglers and trim the flock
for the march, something in the stream at his feet
caught the shepherd’s eye and made him bend
cautiously lower. For the shepherd, though in
many ways an exemplary subject and a strict
observer of the laws of the realm, made one ex-
ception. The salmon-laws, he held, were iniqui-
tous; and there being few things in the world he
loved better than salmon, he saw no reason why
he should not capture them when and by what
means he chose. The close season lad commenced ;
and on the lower streams the bailiffs would be
keeping strict watch for the unwary poacher.
But here it was different. One such gentleman,
I have heard, did, in a fit of overzealousness for
duty, penetrate these fastuesses ; but from his fate
his successors took warning, and of late years these
moorland streams had been a little overlooked,

So it was with small fear of interruption from

that quarter that the shepherd took out his hooks
for the capture of a goodly salmon which lay
invitingly in a convenient part of the stream.
Ile was an old experienced hand, and advanced
confidently expecting an easy capture. Warily he
approached the stream and arranged his tackle ;
and very skilfully he worked his hooks upward,
3ut the salmon was a cunning fish, and resisted
the efforts to land him. With each failure the
shepherd grew the more determined, till at last,
in the heat of the chase, he became oblivious to
all else. So engrossed was he that he did not
notice a short, thick-set man approach and stand
watching him with a grim smile.

The new-comer seemed strangely out of place in
his surroundings. In his appearance there were
none of those marks which cling to the dweller
in the hills and distinguish him from other men.
He had the air of one who had strayed from the
smoke of a mining country into the midst of this
yreat hill-land; at any rate he was certainly not
a shepherd. He was short and squat, with a bull-
neck and an unlovely countenance unimproved by
a most vicious cast in his eyesight; and the leer
which disfigured his face when the shepherd, his
perseverance at last rewarded, drew his prize to
land and at length turned round, gave him a
most sinister aspect,

The shepherd eyed the stranger with some
astonishment. He had not heard him approach,
and his silent behaviour was ominous. But it

was ridiculous to have any fears on the score of
so insignificant a person; so, nothing daunted, he
slipped the salmon into his plaid and girt himself
again for the road, As the other showed no sign

of addressing him, he felt bound in civility to
venture a remark,

‘Extraordinar’ fine wather for the back-end,
he said affably.

‘There’s naething wrang wi’ the
answered the stranger rudely.
for seeing poachers.’

The shepherd whistled softly. Could this man
!

‘Is it possible,’ he said slowly and deliberately
—‘can you be what they ca’ a bailiff?’

‘As ye’ll sune find out.’

‘Ay, man! Div ye ken, I never saw a bailiff
afore, and I’ve ay wondered what they were like.
But I thocht they would pit on bigger men for
the job. Dod! I took ye for that new tailor-
body that’s come to the muirs.’

The bailiff was sensitive, and at the suggestion
his eyes flashed. ‘Tailor!’ he began, with a snort
of indignation, but checked himself. ‘In the
meantime, he continued, with forced politeness,
‘I'll trouble ye for your name.’

‘And what if I dinna tell ye?’ asked the
shepherd sweetly.

*1t’ll be the waur for yoursel’ !
to follow ye.’

‘Aweel, it’s a gey lonesome bit o’ the road
onyway, and I’ll be nane the waur o’ your com-
pany. We can hae a crack on the way. Ye see,
he continued as they set off together, ‘I canna
afford to gang to the jail just the noo—the
wather’s ower guid ; and I’ve nae siller to waste
on fines.’

‘If ye canna pay the fine, to the jail ye maun
gang.’

‘We'll see if we canna find some ither way,’
said the shepherd cheerily. ‘But we’ll no crack
about that the noo. Tak’ a fill,’ and he held out
a stump of rank black tobacco.

The bailiff was surly and taciturn. He was
deeply wrathful at being compelled to follow, and
he walked onward in stolid silence. The shep-
herd, on the other hand, was in a particularly
pleasant humour, and, considering his grave
delinquency, lis conversation was light-hearted
to an unseemly degree.

‘Guid yowes !’ he said, with a wave of his hand
towards the flock. ‘The best sheep to be got in
the market! And ye would scarcely believe it,
but I bocht them frae the maist blackyird dealer
in the country. It’s a queer thing. It doesna
often happen; but I’ve managed it this time ;’
and he poked at a goodly sheep with a grunt of
satisfaction. ‘And I see ye’re eyeing the dowgs,’
he continued airily. ‘Fine animals! Man, are
they no’ just beauties, baith o’ them? It would
tak’ a lot to beat the black yin; and for Meg—
there’s no’ her marrow in the countryside amang
sheep ; she’s a gleg yin, and mony a story I could
tell about her. Ye’ll ken that wild bit, awa’
at the head o’ the watter, ca’ed the Craig Slap?
Weel, it was ae dark winter's nicht’—— And

wather,
*It’s fine and clear

be

Ill just hae

76

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

he rambled into some story, not over creditable
to himself.

So he rattled on, from subject to subject, story
to story, entirely reckless of the fact that the
bailiff paid him not the least attention. That
minister of the law, albeit at heart he felt some-
what apprehensive, preserved outwardly a dignified
and scornful silence.

The day was approaching the darkening, and
the niglt-frost was tingling in the faces of the
two men when at last the shepherd halted.
They had come to a place where the stream ran
in pools and shallows, and as far as the turn in
the valley there was no one in sight.

‘Meg,’ cried the shepherd, ‘watch thae sheep ;’
and he turned towards the stream.

‘Whaur are ye gaun?’ asked the bailiff sus-
piciously.

‘To catch saumon. Are ye comin’?’ said the
shepherd cheerfully. He peered cautiously over
the edge of the bank, and drew back in silence.
‘Hush! Here’s a grand yin. Ha’e ye gotten your
heuks, bailiff? No? Then I’ll hae to lend ye
mine.’

‘What for?’

‘To catch that saumon,’

‘Whiae ?’

‘You.’

The bailiff laughed scornfully.

‘Weel? said the shepherd, ‘I’ll no’ pit ye in
there. Even a sma’ thing frichts a saumon. But
that’s a fine deep pool yonder; and I’m thinkin’
it’s gey cauld noo that the sun’s doon. Will
ye catch that saumon 2?’

‘No.’

‘Then it canna be helpit;’ and, tucking the
small man under his arm, the shepherd carried
him kicking and wriggling to the edge of the
pool In another moment the unhappy bailiff
was standing waist-deep in water,

‘Noo, he continued, laying his watch on the
grass, ‘I’ll gi’e ye three minutes to mak’ up your
mind; and if by that time ye’re aye obstinate,
head ower heels ye go into the deep bit.’

For a minute there was silence between the two
men, broken only by the swish of the stream
and the lapping of the water against the bailiffs
body ; then the shepherd broke out again:

‘No,’ he said, with the air of one who has
been pondering a difficult question, ‘I canna for
the life o’ me mak’ out what in the world garred
ye venture sae far frae hame. Ance afore—it
was lang syne—a bailiff cam’ here, and what he
got was a warnin’ to them that came after him.
He was a big man; but what garred you, a man
o’ your size, daur I canna think. Ye wad dae
weel eneuch, I’ve nae doot, amang the shilpit
bodies that bide where you cam’ frae. But to
come here—it’s a perfect insult to the muirs,
Just figure you and muckle Jock Shiel’—and at
the imaginary picture the shepherd was convulsed
with silent laughter.

Meanwhile—for he was a conscientious man—a
struggle was in progress in the bailiff’s heart.
For the first minute his resolution stood firm by
his duty. But gradually the ice-cold of the water
seeped through his clothes, through his skin, into
his very bones. His legs ached and shivers went
through his whole body. The cold crept steadily
upwards, seeming to expel all the blood from his
legs; as it advanced his resolution began pro-
portionately to wane, and he to think he had

‘better make the best of a bad business. The

struggle with his conscience was short. He looked
at the dark, deep hole where the stream plashed
into the pool, and shuddered. The struggle was
over. He had stood by his duty long enough.
Surely it would be folly to go further. So when
the time had expired, and the shepherd asked his
decision, ‘I suppose I’ll ha’e to dae it,’ he said ;
‘but I’ll pay ye out yet.’

‘Never fash yoursel’ about that,’ said the shep-
herd. ‘Come noo and we’ll ha’e a crack wi’ yon
saumon.’

With an ill grace the bailiff took the hooks and
addressed himself to his unpleasant task. At first
he made little attempt to catch the fish. He had
a vague hope that in time relief would come from
some quarter, and he put off the evil moment.
Meanwhile the shepherd taunted him from behind.

‘Eh, man! ye ha’e little skill. The saumon’s
playing wi’ ye. Div ye no see he’s fair lauchiw
at ye? And, by the way, bailiff—about that visit
of ours to the court—will it be sune, div ye
think, or will we -pit it aff indefinitely? Per-
sonally I would recommend the last way—but
ony way ye like.’

But taunts were of no avail. The bailiff did
not in the least feel his honour offended, and his
efforts were still languid. At last the shepherd
grew impatient.

‘See here,’ he said, ‘it’s nae use delayin’. Ye’ve
got to catch that saumon, and if ye dinna be smart
I'll pit ye in the water again. By the way,’ he

added casually, ‘here’s Jock Shiel himsel’ comin’.-

If I were you I’d hurry up and catch that
fush afore onybody saw me.’

The bailiff glanced round, and there, sure
enough, the six foot of stalwart shepherd came in
leisurely fashion downethe road. His last hope
fled. There was nothing to be expected from the
new-comer, whom he knew as a notorious poacher.
Besides, it was better that&there should be no
witness to his deed. So he doggedly recalled his
ancient skill, and set himself to catch the salmon
with all speed. With much art he gradually
drove the fish upwards on to the shallows.

‘Fine, man!’ said the shepherd approvingly.
‘I kenned ye were juist shammin’. It’s no’ ill
to see ye’ve been at the business afore. Set a
thief to catch a thief, and mak’ a poacher into a
bailiff. Ye ha’e skill after a. Great, man !—
great ! Just be cautious, noo—cautious—cauny—
and there ye ha’e him.’

—am250a8

COMEDY ON THE MOORS. 77

And just as Jock came up the glittering back
was landed at his feet.

‘Man, Jock,’ said the shepherd, ‘ye’re ower
late. We’ve been ha’ein’ grand sport, me and the
bailiff. He could gi’e points in saumon-catchin’
even to you.’

The bailiff turned to Jock. ‘I tak’ you to
witness that I ha’e been forced to this.’

‘I ken nocht about that, said Jock, smiling.
‘A’ I ken is that I saw a bailiff landin’ a
saumon.’

‘Ay,’ quoted the shepherd irreverently ; ‘he
diggit a pit for ithers and fell intil’t himsel’.’

The bailiff glared savagely at the two men with
impotent hatred in his face. Rage and a helpless
longing for vengeance filled his heart and choked
his utterance. Then he blurted out an oath, and
flung himself off.

‘Stop a minute, my bonny man,’ said the shep-

herd ; ‘ye’ll surely never lea’e this fine saumon
ahint ye. Weel, a wilfw’ man maun gang his ain
gait. But tak’ my advice and tell them that

employs ye to pit on bigger men for bailiffs, or

the saumon winna -ha’e muckle chance up the
muirs,’

The bailiff deigned not to reply. He set his
shoulders square, drew up his small body to its
utmost, and strode over the ridge with high
dudgeon writ large on his squat little figure. The
other two watched him as he disappeared, mirth
and a kind of pity struggling for mastery in their
faces. But the ludicrous picture of the forlorn
little instrument of the law was too much for their
kinder feelings. A storm of laughter caught and
shook the shepherd. Presently Jock joined ; and
these two gigantic men roared in their mirth,
their great sides heaving with paroxysms of
laughter and the tears rolling down their cheeks.

It was not till long after the bailiff had vanished
over the ridge of moorland that the shepherd,
weak with laughter, dried his eyes and turned to
Jock. ‘Hunger,’ he said oractllarly, ‘tames a
craw, and cauld watter a bailiff’ And with these
sage words the shepherd whistled on his dogs,
and, collecting his errant sheep, went chuckling up
the moorland road.

THE MONTH:

LYDDITE SHELLS.

ay] LTHOUGH all good people have a
horror of war and the terrible tale
of misery which it drags in its
train, there is a certain amount
of fascination about it because
of its picturesque and intensely
dramatic accompaniments. One cannot, for in-
stance, read without absorbing interest of the
work of our Naval Brigade and their awfully
destructive lyddite shes, which, by the way, take
their name from Lydd, on the Kentish coast,
where the explosive is made and tested. Although
the 4°7-inch gun used by the Naval Brigade has
a projectile weighing forty-five pounds, this in-
cludes the five and a half pounds charge of cordite
which expels it; the weight of the lyddite in its
head, which breaks the shell into death-dealing
fragments, being only ten pounds. The entire
projectile is in form like a sportsman’s cartridge,
containing its own propelling charge, with the
addition of the bursting charge of lyddite ; deduct-
ing these, the weight of metal is only twenty-
nine and a half pounds. In the part of this
Journal for January 1899 the composition and
manufacture of lyddite were explained.

WAR TELEGRAMS,

The press of telegrams from the seat of war is
straining the telegraphic system to its utmost
limit, There are two terminal stations involved,
one at Capetown and the other at Durban ; and
Government messages, by international agreement,

SCIENCE

AND ARTS.

have priority always. Recently a message from
Sir George White at Ladysmith was transmitted
from Durban to London in the short space of
half-an-hour; and if we follow the course of such
a telegram, and see how it has to halt at certain
intermediate points—Zanzibar, Aden, Suez, Alex-
andria, Gibraltar, each of these stoppages meaning
a delay of several minutes—we cannot but wonder
at the extraordinary nature of the feat. A single
cable will transmit from one hundred and filty
to two hundred words per minute, every word
being spelt right out, and in the present instance
no code words were allowable. We must also re-
member that every message from the seat of war is
carefully examined or censored before being sent
on. The telegraph company’s repairing ship is at
Delagoa Bay, in order to be at hand to remedy
any breakdown. Before these words appear in
print it is highly probable that the Marconi
wireless system will in a large measure have
supplanted those land lines in Natal which can
so easily be cut when the enemy can get near
them.

THE FASTEST CRAFT AFLOAT.

It will be remembered that during the great
naval display which formed such a notable feature
of the Jubilee year, a certain vessel called the
Turbinia—from the fact that the engines which
turn her propellers are of turbine form—made a
sensational run, for the edification of the visitors,
at a speed approaching that of an express rail-
way train. The principle has been adopted in a
torpedo-boat destroyer which. has recently been con-

78

CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

structed for our navy by Messrs Awnstrony & Co.
at Elswick; and a Newcastle correspondent of
the Shipping Gazette gives a remarkable account
of the behaviour of the vessel during her trial
trip. Scarcely bigger than one of the ordinary
destroyers, she tears through the water, leaving in
her wake ‘a wall of white-boiling water.’ At
full speed she gave the impression of flying over
the waves without effort. ‘I saw her, says the
correspondent, ‘run out of sight to the north in
twenty minutes, and reappear again steaming south
in ten minutes, and I watched her turn com-
pletely round so quickly that the eye was deceived
in the movement,’

AN AERIAL STEAMSHIP,

Major B. Baden-Powell writes to the Times
describing a yisit he recently paid in Germany to
the ‘dockyard’ where an aerial steamship of vast
size is .in actual course of construction. We have
all read so much about such contrivances in the
pages of Jules Verne and his hundreds of pla-
giarists that we are not too ready to believe in the
realisation of such a dream. But here we have
the evidence of an eyewitness that the ship is
actually on the stocks, and is to cost when finished
about seventy thousand pounds. It is made of
aluminium, and has the appearance of an _ enor-
mous bird-cage. Upon this framework an outer
skin is to be stretched, and in the enclosed space
a number of balloons are to furnish the rising-
power. The total lifting capacity will be ten
tons, and in a_ gallery beneath will be the
engines to propel the monster through the air
at an estimated speed of twenty-two miles per
hour. If there were no such thing as a wind
which bloweth where it listet—and very often
at a speed far greater than ‘that stated—the
aerial steamship might have more prospect of
success than it seems to us to promise.

LAGER BEER.

Among the products ‘made in Germany’ which
seem to have taken a firm root in Britain is lager
beer, which, on account of its refreshing qualities
and slight proportion of alcohol, has become a
favourite beverage with many. Messrs Allsopp of
Burton-on-Trent, one of our largest firms of brewers,
have determined that the demand for such a light
beer shall be met, and they have installed
machinery for its production by a new process.
Hitherto the method of making lager has consumed
much time, and was therefore costly. The process
involved two fermentations in separate vessels, of
which the first occupied a fortnight and the
second several months. By the Pfaudler vacunm
fermentation process, which has been adopted at
Burton, the total time of manufacture is redticed
to about three weeks, while at the same time the
product is a purer and brighter beer. The
principal feature of the new process is the continu-
ous removal of the carbon dioxide given off by

the yeast through the action of a vacuum pump,
while air filtered through cotton wool is admitted
through the wort as required. Thus the yeast can
perform its work more quickly, and ‘wild yeasts,
and other organisms which might prove mischiev-
ous, are altogether excluded. In this manufacture
cleanliness is secured from first to last, even the
racking into casks being done under pressure and
seal, The apparatus erected at Burton—the first
of the kind in this country—will have a yearly
output of about sixty thousand barrels.

STREET TRACTION.

Local authorities all over the country are
puzzled to know what source of power to employ
for traction on street tram-lines. The cable
system answers well when there are no steep
hills to climb; but it seems to have been almost
supplanted in America by electricity. According
to the Electrical Engineer, three hundred and fifty
million pounds have in the United States been
invested in these undertakings, nearly as large an
amount as that invested in steam railroads, Then,
again, there is a revival of compressed air for
street work, and ten cars driven by this agency are
now running in New York. We may note that
some eight years ago, in North London, tram-cars
were being run by compressed air; but for some
occult reason they were soon replaced by horse-
drawn vehicles. In the Metropolis at the present
moment omnibuses driven by benzoline engines
are in regular operation, and seem to meet with
great support from the public. Possibly it will
take some years to determine which of all these
systems is the best.

SAVING LIFE AT SEA.

A prize of no less than four thousand pounds
is offered by the heirs of the late Mr Pollok of Wash-
ington to the inventor of the best apparatus for
the saving of life at sea, and is to be awarded
during the Paris Exhibition of 1900. The money
is deposited with the Security and Trust Company
of Washington, and will be paid over to the
successful competitor when a decision shall have
been arrived at by the appointed jury. The total
amount of the prize may be awarded to one
person; or, should several inventions appear to
be of equal merit, it can be split up between
them at the discretion of the jury. Should it be
decided to retain the prize because no invention
of sufficient merit is sent in, the jury will have
the power to indemnify competing inventors in
such amounts as may be deemed advisable.

ANIMATED PHOTOGRAPHS AS WITNESSES.

During the recent international yacht-race, in
which the Columbia proved the faster vessel, an
interesting new departure was made in recording
the details of the race. A biograph camera was
placed in position on board the committee-bouat,
and whenever the competing yachts came within

limi
frag
nac
pow
is |
full
The
that
that
nois

~~ a

a |

we

= == “Se

rw wer VV Ww YF Vw ae ~

—- SS oO

—

THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS. 79

dangerous proximity of one another the machine
was set in motion so as to obtain a cinemato-
graphic record of the exact positions of the two
yachts, in case of a foul or other untoward
occurrence. These pictures were strictly regarded
as official documents, and would have been put
in evidence had any dispute arisen.

“ARTIFICIAL PAVING-STONES.

A new method of making a durable artificial
stone for paving purposes has been successfully
introduced in Germany, and is likely to find
employment in many countries. The basis of the
pavement is, like that of many other systems,
coal-tar, This is mixed with sulphur and heated,
and to the plastic mass is added a preparation of
lime. When cold, the compound is broken into
fragments and mixed with glass or blast-fur-
nace glass slag. Subjected to heavy pressure, the
powder is moulded to any form required; and it
is found that its resistance to wear and tear is
fully half as great as that of Swedish granite.
The other advantages claimed for the paving is
that its roughened surface gives a good foothold,
that it resists changes of temperature, is not
noisy, and is easily kept clean.

NOW AND THEN.

Sixty years’ progress in steam navigation has
brought many and great changes in the ‘ocean
ferry’ which forms a connecting-link between
ourselves and our American cousins; and in
Casster’s Magazine for November the improvements
are summed up in a very concise manner. Speed,
we are told, has increased from eight and a half
to twenty-two and a half knots, with the result
that a journey to-day takes about thirty-eight per
cent. of the time it occupied in 1840. Vessels are
now three times the length, double the breadth,
and have increased tenfold in displacement since
the year quoted; while the engine-power is forty
times as great. Coal consumption, measured per

horse-power per hour, is only about one-third of |

what it was in 1840. With the old type of
engine and boiler each ton of weight produced
only about two horse-power; now, with modern
twin-screw engines and high pressure, each ton
of machinery produces from six to seven horse-
power. Had the modern engine been propor-
tionately as heavy as those of sixty years ago, the
machinery, boilers, and coal of such a vessel as
the Campania would have exceeded the entire
weight of the ship as she floats to-day. These
are some of the apt illustrations from an article
by Sir William H. White, Director of Naval Con-
struction to the British Admiralty.

ARTIFICIAL SPONGE.

Many natural products are, in these days of
advanced chemistry, so successfully imitated in the
laboratory that the manufacture of a sponge which
seems to possess all the valuable qualities asso-

ciated with the real article will not perhaps excite
the surprise which it surely would have done a
few years back. The process is patented by Dr
Gustav Pum of Gratz, and consists principally in
the action of zinc chloride on pure cellulose,
This action results in a pasty viscous mass, which
is mixed with coarsely-grained rock-salt. Placed
in a press-mould armed with pins, the mass is
pierced through and through until it appears
traversed by a multitude of tiny canals, like the
pores of a natural sponge. The excess of salts is
subsequently removed by prolonged washing in
a weak alcoholic solution, The artificial sponge
swells up with water, but turns horny and hard
on drying, just like its prototype ; it is eminently
adapted for filtering water for sanitary or indus-
trial uses, and can be employed for all the pur-
poses which are usually assigned to the animal
product of the submarine rocks;

TRANSVAAL DIAMONDS.

It is not generally known that the diamond-
producing region of South Africa is not confined
to Kimberley. The United States Consul at
Pretoria recently reported that the output of dia-
monds in the Pretoria district during the year
1898 was valued at nearly nine thousand pounds,
the largest stone found having a weight of 38
carats. Although the industry has not developed
with any astonishing rapidity, it must be remem-
bered that the first stone was discovered at
Reitfontein only in August 1897. The value per
carat of the Pretoria stones is sixteen shillings,
against twenty-six shillings of those found at
Kimberley, and thirty-four shillings per carat for
the diamonds from Jagersfontein in the Orange
Free State. The total quantity of diamonds found
in the Transvaal in 1898 was 22,843 carats, valued
at £43,730. The stones found at the alluvial
diggings are of finer quality than those found, as
at Kimberley, in volcanic ‘pipes.’ A pure-white
stone is sometimes of twelve times the value of
a straw-coloured stone of identical weight, Un-
fortunately the war has caused a diamond crisis,
and hundreds of diamond-cutters in Antwerp and,
Amsterdam have been thrown idle.

CURIOUS EFFECTS OF LIGHTNING.

Baron Kaulbars writes an interesting letter to
Knowledge respecting the effect of lightning upon
trees and buildings. He says that if the whole
surface of a tree is damp when the lightning strikes
it little harm is done, but if it is dry the spark
will take the course of least resistance along the
damp wood beneath the bark, and the latter is
blown off by the steam suddenly generated as a
result of great heat. Water steam at very high
pressure is the force that generally causes the
actual disruption in a tree struck by lightning.
The Baron quotes a curious case in which a
monumental column at Gatchina, in Russia, was
destroyed from much the same cause. It was

\

80 ‘* CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL.

fifteen metres high, and its stones were held to-
gether by interior iron angles. After a period of
very rainy weather much water had collected
between the stones, and when lightning struck it
the entire column was blown to fragments. ‘In
this extraordinary case there is no doubt that
the lightning-spark, retained by the intervals
between the iron angles, instantly produced a
great quantity of steam of very high pressure in
the interior of the damp column, and the latter
was actually blown up by its explosion.’

COMPLETION OF THE TRANS-SIBERIAN AND
CHINESE EASTERN RAILWAY,

The announcement is made that the great Trans-
Siberian Railway, with the important extension
known as the Chinese Eastern Railway, will be
completed in 1900, and that trains will then
be running from St Petersburg to Vladivostok
and Port Arthur on the Pacific. W. A. H. Ford,
who describes the railway in M‘Clure’s Magazine,
says that one of the possibilities of the Paris
Exposition of 1900 will be a guard who will
call out at the railway station, ‘This way for
trains from Paris to Port Arthur,’ a distance of
nearly ten thousand miles. The fares from St
Petersburg to the Pacific have been quoted as
twenty pounds first class, and less for third class.
Already the number of emigrants passing east-
wards through Cheliabinsk is two hundred thousand
a year. Since Mr Geddie published his article,
‘The Great Siberian Railway,’ in this Journal for
1897, remarkable progress has been made, and
there have been some adjustments of route at
the eastern end. Russia has managed to engineer
a shorter way through Manchuria to Port Arthur,
which has this advantage over the original ter-
minus of Vladivostok (the ‘Glad Far East’), that it
is free of ice all the year round. Since this took
place the importance of Vladivostok has been
somewhat lessened. The Chinese eastern section
begins at Kidalova in Siberia, runs south-
east for six hundred miles to Harbin, a place
which has sprung up with great rapidity, and
which, it is prophesied, will be the Chicago of
Noith Asia. Here, five hundred miles from
Vladivostok, it crosses the Sungari River, and
goes south six hundred and fifty miles to Port
Arthur: A branch from Harbin connects with
Vladivostok ; south of Harbin there will also be
branches to Gerin and Newchwang, and thence
to Pekin. Who could have dreayft that the end
of the century would witness the capital of China
connected by rail with Europe?

The Chinese eastern section, which is being
built with great rapidity, must always have a
Chinese president, with separate offices and manage-
ment. The order for tools and plant for making
this last section was cleverly secured for America
by Mr Sergey Friede, of the Engineers’ Club of
New York, who arrived in Vladivostok in 1897,
and after great difficulty hunted up the Russian

—e

engineer-in-chief, who was on survey in Manchuria,
According to Mr Ford, the American pickaxes,
hammers, and shovels are of better quality than”
those of European make, with the result that
shiploads of American railway plant, with loco.
motives, &c., arrived during 1898. The contract”
for the bridges was also placed in America, With |
the completion of the railway it is believed direct
steamship communication will be started between
San Francisco, Vladivostok, and Port Arthur,
Portland, Oregon, is only some six thousand miles”
by sea from Port Arthur. This, the longest railway ©
in the world, is to cost at least thirty million
pounds, What share, we may ask, is Great Britain 7
to have in these new fields for commercial enter-
prise? America has been first in the field: will)
she continue to lead ? q

LIGHTHOUSE ON THE FLANNAN ISLANDS.

Those who perused Mr Gibson’s account of a
visit to the Seven Hunters, or Flannan Islands,
in our November number, will be glad to hear
that a light was exhibited on 7th December from
the lighthouse which has been erected by the
Commissioners of Northern Lights on Eilean }
Mor, one of the Flannan Islands, situated north —
and west eighteen and one-third miles from Gallon |
Head, west coast of island of Lewis. The light |
has a group of flashing white lights, showing two
flashes in quick succession every half-minute, and |
its power will be equal to one hundred and forty
thousand standard candles; it will be visible all |
round, and elevated three hundred and thirty feet
above high-water spring-tides ; and it will be seen
about twenty-four nautical miles in#elear weather.
We may hope that the new*light will safeguard |
ships in this dangerous viciffity.

A CATHEDRAL

THE Minster’s mystic walls ‘Aprear

In Time’s rich hues against*the sky ;
Fair sentinels that, year by year,

Have watched slow centuries go by.

Within such perfect calm doth reign
As by no word may be exprest ;

For though without men war with pain,
Here weary souls awhile may rest ;

And, resting, gather strength anew
’Mid dim memorials of the past ;
The Faith our fathers held holds true,
O’er diverse ways Love’s light to cast.

C. M. Pare.

*.* TO CONTRIBUTORS.

lst. All communications should be addressed ‘To the
Editor, 339 High Street, Edinburgh.’

2d. For its return in case of ineligibility, postage-stamps
should accompany every manuscript.

3d. To secure their safe return if ineligible, ALL MaNnu-
SCRIPTS, whether accompanied by a letter of advice or
otherwise, should have the writer’s Name and Address
written upon them IN FULL.

4th. Poetical contributions should invariably be accom-

panied by a stamped and directed envelope.

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHamBens, Limited, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON ; and EDINBURGH.