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Chambers Journa 


|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. } 




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. 



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. 




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 


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 

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- 

‘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 

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

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

Mistress gave 

Can I do anything?’ she 



‘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 

‘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 

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

‘None whatever. They were here when I went 

‘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 

‘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?’ 




‘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 

‘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- 


‘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 

‘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 

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.) 


‘They were 




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 


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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 


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 











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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. 


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 


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.’ 




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 



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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 

‘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 

*It’s fine and clear 


Ill just hae 



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- 

‘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 

‘What for?’ 

‘To catch that saumon,’ 

‘Whiae ?’ 


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?’ 


‘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 

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.’ 



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 

‘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 

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. 



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. 


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, 



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 


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- 



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,’ 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 

is | 

~~ a 

a | 


= == “Se 

rw wer VV Ww YF Vw ae ~ 

—- SS oO 



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. 


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. 


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. 


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; 


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. 


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 



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.’ 


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 


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 


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. 


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. 


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