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By A. FRASER ROBERTSON, Author of A Commonplace Woman, &c. 

fIITTLE Mrs Lamington was giving a 

fi dinner-party — quite a small, in- 

formal affair—I, as the governess, 

not being much concerned there- 

with, except in the matter of table 

decoration. On the morning of the 

day, however, Mrs Lamington came hurriedly into 
the schoolroom. 

‘I want you to come downstairs to-night, Miss 

Ashley, please, she said. ‘Cyril has gone and 

asked an extra man.’ ' 

Nothing seemed to go right with that dinner- 

party from. the outset. Half-an-hour before 
dinner she came to me again—this time flushed 
and agitated, an open note in her hand. 

‘Could anything be more provoking? Dr 
Grenfell sends an apology at the last moment— 
“suddenly indisposed ;” and, Mrs Grenfell not 
even the sense to decline. It spoils the numbers, 
of course—disorganises the whole’ table. I shall 
have to take Mr Hooper; and now, whom will 
Marion Crescent have ?’ 

‘If I stay out,’ I suggested, ‘that will equalise 
numbers, and Miss Crescent can have my man.’ 

But Mrs Lamington impatiently negatived my 

‘Nothing of the sort, she said. ‘That would 
make it too much of a family party’—Lady 
Crescent was a second or third cousin of Mrs 
Lamington’s, and Mr Hooper was connected with 
her, too, in a similarly distant manner—‘and that 
almost always falls flat or ends in friction. But if 
you don’t mind having no partner—and, as you 
say, Marion can have Mr Crosley.’ 

She bustled out of the room, leaving me to ad- 
just a spray of scarlet geranium in the bosom of 
my black lace gown. I was not to be allowed to 
escape the ordeal, although I would gladly have 
relinquished a quarter’s salary to avoid the close 
contact this impromptu dinner-party involved with 
Jack’s aunt, the terrible Lady Crescent, and her 
daughter Marion, both of whom divined my en- 

No. 127.—Vou. 

(All Rights Reserved. ] 

gagement to Jack, and regarded me as some sneak- 
ing reptile who had wormed herself into his unsus- 
pecting affections on the strength of a pretty face. 

In the back seat befitting the governess of the 
house, I awaited the guests’ arrival. Mrs Laming- 
ton had partly got over her vexation, and Mr 
Lamington would have worn the same unconcerned 
and genial air had the Prince of Wales or the 
Prime Minister suddenly elected to dine with him. 

Lady Crescent, with her hawk-like features and 
aggressively insolent bearing, emphasised by a 
tortoise-shell pince-nez, sailed in first, followed by 
her daughter, narrow-eyed and sallow—the bride 
his aunt had selected for my Jack. Mrs Grenfell 
succeeded, comfortable and good-tempered in the 
prospect of a good dinner. She in her turn was 
followed by three nondescript men—a dried-up 
scientist, a man who looked like a professional 
diner-out, and the Mr Crosley who had been the 
late addition to the party. 

We paired in to dinner, I partnerless, and re- 
garded with that uncertain air with which people 
look upon the governess of the house, not sure 
whether to treat her as a servant or as a lady, 
and in the end hitting something of a mean 
between the two extremes. I found on my right 
the eminent scientist, on my left a vacant space, 
and beyond Lady Crescent’s formidable propor- 
tions. At a safe distance, Marion’s pale eyes 
scrutinised me across an elaborate arrangement 
of chrysanthemums and feathery grasses. and 
silver candelabra. I began to breathe freely. The 
scientist made an isolated remark to me during 
soup, in a voice whose depth suggested dungeons 
of abstruse learning. Then an officious servant, 
moved by some fiendish impulse, cleared away 
the things belonging to my partner’s unoccupied 
place ; and, with an ‘Ah! that is better, Lady 
Crescent moved her chair a little way nearer mine, 

‘I never, never crowd my table,’ Mrs Lamington, 
whose quick ear had caught the remark, said to 
me later. ‘I consider it an insult to my guests, 
May 5, 1900. 


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She had heaps of room. She only wanted to 
torment you—all on account of Jack, of course. 
I could have cried with vexation when I saw 
how I had managed things.’ 

I inwardly trembled as I noted the movement. 
Her ladyship’s fat hand crumbled bread at my 
very elbow. Her podgy white fingers were en- 
crusted with diamonds, and her arm was clasped 
by a broad opal-and-diamond bracelet. Jewelless, 
and in my severe black gown, I seemed to shrivel 
into nothing beside her sparkling magnificence. 

During an interval in the courses she levelled 
her pince-nez at the table. 

‘Your handiwork?’ she asked abruptly. 

‘Do you mean the table?’ I asked. ‘Yes, I 
did it. 

‘Humph !’ she remarked ; ‘some girls make it 
a profession nowadays, I believe, during the 
season, they make quite a respectable income.’ 

‘So I have heard,’ I said. 

‘Opportunities for girls obliged to earn a living 
are greatly increased in these days, she went on, 
helping herself largely to a quenelle entrée as she 
spoke. ‘It relieves the congested state of the 
governess market.’ 

I said nothing. I was quite alive to the 
improved condition of the market as regarded 
woman’s work ; but her ladyship’s remarks struck 
me as in doubtful taste. 

‘You have never thought of striking out some 
more enterprising line?’ she asked, determined, 
I thought, to make me speak. 

‘Never,’ I said coolly. ‘I am very happy.’ 

‘Ah!’ she said, ‘you are fortunate in your 
berth, and don’t like the idea of change. Of 
course change is a bad thing. By the way, isn’t 
there a society that gives rewards and medals and 
such things for long periods of service—just as 
domestic servants have—pensions for old age, and 
so on? Very good things, too. They act as a 
check upon those horrid registers and that rest- 
lessness and love of change that are the crying 
evils of the day. Don’t you think so?’ 

‘I really don’t know,’ I said. ‘I have not 
studied the subject. I do not think, however,’ I 
added, deliberately dealing a stab to my opponent 
with great relish, ‘many girls look forward to 
being governesses to the end of their lives.’ She 
turned her bead-like eyes quickly on me, She 
quite understood my insinuation. Lady Crescent’s 
réle was a persistent ignoring of my engagement 
to her nephew, as if her refusal to admit it would 
alter the fact. 

Suddenly she swept her arm along the table to 
reach some salted almonds in a bonbonniére in my 
vicinity. In drawing it back she brushed my 
elbow, and her bracelet caught momentarily in 
the lace of my sleeve. 

She disengaged it with an impatient movement. 

‘The clasp is not too secure,’ she remarked, 
examining it without apologising, ‘So like a 
man, she went on, speaking half to herself, 

although the words were intended for me; ‘and, 
most of all, like my nephew. He gives nothing 
trifling. His presents are all massive and’ hand- 
some.” She regarded her ornament with great 
satisfaction. ‘He and Marion chose it together, 
she added in a pensive aside, 

My heart beat at the mention of Jack’s name, 
but I made no remark. So he had been the 
donor of the handsome bracelet! It was perhaps, 
after all, a little hard on Lady Crescent that a 
penniless governess, however pretty, should have 
stepped in and wrested the prize that would so 
well have suited her daughter. 

She turned to Mr Lamington, and my quick 
ear caught the words: 

‘He hopes this native disturbance will soon be 
over, and then we. expect him home. Marion 
heard from him the other day. The wretched 
climate of the place makes us anxious.’ 

I smiled to myself. I had later news of him 
than Marion, 

Then Mrs Lamington made a move, and the 
ladies rustled out of the dining-room; Lady 
Crescent, with a white marabout feather waving 
aloft, like a ship in full sail. 

When we reached the drawing-room Marion 
ensconced herself in a distant corner, with a book 
of photographs on her knee, a distinct intimation 
that she preferred her own society to that of any 
one else. Mrs Grenfell engaged Mrs Lamington 
in close conversation regarding the symptoms of 
her husband’s sudden indisposition, and again 
Lady Crescent was left to me—or, rather, I was 
left to her—with very much the sensations of a 
helpless mouse left to the tortures of a cat. 

‘Marion, love,’ she said, looking over at her 
daughter, ‘you are in a draught, There is 
always a certain amount of draught between a 
window and a fire, and you know how delicate 
your throat is.’ 

‘I shall do very well, mother, said that young 
lady shortly, without budging. She always ignored 
my presence when possible. 

I made an attempt to escape upstairs, but 
Lady Crescent pinned me down with: 

‘By the by, Miss Ashley, Mrs Lamington pro- 
mised you would show me the sofa-blanket you 
have done for her. She said I might have it for 
Marion to copy.’ 

‘Now?’ I asked reluctantly. 

‘There is no time like the present—is there?’ 
she asked, with a disagreeable smile. 

I rose and reached forward Mrs Lamington’s 
standing work-basket, and unfolded the blanket. 

‘It looks very elaborate, she said, raising her 
tortoise-shell pince-nez and examining it; ‘but I 
dare say Marion could manage it. You could come 
along for a few afternoons and set her going. 
You could do a corner. I shall let you know 
what afternoons we are disengaged when I consult 
my engagement slate.’ 

‘I am afraid that would be quite impossible, 


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Lady Crescent, I said coldly. ‘My afternoons 
are very fully taken up. I certainly could not 
dispose of them as you propose,’ 

‘Some people are very disobliging,’ she re- 
marked, with a tart laugh. 

‘I had rather be disobliging than dishonourable,’ 
I said, with heightened colour. ‘My afternoons, 
please to remember, are not my own to give 

Lady Crescent muttered something about ‘nice 
sense of honour’ and ‘hair-splitting distinctions,’ 
with a little sneer, 

‘I presume you will hardly combat Mrs 
Lamington’s decision if I speak to her on the 
subject?’ she said, with hardly-suppressed wrath. 

‘I shall certainly combat it, I said, extremely 
nettled, ‘if it includes my giving lessons in 
needlework to strangers’ I was quite in the 
mood to do battle and to enjoy it. I do not 
know what would have been the upshot of our 
contest had not the drawing-room door suddenly 
opened and a small, white-robed figure, with 
bare feet and wide-open staring blue eyes, ushered 
itself in upon the company. 

Mrs Grenfell stifled an exclamation of alarm. 
Mrs Lamington, instinctively grasping the situa- 
tion, breathed a soft ‘Hush!’ The rest of us were 
silent, while Sid, unconscious and open-eyed, came 
towards the sofa where Lady Crescent and I were 
sitting. I laid my hand softly on the child’s, 
unwilling to wake him suddenly. Now and then, 
at long intervals, he walked in his sleep. In- 
voluntarily I drew the blanket I was exhibiting 
round his shoulders, when suddenly Lady Crescent 
made a dive at the unconscious figure. 

‘Good gracious !’ she exclaimed in astonishment, 
‘you don’t say the child’s asleep. It’s positively 
uncanny. I declare it‘thas given me quite a turn. 
I hope he doesn’t do this often, Evelyn.’ 

Thus rudely awakened, the dreaming eyes took 
on a confused expression of fear and apprehension 
that grew into positive alarm as they lighted on 
Lady Crescent’s huge nose, thus suddenly thrust 
before his eyes, and was accentuated by an abrupt 
attempt on her part to draw him to her. He 
shrank frightened into the folds of the blanket 
from her enforced embrace. The large nose, the 
waving white marabout erected on coils of false 
hair, produced only horror in the bewildered mind 
of the child. The brilliant lights, the strange 
faces, the unexpected scene, all seemed to him like 
a bad dream. He shuddered and began to cry. 

‘Let me have him, I demanded, trying to 
draw him from Lady Crescent’s tentative grasp. 

‘Nothing of the sort,’ she said, retaining her 
hold from pure contradiction. 

‘You are only frightening him,’ I said, ‘He 
should never have been waked. It is the worst 
possible thing for a sleep-walker.’ 

‘You are the only authority on the subject, I 
suppose,’ she sneered, ‘Poor little dear, his nerves 
must be quieted.’ 

Meantime the ‘poor little dear’ struggled. I 
appealed to Mrs Lamington, who was looking 
flushed and distressed on the edge of the group. 
Here Sid burst into a wail, and from the depths 
of Lady Crescent’s voluminous embrace held out 
his arms to me. 

‘Better let him away before the gentlemen come 
in” put in Mrs Grenfell; and I managed to 
extricate and carry him off. 

It was not to be the only diversion of that ill- 
fated evening. After soothing Sid I was just in 
the excited state when I would fain have crossed 
lances with Lady Crescent again. I no longer 
trembled. My blood was stirred. When I came 
back to the drawing-room I found that the 
gentlemen had joined the ladies, and that all 
were concentrated in a group round my enemy. 
She herself was standing erect, her headgear 
quivering excitedly. My first impression was that 
her dress had caught fire; my second, that some 
objectionable insect had lodged in the front 
breadth of her dress, which she was shaking so 
violently as to display a considerable length of 
ankle and white petticoat, 

‘Had it! Of course I had it, she was pro- 
testing excitedly, in answer to a suggestion of 
Mrs Lamington’s. ‘I never have missed wearing 
it in the evenings since Jack gave it to me. 
Marion clasped it for me.—Didn’t you, my love ?’ 

Marion nodded, ‘ Don’t excite yourself, mother,’ 
she said, ‘It can’t be far off’ 

But Lady Crescent made no attempt to repress 
her feelings. It might have been Billingsgate, 
instead of a highly respectable abode in Kensing- 
ton, to judge from the anxiety she manifested as 
to the safety of her property. 

‘I have a presentiment I shall never see my 
bracelet again,’ she broke out at last excitedly. 

At a suggestion from his wife, Mr Lamington 
rushed off to the dining-room and searched that 
apartment thoroughly. Lady Crescent declared 
she remembered to have seen it since coming to 
the drawing-room. The eminent scientist went 
down on his knees and delved his long thin fingers 
into the recesses of the sofa-sides with an eagerness 
that could hardly have been exceeded had there 
existed the possibility of geological or botanical 
‘specimens.’ Mr Crosley adjusted his single eye- 
glass and walked round Lady Crescent, examining 
her as if he expected to find the lost article sus- 
pended from her back hair. The diner-out seized 
the fur hearth-rug and shook it so violently that 
the dust rose in clouds from the ash-pan. Sud- 
denly Lady Crescent’s distracted looks fastened 
themselves on me. 

‘Miss Ashley, she cried, ‘you saw it. You 
remember we were talking about it at dinner. 
I told you it was a present from my nephew, 
Captain Vernon, You remember it caught on the 
lace of your sleeve at dinner?’ 

‘I certainly remember the bracelet,’ I said, 
suddenly constituted a centre of observation, and 


3 | 
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reddening furiously because of Jack’s name and 
the consciousness of Marion’s furtively scrutinising 
eyes, Lady Crescent’s remark about it catching 
in my sleeve seemed to impart a fresh impetus 
and a new direction to the search. 

Mr Crosley took a turn round me instead of 
Lady Crescent, specially focussing his eye-glass on 
my elbow, as if he fully expected to find the 
bracelet still dangling from my sleeve. The pro- 
fessional diner-out reshook the rug and blew fresh 
clouds of ash from the fireplace. Mr Lamington 
lighted a candle and examined the fender, while 
the rest of us awaited the result of the scientist’s 
operations. They were all in vain. 

‘You say it was a diamond bracelet set in gold,’ 
remarked Mr Crosley reflectively, as if the search 
had issued in the discovery of several bracelets, 
none of which exactly answered the description 
of the lost one. 

‘I did not say anything of the kind, snapped 
Lady Crescent irritably. ‘1 said it was a broad 
gold band set in opals and diamonds.’ 

‘Oh, opal!’ murmured Mrs Grenfell, turning to 
me. ‘Such an unlucky stone!’—as if this cir- 
cumstance accounted sufficiently for the mishap. 

Lady Crescent, arrived at a stage beyond con- 
cealing her anxiety, turned sharply on the speaker. 

‘Excuse me,’ she said; ‘that’s a common mis- 
take. In certain circumstances it is lucky rather 
than otherwise ; for instance, when it happens to 
be the stone of your month. My birthday is in 

This effectually put the matter beyond a doubt, 
and silenced Mrs Grenfell. 

‘Let us go to the dining-room and search there 
again. Lady Crescent may have made a mistake 
about seeing it afterwards in the drawing-room.’ 

And we repaired in a body to the scene of our 
late festivity. Clark (the butler) and the table- 
maid, both servants of long standing in the 
Lamington family, had apparently been conducting 
the search under the table, and now came up 
breathless but unsuccessful. The table-napkins 

of the entire table were shaken out without result, 
and my decorations ruthlessly picked to pieces, as 
if the bracelet might have lurked in one of the 

Lady Crescent’s agitation knew no bounds by 
this time. Mrs Lamington’s distress and _ the 
guests’ discomfort equalled it in intensity. 

‘I would not have lost Jack’s gift for worlds; 
she kept repeating. 

The guests murmured ‘Most extraordinary !’ 
at intervals, or ‘Quite inexplicable!’ or ‘Very 
mysterious!’ And every few seconds, till I was 
vaguely exasperated, Lady Crescent reiterated : 

‘You saw it, Miss Ashley. You can vouch for 
my having worn it,’ with special stress on the 
pronoun. And on each of these occasions Marion 
fixed me with her narrow green eyes. 

Our search was fruitless. The rings of the im- 
patient cabmen who had come to convey away the 
guests bore the fact in upon us at last. The 
bracelet had disappeared as completely as if it 
had been spirited away or vanished into thin air. 

The guests gradually melted away, completely 
baffled, at their wits’-end; and, I venture to 
think, with more material for discussion than is 
generally afforded by an ordinary dinner-party. 

‘Most extraordinary!’ Mrs Lamington ejacu- 
lated, reiterating the threadbare remark when her 
guests had dispersed. ‘I shan’t know a moment's 

peace till the old hag’s bracelet is found. I should 

not wonder if she thought one of us had taken it.’ 
Her eye wandered round the room, and by chance 
lighted on me as she concluded. Then she 
laughed. ‘My dear Miss Ashley,’ she continued, 
‘you looked guilty enough to have been the 
thief twice over when you heard that it was 
a present from Captain Vernon. You should 
really learn to control your blushes.’ 

I laughed and blushed again. Mrs Lamington 
privately enjoyed the Crescents’ disgust that 
Captain Vernon had been ‘hooked’ by a penniless 
governess. She had come in, too, for the odium 
of having ‘encouraged’ his attentions to me. 

By Professor A. 8S. PACKARD. 
[Copyright in the United States and Canada by Perry Mason & Co., 1900.] 

E recognise our friends by their per- 
sonal appearance, by their features, 
voice, and dress. This is because, 
with us, no two individuals are 
alike. We share, though in a 
more marked way, that quality of 

individuality which is common to all animals. 

Within very slight limits the individuals of each 

kind of insect differ from each other in colour, 

markings, size, &c. 

Ants and honey-bees are very modestly 
coloured ; and yet our best observers agree that 
the individual differences between ants and bees 
are well marked. So close and good an observer 
as Sir John Lubbock (now Lord Avebury), speaking 
of the individual differences existing between ants, 
tells us that they also differ in moral character ; 
‘that there are priests and. Levites and Good 
Samaritans among them, as among men.’ 

Lubbock does not question the general opinion 

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that ants recognise their friends, the members of 
their own colony or nest. He threw a number 
of ants into water, and let them get half-drowned 
and become insensible ; but even then they were 
recognised by their friends. He gives strong 
proof that a strange ant is never tolerated in a 

-community ; and this he claims, as a matter of 

course, implies that all the members of a colony 
have the power of recognising one another—‘a 
most surprising fact when we consider the short- 
ness of their life and their immense numbers ;’ 
for in the large nest of the European field-ant 
there are probably nearly half-a-million indi- 
viduals; and in other cases, he adds, even that 
number is exceeded. 

Huber gives an instance where ants recognised 
each other after an interval of four months. So 
apt an observer as Forel, another Swiss naturalist, 
thinks that ants will recognise each other after a 
separation of several months. 

Now, the question arises) How do ants and 
bees recognise their friends ? 

The question is difficult to answer. Some have 
even supposed that the members of each nest 
have a sign or password; but Lubbock has dis- 
proved this by experiment, and, on the face of 
it, it does not seem probable. Others have 
thought that these insects recognise one another 
by their odour or smell. This really seems the 
safest conclusion or explanation. Lubbock seems 
unwilling to accept this view; he regards it as 
‘certainly unfavourable to the theory that any- 
thing like an intelligent social sentiment exists 
among the ants. The recognition of their fellows 
is reduced to a mere matter of physical sensation 
or “smell.”’ He does not think this view is con- 
clusively established. 

It seems probable, however, in the light of 
Bethe’s researches, that in this matter we shall 
have to fall back on the sense of smell, and 
suppose that in the case of ants and bees—which 
are dull-coloured—a common scent pervades each 
colony, and that all the individuals are infected 
with it, and are thus mutually and to the same 
degree recognisable. We do know that moths 
recognise their mates by scent. The assembling 
of silkworm-moths is due to the fact that the 
males can smell the females when miles away. 

That ants can distinguish each other by some 
peculiarity of form or dress or markings of any 
sort is extremely doubtful. We know but little 
about the eyesight of insects—how well they 
see; but experiments made on certain species 
show that they do not see well, and that they 
are very near-sighted. Probably most insects only 
perceive other objects or even insects when in 
motion, when flying towards or from or past 

It cannot be denied that some insects, as 
butterflies and bees, have the colour-sense. Even 
ants have been shown by Lubbock to have this 
sense of distinguishing colours; they are very 

sensitive to violet, but not so to ultra-red rays. 
He has also shown that bees have certain colour- 
preferences; with them blue and pink are the 
most attractive colours, while they seem less in- 
clined to fancy yellow and red. 

Now, brightly-coloured bees, such as_ the 
humble-bees, which are yellow and black, pro- 
bably recognise their fellow-citizens not only by 
the odour peculiar to their species, but alsé by 
their colour-markings. It is a curious fact that 
the yaily-marked, banded, and hairy humble-bees 
are mimicked by certain big, hairy flies, species 
of Volucella, of their own size, which, though 
they have but two wings and differ in other most 
important respects, yet would, probably, be at 
first mistaken by many of my readers for humble- 
bees. Under this disguise the Volucella enters 
the nests of the bees and deposits its eggs with- 
out apparently awakening their suspicions; and 
there they live on, hatching as parasites, feeding 
at the expense of their involuntary hosts by 
devouring their young. In this case it would 
seem that the bees recognise one another by their 
colours and gay trappings, and that the Volucellas 
take advantage of their disguise to deceive their 
hosts. - 

Such styles of colouration as in humble and 
other bees, as well as other insects, have been 
called by Mr Wallace ‘recognition marks,’ and 
they are the main reliance of naturalists in re- 
cognising species, while they enable the insects 
possessing them to recognise individuals of their 
own kind. They occur in many insects such as 
wasps and butterflies; but they are most notice- 
able in those birds which assemble in flocks or 
which migrate in company. Morgan, in his in- 
teresting book entitled Animal Life and Intelligence, 
thinks that in such birds there is what he calls 
‘preferential mating’ between individuals possess- 
ing special recognition marks. 

It seems probable, then, that insects in general 
recognise others of their own kind by scent, 
while some at least distinguish their fellows by 
their colours. 

I turn now to a subject on which it is easier 
to form a decided opinion. We certainly know 
that many insects hang out danger-signals and 
warn their enemies, and thus save their own 
lives. The most familiar example, among animals, 
is that of the skunk. It is easy to see this 
creature in the night because of the broad, con- 
spicuous white stripes on its black body. Thanks 
to this danger-signal, many of us take warning 
and give the creature a wide berth; and, on the 
other hand, the creature’s enemies hesitate at 
least before attacking an animal so well armed. 
Another very clear case is that of a Nicaraguan 
frog, ‘which hops about in the daytime dressed 
in a bright livery of red and blue.’ Its immunity 
from harm is due to the fact that ducks and 
fowls cannot be induced to eat it, owing to» its 
unpleasant taste. 

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Such danger-signals among insects are displayed 
by many caterpillars, which are gaily ornamented 
with bright spots and stripes, but are distasteful 
to birds. For example, the currant measuring- 
worm—unlike others of its group, green or gray 
and protectively marked and coloured, which are 
greedily snapped up by birds—is severely left 
alone because of its bad taste. It is bright 
yellow, spotted with black. Its flaring, con- 
spicuous style of colouration warns off birds, 
which know well that it is useless to spend any 
time on them. 

Few experiments have been made with the 
American currant-worm ; but an allied European 
species has been fed by different naturalists to 
several kinds of birds, lizards, frogs, and spiders, 
all of which almost invariably refused to touch 
the caterpillars when offered to them. Yet birds 
have been known to swallow currant-worms— 
perhaps in a half-hearted way. Mr Beddard 
relates in his attractive book on Animal Colowra- 
tion that a specimen was eaten by the green 
lizard, and several birds were seen to peck at 
them, and one bird swallowed a worm. Monkeys, 
he says, are well known to be great eaters of 
insects. He experimented with four of them. 
A marmoset monkey ate insects quite greedily, 
while two Cebus monkeys sucked at caterpillars 
and threw away the skins after the contents 
had been entirely extracted; they paused now 
and again to sniff suspiciously at the caterpillars, 
but nevertheless they steadily persevered in 
munching them. 

Mr Beddard also made further experiments in 
the London Zoological Gardens, which are de- 
scribed in his book. A drone fly, which is of the 
same colour and bears a remarkable resemblance 
to the honey-bee, was seized, but quickly dropped, 
by a thrush. It was then tasted and refused, as 
if unpalatable, by an Australian plover; a third 
specimen was entirely disregarded by a rose- 
coloured pastor. A cautious Australian crow was 
offered one, which it seized, but carefully pinched 
with the tip of its bill before eating it, as if 
it had formerly experienced unpleasantness with 
a bee. Marmosets seemed afraid of the fly; but 
in some cases they soon found out the decep- 
tion, and greedily ate the insect. A blue jay 
consumed an Eristalis ‘without making any 
fuss about it ;’ and these flies, which so closely 
copy the form and colour of the honey-bee, 
were seized without hesitation and eaten with 
relish by a chameleon, green lizard, and sand- 
skink. Toads will, of course, he says, eat 
this fly, for they will eat wasps, bees, and the 
most gaudy of caterpillars, being no respecters of 

One often sees on apple-trees large clusters 
of the Datana caterpillars, which are black and 
conspicuously marked with longitudinal yellow 
stripes. No experiments have been made in offer- 
ing them to birds; but it is quite evident that 

their colours are of a warning nature, otherwise 
they would be devoured. 

Experiments on English caterpillars show that 
they are not regarded by the birds as particu- 
larly desirable. One was offered to a great spotted- 
woodpecker, and partially eaten, though after some 
delay and much pecking. The worm was eaten 
by marmosets, though they found it to be very 
tough. One was well tasted, but rejected, by a 
duck; but these worms were not noticed by 
fowls. These experiments show that caterpillars 
with warning colours may at times be eaten, if 
the bird is hungry enough. 

A case in point is that of the American tent- 
caterpillars. They appear on apple-trees when 
the leaves bud out, and early in June attain 
maturity. They feed in a very open manner, 
spinning their large, conspicuous tents in the 
crotches of the trees, and the birds never seem 
to eat them, as they refuse hairy caterpillars. 
During the summer before last, at the end of 
June, in a farmer’s orchard which was overrun 
by a large number of hens, these caterpillars 
abounded everywhere, on or near the ground 
and on the stone wall; but the hens never 
seemed to eat them. I threw a number to 
the owls, but they paid no attention. These 
caterpillars are hairy and gorgeously coloured, 
being gray, spotted with bright blue, and vari- 
ously marked. Their bright colours seem to 
signal the birds that they are inedible; and the 
industrious insect-eaters take note of the warning 
and confine their attention to the less gaily- 
decked worms swarming among the leaves and in 
the buds. Never before have these tent-cater- 
pillars been more numerous and destructive in 
the New England States, where immense damage 
was done by them to forest trees of different 
kinds. Their abundance was evidently due to 
their inedibility, and they flaunted their gay 
colours to good purpose, so far as their own 
existence was concerned. 

The trees in Boston Common and other parks 
are in some seasons sorely afflicted by the tussock 
caterpillar, which is a very beautiful yellowish 
hairy worm, with tufts and long pencils of black 
hair. It feeds in conspicuous positions, and is 
evidently unharmed by birds. We know of no 
experiments on the American species, but Mr 
Beddard says that lizards either eat or reject the 
English one. 

On the whole, though there may be exceptions, 
it seems that some, and probably many, brightly- 
marked and hairy caterpillars which feed con- 
spicuously, seeking no concealment, as most 
caterpillars do, are passed over by birds and other 
animals, and allowed to live, their bright mark- 
ings serving as danger-signals, 

Mr Poulton has also pointed out how very ‘im- 
portant it is that an inedible caterpillar should 

‘be at once recognised and avoided: ‘Owing to 

the thinness of the skin which encloses the blood 

| col 
| 801 



under considerable pressure, the slightest injury 
may prove fatal; for the blood will escape in 
considerable amount quite incommensurate with 
the size of the wound, or the pressure of the 
blood may force out the viscera; hence the 
means of protection are chiefly passive, depending 
upon concealment or advertisement by warning 

What makes the caterpillars, at least such as 
the currant-worms, distasteful has been supposed 
by Dr Eisig to be the colouring matter in the 
skin. It has also been proved that this nauseous 
pigment material is formed from the excretions 
of the animal, being the waste products of the 
blood, which are retained in the skin instead of 
being thrown off. 

Now, geologically speaking, the insects appeared 
before the birds, and in early times there may 
have been as highly-coloured caterpillars as now, 
and the warning colours may have existed with- 
out reference to insectivorous birds. Hence 
Beddard thinks that the brilliant colours have 
caused the inedibility of the species ‘rather than 
that the inedibility has necessitated the produc- 
tion of bright colour as an advertisement.’ 

Another group of insects with warning colours 
are the wasps, so gaily painted in black with 
bright-yellow trappings. Though toads and bee- 
eaters readily devour them, they are not as a 
rule molested by birds in general. A young bird 
which has innocently tried to swallow a wasp 
and been stung in the attempt will not make the 
mistake a second time, we may be sure, so easily 
are wasps recognised by their bright markings. 
It is apparently owing to this immunity of wasps 
from the attacks of most birds that certain flies 
painted like wasps are not eaten by birds. 

Once, while in the woods of northern Maine, 
my attention was attracted by an insect I had 
never before seen, and which I thought was a 
wasp. I instinctively drew my hand back, but 
afterwards captured it with a sweep of my net. 
On examination I found it was a harmless wasp- 
like fly, but with a rounder body and more truly 
wasp-like in its yellow trappings than most 

Syrphus flies. If I was thus deceived, why should 
not a bird be mistaken? These black and yellow 
Syrphus flies are very common in America, hover- 
ing near or alighting upon flowers to feed upon 
the pollen. They apparently have no fear, and 
escape the attacks of birds, and thus owe their 
immunity from danger to their resemblance to 
other insects which hang out danger-signals saying 
very plainly, ‘Touch me not.’ 

After all, as has been stated by Mr Poulton in 
his Colours of Animals, warning colours can only 
be safely adopted by a small proportion of insects 
in any country. The means of defence is so 
simple that we should expect more instances of 
it. We do see that honey-bees, with their modest 
Quaker-like garb, are not thus protected, their 
sting being their sole means of defence; but yet 
there are many beautifully-coloured bees, especially 
in the tropics, which may be said to possess 
warning colours. 

The males of insects play quite a less important 
réle than the male of the human species, in their 
own sphere; they are not the lords of creation. 
Male wasps and also bees of highly-coloured 
kinds, as humble-bees, are marked in nearly the 
same way as the workers or females; but they 
have no sting. It will be readily seen, then, 
that the warning colours of this sex are all- 
important. Certainly most people would fear to 
pick up a male wasp, though an entomologist can 
recognise them by the different shape and colour 
of the front of the head. But there is little 
doubt that birds confound them with the females, 
and let them alone. 

It may be stated, finally, that the matter of 
warning colours is not fanciful, but apparently 
well founded; for there are clear cases of the 
kind in animals. Very striking examples occur 
among snakes, frogs, and salamanders ; also, while 
some animals possess warning colours, it has been 
pretty well established that others have alluring 
colours ; but space forbids our entering upon this 
subject. Meanwhile we would commend such 
attractive themes to our young and rising 

By WILLIAM Lr QuEvux. 


| LOWLY I retraced my steps towards 
| the winding sun-lit river, stumbling 
on utterly heedless of where I 
went. Through a full hour I had 
remained with my love, holding 
her hand and trying to comfort 
her; but, emailed by a weight of secret 
sorrow, she only sobbed upon my breast. The 

world, she said, was against her, and her dream 
of happiness with me could never be realised. I 
strove to induce her to look upon the bright 
side of life, but she had only mournfully shaken 
her head, saying, ‘For me, it is all finished — 

As I went along, dull and dispirited, I turned 
and glanced back at the frowning pile standing 

e | 


out black and forbidding against the mellow sun- 
light. High up, at one of those narrow windows, 
the Princess was undoubtedly watching me; and 
as I stood at the last bend of the road from 
which I could see the Castle I tried to decide 
which was the window of the room where our 
interview had taken place. Upon my lips was 
the impress of her fond, passionate, final kiss, 
and in my ears rang her parting words of love 
and despair. Then, with a sigh, I took a farewell 
look of the ancient fortress of the Hapsburgs and 
dragged myself wearily forward ; her sweet face— 
the sweetest God ever gave to woman—rising 
before me, full of fine sympathy and irresistible 

As I had followed the servant across the old 
courtyard Judith was standing at a window, 
watching my departure. In her eyes I discerned 
a dastardly evil glint, by which I knew that she 
suspected that I had told the truth; yet I cared 
not now for her vengeance or her allegations. 

I had given the Princess timely warning of 
Judith’s identity ; but the result of my visit had 
only been to increase the mystery which seemed 
to surround her actions, and to add to our un- 

One day, nearly a week afterwards, when I was 
back in Brussels again, my man brought in a 
letter, the envelope of which bore the Hapsburg 
coronet and cipher. My heart gave a bound ; for 
Mélanie seldom wrote to me. I tore the letter 
open and read it eagerly. Full of expressions of 
trust and tenderness, it also contained a strange 
request—namely, that, in order to fulfil my pro- 
mised offer of assistance, I should proceed to 
London on the following day, and call at nine 
o'clock in the evening at a certain house in Por- 
chester Terrace, Bayswater, but for what purpose 
was not stated. 

‘If you love me, Philip, you will not hesitate 
to serve me in this,’ the letter concluded. ‘I 
rely on you to redeem your promise to assist a 
helpless and friendless woman who is in gravest 
peril. Adieu !’ 

I pondered over the strange letter long and 
earnestly ; then, finding that it had been ap- 
parently delayed for a day in delivery by post, 
and that I had only half-an-hour in which to 
catch the morning mail to England by way of 
Ostend, I scribbled a note to Sir John Drummond 
explaining my absence, and then set forth upon 
my journey. 

I arrived in London about five o’clock, dined at 
the club, and later took a hansom up to Bays- 
water. The house at which I alighted was a 
large and comfortable-looking one, which bore on 
its exterior evidences of prosperity in the shape 
of sun-blinds and a small well-kept garden. A 
few stunted, smoke-blackened trees overhung the 
wall which shut the place in from the gaze of 
passers-by ; and as, in the evening light, I passed 
up the gravelled walk I fancied I detected a dark 

figure disappear from one of the ground-floor 

The moment I ascended the steps and rung 
the bell the ludicrousness of the position flashed 
upon me: I did not know for whom to ask. 
Therefore, when the elderly man-servant opened 
the door I lamely said, ‘I believe I am expected 
here,’ and handed him a card. 

‘Yes, sir,’ answered the smart and evidently 
well-trained man. ‘Kindly step this way ;’ and 
he led me to an elegantly appointed little room 
which looked out upon a small flower-garden in 
the rear. 

I wondered why I had been sent there; but I 
was not kept long in suspense, for a few seconds 
later the door was opened and Mélanie herself, in 
a dark-green travelling-dress and neat toque, stood 
before me. 

‘Ah, dearest !’ I said in joyous surprise, spring- 
ing forward and seizing her hand, ‘I had no idea 
that you were in London.’ 

‘No,’ she smiled. ‘But how am I to thank 
you sufficiently for keeping this appointment ?’ 

‘Thanks are unnecessary between lovers,’ I 

‘Then you do still love me, Philip?’ she asked 
in a strange tone of doubt and anxiety. 

‘Love you! Of course I do, darling. Why do 
you doubt me?’ I asked quickly. 

She sighed, and I thought I detected in the 
corners of her pretty mouth an almost impercep- 
tible expression of bitterness. 

‘Because,’ she answered in a low, nervous voice 
—‘because, when you know the truth, your love 
will turn to hatred.’ 

‘Never!’ I cried. ‘Never! How strangely you 
speak! Tell me why you have come here, and 
what I can do to assist you.’ 

‘Wait,’ she answered in the voice of one speak- 
ing in a dream. ‘Be patient, and you shall know 

‘But it is all so puzzling,’ I said. Then, after 
an instant’s pause, I asked, ‘What of Judith? 
Has she left you?’ 

She nodded. 

‘After making a charg> against me?’ I in- 

Again she nodded. 

‘And you believe it?’ I gasped. 

‘I believe nothing without proof,’ she answered ; 
and I saw a sweet, sympathetic love-look still in 
her eyes. 

‘I swear that her allegation is not true,’ I said. 

She was calm but pale, and I fancied she 
shuddered when I took her hand and raised it to 
my lips. 

‘You think it strange that I should meet 
you here,’ she said at last. ‘This house is the 
home of a lady with whom I lived for three 
years while learning English, and this room 
has been kept just as I left it on my return 
home to make my début in society. How well 

| in 
| de 
| sil 
| | 
| th 
| ag 
| | 
| pa 
ay | co 
| fo 
| w 
| he 
| ; 
| ki 



I remember it,’ she exclaimed, glancing round ; 
‘and how happy I used to be here, in my 
girlhood days, before the great evil fell upon 

‘The great evil? What do you mean ?’ 

‘Ah, Philip!’ she answered, ‘it is only right 
and just that you should know, even if after I 
have spoken I dare never to look into your face 
again. You are an honest, upright, conscientious 
man, a trusted servant of your Queen and 
country, and a lover of whom any woman might 
be proud—yet I have deceived you.’ 

‘Deceived me!’ I ejaculated. ‘How ?’ 

‘Towards you my life has been a living lie. 
I have’—— 

But her words were interrupted by the entrance 
of the man-servant, who said, ‘A gentleman who 
gives the name of Krauss desires to see your 

‘Krauss!’ she gasped, turning to me, in an 
instant white as death. ‘Is he alone?’ she in- 
quired with an assumed calmness. 

‘A lady is with him. She is fair, and dressed 
in black.’ 

There was a short pause; then, with a calm, 
determined look, she ordered them both to be 
shown in. 

‘Krauss and Judith Kohn!’ she said, turning 
to me. ‘They have lost no time in tracing 
me here, and their purpose is undoubtedly a 
sinister one: to obtain by foul means that which 
I have refused them.’ 

‘Happily I am with you,’ I said reassuringly. 

‘Yes, yes,’ she cried in despair; ‘but you, like 
all others, will turn from me when you know the 
wretched, ghastly truth.’ 

Next instant the spy and traitor, together with 
the handsome woman who was his ingenious con- 
federate, entered the room. Both drew _ back 
aghast. Probably they remembered that the frus- 
tration of their clever designs was once due to 
my watchfulness; at any rate they both had 
sufficient cause to detest the memory of those 
past days. 

‘Good-evening to you,’ I said, with an affected 
politeness. The interesting pair had evidently 
walked quite unconsciously into a trap. Their 
confusion was, however, very quickly dispelled, 
for Krauss, arrogant and overbearing as was his 
wont, answered : 

‘I called to see the Princess alone.’ 

‘I am a friend of hers—an intimate friend— 
and shall yemain here,’ I said. 

‘Then my business can wait until she is alone,’ 
he answered, with a grin. ‘I am in no immediate 
hurry, I assure you.’ 

‘Speak,’ exclaimed Mélanie hoarsely, grasping 
the back of a chair to steady herself. ‘I well 
know that the object of your visit is in continua- 
tion of the overtures you have so constantly made 
to me. Speak. Explain.’ 

‘My business can only be transacted with you 

when alone, he answered, fixing his eyes upon 
her quite calmly. 

Judith stood at a little distance, a silent figure 
in black, her handsome features but half-concealed 
by her spotted veil. 

‘You know Philip Crawford,’ Mélanie said im- 
patiently. ‘You have met before, and are not 
strangers. Why do you hesitate to speak ?’ 

The spy, silent for a few moments, exchanged 
a quick glance with his companion. 

‘Because,’ he said at last, ‘exposure is quite 
unnecessary. The matter between us is entirely 
of a private character.’ 

‘Then if you are determined not to speak, I 
myself will explain, said Mélanie, bracing herself 
up with an effort. ‘I am resolved to suffer no 
longer. I am determined to end once for all this 
eternal mental torture, even at risk of losing 
all in this world I hold most dear.’ 

‘Your love—eh?’ sneered Krauss, with a glance 
of contempt at me. He had not forgotten our 
encounter on that well-remembered night in 

‘Listen, Philip!’ she cried in a voice of despera- 
tion. ‘The persecution of this man has driven 
me to moral suicide. To-night I will end it all. 
Hear me, and then judge my faults impartially 
and with justice. I know I am unworthy; yet 
I have deceived you because, loving you as I 
did, I feared that, when you knew the hideous 
truth, you would cast me aside and forsake 

A cynical laugh escaped the ex-captain’s lips. 

‘Continue, I said. ‘Take no heed of this re- 
leased criminal’s jeers.’ 

Krauss made no reply; his face puckered into 
a frown, and he darted at me an evil glance. 

‘For years I have been this man’s victim,’ 
the Princess continued breathlessly. ‘ Fearing 
always to disobey his commands, I have been 
compelled to act as he has directed, to be 
his cat’s-paw in the many dishonourable trans- 
actions in which he has been implicated. To- 
night, however, I release myself from the hate- 
ful thraldom by making full confession of all 
the past. True, I am of an honourable House 
upon whom no breath of scandal has ever rested, 
and at the outset I declare that I will rather 
die by my own hand than bring discredit and 
idle gossip upon the Hapsburgs. The pride of 
my family has always been the virtue and in- 
tegrity of its women; and in order to clear the 
escutcheon I have besmirched by my conduct 
I tell the whole truth without concealing a 
single fact.’ 

‘Then you’re an idiotic fool,’ interrupted Krauss 
bluntly. ‘You were always the most circumspect 
and cautious woman I ever knew; but now you 
actually intend to bring scandal on yourself in a 
manner utterly unnecessary. You alone can suffer 
by such an exposure.’ 

‘Wait until I have finished, she cried, turning 


fiercely upon him. ‘I have suffered enough at 
your unscrupulous hands. I have been compelled 
to perform mean and despicable actions, even to 
commit crimes which might have brought me 
within the clutches of the law, to pose as your 
lover when you so desired it, and to render you 
assistance in official quarters. Little the world 
has imagined that you, the condemned traitor to 
your country, obtained your liberty through my 
effort, or that my money has kept you in luxury 
and extravagance for months—nay, years. And 
why? Because I feared you. I was not long in 
discovering how mean and relentless you could be 
when occasion required, and I knew that defiance 
meant my ruin and a scandal which would fill 
the newspapers, and cause half Europe to gossip. 
The safety of an empire was at stake ; the honour 
of a Royal House was in your hands; therefore I, 
believed by all to be innocent and ingenuous, was 
compelled to submit to your demands, to act as 
you dictated, to supply you with information 
which you sold at enormous profit to enemies of 
my House and country. In a foolish moment I 
had placed myself in your power; and you, 
a cunning schemer, used me as your tool where- 
with to execute some of the most delicate and 
ingenious feats of espionage ever perpetrated. 
Nothing is sacred to you—patriotism, honour, 
family ties, or even a woman’s life. These three 
long weary years have to me been a veritable 
century of suffering. Now you have driven me 
to desperation ; and I prefer exposure, the execra- 
tion of the world, even the denunciation of the 
man who loves me so tenderly and truly, to this 
secret alliance which has crushed and killed my 
very soul.’ 

At these passionate words the man drew back 
with an uneasy laugh, meant to be derisive, but 
sounding strangely artificial My previous deal- 
ings with him had shown me that he was by no 
means easily abashed. To obtain success he had 
hesitated at nothing, and was an adventurer of 
the very worst and most irresponsible type. There 
was a look of cruel, crafty cunning upon his 
countenance, and a glitter in his eyes which told 
of fierce thoughts within. 

‘Well,’ he said, ‘explain all if you consider it 
wise. You alone will suffer.’ 

‘You,’ she cried, ‘have striven to drive me to 
commit suicide, and I should long ago have taken 
my own life were it not for the fact that by 
doing so you would triumph. Indirectly you 
sent this woman to me,’ she said, pointing to 
Judith, ‘in order to obtain what you sought; 
but by a fortunate circumstance Mr Crawford 
came to Brandenberg, and there recognised her as 
the woman who helped you in your nefarious, 
traitorous work in Vienna. It placed me on my 
guard, and happily I have been enabled to 
frustrate your attempt at a coup which would 
undoubtedly have startled the world.’ 

‘But tell me,’ I interrupted, much puzzled— 

‘tell me by what influence you have been held 
powerless in the toils of this man.’ 

‘Ah! it is a wretched story,’ she answered, 
turning to me; ‘yet it is only just that all 
mystery should now be removed, and that you 
should have full and clear explanation. Four 
years ago, while still in my teens, I delighted to 
escape from the Palace and wander about alone. 
We were living in Vienna, and I often went out 
secretly and alone to make various little pur- 
chases, being in the habit of calling at a pastry- 
cook’s where they made English tea. On one 
of these visits I met a smart-looking officer who 
showed me some trivial attention, and who 
afterwards returned so frequently that I could 
not help guessing that he came purposely to meet 
and chat with me. This acquaintanceship quickly 
became more sincere; he gave me his card, and 
at his request I one evening met him clandes- 
tinely. In those romantic days of girlhood I 
thought it great amusement to have a lover, and 
evening after evening I would contrive to get 
away from the home-circle to walk with him. 
Months went on. He was unaware of my name 
or who I was—for I had given as my address the 
house of a friend on the outskirts of the city— 
until one day he was ordered to do duty with 
the Palace-guard, and quite by accident dis- 
covered my identity. Almost a year had elapsed— 
a year of halcyon days and foolish dreams of love 
and happiness—when one evening he did not keep 
the appointment he had made. I waited for him 
over an hour, then went back disappointed. For 
three evenings following I returned to the same 
spot; but he came not, nor did he write and 
explain. I thought that probably he had been 
ordered into the country suddenly; but about a 
week later the real truth became revealed, for I 
received anonymously in an envelope a clipping 
from a newspaper which briefly stated that Cap- 
tain Oswald Krauss of the 33rd Regiment of 
Artillery had been arrested for gross dereliction 
of duty.’ 

‘Krauss!’ I echoed. ‘Then he was the oflicer 
whom you met, and whom you loved !’ 

‘Yes,’ she answered hoarsely. ‘I loved him ; 
but remember I was young, and utterly inex- 
perienced in the ways of the world. I knew little 
of life beyond the walls of the Palace or of 

‘Well, after his arrest—what then?’ I in- 
quired, amazed at her revelation, and recollecting 
how I had successfully tracked the spy through 
a perfect labyrinth of complications previous to 
his arrest. 

‘I knew that he would be tried by court-mar- 
tial ; therefore at my request the president allowed 
me to remain in an adjoining room at the trial. 
There, through a small window, I saw the man 
who was my lover standing between two guards 
with fixed bayonets, and I heard the terrible 
charge against him. I heard the evidence, and 



| | 
| | 
| fi 
| ti 
| di 
q is 
| | 
| is 


was present when you explained how you had 
first made the discovery of his treachery. He 
trembled at your calm, straightforward denuncia- 
tion, and I saw of what dastardly treachery he 
had been guilty. He had coclly sold his country, 
and placed the lives of his fellow-men in jeopardy 
in exchange for German gold. Had you not dis- 
covered the truth in time he would have given 
Germany the key to Austria.’ 

‘You actually heard me give my evidence?’ I 
exclaimed, amazed. 

‘I heard every word of it, being present each 
day that the court-martial sat,’ she answered. 
‘I was present, too, on that morning when at 

sunrise the spy was led forth into the barrack- 
square, and, in front of the whole garrison, his 
sentence was read out, although the exact charge 
was not stated, for fear of giving offence to Ger- 
many. Then his sword was broken, his epaulettes 
torn off, the gay braiding cut from his tunic; 
and, to loud drumming and the execrations of 
his brother-officers and the men who had served 
under him, he was led off to prison, a scowling, 
sneaking wretch in whose crime there had been 
no extenuating circumstance. From that moment 
my love for him turned to hatred. He had de- 
ceived me, and had sought to betray his country 
and his Emperor.’ 



E used to laugh at the man in the 
play who was anxious to speculate 
on the Stock Exchange, and being 
advised to ‘sell Trunks,’ eagerly 
began to buy Grand Trunk stock, 
that he might be in a position to 

sell. But probably no very large proportion of 

us would have known how to go to work if, 
holding no stock, we had wished to take advan- 
tage of a falling market. We knew vaguely that 

the Stock Exchange was the portal to either a 

country mansion or the bankruptcy court, and 

that it sometimes led from one to the other. 

How it was done, however, was as deep a mys- 

tery as some of those manufacturing processes of 

which we see the completed results every day, but 
the details of which are hidden from the eye. 
However, knowledge is now extending in all 
directions, and soon there will be no mysteries 
left. Every Board school teaches the history of 
the common things around us; and—to come 
back to stocks—-every newspaper contains the 
seductive announcements of those who are pre- 
pared not only to initiate you into all the secrets 
of the Stock Exchange, but to show you how you 
may enter its mazes with a certainty of coming 
back a richer and a wiser man. For one who 
knew anything about speculation in stocks and 
shares thirty years ago, there must now be a 
hundred. There are, I think, three principal 
reasons for this change: (1) the spread of educa- 
tion of a superficial character, which has tended 
to popularise everything which depends for its 
success upon the number of persons possessing 
a little knowledge; (2) the greater diffusion 
of wealth, so that a very large proportion of 
the people have now rather more income than 
is needed to meet the immediate wants of the 
hour; (3) the enormous development of the 
joint-stock system, which has thrown open to 
public speculation hundreds of business con- 
cerns which would a quarter of a century ago 

have been conducted by private individuals, 
singly or in partnership. 

The third cause is largely the outcome of the 
first and second. This combination of a little 
wealth with a little knowledge has given strength 
and appetite to the gambling spirit inherent in a 
large proportion of mankind; and this has found 
its nourishment on the Stock Exchange and the 
turf. The class of man who used to hear only 
the remote echoes of the great events of Epsom 
and Newmarket and Doncaster has now just suffi- 
cient education to ‘follow form’ in the sporting 
papers, and just sufficient spare cash to back his 
fancy for half-a-crown with the neighbouring 
hairdresser or tobacconist, or the ‘bookie’ lurk- 
ing at the street corner. The middle-class pater- 
familias who would in days gore by have carefully 
hoarded the hundred pounds he had _ laboriously 
saved is now immersed in a constant stream of 
prospectuses which invite him to invest it at 
20 per cent., and ‘bucket-shop’ circulars which 
show how he may double it in a few weeks. 

The gambling bacillus is abroad in the land, 
and has found its way among all classes, not 
omitting by any means the parsonage and the 
manse. We are all, indeed, bitten by the same 
craze—the desire to get money without earning it. 
It does not lie in the mouth of the speculative 
lord to blame the labourer’s pitch-and-toss ; neither 
can the labourer who has his ‘bit’ on a horse throw 
stones at the peer’s over-capitalised company. The 
man who never earned a shilling in his life by 
honest toil is just as anxious to add to his posses- 
sions by a successful gamble as is the worker 
to add a trifle to his hard-earned wages. 

The moral aspect of all this seems to be entirely 
a question of degree and of circumstances. Where 
is the difference between the man who buys a plot 
of land because he believes it will increase in value 
and one who purchases Grand Trunk stock because 
he believes the price will go up? The essence of 
the two transactions is the same; either may, 



according to the circumstances, be a pure gamble 
or a piece of perfectly legitimate enterprise. 

Be this as it may, I did not set out to criticise 
others or to discuss morals, but to narrate the 
results of my own modest excursion into the 
domain of speculative finance. It may interest 
those who have had similar experiences, as well 
as those who have never put their fingers to the 
fire, or rather to the cog-wheels, for that is a 
more appropriate simile ; and it should also serve 
as a warning to some who may be tempted to 
‘listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy 
and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope’ 
which are heard and seen in the neighbourhood of 
Capel Court. I shall be laughed at, no doubt ; 
but this happy land contains a large and varied 
assortment of fools, and the folly of those who 
laugh may have taken another form. At any 
rate, I paid for my experience without any serious 
detriment either to myself or to any one else, and 
not all the fools can say so much as that. 

It was in April last year that my attention 
was drawn to an advertisement offering to send, 
post free, a pamphlet showing how to deal suc- 
cessfully in shares, and I wrote for a copy. It 
came in due course, and was quickly followed 
by two from other firms who had by some means 
discovered where to cast their bait. Perhaps they 
had a spy in the rival office. However, I dealt 
only with the people to whom I first wrote. I 
formed the opinion that they were a respectable, 
well-established firm (though not, of course, 
members of the Stock Exchange, or they could 
not have advertised), and I have found no reason 
to change that opinion. At the same time my 
readers are advised never to invest money except 
through a recognised member of the Stock 

The prospectus indicated several methods of 
speculation or investment; but my observations 
will be confined to ‘cover accounts,’ or speculation 
in differences. 

Let the reader look at the list of Stock Exchange 
quotations in his daily paper, and he will find 
that, as compared with the previous day, certain 
stocks have gone up and others down. London, 
Chatnam, and Dover Railway Stock, for example, 
may have stood at 264 to 26} yesterday, and 
fallen to-day to 253 to 26. No commission is 
charged, and the margin between the higher 
quotation and the lower furnishes the dealer's 
profit. Consequently, whereas yesterday you could 
have bought stock at £26, 15s. or sold it at 
£26, 10s., to-day you can buy at £26 or sell at 
£25, 15s. So far as it affects the speculator the 
margin is like the banker’s advantage in vingt- 
a-un, rouge et noir, and other games of that 
character. The gamester, in his optimism, is con- 
tent that the mathematical chances should be 
slightly against him, trusting to his luck to 
counteract the disadvantage ; and the speculator in 
differences runs a similar risk, relying partly on 

luck and partly on what he knows of the 
probable course of the market. 

Of course where the change in price is greater 
the amount of the dealer’s margin is proportion- 
ately smaller. Had Chathams fallen from 26$-} 
to 25}-3, the man who sold £500 yesterday 
and repurchased to-day would have made £5, 
the difference between £26, 10s. per cent. and 
£25, 10s. per cent. The dealer’s contract notes 
would in that case read something like this: 

Jany. 1, 1900. 
Bought by us of John Smith, Esq., 
for account Jany. 10, 
£500 London, Chatham, and Dover Stock at 
Jany. 2, 1909. 
Sold by us to John Smith, Esq., 
for account Jany. 10, 
£500 London, Chatham, and Dover Stock at 
£127 10 0 

Of course, no stock passes. Indeed, there is no 
sale at all; it is merely a contract to sell, and 
one transaction neutralises the other. It is only 
on settling-day that the time comes for specific 
performance. The settlement occurs about once a 
fortnight ; and I suppose in the ordinary course 
of things John Smith would have been obliged to 
purchase Chatham stock by the 10th of January, 
in order to fulfil his contract to sell, whatever 
the price they had gone to in the meantime ; but 
he has an alternative. He may pay a contango, 
and thus carry over the transaction to the next 
settlement, when a change in the quotation may 
have taken place which will make his situation 
either better or worse than before. Of the con- 
tango, which is of the nature of interest, I shall 
have a little more to say hereafter. 

I need hardly say that were every speculator 
required to make himself responsible for the full 
value of the stock which he buys or sells these 
operations could never gain a wide popularity. 
Hence the invention of the system of cover, which 
presents itself at first sight in charmingly modest 
and attractive colours. This is how the cover- 
system works: You have—or think you have— 
reason to believe that Chatham stock will rise, 
and you send to the dealer £10, instracting him 
to buy for you (or sell to you, for that is nomi- 
nally the nature of the transaction) £1000 of 
Chatham at 1 per cent. cover. This means that 
your liability is limited to £10. If the stock 
stands at 264-3, and you buy at 263, and it 
rises before the settlement 1}, to 27}-28, you can 
sell at £27, 15s, thus making a profit of £10; 
but if it falls %, to 25g-§ (the cover not 
running off until its limit, in this case 259, 
is the middle price), then your £10 is gone. 

I don’t know that there is any limit to the 
amount which may be risked in this way. A 

-cover of £500 at 1 per cent. commands £50,000 

of stock, and you may gain £1000 if the quota- 


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tion rises over two points before the settlement. 
On the other hand, of course, a very moderate 
fall will sweep away the £500. If you choose to 
make the cover 2 or 3 per cent. you can do s0, 
and run a smaller risk, for the stock must fall 
two or three points before the cover runs off; 
but of course the chances of gain are also smaller, 
for at 3 per cent. it would require £30 to com- 
mand £1000 of stock. One would think that 3 
per cent. was a tolerably safe margin, and that 
you could with some confidence risk a fall of 
three points when a rise of one will at any rate 
give you some 30 per cent. profit. But after all 
(apart from any knowledge you may possess of 
the probable course of the market) this is only 
like laying odds of three to one on a three to one 
chance, with the odds slightly against you, as re- 
presented by the dealer’s margin; and my own 
experience shows that 3 per cent. is not enough 
to ensure safety. This will be readily understood 
when I say that Chathams, for example, last year 
varied from 28? to 214, and this is not an ex- 
treme instance of fluctuation. Many British rail- 
way stocks varied more than 10 per cent. Great 
Eastern Ordinary fluctuated between 120 and 138. 

Some of the facts I have mentioned were not, 
I confess, clear to me when I resolved to try on 
a small scale what it felt like to speculate in 
stocks. It would not risk much. It might give 
me the novel sensation of getting a few pounds 
without earning them, and it would at least give 
me a little experience of the interest which those 
dull-looking columns in the commercial pages of 
the daily newspapers must possess for thousands 
of persons. I admit it was a mere gamble, for I 
did not even trust to any knowledge, or acute- 
ness, or prevision of my own. The firm an- 
nounced in their prospectus that at the request 
of many clients they had established a system of 
operating every Monday in a stock likely to go 
up or down. They made contracts in these 
stocks for any one sending the amount of the 
cover (2 per cent. being the rule in this depart- 
ment), and the client could either close the trans- 
action when he chose or leave it to their 
discretion. It is due to them to say that they 
expressed a preference for clients to select their 
own stock, and I do not in the least blame them 
for the unfortunate results of the selections they 
made on my behalf. It is doubtless to their in- 
terest that their clients should succeed, and thus 
be encouraged to further business. 

On April 29 I sent a cheque for £5, being 
2 per cent. cover on £250 of stock selected by 
the dealers, to close at their discretion. This 
was the minimum acceptable, and the reader 
need only multiply my figures throughout to see 
how much may be gained or lost in these trans- 
actions; for had the cheque been for £500 the 
result, in proportion, would of course have been 
the same. In due course came a contract note for 
the sale to me of £250 North British Ordinary 

at 45} (£113, 2s. 6d.) for settlement May 12. 
Within a day or two the stock, instead of rising, 
as had been expected, was down below 45, but. it 
kept fairly steady ; and at the close of the week, 
so as to have another iron in the fire, I sent a 
second £5 on similar terms. This time I pur- 
chased £250 Great Eastern at 127% (£319, 
13s. 9d.), and two days later came another note 
showing that the Great Eastern had been sold at 
128% (£321, 11s. 3d.). Here was a clear gain of 
£1, 17s. 6d. on the first completed transaction, 
though a little of the gilt was taken off it by the 
receipt of a contango note showing that, short as 
had been the interval between purchase and sale, 
it had been necessary to carry the contract over 
to the next settlement at a cost of 18s. 9d. The 
North British were also carried over, but the 
charge for this was only 5s. 8d.; and, deducting 
the contangoes, I was still left with a balance of 
13s. 1d. to the good. 

Slightly encouraged by this result, I next ven- 
tured upon a little deal on my own account. 
Being persuaded, in my wisdom, that Spanish 
Bonds were at an inflated price, and bound to 
come down, I sent £5 for the sale of £500 worth 
at 1 per cent. cover. They were bought from 
me on May 25 at 618, and the very next day, 
for some inscrutable reason, they shot up, to about 
64, so away went my £5 irrecoverably. 

North British meantime continued sluggish, but 
remained well above the 43}, at which the cover 
would run off. On May 29 they were again 
carried over at a cost of 5s. 8d., the price about 
this time being 44}-}. Seeing that I had got 
on a weak stock, and hankering after that £5 
lost on Spanish Bonds, I sent another £5 to be 
invested as the dealers thought best; and on 
June 5 I was the purchaser of £250 Great 
Northern Deferred at 714, at 2 per cent. cover. 
This bold venture must have alarmed the market, 
for the stock at once began to decline steadily. 
Indeed, home rails generally were just entering 
upon a rather bad time; and within a short 
period both my outstanding contracts had ap- 
proached perilously near the running-off point. 
At the risk of throwing good money after bad, I 
wired on June 9 to increase the cover on both 
stocks to 3 per cent., and thus for another £5 I 
was safe till North British ran down to 42}, or 
Great Northern to 68}. I omit the fractional 
margin for convenience, and, indeed, it did not 
affect the result in any case. 

All through this month of June business in 
home rails was deadly dull; money was said to 
be dear—that was the chief cause assigned—and 
political troubles were in the air. Day after day 
my two precious stocks stood at fractions over 42 
and 69 respectively, and watching the quotations 
lost its interest in a sickening monotony. Then 
I bethought me of a piece of advice given in my 
dealers’ pamphlet: that if you hold a stock that 
has fallen and it is a good security, the wise 

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plan is to buy again at the lower figure, for a rise 
will probably follow on the fall, and then you 
will get a profit on the second purchase if not on 
the first. Accordingly I resolved to retrieve my 
waning fortunes by a master-stroke, and sent £10 
to the dealers with instructions to sell me £250 
each of the two stocks if they thought it would 
be a good plan in my circumstances. The reply 
was that they thought the home railway market 
was likely now to go better, and that North 
British and Great Northern were two of the 
cheapest stocks on the list. On June 24, there- 
fore, I became the holder of £250 more North 
British at 42%, and £250 Great Northern at 69%. 
I now held £1000, nominal, and had £25 at 
risk. The £5 on Spanish Bonds had gone, the 
profit on Great Eastern had already dribbled 
away in contangoes, and the £5 originally in- 
vested in this stock was being eaten into by 
these recurrent charges for bridging over from 
one settlement to another. 

July brought no improvement in the situation. 
Various home rails attained better prices as the 
dividend season came round; but my two stocks 
continued miserably flat. By the 17th the Great 
Northern bought on June 5 fell to vanishing- 
point, and at 684 the 3 per cent. cover ran off. 
On the 28th the dividend was announced. This 
disappointed the market and caused a heavy fall, 
which left my second purchase hopelessly in 
arrear, so that also ran off at 67%. It was now 
becoming a serious question whether I should 
save anything at all from the wreck. I was 
simply waterlogged and could do nothing, except 
take the advice the dealers tendered to put 
money in some other ship. This I was not 

disposed to do, and there was nothing for it but 
to await events. 

I was thus left with only the North Pritish, 
and the prospect for them was by no means a 
rosy one. Dissension in the management of the 
line had come to a head; and though this did 
not affect the price so seriously as might have 
been expected, I had little hope of saving the 
£12, 10s. which remained. On August 2 the 
first lot went by the board, the £250 bought 
just three months before running off at 42}, 
after I had paid £1, 11s. 9d. for carrying it 
over six settlements. The one hope remaining 
was that the dividend announcement might save 
my last £5; but the Scotch lines do not declare 
their dividends until September, and before the 
announcement was made the price had fallen to 
my limit. On the 9th 403 was touched, and my 
little adventure came to an ignominious con- 
clusion. This was the net result of it: 

£35 0 0 
u Profit on Great Eastern............... 117 6 
£36 17 6 
By loss on North British.................. £12 10 0 
" Great Northern................ 1210 0 
" " Spanish Se 5 00 
£3617 6 

It would have been rather too tragically comic 
to receive 9d. as the sole salvage from the wreck ; 
and I wrote and told the dealers to give it to 
the office-boy, which I presume they did. They 
again advised me to try this and that; but I 
had come to the conclusion that speculation in 
differences was not a sufficiently interesting game 
at the price, 


OST people in England, if asked 
about the State of Washington, 
would say that it was somewhere 
up in the frozen north, near Alaska, 
and it is hard to realise the fact 
that, far north as it is, Washington 

enjoys one of the mildest, most delightful, and 

most equable climates in the whole world. 

Washington is the extreme western state of the 
Union, and lies between the British Columbia 
line on the north and the Columbia River on the 
south, a distance of two hundred and twenty 
miles, On the east is Idaho, and three hun- 
dred and thirty miles across is the Pacific Ocean. 
Its area is nearly forty-five million acres. 

The state is divided into two quite different 
regions by the Cascade Mountains, a range that 
averages about eight thousand feet in height. 

Eastern Washington is almost entirely agvri- 
cultural. Here, in the rich valleys of the Palouse 
and the Big Bend, and the fertile plains that 


border on the Columbia River, are the wheat-fields 
that produce most of the grain that goes to 
Europe from the Pacific coast, The soil is a rich 
sandy loam, and so well watered is it that the 
crops seldom, if ever, fail, as in California, from 
drought, while the pests that infest the wheat in 

other parts seem to be unknown here, Over .- 

twenty million bushels are raised here every year, 
the greater part of which is exported to Europe 
by way of Tacoma and Puget Sound. There is, 
however, a large quantity of flour manufactured 
in the numerous mills in this section; and most 
of this, outside of local consumption, is shipped to 

China and Japan. Wheat yields from thirty-five: 

to fifty bushels to the acre, and is the principal 
crop; but hay, potatoes, and fruit grow to per- 
fection, and are raised in large quantities. This 
is also a fine country for stock-raising and dairy- 
farming. Cattle do well on what is known as 
the ‘bunch-grass’ of the ranges, and are always 

‘in demand. The butter and cheese made here 

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amount to over six hundred thousand dollars 

Just east of the Cascade Mountains is what was 
formerly known as the Great Yakima Desert, a 
stretch of rolling country, entirely without water, 
with a light soil of volcanic ash that looks like 
cement, and which in its natural state will grow 
nothing but wild-sage brush, Some years ago a 
great system of irrigation was started, conducting 
water in canals from the Columbia and Yakima 
Rivers and from artesian wells; and the result is 
that the desert has been transformed into one 
of the most fertile regions on the earth. The 
flourishing town of Yakima is surrounded by an 
immense area of irrigated land divided up into 
small farms, on which are raised extraordinary 
crops of hay, alfalfa, potatoes, and fruit. Four 
crops of alfalfa can be cut in one season; and 
this makes the finest kind of feed for hogs 
and cattle. Potatoes yield from two hundred 
to five hundred bushels to the acre; while the 
yield of fruit is enormous—apples, pears, peaches, 
apricots, melons, grapes, and cherries, Prunes 
(dried for export) and hops form a big item 
in the product of this irrigated country. The 
summers east of the Cascades are warm, and 
the winters are tolerably cold, with plenty of 

The Northern Pacific Railroad and the Great 
Northern Railroad cross the Cascades through 
different passes in the mountains, at great eleva- 
tions, and partly through tunnels at the summit. 
This journey over the mountains is one of the 
great attractions of transcontinental travel. The 
wild, rugged scenery is terrible in its grandeur, 
as seen from the dizzy height as the train literally 
climbs up the steep ascent. As you descend the 
western slope, at this time of the year, you leave 
the snow and all signs of winter behind you, and 
strike a new climate entirely. Here everything 
is fresh and green and spring-like. Cattle are 
grazing out, and there is no sign of winter 
anywhere; the air is warm, and your heavy 
overcoat feels uncomfortable. 

The western side of the mountains is covered 
by an almost limitless forest of fir, cedar, and 
spruce that extends in some parts clear to the 
Pacific Ocean. The trees are enormous—from 
three to six feet in diameter, and from two hun- 
dred to three hundred feet in height. This timber 
is Washington’s great source of wealth, and, even 
at the present rapid rate of consumption, will last 
for generations. The trees when cut down are 
sawn into logs and floated down the small streams, 
or brought by rail to the sawmills on Puget 
Sound. The output of lumber from the sawmills 
of the Sound amounts to over ten million dollars 
annually, The fir lumber is for the most part 
shipped to foreign countries in sailing-ships or 
to the eastern states by rail. It is always in great 
demand on account of its superior strength, and 
for the almost unlimited size of the timbers. A 

stick of timber thirty inches by thirty inches and 
a hundred feet long, without a knot, is nothing 
unusual. The cedar is shipped in the shape of 
roofing shingles, doors, and fine inside finishing. 
The sawmills of Puget Sound are large concerns, 
many of them cutting from three hundred to four 
hundred thousand feet per day, and employing 
hundreds of men. Unlike the pine of the eastern 
states, the fir and cedar will not grow on poor 

The mountains and foot-hills are full of 
minerals — gold, silver, lead, copper, and iron, 
These are extensively mined; but still the great 
mineral resources of the state have hardly begun 
to be developed, 

Washington bids fair to be the great coal-pro- 
ducing state of the Union. There are immense 
deposits of lignite and bituminous coal nearly all 
over the western part of the state. The mines 
already opened up yield over twenty million 
tons annually, nearly all of which is shipped to 
California and the Hawaiian Islands, So extensive 
are the coalfields that so far they have hardly 
been touched, and there are thousands of acres 
of the finest coal-land, with seams of coal ten 
feet thick and over, lying waiting for capital to 
develop them. In the near future there is going 
to be a great manufacturing city somewhere on 
Puget Sound, as the supply of coal is practically 

The valleys and districts watered by the numer- 
ous rivers, the islands in the Sound, and the 
lands bordering upon it are wonderfully fertile. 
Fruit and vegetables grow to perfection. Straw- 
berries grow so large that some varieties weigh 
an ounce apiece, and cannot be eaten at one 
mouthful. Cherries yield enormously, and so do 
apples, pears, and plums. Prunes make the most 
profitable crop. The trees begin to bear at about 
four years, and an eight-year-old orchard will 
yield six tons of green fruit to the acre. Prunes 
are nearly all dried and shipped to the eastern 
markets and to Europe. Hops are extensively 
grown, and more than forty thousand bales were 
shipped abroad last year. The hop-picking is 
a very busy time while it lasts, most of the 
pickers being Indians who come from long dis- 
tances, even from British Columbia, to share in 
the hop-harvest. The arrival of these Indians in 
their canoes is one of the picturesque sights of 

Wheat is not raised on the west side of the 
mountains, but oats are; and on the reclaimed 
lands, and those lands overflowed by the freshets 
on some of the rivers, the yield is from one 
hundred and twenty-five to one hundred and fifty 
bushels to the acre. Some of these low lands have 
been raising oats steadily for thirty years in 
succession, and the yield still keeps up. 

Western Washington is a perfect paradise for 
flowers, Roses grow here in greater profusion 
than in any other part of the world, Even the 

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choicest varieties grow out of doors, and need 
hardly any protection in winter. The display 
at the annual Rose Carnival at Tacoma would 
be almost incredible to a stranger from a colder 

The ‘state flower’ is the rhododendron, which, 
with the pink-flowering currant, grows wild on the 
shores of Puget Sound. The old English favourites 
—the holly, ivy, primroses, cowslips, &.—grow 
here as in few other parts of the United States. 

No one need starve on Puget Sound. Fish 
are wonderfully plentiful and of endless variety. 
Shell-fish, such as clams, &c., can be had for the 
digging. Salmon are so numerous in the season 
that they can be caught by the merest tyro; and 
often when the fishing-boats come to the wharf 
the supply is so great that a huge salinon can 
be bought for a few cents. Cod, herring, smelts, 
soles, crabs, shrimps, &c. are caught in enormous 
quantities. The salmon are mostly packed in the 
numerous canneries and shipped abroad ; while 
the halibut, which is caught on the banks farther 
north, is sent east on refrigerator-cars, 

The capital of Washington is Olympia, a small, 
old-fashioned place on the Sound. The principal 
cities are Spokane, Seattle, and Tacoma. Spokane 
is in Eastern Washington, and is a rapidly growing 
place, with a magnificent water-power used to run 
a number of large flour-mills. It is also the 
trading-post for Rossland and other mining towns 
in British Columbia. Seattle and Tacoma are on 
Puget Sound. They have both fine harbours, and 
are rivals for the first place as shipping ports. 
Seattle is the oldest and largest, with a popula- 
tion of about sixty thousand. It has most of the 
local Sound trade as well as that to Alaska, 
Tacoma, with a population of forty thousand, is 
only about twelve years old. It has by far the 
finest harbour on the coast, and has most of the 
shipping of wheat, coal, and lumber to foreign 
countries. Both of these places are terminals for 
the transcontinental railroads, and each of them 
has distinct lines of steamers to China and Japan. 
The trade with these countries, both inward and 
outward, is an immense one, although only recently 
started. Three-fourths of the tea imported into 
the United States comes by way of Tacoma; 
while the outward cargoes, consisting mostly of 
Washington flour and canned products, Texas 
cotton, cotton cloths from Massachusetts, and 
machinery of all sorts, is always a large one. The 
harbour in Tacoma is so deep that the largest 
vessels can come up to the wharf at any tide. 
Ships are loaded and unloaded by means of 
electricity ; and it is only a matter of a few hours 
to unload the largest steamer, and, should the 
cargo be tea or silk, to put it direct upon the 
railroad cars that come up almost to the ship’s 
side, and send it to its destination across the 
continent without any delay. 

These cities are well built, with fine business 

streets, public buildings, churches, &., and . 

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHamBERS, Limited, 47 Paternoster Kow, Loxvox ; and EpinpunaH. 

beautiful homes with the loveliest gardens. The 
streets are all lighted by electricity, and electric 
cars run on all the principal streets and even 
far into the country. The public schools are 
exceptionally good, and there are several colleges. 
Tacoma has several flouring-mills, a fine floating 
graving-dock, and a large smelter for the reduc- 
tion of the ores from the neighbouring mines. 

Puget Sound is well named the ‘ Mediterranean 
of America.’ It is a beautiful piece of water, of 
immense depth, and navigable at all seasons. It 
winds its way, like a huge, branching river, 
through the most picturesque part of the state. 
The scenery is lovely: heavily timbered shores, 
numerous wooded islands, ranges of mountains on 
all sides, and above all the massive, solitary peaks 
of Mount St Helens and Mount Rainier, the 
latter raising its snow-covered head fifteen thousand 
feet above the level of the sea, and the highest 
peak in the United States. This mountain, an 
extinct volcano, is easily accessible, and is a great 
objective-point for tourists, 

Washington has no cyclones, tornadoes, nor 
thunderstorms, and its climate is most inviting. 
The advantages of the state for the tourist, the 
home-seeker, the invalid, and the capitalist are 
great; and when better known it will become 
one of the richest, most prolific, and most popu- 
lous states in the Union. 


A stoping old-world garden, whose high wall 
Shuts out from view the winding village street ; 
A cool veranda, round whose pillars tall 
Clamber convolvulus and jasmine sweet. 

A pleasant upper room looks far away 

O’er land and water, field and tower and tree, 
Across the village house-tops and the bay, 

To fair Beaumaris, Queen of Anglesey. 

The subtle fragrance of a thousand flowers 

Floats through the open window on the breeze ; 
In drowsy dalliance pass the sultry hours 

As grow the length’ning shadows of the trees ; 

And from the mill hard by the mighty wheel 

With rumbling cadence fills the air with sound— 
The groaning giant slowly grinds the meal, 

Urged by the stream to run his daily round. 

Nor does tradition leave this spot unsung ; 
The mystic Mydand, bold Llewelyn’s tower, 
Attests where princes ruled ere Edward flung 
Across the land the chains of conquering power. 

No longer gall those chains; but, hand in hand, 
Along the broadening path of freedom tread 
Two friendly nations—one united band— 
All ancient enmities for ever fled. 

Farewell, Tremynfa! peaceful scenes are thine ; 
No warriors now the Aber slopes invade, 
And up the glen naught breaks the calm divine 
Save the loud roaring of the wild cascade. 
G. A. 

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