The Wide World Magazine. An Illustrated Monthly of True Narrative - Adventure, Travel, Customs and Sport. Volume 17 1906 May-October

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sez ernest Sasea tran oh ise

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THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO LIBRARY Diatized by (OC gle

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THE WIDE WORLD : MAGAZINE AN ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY OF TRUE NARRATIVE ADVENTURE “TRUTH IS TRAVEL CUSTOMS STRANGER AND SPORT THAN FICTION” VOL. ¥VTTO /7 MAY 14 eta. a Ce), << es OCTOBER ONDON + GEORGE NEWNES, L7D. SOUTHAMPTON ST: ‘ 906 STRAND

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ALLIGATOR-FARMING ... ave aus on Illustrations from Photographs. ARCTIC, BEAR-HUNTING IN THE Illustrations by A. D. McCormick and from a Photograph. ARCTIC SEAS, THROUGH Illustrations from Photographs. BASKET-MAKERS, A VILLAGE OF Mlustrations from Phutographs. BELL-BUOY, A NIGHT ON A ‘ +e Mlustrationy by E. S. Hodgson and from Photographs. THE CHIE BOW, Illustrations by G. J. Staniland, R.1., and from Photographs and a Facsimile. BUFFALO HUNT, THE LAST Mlustrations from Photographs. CAPTAIN'S BRIDE, THE Illustrations by A. Pearse. CARSON, THE ABDUCTION OF EVA r Mlustrations by 1. Sheldon-Williams and from Photographs. CHINA, THE ‘ MECCA” OF Mlustrations from Photographs. COINCIDENCE, TILE LONG ARM OF Ilustrations by the Author. CONGO AND BACK AS AN “A.B.,” TO THE Ilustrations by the Author and fron: a Facsimile. CREEK, THE NEW HAND AT TIE Mlustrations by W. Chri Symons CRETE, AMONG INSURGENTS AND BKIGANDS IN Ilustrations from Photographs. CRIME, UNIQUE IN THE ANNALS OF Illustrations by A. Pearse and from Photographs DIRECTOR’S PERIL, THE a Illustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. DOCTOR IN THE BUSH, A... ed Illustrations by Frank P. Mahony and from Photographs. DODGE CITY, THE CONVERSION OF Illustrations by George Soper. DOWN THE RIVER ade Illustrations by W. S. Stacey and from a Photograph. DUTCH CHEESE, A DAY WITH ... 2 oes ose ae . Ilustrations from Photographs. ERBACH, THE Illustrations by R. Caton Woudville and from Photographs. EVENTFUL ENGAGEMENTS... Mlustrations by A. J. Gough and from Prstaiphe LOVE OF COUNT ws tee ae an ER. H. P. Bailey. WH. Adams. . Edmund Dugdale. A. Elphberg. Seener and Captain Woocward. Frederick A, Talbot. 328 « Ernest R. Suffling, 601 Lawrence J. Burpee. 234 S. S. Swithaine. 252 Hi. A. Hamilton. 595 Gledhill Hallas. 273 George Grantham Bain. 161 T. Cave-North, 192 Mayor W. N. Campbell. 523 R. F. Johnston, M.A., FR.G.S. 432 Julius M. Price. 286 S. Hebblethwaite. 554 H. Hargreaves. 167 Charles H. Hawes. 29, 140 His Honour Judge Prowse, K.C., LL.D. 227 Captain A. Le Keersmaecker. 447 Edward Yeates, F.R.C.S.1., L.R.C.PL. 362, 509 491 539

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INDEX. FISHING EXPERIENCES, SOME ... Hea Major A. J. Boyd, Rook Carnegie, and A. C. Bancroft. Illustrations by A. Pearse and from Photographs and a F nile, FREE-LANCE, A MODERN ... i dee sod few a M. H. de Hora. 22, ilustrations by C. La Fontaine and from a Photograph. GASPARINI MYSTERY, THE cE eee ro wis Se oe ne a. BE. St. John Hart. Mlustrations by C. J. Staniland, RL. GERMANY, MY ADVENTURE IN. Ne Illustrations by Warwick Goble and from Photographs and a Facsim GOLD-MINE, PAT RY: Mlustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. al. J. Williams, MAL L. W. A, Macarthur, F.G.S., J.P. HIGH SEAS, ON THE... H. L. Adam, D. H. Potter, H. A. Hamilton, 7. Ostens Grey, E. J. Murphy, Illustrations by E. S. Hodgson and from Photographs, Caftain C. Clark, J. H. Carpenter. 49, 107, 300, 374, HOLIDAY, MY TWO DAYS’ re wee ae wee ae Was wiP. VL Alpiser. 177, Illustrations by H. Sandham and from Photographs. KANO, ABUBEKR OF ... Con 2a w. The Rev. A. E. Richardson, D.D., CMS. Illustrations by W. Herlert Holloway. KIDNAPPING OF EDDIE BRATHWAITE, THE aa an ce ste sea, wes James King. Hlustrations by H. Sandham and from Photographs. LAVA-FLOW, A RACE WITH A_... ate, see stone 38 ee ory aoe My Rothwell. Ilustrations by A. Pearse. LOZINSKYS, THE “LUCK” OF THE ... a oa aes tee Donald Mackie. Illustrations by J. Finnemore, R.I., and {rom a Photograph and Sketch. MALEK CIIAND, THE ORDE AL OF ee eee ee A Aargreaves. Illustrations by I. Sheldon-Wi jams. MANIPUR, THE TRAGEDY OF... de vse me General H. M. Evans, C.R. Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I., and fron: Photographs. MARKEN, THE QUAINT ISLE OF os oe ais aay oo See ws Edmund Dugdale. Illustrations from Photographs. MEXICO ON HORSEBACK, ACROSS rn ss Se ao ne .. Gilson Willets. 80, 195, Hlustrations from Photographs. “MONASTERIES OF THE MID-AIR,” THE... ae af eu aes 5 E. S. Forster. Ilustrations from Photographs. MOTOR-CAR HOLD-UP, A... as tae waa ipa wee Ba fs Him, MacLeod Ratne. Mlustrations by Stanley L. Wocd and from Photographs. MOTOR-CAR HUNTING TRIP, Aw. 0. cee ee EGetor Pitt-Kethiey. Ilustrations from Photographs. ODDS AND ENDS #83 bts Aes ise From all parts of the World. 101, 204, 309, 414, 515, Illustrations from Photographs. “OLIVER TWIST,” AN AMERICAN os : sia as ae on aes Water Etiott, Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood and from a Photogra Soh: ORGAN MYSTERY, THE ab = : aes Pia ahs Se we LS. Merchant. Illustrations by Cyrus Cuneo and from a Photograph. PENTLAND, IN THE SWIRL OF THE ... ay eon) ae ot we ase we Thos. Kent. Hlustrations from Photographs. PRINCESS, MY... es one Re Bi on Pr aS ean Henry Stanicy Ward. Mlustrations by H. Sandham and from Photozraphs and Facsumiles. PUFFIN, THE ISLE OF THE one oe See. ae a con id eet A. E. Johnson. Tilustrations from Photographs. RACE, A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE ... “ ae a es oh ee ve J. O. Grege. Ilastrations by Stanley L. Wood and from a Photograph. RHODESIA, OUR “HOME FROM HOME” IN ae see te ve dlrs. Alda E. Redhead. Illustrations by I, Sheldon-Williams and from Photogr. phs. PAGE 58 135 89 502 610 419 396 65 185 Pine RS PP NaN NER WA i NO eA hd ALE Rey Ee OTT

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. SEA-SLUG, HUNTING THE GREAT ae 2 Ss abe ae ee we D. WO. Fagan. Illustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from Photog-aphs. SHARK-FISHING . oe mes on 2S ae eee ey w. DW. O. Fagan. Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.I.. and from Photographs. SIP, THE STRANGE STORY OF A LITTLE Mlustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.1., and from Photograp> SHOWING HIM ROUND Sa ve on ave oo oe See ss. James Barr. Illustrations by H. Sandham and F. G. * Matthews. SLAVE-MARKET, AN AFRICAN _... Ms aes ae oo See a we SL. Bensusan. Ilnstrations from Photographs. SMUGGLER’S PARADISE, THE... as oe Pe oe ae oe we DP. T. MeGrath. Illustrations from Photographs. SNAKE HUNT IN FLORIDA, A... as se oe wae G. R. O'Reilly. lustrations by W. Christian Symons and from a Photograph. SNOW-SLIDE, THE TRAGEDY OF A... ay aoe aes as dee v Wiliam Gervaise. Illustrations from Photographs. . E. St. John Hart. PAGE 291 347 SPORTING EXPERIENCES, SOME. Ay Sergeant Patten, G. A. Corder, F.R.G.S., aitd WC. J. Reid. 265, 315 Illustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. STURGEON FISHERS OF RUSSIA, THE Bt dateem kiRy AON gasige ye J. E. Whitby. 173 Illustrations from Photographs. SULTAN, IN THE SERVICE OF THE ... sh ioe 63 ie se Bad H. L. Adam, 221 Ilustrations by Warwick Goble and from Photographs. SURPRISE VISIT, Ao... we ee NR woe wee Ge Salis-Schwate. 590 Illustrations by W. Christian Symons and from Photographs. SUWARROW, MY ADVENTURES ON were tee DL A Mackinnon, 18 Mlustrations by Norman H. Hardy and from a Photograph. THREE SHARPS AND A FLAT 000k cette ee nee Carl Herta. 335 Ilustrations by W. S. Stacey. i .TOUR, AN INTERRUPTED ... aaa rr ao es aes Walter G. Patterson. 211 Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood and from a "Photograph. TREE, THREE IN A ... ie & a The Rev. E. L. C. Wilson, 437 Illustrations by A. Pearse and from Photographs and a Facsimile. UNTRODDEN PATHS, IN __... a ot oie ay Be: ws. Captain Fo A. Dickinson. 340, 496 Ilustrations from Photographs. WALKING-STICKS GROW, WHERE milecnaea 1 a8) ¢ es ie Oa A. Piteairn-Knowles. 544 Illustrations from Photograpt ». WELL, WHAT HAPPENED AT THE «. owe ee eens ales Maer HL. Adam. 568 Ilustrations by A. Pearse and from Photographs. ““WHALE-GUEST,” THE FESTIVAL OF THE Oe ie ea rayne ee ee Dy A. Willey. 441 Illustrations from Photographs. WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT IN BRITTANY ee ee eT: Frederic Lees. 452 Illustrations from Photographs. : WOMAN IN BLACK, THE .. .. wee eae The Reve Bo L. C2 Wilson. 74 Illustrations by George Super and from a Facsimile. WOOING, THE BARON'S. bates ae nee Sergius Volkhousky. 120 Mlustrations by R. Caton Woodville and from Photographs. “YELLOW DEVIL,” THE 0. tee ete ee CB Whalley. 548 Mlustrations by H. Sandham, GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., SOUTHAMPTON STRFET AND EXETER STREET, STRAND. W.C

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“THE HORSES, TAKING FRIGHT, TORE ALONG AT AN ACCELERATED PACE.” (SEE PAGE 4.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVII. MAY, 1906. No. 97 EVENTFUL ENGAGEMENTS. By E. B. SEENER AND Captain Woopwarb. The exigencies of their profession take those hard-worked people known as “variety artistes" into many strange and out-of-the-way places, where, at times, they meet with curious and exciting experiences which are not “in the contract.” Here are two stories—told by well-known performers—aptly illustrating the perils which sometimes menace the travelling artiste. BOUT six years ago I was engaged i with my troupe of Russian singers and dancers to appear at a place called Irbit, in Siberia. It was the ~ depth of winter, and a good portion of the journey had to be made through a wild part of the country in sledges. There were eight or nine of us in the troupe, males and females, and, of course, we had bag- gage. It was at an advanced hour of the night when we arrived at the rail-head and proceeded to transfer to the sledges which were in waiting. The cold was intense, the ther- mometer_ registering something like thirty or forty degrees of frost. Well, the start was made. The sledge in which I travelled car- tied three passengers and the driver. It is the custom to place any lady passenger in the centre, with a male on each side. It was ‘so in this instance, the lady being a girl named Doonyar. We were all heavily clothed in furs, there was plenty of hay in the sledge, and we were accommodated with pillows. The only exposed portions of our persons were our faces, and these were protected as much as pos- HOW HE WAS MR. E. It, SEENER, WHO HERE RELATES ‘ACKED BY WOLVES the way, when they are driven to desperation by hunger, that wolves will attack travellers or their horses. Even then they prefer to devote their attention to the helpless beasts of burden rather than to the more dangerous human foe. At Chelabinsk we heard some talk of wolves, some vague rumours of an attacking force— wolves, as is well known, always move in packs —and about the narrow escape of some travel- lers. All this information was apparently meant as a kindly warning to us, for the incident was supposed to have occurred upon the road which we had yet to travel. It was a somewhat superfluous warning, however, for we were well aware such a thing was possible, and were always as prepared for such an emergency as it was possible to be. It was midnight when we left Chelabinsk, skimming along at a smart pace, with the discordant jangling of the sleigh bells dinning in our ears, My revolver was in a pocket on the right of my top- coat. I felt for it, finding it safe, and dropped a word to my male companion on the left to give a thought to his. Miss Doonyar was not a nervous woman, and sible by big hoods. We wore a nee os betrayed no apprehension of thick fur gloves, and all the men nme Pie By aon: Canger ; for one thing she occu- were armed with revolvers, ready to hand, for the word “wolves” was one not infrequently heard in this region, sometimes accompanied by disturbing details of ferocious attacks upon defenceless travellers. Nothing of any moment happened on the near side of Chelabinsk beyond the sound of the distant howling of wolves—heard while passing through a forest—and the appearance in the darkness under the trees of two points of green fire—the eyes of a scouting wolf—which, however, did not venture upon an approach or attack. It is only in the depth of winter, by Vol. xvii.—t, pied a very cosy position in the sleigh, with two male “ buffers,” so to speak, to protect her from attack. Our party occupied three sleighs in all, and ours was the first away from Chelabinsk, the others following in our wake. Gradually the intense cold and the monotony of the journey began to tell upon us, and one by one we surrendered ourselves to sleep. It was not very long before I was in the land of phantasms. Then a strange thing happened. Whether it was the recent talk of wolves or not, I cannot say, but _I dreamed of wolves. How

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4 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. much time elapsed between the moment I lost consciousness of my material surroundings and the advent of my dream, I am unable to say. The most curious feature of my dream was the way in which it synchronized with actuality. I was in a sleigh, travelling through a dreary forest. I heard the far-away howling of wolves, gradually coming nearer and nearer. I saw the distant gleam of their eyes, like small points of iridescence ; then they gradually expanded. I was held captive by the vision. Nearer and yet nearer approached those gleaming orbs, until at last, with savage yelps and snarls, a pack of wolves burst out upon us! At that moment I was awakened by a sharp tug at the right sleeve of my coat, and sleepily opened my eyes—to find myself in very truth face to face with a huge grey wolf! There were the gleaming eyes, the gaping red jaws, and the lolling tongue. The animal was jumping up at me, and had caught lightly hold of my sleeve as I awoke, whereupon he turned his attention to the near-side horse. With a yell I started to my feet, thrust my hand into my pocket, drew my revolver, and fired towards the leaping wolf. As I did so, I caught sight of another on the other side of the sledge. The report of the weapon aroused the other sleepers, and my male companion, Petrovitch, taking in the situation, hastily drew his revolver and fired at the wolf on his side. At the same time Ivan, the driver, who had apparently been dozing, lashed out witi his whip at the wolves. The horses, taking fright, tore along at an accelerated pace. Neither wolf was hit, due, probably, to our hasty aim, and they both fell back to the rear of us and slunk sulkily into the shadow of the forest on the right. I looked back, but failed to observe any sign of another sledge, we having apparently out- distanced our nearest neighbour. The road or path we were on ran through a dense forest of firs and pines, and the track was marked by sign-posts at intervals beside the road, placed there by a thoughtful Government. It struck me as being somewhat strange that there should have been but two wolves, as they rarely venture upon an attack in such small numbers. True, there might have been others near at hand which we had failed to observe, and which beat a hasty retreat at the barking of our revolvers. But I did not feel altogether satisfied that we had seen the last of them; nor, apparently, did the frightened horses, for Ivan had great difficulty in holding them in. Their instinct, in fact, was keener than ours, for soon afterwards several howls caught our ears, most uncomfort- ably near. Then two significant points of light appeared in the darkness a little way ahead ; another light appearing on the right, level with the sledge, and moving along with us like a will-o’the-wisp. Yet other lights came into view farther along in quick succession, and I glanced at my male companion, who nodded grimly. Too well we knew what those gleaming eyes meant. We were about to be attacked by the whole pack! Anxiously I stood up in my seat and looked back along the track, but there was no sign of a sleigh, nor by attentive listening could I make out the sound of distant bells. We should have to bear the brunt of the onslaught alone. The horses were now getting thoroughly out of hand and were tearing along at breakneck speed. But wolves are fleet animals, and can easily overtake a horse. Presently all the lights seemed to bunch together, and with a chorus of howling and snarling the whole pack burst out upon us! They made direct for the horses, which were rendered frantic with fright. We were speeding along at a most dangerous pace, the sleigh swaying wildly from side to side, making it difficult for us to take aim with our revolvers, for we had to cling on tenaciously in order not to be violently thrown out; we also had to be circumspect in our firing for fear of hitting the horses. One of the wolves actually clambered up to the driver's seat, and Ivan struck at it fiercely with the butt-end of his whip. ‘This fellow I succeeded in putting a bullet through. At the moment I fired the sledge swayed violently to one side of the road, coming into violent contact with one of the sign- posts I have mentioned, which arrested its mad career so suddenly as to fling the vehicle upon its side, sending us all rolling among the debris, while the wolves howled and leaped around us! “ Now the end has come,” I thought, as I went flying into the snow. One of the horses—the off-side one—broke loose from the overturned sleigh and went tear- ing madly along the road. ‘This had the effect of drawing off the wolves, who promptly left us and set off in pursuit of the doomed horse. The whole thing happened with the speed of a whirlwind, and before we could realize what had occurred we found our enemies gone and our- selves lying in the snow, mixed up with hay, rugs, pillows, and coats. No one was much burt, and we were fortunately able to quiet the two remaining horses, which were uninjured. The sign-post was smashed to fragments, but the sleigh, with the exception of some bent ironwork, was undamaged. Having pulled ourselves together and righted the sleigh, we decided to await the arrival of those in the rear. They were not long in coming up, and with the assistance thus rendered

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EVENTFUL ENGAGEMENTS. 5 we were enabled to reach the next village in safety, keeping close in touch all the time. After the neces- sary repairs had been made and fresh horses procured, we proceeded on our journey, and duly arrived at Irbit without further mishap. Most people in England are well acquainted with the big circus show known as Barnum and Bailey’s, but probably few are aware that that is but one half of the whole concern, the other half, which travels through- out America, being known as Sells Brothers and Forepaugh, or, as it is shown in advertisements and upon the circus vans, etc., “Sells and 4paw” or “apaw and Sells.” The latter is the bigger half of the two, and a few years ago I travelled a great deal with them, presenting my performing seals. It was while passing through a lonely part of Texas that the incident occurred which forms the subject of this narrative, and which sur- vives with me as the most exciting experience of my career. First, then, it should be ex- plained that a circus like the one in question is a very big concern, its ‘‘ buildings ” consisting of one huge canvas tent and_ several small tents. In the former takes place the principal performance, and in the latter the side shows, exhibitions of fat women, tall and dwarf men, and so on. At the entrance to all tents are a number of wooden barriers, between which the public pass. The tickets of admission for the large tent are “1 WENT FLYING INTO THE SNOW.” CAPTAIN WOODWARD, WHO TELLS HIS EXCITING EXV'ERIENCE WITH TRAIN ROBBERS IN TEXAS. From a Photo, by Langfier, Ltd, issued from a big van close handy, and those for the small tents from pay-boxes at the sides of the . tents. In the dis- tricts of which I am writing the visits are usually of one day’s duration only, which entails a great deal of tra- velling by rail. The shows visit these parts only at one period of the year—after the cotton is picked and sold —for that is the only time that the people have any money to spendon amuse- ments. It would not, of course, pay to pitch the tent at a small town with about a thousand inhabitants, relying only upon their patronage; as a matter of fact, people flock into the town in which the show is located from various neighbouring towns and villages until one has quite a large population to draw upon. The people—farmers and their families for the most part—drive in in carts and other vehicles, making a regular holiday of it; they are a roughish lot, and have to be kept well in hand. When a show is finished the traps are all packed upand stowed in vans, the ticket van containing the safe and the takings. This business of carrying a safe becomes necessary on account of the cur- rency in the States being princi- pally silver, very little gold or paper money being in use. Therefore, a thousand pounds in silver makes a goodly pile and needs accommo- dating. The vans are placed on trucks, which have a_ kind of shallow bulwark at the sides, but are quite open at the ends. Be- sides the trucks there is a

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6 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. passenger-car for the members of the company. And thus the train is made up. The scene of my story is a small town in a lonely part of Texas. Most of the buildings in the place were of wood, and as a town it was altogether unpretentious. Sells and Forepaugh’s show was in the place for the day, with its big tent pitched, and business was booming. Ina rude wooden drinking-shanty a number of men were grouped round a small table, their heads together, talking in low, eager tones. Opposite to them was a counter, behind which presided the bar-tender, in his shirt-sleeves. One or two other customers were lounging about, but our interest is almost exclusively claimed for the group at the table. At the back of the counter, against the wall, were a number of shelves, upon which appeared bottles of various decoctions, calculated to raise the worst passions of the imbibers. Apparently they had done so in the case of those seated at the table, for their gestures and atti- tudes were significant. They were roughish- looking customers, wearing top-boots and slouc! hats, with loose, dulgy shirts ; not unlike miners. Their conversation was disjointed and somewhat scrappy, being led by a big, burly fellow, with a tanned face and black beard. He appeared to be the head of the party, with some authority, giving directions and supplying particulars. “When is it to be?” inquired one of their “* WHEN IS IT TO BE INQUIRED ONE OF THEIR NUMBER. * number, a little, undersized fellow, with a sinister cast in his eye. “To-night,” replied the big, bearded man. Then there was a pause, and all appeared to be waiting for the last speaker to continue. The big, bearded man, however, held his peace for awhile ; then, turning to the little, cross-eyed man, he gave him some instructions in an under- tone. The latter nodded his head vehemently. Near the group was a flight of wooden steps leading up to a door. Presently this door was slowly—very slowly—opened a little way, and a woman’s face appeared, listening. “Sells are always good for a pile,” the black- bearded man was saying, “and that safe of theirs holds a prize. We'll tickle its bolts to-night—one good burst, and we'll be rich. There’s no time to lose,” he concluded, abruptly ; “let’s git!” They rose from their seats. The woman dis- appeared hastily, quite unnoticed, and the door closed noiselessly. The men moved over to it and went out. About an hour later I was standing near the main entrance of the big tent of Sells’s circus, when a woman came up to me. She was old and somewhat untidily dressed, a shawl having been hurriedly thrown over her head; her face was pale, and she looked scared. “Do you belong to the circus?” she in- quired. “IT am connected with it,” I replied, not caring to accept the responsibility she was inclined to credit me with. “Then will you give that to the manager ?” she said, handing me a sealed envelope with a pencilled address ; “it isim- portant—very.” And with that she walked away. I held the mis- sive in my hand, looking after her and wondering what it was all about. However, I took it to the manager, who opened it and drew out a slip of paper, a pen- cilled note, which he read. As he did so his face

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EVENTFUL ENGAGEMENTS. 7 became serious, and he asked me, sharply : ‘Who gave you this?” I told him. “ Humph !” he remarked, and walked away, looking very thoughtful. It was some time before I discovered what the thing meant, and then I was enlightened in an unmistakable manner—namely, by the whole company being armed for defence, or all of those who were capable of using arms. It appeared that the letter I had received and handed to the manager contained a warning that our train was to be held up by one of the gangs of robbers who were known to infest the region. Their idea, of course, was to secure the contents of our safe in the usual unceremonious manner. The old woman who de- livered the note was the proprie- tress of the drinking-shanty where the gang had planned the coup and had been overheard by her. It was a small gang—they never go in large numbers, sometimes only in couples, so that the individual share of the “swag” shall be something worth having—and they had got the whole thing nicely cut-and-dried for that very night. But our manager had something to say about it, and at once com- municated with the authorities and prepared to give our assailants a very warm reception. The sheriff and his deputies, armed with re- volvers, came over to our camp and superintended our arming and preparations for defence. Then they left us and set out to attempt to locate and capture the robbers. It was the strangest journey I ever made in a train; the whole outfit simply bristled with Win- chesters. We were stationed all along the trucks, lying flat on our stomachs, our rifles, ready to hand, pointed over the sides. Some of the men were lying under the vans, some also were in the passenger-car lying down by the small, square windows. The engine- driver had strict instructions not to pull up for any waving red light; in fact, not to pull up for anything but an absolute obstruction on the line. Eventually he reported several flares in the distance, and we put fingers to triggers; a little farther, and sure enough there was the red light, waving across the track. But our engine never slackened speed, and soon we came to a big clearing and the scene of what might have been our undoing. All along the track at frequent intervals were piles of sleepers used for repairing the line. Three of these stacks of sleepers had been set on fire by the outlaws in order to give them light to work by, hence the three flares observed by us. We could plainly see the miscreants all ready to receive us, their horses tethered to trees close by. They did not seem quite able to make out why we had not stopped when they had so kindly provided a danger-signal. They shouted hoarse “THRY SHOUTED HUARSE THKRATS AND DEMANDS FOK US TO STOP.” threats and demands for us to stop, followed by a shot or two. This was the signal for action, and we replied with a rousing volley. The effect of that unexpected fusillade upon the robbers was positively ludicrous. It did us good to see them rush headlong to their horses, mount in desperate haste, and gallop away at top speed.* It must have been an eye-opener to them ! Unfortunately, I never heard whether the sheriff and his men captured the outlaws, but in any case I think they received a lesson at our hands they would not be likely to forget in a hurry.

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The Ordeal of Malek Chand. By H. HARGREAVES. A dramatic story of Indian life. Through an extraordinary combination of circumstances an unfortunate peasant was accused of the murder of his own daughter, and in spite of his protestations of innocence was condemned to death, mainly on the testimony of his wife and child. a lawyer came to the rescue. At the el.venth hour, however, The case was re-tried, the whole amazing conspiracy which had so nearly cost the hapless man his life was laid bare, and he was triumphantly acquitted. T was the month of March, and the year was 1882. The brief Indian twilight was closing in on the small hamlet of Mouzah Bhulat, in Lower Bengal, and the villagers were slowly mn fs me Ss wending their way homewards along the jungle paths. The memory of this beautiful evening in March must have lingered long afterwards in the mind of the watchman of the village, one Malek Chand, by reason of the contrast it afforded to the tragic and mystifying catastrophe that was even then impending over his head. This Malek Chand was a young and stalwart peasant. As he came along the path that evening he wore on his head a yellow turban, while around his waist was the distinguishing belt of his office of chowkidar (watchman). It was his duty to go round the village each night, to see that everything was in due order. He “was a good-hearted, kindly man, with a great affection for his four children and his wife, Bharati. One of his children, a sweet little ten-year-old girl named Nekjan, was walking behind him, happily trilling an old, familiar Bengali folk-song. Upon her bare, swarthy shoulder she carried a khatia, a long, heavy wooden implement, which was used as a pestle in the work of pounding rice in a stone mortar. The little Hindu maid had adorned her graceful and shapely arms with several simple bangles of glass, and her thrice-braided jet-black hair was surmounted by a crimson and green cotton handkerchief. “ Baba,” said the child, presently, “why are you so quiet to-night ?” “Why, dear,” responded Malek, suddenly aroused from his unpleasant reverie, “ Baba is worried !” “Worried?” echoed Nekjan ; “about what?” “ About something you would not understand, Nekjan—about our neighbour, Kadam Ali Fakir, and his wife Sarba, and others who seek to do me injury. ‘They are all bad people, and tell lies about me.” “Yes; I have heard about them,” gravely observed Nekjan; and then, brightening up, she exclaimed, “ But who believes ? I do not for one, Baba!” At that moment three persons were seen to be approaching along the path, and little Nekjan called her father’s attention to them. ‘he latter lifted his eyes, and as they rested upon the advancing trio a frown overspread his counten- ance, and his hand instinctively closed tighter upon the staff he carried. The three persons who had thus aroused the watcnman’s resent- ment were respectively the neighbour already referred to, Kadam Ali Fakir, his wife Sarba, and Dwarka Rai, the village constable. Sarba, a young peasant woman of handsome features and bold appearance, was conversing earnestly with the constable, and as the group came up with Malek she cast him a glance of unflinching scorn, which her husband supplemented with an angry scowl. The constable wheeled round. “Mind you have plenty of money with you to-morrow, Malek,” he exclaimed; “you will need it.” At this Malek became very angry. his persecutors with — flaming Facing eyes, he + responded :— “And mind you keep your tongues from lying, and Kadam Ali his bull from wandering on to my premises of a night, or mischief will be done!” With this exchange of angry words the disputants went their opposite ways. What was the cause of this ill-feeling towards Malek Chand? The poor chowkidar had had the misfortune—as it subsequently proved—to win a trivial action at law against the aforesaid Kadam Ali Fakir. Since then his life had been made a burden to him by systematic and petty annoyances on the part of his neighbour and his estimable wife, with others whom they con- trived to enlist under their banner. This woman Sarbe. was a vain and evil person ; and, in order

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THE ORDEAL OF MALEK CHAND. 9 to sow dissension between Malek and his wife, made a show of what is called “setting her cap” at Malek. He, however, was too sensible a man to take any serious notice of her allure- ments. But, alas! for him, he could not stop malicious tongues from wagging nor) the worst of mis- — chief accruing. Among other things, his ami- able neighbours, Kadam Ali Fakir and his wife, trumped up a charge of assault, alleged to have been committed by Malek upon the occasion of a visit to the cot- tage of Kadam Ali, during which he angrily re- monstrated with his neighbour for his mischievous behaviour. The action was to be heard on the morrow, the complaint having been laid at the town of Bon- gong. Doubtless, as in so many native cases, falsehood would supply the place of absent fact, and the unfortu- nate watchman expected to be somewhat heavily fined — hence the —_constable’s 1 gibe, “Mind you have plenty of money with you.” As matters transpired, however, the action was destined never to be heard, being thrust out of all consideration by an event of immeasurably graver import. While the above altercation was in progress, Dhanbani, Malek’s cow, had wandered on to her fodder and her calf in the compound of Malek’s cottage. A little farther along the lane, near the temple of Shiva, Malek encountered a neighbour named Umesh Ghazi, and engaged in earnest conversation with him on the subject of the case to be heard on the morrow. Having Vol. xvii.—2. “AND MIND YOU KEEP YOUR TONGUE FROM LYING.” bade adieu to this man, one of the few neigh- bours who were friendly towards him, Malek saw his wife, Bharati, near the corner of an onion-field, close by his cottage. With her was her child Golak Mani, a little girl about two years the junior of Nekjan, and across her left hip she held an- other infant. Malek greeted his daughter, Golak Mani, affectionately, taking her up in his arms and caressing her. Curiously enough, and sig- nificant in the light of subse- quent events, the child made no response to her father’s endear- ments, nor seemed to wel- come them. The wife, Bharati, was a_ middle- aged woman, of a surly and morose disposi- tion, and the child, Golak Mani, took after her. Bharati’s welcome to her dispirited — hus- band took the form of angry remarks concern- ing Sarba, clearly indicating the jealous bent of her mind. Malek’s reply was to entreat her not to pester him with the names of any of that “nest of liars,” and a request to her to prepare the evening meal. Meanwhile little Nekjan had gone ahead to the cottage, and placed the wooden pestle she had been carrying against the wall of the cot- tage under the veranda. As Malek entered the cottage he brushed against the pestle, causing it to fall, and as it did so it struck the glass bangles on Nekjan’s arm, breaking them. Immediately Bharati set up a lamentation, be- wailing the ill-luck that would ensue in conse- quence of this mishap, her mind being steeped

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to THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. in superstition. But little Nekjan made light of it, and, kissing her father’s knee to avert the it] omen, went indoors to prepare the cooking utensils. : Then Malek informed his wife that she would have to travel to his brother's house at Goga that night, in order to borrow the money where- with to pay the expected fine on the morrow, as he had not sufficient. Bharati would have to walk, and the journey would take about half an hour. She was to sleep at her brother-in-law’s and return home in the early dawn. All things considered, it was a peaceful meal the little family of Malek Chand sat down to that evening, with the steaming rice and hot chupattis sending forth a pleasant odour. The calm of approaching night, the joy of sitting restfully with his beloved children around him, and listening to the glad music of the sweet little Nekjan’s laughter, drove for the nonce all trouble from the mind of the watchman of Mouzah Bhulat. Even his ill-conditioned wite observed a truce before the simple but solemn words of the evening prayer for protection from evil which arose appealingly from the lips of Malek. Little did the watchman dream how soon he would be in sore need of it! The meal concluded, Bharati, not without much grumbling, gathered her garments about her, took the infant to her breast, clasped another young child by the hand, and set forth upon her journey. This left at the cottage only Malek and his daughters Nekjan and Golak Mani. It was the custom, during that hot period of the year, for the villagers to sleep in the open air, upon the verandas of the houses, where, wrapped in white chudders or black wool blankets, they reclined upon sleeping mats made of plaited palm-leaves. As the fast-sinking moon was casting a faint gleam across the compound, therefore, Malek and his two children prepared themselves for the night’s repose. Malek paid his customary good-night visit to the cow-shed to see that all was secure, and then retired to his sleeping- mat in the veranda, lying down between his two children. Thus peace and rest descended upon the little village of Mouzah Bhulat, in Lower Bengal, on that memorable March night of the year 1882. Not a sound broke the all-pervading stillness save the occasional howl of a jackal and the whisper of the breeze as it played lightly about the tree-tops. There was no hint of the grim and mysterious tragedy so near at hand. The light of dawning day was yet but a ghostly vapour when a near neighbour of Malek’s, rising betimes to attend to some early duties, thought she heard a cry of distress. She paused in her occupation and_ listened. Yes; there it was again, sure enough—a sob of grief, a moan of anguish. What could it mean? She determined to make inquiries, so, taking a lamp in her hand, she walked a few yards from her house and listened again. The cry was repeated, and moving on in the direc- tion whence it came she found herse:f at the hut of Malek Chand. Sitting upon the step of the veranda of Malek’s house the woman saw the watchman himself, his head buried in his folded arms. He was rocking violently to and fro, and moaning distractedly. By this time other neighbours had been disturbed by his loud lamentations, and now came hurrying to the spot, some carrying lights. Among these arrivals were Umesh Ghazi and his wife, Dhiru Bibi, a sister of Bharati, Malek’s wife. Clamorously they questioned the watchman as to the cause of his grief, and he then revealed the tragic fact that his beloved daughter, Nekjan, lay dead upon the veranda! At this announcement there arose a cry of horror, and several of the neighbours made their way on to the veranda, where the light of the lamps fell upon the figure of poor little Nekjan—stone-dead. While they were chattering together excitedly, all asking questions at once, there arrived at the hut a grave, elderly villager named Uma Charan Sirkar, a member of the punchavet (village council), for whom the others made respectful way. Having learned what had happened, he proceeded to examine the body of Nekjan. He found at the base of the ribs a small punctured wound, bloodless, and with compressed edges. He questioned Malek as to what had caused the child’s death, and the watchman wailed forth that he knew nothing save that he had gone into the onion-field for a few minutes, and upon his return had found his daughter lying dead as they saw her now. The puzzled councillor suggested that a snake-bite had worked the mischief, and Malek agreed that there had been some talk about the presence of cobras near the cottage. The villagers at once accepted this version of the affair as being most probable, and Uma Charan, hastily inspecting the immediate surroundings of the veranda, came upon several snake-holes near the wall. He thereupon directed that a mattock and basket be fetched, and the clay floor of the veranda dug up. This was done, but no snakes were discovered. Up to this time, in spite of all the noise, the other child, Golak Mani, had remained asleep, or apparently asleep. The sound of the digging, however, aroused her, and she fell to sobbing at the sight of her dead sister.

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THE ORDEAL OF “HE PROCEEDED TO EXAMINE THE BODY OF NEKJAN.” The councillor now advised Malek to pro- ceed at once to the police-station and report the occurrence himself, and directed that a spear found near the cow-path should be taken care of. This weapon was one that Malek was in the habit of taking with him on his nightly rounds, and played a very important part in subsequent events. Before Bharati had returned from Goga the distracted Malek set forth for the police-station, where he found the inspector, one _Cholan Rahman, a fairly upright man, who had friendly feelings towards Malek. The latter told his tale, giving the so far accepted version of snake-bite, but supplementing it with a_half- hearted suggestion that the child’s death might have been the work of his enemy, Kadam Ali, so that it might reflect upon him, Malek. The MALEK CHAND. II inspector very wisely advised his neighbour not to entertain that notion, but to adhere to the snake-bite theory, and then instructed his head con- stable to proceed to the watchman’s house to report upon the case, telling him not to accept money from Malek, as he knew him to be a poor man. This constable’s name was Ram Das Sircar, and, instead of at once taking up the matter, he did not put in an appearance at the watchman’s hut until sun- down! Probably a good deal of interest in the case, so far as he was concerned, departed when his superior put his veto on bribery. Moreover, he soon after washed his hands entirely of the affair, trans- ferring the business to his covetous subordinate, Dwarka Rai, reference to whom has already been made. In the meantime Malek had returned home to find his wife - there, full of bitter reproaches for her unfortunate spouse. Eventually, half-crazed with grief, she retired to her mother’s house close by, taking Golak Mani with her. ‘This was-on-Tuesday, March 28th. The reader should take careful note of these dates. On Wednesday, the 29th, there was more digging for possible snakes, but none were found. On this day, also, the body of the deceased child was conveyed to Bongong, ‘there to have a post- mortem examination made upon it by the Civil Hospital assistant. Malek accompanied the body. This local medico, after a perfunctory examination, reported in effect as follows. The child died, not from snake-bite, but from the thrust of a spear in the body, an injury that might very well have been caused by the weapon found near the cow-path of Malek’s house ! This medical pronouncement spread con- sternation far and wide, and led to the most serious issues. Firstly, it upset the theory of snake-bite, which the police themselves had been content to accept; and, secondly, it set the village gossips (of Moyzah>Bhulat indus- triously wagging their tongues. During the

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12> THE WIDE WORLD irresponsible babble the names of Sarba and Kadam Ali were too frequently heard to bode any good for the watchman. The first practical result was an immediate 70/te-face movement on the part of the police. The snake-bite business would not serve any longer, so they dropped it and fixed on the spear, and simultaneously on the unfortunate watchman, whom they promptly arrested. Malek, however, was what the police usually call an obstinate prisoner—he would not confess his crime, but stoutly maintained his innocence, persistently asserting his ignorance as to how his child’s death was caused. ‘This was irritating to the police, who much wanted to make their new case manifest, so they pro- ceeded to try and quicken the prisoner’s memory by thrusting large thorns into the quick of his fingernails and toe-nails. But the obstinate fellow suffered in silence. On Thursday, the 30th, a bombshell fell upon “BHARATI ACCUSED HER HUSBAND OF THE MURDER OF THEIR CHILD.” MAGAZINE. the hapless head of the watchman, for upon that day, at her own house and in the presence of the police, Bharati accused her husband of the murder of their child, and in support of her charge produced Golak Mani as an eye-witness ! It appeared that the child, who had so far remained silent, suddenly declared that she had awakened to find her father in the act of killing her sister, stabbing her with a spear, and with his foot upon her neck. When she remon- strated with him, she asserted, he told her to put the blame on Kadam Ali. After this amazing disclosure Malek was hauled ignominiously off to prison again, and duly committed to take his trial for murder. ‘The luckless watchman was securely within the toils, and injustice, malice, perjury, and insane jealousy were hourly dragging him nearer to the gallows. In prison he maintained an almost unbroken silence, occasionally maintaining his innocence by means of proverbs, in the way of the Bengali. “The mud will not stick to the pankal-fish,” he said, again and again. This may be paraphrased as, “Guilt will not adhere to the innocent.” ‘The statement, how- ever, is not invariably correct, and his philosophy nearly cost’ Malek his life. On May 16th, 1882, at the Nuddea Sessions Court, before Mr. Justice Dickens, the perplexing case of “The Empress v. Malek Chand, chowkidar,” came on for hearing, on committal by the deputy-magistrate of Bongong. It was a sweltering hot day, and the punkahs in the court - house were kept moving continually. Malek Chand, strangely calm and collected in manner, stood between two native constables, eyeing the jury of his fellow-countrymen. As . the details of a criminal trial in India are much the same as in England, I will touch only upon the salient features which bear directly upon my story. The prisoner, being a poor man, was not represented by counsel, therefore the evidence for the pro- secution went practically unchal- lenged. The first witness was little Golak Mani, who mounted the platform and stood undismayed by the impressive assembly before her. It should be borne in mind that an.-Indian child) cin (precocity and

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THE ORDEAL OF MALEK CHAND. 13 mental equanimity, is the equal of a child twice her age in the West. ‘The fore- man of the jury first took her in hand, and subjected her to an exhaustive in- terrogatory on the all- important subject of false- hood and its consequences. Golak Mani satisfied all present that she was quite alive to the necessity of telling the truth. She then gave her evidence, to the effect which has already been described, and did so unflinchingly. At the conclusion of her testi- mony there ensued an impressive and __ painful silence, which was rudely broken by the clear, re- sonant voice of the prisoner. “Golak Mani,” he said, sadly, “who has taught you to speak these lying words ?” He fixed his piercing brown eyes upon the child who was swearing away the life of her father, but she met his gaze boldly, reply- ing composedly :— “No one has taught me, Laba ; it is the truth which I have told to the Pre sence.” Then she retired from the platform. Next came the police evidence, and this was followed by the dramatic appearance upon the witness-platform of Bharati, the hard-featured wife of the accused. She simply bore out the statement of Golak Mani. It is known to the reader, but was not known to the Court, and could only have been demonstrated by counsel for the defence, that neither Bharati nor Golak Mani had made any sort of incriminating state- ment until the Thursday following the day of the death. Had this been brought out it would have very materially discounted the value of such evidence, if it did not destroy it altogether. Bharati’s evidence was followed by that of several neighbouring villagers, of no great im- portance. This gave place to the illuminating evidence of the medical experts. The per- functory examination of the native medico was in its essentials corroborated by the European doctor. He gave as a reason for the almost ““*GOLAK MANI,’ HE SAID, SADLY, ‘WHO HAS TAUGHT YOU TO SPEAK THESE LYING WorDS?'” total absence of blood from the wound that death was partly caused by strangulation, which would materially reduce bleeding, particularly external bleeding. This went to confirm the evidence for the prosecution, which it also con- cluded. Then followed an interrogatory of the prisoner by the judge—peculiar to the criminal law of India—during which Malek stoutly main- tained his innocence. The prisoner called three witnesses for the defence, but their statements were very weak, and all they could testify to was the fact, not disputed, that a report of death by snake- bite was current in the village. Then the judge summed-up. He began by making an assertion—and the whole of his subsequent lengthy argument was in establishment of that assertion—that the deceased was murdered. This shut out any other theory, including, as it turned out, the correct one. The jury at once

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14 THE WIDE WORLD brought in a verdict of “Guilty,” and the judge proceeded to sentence the prisoner to be hanged. It was late in the afternoon, and the purple shadows were creeping across the rice-tields. A painful silence reigned in the court. The prisoner seemed stunned with the result of the trial, which must have appeared a cruel blow to his proverbial philosophy. His large, eloquent eyes roved round the apartment in a vain search for a look of sympathy, for the crime of which he stood con- victed was one abhorrent in the eyes of even the least law-abiding. He had been tried by a jury of his own countrymen and found guilty, the testi- mony of his own kith and kin had encompassed his doom, his neighbours had plotted to destroy him, and the _ terrible English judge had denounced him. He was alone with Allah, and no doubt the words of the Koran occurred to him then with tremendous force: “There is but one Judge who is just.” With an effort he drew himself up to his full height, and in his simple majesty dominated the whole assembly. Clear- ing his throat, he ad- dressed the judge, and these were the words of Malek Chand, the humble chowkidar — of Mouzah Bhulat: “I humbly pray the Presence to order me to be hanged in my own village, hecause there will be people there who will well know that I die unjustly executed for a crime which I did not commit and could never have committed.” Then the prisoner was removed. Curiously enough, although there is no C iminal Court of Appeal in England, there 1s a form of appeal available in India—to the merciful consideration of the High Court. But the appeal must be made within seven days from condemnation, and who would thus move on behalf of Malek? The sands were falling fast, and if he were to be saved from a shameful a “OME ADDRESSED THE JUDGE, ‘1 HUMMILY PRAY THE PRESENCE VO ORDER ME TO WE HANGED IN MY OWN VILLAGE.” MAGAZINE. death it was necessary that measures should be taken on the instant. His wife was seen on the subject, but that dutiful and affectionate creature is reported to have observed :— “I am not going back upon what is done. Let him hang! It was written upon his fore- head, and is no more than he has well deserved for his ill deeds.” Fortunately for British justice in India and for the hapless Malek Chand, a Calcutta lawyer named Manomahan Ghose became acquain- ted with the details of the case, and, in the light of his superior knowledge of native character, saw the glaring discrepancies and misconceptions con- tained in it, and the utter absence of motive for the crime. He voluntarily took up the case on be- half of Malek Chand. He drew up a clear and concise analysis of all the evidence, and made a powerful appeal in the High Court of Calcutta on June 13th, 1882, be fore Justices Wilson and Macpherson, notice of the appeal having previ- ously been lodged. The net result of this was that the sentence of death was set aside and a new triai ordered. The second trial took place on the 21st July and three succeeding days at the Alipur Sessions Court. In the meantime Mr. Ghose had several inter views with Malek Chand and strenuously endeavoured to induce him to reveal all he knew, and so make the course of his counsel clearer. But the watchman obstinately refused to speak, merely repeating the irritating formula he had used so often, “I know nothing.” Of one thing Mr. Ghose felt quite sure, and that was that the child did not die from the wound in the body, in view of the absence of blood, but that this incision, however it was done, was made after death. He conveyed this impression to the prisoner, whereupon Malek’s eyes lighte! up, and he observed that as so much was known he would admit that the wound zeas made after death. He appeared somewhat relieved at being

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THE ORDEAL OF able to confess so much, but, pressed to make further revelations, he became reticent again and . would say nothing. Thus, although Mr. Ghose felt convinced that his client was not the murderer of the child, he was yet in ignorance as to how the death had been brought about. He therefore set himself to the task of crushing the evidence which had been put forward for the prosecution, and so procuring an acquittal of the prisoner in the absence of sufficient proof. More than this he could not do, in view of his client’s silence—a silence which would have made the majority of advocates throw up the defence in despair. But right well did Mr. Ghose tackle his self-imposed mission. At the trial he fixed upon the many glaring discrepancies in the testimony of the wit- nesses, and dealt very severely with the witnesses themselves. As a consequence much of the evi- dence completely collapsed. It was proved that the wound on the deceased’s body had actually been tampered with by the police, it having been enlarged with a twig of the wild indigo! © Directly this was discovered the police them- selves assumed a decidedly suspicious air of ignorance. The medical evidence, too, was almost entirely negatived, the native doctor admitting the perfunctory nature of his autopsy. The evidence of the digging in the watchman’s veranda for snakes, which in the first trial had only been lightly touched upon, was brought out, and, most important of all, the extraordinary lapse of time between the discovery of the child's body and the public accusation by the wife and child was made clear. The two most important witnesses—Bharati and Golak Mani— were subjected to a severe cross-examination, and, although they adhered in the main to their story, it was made quite manifest that the child had been well tutored and was repeating her evidence parrot-fashion. When questions were put to her on fresh topics by Mr. Ghose she hesitated a good deal before replying, and evinced an unmistakable desire to consult somebody else. This was not lost upon the judge, Mr. Justice Brett. Asa last despairing blow at the unfortunate chowkidar, the prosecution put the bold-faced Sarba in the box. With uncompromis- ing effrontery and with her hand upon the Koran she repeated the story that was current in her village concerning the murder. But the expe- rienced Calcutta lawyer turned this incident to good account. Skilfully he drew from the unwilling lips of Kadam Ali’s wife an admission of the ill-feeling which existed towards the prisoner prior to this case in consequence of his success in the aforementioned law action. This, too, was not without its effect upon the minds of both judge and jury. Finally, when MALEK CHAND. 15 all the available evidence had been adduced, the Government pleader was called upon to address the jury, which he did in a somewhat brief and hal.-hearted manner. Then came Mr. Ghose’s opportunity. He delivered a mas- terly speech, in which the unsatisfactory and altogether unretiable nature of the evidence for the prosecution was brought home to the minds of the jury with overwhelming force and logic. This was followed by an address by Mr. Justice Brett. His analysis was unsparing ; it hinted at so much doubt, mendacity, and dissimulation as to leave the issue of the trial a matter for simple forecast. In fact, when he had finished, the jury took only a minute to arrive at a unanimous verdict of “ Not guilty.” It was the fall of the evening of the 24th July, 1882, when Malek Chand walked forth from prison a free man, side by side with his deliverer, Manomahan Ghose. They were bound for the bungalow of the latter. Malek walked with elastic step, and his eyes gleamed with joy born of his newly-emancipated mind. For him his restored liberty was a priceless gift, and the air thit greeted his nostrils was sweet indeed. Think of the feelings of this simple- minded peasant, snatched from the very brink of the grave after months of dreary captivity in prison! Malek’s lightness of heart was shared also by the lawyer, for he had won a notable victory, saved a fellow-creature’s life, and pre- vented a terrible miscarriage of justice. The next morning Mr. Ghose, looking out of his bungalow, observed the figures of a woman and a girl standing by a shaddock bush in the compound. ‘The woman's head was bent in grief and self-abasement, and the child’s slight frame was convulsed with sobbing. ‘They were Bharati and Golak Mani, come for the forgive- ness of the man whose life they had nearly sworn away. Mr. Ghose realized the situation, and acted with promptitude. Turning to Malek, he said :— “Malek, your wife and child are outside. Will you see them ?” The man seemed to be seized with a revulsion of feeling. “No, not now; I cannot,” he said. ‘“ Don’t ask me!” He covered his face with his hands and collapsed into a seat. Mr. Ghose did not pursue the subject, but slowly and sadly made his way into the compound. The woman kept “her eyes averted and her head bent down, but the child, with tear-stained face, looked appealinyly towards the barrister. He beckoned her to come to him, and the child obeyed. The interview that ensued was a strange and a painful one.

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16 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Did you see your father kill your sister?” asked the lawyer, sternly. “No,” sobbed the child, as she clutched con- vulsively to the hem of her garment, and her whole body trembled with emotion. ‘I was asleep, and saw nothing !” “Yet you swore before the great judge that you saw your father commit the deed,” con- tinued Mr. Ghose. At this there was a fresh paroxysm of grief on the part of the child, whose suffering was pitiable to behold. Between her sobs she ex- plained how she had been commanded by the constable, Dwarka, to tell the tale she did. He held a sword in his hand, she said, and told her she would have her head cut off with it if she disobeyed. She was supported in this by her mother, who had been partly deceived by the police, they having fabricated for her benefit an alleged confession of the prisoner. Bharati’s hatred was also kept aflame by her unreasoning “ALL THROUGH THE INTERVIEW BHARATI STOOD APAKT WITH BOWED HEAD, EVIDENTLY SUFFERING KEENLY.” jealousy of her good-looking neighbour Sarba— a sentiment, needless to say, which was sedulously nursed by Malek’s enemies. All through the interview Bharati stood apart with bowed head, evidently suffering keenly. When at length the sobbing child rejoined her mother the two moved slowly away, and dis- appeared behind the shaddock bush. They were paying for their sin a hundredfold. The mystery was gradually being elucidated, but it yet remained to be made known how poor Nekjan met her death. Mr. Ghose very much desired to clear this up, and after the departure of Bharati and Golak Mani he tackled Malek earnestly on the subject. ‘The watchman seemed very suspicious and timid, so Mr. Ghose im- pressed upon him the fact that, having been acquitted, the law could not now harm him, even if he had actually committed the deed. “You have nothing to fear,” concluded Ghose ; “ therefore tell me how your child died.” It was clear that Malek Chand was reluctant to reveal the secret, although at the same time it was obvious that he did not wish to deceive the man who had saved his life. Finally, he succumbed to the persuasions of Mr. Ghose and, prostrating himself at the feet of his benefactor, made con- fession to the following effect :— On the night of his child’s death he had lain down with the determination fixed in his mind that, should the bull of Kadam Ali be found by him upon his premises that night, he would deal roughly with it. He accordingly placed the large, heavy piece of wood called a hatia, used in the tice mortar, against the wall of his cottage, as a weapon ready to his hand. About two in the morning he awoke with, as he thought, the sound of footsteps in his ears. He listened a few moments, and heard sounds coming from the direction of the vegetable patch between the wall of the cottage and the cow-sheds. At once he jumped to the conclusion that it was Kadam Ali’s bull, root- ing about his vegetables. It was a dark and cloudy night,

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THE ORDEAL OF MALEK CHAND. 17 and he could not see far from the veranda, but he snatched up the heavy 4katia and hurled it with all his force in the direction of the cow-sheds. Immediately after he heard a cry of pain, and an exclamation, “Oh, Allah!” Alarmed, he ran out to the vegetable patch, where he saw his child, Nekjan, writhing on the ground! Instantly he realized what had happened. The child had wandered out in the night, and it was her footsteps he had heard. He had struck her in the back with the heavy implement, and she was dying! Tenderly he lifted her from the ground and bore her to the veranda, where she soon after expired. Malek was beside him- self with grief, and was on the point cf hastening to the neigh- bouring river to cast himself in and commit suicide when it occurred to him that he might first seek the advice of his friendly neigh- bour, Umesh Ghazi. Accordingly, he hastened to the latter’s cottage and, having quietly aroused him, acquainted him with what had happened and besought him to give him advice. ‘The neighbour proceeded to Malek’s cottage and examined the body of Nekjan. He then advised Malek to attribute the death to Kadam Ali, but this Malek would not hear of. It is typical of the native character that it does not seem to have occurred to either man to tell the truth concern- ing the accident ; possibly they thought such a story would not be believed for an instant, in view of the many enemies Malek had in the village. After one or two other suggestions had been proposed and rejected, Umesh Ghazi declared that the sad affair must be reported as snake-bite. But, objected Malek, there was no wound; when a snake bites he leaves a wound. Umesh Ghazi then volunteered to make a wound in imitation of a snake-bite, and returned to his cottage to fetch a knife. It is a belief in certain parts of India that when a venomous snake bites a human being in a vital part of the body the victim at once loses con- sciousness ; therefore Umesh Ghazi made a tiny punctured wound just below the ribs. Having done this he returned to his cottage, only Vol. xvii—3, “WE SNATCHED UP THE HEAVY ‘KHATIA’ AND HURLED IT WITH ALL HIS FORCE !N THE DIRECTION OF THE COW-SHEDS.” reappearing when the general alarm was given. As for Malek, he sat down on the veranda, where he was subsequently found, and gave way to his grief. Up to that time the other child, Golak Mani, had not awakened Thus was the mystery at last cleared up. Poor Nekjan had met her death by misadven- ture, and not by foul murder. Malek, during his confession, protested with tears in his eyes that he would willingly have forfeited his own life to save that of his beloved one. As to whether Malek Chand was ever recon- ciled to his wife, the records do not concern themselves. In view of the great love he bore his offspring, however, albeit the “ Light of his eyes,” as he called Nekjan, had departed hence, it is highly probable that he was after a while impelled towards forgiveness, when Time the healer had somewhat softened the anguish of the terrible ordeal through which he had passed.

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My Adventures on Suwarrow. By D. H. Mackinnon. The South Sea trader is a favourite character in fiction. Here is a glimpse of his life as it really is —the experiences of a solitary white overseer on the remote island of Suwarrow. f AVING just recovered from a serious illness —the result of hardships en- countered on a trip in the South Pacific—I was beginning to think it was time:to replenish my exhausted In Sydney, however, where I then exchequer. was, there was no occupation | was fit for after my wanderings. I determined, therefore, to make a round of the different South Pacific trading firms, and called first on Messrs. Burns, Philip, and Co., of Sydney. I found they had no use for my services just then, and was leaving their offices feeling rather down-hearted, when I ran into the arms of my late genial supercargo, Clarke, who offered me a billet as overseer in charge of the island of Suwarrow. I took it. The next few days we were busy taking in stores, and then off I started in the good old Kelloe, en route for Suwarrow, vid Manahiki, where we picked up my divers and their families. Before I left Sydney 1 did not hear much to recommend Suwarrow to me, so many white overseers in the past having come to an untimely end. In one case, I was told, three were found to have been treacherously knocked on the head and thrown into the lagoon, two more had gone mad, and since then the islind had been for some years in the charge of a native. Alto- gether it was not a very lively pro- spect, but I was not easily daunted, although I did not expect such an exciting time as fell to my lot, as the sequel will show. I landed at Suwarrow after a six weeks’ cruise. I had under my charge about twelve native divers, most of them from Pen- thyn and Manahiki Islands, those from the former being a quarrelsome lot. I was, of course, the only white man on the island, and had to see that the men did their proper share of diving for pearl shell, which abounds in those waters. When the weather would not permit of the diving, there was plenty to do planting cocoanuts, looking after the young trees, and catching fish and birds for daily consumption. It was a curious life, and after the first week or two I got accustomed to the monotony and became interested in my work. From a Pheto. by E THE AUTHOR, MR, D. H. MACK on- Tyne. The natives — “boys,” as they are always called could work well enough when they chose, and things had been going very smoothly for some months, when once or twice I noticed a slight murmur of dissent or disapproval when I gave an order which did not suit them. I took no notice, but could, I felt sure, trace the originator of the grumbling. It was Tiata, one of the boys from Penrhyn. He was a big, powerful man, handsome in his way, and had rather a massive head, with a tremendous amount of blue-black hair. His black eyes flashed and gleamed with resentment whenever I spoke to him; he had taken a dis- like to me from the first. Why, I do not know, unless it was because 1 showed not the smallest fear of him ; in fact, directly 1 saw that he was inclined to shirk his work I was always very sharp on him. One day about eight of the boys had been out for several hours diving. I must explain that the shell they dived for was like a huge oyster -shell — valuable chiefly for the “mother-of-pearl,” though an occasional pearl was to be found. ‘This shell lay at the bottom of the sea, and when brought to the surface by the diver had to be opened and the fish taken out and thrown back again immediately into the water. This was a very important matter, as when we threw the fish back at once it spawned again and the quantity of shell was not perma- nently reduced. I had had a little trouble with the boys once or twice in seeing that this was carried out, as they were very fond of eating the fish, but 1 hoped that at last they had come to regard the order as a necessity. However, on this particular day the mutiny came to a head. I was on the little jetty waiting for the return of the divers. I had been trying to spear some fish, and carried a long fish-spear in my hand. The boat came up, and the first to step ashore was ‘Tiata. He came on with an air of fierce defiance, holding in his hand a pail of the fish, which the men had been expressly for- bidden to keep. The other boys kept a little way behind their leader. I did not advance, but stood waiting for them all to come up;

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MY ADVENTURES ON SUWARROW. 19 then, pointing to the pail of shell-fish, I said: “What do you mean by bringing back those fish?” Tiata, who was spokesman, set the pail down in front of him, and, tossing his head, said defiantly: “ We not go hungry for white man ; white. man’s orders no good.” The fellow’s insolent words and attitude of contempt infuriated me. Without a word I stepped forward, took up the pail of fish, and threw the lot over the jetty into the water. This was the signal for a general onrush. Tiata yelled out in a rage. “Kill the white man !” he screeched. “ Kill the white man, who would starve us and our children !” I took a few steps back and, picking up my fish-spear, kept them at bay with its butt. For about ten minutes we fought in this manner, the men doing their best to grapple with me, while I beat them off with the spear. The jetty was narrow, and I managed not to let any of them get behind me, but it was hard work, for they were wild with rage and very agile, and I knew I was fighting for my life. “PICKING UP MY FISH-SPEAR, 1 KEPT THEM AT BAY WITH [TS KUTT.” T had contrived to incapacitate four of them, and was beginning to feel rather done, when by a lucky hit I landed Tiata a crack across the face which made his nose bleed profusely and, I believe, knocked some of his teeth down his throat. He was stunned by the blow and, falling down, lay senseless for a few minutes. Seeing their leader so overcome, those of the mutineers who were left uninjured fell back. Evidently they began to think it was time to bring hostilities to an end. I seized the opportunity to retreat to my little cottage or hut, which was about a couple of hundred yards off. When I got safely inside I barred the door, and sat down, panting, to review the situation. I had had a most unpleasant quarter of an hour and did not relish my position at all, for I felt sure if ‘Tiata got the chance he would kill me in cold blood. I had no weapons beyond my fish-spear and one or two old swords which I kept as curiosities. The only thing I could do was to remain in the hut, hoping the trouble would blow over. During the mélée Tiata had thrown a small axe at me, cutting the side of my head, which was by this time aching like fury, but I could not rest unless I felt fairly secure against another on- slaught. I accordingly barred and barricaded the door as strongly as I could, and the windows of my hut, being like the port-holes of a ship, were not difficult to stop up. I knew the boys had no weapons and would probably leave me alone until the next day, by which time they would have recovered from the effects of the butt-end of my spear, and also have had a “korero,” or council, so they would not be ready for me till the morning. In the meantime 1 would rest and recoup my strength for whatever the next day might bring forth. Although I felt sure when I lay down that I should never be able to sleep under the existing conditions, I must very quickly have dropped off, for the next thing I remembered was being awakened by a curious sort of scratching noise, At first I did not recollect my afternoon’s ad- venture, but after a few minutes T recalled everything, and, getting up, I_ made my_way to where I thought the scratching noise came

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20 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. from. It was most certainly at one of the windows. What could it be? Ina few minutes I caught the sound of a whisper, and listening at one of the windows I heard these word “Meitaki, Mackie; Moieau talaga” (“It is well, Mackie ; Moicau speaks ”). Moieau was one of the boys who had always been tractable, and when I discovered it was really he I let him in and asked what he wanted. He told me that the boys were all very angry and some of them very sick, so I had better stay in my hut for afew days. This I most certainly did not mean to do, and I told Moieau that I should meet the boys in the morning and have a “korero” with them. “I should advise them,” I added, “ not to try any more fighting with me.” After Moieau left me with this message I went back to bed, but did not get to sleepagain for some time. I was revolving in my mind various plans for the morning's council. I had a dangerous part to play and knew the odds were very much against me. However, I had been in tight places before this and got out, and surely my brains could outwit a dozen natives. The morning broke with glorious, clear, tro pical sunshine. I was up betimes, and, having had a good sleep, felt ready for anything. After making a hearty break- fast I began to prepare for my council. ‘hen, sticking my sheath-knife in my belt (I was not allowed a revolver by the company), I sallied forth. Before I had gone far I was startled by hearing cries of “E pahi! E pahi!” (‘A ship! A ship !”) I was uncommonly glad to hear this, for I knew that in all probability the ship the natives had sighted must be my relief steamer, whose duty it was to call at the island «bout every nine months to see if all was well. I hurried off to my look-out post and, hoist- ing the Union Jack upside down as a sign of distress, went down to the shore and waited for the ship's boat. In a short time she came in, bringing the supercargo; they had seen my signal of distress and were anxious to know the trouble. After relating the previous day’s fight a teas = Pat at ——: “1 HURRILD OFF TO MY LOOK-OUT POST, HOISTING THE UNION JACK UPSIDE DOWN AS. A SIGN OF DISTRESS. and the growing insubordination of the boys, I offered to remain as J was if they would give me a couple of revolvers. The supercargo, however, said he did not care to take the responsibility of leaving the mutinous boys with me, but would take them away. As they could not spare a hand from the steamer, and I could not leave the island and trust my property to the mercy of any chance ship that might call in, I remained behind.alone. 3 oogle Digitiz

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MY ADVENTURES The steamer, after landing provisions, etc., steamed away with my insubordinate men on board, leaving me the sole living inhabitant of the island, excepting my dumb friends—my dog Tim, three tame and ten wild cats, a sow, as tame and companionable as the dog, and a few fowls, to say nothing of the mosquitoes. The first three days passed quickly, for I had to get my goods unpacked and put away in the store-rooms. I was working at this from sunset to sunrise ; it was hard work, so in consequence I slept well. The next three days seemed rather longer, although I had still plenty of work to do in repairing buildings which the last hurricane had damaged, so I really went on fairly well for a week or ten days. The steamer’s trip, going and returning, ought to have occupied eleven days at the longest, so on the eleventh day I was at my look-out beacon earnestly searching the horizon for signs of a steamer’s smoke. But there was nothing to be seen, and I began to feel very uneasy, for I knew if anything had happened to her it would be six months at the earliest before I could be rescued. The utter loneliness of my position now I could not sleep began to get on my nerves. properly. Every noise, however small, seemed terribly loud and strange in the appalling stillness of the night. Another week passed, and I began to think the steamer must have been wrecked orgone ashore on one of the many reefs or low islands which aboundin those latitudes. If so, my lonely so- journ would be lengthened into many months. Disconcert- ing thoughts came into my mind. Would the awful lone- liness turn my brain? I feared it, and threw : et a myselfintohard “| NEVER WOKE UNTIL I WAS AROUSED BY ONE OF THE OFFICERS|OF/ THE! STEAMER, "! ON SUWARROW. ar work by way of relief, building a new boathouse and getting so thoroughly worn out that I managed to sleep a little, and in consequence my spirits improved. By the twentieth day I was almost reconciled to my fate, though my solitary state weighed heavily on my mind, and I felt a new- born sympathy for Robinson Crusoe. The twentieth night was stormy and foggy. I got little sleep—so little that next morning after breakfast, and a hopeless look round for signs of the missing vessel, I lay down and never woke until I was aroused by one of the officers of the steamer calling to me from the door of my hut. He was very glad to find me alive and comparatively well, for, not seeing my flag flying, they had imagined something dreadful had happened. I can tell you, however, they were not so glad as I was! The reason of the steamer being so long over- due was rather out of the ordinary. She lost her way and could not find Christmas Island, her destination! The captain, being a stranger in those parts, did not allow for the powerful currents, which carried the vessel miles out of her course, and in the end she only discovered the island by following the flight of the birds. The second lot of boys were more tractable, so the rest of my sojourn on Suwarrow was comparatively uneventful. At the end of my time I was shipped back again to Sydney — uncommonly glad to rub shoulders once more with the civilized world, although I did not by any means regret my experience. I may add that the overseer who succeeded meat Suwarrow —one Jack Buckland by name—met his death there in an unknown way after a few months’ sojourn on the island,

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A MODERN By M. H. FREE-LANCE. DE Hora. IL—A TALE OF TREASURE-TROVE. In this story Mr. de Hora relates how he and his friend, Admiral Pierola, fitted out an expedition to search for a sunken Spanish treasure-galleon; how they found the ship and recovered the gold: and the terrible catastrophe that befell them afterwards. N arriving in San Francisco after the Huascar muddle I went south again on a visit to my uncle, Pablo Her- rera, at his hacienda, “Los Reme- dios,” in the province of Sonora, Mexico. On my way there I stopped for a couple of days at Los Angeles with an old friend of my father’s, Colonel Bob Stevenson, who was at that time—1878—the United States Marshal for the district. I had been at my uncle’s ranch for some six months, and was getting heartily tired of the monotony of life there, when one morning I received a letter from Colonel Stevenson, which ran as follows :— “(One enclosure.) “United States Commissioners’ Office, “Los Angeles, California. “My Dear be Hora,—Looking through the California .4/fa, at the top of the agony column I came upon the enclosed advertisement : *M. H. de Hora.—If the aforenamed gentle- man will call at the offices of Messrs. 1. and M , Kearney Street, San Francisco, he will hear of something to his advantage. “Well, thinking I might help you along, I wrote on my official note-paper to the addrcss given. Three or four days passed, when, soon after the arrival of the mail coach, a dapper, Spanish-looking little gentleman walked into my otfice and handed me a note of introduction from Messrs. I.—— and M—-—, the San Francisco firm. It was to the effect that ‘our client, Don Nicholas Pierola, ex-admiral of the fleet in the Republic of Peru,’ particularly desired to know your whereabouts, as he had a matter of business which he wished to propose to you. What the business was the admiral flatly refused to tell me, and in face of that 1 refused to give him your address until I had your consent. I surmise that it has something to do with your late piratical adventure, so you can please yourself as to what further steps you take in the matter. My kindest regards to your uncle and yourself, dear boy.—Yours, Bor STEVENSON (Colonel).” I read the letter over two or three times and soon made up my mind. When my uncle came in from his rounds I told him that I was off to Los Angeles in the morning, and that I should take Pedro, my mother’s old henchman, with me. My uncle was surprised at my sudden decision, and did his best to dissuade me from embarking in any more rash enterprises. The benevolent old gentleman even went the length of offering me a partnership in the hacienda with him, but his kind endeavours were all in vain. The old restless spirit, the longing for adventure, had reasserted its hold over me, and, cost what it might, I was determined to go and see the admiral. A few days afterwards, therefore, I walked into Colonel Stevenson’s office. After the usual greetings we adjourned to the Sea View Hotel, where the colonel told me the admiral was staying. Sending up my name, Pierola, looking as dapper as ever, soon joined us, and after a friendly cocktail Colonel Bob said good-bye, and I went up with the admiral to his room. Closing and locking the door, my friend took from an inside pocket a roll of parchments. Carefully spreading them out on the table and striking a theatrical attitude he said : “ De Hora, behold our fortunes! You may have heard,” he went on, more calmly, “that after 1 sur- rendered the //uascar to Moore I was court- martialled for running away with the ship, and sentenced to be shot. This sentence was com- muted by President Prado to banishment for life. He stated in the preamble of his pardon that I had seized the ship without loss of life, and that my gallantry in the combat with the British vessels had called forth the admiration of the whole population of Peru, independent of party. I was therefore placed on board of a mail-boat with a free passage out of the country. “ Before long, however, there was a change of Government, and I was able to return. Now, you know, de Hora, that my wife is a Peruvian lady, and her father, Don Marcelino Diaz y Garcia, is keeper of the Government archives at the Cabildo in Lima. Naturally, after my return to Peru, I went at once to him, my wife joining me soon afterwards. About a fortnight later Don Marcelino came home one day in a state of great excitement, bringing with him these parchments you see on this table. He explained that whilst making some alterations in one of the vaults of the Cabildo the workmen had come upon a recess that had been built up.

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A MODERN FREE-LANCE. 23 Curiosity induced him to have it broken open. All it contained was a large chest, heavily banded with iron, and secured by two immense padlocks. These were soon opened, but my father-in-law, instead of the treasure he expected, found only a heap of old deeds relating to the events of the latter end of the sixteeenth century. Conveying them to his room, he commenced to wade through them. They mainly referred to real estate and mines held by one José Maria Anibal Pinto, who about that time was Generalissimo and Viceroy of the whole of South America. Amongst them were these papers, which are the Teport of a court- martial held at Lima in the year 1598 on one Miguel Pedro Morales, etc., com- mander of the galleon La Luz de la Esper- anza. The court- martial had been held for the purpose of in- quiring into the loss of the vessel, which had left Callao some six months before the date of the trial, loaded with trea- sure for the King of Spain, which treasure consisted entirely of ingots of gold and silver of the estimated value of five hundred thousand omsas (approximately two millions sterling). ‘There was also a casket of emeralds and other precious stones. “This chart”—here Pierola produced another paper from his pocket — “was appended to the report, and was evidently made by Morales to show the position of the lost vessel. Morales’s statement, as set forth in the report, is brief. It runs somewhat as follows: ‘He sailed from Callao in company with a galleon named the Espiritu Santo. Instead of crossing the Pacific, in view of the known presence of the English off the coast, the two ships proceeded south with the idea of passing through the Straits of Magellan and so across the Atlantic to Spain. All went well till they were emerging from the Straits, when they sighted two English ships. The Espiritu Santo, which was leading, and which was much the faster vessel, sustained a running fight with the Englishmen. ‘The wind suddenly shifting to the northward and coming on a furious gale, Morales was compelled to run before it, and sought safety in the Pasaje de Navarino, which divides the Navarin Island from Tierra del Fuego, and which is now known as the Beagle Channel.* Here the Za Zus seems to have run on a pinnacle of rock, unmarked by the kelp, and foundered in fifteen fathoms of water. Her crew escaped in the pinnace and another boat. No part of the wreck remained above water, as her topmasts were housed at the time she struck.’ “Now, look here, de Hora,” continued the admiral, unroll- ing yet another chart, “this is approximately the place where the galleon sank, for I have carefully plotted Morales’s cross-bear- ings. You will see the rock is not marked on the chart, I sup- pose from the fact of its not being in- dicated by the kelp; consequently it escaped the notice of the Beagle’s officers when they made their survey. “After perusing these documents I got my father-in-law to make a most careful examina- tion of all the papers in his possession, to dis- cover whether any at- tempt at salvage had been made. Not only did he fail to find any, but he could not even trace amongst the archives in his charge any tidings beyond the fact of the lost galleon having sailed from Callao. He suggested that the Viceroy had carefully kept all informa- tion as to her whereabouts to himself, with the idea of future operations on his own account. My father-in-law ascertained that Pinto had been assassinated some twelve months after the court- martial, during an Indian rising.” “© NOW, LOOK HERE, DE HORA," CONTINUED = THE ADMIRAL, “THIS IS APPROXIMATELY THE PLACE WHERE THE GALLEON SANK."” * Named after H.M.S. Béagée, which mide extensive surveys in these waters. SE

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24 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The admiral paused; then added, impres- sively: “De Hora, you and I must find that galleon, and if we have any luck we shall be rich beyond the dreams of avarice !” During the whole time Pierola had been making his statement the old spirit of adventure had been awakening within me, and the admiral had barely concluded when I held out my hand. “I'm with you,” I said; “1 have still nine thousand dollars of the moncy that you paid me lodged with Mr. Tisdale, the banker, in San Diego, and I am willing to risk every cent with you in the enterprise.” “JT am glad you speak like that, de Hora,” said the admiral ; “we will be partners, then. I have with me close on twenty thousand dollars, ten thousand of which my father-in-law supplied me with ; the rest he obtained amongst his friends on condition that one-fifth part of the treasure should belong to him and them. You and I, therefore, have four-fifths to divide between us.” We remained discussing the plans of the treasure-hunting expedition far into the night, and the next morning left for San Francisco, after I had written to Mr. Tisdale to forward me a draft for my money. On arrival at San Francisco we at once went to Blythe, the ship- broker, in Vallejo Street, and asked him if he knew of any brig or schooner of about two or three hundred tons for sale. “Yes,” he said, “there isa vessel lyirg off, the foot of the wharf that I think will suit you ; she is the Philadelphia brigantine Fortuna, of two hundred and ninety-nine tons register, thoroughly sound and not yet on her second letter. Her late captain and owner died here about six weeks ago, and I have had instructi..ns to offer her for sale, complete as she is, with two suits of sails, spare gear, and boat, ready for sea, for the sum of twenty thousand dollars.” The admiral and I engaged a rowing-boat and put off to the Fortuna. We decided, after rowing round her, that she looked all right from the water. Then, going on board, we gave the agent’s card to the watchman in charge of her and proceeded to inspect the ship. She was a flush-decked, strongly-built vessel, very squarely rigged forward, and gave one the idea not only of seaworthiness, but that she would be very fast. Her spars and rigging seemed all in good order, and looking over her sails, which were spread out in the hold, we found one suit nearly new, as though it had only been bent once, whilst the other suit would be serviceable in any ordinary weather. “T reckon she will do, admiral,” I said. “What we have got to do now is to buy her as cheaply as we can, victual her, raise a crew— some of the old Huascar boys, if we can get them—and then off we go. We must clear from San Francisco ostensibly for a sealing voyage to the South Seas.” After some pretty tall bluffing on both sides, the Fortuna was finally bought trom the broker for eighteen thousand five hundred dollars, and my name was placed on her register as captain end owner of two-fifths, Mr. Nicholas Pierola and partners owning the remaining three-fifths. Making inquiries round the different sailors’ boarding-houses, I was lucky in running up against Jackson, my assistant in the A/uascar affair, whom I shipped as mate. Jackson promptly got together ten other men; we also engaged a well-known Philadelphia diver named “Charlie” Jones. Provisions and stores were purchased and embarked, together with two fine whale-boats, two complete sets of diving gear, spare ropes, and everything that we thought necessary to ensure the success of the trip. ‘The crew were shipped “on the lay,” ze. they received only nominal wages, but a proportional part of whatever might be the earnings of the vessel during her voyage. No word was said to anyone about the treasure, but a hint was given to Jackson, and by him communicated to the men, that sealing in the Cape Horn waters was not the only object of the trip. In less than a fortnight after her purchase the Fortuna passed out through the Golden Gate upon her eventful voyage. After a passage of forty-nine days the brigan- tine arrived off the western entrance of the Beagle Channel, and ran in the next morning before a light westerly gale, anchoring about four o'clock in the afternoon off Usuhuihua, a mission station founded by a missionary named Allen Gardiner. Lowering one of the whale- boats the admiral and I went ashore to the mission, where we were heartily welcomed by the missionary in charge, to whom we took a supply of books and papers, for which he was very grateful. After a conversation about things in general and seals and wrecks in particular, we elicited the information that no wreck, at least so far as the missionary knew, had ever taken place in the channel. Neither were there any known dangers to navigation, the A//en Gardiner—the ketch that belonged to the mission, and which at present was away at the Falkland Islands—having navigated the waters of the channel continually for the previous a years. This was good news to us, and soon after we said good-bye to the missionaries and returned on board the Fortuna. Early next morning we got under way and, running through the channel until the eastern entrance was in sight,

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A MODERN FREE-LANCE. 25 came to au anchor in a sheltered cove in the line of one of the bearings given by Captain Morales in the chart drawn by him, which also showed the cove in which we anchored. Next morning the admiral and I located approximately the position of the wreck. After dinner we left the ship in one of the whale- boats, taking with us “ Charlie” Jones, together with the diving gear and the two diving dresses. Having donned his dress the diver was sent down, and the whole of the afternoon was spent in a vain endeavour to locate the wreck or the rock on which she struck, but entirely with- out success. We returned on board much dis- heartened. The crew received us anxiously, for by this time the men were thoroughly alive to the fact that sealing was anything but the object of the voyage. That night, while I was sitting in the cabin with the admiral, gloomily discussing the day’s failure, an idea suddenly occurred to me. “Did you allow for the change in the varia- tion of the compass between the time that Morales took his bearings and the present day?” I asked. “Over three centuries have passed since then, and the difference would most probably be very consider- able.” . The admiral jumped out of his chair as though he had been shot. “You are right, de Hora!” he cried. “In my excitement I put down Morales’s bearings on the Admiralty chart without stopping to think of the difference in varia- tion occasioned by the lapse of time. What an idiot I am not to have thought of it!” With feverish haste he took down the chart and some paper and instruments ; then he made some calculations and laid down the fresh bearings indicated by their result. “You see,” he said, presently, holding up the chart, ‘‘the galleon must be nearly three hundred yards farther to the eastward of where we were searching this afternoon, and close to, if not covered by, the bank of short kelp Jones spoke about.” “T will go down myself to- morrow with Jones,” I replied. “If we have got to tackle the kelp it is safer for two to go down than one at a time, for to get tangled up in that slimy, snaky stuff would be a very awful experience.” Early next morning we com Vol. xviie—4, menced operations again at the new spot deter- mined by the previous night’s calculations. After I had donned the diving dress I had at first great difficulty in getting down, for I was not an experienced diver like Jones. One or two trials, however, and some advice and instructions from Jones enabled me to reach the bottom safely. Going towards the kelp together, we began cutting it away with the long, heavy knives we had brought with us for the purpose. At the third or fourth slash Jones tapped on my helmet and pointed to where he had cut the kelp away. Looking closely, I saw what seemed to be a worm-eaten balk of timber. It was the stump of the galleon’s foremast ! We returned to the surface overjoyed, and as soon as the glass had been unscrewed from the front of my helmet I exclaimed to the excited admiral, “She is there right enough; Jones and I descended on to her deck. The kelp has grown up all round her ; the long pieces which you see floating about on the surface now were cut away by us from one of her masts.”

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26 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. After a consultation it was decided to take the men in the boat into our confidence, and Pierola then gave them a brief history of the loss of the galleon, being careful, however, not to enlarge on the amount of treasure she had on board. It took Jones and myself the best part of a week before we were able to cut away the kelp sufficiently to permit us to enter the poop, where, so far as the semi-darkness allowed us to observe, things seemed to be pretty much as when Morales and his crew had left the wreck three centuries before. A careful search of all the cabins failed to reveal the whereabouts of the casket of emeralds and precious stones, and we afterwards came to the conclusion that Morales had been sufficiently astute to remove them on his own account before abandoning the ship. Next day Jones and I broke through into the hold, and there, sure enough, were the ingots of gold and silver. It took us nearly a month to recover them and remove the precious hoard to the Fortuna, but we did not leave off working at the wreck of the La Luz de la Esperanza until we were confident that nothing more in the shape of treasure remained on board. During this time we received several visits from the missionaries, and some of the native islanders were con- tinually on the scene of the operations. These natives were encouraged to come, as they kept us well supplied with fresh fish, besides bringing a number of valuable seal and otter skins, which they bartered for mere trifle. We consistently en- couraged them to visit us, as the skins so obtained afforded a reasonable justification for our long stay in the channel. The evening the salvage opera- tions were concluded the admiral and I had a discussion in the cabin of the Fortuna as to where we should take the treasure. The admiral was strongly in favour of proceeding to England—London preferably—where, by consigning the vessel to one of the large banks, he hoped to be allowed to land the bullion without too many awkward questions being asked. I, on the other hand, strongly advocated returning to San Fran- cisco, seeing that the vessel was under the American flag and she had cleared from there for a sealing voyage. “Tf,” I argued, “whilst sealing we acci- dentally discovered an old wreck which did not belong to anybody that we knew of, lying near an island which was not owned by any Govern- ment, why should we not openly land the gold and sell it, either to the mint of California or some of the many bullion dealers in San Francisco ?” The admiral, however, was not to be con- vinced, and finally, considering that he con- trolled three-fifths of the venture and was instrumental in getting me my share, I gave way. The next day we got under way and stood out of the Beagle Channel bound for London, rounding the point of the Codrington Mountains. Just as we were entering the Straits of Le Maire we fell in with an Argentine gun-boat, which to our intense disgust fired a shot across our bows and hoisted a signal ordering us to heave to. ‘The wind at the time was easterly, So ips Se . As, a ——— “AN ARGENTINE GUN-BOAT FIRED A SHOT \ACROSS-OUR BOWS.”

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A MODERN light, and variable, and the current was running southwards very strongly through the Straits ; so, as there was no chance of escaping, we reluctantly backed the foretop-sail to the mast. The gun-boat, which turned out to be the Co/on, sent a boat aboard and demanded to see our papers; these were produced and examined. The lieutenant ia charge of the boat then requested Pierola and myself to accompany him on board the gun-boat, whose captain politely, but firmly, informed us that, on account of the dispute between the Argentine and Chilian Republics as to the ownership of the islands south of the Straits of Magellan, he had been dispatched to examine all vessels sealing in the channels and waters of those islands, and to arrest and take to Buenos Ayres all craft found fishing without a license granted by the Argentine Republic. “Consequently, gentle- men,” he said, “I shall have to put a prize crew on board your vessel to take her into that port.” Here was a bolt from the blue with a ven- geance! Treasure of the approximate value of two millions sterling in our hold, barely hidden by the few skins which we had traded from the natives, and a prize crew on board, with a prospective passage of two or three weeks, during which time they would have ample opportunities of discovering our real cargo! I felt like killing somebody. As soon as we got back on board the Fortuna Pierola turned to me. “Confound my luck!” he cried. “If I had not been so pig-headed and gone out at the western instead of the eastern end of the channel, as you advised me, we should not have been in this mess.” “Well, admiral, I don’t know,” I said. “It is pretty certain that if the Argentines sent a boat down this side the Chilians have sent one down the other, so most likely it would have been out of the frying-pan into the fire, and instead of it being fur me to reproach you it would have been your turn to reproach me. But what about the treasure? Shall we, before we part company with the gun-boat, endeavour to make a deal with her commander, or state the facts of the case to him?” Pierola, however, was against this course, so that evening the two vessels parted company, the brigantine, with her prize crew on board, bound for Buenos Ayres, whilst the Co/on con- tinued her cruise in search of trespassers upon the sacred territory of the Argentine Republic. The passage to Buenos Ayres was a quick one, but not so rapid that the lieutenant in command of the prize crew had not sufficient lime to discover what we had on_ board. FREE - LANCE. 27 Immediately he did so he confined Pierola and myself to the cabin and placed the whole of the crew in irons, evidently thinking that he had captured some murderous disciples of Captain Kidd, who had remained steadfast to that worthy’s teachings even in the latter half of the nineteenth century. On arriving at Buenos Ayres we were landed and placed in prison, but a garbled account of the seizure of an American vessel with a fabulous treasure on board by an Argentine man-o’-war crept into the papers, and, although neither the admiral nor myself was allowed to communi- cate with anyone, we were visited the next day by the United States Consul, who insisted on seeing the captain of the American vessel. Guarded by a couple of soldiers, I was taken out of my cell, where I had been kept in solitary confinement, and brought into the room in the prison where the Consul was waiting. Briefly I told the official the whole story. “As far as I can see,” said the Consul, thoughtfully, when I had finished, “you will lose your treasure, for an investigation will certainly be held before the Courts here. Out of deference to the pressure which the United States Minister will bring to bear upon them, however, they will restore your vessel, and allow you some compensation for the trouble you have had in the recovery of the gold.” Next day the admiral and I, together with the crew of the brigantine, were removed to a military prison some little distance outside the town, where we were allowed a certain amount of liberty. This was done at the request of the United States Minister, who also endeavoured to obtain our release on bail pending the trial before the High Court. In three days’ time he was partially successful, and we were permitted to return to the fortuna, from which the treasure had been carefully removed. An armed guard was kept on board to see that we did not try to escape. In due course the trial came on, a sorry farce from our point of view. The result was practically a foregone conclusion. The Court found :— “(1) That the treasure undoubtedly belonged originally to the Spanish Government. ‘*(2) That it had been lost in. waters over which the Argentine Republic claimed juris- diction. “(3) That in the year 1810 the Argentine Government had thrown off all allegiance to Spain, and that by a subsequent treaty all the property of the late Spanish Government became vested in the Government of the Republic. “ Therefore/”< bran? the) ‘judgment, “* the

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28 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. treasure discovered and recovered by the owners, captain, and crew of the United States brigantine /ortuna belongs to the Argentine Government ; and whereas the Court mercifully presume that the said thousand dollars which we received for her with the hundred thousand dollars which we got from the Argentine Republic, and dividing it proportionately amongst the owners of the vessel and her crew according to their “| TOLD THE OFFICIAL THE WHOLK STORY.” owners, captain, and crew were in ignorance of the just and lawful claims of the Argentine Republic to the said treasure, therefore the Court decides :— “ Firstly. vessel Fortuna. “Secondly. To pay the owners, captain, and crew of the said vessel a lump sum of one hundred thousand (100,000) dollars gold, to be divided amongst them in the proportions each and every one is entitled to according to the articles signed by them on board the Fortuna.” After selling the vessel and placing the fifteen Not to confiscate the American . respective ratings, Pierola and I found our- selves financially about in the same condition as when we started on the enterprise, our only gain being a splendid first-hand know- ledge of the complicated absurdities of the laws of treasure-trove, whereby a Government which was ignorant of the very existence of the sunken galleon netted something like two millions sterling, while the men who had risked their lives and money to salve the gold were told to con- sider themselves lucky that they had covered their expenses. I shall think twice before I embark on another treasure-hunt. Next Month: “THE AFraiR aT Turuti.” Digitized by G oogle Cc

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Among Insurgents and Brigands in Crete. By Cuartes H. Hawes. An account of a semi-scientific journey in the interior of Crete. this turbulent Mr. Hawes’s trip through country was by ro means devoid of incident, and his photographs add considerably to the interest of his descriptions. Sa) ARLY in 1905 I set out to make an SG) anthropometric survey of the Island FD of Crete under the auspices of the Pe §) British Association. On landing at "Candia I found that a fortnight pre- viously an insurrection, which had been smoul- dering during the previous spring, had blazed up again, and the standard of revolt had been raised once more at Therisso, which lies but three or four hours’ journey south of the political capital of the island, Canea. There, on the 24th of March, under the leadership of a quondam Minister of Justice, had been unfurled the Greek flag with the motto, “Union or Death,” a cry that had been heard many a time during the previous century, and one to which few Cretans failed, or dared to fail, to respond. Insurrection and revolution are the forms which the political agitation and_ platform 1 oratory of a cooler-blooded people, like our- selves, take with the excitable Cretans. They quote with pride the long list of revolutions (1821, 1833, 1841, 1858, 1866-8, 1878, 1889, 1896-8) of last century, until one begins to fear that insurrection has become a confirmed habit with them. But it is only fair to add that during all this time the people of Crete were under the yoke of the Turk ; and what this means the first illustration will bring home to the reader. It represents a street in Candia after the revolution in 1898, when the Turkish troops were finally withdrawn. When the Turkish troops evacuated the island in November, 1898, and the four protecting A STREET IN CANDIA AFTER THE REVOLUTION OF 1898, From a Photo.

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30 : THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Powers —France, Great Britain, Italy, and Russia —granted a Constitution, with Prince George of Greece as High Commissioner, the Cretans thought that this was a provisional step towards the much-desired union with Greece ; but seven years have passed and their darling wish has not been granted. Yet even so an insurrection was improbable had not the feelings of dis- content been skilfully turned into the channel of national aspirations. Landing at Candia, the largest though not the capital town of Crete, I found four hundred WRITISH SOLDIERS COLLECTING RIFLES FROM THE From a) NATIVES. (Photo. British troops stationed there, and Tommy Atkins patrolling the streets night and day, guarding the museum, the Cretan Bank, and other public buildings. The eastern portion of the island is the English secteur, and the duties of our forces there were mainly confined to maintaining order between the Mussulmans and the Orthodox Christians; but the inhabitants of this zone are not so fiery or enthusiastic as the mountaineers of Sphakia and Apokoronso in the west. Nevertheless, since last June the British troops have learnt to their sorrow that, notwithstanding their disarmament of the Cretans during the previous years, rifles have been forth- coming in a mysterious manner from hiding- places or from over the sea. The photo. above reproduced shows our soldiers collecting rifles in accordance with the orders for disarming the natives. The insurrection has its ludicrous side, and this is apparent in the exaggerated reports of what the Cretans term battles. Sitting at my window in Canea one day, I heard excited cries of “Siege of the monastery of Toplou! Gen- darmes at Toplou!” Afterwards I met a friend with whom I had been excavating in the neigh- bourhood of Toplou, and learned from him the following account of the so-called “ siege.” A small force of gendarmerie, or Ahorophyllakes, as they are called, was sent to Palaikastro, in the extreme east of the island, but, finding the accommodation insufficient, they turned to the monastery of Toplou, about four miles distant. The guardians of law and order had already learned that the monks were sheltering armed insurgents—to the number, it was said, of six— and accordingly made their approach with circumspection. It must have been the hour of the noontide siesta, for no attempt seems to have been made to keep out the “ besiegers,” and the officer, placing his men below in the courtyard, ascended one of the stone stairways that led to the guest-chamber, where, taking off his top-boots, he crept noiselessly in and quickly manacled the leader of the rebels, who was asleep on the divan. ‘The others were together in an adjacent room, and on hearing the alarm prepared to resist. (Khorophyllakes were posted

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AMONG THE MONASTERY OF TOPLOU, WITH ITS CURIOUS From a} WINDMILL. (Photo. outside the room, and as the besieged refused to surrender they were kept without food or water throughout two broiling hot days, until a more submissive frame of mind was induced. Even then they did not yield without a scuffle, in which the officer received a slight wound in the hand. And this was the sanguinary encounter which thrilled Candia! The fore- going photograph depicts the monastery of Toplou, with its curious windmill. I had spent some weeks at the outset of my trip in excavating skulls and “ Minoan” potsherds, etc., at Palaikastro, and gradu- ally made my way westward to Candia, carrying out cranio- metrical observations on living subjects throughout each pro- vince. Leaving Candia, I continued in a west- erly direction towards Canea. My first stop was at Anogeia, a vil- lage on the northern slopes of Mount Ida, famed for the beauty of its inhabitants. It was here that I met my first insurgents—in the act of firing out of the windows of the 4affe- neion (inn) where I had put up. The ac- companying illustration was taken the following INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN CRETE. 3r morning. These rebels were of the type that liked to swagger around, rifle in hand, and be toasted everywhere, but whowould probably make themselves scarce in the event of fighting. Of quite another calibre was one I met on the fol- lowing day. I had left that morning the vil- lage of Melid- honi—where four days later there was an engage- ment between eighty Russian troops and one hundred _ insur- gents—and was making my way up to the famous monastery of Arkadhi, where I encoun- tered an armed man who turned out to be the brother of the Abbot. It was pathetic to see the eagerness with which his wife welcomed him back from unknown dangers, and pretty to see his pride in his little three-year-old son, who was lovingly fingering the trigger of his father’s rifle. The English troops, who were the first to move from their barracks, had already begun A GROUP OF INSURGENTS,

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32 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) & HOUSEHOLD REMOVAL ON THE CRETAN SYSTEM. to occupy positions in the interior, in order to protect Mussulman farmers on the upper slopes of the Messara plain. ‘They were followed by the Russians; and a week later I rode into a village to find it, a few minutes after my arrival, occupied by Russian ‘soldiers. The following night I found the walls of the monastery of Roustika manned by thirty-seven Russian Tommies. Over the western border was the Italian secteur, which, with the French, was the most difficult zone in which to main- tain order ; and yet those two Powers were taking no active steps, so that within adozen miles of the capital, in the Bay of Suda, I found a score of armed _ insurgents sitting in broad daylight outside the affencion of Kalyves. It occurred to me that the stronghold of the insurgents at Therisso would From a) A PARTY OF KHOROPHYLLAKES,” OR NATIVE provide me with excellent and abund- ant material for anthropometric work, and I therefore prepared for a fifteen days’ tour to the camp and beyond into Sphakia. Mules were to be taken for this journey, as it promised to be too difficult even for Western Cretan ponies. The Cretan mule is not only surefooted but hardy, as may be gathered from the accompanying picture, which depicts a household removal on the Cretan system, with a mule acting as pantechnicon. From this time I was fortunate enough to have with me a well-trained and trusty Cretan servant, Constantinos Chronakis by name, or Costis for short. I had sent for him from Candia. The day after he arrived, while taking a walk out to Alykianow, he was fired at ; but he was plucky and made no demur at accompanying me. The way lay between walled gardens of aloes, citron and almond trees, and then over a low ridge to a level plain of olive groves. Threading these I came to the pretty village of Mourneés, its long street shaded by trailing vines and its white walls garlanded with roses and carnations growing luxuriantly from out of broken water cruses and Baku petroleum tins. In front stood a great barrier of limestone mountains over two thousand feet in height, and behind them, towering up to eight thousand [Photo.

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AMONG INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN CRETE. 33 feet, the White or Sphakiote Mountains, still clad in snow. A company of French soldiers and a posse of gendarmerie—seen in the pre- vious photograph—were met, and after that we entered the sphere of the insurgents. ‘The track suddenly plunged into the hills and climbed a narrow winding alley, whose sides were covered with yellow sage and wild thyme, and whose torrent stream was bordered by oleanders, planes, and tapering cypresses. After two and a half hours’ climb I found myself in the narrow valley or defile by which one’s name, provenance, age, and objects in life. The scene that met my eyes was indeed interesting. Therisso is quite unlike the villages of Eastern and Central Crete, with their white, flat-topped cottages piled one above another, for its poor little, brown, rock-built homes are scattered about the sides of the hollow bowered intrees. Gazing upwards I could descry through the cypresses the hill-tops, from which the watch could make out Canea below and the two Italian battleships at anchor, symbolic of the might of the four Great Powers. ‘The bottom A TYPICAL CRETAN VILLAGE. From a Photo. Therisso is approached, and, bobbing my head frequently to avoid the fate of Absalom among the olive trees, I rode up to the entrance of the village. No sentries were posted, but armed men in twos and threes met us as we approached head-quarters. About fifteen or twenty were seated, guns in hand, outside the saffeneion, and five or six burly fellows, including, I think, the captain-general of the forces, barred my way in the middle of the village to ask whence I came and whither I went. Replying shortly “ From Canea,” I pushed on to the temporary magazi, or “shop,” leaving my servant to answer all the inquiries a Cretan loves to make as to Vol. xvii.-5. of the hollow and centre of the village was before me, a tiny olive-yard, its carpet of green worn bare by the tramp of many feet. Here were two rude shanties, forming the magaz? (shop) of the camp, where a great trade was being done. The proprietor was in the act of frying potatoes as I entered, and had thrown off his coat, but he was girded with bandoleer, pistol, and knife, while his gun hung handy on the wall. A sheep’s carcass was hanging at the door, and bread and cheese, boiled gherkins, beans stewed in olive oil, salad, lemons, wine, and mastika—(spirit) ,were all obtain- able—anp extraordinarily (full list for a Cretan

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34 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. village, but due to the demand of the insurgent leaders. Here I ran right into the crowd of warriors, and men filed in and out of the magazt, with all sorts of excuses, to see and inquire who the stranger was. 1 had arrived entirely un- announced and without introduction, but half an hour later there came a request for an interview from M. Manos, one of the leaders, who, I had already heard, had been at Balliol College, Oxford. With great kindness he entered into my scientific work and made my visit a success, for the men ‘already suspected some ulterior motive, and had it not been for his example, followed by the captain-general and several doctys and lawyers, they would not have allowed themselves to be measured. The rank and file spent their time in playing cards and backgammon, and in smoking and talking outside the Aaffeneron. ‘There was quite a big proportion of doctors, lawyers, and desert- ing Ahorophy lakes among them ; and one public character in the person of a poor idiot, who brayed inimitably like an ass, and kept the village in roars of laughter. One thing may be said to the credit of this gathering of warriors, that it would be almost impossible to find European troops in a like position so well behaved. Sometimes the leaders, MM. Venezelos, Pappayannakis, Foumes, Manos, etc., were in - consultation, and counter-proclamations to those of the Consuls-General would result. At the time of my arrival the camp contained only one hundred men, which was but a fifth of the number there had been. ‘There was con- stant movement and changing of levies, one province contributing for a short period, followed immediately by another ; but the leaders claimed to be able to call up four thousand men if required. ‘Those in camp received sixpence fer diem, funds being forthcoming from Athens, from merchants and peasants throughout the island who secretly or openly supported the revolution, and from the well-to-do among the leaders. The scene in the centre of the village at night was truly picturesque. In the tiny olive-yard the leaders, doctors and lawyers, in rough garb, sat at tables improvised from boxes and planks, eating their simple fare by the dim light of oil lamps swinging from the boughs of olive trees. The affeneion wakened again to a scene of feverish activity, and men in full Cretan costume of braided waistcoat, full baggy breeches, silk sash, and greenish-buff jack-boots, girded with bandoleer, pistols, and knives, moved about with kaleidoscopic effect to the sound of thuddinz rifle-butts ; for not one of them would let his gun out of his hand for an instant. Before leaving Therisso M. Manos was kind enough to offer me any assistance in his power. It was done in general terms, and I scarcely realized that he meant an escort of arms. Moreover, he added that there should be little danger, except where a village was politically divided against itself and I might be unwittingly involved in the quarrel. I had, however, already travelled several hundred miles in safety and did not apprehend any danger, and as my work required all the tact at my command, to appear with an escort of armed men would have proved fatal in most cases. Meskla was my next stage, and I learned too late that it was a village of doubtful repute. However, my usual good fortune accompanied me, and though an enterprising thief penetrated by the chimney into the primitive abode in which I slept that night, and abstracted my purse, containing five hundred francs, an alert landiord sleeping upon the roof was aroused by the escaping burglar and gave chase, with success. The following day, by a steep upward track which had been washed away in places, I reached the mountain village of Lakki or Lakkous. Vines, olive trees, and corn clothed the hillsides, but the village is not a rich one, and the young men, ‘mountaineers of fine physique, are in the habit of capturing brides from among the daughters of the richer folk of the plains. An instance of this had occurred only the night before my arrival. The houses were poor and bare, for again and again the village has been burned. Lakkous was ever a thorn in the flesh of the conquering Venetians and Turks, and the courage and martial temper of the Lakkiotes are testified to to-day by the tuins of no fewer than fourteen blockhouses on the neighbouring heights. It was here that I met another University man—Dr. Jannaris, late Professor of Modern Greek at the University of St. Andrews. He had not long left a Cretan prison, where he had been confined for /ése-mayesté. He kindly gave me such assistance as M. Manos had, and I was soon busily at work recording measure- ments of some sixty Lakkiotes, of whom most were warriors. From Lakkous it was my object to reach Sphakia, that province which has been the birthplace of most of the revolutions, and the home of a race of hardy mountaineers who have kept themselves apart from the rest of the islanders, and have successfully resisted invaders. Yet, if they are a finer race physically and mentally than the other Cretans, their clever- ness runs to cunning and even to treachery. Their country promised to, yield the purest-

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AMONG INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN CRETE. 35 blooded people in Crete, and as such appealed to me as my best hunting-ground ; but it is also the wildest and the most sparsely-popu- lated region. It is a country of mountains, which in the western half break steeply to the sea, and in the eastern are skirted by a sloping shelf of fallen rocky soil. Two passes only lead ‘nto it from the north ; I preposed to enter by the western pass and leav> by the eastern, About three hours’ climb among the mountain tops brought my servant and I up to the plain of Omalos, an ancient dried lake-bed out of which rose the mountains. The plain had an altitude of four thousand feet and on the skirts of it were a few mounds of piled-up stones, the summer shelters of shepherds. A halt was made here, and at one o'clock I pushed on towards a grand rocky descent ending in a magnifi- + cent gorge giving on to the Libyan Sea. I had been sceptical of the difficulties and the awe-inspir- ing descriptions of the giddy precipices, for I had seen many such in the Himalayas and Ceylon, but I must confess I was very much im- pressed by Omalos. THE GORGE OF OMALOS, From a Photo. Aiter losing my way amid countless sheep tracks I came suddenly to the edge of the plain, where it fell away almost sheer for two thousand feet. Far below I could see a torrent-bed, from which a difficult descent of another two thousand feet would, I knew, bring me to the sea. Above was yet another four thousand feet of mountain —great walls of cliff, with gaunt, wind-swept cypresses at their very edge. A wild, moraine- like drift of rocks and stones swept down from the eight thousand feet of mountain, and away below me, though it was late in June, were big pockets of snow. Dismounting at the edge, I took the photograph here reproduced. I was just replacing my camera in my saddle- bags when up came two natives with well-filled cartridge-belts, and carrying Peabody-Martin Tifles. I was not surprised, for I had met many such, and bade them the usual salutation, “Kali mera” (“Good day”). They replied by asking where I was going, volunteering the information that they themselves were on their way to fetch animals from the ham- let of Samaria, three hours’ journey down the gorge. Then they left us—but we were destined to meet again presently, and under decidedly ex- citing circumstances. (Zo be concluded.)

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The Love of Count Erbach. By H. E.puperc, OF BERLIN. One of the most striking romances in the annals of the German aristocracy. The story of a colossal sacrifice made “for dear love’s sake’? which has few parallels either in fact or fiction. COUNT FRANCIS ERBACH, THE YOUNG GERMAN NOBLEMAN WHO HAS MARRIED A WASHERWOMAN’S DAUGHTER. From a Photo. EADERS of THe Wipe WorLb } MaGaziINE may have seen from 2) their newspapers that Count Francis Wa) Irbach, a young German nobleman —— Of exalted rank, had created a sen- sation throughout Germany by marrying a washerwoman’s pretty daughter. ‘The few lines in the cable despatches, however, hardly gave more than a suggestion of what must be described as one of the most striking romances in the annals of German society. Some of the details here given in connection with it have not even been published in Berlin, but, with the accompanying photographs, have been obtained from reliable sources in the neighbourhood of the Count’s ancestral estate in the German Grand Duchy of Hesse. I think it will be agreed that the story they tell of a colossal sacrifice made for love’s sake has had few parallels either in fact or fiction. To begin with, it should be remembered that the German aristocracy is far more exclusive and far more jealous of its rights and _ privileges than the aristocracy of England, France, or Italy. German counts and barons, with a line of ancestors extending back to the darkest early Middle Ages, look down with contempt on the “mushroom” families which have sprung up in England and other countries during the last three or four centuries. The Erbachs are not only a noble family, tut they are a “mediatized” family, which means that they enjoy absolute equality of birth with all the Royal families of Europe. The Counts of Erbach trace their descent back to noble warriors of the tenth eentury. Ever since that remote period every male and every female ancestor of the present reigning Count of Erbach has been of noble birth. The children of those who contracted mésalliances have been excluded from the succession. Eight hundred years ago the Counts of Erbach were the independent monarchs of a State situated in South Germany, on the right bank of the Rhine, and they continued to rule over their dominions, which were some three hundred square miles in extent, until the year 1815, when their territory was absorbed in the Grand Duchy of Hesse. After the loss of their ANNA SCHULZ, THE WASHERWOMAN'S DAU ERBACH HAS MARRIED. [ From a> Photo. by Frith, Meh schkel. a TER WHOM COUNT

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THE LOVE OF COUNT ERBACH. 37 actual suzerainty the Counts of Erbach received a guarantee ihat their rank and that of their descendants should be considered equal to that of all reigning houses for ever and ever. At the same time the head of the family, who is still entitled to call himself the “reigning Count,” received the right of styling himself “Serene Highness.” In common with the members of the various reigning families in Germany, the Counts of Erbach can never be arrested and are exempt from the necessity of appearing in any law court, either as defendant in a civil action or as a witness to give evidence on oath. If their evidence should be necessary, a special com- missioner is re- | quired to wait | upon them in | their own home to take their evi- dence privately. In such cases their simple assertions are considered as weighty as the evidence of ordi- nary mortals given on oath. A Count of Erbach is thus absolutely equal in rank and birth to the Ger- man Emperor or the Czar of Russia, and his line of descent, from a genea- logical point of view, is undoubtedly far purer than that of any monarch at present reigning in Europe. It is necessary to bear these circum- stances in mind in order to estimate the enor- mity of the offence which Count Francis Erasmus Erbach has committed in marrying a plebeian peasant girl. The Counts of Erbach possess not only high rank and birth, but also large estates and great wealth. Their landed possessions are dotted about in Hesse, Wiirtemberg, and Bavaria, as well as in the Austrian provinces of Bohemia and Salzburg. ‘These estates cover an aggregate area of rather more than ten thousand acres, and are the source of a rich annual revenue to their owners. The reigning Count of Erbach possesses three stately castles, situated on his estates in Hesse, Wiirtemberg, and Salzburg, as well as a magnificent palace in Berlin, a smaller palace in Munich, and a third town residence in Vienna. A villa on the shores of Lake Con- stance, another villa at the fashionable South German summer resort of Baden-Baden, and THE CASTLE OF EXBACH, THE ANCESTRAL HOME OF COL half-a-dozen hunting lodges on their various estates, complete the number of houses at the disposal of the Erbachs. The annual income of the reigning Count of Erbach is known to exceed two hundred thousand pounds. Count Francis Erasmus Erbach is the eldest son of the reigning Count, and was thus the heir to all the wealth and glory of the family. He was brought up in strict seclusion, and his tutors took especial pains to imbue him with the family pride and with respect for the family traditions, He was taught to regard an Erbach as a superior being, who must on no account contaminate himself by contact with persons of mut Ree :, > ake Ni FRANCIS BREACH. plebeian birth. He learnt to recite the names of his ancestors back to the tenth century, and to remember that those who had married women of lower birth than themselves had been expelled from the family in disgrace. Count Francis Erasmus lived and grew up in this suffocating intellectual atmosphere until he reached the age of eighteen, when, like most other young German noblemen, he became a student at the University of Bonn. Here for the first time he came into contact with the outside world and gained some practical know- ledge of other classes of society. Being an_ intelligent, good-natured, and amiable youth, the young nobleman rapidly became a favourite among his fellow-students, and had every opportunity of participating in all the riotous pleasures which characterize life at a German University. He learned to be a swordsman and an expert shot with a revolver in order to fight the duels which fall to the lot of every well-born German student. The rough- and-tumble life at Bonn knocked a good deal of the hereditary nousense;out of his head, and

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38 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. caused him to mentally revise many of the principles which his tutors had endeavoured to impress upon his memory. About a year after he began his studies at Bonn he was riding one day in the forests of the ancestral estate at Erbach in Hesse when he saw for the first time the girl who has now become his wife. The young Count, who made a s VF v! ? g: | zZ ? y; “ME SAW FOR THE FIRST TIME THE GIRL WHO HAS NOW BECOME HIS WIFE," striking figure on his spirited steed, accosted the peasant girl on the pretext of asking her which road he ought to follow, and contrived to enter into conversation with her. He found that she was as intelligent in conversation as she was attractive in appearance. Henceforth the youthful aristocrat courted the peasant girl with unremitting patience, notwithstanding all the obstacles which were placed in his way. His discovery that she was the daughter of the village washerwoman, Frau Schulz, did not damp his ardour. The meetings of the young couple had to be clandestine, for the Count recognised the impossibility of courting the washerwoman’s daughter in public. Consequently they met in secluded paths of the surrounding forests and wandered arm in arm along unfrequented ways, where they were comparatively safe from observation. lt was impossible, how- ever, that a young man of such distinguished appear- ance, and so well known throughout the neighbour- hood as the young Count, should walk abroad with a pretty peasant girl without sooner or later attracting attention. The first opposi- tion came from the relatives of the girl, whose father heard the rumour that she was keeping company with the young nobleman. Happening to meet the Count on a country road soon afterwards, the sturdy peasant accosted him and said: “ My neighbours tell me that your Serene High- ness haunts the neighbour- hood of my cottage when T am away from home, in order to pay attentions to my daughter Anna. I do not want any fine gentle- man pursuing my daugh- ter, who is a good girl and will marry a man in her own station of life. I must, therefore, beg your Serene Highness to be good enough to cease your atten- tions to my daughter, and not to turn her head by flatteries, but to leave her in peace.” Count Francis Erasmus, who was considerably dis- concerted by this unexpected attack, replied that he was deeply in love with the girl and that he saw no reason why he should not continue to see her. A scene occurred, in the midst of which Anna’s brother appeared to back up his father. More words ensued, and finally the two sturdy peasants seized the young aristocrat, dragged him into an adjoining shrubbery, and there administered to him the soundest thrash- ing which their, muscular, a@rmsQwere capable of

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THE LOVE OF COUNT inflicting. Undaunted by this chastisement, however, Count Francis Erasmus continued to woo the peasant girl; and Anna Schulz, who was very much in love with her handsome and high-born admirer, repudiated all responsibility for her rela- tives’ violence and continued to meet her lover in the forest, though they took more care to keep their meetings secret. Matters continued thus for nearly two years, the Count meeting the peasant girl as often as he came from the University to spend his vaca- tions at home, and as months went by the people of the neighbourhood began to gossip more and more about his romantic attachment. The story of the thrashing administered to the Count by the girl’s father and brother also began to be whispered about, and lost nothing in repetition. The result was that Count Francis Erasmus’s father, the reigning Count, heard of the affair and demanded explana- tions from his son. A violent quarrel ensued, in the course of which Count Francis Erasmus informed his infuriated parent that he was fully determined to marry the washerwoman’s daughter as soon as he came of age. On this occasion Count Francis Erasmus, who was then within a few weeks of his twenty-first birthday, received his second thrashing in connection with his romantic love affair. His father lost control of his temper to such an extent that he seized the nearest horsewhip and belaboured the obstinate son with the butt-end. During the whole period of her attachment to the young Count, Anna Schulz continued to work in her mother’s little village laundry, and could be seen standing before the washtub, mangling or ironing the linen, or hanging the clothes on a line in the garden, from early morning till evening. She was a hard-working, honest girl, and nothing could be said against her except that she loved a man far above her in rank and station, a cir- cumstance which excited both the suspicion and envy otf her fellow-villagers as well as the anger and resentment of her own parents. Count Francis Erasmus had to face many other obsiacles to his intended mésalliance. All the members of the Erbach family agreed among ERBACH. 39 “THEY ADMINISTERED TO HIM THE SOUNDEST THRASHING WHICH THEIR MUSCULAK ARMS WERE CAPABLE OF INFLICTING.” themselves not to speak to him or to recognise him as a relative until he gave a solemn pledge to abandon his matrimonial project. He was boycotted, not only by his own relatives, but by the members of the other aristocratic families in the neighbourhood. On two occasions this social boycott involved the self-willed young nobleman in duels with other young aristocrats, whose neglect to treat him with the ordinary marks of respect irritated him to such an extent that he challenged them to combat. One duel was fought with a certain Baron Gablenz and the other with a Count Buchwaldt. The first duel was fought with swords, and Count Francis Erasmus, who had become most proficient in the use of this weapon at Bonn, disabled his antagonist by a wound on the right arm. The other duel, with Count Buchwaldt, was fought under the most severe conditions. The combatants took up their stand opposite one another at a distance of fifteen paces, and it was agreed that they should exchange shots with pistols until one of them was disabled. In this case again Count Francis Erasmus emerged from the encounter, as( -vigtor, yhaying disabled his

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40 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “ME DISABLED HIS OPPONENT BY A WELL-DIRECTED SHOT.” opponent by a well-directed shot which lodged in the right shoulder. The social boycott, how- ever, which continually extended, caused him much inconvenience and annoyance, and at times made life almost unbearable. But never for one moment did he waver in his devotion to the washerwoman’s pretty daughter. As soon as he had attained his majority—in December, 1904—Count Francis Erasmus began to consider definite plans for marrying Anna Schulz. In his own neighbourhood he found the obstacles to be insurmountable. In Germany a multitude of documents ate necessary before a marriage can be solemnized, and the young Count was unable to obtain the necessary papers. He was also unable to find a clergy- man who was willing to marry him to the washerwoman’s daughter. He soon decided that the marriage could be arranged in England with less difficulties than elsewhere. Early one morning he walked out of the ancestral castle and announced that he was going ona hunting expedi- tion, so that he would not return home until late at night. An hour afterwards he met Anna Schulz at an appointed place in the forest and proceeded with her toa village a few miles away, where a motor-car awaited the fugitives. Mounting the automo- bile they sped off in the direction of the French frontier, which was only some hundred and _ fifty miles distant. Count Francis Erasmus chose this method of secret flight be- cause he feared that if his design were prematurely discovered the powerful influence of his father might cause forcible measures to be taken for his detention. Before sun- set the lovers had crossed the French frontier and proceeded by train to Paris, whence they proceeded to London. Here, after a residence of three weeks, they were able to be mar- tied by special licence. As soon as he reached London the Count in- formed his father of his intention, and in the intervening three weeks he was submitted to great pressure to abandon his design. A special emissary of the Erbach family came across to London and sought to dissuade him by all possible means from his intention of marrying the plebeian peasant girl. This emissary was present at the wedding and telegraphed the news of the family disaster to the reigning Count. The “House Laws” of the Erbach family, which have been in force for the last five hundred years, provide that the head of the house may disinherit any male Erbach who Marries a woman not of proper rank. ‘The reigning Count, on receiving the news of the mésalliance contracted in London, called a family council to consider the question of the succession. Without any ado whatever this family council resolvéd. that; /Gount Francis

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THE LOVE OF COUNT ERBACH., 4t “A MOTOR-CAR AWAITED THE FUGITIVES.’ Erasmus must be disinherited and regarded as a social outlaw. The council then proceeded to decide who should be nominated as successor to the family title and estates in his place, and this question presented some difficulties. Two of the reigning Count’s younger brothers had both contracted morganatic marriages, so that their sons were excluded from the suc- cession. His third brother is only five years younger than himself, and is mar- ried to a Princess of Bentheim- Tecklenburg. Their eldest son, Count Conrad, aged twenty-four, has already made a morganatic marriage, so that he, too, was in- eligible. Consequently the choice of the family council fell on the reigning Count’s nephew, Count Eberhard, aged nineteen, who will thus, on the death of the present reigning Count, succeed to that position. Count Francis Erasmus, the husband of the washerwoman’s daughter, has been reduced to an annual allowance of two hundred pounds. By his marriage he has sacrificed not only one of the foremost positions in Europe, but Val. svi! COUNT EBERHAKD, WHO WILL SUCCEED TO THE ERBACH TITLE AND ESTATES OWING TO THE MORGANATIC MARRIAGE OF COUNT FRANCIS. From a Photo. also an annual income estimated at two hundred thousand pounds. Questioned on his return from London by a newspaper interviewer, Count Francis Erasmus said :— “My relatives have offered me an allowance of four thousand marks a year, but only on condition that I renounce my rank and abandon the name of Erbach. I have no intention of accepting their offer on this condition ; I intend to remain a Count Erbach and to reject their money. They can disinherit me so far as the pro- perty is concerned, but they can- not rob me of my own name. I do not for a moment regret the step I have taken; on the contrary, we are perfectly happy. I intend to work for my living, and I have already taken steps to find employment. I am not sure yet what form of work I shall obtain, but I believe I shall choose the newspaper field. After undergoing a course of training in a newspaper office in Germany, I hope to go to Paris or\Lendon as) thé correspondent of a leading German newspaper.”

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SHOWING HIM ROUND. By James Barr. The author, while a reporter at Detroit, Michigan, undertook to show a friend from Bngland something of the seamy side of his work. The demonstration, as such, was a complete success, but neither Mr. Barr nor his companion had any wish to repeat the lurid experience of the night. OOKING back on my career as f “criminal” on an American daily newspaper, I remember a great many Wm) exciting episodes in which I was = mixed up, but none more discon- certing and ludicrous than the part an English friend and I played in the “ pulling ” of a dance- hall and gambling-house down in the “bad lands” of the city of Detroit, Michigan. 1 desired to show my friend something that he could not see every day; and at the end of the experience, as we stood rubbing our bruises and sympathizing with one another, he acknow- ledged that he had had his money’s worth, with compound interest added. I ruefully agreed. I met Lloyd-on my first trip across the Atlantic. We shared a cabin on the City of Chicago, flagship of the Inman line, he having been to the far north of Canada making a collec- tion of skins of birds for natural history museums in England. In our cabin were two roomy trunks full of rare skins, which he kindly showed to me ; and at the end of the voyage, as we shook hands, he asked me to; visit him at his place in the West coun- try. Although I lived in England for two years I neglected to take advan- tage of his kind invitation. On my returning to Ame- rica, Mr. Harris, the editor, gave me the position of “criminal” on the Detrott Tribune, then the leading Republican newspaper of the State of Michigan. “What is a ‘crimi- nal’?” the reader will ask. Well, he is the reporter responsible to the newspaper for accounts of all crime, fires, and accidents in the city and surrounding districts. He is a peculiarly privileged member of the staff, insomuch as no superior but the editor dictates to him, and the editor very seldom. He is his own task-master; he slave-drives _ himself. All that is required of him in each morning’s paper is a full and effective account of yesterday's crime, from murder to maltreating a mule; of accidents, from a railway collision to the running over of a pet poodle ; and details of every fire. He is expected to know every soul in the city, from the burglar to the bishop, and to be “hail fellow well met!” with each one of them; he must have cheeks of brass, be abso- lutely sober, and ever on the alert. Then, if good fortune is always with him, he may make a passable “ criminal.” One evening I sat in my office doing nothing, and doing it well. The day had been a flat one in my line. The assistant “criminal,” who kept a watchful eye over the city during the day, had reported to me at five o’clock in the evening. From that hour I shouldered responsibilities till the paper went to press at four next morning. Just as I was about to start out on my rounds “A GENTLEMAN ENTERED MY OFFICE.” to call at police-stations, fire head-quarters, acci- dent hospitals, and jails, a gentleman entered my office. I was astounded to recognise my Atlantic acquaintance, Lloyd. Lloyd was again on his way to the north, he told me, but had broken his journey to spend a few days in and about Detroit with, friends, -yHaving after three years so unexpectedly met again, I proposed

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SHOWING HIM ROUND. 43 that he should come with me and see a “criminal” at work. He agreed, and the two of us were soon dodging about the city. I will pass over our ordinary adventures and come to that which left vivid impressions on our minds and livid impressions on our bodies. It was getting late by the time we reached Gratiot Avenue police-station. Detroit is built on the plan of a wheel, the city hall acting as the hub from which, like spokes, radiate broad avenues. This Gratiot Avenue is one of the spokes, and between it and the river lay the “tough ” part of the city, a wicked, ruffianly, drunken, dangerous part twenty years ago. Lloyd had seen much that was interesting to him but was commonplace to the “criminal.” I was anxious that he should see something out of the common even to “criminals,” and I knew it would be found up Gratiot Avenue or no- where. So to Gratiot Avenue—now nearly de- serted, all yood people being in bed—we made our way and_ entered police head-quarters for that district. ‘The ser- geant in charge was de- lighted to have the mono- tony of the night broken by visitors. After intro- ducing Lloyd I said :— “See here, sergeant ; it’s a pity to let a man who has come all the way from England escape with- out showing him some- thing that will make him remember the finest city in the world. If you don’t do something he may go back thinking that London is as great as Detroit. That’s the danger.” The sergeant scratched his head and mused. “That will never do at all at all,” said the sergeant, in tones slightly indicative of remote association with Ireland. One and all the police were Irish. “Well, that’s the danger that confronts us,” I said. “Is there not some abuse of the laws of this State going on that requires peremptory suppression ?” “The city’s as peaceable as a sleeping child,” said the sergeant, ruefully. ‘All we have to do is to sit before the fire and spind the huge salary THE AUTHOR, MR. JAMES BAKR. From a Sketch by F. G. Matthews. they give us for the taking of it. It’s my honest opinion that every soul in Detroit has taken a pledge to abstain for ever from liquor, wrong- doing, and police magistrates.” “You see, sergeant,” said I, “that rather puts me in a hole. I have been telling my friend that this is a pretty ‘wide-open’ town, full of revolvers and sudden deaths, and I have im- pressed on him that it takes a brave man to hold the position of ‘criminal,’ not to mention that of sergeant.” The officer was troubled. He recognised that it was a case in which something out of the ordi- nary was due. He began to pace the station in deep thought. Presently he raised his voice. “ Moike! Moike!” he bellowed. From an inner room there issued forth a tall policeman who rubbed drowsiness out of his eyes with the back of his great right hand. “What the divil’s the matter now, sergeant?” he growled. “Wake up, Moike! Here’s a gentleman from England come to pay us a visit.” Mike nodded to me and glared at Lloyd ; he was not a great lover of England. The sergeant, in a few words, explained the situation to him. Mike shook his head to express his helplessness. I feared we had happened on a very Sahara of a night. However, things were to happen. The sergeant paused in his stride. “Moike,” he said, “what about the place down on Fort Street East ?” Now, Fort Street East was about tke worst street in all the city. It cheered me greatly to hear its name mentioned. But Mike shook his head. “ Ah, bedad, it’s hardly roipe yit, sergeant,” he said. “Roipe! Roipe, do you say?” exclaimed the sergeant, impatiently. ‘We can’t keep an English gentleman waiting while things roipen. I think he'll find all roipe enough to please him on Fort Street, although they might not be quite ready to drop off the branches.”

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44 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Mike shrugged his shoulders. For some mo- ments the ser- geant stood un- decided, then quickly prepared for the street. “Til clap my eyes on the place,” he said to Mike, and, turn- ing, invited us to accompany him. I rang up. the Tribune office on the telephone, telling them that I was on the track of an im- portant piece of news, and asking that a look-out should be kept for ordinary matters, as I could not say when I should be free. This done, the three of us plunged down into the low quarters of Detroit's East-end, while the bells were chiming midnight. Our way lay towards the river, penetrating a region well known to all Detroit criminals, actual and reportorial. In those days a sub- stantial proportion of all the crimes committed in a rather free city occurred in that part. It was no place for a lone man with money on him to wander in, day or night, particularly night. However, we had a police-sergeant with us, and were therefore unafraid. We passed along dark streets running between frame-houses in all stages of dilapidation, skirting low-down drinking-places which should have been closed, and stumbling over broken sidewalks. At last we came opposite a large, square, two-storey frame-building. It looked like a drill-shed, and its heavy door was shut close. Every window was tightly covered by board shutters; never- theless in half-a-dozen places little slits of light slid out into the darkness, disclosing the fact that, notwithstanding its uninviting exterior, the place was well lighted within. That there were plenty of people inside was made manifest by the sounds of many feet sliding and gliding to music played by a few fiddles. Standing on the opposite side of the street and looking at the forbidding place, the sergeant told us that it had been opened some weeks before, and that upstairs it was a dance-hall frequented by “toughs,” and downstairs a gambling and drink- ““1F YOU LIKE, I'LL TAKE YOU IN,’ HE SAID, OFFHAND.” ing saloon. As yet no great trouble had sprung from the place, but, as the sergeant philo- sophically said, trouble was bound to come, and sometimes it was good policy to meet trouble half way, because you prevented it getting up full steam and bowling you over. “If you like, I'll take you in,” he said, offhand. “ Have you an entrée?” asked Lloyd. “T don’t know what you mean by the en/rée,” | said the sergeant, “ but if it’s can I go in, I don’t wait for extrée or nothing when I wish to go into any place in this city. We'll just step over.” We stepped. The sergeant ran his eye over the heavy door, and it seemed to meet with his approval. He was a man who believed in doing things thoroughly, and here before him appeared a good example of how to keep unwelcome visitors from bumping in. With his knuckle he ad- ministered a definite rap on the door. He had not long to wait for an answer. ‘The shoving back of a board revealed an opening in the door ona level with, and about as big as, a man’s face. At this there appeared the bullet head of an ex-prize-fighter, who may be described as “well known to the police.” He too was an Irishman. “ Halloa, Pat! You in charge?” exclaimed the sergeant. “T am that,” said the prize-fighter, grimly. “What do you want here ?” “Tm showing a couple of friends round, and thought we'd walk through and see how things were going.” FO 0Q IC

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SHOWING HIM ROUND. 45 “Oh, yiz did, did yiz? Well, think again, for you’re not coming in here while I’m alive.” “You must be going to die with great sudden- ness, Pat, for I’m coming in this very minute,” laughed the sergeant. “T’m in for a long life, sergeant, so go away with yiz and don’t make throuble,” said the pugilist, contemptuously slamming the board in the sergeant’s face. The sergeant stood aghast at this treatment. Such an occurrence had not happened often in his career in the force. Without a moment’s hesitation he put his shoulder to the door— more, I think, with the intention of estimating the strength of the barricade than with the intention of forcing it. The door sagged in considerably. Evidently it was not so strong as it appeared. Again the pugilist’s face appeared at the opening, scowling out upon us. “Kape your shoulders where they belong, now I warn yiz,” he ordered, menacingly. This time he did not close the shutter, but kept his eye sarcastically on the sergeant. The sergeant’s blood was up in an instant. “I'll show you where my shoulders belong,” he said, and, swinging his body on one foot, he flung himself with all his might against the door. An instant before the collision the pugilist deftly slipped the bolt, with the result that the sergeant, meeting with no resistance, fell headlong into the hall. Nimble asa cat the pugilist sprang into position, and as the prone man attempted to scramble to his feet the ruffian hit him two “THE RUFPIAN HIT HIM TWO TREMENDOUS BLOWS ON THE FACE, KNUCKING HIM HURTLING OUT UPON THE PAVEMENT.” tremendous blows on the face, knocking him hurtling out upon the pavement with a most disastrous crash. They were murderous blows, vindictively administered, and for some moments the officer lay as if stunned. “Perhaps yiz will come in again widout being invoited,” said the pugilist, leering out at the dazed officer, whom Lloyd and I were assisting to his feet. The sergeant made no reply, but as soon as he could walk started off up the street, the ruffian calling out to him sarcastically, “ Any time yiz is passing dhrop in like yiz did just now!” Dotted all over the city at street corners were cylindrical sentry-boxes, containing a telephone connected with the police station, to which the police resorted in cases of emergency. The door of one of these the sergeant flung open. “Moike,” he said, “I’ve been thrown out. My face is knocked in. Call out the boys, every one of them, and come on the run.” As the three of us stood there the sergeant uttered not a word. From being a matter of curiosity the situation had suddenly developed a very serious side. Down Fort Street East way the “thugs” and “toughs” ran matters pretty well to their own liking, bolstered up as they were by the corrupt, venal representatives they elected to the various governing bodies of the city, county, and state. But battering a police-sergeant was rather overstepping the rights even those electors had usurped. The police of Detroit were not the sort to. run crying for help to any justice or judge. ‘There and then the little question of supremacy as be- tween the police and the marauders, gamblers, foot-pads, swindlers, and_ evil- doers in general would be settled — for that particular night at least. Long before we caught a glimpse of them we heard assist- ance coming to us at the double-quick. Mike was the first to arrive, bringing with him about a dozen constables, and for the next ten minutes other constables joined, us from every point of the compass,

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46 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. having been called from bed and beat. There was neither talk nor consultation. ‘The sergeant and his lieutenant, Mike, strode off in silence, we two civilians following with a throng of constables swinging along at our heels. “If you object to your hair standing on end, now's your chance to break away and dash for your hotel,” I whispered to Lloyd. “ Fur is bound to fly to-night.” “Do they intend to arrest the prize-fighter ?” he asked. “JT don’t think so. If I read the signs aright this is a punitive expedition, not a preliminary parade previous to the appearance before a Magistrate. I imagine that within the next half- hour the sergeant’s account with the pugilist will be closed. Anyhow, you can take it from me that the police are going into that hall. More- over, whoever is thrown out it won’t be the sergeant again.” When we came within sight of the building | the sergeant turned to the two of us and asked: “Are you coming in with us, or would you rather stay outside ?” I left it to Lloyd, who, without hesitation, answered :-— “ Certainly we'll go in with you, sergeant.” “Very well. Now, I advise you to keep close behind me, and don’t allow yourselves to become mixed with the crowd, for in the scrimmage there'll be just two parties, the police and the public, and for to-night at any rate you'll not want the public with you.” Having delivered this warning the sergeant strode on. The police knew by intuition what was expected of them. A swarm of them leaped silently over the board fence which surrounded the building. Under each window two constables took their stand ; at the sides and back door gathered little knots of four or five. A dozen or more surrounded the sergeant and waited till those in the yard had time to take their posi- tions. We heard the shuffle of the dancing feet, heard scraps of music and saw the lights ; the little episode of half an hour ago had not reached the ears of the festive patrons of the house, otherwise there would have been a stampede while there still remained the chance of escaping with whole heads. Now that chance had flown Leaving his men in the shadow the sergeant walked quietly up to the door and knocked. Lloyd and I followed at his heels. ‘The pugilist’s face grinned at the opening. “Ts it more yiz wants that yer back so soon ? I thought I had given yiz enough for wan night,” he sneered. “T have had quite enough, thank you— perhaps a little more than enough,” snapped the sergeant. “This time I have come to take a stroll through your place.” “T have told yiz already that yiz can’t come in here to-night. Now make aff and don’t throuble me again.” With that the pugilist closed the shutter, and the sergeant motioned his men to approach. On tip-toe they assembled at the door and, at a signal, simultaneously hurled their weight against it. The door cracked and snapped and bulged inwards, but did not completely give. Instantly we heard a wild shout for help, evidently raised by the pugilist. This was followed by great confusion downstairs and a hushing of all voices aloft in the dance-hall. Again the police threw themselves against the door, and at the third assault the obstruction was wrenched from its heavy hinges and fell crashing into the hall. With a rush, each man with his heavy truncheon in his right hand, the constables leaped over the fallen barricade to take pos ion of the place. However, it was not to be carried in one rush, and they were quickly brought to a halt. In the centre of the hall stood the pugilist, a veritable Hercules, possessed of a bit of scantling, with which he laid about him on every hand regardless of life and limb. By his side were a dozen other reckless characters armed with cudgels and chairs, all eager for the chance of battering a policeman. ‘The two forces came in contact with a chaotic clash. Instantly one of the weirdest, wildest scenes [ ever beheld was being enacted —a_ hard, stand-up fight for possession of the hall, every man laying about him for all he was worth. ‘The sergeant was in the thick of it, fighting like a Richard the Lion Heart, and bellowing encouragement to his men. I feared that revolvers would come into play, for on such occasions neither con- stable nor “thug” hesitates to “pull a gun,” but to-night all appeared to be too much taken up with club-play to think of shooting. Lloyd and I pressed as close to the police as we could without interfering with the freedom of their actions. My friend was wildly excited. ‘This seemed to him to beat big-game shooting all to Pieces. e While this battle-royal was going on in the entry, panic had scized upon the denizens of gambling-rooms and dance-hall. Not a man of them, or a woman either, desired to come face to face with the police. Gallantry was thrown to the winds in the eagerness to escape, men jostling the women out of the way regardless of entreaties for assistance. Men vaulted through windows and doors into the outer darkness, but those about to follow the first that leaped heard the crack! crack ~of, policemen’s bludgeons

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SHOWING HIM ROUND. 47 striking upon flesh and bone, and the howl of pain and surprise emitted by the astonished fugitives. There was now no need to look before you leaped—the ominous sounds told an all too plain tale. No male was to escape from that building without carrying away with him a smart souvenir of his visit. The pugi- list’s present of a black eye to the sergeant had made the souvenir a cer- tainty, so the trapped revellers cowered back into thehallandawaited developments. They must have spent a very miser- able ten minutes of it, for they knew that every window and door was guarded, and that sooner or later they must run the gauntlet of batons. However, they pre- ferred to take their chances ina general rush for the street, rather than drop out of the window to receive one by one the un- divided attention of two vigilant constables. Meanwhile in the hall the police were gradually getting the upper hand. Half-a- dozen of the defenders lay stunned upon the floor, and the pugilist, bleeding but still defiant, was retreating up the stairs, his face to the foe - and his most valiant followers by his side. The door leading to the gambling tables was thus left unguarded, and half the sergeant’s force burst headlong into the room and set about the occupants. The gamblers, at length forced to fly, rushed for the doors, and passed out to the sound of a volley of baton-blows, or else leaped through the windows to take what was awaiting them and to trust, by unprecedented agility, to escape lightly. But few managed that; each came in for his share of lusty blows. All this time Lloyd and I had got on famously. He was seeing, for the first time in “A HARD, STAND-UP FIGHT FOR POSSESSION OF THE HALL.” his life, a house “ pulled” in the best American style, and every blow made “copy” for me. Alas! Fate grinned and kept its eye on us— our time was coming. It was the constables who cleared the ground floor who brought trouble upon our heads. It hap- pened that they finished the job at the very moment the sergeant and his men burst upon the upper-floor dancers and com- menced to drive the people down the stairs at the back of the hall. Hastening to the assistance of their Officer, the police- men rushed from the gambling-room for the stairs, from which the pugilist had just been driven, and, as luck would have it, came upon me fol- lowing in the wake of their victorious comrades. Either the first constable did not know me, or in the dim light he failed to recog- nise me. Anyway, imagining that I had escaped from the room and was now enjoying the discomfort of my companions, he pounced upon me like a wolf upon a hare. My first intimation of trouble came in the form of a staggering blow on the broad of the back, and before I could yell “Reporter!” I was being whirled down- Stairs, each constable as he passed me to the next below giving me one lusty swipe with his baton. I tried to shout “ Reporter !” but I had all I could do to get my breath between the thwacks that fell upon my poor carcass. I felt as if I was in the focus of a cyclone, with lightning striking me at every spin. Reaching a door, 1 was seized by a lusty constable, who, heading me in the required direction, gave me one mighty kick which hfted me over the pave- ment and landed me in the middle of the street, I remembér ‘sitting jthere with my legs

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48 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. stretched wide, my palms in the dust, and my head swung over my shoulder, indignantly shouting :— “Are you sure you're quite through with me?” I was angry, savagely angry, and sore from head to heels. For a few moments I sat in the middle of the street, and my sympathies were entirely with the escaping ruffians and against the police. I hoped neither Lloyd nor the sergeant had witnessed my exit ; that would add substantially to my mortification. I concluded that I had contributed quite enough towards the edification of my guest without turning myself into a laughing-stock. Finally I got upon my feet and, rubbing my head and limbs ruefully, took up a position where, free from further danger, I could observe the multitude pouring from a side door to receive their chastisement. All on a sudden I heard the smashing of glass. Glancing up, 1 beheld a shapeless bundle of humanity break through a closed window and hurtle out into the night, giving vent to a wild cry as it came whirling down from aloft. Down it fell, striking upon the roof of a small outhouse built against the side of the main building. Bouncing like a thing of rubber off this, the bundle finally landed upon the ground with a heavy thud. I craned my neck to see what it was. There followed a few seconds of silence ; then out upon the night air floated a chain of unreportable words. At the first syllable I recognised the voice of my friend Lloyd. Leaping the fence I stood beside him. Both his hands gripped the long grass. “Halloa!” I exclaimed, for want of something more intelligent to say. “Can I fall any farther?” he asked, dully, with- out looking up at me. “T don’t think so. Do you want to?” He shook his head. “Not to-night,” he muttered. “ Lucky for you we that hen-shed was there to break your fall,” I remarked. “Oh, everything’s full of luck to-night,” he growled. ‘ Lucky that blow only cut open my head instead of braining me ; lucky my back- bone’s only driven up into the base of my skull instead of me being quite dead ; lucky I only fell upon this sun-baked ground instead of into a coal-mine ; lucky——” He paused abruptly. “T say, is there a train out of this town ready to start, do you know?” It turned out that the constable who had found me on the stairs had discovered Lloyd close behind the sergeant’s back and promptly laid on to him with his baton. Lloyd, forgetting who he was, sprang round to strike, and the next instant the policeman threw him neatly and cleanly through the nearest window, to fight anything he could find outside. There were no half measures going that myht. When the last bruised and bleeding patron of that hall had hobbled into oblivion, and the constables stood wiping the perspiration from the inside of their helmets, the sergeant looked down upon the two of us, saying, genially :— “Ts there anything else that I can show you before you go back to chum it with the crowned heads of Europe ?” “Bedad! It isn’t crowned heads he’s after ; it’s court-plaster,” said a facetious constable. Lloyd and I limped back to the Zribune office, where we dolefully shook hands and parted, since when I have never seen or heard of him. CAN I FALI. ANY FARTHER?’ HE. ASKED, (DULLY.™

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ON THE HIGH SEAS: A Budget of Marine Romances. By H. L. Apam. The stay-at-home authority will sometimes tell you that the days of sea romance are over. there are still strange and almost incredible things happening day by day on the ocean. Nevertheless, This remarkable series—compiled with the assistance of Lloyd’s and the leading shipping companies—gives a selection of such accurrences--real life dramas of the ocean more absorbing than novelist ever conceived. ARLY on the morning of July rst yg) ast year a native of the little island ag of Utilla, while strolling along the Lae me beach, noticed a small boat, known as a “dory,” drifting shorewards bottom upwards. It was naturally an object calculated to claim more than passing attention, and the native paused in his walk, with his eyes fixed upon the slowly approaching derelict. Shading his eyes with his hand from the glare of the sun, he waited for the boat to land. Finally it was thrown upon the beach, and there left high and dry by the receding wave. The watcher thereupon laid hold of it and, assisted by one or two others who had by this time joined him, succeeded in dragging the craft a short distance up the beach. This done, they turned it over and proceeded to examine it. The scrutiny, however, did not enlighten them much, though they discovered the name O/ympia painted on the stern of the dory. The news of the finding of this boat soon spread through the settlement, and it was not long before quite a crowd of persons gathered upon the beach. The little West Indian island of Utilla is situated not far from the coast of Honduras, and the inhabitants carry on a fairly prosperous trade in cattle and fruit, both with the neighbouring islands and the mainland. Among those upon the beach was a Mr. Malcolm Morgan, who acted as agent on the island for the firm of S. Oteri and Co., large traders in fruit. When Morgan saw the name on the boat he shook his head gravely. ‘The previous day, June 3oth, it appeared, a small schooner named the Olympia, of fifty tons burden, had sailed from Utilla, bound for Truxillo and Honduras. All told, there were thirteen persons on board, consisting of the captain, a crew of four, and eight passengers. Among the latter were Mrs. Walter Rose, with her infant, six weeks old, and her sister, Miss Elsie Morgan. These two ladies were cousins of the Malcolm Morgan already mentioned. Mrs. Rose was returning to her home at Ruatan, where her husband had a store. ‘The skipper of the Olympia had vith him a considerable amount of money—seven hundred dollars—with which he intended to buy cattle at Truxillo, to trade at Honduras. Pretty nearly Vol. xvii.—-7. ‘ fixedly into the bushes. everybody in the settlement knew of this, for the whole population of Utilla numbers well under a thousand, and everyone seems to know everybody else’s business, as is usual in small communities. Not long after the discovery of the boat the attention of the watchers on the beach was directed to a mysterious object in the sea, floating towards them. It was bobbing up and down, appearing and disappearing, but nobody could determine what it was. Suddenly there was an excited cry: “It’s a body!” It was the voice of Malcolm Morgan. Some torturing thoughts had been passing through his mind, and as though in confirmation of these a tiny corpse was presently washed up upon the sand. Several men rushed into the water and drew it forth. It was the body of an infant, almost naked. Malcolm Morgan gazed upon it with a look of horror, for he recognised the poor little mite to be Mrs. Rose’s baby ! The excitement in Utilla now bordered on frenzy. Still the question was asked on all ‘hands, “What has happened to the O/vmpia?” and still no definite reply was forthcoming. ‘That something terrible had occurred was only too painfully clear, but what had been the nature of the catastrophe? Nobody could say, nobody dared to guess. Finally it was decided to organize an extensive search along the seashore for some distance on either side of the spot where the boat and body had been cast ashore, the assembled natives splitting up into small parties and setting forth in various directions. One of these parties was headed by Mr. Malcolm Morgan, and made a systematic search amongst the undergrowth of the beach. For some hours they sought in vain for anything that would tend to relieve their anxiety, when suddenly a woman, who had wandered on some distance ahead of the party, stopped and gazed The next moment she turned towards the others and, with an expres- sion of alarm upon her face, beckoned frantically to them to advance. Without loss of time they obeyed the summons. When they arrived at the spot where the woman stood, the latter pointed excitedly into the bush. Following the direction of her outstretched finger they beheld a sight

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50 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. which set their hearts beating wildly. A young woman, in a pitiable condition, was seen crouch- -ing in a place of hiding. Her face was livid, her eyes distended with alarm, and her person sparsely clothed. Upon beholding her Morgan uttered a cry of horror, and dashed towards the trembling girl. “Elsie!” he burst out. “ What has happened, child? Good heavens! What has happened ?” The others gathered round, looks of mingled alarm and commiscration on their faces. It was some time ere the poor girl was able to speak, so intense had been her sufferings, both mental and physical. It was little to be wondered at that Morgan was greatly moved at what he beheld, for in that shrinking, hapless, terror-stricken figure he had recognised his young cousin, Elsie Morgan ! Stimulants having been administered to her, Miss Morgan was able to relate in brief outline the grim story of her sufferings, the hideous details of which she subsequently filled in when safely ensconced in her home in the settlement. It is little exaggeration to say that this story set the inhabitants of Utilla aflame with a thirst for vengeance, and there arose from the little com- munity such an ominous growl of rage as boded ill for the villainous object of their resentment. But let us hark back and follow the course of the tragic events which transpired upon the ill- fated Olympia On the evening of June 3oth the little schooner was lying at the wharf at Utilla. When it wanted but an hour to the time of sailing the figure of a huge negro, apparently carrying something beneath his coat, cautiously ap- proached the vessel and, under cover of the darkness, stealthily crept along the gangway and disappeared from view. This intrusion was in no way challenged, nor indeed did it seem that the stranger’s presence was remarked by any- body on or near the vessel. An_-hour later —about eleven o’clock —-all being aboard, the Olvmpia set sail on her short though eventful voyage, from which she was fated never to return. Midnight came, and the schooner was but a little way out from Utilla. — Profound silence reigned throughout the ves- sel and upon the surrounding deep —a silence broken only by the lapping of the water against the Olympia’s bows. She lay almost becalmed, the lightest of breezes playing over her idle sails. The wheel was lashed and there did not appear to be a soul on deck. As a matter of fact, at that moment everybody on board was below, a circumstance which not infrequently happens in the case of small craft on the high seas, and attended with an element of considerable danger. The captain was in his cabin, the crew were in the forccastle, and the passengers were in their berths or bunks, while the little schooner drifted idly onwards. Had there been eyes other than the myriads which spangled the firmament to gaze upon that doomed vessel they would at this stage have observed a peculiar thing happen. Slowly there appeared above the companion-way a head, a human head with a coal-black visage, lit by a pair of staring, wolfish eyes. Cautiously the head was protruded, the eyes. cast a searching glance to right and left, and then slowly and silently the head descended and disappeared. A few minutes later the stillness was rudely pierced by the sharp crack.of.a rifle, and the “‘eusie!' He BURST OUT ‘WHAT HAS HAPPENED!’

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 51 next moment the figure of a stalwart negro, carrying in his hand a Winchester rifle, darted up the companion-way. Going a few feet aft, he dropped on one knee and raised the rifle to his shoulder, taking steady aim at the entrance of the companion-way. From the latter there issued a babel of alarmed voices and the sound of hastening footsteps. The figure of a man appeared at the top of the com panion-way, the rifle cracked, and the new-comer fell in a heap on the deck. Another man sprang up from below, the rifle spoke again, and he, too, dropped and lay motionless. A third sailor ap- peared, again the rifle cracked, and the poor fellow staggered and fell. And so the butchery continued until the deck was strewn with dead and dying. The fiend with the rifle had evi- dently taken careful toll of his victims, for he ceased firing when one of the men put his head out, trembling with fright, and begged the murderer to spare his life. The negro knew that this was the last man left uninjured on the vessel, other than himself. He held a short parley with this man, and con- sented to spare him if he would go below and scuttle the vessel. This the poor wretch agreed to do, and disappeared below for the purpose. In the meantime the negro kept a keen watch on the companion-way, his fingers . still clutching his rifle. When 3 at length the terrified sailor re- appeared, and while the words “Its done!” were still upon his lips, a report once more broke che silence, and with a groan the unfortunate man fell dead. The captain lay dead in his cabin, with his pockets rifled. ‘There now remained on board besides the negro only Mrs. Rose, her infant, and her sister, Miss Morgan. These two women lay trembling with fright in their bunks, listening to the firing overhead. To them eventually came. the murderer. He unceremoniously ordered them, as the vessel was sinking, to pre- pare to leave it with him in the boat. He added that they need have no fear, that he would not harm them. He then returned to the deck and prepared to launch the dory. When the women appeared on deck, Mrs. Rose carrying her infant, they were horrified at the scene of bloodshed that met their gaze. However, the vessel was “AGAIN THE RIFLE CRACKED, AND THE POOR FELLOW STAGGEKED AND FELL.” sinking ra- pidly, and there was no time to be lost. They therefore got into the boat, which the negro launched, and they pushed off from the schooner, leaving her to go to the bottom with her terrible freight. There is no necessity further to conceal the identity of the inhuman monster who perpetrated this wholesale butchery. He wasa negro named Robert McGill, well known in Utilla, the son of a preacher of Ceiba, and had hitherto been regarded as a well-conducted and trustworthy member of the community. He was known to the two women who were in the boat with him, but they naturally feared him in his then infuri- ated condition and pleaded piteously for their lives. But the fiend evidently intended to com- plete his task of extermination, and taking up his rifle, which he had brought with him into the boat, he deliberately shot Mrs. Rose and her infant, casting (their) bodi¢s-overboard. He

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52 THE then fired at Miss Morgan, but only succeeded in wounding her in the arm, whereupon the terrified girl jumped overboard. McGill, now mad with rage, fired several times at her in the water, but missed her each time. It was a most fortunate circumstance for Miss Morgan that she was an expert swimmer. Leaving the boat behind, she struck out in the direction of Utilla. McGill thereupon called upon her, entreat- ing her to return to the boat, and swearing he would not harm her fur- ther. Inasmuch as they were some considerable dis- tance from the shore, and the poor girl's. mind must have been in a terribly distracted state, it is not al together surprising thatshe obeyed this injunction and re- turned towards the boat. When the girl arrived within his reach, this un- speakable monster struck her a stun- ning blow over the head with an oar! With a moan Miss Morgan fell back in the water and, inspired with a sudden idea, feigned death, keeping only her nose above the surface. McGill, thinking he had completed his dreadful work, rowed away. ‘The situation of Miss Morgan was now pitiful enough in all conscience. It is well known that the waters about this part are infested with sharks, and this fact, together with her injured arm and the distance which lay between her and the shore, rendered her condition desperate indeed. That she escaped—and there can be no doubt about this, as I have been in com munication with her at Utilla, and also with the British Consular Agent there—is httle short of miraculous. She explains that, although an expert swimmer, progress was made painful by her injured arm and her generally distressed g WIDE WORLD “THE TERKIFIED GIRL JUMPED OVERBOARD.” MAGAZINE. condition. When tired she obtained partial ease by floating, and continued to swim and float alternately. She must also have received assistance from the incoming tide, which practi- cally washed her at last on to the friendly shore of Utilla. Here she hid in the undergrowth for fear of again falling into the hands of McGill, who, she conjectured, had also landed on the island, and who she knew would stop at nothing in order to silence her. The Olvmpra, no doubt, sank in deep water. When Miss Mor- gan had told her dreadful story search parties were at once dispatched all over the island in search of the murderer McGill, and two days after he was found at a place called El Por- vineer, a little town on the road to Ceiba. He was taken in charge by the authorities and placed in Utilla jail. But this would not satisfy the people, more _ particularly as they were aware that there was no capital punishment cording to the law. They, there- fore, went to the prison in force, overpowered the guard, and dragged the miscreant out. Alternately cursing and whining for mercy, he was tied to a tree and shot. So ended the tragedy of the Olympia, one of the most appalling catastrophes ever brought about for greed of yain—as it was for those miserable seven hundred dollars alone that McGill had ruthlessly taken eleven lives and so nearly a twelfth ! One of the most mysterious marine tragedies of modern times is that associated with the dis- appearance of the steamer C/averdale and of the whole of her crew, concerning whom not a word of information has since been forthcoming. ‘The Claverdale was a well-found, new steamer of four thousand tong, and was fat the time on eke

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ON THE HGH SEAS. 53 her maiden voyage. She was owned by Messrs. L. Hazelhurst and Co., of Billiter House, London, and was manned by a crew of twenty- seven. Her officers were: Captain, H. H. Thomas, of Cardigan ; first mate, D. Llewellyn, of St. Dogmaels, Pembrokeshire ; and second mate, J. Reed, of Swansea. All the remainder of the crew, with the exception of two, were Britishers. During the Russo-Japanese War the Claver- dale was cruising in Eastern waters. In October, 1g04, she called at Hong-Kong, for orders, and there found a charter awaiting her to convey coal to Vladivostock. Inasmuch as this was generally considered to be a blockaded port, the owners agreed to give the crew extra remunera- tion for the additional risk incurred. ‘This the men accepted, and they were given to under- stand that the voyage was expected to last six months. The Claverdale thereupon took on board some thousands of tons of coal, and sailed for Vladivostock. -Time passed, and at length the six months expired, but nothing was heard of the C/averdace, nor was she spoken by any other vessel. It is certain she did not put in an appearance at Vladivostock, nor was she seen anywhere in the vicinity. Month succeeded month and no news was forthcoming, the anxiety of the friends of those on board increasing day by day. Many, though futile, were the speculations entertained concerning the steamer’s fate. Periodically reports gained currency concerning the where- abouts of the vessel. She was supposed to have been sighted in different places and in various ways, which led to the distracted friends of the crew paying visits to the offices of the owners, who were unable either to confirm the reports or to assist the applicants to a solution of the mystery. At one time the C/averdale was supposed to have been lost in the ice; at another to have been seized by the Japanese and the crew taken prisoners and kept on board one of the warships ; but the bottom was destined to be knocked out of both these stories, leaving the problem still unsolved. These fallacious rumours, however, served to inflict severe and unnecessary suffering on the relatives of the missing men. In the meantime the owners were instituting inquiries in all directions, but to no purpose ; and so, at the end of their tether, they had recourse, as usual, to Lloyd’s, seeking the powerful aid of that corporation in the seemingly hopeless task of fathoming the mystery. The Claverdale was accordingly “posted” at the Royal Exchange, in the underwriters’ room, the notice remaining up the stipulated time of about a fortnight without producing any practical result. But, apparently in consequence of the exceptional circumstances of the case, the “ missing” notice was not put up for some considerable time after- wards. When, however, this last step was at length taken, and the Claverda/e had been posted as missing for the regulation period of a week without being heard of, the matter was con- cluded, and the insurance money paid over. Thus far the mystery of the Claverdale’s fate remained an enigma of the profoundest kind. Then, suddenly, more than a twelvemonth after her disappearance, a ray of light shot through the gloom of uncertainty. ‘lhe Vladivostock Salvage Company received an intimation that a vessel, in a derelict condition, had been sighted at a remote spot on the west coast of Japan. The salvage company were sufticiently sausfied with the particulars furnished to fit out an expedition to proceed to the spot indicated, which was in the Gulf of Tartary, about two hundred miles north of Cape Olgi, where they discovered the vessel to be the missing Claver- dale, cast up high and dry on the shore. In due course the following cable was received in London: ‘Expedition reports Claverdale ashore and has become wreck; part of cargo may be saved, about three hundred or five hundred tons of coal. Natives have plundered the wreck of everything movable except anchors, windlass, winches. Salvage operations cannot be commenced until the weather moderates next spring anyhow. ‘The case looks bad; there- fore we recommend the wreck be sold as it lies. Fate of the crew unknown, missing having left in boats and not since heard of.” This pregnant message still left the fate of the crew as uncertain as ever. One of the C/aver- dale’s boats was also found on the coast, which may mean a great deal or nothing. The manager of the firm, in an interview, said that the loss of the C/averda/e was their first mishap with a steamer for a period of something like forty years, and that it was the greatest and most tragic ocean mystery within his knowledge. Pressed for a theory, he said that his own private opinion was that the vessel had been roughly handled by the elements and had finally been flung on shore, where she was boarded by some marauding natives, who made short work of the crew, disposing of the bodies by casting them overboard. The theory held at Lloyd’s is as follows : The Claverda/e, having been caught in a severe storm, became unmanageable, whereupon the crew took to the boats. The latter were cap- sized in the heavy seas and all the occupants drowned. ‘The vessel was subsequently cast on the shore) and> plundered by miarauding natives at their leisure.

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54 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. These, however, are theories only; the sur- prising fact remains that a big steamer, carrying a cargo of inestimable value to either belligerent, must have drifted about the fringe of the war area for some considerable time, unseen and unchallenged. As to the hapless crew, the manner of their end can only be conjectured. ‘Towards the end of a rough and blustering February some twelve years ago the tramp steamer Avchmond, home from the Mediter- ranean, lumbered into the mouth of the ‘Thames and picked her way up the crowded river. It had been an unlucky voyage for her in many ways. ‘The captain had died at sea while the steamer was outward-bound, a heavy loss was likely to be incurred on the cargo, and the Richmond herself, an old ship, would need endless repairs before she could start on a fresh were in such a bad state generally as to necessitate the presence of the managing owner, Captain ‘Thomas Leinster, who came down specially from Newcastle-on-l'yne to meet the steamer on her arrival in London and look mto matters for himself. He spent the greater part of a day on board, going into details with the new skipper and giving him instructions. At last, when everything was finished, he prepared to leave, having, as he said, to catch the night train back to Newcastle. Just as he was about to step on shore, and as a sort of after-thought, he informed the captain that he would have a passenger to the Tyne. He had given the man a pass, he said, as he was anxious to return to Newcastle, and appeared to be rather hard up. He requested the captain to let him have the second mate’s berth aft. With that, and merely adding that the prospec- tive passenger was deaf and dumb, the owner took his departure. The following day, March 1st, somewhere about five o'clock in the afternoon, the deaf and dumb passenger presented himself on board. He was a singular-looking individual in many ways. He had a bushy beard, wore a cloth cap with a peak, and coloured spectacles. — In addition a shawl was wrapped around his neck and shoulders, so that between the shawl and the cap little of his face was to be seen. It was evident that he was quite out of his element on board ship. He could not even distinguish between the captain and the mate. Indeed, he shuffled up to the latter in mistake for the former, and presented his letter of intro- duction. On being motioned towards the skipper, he mumbled apologetically and hastened to-rectify his error. Soon after he came on board the Richmond cast off her moorings and dropped down the river, on her way from the Thames to the Tyne. The captain was soon strongly of opiniun that their mysterious passenger might be deprived of speech, but certainly not of hearing. On a remark being made in his presence touching his affliction, he looked up sharply; and other indications were not wanting which seemed to show that his ears were sharp enough. The black couk was just as strongly of opinion that he was in full possession of both speech and hearing ; for when he knocked at his door next morning with a cup of tea, a lusty voice responded with a clear and distinct “Come in!” During the day this odd and unknown stranger appeared to prefer the seclusion, of his cabin. At night he stole forth from his retreat —presumably for a breath of fresh air—and prowled about the deck in the dark—a solitary, muffled, and mysterious figure. Whether or not he was interested in the construction of a tramp steamer, no one could say; but certainly he peered into every corner of the ship, and was frequently seen hovering in the vicinity of the hold, which seemed to possess some almost magnetic attraction for him. More than one of the crew, who had heard the cook’s story, tried to entrap him into speech as he roamed about the silent and darkened deck. But when addressed by them he emitted the most uncouth and unearthly noises, which had the effect of scaring them away. ‘There was a quantity of esparto grass in the hold, and early on Saturday morning, while it was still dark, this suddenly spouted into flame. The dread word “ Fire !” rang through the ship, and the crew tumbled up on deck in a panic. The fire-hose was quickly brought into play, and under the direction of the captain they fought the flames vigorously. It was a hard struggle, for the esparto grass blazed furiously, and at first it looked as if the Aschmond was doomed to utter destruction. The solitary passenger, it may be mentioned, did not put in an appearance at this critical juncture. Apparently, being ignorant of ocean dangers, he slept the sleep of the just all through. When daylight came the fire had been got partially under control, though it was still raging in the depths of the hold. It was at this stage that a surprising and astounding discovery was made. ‘The outbreak was not accidental—some- one had gone round quietly with a can of paraffin during the night, and had left abundant traces of his handiwork in the vicinity of the hold. Though the steamer was still on fire, no great apprehension was felt for the safety of those on board. ‘The sea was calm, and there were plenty of boats, ‘lhe( captain decided to make for the Tyne at full spead, for) they were now

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 55 apt sat =a = “IT WAS A HARD STRUGGLE, FOR THE ESP: within reasonable distance of their destination. He brought the Achmond in there during the afternoon, practically burnt out, and with smoke still eddying from her hold. Now that the danger was over and the vessel safely berthed, the captain remembered his passenger, who had remained invisible all this time. That mysterious individual was not to be found, however. When search was made for him it was discovered that he had disappeared ; how or when nobody knew. None had seen him leave the ship ; and yet he was gone. By an odd coincidence one of the Richmond's crew, thirsty and blackened after his fight with the fire, adjourned to a waterside public-house ; and there, to his astonishment, he ran across the SS BLAZI owner, Captain Leinster. The latter was seated at a table, grimy, unwashed, shaky, with a liberal supply of brandy before him. ‘The man immediately informed him that the vessel had been burnt at sea, and had just been brought in, little better than a mere shell. The owner took the news calmly enough, for the Richmond was heavily in- sured, said that he would go down and have a look at her next day, and went away. There could be no disputing the damage which the vessel had sustained. The insurance money was duly claimed and duly paid. Captain Leinster netted a con- siderable sum, instead of -incur- ting a loss, as would otherwise have been the case. Very soon, however, strange rumours began to spread. For instance, it was discovered that Leinster had not returned to New- castle on the Wednesday night, the day upon which he inspected the vessel in London. Nor was any- thing seen of him there during the Thursday or Friday following. Not until the Saturday afternoon, soon after the arrival of the steamer and the disappearance of her mysterious passenger, did he turn up; and then it was in the grimy and dis- hevelled state already described. Leinster was eventually arrested and brought up before the magis- trates, when he was called upon to furnish certain explanations, par- ticularly as to the identity of the deaf and dumb passenger. On this point he was decidedly vague. He knew very little about the man, he declared. He had met him by accident in a London restaurant, where he presented him with a letter begging for a free passage to the north. He believed that he was a commercial traveller. All this might, or might not, have been true, but the magistrates appeared to be of opinion that a deaf and dumb commercial traveller was a decided rarity, if not a complete anomaly. As to his own movements on those three important days, Thursday, Friday, and Satur- day, Leinster was equally vague. After leaving the ship to return to Newcastle, he said, he had changed his mind. Instead of journeying home, he had remained. in, London for |the week-end. On Thursday afternoon he determined to run

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56 THE down to Woolwich, reached Cannon Street Station for that purpose, and went into the second-class refreshment-room there. (It was unfortunate for the truth of his tale that there did not happen to be a second-class refresh- ment-room at Cannon Street Station.) Coming out, he fell into bad company, was decoyed away, and taken to a house which he vaguely described as being situated somewhere “in the north of London.” ‘There he fell ill, and had even to send for a doctor. (Here, again, it was unfortunate that he had forgotten the name and address of the medical man who attended him.) On Saturday morning, weak and ill, he took the train home from King’s Cross, reaching New- castle just in time to fall in with the member of the Aichmond’s crew and learn the news of the fire. He was committed for trial, though allowed out on bail. In the interval he borrowed fifty pounds from his obliging sureties — for legal expenses, as he declared—journeyed straight to Liverpool, and took the first’ steamer for America. Eight years passed before anything further was heard of him. ‘Then, as in many other cases, old associations must have proved too + THE LIVERPOOL SAILING SHIP From a Photo, by A. W. Harper. “ AIGKURTH.” strong for him, for he incautiously returned to the ‘Tyneside, where he was speedily arrested. At his subsequent trial the whole mystery was cleared up. It was fully established that the Kichmona’s deaf and dumb passenger was none other than Leinster himself in disguise, and that he had fired the steamer for the sake of the insurance. He was sentenced to five years’ penal servitude, but barely lived to serve through the first year. Thanks to the wholesome respect taught by occasional visits of British and other war-ships to savage islands, it is not often nowadays that WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. -one hears of castaway sailors falling into the hands of cannibals. Yet such an experience befell the crew of the fine Liverpool sailing ship Aigburth, which on July roth, 1904, was wrecked on an uncharted reef off the coast of New Guinea. For several days she lay jammed on the rocks, during which period she was dealt with so roughly by the elements that it was at length deemed necessary to abandon her. Accordingly the boats, four in number, having been provisioned and equipped, were launched, carrying Captain Reid and all the crew. The boats cruised in company till night came on, when they kept in touch with one another by means of lights. Eventually, however, the captain’s boat lost sight of the others, and day- light only served to confirm the disconcerting fact that their companions in distress were nowhere to be seen. When Captain Reid was able to determine his position he discovered that the little craft was among the islands to the north of Rook Island, whose inhabitants bear an unsavoury reputation for cannibalism, and he, therefore, stood out to sea to clear the dangerous locality. Next evening the wind freshened to a gale, which continued throngh the night, giving the occupants of the labouring boat much anxiety. Their misfortunes culminated, as morning was ap- proaching, in the mast falling across the bows. Inasmuch as the provisions that yet remained to them were now sodden with water, they considered it expedient to try to make land as quickly as pos- sible. They manceuvred accord- ingly, and it so fell out that they fetched a place called Long Island, where the weary castaways beached their boat and hauled her up. The island, when they came to examine it, wore a curious aspect. It appeared to be deserted, their eyes failing at first to discern any traces of human occupants. There was a thick tangle of tropical undergrowth, but no sign or indication of life or habitation. Ere long, however, Crusoe-like, they beheld human footprints in the sand, and thoughts of hostile savages flashed through their minds. So, as a measure of precaution, they made up big fires, and two men were told off to keep watch to guard against a night surprise through the hours of darkness. Morning came, however, without anything having happened to confirm their fears, and they were beginning to feel more secure when their newly-acquiréd serenity was rudely disturbed by a sight which sent a chill to their hearts.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 57 Rotnd a distant spur of the island there appeared, moving briskly towards them, a crowd of what seemed to them at first sight to be figures from some hideous nightmare. The new-comers were evidently savages, and as they came nearer the forbidding nature of their appearance became painfully apparent. They were very tall, some being quite seven feet high, and thin, with copper-cotoured bodies, almost destitute of clothing. Their faces were painted or stained a variety of colours, the predominant hues being red and green. Through their noses bones were thrust, the lobes of their ears were drawn down to their shoulders by weights and shells, and their arms bore bangles and trophies of shells. All were armed with spears and clubs, and they approached in a sinister, menacing manner. Captain Reid determined to take no risks, so, giving an eye to his gun, he gave orders to his men to proceed at once to re- move the gear to the boat. These instructions the seamen obeyed with alacrity, while Reid made an elaborate show of loading his gun. The savages, however, came among them without hesi- tation, overhauling the provi- sions and purloining small pieces of corned beef and other articles. They also intercepted the men on their way to the boat, and exhibited such an absorbing interest in one of the sailors, who was inclined to be stout, as to cause that unfortunate individual the acutest anxiety. Meanwhile, Captain Reid stood by with his gun, ready for trouble. Fortunately, how- ever, the savages were apparently “ meat -famished,” and, leaving the castaways temporarily alone, made for the meat tins, with which they became very busy. Reid, seeing that about half the provisions were safely on board, decided to leave the rest and get away while the natives were still occupied. Quickly the men pushed the boat off and pulled away. The surprised savages, abandoning the food, followed them along the coast. At night the sailors saw many lights moving about on the island, so evidently the Long Islanders anticipated another visit from the shipwrecked men. This, however—probably to their disappoint- ment—did not come to pass, for the occupants of the boat were picked up by the steamer Guthrie and landed at Sydney. From the latter place they’ returned to England by the Afric, when the story of their strange adventure, which might have ended so very differently, was related by Captain Reid. News was subsequently received of the rescue of the occupants of the other boats by a passing vessel. “CAPTAIN REID STOOD BY WITH HIS GUN, READY FOR TKOUBLE.” (To be continued.) Vol. xvii.—8.

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Some Fishing Experiences. By Major A. J. Boyp, Rook Carnecigz, AND A. C. BANCROFT. Anglers’ generally received with scepticism. Here, stories of colossal catches and of the monstrous fish that invariably get away are however, are three narratives of a different calibre. Hailing from widely-separated parts of the globe, each story tells of a fisherman who went out to fish, but caught something very different from what he bargained for. A BATTLE WITH SHARKS. By Major A. J. Boyp (QUEENSLAND ARTILLERY), OF BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA. HE warm seas which wash the eastern shores of Australia swarm with marine life, including such edible fish as schnapper, bonito, 7 king-fish, whiting, bass, rock cod, and many others. Unfortunately, the denizens of the sea are not confined to these useful species, which form the principal food of shoals of voracious sharks, devil-fish or flying rays, and octopi. The waters of Moreton Bay, in Queensland, are full of sharks. Of all the different species, however, the blue shark is most to be dreaded, as it grows to an enormous size and does not hesitate to attack a boat. Many stories concerning the ferocity of these sharks are told by boating men_ belonging to the Brisbane yacht clubs, by oystermen who ply their calling amongst the numerous _ islands and channels of the bay, and by holiday-makers who during the summer camp on the beach of the mainland and on the islands. The portion of the bay most infested by sharks is that lying between St. Helena Island, on which a large penal establishment “exsts, and the inner channel between Stradbrooke and Peel Islands, and thence through Canaipa Passage and Swan Bay to the fashionable watering - place of Southport. On Peel Island is the quarantine station, which for some years has not been in requisition. The fine buildings and extensive farm-lands are in charge of a Government superintendent. The island is a very favourite resort with the boating men who frequent the bay. It was at this place that the writer spent a few days lately on the invitation of Mr. William Soutter, the superintendent. One day, after a long tramp over the island, which embraces about four thousand acres, I proposed to Mr. W. Ewart Soutter, eldest son of the superintendent, a young man about twenty- six years of age, that we should take the boat MAJOR A. J. BOYD, WHO HERR RELATES A FISHING EXPERIENCE IN WHICH A NUMBER OF MAN-FATING SHARKS PLAYED A PROMINENT PART. From a Photo. and try for some big schnapper which frequent the rocks in the deep water. The boat, I should mention, was a very ancient concern, with rotten planking, only held together by the soundness of the ribs and liberal applications of tar and canvas, hence its appropriate name— the Zarfot. The weather was delightfully calm, not even a ripple showing on the sea, so there was apparently no danger in pulling out two or three hundred yards from the land. Accordingly lines and bait were prepared, and we selected a likely place to drop an anchor about one hundred yards from the shore. Here, however, we had no luck, so Soutter proposed trying lower down and farther out to sea. “There are usually lots of big squire and schnapper off the deep hole,” he said. ‘ The only trouble is that, for one fish caught, two or more are lost owing to the sharks snapping them up as they are hauled to the surface.” This “deep hole” is an immense depression in this part of the bay —said to be six hundred feet deep. It is infested with large sharks, and on one occasion a whale was seen in its neighbourhood. We had no fear of sharks, having had plenty of bay fishing and sailing, and both of us had been capsized in the open bay without having seen a shark. “All right,” I said. ‘‘Hang the sharks, so long as they leave our fish alone.” So we hove up anchor and pulled out to the blue water. It was pretty deep on the edge of the hole, and we just had rope enough to enable us to come to anchor. Then the lines were thrown over and we lighted our pipes and waited contentedly for a bite. Presently the conversa- tion turned upon sharks. “T’ve been told,” said Soutter, “that the reason so few boating men are taken by sharks when a capsize occurs is that the brutes will never touch a human being fully dressed.” “Well,” I said, “all-I know is that I wouldn’t

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SOME FISHING. EXPERIENCES. 59 like to jump overboard here, dressed or not dressed. It’s bad enough to know this boat is rotten, without thinking of tempting sharks!” After a while we began to think of giving up such hopeless sport, for neither of us had had a single bite. Suddenly I saw three huge sharks slowly approaching the boat. They were a little way under the water, coming on threeabreast. “T say, Soutter,” I cried in alarm; “look at those great brutes. They will be into us directly !” Soutter gave one horrified look. “Good heavens! Man-eaters!” he cried. “Haul in the lines, quick. We must get out of this!” Swiftly we hauled our lines in, and then Soutter began to pull up the anchor-rope. ‘The instant the boat moved, how- ever, the sharks came to the surface, showing three immense dorsal fins, each about two feet in lengtn. They were monsters indeed, and a single touch of a snout or blow from a tail would have smashed the rotten Zarfot to pieces, with a result not difficult to foretell. GOOD HEAVENS! MAN-EATERS!' HE CRIED.” Suddenly the biggest of the three made a tush at the side of the boat, but was met by a blow on the nose from Soutter’s oar. The brute swerved round, and for an instant lay almost alongside the boat and parallel with it. We could thus observe that it was at least two feet longer than our fourteen-footer, and its back was apparently some four feet broad. It then retreated, whereupon the other two made a simultaneous rush at the stern. I met the leader with a blow on the snout, and in backing off he collided with his mate. Then ensued a tremendous struggle close to the stern. At one moment I could have seized a back fin in my hand, but I resisted the temptation and pounded away with my oar, apparently only effecting a pause in the proceed- ings, for after each blow the sharks merely backed away and _ re- turned to the charge. Suddenly, getting an- noyed at something, they chased one another round the boat, and we were the centre of a whirlpool of foam, fins, and tails. Quantities of water were thrown into the boat during this dis- concerting phase of the proceedings, and we trembled lest one of the angry monsters should strike our frail craft. Next the sharks divided their forces. It seemed as if they knew how to divert our atten- tion, for one came round the bow and placed him- self on the port~ side. Whilst the biggest of the trio continued to occupy Soutter’s attention on the starboard side, I had the one at the stern as well as the one to port to deal with. So the terrible battle went on for what seemed ages, but really only for a long quarter of an hour. T had hit the monster at the stern a blow, or rather I was pushing him away with the oar, when he suddenly turned on his back and opened his jaws to their fullest extent, right close to the stern-post. I don’t think I was ever a coward. I have on several occasions faced an attack by wild blacks in the Far North of Queensland .when, travelling alone through the

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60 bush, and have undergone a few other trifles in the way of danger, but I cannot remember that on any of those occasions I ever felt actually Poo Eee ey frightened. But here the cas entirely. We were in a rotten about eighteen inches above were anchored and thus compelled to remain and fight ; and we had only two old oars with which to beat off three ferocious, hungry man-eaters who were in their own element, and who by a single blow could hurl us toa fearful death! It would be untrue to say that I was not afraid. I was des- petately frightened—particu- larly when I saw that awful caverndws mouth, garnished with several- rows of sharp, serrated teeth. I had heard of people’s knees knocking together through fright ; THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “AGAIN AND AGAIN, WITH HORROR AND PANTING FROM OUK EXERTIONS, WE BEAT THEM OFF.” e was different little boat only the water; we "AN EXCITING ADVENTURE. ~ A correspondent writes :—Last Tues ey an exciting time was experienced at L’seh island by Major A. J. Boyd and Mi. Wy E, Soutter, son of Mr. W. Soutter, supery intendent of Pec! island. They went out about 4 p.m. in tiv only boat, belonging’) hto the island to try and get a few fsb. anchor was dropped in deep wal some distance from the shore. After « few minutes unsuccessful fishing, Mr. Sout- ter saw three immeuse sharks coming slowly towards the boat, ‘The lines were iumediately bauled in, but before the anchor could be got up one monster, longer than the boat, attacked it on ove side and two others of almost equal size came at the im the rear. They rolled over and ied their tails, expos- ing their blue-gray bellies and formilable jaws. Mr, Soutter temporarily beat ott mine actually did. I came near to dropping the oar into the shark’s throat, but fortunately I refrained, for he would, of course, have wrenched it out of my hand, and even if I had not gone overboard we could scarcely one assailant, while aihice Boyd struck | the others with an oar, Mr. Soutter then mal to get up the anchor, The sharks thereupon divided forces, one swim- towards the boat on each side, and have escaped against a strong tide by sculling with a solitary oar. Again and again the sharks charged down upon us vici- A CUTTING FROM THE “BRISBANE COURIER” IN WHICH MAJOR BOYD'S ADVENTURE IS DESCRIBEDs) ously, their horrible eyes surveying us with cold ferocity ; and again and again, sick with horror and panting from our exertions, we beat them off. Suddenly Soutter cried out, despairingly :— “Tm afraid it’s hopeless, major! They mean to have us. If I could only get the anchor up we might escape.” “Then, for Heaven’s sake, try,” I shouted; “I am nearly done, and the beasts are getting more and more vicious every minute. Leave your brute to me. Give him a last dig and then go for the anchor like mad.” Soutter prodded his enemy once more and the latter backed away about three feet. At that moment, fortunately for us, a difference of opinion arose between our enemies at stern and port, and the starboard fe.low went off to act as umpire. This was our chance! With trembling fingers Sout- ter tore the anchor from its hold and rapid’ ':aled it in, while [ got the rowlocks from the bottom of the boat and_fixed them in their aicles just about

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SOME FISHING EXPERIENCES. 61 to drop the oars into them when back came all three sharks, dashing past and round the boat, diving under it, lashing the water into foam, and fairly snorting with rage. Not many people have heard a shark snort; you have to be close to them, and you must previously have hurt their feelings pretty badly. The rage of the brutes was awful to witness, but nevertheless we dropped into our seats and began pulling our hardest. It was a mercy that the man-eaters did not do what they have often done in the bay — seize the oars in their teeth and tear them out of our hands. Had they done this we should have been lost to a dead certainty. As it was, however, we reached the shallow water in safety, although the sharks continued their terrifying manceuvres until we were quite close in shore, apparently loath to lose their prey. Soutter had appeared remarkably cool during the fight, and when we got to land compli- mented me on my bravery. “ Bravery!” I laughed, somewhat shakily. “Why, man, if a child had pushed me I should have gone overboard. My knees were knocking together, my teeth chattering, hands trembling, and my heart going like a steam-engine! Brave, eh? But you were plucky.” “Me!” he cried. “Why, I was in the most mortal funk I’ve ever been in in my life! What chance would a fellow have had in the water with those awful brutes?” And I shuddered as I thought of what we had escaped. BITERS BIT! By Rook CARNEGIE, OF BRAILA, ROUMANIA. Ir was in the year 1890 and in the montth of July that I received a letter from some relations with whom I had promised to passa part of my vacation, on condition that they picked on a spot where trout-fishing was obtainable. I had been studying hard at German in Mannheim for some six months, and angling readers can imagine with what impatience I waited to hear where my holiday was to be spent. At last came the welcome letter, enclosing the advertisement of an hotel in the Thuringian Forest —the Hotel gum Weisser Hirsch, Schwarzburg, Schwarzburg- Rudolstadt. Most important of all its attractions in my eyes was the legend at the end of the various recommendations, “fore/- lenfang” —literally, “trout catch.” That was enough. I wired “ All right,” and proceeded to pack hurriedly. To reach that same “ Hotel to the White Stag” I took train to Jena, of Napoleonic and Univer- sity fame, and there changed for Blankenburg. From thence it was a long five hours’ drive up into the hills, clad in their coats of green fir, until I arrived at the plateau on which stands the hotel, and a few yards farther on the castle of the reigning Prince. Through the valley runs the river Schwarza, on whose banks—but several miles farther up— my adventure occurred. The fishing belonging to the hotel is situated some three miles from the hotel itself, but by great good luck I managed to obtain permission MR. ROOK CARNEGIE, WHO CONTRIBUTES, TO THIS ARTICLE THE STORY OF AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE HE MET WITH WHILE FISHING IN GERMANY, From a Photo. by G. J. Maisner. to fish on the part of the river which is the private property of the Prince. And such trout and grayling fishing 1 think I never had; the thought of it even now sends a thrill of pleasure through me. The part of the river I refer to runs through deep valleys. Along one side of it is built the road, which is raised up beside the river-bank about nine feet, just a few big firs growing between the rough stone wall and the water. One evening, as I sat before the hotel, there trotted up to the door a mounted gendarme. Over some beer I yot into con- versation with him, and each Thursday thereafter when he arrived we had a chat. His name was Doderlein ; and one - evening I transferred him to my album, little dreaming tien what a friend in need tre was to be to me, nor, indeed, that the sketch would years after serve to assist the artist illustrating this article. One afternoon I had penetrated far up the river, for the trout would not bite and I had hurried forward, as fly-fishers will when trout are off the feed, hoping for better Juck farther on. I had sat down at last, tired and disgusted, when I noticed two men on the road opposite me who seemed to be observing my actions very closely. Now, fishermen and artists, of all others, are used to being watched, but somehow the moment I saw these two looking at me a most uneasy feeling came over me.

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62 THE WIDE They were the professional tramps of Germany —hulking, evil-looking fellows, raggedly dressed, bundle in one hand and a heavy stick, more a bludgeon really, in the other. The moment they noticed that I was observing them they moved on as though pro- ceeding on their way, disappearing behind some trees. I watched a patch of the road farther on, which a break in the firs made visible. They never showed there ! This meant that they had halted somewhere to watch me. If interested in my fishing, why should they hide? I began to feel alarmed, and as I stood there by the rushing river, with the trackless woods behind me, an utterly help- less feeling took possession of me. What could I, a stripling of barely twenty, do against two “| KEPT AS CLOSE UNDER THE WEIR AS I COULD," such desperate characters as these if they meant mischief? To make my way into the forest was to lose myself; besides, the rascals were watching me and could follow me. A disturb- ing vision of my body lying there undiscovered rose up before me. My only chance was utter coolness. I lit a pipe, knowing these two villains were watching me the while, and quietly did up my rod, leaving the metal spike and reel attached, thinking that it might, if the worst came to the worst, form a weapon of sorts. Then I started down the river in as uncon- cerned a manner as possible, knowing that these WORLD MAGAZINE. two were keeping pace with me across the stream, yet not daring to look towards where I supposed them to be. As I swung on the thought came to me— could I not hide? But where? There came the answer: If I could get to the other side without their seeing me, I might dodge them, for they would think me still on this side. But how to get there without their notice? Nature found me the means. A little above the natural weir shown in my photograph the river winds round a_ small elevation ; a straight path cuts off the bend. As soon as I reached this I ran as hard as ever I could, knowing my trackers must go all the way round on the outer side of the river. Directly I came out on the water again, just below the weir, I plunged into the river without hesitation, though the current was here extremely — strong. The water came up above my chest, for I kept as close under the weir as I could to conceal myself from my pursuers. At last, reaching the other bank, I crept quickly beneath the spreading under-branches of a big fir. There I lay, out of breath, yet hardly daring to breathe or move a muscle. Soon, on the hard road above me, I heard the hastening footfalls of my trackers. They came to a standstill just above me. I was only the depth of the wall below them. If ever a being lay absolutely still I did then. They seemed to be hesitating. “Ts he already through?” one asked the other, in coarse, low accents which flavoured more of the purlieus of Berlin or Hamburg than of the fair Thuringian forests. “T don’t think so; we came so quickly.” “Ts he worth it, do you think ?” “Of course,” growled the other. “Are you afraid? He’s an Englishman, and Englishmen are always full of pounds. He is young, and with this ”—I could imagine the rascal grasping his bludgeon more firmly—“I think I can satisfy him. We can easily carry his body up among the rocks, where it, will never be found.

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SOME FISHING He won't be missed till late ; last night it was nearly ten before he got back to the hotel ”—so they had been watching me!—‘and I don’t suppose they'll start searching for him. They'll think he has gone on to Burkersdorf and, slept there. We can be miles away by twelve to-morrow.” : And I was lying there listening to these villains calmly plotting my murder and the dis- posal of my body after- wards! My flesh seemed to creep, and a cold, clammy perspiration broke out over my whole body. I seemed to fancy their cruel eyes looking down through the branches and discover- ing me. “He must be past. Let’s go on and catch him at the bridge. We can get him from behind there!” cried a voice, suddenly, and away the two would-be murderers hurried. At last they were off my track for the moment. I waited a few minutes, and then stealthily, and with as little noise as possible, raised myself, stretched my hands to the stones at the edge of the road, and pulled myself up. I looked along and could see the two skulking figures, now somewhat indistinct in the coming dusk of evening, making their way down the road, dodging along in a stoop- ing position, and every now and then stopping to peer through the bushes and_ branches towards the other side of the river. At length a turn in the road hid them from my view. I now determined to make in the opposite direction, always keeping beneath the firs by the riverside. I argued with myself that if the wretches did not find me they would look for me on the opposite bank on towards the village, never imagining that I had dared to cross the deep and rapid river. I went creeping along, bent on this project for putting as much space as possible between myself and my would-be murderers. As I moved my head, not far below the level of the road, I became aware of a curious rhythmic sound—tock, tock, tock, tock—which seemed to come out of the stones. I put my ear to the from a} THE WEIK BELOW WHICH MR, CAKNEGIE CROSSED THE KIVER. EXPERIENCES. 63 wall and listened. Then into my mind came re- collections of Ballantyne, Kingston, and other of my boyhood friends of earlier days. It was the sound of a-horse’s hoofs coming along the road. All fear was forgotten. I scrambled on to the road and stood watching anxiously to see who came that way. The sound grew rapidly louder, and presently round the bend of the (Photo, road came my friend Doderlein, the gendarme. He saw me as he approached and his face broadened into a grin. “Good evening, Herr Englander,” he said, heartily. ‘ But what has > happened to you ?” J I looked down at myself. I was soaked from my trip across the river, and the failen needles of the firs had stuck all over me. At any other time I could have joined in a laugh at my own expense. But not then ; I was in no laughing mood. Rapidly I told the astonished gendarme what I had seen and heard. “ We will soon see!” he said, grimly. hold of my left stirrup-leather and run!” Away we went at a smart canter, my legs flying rapidly beneath me. In two minutes we came in sight of the tramps. They saw at once what had happened. For a moment they stood hesitating. On one side was the river, here thirty feet beneath the road ; on the other an almost perpendicular bank, giving but little foot- hold. They started to run, “Catch

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64 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “1 vUT OUT MY ROD IN “Let go!” shouted the gendarme to me, and rushed his willing horse on at a gallop. I stood looking on bewildered. I saw my friend approach the flying tramps, who instinctively dodged to right and left of him; then I saw a sword-blade rise and come down. ‘There was a dull thud, and one tramp lay an inert heap in the road. “Lhe second man doubled back and was now close ta me, his head back and elbows in, running for all he was worth. He seemed not ITS CASE BETWEEN HIS LEGS.” to notice me, but was looking as he ran for a practical place to scale the cliff. As he came within reach—I do not know why, for the gendarme had turned and was just behind him —I put out my rod in its case between his legs, and down he went with a crash, head over heels. The game was up! The gendarme sprang from his horse, ripped open a holster, and had a handcuff on the pant- ing wretch’s left hand, locking the other to his right stirrup. Leading his horse, he returned to the other rascal, now showing signs of — re- viving from the blow, which had only broken the skin and stunned him, the sabre being blunt. The second was buckled on to his friend, and so we pro ceeded slowly towards Schwarzburg. The two tramps turned out to be noted criminals, who were ‘“ wanted” for many acts of robbery with violence in several parts of Germany. They were tried and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment on some of these more important indictments, my little affair being left on one side. The day after my adventure I wrote to Jena for a revolver, which became thereafter an in- dispensable part of my tackle while wandering through those lonely forests. WHAT HAPPENED AT “SQUINT-EYE” POOL. By A. C. Bancrort, oF Stokes Hatt, Jamaica.* AxouT the year 1884 circumstances compelled my leaving a banana plantation I had settled on near Chepstow, in the parish of Portland, Jamaica, and starting business elsewhere. Partly because it was a very pretty place and very good fishing could be obtained in the Swift River near by, I settled at a small seaport town called Hope Bay. Whilst living at Hope Bay I heard of a wonderful pool some twelve or fifteen miles up the Swift River, which, it was said, had never before been visited by a white man. I accord- ingly determined to start out and explore it, and at once began to prepare for my journey. The first thing I had to do was to get a guide, and a pretty hard job I had to find one. After many attempts, however, I stumbled most unexpectedly upon a man who could conduct me to the pool, which bore the euphonious * So “enthusiastic an angler is Mr. Bancroft that he requested that his remuneration for ale little story might take the form of a first-class English trout-rod and tackle, unprocurab le in his neigh- Vourhood.— Ep.

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SOME FISHING EXPERIENCES. 65 name of “Squint-Eye.” One day my servant came to me saying that a man had brought yams to sell. I got up and went to the door. There stood a rather ugly, middle-aged negro with a scraggy beard. He had a net bag slung behind his back, the band resting on his fore- head, while the body of it was filled with fully eighty or a hundred pounds of yams. I asked him his name. “ Joe Samuels,” he said. I bought the yams and casually inquired, without much hope, if he knew “Squint Eye” Pool. “Yes,” he replied. Astonished, I asked if he would guide me there. “If you pay me,” was the cautious answer. After some discussion I agreed to give him two dollars for his services, and as I did not wish to be disappointed I advanced him one dollar as a retaining fee. It did not take me long to have my riding pony and the mule to carry baggage brought from where they were pastured and to lay in the necessary sup- plies for a Friday to Monday trip in the Blue Mountains. The appointed day came at . last, and getting up at about 3 a.m. I roused my boys, Peter and William, to saddle up. We had everything packed, and at about 4 a.m. we started off. Soon we left Hope Bay behind, taking the new interior road, the construction of which I had been lately superintending, and made for Joe Samuels’s place. After travelling for some five miles we duly arrived, to find Joe’s house shut up. I could not understand it, as he was to have been waiting for us. I shouted once or twice; and finally got an answer from within. “Uncle Joe is sick,” a voice told me. This sounded bad, so I got off my pony and went to investigate. I found the front door shut, but that at the back was open, and Joe was sitting on the step, looking quite well. I told him I was sorry he was sick, but that I had engaged him to conduct me to “Squint-Eye” Pool, and, having paid him half his charge, he would have to go himself or find someone else to act as his deputy. Finally, “Uncle” Joe— as he was called—gave in, and started off with us to finda substitute. On our way I discovered that Joe was uncle to a young fellow called Silvera, with whom I had had many a fine day’s fly-fishing in the Swift River. This nephew was the deputy Uncle Joe was to find in his Vol. xvii.—8. EXPERIENCE AT MR. A.C. BANCROFT, WHOSE. FISHING “SQUINT-EVR” POOL, ENDED IN AN EXCEEDINGLY TRAGIC MANNER, AS IS HEKE RELATED. From a Photo. by A. Duperly & Sons, Kingston, Ja. stead. We picked him up in due course, whereupon Joe changed his mind and decided to come as well. Arrived at the end of the road, we sent the animals back by Silvera’s son. We then divided up all we had to carry amongst Silvera, the two boys or lads, Uncle Joe, and myself, and each of us had a fairly good load to carry the six miles we had still to yo. Soon we were traversing a high ridge, from the summit of which, some eight or nine hundred feet below, we could see the Swift River, a streak of white foam, tumbling every hundred yards or so over a fall of loose rocks. When we reached the river-bank Silvera in- formed me that I must pull off my boots and socks and roll up my trousers, as we should have to cross the river some fifty or sixty times. Fortunately, I. remembered I had in my bag an old pair of tennis shoes, so I quickly fetched them out, feeling with them more fit to get over the rocks and gravel that lay in the way. I don’t remember how many times I did actually cross that wretched river, but after a very long and fatiguing journey we came to a lonely grove of moun- tain cabbage-palms, some hun- dred and fifty yards below “Squint-Eye” Pool itself, the falls of which we could plainly hear. It was pretty late and getting dark, so we at once started building a small log hut, cover- ing it with the cabbage-palm leaves. Every- body was cheerful, and we soon completed our labours and were ready for late dinner. After the meal I slung my hammock and settled down to smoke and listen at my ease to the endless chatter of Uncle Joe, his neyhew, and the two boys. I cannot remember mew exactly what all the talk was about, but it concerned the various superstitions connected with “Squint- Eye” and the nameless spirits or monsters that were supposed to inhabit its pellucid depths. Ere long I fell asteep—to dream that some deathly cold creature from the mysterious pool was biting my neck. The sensation was so real that I woke up with a start, grabbing at my neck, only to shiver with horror, for my hand came in contact with a huge slug or snail that was moving from my shirt across my throat. By the light of the hanging lantern I found that the loathsome things were crawling everywhere. Waking Silvera, we started to clear them away, discovering that they had come from the leaves of the cabbage-palm which we had taken to roof our hut.

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66 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Early next morning Silvera, Uncle Joe, and I started for ‘ Squint-Eye,” leaving the boys to clean up the camp. Uncle Joe had his cutlass to clear the way, I had my rod and tackle, and Silvera carried my gun. We rounded a bend of the river, and there lay “ Squint-Eye ” before us. I do not think I have ever seen a finer sight than the pool presented on that lovely morning. We were standing on a small shingly beach, and right before us there stretched a sheet of the bluest .water I have ever seen, flanked on left and right by solid perpendicular walls of rock some twenty to forty feet high, while the pool was backed by a charming water- fall, leaping down in a foaming cascade some forty or fifty feet high. I thought the place splendid, and wondered how many fine fish must make this lake their home, seeing that the fall prevented them from getting up farther than “Squint-Eye.” I was eager to try my luck at once, so 1 walked with Silvera and Uncle Joe along the rocks to the top of She eeccade, where we had a fine view down the lovely pool. The rock we were stand- ing on was about ten feet wide, reaching from the fall to the sides of the V-shaped gorge through which the river ran. Above the mountain towered majestically. I cast off with a good long line, having a silver shrimp for bait, but I had misjudged the depth of the fall; my bait did not touch water, and I soon found my rod useless. Silvera, who had fished before at this place, advised me to take off my line and, after coiling it on the rock, make a running cast with a small sinker attached. I did so, but in my eagerness —for I “UNCLE JOE HAD HIS CUTLASS TO CLEAR THE WAY." could see the pool below was alive with mag- nificent fish--I cast too high, and my line went whirring across to the other bank, catching in a clump of wild begonia. Grumbling at my clumsiness, I pulled it in and started to coil it on the rock again for another cast. I was swinging my sinker again, with Silvera about two yards off to my right and Uncle Joe perhaps ten feet behind me, higher up the river, when suddenly I heard a roaring noise. Instantly Silvera called out in terrified accents, “Run! run! For Heaven’s sake, run!” I looked round, amazed at his agitation, and saw him running like the wind. Just then I heard the noise again, appa- rently above me. Glancing up at the sky-line right over- head I beheld a huge black object leaping down _to- wards me. That was enough—I ran for dear life. I think I had gone _ perhaps fifteen feet when I heard an ear-splitting crash behind me, and_ felt stones of all sizes hitting me. One large one smashed the pith helmet I had on; an- other hit me heavily on the ankle as I ran my hardest,hug- ging the rocky mountain-side. Presently this terrible bombardment ceased, and I halted, panting for breath, and looked round. I could see no one. I called to Silvera —once, twice—and then saw him coming from behind another part of the mountain-side. “What has happened?” I asked him. “Where is Uncle Joe?” “A big rock fell down just as you were getting ready to cast,” stammered Silvera. “It must have knocked him into the pool.” Anxiously we searched for him, even stripping and swimming up the pool, but not a trace of

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SOME FISHING poor Joe could we discover. vanished ! Presently my injured ankle began to swell, and became so painful that I could hardly walk, and at last we were compelled to give up the search and go back to the hut. I sent Silvera off post-haste to give the alarm, while the boys and I packed up and started for home. About half-way down the river I met Silvera and some fifty men of the district, all much excited. Silvera took me aside and told me to say nothing to anyone, as these people were saying that I had killed Uncle Joe. On the Monday evening after my return He had clean EXPERIENCES. 67 I had taken him to “Squint-Eye” simply on purpose to make away with him! A post- mortem was held, however, and the doctor’s evidence, with that of Silvera, clearly proved that I had not had a finger in killing the unfor- tunate man, so that a verdict of ‘“ Accidental death ” was returned. Nevertheless, I feel quite ~~ “OL RAN FOR DEAR LIFE,” home I saw Silvera. He informed me the men had searched all Saturday and Sunday to find the body of Uncle Joe, but that not until about eight that morning had they done so, The poor fellow’s corpse was discovered in thirty-nine feet of water, with the face smashed in and one arm broken. It was evident that the falling stone had struck him on the head and flung him into the river, which immediately bore him over the falls. For days I was laid up with my injured ankle, during which time constables came to me almost daily for information and statements. I got a summons to appear at a coroner's inquest, and also discovered to my dismay that it was currently reported in the district that I had threatened poor Uncle Joe’s life—indeed, that confident, so high did feeling run, that had the coroner not been a right-minded magistrate I should have been arrested and charged with “manslaughter,” when it would have cost me much money and trouble to secure an acquittal. We never discovered the cause of the huge tock falling just when it did. My fishing-line, which I had left coiled where I had been stand- ing, was cut into more than thirty pieces ; I kept them for a long time to remind me of the imminent peril I was in that day. I have never visited “ Squint-Eye” since, nor do I wish to; I have too vivid a recollection of the pleasant fishing excursion which was changed in the twinkling of an eye into a terrible tragedy. —

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A Jen-Thousand-Mile Race. By J. O. Grecc, or Montana, U.S.A. The exciting story of an extraordinary contest for a valuable land title. race over land and sea an Englishman reached his goal just a day too late. After a ten-thousand-mile Then, when most men would have admitted their failure, he thought of a scheme whereby he was able to turn defeat into victory with a margin of a bare half-hour! JN June, 1883, I found myself in @ Helena, the capital of Montana Territory, e# route across the conti- nent by stage and railway, thé latter only partially completed. While there I became acquainted with an Englishman, a Mr. A. Chater, who was seeking investment for the surplus capital of a syndicate of his countrymen. His investigations in various quarters of the globe had led him into many, and often perilous, adventures, several of which he related to me during our travels together in the Far West. { will here relate one of his most striking experiences—a ten-thousand-mile race over land and sea, in the interest of his employers, in which, after a chapter of accidents which would have conquered a less determined man, he first lost and then won the precious stake—the Great Falls of the Missouri River. Chater’s principals in England had directed him to inspect this property with a view to utilizing it as a source of power. Electricity, it should be mentioned, had not then been con- sidered as a factor in the transmission of immense hydraulic powers to distant points as it is to-day. : While attempting this investigation Chater learned that the property was already in the legal possession of a squatter, and that other . persons unknown were negotiating—in the Wild Western manner of doing these things for its THE GREAT FALLS OF THE MISSOURI RIVER—IT WAS THE TITLE TO THESE FALLS THAT CAUSED From a) THE EXCITING RACE HERE DESCRIBED, acquirement. This was a condition entirely unexpected and unprovided for, and to be over- come only by skill, tact, courage, and the “almighty dollar.” It was only too apparent that his unknown competitors were possessed of all these requirements, and quite unscrupulous in the application of them. Provisions and merchandise for the use of the miners in the mountains tributary to Helena were at this time freighted from Fort Benton, the head of navigation on the Missouri River, and gold from the mines was sent to Fort Benton from Helena over the same route. The line of stage-coaches between the two points, for the transportation of mails, gold, and passengers, was exposed to depredations by Indians and the even more-to-be-feared “road agents.” It was necessary for the protection of this mail route that a military post should be main- tained at Fort Shaw, on the Sun River, a tributary of the Missouri, the fort being located about thirty miles west of the Falls, and connected with both Helena and Benton by a line of military telegraph which followed the stage route over the prairies and mountains. Chater, with a friend who accompanied him from Helena, after a weary ride by stage across the mountains, reached Fort Shaw without incident, and here secured cayuses (Indian ponies noted for their specd and endurance) to transport themselves and luggage to their des- tination. It was not until nearly sunset when they heard the distant roar of falling water, guided by which they soon after- wards reached the crest of a canyon or gorge, from which they obtained their first view of the Great or ninety -six feet fall, the lower of the splendid series of plunges which bear the general name of “Great Falls.” The Mis- souri River is here con- tracted to a width of only nine hundred feet, and leaps over rocky ledges into the abyss below, from which clouds of spray rise continually. After (Photo,

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A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE RACE. 69 some search the two travellers discovered a sort of path hewn in the rocky side-wall of the canyon, by which they led their horses toward a little valley or park at the foot of the Falls. The ledge being quite narrow and the footing inse- cure, they dismounted and strapped their guns to the saddles with their other luggage to enable them to give their undivided attention to the management of the restive animals while being led down the narrow and steep pathway. As theyapproached the foot of the decli- vity they were startled by a gruff voice order- ing thein to halt. With mental visions of “road agents,” they promptly complied with the peremptory command, as also the further order to “throw up their hands,” which was emphasized by a heavy Winchester rifle held menacingly in the hands of a medium - sized man, clad in a_ woollen over-shirt, belted to leather “shaps” or riding breeches. The belt was weighted with rifle cartridges, a revolver was plainly visible at one side, while the other was ornamented with a formidable knife in a leather sheath. The ragged and soiled slouch hat on the man’s head shaded a face partially hidden by several weeks’ growth of sandy beard. From this point onwards I think I may as well tell the story in Mr. Chater’s own words :— Rye. | ‘tana 2 Pave: ayzte's Sy, me het ee nae es 2) 1% 6 Ease) In reply to the man’s “ What yer doin’ here, strangers ?” we explained that we wished to see the Falls. “Yer ken see the Falls from the top of the hill,” he growled, fiercely, eyeing us with increased suspicion. We further explained that we were strangers in need of food and shelter for both man and aS _- “THEY PROMPTLY COMPLIED WITH THE PEKEM!TORY COMMAND. beast ; one of us an Englishman and the other an American. My reply seemed to rouse the stranger’s anger still more. “T tol’ the other fellers,” he shouted, “that I’d sure kill the next ‘uns sent here ter jump my claim ; I’ve got the drop on yer, an’ yer’d better say yer prayers right here.” Charles Roth—as he afterwards informed us was his name—was correct in stating that he had “the drop on” us, our guns being at tached to our saddles --a very unsatisfac- tory situation when confronted by a pos- sible lunatic, if not a “road agent,” especi- ally when you are perched, as we were, on a narrow ledge of rock several feet in front of animals cer- tain to kick or buck if we attempted to pass them in any way. We had been fairly captured, anddeemed itdiscreet to promptly obey a curt order to lead the procession into the valley at the foot of the trail, where our captor took pos- session of the cayuses, removed our arms, and directed us first to water them in the river, and then turn them intoa small cor- ral where they could be fed. Ali the while he covered us with the Winchester, seem- ing half inclined to shoot us out of hand. We insisted that we had no designs upon his claim, wherever it was situated ; that we only required entertainment, and were prepared to pay for the same. At this he visibly thawed, but did not relax his vigilance, guarding us closely as we preceded him into a small stone shack under a broad ledge of rock near by. Here he kindled a fire, brewed coffee, fried bacon, and warmed a broken can of tomatoes, placing the meal, with a few pieces of Govern- ment “hard tack,” on a flat rock that served for a table. Then he ordered us, to eat. Even the fact that) we might (Ge in) the hands of a

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jo THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. dangerous lunatic did not allay the cravings of appetite, and our obedience to this latest order was, if possible, even more prompt than any which had preceded tt. After satisfying the demands of the inner man our captor placed a small pouch of tobacco, with pipes and matches, on the stone for our further use Although our curiosity as to his identity and purpose increased with each whiff of smoke, no explanations were offered until after the contents of the second pipe had been blown into vapour. The stranger then relieved the strained situation and enlightened us as follows: ‘Yer may think it strange, partners, “WHEN ONE OF THEM CAME OUT OF THE SHACK I LAID THE OL’ RIFLE 'LONC THE STONE,” that I held yer up with a gun on the hill, and if yer care to lis’n I'll tell yer about it. “I’m from Minneapolis, where I follered the butcherin’ business. Two year ago I heard of this Fall, bein’ tol’ that nobody owned it. I quit work, came to Fort Benton on a_ boat, and tramped from there to the Falls. I bought a cayuse at Fort Shaw, went to Helena, and had an engineer help me ‘run out’ my claim; then rode again to Helena and filed a squatter’s claim at the Land Office. Here’s my map an’ receipt from the Government. Last winter two men came to my shack an’ tol’ me they was agents for a railway they was going ter build into this country ; they wanted to buy, but wouldn’t give my price, wantin’ me to sign an option. I didn’t care to sell just then, and the men went away. About a month later a man came from Benton and offered me a hundred dollars a month to cut meat at the Benton market. I was out of money, ammunition for my gun, and provisions, so I nailed up a notice, locked the door of my shack, and went to work there. Arter workin’ about two months a friend tol’ me that two men had broken my door, jumped my claim, and were livin’ in my shack. I threw up my job, bought provisions and ammunition for my old Winchester, and tramped back to the Falls. Yer see that big stone on top of the hill, about half a mile from here? I hid behind that rock, and when one of them came out of the shack I laid the ol’ rifle ‘longside the stone and clipped one of his ears. The feller ran back into the shack, an’ the other man came out. I put my next bullet almost through his hair. They got out their guns, and we fought, off and on, for three days. Do yer see the bullet streaks on the ol’ stone? The men kept tryin’ to hit me, and I kept trimmin’ their hair, so to speak, till they learned I was just playin’ with ’em, hittin’ where I pleased. Then they got scared and hung out an old rag fora parley. After we'd talked I let ’em go back to Benton. 1 told them to tell the boys that I'd shoot the next who tried to jump my claim dead, an’ not play with ’em as I had these two.” We talked fora while longer, and I pointed out to Roth the weakness of his position from a legal point of view. “T believe you’ve told me the truth, stranger,” he said at last. “I can’t hold the claim for a survey and prove up; and I can’t prove up without a survey. If you want my claim to the Falls I'll sell for five thousand dollars in gold.” I informed him I might buy, but must first return to my employers in England, which would require about sixty days. In the mean- time I would pay five hundred dollars for an option for that length of time at the price he named, leaving my friend with him to aid him in protecting the property during my absence. We signed an agreement, and |my friend agreed

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A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE RACE. 1 to stay. I arranged with him to keep close watch, and, if any effort was made by my unknown opponents to obtain information or “jump” the claim, to wire me at once from Fort Shaw. I had learned that a steamboat had tied up at the Benton wharf and would leave early next morning, being the last boat to come up the river that season. It was now almost evening, and it was neces- sary to start promptly to reach the boat in time to secure a passage down the river. I hastily saddled my cayuse, strapped my blankets behind, bade both Roth and my friend good-bye, and was soon riding out over the open prairie towards the west, this route being necessary to makea circuit around the numerous coulées which ran back from one to three miles from the river bank, and which in many places were deep, precipitous, and rocky. There was no pathway ; the buffalo trails from the river to the open prairie led in the wrong direction and could not be used as a guide to Fort Benton, about thirty miles to the north-east. My cayuse was unusually frisky, becoming so restive that I soon deemed it prudent to strap my revolvers to the saddle to avoid losing them in case the beast should buck, when all my skill and strength would be neces- sary to prevent myself from being thrown from his back. Just as night approached the sky became overcast with clouds, a slight rain set in,and the closest watchful- Ness was necessary to avoid riding into some unseen ravine. With my eyes carefully scanning the prairie before me to avoid mis- haps, I neither saw nor heard the approach of two horsemen from behind until a stern order to throw up my hands, accom- panied by the rough thrust of a muzzle of a gun into my face, “y QUICKLY MEASURED MY LENGTH UPON THE SOFT GRASS AT THH EDGE\OF\4 SHALL COULEE,” caused me to comply so speedily that the cayuse I was riding bolted and began to buck so vigorously and viciously that I quickly measured my length upon the soft grass at the edge of a small cou/ée, into which I rolled helplessly as I fell from the horse. Whether either of the “road agents,” as I took them to be, saw me fall I do not know; both pursued the kicking and plunging cayuse as he ran out into the darkness of the night. As for me, I quickly stumbled away among the rocks and briers until certain 1 had reached a safe place of concealment some distance from the scene of my adventure. My position was now decidedly unenviable. My horse, luggage, and firearms were gone. I was on foot and the darkness was impenetrable. Fortunately, I retained my money-wallet on my person, although the option and other valuable Papers had vanished with the horse. I had no time to lose if I meant to reach the boat in time to start down the river with her. Although badly bruised and shaken, I pushed on, and had no difficulty in discovering the next cou/ée, for I pitched into it headlong, rolling over rocks and through briers to the bottom. Pulling myself together, I cautiously climbed to the

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72 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. opposite crest, only to repeat the experience a moment later in a manner that made me fear I had broken some of my bones. With a few variations from time to time my wearisome tramp was continued until, as the ted dawn lighted the eastern horizon, I was able to discern the distant lights of the steamer, still moored to the wharf at Benton. Encouraged by this sight I struggled on, frequently falling, owing to my fatigue and the increasing stiffness of my bruised limbs. Once I heard voices and saw two horsemen, “| REMAINED HIDDEN IN THE GRASS UNTIL THEY HAD ASSED.” who looked like cowboys going back to their ranch after a night at Fort Benton. Ordinarily I would have welcomed their advent, but now I deemed it best to chance no further delays, and remained hidden in the grass until they had passed ; then I pushed on until, just as the men on the boat were casting loose the ropes which held the steamer, I tottered up the plank—in the nick of time! I was promptly shown to a state-room, where, without disrobing, I threw myself on the berth and fell fast asleep, waking only when the day was far gone and the boat many miles towards her eastern destination. A good bath and a warm dinner put new life into me, while a few stitches with a borrowed needle served to hide the more prominent of the rents and tears in my clothing. I greatly enjoyed my trip down the river to Bismarck, Dakota, and thence by rail to St. Paul, Chicago, and New York. In the latter city, having a few hours to wait before the Cunarder sailed, I provided myself with fresh clothing, and interviewed an agent to whom I entrusted the purchase of the scrip necessary to complete my title to the land when relinquished by Roth. The scrip was to be ready for me when I returned from Europe. Twenty-three days after leaving the Falls I was closeted with my em- ployers in their London offices. My reports were submitted and approved, the money provided, and on the twenty-fifth day I sailed from the docks at Liverpool and again crossed the Atlantic. On the thirty-sixth day from my start from the Falls I entered the general offices of the Northern Pacific Railway to inter- view the management of the company, having been informed that a strike of telegraph operators along the line had dislocated the service. Only construc- tion trains, I had been told, would be permitted to “run wild” along the line, and these would pro- ceed slowly, with frequent delaysand uncertain stops. I was given an order en- abling me to ride when any of these trains or other conveyances moved ; the company to be in no way responsible for delays, stops, or accidents. It was ‘ Hobson’s choice” with me; there was no other way to go at that time, and I made up my mind to make the best of a bad business. By the occasional use of a hand-car, and oftener a cayuse, I finally reached the stage terminus, and in two more days arrived at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Helena, just sixty- one days after leaving the Falls—and one day after my option had expired ! The hotel clerk handed me a letter and telegram from my friend, whom I had left in charge of my interests at the Falls. Both were sent from Fort Shaiw ;;the) letter was about a

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A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE RACE. 73 week old, and the wire had arrived that morning. The missives confirmed my failure to secure the prize for which I had travelled post-haste more than ten thousand miles over land and sea, and consumed more than two months of time, besides the loss of one hundred pounds sterling paid for the option, my travelling expenses, and sundry bruises and scratches upon my person. Last, but by no means least, I had to consider the loss of prestige with my em- ployers, my chagrin being enhanced by the Information contained in the letter, that my supposed “hold-up” after leaving the Falls had been engineered by the agents of my opponents, who had taken this means of securing my papers, maps, etc., including the copy of the option, which revealed the price I had agreed to pay, together with the time limit of the same. This enabled them to take advantage of my enforced delay and secure a concession at a slight advance over my price, and which was to become good as soon as the option expired, should I have failed to materialize within the sixty days men- tioned. The telegram advised me that Roth and my opponents had that morning started by the stage from Fort Shaw, which would reach Helena thirty- six hours later; their purpose being to consummate a transfer of hisclaim tothe men whowere accompanying him. Greatly wearied by my long journey and discouraged by my failure, I retired early, but did not rest well. Drcams of “hold-ups,” rail- way accidents, bucking — cayuses, andotherincidents, both real and ima- ginary, possessed me, and in the morning my brains seemed a confused vacuum so far as ideas were con- cerned. After a bath and breakfast I lighted my pipe and walked to the summit of a small mountain south of the city, where I seated my- self in the warm Vol. xvii.—10. {1 TURNED TO THE DOOR, JUST IN TIME TO OPPONENTS ENTER.” sun, smoking and meditating over my misfortunes. A sudden inspiration caused me to spring to my feet, rush back to my hotel, and consult with the clerk. Then I went to the bank, presented my bills of exchange, and obtained American gold. Next I carried the scrip to the Land Office to be officially inspected by the registrar and receiver, so that no delay would occur when I presented and offered it for filing the next morning. The Fort Shaw stage I knew would not arrive until after the Land Office had closed for the day. Roth and his friends would pass the night at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, I had been informed by ‘the clerk. I therefore arranged that the squatter should be given a room some distance from the others, the clerk agreeing to leave them undisturbed until after nine the next morning. Very early in the morning I had Roth quietly called down to meet me at breakfast, and soon learned the nature of his agreement with my unscrupulous opponents. I displayed my gold, tendered him a slight advance above the price they had offered him, and secured an extension of the option for three days. At nine o'clock we presented ourselves at the Land Office and ascertained that nothing had been changed there. Roth then relinquished his claim, I paying him the agreed sum as soon as my scrip had been accepted and a receipt for the entry signed by the registrar and re- ceiver, which, with a receipt from Roth for the money paid him, I placed in my pocket. I turned to the door, with a feeling of intense relief, just intime to see my two discom- fited opponents entering breath- lessly in search of Roth, whom they had missed when they came down to their breakfast. They were exactly thirty minutes late —I had won the ten- thousand - mile race by a bare margin of half an. hour ! & MY TWO DISCOMFITED

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The Woman in Black. Totp sy THE Late GeorGe CoLvILLE, M.D., AND SET Down Py THE Rev. E. L. C. WiLson This remarkable story presents a curious problem to the studen. of the supernatural. Concerning the narrative Mr. Wilson writes: “It was related to me by the late Dr. Colville, who came out to Broken Hill, New South Wales, in 1899. I was at that time Principal of the Academy there. After the doctor had told me the story I took down all of it I could remember, and he subsequently helped me to revise it. The doctor died in rgo1.” AM not a psychologist, nor is there, so far as I know, any tinge of romance in my disposition. I have never attended a spiritual séance, and possess no power whatever to summon spirits from the vasty deep, nor from any other place they may claim as their resi- dence. I am totally ignorant of the habits and customs of ghostly visitors, and have never been present in a cemetery at the witching hour of night, “when churchyards yawn and graves give up their dead.” And since I disclaim so posi- tively all dealings and acquaintance with the supernatural, I am sure you will believe me when I state that the following facts are entirely beyond my comprehension. I can only declare, on oath if ne- I had gone from London to Hastings in October, 1893, to pay a visit to Eleanor Beau- fort, the young lady who was shortly to become my wife. One evening, a day or two after my arrival, while strolling alone on the pier, I picked up a ring that was lying on the ground close to one of the benches. It was a broad gold band, set with a single diamond, and the initials “C. B.” were engraved inside it. I sat down for a few moments, and was just debating in my mind whether I should advertise the article on my own account or take it to the police-station, when sud- denly a strange and unaccountable feeling came over me. Looking up, I saw a woman, appa- rently about forty years of age, standing beside me. She was rather above the medium height, and had black cessary, that the story is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. hair and eye- brows; her nose was aqui- line, and I 7 noticed a small Shah Man shy en kMe Pes , scar on her rE eet Mica bicep career pean cc ios rs Suma REO impossible to Crh Lhe, of Lipski. Lt, Jn Mahe. burn, perhaps, explain the mysterious “~~—causes-that were brought into action to produce the effects which constitute the main ground- work of my narrative. In the words of the Psalmist I can truly say, “Such know- ledge is too wonderful for me ; it is high, wt fa tans Haat Fee fever Aircon at Mes bay + Afra Shas M hay og OeAle, S905 apne one LS Han daca, Doctor Crbnlly ingfrmad mm ht faa Lake YF Cobol thas tall tno + nt ov anetticel frastitecnar vv Croke. é ty detirk; t fhrrin any core Wilt t Pha Aannowutlang Fi ERT CCE Late pA, liht lh Arte, of bot atinhera, E2LC Lam : Meese Porece Wada canis pote fo Pate. or it might pos- sibly have been a birth-mark. Thad heard no footsteps ap- proaching ; the woman had appeared upon the scene suddenly and noiselessly, like a ghostly apparition— though in one respect, cer- tainly, she bore no resem- blancetotheor- dias w hue one, t Lad 1 I cannot attain unto it.” THE REV. E, L, C, WILSON'S AFFIDAVIT CONCERNING THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH THIS REMARKABLE STORY WAS RELATED TO HIM. thodox spectre, for, instead

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THE WOMAN IN BLACK. 5 “SHE REMAINED STANDING MUTE AS A STATUE, POINTING WITH HER FINGER TOWARDS ME.” of being clothed in white, my strange visitor was wearing a black dress, with a bonnet and cloak of the same colour. She remained standing mute as a statue where I first saw her, pointing with her finger towards me. I began to feel rather guilty—it might be the owner of the ring who confronted me. She had missed the article, perhaps, and had come to look for it; and, for aught I knew to the contrary, she had caught me in the act of putting it in my pocket. But why couldn't she speak and say what she wanted ? Three or four minutes elapsed, but the woman in black showed no signs of taking her departure. Then it occurred to me that she might be a lunatic who had managed to escape from her keepers; she fancied, perhaps, that I had done her an injury, or else she mistook me for someone who really Aad wronged her. My position at length became quite unbearable, so I rose to my feet and inquired if she wished to spéak tome. There was no reply. I addressed her again, but the woman was silent and motionless as before, still pointing with her finger in my direction. It struck me that there was something uncanny about the whole business; so, advancing a few steps, I put out my hand, in- tending to place it on her shoulder and demand her business with me ; but, to my intense surprise, I could feel nothing! ‘There was nobody there —it was only the shadow of a woman that appeared before me ! Needless to say, I was ‘very much astonished, not to say frightened—a ghost in black was a strange anomaly that upset my preconceived notions altogether ; so, retreating a few paces, | held out the ring and spoke to her again, though I was not at all sanguine of receiving a reply. “If this is your property, madam,” I observed, in a tremulous tone, “I shall be only too happy to restore it. I hope you don’t think I’m a thief; but, of course, when I saw it lying on the ground I naturally picked it up, intending to make some inquiries.” 1 had hardly finished speaking when the figure came noiselessly towards me, till her hand, or rather the shadow of her hand, appeared to be touching the ring I was holding out between my thumb and forefinger. Just at the moment of con- tact (or apparent contact) between her hand and mine, I experienced a violent shock that extended from the wrist to the shoulder, not unlike the effect produced by an electric battery. I drew back my hand and replaced the ring in my pocket ; there was something un- natural, or, more correctly speaking, supernatural, about the affair that I could not understand at all. So, acting on the principle that discretion is the better part of valour, I took my depar- ture, leaving my mysterious visitor in undisputed possession. I showed the ring that evening to my fiancée, but made no allusion to the woman in black, for fear of being laughed at. The following day I inserted an advertisement in a local paper stating that I had found it, and asking the owner to communicate with “G. C.”—these initials, of course, stood for my own name, George Colville. ..1 put.the ring im my dressing-

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76 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. case while awaiting replies, and retired to rest that night at eleven o’clock as usual. Presently, however, I experienced the same peculiar sensa- tion as before, and a moment later I could’ see by the light of the moon, which was shining brightly, that the woman in black was standing at the foot of the bed and pointing to the case on the dressing: table ! “What do you want here?” I inquired, for- “THE WOMAN IN BLACK WAS STAN getting for the time being that I had proved my visitor to be only a shadow without substance. There was, of course, no reply ; so, getting out of bed, I went and knocked at the door of the adjoining room, where the landlady’s son was sleeping. I had told him, in confidence, the story of the ghost, but could not induce him to believe it. “Quick, Harold!” I exclaimed, waking him up; ‘come and see the woman in black! She has just honoured me with a second visit, for some reason or other best known to herself, and T hope to convince you /Ais time that 1 am not mistaken.” He followed me back to my room, but when we got there the figure had disappeared. “T thought as much, Colville,” he observed, sarcastically ; “you have either been dreaming or eating a late supper, and you have had an attack of nightmare. It will pass off presently, if you lie down and try to go to sleep again.” Well, the advertisement referring to the ring “appeared in the paper on three consecutive occasions, but no one answered it. On the NG AT THE FOOT OF THE BED.” expiration of my holiday I returned to London and resumed my studies. I was going to be a doctor, and was attending lectures at one of the hospitals. Now medical students, as a rule, live up to their means, and sometimes a good deal beyond them, and among my companions were several who indulged in the dangerous pastime of gambling. I was occasionally foolish enough to tempt the fickle goddess myself; and one night, when my funds were exhausted, I wrote out an 10 U and handed it to the winner, promising to pay the amount on the following evening. I found, however, on returning to my lodgings that I had,not the funds)to meet it; I was two

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THE WOMAN “1 STARTED WITH ASTONISHMENT,” pounds short. It would have to be procured somehow, and I made up my mind to pledge the ring, which was still in my possession. “It is only a temporary matter,” I argued ; so I went to a pawnbroker’s in the Edgware Road and laid it down on the counter. . Just at that moment I felt instinctively that the woman in black had again put in an appearance ; and, turning round, I noticed her standing behind me, pointing to the ring in the same mysterious manner as before. I started with astonishment, uttering an exclamation which caused the pawn- broker, who was then examining the ring, to ask me what was the matter. I made some extuse, and told him I was subject to spasms. I did not think it was any use to ask him if he saw her, so I took up the money and the ticket and left the premises as quickly as possible. I redeemed the ring a month later, and was not in the least surprised to see my mysterious visitor again pointing with her finger just as the pawnbroker fetched it from the safe, and this time I determined to speak to him. “Do you notice a woman in black?” 1 said. “She is standing in the middle of IN BLACK. 1 the shop and pointing to the counter.” “No,” he replied, eyeing me suspiciously, “I don’t see anyone at all. You have a guilty con- science, in my opinion ! One would think you had stolen the ring, asking me a question like that. You'll have to wait now till I hunt up the lists of missing property. It was just the same, I remember, when you came in and pledged it —you looked as frightened as if a policeman was after you. I don’t care about this sort of thing, so you'd better do your business some- where else for the future.” It was half an hour at least be- fore the man was satisfied ; then he gave me the ring, remarking, however, that he was not at all sure T had any right to it. This was a fact that I certainly could not dis- pute, considering the circumstances under which it had come into my possession. It was very evident that the owner was haunting me, and in- tended to do so at stated intervals until she recovered her property. So I put an advertisement in the Times to the following effect—that if a lady about forty years of age, and dressed in black, who was stay- ing at Hastings in October, had lost anything on the pier, she would oblige by communicating with “G.C.” But no reply was ever forthcoming. ‘Two years passed by. I had left the hospital, and was now qualified to practise as a medical man ; I settled in the neighbourhood of Chelsea, and shortly afterwards was married to Eleanor Beaufort. “What became of that ring, George, that you picked up at Hastings?” she asked me one evening. “If you have not found an owner for it yet, you might as well let me wear it.” “All right, Eleanor,” I replied; “but, to tell you the truth, I’ve serious thoughts of sending it to the police, as there doesn’t appear to be any result from advertising it.” “You may as well wait a few days,” she con- tinued. “I should like to wear it at Mrs. Shirley’s dinner-party, and then you can do what you like with it afterwards.” So I went and fetched it, and she put it on her finger. After dinner we were sitting in the drawing-room as usual; I was reading the paper, and my wife was amusing herself with some embroidery. ,Presently ;I1 looked up, and

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78 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. there was the woman in black just in front of me! “There she is again, Eleanor!” I exclaimed. “Can’t you see her? It’s all connected with that unlucky diamond ring! I'd better send it to Hastings to-morrow and have done with it.” “What are you talking about, George?” she rejoined, wonderingly. ‘‘ There’s no one in the room but ourselves. You must have taken leave of your senses!” I ought to mention that I had never told her anything about the apparition, but now I went fully into details, explaining that this was the fifth occasion on which the woman had appeared. The recital in- terested my wife greatly, and we both agreed that the sooner the ring was out of the house the better. “IT won't wear it any longer,” she said, taking it off her finger. “I didn’t see anyone myself ; still, I believe your story. It’s the owner of the ring, I’m certain of that ; and she’ll keep on making her appearance till she gets her property back again.” “Tl tell you what I'll do, Eleanor. I'll put an advertisement in some of the London papers, as I’m very curious to find out whom it belongs to. If no one claims it I'll send it back to Hastings. We'll wait a week longer, and then I promise you Ul get rid of it.” “Very well,” she re- plied; “just as you please. You can keep it under lock and_ key, though, as far as J’m concerned ; I won’t wear it again after what you’ve told me. Now, George, by way of changing the subject, it may, perhaps, interest you to know that the new housekeeper’s coming in the morning.” “ What’s her name, Eleanor?” “Catherine Bentley—she’s the widow of a medical man, who left her in very straitened circumstances.” “ Her references are all right, I suppose?” “Oh, yes ; I wrote to make inquiries, and the answers were highly satisfactory.” “Well, I hope she’ll suit us better than Mrs. Westland. Mrs. Bentley must be in London already, I should think,.as you say she intends to get here in the morning.” It was 9 a.m. on the following day when a cab drove up to the house. I was working in my surgery at the time, so I went to the window, curious to obtain a glimpse of the new arrival. The driver dismounted, opened the door of his vehicle, and who should step out but—the woman in black! I was quite sure of her identity—the figure that had haunted me on five distinct occa- sions was Mrs. Bentley, our new housekeeper ! “Perhaps it was still an apparition,” I “DISPUTING IN LOUD AND ANGRY TONES WITH THE CABMAN.” said to myself, “and of a living creature.” But, no; the occupant of the cab was no ghost or spectre—it was a real, substantial, and corporeal being that was standing on the pave- ment disputing in loud and angry tones with the cabman, presumably in connection with his fare. A minute or two later Mrs. Bentley was admitted and introduced to her new mistress. I refrained from speaking, tomy wife with

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THE WOMAN IN BLACK. 19 regard to this latest development of the mystery but, fetching the ring from my bedroom, I took it down to the surgery. As soon as a chance presented itself I sent for the housekeeper, intending to ask her a few questions. When she entered the room I noticed the scar on her left cheek, which fully confirmed my belief that the woman in black had resumed her mortal existence, and was now standing in propria persona before me. “Sit down, Mrs. Bentley,” I said. “I'm very anxious to clear up a mystery, and I think you can help me to do so. May I ask, in the first place, if you’ve ever seen me before?” “No, sir,” she replied ; “at least, not to my knowledge.” “Were you at Hastings on the roth of October, 1893?” ; “No, sir, I was not. I haven’t been away from home for the past six or seven years.” “Then you couldn’t have been at a pawn- shop in the Edgware Road in February and again in March of 1894?” I continued. “Certainly not,” she rejoined, somewhat indignantly. ‘I’ve never been to a pawnshop in my life.” “Did you ever see an advertisement in the Hastings or London papers referring to a broad gold ring set with a single diamond ?” “No, sir; but I’ve lost a ring of that descrip- tion, or else it was stolen from me.” “When did you lose it, Mrs. Bentley?” “Early in October, 1893,” she replied ; “my nephew was staying with me at the time, and I think it was during the second week of the month that he left me and went to Hastings.” “What initials were engraved on the ring?” I continued. “°C. B.,.’” she replied; “they stand for my name, Catherine Bentley. It was a present from my late husband, and I can’t tell you how sorry I was when I missed it.” I then showed her the ring, which she identified at once as her property. She looked, as I thought, very suspiciously at me. “Oh, 1 didn't steal it,” I observed, smiling. “T picked it up on the pier at Hastings, and advertised it several times in the papers. It was never claimed, though, so I kept it by me more out of curiosity than for any other reason. I was just going to send it to the police at Hastings, as my wife considered it very unlucky to keep it any longer on the premises.” “ How so, Mr. Colville? I don’t understand you.” “Well, Mrs. Bentley, the fact is, from the very first moment I found the ring on the pier, I’ve been naunted by the figure of a woman in black. I saw you this morning when you first arrived here, and you bore so strong a resemblance to the apparition that I made up my mind to question you. I haven’t any doubt that the ring is yours, but just as a matter of form I should like to know when and where it was purchased.” She gave me the particulars. I had no difficulty in proving them to be correct, and a day or two later I handed her back her property. “ George,” said my wife some little time after- wards, “directly I saw Mrs. Bentley I thought of the woman in black. She’s wonderfully like the description you gave of your ghostly visitor, and the initials on the ring were ‘C. B.,’ which stand for Aer name—Catherine Bentley. I wonder if there’s any connection between them ?” I had not as yet said anything to Eleanor with regard to the strange dénouement of the mystery, thinking it might perhaps prejudice her against the new housekeeper ; but now that a good opportunity occurred for alluding to the subject I availed myself of it, and we both agreed it was one of the most marvellous coincidences that had ever come under our notice. It was not very clear to my mind, though, how the ring had managed to reach Hastings. I can only surmise that the housekeeper’s nephew had stolen it while paying her a visit, and on his return to Hastings had dropped it on the pier. He probably saw the advertisement in the local paper, but was too frightened to come forward and claim it, for fear of inquiries being made as to how it had come into his possession. And now, in conclusion, I am anxious to know what reasoning or argument can account for these manifestations of the woman in black on five distinct occasions. Mrs. Bentley and myself were perfect strangers at the time, neither of us being aware of the other’s existence. Was it possible that a feeling of sympathy had arisen between us, called into action by some psycho- logical effort on her part, superinduced ‘“y her great anxiety to recover the missing arNcle 2. And was it the result of this effort that had brought her spiritually, though not corporeally, into contact with myself, the very person who for the time being was actually in possession of her property? ‘The power that the mind and will are capable of exerting independently of the body is far too deep a question for ordinary mortals to determine, and my own crude ideas on matters of this kind are quite inadequate to the task of solving the mystery. I may add, too, it was always my impression that a ghost was a disembodied spirit no longer possessing a material existence, yet on each occasion when the woman in black appeared before me she certainly seemed to be a living person—a fact that clearly and directly demon- strates the'fallacy of my previous-opinions.

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Across Mexico on Horseback. | J By Gitson WILLETS. An absorbing account of a unique journey—a twelve-hundred-mile trip on horseback across the ranchlands, mountains, travellers. and deserts of Mexico, traversing a wilderness but seldom visited by During their tour the author and his companions met with many remarkable experiences and saw many strange sights, which Mr. Willets describes and illustrates with his own photographs. Seal ORSEMAN after horseman loped } Pa} over the crest of the hill that led 4} down into our camp. Still more horsemen, in twos, threes, a dozen at a time, galloped through the mesquite, until fully a hundred riders, all on black mounts, were massed just beyond our circle of tents. Then came a stage-coach drawn by eight mules at full trot, lumbering past the horsemen and stopping at our mess-tent. Out of the cumbersome’ vehicle stepped a dark, handsome young man, Captain Garcia, of the Mexican Reserve Army, and managing owner of the largest ranch in Mexico--the ‘Trevino Ranch, equal in sizeto Rhode Island = in the United States, or to Devonshire in England. Captain Garcia was our host, for the “White City,” as we called our ring of canvas dwellings, stood uponJhis ranch, The hundred vaqueros, or Mexi- can cowboys, who accompanied him were, as I have said, all mounted on black horses. And as he had more than thirteen thou- sand horses on his ranges, he could have come just as well with a hundred horsemen on white horses or grey horses 5-31? OF bays. WecWEre? ig: sornontag-ain: APeRAaRD” DUnIiG told, indeed, that From a) att U e I. HUNDRED-MILE RIDE. Mexican Government officials were often escorted across the ‘Trevino Ranch by as many as six hundred of Captain Garcia’s cowboys, all mounted on horses of one colour and shade. Such is the way they welcome one on the ranches of Mexico. Captain Garcia had come to our camp with his cowboy cavalry to say: “Salute, sehors! The ranch is yours.” ‘Thus were we made to feel at home at our first camp in the State of Coahuila in Northern Mexico, whence we were to start upon a great horseback ride of twelve hundred miles or more westward across the ranches, mésas, mountains, and waste places of the Republic. Our party consisted of more than twenty — capi- talists, engineers, mining experts, and scientists from many different American cities, the news- papers of which re- ferred to our expedi- tion as “one of the most elaborate health-hunt-and- horseback parties ever outfitted in the United States.” “The only other ex- pedition of the kind that can be compared with this one in re- spect toluxuriousness of outfit,” continued one of the newspaper articles, “was the hunt organized some years ago forthe Rus- sian Grand Duke Alexis by Colonel Cody, (Buffalo Bill).” HIS ADVENTUROUS TWRLVE- (Photo.

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 81 CAPTAIN GARCIA, OWNER OF THE BIGGEST RANCH IN MEXICO. from a Vhoto. The objects of our otiting, however, included not only the hunting of big game, but also health and the pleasures to be found in a region where we could live outdoors with comfort in midwinter. Our plan was to ride to “ water” and camp there for a few days; then ride on again to the next “water,” continuing the process for three months. With us we had a number of cowboys and ranchmen, who acted as guides, and a score of Mexican peons, who acted as teamsters, cooks, waiters, and camp attendants. Of course, each member of the party, in the course of our long ride, had his adventures. But it is only those experiences that are characteristic of a Mexican wilderness seldom traversed by strangers that I purpose to relate here. On the ride to our first camp we crossed the Rio Grande—from the American to the Mexican side—at Del Rio, Texas. The crossing was by a primitive ferry, a flat-bottomed boat poled across by a Mexican, the boat being attached by a hawser and pulley arrangement to a rope stretched from shore to shore. The ferryman had to make many trips, for with our extra horses and mules, our stage-coaches, and supply train we formed a caravan a mile long. Vol. xvii.—11, os The Rio Grande at that season was not over one hundred feet wide ; hence on either side of the stream there stretched several hundred feet of dry river-bed. In that exposed bed was quicksand, as the doctor of our party learned too well. Our cowboys had warned us to look out for these quick- sands, which, they said, shifted from day to day and were a perennial terror to riders on that range. While await- ing his turn on the ferry- boat, our doctor galloped up the river - bed. Suddenly we heard him give vent to a shriek of alarm. ‘He's caught! Hurry, boys!” cried one of the cow- boys, and spurred his pony to the rescue. The doctor’s horse, already embedded to his flanks, was struggling madly in the sand, which was doing its pitiless work with awful rapidity. “Stick to your saddle,” shouted the cowboys to the frightened man. Then a lariat was thrown over the doctor’s head. “Get the slip - noose under your arm-pits,” chorused the rescuers. Presently the noose tightened around the doctor's chest, and a cowboy, twisting his vend of the rope around the pommel of his saddle, put spurs to his pony, and the doctor was hauled bodily to safety. “That rope almost squeezed the lungs out of my body,” he said, as he joined us, panting for breath. Ten minutes later his unfortunate horse vanished utterly—a sinister effacement such as can happen only in quicksand. On the Mexican side of the river we entered Las Vagas, the first of the many adobe (mud) villages through which we were to pass during the next ninety days. In the shade of some of ay CROSSING THE RIO GRANDE ON THK PRIMITIVE HERRY-BOAT, From aPhote!

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82 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the huts sat men and women belonging to what is perhaps the laziest race on earth—the peons, the lowest class in Mexico. All, without excep- tion, were smoking cigarettes. We rode forty miles that first day through the mesquite before reaching our first camp at the head-quarters of the beautiful San Diego River, which is owned from source to mouth by Captain Garcia, who came next day, as I have related, to welcome us to his great ranch. His hundred horsemen were to remain as our “guard of honour” during our stay on his land. Those vagueros were all gorgeous in costume and trappings, with jackets, sombreros, and saddle- blankets heavily gold- laced. Wonderful feats of horse- manship by the vagueros became the order of the day. One had a trained horse that performed circus tricks. The rider finally showed us how the animal was trained to attack a mounted enemy. Galloping at full speed up to his opponent the horse would suddenly rear, then bring down both iron-shod forefeet upon the chest of the enemy, thus hurling him from the saddle. The vaguero who rode that trick-horse was said to be the most wonderful roper in Mexico. He showed us how he could sit astride his horse and, going at a gallop, jump horse and rider through a big rope-loop as easily as a schoolboy leaps a string in a playground. But this was not the last I heard of that wonderful roper. While our party was still in camp on the Trevino Ranch I rode with one of the guides to the village of Sabihas. On the way we passed a grave, just off the trail. On a tree near the grave was nailed a wooden cross, bearing the name of the deceased. Such a grave in Mexico almost invariably forms the last resting-place of one who was murdered. “*That’s the grave,” said the guide, as we paused co, THE TRICK-HORSE THAT WAS TRAINED TO KILL AN ENEMY. From a Photo. to read the name on the cross, “of a man who was killed by yonder roper with the circus-horse. The man in that grave proved himself one day, in a roping exhibition, a greater man with the lariat than our vaguero friend back there in camp. In his jealousy our friend stuck a knife into his rival—and here he lies, where the murder was committed.” I learned that murders in Mexico are not often committed by means of firearms, A pistol-shot is noisy, so the murderer uses the silent, stealthy knife. As we neared Sabiiias the guide told me harrowing tales of how unwary strangers are sometimes lured to the edge of a village and there knifed to death “just for your hat,” as the guide put it. He told me further of how an American had been killed with a machete—a sugar-cane_ knife, resembling a short sword — while asleep in his bed in the hotel kept by Chinamen in Sabinas. At that same Chinese hotel we put up for the night. A China- man showed me to aroom. I turned out the light and went to bed, but found that some- thing was wrong with the mattress. I jumped up, and in the dark pulled off the blanket that covered the mattress. Presently my hand encountered a hole, and I lit the lamp to examine it. Then, to my horror, I saw that the mattress around the slit was stained with blood! Somewhat shakily I called to the guide. He came in, taking in the situation at a glance. “Oh, that’s just the gash made by the mache when it was driven through the American the other night,” he said, laughingly. I made up my mind there and then to patronize no more Chinese hotels. I had come to Mexico to sleep in the open, and henceforth in the open I would sleep. I spent the remainder of that night on the veranda, with {my six-shooter cocked ready’ for ‘any skulking’ ‘assassin.

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ACROSS MEXICO ON The next night we returned to camp, to find that one of our party, a judge from Chicago, was missing. A search party was out, and we could hear them firing the usual signal of relief—three But morning came “Send shots in quick succession. and the judge had not been found. Feather-in- Hat,” said our leader. Feather-in-Hat was the chief of the Kickapoos, an almost extinct Indian tribe. He had come to our rendezvous at Del Rio to inform the pale- faces that he was at the service of the hunters of the party who sought big game beyond the Rio Grande. So Feather- in- Hat was with us now. Like all his tribe, he was a re- markable runner. Often he had run more than five hun- dred miles in a week, HORSEBACK. 83° was several days before he recovered his full strength. Feather-in-Hat, on the other hand, showed no sign of fatigue. On the contrary, he went forth into the outer darkness, to reappear pre- sently with a huge log, which he threw on the smouldering camp- fire. In our excite- ment over the return of the judge we had neglected that fire. Now someone set the phonograph going, to celebrate the occasion. From the horn a song in a man’s voice floated forth on the night air. Feather-in- Hat was eating some sort of tinned beef, from the tin itself. He was asked to inspect the phonograph. We showed him the cylinder, or record, by which the instrument produced the song. carrying mails from “What do you, ranch to ranch in think of that?” he Mexico, by short cuts was asked. over mountains and “Umph!” he deep gulches which he grunted. “Me think bridged with tree- “PRATHER-N-HAT,” THE IY DIAN CHIEF WHO TRACKED THE heap tinned white branches. Thus he = from a) MISSING JUDGE. (Photo. | Man. could make better time than a pony through a region, indeed, where only foot-travel is possible. Feather-in-Hat now prepared to seek our lost judge, by divesting himself of all his clothes and girding his loins with a calico sash. As he started off, with his free and open gait, he was certainly a splendid type of the “noble red man.” How he was to find the trail of the missing man was known only to Feather-in-Hat. The next night, however, he returned to camp, half leading, half carrying the almost exhausted judge. Over the runner’s shoulder hung the skin of a mountain sheep. Feather-in-Hat had run fifty miles before overtaking the lost judge, who, once upon the track of that mountain sheep, the most elusive of the game animals of the mountains, determined to follow his prey till one or the other fell. The judge triumphed, but the long chase had taken him above the snow-line, and there, without overcoat or shelter, he spent the first night. He had had no food until his rifle brought down the sheep. Even now he was in a serious plight physically, and it I asked Captain Garcia how he succeeded in managing so vast a territory. “Simply enough,” he replied. ‘“ We divide the million acres of the ranch into farms of from one thousand to two thousand five hundred acres each. In charge of each farm we place a foreman, and as the farms lie from one to fifty miles from the main ranch, each is run inde- pendently. We furnish each foreman with machinery, tools, horses, mules, wagons, and money to pay the peons. From the general stores which we conduct at certain points on the ranch the peons buy their supplies on credit. Many of them, therefore, are for ever in debt to a store, and so they never see the cash that represents their wages. The entire population of a village may be thus in debt, and we call such places ‘moneyless villages.’ “The peons get twenty-five cents in American money (one shilling) a day,” continued the captain. ‘They raise> corn, rice, sugar, and cotton. The: foremen-givéus_a\percentage of

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84 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the proceeds of each crop, and the balance belongs to them. As they raise two, and some- times three, crops a year, the foremen make money. We have some three thousand peons on the ranch, and as most of the peons are family men our total ranch population is about ten thousand souls.” One morning I rode with the captain on his round of inspection of certain farms. We came to a hut, built of logs and rice-straw, with thatched roof, belonging to the = === peon in charge of a_ herd of young pigs. What attracted the captain to the spot was the fact that the swineherd had not been doing his duty as watchman = dur- ing the night, a fact made apparent by the countless little pigs that now hung at various - heights on the barb-wire fence of a corral, all dead. There had been a_ heavy windstorm the night be- fore, something unprecedented in that country, and in their fright hundreds of little pigs had attempted to escape from the corral. In these efforts their bodies had become impaled upon the sharp barbs of the fence, and there they had hung until dead. So Captain Garcia now entered the swineherd’s hut to take him to task for permitting the wholesale slaughter of the innocents. I entered the hut with the captain, and was made acquainted with the facts of a gambling story which was most extraordinary even in that land where all the men and women, and even the children, are inveterate gamblers. On his earth floor the swineherd lay stark- naked save for a breech-clout. Nor was there a thing in the hut except just the naked man, not even a stick of wood or a cooking utensil. Immediately Captain Garcia forgot about the impaled pigs, so curious was he concerning the ONE OF CAPTAIN GARCIA'S FOREMEN, IN CHARGE OF A TWO-THOUSAND-ACRE FARM. From a Photo. plight of his swineherd. ‘“ Where’s your table and your stools?” asked the captain. “Ah, sefior,” the swineherd replied, sadly, “last night I played cards with Pedro, the swineherd on the next farm. And after I had bet all my money I bet my table and stools, and lost them.” “But where’s your mill-stone? How do you hope to make tortillas (biscuit) without a mill- stone? And where are your cooking utensils and your tin- ware for eating, and your pic- tures of the saints, and the iron stove I gave you for burning wood ?” “All gone Pedro’s way, sefor. Even the wood for my fire.” “And your clothes, man? Are they gone too?” “Si (yes), senior — my last serape (blanket) was taken by Pedro!” “And your mule—where’s your mule? “And your wagon? Did you gamble with those— my mule and my wagon, too?” “ Si, sehor—all gone,” he groaned. “But your wife—why is she not here?” “The senora, too, sehor—I gambled even my wife! And Pedro, he packed my household and my wife all in your wagon and took them away with your mule!” So amusing was the situation that Captain Garcia could no longer refrain from laughing outright. An hour later we rode up to Pedro's hut. “Here, you,” said the captain, pretending to be very angry, “ pack that swineherd’s things —eyerything that he gambled to you last night —in my wagon and cart them back to him with my mule. And don’t forget to return his wife.” A week later the great Trevino Ranch was far behind us and we were in the heart of the wild and mountainous ,Sierra Madre,country. This

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 85 THE SCIENTISTS OF THE PARTY EXPLORING AZTEC RUINS. From a Photo. wilderness was a paradise both for the sports- men and the scientists of our party. We were not fifty miles from the railroad representing civilization—for we had travelled parallel with the line of railway—yet all about us were strange tribes of Indians and prehistoric ruins, including cave dwellings and cliff-dwellings of unknown antiquity. Every day some of our party visited the crumbling, yet seemingly imperishable, Aztec houses, built ages before Cortes came to Mexico. Some of our relic-hunters dug in these ruins for bones and skulls, or mummies, while others hunted for specimens of the wonderful pottery, the making of which is now a lost art. They found both mummies and pots, but it should be added that out of respect for the laws of Mexico none of the valuable specimens the party un- earthed were taken out of the Republic. Once one of the scientists returned to camp with news which quickly caught the attention of those of us who preferred to hunt with a rifle rather than with a spade. While exploring one of the cave-dwellings the scientist said he had walked where he believed angels would have feared to tread. That is, he had stumbled into the lair of a bear—a great cinnamon bear—a mother bear, moreover, with two cubs. The scientist had not paused to ascertain whether or not he was welcome. He had run—run as fast as his legs would carry him—to where his horse stood, and had then galloped all the way to camp. Then, to his utter consternation, the scientist was asked to lead a party of hunters to the cave- dwelling wherein dwelt that cinnamon bear. A sickly smile o’erspread the features of the man of science, but he consented, as bravely as he could. Long before daylight the hunters started in order to catch Mrs. Bruin before she went forth to seek what she might pounce upon and carry home to her hungry children. Even so the hunters were too late to find the mother bear at home. The cubs were on the premises, however, and these the hunters captured alive. One of them fought and bit like a THR BIG CINNAMON BEAR WHICH WAS SHOT IN THE SIERRA From a) MADRES. (Photo.

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86 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. grown-up bear, and eventually got away. The other was as docile as a kitten, and was brought to camp. Meantime, two of the hunters went upon the trail of the big cinnamon. They tracked her to a river, and while she lapped the water one of the hunters fired. He only wounded her, and in a flash the bear turned and made for the enemy. Then, at one hundred yards, the hunters dropped her dead. The cub, meanwhile, had become the pet of the camp. When the skin of the mother bear was brought in that cub became the central figure in an incident that was pathetic in the extreme. It was an incident illustrative of the love that passeth understanding even among wild animals. ‘The hunter came in leading a white burro, with the skin of the big bear lying athwart the burro’s back. After one sniff at the skin the cub bounded upon it, clawing and lick- ing it, and uttering cries of joy which soon turned to yelps of grief. Mother was recog- nised ; why did she not respond to baby’s overtures? The bear cub could not understand. Thereafter that cub was not happy a moment unless she was sitting in some hunter’s lap or was being coddled like a child. During the re- mainder of our stay in the Sierra Madres the hunters regarded the cap- tive cub as_ their mascot, calling it “The Luck of Roaring Camp.” During ten days these sportsmen brought in two hundred wild turkeys, fifty deer, two silvertop bears as big as any grizzlies of the Rocky Mountains, and wonderful bags of smaller game. But, while the cub was the symbol of our luck, actual credit for our excellent sport was due to an Indian whose name, as we understood it, was “ Not-Afraid-of-Thunder.” We found this Indian in a village where dwells THE LITTLE BRAR-CUB THAT BECAME THE ‘‘ MASCOT” OF THE PARTY, From a Photo. probably gpe strangest tribe in Mexico. Itisa tribe of Tidians called Mayas, all the members of which ‘have blue eyes, flaxen hair, and fair skin.- These blonde Indians—as fair as the Swedes or the Finns—offered us some corn- cake. While eating the cake we watched a pretty girl—blonde, of course—who was throw- ing pebbles at a young man. “She is proposing marriage to that brave,” said our ethnologist. ‘That's their custom. If the brave throws the pebbles back day after day, whenever the girl thus teases him, the marriage will take place. I saw a couple married here the other day. The ceremony was merely this. The couple’s hands were tied together under a blanket thrown over them, and they were ex- horted to live peaceably with each other. After that everyone drank pudgue—a kind of whisky made from a cactus plant.” For centuries this blonde tribe has lived in the Sierra Madre Moun- tains, and is now almost extinct. Tradition says that the Mayas are de- scendants of the crew and passengers of a Scandinavian vessel that was wrecked on the Mexican coast be- fore Columbus dis- covered the New World. The Mexican Government has never been able to conquer these people. The Indians are nominally under Mexican rule, but are in reality governed by their own chiefs. When- ever the Govern- ment has interfered with them they have taken up arms. They are the allies of the warlike and unconquerable Yaqui Indians, their nearest neighbours, and these two tribes have long been and are still a menace to settlers and travellers in Northern Mexico. The blonde Indians live principally by the chase. After one of their hunters had told us that he knew where deer were to be found we induced him to return with us to our camp, to

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 87 act as guide to our own hunters. This was Mr. “ Not-Afraid-of-Thunder.” Speaking the Spanish of the Mexican peons, he explained that his people knew little of fire- arms, and that they still used bow and arrow. And so, with his bow and arrows, we brought him into camp. Our hunters laughed when he what had been said, for his face flared red with anger. Into the snow he hurled first his bow and next his quiver of arrows. Then, after flashing an ugly glance at the huntsmen, he started along the trail on an easy, steady lope. We shouted to him to come back, reminding him that he had promised to lead us to deer. A CAMP OF THE AUTHOR'S PARTY IN THE MOUNTAINS. From a Photo. told them that his arrows were as good as their bullets in getting deer, but a few days later he was the hero of our camp, for he accomplished a most astounding feat. So thoroughly did Not-Afraid-of-Thunder arouse general enthusiasm in our camp by his stories of herds of deer to be found above the snow-line in the mountains that our whole party, even the scientists, set forth for the day’s sport. On the very edge of the snow-line the trail of a deer was seen. Not-Afraid-of-Thunder said that the trail was a day old, but that, if he was alone, he would get that deer. “What? With a bow and arrow? And the deer a day ahead of you?” exclaimed several of our mightiest huntsmen, incredulously, sneer- ingly. . Whereupon Not- Afraid-of-Thunder insisted that he could not only get the deer, but that he could get it even: without bow and arrow, carry- ing only a knife. Then our mighty huntsmen, speaking among themselves in English, said flatly that they didn’t believe the fellow. Evidently Not-Afraid-of-Thunder understood He wheeled about and stood still long enough to answer: “ You are women. You dare not follow me. I will lead you to the deer that passed here yesterday. You do not believe me. I will show you.” And again he started on that easy, steady lope. “But how do we know that you'll get this particular deer?” someone shouted. For answer the Indian, without stopping, pointed to the tracks in the snow. Obviously, he meant to call our attention to the fact that the hoof of the left forefoot was cloven in a way so peculiar that one could not fail to recognise that hoof, if ever he saw it, as the one that made the track in question. At nightfall we returned to camp without getting even a glimpse of deer. Ours had become a camp divided against itself, some of the party maintaining that Not-Afraid-of- Thunder would not get the.deer and that he would not again show his face in our camp; others arguing that he would get the deer and return to us. Argument became dispute, and there was a display of temper. Five days passed and still there was hard feeling in camp,

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88 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. those who believed in the prowess of the Indian still expressing their confidence that he would “show up.” And on the fifth night Not-Afraid-of- Thunder ad “show up.” We did not see him, for he called in the night and left his card, as it were. On our mess-table we found the hoof of a deer, a hoof of the left forefoot, cloven in a peculiar way! How Not-Atraid-of- Thunder had come into camp, and how he got out again without arousing even our dogs we could only guess. The sight of that. hoof restored harmony in camp. Factional feeling ceased, and in a body we rode the twenty miles to the village of the blonde Indians, determined to bestow upon Not-Afraid-of-Thunder the honours due to him asa mighty hunter. ‘But how did he do it— with only a knife?” the former sceptics asked one another. We found our Indian sitting in front of his hut, calmly smoking his pipe. When we spoke to him he averted his face proudly. So far as we were concerned, he was deaf and dumb until our mightiest hunter—the man who had called the Indian a liar—sat down beside him, lighted his pipe, and smoked as calmly as Not-Afraid- of-Thunder himself. Presently the Indian understood that the “Americano” was smoking the pipe of peace. “You believe?” he asked, turning to our huntsman. For answer the Amcrican opened his tobacco pouch and proffered it to the Indian, At that his face lighted up, and as he filled his pipe with tobacco from the pouch of the white man he promised to return with us again to camp and lead us once more above the snow-line to “plenty deer.” We learned that in getting that deer Not- Afraid-of-Thunder had done only what any of his tribe could have done just as well. When he started upon the track of the deer the fate of that distant animal was inexorably sealed. He came in sight of his prey the first day—far below the snow-line. The moment the deer discovered his pursuer, however, he bounded away, and the Indian was soon again far behind in the chase. Night fell, the deer kept on, and so did the man. The next morning they were well down in the “hot country” and the thirst-maddened deer drank from a stream. That sealed his doom. For while the deer drank copiously, the man remembered that more than a sip of water would interfere with his best physical efforts. The Indian’s tongue hung dry and swollen from his lips, but still, whenever he came to a drinking- place, he was abstemious. And all the time the deer paused not to eat, and the pursuer had naught of food and not a minute of sleep. lay after day the pitiless pursuit continued until, on the fourth day, the deer, with its hoofs dropping off, was able to stagger no farther, and his untiring foe was upon him. Grasping his knife, the Indian rushed to the deer and plunged the blade into the victim's throat. ‘Then he lay down and slept for awhile. When he awoke he sliced off a bit of the deer-meat and ate it raw, afterwards shouldering the carcass and starting for our far-distant camp Creeping _noiselessly into the mess-tent he placed the cloven hoof on the table, as I have said, and crept as noiselessly away. It was with Not-Afraid-of-Thunder as guide that we got fifty deer in ten days. Then, like Arabs, we rolled up our tents and rode away to our next camp, the country in which the allies of Not-Afraid-of-Thunder’s people were on the war-path—the country of the terrible Yaqui Indians, where we were to have a part in strange adventures. (To be continued.)

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By E. St. Joun Harv. Girolamo Gasparini was a convict at the French penal settlement ot Noumea. He and a companion made a daring escape, but were arrested in New Zealand. over to the French authorities when he disappeared unaccountably in mid-ocean. Gasparini was on his way to be handed What became of him remains a mystery to this day to many people—a mystery whose solution is here given, forming a unique record of human endurance and pertinacity. g TTEMPTS at escape on the part of convicts at the great French penal settlement of New Caledonia —attempts which, in the vast majority of instances, end in the recapture of the fugitives—are sufficiently numerous to excite but little attention or interest in the world of the Southern Cross. But one such attempt, some years ago, proved an exception to this rule, partly on account of its unusual features, but mainly because it ended abruptly in a mystery—which remains an enigma to many people, I believe, to the present day. Two convicts, a Frenchman named Cury and Girolamo Gasparini, a Genoese sailor, broke out of prison near Noumea and seized a boat, in which they made an abortive attempt to reach Australia. After enduring great hard- ships for fourteen days, they were picked up at sea by the barque Howard and landed in New Zealand, near the town of Auckland, where, their true character soon becoming known, they were arrested under an extradition warrant and removed to Wellington. Cury was released, as his crime was not an extraditable offence, but Gasparini was handed over to the French Consul. There being no direct steam communi- cation at that time between New Zealand and Vol. xvii. 12. New Caledonia, he was sent to Sydney, where a French military warder was waiting to tranship and conduct him back to the penal settlement. He was shipped in charge of a New Zealand detective on the (N.Z.) Union Company's ss. MWakatipu, but two days before arrival, while the vessel was in mid-ocean, the convict disappeared without leaving a single trace behind. As the ship was ransacked at the time, and again thoroughly and systematically searched by the police on her arrival at Sydney, it was only possible to conclude that Gasparini had fallen, or thrown himself, overboard. As a_ severe additional punishment awaited him on_ his return to prison, the latter theory was almost universally accepted. I had been in New Zealand at the time of the extradition trial, and shortly afterwards returned to Australia. I was a firm believer in the suicide theory, because any other seemed abso- lutely untenable. A sailor does not involun- tarily fall overboard from a steady ship on a calm, bright moonlight night. It was incredible that a man could hide himself on a vessel in such a manner as to escape the notice not only of the officers and ship's company, but of a body of harbour police well versed in all the dodges and devices of stowaways, added to the

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- go The WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fact that the ship had discharged every ounce of cargo at Sydney, and then gone north to Newcastle (N.S.W.) to coal. An escape by swimming was equally out of the question. Not a lifebuoy or support of any kind was missing from the steamer, the nearest land was five hundred miles away, and not a vessel of any description or scrap of floating wreckage had been sighted on the voyage. Eighteen months later I was invited to inter- view Gasparini. My old friend Mr. Ferrandi* was then in sole charge of the Italian Consulate in Melbourne, by reason of the temporary illness of the Consul and the absence on leave of the Vice-Consul. Knowing my interest in adventures of all kinds, he asked me to meet and interview the fugitive, who, in gratitude for services rendered, was willing to tell us his story, of course under a bond of secrecy, with a time limit which has long since expired. Gasparini had come to the Consulate in the character of a distressed Italian seaman—which he certainly was—requiring assistance to obtain a berth on an American ship then on the point of sailing for Rio. Only after this was secured to him did he in confidence reveal his identity, which we verified, together with all his more important statements, by means which the limits of space prevent my setting forth here. Shortly after receiving Ferrandi’s invitation I was at the Consulate confronting the refugee, whom I found sitting with his body bent for- ward, chin resting on his fists, and elbows on his knees. He was clothed in dirty moleskin trousers, a grey and black check flannel shirt without a collar, and a seedy, slop-built cloth jacket. He was under rather than over the average height, but very thick-set and powerfully built, and—as his experiences proved—must have possessed an iron constitution. His massive, bullet-shaped head rested on a short bull-neck almost sunk in the thick, powerful shoulders and chest. The skin of his broad, rather good-humoured face and of his stumpy hands was deeply tanned and lined ; his grizzled black hair was short and showed a tendency to curl, and he wore a close-cropped black moustache. The man would have attracted little or no attention among a group of Italian seamen, and to me nothing in his appearance suggested the fugitive from justice, unless perhaps the watchful restlessness of his beady brown eyes. Gasparini was born at Riomaggiore, near Spezia, he told us, and had been a sailor from his childhood. At one time he had commanded * As this gentleman occupies an important official position, I am compelled to disguise his name. a small sailing craft trading between Genoa and Marseilles, but, having lost her, shipped as a deck-hand on a steamer in the Marseilles and China trade. On returning from one voyage to China he found himself penniless and literally fell among thieves, one of whom, Blachér by name, kept him constantly plied with drink, and while under its influence induced him to assist in burgling the Maison Guionvar on the Boulevard des Dames, Marseilles, from which about seven- teen thousand francs’ worth of jewellery was stolen. For this crime he was arrested and sentenced —quite justly, he admitted—to be deported for eight years’ hard labour, and, with three hundred and seventy-six other prisoners, he sailed on the transport Loire from St. Martin-de-Ré, opposite La Rochelle, for Noumea, New Caledonia. The Italian’s experiences on the transport cannot be dealt with here, nor more than a passing allusion be made to his life in the prison. ‘The principles underlying the penal system of New Caledonia were for the most part excellent, but the practice the very reverse. The higher officials were humane, save for their too great readiness to accept the testimony of their underlings, who, in many instances, proved themselves petty tyrants of the worst stamp. From an Englishman's point of view the treat- ment of the convicts was in many respects absurdly lenient ; but, on the other hand, some of the punishments were ferociously severe. A prisoner was guillotined for flinging a glass of wine over a warder’s white trousers—though it is only fair to add that the said warder perjured himself up to the gullet by swearing that the- prisoner had tried to murder him. For stealing a pair of trousers wherewith to aid an abortive attempt to escape, for escaping and being at large for ten days, and for some trifling breaches of prison discipline, Gasparini was awarded sen- tences which in the aggregate totalled forty years’ imprisonment additional to the termi for which he had been sent from France. Of his fellow-prisoners—the scum of French criminality—he had scarcely one good word to say. He was an eye-witness of two prison murders of convicts by convicts, the mere recital of which made our blood run cold with horror. He was not an innocent man or a man of the slightest refinement or education. He was of the toughest and commonest fibre of which men are made, and yet he esteemed no risk too great to run to escape from his abominable surroundings. Curiously enough, the conviets, when employed on work outside the prison, are allowed, under certain conditions, to-earn a small percentage 2

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THE GASPARINI MYSTERY. 91 for themselves ; and Gasparini, having by this means amassed a sum of money, spent a portion thereof on the secret purchase of a large, strong knife, which he successfully concealed. With this he literally cut his way out of prison, or, to be more explicit, hacked a hole in the walls (composed of the bark of the nioli tree) of the large hut or rough barracks in which the road- gangs are housed at night, when he was supposed to be asleep. ‘The night being very dark, he succeeded in crawling through this aperture and climbing the en- circling stone wall undetected, while the sen- tries were being changed. He then concealed himself in the house of a /béré —a Genoese friend who had promised, and kept his pro- mise, to help him to the end. “T+ was not going to escape alone,” said Gasparini. “Tsotiér, the prison baker, had conspired to escape with me, and soon afterwards joined me. But when I pointed out the boat I had planned to take, and in which I intended trying to make the Australian coast, the sight of her frightened him, and he refused to go. “ Jere was a difficulty ! I could not go alone, as I should want to get some sleep, so I returned to my friend and asked him if he knew of any- one who would go.” Ultimately the friend produced Cury, formerly a wine and lace merchant in France, convicted on four occasions of fraudulent bankruptcy, for which he had been sentenced to ten years’ transportation. The choice of this man was most deplorable, as it eventually proved. “The craft I stole,” Gasparini continued, “was a Chinaman’s fishing-boat, about seventeen feet long and partly decked, which was laid up near my friend’s house every week from Saturday till Monday. My plans being suspected, for ‘weeks that boat was watched by armed sentries in ambush, but when I had been out of prison a “HE HACKED A HOLE IN THE WALLS OF THE HUT.” for two months the watch was abandoned. So one Sunday morning at the hour of two, when it was very dark and a strong land breeze was blowing, we waded out to the boat—which I had provisioned with a certain amount of water, four litres of cognac, four tins of meat, some biscuit and chocolate, all of which I had paid for—and got away. “The wind was strong and the boat sailed well, but it was two days before we could pierce the reefs encircling the island. At last we sighted a mountain height on the coast, and, having landed, climbed to the top fora good view sea- ward. We were in deadly fear of being caught by the French, or of being shot by the wild Canaques, who, in their insur- rection a few years back, killed over a hundred con- victs in the first two days. Still, there was no- thing else to do, and from the top of the mountain, to our great joy, we saw an opening, and getting back to the boat sailed through it. “Once outside the reefs we made great way. Madre di Dio, how it blew! I could only shape our course before the wind, and dared not use any sail but the jib—so.” With pencil and paper he showed us how he unshipped his bowsprit and, using it as a yard, made fast the foot of the jib to either end, and turned it into a square sail. The task before the fugitives was roughly to cover seven hundred miles of the Pacific Ocean if they attempted to reach Australia, or eleven hundred if they tried to make New Zealand. “Cury was of no use,” continued the Italian. “ He knew nothing of boats, was always seasick, and very ill in other ways, and for the fourteen days we were at sea I scarcely once left the tiller and never lay down. Sometimes I could sleep a little with it in my hand, but I was just dropping from exhaustion) when we were

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92 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. rescued. Eight days out from New Caledonia we lost our rudder. A huge sea came over us, swamping the boat. I got the oars out with difficulty, being half-drowned, and by pulling like a madman managed to keep her head to the sea. I yelled to Cury to bale her, but he cried out that we were lost, and it was no good. He drank a bottle of cognac straight off, making himself dead drunk, and lay down helpless, so I had to pull with one hand and bale with the other as well as I could, while he slept off his “() MANAGED TO KEEP HEK HEAD ON TO THE SEA.” drunkenness. He ate scarcely anything—only two kilogrammes of biscuit in ten days. “When the sea calmed down a bit I managed to rig an oar in place of the rudder, but the wind had died away to nothing, and while I was busily at work the boat’s head fell away into the trough of the sea, and we were nearly capsized. By threats I managed to make Cury use an oar to keep her head on to the sea while I finished my work, but generally he did nothing but weep and curse me for bringing him into danger. ‘The cowardly brute would make no effort even to save his own life—and when we got into safety it was he who betrayed us! “Shortly after this another squall struck us and carried away the spar we used fora yard, and I had the greatest difficulty in replacing this and attending to the steering at the same time. “On the fourteenth day out we sighted the topsails of a barque. I was for keeping out of her way and still trying to make the mainland of New Zealand—-we had been driven too far to the south for Australia—as I was afraid those on board the ship might give us up, but Cury implored me to steer for her, saying he would surely die before we could reach land, and this was his only chance. He swore he could success- fully deceive the captain as to who we were. The barque, we discovered, was the Howard, and when we got to within hailing distance Cury fell on his knees and cried out, ‘Take me on board for the sake of my two daughters!’ On the ship he told the captain we were New Cale- donian fishermen, blown off the coast.” As mentioned in the beginning of this article, the two castaways were landed at Helens- ville, whence they walked to Auck- land. In this city Cury made the acquaintance of a compatriot and also of a reporter, to whom he gave a garbled account of his recent experi- ences, with the re- sult that his version of the story ap- peared in an Auck- land paper, leading to the arrest of the two fugitives, their transference to Wellington, Cury’s subsequent release, and the shipment in custody of Gasparini. Some of the kind-hearted Wellington folk, sympathizing with the man’s pluck and misfortunes, made an unsuccessful attempt to have the extradition warrant set aside. The JWakatipu, in which Gasparini sailed from Wellington for Sydney in charge of Detective Walker, was a comfortable, but not particularly fast, single-screw steamer, with a (gross) registered tonnage of one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven tons. The detective had his passage taken first-class in the saloon, which was amidships, while Gasparini berthed aft in the steerage. The former con- siderately removed the convict’s handcuffs as soon as the steamer was in blue water, feeling confident in his own mind of the impossibility of escape. Gasparini could thus move about the ship to much the same extent as any other steerage passenger, though the detective presum- ably kept him more or less under surveillance.

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THE GASPARINI MYSTERY. 93 “On board the steamer,” said Gasparini, “I seemed to interest many from the moment we cast off our moorings. Someone or other was always coming up to talk to me—or trying to talk, for I understood and could speak but little English. Even passengers from the saloon would come and speak to me—I think they thought I should be guillotined when I got back to Noumea, and for all I could tell it might be so. In any case I was doomed to imprisonment for the rest of my life. Ah, it was miserable this recapture, after going through so much! Imprisonment for the rest of my life! I would not go back, I swore T would never go back ; I would die or escape, but I would not see New Caledonia again! The crew, of course, used to talk to me, and among them I dis- covered, to my great joy, a fellow-countryman— a Genoese, who was one of the ship’s firemen. You see, it was natural two compatriots should like to talk together in their own language, so his being much with me excited no suspicion. “From him I learnt all I wished to know about the ship. I am a sailor, and had worked on many steamships, but I wanted to know more of the arrangements of this particular ship, in case it might be useful. He even took me down to the stokehold and engine-room at night, when no one was noticing us, and let me have a guod look about me. I asked him if he would help me to escape, but he said he dared T felt not, for it would get him into trouble. sure, if he could, he would act as a friend. “I formed a plan in my mind, and determined to try it. I at once set about making my pre- parations, but, try in every way I could think of, I could not get to where the ship’s provisions were stored without being seen; so all I could man- age to lay hands on and conceal about me were two slices of bread, and two oranges and two apples taken from some cases form- ing part of a deck- cargo of fruit. “T then waited and watched all that day and night for a chance to get down below, but none came, for someone always seemed to have eyes on me. “The night after—or, rather, at four in the morning, when the watch changed -- the engineer on duty came up on deck for a moment, and then I made my attempt. The engineer tried to light his pipe—three times I counted—but the wind blew the matches out. “There was a cow-pen on the deck and a tarpaulin had been rigged in front of this to give shelter from the weather, so that it formed an angle. The engineer walked into this corner to be out of the wind, and I heard him strike another match. “In that moment I was past him, and made my way down into the engine-room without his observing me. I stepped through the open water-tight door of the bulkhead down into the shaft tunnel, and walked quickly aft along it. In doing so I brushed against a man. I have never been able to understand why he did not see me. But even if it was not my Genoese friend,* another might easily have mistaken me for one of his mates, for at the time the watch changes they are all moving about, as the men have to put their hands on all the bearings to report to the engineer if any are becoming heated. “T walked aft to more than half-way between the engines and the stern, and then, stooping under the shaft—after seeing that there was no one in the tunnel—lifted one of the plates of the tunnel floor- ing, got into the opening feet fore- most, worked my body along the bottom, and then, lying almost on my back, with very great diffi- culty replaced the floor - plate over the open- ing above my face.” Lest my readers are not well acquainted with a steamship’s in- ternal fittings, I will attempt some explana- tion, though, of * The man alluded to was not the Genoese and did notice a stranger, but “forgot” to report ithe circumstance, “WALKED QUICKLY. AFT, ALONG (Cl

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94 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. course, the arrangements differ in detail in different types of vessels. On entering the engine-room from the main deck you see nothing but the upper parts of the giant cylinders, but descending the iron ladder you land almost at the spot on the iron grating where the engineer on duty “ stands by,” facing the steam-gauges and the dial-plate connected with the bridge telegraph, the various levers for controlling the engines, and, a pace or two farther forward and reaching to a great height, the complication of steam yalves, cylinders, feed- pipes, piston-rods, and shafting comprising the engines themselves. Just aft of the engine- room in most vessels is a water-tight bulkhead shutting off the aftermost compartment of the ship, along the centre of which, in its bearings, runs the shaft of the propeller. Access to this compartment or tunnel is gained by means of a small water-tight door—always open except in case of accident—and a step or two down, the floor of the tunnel being a few feet lower than that of the engine-room. ‘he flooring at the bottom of the tunnel, in some ships of wood and in others of iron, has at intervals a section or plate which lifts up, admitting into ‘the bilge,” as seamen call it, or the space between the floor and the actual bottom of the ship. The depth of the bilge in a steamer the size of the ]}akatipu runs from perhaps four feet at its deepest to two feet or less according to the run of the ship, and the same is true of its width. At the bottom—the true bottom of the hull, except in the case of double-bottomed ships— which is coated with the strongest cement obtainable, the leakage or “ bilge-water ” and the oil from the shaft bearings accumulate. The bilge is provided with pumps and valves to clear this away, and the lifting plates or boards are made to admit of a man getting partly in to clear out this liquid matter when it accumulates to too great an extent. ‘This, however, is only done at long intervals, and when the ship is in port. It was in this bilge, then, and in the narrowest part of it—much nearer the stern than the engine- room —that Gasparini hid himself. “Tt was horrible!” Gasparini continued, “ the most horrible place I have ever been in. I did not notice this so much at first, for I was shaking in every limb—quaking with fear that every moment the plate would be lifted and the detec- tive would haul me out and put me in irons ; that someone had seen me enter, and that sooner or later my hiding-place would be discovered. “Sure enough, after what seemed ages to me, I heard many heavy footsteps overhead on the floor of the tunnel—the sound of more men than the duties of the ship would require to be there, unless something had gone wrong with the machinery. From this I judged that it must be daylight, that I had been missed, and that every part of the ship was being visited in search of me ; but, fortunately, no one thought of looking for me in the bilge.” This is not surprising, for to the best of my knowledge, based on innumerable inquiries on numberless ships, no stowaway before or since has ever dreamt of seeking such an extraordinary place of concealment, and not one man in a thousand, probably, would survive any lengthened confinement there. “When I got over this alarm,” continued the Italian, “ many other fears oppressed me. Oh! it was horrible in there --so pitch-dark that I might as well have been blind! I knew not il it was night or day. ‘Then I had intended hiding farther forward, where there was more room, but in my hurry had gone too far aft, where the bilge was so shallow that I felt as if I was in a coffin with the lid on. It was so low that I could only raise my body a little on my elbows, and after a while the pain of remaining like that was so great that I lay down full length on my back. I was lying in several inches of oil and filthy bilye-water, which stank abomin- ably. As this soaked into my clothes and slushed about me as the ship rolled I wondered how long it would be before enough accumulated to wash over my face and suffocate me. I had the greatest difficulty in breathing as it was, and I thought I had very little chance of coming out of that shaft tunnel alive. “It seemed to me as if I was in that place months—years. I can’t tell you how I felt ; sometimes it was as though I was mad, and at others everything was a blank to me. I soon ate the fruit and the bread, sodden with bilge- water as it was, and then had to endure hunger and a raging thirst. “ After many years, as I felt it, I awoke from a kind of stupor to find there was no movement and no noise. ‘Then I realized that the engines must have stopped and we were in port. Being determined at all risks to get fresh air and water, I got out of my hole with great difficulty, and, closing it up again, cautiously made my way out of the tunnel.” He had been in his foul retreat from four o'clock on Wednesday morning till the follow- ing Friday midnight—a period of sixty-eight hours! The Wakatipu had moored to the wharf at Sydney on the Thursday at 2 p.m., and Gasparini must have been in a deep sleep or prolonged stupor—doubtless induced by the foul air—not to have been aware of the fact earlier. This, as the event proyed, made for his

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THE GASPARINI MYSTERY. 95 safety, for on crawling from his lair and finding, as he had hoped and more than half expected, his Genoese friend on the look-out for him, the latter told him that the ship was closely watched and escape was simply impossible. He gave the fugitive a drink of water, some bread and meat, and a bottle of tea, and with this mitigation of his miseries Gasparini again descended into his hiding-place, where he was doomed to spend yet another forty-eight hours. The Wakatipu left Sydney at 10 a.m. on Sunday and arrived at Newcastle (N.S.W.) towards evening on the same day; as the detective was returning to New Zealand by the steamer, he of course remained on board. “At what I afterwards found to be nearly midnight,” said Gasparini, “I again crawled from the bilge, and crept out of the tunnel without anyone seeing me. When in port, with the engines stopped and no one on duty below, this was not difficult. Without making any noise I reached the deck, and there found my faithful Genoese fireman, who told me the “1 RRACHED THE DECK AND THERE FOUND MY FAITHFUL GENOESE FIREMAN." detective had been playing cards in the saloon from nine till ten, but had now turned in, and all was quiet fore and aft. “Then my friend brought me a razor and I quickly shaved off my beard. He gave me some directions for the future—where to go and what to do--and then he brought me a change of clothes and four shillings and a sixpence, which was all he had, bade me addto, and kept watch while I crept away from the ship.” The rest is soon told. He struck the railway line to Sydney and followed it, walking fast till daybreak, when, coming to a river, he bathed and changed his clothes. After four days’ hard walking he reached Sydney, where some Italians treated him kindly, and thenceforward for seventeen months he tramped the Colonies of New South Wales and Victoria, remaining strictly honest, seeking, and with a sailor’s aptitude turning his hand to, all kinds of work, from that of a railway navvy to that of gargon de cuisine at the French Club in Melbourne, where—by an amusing coinci- dence—he assisted in preparing the dinner given by the members to M. Noel Pardon, the then Governor of New Caledonia. Twice he thought he was recognised by people who knew his identity—on the second occasion, two days- before I met him, by none other than the captain of the barque Howard, which had first picked him up! “T passed him walking near the Custom-house,” said Gasparini, “‘and he stopped suddenly and stared so hard that I knew in a second he thought he had recognised me. Che paura! 1 pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to be wiping the sweat from my forehead, so that he might not see my face, in case he was not cer- tain. It seemed to me I stood there an hour, every moment expecting to hear him raise his voice and call for the police. The cold sweat streamed down my face and body—there was no need of pretence —and I already felt I was on my way back to Noumea. At last I could bear it no longer, and, forcing myself to take my hand down from my face, I looked around me. He was gone!” Two days after I listened to his story Gasparini sailed for Rio asa hand before the mast, and I have never seen or heard of him again.

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A Snake Hunt in Florida. By G. R. O'REILLY. Many people have an idea that snakes are slow-moving things, only capable of wriggling tortuously along the ground. That the reverse is the case with certain species this exciting narrative shows. The author is a veteran snake-collector of over twenty-five years’ experience, and here relates the story of his chase and capture of a ‘“‘coach-whip"—the “greyhound of the serpent tribe ”"— which seems equally at home on land, in the water, or up a tree. of the biggest, most graceful, and most elegantly formed is the “coach - whip” of Florida. ‘To naturalists he is known as Bascanion fagelliforme. He is generally about six or seven feet in length and an inch and a half to two inches in diameter at his thickest part. In colour he is greyish-drab or yellowish-grey, and consequently difficult to see on a ground of sand and withered leaves, beneath the partial shade of the thickets of low bushes, where he seeks and chases his birds and field-rats. Only those who have beheld him at large in his native haunts can have any adequate idea as to the astonishing rapidity of his movements. On land, in water, and among the branches of the trees he can dash away with a quickness that is marvellous. When the summer sun is high overhead and the very earth is heated by his rays the “ coach-whip” basks in the light and warmth. Sometimes he lies at length in shadows that are broken by spots of sunlight. At other times you will see him stretched along on the tops of the bushes. Your view of him, in these cases, will be but momentary. You may occasionaliy get a good louk at him while sunning himself in some open spot in the early morning, but the moment you take a step towards him he vanishes from your sight. His eyes are unusually large, black, and golden-tinted. He is ever on the watch for enemies or for prey. Not a leaf quivers in his vicinity but he sees it ; not a grasshopper jumps anywhere nigh him but he instantly turns his head to look at it. At the slightest sign of danger be darts off like an arrow, leaving no trace behind him to tell whither he has gone. Until I came to Florida I thought myself able to capture alive any snake, no matter how large, how dangerous, or! zw active. In Europe, Africa, or tropical America I had never met a species which I failed to secure. What, then, was my chagrin at finding this long, whip-like snake more than my match! During my first two years in Florida I saw only one, and that escaped me. During my third year, however, I set out in earnest to pro- cure a pair of them for my collection. One after another I saw six different specimens ; and although the moment I laid eyes on one I would rush away in chase of him, yet in every instance I failed to catch him. The “ coach-whip” is, un- doubtedly, the greyhound of the serpent family. Returning home exasperated after my sixth failure, | vowed to spend a week in special training before going out again after ‘“ coach- whips.” I saw that I wasn’t quick enough ; I must practise for quickness. Day after day I exercised at running, darting now to one side and then to the other, making sudden leaps backwards, forwards, and sideways, using my long stick at the same time, in catching imaginary “ coach-whips.” At the weck’s end I considered myself fit. During the next two months I saw seven of these agile snakes and caught every one. But I always found it difficult. In the spring of 1901 I was living alone in an old house afar off in the woods on the south side of ‘Trout Creek—a broad inlet from the St. John's River, some miles below Jacksonville, Florida. Before the sun rose in the morning I had gone away up the creek in my boat to observe water-snakes, for I wished to study their habits and solve some problem concerning them. About two hours before noon I was on my way home. My boat was well out on the creek, at a place where it was a good quarter of a mile from land on either side. Right ahead were some floating islands of water-hyacinths, bloom- ing all over with lovely violet-tinted flowers ; and as the water-snakes often coil among these drifting gardens 1 lay to upon my oars to try if I could see any. I could distinguish every speck, even afar off, for the water was as smooth as glass—a liquid mirror in which the blue sky and the trees along the shore were reflected perfectly. In every direction I scanned the water as well as the beds of floating hyacinths, but no water- snake could I discover. All at once I noticed, half-way out from the

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A SNAKE HUNT northern shore, something that seemed to be either a snake or a turtle coming towards me. Its head was held high above the surface, and as it came nearer I could perceive a sinuous trail behind it. From this I knew it to be a snake. He was swimming rapidly, and was making directly towards my boat. As soon as I noticed this I quietly pulled in my oars and waited. Soon he was near enough for me to distinguish the blackish head and fawn-coloured neck of the “coach-whip ”—the first of these snakes I had ever seen swimming. Delighted with my discovery, I sat still, as if 1 and my boat were only parts of a dead tree-trunk be- calmed on the creek. I hoped he would climb aboard along with me, because, if you do not betray yourself by moving, snakes will often- times approach you, not recognising you for a living being. On he swam, until he became aware that I was something to be suspicious of, for when he got within twenty feet of me he stopped and raised his head higher. I could see clearly his large bright eyes and his busy tongue running out repeatedly and held for an instant in the air, its black, thread-like points trembling in- quiringly, glistening in the sunshine, and reflected in the water. What to do now I knew not. I was fever- ishly anxious to get him, but how could I at such a distance? Perhaps he would yet come to the boat and climb up on the gunwale. I resolved to wait. As the slightest stir would alarm him I dared not even move my eyes, and held them fixedly watching him until, from very fatigue of keeping them unblinkingly open, they filled with tears. For two or three minutes we gazed at each other. At last his tail waved to and fro, and I saw that he was slowly advancing. Nearer and nearer he worked himself, until at first his head and then the whole of him was hidden from my view by the intervening gunwale. Every second now I expected to sce him com- ing in over the side. As he had approached the boat at my left as I sat with my back to the bow, I thought he would board her at the same spot just by my elbow; so I held my hand open teadv to grab him as soon Vol. xvii. 13, ‘““THE STARTLED SNAKE SHOT OUT FROM HIS)QOILA") IN FLORIDA. 97 as he showed himself. But the moments passed and he didn’t appear. Yet still I watched the gunwale at my elbow, wondering at his delay. ‘To look over the side was out of the question, for the slightest movement would undoubtedly cause him to dash away. Letting my eyes run slowly aft, I saw to my surprise that he was already aboard, coiled in the sun, on the seat by the tiller! But to catch him now on the stern seat was just as much a difficulty as ever. He was too far out of my reach to grab for him without moving ; so I sat as I was, quite motionless, revolving in my mind the different methods I might adopt to get hold of him. Finally, 1 decided to try to snare him with a noose attached to the long snake stick, which lay at my feet in the bottom of the boat. To get this stick without scaring him away was a matter calling for exceeding slowness and caution. Gently my hand went downwards, moving almost imperceptibly, at the rate of about half an inch in every second, my eyes all the time being fixed on the snake. Already I had my fingers around the stick, but slowly as I had moved I saw that he had noticed me, for his tongue was now coming out with an extra inquisitive slowness and deliberation, which told me clearly that he knew me to be something alive—something to watch and beware of. I was drawing the stick upwards; I had got the end of it over the thwart on which I was sitting, but—my eyes being fixed on the snake— I could not watch how my hands were working ; so it unfortunately occurred that the stick touched the oar lying on the thwart, rolling it over. Instantly the startled snake shot out from

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98 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. his coil and over the gunwale, swimming rapidly off. Off I went, too, in chase of him. At the first plunge of the oars he started as if with an electric shock, and his tail splashed up the water as he accelerated his speed. As fast as well- trained muscles could make my light boat forge ahead I pursued him. I pulled on the oars till I thought they would snap every moment. Every fibre of my body was strung to overtake him, but I soon realized that pursuit was useless, for before I had rowed long the ‘“ coach-whip ” had gained a hundred yards ahead of me. He seemed to glide away over the surface rather than to swim. Seeing no possibility of catching him in the water, I lay to, not far from the bank, and sat still to watch for the spot he would land at, for I was doggedly determined to make him my prisoner. Two negro fishermen were camping on the bank at the very spot where he went ashore. They sat smoking in the shade of a cabbage palm, by the smouldering embers of a burnt-out fire. Now the snake’s attention was so taken up with me, his pursuer, that he could not have seen the negroes at all; nor did they see him till he glided on swiftly between them and their “WITH A SHOUT fire. Then, with a shout of alarm, they jumped to their feet. “Where did he go to?” I called out. “Towards those bushes,” said they, pointing to a few young oaks standing together, about a hundred yards inland from the water. Running the boat ashore, I jumped out and ran up on to the bank above the fire. The ALARM THEY JUMPED TO THEIK FEET. ground beyond was level and almost bare ; for the grass had recently been burnt off, and only a sparse showing of sprouting blades had begun to cover the blackened surface. Nowhere over this burnt land could I see the “coach-whip,” so I concluded that he must indeed have gone on to the clump of young oaks pointed out by the negroes. Hunted snakes are the best of strategists, and this was the nearest piece of cover. I knew that if I entered that little thicket alone he would most probably escape me by gliding away out of it unseen the very moment he noticed me disturbing leaves and branches. Therefore I did not immediately go thither, but turned to the negroes with the idea of engaging them to help me. They proved to be difficult to persuade, and I had to spend a good quarter of an hour in explaining to them how harm. less “ coach-whips ” are— using the very nicest diplomacy— before they would consent to assist me. We were still talking when a mocking-bird on the top of a dead tree-trunk, towering up above the clump of little oaks where the snake had taken refuge, began to utter loud notes of alarm and distress. Presently came also her mate, who added to the noise. “See that?” said I. “ Those mocking - birds have a nest there, and the ‘coach-whip’ is about to rob it, otherwise they would never be so alarmed at sight of him.” I had hardly spoken when both birds darted down among the tops of the thicket, giving quicker utterance to still more vehement cries. “Now,” said I, “if one of you will stand about twenty feet off on this side of the clump, and the other twenty feet off on that side, so that you can command a view all round it, I will run in among the bushes to catch him. If he bolts out, be sure to tell me at once where he goes to.” Accordingly both black men took up their positions to watch all around outside, while I burst in through the thicket towards the spot where the birds were chattering. I had not gone six paces when I knew that the snake had caught one of the birds, for she cried most pitifully. On 1 went, faster and faster,

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A SNAKE HUNT IN FLORIDA. 99 Yes! There, above my head, among the leaves, was the long, bright-eyed “coach-whip ” holding the mocking-bird, fluttering and squeak- ing, in his jaws. On the branch beside him was the nest. Upwards I sprang and grabbed for him; but he was too quick for me. Releasing the bird, he darted off—so abruptly that he was gone from my sight like a flash. At once I began to peer about, trying to get sight of him, but without moving from the spot where I stood, because, if not pursued, the for they feared to venture closer lest he should drop into one of the boats. I called to them to know if they could see the snake, for I myself failed to do so, but they could not locate him. However, he was certainly in the oak still, for he had not dropped to the water while they were coming around with the boats, and otherwise he couldn’t have left the branches, for no other tree grew near. I got astride a lower limb and sat still, trying to discover him. Yes; there he was, not more “UP THE INCLINED TRUNK ME GLIDED EASILY.” “coach-whip” will generally go but a few yards and then stop to watch you. “There he goes! there he goes!” sang out one of the negroes. Out of the bushes I tore my way, and sawin the open the long, yellowish- grey “coach-whip” shooting swiftly ahead over the burnt-off ground. As fast as fleet running could carry me I raced after him, but he had too much start for me to overtake him. He was making straight for an ancient oak with spreading branches, growing on the bank above the shore and leaning over the water. Up the inclined trunk he glided easily. Three seconds later I was shinning up the tree behind him; but when I had ascended half-way it struck me that if I chased him through the branches he would dive to the water beneath and escape by swimming. Therefore I begged the negroes to take each one a boat—their own and mine—and go out on the creek to head him off. To this they consented, and were soon beating their splashing oars on the water well out beyond the branches ; than six or eight feet above my head, as motion- less as the branch on which he lay. His head peeped out over the side of it, eyeing me, other- wise I should never have noticed him, for only small curves of his body were apparent at places, and he was of such a colour—fawn and grey—as to be almost undiscernible among the drab and yellowish olive tints of the surrounding boughs. " Getting up from my sitting position I stood upon the limb I had straddled and tried to reach him, whereupon he sped away among the leaves, so that I lost sight of him. But the men in the boats saw him almost immediately on the other side of the tree hanging down over the water. As they thought he wanted to drop they re-commenced splashing with their oars, yelling at him to deter him. I made my way to where he was, but again he darted away. And so, I pursuing and he evading me, this chase through the branches continued for some time. During this pursuit from branch to branch

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THE WIDE WORLD “HE INSTANTLY TUKNED AND KIT ME FIEKCELY. he was aiways higher up than I was. Happening, after a bit, to get on the same bough with him, I began, very stealthily, to make my way out to him ; but he cleverly eluded me by dropping five or six feet to a limb beneath. Once more I lost sight of him, but the negroes saw him and began to cheer. ““He has gone into a hole in the body of the tree,” they said. ‘‘ Now you can get him!” Climbing downwards I saw the hole and made my way to it. My face came just on a level with it. I peeped in, and there was the “coach-whip” at bay, with his jaws agape. Evidently he was highly excited. He shook his tail tremblingly, so that it made a buzzing sound, somewhat similar to that of a rattle- snake, from its vibrating against the decaying walls of his narrow hiding-place. Though I stood there on the branch, looking into the hole, with my face within twenty inches of him, yet he never bit at me ; but his open jaws, his great glistening eyes, and quivering tongue tips looked threatening enough to terrify anyone not quite sure of his innocence of venom. MAGAZINE. Steadying myself upon the limb which gave me foothold, I brought both hands to the mouth of the opening, and was getting ready to run in my arm when he made a sudden spring out over my shoulder. But my hands were too quick for him, and clutched as he passed my fingers. It was low down on the body, near the tail, that I got hold of him, so that he instantly turned and bit me fiercely, causing my hands to bleed a little in several places. As quick as I could 1 got him by the head, whereupon he writhed and thrashed his long body and tail about like a whip-lash. But, in spite of his efforts to escape, I forced him into a bag I had with me, and soon had him at home in a glass- fronted cage—one of the finest specimens in my collection, seven feet and a_ half in length. Without the help of the two negroes I should certainly have lost him. THE AUTHOR, MR. G. R. O'REILLY, HULDING UP THE CAPTURED “‘ COACH-WHIP" SNAKE. From a Photo,

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Odds and Ends. A Postal Curiosity—“ Running the Gauntlet "—Houses That Come to Life, etc. OST of our readers have at times, no f doubt, had letters returned to them by the Post Office bearing some such official stamp as “ Not Known,” “Gone Away,” or “Unclaimed.” Such a comment, however, as that borne by the envelope here reproduced in facsimile must be extremely rare. Mr. F. G. Kiny, the addressee, was a contributor to this Magazine, and when a letter sent to him by us was returned, bearing the curious inscription, “Lost on Mount Egmont, May rgth, 1905,” we applied to the postal authorities for an explanation. In reply the secretary of the New Zealand G.P.O. very courteously forwarded us some extracts from the Taranaki Herald, from which it will be seen that poor Mr. King’s fate is an unsolved mystery, and appears likely to remain so. Mount Egmont, it should be explained, is a favourite resort for tourists in New Zealand. Mr. King arrived at the Mountain House there on Friday, May rath. Here is what the caretaker has to say concerning his strange disappearance: “He told me that he had come to stay a week, [ ; ya as the doctor had | _faeck Peet* ordered him a rest. As | the weather cleared a bit | on the Saturday after- noon, King went for a walk, returning about five in the evening. He i said that he had passed Humphries’ Castle and ; reached the scoria. He | remarked that it would be quite easy for him to getto the top, and if it was fine ! on the following Monday he intended to try. I tried to persuade him against | this, telling him about the danger, and of others who had lost their lives | through climbing too late , in the season, and going . , alone. On Monday : morning King _ started for the top. I again tried to dissuade him, telling him that if he left it until the weather was more settled I would go with him, but he seemed quite confident about being able to reach the top. Just before King left the house I asked him if he would like me to go with him, and he said: ‘No, don’t trouble. I don’t suppose there are any dragons to eat me up above.’ He also remarked in a joking way that he supposed he would be as near the angels as he ever would get when he reached the top. Before leaving I gave him an iron-shod stick, a water-bottle, and a leather satchel to carry his dinner in. He also put a piece of mirror into his bag, remarking that he would flash if the sun was strong enough.” That was the last that was seen of poor King, alive or dead. When he failed to return search-parties scoured the mountain, though their task was rendered xtremely difficult: by blizzards of snow and rain. No trace of the unfortunate man was iscovered anywhere, and up to the moment of writing his body has not been recovered. a . ot AN UNUSUAL PUST UF FICK COMMENT—" LUST ON MOUNT RGMONT, MAY 19TH, 1905. —KEHIND THESE WORDS LIES THE STORY OF THF TRAGIC AND MYSTFRIOUS FATE WHICH BEFELL A“ WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE” CONTRIBU LOR,

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102 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. VisiToRS ‘‘ RUNNING THE GAUNTLET” ON ARRIVAL AT SANTA CATALINA ISLAND, CALIFORNIA—SRLF-CONSCIOUS From a) Bashful and self-conscious people should beware how they visit Santa Catalina Island, a popular resort about forty miles from Los Angeles, California. As the boat from the latter city approaches the dock the pleasure-seekers on shore crowd to the gateway, where a white line on the ground marks the small path left for the passengers to pass through and be inspected. This inspection is usually a very trying expe- rience. A good-looking young man who has not been sea-sick generally enjoys the situation, especially as there are usually ten pretty “summer girls” to one man; but woe unto the hapless members of the fair sex on board They are generally feeling very, very qualmish, and have no oppor- tunity to arrange their hair or see that their hats are on straight ere they face the battery of critical eyes outside. People have been known to refuse an invitation to this beautiful island in preference to “running the gauntlet” on landing. Fishermen as a class are con- servative folk, and do not hanker after new-fangled innovations in connection with their craft. Here, however, 1s seen a photograph show ing how an ingenious Jamaican, living near the town of Montego Bay, converted his ‘little sail 4 Home-mave ° ing smack into a_ species of From a) PEOPLE HAVE BERN KNOWN TO REFUSE AN INVITATION SOONER THAN UNDERGO THE ORDRAL, (Photo. motor-boat. We say “species” advisedly, for the propeller seen at the boat’s stern is worked dy hand! When it falls calm the inventor vigorously whirls the large wheel shown in the picture, which in turn revolves the propeller-gear and drives the boat along at about three or four miles an hour. The fisher- man constructed his “engine” out of various odd parts he was able to pick up locally, and is very proud of his invention, although he’ has not yet taken out a patent for it. —— *MUTOK-BUAL —BY WHIKLING THE BIG WHEBL VIGUKOUSLY THE OWNKR OF THE CRAFT ROTATES THE PROPELLER AND DRIVES THE BOAT ALONG AT A FAIR PACE. (Photo.

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ODDS AND ENDS. 103 The photograph reproduced below re- presents the lady station-“ master” at Whip- pingham, Isle of Wight. The lady who holds this unique position is the only official at the station, and acts as station- master, signalman, porter, booking clerk, and ticket collector. Some years ago, we believe, another lady held a similar position at Alverstone Station, on the island, but on her death a mere male was appointed, so the lady whose portrait is here given claims to hold a position which is quite unique —so far as the British Isles are con- cerned, at any rate THR PUBLIC LIRRARV AT KURUMAN, BRITISH BECHUANALAND, WHICH IS Froma\ BELIEVED TO BE THE SMALLEST IN EXISTENCE, [PAofo. Bridge.” The curious circular hole in the upper part of the bridge is said to have two objects—to lessen the strain upon the lower arch and to save expense in building. The bridge spans a small stream which comes down from the hills, and therefore rises and falls very rapidly, so that it is possible the builders of the structure had some idea that the circle would act as an outlet should the flood-water ever rise above the first arch. From a Photo. The Public Library is one of the many “blessings of civilization” which the coloniz- ing Britisher takes with him wherever he goes. From Kuruman, in British Bechuana- land, comes the little snap-shot next re- produced, which represents the “ Kuruman Public Library.” Concerning this palatial institution a correspondent writes: ‘I think our library building may fairly clair to be one of the smallest, if not ¢he smallest, in existence. In spite of its small size the library is well stocked with books and has a large number of subscribers.” Here is a photograph of a unique Irish bridge. It is situated near the village of Lisdoonvarna, in County Clare, and is g THE REMARKABLE “SPECTACLE BRIDGE” AT LISDOONVARNA, IKELANDs known to the natives as the “Spectacle From @ Photo,

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104 One of the many varieties of cacti that grow profusely on the deserts of the south- west United States, where hardly any- thing else will grow at all, is the oco- tillo, a photograph of which is here re- produced. This does not look like a hope- ful material for build- ing purposes, yet the natives of these in- hospitable regions, where, in a particu- lar degree, necessity begets invention, find it decidedly useful in that way. ‘The canes grow from twelve to fifteen feet high, and are stiff enough, and yet pliable enough, to weave together— much as hurdles are THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE OCOTILLO, THE REMARKABLE CACTUS WHICH, WHEN USED FORK BUILDING PURPOSES, PRODUCES HOUSES THAT “COME TO LIFE.” Krom a Photo. by C. C. Pierce. made. They are then heavily plastered with adobe mud, and when dry make thoroughly _ service- able, solid structures. The oddest point about the ocotillo houses is that when the building and the ground become thoroughly wet with the rains — which occur occasionally, though very seldom —the ocotillo canes, greedily drinking up the moisture, become green and begin to grow vigorously, and even attempt to send out their beautitul spikes of bright red blossom, so that the occupants of the hut find that their house has actually “come to life.” pe * Houses tat “Lome to Life™ Across Mexico ‘"Reoring te Gate? 2— * on HORSEBACK Snowinc Him FLORIDA +. AMong INSURGENTS 2 eee IN CRere) rN | , . a. 5 Tae ORDEAL ek of © Son rhe Sinalleat (/ MALEK Cann | : Hicn Seas Dbz Library | < My Apventures Some Fisninc 0 on Suwagrow @ MopERN EXPERIENCES FREE LANcE 4 Postal Luriasity ‘ ‘Tne GaspaRIN' MysTERY Lie Star Love oF Count Epacn, ae Be |.) EVENTFUL \ ENGAGEMENTS ~ Firrece| ——— THE MAY-CONTENTS OF ‘THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCK THE LOCALITY OF EACH AKTICLE AND NAKRATIVKE OF ADVENTURK IN THIy NUMBER.

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ie a a a Se TE a oh tall ak Digitized by Google

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- ““WE WERE IN FOR OUR FIRST STORM.” (SEE PAGE 117.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVII. JUNE, 1906. No. 98. ON THE HIGH SEAS: A Budget of Marine Romances. By H. L. Apa. The aiay: -atehome authority will sometimes tell you that the days of sea romance are over. there are still strange and almost incredible things happening day by day on the ocean. Nevertheless, This remarkable series—compiled with the assistance of Lloyd’s and the leading shipping companies—gives a selection of such occurrences—real life dramas of the ocean more absorbing than novelist ever conceived. > October 3rd, 1905, the American schooner Van Name and King left | Charleston, S.C., for New York, with a cargo of hard pine. She was in charge of Captain Maxwell, and carried a crew of seven men, made up of the mate, W. Chase; seamen Arthur, Grizell, Thomas, and Warner; a negro cook and a German engineer, names unknown. Nothing of an unusual nature happened for two days, during which the Vax Mame made fair headway. It was about the fall of the after- noon on the second day of the voyage, while the vessel was making steady progress under all sail, when she was struck by one of those appallingly sudden squalls which are the cause of so many maritime catastrophes. The captain, who was below at the time, tumbled frantically up on deck, shrieking orders to his men to take in sail. This, however, was by no means easy, for the schooner was heeling over almost on her beam ends, momentarily threatening to turn turtle. Nevertheless, the men did their best, their movements quickened by the reflection that their lives depended upon their efforts. Knives in hand they went at the canvas, clinging like limpets to the masts and rigging, sometimes held flat and helpless by the violence of the gale which roared and shrieked around them. To reef or furl the sails was out of the question ; all they could do, if the vessel was to be saved, was to cut them away, and this they did with all speed. Some of the sails were cut adrift altogether, and disappeared into the black void like so many sheets of paper. This eased the vessel somewhat, though she still laboured heavily, and in a few hours the remaining canvas was in Vol. xvii.—14, shreds. The seas boiled around the schooner and ever and anon broke over her, forcing the hatches and flooding the hold. The men worked incessantly at the pumps, but without much practical result, for the Van Name shipped water too speedily, and in quantities too large, to be greatly affected by the efforts of the seamen. An end was at length put to this almost fruitless labour by the pumps becoming choked and useless. The condition of the Van Name was now deplorable in the extreme. The storm con- tinued with, if anything, added fury, and she was being hurled along under bare poles, well- nigh full of water, with useless pumps and an exhausted crew. Realizing their helplessness, the men abandoned all efforts to handle their waterlogged craft, and, as a measure of self- preservation against the breaking seas, lashed themselves to various parts of the vessel—to the masts, rigging, bulwarks, and deck-house. In this manner they passed the hours of that terrible night. By the morning the stricken vessel had rolled over on to her beam ends, and some of the men were forced to change their positions. They took refuge on the weather- rail, lashing themselves as best they could. The gale continued throughout the day. huge seas continually deluging the schooner, which was now fast breaking up, although still kept afloat by her cargo of wood. The day passed—a day of utter misery—and night descended again. The storm was still increasing in fury, and it seemed certain to the castaways that their eyes would never again behold the light of day. To their mental and physical sufferings were now added those of hunger and thirst, which increased their tortures as the hours dragged -by) In spite of their lash-

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108 -THE WIDE WORLD ings they experienced the great- est difficulty in maintaining a hold upon the half-submerged vessel when the heavy seas broke over them. As the sickly grey of morning penetrated through the surround- ing gloom a more than usually formidable sea descended upon the sorely-buffeted schooner, completely burying her. For the moment it seemed that she had been finally engulfed, yet she came up again, a sorry wreck, but still floating. Suddenly there smote upon the ears of the half-drowned men a groan of acute agony, wrung from the breast of one of their number. Looking about them they observed a seaman named Arthur writhing in pain. “Oh, mates, my legs!” he shrieked. “I’m done ; they're broken !” Nothing could be done for the poor fellow, and he hung helpless in his lashings, whimpering with pain. An even worse calamity, however, had befallen another of that hapless crew— seaman Grizell had disappeared altogether, washed away, doubtless, by the great wave ! It soon became clear to the survivors that the Van Name could not last much longer ; “THEY TOOK REFUGE ON THE WEATHER-RAIL.” MAGAZINE. she was going to pieces fast. They therefore set to work with despairing energy to fashion a raft. ‘The small deck-house had already been much loosened by the seas, and it did not require a great deal of strength to detach it al- together. This done, they had to be very careful that the structure was not washed overboard. They then procured some planks from the cargo and loose timbers which were wash- ing about. With these and the deck-house, by dint of heroic efforts, they suc- ceeded in constructing some sort of a raft, revers- ing the deck-house so that its sides acted as bulwarks and afforded a certain amount of shelter. Having launched it—not without infinite difficulty — they fastened a line to it and secured it to the stern of the schooner, in order that it should not be carried away before they could board it. So heavy was the sea that the strain on the line when the raft was dropped into the water momentarily threatened to part it, so the work of em- barkation was proceeded with as speedily as possible. It was only with considerable difficulty that the crippled seaman Arthur was got on to the raft, but the task was finally accomplished. All the others were in a half-starved condition, and when they left the sinking vessel they did so carrying with them not a scrap of food nor a drop of water. So sudden had been the advent of the storm that access to either food, clothing, or water had early been cut off, and the men found themselves in the grip of disaster almost before they had time to think. When all the crew had got on the raft the line was severed, and the roaring seas carried them away with the speed of a mill-race. Very soon they lost sight of the Van Name, and never saw her again. It was evident that poor Arthur was sinking fast. Captain Maxwell took him under his care, pillowing his, head, uponchis own tortured

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. iog body, while the others kept as sharp a look-out for passing ships as possible. Their only hope lay in being picked up ere they perished of hunger and thirst, or were carried away by the seas. Night crept down again, and soon Captain Maxwell became conscious that he held in his arms only a lifeless body. Death had mercifully put a period to poor Arthur’s sufferings. “ He’s dead,” said Maxwell, simply, but in a voice that almost startled the others, so changed was its tone. ‘They all gazed stupidly for some moments at the prostrate form, and almost envied their departed shipmate. Inasmuch as the frail raft was already over- loaded, they were not slow to perform the last sad offices over the body of Arthur, which they reverently committed to the deep, Maxwell repeating from memory, in a terribly weak voice, some lines from the Burial Service. Another day and another night came and went, and still the storm continued pitilessly. The captain’s mind was weakening fast. “What day is it?” he asked, presently. The mate told him. “ And we sailed on the sixth,” commented the skipper, in a voice of painful wonder. “ Four days—four years—four ages!” His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper. Every time the raft rose on the summit of a wave the mate scanned the horizon with tense eagerness in quest of a sail, but ‘no sign of succour appeared. “Where are all the coasters?” he yelled, despairingly. ‘Where are all the steamers? Don’t they sail the seas any longer? Doesn’t anything sail the seas?” Sunday came, and with it an abatement of the storm, but not of the sufferings of the famished men. The wind subsided, the sea became calmer, and the sun peeped out. Scarcely had the day fully dawned than Chase staggered to his feet, with a finger pointing wildly across the ocean. “A sail! A sail!” he croaked, hoarsely. The others followed his gaze, and there, sure enough, they beheld in the distance the sails of a passing vessel, hull down. The men with one accord shouted down the wind and frantically waved their arms. But such a feeble cry as theirs was of no use. They soon became too weak to continue their efforts, and were per- force compelled to content themselves with watching for an indication that the vessel had seen them and was heading for them. Breath- lessly they stared in the direction of the sail, which certainly seemed to be advancing to their rescue. Nearer and nearer it came, and then— no, no, it could not be, they argued to them- selves ; it would be too cruel, too horrible ! Yet their starting eyes did not deceive them— the ship had altered her course and was leaving them ! It was a terrible blow. With one accord the castaways broke into choking, gasping sobs. Several fell prostrate on the raft, wildly clasping their hands in despair unspeakable ; Maxwell dropped back silently into a corner of the inverted deck-house, while Chase glared savagely at the receding sail till it disappeared from view. Suddenly, with a new light in his sunken eyes, the mate turned to one of the seamen. “ Water !” he said. ‘Go below and fetch some water !” The seaman pleaded that he could not move, humouring the officer in his delusion. There- upon the mate repeated his demand. “If you won’t go,” he said at last, “I'll go myself !” The others regarded him with fascinated eyes, making weak but futile attempts to intercept him. Shaking them off, however, he staggered to his feet and stepped over the side into the sea. The last his mates saw of their poor demented friend was a strangely peaceful face sinking behind a thin veil of creamy foam ! Sunday closed, another night descended, and yet another dawn broke for these hapless men, now suffering agonies from thirst, hunger, and exposure. By this time a great change had come over Captain Maxwell, and it was only too apparent that his mind was quite gone. He became very violent, protesting in a loud voice against being “kept waiting like this.” Then he proceeded to inform those about him that his father had promised faithfully to come along with a boat, and that it was quite time he put in an appearance. Next he leaped suddenly to his feet, being temporarily endowed with an access of strength, and directed his gaze across the water. “ Here he comes!” he exclaimed, and pointed away out to sea. He then waved his hand and brought it to the salute, while his eyes followed an imaginary boat as it advanced towards the raft. “Gome along, sir!” cried he; “what has detained you so long? I’ve been expecting you for some time. Heave alongside! ‘That’s it— all right !” With the concluding words, as though enter- ing a boat at the side, Maxwell stepped off the raft into the sea. Some of the other poor wretches made a feeble attempt to intercept him, but they were too late, and Maxwell sank out of sight as the mate had done. This self-destruction of) |the two officers

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110 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “HE SPRANG OVERROARD, DECLARING THAT HE WAS GOING TO SWIM ASHORE. ™ and Warner, were fast sinking, and lay prone on the raft all through the following night. When morning came they were sighted by an American schooner making for Bos- ton, which hove along- side, and found the two men in an_ unconscious condition. So weak were they that they had to be taken off the raft with the aid of slings. For two days they were unable to move, but at last, by dint of unremitting attention, they were brought back from the very jaws of death. Thomas and Warner were landed at Boston, and the narrative of this terrible ocean tragedy was brought to England, va Queenstown, by the White Star liner Baltic, and further confirmed in despatches from Boston, where the two survivors told their grim story. It was the night of January 2nd, 1886, and everything on board the American ship Frank N. Thayer was to all appear- operated with fatal effect on the mind of the ances secure and in order. It was a calm, star- engineer, and presently he too sprang over- light evening, and the gently-drifting vessel was board, declaring that he was going to swim wrapped in a stillness which probably many on ashore. Gradually the p= = \ RMR ER BGRC Ma. . SL raft was being ee " ‘ ge = lightened. Soon x ‘ ee % after the engineer 2 faked 5 PT Us : ; had flung himself gin tr Bes rhs op Oa Babee away the spirit a3 ; ‘ of the poor cook took flight. Ten- derly, painfully, laboriously, the two remaining men bore __ his body to the edge | __ of the raft and Te < lowered it into = the heaving sea. ‘ The two sur- Pi THE R.M.S, ‘ BALTIC,” WHICH BROUGHT THE GRIM STORY OF THE “Vv, vivors, Thomas From a Photo. by Priestley & Sons, Re: ae Nats a NS | , Bo ‘ae saat: Pokee 4 ME AND KING" TO ENGLAND.

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i 3 “s WARNER AND THOMAS, THE SURVIVORS OP THE CREW OF THE ““VAN NAME AND KING," IN THE TATTERED OILSKINS THEY WORE From a) WHEN RESCUED. [Photo. board afterwards had cause to re- member, for it immediately preceded a period of horror, bloodshed, and agonizing suspense. The Zhayer was in charge of Cap- tain Robert K. Clarke, and was a fine vessel of sixteen hundred tons burden, bound from Manila to New York, with a cargo of hemp. The captain had his wife and child on board with him. The ship, at the time my story opens, was about seven . hundred miles south-east of St. Helena. Two hours previously Cap- tain Clarke had retired to his state- room, leaving the Zhayer in charge of the first and second officers. Suddenly the sleeping skipper was awakened by an alarming noise— something like a shrill scream. Startled, he sat up in bed and listened. Possibly, he thought, it might have been nothing more serious than an incident in a vivid dream. He was all the more in- clined to believe that this was the explanation by the profound silence which fol- lowed the supposed cry. He was on the point of subsiding on his bed again when the distinct HIGH SEAS. rr and unmistakable sound of: fierce voices in violent altercation smote upon his ear, accom- panied by the shuffling of feet upon the deck above and a deal of rushing hither and thither. Clearly something was wrong. The state-room led into the captain’s cabin, and the door of the latter looked out upon the companion-way, which gave access to the deck. Clarke, now convinced that something of an unusual character was. happening above, made his way to the cabin door and looked out. To his amazement, he observed the second mate staggering down the ladder, calling upon him by name. He was bleeding profusely, and had no sooner arrived at the foot of the ladder than he fell prostrate upon the threshold of the captain’s cabin and immediately expired. Captain Clarke, in a perfectly bewildered condition, then did a rash thing. Clad only in his night-clothes, he proceeded to mount the companion-way. Above, all was dark. Arrived at the top step, he received a violent stab on the head from an unseen assailant. He contrived, however, to grab the individual, whom he dis- covered to be one of two Indian coolies whom he had shipped at Manila. Immediately the pair came to grips, and a desperate struggle

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112 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ensued in the darkness. Clarke managed to deal the coolie a staggering Llow between the eyes with his fist, which temporarily blinded him; but the struggle was continued down the companion-way, the coolie hacking viciously at the captain with his knife, while the skipper used his fists. Once Clarke slipped, but regained his footing immediately, though he received a severe cut in the side. By this time blood was flowing freely down the steps, and presently Captain Clarke slipped again, pitching head foremost into the cabin. Happily the coolie must have regarded this accident as a sign of death, for he failed to follow up the advantage which the fall undoubtedly presented to him. Captain Clarke picked himself up with diffi- culty, faint and weak from loss of blood. “Take this,” exclaimed his agitated wife, and thrust a revolver into his hand. He staggered to the door of the cabin again, and, locking out, perceived that the coolie had gone. Crawling cautiously to the top of the stairs, it appeared to him that the deck was deserted. He knew that aman named Maloney was at the wheel, so he called softly to him and told him to shut the outside door of the companion-way. Maloney, who seemed to be mad with terror, replied that he could not, as there was somebody there. The situation that now presented itself to Captain Clarke was one of a baffling character. That mutiny had broken out was only too pain- fully obvious, but to what extent it had spread he was quite unable to decide. He therefore proceeded to take what steps he could for the safety of his wife and child. He locked the door of the outer cabin, and also that of the inner apartments. When he had accomplished this he heard somebody stagger down the com- panion-way and fall against the door of the outer cabin. Thinking it might be his enemy the coolie, and that he could possibly yet a shot at him, Clarke proceeded to open the door of the outer cabin, revolver in hand. Instead of the coolie, however, he beheld a seaman named Hendricsen, who begged to be taken inside. As he appeared incapable of furnishing any information of what was happening, and as the captain thought he might possibly be one of the mutineers, he closed and locked the door upon him and returned to the inner cabin, where he collapsed upon a mat. Mrs. Clarke, who all through this terrible business never lost her presence of mind, proceeded to stanch the flow of blood and dress her husband’s wounds. This done, Captain Clarke sat in such a position, with his revolver in his hand, that he could command all the doors and windows. While Mrs. Clarke was still engaged in dressing his wounds, one of the cabin win- dows was smashed from without, and a coolie thrust his leg through the opening. Thereupon the captain fired two shots in rapid succession, and the coolies, who evidently supposed him to be dead, fled amidst a shower of terrifying oaths. It was clear that their intention was to obtain possession of the captain’s firearms, so that they might complete their dreadful work. In this, however, they were disappointed. It may be well to explain at this stage how this extraordinary state of affairs had come about. It seems scarcely credible, but the whole mutiny had been accomplished by only two men, the coglies shipped at Manila. No more daring plot was ever conceived, or more swiftly and effectively put into operation. The two coolies were in different watches, and they planned to begin their mutiny at the moment when the watch was being changed—the only time when they could co-operate. ‘The first hint of this made itself apparent when one of the coolies was noticed to be absent from the fore- castle when, in the ordinary course of things, he should have been there. At the moment of the outbreak the first and second mates were sitting on the after hatch. The two mutineers came along, one complaining of being ill. Before the mates had time for thought the coolies were upon them, slashing at them with knives in both hands. The first mate received a fatal wound, and was conveyed by some of the watch, including a seaman named Robert Sonn- berg, to the forecastle, where he died three hours later. ‘Ihe second mate, as I have already described, staggered down below and fell dead at the door of the captain’s cabin. Sonnberg, with eight others, all armed with capstan bars, then proceeded aft again to investigate the affair, and soon came in contact with the coolies, who struck out frantically with their knives, wounding four seamen. Then panic seemed to seize upon all the others, and they fled incontinently to the forecastle, where the mate lay dying. Sonnberg, however, was unable to join his companions, so he took refuge in the mizzen rigging, where he lay in hiding on the crossjack-yard. Meanwhile the mutineers ran yelling and stabbing about the deck, driving the crew helter-skelter into the forecastle, and at the same time shouting that the captain and mates were dead and that the vessel was in their charge. The events which now ensued were swift and terrible. Making their way to the carpenter’s shop, where Booth, the carpenter, was in hiding, the two mutineers dragged him out, murdered him, and cast his body overboard. They then ransacked the shop, obtaining possession of tools and, materials. . Nextothey proceeded to

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 113 the forecastle, which they battened up, and so imprisoned twelve men, including the dying mate and four seamen dangerouslyswounded. This task finished they hastened aft, dragged the shrieking Maloney from the wheel, and stabbed him to.death. All this was done within the sight of Sonnberg, crduching aloft, and he was rendered almost frantic by the horror of it. He could no longer remain on the yard, and felt that he must make an effort to join his fellows in the forecastle. He, therefore, climbed along the stays, and did actually reach the fore- castle—the coolies had disappeared into the carpenter’s shop again—only to find it battened up, so he made his way aloft again as quickly as he could. Presently the mutineers reappeared from below, dragging after them a seaman named “THE MUTINEERS RAN VELLING AND STABBING ABOUT THE DECK, DRIVING THE CREW Vol. avid. 18, HELTER-SKRLTER," Antonio Serrian, whom they stabbed at the main hatch and flung overboard. Returning again to the carpenter’s shop, they procured two axes, which they sharpened. Thus armed, one took up a position near the cabin aft, while the other kept watch over the forecastle. This marked the first stage in this truly awful business. It was now four o’clock on Sunday morning, and within that brief space of time these two miscreants had attained complete control of the vessel. Being assailed with the pangs of hunger, they compelled the Chinese cook, Ah Say, whom they found hiding in the coal-locker, to cook some food for them, and they supped plentifully off a couple of fowls, with rice and coffee. With the dawning of day they discovered Sonnberg’s hiding-place and tried to induce him to come down, promising that if he did so no violence would be offered him, but Sonnberg wisely preferred to remain where he was. Unfortunately he had left his knife below, or he would have been enabled to cut off some blocks and aim them at the mutineers. As it was he succeeded in de- taching one block, which he fastened to a gasket, and so made’a serviceable weapon to use in self-defence. The next task which the mutineers desired to accom- plish was to obtain access to the captain’s cabin, and so get Possession of the firearms, without which they would be unable to complete their scheme. Their intention, doubtless, was to murder every- body on board, and when found pose as innocents who had miraculously escaped from the perils of a general mutiny. They began their attack upon the captain’s cabin early on Sunday morning, but for several hours were kept at bay by the captain’s revolver, one of them being wounded in the foot. The miscreants then altered their manner of attack. Lash- ing knives on the end of sticks, they thrust them through the windows, trying to wound those inside. Even this failed, how- ever, and they gave up further attempts for ‘that’ day, waiting

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1r4 THE WIDE WORLD for darkness before resuming the attack. During the remaining hours of daylight, therefore, a terrible stillness reigned over the vessel. About eight o'clock in the evening Sonnberg, lying in the maintop, felt an ominous trembling in the rigging, and, casting his eyes below, per- ceived the fiendish visage of one of the coolies not more than a foot away, with glistening eyes fixed on his face and knife upraised to strike! The startled seaman immediately struck out with his weapon and retreated out of arm’s reach, where- upon the coolie gave up any further attempt to get at him and returned below. Sonnberg, shaken by his narrow escape, mounted to the royal yard, where for safety he remained. Throughout the night the mutineers sustained the siege of the cabin aft, Captain Clarke keep- ing up a brisk fire the whole time. He was unable to get a fair aim, but whenever he heard them outside he fired through the wall of the cabin. At length it became apparent to the coolies that their chance of getting into the cabin was very remote, and they partly abandoned their efforts. From this moment the tide began to turn against them, and as swiftly as the mutiny had been initiated, so the weird and dramatic ending of it occurred. Sonnberg, from his lofty retreat, judged, from the movements of the mutineers, that they contemplated setting the vessel on fire! He also perceived another incident, which sent a ray of hope through his mind. ‘The Chinese cook, Ah Say, seizing an opportunity when the mutineers were not observing him, took up an axe, and, hastening to one of the forecastle windows, passed it through to the men inside, so that they might cut their way out. The mutineers having gone below, Sonnberg descended, and, taking possession of an axe inadvertently left behind by one of the coolies, made his way to the forecastle door and endeavoured to cut away the rope lashing. He was observed and chased, however, but managed to reach a place of safety in the main rigging, whence he hurled down a piece of iron at his pursuers, unfortu- nately missing them. On the Monday morning Captain Clarke was feeling very much better and determined to assume the offensive. Making his way to the bath-room Clarke found the seaman Hendricsen hiding, and questioned him. Feeling satisfied by the man’s answers that he was not one of the mutineers, the skipper armed him with a revolver, and the two proceeded to make a reconnaissance. They discovered that the mutineers were on deck, armed with a harpoon and sticks with knives on the ends, which they were ready to hurl at anyone who appeared at MAGAZINE. the skylights. Clarke and Hendricsen then began a lively fire with their revolvers, succeed- ing at length in wounding one of the coolies in the breast. ‘I'he sounds of heavy blows on the forecastle door told that the imprisoned men there were cutting their way -out, and gave encouragement to the others. - Suddenly the wounded coolie flung up his arms and dashed towards the forecastle just as the door of the latter gave way and the men inside rushed out. ‘The coolie turned and, with the aid of his companion, flung a boom into the sea, leaping in after it. The other man fled below, pursued by the released seamen. Sonn- berg, descending to the deck, made his way aft, and shouted to the captain to cut his way out. This Clarke did, and presently all the survivors were free. But the fiend below had succeeded in accomplishing his design. Columns_ of smoke arose through the hatches, proclaiming the dreadful fact that the ship was on fire. The coolie had set light to the cargo of hemp in several places ! One of the men from the forecastle had armed himself with a revolver, and in the dark- ness below managed to wound the mutineer in the shoulder. ‘The latter, scorched and half choked by the advancing fire, emerged from his hiding-place, dashed on to the deck, and with a horrible yell flung himself into the sea. Neither of the miscreants was ever seen again. Heroic attempts were made to extinguish the fire, but all efforts proved unavailing. It soon became apparent that the vessel would have to be abandoned. Speedily provisions were got out, and at eight o'clock in the morning the boats were lowered from the davits. One promptly capsized, fortunately before anyone had entered it or any provisions had been placed therein. ‘The other boat was provisioned for sixteen days and successfully launched. First the wounded were carefully stowed in it, then the captain’s wife and child and the crew took their places, and finally Captain Clarke himself descended. All through Monday night they kept close to the fiercely-burning vessel, thinking that the glare might attract a passing craft and so bring about their deliverance. No vessel came to their aid, however, and by Tuesday morning the Zhaver was burnt almost to the water’s edge. They had been unable to take any sails on board, as all the canvas had been burnt, so they now lashed a couple of oars together and, using a blanket for a sail, made for St. Helena. Here, after enduring much privation, they arrived at midnight on Sunday, January roth, afterwards proceeding to the office of Mr. J. A. MacKnight, the American Consul at Jamestown, pwhere) thé) full story of their

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ON suffering was told, and how six lives and a fine ship were lost through the unaccountable frenzy of two men. We have now to consider a story of a dif- ferent calibre, the account of what is surely one of the most unique and dar- ing voyages on record—nothing less than a voyage across the Atlantic Ocean inan egg! A ridiculously impossible feat, the reader will say; yet such a voyage has been accomplished, and that as lately as 1904, albeit it should be ex- plained that the “egg” referred to was made of steel plates, and was some eigh- teen feet long. Nevertheless, as the pictures conclusively prove, Captain Brude’s invention is an egg first and a lifeboat afterwards. Here is the inventor’s modest account of the perilous trip he made to test the capabilities of his strange craft—a trip which included such novel experiences for Captain Brude as having his boat mistaken for some extraordinary sea mon- ster and reading the account of his own death in a Boston newspaper. I have had upwards of ten years’ practical experience of navigation, and for a considerable period my mind was exercised as to the import- ance of there being some more effective and trustworthy means of preserving life at sea in case of an emergency than is to be found with the best equipped of lifeboats. Persons cast upon the waters in open boats find them- selves face to face with a variety of perils, as has been only too frequently exemplified in the THE HIGH SEAS. 115 annals of ocean catastrophes. It was with the pur- pose of obviat- ing these dan- gers that I set to work to con- struct a craft that might be carried by any well- found vessel in place of the or- dinary small boat, and that might serve as a haven of re- fuge and security for passengers and crew when- ever and wher- ever it was deemed expedi- ent, or rendered absolutely neces- sary, to desert a vessel at short notice. The re- sult of my labours is the Ured, for which I claim all the advantages I have enume- rated. That she possesses them I have personally proved—but thereby hangs the story I am asked to tell. First, then, permit me briefly to de- scribe the construction of my crafi, and I will then relate how valiantly she contended with the stormy waters from Norway to America, across the North Sea and the Atlantic. The Ured is egg-shaped, and built entirely of steel plates. Although it is, of course, pos- sible to construct such a boat to any dimensions, the one in which I made my voyage to America was eighteen feet long, eight feet wide, and eight deep. ‘This is the size I most favour for passenger vessels; it is capable of accom- modating forty persons. In order to prevent rolling and drifting the boat is fitted with a sliding keel and also a broad fender, which tends to strengthen her. yOn the top, or deck, there) \is:a'railing running all round, with WE FLUNG HIMSELF INTO THE SEA.”

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116 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. a look-out tower, containing four glazed port- holes, through which a full, all-round view to the horizon may be obtained. There is a double bottom to the craft, which is divided into four water-tight compartments, where provisions, water, or any other necessities may be stored, and to which access is gained by a number of man-holes. In the middle of the vessel is the box from which the sliding keel is manipulated, the latter so arranged that it may be drawn up. Access to the boat is gained by means of a hatchway, or large man- hole, at each end of the vessel, which is closed from the inside and be- comes water-tight. The vessel can also be made air-tight. This life-saving boat can be fixed on vessels in the usual manner, and, when required, can be lowered from the davits, as in the case of an ordinary boat. Sup- posing there should not be time for this, how- ever, all that it is neces- sary to do is to unhook or cut the tackles, enter the boat as quickly as possible, shut all the openings, and wait for the vessel to sink. At the time I gave orders for the boat to be built at my native place of Aalesund the idea of crossing to America in her had al- ready formed itself in my mind, and in order to thoroughly test the seaworthiness and sail- ing capacity of the craft I did not think I could do better than take her across the Atlantic, with its changeable sea and weather conditions. When it became known that I had determined upon this voyage, I received several applications from seamen wishing to accompany me, and from these candidates I selected Iver Thorsen, Lars Madsen, and Johan Johannesen. I determined to start late in the year, so that the worst weather should he encountered. As I was as yet quite in the dark as to the sailing capacity of the boat I took the precaution of provisioning her for the space of six months, in order to allow a safe margin for the voyage. From a) MODEL OF THR “URAD,” WITH THY BGG" OPEN TO SHOW THE INTERNAL FITTINGS. The provisions consisted of tinned goods, salt meat, and ship biscuits, which were stowed away in the lockers round the inside of the boat. We carried petroleum for lighting purposes, and a couple of Beatrice stoves for the cooking. , We had a water supply of five hundred gallons. On July 25th, 1904, the Ured was launched, and the few subsequent days were devoted to completing her equipment. ‘hen, having made several very successful trial trips, I decided to set out on my Atlantic voyage. At g am. on the morning of August 7th we left Aalesund to the ringing cheers of a large crowd of well-wishers, and in the afternoon we made Rund Lighthouse and set our course for Shetland. A slack nor- therly wind was blow- ing, and we made only two and a half knots, but the next day, the breeze freshening some- what, our speed was in- creased to six knots. Across the North Sea our rate of progress fluctuated between these two figures. At midnight on August gth we sighted Lambarnes Lighthouse, and at ten o'clock the following morning anchored at Baltasound Harbour. So far the voyage had been smooth enough, and I was more than pleased with the beha- viour of the Ured. In view of the very strong head-wind which was blowing, however, and the generally stormy weather prevailing, I determined to stay a few days at Baltasound, and it was not until the afternoon of Friday, the roth, that we resumed our voyage. A light northerly wind was blowing as we set sail and left the har- bour, and we shaped our course for St. John’s, Newfoundland. We were all in the best of good spirits at the way in which we had crossed the North Sea, and, although we had the terrible Atlantic with its autumn gales before us, we felt confident that, judging by the character of our voyage so far, the Ured was quite capable of managing the journey. .. We. passed the time [Photo.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 117 pleasantly — smoking, reading, chatting, and speculating on the voyage before us. The boat behaved admirably. The smoothness of our progress may be judged by the fact that swing- ing trays were not needed on the table and that a glass full of water would stand without spilling or falling. Thus day succeeded day with the utmost smoothness, and we experienced a sense of novel security, of strangely complacent isola- tion. Peering from our watch-tower we enjoyed a curious view of the ocean as it stretched in its immensity on all hands. Small, indeed, we felt in our tiny shell on that vast expanse of tumbling water ! On September 2nd the wind began to freshen, and at two in the afternoon it was blowing a terrific gale, which soon increased to a hurricane, lashing the sea into fury. We realized that we were in for our first storm, and with- out delay proceeded to adopt precaution- ary measures. We took in sail and let go a sea-anchor to prevent our being carried too far out of our course. So great was the strain, how- ever, that the wire cable broke and we lost our anchor, a similar fate befalling a second. Although we were now drifting broadside to the waves, it was wonderful how comparatively smooth were our movements, not a single sea breaking over us, the boat riding the swell like a gull. We were into the rough weather now with a vengeance. During the succeeding days gale followed upon gale, chiefly from the west. On the 5th so fierce was the storm that in the after- noon we first reefed and then lowered the storm-sail altogether, scudding along under bare poles. The wind blew with hurricane force and the seas were terrific. On Tuesday, the 6th, the wind lulled again, and we set the main- sail, but the following day at noon it became rough again. It continued the whole day long, and we kept the Ured to the wind with the storm-sail, till at nine o’clock in the evening we were struck by a squall which threatened to destroy us. With a crash the mast broke, carry- ing the sail overboard. So fearful was the From a) THE “ URAD'S” CREW. storm, however, that it was quite out of the question to attempt to save the gear. The night was inky black, and looking through our spy- holes in the watch-tower was like gazing at a piece of black paper. There was simply nothing to be discerned, and all that we could hear was the howling and shrieking of the tempest. - Although we could see nothing, we felt that we were being carried upwards to lofty heights and then hurled into abysmal depths, but we pinned our faith to the little Ured, and were not mistaken. When daylight came we discovered that the rigging still held, and, although the storm continued, by watch- ing the squall we Managed to get out- side and save our gear. With feverish haste we lashed the sails and _ cordaye secuyely to the rails and retired into our egg, where we waited patiently until the storm should sub- side. We had to wait four days, during which time we drifted no fewer than three hundred miles in a direction diametric- ally opposite to that in which we wished to travel. Person- ally, however, we had nothing to com- plain about, for we had everything that we required in the boat, although we were being carried away from our destination. The weather lulled after the fourth day, and we were able to rig the mast again and con- tinue our voyage. Nothing further worth recording occurred until the 14th of October, when we again experienced terrible weather, with heavy seas. At oneo’clock in the morning the sail was torn frem the mast in a heavy squall. The weather was too bad to admit of anyone going out to save it, and when daylight came we had the mortification of finding that the sail had gone, the sheet having been broken in the night. The storm continued to rage violently till the 17th, and we again drifted a considerable distance to the east. However, it was no use repining; we were bound for America, and.,to \America.)we meant to go. When the wind abated, therefore, we again (hoto.

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118 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. hoisted sail and made progress, though but slowly. However, we were going forward, and that lightened our hearts. On the 27th we hailed the east-bound British ss. Concordia—the crew of which contemplated our egy with great astonishment—and asked her to report us. On November 15th, at nine in the morning, we sighted land and a lighthouse on our lee quarter, with breakers ahead. Needless to say, this discovery gave us great joy. A stiff wind was blowing from the north and thick snow was falling. We calcu- lated that the light- house was that of Cape Spear, outside St. John’s, Newfoundland, and subsequently found this to be the case. The wind was not suf- ficient to take us to St. John’s, so we made for Petty Harbour, where we anchored at 4 p.m. On the 17th a tug took us into St. John’s, where we moored along- side the quay. ‘This completed the first stage of our Atlantic jour- ney, which, from Shet- land, had occupied nearly ninety days. The good folk of St. John’s scarcely seemed able to make enough of us, and our stay there was most enjoyable. Our departure—on November 26th —was made the occasion of a public demonstration, the whole town turning out and the streets be- ing decorated with flags and bunting. The quay was crowded with people, and in the har- bour were three tugs, also packed with passen- gers, who were intent on seeing us off. We were towed out of the harbour to the ringing cheers of the crowd, and were followed for some distance by the tugs, which at length had to return, after we had exchanged enthusiastic farewells. By two o’clock in the afternoon we were abreast of Cape Spear, and thence enjoyed five days of very fine weather, during which we had the satisfaction of making good progress towards our THE “URZD” ON HER ARRIVAL AT ST. JOHN'S, NEWFOUNDLAND, From a Photo, goal. On December 4th we sighted the steamers Washington, of Yarmouth, and Pérladelphia, both making eastwards. We had calm weather again until the 6th, when we encountered another severe storm. For days the weather alternated between rough and smooth. It was bitterly cold, and as Christmas approached we found ourselves off the coast of Nova Scotia. On Christmas Day we spoke an American schooner, the crew of which at first regarded our egg as some strange creature of the deep. We were pleasantly conscious now of our gradual approach to the shore, and were looking forward to the time j when we should be able / to report ourselves on American soil. On the 3rd of January, how- ever, we were struck by a truly terrible squall, which surpassed in fury anything we had yet encountered. At St. John’s we had sutbsti- tuted for our injured wooden mast one of iron, which we had brought with us from Aalesund, and this was now bent to such an extent by the storm that we could not sail, so we took it down and !ay drifting. In conse- quence of this rough handling we were un- able to round Cape Cod as We intended, but had to make for the nearest port as quickly as pos- sible. Next day, when the wind lulled, we set sail and advanced as best we could with the bent mast, making only slow progress. On the sth we sighted and hailed the Hamburg steamer Cesar, with a cargo of fruit, making for Boston, and asked her to tow us in. This she consented to do if we were willing to go at her speed, which was about eighteen miles an hour. We thought this over and, although the weather was calm again, determined not to risk it, but contented ourselves with asking her to send-us a tug. This she promised to” do,. but failed, being prevented bya terrific gale which*soon after set

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 119 in, making it impossible for a tug to get out. This was the worst storm we encountered, and we are not likely to readily forget it. The sea was one mass of raging foam, and we had a terrible time in our little egg, which was whirled about in an ex- traordinary manner, the luckless occupants being tossed hither and thither, pell-mell, and shaken up like peas in a basket. In- deed, so fearful was the outlook that despair seized upon us, and we did not expect to come out of the business alive. The Cesar’s officers en- deavoured to obtain a tug for us, but not a single vessel would put out. One man went round to all the tug-owners and offered a thousand dollars to anybody who would try it, but no one dared. So confident was everybody on shore that no boat could live in such a sea that the Boston Glode published next morning a most harrowing story of our loss, embellished with drawings. I am not altogether inclined to blame the editor, who not unnaturally supposed that it was an impossi- bility for us to have survived such an ordeal. However, we did ; and when in the early morn- ing the wind began to wear round more easterly, we contrived to set sail and make for the shore. At eleven o’clock we sighted Highland Light- house, and steered along the shore till four in the afternoon, when we found ourselves abreast of Respont. As far as Provincetown we en- countered a head wind, when we made a flare for a pilot, but no one came out. We accord- ingly stood off westwards, calculating that we might go into Plymouth the next morning. The following morning at seven o’clock we sighted land about a mile distant, but in com sequence of a heavy snowstorm which was raging we could not get into port. We then made for East Point, and sighted the Egg Rock Light- house at nine in the evening. Two hours later we were abreast of it. Madsen and I were on the look-out, and Thorsen was at the helm, when suddenly we espied breakers ahead. Hastily we putled up the sliding keel; there was a grating noise, and the Ured was ashore, high and dry! “CPHE LUCKLESS OCCUPANTS BEING SHAKEN UP LIKE PEAS IN A BASKET." The time was midnight, and the date January 7th, 1905. I immediately jumped ashore, made my way to the nearest telephone-station, and rang up the Gloucester Tug Boat Company, asking for assistance. They, however, could do nothing on account of the stormy nature of the night, so, the shore being rough and rocky, we set to work to moor the boat securely and shore it up with planks, so that it should not get injured. Then we left her and went to an hotel for the night. Sleeping in a stationary bed was quite a novelty after five months in our little floating egg. The next morning, with plenty of willing assistance, we succeeded in getting the Ured into port at Gloucester, where we thoroughly examined her, and found that the only injuries she had received were a few dents in the bottom and a small leakage in one of the tanks, which was soon put right. Having stayed a few days at Gloucester and fitted the boat with a new mast and rigging, we set sail again on the 16th for Boston, which we reached at four o’clock the same day, and moored in the harbour. Here the boat was lifted out of the water with a crane and placed in a shed, where she was subjected to a thorough overhauling. The crew were paid off and entered other employment there, while I returned to Norway to see about my letters patent and other matters connected with the Ured, the story of whose first ad- venturous voyage I have here set down. (To be continued.)

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The Baron’s Wooing. By SERGIUs VOLKHOVSKY, OF ST. PETERSBURG. One of the queerest love-stories on record. How the bold Baron tried to abduct by force the beautiful maiden who had repeatedly refused him, how the scheme miscarried, and how the girl’s enraged father~ punished the nobleman and his hapless assistants. The position in which the Baron found himself when old Ivan had finished with him is probably without a parallel in fact or fiction. From a) BARON CYRIL LIUPIANOFF. (Photo. ITTLE by little there have filtered to St. Petersburg from the remote pro- } vince of Kazan the complete details 4| of one of the most extraordinary — dramas which even Russia—‘ the land of the unexpected ”—has ever yielded. Four years ago Baron Liupianoff, a wealthy Russian nobleman and landowner, endeavoured to abduct a girl named Olga Ostrelsky, the daughter of Ivan Ostrelsky, a rich fur merchant, in order to make her his wife. Instead of abducting the object of his ardent affections, however, the Baron himself was kidnapped by the girl’s father and incarcerated in the merchant's cellar for three years and a half by way of punishment for the projected outrage! Baron Liupianoff has recently been liberated from his confinement, and, much against his own will, has been compelled to make the story of his remarkable imprisonment public in order to enforce his own rights of property. The records of this astonishing romance are chronicled in the official reports of the district court of Kasai.oazh, as well as in the higher court of the city of Kazan, the capital of the province of the same name. The Russian news- papers have devoted many columns to reports of the case and discussions thereon, for it has been rightly held that it illustrates most graphically the medieval conditions of life and thought which still prevail in the European provinces of the Russian Empire. Baron. Cyril Liupianoff at the time of his adventure was thirty years of age, and resided in his own ancestral castle on estates which extended from the northern districts of the province of Kazan into the adjoining province OLGA OSTRELSKY, THE FUR MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER, WHOM BARON LIUPIANOFF ATTEMPTED TO ABDUCT. From a Photo. by, Otta Becker & Maas, Berlin.

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From a) of Vyatka. His pos- sessions coveredan area of many thou- sands of acres, and he.was the most powerful magnate for miles around. As a young man he had gone to St. Petersburg to enjoy life, and in the course of a semi- decade of dissipa- tion had succeeded in squandering a considerable por- tion of the family fortune. Return- ing to his estates, situated in one of the remote parts of darkest Russia, he turned over a new leaf and became known far and wide as a confirmed woman-hater. The mothers of all the marriage- able daughters for scores of miles around, who had at first marked the Baron as a suit- able matrimonial prize, gradually abandoned their efforts to capture Vol. xvii.—16. THE BARON’S WOOING. Sees cnenceatae ea nin caaeeandn eee “ONE FATEFUL DAY BARON LIUPIANOFF SET EYES ON OLGA OSTRELSKY.” 121 [Photo. him, and left him to enjoy life in the solitude of his bachelor establish- ment. His aver- sion to the fair sex went so far that he dismissed all the female servants in his household, and limited his staff of domestics and re- tainers to men. His pleasures consisted principally of shooting and hunt- ing in the primeval forests abounding upon his estates. He was tall, stal- wart, and hand- some, but his ec- centric habits and hisdislike tofemale society caused him to be regarded as a man to be avoided, while the stories which were told of his quarrelsome and violent nature gave him a most unfavourable repu- tation throughout the country-side. One fateful day Baron Liupianoff set eyes on Olga

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122 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Ostrelsky, who at that time had just passed her sixteenth birthday and was a girl of striking beauty. She was tall and dark, with flashing black eyes and a mass of jet-black hair. Baron Liupianoff—woman-hater as he had been for so long—was fascinated by her charms at once, and, recalling his former conquests in the Russian capital, began to court the young beauty assiduously, in the hope of persuading her to become his wife. He had come into contact with the girl through business trans- actions with her father, who still carried on his trade as a dealer in furs. Ivan Ostrelsky’s business establishment was situated in the city of Kazan, but the merchant himself resided in the vicinity of Kasanbazh, some thirty miles from the capital of the portunities of being alone with his daughter. Miss Ostrelsky, however, did not share her father’s partiality for the aristocrat, who made no progress whatever with his suit. On the contrary, he became daily more and more un- desirable in the eyes of the beautiful heiress. Olga Qstrelsky, it must be remembered, had been brought up in great seclusion in her country home, and was absolutely unacquainted with the ways of ladies of high society in the Russian capital. Baron Liupianoff, however, whose experience of women had hitherto been confined to the society belles of St. Peters- burg, wooed the country girl in the same dashing style by which he had effected the conquest of so many feminine hearts. Daily Miss Ostrelsky grew to dislike province. He was the proud possessor of a stable of tho- roughbred Russian _ horses, which enabled him to speed along the deserted roads be- tween his residence and Kazan within three or four hours in the summer by means of the . light carriages peculiar to Russia, and in the winter by means of sledges. His wife had died soon after his daughter’s birth, and Olga Ostrelsky was committed to the care of an English governess, Miss King. Olga Ostrelsky had chanced to be present in her father’s store when Baron Liupianoff the unfortunate Liupianoff, and her English governess, Miss King, encouraged her in her objections. At the expira- tion of the first fortnight of their acquaintance, therefore, when the impulsive Baron made a formal offer of mar. riage, it was immediately and emphatically rejected by the young lady. Baron Liupianoff, however, was not rebuffed. He con- soled himself with the belief that he had merely to deal with the whims of a capricious young girl who would pre- sently change her mind. He —S came into the city to purchase his winter furs. The Baron there and then requested the merchant to present him to his daughter, and the eccentric nobleman took good care to continue the acquaintance thus casually begun. Henceforth he carried on his business transactions with the merchant, not in the store in the city of Kazan, but at Ostre!sky’s private residence on the out- skirts of Kasanbazh, in order that he might utilize the opportunity of seeing Miss Ostrelsky. His visits became more and more frequent—at first under the pretext of business, and sub- sequently for the avowed purpose of paying his attentions to the merchant’s daughter. Ivan Ostrelsky, a man of plebeian Girth, who had accumulated his great riches by his own industry and commercial efficiency, was considerably flattered by the attentions which the great noble- man paid to his daughter, and warmly favoured Baron Liupianoff's suit. He encouraged the Baron to visit his house, frequently invited him to dinner, and gave him numerous op- IVAN OSTRELSKY, THE RUSSIAN FUR MEKCHANT, FATHER OF OLGA OSTRELSKY, From a Photo, accordingly continued _ his visits and his courtship, and ignored, or affected to ignore, Miss Ostrelsky’s unmistakable aversion to his society. At the end of the third week the infatuated man renewed his offer, which was again rejected. A third, fourth, and fifth offer were all likewise rejected, and on each occasion Miss Ostrelsky declared her dislike of her per- sistent suitor in emphatic language. On the last occasion she fairly lost her temper. “T dislike you more than I can express in words,” she cried. “If you were the only man in the world I would not marry you. Your attentions are distasteful to me, and your per- sistence, after I have made my wishes known, is discourteous and brutal. I shall never permit you to see me again.” Ivan Ostrelsky, who at first openly and after- wards secretly favoured the suit of the great nobleman, now veered round and sided with his daughter directly her fixed determination became apparent to him. After her first and second rejections of) the Baron’s ‘suit)the ‘merchant had

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THE BARON’S WOOING. 123 shared the aristocrat’s belief that these refusals were simply due to maidenly caprice, and Mr. Ostrelsky had encouraged the young man to continue his visits and to persist in his court- ship. After the final scene with the discomfited Baron, however, Miss Ostrelsky told her futher that she would never see her admirer again, and that his visits to the house must be forbidden. The perturbed Ivan tried to argue with bis daughter, endeavouring to point out the numerous advantages of so brilliant a match, but Olga remained obstinate. “T would rather kill myself than be com- pelled to marry that man,” said the girl, passion- to all parties concerned if the aristocrat ceased his visits to the villa. On the following day Baron Liupianoff rode on horseback from his own residence to the merchant's villa. Entering the grounds, he dashed up to the house, opened the door, and strode in without further ceremony. Passing into the drawing-room, he found Miss Ostrelsky sitting in the company of her governess, Miss King, and frightened the ladies by his sudden appearance. Seizing the terrified Miss Ostrelsky in his arms, the Baron kissed her again and again, declaring that he intended to marry her. The girl’s screams soon brought the servants on “THE GIRL'S SCREAMS SOON BROUGHT THE SERVANTS ON THE SCENE.” ately ; and her father, who was well acquainted witn her self-willed character, realized that any further efforts to alter her determination would be absolutely futile. Accordingly, he wrote a polite note to the Baron, informing him that his attentions to Miss Ostrelsky were no longer desired, and that it would save embarrassment the scene, and they promptly threw themselves on the nobleman, with the intention of ejecting him from the house. ‘Taking advantage of the diversion thus caused, Miss Ostrelsky escaped from his grasp, fled from the room, and locked herself in her own chamber. Meanwhile ‘the Baron, who ‘was a man of

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124 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. extraordinary strength, dispersed his assailants with ease, bestowing on them black eyes, bieed- ing noses, and other conspicuous marks of his heavy fists. In his rage he demolished some of the furniture of the room and killed Miss Ostrelsky’s pet dog, which had flown at his throat, by a blow with the butt-end of his riding-whip. Then, mounting his horse again, he rode off and disappeared. Ivan Ostrelsky, wh» had been ab- sent during this outrageous inva- sion of his pre- mises, now realized the dangerous cha- racter of the young aristocrat, and took precautions to pre- venta repetition of his violent intru- sion. The ap- proaches to the grounds of the villa were hence- forth carefully guarded day and night by the mer- chant’s _ retainers, and half-a-dozen stalwart men were always in the house ready to protect their young mis- tress from annoy- ance. This took place in February, 1902. Henceforth Baron Liupianoff plotted and planned and schemed to kidnap the merchant’s beautiful daughter. Finally an oppor- tunity presented itself on the occasion of the midnight service held in the cathedral at Kazan on Easter Sunday. ‘The Baron, by means of his spies, ascertained that Miss Ostrelsky and her governess intended to drive from the villa to Kazan on the Sunday evening and to meet Ivan Ostrelsky at the cathedral. The two women would accordingly be alone and almost unpro- tected during the long drive of thirty miles, and the Baron perceived that this would be an excel- lent opportunity for carrying out his plan of kidnapping the girl. Notwithstanding the “THE BARON AND HIS TWO RETAINERS LEFT THE CASTLE. lawlessness prevailing in Russia and the licence which aristocratic magnates enjoy, the project was a dangerous one, and the Baron entrusted the secret only to two accomplices, his own groom and his personal valet, both sturdy, muscular fellows. On the evening of Easter Sunday the Baron and his two re- tainers left the castle mounted on powerful steeds ; they were armed with revolvers and daggers, and car- ried manacles, gags, and other appli- ances for the pro- jected outrage. At the castle a priest of the Orthodox Greek Church was waiting in readi- ness to perform the wedding ceremony between the Baron and the girl as soon as Liupianoff brought her to his home. On arriving at the side of the lonely road leading from Kasanbazh to Kazan, the Baron and his two re- tainers halted and eagerly awaited the arrival of the car- riage containing Miss Ostrelsky and her governess. In spite, how- ever, of the secrecy with which Baron Liupianoff had planned his coup, Ivan Ostrelsky had received information regarding the pro- jected seizure of his daughter. Baron Liu- pianoffs personal valet was a married man, and in an incautious moment he had confided the secret of the scheme to his wife. This woman, having no particular love for her husband, and seeing an opportunity of gaining money, betrayed the secret to Ivan Ostrelsky, receiving a liberal reward for her information. So, instead of allowing his daughter and her governess to drive atynight to the, cathedral, the enraged merchant \placed ‘two, ‘of his strongest

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THE BARON’S WOOING. 125 retainers in the carriage and two others on the box by the side of the coachman. The carriage was thus manned by five faithful servants of the merchant, all of whom were well armed and all fully prepared for an attack. Accordingly, when the luckless Baron and his two retainers “held up” the carriage, they met with a reception for which they were entirely unprepared. Ostrelsky’s five servants over- powered them after a short, sharp struggle, two companions were dragged down into the cellar to begin their long period of incarceration. During this time they were well fed, well clothed, and well attended. The cellar was comfortably warmed in winter and well ventilated in summer. The Baron and his companions, much as they chafed against their confinement, were reduced to passive obedience by chains attached to their ankles with leather straps, which pre- vented them from violent movements with- “THEY MET WITH A RECEPTION FOR WHICH THEY WERE ENTIRELY UNPREPARED.” bound them hand and foot, pitched them into the carriage, and drove them back to the mer- chant’s villa, where they arrived at midnight. The merchant himself was waiting to receive them, and when the Baron was brought before him he addressed him as follows: ‘“ You area dangerous character. You are worse than an outlaw, for your rank and position give you undesirable power. I see that my daughter will not be safe from your persecutions until she is married, and so I intend to keep you prisoner until she has the protection of a husband. Your men must share your imprisonment. My cellar has been prepared for your reception. Adieu.” This little speech ended, the Baron and his out otherwise seriously inconveniencing them. Every night they were permitted to leave the cellar and take one or two hours’ exercise in the surrounding park. On these occasions they were tied together and closely guarded by three or four of the merchant’s most faith- ful servants. In the earlier months of their captivity they attempted to break loose and to attract the attention of the merchant’s house- hold by noisy demonstrations. These outbreaks, however, were promptly suppressed by applica- tions of the knout, and in time the Baron and his two servants became accustomed to captivity and found it more advisable to submit quietly than to increase the severity of their punishment - by resistance,

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126 THE WIDE Three years and six months passed by before Miss Ostrelsky married, and Baron Liupianoft's captivity continued throughout this period. On the day of the departure of the merchant’s daughter on her honeymoon journey the Baron and his two retainers were liberated, being set loose in a district to which they had become practically foreigners. ‘The discomfited Baron promptly made his way to his home—only to find that he and his companions had been formally and legally adjudged dead_ persons! Their mysterious disappearance had created much curiosity at the time, but as months went by and no trace of them could be found they were written off in the Russian State Records as deceased, and their property passed into the hands of their legal heirs. A distant kinsman had taken possession of Baron Liupianoff’s great estates and was enjoying his position, while the wi of the two servants had both taken new husbands, and were anything but pleased to see their former partners in matrimony reappear ! What must be described as one of the most striking features of this remarkable case still remains to be told. As has already been stated, when he returned from St. Petersburg tohis estates Baron Liupianoff’s affairs were in an indifferent condition, owing to his years of extravagance in the capital. And though he then made a drastic change in his manner of living, it is doubtful if he would ever have succeeded in replenishing From a) of2 THE LAW COURTS AT KAZAN, WHERE BAROM LIUPIANOFF HAS FILED HIS PLEADINGS TO RECOVER "1 POSSESSION OF HIS OWN PROPERTY AND ESTATES, WORLD MAGAZINE. his depleted coffers. This, however, and a good deal more has been accomplished by the kins- man who succeeded the Baron in the custody of his estates. An energetic, resourceful man of affairs, during the period of his proprietorship he has completely transformed the Liupianoff estates and made them pay as they never did before, with the result that, if their former owner gets them back, he will enter into a vastly richer domain than that which he quitted so suddenly. The present possessor of the Liupianoff estates refuses to acknowledge the prematurely aged and enfeebled man who has reappeared after three and a half years’ absence as the right- ful Baron Liupianoff. The unfortunate prisoner has, therefore, gone to law to recover possession of his property. His pleadings have already been filed at Kazan, and the case at the moment of writing is expected to come on very shortly. After Baron Liupianoff has proved his identity and his right to possess his own property, pro- ceedings will doubtless be initiated against Ivan Ostrelsky for his treatment of the Baron and the Baron’s servants. It is significant in this con- nection that Ostrelsky has gone to the South of France for the sake of his health. Whatever the upshot of this remarkable affair, it is obvious that the Baron has indeed suffered severely for his wrongdoing, for surely an attempted abduc- tion never miscarried so badly before or with such disastrous results to the luckless lover. {Phote.

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in African ; Ms Bee ot F SlaveMar It will come with somewhat of a shock to most people to know that in this year of grace slavery in the public market. Mr. men and women are still bought and sold into In this article Bensusan describes his visit to the great slave-market at Marrakesh, the southern capital of Morocco, where you may buy human beings at a very low rate. flourished all over Northern and j, Central Africa. A couple of centuries ago the dreaded Barbary pirates would come even to the southern coast of England and carry Englishmen away prisoners. The fear of pirates was upon all Europeans who went down to the sea in ships, and many of Morocco’s Sultans received a regular tribute from the merchants of Europe’s great seaport towns in order that their merchantmen might be allowed to trade in peace and their seamen might not be enslaved. To-day we have changed all that. Slavery has been almost rooted out of Africa, but the Arabs remain slave-traders at heart, and there is more buying and selling even in this year of grace than most people imagine. In Morocco slavery has been the custom of the country since the Arabs took the land from the Berbers who had held it so long. Many of Morocco’s crumbling cities owe their walls and battlements to the unremitting labour of Christian slaves. Count- less are the stories of horror and outrage that some of the seventeenth and eighteenth century travellers have had to tell, and there are men still living and working who can remember the days when slaves were openly bought and sold in all Morocco’s coast towns. Thanks chiefly to the intercession of Queen Victoria, this traffic was stopped in the latter part of the last century, and to-day the slave-markets of Morocco are held either in the great capital cities or at some of the big country fairs. Down to a few years ago the Soudan was the unhappy hunting-ground of Arab slave-traders, and many a terrible story can be told by slaves, now in their middle age, of the journey they had to make from some remote village on the Niger to Morocco’s great southern capital, Marrakesh, where the greater part of the slave trade was carried on. Men, women, and children were stolen indiscriminately. The children were often packed in panniers on camels, and when the caravan, after travelling through the night to avoid the attacks of the Veiled Tuaregs, came to a halt with daybreak, there were dead bodies to be separated from the living and buried hastily. Sometimes it happened that the dying were left behind with the dead, because it was not worth burdening the camels for the sake of a slave who could not live through the day. If the caravans that reach Marrakesh to-day are few and far between it is not because of any change in the Moors’ mental attitude, but rather the result of French enterprise in Northern and Central Africa. -Timbuctoo_now belongs to

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128 France, and the caravans that used to file out from that city with their loads of gold-dust, ivory, and slaves are seen no more. On the south-east of Morocco, in the debatable country that really belongs to the Sultan, but is beyond his control, further French invasion has taken place, with the result that the slave trade with the oases of Tripoli and Tunisia has received its death-blow. But despite all these improve- ments there is still a very considerable slave trade in Morocco, and in Marrakesh, the Sultan’s southern capital, you can count slaves by the hundred, while, should you chance to be a subject of the Sultan and possessed of sufficient wealth, you may buy them by the score, from old men and women, who have already accomplished the greater part of their life’s work, and may be purchased at a very low rate, down to little boys and girls, who command a considerable price. I may also mention a fact that is perhaps quite unknown in this country, and seems to be a jealously guarded secret in Morocco. It is that there are white women-slaves in several parts of the country— From a) not Circassians, but seemingly women from Western Europe! One of the results of the comparative shortage of slaves that obtains to-day is seen in the better treatment accorded to them. Time was when slaves were so cheap that little more considera- tion was extended to them than is shown to the worn-out horses in the Plazas de Toros of Spain. If my memory serves me rightly, Sir John Drummond Hay in his book, “ Western Barbary,” tells the story of a man who was THE “ DILALS" (AUCTIONEERS) OPENING THE SALE OF SLAVES WITH PRAYER. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. F exhibiting his proficiency with the rifle to a Moorish country governor. He brought off a very difficult shot at a mark that a man was holding, and the Kaid, who also thought that he was a good shot, told one of his slaves to hold a mark between his feet. The shot shattered one of the poor fellow’s ankles. The Kaid's only comment was: “That is a pity; I gave eighty dollars for that fellow only a few weeks ago, and now he will be useless.” In these days slaves are more highly valued and more humanely treated, and there is some disposition on the part of their owners to grant the protection the Koran demands on their behalf. It must not be forgotten that Mohammed gave very strict injunctions to his followers to treat their slaves with kindness, give them ample food and good clothing, and forgive their trans- gressions. ‘ He who behaves ill to his slave,” said Mohammed, “shall not enter into Paradise,” and if this warning was forgotten in days when slaves were plentiful it is often remembered now. The slave-market of Marrakesh, in which countless thousands of slaves have found new (Photo. masters, is an exceedingly fascinating spot. When the “Court Elevated by Allah” is in Marrakesh the number of slaves bought and sold in the few hours ‘given to the traffic runs well into three figures, and it is a season of bad business in which you cannot count the slaves on offer by the score. The Sok el Abeed, as the slave-market is called, opens within two hours of sunset and closes with the call to evening prayer. In the morning and the early afternoon the. place, is_ used as) a: wool-market,

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AN AFRICAN SLAVE- MARKET. 129 but the merchants who deal in wool must bring their business to an end in ample time to hand the place over to the Government official who attends to collect a tax on all slaves sold, and to the auctioneers, known as d/a/s, whose business it is to conduct the sales and take charge of the slaves. The market is a large open place, almost circular in shape, with covered booths marking the circumference, and through the centre a long arcade on which time and change have worked their will for centuries. Some of the sights we must see in the course of the two hours’ traffic of the market are painful enough, even to the point of being revolting ; but if we are sufficiently just with ourselves and the Moors to reflect upon life as it is in the centres of Western civilization, we shall find that we have little occasion to congratulate our- selves upon the result of the comparison. The slave-market, for instance, is not as ugly as the streets of our big towns in their more sordid aspect. The. suffering of the slaves is less than the suffering of our own poor ; in fact, few of them are destined to know what hunger and thirst are like, when once they have found masters ; and if at times they are brutally handled, it is well to remember that negroid people are hardy, health- ful, and vigorous to an extent that makes ordi- nary punishment a mere laughing matter. Con- sequently, superlatives can be saved for use nearer home, and we may remain in the slave-market from the opening to the close, regarding all that passes with the consciousness that all insti- tutions like African slavery are destined to pass, and to pass very soon, although one may not be quite sure in his own mind whether the second state of the slaves will be better than .the first. For in Africa, in the countless thousands of miles where decent government is still to seek, the wants of mankind are primitive, and there is not enough food to go round. While the poor free man starves, the slave is fed. Again, when the slave em- braces the “true belief ”—ze., Islam, and has received the freedom that so often awaits him at the hands of masters who are anxious to make their peace Vol. xvii.—17. with Heaven, he is on terms of absolute equality with all men, and may rise to heights in the State that would be impossible in any Western civilization. Between four and five o’clock there is a steady procession of wealthy Moors towards the Sok el Abeed, and the trade in the Kaisariyah, the great bazaar quarter of Marrakesh, begins to languish, for every man of substance who can spare the time attends the slave-mart, even if he has no immediate intention of making purchases. He would not like to learn that some desirable slaves had been brought in at the last moment and had gone to a rival establishment at a com- paratively small figure. Therefore you will see a procession of wealthy old gentlemen, riding for the most part upon mules richly caparisoned, and attended perhaps by ore or two slaves, who run on foot and cry out to the pedestrians to make way. By the horseshoe door that gives entrance to the market—which, by the way, is situated right in the heart of the city—there is always a great crowd of beggar-boys waiting to hold the mule or horse of some unattended buyer, and you could not desire a more significant commentary upon the relative con- ditions of slavery and freedom than is afforded by these unhappy lads, who are, for the most part, homeless, ragged, and half starved, willing to work in any fashion for any length of time, in return for a microscopical wage. ‘The entrance to the market soon becomes almost impassable, and the men on duty at the door are vociferous in their demands that all mules, horses, and donkeys be taken immediately to the nearest fandak (inn), there to await their masters’ will. Add to the noise of the gate-keeper’s cries the shouts of some dozen boys who are anxious for

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130 THE WIDE a job, the indignant remonstrances of slaves in charge of their masters’ cattle, the droning bass sup- plied by beggars and lepers who have assembled at the market gate in hopes of appealing to the Charitable,’ and the indignant cries of the masters _ themselves, and you have as near an approach to pan- demonium as possible. Strange as the noises are the costumes. The tich Moor wears an outer garment called a selham, made of fine blue cloth that came from Man- chester ; others not quite so affluent are content with the white-hooded jellaba, while some of the beggars wear an outer garment of brown goat-skin, and the beggar-boys have a collection of rags that hold together by some special grace of the city’s patron saint, while the men of standing boast bright yellow slippers, and the poor folk go barefoot. The mules, too, testify to the wealth of their owners, some of the bits and bridles being of silver, while the trappings are decorated with some precious metal, and there are sometimes as many as seven saddle- cloths of varying colour. The colour, sound, and movement are made more Oriental than ever by the surroundings. The long, cobbled street has a row of windowless houses, the domed entrance to the market is thatched roughly with dry palm-leaves that have shifted from their place and dapple the ground with alternate light and shade, and above the din one hears the clear bell of the, water-carrier, the jingle of his tin cups, and his stentorian appeal to the thirsty to “refresh their souls.” The men on duty at the gates must refuse admission to all who are not likely to be dond fide buyers. It is not often that a European comes to the city, and when he does he is likely to find the gate barred, for the Moors hold that, since Europeans have done all in their power to obstruct the work of the slave-market, they are not to be trusted there. But though the term “baksheesh ” is not heard in Morocco quite so often as in Turkey, it has a measure of signifi- cance, even in far-off Marrakesh. It is worth a man’s while to turn his head the other way, From a) WORLD MAGAZINE. BOY SLAVES FROM THE SOUDAN—THEY ARE OFTEN BOUGHT BY WEALTHY MOORS AS COMPANIONS FOR THEIR OWN CHILDREN. (Photo. and soa little application of the first principles of popularity suffices to initiate us with no greater penalty than a hearty curse from a True Believer who happens to witness the procedure, and—perhaps ignorant of the fact that we have a very slight acquaintance with Moghrebbin Arabic—says, in tones devoid of emphasis, “Curse your religion !” Entering the bare ground of the market one finds that the best places in the central arcade have been taken already. It has never occurred to the auctioneers or to the managers of the market that a few benches are really in demand, because Moors are wont to sit upon a carpet on the ground. If you want sitting accommodation you must bring it yourself, or be content to squat upon the earth, after the custom of the country, or rest upon the low parapet that fringes either side of the central arcade. Having taken your seat, such as it is, you settle down in orthodox fashion to wait upon events. To show any sign of impatience or interest would be distinctly bad form. A Moorish gentleman never ex- presses emotion under any circumstances, and itis not “correct” to be interested in what is passing in the markets. For the Unbeliever who lives in the West, on the other hand, it is not an easy task to look on quite unconcerned, and his attention is soon directed to the booths round the wall of the market-place, in which the slaves are penned. Here there is an indescribable flutter. There are countless flashes of bright garments, sudden visions of men and women_and children, intent

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AN AFRICAN SLAVE- MARKET. 131 upon having the earliest glance at their possible purchasers. From some of these temporary shelters the children are peeping like young rabbits from a burrow, and, finding themselves unrebuked, they have even ventured to the entrance and look out quite uncon- cerned, seeking, indeed, to encourage com- panions who have less pluck to take a peep as well. It is because one notes that these invitations seldom find a response that it is possible to realize that the pluck and courage of those we see are not properly to be associated with the others. But at the same time one may allege without fear of contradiction that curiosity rather than fear is the dominant note From a) that comes from the slave-pens. Perhaps this is because the days of the caravan traffic are so nearly numbered, and the majority of the slaves to be sold know something of what awaits them. Some are from the household of a great man who has died quite recently, others from the establishment of a Wazeer who has fallen from favour, others have been weeded out from the services of wealthy masters to make way for new- comers. There are a dozen and one reasons that bring a slave to the market, and it is quite possible, if not quite likely, that not more than one in ten has been recruited by slave-raiders. These few will have been partly reconciled by the others, and their one great anxiety is prob- ably associated with the danger of separation. Here we have the most cruel aspect of the market — the possible separation of husband and wife, parent and child, sister and brother. PRESENTING SLAVES TO PROSPECTIVE PURCHASERS FOR INSPECTION. There is some little attempt to keep them together, some small recognition of the cruelty that separation entails, but, as a rule, procedure in the Sok el Abeed is not associated with any- thing like a sustained appeal to sentiment. The market is about to begin. See the line of about a dozen men that has just filed through the entrance. They are the auctioneers, the dilals, who brought their slaves to the Sok el Abeed some time before the earliest purchaser arrived, and have been occupied with the representative of the Government, giving him a list and description of all who are to be offered for sale. This preliminary work done, they are now coming to’the serious business of the after- noon. ‘They move in a line to a point of the market-place where there is some little shade, and then they turn towards the East, the sloping sun behind them. The chief auctioneer, standing in the middle of the line, now offers up an opening prayer. He praises Allah who made the world, and gave the True Faith through the instru- mentality of his pro- phet Mohammed. He curses Satan, who has sought vainly, but without ceasing, to destroy mankind. He praises Sidi bel Abbas, the patron saint ot the city of Marrakesh, and calls upon him to intercede with Allah in order that all who buy and sell in the slave-market may have health, prosperity, and length of days. Such are his appeals, delivered slowly, solemnly, and with a certain measure of dignified gesture ; and to one and all of them the di/a/s on either hand, and the buyers sitting at their ease along the central arcade or by the walls, respond with a pious “ Amen.” They hold it is no more than a seemly thing that business should commence with prayer, and the fact that the business happens to be buying and selling slaves does nothing to obviate the necessity. Prayers over, the d//a/s break up and proceed each to his pen or pens, to summon the occu- pants to range themselves in line. For a few moments the confusion is indescribable. ‘The dilals rush hither. and) (thither, arranging, ex (Photo.

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132 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) plaining, scolding; and the flutter of bright- coloured garments is greatly increased as the various women and children, upon whom the gaudy colours are to be seen, come from the depths of the dens that have sheltered them. But ifin moments of extreme confusion it has seemed that order will never be restored, it is not really very long before each di/a/ has mustered his forces and has commenced to march round and round the market-place. As there are nearly a dozen men in charge of groups numbering from six up to ten, it would be quite im- possible to follow the progress of one and all. It is necessary to pick out a typical group—one that con- tains men, women, and children — and to follow their pro- gress. Here is one to our hand. ‘Three or four children not yet in their teens; a sister and _ brother stolen from the Sou- dan and now in their sixteenth or seven- teenth year, facing a slave-market for the From a) BRISK BIDDING FOR A BROTHER AND SISTER. first time in their lives ; one or two vigorous men and women, and a very old and very black man who must well-nigh have passed his capacity for work. These are the people with whom we will concern ourselves. By the time the groups are in some order, and have commenced to tramp round and round the market - place, one sees that the dilal, whose progress we are watching, has taken the little children by the hand, and is _ followed closely by the adults. There is no sign of great excitement or unrest among the slaves. Only the boy and girl who are already grown up seem to feel their position acutely. The chil- dren are obviously uncon- cerned, and, if they take any interest at all in the proceedings, it is associated with their own bright garments, which, by the way, have been lent to them by the auctioneers in charge, in order that they may present a more attractive figure. When they have been purvhased their new owners must pay for these gaudy rags or return them. As he goes for the first and second time in a wide circle round the central arcade our (Photo. (Phote, A CORNER OF THO MARKET

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AN AFRICAN SLAVE- MARKET. 133 auctioneer proclaims the merits of his wares in general terms, and then a purchaser demands the price of the two middle-aged men, who seem to have years of considerable activity before them. The di/a/ pauses, and while the others of the party stand aside in order to clear the road for the remaining groups the dla/ presents the two slaves, who reply to various questions that the intending purchaser puts to them. The d@/a/ himself talks very volubly at this juncture; clearly he has the true commercial instinct, and the result must be satisfactory, for his patron names a price, and the aé/a/, with a pious “ Praise be to Allah who made the world,” gathers his company around him once again and moves off, proclaiming that the price of the two men is so many dollars, and urging the assembled buyers to do better still. Apparently they are not inclined to take From a} “OFFERED IN ONE LOT"—TWo advantage of their chances, for, after the circle has been completed twice more, the di/a/ pauses again and hands the two slaves over to their new master. By this time he has a bid for the grown boy and girl, and, summoning one of his companions to complete the negotiations and sign the papers relating to the purchase just concluded, he hurries off again, extolling the merits of the pair he hopes to sell next. In this case there is some short, sharp com- petition. The price rises by five and even ten dollars at a time, and then— ominous sign—there is separate bidding for the boy and the girl, bidding that hints at separation. However, in the end, a great country Kaid, who has travelled from Tarudant, SLAVES TIED TOGETHER. in the Sus country, to make some purchases, secures the pair, and they pass out of the pro- menading circle into the care of one of his stewards—himself a slave. I watched carefully for some expression of emotion on the faces of these two young people who had been stolen and sold as though they were chattels, but it was perfectly impossible to note anything more than bewilderment. While a highly nervous man or woman from the West would exhibit emotion unmistakably, these simpler children of Nature are curiously restrained. If they have any feelings, they are concealed. It is more than likely that they are not properly roused ; they have known little of comfort or liberty in their earlier days, and being inured to hard work and scanty living they are hardly sensible of any far-reaching change. Without being Moham- medan they must have some faith in predesti- nation. Moreover, they have not been separated, although, of course, separation must needs follow their arrival in the new home. The sale has now been in progress for an hour or more. Of all who entered the market in charge of the auctioneers less than a dozen remain un- sold, and these are the oldest, the least capable, and the least attractive of all the slaves. The children have fetched comparatively high prices, and it may be remarked that in all probability the majority are not going to hard service or unkind treatment. In the first place, Moors are inclined to be kind to children; in the second, it is the custom of wealthy Moors who have little ones of their own to buy slave children to act as companions for them, and as these children grow up they are often promoted to some place of responsibility in the household, from which they can, if they are gifted and intelligent, rise to a tolerable position. The men who have been in estab- lishments from boyhood frequently obtain positions of trust. Presently there was a sudden interruption in the market-place, from a little group in front of me. Here we saw the one dramatic incident of the afternoon. Since the market opened a woman, who was approaching middle age, had been tramping round and round without in- teresting the buyers. Now at last there had been some small. bid for her. It had been (Photo.

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134 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. EL HARA, THE WALLED SUBURB OF MARRAKESH, WHERE SLAVES WHO DEVELOP LEPROSY ARE SENT, From a Photo, accompanied by the usual queries that all buyers make. There had been no hesitation about reply, but at the very last moment, when the sale was completed, the woman raised her voice, and cried aloud that she was of the True Faith, and had been stolen ! Instantly there was an outcry, and the con- cern of the auctioneer was very genuine in- deed. If the woman’s protest was correct, and she would hardly have made it otherwise, here was a scandal of some dimensions, for it is no small matter, even in Morocco, to sell a free Moslem woman _ into slavery. Whether by chance or custom, a representative of the Governor was sitting in the market- place, and the woman told her story to him, while all the younger loungers left in the market gathered round in great excitement, and even the more serious elderly folk, whom nothing could surprise, found it unnecessary to disguise a certain measure of interest. By the instructions of authority the sale of the woman was held to be invalid. Notice was sent to her owner to attend the Kasbah, and by the time this little matter was settled the mueszin was calling from the nearest minaret — that the hour of evening prayer had come. Straightway the dilals withdrew their last unsold slaves, the remaining buyers made haste to leave, and within a few minutes the market - place was as completely deserted as it had been when the wool-merchants re- tired in the early after- noon. IWO LITTLE GIRLS RESCUED FROM THE SLAVE-MARKET BY THE MISSIONARIES, From a Photo,

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A MODERN FREE-LANCE. By M. H. pve Hora. IIlL—THE AFFAIR AT TUIUTI. In this exciting story the author describes how Marshal Lopez, the would-be Napoleon of South America, used the hand of his beautiful daughter as a bait to lure Mr. de Hora into his service. As a result, the author led a desperate forlorn hope against the enemy’s fleet, with what result is shown in the narrative. ; [BOUT eight o’clock one evening in | the month of October, 1867, a lady | and I were slowly pacing up and down the terrace in front of a gu:nta ~ (country house) situated on the banks of the Parana River, a little above Asuncion, the capital of the State of Paraguay, South America. It was one of those wondrous tropical nights which go so far towards compensating for the heat of the day, and making life in such countries not only possible, but almost enjoy- able. Overhead the nearly full moon hung suspended in the dark blue-sky like a great lamp, surrounded by innumerable stars. A- gentle breeze wafted the languorous perfume of the giant magnolias upwards from the shrubbery which fringed the bank of the river, whilst all around innumerable fireflies danced to the shrill piping and drumming of the cicadas and tree crickets. Suddenly the curtains which hung before the door opening from the interior of the guinfa on to the veranda were drawn aside by a young girl. Standing there, holding the curtains apart, she looked like an etherealized Rembrandt painting, her beautiful face thrown into strong relief by the amber light of the lamp suspended from above. Instinctively my companion and I paused in silent admiration. “You love her ?” said the lady, interrogatively. “T do, with all my heart and soul,” I replied, fervently. The lady smiled inscrutably. ‘Before you can win her, Senior de Hora,” she responded, “you must do and dare much.” The lady, I must here explain, was the notorious and beautiful Mme. Lynch, the morganatic wife of Marsial Solano Lopez, Dictator of Paraguay. The girl was her daugh- ter Francesca, said to be the most beautiful girl in all South America, the land of many lovely women. She was barely sixteen, and— well, gloriously beautiful is the only possible description of her. I was a young fellow of about twenty, but looking older owing to my good physique. A love of travel and adventure had landed me in Paraguay, where I had been introduced to Mme. Lynch, who, taking a fancy to me, had invited me out to the guzfa, where I had remained, enchanted by the beauty of Francesca —with whom, like every other impressionable young man who came in contact with her, I had fallen in love at first sight. Strange to say, I had been encouraged to remain by Marshal Lopez, who lavished on me the bounteous hospitality for which Spaniards are so celebrated. About this time Marshal Lopez—who con- sidered himself a second Napoleon, and was meditating the conquest of the whole of South America—declared war against the Empire of Brazil and the Republics of Argentina and Uruguay. The fleets and transports conveying the allied armies were already on their way up the Parana River to exterminate Lopez and blot the word Paraguay from the map of South America. Later*on the evening when my story opens the Marshal asked me to accompany him to his study. After courteously motioning me to a seat and offering mea cigar, the Marshal said :— “Sefior de Hora, I have not been blessed with a son, but my daughter is all that any man could desire, and I look to her to secure for me by her marriage a son-in-law worthy of my trust. Madame tells me that you love Francesca, and ” —he paused and looked intently at me—“I can see for myself that you do. I have watched you narrowly during the time you have been here, and what I have seen of your character I have admired. Believe me, I have turned many suitors from my daughter, but I have tacitly allowed you to be always in her company, for through your love for her I wished to attach you to myself. It is time that the Continent of South America took its place amongst the nations. Naturally the richest in the world, it is the most impotent, for since the decline and fall of the great Spanish wreynato (vice-kingdom) the whole of this unhappy Continent has been torn by petty dissensions, revolutions, and futile wars. Mencall me ambitious—I am; but I am more than that, for my one aim in life is to establish a great kingdom, a great power, so great that it shall become the admiration of the rest of the world. If you will aid me to do it, De Hora, and we live to accomplish it, your children will succeed me as its governors. Think what you will fight and toil for whilst helping me — wealth, power, and the most beautiful woman in the Continent, besides the knowledge that your children may rule over the fairest dominion on the earth!”

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136 THE WIDE WORLD Throughout his career Salano Lopez was noted for his extraordinary powers of eloquence, and I—a mere boy of twenty, head over heels in love with his daughter—was completely carried away. Rising from my seat and holding out my hand I cried, excitedly, ‘“ Your Excel- lency, I am yours to command, and the only reward I hope for is your consent to my marriage with Francesca. Command me, ask me any- thing, and if it is mortally possible I will do your will and accomplish all you may request.” “Tt is well, sir,” said Lopez, and he tinkled a small silver hand-bell that stood on the table beside him. With a smile on her beautiful face his daughter entered. ‘ Francesca,” said the Marshal, turning to her, “Senor de Hora has informed me that he loves you, and, under certain conditions, I have consented to receive him as a suitor for your hand ; but I command you, my daughter, to regard him only as a suitor on probation and not as an accepted lover.” é As the Dictator spoke these words Francesca made.a step towards me and half extended her hand. “Stop!” thundered Lopez. “Is it you, my daughter, who will set the example of disobe- dience to my command? Have I not just told you that Sefor de Hora is only a suitor, and not to be viewed in the light of an accepted lover? He has first to win my consent. But go; I will speak to madame, your mother, as to the steps to be taken for guarding your future.” Then to me: “ You had better accom- pany her; no doubt you will find madame in the salon.” Next morning Lopez again sent for me to his study, and showed me a number of despatches which he had received. They mainly related to the fact that the allied fleets and transports had disembarked numbers of troops at a point some fifty miles below the forts of Humaita, where Lopez had had a chain cable stretched across the river, with a view to impeding the passage of the enemy’s vessels up the river. “Tam about to require from you your first knightly service for my daughter’s hand,” he said. “I want you to take command ofa special body of picked men, and with them endeavour to surprise and capture some of the enemy's men-o’-war. I note the look of surprise on your face; you think the deed an impossible one. Nevertheless, 1 think it not only possible but fairly easy, for I have thought out a scheme the very audacity of which will ensure its success, especially as the men who will accompany you are the bravest of the brave Guaranis, in whom I have further inspired the belief that if they die fighting with you at Tuiuti they will immediately MAGAZINE. come to life again in A.uncion, where I will honour them with wealth and promotion. Briefly, my plan is as follows.” He walked to the window, beckoning to me to look out. “You see that river,” said Lopez. “Do you note anything on it?” I gazed long and earnestly, but beyond a few large patches of camelots (a kind of water-lily) floating placidly down the stream on the bosom of the river I saw nothing, and so I informed the Dictator. “ Exactly,” said Lopez; ‘the camelots!” Then he went on excitedly. “Listen, my friend. You will proceed down the river to-day with two hundred picked men, and on arrival below Humaita you will construct out of the trunks of cabbage palms, which have already been cut for the purpose, eight large rafts. You will couple the rafts together in pairs with a piece of hide rope, allowing a drift of about fifty feet between each raft. As soon as it is dark, on each raft twenty-five men will lie down, and they will be covered up with camelots. The rafts will be then set adrift down the river, the idea being that the rope coupling up each pair will be caught athwart the hawsers of the enemy’s ships, and the rafts will naturally then fall along- side the vessels. As soon as all the rafts have drifted down, at a signal from you your men must jump on board the respective vessels and carry them by force of arms, for I am certain that the sentries and look-outs will not be able to distinguish between your rafts and the real floating islands. So, you see, the very simplicity and audacity of my subterfuge will ensure its success. Why I have chosen you to command is because you are the only person of education in my entourage that knows anything of the great sea and ships, for my State is an inland one, and beyond the management of canoes my people know nothing of seamanship. That you will be able to capture them I am certain, but that you will succeed in bringing them up the river I doubt. If you find it is impossible to do that you must sink them, for simultaneously with your attack on the vessels I shall attack the enemy’s camp in person with the whole of my army. If we are successful, so great will be the blow inflicted upon them by cutting off their means of retreat and supplies, and the conse- quent demoralization that must fall upon their army, that, long before they can concen- trate and send a second force to attack me, I hope to have annihilated those that are here. Then I shall assume the offensive myself and march at the head of my victorious army into their own country, and continue in triumph until the whole of South America calls me Emperor.”

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A MODERN FREE-LANCE. 137 After an affectionate farewell with Francesca, the raptures of which were terribly curtailed owing to the presence of Marshal Lopez and Mme. Lynch, I found myself at Humaita, whither I had gone accompanied by the brave Guarani Indians in canoes. The rafts were duly constructed and taken down the river to a point a few miles above fhe spot where the allied fleet and trans- ports were an- chored. Word was brought to me from Marshal Lopez that the attack was to take place on the night of the 3rd of Novem- ber, by which time the Marshal would be ready to co-operate by attacking the enemy’s camp about midnight. The messenger also requested my permission to address the men in the Guarani language, as he had a message to deliver to them from Marshal Lopez. The men were summoned, and formed into a circle, in the centre of which the messenger and I took up our positions. Turning slowly round so that all the Indians could see him, the messenger held up his right hand, on the fourth finger of which glittered the Marshal's signet-ring—at the sight of which the men all prostrated themselves. When they had risen again, he addressed them, speaking in their own language—%lowly at first, but as the men gathered enthusiasm from his words they seemed to roll from him in a torrent of eloquence, which concluded amidst a scene of wild excitement, as he called for vivas for the Marshal and myself, to whom he finally turned, saying in Spanish: “ You will succeed, sejfior ! Vol. xvii, —18. “HE ADDRESSED THEM, SPEAKING IN THEIR OWN LANGUAGE.” Have no fear; you will find the men you have to lead will want no prompting for the fight. Good-bye to you, and luck go with you.” The afternoon of the 3rd was spent by us in making final preparations, and as soon as dusk set in the men took their places onthe rafts. They were naked, with the exception of loin-cloths, and their bodies were carefully oiled all over with thick potro grease as a preventive against the chill of the water, and also against their foes grappling with them in the hand-to-hand combat which was bound to ensue. They were armed with machetes (short, heavy swords) and long Spanish knives, the only firearm amongst them being my Colt pistol. The signals arranged to be exchanged between the rafts as to their steer- ing, etc., which was to be done by the men on the outer edge of the rafts using their hands as paddles, were so many croaks in imitation of the /one/ero frogs. All conversation was absolutely forbidden, and on no account were the men to move. The greatest danger we ran was from an attack by alligators, with which the flat banks of the river in places fairly swarmed. This fear, however, did not seem to trouble the simple Indians, so full of courage were they and so satisfied in their hearts with the assurance given them by Marshal Lopez that in the event of their death they would come to life again in Asuncion. About eight o’clock the rafts were let go and the drift began. ‘There was a crescent moon, which, with the tropical brilliance of the stars,

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138 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. served to illuminate the wide expanse of the river. The current ran at about a mile and a half per hour, and I calculated that by about half-past eleven or a quarter to twelve we should be down upon the foremost vessels of the allied fleet, by which time the moon would have sunk nearly below the horizon. Alternate thoughts of Francesca and the combat served to while away the first hour or so, but at length the cramped position and the awful monotony— relieved only by the occasional splash of a fish or alligator, or the occasional croaking of the men on the rafts as steering signals—began to tell upon my nerves, and I would have given almost anything to be able to turn round, or sit upright, or shout aloud to relieve myself. A sense of duty, however, strengthened by the increasing admiration which I felt for the stoical behaviour of my men, at length overcame my nervous depression, and left me as calm and determined as the leader of a forlorn hope should be. At length, as we drifted round the bend of the river and came into the long reach of Tuiuti, we caught sight of the enemy’s fleet, and I knew that the time for action hadcome. It was midnight, asnearas I could judge by the ap- pearance of the Southern Cross, when the rafts got entangled with the vessels of the enemy which lay far- thest up-stream —the Mande- aero and Jaco- tinga, Brazilian gunboats; the Manaos, a Bra- zilian transport ; and the Parana, a small Argen- tine gunboat. Suddenly the booming of cannon, coming from the direc- tion of the allied camp on the ““4 CROWD OF ARMED MEN BOARDED WITH AN IRRESISTIBLE RUSY.” west bank of the river, told me that Marshal Lopez was carrying out the plan he had fore- shadowed. Hastily I fired two shots from my revolver—the preconcerted signal—and, as though by magic, what had seemed only patches of harmless water-lilies to the few sentries on board the vessels became converted into a crowd of armed: men, who boarded with an_ irresistible rush, overpowering the watch on their decks before they had time to recover from their astonishment and surprise and utter a cry. The consequent struggle and confusion on the decks of the attacked vessels was at first taken little notice of by the other ships lying farther down the stream, those on board of them no doubt attributing the noise to the men being turned out on deck on account of the battle which was evidently taking place on shore. Presently, however, they began to grow suspicious, and a couple of rockets, red and blue, went up from the Amazonas, the Brazilian flagship, farther down the river. This signal was answered by the other vessels, with the excep- tion of the four which we had at- tacked, burning a blue light. Fighting had ceased on the Mandeviero, of which I was on board, and the Jacotinga. Hardly any re- sistance had been made by the Manaos, but a stubborn struggle was still going on on the Parana, and so, first setting fire to the Mande- wero, and in- structing those on the Jacotinga and Manaos to do the same, I hastily lowered the boats of the three vessels, embarked those of my men who survived, and went to the

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A MODERN FREE-LANCE. ” assistance of those on the Parana. I did not arrive one moment too soon. Of the fifty men who had boarded her barely twenty were alive. On her broad flush deck, lit by the weird glare of several blue lights, about a hundred infuriated men were engaged in a desperate struggle. Thinking, no doubt, that the Parana had been captured, the other vessels of the fleet opened fire on us, and amidst the screaming and bursting of shells, the reports of small arms, the groans of the wounded and dying, and the yells of the com. batants, the awful fight went on. We made several attempts to fire the vessel, but the Parana was built of iron and would not readily ignite. Finally, by an heroic “MY RECEPTION BY THE MARSHAL WAS A MOST CORDIAL ONE.” effort, the remaining men on the Parana were driven overboard and the ship was ours. ing that boats were being got out from the other vessels and rapidly filled with armed men, no doubt with the intention of a counter attack, I hastily embarked the remnants of my force in the ships’ boats I had captured and retreated up the river, only dis- turbed by a: few parting shells, none of which took effect. Evi- dently the allies did not dare to follow, for fear of falling into some trap. Marshal Lopez's attack on the allied camps had been successful on the Brazilian wing, where he commanded in person, but the attacks on the Argentine and Uru- guay sections had been repulsed. See- THE SENTED TO MR. DE HOKA WHE NIGHT ATIACK AL TUIUET. ONLY FORTY-SIX WERKE STRUCK. From a Photo. 139 He therefore re- turned with his army to Humaita, where I, with the forty-four sur- * vivors of the forlorn hope, were waiting for him. My reception by the Marshal was a most cordial one, Lopez dis- mounting from his horse and em- bracing, not only myself, but every one of the de- voted band. He decreed that a special medal should be struck at Asuncion and given to each man*, together with a sum of money and the tight to select a farm one league square anywhere on the Govern- ment lands. He also publicly an- nounced the be- trothal of his daughter and my- self, our marriage not to take place until the completion of the war. That marriage never took place. Long before the end of the war and the fall and death of the ambitious Lopez—he was shot by a party of Brazilian cavalry whilst hiding in a swamp—I found out that the beautiful Francesca was not only a heartless but a willing decoy, using her almost supernatural beauty for the purpose of ensnaring and attracting to her father’s cause any and every young and adventurous man who came within the sphere of her influence and who was likely to prove of use in furthering her father’s schemes. And so, beyond my medal and a few scars, I have nothing to show for the affair at Tuiuti. + Aya matter of fact, nly forty-six were struck —yne for each man and une for Lopez himself.

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Among Insurgents and Brigands in Crete. By Cuar.es H. Hawes. An account of a semi-scientific journey in the interior of Crete. Mr. Hawes’s trip through this turbulent country was by no means devoid of incident, and his photographs add considerably to the interest of his descriptions. RESENTLY I went a few yards } ahead so as to pick a path for the mules, which were considerably frightened at the steepness of this, —— the grandest and loneliest of all the passes in Crete. While we were slowly making our way down the precipitous zigzag, 1 caught sight of the two men who had just left us s:tting beneath a cypress tree. I supposed that they were tired, and dismissed them from my mind. I passed on beneath their resting-place, but as my servant came level with them I heard an exchange of words, and then suddenly and excitedly Costis cried to me in Greek, “ They’re going to fire, sir!” Quickly I looked up and saw, about a dozen yards above, the muzzles of two rifles resting on a rock and levelled at me. It is dis- tinctly awkward, when you are a per- son accustomed to deliberate decision, to have to make up your mind in an instant. Nor was it conducive to a calm weighing of pros and cons to feel that those menacing- looking barrels might vomit bullets at any moment. One thing was clear; I need / not understand too much Greek. I therefore stood and called up, “Dhen katalambano ; ti the- lete?” (I don’t un- derstand ; what do you want ?) Promptly and ex- citedly came the answer: “Ekato napoleonia” (one hundred napoleons —eighty pounds). From a) IL. COSTIS, THE AUTHOR'S CRETAN SERVANT, Scarcely a modest request, I thought, but perhaps I ought to feel flattered at this valua- tion of my life. I laughed—I must confess it was a hollow sort of laugh—and stood for a moment with one foot on the slope, deliberat- ing. Then 1 beckoned to them, calling to them to come down. But they only cried out the more, ‘“ Ekato napoleonia !” As they would not come to me, it seemed that I had better go to them. I should feel very much more comfortable, and there would be more chance of a harmonious settlement, if we could get so close to one another as to pre- clude the pointing of rifles at me. With this object I had taken a step upwards, when my servant, seeing my intention, entreated me not to go. Luckily, 1 did not persist, for I had. not understood his first warning. He spoke only Greek, and he had called to me, “They're going to fire! Get your pistol, sir!” He knew that I was absolutely without arms, but he hoped that our as- sailants would be frightened at this reference to arms. It was obvious that if I had clambered up the brigands, or wild shepherds as_ they really were, would have supposed that I was going to make sure of revolver shots at close range. What was to be done? It is curious how quickly thoughts flash through one’s mind. I remember feeling conscious that I was an Eng- lishman, and that there were certain

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AMONG INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN traditions attach- ing to the name. So, turning to my servant, I said, “Never mind; let us go on.” All this time Costis had been behaving excel- lently; and, though of a ner- vous tempera- ment, he only showed it by get- ting very angry. He threatened the enemy with the English Con- sul and all the powers that be; but his words ap- eRe) so SLs SF OTT parently had little ) effect except to FROM ONE OF THE HUTS AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL CAME THE make our progress BRIGANDS WHO ATTACKED slower. ‘To at- Froma\ wawss. (Photo. tempt to escape by flight was out of the question. First, it would have been impossible without giving up the mules and all our baggage ; and, secondly, as our pursuers were above us and probably our superiors in the art of climbing, we should have stood little chance when they started firing. No; the obvious thing to do was to take not the slightest notice of them, and trust that they would not shoot us in cold blood. We therefore proceeded as before, only more slowly, I stopping at corners of the steep zigzag to wait for Costis, who was still angrily haranguing the brigands. Seeing that I was continuing my journey they called out to me, “Eh, koumbarios!” (Hail, comrade !), the usual salutation when accusting a stranger to ask the way. This having no effect, the rascals took to throwing stones to attract my attention. ‘This was language which the speaker of any tongue ought to have under- stood, but I was determined to maintain the fiction of indifference, and emphasized it by striking at the flowers unconcervedly with my’ oleander switch. It was not surprising, under these circum- stances, that their patience gave out; every brigand, amateur or professional, expects to be taken seriously when he points a rifle at you. Presently, therefore, they began to shoot. The first two shots, fired at a distance of about forty yards, were a little startling ; the reports rang out surprisingly loud, reverberating round the lofty walls of the gorge, and I wondered dimly whether the bullets would hit either of us. CRETE. 141 After the first two shots had missed us, how- ever, my interest in them diminished. Two more shots followed quickly from the same spot, but with no better success. I began to think it was high time now not to give the rascals any chances by standing at the corners, so I kept moving. I had not seen the men since I had called to them to come down, still keeping up my assumed indifference; but now I heard them come clambering down to get nearer aim. All through the affair my servant, leading the two mules, managed to keep out of the line of fire, excepting once, when a shot just escaped the animals’ noses and his leg. Suddenly two more shots rang out in the stillness, fired at twenty-five yards only. A bullet hit a big rock at my left elbow and sent the splinters in all directions, many brushing my forehead. I began to realize that things were getting warm. Again the brigands clambered down, and resting their rifles on a rock’ emptied them once more. Just the same thing happened as before, save that this time it was a rock on my right that was struck. Yet once again down these wretched marksmen came, nearer, and fired again. A thud and a shower of splinters told that another boulder had intercepted the bullets. Perhaps the stay-at-home reader scarcely realizes whatcit’ feels ike to’ be ‘fired at. The

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142 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. physical strain in my case brought on a reaction. If one is going to be shot it is pleasanter to have it all over at once. I continued my journey, But I felt secretly ashamed when, a minute later, I welcomed Costis’s proposal as he called to me, “Give them one of the mules, sir. I recognise one of them; he is from the plain above.” I was inclined to look upon this as a good piece of advice and suggested my grey mule, as this would make it easier to track the brigands down afterwards. This offer was shouted up through the trees, but there came no reply. I must do our assailants credit for not shooting at us as we stood to parley. Receiving no answer I turned to go on, Costis begging me to lead my own mule as some protection to my person against bullets. Suddenly, guns in hand, the two brigands emerged from the trees, calling : “Give us twenty-five francs !” Their demands had dropped, with Oriental suddenness, about seventy-nine pounds! I had not forgotten that I was in the East, how- ever, and so replied, reluctantly: “No; I will give you ten.” Thereupon they came nearer, with their rifles pointing upwards, protesting that they would not shoot. Finally, after some haggling, they agreed to accept the ten francs. It was, of course, with much apparent difficulty that I made up the ten francs, and not without the aid of several nickel coins ; but even then they were shy of taking them from me. Possibly they were afraid of some ruse—per- haps of the pistol which I did not possess! With a gesture of impa- tience I said :— “Oh, if you are afraid to take it, I'll put it upon a rock.” My servant, however, came for- ward as intermediary. And now happened an untoward incident. Pocketing the ten francs, the elder brigand said: “Look here! You told us you had no money, and yet here are ten francs! Give us more! From a} Costis, putting his hand in his pocket, took out some small change—two or three francs— and gave it to them ; whereupon the taller one seized him by the wrist. I was standing on guard over the mules, and called out angrily, “Stop that! You agreed upon ten francs!” My words checked Costis’s assailant, but .only for a moment ; then he began to search for his prisoner's purse. I took a step forward to his rescue, but the other man had evidently counted on this. , Quietly he cocked his rifle, rested it on a rock, and covered me at six yards. I was beautifully caught, and had no option but to stop where I was. Presently they found Costis’s purse, which con- tained nineteen francs. The sight of the coins whetted their appetites, and they began to realize that I was unarmed and that we were powerless to defend ourselves except at close quarters. As we moved on, therefore, they followed closely, demanding more money. Was this wretched business to drag on for another two or three hours? I determined to make an effort to end it then and there. So, pulling out four or five francs from my pocket, I flung them to the leading brigand with an angry “Go!” While he stooped to pick up the money we pushed on down the steep gorge. For the next hour we were aware that at any moment a loud report might break the stillness of the scene and herald 1 THF HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF SAMARIA WHERE THE AUTHOR STAYED AFTER HIS ESQAHR) RUM THE BRIDANDS, (Photo,

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0 AMONG INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN CRETE. 143 ON THE WAY TO THE LIBYAN SEA—AT ONE POINT THE DEFILE NARROWED TO A PASSAGE ONLY TEN FEET From a) WIDE (Photo. a fresh attack ; but, apparently, after a halloa We had got off for less than thirty shillings altogether, and I with the humiliation of having my capital value, from a highwayman’s point of view, drop suddenly from eighty pounds to eight shillings ! Two and a half hours later, by dint of dragging and pushing our mules through the mountain torrent again and again, and leaping many boulders, we reached the poor little hamlet of Samaria, which for four months in the year is inaccessible, on account of the only “road” or two the brigands gave up the pursuit. being lost beneath the rushing torrent. Next day I pursued my way to the Libyan Sga through a defile narrowing at one point to a passage only ten feet wide. The animals had in and the course of that morning to be urged dragged about thirty times through the tor- rent and over slippery boulders. Ultimately I emerged on to the sea, the southern en- trance of the pass being guarded by two ruined Turkish blockhouses—reminiscences of the revolution of 1866. here could be no doubt that we had entered Sphakia pro- vince, owing to the number of people we met carrying rifles. For the next few days my journey lay eastwards along the southern slope of the Sphakiote Mountains, saving only for a trip to Gavdes. This isa small island lying about twenty-three miles south of Crete and rumoured to be peopled by descendants of the old-time corsairs. It has seldom been visited by Euro- peans, and the journey was accom- plished by chartering a caique speci- ally to take me to and from the island. At Sphakia, the capital of the pro- vince of the same name, a_ place boasting a population of under six hundred inhabitants, I found the whole forty A horophyllakes of the county huddled there for safety, having fled from their local stations. It is true that war had been de- clared against the gendarmerie by the insurgents, but though I found the Sphakiotes enjoying the long- denied privilege of carrying arms, in nine-tenths of the province the people were not at all interested in the revolution. Five Italian officers (Carabiniere) of the gendarmerie, learning that I was travelling with only one servant, expressed their great disapproval and AT SPHAKIA—A MILK-BOY FROM (THE MOUNTAINS WITH HIS GOAT-SKIN From aj Kcnunyy (Photo.

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144 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. kindly assured me that I should certainly get shot. I replied that brigands had already made one attempt, and that get back over the mountains I must. “Can you sell me a rifle or a revolver?” I asked. They regretted that they had but one each. ‘The only advice they could give me was to wait for the arrival of a gunboat. Such an event seemed very remote, and did not solve the problem for me; but I rather fancied that they had sent for one specially, for they were themselves taken off in less than a week bya warship. The next night I occupied their and, as we were warned by the villagers that it would be impossible to find our way, we took a young peasant to guide us, carrying an axe as a weapon. He led us first by an exceedingly stiff ascent and then among the lower mountain summits—an extremely lonely way, where only vultures were to be seen, wheeling overhead, until we saw down below us, in a mountain lacustrine plain, Kallikrates. ‘Che major part of the population of this village was below in summer quarters at Patoiana, threshing and winnowing, and I trekked the next morning for Asphedon, Nimbros, and Askephou. Before From a) deserted station at the village of Patoiana, and was again pestered with futile warnings concern- ing the desperate marksmen of the mountains. This was distinctly cheerful, seeing that I was on the eve of tackling the most dangerous part of the return journey across the White Mountains. From Patoiana I pushed on eastward to the village of Skaloti, and from there intended to attempt an unknown track which would allow me to visit two or three additional villages. My servant was averse to this, however, wishing to retrace our steps and take the more beaten track, which joined the other half-way across the great range, becoming from that point the eastern pass which ] mentioned earlier. Con- siderations of work and science won the day, A GROUP OF INTERESTED CRETANS IN THE VILLAGE OF SKALOTI. (Photo. we reached the village of Asphedon I had one doubtful quarter of an hour. The way led among barren limestone summits, and rounding one of these there suddenly appeared before us two armed men. Their rifles were slung ever their shoulders, but directly they saw me they brought their guns into their hands, “Oh, bother it!” I said to myself, “here are two more brigands !” : Assuming an unconcern which I did not feel, however, 1 rode on with the usual greeting, which was scowlingly returned. Neither of us even looked back, and for the next ten minutes, until we had rounded the opposite hills, we were left in doubt as to whether a shot would come our way or not.. Either they were dona fide insurgents. and, ‘my (recent | experience had

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AMONG made me nervous, or we had come su suddenly upon them as to give them no time to concert measures. Askephou was reached late that afternoon. Contrary to Government orders, the Greek flag was flying over the new school, and a motley crowd of armed and unarmed men was gathered at the Zaffeneton. Cards and backgammon were in full swing, and as if to maintain their sinister reputation the Askephioks were having a violent A TYPICAL CRE 3K SCENE — THE WOMEN ARE > WOOL WHILE THE MAN S HIS BOOTS. _ From a Photo, by R. Behacddin, quarrel among themselves, which again and again threatened to end in_ bloodshed. Considerable tact was required here, and I had to be on the alert for any suspicious behaviour. It was so easy, as 1 was after- wards warned, for any of the motley com- pany to learn my movements and to post themselves behind a rock in a lonely part of the way and make a target of me. How- ever, I spent the night in safety, in the deserted mairie over the affeneion. By noon of the next day, with good luck, we should be outside the zone of danger. The final height would be crossed, and the northern slopes and plains of Apokoronso reached. Here, though the revolution was in full swing, the village- dotted region spelt safety for us. During my absence the town of Vamos had been captured by the insurgents, and now I INSURGENTS AND BRIGANDS IN CRETE. 145 rode direct for it. There was a much more martial air about the place than at ‘Therisso, and there were several hundred armed men in occupation. Drilling, marching, and haranguing were proceeding busily, and as I entered I met the insurgent leader, M. Manos. I reported the attack in the Omalos gorge to him, for it was of no use acquainting the Government au- thorities, since they have no power within that region nor are likely to have for months, and _per- haps years. In token of their as- sumed authority and responsibility for order M. Manos immedi- ately offered, on behalf of the insurgents, to refund me the thirty-six francs, which, how- ever, I natu- rally refused. Later on, al- thoughrumours of the arrest of the two men by the revolutionaries were current in the Candia bazaar, they were still at large two months after- wards, and are likely to remain so. I do not wish the reader to conclude this account of my experiences with the impression that Crete is teeming with brigands. My last illustration shows some villagers pursuing the even tenor of their way—women spinning wool and the man cobbling his boots. This is a truer picture of the general state of the island. Nevertheless, it is a fact that at the moment of writing Crete is in a very disturbed state, and hardly the place for unarmed and_ nervous tourists to select for a visit. THE Enp. Vol. xvii.—19,

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The Tragedy of Manipur. A STRANGE STORY OF A FULFILLED PROPHECY. By Generat H. M. Evans, C.B. This story, related by a distinguished officer who was a participant in many of the exciting events described, gives an authoritative account of one of the most dramatic episodes in the history of the Indian frontier. General Bvans sets down for the first time the remarkable manner in which an ancient prophecy was fulfilled to the very letter by the tragic occurrences connected with the British occupation of the remote Indian State of Manipur. Saal E are all familiar with the skill the WA) Natives of India exhibit in the per- formance of their mysterious con- 9) juring tricks, and we have all heard " stories, more or less based on the very best authority, dealing with their gift of seeing into the future, but the records of the fulfilment of such prophetic utterances have been either vague or unsatisfactorily established. There is, however, one Indian prophecy which has been fulfilled in dramatic fashion. This prophecy was spoken many years—perhaps centuries—ago; in fact, the date of its origin is unknown. It was never committed to writing, but was passed from mouth to mouth, and, even while the events to which it cryptically re- ferred were being enacted, it was being carelessly lisped by children at their play. During the months of March and April, 1891, the newspapers reported the murder of certain British officials at Mani- pur, the capital of the remote border State of that name, and the ultimate capture of the city. The British public, thinking it was only another frontier outbreak, gave only a passing attention to the news, little thinking that an ancient prophecy was being fulfilled in its entirety, and that the words of some un- known and long-for- [* gotten fakir had at last = Here, as nearly as may be given, is the prophecy : The west gate shall be closed and the cast gate shall be opened, The white head shall fall before the dragons, The three Rajahs shall come by the three roads, each with an army, And the kingdom shall fall. Manipur is situate on the remote north-eastern frontier of India. Burma lies to the south and Assam to the west. It is, or rather was, governed by a Maharajah, who owed suzerainty to Great Britain. In 1885 Sir Chandra Kirti Sing, Ba- hadur, K.C.S.L., the reign- ing Prince, died, and Sur Chandra Sing reigned in his stead, being the eldest of eight brothers. ‘These brothers took various offices of State, the next eldest being appointed Jubraj, or heir - appa- trent, while a_ third, named ‘Tekendrajit, be- came commander-in- chief of the. army, or Senaputti. The Maha- rajah was very weak and vacillating, and stood in great fear of the much stronger - minded Sena- putti.. The latter was constantly quarrelling with the Pucca Sena, another of the brothers, and a great favourite with the Maharajah. The whole system of go- vernment was unsatisfac- tory, for, though the eldest was ndminally the head of the State, yet the others considered them- selves almost, if not quite, equal to him, with come true in strange and tragic fashion. THE AUTHOR, GENRRAL H. M. EVANS, C.B. From a Photo, -: the result that family quarrels were of frequent occurrence.

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THE TRAGEDY OF MANIPUR. 147 At length, after one of these disagreements, Zilla Sing, the youngest of the family, consider- ing his amour propre hurt by some act of his eldest brother’s, went to the Senaputti, and together they collected a few men, who, with a great deal of firing, broke into the palace on the night of September 22nd, 1890. The Maharajah fled immediately, accom- panied by the Pucca Sena. Both of them were thoroughly frightened, and made their way to the Residency, just outside the city walls, where they placed themselves in the hands of the Political Agent, Mr. Grimwood. This officer’s escort was too small to attack the palace with success, but he had no objection to the Maharajah fighting for the recovery of his throne if he wished to do so. To tell the truth, however, fighting was the last thing the Maharajah wanted. He stayed about forty-eight hours with the Political Agent, during which time he sent a note to the Jubraj, or heir- apparent, in which he declared his intention of abdicating the throne and going ona pilgrimage. ‘This act of abdication he subsequently tried to revoke, and appealed to the Indian Government to reinstate him. The pilgrimaye he never even started on; it was only a mere blind and never seriously intended. His appeal to the Govern- ment contained a most fantastic account of the recent events and of his past services to the Raj. In the meantime the Jubraj had become Regent, being unable to take the title of Maha- rajah till his succession was approved by the Government, and the Senaputti became Jubraj, or heir-apparent. The decision eventually arrived at by the authorities was that, as the ex-Maharajah Sur Chandra was a miserably weak man, and as his restoration would only lead to further trouble, he should not be restored, but that his brother, Kula Chandra, Jubraj and Regent, should be recognised as Maharajah. The Government, however, could not consent to permit Teken- drajit to remain in the State, where, from his turbulent character, he would always be more or less dangerous, and they therefore decided that he should be deported. The Chief Com- missioner of Assam was accordingly instructéd to visit Manipur himself to make known the decision and orders of the Governor-General in Council, and he was further directed to arrest Tekendrajit and send him away under an escort. This decision was not arrived at until February, 1891. At this time Mr, Grimwood was the Political Agent at Manipur, his house being known as the “ Residency.” ‘The house stood in extensive grounds containing other buildings, notably a hospital and a school. It fronted east, and was surrounded by a mud wall, low on all sides except the east, where it was six or eight feet high. In the centre was the gateway, which was substantially built, with the telegraph otfice on one side and the treasury on the other. The gate opened on to a broad road, on the other side of which was what was called the “Pat,” or palace enclosure, the outer walls of which were nearly a mile long each way. This was protected on three sides by a deep ditch or moat, some twenty feet broad, which was always full of water from the south end to the west gate, and beyond that dry. On the east side the river flowed through the enclosure. On the inner side of the moat was the outer wall. In the middle of the west front was the west gate, a somewhat imposing struc- ture, built of masonry, with a gate-house above it, and furnished with massive wooden doors. Some hundred and fifty yards inside the outer wall was the second wall, about eight feet high, and with a ditch—not a very broad one—on the outside. In the middle of this wall was a gate- house, also built of masonry, and with heavy doors. About four hundred yards beyond this was the actual palace enclosure, on higher ground, and surrounded by a masonry wall. Passing through this, the east gate would be found, which was what we should call a postern gate. ‘This led on to a covered bridge across the river, and so to a road or path to the eastern hills. ‘There were also the north gates in the outer and second walls, leading to the Kohima road, and the south gates, leading to the Langthobal-Thobal-Tummoo road to Upper Burma. Within this triple enclosure were many build- ings. On the north side, between the outer and the second wall, was the residence of the Jubraj —then occupied by ‘Tekendrajit—with all its adjuncts, houses for his family, sheds for his retainers and servants, and temples for his priests. One of these temples was of great size, another was very small, the interior space being about nine feet square. Within the second enclosure, as one entered from the west, were many sheds right and left, and many ponds and tanks full of water. The jail was on the left; on the right was a large guard-house. Here, too, was the Maharajah’s private polo ground. Immediately in front was the Naga or “Snake” Temple, devoted to the worship of the sacred serpent. Guarding the entrance to this temple were two large figures of dragons, between which the pathway led. ‘They were constructed of brick, plastered and whitewashed, and were held in veneration by all Manipuris, both Nagas and Hindus. To the right of the-temple was a large gate-

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148 THE WIDE way with wooden doors, which gave access to a lane running under the inner palace wall. In this lane was the Durbar Hall, in which the Maharajah received the Political Agent or other European visitors, for no European was ever allowed to enter the inner palace enclosure. Passing on, another large found, through which was approached the Golden Temple, a large building, handsomely designed, the roof of which was covered with gold leaf and the doors with brass plates. From here a path led to the entrance to the inner enclosure of all, which contained the palace and thearsenal. In the rear of this enclosure was the east gate before mentioned. ~ This gate, as a tule, was kept shut, but the great west gate, on “THE POLITICAL AGENT WAS $ KD AT THE AVPEAKANCK OF the contrary, was never closed, day or night. This point should be remembered. At this time—February, 1891—Mrs. Grim- wood was with her husband at Manipur. A company of Gurkhas belonging to the 43rd Gurkha Rifles (of which regiment I was then commandant) was stationed, partly at the Residency and partly at Langthobal, a place four miles on the Tummoo road, as escort to the Political Agent. All was quiet; since the rebellion in the preceding September everything had gone well in the State. The Regent, Kula Chandra, supported as he was by the Senaputti, Tekendrajit, had proved himself to be a far more capable ruler than gateway was , A MESS WORLD MAGAZINE. his elder brother had been, and there did not appear to be a cloud on the horizon. It was true that the decision of the Government regarding the succession had not been an- nounced, though anxiously awaited; but Mr. Grimwood evidently anticipated no trouble regarding this. He was on excellent terms with the Regent and with Tekendrajit, both of whom often visited him and Mrs. Grimwood. Lieutenant Siunpson, of the 43rd Gurkhas, came to Manipur in February, having been sent there by myself to inspect the escort. On the day of his arrival the Political Agent was surprised at the appearance of a messenger bearing a tele- gram from the Chief Commissioner, announcing that he proposed to visit Manipur shortly. Mrs. Grimwood, in her book (“My Three Years in Manipur ”), says re- garding this: “Anxiety had natu- rally been rife at Manipur as to whether the exiled Maharajah would be restored, and Tekendrajit and others had never ceased asking my husband his opinion about it. We knew full well that if such a step were contem- plated the fulfilment of it would be a difficult operation, as we were aware of the bitter feeling which existed against the ex- Maharajah and Prince Pucca Sena; and from private sources we had heard that arms, ammunition, and food were being collected by order of ‘Pekendrajit inside the palace.” The Chief Commissioner of Assam, Mr. J. W. Quinton, C.S.1., left Golaghat, on the Brahma- putra River, on the 7th of March, 1891, ea route to Manipur. His own staff consisted of Lieutenant Gurdon, assistant commissioner ; Mr. Cossins, Civil Service, assistant secretary ; and Lieutenant Woods, assistant secretary. The escort consisted of two hundred men of the 42nd Gurkha Rifles and two hundred men of the 44th Gurkha Rifles, all under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Skene, D,S.O. The men,were (armed with, Snider rifles and R BEARING A TELEGRAM.

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THE TRAGEDY carried forty rounds of ammunition in pouch. No reserve ammunition was taken, partly be- cause of the difficulty of transport, and partly because it was known there was a reserve at Manipur itself. At Manipur, as I have already said, there was a full com- pany of the 43rd Gurkha Rifles, under command of native officers and armed with Martini rifles; of this com- pany, a native officer and thirty- three men were at Langthobal. A detachment of two hundred men of the 43rd Gurkha Rifles was also marching from Silchar to Mani- pur under com- mand of Cap- tain Cowley, but this detach- ment was not due to arrive at Mani- pur till the 26th or 27th of March. The real object of the Chief Com- missioner’s visit to Manipur was kept a profound secret. Mr. Quinton appears to have communicated it to Colonel Skene before leaving Golaghat, but forbade him to divulge it. The common impression, both with the escort and at Manipur itself, was that the detachment of the 43rd marching from Silchar was_ taking back the ex-Maharajah, to restore him to the throne. The Chief Commissioner crossed the frontier of Manipur at a place called Maothana, eighteen miles from Kohima, and here Mr. Quinton was met by the Tongal General—an ated man, who occupied a position second only in importance to that of Tekendrajit, and who possessed immense influence in the State. This personage was at the head of a considerable body of the Manipur troops, and stated that he had been sent by the Regent to do honour to the repre- sentative of Government and to escort him in safety to Manipur. ‘ On the morning of the 22nd, when only a few miles from Manipur, Mr. Quinton was met and received by Tekendrajit with a large escort. At OF MANIPUR. 149 the west gate of the city the Regent came out with a large following of Ministers and staff to meet the Chief Commissioner. Mr. Quinton announced to him that he would hold a durbar that day at twelve o’clock, at which he desired the pre- sence of the Regent and of all his brothers who were in Manipur. He then passed “THE REGENT CAME OUT WITH A LARGE FOLLOWING.” on to the Residency, while the Regent re-entered the west gate. Mr. Quinton was the bearer of written orders from the Government of India, and it was necessary that these orders should be translated into the Manipuri language, to be read out at the durbar. For this purpose the head clerk of the Political Agent’s office and his assistants were set to work at once to make the translation. All possible precautions were taken that the orders should not be divulged by these clerks, but there can be little doubt that either correct information had reached the Manipuri Princes, or that they very strongly suspected what these orders were. Meantime, all preparations were made for holding the durbar, and, as the appointed time drew near, a guard of honour of Gurkhas was posted at the steps of the Residency, and a detachment was also under arms in the gardens behind the house. But the orders were lengthy, and the translation was not completed by twelve o'clock, the hour fixed forthe durbar. The Regent however,-arrived \punctually at

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150 THE WIDE the Residency gates. Here he was informed that there would be some slight delay, and was asked to wait. It is very uncertain whether Tekendrajit came with him or not, although the Regent himself, and also Tekendrajit, asserted that he did come, but that, finding they would have to wait a little, he felt too ill to remain in the hot sun, and went back to the palace. About half-past twelve the Regent was asked to enter, and was met by Mr. Grimwood, who at once inquired where Tekendrajit was. The Regent explained that he had gone back because he was very unwell. Mr. Grimwood, leaving the Regent at the foot of the steps, went inside and reported to Mr. Quinton, who at From al THE RESIDENCY AT MANIPUR, once said that the durbar could not be held without the attendance of ‘Tekendrajit. There- upon the Regent sent one of his staff to summon him, and entered the durbar room, where he waited, in company with Mr. Grim- wood and some of the officers of the escort. About half-past two the messenger returned with a message from the Senaputti to say he was too unwell to come. On this being reported to the Chief Commissioner, he sent word to say that he could not see the Regent alone, and that the durbar must be postponed until eight o'clock the next morning. The Regent then went away. Next morning all preparations were again made for the durbar. But no one appeared, and it subsequently transpired that the Regent had written to Mr, Grimwood to say that, as Teken- drajit could not attend owing to illness, he (the Regent) would not come. Mr. Grimwood, accompanied by Lieutenant Simpson, went twice WORLD. MAGAZINE. during the day to Tekendrajit’s house to try and see him ; but he refused to appear, sending out word that he was very ill. In the afternoon, about four o’clock, the Chief Commissioner, giving up all hopes of getting Tekendrajit to come to a durbar at the Residency, sent Mr. Grimwood to the Regent, to com- municate the orders of Government and to demand the surrender of Tekendrajit. Mr. Grimwood was accompanied by Lieutenant Simpson. He met the Regent in the Durbar Hall, and appears to have spent nearly two hours in trying to persuade him to obey the orders of Government, but without avail. He warned the Regent that he could not be recog- nised or installed as Maharajah if he would not comply, but the Regent’s fear of his younger brother carried all before it, and he could not be in- duced to give him up, absolutely refusing to do anything in the matter. Mr. Grimwood there- fore returned to the Residency, but first went once more to the Senaputti’s house, where Tekendra- jit was brought out in a litter to see him. With Mr. Grimwood was his head clerk, who gave evidence later to the effect that he (Mr. Grimwood) explained the situation to the Senaputti, spoke to him as a friend, and urged him to come to the Residency and give himself up. He replied that he could not do so then as he was so ill, but would come when he was better. So Grimwood and Simpson left him. This head clerk also testified that there was a general impression among the people that the British would be attacked if they attempted to arrest Tekendrajit, and that long before the arrival of the Chief Commissioner there was a rumour that he was coming to arrest him—a saying had gone about the country that ‘‘a tiger was to be bagged.” Mr. Grimwood told his wife on his return that Tekendrajit was really unwell, and was suffering from fever; but it is quite possible that he may have been deceived. Lieutenant Simpsonj on hisyreturn to the Resi- dency, reported to Colonel “Skene that there (Photo.

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THE TRAGEDY were some five or six thousand Manipuris and Kuki soldiers assembled in the Pat, and that all the walls were thickly lined with them. All negotiations having failed, Mr. Quinton resolved to try force, and communicated his decision to Colonel Skene, on whom now devolved the duty of arranging all details. So, after dinner that night, Colonel Skene assembled his officers and gave them their orders. Lieu- tenant Brackenbury, with thirty men, was to proceed to the north entrance to the Pat, in the second wall, in order to cut off the escape of Tekendrajit ;, Captain Butcher, with seventy men, was to go to Tekendrijit’s house and arrest him ; the remainder of the force was to be kept in readiness for any eventuality. That night, after dinner at the Residency, there was to have been a Manipuri nautch (or dance) given by the Regent. The performers, however, did not turn up, and Mr. Grimwood sent a messenger to the palace to ask about them. The messenger came back and reported that the west gate was shut, and that he had been told by the guard that no messenger from the Residency was to be admitted. This looked as though the Manipuris meant mischief. - On the morning of the 24th of March, 1891, at 4.45, Lieutenant Brackenbury moved off with his thirty men, and proceeded round the palace walls to the outer north entrance, where he entered the enclosure and went on till he was opposite Tekendrajit’s house. Here he found a low wall with a wicket gate in it, before which he halted and asked for the Senaputti. Almost immediately fire was opened on him from the adjacent buildings, and also from the wall of the palace enclosure. Taken in front and flank he fell back under cover of the river bank. He himself was wounded almost at once in the ankle, and while lying on the ground received five more wounds, all severe. His senior native officer, Subadar (or native captain) Hima Chand, was also mortally wounded at the same time. Meanwhile, Captain Butcher, with his detach- ment, managed to get over the outer wall on the west side, where the moat was dry and the wall somewhat dilapidated, so as to take Teken- drajit’s house in rear. While crossing the wall he was fired at by the Manipur troops from the inner wall of the enclosure. He pushed on, however, and succeeded without much difficulty in capturing the house, inflicting considerable loss on its defenders. But Tekendrajit was not there. It subsequently transpired that during the night he had gone into the Maharajah’s palace, taking with him his wives and children and the gods from his temples. About 6 a.m. Captain Butcher, having been reinforced by a party under Lieutenant Lugard, OF MANIPUR. 151 drove the Manipuris out of the whole of the buildings and established himself in the large temple, from the roof of which he had an extensive view. The Manipuris kept up a heavy rifle fire on him from the wall- of the second palace enclosure, and from a small mound on the other bank of the river, and brought two mountain guns to bear on the temple from the innermost palace enclosure, or citadel. About eleven o'clock Colonel Skene joined Captain Butcher with a hundred men, and gave orders to prepare to assault the second palace wall and the citadel. On inspecting the ammu. nition, however, he found that his men had not enough left to warrant him in attacking what was a very formidable position. He therefore returned to the Residency to confer with the Chief Commissioner, directing Captain Butcher to hold his ground till further orders. Before going to join Captain Butcher, Colonel Skene had ordered Lieutenant Chatterton to seize the west gate, which he did with thirty men, by cross- ing the wall close to the gate and attacking from within. He took the Manipuri guard prisoners and established his party in the gate-house. This was a most important position, for, so long as it was held, the Manipuris did not dare to leave the shelter of the second enclosure, and so could not open fire on the Residency. They brought a mountain gun to the second gate and fired at the west gate, but they could not aim properly and all the shells went over. About one o'clock fire was opened on the Residency from the villages behind it, to the west. Captain Boileau at once took out a party and burnt the villages, but the fire was kept up from the huts in the vicinity and was continued until about four o’clock in the afternoon. Colonel Skene now sent orders to Captain Butcher to evacuate Tekendrajit’s quarters and to concentrate at the Residency. Captain Butcher was delayed in carrying out this order by the necessity for collecting the wounded men and arranging to take them into the Residency hospital. There were about thirteen wounded at this time, including Lieutenant Brackenbury and Subadar Hima Chand. Captain Butcher event- ually returned to the Residency about 4 p.m. Lieutenant Simpson had been detached to the east bank of the river with a small flanking party, and Dr. Calvert, of the Medical Service, had also gone that way to search for wounded men. These two officers and the men with them returned to the Residency about five o’clock. All were now concentrated inside the Residency enclosure. It was nearly dusk, but Captain Butcher’s retirement seems to have set the Manipuris free to turn-their attention to the west gaté, on which they“commenced a fierce

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152 THE WIDE attack, and finally succeeded in driving out the small party of Gurkhas which was holding it. The recovery of this gate enabled the Manipuris to open a heavy fire upon the outer wall of the Pat, which was only just across the road, and was on higher ground than the Residency buildings. They also promptly brought two mountain guns to this wall, embrasures were quickly made, and shells were fired incessantly at the Residency. ‘The hospital, too, was under fire, and Dr. Calvert, with assistance from Lieutenant Lugard and others, was obliged to bring out the “DR. CALVERT WAS OKLIGED TO BRING OUT THE wounded and place them on the ground, under cover of the brick plinth of the hospital build- ing. He wanted to move them into the cellars of the Residency, but the open ground between the house and the hospital was swept with bullets, which rendered the operation im- possible. Lieutenant Brackenbury and Subadar Hima Chand had been taken to the cellars of the house at first, and not to the hospital, and here Mrs. Grimwood, who throughout the day had displayed the greatest coolness and presence of mind, occupied herself with preparing food for the wounded and in nursing Lieutenant Bracken- bury, who was evidently dying. Early in the morning Mr. Quinton had gone to the telegraph office, which was on one side of the Residency gate, to send a message to the Viceroy. While this message was in course of transmission, however, communication was sud- WORLD MAGAZINE. denly interrupted, and it was evident that the wires had been cut. It was discovered after- wards that one of the wily Tekendrajit’s first acts that morning had been to send out men to cut the wires on both the Assam and Burma lines. About seven o'clock in the evening Colonel Skene became aware that ammunition was run- ning short, and he and Mr. Quinton debated the question as to whether it would not be necessary to retire from the Residency altogether and take up a position in some open ground to the west. ‘They decided to discover first if a truce could be arranged. The “Cease fire” was therefore sounded ; this was quickly answered by a Manipuri bugler, and the firing ceased. Mr. Quinton then wrote a letter to the Regent. Mrs. Grimwood in her book gives the text of this letter as follows: “On what conditions will you cease firing on us, and give us time to communicate with the Viceroy and repair the telegraph?” Mr. Grim- wood went outside the Residency gates, shout- ing for a Manipuri to come for the letter, and soon a man came from the west gate and took it. In a short time—about half an hour —a reply came from the Regent, saying that he would cease hostilities if our troops would throw down their arms—in short, surrender unconditionally. It was, of course, impossible for the Chief Commissioner to accept such terms, and-so Mr. Quinton suggested that a conference might be arranged. Mr. Grim- wood appears to have sent a message to Teken- drajit, and to have arranged that he should meet Mr. Quinton on the road, midway between the Residency gate and the west gate of the palace. Mr. Quinton, Mr. Grimwood, Colonel Skene, Mr. Cossins, and Lieutenant Simpson went to the spot indicated. A bugler accompanied them. They went totally unarmed and without any escort. It was full moon that night and quite clear, and they were watched for some time from the Residency gates by Lieutenants, Gurdon and WOUNDED.”

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THE Chatterton, who then went inside to get some food and much-needed rest. Meantime the Chief Commissioner and his party seem to have gone on to the west gate, as no one came to meet them on the road. A crowd of Manipuris promptly came out and surrounded them, but it is not actually known whether Tekendrajit himself met them there or not, all that we know from native officers and others who watched from the Residency gate is that the crowd remained there for some time, when all went inside the gate, which was closed, leaving the road deserted. Mr. Quinton and his companions were seen no more. Thus was the first part of the prophecy fulfilled—‘ Zhe west gate shall be closed.” It is only from Manipuri sources that anything is known as to what happened after the unfortu- nate officials went inside the gate, and from the evidence of native witnesses at the trials of the Regent and the other princes. So far as can be gathered the party was met at the west gate by Prince Angao Senna, and after a long parley were conducted by him to the lane in’ which stood the Dur- bar House. Here they were met by Teken- drajit and the old Tongal General. The Durbar House was found to be locked up, and so a sort of in- formal durbar was held in the lane. Chairs were set, and the Bri- tish officers sat down, but there was a very large crowd of Manipuris in the narrow lane, all of whom were much excited, and the gates behind were closed. It must now have been about ten o'clock. A conversation took place between Mr. Quinton and the Senaputti, which, according to some witnesses, lasted for an hour. ‘Tekendrajit, in his defence at his trial, alleged that after mutual expressions of regret for what had occurred, he told the Chief Commissioner that Vol. xvii,—20, THE WEST GATE AT MASI From a) TRAGEDY FELLOW-UFFICERS PASSED TO THEIR DEATHS. OF MANIPUR. 153 he required the British troops to lay down their arms, and on this condition only would he give them safe conduct to Kohima. He warned the Chief Commissioner that the Manipuri troops were so infuriated as to be quite uncon- trollable. Mr. Quinton absolutely refused to consent to these terms, upon which Tekendrajit and the Tongal Gencral left him, going to what was called the ‘‘ Tope Guard,” a building at the farther end of the lane, where councils were usually held. The crowd of Manipuri soldiers who thronged the lane, seeing their Commander- in-Chief leave the durbar, seem to have taken it for granted that he was abandoning the British officers, and raised a cry of “Kill! Kill!” Directly after this a man in the crowd stabbed Mr. Grimwood in the back with his spear, killing him on the spot. Lieutenant Simpson endeavoured to help Mr. Grimwood, but was himself severely wounded by a spear. Tekendrajit then returned and or- dered the officers to be taken into the Durbar House, the door of which was broken open for the purpose. The - body of the un- fortunate Mr. Grimwood — was left under the steps leading up to the house; the others, with the Gurkha bugler, were hustled into the Durbar House, and sen- tries were placed all round. Shortly after a blacksmith was summoned and ordered to put fetters on the prisoners. His evidence was as dollows : “‘ We went inside to fix the fetters ; a man brought in the fetters and put them in front of the sahibs on the floor. When he put down the fetters the sahibs looked at them and put out, their feet to have them put on. The fetters were put on by order of the durbar (¢e., the council). ‘There were four sahibs and a bugler. I fixed the fetters on the sahibs and on the bugler.” The order was now given for the prisoners to _y be put to déath?°’Who gave’ theSorder is not (Photo.

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154 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “LIEUTENANT SIMPSON ENDEAVOURED TO HELP. MR. GRIMWOOD." accurately known. It was either Tekendrajit or the Tongal General—who appears to have taken matters into his own hands to a great extent—or both of them. The Regent does not seem to have taken any part at all in these proceedings. At any rate, a man came to the Durbar House and announced that the order had been given, and with him came the execu- tioner. Here is the evidence of the executioner : “Tam an executioner by profession. I was sent for on the night of March 24th. I took my daho (sword) and went. We went to the Durbar House. The sentries and I went out with the” sahibs to the ground in front of the dragons. There were lots of men near; they were not shouting. The sahibs were given over to me, one by one, by the sentries who brought them from the bungalow. Four sahibs were given to me to execute, also one bugler. I cut off the heads of all these. Their feet were fettered, their hands were not tied. The sahibs were put with their faces towards the west. I stood on their left side with my face towards the north. I saw the heads buried. I took up the heads myself and put them into the earth. The bodies were taken out at once by ten men and buried in the Naga village. The feet of all were cut off in order to take off the fetters ; the feet of the sahib who died near the Durbar House were not cut off. His head was cut off.” There is no reason to doubt this story. At all events, it is the only description we have of the manner in which these unfortunate English gentle- men and the Gurkha bugler were put to death. I may add that the heads and bodies of the victims were found in the places indicated by the execu- tioner, for I was present when they were exhumed. Tekendrajit, in his defence, put all the blame on the Ton- galGeneral. He asserted that he himself, after the British officers were put in the Durbar House, went round the walls to impress on all the troops that there was to be no more firing. While thus employed two men came to him and informed him that the Tongal General had given orders to have the officers killed. He at once hurried off to the Tongal General, who was at the Tope Guard, and said to him, “ My father, did you give the order to slay the officers ?” “Yes,” answered the old man. Tekendrajit, according to his own account, urged the impropriety of such a dreadful action, but the Tongal General replied, “‘ Have you lost your senses? Do you think there is any way of making it up with the British Government? It is, therefore, better to kill them all.” Teken- drajit, on his own showing, did nothing what- ever to interfere with the carrying out of the orders for the execution. On the contrary, he stated that he was so exhausted that he fell asleep and slept for several hours. And those Manipuris who took part in the dreadful pro- ceedings asserted that the British officers were killed by order of the Tongal General, but in the name of the Senaputti. Thus was another part of the ancient prophecy fulfilled —“ Zhe white head shall fall before the dragons!” We will now return tocthe Residency, The

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THE TRAGEDY OF MANIPUR. officers who had been left there with their men, and also Mrs. Grimwood, took advantage of the truce to get some food and some rest, which all sorely needed. Everything was quiet till midnight. About that hour Captain Boileau and Lieutenant Chatterton went to the gate and looked out to see if there were any signs of the Chief Com- missioner and his party returning. While they were there a Manipuri hailed them from the wall of the Pat across the road, and said something in Manipuri. A prisoner was called out of the guard-room to interpret, and he said that what had been shouted out was that the “ Burra Sahib,” ze., the Chief Commissioner, was not coming back. The two officers, debating * the meaning of this message, came in and shut the gate, and as they did so a heavy fire from the two guns and from rifles all along the wall of the Pat was opened on the Resi- dency at a range of barely two hundred yards. The wall of the Pat was much loftier, and stood on_ higher ground than the Resi- dency, which, in spite of the front wall of the garden, was fully com- manded by the enemy. It was soon evident to everybody that Mr. Quinton and his party had been treacherously captured. The first idea was, of course, to make an effort to rescue them, but it was at once found that the ammu- nition was running very low, and the Manipuris had as- sumed the offensive so strongly that it was appa- rently impossible even to hold the Residency. Finally, after much consultation, it was deter- mined to retreat towards Cachar, in order to meet the detachment of the 43rd Gurkhas known to be marching up under Captain Cowley. ‘There were Mrs. Grimwood, some seventeen wounded officers and men, and a large number of unarmed followers to be looked after, and it seemed essential to endeavour to place all these in safety, if possible. So the order was reluc- tantly given to withdraw from the Residency enclosure by the west side. The wounded, all of whom had been moved to the cellars during = 155 the truce, were brought out and placed in dhooltes, ox litters. At two o’clock on the morning of the 25th March the retreat commenced, under command of Captain Boileau. The column marched down the Cachar road, and soon after leaving, on looking back, it was seen that the Residency was in flames. It would seem that as soon as the Manipuris became aware that the British force had retired they rushed in, looted all they could lay their hands on, and then set fire to the buildings. The retreat continued along the Cachar road for eight or ten miles. he _column was fired on here and there, but no determined attack was made on casualties occurred. Next morning, the 26th, they continued the march, and at eight o’clock that morning came out again on the Cachar road. it and no Here they THE SACRED DRAGONS IN FKONT OF WHICH THE UNFORTUNATE BRITISH OFFICERS WERE EXECUTED. From a Photo. were soon attacked by a body of Manipuris, concealed in the forest, and also found the road blocked by a stockade held by the enemy. This was promptly rushed by a few men, under Lieutenant Lugard, and the enemy were driven off. A few yards farther on, to their great joy, they were met by Captain Cowley and_ his detachment, and were in safety. It was now anxiously debated by the senior officers as to whether they should march back into Manipur and attempt a. rescue of those whom they supposed to be prisoners. This, however, was found>to, be impossible—chiefly owing to want-of food! Captain Cowley had but one day’s supplies with him for his two hundred

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156 From al men, as he had expected to reach Manipur in the ordinary course on the 27th. Ammunition was also lacking for the Snider rifles of the men of the 42nd and 44th; and, lastly, it was con- sidered that an advance on Manipur would probably be the signal for the massacre of the captured British officers. It was therefore reluctantly decided to retreat to Cachar, which was reached in safety on March 31st. It may be remembered that there was a small detachment of the 43rd Gurkhas at Lfhgthobal, a place four miles from Manipur on the Burma road. Here there had formerly been a canton- ment, and a large quantity of Government stores was lying there, together with a small quantity of Martini ammunition and about twenty transport ponies. The place was in charge of the native officer commanding the detachment, Jemadar (Lieutenant) — Birbul. Early in the morning of the 24th March he heard firing in the town of Manipur, and at once took all precautions against attack, making a breastwork of bags of rations, transport saddles, and anything else available, and pulling down all unoccupied houses and sheds to clear his front. He remained on the alert all day, and made two or three attempts to communicate with the Residency, but his messengers could not get through. Several Hindustani traders came to him for protection during the day, and all told him that severe fighting was going on in the town. ‘The sound of firing continued all day till about eight o'clock at night, when it ceased, but began again at THE RUINS OF THE RESIDENCY AFTER DESIKUCHIUN BY 1ME MANIPUKIS. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. midnight, and about two orthree © o’clock in the morning of the 25th he saw the light of a confla- gration. About dawn he was at- tacked by a num- ber of Manipuris, but a couple of volleys were enough to drive them off. Two Gurkha sepoys of the 43rd, who had escaped from the Residency, joined him at dawn and told him what had happened there, whereupon — Bir- bul decided to retreat to Tummoo, on the Burma frontier. He accordingly loaded up his ponies and some coolies (porters) whom he had with him, with two days’ rations and as much of the men's kits as he could take. He distributed the spare ammunition amongst the men, gave all his coolies bamboo spears, and ordered them to slope them on their shoulders to make the men look as much like soldiers as possible. He told them all to be of good heart, and that he would take them safe to ‘Tummoo. By this time large parties of the enemy had assembled behind and began to follow him up, but he easily dispersed them with a few shots, and was not molested until he approached the village of Thobal, ten miles distant. Here he was attacked both in front and rear, and a bridge which had to be crossed was found to be partially broken down. Birbul seized the bridge, kept the enemy at bay with volleys, repaired the bridge so as to get all his convoy across, and marched on. The enemy hovered round him all day, but did no damage. He halted at midnight, having covered some thirty miles. Before dawn he was once more on the move, harassed by the enemy, and lost one transport driver killed, while another was wounded. Moving on again, he was fired on by a village of Nagas, and accordingly attacked and burned it. Halting at midnight and marching at dawn, he arrived about eight o’clock at Tummoo, where he found Lieutenant C. Grant with a detachment of the 12th Burma Regiment which was quartered there,(and, reported to him all that had happened. C (Photo.

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THE TRAGEDY OF MANIPUR. 157 Lieutenant Grant at once telegraphed to the authorities in Burma, and that night received orders to do what he could to rescue the Chief Commissioner and all who were supposed to be prisoners at Manipur. Accordingly he started on the morning of the 28th with fifty men of his own detachment (Sikhs) and the thirty Gurkhas of the 43rd who had come with Jemadar Birbul. He encountered and defeated two bodies of the enemy on the 29th, without any loss on his side, and neared Thobal at 7 a.m. on the 31st the prisoners were delivered up to him, or unless hostages for their safety were placed in his hands; and an interchange of messages between him and the Manipuris went on for four days without any result. To impress the enemy Grant had given himself out to be Colonel Howlett, who commanded his regiment. He was fully believed to be the colonel, for the Regent about this time sent a message through Kohima to the Viceroy, saying, “Peace now restored, but one Colonel Howlett from Tummoo, of March, meeting but slight resistance until within three hundred yards of the river, which was there six feet deep and fifty yards broad. The bridge was burnt through and impassable, and he was greeted with a hot fire from walls and trenches on the other side. Dashing through the water, however, he at once attacked with his men, driving the Manipuris—some hundreds in number —right away. He now pro- ceeded to establish himself in the posi- tion he had captured, for he found he had expended half his ammunition and three of his six days’ rations, and so could not hope to reach Manipur itself, but must be content to remain till assistance came from Burma. Meantime the Manipuris were reinforced, and also brought up two guns, with which they tried to shell Grant out of his post. Not only did he and his men repel all attacks, however, but they silenced one gun altogether and forced the other to retreat. The next day the Manipuris sent a flag of truce with a letter signed by some native prisoners in the hands of the Regent, imploring Grant to retire, and saying that if he advanced the prisoners would be killed; if he retired the Regent would release them and send them to Cachar. There were fifty Gurkha sepoys and fifty-eight civil prisoners. Grant replied that he would not move unless “WE AT ONCE ATTACKED WITH HIS MEN. stationed at thirteenth mile, is doing oppression in the neighbourhood.” As the Manipuris could obtain no concession whatever from Grant, they attacked him again at dawn of the 6th April with guns and rifle fire, and kept it up for thirteen hours till nightfall, when they retired, having been altogether unsuccessful, and having lost many killed and wounded, whereas Grant’s only casualty was one man wounded. The 7th passed quietly, and on the 8th a messenger from the Burma side brought a message from Captain Presgrave with orders for Grant to retire. He had hoped for reinforcement, so as to be able to push on, and was bitterly disappointed ; but the order was peremptory, and he had no choice. He was told) that, Captain) Presgrive was moving

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158 THE WIDE WORLD towards him with a strong detachment. So at seven-thirty that evening he marched in pouring rain and pitch darkness, and at two o’clock the next morning he met Presgrave and his detach- ment, and together they returned to Pallel, a place about thirty miles from Thobal. For this service Lieutenant Grant received the Victoria Cross and a brevet majority. Jemadar Birbul received the “Order of British India,” a very high distinction reserved for native ofticers, and every non-commissioned officer and sepoy received the “Order of Merit,” which is the Indian equivalent to the Victoria Cross. The tragedy was not yet played out. Mr. Melville, Superintendent of Telegraphs, was at Manipur on March 22nd, but was obliged to leave on the 23rd, on which date he travelled to Sengmai, a distance of ten miles, accompanicd by a telegraph signaller named O'Brien. On the 24th he halted at a place called Myangkong. That evening he became aware that something was wrong : he observed that the telegraph wire was broken on both sides and saw bodies of armed Manipuris assembling near the rest-house where he and O’Brien had put up. ‘The two men seem to have sat down to their dinner about seven o'clock that evening, and while they were eating some Manipuris came up to the window, through which they fired volleys at the unfortunate Englishmen, killing them at once. Their bodies were afterwards found some distance away from the village where they were murdered. We now come to the punitive measures— which, needless to say, the Government were not slow to take. No time was lost in organizing three strong columns to march simultaneously on Manipur, from Burma, from Assam, and from Cachar. ‘The troops were detailed and all orders given on the 31st March. ‘The Burma column was composed of three hundred and twenty British troops, seven hundred and fifty native troops, and two guns, under General Graham ; the Cachar column, one thousand five hundred native troops and some Light Horse Volunteers, under Colonel Rennick ; the Assam column, one thousand two hundred native troops and three guns, under General Collet. I was with the Assam column, in command of my regiment, the 43rd Gurkha Rifles. The Assam and Cachar columns met with little opposition on the march to Manipur, but the Burma column had a sharp engagement near Pallel on the 25th April. ‘The Manipuri troops, to the number of about a thousand, were discovered in an earthwork. A party of the 4th Gurkhas was sent to close their line of retreat, while General Graham attacked them with three hundred and fifty men, covered by MAGAZINE. the fire of the guns. After a stiff hand-to-hand fight the earthwork was captured. The enemy defended it with great stubbornness, leaving a hundred and twenty-eight killed behind, and losing many more in the pursuit by mounted infantry. The casualties on our side were two killed and twelve wounded. Among the wounded, curiously enough, were Lieutenant Grant and Jemadar Birbul. There was no more opposition to the advance on Manipur. On the night of the 26th of April, from our camp at Sengmai (with the Assam column), we had seen a great conflagration and heard loud explosions, but could get no infor- mation till the next morning, when we learned that the Regent, his brothers, and his council, including the Tongal General, had all fled through the east gate to the hills, after having set fire to the palace and to all the buildings in the innermost enclosure, or citadel. ‘Their flight fulfilled another phrase of the prophecy — “ The east gate” (generally, it will be remem- bered, kept closed) “ shal be opened.” On the morning of the 27th it poured with rain as we marched the last ten miles, and the road was so slippery that it was difficult to keep up a proper pace. It was a very weary march, and all of us were sorely disappointed to know that there would be no fight. The orders were for all three columns to enter Manipur at ten o’clock on the morning of the 27th, and as the Assam column marched in at that hour from the north the Burma column entered from the south ; but we found that the Cachar column, through some misunderstanding, had marched in at seven o’clock from the west. ‘Thus was yet another portion of the prophecy fulfilled—* Zhe three Kajahs shall come by the three roads, each with an army.” ‘The Pat was found deserted ; there was not a single Manipuri in it, but the inhabitants of the town outside the Pat had, for the most part, remained in their houses. General Collet was now in command of the whole force, and his first care was to take measures to find out where the princes and the ‘Tongal General had fled to and capture them. Proclamations were issued offering large rewards for their capture ; and the mounted infantry were sent off into the hills in pursuit of them. They found many traces of their flight, but could not come up with them. On the 28th April the heads and bodies of the murdered Chief Commissioner and the other victims were exhumed, and re-buried in a large grave which had been dug in the garden of the Residency, and on the 30th a solemn military funeral ceremony was held. On returning from this sad ceremony General

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THE TRAGEDY OF MANIPUR. 159 Collet ordered the two sacred dragons, before which the executions had taken place, to be blown up, and they were accordingly destroyed that same afternoon. On the 2nd May I moved my men into the houses and sheds in the Senaputti’s quarter, and I myself took possession of Tekendrajit’s house, where I lived for nearly a year. Meanwhile the pursuit of the fugitive princes continued with vigour, with the result that on the 7th of May the Tongal General gave himself up, after being hotly hunted from place to place for a week, On the Sth the Regent was captured and brought in by Manipuris a few days after. Prince Angao Sena was also cap- tured, together with several of the Mini- sters and councillors of the State. All were placed in military custody and carefully guarded. ‘The orders of Government were that the Regent and_ his brother were to be tried by a special commission of three officers. Tekendrajit, however, who was looked upon as the ringleader and prin- cipal offender, was still at large, and the trials of the other princes were deferred until he also should be a_ prisoner. He was hunted for in all directions, but at last managed to return to Manipur itself. Here he was tracked down by Lieutenant Clay and a detachment of the 43rd Gurkhas, but he eluded them, evidently flying from house to house. At last, on the 23rd of May, he was captured by Kalendro Singh, an officer of military police, assisted by only one man, a private of the same force. They had gone out to try and discover where the fugitive was concealed, and succeeded in locating him in a house some six miles from the Pat. Tekendrajit detected them and ran, but was caught by ,Kalendro Singh, who cap- tured and secured him after a severe struggle. “ KACENDRO SINGH CAPTURED AND SECURED HIM AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE.” The two men took him at once to General Collet. I was sitting at dinner in my regimental mess that evening, when a note from the General was brought to me: “Herewith Tekendrajit, Senaputti; I make him over to you, and hold you personally responsible for his safe custody.” I went out at once to receive my prisoner, and found him to be a tall, stout, fine-looking man, strongly built. He was leg-ironed and hand- cuffed. I at once put him under a guard and lodged him in his own little temple, which was close to his house, where I was living. I was using this temple as a maga- zine, and the walls were lined with boxes of Martini ammunition, but there was sufficient space left in the centre for my prisoner to lie down, I ordered the men to attach a rope to each of his ankles, and the other ends of the ropes to be held day and night by a Gurkha sentry. The custody of this dangerous man was a source of great ~ anxiety to me, as I had been warned that not only might at- tempts at rescue be made, but that he might not im- probably try to poison him- self. He pro- fessed to be a strict Brah- min, and so, with the con- sent of the Political Officer, I had his own Brahmin servant brought to cook for him, and arranged for his daily food of rice and vegetables to be bought from his own people; but I had this food brought to me every morning and thoroughly examined in my presence, to make sure that nothing was con- cealed in it. Meantime the whole State quieted down ; the daily market was resumed and the country people brought in supplies freely. Major Maxwell, the Political Agent, ruled with a firm hand and administered justice daily in his

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160 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. court. During this month, May, 1891, the man who had speared and killed Mr. Grimwood was caught, tried by the Political Agent, and sen- tenced to be hanged, which sentence was duly carried into execution. ‘The Tongal General was also tricd by Major Maxwell and sen- tenced to death, subject to confirmation by the Governor-General in Council; and the State trials of the Regent; Tekendrajit, and Angao Sena took place in June before a special court, composed of two military officers and one civil officer, on charges of waging war against the Queen-Empress, and of abetting the murder of the British officers and of the Gurkha bugler. They were found guilty, the Regent and Angao Sena of waging war only ; Tekendrajit of both charges. All were sentenced to death, subject to confirmation by the Governor-General in Council. ‘This sentence, in the case of the Regent apd his younger brother, Angao Sena, was commuted to transportation for life; but this mercy was not extended to Tekendrajit or to the ‘Tongal General, the two who had, without any doubt, been primarily responsible for the outbreak and for the murders. It was not till August 11th, however, that the order came from Government confirming the sentence of death on these two and commuting the other sentences. On that morning Major Maxwell came to me and we went together to Tekendrajit, to whom Maxwell announced in Hindustani that he would be hung on the 13th. ‘Tekendrajit bowed his head gravely, but said nothing, I now deemed it advisable to keep a stricter watch on my prisoner, for fear of suicide. I sent away his own servants and arranged for his food to be cooked by a Brahmin sepoy of my regi- ment, but Tekendrajit refused to eat anything thus cooked or to drink water brought by any stranger, and from the morning of the rith till his death on the 13th neither bite nor sup passed his lips. On the morning of the 13th I went to him and asked him, through an interpreter, if there was any one of his family whom he wished to see. F He replied that he wished to see his wife. I wrote a note to Major Maxwell: “ ‘Tekendrajit has expressed a wish to see his wife. Kindly have her sent here.” Maxwell replied laconic- ally: “ My dear colonel, here are six wives.” On looking out I saw a procession of many women. On telling Tekendrajit that I would allow him to interview them one at a time, he refused to see any of them, butasked for a sister of one of the wives. That afternoon, the 13th of August, Teken- drajit, Commander-in-Chief of Manipur, and the Tongal General were most justly hanged in the presence of a huge concourse of Manipuris and detachments of all the troops in garrison under my command, ‘ So ended the tragedy of Manipur, fulfilling to the very letter the old prophecy, for, owing to its rebellion, the State was forfeited to the Queen-Empress, thus verifying the last line of the saying—“ And the kingdom shall fall.” After all was quiet at Manipur the Govern- ment of India announced that the Queen- Empress did not desire to annex Manipur, and would restore it to the dynasty and people of Manipur, but that the new ruler should have the title of ‘ Rajah” only, and not the more honourable one of “ Maharajah.” The Govern- ment instructed the Political Agent to find a scion of the Royal family of Manipur who was an infant, as it was very desirable in the interests of peace that there should be a long minority. ‘The past Royal families had all been very much married, and there were numerous families in the State who could claim to be allied by blood to the Royal house. Majof Maxwell, after many careful inquiries, discovered a family very nearly related to the Maharajah. ‘They were poor people, the father being little better than a labourer, and there were, I think, six sons. One fine morning Major Maxwell, attended by an orderly, went into the town to the hut of this poor man. He had kept his errand secret, or thought he had. On arriving at the house he demanded to see the man’s children. “Certainly,” said the father. ‘ Here are my five sons.” He produced them all, clean and in well-scoured clothes, by which it would seem that he had got wind of the Political Agent’s errand. ‘These boys, however, were of ages from ten or twelve upwards, and Major Maxwell, looking at them, said, “No! I want to see your youngest son.” “Oh!” said the man, “you want the baby. Tl send for him.” Soon a dirty, naked child of four or five years was brought in. “That's the one,” said Maxwell, decisively. “YThat’s the Rajah of Manipur. Here!” he continued, producing a cake of Pears’ soap from his pocket, “take this and wash him well, and bring him to me at once.” And in this curious manner was the future ruler of the State selected. A few days after the fortunate child was brought to see me. He was clothed in purple and fine linen and quite clean. He is now the ruling Rajah of Manipur.

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Illustrations from Photographs supplied by George Grantham Bain, To celebrate an anniversary the owners of the 101 Ranch at Bliss, Oklahoma—the largest of its kind in the world—recently entertained over forty thousand people with what will probably prove to be the last buffalo hunt ever held in the United States. In this article Mr. Bain describes and illustrates the unique function, and gives much interesting information concerning the all-but-extinct buffalo. my) OWN in Oklahoma Territory, U.S.A., a) near Bliss, lies the largest ranch in WwW the world, and it has recently “ pulled LESS Za) off” the biggest Wild West enter- = tainment ever given. The “ror Ranch,” as it is called, is not only the largest, but is in many ways the most wonderful of its kind. Even down in the South-West the “ Miller Boys,” as the owners of the 1o1 Ranch are familiarly called, bear away the palm for doing things on a large scale. On the occasion I am about to describe they entertained fifteen hundred editors from all parts of the States with what will probably prove to be the last buffalo hunt on record, and gave a great spectacular exhibition and feast of buffalo meat to over forty thousand people. A buffalo hunt! The first for nearly a quarter of a century. The invitation to witness it had a curious fascination for those to whom buffalo were only a name or a zoological exhibit. Every one of them had read at some time, perhaps in the stories of his youth, of the sport which drew hundreds of men to the plains—the sport which Vol. xvii. —21. made Indian and white man one in the pleasures of the chase. The day when the white man hunted the buffalo for sport in Colorado and Montana is a very recent period in the history of the American buffalo. For, a century or two ago, these great beasts ranged over what is now the western part of New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, the Carolinas—as far west as the Sierra Nevada range and as far south as Northern Mexico. A good-natured beast was the buffalo—not unlike domestic cattle in its slowness to anger, with all the fierceness of a steer at bay when aroused. In huge herds it wandered at will, not migrating like the birds, but seemingly following the inclination of the moment ; so that one day the shaggy heads were thick on the range and the next day it was bare of them. The buffalo was regarded by the Indians almost as sacred. As we feel grateful to one who supplies us with food, so the Indian felt gratitude amounting almost to worship towards the animal which supplied him not only with food, but with most of the other necessities of

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162 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, From al A GENEKAL VIEW OF THE KANGE WHERE THE MU life. Of the hide he made his tent, his spear- proof shield, his moccasins ; of the sinews, his bow-string and his thread ; of the hair, the stuff- ing for his saddle ; of the bones, his implements of labour; of the horns, his spoon or ladle or cup. He even covered boats with the hide—in fact, there was no primal need of the red man which the buffalo did not supply. From a) In the older days a buffalo hunt was a solemn ceremonial among the Indians, One of their number acted as a lure to the beasts, and while others ranged themselves in two concealed con- verging lines the leader went out—wearing, NT TO ONE OF THE INDIAN VISITORS, WITH HIS SQUAW AND WIGWAM. K PLACK, SHOWING THE CAMP OF ‘THE COWBOYS. \Pheto, perhaps, a buffalo skin over his head—and by curious antics attracted the attention of the herd. When one or two of them started towards him to examine him he retreated, the beasts following, and the whole herd falling in behind. As the column of buffalo entered the unmarked trap the Indians on each side of it made demonstrations to frighten them and [PAote, quicken their pace. The trap led to an open space, where the women and children suddenly appeared, forming a circle around the now thoroughly frightened beasts, waving sticks at them and shouting. Seeking a means of escape,

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THE LAST BUFFALO HUNT. HERE IS THE GRAND STAND AND ENCLOSURE FROM WHICH OVER FORTY THOUSAND PEOPLE WITNESSED THE HUNT. the buffalo ran round and round the circle, while the men of the tribe picked them off one by one, till at length all had been killed. Then they were skinned, and all that was useful of their carcasses was carried to the village. Usually the battue was arranged on the edge of a cliff, so that any animals which escaped the cordon would fall to destruction. It needed to be a very high and steep cliff, for the buffalo’s foot is almost as sure as that of a Rocky Mountain goat. Not only can he go down steep descents, dropping from shelf to shelf, but he can climb an ascent much too steep for man. The Indians hunted the buffalo with bow and arrow. ‘Then came the white man with his powder and bul- lets, riding a horse. It had to be a pretty fast horse to escape the en- raged buffalo if it were only wounded, because a buffalo at bay is not only fierce but swift; this is especially true of the cows, = THE FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEF GERONIMO, WHO WAS SPFCIALUY From a} From a Photo. INVITED TO THE FESTIVAL, {PAate. which are lighter and more active than the bulls. Next came the railroad, and with it swarms of amateur sportsmen seek- ing the novelty of the vuffalo hunt. It is re- corded that a director of one of the Pacific railroads who had never been on norseback pursued a herd of buffalo in an ambu- ance from one of the army posts, and thi$ inci- dent almost finds a parallel in the last of the buffalo hunts, for the old bull who fell to a bullet on’ the 1o1 Ranch, near Bliss, Okla- noma, last summer was shot from an automobile ! It was to celebrate the anniversary of the big ranch that the — three orothers whoown it—J.C., J. L., and George L. Miller —invited several thousand guests from all parts of the United States to visit them and to witness a ouffalo hunt. The invita- tion became a matter of nublic notice when a well- known artist, living in New York, wrote a furious letter to the President protesting against the kill-

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164 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) ing of the buffalo. Before any action could be taken, however, the buffalo hunt was held, but the Miller Brothers assured the indignant friends of the bison that the animal sacrificed was an old bull and quite ready for slaughter. The Millers arranged their buffalo hunt as a spectacle, having constructed a stand for the spectators. It is estimated that forty thousand persons were on the grounds and partook of the dinner of buffalo meat, though if one old bull buffalo supplied food for forty thousand men and women that day, something like a miracle must have taken place. The land laid out for the buffalo hunt was about forty acres in extent. Seven tiers of seats were filled with interested spectators. In the foreground were gathered the picturesque cow- boys of the range, many of whom have visited the East and know the ways of its civilization. With them was a group of befeathered Indians, headed by that famous old murderer, Geronimo. There is no more picturesque figure in the life of the West today than this Indian, eighty years old, whose life is one long record of murder and rapine, committed against the white THE MILLER BROTHERS HERD OF BUFFALO, FROM WHICH THE VICTIM WAS SELECTED. (Photo. settlers of the plains. Geronimo is a Govern- ment prisoner, and has been for many years. He was a “bad Indian” half a century ago, and he is not regarded as any better now, for wherever he goes he is attended by an armed soldier. He has petitioned the President several times during recent years to be permitted to spend his old age in freedom. But there is not much sentiment wasted on Geronimo ; his character is not one to invite it. The Miller Brothers possess a herd of buffalo, and the one selected for the chase was a big bull with a fine shaggy head. Chased by a band of cowboys, Indians, and by some of the ranchers’ guests, it made off across the prairie, celebrating for the moment its new- found freedom. But soon he came within range of his pursuers, and a bullet from one of them who rode in an automobile brought him to the ground. It was quite appropriate. that the most modern means of conveyance should have been the vehicle of the extinction of perhaps the last of the buffalo that will ever be shot, for the public feeling that was aroused by the protests to the President will probably From a) THE BEGINNING OF THE HUNT. (Photo.

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THE LAST BUFFALO HUNT. 165 prevent the repetition of these exhibitions. The buffalo herd at the Miller ranch is of comparatively recent origin. Mr. Miller bought his buffalo in Montana in April, 1905, and brought thirty-two of them to his ranch. Thirty- two buffalo is a good percentage of the entire number known to exist at the present time. Where, twenty-five years ago, the plains swarmed with fabulous numbers of the beasts, to-day it is probable that fewer than a thousand exist. Most of these are in captivity, but there is a herd in the Yellowstone Park the numbers of which can only be estimated, but which is supposed to be increasing naturally. I have seen one estimate which gave this herd as four or five hundred From aj strong, and another which put the total at fewer than a hundred. All this is speculative, how- ever, as the buffalo live in the wild, mountainous part of the park, which is never visited except by the rangers. From time to time these men bring in reports of having seen some of the buffalo ; but even they could not form any fair estimate of their numbers. The next largest herd to that in the Yellow- stone a few years ago was the herd of a hundred and fifty owned by C. J. Jones, of Garden City, Kansas. He was known for many years as “ Buffalo Jones,” because of his interest in pre- serving the buffalo and breeding them with other cattle. Another owner is Michael Pablo, a full-blooded Indian, of Flathead Agency, Montana, who held at one time more than two hundred. The Good Night Ranch, at Good Night, Texas, has between forty and fifty ; Major G. W. Lillie, of Pawnee, Oklahoma, has fifty- five; and James Philip, of Fort Pierre, South GERONIMO SKINNING THE DEAD UUFFALO AFTER THE CHASE~ FULL WAR-PAINT. Dakota, has about seventy-five. Then there is a small herd in New Hampshire, owned by the Austin Corbin estate. In the Bronx Zoological Garden, New York City, there are about twenty- five, belonging to the herd of the late W. C. Whitney. Five other representatives of this herd are scattered in the East. Major Lillie, a leading authority, estimates that there are from six to seven hundred buffalo at large near Great Slave Lake, in Athabasca, Canada; while another writer, Hamlin Russell, who travelled through Canada a few years ago, reported that practically all the buffalo had been killed, and that their whiten- ing bones were being gathered by the Indians for sale to Eastern sugar refineries. The 3 e+ IND WILL BE SEEN MANY OTHEK NOTARLE INDIAN CHIFES IN (Photo. Mounted Police of Canada told Mr. Russell that the clearing out of the buffalo was a good thing, for so long as the Indians had meat it had been impossible to control them. The extermination of the buffalo began with the extension of the railroads. At that time a buffalo overcoat was considered almost a neces- sity by those living in the North-West, and in St. Paul one could buy such a coat for ten dolfars. To-day a buffalo robe is worth from two hundred to three hundred dollars. It was the pitiful sum of one dollar fifty cents to four dollars each paid for their hides which tempted men to kill off the buffalo to their virtual extermination. In 1870 the Pacific Railroad had difficulty in Operating its trains because of the enormous herds of buffalo which crossed their tracks. At first the engineers tried charging these herds ; but derailed and,crippled_engines warned them that thecbuffalo were not:to\be brushed off the

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166 THE track in this reckless fashion. After that the railroad trains were held up, and passengers sometimes watched for two and three hours the enormous herds crossing the lines. They were quite inoffensive and, being unusually stupid beasts, were not at all frightened at the appreach of man. It was this stupidity which added the element of certainty to their extinction. Other animals when hunted grow wary of man and of the sound of his gun, but the buffalo never associated the presence of man or the gun’s report with danger, and the hunter could easily follow a small herd, killing them off one by one until he had shot them all. This meant that a good hunter could kill from thirty to seventy- five buffalo a day. At the rate paid for hides this meant a very large income, the promise of which drew thousands of men to the plains, and during the years 1872-73-74 millions of the animals were killed. In 1876 eighty thousand hides were shipped to the East from Fort Benton; in 1884 none was shipped. The From a) year 1883 saw the virtual extinction of the buffalo. As the hunters followed the lines of the rail- road it was natural that the southern herds should be exterminated first. They made their last stand in Texas, where, scattered over sparsely-settled territory in greatly diminished THE VILLAGE OF THE INDIAN CHIEFS WHO ATTENDED THE HUNT. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. numbers, they offered little temptation to the professional hunter. Meantime the northern railroads were being pushed through, and the herds there were quickly attacked and exter- minated. In 1883 the last great herd of buffalo, estimated at eighty thousand, crossed the Yellowstone River, going north, and it is thought that they perished of hardship and disease. At all events, they never came back, and they have never been heard of since. Efforts have been made from time to time to interest the Government in the preservation of the buffalo, and during the coming session of Congress a proposition will be made for the Government to buy up all the buffalo in exist- ence and establish them on a public reservation, where experiments in breeding may be carried on. The Millers themselves have some idea of breeding buffalo direct and making their invest- ment profitable, and others have tried cross- breeding with various kinds of cattle. This is not a new experiment, for a century ago, in [Photo. Kentucky, efforts were made in this direc- tion. The result, in recent years, has been called a ‘‘cattaloe.” Its development may prove valuable, because the hybrid is big of frame and can therefore carry plenty of meat, while it has all the toughness and strength of the buffalo. [We shall publish next month an account of the extraordinary sequel to the buffalo hunt here. described—an occurrence unprecedented even in the annals of the West.]

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The New Hand at the Creek. EXPERIENCES OF A “ TENDERFOOT” ON THE WEST Coast OF AFRICA. By H. HarGREAvEs. An account of the tribulations that befell a young Englishman who answered a specious advertisement offering attractive employment. He accepted the post and then found himself condemned to years of misery on the deadly Niger coast—the “ White Man’s Grave.” How his rascally employers held him to his contract, and how he was finally able to turn the tables upon them, is amusingly told in the story. Wanted, young man, 18 to 25, as book-keeper in West African factory. A few hours’ work a day in pleasant surroundings ; unlimited shooting and fishing, and fine tropic scenery, with a boat and crew at his disposal. Free quarters; salary to commence £70, with chance of rapid promotion. N these or similar words ran an advertisement which appeared a few years ago in several London newspapers. At first glance the opportunity seemed an eminently desirable one for a youthful Briton seeking experience in a strange land, and so it appeared to a young gentleman in London named Henry Stirling, who had a great desire to see the world and, incidentally, earn a living. He promptly made application for the vacancy, addressing his letter to the firm mentioned at the foot of the advertisement. This quickly brought him a reply requesting him to favour the writers with an early ‘call. This he accordingly did, and was received most courteously. After a brief exchange of civilities and information, he was told, to his huge delight, that he might have the appointment in question. A contract was then produced embodying the salient points set forth in the advertisement, and binding the applicant to a service of three years’ duration. Stirling, pleased with his success, at once affixed his signature to this document with a light heart. If he could have looked into the future, how- ever, he would probably even then have gone back upon what was destined to be a bitter bargain. Young Stirling was of an enterprising turn of mind, lusty of build, and in the pink of health, having spent some time in the Army. In the eyes of the West African traders he was undoubtedly an ideal candidate for the favour of their em- ployment. ‘This same strength and health did, in fact, subsequently stand him in good stead at a critical period of his life. Unfortunately for him he was quite ignorant, or but very vaguely enlightened, as to the deadly climate of the West Coast of Africa, or the nature of exist- ence at a trading post thereon. He was young, impetuous, and so blindly infatuated with the rosy prospect which the future seemed to offer that he failed to make any proper inquiries con- cerning the business he was embarking upon. He was given a date for sailing; then he packed up his kit and embarked with a mind full of pleasurable anticipation. He had not been long at sea before he had confided much of his business to some of his fellow-passengers, among whom were many who had an intimate acquaintance with the West Coast of Africa. These veterans at first looked askance at young Stirling, regarding his enthusiasm with a grim smile on their fever-drawn faces. [ater they volunteered much useful information and warned the youngster that he had a very perilous life in front of him. But the infatuated aspirant for African experience paid little heed to these words of wisdom ; he felt quite satisfied in his own mind that these men were merely trying to “put up” a big joke at his expense. He was quite prepared to believe, he said, that the West Coast of Africa was not exactly a health resort ; but then a young fellow seeking his fortune abroad must expect to rough it for a time. Thereafter the pessimists left him alone. In due course the steamer approached her destination. It was the fall of the day, the heat was stifling, and the sun was sinking amid blood- red clouds. The coast of the Niger country is indented by a number of creeks, upon which are established a series of trading stations, usually consisting of a collection of wooden buildings built on piles. As the vessel approached the coast Stirling leaned over the rail, surveying his future home with the utmost interest. ‘hrough his glass he made out several groups of wooden buildings, which stood out prominently against the deep green of the bush behind. The outlook was not by any means invigorating, for above the ubiquitous palms and mango clumps there hovered a ghostly vapour, and the jungle looked dark, forbidding, and impenetrable. The very air palpitated with the intense heat of the declining day, and the calm sea wore the appearance of oil. The young Briton began to regard the scene with a somewhat chastened expression. His destination was one of these sweltering creeks, where he had gaily contracted to spend three years of his life. He was gasp- ing with the heat and his body was drenched with a copious perspiration. His opinion of

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168 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the situation found vent in a_half-muttered exclamation :— “Well, it zs a rummy place!” He was destined, before his tribulations were over, to admit that it was even “rummier” still! With a resigned expression on his face, how- ever, he proceeded to look after his baggage, as the steamer would soon be putting him ashore. Eventually the vessel slowed down, and stopped opposite one of the creeks. A kind of dug-out shot from: the shore, paddled by a couple of naked Krooboys, whose skill and dexterity in the navigation of these small craft are astonishing. Stirling and his luggage were transferred to the dug-out and swiftly propelled 4] “A KIND OF DUG-OUT SHOT FROM THE Si toa scaffold of planks—the station “ wharf” — erected above a fetid black morass. Here he was landed. The scene that now presented itself to the young man’s gaze was unspeakably dismal, and to a stranger unacquainted with such places repulsive in the extreme. The Krooboys, after attending to his luggage, conducted him along a slimy path which led across the swamp, in which indescribable creatures wallowed and scuttled about. In fact, Stirling had never before seen such hideous creatures as he here beheld, except, possibly, in a nightmare. And the very air seemed full of a sickening, grave- yard-like odour. The Krooboys, observing the expression of disgust and repulsion on the white man’s face, grinned from ear to ear. It was not the first occasion by many that they had grinned under similar circumstances. Stirling’s mind was by this time seriously troubled, and the warning words of some of his fellow-travellers on the mail steamer recurred to him with dismal itera- tion. In gloomy silence he followed his guides along the unsavoury path, past a number of sickly, damp mangroves, from which moisture was constantly dripping, to a large wooden structure, which turned out to be the “ factory.” The interior was gloomy, and his entrance dis- turbed a number of large rats and monstrous cockroaches. Next he was conducted to the office, a small wooden hut close by, where he was greeted by the agent, the only white man in the place. The greeting he received was polite, without the slightest suggestion of cordiality. This agent, a German by the name of xX , was, in fact, a morose, surly, and violent- tempered individual—his unamiability being partly, if not wholly, due to the fact that his constitution had been undermined by the fever-fumes of the place. His outward appearance told its own tale, for his sullen face wore a ghastly pallor and his body was woefully emaciated. Having _in- timated that Stirling would be required for duty in the morning, he briefly signified that the interview was at an end. A Krooboy showed the disheartened young man toa small wooden shanty, which he understood was to be his sleeping apart- ment. His baggage had been deposited there, and there was a rude, bed-like structure in the corner, otherwise the place was empty. The atmo- sphere, nevertheless, was stuffy and malodorous, and Stirling did not tarry long in it, but strolled out to have a look round. ‘The Krooboy who had hitherto acted as his guide still hung about, occasionally casting furtive glances of amuse- ment at him. No doubt the white man’s look of helplessness, not to say dismay, appealed to his risible faculties. A few feet from the office, in a sort of small clearing, Stirling noticed a number of white crosses rudely constructed of wood. The sight of them filled his mind with a strange and sinister misgiving. The light of day was fast dying away, and the crosses showed out dis- tinctly against the gloomy background of swamp and foliage,.;; He regarded the symbols in silent

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THE NEW HAND AT THE CREEK. 169 awe for a few moments ; then, beckoning the Krooboy to advance, asked him what the crosses were there for. ““Graves, sah,” said the Krooboy, with a slight hesitation. “Graves !” echoed Stirling. “Whose graves?” “White men’s graves,” returned the Krooboy. Then, after a slight pause, “They come here Englishman retire to his unwholesome sleeping apartment. He lay awake for some time, in anything but a happy frame of mind. The heat was so great that his head felt as heavy as lead, mosquitoes descended upon him in myriads, and crawling abominations traversed the floor and walls. At five in the morning he was awakened and “SWHITE MEN'S GRAVES, RETURNED before you, sah ; ill some time, an’ die. So ’em buried.” Stirling stood transfixed, steadfastly regarding the simple sepulchres of his unhappy predeces- sors, while the negro glided from his side and disappeared in the deepening shadows. ‘The young man was by no means a coward, but so complete and overwhelming had been his dis- illu8ionment that it took him some time to realize to the full the realities of the position to which he had committed himself. Presently he felt more cheerful and, lighting a cfgarette, pulled from his waistcoat-pocket a small piece of crumpled newspaper. It contained a facsimile of the advertisement which heads this narrative. Stirling regarded it intently fora moment ; then, with a contemptuous shake of the head, he thrust it back into his pocket and strolled away. Wherever the youngster turned there appeared to be pollution and foulness, till at last his sur- roundings, and the dank odour that seemed to cling to him, positively sickened him. He was, in fact, in one of the most unhealthy regions on the face of the earth. Poor Stirling had already repented of his bargain, and before he had been there long he was to make the agent repent of his. Not till the night was far advanced did the Vol, xvii—22, THE KROOBOY.” brusquely told that he was required to “weigh in” palm-kernels. From that hour he toiled until sunset. For three weeks this sort of thing continued, in blazing sunshine or tropical down- pour. He never saw any shooting, fishing, or boating, as per the specious advertisement which had lured him out, and the work left no time for anything save hasty meals and _ sleeping. During this period Stirling learnt many things concerning the natural attractions of his new “home.” He was advised, for instance, not to walk barefoot at any time, to avoid being attacked by the “jigger,” a lively little insect which has a playful habit of laying its eggs under one’s skin. During these weeks of misery he had had no society, beyond that of the Kroo- boys, but that of the morose X , who dis- played no wish to make a friend of him. Heartily sick and tired of his wretched life, Stirling at length determined to bring matters to a head. One day, therefore, absenting himself from duty, he jumped into a small boat and rowed to a neighbouring island where the British Consul resided. He placed the whole matter before this official, and appealed to him to assist him in escaping) from |the place. The Consul, while sympathizing with “his plight, con-

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170 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fessed that he did not see how he could be of the advertisement that induced me to come assistance. Stirling had come out voluntarily, out here and to sign the contract. Let there he pointed out, having signed the contract with be no misunderstanding between us, Mr. X——. his eyes open, so to speak. If, as he main- tained, misrepresentation and fraud had been practised upon him, his remedy would lie with the firm in London. — Finally he advised Stirling to wait a little longer to see how matters turned out. Stirling had fondly hoped that the Consul would have had power to send him back on his own initiative, but this he found, to his intense disappointment, was not the case. The agent could, if he chose, send him back, but that was just what the agent refused to do. “I shall hold you to your contract,” he said, angrily. Stirling had not the money to pay for his own passage, so that things so far as he was concerned were at a deadlock. After much cogita- tion Stirling decided on a course of con- duct, and forthwith sought an interview with the agent. He found him in his office and was greeted with a frown anda grunt. Taking no notice of hi this, however, he at ie once proceeded to his business. “Mr X »” he said, “I have already pointed out to you that I was induced to come out here under false pretences. I ask you once more if you intend to send me back to England?” ' “T intend to do nothing of the kind,” was the agent’s uncompromising reply.‘ You don’t expect me to believe that you entered into the business with your eyes shut, do you? Young fellows of your stamp are not usually in the habit of doing that sort of thing. I shall hold you to your contract.” “Very well,” said Stirling, decisively, and pulled a small piece of crumpled paper from his waistcoat-pocket. ‘“ This,” he cried, “is “From this moment I propose to carry out my part of the bargain, with the slight modification that I shall henceforth refuse to do a stroke of work of any kind whatsoever! If you insist upan keeping me, you will do so in idleness and as much luxury as is to be obtained here. I shall ”—he referred to the slip of paper in his hand—“I shall shoot, I shall fish, I shall boat, and 1 shall ¢ry to enjoy my ‘pleasant surround- ings.’ But you will get no work out of me, Mr. X—— !” *“©Oh, indeed!” said the agent, sneer- ingly, and with a leer. “Then, young man, you will get no food !” “Oh, that’s it, is it, Mr. Agent?” ex- claimed Stirling, ap- proaching nearer to the angry German. “Now, listen to me. At every meal-time I shall enter the dining-room as usual, and it will be for you to stop me eating. If you attempt it, or if you refuse to sup- ply me with a meal when I want one, Tll_ knock the little stuffing you have left out of you!” YOU WILL GET NO WORK OUT OF ME, MR. x——." With glistening : eyes and threatening mien the young Englishman stood over the crouching agent. The contrast was. striking. Stirling was tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, as yet, happily, untainted by malaria, while the other was fever-racked and _insignificant-looking. His lip dropped and his hands shook. “See here,” continued Stirling ; “I'll stand no nonsense, Mr. X—--. I've been fooled enough already, and I’m not in a mood to be played with, Don’t try any of your monkey tricks on me, or think to get any help from the Krooboys. Do you know, Mr. X——, that they are not particularly fond of you? I've learnt that much from them. ; It appears that you have inot-been kid té‘them in the past.”

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THE NEW HAND He then approached very near to the now thoroughly alarmed agent and, almost in a whisper, said, “Do you know, Mr. X—--, that just a few words from me and there would be trouble at this station? The boys are quite partial to me; they are only niggers, but they can see that I have been sent here by scoundrels, and am being kept here by their hireling! And they’re sorry for me. There, there, don’t be alarmed ; I don’t want to compete with you in doing dirty work. All I want is to get away from this confounded place. Think the matter over, Mr. X—-—. In the meantime I intend to live as per advertisement. I shall leave you alone so long as you leave me alone. But, remember, not a stroke of work will I do!” With this Stirling strode out of the office, leaving the agent in a very unhappy frame of mind. The Englishman was as good as his word. He toiled not, neither did he spin, and he got as much enjoyment out of his situation as possible. Selecting a shady spot beneath the shadow of the cottonwoods, he lay idly drearnimy and smoking. Occasionally he would angle for mud-fish inthe river. When it rained he gathered the Kroo- boys together in the cool oil-shed and made them relate to him weird stories of the bush, of the Ju- Ju, and thrilling ex-* periences with the Liberian troops. The Krooboys liked this sort of thing, not being too much addicted to work, and they grinned from ear to ear at the strange conduct of the white man. X—— saw these goings-on and scowled viciously, but he dared not in- terfere. Meanwhile Stirling took his meals regularly in the apartment set aside for the feeding of the staff. X—— would dearly have liked to have had him thrown out neck and crop, but thought — discretion “HE MADR THEM RELATE TO HIM WEIRD STORIES OF THE BUSH,” AT THE CREEK. 171 the better part of valour. This absurd state of affairs went on for weeks, when suddenly an alarming report reached the station. The Nimbis, an up-country tribe of savages, had broken out in revolt and were advancing towards the coast, bent upon massacre! ‘These outbreaks occur periodically, and the news, in the light of past Mappenings of the kind, was disturbing in the extreme. Reports, vague but ominous, continued to come through, and everybody was on the alert night and day. ‘This was a peril that had never occurred to Stirling, and added yet another “attraction” to the already long list attaching to the neighbour- hood. As he looked round the station his military knowledge made it clear to him that it was in a very perilous situation, and quite open and easy to attack. True, the inhabitants had arms—revolvers and rifles—but they had no trained defenders. The Krooboys knew nothing of discipline or military dispositions, and a night attack by the enemy would inevitably lead to utter disaster. And the Nimbis, rumour had it, gave no quarter, fought like fiends, tortured the few prisoners they took, and even went so far as to indulge in canni- balism. Stirling realized that some practical steps ought to be taken to put the post in a state of defence, and, observing a truce for the time being, sought out X——, whom he found in his office, and proceeded to lay a proposal before him. “Look here, Mr. X--—,” he began ; “what I am going to Propose is not out of any goodwill towards you individually, but the lives of all at this station are at stake. For the moment we will bury our differ- ences, and if you give me a free hand I guarantee to drill the Krooboys into a useful defensive force which shall at least prevent the possibility of our being taken un-

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172 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. awares or surprised at night. What do you say?” “Oh, do what you like!” growled the agent, and_ Stirling set about his task at once. Patiently he drilled and re-drilled their own and _ their neighbours’ Kroo- boys until the natives had arrived at quite a creditable stage of proficiency. ‘Then he disposed his little force to the best advantage. He threw out sentries and out- posts, and placed vedettes on all the neighbouring creeks. He himself under- took scouting work, and, rifle on shoulder, paced the misty stretches of bush during the nocturnal hours. By means of alternate coaxings and threats he man- aged to keep his little force in: trim and at their posts. During all this time rumours continued to come in of the depredations committed elsewhere by the savage enemy, and when at length news reached the post of the fall of the neighbouring station of Akassa, and the terrible atrocities that had attended its sacking, their vigilance became redoubled, and those who retired to sleep at night did so with a loaded revolver or rifle ready to hand. The residence of the Consul was barricaded and sand-bags heaped upon the veranda, and all the other buildings were pre- pared for a siege. The time that ensued was one of terrible suspense. It was known that the Nimbis would make their appearance in a number of war-canoes, advancing from the interior through the creeks and tributaries, and a keen look-out was accord- ingly kept in that direction by Stirling and his men. One night those in the buildings heard distant shots, which were answered by a volley. It was the enemy driving in the sentries! The firing served to rouse the whole garrison, and “THEN ENSUED A SHAR ENCOUNTER.” by the time Stirling and others gained the buildings every man was at the “ready” with his weapon. ‘Then ensued a sharp encounter, and the air rang with the re- ports of rifles and the blood -curdling yells of the attacking party, incensed by the stubborn resist- ance offered by the garrison. Ere the savages had time to get to close quarters, however, the sound of heavy, booming reports was heard in the distance, and pre- sently a lurid glare shot up into the heavens. ‘Those at the station knew what it*meant, and were grateful for it; the enemy knew also, and beat a hasty retreat. The heavy detonations were caused by a gun- _ boat above a point called Sacrifice Point firing upon one of the Nimbi villages. ‘Thus the attack upon the station was nipped in the bud, but had it not been for Stirling’s foresight the inhabitants might have met the same terrible fate as the people at Akassa. The next day the young Englishman again sought the surly agent in his office. “Well,” he said, “have you altered your mind, or do we go on in the same manner?” “No,” replied X——, with very bad grace ; “you can go home!” There and then he gave Stirling an order on the purser of a mail-boat for a_ thirty-five pounds passage, and the latter, chuckling with joy, took the first steamer available back to old England.* Everyone except the morose agent was sorry to lose him, and at the various stations the traders still laugh over the story of the new hand who “struck.” many people on board the steamer, and by visitors from the shore. One of the notes of the young man's account at the gentleman's material that I bave con- struc ted the narrative.—THe AUTHOR,

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The Sturgeon Fishers of Russia. By J. E. Wuitsy. It is the Cossacks who conduct the sturgeon fishery, and it is the sturgeon which yields that delicacy so greatly prized by epicures—caviare. This article describes and illustrates the whole curious industry, which not one person in a hundred who has ever tasted caviare knows anything about. —t : ha a [az Sal O most people the Cossacks merely f represent the bulwark of the Russian ] army—soldiers wild, fierce, and law- ] less on the one hand, yet patient under hardships and deprivations on the other ; and so enjoying the lust of blood that 1s in their veins that they can be depended upon to fight not only the enemies of their country, but to slay their fellow-countrymen with the same lively satisfaction whenever occasion offers. Recent events have perhaps emphasized in our minds their fierce love of slaughter, and it may therefore come as a sur- prise to many Wipe Wor -p readers to learn that a great proportion of this dashing, fearless people—whose origin no one rightly knows— pass their time in the peaceful occupation of fishing, and that it is to their piscatorial efforts that we owe the dainty so beloved of gourmets —caviare. It must be owned that primarily the Cossacks who remain in their own provinces on the borders of that part of Russia known as the Steppes are bent on securing their personal sustenance, for not only does the fish caught form a great part of the diet of those who dwell to the north of the Caspian Sea, but the caviare obtained from it plays an even more important role in the ever-interesting question of supply. What elsewhere is esteemed by the rich as a luxury is in this far corner of the Czar’s dominions regarded as a mete necessity of life, and is esteemed the most important article of diet. ‘The unrest in Russia, it is feared, will greatly affect the caviare industry, for the fishery is principally carried on during the depth of winter ; and though far away as are the fishers from the centre of trouble, even they are rising in their turn against the powers that be and are leaving their work. Many a fine sturgeon sailing proudly up some ice-covered river will thus return to deep water safe and sound. Caviare, as everyone knows, is a preparation made from the eggs of the sturgeon, though it must be confessed that, when supplies are scarce, the roes of other fish sometimes do duty also. It comes from various countries, as shall presently be shown, but the best is sent from Russia and from that south-eastern district wherein roll the deep, heavy waters of the Ural, the Don, the Dnieper, the Boug, the Emba, and that part of the Volga which runs through the province of Astrakhan. The northern shore of the Caspian Sea contributes its share of sturgeon, too, as do the seas of Azov and Aral. Since it is probable that the supply will be short this year it might be as well to learn a little more than the average person about caviare (which is that it is something eaten on toast or in sandwiches), so that when, purged and purified, Russia rises like the Phoenix we may enjoy the delicacy with the added satisfac- tion of knowing all about it. The proper appreciation of caviare is un- doubtedly an acquired taste, and many there are who agree with the lady who declared, amidst horrible grimaces, that it tasted “like rotten seaweed,” and could not possibly be swallowed. It seems to have been known and reckoned as a dainty even in Shakespeare’s time, since he refers to its lack of popularity (thereby placing it high,on the ladder of real distinction) in “Hamlet,” the quotation being too well known to need repetition. To make caviare, of course, you must first catch your sturgeon, and, though this may be done in summer, caviare-making is a winter industry, and the principal part of the fishing takes place in severe weather. The country through which the rivers mentioned flow con- sists of large plains, covered for many months deep in snow, and swept by bitter winds. Here, in dreary wastes, live thousands of Russians who subsist almost entirely on the fish they catch. Of agriculture there is none, except for an oasis round the capital of Astrakhan, but Nature has stocked the rivers and lakes with plenty of finny spoil, and the deep waters at certain seasons overflow all the surrounding country, bringing the fish within comparatively easy reach. The making of caviare for the foreign market is, of course, the result of a surplus stock, but primarily it is made as an article of daily food. The fishers and their families do not regard it as a dainty to tickle their palates, but as their principal sustenance, and when eaten with the national black rye- bread it forms a satisfying and nutritious diet. There are many species of sturgeon, all con-

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174 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fined to the Northern Hemisphere, and these are very varied in size. The most generally eaten caviare is made from the roe of the great sturgeon, a fish which runs up to twenty-five feet in length. The sterlet, a smaller kind, whick reaches a length of five feet, has naturally a smaller supply of roe. It is highly prized, how- ever, because it is from this fish that liquid caviare is made, a delicacy that is never met with far out of Russia, since it is very lightly salted and will not keep. A little finds its way to Persia and the table of the Khedive, but even in Russia it is rarely to be seen, except at the Czar’s table or in Court circles. Caviare, as I have said, is prepared from fish caught in the depths of winter ; and winter-in this particular part of Russia is exceptionally severe, for here Nature exhibits her fiercest moods. If there be any who love a rigorous climate and like to witness uncommon sights, a trip to the borders of the Ural River in mid- winter will provide them with an unusual spectacle. Here the traveller will find a wide and frozen river, dotted with crowds of men fishing. But they are fishing in a way that is distinctly novel to most travellers, for their lines are passed through holes in the ice on which - == — tt 8 «aA nA RD Pie they stand. When there is a catch—and the sturgeon are very plentiful—the capture is dragged bodily through the hole and dispatched with the sticks which, as the illustration shows, each man carries, Great carts are in waiting here and there to transport the spoil to the sheds, where the fish are either relieved of their valuable cargo of eggs forthwith, or are dispatched to the markets for sale to caviare- makers. . Another illustration gives some idea of what the curious open-air fish-market at Uralsk looks like, showing the sledges loaded with sturgeon of all sorts and sizes awaiting buyers. Directly the fish are taken to the cavaire shed the work of preparation begins. Liquid caviare is pre- pared with finest salt, in the proportion of from four to five per cent. and fetches a very high price. This kind is known as “ikra.” Pressed caviare is locally known as “ pagus- naya,” and the salt which is used to preserve it is secured by the fishers from the mouths and estuaries of the Ural, where it is deposited by the waters of the river after inundations. The pressed variety is made with brine, the roe being rubbed with a wooden spoon through sieves, so as to secure the removal of all liga- A GENERAL VIEW OF THE STURGEON FISHERY—THE MEN PASS THEIR LINES THROUGH HOLES IN THE ICE, CLUBBING THEIR CATCHES From a) WITH THE STICKS SHOWN. { Photo,

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THE STURGEON From a} . ments from the fish eggs. Liquid caviare is packed in bottles with ice in tin boxes, but the pressed is squeezed with the greatest force into canvas bags. Skin sacks of it are submitted to the forcible persuasions of a powerful press, so that all the brine shall be extracted. This kind is then packed in oaken barrels lined with cloths, and is known as “serviette caviare,” while that which is sold in canvas bags is known in the trade as “sack caviare.” Packed in either way it will stand any amount of trans- port. Warsaw has become the principal market for this commodity with Western Europe. The immense number of sturgeon caught and EXTRACTING THE EGGS FROM A FINE SIX-FOOT STURGEON, THE CURIOUS OPEN-AIR FISH-MARKET AT URALSK, SHOWING THE STURGEON EXPOSED FOR SALE ON SLEUGES. FISHERS OF RUSSIA. 175 the almost incre- dible quantity of caviare that is prepared may per- haps be realized when it is known that these Rus- sian fisheries pro- duce annually more than four million kilos(four thousand tons) of caviare! Only five hundred tons of this is the liquid form, The nutritive qualities of caviare are certainly not generally appre- ciated. Asa mat- ter of fact it is very rich in nitro- gen and fat, be- sides including in its components sea-salt and mineral substances. To point this out more exactly it should be stated that caviare contains much more nitrogen than beef, while the fat which it boasts adds greatly to its dietetic value. Moreover, it exer- cises a highly stimulating and energizing effect on the stomach, and is not only an appetizer but a tonic. Russians greatly value it, and it is seldom absent from the tables of the rich, and never from that of the Czar, where every meal sees caviare served. That which is supplied for Imperial eating is the enforced tribute of the Cossack fishers, who, before they may reap the <M be <i * - From a Photo.

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176 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. profit of their own. > =z industry, areobliged to supply the Autocrat of All the Russias with eleven tons of the best. This tribute or tax is called, with plea- sant irony, “the fish present.” To secure this amount © of caviare no fewer than five thousand sturgeon must be caught, so that the impost is no nominal one. of our illustrations shows the Cos- sacks preparing to catch this great quantity of sturgeon for the benefit of Nicholas II. ere starting on their own labours. A certain amount of caviare comes to England, France, and Germany, but not much, and a good deal of that which we eat is “ made in Germany” from the common sturgeon, and sent off from Hamburg as “real Russian.” Another kind of caviare is made from the roes of pike and carp ; it is coloured red, and is known as “the Jews’ caviare.” Italy also makes a caviiare of her own, which is very palatable, beng more delicate than the Russian. — For this the bream, the pike, the perch, and countless One ciate: a COSSACES GATHRKING SEA-SALT FOR PICKLING THE CAVIARE. Aroma Photo. other fish contri- bute their eggs; while Norway, too, makes a mock caviare which has only a local in- * terest. America, anxious to be self-support- ing, is making » ., caviare also, but for many reasons Russian caviare commands the market. Formerly the sturgeon fishers added to their pro- fit by the sale of the air-tladder of the sturgeons for making isinglass, and Russia was for a long time the only country supply- ing this commodity. Modern _ necessities, however, have led to this breathing apparatus being appropriated from other fish than the sturgeon, and the trade has, in consequence, greatly declined. Many a gourmet might think a life spent in eating caviare not altogether without joy, and would look upon the Russian fisherman’s lot with envy ; but it is probable that a very brief experience of the rigorous hardships inseparable from the calling would soon cause him to relin- quish the work, caviare or no caviare. oe mF ISS Sieg THE CZAR EXACTS AN ANNUAL TRIBUTE OF FIVE THOUSAND STURGEON FROM THE COSSACKS—HERE WE SEE THEM ABOUT TO From a) COMMENCE THE CATCHING OF THE FISH WITH WHICH TO PAY THE TAX.

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Being the story of the terrible experience which befell an American Government official while on a brier holiday excursion from Manila. He fell into the hands of a veritable fiend in human form, a guerrilla chief named San Miguel, and went through an ordeal such as few men, fortunately, are called upon to endure. 1. ———— IVER since my arrival at Manila I Miguel or ‘‘General” Felizardo would capture FESNG) bad desired to take a trip up the me. ; iF Pasig River and around the great +At 6.30 on Saturday morning, January 2nd, Pe. ae? | inland lake, 1904, | was at the boat- Laguna de landing at the* foot Bay. So, when the holiday season drew near, I determined to seek a short leave of absence from my duties and see the wonders and delights of this region. I arranged to leave Manila on Saturday morning and return Sunday night. Little did 1 know what an exciting two days’ ex- perience was in store for me! My friends laugh- ingly warned me to look out for the ladrones (brigands) or guerrillas, and one or two jocosely offered to steered for Los Banos, bet me a few pesos lying at the foot of that “General” San = Froma) THE AUTHOR, MR. P. V. ALPISER, (Photo Mount Maquiling, Vol. xvii.—23. of Pasage de Perez, Manila, and secured my ticket for Los Bajios, the most noted town up the lake, about forty miles from Manila, and was ready to em- bark. Three small steamers lay side by side, and I was com- pelled to scramble over the first two in order to reach mine, which was named the A/adait, a Tagalog word mean- ing ‘‘wisdom”’ or “ judgment.” Out over the laguna we slowly steamed, made a short stop at Calamba, and then

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178 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. which rises four thousand feet above it The town has a picturesque location. In front of it, at the water’s ede, for a distance of some two or three hundred feet, steam and vapour rise in clouds, indicating proximity to the famous hot springs from which the place gets its name. These springs are said to have their origin in the volcanic mountain just behind them, and vary in temperature from boiling to cool. I disembarked from the boat and immediately sought an hotel, for my watch advised me it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. The meal I had was a most excellent one, and, sitting in the cool dining-room with the soft breezes of the lake fanning me gently, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. After a short siesta I started for a stroll to the waterfalls—one of the main induce- ments of my trip. The manager of the hotel, a sturdy American, in- formed me that I should have no trouble in finding my way, and, pointing to the main road running off to the west, in- structed me to “follow it until you strike a plain path leading up the side of the mountain. ‘That path,” he added, “will take you right to the falls.” I followed the road past the Government _ hos- pital and the Isuan mineral-water works; then on past the soldiers’ quarters I went, over a small wooden bridge, and so out into the country. The manager of the hotel had smilingly asked me if I carried a revolver, saying the /adrones would be likely to get me, but I laughingly replied, “No!” The Assistant Chief of the Philippines Constabulary had said that it was much safer for a man to be without a gun than with one, and I had taken From a) OUT FOR HIS WALK, his advice, bringing my Kodak instead. Succeed- ing events proved that perhaps I was just as well off as if I had had a gun, and maybe better, for a man with a gun does strange things some- times, particularly when he is not too well acquainted with his weapon. A few minutes more and I crossed a small stone bridge, near which a path ran up towards the mountajn, but it was so obscure that I con- cluded it could not be the one I wanted, the “plain” one, and walked on. The road I followed was the high road to Calamba, which gradually became rougher and rougher, running through small ravines overhung with heavy vegetation. The surrounding country is here very wild, and several times I felt tempted to turn back, feeling that I had lost my way, but seeing the telegraph wires of the Army Signal Corps leading on- ward and upward I kept on. Finally I en- tered a deep ravine or pass in the mountain, through which the road ran. ‘The sides of this pass towered straight up for several hundred feet, yet so narrow was it and so luxu- riant the vegeta- tion that vines crossed and inter- mingled many feet above, entirely shutting out the light of heaven. This section of Laguna Province, because of its mountain caves and almost inac- cessible fastnesses, has been a favour- ite resort for insur- gents and /adrones for centuries past. Even at the pre- sent time small but murderous bands of brigands make it their home, sallying forth to prey on the traveller and the unprotected homes and villages. After one of these marauding expeditions they with- draw into the mountains and defy their pursuers. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was 3-30 p.m., and, though the bright tropical sun THE WATERFALL THAT THE AUTHOR INTENDED TO VISIT WHEN HE STARTED [PActo.

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MY TWO DAYs’ shone fiercely outside the pass, hardly a ray of sunshine penetrated the darkness of the spot where I stood. Suddenly a slight movement and noise behind me caused me to turn quickly. There at my side stood a fierce and ugly Filipino, his arms crossed on his breast, con- templating me with gleaming eyes, very much in the attitude of the great Napo- leon as I have seen him pictured ! This wild creature was perhaps five feet five inches in height, of an extremely sturdy frame for a Filipino, and about the only clothing he could boast of was a girdle around _ his loins and a native camisa which came down just below the girdle. The muscles of his legs and arms stood out in knots on his dark-brown, almost black, skin, while his well-deve- loped chest told of the active outdoor life he led. At his left side swung a dangerous do/o, or heavy knife. In addi- tion to the doo he carried on the other side a very fine Colt revolver — doubt'ess the former posses- sion of some unfortu- nate American sol- dier. But the face of this savage was what impressed me most. He had a low forehead and the slightly slanting, cunning, and treacherous eyes of the Chino mestizo, the most dangerous afd clever foe of the white man in the islands. I stared curiously and with some degree of fear at this native, noting his rather thick nose and lips, his closely-clipped hair—my mind striving to recall all that I had read or heard about the various noted /adrones still at liberty, for I had decided at once that this man was a brigand. Then, with a start, I saw that the lower part of the stranger’s left ear was missing. What was there familiar about this fact? What famous bandit had lost part of his left earin a “THERE AT MY SIDE STOOD A FIERCE AND UGLY FILIPINO.” HOLIDAY. 179 skirmish with the soldiers? The answer came to me like a flash and set my heart beating wildly. This man was none other than San Miguel—‘“ General” San Miguel he proudly called himself —known as the worst and boldest Jadrone chief operating in the islands! Yes, without doubt, it was “General” San Mig- uel — he who had been keeping the Government — forces on the run after him all over the Island of Luzon, and the account of whose atrocities against captured soldiers, loyal Filipinos, and the helpless men, women, and children who fell in his way, filled the hearts of white and brown people alike — with terror ! San Miguel had been in the army of Aguinaldo,and made somewhat of a re putation for reckless- ness and bravery in the warfare against the American troops. When the insurree tion was finally ter- minated by the cap- ture of Aguinaldo, San Miguel remained implacable and_ re- fused all offers to surrender and secure amnesty, disappear- ing from view alto- gether for some time. It was known that he had been wounded in one of the last skirmishes, and it was thought that perhaps he had since died of his injuries. Nothing was heard of him until the end of 1902, when a+ squad of American soldiers was surprised in a mountain-pass in Bataan Province, just across the bay from Manila, and the whole party of eight brutally massacred. Their bodies were mutilated beyond descrip tion and bore evidence of having been tortured terribly. Pinned to the corpse of the sergeant who had been in command, by means of a sharpened bamboo stick, a_ blood-stained piece of paper on which were written the follow- ing words ;—

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180 THE WIDE WORLD Dogs of Americans! Take this as a message of renewed and eternal defiance from one who fought against. you with the weak-kneed cur Aguinaldo, and who, having recovered from the wounds inflicted by you, again takes the field with his brave patriots and will strike you whenever and wherever he can. Beware, all people! There is no mercy in my heart for American hounds and Filipino traitors! If you want to know who annihilated your forces in this battle look for the only Filipino patriot and leader now in the field —and beware when vou find him, for his breath is poison and his sting is death | (Signed) GENERAL SAN MIGUEL, Commander-in-Chiefof the Filipino Army of Freedom. This fearful atrocity was followed by others in Bulacan Province and in Rizal, and even just outside the city limits of Manila itself. Then for a season all was quiet. San Miguel was resting, perhaps enjoying himself in Manila. People began to hope that he had paid the penalty of bis crimes in one of the numerous fights that had taken place. Suddenly, in Cavite Province, the eight members of a promi- nent Filipino family who had been quite loyal to the American Government were discovered . murdered in’ their home, fearfully mutilated, practically in the same manner as the squad of soldiers in Bataan. The handiwork of San Miguel was thus revealed. The father of this unfortunate family had suffered the most brutal treatment cf all, his head having been com- pletely severed from his body and placed on a bamboo pole sunk in the ground a few paces in front of the house. The neighbours who dis- covered the awful tragedy found a piece of paper fluttering beneath, bearing the following warning :— Filipino traitors | This is what will happen to all who give aid or information to the tyrannical American Government and its pigs of soldiers, (Signed) GENERAL SAN MIGUEL, Ftc. This affair aroused the Government to a full realization of its responsibility, and the regular army was utilized to aid the native constabulary forces to capture or kill this desperado and_ his band of cut-throats. Several companies of sturdy American soldiers were placed in the field, and it was not hard to tell by the gleam of their eyes what would occur if San Miguel came within range of their rifles. A regular campaign was initiated, and at last the Government felt that it had San Miguel in a trap from which he could not escape, but on drawing the net closer around him it was found he had completely disappeared, leaving no trace behind him. — So far as outward evidence was concerned, he might have been swallowed by the earth (which was probably the actual truth), and the soldiers began to feel a little discouraged = “The native scouts, who had faithfully and indefatigably taken part in the chase, crossed themselves religiously, made MAGAZINE. mysterious signs, and talked in whispers of the powerful Antung-Antung (charm) that San Miguel must possess to carry him safely through the perils that had menaced him. Leaving magic out of the question, it was plain that the wily “General” had in some manner accom- plished his escape over the mountains, and must be in either Batangas or Laguna Province. ‘The pursuit had been accordingly taken up again, but without result to the time of my trip to Los Banos. Nothing had been heard of San Miguel for several weeks, so that the authorities were expecting to hear of some new crime at any time. And now he stood before me—the murderer, robber, and perpetrator of every imaginable crime! When I fully realized the fact, I simply ‘stood there limp and helpless, white to the lips, looking like a man already convicted aiid wait- ing on the threshold of the gallows. Thus we stood gazing at each other for several minutes, he, with a ferocious expression on his face, surveying me very much as a cannibal must his victim. ‘Then suddenly he turned and started toward the opening of the pass through which I had entered, motioning me at the same time to follow. This 1 mechanically did, never thinking that perhaps I might escape by running to the other end of the pass. L didn’t even wonder, so numbed were my facultics, why I was treated in such an indifferent manner. The next few minutes, however, brought the explanation. The “General” paused near the opening, where the light fell strongly upon him. He glanced rather anxiously towards Los Banos, less than three miles away, where the military post and hospital were in plain sight. Moving a little uneasily, I heard something click sharply at my side, and in my nervous condition I jumped slightly and swung my Kodak to the front. That movement came near being my last on earth, for on the instant something came whistling and hurtling viciously through the air, almost grazing my head. I stood petrified with horror, noting that the missile was a murderous éo/o, >At the noise the “General” turned quickly round, and, taking in the situa- tion at once, spoke sharply and commandingly, apparently to the sides of the pass, for no one was in sight. After a little scrambling above and around us, which proved conclusively that the “General” had his forces with him, all was silent again. San Miguel looked at me a moment in per- plexity, as though seeking the cause for the attempt on my life, and then, noting my Kodak for the first time, pointéd to it and to himself,

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MY TWO DAYS’ HOLIDAY. 181 and said in Tagdlog a few words, of which I understood “aco” and “ patay,” meaning ‘my death” or “I am dead.” The impression given me was that the /adrone who had thrown the bolo did not know what a Kodak was, and thought when I raised it involuntarily that I was derful transformation taking place in San Miguel. ° He drew his 40/0 from his side with a curse, and waved it furiously in the air towards the distant soldiers. If those brave fellows could have known of the dire necessity of their country- man and the nearness of their hated enemy ! METHING CAME WHISTLING A going to harm his “ General,” evidently believing that the innocent camera was some kind of Americano infernal machine or gun. Later I learned that my supposition in the matter was correct, and that many of the ignorant natives had no idea of the construction or use of a camera. ‘This incident made another thing very clear to me. Had I attempted to make my escape when the “General” led me to the opening of the pass I should have been the target for countless 4o/os and bullets, which would in all probability have ended my career long before I could have reached the end. I felt sick as I thought of it. Presently the “‘ General ” turned and motioned me to approach nearer. He pointed down over the beautiful landscape before us. I gazed almost with disgust at the scenic beauties I had sincerely admired but a short time before, for they were partly responsible for my being in this parlous position. Then I looked longingly at the military post at Los Bajos, and felt my hopes rise when a file of soldiers came out that moment into the f/aza in front of the barracks. My attention, however, was called to the won- HURTLING VICIOUSLY THR iH THE AIR San Miguel almost frothed at the mouth in his anger, and I stood there motionless by his side, waiting for the do/o stroke that I feared was coming—but it was not to be. He calmed himself gradually, looking at me meanwhile exultingly, and then replaced his knife in its sheath. Next he turned, motioned me to pre- cede him, and we started back into the pass. When about half-way through it he stopped and, whistled softly three times. Down tumbled half-a-dozen of the dirtiest and most villainous- looking rascals I have ever seen. The “General” looked at me, said something in Tagalog, and before I could count three I had been seized and a heavy bandage rolled round my head and over my eyes, completely blind- folding me. Then I heard the sound of vines being pulled aside, and was pushed forward on to my hands and knees, and felt that we had entered a secret passage. I wondered if I could find the opening through which I had entered if I were ever at liberty again. I believed that 1 could, for I had noticed in the brief moment I stood at the entrance a curiously-twisted vine, with its roots entwined around a large rock embedded in the side of the pass.

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182 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We travelled slowly along the passage for perhaps twenty minutes. The bandage was taken from my eyes in the meantime, and I found myself in total darkness. I knew there was someone in front of me and someone behind me, but I could see nothing. I heard a few words spoken ahcad of me, and, bumping into someone who cursed in mixed Tagalog and Spanish, discovered that we had stopped. Ina few seconds I beheld a blaze of light a short distance ahead; then another to one side, and still another, proved that we were in a cavern or widening of the passage. It was also evident that a consultation was to be held he ‘Tbe cocoanut-oil lamps gave su to get a fair view of the proceedings. San Miguel, feeling free from caution, now assumed a very pompous and conceited air of authority, and spoke to “Colonel” Romero, “ Major” Santos, “Captain” Pilar, and “ Cap- tain” Sanchez, until I presently realized that in this conference there was no person of lower rank than captain. 1 noted that this party was well supplied with rifles, the patterns of which I could not then discern, but later found them to be Krag- Jorgensens, Spanish Mausers, and Springfields mixed. Of course it goes without saying that each man carried a def. The members engaged in this consultation were a scoundrelly- looking crew, some dressed like the “General,” while others wore the red tusurrecto pantaloons and sashes, once gaudy and bright, and each one I saw was also supplied with a revolver in addition to his other weapons. ‘The “General” sat at one side of the cavern, and it seemed to me that he displayed just a little distrust of his comrades, who sat in a circle spreading from either side of him to the front. He spoke to them in Tagalog, with once in a while a Spanish expres- sion, and glanced now and then at me, when all would turn and scowl at me, making my flesh creep, for I felt that my fate was under discus- sion. The “General” was evidently proposing some plan, and some objected while others approved, but finally all agreed with him. San Miguel then arose and came over to me, asking in Spanish if I understood that language. I replied that I did a little. He then told me that it had been decided to keep me until night. When his dear friend came in with his captives and booty, he added, coolly, 1 grand festa would be held at which the Sesior Americano (myself) would be the chief feature. Tt can be imagined how much I enjoyed this information, but 1 did not have time to meditate upon it just then, for I was promptly seized, swung to my feet, and pushed forward again. We passed from the cavern to another passage, a native village ! narrower than the first ; I could easily feel the damp walls on either side of me. Not a word was spoken, and we travelled on at a fair pace upright in the passage, when suddenly I was brought to a standstill by a terrible blow on the forehead, and found that the passage had decreased in height by one half, it now being necessary to crawl on my hands and kpees. It was plain that the savages cared nothie for the injuries I might receive, and I was in terrorelest 1 should drop through some hole into a bottomless pit; but it soon became evident that the fiendish “General” had other intentions regarding me. We travelled for about fifteen minutes on hands and knees, and then the passage per- mitted us to stand again, and after, perhaps, twenty minutes more of walking we came to the journey’s end, where I was seized from behind and brought to a stop. ‘The atmosphere of the vault had been damp and very bad, but now it was fresh and sweet, and I knew we were in the open air. Having been blindfolded again, I was pushed ahead for perhaps five minutes, over rough and uneven ground covered with rocks and pebbles. Then, to my surprise, the voices of women and children broke the stillness. Surely the Aadrone chief was not taking me into But I did not have time for much thinking, for I was rudely thrown to the ground, the bandage being torn from my eyes at the same time. 1 looked around and took in my surround- ings. We were in the centre of an oval-shaped depression in the earth's surface, which reminded me of nothing so much as a huge bowl with tough, jagged edges piercing skyward for several hundred feet. At once I realized that this must be the crater of an extinct volcano, and remem- bered that there were several in this vicinity. I looked around to see the manner of my entrance from the secret passage, but in vain. I then scanned the walls for a path or some means of ingress or egress from the pit, but could see nothing of the kind. I began to believe that the secret passage was the only way in and out of the crater, which was perhaps a quarter of a mile long and about five hundred feet wide at its broadest part. I was nearer one of the ends than the centre of the hole, and, looking care- fully at the far end, I saw what seemed to be a distinct crack in the wall, but it did not appear to be large enough for a man’s body to pass through. Seemingly it was only a very narrow rift in the wall. Here and there in the crater small mounds rose to a height of fifteen or twenty feet above the general level, and on one side, and a little to the opposite of the centre from me, was a-large, circular depression

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MY TWO DAYS’ HOLIDAY. “1 SAW THAT TWO GUARDS HAD at least one hundred feet in diameter, and which from my point of view resembled an amphi- theatre. A few of t’ : usual native shacks stood close to this amplfrneatre. While I looked around me the ‘“ General” and his followers had scattered towards the huts. I saw that two guards had been left to take care of me, but I was not tied or bound in any way. My guards were disagreeable-looking fellows, each armed with a Springfield riflé and a dodo, and squatted in Filipino fashion, faces towards me, at the base and on opposite sides of the little mound on which I was located. I looked towards the huts and counted in the hext few minutes about twenty women and eight or ten small children. I could smell fish and other food in the course of ‘preparation’ for dinner. This was the first time I had ever heard, much less known, of /aarones living in permanent camps with women and children, but I had the proof before me. Soon the whole population of the village were sauntering around—men, women, and children eyeing me with mingled curiosity and fear, for the American soldier has made a very strong impression on these brown peuple. I submitted impassively to the scrutiny, and one of the women, getting bolder, came near me and, before I could guess her intentions, expec- torated a mouthful of duyo (betel-nut) juice in BEEN LEFT TO TAKE CARE OF ME my face, to the great enjoyment of the rest, who cheered and laughed boisterously. I was nearly blinded for a few moments by the smarting liquid, and before I had entirely cleared my eyes a nasty blow or kick in the back brought me to my feet. Whirling angrily around, I struck the grinning fellow who had inflicted the injury with all my might, fairly hurling him from his feet. This exhibition secured considerable respect for me from the crowd, which now edged away and in turn jeered the man who had kicked me. One woman who seemed to thoroughly enjoy my action in flooring the impudent native, and who held aloof from the rest, was notice- ably whiter than the others. She was about twénty-one or twenty-two years of age, and her face bore evidence of refinement. This woman now passed through the crowd, which made way for her respectfully, showing that she had some authority among them, and came close to me, looking at me rather curiously and saying at the same time in a low, musical voice, “ Buenos dias, sehor” (good day, sir). I looked at her a moment in surprise and then returned her greeting. She glanced at me sharply; then slowly and deliberately took a package of Insular cigarettes from somewhere in her dress, drew one of them from the package, and gracefully held” it towards me. I, not

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184 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. wishing to offend so important a member of the /adrone band, hesitated a moment and then accepted the weed. She smiled approvingly, took a cigarette in her slender fingers for her- self, and then drew a small box of matches from her dress. She struck one of the matches and held it for me to light my cigarette, leaning for- ward as she did so and saying, in a low voice, to my intense sur- prise, “Trust me, sehor! I am only here by force and will help you to escape this night! Be on your guard and watch !” These few words were said very quickly, and while she was politely holding the match for me. | Lighting my cigarette and scarcely realizing what I had heard, I yet gave her to know that I under- stood. As she drop- ped the match she drew back, looked me over in a dis- dainful way, and said, in a loud voice, “Loco Americano! A little while and you will die a dog’s death, as a dog should die!” Then she struck me sharply in the face and walked back through the women who still lingered about, and now gazed admiringly at her. It was a clever trick if her previous words were true, and indicated a cvol and astute mind. I was amazed by the turn of events. Why was this woman here, and why did she want to help me? I recalled her statement that she was “‘here by force,” and had to be satisfied. Just then a big, dirty-looking woman approached, and noticed my eyes still following the retreating form of the white Filipino, to ‘SHE HELD IT UP FOR ME TO LIGHT MY CIGARETTE.” which I pointed inquiringly. She evidently understood me, for she also pointed at the girl and said something about “ matrimonio” of “General” San Miguel. Thus I learned that the mestizo was the “General’s” wife— probably some unfortunate girl he had kid- napped on one of his marauding expeditions and forced to remain with him. It was now after five o’clock, and I had been in the hands of the /adrones more than two hours. I thought of the jok- ing warnings of my friends in Manila, and of the old say- ing that a word spoken in jest is often a prophecy. I was having a new experience, and was not so pleased with it as I might have been. I looked at my surroundings, considered them well, and was not at all at ease. I had a large and painful swelling on my forehead where I had come in con- tact with the low ceiling of the secret passage, and my head ached badly as a result; my hands and arms were badly cut ; my legs were bruised and sore; and my white clothes were torn and almost as dirty as those of my captors. I had started from Manila with the intention of staying two days in the country, Saturday and Sunday, and nothing would be said or thought if I did not return until Monday or Tuesday, and certainly no alarm would be occasioned. Therefore I could not expect anyone to become uneasy about me for at least three days. And in the meantime what would happen? I shuddered; there was evidently no help to be looked for from Manila. (To be concluded.)

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Our “ Home from Home” in Rhodesia. By Mrs. Aina E. REDHEAD. A brightly-written description of the experiences of a settler’s wife on the Rhodesiar. veldt. the manifold difficulties of housekeeping, and the with the idiosyncrasies of native servants, What dangers from deadly snakes, coupled with the ever-present loneliness of the veldt, the housewife in Rhodesia needs more than ordinary pluck and endurance. Sy OME years ago my husband and I } went to Rhodesia to settle. The journey from Cape Town was un- 4 interestingly long and dreary, for the train de /uxe was not running then, and we took about six days in getting to Bulawayo What struck me most ev route was the immensity of everything—the vast stretches of interminable veldt, treeless and cheerless, the huge, grim, stony mountains, and the scarcity of life everywhere. The monotony was broken only when we halted at the few stations, nearly all miserable structures of galvanized iron, comprising a post- office, ticket-office, and sometimes a very meagre bar, where lukewarm drinks were served to thirst-tortured travellers. On our arrival at Bulawayo, however, we were agreeably surprised at the appearance of the town, with its enormous buildings and bold, broad streets. The place teemed with life. The BS.A. Police Band was playing magnificently, and the streets and houses were brilliantly illuminated with electric light. We bought a property some miles from town and far removed from all white neighbours. The women- folk in Bulawayo were somewhat horrified at the idea of my living so far from white people, and predicted all kinds of horrible things that might happen. According to them the wearing of a revolver would be one of the principal necessities in my_ new life, although I Vol. xvii 24. G ae Pat From a) A GENERAL VIEW OF THE “HOME FROM HOME." could not fancy myself carrying a weapon. Of course, to a new-comer, this talk was disquieting, and I must confess it made me a little nervous at first. After awhile, however, this feeling quite wore off; I could laugh at their fears, and enjoy to the full the absolute freedom and adventure of my country life. Our home resembled, from a distance, a huge native kraal or settlement. The houses were shaped like bell-tents, with thatched roofs. Thatched verandas, overgrown with creepers of different kinds, ran all round them. There was not much order in their arrangement; they seemed to have been set down anywhere. They were delightfully cool and shady, however—just the very thing for the hot and trying climate, and charmingly novel to the eyes of people accustomed to the ordered primness of an English home. It took me some time to adapt myself to the (Photo.

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186 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. round rooms, and it was rather a puzzle at first how best to bestow the furniture. Once com- pleted, however, the result was most effective and quaintly pretty. Housekeeping on the veldt We had to I soon found was no sinecure. From a) depend largely on tinned goods—tinned meats, fish, and vegetables—and it requires a good deal of ingenuity and thought to concoct tasty and novel dishes from these somewhat un- promising materials, but it is truly wonderful what good results one can produce when put to it. Nothing must be wasted, for comestibles are ex- pensive, and your monthly supply has to be carefully shepherded, on account of the diffi- culty and_prohibi- tive prices of trans- port. Horses are scarce and expensive to keep; bicycling is almost impossible on the bush roads, which are sandy and rough and very little used. Woe betide the forgetful housewife, for one cannot easily resort to a “run into THE AUTHORESS IN HEK GARDEN. THE KITCHEN. town” for a pound of sugar when you are short. This means constant vigilance and continual overhauling of your stock, for fear of an acci- dental shortage. My storeroom was a marvel to English eyes, packed on ail sides with tins, (Photo. jars, and bottles full of every conceivable kind of foodstuff. There were tin-lined boxes con- taining the flour, rice, etc., mounted on bricks - and clear of the floor, because of the insects that infest the country, while the legs of the meat and food safes stood in cans of paraffin oil, to keep the ants and cockroaches away. The win- dows were wire netted to exclude flies — an impossi- bility, unfortu- nately. ‘The care of one’s house in Rhodesia is a perpetual source of anxiety. All the woodwork, thatch, etc. —in fact, everything perishable—has to be inspected daily, and fumigated every week with sulphur, with closed doors and windows, as the white ants simply swarm there, [Riosd,

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OUR and if allowed a free hand would bring your house down about your ears in a week. One dare not leave a mat or rug, a hat, book, or cloth of any description, on the ground even for a single night. If you did you would find it riddled with holes next day, so voracious are these little pests. Well do I remember the first evening we spent at our farm. ‘The moon was at the full, making everything startlingly bright and clear, and the crickets were making a most distracting and deafening noise. I had fallen into a reverie, conjuring up in my mind all the terrors of the dreadful Matabele rising of 1897, and was con- sequently not feeling particularly comfortable or bright, especially as our property was located near one of the centres of the trouble and adjacent to what had been Lobengula’s kraal. My husband had gone indoors and left me sitting in the garden alone. Presently a blood- curdling shrieking and yelling, with the barking of dogs and other frightful sounds, reached my ears. “Can it be another native rebellion?” I thought, — horror- stricken at the idea. The noises drew nearer and nearer ; they were hideous enough for any- thing. I felt al- most powerless with fear, but when at last I managed to rouse myself I called to my hus- band, seeking an explanation of the uproar. He laughed re- assuringly. “Tis only the mule- drivers,” he said, “bringing their beasts home to camp. They always make a shocking row about this sort of thing.” I didn’t relish being laughed at, but, as I felt rather ashamed of having shown the white feather at nothing, I was silent. Later I “HOME FROM HOME” “HE DEMANDED THE REMOVAL OF HIS HEADGEAR,” IN RHODESIA. 187 grew rather to like the weird cries of the mule- teers ; they had a cheering effect on one after the loneliness and silence of the veldt. My first real troubles, I think, began with native servants, for, unfortunately, neither my husband nor myself understood the Kaffir language or the native ways, which are peculiar at times, and as our henchmen spoke but indifferent English we were eternally playing at cross - purposes, sometimes with dire results. The consequence was that for many weeks we had quite a “moving community,” so far as servants were concerned. My “boys” would leave during the night without “by your leave” or anything, although I tried every method I could think of to induce them to stay. At last, consulting an experienced friend of ours, I discovered that I was treat- ing them too well, and that in consequence they regarded me with grave suspicion! After that I learned my lesson well, and although 1 was perfectly just with them I was exceedingly severe. However, circumstances came to our aid, and we put an end to these night elope- ments in a rather unexpected but salutary manner. A garden boy, having been paid his wages, volun- teered to remain another month with us. During the night, however, he disappeared, taking with him three other _ ser- vants, and throw- ing the house into the greatest con- fusion. There was nothing to be done, apparently, for the law usually permits the blacks all kinds of liber- ties, and the master must just “grin and bear it.” In this case, however, my hus- band, in a sense, took the law into his own hands. He happened to tide across the

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183 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. veldt some weeks after the boys deserted and espied a native ahead, with his hat pulled down over his eyes. Now, natives are supposed to doff their hats in the presence of a uniform (my husband was an officer of the Police), so he rode towards the man and demanded the removal of his headgear. After some hesitation the native complied with the request, The reason for his reluctance was at once made clear —he was our delinquent servant, the ringleader of the deserters. Two native policemen were called, and he was hauled before the magistrate, who, after listening to the case very attentively, said: “1 think the best thing for you to do, Mr. Redhead, is to take him home with you and deal with him as you think fit.” Accordingly my husband brought the culprit home in his dog-cart. After luncheon punishment was duly inflicted by a white man with strong arms and a good whip, in the presence of our assembled servants, who were very much interested. After the thrashing the culprit was released and sent about his business. The news spread like wildfire, and the majority of our white acquaintances declared we should never get any more servants to come to us. Their predictions were entirely wrong, however, for never afterwards did we have any desertions from our house, and our boys stayed for years with us; the incident had a lasting and salutary effect upon the minds of the blacks. This is quite comprehensible, for they are great admirers of a master mind—and a master hand. Mention of desertion during the night by black boys brings me to a matter of serious and grave importance in connection with Rhodesia. During the last rising in 1897, the only chance the white population in the outside districts had of escaping unmolested was betwixt the hours of darkness and dawn. Many saved their lives in this way, for at that time the blacks: still believed that evil spirits walked abroad during those hours, and not one of them would have dreamed of venturing outside his hut or away from their fires. Unfortunately, this has all been altered. Civilization has taught them differently, and should a rising ever take place again—which is not at all unlikely, for every year one hears rumours of one—where would be the white folks’ chance of flight? The natives no more fear the darkness now than the jackals do. Here is an instance, which has its ludicrous side. A lady we knew became the envy of her many acquaintances because she had secured the services of a ‘marvellous house - boy.” Constantly she sounded his praises, regaling her less fortunate sisters with tales of his many virtues. Nothing came amiss to him ; he could do anything and everything, and was apparently a perfectly trained and well-conducted servant. The culminating point was reached, however, when Mrs. S—— announced to an awestruck group of listeners that he had of his own free will sacrificed his month’s wages to the church. Everyone was aghast. Here was undoubtedly a paragon, a living example to his less generous “white brethren.” His fame spread rapidly. Some weeks after a caller inquired for “Shilling,” the prodigy. Mrs. S——, with painful blushes and visible hesitation, confessed that he had proved a disappointment—-in fact, the police had arrested him on the serious charge of sheep-stealing ! His methods had been unique. After every- one had retired for the night ‘ Shilling” would make for some place where “sheep did congre- gate,” kill one, and remove it to a safe place. Here he would skin it, cut it up into joints, and then sell it to the natives. As they will pay good prices for fresh meat, he was well able to give five pounds to the church as “ conscience money.” ‘This shows how fearless of darkness the natives are, and what civilization sometimes does. The African blacks, at least the Rhodesian races, as a whole are constitutionally ungrateful. You cannot attach a boy to you by any ties of gratitude—he has none. One has ceased to expect it, and should a rising occur you need look for little mercy at their hands. Although you may have had a boy with you from child- hood upwards, and have lavished on him all sorts of kindnesses, yet the probabilities are that he would be the first one to slay you in the event of trouble. Of course, there are isolated cases where boys do show a little gratitude, but they are the exceptions which prove the rule. The blacks are, like monkeys, very imitative ; and if they once see you doing something they think worthy of imitation they will copy it to the best of their ability. An incident that occurred in my own experience will illustrate my meaning. A lady was giving a dinner-party, and had gone to the trouble of preparing the jellies and creams early in the day in order to let them cool. Dinner progressed most successfully ; everything ran smoothly, Then the sweets were brought in; but, to the amazement of the hostess and the undisguised amusement of the guests, all the dainties were smothered with a curious looking yellow powder. The boy was summoned. “What have you done to the jellies, Tom ?” demanded his mistress. He grinned delightedly, quite pleased with himself.

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OUR “HOME FROM HOME” IN RHODESIA. 189 “All right, mistress,” he replied; “flies no good ; me put medicine on to keep um off!” As I said before, all kinds of insects infest the houses, so the housewife sprinkles insect-powder around the shelves to keep them away from the food. The ingenious Tom went one better and put it oz the food! The younger members of that dinner-party made him consume all the tops of the jellies himself, in order to emphasize the lesson. Our boys had the greatest faith in my powers as a physician. I found, by bitter experience, that to give them any decent sort of mixture was a waste of good stuff, and useless. So I used latterly to take the first things handy— mustard, cay- enne, castor-oil, pain - killer, red pepper—and mix them all together. This appalling decoction invari- ably had the desired effect ; it always cured them, they de- clared. The more nauseous the dose the greater their belief in its efficacy. Our experi- ences with snakes were varied and exciting at times, as they were fre- quent and un- pleasant visitors. It was nothing unusual to see one wriggling on the drawing-room floor, and it takes some time and ingenuity to evict them. They are mostly venomous and deadly, belong- ing to the mamba species. They not only bite, but spit, aiming always at the eyes. If this milky saliva touches your skin it burns like a caustic pencil. Should it enter your eyes you are blind for weeks, in dreadful pain, and never properly recover your sight afterwards. I rushed rather heedlessly across the garden “WITH A VELL I SPRANG BACK FROM IT." to the bathroom one day at luncheon-time. It was during the dry season, when snakes will go anywhere for water. There was a sack lying in the doorway, and underneath the door was a space of about two inches. I trod on something soft and wriggly, and felt it squirming with a nasty metallic sort of sensation over my ankle. I realized my danger immediately, and, with a yell, sprang back from it. It was a deadly mamba, measuring close on five feet in length. We shot it, but as it was not quite dead we got a garden- hoe to decapitate it, whereupon the reptile filled its mouth with the milky saliva before described and aimed it at the man killing it. Fortunately, however, it escaped his face. On another Gecasion I was in the veldt cutting flowers for my house. ‘There is a very beautiful bloom which grows on a tree, and has much the appearance of apple-blossom, but lasts much longer. I was collecting some of this, humming all the time and cutting from the boughs as I held them down, when suddenly a little Irish terrier that was with me started barking furiously. Still holding on to the bough, I glanced down at the dog to see what was disturbing her. Seeing she was angered at something in the tree, I naturally expected to see a cat or stoat hiding in the boughs, but after peering for some time I failed to discover anything, and so continued snipping at the blossoms. Sud- denly, to my horror, I found a snake coiled round the very bough I was holding! Its body projected about a foot from, the bough around

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190 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. which it had wound itself, its head being at the most but five or six inehes from the hand holding the bough. As it was of the same colour as the bark of the tree I had failed to notice it before, although my watchful little companion had done so for some time, Feeling somewhat unnerved, I hurried back to the homestead and gota gun. When shot, the snake was found to measure over five feet, and was one of the deadliest of its kind. I can only suppose that the snake had been temporarily hypnotized by the humming noise I was making; and, although a good many people will smile at the statement, I firmly believe that the reason I escaped being bitten so many times whilst in Africa was because of the habit I had of singing to myself when alone. To vary the monotony of life we frequently went on camping trips, re- maining out for a week or more, according to our inclination or the state of the weather. Sometimes we rode, at others we took mules and wagon and went sull deeper into the wilds. On these trips one learns how to rough it, and also how to make the best of the very worst materials. Once, when I had ridden on some distance ahead of my husband, a lioness sud- denly walked quietly out of the long grass on to the road and stood eyeing me curiously. It hadn’t much chance of studying me, however, for quicker than thought I wheeled my scared and almost unman- ageable horse and went flying down the road, shouting, “A lion | a lion !” My husband saw it was no joke, and in a moment he, too, was flying for all he was worth, for we were both unarmed, and a lion is an ugly customer to in- terfere with unless you have a trusty rifle and are a good shot. It was on one of these trips that I lost my dear little Irish terrier. We were at the Khami ruins, and after scrambling down the rocks we came to the river-bed of the Khami. Here there was a small pool, in which our dogs had a delightful bath, but Sheelah, poor little thing, scenting more fun, darted off to a larger pool not far away, followed by the more sedate pointer. It was the last we ever saw of the terrier. After calling for some time, we wandered sadly back to camp, Judy, the pointer, whimpering and crying at our heels. ‘There was little doubt as to poor Sheelah’s fate, for the natives told us afterwards that the pool was infested with crocodiles. My first experience of a thunderstorm in - Rhodesia was not altogether a pleasant one. It was just the beginning of the rainy season ; the weather had been cloudy and threatening for days, but we thought it would hold up for a little while longer, and consequently I drove

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OUR into the distant town to do some shopping. This took me some time, but at length one of the men in the shop came up to me and warned me of a coming storm. I jumped into the cart, whipped up the horse, and went off towards home at a good rattling pace. The clouds at this time were banking up rapidly from two different quarters. I had not gone far when the two storms met with a terrific burst of thunder exactly overhead. Only those who know the “HOME FROM HOME” IN RHODESIA. igt would be absolutely unfordable, and would sweep away horse, cart, and everything, should I attempt to cross it in that condition. - I could hear the stream rushing and boiling as I came near the bank, and a good volume of water was already pouring down. My horse snorted and objected, but with a smart cut of the whip I urged him in. After a flounder or two we teached the opposite bank, and were safe from that danger. ‘The veldt roads were “OMY HORSE SNORTED AND OlJECTED, BUT 1 URGED HUM IN. violence and danger of a tropical storm can appreciate my feelings. Each flash of lightning was accompanied by an awe-inspiring sound like the cracking of huge bullock-whips, and the booming of the thunder shook the very earth under the cart and frightened the horse almost out of his senses. There was nothing for it, however, but to go on, as there was no place of shelter between me and home, and to shelter under the trees would have been more dangerous still. I could scarcely see, for the blinding rain whipped my face cruelly. Inwardly I prayed that I might reach the spruit before it became flooded, as I knew it must do ere long, when it simply young “streams, through which we struggled goodness knows how, but at last the homestead hove in sight. The servants were on the look-out for me, scared almost to death themselves with fright. After that day’s experience I was never really afraid of a thunderstorm. One meets with so many out-of-the-way adventures in a new country like- Rhodesia that one becomes almost indif- ferent to them. The free, unconventional life, rigorous as it is, is enjoyable enough for a year or two, but eventually it tells on the constitution. When it does, the only remedy is to get away imme- diately to fresh scenes and pastures new.

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The Captain’s Bride. By T. Cave-Nortu. For the authenticity of this remarkable real-life romance the author vouches absolutely. It is a tragic manifestation of that strange phenomenon known as telepathy, and raises a host of questions to which at present human knowledge can supply no satisfactory answer. HE following story, which was told me by a friend intimately acquainted with the family chiefly concerned, is } one which raises the question as to whether the ocean offers an en- vironment peculiarly favourable to the mani- festation of that strange mental phenomenon known as telepathy, or whether it is not specially the sea, but the minds of seamen which, long inured to solitary communings with Nature, afford the temperamental conditions necessary for the reception of such impressions. There are many facts which go to prove that such is the case. I remember, many years ago, being told by a Liverpool man of a painful instance of the kind which came under his own notice. The captain of a ship, while making his “easting ” in the Indian Ocean on the way to India, had one night a very vivid dream in which he saw a house on fire. Either from something he saw, or from the impression created upon his mind, he believed it was his own home that had suffered. From the first port he touched at he sent a letter to his wife, telling her of his dream, and expressing his fears that something untoward had happened. After his arrival at Calcutta he received the news that his home had been destroyed by fire, as he had dreamed, and that some members of his family had perished in the flames! Full particu- lars of the case, my informant told me, were given in the Liverpool Mercury at the time, and subsequently the painful story was completed by the addition of the fact that the captain had received warning of the disaster in a dream or vision at the exact time it happened, allowing for the difference of longitude ! This strange instance of telepathy was very forcibly recalled to my mind a month or two ago, when the following striking story was narrated to me. The scene of its leading incidents was Grimsby, and Mr. Osborn, the father of the young lady who is the heroine of the story, was a well-known resi- dent in the town and for many years connected with its staple trade. Maud Osborn was not quite twenty years of age, and was an extremely pretty, well-educated, and amiable girl. At the time at which my story opens frequent dances were given at the Royal Hotel, one of the lead- ing houses of the kind in Grimsby. These “TO ONE OF THEM, CAPTAIN OLSEN, MAUD WAS INTRODUCED AT A BALL.”

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THE CAPTAIN’S BRIDE. 193 functions were attended by ladies and gentlemen of many of the foremost bourgeois families, as well as by the officers of vessels lying in port. Among these, of course, were not a few foreigners, and to one of them, Captain Olsen, Maud was introduced at a ball, and became almost immediately deeply interested in him. Her father, on hearing of the attachment, was not by any means pleased, and tried to turn his daughter's mind against Olsen by representing to her how little she or anybody else in the town knew about him, and how unsatisfactory it would be to be the wife of a man of whose origin they knew nothing and who must neces- sarily be away from home months at a time. All these considerations, however, though pressed warmly home by a father’s devoted affection, were of no avail. Nothing short of an absolute command would keep the young lady from the dances where she met Captain Olsen, and to this extreme the good-natured father did not feel inclined to go. He knew the captain’s stay in ths town must come to an end before long, and with his departure he hoped his daughter's infatuation would soon cease. How this worked out we shall presently see. After a somewhat lengthened stay in port, Captain Olsen sailed on a voyage the ultimate destination of which was New Zealand. When he had gone Maud went to no more dances, but settled down quietly, and to all appear- ance very contentedly, to a humdrum sort of existence very different from that to which she had of late been accustomed. There was nothing in this calm acquiescence in what was considered the inevitable ending of Maud’s little love episode to causé uneasiness to anyone. ‘Though she was quiet she was not dull; though on the whole more silent and sedate than had been her wont, she was far from being uncheerful. One morning, however, between five and six months after Captain Olsen’s departure, the young lady, to the intense grief of her friends, was found dead in bed. ‘here was absolutely nothing to indicate that she had died other than a natural death. She had retired the previous evening apparently in her usual health; a younger sister who slept with her was in no way disturbed during the night, but when she awoke early in the morning she found Maud dead, and, of course, alarmed the household. Medical assistance was at once summoned ; but though the doctors agreed that the poor girl had been dead fully three hours, all they could say as to the cause of death was that it had occurred from heart failure. This was the verdict returned at the inquest which followed. Altogether the circumstances were so extraordinary that, com- bined with the local prominence of the family, Vol. xvii.—25. they caused quite a sensation in the town, and the funeral became in consequence almost a public affair. Naturally the sad event was talked about for days, and even for weeks afterwards, but gradually it lapsed from the public mind, and would soon have been wholly forgotten had not a new circumstance occurred to reawaken and even deepen the interest in poor Maud’s sad end. The circumstance in question was that some little while after the unfortunate girl’s death, when her wardrobe was being overhauled, a wedding-ring was found in the pocket of one of her dresses ; and then, on further search being made, her “ marriage lines” were found. She had been privately married to Captain Olsen just prior to his sailing on his long and tedious voyage ! “Poor Maud!” was now the cry on many a lip. “Poor Maud! To think that she should not have lived to see her lover-husband come home again!” And many were the hearts, too, that stirred in sympathy with the unlucky hus- band, wondering how he would take it when he heard of his grievous loss. For there were several people who, though they did not know of the secret marriage, were well aware how deeply Captain Olsen had been in love with his girl-bride. Thus the talk of this romantic affair re-awoke in all its force, and much speculation was rife as to how soon and where Captain Olsen would learn of his all-too-early loss. Then came the third and last surprise in this moving drama of real life. It came in the shape of a telegram from the mate of the ss. Vorge— Olsen’s ship—addressed to the proprietor of the Royal Hotel, at which the dances before- mentioned had taken place, and where the captain had lived during his stay in port. The message announced that Captain Olsen had been washed off the bridge of the vessel and drowned during a storm in the Indian Ocean. The position of the ship when the accident happened was given as longitude seventy-one degrees east and latitude twenty degrees south, and the time as a few minutes before eight in the morning. It was surmised that the mate’s reason for telegraphing the news of the captain’s death was that he had been let into the secret of the marriage, and, as he did not know the wife’s address, he took this indirect way of letting her know of the untimely fate that had befallen her husband. Naturally, the news the telegram contained was immediately conveyed to the father of poor Maud. It was then discovered—due allowance being made for difference of longitude—that the time, at which Captain) Olsen was drowned

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194 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. coincided, as nearly as could be calculated, with the exact hour at which his wife died, according to the medical evidence ! It was about six in the morning when the younger sister found Maud lying dead by her “THE MESSAGE ANNOUN side, and the doctors were of opinion that she had been dead about three hours when they were called in, which was very soon after six. Now, the husband having been drowned a few minutes before 8 a.m., allowing for the difference in the time between seventy-one degrees -east and Grimsby,* where the wife breathed her last—that is, four hours forty-four minutes—would make the hour of his death, reduced to English time, about a quarter to three in the morning. *Grimsby lies as nearly as possible on the meridian of Greenwich. b THAT CAPTAIN BRIDGE OF THE VESSEL From this strange coincidence the question arises: Did the husband’s agonized thought of his poor wife, as he was swept from the bridge of the Norge to his watery grave, come to her in a dream as she lay in her innocent sleep and kill her with its terrible shock? Or did she awaken for a moment to realize the terror of OLSEN HAD BEEN WASHED OFF THE AND DROWNED, what had appeared to her in a dream? The question is an overwhelmingly interesting one, but who shall answer it? It is to-day acknow- ledged by some of the best minds that telepathy is as much an established fact as telegraphy, though we are ignorant of the conditions of its manifestation, and hardly know where to begin the work of investigation. By watching and weighing evidence, however, we may in time arrive at an understanding of the laws governing these _ interesting phenomena.

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Across Mexico on Horseback. | | By Gitson WILLETS. The continuation of this absorbing account of a unique journey—a twelve-hundred-mile trip across the ranchlands, mountains, and deserts of Mexico, traversing a wilderness but seldom visited by travellers, In this instalment Mr. Willets graphically describes the adventures of his party in the country of the bloodthirsty Yaquis, the trailing-down of the miscreants who caused a prairie fire, and the strange tragedy that happened at the “ Vanishing Waters.” IVE HUNDRED miles from the starting-point of our long horseback ride across Northern Mexico we camped on the edge of the country of the Yaquis, the only Indian tribe remaining unconquered in the republic. In the stillness of the night, as we sat around our camp fire, one of our guides suddenly ex- claimed: “Listen! ‘That’s the tramp, tramp of Mexican cavalry on the march.” Presently, into the circle of light formed by our blazing logs rode a number of Mexican army officers. They dismounted, their horses were led away by their men, and, after cere- monious greetings, they were invited to our mess-tent for supper. Simultaneously, all around our camp, tiny fires were lighted, each revealing a group of troopers. Thus we were completely surrounded. “ Yaquis,” explained the officers, laconically, when we inquired the reason for this unexpected visit. The semi-civilized Yaquis have for years, at irregular intervals, made war on Mexicans and Americans alike who invaded the country bordering the Yaqui River in the State of Sonora. This region is rich in gold and silver mines, and the Mexican Government long ago granted concessions to Mexican and American companies for the developinent of its mineral resources. These concessions, the Yaquis claim, are contrary to a treaty made between them- selves and the Mexican Government; so from time to time the Indians have gone on the war- path by way of protest. At the very time we were in Mexico President Diaz decided that the Yaqui wars must end, and that to accomplish such end the campaign against them must practically become one of extermination.* Accordingly he sent six regiments of the regular army into the Yaqui country to kill, or to trans- port to the deadly swamps of Yucatan, as many as possible of the six thousand remaining Yaquis. * A full account of this extraordinary war appeared in our issue for November, 1905.—Eb. II. As we approached the Yaqui country we heard of all sorts of atrocities committed by the tribes- men—of attacks on unprotected ranches and the murder of whole families ; of the capture of wagon-trains and the massacre of the teamsters. As for ourselves, we had been told by Mexican Government officials that it would be better to avoid the Yaqui country, though if we insisted upon passing through the war-zone a military escort would be furnished. This escort had now arrived, and at the single word ‘“ Yaquis,” uttered by the captain at our mess-table, we understood why our camp was now surrounded by Mexican soldiery. ‘The Yaquis were near. What a story that captain told! Four young Americans, prospectors, belonging to prominent families, had been ambushed by the Yaquis and taken prisoners. The soles of the poor fellows’ feet had been sliced off, leaving the tender nerves exposed, and in this condition the captives had been driven across the burning sand of the desert till they fell and died of pain and exhaustion. The band of Yaquis guilty of this atrocity were now in retreat to the west of our camp, and while one troop of cavalry started in pursuit, another troop had come to convoy the “ Americanos,” as they called us. Only a few days before tris the four hapless young prospectors, whose bodies now lay in the desert, had visited our camp and had even travelled some distance with us as our guests. Then they had pushed on into the danger-zone in search of the famous “Lost Mine.” Now, “Lost Mine” lay somewhere near the Yaqui River, in a peach orchard planted by the Americans who once worked the rich gold deposits. The Yaquis had come and killed the owners and workers, all save five. Before leaving the mine the five survivors carefully sealed up the opening with rocks. A year later they came to re-open the mine, but could not find it. ‘The following year they again sought the mine, and this time they, too, were murdered by Yaquis. The Indians -ever since had

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196 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. guarded the approach to the peach orchard in which the “ Lost Mine ” lay, killing on sight any stranger who ventured near. Meantime the Mexican Government had offered a large reward to anyone who could re-discover “ Lost Mine.” It was that mine and that reward which our friends, the prospectors, were seeking when they were ambushed by the Indians. Despite these disturbing conditions our own party crossed the Yaqui River and the Yaqui country in safety. But woe to any marauding Yaquis who fell into the hands of the Mexican troops that were scouring the country! Many such Indians, being adjudged guilty of being on the war- path, were, we were told, hung forthwith to the limbs of trees as a warning to any of their tribe who passed that way. One day we came to an adobe hut where lived an In- dian who declared that he was a peace- able farmer, and that he was not a Yaqui at all, but one of the tribe of Yumas. As his hair hung in shocks on each side of his head, half con- cealing his face, in- stead of being tightly bound ina bandanna, as is customary with the Yaqui on the war- path, our escort left him in peace. With his two squaws we photographed this “buck,” though not without a preliminary parley in which he in- sisted upon attiring himself in “ paleface clothes.” His squaws, how- ever, made no such fuss about being pictured in their native garb, as shown in the photograph. When the “ buck ” was told that if he was caught away from his farm, or with a gun in his posses- sion, he would be sent to the swamps of Yucatan, he said nothing, but his squaws screeched open defiance, declaring that they would go to Yucatan with their “ man.” Faithful, indeed, are the wives of men in the Yaqui country. Often they follow their husbands to the place of execution, and when the execu- From a) AN INDIAN FARMER AND HIS TWO SQUAWS. tioners have disappeared the women cut down the body and bury it ina grave dug with their own hands. We found the people of the Mexican village of Toledo plunged deep. in grief. Here had occurred the most shocking tragedy we had yet heard of in the Yaqui war. The a/ca/de (mayor) invited us to his house, though it was a house of mourning. He showed usa lady's jacket. It was loaded with gold lace, after the fashion of the coat of a Mexican army officer. “The bullet entered here,” said the a/a/de, sorrowfully, pointing to a jagged hole in the left side of the little garment. “It pierced her heart. Her mother, my wife, was shot at the same time. Yesterday we buried them.” We learned that a few nights before our arrival the a/ca/de had given a modest ban- quet, the guests gathering around a table on the flat roof —a general custom in that warm country. Now, Toledo is built at the foot of a moun- tain which rises abruptly at the back of the town. An enemy who could get a foothold on the mountain-side could easily train his rifle on any house in the town. The al/calde’s house was the most prominent in that community, and when his roof was illuminated for the banquet it of course offered an easy mark for the skulking Yaquis, who, from their place on the mountain, fired into the party. Bullets liter- ally rained upon the roof and into the midst of the unsuspecting dinner-party. Four persons fell dead from their chairs, including the adca/de’s wife and daughter. The horrified survivors retreated into the house, carrying the dead with them. Next day the soldiers captured a band of twenty Yaquis, presumably the ones guilty of the dastardly deed that had plunged the town into mourning. The jail in which the, prisoners were con- (Photo,

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 197 fined-stood on one side of a walled compound or yard, and contained fully a hundred Yaquis besides the twenty just mentioned. In the compound the prisoners were allowed to rove, run races, and hold their peculiar dances. For our benefit they gave the tribal dance—the “buck and doe” dance. The movements of the dancers were really graceful, representing, as they did, the move- ments of deer in spring. The men were dressed in a blanket wound round the waist and tied around each leg. On their ankles were many rings of dried seed-pods, which rattled as they first spread among her people they joined her in a fanatical belief that she would lead them to victory in a battle with Mexican troops, and she actually captained the fanatics in an engagement with our soldiers. Her warriors were routed, however, and she was taken prisoner and exiled by President Diaz. This year she stole back to her tribesmen and again incited the fanatics to take up arms to free themselves from the yoke which she insists the Mexican Government has placed upon them. We sent troops to disperse them, and, as you see, she is again a prisoner, and again she will be exiled. She is called VAQUI PRISONERS OF WAK GIVING THEIR TRIBAL DANCE IN THE COURTYARD OF THE JAIL, From a Photo. moved. On their heads the men who repre- sented the bucks had _ skull-caps; while those who represented the does wore grotesque masks at the back of their heads. As a musical instru- ment, each carried a rattle consisting of a gourd filled with pebbles. Suddenly, as we watched, this artistic dance came to an abrupt end, and we were witnesses of an incident that was as spectacular as the dance, and dramatic besides. Outside the walls there was a great hubbub— the jingle of spurs, the tramp of many hoofs, and the shouted orders of men—and we thought that at least a hundred Yaqui prisoners were to be brought in. But when the wall-gates swung open there marched in only one soldier, in charge of a single prisoner—-a young Indian girl! The dancers gathered about her with evident curiosity, until one of their number seemed to recognise her, and said something to his com- rades. Then all fell back respectfully to allow the new prisoner to pass into the prison building. “That girl,” said the captain of our escort, “is an educated Yaqui, a kind of Joan of Arc of the tribe. We are very glad to see her here, for she has often inspired the Yaquis to go on the war-path. As she claims to possess some sort of divine power, the Indians flock about her wherever she appears. When her fame was Santa ‘Teresa. On your way through the country beyond here you will be able to visit the adobe house where Santa Teresa lived. Her father, a Yaqui chief, was shot by our soldiers, and she has ever since shown herself determined to avenge her father’s death. In her hut you will find some queer trophies.” The day we started to complete the crossing of the Yaqui country, accompanied, as before, by the troop of cavalry, we asked the captain: “What about the Yaquis who killed our pro- spector friends? Have they been captured ?” The captain shook his head. And I should add here that it was not until we reached Juarez, in the extreme north of Mexico, that we learned the fate of the miscreants who had tortured our friends to death. There, at Juarez, we saw a band of Yaqui “prisoners of war” and ordinary Mexican prisoners marching between two files of soldiers. In this band were the Indians who had ambushed the young prospectors, whose terrible death was still being discussed in the newspapers in the United States. The murderers had been captured while ‘attempting to escape across the Rio Grande into New Mexico. When we saw them they were repairing roads—while awaiting transportation to Yucatan. Perhaps some were shot, but that, any,dctually met this fate we never learned:

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198 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) In the northern part of the Yaqui country we entered a region once inhabited by mound builders. Here were ancient mounds of earth, some square, some rectangular in shape, in which lived a prehistoric tribe. Some of the mounds were forty feet high, and many were several hundred feet in circumference. The strangest features of these reminders of an aboriginal people were the huts of the living standing on top of some of the ancient mounds. Thus on the roofs, as one might say, of the homes of a people who were possibly the remote ancestors of the present generation Mexican Indians were dwelling in “ modern ” structures. Of course, our scientists again began digging. Our ethnologist gained the confidence of the mound people, and they treated him with veneration —all because he handled bones with the nonchalance of one of their own “ medicine men”! The natives believed, in fact, that any man who was willing to incur the responsibility of taking skeletons out of their graves must be possessed of supernatural powers. I accompanied the professor on one of his digging expeditions. The natives stood about, watching him in awe. Over his nose and mouth he tied a handkerchief, whereupon the natives fell back in fear, probably thinking the white “ medicine man” was about to perform a miracle. The handkerchief, however, was merely to protect himself from being choked by the fine, corrosive dust which rose in clouds with every movement of his spade. He A PARTY OF CAPTURED YAQUIS BEING MARCHED OUT TO WORK ON THE RUADS. explained that the ground contained saltpetre, and that corpses mummi- fied directly they were buried in it, remaining without change for hun- dreds of years. We found no bones that morn- ing, sO we ac- cepted the offer of one of the In- dians to guide us to a hut some miles south of the mounds, where lived, he said, “Santa Teresa.” Santa Teresa! The name seemed familiar to us. Finally, we re- membered where we had heard it before : Santa Teresa was the Yaqui Joan of Arc. Our guide put a finger over his lips to indicate that we were to say nothing within hearing of the other mound people, but were to follow him as if starting forth on the chase. It was twilight when we reached Santa ‘Teresa’s hut. It stood by itself, deep in the forest, but all around it were signs — such as the ashes of countless fires—that many men had encamped there. We went inside the hut. Where were the trophies of which the escort captain had spoken? Apparently the abode of the “saint” had been looted, presumably by the soldiery, for no trophies could we see. Just then my ethnological friend emitted a . cry of joy, pouncing on what at first sight appeared to be a lariat of horsehair, such as we had often seen in Mexico. “ But it’s not horsehair,” cried the professor, jubilantly ; “it’s human hair, and it’s fully fifty feet long! Moreover, it is braided with women’s hair.” And he pointed out the dark tresses of the brunette, mingled with brown and auburn and, in many places, yellow. Also there were traces of grey and even white locks in that strange lariat. We estimated that it contained the hair of at least thirty women. My friend wanted to carry this gruesome relic with him, but our guide shook his head in alarm, and even snatched the lariat from the professor’s hand and threw it into a corner. So frightened) was thatIndian at what, we knew [Phote.

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not—that he would not sleep at the hut that night, though it was now dark, but insisted upon beginning the ride back to hisvillage of mounds. What was the story of that rope of women’s hair? When we re- turned to camp and told the Mexican cap- tain what we had found in Teresa’s hut, he burst out, “Why, that’s pro- bably the only lariat of the kind and length in the world! Teresa’s father once made a raid ‘on the Mormon settlers above here, and brought away the scalps of those the raiding party killed. The old chief kept for his own use the scalps of the women — and now we know that he worked the hair into a lariat. That is probably the most remarkable collection of human hair ever brought to- gether. “No wonder that mound man of yours ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. THE ENTHUSIASTIC DUCK-HUNTEE TUME SCARED AWAY THE ENTIRE WHOSE EXTRAORDINARY Cos+ PULATION OF A VILLAGE, From a Ph 199 strangle you while you sleep.” Soon after that we left the Yaqui country, after a formal farewell to our escort, and rode on into that part of Sonora where dwell only peaceable peons. Near Casas Grandes we came to the Mormon settlement where ‘Te- resa’s father had made his raid and secured the scalps for his unique lariat. On our arrival in that thriving com- munity—the place had progressed wonderfully since the scalping days —a Mormon elder drove out in his wagon to meet us. On the seat behind him were two women. “Gentlemen,” he said, as he brought his team to a standstill, “my name’s Peffer, and these’’—jerking his thumb towards the two women—“are the Mrs. Peffers.” In this well-watered region we had excellent would not let you take it away or stay where it was,’ the captain added. “The mound people have a superstition that the hairs of a human head are living things, and that, as such, the hairs will coil themselves about your neck and duck-shooting. One of our party—a sportsman from Galveston, in Texas—determined to get a “record” bag of mallards. He accordingly arrayed himself in rubber boots that reached to his thigh, and covered his body and head in an

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200 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. improvised coat and helmet of grass. Thus fearsomely attired he constituted a living “blind”—a “blind” being usually a clump of grass in which hunters hide themselves. Our ambitious duck-shooter, thus disguised, was the cause of the temporary depopulation of an entire peon village. The village was the usual cluster of shacks of tice-straw, standing on the edge of the lake where the ducks congregated. When a friend and I rode into the place later in the day we were puzzled at not finding a soul about—even the women and children had disappeared. Then we remembered the Galveston man with his rubber legs and grass-grown body. We decided that the ignorant peons must have believed him an appa- rition and fled. At last, in one of the shacks, we found a group of women and children. They were remarkably well- dressed for peons. We asked them why the village was aban- doned. “Listen, sefior, said the best-looking of the women, ex- citedly, as the reports of a gun came from the lake. “There’s a mad man out there —and our people have gone away. That man can’t shoot. He shoots crazy — right - into our homes—he will kill us presently.” We asked her why she, too, had not fled. ¥ ” Thereupon she told = From a) “CMIS NAME IS LUNATIC,” THEY SAID.” us that she and her sisters were the only ones in that village who had been to school, and that she could spell the name of the duck-shooter. ‘It is lunatic, sefior,” she said. “But we have not fright, so we remain here. We have only disgust.” When we told our Galveston marksman that he had depopulated a whole village, not because of his costume, but because of the bird-shot which he was distributing in such prodigal fashion about the landscape, his anger was mighty. This was not the only time the natives of Northern Mexico thought the “ Americanos” mad. Some of us left the main party for a few days and joined a New York millionaire and his guests on a trip to the wonderful gold-mines of Chihuahua. We travelled thence by rail in a special train of sumptuous private cars and a baggage-car, in which were two huge French auto- mobiles. After inspecting the mines we started out in the motor-cars to watch the “round-up” of a vast herd of cattle on an adjacent ranch. The vagueros that accompanied us—on horses, of course—told one another that we were mad, and advised us to take along a four-mule stage- coach, It was well for us that we took their advice. The greatest enemy of a motor-car in the prairie is the best friend of man and beast— water. The prairie we were to cross was seamed with streams and spotted with wide-spreading marshes. Our ma- chines got over the prairie itself at a forty- miles-an-hour gait— straight to water and into water, with the evident purpose of sticking for ever to water. The four mules were hitched to one of. the helpless cars by a rope, in an attempt to get it free from the clutch of the enemy, but the rope snapped and the frightened mules ran away pell-mell across the prairie. It was a sight worth seeing to watch the vagueros in pursuit. Soon, how- ever, the runaways were “roped” and led back to the stage, in which we finished our journey to the scene of the round- up, leaving two hapless French drivers to wrestle with their tempers and the two motor-cars. Twelve thousand head of cattle were in the round-up, and round and round this vast herd rode a score or more of vagueros and American cow-punchers, their task being to keep the beasts in a compact mass. Other cowmen were “ cut- ting out” steers—separating them from the main herd for shipment to market—and all were per- forming the usual feats of roping and riding that have been described time and again in stories of the Western plains. One cow-puncher, however, did a “stunt” that was new to all of us—a trick that had made him famous throughuut the cattle country of Mexico. THE FAMILY WHO DID NOT FLY AT THE DUCK-SHOOTER'S ADVENT— (Photo.

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 201 THE PARTY TRIED TO USE TWO BIG MOYOR-CARS ON THE PRAIRIE, BUT THEY SIUCK IN THE STREAMS AND HAD TO bE ABANDONED. From a) He was called “ Bulldog,” and the name was well chosen, as he proved by the sport in which he alone engaged. Of all the cow-punchers he was the only one who made a “specialty” of throwing a steer by using only Ais teeth | He would gallop alongside a running steer, jump from the back of his flying horse to that of the steer, grasp the beast by the horns, and twist its head in such a way as to bring the animal to a standstill. “ Bulldog” then continued to twist the steer’s head till he got its nose so high in the air that he was able to lean over and grip its upper lip with his teeth. Next, letting go of the horns and falling suddenly backward, he brought the steer down on its side with its head twisted more than half-way round, the man still gripping the upper lip of the animal with his 5 em teeth. The cow- | puncher was shaken and bruised, of course, but he suffered no serious injury. As “Bulldog,” after accomplishing this amazing feat, went limping across the prairie to climb pain- fully into the saddle, we noticed, on a hill: top in the distance, two horsemen stand- ing in relief against the cloudless sky, like equestrian statues. They were members of the most fearless body of men in Mexico, the Rurales, or rural police. The Vol. xvii.—26. TWO OF THE RURALES, THE FAMOUS MOUNTKD FOLICE OF MEXICO. From a Photo. (Photo. Rurales have made it possible for even the solitary traveller to traverse the wildest parts of Mexico in absolute safety. No matter what distance we happened to be from civi- lization, we came across them during our long ride, patrolling their districts. Within an hour after we made each new camp, no matter where, a couple of Rurales—they always travel in pairs —wouid ride up to assure us that we might call upon them at any moment for help, as they or their comrades were riding constantly within hearing of a rifle-shot. Even in the Yaqui country, except during an uprising of the Indians, the Rurales afford all the protection required. The two Rurales who had appeared on the hilltop rode slowly towards the round-up to tell us, when they arrived, of an amazing story OF tn 8 of revenge and crime, S2F > | for the perpetrators - * “ » of which all the Rurales in Northern Mexico were search- ing. It should first be explained that on the ranges of the South- Western United States and Mexico in- termittent war has been waged for years between the cattle- men and the sheep- men. Sheep play such havoc with a grazing ground, in a single passing of a flock, that cattle can- not feed there for years, to come. So thé) cattlemen deter- as et

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202 THE mined long ago to drive out the sheepmen, while the sheepmen have been equally deter- mined to stay. Hence feuds have ensued between particular cattle and sheep “ outfits,” neither side hesitating to shoot their enemies dead on sight. The fugitives whom the Rurales now sought were American sheepmen who had committed a deed which, on the plains, is deemed far worse than horse-stealing or direct murder. As the result of the act of the guilty ones, more than a score of men and women had lost their lives, many homes. had been wiped out, and a vast amount of property destroyed. ‘lhe sheep- men had started a prairie fire, than which nothing in Nature holds more horrors or more grandeur. Merely because of a grudge against a certain cattle “outfit,” the sheepmen had set fire to the prairie grass, and its flames had not only de- stroyed the herd of cattle (which was the main object of the incendiaries) but, rising in walls often thirty feet high, had also swept the plains of the American State of Colorado for hundreds of miles, destroying every- thing in their path, devas- tating a whole county. The guilty sheepmen, hearing that the crime had been traced to them and that they were to be lynched if caught, fled to Mexico. ‘These were the fugitives that the two Ru- rales who joined us at the round-up were seeking. I thought no more of their story at the time, for after the round-up we left our millionaire host and started on the return journey to the camp of our own hunting party. As we approached the camp we were surprised to see not merely the usual two Rurales, but ten or twelve such policemen. They were seated around WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. bagged those men and the boy. Those chaps are the sheep-herders that set fire to the prairie up Colorado way—and now the Rurales are taking them to the Rio Grande to hand them over to the first American who claims them. They will be hanged, you may be sure—all but the boy.” And on our return north we learnt that the six miscreants had actually been hanged on one cottonwood tree by infuriated citizens who had lost their all in the holocaust of the prairie. Our next camp was in the State of Chihuahua, where are neither ranches nor ranges, but, instead, a large number of gold and silver mines. Many of the mines were being worked in a most primitive fashion. Out of the pits, or holes, or canyons, as the case might be, naked peons carried the rock-ore to the surface on their backs. The way the backs of these burden-bearers were loaded with rock was extra- ordinary. A cowhide pouch, as large as a rail- way mail-bag, was filled with rock, and the bag suspended from the peon’s head by a rope, the bulk of the weight being sustained by the forehead, as shown in the photo- graph. Then still more rocks were piled upon the filled bag, the peon’s back being protected by a leather apron. Loaded in such a way that to lessen the steady tension of the rope would mean a broken neck, the peon climbed a ladder consisting of a piece of mining timber into which rude steps had been hewn. One misstep, and the man would be carried by the weight of ! rock to a horrible death ‘in the pit below. Among these primitive miners, we were told, were some Yaqui Indians. ‘There- upon we remarked that we had supposed all the Yaquis were on the war- path. a camp fire, and not far 4% INDIAN CARRYING ORE FROM THE MINES—" ONE atin “Not all,” said the : STEN, AND THE MAN WOULD BE CARIUED BY THE WEIGHT . nn off were six men and a OF KOCK TO A HOKRIBLE DEATH mine - owner. But the boy, all with their hands From a Photo. Mexican Government tied behind them, and . each fastened to a tree by the same lariat that bound his hands. I asked one of our friends, who came out to meet us, what it all meant. “You've missed a lot of excitement,” he said. “We all helped the Rurales in a man-hunt and has recently forbidden mine-owners to employ Yaquis in future, so that we shall have to dismiss those who are working here. The reason for the Government's order is that one working Yaqui means three fighting Yaquis, fortheeworking Yaqui gives his wages

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 203 to his tribe to buy ammunition. Without money the Yaquis cannot get bullets, so the Government has evidently decided that the Yaqui treasury is now the strategic point of attack.” One day a young mining engineer, recently graduated from Chepultepec University, came to our camp on a visit. “Sefiors,” he said, “I should like to show you my silver-mine at the disappearing river.” “Disappearing river?” we echoed, in surprise. He told us then of a strange river in that region that disappears utterly, dropping seemingly straight down into the bowels of the earth over the edge of a bottomless abyss. Where this river goes to or whether it reappears on the surface no man knows. Mexican engineers have for years tried in vain to solve the mystery of “Vanishing Waters,” as the Indians call this remarkable stream. Perhaps it reappears on the surface in the form of a spring hundreds of miles away from the point at which it drops into the earth. Even experts in such matters can only guess. When next day we visited the young en- gineer’s silver-mine by the “ Vanishing Waters ” we little thought that-a tragedy was soon to occur there. As the river neared the point where it vanished it ran between precipitous rocks in a kind of little canyon, where it became a whirling, raging rapid. “Who falls in there,” remarked the engineer, gravely, “is a doomed man.” ‘The engineer believed that he could harness the rapids for power for his mine, and had, indeed, practically completed the work. In a day or two, therefore, he would, he said, celebrate his achievement by welcoming his sweetheart, who was to visit the mine with a hunting party from the city of Mexico. On the day that the bride-to-be was to arrive all of our party rode over to the mine by the “Vanishing Waters” to take part in the promised picnic. Imagine our disappointment when we were informed, on our arrival at the mine, that though the girl and her party had arrived, yet her lover was not there to meet her, having disappeared unaccountably. A search-party was organized to look for him, and with that party I engaged in the man-hunt along the shore of the disappearing river. One of the mine foremen said that at certain periods it was necessary to post a watchman at the rapids to give warning of the rising of the river, thus giving time to save certain machinery at the mine. It was possible, the foreman thought, that the engineer himself had watched at the rapids the night before and had fallen in. The next moment we were certain that he had fallen in, for on the brink of the canyon lay his sombrero and his pistol. Sorrowfully we went back to the mine and made our report. ‘Then we went away, for we simply could not remain to witness the frenzied grief of the lost man’s sweetheart. Thinking that the incident was closed so far as we were concerned, we returned to our own camp. At nightfall, however, the foreman who had led the search-party rode into our camp, his horse showing signs of having been ridden at breakneck speed. He told us that the heart- broken girl had insisted upon being taken to the spot where her lover had disappeared. There she had found a bit of paper on which was written something in a foreign language, which she could not read. ‘The foreman had the paper with him and handed it to our doctor, begging him to translate it if, as he thought, the writing was in English, in order that he, the foreman, might hasten back with the message it contained. Why that document was written in English, by the way, instead of in the Spanish that his sweetheart could read, we could not understand. It was the last earthly message of that clever young engineer whom we had last seen so full of life and joyful anticipation. The doctor read it aloud and I Lastily copied it. This is what it said—as tragic a human document as I have ever encountered :— “ As the sun rises on what was to have been a happy day for me I write this. I shall vanish with the ‘Vanishing Waters’—completely and for ever. In the night—in the moonlight—I felt and saw a horrible something creeping up my leg. It was the deadly tarantula. The slightest move- ment of my leg would mean my death. Slowly, stealthily, my hand crept to my pistol-holster and withdrew the weapon. With hardly a per- ceptible movement I aimed at the creeping thing and fired. But the tarantula was quicker than the shot. He injected his deadly poison. I have seen men die of such a bite. Why should I permit Aer to see this contorted sem- blance of a man which I have already become ? To my love, adres.” Not long after this terrible tragedy we broke camp and the party divided into detachments, some taking the railway to New Mexico, others starting for another camp in the wilderness, but all agreeing to rendezvous at a certain place on the Rio Grande, on the Mexican side. For myself, I set out with the doctor and a cowboy “outfit” for a journey along the border of the Great American Desert, which extends down into Mexico. In this vast wilderness yet other curious experiences were to befall us. (Zo be concluded.)

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~ Odds “AND” % A Javan Tournament—Tibetan Soldiers—The “ Blowing Stone,” etc., etc. fOURNAMENTS on medieval lines H are in great vogue in Java, when the natives turn out in their thousands, | this being one of their favourite diversions. Those who take part are generally the sons of the native nobility, and not infrequently young Mohammedan priests. The latter are distinguished by their turbans or “ fezzes,” while the noblemen wear close- fitting caps ornamented with gold. The idea of the tournaments is to show off the horseman- ship of the competitors, for the Javanese is a born horseman, who from his infancy is trained to ride wild barebacked ponies. There- fore, it is small wonder that, on the day of a “senénnan” or tournament, those who figure in it vie with one another in showing off their skill as equestrians. The tournament begins as soon as the signal is given by the umpires, when immediately two sets of riders gallop towards each other from opposite directions, holding their blunted lance in both hands, and dropping the reins altogether, thus giving full freedom to the little ponies to bolt off as fast as they like. When the riders get near enough to each other each man tries to unseat his opponent with his lance. This does not succeed very often, however, for all the young “ knights” know how to keep their seats firmly. If a rider is perchance unseated the uproar amongst the natives knows no bounds, for there is much betting in Java on any kind of sport. The winners are eventually rewarded with prizes. Our photo, shows a parade of competitors who took part in a_ recent “senénnan ” at Sourabaya. TOURNAMENTS QUITE ON MEDIEVAL LINES ARE A FAVOURITE AMUSEMEMT IN JAVA—THE ABOVE SHOWS A PARADE OF THE From a Photo, by) “KNIGHTS” PRIOR TO THK CUMBATS; (Rurkdjian, Java.

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ODDS AND ENDS. 205 The visitor to the quiet little town of Mon- terey, California, will notice in front of the main door of the old Spanish church of San Carlos Borromeo a con- siderable space which is paved with curious round discs. One would be likely to make many guesses as to what this curious paving material could be before one hit upon the correct answer, for the discs are whales’ vertebra! Half a century ago Monterey was the head-quarters of a considerable whaling industry. The connecting links explaining the who, why, and when of the laying of the queer pavement are not known ; in Californian history fifty years takes one back into antiquity. We may guess, perhaps, that it re presents the fulfilment of some devout whaler’s vow, that if San Carlos would prosper his voyage he would commemorate the saint’s good- ness in this noticeable way. A PAVEMENT MADE OF DISCS CUT FROM WHALES’ BACKNONES From a Photo. by C. C. Pierce & Co., Los Angeles, Cal. Till the memorable expedition of last year to Tibet it is pro- bable that less was known of its inhabitants than of almost any other race on the globe. How completely they have main- tained their iso- lation and ex- clusiveness whilst __civiliza- tion and _pro- gress knocked ever louder and louder at their doors can be well judged from this snap-shot showing the ancient old-world arms of two of their warriors. It seems incredible that at the present day there could still be soldiers armed with guns of an even older type than the matchlock of our great-grandfathers. Yet, as will be seen here, weapons which had to be fired by blowing the smouldering wick of an extinguished candle on to powder in a pan were in actual use against us in the recent engage- ments. The man standing up, it will be noted, has a supply of spare candles hanging from his tunic, TIBETAN SOLDIERS—THEY CARRY PRONGS TO SUPPORT THEIR MUSKETS AND CANDLES TO IGNITE THE POWDER-CHARGE ' From a Photo. by N. P. Edwards, Li:tlehampton,

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206 nal US KESULT OP A FLOOD—THE KIVEK UN THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. DANGLIN but perhaps the most noteworthy feature in the picture is the double-pronged supports which are used to keep these ancient muskets steady during the lengthy process of firing, and which were referred to in Miss ‘Taylor's articles, “The Only English- woman in Tibet.” Concerning the photograph above a correspondent writes : “Do not jump to the conclusion that this is an enormous switch- back, or represents the way we run railways in Jamaica. It is a view of the damage done by the Rio Cobre River. The engineers, finding themselves confronted with the problem of running a railway along the side of an almost perpendicular hill, solved it by building a huge concrete wall up from the river-bed and laying the rails on this. Owing, however, to the terrific current of the flooded river and—it was supposed—a defective foundation, THE FAMOL From a Photo, the whole wall collapsed, leaving the rails hang- ing in mid-air, as shown in the photo. A curious point is that the rails did not snap, NKMBNT, LEAVING THE RAILWAY LINES Photo. though the strain on them must have been tremendous — a splendid testimonial to the strength of the steel of which they were made.” Readers of “Tom Brown's School Days” may BLOWING STONE" IN THE VALE OF WHITE HORSE, LERKSHIRE~-KING ALFRED IS SAID TO HAVE USED IT FOR SUM- MONING HIS 7} b OPS. ty A. E. Johnson, of the stone, forms the mouthpiece. recollect that, in his introductory chapters, the author dwells long and lovingly upon the scenery and antiquities of his native county, Berkshire, and more especially of that part known as the Vale of White Horse. After describing the celebra- ted effigy of the Saxon white horse and other objects of interest, he makes allusion to the “ Blowing Stone,” at the foot of Blowing Stone Hill. This Blow- ing Stone still lies (as it has done these past two centuries) at the foot of the hill. It con- sists of a single brown Sarsen stone, three feet high, three feet six inches long, and two feet thick, perforated with numerous holes. One of these, situated on the topmost surface If a blast be blown bugle-wise down this passage, the result is a deep resonant note _(B)flat)jissuing apparently

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ODDS AND ENDS. 207 from the interior of the stone, and striking upon the ear with startling effect. Though low in pitch, the note is of astonishingly penetrating quality, and is audible in still weather (so the Berkshire rustics say) at Faringdon Clump, six miles away. The Blowing Stone has lain now for many years at the foot of Blowing Stone Hill, though its original site was on the crest of the downs, above White Horse Hill. Many theories have been advanced in connection with it, but the most popular supposes it to have been used by King Alfred for the purpose of summon- ing his troops. White Horse Hill, it might be mentioned, is the traditional scene of the Battle of Ashdown, in which Alfred is sup posed to have defeated the Danes. ‘lhe White Horse, indeed, is generally considered to have been carved in the chalk soil to commemorate the victory. Certainly a blast upon the Blowing Stone, when perched on the summit of the downs, must have been audible for many miles. The remarkable photograph adjoining was taken by Mr. J. Kavanaugh, postmaster of Troy, Arizona, U.S.A. The picture depicts two fine specimens of the giant cactus, called by the natives “Sahuaro.” The specimen to the left shows the cactus as it grows in its natural state on the waterless * “ plains and table-lands of the arid south- 4 STRANGE FRRAK OF NATURE—TO THE LEFT IS SEEN AN ORDINARY aaa CACTUS, AND TO THE RIGHT A BEAUTIFUL VARIETY CAUSED RY THE . western States. On the right is an abnormal From a) ACTION OF A PARASITE. (Photo. growth of the same species bearing a striking ° resemblance to an ornamental cross. This pecu- Islands, but very rare in the United States. The liarity in structure is probably caused by a two cacti were photographed some six miles parasite which is common in the South Pacific south of Troy, Pinal County, Arizona. As an illustration of how little two men really can get through when they try, the Persian method of till- ing the ground is hard to beat. ‘The average jobbing gardener in this country is not usually considered a model of quickness, but even he has not hit on the idea that two of his kind are necessary to work one spade, as is the custom in Persia. It is fair to say, how- ever, that the instru- ment, which one man holds and the other draws, as shown in our . . photograph, is a good , WHILE THE SEgORD A ards; ittlehampten. deal heavier than our TAKING IT KASY" IN PERSIA—ONE MAN STRIKES THE SPADE INTO THE ( From a Photo, by) HAULS IT OUT. (W. P.

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208 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ome = SSS — ——7—~--———=—"-=--=4__mencement of a mission , Station, and is built of § | | brushwood, the entrance | being effected by climb- ing the rude ladder seen on the left. Two bells are suspended from a cross - beam, and a rude cross of pine has been erected upon a_ small levelled surface, which is utilized for open-air ser- vices should the con- gregation be too numerous to be accommodated within the narrow limits of the brush © shelter. The great majority of worshippers in this strange church are con- verted Indians. As these mission stations become of greater importance more accommodation is THe MOST PIMUCIVE CHURCH IN THE WORLD. i ; From a Photo. by C. C. Pierce & Co., Los Angeles, Cal. provided, and many of , the long-established ones spade, and is, in fact, in some ways suggestive are elaborate stone edifices; but in nearly of a prehistoric plough. every instance they have sprung from primitive The illustration above depicts what is surely structures such as the one shown, which are the most primitive church in the world, situated erected wherever a new site for a mission station in Southern California. ‘This is the first. com- is chosen. guts \ Pm ae a ; ON THE SIAN STURGEON eas I $ pp ace . Sp Ld - An AFRICAN s MS Ts The Las “BUFFALO HuNT ee AB SLAY = MARK | Across Mexico on HORSEBACK ee ae 2 My ‘Two Days’ i HoLipAyY THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “one WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE—LOCALITY AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER. = (>)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVIL JULY, AN 1906, No. 99. INTERRUPTED TOUR. Totp By Joun Hawkins anp Set Down sy WALTER G. PATTERSON. A strange story of mixed identities. The “interruption” was of a most startling nature—nothing less than Mr. Hawkins’s arrest under the belief that he was an escaped lunatic! In spite of his protests he was removed to an asylum and went through some terrifying experiences ere he was able to resume his journey. § T was in June, 1886, that I tramped @ toward noon one day down the Short Line Railroad track through asmall but bustling Idaho city and came out in the suburbs in sight of a diminutive lake. I was on a walking tour, by my doctor’s advice, and was an entire stranger to the locality. My lack of knowledge of the district, as the sequel will show, was to get me into the biggest scrape of my life. Fifty yards or thereabouts beyond the lake I came upon a small, dingy, one-roomed hut, or shack. Leaning against the door-post, lazily chewing a straw, I espied a tall, lanky native. Not to enlarge unduly upon what followed, this individual deduced very logically, from the fact that I carried a jointed rod among my other impedimenta, that I had, upon occasion, both leisure and inclination to fish. He therefore informed me that by the merest coincidence he happened to be the owner of a staunch little skiff lying in a hidden bay of the lake, and which he was willing to allow me to hire. He added the information that that particular body of water was “ fair chokin’ with graylin’ an’ sech.” Being an enthusiastic fisherman, the result of the tempt- ing offer was, of course, that I promptly closed with him. I paid a stiff price for the “staunch little skiff” in advance, only to find it a clumsy, leaky, flat-bottomed old scow—as big a delusion in its way as was the native’s claim about the fish in the little pond. “Fishing” there was plenty of—but, so far as I could discover, not a solitary fish. The net outcome of my day’s Vol. xvii, —27. “sport” was that a big mud-turtle finally walked off with my best hook and line. I am con- strained to doubt, upon sober after - reflection, there ever having been a single finny denizen of that particular lake since the world began. Whilst I was wearily and disgustedly beaching the scow towards six o'clock I caught sight suddenly of smoke and flames bursting from the roof of a long, rambling building, the roof of which alone I could just distinguish over the top of some trees across a broad field of slough- grass and brush, about the fourth of a mile distant. Promptly forgetting how tired I was, I started off at a run along a narrow cow- trail that had been worn through the brush, with my eyes upon the burning roof. My speed was impeded somewhat by a pair of clumsy rubber boots which the native had lent me, but after five or six minutes’ running I brought up against a tight hedge of willow trees. This I found, upon springing to the top of a stump in an open space near by, seemed to extend entirely around the enclosure holding the burning structure, forming a natural barri- cade ; and I found further, to my keen chagrin, that I was barely able to see the roof and a few inches of the brick wall of the building from the vantage of the stump—the building itself standing near the centre of the great enclosure, from which I was still distant many yards. I therefore began looking about me excitedly for some chance break in the hedge through which I might creep. Almost immediately I spied such an opening

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212 a few yards away, and hurriedly sprang from my stump pedestal and started toward it. At that identical instant, however, to my no slight surprise and alarm, a man—a slim-built, grey- haired, and. rather short-statured individual, apparently about sixty years of age—glided noiselessly from the copse of trees and stationed himself directly in my path. Although much startled by his unexpected appearance, I noticed that he was dressed in blue clothes with brass buttons, and that he had two small red stars on the front of his cap. I noticed also that the stranger possessed a pair of remarkably bright eyes. ee By George, young man!” exclaimed this new arrival, after a brief scrutiny of my features, and speaking in a low and wonderfully musical voice. ‘Do you know that for just a minute I thought you were Shannon? Good job you ain’t, though. 1 reckon——” “Well, and what then?” I interrupted, some- what impatiently, partially recovering from my surprise, and again eager to see the fire. “You'd best have a care, boy,” he remarked, in the same unruffled tone. “There was a full hundred of ’em let loose and they’ve mostly broke out of the yard since. Pro- bably half that number are lurk- ing around some- where in these trees waiting to pounce out “A hundred what — half that many what?” I blurted out in sudden dismay. “What is that building yonder ?” I added, a trifle tremulously. “Why, don’t you know? Then you're surely a stranger in these parts,” the party in blue answered affably, and still A ae without a trace of eS 2 35 s % excitement in his low voice. “ That's the Idaho State Lunatic Asylum — or a part of it, rather—that’s on ae res boa cia Pimlent: ““ WE CROUCHED FORWARD AS THOUGH ABOUT TO SPRING UPON ME.” THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fire. It’s mighty fortunate I stopped you, cae “A madhouse!” I gasped weakly, going suddenly limp. Wild animals, according to my way of thinking, were pleasant playfellows com- pared with a regiment of lunatics prowling around in the shadows waiting to jump out on unsuspecting folks and grab them by the throats. “Qh, it’s only a portion of the asylum, the cell-house, where all the real dad ones are kept,” explained this strange companion of mine, as if that fact ought to allay any alarm I might feel, and exactly as though burning madhouses with their inmates running at large unchecked were very ordinary affairs. I found time to wonder vaguely at the man’s perfect calmness, until I recalled suddenly that as a veteran guard he was pro- bably hardened to such occurrences. But there were other considerations about his nonchalance that I couldn’t understand so readily and which exasperated me quite as much as they puzzled me. “The very bad ones,” I ejaculated, weakly. “Good gracious! Isn’t there any danger ? Aren’t you guards making any effort to head the luna- tics off? And —” as another strange fact occur- red to me_ sud- denly—“how comes it there’s no shouting or dis- turbance?” Sud- denly a remark- able change came over my com- panion’s face. An angry scowl abruptly took the place of his former good-natured ex- pression, and he crouched forward as though about to spring upon me. “Now, never you mind about that part of the business, young fellow,” he snarled, angrily, at the same tine glaring in a_ threatening manner into my scared eyes. “In the first place, I’m r 4

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AN INTERRUPTED TOUR. 213 not one of the common guards—I’m the head keeper, and was that long before you were born. “You see, it was this way, my lad,” he con- tinued, half argumentatively. ‘It, of course, wasn’t any fault of us keepers and guards that the crazy people found a way to leave the yard while we were busy getting the hose out and all that, and instead of our taking things coolly as you suggest, why, the first thing we did after we’d found they were escaping was to drop I had barely time to note these facts, but none whatever in which to try to attach a mean- ing to them, when I suddenly felt my legs grabbed, well down near the ankles, by some person or persons behind me. Then I was tripped up, my legs yanked abruptly from under me, and I pitched face foremost on to the hard ground. In spite of the shock, I did not com- pletely lose consciousness, for I knew, almost instantly afterwards, that I was being hauled “L PITCHED PACE FOREMOST ON TO THE HARD GROUND. everything and get after ‘em. Guards are scouring every foot of undergrowth this very minute trying to locate the poor beggars, and as for myself, why, I’m here to see no more of ’em gets away. What you say about there being no big hullabaloo going on is easily explainable. Crazy folks are too cute when they’re aiming to escape to raise any racket, and—and——” To my great amazement I here noticed my loquacious companion suddenly throw himself forward in a peculiar bending attitude, as if desirous for some reason of rendering himself less conspicuous. Directly afterwards I saw him turn quickly and, still in the peculiar crouching position, disappear at a sort of swift trot among the now fast darkening copse of trees. roughly back to my feet, and that, with no opportunity even to see the faces of my captors, so swiftly did they work, a heavy blanket or a sack was being drawn down forcibly over my head. “The lunatics have got me/” I thought, hazily, though I was too dazed by the suddenness of it all to do any particularly bright thinking. “Tt must be a pair of the very worst ones,” I decided further, “or else why did that old asylum-keeper bolt as soon as he sighted them ?” One of my captors—I knew there were two by the low, chuckling kind of conversation they were carrying on—now seized my arm, while the second one “persuaded” me to step lively by prodding me viciously in the back with what appeared to be a sharpened fence picket or long pole.

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214 ’ THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Now, I hadn’t the remotest doubt that my inquisitiveness about the fire had ended in landing me in the hands of a couple of danger- ous lunatics. Neither, as I have intimated, did I doubt for a minute they were two of the very worst cases in the asylum, since an experienced and doubtless anordinarily brave head-keeper had seemed to consider it the better part of valour not to permit himself to fall into their clutches. The very desperateness of the fix I was in served speedily to clarify my thinking faculties, and I soon began casting about me for some plan of defence or, if possible, escape. Conse- quently, having revolved various more or less futile schemes in my mind in the few moments that had elapsed since my capture, I presently nerved myself up to the desperate plan of suddenly wresting myself free from the lunatics’ hands, deftly pulling the sack off my head, and then putting up the best fight I was able for my life and liberty. You can therefore imagine what my amaze- I noticed, without at the moment fully appre- ciating the fact, that 1 was standing inside the asylum enclosure ; that the fire I had thought a dangerous conflagration had, instead, been a small affair only, apparently confined to one end of the roof, and now practically extinguished. Also it was quite evident that all the patients who had not managed to effect their escape had been returned to their cells. There were none in sight, and I realized dimly that the two guards and myself were the sole occupants of the yard. As all these things dawned upon me I began to grow wrathful at the rough handling I had received at the hands of these two blundering guards. I was about to burst forth in tones of righteous indignation and give them a good talking to, when one of the big fellows sprang suddenly behind me and seized my shoulders, while the other began to fasten a stout pair of very peculiar muff-shaped leather arm-cuffs about my forearms and wrists.* They wholly ignored From aj ment was, just as I had stiffened myself abruptly fora sudden jump to one side out of the fellows’ grasp, to have them stop short, snatch the sack by a quick motion off my head and shoulders, and then to make the unexpected and very bewildering discovery that the supposed crazy men were a pair of strapping, uniformed, and grinning asylum-guards ! For a moment I could do nothing but stare at them and blink like a person suddenly aroused from sleep. THE IDAHO STATE LUNATIC ASYLUM. - Photo. my protests ; I might as well have been a wooden man for all the attention they paid to my angry words. “Mighty lucky pair of brand-new guards, you and me are, Tom,” gleefully chuckled the man in front of me, as he skilfully snapped the leather cuffs locked about my wrists. ‘“ We were pow'rful fortunate to go and catch this fellow Shannon so dead easy.” * These “mufflers,” as I learnt afterwards, are dsed to ‘take the fight" out of refractory, patients, and-ate exceedingly efficacious,

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AN INTERRUPTED 1 gasped —a sudden light began to break upon my mind. It was the patient Shannon these new guards had taken me to be, as the head keeper fellow had at first ! “Yes, you're right,” replied his partner, prodding me viciously just as I started to attempt to explain the blunder. “But the old man’ll likely fire both of us, as it is,” continued Guard Number Two, with another prod in my back, merely by way “of emphasis. ‘“Any- way, the very worst old rascal in the whole bunch has cut his lucky.” I could no longer restrain myself. I didn’t fully under- stand the talk, but enough of it to know where I figured in the affair. “Now, see here, you fellows,” I broke out, hotly. ‘What do you mean by this dastardly outrage ? Can’t you see you’ve made a_ blunder? ‘Can’t you see I’m a complete stranger to both of you?” “ Oh, stow all that, Shannon!” the fellow facing me retorted, with a sarcastic grimace. “I reckon there ain’t going to be no great difficulty in identifyin’ you, if it comes to ¢hat. You see,” he added, with a-wink at his com- panion, who broke into a loud guffaw of appreciation ; “ you see, Shannon, old boy, you didn’t stay away from us long enough for us tender-hearted old friends of yours to go and forget you.” “But, good heavens, men!” I burst out, desperately, foreseeing dire consequences for myself if something were not speedily done to convince the couple of my identity, “I am not Shannon! You have made a terrible blunder ! My name is Hawkins, and I’ve got papers over yonder at a fisherman’s hut, along with my other traps, to prove it and all about me! Iam not a crazy man—no more crazy than you are!” “Why, to be certain, you ain’t no crazy ““) BROKE OUT HOTLY, ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THIS DASTARDLY OUTRAGE ?"" tor. TOUR. 215 man!” tauntingly mocked the giant guard, at the same instant signalling his companion to prepare to “run” me toward the cell building, away across the other side of the yard. “To be certain sure, you ain’t no crazy man,” he went on, jeeringly. ‘You're in the institu- tion for your health—cold feet, isn’t it? An’ your name it is ’Awkins!” he went on. Then he took a firm grip on my left arm, while his delighted partner started viciously to accelerate my move- ments by repeatedly prodding me again in the small of my back. I realized, with a sinking heart, that nothing I could say was going to extricate me from being im- mured in the cells, from which Heaven alone knew if I would ever escape ! I was frantic with fright — my _ ideas, such as they were, seemed to be dancing a whirligig in my brain. For the life of me I couldn't think of a word to say. As we reached a corner of the long brick structure my captors stopped a moment to begin fumbling for their keys. “We're going to invite you inside our private hotel, an’ give you a hot foot-bath for what ails you,” growled my tormen- “ An’, maybe, Shannon ”—here he brought an ugly countenance down close to my own alarmed face and set his jaws angrily— “maybe, if you’re so plaguy nasty as you were yesterday, we'll give you a few other little atten- tions.” “Tm perfectly helpless—I’m in your power,” I somehow managed to articulate weakly, my brain still in a whirl. ‘But I promise you fellows you’re going to be sorry for this idiotic mistake.” Suddenly at this crisis a very simple method of proving who I was. flashed. through my mind, one that, should haye(occurred instantly

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216 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to me—but for my bewilderment—at the very outset. “Why, look here,” I exclaimed abruptly— meanwhile attempting to hold back when the two men started off again. ‘The head keeper knows who I am—the man in the uniform like you two wear, but with the pair of small red stars on the front of his cap. I was talking to him back there in the brush when you fellows nabbed me. Ae thought 1 was Shannon for a moment, but——” While I was talking we had reached the rear entrance to the building—and here another surprise awaited me. One of the guards turned upon me excitedly, with one foot on the lower step of the entry stairs, and to my very decided alarm once more brought that bulldog face of his down close to my own surprised features. A large covered lamp, in a metal and glass frame, hung suspended over the door, and a bright shaft of light from it fell squarely upon me. “Now, see here, you, Shannon,” he began, in a low, threatening voice, the last vestige of his former bantering tone entirely gone, “I don’t want no more of this fool talk from you about your bein’ ’Awkins and such stuff as that, but I want straight talk from you. Was ‘Old Jap’ anywhere near by when Tom an’ me ketched you by the legs? Was you honestly talkin’ to him, an’ was——” “Who the mischief is ‘Old Jap’?” I blurted out, interrupting him, naturally all at sea again, yet none the less convinced by the man’s evident excitement that he was no_ longer chaffing me. “I saw nothing of any Jap, either young or old, nor anyone else, save the head keeper I’ve just described to you. Hurry up and get word to him; he knows I’m not Shannon.” “Oh! what’s the use o’ wasting time on the obstinate young beggar?” disgustedly burst from the lips of the second guard. “You might know, Hennessy,” he drawled, con- temptuously, to his angered fellow-guard, “that this fellow ain't goin’ to give away nothin’ about his mate.” “T tell you I am zof Shannon!” I cried, despairingly. ‘I saw no Jap, nor anyone but the head keeper, who was watching that no more of the crowd of lunatics got out of the yard, and--—” “Shut up, Shannon; you make us tired Guard Number One interposed, sententiously. “We'll fix you up properly directly we’ve run down your side-partner from that little hint you’ve let drop. “Of course,” he sneered, with a sudden relapse to his old bantering style of talk, ‘you knows nothin’ ’bout ‘Old Jap’ bein’ a white man, and about yourself and the old villain bein’ the only ” two who were cute enough to give us poor, trustin’ brand-new guards the slip when the fire occurred! And you don’t know anything about ‘Old Jap’ managin’ somehow to collar the super’s extra togs, do you?” The balance of these remarks were lost to me, for I was pushed roughly through an opened door into a narrow corridor, hustled a few steps across it, and forced into a small unlighted cell. Then, almost instantaneously, my captors vanished. I still had on the “mufflers,” and I groped aimlessly and awkwardly about me—my mind now in a whirl—beside which my _ earlier bewilderment was lucidity itself. Presently I bumped against an iron cot, or bedstead, in a corner of the cell, and, seating myself very dejectedly thereupon, I dropped my head and tried to think and take stock of my dreadful position. I was able to recognise clearly only two facts. One was that my foolish inquisitiveness about a fire had landed me in a cell at an insane asylum, credited, through the stupidity of others, with being an escaped lunatic. The second fact— and even yet I only partially understood it from the guard’s fragmentary remarks—was that the little old fellow with the red stars and brass buttons must have been, not the head keeper, but “Old Jap” himself, a cunning and probably very dangerous lunatic. “So that was ‘Old Jap,’” I found myself muttering. “I wonder what he was hanging around so close to the asylum for? He must have got separated somehow from this other ° fellow—the patient the guards take me for, and whom I must resemble a little. And he was cute enough to steal a superintendent’s outfit ! And he knew, crazy as he was, that I was not Shannon.” I seized upon this thought as a drowning man clutches at a straw: ‘“‘ He knew as soon as he set eyes on me that I wasn’t Shannon—and so will any of the responsible employés. What am I getting hysterical about? I shall be all right soon !” I was cheerful once more in a minute. At the worst, 1 told myself, I was in for nothing worse than a night’s free lodging. The environ- ments were perhaps not such as I should have selected, but it would be a new experience— something to tell my friends about. Little did I dream at that moment that my night in the Idaho Madhouse was to be but a mere incident of a strange series of adventures, or under what circumstances I was next to encounter “Old Jap,” the cunning lunatic who had first mentioned the wretched name of “Shannon” to me,

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AN INTERRUPTED TOUR. 217 As I sat there on the bed I determined to possess my soul in patience as long as need be, but at the first opportunity to secure an audience with the superintendent, or call the attention of some old guard who might pass my cell. The chances were, I was confident, I would get such an opportunity some time during the night. Surely some attention would be paid the inmates of the cells before daylight. But if no one showed up till breakfast-time it wouldn’t make any great difference; I was sure to get my chance then. Now, I’ll admit I lost a lot of my optimism when, a little while after I had grown philosophical, a guard did pass, and I rushed to the barred door of my cell and began to shake it, at the same time shouting out to him that a mistake had been made in locking me up—a mistake which I could explain in a moment. The fellow walked right on past me, whistling “Annie Rooney” at the top of his lungs; then he suddenly turned round and came back lugging a long length of hose, which had been unwound in connection with the day’s fire, and deli- berately turned a big stream of water on me, sending me spin- ning and half drown- ing me! Needless to say, this discouraged any further effort on my part to attempt to secure my liberty hat night. After the big guard, with his cheer- fully original scheme for putting a “damper” upon a supposed obstreperous patient, had backed slowly away, laughing boisterously at the efficaciousness of his little remedy, I formed a resolution to possess my soul in patience and await daylight without again opening my mouth. I will not dwell upon the balance of the night’s events; how the awful noises made by the patients got on my nerves and all but made me forget my resolution to remain quiet—all but Vol. xvii,—28, “(HE DELIBERATBLY TURNED A BIG STREAM OF WATER ON ME, SENDING ME SPINNING,” turned me into a wild-eyed madman myself. What with the fearsome din of shrieks and curses, fervid exhortations, and insane laughter, I shall never forget it as long as I live. It was at the breakfast hour, as I had hoped, that my rehabilitation came. The superin- tendent, Dr. A——, knew, the moment I stepped out of the long file of patients moving past him slowly to the dining-hall, that I was no rightful inmate of the place. He listened with a perplexed frown, which gave way quickly to one of angry amazement, while I poured what lam afraid was a somewhat incoherent tale of my recent experiences into his ear. He lost no time in having the “mufflers” taken off my wrists. The doctor explained that, while I did to a certain degree re- semble the fellow Shannon, anyone but a “born fool,” as he emphatically ex- pressed it, would have known I was not that patient, from the fact that the latter had had one of his ears almost sliced off in a recent fracas, to say nothing of a broad, livid scar Shannon wore across one side of his jaw! Dr. A—— was pro- fuse in his apologies for the outrage I had suffered at the hands of his inexperienced employés; and he promised as a sup- posed sop to my in- jured feelings. that the pair of! them should be unceremo- niously ‘“ bounced” directly they returned to the asylum. It was with a brief biography of “Old Jap” ringing in my ears, imparted to me by the apologetic superintendent while I was breakfasting with him at his private table, that lat length, toward nine o’clock that morning, started cheerily on my way back to the lanky boat-owner’s hut, purposing to resume at once my interrupted pedestrian tour, after I had secured my traps and exchanged the awkward gum-boots I was still wearing for my own walking shoes.

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218 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “Old Jap” it seemed, from the doctor’s story, was in reality a Scotsman named Macdougall. He had been a great traveller in his younger days, and was well educated, with a strong scientific bent. He had had many ups and downs. Once, some years earlier, he had returned to his home in Boise City, Idaho, after a long stay in Japan, and had opened a school there for the teaching of the then little-known jiu-jitsu, in which science he himself had become an expert. It was from this fact that he had been given the sobriquet of “Old Jap.” However, after he had been running the school a short time, he began all at once to get unnecessarily rough in the handling of his young students, and had finally killed one of them by strangulation. Following this startling tragedy, the demonstrator of theoretical jiu-jitsu had “run amuck” for several days in the mountains and foot-hills surrounding Boise. Here he had waylaid and garrotted three men in a very peculiar manner— evidently having crept up behind his victims and lassoed them with some wiry vine, which he had held taut till life was extinct. About ten days after “Old Jap” had started out on this career of irresponsible frenzy he was run down and lassoed himself by a party of cow- boys, and promptly incarcerated in the State (or Territorial, as it then was) Asylum for the Mentally Unbalanced. I was thanking my lucky stars, as I stepped briskly along down the old cow trail once more, that I had been inadvertently rescued from “Old Jap’s” murderous hands too abruptly for him to have tried any of his practical demon- strations upon me. I was going over his bio- graphy in my mind, interested and semi-fasci- nated by the very horror of it all. I wasn’t reflectiug much on the possibility of meeting either “Old Jap” or his partner Shannon, the superintendent having told me that ere daylight came both the dangerous couple would be miles away, unless previously recaptured. I had just reached a point in my mental re- capitulation of the night’s happenings and those of the afternoon preceding where 1 was wonder- ing in a dreamy sort of fashion if by any chance the two guards who arrested me had yet encountered the genuine Shannon and thereby discovered their stupid blunder, when of a sudden my eyes fell upon an object interposed squarely in my path that caused me to halt abruptly and spring back, with my eyes almost starting from their sockets in horror. What I saw was a pair of blue-clad human legs sticking out from the brush a few steps ahead, drawn up rigidly at the knees in a manner which told me at once that their owner was lying dead upon his back, screened from my sight by a clump of brush such as walled in both sides of the trail. Hoping against hope that I might still be in time to resuscitate the unfortunate man, I pulled myself together and began to break my way through the brush, in order to investigate the mystery at closer quarters. It proved to be one of my late captors, the guard ‘T'om—he who had been so assiduous in prodding me the afternoon before. He was lying flat on his back, his head resting in a shallow depression in the soil, his uniform cap having fallen off and rolled a few feet away. The position of the body, after 1 had knelt down by it and pushed a screen of leaves away from the face, threw the bare neck into prominent view, and my blood froze in my veins when I saw, standing out clearly upon the flesh, a thin purple line extending entirely across the front of the throat! Of course, I had already vaguely connected “Old Jap” with the tragedy, but this ocular proof of his terrible handiwork, coming upon me so suddenly, turned me quite faint. Almost immediately an awful fear that the murderous and cunning lunatic might still be hanging around the spot assailed me. For all I knew he might at that very instant be stalking me in the heavy brush surrounding the place— watching an opportunity to swing a loop over my head and draw it taut, as he had with the unfortunate fellow lying dead at my feet! The thought unmanned me, and I started to move away from the spot, with no other thought in my mind than that of putting the greatest possible distance between myself and the dangerous locality. I had, however, proceeded scarcely twenty paces, stumbling along blindly through the dense brush, when all of a sudden some small, dark object like a whip-lash whizzed swiftly in front of my eyes. Then, before I could dodge it or put out a hand to defend myself, a vine or cord, or something of the kind, struck my face and began to loop itself rapidly over my shoulders and around my neck ! In an instant it grew tight, and as I fought for breath and a kind of wavy, red haze began to glow all about me, I realized dully that instead of fleeing away from the lunatic I had rushed straight to the spot where he had been lying in wait for me. Gradually, however, I commenced to lose interest in everything. As it seemed to me, the time was dragging itself along with a most monotonous slowness, though, as a fact, not a dozen seconds had elapsed after my lassoing. In a sort of dream I saw the form of “Old Jap” himself—my ‘Chead keeper” of the pre-

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AN INTERRUPTED TOUR. 219 vious afternoon—drop lightly down through the haze from the branches of a tree over my head, and land a few steps in front of me. All at once the fact forced itself into my mind that someone was fumbling with the cord that was Another cutting so cruelly into my neck. instant, and I re- alized weakly that the ligature had loosened suddenly. A sound more like the quack of a duck than any- thing else burst from my _ throat upon the pressure being so suddenly removed, and in my brain-be- fuddled condition this struck me merely as being in- expressibly funny. I had a_ foolish desire to laugh boisterously, — but instead I fell down limp and inert against the bole of a tree and com- menced gasping for air, which I swallowed in great, greedy gulps. By slow, easy degrees I became aware of “Old Jap’s” presence. He was standing a few steps in front of me, smil- first fragment I was able to understand. “It would have been a disastrous blow to scientific achievement if you had proved as weakling as all these other fellows invariably have, and allowed yourself to become asphyxiated in what was merely my preliminary effort to capture a proper subject. “Tt has been my contention for years,” went on the soft, insinuat- ing voice, “ that the modern methods for depriving the human subject of the vital spark by slow, awkward strangulation were atrocious because of the wholly un- necessary suffering they entail on the subjects them- selves —a_ bit of crass cruelty, by the way, that will be entirely obvi- ated by my method, which vou are to be pri- vileged to demon- strate 1” Then, and not till then, I under- stood what I had been reserved for by the cunning old scoundrel. I might have known it was for no ingly studying my NAN INSTANT IT GREW TIGHT.” humane purpose, pale features. even when I was Somehow he reminded me, with his head but half-conscious, knowing what I did of “Old cocked over on one side, and standing first on one leg and then the other, of a big, over- grown bird of prey, engaged in, contemplating its latest victim. It was several minutes before I had sufficiently recovered myself to become aware that my crazy companion had been talking away at a great rate all this time—and was evidently addressing his conversation to my bewildered self. The words reached my ears faintly, as though they came from a very great distance, and I made a heroic effort to grasp the drift of them. : “.. 4. ought to be the proudest moment of your entire career, my young friend,” was the Jap’s” pet hobby. “Tm to be jiu-jitsued,” I “That’s the precise size of it!” Just at this critical juncture I saw my insane companion’s eyes narrow down suddenly to two thin little slits, and—as if an unarmed maniac were not bad enough—saw him pluck from his belt a revolver, a big, dangerous-looking weapon which he had probably annexed from the dead guard. Then he started to come closer to me —the bony, muscular fingers of his free hand clutching the air convulsively, with a horrible suggestiveness of what the old rascal had in his mind. Precisely what-happened next I shall never told myself.

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220 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “THEN HE STARTED TO COME CLOSER TO ME— CLUTCHING THE be sure about. I do remember, however, that a sudden alarming change came over “Old Jap’s” features as he sprang toward me. He began shouting in a loud, excited voice some- thing about an “obstinate young hound who had no thought but for himself—none whatever of the incalculable benefit he had it in his power to be to posterity.” I was dimly conscious that the madman hastily crammed the pistol back into his belt as he came on at me; I remember preparing to grapple with him. Next I felt iron fingers jabbing into my throat and heard a sudden roaring in my ears ; then there came a deafening explosion, a blinding flash right in my very eyes, and every- thing went black. When I recovered consciousness two days had elapsed, and I was lying on a small cot-bed, back in the Insane Asylum once more. I had been carried there by the posse of guards who— as has probably been surmised—had rescued me from my crazy captor’s hands just in the nick of time. This posse was headed by the second of the two guards I had first met—he who was AK FINGERS OF HIS FRER HAND named Hennessy—and who, as I learned in the excited tale that was unwound to me upon my return to consciousness, instead of falling a victim to “Old Jap” himself, as I had feared, had managed to escape and fetch his comrades, after seeing his unfortunate companion lassoed. The most unsat.sfactory part of the guard’s tale, from my point of view, was the fact that “Old Jap” had after all managed to elude the posse and get clear away from them. The last I heard in regard to the affair, which was several weeks later, was to the effect that both “Old Jap” and Shannon were then still at large in the mountains. Whether either of the pair was ever recaptured I do not know. After another couple of days’ rest I proceeded on my interrupted walking tour. So grateful was I at being alive that I forgave the lank native his deception concerning the fishing in the lake. I may add, in conclusion, that while I still go out of my way sometimes to see a fire, my inquisitiveness has never again landed me headlong in such a terrifying experience—and 1 hope it never will do!

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In the Service of the Sultan. By H. L. Apam. Some exciting episodes from the experiences of an interesting personage — a Liverpool solicitor who, although of British nationality, is yet a high official in the service of the Sultan of Turkey, entrusted by him with many important missions in various parts of the world. HORT of stature, spare, agile of body (GN ! and mind, a voluble and entertain- e (¥) ing conversationalist both in English WAS) and Arabic, with an intimate know- —_— ledge of life in the East—such is His Excellency Sheikh Abdullah Quilliam Bey Effendi, a trusted official and emissary of H.M. the Sultan of Turkey. By profession a solicitor of Liverpool, with an extensive practice, Mr. Quilliam yet con- trives to devote considerable time and energy to racial dif- ferences and dissensions in the land of the Crescent. I recently had the pleasure of an inter- view with him in Liverpool, on behalf of THE WipE Wor.p MacazinE, when he kept me deeply interested and enter- tained with the recital of some of his many adven- tures whilst in the service of the Sultan. Mr. Quilliam has a very high opinion sof the Sultan, describ- ing him as an extremely nice man to deal with. Although over sixty years of age, the Sultan is still very active both in body and mind. He has a habit of constantly looking askance at people out of the corner of his eyes, except in the case of a man he is called upon to trust, when he directs at him a keen and searching glance—the look of a man who for years has had to read the very minds of those about him. That his existence is not altogether a bed of roses, and that he is not by any means lacking in personal courage, the following little incident, related by Mr. Quilliam, will show. One day, while seated in the Throne Room, His Majesty perceived out of the corner of his eye that a man was levelling a revolver at him. Ere he could speak, how- ever, the weapon was lowered. Three times this performance was repeated, but the weapon was not fired. The Sultan never even turned his head, but under his breath remarked to an MR. QUILLIAM, AN EMINENT LIVERPOOI. SOLICITOR, WHO IS ALSO A TRUSTED OFFICIAL AND EMISSAKY OF H.M. THE SULTAN OF TURKEY. From a Photo. officer near at hand, “A man is levelling a revolver at me yonder; arrest him!” Imme- diately the man was seized and the pistol taken from him. Then the would-be assassin was brought before His Majesty. It transpired that he was an official who had been disappointed in regard to promotion. “Why did you not shoot when you had the revolver pointed at me?” asked the Sultan. “T tried three times,” an- swered the prisoner. “ But Allah wouldn’t let me!” The Sultan did not punish him, but gave him the promo- tion he had sought, and he became as strong an adherent of His Majesty as he had formerly been an antagonist. Such is diplomacy in the East. I will now proceed to relate a couple of Mr. Quilliam’s adventures much as he told them to me. The date was the 2oth of February, 1905. According to Turkish time the hour was seven o'clock in the morning —equivalent to one hour after midnight. The place was the little town of Resina, in Rou- melia. The ground was snow- laden, but the snow in the streets had been by the constant passing and re- passing of bullock wagons churned into mud and slush, which lay a foot deep. The last expiring vibrations of the chimes had scarcely died out when I, in company with a detachment of thirty mounted Turkish soldiers, took to the unpleasant road, leaving Resina behind. The soldiers were in command of Captain Zia Bey and two non- commissioned officers, and we were also accom- panied by four gendarmes and a doctor. When we moved out of the Resina quarters nobody but Captain Zia Bey and myself knew what was to be our destination or our mission. As a matter of fact, we had a very serious business in hand, nothing less than the projected capture of

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222 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. some brief instruc- tions to the non-com- missioned officers, divided his troop into two com- panies, directing the smaller one, which was placed under the leader- ship of one of the cor- porals, to proceed along the track which followed the bed of the river; while the other, the larger one, under the direction of the commander, with whom I remained, followed the well-beaten | mule track, which trended due north. Our destination was the Bulgar village of Kriveni. It was about an hour before sunrise that we ar- rived at the entrance of the village. ‘The captain called a halt, and the sol- diers dismounted quietly and threw rugs over the backs of their horses. The night was intensely cold and snow lay thick all round. For the space of about ten minutes we remained still, amidst a silence profound as : that of the grave. Then inte suddenly there arose a i BS peculiar hoarse sound, like the cawing of ny See ii: Ye a crow aroused from his nocturnal slum- We aioe bers. It proceeded from the bed of the ‘que captain cauteoawatr, Tiver, and was responded to by another k a a ey waTES —* caw-caw” froma human crow. It was, a band of brigands, including a notorious chief, who had been wanted for years, and concerning whose present whereabouts we had received intelligence. For some years, I should explain here, I have been engaged periodically in hunt- ing down these desperadoes and the insurgent Bulgar bands who cause so much trouble. The little company ploughed its way in single file through the semi-liquid deposit, to the accompaniment of the melancholy splash, splash, of the horses’ hoofs. No other sound could be heard save an occasional growl from the soldiers. When we got out in the open country the roads improved, and we passed the little village of Jankover at a trot, three abreast. At the bridge spanning the River Cesta the com- mander called a halt, and, having given in fact, a signal from one company to the other. Soon after we joined hands again. Then proceeded a swift marshalling of forces. Every entrance to the village was guarded, soldiers being also stationed upon all the surrounding hills, so that nobody could possibly leave the place without being observed. Next we formed a little storming party, consisting of the captain, the corporals, four gendarmes, four soldiers, and myself, and rode into the village, taking up a position in a square in the very centre of it. A shrill blast was blown upon the bugle, and the villagers awoke to find the place in the posses- sion of the soldiers. Immediately a number of men came trooping from their houses, ready dressed, for the Bulgars regard it as a superfluous act to remove their clothes when retiring for the night. They seemed much - alarmed, (and jabout @ score of

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IN THE SERVICE OF THE SULTAN. 223 them, in groups of twos and threes, attempted to leave the village, but were sternly bidden by the guards to remain where they were, an admonition which in each instance was empha- sized with the muzzle of a loaded rifle. Soon the square was crowded with men, while women and children peered anxiously from doors and windows in the surrounding houses. Captain Bey then proceeded to call for the chief of the village—a kind of mayor, called the moukhtar— and other officials to be brought before him. ‘These were summoned and promptly attended, the moukhtar making a profound obeisance to the captain when the latter questioned him as to his identity. “I have received informa- tion, sir,” said Captain Bey, “that you are harbouring in this village the ‘notorious brigand chief, Gorrshay, and some members of his band, and that both arms and am- munition are secreted here. Is that correct ?” “Oh, no, sir!” emphati- cally declared the official. “The man you seek is cer- tainly not here.” He then turned to the other officials and asked them if what he had said was correct, and they replied with a chorus of “Yes, yes, yes!” Then, in order further to impress their veracity upon the captain, the schoolmaster stepped forward and exclaimed :— “The mouhktar speaks the truth, Captain Bey. I swear it!” This seemed to partially convince the officer, who paused reflectively for a few moments. Then he said, slowly: “I suppose I must be mistaken, and what you have said is true. But before I leave the village I shall require you to furnish me with a written declaration that neither Gorrshay nor his associates are within the precincts of this village, nor that there are either weapons or ammunition secreted anywhere here or hereabouts. Are you prepared to sign such a document ?” To this there was a chorus of “ We are !” the zealous schoolmaster further volunteering to write the declaration himself. Writing materials were at once brought, and the schoolmaster completed his task and read out what he had written. The captain, having perused the document, handed it to one of the corporals, TITLE 18 MR. QUILLIAM IN HIS TURKISH DRESS—HIS OFFICIAL HIS EXCELLENCY SHEIKH ABDULLAH QUILLIAM REY EFFENDI.” From a Photo. by W. H. Pugh, Liverpool. instructing him to read it aloud both in Turkish and Bulgar, so that all present might testify if it was true or not. When this was done, and the query put, the villagers all replied in chorus, “ It is true! It is true!” So far, everything seemed straightforward enough ; but, after a few moments” hesitation, Captain Zia Bey declared that he was not satis- fied with this written declaration, and that he intended to institute a thorough search of all the houses for arms, ammunition, or insurgents. “If your statement that there is no one con- cealed here be true,” he concluded, “so much the better for you ; if, on the other hand, it is false, then you must take the consequences.” He then ordered the gen- darmes to proceed with a house-to-house search. In pairs they searched seventy- nine houses, and found no- thing incriminating. The eightieth house was entered by two Mussulmans, named respectively Corporal Ismail and Private Zanil, one of them carrying a lighted lamp in hishand. Having searched one room without discover- ing anything, they turned their attention to a door which gave access toa cellar. Immediately the door was opened three shots rang out, the darkness of the cellar was pierced with three blind- ing flashes, and the two gendarmes fell dead upon the ground ! So much for the written declaration. Captain Bey acted with promptitude, had the house surrounded in such a manner that nobody could escape from it, and then called for the proprietor. After some hesitation a man was pushed for- ward by the crowd, and it was ascertained that his name was Nordau. The captain instructed him to call upon those inside, in Bulgar, to surrender, or the soldiers would fire upon them. This Nordau at first was disin- clined to do, but at length called out in a very faint voice. He was told to speak louder, and he did so, but no response came from the inside. Nordau was then told to shout, and he shouted, but still no reply came. The captain then instructed one of the corporals to call out, both in Turkish and Bulgar, which he did, and in response there camé the)sound of men singing,

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224 THE WIDE WORLD “THREE KULGARIANS DASHED OUT OF THE HOUSE, FIRING THEIR PISTOLS.” loudly and defiantly, a Bulgar revolutionary song. The corporal waited until the song was finished, when he repeated his summons, and this time a voice replied, ‘‘ Are you a Turk or a Bulgar?” “Thanks be to God,” shouted the corporal, “Tam a Turk.” The reply came immediately after in the form of a bomb, which was hurled through the window and exploded outside, but fortunately without doing any injury. This was quickly followed by two more bombs, which set fire to the thatch of the house. ‘Then came further bombs, and, under cover of their explosion and the smoke from the burning roof, three Bulgarians, armed with revolvers, having rifles slung across their shoulders, dashed out of the house, firing their pistols at the soldiers. The latter promptly fired back and two of the insur- gents fell mortally wounded. The third, although apparently slightly injured in the leg, took refuge in the adjoining house, closing the door behind him, and barring it with the beam which all these houses have, fitting into slots on either side of the doorway. From this position he continued to fire upon us with both revolver and rifle. In the meantime some of the soldiers had forced an entry into the burning building and dragged out the bodies of their dead comrades. The insurgent who had taken refuge in the adjoining house had already been recognised as MAGAZINE. the notorious Captain Gorrshay, who for six years had been the head of the revolutionary movement among the Bulgars in the north - western por- tion of the vilayet of Monastir. He was badly “wanted,” and it was not likely that he could escape now. He continued to keep up a brisk fire from the window of the house, however, with a view to drawing the soldiers out, but the latter very wisely kept under cover, contenting themselves by return- ing his fire from posi- tions of safety, and aim- ing in the direction from whence his shots came. Apparently this sort of thing was too slow for Gorrshay, and he must have realized that he was safely trapped, for he proceeded to commit a most foolhardy act in order to release him- self. He set fire to the house in which he was, thinking probably to get away under cover of the smoke. As a matter of fact, however, it made his position worse than ever. The flames shot up fiercely, and the form of the notorious brigand was clearly silhouetted against the lurid glow. Instantly half-a-dozen rifles were levelled at the figure, a volley rang out, and the wretched man dropped back out of our view. The fire crackled and sputtered, and flames roared out of the windows, licking above the eaves. Desperately the soldiers strove to effect an entry, but their efforts proved futile; the heat was too intense to be withstood. Very soon the roof fell in with a crash, and the flames shot upwards in a column of fire. So perished Captain Gorrshay, so long the terror of the district. Upon searching the bodies of the other two brigands we found in the waistband of one of them another bomb and two revolvers. Further search of the village revealed three rifles—one a Mauser, which was recognised as the weapon taken from a Turkish soldier who had been assassinated a year before, while on sentry duty, on the railway. In the end fifteen villagers were arrested, including the mendacious moukhtar and the schoolmaster, and ,all were duly punished.

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IN THE SERVICE OF THE SULTAN. 225 “HALF-A-DOZEN RIFLES WERE LEVELLED AT THE FIGURE AND A VOLLEY RANG 0U7.” Upon another occasion I had an experience which, although embarrassing, was at the same time not without a humorous side. One Mohammed Shitta Bey had built a mosque at Lagos, West Africa, at his own expense, the building costing between five and six thousand pounds. In recognition of this the Sultan conferred a decoration upon him, and I was entrusted with the duty of conveying it to him, together with the Sultan’s thanks and approval. I arranged to be present at the opening of the mosque, which was a very elaborate ceremony, and was very largely attended, people travelling long distances to be present. Everything went smoothly enough until the morning of the eventful day, when, while sitting in a room of Shitta Bey’s house, which was situated near the mosque, Shitta Bey himself entered in great perturbation. For some time he walked up and down, apparently much exercised in his mind, ejaculating continually, “ Here’s a pretty Vol. xvii.—29. business! This will ruin every- thing!” At last I inquired what was wrong, and he then informed me that a native chief had arrived from theinterior, accompanied by an extensive re- tinue, and that the main object of his visit was to offer me two of his daughters in marriage ! At first this in- formation some- what amused me, and I confess that I laughed outright, much tothe annoyance of the perturbed Shitta Bey, who took the matter very seriously in- deed. He ex- plained to me that it was no laughing matter, that such a potentate was all - powerful in his own domin- ions, and was not used to being thwarted in his wishes, and that a refusal on my part to wed his daughters would be taken by him as a personal affront and might lead to all sorts of trouble! This placed the matter in an alto- gether different light. I was, and am, a married man with a family, and the contemplation of such an alliance alarmed me considerably. My merriment subsided suddenly, and we discussed the matter with much gravity, with a view to finding some way out of the dilemma. It appvared that the dusky potentate had been travelling for three weeks, by means of canoes over the lagoons, and that this offer of his daughters to the Sultan’s emissary was regarded by him as a fitting honour in commemoration of the auspicious occasion. The task that lay before us, of course, was to avoid offending the dusky monarch, while at the same time refusing his magnanimous offering. Finally I decided to meet him, and endeavour to argue the matter with him, The (meeting took place in the

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226 THE WIDE compound attached to Shitta Bey’s house. ‘The stalwart savage, surrounded by a crowd of followers, proceeded to make a most elaborate speech, which was interpreted to me, and in which he dwelt at great length upon the personal charms and the many virtues of his two daughters, named respectively Fatima and Ayesha, whom he wished to bestow upon me. He was most impressive and very eloquent, but I am afraid I did not fully appreciate his earnestness and manifest good intentions. All the time I was revolving in my mind what to say in reply ; how to excuse myself from his embarrassing offer without hurting his feelings and causing a bother. At length he concluded, and in response I launched forth into an elaborate harangue, in the course of which I thanked him with fulsome gratitude, expressed my sense of my unworthi- ness to accept such an honour, and ventured to point out to him that, much as I should desire to become possessed of two such treasures as Fatima and Ayesha, yet, inasmuch as we were of such diverse nationali- ties, such an alliance most unfortu- nately appeared to me to be im- practicable. With this objection my speech concluded, and I hoped that I had made it clear and reasonable that I could not accept his offer. But I was not to be let off so From a) THK MEETING TOOK PLACE IN THE CO\POUND ATTACHED TO SHITTA BEV'S HOUSE.” WORLD MAGAZINE. lightly. His Majesty would not accept this as an ade- quate excuse, and he pro- ceeded to reply at consider- able length, pointing out that difference of nation- ality need be no bar, inas- much as according to the teachings of the Koran all true believers were breth- ren! This placed me upon very dangerous ground, and for the moment I was puzzlcd what to say in reply. Then it occurred to me to plead the already replete condition of my quiver, and I proceeded, to the running accompaniment of further deep regrets, to explain that “my household” (I avoided using the word “wife,” as it was clear that a multiplicity of helpmeets was quite a natural thing according to His Majesty’s ideas) was already at its full com- plement, and that according to the laws of my country I might not add to its number. This appeared to convince him, he no doubt taking the word “household ”—as I had intended him to—to indicate wives, and I was very gratified when he accepted this version of my matrimonial affairs in good faith and humour, and refrained from further expatiating on the irresistible personal attractions of Fatima and Ayesha. 1 have always looked upon that affair, however, as one of my narrowest escapes. THE MOSQUE WHOSE INAUGURATION. MR. QUILLIAM ATTENDED ON BEHALF OF THE SULTAN —IT WAS IN CONNECTION WITH THIS EYENT THAT HE MET WITH THE EMBARRASSING PREDICAMENT DESCRIBED (IN (THIS)STORY. (Photo.

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Unique in the Annals of Crime. By His Honour Jupcre Prowse, K.C., LL.D., or St. JoHN’s, NEWFOUNDLAND. In this narrative the distinguished Colonial judge tells for the first time the strange story of the forged Newfoundland bank-notes—a case which is, as he says, ‘unique in the aonals of crime.” By the exercise of ingenuity rivalling that of the immortal Sherlock Holmes, Judge Prowse was enabled to elucidate the mystery, his theory of the crime proving correct even in the most minute particulars. g VER and over again I have been pressed to tell the story of the strange robbery and partial forgery of ten thousand pounds’ worth of Colonial notes at the French Colony of St. Pierre, and the remarkable way in which the offenders were brought to justice. [ have at last decided to do so in the pages of THE WiDE Wor-tp MaGazine. The title of my story, perhaps, needs some explanation. So far as 1 know the crime I tracked out is unique. ‘The only other case at all like it that I have heard of was the robbery of boxes of Indian stamps cast ashore intact from a wrecked ship in the Red Sea, and after- wards fraudulently circu- lated throughout Bengal, Bombay, and Madras, whereby the Government of India lost sixty thou- sand pounds. The per- petrators of this fraud were never discovered. And now for my own narrative. For thirty years it was my cust.m as a Government official to indulge in an autumnal holiday. Periodically I informed the ruling powers that my heavy judicial labours — were impairing my health, and that in order to serve the public efficiently my massive intellect required some weeks’ repose. ‘These applica- tions, curiously enough, always corresponded with the grouse-shooting season. Come what might, I was determined to shoot and camp out every season. One year there was neither assistant judge nor clerk of the peace to take THE AUTHOR, HIS HONOUR JUDGE PROWSE, K.C., LL.D. From a Photo, my place. ‘lo leave the city and district for several days without judge or magistrate seemed outrageous, but “ where there’s a will there’s a way.” I cleared off every possible case, and left behind me a clean docket. It was on this occasion that I first became connected with the remarkable case of the forged bank-notes. I had thoroughly enjoyed a delightful fortnight’s holiday and was on my way home when a telegraph boy ran after me with this message: “Bring back Miller, of St. Pierre, now on_ his way to Holyrood.” ‘This was curious. The Minister of Justice did not seem to have taken into consideration — the fact that I had not a shadow of legal authority to compel “ Miller” to return with me to the capital. | However, the Government had for years looked on me as a sort of handy-man for all kinds of work. At one time I was district judge, police-magistrate, by statute also police- inspector, chairman of the Board of Health, surrogate of the Admi- ralty Court, president of the Royal Marine Court of Inquiry, and, to crown all, they appointed me Naval Commander of the Bait Squadron ! I had hard work to persuade Miller to return. He was, however, a Frenchman (though bearing an English name), and in mighty dread of the law. His story was a very simple one. A young woman, of rather dubious antecedent-, had brought to his shop in St. Pierre a blank five-pound Commercial Bank note, complete in

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228 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. every respect save for the manager’s and ac- countant’s signatures. Miller took this paper to the bank in St. John’s and asked for payment. The officials laughed at him. No one in the establishment seems to have comprehended at the time what the incident of this unsigned note really meant. ‘Vo explain its real sig- nificance it is necessary to go back a little. Several years before the Com- mercial Bank of St. John’s, Newfoundland, — ordered through their stationers, Messrs. W. Brown and Co., of London, ten thou- sand pounds’ worth of five- pound notes. ‘Ihese were done up in booklets of one hundred, enclosed in a tin-lined case, and then packed in a strong wooden box, securely bound with iron. This box was ship- ped out to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and there trans- ferred to the steamer Gasp, for St. John’s. On the passage down the ship ran ashore on the Dunes, a sandbank be tween Great and Little Miquelon, near St. Pierre. The crew were saved, but in a furious southerly gale the old vessel was dashed to pieces and her cargo destroyed. The bank recovered the insurance on their box, and for years after no more was heard of the ill-fated Gaspé. After Miller’s application the bank officials began to get alarmed. This blank note, they realized, must be one of the issue lost in the steamer! The puzzle was, how had it reappeared? An examination of their currency revealed more notes of the same issue, with—worst of all— the necessary signatures forged ! On this startling discovery the bank people became greatly disturbed, and in consequence I was ordered by telegraph to find Miller and bring him back. I did so, but the man gave us little assistance. All we discovered was that the girl who gave him the note had in turn received it from a fisherman named Jacquard, of Miquelon. The case was now left in my hands, and a “MILLER TOOK THIS PAPER TO THE RANK IN ST. JOHN'S AND ASKED FOR PAYMENT.” nice mystery it looked. The amount of informa- tion I possessed upon which to base any theory of the crime was as follows. I had before me one blank, unsigned note—that presented by Miller—and a dozen or so other notes of the same issue bearing forged signatures of the manager and ac- countant. I learned how they had been packed in the box in which they travelled. Further, I knew the French islands of St. Pierre, and also some- thing about the ways of their inhabitants. From the time the case was put into my hands, curiously enough, it took com- plete possession of me. 1 could think of nothing else. By degrees, as I cogitated over the known facts, every incident of the affair became as clearly visible to me as if I had been bodily present and actually seen the whole proceedings with my own eyes. T wrote out an account of the complete chain of events as I believed they had occurred. I felt as sure of them as of my own exist- ence. As the result will show, every por- tion of my theory, down to the smallest detail, turned out to be true to facts. I described how the box had come ashore at Miquelon intact ; how it had been found by a fisherman, who showed it to another; that between them they had taken the notes, or some of them, to a low shopkeeper or huckster of St. Pierre. This go-between in his turn had found an educated man of some position to execute the forgeries. 1 described the four actors in the fraud and the part that each took in the conspiracy—the man who found the box and his companion at Miquelon, the marine- store dealer to whom they took the notes, and the educated man who. forged the signatures,

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UNIQUE IN THE ANNALS OF CRIME. 229 I also expressed my opinion that not more than fifty of the notes had gone through the hands of the forger. When I came to tell my tale before the manager and directors of the bank they were astonished, but it was evident that they listened to me with absolute incredulity. My theories would have been thrown aside altogether but for the action of John W. Smith, a trained and experienced financier and manager of the Union Bank. He informed the sceptics that in his opinion I was absolutely right in my views, and he urged them to send me to St. Pierre at once to investigate. The directors, however, did not believe in me, “The ink used is French,” I replied. “The forged notes have all come from the French colony, or from places trading with St. Pierre ; none from northern outports that do no business there.” I further informed the perturbed bankers that the two who were executing the forgeries and putting the paper into circulation were men of means and position who had something to lose, consequently they were acting with extreme caution and putting out the notes by ones and “CCTHIS IS AN EXTRAORDINARY STORY OF YOURS,” SAID THE MANAGER.” and practically told me so in dismissing me. Nevertheless, shortly afterwards, I was again summoned to their presence. ‘his time they were thoroughly frightened, for more forged notes had been discovered. “This is an extraordinary story of yours,” said the manager. ‘“ Have you any outside facts to ‘© upon that we do not know ?” “ Absolutely none,” I said. “You say the box was washed ashore intact and unbroken ; how do you know that?” “Very simply. The notes are clean and unstained by sea water. They run in consecu- tive numbers out of one booklet. That is proof that they have not been in the water or blown about the beach.” “You are very positive this work was done at St. Pierre. How do you prove that?” twos. added. Here I fancy the reader will say, “ Your explanations are all very well, but how could you possibly know both the number and character of the persons who were engaged in the conspiracy? You probably made a happy hit, but after all it was pure guess-work.” Well, in tracing out crime one should know not only the character but the antecedents, habits, and motives of the accused. One should also be able to piece together the broken links in the slender chain of evidence, and the imagi- nation should work over all the probabilities and possibilities in the case. I had consider- able experience of wrecks and wreckers ; I knew all about the fisherman’s ways and exactly what he would do in sucha case as;this. Whilst in “Not more than fifty notes are out,” I

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230 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. imagination I saw the very actors in the drama, it was by a clear chain of reasoning that my mind worked out the problem. I knew from his actions that Jacquard, the fellow who gave the unsigned note to the girl, was the finder of the box. ‘That he had an accomplice was clear from two facts—firstly, the box would be too heavy for one man to handle ; and, secondly, the working out showed another and more cunning hand. As beach-combers and gatherers of wrecked goods the finders would hold the fisherman’s creed that gifts from the ocean were “EVERVONE I MET USED TO ASK ME, SWELL, JUDGE, HAVE VOU CAUGHT. THE FORGEKS?" theirs, and theirs only, sent to them by special Providence. ‘To hide these from the authorities and sell them on the sly to the marine-store dealer would be their obvious course of pro- cedure. They would take the nutes to an old rascal in this line of business. Being illiterate, he would be obliged to resort to a fourth man, educated enough to copy the signatures from legally-signed notes in circulation among the islands. The bank directors were still in doubt, but at Mr. Smith’s urgent insistence they applied to the Government. The Attorney-General, Sir J. J. Little, would not agree to my going on what he called a “ wild-goose chase.” However, the Premier prevailed, and I was sent off so hurriedly at the last that I had not even time to go home and change my shooting-coat. After a short but stormy passage of twenty hours in alittle tub of a steamer of only twenty tons, I arrived at the small French island of St. Pierre. My business there soon made me the butt and laughing-stock of the idle and witty Pierrois. I shall never forget my first interview with the French Colonial authorities. ‘They were most polite and cordial, but evidently thought that the idea of a smart and daring piece of roguery having been perpetrated by the stupid Norman and Breton fishermen of their little colony was altogether too absurd. Every- one I met used to ask me with a sardonic grin, “Well, judge, have you caught the forgers of the dllets de banque?” The Chief Justice and Procureur Imperial emphatically declared that the work was done by the Gasfé’s Yankee crew. They had stolen the box of notes, they said, taken them to New York, and forged the signatures in America. Well aware of the difficulties placed in the way of foreigners dealing with French officials, I had come provided. with a,very strong and

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UNIQUE IN THE ANNALS OF CRIME. 231 urgent letter from our Governor Hill, requesting the St. Pierre authorities to aid me in every way. I knew the ruler of the little colony and his wife, and I found both most cordial. Mme. Joubert, a cousin of Paul de Cassagnac, was sympathetic ; his Excellency the little Governor, polite but incredulous. He told me that it was my vivid imagination that had conjured up the story. ‘Our Bretons are far too dé¢e for such a finished and artistic business as this con- spiracy,” he said. I pointed out to him the intimate relations between the colonies, their constant use of our — bank-notes, and the fact that a large forged issue would in- jure his people as well as ours. All through the busi- ness I must say that the Governor assisted me very cordially, yet I had always to be rigidly on my guard in dealing with him. The only actual bit of evidence that I could pro- duce at first to the St. Pierre authorities was the statement from the girl that the blank, unsigned _five- pound note produced by Miller, which I had brought with me, had been given to her by a fisher- man called Jacquard, living at Miquelon, the larger island of the St. Pierre group. I spent several days trying to get the Chief Justice (who was also Procureur Imperial) to bring over Jacquard from Miquelon and commence the inquiry. I pointed out that this was the man who had found the box. He was evidently a very simple fellow, or he would not have given the girl the blank note. As the box was full of stationery besides the notes, it would be too heavy for one man to carry. I traced out the whole story for him, and he made a note of it; but, all the same, I could “ JACQUARD GAVE WAY AND MADE A FULL CONFESSION.” see he did not believe me, and kept putting me off. - One morning I burst into the presence of the two assistant judges. Whether it was my impulsive manner or my very execrable French, I do not know, but his Honour had a fainting fit. The wags promptly sent the report abroad that I had killed the judge ! After another urgent appeal to the Governor, Jacquard was at last brought over from Miquelon. He proved to be a typical Norman, pig-headed and obstinate, and apparently in- tensely stupid. Confronted with the girl, he flatly denied giv- ing her the blank note. Even the French — inquisi- torial system failed to get any- thing out of this disappointing wit- ness, and I was almost in despair. The Procureur, however, was now on his mettle. ‘The obstinacy of Jacquard, his denial of such an obvious fact as his giving the note, made the Procureur suspect that there was a secret behind all this. He noticed also the start Jacquard gave when my_ story was told to him. Inquiries were made. It was found out that the prisoner had been a good deal in company with another Norman called Roblot, a farmer and fisherman. ‘They had also made several secret trips to St. Pierre, and had been seen about the shop of an old marine-store dealer called Bunot. So, according to the Gallic method—without any evidence, and merely on suspicion—Roblot and all his family were brought over to be examined. After two days of cross-heckling and every kind of pressure nothing was discovered, and all the witnesses, with the exception of Jacquard, were allowed to return home to Miquelon. Two days after their dispatch, either from the solitary confinement or the. pricking of his guilty con-

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232 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. science, the prisoner Jacquard gave way and made a full confession. 4 Months after the loss of the Gaspé and far away from the scene of the wreck, he said, whilst walking on Miquelon beach, he came across a large wooden box strongly bound with iron. Whilst in the act of opening the box his neighbour, Roblot, came along. The inside tin lining was cut open, and then, to his disappoint- ment, Jacquard found only a lot of small booklets. “You fool!” said Roblot, “that’s money!” Jacquard then went on to relate how they carried the box up to the woods after nightfall and hid it away. After some time they went to St. Pierre, and showed a bundle of the notes to an old marine- store dealer called Bunot. This rascal then made a bargain with them to divide the spoils, Bunot, of course, getting the lion’s share. Bunot was very ignorant, but very rich. He had in- fluence enough over a young Frenchman of education and good family to make him join in Thus the conspiracy and forge the signatures. for two years or more Bunot had been circulating the false notes in a very cautious way, and the actual forger had died be- fore the trial came on. This discovery was a great coup. ‘The Procureur was wild with delight, and, of course, claimed all the credit. Rejoiced as I was over the con- fession, I felt at the same time in a terrible predica- ment, for Roblot had gone home, and all the notes, with the exception of one booklet, remained in his possession. Un- less I secured the whole of the remaining one thousand nine hundred and fifty unsigned notes I felt that my mission to St. Pierre would be a failure. What would Roblot do? That was the momentous question. Would the fear of discovery lead him to destroy the notes, or would he feel assured, after the failure of the Procureur to elicit any information, that the “SHOW ME THE NOTES, OR YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!" secret was safe? My confidence mainly rested in his avarice—that all-devouring passion which so often leads men to their undoing. ‘To add to my anxiety a fog came down like a blanket and there was no possible communica- tion with Miquelon. Just at this critical juncture of affairs, however, the little Newfoundland steamer Greyhound put into St. Pierre. The captain, Jacob Simms, was an old friend of mine. 1 explained my position to him, and he agreed to help me. He was on his way to Harbour Briton, and so Miquelon lay in his course. He offered to land myself, a police officer, and a pilot. Now the question arose, could I persuade the touchy little Governor to allow his official to be taken to Miquelon in an English steamer? My friend McLoughlan, an American, came to my assistance. Between us we drew up a most respect- ful memorial to his Excellency, waited upon him with it, and finally obtained his consent. My next move was to get hold of M. Can- taloupe, the chief of the local gendarmerie, a fine, stolid old soldier. My con- stant ally, the host of the Lion d’Or, M. Hackela, Cape- faine des Sapeurs Pompiers, —_ other- wise head of the fire brigade, showed me how to handle this official.’ “You must drive it into his head and keep on at it,” said Hackela. So, with his assistance, I pro- cured two bottles of the best Cognac that St. Pierre could afford and the- choicest cigars. At nightfall =I went across like a conspi- rator, and spent nearly the whole evening with the old warrior. Over and over again we went through the programme for the next day. In pantomime, under my instruction, my bold brigadier would go up to Roblot, pistol in hand and sword by his side. “ Roblot,” he cried, fiercely, “show me the box of notes, or you are a dead man!” Next morning our little steamer set off in

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UNIQUE IN THE ANNALS OF CRIME. 233 From a) the densest of fogs. M. Cantaloupe and the pilot were landed at Miquelon. The chief marched up into the hills, caught Roblot wood- gathering, put the pistol to his head, and faithfully repeated the formula I had taught him: “ Show me the notes, Roblot, or you are a dead man!” Cantaloupe, backed by the revolver, had a mighty taking manner, and soon, carefully con- cealed in a dense thicket, the box of notes was revealed intact, with only the single booklet missing. There was great excitement in the little island next day when Cantaloupe marched up to the Palais de Justice with the box. I was not present at the trial, but I learned afterwards that M. Solomon, the prisoners’ counsel, made an eloquent appeal to the national feelings of the jury. “Would they convict their own countrymen, he pleaded, “at the instance of such an individual as the one who had come there, pretending to THE PUBLIC OFFICES AT ST. VIEKRE, WHERE JUDGE PROWSE INTERVIEWED THE AUTHORITIES, (Photo. represent the British authorities in the case?” However, the prisoners were duly convicted and sentenced, Bunot, the old marine-store dealer, the chief criminal, totwenty-one years’ penal servitude, Roblot to fourteen, and Jacquard to seven years. In conclusion I must briefly record one most amusing episode in this curious affair. The bank directors and their manager, finding results so long delayed, lost faith in me. They took it into their heads that a certain Franco-American gentleman, connected with the telegraph com- pany, was the real culprit. So day after day this suspected official would hand me messages about himself and his supposed crimes, and 1 had to gravely hand back my replies, promising faithfully to attend to their instructions about him. The official was always as solemn as an owl. I must confess, however, that I had hard work at times to keep my countenance. And so ended my connection with this remarkable case. ONE OF THE FORGED NOTES. Vol. xvii.—a0. QR

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THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS: The Cruise of the ‘* Neptune.” By LawrENcE J. BURPEE. An authoritative record of the Canadian Government expedition to the Arctic regions. The “Neptune” visited many historic points, and the experiences of those on board make very interesting reading. The article is illustrated with striking photographs taken by Mr. A. P. Low, the commander of the expedition. EN who do big things are sometimes | afflicted with excessive modesty, and, to my sorrow, I found Mr. A. P. Low suffering from the complaint when I attempted to elicit some par- ticulars of his voyage to the Arctic seas, in command of the Canadian Government expedi- tion. He tried to put me off with a copy of his official report to the Minister of Marine—a record that does not appeal to the unofficial imagination ; he repudiated the idea that any- thing of human interest had been omitted from the report, and he parried my queries as to the part he had himself played in the expedition. It was, in fact, only by dint of obstinacy that I finally managed to drag out of this very uncom- municative explorer an account of his expedition to Hudson Bay and beyond—an expedition which is none the less important because it has not been heralded far and wide. % a The Neptune left Halifax toward the end of August, 1903, with a picked crew of thirty-four men, including the officers. A small detach- ment of the North-West Mounted Police, under Commissioner Moodie, also accompanied the expedition. With Mr. Low, the commander, went an assistant geologist and a naturalist. Coasting the shores of Nova Scotia, the Neptune crossed the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and as she passed through the Strait of Belle Isle, where Forteau Light flashes its warning to mariners, Mr. Low signalled his temporary fare- well to civilization. On the 28th of the month they passed the mouth of Hamilton Inlet, and it was the irony of fate that at the very moment when poor Hubbard, the American explorer, was struggling pluckily over that impossible route to Lake Michikamau, the one man who could have set him right was off the coast of Labrador. Low THE “NEPTUNE” OF® THE ROCK-BOUND COAST OF LABRADOR.

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THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS. 235 From a) knows more about Labrador, perhaps, than any other man living, but it was no fault of his that Leonidas Hubbard and Dillon Wallace followed a purely problematical river, laid down upon Low’s map merely as a dotted line.* Following the wild, rugged coast of Labrador, and picking their way through a sea strewn with magnificent icebergs, the party reached Port Burwell, where there is a small trading post. A few days later they landed at a place on Cumberland Gulf rejoicing in the name of Blacklead. This is one of the chief posts of the whale fishery, which of recent years has been regaining a little of its old-time vigour. The fishery is carried on in whale-boats manned by Eskimos, each boat having a crew of five natives. Two whales were captured in the spring of 1903, the first for several years ; and at Cape Haven, on the southern shore of Cumberland Gulf, only three have been secured in twelve years. For- tunately the men are able to ke out a living with such small fry as seals, walrus, and Polar bears, three thousand of the former having been captured at Blacklead in 1903. Passing Resolution Island, the Meptune entered Hudson Strait and steamed through to Cape Wolstenholme, at the western end, _ "Hubbard and Wallace tried to penetrate into the unknown interior of Labrador, but Hubbard perished from hunger and hard- ship, while his companion barely esca; ed with his life. HOISTING THE BRITISH FLAG AT CAPE ISABEL. without misadventure. It is evident, from Commander Low’s official report, that under ordinary conditions the straits are navigable at least up to the end of Septem- ber. The care- fulobservations taken on board the Neptune on her four trips through the straits are of the utmost importance, as tending to verify the favourable re- ports of pre- vious explorers, and establish the com- mercial feasibility of the Hudson Bay route. Before leaving the straits a walrus hunt was organized, to provide food for the dogs during the winter. The ship was anchored for the night behind a group of small islands, where walrus had been seen, and early the next morning the men started out in asmall steam launch. Upon rounding a point several hundred walrus were discovered, swimming about in bands of ten or a dozen. Singling out a con- venient group, the launch was put forward at full steam. Promptly all the walrus went under, reappearing several hundred yards off to the right. The launch was put about and the chase resumed. Again the walrus dived. The chase grew hotter and hotter, and at last the pace got too swift for the walrus. Their dives grew shorter and shorter, until they were almost con- tinuously above water. Finally, the launch shot up behind one monster, almost over its back, and a whale-spear attached to a water-keg was plunged home, the boat being immediately put full steam astern. A fusillade was opened upon the now infuriated animal to prevent it from attacking the boat, but notwithstanding this heavy fire he almost succeeded in getting his tusks over the side of the launch, giving the crew a moment or two of keen excitement. The hunt was continued for several. hours, and altogether seven of the walrus were secured. When hoisted on board they almost filled the after-deck. [ Photo.

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236 THE WIDE WORLD Crossing the northern waters of Hudson Bay the Neptune reached her winter resting-place at Cape Fullerton before the end of September. Here she found an American whaling schooner, the Zra, already in winter quarters. Meantime Mr. Low had left the ship in the steam-launch for a five hundred-mile trip to the head of Chesterfield Inlet, to secure from the Eskimos a supply of fresh meat, as well as deer- skins for winter clothing. The launch ran into a heavy sea crossing to the mouth of the inlet, and the little craft MAGAZINE. mouth of the inlet. Early the next morning they were off again, following the coast northward. For two days they hugged the shore, and then struck out boldly across the open sea. It was late in the season, and in this Arctic latitude even the Eskimos, who are the most fearless and skilful boatmen in the world, do not venture too far from the coast. The Veptune must be reached, however, and every moment’s delay lessened the chances of getting across at all. As they left the shelter of the bay where they was buffeted about pretty freely before she finally reached sheltered waters. Low and his men camped for the night on a small island about fifty miles up the inlet. Leaving at daybreak the next morning they arrived, about breakfast time, at an encampment of Eskimos. The men were away hunting, and they learned from the women, through their interpreter, that all the deer-skins had already been sent over to the Era. Con- tinuing up the inlet they reached another encamp- ment, where they were more fortunate, securing an ample supply of skins and fresh meat. Starting on their return journey at sunrise, aided by a fairly strong cur- rent, they anchored for the night among some islands and shoals not Nd J far from the mouth of — “vem a) the inlet. Near midnight the launch grounded, about an hour from low water, and before anything could be done to prevent it she turned over on her side and partly filled. Desperate efforts were made to lighten and right the boat, but the incoming tide was now upon them, and she rapidly filled and sank, leaving the forlorn little party stranded on a barren island, with the Neptune many miles away at Cape Fullerton, and the only means of reaching her a frail little fourteen foot dinghy. Three of the men—Wells, Ford, and Scotty —with the Eskimo pilot, volunteered to make the perilous trip, while the others crossed to the mainland and resigned themselves to await with what patience they could the doubtful course of events. The four in the dinghy left about dark, and camped for the night on an island well out in the “ DOMINION DAY” ON BOARD THE “ NEPTUNE,” IN WINTER QUARTERS. : (Photo, had made their last encampment they realized for the first time the seriousness of their situa- tion. A heavy wind had risen from the north, and the seas were running high. The icy spray benumbed their hands and feet. They raised as much sail as they dared, and flew forward at reckless speed, though someone had to be con- stantly occupied in bailing out the seas that broke over the side with alarming frequency. About nightfall, weary and dispirited, they at last caught a glimpse of land, and managed finally to work into a small cove, where they camped for the night. The following morning they reached the epfune, which immediately got up steam and made for the inlet. On the afternoon of October 3rd, Low and his anxious companions were gladdened by seeing the smoke of the vessel, which had grounded twice, out of sight of land, on'this dangerous, uncharted

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THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS. 237 THE NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE PUST, ESTABLISHED BY COMMISSIONER MOODIE, AT CAPE FULLERTON. From a Photo, coast. With assistance they succeeded in raising the launch, and the entire party then returned to Cape Fullerton. One of the objects of the expedition had been to establish a post of the North-West Mounted Police somewhere on the north- western coast of Hudson Bay, and Com- missioner Moodie decided to make his head-quarters at Cape Fullerton, where he would be in comparatively close touch with the whalers whose operations cover the northern waters of the bay. Commissioner Moodie, like most of the officers of that remarkable force the North- West Mounted Police, has had an eventful career. He has seen service from one end of the Dominion to the other, and may be remem- bered as the leader of the perilous overland expedition of a few years ago, from Edmonton to Dawson City. The field covered by the Mounted Police is really astonishing, especially when it is remem- bered that altogether they number considerably under a thousand men. ‘They are not only found everywhere throughout the Canadian North-West, keeping a watchful eye on both Indians and whites, but when one crosses the mountains into British Columbia the familiar uniform of the police is still in evidence. They have maintained law and order in the Yukon with marvellous success, and their patrols range far and wide throughout the vast wilderness of Athabasca and the unorganized territories of the far north. At the moment of writing Major Don Howard, who commanded one of the squadrons of Strathcona’s Horse in South ‘e THE ESKIMO WINTER VILLAGE BUILT NEAR THE “‘ NEPTUNE.’ 2 | e (Photo. CQO

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238 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) A BEVY OF ESKIMO BEAUTIES. (Photo. Africa, is on his way down the Mackenzie River, with a small force of police, to establish a post on Herschell Island, near the mouth of the Mac- kenzie River, where for three years he is expected to keep order among the Eskimos and_ the unruly whalers who come into these Arctic waters through —_ Behring Sea. Steps have already been taken to connect the Mounted Police posts at Dawson and _Herschell Island by an over- land patrol, and it is probable that in time connection will also be made with the new post on Hudson Bay. The rapid ap- proach of winter made it neces- sary to get the Neptune at once into shape for 7 THE INTRKIOR OF AN ESKIMO SNOW-HOUSE, the cold season. The ship was first swung so as to head true north; then the decks were roofed over with rough lumber, and as soon as the ice was thick enough a wall of snow blocks about two feet thick was built completely around the vessel, reaching as high as the bridge deck. Sails were spread over the temporary roof and © covered with snow, and everything made snug and warm for the long Arctic winter. To counteract the monotony and depression of the long, dark, dreary time of waiting, Mr. Low made work for his men, and the intervals a aS

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THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS. 239 From aj were filled up with amusements of various kinds. Indoor games were resorted to, as well as read- ings by some of the officers, a weekly lecture on Wednesday, and a dance on Thursday. A dance was also given on board the Zra every Saturday evening, to which the Eskimos, who had built their winter village around the two ships, were always invited. Some of the leisure daylight was spent in hunting seals and walrus, visiting fox-traps, hauling ice for water, and keeping the ship clear of snow. Mr. Low is not only an intellectual man, eminent in his own departments, but also a first- rate all-round athlete. It is not surprising, then, to learn that among the varied assortment of things that made up the cargo of the Meprune was a football. Before the long Arctic night drove the men indoors Mr. Low had organized a couple of football teams from the combined crews of the Neptune and Era and the Mounted Police, and had got them into pretty good shape. One bright morning, when the sun had reached the highest point of its narrowing arch across the southern horizon, the unique spectacle might have been witnessed of a hotly-contested foot- ball match, played by men thickly encased in furs, on a leyel field of ice, well within the Arctic circle. On either side stood groups of MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION LEAVING THE SHIP ON AN EXPLORING TRIP. [Photo, Eskimos, taking as keen an_ interest in the game as any crowd at Oxford or Cambridge. The Eskimos, indeed, have their own peculiar game of football, which, though perhaps not quite so exhilarating as the Anglo-Saxon game, is sufficiently exciting. After some minor explorations and surveys around Chesterfield Inlet and Southampton Island, the Mepfune left her winter quarters on the 18th July, and, passing through Hudson Straits to Port Burwell, where the Zr7k had arrived from Halifax an hour before with supplies, she started on a cruise to the north. The course was north-east, past the great island of Disco, with its snow-capped mountains rising four thousand feet above the sea, and its valleys filled with gigantic glaciers, to the Green- land coast; then back to the westward across Melville Bay to Cape York, and on to the “ North Water ” of the whalers. On the oth of August they passed the great Petiwak Glacier. The sea was covered in every direction with icebergs, large and small, that had broken from the glacier, and the strange Midnight Sun was reflected from the glacier to the icebergs, the peaks and minarets of the latter flashing and sparkting like gigantic diamonds. The following day the eptune passed Cape Parry, crossing between Northampton and Her- From aj A UNIQUE GAME OF FOOTBALL IN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE—IT WAS PLAYED ON THE ICE, ‘rere rue “NEPTUNE” AND THE AMERICAN WHALER) [ERA WS OF THE Cc (Photo,

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240 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. bert islands to the north side of Inglefield Gulf. On the shores of Etah Bay they found some of the turf-houses of the Arctic ‘ Highlanders,” but the inhabitants had gone inland, probably hunting. A small pile of coal was found here, left by Peary on one of his earlier attempts to reach the Pole. They were now on one of the most historic of these rugged Arctic coasts, every cape and bay having witnessed the disastrous conclusion of some Polar expedition. A few miles south of Etah is the lonely grave of Sontag, the astronomer, who went north with Dr. Kane in 1852, but never returned. To the northward SS SSOSSSKENTZEZ ESBS KOEN 5 \ From a Photo. lies Lifeboat Cove, where the Po/aris came to grief and Kane and Hayes suffered. Cape Sabine, on the western side of the sound, wit- nessed the final disasters, starvation, and death of the ill-fated Greely expedition. Landing at Cape Sabine, Mr. Low and some of the officers walked over to Parry’s last head- quarters, the hut —originally the deck - house of the Windward—being still standing. Close to it is another small shanty, where the Stein party wintered. Turning south again, and none too soon, for the heavy ice pouring past Cape Sabine had placed the vessel more than once in a very critical position, they steamed down the western coast, and, coming round to the south-west end EIEIO NAC eg IPE ONG TI AE, FREEING THE SHIP'S KUDDER FROM ICE PREPAKATOKY TO LEAVING WINTER QUARTERS. of North Devon, dropped anchor, on the morn- ing of the 15th, in Erebus Harbour. This historic spot, where Franklin wintered for the last time before passing with the Erebus and Zerror to the westward, and perishing in the final hopeless attempt to get southward to one of the Hudson Bay Company’s posts, is, as Mr. Low says, one of the most interesting places in the Arctic. All the Franklin relief expe- ditions sent out in search of the missing ships made their head-quarters here, and even after filty years numerous traces were found of these parties, as well as of the Franklin expedition itself. As Mr. Low and his party landed from the : Neptune the first cbject that caught their eyes was the frame of a_ large storehouse, standing on a shingle terrace a few yards from the western shore of the harbour. Scattered about, “both inside and outside the building, were scores of casks of pro- visions, peas, flour, oatmeal, and cheese, all long since destroyed by the weather. Every- where lay hundreds of tins, which once contained the in- famous Goldner patent rations, be- lieved to have been one of the direct causes of the loss of the ill-fated expedi- tion. | Remnants of clothing and parts of leather boots were also found, as well as a two- wheeled cart of the Admiralty pattern. On the beach below were the wrecks of a large sloop and a lifeboat, left by the relief expeditions. Both had been badly broken by the ice. Portions of the mahogany planking of the lifeboat, as well as the two-wheeled cart, were brought away as souvenirs. On a small terrace, immediately behind the house, they found the wooden cenotaph erected tothe memory of Franklin and his crews; and lying alongside was the large marble slab sent there by a number of American sympathizers, and left by McClintock, who attached a brass plate to it, in 1858. Mr. Low had the slab raised and photographed and then returned to ——_ = — Ss —= we CSS "9.

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Froma) THE FRANKLIN MEMORIAL AT BEFCHEY ISLAND. its former position, inscription downward, beside the wooden monument. He has sent a recom- mendation to the Cana- dian Government that when the Neptune re- turns north this year material should be taken for a solid foundation for the slab, as it cannot be erected in the strong winds that blow about Erebus Harbour without some such precaution, About half a mile in rear of the house, on a desolate plain, were found five graves, con- taining the remains of several of Franklin’s men and of members of one of the relief expeditions. A sealed record was found attached to the cenotaph, and when Vol. xvii—31, -THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS. 241 opened it proved to have been left on August 24th, 1903, by the Swedish Mag- netic Pole Expedition in the sloop Gyoa. The record stated they were going south- ward down Peel Sound. It was taken on board to be sent to the Swedish Government. “At Beechey Island,” says Mr. Low in his official report, “no ice could be seen to the westward, in Barrow Strait, while northward only a few loose pans were in Wellington Channel ; and the prospects looked so favourable for a north-west passage that many of us regretted the lack of instructions to make such an attempt.” Between the lines of official decorum one reads the keenness of the temptation that must have beset a man of Mr. Low’s disposition to turn his ship into that in- viting open channel, with its blood-stirring promise of achieving the object of so many centuries’ search. The Neptune returned to Port Burwell, reaching there on Sunday, September 4th. She then turned west once more through Hudson Straits, to continue her explora- tion of the islands north of the bay. A fortnight later Cape Fullerton was reached, where stores for the Mounted Police, taken on at Port Burwell, were landed, and finally the Veptune turned homeward, reaching Halifax on October 11th, after an absence of a year and fifty-one days, during which she steamed over ten thousand miles through Arctic seas. AN ARCTIC|GRAVItVARD> (Photo,

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The Kidnapping of Eddie Brathwaite. By James KING. The audacious abduction of little “ Eddie’? Brathwaite, the son of a multi-millionaire, of Boston, U.S.A., caused widespread horror and indignation, and the desperate endeavours of his distracted parents to recover him were followed with the greatest interest. to know all the facis of the case, but in vain. story of how the daring scheme was conceived and carried out. Press and public alike clamoured Here, set down in full for the frst time, is the The narrative has been exclusively written for “The Wide World Magazine” by the man of all others best qualified for the task—James King, the leader of the gang of kidnappers—in his cell at the prison where he is undergoing a twenty years’ sentence for the crime. HEN little Eddie Brathwaite left his beautiful home on Common- wealth Avenue, in Boston, U.S.A., to go to school one bright morning in November, 1904, he little thought that it would be six long weeks ere he would again see his mother “and father, and that during that time he would travel from one end of America to the other, at first Sorely against his will, + Bt but later enjoying himself immensely, although a cap- tive in the hands of as des- | perate and daring a gang of “crooks” as even America could boast. The kidnapping of this boy caused such intense excite- ment that at one time no fewer than two hundred private de- tectives, as well as the regular United States officers, were scouring the country, leaving no stone unturned in a vain search for the missing lad. The daring and _ ingenious manner in which the boy was stolen was sufficient in itself to cause great public indigna- tion and a keen desire to cap- ture and punish his abductors. In conjunction with this it should be explained that Eddie Brathwaite was the son of a multi-millionaire, one of Boston’s foremost citizens, and a gentleman whose influence was, and Is, a power in the land, a prominent politician and philanthropist employing some three thousand work- people in his large factories in various parts of the United States. SPECIAL JAMES KING, THE NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL. AND LEADFR OF THE GANG OF KIDNAPPERS WHO STOLE EDDIE BRATHWAITE—HE WROTE THIS ACCOUNT OF THE KIDNAPPING WHILE IN) PRISON FOR THE WIDK WORLD HERE SHOWN IN HIS CONVICT DkzSs, From a Photo. car. Previous to this there had been several daring cases of kidnapping in the States. The most prominent in recent years was that of Willie Cudahy, the son of a wealthy packer, who was stolen by a certain “ Pat” Crowe, and returned to his parents on payment by them of several thousands of dollars. Never before, however, had plans been so well laid, so cleverly carried out by master minds “4 in crime, as in this instance. ' The men most conspicuously concerned in the business were all known to the police as desperate characters, who would stop at nothing to | “pull off a job.” These men were “Jim” King, a notorious criminal and all-round thief, whose specialty was stealing the children of wealthy per- sons, and who had already served ten years’ imprison- ment for a_ like offence; “Buck” Williams, a card- sharper ; and ‘om Brandt, a bank burglar, who gained notoriety as the man who, with an accomplice, burgled a prominent New York bank some years ago, getting away with several hundred thousand dollars, most of which was later recovered. These three men took many months to for- mulate their plans, and every possible precaution was taken against misadventure. The | actual “nabbing” was re- * hearsed time and again, King himself, the master - mind, going so far as to take lessons in motor-driving, the plan being to carry the boy off in a motor- When the abductors AND 18 Copyright, 1906, by George Newnes, Limited, in the United States of America.

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THE KIDNAPPING OF were finally ap- prehenued King was offered large sums by several enterprising American news- papers for his version of the story. His coun- sel, however, ad- vised against this, believing it would prove de- trimental to the prisoners’ — inte- rests, as even after the menhad been captured it looked for a long time as though they would es- cape conviction, the boy, on whose testimony the prosecution mostly relied, being very reluc- tant to give evi- dence against them. Mr. Brathwaite him- self, in the joy of having recovered his son, was loath to force him to speak. Public opinion, however, proved too strong, and Eddie was forced to tell his story in court. How the daring plan suggested itself, how cleverly the scheme was carried out, and every detail of the remarkable occurrences which followed is told in the ensuing narrative by “Jim” King himself, the ringleader of the trio of kidnappers. ‘The publication of the narrative has been made possible by the kindness of an ex-State official, who used his powerful influence in procuring permission from the prison authori- ties to allow King to relate his story for the benefit of the readers of THE Wipe Wor.Lp Macazine. Here, then, told for the first time by the one man most qualified to set them down, are the full facts for which the American public and its newspapers clamoured in vain, but which were procured for us by Mr. Harold M. Vernon. WILLIAMS, KING'S ACCOMPLICE IN THE ABDUCTION. From a Photo. “ wucK " Brockville Penitentiary, Mass., U.S.A. When I was called out of the tin-shop by a EDDIE BRATHWAITE. 243 keeper and taken into the warden’s office I felt as though something was about to happen, for you never know when a report has been made against a man. The deputy-warden asked me if I wanted to tell about the Brathwaite case for a magazine, and that I could do as I liked about it. I said I would think it over, and went back to work. That night I said to myself, “It can’t do any harm. I am ‘in’ now, and they (the news- papers) said so many wrong things about me that I might as well tell the straight truth about it.” So I told the deputy I would write the story. I was accordingly excused from work and given writing material ; then I sat down to write the story. In September, 1904, I was in —— gambling house, in Buffalo, N.Y., and went “ broke” playing faro. I hadn't a penny left, and even my overcoat was in pawn. Leaving the place, I went over to a saloon where I knew I should meet some fellows who would lend me a dollar or so. I had a couple of glasses | if TT of beer there, | : ay then sat down to read a paper. I saw in the paper that a Boston millionaire had given his boy a motor-car, the smallest one ever made, and I wondered how it must feel to be rich. Then I thought, ‘ Well, if that manthinks so much of his boy, he might give up some coin to get him back, if a fellow could sneak him away for a few days.” The more I thought of it the more I felt that here wasachance to dig up some money. I went home, but couldn’t sleep; the thing kept coming back to me all night. Then I thought TOM” BRANDT, WHO CONDUCTED THE NEGOTIATIONS) FOR THE RANSOM OF From a) THE BOY. [Phato.

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244 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. of the last time I had tried the game and what it had cost me; but I was “ broke,” and made up my mind to takea long chance. I had some friends in Rochester, so I tramped there and looked them up. 1 only found one whom I could trust—Tom Brandt. I talked over my idea with him and we decided to go through with it. Now, we needed anuther man, one with some money, who would stick with us. Tom accordingly wrote a letter to one of the “boys” in St. Louis, and he liked the idea tight off, and said it was a good scheme. He came down to meet us, bringing seven hundred dollars in his pocket. We talked the whole thing over several times, and then “ Buck ” Williams— the man who came from St. Louis—bought us all some swell clothes and we went to Boston. The papers said we only came to Boston in a motor on the day we got the boy, but that is not correct ; we were in Boston from September zoth until November 6th, the day the thing came off, and we certainly looked things over so as to make no mistake. Mr. Brathwaite lives in the best street in Boston—Commonwealth Avenue—in a large house which stands in its own grounds. Well, we scouted around there for several days, but soon saw that there would be no chance at the house. Somebody was always with the boy when he came out, either a servant or some other lad, and we could never have got him away safely. We thought of twenty different schemes, but something always turned up to spoil them. At last one day “Buck” got desperate and was going to snatch him away from the footman who always took the boy to school, and it was all we could do to hold him back. ‘Then I got the right idea. I noticed that the same servant always took the boy to and from school, and in a flash I saw my way clear. We talked it over and it was decided that I should go to Eddie’s school one afternoon, about half an hour before the usual time tor going home, and call for him, saying that his sister was ill. We knew all about the family—how many servants they had, and everything. We got a good look at the servant; then I bought a yellow and black striped vest like servants wear, and a black coat and trousers ; I also shaved off my moustache. Tom Brandt said that if we had a motor-car we could get away quickly, so we decided to obtain one. In pursuance of this idea I went for ten days to a motor school and learned to run a car well enough to suit our purpose Then we mapped out a course and decided, should everything come off all right, we would take the boy west, to Chicago, leaving Tom Brandt in Boston to attend to the “business” end of the affair. The boy once in our hands, we would motor to Camden and catch the train there to New York, where we would take the boy’s clothes from him and dress him up as a girl. Then we would go on to Chicago to a place I knew there, where everything was quite safe. We rehearsed everything between ourselves several times, settled on the figure Mr. Brath- waite would have to pay, and when all the details were worked out properly we set to work. On November 6th “Buck” went to a place in Howard Street and hired a motor-car for the day. ‘The driver accompanied the car, but he was soon got rid of ; “Buck” sent him into a place for some things which it would take about ten minutes to find, and in the interval I came along, jumped into the car, and drove to Delonge Place, to young Brathwaite’s school. I was dressed up like a servant, as I have previously described. We stopped a little way off; then I walked into the school. We had followed the boy there once to see which room he was in, so I knew what I was doing. Knocking at the class-room door, I walked in and the teacher came to me. “Tf you please,” I said, “ Mr. Brathwaite wishes Master Edward to come home at once, as the young lady is ill.” The teacher was quite unsuspicious, asking if it was serious. “No; not very,” I replied, and then she called to the boy. He came forward at once, and the teacher told him he was wanted at home. He was a good-looking, well-made little fellow, and he looked up at me and asked, “ Why must I come home?” “ Miss Nellie is ill,” I answered, “and it is thought best you should come.” * “Who are you?” was his next question. This was a facer. If I said I was a new foot- man he might ask some awkward questions, so I quickly replied, “I am Dr. Williams's servant, sent for you.” This satisfied him, and he went into the dressing-room for his cap and coat. Then I walked behind him down the stairs, and so to the motor-car. He asked if that was the doctor’s car, if it could go fast, and how fast, and about a dozen other boyish questions. I jumped up in front, leaving “ Buck” behind with the boy. Now came the hardest part. “ Buck ” had to do his share, which was to con- vince the boy that. if he opened his mouth it would go hard with him. He told the youngster we meant him no harm—it was only a lark— but that he must keep quiet, or he would never see his mother and father again. The boy never turnéd.a feather, only asking

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THE KIDNAPPING OF EDDIE BRATHWAITE. 245 ““*WHO ARE YOU?’ WAS HIS NEXT QUESTION.” if his sister was really ill. He was told “No.” ‘Then he sat back and never spoke one word until we had made the forty-six miles between Boston and the place we went to, so as to throw the police off our track. “Where are we going?” the boy asked, quietly, when we got there. ‘I always have my tea at this time.” We quieted him with some excuse, bought our tickets, and took the train to New York. I knew there would be a great fuss made imme- diately the Brathwaite servant found out how things stood. So, after a hurried discussion, we decided to leave the train at Hartford, Conn., purchase some girl’s clothes, and change the youngster’s appearance right away. This we did. “Buck” went into a little store to get some things, and meanwhile I had a talk with Eddie. I told him we were going for a trip; that he would be all right as long as he kept quiet. He should have a nice time, I added, but at the first sign of playing us false some- thing awful would happen to him. He was a sensible lad, and only remarked: “ Well, I know my mother will be awfully frightened about me.” I had to tell him an untruth then, and said we would let his mother know. When “Buck” came back with the girl’s clothes Eddie began to cry; he wouldn't have them on, he said, and we had our work cut out to make him don them. ‘When the change was complete he made a fine-looking girl, only his hair was rather short. I felt a little nervous about taking the train again, as I knew the telegraph wires would soon be hot with messages, and detectives would be watching everywhere. We therefore walked out about two miles into the country and hired a vehicle to take us to Morley Junction, about nine miles farther east, where we could get on a canal-boat and travel fairly securely, because canal-boat people wouldn’t ask questions, and it was pretty certain they would hear nothing of the kidnapping until we had got clear away. Everything turned out all right, and we reached Pittsburg, Penn., on November gth, after travelling across country for forty-eight hours, day and night. By this time the poor boy was so tired that he kept-sleepingylike a log.

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246 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Next we went to Allegheny City—which is a few minutes only from Pittsburg, abridge separating the two cities—-and put up at Mother ——’s place, where we knew we were safe. After a sleep I went out for the newspapers. Jupiter! they were just a little excited. The whole front page of every paper was full of it, in big type. “ Millionaire’s Son Kidnapped ! Daring Robbers Steal a Boston Boy from School!” Then they went on to print a lot of stuff which was not a bit like what really happened. ‘They also said, “ Police Hot on the Scent. Sure to be Captured Within Twenty- Four Hours.” Well, I had heard that kind of talk before, and knew that when detectives are most at a loss they always “have a clue.” What interested me most was that the Press and Svar said, “ Mr Edgar Brathwaite offers five thousand dollars’ reward for the capture of the man or men, and the police offer a further thousand dollars.” This was just what we wanted, only it was not enough. If Mr. Brathwaite offered that amount for us, what was the boy worth? I did not fear for ourselves. Of course, the police had my description, but it was only about as good as such descriptions usually are; and, besides, course, did not leave the boy for a minute. It was too soon yet to communicate with our friend Brandt in Boston ; the boy’s parents were not anxious enough. Every day meant more money, always, of course, providing we were not caught. We remained in Allegheny City five days, keeping the boy indoors. He was wonderfully good ; his only trouble was about his mother, and he took my fancy so that I wrote to Brandt to send a letter to Mrs. Brathwaite saying the boy was well and all right. This letter came out in the papers and caused the police to believe Eddie was still in Boston somewhere. On Sunday night I borrowed some more money from old Mother —— and bought a good horse and buggy. You might think it would have been better for us to remain where we were, but the reward had gone up to ten thousand dollars and we did not know how much longer the old woman could stand the temptation, although she knew she would be “in” if we got what we were after. We did not let her know we were going, but said we wanted to take the boy out for a little air. We walked him several miles out, then “ Buck ” went back for the horse, after which we drove in “(WE WALKFD HIM SEVERAL MILES OUT, THEN ‘BUCK WENT BACK FOK THE HORSE.” there are probably about five million “ smooth- faced men, about five foot eleven, with dark hair and eyes,” wandering around the United States. I took the papers home to “ Buck,” who, of another direction. We had-plenty of food with us, and whenever we came to a town we covered the lad up. Meanwhile I wrote to Brandt to throw out a “feeler,” which he did. He wrote to Mr. Brathwaite asking for fifty thousand

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THE KIDNAPPING OF EDDIE BRATHWAITE. 247 dollars. Mr. Brathwaite was to answer by certain words in a newspaper saying if he would pay it. The answer that was put in the paper was, “X. Y. Z.—Where can I see you? Have no fear.” Brandt, however, was very wary and did not answer in just the way desired ; more- over, the police saw the paragraph in the paper, of course, and watched Mr. Brathwaite’s house day and night, so that he could not communicate with anyone without their knowing it. Then Brandt wrote again, posting his letters always from different places. ‘This time he said that fifty thousand dollars was the only answer that was wanted ; that he would read a certain paper every day, and when Mr. Brathwaite would pay the money Eddie would be returned, but it must be within two weeks. Meanwhile, he said, the reward offered for the kidnappers must be withdrawn or the boy would suffer for it. It was necessary to frighten him, for every amateur detective in the States was hustling round after the reward, and every boy in the streets was being stopped and stared at. “ Buck,” the boy, and I reached Chicago tired, dirty, and worn out, but we were wise enough not to go into the city. It was a bitter cold day, and we had the boy wrapped up ina buffalo rug in the bottom of the buggy. He was all right, and as happy as if he was out on a picnic. “Buck” told him stories, and he would laugh like anything. I think “ Buck” had a youngster somewhere himself; he was very kind to Eddie, and I don’t think the boy would have said a word against us even if we had given him the chance. Meanwhile we were having lots of fun. Brandt was living at an hotel in Boston and dressed like a gentleman ; no one for a moment connected him with the sensational case which was filling the papers. The newspapers fairly went mad over it ; they brought out ‘special editions” every day with imaginary clues, and everybody was giving advice and telling the police what to do. Ere long Brandt was told to play one of our “good cards.” He went to Hartford, Connec- ticut, and wrote Mr. Brathwaite a letter saying that, unless he heard from him through the newspaper at once, he could not answer for the boy’s treatment, as those who had him were getting angry about not receiving any money. Mrs. Brathwaite could not stand the suspense any longer, and on her own account she offered twenty thousand dollars for the return of her son. Mr. Brathwaite then wrote to the papers to say that “he would pay the ransom asked, only it was a matter of principle, and might lead to other boys being stolen.” A few days after, the following note was put in the paper: “ X. Y. Z.—Will give twenty-five thousand dollars. Send particulars, time, place, etc.” Now, Brandt was no fool and took no chances, for it was possible that the police had inserted the notice. He therefore wrote, “Should you attempt to ‘cross’ me in this matter it will avail you nothing, as the boy would still be in the hands of my friends, and it would go hard with him if any harm came to me. I am not to be trifled with, and if I am arrested while acting as a friend to both parties, revenge will be taken on the boy. If you will come to Hartford, bringing fifty thousand dollars with you in hundred-dollar bills (not cheque), and leave the money at ten o’clock at the Northern Cemetery gate in a brown-paper parcel, the boy shall be returned to his home. If any trick is attempted, Eddie will suffer through you.” The next day the notice in the paper said, “X. Y. Z.—How do I know you are ina position to return? You may be arf impostor.” Now when we bought the girls’ clothes for Eddie we did his own garments up in a package and left them at the Cole Express Company’s office to be called for. Brandt got them, and after reading the last notice sent them to Mr. Brathwaite. Promptly the police went to the trouble of trying to find the boy whom Brandt had paid to deliver the things at the Brathwaites’ house. They found him, but all he could say was that “a man” had given him ten cents to run the errand, but he could not give a description of him. The Brathwaites received Eddie’s clothes, and Mr. Brathwaite decided to pay the reward. It was now about three weeks since we had taken the boy, and our money was nearly all gone. “Buck” and I were living in South Chicago with a friend who was ill, and, luckily, could not read. He was a German who had done a little work for us in another line once before. Eddie was now beginning to get very home- sick, and the German’s wife kept trying to find out what was the matter with “der liddle girl.” We stopped her, however, by saying the “little girl” (we called the boy Edith, “ Buck’s” daughter) was sad because “her” mother had just died. Apart from crying for his mother, the boy behaved like a_ brick. Sometimes he would act like a little girl to make us laugh, and we would tell him stories then he would promise us rides in his motor-car when we took him home. We gave him the best food money could buy, because we knew he was used to the best, and when we hadn’t enough cash he never grumbled at all, but took what we gave him. I got him to write a letter

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248 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. to his mother, and made believe to send it to her, but did not, because Brandt was attending to the business part’of our scheme, and I did not wish to interfere with him in any way. 1 forwarded Brandt the letter, but never learnt what he did with it. After Brandt had sent Eddie’s clothes home he read the following notice in the paper: “X. Y. Z.—Will fulfil terms ; no tear of molesta- tion.” Brandt at once wrote to a friend in Norwich, a fellow whom he had helped out of trouble once, and so knew he could trust. This man came on to Boston and received certain instructions from ‘Tom Brandt. He did not know the whole truth of the matter—only that he was to go to a certain place, find there a package, and Brandt would do the rest. Brandt, of course, took every possible precau- tion, and fixed things so that he would not be far away when the proper time came. The police, knowing that the strain on the Brath- waites was pretty strong, watched every move of the family and servants, determined that no ransom should be secretly paid if they could prevent it. ‘he papers in every city in the States were full of the thing, and we were trace.1 ta.a hundred different places by all kinds of detectives, amateur and professional. On the night when the coin was to be turned over, or, rather, on the afternoon of that day, Brandt's friend went to the town in which the money was to be paid. Brandt also started to go there. He walked down to the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railroad station and saw two well-known detectives slip into the train he had intended taking. Hardly had they got in when two more “sneaks” skulked into the station and got aboard the same train. Tom Brandt smiled to himself, and quietly walked over to the telegraph office, where he sent an innocent telegram to his friend in Hartford, saying, “ Jennie is ill; come home.” Just how many detectives there were around that cemetery on this December night I don’t know, but I do know that they were alone with the dead. After this fiasco Tom wrote to the Brathwaites and said there would be no more nonsense if he could help it, and that if Mr. Brathwaite wanted to see the boy alive again he must send the money by messenger to St. Louis, Mo. The messenger, he added, would in a certain way be told when to throw the money out of the train window. Mr. Brathwaite answered through the newspaper that he was not responsible for the actions of the police, and I really believe him. ‘They must have found out about the agreement in some other way. Of course, all this time Brandt and I were writing to each other and knew just how things stood with one another. When it was arranged that the messenger—the servant who had always taken Eddie to school—should go to St. Louis, Brandt told us he would take the same train. Meanwhile “ Buck” Williams was to go toa certain place some eight miles from East St. Louis, and Brandt would at the right time approach the man with the money and tell him to throw the package out. I received a telegram irom Brandt saying, “ Leave to-night. Hope good luck,” “Buck” having meanwhile left Chicago for the place he was to wait at. Now came the first set-back we had yet encountered, and through no fault of our own all our plans went to pieces, and we were knocked on the head just as we were about to get the money for which we had taken such desperate chances. “Buck” Williams left the house on Wednesday morning at seven o’clock and boarded a tram-car on his way to the station. He alighted at the Grand Union Depot, and was walking toward the station entrance when a hand was placed on his shoulder. “ Halloa, Buck!” said a voice, and, looking round, “ Buck” found himself face to face with Jack Collins, a noted detective ! “ Been looking for you about a week, Buck,” said Collins. ‘“ You'd better come along quiet.” The detective beckoned to a policeman in uniform, and Williams was taken to head- quarters. Arrived there, the desk-sergeant said, “Well, Williams, the girl died last night, and you stand charged with murder.” “ Buck ” did not know what they were talking about, but believed them to be “ feeling” him with a view to discovering something about the boy hidden away in South Chicago. “Pye no idea what you mean, or why I’ve been arrested,” he said. Then the warrant was read to him, charging him —to his intense amaze- ment—with the murder of a young woman, whose name was given! Now it happened that Buck was a former friend of this girl, who had been found with her throat cut in a room in Water Street, Chicago. A note discovered on a table read, “1 forgive you, Buck.” No weapon was found, however, with which the wound could have been made. The poor girl lingered for some weeks; then died in the prison hospital. The police, think- ing from the note that “Buck” Williams had wounded the girl, had been looking for him. As a matter of fact, however, the crime had been committed on the very day Williams and I took young Brathwaite from school in Boston. Here was a nice fix. “ Buck” had to prove his innocence, but the only way he could do so was by giving our job away and so proving an alibi.

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THE KIDNAPPING OF EDDIE BRATHWAITE. 249 — 2S he Of course, I knew nothing of all this, or I should have bolted with the boy at once, for up to now not one breath of suspicion had connected me with the affair. Meanwhile, Brandt, knowing nothing of the trouble, had taken the train and was coming on toward St. Louis, expecting, of course, that “Buck” would be at the appointed place. He had recognised Mr. Brathwaite’s messenger— the newspapers said he was in company with him all the journey ; this was not true—and felt sure everything was coming off all right. The police took poor “ Buck” into the “dark room” and put him through the “ third degree,” a method of extorting information used by the American police. In self-protection “ Buck” had to “split” on us. Needless to say, the excitement was great, but the police kept every- thing quiet while they took their next steps. Detectives Collins, Burt, Hennessy, and Keller promptly took the train for East St. Louis, while three others, O’Brien, Numacher, and Leslie, came to South Chicago and watched Vol, xvii.—82. Pere VIELIAMS. SIOPAC:. BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ABOUT A WEEK, BUCK,’ SAID COLLINS.” my house, all unknown to me. The men who went to East St. Louis divided forces, two of them going to the place where “ Buck ” should have gone, the other two changing trains and meeting the one by which Brandt and the man with our fifty thousand dollars were travelling. I forgot to mention before that with Brandt was also the man he had sent to get the money at the cemetery. At the proper moment Brandt stepped up to the man with the money. “ When the whistle blows for the East St. Louis bridge,” he whispered, “that’s the time!” The messenger turned white and shook like a leaf. ‘ Y-yes, sir,” he stammered. “All right, sir.” Then the catastrophe happened. Two men jumped on Brandt from behind and threw him into a seat. The handcuffs were quickly snapped on him ; then they told the messenger to sit still, as they were detectives. This hap- pened in the first coach or smoking - car, in which there were only three other passengers. Suddenly there was a loud; report, and one of

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250 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the officers dropped. Bang ! went a second shot, and the other detective grasped spasmodically at his arm, through which a bullet had gone. Brandt’s comrade had not deserted him! The whistle blew “ Put on brakes” for the bridge, and in no time Brandt’s friend—whose name I need not mention, for various reasc :s—jerked Brandt to his feet. Making a rush, they reached the rear platform and jumped off. The wounded detective, seeing his prisoner escaping, grabbed the bell-cord and pulled for all he was worth, while the other passengers sat paralyzed with astonishment. When the train stopped it only took a minute to explain matters, and soon fifty people were running up the track in search of the fugitives. Poor Brandt was badly hampered by being handcuffed, but luckily they both landed on their feet and set off at their best pace across country. Some of those in pursuit got pretty close, but Brandt, pinioned as he was, managed to pull out his pistol and let drive at them. The other man also took a shot at the nearest one —who happened to be the brakeman of the train—and down he went. Even now the pair might have made their escape had it not been for some young men who happened to be repairing a fence just at this spot. Hear- where the wounded men were looked after. Mr. Brathwaite’s servant-messenger told his story, and the Eastern police were at once com- municated with. They in turn telegraphed to Chicago, and the detectives watching me got busy. There came a knock at the door, which I myself answered, feeling quite safe, as there had been nothing in the papers to make me think they even knew where we were. Before I could say a word two revolvers were shoved into my face and a third man went by me into the house. In another moment he had seen Eddie and called him by name! I tried to make a fight for it, as the hospital authorities can tell you ; but I got one rap too many on the head from the butt of a gun and went down uncon- scious. When I came to my senses I was behind the bars. All of us were taken back east, where the police did their best to “pump” us. We were kept away from each other, and every day they would come to me and say, “Well, Brandt has told us all about you.” Then they would go to Brandt and tell him the same, but we knew the dodge and didn’t say anything. We felt pretty sore, of course, that ‘ Buck” Williams had given us away, but “ONE OF THEM PROMPTLY THREW A LONG FENCE-RAIL AT RANDT.” ing the shots and shouting, they looked up and guessed that something was wrong. One of them promptly threw a long fence-rail at Brandt, which caught him on the knees, bring- ing him down. Several others seized hold of Brandt's friend, and in a minute it was all over. ‘The two were taken back to East St. Louis, still we knew he would have had to stand his trial for murder if he had not squared himself. Eddie was brought back home, and when Mr. Brathwaite came to the cells to have a look at us we could see that the old gentleman had suffered very much. Mrs. Brathwaite was ill for a long time over it. I was sorry for this, but

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THE KIDNAPPING OF EDDIE BRATHWAITE. 251 it was all part of the scheme and it meant much money to us, so we had to harden ourselves. Eddie came to see us and laughed very much ; he brought us some grub, and said he was a “ boy” again. After a time we were brought to trial, but they could not go very far, as the only evi- dence they had was that of the teacher who saw me at the school. The fact that we had the boy in our custody was not enough to convict me as anything but an accomplice, and the teacher could not swear positively that I was the man she had seen, as my moustache had grown again. Eddie — good boy! —tried to get Mr. Brathwaite not to pro- secute, but it was no good. The citizens made a great fuss, and so, finally, Eddie iden- tified us, and we were brought to trial. He spoke as if we had been great friends, and made everyone in court laugh at what he said. My lawyer got him to say he was well treated and had had plenty of food. We ourselves said nothing, but pleaded “Guilty” and threw ourselves on the mercy of the Court. As soon as the judge began speaking, however, I knew it was all up with us, because he spoke of the mental torture Mrs. Brathwaite had gone through and also of my previous conviction for the same offence. “Twenty years” was the sentence, and I’ll have to do it, too—every day of it. Brandt was sentenced to eight years and “ Buck” Williams got the same. The other man—Brandt’s friend —got out on bail and bolted ; at least, I haven’t heard anything about his being recaptured. Everything else, I think, is known, but I have described here exactly the way the whole thing came off. (Signed) James Kino. Brockville Penitentiary, Mass., U.S.A. “ME SAID HE WAS A ‘BOY’ AGAIN.” Officer J. C. Col- lins, who arrested “Buck” Williams in the belief that he had committed a murder, and so was accident- ally instrumental in effecting the capture of the three kidnap- pers, spoke of the matter as fol- lows :— “It was purely by a lucky accident that we took Williams in the belief that he had killed his former sweetheart ; otherwise the men might never have been appre- hended—at teast, not until they had secured the money and, per- haps, spent it. “There is no ques- tion about the detec- tive departments of all our big cities hav- ing been at sea in the matter. We, to tell the truth, sus- pected an entirely different gang, and at the very moment ‘Jim’ King’s gang was taken we were watching certain people as far west as Denver, Colorado. So far as the ransom was concerned, Mr. Brathwaite’s servant had the cash with him,,and was told to carry out his instructions to the letter, and but for my accidental meeting with Williams the kidnappers would certainly have got the money that very day. : “Yes, the boy was well treated ; but for that fact King would have been sentenced for life, as it was his second offence. I did not think I was entitled to any reward as things happened, but Mr. Brathwaite insisted on treating me most liberally, as also the other officers who figured in the case.” Little Eddie Brathwaite still goes to the same school, where, of course, he is a great hero in the eyes of his class-mates. It is unlikely, however, that any more strange messengers will call for pupils at that school, unless they have the most convincing credentials.

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A Village of Basket-Makers. By S. S. SWITHAINE. A description of the quaint old village of Mawdesley, in the heart of industrial Lancashire, the inhabitants of which live by the picturesque industry of basket-making. Every operation of the business is carried on in and around the hamlet, from the cutting of the osiers to the dispatching of the finished goods to all parts of the world. From photographs by Harry Parkes. T= ASKET- MAKING is one of the f QW oldest handicrafts in the world ; the w receptacle of woven willows or inter- laced rushes goes right back to the beginning of things. Close upon seven hundred years ago there were people in England who, in the quaint phrase of Chaucer, “did make basketis and lyve thereby.” It is a far call from Chaucer's age to our own times, but basket-making has survived without many changes since those far-off days, and there are still people who “make basketis and lyve thereby.” Mawdesley, in Lancashire, is a village of basket-makers, and at Mawdesley this ancient handicraft may be seen in all its stages — from the rough osier-work of the hamper or the fruit- basket to the dainty coloured toy-basket of the child or the fancy flower-stand of the drawing-room. There is real artistry in willow- work, as the visitor to Mawdesley soon learns. In the picturesque, straw-thatched cottages by the wayside, some of them hidden in early summer amid _fruit- tree blossoms, the basket-makers ply their magic craft, taking the straightened osier and work- ing it into wonderful shapes, weaving things of beauty that are sent out over all the country and into the great cities, to be, if not joys for ever, at any rate serviceable pleasures for a very lengthened period. ‘The life of a good basket is almost as long as that of its maker, and when we consider that one man in a single lifetime may make something like a hundred thousand baskets, the results of his labours may well be far-reaching, so that tere is reason in the villagers’ proud boast that the baskets of Mawdesley are to be found all over the world. Mawdesley is a quaint old village, though it lies in the heart of industrial Lancashire. It is within some seven miles of Wigan, the town of coal-mines and factories, yet the visitor standing in the one main street of this basket-making village would hever dream that he was within walking distance of the buzzing factory loom or the smoke-vomit of the colliery chimney. ‘The village is set, like a hive of Nature’s simple industry, in the good green country that lies between the inland cities and the sea coast. On the one hand the coal-black miners hew the black diamonds from the bowels of the earth ; on the other the sailors go down to the sea in ships; while overhead, as the basket-maker plies his aft, the-notes of the wild goose or the heron winging its unwieldy flight may be heard. “Make me a willow cabin,” demands one of Shakespeare’s characters in “ Twelfth Night.” The request sounds unreasonable enough to ordinary folk, but the willow-weavers of Mawdesley can make you anything from a willow cabin to a doll’s cradle, a family travel- ling-hamper to a lady’s drawing-room work- basket, a lounge-chair to a paper-rack or an editor’s waste-paper basket. There is no monotony in basket-making to-day as it is seen at Mawdesley village. ‘I'he work is most varied. From the primitive plaiting of the osier on the river-bank it has developed into one of the most skilled and artistic handicrafts of the age. It is wonderful, when one comes to think about it, how almost every new invention affects the work of the skilled basket-maker. Take the revolution in methods of locomotion, for instance. Lady Montagu tells that some two hundred years ago she and her companions ascended Mont Cenis, “carried in little baskets of twisted osiers fixed upon poles on men’s st.oulders.” The Sedan chair has gone, and the baskets that were once fitted on poles carried by men are things of the past. The latest vehicle of transport, however—the motor- car —has introduced new work in willow- plaiting in the shape of sundry accessories. ‘The osier shield and the basket-hilted sword are quite out of date to-day, but new conditions of life bring new conditions of work to the basket-maker. For instance, the coming of the gramophone necessitated an entirely new pattern of willow-work in the shape of a cover into which the trumpet of the instrument is fitted for protection. When the leathern bottle went out of date and the earthenware bottle, so liable to breakage, took its place, the basket-maker was called upon to weave the bottle-basket into which the vessel was put for safety of carriage.

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A VILLAGE OF BASKET-MAKERS. 253 Similarly, although he is no longer called upon to supply the wonderful headgear of wicker- work which women wore once upon a time, the ladies call upon his craft nowadays for wicker baby-carriages, osicr-plaited cradles, and count- less dainty knick-knacks for the adornment of the home. The visitor to the Mawdesley of to-day sees all around him acres and acres of growing willows ; the village is hemmed in .with fields of springing osiers, and there would appear to be something in the soil that conduces to the successful growth of willows hereabouts. The osiers, which are generally cut in De- cember, shoot up until they are higher than the tallest man, and at the time of cutting they pres-nt the appearance of a perfect forest of lusty twigs. The longer are cut separately with a special knife down to the root of the willow, and next year the same stock shoots forth its twigs STEAMING THE BUNDLES OF WILLOW “ WITHES” TO MAKE THEM PLIABLE, HAKVESTING THE FOREST OF WILLOWS WIIICH WILL LATER ON BE USED FOR BASKET-WORK, Photo, again. ‘The lands about Mawdesley grow crops of willows year after year with unfailing regu- larity, and a child may grow up and follow his father in his trade, weaving twigs cut from the same parent willow stock. After the willow “withes” are cut they are laid on the ground and sorted into sets, according to size and quality, and later on are stocked for a month or two to season. By the beginning of = From a Photo.

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254 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. eight feet in length, is dexterously cloven down the core. The sides come off like tibands, the flat edge being used for the inner and the round edge for the outer sur- face in weaving. The twigs are always kept damp while being worked, so that they can be bentand curved and twisted without any fear of breaking. ‘To watch an expert basket-maker at work weaving the willows into all sorts -of ar- tistic shapes is to know something of what trained fingers are capable of. The upstanding willows 4 From a) SPLITTING THE OSIERS INTO RIBANDS FOR FINE WORK. (Photo. the spring girls may be seen busily engaged stripping the husks from the osiers, and the willow-wands shine with added glory as the ribands of peel are deftly sliced off in long lengths. At this time, too, the peculiar flavour of steaming willows fills the air, for the osiers are steeped in a long cauldron and steamed before undergoing the various processes which will convert them from twigs to woven willow-work. This steaming renders them most pliable to the touch and easy to plait. After undergoing the steaming the willows are put out into the bare fields, where a few months prior they grew, so that they may be what is called “bleached.” They are whitish-looking things after being steamed and peeled, and this “bleaching” in the open fields gives them colour. After a few weeks of exposure to wind and weather they are brought under cover and stored ready for use- The willows are carefully sorted for the various grades of work. Tor the rougher kinds of basket-making, hampers and strong baskets, the thick round willow is used, but for the fine work the osiers are split into three or four willow ribands. The willow- weaver takes his horn cleaver, a small instru- ment no larger than his thumb, and applies its dividing edge to the centre of the osier at its thickest end, and while the onlooker N A WICKER-WORK CHAIR IN THE MAKING. counts three the single osier, some seven or From(a Photo,

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A VILLAGE From aj TYPICAL BASKET-MAKERS AT WORK, seem to fairly dance in the air as they yield to every movement of the hand. ‘The eye fails to follow the fingers, so quickly do they dart about, and twig by twig, line upon line, the wicker- work article is built up to perfection. ‘The framework is first made of the stouter osiers and bands of the split ash tree, and around this are woven the finer willows that clothe the skeleton with beauty. In the case of a basket the bottom is first made, and through the centre of this a prong is driven fastening it to a block, so that as the workman proceeds with his task he may turn the basket round with every finger movement, sit- ting still himself the while. As the willow-weaver works the damped _usiers lie within reach of his hand in bundles that have been sorted to suit the work in hand, while under foot is a matting of broken and bent twigs that reminds the on- looker of a rush- bearing festival. Many of the rough kinds of willow work re- From a) SPLITTING ASH-STRIPS FOR STRENGTHENING ROUGH WORK} OF BASKET-MAKERS. 255 quire flat bands of pliable wood for the stronger parts of the framework, and these bands are generally obtained from the ash tree, the wood of which is boiled and then split into thin laths, These are cut to the size and shape re- quired, and in the case of large country marketing- baskets they are made smooth and polished, and fitted in a bend over the top for handles through which the arm may be thrust. Such baskets are more for use than orna- ment, being serviceable for farmers and tradesmen, sand especially for the housewife who goes long distances to town for the weekly supply of family groceries. The ashen laths, after undergoing the process of steaming, will bend as required without cracking or breaking, being as pliable as the twisted twigs. One of the accompanying illustrations shows willow-work in all its variety. In the outhouse [ Photo. that has been built for the purpose of storage may be seen the gathered osiers tied into bundles, and all around are perfected specimens and examples of the handicraft and artistry of the willow-weaver. In the background are some scores of hampers for farming use and market purposes, and in the foreground may be seen (Photo,

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256 THIS PICTURE SHOWS AT A GLANCE THE gramophone covers of willow-work. all about are types of finished work in profusion —wicker chairs, laundry hampers, basket cradles, prize bird training-baskets, waste-paper baskets, linen baskets, and many other examples of the handicraft. All these things, in every pattern of plaited willow- work that the requirements of modern life and the in- ventions of science have called for, are made by the natives of this basket- making village of Mawdes- ley. Whole families, dwell- ing in patriarchal style under their thatched roofs, are weaving articles to send all over the world. The youngsters sort the osiers into their various classes, the father and the mother weave and net the ribands of willow, while the grown- up children attend to various other operations. The younger members of the family, too, are fre- quently put to the rougher THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a Photo, Scattered OFF TO MARKET TO SEL. From a Photo. MANY DIFFERENT ARTICLES MADE 1 L HIS WORK. THE BASKET-WORKERS' VILLAGE. and less artistic sorts of work, such as plaging the bottoms and lids for the baskets. When the baskets are finished they are dyed with the colours desired and then hung on branches outside to dry and to become sea- soned. It is no uncommon sight in this quaint village to see an old apple tree, bending beneath its burden of fruit, bearing another crop in the shape of dozens of baskets ready for the market, tied to its branches with strings. Many an invalid hus- band or mother is main- tained in comfort by a willing wife or daughter whose hands are skilled in wicker-weaving. Where a man is his own master—as is usually the case—he may work away at home until his cottage is filled with the products of his labour ; then he has to go to market, carrying upon his ‘back samples of his handicraft wherewith to

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tempt the shopkeepers of the town. ‘There are in the village, how- ever, some few master basket-makers who have both men and women employés working regu- larly on their premises. Most of the work is done in the open when the weather permits. These men are known in. the village as “little gaffers,” and besides em- ploying workers on their premises have also a system whereby villagers so inclined may work at their own homes, being supplied with wil- lows and paid a récog- nised rate for the work done. It is no uncom- mon thing to see a woman carryinga bundle of osiers home under her shawl, and returning a few days later with a bevy of baskets strapped about her figure. The “little gaffer” for whom she works pays her ac- cording to what she has done, and she returns home again with the money and another bundle ~ of twigs wherewith to continue her labours. A VILLAGE OF BASKET- MAKERS. A FEMALR WORKER TAKING HOME A BUNDLE UF OSIERS TO BE From a) TURNED INTO HASKETS. (Photo. * distant 257 When the master basket- maker has got sufficient stock, he puts his horse in the cart, loads up the vehicle with a variety of finished witlow-work, and gets ready for mar- ket. Orders come in, too, by post from all parts, and these more customers are supplied by rail and water carriage. And thus the work of the Mawdesley willow- weavers, as they are fond of pointing out, finds its way all over the world. It is a picturesque busi- ness, and, unlike so many other village in- dustries, seems in a flourishing condition, though the pessimists say it is no longer what it was in the old days. There are, perhaps, three hundred men and women all told in the neighbour- hood who earn their liv- ing by basket-making, and the prices paid them by the shopkeepers are about half the retail sell- ing price, which is hardly more than half what it was when the industry was at its best. THE ‘RAW MATERIAL” AND THE TOOLS USED IN THE BASKET-MAKING INDUSTRY, From a Photo, Vol. xvii.—33,

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My Two Days’ Holiday. By P. V. ALPIseR, OF THE BuREAU OF Posts, Manita, P.1. In the first instalment of this absorbing narrative Mr. Alpiser related how he was captured by a Filipino guerrilla, whom he recognised as ‘“‘General" San Miguel, a veritable fiend in human form. By this ruffian and his band he was conveyed to their hiding- place in the crater of an extinct volcano, Here a girl informed him that he was destined to be cruelly put to death; then, in an undertone, she told him that she would help him to escape. Me) RESENTLY I rose to my feet fora | little promenade, but, apart from the difficulty I found in walking on account of my bruises, both of my " guards started up and, flourishing their rifles in a menacing manner, motioned me to be seated. There was no alternative, and I obeyed. There was apparently nothing to do but await developments ; I could not see the least chance of escaping unaided. Very soon, however, a diver- sion occurred which came near putting an end once for all to my troubles. I heard a great shouting at the extreme opposite end of the pit, where the small break in the wall seemed to be. Cries of welcome resounded, and the name of ‘Felizardo” was re- peated on all hands. I trembled anew. Was this forsaken hole also the home of that other viper, that worse ruffian even than San Miguel, the heartless scoundrel Feli- zardo? What would be my fate if such were really the case? Could it be that this extinct crater was the home of the worst bands of bri- gands and murderers in the islands, and that the fact was unknown to the Government? I had my answer before me. One thing the incident proved — there must be an exit at the other end of the pit, and the idea fixed itself in my mind that if I escaped at all it must be by that end of the crater. The shouting party came towards me, and I could now see that they brought prisoners with them. As they approached nearer I saw that VHE MESTIZO GIRL WHO BEFRIENDED THE AUTHOR AND OFFERED TO HELP HIM TO ESCAPE. From a Photo. one of these captives was a rather handsome mestizo woman of perhaps forty years of age. I shall never forget her. Her long black hair hung about her face in tangled masses, her eyes were wild and despairing. One hand was clutched by a small child about four years old, while dragging along after the woman was another child of perhaps seven years. The poor woman pulled herself wearily forward, and as she came still nearer and the crowd fell back I got a complete view of her, and my heart ached. She glanced at me and a momentary gleam of hopefulness appeared in her eyes, which quickly died away in fright when a brutal, dirty, and savage Filipino, with some air of authority, strode toward her and said, mockingly, in bad Spanish :— “Ah, my dear sefora ! Are you comfortable ? What do you suppose your dear husband is doing now? Does he suspect that the great and terrible Felizardo has captured his lovely wife ? What would he do if he should see me embracing you?” With the words he grasped the woman in his arms and drew her face towards him. I had been watching this scene in horror and rising anger, and forget- ting my position and my guards, who seemed momentarily asleep or otherwise absorbed, I crossed the intervening space with a bound, seized the villain by the neck, tore him from the fainting woman, and choked him until he grew black in the face and his tongue protruded from his mouth. Then my guards and, the idle yspectators recovered

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MY TWO DAYS’ from their surprise and separated us hastily. In the scuffle I received some very severe treatment. Felizardo-—who had sunk limply to the ground when released from my grasp—was mad with rage. He was bent on ending my career then and there, and would probably have done so if San Miguel had not arrived. — Striding through the crowd, knocking them tight and left, he ordered the people to go away and leave me alone, adding, as they sullenly obeyed, something about the Americano and the grand festa that night. As San Miguel came nearer Feli- zardo went to meet him and they seemed to have a hot argument for some minutes. I could see that San Miguel did not want ven- geance taken on me then, and at last, still talking vehemently, they both walked away. If my situation had been bad be- fore, what was it now? I found that I had been struck a number of times in the mélée and had several deep cuts in my arms and legs where 1 had been pricked by do/os. 1 was thankful, how- ever, that I had got out of the business so well, though the result of my eruption was not long in coming. Three /adrones approached and proceeded to bind my arms behind me and my ankles together. Then they left me to myself. My guards still remained, however. It was now at least six o’clock, and the high walls of the pit shut out the last rays of the setting sun and cast a gloomy shadow within. 1 lay there reflecting on my plight, changing painfully from one position to another in an effort to find a little comfort, for the cords of native hemp had been drawn cruelly tight and cut into my wrists and ankles. Suddenly I heard @ soft, low voice at my side. “(1 SEIZED THE VILLAIN BY THE NECK.” HOLIDAY. 259 “Senor,” it murmured, “I have brought you something to eat. You must eat, for you will need all your strength to-night. See! I will have your cords cut so that you can sit up.” It was my white-faced friend, and she now called one of my guards, Who was standing _respect- fully aside, and made him cut the thongs with his éolo and then prop me up so that I could eat. My feet were left tied. The girl stood looking down at me, while the guard withdrew a few paces and turned his back. The food con- sisted of rice and fish, the usual Fili- pino diet. The former I ate greedily, for it was well prepared and I was very hungry. Then I pointed to the unfortunate captive woman and her children, the latter plain-* tively asking their heart-broken mother when “papa” would : come to take them home. The mestizo understood my un- spoken question. The captives, she said, were the wife and children of one of the ex- governors of Cavite Province, who had been unusually active in hunting down the /adrones and had given the rascal Felizardo in particular some hard knocks, thus incurring his enmity. The ruffian had waited for months to get his revenge, finally securing it in the capture of the governor’s wife and children. The lady’s fate had been and would be a hard one, the mestizo said, with a sigh. She had been in the hands of Felizardo but two days and had been terribly treated, but the end was not yet, for the inhuman monster had sworn that when she left his hands it would be as a dead woman or as an idiot. “To-night,” the girl added, with a shudder, “San Miguel and Felizardo have prepared a big

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260 THE WIDE fiesta, and there will be terrible deeds. In addition to you, sefor, and the poor sefora and her children, Felizardo has captured several native constabulary soldiers, who will be horribly tortured, and you and the sehora will be brought in as the climax if you are still here.” I shivered. one. “Do not fear, sehor,” the girl continued. “Tf you do as I tell you we will escape to-night. But, senor,” she entreated, “ there is one thing I want you to promise me. I belong to Batangas, where my father, mother, and brother all live. I was walking one evening near the outskirts of the town with some girl fiends when San Miguel and his band captured us, and permitted all the others to return home but me, whom he brought here. I have pretended to be satisfied, and he trusts me implicitly, but I hate him, I detest him, I loathe him! I long to be once more with my relatives and friends. ‘They mourn for me, and I will return to them to-night, if I am not killed. Sefior, it is a dangerous thing we are going to try to do, and both of us may not live, but God will watch. Scior, if you escape and I do not, promise me that you will go to my people and tell them what you know of me.” She told me who her people were, and I promised readily. “Now listen further,” she said. “Soon the fes/a will begin. ‘There will be much dino, the wine that makes men crazy ; you will have your two guards as usual, who will not be given 4770, but I will attend tothem. In one hour I will return. Watch for me, sefior ; watch!” Then she was gone. My heart felt lighter, though I wondered what the girl’s plan was. I trembled at the memory of her words relative to the festa, and I was distracted with anxiety for the poor captive and her children, It was only too obvious that the mestizo girl considered any attempt at rescue for the unfortunate woman quite out of the ques- tion ; she was hampered by her children, and, moreover, had not strength enough to travel far. How slowly the time dragged along! It seemed several hours since the girl had left me, and I began to get very nervous. Suddenly I thought I heard a low whisper by one of my guards, and then a few minutes later by the other, but I could see nothing in the darkness, But the sentries did not return to replace the cords on my wrists. I was now startled by a bright blaze of light .coming from very near one of the crater walls, and down in the natural amphitheatre of which I have spoken I could see the dark figures of the /adrones moving to and fro in front of it, and, with a sinking heart, I realized that the festa was about to begin. The blaze steadily The prospect was an appalling ~ WORLD MAGAZINE. grew into a large bonfire, throwing a strong light for a hundred feet or more in a circle. I could plainly see San Miguel talking to the people ; near him stood Felizardo. The audience seemed to approve the words of their chief, for they burst into boisterous shouts and cries. ‘The /adrone community seemed to feel perfectly secure in this natural hiding-place, and doubtless the fesfa of to-night was but a repe- tition of what had occurred many times before in the same spot. The light from the fire did not reach to within two hundred feet of me, so that I lay in com- plete darkness. I could sce the figures of my guards on cither side of my mound, apparently seated with their rifles on their knees, and as silent and motionless as though dead. I wondered if I had really heard someone whispering, and if it bad been the mestizo girl making an effort to drug them. — Still she did not return. I grew more and more uneasy. I could see the gourds being passed round the fire and knew that much dino was being disposed of. ‘The /adrones got noisier, and I consequently grew more fearful. Suppose some half-drunken brute should take a notion to vary the programme by coming after me? Presently two or three of the shouting ruffians left the fire at a word of command from San Miguel and, to my horror, advanced towards me. I shook and cowered on my mound; my fears were about to be realized; my hour had come! Half frenzied, I strove to rise to my feet, only to sink back with a groan, for my feet were still tightly bound together. I lay quietly and watched with fascinated eyes the approach of the natives. But behold! suddenly the men stopped, and it dawned upon me that they had come for the poor woman, and not for me. ‘The brutes caught up the limp form of the sehora and started with her, the two little ones following, towards the fire, but turned into one of the huts and disappeared. I half expected to be fetched next, and that I should be moved nearer to the orgies and tortured with a sight of the preliminary horrors until my tutn came. Still the mestizo did not return. ‘The idea of escape had fastened itself upon my senses, but, strange to say, I had not hitherto thought of removing the thongs that bound my ankles. I now proceeded to do so, and, though it was no easy task even with both hands free, I finally succeeded. Finding myself entirely unbound, I attempted to move my feet, but the first movement brought the most excruciating pains, for I found that the circu- lation of the blood had almost ceased and my feet were like pieces of lead. I drew them toward me slowly and painfully, and chafed

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MY TWO DAYS’ them gently, cursing my stupidity for my tardy action. I could not have made use of my feet just then if my life had been-at stake. I peered through the night at my guards, but detected no sign of life about them; I felt sure that they must be drugged or dead. I was alarmed at the non-appearance of the girl, and was beginning to revolve a plan of escape in my mind when a light touch on the shoulder almost drew a cry from me. Before I could collect myself the soft voice I now knew so well said, “Sefior, the time is at hand! Here is a revolver, and a knife. Follow me quickly, but very quietly. If our HOLIDAY. 261 “Tt is well, my brave girl,” I said; “let us proceed.” My rescuer led the way carefully to the nearest wall of the pit, directly away from the fire, where the shadows were blackest. My head still ached and throbbed painfully, my feet and ankles were sore and swollen, and I could barely use them at first, but gradually they grew stronger. In a very little while, moving cautiously over the uneven ground, we reached the deep gloom of the wall, where I could hardly see the figure of the girl in front of me. We followed this wall around, and I thought the girl was looking escape is discovered—and one of the drunken dadrones may wander around here and learn of it any moment now—you must fight, sefior. If you see that we cannot get away keep two bullets in the gun, sefior, for the fate that awaits us, if caught, will be a thousand times worse than a quick death.” I was silent a moment, and the girl caught my hand and pressed it, saying, earnestly, “Promise you will do it, sehor! Promise!” A panorama of the evening’s events passed through my mind. I saw the sefiora and her children, the bonfire and the savages waiting for victims, the horrible fate of us both if we remained ; and my mind was made up. I pressed the girl’s hand in reply. HERE IS A REVOLVER, AND A KNIFE,” for the secret passage through which I had entered, but after traversing two-thirds of the circuit of the pit, and reaching a point consider- ably nearer the bonfire than the mound where I had been imprisoned, I found by contact that my guide had stopped. The girl leaned back, caught my shoulder, and whispered in my ear. “Sejfior,” she breathed, “here is the danger point! There is always a guard stationed here in a small house through which we must pass to reach the path out of the hole, and he will have no dino to make him drunk. I shall have to try the same drug that I used on your guards. It is the juice of a native plant which kills if given in large quantities, but in smalldoses merely pro-

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262 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. duces a quick and heavy sleep. I leave you here. If I am successful I will light a cigarette and you must come at once. If you do not see the light by the time you count one hundred very slowly, like the tick of a large clock, then you must creep quietly forward and strike boldly and surely with your knife. But in that event our escape will be difficult, for the path is hard to climb and you are not familiar with it. A misstep will send you to the bottom.” I merely pressed her arm to show I under- stood, for I realized how much depended upon her success. Then the brave girl vanished in the gloom. Oh, the anxiety of those few minutes— perhaps seconds—while straining my eyes to catch the gleam of light that would mean salvation! I counted slowly to myself, but to this day I cannot tell how many numbers had passed my lips before the little streak of flame, not more than thirty feet away, beckoned me to life and liberty. The suspense was broken and I hastened eagerly forward, to find myself against a little mpa hut. I was clutched and pulled forward at the same time by the hand of the girl. I peered around the house, hesitating, whereupon the girl said, quickly, “ He is there in the corner, sefor, asleep! ‘The drug works fast and well!” I thought of the wonderful drugs and medi- cinal plants of the Philippine Islands, the uses of which are still so little known, and could not but believe her. We passed at once through the house and, stooping as we went through a door, found ourselves on a step cut into the wall of the pit, which rose obliquely toward the sky. This was in reality the crack or rift that I had seen from my mound at the other end of the crater. “Now, sefior,” said the girl, impressively, “we must go very slowly, and you must be very careful, for these steps are narrow and run to the top around the side of the wall. A false step and you are lost, I will go first,” she went on, and you must keep one hand on the heel of my foot. Are you ready, sefor?” “Tam ready,” I replied. My guide started up the ascent silently and slowly ; I, following, kept one hand lightly on her heel, thus guiding myself. Gradually we neared the top. The ascent covered a distance of perhaps two hundred and fifty feet, a most perilous climb in the darkness. We had arrived within about twenty feet of the top without a mishap, due doubtless to the great care of my companion and the most wonderful good luck on my part, assisted perhaps by my fear of the consequences of a misstep, when loud and clear from below rose the groans and agonizing cries of human beings in suffering. I was so un- nerved that I should most certainly have fallen had not my companion, with remarkable in- tuition, at that instant pressed her heel sharply against my hand, bringing me to a realization of our own peril. We finished the climb, but when I found myself clear of the hole which had so nearly proved my tomb I dropped limp and weak on the ground. Our escape had not yet been discovered, and now, instead of hurrying to Los Baiios after the military, as had been my original intention, a foolish curiosity to learn what was occurring below led me to ask my now trembling com- panion if we could reach a point from which we might look on the fresfa below. I had recovered my nerve in some degree, and failed to appre- ciate at that moment the awful strain the girl had undergone. She responded courageously that she could take me to such a place of observation if I desired it. We, therefore, proceeded around the crater, without another word, to a spot directly over the bonfire where I could lie down on a projecting ledge at full length and clearly see the orgies. There on a thin ledge covered with thick, damp grass, two hundred feet above the miscreants in the pit, with the girl lying weakly sobbing at my side, I looked and saw things that have never since left my memory. I saw what I had read and heard, but had never believed—things that made my heart stand cold in my body like a piece of ice, and my blood alternately freeze and burn in my veins—things that fairly congealed my brain and stopped its thinking, until the fiends below had turned for the prize victim of the night—-the Americano dog, myself. I almost shouted with glee as I thought of their dis- * appointment. Suddenly a loud and angry cry from below told of something unusual, and I was brought to my senses by a sharp pull at my arm and the shrieking voice of the girl. “Sefor,” she cried, “come quick! They have discovered our escape !” Although I was at last aroused, I was dazed with horror by what I had seen. My companion caught me yet more roughly by the shoulder, shaking me frantically. ‘Senor! Quick!” she cried. ‘In a few minutes they will be up the path and we shall be lost, and then——” She got no farther. Now fully awake and alive to the peril and the awful fate awaiting us if caught, I was more eager than she, if possible, to be away. “Lead on, senorita!” I said, huskily. “ Lead the way to Los Bafios and the soldiers !” Silently we pressed on down the mountain side, through the high grass and the tangled vegetation. We heard the angry shouts of our pursuers far behind, buf kept steadily on, and

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MY TWO DAYS’ gradually, to our intense relief, the sounds of the chase died away behind us. Our way was a circuitous one, until at last we struck a little path leading to the main road in the valley and so to Los Banos. This little path, I might mention, was the track that ran to the falls I had started out to find, and whose roaring we plainly heard in the still night as we passed down to Los Banos and safety. Leaving my exhausted companion at the adjacent hospital, I at once sought out the commanding officer, and recounted to him my adventures of the day and night. old veteran in charge of the post caught the drift of my words in a few seconds, and quickly had a company of soldiers ready to take the road. He re- quested me to accompany them as a guide, which I gladly did, al- though terribly fatigued by the excitement and strain I had passed through. It was decided to take the same road I had tra- velled over to- wards Calamba, and attempt to find the secret passage in the mountain pass. The company of soldiers was divided, however, and only about twenty were taken by the colonel with us into the ravine, the others being sent in two parties around the mountain in opposite directions. It was now after one o’clock in the morning, and it was quite possible, even probable, that the /adrones had taken flight and would not be found. ‘The colonel thought, however, that the scent would be “warm,” and that there was a bare possibility that we might find part of the band still in the crater or in the secret passage or cavern. They would certainly have good reason to believe that I should not be able to find the entrance to the passage. When we had reached the pass and were about half-way through it I requested the colonel to have a torch lit. This I took, and, scouring the wall for about ten yards, was rewarded by finding the large rock with the curiously-twisted vine about it. I asked the colonel to get his men to give the vine a hard tug. This was done, and the rock came swing- . The grizzled © THE HOSPITAL AT LOS BANOS, WHERE THE UNFORTUNATE SENORA WAS TAKEN AFTER HEK RESCUE BY THE AMERICAN TROOPS. From a Photo. HOLIDAY. 263 ing outward at the end of the vine, which we found had been cleverly fastened around it by means of wire. Thus was revealed the opening of the secret passage ! I entered first, the colonel and his soldiers following. We travelled as I had done before, in total darkness, as it was not deemed advisable to carry a light. We passed through the cavern, which we found vacant, and again entered the narrower passage. At last we were stopped by a wall in front. I felt over what seemed to be a solid slab of stone, and then put my whole weight against it, when it swung slowly outward as though on hinges. I stepped into the crater, with the colonel and his soldiers pressing eagerly behind. Everything was dark and silent. The colonel, with his keen grasp of situations, at once divided his force into two parts, sending oné divi- sion with me around one side of the pit, while he took the other in the opposite direction. My party passed the mound where I had been a cap- tive, and thence marched on to the amphitheatre -of blood and horror. It was plain that an attempt had been made to put the fire out, for the embers were scattered around and were almost dead. At this moment a bright blaze from the opposite side of the crater proved that the colonel had concluded to take his chances with a possible hidden foe and find out just what the pit contained. We at once followed his example and were surprised to hear the cry of a child, followed by a moan as of an older person in pain, proceeding from the mzpa shack nearest the dying fire. I at once thought of the unfortunate senora we had left in the hands of the /adrones, and, snatching the torch from the soldier’s hand, I ran toward the house. I had not gone many steps before I fell over some- thing that felt like a human body, and, bringing my light near, found, as I expected, the mangled remains of one of the constabulario prisoners ; the other charred and mutilated body was found close by. I entered the house with a shudder, fearful of

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264 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. what I might find there. The two forlorn little children ran to meet me, seeming to realize that a friend had come at last, the oldest one saying, mournfully: ‘“ Mamma is there in the corner. I think she is sick ; she won’t speak to me when I talk to her.” I went to the still form in the corner of the hut, wrapped round with the native pafata (floor-mat), and at the same time told one of the soldiers to ask the doctor to come at once. The poor woman was to all appearances dead, but on placing my ear to her breast I could detect a slight flutter of the heart and a very faint breathing, which told me that she was still alive. The doctor came bustling in, and, after giving the patient some immediate attention, ordered her removal at once to the hospital at Los Bajos, saying that she was in a serious condition, but he could not tell just what the chance of life was then. 1 may say in conclusion, with refererfce to Senora T——, that under the excellent care she received at the hospital she rallied to such an extent that it was believed she would fully recover after all. Suddenly, however, the slender thread which had evidently been holding her reason in check gave way and she became a raving maniac, and so remains to-day. ‘Thus the terrible prophecy of the infamous Felizardo came true. An examination of the bodies of the con- stabularios exhibited the most horrible mutila- tions, and I shuddered to think of the fate that came so near to being mine. A thorough search of the pit revealed no /adrones. Even my drugged guards and the one at the path had disappeared — carried off by their companions, without a doubt—and we looked in vain for some other secret passage or hiding-place con- nected with the pit. Ascending the same narrow, dangerous path by which I had escaped we joined the other detachments, which, like ourselves, had found no /adrones. It was with no small pleasure that I heard the colonel give the order to return to Los Baiios, as I was now thoroughly exhausted. Arrived at the town I immediately sought the hotel and slept, though not very soundly, for certain fearful sights would float before my closed eyes and horrid shrieks ring in my tired ears. I took the boat for Manila the same day, and arrived there late in the afternoon. The next morning, Monday, I reported for duty at the office, as usual, and my friends and _ fellow - workers wondered why I looked so haggard and worn out and was so singularly silent about my “pleasure” trip; but I kept silence. One hinted slyly that he believed I must have been captured by San Miguel and had my toes toasted! Still I said nothing. If I told my story I knew that some would say that I was seeking notoriety, while others would not believe it without proofs; and I did not care to revive the matter in the least degrée. I felt sick at heart, and only wanted to forget what I had seen and gone through. I do not know what report the colonel made of the affair, but it was of course official, and I never even saw any mention made of it. I did, however, write up the whole adventure in shorthand, but never until now have I felt like transcribing my notes into readable English. Knowing that it will be of considerable interest to the readers of this narrative to learn what became of my brave rescuer, I will say that she fully recovered from the ordeal through which she had passed and returned in safety to her people in Batangas. I was afterwards instru- mental in securing her a position as a teacher in the municipal schools. “General” San Miguel remained at liberty and continued his criminal career for some time, frequently reported as captured and sometimes as dead, but always turning up again. Finally, however, he came to an ignominious fate at the hands of a native Secret Service man, who, having ascertained that San Miguel had come into Manila, ferreted him out, foll wed him back into the country to make sure of his identity, and then killed him. The brave secrefo hired a bull-cart and proudly-drove into Manila with the remains of the famous robber and murderer. This time, thank Heaven, the unspeakable fiend was really dead. “General” Felizardo remained at liberty until quite recently. He was tracked from place to place, imported bloodhounds being used in the man-hunt, and was at last sur- rounded in the small town of Cuenca, in Batangas Province. When he learned that he was practically caught he attempted to flee, but found himself on a precipice, with all escape cut off. He then did what he had sworn to do — jumped from the top of the cliff to an awful death three hundred feet below. There will now reign greater security throughout the provinces until another savage breaks loose, when the same thing will be enacted all over again. As for myself, I beg to be excused from any further excursions into the interior after waterfalls or any other natural beauties. The memory of my two days’ holiday will last me to my grave. THE END.

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Some Sporting Experiences. We published recently a batch of fishing stories—- queer adventures happening to anglers while following their favourite pastime. Below will be found a collection of even more exciting narratives, related this time by devotees of the gun in various parts of the world. A perusal of these stories proves how true it is that when a man goes out to “shoot something” he never knows what is going to happen to him or how soon the hunter may become the hunted. I.—BESET BY BABOONS. By SERGEANT PATTEN, LATE RoyAL ARMY MeEpiIcal. Corps. gi T was in the year 1899, and, if my a} memory serves me, in the month of February, that the experience I f am about to relate occurred to me. At the time of which I write I was attached to the West African Field Force, and we were stationed at Lokoja, Nigeria. Lokoja is situated north of the Bight of Benin, and for some miles round the camp the country consisted of thick bush, rocks, and stretches of yellow plume-grass, the latter from ten to fifteen feet high. Prior to our arrival, which occurred just before the Government acquired the district from the Royal Niger Company for a quarter of a million sterling, firearms were almost unknown, their importa- tion having been forbidden by the Niger Company. The result of this was that the whole country swarmed with big game, especi- ally higher up the river; and within half an hour’s walk from the camp animals of all kinds could be seen. Antelopes there were in abundance, and_ these were the favourite quarry of our sportsmen. All the animals were strange to the sound of firearms, and it was-our custom, supposing no game was in sight, to fire a rifle aimlessly, the report being almost certain to bring some inquisitive beast out to see what the noise was about, when another shot usually solved the mystery for him. I had often been warned by officers used to big game shooting against firing at monkeys or baboons, and it was through disregarding this caution that I met with an extremely nasty experience. While at Lokoja I often indulged in a day’s alligator-shooting, sometimes with a friend or two, sometimes alone. We invariably made for the river, whether after alligators or other game, for by keeping close to the water there was little Vol. xvit.—34, THE AUTHOR, SERGEANT PATTEN. from a Photo. likelihood of missing one’s way, while the animals were in the habit of coming down to . the river to drink. One day—profiting, as I thought, by past experience—I decided to set out alone, for with a companion there is always talking, and the sound of voices is apt to frighten the game. So, having furnished my haversack with a tin of sardines (the opener for which, of course, I forgot !), biscuits, and a Berkfeld pump filter, and filled my pockets with cartridges, I started out full of the Englishman’s traditional deter- mination to.“ kill something.” I followed the river for some distance, taking a few pot-shots at hippos and alligators on the way, and then —tiring, I suppose, of the water —I turned into the bush, bent upon stalking antelopes. I was not long kept waiting, and had soon hit several, but, owing to the cartridges being nickel-plated, I only brought the animals down for a minute, then had the pleasure of seeing them get up and run. It was, of course, ° useless to pursue them in the thick grass, so that by about four in the afternoon I found myself with an empty bag and feeling decidedly cross. While I was in this condition of vexation the sound of baboons barking fell on my ear. These animals, it should be explained, bark like a wolf, and, as a rule, are rather timid ; it is seldom that they attack a white man. Well, I determined to ignore the warnings I had received and shoot a baboon; I was not going back to Lokoja to be laughed at. Casting my eyes to the right, I saw a large troop of baboons on the rocks, so I made towards them. Evidently they did not altogether welcome my approach, for they commenced to retire, although quite leisurely. There were a great number of them, of all sizes, from big fellows nearly as tall

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266 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. as a man down to youngsters scarcely a foot high. Suddenly a fine big baboon jumped on a spur of rock, standing out against the sky-line in an attitude of defiance and challenge. Raising my carbine to my shoulder I let fly, and in an instant the animal was stretched on the ground. “RAISING MY CARBINE TO MY SHOULDER I LET FLY.” Then an extraordinary thing happened. When I brought down the baboon I fully expected to create wholesale panic in the ranks of his fellows and that they would beat a hasty retreat, but quite a different picture presented itself. The animal I knocked over must have been a creature of considerable importance in his own kingdom—a sergeant-major or foreman of the works—and for quite half a minute after he fell the whole colony stood stock-still, then rushed in a body to their fallen chum, chatter- ing and gesticulating madly, for all the world like human beings. When I perceived the evident distress of the creatures I must confess to feeling ashamed of my action, and therefore started to walk away from the painful scene as quickly as possible. But if the baboons were human-like in their distress, I soon had ample proof that they were also human-like in their desire for revenge. I had gone but a few paces when the whole troop commenced barking, squealing, and gesticu- lating, leaving their dead companion and advancing towards me, evidently in a deadly rage. There seemed to be a menacing air of resolution in their ad- vance, and with their hair standing up stiffly, their glistening eyes, and gleaming teeth, they made a terrifying spec- tacle. I soon realized that a crisis was at hand, and that the hunter was to be hunted, but deter- mined not to show the white feather and to cover my retreat as best I could. Keeping a vigilant eye towards the baboons, I walked smartly away to- wards a native village a mile or two distant. But the animals were not to be skaken off. The big ones kept cautiously at a distance, but the little ones gradually came to within a few yards of me, jumping about and snarling like small dogs. Presently I noticed to my dismay that they were gradually encircling me. Nearer and nearer they closed in on me, and matters began to look serious. I deemed it time to scare them, so, aiming in the air, I fired around. As I expected, the noise of the ex- plosion sent them scuttling off in all directions, but, although the diversion enabled me to gain about a hundred yards, my pursuers soon came back again, apparently with more confidence, for in a few minutes several of the smaller ones were within a yard or two, evidently only waiting for a leader ere openly attacking me. As they grew bolder some of them ventured in close enough to make a number of snapping bites at my puttee-covered legs, which caused me very sharp pain, and gave me an unpleasant reminder of the fate that might be in store for me. Baboons do not fix on when they bite, as a

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SOME SPORTING EXPERIENCES. 267 bulldog does, but snap and tear. They have two formidable canine teeth, or fangs, in both jaws, which meet like those of a rat, and the prospect of being torn limb from limb with those terrible tusks was not at all pleasant. I knew from what I had been told, however, that the big ones would not bite until they had got hold of me with their terrible hands, and I resolved at all costs to keep them away. Presently, as the snapping at my legs grew unendurable, I was forced to fire at some of my small pursuers, and knocked several of them over, which served to keep the others in check fora time. Before long, however, they seemed to grow accustomed to the reports of my carbine, and to expend less time in the contemplation of their fallen comrades, and so the pursuit became closer and hotter. At this critical juncture I hailed with delight the appearance of a sheltering stretch of tall plume- grass, through which the path I was following wound its way deviously. I also noted with satisfaction that there was a wel- come absence of trees. Boldly I plunged into the grass, which towered some feet above my head, and a comforting feeling of security began to steal over me. Vain delusion ! The grass afforded excellent cover for the agile baboons and yave the larger animals an op- portunity of coming to close quarters with me without being observed until they were almost within reach. Of this opportu- nity the cunning brutes availed themselves to the full, so that my passage through the plume-grass became a veritable nightmare. Knowing that if once these great brutes got hold of me I should be lost, these repeated attacks drove me well-nigh frantic; for some- times their clutching fingers grazed my arm, and already in imagination 1 could feel them closing on my throat in a vice-like grip. As I hastened onwards I continued to fire occasionally, but the baboons seemed to take little or no notice of the gun now, pressing their pursuit and attack closer and ever closer, with a frenzied determination and persistence that rendered me almost hopeless. Every minute made my position more desperate ; the baboons seemed to read my very thoughts, and to press me the harder as my despair grew greater. As I stumbled onwards, panting for breath, I looked ahead anxiously, longing for the appearance of the village I was making for. Suddenly the idea occurred to me—Why not fire the grass? A stiffish breeze was blowing in my face, and I might by this means clear away to safety. With trembling fingers I struck a match and applied it to the tall grass behind me, which was as dry as tinder. In an instant the stuff was in a roaring blaze, the area of the conflagration gradually widening as the wind drove the flames farther in. Chattering and barking excitedly, the baboons fled before the blaze, and by a spurt I gained two or three “IN AN INSTANT THE STUFF WAS IN A ROARING BLAZE.” hundred yards. It was then that I made what threatened to be a fatal mistake. I saw the village ahead, and it seemed to me to be quite near—so near, in fact, that I imagined by sprinting smartly I might reach it quickly before the baboons could follow ; so off I went. In a moment I saw my error. The fire had now burnt itself out, leaving a sort of passage which my pursuers were not slow to take advantage of. As I ran the baboons came after me like a pack of hounds, barking and snapping furiously. It was too late to alter my tactics, and as I dashed along at my best speed the

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268 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. thought flashed through my mind, adding not a little to my misery: What would they think of their comrade in the camp could they see him now, the hunter being hunted ? However, there was not much time for thought, for soon I saw that the horrible brutes had headed me off again, and were now standing directly in my path! Clubbing my carbine I rushed on, determined to clear a way. I went at them headlong, but, nevertheless, a few of the smaller animals, with their usual persistence, managed to jump at my-legs and give me several sharp bites. Halting for a moment, I lashed out with the butt of my carbine, knocking over about three or four. In spite of this the larger ones were quickly gaining courage, some of them coming very close in, mouthing horribly and reaching for me with their huge fingers. It was necessary that I “MALTING FUR A MOMENT, { LASHED OUT WITH THE UUTT OF MY CARBINE.” should have both hands at liberty in order to fire the carbine properly, so, reversing my carbine— for I feared to damage it by trying to club the big fellows—I started to shoot, and being so close every shot told. I do not know which affected them most—the noise or the shots. At the first three or four they ran ; then they began to stop, seeming to gain courage. By this time Thad slackened my pace, although walking as fast as I dared, all the time being harassed by the small animals, which kept biting at my legs, although, owing to the protection afforded by the puttees, the bites were not so severe as they would otherwise have been. To my horror I perceived that they were gradually encircling me once more, and the village being still some distance off I began to think that I was going to lose the number of my mess after all. But I still struggled on, firing as fast as I could thrust the cartridges into my carbine. By this time I was get- ting terribly exhausted ; any great exertion in a place like Nigeria is calculated to put a severe strain on one’s strength and endurance, and I felt that I could not go much farther. If I did not reach the village soon, or if assistance of some kind did not arrive, it seemed clear to me that I was doomed. Thrusting my hand into my pocket I found to my dismay that I had used my last cartridge! The discovery almost drove me frantic, but I decided to make one final effort to reach a place of safety. Clubbing my carbine again and swinging it round my head, I made a dash for the village, with the howl- ing simians scrambling all round me, biting and snatch- ing at my limbs. I had not gone a great way, my breath coming in gulps, when suddenly I fell all of a heap into an un- noticed hollow. In a flash my mind was filled with a lurid vision of awful death, and in imagination I felt myself being torn asunder ; but the next moment I became conscious that the

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SOME SPORTING EXPERIENCES. 269 baboons had left me, and that the air was filled with a somewhat musical tintinnabulation and the sounds of many *hative voices. Looking up, I perceived that I was alone, and that a crowd of natives were approaching at a fast trot, shouting and beating a number of tin cans. With joy I realized that I was quite near the village, and that the inhabitants were advancing to my assistance. Frightened at the approach- ing tumult, the baboons had beat a hasty retreat. As for myself, after spending some time resting in the village, I made my way back to camp, thankful for my narrow escape. I was told later that if I had had a companion with me, or had stood my ground firmly after shooting the first baboon, I should probably not have been attacked. But it is not given to a man to be wise at all times, especially during such frenzied moments as those I have described, and I do not think that I had a great deal to reproach myself with—unless it was the impulse which led me’ to shoot the big baboon in the first place. II.—TRAPPED ! By G. A. Corper, F.R.G.S. I Hap only been in China a year, and at the time of my story held a Government appoint- ment at Whampoa —an island in the Pearl River, about ten miles from Canton City. In the days before foreign ships were allowed into Canton waters, Whampoa anchorage was as far as they might go up the river. Consequently all vessels under a foreign flag had to drop anchor there and discharge their cargoes into native lighters, or “chops,” for transhipment to Canton ; and the same arrangement was carried out for cargo coming from Canton for Europe, which was loaded up in the ships at Whampoa. At that time the river, with its numerous tributaries and crecks, swarmed with pirates and smugglers, the former swooping down at dead of night, pillaging unsuspecting villages and murdering the inhabitants in the most cold- blooded manner. Often they carried away the principal elders, holding them for ransom, while in many cases their captives were sold to coolie- kidnappers as slaves for export to Peru. As an officer in the Canton Viceroy’s service I have had some exciting experiences and many a tough fight with the junks of these kidnappers and pirates, but that is another story. I have apparently been wandering away from the immediate detail of my adventure, but it is necessary to my purpose to describe the dangerous state of the Canton river waters ; to show the danger that a foreigner had to face and risk when of a sporting or exploring turn of mind, for these piratical wretches literally swarmed everywhere, ready to swoop down upon anyone and everything. So thoroughly was this danger recognised that on board the foreign ships at Whampoa at sundown the side-ladders were always hoisted up, and every rope-end that might be hanging over the ship’s side was hauled on board, so as to offer little facility for boarding in the dead of night, when officers or crew might be murdered in.their sleep by these cut-throat robbers. These, then, were the amiable and considerate gentry that a foreigner ran the risk of meeting when tempted to seek some relaxation from duty by indulging in a little expedition. As a new arrival in “Far Cathay” I had always been advised by older residents, who knew of these conditions, not to spend a night in a native boat on the waters of the river, or even a single hour after dark if avoidable. However, I was young, a keen sportsman, and fond of adventure ; accordingly I made up my mind to have a day's shooting amongst the creeks and mud-flats at the Second Bar, Pagoda Islands, some miles down the river from Whampoa, an excellent place for good sport, but also a favourite haunt of opium smugglers and “snake-boat ” pirates. After considerable negotiation and haggling through the medium of my cook—a most use- ful member of one’s household for such work— I at last managed to find three boatmen willing, on consideration of a liberal distribution of dollars and a few other conditions, to take me down in their “ slipper-boat ” to my shooting- ground, stipulating to be only one night on the water. Rejoiced at my success, I at once arranged for my little expedition, my servant looking after the “chow” and sleeping arrangements aboard. I made up a good assortment of cartridges, for it was quite possible to meet game ranging from a tiger to a snipe; and besides my twelve- bore sporting gun I took a Snider rifle. The “ slipper-boat ” is a particularly fast craft, short and of good width, running to almost a point at the fore end ; it draws but little water and skims upon the surface, being propelled with consider- able speed by three men, who stand up and push their oars, facing the bow of the boat. The roofing and sides are composed of bamboo mats which slide along, forming a comfortable shelter from the sun by day and a sleeping compartment by night. As ;the. afternoon )began (to wane into early

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270 THE WIDE WORLD “FOUND THE HOAT AWAITING MY ARRIVAL” evening I went down to the steps of my com- pound at the river-side, where I found the boat awaiting my arrival, and at once got on board with my servant, Ah Chun. As we glided down the river on the ebb-tide we passed the funny little crowd of hovels built upon piles over the water, and dignified with the honourable designation of “Bamboo Town.” The inmates, squatting on their platforms, showed great astonishment at seeing a sampan proceeding down the river so near to dusk, asking Ah Chun who the “foreign devil” in the boat was, where he was going to, and what he was going to do. When he told them, one after another—thir ‘ting the foreigner mad— shouted the same farewell, which Ah Chun assured me was the comforting good-bye and caution, “The pirates will catch you !” And so we went skimming over the water, until the friendly lights of the ships at Whampoa had gradually faded out of sight. Then as we crept in under the shade of the banks and out of the up-coming tide, which had now com- menced to run, we all kept on the alert, in case MAGAZINE. anything of a suspicious nature might, come along. Now, as every boat came into view, the master sampan man asked for my field-glasses to examine the craft at a safe distance, to see if those on board were robbers or not. During this time our men would stop pulling and hold an earnest conversation as to what each boat was, passing my glasses from one to the other and deciding as to its nature, whilst I arranged my guns in order before me and took a look myself at the suspicious- looking boats. At one time we sighted a “ snake - boat” that suddenly appeared to view out of a small creek about a quarter of a mile ahead of us; then occurred the same inspection with my glasses, handed from one to the other, followed by a very excited and animated conversation, for the men were convinced this was a pirate. Soon after, however, we saw the suspicious craft pull round and disappear up a small creek, either not noticing us or considering our boat unworthy their attention. Excitements like these had kept me fully awake for some hours, until at last a creeping feeling of drowsiness got the better of me and I fell off to sleep. The sudden stoppage of my boat awoke me, when I found that we had arrived at our destination for the night, and were in one of the numerous creeks intersecting the mud-flat islands. My boatmen drove a long bamboo into the mud and made their boat fast to it, while I looked around, and by the light of the stars could see the high, frowning mud-banks on either side of me, fringed with long coarse grass. As there were yet some three or four hours before daybreak I decided to sleep until then, the three boatmen taking watch about. Rising at daybreak, I got into my shooting tig and stepped ashore with my gun and well- filled cartridge-belt, and set out over the mud- flats in search of game. These mud-flats extend for miles without a tree, hillock, or stone to vary their monotony, the only break in the landscape being the high pagoda that stands up boldly in the midst of the mud-stretch. So, to make a distinguishing mark enabling me to return, I had my large bath-towel fastened flagwise to the

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SOME SPORTING EXPERIENCES. 271 top of the long bamboo at the bow of my boat. I soon got into the thick of my shooting, but what sport I had is immaterial here ; what hap- pened to me before the day was over was quite sufficient to eliminate all memory of my bag for all time. I had wandered several miles away from my boat, floundering about here and there in the patches of soft mud—so yielding some- times that I had to retrace my steps and try again elsewhere. In my eagerness for sport I strayed along in quite a reckless way. Seeing a large flock of wild geese feeding some few hundred yards off, I endeavoured to make a bee-line for them, as straight as I could go, pro- ceeding in a crouching position through the cover that the patches of long grass afforded. At last I came to the edge of the high bank of an empty creek, which tantalizingly barred my further progress. I knew that the tide had been for some time on the ebb, and, as events soon proved, it was at the time just about dead low water, and about to flow again. I was too keen on getting the geese to let this creek stop me, however, and thinking that at the most I should not be more than knee-deep in mud, if the bed were as firm as my ignorance of the country led me to imaging it would be, I slipped down the bank and ‘com- menced to wade over, finding the bottom uncom- monly soft. As I progressed I got into greater difficulties still, the mud yielding more and more. This was my first experience of fording a Chinese creek, and in ven- turing the attempt I ima- gined that as I neared the middle the bottom would be a hard stony or sandy one. I was, however, soon to be undeceived, for, as I drew out my legs from the clinging slime, each step I took I seemed to be sucked deeper and deeper down. Gradually I sank more and more, until at last it became impossible for me to draw out a leg “AS I PROGRESSED I GOT INTO GREATER DIFFICULTIES STILL.” at all. I had stuck fast in the tenacious, treacherous mud, which was now holding me as if in the embrace of a huge octopus, immovable and helpless! I could neither go forward nor return. The appalling gravity of my situation im- mediately flashed through my brain. I was a prisoner, stuck hard and fast in the bed of a creek, the water of which would soon rise and overwhelm me. I was far away from any human aid; it was obvious that I had to die. But what a death ! The incoming tide was rising with measured, diabolical certainty, while I was fixed there and should watch the water rise inch by inch until it should overwhelm me and gradually suffocate me. I should die the same death as is meted out as a punishment to some Chinese criminals, who are bound toa stake in the bed of a river for the rising tide to drown. It was a com- forting, cheering outlook, surely ! ; I shouted for aid as I had never shouted before, yet knowing only too well that I was too far away from my boat for my men to hear me; still, I shouted. I fired shot after shot, conscious all the time that if my men heard them they would only think that “Massa _ shoot plenty bird!” There was no doubt that the tide was coming up, for the water was now creep- ing higher and higher up my legs, whilst I seemed to sink lower and lower into the mud as the moments passed. Up and up came the ice-cold flood till it reached my chest, and still on, until my face was splashed by the ripples, driven along by a strong north-east wind. Ere long the turbid flood was swirling against my chin, and still rising relentlessly. Can anyone appreciate the agony of mind T endured at this time ? All the incidents of my past life, good ‘or,bad, flashed before me. My

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272 THE whole life was vividly presented during the time I stood helplessly there, facing a slow and horrible death. There was no help for it, I told myself ; I was doomed ! At that last moment of agonizing despair, however, a feeble sound struck upon my ear— a sound different to the monotonous lapping of the rising water. There it was again, louder, but unintelligible. My nerves were now braced up, my hearing accentuated. Again I heard it, and this time I recognised it—the splash of boat-oars in the distance beyond the bend that obstructed my view! Then the thought flashed through my mind; ‘What manner of boat is it? Are the rowers friends or foes?” Friends nothing less than a miracle could bring to my succour ; foes—well, I was past caring. I had two dry cartridges in my gun, and could die game, at any rate. It was more than possible that it was the pirate snake-boat we had seen go up the creek the previous night. Suddenly I saw ““THE COMBINED EFFORTS OF THESE MEN DRAGGED ME OUT OF THE RISING FLOOD.” WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. them as the boat swept round the bend in the creek, and I counted five half-naked, dark- skinned men, pulling and punting the long, low boat. Now for it! I levelled my gun and shouted, awaiting their coming and ready to fire if they should be enemies. Just then something in the boat caught my eye. I saw a pile of cut grass, and knew at once that the men were grass-cutters, simple farmer folk. I should be saved! Then my mind became a blank. What happened next, I only learned when I recovered from the severe attack of malarial fever that immediately followed my exposure to the sub- tropical sun and the cold chill of the water, together with the fearful strain upon my nerves which the dreadful experience I had passed through had caused. The surmise I had formed whilst the remaining spark of consciousness remained with me was correct ; the five occu- pants of the boat turned out to be simple grass- cutters, who, having cut their load of long grass, were returning from the mud-flats when they most providentially came across me, with just my head out of water. The combined efforts of these men dragged me out of the rising flood just in time, and I fell senseless down in the bottom of their boat. As they pulled towards the creck’s mouth they saw my large towel flying at the bamboo top some dis- tance away. Finding the creek wherein my craft was lying, they pulled their boat up it, yelling lustily to attract the atten- tion of my men. Reach- ing my boat, the faithful Ah Chun stripped my clothing off, rolled me in a blanket, and_ briskly rubbed me with the con- tents of my whisky bottle, also forcing several strong draughts of the spirit down my throat, until life came back to me. My boat all the time was travelling again towards Whampoa, where I was at once placed under the ministering care of the doctor, who brought me safely through a_ very severe fever. It is need- less to say that those poor grass-cutters were liber- ally rewarded. (Zo be concluded.)

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A STRANGE STORY OF A “HAUNTED” By GLEDHILL HALtas. CURIO. An extraordinary narrative from the Isle of Man, dealing with a “haunted” curio—the war-bow of a New Guinea chief! Mr. Hallas, a well-known public man of Nottingham, made a special investi- gation of the affair on the spot, and here records the result of his visit. the Carlton Hotel at Douglas, Isle of Man, that I first heard from my friend “Miss Barker something concerning the strange story of the chief’s bow. , Determined to learn more, I proceeded next morning by train to Port St. Mary, where I inquired for Mr. William Kelly, the cox- swain of the lifeboat. Mr. Kelly is well known and highly re- spected by everybody in Port St. Mary, and no one doubts for a moment the truth of his statements as_ set forth in the following narrative. His wife and daughter, whom I interviewed while awaiting his return Vol. xvii. —35. T was one cold night in November last, while seated round the fire in MR. GLEDHILL HALLAS, WHO HERE RELATES THE EXTRA- ORDINARY STOKY OF THE HAUNTED Bow, From a Photo. from a fishing trip, fully confirm his extra- ordinary narrative in every detail. And now let me tell the story as it was told to me. It appears that many years ago Mr. Edward Kelly, the coxswain’s brother, emigrated to Australia, and is now a successful contractor there. During the summer of 1902 he returned to Port St. Mary on a visit to his brother William. He brought with him from Australia, amongst other presents for his brother’s family, a very fine bow, some arrows, and a spear, which had been given to him ere leaving by a sailor with whom he was acquainted. Whether the story -connected with the bow up to its arrival in the IsleJof Man be truth or

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274 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. fiction, I do not pretend to say, nor attempt to prove ; but the fact remains that the sailor was very anxious to part with the bow. It was, he seriously asserted, possessed of a devil ! Mr. Edward Kelly was fully convinced that the sailor, at any rate, believed his own state- ment, though when the man told him his story he laughed at the notion as ridiculous. Many extraordinary incidents connected with the bow were related in Australia for which I cannot vouch, and therefore do not repeat ; but it is necessary to explain that it was said to have been originally the property of a chief of one of the native tribes who inhabit the Trobriand Islands, off the northern coast of British New Guinea. It was a favourite weapon of the chief, The chief’s bow was hung on a picture-nail above the piano in the front sitting-room, as I saw it myself. *From the day that this weapon was hung on the wall the room became “haunted ”—I know of no other word that suitably describes the phenomena which were observed there. Startling and unaccountable noises, weird whisperings, footsteps, and shadows kept the family in a continual state of alarm, though they tried to laugh the matter off as a joke. “The old chief wants his bow,” they told each other, smilingly. ‘‘ Something is going to happen in New Guinea, and the chief wants his bow.” But the intimation that the chief wanted his “WHILE MR, KELLY'S NIECE WAS PLAVING THE PIANO, THE BOW SUDDENLY SPRANG FROM THE WALL.” and had either been secretly stolen or forcibly taken from him by British sailors. In conse- quence, a kind of fetish “tabu” * had been solemnly placed upon it by the medicine: man or sorcerer of the tribe, and a “puripuri,” or curse, on whoever should hold it. However all that may be, Mr. William Kelly, of Port St. Mary, and all the members of his family can bear testimony to the following as absolute facts.t +A “tabu” object is supposed to be placed under the protection of certain spirits, who will wreak dire vengeance on anyone interfer- ing with it. + Mr. Kelly writes: “All that I have told Mr. G. Hallas about the chiefs bow is the truth.” bow was soon to assume a more practical shape. One evening in December—the date should be borne in mind—while Mr. Kelly’s niece was playing the piano, the bow suddenly sprang from the wall and flew into the middle of the floor. She jumped up in terror and ran screaming from the room, and was not easily induced to enter it again. A variety of circumstances, of course, might have caused the weapon to fall from the wall, but, nevertheless, no one could imagine what the cause could be, or how it came about that the bow received sufficient impetus to spring right into the middle of the(room.

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THE CHIEFS BOW. 275 However, Mr. Kelly said that he would pre- vent a similar accident occurring again, and, taking up a coil of copper bell-wire, he most securely attached the bow to a strong nail driven firmly into the wall. There could be no “ifs” and “buts” about the matter now ; no breath of wind, no sudden jar, and no ordinary accident could bring that bow from the wall again. A man could hang on the wire and nail without displacing them or affecting them jn the slightest degree. But still that savage chief, in his far-away isle, called persistently for his bow, and the family no longer pretended to disguise from themselves the facts of the case. It was not only a curious, but a serious matter; for a few days later, when every person in the house was sitting in the back room, a violent commotion was heard in the front room, which was unoc- cupied and in darkness. Mr. Kelly immediately procured a light and led the way into the apartment. The bow was found on the floor as before, without a scratch. The stout copper wire was hanging in shreds, but nothing else had been interfered with. ‘There was no indication of any sort of disturbance, and nothing which could explain the extraordinary noise all the members of the family had heard. ‘What power or in- fluence had been exerted to wrench the bow from the grip of the wire— fastened to the great nail with a_ sailor's dexterity—was utterly inconceivable. They could only stare at the bow in pro- found astonish- ment. These facts, mys- terious as they seem, are indisput- able; they were made known to friends of the Kellys at the time of their occurrence, and _ ac- cepted without hesi- tation, because they could not doubt the solemn assertions of all the members of the family, which, “THE BOW WAS LYING ON THE FLOOR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOMe™ as I have said, is held in high esteem locally. Whether the bow was “ possessed of a devil ”— as the sailor believed—or not, Mr. Kelly deter- mined to have another trial of strength with it. He therefore drove “vo more nails into the wall —one for each end of the bow—besides the one for the middle of it, and then fastened it at the three points with copper wire as securely as his ingenuity could devise. Every night the doors and windows were carefully attended to, and every precaution taken to keep out any practical joker. It was quite impossible for anyone to gain an entrance into the house without leaving positive evidence of his intrusion. But still the chief called peremptorily for his bow. Day after day and night after night the weird noises continued, and the family became more and more alarmed. Early one morning, a few days after the bow had been re-hung on the wall, a terrific crash was heard, and in sheer desperation all the Kellys rushed downstairs and into the sitting- room, expecting to find everything smashed to atoms. To their intense surprise, however, absolutely nothing whatever had been moved or injured in the slightest manner, but the bow was lying on the floor in the middle of the room as before, while the wire hung in shreds from the nails, every thread having been broken, apparently by super- human force! 7 Thereupon Mr. Kelly acknowledged his im- potence; he simply hung the bow on the nails and left it to take its own course. And now comes a curious point. From that day to this the bow has given no more trouble, and it was rest- ing peace- fully in its appointed

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276 THE WIDE WORLD place when I made its acquaintance in Novem- ber last. Willam Kelly was not appointed coxswain of the hfeboat without good reason, for he is a brave and intelligent man. He was convinced that sooner or later some link in the chain of unaccountable events connected with the chief's bow would be discovered, which would furnish some explanation of the mystcrious phenomena MAGAZINE. 1902, a tribal fight, which had been simmering for years, broke out on the Kitawa Island, one of the Trobriand Group, between the Larena tribe and the Kumageya tribe. Manaiea, the chief of the Larena, claimed chieftainship of the Kumageya also—hence the trouble. A force of Government police was sent to quell the out- break, and the Chief Manaiea was captured. It was while he was in custody and deprived which he and his family had observed. Day by day he closely scanned the newspapers, and a fort- night after the last scene in which the bow played so conspicuous a part some light was thrown on the affair. In the London Times of December 31st, 1902, a Reuter’s telegram from Sydney was published, stating that a conflict had taken place between if ' EUROPEANS MURDERED IN NEW: GUINEA. SYDNEY, Duc. 31.* Advices from New Guinea state that two Earo- pean prospectors have been brutally murdered by: jnatives and that other murders are feared. The. [disastrous drought has gaused the natives to jresort to cannibalism. ousands are starving) and endeavouring to subsist on roots. Twenty-five natives have been killed in a tribal fight. THE PAKAGRAPH THAT APPEARED IN THE ‘TIMES’ FOR DECEMBER BIST, 1902, AND WHICH Mk, KELLY BELIEVES HAS SOME CONNECTION WITH THE MYSTERIOUS BEHAVIOUR OF THE CHIEF'S BOW, of his weapons — in December, 1902—that the occult force was exercised on the bow. That much is certain, so that, although it cannot be proved, of course, that the. weapon actually be- longed to him, the inference is obvious. Unfortunately, the re- port does not record whether the chief was condemned to death or not, and the Colonial Office has no further some of the tribes in New Guinea, in which many of the natives had been killed. This paragraph is here reproduced in facsimile. Mr, Kelly was satisfied in his own mind that the owner of the bow was killed on the day when the weapon was so violently wrenched from the nails in his house. Curiosity induced me to pursue the matter farther. Perusing the annual report of the Administrator of British New Guinea, issued by the Australian Government, and courteously lent to me by the late Colonial Secretary, the Right Hon. A. Lyttelton, M.P., I found that the Resident Magistrate reports that in November, From a) THE BOW AS IT HANGS TO-DAY ON THE WALL OF MR. KELLY'S( HOUSE, information. The report goes on to say that “ witchcraft and sorcery play a very.prominent part in the lives of the natives of these islands”—a fact which Mr. Kelly and his family are quite pre- pared to believe. And here I must leave this curious affair, for I can add nothing to what I have put down. I shall not attempt any explanations; all I can say is that everything herein recorded is, to the best of my belief and knowledge, absolutely true, and the statements made concerning the behaviour of the bow can be confirmed by many teputable people in the Isle of Man. (Photo.

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Across Mexico on Horseback. By Gitson WILLETS. Ill. The final instalment of this absorbing narrative, setting forth the author’s adventures in the Great American Desert and other exciting incidents of travel in the wilderness. 7 ITH the doctor, two Texas cowboys, and a Mexican who drove our canvas-covered wagon, I was in the Great American Desert in Mexico, yet close to its eastern edge, where irrigation has reclaimed a country that was once a part of the desert. We had started from the southern end of the great waste, and were work- ing our way up to the Rio Grande with the intention of ending the journey at Las Cruces, New Mexico, in time to see a remarkable dance of the Pueblo Indians, which was to take place there. It is only here and there that the American Desert is bare of vegetation, though some of these patches are sand-wastes as large as Wales. For the most part, however, the desert has a sprinkling of mesquite-brush and cactus. Nor is it a perfectly level stretch ; there rise hills and even mountains. Now and then we chanced upon emaciated cattle, nibbling the cactus in a The more they futile attempt to sustain life. nibbled the thinner they grew, so deficient was their fodder in nutriment. In such a pasture cattle quickly perish, hence the bleaching bones and skulls that sometimes lay strewn in our path. Not the fate of animals alone occupied our minds where Nature was so mercilessly cruel. There were thoughts of the un- fortunate travellers whose graves we passed. Once, in a single day’s ride, we counted six graves, pre- sumably of those who, crossing through the heart of the desert from the opposite direction, * could go no farther, but perished miserably almost in sight From a\ of salvation. Where white men die, red men live, though why even an Indian should volun- tarily elect to dwell in so inhospitable a region is a puzzle. But there they are, true Arabs of the desert, members of the meekest tribe of Indians in North America—the Papagoes. Ten thousand Papagoes dwell in the desert—half the number in Old Mexico, the other half in New Mexico. Wherever water can be obtained permanently, there the Papagoes have their ranchertas. Once we camped overnight near a group of such habitations. ‘The huts were made of upright poles plastered with mud. In each case the only opening was a door, and in every case that door faced the east. From one of the Papagoes who spoke Spanish we learned why the doors of all the abodes of his tribesmen opened toward the rising sun, and why those doors were never closed. His people, he said, looked for the coming of the Messiah, whom he called ‘ Moctezuma.” GRIM RELICS IN THE DESERT. (Photo

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278 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “ Moctezuma was a great chief,” said the Indian. “ But his people tried to kill him with a stone hatchet, so he went away toward the east. Before he went he promised his people that when they were in their direst trouble he would return to them with the rising sun, that he would then make his people the greatest on earth, make the desert to bloom like a garden, and make slaves of the white men. So we still watch for Moctezuma’s coming. And that the Messiah may enter any one of our homes when he does come, po door is closed against him.” The intelligent Papagoe told us this story of his people while he sat in our tent. When he departed we noticed that he left his peculiar body-odour behind him, and we aired the tent. The next day we met him some distance from his hut. “We have just been to your house,” we said. “T_ know that, sefors,” he replied, “for I have just been there myself.” How did he know we had been there? we asked him. He lived alone, so there was no one to tell him of our visit, and we had left no sign that we had entered his hut. “T would rather not tell you how I know, sefiors,” he replied. But we plied him with questions, and finally he said, “ Seiors, I knew by the smell!” We understood. Every race has its distinctive body-odour. ‘The odour of the white men in his hut was as plain to that red man as the odour of his red skin had been to us in our tent the day before. Since then African travellers have told me that black men detect the fact that whites have been in a certain place as easily as whites know “by the smell” that blacks have come and gone. The heat was intense, of course, but not intolerable. So we travelled by day rather than by night, so as to “see things.” One evening, after a day’s ride during which we had seen no sign of water, we camped for the first time without a supply to hand. We had only just enough water in our canteens to make coffee for supper and breakfast, but we used it. With the first streak of light in the morning we were on the trail of a party ahead of us—a trail we had followed since first entering the desert. The day passed without sign of water, and that night men and beasts endured all the tortures of thirst so often described by desert travellers. The following morning we got some relief by eating chocolate. But twenty-four hours had now passed since we had drunk the coffee made of our last drop of water, and we thought of riding east out of the desert. “No,” said the younger of our cowboys, whom we called Kid. “The outfit ahead of us is surely going to water. Why, otherwise, are they still going north ?” That reminded us of the trail. We were at the beginning of a rocky area several miles square, as our map showed. With the rock the trail ended ; at least, it seemed to do so to the doctor and me. But Kid said “Wait!” and on his hands and knees he began examining the granite ledge with all the care of a botanist examining flowers. “Well, we won't follow that trail,” be said, finally. “I found it, though.” Then he showed us a train of very minute particles of jute on the grey rocky floor, and the trail was at once as plain to us as the rock itself. Those ahead of us had muffled their horses’ hoofs with gunny-sacking. “And they’ve done it to throw us ‘off the trail,” said Kid. “They were going direct to water when they passed here ; and they knew it. Also, they knew we should follow. They are going to a water-hole; but it’s a mighty small one, and they want it all to themselves. They would use their guns on us for certain. And they wouldn't call the gun-play murder; they would call it self-preservation. We'll keep away from that outfit. Santa Maria is on the rim of the desert, just east of here. It’s a big town. Let’s go there.” Two hours later, to our inexpressible joy, we found water, abandoned all thought of Santa Maria, and prepared to camp. Kid was helping the Mexican to unharness the wagon horses, when suddenly he began swearing as only a cowboy can. “ Didn't know that mare weighed so much,” was all he would say in explanation of his profanity. But when the start was made next morning, instead of vaulting into his saddle he let his partner lead his broncho and himself climbed into the wagon, saying, “ That mare crushed my big toe ; that’s all.” During the day Kid grew paler and paler with the pain, but he uttered no complaint. We camped early. In the night the doctor threw himself on the ground beside me and whispered, “ve been examining Kid’s foot. I fear blood- poisoning. He needs a surgeon. I can do nothing for bim here without instruments ; we'd better hitch up and get to Santa Maria.” We did not reach Santa Maria till late the next night. As we entered the town someone cried, “Halt!” A soldier came running toward us with his bayonet advanced. ‘‘Who are you?” he demanded. “Strangers,” we replied. ‘And we want none of your tomfoolery.. We want a surgeon.” Instantly the sentry whipped out his revolver and a shot rent the still air. Another sentry came running up, and then both sentries in

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 279 chorus informed us that we were under arrest. “What for?” we asked. There was no answer. And with a sentry on each side of us—we had been forced to dismount and they were leading our horses, with the wagon and poor Kid in the rear—we were marched to an adobe building— the jail, of course, and a foul enough place. There we were ordered to fill in a document giving reasons for “being outside our domicile after 10 p.m., thus defying the statutes.” We declared that we had no domicile in that town to be out of. But the jailer made no reply, merely handing us a large yellow envelope, into which we wére ordered to insert the document which we had filled in. We were not alone in our prison. There were other “convicts,” principally peons, one of whom said to us: “The sefiors should have put silver that Kid would be all right within two weeks. Kid was forthwith made comfortable in the surgeon’s house, as were also the doctor and myself, while the remaining cowboy and the Mexican were ordered to camp on the edge of the town. “And now will you please tell us what all that foolery at the jail was about?” we asked our new friend. The surgeon laughed. “ You were curfewites, my friends. This town is a hundred. miles from a railway, with the prairie on the left of it and the desert on the right. It is out of touch with the busy world, and it still rings the curfew. The law is that any stranger abroad in the town after ten o’clock at night, when the curfew rings, shall be arrested and kept in the lock-up until be can be accounted = “THE CHURCH AT SANTA MARIA, WHERE THE CURFEW IS RUNG EVERY EVENING AT TEN O'CLOCK —THE AUTHOR AND HIS COMPANIONS WERE ARRESTRD AND LODGED IN JAIL FOR BEING ABROAD From a) in the yellow envelope.” So enlightened were we by this information that we summoned our jailer and craved permission to “make a cor- rection” in the document. The document was brought, and in the envelope containing it we dropped a goodly weight of silver. The effect was marvellous. The jailer appeared and, bowing obsequiously, announced that the sefiors, the Americanos,-waifld honour him by allowing two of his mento accompany us to the house of a surgeon ! The surgeon was as glad to get out of bed to welcome’us as we were to greet him, for he was an American. After one Iook at Kid’s foot he said the toe would have to be amputated, but AFTER THIS HOUR, (Photo. for. The law is the result of the fact that this part of Mexico is infested with bandits, who raid the town occasionally, and even loot the mayor's house, with a view to knifing the mayor and appointing one of their ‘ friends’ in the town to office in his stead. By arresting every stranger, no matter who, possible lurking desperadoes may be included. The curfewites, however, usually pay the few pieces of silver demanded, as you did, rather than pass the night along with common felons in the jail.” By daylight we discovered that Santa Maria was, indeed, the quaintest town of its size we had seen in Mexico. Great, unwieldy carts, with wheels made of solid slices of tree-trunks,

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SANTA MARIA WAS A HUNDRED MILES FROM A RAILWAY, BETWEES AND SOME QUAINT SIGHTS WEKE TO BE SEEN IN ITS PRIMITIVE STREETS. From a Phote and drawn by six oxen, seemed to be the only form of vehicle common to the place. When- ever the natives passed the. “cathedral,” as the adobe church was called, they lifted their sombreros reverently. If a man passed the cathedral twenty times a day, twenty times he lifted his sombrero. In the belfry of the quaint church (I speak of a Sunday morning) a peon stood ringing the bell, pulling the clapper from side to side by means of a rope. It was this same bellringer who tolled the curfew each night as a warning to all who might be ‘out of their domiciles.” After we had been in the town a week we were no longer regarded as strangers, but were per- mitted to roam about the streets all night, if we chose, without fear of the curfew law. One evening, taking advantage of our nocturnal liberty, the doctor and I saw in the darkness—there are no street lamps in Santa Maria—the glow of a cigar. The glow moved towards us. Then suddenly it seemed to be extinguished. In a few minutes the glow again appeared and ad- vanced towards us, only to vanish as before. “Perhaps the man be- hind that cigar is one of those desperadoes for whom the curfew law From al THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. exists,” said the doctor. ‘SNo, he’s only a lover,” I whispered, for I knew the ways of courtship in Mexico. The lover never does his courting within the walls of a house, at least not in the first degree of the court- ship. It is only the senorita who stands within the walls; the young sehor remains outside. This method of courtship has three degrees. In the first the lover marches up and down outside the seforita’s house. On dark nights he can- not be seen by the girl, so he smokes innu- merable cigars or cigarettes, and as long as the girl sees the glow she knows her lover is at his post. The second degree begins when the lover marches up and down before the house in the daytime. If the seforita appears at her iron-barred window, it is a sign that she accepts the attentions of the lover. Then, day after day and night after night, they talk through the window bars. In the third degree the lover boldly enters the house, and soon the engage- ment is announced. So that evening when the smoker (whom the doctor mistook for a desperado) turned his back to us, in his THE PRAIKIR AND THE DESERT, A MEXICAN COURTSHIP,

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4 c ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 281 devotional pacing before the house of his lass, the glow of his cigar was seemingly extinguished until he again turned toward us. Two weeks passed, but Kid was not able to get on his feet. We said good-bye rather than farewell, for he promised to meet us at the “round up” of our hunting party on the Rio Grande. Our experiences during the next two weeks were only such as fall to every desert traveller, until we reached one of the great, white sand wastes. Here we had an experience worth recording—we walked on gold! On one of the sand knolls a number of Pueblo Indians were encamped. They were citizens of the United States—for we were now in New Mexico—the men even having the right to vote. Among them were half-breed men and women, half Mexican and half Pueblo, who spoke English, and from these we gathered the story of that place where we literally walked on gold— minute particles of the precious metal which WHERE THE TRAVELLERS “ From a) was said to exist on the surface of the sand. As a fact, however, I had once before walked on gold of the same description in another part of that same desert. It was in a “sand basin” in California owned by a man named King, and only King had the right to “mine” it. Here in New Mexico, however, the gold in the sands is claimed by no one, and whosoever cares may help himself. Why, then, did not the Pueblos and the half-breed boys and girls whom we found Vol. xvii,—36, playing games on the sands—why did not these gather the gold on which they knew they were treading ? The answer is that the man who works that gold-dust as a “ get-rich-quick ” scheme will find himself disappointed. The more of that gold one picks up the poorer he gets. When you have picked up, say, ten tons of sand, you have collected only about sixpennyworth of the precious metal. And to separate sixpennyworth of gold from ten tons of sand costs more than sixpence, so any traveller in that New Mexican El Dorado is welcome to all the gold he can cart away, Such a “miner” would need, for ten tons of sand, at least ten carts each drawn by four mules, and the loads would have to be drawn at least forty miles to the nearest “ separating mill.” After all his work the “miner” would get his sixpence worth of gold, to be sure, but meantime the day’s wage of any one of the men employed to drive his forty mules would exceed a hundredfold the value of all the gold taken from the surface of the desert. Sull, the gold is there. QOccasion- ally we could see its yellow glint, that suggested won- derful possibilities of what is called “gold - mining on the surface.” But though we trod upon gold at every step, not a far- thing’s worth was available. King tried to work his “surface gold- mine” in the Cali- fornia desert, but in the least WALKED ON GOLD”—THESE GHEAT HILLS OF GUISTENING saND cosrainen COStly of his ex- MINUTE PARTICLES OF THE PRECIOUS METAL. (Photo. periments he only secured a shilling’s worth of gold for each two pounds: in cash expended. After a last ride across the mesa, where we were almost blinded by the alkali dust and the cruel glare, we entered the New Mexican town of Las Cruces, a town lying within the desert, yet in a region turned by irrigation into a veritable garden. While waiting there for the Pueblo dance which we had come so far to see, we visited Socorro, a town comprising a population Digitiz Goole

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282 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. of fifteen hundred Mexicans and only three hundred Americans. During the winter that handful of Americans had been holding, every other week, a dance in an adobe building, face- tiously called the “Opera House.” Mexicans were not invited. ‘And so our fortnightly dances came abruptly to an end—for we were ‘shot up,’” said an American citizen of the town. “That is,” he continued, “all of a sudden, while we were making merry in the Opera House, a pistol-shot smote upon our ears, and one of the lamps crashed in pieces to the floor. Then a second shot rang out, grazed the head of a young girl who sat at the piano playing for us, and crashed into the instrument. ‘Then followed a dozen shots in quick succession ; every lamp was shot out, the piano was riddled with bullets, and we were left in total darkness. No one was hit, however. We Americans are used to such things in this place, which is run not by Americans, but by Mexicans. So we quietly filed out of the building into the A/eza. Our appearance there seemed to be the signal for a veritable fusillade of shots, all the bullets striking the adobe wall above us, thus leaving us still unhit. Instead of walking on in a body we scattered in different directions towards our various homes. “The prime movers in that outrage,” con- cluded our friend, “ were two high representa- tives of law and order in the town, both i Cae Yeti ean Ee A TYPICAL PUEBLO DWELLING IN THE TOWN OF Las CRUCRS ” [2 [Photo From a) Mexicans. They were merely venting their spite and jealousy because, as they afterwards declared, ‘We'll teach Americans who want to dance that it is bad for their health to omit inviting us’—‘us’ meaning the Mexican authorities of an American town.” We returned to Las Cruces the night before the dance of the Pueblos. That night the Messilla Valley, in which Las Cruces is situated, was aglow from end to end. ‘Tiny beacons were burning on the roofs of the Pueblo dwellings in the town, and these were answered by much larger beacons burning in high trees in the sur- rounding country and along the lower peaks of the Organ Mountains. ‘The beacons were signals understood only by the Pueblos, though their general purpose was the calling of all members of the tribe to Las Cruces for the dance on the morrow. In the morning I noticed that the paper-bays filled with sand, in which candles had been burned as beacons, still stood on the roofs of the houses of the Pueblos. I was told that these burned-out beacons would be left on the house- tops throughout the year “to keep off evil spirits.” As early as seven o'clock hundreds of Pueblos and other citizens had gathered around the churchyard where the dance was to be held. I say “other” citizens, because the Pueblos were full-fledged citizens the same as white men. Only a few of the Indians, I was told, could

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ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 283 INDIANS DRESSED FOR THE AMAZING DANCE OF THE From a) read or write, though many spoke English as well as Spanish, yet all were privileged to cast a vote. Into the churchyard marched the Pueblos who had been selected to give the dance. I call them Pueblos for convenience, but most of them were half Mexican, as I could plainly see. There were thirty dancers, and they divided themselves into two groups, or “shifts,” of fifteen each. Over their ordinary clothing, or “civilized” attire, they wore yrotesque aprons and sashes of white cotton; the lower part of each man’s face was covered with a calico rag, and on their heads they wore crowns of brass bangles and beads. The master of ceremonies was an aged Pueblo, who wore an ordinary blanket-overcoat. His face was partly hidden in a false beard of white goat’s hair, and in his hat was fastened a part of a bangled and beaded crown. On one arm he carried a doll dressed in white, with a white wig and a bridal veil ; in his other hand he carried a quirt, or short horsewhip. I will explain the uses of the doll and the whip later. The star performers in the dance were a number of little girls ranging in age from five to eight. They were dressed in white, with veils resembling that worn by a bride. The reason of their bridal attire was that in the dance they were supposed to become the bride VERLOS, WHICH IS HERE DESCRIBED —THE LITTLE GIRts IN THe CENTRE WEKE COMPELLED TO DANCE TILL THEY DROPPED UNCONSCIOUS, (Photo. of some sort of a deity. In theory they are sacrificed to an Indian god—and up to five years ago the sacrifice was a reality. ‘That is to say, until five years ago, and for many years before that, a little girl was actually danced to death once a year by these same Pueblo Indians as a sacrifice. At each dance the girl to be danced to death was chosen for the following year, and the parents deemed it a great honour. But the United States Govern- ment finally stopped the annual sacrifice, stipu- lating that henceforth a number of little girls should be used in the dance instead of one. Hence the doll carried by the old man. When the dance was over he threw the doll on the ground, and it was trampled under foot and torn into bits as a symbol of sacrifice. While one of the little girls danced round and round like a whirling Dervish the first “shift” cf dancers began a kind of hop-skip- and-jump around her, all hooting and whooping. Squaws beat an accompaniment, meantime, on tom-toms. Near the girl in the centre stood the old man, lashing the ground furiously with his raw-hide whip. This lashing of the ground was another change enforced by the Govern- ment. Formerly the old man beat the poor little dancing girl until she dropped un- conscious. Even now, whileI watched the girl dancing in

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284 THE WIDE WORLD her tracks as upon a pedestal, she fell in a faint. They carried her away, und she was replaced by another little girl, while the second “ shift” of dancing men took the place of the first. The second little girl was compelled to dance till she swooned, like her predecessor ; and thus the brutal business continued all day long, a fresh girl stepping into the circle whenever the men carried off an unconscious maiden. In former times only one girl performed the dancing, the Indians reviving her over and over again, till the hapless child died from the effects of the ordeal without recovering consciousness. I was told that the girls whom I saw dance at Las Cruces that day “ might recover conscious- ness, or they might not.” At Las Cruces we disposed of our horses and wagon and took the railway to the Rio Grande for the final gathering of our party, as agreed. Hospitable citizens of the ancient Mexican town of Juarez, while we were in that place, provided every possible form of entertainment “ for our distinguished visitors froin the States.” What made the gaiety more general was the fact that we arrived in Juarez on a Sunday during carnival time, a merry-making period throughout Mexico, known as “the Feast of a Hundred Days.” ‘There were cock-fights in the streets, many devout Mexicans tethering their cherished birds to the hitching-posts outside the church before going in to pray. Gambling, however, was the principal amusement during the morning. No peon seemed too poor, no child too young, to risk coppers in a game of chance. Those who could afford silver played roulette or faro in the indoor places. It was chiefly outdoors, however, that we beheld the most interesting side of the Mexi- can craze for gambling. I saw the poorest peons risking their very last coppers; I saw parents of the well-to-do class encouraging their seven-year-old daughter to stake her pennies on roulette. All the Mexicans seemed to be enjoying themselves like so MAGAZINE. going to the gambling bouts and the cock mains in the same spirit that people with whiter skins go toacircus. What we saw that Sunday was typical of the festivities extending over the entire hundred days of the festa, which is half religious, half patriotic. In the afternoon we journeyed into the country to witness what we supposed was to be an exciting scene—a fight between a bull and a lion, We ourselves had provided the bull’s unique opponent, a mountain lion that we caught in the Sierra Madres. We brought the lion north alive, not to give it up to combat in the bull-ring, but to present it to a New York menagerie. At the frontier, however, the American Customs officers barred the lion’s entrance with costly red-tape, for which we were asked to pay. While those in charge of the lion were arguing matters with the Customs inspectors, the manager of a primitive bull-ring in the country happened to come along, and suggested that all trouble could be ended by lending him the lion for his bull-ring. If the lion killed the bull, he said, he would pay all the expenses of shipping the animal to New York, including the Customs duty. This occurred some days before our arrival at the Rio Grande. In the interval the enter- prising manager had set up an iron cage in his ancient bull-ring, where the combat could take place without fear of the lion “ getting loose ”—- for ours was not the first lion that had appeared in that old bull-ring. When we arrived at the scene of the promised combat, therefore, all was THE TOWN OF JUAREZ, WHERE THE GREAT TWELVE-HUNDRED-MILE RIDE ENDED. From a Photo. many children,

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hs es > ACROSS MEXICO ON HORSEBACK. 285 in readiness. Before I describe the fight, how- ever, I must tell you how we got that lion. While in the Sierra Madre country we were told that a lion had been seen several times near a certain ranch, and that, just previous to our arrival, a Mexican boy employed on the ranch was killed, presumably by the lion in question. The boy had been sent after horses to a point two miles from the ranch, and that was the last seen of him alive. When found by the searching party, the lad was dead and the body badly mangled. “We'll get that lion,” said the chief of our hunters, and forthwith we went into camp near From a) the ranch where the boy had been employed. Tracks of the beast were found, leading to water. “ Anybody can get a lion—by shooting him,” said the hunter, whose heart was in the adventure. ‘ Why not get this lion alive ?” Thereupon a pit was dug directly across the lion’s trail. With lariats and other bits of rope, tied cleverly together, a strong net was made and placed in the bottom of the pit. Then the hole . was covered with a flimsy roof of thatch and leaves and the trap was ready. Wild animal hunters who secure beasts for circus enterprises never had better luck than had our own amateur lion-baiters. The business was about as exciting as trapping a fox. The THE FIGHT BETWEEN A LION AND A BULL, WHICH TERMINATED IN AN EASY VICTORY FOR THE BULL. very first morning after the pit was prepared they found the lion ensnared, struggling madly in the net of lariats, but succeeding only in further entangling its legs. Our cowboys lassoed the beast and bound its legs by the methods used in roping and branding asteer. A wagon was converted into a rough but strong cage, with side bars and roof of logs. ‘Then, in its improvised cage, the discomfited lion was taken to the railway and shipped to our rendezvous on the Rio Grande. Now all of us assembled in the old bull-ring for the last episode of our expedition in Mexico. Alas! I can record no deed of (Photo. valour in that arena on the part of our captive lion. His meeting with the bull was no more exciting than his baiting in the pit in the Sierra Madres. In fact, there was no combat at all. The lion was already in the cage when the bull dashed furiously in. At sight of him the lion crouched for a spring in one corner of the cage. Before he could leap, however, the bull was at him, had lifted him high, and flung him with terrific violence against the bars of the opposite side of the cage. Down dropped the lion, stone-dead. The bull’s horns had pierced his heart. And thus ended my adventurous horseback trip across Old and New Mexico.

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In this story the well-known war correspondent describes a remarkable series of coincidences which led up to the reunion of two old friends under strange circumstances. THINK it will be admitted that, whilst truth is often stranger than fiction, “coincidence” is frequently more remarkable than either, and the more so as it usually completely baffles one’s reasoning pgwers. I remember once at Christmas-time, in a country house which was reputed to be haunted, the conver- sation after dinner one evening turned on this subject, when, with one step, as it were, we found ourselves discussing the supernatural. A famous scientist who was present calmly and deliberately expressed his opinion that people have been condemned to death on far less evidence than there is on all sides to warrant the belief in a connection between the visible and the invisible worlds. This sententious theory, coming, as it did, from so distinguished a man, impressed me personally very consider- ably at the time, although I am not naturally superstitious ; and since then I have often been reminded of it, for during the course of my wanderings round the world in out-of-the-way places I have had experience of coincidences which have quite astounded me—as, for in- stance, the incident I am about to relate. It happened many years ago, but the impres- sion it made on my mind at the time remains as vivid as though it had occurred but yesterday. It was, in fact, something more than a mere coincidence—it was a coincidence within a coincidence, if it can be so described, therefore all the more remarkable, as will be seen. During the Bechuanaland Expedition in South Africa in 1884-5, the Field Force, whilst preparing to advance into Stellaland, was encamped near the town of Barkly West, on the Vaal river. I was serving as a trooper in the mounted infantry regiment known as “Methuen’s Horse,” having enlisted for journal- istic purposes, and I therefore enjoyed certain privileges and liberty not usually granted to the rank and file. It came about thus that, whilst one day in the town, I was introduced to Cecil Rhodes, who was then a young man like myself and comparatively unknown. In a short time we became great friends and went about a good deal together. Johannesburg in those days did not exist, and the whole of the future of South Africa seemed to be bound up in the diamond fields, and Kimberley was therefore humming with life and prosperity and was the industrial centre of the Colony. I was naturally most eager to visit the famous mushroom city, so when Rhodes one day invited me to accompany him on his return to the home he had made for himself there, I was delighted to accept his invitation. I experienced no difficulty in obtaining a short leave of absence from camp, and after dining with my friend at the so-called “hotel” in Barkly we set off on our journey just as evening was coming on, this being the best time of the day for travelling in South Africa The railway in those days did not go farther than Orange River station, so the only way of reaching Kimberley was either by

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THE LONG ARM cart or wagon or on horseback. Rhodes had his own Cape cart, so in this we drove together, as I had not been permitted to take my troop- horse with me from camp. A Cape cart is not unlike an ordinary buggy with a large hood, and is usually drawn by a pair of horses, although four are often used also. We were quite alone, as Rhodes had no servant with him, so I had every opportunity for getting to know and like him better. A more sym- pathetic or genial travelling companion I never wish to meet, nor have I ever met his equal for coolness and resource. It makes me smile even tow when I recollect how crammed full of incidents was that night’s drive. It was pitch- dark when we started, and as the road, or rather track, went across a perfectly barren plain, it was no easy matter to keep on it, the result being that we were continually losing our way, and on several of these occasions the light cart we were in was bodily overturned through bumping up against rocks or running into thé deep ruts which were practically the only indication of the whereabouts of the road. These little contretemps, however, did not in the least affect the equanimity of my com- panion, who was bubbling over with good humour, and treated each of these upsets as quite a good joke, and part and parcel of the usual accompani- ments of the drive—to such an extent, in fact, as to inspire one with the utmost confidence in his ability to get out of all difficulties. Fortunately the horses, though very high-spirited, were well trained, and _ instinctively pulled up if they felt the cart was about to turn over, so the experience, though certainly exciting, was fortunately not sup- plemented by any unto- ward accident. On the last of these occasions, and just as the lights of our destination came in sight, whilst I was helping him to put our vehicle the right way up again—we had narrowly escaped being run down by an ox- ° svagon, and had only avoided the collision by driving up a bank and turning completely over on the other side of it— when suddenly, apropos of nothing, apparently, Rhodes remarked, as though something had brought it to bis mind; OF COINCIDENCE. 287 “ How curious it is, the number of old school or college friends one is continually running across out in these parts! Men I have not met for years, and whom I should never have dreamed of seeing in South Africa, are con- stantly turning up in the most unexpected places, and more often than not under the . most peculiar conditions.” Not knowing to what he was referring at that particular moment, I could but reply that it was indeed strange, but that I personally had not yet met anyone I had known before coming out. The subject then dropped as casually as it had arisen. We reached Kimberley without further incident, and after a good night’s rest in a real bed—a welcome change after weeks of rough camp life—I started off the next morning, sketch- book in hand, to do the sights of the diamond city, for in those days there was much to see. On my way back to meet my host at the club for lunch I was making my way along a crowded side-street when, to my surprise, as I was about to make a few jottings of the busy scene around me, I saw on a sign hung over the door of a small store the name of an old school “CHE HORSES WERE WELL TRAINED, AND INSTINCTIVELY PULLED UP IF THEY FELT THE CART WAS ABOUT TO TURN OVER.’ friend I had not met for several years. It was so uncommon a name that it arrested my atten- tion at once, and I immediately recollected the irrelevant remark of Rhodes on the previous evening. Coming so soon after, it struck me as being quite a coincidence, for this was almost the last man I expected to find in Kimberley, of all places, and least of all as the proprietor of a small “dry-goods” store. However, I was

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288 THE WIDE WORLD delighted to have the opportunity to renew the old friendship, so without hesitation I walked in the shop and asked a man who was sitting on the counter smoking a pipe if I could speak to the ‘ boss.” “Speak right away,” he replied, with a | strong American | accent, “for he’s straight in front of you, and this is my show.” “What! You don't mean to say you are X—— ?” said I. “Why not?” he re- plied, in astonishment. “ But you are surely not Reggie, who used to be at school with me, who was the cap- tain of our eleven, and who was my greatest chum ?” “Well, that may be,” said he. But who are you, anyway, and what's all this about?” I told him my name and what had brought me into his shop, but that failed to enlighten him, for he was not the man I expected to find after all—the fact of his having exactly the same uncommon name as my old friend being but part of the coinci- dence —a fact which appealed to him very strangely, so much so that he even expressed his annoyance — that there should be some- one else of his mame anywhere, as he apparently considered he had the right to a monopoly of it. As I left him he called out, laughingly, “Say, if you ever come across your friend with my name, you had better tell him it’s about time he changed it”; to which I replied in the same strain that if I ever met him I would give the message, but as it was extremely un- likely we should see each other for many years he had better reconcile himself to sharing it with him for the present. Over lunch T narrated my curious experience, and Rhodes and other men who were present were much impressed by it, though it was ee “} WAS ALOUT TO MAKE A FEW JOTTINGS OF 1HE BUSY SCENE AROUND ME,” MAGAZINE. generally put down to “ mere chance, after all,” and “the sort of thing that did happen now and again.” The calls of military duty prevented my remaining in Kimber- ley su long as I should have liked, and as I had only a short leave of absence it was im- perative for me _ to think of getting back to camp that day. As there appeared no chance of anyone we knew driving me back to Barkly West, Rhodes being unex- pectedly unable to leave Kimberley again for the moment, I had no choice but to ride. There was no help for it, but my host kindly lent me a horse, one of his own—a splendid- looking animal, and very different to our scraggy troop-horses — so 1 should do the journey under pleasant conditions, although alone. The weather had been very threat- ening all the morning, and during the after- noon there were un- mistakable signs of the approach of a_ big storm. I waited as long as I could in the hope of it passing over be- fore I started, as I knew there was no chance of getting any shelter on the road if I were caught in it, but at last it was getting so late that I had to make a move or risk serious trouble if I overstayed my leave from camp. Evening was close at hand —dark and murky, with an ominous rumble of distant thunder—as I galloped out of the town, anxious to cover as much ground as possible before night came on, and with it the rain. I had been warned that the outskirts of the place were infested with ruffians, the usual scum of a big mining camp, who would not hesitate at much after dark for the chance of getting hold of such a horse as I was riding, so I did not intend to dally by the way, and was soon well on

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THE LONG ARM the road and out on the bare, open plain, going as fast as my horse could carry me. The storm meanwhile was coming up rapidly, like a black wall of cloud behind me, although there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. Then there was a curious roar in the distance, like an express train coming along, and suddenly, without the slightest warning, I found myself enveloped in a dense cloud of sand and dust, which was whirling along at the terrific speed of a tornado. The shock was so unexpected and sudden as to almost blow my horse off his feet. In an instant all was darkness and gloom, which was only illumined by almost incessant flashes of lightning ; the thunder crashed overhead, and then it seemed as though a waterspout had burst, for the rain and hail came down in one solid sheet, and in a few seconds I was com- pletely drenched to the skin. My horse, evidently frightened out of its wits, shook its head viciously, got the bit between its teeth, and dashed off wildly -—-com- pletely out of control. It was useless to at- tempt to stop him— the wet reins slipped through my hands— so there was nothing for it but to let him go, and trust to Pro- vidence that he did not stumble or fall in some hole, and so throw me. For several minutes this mad gallop con- tinued, but over the rocky ground the pace soon began to tell, and I was just getting him in hand again when, to my surprise, I managed to distinguish just ahead of me_ the tuins of a large farm- house ; and so, with- out hesitation, I headed him for it, and succeeded in pulling him up as we reached it. Although it was a complete ruin, I saw that there was still sufficient of the roof left to afford some slight shelter—anything being acceptable under the circumstances. Of door or windows there was nothing but the broken-down openings Vol. xvii.—37, “(A HORSEMAN APPEAKED AT THE RUINED DOOKWAY.” OF COINCIDENCE. 289 in the wall left; so through one of these, and over the heap of rubble that encumbered the interior, I managed to drag my panting steed, and then, huddled alongside him under the small . remaining portion of roof, I waited events, or, rather, for the storm to subside. It was not much of a shelter, but it was nevertheless very acceptable, and as I lit my pipe I felt like con- gratulating myself on my luck. The only serious question now was how long would I have to remain there, as the storm continued with unabated violence and it was by this time quite dark. Suddenly my ears caught the sound of a horse galloping towards the place ; someone had evidently seen me light my pipe and was also seeking shelter. I remembered what I had heard of the horse-thieves round about the dis- trict, so felt in my hip-pocket to make sure I had my ** Der- ringer” in readiness. In a few seconds a horseman appeared at the ruined door- way, and, dismount- ing, tried to light a match to help him to find his way in, but it was impossible to keep it alight in such a wind, so after another _ ineffectual attempt he called out, ‘Whoever you are in there, you might be a friend and show us a light, or I shall break my horse’s legs.” It was not an un- pleasant voice, so I immediately com- plied, sheltering the light with my hand so as to be able to see him without his seeing me, and he pulled his animal in- side and led it up to the corner where I was sheltering. As he was doing so I had an opportunity to cast a glance over him. He was an enormous fellow, in the prime of life, and a splendid specimen of humanity; but the storm had given him so rough and unkempt an appearance that he looked a very tough and ugly customer indeed. He had evidently come some distance,

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290 THE for his horse, which was a very poor-looking brute, was quite done up. I remember it occurred to me that if the man was bent on mischief, and suddenly took a fancy to my splendid mount in exchange for his own, I should have but little to say in the matter physically, unless I was very sharp about it with my revolver —al- though I was pretty strong in those days—so I instinctively edged away as far from him as_ possible, so as to be ready for any emergency. But the stranger evidently desired to be affable, for without looking towards me _ he began making some casual re- marks about the storm, and how fortunate it was to have found even any shelter at all in such a country, to all of which I replied in mono- syllables, as I did not like his look at all and did not know what his game might be. He then took out his pipe and pro- ceeded leisurely to fill it. Having done so with much deliberation — he was evidently a man of method—he then pro- duced a match and struck it on his boot. As he was in the act of holding the light up to his pipe he looked at me either purposely or by accident. He gave an exclamation of surprise, then held the light close in front of me, at the same time peering under it into my face, and then suddenly exclaimed in astonishment, “Great Scot! Why, it’s my old chum, Julius Price !” It may be imagined how I was taken aback, for I had not recognised in him anyone I had ever met before, so all I could ejaculate was: “You have the advantage of me. I have “WE HELD THE LIGHT CLOSE IN FRONT OF ME.” WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. not the faintest recollection of you. What is your name, since you appear to know mine so well?” Then, to my utter amazement, he told me who he was—the very man whose name I had fancied I had seen written over the store in Kimberley—the old school friend I had lost sight of for years ! It is needless to add how delighted I was to meet him again, apart from the encounter being under such remarkable condi- tions, and when I told him of the extraordinary con- catenation of coin- cidences I had experienced that day, and which had led up to our meeting, he was absolutely dumb- founded. When we compared notes and realized by what strange chance we had got miles off the track and gravita- ted as it were together in this tuined cottage after a separation of so many years, the incident, or rather adventure, assumed quite an uncanny aspect ; moreover, what made it all appear still niore remarkable was the fact of his having instantly recognised me, in spite of my being in uniform and also wearing a beard, a very complete disguise at any time, as will be admitted. This was not‘all, however, and the incident was Curious, to say the least of it, right up to the very end, for as we sat smoking our pipes he told me that it was by the merest chance that he was in that part of the country. He had spent many years in Natal and.was on his way back to England wh -n he was unexpectedly obliged to’ go to Kimberley on business, and that he was then on his way up there for the first time!

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HUNTING THE GREAT SEA-SLUG. By D. W. O. Facan. A rrost interesting and instructive article concerning a trade which is practically unknown in this country—the collection of the “béche-de-mer,” or giant sea-slug. The life is hard and the dangers that menace the fisherman are many, yet the industry, carried on as it is far from civilization, offers possibilities of adventure which give it a strange fascination to the traders engaged in it. HERE is a fleet of little vessels, schooner-rigged for the most part, that ply up and down the tropic waters of the South Pacific, touching at this little-known island or at that for water or provisions, and calling now and again at some port to dispose of the merchandise they have collected in their wanderings. These are not pearlers, or the boats which go after “shell.” Neither can they be classed among the vessels of the regular South Sea traders, who confine themselves to obtaining and carrying cargoes of copra, cocoanut-oil, fruit, and general island pro- duce. They are the craft engaged in the béche- | de-mer trade, and the | men who man and sail them have their busi- ness in the wide spaces of the great deep. By lonely stretches of coral reef, where the circling rocks of solitary atolls ii tise a foot or two above ‘—— seas of the Eastern Hemisphere, it must not be thought that the location of the creature is confined to these seas ; on the contrary, it has a wide geographical range, and one or other of the species are» be found in varying quantities on all coasts within the limits of the Tropics. But, with the exception of the Californian coast, whence a small quantity is exported, the trade is unknown in the Western Hemisphere. It is in China, with its teeming millions of peoples of strange gastronomic taste, that the béche-de-mer fishers find a market for their wares, and the whole of the world’s output is consumed in that coun- try. It forms a favourite article of diet with the well-to-do Chinese, and to it are ascribed medicinal properties ) that. make it eagerly _ sought after. Its use is | confined to people of _ the moneyed classes, and it is only the rich merchants and epi- Pete THE TIT-FISH—IT ATTAINS A LENGTH OF SOME EIGHTREN - the brimming flood of RE, UimN OU artass «vers of soe minet* eurean mandarins who the vast Pacific, on A TON. can afford to tickle their the shores of lonely islets where the foot of man seldom treads, they gather their strange wares and_ bring them in due course to the markets of the world. Sea-slug, trepang, baish-di-mar (which last | ~~ : is colloquial French as | spoken in the islands), | all three designations mean the same thing ac- cording to the locality in which you happen to find yourself at the time. What it is and how ob. tained I will try to make | clear in the following pages. Although the collec- tion of and the trade in béche-de-mer is almost entirely confined to the THE BLACK-FISH, WHICH FETCHES FROM TWENTY TO THIRTY POUNDS A TON, palates with choice dishes prepared from the finer and more expensive varieties. ‘There are four known varieties of the fish, as it is called—though it is not a fish, but a slug, pure and simple, which feeds on and plays havoc with the flowers and vegetables in Old Neptune’s sea - gardens. These four varieties are the pink-fish, the tit-fish, the black-fish, and the red. Of these the pink, or flesh - coloured, is con- fined to the islands and coasts of the East Indies and the Indian Archipe- lago, and reference will

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THE COAST OF be made to it later on. At present we will confine ourselves to those species found in the South Seas. The first and most valuable of these is the tit-fish. In shape it exactly resembles the large black slug, common in springtime in English gardens ; it is also similar in colour, being black on the back and of a dead white underneath. It possesses a peculiarity, however, serving to distinguish it from the black-fish, with which it is otherwise identical, in the form of two nipples, one on either side of the back near the head. It is about eighteen inches long, and its width is from four to six inches at its broadest part. The fish is found adhering to the rock or sand beneath the water of the shallow lagoons and pools left exposed as the tide recedes from coral bank or island coast. As the tide goes out many miles of reef are laid bare, and here the fish-gatherers are landed from the vessels’ boats. Wading in the shallow pools, they feel for the fish with their bare feet, stooping beneath the water to dislodge them when found ; they throw them on to the dry rocks in heaps, ready for collection as the boats return on the incoming tide to pick up the fish and take the gatherers aboard the vessel, which during the work either rides at anchor near by or stands off and on in the neighbourhood. Natives alone are employed in the actual work of gathering the fish, as the sweltering heat from the blazing sun, pouring down on the shadeless rocks in perpendicular rays, would quickly spell death to a white man. THE WIDE WORLD NEW GUINEA—THE RISING MAGAZINE. TIDE HAS COVERED THE REE? WHERE. THE MEN WORK. {Phote.~ The work is attended with many dangers. Water-snakes lurk in the pools for unwary feet, and the giant clam gapes with open shell, three feet and more across. Woe betide the luckless man who unwittingly thrusts an arm or foot into those terrible jaws! The shell snaps shut with S RETURNING TO THE SCHOONER OFF THE REEF, ANCHORED (Photo,

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, HUNTING THE GREAT SEA-SLUG. 293 the jar of a steel lion-trap, and nothing short of a charge of dynamite will. cause the great mollusc to relinquish his grip. Two alternatives are presented—either the man must suffer amputation of the captured limb as best he can, or, failing that, resign himself to drowning as the returning tide covers him. Sharks, too, swarm around the reefs, and, though the watching boats guard against the danger as much as possible, many of the workers are taken by these sea-tigers. But more to be feared than all these, and the most dreaded enemy of them all, is the huge octopus, with tentacles stretching over twenty feet. Lurking in weed-grown corners of “THE MOST DREADED ENEMY OF THEM ALL IS THR HUGE OCTOPUS, ILURKING IN WEED-GKOWN CORNERS.” the lagoons, he shoots out a long, rubber-like arm and quickly drags his victim beneath the surface, to be devoured at leisure. Where it is known that a lagoon is infested with octopi, two or three dynamite cartridges are thrown in, when the resultant explosion effectually disposes of them. But as the explosion, while ridding the water of dangers, at the same time destroys quantities of the jelly- like béche-de-mer, the plan is only adopted where unavoidable. Though found on all coasts of the tropic South Seas, from Kermadec to farthest Yap, there are yet places where the fish are more plentiful than in others. Chief among these are the group of Solomon Islands, with the great Carteret coral reef, adjacent to the island of Maylata. Here, at low tide, reefs of great extent are laid bare, and these form a favourite fishing ground. The fish, when collected, are taken as quickly as possible to stations established on some con- venient island, where they are thrown into large copper boilers to be parbviled in sea water. On removal from the boilers the fish are split open, cleaned, fire- dried, and smoked, losing weight considerably in the process—so much so that a twenty- inch fish, weighing, perhaps, ten pounds in its natural state, shrinks when prepared for market to four or five inches and weighs no more than two pounds. Wien the process is complete the fish, now perfectly hard and dry, are stored under cover until such time asa full cargo has been collected, when they are loaded in bulk in the vessel’s hold and taken either to Melbourne, Sydney, Auck- land, or ‘Brisbane, for sale to the China merchants in those places. These two varieties, the tit-fish and the black fish, are the most valuable of those found in the South Seas, the prices ranging from twenty to thirty pounds per ton for the latter, and as high as one hundred and fifty pounds for the former. ‘The red-fish seems to be of a different species, and, so far as is known, is only met with in the South Pacific. In shape it more nearly resembles a gigantic cater- pillar than anything else, often attaining a length of over two feet, with a diameter of six or eight inches. Unlike those of the other varieties, which seem to be as nearly inanimate as possible, it is endowed with the means of locomotion, having a series of corrugations on its under surface which serve it in place of feet, and by means of which it crawls over the surface of the rocks or sand at a fairly rapid rate. As it goes it presents the appearance of a large red German

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294 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sausage, magically endowed with means of locomotion. This fish 1s collected and cured in the same manner as the more valuable kinds, but the price for which it sells is far less, being but twelve to fifteen pounds per ton. The vessels, as a rule, are of small tonnage, ranging from fifty to a hundred tons register, and, in addition to the captain, carry a crew of eight or ten white men, besides native fish- | gatherers to the number of fifteen or twenty. The Europeans take no part in the work of the cruise other than that entailed in sailing the vessel, boats, etc., but an armed crew—large in relation to the vessel’s size—is necessary to pre- vent treachery and mutiny on the part of the natives carried, no less than to defend the ship from attack by the fierce and hostile inhabitants of some of the coasts visited. Scarce a year passes but news is brought of the massacre of the crews of one or more vessels engaged in the island and béche-de-mer trades at some one of those islands whose inhabitants are of the intractable and ferocious Papuan race. These deplorable in- cidents are not now, of course, of such frequent occurrence as they were twenty or thirty years ago. But although the South Pacific is well policed by British cruisers and other war- ships, and although quick, stern punishment is usually meted out, sull it seems impossible to win the wilder in- habitants of some of the islands, such as those of the New He- brides and Solomon groups, from their native savagery. Be- fore engaging in the béche-de-mer trade it is necessary to register one’s vessel in Levuka, Fiji, and there to obtain from the High Com- missioner of the Pacific, who holds his court in that town, and whose jurisdiction extends over all the British islands north and south of the Equator, a licence to hire and employ natives. A trader neglecting to comply with this regula- THE RED-PISH—“IT RESEMBLES A GIGANTIC CATERPILLAR, OFTEN ATTAINING A LENGTH OF OVEK TWO FEET." tion would quickly find a cruiser on his heels, and, when captured, his vessel would be con- fiscated and himself liable to imprisonment. The rate of wage paid to the natives employed is small, and in many instances is paid in kind, so to speak—powder, beads, tomahawks, cloth, etc, taking the place of current coin. The profits of the trade are , large, and a trader own- ing and sailing his vessel may-in a few years make a tidy competency and re- tire to settle down ashore. Béche-de-mer, or tre- pang as it is called here and throughout China and the East Indies, is found on all the coasts of the Malay Peninsula, Indo-China, the Dutch East Indies, Philippine Islands, Borneo, New Guinea, and on all the islands of Malaya and Melanesia. The trade in these seas is in the hands of the Malays, who find their markets in Singapore and Hong-Kong. Many thousands find employ- ment in the trepang fishery, and the men engaged in it are spoken of and known as “ orang-louts ” (literally, men of the sea), as distinguishing them from the landward folk. These orang-louts form a race apart. For thousands of years their sires have been fisher- men and coast-dwellers. They intermarry only amongst their own people, and hold them- selves aloof from the other inhabitants as far as possible. Constantly migratory in their habits, they move from one coast to another, engaging in no other manner of work than fishing, trepang gathering, and the col- lection of the edible birds’-nests so highly prized by the Chinese. Of them it may al- most be said they are born, live, and die on salt water ; for, if their dwelling is not actually afloat, their houses cannot be said to be ashore, being built on platforms supported on piles and jutting out from the banks over the waters of some one of the many rivers flowing through the mangrove swamps of the Malayan shores. ‘The pink-fish is_confined almost exclusively

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HUNTING THE TM CURIOUS HOUSE-BOATS OF THE OKASG*LOUIS, THE MALAY to those seas north of the Equator. It is found on the islands of the Indian Archipelago, on the Burmese and Siamese coasts, on the Anda- man and Merguay islands, ete. This is the most valuable of all the varieties of béche-de-mer, for the dried and prepared article finds a ready sale at prices ranging as high as one hundred and sixty or one hundred and seventy pounds per ton. In shape it exactly resembles the tit-fish already described, having similar nipples, and differing from it only in its colour, which is of a delicate shade of flesh-pink. Trepang fishing, or gathering, in these waters is a Government monopoly of the Indian Empire, and the head-quarters of the trade are at Ran- goon, where the yearly right of collecting trepang on all coasts within his jurisdiction is sold to the highest bidder at public auction by the Fisheries Commissioner, the bidding for the coveted right sometimes running up well into six figures. The dried trepang of the pink variety is eagerly bought up by the wealthy Chinese of the highest class ; very little of it finds its way to the tables of anyone below the rank of Viceroy or Governor of a province. When cooked, the fish bears a strong resem- blance toa thick isinglass jelly strongly flavoured with phosphorus, and herein lies its supposed medicinal and invigorating value. Chinese medicos assert that by the con- sumption of trepang phosphorus is introduced into the system in a manner perfectly innocuous and, at the same time, most efficacious. Seeing that trepang has formed an article of diet with the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire for, maybe, four thousand years, it must be con- ceded that the doctors have had ample time to prove the truth or fallacy of their assertion. Béche-de-mer, though of the less valuable soits, is to be found in quantities in the West GREAT SEA-SLUG. 205 India Islands, more especially on the reefs of the Caribbean Sea, on the Bahama cays, and on all the shores of tropic America. It does not appear, however, that the inhabi- tants make any use of it, either as an article of food or of commerce. The negroes of the West Indies are, doubtless, ignorant of its value in either capacity, but this want of knowledge can hardly be shared by the white inhabitants. The South Sea trader, and especially the seeker after béche-de-mer, fullows his calling in strange seas, away from the better-known highways of commerce. He sees and has dealings with the peoples of the lonely isles. It is a life not without its charm, full of that romance with which men delight to clothe vesoe the unknown, and the added spice of danger From a} THE SEA. (Photo. and risk commends it to the adventurous. Although fast vanishing before the inroads of commerce and the Cook’s ‘Tours of this emi- nently utilitarian age, something of the glamour of those days when the South Pacific was still a mare incognitum surrounds even now these islands of the summer seas and their inhabitants. Though on many of the coasts touched at the natives are hostile and treacherous, this cannot, however, be said of the majority of the South Sea islands. Wherever men of the true Polynesian race are found, the white man, be he trader or traveller, is always sure of a hearty welcome and kindly hospitality. A BECHE-DE-MER STATION IN THE GILNKERT ISLANDS, From a Photo,

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A MOTOR-CAR HOLD-UP. By We. MacLeop RAINE. In our last issue appeared a description of a unique buffalo hunt organized some time ago in Oklahoma. Here is the sequel to it—an occurrence a!so unique in its way. A band of masked brigands endeavoured to hold up the motor-car conveying the day's takings to the bank, and a most exciting battle ensued. Mw MONG the sixty-five thousand people MA D) who came to the buffalo hunt de- AN \e scribed in the last issue of THE eS } Wipe WorLp Macazine were many = “bad” men and desperadoes. They were debarred from gambling, in spite of the fact that the ranch-owners had been offered large sums for the privilege of establishing devices of this sort for the single day of the celebration ; neither was any liquor allowed to be sold. Two hundred special deputy-sheriffs were present to maintain order, if need be, and so the “ touzhs ” drew off to one side and began to show bad blood because the public were protected from their evil designs. From start to finish thé pro- gramme of the festival was exceedingly thrilling, but the various knots of “bad” men who were grouped together found a little side-show event that occurred near the finish more exciting than anything else. This was nothing less than the counting of the money taken in during the day at the grand starid. ‘The cash was poured on to blan- kets and counted in the open, and while it was being handled a great crowd gathered to watch the cashiers at work. Among those who gazed most steadily was a knot of scowling men, who watched the sacking of the money with jealous eyes that missed nothing. ‘hey saw the precious hoard poured into ten sacks and heard the word passed round that the total amounted to forty thousand dollars. They saw, too, the five or six plainsmen whose steady eyes met their own. No weapon was in sight, but the “bad” men knew these cowboys were armed and prepared to defend the treasure to the death. It occurred to George L. Miller, one of the ranch-owners, that the lawless, shifty-eyed fellows watching the money. -counting —among whom he recognised a notorious half-breed known as “Pale Face Charlie ”—were not studying affairs so intently merely out of curiosity. This MR. GEORGE 1. MILLER, OWNERS WHO FIGURE IN THE FXCITING EXPERI- ENCE HERE RELATED. From a Photo. by Swearingen. opinion was confirmed a little later, when he was secretly warned by a cow-puncher who had overheard a plot to hold up the train on which the money was to be taken to Ponca City. Immediately young Miller changed his ‘plans. If the train was going to be held up, he detet- mined that the money should not be on the train. Quietly he leaned over and whispered a word to his friend, Dr. H. E. Thomas, of Chicago. Presently Thomas got up and sauntered out of the tent. A moment later he might have been seen whispering to an alert, hard-eyed young Hercules—MacGowan, his chauffeur —who immediately disappeared in the crowd. But the beadlike eyes of Pale Face Charlie had watched the proceedings, and gathered something of their meaning. Instantly he got together half- a-dozen accomplices, and they saddled their horses and rode away into the darkness, for night had fallen several hours ago. An hour later MacGowan’s practised hand brought his master’s “White” automobile up to the spot where the money - checking was being done, and the Millers immedi- ately began passing the sacks into the machine. Dr. Thomas took a seat beside the chauffeur, while George I. Miller and his friend, W. G. Maurice, occupied the back seats. All were heavily armed. The big “White” car dashed away across the dark plains toward Ponca City. It was already an hour past midnight, and Miller argued that they would have a clear run to Ponca. Any robbers lying in wait for them would long since have given up any hopes of their coming. There was but little talking on the part of the four men in the car. Their alert eyes peered into the darkness and took stock of every shrub and bush that loomed out of the darkness into sight. With the exception of the chauffeur, each man was armed with a repeating rifle and revolvers, and their fingers never wandered far ONK OF THR RANCH:

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A MOTOR-CAR HOLD-UP. 297 From a} DR. H. E, THOMAS. F from the triggers during that wild ride over the moonlit plain. For four miles everything went well—and then something happened. Near Cowskin Creek the road makes a wide detour to reach the ford. As the machine slowly made its way down the incline a horse neighed in front and to one side of them. “What's that?” whispered Dr. Thomas. “Sounds like a horse,” answered young Miller. “ Better put on more speed, MacGowan.” “Can't,” replied MacGowan, tersely. ‘“ Road is too bad and sandy here.” ) MR. W. G. MAURICR. (Photo. Another moment and a sharp cry rang out. “Halt!” shouted a hoarse voice. At the same instant several men rode out from a clump of willows at the edge of the creek. They were masked with handkerchiefs in which eye-holes had been roughly cut. “Put on your power, MacGowan,” ordered Miller, sharply, and flung his rifle to his shoulder. His Winchester cracked, and in answer there came a volley from the outlaws that cut the leaves and twigs above the heads of those in the machine. THE MOTOR-CAR THAT CARRIED THE MONEY, From a Photo.

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298 THE WIDE MacGowan meanwhile was working desper- ately to drive his “White” forward faster. At high speed he shot past the dim figures of the outlaws, now emerging from the hollows. Then the big car lurched to one side, recovered itself, and splashed into the water. ‘The chauffeur handled it like a hero under a continual hail of bullets, and with a deft turn drove the auto- mobile up the steep road on the other side of the ford. Still firing furiously, the enraged brigands urged their bronchos into the water in pursuit. Thomas, Maurice, and Mil- ler fired down in the direction of the sound, but with what success they could not tell. The darkness was Stygian, but the in- termittént cracking of the rifles con- tinued irregularly during the long climb up the hill from the ford. For- tunately for the motorists, the road here was narrow and bounded at the sides by steep banks, so that the desperadoes were compelled tofollow the road instead of flanking them. Here Pale Face Charlie had made a great tactical error. If half his force had been hid- den in the brush above the narrow road he might have ambushed the party with a much greater chance of success. As the matter stood now it was a fair field and no favour—rifles against rifles, honest men against outlaws, motor-car against horseflesh. The only disparity was in numbers, and here the bandits had all the best of it. But the darkness helped the party attacked, in that it made any accuracy of aim impossible. So steady a fire was kept up by Miller and his friends that the robbers dared not approach too close to the car in the narrow, gulch-like road. WORLD “THE BRIGANDS URGED THEIR BRONCHOS INTO THE WATER.” MAGAZINE. They kept pretty near, however, waiting for the road to broaden so that they might attack from the cover of the underbrush beside it. Mean- while they continued firing at the dark mass of the car in front of them, hoping to kill its occupants or disable the engine. “Tf we reach the level we shall be all right,” said Dr. Thomas, in a lull of the firing. “You bet we shall, unless they hit the machine first,” said MacGowan, whose great anxiety was principally for his engine. “The danger will be where the road comes out of the gulch. They’ll scatter and try to get us from the cover of the mes- quite,” put in Mil- ler, as he rapidly ejected the empty shells from his rifle. As Miller had foreseen, the criti- cal point came where the valley opened from the gulch. As soon as the robbers cleared this point they scattered for cover, riding recklessly along the skirts of the valley about a hundred yards from the road. ‘Their work began to tell at once. The rifle in the hand of Maurice was struck by a bul- let, and a minute later the speed re- gulator was shot clean off the car. The bandits were hemming the motorists in closer and closer, until they began to cut off the way in front. “Hadn't we better edge the car into the brush and make a standing fight of it?” suggested Maurice. Just then MacGowan gave a little exultant shout. ‘We've hit the level road,” he said. “ Now watch her.” Instantly the powerful car bounded forward with a jump, gathering speed every instant.

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A MOTOR-CAR HOLD-UP. 299 “UME POWEKFUL CAR FOUNDED FUKWAKD.” With a triumphant whirr it whizzed past the dim forms on horseback that were closing in on it, firing as they came. ‘Trees and bushes fairly seemed to fly past. The- outlaws, though they cursed at their horses, and urged them forward desperately, yet fell rapidly to the rear. Soon the echo of their last shots died away, and the racing automobile passed into the silence of the night. “Whew! That was warm while it lasted !” laughed Miller. “T really thought they had us headed off just after we came out of the gully,” said Dr. Thomas, as he laid down his smoking rifle. “ CAll’s well that ends well,’” laughed Maurice. The big car bowled into Ponca without _ further adventure in the small hours of the morning. Here the money was taken to the house of a friend of Miller and kept under guard till morning ; then it was transferred to the bank. The bank building, however, was in process of being moved, and only the strong- room remained where it had been. Into this the money was put, and for forty-eight hours armed guards paced up and down before it. Then the strong-room was removed to its proper place in the bank, and the money that had come so near being captured was at last safe. THE BANK BUILDING TO WHICH THE MONEY WAS TRANSFEKKEL—IT WAS THEN IN PROCESS OF BEING MOVED, From a Photo.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS: A Budget of Marine Romances. By D. H. Potter anp H. A. HamILton. Another instalment of this fascinating record of modern sea adventure—compiled with the assistance of Lloyd’s and the leading shipping companies—-which has proved conclusively that even in these prosaic days of mammoth steamships and submarine cables there are still excitement and romance in plenty to be found in the life of the merchant mariner. SHE first narrative we have to con- sider this month is of a very unusual Fa character —the story of an unfor- Me EW) tunate vessel which, having arrived AS! Ss B -—— within twelve hours’ sail of her home port, after a most prosperous voyage, inet with disaster swift and complete. Thereafter she became a helpless derelict, adrift in the vast Pacific, while her crew endured terrible suffer- ings. ‘The story \s told by Mr. 1). H. Potter, the vessel’s mate, now an officer of the White Star Line. The day was December the 27th, 1895. The last of the Ladrones Islands was now astern, and we were sailing along with a favorable wind, bound for Yokohama, which port we hoped to make in another eight or ten days. The Esmer- alda, of which I was mate, was a tight little craft of about a hundred and thirty tons burden, owned and com- manded by Captain J. J. Har- rison, a well-known resident of Yokohama. For the past month we had been trading with the natives of the various islands which comprise the Ladrones. Our cruise had been very pleasant and inter- esting, but on the whole I was not, sorry to see the last of Pagan, as the place of our final call was named. The crew consisted of the captain and mate, both English and hailing from Lancashire; a Danish second mate, a young Swedish-American who acted as cabin-boy, six Japanese sailors, and a Chinese cook. Light variable winds and pleasant weather were experienced until the morning of January 6th ; then, when within twelve hours’ sail of Yokohama Heads, the wind began to freshen, and at 10 a.m. was blowing a whole gale, accom- panied with a high, confused sea, which tumbled the vessel about most uncomfortably. About THE AUTHOR, MR. D. H. POTTER, WHO WAS MATE OF THE “ESMERALDA " ADVENTUKE HAPPENED. Fiona Piola by.A.& GO. Tayler, Manchestee, — DUS 11 a.m., in the midst of a fierce squall, a huge sea struck us with great violence, and caused the ship to lurch so heavily that the foremast sprung. A few more rolls and it broke off by the board, but the forestay and jumper - stay which connected it to the main-topmast pre- vented it from going overboard. We made desperate efforts to secure it, but they proved futile; it was too difficult and dangerous an undertaking, the mast being hurled from one side to the other at every roll. Meanwhile the heavy jerks on the jumper- stay endangered the mainmast, but nothing could be done to ease the strain, as the stay was secured to the main-topmast head by means of a large iron shackle, which under the circumstances it was impos- sible to open. An attempt was made, however, but just as the man began to climb up a tackle leading to the mast- head the foremast went over- board and in its fall broke off the main -topmast, which crashed through the hatch. The lower mast was also split, and at the same instant down came the main gaff and boom. The end of the latter broke off, and, striking the wheel, smashed it to pieces. Just as the Loom fell the captain was stooping to pass underneath, and it pinned him to the deck, fortunately its fall was temporarily arrested, and we were able to extricate him from his perilous posi- tion before the whole weight came upon him. As quickly as possible we set to work to cut the wreckage clear of the crippled ship. Every moment was of value, for the foremast lay along- side, and was bumping so violently that we were afraid it would stove in the ship’s side. The mainmast was also cut away, as with every roll the upper portion threatened to snap off, and we were afraid it might crash through the deck. The first thing we did after getting clear of the wreckage was to patch up the broken hatches AT THE TIME THIS

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and the gaping holes in the deck where the masts had stood in order to pre: vent the water, which was con- tinually rushing across the deck, from finding its way into the hold. This done, the spars we had saved were — securely lashed to the bulwarks, and a sea - anchor rigged and launched — over the bows tokeep the schooner’s head to sea. Nothing more could be done that day, for it was impossible to rig up jury- masts until the weather moder- ated. Next morning the wind calmed sufficiently to allow us to set up a jury-fore- mast, which we rigged with a small yard and a square - sail roughly made to suit the occa- sion. For the present, however, no benefit was derived from this makeshift sail, as no sooner was the mast erected than the wind commenced to blow hard again from the westward, and for the whole week following we had a succession of heavy westerly gales, accompanied with hail and snow squalls. The captain decided, as a measure of precaution, to put everyone on half rations, there being only about a week’s provisions remaining on board. These consisted of two piculs of rice, one small bag of flour, a quantity of Indian corn which had been used for chicken’s food, a few cans of preserved meats, and a box of some kind of nuts, resembling shelled pea- nuts. By mutual consent on the part of the Europeans and Japanese the rice was set apart for the cook and sailors, and the flour retained “VT PINNED HIM TO THE DECK. HIGH SEAS. 301 for the cabin. We did not mind the half rations at first, as we hoped the wind would pre- sently veer to the eastward, and blow as hard from that quarter as it was now doing from the westward, thus — enabling us to use our sails and run in for the land. But when at the end of the week we got a fine day, and were able to ascertain our position from — observa- tions of the sun, we found, to our dismay, that the vessel had been drifting to the eastward at the rate of fifty or fifty-five miles per day. A strong current which sets to the eastward from the coast of Japan was partly — respon- sible for this. Advantage was taken of the weather by setting up another jury-mast and rigging it with sails. Next day, how- ever, the wind again freshened to a gale, and for another fortnight we drifted helplessly before strong westerly gales, getting farther and farther away from the track of vessels, with the prospect of a lingering death from starvation staring us in the face. We were cold, wet, and miserable. The seas continually washed over the decks, and our cabins leaked like sieves from the constant labouring of the ship, so that the rain and salt water penetrated through the seams, and we were forced to sleep in our oilskins. Endeavours were made to catch the rain-water to replenish our water supply, but it was so brackish from being mixed with salt- water spray as to be totally unfit for drinking

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302 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. purposes. Fortunately for ourselves we did not suffer much from thirst at this time, however, probably owing to the coldness of the weather, but the pangs of hunger were acute. In the cabin an extremely thin slice of bread was given to each man three times a day while the flour lasted, and a spoonful of tinned meat once a day. ‘The sailors had their rice served out in somewhat similar proportions. Twice during this trying period the despairing sailors came aft in a body demanding that all their food should be given to them. They now knew there was practically no hope of rescue, they said, and that, as they must die, they were determined to have a few good meals and then die quickly; anything was preferable to the lingering agony they were now enduring. On each of these occasions the captain, by dint of persuasion and threats, backed by his revolvers, prevailed on the poor fellows to take a more hopeful view of things. At the end of the first month none of us had any but the gloomiest fore- bodings as to our fate. We had hoped against hope that some vessel would be sighted = which would pick us up, but hope continually deferred made our hearts grow sick, and some- times we wished it would end quickly. The schooner seemed like a modern Flying Dutchman, drifting for ever over stormy seas, with never a sight of a sail to cheer us. One dav, hap- pening to look into the galley where the Chinese cook spent most of his time stolidly gazing into his “FOUND HIM LOVINGLY HANDLING THREE WKOWN OWJECIS ANOUT THE SIZE AND SHAPE OF A SMALL PREACH.” empty pans, I found him lovingly handling three brown objects about the size and shape of a small peach. They were composed of a concoction of cocoa and sugar, and this represented food which, if not very nourish- ing, at least meant something to eat. He had just taken them out of some secret hiding- place known only to himself. My first idea, born of hunger, was to snatch them out of his hand, but I resisted the impulse. However, I was determined to have one at least, so I appealed to his cupidity by offering him an absurdly large sum for the three pieces, to be paid him immediately we got ashore. To all my offers John’s only reply was, “ No can do.” He stubbornly refused all offers, saying he would not part with them for anything, as he was “‘velly hungly” himself. Eventually he consented to sell me one, provided I paid him cash down. All the money I had with me consisted of five dollars, and this John took in exchange for the smailest of the three pieces. I immediately disposed of my purchase, the cook following suit with his twochunks. By this time the flour was all gone, and for a few days longer we subsisted on a handful of nuts apiece — about twenty— twice a day until they were finished. Still we drifted on- wards, and still no ship came in sight. Death appeared _cer- tain, but just when all hope had been aban- doned the gales ceased and the weather became warmer. On Sun- day morning, February rst, we got our first fair wind, and with it hope was born

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 393 afresh. We had drifted so far “to the south-east that we struck the verge of the north-east trade winds! It was useless to think of getting back to Japan, as the vessel would not sail to any advantage except with a fair wind, so we shaped a course for Hong-Kong, then distant about two thousand miles. The breeze remained fair, but very poor progress was made, five miles being all we could show, sometimes, for a day’s run. With the advent of warm weather we began to suffer terribly from thirst, for by this time a small coffee-cupful was all we were allowed daily. It was found necessary to keep guard day and night over the water-cask, as the sailors con- stantly tried to steal its precious contents. One day, half crazed with hunger and thirst, the poor fellows came in a body to the captain and, baring their breasts, asked him to either shoot them at once or give them more water. He did neither. Soon all the food had been consumed and we were finally reduced to eating the copra of which the cargo consisted — evil - smelling, filthy-looking stuff, some of it black with age, and all more or less worm-eaten. Every morning the hatch was taken off and all hands went down armed with sheath-knives. Dropping on our knees we commenced scratching and scraping for choice pieces, for all the world like so many animals. The copra was so bad that out of a large chunk the only portion eatable would be about a square inch. Two or three of these pieces generally proved sufficient at one time. On and on we drifted, and still never a ship hove in sight. We began to think we were the only craft afloat on that vast ocean, and longed for death to put an end to the agony of suspense. On February 6th an island called Uraccas was sighted, but as it was barren and totally unin- habited we knew it was useless to call there. Fishing was indulged in every day, now that the weather was fine, but we never caught anything. A shark swimming alongside was harpooned, but we were all so weak that an attempt to land it on board proved a failure, and finally it worked itself off the harpoon and hurriedly disappeared. If we could only have managed to secure the shark it would have supplied us with food for some time; but Fate was against us in this as in every other respect. Drearily the days passed on, and then our hopes again began to rise. If we could only keep alive a little longer, we thought, all might yet be well, for we were nearing the China Sea. THE “ESMERALDA” From a) AS SHE APPEARED ON REACHING HONG-KONG HAKBOUR AFTER BEING ADKIFT FOR SIXTY-1WO DAYS, (Photo. Eventually we passed through the Bashee Channel, and on the Sunday following found ourselves among some Chinese fishing junks about forty miles from Hong-Kong. A pilot chanced to be among them, and came on board in answer to our signal. When he saw our pitiable condition he immediately sent away his boat, which presently returned with a supply of rice and fish. Great joy now prevailed among us. Next morning we were towed into Hong-Kong Harbour and anchored the vessel, all hands deeply thankful for our providential escape. From the day we were dismasted off Yokohama until our arrival at Hong-Kong the time was sixty-two days, during which we covered three thousand two hundred and sixty-five miles. A leading Hong-Kong paper described the voyage as the most adventurous on record in those parts. That may or may not be correct ; all I know is that I never wish to go through the like again. It is to be hoped that the bad old days of “crimping” and ‘“Shanghai-ing” are gone for ever, but it is said that there are still ports where these iniquitous practices continue, though more or less secretly. Here is a story, told by Mr. H. A. Hamilton, of Liverpool, concerning an exciting night adventure with South American “crimps,” and incidentally showing that these gentry do not always get things their own way. An unexpected meeting the other day with an old friend, of whom I had lost sight for quite a long time, recalled very vividly to mind the following little adventure which happened some years ago when we served together as officers on board the same vessel. My friend at the time was first and I second mate of a sailing-ship loading nitrate in one of the ports on the West Coast of South America. There were some sixty to seventy sailing- vessels moored in (the .bay,,4nd, with such a

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304 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. wide field for the exercise of their nefarious calling, tt may readily be supposed that the boarding-house keepers and crimps of the place were not idle; but, strange to say, during the six weeks of our stay in port our ship for some unaccountable reason did not receive a single visit from any of them, and as we expected to sail in a day or two we began to congratulate ourselves upon having been so fortunate as to escape the trouble and annoyance which in- variably follow in the wake of such undesirable visits. As subsequent events proved, how- ever, our self-congratulations were somewhat premature. It happened one day, as the mate and I came up on deck from dinner to enjoy a smoke previous to starting the crew towork again at one o'clock, that, chancing to look over the side, we espied a boat made fast to the foot of the accommodation ladder, the owner of which was pre- sumably on board the ship. It was a rather handsome four-oared skiff, tastefully fitted, while on the polished back-board was engraved in large gilt letters the name Violet. Gazing at it for some moments the mate at length remarked : “I think I have seen the Violet before, and if her owner is on board here he is after no good, so I'll just step forward and see who the visitor really is.” With that he strolled leisurely forward, pipe in mouth, to the forecastle door, while I remained on (_ the poop an interested spec- "*. tator. Presently there issued from the forecastle a man to whom the mate was addressing some remarks in the cool, decisive manner peculiar to him. What he said I could not hear, but the stranger apparently knew the character of the man with whom he had to deal, and showed no inclination to reply as he walked aft towards the gangway. He was a fine-looking fellow, about forty years of age, rather showily dressed in a style that was something of a compromise between the English fashion and that of the country. As he descended the ladder to his boat he paused, and turning, with a look that boded no good, uttered some remark that was inaudible to me. The mate replied, with a quiet smile, ‘Take my advice, ‘Tom Burt, and give this ship a wide 4 |) A. HAMILTON, WHO HERE RELATES HIS EXCIT- ING ADVENTUKE WITH SOUTH AMERICAN “‘CRIMPS.” From a Photo. berth, or you may find yourself a loser in the end.” ; To this the visitor made no answer, but stepping lightly into his boat seated himself, and, handling the sculls lke a practised oars- man, pulled away in the direction of the shore. On hearing the mate address him by name 1 at once recognised him as a somewhat noted crimp, of whom I had heard a great deal, but up to that time had never seen; and I now learned from the mate that he had known him for quite a long while, and on more than one occasion, while serving in other ships, had seen incalculable trouble caused by his attempts in influencing men to desert. At one o'clock we resumed work as usual, and for a time I forgot all about the dinner-hour inci- dent. Some little while later, however, two of the sailors, a German and a Swede, began to exhibit unmistak- able signs of being under the influence of liquor, and, as the afternoon wore on, they became so trouble- some that they were not only unfit to work them- selves, but also hindered others. Finally they had to be sent off the deck to the forecastle, where they soon fell into a drunken sleep. There was no need to in- quire from whom they had obtained the drink, for we knew only too well. When the captain came on board that evening the matter was reported to him, and the two delinquents were ordered aft to be logged and fined for being drunk and unfit for duty. They were now quite sober and sensible enough, and listened in silence to the reading of the entry in the log-book. When asked if they had any remarks to make they replied sullenly in the negative, and so were sent forward again ; and there I supposed the matter would end. But the mate, having had a much wider experience of affairs of this kind, was not inclined to dismiss the matter so summarily, for he argued that the men, now smarting under their punishment, would be all the more ready to lend a willing ear to the specious arguments of Tom Burt, should he again succeed in com- municating with them. His conclusions render- ing him somewhat restless and uneasy, we

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 305 remained on deck smoking and yarning far into the night. It passed, however, entirely: with- out incident, and the next day matters had apparently resumed their usual uneventful routine, with this exception, that we completed loading and began at once to make preparations for sailing early the following morn- ing. The mate deter- mined, now that we had but one more night to spend in port, to take every pre- caution to guard against the possi- bility of any of the men being taken out of the ship, and so it was arranged that either he, myself, or the boatswain should be on deck throughout the night, and as the middle watch —the hours be- tween midnight and 4 a.m.—fell to my lot I re- tired rather earlier than usual. When I came on deck at mid- night to relieve the mate I found’ allquiet on board. ‘There was no one stirring but our- selves, and after a few minutes’ conversation he stepped quietly to a small box in the companion, where lay a pair of binoculars, by the aid of which I soon made out three men engaged in lowering something over the bows. At the same moment Turner, an apprentice, stepped noiselessly to my side. There's something going on for’ard, sir,” he whispered. “T think there's a boat under the bows.” Concluding at once that the men were intend- ing deserters, lowering their effects into a crimp’s boat, my first impulse was to rush forward and endeavour to stop them, but remembering the mate’s emphatic instructions to call him before taking any action, with a word of caution to the lad to remain quietly where he was, I dived down the companion - way to the mate’s room. His door stood wide open and the lamp burned low. Turning up the light I tapped the sleeper gently on the shoulder. He was wide awake in an instant, with went below to all his senses “turn in.” about him, and, Left to myself, (CTHERE'S SOMETHING GOING ON FOR'ARD, SIR,’ HE WHISPERED.” raising himself I began to pace the poop, and I must confess that I did not feel very charitably disposed towards Tom Burt, who was the cause of my being turned out of my com- fortable bed to keep a lonely four hours’ watch. Presently, happening to glance towards the bows of the ship, I became conscious of figures moving about on the forecastle head. This discovery came upon me with something of a shock, but instantly realizing the serious nature of it I Vol. xvii, 39 on one elbow, he quietly asked, “Well, what is it?” “There’s a boat under the bow,” I replied, “and some of the hands preparing to go in her.” “Ah!” he exclaimed, ‘I expected as much.” Swinging himself out of his bunk, without pausing for either cap or shoes, but just as he was in his sleeping suit, he rushed up on deck. I followed closely behind him, concluding that he intended to go.forward, but as he reached

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306 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the deck his eye alighted on Turner, to whom, to my surprise, he said, “Jump into the boat, boy.” Now the boat, which was used during the daytime in communicating with the shore, was hanging in the davits, where it had been hoisted up at the close of the day, and “ frapped” close in to the ship’s side to prevent it from swinging about. As it was evidently the mate’s intention to lower it, I sprang towards it, and noticed for the first time that the frappings had been removed and the tackle falls coiled on deck clear for running, a precaution which I after- wards learned he had taken during his watch on deck 1n anticipation of having to use the boat. As I reached the alter davit he stood by the forward one, and asked, in a low voice, “Are you ready ?” “ All ready, sir,” I replied. “Then lower away,” he Ordered, and as swiftly and silently as possible we lowered the boat into the water. Then, jumping on to the rail, we seized hold of the tackles and slid down into her. In doing so, however, the lower blocks rattled noisily, and the sound served to give the alarm to those forward, and presently a boat shot out from under the shadow of the ship’s bow. “Take the other oar and let the lad steer,” cried the mate, and the next moment we were off in hot pursuit of the fugitives. Although it was difficult to distinguish clearly in the uncertain starlight, we could still see that the other boat contamed three or four men, and felt convinced that some of our crew were of the number. The crimps had the advantage of a good start, and their boat being smaller and lighter than ours, and propelled by two pairs of sculls in the hands of men who well knew how to use them, they experienced no difficulty in maintaining their advantage ; a fact, however, which only served to stimulate us to greater efforts in our determination to overhaul them. I pulled “stroke,” and behind me I could hear the mate’s heavy breathing, as he now and again repeated his order to ‘Turner to “ Steer right in the wake of the other boat,” or an occasional query as to whether we were gaining upon her. On and 01 we sped, through the tranquil, starry night; past tier after tier of ships, loom- ing vague and shadowy in the uncertain light. After a while I began to wonder whither the fugitives were leading us, for as I recognised some of the ships we passed I knew they were not steering a direct course for the mole or landing-place. The same question apparently occurred to the mate, for he presently remarked, “Tom Burt is heading for the reef, thinking we won't attempt the passage in the dark; but where he yoes we are going to follow.” Now the passage he referred to was safe enough for a boat by daylight, though it was not a customary thing to make use of it after dark. But my chief evidently was not going to let this deter him from his purpose of foiling his old adversary ; and so we still rowed on, without pause or slackening, while the deep roar of the surf and the splash of the breakers on the reef grew gradually louder and louder, till at length we found ourselves within the passage, with the breakers seething and foaming on either hand, and could dimly discern the dark pinnacles of rock standing out threaten- ingly above the white crest of each receding wave. That we were now steadily gaining upon the other boat was beyond question, and, encouraged by this, we summoned all our energies to increase our advantage, as we shot out clear of the reef into the open water beyond. Then, suddenly, the echoes of the night were awakened by the sharp crack of a revolver, and the next moment our boat swerved sharply off to the right, for, surprised by the startling suddenness of the report, Turner had inadvertently ported his helm. This resort to the use of firearms on the part of our opponents was a ‘decidedly unpleasant feature of the affair, for which I, at least, was wholly unprepared ; for though quite well aware that a man of Tom Burt’s calibre was not over- scrupulous in his methods and would not hesitate to use almost any means to prevent us from interfering with his plans, yet I certainly did not think he would go so far as to fire on us. Awakening thus suddenly to the fact, I felt far from comfortable, for I had no desire to be made the object of revolver practice. The mate, however, seemed not in the least disconcerted, but quietly ordered Turner to “Starboard a little and keep our boat a bit inshore of the skiff.” So we continued the pursuit, never for a moment relaxing in our efforts. As the boat responded to each stroke of the oars the distance separating us from our object grew less, until, in a hard, clear voice, Tom Burt sang out, “ Keep off, or by Heaven I'll put a bullet through you !” Regardless of consequences we still rowed on, and again, with a vivid flash, the revolver spoke out. For one brief instant I thought the mate faltered in his stroke, and I heard him mutter something. It was only for an instant, how ever, for his next stroke was as strong .and vigorous as ever. Matters were now fast approaching a climax, and it was not without certain misgivings that I realized the fact, for-in our hurried departure

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 307 from the ship no definite plan of action had been discussed, and it began to dawn upon me that in the event of a struggle, which now seemed inevitable, we should find ourselves at a decided disadvantage, destitute as we were of weapons of any kind. But although I fully realized the seriousness of the difficulty, yet I could see no satisfactory way out of it, and so, notwithstanding my misgivings as to what the issue might be, I was perforce obl'ged to wait the development of events. But I was not destined to remain very long in doubt, for, as not infre- quently happens in moments of uncertainty, it was the unexpected which finally solved the difficulty. We were now running nearly parallel with the shore, which was on our left and some four hundred yards distant, and already the mole was in view, rather less than a quarter of a mile ahead. We were pro- bably some thirty or forty yards astern of the other boat, which was now on our star- board bow. We were bend- ing to our oars with savage energy, grimly determined to overtake the crimps before they should effect a landing, when suddenly ‘Turner uttered an exclamation of surprise. The next moment our boat came into violent contact with something ahead, the shock of the impact pitching the mate and myself face down- ward over our oars, while ‘Turner, who had been seated upon the gunwale, the better to observe the movements of the other boat, was shot clean over the stern into the water. As I picked myself up and looked around I realized at a glance what had happened. Finding that his utmost efforts to outdistance us were un- availing, desperation appa- rently overcame Burt’s better judgment. Miscalculating the distance between the boats and the speed at which we were overhauling him, he had suddenly st-rboarded his helm, hoping by this means to shoot across our bows and gain the mole before us. It was a most unwise proceed- ing, as the result proved, for the manceuvre was so sudden and unexpected that it was impossible to avoid a collision, and before Turner had time to realize the situation the heavy bow of our boat crashed into the frail side of the skiff, cutting her right down. Instantly she filled and capsized, precipitating her occupants into the water. In the confusion which followed I forgot all else in my anxiety for Turner, to whose assistance I immediately hastened. Being a good swimmer he seemed none the worse for his ducking, but regarded it as rather good sport. So having helped him into the boat again I looked around to see if I could render assistance to anyone else ; for bad as the crimps’ motives were, and little sympathy though they had to expect from us, yet we could not stand idly by and see them drowned. But they were apparently inclined to accept no favours from us, for, after a smothered impreca- “THE HEAVY BOW OF OUR BOAT CRASHED INTO THE FRAIL SIDE.OF “THE SKIFF.”

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308 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tion or two, Tom Burt, who was swimming strongly, called out, “ Make for the shore, Jeff; don’t let the beggars pick you up.” A moment later we saw him and his accomplice striking out vigorously in the direction of the mole. In teply to my inquiry as to whether we should follow them, my chief replied, “No, let them go, they are safe enough ; perhaps the loss of their boat may serve as a lesson to them.” Just then, as I was resuming my place at the oar, a hand grasped the side of the boat close by where I sat, and a head and shoulders quickly followed into view. “ Halloa!” I exclaimed, “ who is this?” “Tt is me, sir,” a voice replied, meckly, and I at once recognised the Swedish seaman who had been logved for being drunk. “All right,” I said; ‘get into the boat.” This he did with surprising alacrity, and I then inquired if there had been anyone else with him. “No, sir; Hans hadn't time to get away,” he innocently answered. Hardly had he finished speaking when in a loud voice the wyi/ante on the mole hailed the boat. Prudently cautioned by the mate to keep silent, we made no reply to the challenge ; for though the noise caused by the collision had evidently been heard ashore, still we hoped that the wet/ante was unable to see us. After a moment or two the same voice rang out again, clear and sharp through the stillness of the night, but this second challenge we also disregarded, as we sat silent and motionless peering through the darkness towards the shore, where we could dimly discern the white buildings of the town forming a grey blot against the darker back- ground of hills. Having recovered our man, we had no desire to pursue the matter farther, or to become involved in difficulties with the port authorities —a contingency to be avoided if at all possible. And so, while we watched and waited expec- tantly, we presently saw the flash of a lantern on the mole, and the sound of voices became dis- tinctly audible, from which we gathered that the discomfited crimps had succeeded in reach- ing the mole in safety and were being assisted out of the water by the wes/anfe. Much to our relief, the light shortly after disappeared, the voices died away in the distance, and again the deep silence of the night reigned about us. We now found ourselves confronted by another and scarcely less serious difficulty ; for we became aware of the unpleasant fact that our boat was rapidly filling with water. I could feel it rising gradually above my ankles. Realizing at once that she had received some serious injury in the collision, the mate, who was forward, began to search for the leak, and, having discovered it, calmly divested himself of his sleeping-jacket, which he folded in the form of a pad and placed over the leak, and then, seating himself against it to keep it in place, remarked, “That ought to stop it pretty well. Pass me the bailer.” As the nigrt air was chilly I gave him my jacket to put round his shoulders, and he then directed me to take the tiller, while ‘Turner and the now woeful-looking and thoroughly dejected seaman manned the oars. And so we started to pull back to the ship, the desirability of reaching her as speedily as possible becoming more and more apparent as we proceeded, for, in spite of the mate’s im- provised plug and his persistent efforts with the bailer, the water steadily gained upon him, momentarily lessening the buoyancy and stability of the boat and making it necessary for us to observe the greatest caution in our movements so as to avoid capsizing her. By dint of strenuous exertions on the mate’s part, however, we managed to keep afloat and reached the ship without further mishap, though not a moment too soon. But I had not yet seen the full measure of our chapter of accidents, for on the mate remov- ing my jacket from his shoulders he disclosed an ugly bullet wound in the upper part of his tight arm. Fortunately, however, it was not very serious, and in a very short time I had it sponged clean and dressed, he meanwhile philo- sophically remarking that the satisfaction he had derived from having once more foiled his old adversary well repaid him for the loss of a little blood. As we sailed early the following morning the affair never gained publicity ; for, with the ex- ception of the parties immediately concerned, it was known to no one save the zigilante who had assisted the crimps to land, and for obvious reasons Tom Burt had no doubt found a ready means of securing his silence. Before sailing, however, we learnt from an indirect source that Burt had vowed dire vengeance upon the mate should he ever meet him again ; but, fortunately, the vow still remains unfulfilled.

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, te & Aw BD Odds and Ends. An Open.Air Restaurant—An Unwelcome Passenger—The “ Menhirs” of Brittany, etc. [p> ) HE agricultural methods Ke | ‘ } now in use in some yy BREW but little from those ——— employed centuries ago. These simple farmers wot not of such things as artificial manures and the rotation of crops ; some of them have not yet got beyond the wooden-plough stage. The annexed photograph shows how ploughing is done in the Basque country of Hl “Spain, where the people still hold fast to the ancient ways. Our readers will observe the extra- ordinary fur head-dresses of the patient oxen, and note the primi- tive wooden plough which they are drawing—a plough that the driver will throw over his shoulder and carry home when the day’s work is done. Travellers exploring the moun- tains of Java need certainly never fear being starved through lack of opportunities to buy food. There are plenty of “kampongs,” or | parts of Europe differ . A PRIMITIVE METHOD OF AGRICULTURE IN SPAIN—THE OXEN WEAR HUGE BUR HEAD- » From a) DRESSES, WHILE THEIR DRIVER USES A WOODEN PLOUGH. — (Photo. AN OFEN-AIR RESTAURANT BY THE RUAUSIDE IN JAVA—A DRL. MEAL CAN KF ORTAINFD FOR THE From a Photo. by} (0. Kurkdyian, Java. native villages, everywhere, and in every “kam- pong ” there are ‘‘ warongs,” or restaurants. True, One cannot expect to be served with a meal of several courses in these __ primitive establishments —one of which is depicted in our next photograph —but you can always depend on a dinner consist- ing of snow-white, beautifully- boiled rice, with dried fish, chillies, and “sesaté”—a tasty preparation of pieces of grilled mutton on little sticks. This menu can be supple- mented with native cakes, de- licious banana fritters, or speci- mens of the same golden fruit freshly cut from the trees behind

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THE A FouRT STRAMER J Froma) FOOT PYTHON WHICH SWAM OUT TO AN AFRICAN LAKE D CKEATED A REIGN OF TERROR ON BOARD UNTIL KILLED. (Photo. the “ warong.” Such a dinner would cost about sixpence, including a cup of weak black coffee. Scrupulous cleanliness is a characteristic of the Javans, and if they cannot serve all the eatables in the “ warongs” on plates they will often offer the steaming rice, for instance, on bright green, shiny banana leaves which have first been dipped in water and carefully dried. What a contrast between these idyllic open-air restaurants and the frowzy “ coffee-stall ” of more civilized countries ! Certain members of the snake tribe have a way of “getting about” a good deal more than those unfamiliar with their habits suppose, lengthy journeys being quite the rule with some species. Here is a case in point. A big python, taking air and exercise by means of an evening swim on Lake Victoria Nyanza, in British East Africa, came across the steamer Syér/, which was moored off Port Florence. The reptile was apparently interested, for he swam round the vessel until he encountered the accommodation ladder. Up this he went, bent on inspecting the ship, and ere long a reign of terror set in among the passengers, for the alarming news spread round that a monstrous python was roaming round the cabins! Finally, about WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. midnight, after some excitement, the inquisitive snake was located and shot by a Mr. Grey, who is here shown holding up the skin of his prize. The snake, when killed, measured fourteen feet in length—a decidedly unpleasant bedfellow. The extraordinary - looking object seen in the following photograph is a native dressed and accoutred to represent the Malabar deity known as Kattichatham. ‘The Malabaris believe in the existence of countless devils or evil spirits, and every year members of certain castes, such as the Malayas and Munnootans, attire themselves to represent these deities, who are seemingly very grotesque-looking creatures indeed. When decked out in all their uncouth finery these “human gods” take up their position in the various temples, where they are worshipped and offerings made to them, Kuttichatham is the most feared of all the devils, for he is the most mischievous. He will throw stones and dirt at persons who have incurred his displeasure and spoil their food, but never causes serious bodily injury. It is an undoubted fact that people who are popularly supposed to have offended Kuttichatham— or, what amounts to the same thing, his priests or followers— spend an exceedingly uncomfortable time tll the “influence” is removed. They find all N GOD"—A NATIVE DRESSED TO REPRESENT KUTTI- CHATHAM, AN EVIL SPIRIT MUCH FEARED BY THE MALABARIS. From a Photo. by N. Kunhi Raman,

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ODDS AND ENDS. 3ur sorts of horrible things in their food, unseen hands bombard them with rubbish and pebbles, and they are subjected to various kinds of annoy- ances—happening in such unexplainable ways as to entirely mystify Europeans who have studied the matter. The unique series of marine romances which we are now publishing under the title “On the High Seas,” has proved immensely popu- lar, as letters which are reach- ing us from all over the world abundantly prove, while con- tributions for the series come to us from officers and others serving in every sea. In this connection we have pleasure in reproducing the portrait of Miss Elsie Morgan, who went through a terrible experience on board the schooner Ol/vm- Pia, as related in THE WIDE Wortp MaGazine for May. Miss Morgan, it will be re- membered, was the sole sur- vivor of the passengers and crew of the ill-fated vessel, all on board save herself falling victims to the rifle of a mur- derous negro. ‘This miscreant pitched Miss Morgan and another lady into a boat and rowed away from the sinking ship. Almost immediately afterwards he killed the elder lady and her hapless babe; then he turned his gun upon poor Miss Mor- gan, who leaped overboard and struck out for the distant shore, MISS ELSIE MORGAN, with the mur- derer in hot pur- suit. At last, after a_ terrible swim through a shark-infested sea, the brave girl reached the island of Utilla in a state of utter collapse. We are indebted to Miss Morgan for her kindness in forwarding her photograph, and are pleased to know that she has now practically recovered from the effects of her awful experience. The next photograph we reproduce depicts a WHOSE TERRIALE FIGHT FOK LIFE WAS DFSCRIRED IN THE MAY “ WIDE WOKLD MAGAZINE.” From a Photo. by Simon, THE MYSTERIOUS ‘ MENHIRS "OR STONE MONUMENTS OF SOUTH BRITTANY— SCIENTISTS CAN THROW NO LIGHT UVON THE ORIGIN OF THESE MIGHTY ROCKS. From a Photo. group of “ menhirs,” or monolithic monuments, near Carnac, in South Brittany. In this part of France there are literally hundreds and hundreds of these mighty rocks, all arranged in regular parallel lines, and stretching for a distance of about three miles east and west, with only two slight breaks in the long chain. The legend of the Breton peasants concern- ing the origin of these myste- rious rocks is that when their patron saint—St. Cornélie— was attacked on one occasion by a number of marauders he prayed for assistance, and in- stantly his opponents were turned to stone—hence the regular lines of —menhirs. Scientists say, however, that the stones were put up by some prehistoric race in memory of their dead, or as memorials to noted warriors ; but how they were erected, or when, the learned men can- not say. Some time ago two Ameri- can gentlemen, Messrs. Bos- worth and Davis, conceived the remarkable idea of break- ing in a team of bisons, or American buffalo, and driving them in a cart for exhibition purposes. They went to the famous “Goodnight ” ranch in Texas and selected four specimens, each about four years old and half grown, and these were shipped to Sunfield, Michigan. It took several hours to unload them, as they appeared to like their quarters, or at least unwilling to change them for an uncer- tainty. By coax- ing and urging they were finally loaded into the vans specially constructed — for them, and taken to the Bosworth and Davis farm about five miles distant. A barn with a high board fence around it was to be the buffaloes’ home during their training. A Mr. Boyer, a horse trainer, had been engaged to break them. Their harness was a

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312 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Such twisting and turn- ing, running, jumping, and charging was never seen before. They tangled and untangled themselves with the harness times without number. They were probably the first and only American buffa- loes ever in harness, and they resented the innova- tion until they were tired out, when they went back to their stalls. This weari- some process was re- peated day after day and week after week, until they were thoroughly broken, and would start, stop, walk, or trot at the word of the driver. After the bisons : ; were thoroughly broken fa re ‘a cs they were driven at cele- brations, fairs, etc., where combination ox-yoke and harness. This was put they always proved a great “draw” and a on with considerable difficulty, the animals were paying investment. However, as might have hitched to the breaking-cart, and Mr. Boyer’s been expected, they did not take kindly to troubles began. One photographer had a reserved harness, and did not thrive as they should. For seat on the roof of the barn, out of harm’s the past year they have been turned out, where way, and greatly enjoyed the fun. He fully they run peaceably with cattle, being occa- expected it to end in the death of all concerned. sionally driven to keep them in practice. THIS IS PROBABLY THE FIRST TEAM OF Pal ¢ ‘Tnroucn . Arctic Seas ere IN THEA! leeanst £ STA, yorsn 4 te 5 os ~ Joke fa f (vituace or BASKET-MAKERS ees Vetted gor Ge is (On THE His Sev An InvTERRUPTED {_ YTERR OU Le A Tecan of Buffaloes Primiti dg, Paice Mite ME SPORTH ExPERIENC Across. Mexico Se a Ap Upweleame $e tr a Mot oOR-CAR 9 Hoto-Up | : ae THE GREAT IDNAPPING OF Sea Siuc » Eppie BRATHWAITE . My Two Days’ Hotipay THR MAP-CONTENTS OF “‘THE WIDE WORLD MAG

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oo ae tear ee ee PS Seas Re ee | OO Ree **EVERY FEW MINUTES HE WOULD CHARGE FIERCELY IN MY DIRECTION.” (SEE PAGE 319.)

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVII. AUGUST, 1906, No. 100 Some Sporting Experiences. We published recently a batch of fishing stories—- queer adventures happening to anglers while following their favourite pastime. Below will be found the last of several even more exciting narratives, related this time by a devotee of the gun in a distant part of the world. A perusal of these stories proves how true it is that when a man goes out to ‘shoot something" he never knows what is going to happen to him or how soon the hunter may become the hunted. Ill.—A FIGHT WITH A YAK. By W. C. Jameson REID, AUTHOR OF “ UNEXPLORED Asta,” “ AMONG THE FARTHEST PEopLe,” Etc. N the course of my explorations in Tibet* I had reached Nha-ha-hi- wan, an isolated and insignificant tribal village in Eastern ‘Tibet, where I had determined to halt my expedition previous to ascending the head waters of the Yangtze-kiang and Dji-chu tributaries into the little-known province of Sifan. In addition, I was anxious to obtain some specimens of the yak for museum purposes, and, as the immense plain to the westward contained large herds of these animals, I planned to spend several weeks in pursuing them, with the assistance of friendly native trackers. Difficulties soon arose to prevent the accom- plishment of my plans. The ‘Tibetans, previous to my arrival, had already had their summer hunt, and no inducement would persuade them to engage in another for several months, for fear of incurring the displeasure of the deities. A few years before, according to their lamas, a troop of hunters had gone on an expedition out of the appointed season and had never been heard of again, having been trampled to death by a herd of “ghost yak,” which the angered gods had sent to punish them. Another superstitious belief which prevented their going was that the animals I killed would live for ever in spirit form, and would be in such a happy state that they would induce all the vast herds of yak and deer to migrate to the mysterious “ white man’s country,” so that the ‘libetans would starve to death. There seemed no alternative but to wait until their next hunt, but the necessity of pushing northward before the winter of Arctic severity had set in over these elevated regions would not permit such a lengthy halt. At last, finding that neither cajolery nor appeals to their cupidity *The author did much important exploration work in Tibet years before the British troops visited Lhasa.—Ep. Vol. xvii,—40, would tempt them to accompany me, I deter- mined to enter upon the chase alone, with one of my own Kiangsi boatmen. Just as we were on the point of starting, however, we secured a welcome addition to our strength in the person of a young Sifan, who—either less superstitious than the others, or tempted by the promise of reward—azreed to brave the anger of the gods for a more or less substantial consideration. Among his own people this, gentleman was a mighty hunter and warrior, and the proud owner of a name that in length left nothing to be desired, but which, for purposes of expediency, we were compelled to shorten to the more utilitarian one of “Johnny.” And a welcome guide he was too, for with our absolute lack of knowledge of the country he was of necessity interpreter, official head, dog - driver, hunter, guide, cook, and general factotum of the expedi- tion, though the duties of the first functionary never became very onerous, for during the entire journey we did not see a sign of human beings. For three days after leaving the tribal settle- ment we travelled at a slow pace over a stony desert. Shortly before sundown on the third day “Johnny,” who had been exploring the country in advance, returned to the camp with the welcome intelligence that he had found traces of several large herds of yak in the sheltered valley to the north-west. Although almost midsummer, the weather was bitterly cold, owing to the high altitude, but with the keenness of the hunt upon us we set out early the following morning, each with the leashes of two huge mastiffs attached to his belt. In a few hours we came upon the tracks in the snow which “ Johnny” had discovered, crossed by other and fresher ones which must have been made during the night, indicating that there were some of the huge beasts in our immediate

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316 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. vicinity. Sure enough, as we reached the crest of the first hill, we saw numerous black specks on the slope of the next range, and peering through my field-glasses I beheld about twenty yak feeding in a sort of amphitheatre about five miles away from our position. With a wild shout “ Johnny ” started off with his dogs, hotly followed by the Kiangsi. Striving to emulate their example, I had not proceeded twenty feet when I was brought heavily to the ground by falling over a large boulder. My worst mishaps were several severe bruises and a slightly wrenched ankle, but thinking that they would wait for me, or slowdown at the first hill, I stopped to attend to my injuries, releas- ing the dogs at my belt so as not to be encumbered by their frantic tug- gings. Imagine, then, my disgust and sur- prise on resuming the trail and reach- ing the hill to see my companions just disappearing over a hill a long way ahead, and— apparently uncon- scious of my mis- adventure—still rushing along at top speed. There was obvi- ously no chance of overtaking them, for my ankle still gave me consider- able pain, so, turn- ing round, I started leisurely to walk back to the shelter and wait until they discovered my absence and returned. It was now my turn to be surprised, for, rounding a little bend in the trail, I had not gone ten steps when I heard a muffled bellow. I had hardly got over the sudden fright caused by this interruption before I became aware that a huge bull yak, his wicked little eyes gleaming and his long horns tossing in the air, was charging directly at me ! I raised my Martnlicher and fired three shots rapidly at the big head, but seemingly they had “1 WAS BROUGHT HEAVILY TO THE GROUND BY FALLING OVER A LAKGE BUULDER.” no more appreciable effect than if I had been firing peas. For a moment the huge beast stood still, doubtless puzzled at the strange sound of the discharge ; but hardly had I time to take refuge behind a convenient boulder than onward he came with lowered head and bellow- ing frightfully. Several thin streams of blood were trickling down his long mane. With marvellous agility he stopped short when he had reached my position, and at once started to chase me round the obstruction. Imme- diately I started at arun to seek a more sheltered position behind a larger rock, some fifty yards away; but in spite of his enor- mous bulk the yak was after me at once, and in a second almost, it seemed, I could hear his hoarse breathing at my heels. I had just time to throw my- self flat on the ground to one side as he thundered past ; then, hastily scrambling to my feet, I made an- other run for it, just as he turned and once more charged me. My cap had fallen to the ground as I fell, and to this the brute _ first turned his atten- tion. Then he descried me be- hind the boulder, and commenced to rush round it. With his savage, bloodshot eyes and his long, sharp horns, he looked like a demon incarnate. The situation seemed all but hopeless. My only chance of escape lay in dodging the infuriated beast round the rock until he was tired out, for I had lost my rifle in the fall, and there was little chance of the Kiangsi or “ Johnny ” returning for some time. Again and again the yak charged and circled the rock, sometimes coming against the boulder with such force as to fall on his knees, while at other times he/rushed, so| rapidly round the

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SOME SPORTING EXPERIENCES, 317 “AGAIN AND AGAIN THE VAK CHAKGED AND CIRCLED THE ROCK.” obstruction that his horns almost touched me. How long the awful game lasted I cannot tell, but after the first excitement wore off an un- utterable weariness took possession of me, and nothing but sheer force of will kept me on my feet. My tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of my mouth, my eyes grew misty, my knees trembled, and a ringing in my ears warned me that my endurance was well-nigh exhausted. The maddened beast was now almost at my heels, but in the midst of my despair my heart gave a sudden bound of hope as I heard the quick, panting gasps which gave warning that he, too, was tiring perceptibly. I did not dare to look round for fear of losing the slight advan- tage that I had gained; my brain was dizzy from the constant circlings within a narrow space. With dogged despair I scurried round the boulder halfa-dozen times more, when I nearly fell to the ground from mingled fright and surprise, for the savage brute, wearying of the chase, had suddenly stopped and turned in the other direction, so that I had almost thrown myself upon his lowered head be- fore I discovered his presence ! By a superhuman effort I leaped to one-side, and before he could turn had scrambled over to the other side of the boulder. Evi- dently my adversary was not de- sirous of continuing the chase longer, for he stood gazing at me and bellowing dismally. For several minutes we eyed each other curiously ; then, with a disdainful sniff, as if express- ing his disgust with the whole affair, the yak broke away in a lumbering gallop to the south. About twenty yards farther on he disappeared from view, presumably rushing up the narrow ravine be- tween the two low mountain-ranges. The exertions of the last half- hour had about used me up, and not until I had recovered my breath did I think of my rifle, lying a short distance away. I started for- ward to find it, when the satisfac- tion I had experienced at seeing the last of the savage brute was rudely shattered by a hoarse bel- low and the spectacle of my enemy rushing at me once more, with head truculently lowered. The old rascal had doubtless been watch- ing my every movement from the shelter of the tamarisk clumps in the ravine, and had sought to take me unawares. I saw in an instant that he was nearer to my previous shelter than I was, and that it would be impossible to gain it without being over- taken. There was but one thing left — to summon all my remaining strength and run for it, relying on finding some shelter where I could withstand his frantic charges. One thing was in my’ favour— the vindictive brute was so intensely mad with rage and the pain occa- sioned by his wounds that in his headlong chase he rushed forward blindly, and each time I was able to swerve to one side before he could strike me. At every unsuccessful charge his anger grew more manifest, and his snortings and bellowings were almost incessant. In this manner, one wild charge following another, I dodging and then running ahead at full speed before the yak could recover and turn, we gradually worked up the narrow plain for a quarter of a mile. The fact that I could evade the beast so easily gave me new heart. To add to my misfortunes, however, my injured ankle, to which up,to thistime I had given no

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318 : THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. serious attention, began to make itself keenly felt by sharp pains and twinges that almost brought me to the ground. Matters were now growing desperate. I realized that, even by dodging, I could not hold out much longer against the savage beast behind, who, finding himself baffled at each succeeding charge, had had been blown down, and that its top lay among the limbs of the other, forming a sort of natural bridge across the intervening space. Instantly it flashed upon me that here was a means of escape, and with a bound I clambered over the slippery trunk and flung myself into the branches of the other tree—not a moment “] REALIZED THAT, EVEN BY DODGING, 1 COULD NOT HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER AGAINST THE SAVAGE BEAST BEHIND,” now grown more wary, and was exercising more skill at every rush. I was now running along a high ridge, which on one side fell in an almost perpendicular descent to a plain of lower elevation, about twenty feet beneath. The yak was not a dozen yards behind me; there were no friendly boulders or other obstructions, and things were too alarming for comfort. Suddenly looking ahead, I saw a small tree which shot up from the plain below to about the level of the ridge upon which I was running, only six or seven feet from the verge. My heart gave a bound of joy as I saw that another tree, which formerly had stood directly in the path, too soon, for my savage pursuer almost touched me with his horns as he rushed up, just stopping in time to save himself from falling headlong over the declivity. I was now comparatively safe for the present, but in a few moments the perspiration, which had soaked through my clothes, began to freeze, and I shook in every limb as the icy winds hurtled down from the snowy summits beyond my refuge. At each moment the danger from this source grew greater, and I now saw for the first time that my position was not greatly im- proved for the better. True, I had escaped the horns of the savage yak—now blinking wrath- fully at me on the edge of the cliff—but what L

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SOME SPORTING EXPERIENCES. 319 small consolation was gained by this fact was nullified by the unpleasant assurance that in my present exposed condition the chances of being frozen to death were not out of the range of possibilities. I was awakened to a new sense of this danger by feeling a delicious drowsiness creeping over me, and I had almost fallen from my position before I could recover myself sufficiently to battle against the desire to give way to this fatal languor. For several minutes all thoughts of my savage assailant had been forgotten, but now, looking in his direction, I saw him still standing on the edge of the declivity. To see me sitting there, not ten feet away, yet out of his reach, was becoming too great a tax on his excited temper, for every few minutes he would rush back some distance and then charge fiercely in my direc- tion, as if with the intention of leaping out boldly and carrying me down with him in the fall. But the distance was too great, and he would stop on the brink, while I fervently prayed that he might make a mis-step and be hurled over on to the plain below. The brilliant inspiration came to me at that moment to cut a branch off the tree, attach my hunting-knife to its end, and, crawling along the horizontal trunk, to try and stab him in some vital part. But the thought that I should have to approach within a few feet of him, and that in his fury he might forget his previous hesitation and leap at me, carrying me down with him, banished that plan as impracticable. Next I unhooked my knapsack and tossed it on the edge of the brink, thinking that he might be persuaded to charge that disastrously ; but he only sniffed at it cautiously, looking at me with a wicked leer in his blinking little eyes, as if to say that he was too old and wise a patriarch to be hoodwinked by any such trick. Placing my hand to one side of my head, I felt my ear growing hard and leathery to the touch; it was frozen stiff. My position now was desperate. There seemed but one ending —either to risk all in getting rid of that furious beast on the one hand, or being quickly frozen to death on the other. After much exertion, for my fingers were benumbed, I lopped off a stout branch and fastened my heavy knife to the end of it with the thongs from my hunting jacket. Then, carefully crawling out on the trunk of the fallen tree, I slowly began to edge toward the cliff. The yak, not rightly comprehending this move- ment on my part, ceased his bellowing and eyed me curiously. Slowly I worked myself along the frail bridge until I was almost within three feet of him. For the time being all thoughts of danger from any source had vanished. I was angry, exasperated, almost driven to insane fury by the malevolence of the beast. I did not seem to care what the inevitable ending must be ; I was only possessed of a fierce desire to wreak vengeance on him. For a moment he exposed his huge side to me, and, summoning all my remaining strength, 1 drove at him with my rude spear. One brief instant he remained motionless, as if not rightly understanding it all; then, with a frightful bellow and forgetful of all else save the pain of the wound, he rushed at me! My brain reeled, I sought to crawl back, but it was too late. I had just time to swerve slightly to one side, so that his ponderous body would not overwhelm me, when, with a sickening dread, I felt myself falling. Another second and the breath was nearly knocked out of my body as I fell head-first into a bank of snow which had been blown over the edge of the higher elevation and gathered in a drift in this sheltered refuge. I was on my feet in an instant, and, looking round, I saw that the yak had fallen into the bank not ten feet away, the back part of his body only being exposed, the great levs kicking wildly in the air. The situation for the moment was so ludicrous that I was almost tempted to laugh, but knowing that, in spite of his inglorious position, the animal was to all intents and purposes practically uninjured, and was still a formidable assailant, I looked round for my knife with the intention of attacking and killing him while he was at a disadvantage. But I was too late. By the time I reached it he had floundered out of the drift, stood stupidly shaking the snow from his shoulders, and then, with an angry snort, rushed at me again. I gave myself up for lost, and was preparing to battle with him at close quarters with my knife, when I gained new life at the sound of human voices above me, and in another moment the faces of the Kianygsi and the Sifan hunter peered over the edge of the cliff. The latter seemed to understand the situation at a glance, for with a wild shout he leaped over the edge of the declivity and, regaining his feet in an instant, rushed at the beast with his long spear, making terrific lunges at its huge body. It was a magnificent display of courage, and I almost forgot my exhaustion as I watched it. The yak - was now weakening perceptibly from loss of blood, but, as if possessed by some evil demon, and attributing his wounds to my machinations, he ignored the Tibetan, and sought in a last despairing outburst to rush at me. The Sifan, shouting something incoherent, leaped forward at the infuriated beast. ‘There was a struggle, a cloud of snow, a tremendous stamping, and

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320 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the bull was on his back, the blood gushing from a great wound in his neck and his limbs quivering in death. With a smile ‘ Johnny” turned to me as if to show how easily such things could be done provided one only knew how. overtake them, they had kept on, until the barking of the dogs had caused the herd which they were following to stampede. Then, know- ing that it would be useless to follow them, they had given up the chase and had returned to “THE SIFAN, SHOUTING SOMETHING INCOHERENT, LEAVED FORWARD AT THE INFURIATED BEAST.” I was too weak and cold to think of cutting off the animal’s head and skin, but hurried back to our shelter, where, after my ears had been thawed out, I was able to tell my story to the wondering Kiangsi and “Johnny.” ‘The latter, much to my disgust, instead of looking upon the occasion as a serious one, in some unex- plainable manner seemed to find in it elements decidedly humorous, for at intervals he would roll on his back and give way to uncontrollable fits of laughter. Although it had seemed days to me, I found that my exciting experience had not lasted over two hours. Both “ Johnny” and the Kiangsi had discovered my absence after they had been on the trail a short time, but, thinking I would look for me—with what providential success their opportune arrival showed. The next morning I had sufficiently recovered from my exciting experience to start on the return journey to Nha-ha-hi-wan, where, without any further adventures, we foregathered on the fourth day. The gluttonous nature of the Tibetans could not view with unconcern the fact that we had returned empty-handed, and when, in turn, “ Johnny” related my experience with the “demon yak” to the grumbling group, there were many shakings of heads. One old lama croaked forth sagely: “It is the anger of the gods; I told you so, for no man can hunt when the spirits forbid”—which unanswerable logic was received with many nods of approval.

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A Race With a Lava- Flow. By May RotHweLt, or Honotutu, Hawatan IsLanps. Being an account of a thrilling flight for life from a rapid-flowing river of molten lava. “All the events detailed actually occurred as stated,” writes the authoress; ‘the facts are given in the Honolulu newspapers of the period.” URING the year 1868 the southern districts of the Island of Hawaii were visited by a series of earthquakes Z| that lasted for ten or twelve days. ~ At first they were mere tremors, but each day the quaking grew in depth and strength until it seemed to the perturbed inhabitants of the locality that the whole world must be quivering. Some way up the south-western slope of the beautiful, snow-crowned mountain of Mauna Loa was situated an extensive cattle ranch owned by my grandfather, Captain Robert Brown, a retired whaler. The green acres stretched away in all directions from the low ranch house, over rolling plains and wooded hills. One evening the sun was slowly setting behind the vast shoulder of the mountain, and the sea, three or four miles away, lay like a great mirror reflecting the tranquil sky. Within the farmhouse the busy mother was tucking the tired little ones into their beds. ‘Lie still, Susie,” she commanded; “go to sleep. ‘The ‘shaky-shakies’ won’t hurt you; the house is strong and mother is near you all the time. Jimmy, don’t pull Willie’s toes! Good night.” And she left them alone. Passing along a wide veranda she entered a large living-room, where the older members of the family were seated around a table of generous dimensions. “Come, mother,” said a tall girl of fourteen, “we are waiting for you. Dinner—such as it is—is ready. But, really, it is not a very poor meal, considering. that it was cooked out of doors with the four winds of heaven to, blow the smoke into everything. Why, mother, what is the trouble?” she concluded, starting up hastily, while the other children looked anxiously in her direction. “Nothing, dears,” replied Mrs. Brown, sink- ing into a chair wearily; “I’m only nervous. I—I think I’m tired of these earthquakes. They are getting heavier all the time. ‘There isn’t a stone wall left standing ; and because of that, your father says, all the cattle and horses are out of the corrals and are wandering away.” “Oh, never mind, mother, if they are,” replied Vol. xvii, 41. Katie. “The native boys can drive them in as soon as the walls are rebuilt.” She glanced out of the window at the distant pastures, dotted with straying stock. ) “Yes, I know ; but suppose we should need the horses suddenly ? In case of a lava-flow we might have to fly for our lives.” “Oh, the idea, mother! As if the lava would come near us, even if it should break out in this part of the country!” laughed the girl. “We sha'n’t need the horses, so don’t worry. Come, now, and have your dinner. Here is father ; I'll run out and make the tea. Don’t wait for me; the stove burns so poorly that it will no doubt be some time before the kettle boils.” With that she tripped lightly out of the house. As the girl approached the stove—which had been removed from the kitchen, where there was danger of its being upset during a severe earth-tremor and setting fire to the house—an old native woman straightened her bent shoulders and lifted her wrinkled face. Seated upon the ground, she had been feeding the fire with bits of dry chips. The stove, apparently indignant at the treatment that had been accorded it, sullenly smoked at every pore. “What’s the matter, Lia?” laughed Kate, as she drew the big iron kettle forward and stirred up the fire. ‘“ Are your poor eyes smarting? Well, you can go now; I will take care of the fire. Go and get dinner for yourself and the old man.” She spoke in Hawaiian, for the old woman understood no English. Just then, from the direction of the mountain, came a deep rumble that grew swiftly into a roar. A violent quivering seemed to agitate the solid earth, the old woman was hurled to the ground, and even Katie lost her balance as the sickening wave of motion passed beneath them. The startled girl saw the house totter and the tall eucalyptus trees reel until their slender tops snapped against the evening sky. .From the house there came the screams of frightened children and the crashing of falling crockery. Katie lay still, dazed and nauseated, even when the terrible quake was gone, dying away with a decreasing roar and rumble.

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322 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “ Awue, awue!” wailed poor old Lia, as she slowly picked herself up. “It’s Pele!* She's angry with us!” She hastened off to her little grass hut, in the doorway of which her ancient husband sat shak- ing his white head drearily. Kate watched the frightened animals run- ning about the fields snorting, with heads turning from side to side. They could not understand whence came the strange horror that bore the earth away from beneath their feet. Then, the water having at last boiled, the girl filled the tea-pot and set the great kettle on the ground, going quickly back into the house. “Well, Kate,” remarked her father, as she entered the room, “that was a big one, wasn’t it? I guess Madame Pele is going to try to keep us awake to-night, eh?” and he laughed cheerfully. “IT don’t mean that she shall keep me awake,” retorted the girl, lightly. ‘She will have to do something more than shake if that is to be accomplished.” Again—as though in answer to her words— there came that dreadful roar, followed by the soul-sickening jar. The table danced, the house pitched like a ship at sea, and all was confusion for a moment. They finished the meal as well as they could, * Goddess of volcanoes. “THE OLD WOMAN WAS HURLED TO THE GROUND.” for the shocks were becoming closer together all the time. Pale and somewhat weary they at length repaired to the veranda, where the father lit his pipe and, between the shocks, told soothing tales of the sea to the younger boys and girls. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees. Heavy banks of cloud were pressing against the mountain tops, while occasionally strange mutterings seemed to echo beneath the earth. At times subterranean explosions were distinctly felt, and the ground heaved with the imprisoned forces that were struggling to find an outlet. Rustlings and lappings could also be dis- tinguished when the ear was laid upon the earth. Then, as unexpectedly as before, a wave of motion struck the house. The wiry wooden structure leapt and swayed, groaning as if in agony, then settled back again upon its stout foun- dations, while the inmates picked themselves up in the darkness—for the lan- terns had been upset and extinguished — and com- forted each other while they searched for matches to re- light the lamps. Out in the fields the horses snorted in terror and the cows lowed wildly to their stray- ing calves. : Suddenly a great flare of light shot up from a spot on the mountain side, drawing all eyes towards it, and a strange, un- earthly sound—a sound, perhaps, that a thousand immense coffee-mills all grinding together might possibly make— fell upon their startled ears. “Tis Pele!” quavered old Lia, from her doorway. “ Yes,” spoke up the horrified Captain Brown. “She is right; it’s the lava, and it will come tight down this way! We must get out of this !” Rising to his feet he called loudly to the cattle boys, who were housed near by. They came running, for they also had seen that fiery torch flung out on the black hillside. Snatching the younger children from their warm beds, the agitated parents hastily wrapped them in blankets and handed them to the natives, bidding the latter to run for a high stretch of land thatseemed_to_ promise safety. Taking the! eight-months-old' baby in his own

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A RACE WITH A LAVA-FLOW. 323 tender arms, the father marshalled the rest of the family out into the night. Again that strange, terrifying sound smote upon their ears, and a vivid light lit the land- scape for miles around. Great tongues of flame shot up to the black cloud-canopy aloft, and with straining eyes the watchers saw that fiery streams of lava were already making their way down the mountain from a great split in its side. Some dire internal force seemed to be vomit- ing forth a lurid molten tide, but there were no more earthquakes. ‘The labouring mountain had at last found relief. “Oh, come quick!” cried the agonized we OH, COME QUICK!" CRIRD THE AGONTZED MOTHER, ‘WE MUST HURRY TO THE HILL.” mother. ‘We must hurry to the hill. See how fast the lava is flowing! Let me take baby.” “No, no; I have her safe and warm,” replied her husband ; “but where is Kate? Kate!” he called, anxiously, as he stumbled along in the rear. “Here I am, father!” answered the girl; “but oh! what shall Ido? Lia will not come with me, and neither will the old man. I ran to help them, but they won’t stir. Oh, do go and make them come with us.” Fora moment Captain Brown, responsible for so many lives, hesitated. He glanced back at the hut and then up at the flow. Telling the others to hurry on, he turned and ran to where the old woman crouched in her doorway. Kate, at his heels, gave an apprehensive look towards the lighted mountain. “Come, come, silly woman!” he shouted ; “ why don’t you get up and run? Look, Pele is almost upon you!” With his free hand he tried to drag the old crone to her feet. “Get up and run, old man,” he added, sternly, to her husband. “There is much dar here !” “No, no.” The ancient Hawaiian shook his snow-white head. ‘ No, I am too lame to run; and if Pele wants us she can follow. It is of no use to try to escape. And she wants us! See, she is coming to get us!” He pointed towards the onrushing flood of molten fire with a lean, trembling finger, but his face showed little concern. “ But you,” he» added,/ “ you must go!

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324 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Hasten, for you have with you the babe and the young child-woman.. They must be saved. Go, for soon it will be too late!” And he settled back upon his couch, his eyes fixed in awe upon the lurid stream that every instant swept nearer. Just at that moment the voices of the distracted mother and sisters could be heard calling from the distance. “Oh,” sobbed Kate, “this is too awful! You must cone!” And she stamped her foot at the stoical old couple. “We can’t waste any more time over them, Kate,” said her father. “We must go. I have the baby, you know!” With a shout to his now frantic wife he sped away, hurling back a command to the girl to follow. “Lia! Lia! Oh, do come! I can't go and leave you!” cried Kate, wringing her hands in agony. “No, I will not leave the old man. He is too feeble to run, and if Pele wants us it will be foolish to try to escape. But ”— and, the aged, wrinkled face cleared ; the old eyes sought the sweet heavens, star-studded, that arched above the horrid glare of the vol- cano—“ but per- haps the great Akua (God) will protect us from Pele’s wrath. Go!” she com- manded, _push- ing the girl from the threshold, “go to your people; they are calling. The old man and I will remain, and to- gether we will pray to Akua, who dwells in the wide skies, to save us from Pele!” With that she closed and barred the door. It was useless to tarry longer, and Kate turned and ran, answer- ing the cries of her “THE FUGITIVES STRUGGLED ONWARDS, TRRROR LENDING THEM STRENGTH, sisters. Across the level they fled, while nearer and nearer came the awful river of fire, spreading over the slope. Soon they were all together, running for their lives—the tall native men with the frightened little ones in their strong arms, the older girls with blanched faces, and the poor mother trying her best to keep up her courage. Panting for breath they hurried along. Some distance ahead lay their goal, a low hill upon which they trusted to find a refuge. At last the foot of the hill was reached. They were half-way up when, deeming themselves safe, they flung themselves down, panting, on the cool grass. A shout of terror from one of the natives who was in advance, however, started them to their feet again. “See! see!” he cried, pointing wildly to the slope ; “it is coming round on the other side of the hill! We must go over to the next, for this will soon be an island, with hot lava all round it!” He plunged downward, followed by the rest of the party. Down into the narrow ravine that lay between the hills they went. Even as they reached it the awful cata- ract poured round the bend, its fiery tongues licking up the grass, while lurid flames flashed up the trees in its path. Sull the fugitives struggled on- wards, terror lending them strength. The mother was al- most fainting, but the father had his strong arm about her, and continually breathed words of encourage- ment. Dense volumes of sulphurous vapour, borne by the air cur- rent, continu ally swept over the fugi- tives, threat- ening to stifle

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A RACE WITH them. Every now and again scattered droves of cattle and horses galloped nmdly by, with wide- staring, terrified eyes. Too foolish and bewil- dered to turn to the hills, they.thundered away hike leaves before a wind-storm. Presently the heat grew unbearable beneath the pressing smoke-clouds, and, as the little party staggered painfully forward, out of the gloom leaped the great black and crimson flood, almost upon them: One moment of sickening terror, and then—thank Heaven !— the base of the slope was reached. Trembling in every limb they scrambled up its welcome side, safe at last, while the awful lava-river swept onwards, carrying death and destruction down the valley. Soon a new danger threatened the now home- less wanderers, in the form of grass-fires that swept quickly upon them from the flank of the molten flow. There was no time to rest ; they must push on. Thinking it best to reach the nearest village as soon as possible, Captain Brown urged the little band forward, cheering them at every step. By and by a_ breeze sprang up, which drove back the smoke and flames, so that they were able to continue at a more comfortable pace. For several miles the narrow trail which they had been following led over the open country, but presently it joined the Government road, a narrow but well-defined thorough- fare. This, they knew, would take them to the village some seven or eight miles farther on. Up to this time the light from the forest fires and from the lava- flow itself had made travelling easy, but now the road wound around the foot of a large hill, and the distant mountain with the cascades of lava still spurt- ing from its riven side, and the long, lurid streams trailing down to the ocean’s verge, passed from view.. Although the reflected glow in the sky gave light enough to enable the travellers to find their path in the open roadway, when they passed within the occasional groves of trees progress became more difficult, especially as the road for some distance now lay between ancient beds of lava, that had been heaped and tumbled upon the land by some prehistoric convulsion of Nature. Presently the native men who were in advance stopped, stumbling about in the darkness. “ Awue !” exclaimed one, in a tone of irrita- tion, speaking in his own language. ‘‘ What’s A LAVA-FLOW. 325 the matter with the road? I think I must be foolish. I cannot see anything but stones, stones, everywhere I step.” “What’s the trouble, Kapu?” father from the rear. “JT don’t know,” the fellow answered, in a puzzled tone. ‘But the road, I cannot find him; he is lose.” “Come, boys, move ahead,” urged Captain Brown, somewhat irritated at the delay. Hand- called the ing the baby to his wife, he stepped among the ‘WE STRODE TO THE FRONT, ONLY TO TRIP ANU PALL A GA JUMBLE OF SHARP ROCKS.” men, who were halting irresolutely and con- versing in low tones with one another. As he approached he caught the words, “ Pele,” “Trap,” and “ All die,” uttered in Hawaiian. Quickly he strode to the front, only to trip and fall among a jumble of sharp rocks. Rising, he stumbled about for some time, but becoming at “last convinced that the road did really end in a huge heap of stones, he gaye up trying to go forward, On, three, sides (of (them lay the old lava-beds, quite impassable in the darkness.

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326 THE WIDE There seemed nothing to do but sit down and wait for daylight to come and disclose what had happened to the thoroughfare. It had been open and clear only three days before, for Captain Brown had made a trip on horseback to the village. ‘The hill was too far away for a landslip, had one occurred during the earth- quakes, to have reached this spot. Presently one of the natives scrambled off over the high bank. In the dim light his sprawling figure was outlined for a moment against the sky, then only the sound that his booted feet made as he clambered down on the other side came to those who were left in the road, “T got that road again now,” came back the triumphant call. “He think he goin’ hide from me, I think, but I catch him, you bet !” Then the big fellow came scrambling back over the stone-heap. Taking a child in his strong arms, he motioned to the party to follow him. “We get to town all right now,” he said, cheerfully. After a difficult passage over the uneven lava- bed they came suddenly down on to the level road again, stretched away into the darkness as serenely as if it had never done anything astonishing at all. This delay over, the wanderers proceeded without further mishap, and towards morning arrived at the little village, where they were received with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, who turned out to a man to com- fort and succour the weary travellers. Following a day or so of rest my grandfather decided to visit the ruined ranch, and Kate begged to accompany him. “Please take me with you, father,” she pleaded ; “I feel as if 1 must go. I want to —-to mark the spot where pvor old Lia—is— was——” Her voice failed, and she bent her head and sobbed. “Good gracious!” exclaimed her father. “Do you think I'll take you out there if you are going to cry all the way ?” “T won't do it any more, indeed I won't. And mother says I may go.” “Well, go and get ready, then.” Mounting a couple of borrowed horses— Kate riding astride in the Hawaiian style, eminently suited for the rough country—the two set out soon after breakfast. ‘he air was still thick and heavy with volcanic smoke, and the sun glared angrily through its yellow folds. ‘The horses were urged into a canter, and after about three-quarters of an hour’s hard going were reined in before the same barrier that had caused such unpleasantness on that terrible night. Having now the daylight to help WORLD MAGAZINE. them, Captain Brown and his daughter soon made an astonishing discovery. From as far in both directions as they could see—on the upper side of the road to a spot where the forests hid it, and on the lower where the land dropped down into the sea—stretched a line, marked throughout its length by freshly broken earth and upheaved rock. It looked—as indeed proved to have been the case—as if part of the island had become loosened during one of the terrific earthquakes, and had slipped along sea- ward, turning up the soil and stones as it passed. When measured, the distance between the lower edge of one part of the separated road and the vrver edge of the other was found to be exactly twenty-five feet ! With some difficulty the horses were piloted around into the smooth highway and the journey was continued. As they proceeded the smoke became denser. They also encountered herds of cattle wandering about in search of water and unburnt pasturage. Presently they saw before them a great black, coiling monster. Peering through the smoke- clouds they discovered it to be the flow that had threatened their destruction on that memor- able night. Dismounting, they secured their horses to a tree that had been spared by the fire, and cautiously approached the lava. As very little heat seemed to come from it they drew closer, and the father laid his hand upon a protruding mass. It was still warm, but not unpleasantly so. “If we run,” said he, “J think our shoes will come to no harm,” He stepped upon the flow and quickly strode across. Kate followed, at a quicker pace, however, for her soles were rather thin for such walking. Once over, they set out across the now barren pasture, and soon arrived at the edge of the main flow. ‘This, in places, was still very hot. Steam and sulphurous vapours still rose in places, and here and there, within deep cracks, glowed the fiery, red-hot lava. “Let us follow down until we come opposite where the houses stood,” said Kate. “ Yes,” responded her father. “I was in hopes all would not be destroyed, but I very much fear that nothing is left. In fact, nothing could be saved from such a flood.” He sighed sadly and wearily, then they moved along—at a com- fortable distance from the flow, however. Huge clouds of smoke bore down upon them, so that they were nearly blinded and choked, but neither the man nor the girl would turn back until they had thoroughly surveyed the scene. “ Father,” exclaimed “Kate, suddenly, “ what is that—that grey ‘spot-over there in the smoke ?

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A RACE WITH A LAVA-FLOW. 327 Oh, what is it?” forward, calling, “Lia! Lia! Lia’s grass hut!” A whiff of wind sweeping the smoke away disclosed the little hut, and in its opened door- way stood the old woman. Her wrinkled face And the excited girl ran Oh, father, it is stream, was upon us, God struck His staff into the earth —there”—she pointed to the spot where the flow divided and, sweeping widely, had left the little hut unharmed —- “and Pele could not come nearer. Her anger was great. She blew her hot breath at us, but save for much “THE EXCITED GIRL RAN FORWARD, CALLING, ‘LIA! LIA !'” was drawn and ghastly, but she smiled a happy welcome to the girl; and Kate, regardless of thin soles, dashed across the lava and reached the untouched space that surrounded the tiny dwelling. “Oh, Lia,” gasped the girl, as she held the old woman in a tender embrace, “how did it happen that the lava did not come over you? The ground is no higher here than it is else- where.” | “ Ah,” responded Lia, with a slow shake of her grizzled head, “it is not all clear. Much suffering has come to me and the old man. But in that awful time, when Pele, with her fiery suffering, as I say, we were not hurt. great Akua is good !” Presently, hunting about, Kate found the big tea-kettle, half full of cooled lava, some of which, in a hard, unbreakable pendant, was hanging from the spout. ‘Then the whole party returned to the village, Lia and her feeble husband séated on the horses. The danger for the present was over — the volcano was quiet again. But for a long time afterwards Kate and her mother would awake trembling, having dreamed that the eruption was in full swing again and that fiery flood hard at their heels. Ah, the

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ALLIGATOR - FARMING. “THE STRANGEST INDUSTRY ON EARTH.” By FRrRepeRICK A. ‘TaLror. Owing to the increasing demand for his hide, the American alligator is rapidly being exterminated. An enterprising native of Arkansas accordingly hit upon the novel idea of breeding alligators for the market. To this end he has established an alligator-farm, where hundreds of the saurians, ranging in size from babies just hatched to fifteen-foot patriarchs, may be seen and purchased. In this article Mr. Talbot describes and illustrates every phase of this unique industry. WING to the depredations of the hunter, the alligator in the Southern United States is rapidly being exter- minated, and like another member of the brute creation, the bison of the prairies, will in a few years necessitate the protection of a paternal Government to preserve it from extinction. Until a few years ago alli- gator-hunting was regarded purely as a sport, since this game affords that excitement and possibility of adventure so cherished by the true sportsman, but the heavy demand that has. now developed for the’ skin of the alligator for the satisfaction of human foibles has resulted in wanton and wholesale destruction. ‘lhe mag- nitude of the industrial demand for the creature may be adequately realized from the fact that in a single decade, from 1890 to 1900, accord- ing to the United States ish Commission, no fewer than three million alligators were killed in the State of Florida alone; and although it is unusually fecund, the progress of destruction has more than outdistanced the multiplicity of Nature, with the result that the alligator is rapidly becoming extinct, and, unless the Government intervenes, in the course of a few years will be known no more, at least in its natural haunts. This indisputable fact is borne out by the constant increase in price for the raw hides and the diligence shown by enterprising manu- facturers in reproducing the characteristics of the skin in commoner materials. ‘Though the spurious article is ingeniously counterfeit, yet it cannot compare with the genuine substance either in wear or appearance. The teeth are eagerly sought after for the fashioning of quaint and dainty pieces of jewellery, and consequently easily realize high prices, ranging from ten shillings upwards per pound. Furthermore, it is only the more mature and larger grown animals that are of any value to the commercial hunter; and when it is remembered that an alligator two feet in length is at least fifteen years of age, while one twelve feet in length may be anything from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty years old, it will be realized that if the present rate of slaughter is maintained for a few years the capture of a full-grown specimen, whose hide is worth the danger of obtaining it, will be worth its weight in gold. This circumstance was realized by Mr. H. I. Campbell, a well-known alligator-hunting sports- man, together with the fact that eventually the Government must step in and, by protecting the alligator, prohibit its destruction in precisely the same manner as the few surviving bison of the prairies have been preserved. Such pro- tection, obviously, would deal a heavy blow to the leather and other industries. Mr, Campbell thereupon resolved to cultivate the animal by artificial and scientific methods, and for this purpose established some three years ago a farm for the propagation of the alligator for com- mercial purposes—surely the strangest industry on earth. ‘The place he selected was an ideal one for his quaint business, which, needless to say, is without a rival in any part of the world. ‘The “farm” is located in the warm climate of Arkansas, where the natural and climatic con- ditions are highly favourable to the successful raising of the saurians. ‘The instant success that attended Mr. Campbell's efforts has enabled him to extend the farm until now it has attained extensive proportions, covering several acres, there being always trom five hundred to eight hundred alligators in stock, The demand ex- ceeds the supply, and the constant rise in the

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ALLIGATOR-FARMING. 329 A GENERAL VIEW OF THE STOCKYARD, WHERE FROM FIVE TO EIGHT HUNDRED ALLIGATORS ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE. From a Photo. price of the hides and teeth, as well as the animals themselves for menagerie and advertising purposes, combined with the steady increase in price as the supply from the natural sources in the Southern States becomes scarcer, has rendered the enterprise a highly profitable undertaking, and in the near future the rearing of alligators upon an artificial scale promises to become an extensive and flourishing industry. The farm is within easy reach of the favourite health resort of Hot Springs, and is built upon the banks of a small mountain stream, which in its ‘course has formed a number of little lakes and ponds which constitute ideal breeding and stock grounds for the farm. Here may be seen in profusion alligators of all sizes, ranging from huge monsters twelve feet or more in length to little babies just hatched out from the eggs and scarcely larger than lizards. Mr. Campbell has lived, moved, and had his being among these reptiles all his life, his home having been in the centre of the alligator country, both on the banks of the Indian Ganges and in America. Consequently he has become intimately familiarized with the reptile’s peculiar characteristics, its nesting-places, and the best and easiest methods of trapping with- out inflicting any injury or deteriorating the prey’s value. Under these circumstances he is able to attend to them with the same facility Vol. xvii.—42. and knowledge as a herder tends his flocks of sheep, knowing when and how to handle them. The large specimens at the farm have been caught in the swamps and bayous in the Southern States, either by Mr. Campbell himself or ex- perienced and skilful hunters, who can always dispose of their catches to this “farmer” at a satisfactory price. To the majority of trappers the alligator is of greater value when dead for its skin and teeth, but the hunters in the service of Mr. Campbell know that they can realize far more for live, uninjured saurians. Owing to the extent of this farmer's output it is essential, in order to be able to cope with the industrial Gemand, that his stock of mature alligators should be constantly replenished. Therefore Mr. Campbell and these hunters make periodical excursions to the native haunts of the alligator in the pursuit of both eggs and specimens, which, upon arrival at the farm, are deposited in their appointed enclosures. The chain of lakelets formed by the mountain stream are admirably suited to the division of the creatures into sizes. This is more important than one might think, for, if this classification were not carried out, owing to the cannibalistic tendencies of the saurian the stocks would be quickly depleted. ‘Therefore the youngsters are accommodated in one lake, those a little older in another, and ‘so. on, according to their size

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| 330 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. nest with thirty eggs left in it, the others having hatched. I secured twelve of the babies and carried off the remaining eggs. These I placed in a box, covered them with the materials the nest was made of—leaves, mud, and moss—and took them to the hotel. I went away for some ten days, and when I returned to the hotel I found eight little ’gators walking about my room. “The next day I returned to my farm, three more having hatched out meanwhile. When I arrived home the weather was cold, so I placed the eggs in a warm box and waited developments. —_ Nothing ‘occurred for a week. Then the weather became somewhat warmer with bright sun- shine, in which I placed the eggs during the day, removing them to an enclosure at night. Sure enough, in three or four days the remaining eggs were duly hatched.” The owner’s intimate knowledge of the characteristics of the saurian has stood him in good stead in the prosecution of his unique industry, especially in the breed- ing and rearing of the youngsters, which require incessant vigilance, and he has been able to assist natural developments THE “ BADIES' QUARTERS." —IT 18 NECESSARY To SoRT THE sizes our veRY by the employment of artificial means CAREFULLY, OTHERWISE THE (HG ‘GATORS WOULD EAT , A PIFTEEN-FOOT MONSTER ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YEARS OLD. Louisiana and found a From a Photo,

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ALLIGATOR-FARMING. 331 “business would have to be suspended for six months out of the twelve.” To circumvent this instinct, winter quarters, comprising a long, low building divided into a number of compart- ments, have been erected over a series of small, shallow pools. ‘Through the latter extend a number of steam pipes, and by this means the water, is maintained at an even temperature all through the winter months. In this tepid water the saurians float dormant, and can be removed as the exigencies of trade demand. During this period they partake of no food, no matter how appetizing the morsels placed before their noses may be, and can be handled with facility and perfect safety. The only time throughout the year when alligators become highly dangerous is during the month of June. Then they bellow like enraged bulls, converting the farm into a_ veritable the heat of thesun. During the period of incuba- tion she is exceedingly savage, attacking with- out hesitation everything that approaches the vicinity of the nest. Many hunters can testify to the unwonted ferocity of the reptile during this nesting period, having been severely bitten through venturing too near an unsuspected nest. Exactly how long incubation occupies is not known, there being considerable divergence of opinion upon this point; and even Mr. Campbell, despite his scientific and artificial raising of the animals, cannot vouchsafe any reliable information upon the subject. Appar- ently it is intluenced to no mean degree by climatic conditions, since if the weather is un- settled the period occupied in hatching is con- siderably longer than if continuous sunshine prevails. Curiously enough, although the mother is From a) pandemonium, and the males are exceedingly vicious. They fight like demons, and great care has to be exercised to prevent them seriously injuring one another and thereby depreciating their value. In the following month the female commences nesting. At this farm there are several natural breeding spots, cunningly secluded so as to conduce to fruitful laying. The female fashions her nest by scraping together with her hind feet a pile of rubbish, comprising rushes, sticks, reeds, and mud. On this heterogeneous collection she deposits from thirty to sixty eggs, which are similar in shape to the ordinary duck’s egg, and about two and a half inches in length. The mother then scratches a thin layer of rub- bish over the eggs, completely concealing them, and stands on guard until they are hatched by A NATURAL NEST JUST HATCHED OUT. [Photo unusually ferocious during incubation, directly the shells break and the youngsters appear she evidently regards her responsibility as completed, for she immediately leaves the little ’gators to shift for themselves, and is by no means per- turbed if they are approached or handled. When hatched the alligators are about the same size as a lizard and almost as lively. At this juncture the young have to be removed, otherwise they would fall victims to the full- grown members of the species, since the saurian is an out-and-out cannibal. The babies are placed in an enclosure specially reserved for them, and, being of identical size, no loss need be apprehended from their preying upon one another. The youngsters are exceptionally hardy, and;) beyond), regular feeding for the first

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332 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. few days, require no further attention ; they are apparently immune from disease. In order to expedite and increase his output, however, this enterprising alligator-farmer has resorted to artificial methods of hatching. The incubator utilized for the purpose is of the type employed for raising chickens, though of much greater dimensions and possessing several modi- fications in design. irectly the female has completed laying, the nests are robbed and the eggs placed in the incubator. They are de- posited in large trays, forty-five eggs being accommodated in each, and are covered with straw, which is moistened every day. The tem- perature 1s maintained to eighty degrees until the egys are hatched. The little creatures are then carefully nursed and fed for a few days, and subsequently turned into the babies’ en- closure. By the adoption of the incubator methods the hatching of the eggs has been greatly simplified, while all uncertainty in hatch- ing is very appreciably reduced. The percentage of waste meat, unsuitable for human consump- tion, which is dispatched from the great packing yards, accompanied by such dainties as chickens, pigeons, and other fowl, which, it may be men- tioned, are killed before serving. In the case of the babies, they are sustained during the early days after hatching on scraps of beef. Despite the increasing yearly output of this farm and the continual extensions that are being carried out, the supply is still by no means equal to the demand. ‘The purposes for which the saurians are required are most varied in character. Not only are the skins and teeth greatly prized, realising high market prices, but there is an extensive trade in live specimens. The more mature creatures are required for menageries and zoological gardens in all parts of the world, but the greatest demand is for baby *gators not more than six inches in length, many hundreds of which are sold every year. ‘The greater majority are purchased as pets by fashion- able ladies, five shillings being ‘the average price. A BROOD AFTEK REMOVAL FROM THE INCUBATOR From a) of eggs which fail to incubate is a negligible quantity, so that loss from this cause is infini- tesimal, which is a fortunate circumstance, seeing that the eggs are valued at twenty shillings per dozen. Fortunately the alligator is an inexpensive creature to maintain, and his digestive organs are such that no fastidiousness has to be dis- played in the preparation of his meals. The reptile is essentially a scavenger, and one good square meal weekly is sufficient for his neces- sities. “Feeding time at this alligator farm is the Arkansas replica of the lions’ feast at our Zoological Gardens. It is carried out at a . Specified time on Sunday afternoon, and the population of Hot Springs hies to the ponds to witness the strange spectacle. ‘Ihe compounds being enclosed in wire netting, and the creatures having a large area of the banks on which to bask in the sunshine, a good view of the feast is obtained. ‘The menu consists for the-most part ‘WHEN HATCHED THEY ARE ABOUT THE SAME SIZE AS A LIZARD AND ALMOST AS LIVELY.” There are very few visitors to the farm who fail to depart without investing in a baby, and as the farm constitutes one of the “lions” of the district an appreciable number are disposed of in this way. A large percentage is also sold for stocking private aquariums. Some of the purposes to which the saurians are devoted are exceedingly curious. Parks and summer hotels utilize them as amusements for _their guests, or as advertising attractions, especi- ally if a large specimen some six or eight feet in length can be procured. The middle-sized animals, ranging from twenty-four to thirty inches in length, are procured by saloon keepers, who display them in their windows or place them on the counters for the delectation of customers. A large proportion are disposed of for advertising purposes to various firms who desire to arrest the attention of the public to some particular speciality, in /a.striking manner. For this work ‘also ‘a larger reptile is occasionally

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ALLIGATOR-FARMING, 333 procured, the advertisement being indelibly and boldly printed upon its corrugated back, and it is then turned loose to roam at will in some enclosure, where all that pass may see. It was only a short time ago that a large proprietary company purchased one hundred middle-grown *gators. ‘The speciality was duly imprinted on the backs of the creatures, and a specimen was placed in the windows of each of their one hundred shops in Califurnia. Naturally the sight of the creature promenading the window proved a veritable magnet, and crowds surged round to watch its antics. When the novelty of the spectacle had somewhat worn off, the saurians were transported to another State and the performance repeated, all the States being visited in turn. In regard to the dead specimens, a flourishing that he has been among them practically all his life and has made them a close study, he does not conceal his disgust for them. “ They are most treacherous and cannot be trusted,” he says ; and for this reason, as he moves among them, he keeps his eyes open for the slightest sign of a movement of their capacious jaws or powerful tails. ‘ You might pass an apparently dormant alligator without his noticing you ninety-nine times, and yet on the hundredth occasion, especially if you were not watching him, he would make a vicious snap at you. What happens if he secures a hold? Well, it is no joke, for he never lets go. ‘Talk about the tenacity of a bulldog or a turtle! Why, it is nothing in comparison with the way in which an alligator hangs on!” The contempt with which Mr. Campbell “ALLIGATOR JOE,” THE PROPRIETOR OF THE FARM, WITH SC From a) trade has developed. in alligator furniture, the stuffed creatures being cunningly and deftly fashioned into a number of quaint articles, or arranged in novel and striking attitudes for decorative effects. The teeth are also manu- factured into fantastic and bizarre ornaments and odd knick-knacks of jewellery. The tending of these unwieldy creatures is decidedly _ dangerous and exhilarating. Mr. Campbell, however, walks among them without any fear, though he maintains a constant vigilance. He states that he can only control them by means of a hypnotizing effect which he is able to produce. Apparently he is by no means afraid of them, and remarks that, though their teeth are certainly formidable, their tails are the worst weapon, a blow from a mature alligator being sufficiently powerful to knock a man senseless to the ground. Despite the fact HYPNOTIZING EFFECT UPON THEM, HIS SPRCIMENS—HE CLAIMS TO EXERCISE A ({ Photo, regards the brutes is adequately shown by the way in which he handles even the largest members on his farm, and he thinks nothing of catching hold of them by the jaws, closed between his fingers, and hauling them out of the water by pure physical force. Even the veteran “Old Joe,” despite his six hundred pounds’ weight and his sledge-hammer tail, is perfectly tractable in his hands. Mr. Campbell has succeeded in training four of the larger brutes, each measuring some eight feet in length, to provide an unusual amusement for visitors to the farm by sliding. down a chute some eighteen feet in height. The top of the structure is gained by the unwieldy creatures ambling up an inclined pathway, which is ribbed at frequent intervals by transverse pieces of wood, so as to enable them to gain a foothold. When the top is gained, at the word of command

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334 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THIS UNIQUE PICTURE, SPECIAILY TAKEN FOR THIS ARTICLE, SHOWS ONE OF MR, CAMPBELL'S ALLIGATORS CHUTK"~THR FIRST SAUKIAN KVEK TRAINED TO PERFORM THE FEAT. From a) the alligators put their feet together and gravely slide down the opposite side for some thirty feet into the water. ‘Shooting the chutes” has been performed by a number of different members of the brute creation, but Mr. Campbell is the first man to train an alligator, whose bump of intelligence is so small as to be practically non-existent, to successfully per- form the feat. In tatking about his unique industry Mr. Campbell, or, to quote his local patronymic, “ Alligator Joe,” concedes that alligators “are highly interesting creatures, their shortcomings SHOOTING THE (Photo, —which are numerous—notwithstanding. They are not difficult to raise ; they never suffer from want of food, being able to fast for a month or two quite comfortably. ‘They never experience any ill-effects from lack of proper exercise, and are not particular about their surroundings, being able to thrive in the most poorly-ventilated sleeping quarters.” Though quite a new rami- fication of industrial enterprise, alligator-farming is yet a lucrative one, owing to the growing demand for the skin for a variety of purposes, and the steady though increasing trade in live specimens.

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whom they had selected as their victim. ) Berl Wert 3. The “sharps” were professional gamblers, the “ flat’”’ a wealthy but unsuspecting young Englishman Everything was going very nicely for the trio of rascals when the well-known conjurer, pitying the youngster’s plight, took a hand in the game. Then came some sensational play, winding up with the utter discomfiture of the ‘‘ sharps.” ) FEW years ago I went out to ANG America to fulfil an engagement, i leaving England by the well-known PTS } liner Crty of Rome. It was in ™ the summer-time—if I remember rightly, the month was June—and the weather was glorious. Amidst the motley, kaleidoscopic gathering to be seen upon the promenade deck of the City of Rome, a day or two after we had left England, was a group of four men, in whom I took more than usual interest. All were well and fashion- ably dressed, but varied considerably in age and personal aspect. One, whose age I surmised to be about five-and-thirty, was tall and slim, with jet-black, closely-cut hair and small black moustache ; his face was slightly bronzed, he had a long, thin nose, and a pair of small, shifty, piercing brown eyes. Altogether this man’s manner and appearance gave me a most unfavourable impression. Another member of the group was a short, stoutish man, wearing a navy-blue suit, who appeared to be a trifle younger than the tall man. He had a dark brown beard, neatly - trimmed, and a moustache curled at the ends. He also was closely cropped, had a somewhat pallid face, shaggy brows, and deep-set eyes in which there lurked an ever-present gleam of cunning. The third member of the party was a man considerably older than either of the others, and having iron-grey hair. He was also tall, with a clean-shaven face and tightly-com- pressed lips. The fourth man was quite young, a mere youth, with light flaxen hair and a pale, beardless face. He was obviously of gentle birth, but possessed a face of much weakness. This young man was evidently the centre of interest ; the other three men seemed united in endeavouring to impress him, and I noticed that from time to time they favoured him and each other with furtive glances. It was the contrast between this irresolute- looking youth and his companions which first attracted my attention—the boy reminded me of a dove in a nest of hawks. I concluded that his three hangers-on were a gang of sharpers, and that the aristocratic young gentleman with whom they had apparently scraped up an acquaintance was regarded by them as a likely “pigeon.” I was aware that this kind of thing frequently occurs on some of the liners, gangs of swindlers making a practice of voyaging to and fro for that purpose alone. Although their faces are, as a rule, danger-signals to men of the world and those(capable,of reading character,

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336 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. their fashionable clothes and their ready assump- tion of culture are sufficient to delude the un- trained and inexperienced eyes of such youths as the one in question. 1 determined, there- fore, to keep an eye on these men and see what transpired. ‘I'wo of them were leaning against the rail, the others standing close by. Presently they all moved away together, and I temporarily lost sight of them. I felt sure, however, that it would not be long before cards were introduced. Sure enough, that same evening, in the smoking room, my suspicions were confirmed. As I strolled in there sat the four men, playing poker. A few passengers were looking on, and 1 approached the table and watched the play narrowly, taking care, however, not to arouse the suspicions of the gang by a too attentive scrutiny. 1 ought, perhaps, for the benefit of those of my readers who are not acquainted with this game of poker, to briefly explain it. It is essentially a gambling and a blufting game, and one usually adopted by sharpers. Five cards are dealt to each player, the players back their hands, and the best hand wins the pool. ‘That is the game, briefly stated; but a great deal depends on the formation of the hands. After the deal a player may receive fresh cards from the pack to the number of five, if by so doing be thinks he can improve his hand. If he has a bad hand altogether he may throw it away and have a new one. I should explain that the dealer has the giving out of all the fresh cards. The player next to the dealer is called the “ante,” and the player next to him has the first call. Say the cards are dealt. ‘The next player places so much in the pool, say a sovereign, and the next player may say, “I raise you a pound,” and the fourth player, “I raise you two,” making the pool four pounds. It is only in private parties, where no gambling is desired, that a limit is placed on the betting, but in the gambling game there is no limit. ‘The betting can go on as I have described, the pool constantly increasing, until all the players cease “raising,” when the cards are thrown down. ‘The bluffing comes in when a player, having a bad hand, makes it appear that he has a good one by backing it heavily, thus frightening the others. Sometimes this works, but occasionally it ends badly for the bluffer. If a player with a bad hand does not wish to bluff he may throw down his hand, although he will be liable to the pool for as much as he has staked. A player “calls” when he does not care to back his cards further; yet in spite of that he may hold the winning hand. Tt will thus be seen what a big opportunity there is in poker for the gambler and the sharper. When I arrived in the smoking-room one of the three elder men had just won a fair-sized pool. ‘The young gentleman did not appear to have won much—in fact, he had probably lost. I watched the play, getting behind the different players and examining the hands, I noticed that the young gentleman invariably got a fairly good hand—what I should call a “backable ” hand—although the others succeeded in getting a better, with the usual result. This clearly indicated to me that the cards were being manipulated, and that the young fellow was being rooked, as I suspected he would be. Indeed, I distinctly saw the tall sharper—the man with the Mephistophelean appearance — palm some of the cards. I need not explain that this did not in any way deceive me, and I saw the trick at once. It was clear that the men were designedly dealing good hands to their victim, in order to induce him to back them and so increase the pool, which in due course would fall into the hands of one of their number. If they had dealt him bad hands he would not, in all probability, have backed them, but would have thrown his hand down. The young fellow, whose name I subsequently learned, but which I naturally suppress, was very impulsive and reckless in his play. He seemed possessed of plenty of money, and was entirely unsuspecting. In fact, he was just the kind of victim these sharpers endeavour to get hold of. Like the professors of that hoary swindle the “three-card trick,” they are keen readers of human nature, and are very success- ful in the selection of “subjects.” That night the victim got up a considerable loser, but by no means crestfallen or discouraged. The others commiserated with him on his “ bad luck,” assuring him it could not last, but was bound to turn soon. The young fellow smil- ingly agreed with them. I thought it a great pity that this young man, however wealthy he might be, should be rooked in this manner, so I cast over in my mind how I could unmask these knaves. At last, after cudgelling my brains for some time, I hit upon ascheme. First of all I sought an interview with the captain of the ship, to whom I con- fided my suspicions. I referred to the affair in this manner—although there was no doubt in my own mind about it—as a precautionary measure, and in order not to be premature. One of the passengers, I told him, was being fleeced in a wholesale manner. 1 further ex- plained that I had hit upon a plan whereby I believed I should be able to get back from the . sharps their ill-gotten gains, at the same time exposing their nefarious plot. Would the captain assist me in this matter? ‘To this he cordially agreed. i

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THREE SHARPS AND A FLAT. 337 The next thing to be done was to have a chat with the young gentleman and put him on his guard. Accordingly, the next day the captain and I went in search of the young gentleman, whom we fortunately found alone in the saloon, reading. The captain introduced me to him, intimating that I had a matter of importance to discuss, and left us. We exchanged cards, and he signified his willingness to listen to anything “ THE CAPTAIN INTRODUCED ME TO HIM.” I might have to communicate. He was alto- gether very affable and pleasant-spoken, But I noticed one strong trait in his character—his self-esteem ,; and I realized that it behoved me to proceed with caution lest I offended his dignity. To tell a man that he is being swindled with his eyes wide open is a delicate matter, and is calculated to lower him some- what in his own estimation. It was absolutely necessary, however, that I should have the young fellow as a confederate, and that he should be in agreement with what I said. As it turned out, I was not far out in my judgment of him. “ Last evening,” I began, “I was a witness of your play in the smoking-room, and was much struck with your singular run of bad luck.” “Yes,” he replied, lightly, “the luck does sometimes run ina groove. ‘There is nothing singular in that. To-night it may be just the Vol. xvii.—43. F opposite. One of the others also had somewhat indifferent luck.” “The hands dealt to you,” I continued, thoughtfully, “were also curiously uniformly good.” “And I should undoubtedly have won,” he said, laughingly, “only the others had better hands!” “May I inquire—and I trust you won't regard this as an impertinence —whether the other players have been known to you very long?” I asked. “Never saw them before we met on this vessel!” came the response. “ But they seem very decent fellows.” “Ah!” I exclaimed, importing into my voice as much meaning as possible. ‘Have you any suspicion — you will perceive from my card that I should be acquainted with cards, and what it is possible to do with them— have you any suspicion, I say, that the play of your companions is not confined exclusively to the legitimate methods of poker?” “None whatever,” he answered, promptly. “I know poker well, and I am certain that they are playing straight.” “T can assure you, sir,” I said, impressively, “from my own per- sonal observation, that they were most certainly xo¢ playing straight with you, and that they won your money by trickery! I distinctly saw one of them palming the cards!” “Really,” he said, looking grave, ‘you must be mistaken! Had such been the case, I should certainly have noticed it. It is scarcely fair to accuse these men behind their backs.” “T am quite willing to accuse them to their faces,” I exclaimed, warmly, “if you will lend me your assistance. Did you not remark how singular it was that, although your hands were uniformly very good, you never won? If they had dealt you poor hands you would not have backed them, and, therefore, your contribution to the pool would have been considerably less. Believe me, sir, this matter has no personal interest for me beyond the desire to expose the cheating.” “J have no doubt, Mr. Hertz,” said he, “ that you are actuated by the best intentions, but it is possible to be over-suspicious and wrong in one’s deductions. At all events, I have promised to play to-night, and T-shall keep my word. At

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338 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the same time I will keep my eyes open for evidence of what you affirm, and will be guided entirely by the night’s play.” As it was clear to me that he was determined to play again, I refrained from any further attempt to dissuade him, feeling sure that the night’s experiences would but strengthen my hand. Well, he played, the result being practically a repetition of that which occurred on the previous night. He lost heavily again, with the same succession of good hands, and the palming went on as before. I could see that the young gentle- man, when play finished, was in possession of anything but a tranquil mind, for at this stage of the affair, I calculated, he had lost something like one thousand five hundred pounds! I moved away from the table before he got up from it, and left the smoking room, as I did not want to arouse any suspicion that there had been the slightest communication between us. The next day I sought an interview with him ina quiet part of the vessel, and one of his first observations to me was :— + “It is certainly very strange!” “Are you willing now,” I asked him, “to lend me your assistance in the scheme I ° have proposed ?” “What is the nature of the scheme?” he inquired. “First let me tell you that I am convinced that the three men you have been playing with are a gang of American card- sharpers. I first suspected this when I saw them on deck in conversation with you. It was to con- firm this suspicion that I so closely watched the play, with the results I have communicated to you. The scheme I propose is the following. You will join them as usual to-night, and I will be present, standing near you. After a little while you will become suddenly ill and ask for brandy, at the same time excusing yourself from playing any longer. You will then turn to me “OWHAT IS THE NATUKE OF THE SCHEME?! HE INQUIRED.” and ask me to take your place, consulting the others as to whether this is agreeable. ‘They are, of course, sure to consent. You can then go on deck for a breath of air, returning after a while somewhat revived. You may then watch for developments. May I rely on you to do this ?” “Yes,” he replied, readily; “if they have been swindling they deserve to be exposed.” I then instructed him to play as before, to avert suspicion, telling him that the money lost would come back to him. Next I sought out the captain, told him of my plan, and asked him to contrive to have some assistance handy, as I feared violence on the part of the sharpers. This he readily assented to, and said he would be present himself. s When the four players sat down there was quite a crowd of onlookers present. ca I stood ‘near the young gentleman, and the play pro- ceeded, with the usual result. Just as a pool had been cleared by one of the gang my young friend put his hand to his head and complained of feeling queer. The conspirators looked at one another, convey- ing the notion that they thought he was upset about his losses. Then the youngster <1 excused _ himself for leaving the table, and asked me to take his place. To this no objection was raised by the trio, and I dropped into the vacant chair. Of course, I was regarded more or less as “ pigeon” No. 2, and for some time I lost much the same as my predecessor. I noticed several of the ship’s officers present, standing near, also the captain. On my left, at the table, was the short man, on my right the elderly man, and facing me the Mephistophelean gentleman. At last the time came to act. I was dealer, and, having dealt, the player facing me “called.”

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THREE SHARPS AND A FLAT. 339 “A pound !” said he. “T raise you!” said iny right-hand neighbour, and made it two. I raised again, whereupon my left-hand neighbour made it eight, Mephisto- Pheles continuing the process and making it sixteen. And so the game went round, the stakes constantly doubling, and the pool mount- ing higher and higher. ‘The excitement was intense. I knew the others would not “call,” and therefore I kept raising the pool. Up and up it went, until it passed the aggreyate of the young gentleman’s losses, and still continued to rise. All the avail- able money of the players lay upon the table, and they had taken off their jewellery and thrown it in together with many LO U’s. Then, when I considered the time was ripe, I “called.” “I think the pool is mine!” exclaimed Mephistopheles, throwing down his cards. “ Four jacks!” “No, mine,” said my right- hand neighbour. “Four queens !” “No, it’s mine,” exclaimed my left-hand neighbour, triumphantly. ‘Four kings!” “Gentlemen,” said I, “ you are all wrong! The pool is mine. Four aces!” And 1 threw them down. There was a murmur of astonishment at this, and a growl of rage from the gang. Mephistopheles jumped to his feet, exclaiming, loudly :— “We have been cheated!” “Yes,” I said; “I have cheated the cheats!” Then, turning to the excited on- lookers, I continued : “ These men are card-sharpers, gentle- men, and have been rooking this gentleman ”—pointing to their victim, who had now returned. ‘For two nights I have been watch- ing them, and I arranged this game to expose them.” As I spoke there came a vicious curse from Mephistopheles. He whipped out a revolver and, ere I could prevent him, fired point-blank at me. But the captain had been watching him, and promptly knocked up his arm, the bullet whizzing into the ceiling, fortu- nately without doing any harm. Thereupon the three sharpers were promptly seized, taken away, and placed in irons. Needless to say, I had “planted” the cards during the shuffling, which I did very elabo- rately and in two ways. After they had been cut I placed them obliquely corner to corner, lifted the edges, and let them spring back, overlapping. By this means I got a glimpse of the front of the corhers. I then shuffled them in the orthodox way, going through both processes several times. I was thus enabled to “plant” the cards as they came out. All the money lost by the young gentleman, and that lost by me, was recovered, and there was still a balance remaining. This was handed “Hk JUMPED TO HIS FRET, EXCLAIMING, LOUDLY: "WR HAVE HERN CHRATED !"" over to a marine charitable institution. Both the young gentleman and the captain of the liner were very pleased at the downfall of this trio of rogues. As I had suspected, they turned out to be old offenders, and were svon recognised when handed over to the United States police. ‘They were placed on trial, convicted, and sent to prison for two years.

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. By Captain F, A. Dicktnson. A chatty description of the author’s journeyings in the interior of British East Africa, the ‘“‘ Sports- man’s Paradise,” the home of countless species of big game, and also of the warlike Masai and Nandi, trouble with whom took Captain Dickinson on many of his patrols. ‘T is my intention in this article to set forth a few experiences in the untrodden wilds of Eastern Equa- torial Africa, which may be aptly called the “Sportsman’s Paradise.” To get there one goes by ship to Aden, the junction of the great Indian and Australian mail routes, and thence round the Horn of Africa by Cape Guardafui and due south to Mombasa. Not so long ago this was one of the big centres of the slave trade, and one can well imagine how suitable its innumerable creeks and rivers, running inland in all directions, were to the law- less operations of the raiders who navigated the swift-sailing dhows which carried the hapless slaves. Mombasa also forms one terminus of the Uganda Railway, which stretches six hundred miles inland to Lake Victoria Nyanza, the greatest of the African lakes. What used in former days to be a dead-and-alive town is now transformed into a busy hive of industry, with the daily arrival and departure of trains instead of the very occasional return of a caravan of porters from the interior, ‘The platform is thronged with savages—all clothed, however, as enforced by law—and as much in their right minds as an African savage can ever hope to be. Some have come to greet friends, others have been sent with weird-looking barrows to take away merchandise ; but the greater part are there just to help things by louking on with staring eyes and capacious mouths agape. One fine day, duty on firearms and other odds and ends having been paid, hotel bills settled, and baksheesh duly doled out, I took the train en route for Nairobi, three hundred and twenty- five miles away. Everything was in the van, I was led to believe, and I said good-bye and settled myself to the monotony of a journey in a very comfortable carriage, built on the Indian pattern, with two seats which become beds by night; two other beds, at present folded up along the ceiling and wall; and every con- venience for the modern traveller in the East. Through groves of feathery palms and banana plantations we sped, pulling up at a wayside station every ten or fifteen miles. Looking out 1. upon the scene, one saw the inevitable Indian station-master and his two or three dogs in the foreground, and in the distance rolling grass or dense bush. So we progressed till we reached the ‘Taro Desert, with its beautiful, bright-green thorn bushes and red sanc—sand that rises into the air with the draught created by the train and enters the carriage at every crevice. On waking next morning somewhere near Simba Station, I found my eyes and ears full of sand, and everything was brick-red and grimy. We were now approaching the vast rolling Kapiti and Athi plains, thronged on every side with innumerable herds of antelope. These herds of game may be counted, not by ones and twos, but literally in Auwadreds, and that from the windows of a railway carriage, so that the thought at once strikes the sportsman: “If I can see this close at hand, what must there be in the little-known districts miles away?” Zebra, hartebeeste, and gazelles swarm around, with a few wildebeeste, and if one is lucky a rhinoceros may be discerned in the background. So this wonderful panorama continues until Nairobi is reached, where one unpacks oneself and belongings and repairs to the hotel till arrangements can be made for continuing the journey. ‘This hill-station, four thousand odd feet above the sea, with its back to the Kikuyu forests and the Athi plains at its feet, is a thriving town, built for the most part of corrugated iron, and is the bub of the local universe. Warm in the English winter, with frosts at night in July, it occupies the proud position of being probably the only health resort on the Equator. With its pack of hounds, its club, with tennis and cricket grounds, its race weeks and attendant dances, and the extreme hospitality of all and sundry, Nairobi is a wonderful place indeed. Ona clear morning in January the view is magnificent. With the town at one’s feet you look due north and see the snow-clad peak of Kenia, a hundred miles away, outlined against a vivid blue sky, whilst almost due south the twin tops of the highest. mountain in Africa—Kilimanjaro— loom over the horizon at an even greater distance.

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IN UNTRODDEN The forest land round Nairobi is very beautiful. Roads have been cut through it everywhere to enable the colonists to send their produce into the town in carts instead of using the old- fashioned method of employing porters, who are expensive, besides being only able to carry a weight of sixty pounds on their heads. On one occasion while in this region I had command of a column which consisted of two companies of the King’s African Rifles. Our object was to worry some outlying tribes under Mount Kenia who had been annoying our friendlies in that direction, and had finally taken upon themselves the wiping out of a small native trading caravan. I had with me some Masai spearmen who were supposed to act as guides, counsellors, and friends, and to make themselves generally useful. And right good fellows they proved to be, in spite of their PATHS. 341 Great Rift Valley, an example of volcanic action stretching roughly from the Sea of Galilee in Palestine, taking in the Great Lakes and reach- ing to Quilimane and the mouth of the Zambesi. ~ The other is the three curious tribes dwelling at intervals along it, starting, roughly again, with the Somali, continuing to the Masai, and ending with the Zulus. Little or nothing is known about any of these races except that their characteristics are peculiarly alike. All are more or less nomadic in their habits, all are cattle fanciers, and there is a lot of fight in all three of them. ‘The Masai are divided into several sub-tribes, each of which has its peculiar device painted on the oval skin shields, added to which are small lines or spots indicating the various families in that sub-division. ‘The colouring is white and red with a very little black. They Wy KS we From a\ A GROUP OF Mt war-paint and evil-smelling feather and skin decorations. The Masai were the old fighting race and hereditary rulers of this part of the world, terrorizing their neighbours and looting indis- criminately. No one knows whence they came, but their fairy tales and folk-lore bring back the works of Grimm and the days of one’s childhood in startling fashion. There are two extraordinary things on the east coast of Africa. One is the aE oe | ASAL WARRIOKS, SHOWING “THEIR EXTRAORDINARY HEAD-DRESSES. (Photo. carry a nasty-looking spear, each end of which is made of soft iron, the “ business end” being a blade some thirty inches long and the butt an iron rod used chiefly to stick in the ground. The men wear head-dresses of assorted shapes and sizes. The courageous warrior may be known by his tawny, cone-shaped hat of lion- skin, denoting that he has killed the animal himself ; the usual run of fighting-man, however, is decked out in an oval ring of ostrich feathers

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342 THE WIDE which he wears over his head, kept in place behind with a thong of leather ; the feathers are black, with two or three fine white ones at the highest part to give additional height to the wearer. Others wear tippets of “ wydah-birds’” feathers, thick and very warm, which exude a certain effluvium. The rank and file make their appearance in nothing, and hope for the best! The warriors also carry one other weapon, a sword, called locally a “simi,” which, though of soft iron, cuts to some purpose. The Masai, as I mentioned before, are splen- did fighters and are enlisted as soldiers in the King’s African Rifles, one company of which is composed exclusively of them ; and first-rate soldiers they have proved themselves. ‘They are very nice, easy-going fellows, who give no trouble, work hard, and don’t drink —in fact, they are the best savages I have ever met. The place we had to make for tocommence our patrol was Fort Hall, the chief station in the Kenia pro- vince, and thither we bent our steps, tra- velling, for the first forty miles, across the Athi plains, directly towards Dongo Sabuk, a well- known = moun- tain landmark in the country- side round Nai- robi. Game abounded — on each side of the narrow, well- worn footpath which does duty as a road in the East — African wilds; but no adventure worth recording befell us, except that I shot my first water-buck. Ere long we arrived at the Thika Thika River, which at the point of crossing runs deep down between steep banks in a broad ravine. A wooden, double-lock bridge had been begun, but had been left unfinished, and as the wire hawsers From a) CROSSING A RIVER ON A WIRE ROPE, THE WATER SWAKMED WITH VORACIQUS CROCODILES, BUT LUCKILY XO ACCIDENT HAFPENED. (Photo. WORLD MAGAZINE. used for hauling the big baulks into position still stretched from side to side, we used these instead. One by one we sat in a rough wooden seat and were pulled across with a rope, the contrivance being hauled back again and again, till all the men and baggage were landed in safety on the right side of the river. No accident happened, luckily, as there was a longish drop to the water, which, moreover, swarmed with voracious crocodiles of the finest type. However, we provided them with no food that day. Another thirty-five miles saw us at Fort Hall, a large stone fort with a ditch outside, perched on the top of a hill commanding a splendid view of mountain, river, and cultivated plains. The natives in that part—Wakikuyu—are well known as tillers of the soil; in fact, almost all the labour in East Africa worth- talking about is drawn from this huge tribe. After partaking of the hospitality of the genial Sub- Commissioner and his kindly wife, affairs of state were dis- cussed and the making of his- tory began. A move had to be made to cross the Tana River in two different places, in order to annoy the enemy as much as possible, the two parties effecting a junc- tion again in a week or so. Arrived at the river-bank, where there is a_ well - known ford, the first thing was to get a rope stretched across and attach to this by pulleys a small punt we had brought for the occasion. If the river rose at any moment through the melting of the snows or the rain- storms which visit this part of the world fairly frequently, there would have been no means of

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. 343 getting back the cattle and sheep which we fondly imagined we should receive from the enemy, so this was done to prevent accidents. All precautions against a surprise were taken here, as although there was little danger in reality, still it was an important point. Camp was pitched that afternoon close by, and a strong cattle zareba built, with strands of barbed wire wound about to strengthen it. Some few days later the Tana saw us again, and great was our delight to find that the river had not risen, since we had some cattle and sheep to get across, as we wanted them off our hands. After all was said and done, ferrying the stock over jn a flat-bottomed punt wanted a bit of doing and would have been solid hard work, to say the least of it; but now everything seemed made smooth, so to speak, the cattle being able to walk across without any trouble. They were grateful to get into the cool water out of the heat, after having been driven so many weary miles across a burning, sandy plain, and made no fuss at all. The Masai warriors showed their handiness again by walking across with them and patting the beasts to encourage them, and also supporting the calves under the chin when the water got too deep for them. We used to go and fish at odd moments to while away the what it was, much less to pull him out. Mean- while a crowd of excited people had collected, all jabbering at once. If it wasn’t a crocodile he had hooked, I told the unhappy angler, it must be a barbel, of which the river was full, in which case the fish would soon get tired, and something might be done. Somewhat reassured, he stuck to his line, and soon the water swirled violently ; then the yellow scales and huge tail of a monster barbel showed on the surface. One more haul, a lot of shouting and gratuitous advice from the spectators, and two of my gallant fellows rushed in with naked bayonets and transfixed the fish, although how they missed spiking one another I shall never under- stand. We had got him, but he was a big thing to fish out ; however, the spectators soon settled that for us and placed the monster intact on the bank. Then came the weighing process. That seemed a hard nut to crack, for there was only a solitary five-pound weight available. Some bright person settled the difficulty by suggesting that the barbel should be divided out there and then as food ; he was tired of waiting, he said. That gave us a clue. The fish was duly snap- shotted, and then cut up and weighed out bit by bit. He came to about forty-six and a half pounds as nearly as I could calculate time, and one after- noon, whilst I was it, though the last dreaming at the end of a bit of string, a heart - rending scream broke the silence, and put an end once for all to my reverie. I rushed off excitedly and found one of my men struggling at the end of his line, slipping slowly Hioee the bank all the while. I roared with laughter, for the fellow’s face was ashen and his eyeballs protruding with fright. He told me that when he felt a bit of a pull he thought he had caught a fish, but that the crea- ture was so strong it was impossible to get a sight of From a\ A MONSTER BARBEL CAUGHT IN THE TANA RIVER—IT WEIGHED FORTY-SIX AND A HALF VYOUNDS. two pieces were rather fragmentary. Their owners, how- ever, didn’t object | r in the least; it was all right, they said, as it was “all fish”! ‘The cattle in this part of the world are for the most part black and white. They are small as compared with English cattle, and have a hump on the back, much more developed in 3 the cases of the bulls, so that they greatly resemble the mild-eyed oxen of India, though their tempers can- J, not be said to be so equable. We were passing along close to the herd, who, having been (Pho. * A

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344 rather worried during the last few days, were ready to take offence at anything. They stopped and stared at the white man, ard the big mottled bull shown in the photograph began to stamp and snort, trying to make himself angry. At last he could stand it no longer ; down went his head and up went his tail, and he thundered down on the unfortunate Needless to say I skipped overa fence camera. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. method of carrying on warfare being to lie hidden in the thick bush and long grass in ambush for the unwary. When the enemy have approached to within ten or twenty yards a cloud of poisoned arrows is rained upon them, and so sudden is the onslaught that one cannot exactly tell from which direction it comes. We left the train at Mohoroni Station and marched some six miles up into the hills on the A HERD OF EAST AFRICAN CATTLE. THE PICTURE CHARGED THE CAMERA. From a Photo. out of his way, and left him master of the situation. I spent Christmas, 1904, in another part of East Africa. I had gone up by train with my Masai Company of the King’s African Rifles at a moment’s notice to the Nandi country to patrol the Uganda Railway near Lake Victoria. The Nandi are an offshoot of the Masai, the only difference being that they speak another dialect. They, too, are cattle fanciers, and on the slightest sign of a row away go their beasts—guarded by picked warriors— into the depths of the forests, where they are hidden away in rocky gorges till the trouble is past. One may wander over the hills and along the paths at such times and never see a living thing, but every now and then you hear a shout echoing across the valley from the hill opposite, perhaps a mile away—a shout that is caught up and repeated from one eminence to the other, till the whole country-side reverberates with sound. This is the Nandi method of telegraph- ing from hill-top to hill-top, and by means of it the tribesmen know in a very short space of time exactly what is the strength of the column of troops sent to punish them, its exact locality, and the direction in which it is moving. They are a crafty people, their favourite DIRECTLY AFTER THE SNAP-SHUT WAS TAKEN THE BIG BULL IN THE CENTRE OF north side of the railway to Soba, a pretty little station perched on a hill-top and in the centre of the section of the Nandi whom we suspected of having caused the trouble. We set out on our patrol the following day at early dawn, getting soaked to the skin by the dew in the long grass through which the path wound its way, anon groping our way in the semi-darkness of a primeval forest. Terns hung down from the banks all round, and long grey strands of beard-moss festooned themselves from tree to tree. Up and down valleys, over the bare hill-sides, in and out of forests we trudged all day, and not a living thing did we see. Then back again we went, the way we had come, arriving at Soba thoroughly tired out and quite ready for bed after a hard day’s marching. We woke next morning with the sun as usual, and found to our surprise that” a whole tribe had come in and were sitting down awaiting a pow-wow, and our pleasure. These were not the people who had caused the trouble ; they said they had come in to talk to us about it, and denounced their brothers as

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. 345 thoroughly bad men, taking good care to make it plain that they themselves were quite good boys. The photograph of them here repro- duced shows the tribesmen in a typical attitude, squatting on the ground in more or less of a heap with their bright spears upright, and their, chief—who, by the way, was armed with a formidable umbrella—in front. When everything had been amicably settled behind, come half the escort of soldiers, close in front of the porters with the baggage. ‘These again are followed by the remainder of the escort, whose business it is to keep the porters closed up and hurry on the laggards. By this formation, if game is met with on the way, you have a decent chance of getting in a shot with- out the animal being frightened away by the noise and chatter of your men, to say nothing of From a} there came the inspection of the conventional bullock brought in as-a present, which they well know will be duly admired and handed back for them to eat. When one marches through the wilderness with porters and baggage one usually has some idea of where one wishes to get to—say a hundred miles away—but where to pitch one’s different camps on the way is quite another matter. You leave a Jot to chance and, with a guide or two who can never be said to be quite reliable, wander along any game path that looks as if it led in the right direction. After doing this continually one really gets to think as a native does of time—that it doesn’t matter. So if you do go out of the way for two or three miles it is all the same in the long run, and some good shooting may be picked up by the mischance. On the march first of all comes ‘“ master,” with a guide who says he knows the locality, and two or three gun-bearers; then, a mile Vol. xvii.—a4, (Photo. the strange and dreadful-looking packages they carry on their heads, some of which are enough to frighten any proper-thinking animal out of his senses. A signal from either side of the track, if anything should have been killed, will bring up the whole “Safari” (caravan) helter- skelter on the chance of obtaining the much- coveted “‘nyama” (meat). The tit-bits—the tongue, kidneys, and saddle of an antelope, for instance—are by common consent always kept for ‘ master,” so he never worries himself, except to see that all meat is brought along to camp, where he divides it out in the evening. The only thing worth recording during the hundred and ten miles’ march that brought me to the Guaso Nyiro River, which is close to Lake Magardie, on the German boundary, was an adventure with a rhinoceros—one of those inci- dents that are always occurring if one wanders about this part of Africa often enough. We were proceeding in single file through grass up to our knees, threading our way in and

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346 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. out of thorn bushes, when, without the slightest warning, there was a crash and a snort, and the unwieldy bulk of a bull rhinoceros loomed up some ten yards away. He had been lying in the friendly shade of a bush out of the sun, and had only just scented us. There he stood, swaying his head from side to side, apparently not having quite made up his mind what to do. He was in such close proximity to the path that I was afraid of leaving him alone, because he would be almost certain to get more angry and end by doing some considerable damage to property if not to life. So bang went the rifle, and with a thud the bullet hit him. Down came his head; then he grunted once or twice, and charged straight at us! He was thoroughly angry, determined to annihilate us or die in the attempt. I could not quite understand how it was that THE HIPPO TAMUS THAT At From a Phe KED THE CARAVAN I had not killed him on the spot, as he was so close, but there was no time for speculation. 1 gave him the other barrel, and luckily he tumbled down a couple of yards away, shot in the neck, and died almost instantaneously. On examining him after he had been cut open, I found that it was really the first bullet that had killed him. An animal shot in the heart, although dead to all intents and purposes, invariably makes a sudden rush in any direction for perhaps fifty yards or so before he falls down. The second shot, therefore, was un- necessary, although, of course, I could not possibly have known that at the time. His horns were nothing to speak of, but the body was all meat. The porters, with loud shouts at once set upon it to cut it up. The head, feet, tongue, and tail were reserved for me, as usual —rhino-tail soup is excellent—and when a couple of ribs had been hacked away one of my small boys plunged bodily into the cavity, and after groping about for a few minutes appeared again, smothered in blood, jubilantly holding up the kidneys for my inspection; I thanked him and said he might keep them. (Zo be concluded.)

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By FE. St. Joun Harr. If ever a ship had an eventful existence it was the little “ Argyle,” of Glasgow, afterwards rechristened the “Tony.” A mere toy, she first of all made an adventurous voyage out to Singapore, and then embarked on an exciting career as a pirate-chaser and blockade-runner, playing no small part in a sequence of stirring events that added over thirty thousand square miles of territory to the British Empire. © all who have greatly used the sea, and know it, there is a strange fascination in little ships. The dis- proportion between them and the vast forces they have to combat is in itself an appeal ; and little ships have a long roll of glory of their own in the romantic and tragic annals of the sea. The Pinta of Columbus, Drake's Pe/ican and Golden Hind, the Squirrel, of only ten tons— which foundered with Sir Humphrey Gilbert and all hands off the Azores—Grenville’s immortal Revenge, Henry Hudson’s Discovery, and 1.ord Cochrane’s famous brig-sloop Speedy were all little ships, even judged by the standard of their own day; and yet they bulk more largely on our vision than the loftiest three-decker or the lordliest steam liner that ever walked the waters, The ss. Argyle, afterwards to be rechristened the Zony, had no such glorious associations as belonged to the ships I have mentioned, but she was a notable little vessel in her way, and in an indirect manner helped towards the making of history. She was built in Henderson’s yard at Paisley for Anderson of the Glasgow Polytechnic, primarily for the purpose of carrying a very limited number of passengers in smooth water, and with this object all her interior, with the exception of the space devoted to the engines, which were astern, was devoted to cabin accom- Pw er fo) modation. But the Argy/e resolutely refused to adapt herself to the purpose in view, and the Scottish Whiteley, finding her practically useless, promptly exchanged her for a boat of more serviceable dimensions and power. Captain Peter Orr, a former ship’s captain, and afterwards a teak-trader in Bangkok, was desirous of returning to the East, and so bought the Argyle at a very low price, partly in order to save his passage-money to Singapore and also because he knew of a likely market for his purchase. When he came to engage a crew to help him take her out od Suez, however, he found expert opinion so unanimous in con- demning the ridiculous little vessel as inadequate to travel the eight thousand five hundred miles intervening between Glasgow and Singapore that he was unable to induce a single seaman to sign on for the voyage. He finally succeeded in engaging a cook, James Black by name ; and after a little while recruited three adventurous young amateurs desirous of seeking their for- tunes, two of them being engineers by pro- fession, but all of them innocent of any practical experience of the sea. One fine April morning in 1870 the tiny ship, with her crew of landsmen, put out from the port of Glasgow amid the derision of the sea- faring population and their prognostications of disaster or a speedy return, the force of which will be the better understood by a description of the vessel.

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348 THE The Argy/e was an iron or steel screw steamer, fifty-three feet long by nine feet beam, with a depth of ten feet from deck to keel, and with -a_ registered tonnage of fourteen tons. She had only seven-inch cylinders to her engine, and her plates were an eighth of an inch in WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. No one there believed that the Azgy/e was bound for the Far East, and the announcement of her destination only aroused suspicion. Nobody, people said, would dream of going to Singapore in this absurdly inadequate steamer, but, on the other hand, she was just the non- From a) thickness. She was rigged as a fore-and-aft schooner, with a yard which hove up and down on the foremast on which to carry canvas when running before the wind. This delectable craft was manned by a unique crew, in that, with the exception of James Black, the cook, it consisted exclusively of officers, their names and ratings being Peter Orr, captain; James Craig, mate; William Clark Cowie, chief engineer; and William Webster, second engineer. ‘Thus the captain’s and mate’s watches boasted an engineer apiece, but as there were only four days’ steaming in the whole voyage—which lasted five months—the two engineers, following the captain’s and mate’s example, doubled their parts and acted as A.B.’s. Before the amateur crew could get their sea- legs the Argy/e fell in with a frightful gale off the north-west coast of Ireland; the wind had been blowing and the sea running up for days, and, knowing the risk of attempting to hang on to such a gale with not a single sailorman on deck, Captain Orr did the only thing possible and hove her to. When the gale subsided Captain Orr bore up for the coast and entered the port of Killybeg. THE ss. “* ARGYLE.” [Photo. descript type of vessel that people with little capital and some questionable purpose in view might easily get hold of. Stephens, the Fenian “Head Centre,” was known to be in the district, waiting an opportunity of escaping from a country which had been made too hot for him. What was more likely than that the Azgv/e had been chartered, and had put into Killybeg expressly to aid his flight ? The Argyie's crew were just about proceeding to enjoy themselves when a Revenue cutter made her appearance and forthwith overhauled the storm-driven wanderer with a_ leisurely thorouginess that bespoke a settled conviction. In fact, the Revenue cutter honoured the little vessel with her closest and most unwinking attention during the whole of her stay, until such time as the adventurers, having recruited their health and energies, weighed anchor and once more stood out to sea. The voyage of this mosquito schooner—less than half the size of an ordinary torpedo-boat— from Killybeg to Port Said occupied several months, but incidentally proved her to be a good sea-boat. All went well until the Azgy/e reached Lake QC

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THE STRANGE STORY OF A LITTLE SHIP. 349 Timsa, almost midway between Port Said and Suez, on the shores of which is situated the town of Ismailia. The lake is five miles in length, and the Argyle had traversed the greater part, and was heading for the next narrow stretch of canal which pierces the high land of Serapeum, when she went over the fluke of a dredger’s anchor. There was only a slight bump, followed by a rasping, rending sound ; the next second the cement on the vessel’s bottom gave way, and she filled and went down like of the Argyle being too “ tender” to stand any more vigorous treatment. After many days had been spent on this job the adventurers made a fresh start, and, discard- ing steam after passing Suez, crawled down the Red Sea to Aden under canvas. As a matter of fact, under favourable conditions, the little vessel’s sailing rate was quite equal to her steam- ing rate, which at that time registered the awe- inspiring speed of from seven to eight knots an hour; but to see if they could improve the former her crew, at Aden, once more put their ie “SHE FILLED AND WENT DOWN LIKE A STONE, ALL HANDS BARELY SCRAMBLING OFF WITH THEIR LIVES.” a stone, all hands barely scrambling off her with their lives, and nothing else, owing to the suddenness with which she sank under them. Though somewhat disconcerted, the happy-go- lucky crew wasted no time in lamentation, but at once took measures for the salving of their ship, invoking the assistance of the local authorities to that end. The Canal Company helped them by dragging the little vessel, which had sunk in three fathoms, along the bottom of the lake to the shore and beaching her, and, furthermore, lent them tools and presented them with an iron plate of dimensions adequate to her injuries, for when they had got her high and dry a hole was found along her bilge fourteen feet long by nine inches wide. The two engineers, Messrs. Cowie and Webster, were now in their element, and with cold chisel and hot rivets proceeded to fix the plate securely over the rent, carefully caulking it with canvas, the plates ship on the beach at low water and unshipped her propeller. It was the month of August ; it was also the height of the south-west monsoon, which scarce another sailing vessel in the port would as much as look at ; it was therefore quite in accordance with the spirit that ruled throughout this rather mad expedition that the Argy/e should rush enthusiastically into it as if to meet her dearest friend. And, in truth, so the monsoon proved itself to be. The little craft, with this furious, never-ceasing gale behind her, fairly raced the distance between Aden and the Straits of Malacca, covering the three thousand and odd miles in about eighteen days. There was every need for haste, for the commissariat department, never luxurious, was now in a highly critical condition ; all their stores had been water-spoilt in Lake Timsa, and, as there was neither tea, coffee,

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35° spirits, tobacco, nor a serviceable match in the ship, all hands were reduced to living on boiled rice and treacle and to keeping up the galley fire night and day. Through fault or accident on one occasion the fire went out, and the adven- turers, desperately concerned at the prospect of having to eat uncooked rice for an indefinite period, ransacked the vessel and at last found one unspoilt cartridge, which they fired from an old fowling-piece into a gunny bag, or jute sack, and, igniting it, were once again enabled to set up their fire. At the entrance to the Straits the monsoon failed them, and then ensued a weary three weeks before the five months’ voyage ended at Singapore, where Captain Orr immediately sold the ship to the THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. she succeeded in bursting two of her boiler tubes, and, a competent man being required to effect repairs, who should be called in to do the work but her quondam first engineer, Mr. Cowie! That gentleman’s abilities impressing the Sultan, he, with that irresponsible absolutism which once flourished so_pictur- esquely in the Far East, straightway appointed him admiral of his far from inconsiderable fleet, which comprised one steamer, the Argyle, several fine large sailing cutters, and a number of sea-going native frahus. The admiral’s duties were to collect tribute from the petty chiefs of the archipelago and revenue from others who were lax in rendering unto Czesar, and to police the trade routes of those pirate- haunted waters. Sultan of the Rhio and Linga — Archi- pelago, and the plucky little company who had manned her dispersed. But the Argyle was not every- body’s ship, and just as she had declined to adapt herself to the purpose for which she was originally built in her old Scottish home, so she now manifested her objection to this — transfer- ence. If ships were as sentient as those who love them often seem to believe, one might think that she pined for some of the old crew who had worked her and nursed her oe so faithfully through storm and stress; or that, having brought a man to the scene of his destiny, she gave him the recall of the inanimate, to raft him still farther on his career. Be this as it may, the very first trip she made with her new owner From a Photo. by G. THREE MEMBFRS OF THE CREW THAT SAILED THE “ARGYLE” SINGAPORE—MR. COWIE IS IN THE CENTRE, WITH MR. WEBSTER ON HIS RIGHT AND MR. R. Lambert & Co., Singapore. Sultan Ma- homet Joseph gave him a gor- geous admiral’s uniform, and let it be widely known that he had engaged as admiral a par- ticularly ter- rible specimen of fighting man, cf remorseless tendencies. This and the uniform — but more than either the tact and the under- standing of native races which Mr. Cowie has shown through- out his career —enabled him to carry out his duties without once firing a shot. The little Argyle was his flagship, and, though on two occasions he cleared for action, the mere threat it implied sufficed, and even the experience of fighting pirates was reserved for a much later date. Mr. Cowie resigned his position to lead a notable coal-prospecting expedition to Sumatra, FROM GLASGOW TO HIS LEFT:

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THE STRANGE STORY OF A LITTLE SHIP. and on his return entered into partnership with Mr. Schomburgk, a merchant of Singapore, and nephew of the Sir Robert Schomburgk who délimitated the Venezuelan boundary. This business later expanded into the Labuan Trading Company, the first de facto trading company in North Borneo, just as Mr. Cowie commanded the first trading steamer that ever visited that country. The Argyle was once more with her old friend, for she was promptly bought and added to the firm’s steam and sailing fleet ; her cabins were gutted, and she was thoroughly renovated and overhauled, which effected an appreciable improvement in her speed. Re- named the Zony, after Mr. Schomburgk’s sister, Antonia, she began to~make her record as a smart little blockade-runner. For centuries the Spaniards had been timidly nibbling at the dominions of the Sultan of Sulu, which at this time comprised the island of that name, where he had his head-quarters, the Sulu Archipelago, and North Borneo, though he shared the latter to the extent of some shadowy claims with the Sultan of Brunei. They now deter- mined to get possession of~ the whole of the coveted territory, and to that end, in addition to land operations, estab- lished the block- ade of Sulu, which lasted three years, during which time, it may be id said, there not an cntiepe ing shipowner or merchant of any nationality in the Far East who did not attempt to in- dulge in the lucra- tive business of blockade-running. Though many ships were cap- tured and confiscated, the blockade proved non effective so far as the ships of the Labuan Company were concerned, owing to the astute manner in which they were handled and the organized system on which they worked. The story of one is practically the story of all, for with slight variations they went through the same experiences and the one mind controlled the operations of all. 35! The Zony, with a cargo from Singapore, would put into Tianggi (afterwards rechristened Jolo by the Spaniards), the chief port of Sulu, when the Spanish gunboats were absent ; or, if they were in port, would hang about outside the three-mile limit till they started to patrol the coast. Then she would steam in, discharge her cargo into empty frahus waiting to receive it, and, if possible, whip in her return cargo and be outside again before the Spaniards returned. But at first this rarely happened, and generally there was only time to discharge cargo before i gunboat was signalled, when the Zony would steam round the opposite side of the island some forty miles south to a hiding-place at Benkawan, first discovered as such by Mr. Cowie when in command of the ss. Far East. This refuge was up a narrow creek which opened out into a shallow and tortuous lagoon almost entirely hidden from the sea by dense man- groves, which hereabouts grow on the coral, and not on mud as in most places. Here the Zony would lie with fires banked until darkness fell “WITH LIGHTS OUT AND A COVERING OVER THK INNACLE SHE CREPT DOWN THE CREEK.” (six o’clock in the tropics), when with all lights out and a covering over the binnacle she crept down the creek and round the coast to Tianggi, transhipped her return cargo of pearl shell from prahus awaiting her in the roads, and steamed once more beyond the danger zone before day broke. Fourteen tons does not seem much of a cargo, but it could be very quickly handled, and when, .

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352 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. as always on the return trip, it was composed of mother-of-pearl shell, then selling at two hundred and fifty pounds per ton at Singapore, it paid handsomely ; and as the little Zonxy only supplemented the work of larger vessels—the ss. Far East of one hundred and fifty tons, the Cleator of six hundred tons, and others—it can be seen that the game was very well worth the risk. Once, however, it came perilously near to disaster for the impudent little Zany, for, a native spy having informed the Spaniards of her hiding-place, a gunboat steamed to the entrance of the creek leading to the lagoon, and her commander, discovering the fugitive, blazed away at her across a quarter of a mile of man- grove. But, the vegetation completely concealing the Zony’'s hull, and the Spanish gunnery being wild, she took not the slightest hurt, so after a short bombardment the gunboat dropped a cutter with an armed crew to go in and seize what they expected to find an easy prey. The warlike Sulus had been itching for a chance like this, and a number of them promptly concealed themselves in the mangrove lining either side of the creek. Just when the boat entered the narrowest part of it they opened fire on its occupants, pouring in several volleys at pistol- shot range with such terrifying effect that only with the most desperate exertions could the remnant of the crew put their craft about and regain the gunboat, which immediately steamed “THEY OPENED FIRE ON ITS OCCUPANTS, POURING IN SEVERAL VOLLEYS AT PISTOL-SHOT/RANGE.” away at full speed to seek help from one of her consorts. The moment she had gone round one side of the island, the Zoxy—as advised by the natives— left her refuge and coasted round the other. Under cover of the darkness she crept into ‘Tianggi without showing a light, got her cargo aboard in the minimum space of time, and had steamed beyond the three-mile radius, while the two gunboats were still cruising off Benkawan in search of her. After a time the Labuan Trading Company’s boats, half of which were under the British and half under the German flag, always followed the plan of going in after dark and coming out before daylight, and a vessel running to Sulu would generally try to make either Meimbong on the south, or Tianggi (Jolo) on the north coast of the island just as darkness was falling. By means of the company’s agents, the Sultan, and the natives generally, they could not only com- municate and be directed by signals, but had a perfect system of telegraphy across the island to warn them of the gunboats’ movements. The State of British North Borneo was the direct consequence of this blockade-running. ‘The Sultan of Sulu, who was ip possession, ceded the territory to his friend Mr. Cowie to save it from the grip of the Spaniards, though nominally for an annual subsidy of five thousand dollars ; and that gentleman assisted the late Baron von Overbeck to make good with the Sultans of Sulu and Brunei, some ancient, shadowy, and otherwise worthless claims. The indecisive fighting and bloodshed—the Spaniards lost athousand killed in the storming of Jolo alone— and_ the block- ade, which ham- pered trade, at last. exhausted the patience of the Great Powers; so, in 1878, England, France, Ger- many, and America insisted that the war should cease, and Jin return signed a_proto- col recognising Jolo as a Span- Ish possession, but open to the

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THE STRANGE STORY OF A LITTLE SHIP. 353 world’s trade. The Spaniards had to give way and raise the blockade with their design but half completed, for the Sultan was left a ruling potentate, and shortly afterwards entered into partnership with Mr. Cowie. The news of the protocol having been signed was not many days old when the little Zony steamed gaily into Jolo in broad daylight and proceeded, quite openly, of course, to fill up with cargo. The exasperation of the Spaniards at their failure to capture even one of the Labuan Company’s ships, and at this insignificant vessel in particular, was extreme. She certainly was an absurd little tub to have flouted the navy of Spain for three long years. She had lain hidden in places quite impossible for any larger vessel, and when chased she had never failed to show them the cleanest of clean heels. She was under the German flag, and commanded by Captain Sachsze—a tall, fair Prussian, and a singularly cool and brave man—who had nearly completed his preparations for sea when Mr. Cowie, coming on board and observing some suspicious movements on the part of a Spanish cruiser, thought it wise to slip outside, and, to take no chances, ran the Zony into their old hiding-place at Benkawan. Once there, with never a sign of pursuit, an unaccountable reluctance to leave the place seized on Sachsze. “The game’s up,” he said ; “T feel certain we shall be caught this time. We'd better leave the ship here.” Mr. Cowie reasoned with him in vain. “You may call me a coward,” said Sachsze ; “T’ve run the blockade time and time again and never failed you yet. Indeed, you ought to call me a coward, but I have a presentiment that if we leave this place we shall be taken—and that I shall die!” “T don’t call you a coward,” Mr. Cowie replied, “for I know you are not one. If you have a presentiment, you have a presentiment, and that’s all about it. But I have none. The blockade’s raised and they won’t dare—-they can't touch us. You land here and I'll take the ship to Singapore, or I’ll go with you, whichever you like!” On hearing this proposal Sachsze weakened concerning his presentiment, and after a while it was agreed that Mr. Cowie should accompany him on the trip. They crept out of their refuge, and there, on the horizon, were two Spanish gunboats waiting for them, or so it appeared, for on sighting the Zoxy the smoke began to pour furiously from their funnels, and they immediately came away after her. But the Tony, as if she felt she was put on her mettle, walked away from her pursuers, and seeing that he had the heels of the Spaniards, Sachsze com- Vol. xvii, —45. pletely recovered his equanimity. Coming up to his employer he said, “We're all right now. I am myself again, thanks to you. And now you go ashore.” Mr. Cowie offered to continue the voyage, but Sachsze was firm in his refusal. “What in the world should you do that for?” he asked. “You never originally intended coming, and have your business to attend to on shore. You can see we are quite safe now, and I’m ashamed of my fears. I can’t think what can have come over me.” After a little persuasion Mr. Cowie agreed to leave the ship, and shook hands with Captain Sachsze, never dreaming that it was for the last time. ‘They were rapidly coasting northwards, and one of the numerous fradus in sight having been signalled, Mr. Cowie boarded her in the ship’s boat, and was put ashore. ‘The process of dropping him had only occupied a few minutes, and from the prahu, and the shore when he landed, he saw the Zony resume her course, having lost but little to her pursuers, who were still following. But she had not gone far when she suddenly stopped—stopped as though she never meant to go ahead again, and in the falling darkness, as Mr. Cowie watched with intense anxiety, he saw the gunboats stealing up and rapidly overhauling her. Presently quick flashes cut the murk, and after an interval the sound of guns came rolling across the dark, calm waters to the anxious listener. Then all sight and sound were lost in the deepening obscurity of the tropic night. For wecks afterwards he did not know what had actually happened. Sachsze’s engineer —a European — through carelessness, had allowed one of the bearings to get heated, and_ there was absolutely nothing for it but to stop till it cooled again. The Spanish gunboats came up hand over hand, and had gained so much ground by the time the Zony was able to go ahead again that escape wds out of the question. They opened fire and blazed away at the distance of a mile, the shot falling all about her. Realizing that flight was impossible, Sachsze put the ship about and steamed boldly towards his assailants. On seeing that he had abandoned his efforts to elude them the Spaniards ceased firing, and when within hailing distance Sachsze called out, “What are you firing at me for? Iam a peaceful trader. Don’t you see my flag?” For answer the Spaniards boarded the vessel, transferred the captain and his men, without a word of explanation, but with much unnecessary roughness, to one of the gunboats, and, placing a prize crew on the Zony, proceeded to tow her to Port Isabella. Sachsze and, his men were

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354 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ‘THE SPANIARDS BOARDED THE VESSE! taken on to Manila and thrown into prison, the captain being treated with the greatest brutality from the moment of his capture. To complete their triumph the Spaniards desired to parade the Zony at Manila and tried to tow her there. But thé Zony stubbornly declined to be towed, and after snapping two or three hawsers they had to give up the attempt and put back with her to Port Isabella. Meanwhile Messrs. Cowie and Schomburgk had lost not a moment in sending word of this illegal seizure to London and Berlin, with the result that a peremptory order was cabled from Madrid to Manila, “ Release vessel and crew immediately,” while twenty-eight thousand dollars were given to the owners as an indemnity and apologies offered to their respective countries, The captain and crew were brought down to Port Isabella and again put in possession of their vessel. If the Zony had been an ill ship to catch to the enemy, she was a good little ship to her friends, and sailed back to Singapore in remarkably quick time with the men, to whom her cramped space after their recent experiences must have seemed a very real heaven But Sachsze came home only to die. Owing to mistaken sentiment there was No post-mortem examination on his re- mains, though he died of a mysterious malady that baffled all medical skill. He undoubtedly succumbed to the effects of the treatment he received at the hands of the Spaniards, but it was openly said about the archipelago that he died from a slow poison secretly administered to him in the prison at Manila. Many of the Spanish lower officials were native Filipinos, and the Filipinos have been famous for the subtlety of their poisons for centuries. This was the last exploit of the Zony. Her owners were dispersing, and their interest now centred in other directions. With the cessation of the blockade her utter and“ unalterable uselessness flagrantly manifested itself. Of a truth she had never been anything else but a worthless little tub, which the clever- ness and pluck of the men who handled and owned her had for the time being metamorphized into an effective ship. Now her essential impossibility pro- claimed itself from the house-tops and she was sold to a Chinaman at Brunei. In strict accordance with her peculiar idiosyncrasies, she never did a day’s work for him. Thirty-one thousand square miles of rich territory added to the Empire by the man whose sea-cradle she had been; flagship of an Eastern Sultan’s fleet ; flouter of the erstwhile impressive navy of Spain, which she had laughed to scorn for three long years—that was her record ; perhaps it is not to be wondered at that she refused to lend .- herself to any more ignoble employment. A man trading to Brunei told me that on his arrival there immediately after her transfer he was surprised to see the Zony hauled up on the beach with a hole in her side, where the chemical action of the sea had corroded her ridiculously thin plates. On every subsequent trip he noticed the hole getting larger and larger, till at last the whole side had fallen away and only her bare ribs were left. There was a conflict of opinion as to whether the Chinaman had failed to repair her at first and had left her to rot on account of financial embarrassment, or merely out of sheer “ cussed- ness.” It was an unpicturesque death, but after all, with ships as with men, it is the life and not the end that matters.

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The Quaint Isle of Marken. By Epmunp DucDALe. Visitors to Holland who neglect to spend a few hours on the Island of Marken miss one of the most interesting spots in Burope. Here a little community exists which, althaugh it is within a few miles by boat or railway from Amsterdam, has altered very little in character during a thousand years, Men, women, and children wear the costumes and follow the customs of thejr forefathers and pay slight heed to the march of modern progress. PENRO RKEN is one of the quaintest N) places in the world. It is, perhaps, ! AV; the only place in the world used by | 4 all of its own male inhabitants as a week-end retreat. From Monday till Saturday it is empty of men, except for a stray nonagenarian who is incapacitated for work, but on Sunday it is filled with able-bodied males, come back from work to pass a few fleeting hours with their families and enjoy a well-earned rest. Hence, if you want to see this curious island of aes patient for a start, a creaking of ropes, and a waving hand from the shore, as the sharp-prowed fishermen with their tan sails plough their way across the Zuyder. Nothing more will be seen . of them till the coming Saturday, when, one by one, they will make their way into port and (if we could hear them) talk over their little quarrels with wind and wave while the nets are being dried. And all this has gone on for more years than one dares to number. There are two ways of seeing Marken. If you MARKEN FISHING-BOATS IN PORT FOR THE WEEK-END—THEV SET SAIL ON MONDAY From a) the Zuyder Zee at its best, you too must make it the Mecca of a week-end trip, and, as the itinerary of a conducted tour would put it, “proceed thither on a Sunday.” From a distance Marken looks like a forest in the water. This curious spectacle is caused by the masts of hundreds of boats, which on the day of rest are lined up, prow to prow, behind the breakwater, just as is shown in the illustra- tion on this page. These boats have returned on Saturday Trom various parts of the. North Sea laden with fish (when the skipper is lucky), and will here stay until thedawn of Monday. Then what confusion! It is, “Up sails, and away !” with the breadwinners, a hum of voices im- SKIPPER AND CREW A WELL-RAKNEU SUNDAY RBST. (Photo. area millionaire, prince, or prodigal, you will find a delightful steam yacht on the De Ruyter Kade at Amsterdam, which for a decent number of gulden will take you there in a couple of hours. It winds its way through interesting canals, past many a windmill, and patiently stops at the old- time villages of Broek and Monnikendam, where the scrupulously clean gingerbread houses of the one and the unattractive beggars of the other arouse conflicting emotions in the breast. Broek is world-famous for its neatness. It was here, they say, that a revolt was once caused by someone who scattered cherry-stones in the street. So, on the whole, the rich man’s way of getting to Marken may (be the best.

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. = <7 <4 late GENERAL VIEW OF MAKKEN— OWING TO THE FREQUENCY OF INL From a) If, on the other hand, you are not flush of pennies, you can get to Marken by the popular steam tram as far as Monnikendam, and thence by the post-boat across the Zuyder Zee to the island. Either way gives you plenty of time to see one of the most interesting places in the world—an unspoiled part of old Holland, where the simple life is lived to-day as it was lived centuries ago, and where the mothers and fathers, boys and girls, still cling to old customs and costumes with a tenacity unusual in these fickle times. Only a few miles away lies the bustling city with its busy factories and noisy docks, from which the great steamers ply to all parts of the world. No sound of metro- politan confusion reaches Marken, which lies like the dead in its still- ness. Lucky is he, therefore, who can take the trip leisurely. He will stay a night on the island if he can find someone to put him up, and will study these remarkable men and women at close range. A ruthless, From a) S05 pak eh oa ee NDATION THE HOUSES ARE BUILT ON STILTS — THE PRINCIPAL BUILDINGS OF THE VILLAGE ARE SHOWN IN THE ACKGROUND, [Photo. thirteenth-century sea separated Marken from the mainland, and left it almost as it is to-day —a small strip of land about three times as long as it is broad, flat, bleak, and barren, only a few feet above the level of the water. Ever since it has been subject to sudden inundation, being protected only by a low dyke, and as a result its houses are mostly built on stilts. These are grouped in little bunches on some half-dozen knolls and hold about fourteen hundred inhabitants, who at different times, when the flatter parts of the island are covered with water, are compelled to pass from A MARKEN HOUSE ON STILTS, SHOWING APPROACH BY BRIDGE ACROSS ONE OF THE LITTLE CANALS WHICH INTERSECT THE ISLAND. (Photo.

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THE QUAINT ISLE OF MARKEN. 357 A MAID OF MARKEN, WITH HER RICH EMBROTDERIES, GAY HEADDRESS, AND DOUBLE CURLS—THE EMBROIDERY ON HER BODICE 1s AN HEIRLOOM, AND REFRESENTS MANY YRARS OF From a) LABOUR. (Photo. building to building in boats. In summer, when everything is green, the tourist finds his way about by means of little bridges across the canals which intersect the island, and may enter many of the houses by flights of steps. All of the structures, with one ex- ception, are made of wood. The clergyman’s superior position on the island entitles him to the only house of stone. It would require a stretch of imagination to call the women of Marken pretty. They are made fascinating by their dress. Like their husbands, fathers, and brothers, who for generations have fought the perils of the seas, their faces are stern and set. Here and there one may catch the glimmer of a smile, but most of the children look like sixteen, and the bride of twenty like the woman of forty. Big in feature, with large mouths, wide and shapeless, and prominent noses, they possess but few points of attraction, and their coarse skins and red hands suggest daily warfare with the bleak wind that sweeps across the Zuyder and a continual slavery to the scrubbing - brush, which, of course, is emblem of cleanliness in all Dutch homes. The prettiest female you find in Marken is the little baby who has not yet come in touch with the burdens of the fisherman’s daily life. This is the worst that can be said of the sex in Marken. What they lack in personal attrac- tion they make up in colour, which is almost savage in its picturesqueness. From the tip of her fetching white cap down to the saucy ends of her wooden shoes, the Marken maid is a blend of gorgeous tints and brilliant embroidery, especially on Sundays, when she takes exceed- ing care to look her best. Her lace-trimmed head-dress comes down over her ears and her hair drops down over her shoulders and breast in two long spiral coils. The older women wear caps, which are slightly more imposing in size than those of the children, which show more ornamentation. The babies wear small, round bonnets, and do not attain the dignity of the coif until they:grow up. In our illustrations the varied forms of headdress are shown. It may be stated here that up to the age of six years the children of both sexes are dressed alike, the only sign of difference being a small, round piece of coloured calico sewn on the top of the boy’s cap. When the age of six ‘THREE GENERATIONS OF MARKEN WOMEN — THE HEADDRESS OF THE OLDER WOMEN IS LARGER THAN THAT OF THE YOUNGER WOMEN—THE LITTLE CHILDREN WEAR RED CAPS, ATTAINING LATER THE DIGNITY OF From a) THE COIF. (Photo,

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358 is reached the boy is put into trousers (of which dignity, by the way, he appears quite as proud as the Eng- lish or American boy does with his first set of pockets) and the girl is allowed to grow her hair. When she reaches the age of six- teen all her hair is shorn off, except the long curls of which we have already spoken. The bodice of the girl’s dress is a mass of gay embroidery from waist to throat, the sleeves being in two parts, of two kinds of materials. The upper part is usually ascant puff of striped cotton reaching mid- way to the elbow, and the lower part a plain sleeve of solid colour to the wrist. The Marken embroidery is both delicate and beautiful, often repre- senting years of labour, and for this reason is handed as an heir- loom from mother to daughter. then, if Chloe looks forward to the week-end, A WEDDING-VARTY IN MARKEN—THE From a) THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. A YOUNG FISHERMAN OF MARKEN AND HIS PROSPECTIVE BRIDE—WHEN IN FULL HOLIDAY DRESS HE WEARS A DOUBLE ROW OF BUTTONS, MADE From a) OF ANCIENT COINS OR MEDALS, ON HIS JACKET. — (Photo. No wonder, BRIDEGROOM'S PIPE 15 FESTOONED WITH FLOWERS AND RIBBON. when Daphnis shall see her in her “Sun- day best.” He, too, likes gay colour and takes par- ticular pride in the tworows of buttonson his grey cloth jacket, which are either medals or ancient coins, descended to him through many generations. His jacket is a sort of shirt, tucked inside a pair of bulging trou- sers, which tighten round the knee like an exaggerated pair of riding breeches. On weekdays, at his work, he wears a plain jer- sey and tighter trou- sers. It is on Sunday only that he delights to sport his historic buttons. On their wedding- day Daphnis and Chloe, as well as all those who take part in this eventful Mar- ken ceremony, wear their very best. Nearly all the male members of the party wear top-hats, carry little flags in their hands, and smoke long-stemmed clay pipes. The N WEAR TOP HATS, CARRY LITTLE FLAGS, AND SMOKE LONG CLAY PIPES—THE (Photo,

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THE QUAINT ISLE OF MARKEN. 359 pipe of the bridegroom tells who Ae is at once. It is festooned with flowers and brighitly-coloured bows, and when it has served its purpose on this great day of the young fisherman’s life is carefully put away and treasured for years. The writer happened to be in Marken on the day of a wedding, and noted the excessive care with which the floral pipe was treated by the blushing bridegroom. It certainly got more attention than the bride. When that ex- : es cellent observer De Amicis visited Marken he found there about a thou- sand people and noted among them a considerable in- telligence. “ Ex- cepting the doctor, the clergyman, and the schoolmaster,” he wrote, “they were all born on the island; none of the natives ever marry on the conti- nent; nobody from the continent comes to live on theisland. All pro- fess the Reformed religion, and all know how to read and write. In the school, where there are more than two hundred children of both sexes, his- tory, geography, and arithmetic are taught.” He fur- ther noted the ex- traordinary temper- ance of the men, and the many of both sexes who lived to an ad- vanced age, as well as the exceeding attractive- ness of the home life of the islanders. “The women bring up the children,” he says, “cultivate the land, and make clothes for the entire family. Like the rest of the Dutch women, they love. cleanliness and ornaments, and even in their huts white curtains, glass decorations, embroidered bed-covers, looking- glasses, and flowers are seen. The greater part of the inhabitants die without seeing any other place than their own island. They are poor, : THE “LITTLE MOTHERS” OF MARKEN, KNITTING IN THE SUN. From a Photo, but, knowing no state in life better than their own, and having no wants or desires that they cannot satisfy, they are unconscious of their poverty. Among them there are no changes of fortune or distinctions of class. All work, no one serves. The only events which vary the monotony of their lives are births, mar- riages, deaths, a successful week’s fishing, the arrival of a stranger, a passing ship, or a storm at sea. They pray, love, and fish ; such is their life, and so genera- tion succeeds gene- ration and pre- serves the inno- cence and _ their ignorance of the world unchanged as if it were a holy inheritance.” These words, written many years ago, almost exactly describe the condi- tions now existing in Marken. Aloof- ness from the out- side world has, of course, resulted in intermarriage, but with few of the ill- effects so com- monly seen, and there is nothing in the inhabitants to suggest deteriora- tion, except, per- haps, certain strong family resem- blances. The Mar- ken type is a pecu- liar one, as a run- ning glance at our illustrations will prove, but the strong, healthy E faces of the women and the stalwart frames of the men seem to provide their, own arguments against opponents of intermarriage. Were it not for the dear little children, Marken would be dull indeed. ‘The long, flat stretches of land have a depressing effect, and the exteriors of the houses suggest nothing of the attractiveness within. But the children! You see them in their expansive petticoats long before your boat enters the harbour, and receive from them a stolid greeting. The arrival of the

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360 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE AGED ‘* From a\ tourists is, of course, the event of the day, and the girls and boys of this highly-coloured island, down to the baby in arms, crowd the landing- stage. ‘They do not beg. You realize at once that you have left all the varied and annoying forms of mendicancy on the mainland. The children gaze at you with wide-open eyes and, so far as you can be aware, discuss your many defects in low guttural. ‘Then they follow you at a respectable distance as you wend your way along the narrow paths and little bridges. They are not pretty, but they give you delight- ful surprises. ‘Turning around one of the houses, for example, you may come upon a group of little maidens knitting in the sun. Even on Sundays, when the dull week is over and_ they have more excit- ing things to at- tend to, they may yet be found with a needle and ball of yarn. And what admirable “Tittle mothers ” they make! The cares of maternity seem even now to harden their im- mobile faces, and . long hours pass, with lingering STAY-AT-HOMES" AND THE CHILDREN OCCUPY THEMSELVES DURING THE WEEK BY FARMING, NET-MENDING, OR HOUSEWORK —HAY IS ABOUT THE ONLY EXVORT, BESIDES FISH, FROM THE ISLAND. (Photo. footstep, before them, through weeks and months of training for their future state. In the homes of Marken the visitor is always welcome, and he is short-sighted if he fails to accept an invitation to step inside. The houses may be veritable shanties so far as externals are concerned, but the interiors are delightful in their cleanliness and general appearance. The row of wooden shoes which may always be noticed on the doorstep of a Marken house is a silent but powerful witness to the fact that here, as in other parts of Holland, cleanliness is esteemed akin to godliness, and that the YOUNG FISHERMEN IN HARGOUR—THIS PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS THE ORDINARY DAY COSTUME OF THE YOUNG MEN —ON WEDDING OR FETE-DAYS THEY DRESS AS SHOWN IN A PREVIOUS ILLUSTRATION, From a Photo,

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THE QUAINT ISLE OF MARKEN. 361 From a) INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH AT MARKEN—ALL PROFESS THE REFORMED RELIGION. [Phofo. young are trained in the proper way to observe the close relationship. | However that may be, the housewife relaxes a_ little in favour of the visitor and takes him, mud and all, if mud there be, into her cosy little home. She will show him her cups and saucers, her dainty tiles, her embroideries, and her family Bible, and may tell him, in voluble Dutch, how the little Marken children are christened. But on this point she may show reserve. It is said that no stranger has ever been able to see a christening in Marken, for the natives are loth to let the outside world into their privacies. “This step mayst thou take,” they seem to say, “but further canst thou not go,” and the inquirer is gently referred to the parson or the doctor for further information. With all the men-folk away, the weeks in Marken must be very prosy. The week-ends, on the other hand, are full of life. You would think that from Monday to Saturday there was nothing to do, but you may always count upon the knitting-needle and the scrubbing - brush to upset the plans of mischief-making Satan. In summer there is always a bit of haymaking to keep the aged stay-at-homes and some of the girls busy, and one often comes upon the pretty sight of eighty and twenty labouring to- gether with the scythe and rake. Besides fish, hay is the chief article of export. On Sundays, even though it be a day of rest — particularly for the hard - working women and children—there is always some- thing for the males to attend to. There are nets to dry, rigging to repair, decks to be scrubbed ; and when all this is finished there is still opportunity to clean’ sadots or, Vol. xvii.—46, in the case of the more esthetic, to de- corate them with fetching little scrolls. There are, too, many opportunities for handy men about the house, the monotony of which may occa- sionally be broken by some gossip and mayhap a potation at the Aroeg. One may also study these hardy fishermen on Sunday as they sit in groups on the decks of their ves- sels, chat of their ex- periences during the week, or perhaps discuss the points of the sermon to which they have listened in the only church on the island. From this remarkable island one brings away memories of a pleasant welcome and a long, jagged line of buildings and masts upon the horizon. The spire of the church stands out boldly against the sky, and from certain points of view dwarfs the ships in the harbour, with their little Dutch flags saucily flicking in the breeze. As the departing yacht winds about the island (it would take two hours to make the com- plete circuit) and heads towards the dangerous Pampus and the fine city beyond one sees this ever - changing panorama of spars and bunting standing out, now like the stately palms of the desert, and at another moment like the high, waving spears and lances of a hidden host of troops. © ao a THR ISLAND AS IT LOOKS ON LEAVING FORT-—-HUNDKEDS OF MASTS LOOM UP BEHIND THE BREAKWATER LIKE A FOREST OUT OF THE SEA, AND CAN BE SEEN FOR MILES ACROSS THE ZUVDER, From a Photo,

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A DOCTOR IN THE BUSH. By Epwarp Yeates, F.R.C.S.I., L.R.C.P.1., Etc. The life of a doctor in the Australian back-blocks is very different to that of his fellow-practitioners in more settled districts. Dr. Yeates here describes in amusing fashion a number of adventures— z interesting and exciting—which fell to his lot as a ‘‘new chum" medico in the bush. HE life of a doctor who practises in the Australian bush is by no means all “beer and skittles,” as I have very good reason to know, but there "is an indescribable fascination about bush life for those who have once tasted it which makes up for many disadvantages. When I first became qualified to “kill or cure,” Fate, in the shape of a letter from a brother professional in New South Wales, made me decide to commence practice in Australia. Not having any more idea than the everyday young qualified physician what outfit to provide myself with, I bought a lot of clothes and effects which afterwards proved utterly useless. I only spent a couple of days in Sydney, and then proceeded by train to Tamworth, which is some hundreds of miles north. Here my first experience of bush travelling commenced. A most extraordinary vehicle drove up to the station. It looked something like a flat- roofed sentry - box, was painted red, and was swung on enor- mous leather springs. The wheels of this quaint coach were very strongly made, with thick tyres, and every spoke was riveted where it entered the felloe. The accommodation inside was sufficient for three small people, with two more outside on the box. In my innocence I supposed this coach was only intended for luggage, but I was quickly undeceived. It caused great amwuse- ment when I suggested that the porter should place my travelling-chest, portmanteau, and small baggage on board. * “Took here, boss,” said the coach-driver, “if that’s your luggage you'll have to leave it behind ; it can come on to Warialda by carrier. But you can’t take more with you than a hand- bag. This here coach is the Royal Mail, and we can’t carry luggage.” L “But have I to travel one hundred and fifty miles in that thing ?” 1 queried, aghast. “That’s so, boss, and lucky that you got the chance of a seat this trip, for there are four or five passengers waiting up at the office already.” A long, weary drive through some very varied bush scenery eventually brought me to the little northern town of Warialda. From the unaccustomed mode of travelling, the heat, and the want of sleep for twenty-four hours, I felt quite worn out and feverish ; in fact, I was so “IT CAUSED GREAT AMUSEMENT WHEN [ SUGGESTED THAT THE PORTEK SHOULD PLACR MY TRAVELLING-CHEST, PORTMANTEAU, AND SMALL BAGGAGE ON BOARD.” incoherent when I attempted to speak to Dr. X——, who met me, that he was under the impression at first that I was rather drunk ! A cold bath and a nap, however, worked wonders, and in the cool of the evening I rose and dressed and had a look round my future home and its surroundings. The cottage was substantially built of split iron-bark logs, the ceilings not more than eight feet high. There were four rooms, a veranda, and a small

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A DOCTOR IN THE BUSH. 363 detached kitchen shaded by three or four splendid white cedar trees. The veranda in front of the house was covered with a dense creeper and the roof was “ shingled ”—covered with thin slips of wood, in the same way as slates are put on at home. A little paddock with an open shed for the horses took up space at the side and rear of the house, and enclosed in the ring-fence was a neat little slab and shingle hospital with a broad veranda, looking out on the creek. The township itself was composed of one long street, intersected by a short cross one. Several bush “hotels,” a few stores, a school-house, a jail, one or two branch banks, and a score or so of little log, slab, or pinewood cottages and houses made up the town of Warialda. The surrounding country was slightly hilly and well wooded, but the dull colouring of the foliage seemed strange to my eyes, after the brilliant colours of English foliage. In fact, everything was so utterly unlike what I had been accustomed to that I had little time to notice the slight annoyance of mosquitoes and flies. A day or two later Dr. X—— left on his holiday, leaving me in charge of a practice with a radius of over one hun- dred miles, the nearest brother medico being fifty miles away. When he was saying good-bye he re- marked, “You won't be likely to have any journeys this time of the year, as there is not much sick- ness about; so you'll have ample time to practise riding.” Alas, he turned out a false pro- phet! That very evening, about nine o’clock, whilst I was rest- ing on my bed, a message came in for me to go to a sick man at Binjara, thirty miles away. I could not refuse, and was shortly in the saddle, accompanied by the man who had come for me. I arrived at my patient’s house about dawn, and, having prescribed for him and partaken of breakfast, decided to return at once to Warialda. Half-way back my little horse “ gave in,” mainly due to my bad riding, and I was wearily leading him along when I spied a drover’s camp. I rode up to him, and, seeing that he had a number of saddle-horses, asked for the loan of one, and as he was travelling towards Warialda I proposed leaving my horse for him to bring along. To my surprise he seemed to demur, and asked me what was my hurry and business. “Oh,” I said, “ I’m a doctor.” “ Right you are, boss. 1 thought you were a policeman, with that helmet, top boots, and regulation coat, and that you were after some poor beggar. As you're a doctor, take the horse, and welcome.” ‘To my great relief I changed saddles, and jogged along feeling more comfortable, although the rain was coming down in torrents. Within about three or four miles of Warialda T had to cross a nasty creek, and to my disgust found it in flood. Being quite ignorant of the perils from floating logs, submerged trees, and other dangers, I boldly urged my reluctant steed into its swirl of water. A moment after 1 was swept out of the saddle, not knowing how to “1 BOLDLY URGED MY RELUCIANT STEED INTO ITS SWIRL OF WATER? stick on the back of a swimming horse. More by good luck than good management, however, I managed to grasp the horse’s tail, and was safely dragged ashore. Half an hour later I arrived home, a dripping, tired-out, and thoroughly demoralized young

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364 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. medico, with a decided opinion that a doctor’s life in the bush was not all “ beer and skittles.” After a warm bath I turned in and fell fast asleep from sheer exhaustion—only to be rudely awakened before sundown by a messenger from Yallaroi, a station forty-five miles distant, with an urgent call to come at once and attend a girl with a broken thigh ! The messenger had been a day and a half coming in, owing to several creeks being in flood and impassable, so no delay on my part could be admitted. ‘The bank manager lent me a lovely thorough- bred mare, strong and springy, and all that night we rode through bush, over mountain chains, and across nasty creeks. Oh, what a weary ride it was for me, tired out and indescribably sore as I was! At sunrise we arrived at the “selector’s” hut where my little patient lay. ‘T'he father was a rough, uncouth man, who, instead of thanking me for my expedition in coming, remarked growlingly, “ You're too much of a young ’un to be any good as a doctor.” I was young and looked it, but I made him apologize be- fore I attended the little girl. I fixed her up as comfort- ably as I could—I had to fashion a special splint from the bark of a tree, no suitable * material being at hand and the fracture being one which none of the splints I had brought with me would suit —and advised the selector to bring her into hospital, lying on a bed in a wagon. Fatigued as I was I elected to ride home without delay, and stopped for breakfast at Gunyerwarialda station, nine miles or so on the way home from Taylor’s selection. Here the manager, or “ boss,” made me very comfortable, and my horse (which I had left there some hours previously on my way out, when I borrowed another) being saddled up, he accompanied me a mile or so and put me on a track which he said was a short cut across the mountain to Warialda and would save me several miles, Within half an hour I was hopelessly ‘‘bushed” and had lost all idea of direction, but wisely left matters entirely to the little mare, who plodded along confidently and with a surefootedness that to me was marvellous, considering the nature of the ground in places. From a) THE AUTHOR, MR. EDWARD VEATES, F.R.C.S.I, LCL About sundown, limp and miserable, I came within sight of a homestead, and, on riding up to the veranda, was warmly greeted by the ladies of the place, the men-folk being still out on the “run.” In a spiritless voice I asked, being ready for a disappointing answer, “ Please, am I far from Warialda ?” “Oh, no; only about seven miles,” they replied. ‘“Reckon you are the new chum doctor? Come in and have supper.” About 10 p.m. I arrived at Warialda, to find that Dr. —— had returned from the town where he was resting on his way to the coast, as he had received a wire concerning me from the bank manager. It ran as follows :— “Better come back for a few days; your locum will only be a grease-spot soon.” Just imagine, ye medical gentlemen who practise at home at ease, what I had gone through! Putting the dreadful coach journey up from Tamworth out of the question, I had ridden, under trying circumstances, over a hundred and fifty miles in three days and nights, and had practically had no riding experience previously. My strenuous initiation was followed by a blessed lull in distant sick-calls, and Dr. , having remained a few days, once more went away and left me to “take my luck.” In time I became quite an expert bushman, seldom lost my way, and was able to mount and ride most horses, unless they were outlaws or buck-jumpers. Of course, it goes without saying that horses, and good ones, are an absolute necessity in bush practice, and they must be of exceptional soundness and staying power to endure the sudden and trying calls made upon them night and day. An illus- tration may serve to emphasize the need the bush doctor has for a good horse. When I had been in practice some time I wanted a new mount, and heard that a selector of the name of Cavanagh had some fine ones for sale. Accompanied by a friend, Mr. W. E. J. Lee, of the Bank of New South Wales, I rode out to Cavanagh’s place, about seven miles from Warialda, and the horses were trotted out. Although not a judge of horse- flesh, one great, powerful thoroughbred red roan took my fancy, but Cavanagh warned me not to [Photo.”

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A DOCTOR IN buy him, as he was bad-tempered, could buck, and was known to have killed one man by deliberately rolling on him. But I wanted that horse, and in spite of warnings bought him there and then for sixteen pounds, and, what is more, rode him home. On the way a great thunder- storm, followed by a hailstorm, came on; and to my delight Red Beryl, as I named him on the spot, behaved splendidly and did not show any vice. The next day I heard a little more concerning his bad character. Now, Cavanagh, from whom I bought him, had a terrible stutter, and was well known all over the district. As I was riding along the police magistrate met me. Looking at my horse, he said, “ Halloa, doc! What are you doing with that brute? That’s Cavanagh’s horse, isn’t it? He'll kill you if you are not careful. I met Cavanagh the other day tearing down the Binjara road on him, and asked him what was up. ‘ W-w-well, /’m up at P-p-pre-present,’ he said, ‘ but if I d-d-don’t keep this b-blessed horse g-going he'll ch-ch-chuck me off.’ Now, take my advice, doc—don’t keep him.” I am Irish, and I did keep him ; and instead of killing me I believe he saved my life. When I had owned him a few months and had grown accus- tomed to some of his undoubt- edly nasty ways, a messenger came in one evening from Gineroi_ station, some fifteen miles away, saying I was to come out at once, as Mrs. Riley’s little girl was seriously ill. Having saddled Red Beryl I started off with the mes- senger, one Paddy Ryan, and for the first few miles all went well. It was summer- time ; bush fires were raging in many places, and, as luck would have it, one had started not far from the country we would have to pass through. Had the wind not risen, however, we should have left it far on our right. But the wind did rise, and a great wall of fire about five or six miles long and parallel with our track came roaring on to- wards us. At this time we were riding through forest country— living and dead timber, pines and gums. Should we go back or go forward? That was the “AT FULL SPEED, WITH HEADS BENT DOWN CLOSE TO.THE HORSES’ NECKS, WE MADE THE BUSH. 365 question, and there was little choice, except that at one end was my patient. So we pressed on, and now the good breeding, pluck, and fleetness of my much-abused Red Beryl came to my rescue. ‘The track was not over twelve or fifteen feet wide and the trees were thick in some places, though fortunately sparse in others. With a snort and a bound the big horse acknowledged the near presence of danger, as the heat of the ‘approaching flames and. the loud crashing of falling trees came unpleasantly close. Then he seemed to gather himself together for a race for life. By this time the smoke was something awful, and across our path scurried kangaroos and wallabies seeking shelter, while here and there wriggled a black or brown snake, fleeing from the devouring element behind. At full speed, with heads bent down close to the horses’ necks, we made for a haven. The fire was now almost upon us, and blazing trees fell FOR A HAVEN."

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366 every moment alongside or just behind us. In order to keep from suffocating, I tied a silk handkerchief round my mouth and nose, but how the poor horses managed to breathe I know not, and how they kept the track is one of the mysteries of what we call instinct. With the sound of rending and crashing trees and roaring flames and smoke al! around us, that good horse, Red Beryl, never swerved, while Paddy’s mount, a quiet old stock horse, took everything as all in the’ day’s work ; so it happened that after from fifteen to twenty minutes of the hardest and most nerve-rack- ing ride.I have ever done we emerged at the edge of the fire—blackened, scorched, and breathless, but unscathed. I may say here that wards rolled on a friend riding him one day and smashed his arm. He bucked me off once or twice and also rolled upon me, and after this I sold him. The last I heard of him was that he had broken the thigh of his new owner. All the same, he was one of the grandest horses I ever had for long and quick journeys. When first I bought him it used to take any time from fifteen minutes to an hour to catch him in the paddock and bridle him, though by kindness and a little judicious bribery with sugar I taught him to come up and put his head into the bridle when called. but 1 was the only one he would come to. Now, as every doctor knows, a messenger with a sick call always wants the unfortunate medico in a most frightful hurry, and gives him hardly time to dress ; and 1 can tell you it is no Red Beryl after- of mine who was ‘IT USED TO TAKE ANY TIME FROM FIFTEEN MINUTES TO A\ (To be concluded.) THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE AUTHOR, WITH THE HORSE THAT SAVED HIS LIFE. From a Photo. by the American Photo. Co. joke setting off on a long ride at night, straight out of bed, unless you manage to dress quietly and comfortably and have a cup of coffee or tea. Well, whenever an excited messenger arrived in the small hours of the night from some out-station, I would quietly get up and tell him to go out into the paddock and catch my horse and saddle him, remarking, with secret satisfaction, “ By the time you’ve caught him I’ll be quite ready.” Then I would dress and make my cup of coffee, and calmly wait events. In the course of twenty minutes or so in would come an angry and swearing bush- man, saying, ‘‘ Look here, doc, that some- thing horse of yours is the devil! He’s led me round and round that ’ere pad- dock, and now he’s bin and jumped the five-foot fence! An’ he’s grinnin’ at me, he is!” Then I would walk out, hold aloft the bridle, and up would walk the grand old horse and calmly place his head in it, whilst the irate bushman looked on with disgust and made allusions in_ terrify- ing language to “new chum” doc- tors and their deceitful ways. ¥ HOUR TO CATCH HIM.”

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The Tragedy of a Snow-Slide. By WILLIAM GERVAISE. Visitors are always struck by the majestic grandeur of the Rocky Mountains in winter, but few give a thought to the terrible menace that lurks in their snow - covered sides. Here is an absorbing article, illustrated with some wonderful photographs, showing the havoc wrought by the snow-slides, which periodically carry death and destruction to the valleys below. =) UCH has been written in praise of the glorious natural beauties and majestic, rugged grandeur of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. In summer the sight of these grim sentinels, with peaks towering in some cases to a height of thirteen thousand feet against an azure-blue sky, and bathed in strong sunlight, with their brown sides thrown into strong relief by the verdant green of the firs in the valleys below, is, indeed, impressive. But contrast the scene with that presented in the depths of winter. The mountain sides then are covered with a thick pall of snow, and though the scene is picturesque and peaceful, yet it is a peace which is dreaded by those who live in these districts. The slopes are scored and seared with ravines and gulches running in all direc- tions, and the snow, drifting and swirling, settles Ultimately the pressure at in these crevices. the top of the gulch becomes too great and the whole mass of snow begins to move, and finally “ sweeps down the ravine, gathering momentum every second, rush- ing into. the valley below with irresistible force, demolishing everything in its path, and carrying the debris on its bosom till it comes to rest far below. To the miners and other inhabi- tants of these dreary and inhos- pitable regions the snow-slides are a source of the greatest anxiety. The accumulating From a\ THE LIBERTY BELL GOLD-MINE BEFORE THE DISASTER—THE SNOW-SLIDES STARTED FROM THE PEAKS TO snow on the mountain peaks is watched with the keenest apprehension and dread, for the slightest sign of movement is a warning that they must escape to a safe spot, or else be over- whelmed in an avalanche aggregating many thousands of tons in weight. To the railways in particular these slides are a source of constant trouble. As it is, the engineers have their resources taxed to the utmost in clearing the tracks of snow, which drifts into solid masses twenty or thirty feet deep. When to these dangers are added the terrors of a slide, their lot indeed becomes a difficult and dangerous one. In one instance the railway engineers were engaged in ploughing their way through a drift at a point where the track runs at an elevation of ten thousand feet, with the mountain crest towering another thousand feet above it. The mammoth rotary snow-plough, assisted by two powerful engines, THE RIGHT. (Photo.

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368 was steadily but surely forcing its way through the solid drift when suddenly a snow-slide descended. The engines and plough were tossed off the track as if made of cardboard, and one of the locomotives—weighing in itself over fifty tons—was caught up, torn away from its consort, and with its driver and fireman hurled a distance of five hundred feet, rolling over and over like a log, the two men being killed instan- taneously. One of the most terrible of these slides was that which swept down upon the Liberty Bell gold- mine, some two miles distant from the small town of Tellu- ride, in the San Juan district, which has earned an unenviable reputation for snow-slides. In this region the mountains, ‘which are over thirteen thou- sand feet in height, are parti- cularly — favour- able to these snow move- ments, owing to the gulches in theirsides. These slides have, how- ever, been care- fully studied by the residents of the district, and their courses, & = ed anssoans which are invari- ably the same, have been care- fully recorded, together with the periods at which they are most likely to occur. ‘Though the slides occasionally happen in winter-time, the worst season is at the approach of spring, when the snow commences to thaw. At this period the inhabitants maintain a constant vigil, and their knowledge of the topo- graphy of the snow-slides enables them to reach places of safety in the minimum of time. Conse- quently, although the havoc wrought by the slides is considerable, the danger to life and limb is very THE MINE AFTER THE FIRST SLIDE, SHOWING THE DEMOLISHED CORNER OF THE WUNK-HOUSK WHERE TWO MEN WERE KILLED IN THEIR SLEEP— FOREGKOUND IS FROM TWENTY-FIVE TO FORTY FEET DEFY. From a Photo. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. slight. In February, 1903, however, an abnormal movement occurred, and, unfortunately, twenty- three persons lost their lives. A large propor- tion of the fatalities was the result of the initial movement, but two later slides overwhelmed the party of men engaged in the hazardous and heroic work of rescue, and many were hurled to their doom. This disaster is one of the worst in the annals of the district and has left an indelible impres- sion upon those residing there, not only on ac- count of the large loss of life, but owing to the un- usual movement of the snow. The Liberty Bell mine is situ- ated at a point eleven thousand eight hundred feet high, on the mountain _ side, the peaks at the summit rising some twelve hun- dred feet above. The first slide swept down dur- ing the night, striking a corner of the cabins which consti- tuted the miners’ sleeping quarters. 4 The corner of the a’partment was torn com- pletely out, carry- ing away and killing two men | who were asleep | within. The buildings were almost com- pletely buried in the slide, which finally precipitated itself into a gulch just below the mine. : A search and'rescue party was immediately organized, and the expedition was assisted by Dr. J. Q. Allen, of Telluride, who has made a special study of these Colorado snow-slides ; they were further accompanied by Mr. Joseph E. Byers, of the same town, who at great risk to his own person secured the striking photographs which accompany this article> Dr, Allen investigated eu THE SNOW IN THE

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THE TRAGEDY OF A SNOW-SLIDE. 369 and free from ice, which generally constitutes a part of such masses, Trees that stood in the path of the moving wall of snow, ranging from fifteen to eighteen inches in dia- meter, were snapped off at the roots as though they were twigs, while in otker cases the trees were stripped of every branch, leaving the bare trunks twisted and bent into the most fantastic shapes. The unfortunate men who had been oyerwhelmed by the slide were buried in the snow in the gulch below. The rescue party, armed with iron rods twenty feet in length, went strenuously to work, prodding the mass in all directions, and when a victim was located spades and shovels were brought to bear upon the spot, a hole was soon excavated, and the body brought to the sur- face with all possible speed, in the vain hope that life might not be completely extinct. To guard against further disaster a scout armed with a revolver was stationed at the demolished sleeping cabin with his eyes fixed upon the masses of snow left behind at the mountain peak, and at the slightest sign of a movement a shot warned the party é : below to seek shelter. das a a Despite these precautions, how- “THE MANTLE OF DEATH" HE BUILDINGS BURIED BENEATH A HUGE MOUNTAIN OF SNOW. From a Photo. the first slide and found that it descended a vertical dis- tance of some three thou- sand feet from a point well above the timber-line. For the first thousand feet the declivity was very slight, so that the velocity of the movement was not very high. ‘Then, for a distance of some five hundred feet it travelled down a steep gradient, and for the rest of its journey a slightly easier declivity, so that it struck the mine with terrific force.” The depth of the slide varied from twenty-five to forty feet, and it was com- posed entirely of snow packed in the tightest and = tz eescur Parry, Ae 5 E D MEN—SE most solid manner possible Ree al : Vol. xvii.—47, ED WITH TWENTY-FOUT IRON RODS, SEARCHING FOR THE BODIES OF EN MEMBERS OF THIS PARTY WERE OVERWHELMED BY A SECOND SIIDR AND KILLED, [Phote.

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370 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE MINERS QUARTFRS AFTER THE FIKST SLIDF—THR MAN IN THE FOREGROUND IS ARMED WITH A REVOLVER, KEADY TO WARN THE SEAKG)I-PARTY BELOW OF ANY FRESH AVALANCHE. From a Photo, ever, about eleven o’clock in the morning another movement of snow set in, and before the rescue party could effect their escape the slide burst upon them. Eight of the brave rescuers were caught in its terrible embrace and carried away. One man was discovered badly injured, but the other seven men were buried beyond extrication. This slide had followed the track of the first one, though it started a little to one side of it. Owing to the trea- cherous appearance of the snow, together with the fact that there was an appall- ing list of injured, Dr. Allen called a halt in the efforts of the rescue party. The injured were then gathered, and the mournful party set off with their charges to the town. As they were leaving the spot another slide came down, and on this occasion Dr. Allen himself, who has ex- perienced several narrow escapes while investigating these movements, was al- most killed. There was a terrible storm raging, and the driving snow nearly blinded the party. On their way they had to cross the track of a snow-slide, and, realizing this fact, Dr. Allen was unusually vigilant, though the roar of the storm rendered it impossible to hear any other sounds. The doctor was the last member of the procession, and as they were crossing the track in a momentary lull of the elements he caught the sound of snapping branches. THIS PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS THE PATHS OF THE SIX SNOW-SLIDES WHICH OVERWHELMED THE MINE—THEY CAME DOWN LIKE HUGE TORRENTS,

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THE TRAGEDY OF A SNOW-SLIDE. 371 Immediately he realized the import of the ominous sound. Digging his feet into his horse’s flanks, he dashed up the trail of the preceding members of the party. As he passed each man he shouted to them to turn to one side out of the track of the approaching slide. Meanwhile the cracking of the timbers up the mountain side increased in volume as the snow approached. The doctor succeeded in warning the men of their peril, and was just turning round to effect his own escape when the slide caught him. Fortunately he was at the extreme edge of the moving mass, but he, with his horse, was picked up by the travelling mass and together they were tossed to and fro for a few moments, and then hurled with great force on to the mountain side at a point where the slide turned a corner. Unfortunately, four other members of the party were caught in its terrible em- brace and instantly killed, Dr. Allen being the only one to escape, though badly battered and bruised. Had not the slide made a turn at that point he would inevitably have been swept to the same doom as those he had made such strenuous efforts to suc- cour. Mr. Byers himself had some narrow escapes. More than once he only just succeeded in snatch- ing up his camera and darting to safety as the moving snow passed over the point upon which he had been standing just previously. This last slide travelled for over a mile, and, to- gether with three others that followed in its wake during the same day, com- pleted the widespread havoc that :had been wrought by the first move- ment. his It was not until the spring that the precise extent of the destruction could be ascertained. When the snow had disap- peared under the rays of the approaching summer sunthe mine buildings were found to be practically From a) dismantled, only the more stable constructional parts remaining. The vicinity was strewn with great balks of timber torn from the buildings, broken and battered tree-trunks, dismembered branches, boulders, and other debris. The depth of the slide could be realized from the presence of pieces of timber lodged in the branches of trees that had survived the calamity. As the snow vanished in the gulch immediately below the workings huge masses of timber were revealed. The fury of the slide was forcibly demonstrated by the fact that scarcely one piece of timber which had formed part of the buildings was found attached to another. As the traces of winter disappeared the men recovered the bodies of their unfortunate companions, but it was a tardy proceeding, the month of June being WRECKED BUILDINGS AND UPROOTED/TREES. (Photo,

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372 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. goods train and hurled it to destruction down the mountain side. The difficulties of the railway engineers in com- bating natural forces and circumventing these annual visitants were po- tentially shown at the Ophir Loop at Ames, Colorado. The railway station here nestles at the foot of a towering moun- tain, the sides of which at this point are almost perpendicular. When the spring arrived the masses of thawing snow, accu- mulated thousands of feet above, broke loose, tum- bled down the mountain slopes, and came to rest From a} JUNE, WHEN THE LAST BODY WAS RECOVERED. (Photo. The latter was practically wiped off the map; where well advanced before the last of the dead was the building had formerly stood there was no- given up by the snow-slide of five months before. thing left but broken ground and a few gaunt “Occasionally Nature, with her characteristic timbers. The station, or rather its battered eccentricity, upsets : mankind’s careful calculations, This was forcibly demon- strated during the construction of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway through this region. The engineers care- fully studied the tracks of the slides and selected a route which, in their judg- ment, would be be- yond the accustomed paths of the moving snow. But, alas! Nature was not so easily baffled, for the very first spring after the railway was com- pleted the snow-slide took an absolutely new course, over- whelmed the railway, and, as if to com- plete the mortifica- tion of the railway authorities, picked : THE RAILWAY STATION AT OPHIR LOOP, WHICH WAS SWEPT OUT OF EXISTENCE BY A SNOW-SLIDE, up a heavily - laden From a Photo,

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THE TRAGEDY OF A SNOW-SLIDE. 373 m A GENERAL VIEW OF OPHIR LOOP AFTER THE AVALANCHE HAD DONE ITS DEADLY WORK. From a Photo, remains, was found some distance away. It had been picked up bodily and, with logs, tree - trunks, rocks, and other debris, was strewn about the vicinity in a heterogeneous mass. On this occasion the wet snow in_ its descent had picked up hundreds of tons of mud, and the two combined constituted an irresistible bat- tering - ram, while the slime effectively completed the work of destruc- tion, forming a thick layer over the site and converting it into a treacherous morass. No human devices can withstand or divert the paths of these slides, any artificial obstacles, no matter how skil- fully contrived, collapsing like straws before the incalculable force of these From a) annual disturbances, which occur with unerring regularity. The most that can be done is to ascertain the beaten tracks of the slides and then to keep clear of them, trusting to Fate that the movements may not deviate from their accustomed paths. Unfortunately, as expe- rience has repeatedly shown in these regions, Fate is proverbially unkind. THE BATTERED REMAINS OF THE STATION, WITH MASSES OF TIMBER, ROCKS, AND TREES, WERE ee Me BODILY AWAY ON A TORRENT OF SNOW AND BYDs (>) ( C

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ON THE HIGH SEAS: A Budget of Marine Romances. By J. Ostens Grey aNp E. J. Murpuy. Our batch of narratives this month will be found of absolutely fascinating interest, telling of strange happenings, of perils overcome and dangers dauntlessly faced, such as fiction-writer never conceived. First-hand records of this kind refute once for all the idea of the stay-at-home authority that romance and adventure are no longer to be found in the life of the seafarer. ROM time to time we have pub- lished in this Magazine accounts of the terrible hardships voluntarily undergone by conscripts fleeing from the detested yoke of service in the Russian army. Below, nowever, will be found what is perhaps the most impressive narrative of this kind which has ever appeared in our pages. It is related by Mr. J. Ostens Grey, an officer of the steamship Sou/hwark, belonging to the well-known Dominion Line, and had its sequel in the dramatic meeting Mr. Grey describes. It was the second dog-watch, and I was lying on the settee in my comfortable cabin on board the Dominion liner Southwark, enjoying a pipe. Suddenly there came a knock, and at my shouted “Come in!” there entered and stood, hat in hand, a man whom I had frequently noticed amongst the steerage passengers, and in whom I seemed to be, despite myself, unac- countably interested. He wanted to know if his sister might have her trunk out of the hold. Something in the man’s manner, in his very attitude, struck me as being strangely familiar. “Where have I seen you before?” I asked him. ‘Where do you hail from?” “Tam a Pole, sir, but I always tell people I belong to Timruik. I was brought up there.” “ Timruik, in the Sea of Azof?” I continued. “T’ve been there many a time. Did you ever see a steamer called the Ben Lomond there?” “The Ben Lomond!” He fairly gasped che name, and an eager, questioning look leapt into his eyes as he took a quick step forward. “Why, that’s the ship——” Then, simultaneously, we recognised each other, and, as the recollection of the startling circumstances under which I had last seen this man swept over me, I reached out and grasped his hand heartily. It was the memory of an un- paralleled ride across the Sea of Azof on the rudder of a steamer, when, rather than serve as a conscript a ruler whom he hated and despised, or take up arms in the defence of a land and people whom he loathed, the man before me— then a mere boy of nineteen—determined to flee the country and seek freedom and fortune in a foreign land. Standing thus, the minutest details of that perilous journey flashed through my brain, and by some strange freak of memory there pre- sented itself to my mind the history of another tide—set forth in these pages some months ago—so different in itself, yet so similar in its entirety, inasmuch as the circumstances in both cases comprised the very essence of unspeakable peril and endurance. I shall not attempt to draw any comparison between them, but will proceed to narrate Josef Tchester’s story of that terrible day of suffering as nearly as I remember it. It was in the early part of November, 1898, that the steamship Ben Lomond, of North Shields, of which I was mate, was at Temruik, in the south-east corner of the Sea of Azof, discharging the last of a general cargo loaded in the Victoria Docks, London. We had already been to Gibraltar, Malta, Smyrna, Constantinople, and Varna, and this was our last port of call. The greatest dispatch was being used to get finished and away before the ice set in and compelled us to winter there. Even now terrible blizzards were of almost daily occurrence, and the water moved with that sluggish motion which portends the early advent ‘of the ice. With the sun shining brightly in the clear, cloudless sky and a light westerly breeze blowing off the snow-covered Crimean hills, the air was so piercing that one hesitated before baring his hands to the biting atmosphere or uncovering his ears, so snugly ensconced beneath a warm Russian dashilth. Fore and aft one and all viewed with satisfac- tion the haste with which the labourers worked to discharge the ship, and, from the mess-room boy to the captain, we gloried in the fact that we should soon be paddling our way south to the more congenial latitudes of the Mediter- ranean. Among the gang of coarse-clad men and women who unloaded our ship was a dark- skinned, curly-headed youth. Always clean and respectably dressed, he showed up conspicuously in the midst of the evil-smelling, hangdog-

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 375 looking Russian labourers, from whom he held himself carefully aloof—never speaking to them, in fact, unless brought into contact with them in the carrying out of his duties. He was a clerk in the employ of our Greek agent, a man named Leo Stathatus, and as his duties brought him into constant touch with me I began to have quite a liking for the lad, and showed him sundry little kindnesses in the shape of a cup of hot tea or an invitation to sit in my room and warm himself while he over- hauled my stock of books and magazines. As he spoke English sufficiently well to carry on a conversation I often tried to get him to talk of himself, but to all my questions he gave evasive answers, except to tell me that his name was Josef T’chester, that his birthplace was Poland, and that circumstances and poverty had brought him to this place, where he lived with his sister, his only living relative. A day or two later— it was the day before we sailed, I remember — Josef came on_ board looking particularly | gloomy and depressed. ae Always of a taciturn nature, he was now more reserved than ever, and went about his duties with an expression on his face that set me wonder- ing what could be the matter. Even myself, with whom he had hither- to looked forward to having a pleasant chat, he seemed to avoid, approaching me only when absolute necessity compelled him to compare his books with mine. Reluctantly consenting, after repeated invita- tions, to come down to my quarters, he was sitting moodily brooding over a cup of tea when, after many miserable failures to open a con- versation with him, I exclaimed, irritably :— “What on earth is the matter with you, man? Tell me what ails you; perhaps I can help you out of your trouble.” “Help me? Oh, if you could, sir, how I would bless you! It is not only myself you would be helping, but my sister, the only one I have to care for in the world. Mr. Mate” —he looked fearfully round the room, then rose and locked the door—‘ take me with you in this ship, away from this land of slavery, to a an Photo. by] JOSEF TCHESTER AND HIS SISTER, place where I shall be free. Do that, and the blessings of Heaven will follow you wherever you go!” I was thunderstruck, both at his impassioned speech and at his request, and for a while I could do nothing but stare into his eager face. “Take you in the ship with me?” I gasped. “Why, boy, it’s more than my life is worth to take you, a Russian subject, away from here. But why do you want to go?” “Listen, sir, and I'll tell you; then perhaps your heart will soften towards me. I was born of gentle parents in the small town of Czenstochowa, in Poland. My father was a merchant, and as a child I had all that could be desired. Living in the lap of luxury, watched over by loving parents, with a sister whom I idolized — she who is with me now--I was the happiest of children. But there came a day when a party of grey- coated soldiers marched into our home, seized my father, and tore him away from his distracted wife and wailing children. Dragged through the snow and lashed by the whips of the dastard Cossacks he was driven to Siberia, to a living death in the salt-mines, for a conspiracy against the Czar of which he was entirely innocent. His lands and_ property were confiscated, and my mother and sister and I driven out into the cold to starve to death in the snow. “Then my mother died ; the terrible priva- tions and the aching of her broken heart were too much for her. She died like a wolf by the roadside, and we children buried her body beneath the roots of an ice-laden tree. “For nearly a year my sister and I wandered on—she was then about fourteen—ragged, foot- sore, and starving. Working where we could, sleepifg in fields and outhouses, sometimes chased off the farmers’ lands by dogs, but occa- sionally receiving help from those more kindly disposed, we made our way to Budapest, where we had relations. We arrived there after many months of hardship, only to find them gone, leaving no trace behind them. “At last we arrived in this place, where we (Mr. Grey.

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376 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. have remained ever since. My sister worked for me and educated me, so that when I was old enough I obtained a clerkship in the house in which I now serve.” “Then why do you want to clear out just when you are beginning to get on your feet?” I asked. “Wait, wait, sir, and you shall hear. I am now nineteen years of age. In two years’ time I must go as a conscript, wear the hated uniform of a ruler whom I loathe and detest, take up arms in defence of a land which robbed my father of his life and liberty, murdered my mother, and drove my sister and me to the life we now lead.” His voice rose as he proceeded, and his hands clenched and unclenched themselves convulsively. ‘ Never, sir; never!” he burst out, vehemently. “I'll shoot the officer like a hound with the rifle he dares to put into my hand ; I'll do anything sooner than submit ; I'll die sooner, and my sister shall die with me. But” —here his voice sank lower—“ we have talked the matter over, my sister and I, and I have determined to leave the country. With two years’ grace I could bury myself in some part of the world where even the long-reaching arm of the Russian Government cannot get me, and, when the Czar’s myrmidons have forgotten Josef Tchester she shall join me and we will be happy again. “Mr. Mate, sir, you have been good to me— the first, I believe, who ever showed me any kindness ; have pity on me and take me with you. Hide me somewhere, anywhere where the searchers will not find me. You have a sister, perhaps, yourself, or a mother ; think of them and help me away from this cursed land.” The tears chased each other down the boy’s cheeks, and his hand gripped my arm tightly. Moved though I was by his impassioned pleading, yet I could not and dared not help him. I was compelled to refuse him, though his heartbroken entreaties made my eyes turn misty. Even the scant privilege of stowing himself away and risking discovery I denied him ; I knew that others had noticed my friend- ship for the lad, and that they would not hesi- tate a moment in swearing that I had helped him. “You must try some other way, lad,” I said. “Tf you are determined to leave the country, don’t try to leave it in a ship; it’s about the worst way you could choose. And you must promise me, on your honour, not to stow away here, or else I shall get into no end of trouble. Will you promise ?” Only for a moment did he hesitate; then, swallowing the lump in his throat, he cried :-— “Yes, sir, 1 promise. I believe you would help me if you could, and I have yet another chance.” He turned and went hurriedly from the room, leaving me to my own gloomy thoughts. “I'll promise not to stow away,” he muttered ; “ but I'll leave with the ship all the same !” That evening he waited on board till it was quite dark and the last labourer had left in the lighter, with the exception of a dozen or so who remained to finish the ship. Then, instead of pulling ashore in his little “pram ”—a thin- planked, square-built box of a boat about nine feet long—Tchester rowed .out into the bay, turned about, and paddled back to the darkness under our stern, where he made his boat’s painter fast to a shackle under the quarter and close to the rudder. Hauling her close up out of sight of prying eyes, he waited, determined that the ship should take him away from this place, if not on board as he had hoped, at least towing him behind. Foolish lad, he knew not the awful risk he was running ! Till the early hours of the morning the dis- charging was carried on, so that we might leave with the first streaks of daylight. It was a beautiful night, moonless, yet with a million stars scintillating aloft. Not a breath of air stirred, but the thermometer showed several degrees of frost, and the solidified breath of the men hung in icicles from their unkempt whiskers. * Under the stern, unseen and unthought of, Josef lay in his little boat, sleeping peacefully. Warmly clad in a great sheepskin coat, thick boots, and with a dashi/:k pulled over his head, he did not feel the cold, but slept as warmly as though he had been in his own bed. Ever and anon the boat would bump up against the sharp edge of the propeller blade ; yet, all unconscious of the danger that menaced him, he slumbered on. The cargo was finished, and the men were swinging themselves down the side into their lighter, when Tchester moved uneasily and woke up. Was it the shouts of the labourers, he wondered, that had aroused him, or was it his dream that cold water was laving his face ? He looked down. Sure enough there was water in the boat! A faint gurgling came to his ears, and he bent forward, peering into the bows. The boat was leaking; he could plainly see the water gushing in through a small hole in the planks. ‘Taking his handkerchief he attempted to stop the flow, but as he pressed it into the hole the rotten wood crumbled away and a gaping hole revealed itself to his startled gaze,

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 377 Instinctively he divined the reason of the leak—the perpetual bump, bump against the blade of the screw had eaten away the frail timber, and he reviled himself bitterly for his want of thought. The water was up to his ankles now ; he must get to work to keep the boat afloat. Hurriedly he sought and found the tin in the stern sheets and sat down to his task. Bale, bale, bale, first with one hand and then with the other, till his arms ached and his back felt like ‘breaking. But it was of no avail; the water persistently gained upon him. What a predicament ! It was no use to hail the lighter’; she was already out of sight in the shadow of the land. Never- theless, he shouted—shouted till his voice was hoarse in the vain hope that someone on board might hear him ; but in the hurry and bustle of clearing the ship for sea his voice was unheard. Gradually the boat sank down ; another minute and it would be under water. Must he godown with her? If so, it was all up with him; he knew he could not live ten minutes in that icy water. He stood up and reached his hands _appeal- ingly above his head. Adangling chain touched his fingers. Eagerly he clasped it and held on, just as the boat reeled and sank under him, leaving him clinging to that thin chain. With a mut- tered prayer for strength, he loosed one cling- ing hand and moved it cau- tiously forward. Another reach, and his feet touched some- thing. It was Vol. xvii,—48, Sa What should he do?” “THE BOAT REELED AND SANK UNDER HIM." the rudder; and then: he knew what the chain was which he clasped so desperately. As the little boat under him had given its final stagger he had caught hold of the guide-chain which is shackled on to every steamer’s rudder, to be used in case of a break-down with the steering gear. Thankful for this brief respite from the immediate fear of drowning, Tchester clambered cautiously up, gripping the sides of the rudder with his knees. Up and up he went, till, with infinite care, he raised his leg and sat astride the chain with a leg on each side, his body pressed*hard against the rudder, and his cold hands convulsively gripping the slimy, ice-laden plates. He was safe, for a time at least, and presently he was smiling at his past fears. He was bound to be seen by someone before the ship left, and he would continue shouting until he made himself heard. The worst that could happen then was that he would be sent ashore; at least he would be no worse off than before he entered upon this desperate undertaking. And would not his sister be glad to see him again —she to whom he thought he had bidden a long farewell when he left home yesterday morning ? He _ looked upwards; the stern of the ship overhung him many feet and seemed to threaten him. Unless anyone leaned right out over the taffrail he could not be seen. “Help, help!” he shouted. “ Ben Lomond, ahoy!” But only the mock- ing echo of his own voice was hurled back at

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378 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. him from the gloomy, cavern- like depths of the vessel’s quarters. Hark! What was that? He almost over- balanced him- self by the start he gave, as a dull rumble fell upon his strain- ing ears, and a faint vibration ran the length of the ship and shook him on his insecure perch. He ceased shouting and listened; the rumble con- tinued, with an occasional ring of iron upon iron. Then the truth burst upon him in all its horrors— they were heay- ing up the anchor! Again and again he raised his voice in a wild cry for help, again and again did the echoes mock him; the air seemed filled with taunting, jeering voices. His inability to do anything to help himself was maddening. Yet something must be done, and that quickly. He would lower himself into the water, swim along- side the ship, and hail them. They were bound to hear him then, and. Swish—grind—swish—the propeller was turn- ing; the ship was under way! With frozen arms and aching knees he glued himself to the rudder, resolved to fight to the end, yet knowing that death was near. One—two—three—four ; one—two—three— four! Quicker and quicker revolved the sweep- ing blades below him, and he swayed from side to side with the violent vibration. The ice-cold water, churned to a boiling cauldron, rushed madly past him and circled rouhd his feet, rising in the air in a gleaming “WITH FRUZEN ARMS AND ACHING KNEES HE GLUED HIMSELF TO THE RUDDER.” white body; then, _ striking the plates under the stern, it descended upon him in a perfect cataract of freezing spray. It was all over. Another moment and he would be past all succour. If he fell now it would be to plunge head- long on to those grinding, slash- ing blades. Well, he would never be a con- script, that was some _ satisfac- tion. - But his sister—he had almost forgot- ten her! He looked down and shuddered as he mentally counted the circling blades. He felt dizzy ; his hands were slipping; he was becoming benumbed. Screaming aloud in his fear, he clutched madly at the unsympathetic iron plates of the rudder, clawing and scratching till his fingers were lacerated and bleeding. One —two—three —four ; one—two—three four! How maddening that monotonous beat was becoming! The sound bored its way into his throbbing brain till it felt like bursting. He prayed for death, prayed for pity—prayed and screamed till the ice-laden water choked his utterance. The rudder swung hard round to starboard as they passed the outer spit and set the course for Kertch, and as it brought up against the gudgeons the lad’s left hand struck something which yielded to the swing. Turning his eyes without moving his head, he glanced fearfully around. Joy of joys! he discovered it to be the boat’s painter, which, broken and relieved of its burden, dangled loosely with its end in. the water.

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ON THE Not -knowing how, yet feeling that it would be of some use to him, he cautiously reached out one hand and grasped it. Then the rudder swung back again amidships. The feel of the rope seemed to give him a new lease of life. Remembering that above his head he had noticed, in the growing day-. light, another large shackle, he determined to attempt to pass the end of the rope through it; that done and with the end fastened under his arms he would at least be safe from falling off. Inch by inch, and with infinite care, he reached upwards and felt for the ring, found it, and passed the end downwards; then a_ gentle pull and the rope slipped through and en- folded him in its coils. Now came the most serious part—to get the HIGH. SEAS. 379 of his muscles relaxed and his body sank down - and hung limply in the supporting noose. And now began, in real earnest, the monotony of that terrible, solitary ride. Now that he was safe frotn falling, the mani- fold horrors of the situation rushed over him in all their para- lyzing fullness. A great sick- ness came upon him, and be- neath the awful strain he all but collapsed. The beating of the swirling pro- peller throbbed through his brain and ham- mered at his temples unceas- ingly. One —- two — three — four ; one—two —three—four ! He feared to look, yet some- thing seemed to compel him to drag his gaze downward, and as each keen blade cut its way through the foaming water it seemed to him that an answer- ing stab passed through his reel- rope fast round ing head. his body. One And how cold —two—three— he was; the four ; one—two blood in his p= three — four ! ““HIS RODY SANK DOWN AND HUNG LIMPLY IN THE SUPPORTING NOOSE. veins seemed Would that to have become maddening beat never cease for a moment ? Grasping the rope overhead he pulled it tight and slowly raised his cramped, half-frozen body from the rudder-plates. Then, passing the end under his left arm, he gripped it there while he screwed his hand behind him, caught the rope, dragged it round his back, under his right arm, and so on in front of him. It was easier than he had thought. A bowline in the end com- pleted the manceuvre, and when that was made fast beyond the possibility of slipping he allowed his aching arms to sink to his sides ; the tension stagnant. He tried beating his hands and feet against the rudder to induce circulation, but his vitality was too low now to allow of very much exertion. In ever-falling cascades the water dashed over him and drove the breath out of his weary body. Luckily for him he had retained the sheepskin coat, yet, in spite of its waterproof qualities, some little water found its way in under the collar and trickled gradually and persistently over the benumbed flesh beneath. Already icicles were hanging from his sea- boots and from the skirt of his coat, and creep-

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380 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ing over him, stealing away his very life, was a feeling as though a great, icy hand was being placed on his heart. With a start he woke himself from this grow- ing apathy. He would not give in; he would fight to the last. Had he not sworn he would endure any hardships rather than become a conscript? Besides, there was Pauline, his sister; the thought of her ought to give him courage. One—two—three-—four ; one --two—three— four! Still that ceaseless beating continued. Again he was compelled to look at the swirling blades, to count them in their everlasting revolutions. What a fascination they had for him—a fascination which momentarily grew as he watched ! He could not take his eyes from them; he must count and count and count. One blade there was with a piece chip- ped off the end. He felt himself watching for it and noting its every appearance. He bent his head far forward and stretched his hands towards them. They seemed to be coming to him; each one of them appeared suddenly to have become imbued with life. The interstices of the water-worn edges seemed like a hundred eyes looking up into his. Was he going mad? He groaned aloud in his agony, till, by a great effort of will-power, he dragged his eyes away from those beckoning blades. Next a wondrous calm came over him. The violent beating of his heart ceased. A great sense of weariness possessed his whole being, and he became lost to his immediate surround- ings. He felt himself falling through space, and instinctively grasped the rope above his head. The heavy lids fell over his weary eyes and, still mechanically counting those circling blades, he lost consciousness. And that is how we found him, ice-coated and apparently lifeless, after we had rounded te our anchorage at Yenikale and our attention had been called to him by the shouting of the people on the tramp steamer Fi/zroy. Quickly we had him in our boat and conveyed ashore to the lazaretto, where the authorities re- ceived and sent him to the hospital. That was the last I ever expeated to see of Josef Tchester. THE 5s. “ TCHESTER MADE HIS TERRIBLE JOURNEY ACROSS THE SEA OF AZOF. From a Photo. BEN LOMOND"— iT WAS ON THE RUDDER OF THIS SHIP THAT JOSEF From Timruik to Kertch is about fifty miles, and for five and a half hours had this boy endured untold agonies. How he lived through it all was a mystery; yet, after a month in hospital, he recovered and was sent home by the authorities, whom he managed to persuade —as was really the fact—that his position on the rudder was entirely due to accident. In spite of his awful experience, his deter- mination to leave the country was no less keen, and some twelve months later he stowed himself away in the hold of a grain-laden steamer bound to Marseilles. From there he eventually made his way to England, where, some time later, he was joined by his beloved sister, and, shaking the dust of the Old World off their feet, they, with many of their countrymen, sailed westward to the Land of the Maple Leaf. Strictly speak- ing, our next nar- rative, set forth by Mr. E. J. Murphy, of Liverpool, is not a sea story at all, seeing that its action takes place in a West African village. As it happened to a couple of sailors, however, and is very typical of the perilous scrapes into which seamen have a curious knack of precipitating themselves, we venture to include it in the series. About eight years ago I was an officer on board the Elder- Dempster steamer Roguelle, which was lying alongside the wharf at Bathurst, on the river Gambia, West Africa. My brother- officers were lying about the deck in chairs, for it was Sunday, and we were making ita real day of rest. : I was sitting on the poop talking to the purser, drinking in the cool and refreshing sea breeze that was blowing up the river, when the purser’s boy—a little, hunch-backed native—came up to us and, addressing his master, asked if he could go home to see his father. “Oh, that just reminds me,” said the purser ; “your father is a King up here somewhere, isn’t he?” “Yes, massa,” replied the boy; “’e lib up de tibber, an’ I want to go an’ see ’im. P’haps massa would like to come see my father?” “What do you say?” said the purser, turning

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 38: to me. swab?” “I don’t mind if I do,” I replied. “We might as well go with him as loaf round the deck.” “All right, you nigger,” shouted the purser, throwing the book he had in his hand at the boy’s head. “Go and get yourself ready, and don’t be too long.” When the boy saw his master get up off his chair he turned and fairly flew down the poop ladder, for he knew that if he stopped he would receive the toe of the purser’s boot on some part of his body. It was a wonder to me that the youngster stopped with him so long, for there was never a time that the purser passed him that he didn’t kick or cuff him, and usually for no reason whatever. When the purser left the poop I went to my room, filled my cigarette-case, and then put my sun-helmet on. Before leaving I gazed round the room for a while, wondering if I should require anything else, when my eyes fell upon my re- volver. I had been shooting at bottles earlier in the morn- ing and had thrown it on my bed; so, thinking it might come in useful, I reloaded it and stuck it in my hip- pocket. There had been several people murdered by the natives a few months previous ; there was no harm in taking precau- tions. Well for us was it that I did so! When I reached the gangway the purser and his boy were waiting for me, so we left the ship together and walked through the town towards the bush. I noticed that my companion had his camera with him, and as we passed through the town he took several photo- graphs. We soon left the “Shall we go up with the little black ““HB LOST CONFIDENCE IN HIMSELF AND MADE A HEADLONG DASH OVER THE REST OF THE BRIDGE.” town behind and settled down to a good swing- ing walk, never thinking of stopping until our guide halted beside a small creek, which he told us we had to cross. I looked at my watch and found that we must have been walking for nearly two hours; we had been so interested in the scenery that we hadn’t noticed the time pass. We questioned the boy as to how we were to cross the creek. He pointed to a shaky-looking bridge made out of creepers and cane-like boughs, suspended between two large trees. There were a couple of natives crossing it at the time, and as I noticed how they threw their arms and legs about to keep their balance, and the way the crazy structure swung to and fro, I wondered whether it would not be better to wade through the creek and only get my lower half wet than to try the bridge and take my chance whether I got all wet or all dry. Finally, plucking up courage, I climbed on the bridge and commenced to cross it, and in a few seconds I was on the opposite bank. The boy came next, carry- ing the purser’s camera. The purser followed, walking bravely across until he reached the centre. Then he lost confidence in himself and made a headlong dash over the rest of the bridge. He would have got across all right if his foot had not caught under one of the creepers and sent him flying off the bridge. He fetched up with a splash on a little pile of mud that adorned the edge of the bank, and promptly com- menced calling the bridge nasty names. When 1 started laughing at him he called me a fool, leaped to his feet, and kicked his unfortunate boy. “T wish you would stop kicking

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382 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. that boy,” I told him. ‘Just remember we’re in the bush. If he complains to his father when we get to the village, what is to prevent him from slitting our throats ?” “Oh, you needn’t be frightened,” said the purser, lightly, looking round for the boy, who was sitting on the trunk of a tree about twenty yards off; “they won’t dare to touch us.” “Hey, you nigger,” shouted my companion, “how much farther have we got to go to your father’s confounded town?” The boy pointed towards a part of the bush that was closely packed with trees, and shouted back :— “One half-hour more, massa ! ” “All right; go on and lead the way, then,” — answered the purser. We had been in fairly - open country before we crossed the creek, and toa certain extent knew which way we had come. But now we were passing through thick bush; the treestowered high above us, and the dense foliage shut out the sky from our view. There was a sort of path leading through the forest, but only those who had traversed it many times could ever hope to find their way through it. At times we had to push bushes to one side to make a passage. We had been walking in this way for about half an hour when we suddenly came into the daylight again. “Dis be my father’s place,” said the boy, pointing to- wards a cluster of huts a few yards off. ‘He lib in de middle of de village, so suppose you come, I take yo’ dere.” “Hold on untit I take a snap-shot of your father’s country,” said the purser. He took his camera and snapped a few huts in front of us. After he had finished we moved on and entered the village, followed by about fifty children, who gazed at us as if we were curiosities. The men and women of the village just peeped out of the corners of their huts and grinned at us. “ Hold on a bit,” said the purser, slinging his camera to the front and turning round. ‘1 am going to take a photograph of these kids.” He stopped and pointed the camera towards the children, but before he had even time to see MK, BE. J. MURPHY, WHO HERE TELUS HIS RXCITING EXPFRIENCES IN A WEST AFRICAN VILLAGE, Krom a Photo. if he had them in the finder, the whole pack set up an unearthly howl and fled. The place was clear of all human beings—except ourselves— inside of two seconds. They dived under the corners of huts, got behind trees, and vanished in all directions ; it was marvellous where they all went to in such a short space of time. The purser, annoyed, told our guide to try and per- suade them to come out again, but all in vain, so we had to turn away and continue our walk to the King’s hut. We arrtved at the Royal palace a few minutes later, and found His Majesty standing outside, surveying a few pieces of clothing that were lying on the ground and had recently been washed. He was a tall man, being fully six feet in height and broad in pro- portion. He wore a long white robe that reached to just above his ankles, and a tight-fitting skull-cap of the same stuff. When we walked up to him he scrutinized us closely, eyeing every little thing that was attached to our persons, and not taking the slightest notice of his son, who, to my knowledge, he had not seen for at least six months. After he had finished in- specting us to his satisfac- tion, the King turned and spoke to his son, and, I sup- pose, asked him who we were. When they had had quite a long conversation we were invited into one of the huts and told to take a seat on the floor, a mat being provided for us to sit on. We tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, for we were tired after our long walk. We had left the ship about noon; it was now three o'clock, so we thought we would take a little rest and then start on our return journey. Presently the purser pulled out his flask of whisky, and very politely asked the King if he would have a drink. The old fellow didn’t understand what he said, but he took the flask and turned it over several times, finally unscrew- ing the top and placing it to his lips. Before the purser was fully aware of what was happen- ing, he had emptied it and was calmly stowing it away inside his robe. My surprised companion tried to get it back, but the King told his son that he was going to retain it as a keepsake.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 383 “Look here, boy,” said the annoyed purser, “if your father is going to keep that flask, tell him we want something to drink in return for it ; tell him we are thirsty.” When the boy had acquainted his father with our wants, the King turned and clapped his hands, and a few seconds later an old woman entered. The King spoke a few words to her and she departed, to return accompanied by a young woman, who had a child on her back and was carrying a bowl of palm wine in her hands. The lad told us that these were “two of his mothers ” ; one was his “ oldest mother” and the other was his “ youngest ;” he had several others in the buts around. We drank the palm wine with gusto, for we were very thirsty. Presently the boy came over and told us that the King was going to have a feast that night, and that we must stop toit. It wasn’t “Will you stop?” it was “ You'll Aave to stop !” The purser became very indignant at this, and ordered the boy to get ready for leaving at once. But the youngster only laughed at him, and then walked out of the hut. My com- panion went after him, but came back a few seconds later saying there were four big natives outside and they had ordered him back. Mean- while the King eyed us up and down for a while—I suppose he was looking for more THE KING'S HUT. “keepsakes ”—and then turned and walked out of the hut, making signs towards the sun and his stomach. When we were left by ourselves we looked at each other stupidly, but neither of us spoke for several minutes. I was wondering if the boy had really told his father of the way he had been ill-treated by the purser. If so, and the old King took it into his head to do us harm, there was nothing in the world to prevent him. We were miles away from any civilized place, and we had left the ship without telling a soul where we were going. As far as I could see, things looked very serious. Just then 1 thought of my revolver, so I took it out of my hip-pocket and placed it inside of my flannel shirt, because I was only wearing a light duck coat and trousers, and the weapon would soon be noticed if I left it in my pocket. “Say,” said the purser, suddenly breaking the silence, “we're in a nice fix, aren’t we? I wonder what that old scoundrel meant by rubbing his stomach and pointing to the sun. Did he mean that he was going to have dinner off us, or was he inviting us to eat ?” “You heard what the boy said as well as 1 did,” I said, shortly. “If you hadn’t been so confoundedly cruel to him this wouldn’t have happened. If we get clear of this without getting our throats cut we shall be lucky.” “Oh, dry up!” said the purser, irritably, stretching himself on the mat and putting the camera under his head. ‘“ They won’t dare to touch us. Anyhow, I’m going to have a sleep until the circus begins.” He closed his eyes, and shortly afterwards was fast asleep. He had been a long time on the African coast, and I suppose he thought he knew all about the natives. But I didn’t like the way the old King had eyed us, and the evil look that came into his eyes when the boy spoke to him made mefeel illatease. I sat on my mat and gazed through the opening of the hut, trying to think of a way to escape, but none came to my thoughts. The inhabitants of the village seemed to be very busy, for they were hurrying to and fro with armfuls of wood, and I sat watching them rather dubiously. When the sun sank and the shadows of even- ing darkened, I noticed a glare in the sky. I knew then that they had built a fire somewhere in the village, and were going to have a perform- ance of some sort. I was just going to wake

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384 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. my companion to tell him, when in walked the old King, followed by several of his subjects, all fantastically dressed in different-coloured robes. They aroused the purser; then the King called one of his men forward, spoke to him, and motioned to us. ‘The fellow walked up and told us in very broken English that the feast was ready and we were to come. I asked him why we were kept prisoners, but he made no answer, walking back to his place again. We saw that it was useless to resist, so we got on our feet and accompanied them outside. Walking along for a couple of hundred yards, we came to an opening on the outskirts of the village, which was surrounded by trees. In the centre was a huge fire, with several large pots suspended over it. All around, at a distance of about twenty feet from the blaze, sat the in- habitants of the village, chattering like a lot of monkeys. When we made our appearance they stopped, and the King, stepping to the front, gave them a short address about something, occasionally pointing to us, whereupon the natives looked fiercely in our direction. After he had finished His Majesty sat down on a sort of throne that had been prepared for him and raised his hand. At this signal several of the natives rose and, walking to the pots, com- menced baling out their contents and handing the mess to the guests around the fire. “ By Jove!” said the purser. “It’s palm-oil chop! I hope they give us some; I am just dying with hunger.” When everybody—save ourselves—was served the King raised his wooden spoon and com- menced operations, and the rest of the crowd immediately followed suit. Suddenly my companion stood up, asking the King, in indignant tones, why we were made prisoners. His answer was a blow on the side of the head, coming from the club of one of the guards who were standing behind us. The purser dropped to the ground like a log, for the blow nearly knocked the senses out of him. Thereupon the King and his subjects set up a how! of mocking laughter. When my unfortunate friend recovered his wits he sat staring into the fire with a lugubrious expression on his face. I followed his example, wondering what the next move of our captors was going to be. I was determined to shoot the King and a few of his followers if they started any more violence ; and yet I didn’t want to start firing until I really knew what they intended to do with us. However, they didn’t trouble us again until they had finished gorging themselves. Then a couple of natives went round with large bowls of liquor, which turned out to be gin, for I saw them breaking the boxes open and pouring the contents of the bottles into the bowls. I recog- nised the boxes, too, for we had half a cargo of the same sort on board. I wanted to tell the purser, but I was afraid. I remembered that there was a nigger behind me with a club in his hand, and, as he might have objected, I said nothing. The King had two or three long pulls out of his bowl ; then he walked over to where I was sitting and started to have another good look at me—a casual observer might have thought I was his long-lost brother by the way he stared at me. After he had finished his stare he stooped down and examined my chain, then took out my watch and scanned that. Think- ing he would like to examine it a little closer, he unfastened it from my coat, had a good look at it, and put it inside his robe. I didn’t dispute his right to it so long as he thought he had a better claim to it than I had, for they were only cheap ones—and I knew there was a hulking villain behind me with a club in his hand. He started on the purser next, and seeing that there was nothing on him that was worth taking, except the camera—which neither he nor any of the others would touch—he commenced to look savage, and was just going to say some- thing when his eyes fell upon my friend’s ring. It was a nice ring and one the purser valued, being a snake fashioned in gold with two large rubies for eyes. The old King’s eyes lighted up as he saw it, and, stooping down, he commenced to examine it. Thinking he would like that as well, he took it off the unresisting purser’s finger and tried it on his own. It fitted his little finger to a nicety, so he left it there and walked back to his throne, quite delighted with himself. I was just beginning to wonder if he wanted any more keepsakes, when one of the King’s followers came over to where I was sitting and had a good look at my boots, afterwards examining the purser’s. Being quite satisfied that my companion’s were the ones he wanted— for he had the bigger foot—he stooped down, took them off his feet, and carried them over to the King. His Majesty tried them on his feet, but they wouldn’t fit; so the warriors tried them on, but they, too, could only get their toes into them. ‘They were, therefore, thrown back to the purser, who gladly put them on again. In the meanwhile the gin was going around pretty freely, and the gathering was getting very drunk. Some of them had picked up burning brands and were dancing around the fire like maniacs, brandishing the flaming sticks above their heads. One fellow came dancing past where we were sitting, carrying a brand in each

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“SOME OF THEM HAD PICKED UP BURNING BRAN THE FIRE LIKE MANIACS.” hand, and wher he got close to us he com- menced knocking them together, sending a shower of sparks flying all over us. One of the King’s followers, no doubt thinking it was a pity to destroy good clothing, came over to me and relieved me of my coat, putting it on himself, and a guard, following his example, took my helmet off and stuck it on his own head. I also noticed that a couple of the others were despoiling my companion. By this time the whole community were fairly maddened with gin, and I began to think that it was time we made a dash for it before we lost our lives. I accordingly whispered to the purser to stand by to make a dash through the guards, for I could see that they had backed away clear of the flying sparks. Once upon our feet I knew I could clear a passage through them with my revolver, and then we should have to run for it. Vol. xvii.—49. AND WERE DANCING AROUND HIGH SEAS. 385 The King, who had been drink- ing more gin than anyone else, was also getting the fever of the dance in him, for he had risen from his seat and was prancing round with the rest. As he passed us he grab- bed a flaming stick from one of his men and threw it into the purser’s face. Luckily for him the un- lighted end struck him on the chest and rebounded. “Nowis the time ; jump to your feet!” I cried, and pulled my revolver out as I rose. As I stood up and was about to turn round a nigger rushed at me with a flaming brand, throwing it as he came. I stooped, and the brand went flying over my head ; then I fired and dropped him. ‘Turning round I shot at the guards, who sprang to one side, making a passage for us. In an instant we were off through the village as hard as we could run, with a howling mob of drunken natives behind us. We had the advantage of them, for they were intoxicated and we were sober, and we soon left them behind. Reaching the outskirts of the village, and knowing that we had a good start, we stopped to con- sider what we should do. The purser was for going into the bush, trusting to luck to find our way back, but I wouldn’t consent. Our enemies knew every inch of it, and would soon catch us if we tried to escape that way. “Why not hide in one of their huts?” I said. “ They will never think of looking for us there.” There was a hut a few yards away, surrounded by palings, so we climbed over these and crept into the shanty, where we lay quiet to await developments. Several minutes later a mob of about twenty men passed by and disappeared into the bush. They didn’t stop there long looking for us, for in about half an hour they came staggering back and passed on to finish their drunken orgy. We hadn't any idea of what the time was, and we knew it was no use starting back until daybreak, for in the dark we could never hope to find the path. We accordingly decided to stop where we were and keep watch. I sat on the floor of the hut on one side of the entrance with the revolver in my hand, and the purser sat on the other side armed with a billet of

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386 wood that we had found in the hut. ‘The billet of wood was to hit the owner of the hut over the head with if he came home before we departed, because it would make less noise than the revolver. I cannot say how long I kept watch, but I have a faint recollection of hear- ing the purser snor- ing, and I was just going to rouse him when I must have gone to sleep myself. When I woke up, with a start, the day- light was streaming through the door of the hut. | Opposite me lay the purser, peacefully | slumber- ing. I jumped up and gave him a kick. “Come on,” I said, “let’s make a start; broad daylight.” He scrambled to his feet, and we were just going to make a start when we heard a footstep outside and in THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. it’s “) LEVELLED THE REVOLVER AT HIS HEAD.” staggered a big native. Promptly I leaped between him and the door- way and levelled the revolver at his head. He obviously knew what a revolver was, for he went down on his knees, put up his hands, and started jabber- ing —I suppose asking me not to shoot him. I motioned for him to get up; then I drew a ship on the floor of the hut and made signs that I wanted to be taken through the bush. Meanwhile the purser — still hug- ging his beloved camera — took a snap-shot of our hiding-place. eo = Bas THE HUT IN WHICH THE AUTHOR AND HIS COMPANION TOOK KEFUGE, From a Photo. sense would shoot him if he “We might wan tit to identify the place if we ever get back to the ship,” he said, mournfully. The frightened native soon found the path when we got \ into the bush. 4 bit stupid from the effects He was a of the gin, but he had the to know that I took us the wrong road. After a good half-hour’s walk we came to the primitive suspension __ bridge, crossed it, and after about another hour’s walk came to familiar land-marks. We let our guide go then, hurrying his footsteps by firing a couple of shots over his head. We arrived on board the ship at half- past seven—a sadly dilapidated - looking pair indeed. Our trousers and shirts— our sole attire —were covered with mud, and badly burnt in places by the sparks. I was keen on report- ing the matter to the police, but the purser said it would be better to let the matter stand as it was, explaining that if we lodged a complaint it would only mean delay for the ship; or, worse still, we should be kept in Bathurst and the ship would go on without us. And as I had shot one of our assail- ants, and my com- panion didn’t want to acknowledge that it was entirely through him that we got into the mess, we decided to keep our own counsel. We left Bathurst that night, and I have never been there since— nor do I want to.

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THE ORGAN MYSTERY. Totp sy Dr. Ropert J. FLoyp anp Set Down py L. S. MERCHANT. Concerning this remarkable narrative Mr. Merchant writes: “I obtained the story from the one who lived it, Dr. Robert J. Floyd, making’ notes from which I wrote it out. I have no reason to doubt his word, and if he were still living I am sure that he would attest to the authenticity of the facts.” * OR some time prior to 1873 I was practising medicine in New York City, far away from the little Western town where I was born. Late one evening in that year I came back to my office (surgery) after a particularly hard day’s work, to find a message awaiting me asking me to go at once to a house some distance away to see a sick man. ‘The call came from a woman who let apartments, and who once upon a time I had treated successfully for a very serious complaint. “Well, my dear sir,” I said, ‘‘ what can I do for you?” “Do?” he answered. “ Why, cure me of this terrible pain—it is simply sapping my life away ! Mrs. Sturgess sent for a doctor who lives next door, when I was taken ill two hours ago. He came in and looked at me and asked me a question or two. Then I asked him to tell me what ailed me, and he answered me with a long- winded dissertation that I could make neither head nor tail of. So I just told him to get out, as I wanted someone to doctor me Hurriedly swallowing a cup of coffee, I started out again in the storm. Upon reaching the house I was met at the door by Mrs. Sturgess herself. “I am glad you have come, doctor,” she said; “one of my lodgers is very ill. He told me,” she con- tinued, smiling, “that if I knew a sensible doctor who would not poison him and charge ten dollars for the job, to send for him ; so I sent for you, Dr. Floyd, thinking you would be able to fill the bill.” “Thank you for your recom- mendation, Mrs. Sturgess,” I replied. “Show me to his room and I will see what I can do for him.” She led the way upstairs to a small room at the rear of the house, where upon the bed I saw a man about seventy years of age, who seemed to be suffering great pain. His face wore an expression which I do not recall having seen outside of an asylum for the insane. It was a hunted look, as if he were trying, but unsuccess- fully, to get away from haunting memories. * In an affidavit sworn before Mr. James Oswald, Commissioner of Deeds for the city of Buffalo, N.Y., U.S.A., and witnessed by Mr. J. H. Price, Clerk of the Supreme Court’ of the County of Erie, Mr. Merchant deposes, as stated above, that the story was told to him by Dr. Floyd, 2nd further mentions that photographs Of the manor-house and graveyard referred to in the narrative are not available, as the site has been used for business purposes DR. ROBERT J. FLOYD, WHO RELATED THIS REMARKABLE STORY TO THE AUTHOR. From a Photo. in plain English. I was so en- raged at the fool that it quite cured the pain for a little while, but it soon returned, so I told Mrs, Sturgess that if she knew of a sensible doctor she might send for him, for I did not want to lie here and die like a dog.” I examined my patient and found him suffering from an ailment which would eventu- ally prove fatal, and that quite suddenly ; yet with care, and the use of a drug which [ had seen administered in similar cases with great success, life might be made to a certain extent painless, and could be prolonged for several years. This I told him. “Well, go ahead, doctor,” he replied. “I will do anything you tell me; yet why I should desire to prolong my life I do not know. I have been suffering for a long time, and so far no doctor has seemed to understand my case or been able to help me. If you can do so you will have earned my lasting gratitude, if nothing more.” “T shall be glad if I can alleviate your suffer- ing,” I answered. ‘We will let the matter of remuneration rest for the present.” I spent the rest of the night with my patient, and did not leave him until he was free from

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388 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “1 RXAMINED MY PATIENT AND FOUND HIM SUFFERING FKOM AN AILMENT * WHICH WOULD EVENTUALLY PROVE FATAL.” pain and resting quietly. Late the next day I saw him again, and found him comparatively well and effusively grateful for the mitigation of his suffering. He told me he was going West the next day, and asked me to give him the prescription for the medicine I had used, so that he might procure it any time the attacks should be renewed. He bade me “good-bye ” as I left and I never saw him again—or only once. It was five years later that I saw him again— or did I dream it? After a very busy day I had gone to my room so tired that I lay down upon my bed without removing my clothes, thinking to rest for a while and undress later. I remember sinking down with a sigh of content, and was soundly asleep almost on the instant. How long this lasted I do not know, but I suddenly awakened and sat up, rubbing my eyes. Something impelled me to look around, when I saw seated in my easy-chair, at no great distance from my bed, my one- time irascible patient. I wondered what could have brought him there at that time, and noticed that he was much paler than when I saw him last. His eyes were fixed upon me with an incompre- hensible gaze. My surprise at seeing him there presently abated, and I found my tongue. “Well, sir,” I said, “what can I do for you?” He seemed to struggle to speak without being able to do so. “Are you ill again?” I con- tinued. “TI will try and find some- thing to relieve you.” With that I threw the quilt aside and stepped to the floor. I lost sight of him for a moment as I did so, and when I looked again, I saw, to my intense astonish- ment, that the chair was vacant, and a hasty search demonstrated that there was no one in the room ! I then went to the door; it was locked as I had left it when I lay down on my return earlier in the night! Needless to say, I was’ startled, but for only a moment, for, having studied the various forms of psychic phenomena very thoroughly, I knew that this mystifying occurrence must belong to them. But why should I have seen this man, whom I had met but twice ? I did not sleep again that night, and the next day I went about my work in a very preoccu- pied state, until toward evening I decided to see Mrs. Sturgess; perhaps she might be able to throw some light upon the affair. “Ts that old gentleman still lodging with you, who was so ill when you sent for me five years ago?” I asked, plunging straight into the subject. “Mr. Winthrop, you mean,” replied Mrs. Sturgess. “No; he is not here; he left the next day after you saw him, and I did not see him again until a month ago, when he came and said he wanted to stay overnight. He was looking wretched ; I never saw a more heart- broken expression on a human countenance than was on his face, and he was so feeble he could only move with the aid of a cane. He

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THE ORGAN MYSTERY. 389 told me he had been travelling most of the time since he had left New York, and was then on his way home; he asked for your address and said: ‘I feel very grateful to Dr. Floyd for saving me from the terrible agony I endured before I met him. Tell him I forgot to pay him, or he forgot to ask me for pay, but that I have not forgotten my deep obligations to him.’ The next day he left to go home.” “ Where is his home?” I asked. “That I do not know,” Mrs. Sturgess replied ; “for though he was here for.several months he never told me just where he lived, except that his home was near the Hudson River.” This was all I could learn from Mrs. Sturgess, and her information failed to throw much light upon the mystery. Four days later, on return- ing in the evening to my office, I found a letter awaiting me which proved to be from a legal firm in the city, requesting me to call on them the following day. My curiosity was naturally aroused ; I was at the place punctually to time, and was shown into the private office of Mr. Evans, senior member of the firm of Evans, Brown, and Crowell. “This is Dr. Robert J. Floyd I presume ?” said Mr. Evans. “Tt is,” I answered, laconic- ally. “A client of ours, Mr. Silas K. Winthrop, lias just died,” continued Mr. Evans, ‘and we find that you are, by the terms of his will, heir to all he possessed.” “ But why does he make me his heir?” I asked, amazed. “T will read you the will,” said Mr. Evans, taking up a paper from his desk, “which will make the matter clear to © you.” He then read as follows : “I, Silas K. Winthrop, being of sound mind, do devise and bequeath to Dr. Robert J. Floyd, of New York City, all of my estate, both real and per- sonal, to have and to hold for ever. This f give in payment for medical services in Decem- ‘ber, 1873—services so tender, efficient, and far-reaching that the last years of my life have been endurable as far as physi- cal suffering goes. Said estate consists of about five hundred acres of land and the house known as Winthrop Manor House, and all other buildings thereon, and bonds and securities, silver, plate, jewels, and money on deposit to the value of two hundred thousand dollars, which I bequeath upon the condition that he take up his residence at Win- throp Manor and make it what I have failed to do—a beautiful home that shall open its doors in hospitality to many, its halls and rooms echoing with the merry voices of children, the musical tones of youths and maidens. This is my last will and testament.” “Now,” said Mr. Evans, laying down the document, “you have heard the will and the conditions attached. What have you to say- to it?” “What can I say,” I replied, “ but that I am overwhelmed at this sudden news ?” “For my part,” said Mr. Evans, “I think the conditions are not hard. From what I remem- ber of the manor-house, which I saw when a ““*] WILL READ YOU THE) WILE,) $ALD MR, EVANS.

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390 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. boy about forty years ayo, it is a spacious, beautiful home, with wide-spreading, charmingly- kept grounds sloping on the west side down to the Hudson River. I congratulate you, doctor, on your accession to this fortune.” “When did Mr. Winthrop die?” I asked. “Four days ago—or nights, I should say, for he died some time during the night of last Saturday. His old servant left him about 11 p.m., apparently in his usual health ; when he went to him in the morning, however, he found him dead, life having evidently been extinct for hours. Old Thomas said, ‘When I saw him first I thought he was sleeping ; there was a look of happiness on his face such as I had never seen there in the thirty-five years I had known him.’ ” “Last Saturday night was the time when I saw the old man in my room,” I mentally observed. ‘‘ There was something he wished me to understand and came to tell me. I wonder if I shall ever know what it was ?” “When can you be ready to go to the manor- house, doctor ?” said Mr. Evans. “Tt will take me several days to arrange my affairs and transfer my practice to someone else,” I replied, after a rapid calculation. “I think I will say two weeks from to-day.” “That will do,” said Mr. Evans. “I will write and acquaint Thomas with your coming. He and his wife are the only servants, and have been in the house for many years, I understand.” The next week was a busy one for me. I visited all my patients, and told them I had made my practice over to Dr. Wood, whom I introduced to them. In the meantime there was much business to be transacted with Mr. Evans, preliminary to the fortune being handed over tome. My last evening in New York was spent in the society of my fiancée. Our engage- ment had been a lengthy one, as my practice, being for the most part among people of small means, had not been so remunerative as I had hoped, hence the delay. For the first time we could now look forward with certainty to a period which should see the consummation of our hopes. After bidding Alice adieu I went to my rooms for the last time and the following morning took a boat up the Hudson River, reaching my destination late in the afternoon. I found Thomas Brown, the man who for so many years had been in charge of the property, waiting on the dock for me. “You are Dr. Kloyd, I take it?” said the old man, stepping up to me. “And you are Thomas,” I said. “ Mr. Evans has told me of your long and faithful service to Mr. Winthrop.” I entered the old-fashioned carriage that was in readiness and Thomas drove me through the village and out about two miles over a fine road. Then, reaching a massive gateway, we entered and went along a grass-grown carriage-drive which ended in front of a mansion of imposing appearance. Over the door of the entrance I noticed the date 1698. The main part of the building was three storeys high, with wings on either side, apparently added at different times. Alighting from the carriage I entered a hall of fine proportions, from which a beautifully- carved stairway led to the upper floors. ‘Thomas conducted me to a room on the second floor, saying as he stepped aside for me to enter, “This was Mr. Winthrop’s room, sir, and is the only one that has been used for years, except the small room opening out of it, where I have always slept when Mr. Winthrop was at home. He liked to have someone near him in case he was ill during the night, as was sometimes the case.” “ Any place will do for me, Thomas,” I said, in answer to his explanation. “You will not find me hard to suit.” “Very well, sir; I will try to make you as comfortable as possible. Will you come down to the dining-room now, for your dinner is ready to be served ?” A few moments later I followed him down- stairs to the dining-room, which was of noble pro- portions, finished in fine old oak. The great fireplace and mantel and two beautiful side- boards occupied one end of the room, all marvels of rich carving. A great bay-window, in which stained glass was tastefully used, gave an air of richness to the room. Upona small table a plain but well-cooked dinner was served, to which I did ample justice. After dinner I took a survey of the other rooms on the ground floor, and found all as beautifully finished as the dining-room. ‘The long drawing-room on the right as one entered the hall had furniture and pictures covered with cloths, and opening from this room was a smaller one which seemed to be a kind of ladies’ sitting- room, for there was a tiny table on which stood a work-basket with a piece of work, as if just laid down by busy fingers, soon to be taken up again. There was a beautiful piano, and a harp standing near it, and an arched door gave entrance to a large conservatory. On the left of the hall was a reception-room, and between there and the dining-room was a study, containing among other furniture a beautiful escritoire, evidently the work of an artist of a past century. Beyond this room, and in the wing, was a library, one of the most beautiful rooms for the purpose I,had,éver seen. It was

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THE ORGAN MYSTERY. 391 about twenty feet high and surmounted by a stained glass dome; the walls were lined with well-filled bookcases, and hanging above them were pieces of rare and beautiful tapestry and fine paintings. I felt very grateful to the man who had bequeathed all this to me ; of books I had never had enough, and in my busy life I had never had time to enjoy them even if I possessed them. How delighted Alice would be when she saw her home! By this time the evening shadows had fallen, so I took a book from the library and ensconced myself in an easy-chair, and was soon lost in the thoughts of the author. At a late hour I retired to rest. My bedroom was a large apartment, and the furniture showed the marks of wear. At one end of the room, and _ completely covering it, was a large wardrobe made of the same dark- coloured wood as the bedstead and other furniture. I was soon in bed and soundly sleeping. How long I slept I do not know, but I was awakened by some subtle furce to find the room bril- liantly lighted. Seated at the table, at no great distance from the bed, I saw a handsome young man, who seemed to be about twenty- seven years of age. His hair was worn in the fashion of a gene- ration ago, and was light brown in colour, with golden glints upon the wavy mass. The eyes were a deep violet blue, and the moustache did not hide a mouth and chin a woman might have envied. He seemed to be intently studying a piece of music which he held in his hands. I was about to speak to the stranger and ask him why he was there, when just beyond him I saw the form of Mr. Winthrop. His features were working as “1 FOLLOWED HIM DOWN THE STAIRS INTO THE STUDY.” though he were trying to speak—not to the young man, but to me. Presently, as I watched spell- bound, the stranger rose and turned toward the door. The other, moving rapidly across the room, disappeared within the great wardrobe. The young man now seemed to be cognizant of my presence, for as he moved away he made a motion to me to follow. ‘Then the door opened and he passed through into the hall. ‘*T will see this thing out,” said I to myself, and quickly hastened after him. As I stepped into the passage I saw my late visitor a little way off, and again he intimated in pantomime that I was to accompany him. I followed him down the stairs into the study where I had spent the even- ing, and finally to the library, where he paused for a moment until I had nearly reached him. Then, to my amazement, he vanished—simply vanished, apparently through a door in the corner nearest the study. Reaching this point, I found, not a door, but the bookcase from which Thad taken the book that had so_ inte- rested me a few hours before ! While I stood there bewildered there suddenly broke on my ear the tones of an organ, played by a master hand, and then the rich tones of a woman’s voice, singing. Whence came those wondrous notes? There was no organ in the room, as I knew from inspection the evening before. The musiccontinued for a few minutes ; next I heard a pistol-shot, followed by a woman’s scream. Then all was silent. I was startled, but soon regained my presence of mind and returned to my room, where I summoned old Thomas. When he appeared I asked him, “ Who is in this house beside ourselves ?”

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392 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “No one, sir,” he replied, “except Margaret, who sleeps in a room in the back part of the building.” “But you must be mistaken,” I° replied. “There was a very handsome young man in this room a little while ago.” “Good heavens!” cried Thomas, paling. “Then you have seen it!” “What do you mean?” I replied, thinking I was in a fair way to obtain a solution of the mystery. But his next words disabused my mind of that notion. “1 don’t know what it was, sir, but Mr. Winthrop was always seeing something. Betwixt you and me, I think that is why he stayed away so much.” “ Have you ever seen anything ?” I asked. “Not 1,” he answered ; “but once or twice I’ve fancied I heard music like we hear in church, but decided that I must have been dreaming.” By this time dawn had come, so I did not return to my bed, but bathed and dressed. Then I left the house, saying to Thomas as I did so, “I am going for a long walk before breakfast. I think it will clear the cobwebs out of my brain.” “Very well, sir,” he answered.“ Your breakfast will be ready for you when you come back.” I returned from my walk feeling greatly refreshed, and as I came toward the house noticed something I had not observed the previous night—that the library wing of the house extended the whole length of the build- ing, showing me conclusively that there must be another room beyond the library. After I had disposed of breakfast I went to the library to examine it by daylight, but found no sign of doors anywhere, only bookcases on every side. As I stood there I heard again the sound of the organ—just a few strains—and then all was still. I was more puzzled than ever; I was utterly unable to account for the phenomenon. In a fit of disgust I took hold of the bookcase at the point where I had seen the young man dis- appear the previous night and gave a vigorous pull. To my intense astonishment it yielded and slowly swung back, disclosing a doorway through which I speedily passed, to find myself in a room, the counterpart of the library, but without floor-covering or furniture other than a few chairs. Light was admitted, as in the library, through the coloured glass dome. At the end opposite the library was a_ beautiful organ-loft, built up from the floor and ending in a balustrade surmounted by three exquisite arches of some dark-coloured wood, upon which were some of the most beautiful carvings I had ever seen outside of a church, There was a fine organ at one end of the gallery, its case matching the gallery in richness of carving. I looked around for some way to reach the organ- loft, but none was visible, so I returned to the library and moved the bookcase back. As I did so I heard a click, and it returned to the same position as when I found it an hour before. Just then I thought of a plan by which I might reach the organ-loft, so attempted to open the unwieldy door again ; it resisted all my efforts, however, and I went to the study to write some letters. Seating myself at the escritoire, I unlocked it, opening many of the drawers in search of writ- ing paper. My own supply was in my trunks, for which Thomas had gone to the village an hour before. In one drawer I found what 1 wanted, and lifting the paper saw lying beneath it a bulky letter addressed to me in an unfamiliar hand. Opening the envelope, I found it bore a date a month old and the signature of Mr. Winthrop. It ran as follows :— “Dear Dr. Floyd,—Knowing that I have but a short time to live I will unburden my soul to you, feeling that I can trust you to do what I shall ask of you. I will go back many years, and as briefly as may be tell you the story of my life. I was born in this house, as were my father and his paternal ancestors for many generations. I was an only son, and from earliest childhood was petted and indulged by parents and sisters. My sisters both married young and went to their homes in other States. They, like my parents, were passionately fond of music. My father inherited his love of music from his father, who had had the north wing built for a library and music-room, and had purchased a fine organ and placed it in the latter room. My father would spend hours and some- times whole days at the organ, my mother often joining him at the instrument, singing some of the compositions of the masters in music. As for me, I had no musical talent—in fact, I did not enjoy music at all. I had a cousin, Arthur Winthrop, about my own age, who had the same impassioned musical temperament as my father, and who was never happier, on the occasion of his visits to Winthrop Manor, than when seated at the organ ‘discoursing sweet sounds,’ as my mother called them. “Just as I reached manhood my beautiful mother passed away from earth. I finished my career in college, then went abroad to one of the great universities, after which I spent several years in travel. While in Italy I mct the idol of my heart, my sweet Althea. She was the daughter of an American father and an Italian

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THE ORGAN MYSTERY. mather, the Contessa Salanzo. She was the very child of sunshine, music, and flowers ; how I did love her! My love was almost a madness with me; I could not endure the thought of her bestowing a smile on anyone else. I was thirty years of age when I met my darling ; she was twenty-three. My wooing was short and impassioned, and I won the love I sought. Not long after my marriage I was recalled to my My bride its sur- home by the death of my father. was charmed with her home and roundings, and with nothing more than the beautiful organ and music - room. For months we led an ideal life ; then the serpent came into our Eden in the shape of my cousin, Arthur Win- throp. He was one of a house-party that we had in- vited to spend the holidays at the manor. Althea from the first seemed charmed with the handsome fellow, because of his great musical talent. ‘They met on com- mon ground in their fond- ness for music. Hours were spent in the music-room, Arthur‘ at the organ and Althea near by, or occa- sionally by his side, joining with her magnificent voice in rendering some great composition. Our guests never tired of listening to the two talented musicians. How I loathed it all! Every day my jealousy grew more intense and I did not hesi- tate to give voice to its promptings, until my dar- ling -pined in her room for days at atime. As I learned later, when I was absent they would go to the music- room and be in heaven for a time. I know now that it was love of music, not love for each other, which drew them together. Thus things went on until one fatal night. Our guests had all departed except Arthur, who was to leave on the morrow. I was called away unexpectedly early in the evening and did not expect to be back for several hours. I left Althea resting in her room and Arthur reading in the library. “T finished my business and was back two Vol. xvii, —60, “1 RAISED MY PISTOL AND FIRED AT ARTHUR.” 393 hours sooner than I thought to be. As I came toward the house I heard the sound of the organ and the tones of my wife’s voice singing. As the sounds met my ear I became mad with jealous rage, and with only a pause to grasp a pistol I kept in my room I rushed to the one occupied by Arthur, which had been my father’s room and had a hidden entrance to the organ- gallery through one of the compartments in the great wardrobe which occupies one side of the room, Just as I opened the door Arthur had turned to speak to Althea, who stood near him. Neither was aware of my presence. I raised my pistol and qn fired at Arthur, the ball entering his head. Althea, at the sound of the shot and Arthur’s fall, screamed and fainted. I caught her in my arms and carried her to her room, and there sought to restore her to consciousness, but without success, so I sent a servant to summon a doctor, who was soon upon the spot. Before another day had passed my darling was dead, and our first-born child with her. “T cannot describe the agony I felt upon awakening to realize my mad act. I secreted Arthur’s body in an aperture at the side of the

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394 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. organ, for I dared not confess my crime. It had been known by the servants that Arthur was to leave at an early hour in the morning, so in the confusion consequent upon Althea’s sick- ness and death he was forgotten. I was his only relative, except some distant cousins, so no special inquiries were made regarding him. Then I discharged all the servants and went away, mad with sorrow and remorse. “A year later I returned, drawn by some sort of fascination to the scene of my crime. I brought workmen from New York and had the door of the entrance to the orgah-gallery closed with masonry, while in front of the door leading into it from the library I had a bookcase placed. ‘This was made to revolve on hinges, and was furnished with a secret spring, so that it could be opened if I wished. ‘There was a door in the dining-room which gave entrance to the spiral stair which led to the gallery, and over this I had one of the beautiful sideboards placed, thus completely hiding it. After all this work was done I hired ‘thomas and Margaret, who have been here ever since, faithful friends and servants. Ihave been a wanderer most of the time since this happened, nearly forty years ago. I returned again and again, but Arthur’s handsome face and his music drove me back into exile. This 1 will say: if you want to punish a murderer with the most extreme punishment, let him live to be haunted constantly by the memory of his crime. Since the fatal night when in my madness I took the life of my cousin, and indirectly that of my wife and child, I have known no peace ; have been like Cain, a lonely wanderer on the face of the earth, never knowing a moment’s happiness. “T have now to ask a favour of you. When you have found the remains of my cousin, will you have them interred in the little burying- ground north of the house, where our family has been buried for generations? Have a small stone placed above the grave, and upon it have engraved, ‘A.H.W. At Rest.’ My sisters, who were both older than I, had married and left home before my mother died; both died young. The eldest. my sister Mary, had one daughter, who went West with her father when her mother died. I have lost all trace of them during the past thirty-five years. I have made every effort to find my niece if still alive, or ber heirs, if she had any, but without success. All I know is that she was named Dorothy Selwin.” I could not continue my reading for a few moments because of my intense surprise at this last sentence in Mr. Winthrop’s letter. I had been born in a far-off Western city, and my mother’s maiden name was Dorothy Selwin! She was an orphan, and I could not recollect having heard her speak of her parents, except to say that she had named my sister Mary after her mother and that I bore my father’s Christian name. After my surprise had somewhat abated, I resumed my reading. Mr. Winthrop’s letter continued: “Should you at any time obtain information to the effect that my niece, Dorothy ‘Selwin, or any child of hers, is living, I feel that I can trust you to give her a fair share of the personal property. I have left with you the real estate ; I do not wish you to part with it in any event. Since the night when you came to my bedside five years ago, and gave me relief from pain, I have felt an attraction toward you which I cannot explain, so, having no heirs, I have given you my property, feeling sure that it will be in your power to do more good with it than I have ever done. “ (Signed) Si.as K. WintHROP.” In a postscript I found minute directions for opening both the secret entrances to the music- room. Going to the wardrobe in my room, I soon discovered the spring, touched it, and found myself standing in a small closet; touch- ing another spring, the way was open to the gallery. Eagerly I stepped within, and saw that the carpet was moth-eaten and_ thickly covered with dust. Upon the organ was one of Bach’s superb compositions, brown and discoloured by the lapse of years. Not without a certain feeling of repugnance I went to the cupboard at the side of the organ, where I found a heap of mouldering bones and moth- eaten shreds of clothes. From the skull hung a mass of hair with golden glints aoross the curls. Returning to my room, profoundly moved by what I had seen and read, I pondered how I could remove the pitiful remains without exciting the curiosity of old Thomas. At last a plan suggested itself, upon which I acted. My trunks had been brought to my room, sc I proceeded to arrange their contents in the drawers and cupboards of the great wardrobe. After this was done I went to the gallery and, gathering up the bones, placed them in one of the trunks. The shreds of clothing I put in the fireplace in my room, and with the aid of some paper and matches they were soon con- sumed. When moving the bones I picked up a handsome ring, a watch, and some coins. The watchcase, I noticed, was marked, “ Arthur H. Winthrop.” I had just finished this gruesome work when Thomas announced luncheon. At the close of the meal I called the old man and said: “Can you find me some kind of a box in which I can put a skeleton? As you know,” I con-

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THE ORGAN MYSTERY. 395 tinued, ‘‘a doctor must have such things when in practice ; but as Iam now going to devote my time to the care of this estate I shall have little time for practising medicine outside my home, so I want to bury these bones, as the future Mrs. Floyd would not stay an hour in the house if I kept them here.” “Allright, sir ; I think I have just the thing you want,” he replied. “Tt is a box my father brought with him from the old country, and is about three feet long and two feet wide, strong and well made.” “That will do nicely,” I said ; “bring it to my room. By the way, I wonder if you will help me bury it in one corner of the little burying- ground I saw as I drove along?” “Ves, sir,” Thomas an- swered, “I will gladly help you; for I could not sleep again if I knew the bones were here. The burying-ground you mention is on this property, so you have a right to use it.” “Then,” I answered, ‘we will bury the bones at once if you are ready. Poor Andy Williams will rest well out there, and if I should ever need another skeleton I can always get one trom the hospital in New York.” “T hope, sir,” said Thomas, hastily, “that you will never need another while I live in this house !” Thomas duly brought the box and with it a fine linen sheet, saying :— “JT thought, doctor, that you might wish for “) FOUND A HEAP OF MOULDFRING BONES AND MOTH-EATEN SHEEDS OF CLOTHES.” something to wrap the bones in, so I brought this sheet from the linen closet.” “Thank you, Thomas,” I said; “I am glad you were so thoughtful.” Carefully I wrapped in the sheet all that now remained of the once handsome Arthur Winthrop, who had laid so long unburied, and placed the bundle reve- rently in the little box. As I did so I heard— or did I dream ?—the organ strike into a Jubilate Deo, and the marvellous voice I had heard the night betore took up the words and sang them to the end. Thomas, who had gone to dig the grave, soon came back and said :— “The grave is ready, sir.” “Thank you, Thomas,” I responded ; “all I have to do is to lock the box.” ‘The old man led the way to the little graveyard and I carried the box, not willing to have other hands than mine perform the — sacred duty laid upon me by Mr. Winthrop — my great-uncle, as I now knew him to be. In a quiet corner of the little graveyard, near the last resting-place of Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, we deposited the box, standing for a few moments with heads bowed in silent prayer ; then Thomas filled the grave, and we left all that remained of Arthur Winthrop to his last long sleep. Three months later, when I brought my bride to her new home, the beautiful old mansion had been renovated from top to bottom, and Alice was charmed with everything she saw, but most of all with the music-room and its organ, always silent now save when her own delicate fingers drew forth its melody.

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AEISUE 2.5 TALE SOMNSON An interesting account of the Island of Lundy, recently offered for sale, which, although lying e okt athwart the Bristol Channel, forms no part of the British realm nor of any other; with a chatty description of its numerous curiosities, natural and otherwise. JYING athwart the middle of the Bristol Channel, narrow and elon- | gated, with granite cliffs that rise sheer and lofty above the waves, , Lundy Island is sometimes a menace but often a refuge to the vessel labour- ing under stress of weather. In the dense and not infrequent fog, when her exact whereabouts is hidden, then Lundy waits —frowning, grim, and terrible—to entrap the careless or hapless navigator. ‘There are not many wrecks off the coast ?” queried a visitor, surprised at the comparatively small record of casualties. ‘‘ No, sir,” was the grim reply ; “ xot many that we know of.” It is traditional among the islanders that ship upon ship has been—and still is—driven upon the rocks of Lundy, smashed as an empty egg-shell is smashed, and tossed to winds and waves, leaving not a trace behind. In the dim records of Lundy the antiquarian has a fascinating field for research. The history of the island forms a romance not a whit less exciting than any tale of adventure. In medieval times a stronghold of marauding barons, Lundy has passed through many vicissi- tudes as the centuries have rolled by ; always a refuge for pirates, smugglers, and lawless ruffians of every degree. In the wars of Queen Anne's reign the island became a French privateering station, and it is but a few years since brass Photographs by the Author. cannon were recovered from the sea, which the Frenchmen had pitched over the cliffs from the Brazen Ward —a small fort, of which the ruins still stand upon the eastern coast. Of antiquities there are not a few to be seen. Remains of fortifications are scattered up and down, and not long ago there were still visible the relics of two round towers, of pattern similar to those mysterious monuments of Ireland. Most singular of all, however, was the discovery, rather more than half a century ago, of an ancient sepulchral chamber—somewhat akin to that of sarsen stone upon the Berkshire Downs, which goes commonly by the name of Wayland Smith’s Cave —containing the skeletons of an eight-feet giant and many other bones. At the present day Lundy has its own peculiar characteristics, and not a little remarkable they are. We read in primers of geography that Lundy is an island lying in the Bristol Channel, some twenty miles off the coast of North Devon, and with that perhaps dismiss it from our minds. But is Lundy an integral part of the British Isles? Geographically, yes; constitu- tionally, the point is more than doubtful. It is the absolute property—a “fee simple fief,” transmissible by descent or mere deed of transfer —of the present “Squire” (as the islanders call him) or lord of Lundy, the Rev. H. G. Heaven, who inherited it from his father, Mr. Thomas Heaven; and there are many who

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THE ISLE OF THE PUFFIN. 397 THE CUTTER “GANNET," WHICH WRINGS THR WREKLY MAIL FROM THE [Photo Lundy and full of many a piratical yarn From a) MAINLAND. should speak with authority who hold that the island is not part of the realm at all. Certainly its privileges and prerogatives would lead one to agree. It is—happy isle !—exempt from taxes, Imperial and parochial; it is out- side the Customs, and-upon contraband landed on its shores no duty is payable. It is - included in no parish, : no county ; and since the Reformation it has been extra-diocesan. Mr. Heaven, it is true, considers that the island is subject to the laws of the coun- try, and subject in practice, if not in theory, itis. But that, of course, is a matter of convenience. What action would the Government take, one wonders, if Mr. Heaven, or some future lord of Lundy, were to boldly throw off the “English yoke” and assert his independence? The situation has its humorous side. One can fancy an amicable understanding being arrived at, and the THR ISLAND STORE—NO LICENCE BEING REQUIRED ON LUNDY, IT IS ALSO THE VILLAGE INN, title of the realm being altered, say, to “Great Britain and Ireland, with the Island of Lundy (by courtesy of the pro- prietor).” International questions of so Gilbertian a nature are not likely to arise, however, at all events while the present lord of Lundy holds sway. It is'a peaceful little community, some thirty to forty souls, all told, over which Mr. Heaven rules bene- ficently. Besides the squire’s own house- hold there are the farm and its cottages, occupied by the tenant farmer and his labourers, the village store, the fisherman’s cottage, the post and telegraph office (for Lundy is connected by cable with the mainland, though mails come only once a week), Lloyd’s signalling station, and the lighthouses—-one at either extremity of the island. Communication with the main- land is kept up by the weekly visit of the cutter Gannet, of Instow, commanded by genial Captain Dark, learned in the lore of of bygone days. In the cutter come the weekly mails, such provisions and stores as the island cannot produce itself, and maybe a chance passenger, curious to explore the isolated rock. Cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry the islanders have in plenty, and at the village store all extra- neous necessities and luxuries can be purchased. From a Photo.

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398 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THEIR CATCHES ALIVE PENDING THEE From a) ARRIVAL OF THE ER. The store is likewise the village inn, no licence to sell liquor, but only the squire’s permission, being needed in Arcadian Lundy. The waters off the coast produce fish in abundance—bass, pollock, mackerel, gurnard, and many more; while the epicure who has not yet tasted a Lundy lobster, fresh from the pot to the table, has lived in vain. Naturally the catch of fish far exceeds the small wants of the islanders, and much goes to Instow in the Gannef, certain curious floating boxes or crates anchored to the beach being the receptacles in which the captives are kept alive against the arrival of the cutter. Sheer cliffs, rocky and precipitous, jealously guard the fair island of Lundy, and only at one spot is a landing possible. This is at the south-eastern extremity, where the projecting Rat Island forms a smal! bay, with a narrow shelving beach upon which a boat may be runup. Even so, a landing can only be effected in fine weather, and there are times when the ill-starred visitor has perforce to wait for the abatement of the sea’s wrath before he can get ashore. Above the beach, at the foot of the cliff, are the beginnings of a small quay, never completed, and here, in convenient caves, are stowed the punts of the fishermen. The solitary road climbs slant-wise up the face of the cliff, overhung by huge heather-clad boulders, and zigzags onward to the sum- mit of the island. On the way it passes the residence of the squire, a solid and comfortable abode, snugly set upon the slope of a sheltered and verdant gorge looking eastward to the sunrise. The gardens at the foot are curious and in- structive, each bed of vegetables being im- mured within a high rampart of solid masonry. The effect is of empty pigsties, let us say, planted with cabbages and potatoes, but the reason for this un- usual furniture of a [Photo. kitchen garden is to be found in the violence of the gales which sweep over Lundy. On occasion, so terrific has been the strength of the wind that in exposed places the very earth itself has been torn up, and the hard rock (Photo. 1) THE ISLAND CHURCH

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THE ISLE OF beneath laid bare! But for those protecting walls round each patch not a home-grown vegetable would ever deck the squire’s table. Above the squire’s residence lies the farm- house, and high up on the crest of the island, in a commanding position, stands the church, a handsome edifice of Lundy granite. Southward, a footpath leads to the ruins of Marisco Castle, on the cliff over- hanging the pen- insula of Lame- try, whereon the southern _ light- house is perched, and the small detached _ rock, cut off by the sea at high tide, which is known as Rat Island. Northward — the road continues past the farm buildings to- wards the old lighthouse, now disused, and the abandoned granite quarries, where it loses it- self in vague tracks across the moorland. Though the cliffs of Lundy are hard granite in the main, the southern end of the island is composed of clay shale. Very remarkable is the abrupt division of the two substances, the point of juncture, where the peninsula of Lametry joins the main island, being plainly evident. As viewed from the lighthouse upon this comparatively low peninsula, the ruins of Marisco Castle possess a singularly majestic aspect. The rocky cliff rises rugged and sheer above, and perched like an eagle’s eyrie upon its summit frown the battlemented walls of the ancient fortress. Remote, inaccessible save by one precipitous route, a meet place this for the stronghold of a freebooting baron in the lawless days. Little remains to-day save the massive masonry of the keep and the scattered relics of earthworks, while the grassy platform in front MARISCO CASTLE, ONCE THE STRO: From a) THE PUFFIN. HOLD OF ROBBER BARONS, AND NOW LI.OvD'S SIGNALLING STATION. [ Photo. 399 has been adapted to the prosaic uses of a Lloyd’s signalling station ; but the grim walls, capping the stern crag, fling defiance boldly still. In Marisco Castle centres much of the romantic medieval tradition of Lundy. The researches of antiquarians into early records assert that the island was once in the possession of the noble a family of Mont- ig morency, or Montemorence, of which the English and Irish branches were designated de Monte Marisco. In the reign of Henry II., so the legend runs, Sir Jordan de Mar- isco, lord of Lundy, held high revel in his stronghold = on the island crag. Thence he plun- dered both by land and _ sea, raiding the oppo- site coasts of the mainland and pil- laging the vessels that passed up and down the Channel. So great was his Me ee marauding — that > . even in that tur- bulent age it be- came necessary to place some check upon him. His castle was declared forfeited, and Lundy was made over to the Knights Templars. But the latter cared naught for their acquisition, and the Marisco family remained in possession—outlaws, every man’s hand against them. So they continued on their violent course till they seem to have degenerated into mere common pirates. The climax came when Sir William de Marisco, in the reign of Henry IIL, actually sent a mission to attempt the murder of the King at Woodstock. The ruffianly baron was seized, tried, and executed, his body being afterwards hung, drawn, and quartered with all the horrible ignominy possible. The real history of Lundy begins with the Civil Wars. Before those stirring times the

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400 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. PLUNDER WAS STORED IN THE BAD OLD DAYS. island had once more become notorious as a den of sea-thieves and the abode of evil-doers of every degree. After the rebellion it came into the possession of the Grenvilles, and from them passed to the Gower family. In 1748 Earl Gower leased it to one Thomas Benson, whose name is most closely associated with the island. t Hollowed out of thecliff below Marisco Castle is a long and lofty cavern. This subterranean —cham- ber, dark and dank, is still called “ Ben- son’s Cave,” and un- doubtedly played a considerable part in the nefarious schemes of the extraordinary man whose name it perpetuates. Of all the rapscallions who at different times made the island their fr IN THIS GREAT VAULT MUCH CONTRABAND AND PIRATICAL Photo. ‘ lair, this Thomas Benson certainly deserves the niche of honour in Lundy’s gallery of rogues. Born of an old Bide- ford family residing at Napp, he in- herited a large fortune. In his earlier days he was the principal man of sub- stance in those parts, and the chief sup- port of Bideford and Appledore. In 1749 he was elected M.P. for Barnstaple. Before this, however, he had begun an ingenious career of fraud. In 1747 he entered into a contract with the Govern- ment for the transportation of convicts to Virginia or Maryland. This bargain ~ concluded, he obtained from Earl Gower, as already related, a lease of Lundy Island; and thither, instead of to America, he conveyed his chain- gangs of convicts! What did it matter, he contended (when taxed by the few who knew of his goings-on), whether the convicts were in Maryland or in Lundy? His contract was to take them out of the country, and out of the country they were. Meanwhile, the prisoners were not unuseful to him. Marisco Castle he converted into a jail, and there the cap- tives were locked up each night, being employed by day on various works about the island — notably the three walls of unmortared boulders across the summit, known as the Quarter Wall, Half-Way Wall, and Three-Quarter Wall respec- tively, which are still standing and divide the island into four parts. From his base at Lundy the ingenious Benson, who seems to have determined to make a settled business of piracy and fraud, brought S THE ISLAND BY BENSON'S CONVICTS, [Phote,

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THE ISLE OF THE off many coups. With piracy he coupled smuggling, and doubtless “ Benson’s Cave” has concealed in its time large stores of contraband. This career of fraud, it appears, was not un- detected. If report speak truly, Benson was fined and many of his stores seized, but the punishment did not deter him. At length, how- ever, he over-reached himself in an endeavour to make a colossal “scoop.” Chartering a vessel, the Mightingale, for a voyage to Mary- land, he loaded her with a rich cargo of pester, linen, and salt. This valuable freight he ily insured. The Vightinga/e sailed, but the 21, one Lancey, putting back under cover ot — .rk- ness, landed all her cargo at Lundy, where it was carefully stowed away. Then the doomed ship put out to sea again and was scuttled and burned, the crew being taken off by a homeward-bound ship. By this means Benson counted on raking in the insurance money, at the same time saving his cargo. But the truth leaked out through the tongue-wagging of a sailor. Lancey was hanged and Benson had to fly the country, to die eventually in Portugal. . Far below, as one peeps with craning neck into the abyss which the battlemented crag overhangs, is the little bay called the Rattles, where often of an evening the quiet onlooker may see the seals haul out upon the beach and rocks for a brief holiday from the water. But reputed to be more favoured still of Phoca vitulina is the Seals’ Cavern, a vast, wave-beaten recess in the cliffs of the south-western coasts of the island, only to be approached at low water and in calm weather when no swell is present. Splashing across a pool that bars the entrance the explorer finds himself in a great vault some sixty feet high and about twenty wide, with smooth, sandy floor. Advancing inward the passage nar- rows and darkens till there is scarcely room for a grown man to creep through ; then it suddenly opens and discloses a second spacious and lofty chamber, to which the seals do mostly love to resort. Five have been killed here at one time; and lucky is the intrepid cave-explorer if he finds the chamber empty and has not to encounter an angry seal, Vol. xvii. --51 PUFFIN. 401 whose sharp teeth are weapons not to be despised. ‘The seal at bay is a plucky foe, and the islanders used to tell tales of “ Ponto,” a monster “as large as a young horse,” which would make the most eager wary as to his attack upon the seals’ fastness. Hard by the Seals’ Cavern, rising abrupt and savage beside the beetling cliff, is the celebrated Shutter Rock—a huge, cone-shaped pinnacle of granite, famous in West-country lore. Readers of “ Westward Ho!” will remember that Kingsley describes Don Guzman’s galleon as striking upon the Shutter Rock, which thus filches from Amyas Leigh—who is afterwards confined, by the way, in Marisco Castle—the vengeance that he thirsts for. The name Shutter Rock is derived from the old tradition that, if raised and inverted, the conical mass would exactly fit into the “ Devil’s Limekiln,” a vast, yawning chasm in the cliff- side above. Terrific is the only word that will describe the “Limekiln,” as one creeps cau- tiously along its edge and peers into its depths. Tapering funnel-wise to a narrow slit far down, through which the thunder of the surf in the caves below rumbles mysteriously upward, the does not Sunlight penetrate to its nether rock, and, save for the strangled roar that issues from the darkness, an uncanny stillness prevails in its gloomy depths. Tradition has it that the “ Limekiln ” was one of the devil’s entrances to the infernal regions, and the Shutter Rock (which he inadvertently left effect is stupendous.

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402 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. We er? oe SS ee = “THE DEVIL S Lim REIL TRADITION HAS IT THAT iF THE SHUTTER KOCK WERE RAISED AND From a} INVERTED 17 WOULD EXACTLY FIT THIS STUPENDOUS CHASM. (Photo. sea- water at every tide. One is reminded of the There similar pool at Braich-y-Pwll, North Wales ; but are still folks who carefully avoid its black and in that case the water may be seen trickling gaping mouth at night-time. I do not wonder. down into the rock basin through tiny cracks in On the eastward side of the island, amidst the cliff overhead. Here, in order to reach the out one day) the trap-door that closed it. the luxuriant “Sidelands,” are the abandoned granite quarries. For some time these were worked with promise of success, and Lundy granite may be found in the material of the Thames Embankment in London. But for a variety of reasons the venture was not financially successful, and it is unlikely that the quarries will ever again be in working order. Farther to the north, just beyond the Half-Way Wall—one of the three monuments to the labour of Benson’s convicts — is the celebrated Knight Templar Rock, one of the most curious of Nature’s freaks anywhere to be seen. So perfectly does the configura- tion of the cliff, when viewed at a certain angle, resemble the profile features of a man’s face that ex- traneous aid from a chisel is immedi- ately suspected. ‘The rocks, notwith- standing, are untouched by hand. Close by is a Logan Stone, which until recent years could be set rocking at a touch, but has now become displaced. The Mousetrap, the Hen and Chickens, and the Cheeses are a few of the names which have been given to other rocks, te 1] quaintly shaped by the Band of Nature, while the imaginative eye can descry fanciful faces in almost every boulder. Bleak moorland best describes, perhaps, the island’s summit from the Quarter Wall onward to the northern point. Rab- bits are numerous and rats also, though the pedestrian is not so likely to come across the latter in his walks. In a recess of the rocks below the crag on which the northern lighthouse stands is another of Lundy’s natural curiosities —the “ Virgin’s Well,” a fresh-water spring which remains uncontaminated, though flooded by the THE REMARKABLE “KNIGHT TEMPLAR” ROCK, ON THE BAST COAST rom al OF Lumpy. (Photo.

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THE ISLE OF THE PUFFIN. - 403 fresh water, so the light-keepers say, one must thrust a long bamboo or hollow tube to the bottom of the pool and suck. Fresh water from the spring lies below the brackish sca-water at the top. Birds, of course, make up the bulk of the fauna of Lundy. At the season of migration certain birds appear in great numbers — quail, for example, and the landrail, or corncrake, . in spring and early autumn, and the woodcock later in the year. The climate in winter is milder than the mainland, and shelter and cover are ample in the “Sidelands” and boggy ground near the little springs. The common birds of hedgerow and meadow are all familiar visitors to Lundy, while the peregrine falcon, kestrel, and for- merly the osprey, are residents. Curiously enough, the house-sparrow is never seen. Bird - lovers, of course, will be aware that the puffin is sometimes known as the Lundy parrot. Indeed, the latter name is singularly appro- priate, for, though to term a puffin a parrot may not be scientifically: accurate, there is something peculiarly parrot-like in the aspect of this comical little sea-bird, with his huge and brightly-coloured beak—for all the world like a false nose at a November carnival. Moreover, Lundy is one of the principal resorts of the puffin during the breeding season, which is the only period of the year in which it forsakes the sea and deigns to sojourn on land at all. “The Isle of the Puffin,” as all will agree who have seen the myriad hordes of the birds on the northern cliffs during the summer, is nd bad name for Lundy. Not only puffins, but guillemots, razorbills, and gulls (the kittiwake especially), breed in UNCEASINGLY, T HERE A FRESH-WATER SP 3H COVFRED AT EVERY TIDE BY From a Photo. profusion on the island, while numerous other species are to be seen off the coasts. ‘The northern extremity of Lundy, in fact, takes rank with Ailsa Craig, the Bass Rock, St. Kilda, and other breeding haunts of the sea-birds, with this additional distinction, that it is the most % southerly— indeed, the only southern —colony of _ its kind. It is at this northern point that Lundy’s most won- derful scene is pre- -sented to the eye. He has missed a rare spectacle who has never seen a colony of sea-birds at the breeding season. On Lundy the steep declivity which abruptly terminates the island at its northern end offers a scene that beg- gars description. On every tuft of grass, erect, solemn, comical_in its very gravity, sits a puffin ; on every tock and_flat-top- ped boulder a knot of them congre- gates in seriouscon- clave, while dark- headed, dark- beaked _ razorbills perch familiarly amongst them, or dart hither and thither from cliff to cliff. The ground is honeycombed with holes and rabbit-burrows, and in or at the mouth of every hole and burrow (the luckless rabbit having been ejected 7 ef armis) squats a hen puffin with rubicund beak, guarding the white egg that lies within. Kittiwakes innumerable, in their soft plumage of grey, black, and white, line the perpendicular sides of every chasm and niche that overhangs the sea. On every ledge a nest has been built, and on every nest sits a mother brooding over mottled eggs or downy young ones. Ever and anion her mate swoops in from the sea, lighting upon the ledge beside her, and loudly screamed are the mutual greetings. ‘The air is filled with ceaseless, raucous cries that fall upon the car harshly at~first, but presently with

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404 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. such persistent monotony that the noise is forgotten. . Hard by on the western coast, a little short of the extreme northern end, is the colony of guillemots. It is curious to note how the kittiwakes and guillemots respect their rivals’ territory. In the clefts where the kittiwakes build no guillemot dare show his beak ; near the cliffs, upon the bare ledges of which the guillemots lay their large eggs, no kittiwake ventures to alight. The nesting habits of the two birds, also, offer a striking contrast. The kittiwake builds upon the narrow ledge a solid and substantial nest wherein to lay its mottled eggs; the guillemot declines any such trouble, and deposits its single pear-shaped egg upon the bare rock. It would seem that the egg so laid would have but a dangerously insecure tenure of its ledge. Such, indeed, would be the case were it not for the remarkable pro- vision against accidents which Nature has made in the shape of the egg. A puffin’s round egg, or even a kittiwake’s, so placed, would be liable to roll off the ledge and fall into the sea at the least puff of wind or at the slightest disturbance from the alighting or departing parent bird. But the guillemot’s egg, being much elongated, if stirred to motion, instead of rolling away like a pebble, spins round on its own axis (just as a top will do when lying on its side), and after describing a small circle returns to rest. Puffins, kittiwakes, and guille- mots form the principal resi- dents in Lundy’s huge sea-bird colony. ‘There are many, how- ever, besides. Razorbills are common, and other frequenters of the coast include the her- ring gull, the cormorant, oyster- catcher, Manx shearwater, and petrel. It is hoped, tuo, that the gannet, which once bred in thousands upon the bluff Gannet Rock, off the eastern coast, may eventually return to the island. Two pairs were observed last summer. ‘Two pairs also of the lesser black-backed gull are regular visitors, one pair in par- ticular returning yearly to the Shutter Rock to nest—and not only to the self-same rock, but to the self-same ledge. It is interesting to note that the Great Auk is believed to have formerly inhabited Lundy ; a specimen was found dead on the island in 1829, and in 1838 an egg was brought to Mr. Heaven. A fickle nymph is Lundy; one moment all smiles and welcome, the next frowning and forbidding. She may glow radiantly in the sun- light, a gleaming jewel in a cobalt sea; or in the murky gloom of night, when the tempest howls over her barren top, she may wait, cruel as Scylla, for the hapless ships that drive upon her adamantine granite. Benignly hospitable, she may give shelter to the storm - tossed mariner toiling against fearful odds; or lurk- ing within the fog-bank, when the lights are hidden and the warning blare of the fog- horns is smothered, she may lure him to awful destruction. But, as with many another fickle jade, her changeful inconstancy is not the least of Lundy’s manifold charms. THE SEA-BIRDS’ NURSERY AT THE NORTHERN END OF THE ISLAND—HERE MAY BE SEEN COUNTLESS PUFFINS, KITTIWAKES, GUILLEMOTS, AND OTHEK BIRDS, from a Photo.

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ABUBEKR OF KANO: The Story of a King’s Justice By THE Rev. A. E. RicHarpson, D.D., C.M.S. There is quite an “Arabian Nights” flavour about this curious story, which was gleaned by Dr. Richardson while engaged in missionary work at Kano. The narrative tells of an innocent man wrongfully punished, of his long hunt for his betrayer, and of a King’s remorse. a HE great city of Kano, with its — stupendous walls, crowded markets, # and wonderful civilization, no longer needs description. Its situation in the heart of the Soudan, its history, dating back at least to the time of Alfred the Great, its manufactures and industries, and its capture by the British are to-day more or less familiar to all.* But those who know anything of the awful cruelties and atrocities committed in that secluded land are few and far between. There is now no longer any reason for keep- ing back the following remarkable story of the retribution meted out by a former King of Kano. There is living to-day in that great city—which was exporting well-made cloth when the inhabitants of Great Britain were covering themselves with the skins of wild animals —a man whom fortune once smiled upon, but who has since fallen upon evil days. There was a time when Abubekr dan Kano lived in a style befitting one who possessed a comfortable competence. One ill fated day, however, he bias took himself to the market-place in the cool of the morning, to make any bargain which might add to his wealth or his comfort. No one but a visitor to this im- mense place of concourse can form any conception of its size and im- portance. Perhaps the largest market- place in the whole wide world, it is thronged every day of the year with a cosmopolitan crowd. It draws its supplies from, and sends its exports to, all parts of the Dark Continent. Nor does “ Aljimaa” (Friday, the Moslem’s Sabbath) cause any slack- ing off in this gigantic mart, for “re- ligion” sits lightly on the shoulders of the Hausa. He knows little and cares less about his Prophet Moham- med. * An illustrated description of this wonderful city 2 — appeared in our issue for Dec., 1904.—Ep. Abubekr leisurely inspected the various stores which came across his path, but nothing that he considered a bargain met his eye, and he was on the point of retracing his steps when, under a tree, he saw a man sitting with two robes for sale. He had no stall, nor did he seem to press his wares on the passers-by. “Ka saye” (“Give a price”), demanded Abubekr. “Aa, 4a saye” (No, you offer a price”), was the quick reply. For ten minutes or so they repeated this advice to each other. At last the salesman asked three hundred thousand shells (a thousand cowries are worth sixpence) for the white robe. Waitlerbert™ Hellowkirs z “OKA SAVE! (GIVE. A PRICK) DEMANDED |ABUBmER.”

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406 THE WIDE “You will kill me with your exorbitant demands!” cried Abubekr. “I'll give you ten thousand shells.” The seller fanned himself vigorously lest he should faint with surprise at the niggardliness of the offer. So the buyer and seller went on, alternately on the point of expiring with amaze- ment at the other’s audacity, until at last an agreement was come to. The two robes became Abubekr’s, and his staves deposited one hundred and ten thousand cowrie shells (in sacks of ten thousand each) at the foot of the tree. Lack of pride is not a Hausa failing, and his slaves were not at all surprised some time later at seeing the great Abubekr strutting like a peacock up and down his courtyard, dressed in the flowing blue robe which had reposed be- neath the tree in Kano’s market but an hour be fore. There is not sufficient scope for pride in a back-yard, however, and so, with stately step, Abubekr was soon pacing his way to the busy mart again. His way lay down a short lane, hemmed in on either side by a six-foot wall. As he turned into this narrow path- way the merchant perceived three men walking in the opposite direction. At sight of the well- dressed Abubekr one of the strangers nudged his companions. Quick glances were exchanged, some muttered words were uttered, and the three men approached in silence. “Ah! No wonder they mistake me for some great man of rank,” thought Abubekr, holding his chin still higher in the air and strutting on proudly. By this time the new-comers had reached him, and he took the middle of the path. To his amazement they did not step aside and allow him the right of way, as befitting so well-dressed a being. Far from it. With a sudden move- W tactect Hellowdoy | IN UNISON.” WORLD A THIEF [5 HERE! THIEF! THEY CRIFD MAGAZINE. ment the man in the middle of the trio shot out his right hand and gripped Abubekr by the throat. His companions grasped him by the arms, and, swinging him quickly round, pinned him against the wall. “A thief is here! Thief!” they cried in unison. A gurgle and a short struggle were all the response Abubekr was capable of. “Let go his neck! Let him speak,” cried one. “Fam no robber—how dare you accuse me of theft?” stammered the merchant. “Lies lie lightly on a the lip of a thief,” came TD the mocking reply ; a “just as that stolen Ja robe sits lightly on a7 your back.” “Stolen robe? This?” queried Abu- bekr, jerking his chin down to his breast. dias “Stolen? I bought it ) this morning in the » market-place !” “Liars and_ thieves are closer than brothers,” jeered the man who, having re- leased his hold on the throat, was narrowly guarding the unfortu- nate prisoner. “ But see—we are as honest as you are corrupt. We are willing to test your veracity, so that you may have a chance to clear your character. There are yet three days before the new moon. Bring us to the man who sold you this robe within three days from now and we will believe your word.” “That is easily done! Follow me,” replied Abubekr, now released from captivity. The men obeyed, and in a very short space of time stood under the ill-omened tree in the market-place. But alas for Abubekr! Zhe man was gone! “He sat here,” cried the unfortunate mer- chant. “”I'was here he sat and sold.” A burst of laughter greeted his remark. “ Mark a thief a liar,” said the eldest of the three inquisitors. ‘‘ However, we are true to our word. Bring us the thief before Allah brings the new moon and you are free. Fail

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ABUBEKR to appear, with him or without him, and nothing shall save you from our revenge.” While this threat was ringing in Abubekr’s ears his three tormentors departed. “The man who sold me the robes—where is he?” the distracted merchant asked of a neigh- bouring stall-holder. “He’s gone,” was the careless reply. “Whither has he gone ?” “T don’t know.” “When did he go?” “Immediately after you had paid him his money,” was the significant answer. “Then Iam undone!” moaned the hapless Abubekr. But there were still three days before the new moon; the elusive robe-seller might yet be found. So without delay Abubekr set off on a tour round Kano’s markets and streets. Late at night he returned home, thankful to have escaped arrest as a thief—for any man seen out after sunset runs that risk, whether, guilty or innocent. The writer has more than once heard the proclamation from the King’s police : ‘Honest men walk by day—thieves by night ; _ beware!” So the three days passed, and still Abubekr had failed to trace the robe-seller. At last the new moon shone in the sky. Never had Abubekr so hated that silver arc. Reluctantly he kept his appointment at the tryst- ing-place. Four men stood there. “The thief —have you found him ?” they asked, eagerly. “No,” came the short answer. “Seize him,” cried the leader, nodding to an ill- visaged, dark-browed man beside him. Forthwith the dogari (policeman) stepped forward and bound Abubekr’s hands. “To the King!” cried the three men, and the hapless prisoner was hurried off. Nothing could now secure him his liberty unless he were willing to bribe the police heavily, as well as the court officials, and even the judge himself. Before he could hit upon any course of action, however, he was hurried into the presence of the dreaded King Belo. The wise alkali (judge) was in OF KANO. 407 the King’s hall, and was at once called upon to try this case. ° What other verdict could be expected save one of “guilty”? Everything was against the unfortunate prisoner. He had been seen wear- ing a stolen garment and had concocted some incredible story of a purchase, as if a thief would openly sell a stolen robe! The alkali quickly came to a decision. “ Away with him,” he cried; “off with his hand! And then ”, The chief executioner was pressing forward to claim his prey, when King Belo himself inter- vened. “Stay!” he exclaimed. “Hold your hand! This is the strangest story of theft which has ever reached my ears. This fellow is the victim of fate. I do not believe him guilty, nor will I acquiesce in the punishment of an innocent man.” Abubekr could scarce believe his ears. Could this be the vindictive and bloodthirsty Belo ? The King, however, was as good as his word. Turning to Abubekr he cried, “See—I give you one moon in which to track down the true thief, for I believe you—condemned though you already are—to be innocent. Go, seek your quarry.” Dazed and bewildered at the unexpected turn of events, Abubekr hastened homewards. “One moon” (ze. one month) was his. ‘Till the next new moon he was a free man. Obviously no time must be lost. The search must be undertaken at once. Day after day in feverish haste the unfortunate man sought the seller of those fatal robes. Night after night he lay upon his bed in disappointment. The full moon was already past, and still no success dawned upon his efforts. It seemed as though his enemy had vanished from off the face of the earth ; no trace of him whatever could ke discovered. At last only one day more remained, and the sun itself was not up be- fore Abubekr. With frenzied eagerness and frantic haste he scoured the city—that city now so ND BEWILDERED AT THE UNEXPECTED TURN OF EVENTS, ABUREKR HASTENED HOME- WARDS.”

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408 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sadly familiar to his weary feet. Another fruitless search, and his doom was sealed. Once again the golden .ball tipping the horizon heralded another day, and at nine o’clock Abubekr stood before the King. “You have failed in your search,” he said, sternly. ‘“ ‘Take him away!” The words seemed to drop like leaden bullets upon the poor merchant's heart. How often had he been a jeering witness to many a punishment for theft! How well he knew: the malice of the mob and the brutality of the executioner! What recollections surged through his brain as they hurried him through the market-place to the fatal Jakara, the pond in which many a hand—aye, and head—had been flung! A jostling crowd surged round him. With a sudden movement the executioner seized his right hand with the grip of a vice; then, taking a sharp knife, he severed the hand supposed to be guilty of theft. ‘The crowd yelled with approbation and delight, waiting for the customary signal. It was usual for the executioner to cry, “ Yara ku rakashi” (“‘ Boys, ‘conduct’ him”), whereupon the victim would blood, made his way home in safety. Flinging himself down before his horrified wife he moaned in pain. Then, raising his voice, he cried, “I have but one thing to live for. Death I would welcome, now that disgrace has darkened my path. But I am resolved to live, if only to wreak my vengeance upon that man who has ruined my happiness. I will never give up my search till revenge is mine.” A week or two passed by and the mutilated arm had healed. Under a tree in the market- place sat Abubekr. Under that tree he had bought his robes, and there, he vowed, his enemy should one day pay the penalty of his mis- deeds. ‘ For,” argued Abubekr, “he is certain to come back again one day.” So day after day, week after week, the man nursed his resent- ment and sat gazing eagerly at the faces of the passers-by. ~ The day of reckoning came at last. His straining eyes saw the robe-seller moving through the crowd! With a savage growl Abubekr sprang to his feet and dashed his way through the marketers, scattering them to right and left. Straight forward he rushed, heedless of men and make one wild tush for liberty, the mob setting upon him with sticks, stones, and any other handy weapon, until the miserable male- factor fell bleed- ing to theground. His lifeless body was then borne back to the Ja- kara, placed upon “a pile of wood, and burnt to ashes. Such was the dreadful fate in store for Abu- bekr. Buta whispered offer of a bribe caught the executioner’s ear—it was this Witerber? Holloway, he waited for. The sum named was sufficient and bribery won the day, as always amongst the Hausas. The crowd awaited the signal. It came—“ Yara ku tefi” (Boys, disperse”). Muttering their displea- sure at being robbed of their fun, the mob broke up and Abubekr, weak through loss of “HE CLUTCHED VIOLENTLY AT THE THROAT OF HIS FOE.” goods, until he reached his victim. Swinging up his left hand with irresistible force, he clutched violently at the throat of his foe and hurled him backwards to the ground. “A thief you are—thief!” he yelled, tighten- ing his deadly grip. ‘‘ Now you shall suffer for

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ABUBEKR your sins.” Suddenly, however, the crowd was roughly parted, and two burly policemen dashed into the ring. “Get off! get off!” they de- manded. “Will you murder a citizen in the very market-place at noon ?” “ Aye, that I will,” growled Abubekr. me but a minute!” The struggling men were separated, one police- man holding each. Then Abubekr told his tale. “Come—both of you—come to the King,” said the senior policeman; “he shall give judginent.” Once again Abubekr found himself in the presence of Belo. His opponent, a short, thick-set man, trembled at the gaze of the great Emir of Kano. The alkali arrived at the summons of the King, and each man had his say. ‘The accused man stoutly denied his guilt, whilst Abubekr as strongly affirmed that this was the rascal who had sold him the stolen robes, thereby causing him to lose his right hand. “This is fool’s play,” cried the alkali, angrily. “I cannot judge betwixt two such men, neither of whom can bring witnesses. Many moons have passed since this theft took place. Why rake up the past? One man has been punished for the crime already. Dis- miss the case, O King, and let them begone !” “No, indeed,” replied the King. “Shall the guilty escape justice because the rod has fallen upon the innocent ?” “Then let your Majesty decide between these claimants for honesty,” re- torted the judge. The King immediately accepted the challenge. “Bring before me the three men who claimed the stolen robes,” he cried. After an interval they came, doubtful as to the King’s intentions. “Tell me,” said ‘the “Give OF KANO. 409 tobes were missing, and this thief here lost his right hand in consequence. Besides the robes we lost a steel chain, a charm, and a box of ointment.” “Enough !” answered the King. Then, turn- ing to some slaves standing near, he cried: “Hold this newly-arrested person. Search his garments and see what you can find.” No sooner were the words out of the King’s mouth than Abubekr’s enemy was securely seized from behind and his garments over- hauled. More quickly than it takes to tella slave had dragged forth a steel chain with a charm attached. He held them up to view. “ Are those yours ?” queried the King of the three new-comers. “Indeed they are!” they cried in chorus, starting forward. “ He is the thief,” said the King, decisively. “It is he who was accused by this innocent King, turning to*the new- comers. ‘“ Do you remem- ber what things were stolen from you eight moons ago?” “Remember?” reite- rated the spokesman. “Are we likely to forget? Two Vol. avii.—52. NE IS THE THIEF,’ SAID THE KING, DECISIVELY.

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410 THE man ; and it is he who wears stolen goods. Is any further proof required ?” The judge leaned forward from his place. “O King, may God grant you long life! ‘fhe truth of your judgment is only excelled by the wisdom of the judge. It falls to my hands to allot the punishment. For the theft, I order his right hand to be cut off. For his causing another and an innocent man to suffer, let his right foot be sawn off. Away with him !” Remonstrance was in vain. ‘The fellow was hurried away to the Jakara, and only the promise of a bribe saved his life. Before the eyes of the crowd the poor wretch’s hand and foot were amputated with brutal clumsiness. Next salt and cayenne pepper were rubbed into the bleeding wounds to make his repentance more real, and after the performance of this horrible custom the smarting stumps were dipped into boiling fat to prevent his bleeding to death. Then he was a free man—to crawl away as best he could. No sympathy came Ais way. Was he not guilty? Did he not deserve more than he got? So far there is nothing extraordinary in this recital of what are but commonplaces of the administration of justice among the Hausas. It was the King’s subsequent behaviour that excited astonishment. After the trial he sent for Abubekr. at this summons, obeyed. “You have been unjustly punished. How can I recompense you?” asked Belo of the astounded Abubekr. “You cannot repay me,” was the sullen reply. “But something is due to you. you lose over the robes ?” “One hundred and ten thousand cowrie shells,” answered Abubekr, with alacrity. “Bring him that sum,” cried the King to the Maaji (Chancellor of the Exchequer). “Now forgive me for causing your punishment,” demanded the King. “The price of a cut-off hand is five hundred thousand shells,” answered the avaricious citizen. Alarmed the merchant reluctantly What did WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “ They are yours also,” responded the King, graciously. ‘“ Mow have I your forgiveness ?” “ Never !” promptly replied Abubekr. Then, stretching out his maimed arm, he broke into a torrent of words. ‘See! What have you done, O King? You have cut off my right hand, the hand with which I tilled my farm and fed my family. You have cut off my right hand—I, who never stole! Wherever I go people say, ‘See, his right hand is off; he is a thief!’ I, who never stole, am branded for life a thief. Forgive you? ever 1” At this torrent of accusation the King broke down—an unheard-of thing for a Hausa warrior. But Belo had lived his day, and his misdeeds sometimes weighed heavily upon his mind. Here was a chance of redeeming his past ! “Bring your wife and family to my palace,” he said, remorsefully. “A house shall be found you, food and clothing and money shall be given you. All your days shall you be cared for. Only forgive me.” “O King,” answered Abubekr, stubbornly, “Tl take all you offer, but I'll never, never forgive.” From henceforth the former merchant was provided with all he needed. The King often took him gifts with his own hand, but not a word of thanks escaped the lips of his sullen pensioner. At length Belo went to join his forefathers, and his successor made short work of the stubborn-hearted Abubekr. “Innocent men have suffered unfairly before you were born,” he cried, angrily. “ Begone with you, and do not pose as a martyr here.” So to-day the ungrateful Abubekr no longer has a King’s patronage. The Emir, in fact, is a prisoner in the hands of the British, and no more are men mutilated for theft; no ionger are they tortured to please a depraved populace. Nor, under the British flag, are men bought and sold in the market-place like mere cattle. In fairness to the Hausas, I ought to add that never once have I heard Abubekr’s unforgiving spirit commended by his fellow-countrymen. On the other hand, they rather despise Belo for his soft-heartedness.

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Odds and Ends. A House In a Tree—The Longest Loaf Ever Made—A Nerve-Trying Commission, etc. HE Mosquito Reservation—a narrow belt of land struck off the east coast rye of Nicaragua, in Central America— derives its name from the Mosco or Mosquito Indians inhabiting it, and not from their winged namesakes, as might be supposed, albeit for abundance of the latter the coast in question would indeed be hard to beat. In fact, in one locality thereabouts —to wit, on a tributary of the Bluefields or Escondido River, knownas the Rama, mosquitoes and other malarial influences are so plentiful that, in order to avoid them, the owner of at least one plantation has deemed it pru- | TA secured by means of four props and the same number of guide-ropes, which, like so many long legs, give the building something of the appearance of a huge spider. ‘he owner gains access to his strange dwelling by means of a primitive yet perfectly safe and effective elevator. ‘The dwelling is excellently furnished, and there is absolutely nothing inside, beyond the cleverly-disguised tree-trunk in the centre of each apartment, to remind the visitor of the fact that he is for once in his life really “up a tree.” Having “locked” the lift so that it cannot be drawn down and shut himself in for the night, dent to abandon the ordinary kind of dwelling and build himself a nest high up in a tree. The planta- tion in question is known as “The Repose,” and the “nest” consists of a bungalow erec- ted upon an ibo tree, seventy feet above the ground. The tree is of a very hard and lasting species, and the bunga- low is in every sense as com- fortable and sub- stantial as any structure upon terra firma. It is three-storeyed, and erected round the trunk of the tree, which passes through the centre of each storey in much the same fashion as a ship’s mast pene- trates the saloon ; and, in addition to the tree-trunk, the edifice is further = | { I f A BUNGALOW IN A TREE—IN THIS AERIAL DWELLING THE OWNER IS SAFE FROM MALARIA, MOSQUITOES, WILD BEASTS, SNAKES, AND THE MANY OTHER PESTS WHICH INFEST THE DISTRICT. From a@ Photo. by Hoffman, Dresden. ] the inventive builder of this unique dwelling presumably enjoys that repose and security which are the portion of few of his neighbours, and which — sug- gested the name of the plantation, for, besides being above the malarial zone, he is like- wise beyond the reach of mosqui- toes, wild beasts, scorpions, centi- pedes, and many other pests he would have to face were his dwelling upon the ground. Not least amongst the advantages of such a “nest” must be counted the absolute free- dom from snakes, for serpents, poisonous and otherwise, abound in those regions, and are not infre- quently given to trespassing.

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412 THE WIDE 6-28 WORLD MAGAZINE. “TAB LUNGEST LOAF OF BREAD EVEK MALE "—(T WAS FOURTEEN FRET IN LENGTH, ANU TOOK A HUNORED From a) What is probably the largest—or, at any rate, the longest—loaf of bread ever made was that exhibited at the annual meeting of the Indiana Bakers’ Association in April last. This monster production, which is seen in the accompanying photograph, was quickly named the “ Alligator Loaf” by people who saw it, and a glance at the picture will show that there is certainly a resemblance. This Gargan- tuan loaf of bread was four- teen feet long, and it took a hundred and twenty pounds of dough to make it. Natur- ally, it won first prize. To carry it from the bakery where it was made to the hall where it was exhibited without — break- ing it, it was necessary to put one end of the loaf in a bread wagon, while the other end was supported by a buggy from which the dash- board and seats had been removed. A primitive method of cooking food is still practised in Corsican villages. A square structure is built of large stones at any con- venient spot in the rough, stony tracks which From a) AND TWENTY POUNDS OF DOUGH TO MAKE. A VILLAGE OVEN IN CORSICA—ALL THE INHABITANTS HAVE THE RIGHT TO USE IT, MERELY PROVIDING THEIR OWN FIREWOOD. G (Photo. (Photo. serve for streets in these picturesque hamlets. The lower part is solid, but the upper part is the oven, the floor of which forms the base of the opening shown in the photograph. A small hole at either side and at the back allows the smoke to escape. A projecting stone roof is usually built over the ovens to provide shelter from both sun and rain. When a housekeeper wishes to cook anything she buys or collects a bundle of fire- wood and lights a fire inside the oven. As soon as it has burnt down she . brushes the em- bers aside and places the bread or meat on the hot stones, piling the ashes in the doorway. While waiting for the joint to cook she discusses local news and scandal with her friends, who collect round the oven for that purpose. In most villages these quaint ovens are public affairs, but in some of the larger towns they belong to private individuals ; in this case the owner supplies the wood, and charges for the use of the oven one-tenth the value of the food cooked.

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ODDS AND ENDS. 43 On the outskirts of Kong-Kong ducks are bred by the Chinese in enormous quantities. Each flock is in charge of a “shepherd,” much in the same way as men in this country look after sheep. The duck-drovers pilot their charges to the water in the morning and back to their quarters at dusk. In moving them from place to place the “shep- herd” uses, not the conventional crook, but Jan enormously long bamboo wand, some twenty to twenty-five feet in length, with which he keeps the stragglers travelling in the desired direction. Two or three old ducks are always kept as long as possible to act as leaders to the flocks. The profession of the tattoo artist is a decidedly novel one, and some of the com- missions that fall to his lot are decidedly out of the ordinary. For instance, Mr. Alfred South, a well-known tattooist, was asked some little time ago to tattoo a tiger on the arm of a wild animal tamer of Vienna, named Henry Hen- ticksen, drawing “Stripes” from life in the shape of Mr. Henricksen’s most ferocious tiger. When Froma\ A CHINE: DUCK-SHEPHERD ” he discovered that the “sitting” was to take place suside the great cage, with only the trainer between himself and a full-grown tiger, Mr. South began to feel just a little nervous ; but he arranged his apparatus and started work, as shown in the accompanying photograph, without delay. Knowledge of the terrible re- cord of the great brute he was sketching did not tend to make him feel any more happy, for in America the tiger had killed a black attend- ant, while two other tigers fell victims to his deadly claws in Paris a couple of years ago. As recently as February 22nd last he broke out of his cage in the train and assailed his tamer and the attendants. Presently “ Stripes,” as might have been expected from such a warrior, got tired of the monotony, and, breaking loose, attacked the artist viciously. Instruments and colours were sent flying in all directions, but Mr. South just managed to get through the iron door in the nick of time. After a while, the animal having quietened down, the tattooist WITH HIS CUKIOUS FLOCK. (Photo. A NERVE-TRYING COMMISSION—A TATTOO ARTIST SKETCHING A TIGER From a} HALF-WAY THROUGH THE SETTING THE BRUTE BROKE LOOSE AND ATTACKED THE TATTOOIST! FROM LIFE ON THR ARM OF HIS TRAINER, (Photo.

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THE 4 CHINESE, PUNCH-AND-JUDY SHOW—THESE SHOWS GO PROM VILLAGE TO VILLAGE MUCH AS THEY DO IN THIS COUNTRY, BUT THE ANTICS OF THE PUPPETS ARE From a) DIFFERENT. (Photo. pluckily re-entered the cage and finished his work successfully, the task occupying just an hour and a half. Evidently Chinese children are quite as much interested in a Punch-and-Judy show as European children ; at least, this appears to be the case judging from the above photograph, although the children, for the minute, seem more engrossed in what is perhaps to them a still stranger sight —the “foreign devil” and his camera. ‘These shows go about from village to village much in the same manner as they do in this country, although perhaps the antics performed by the puppets are not : RT LRACH, OF BOLTON, LANCS, W 1 quite the same. Our Ha MRACM. OF BOLTON, LANCS, WITH TH Photo. by) enough WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. snap-shot was taken in the northern part of China. The stupendous cataract and foam- ing rapids of Niagara seem to possess a too often fatal fascination for a certain type of humanity. Below is a photograph of Mr. Robert Leach, a native of Bolton, Lancs, and the steel barrel in which he went through the famous Whirlpool Rapids at Niagara Falls in June, 1898. Mr. Leach success- fully negotiated these dangerous rapids on two occasions—the first time in a wooden barrel and the second in the rather curious boiler-like article shown in our photo. This massive eon- trivance weighed, when ballasted, over a ton, and a hammock was fixed in- side, in which the intrepid adventurer lay during his voyage. On the second occasion Mr. Leach was badly bruised, although no bones were broken. In April, 1899, Mr. Leach went over another great cascade — the Cohoes Falls, New York State—in his steel barrel. The shock which followed the drop was so severe that it broke the swinging harness in which lay the occupant. Mr. Leach only just missed death, and the shaking- up he received led him to give up the barrel business and return to his own profession—surely hazardous itself for the ordinary man — of ballooning and high diving. STEEL BARKEL IN WHICH HE WENT THROUGH OL. RAPIDS OF (Frank Wendt. NIAGARA.

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ODDS From a Photo. 67) A JAVANESE One of the curiosities which the traveller in the Island of Java invariably buys to add to his collection and bring home with him is a “kris,” or Javanese dagger. The “kris” is supposed to date from the thirteenth century, and it plays an all-important part in the toilet of a native, for no self-respecting Javanese, from a Prince of the “Royal blood downwards, would consider himself “fully dressed” without carrying at least one “kris” stuck in his belt or girdle at the back—always worn in a manner which will enable him to whip it out instantly in case of need. But for- tunately, gene- P rally speaking, a “kris” serves its wearer more as an ornament emblematic of a custom dating from the time of his ancestors than as a deadly weapon. There are several varie- ties of “krisses ” made in the island, many of them veritable works of art with their jewelled sheaths and gold or silver hilts, THE “ HOODOOS,” THREE REMARKA but these are, ‘Fon a) with nee AND gOCKS OF 415 OR DAGGER SHOP, (0. Kurkdjian, Java, of course, only worn by the members of princely families. In our photograph we see a “kris” shop and a couple of dagger-makers busy at their trade. The majority of the weapons shown in the picture have sheaths with boat - shaped tops, which may be considered as the most popular. The steel blades are sometimes made with a sharp, wavy edge, or else quite long and thin with a very fine point, which can be dipped in poison and then replaced in its sheath if required. Many of the blades are also hammered out with pretty designs, the patterns for which the artistic ‘*kris ”- maker traces out him- self. Our next pic- ture shows a curious rock for- mation at Can- more, Alberta, Canada. ‘The rocks are three in number and are known locally as the “ Hoodoos,” a “hoodoo” in Canada being equivalent to the Australian “sun- downer,” or tramp, though how this term NATURAL CONCRETE, ICk AND WATER,

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416 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. a : came to be applied in this instance does not appear. ‘The crags are composed of a kind of natural concrete, and attained their present shape most probably by the action of ice and water in the glacial epoch. ‘The rocks are still changing in shape, but more slowly and by means of a different agency—the ubiquitous tourist, who constantly takes with him souvenirs in the shape of small pebbles or pieces of cement. As the “‘ Hoodoos” average about thirty feet in height and ten in width, at the present rate of attri- tion they may be calculated to last some hundreds of years yet, even if the Government neglects to put up notices warning visitors against the souvenir habit, as they have been obliged to do in many cases in the neighbourhood. Here is a photozraph of the nest of a curious South African bird known as the “hammerhead.” The nest, as will be seen from the photograph, is a huge affair, and this is the more remarkable seeing that the bird itself is only about the size of an English crow. This particular nest was built on a rock about a hundred and fifty feet from Hk KEMAKKAM E NEST OF THR SOUTH AFRICAN “HanMeKHEAD "—aLinovon the ground, and the entrance was quite NO MIGGER THAN AN ENGLISH CROW, THE BIRD BUILDS HUGR NESTS LIKE THAT From al SHOWS IN THE PICTURE, (Photo. unapproachable. ae er ma: ie m,? ¥ SI va lerve Tr rying Suc On THe Hicn Seas Tae Te RACEDY: OFA Snow: SLIDE | ABUBEKR OF Kano ARace witn » A LeAVA-FLow rae sa? ; Wesson ALLIGATOR FARMING Kris Shop - * The StRANce StorY A House ip a Tree ora Litre Sup 9 > InUNTRODDEN PaTHns A Doctor In THE Busn THE MAP-CONTENTS OF ‘THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCR THE LOCALITY OF EACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER. Digitized b 1 ,00gle

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“THE ANIMAL LEAPED CLEAR OF MY PROSTRATE FORM.” SEE PAGE 427.

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVII. SEPTEMBER, 1906, No. 1 MY PRINCESS. By Henry STantey Warp, OF Cayuca, N.Y. One of the most remarkable stories we have ever published. The author sets down, for the first time, the full narrative of the strange and romantic drana in which he and the mysterious “ Princess ” such prominent parts. played Surely novelist never conceived a more unusual, pathetic, or sensational love- story than this record of happerings in a sleepy country village, authenticated fully as it is by the sworn statement, letters, newspaper extracts, and photographs which accompany the narrative. OR a young fellow I have travelled quite extensively in many lands, and the experiences which have fallen to my lot have been of a varied nature, = and not by any means few in number ; yet it has remained for me to become involved in the most peculiar situation in which I have ever figured here in the quiet little town of Cayuga, New York State, where I was born and where I have lived, off and on, for some twenty years. Had the setting of the strange drama in which I have played so prominent a part been a neighbourhood other than this, then my story had remained untold ; for this recital, absolutely true to fact, is, in reality, a defence — my final answer to those who have sought to mar my good name by charges based on circumstantial evidence.* Part of the story I am going to relate is now local history ; part of it has been darkly guessed at and enlarged upon by the village gossips; and part of it I shall now, for the first time, make public. It happened two years ago last August, or rather it began at that time, for that was when I met the Princess. Auturn, * We append a copy of Mr. Ward's sworn statement concerning the authenticity of this story.—Ep. SraTe or New York. County of Cayuga. Town of Aurelius. Henry Stanley Ward, of the Town of Aurelius, County of Cayuga, and State of New York, being duly sworn, deposes and says that the circumstances related in the narrative written by him and forwarded by mail to the Magazine known as Tue Wine Wortp. of London, England, on or about middle of Fe: ruary, 1906, are true. (Signed) Henry STANLEY Warn, Subscribed and sworn before me, April 3, 1906. (Signed) Romeyn R. Candee, Justice of the Peace. Cayuga, N.V., April 2 Re xvii —23. THE AUTHOR, MR. HENRY STANLEY WARD. OF CAYUG From a Photo. by We. We met under peculiar circumstances—the Princess and I. With Jack Stoneberg, a friend of mine, I had been sailing that afternoon on the blue waters of Cayuga. ‘The wind, however, growing stronger and stronger, had increased to a gale and forced us to return. Now, I live a mile north-east of Cayuga, and after bidding my friend good-bye l hurried along the road which leads to my parents’ house, thinking of nothing so much as my chances of escaping a severe drenching. “The odds are against me,” I was thinking aloud, which obser- vation proved to be correct and well-timed; for just at that moment the wind whirled my straw hat from my head. It cleared the fence easily, and I vaulted lightly over in pursuit. Just as I was bending over to pick it up I stumbled and sprawled ignominiously into a ditch half full of mud and water. When I regained my feet I must have presented a somewhat ludicrous appearance, as I stood there covered with mud and humiliation —the latter because of the presence of a young lady who seemed much amused; for she was biting her lip to suppress the merriment which sparkled in her eyes. She was standing under a large elm just at the edge of what are known as Stevenson’s Woods, in close proximity to the scene: of my involuntary plunge. I saw with grim satisfaction that she held my hat. I also saw (with apprehension) that she held a Kodak, which was levelled at me threateningly. I heard a click. ° “There!” she exclaimed, smiling. ‘I hope it’s a success.”

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420 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “1 SAW THAT SHR HELD A KODAK, WHICH WAS LEVELLED AT ME. THREATENINGLY.” “Tt’s not,” I answered, emphatically, and with some degree of satisfaction. “T suppose you know,” she remarked, dryly. “ May I ask why?” “Certainly ; because you are an amateur. Wouldn’t a time exposure have been better, in view of the fact that it’s going to rain? It’s growing dark.” “Tt’s raining now,” commented my fair lady, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Ihe first few large drops were pattering on the leaves of the forest. There was a vivid flash, followed by an ominous tumble. Away across the lake a fog-like white- ness shrouded the landscape; the swamp, farther north, was a dark form indistinctly seen. “The storm is near,” said I, reaching for my coat, which lay where it had fallen at the time of my mishap. “Uncomfortably so,” she assented. “ Are you afraid ?” I queried. “A little,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders again. Her accent was pleasing, though I thought it smacked of affectation. Her manner of shrugging her shoulders, too, I deemed a bit of posing. I had misjudged her in both instances, as I found afterward. “ Here is your hat,” she continued, suddenly. ‘I suppose that implies a dismissal,” I replied, receiving the despised hat with a bow and making as if to go. “Not that,” she objected, soberly. “It is raining too hard” (it was pouring), ‘‘and, besides, I like company—when the lightning is so severe,” she added, hastily. “Wear my coat,” I offered, gallantly. 5 “The tree affords ample protec- tion from the rain, thank you.” I insisted, however, and threw the coat about her, although she drew away from me with some show of spirit. “Have I offended you?” I ‘asked, innocently. “No,” she replied, “but this is all awfully unconventional,” and a perplexed look passed over her charming face. “The deuce!” I exclaimed under my breath; and my hand sought my inner coat-pocket. I drew out a card-case and opened it. _‘ Yours truly,” I added aloud, bowing low as I handed her one of my Cards. “T am pleased to know you, Mr. Ward,” she returned, politely. “To you believe in reciprocity?” I asked, meaningly. | “Why, of course,” she said, with a merry twinkle in her black eyes. “I suppose you mean to chide me for not having told you my name. I'm sorry I haven’t my card with me, and I don’t know whether I shall tell you my name or not. Yes; I think I shall—some other time, perhaps—but not now. You may call me Miss Eloise Dussot. ‘That is the name by which—I mean that is my name, really.” It was a matter of small moment to me what name she was pleased to assume; I was only conscious of her bewildering beauty. She looked one-and-twenty—-she may have been more. In form and feature she seemed to be perfect. If my powers of description were . equal to the task I might tell you how black her hair was and how red her cheeks. Suffice it to say that I must have been unimpressionable indeed had I not been susceptible to her charms. “TIT suppose,” she said, after a pause, “that my presence requires an explanation?” “| didn’t ask it,” I laughed, “ but my curiosity is aroused.” “T was out taking pictures of wild animals.” “Ts that a direct thrust ?” I interrupted. “T didn't say so; please wait till I have explained. As I was saying, I was taking pictures. I snapped squirrel jon a stump, a

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MY PRINCESS. 421 racoon asleep on a branch, and several birds. This Kodak is much better than a rifle ; it brings down plenty of -game without the cruelty of killing, I love wild animals.” “Do you ?” asked I, eagerly, starting towards her. “ But I never called you one,” she said, petu- lantly, dropping her eyes. We sat and talked for an hour or more. She had travelled much, was well read, and charm- ing both in manner and speech. ‘Though | was inclined to take a humorous view of our meet- ing, I became so interested in my companion that I became really serious. We got along famously, and I was quite sorry when the rain ceased and earth and sky were smiling again. “T must be going,” she said, abruptly. “The grass is wet,” I suggested. “‘ Suppose you throw your coat in front of me, like—— No; I was only jesting,” she pleaded, as I took the coat and made as if to lay it in front of her. Then she dubbed me “ Sir Walter,” by which name she cailed me thereafter. She refused my request to see her safely home, saying that I had as far to go as she had, and in an opposite direction. . How she knew this I am not pre- pared to say, but perhaps the feader may recall the incident later. “No; you can not come, Sir Walter,” she cried, gaily. “You don’t even know where I live; so, I fear, you couldn't find your way home. I appreci- ate your solici- tude, though, and I have enjoyed your company thoroughly.” I thanked her and asked, half jestingly : “What are you going to do with the picture, Miss Dussot?” “You may call me ‘the Princess,’” she answered, with an impetuous gesture—“ that is, if we meet again. Some day | may tell you why. I shall keep the picture asa remembrance of a pleasant afternoon.” 4 She went west and I cast. I looked back when I had gone a little way. She was looking back too, but turned and hurried on when she saw me regarding her. And that is how I first met the Princess. - a» THE CURIOUSLY SHAPED TRER WHERE MR, WARD MET THE “PRINCESS” FOR From a\ THE SECOND TIME. (Photo. I remember well the second time I saw her. It was in October, and the earth lay under the enchantment of ag Indian summer. With gun on shoulder I had sought the wood- land. Squirrels were plentiful, 1 knew; and sometimes one might bag a partridge or two in the dense underbrush. Luck had not favoured me, however, and I was wandering aimlessly through the thicket when, on the brow of a knoll, I caught sight of the Princess. A tree in growing had assumed the shape of a stove-pipe with a double elbow. Upon this natural rustic seat my fair acquaintance sat reading, her back against that portion of the trunk which shot upward like an uplifted fore- arm. I might have passed her by without recognising her had her quick ear not caught the sound of a twig snapping beneath my tread. Though I was some little distance away she knew me readily enough. “Ho, huntsman !” she cried, cheerily. “ How fares the game?” “Worth the stakes,” I replied, significarftly. “ But what are you doing here?” “As if you had the right to ask!” “Well, haven’t I?” I insisted. “ Perhaps,” she answered, smiling, “since we meet as acquaintances.” “Friends,” I corrected ; “ but you haven't told me what you are doing here.” “ Reading,” she replied, laconic- ally. When I asked why I had_ seen nothing of her since our _ first meeting she told me archly that she objected to being inter- viewed, and then added, inconsequentially enough, that it was my own fault. “IT was very ill,” she said, with a shade of sadness in her voice, “and you never once called to inquire after me.” I assured her that I had known nothing of her illness—that, in fact, I had never heard her name mentioned by the townspeople. Then, realizing that perhaps this did not sound well— for she flushed and looked somewhat hurt-—I tried to patch it up by saying that I seldom went to town, anyhow. ‘This was a lame excuse, and untrue, besides.

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422 * THE “WO, HUNTSMAN !' SHE CRIED, CHERRILY. ‘HOW FARES THE GAME?'” “T beg your pardon, Sir Walter, but I have seen you many times,” she said, with emphasis. Now, the truth of the matter is that I had been in the village often of an evening, but never to converse with any of the villagers excepting my friend Charlie Ford, confidential secretary and book-keeper to Messrs. ‘Tosh and Son, grain dealers and speculators. Charlie and I used to sit in the office of an evening, smoking and telling stories. He had given me a glowing description of the “Princess” — Miss Dussot — ending by declaring that she was the “prettiest girl he had ever seen outside a picture-Look.” J had laughed at his enthusiasm, though secretly I agreed with him. I did not inform him that I had met her—a pleasure which Charlie regret- fully admitted had never fallen to him. He worshipped her from afar off. He told me of her brother also. He had heard, he said, that the Daussots lived in the “big house,” the summer home of a wealthy merchant who conducted a business in New York. This gentleman, Mr. S—, was a friend of the Dussots, and, hearing that they were think- ing of going to the country for the sake of the brother’s health, had generously offered them the hospitality of his residence here in the village. From this you will infer that I was quite ready to believe the “ Princess” when she said that she had often seen me at the village. I knew not WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. what comment to make nor what ex- planation to offer; so I asked, simply, “Where?” “Talking with the cashier of ‘Tosh and Son,” came the startling reply. Now, that set me wonder- ing mightily: The offices of Tosh and Son are located on the bank of the canal, some distance back from the street which they face. It would have been impossible for her to have seen me from the street, so that the case began to assume something of the nature of a mystery. The first time I had seen her she had expressed a knowledge of the direction in which my home lay from the village ; now she was telling me of my trips to the town and of my being often in the company of Ford at the office— and all this without my having seen her! I, was unable at the time, however, to elucidate the problem, and some remark of hers put it temporarily out of my thoughts. Much of our conversation that afternoon I have forgotten ; much of what we said has no bearing upon this case; but there was one disclosure she made in confidence which was, to me, quite the sensation of our acquaint- ance. She revealed her identity, declaring herself to be a Princess of the Royal House of Austria! When, startled at this amazing statement, I addressed her as “ Your Royal Highness” she disclaimed the title, with a mandatory stamp of her foot. “T won’t have it!” she said. me as you have always done— Princess. ‘That afternoon we walked to the village together—she and I. After this I saw her often, and was much in her company. Indeed, seldom a day passed without our taking a drive. She invariably held the reins, and I may say that she was an excel- lent horsewoman. T ran in to see Ford one night, just as he was about to lock up. He greeted me jocularly, said he had been expecting me to call for a month back, and motioned me to sit down. “T hear,” he said, tentatively, as he lit a cigar—“I hear that-you and)the dashing ”— “You may call rn

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MY PRINCESS. puff, puff—“ Miss Dussot are no longer ”—puff, puff—-*' strangers.” “Oh ?” I commented, gingerly. “Eh ?” he inquired, eagerly. “T supposed,” I remarked, sarcastically, “that it was a secret.” “Tt looks on the face of-it,” he pur- sued, _ banteringly, “as if you don’t intend remaining a bachelor all your life. Congratula- tions, old man!” “Who the dickens told you all this?” I demanded, some- what annoyed. Charlie laughed good - naturedly as he leaned back in his chair and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. I knew he was waiting for me to make some further = froma} comment; but I did not intend to be drawn out by him. “Well, Stan,” he continued, after a little silence, “ you’ve got the better of me.” “ How's that?” I asked. “You've had an introduction.” “To whom, pray ?” “Alt I know is what I have heard. talk,” he answered, evasively. { 1 thought the public was mani- : festing an unwar- | ranted interest in my affairs, and said so emphatic- ally, whereupon the conversation languished some- what. We sat in silence for some time, Charlie puffing away vigorously at his cigar. I knew him well enough to know that he was burriing with curiosity to learn the extent of my friendship with the Princess; also how I became acquainted with her. However, I enlightened him neither in the one respect It’s town eS ith froma) THE ‘‘ BIG HOUSR” WHERE MISS DUSSOT AND HER BROTHER WERE STAYING. ‘1H OFFICES UF MESSKS. TOSH AND SON. 423 nor the other —either then or afterwards. Instead, I asked him abruptly if he would like to meet her. “Wouldn’t I!” he answered, longingly, nodding his head significantly. “Very well; when the opportunity pre- - sents itself I will present you to her,” I said. “Say, Stan,” he began, after a pause, “you're a member of the Monday Club, I believe ?” “Ves, but I haven't been to a meeting for three months.” “Heard about the invitation Mrs. Ww: has extended to us?” “Not a word — beyond the fact that we are all invited.” “Going to have a great programme, I understand,” continued my friend. ‘ Mind, it’s a secret. Mrs. Tosh told me of the plans. It’s to be a surprise to most of the crowd. I hear Miss Dussot takes part in the literary half. I’m going to render a selection—that is, I’ve promised Mrs. Tosh to help her.” “You're certainly a diplomat—giving away State secrets like mae + that gratis,” I commented. “T wanted you to be sure to he present,” he said, in excuse. “Say, Stan,” he added, “what's the mat- ter with my meet- ing Miss Dussot that evening ?” “Not a thing, as far as I can see,” I replied. “Tl attend to it.” “Thanks, aw- fully, old man,” said Charlie, brightening up. “Remember, it’s next Wednesday night — Thanksgiving Eve.” We talked for a long time after that. When I thought of going and looked at my watch, it (Photo. (Pact.

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424 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was just eleven o’clock, so that 1 must have been there about three hours. I refused Ford’s invitation to stay the night with him, but waited while he locked up, and, as he went north, I left him’ at the walk. My way lay close to the railway tracks. As I was hastening along I saw in the un- certain light of a switch lamp the form of a man, moving in a crouching posjtion close to the track. Calling to mind the fact that there had been’several burglaries and hold-ups in the village of late, I kept an eye on the fellow, for I had no mind to be taken by surprise, being fully preparéd to whip my Colt’s six-shooter into action, if necessity demanded. : Keeping in the shadow of the bank I followed him. He walked hurriedly down the track. Once he paused and listened intently ; but I stopped quickly and shrank back into the shadow, where I could see him quite plainly silhouetted against the clear night sky. He was a big man, and athletic too, I judged. I rightly suspected his objective point to be the offices of ‘Tosh and Son, for he was soon at work at the south window. I could hear a grating sound as of something drawn rapidly across the glass. I approached with extreme caution, as I was in imminent danger of being discovered—not that I feared for myself, but I wished to capture the burglar red-handed. Suddenly, to my sur- “1 COULD SEE HIM QUITE PLAINLY SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE SKY.” prise, he started on a run around the building. For a moment I stood still; then, hearing the sound of someone coming down the wooden walk behind me, I turned around. Under the street lamp, which, flickering in the wind, cast an imperfect light, 1 saw indis- tinctly the figure of a man. Just at this moment the burglar dashed around the building to the north and took to the shelter of Stevenson’s orchard. Instinctively I followed him. I soon became aware that I was more than pursuer—I was also the pursued! Someone was running hard after me. I heard the sound of breaking twigs and the rustle of dead leaves. Fearing a ruse on the part- of the burglar or burglars to waylay me, and realizing that no one could possibly see me, I stopped suddenly close toa tree. The person who was after me passed some distance to the right and dashed on through the orchard. , 1 waited for fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps —it seemed an hour; then, as my nearest way home lay straight ahead, I went on. As I crawled through the wire fence on to the side-walk across the road from the big house, I saw some- one under the oil-lamp quite near me. Turning up my overcoat coJlar, the better to conceal my face, and drawing my cap down over my eyes, I walked hastily past him. It was Tom Hall, night officer. “Good evening,” he said, cheerfully. “Good evening,” I answered, gruffly. “T’ll be blowed! It’s Stan Ward,” I heard him mutter; and I quickened my steps. It was half- past twelve when I reached home. The next Wednesday night we went . to the party together, the Princess and I. She had not told me that she was to take part, but she seemed particularly desirous that I should attend. She looked radiant that night in a low- necked “creation” of black silk, and her wit

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MY PRINCESS. 425 flashed as brilliantly as the diamonds at her throat. The men followed her glorious beauty with eyes in which admiration was ill concealed. She signified her desire to meet Charlie, of whom I had told her so much, so I presented him. Poor fellow! He was desperately in love with her. I am not of a jealous disposi- tion, but I did envy Charlie his broad shoulders. ‘The main feature of the programme was the play, “Macbeth,” given by several of the members of the club. The Princess took the part of Lady Macbeth. Her acting was a genuine sensation, and, withal, a revelation to me. I had judged her capable of undertaking anything of that sort with credit, but had not expected to discover in her such emotional intensity, such an abandonment of self in the character she was delineating. Her rendering stamped her at once, in her powerful interpreta- tion of Lady Macbeth, as a great ¢ragédienne. The audience was spellbound. I was proud of her, and not a little conceited that I stood in the local limelight by reason of our friendship. What would the gossips have said had they known her alleged identity as I did? On our way home I congratulated her heartily. She seemed much pleased, and when we reached the house and I was about to leave her she expressed regret that my relatives were to visit me on the morrow. “T should like to have you with us for Thanksgiving dinner,” she said; “but you won't forget that you are to call next Sunday, will you?” “How could I?” I asked, grow- ing bold enough to press her hand. I felt a slight answering pressure ; then she ran up the steps. “You mustn’t do that again,” she said, reprovingly. I walked home with a buoyant step, notwithstanding the rough- ness of the roads. I was not unhappy. It was a dull November after- noon when I called on the Dussots. The skies were grey and cheerless, the fields were no longer green, but brown and barren. I was shiver- ing as I hurried up the gravelled drive-way. The Princess herself opened the door in answer to my ring, and directly I had laid aside my wraps ushered me into the library, where a log was burning cheerily in the Vol. xvii.—54. fireplace, before which a man sat smoking. He arose as I entered. “ Brother Paul, this is my friend Mr. Ward,” she said. ‘The man greeted me warmly, looking down upon me from his six feet two of height. The resemblance between him and the Princess was marked. His hair was as black as hers, but curly ; he possessed the same regular features, and his eyes were as sparkling. His black - moustache was carefully trained upwards. The Princess had often told me of him, but I had never before seen him—a singular fact, inasmuch as she always spoke of him as being in the house whenever I called. He was apparently a man of broad experience. He had travelled much, and I enjoyed his tales immensely during the little time he remained with us. He excused himself after a while and left us alone, and though I stayed late I did not see him again. We stood before the fireplace, the Princess and I, watching the burning logs. The red fire- light fell full upon her. I could hear the church bells tolling softly in the distance. “What are you thinking of?” I asked, presently. “The pictures I see in the fire,” she answered. . “A tree in the woods, a thunderstorm, two “(* BROTHER PAUL, THIS IS MY FRIEND, MR. WARD,’ SHE SAID.”

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426 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. people happy for an hour. These are the secrets of the forest the burning logs are telling me. I love to fancy I can see real pictures in the grate. Do you believe,” she continued, hesitatingly—“‘do you believe that there may ever arise an occasion when—when—it is proper for a woman to declare her love to a man?” I was nonplussed for a moment, but regained sufficient composure to answer, “Circumstances alter cases --it depends on the woman.” “Suppose,” she persisted, “that there was a difference in social position. The man, we will say, is her equal in everything but position—a mere accident of birth?” “Under those conditions it would still depend upon the girl,” I insisted. ‘If she really loves him, and is sure that he loves her in return, then the proper course—the better way—is for her to let him know.” “She has tried to do so,” she asserted, with a tender light in her eyes. “And he is blind?” I sug- gested. “Yes,” she nodded, “or does not care.” 1 looked at her; she was biting her lip to keep back the tears which glistened in her eyes. “Position is nothing,” she burst out, suddenly; “love is all. Even a Princess has a heart. I love you, Sir Walter!” she con- cluded, passionately. A cloud arose before my eyes ; my senses reeled; the firelight was a red haze, in which, as in a dream, I saw the features of the one woman for whom I would have challenged death. I caught her in my arms; she was smiling through her tears as the sunshine smiles through the rain. Heaven had never seemed so near as then. “T love you too, my Princess,” I said, tenderly, “and my dreams have come true.” We stood for a long time after that, hand in hand, gazing into the fire. Ah! if I had known what a few short days were to bring me—if I had known! If I had known the good-night kiss I gave her was to be the last ! Messrs. Tosh and Son own extensive pasture- lands located some eight miles north of Cayuga, and consisting, for the greater part, of swamp- land and marsh-meadows. Besides owning this large grazing acreage they act as agents for an estate to which belongs five thousand acres of farm-land adjacent to their own. RTE MCNALLY, WHO WAS WITH THE AUTHOK WHEN HE WRNT TO FORD'S RESCUE, From a Photo. by French, Auburn, NY. Buying large shipments of cattle at the Buffalo stock-yards, they pasture them in sum- mer till they find a market offering a margin on their investment, or auction them off. In winter the cattle are housed in closed sheds with stock- pens attached. Here they are fattened and killed, or, as is often the case, sold by auction. At the time of which I write the firm were billed to sell eight hundred head in this manner. A friend of mine, named Pete McNally, t6ld me that he was going to the sale, and asked me to accompany him. He drove his little bay mare, a wiry animal; and, as it proved, we stood in need of speed and endurance. Charlie Ford acted as clerk of the sale and I assisted him. ‘Though many of the cattle were sold in lots of from two to twenty the work took the better part of the day, and it was late when we settled with the buyers. The settlements were adjusted in the office of Mr. C. J. Starr, buyer for Tosh and Son. Many notes were accepted in payment and cheques figured largely on the books, but in spite of this the amount of actual cash approxi- mated three thousand dollars, in bills and silver. Charlie told me that the percentage of cash received on this occasion was much smaller than usual. Contrary to their general custom of sending the money express to Syracuse, the repre- sentatives of the firm locked it in the safe. On our return journey Pete and I stopped at the village of Montezuma, which lies six miles north-east of Cayuga. We were in the corner store smoking and “swopping stories ” with the motley crowd there assembled, when we heard . the bells of Ford’s vehicle as he drove by at a swift pace. I looked at the clock ; it was a quarter to ten. Pete acted at once upon my suggestion that we should start for home. From behind the leafless trees the moon rose red and round, The broken clouds, like ice- Masses in a wintry sea, drifted slowly across the sky. Down the valley the wind was tossing the snow like spray. We turned at Ransom’s bridge and took the road due south. We were facing the wind now, and the snow was driving in sheets, blinding us and drifting into the trap. As we neared Mac’s Woods the wind seemed to increase, and the moon flickered through the flying clouds like a lantern in a gale.

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MY PRINCESS. 427 Suddenly we heard the report of a revolver, followed by several answering shots. “ What the deuce-—” began Pete. “Its Ford,” I replied, grimly ; “ whip up the horse!” I gripped my Colt tightly ; the spirit of battle was strong within me. If Ford was being attacked, I must be counted in. I felt my nerves all on edge as the little mare shot ahead and we flew down the road. At this point there is first a clearing; then the woods, largely of birch growth, run up close to the road on the west side. On the east there is a ridge, at the bottom of which a fence runs parallel to the highway ; but this is nearly hidden by a dense growth of saplings and underbrush. ‘The road stretches out straight ahead for perhaps a quarter of a mile, then swerves slightly to the left. As we struck the edge of the woods the moon came out for an instant and we saw something at the bend. Ford’s grey, swung across the roadway, was plunging and snorting ; two mounted men were apparently attacking the driver. We heard a revolver-shot, followed by an oath; then another shot rang out, and we dashed on at top speed. When we had covered half the distance I motioned for Pete to pull up. Cautioning bim to remain there till I called, I jumped out and ran swiftly down the track. ‘he snow had not drifted much here and excitement lent speed to my heels. My arrival was in the nick of time. Ford, wounded and weak from loss of blood, had sunk to his knees in the bottom of the trap and was vainly trying to protect himself from a shower of blows with the butt of a heavy pistol, rained on his head by the bigger of his two mounted assailants, both of whom were masked. My appearance on the scene was evidently unnoticed, for the other robber, swinging from his horse, began to fumble under the seat of the “cutter,” just as I aimed at the fellow who was attacking Ford. My shot had no other effect than to apprise the highwaymen of my presence. With an oath the big man struck Ford a terrible blow on the head, and poor Charlie fell limply out of the vehicle on to the ground. Dismounting and snatching something which resembled a mail pouch from his companion, the big robber swung easily into his saddle. His companion followed his example. I fired twice as they were mounting. The tall one had already started at a gallop down the road, but the other turned about defiantly and sent three bullets in my direction. One grazed my ear ; the other two whistled uncom- fortably near. Then, with a contemptuous wave of the hand, the fellow wheeled about. His temerity cost him dear, however. Raising my revolver I pulled the trigger—- once, twice, At my second shot the robber reeled, clung to the saddle for a moment, and then collapsed, his horse galloping up the road riderless. ‘The other miscreant, seeing the plight of his companion, wheeled about and bore down upon me. I awaited his approach eagerly, intending, if my remaining bullet failed me, to take to the cover of the woods. He never swerved when I fired, but tried to ride me down. As I sought to jump aside my foot slipped, and I fell directly in front of his flying steed. I thought my time had come, but the animal leaped clear of my prostrate form. Before I could rise, however, he was upon me again. I rolled over and over in the snow as he swept by, and once more just escaped the flying hoofs. When I regained my feet it was to find my enemy in headlong flight ; I saw the moonlight reflected from the iron shod hoofs of his mount. Wondering at his sudden departure, I looked around. Half dazed as I was, I had forgotten my friend McNally, who was now coming up the road at a run. Pete, told me later that he had dropped the reins “at my first shot and, disregarding my injunction to remain where he was, though unarmed, had come to my assistance, “T yelled,” he explained, “just as that cuss hung to the pommel of his saddle and tried to hit you with his gun. That’s what scared him off.” “Where’s Ford?” I demanded, stupidly, as I brushed the snow from my clothes. “Ts that he?” asked Pete, pointing to a dark form lying in the road. It was poor Charlie right enough, battered and bleeding, butalive. Carefully we picked him up, and, at Pete’s suggestion, carried him up the road to Jim Long’s farmhouse. The whole family had been aroused by the shooting, and appeared badly frightened when we entered with our ghastly burden. “Tt do be poor Charlie Ford,” sobbed Mrs. Long, wringing her hands.“ He looks like he was dead, poor feller.” McNally was of the opinion that we should go at once for the doctor. “We can’t do any good,” he urged; “besides, we shall have to telephone the sheriff. Mrs. Long is a good nurse.” Assuring her that the danger had passed, we hurried out and down the road to where the faithful little mare still stood. Ford’s trap was nowhere in sight. When we came to-the body of the robber

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428 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “AT MY SECOND SHOT THE KOBBER REELED.” cerning the affair, and McNally, Long, and I were questioned closely. I volunteered a we got out and peered into his face. He wore a mask—that much I had already noted in the shimmering light of the moon. “He’s dead, right enough,” said McNally, placing his ear to the fetlow’s breast. “Tear off the mask,” I commanded, striking a match. The match sputtered in the wind and went out. I tried another; there was a dash of crimson in the snow, and my hand shook as I nursed the flame. I held the light close to the face of the dead robber. “Tt looks like a girl!” exclaimed Pete, in an awed voice. Horror froze my lips, and I staggered to my feet blindly. It was the Princess! The distance from Mac’s Woods to Cayuga is a good three miles, and we did it at top speed. I called the doctor out while Pete looked for the authorities. The sheriff was communi- cated with by telephone and made acquainted with the details. He cautioned us against re- moving the body. The night’s affair proved too much for my nerves ; I stopped on my way back, leaving Pete when I reached home, and went to bed. The next morning the coroner and a_ deputy arrived from Auburn. . After a superficial — ex- amination the coroner decided that an inquest was unnecessary, and gave orders for the removal of the body to the village lock - up — which is also used as a morgue—there to await positive identi- fication. ‘The deputy informed us that the police of all the surrounding villages had been informed of the tobbery and were on the watch for the escaped robber. He made note of all we told him con- personal description of Paul Dussot—for I was convinced that the burly robber was none other than he. Later in the day a detective arrived on the scene. He came in the interests of Tosh and Son, and from him we learnt that Ford had carried the cash receipts of the sale, which had been transferred from the safe to a pouch. He was to lock up the money in the safe at the Cayuga office overnight and bank it at Auburn next day. He also announced that he had been authorized by Tosh and Son to offer a reward of five hundred dollars for the apprehension of Ford’s assailant. This, to- gether with the report that Ford was not

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MY PRINCESS. : 429 expected to live, aroused the community to action. That afternoon a posse was organized and the surrounding country scoured. ‘Towards night a rider came dashing into the village with the information that Dussot had been discovered, hiding in an unused barn, four miles south- east of the village. He was surrounded by the posse, the messenger stated, and offering a desperate resistance. ‘Two of the besiegers had been fatally wounded, and three or four others shghtly. A number of us at once went over. It was dark when we reached the scene of conflict. The posse had drawn a cordon around the barn and were about to fire it in order to force Dussot to the open. To this end a mass of combustibles had been heaped against the building and set alight. The interior of the barn was lighted up by the flames. ‘To our horror we saw the figure of a man swinging from the old horse-fork track close to the roof. A rope was tied about his neck. “Game to the last,” someone shouted. Overcome at the ghastly sight, I started on a run down the hill, but stumbled over somebody. Quickly recovering my feet, I saw to my intense surprise that a man stood close to me. It was Paul Dussot, and in his upraised hand he held a knife. “Curse you!” he snarled, leaping towards me. “Help!” I cried, and closed with him. In vain I sought to parry his blow. He drove the knife clean through my shoulder —and night fell upon my senses. It was day when I opened my eyes ; a doctor was bending over me. - My shoulder felt stiff and sore, and I could smell medi- cinal odours. I was about to speak, but the doctor forbade me with an authoritative gesture. “Not a word, young man; not a word. H’m! You've slept well. Pulse is a little high, though—a little high.” When I grew stronger I started to question the doctor one morning “How's Ford?” I demande’ “H’m!” he muttered to himself; ‘confirms my theory !” “ Pretty low,” he answered, aloud, shaking his head seriously. “The poor chap has a chance, though,” he added. “Did they get Dussot ?” I asked, eagerly. “No,” he added. ‘Good fellow, though —left me two or three patients.” He laughed at his grim joke. faintly. “But who was that fellow hanging in the barn ?” I demanded. “Simply a dummy Dussot put there to mis- lead you,” answered the doctor. “And what about—her ?” I asked, slowly. There was a strange light in the old gentle- man’s eyes. “Tt beats everything !” he commented. I smiled “See “IT WAS PAUL DUSSOT, AND IN HIS UPRAISED HAND HE HELD A KNIFE.” here, young man,” he continued ; forget all this as soon as you can. I'll tell you what I know about it. In the first place, Dussot escaped. Next, Mr. S——, who had been notified, immediately sent up a private detective from New York—one of those smart Sherlock Holmes sort of fellows, you know. He gave it out officially that S—— had never before heard of the parties in question, nor did he know anyone of that name. Armed with an inventory of the household goods, the detective began an investigation. Understand ?” I nodded. “Well,” pursued (the, doctor, “it seems that “you must

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* 430 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. he found the place had been looted; much of value had been removed. A lot of people in the town have been telling this Detective Harvey that you know more about the case than you choose to tell. He connects you with the fact that the Dussots possessed a knowledge of the amount of money Ford canied. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he should place you under arrest.” “Let him arrest me!” I cried, defiantly. “Tm innocent.” “T believe you, young man; I believe you,” said the doctor, kindly. “Tl get up,” I declared, stoutly. I kept my word —two days later — when I learned much of interest to me. The detective, it was said, had found evidence of a hasty flight. It was appa- rent that Dussot had visited the house after the death of his sister. The detective found a book, on the fly-leaf of which was written the name, “ Pixy Durham,” and an address in Denver. Harvey communicated with the chief of police of that city, and three days later two strangers arrived in Cayuga. One was a deputy; the other a man named John Durham, who clearly identified the dead woman as his sister, Louise Durham, and received permission to remove the body to Denver for burial. Though closely questioned he maintained a sphinx-like silence, only remarking that he greatly deplored the whole affair. Next I was arrested, at the suggestion of Detective Harvey, charged with a complication of crimes — LET HIM ARREST ME!’ 1 CRIED, DEFIANTLY. ‘I'M INNOCENT.’ " attempted burglary, assault, and robbery. I was committed to jail to await the action of the grand jury. That august tribunal returned an indictment against me. I was to have been tried first for assault and robbery, on ‘the ground that the more serious charge should be preferred first, and these two crimes were coincident; but the district attorney held that, inasmuch as Ford’s condition was still precarious, I should be tried for con.plicity in the robbery alone. In case of Ford’s death, of course, I should be charged with manslaughter, he said. The whole case for the prosecution was based on the theory of the detective, fortified in his deductions by the persistent gossip of certain of the townspeople. McNally swore to my desperate attempt to assist Ford when he was_ being attacked. This, together with the fact that I had been stabbed by Dussot, con- clusively proved that I was not in sympathy with the plot to rob Ford. ‘he prosecution sought to establish that I had known of the plans, even if not in sympathy with them, but it was shown by McNally in my favour that our appear- ance on the scene of the robbery was mere chance. ‘Tom Hall swore to having pursued me through Steven- son's orchard, after having surprised me in the act of attempting an entrance to the office of Tosh and Son. He admitted, in cross-examina- tion, that the night had been dark and he was not exactly certain of the identity of the person pursued. He had picked up a glass- cutter. At this juncture Grimshaw, detective in the employ of ‘Tosh and Son, swore to finding a kit of burglars’ tools in the big house. This was favourable to me. Then Dr. D suddenly appeared in the court-room, conferred with my counsel, and was at once placed upon the stand for the defence. He bore a statement sworn to and signed by Ford* in the presence of two witnesses, After a skirmish between the opposing lawyers this was admitted as evidence. * We have received a letter from Mr. Ford recapitulating his con- nection with the affair and entirely corroborating the author's statements, He mentions that the ill-fated|"* Eloise Dussot ” was a “person of peculiar attractiveness and \persoial magnetism.”—Eb.

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MY PRINCESs. 431 BOLD ROBBERY NEAR aoa One Robber Killed ; Posse in Pursuit of Other. (Special to Tribune.) Cayuga, N. Y., Jan. 16.—Last night there occurred, three miles northeast of this village, the most thrilling tobbery in | the criminal annals of Cayuga County, when Chas. R. Ford, cashier for Tosh & Son was attacked by two masked high- waymen, beaten into inscnsibility and robbed. In the battle which ensued, be- tween Peter McNally and H. S. Ward on one side and the robbers on the other, one of the bandits was killed. Asa fitting climax to an episole replete with excite- ment, comes the sensational announce- ment that the dead robber is a woman Her companion escaped. The assault took place between ten and eleven o'clock. It appears that Ford was returning from Fox Ridge where he had been assisting in conducting a sale for his employers, He carried the receipts of the sale, the exaet amount of which could not be ascertained. When passing a dense | wood which runs close to the road on the west side he wasattacked. The detatls of the battle are unknown up to the point when Ward and McNally appeared on the scene. i Ward was armed with a revolver and ve battle single handed. During the Fasilade of shots McNally ran to his as- It was at this time that the Ward fired the fatal sistance. woman was shot. bullet, it is asserted. McNally and Ward had followed Ford from Montezuma. The two men after carrying Ford into the house occupied by James Long hastened to notify the au- thorities It is believed that the wound- ed man will die as his skull is fractured | Coroner Nelson who arrived to-day, alter taking statements, from Long and his wife, McNally and Ward ordered the body of ‘the dead woman removed to the village lock-up in Cayuga. ‘There are several dctectives here on the scene. The principals in last night's tragedy refuse | to talk for publication. The escaped rabber is believed to be in nding somewhere in the immediate sur- rounding country. A reward of $500 has been offered by Tosh & Son for his cap- ture dead or alive. A posse is in hot suit. ; The dead woman was later identified as Eloise Dussot, who with her brother had of late occupied the summer residence of G.T. Stevens. She was prominent local circles, though nothing definite can be learned of her past. A strange coinci- dence to which some attach a peculiar significance is the fact that Ward is re- ported to have been on very friendly terms with the deceased. AN EXTRACT FROM THE CAYUGA ‘COUNTY TRIKUNE” DESCRIBING THK FIGHT WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN, In the document Ford declared his belief that I was innocent. He confessed to having told Louise Durham (‘Eloise Dussot”), on the night of the literary entertainment, of his duties as cashier and of the amounts he handled. He had also told her of the auction, and had estimated the receipts at ten thousand dollars. He denied having informed her that he was to convey the money to Cayuga. Thereupon the jury, without leaving their seats, declared me “not guilty.” The district atturney acknowledged that the evidence did not warrant holding me and refused to press the other charges, so that I was immediately released from custody. A few months after this I received a commu- nication from'a lawyer in Denver. He notified me that I had been made sole beneficiary of a will left by one Louise Durham, made in Denver in September, 1903. The amount of my inheritance, he wrote, was ninety thousand dollars, but a contest (appeal) had been insti tuted in the Supreme Court of Colorado by her brother. I hastened West to defend the suit, but was beaten. : It was shown during the hearing of the case that the deceased was insane, therefore the will could not stand. The only heir, John Durham, accordingly came into the possession of the properties, consisting mainly of shares in mining interests in Leadville and Cripple Creek. I learned here that “ Pixy” Durham (‘“ Paul Dussot ”) was a notorious gambler, “ wanted” for the murder of a companion, and that his sister was an actress of unsound mind, her delusion taking the form that she was a Princess. And so ends my strange story. My experi- ence in this usually sleepy town has proved to me once for all that truth is indeed stranger— far stranger—than fiction, and that Destiny is not to be coerced—not even by the will of a Princess. WARD ACQUITTED. Counsel Introduces Conclusive Evidence. March 17th.—The clouds of suspicion hanging over the head of H. S. Ward were to-day dispelled by testimony pro- duced by his counsel A. K. Barret, just prior to the fina] summing up. The prosecution had rested its case, when the defense sprang a sensation. Dr. Dickson produced a statement sworn toand signed y Ford, the wounded man, whoacknowl- eged having told the Dussot woman of the money he was to carry. He asserted his belief in Ward's inno- cence of any complicity in the affair. Mr McNally’s testimony was decisive as was Grunshaw’s. Just before going to press, word is received of Ward’s ecauittal, _ ps AN RXTRACT FROM THE CAYUGA ‘COUNTY CHRONICLE” REFERRING TO MR. WARD'S ACQUITTAL.

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THE “MECCA” OF CHINA. A VISIT TO THE TOMB OF CONFUCIUS. By R. F. Jounston, M.A., F.R.G.S. In this article Mr. Johnston describes his visit to the sacred city of Ch’u Fou, the burial- place of the great Chinese philosopher Confucius. The photographs illustrating the paper are probably unique, and much of the information concerning this Celestial ‘* Mecca” will be new even to Europeans resident in the country. JS recently as the beginning of the | twentieth century a visit to the south- western portion of the Chinese pro- j vince of Shantung, in which is ~ situated the burial-place of Confucius, the great Chinese sage, necessitated a trip from the nearest coast town of several weeks’ dura- tion; and the only means of performing the journey was to travel on horseback or in mule- carts over roads that in winter were rendered more than disagreeable by snow or dust storms, and in summer were almost impassable owing to floods. At the present time, however, the last four days of the journey to Ch’u. Fou, China’s Holy City, are all that the traveller need spend on these indescribable thoroughfares. From Shanghai one can reach the German colony of Kiao-chou after a day and a_ night spent on a comfort- able steamer ; and the long journey from Kiao-chou to Chinanfu, the capital of the pro- vince, can be ac- complished in a day by the new German _ railway. A pilgrimage from Shanghai to the tomb of Confucius, therefore, can now be carried out in little more than a week. Yet when he has arrived at this sacred Celestial city there is nothing to & lead the pilgrimto fancy himself any- UNG (ON LEFT) AND THE AUTHOR— REPRESENTATIVE OF THE SEVENTY-SIXTH From a Photo. where out of the ordinary, for there is little to distinguish Ch’u Fou—a city peopled almost entirely by descendants of Confucius — from multitudes of rather sordid Chinese towns of the same size. And even the great temple itself—the “ Mecca” of China, as it has been styled—is far excelled both in size and beauty by innumerable sacred buildings in Europe and Asia. The palace of the reigning Duke himself— who, as the direct descendant of Confucius, acts as the nation’s deputy in keeping watch and ward over the temple and tomb of the great sage—is conspicuous neither for outward mag- nificence nor for internal decoration ; and the very grave of Confucius is marked only by a mound and a plain slab of stone. In spite of all this, however, the sympathetic traveller is not likely to forget his visit to the Holy Land of China, if only because of the greater reality and vividness which it will lend hereafter to his own concep- tions of the daily life and surround- ings of the strange old philosopher by whose -teachings the character of hundreds of mil- lions of the human race has been moulded for nearly twenty-five centuries. The present Duke is a robust and well-built man of about thirty- four. He does UKE CLAIMS TO BE THE TION FROM CONFUCIUS.

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THE not know a word of any foreign language, and beyond the shaking of hands is entirely ignorant of European customs. ‘Those, however, who are acquainted with the manners of the educated class in China know well that in courtesy and good breeding they have nothing to learn from any European nation ; and in all China there is no more cultured gentleman than the present Duke K’ung. There is probably no family in the world which can boast so long and uninterrupted a descent from remote ages as can be shown from carved or written records by the family of K’ung. The European sceptic may question whether the blood of Confucius actually flows in the veins of his reputed descendants of to-day, but there is no doubt that the purity of the Duke’s descent is universally accepted as a fact by the mass of the Chinese people, and that he is firmly believed to be the representative of the seventy-sixth generation from Confucius ! The Duke K’ung* has several honours and distinctions in addition to his hereditary title. He is the possessor of the double-eyed peacock’s feather, and the Throne has conferred upon him the coveted honour of using the Purple Bridle *K'ung is the surname of the family. The word Confucius is simply the Latinized form of the Chinese K’ung Fu Tzu—K'ung the Philosopher. From Vol. xvii.—55. “MECCA” a) ONE OF THE ENTRANCES TO THE TEMPLE OF CONFUCIUS. OF CHINA. "433 when he rides or drives. His actual power is no greater than that of an English nobleman, but in rank he takes precedence of the highest per- sonages in the land after the members of the Imperial house. Even the Grand Councillors and the Viceroys of provinces are received in audience after him. He is not, like the Ministers of State, regarded as a servant of the Crown (ch’én), but as an Imperial guest (k’o). It is not wrong, indeed, to regard him as the highest in rank of all Chinese, with- out exception ; for the Imperial family are not Chinese, but Manchus. His official title is “The Most Sacred Duke.” The Temple of Confucius consists of a series of courts, porticoes, altars, and halls, surrounded by a wide park bounded by a lofty wall. The space unoccupied by buildings is planted with great numbers of magnificent old yew, cypress, and pine trees, some of the branches of which have twisted themselves into fantastic shapes round the pillars and memorial stones that stand in isolated positions in the spaces divid- ing the great gateways. ‘Ihe main gate of the temple faces the south, and only a public road separates it from the south gate of the city, which is directly opposite. Neither the main gate of the temple nor the south gate of the city is ever opened except on occasions of extra-

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434° THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. —the lofty, marble-pillared hall which contains the images of Confucius and his most famous disciples. The great central figure is seated under a lofty canopy facing the door. On either side of the statue, which, by an arrangement of screens and hangings, is hardly more than dimly visible when one first enters the temple, are suspended two long scrolls commemorative of the wisdom of Con- fucius, and comparing him to the great forces of Nature. From the lofty and splendidly - decorated roof hang large tablets presented by devout Emperors, bearing various laudatory inscriptions. In front of the figure of Confucius are tables or altars upon which are laid out incense-burners, candlesticks, enamelled vases, and massive bronzes. The bronzes are said to be of almost fabulous anti- quity ; for, if the temple guardians are to be believed, they belonged originally to an Emperor of the Shang Dynasty, which ruled a portion of what is now China from 1766 to 1122 B.c. About a thousand years later, according to the legend, they were brought to Ch’u Fou and presented _ to the Temple of Confucius, where they have since remained. If we reject this story we may, perhaps, accept the tradi- —_— — ~ -__ tion which ascribes them to the later Han Dynasty. Even this would make them not far short of two thousand years old at the present time. ordinary solemnity, such as the visit of an The outside of the principal sanctuary is Emperor to worship at the holy shrine. No surrounded by a colonnade of huge pillars, each Government _ official is allowed to proceed along the public road that leads past this gateway except on foot. Two stone pillars serve to remind him, by the emphatic injunction inscribed upon them, that, in traversing the inter- vening distance, he must dismount from his horse or leave his Sedan chair. The entrance to the temple for persons other than Emperors is by a side gate near the north end of the park. This leads almost directly to the innermost sanctuary From a) bey ‘tI THE GREAT FIGURE OF THE PHILOSOPHER IN THE TEMPLE OF CONFUCIUS, From a Photo. THREE THOUSAND YEARS OLD.

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THE “MECCA” OF CHINA. 435 just or irreligious Emperor rules the land, or wicked Ministers influence him, the tree loses its foliage and wears all the appear- ance of decay. The friends of China who :re apt to despair «f her regeneraticn may fejoice to know that at pre- sent the tree shows every sign of abundant vitality and is luxuriant in foli- age, a fact which should give pause to the pessimists. The tomb of THR WONDERFUL COLUMNS OF THE CENTRAL SANCTUARV—BACH IS COMPOSED OF A SINGLE uLocK or maruin Confucius is From a) ELABORATELY CARVED. Photo. situated about a mile from the of them—apart from the base and capital— city. Long rows of noble trees line the last being composed of a single block of hewn portion of the road to the sacred enclosure marble elaborately carved with writhing dragons. and lead to an imposing main gate. Entirely Among other buildings within the spacious surrounded by a wall is a park of nearly fifty grounds are shrines to the memory of the parents and wile of Confucius, but these are of a_ stern simplicity compared with the ornate splendour of the central hall. A species of juniper, believed by the devout to have sprung from a tree actually planted by Con- fucius himself, is regarded with special _—_ veneration, being supposed to.be possessed of marvellous pro- perties. When the country is being ruled by_an Emperor who follows ~ the illustrious examples set by the mythical Emperors Yas and Shun, and _ otherwise carries out the teachings of Confucius to the benefit of his people and the peace of the empire, the tree flourishes exceedingly, it is : said, and puts forth new Jf 40> shoots. But when an un- From a] STATE OF THE COUNTRY BY.THE CONDIT{ON gFYUTS FOIIABE (Photo.

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436 acres in extent. Within it are clusters of pavilions and memorial stones erected by many Imperial visitors and members of the K’ung family. A large pavilion near the entrance is the place where the Duke rests when he comes to pay his devotions at the graves of his an- cestors. Farther on stone canopies are erected over tablets engraved with — in- scriptions written by the hands of K’ang Hsi and other Emperors. A turn- ing at right angles to the left soon leads us to the tombs of the son and grand- son of Confucius, and finally to that of Confucius himself. The grave is a large mound overgrown with trees and a kind of may-weed called s/z/ tsao, which is supposed to have miraculous properties and is carefully dried and sold in packets to pilgrims. level ground in front of the mound is a plain THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THE TOMB OF CONFUCIUS—THOUSANDS OF DEVOUT PILGRIMS COME HERE EVERY YFAR, EVEN THE WEEDS THAT GROW UPON THE GRAVE ARE REGARDED WITH VENERATION Ap AREFULLY PRESERVED. From a Photo, On the THE AUTHOR AND HIS ESCORT LEAVING THE SACRED CITY, perpendicular slab of stone, having in front an altar for the burning of incense and the presentation of offerings. |The inscription on the stone is in deeply- carved “seal” characters, and is a slightly longer form of the inscription seen in every Con- fucian temple. The words may be roughly _ translated as follows :-— “This is the tomb of the all-perfect and* most holy sage of ancient days, the Prince of Letters, Keung Tzu.” Here it is that thousands of _ pil- grims from all parts of China come an- nually to render their reverent homage to the philosopher whom they have accepted as their guide through life ; and before this sacred tablet, draped for the occasion in Imperial yellow silk, most of the Emperors of the past and present dynasties have prostrated themselves in humble adoration.

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THREE IN A TREE: My Adventure in Ceylon. By THE Rev. E. L. C. Witson, Late CHURCH OF ENGLAND MISSIONARY IN CEYLON. A clergyman's fearful experience in the jungles of Ceylon. Mr. Wilson relates how he found himself ahelpless prisoner in a tree, with a great python on a branch above his head, making ready to seize him, and a hungry tiger down below climbing up after him! eventuated is told in the story. INTEND in the following pages to give VA) an account of something that happened } to me in Ceylon. It is twenty years ago | now, but if it were twice that time I am quite certain I should never forget it. How would you, gentle reader, like to find yourself a prisoner in a tree, with a monstrous python on a branch just above you, making ready to seize you in his death-dealing coils, and a hungry tiger down below in the act of climbing up after you? I was caught between Scylla and Charybdis with a ven- geance ; and the wholesome advice, “In medio tutis- simus ibis,” did not hold good in my case, for my foes were not stationary, but evidently closing in upon me. I went to Ceylon in 1885, and was engaged in mission work not far from Colombo. One day I joined a couple of friends, Messrs. Mark Garrett and Percy Young, who were going out hunting in the jungle. The morning passed by without any striking adventure worth recording, but at four o'clock in the afternoon I noticed a beautiful peacock forty or fifty yards in front of me. I raised my rifle and fired, Ue Aaroby suai tate dk day MR. WILSON'S SWORN STATEMENT, IN WHICH HE VOUCHES FOR THE TRUTH OF THIS STORY. THE AUTHOR, THE REV. Re Le From a Photo, by E, C. Hall, Oxford. How this appalling predicament C. WILSON, the result being that it fell to the ground, slightly wounded ; but when I en- deavoured to catch it it made its escape and was soon out of sight in the thick grass and bushes. I hurried in pursuit, heed- less of my companions’ in- junctions not to proceed too far ; and, as the bird was unable to fly, I hoped to be able to run it down or give it the coup de grace with a second shot from my rifle. I soon discovered, however, that walking through a forest in Ceylon is no joke. ‘There are no paths or roads; and the fallen trees, prickly shrubs, and dense undergrowth make it extremely difficult, and in some places almost impossible, to get along at all, while the thick foliage overhead intercepts the daylight and prevents you seeing in what direction you are travelling.

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438 THE WIDE WORLD I didn’t catch the peacock, and after a while I sat down to rest myself on a log. Suddenly I heard the growling of a tiger unpleasantly near me. Springing to my feet, | looked round for a few moments, hoping to discern some suitable place for shelter. The only idea that occurred to me was to climb up a tree and try to conceal myself, for I did not relish the idea of the beast stalking me, and perhaps leaping upon me before I could get a view of it. y climbing scheme, however, was by no means easy of execution, the trees being for the most part tall, smooth, and straight, with no boughs or -hand-holds low enough down to catch hold of. As I-‘looked anxiously about me I heard that awful sound again, appa- rently still closer, and as it rang in my ears I noticed for the first time a tree that be- longed to a different species, which had branches closer to the ground. There was no time to be lost. I commenced to climb . it, but was forced to abandon my rifle in order to make any headway. It was not much good scaling the tree, for I knew that tigers were first- rate climbers — but no other plan at the moment occurred to me, and I hoped, of course, that the brute would pass on with- " out seeing me. The tree I had selected was notavery difficult one to climb, and when I had ascended some fifteen or sixteen feet I saw that it branched in two directions. Here I stopped for awhile, fervently hoping that the tiger would pass by without perceiving me. A few minutes of breathless anxiety ensued ; then I detected a peculiar sound just above me. Glancing upwards, I saw to my intense horror a dreadful-looking python, with its body coiled round one of the upper branches and its head and neck swinging like a pendulum! My “1 SAW TO MY INTENSE HORROR A DREADFUL-LOOKING PYTHON.” MAGAZINE. hurried climb had evidently disturbed it, and as I gazed at the creature it turned its cold, cruel eyes upon me, hissing occasionally to let me understand that I had fallen into the power of an enemy who would show me no mercy. Trembling with horror, I diverted my gaze as quickly as possible—partly from repugnance, partly from fear that the snake might fascinate me, as I had heard is usually the case with its victims. | On looking down, however, with some dim and vague idea of escap- ing, I beheld my first enemy — the tger —crouching at the foot of the tree, evidently quite at home and in no hurry to take his departure! It was not full-grown, so far as I could judge in my then state of mind; I don’t suppose it was more than six or seven feet inlength. At the same time, however, it was quite big enough and savage enough to make me feel very un- comfortable. It was a terrible moment, I can assure you. Death menaced me on either hand— the python above and the tiger below. I felt literally overcome with horror, but even then I remembered the old saying that while there is life there is hope, and tried to devise some means of escape from my awful predica- ment. I do not think the tiger had as yet seen me, so the chances were that if I kept perfectly quiet it . would move on and seek for its prey else- where. I had no weapon, having, you will remember, been compelled to leave my rifle at the foot of the tree in order to climb it. Presently matters were brought to a crisis. An unlucky movement caused my hat to catch in a branch of the tree. Off it went, in spite of my desperate efforts to retrieve it, and fell down close by the side of the tiger, causing the animal to rise to its feet with a growl of mingled fury and surprise. After looking in every direction in quest of the quarter from which the hat had come, it glanced upwards and saw me ; I beheld

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THREE IN A TREE. 439 the greenish eyes dilate with rage as the brute detected my presence. Now, indeed, things were at their worst ! I remained sitting on the fork of the tree as though spellbound, afraid to move to the right hand or the left on account of the snake, which was still swinging itself relentlessly to and fro just above me. I noticed, with a shudder of dread, that, while my attention was occupied with my other foe, the python had gradually been descending lower and lower, and its hideous head was at the present moment not more than ten or twelve inches above me. Intense as was my mental anguish at this moment, the situation reminded me forcibly of Poe’s story of “The Pit and the Pendulum,” where the sharp knife came slowly down from the roof of the dungeon, swinging like a pendulum, towards the hapless prisoner. As soon as the tiger saw where I was it commenced to climb up after me, snarling fiercely. My only hope now was to crawl along one of the two forked branches, drop to the ground, and pick up my rifle. ‘The snake, however, was so close to my head that I fully expected it would dart upon me if I made an attempt to move out of the way. A cold perspiyation broke out upon my forehead as I looked first at the swaying python and then at the climbing tiger. Just at that mo. ment a parrot settled on the tree, and the reptile, leaving me out of the question for the time being, raised its head to try to seize it. This diver- sion gave me the op- portunity I wanted; I cautiously crawled along one of the branches, and found myself at last between Scylla and Charybdis no longer. Looking down, I tried to calculate the dis- tance from the ground. It was, roughly speaking, about eighteen feet—a nasty drop certainly, and . one that might sprain my ankle, but I made up my mind to risk it sooner than fall a prey to either of my relentless foes. If I succeeded in reaching ferra firma and could snatch up my rifle, the chances were I might shoot the tiger befure it came down from the tree, and, if luck favoured me, I could get a shot at the python as well. , While these ideas were flitting through my mind my four-footed foe was slowly yet surely ascending, while the snake, having failed to capture the parrot, had resumed its swinging position as before. Up came the tiger, higher and higher, till it reached the spot where I had previously been seated. There, above him, was the python, still swaying its head monotonously backwards and forwards. The tiger never looked upwards, but glanced repeatedly to the right and left,sapparently at a loss to discover my whereabouts. Before he could come to a decision as to what direction I had taken, the python suddenly darted down with marvellous rapidity and coiled itself round its neck. Having seized its victim, it proceeded, as is usual with the species, to strangle it. “UP CAME THE TIGFR, THLL IT REACHED THE SPOT WHEKE [MAD PREVIOUSLY, BEEN SEATED.

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440 The tiger, who was using his claws to hold himself on to the tree, was taken completely at a disadvantage. He struggled desper- ately for a few moments; then his eyes started from their sockets, his tongue pro- truded, and blood flowed from his mouth and nos- trils. The great claws relaxed their hold, and as I watched, spell- bound with hor- ror, I saw my four - footed foe hanging in mid- air quite dead, the python still fastened round its neck, a horrible sight indeed to witness. Pre- sently the snake uncoiled the rest of its body from the branch of the tree, and while doing so gradually lowered its prey to the ground. It was an enormous, repulsive-looking reptile of a brown and yellow colour, measuring, I should think, about thirty feet in length, and almost as thick as a man’s thigh. I shuddered as I watched it, and thought what my own fate might have been if a merciful -Providence had not interposed to save me. \ When the tiger had been lowered from the tree the snake glided under its body and, coiling itself round and round it, squeezed its victim almost beyond recognition. It was a sickening sight, and the cracking of the tiger’s bones, which I heard quite distinctly from where I was seated, was a sound that I shall never forget. Ere long the rep- tile uncoiled it- self again, and its prey, or what was now left of it, seemed literally TO THE REPTILE.” “(1 SECURED MY RIFLE AND WENT UP CLOSE ONE OF THE TIGER'S CLAWS ATTACHED TO THE AUTHOR'S WATCH-CHAIN,” From a Photo. by H, Jenkins, Tunbridge Wells. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. reduced to a mass of pulp. Then another horrible performance took place —the python com- menced to swallow it, be- ginning with the head, which soon disappeared from view. Dur- ing the operation the skin pf the snake’s neck be- came so distend- ed that I thought every minute it was going to burst, while its mouth dripped with the glutin- ous saliva which enables it to lubricate its prey, rendering the process of deglutition more easy to accomplish. When I saw what was going on I thought I might safely venture to leave my place of refuge ; I concluded that the python was far too deeply engaged to pay much attention to my movements. Cautiously de- scending the tree by the same way that I had mounted it, I secured my rifle, went up close to the reptile, and, firing at its head, shattered it to pieces. There it lay, with the tiger still firmly fixed in its bleeding jaws, forming the most horrible and extraordinary spec- tacle that I have ever witnessed! I stood for some moments gazing at the two creatures, once so formidable, but now powerless to harm me any longer. At last I was startled by hearing my name shouted, and shortly afterwards my companions appeared upon the scene. They offered me their hearty congratulations after hearing the story of my escape. “Tt was a good thing you fired that shot,” exclaimed one of them, “or I don’t believe we should ever have found you. You've been having some rare sport, too, from. the look of it. Wait a minute; I'll cut off one of the tiger’s claws. You can get it mounted.” I may add that T still wear it. It serves to remind me of my terrible ex- perience in the jungle, when I found myself between a mon- strous python and a_ hungry “tiger.

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The Festival of the “Whale Guest.” By D. A. WILLEY. One of the least-known peoples in the world are the Koryaks, who live in the remote wilds of North-Eastern Asia. Two travellers, sent by the American Government, recently succeeded in penetrating into the unexplored interior of the Koryak country, where they saw many strange sights. In this article Mr. Willey describes the festival of the ‘Whale Guest,” a weird religious ceremony which no white man had beheld before. The article is illustrated with the first photographs ever taken of the celebration. | MONG the least-known peoples who dwell upon the globe to-day are the rw: Koryaks, for the reason that they DOVeMe| live in such a far-away corner of the world that only recently has anything concerning their habits become known to civili- zation. Although daring explorers have ven- tured upon the Arctic plateaux of Northern Europe, penetrated the jungles of Central Africa, and even voyaged along the ice-bound coast of Alaska, most of the Okhotsk country of North-Eastern Asia has remained a sealed book to the rest of the world. Two Russian travellers, however, sent out by the American Museum of Natural History to learn something about the Koryak country, have finally succeeded in getting into its interior, They found evidence to show that the Koryaks are undoubtedly one of the oldest races in existence, and that they probably sailed the northern waters between the Old World and the New long before the American Esquimaux. In fact, they are probably the an- cestors of the American and Siberian Esqui- maux. These un- known _ people have some of the most curious religious cere- monies which could be con- ceived. Like other races out- side the civil- , ized world, they worship various objects, but their special divinity is a creature of From a) Vol. xvii.—56, A MODEL. OF A KORVAK HOUSE—IN THE WINTER THE HUT {8 BURIED, AND THE ONLY ENTRANCE IS THROUGH A HOLE IN THE ROOF. the Okhotsk Sea. Strange to say, it resembles a whale in form, but ‘s very small and actually white in colour, so the Russian travellers who heard of it called it “the white whale,” for want of a better name. It is probably a species of dolphin, but is so rare that only at long intervals is one captured—sometimes in the nets which the Koryaks spread for seal in the bays indenting the shore of the Okhotsk. The nets are put in the little spaces of open water between the ice-floes that cover the bays in winter. The fishers go from net to net over the ice-fields and kill the seals with harpoons, taking them back to shore on the sledges, with which they may travel a hundred miles over the ice. Odd as it may seem, the natives have no fear of the white whale until after it has been killed, and treat the sea divinity with scant courtesy until it has been caught and harpooned, for only when dead is its spirit sup- posed to have any influence for good or evil. To realize the strangeness of the principal Koryak festival, the “Feast of the Whale Guest,” as celebrated by thiscurious tribe, the way in which they live should be first descri- bed. The Rus- sian _ travellers, lacking a better comparison, liken their dwellings to enormous hour- glasses. They cannot be en- tered from the side because above theground (Photo. the walls are not

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442 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. only made of heavy wooden timbers, but upon these is heaped earth ; and, as the summer in this Arctic latitude is only a few weeks in length, the people pack snow and ice around the huts, until they simply look like huge snow-mounds. The roof of a house, however, is not level, but extremely perilous footing, but the natives go down it with little difficulty. The enclosure has a dirt floor and is barren of anything in the shape of furniture. Large copper vessels, for cooking seal and blubber, and a kettle used for melting snow, are the chief household utensils. ‘THE INTERIOR OF A KORYAK HOUSE, SHOWING THE ‘‘STAIRCASE” LEADING FROM THE DOOR IN THE ROOF. From a Photo. hollowed out towards the centre, where the family enter. The “door” is merely a hole in the middle of the roof. When anyone wants to go into the house, he climbs up a beam or log reaching from the roof to the ground outside. This “ladder” has a few notches cut in it to afford a hold for the hands and feet. Up this goes everybody, even the mother, who carries her baby slung in a pouch on her back. The interior is reached by descending another perpendicular hewn stairway, covered with a slippery coating of grease and soot, offering an The diet is limited almost exclusively to fish, half-cooked seal, and whale flesh, with Russian “brick tea” as an occasional luxury. Often thirty or forty people of both sexes, usually relations, inhabit one dwelling. Small skin sleeping-booths, some six feet high by five in width, and heated by a lamp in the centre, are arranged around the walls. These are assigned to married couples and the young girls, several of the latter occupying one booth. Thick fumes of smoke and soot invariably fill the room.

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THE FESTIVAL OF THE —— Ee ee ey eee ee From a) THE HUNTERS BRINGING Dogs play an important part in Koryak religion, which is full of occultism and magic. They are often offered as sacrifices, and are thought to be one of the most potent agencies for keeping away evil spirits and maladies. For this reason the bones of a dog are always hung from a roof-top. As I have already stated, the Feast of the Whale Guest is the chief ceremony with the Koryaks, since so few of the white whales are captured and can thus be “welcomed.” So, when the hunters are seen approaching with a sledge, drawing the body of the animal, the women at once light a fire on the beach, don their dancing coats and boots, and execute a CUTTING UP THE WHALE ON THE BEACH. HOME THE “WHALE GUEST.” 443 SACKED ' WHUTE WHALE [/hot0, sort of welcome’ dance, accompanied by sing- ing the words: “ Ala-la-la-ho! Ala-la-la-ho !” which means: “Ah! a dear guest has come.” As soon as the sledge bearing the whale reaches the shore the dancers return to their houses and remove their dancing costumes, coming back with a large plaited grass mat to lay the body of the distinguished guest upon, and pails and utensils to gather the blood. ‘The men carve the whale ; the meat, blubber, and skin are divided into parts and distributed to the hunters. The head, destined to play a prominent part in the celebration, is wrapped in a grass hood and put upon the roof of the home of its captor. On the evening of the day the whale is captured ial (Photo.

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444 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the first part of the celebration in honour of the mysterious guest is given in the house of the hunter who killed it. These ceremonies were witnessed by only one of the travellers referred to, Mr. Waldemar Jochelson, the first white man who has ever been present at the grotesque worship. Here is the scene as described by Mr. Jochelson :— “The performances were held in the largest house of the Koryak settlement where I was staying, for the headman happened to be the hunter who had had the luck to catch the Whale Guest in his net. The news of the capture spread quickly, and soon women and men_ began arriving from near and far. Many of the women were burdened with cook- ing vessels and dangling offspring, yet they climbed the slippery and soot - covered logs -with the greatest ease. “The interior of the subterranean edifice truly had a weird and gloomy appearance. Stone lamps corresponding to the number of families par- ticipating in the festival were burning around the room and gave off a very unpleasant smell of seal oil. The walls, black with soot, completely absorbed the light of the lamps, and it was very difficult to discern the inmates, who were almost entirely shrouded in the gloom of the underground house. They seemed like apparitions moving to and fro. All spoke in whispers, for fear of ‘awakening’ the guest before the right time. The women were busy cooking and mixing berries, edible grasses, and roots into puddings, while the men sat silently in half-circles near the house - posts, with the youths and children standing or sitting on the ground near the hearth. “To the left of the entrance was set up a sort of shrine or altar, on which were placed charms adorned with plaited grass. One of the most prominent of these charms was the sacred fire-board. ‘This is one of the most essential and highly prized of the ceremonial objects of the SoS From a) A KORVAK WOMAN ON THE WAY TO THE FESTIVAL WITH HER BABY ON HER BACK Koryaks, and is employed in the first part of the whale festival. Besides acting as a fire-making apparatus, it is also considered a potent talisman, and is supposed to take care of the welfare of, and to keep all evil spirits from, the owner's household. The sacred fire-board is the par- ticular fetish of the underground house. _ It is usually of aspen wood, crudely carved in the shape of a human figure, having eyes, nose, and mouth, with holes in it. In one of these a round wooden shaft is turned by means of a bow. The drill is held in position by a person pressing the chin or hand down on a bone socket arranged on the upper part of the drill, while the lower part is quickly revolved in the hole. ‘Two or three are sometimes required to work this implement, though the aspen wood ignites readily. There is a rigid taboo against using the fire furnished by others or cooking on a strange hearth. The vessels of one family must not be brought into con- tact with the fire or hearth of another ; if so, it would be a desecration to the family hearth, and is likely to do someone an injury. When, owing to frequent use, the entire bed of the fire-board is filled with holes, a new one is made; the old one, however, is preserved as a cherished heirloom and kept in the place set aside for the sacred objects. Often fire-boards are found that have outlasted three or more generations. “ After a time all the families went out and returned with bundles of faggots, and these were heaped up ina large fire on the hearth, which partly illuminated the interior. Amid the silence that still reigned the women placed kettles near the fire and melted in them the blubber of the Whale Guest, continuing to whisper to one another meanwhile. Presently they finished the preparation of the puddings, which the Whale | Guest was to take along on its journey to his former home. When these were ready, the women representing the different families passed [Photo.

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THE FESTIVAL OF THE from one corner to another and tendered presents in the shape of small pieces of the puddings. After this two men ascended the roof and brought down the head of the whale, suspend- ing it on a cross-beam at one side of the house. “The appearance of the honoured head of the Whale Guest, symbolizing his entrance and presence among them, now broke the long silence which had reigned before. Instantly from all sides of the house were heard the joyful exclamations of the women, saying, ‘Ah, here the dear guest has come! Visit us often. When you go back to sea tell your friends to come to us also. We will prepare just as nice food for them as you,’ and they pointed with their fingers at the puddings that were placed on “WHALE GUEST.” 445 banqueters at this queer celebration of the Arctic world. They ate dried fish dipped in whale oil, boiled whale meat, broiled skin of the whale, and pudding. As the banquet proceeded the Koryaks became more and more excited. Some of the men threw off their fur garments and danced about nude. The women laughed and talked, addressing words of endearment to the ugly head which lay on the grass mat. All had their faces smeared with oil, and in the dim light, reflecting the smoky oil lamps, they pre- sented a truly unearthly appearance. “Now, however, came the weirdest scene of all. Ata signal from the headman the dancing ceased ; the women and children became as silent as the sacred fire-board. All looked up From a) boards. Everybody in the house was now carried away with excitement. The men and children conversed loudly and crowded around the hearth. Then the host, wearing a collar of plaited grass around his neck, made especially for the ceremony, took a piece of the fat of the white whale and threw it in the flame, saying in the language of the tribe, ‘We are burning it in the fire for thee.’ After this he went to the shrine and placed pieces of fat before the guardian fire board and smeared its mouth with fat. “This was a signal for general feasting to begin, and every person in the house began to partake of food. Here was the bill of fare of the THE WEIKD-LOOKING PRIESTESSES PROSTRATING THEMSELVES BEFORE THE ‘ WHALE GUEST.” {Photo. towards the hole in the roof which marked the entrance. ‘Two figures made their appearance, slowly descending the notched log. They bore no resemblance to human beings, and a believer in the supernatural might have readily taken them for some misshapen monsters from another world, for they resembled neither man nor animal in form. At last they reached the earthen floor, and side by side walked to the place where the Whale Guest was lying. Then I could make out that they were two human beings, but nearly concealed by immense coverings of grass mats, like the one on which the whale head lay. These ‘masks’ reached from the top of the head down the front of the

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446 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. body to the knees, and gave the ‘priestesses’ a most startling appearance in the semi-darkness. “Slowly they bent down until they were prostrate before the Whale Guest. I could only think of a great heap of grass, for there was nothing human about them. They uttered sounds which I learned afterwards were a sort of incantation asking the Whale Guest to be kind to the people and give good fortune in the seal hunt and fisheries. The incantation, how- ever, was not in the Koryak tongue ; I was told that only a few people could understand it. The priestesses were sisters of the headman. The reason why they had to wear masks was that no woman could uncover her face and pay homage to the Whale Guest, because the spirit which dwelt in the head was so powerful that unless a person were so protected they might die suddenly. “ After this performance the people proceeded with the finale of the festival—the sending of the animal's head to its former habitat. ‘Two men ascended the roof and let down into the house long thongs, to which two large bags and the head were tied. Puddings were also placed in the bags, and berries and sacrificial grass in the mouth, so that the Whale Guest would not be hungry on his journey back to the ocean, Thus provisioned, the head and _ bags were carried to the beach by the assem- blage and launched into the sea. At the same time the following fare- well incantation was pro- nounced : ‘Good - bye, dear friend! When the next high tide comes in, come again, and ask all your relations to come with you !’” This invocation to the spirit of the Whale Guest explains why he is re- ceived with such honour and ceremony, although his body is eaten or burned in the oil which the Kor- yaks use in their stone lamps. His favour must be obtained if they are to have an abundant sea uy harvest. ‘They get their bees an living from the icy waters — of the Behring and the | = northern Okhotsk seas, |Piagal ONE OF THE MASKED PRIESTE: THAT IF A WOMAN PAID HOMAGE TO THE ‘ WHALE for they comprise most of the people who dwell in the parts of Siberia which skirt these arms of the ocean. The rigours of winter do not deter them from venturing far out from shore upon the icy surface, not only to net the seal, but to spear food fish. The skins of the seals they make into coats, although this fur is so rich and durable that the covering from a single animal would be worth from twenty to forty pounds sterling if sold in London. Every part is used; nothing is wasted. The blubber they “try out” into oil for heating and lighting, the bones are shaped into har- poons, and the women make the intestines into bags for holding food and other articles. Some- times the Koryaks trade seal skins and fish for the hide of the reindeer and the tea which forms their only beverage, obtaining these from the tribes farther inland. It can well be said, how- ever, that the Koryaks live by the products of the waters, so that it is not strange they should perform these queer rites for a sea creature. The Koryak country is one of the bleakest and most desolate in the world, yet Mr. Jochelson and his companion, after travelling through a part of it and getting information about the number of settle- ments, believe that fully ten thousand Koryaks live within its boundaries. Most of them dwell in settlements on the sea coast and on the shores of the bays known as Cishiga and Penshina. That they are descendants of one of the oldest races even of this ancient con- tinent was shown by the utensils and ornaments secured by the travellers, also the variety of cere- monial objects, for al- though, as stated, the festival tothe Whale Guest is, perhaps, the most im- portant, it is only one of many strange ceremonies which were witnessed by the white men. It is almost needless to say that the remarkable photographs _ illustrating this article are the only ones ever taken of the strange scenes described. y ot, ioe WITH FACE UNCOVERED SHE MIGHT DIE SUDDENLY. From a Photo.

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The Director's Peril. By Captain A. Le KEERSMAECKER, LATE OF THE CONGO FREE STATE SERVICE. An exciting narrative from the Congo, telling how a solitary white man was besieged in his house by a mob of bloodthirsty savages. Death in a variety of horrible forms stared him in the face, but literally at the last moment he was able to make his escape. His story is here set down as he told it to the author, his rescuer. = NG T the time of this adventure—the 4c | year 1902—I was in command of a 7 a\4 Congo Free State steamer called the QZ) Moria, a rather small stern-wheeler, aaa = trading between the military camp of Trebu, at the junction of the Ubanghi River with the Congo River, and Libenge, the last State post on the Upper Ubanghi. There is no twilight in that latitude; it becomes dark almost as soon as the sun dips, and so, as the day was nearly over, I was | making a careful survey of : the river creeks in search of a suitable camping ground for my native crew. The State steamers, I should explain, are not allowed to proceed at night owing to the great dangers of submerged rocks, snags, and treacherous sand- banks, which would render night navigation a very risky, if not impossible, performance. We were nearing a bend in the river, abreast of which stood a big French village called Baniembe, when sud- denly I heard several rifle- shots at close range, appa- rently coming from behind a long, narrow, palm-covered island lying in front of the settlement. I stopped my engines at once and the Florida swung round, hang- ing in the stream, while we waited to see what was going to happen. I had rifles and ammunition in plenty on board, and prepared myself for action as well as my men, numbering about twenty-two, for in these wild parts of the earth one never knows when one may have to fight for one’s life. Presently there rang out the reports of several more shots. While we gazed excitedly in the direction of the sounds we beheld a small steam launch, with its crew stoking for dear life, come THE UNFOR es. | CAPTAIN A. LE KEEKSMAECKER, THE RESCUER OF NATE DIRECTOR, WHOSE TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE HE HERE RELATES. tall, From a Photo. by Devolder, Brussels. tearing round the head of the island, followed at a few hundred yards’ distance by a big war- canoe manned by some of the gigantic Ubanghi natives, who were firing away at the little craft ahead as quickly as they could load. Here was obviously a situation that called for interference, so I rang for “ full speed ahead” and made for the launch, hoisting the State’s official flag and blowing the ship’s siren. By this time all my men were flat on the deck with their rifles ready, waiting in- structions. As we approached the fugitive I saw, through my glasses, that there were two white men on board and a few native boys. Soon we came within range, and everyone was on the alert to see what the savages would do. Our rapid progress, how- ever, did not stop the war- canoe until its excited occu- pants came near enough to see that they had to deal with one of the Free State steamers ; then they stopped paddling and let their craft drift. Meanwhile the little launch made for-us as fast as her engine could drive her, and when within hail one of the white men asked me whether I could take his mate and himself on board and carry them down the river out of reach of those follow- ing. Promptly I answered him in the affirmative, and the launch drew up alongside. A sunburnt fellow came on board, shook my hand, and thanked me in a few excited words for the timely help I had offered him. The launch was made fast alongside my ship, and we then proceeded down the river at full speed, soon leaving behind the great canoe and its astonished and disappointed crew. I offered the new-comer a restorative, for he was exhausted and drenched to the skin. This

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448 THE he accepted gratefully, and, after having ex- changed his wet clothes for garments from my own stock, he gave me the following account of his narrow escape, which I will endzavour to set down as he told it to me. I am the director in the French Congo of a company called the ‘‘ Baniembe,” trading rubber and ivory with the natives for European ware. My residence was the chief village of the concession the French Government allowed us, also called Baniembe. Just lately I had been much disturbed by frequent reports of great disorders in our territory, especi- ally amongst the turbulent savages who form the. population of the riverside villages. No trade was pos- sible while such a troubled state of things continued, and I expected every day to see one of those fear- ful outbursts of madness which periodically seize the natives and make them act like wild beasts, shedding blood wholesale, without any other reason than racial hate. I asked protection from the French Government, but for some reason the authorities could not afford me any assistance. Gradually things went from bad to worse. ‘There were only three of us white menattached to the factory, against perhaps as many thousand savages in the neighbouring villages, who, we knew, were thirsting for plunder and murder. It was a terrible ordeal ; I almost longed for the inevitable outbreak to put an end to the intolerable suspense. Every moment of my life was a torture. Whenever I went outside our building evil-eyed natives watched me narrowly, following my every step. As yet they did not dare to attack the factory openly, but it needed “THE CHIEF STEPPED FORWARD, CLOSELY FOLLOWED BY HIS MEN.” WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. only a trifle to start the conflagration. When it came, I knew we should be ruthlessly murdered—and probably eaten into the bargain. I did not dare to sleep ; I lay down fully dressed each night and watched unceasingly, with rifle and revolver always handy. At last things came to a climax. One Satur- day, if I remember rightly, the village chief came to the factory with a crowd of his warriors, all painted for the warpath with n’goula (the red bark of a tree) and most of them intoxicated with native spirit. ‘The chief stepped forward, closely followed by his men, and halted in front of the factory veranda, boisterously de- manding blankets, salt, and other trade goods. I was alone, as ill- luck would have it, my colleague having gone to Bangui a_ little while before in the steam - launch Alsace - Lorraine, the third white man—Mr. An- / toine, our engineer ' —being in charge of her. The chief, of course, had no right to anything whatever, as he had brought no- thing in exchange, but seeing the state of things I gave him a few blankets as presents, hoping to content him. Then he asked for one of my Win- chester repeating rifles and a belt of cartridges. This was really prepos- terous, and I re- fused to give them to him—for a thousand and one reasons, not the least of which was my own security. ‘Thereupon the savage retired, grumbling and sneering all the while, with his men at his heels. When about two hundred yards away from the factory the whole crowd turned round and came running back, yelling like mad. I saw them coming, and knew instinctively that there was going to be trouble. Against that maddened throng of savages one man stood

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THE DIRECTOR'S PERIL. 449 no earthly chance. How, then, could I save myself ? In the main room of the factory the ceiling was formed by a great white calico cloth ; above this was the roof proper, rising from the four sides of the house, and thatched. In the middle and at one of the sides of the room the trade goods—-bales of cloth, copper wire, bags of salt, and so forth —were piled as high as the ceiling. The sight of that tightly- stretched sheet gave me an idea. Quickly making up my mind, I grasped my _ re- volver and climbed on the top of the bales, drawing aside a corner of the calico ceiling. Next I scrambled on to one of the corner rafters of the roof and re- placed the cloth as neatly as _ possible. I only concealed myself just in time, for a terrific tumult outside warned me that the whole popu- lation were coming up to the factory. Crouching helplessly in my hiding-place, I kept as calm and cool as possible, though I doubted very much whether I should be alive at the end of the next hour. On came the yell- ing mob, bursting open the light wooden door and pouring into the rooms, smashing everything that lay in their path. Through the narrow crevice at the edge of the calico I could just manage to see the wild crowd of savages, raving mad with deep draughts of massanga or malagou (native wine). A tiny rent in the seaming of the ceiling-cloth enabled me to watch my poor boy Yondon, who had been captured outside, dragged forward, trembling with terror. Because he could not or would not tell them where I was he was knocked down by a crashing blow on the head with a massive m’e/i (large native execution knife) and literally torn to pieces. How I longed to avenge him! But I was helpless; in Vol. xvii.—57. “\1 GRASPED MY REVOLVER AND CLIMBED ON THE TOP OF THE BALES, DRAWING ASIDE A CORNER OF THE CALICO CEILING.” another few moments, perhaps, my own end would come. Meanwhile the fiends below continued their work of destruction. Bales were torn open and the valuable cloths they contained thrown in every direction, rifles were seized and brandished, and sun helmets, shirts, and other miscellaneous articles of clothing were eagerly scrambled for and donned by drunken warriors. By this time it must have been close on midday, and still my hiding-place had not been suspected, though I knew full well that if they once started to search for me systematically I should soon be dis- covered. I had my revolver with me, and made up my mind to take my own life rather than fall into the hands of these fiends incar- nate, who, I knew, would have tortured me for days before killing me, as they have done before to other unfortunate whites. Presently, © when they had looted everything worth taking, one of the warriors strode to the entrance of the veranda and, with a savage yell, threw a burning brand on to the dry, thatched roof, which blazed up like tinder. As the first fierce crackle of the flames fell upon my ears my heart seemed to sink within me. I was doomed! If I leaped from my hiding-place to escape the fire I should fall into the clutches of these human beasts ; if I stopped where I was I should inevitably be burnt to death. Yes, I was doomed ; there could be no doubt about it. From my corner I could hear the savages running round and round the house, whooping wildly, and I prepared for the worst, holding my revolver ready for action. Already the heat was like a furnace, and my head was throbbing as though it would burst. Only a few minutes more and the fire would be upon me!

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450 THE WIDE WORLD Just at that critical moment a new sound came to my ears—I distinctly heard the shrill scream of my little steamer’s whistle coming down the river and approaching the landing- stage! As soon as the vessel was sighted, coming round a sharp bend which had hitherto MAGAZINE. I lifted yet more of the thatch, while the fire roared louder and louder behind me; then, taking the lanyard of my revolver between my teeth, I dropped softly to the ground. Anxiously I glanced round the corner. I could only see the smoke of the launch (the water was rather “THE FIENDS BELOW CONTINUED THEIR WORK OF DESTRUCTION.” prevented the natives from seeing her, they left the burning factory and went running down to the river-bank, as I could tell by the patter of their bare feet on the sun-baked ground. Hoping against hope, I gently lifted the overhanging thatched corner of the roof where I was con- cealed and saw that this side of the house was entirely deserted ; everyone had gone to meet the launch. Now, from the front of the factory veranda to the landing-stage was about a hundred yards. If I could run that distance without being captured I might perhaps be able to board the launch and escape to the Belgian side. Gently low at that time of the year) nearly abreast of the landing-stage. Drawing a deep breath, I made a desperate rush towards it, revolver in hand. Almost simultaneously a terrific yell told me that I was detected, but despair seemed to add to my speed, and I literally flew over the ground, with yelling, shrieking natives rushing towards me from all sides, firing as they came. Bullets whistled around me, but none hit me, and every stride brought me nearer to safety. Just as I was leaping from the high bank towards the water I crashed with tremendous force against a big, burly Tongo warrior, who fell

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THE DIRECTOR'S PERIL. 451 “HE FELL BACK HEADLONG, WITH ME ON THE TOP OF HIM.” back headlong, with me on the top of him, into the river. Rising to the surface, panting for breath, I saw him not three yards away, snarl- ing viciously as he looked round for me. Seizing my revolver, now fastened to my wrist with the leather lanyard, I fired point-blank into his ugly face, and he sank at once. Luckily for me, my sudden appearance on the brink of the river-bank had been noticed by my faithful engineer, and he now made directly for me and swung me on board. Though a perfect hail of arrows, throwing -knives, and bullets rained down upon us during this opera- tion, none of us were hit. Raising every ounce of steam the little boiler was capable of, we managed at first to elude the pursuit of their great canoe, which had been hastily manned and sent after us. We were on the point of being overtaken, however, for we had run short of fuel, when, to our intense joy, we sighted your vessel and met with such timely help. But for your arrival we should inevitably have fallen into the hands of those shrieking fiends and met with a fate I dare not think of. This was the terrible narrative that man told me, and Antoine the engineer, his companion, fully bore out his part of the story. I took them down to Trebu with their launch, and there, as my three years’ term of service to the Congo Free State was at an end, I found my successor in command. The director and I went down together to Leopoldville, where we took the Lower Congo railway to Matadi, and thence shipped on board the ss. Auderville for Europe.

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Witches and Witchcraft in Brittany. By Freperic LEEs. In spite of the spread of education, there are still many parts of the civilized world where super- stition is almost as deep-seated in the hearts of the people as it was in the Middle Ages. t As this interesting article shows, the inhabitants of th+ Morbihan is a striking case in point. Brittany and other parts of that ancient French province continue to be firm believers in witches and witch- craft. The photographs accompanying the paper are unique, for the witches of Brittany are exceed- ingly shy of the camera, and will not readily allow themselves to be approached—even by a photo- grapher who, like M. Paul Géniaux, the taker of our pictures, is a Breton bred and born. WELL remember with what in- credulity, some ten years ago, I read Barbey d’Aurevilly’s novel, “L’Ensorcelée,” and how I con- cluded, on reaching the last page of that remarkable story, that the author had drawn an exaggerated picture of the super- stitious nature of the inhabitants of Lower Normandy. Having never come into close daily contact with them, as the novelist had done, it seemed to me that his stories of modern wizards and witchcraft were, like his characters, purely imaginary, and that, though there might certainly exist a feeble undercurrent of super- stition amongst the people of the soil in that part of France—as, indeed, is the case in country places all the world over—there was no solid foundation of fact for the curious instances which he gives of belicf in spells and magic mirrors and the occult powers of nomadic shepherds. But time and experience have proved me to be in the wrong. A lengthy sojourn in Normandy and an acquaintance with French folklore have shown me how accurate an observer Barbey d’Aurevilly was, and how implicitly he is to be trusted when recording the strange beliefs of the peasants amongst whom he passed a great part of his life. But if Normandy is still the home of super- stition, how much more so is the neighbouring province of Brittany! Of all the peoples of France, the Bretons show the least desire to abandon their hold on the past. Surrounded by Druidical remains, placed in the midst of the wildest scenes of Nature —which have a bearing on the mind that must not be overlooked —and cut off from the intellectual centres of the country, they are still as superstitious as they were three hundred years ago. They tell you, for instance, that the fairies, though they have disappeared since the Angelus bell was rung and the Credo was sung, will come again on earth. “ But not,” they add, “until religion is dead ; not until the Angelus bell is rung no more and the last Credo has been sung.” In the last century many aged Breton men and women firmly believed that this change was to come with the dawn of the twentieth century, because the nineteenth was uneven in its number and therefore the séécle inovrstble—that is to say, the century during which people had not the power to see spirits, ‘When the century with an even number comes,” they said, “religion will disappear, and we shall once more see the fairies.” They have an equally strong belief in the existence of Afar?’ Jeans, or goblins, though they, too, are invisible. In the Morbihan dis- trict, with which I am best acquainted, the goblins are called Lsprits follets, and their principal role consists in doing work for those whom they love, in playing malicious tricks upon those they dislike, and in guarding buried treasures from everybody. During the day they are supposed to hide in the woods and in holes in the fields. Side by side with this belief in fairies, pixies, death chariots, ghostly spinners, men and women in white, and spectral lights, we find the Bretons crediting certain people of their own flesh and blood with supernatural powers. Beggars espe- cially are held in great respect, for they are supposed to be able to cast spells on anyone who dares to offend them. There are few farmers in Brittany who would venture to refuse either money or food to a passing beggar, and one frequently hears such remarks as, “I gave him a copper to prevent his bewitching me,” or, “Tt looks as though my cow was bewitched, and yet I’ve given food to every beggar who asked.” If you have ever wondered how it was that, during your summer wanderings in Brittany, you met so many beggars, you now know the reason. Mendicity is ever a paying business, but when it is coupled with the reputation of possessing the evil eye it is doubly so. These begging wizards and witches are fully aware of the advantages of their double profession, and they do not fail, in passing from farm to farm, to play upon the credulity of the peasants by relating the extraordinary cases of witchery which have come under their observation or in which they have played a part. And in nine cases out of ten their auditors accept every word they say as true.

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WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT IN BRITTANY. 453 fell ill, and the domestic cat mysteriously disappeared. ‘The owner of the farm had loudly declared his disbelief in the power of wizards and his contempt for their threats, but his misfortunes are said to have induced him to change his opinions, and to go off post-haste to consult the “ wise man” of the district as to how he could remove the fatal curse upon his belongings. ‘The advice given was simple. ‘Throw some milk on the fire,” said the oracle, “and at the same time pray that the spell be taken off.” The perturbed cultivator did so, and immediately all was well again on his farm. At Trébry, in the same canton, a beggar one day came to a farm to ask for food, but it was refused him. ‘You refuse to give me a bite of bread?” he exclaimed, in- dignantly. ‘Very well; you'll repent of this!” And, sure enough, the story runs, a young woman who lived there, and who was very fond of dress, was constantly find- ANNAIC, A CELEBRATED DRETON WITCH FOK WHOM REMARKAHI E From a\ POWERS ARE CLAIMED. (Photo. ing her clothes torn. Wherever she placed them—in her trunk, or in the chest of On the coast of Brittany, however, belief in drawers in her room—they were lacerated by the powers of these gentry is rapidly diminish- some unseen hand; and this continued for ing, but in the interior of the pro- vince, especially in the Morbihan and in the neighbourhood of Fougéres, it is as strong as ever amongst the feminine section of the population, though the men, perhaps, are beginning to be rather sceptical. If they give a beggar money or food it is probably just as much by way of safeguarding their stacks and buildings from malicious damage as because of their superstitious fears of an evil influence. Breton wizards and _ witches generally cast their spells on animals or on something belong- ing to those who have offended them—rarely on the people them- selves, a peculiarity worth noting. Here are a few instances. At Pen- guily, in the canton of Montcon- tour, a witch cast a spell on the bread which a young woman was making, with the result that, do what she could, it would not rise —to the girl’s dire discomfiture, of course. In the same district, shortly after this well-authenticated case, a farm was bewitched by . an irascible beggar, whereupon the cows Feem a: Phats began to die one by one, the farmer's dog SPRINKLING A“ DIABOLICAL POWDER

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454 fully three months, until, presumably, the occult influence was removed. Nearly every Breton village possesses its witch. She is generally an aged woman with remarkably striking features, piercing black eyes, and wrinkled hands and face, tanned by the sun —just such a one as the well-known witch, Annaic, whose portrait is reproduced. Like her, too, they carry a crooked stick, with which they go tapping up the village street in a manner that has become as familiar to the villagers as the postman’s knock. Sometimes, when the hamlet is plunged in darkness, they will hear the regular tap, tap, outside, and say to one another, “Hark! there goes Annaic.” ‘Thus reminded of her, they will enter on interminable stories, told with bated breath, of her powers, whilst the children listen with open-mouthed wonder and gaze nervously ANNAIC “READING THE LINES" OF A VILLAGER GIRL'S HANDS. From a Photo. over their shoulders at the fantastic shadows cast by the light of the wood fire on the ceiling. Annaic claims a multiplicity of powers, and, as the inhabitants of -her village in the Morbihan corroborate her, it is not for me to deny that she possesses them. I shall, therefore, simply record what I have been told. First of all, let me say that Annaic works for good rather than for evil; she is more of a “white” witch than a “black” one. Though she can compound a diabolical powder and sprinkle it on the threshold of an enemy with the best witch who ever dealt in magic and spells, she prefers to turn an honest penny by THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the perfectly honourable work of which every Sorciere is capable. If a farmer suspects that the illness of one of his cows is due to the maleficent influence of a revengeful beggar, he sends for Annaic, who promptly sets to work to défaine or “unbewitch” the poor animal. This she does by means of passes, or strange Breton words, according to the nature of the spell which has been cast upon it. Should a village girl be anxious about her future—and what girl is not ?—she goes forth to seek Annaic, and having found her within the shadow of a ruined farm-house, where she retires to meditate almost every afternoon, summer and winter alike, presents her hands for examination, as we see a buxom wench doing in the photographs herewith. There is hardly a lassie in the whole village who has not “had her lines read” by this remarkable old woman, who : joins to her power of reading the past and the future in the palms of her clients that of divining their very thoughts— a useful gift not uncommon among the gipsies of this country. When engaged in thought- reading she places her forehead against that of her client, as next shown. Moreover, she can do that which I have seen a celebrated Parisian doctor and hypnotist perform at his clinic in the Rue St. André des Arts—communi- cate will-power to a person who is defici- ent init! Dr. Berillon hypnotizes his sub- ject, and then firmly impresses his wishes upon him by fre- i, quent, audible re- i : * petition; Annaic touches her client’s forehead with a little wand made from the bark of a witch-elm, and, fixing her dark cyes upon him or her, as the case may be, silently wills that the end in view shall be accomplished. The methods are slightly different, but the results are much the same. One of the photographs shows this bright-eyed old crone communicating will-power in this curious manner to a client. Brittany, besides being the home of supersti- tion—perhaps, indeed, becaus®of that very fact —is the land of buried treasures. There is hardly a menhir or boulder which is not sup- posed to cover immense fortunes, which are

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WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT IN BRITTANY. 455 being attributed to want of care in carrying out the sorceress’s injunctions. Witches and buried treasures are closely allied in Brittany; there is not one of these estimable ladies who does not profess to be able—for the inevitable consideration—to indicate the exact spot where you will find untold wealth, which, in some cases, according to tradition, was buried during the Revolu- tion by the Breton aristocracy, who neglected to unearth it afterwards either through unforeseen accidents or through the fatal forgetfulness induced by the guillotine. Even Annaic has tried her hand at treasure-seeking. The picture we reproduce on the next page shows another Breton witch engaged in a quest for hidden wealth, using her mystic crooked stick somewhat after the fashion of a divining-rod. In addition to the powers to which Annaic lays claim, mention should be made of others which are attributed to various sorceresses of the Morbihan. It is a common thing to hear of young women consulting the local witch on the subject of the welfare of their francés. A girl is anxious, for example, about her future husband, who is with the cod- fishers off the coast of Iceland, whence THOUGHT-READING EXTRAORDINARY. From a Photo. he cannot return for many months. Is he said in some districts to belong to man and the devil alternately, each having power over them during a period of thirty years. Many attempts have been made to find them, but, naturally, without the desired result. Forty or fifty years ago, for instance, the inhabitants of Haute- Séve tried to obtain the treasure which is alleged to be buried under the Roche Piquée, but the great rock was unkind; the deeper they ex- cavated beneath it the lower it sank into the ground, and the only reward they received for their labour was the sight of a number of black toads, which, as they jumped from underneath the huge boulder, appeared to grow toa quite unnatural size before their very eyes. A similar attempt was made in 1842, on the advice of a witch, to secure the three casks of gold which tradition declares lie under the dolmen of the Table-Magot, at COMMUNICATING WILL-POWER Pordic, ill success on this occasion From a) BLM) ANDES [Proto.

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456 THE WIDE WORLD A WITCH dead or alive, in ill-health or in the pink of condition? To obtain answers to these questions she takes his portrait to the sorciéve and asks her opinion. The “wise woman,” by gazing intently at the young man’s face and observing the reflection in the glass of the picture- frame of two lighted tapers which she holds crosswise above it, claims to be able, not only to give the awestruck girl the required information, but also to say what the absent one is doing at the very moment of their consulta- tion. Surely crystal-gazing can go no farther than this! The photograph here re- produced depicts a divination séance of this kind, with the girl anxiously await- ing the witch’s verdict as to her lover's welfare. Another witch of the same district makes a speciality of predicting the future of engaged couples, but to do this their presence is indispensable ; she must be in personal contact with them, in the manner shown on the next page. This particular lady—whose pearance is most forbidding —also has a reputation for being able to » A DIVINATION SEANCE LIGHTED TAPERS THE From a Photo. MAGAZINE. SEARCH- ING FOR BURIED TREASURE BY THE AID OF A PHOTOGRAPH AND TWO “WISE WOMAN" CLAIMS TO BE ABLE TO. From a) OBSERVE THE DOINGS OF PERSONS AT A DISTANCE. question the dead, owing to her frequent visits to the cemetery, where she has been © known to sit for hours in deep medi- tation. The final snapshot shows the old dame in her favourite resting-place among the tombs. In conclusion, let me say that the défainous, as the per- son who “unbe- witches” people, animals, or things is called, is in great re- quest all over Brit- tany. I have already mentioned two ex- amples of the men and women who make a business of remoy- (Photo.

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WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT IN BRITTANY. 457 piece of slate for the five francs. Then he hands it to the donne femme, with instructions to place it im- mediately at the bottom of her churn, which he assures her will now turn out excellent butter. The five francs which he has thus dishonestly acquired is, he considers, a_per- fectly legitimate addition to his re- cognised fee of ten francs for the “unbewitching” process. This anecdote has its value, since it shows that, though the majority of the wizards and witches of Brit- tany are genu- inely convinced of their occult ing spells which are cast upon the goods and powers, they do not scruple sometimes to chattels of inhabitants by those with the evil take gross advantage of the credulity of eye, and I will now give a third. Before setting those who employ them. out for the bewitched farm, the défaznous takes a piece of slate about the size of a five-franc piece, and, after wrapping it in a scrap of stuff, puts it in his pocket, where he keeps other similar bits of cloth. On reaching the farm he asks the farmer’s wife, upon whose churn, perhaps, a spell has been cast, to give him five francs. He takes the money, spins it in the air, makes the sign of the cross, and then tells her that if his interven- tion is to be efficacious the money must be wrapped in a piece of cloth. This he does with one of the bits of stuff which he has in his pocket, and at the same . : A WITCH WHO SPENDS MUCH OF Hr TIME IN MEDITATION time adroitly From a) AMONG THE TOMUS. (Photo. substitutes the PREDICTING THE FUTURE OF AN ENGAGED COUPLE, From a Photo, Vol. xvii—58.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS: A Budget of Marine Romances. By Caprain CHARLES CLARK AND J. H. CARPENTER. The concluding instalment of this popular series. Compiled with the assistance of Lloyd's and the leading shipping companies, these absorbing narratives prove conclusively that romance and adventure in plenty are still to be found in the life of the seafarer. VI. sy) UR first story, told by Captain Charles Clark, will be of peculiar interest to those of our readers 26}) who believe there is “something in dreams.” It sets forth the strange vision that came to the captain’s second officer, and the startling manner in which it was fulfilled, even down to the most trifling details. It is some sixteen years ago since I first became interested in dreams. I was then in- charge of the ss. Gorgon, one of the Ocean Coast liners, at the moment lying in Singapore Harbour. And there it came about that our <a second mate, Mr. Thompson, like Joseph of old, dreamed a dream. Said he to me oné morning :— “T had a very peculiar dream about you last night, sir.” “Perhaps you drank too much Schnapps after your chicken curry,” I suggested. “But anyway, let me hear the sum and substance of the matter.” So he held forth much as follows :— “You will not, I think, sir, stay long in this ship, or in this part of the world, if my dream means anything. In it I saw myself standing by the cabin skylight watching the Chinamen scrubbing paint-work, when a shore-boat came along- side the ship. You went to the gangway “1 HAD A VERY PECULIAR DREAM ABOUT YOU LAST NIGHT, SIR. and received from a Malay boatman two letters in black-edged envelopes. One of these you broke open and quickly glanced at its contents. T took particular notice how white and haggard your face looked, and in hurrying past me on your way to the cabin you held up the letters and cried out, in a broken voice :— “«The first part of your dream has come true, Thompson.’ “Still standing in the same position, I then saw you in the cabin writing a note of resigna- tion to the marine superintendent. He came off to interview you ; but, despite that fact, the ship made another trip to Java and the islands, and returned to Singa- pore with you still on board. — After that you were re- lieved in a deuce of a hurry by a man I had never before seen, and you then went ashore in a sam- pan.” “No, that won’t come to pass, Thompson,” I in- terrupted. “For when there is a ship’s boat avail- able I shall never trust myself in a sampan. Besides, I don’t think it very probable, con- sidering that you are acquainted with every officer in the company’s service, that I shall be relieved by some person whom you have * never seen.” “Tt is only as [ dreamt, sir,” re- turned the mate.

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ON “ Anyway, things were not quite so clear to me after you left the ship, but I plainly saw you in deadly peril of your life—and that from the knife of a Chinaman. I remember I tried to warn you ; but, try as I would, I could utter no word, but only point with my finger at the brute.” “Well ; did he cook my goose ?” I queried, somewhat anxiously, for I began to feel interested in this dream of ‘Thompson’s. “T think not, though there appeared to be a bit of a scrap; but you must have got out of it all right, for I saw you travel over land and sea, and sea and land, as if Old Harry was driving you.” “Ts that all?” queried I. © That is all about you, any- way, sir, for the end of my dream was all a confusion of German flags and white en- signs.” Such was the sum and sub- stance of the second mate’s dream, to which, at the time, though thinking it strange, I attached but little importance. And certainly 1 had no inten- tion of helping towards its fulfilment, for the last thing I ‘apprehended was leaving the service and returning to Europe, largely because of the fact that I had spent a long period of time at a pound a day expenses in Singapore hospital, owing to malarial fever. Now, the ship being on a more healthy run, I hoped to make up for lest time, and so place a few dollars to the credit of my sorely-diminished banking account. I, therefore, dismissed Thompson's dream from my mind as a nightmare, the fulfilment of which was neither probable nor to be desired. Neither of us referred to the matter again until the ship had made three successive voyages to Siam, Java, and the islands, and returned again to Singapore. Hardly, on this last occasion, however, had’the Gorgon anchored in Singapore Bay and the passengers gone ashore, before a sampan was paddled up to our starboard gangway ladder. I was standing at the time on that side of the poop, and naturally walked over to the platform of the ladder in order to receive the new-comer. “Letters, tuan,” cried out a Malay postboy, as he quickly ascended and thrust two missives into my hand. Then I perceived, with a sense of foreboding, that each of these envelopes bore THE HIGH SEAS. ome CAPTAIN CHARLFS CLARK, WHO RELATES THIS EXTRAORDINAKY STORY OF A DREAM THAT CAME TUR. From a Photo. by W’. J. Britten, Tisbury. 459 a deep black edge, and, moreover, that they were both addressed to me. Hastily I tore one of them open, only to find that it contained sad news, which forced me at once to the conclusion that it was my duty to return as promptly as possible to England. Now, up to this moment ‘Thompson’s dream had never recurred to my mind; but on hurrying towards the saloon— feeling, as it were, knocked all of a heap—I beheld the second mate standing by the sky- light and staring straight at me. Then that dream of his came back to my memory with such vivid- ness and reality that I was forced, despite myself, to hold up the letters to his view, and to cry out in a voice which I could scarcely recognise as my own: “The first part of your dream has come true, ‘Thompson.” He started violently, as though someone had struck him a blow, and cried in as- tonished tones, ‘ Never, sir!” I hurried on into the saloon and, under the first pangs of an oft-recurring bout of mala- tial fever, wrote out my resig- nation and sent it ashore to Captain Darke, our then marine superintendent. But by the time he came off the fever had me fairly in its grip, and I was a_ temporarily broken-down man, which, in my opinion, accounts for my desiring Thompson to repeat his dream to me again. This he did, and I must confess that on this occasion I intently listened to his narrative, so that the details became firmly fixed in my mind. When the ship dd make another voyage to Java, therefore, returning to Singapore with myself yet on board owing to the company not having been able to procure a man holding a master’s certificate to take my berth, I began to think there was something uncanny about the business. Still the superintendent had found no one to relieve me, and sailing day again came round with the ship ready for sea, only to find me still on board in a state of feverish excitement and anxiety, mostly due to malaria. Then, at the very last moment, off from shore came a large sampan, laden with a couple of sea-chests and my “relief.” “My name is Saunders,” said he, handing me a letter from Captain Darke ; “I only arrived

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460 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. from Australia this morning, so I think I have quickly dropped into a good thing.” Even as the stranger spoke my memory re- verted to that dream of Thompson's, but in the subsequent hurry of exchange and of instruction the impression quickly vanished—only, how- ever, to return with greater force later on, when, having bidden adieu to my messmates, I descended the gangway ladder in order to take my place in the boat. Imagine my surprise when I found that the Malay 4nda/, or boat- swain’s mate, had placed all my luggage in the sampan which had brought off Mr. Saunders ! The ship’s anchor was then nearly “ apeak ” and her whistle blowing, so it came to pass that, willy-nilly, I was pulled ashore in a sampan. Then, with the second mate’s adieu, consist- ing of ‘Good-bye, and for Heaven’s sake look out for that Chinaman!” ringing in my ears, I fell to musing over the nature of dreams. When I landed at Tanjong Pajar Wharf, and my luggage was being carried up to the Straits Hotel, my mind was still dwelling upon that shadowy dream - Chinaman, and though my soul longed for New Zealand apples, then temptingly displayed in baskets by venders on the wharf, 1 passed the first two merchants and bought from the third merely because they were Chinamen and he was a Kling. The greater part of the population of Singapore being Chinamen, this anti- Chinese mood soon passed away, and with it all thought of the second mate’s dream. During that day I had much business to trans- act, and that mostly with Chinese merchants. This finished, 1 booked, but did not then pay for, my passage in a steamship which was to sail on the following day for France, for the reason that I was paying my own passage and believed this to be the quickest and most economical route home, seeing that a view of Southern France and Paris was thrown in as a make-weight. Then, being tired and weary, I returned to my hotel and went to my bedroom. This apartment of mine contained my be- longings, and, besides having an entrance door from the upstairs corridor, it also had folding-doors opening out on a balcony some thirty feet or so above the hotel garden. Once in my room, I locked the door by which I had entered, and made sure that the folding- “CL PERCEIVED, STANDING NEAK THR FOOT OF MY BED, A MISTY AND KATHER OBSCURE- doors appeared to be firmly fastened inside. I then took out from my pocket all the paper money I possessed and counted out my fare, in order to have it ready to hand over in the morning at the office of the Messageries Maritimes. My sea-chest stood between the bedside and the folding-doors opening on the balcony, and, as the bundles of money were rather too bulky to go comfortably under my pillow, 1 unlocked my chest and placed the whole amount of dollars in its upper till, Then I put the key on the dressing-table and threw my handkerchief over it. Next I extinguished the light and threw myself on the bed. Though I went off to sleep, and slept like a log for some three hours, I then suddenly found myself to be, as I thought, wide awake, lying on my back. Glanc- ing around I ex- perienced a mild sensation of wonder at perceiving, standing near the foot of my bed, a misty and rather obscure-looking figure like that of Thompson, LOOKING FIGURE.”

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. with signs of fear upon his face, pointing a shadowy finger over my left shoulder, towards my sea-chest. Inch by inch as it were I turned my head towards the balcony, in dumb obedience to the mate’s index finger. However, my head at last turned so far on the pillow that I lost sight of my former sub- ordinate. ‘Then I be- came suddenly con- scious of two things— firstly, that one of the folding-doors opening on the balcony stood ajar, thus admitting enough moonlight to dimly illuminate the room; and secondly, that, in a crouching attitude over my sea- chest, with his face turned towards me, I could see the upper part of a nude China- man’s body. And that was not all, for in his right hand, a_ short yard away from my heart, there glistened an ugly-looking knife ! Drawing up my legs under me, and assisted by the palms of my hands, I promptly per formed the feat of liter- ally leaping from the bed, at the same time giving vent to a most diabolical yell of rage. I do not think that Celestial tarried at all to try the effect of his dagger on my body. Anyway, he was obscuring the light betwixt the folding-doors when I had the luck to overhaul him. Then I let out at him with my right for all I was worth, my fist crashing into his anatomy from behind somewhere in line with his heart. With a choking gasp he tumbled over the bal- cony rail, falling headlong into the bushes in the garden below. Somehow, as I heard his body strike the earth with a soft thud, I experienced a quiet thrill of satisfaction. Then a new anxiety seized me. What about my money? Back went I into the room with the utmost dispatch. Even as I lit the candle I could not help furtively glancing at the foot of the bed, where, in my malaria-induced halluci- nation, I had seen Thompson. Needless to say, he was not there. “WITH A CHOKING GASP HE TUMBLED OVER THE 461 Presently I caught sight of my handkerchief upon the floor, while the key which it had covered was in the lock of my sea-chest. This, to my dismay, I found unlocked, but on hurriedly raising the lid I was surprised and delighted to find all my dollars intact and exactly, so far as I could judge, in the position I had placed them overnight. Of course I was pleased, and as a further matter of course I roused the house and kicked up a row. This row, however, and the hue-and-cry after my midnight visitor have nothing to do with that dream of ‘Thompson’s, though there are a few further facts to be related which bear on the matter. Travelling waé Marseilles, Paris, Dieppe, and New- haven, I did actually cross ‘sea and land, and land and sea.” At such a rate did I travel, too, that I arrived at my home in the West of Eng- land eighteen hours before the advent of a letter announcing my expected appearance on the scene, which had been posted he- fore my departure from Singapore. Some few years ago the blue - funnelled Coast boats passed into German hands—the Norddeutscher Lloyd of Bremen—and conse- quently flew that flag, the old Gorgon becoming the ZYrngganu, under which name she is still running. And now I learn that, better late than never, the British Admiralty intends to make Singapore a big naval base. But whether that accounts for the second mate’s ‘confusion of German and British flags,” I know not, nor do I much care. I am devoutly thankful, however, that I awoke in time to spoil that Chinaman’s little game, which awakening I shall always believe was owing in some inexplicable way to that dream of Thompson’s, BALCONY RAIL.

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462 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Most stories of the sea emanate from the quarter-deck, as is right and fitting. In the exciting narrative that follows, however, we have a chronicler from the engine-room footplates, in the person of Mr. J. Harold Carpenter, late an engineer of the ss. S- . In the year 1902 I was an engineer on the ss. S——, a steamer of about four thousand five hundred tons register. On this particular voyage we received orders to proceed from Durban, South Africa, to Melbourne to pick up a cargo, The S—— was as comfortable a vessel as a man could wish to sail in. Her crew consisted of Lascars, with eleven European officers and engineers. All told, there were no fewer than fifty-two souls on board. From the very outset that voyage of ours seemed doomed to end disastrously, for accidents occurred down below every few days, until at last the climax was reached. But that is only what engineers have to expect with boilers some time or other, and the work which such accidents entail is dreaded day in and day out unul it comes, cursed heartily at the time, and laughed at when it is all over. We left Durban on the rst of April, 1902 — inauspicious date !—and as Captain Dodds had decided on taking the shortest route we did not expect to sight land for some time. Seven days after leaving the African coast we ran into a heavy swell from the south. I have never known that part of the ocean to be without it. It starts gently at first, but as the days pass it sets in heavier and heavier, until the ocean — resembles nothing more than vast hills of water. And above the sun shines calmly down, with scarcely a cloud in the sky and no wind to speak of. The ship was “running light "— that is, with no cargo. In order to keep her propeller IHE AUTHOR AND HIS) FELLOW From a) UINEERS — THE AUTHOR, MR. J CARVENTER, IS THE MIDDLE FIGURE (STANDING). down, the sea-cocks in the after-hold had been opened, allowing the hold itself to fill with water. The ballast tanks, too, had been filled. This volume of water had the effect of steadying her somewhat, although she rolled badly now and again as the swell set in more heavily. It was on the evening of the 11th of April that the first serious accident happened. We were having our supper at the usual time, half- past six. Every meal we took was accompanied with all sorts of discomforts, so that when the mess-room boy announced that owing to the rolling no hot tea was to be had, we took the news as philosophically as we could. Suddenly a violent shock was felt at the bows, followed almost immediately by another astern, which seemed to jerk that part of the ship upwards, causing her to quiver and shake like a spring-mattress. The engines whirled round for a few revolutions and then stopped, just as we stepped out on deck. Mr. Henderson, the chief engineer, came hurriedly from the forward saloon, where he dined with the officers, and made his way below with Anderson, the second engineer, whilst I went on deck to see what had happened. We had struck some submerged wreckage— probably an old derelict. The blow had been a slanting one, and the wreckage had scraped along the vessel’s side until it had come in contact with the propeller. The re- sult was that two out of the four blades had been broken off. No damage had been done to the ship, fortunately, sothat, provided the strain had not injured the shaft, there was little cause for anxiety. Many a ship has steamed thousands of miles with the loss of two blades. We there- fore tried her at half - speed, but after the engines had run for ten minutes or so we found the bearings andstern tube well- nigh red-hot. The blow had strained the shaft hope- lessly ! HAROLD (Photo.

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. 463 “We shall have to keep her going as long as she'll hold out,” said the chief.‘ There’s not much chance of being picked up here.” And keep her going he did, with the hose on the bearings to cool them, and the maimed shaft creaking and groaning at every revolution. During the night a breeze sprang up, so they set the old suit of trysails on her stumpy masts to help her along a bit. With the breeze, how- ever, the swell increased, and the ship started to roll fearfully. For the next five days we crawled wearily over that vast expanse ot heaving green water, experiencing every physical discomfort possible. Sleep was out of the question, and only obtain- able through sheer exhaustion, for to lie in a bunk without being secured in some way meant that one was hurled out with every heavy lurch. On an even keel the height of the rail above the water-line would be twenty feet, and yet the rails would sometimes dip into the sea, and there was always two or three inches of water washing about the floors of our rooms. ‘This was no gale with its shrieking wind and broken water, but simply a calm sea with a mountainous swell that made the ship roll with fiendish regularity. And it was that very calmness which made it all the more awful. The Lascars became terror-struck, and it was as much as we could do to force them to work in the stokehold. The rest of the time they spent in sobbing out prayers to Allah, Each one of us was almost exhausted for want of sleep and black with five days’ grime, for no one could wash. On the morning of the eighteenth I was taking a spell of fresh air on deck. I was almost asleep from sheer weariness, in spite of the fact that I was forced to hold on to the rail at the break of the bridge deck to prevent myself from being hurled to the other side of the ship. It was not long before Anderson came up from the stokehold, where he had been spending his time in encouraying the Lascars to keep on at their work at the fires. Europeans would have worked until they dropped under such circumstances, but there is too much of the fatalist about the Lascar, who soon gives in and requires careful handling in the hour of need. Anderson was making his way to where I was standing, when I heard a heavy thud against the ship’s side. Anderson heard it too, for he crawled to the engine-room door and listened. As the vessel rolled over to the opposite angle I heard the sound again, this time louder. I joined Anderson at the door and together we listened. ‘The noise continued at every roll, and as my eyes met his I felt myself turning pale. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “One of the boilers is adrift!” It was only too true. One of those three huge boilers that lie side by side across the whole width of the ship had broken from its stays, and with every roll was battering first the one next to it and then the side of the ship. It was only a movement of a few inches now, but the continual action would soon cause the other two to break loose as well, when all three of the mammoths would start to roll from beam to beam, and in the end rivets would fly and plates bulge, and the ship sink like a lump of stone, leaving us barely time to breathe a prayer. At least we could make an attempt to secure it before worse happened, but how were we, in the mountainous sea and exhausted by continuous loss of sleep, to undertake such a difficult task ? “ Where's the chief?” asked Anderson. “ Down below with the fourth,” I replied. At that moment we heard him shout, and a second afterwards there came a terrific report, and the engine-room was filled with hot, scald- ing steam. One of the main steam-pipes had burst owing to the loose boiler ! Without an instant’s hesitation Anderson dis- appeared into the cloud. How he ever reached the stop-valves on the boilers I do not know. I tried to follow him, but failed, for I found myself groping blindly in the hot vapour. After what seemed an eternity the rush of steam was stayed, and I knew that Anderson had succeeded. We found him afterwards lying on the boiler tops, badly scalded, and there were six dead Lascars in the stokehold below. The chief and fourth escaped by a miracle, for they took shelter in the tunnel, and so dodged the death-dealing shower. We left the unfortunate Lascars where they were, but carried poor Anderson to his room, where the steward treated his injuries. Then timber and wedges were brought out, and all hands turned-to to secure the boiler. ‘The Lascars were useless, for they refused to leave the fo’c’s'le, so the mates took their places and helped us as well as they could. It was dangerous work, too, for we had to creep under that rocking boiler, and a false move meant being crushed to death. Sometimes I felt as though I could shriek aloud as that deadly thud, thud continued. Every minute the other boilers were becoming more tremulous and unsafe. Six hours of continuous and dangerous work down below in that stifling atmosphere, and at last the peril was past. But in the end most of us were mere wrecks. ‘There was still more work to be done, for whilst that steam-pipe was broken the engines were uscless, as all the steam from the three boilers Iced into one

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464 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “| VOUND MYSELF GROPING BLINDLY IN THE HOT VAPOUR." main steam-pipe which fed the engines. After a hasty consultation with the chief, three of us set to work. It was done at last, and the engines revolved once more. How we accomplished that gigantic task I don’t know to this day. I can’t remember the details. I only know that it was work, work, work, with a continued roaring in one’s ears and eyes blinded with fatigue. But to the fact that it was eventually achieved we all owed our lives. With great difficulty the Lascars were induced to fetch away the dead bodies of their comrades and to recommence firing on the two available boilers. 1 slept that night on some sacking, wedged up between the spare crank-shaft we carried in the engine-room and the ship's side. It was the only comfort- able place I could find. Those six hours had been one long, horrible nightmare to everyone. For another forty - eight hours we crawled along in this fashion, still rolling all the while, but getting nearer to safety. On the second day the swell seemed to settle down a bit, and the look of anxiety on Captain Dodds’s face died away. But that same night we heard that ominous thud, thud down below again, and found the boiler adrift once more. Again there were another six hours of cruel work, and again we had that boiler secure. On the morning of April 22nd the stays of the funnel gave out, and before anything could be done to secure it the funnel itself buckled and fell over the side with a crash. The carpenter was badly in- jured by the wreckage, so there was another man to be put away and fastened into his bunk. On the following day, how- ever, it looked as though the worst of our troubles were over, for the swell went down con- siderably. For the first time for three weeks we managed tu secure six hours’ sleep, and when I awoke to resume my watch below I felt a new man. If we could only trust to that maimed shaft holding out, another few weeks would see us in Melbourne. The past horrors were soon forgotten, and they seemed like evil dreams which we were now ready to laugh at. A month passed and found us still crawling over the water, a veritable lame duck. But, although the sea had gone down and the weather remained gloriously fine, our troubles were not quite over yet, for after being at sea for five weeks the food commenced to give out. It mattered little to us Europeans, for there was still plenty in the shape of biscuits and tinned meats. ‘The trouble lay with the Lascars. ‘They have special food, consisting mostly of curry made from a dried fish called ‘“‘ Bombay duck.” The necessary spices {for this purpose

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ON THE HIGH SEAS. are carried specially for them, and they make the curry themselves. In conforming with his religion the Mohammedan Lascar refuses to eat the same sort of food as the European, with the exception of roast mutton. Even then the sheep must be killed and the meat cooked by one of themselves. As employers of Lascars are forced to provide them with fresh meat twice a week by the Board of ‘Trade, three sheep had been bought before sailing. Two of them had been killed in the first fortnight; the other had died from exposure during that terrible rolling. Added to this, a whole cask of rice had been spoilt by the sea, and our stock of two of the spices had given out, so that the men were deprived of both their meat and their curry. In vain Captain Dodds expostu- lated, endeavouring to explain how it was and to induce them to accept the biscuits and tinned meats, but somehow they had got it into their heads that provisions had run short all round, and that we Europeans were keeping back the food which was rightfully theirs, and which they demanded. On May 7th, after practically starving for two whole days, they became so threatening and mutinous that we dared not go about unarmed. Work on deck and in the stoke- hold was abandoned, and the fourth engineer was kept busy down below alone, with orders to keep the fires just alight, and to be handy in case of need. Cap- tain Dodds, the chief, and the steward had firearms, whilst we others laid hands on any service- - able weapon we could find, for trouble was fully expected by all. Only the cooks and mess-room boys remained loyal, for they were a different caste to the Lascars, being of Portuguese extraction. For two days and nights a couple of us patrolled the rails at the break of the bridge deck, with orders to allow no Lascar to mount the ladders, of which there were two. The skipper hoped to starve them into submission, but if it came to a tussle nine of us should be able to hold the rails. On the third day of the mutiny Captain Dodds harangued them from the bridge. It was an exciting moment, for just at that time things looked really nasty. I almost pitied the poor beggars herded there on the forward deck, although the looks they directed at us were ugly enough in all conscience, for they were nearly Vol. xvii.-59. 465 mad with hunger and thirst. He told them to select three men, who would be allowed to inspect the stores for themselves. In the event of their refusal they would be kept where they were, for they could not hope to force the rails. At the first sign of violence, he added, he would give the order to fire upon them. : For some minutes the mutineers consulted among themselves, and then the babel of tongues ceased as the three serangs came aft to the foot of the ladder. Scarcely had the three and their escort disappeared when the menacing crowd on the fore-deck surged towards the two ladders, a mass of threatening faces and arms. I heard Captain Dodds shout from the bridge, “Look out! Don’t fire!” Then I smashed my fists into the brown faces as the frenzied men came struggling up the ladder. “] SMASHED MY FISTS INTO THE BROWN FACES AS THE FRENZIED MEN CAME STRUGGLING UP-THE LADDER.”

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466 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The first man I dimly recognised as the greaser in my watch, and his head jerked back at the blow I gave him between the eyes. I expected to see him fall, but he was held up on the ladder by the mass of men below him. 1 hit him again, and at the same time he received a blow on the ribs from Hutchinson, the second mate. It was enough for him, for he half sprang, half toppled sideways to the deck. After that I think my head must have turned with excitement, for I only remember hitting at everything that came in front of me. They could only come up the ladders two at a time, so that it required no great effort to keep them back. Someone pulled me away from behind and took my place, so I sat down on a door-step to recover my breath. ‘They were going at it hard on both ladders, and the second mate was shouting almost as much as the Lascars them- selves. On looking round I saw Anderson, his poor face and arms swathed in cotton-wool and bandages, struggling in the arms of the steward, who was trying to prevent him from joining in the fray. On hearing the noise of the fight the two men who had escorted the serangs aft to inspect the food forced them hurriedly into the poop and closed the door on them. ‘Then they proceeded to the scene of the fight. In about a quarter of an hour, however, the Lascars had had enough of it and fell back to the fore-deck. Captain Dodds immediately gave the order for the three serangs to be released, and these came out from the poop laden with biscuit. ‘They were satisfied that that was the only food to be had, and their influence soon told on the mutinous men. ‘They were allowed to fetch water, and for a full quarter of an hour there was hardly any other sound to be heard on the fore-deck but the steady munching of biscuits. Afterwards a deputation waited on the captain, begging him to overlook their conduct, which had been the result of a mistake. ‘his he wisely consented to do, though he had no intention of letting them off scot-free. Each man was fined a few rupees, and they were thankful to get off so easily. Few of them had received any very serious injuries, but I shall never forget the sight they presented afterwards. Besides appearing thoroughly ashamed of them- selves, most of them had their eyes very neatly blacked, while their other features were swollen and discoloured. On our side the second mate was the only one who suffered, and that from a slight knife-wound in the fore-arm. On Thursday, May 27th, our adventurous voyage came to a close. We crawled into Melbourne under our own steam four weeks over- due, when practically all hopes of our safety had been abandoned. Mention of lengthy voyages and overdue ships reminds us how often vessels long since given up as lost return triumphantly to port, with everybody on board safe. A recent case is somewhat of a record in this respect. On 2tst March, 1905, the fine iron barque Lalla Rookh, owned by Messrs. Lever Brothers, of “Sunlight Soap” fame, left Brisbane, Australia, laden with wheat. From that moment for over six months nothing was heard of her, and she was finally “posted” at Lloyd’s, the underwriters at length refusing to reinsure her even at the rate of ninety-five guineas per cent. Then, to everybody’s astonishment, the missing vessel was reported as having been sighted by the signalman at Scilly. Sure enough the long overdue barque put into Falmouth next day, after a voyage occupying no fewer than one hundred and_ ninety-nine days! Except that her hull was covered with rust and barnacles, there was nothing to indicate to an observer on shore that anything unusual had happened to her. Upon stepping on to her deck, however, quite a different picture presented itself. ‘The crew were in rags, their boots burst, encrusted with salt, and only held together with strips of tarred canvas. They shambled about somewhat painfully, and pre- sented a generally unkempt appearance. The deck furniture and gear also looked as if it had been subjected to a severe and destructive handling. ‘The men had been so long absent that they were anxious to know what had happened in England during their protracted voyage, and— event of events—how the football Cup Tie had gone! Having been shown some newspaper reports of the loss of their vessel, one or two fell to wondering whether their wives had drawn their club-money. The commander, Captain Crawley, was somewhat uncommunicative, but the mate, Mr. John Anderson, related circum- stantially the story of the protracted voyage. It appeared that a day or two after they set sail from Brisbane they encountered stiff easterly gales, which continued to increase in force until a severe storm was raging. This state of things lasted for seventy days, during which the weather was simply appalling, huge seas con- tinually breaking over the labouring vessel and sweeping the decks. Much gear was washed overboard, portions of the bulwarks were carried away, and getting about the decks was an exceedingly perilous business. At the outset of the trouble the order_was given to close-reef the

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ON topsails, and these reefs were not taken out again for a hundred and forty-five days—a fact which will show the sailor more than anything else the severity of the weather. The Lalla Rookh took a hundred days to reach Cape Horn—a passage which in normal weather is accomplished in about a month. All THE IRON MARQUE “L. HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE DAYS—SHE HAD BEE: From a Photo. by\ the time the unlucky barque was held in the grip of the storm, some days, so terrible was the gale, logging only ten miles. Under the con- tinued strain the running-gear became weakened and useless, and the ship was constantly assailed by heavy cross-seas, which smashed the star- board light screen, washed away the forecastle ladder, and did further damage to the bulwarks. The men themselves were in a deplorable condition, and for more than two months had not a dry rag on their bodies. On June 15th the crew considered that the time had arrived when an appeal should be made to the captain to put into some port for repairs, and, accordingly, a respectful “ round robin” was prepared and handed to him. In response to this appeal Captain Crawley endeavoured to make the Falkland Islands, but fate was still against them. The ship ran into another storm-zone and encountered a terrific hurricane. Turning her stern to it, the gallant little barque was compelled to run before it helplessly. THE HIGH SEAS. 467 So things went from bad to worse,-till at last some of the provisions ran short, including the water, and the men were put on_half-rations. The worst calamity, however, was the lack of flour. At length, however, somebody found an old coffee-mill, and with this they ground (1. Geo, Davies, Port Sunlight. wheat taken from the cargo. Thus they were able to make both bread and gruel, so there was no likelihood, should the coffee-mill hold out, of their going short of food, inasmuch as the cargo consisted of twelve hundred tons of wheat. Then the tobacco became exhausted, and the men suffered severely in conse- quence, for a sailor without tobacco is like a ship without a rudder. The men had recourse to smoking tea-leaves and sawdust, which they “flavoured” with the nicotine from their pipes ; some of them also chewed tarred rope. On August 17th, after so many weary months of storm and stress, the weather mended and eventually became normal, and the Za//a Rookh finally reached port. During the whole of that nightmare voyage she spoke only two vessels, one of them a liner, but apparently neither reported her—an inexcusable lack of maritime courtesy, for, had they done so, much heart- breaking anxiety might have been spared the relatives of those on board the barque.

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An interesting description by a local resident of the primitive manners and customs and strange phases of life still to be met with in the rugged isles of Orkney and Shetland, which, isolated from the mainland of Scotland by the fierce and treacherous currents of the Pentland Firth, retain to this ‘<day many old-time characteristics. Peso) HE average man, on being asked to describe the position of the Orkney and. Shetland Islands, would pro- bably reply that he has a hazy idea that they lie somewhere in the far north—on the confines of the Arctic circle, perhaps. Greatly daring, he may further risk the information that the islanders are a semi- barbaric race living more or less in complete ignorance of the ordinary usages and comforts of civilization, There his knowledge of the two groups begins and ends. The map-makers are partly responsible for the prevalent vague ideas as to the geographical relationship which Orkney and Shetland bear to the rest of Scotland, for the islands are usually placed in a corner of the map by themselves — a position doubtless consistent with their un- importance in the opinion of the draughtsman. Regarding the supposed barbaric traits of the people, it is recorded that a lady from the south, intending to visit these remote regions, was careful to provide herself with knives, forks, and spoons, as she believed these necessary adjuncts of civilization would be unknown “so far north.” As a matter of fact, however, the natives have got beyond the stage when whale blubber is esteemed as an article of food, and_ several motor vehicles—sure indications of civilization ! —now traverse the island thoroughfares. Never- theless it is true that, owing to their comparative isolation from the rest of the world, there still The article is illustrated with the author’s own photographs. linger among the people many interesting phases of life and not a few primitive customs, which it is the purpose of this article to describe. The stormy strait that separates the Orkneys from the rugged mainland coast is known as the Pentland Firth, and has long been feared for its swift and complicated currents, which during spring tides attain the truly remarkable velocity of over ten knots an hour. Many a sailing ship caught in acalm has been carried on to the cruel rocks by this deadly ocean river; and none, having once touched bottom, has ever been known to come off again. Some of the islands which intersect the tide cause by deflec- tion dangerous eddies or whirlpools, such as the “ Merry Men of Mey” and the “ Swelkie of Swona”; and any small craft dragged within their influence is whirled to certain destruction. These fierce currents play a not unimportant part in the calculations of the visitor to the islands, for it may perchance happen that a spell of bad weather temporarily cuts the two groups off from all communication with the mainland. The history of Orkney and Shetland is decidedly interesting. In 1468 the islands were given in pledge to the Scottish Crown by King Christian of Denmark as the dowry of a Princess, but there is not the remotest prob- ability of their ever being redeemed. Yet, though politically joined to the rest of Britain, the inhabitants indignantly resent any allusion to themselves as Scots. The Shetlanders, in

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IN THE SWIRL OF THE PENTLAND. 469 A. THE SOLITARY PLANE TKEK UF KIKKWALL OF WHICH THK INHABITANTS Aki VEKY PROUD, From a Photo, particular, pride themselves on their Scandi- navian origin, and have exhibited a great reluct- ance in adopting the agricultural methods of the “ ferry-loupers,” thereby retaining many of the quaint customs of the original settlers and making their country more romantic in the eyes of the visitor. ‘The catch-phrase “ Back to the land ” would have a sarcastic meaning if applied to the Orca- dians, for there is always sufficient labour to meet the needs of farmers, and the surplus population betake themselves to America and the wheat - pro- ducing regions of the Canadian North- West. Fruit-farming does not exist in these sea- girt isles, for trees cannot be suitably protected from the icy winter blasts, although in Kirkwall a plane tree of moderate size stands as a prominent object in the narrow street, regarded with much pride by the inhabitants. The late Mr. Gladstone is said to have cast design- © ing eyes on it in pass- ing, and some visitors accuse the towns- people of taking it in during the winter and replanting it in spring—a base reflection on the island climate. This tree is shown in the accompanying photograph. The farm-houses frequently consist of one long, low building, a single storey in height, and divided off into parlour, kitchen, stable, barn, and byre, or quarters for cattle. Occasionally the dwelling-house is built by itself, parallel to the other buildings, and with a three-feet passage intervening. The houses are thatched with

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470 straw or heather, which has to be frequently renewed. In the older homesteads one door serves as common entrance for both human occupants and cattle, the latter finding their stalls in the one direction and the owners reach- ing the kitchen or living-room by a door through a low dividing wall. ‘There are yet some houses in which there is no built-in kitchen fireplace, bat only an open hearth at which the people, and sometimes young calves or pigs, share the warmth together. On the ridge of the roof is an opening for the egress of the peat smoke, but ordinarily the greater part of it spreads in a blue canopy along the blackened rafters, adhering to cobwebs in dusky festoons, and in damp weather forming an_ irritating drizzle of sooty rain. Everything within takes on the odour of soot, which is sometimes very pungent, owing to the sulphurous nature of the fuel. In the oldest style of houses the sleeping quarters were simply flag-lined recesses in the wall, and, as the masonry was not of the closest, it must have been a difficult matter for the inmates to keep warm when an icy wind was blowing. The box-bed, with its sliding wooden doors—two specimens of which are seen in the typical interior depicted below — marked one stage towards comfort, and this pattern still exists in many houses, in defiance of modern ideas as to the benefits of fresh air, and, although it has its drawbacks from the hygienic standpoint, it compensates by keeping its occu- “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. pants cosy. In Shetland these beds are often double-deckers, and, consequently, only the young and agile are capable of performing the acrobatic feat necessary in order to reach the upper berth. The rural swain in these remote islands is decidedly unconventional in his love-making, and prefers to meet his charmer under the cloak of night. When the old folks have retired he is admitted to the kitchen by a prearranged signal, conducting his courtship without a thought of Mrs. Grundy. His modesty, or rather bashful- ness, makes him conceal the state of his heart from all his friends, for he is afraid they may consider it a childish weakness, quite unbecom- ing in a man. However, some of them divine his intentions sooner or later, and be they friends or rivals they try their utmost to play some practical joke on him if possible. Some night, for instance, after he has gained access to his lady-love, he may find, on trying to get out again, that the door has been tied from the outside. About midsummer there is practically no night in these far northern is'ands, and the transition from sunset to dawn is marked by a distinct glow above the northern horizon. ‘The smallest print can be easily read at the midnight hour, photographs can he taken, and the caroling of larks floats down through the summer night. The remarkable photograph reproduced on the next page—a veritable study Frou a) A COTTAGE INTERIOR, SHOWING THE OLD-FASHIONED BOX-HEDS. (Photo.

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IN THE SWIRL OF THE PENTLAND. 471 A STUDY IN REFLECTION in reflections —was taken at this wonderful midnight hour. At midwinter, however, opposite conditions prevail, and the sun, laggard in rising, seems anxious to disappear altogether in the south- west. The islands bear a melancholy aspect during this season, and a depressing influence seems also to rest on the people. On New Year's Day, however, the suppressed energy of the Kirkwallian youths and grown-up men finds ‘THE REMARKABLE GAME OF FOOTBALL PLAYED IN THE STREETS OF KIRKWALL ON lane From a) NEW VEAR'S DAY. PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN AT MIDNIGHT, IN MIDSUMMER. outlet in an antiquated “game,” which is kept up with unfailing regularity. About one o’clock a great crowd gathers in front of the old cathedral, and punctually to the stroke of the hour a leathern ball is shot down from the market-cross among a sea of upturned faces and hands. The crowd is divided into two sections, representing the upper and lower divisions of the town, and, starting from the cross, each side tries to carry or push the ball to its own goal.* All classes are represented in the motley crowd. The doctor pushes with the scavenger, the banker with the tinker, and __ tailors and tramps, sailors and tradesmen, all join in the general scuffle. No rules but sheer force are re- cognised. If the day is damp a cloud of steam ascends from the perspir- ing contestants, and as progress is made this way or that the cheers of the spectators mingle with the hoarse cries of the * Avery similar game is played annually at Workington, in Cumber- F 1was fully d bed in our [Photo. issue for May, 1904.—

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472 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. players. The narrow and irregular street affords no room for kicking the ball, and it accordingly remains clasped by the hands of two or three strong fellows in the centre. From side to side the frenzied players sway, striving desperately to make definite progress either up or down. If the ball remains too long in one place a dozen or two recruits fall in and the seething mob staggers along the pavement once more. Most of the shop windows are protected with outer shutters or are barricaded with pieces of timber hanging down in front. Stout walls have been known to yield under the heavy pressure, and many iron railings are broken or twisted by the strain. All damage to property, however, is afterwards made good by the town council, as the authorities are powerless or unwilling to stop the savage game, although broken ribs, dislocated shoulders, bleed- ing faces, and tattered garments punctuate the different stages of this advanced form of football. ‘The goal at the landward end of the town has not been satisfactorily defined, and there 1s usually some quarrelling when it reaches this quarter. The harbour marks the finishing point at the opposite end, and the ball, after being thrown into the water, is hoisted to the topmast of a vessel near by. Sub- sequently it is handed as a trophy to the youth who has displayed conspicu- ous courage in the fray. The people of North Ronaldshay speak an almost unintelligible patois, and Norse words and customs’ have lingered among them longer than in other parts of Orkney. The natives wear riv/ins — home-made moccasins of dried horse-skin or cow- skin, which are pulled round the feet like a purse and secured with string. These indis- pensable articles of foot- wear figure in the pro- posal of the young man, who pops the question in the following picturesque words :— “T’m come tae see thee tae ha’e thee tae tak’ me. If it be’s Guid’s will an’ thine ’at thoo’re tae be mine, I'll gi’e thee a pair o’ horse-hide rivlins, an’ reed tape tae tie them wi’ ; what says thoo, buddo ?” THE “STONE OF ODIN IT BUT NOTHING IS KNOWN AS TO ITS PURPOSE. From a Photo. IS OF PREHISTORIC ANTIQUITY, Seal - catching was once a favourite sport among the people, and as many as sixty seals have been reported caught at one time with a net. A story is told of one enthusiast who caught a seal whilst lying in bed—truly an original method of capture! His cottage was near a narrow inlet of the sea much frequented by seals, or “selkies” as they are_called locally. Across the opening in the dot he placed a net, and from it conducted a rope through a hole in the door of the house. The end of the rope was attached to his ankle, and tethered in this fashion he went to bed. Shortly afterwards he was rudely awakened by a violent jerk on the rope and found himself being pulled towards the door. Farther advance was, for the time being, barred by the physical impcssibility of getting his body through the hole, but -hastily untying the knot he hurried to the net and found a large seal entangled in its meshes. A solitary stone of prel.istoric antiquity, with a hole through it, stands in one of the fields, and is known as the Stone of Odin, but the purpose of its erection can only be conjectured. At the so-called Drui- dical Circles of Sten- ness, on an adjoining mainland, stood a similar stone, supposed to have been used for tying the sacrificial victim to in days before history was written, Within historic times, however, it was used in a different way. Young people, when they fell in love, journeyed to the Stone of Odin, and, joining hands through it, solemnly plighted their troth. ‘The ceremony was held so very sacred that the party breaking the engagement was counted infamous and ostracized from all society. Whale hunts are be- coming rarer in the bays and voes of the north than they were some years ago, but when they do occur enough excitement follows to please everyone. The writer once had the good luck to witness a magnificent capture of whales, and the memory of it is not likely to grow dim. The bottle-noses were first sighted on the morning of a fine summer day,

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IN THE gambolling near the entrance of a long bay or fiord. Immediately small fishing-boats were manned and started from all points in pursuit, trying toreach the seaward side of the whales and so drive them into shallow water. For a time their efforts proved ineffectual, but as the boats increased in numbers there was less diffi- culty in hemming in the prey. At intervals detachments of whales, headed by a leader, would leave the main body and make a break for liberty, but a shower of stones, accom- | panied by yell- ing and shout- ing and beating of tin pails, would frighten them back. Gradually, as the flotilla pressed on the rear of the school, they were driven nearer the shore, but the leaders, dis- covering _ their danger, would again wheel round for the open sea. Coming into such close quarters with the boats, the men tried to beat them back with their oars and long - handled hooks, while some used harpoons in a more orthodox fashion, and others tried to pierce the black hides with butchers’ knives as the monsters ploughed and plunged alongside. ‘The discordant shouting and babel of strange sounds at length terrified the whales into a state of extreme panic, and, stirring up the water like a maelstrom, they stampeded straight for the beach. Close behind came the boats, every man rowing with all his might, so as to be in at the death. When the front ranks at length stranded, the scene that followed baffles description. Boats were over- turned, men jumped out waist-deep in the water, and commenced to slay right and left with such tude instruments as were available. The sea was lashed into foam, which soon turned from white to crimson. As each whale succumbed a hawser was attached to its tail and fifty men hauled it up on the beach to be ready for “flinching.” About two hundred were secured in this way. Another exciting pursuit is the gathering of wild birds’ eggs from the cliffs. The cliffs in some places are over a thousand feet in perpen- Vol. xvii,—60, THM CIKCLES OF STKNNESS, THE OKCADIAN STUNEHENGK—IN FUKMER DAYS YOUNG PEOPLE PLIGHTED THEIK TROTH HEKE THROUGH A PERFORATED STONE. From a Photo, SWIRL OF THE PENTLAND. 473 dicular height, and it requires some nerve to allow oneself to be swung over such a dizzy precipice. There are men, however, who regu- larly collect eggs in this fashion, trusting their lives to their companions above and the strength of a hempen rope. Facing the cliff, the crags- man is lowered slowly, while he pushes himselt out from projecting rocks with his hands and feet, until he reaches a ledge on which the eggs \re numerous. Sometimes he has to reach places which lie — inward from the face of the cliffs, and he has to push himself outwards with considerable a adroitness so that the rope lands him pro- perly with the momentum _ of the return swing. If he fails he may be swung round by the rope untwisting, thereby making him giddy, or. the strands of the rope may be loosened and give way. Some of the ropes are only half- rotten sheep’s tethers, which could not safely support a dog. A lighter line is usually em- ployed for signalling to those above and pulling up the baskets of eggs, as it is not always possible to see or hear the man below. In pulling the man up precaution must be taken in having the rope vertical, because otherwise, in - releasing himself from a ledge, he might be swung sideways like a pendulum and strike some projection. In the Island of Foula, in Shetland, several lives have been lost while engaged in this dangerous calling, but neverthe- less the younger generation do not hesitate to follow the risky work. Of great antiquity is the primitive device called the hand-quern, used for grinding corn, of which an illustration is given ; in Orkney this is used for grinding malt for making home- brewed ale. The native Shetland horses, cattle, sheep, and even poultry are diminutive, no doubt caused by generations of scanty living and exposure to a rigorous climate. Shetland ponies, of course, are known far beyond their native isles, where they still wander in herds over the wide moors. What the camel is to the Arabian the pony

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474 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. me “% oa “2 peer! Bee (3 GRINDING CORN FOR THE HOME WITH THE ANCIENT “ From a Photo, is to the Shetlander. Animals belonging to different owners roam together on the wide wastes, bits of coloured ribbon tied to manes or tails serving for identification. When snow falls they scrape the ground with their feet, trying to get a mouthful of grass. ‘They are never housed, but when a storm is imminent flock home for shelter and a scanty meal of coarse hay, though they sometimes sustain life by eating drift sea- weed, of which cattle are also fond. As the warm weather approaches they shed their shaggy winter coats, and wear a very untidy aspect during the process. For carrying purposes two “maisies” of open network are hung one on each side of the pony and suspended to the pro- jecting horns of a wooden saddle. Strings of ponies may often be seen bringing home peats in this manner, and they are nearly always driven in front like a flock of sheep. The typical Shetland dwelling is similar to that in Orkney, the walls frescoed within with the brown tricklings of soot. The “ bismar,” or old Norwegian weighing beam, is still seen, and HAND-QUERN.” an occasional oil-lamp, or “ crusie,” glimmers ina corner. In some houses in’ Muckle Roe and North Mavine hand-looms are used for weaving coarse cloth for home wear. The bill of fare in these houses is as simple as the sur- roundings. The heads of codfish are boiled down and chopped, and oil, ex- tracted from the livers, is stirred in with them. This appetizing mixture, called “stap,” is served in a tin or earthen- ware basin and is eaten with boiled potatoes from another dish. Boiled potatoes with salt herrings steeped in fat are slight variations of this simple menu. Dessert consists of bread and “blaand”—the serum of buttermilk, separated by heat and kept until it is old and sharp, resembling lime-water in colour and taste. Superstitions of various kinds: still linger among the old and the less educated, but in common with the rest of Scotland their credulity concerning witchcraft and charms, and their belief in fairies, hilltrows, and ghosts in general was more widespread in an older generation. In Mid and South Yell nothing was considered so effectual for the cure of scrofula as the Royal touch. “As a substitute for the actual living finger of Royalty,” says a local authority, “a few crowns and half- crowns of the coinage of the first Charles, carefully handed down from father to son, have been effectual to- wards removing this disease. and that to an extent which may seem incredible to many whose A SHETLAND PONY SHEDDING HIS WINTER COAT. fz0m a Photg.

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IN THE SWIRL OF THE PENTLAND. 475 From a) SHETLAND PONIES IN THE PLOUGH. Photo. minds, in reference to the healing virtue still inherent in Royalty may be in a more sophis cated state than those of Her Majesty’s subjects in this latitude.” 7 In Orkney it was believed that, if the water in which a sick person had been washed was carried by a reputed witch to a gate on the public highway and there emptied, the affliction would vanish, but would attack the first per- son passing through the gate. Even now- adays some of the fishermen, when preparing to go to sea, do not like their path to be crossed by a minister or a black cat. In some districts, if any per- son is emaciated by sickness they believe that his heart is worn away. ‘“ They have a method of in- vestigating whether it is so or not, or whether it shall be restored, which is : A REMARKABLE VIKING DRINKING-CUP FOUND AT HAROLDSWICK — IT 15 this: they melt a Froma] FORMED FRUM THE VERTEURAD OF A WHALE. (Photo. piece of lead and throw it into cold water, and, according to the shape it takes, so they form their judgment. If it takes the shape of a heart (their imaginations are pretty quick in helping out this and other kinds of augury) the person is not altogether gone, and he will recover ; if otherwise, ace versd.” Unst, the last of the Shetlands, is the most northerly of the British Isles, and probably one of the first to be settled by the Scandinavians. It was at Harolds- wick that Harold Harfager first landed on the expedition which resulted in the subjugation of both the Orkney “ia and Shetland atx islands and their bs ae annexation to \ Norway. Here was sia 4 so 3) found the unique Viking drinking-cup —formed from the vertebree of a whale —which is shown in the last photograph.

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THE LUCK” OF THE LEZINSKYS By DonaLtp MackIE. A strange and dramatic story concerning the vicissitudes of a family talisman—how it was lost and finally recovered, with the result that the rightful heiress to a real estate was able to establish her claim. EW experiences in life are more curious and varied than those of the chief land-agent of a large Russian estate, above all in the provinces of ™_ White Russia and Lithuania, which have been for generations the battlefield between Russians and Poles, and where almost every hill and river, marsh and forest, recalls some romantic episode or tragedy. The echoes of ancient feuds still linger everywhere, and almost daily the chief land-agent is besieged with appeals for protection or to redress wrongs of which the victims would never dare to complain to the police. Such, at least, was my own experience while temporarily occupying this responsible position upon two very large estates in this part of the” Russian empire, the property of a wealthy absentee landowner. One of the most remarkable incidents that occurred during my administration of these estates arose out of what was seemingly a very trivial matter, which, however, ultimately led to _ very dramatic results, of vital consequence to the persons chiefly concerned. On my way home one day, after a short absence, I was startled by a gipsy woman, who, tushing wildly out of the adjoining forest, suddenly threw herself upon her knees in the narrow road and loudly implored my protection. So sudden was her appearance that my coach- man was only just in time to prevent the startled horses from trampling her beneath their feet. As she obstinately refused to move I was com- pelled to alight, when she seized my feet and, kissing them again and again, in spite of all my efforts to prevent her, renewed her incoherent appeals for help. At length she rose and, the shawl with which she had covered her head falling to her shoulders, revealed a face which, though she was about sixty years of age, must in her girlhood have been one of exquisite beauty. Her trouble, it appeared, had arisen out of an offence of which the gipsies are constantly guilty —that of lighting camp-fires in portions of the forest where, in the dry summer months, a single spark might do damage to the value of many thousands of roubles. One of the foresters had caught the culprits in the very act, but instead of having them brought before me had taken the matter into his own hands and had imposed a fine—for his own personal benefit, of course— of twenty roubles (two pounds). This they were unable at that moment to pay, whereupon the forester, catching sight of a small bronze coffer of curious construction, the only object of value he could discover in |the camp, insisted

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THE “LUCK” OF upon carrying it away, promising to restore it if the fine was paid. This coffer, the woman assured me, was regarded as the “luck” or mascot of the band, and its loss would, according to their belief, entail their absolute ruin. ‘Three days later, when they had collected the money to pay the fine, the forester coolly informed them that they were too late, as their mascot had been sold. Though the gipsies had certainly been in the wrong, the whole affair was so irregular that I promised a full investiga- tion and the restoration of the mascot if the woman’s story proved to be true. My inquiry next morning, in the presence of the forester and a deputation of gipsies, resulted in what the French would call “a very bad quarter of an hour ” for the culprit, who was forced to confess that the gipsies’ story was true, and that he had sold the coffer to a Jew in the neighbouring townlet of Gloubokoé. The forester was, of course, at once dismissed, and a few days later, when at Gloubokoé, I called upon the Jew dealer, in the hope of being able to recover and restore the mascot. In this, however, I was disappointed, as the dealer assured me he had sold it almost immediately to a person who was an utter stranger to him. This statement I was by no means inclined to believe, for I learned at the only hostelry in the town that no stranger who would be likely to pay two or three pounds for an artistic curiosity had visited the remote place for weeks. Soon after my return I received another visit from Judith, the gipsy woman, whose despair was pitiable to witness when I told her that in spite of all my efforts 1 saw but little chance of recovering her mascot; but I promised that, in that case, she should receive full compensation for its value from the forester. To my surprise she almost indignantly rejected the proposal. “Never, never,” she exclaimed, “ would any of us accept a single copeck if it cannot be found! It would be the same thing as if we had “THE DEALER ASSURED ME HE HAD SOLD IT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY.” THE LOZINSKYS. 477 sold it. And the child,” she wailed, bursting into another flood of tears, “the poor little Countess Stella! The ‘Luck’ of the Lozinskys —lost—lost, and all through my fault !” “The Countess Stella!” I exclaimed. “ Who is she, and what can she have to do with your talisman ?” Judith made a violent effort to recover herself, but remained silent. It was clear that the name had escaped her unintentionally in her wild out- burst of grief and dismay, and that the loss of the coffer affected other persons quite as much as the gipsies themselves. “Come,” I said, at length ; “you see Iam trying to help you all I can, but if you want me to get your mascot back you must ex- plain every- thing without Teserve.” Once _ more poor Judith fell upon her knees. ‘TI will tell you everything,” she exclaimed, “ but only—the Ghospodeen must not be offended—only if you will promise to do nothing to injure the Countess Stella, and— pardon me, Ghospodeen, it is not for us, but for the safety of the child—if you will give me also a lock of your hair. Without it I dare not speak.” This last strange proviso, I realized, was due to a curious superstition common to the gipsies in White Russia and many of the Lithuanian peasants. When a lock of one’s hair, however minute, is given as a pledge of fidelity to a promise, the recipient can by means of an incantation, it is believed, bring down irre- trievable disaster upon the donor should he fail to keep his: word. My curiosity had been too much excited for me to refuse so simple a guarantee of my promise. Judith thereupon told me a strangely romantic story, which a few weeks later I was to discover was true in every particular. One winter’s night in Hungary, more than fifty years before, a family party was driving gaily home in sledges from a ball at a neighbouring chateau, when one of their number,

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478 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the young Countess Jozefa, suddenly exclaimed that she had seen a child asleep in the snow. At her earnest entreaty the sledge was turned back, and Judith, then a child of seven or eight, clad only in a worn-out shawl and nearly dead from exposure, was found lying beside the track. Some hours previously she had fallen unper- ceived from the sledge of a wandering band of gipsies to which she belonged. Wrapped in the warm furs in which the young Countess enveloped her, the half-frozen child was taken to the chateau, and from the moment when she recovered consciousness she formed an undying devotion and all who had taken refuge there shot down amid the jeers of the soldiers. The unhappy Countess, who had been seriously wounded, sought refuge in the cellars below the mansion. Their work of destruction over, the Cossacks withdrew, supposing that she, like all the other inmates of the house, had perished. For two days the Countess lay untended amid the smok- ing ruins, when at length she heard stealthy footsteps approaching. It was her faithful Judith, the only one of all her surviving dependents who had dared to try and discover the fate of her beloved mistress ! “But what has for the girl who had saved her life. The Countess, then about fifteen, cherished a hardly less romantic affection for her little protegée, . and when at length she was married to the Polish Count Felix Lozin- sky, in 1852, the gipsy Judith accom- panied her to White Russia as her maid. Despite her love for her mistress, how- ever, the — strange, irresistible passion for wandering, _ in- herent in the gipsy this to do with your lost mascot?” IT asked, as the gipsy woman went on. “Ah! Ghospodeen, one moment, and you will see,” cried Judith, clasping her hands. “When the Countess fled from her own house, all she could bring with her was the ‘Luck’ of the Lozinskys, a small bronze coffer which the family had pos- sessed for centuries. It is their greatest treasure, for should it ever be lost their nature, at length completely overcame her, and she joined a band of her compatriots who had made their head - quarters in the vicinity. Again and again she returned to the mistress whom she adored, but, in spite of all her promises of reform, invariably went back, a few months later, to her wild forest life. At length came the Polish insurrection of 1863, and all the horrors that followed its sup- pression. Count Lozinsky, one of the most active Polish leaders, was captured and executed and his estates were confiscated, while his widow, the Countess Jozefa, sought refuge in the house of her husband’s brother, Count Andreas Lozinsky. It was the old, old story I had heard so often: a whole country lying at the mercy of men whom uncontrolled power of rapine and bloodshed had bereft of their senses ; the story of horrors whose wailing echoes still seem to linger in every nook and dell of that beautiful but hapless land. Count Andreas was soon captured in his turn and hanged, his beautiful ancestral home burned to the ground, THE WRONZ COPPER WHICH FOKMED THE “LUCK.” From a Sketch by the Author. fortunes will be ruined once for all. When I found my poor mistress lying wounded and _half-dead among the charred beams that had fallen into the cellar, she was clasping the coffer to her heart. She knew she was dying, so she made me take charge of it and swear to protect it. “When the house was burned the forest took fire, too, but our band escaped to a swamp near by. We carried my poor mistress there at once and did all we could for her. For my sake she had protected our people for years, and we gipsies, Ghospodeen, never forget a kindness. As she lay there on the ground I made every member of the band give me a lock of hair, and, mingling with it some of my own, I pro- nounced the curse that would fall upon us if we failed to keep and protect the ‘Luck’ of the Lozinskys. “Before dawn the dear mistress was dead ; but before she died she gave me two letters. One I was to send by a safe hand to Hungary, and on no account to trust to the post. The other I was to keepand give to a messenger

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THE “LUCK” OF who would come for the coffer, from friends in Hungary, when the country was tranquil again, and show me a ring I well knew—one my mistress had worn in the old days when she was a girl at home. One of the bravest of our band undertook to take the letter to Hungary a few months later, but we have had no news of him from that day to this. We fear that, trying to escape without a passport, he was shot, like so many other refugees, by the Russian guards.” “But, when you had no answer, why did you not write yourself to the Countess’s friends in Hungary years ago, or go back yourself and take the mascot with you, when the insurrection was over?” I asked. “None of our band can write, Ghospodeen,” replied Judith, “and we dared not trust a stranger to write the letter for us. As we gipsies have no passports I could not have crossed the frontier without the risk of being caught. I feared nothing for myself, but I had sworn to the Countess that I would never part with the coffer for a day. I should have been obliged to take it with me, and if I had been caught it would, of course, have been lost. No, Ghospodeen, there was nothing for us to do but to wait.” “But where is the letter the Countess gave you to keep ?” I asked. “T have it here,” said Judith, drawing from her bosom an old, time-worn leather case. “I have kept it here ever since the day when my dying mistress gave it to me.” Very reluctantly the faithful old gipsy allowed me to examine the letter and—after much persuasion—to open the closely-sealed envelope and peruse the contents. At the first glance I saw that the gipsy had mistaken her instructions, and had evidently kept the letter she had been told to send on. This was a fortunate mistake, as it turned out, for it contained most valuable information, which would have been irretrievably lost had she sent it as the Countess intended. I was able to gather from the letter that Count Andreas, who was unmarried, had dis- covered shortly before his death that he and his brother had been betrayed to the Russians by his cousin, Anton Wodzinsky, to whom he had bequeathed the whole of his property, the greater part of which was in Austrian Galicia, and thus safe from confiscation by the Russian Government. Anton, who was in financial difficulties, had evidently betrayed his cousin in the expectation of succeeding at once to his fortune if he could ensure his death at the hands of the Russians. ‘The moment Andreas had discovered his cousin’s diabolical ingratitude he had revoked and destroyed his will, which THE LOZINSKYS. 479 Wodzinsky supposed was safe in the hands of the lawyers in Galicia, and executed another, leaving all he possessed to his niece, Helena, the only child of the Countess Jozefa and his late brother Felix, and her heirs for ever. Fore- seeing that his escape was almost impossible, he had given this will to the Countess, who con- cealed it in the lining of the “ Luck” of the Lozinskys. No words can describe the amazement of Judith on learning what the mascot really con- tained, and her tempest of self-reproaches for having lost it after all. It was some time before I could extract from her some coherent account of the subsequent history of the family. Shortly before the troubles of 1863 the Countess had sent her daughter Helena for safety to a convent school in Austria. On the death of her parents, whose fortune was con- fiscated by the Russian Government, she was left almost penniless. ‘Twelve years later, when twenty-two years of age, she married her cousin, Count Stefan Lozinsky, the last of his race in the male line, whose fortunes were but little more prosperous than her own. Her husband died at Vilna in 1882, and the Countess Helena herself passed away ten years afterwards, leaving their only child Stella as the sole living descendant of the Countess Jozefa. Meanwhile, the property of Count Andreas in Galicia had been a prey to the lawyers. As no will was forthcoming there had been a vast number of claimants as next of kin, the most persistent of whom had been the treacherous Anton Wodzinsky. It was now, of course, evident to me that the rightful owner of the Lozinsky property was Judith’s frofexée, the Countess Stella, who was then about seventeen years of age. On the death of her mother five years previously a man named Karl Schmidt, an intimate friend, as I afterwards learned, of Wodzinsky, had become the trustee of the little legacy that the Countess Helena was able to leave her, and by him she had been sent to the family of a small farmer named Ossinsky, who was living near the estate of Rostovinsky— where her grandmother, the Countess Jozefa, had lost her life—about three hours’ drive from Gloubokoé. It is needless to say that I was now more than ever determined to recover the “Luck” of the Lozinskys if it were possible, but for the moment the only thing I could do was to impress upon Judith the importance of reveal- ing nothing about the will until the mascot was found. “Tf it is in the hands of anyone in this neigh- bourhood,” cried Judith, her dark eyes flashing, “we shall soon know who it is. , For centuries

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480 THE WIDE WORLD the ‘Luck’ of the Lozinskys has always brought speedy ruin and death to anyone who gets possession of it wrongfully.” For several weeks, in spite of all my efforts, I could obtain absolutely no clue as to who the purchaser of the coffer could have been, and I was beginning to fear that it was irretrievably lost when a very startling incident occurred. The first news of it was brought to me by Judith—her cheeks flushed and her eyes flash- ing with triumphant vengeance. Anton Wod- zinsky and Karl Schmidt had both been found lying dead upon the road some ten or fifteen miles from Gloubokoé ! “Oh, Ghospodeen!” she exclaimed ; “I told you that a disaster would soon show who had the mascot, and now it is certain it’ must have been Anton Wodzinsky! For the love of the MAGAZINE. pressed from head-quarters. I do not fancy that is likely, for they were both in very bad odour at Vilna, and, in fact, they only got what they deserved.” It appeared that Wodzinsky, though he had become an Austrian subject, was interested financially in the construction of the light railway which was then being laid down between Gloubokoé and the station of Sventsiany, on the main line to St. Petersburg, and was acting in concert with Karl Schmidt. The latter had taken a contract for making a cutting through some hilly ground, and had adopted an extremely ingenious mode of getting the work done at the lowest possible cost. He had sent word to a number of villages, all at a distance of more than a day’s journey, that on a certain date he would require a hundred peasants with their horses “THE FIRS! NEWS OF IT WAS BROUGHT TO ME BY JUDITH.” Holy Virgin,” she cried, falling upon her knees, “do all you can to help us now to get it back, and Heaven will bless you. Think of the poor young Countess Stella, living the life of a peasant girl when all the fortune of the Lozinskys is rightly hers!” Without being in any way superstitious, I was so forcibly struck by the strange coincidence of Wodzinsky’s presence here at this moment, and his sudden death so soon after the gipsy’s pre- diction, that I drove immediately to the Pristaf, the chief police officer of the stan, or sub- district, who I knew could give me the fullest details of the affair. A couple of hours later I reached the house of this official, a bluff, good- natured Russian, whom I had known for several years. “TI believe I know how the men got killed,” he remarked, pouring out a glass of vodka for himself and offering one to me, “ but, if my sus- picion is correct, I do not think I shall officially discover the culprits, unless I am very much and carts, and offered the—for this district— enormous wage of two roubles (about four shillings) a day. On the day named about two hundred peasants made their appearance, only to be told that there was a mistake in the date, as Karl Schmidt would not arrive for a day or two. The keeper of the Jewish Aadak, or hostelry, who was in the plot, assured them, however, that there would be work for all, and as most of them were penniless he would gladly give them credit, if they liked to wait. About eighty of the men accepted his offer, and were supplied with vodka ad dbitum and forage for their horses for a week. At length Schmidt appeared, and stated that he did not require more than fifty men, but would engage them all—if they accepted his terms. The idea of two roubles a day was nonsense ; he would not go beyond seventy-five copecks (about eighteenpence) a day for a man and his horse, the wages to be paid only when

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THE the whole of the work was completed. At the same time the tavern-keeper presented each man with his bill, reminding him that by Russian law he could not leave the séan, or sub-district, for his home until the money was paid ! The men were completely trapped, and com- pelled to work for pay that even here hardly sufficed to feed themselves and their horses. But even the patience of the Russian peasant has its limits. The Pristaff had learned that Wodzinsky and Schmidt, after spending the evening together at Schmidt's house, had been driving rapidly along the road late at night, when some of the workmen they had victimized, “LUCK” OF THE LOZINSKYS. 48r mented with a curious design in repoussé work, but almost completely flattened and crushed out of shape, as though some enormously heavy weight had fallen upon it. In spite of its wrecked condition, however, a few minutes’ examination revealed on the side which had suffered most a distinct representation of the arms of the Lozinsky family ! Heedless of the long and evidently imaginary story the old pedlar was telling me about the origin of the crumpled mass of bronze, which looked fit for nothing but the rubbish heap, I paid the price he demanded without demur and promptly dismissed him, with orders to return “THE HORSFS BOLTED, SMASHING THE CARRIAGE AGAINST A PILE OF RAILWAY SLEEPERS.” who were waiting for them, suddenly drew a rope across the darkest part of the road. The horses stumbled and then bolted, smashing the carriage against a pile of railway sleepers and killing both the occupants. It seemed from this account of the affair that the death of Wodzinsky could not be in any way connected with the Lozinsky talisman, and, feeling once more completely baffled, I returned home. A few days later, however, I learned that the mascot had really fulfilled the gipsies’ prediction ! One morning I had a visit from a pedlar, a somewhat singular personage, from whom I had more than once bought curiosities which he had picked up in his wanderings in the district. This time he had only a sadly-battered object to offer me, a small bronze coffer which might have been a kind of antique jewel-case, orna- Vol. xviii—61. again upon the morrow. A pair of pincers soon enabled me to remove the silk lining, which was still intact, and beneath it I found the long-lost will ! The gipsies’ prediction had been fulfilled— not, however, by any supernatural means, but, as I was able to learn a few days later, through a perfectly logical sequence of events. The Jew dealer at Gloubokoé admitted that he had sold the coffer to Schmidt, who made him promise not to mention his name, as he suspected it was stolen property. From another source I learned that, thinking it might be the long-lost “ Luck” of the Lozinskys, Schmidt in turn had sold it to Wodzinsky, who he knew claimed the family’s ancestral property. The latter, I also discovered, had driven to Schmidt’s house late in the evening of the day on which he intended to return to Austria, to fetch the

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482 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “mascot,” and it was through this delay that it was already dark when he reached the spot where the enraged workmen were waiting for him. Finally, the pedlar confessed that one of the workmen who had picked up the battered casket after the catastrophe had sold it to him for a trifle, as he was the only person in the vicinity who dealt in old metal, and he in turn had brought it to me, knowing that, if I bought it, I should give a better price than a Jewish dealer. The moment I made the discovery I deter- mined to convey the glad tidings her knees and kissed her feet and the hem of her peasant frock. By this time Panna Ossinsky, the farmer’s wife, had come to pour out her volume of felicitations, and Jan, her husband, stood smiling sheepishly, while I endeavoured to explain to the astounded Stella the wonderful good fortune that had befallen her, handing her at the same time the battered remains of the “Luck” of the Lozinskys. It was late that evening when I took my departure, but before I went Judith drew me aside, and_ taking from the leather myself to the Countess — Stella, and sent word to her faithful gipsy friend to meet me at the farm of the Ossinskys, where she was living. An hour's drive through waste land and a strip of woodland brought me to what had once been a luxuriant forest, but was now only an arid waste, forming a dismal back- ground for the blackened — ruins of a large country mansion. It was Rostovensky, the old home of the Lozinskys, and, pouch, which had so long contained the Countess Jozefa’s letter, the little lock of hair I had given her, she whispered, “You kept your promise faith- fully, Ghospodeen, and now we must destroy the pledge you gave me. It would be dangerous for you to let it exist, and we owe you too much to let you run any further risk. See, Ghospodeen!” she continued, holding it in the flame of the candle, and point- ing to the ashes as though more than thirty years had elapsed since it was burned, it seemed as though the young trees had no heart to grow amid the charred stumps of their predecessors. ‘Then I traversed a few miles more of rich pasture land and forest to the little Rostovensky river, when I had to leave the carriage and cross a foot-bridge. Quickly I made my way to the farm, where I found that Judith had just arrived. A few minutes later the Countess Stella, barefooted and fresh as a flower, her eyes dancing and her golden hair floating in the wind, came running across the field. In a moment Judith had flown out to meet her, and, clasping the be- wildered girl in her arms, covered her face with kisses; then, remembering that she was the Countess Jozefa’s granddaughter, she sank upon THE PEDLAR FROM WHOM THE AUTHOK RECOVERED THE From a Photo. mReRE they fell; “the charm is over, and you are free.” After a few moments’ pause, in which her dark eyes seemed to be gazing into an unknown world, she suddenly grasped my hand and, kissing it fervently, exclaimed, “Take the thanks that come from beyond the grave—from the Countess Jozefa.” As a rule, the procedure in the Austrian courts is far from speedy, but in this case the claim of the only child of the rightful heiress was too clear to be disputed. During the thirty-three years that had elapsed since 1863 the lawyers had, it is true, annexed far more than half the family fortunes, but enough remained to ensure the future comfort of the Countess Stella in her new home in Galicia.

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PT MeGrath of St.Sohn's Newfoundland The little French colony of St. Pierre-Miquelon is known along the whole Atlantic seaboard as ‘‘ The Smuggler's Paradise.” In this paper the author explains the reason for the sobriquet, and shows how widegpread are the ramifications of the nefarious trade which finds employment for so many quick-witted contrabandists and their swift-sailing schooners. ] HE problems arising out of the } recent Anglo-Gallic treaty for the settlement of the French — shore question in Newfoundland invest with a special importance at this juncture the little French colony of St. Pierre- Miquelon, notorious along the whole Atlantic seaboard as “The Smuggler’s Paradise.” Commonly termed “St. Pierre,” from its only town and harbour, the midget province com- prises three islands—St. Pierre, Miquelon, and Langlade—with a total area of about ninety square miles and a population of six thousand five hundred, of whom nearly six thousand live in St. Pierre. It lies a few miles off the south coast of Newfoundland, and was granted to France a hundred and fifty years ago to be used as a shelter for the French fishing fleet that crosses the ocean to trawl for cod on the Newfoundland banks. Since this time St. Pierre has been a source of never-ending friction between the Powers. A recent suggestion, credited to Senator Lodge, that the United States should purchase it as a fishery and naval base, has aroused bitter con- troversy, and elicited an official declaration from the French Cabinet that the archipelago is not for sale. St. Pierre as an international issue has its own features of importance, but they cannot compare with its remarkable record as a contra- bandist emporium. Nominally the head-quarters of the Breton fishermen, it is really the dis- tributing point for thousands of dollars’ worth of valuable commodities illicitly introduced into the neighbouring countries. Opium, perfumes, wines, liqueurs, and other high-class French goods are smuggled into Gloucester, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia by the American fishing vessels on their way home from the Grand Banks; brandies, rum, and merchandise are carried up the St. Lawrence and distributed among the Quebec villages; while tobacco, sugar, food-stuffs, wearables, and fishery outfits are traded with the Newfoundlanders for bait, firewood, or garden stuff, St. Pierre being a barren rock. Were it not that scores of convic- tions and many voluntary confessions—not to mention the activity of the American, Canadian, and Terranovan (Newfoundland) revenue police —attest the magnitude of this traffic, the reader might be pardoned for doubting that it is so extensive, but the commerce of St. Pierre is two hundred and eighty dollars per head, while that of Canada and Newfoundland is but seventy dollars.

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484 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Nature might almost be said to have designed St. Pierre for smuggling purposes, so admirably is it located to conduct the traffic. It lies but a day’s sail from the Banks, where a thousand vessels—French, American, Canadian, and ‘l'er- ranovan—seek for cod, harbouring at times in St. Pierre for needed or illicit supplies. Within sight of it is the Newfoundland coast, where countless creeks and coves are peopled with hardy fisherfolk who regard St. Pierre smuggling as a special dispensation in their behalf. A little farther away is Nova Scotia, with similar facilities and an equal propensity for the busi- ness. Up the St. Lawrence is the Quebec coast, peopled by French Canadians, predis- posed to unlawful trade with St. Pierre because of kinship in race and speech. ‘To the south is the New England seaboard, whose prohibition towns absorb “St. Peter’s rum” in quantities that suggest grave doubts of the efficacy of the temperance law enforcement. The high duties imposed by all these countries upon spirituous liquors is another incentive to the traffic, for champagne that costs five dollars" Se a bottlein New York or Mon- WSS or” treal is obtain; able in St. Pierre | 4 at for a dollar. a Therefore St. rr Pierre is to-day the greatest smuggling centre in the world, with as perfect and comprehen- sive an organiza- tion for conduct- ing this unlawful traffic as that of a modern Trust. There is a regu- lar smuggling syndicate, with head-quarters in the town and agents along the seaboard of the countries it serves; with a fleet of schooners, a code of signals, and a central fund for the conduct of their campaigns. The audacity and extent of the transactions are somewhat staggering. The American Govern- ment was defrauded for years by corn juice, or alcohol, being imported to St. Pierre “in bond” in shiploads, and then, after being concocted into “whisky,” smuggled back into the “down- east” seaports. The Canadian Government was victimized by rum being got in the same way from Demerara, and after being “ doctored ” From a) A TYPICAL SMUGGLING SCHOONER. [Photo. smuggled into Cape Breton and Gaspe. The Newfoundland Government was duped by its coast being made the theatre for shipments of varied stocks, as the lonely seaboard afforded . exceptional opportunities for the distribution of such material. But, not satisfied even with this wide range, the audacity and ingenuity of the Pierrois smugglers were such that they also tricked their own Ministry by bogus claims for bounties on fish bought in Newfoundland. France regards her fisheries in these waters as a naval nursery, and, to foster a large prosecution of thm and secure abundant and suitable material for naval reserves, pays a large bounty upon all fish caught by French vessels. The skippers accord- ingly traded liquor with the Newfoundland fishermen on the Banks for cod, and coolly collected the bounties on this! The same game was further worked by these astute schemers in carrying stocks of fish to Nova Scotia for sale, obtaining certificates from the purchasers that they had bought twice the quantity they actually did, and secur- ing the bonus % - thereon. | These far- reaching frauds were eventually Senge ; discovered ie through the com- a cece ars bined efforts of _ the Newfound- ei land revenue * as chief, Inspector Rielly ; the Ca- Eek nadian Inspec- oe tor Jones; and the French Com- missioner of Customs at St. Pierre, M. Joseph Ferry. The result was a series of captures of smuggling craft—so sudden, so certain, and so complete as to demoralize the ringleaders at St. Pierre. Then, concluding there was a traitor in their midst, they laid traps to locate him, and, finding M. Ferry was the one, they made St. Pierre too hot to hold him. The worst riot in the island’s history was caused by this incident, for in St. Pierre the smuggler’s name is legion. Ferry’s house was wrecked by an infuri- ated mob, and he himself had to seek refuge in the gendarmerie to escape with his life. That night a notice was posted around St. Pierre, heavily bordered in black, inyiting all and sundry

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THE SMUGGLER’S PARADISE. 485 to the “funeral” of M. Ferry, who was to be hanged in effigy at noon next day in front of the Customs House, when the pall-bearers would be Rielly, Jones, Dreyfus, and Zola. And solemnly hanged and burned in effigy Ferry was, at the appointed hour, in the presence of an assemblage of all the able-bodied Pierrois, while Ferry him- self was being carried across to Newfoundland in a tug requisitioned by the Government, who feared that the stout walls of the gendarmerie would be unable to protect him. It is estimated that these frauds cost the French ‘Treasury seventy thousand dollars a year, and what the annual loss to the United States, Canada, and Newfoundland was in those hal- cyon days of the traffic can only be conjectured, but it must have been at least a million dol- lars annually. These figures are startling, but Canada still ad- mits to two hun- dred and fifty thou- sand dollars and Newfoundland fifty thousand — dollars per annum, and the United States still probably loses one hundred thousand dollars per annum. In every harbour that the American fishing vessels visit, from Eastport to Phila- delphia, to sell their cargoes of fish or renew their outfits, they unload quantities of these smuggled goods. Champagnes are put ashore in lobster cases, wines in trawl-tubs, silks in rolled sails, opium and drugs in canisters, and other articles by means of a thousand and one expedients. The invariable practice of the vessels is to enter St. Pierre when homeward bound to procure “wood and water,” and lay in contraband meanwhile. Merchants of St. Pierre, apparently reputable fishery outfitters, have become millionaires and are now living a life of ease and pleasure in Paris on the profits obtained not from their recognised industry, but from smuggling, while handsome fortunes are still realized out of it. In St. Pierre, though the smuggler’s business is growing riskier and less profitable every year, it 1s still one of the mainstays of existence, and From a) parlous would be the state of the place if this traffic were put an end to. Hence the Pierrois are furious against the new treaty, because it provides for a British Consul to be stationed among them, and this will probably be a death- blow to the traffic. Hitherto France has always refused to recognise a Consul there, lest he should learn too much about the waning pros- perity of the little province in consequence of Newfoundland’s enforcement of her Bait Act against St. Pierre ; but when a settlement was being arranged last spring Newfoundland and Canada insisted on this proviso and France gave way. Some years ago Newfoundland sent an official (Photo. to St. Pierre on Consular business, and he had to fly at once to avoid being maimed, if not killed, the shops displaying cartoons of him and angry mobs dogging his footsteps whenever he ventured out. Some time afterwards a defaulter fled there from Newfoundland with several thousand dollars, and two bailiffs were dispatched to procure his arrest. On their arrival, however, a friend of the fugitive whispered it abroad that they were really “ tide-waiters ” seeking evidence against smugglers, and when they incautiously entered a caéaref that night, looking for their quarry, they were set upon and brutally beaten, one having a leg broken and the other getting most of his teeth kicked down his throat. The place is a veritable sanctuary for offenders from all parts of North America, criminals and out- casts flocking there and finding a refuge and anonymity in the different fishing fleets ; and no chief of police along “the Atlantic seaboard

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486 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. would think of trying to get an offender out of St. Pierre. It is a tradition among the Banks fleet that a Boothbay skipper on one occasion, while carry- ing home a liberal stock of “ fire-water” to assuage the burning thirst in that district of “ prohibition,” Maine, found himself suspected by the Customs authorities. That night, to 1902, supposed to be laden with fishery salt. When she broke up, however, there were washed on to the beach many hogsheads of what the coast-folk found, on broaching, to be the rarest of French liqueurs, and enjoyed immensely until the authorities came and impounded the remainder — fifty-five casks containing from eighty to a hundred gallons each. Frou a) effect a safe landing, he set fire to his empty barn, and, while all the inhabitants, including the officials, hurried to the scene, he got his illicit cargo quietly ashore in a sheltered nook. Another skipper—also a suspect—transferred two dory-loads of French cigars to a coasting smack off Boston and then sailed boldly in, while his confederate put the booty ashore after dark, no suspicion attaching to him. But the most daring trick of all was that where a costly consignment of opium and drugs was landed in a rough pine coffin, “knocked up by the crew,” so the skipper glibly explained to the harbour patrol on their boarding her, “for some poor wretch of a sailorman we found off the coast this morning, dead as a herring and lashed to a plank.” An idea of the magnitude of this smuggling may be gained from the fact that St. Pierre maintains a regular fleet of freighter-vessels plying to St. Malo, taking fish ladings to France and bringing back cargues destined to be clandestinely introduced into the neigh- bouring English-speaking countries. One of these vessels, the brig Russée, went ashore near the Needles, Isle of Wight, on Easter Sunday, THE FISHING-FLEET IN ST. PIERRE ROADS. (Photo. Popular feeling largely. neutralizes the work of the coastguards, unless they enlist some retired smuggler to help them by using his knowledge of his erstwhile comrades’ tricks. A celebrated smuggling skipper is now in the Canadian revenue service, and one of the ablest men in the Newfoundland force graduated from the law-breakers’ ranks. ‘The lot of these “turncoats,” as they are termed, is an unenvi- able one, for upon them, rather than upon the regular staff, is vented all the anger of the smugglers. Last summer, for instance, two canoeists, coasting along the shore, had their boat sunk one night by some settlers throwing a hundred-pound stone into her, believing she was a coastguard cutter because the owners flew a Union Jack on her mast, while they themselves were sorely maltreated as they slept. In a New- foundland harbour last year a noted smuggler, seeing a man with a gold band round his cap peering down his hatchway, jumped on deck, caught him round the middle, and flung him overboard, thinking him ® coastguard officer. The hapless stranger was really the captain of an American yacht cruising on the coast and wanting the smuggler_as a pilot !

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THE SMUGGLER’S PARADISE. A big smuggling trade is done along the shores of Quebec Province. It is mainly in intoxicants, and is so widespread that a few years ago the Canadian distillers, from the harm caused to their business, proposed to the Dominion Government to bear the cost of a modern steam-cruiser to patrol the coast there and put down this outlawry. One of the largest depositories of smuggled liquors in those times was near Ste. Anne de Beaupré, a shrine on the St. Lawrence River, visited annually by thousands of pious Catholics. The place was ostensibly for breeding poultry, and the liquor was carted about the country in hen-coops. Another place was a large potato farm; the liquors were stored beneath the cellars, and vended with every sack of the tubers sent out. The Island of Orleans was an equally noted resort because of the facility it afforded for transhipment among the schooners, but now it is being occupied by wealthy Montrealers as a summer resort, and the smugglers have had to move elsewhere. That, however, is easy, for they enjoy the active countenance of the whole coast. The “ Quebecker” thinks this trade no wrong, and the smuggler is a hero to him, while the detec- tive is despised. Every settler, no matter how honest otherwise, is ready to buy smuggled wares, to help the smuggler hard beset, or to financially back a smuggling venture. It is not uncommon for men to club together and import mixed cargoes of spirits and merchandise by a Pierrois craft which lands it in some cove. Then old farmers and fishers going to market will be found with the stuff concealed in their carts and boats, and vending the goods as opportunity offers. All are at it, one to-day and another to- morrow, and hence almost any “habitant” will se- crete goods for a neigh- bour and lie to the coast- guards to throw them off the scent, as it may be his own case to want help another time. The Canadian liquor merchant can place few orders east of Three Rivers, in Quebec, as the whole Gaspe peninsula is supplied by the smugglers, while nearly all the spirits consumed in Cape Breton and Eastern Nova Scotia pays not a cent of duty to the Canadian revenue. From a) A RRVES E CRUISER WITH A CAPLURED FIGENOM SMUGG! 487 Legal dealers dispose of practically no stocks there, owing to the competition of the smugglers. Recently a Canadian cruiser chased a suspicious craft along the coast, and next morning the whole strand was littered with casks of in- toxicants, which the vessel, a St. Pierre smuggler, had thrown overboard, fearing capture, when the cruiser appeared as she was making for her landing-place. A remarkable feature of St. Pierre smug- gling is that the commoner grades of intoxicants are manufactured in the place, notably a cheap brand for the Quebeckers, the base being corn spirit imported in bond from the Middle States. ‘To manage this traffic an official of the United States Consulate at St. Pierre was made an active partner by the smugglers a few years ago. He was provided with bogus Consular seals and papers, and when the alcohol, having reached Boston from Chicago, was loaded into vessels for St. Pierre, they, on arriving off that port, hoisted a private signal, whereupon he came out to them in a tug and supplied them with false bonding clearances for use on returning to Boston, to prove they had properly landed their cargoes. Instead, they made for some prearranged Newfoundland har- bour, where they transferred their cargoes to the ‘ ore [Phote. smugglers’ schooners, which decanted the liquor into eighteen-gallon casks already containing a delectable mixture of rain-water, fusel-oil, drugs, and colouring matter, and in these receptacles the rolling of the ship speedily mixed the con- tents. Next these craft made for the Quebec coast, one of their favourite tricks being to show but part of their canvas or carry two suits of

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488 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. sails, so as to deceive the Canadian cruisers, a smuggler craft displaying a white set to-day, a parti-coloured outfit to-morrow, and a brown spread the next day. Another very successful trick is to have a decoy vessel, which, when a cruiser appears, makes sail hurriedly as if to escape, so that the cruiser follows her and the real offender sails serenely on. These wild-goose chases are com- mon, and are worked in various ways, the genuine capture is made, but the vessels are old and worth but little, and the profits of the traffic allow for occasional losses. Until a few years ago there was an enormous illicit trade between St. Pierre and St. John’s. A man with a handy vessel and _ sufficient audacity could speedily amass a small fortune. He would carry lumber or firewood cargoes to St. Pierre, for the group has no forest growth, and smuggle back enough liquor and merchandise to net him four hun- A GROUP OF PIERROIS FISHER-FOLK—THESE PEOPLE ARE STAUNCH SUPPORTERS OF THE CONTRABANDISTS. From a Photo. superior knowledge of the coast which the smugglers possess, and their utilizing of intricate channels into which the cruisers dare not venture, also materially aiding them. When the scene of the proposed landing is reached signals are displayed, and the agent ashore assembles a crowd of fisherfolk to land the cargo. If anything occurs to imperil success another cove is chosen, or the cargo is sold to the Government. ‘This most ingenious trick consists in notifying a conniving coastguard where the cargo will be landed next night. He is on hand, and seizes it. The liquor is sold subject to duty of one dollar eighty cents per gallon, and as it is usually fifty per cent. over proof this means two dollars eighty-five cents, or, to allow for a bid, three dollars a gallon. The Canadian law gives one-third each to the informer, the seizer, and the revenue, so the former two, in league with the smugglers, pocket two dollars a gallon, leaving the Government but one dollar. Sometimes, of course, a dred to five hundred dollars a trip. The business was ° wide- spread and included members of the Miquelon Assembly and the Newfound- land Legislature. The saloon-keepers at St. John’s were so abundantly stocked with spirits that legitimate imports almost ceased; strange tobacco was vended in all quar- ters and nobody knew how it got there; cigars were of an abundance and cheapness never equalled; and the revenue statistics showed that many ports on the south coast near St. Pierre imported no fishery outfits, and did not contri- bute enough to the revenue annually to pay the cost of the coastguard stationed there. The authorities at last determined to end these scandals, which were so glaring, and in- stituted a vigorous crusade against the traffic. The revelations were astounding and compre- hensive, the veneer of respectability being torn from scores of hitherto reputable members of society. All around the coast the ramifications of the nefarious business were found to exist, and all classes of people were embraced in it. A sexton was discovered to have secreted several casks of liquor in the basement of his church ; an itinerant preacher had a cask of wine buried beneath a green mound, which he said was his mother’s grave ; anda Sunday-school superinten- dent had a lot of vile whisky and worse tobacco concealed in an annexe to his house. Another public man had his stable filled with liquor. A local justice lost his commission for smuggling fishery outfits. Another imported cases of rum

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THE SMUGGLER’S PARADISE. inside flour barrels. All sorts of schemes that had been used to circumvent the coastguards were exposed, and consternation reigned among the offenders, some of whom had to fly the country, others being jailed and still others heavily fined. All classes, creeds, and condi- tions had participated in the illicit traffic, and it was carried on with equal vigour and sublime disregard for the powers that be under the Stars and Stipes, the Tricolour, and the Union Jack alike. The business was conducted in the most bare- faced manner, “St. Peter’s rum,” easily known by the red-painted heads in the casks, being landed in broad daylight in St. John’s and other ‘ports. One man confessed that he had smuggled in a thousand gallons of rum in two seasons. Another boasted of making four thousand three hundred dollars out of this trade in a year. Equally amazing admissions were made by others, until the colony enacted more stringent revenue laws. Since then the smugglers have observed greater caution in their proceedings, and now false bulkheads and secret compartments are provided in smuggling craft, and these are crammed with marketable articles. When a Customs exa- miner suspects a Pierrois vessel to- day he goes through her from truck to keelson, prying into fish casks, boring through bulk- heads, removing her inner skin, and overturning things generally ; and not often is he disappointed. The smuggling that can never be stamped out, of course, is that done by the fish- ing vessels. Sel- dom does one ““7yon al harbour in St. Pierre, no matter what her nationality, but she lays in a stock of commodities for illicit disposal on reaching home. These fishermen declare that St. Pierre has on sale the greatest variety of ardent spirits of any place in the world, from the vilest compounds to the rarest of vintages, Vol. xvii. 62. 489 all of which can be procured by the glass or the hogshead. There are two grades of drinking- houses in the place—auberges and cabarets— frequented respectively by the masses and classes, but when mobs of English-speak- ing Banksmen get ashore they patronize both with marked impartiality, and always resist expulsion at ten p.m., when the law requires these places to shut. So the gendarmes are summoned, and it is a favourite trick of the alien fishers, with their undisguised contempt for “ Froggie,” to pile these gorgeous officials in a heap in the public square and then decamp for their boats. All the intoxicating beverages produced at St. Pierre have a larger percentage of alcohol than have legitimate products, and by the addition of noxious drugs are all the more injurious and harmful to human beings. The stuff demoralizes fishing crews on the Banks—most of the disasters, and they are many, which occur there being due to over- indulgence in these beverages. The Pierrois will leave church in the middle of a sermon to obtain a drink and then nonchalantly stroll back again. AN AMERICAN SCHOONER LOADING AT ST. PIRRRE—MORE OFTEN THAN NOT A QUANTITY OF CONTKARAND 1S HIDDEN AWAY ON BOARD REFORE THE VESSEL SAILS. (Photo. The best-hated man along the Newfoundland shore is the coastguard. One of these being caught by some smugglers on their craft, the skipper ordered him to be thrown overboard, say- ing, “Tie a rock to his feet and finish him.” He was “launched,” but without the rock,

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490 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. yet his fright was such that he sought a new post next day. Another officer who had caught some smugglers in the act was knocked sense- less by them and carried off to a deserted island miles from the coast, where he was marooned for forty-eight hours to meditate on the enormity of his offence in “interfering with decent people who were earning an honest livelihood,” as the Irish schoolmaster’ of the village put it. A hamlets and fraternize with the coast-folk. Then you will hear strange narratives of cargo- running and coastguard-dodging, the veracity of which is beyond question. Few of the fisher- folk but have had more or less adventurous encounters with the preventives as they have slipped into St. Pierre with wood or bait or out again with smuggled goods, the friendly shelter of the blinding fog aiding them to dodge the From a) third, who was on duty on a vessel, was per- suaded by the skipper to take a swig or two from a flask until helplessly drunk, when all her illicit cargo was landed, and he was hoisted up with a block and tackle from her deck to the Government wharf on a Sunday morning, in full view of hundreds of people who had come from different coves to attend church-—an exhibition which cost him his job. Some years ago, when the Newfoundland coastal steamers called at St. Pierre in plying to and fro, a sleuth in the Customs service ventured into the engine-room of one ship, in search of a tank which he had been told the engineers had secreted there to contain smuggled liquor. He manipulated sundry taps without finding out anything, and then he turned one which emitted a jet of live steam that almost scalded him to death. Another detective was notified that a skiff was to land a cargo in a cove, and hastily rowed there. Seeing a suspicious boat which fled at his approach, he chased her for hours, only to find that her cargo was a barrel of fish offal ! In Newfoundland it is not judicious to press inquiries about smuggling, for you may tread on somebody’s corns. To understand the inside workings of the traffic you must visit the fishing CENTRES BY THE SMUGGLERS. (Photo. cruisers through the narrow channels and the rock-strewn inlets along the shore. Their escapes are oftentimes wonderful, but their handy little smacks enable them to give the steamers the slip, and they make into the creeks, unload their contraband, and hurry it to some secure hiding-place in the forests or hills. In the political contests of the colony “St. Peter’s rum” plays a prominent part, and an experienced authority has declared that a cask of it is as good as a thousand dollars of public money. A few years ago a vessel with a supply was seized in a harbour in a district where an appeal to the electorate was in progress, and the coastguard was coolly told: ‘ Don’t you touch that liquor ; it’s more than your job is worth. ‘hat’s for X——’s election.” With the operation of the new treaty, which provides for a joint policing of the fisheries and the prevention of liquor-smuggling into New- foundland, as well as for a British Consul at St. Pierre, the supremacy of the banditti who have carried on this traffic must vanish, and then the business will be the dim and unsubstantial reflection of what it once was—the greatest money-making enterprise along the Atlantic sea- board.

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The Conversion of Dodge City. By H. P. Bal ey. In the early days Dodge City, Kansas, prided itself on its all-round “ toughness.” Thither came a harmless-looking parson, bent on converting its lawless inhabitants to better ways. This amusing story tells by what remarkable means the missionary finally induced the citizens to attend his meetings. WAS recruiting my health on the Eagle Eye Ranch, Wyoming, and had joined a cowboy “outfit,” resting after a hard day’s work at the “round-up.” We were now taking things easy beside the camp-fire. The mouth-organ had failed to charm us, the banjo had been laid aside—owing to a broken string—— and nothing remained to break the monotony but our vocal organs. We called apon “ Old Bill,” a sun-dried individual hiding behind a screen of tobacco smoke, to spin us a yarn, This hero of the rope and branding-iron was, to use his own words, “climbing the hill of fifty-one, and had seen a considerable bit—especially in the early days.” In anticipation of a good story I took out my notebook, and, without observing my action, Bill commenced his narrative. Of course, boys, you’ve all heard of Dodge City, ’way in Kansas, on the old Santa Fe trail ? Well, I was located there once—about twenty- five years ago, I guess. At the time I was waiting there to drive on a big herd of steers to the north-west country when they came in from the south. We did have some hot old times in Dodge City in those days! Talk about law— nobody knew it from a potato, and we cared for it about as much. We were as innocent of Eastern city rules as a papoose with two teeth, and it was just the same with religion. Now that you’ve got an idea of what Dodge City was like, I must tell you that located there at that time was “ Doc” Peddlebury, or “ Fair Play Doc,” as we branded him. He was the toughest man on two legs that ever saw day- light. Some of the boys said he used to belong to the Jesse James gang (a noted band of Western outlaws), and had afterwards taken to cow-punching. Anyways, I’m not certain about that ; but I do know as a sure thing that he was a first-rate hand with a rope, and the quickest I ever saw with a shooting-iron. Every man in Dodge City was afraid of offending him. Mind you, boys, he wasn’t a bad man. If you were going to fight a duel, “ Fair Play Doc” was the sort of fellow to have present—“ No tricks and a decent burial” was his motto. I liked ‘ Doc” myself—most folk simply had to—for if he said anything he always meant it ; he had a reputa- tion that way. As there is a pinch of womenfolk in the yarn, T'll just say that “ Doc” had a daughter as fresh and as pretty as a peach. Well, one day a curly-headed dude, with blue eyes and a parson’s collar, with clothes to match, strolled into Dodge City. He saw “Doc's ” daughter, and began to nibble at love right away. Now this stranger’s name was Cytho Nathaniel Jones —we called him Curly” for short. He was a Britisher, raised in a place called Cardiff. What did he want in Dodge City? He came to rope in the backsliders. He had heard, I guess, that we were a tough lot there, and no doubt reckoned on putting some of us straight. But he could do nothing with the boys there: the Evil One himself was a saint compared to some of them. They used to laugh and tickle him under the chin with an Arkansas toothpick (knife) and play all sorts of daft tricks on him, till at last the quieter boys stopped it. Once Jones told me he was going to clear out, for he reckoned he could do no good. But, somehow, a day or two afterwards I saw him talking to “Doc’s” girl, and he stayed right on. Whether she had anything to do with it or not I don’t know, but I guess she had; womenfolk have awful power in things like that. Well, one afternoon a week or so following this I was in Schreiner’s saloon in Main Street. I went to irrigate myself with a cocktail—I was death on cocktails in those days—and also to see aman who was going to give me some in- formation about when to expect the herd I was waiting for. ‘“ Doc,” with a good few of the boys, was inside ; all of ’em behind cigars and brandy-smashes and playing chuck-a-luck (a dice gambling game). I saw my partner, and he was just telling me that I could reckon on the herd in about four days, when in came the curly-headed parson.

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402 THE WIDE WORLD “ Halloa, Curly!” says “* Doc,” looking up after throwing Ke his dice; “ you’re off your boundary this time ; this place isn’t your meeting- house. What’ll you have ? A ‘rouser’ or a ‘fetch-me-there’ is the real live thing this weather, Curly.” But “Curly” hadn’t a mite of an idea of calling for anything; he just put his hat on a barrel, and said: “ Boys, I have come here to invite you all to my meeting- house. It is well- heated, and you can smoke if you want to. lam giving some special meetings next week, and I'd like you all to come, especially our friend Doc here.” Then “Curly” looked around to see if we were all going to talk at once. But we didn’t. Boys, you could have heard a bit of fluff drop in that saloon after he had finished talking. No man in Dodge City had ever heard a parson talk in a saloon before. We were as dumb as door- knobs, and we felt kind of relieved when “ Fair Play Doc” got his tongue out of his cheek and said: “Curly, my pickle, it ain’t in our line; the game ain’t quick enough, you see. Life is short and the pace is almighty rapid here in Dodge City. You go right away now and round up the little boys and girls.” Then he patted “Curly” on the back as if “Curly” had won a prize at a spelling-bee, and showed him the door. But “Curly” wouldn’t go. He just froze to the spot as if he was waiting for moss to grow on his heels. He stopped right there and argued till some of us began to get cross. The bar-tender, finding nobody was buying drink while “ Curly ” was talking, wanted awful bad to introduce “ Curly” to Mr. Speaker (his revolver), but “Doc” wouldn’t let him. ‘ Doc” told him a Britisher didn’t carry a gun generally, therefore it wasn’t fair to shoot a man who “A DAY OR TWO AFTERWARDS | SAW HIM TALKING TO ‘poc’s’ GIRL.” MAGAZINE. wasn't heeled (armed). Did “ Curly ” look scared when the bar-tender talked about fireworks? Nota mite. He just stood where he was, and looked Jinks the bar-tender up and down as if he was a bundle of rags for sale and wasn’t worth buying. His look surprised us all; he appeared to have considerable grit. I was glad, for I liked “ Curly’s” ways. Well, Jinks, find- ing that “Doc” barred his shooting, said he’d throw “Curly” out of the saloon with his own hands, and called another bar-tender, who reckoned him- self a wrestler, to help make the job easy, They caught hold of him kind of rough and. “Did they hurt him much when they dumped him out?” interposed an anxious cowboy, whose sympathies were with “ Curly.” Why, no, Ben. You see, he put ¢hem out instead! You never saw two skins put outside to dry quicker in all your life. It was an eye- opener to all of us, especially to the bar-tenders, I guess. Were they mad? You bet; as mad as teased hornets. They drew their guns right away; but before they had time to let them speak “Fair Play Doc” had his two revolvers staring ’em in the face. “ Back down, boys,” says he. ‘You're getting wild. You were licked fairly, and serve you right, for you were two to one and Curly said no harm to either of you. Now, put your weapons to bed and come in and look chirpy.” They went behind that bar, boys, like two dogs that had just felt the touch of a number ten shoe behind ’em. “Curly,” says “Doc,” “I am proud to see you so game; but, after all, you see you can’t do any good here. The only way you could get

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THE CONVERSION OF DODGE CITY. 493 ME PUT THEM OUT INSTEAD.” anything into these fellows’ heads, I guess, would be to put it on the nose of a bullet and shoot it in. But then you don’t care to handle weapons in the way of settling little misunder- standings, eh?” “No, Mr. Peddlebury,” says “Curly,” “I have never used a revolver. When I was at college, if I had to fight anybody I just sailed in with my fists. All Englishmen fight that way.” “Pity,” says “Doc,” “for that’s a long way round, ain’t it? Yet there’s fun in a good fist fight, and I But say, now, come to think of it, I’d like to see exactly what you can do with your knobs. How about a match between you and me, say?” “No,” says “ Curly,” “I’m not keen on fight- ing you, Mr. Peddlebury. All I wish is that you will come to my special meetings next week.” “ Hang your special meetings !” says ‘‘ Doc.” “If you want me at the specials, why, then, you'll have to fight for me as if I was ona bargain counter. A thing worth having is a thing worth fighting for.” “Well, Mr. Peddlebury, would you really come if I fought a few rounds with you?” “Why, no, Curly, a few rounds ain’t any- thing; but if you'll fight me till I don’t know my legs from logs, why then I’ll come, and what is more, seeing I’m the biggest man about here, I'll round up and sweep in everything on two legs over sixteen that’s in Dodge City, and get ’em to listen to you. What do you say?” After a bit of thinking “Curly ” said he would fight, and walked out of the saloon, taking with him a great deal more respect than he brought in. We fixed a day for the fight, and sent out some handbills, and fairly Barnumized the town. Then we got all the cow-punchers around to promise that if “ Doc” was beaten they’d attend the “specials.” Next we arranged Glenn’s dancing-hall, in Main Street, suitably for the fight. We fixed the piano ona sort of platform. “ Bar Dot Pete” reckoned he could “ tickle a piano considerable,” so we allowed that while he pawed the ivories folks wouldn’t get tired of waiting for the fight to begin. After that we made a rope ring in the usual way, laid the sawdust, and fixed the seats. Was there a rush on the tickets? You bet ! Folks around there traced a heap of their weak eyes from that morning. )Ten dollars and

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494 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “AFTER A BIT OF THINKING ‘CURLY’ SAID HE WOULD FIGHT.” twenty dollars was the price, except a few seats for which I charged thirty. They were ’way up, giving the best view, but awful shaky ; I charged the extra ten dollars for the extra excitement the occupants would get that way. At last the great day came. I was “Curly’s” second. As the fight was to come off at seven o'clock at night, I moseyed down to the hall in the evening (‘evening ” means afternoon in the West) just to see that the ring, ropes, seats, lights, and general fixings were O.K. I hadn’t been there long before folks began to rush in— I got their dollars first, though—and take seats. By six o’clock you couldn’t have found a spot for even a house-fly to sit on. Everybody seated, I found I was cornered for music ; for “Bar Dot Pete” went and-got himself shot about noon without saying a word about it, and I had depended on him turning up. However, I got “ Music Jack ”—a one-legged fellow—to worry the ivories instead. I forgot to say that a heap of folks were up on the roof. They tore off the shingles and had a fine view that way. I charged them ten dollars apiece for the privilege, though ; except one fellow who fell through into the ring—I charged him thirty for interrupting the music. Seven o'clock came, and into the ring, right on time, stepped “Curly” and “Toc,” both of ‘em stripped to the waist. They were both so fine and nervy-looking that you couldn’t fix on your favourite. “Doc” was a bit ‘the taller, but “Curly ”-was the wider, and his body looked as if it had been put together to stay. They put on two-ounce gloves, and as the clock struck a quarter after seven Bill Yanto, who was referee, called “Time!” Up the two stepped from their corners, shook hands, and shaped for the fight. Just fancy them, boys! I can see them now. Not a sound was heard as “Doc” opened the ball by leading off with a half-swing right. “Curly” ducked it and landed a light one on “Doc’s” ribs, making them rattle a bit. “Curly” then offered with his left and got fairly home on “ Doc’s” nose with his right. This staggered “Doc” a bit, but before he had time to find out what had hit him “Curly” had planted a_ neat little tap on “Doc’s” eye and was away before “Doc” could reply. Then followed a bit of real good close fighting in the middle of the ring, which resulted in one of “ Doc’s” eyes going into’ mourning. The first round ended by “ Doc” giving “ Curly” a full swinger on the chest—like a kick from a mule—which made “Curly” go to the floor. Time was then called. Tid the parson turn up for round number two? You bet he did! Came up smiling big, too. I had rubbed him down, and he was as fresh as a daisy. In round number two there was a good deal of quick, short-handed fighting ; I haven’t seen such quick fighting since. ‘ Curly” dodged, ducked, and peppered “ Doc's” head and face till at the finish it looked as if had been stuck into a bee’s nest. “Doc” tried hard to get in some of his heavies, but “Curly” was away every time. Awful smart on his pegs, was the Britisher; I guess “Doc” had to keep his optics well peeled to find him most of the time. And the way that parson handled his knobs was a lesson in fistics, and no mistake. As most of the rounds were much alike I’ll only mention one or two more that led to developments. In round number five, for instance, “ Curly” struck “ Doc” a blow—well, there, the middle of next week is at your elbow compared to the distance “Curly” knocked

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THE CONVERSION OF DODGE CITY. 495 him to. At the end of that round I began to get a notion how things were going. In the seventh round “Curly” sent “ Doc” to hunt grass twice, which showed pretty plain that “ Doc” was likely to come out at the small end of the trumpet. His legs and arms, too, didn’t seem-to work anyways right. I guess his eyes couldn’t keep track of ’em properly. In the ninth round “ Doc” told his seconds, so I heard afterwards, that his thinking-box had been hammered so much by “Curly” that he didn’t know it from the stump of a tree. In the tenth round “ Doc” had only half of one eye to do business with, and as this bit annoyed “ Curly” considerably he closed it for him by a neat little dandy from his left. “ Doc” stood the round out, and then called in the repairer. His seconds threw up the sponge, and that ended the fight. “Curly ” went up as “Doc” was_ being led from the ring, and felt for “ Doc's” hand and shook it. He then said he hoped he’d see him at his ‘‘specials” next week. “You bet I'll be there,” says ‘ Doc.” “Anyways, that is, if my blinds will be up by then. Say, though, you can handle your knobs good and slick! They must have learned you the tricks well in the Old Country !” “Yes,” says “Curly.” “I took lessons in college ; also lessons with Jem Mace, in Liver- pool. I was always fond of athletics.” Next week “ Fair Play Doc” rounded in everybody to “Curly’s” “specials.” Folks were there that had never been ina meeting-house afore —me for one. Heaps of fellows had come from quite a distance just to see “ Curly ”-—I guess they had seen an account of the fight in the Prasrie How/. And, as far as I can recollect, “Curly” gave us some real bang-up-to-date pointers on religious matters. At the end of the service I gave “Curly” the money which I had taken at the door at Glenn's dancing-hall on the fight-day, and told him it was the wish of the boys that he should have it to do what he liked with. “What became of the parson, Bill? Do you know ?” asked one of the cowboys. “Yes,” said Bill. “I heard a year or two later, when I was’way in Colorado, that ‘Curly’ married ‘Fair Play Doc’s’ girl soon after the ‘specials.’ About a year afterwards they went to Texas to start ranching, taking ‘ Doc’ atong to tend the baby. about them since.” I’ve not heard anything “(1 CLOSED IT FOR HIM bY A NEAT LITTLE DANDY FROM HIS LEFT.”

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. By Captain F. A. Dickinson. A chatty description of the author’s journeyings in the interior of British East Africa, the ‘‘ Sports- man’s Paradise,” the home of countless species of big game, and also of the warlike Masai and Nandi, trouble with whom took Captain Dickinson on many of his patrols. ARRIVED at my destination on my birthday, so it was an occasion } of rejoicing for me, the more so | because I had finished a lonely march through the wilderness and had reached the abode of my friends. The camp was pitched in an open glade on a bend of the Guaso Nyiro River, which runs into a soda lake some ten miles away in German territory. ‘Tents had been discarded long ago, both on account of the heat and also in order that they should not be worn out with un- necessary use. Instead we built ourselves large and airy houses of grass, thatched on a big framework of poles. The houses were some sixteen feet high, topped with a long ridge-pole, and about thirty feet long, thus giving plenty of space for a bedroom and sitting-room in one, and ample accommodation for one’s boxes of food, general baggage, and trophies of the chase. The huts were open at both ends, to allow of a free passage of air right through. My domicile is shown in the accompanying photograph. The strange white erection in the foreground is the huge mosquito curtain under which I slept and dined. ‘lhe winged pests appeared regularly at sundown, and kept up their maddening music till next morning. There was no getting away from them. This was a splendid shooting centre, the country simply swarming with antelopes of ‘various species, buffalo, giraffe, rhinoceros, and THE AUTHOR'S CAMP NEAR THE GUASO NVIKO— THE WHITE EKRCTION TO THE RIGHT IS THE MOSQUITO CURTAIN UNDER WHICH HE SLEPT AND DINED. From a Photo. partridges. After one has fed on venison for a time a bird is a great relief to the tough steaks and iegs, however nicely they may be disguised by a good cook. Wandering about the other side of the river one evening in search of something succulent for the pot, I chanced upon an old village built

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. 497 the infinite trouble to build himself houses perched upon long poles or stilts. The mosquito finds its home close to the ground in the grass, so that a house raised fifteen feet or so is almost immune from its attacks. The Wanderobo, by the way, are the poorest of the poor. If they are met in the forest on the march, their worldly possessions and stock -in- trade are interesting. They seldom wear even the conven- , tional fig-leaf. They / are armed with a bow and some twenty arrows, and _ usually carry a bit of rag carefully tied up, which contains some strips of bark which they use for medicinal purposes, somewhat in the same way as we use quinine. They possess hardly any sheep or cattle, A VILLAGE ON STILTS — THE HOUSES WERE YERCHED ON POLES TO PROTECT THEIR INMATES FROM THE MOSQUITOES From a Photo. by the Wanderobo — the hunting tribe of East Africa. They are extremely shy and what they have are very of the white man, and although never hostile carefully herded and looked after, being their they seem nervous of having much to do with most valuable commodity. In a country where him. Small settlements of this peculiar race of a sheep costs six or seven shillings they would aborigines may be found in the gloomy depths of almost any large forest in this part of the world. The village — shown in the above picture—consisted of a big circular zareba of thorn bushes, high and strong enough to pre- vent a lion from breaking through and stealing any of their stock. Inside the space was divided into different little “corrals,” some containing tiny round houses of sticks and leaves, others for sheep, goats, and cattle. This village was peculiar of its kind, as, owing to the mosquitoes being so troublesome, the savage in this district has taken Vol, xvii.—63. TWO HALF-STARVED WANDEROBO HUNTERS AT DINNER, QUITE UNCONSCIOUS THAT THEY WEKE BEING PHOTOGRAPHED, from a Photo;

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498 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. infinitely prefer a present of two or three sheep to the same number of sovereigns. I was lucky enough to secure two Wanderobo hunters, who accompanied me everywhere, and most useful they were. They were half starved when I first met them, so their hearts were won at once by the gift of some ribs of a rhinoceros which had just been killed. They said nothing, but took out their knives and devoured the flesh raw on the spot, seizing a bit of meat in their teeth and pulling at it, hacking the while at the bone with their knives. My men went into fits of laughter when they saw the unconscious hunters, too busy with their bones to notice my action, being transferred to the “ picture box.” After having enjoyed the shooting round the Guaso Nyiro for the best part of a month, the time came for us to shift our camp some forty miles away over a waterless desert to a range of hills that could be made out in the dim distance. As luck would have it, however, the rains had just set in, so we were by no means hard pressed for water at any time. In fact, at one place we had a little too much, and got a good bath into the bargain. The volcanic nature of the country in the Great Rift Valley causes it to be broken up here and there into vast cracks and deep chasms. We were marching along one of these gorges one morning on the sandy bed of a dried-up torrent. The sides were precipitous — composed of solid rock —where rabbits scuttled about from crevice to crevice. Hardly any vegetation was to be seen, except perhaps a few castor-oil plants, which seem to flourish in the barren rock with- out water in any shape or form. At last we From a) WARDLY HAD THE PICTURE WHEN HE AND HIS MEN WERE SWEPT. AWAY BY A RAGING SUDDEN STORM. came to a narrow opening in the gorge where the rock was too hard to have been worn with the rush of raging water. A small stream trickled through it, with some bushes on the hill- side behind. Here it struck me to group my orderlies, as the scene would make a pretty picture. I had taken the photograph here reproduced when we heard a low rumble. Mystified, I asked my companions what it was, and they said it was probably thunder. Just at that moment, round a corner behind us came a moving wall of dirty-brown water. I had barely time to throw the camera into the branches of a thorn bush when that liquid avalanche was upon us. To show how deep it was and the pace at which the water was travelling, | may state that it caught me high up on the chest, and be- fore I had time to think we were all swept off our feet and carried helplessly along with it. We went for some distance before a slight uneven- ness of the rocks allowed us to scramble up, when, to my joy, I found that my orderlies, al- though badly scared, had not let go of my rifles or any- thing. It would have been some- what excusable . if they had, for the Masai can- not bear run- ning water, and are in reality rather afraid of it. In due course we arrived at our destination, Lanjoro rowwesr causep ny a Dis. Our camp was formed \*4e% on the top of a flat spur stick- ing out of the hill, covered with shady, flat-topped thorn trees, and affording a beautiful view of hill and dale. All around us were lower peaks of the same range, thickly covered with grass and shrubs, with thorn trees poking their heads up at intervals. Towards the south, through a gap in one chain of hills, AUTHOR TAKEN THIS

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IN UNTRODDEN PATHS. we could see in the far distance Arusia Moun- tain, in German territory, the pointed peak of which is snow-clad at this time of the year. Some ten miles away stretched Lake Natron, a soda lake, also belonging to our Teuton neigh- bours. These lakes, I should explain, are of volcanic origin. On approaching them a thick white scum is seen on the surface of the- water, which, if skimmed off and allowed to dry, becomes some sort of crude soda. In the course —>=> THE CAMP AT LANJORO DIS. of four or five days the scum collects again and the same process is repeated. The lakes smell horribly, and are fed by underground springs, besides the hot ones which trickle into them from the banks. The camp itself was composed of the same sort of grass huts as we had just left behind us in the heat of the Guaso Nyiro. Now, however, there were “the rains” to contend with, and a nasty wind blowing, added to which we were some two thousand feet higher up. Something had to be done to augment creature comforts, and at last a bright spirit suggested that an empty kerosene oil tin, if it had holes punched haphazard all round it, would make a splendid extempore stove, provided the wood was cut small enough and the sparks did not fire the grass roof. The idea was at once vociferously 499 applauded, with the result that many a chilly winter’s night has since been enlivened with the genial warmth of that primitive stove. The first night in the new camp was duly celebrated, the results of a buffalo hunt a few days previously providing the wherewithal. I will describe that day’s sport before proceeding farther. Buffalo there were in swarms on the Guaso Nyiro, but, try as we would, we could not get =1 (Photo. anywhere near enough to them to warrant a shot. We had tried our hardest and almost despaired of success till one evening, returning to camp by way of the Wanderobo village previously mentioned, it suddenly struck my friend that if we built perches similar to those in the village and sat on the top, a morning’s buffalo driving might prove ex- cellent sport. No sooner said than done. Next day we marched to German territory on Lake Natron and all hands were turned on to construct the necessary perches, two in number. They proved somewhat shaky, but so long as nothing heavy hit them hard at the bottom they might be considered strong enough to bear our weights. A day or two having been permitted to elapse to allow the smell of man to dis-

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500 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. THIS PICTURE SHOWS THE KIND OF COUNTRY IN WHICH THE BUFFALO HUNT TOOK PLACE, From a Photo. appear, my friend and I took up our posts, each on our own perch. After a short time a crashing and waving of bushes and long grass conveyed to us the news that something large and pre- sumably fierce was coming our way, and presently a small herd of five buffalo dashed out of the scrub, ap- proaching my own particular perch at agallop. Bang! bang! went the rifle. “Hit him hard, I think,” I told myself as I reloaded. “Now he’s down-—broken his near fore-leg. I'll give him one more in case he gets off.” Bang! There he lay dead, while I was still safe and sound on my perch. It struck me as being advisable to wait a little longer in case any more buffalo appeared, and it was most lucky I decided to do so, for after a few minutes had elapsed two or three more tushed out. These were cows, and so their lives were spared. In another ten minutes a crashing to my left told me that something else was breaking cover in the direction of my friend, who up to this time had been watching me shooting, and silently cursing his luck. A quick shot or two from him showed me that there was game in front of him right enough, and buffalo, too, as we had agreed not to fire unless these appeared. A shot soon after proclaimed his success, and, being convinced that nothing more would come out of the scrub jungle, we got down to gloat over the spoil and compare notes. My _ friend’s buffalo we had to follow for a dis- tance into a swamp. This was a tangled- tract of long reeds, eighteen feet high in places, interwoven with convolvulus and other similar creepers till a more or less compact mass of vegetation had been formed, through which I would defy any animal weigh- ing less than a ton to make his way. Added to this the ground one walked on was sticky mud, under a foot of water, When one takes all these facts into consideration, and remembers that the buffalo paths we painfully plodded along were thoroughly well churned up From a Photo.

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IN UNTRODDEN by the animals’ feet and rendered very much more sticky than usual, one may gather that it is no place for the unwary to set foot in. A buffalo apiece, after working for one hour only for them in the morning, constituted a first-rate day’s spoil. Now came the cutting up of the brute. A messenger was at once dispatched to camp to merely mention the magic word “meat” to the porters, who, on hearing it, could be depended upon to troop out to a man, bringing with them poles to load the legs and skin on, and so convey them to camp. The animal was photographed with “ Master ” beside him as the hero of the moment. He was measured, turned over and over, duly admired, and I don’t know what wasn’t done to him. Then the skinning process began, and before it was half over a vayue hum in the distance betokened the arrival of the excited porters. The truth of the dld adage anent “too many cooks” at once began to make itself manifest, but eventually things quieted down, and as soon as the artists had dismembered the carcass the joints were dispatched to camp, each under the guard of some _ responsible person—a very necessary precaution. (am PATHS. 50r Shortly after this hunt I had the good luck to obtain some excellent photographs—one of which is here shown—of Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in the African continent, nineteen thousand two hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the sea. It boasts two peaks covered with perpetual snow ; the higher is known as Kibo, and the lower and smaller is called Kibawanzi. Both peaks are in German territory, the frontier running round the base of both. Kilimanjaro means in Masai “The Mountain of the Great Spirit.” The forests about its flanks swarm with elephant, buffalo, and rhinoceros, as well as with the pretty black and white, long-haired colobus monkey, whilst over the plains at its feet are dotted innumerable herds of antelope and gazelle, from the lordly eland to the diminutive dik-dik. Ostriches may be seen scudding before the wind with all sail set, and the guinea-fowl and homely partridge provide tasty delicacies for the pot. I may add in conclusion that it will well repay any leisured reader of THE WipE WorLD to visit East Africa for a shooting or even a sight-seeing holiday. To such travellers I wish the best of luck ; may they have as good a time there as I did! aia \ 4 A DISTANT VIEW OF KILIMANJARO, THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN IN AFRICA—ITS PEAKS (Photo. From a) ARE COVERED WITH PERPETUAL SNOW.

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My Adventure in Germany. By A. J. Wittiams, M.A., PROFESSOR OF CLAssics, OXFORD. The amazing experience that befell an English tutor in Germany. An act of courtesy to a lady in distress landed him in a most unpleasant predicament, the upshot of which was that he found himself under arrest, charged with a dastardly murder. URING the last Long Vacation I decided to travel through Germany, so, leaving London on the roth of July, I went to Cologne, and then continued my journey to Bingen, little thinking I should have to remain there a far longer period than I intended, and pass through a terrible experience that was certainly not included in my programme when I left England. After spending a few days at the principal hotel at Bingen I hired a carriage and pair of horses from the landlord in order to drive to a small town about eighteen miles distant. I “1 TOOK THE LIBERTY OF ADDRESSING HER.” took my camera with me, as I heard there were a number of quaint old buildings in the neigh- bourhood. I also wanted to photograph some of the German peasantry and their cottages, and, if possible, take one or two views of Holzberg Castle, the residence of the Baron and Baroness von Wildenheim.* When I first planned the expedition 1 meant to start early in the morning and return to Bingen the same evening ; something, however, occurred to prevent my leaving as soon as | intended, so I told the landlord I should not be back till the following day. Then off I went, little dreaming what was before me. After I had travelled about twelve miles one of the horses shied at an object by the roadside and I at once pulled up, curious to see what it was. To my great surprise I saw that a lady was sitting there in a somewhat dishevelled con- dition. This was so very unusual that I took the liberty of address- ing her. I found out she was the Baroness von Wildenheim, who lived at Holzberg, the very place I was anxious to photograph. Her horse had thrown her and galloped away, she said. Taking advantage of the Baron’s absence she had ridden somewhere on private _busi- ness (as I after- wards discovered), and for this reason none of the grooms were in attendance. It was now about half-past five, and the Baroness was very anxious to return home. There was only one course open to me—I offered to drive her back to Holzberg. * I wish to state here that, at the request of the surviving relatives, L have given fictitious names both to the family and their castle.— Tue AutHor,

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MY ADVENTURE IN GERMANY. 503 From a Photo. When we arrived there, as it was now late, she begged me to accept the hospitality of the castle till the morning, and I was not sorry to avail myself of the invitation. It would be an excellent way, I thought, of carrying out my plan, and already I pictured myself busily engaged on the following day with the camera, taking photographs of the castle and its interest- ing surroundings. The horses were led to the stables, and one of the servants conducted me to a bedroom, hung with blue tapestry, toarrange my toilet ; I was then ushered to the dining - room, where a sumptuous repast awaited me. Everything about the castle was on a grand and imposing scale, clearly be- tokening the great wealth of the owner. In the entrance-hall was a fine collection of armour, as well as a number of ancient and modern weapons of almost every de- scription. ‘The furni- ture, plate, and pic- tures were magnifi- cent, while the dinner was a_verit- able banquet. The Baroness sat in state at the head of the table, and began by making apologies rt Sa THE HOTEL AT BINGEN FROM WHICH THE AUTHOR SET OUT ON HIS EVES for her husband’s absence —he had gone to Berlin, she said, on important business, and was not ex- pected to return for a few days longer. There was, however, an elderly lady present, the Baroness von Leidenburg, who was dis- tantly related to my hostess, and filled the 7é/e of chaperon effectively. I ought, perhaps, to men- tion that I am well acquainted with German, and therefore was able to converse fluently with the two ladies in their own language. ‘This was a for- tunate circumstance, as their knowledge of Eng- lish was extremely limited and most elementary in character. When dinner was over we retired to the drawing-room, where the Baroness entertained me by singing some very pretty German songs, accompanying herself on the piano while doing so. She then gave me an interesting account of Holzberg, and promised me every facility for taking as many photographs as I pleased in the morning. At eleven o'clock a servant, wearing a rich and handsome livery, came in, carrying a lighted candle. He was, I presumed, the chief NTFUL KIDE. “SHE GAVE ME AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF HOLZBERG.”

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504 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. steward or seneschal of the establishment. I took the servant’s entry as a signal to retire, so I bade the ladies good-night and followed my attendant to the same bedroom as before. He gravely informed me I was occupying the Blue Chamber, an apartment reserved for distin- guished guests and particular friends of the family. Then he left me to myself. I was soon in bed and asleep, but was awakened about two o'clock in the morning by the sound of a man’s voice at no great distance. He was talking to someone in a loud, excited manner, and presently I heard him walking along the corridor that led to my chamber. “This is the third time you’ve refused to sign that document, madam!” he exclaimed, in a towering passion, ‘“‘and so I decline to have anything inore to do with you. What right has a married woman to keep an estate in her own name during her husband’s lifetime? You ought to be ashamed of yourself to show such a want of confidence in me! I shall take up my quarters in the Blue Chamber till you come to your senses. And please to remember from this dav forward we are just as complete strangers to one another as though I had never seen you.” Then the footsteps came nearer and nearer, and I guessed at once that the Baron had returned unexpectedly to the castle in a towering rage. Moreover, he had just expressed his intention of occu- pying my bedroom. “This is awkward,” I reflected. “In his present humour I don’t want to meet him; he would pro- bably tell me to fol- low him to the garden and fight a duel, or his grooms would be ordered to drag me downstairs and_ kick me off the premises. The sooner I leave the castle and return to Bingen, the better for me.” With this intention I jumped out of bed and bur- riedly began to dress myself. Before my toilet was com- pleted, however, I heard someone at the door. LDis- “"WHAT ABOUT THIS CLOTHING?’ HE OBSERVED.” this fact cretion was certainly the better part of valour ; so, throwing my hat, coat, and boots underneath the bed, I concealed myself in a cupboard, and with my eye to the keyhole awaited the course of events with the greatest anxiety. Hardly had I settled down than the Baron came in and lighted the candle, and I soon gathered from what he was saying that the presence of a stranger had been discovered. Rushing out of the room he went, I suppose, to question his wife on the subject, for he came back a few minutes later bringing her, or rather dragging her forcibly, into the apartment. “Now, madam, what's the meaning of this?” he exclaimed, savagely. “ You’ve been enter- taining someone during my absence, and you'll have to inform me who it is.” The Baroness paused before making a reply. She was looking round the room, perhaps to assure herself that I had made my escape. “You're mistaken, Heinrich,” she said, pre- sently. ‘No one has been here—one of the servants must have turned down the bed-clothes. There's nothing very strange about that, surely!” “No, perhaps not,” he continued, — sar- castically; “and of course there’s no- thing unusual about these things, either ?” I at once guessed that he had found my belongings, and was holding them up in triumph as evidence against her. This conjecture was correct, as I soon discovered from his next question. “What about this clothing?” he observed. “ Look at this coat and hat; they are not part of your wardrobe, are they, nor the boots either? I’ve detec- ted you at last, madam, and now I demand an explana- tion.” The Baroness, as already stated, had gone out riding that afternoon in order to attend to some private business, and probably

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MY ADVENTURE IN GERMANY. 505 made her unwilling to confess anything about meeting me on the road and my driving her back to Holzberg. She preferred to keep silent, standing there as mute as a statue, without offering to defend herself. “ Have you nothing to say, madam ?” shouted the enraged nobleman, impatiently, ‘‘ Well, I'll bring you to your senses somehow.” So saying, he flung furiously out of the room, locking the door behind him. The moment I heard his retreating footsteps I opened the cupboard and came out, taking the Baroness completely by surprise. As soon as she discovered who I was she tearfully implored me to leave Holzberg while I still had the chance of doing so safely. circumstances compel me to ask you to take your departure in so sudden and unusual a manner. Will you accept this ring?” she added, drawing one from her finger and handing it to me. ‘It may help to remind you of this strange adventure, and recall to your memory your sincere friend and well-wisher, the Baroness von Wildenheim.” I took the ring, expressing my thanks at the same time, wished her good-bye, and hurried to the window, which, now that the door was - locked, was the only means of exit. “Make haste!” she exclaimed, excitedly ; “my husband may be back at any moment! I don’t know what will happen if he sees you!” I lost no time in “Let me stay and protect you, madam,” I suggested. ‘You will pardon me, I know, for interfering between hus- band and wife, but the Baron’s a contemptible coward to have spoken to you as he has done.” “You can’t stay here,” she rejoined. “That is out of the question al- together. At the same time, sir, I am very grateful for your offer of assistance. My husband suspects something already, and what would he say if he came back and caught you? I’m sure you have no wish to compromise me, and so I beg and beseech you to leave me.” “Before I do so,” I continued, as I put on my coat and boots, “may I inquire the cause of the quarrel between you? I hope you won't think me inquisitive, but I’d like to be sure that you're not in any danger. We Englishmen, you know, don’t allow husbands to beat and bully their wives if we can help it.” “The Baron wants me to give him an estate that my uncle left me,” she replied, “and I won’t consent to it. I went privately to visit the tenants this afternoon and told them I had no intention of making it over, and that they mustn’t believe any rumours they heard to the contrary. It was later than I expected when I left them, and before reaching home my horse shied and threw me, and then galloped away. A few minutes afterwards you drove up and offered to assist me, and I am only sorry that Vol. xvii.—64. THE AUTHOR, MR. A. J. WILLIAMS, M.A. From a Photo. taking my departure—I stood not upon the order of my going, but went. In other words, I got through the window as quickly as possible, to find myself on a parapet that formed a pathway about three feet wide, extending, as I conjec- tured, all the way round the building. But my great anxiety to perform the vanishing trick be- fore the infuriated Baron’s reappearance caused me to hit my nose violently against the window-sill, making it bleed profusely. I suppose the state of ex- citement I was in had sent an extra quantity of blood to my head, and I was now getting rid of it—at any rate, I never remember it bleeding to such an extent before. I had no time, however, to pay much atten- tion to trifles like this. I walked on, trying to devise some means or other for reaching ferra firma, for the Blue Chamber was situated on the first storey, and the parapet, roughly speaking, was at least thirty feet from the ground. At last I let myself down by means of the ivy that grew thickly matted on the walls ; there was not much difficulty in descending, and I soon managed to reach the garden in safety. As I passed the windows of the dining-hall I happened to look in, and saw someone, whom I took to be the Baron, filling a goblet with ~ wine ; then, raising it to his lips, he drank more than half the contents before replacing it on the table. I was deeply concerned for the ——s1)

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506 THE WIDE- WORLD MAGAZINE. Baroness when I noticed this, as her husband was evidently trying to forget his supposed wrongs by over-indulgence in liquor. My presence and interference, however, would only accomplish more harm than good, so I walked on till I came to the small postern gate, which was, fortunately, open. I stopped here for a moment to collect my thoughts, and then remembered that I had left a razor behind me on the dressing-table. I had bought it at Bingen that morning and got the shopkeeper to engrave my name on the handle while I waited ; then I slip- ped it in my pocket and thought no more about it till I found it in my coat when I began undressing in the Blue Chamber. What an oversight, to be sure! The Baron would see my name and be able to trace me; there would be no difficulty in discovering my where- abouts, and I came to the conclusion that the sooner I left Germany and _ re- turned to England the better. There was another thing, too, to be con- sidered—the hired carriage and horses were still in the stable, i = A. ; ' and I couldn't possibly get them! I should have to walk back to Bingen and tell the landlord where they were, though I certainly intended to leave the city before he sent to fetch them. Cogitating thus, I passed through the postern gate and com- menced my journey, but before I had proceeded far a strange dizziness came over me. It was caused, I suppose, by loss of blood, as well as the great excitement under which I was labour- ing. Presently my strength failed me, and I fell to the ground unconscious. When I came to myself it was broad daylight, and someone was standing beside me. In the middle of the road were the carriage and horses “*you'p BETTER GET UP,’ SAID THR INDIVIDUAL WHO HAD BEEN WATCHING ME." that I had left at the castle, with a man in police uniform looking after them. “You'd better get up,” said the individual who had been watching me; “we're waiting to take you to Bingen. If you don’t come quietly it'll be the worse for you. You ave a cool hand, to be sure, lying down and going to sleep so close to the scene of the tragedy, with the stains of blood still on your face and clothing.” “What tragedy?” I inquired, rising to my feet. “I’m aware that my nose has been bleed- ing pretty freely, but you don’t call that a tragedy, do you? I call it an accident.” “That’s a very likely story,” he observed, sarcas- tically. “It hap- pened in the Blue Chamber at Holz- berg, didn’t it? You were staying there last night, and Icft rather suddenly this morning.” “Yes, that’s correct; and I hurt myself get- ting through the window.” “What were you doing at the castle?” he in- quired. “And why were you getting through the window?” “T decline to answer you,” I replied, ‘‘ unless I have leave from the Baroness von Wildenheim to do so.” “Teave from the Baroness! Well, you Englishmen do brazen it out, and no mistake!” he continued. “You're not aware that she’s had her throat cut, are you? ~The news takes you by surprise, doesn’t it? At any rate, I’m a detective officer, and I’m going to arrest you for the murder!” I had never been in trouble before, but still I had sense enough to know that in a case of this kind silence is golden; so I made no reply to this astounding charge, for fear that if I said anything it might be brought against me as

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MY ADVENTURE IN evidence afterwards. The detective was very angry at my refusing to give him the particulars. He ordéred me to be handcuffed and put into the carriage, and in this ignominious manner I was brought before the magistrate and heard for the first time a full account of the tragedy. It appeared that one of the servants at the castle had been GERMANY. 507 Then the landlord of the hotel came forward and identified the carriage and horses as his property. I had hired them from him, and informed him I intended to return on the fol- lowing day. Finally, when the ring that the Baroness had given me was produced, it at wakened during the night, or very early in the morning, by an unusual noise proceeding from the Blue Chamber. Someone was evidently quarrelling with his mistress. ‘Then followed shriek after shriek, intermingled with pas- sionate appeals for mercy, so he hurried to the door and tried to open it. It resisted his efforts for a while, but at last he was successful. On entering the room he saw the Baroness lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She was quite dead, her throat having been cut from ear to ear, and an open razor was close beside her. He would not positively swear that the person who was quarrelling with deceased was his master ; for the voice, though some- what resembling the Baron’s, was not exactly the same, and so he declined to commit him- self. Then the head steward was called, and identified me as the strange Englishman who returned to Holzberg in com- pany with his late mistress. He stated that the Blue Chamber was prepared for and si Paseess ! Lawhele, Feb: 218t.1900. I, Alfred James Williams, of 30 Little Claren- don Street, in the city of Oxford, hereby make oath ay: That the story entitled "My Adventure in Germany is founded on an incident that occurred in my own experience while travelling in Ger- i many during July 1905, and that the said story is true and correct in every vartioular. A faumnerrimss ff Alte my reception by her instruc- tions, and that he_ himself conducted me there at eleven o'clock. The Baroness von Leidenburg also gave evidence that I dined at the castle on the evening in question, and deceased told her I was going to stay till the following morning. Her own apartments, however, were situated at some distance from the Blue Chamber, and she was not aware that a tragedy had occurred till one of the servants came and informed her. In the next place I was proved to be the owner of the razor by the shopkeeper at Bingen, who said that the name was engraved on the handle in accordance with my instructions. A swor' N STATEMENT, SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR, VOUCHING FOR THE TRUTH OF HIS STORY. once suggested the idea that my motive in murdering the unfortunate lady had been robbery. I was asked if I had anything to say, so I took the opportunity of explaining the circum- stances under which I had first met the Baroness. _I referred to the predicament she was placed in, and my offer to drive her back to the castle, which was gratefully accepted, and stated that owing to the lateness of the hour she had asked me to stay till the morning, the room known as the Blue Chamber being placed at

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508 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. my disposal. There was nothing sensational in my story so far; but when I mentioned that the Baron had returned to Holzberg during the night and had quarrelled with his wife about the signing of a document, I noticed that everyone present began to listen with increased attention. I went on to say I had heard him express his resolve to occupy the Blue Chamber and have nothing more to do with her, where- upon I jumped out of bed and concealed myself in the cupboard. Shortly afterwards he brought her to the room, locked the door, and made her a prisoner. Then I left my hiding-place ; and after a short interview with the Baroness, at which she presented me with the ring, I made my escape through the window, but in so doing I hit my nose against the woodwork, causing it to bleed profusely. The steward was then recalled, and askei if it . was possible for the Baron to come to the castle without the knowledge of any of the servants. He replied that it certainly was possible, but he did not consider it at all probable ; his master had gone to Berlin five days previously, and was not expected to return for a fortnight. ‘The man, however, admitted that the Baron fre- quently came to Holzberg unexpectedly and left by way of the postern gate, the key of which was always in his possession ; it was, therefore, quite possible for him to have been at home on the night in question. The case was remanded for further inquiries, but luckily for me the Baron confessed a few days later to having himself committed the murder. It appeared that after he had locked the Baroness up in the Blue Chamber he went to the dining-hall and began drinking—-you will remember that I told you I saw him there. He was usually abstemious, but became so enraged at finding that someone had been staying at Holzberg during his absence that he tried to forget his troubles in the flow- ing bowl. To use plain English, he got horribly drunk, and entirely lost control of his actions. Returning to the Blue Chamber, he taunted the Baroness about her sup- posed lover, and finally, seeing the razor on the dressing - table, he took it up and, in the height of his frenzy, inflicted injuries upon the hapless lady that proved fatal. When the awful deed was done he hurried from the castle and went to Bingen, and from there proceeded to Berlin. He intended, of course, to leave Germany as soon as possible ; but a fever, brought on by excessive drinking, over- took him, and he was, ere long, pronounced to be in a dying condition. He made the confession a few hours previous to his death, in the presence of a magistrate, with the gratifying result that I regained my liberty. I lost no time, I can assure you, in returning to England. The ring and that fatal razor were never restored to me by the German police, but I need no souvenirs to remind me of that eventful holiday.

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A DOCTOR IN THE BUSH. By Epwarp Yeates, F.R.C.S.L, L.R.C.P.L, Ete. The life of a doctor in the Australian back-blocks is very different to that of his fellow-practitioners in more settled districts. Dr. Yeates here describes in amusing fashion a number of adventures— interesting and exciting—which fell to his lot as a ‘‘new chum” medico in the bush. MAST distances, sparse population, scarcity of water—or, in the rainy seasons, a deal too much of it— thick scrubs, boundless plains, and wild mountain ranges, all help to Ging about “adventures by flood and field” for the bush doctor. Sometimes these ex- periences are of a truly perilous nature, but very often, on the other hand, they have a ludicrous aspect. ‘ I shall never forget being sent-.for from_a station called Otamildi. A young. and, for yp Australian aboriginal, good-looking black felléw brought in the message, which read :— “ DEAR Doctor,—Come out at once and see my baby boy ; he is a little horse.” This looked serious, didn’t it? Iwas soon ready for the road, and saddled up atittle grey called Basil, a good ona to go, but the vonly II. bush horse I ever rode which wa$'a fool in the | bush and had no idea of locality. We had some twenty-five miles to ride, so the black boy proposed taking a short cut through a tract of country known as Toolumba scrub, which would save us five, miles. I agreed, and he led me through ¢he,scrub along a narrow path, winding hither,’and thither. There was only room for one to pass at a time, and to keep from being pulled off my horse by the creepers and interlaced branches I had to bend my body and keep my head alongside his neck. So dense was the growth that the sun, which was shining brightly, could scarcely pene- trate. Mile after mile we threaded our way, till at last, to my great relief, we emerged into the open bush and gaily cantered the rest of the way to Otamildi. I found my little patient bore no resemblance to a “horse” at all, but was suffering from a nasty feverish cold. I spent the night at the homestead, and started home fairly early next day. When bidding adieu to the station manager I mentioned my intention of returning va Toolumba scrub. “Don’t you try it, doc,” he advised. “No one but an old bush hand or a black fellow would ever find the track through that scrub.” . impenetrable labyrinth. “ing thing “Faith, I'll try,” I said, laughing. “1 don’t like to be beaten.” And away I rode. The first half-mile or so after entering the scrub was not so bad, for it was not very dense and the track was visible now and then. After an hour’s difficult riding, however, I found myself hopelessly lost in a thick and apparently The curious and alarm- was that I could not make out where I had entered! Finally I had to get down off my horse and peer about for an exit. To make matters worse, a terrific thunderstorm, accompanied by tropical rain, came on, Good- ness, how it poured! Being thoroughly tired out, I sat down under my horse’s belly for shelter, and vainly tried to get a smoke, but my tobacco was wet and wouldn't light, so I was compelled to sit there doing nothing and feeling acutely miserable. The storm having passed over, I took my big hunting-knife and cut away the creepers which barred my passage, slowly forging ahead, but with no knowledge of the direction. Hour by hour I hacked my way through that tangled scrub, and at last emerged at a short distance from a fair-sized river, which I after- wards found out was the Gwydir. At the time, however, I imagined it was another river some twenty miles away, for I could not believe I had not travelled many miles out of my way since morning. Having no idea of my bearings, and the sun having set, I left my horse to find the way home, but he was hungry and insisted on grazing deliberately as he went along. The pace was exasperatingly slow, but at last I saw the lights of a selector’s hut and rode up to it. In response to my weary “ Coo-ee ” out came a man I knew, who gave me some tea and sent me on my way feeling decidedly better. What a plight I was in when, about mid- night, I arrived home !. My Panama hat was torn into strips by the scrub, my rubber rain- coat was in rags and tatters, my saddle-bags were full of water, and the instruments therein dirty and partially rusted. That night I mentally vowed I would throw up my bush practice and

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510 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. start right off home, but in the morning, when I awoke after a good sleep, I saw the bright sun, breathed in the glorious, scent-laden air, and thanked God to be alive to enjoy such a climate. One gets very curious patients in a bush practice. I remember one in particular, an old Irishwoman of the name of Bantry. She said she was a Tipperary woman, or “stone- thrower,” but, when angry, she would throw anything she could lay hands on at the offending party ; if nothing else was handy she threw her “brogue.” This old dame was very well-to-do, and owned a productive dairy farm, about twelve or fifteen miles from my house. 1 was a great | favourite with her. “ Bedad, I like ye, docthor,” she would say, “for ye can swear nearly as well as I can meself, barrin’ that ye don’t put just as much power into it. Now, there’s me bhoy James (James was forty years old). Arrah! he’s no good at all; shure he’s a wake craythur and can’t say ‘boo’ to a goose; I don’t hould at all with a man that hasn’t a dacint turn in his con- versation.” Mrs. Bantry suffered from chronic bron- chitis, and when she got a severe attack would send for me. As often as not, out of pure devil- ment, she would choose horribly stormy or wet nights, when she had little the matter with her. One terrible pitch-black evening, when the rain was pouring its hardest, James arrived at my house soaked to the skin, and said his mother wanted me in the “‘divil’s own hurry.” “Is she very bad ?” I asked. “Well, no,” said James, candidly. ‘‘ She’s not sick bad, so to say, but she’s terrible set like, an’—an’ ye’d better be afther comin’,” he concluded, nervously. I arrived at Mrs. Bantry’s in a raging temper, as I had been up for several nights and was wet through. To my disgust and surprise I found the old dame sitting comfortably in front “© PAITH, THIN,’ SHE CRIED, ‘1 HOPE YE ENJOVED VER RIDE TO-NIGHT !'" of a big log fire, smiling and perfectly well! As I entered, soaked and miserable, she greeted me sarcastically. ‘Faith, thin,” she cried, “I hope ye enjoyed yer ride to-night! It’s what I call a rale thrate to be sittin’ warm and comfort- able in front of a dacint fire.” “Then why the dickens did you send for me, and you not ill?” I managed to ask, angrily. “Och, thin, I'll tell ye for why. Ye see, James, the poor craythur, was afther annoying me this evenin’—I misremember what it was about now—so I threw all the crockery I could lay me hands on, him hiding behind the dresser there, and shoutin’, ‘Mother! mother! What’ll I do at all at all wid ye; what'll I do for ye, bad scran to ye?’ “*Go for the docthor,’ says I, thinkin’ to me- self, ‘James will get a good wet- tin’ goin’ in, and sarve him right fur bein’ such an omadhaun. An’ the docthor’ll be in a tearin’ rage and swear beau- tiful when he comes out, an’ that same’ll do me a power 0’ good. An’ wasn’t I right now, and aren’t ye lookin’ like Ould Nick him- self, and bub- blin’ over wid language? Ha, ha, ha!’” As she sat there laughing she looked the picture of joviality ; I could not be angry long, so I sat down and talked with her whilst the unfortunate James picked up the broken crockery which strewed the floor. A glass of hot grog, a good supper, and the double fee which the old lady gave me for my arduous night journey helped to soothe me, and many’s the laugh I have since had about that “sick call” hoax. On another occasion I was sent for from a selection about thirty miles distant. It was during the heavy rains, and the journey was a rough one. When I arrived at the house I found my little patient beyond all help or hope, but whilst examining her could not diagnose any definite reason for her extreme state. Turn-

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A DOCTOR IN THE, BUSH. S11 ing round, I asked her mother how long she had been ill. “Shure the darlint only got a bit of a cold yesterday,” answered the sobbing woman. “I looked up the book that tells one what to do, and it said kerosene was an illigant thing for theumatism and colds, an’ so J gave her about half a pint! But the darlint got worse, and then I sent for ye. Oh, docthor, dear, save little Molly, that’s the light of me eyes!” But poor little Molly was quickly on her way to the Great Unknown, a victim to the am- biguous and dangerous prescriptions to be found in the wretched ‘“ Medical Encyclo- pedias” and “ Mothers Guides” which are bought by rich and poor in the outlying districts of the bush. I left the sad homestead shortly after Molly’s death. The rain was still coming down in tor- rents, and I was forced to rest at a selection nearer home, as the creek was impassable. I made the best of a bad job, and sat yarning with the selector for hours. When the creek had sub- sided sufficiently I made a fresh start, and, but for ill- luck, should have reached home in an hour. Only one more creek had to be crossed. There was barely any water in it, but spur and whip alike failed to force my little mare across. She would go as far as the edge, shake her head, stamp her fore feet, and snort, but not a step farther could I urge her. 1 could not imagine what was the matter, and could see no reason for her obstinacy. Dismounting, I attempted to lead her, but all to no pur- pose. Becoming angry and impatient, I dragged viciously atthe bridle, with the result that the mare suddenly snatched the reins from my hands and went off at full speed for the selection I had lately left. With feet swollen and wet, compressed painfully in my sodden English riding-boots, I made the best progress I could after the runaway mare. After an hour’s hard work I succeeded in catching her. Back once more to the creek T rode, and again she refused to cross. A sweet-tempered little mare at other times, and a most intelligent bush horse, she now seemed quite the contrary. Thinking I knew better than she did, I blind- folded her, and, mounting her about a hundred yards or so from the bank of the creek, put her at it full gallop. Into the middle of the creek she plunged. Then to my horror—and fright, I honestly confess—she rapidly began to sink. Too late I realized that we were in a quicksand ! Poor little Zazelle, she struggled gamely to reach the opposite bank, but it was of no use ; with my weight on her back she was too heavily handicapped. Getting my feet free from the stirrups, I threw myself out of the saddle flat on my stomach and literally sprawled ashore. So far, so good, but here I was in a most wretched plight. I could not get my mare out of the quicksand—she had now sunk almost to her withers—and I dared not leave her, for several “) LITERALLY SPRAWLED ASHORE.”

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5t2 cruel carrion crows and vultures had collected on the trees near by, watching an opportunity to fly down and peck out the poor beast’s eyes. Just then, to my relief, a carrier with his wagon and team of sixteen horses came along. He soon saw the state of affairs, and cried out: “My Colonial! How in thunder did you come for to get yer mare in that, doctor? One ’ud think she was a new-chum moke from home, to go and run herself into that mess.” Shame- facedly I told him how it had happened ; all the sympathy I received was, “Well, thank good- ness, for the credit of an Australian-born horse, that you were the new-chum fool. Come on, doc; the sooner we hitch her out of that the better.” The wagon contained a load of sawn planks, and with these we made a platform on the surface of the treacherous sand. After some trouble we succeeded in passing a long chain under the mare’s hind-quarters and another round her neck. ‘hese were fastened by a hook to another chain attached: te a swingle bar and eight of the horses hitched on. Then, with @ long pull and a strong pull, Zazelle was slow dragged out of the sandy prison which had so nearly proved her tomb. I really thought her neck would be broken, but she was at last safely landed and lay exhausted for a considerable time. After that experience I paid greater respect to the superior instinct of my horse regarding the manifold dangers of the bush. - At three o’clock one afternoon, during a very busy season, when I could not call a moment my own, I was handed a telegram from Bondella, a place about fifty odd miles from Quirindi, where I was then practising. It read: “ Come without delay; my daughter seriously ill.— YEWBANK.” My first impulse was to say I could not go, for I had one case of fractured skull, un- conscious, and another case hovering on the borderland of death, but after a short mental calculation I reckoned I would respond to the call. By three-thirty I was astride one of my best horses, a black called Chance. Fortunately it was dry weather and the roads were fairly good. In two hours’ time from leaving Quirindi I was at Mooki Station, and off my horse in a moment. Hastily removing saddle and bridle, I trans- ferred them to a fine bay horse, which was ready waiting for me, as I had telephoned ahead. T well remember that horse; his brand was I.X.L,, and he did not belie his motto. Leaving without a moment’s unnecessary delay, I made straight for Mr. Lamb's station, right across the bush, by a very nasty and little-used track, and pressed my gallant bay to his utmost. Across THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. dangerous gulleys we flew, and country with great gaping tracks in the dry earth, where if my horse made a false step he was sure to break his legs and most likely my neck. Arriving at Lamb's, I jumped the low fence and rode up to the veranda. ‘Ihe “ boss ” came out, and, of course, asked me to come in. “ No time to-night, thanks,” I replied. ‘ Tell me the shortest way to Coomoo-Coomoo.” A glorious full moon shone down in all its brightness as I trotted off; the track now lay through myall country. The going was rather heavy, but the bay swung along with a steady gait.. Ever and anon kangaroos, looking ghostly in the moonlight, bounded with silent leaps across my path. The distant howling of the dingo and the weird cry of the curlew, varied occasionally by the blood-curdling call of the mopoke—a harmless night owl—all helped to add their quota of incident to the night ride. Sharp at 8 p.m. I rode up to the veranda of Coomoo-Coumoo homestead. Whilst one of the hands was getting a fresh horse ready for me I took a bite and sup, but did not stay more than fifteen minutes. My fresh mount was a gallant little roan cob, and he covered the remaining five or six miles to Bondella in a brace of shakes. Old Yewbank greeted me warmly on my arrival at his homestead, and thanked me for my expedition. “By gum, you must have travelled, doc !” he said, admiringly. I attended to my patient, and found nothing to cause alarm, so prescribed for her and then went out to have supper with the old man. “Now, doc, fall to,” he said; “have a good tuck in, and after supper we'll go on the veranda. I’ve got a prime box of cigars and a dozen of Bass. Jove! I’m just dying to have a good old talk with you.” “T'm very sorry, Mr. Yewbank,” I said, “but I must be off at once; I have a lot of bad cases to attend to in the town.” “Well, if you must, you must,” said Yewbank, regretfully. “But here—take this, and these, to lighten the journey home.” With that he handed me a substantial cheque for my fee, and half the box of cigars for my enjoyment. By the time I was on my horse again it was ten-thirty. The bay horse, I.X.1.., was ready for me at Coomoo-Coomoo, and I soon changed my saddle on to him. Away through the myall and grass country I sped, picking up my_ black horse, Chance, at Mooki Station. He was in the small stockyard, but not a soul was about, so 1 quickly changed saddles once more and left the bay in the yard. As the dawn showed crimson in the sky, and

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A DOCTOR the morning star shone like a ball of molten silver in the east, throwing a fairy- like glow over the prosaic little town of Qui- rindi, I slowly rode into my stable yard and dismounted, stiff and tired, at 3-30 a.m., just twelve hours from the time I started. I had been in the saddle for ten hours, and in that time had covered one hundred miles. The extra two hours were spent at my patient’s house and by delays on the road _ changing horses. A cold bath, a change of clothes, a light breakfast, and once more I had to be in the saddle to visit my serious cases in and around the town. It was not till late in the afternoon that I got time for “ a few hours’ rest. Such is the everyday life of the. bush doctor. During a particularly dry season, about the beginning of the last long, disastrous drought which devastated the Australian Colonies, I had occasion to ride across the plains between Hughenden and Aramac. I travelled without incident until the last two days of my journey, but then, by mischance, forgot my water-bag one morning, and did not discover its absence till I was many miles on my way. Feeling thirsty, I took my travelling cup to get water from the bag, but to my disgust found it miss- ing. A scorching sun blazed down upon me, and as far as the eye could reach nothing was to be seen but dried-up herbage, rolling downs, and the deceitful mirage, with its pictures of cool lakes and shady trees. Dotted here and there were isolated gidya or fig trees, few and far between. My thirst, which was at first only Vol. xvii—€5. OLD VEWBANK GREETED ME WAKMLY.” IN THE BUSH. 513 moderate, be- came really painful from sheer contempla- tion of the lack of means to as- suage it. I rode along with the pleasant know- ledge that I had a forty miles’ journey in front of me, and that as far as I knew there was no water nearer than Stainburn Downs, my desti- nation. My little horse bravely plodded along mile after mile. The heat was torrid; the thermometer could not have been much under one hun- dred and fifteen degrees in the shade. All the blood in my body seemed to have located it- self in my brain, and the throb- bing in my head and the noise in my ears—due, of course, to the terrifio heat—were so painful and alarming that I was afraid I should drop with heat apuplexy. At last, spying a solitary tree, I rode my horse under it, dismounted, and tried to get some relief from the heat in its scanty shade. The flies, however, swooped down upon me in thousands and made matters unbearable, creeping and crawling into my eyes and nostrils, collecting round my mouth and ears, and nearly driving me crazy. The poor horse was just as badly off, so I made a fresh start. Still the pitiless sun beat down, and my throat and tongue seemed on fire. I experienced some relief by putting a pebble in my mouth, but the temporary moisture induced was soon absorbed. As I peered anxiously ahead I saw a most de- cided flash, as of sun upon water, and on nearer approach saw, to my great joy,a stream of water running in a narrow furrow. Hastening up, I slacked the rein to allow my horse to drink, but

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514 THE WIDE WORLD after one sniff at the water he curled up his lips with disgust and backed away. ‘“That’s queer,” I thought ; “I suppose the water is too warm, and he doesn’t like it. Hot or cold, however, I must moisten my mouth.” Down I knelt, eagerly gulping in great mouthfuls of the luke- warm fluid. A moment later I wished I hadn't. After the first few mouthfuls I discovered some- thing must be wrong; my throat, from being simply dry, became parched and intensely pain- ful. Once again my horse was the wiser animal of the two. ‘I'he water, I soon discovered, was from a bore, and was highly charged with alkali, which acted upon the lining of my mouth and throat in the same manner as a solution of caustic soda! I cannot describe the agony of thirst and pain I went through during the remaining miles MAGAZINE. drink I shall never forget. I allowed the water to trickle slowly over my swollen tongue and down my parched, alkali-burnt throat, whilst the man watched me sympathetically, making no remarks, for he knew I could not speak, even if I wished to. I spent the night at Stainburn Downs, and in a couple of days both I and the horse had completely recovered. As a set-off against the hardships of the bush there may be enumerated the glorious, healthy climate, the kangaroo hunts and wallaby drives, the hospitable, free-handed generosity and pleasant station life. Last, and, to my think- ing, best of all, you have plenty of good horse- flesh and unbounded elbow-room. I cannot end this article without quoting perhaps the most extraordinary of the many “OPHAT DRINK I SHALL NEVER FORGET.” of my journey. Suffice it to say that about sun- down I rode up to a little lagoon, close by Stainburn Downs homestead, and, seeing two travellers camped there, made signs to them that I wanted a cup of water. One of them promptly seized a pannikin and held it towards me. ‘That queer letters I received from my patients. It read :— “DraR DOoKTER, — Plese send me sum- thin, all the theeth in my yed is akin, and i’ve got a bulchin in me gums.— Yours truly, MaRIE Bowers.”

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Something Like a Splash—A “ Tower of Silence '’—Fighting Forest Fires— The Legend of the Lake, etc. @) N the prolific country of the West A) huge forests of pine are among the rich endowments of a_ bountiful | Nature, and the felling of the trees gives employment to a large number of men. The conveyance of the logs to points whence they can reach their distant destination is, of course, a serious part of the work. Water being thecheapest means of trans- port. wherever a lake or river is conveniently situ- ated advantage is always tiken of its proximity. In- clined log- slides are constructed leading directly to the margin, and the timber, after being laboriously dragged to these, is allowed to slip with ever-increas- ing speed down into the water. The force of the great log as it strikes the surface is so great that an immense splash, From a) SPEED DOWN A MOUNTAIN TIMUER-SLIDE. sometimes a hundred feet in height, is raised, often forming most fantastic shapes. The accompanying snap-shot gives a very good idea of the usual effect. We reproduce it by per- mission of the London agent of the Canadian Government. The scene is the shore of Harrison Lake, B.C : SOMETHING LIKE A SPLASH—A GREAT LOG ENTEKING A CANADIAN LAKE AFTER TRAVELLING AT EXPKESS (Photo.

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516 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. ONE OF THE GkUM * TOWERS OF SILENCE IN WHICH THE PAKSEES OF INDIA DISPOSE OF THEIR DEAD. From a Photo. Many of our readers, no doubt, have heard of the famous Indian “Towers of Silence,” but very few know what these grim structures look like. The accompanying photograph depicts the “Tower of Silence” wherein the Parsees of Deolali, Bombay Presidency, India, dispose: of their dead. The corpse is brought to the hill whereon the tower and a small ceremony- house stand, and here prayers are uttered in the presence of friends and relations. ‘The body is then handed over to the priests and is carried by them to the iron door shown in the picture. There, without covering except that afforded by a small white wooden box placed over the lower part of the trunk, it is pushed into the open space encircled by the walls of the tower and left to the birds of the air. In certain parts of America, especially in the Adirondacks —the favourite resort of the sport- ing millionaire and lover of the “ simple life ”— FIGHT THE FLAMES. forest fires have been a source of enormous damage, not only doing irreparable damage to vast tracts of woodland, but consuming villages, railway tracks, stations, and everything that comes within their devastating path. To cope with this ever-present danger the American railways are adopting a special travelling “ Fire Service ”—in reality a fire-engine with a tank capable of holding over six thousand gallons of water. ‘This, coupled to a powerful locomotive, can dash off to the scene of an outbreak at short notice and at least do something to arrest the progress of the fire, if not entirely save the property menaced. By the use of these travel- ling fire-fighters, combined with the cutting of wide lanes through the woods at intervals, the authorities hope to confine the forest fires to small areas. We next reproduce a photograph of a quaint “cure” resort in remote Tibet, where Tibetans ERTY IN SOME PARTS OF THK UNITED TO THE SCENE OF AN OUTBREAK AND (Photo.

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A CURIOUS TIBETAN “HEALTH RESORT "—THERE ARE TEN SPRIN: PARTICULAR DISEASE. From a) from far and near “take the waters” quite in the European way. In the Khambu Valley there are a number of hot springs which are considered by the Tibetans to possess great medicinal powers, and are accordingly regularly visited by many natives anxious to be made well. Each spring is popu- larly supposed to cure a certain disease, but at the same time if you bathe in one you must bathe in all, in case you offend the guardian deities and thus lay yourself open to the other diseases. The bathers therefore usually camp at this remote watering place for ten days or so. Some of the springs are coveted over by a hut, as in the centre of the photograph, but others are left quite open. They are of varying temperature, some being tepid and others so hot that one can only just bear one’s hand in them; all smell strongly of sulphur. The inhabitants of. the valley are a pleasant and cheerful lot, and do their best to make the health- ODDS AND ENDS. EACH OF WHICH IS SUPPOSED TO CURE A (Photo. of the bird, resemblance. 507 seekers who visit them comfort- able. In South-West- ern California there are two trees which bear the nicknameof “The Ostrich,” on ac- count of their re- markable resem- blance to this bird when viewed from a short distance. The boisterous air-currents have gradually twisted and bent the trunks into the strange form shown in the pic- ture, the trunks arching over to form the “legs” the branches and scanty foliage above completing the remarkable An idea of the size of this curious freak of Nature can be gained by comparing it with the man who is standing beside it. SOUTHERN CALIFUKN From a Photo. by Putnan & Valentine, Los Angeles, Cal.

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518 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Off the coast of Santa Catalina Island, Califor- nia, are to be found great beds of kelp, a sea- weed plant of curious form, having at the base a__ large, smooth ball, from which grows a long streamer. In places along the coast this kelp is washed ashore in great quanti- ties, and is much esteemed as a curiosity by the numerous visitors who flock to the island in summer- time. ‘The in- habitants, with a shrewd cye to SOME OF THE MANY USEFUL AND ORNAMENTAL ARTICLES MANUFACTURED FROM THE DRIED KELP, the main chance, From a Photo. ty C. C. Pierce & Co. collect the weed and dry it in the sun, suspending it from wooden up in this manner the kelp bears a curious re- bars by the ends of the streamers. When hung semblance to the formidable war-clubs of certain savage tribes. After being tho- roughly dried the material is made into all manner of quaint orna- ments by ingeni- ous craftsmen— ornaments of so diverse a nature and appearance that it is well- nigh impossible to believe that one and all are composed merely of seaweed. A view of the dry- ing-yard and some samples of the many: articles subse- quently — manu- factured from this peculiar pro- duct of the sea are shown PA CAIALINA—THE WEED LOOKS FXACTLY LIKE THE WAR-CLUBS oF CERTAIN savace ! the annexed TRIBES. (C. C. Pierce & Co. photos. KELP DRYI froma t

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ODDS AND ENDS. A BENEVOLENT DEITY — rEOPVLE ARE TAUGHT TO RELIEVE THAT BY RUBBING THIS GOD THEY CAN BE CURED OF THEIR From a) AILMENTS. [Phote. The photo. here reproduced shows a Buddhist god in the temple of Kiyomizu, Kioto, Japan. The people are taught to believe that, if suffering from any complaint, they can be cured by rubbing this god on the limb or part where their Own trouble is. Although the whole body is fairly well rubbed, it would appear that complaints of the nose are most prevalent in Kioto, for the deity’s nasal organ is worn almost flat. It will be ob- served from the photograph that the god is wearing quite a number of collars and wrist- 519 Walchensee, surrounded on all sides by beau- tiful woods and snow-capped mountains. The depth of this lake is unknown. Every year efforts to fathom it are made, but so far entirely without success. Many boating accidents occur on the lake owing to the sudden storms which sweep down with tremendous force from the neighbouring mountains, and the bodies of those drowned are never recovered. The lake, writes a correspondent, is supposed to be the crater of some extinct volcano, and this supposition may explain the curious legend which has been handed down for hundreds of years by the people of Munich. A huge dragon, they say, with flaming eyes of fire, has Jain curled up at the bottom of the lake for thousands of years, and thus he will lie until wickedness and impiety govern the land. Then, without warning, the monster will awake, churning the waters of the lake with his tail and breathing forth smoke and fire. The lake will rise, and its waters will burst out from the mountains in one terrific torrent, rush- ing down to the Bavarian plains and utterly destroying the city of Munich and all the towns and villages round about. This strange and alarming legend is so impli- citly believed by the good people of Munich that every year it is the custom for a solemn service to be held in one of the churches, when prayers are offered for the A QUAINT HONG-KONt; CHAKACTER—HE IS FORTY- " | vO YEARS OLD AND ON “EIGHT INCHES S bands. These are presented 77,40) OCP AND ity unt wEionT long-continued sleep of the either by grateful worshippers who have been cured of their ailments, or by persons who look upon the gifts as extra inducements to the deity to bestir himself on their behalf. The quaint dwarf seen in the centre photograph was snap-shotted on board the U.S. flagship Aainbow at Hong- Kong. He isa native of that place, forty-two years old, and only thirty- eight inches in height. He makes a living by visiting the ships in port, the crews of which treat him with Jack’s proverbial hospitality, and gene- rally attend to the little fellow’s simple wants. To the south of Munich, the capital of Bavaria, just on the borders of the Tyrol, lies the lovely lake of VHF BEAUTIFUL LAKE OF WALCHENSEE, IN KAYARIA, TO WHICH A REMARKABLE From al LEGEND 1S ATTACHED. (Photo.

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520 dragon and the preservation of the city. Visitors to the ancient city of Budapest, in Hun- gary, may notice a number of curious tin boxes, similar to that shown in our next photo. hung on walls and posts about the town. The boxes are painted light blue and have three orifices, two about a couple of inches long and one and a _ half inches wide, while the third is smaller. The mysterious boxes are intended principally for the collection of nothing less than lumps of sugar, which are afterwards distributed to the poor and needy of the city. Coffee- drinking is greatly prevalent in Budapest, and with every cup four or five lumps of sugar are furnished. Any coffee-drinker who has a lump or two left over is expected to be charitable enough to drop them into the sugar- boxes. If he has no sugar, or wishes to supple- THE MYSTERIOUS TIN HOXES WHICH THE VISITOR SEES DISPLAYED IN BUDAPEST — THEY SERVE A VFRY CURIOUS PURPOSE. From a Photo. THE WIDE WORI.D MAGAZINE. ment his contribution with coin of the realm, the lower and smaller slot is ready to receive his mite. So far as we know, there are no similar boxes anywhere else in the world. Acorns are favourite articles of food with the Yosemite (Cali- fornia) Indians, and they go to a good deal of trouble in order to ensure an adequate supply in winter - time. The accom- panying photo- graph shows a “cheeckah,” or storehouse, in which acorns are kept until required. The structure is thatched with pine branches, which are hung points down- wards, prevent- ing the entrance of squirrels and other marauding animals. THE ACORN STOKEHOUSES OF THE YOSEMITE INDIANS, * From a Photo. _ The SmuscLer’s ‘IN THE Swine oF THE PentYAND k sal oH Qe Y » a (oR Qi | as pao > Festiva oF THE f 2 Wie Guest” ares Luck’or THE Lozins a PARADISE “Kelp Drying »\ THe Conversion oF SY *DopseGry My Princess Perit ON THE Hich SEAS ? ATo aot In UNTRODDEN y Patus Tower of silepce < a THe Mecca of CHINA A Doctor in THE Busn THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLANCR THE LOCALITY OF RACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER.

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“SUDDENLY THERE WAS A SCURRY OF NAKED FEET, AND WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST WARNING BLACK FORMS DARTED LIKE SHADOWS PAST US.” SEE PAGE 527.

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THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Vol. XVII. OCTOBER, 1906. No. 102, The Abduction of Eva Carson. A TALE OF THE BURMESE BORDER. By Major W. N. CAMPBELL. Sir Robert Carson, K.C.S.I., a high Indian official, managed to offend the wild Karen hiJlmen, whereupon, by way of revenge, the Karens kidnapped his idolized daughter and informed the distracted parent that they intended to crucify her! In this exciting story Major Campbell tells how, at the risk of their lives, he and a private soldier were able to rescue the little girl from a living tomb and restore her to her father’s arms. ITTLE Eva Carson, the seven-year- old daughter of a very high Indian | official, had been kidnapped by the wild Karens who dwell in the moun- tainous country between the Sittang and Salween rivers, in Burma; and there was wild excitement in Anglo-Indian circles. A civil official, It all happened like this. over - anxious to swell the revenue of Burma, had tampered with certain rights, or fancied rights, of the Karens. Amongst other things, he had proposed selling by auction the monopoly of collecting bat-* manure in the great lime- stone caverns that abound in Karenni. The tribes- men, highly indignant at his action, petitioned the Government of Burma on the subject, with the result that in 1885 Sir Robert Carson, K.C.S.I., was sent up to inquire into their grievances. No complica- tions were looked for, no danger feared, so Sir Robert took his pretty little daughter with him, think- ing that a change to the beautiful, ‘cool _hill-country would do her good. The conference, however, was distinctly not a success. Sir Robert was of opinion that the attitude of the Karens was sullen and obstinate ; their spokesman, an oid, white-headed man, by name Re Rer, he considered actually impudent. Before long our representative, losing patience with the Karens, broke up the meeting, and ordered the chiefs to attend on the following day to hear his final decision, which, he warned Vol. xvii —66, them, would be anything but a satisfactory one from their poipt of view. Once the hillmen had gone, Sir Robert retired to bed, feeling far from well. In the evening little Eva, accompanied by her ayah, wandered into the forest close to the camp to gather flowers. That was the last that was seen of her. Shortly’ afterwards the dis- tracted servant rushed shrieking to Sir Robert with the alarming news that three Karens had suddenly appeared, seized the fright- ened child, and made off with her through the trees. Next morning a bamboo post was found stuck in the ground close to the camp. Fixed to it was a letter, writ- ten in execrable Burmese, stating that the Karens had taken the poor child prisoner, and that if the obnoxious rules, lately in- troduced, were not repealed within one moon, they would crucify their captive ! Our punitive columns penetrated Karenni from all points, and the heart- broken Sir Robert, yearn- ing for news of his little daughter, accompanied the one with which I—then a light-hearted subaltern of the 41st Madras Infantry — happened to be. One afternoon we had a rather severe brush with the enemy, and while the doctors were looking to the wounded a hospital orderly came in and told Sir Robert that a prisoner was asking for him. Hastily he followed the man, and to his astonishment found Re Rer, the Karen spokesman at that

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524 fatal conference, propped up against a tree and evidently dying fast. The two men looked long at each other without a word being spoken on either side, for Sir Robert, though maddened by suspense, could not bring himself to ask for a possible confirmation of his most awful fears. The Karen was the first to break the silence. “You would *have news of your daughter?” he said, abruptly. “Yes, yes,” gasped Sir Robert. It terrified him to listen, yet he forced himself to hope against hope. “You were warned that if our rights were not restored to us within one moon we would crucify the girl,” Re Rer continued, relentlessly. “Yesterday the allotted time expired !” The unfortunate father’s misery was most pitiable to witness, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he sobbed, “But you did not do it? You were merciful? Tell me you spared the poor, innocent child!” “We did not crucify her,” came the sullen answer. “Thank God! Thank God!” murmured Sir Robert. “We buried her,” continued his enemy. “You never murdered her?” shrieked the agonized parent. “We did not touch a hair of her head; we buried her alive!” snarled Re Rer. Without a sound Sir Robert fell heavily forward on his face, as lost to the world as the quiet dead lying around. Next morning the great majority of the column left to take a full and_ lasting vengeance on the poor child’s murderers. There remained behind only Sir Robert, a few sick and wounded, a doctor, and some twenty or thirty rank and file under my com- mand. ; I was at this time, as I have already said, a subaltern, a} ube ees 4 THE AUTHOR, MAJOR W. N. CAMPBELL—AT THE ‘TIME OF THIS’ STORY HR WAS A SUINALTERN OF THE 41ST MADRAS INFANTRY. From a Photo. eee some black partridges. shooting in those days, and as I had never shot a black partridge I was very anxious to do so. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with less than two years’ service ; and probably no more desperately disappointed trod the earth. pedition with wild ideas of distinguishing individual I had set out on the ex- myself; of being an active participator in the child’s rescue. Now she was dead, and I was not even to have the poor satisfaction of help- ing to punish the fiends who had killed her; for, on the morrow, a reserve column was expected to arrive, and I had received instructions to hand over my command and attach myself to it. After the troops had marched I sulkily gave orders for the jungle close at hand to be cleared, and the thorny undergrowth collected and piled up as a hedge round the camp. An attack was not expected, but it was not im- possible. As the men were engaged on the work they disturbed I was very keen on I had a gun, I had cartridges, but I also had SIR_ROBERT CARSON, Froma) THE MISSING CHILD. K.CS.L, THE FATHER OF (Photo. orders not to leave camp until the arrival of the reserve column. My temper at luncheon must have scared the doctor, who up to that time had, I believe, con- sidered me a perfectly harm- less and inoffensive youth. In the afternoon more partridges were seen. It was too much for me; I ran for my gun. At first I kept close to the camp, but, though I saw a few birds and could hear others calling all round me, I could not get a shot. Accordingly I went a little farther, and shortly found myself by the banks of a beautiful stream, which ran through dense forest. I determined to walk to the base of a high conical hill, which I saw close at hand, and then retrace my steps. By following the brook I soon arrived at my goal, and gaped with astonishment to see that the stream gushed out from a low tunnel in the hillside.

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THE ABDUCTION Going up to the mouth to examine it more closely, I noted that Karens had been there before me; I could see the marks of their naked feet in the sand by the river-bed. Next moment I was rushing like a madman back to camp, for there—printed deep and clear on the soft sand—I had seen the mark of a little English girl's shoe ! A thousand ideas flashed through my mind. The poor child had been murdered there with- out a doubt ; I would rouse the camp and have search made for her body. Then I remembered that the Karen had said she had been buried alive. Could she be alive now? A wild hope awoke in me at the thought. Possibly the dead man’s meaning was that she had been buried away in some secret cave, and was even then dying of hunger and fright ! Perhaps, after all, I was to be her rescuer—to have a chance of showing what I was worth. One is very sanguine at the age of twenty-two. By the time I reached camp my mind was made up. I sent for Private MacAlister, a grizzled, intelligent vid Scotchman, who, but for a too ardent devotion to his country’s national drink, would have risen high in the service. ‘To him alone I con- fided my secret. “And now, MacAlister,” T said, “ will you help me?” “Deed, surr, an’ a prood mon wull I be to do so,” said the old Scot; ‘an’ Heaven peety ony o’ they black deevils once Rob MacAlister taks a grup o’ them.” - Within half an hour we had started, taking with us a photo- graphic lantern, a couple of revolvers, and some old Karen clothing, which we had discovered in an empty hut. Once out of sight of the camp, both of us stripped and put on the native clothing, thinking that if we met any Karens in the darkness of a cave we might escape immediate recognition. Soon we reached the mouth of the tunnel. The child’s shoe-prints were plainly visible, and, as MacAlister observed, only pointed one way— straight to the entrance. The lantern having been lit, we entered the stream, and a moment later were in the tunnel, advancing with the utmost caution. Our advent disturbed myriads of horrible bats, which flapped OF EVA CARSON. 525 sluggishly round us in circles ; the air was fetid with the smell of the noisome creatures, which continually brushed against our faces and clung to our hair. The water was at present barely knee-deep, but both of us felt that at any moment we mizht plunge into a bottomless hole. The darkness seemed solid, so intense was it; the whole adventure was eerie in the extreme, and I am not ashamed to confess that J was sweating at every pore from sheer nervous excitement. “(lL HAD SEEN THE MARK OF A LITTLE ENGLISH GIKL’S SHOE!” Soon the roof heightened ; the current first grew sluggish, then ceased altogether ; the water grew rapidly deeper, and we could no longer see the rocky sides with the aid of the lantern. Apparently the whole mountain was hollow, and we were now standing at the edge of a sub- terranean. lake of considerable size. Unknown to ourselves at the time, we had penetrated one of the largest of the caves from which the Karens got their supply of bat-manure. A moment later I bumped against some- ° thing which the lantern revealed to be one of three or four boats made fast to a stake. Our spirits rose; the horror of advancing into the unknown in the inky—blackness vanished; we

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526 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “A MOMENT LATER WE WERE IN THE TUNNEL, ADVANCING WITH THE UTMOST CAUTION.” felt sure we were hot on the track of the missing child. Without a word we clambered into one of the boats, and, loosing it, paddled gently forward, keeping close to the side of what was now an enormous cavern. In a short time the sound of falling water struck on our straining ears, and presently we came to where a little rill fell from a height into the lake. Close by were moored several more boats, and beside them a bamboo ladder, lashed to the rock, ran up into the darkness. We looked to our revolvers ; then, with palpi- tating hearts, we climbed silently upwards, feeling sure that the supreme moment was at hand. The ladder came to an end, and we found ourselves on a narrow ledge of rock. After a moment’s groping we discovered yet another ladder very simila: to the first. Again we ascended, and presently became aware of a vague light, which grew more distinct as we got higher. The last rung was reached, and we stood at the beginning of a long, high, natural passage, through which flowed a tiny stream. Stalactites and stalagmites formed great columns in the vault; the place was like the crypt of some huge cathedral. Far down it, as we cautiously peered round a corner, we beheld three Karen men gambling round a fire; beside them squat- ted five or six women, watch- ing the game. Close by the group lay what looked like a bundle of rags, save that every now and then it seemed to move. With a sign to MacAlister I ex- tinguished the lantern, and, stealing noiselessly from pillar to pillar over the floor, we approached the uncon- scious gamblers. Ere long we made out that what looked like rags was- in reality an English girl’s torn and faded dress; we could even dimly see little Eva’s features. By this time I was fairly trembling with excite- ment and exultation; I was to be the hero of the ex- pedition after all—the poor child’s rescuer ! In silence each of us selected a victim, and at a preconcerted signal rushed forward. Two shots rang out and two corpses rolled on the ground. The remaining Karens, scared out of their wits by our sudden appearance, fled howling into the darkness. We. sent a couple more shots after them, which, though probably hastening their flight, apparently did them no harm. Then, forgetful of our enemies, and that we were ourselves by no means out of danger, both of us ran to poor little Eva, whose wrists and ankles we could see were loosely bound. The unhappy child started away from us, terrified and moaning. In the uncertain light, and disguised as we were, she did not recognise her own countrymen. In a second’ I was on my !a:ees beside her and had cut her bonds, at the same time hurriedly explaining who we were. Her father was in camp close by, waxing for her, I added, and we would take her to him presently. MacAlister was also doing his best to reassure

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THE ABDUCTION the poor, frightened girl by an occasional cheery word, Suddenly there was a scurry of naked feet, and without the slightest warning black forms darted like shadows past us. There was a blow and a groan, and I saw MacAlister stretched un- conscious on the ground. Startled, I heard the flying Karens hurrying along the gallery and clambering down the ladders, but ere I could do anything there was the splash as of some great mass falling into the water far below. Another moment and the noise was repeated, echoing and reverberating through the great vault. My heart stood still; a feeling of deadly sickness crept over me. I realized ina moment what had happened. Forgetful of Eva and the poor wounded soldier, I hastened to the end of the passage and found my worst fears confirmed. The Karens, after climbing down, had cut the lashings and toppled the ladders into the water. Our only means of exit was destroyed ! When I realized this awful fact I sat down helplessly on the edge of the cliff and a dull, numbing despair settled upon my brain. It was not hard to foresee thata lingering death by starvation was to be the end of us all. Escape there could be none; not the smallest ‘possibility of it. Now, for the first time, my own part in the affair stood out clearly before me in its true colours. I, and I alone, was re- sponsible for con- demning poor little Eva and MacAlister to a hideous death. My desire to be the hero in the enterprise had been my only reason for not making my discovery public ; my utterly — selfish ambition alone had prevented my organiz- - ing a proper search- party, lest I should be eclipsed, lest my part in the rescue should sink into insignificance. Bitterly now I reviled my wicked vanity. At length, nerving myself to face the position more calmly, I went back to my companions in misfortune, having resolved not to alarm them until I had made absolutely certain that no other exit from the cavern existed. MacAlister’s hurt fortunately proved to be but a slight one, and on my return I found him sitting up, with OF EVA CARSON. 527 Eva on his knee. He had apparently received a blow on the head from a club of some sort, which had stunned him for a time, but now he only complained of a bad headache. The child had a thousand questions to ask about her father—whether he was well, why he had not come for her himself, and about the expedition. Then she told us of her own adven- tures. Apparently she had not been unkindly treated, as the greatest hardship she could remem- ber was that she had had to eat what she called “‘coolies’ food.” At length came the inevitable proposal that we should go back to her father. Hastily-I put her off, saying I thought poor MacAlister ought to rest a little longer, and that in the meantime I would explore the remainder of the cave. : There was little to discover in it. All I found was evidence that the Karens had been accustomed to dig manure from it, which doubt- less accounted for the presence of the boats and ladders. Means of exit there was none. Asa matter of fact, the gallery we were in, as I had already suspected, narrowed rapidly until it became a mere cleft in the rock. THE HILL IN WHICH WAS LOCATED THE CAVE WHERE THE AUTHOR DISCOVERED THE MISSING CHILD, Fron a Photo. There was but one chance, and that of the most slender nature. I returned, and, drawing MacAlister aside, I laid bare to him the hideous truth; then I told him of my hope, the frail thread on which all our lives depended. I would climb down the cliff, I said, and attempt to reach the boats in that way. The lake, I pointed out, lay not more than sixty feet below us ; a Karen, at one time or another, must have climbed up to discover the place ; and where a

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528 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Karen could climb up I could surely climb down. The first half of the journey, I knew, could not be very difficult, for I had noticed a distinct slope in the longer of the two ladders as we ascended. I made as light as I could of the task before me, though I can confess with- out boasting that I believed I was going to certain death. MacAlister interrupted me in a rage. “Do ye no tak’ shame on yoursel’, surr, to propose leaving the young leddy? If ony ane is to gang owre the bit brae, wha sud it be but a dodderin’, drucken auld wastrel like mysel’? I'll be aboot it the noo, and you and the bonny wee bairn wull just bide quiet tull I come back wi’ help.” Of course, I would not hear of his pro- posal, and at last wrung a very unwill- ing promise from him that he would help me in my attempt. We accordingly untwisted the ropes that had bound Eva, and succeeded in making from them accord about twenty feet in length, to which we attached the lantern. We next removed all the fuel we could find in the cave to the extreme edge of the cliff, and with it made a fierce blaze. Then I bade MacAlister lower the lighted lantern over the edge of the precipice, and, kick- ing off my shoes to enable me to get a better grip of the rocks, I began the descent into the darkness. Swarms of the loathsome bats settled on me and hung to my hair and clothes, but I dared not brush them away lest I should fall. Soon my hands and feet were bleeding from the abrasions caused by the rocks, “SWARMS OF THE LOATHSOME BATS SETTLED ON ME AND HUNG TO MY HAIR AND CLOTHES.” and the perspiration simply poured from me. Once I slipped and thought all was over ; only a lucky clutch at an unseen projection saved me. _I was cut and gashed all over; my breath came in sobs. MacAlister—in a sudden paroxysm of anxiety—shouted to me to come back, but I was too spent to answer. After that terror left me; exhaustion made me perfectly callous, and I had nearly abandoned all hope when the lantern, following my painful descent, threw a faint flicker of light on the ledge which I mentioned in a former part of the story. It was barely a foot below me! Reaching it with a great sob of thankfulness, I feebly shouted up that I had got half-way, and then sank down on the rock—bleeding, panting, perspiring, and hardly con- scious. How long I lay there I cannot tell, but at length I pulled myself to- gether and recom- menced my _ task. This time I only managed to descend a very little way, then I found I could go no farther. Indeed, I had to strain every muscle to keep my- self where I was. My agony was terrible, for by this time both hands and feet were cut to the bone. Then the old callous feeling gradually crept over me once more. What did it matter if I was dashed against a ‘rock or struck the boats and was killed ? What did it matter if Eva and Mac- Alister were left un- aided? Nothing mattered. All pain ceased; there was an entire numbness of body and brain. Without knowing it, I must have relaxed my grip; I can re member falling with lightning speed, then the water closed over:

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THE ABDUCTION OF EVA CARSON. ~ 529 me. Down, down I went; I felt, as in a dream, that I was going to sink for ever. But the fresh, cold water put strength into me ; I struggled for life and was presently on the surface again, striking out blindly. Terrified screams from Eva and shouts from MacAlister, far above, recalled my scattered senses; I hailed them with a faint cry. Next moment my hand struck a boat; with infi- nite labour I clam- bered into it and called out to my anxious —compan- ions that I had found a boat, was all right, and would bring help with all speed. In the dead silence I could hear MacAlister comforting the frightened child, who was sobbing and screaming for her father. Panting, I made my way along the edge of the lake, my bruised hands letting me make but slow progress. Then I felt the boat caught by the current and I was whirled, bumping and banging con- tinually against unseen boulders, through the tunnel, expecting every moment to be up set. Suddenly the bright, glaring sun- shine of the outer world confused, dazzled, and almost blinded me. Blinking like an owl, I flung myself out of the boat and clambered to the river-bank ; I was only a mile from camp and would soon be there. My feet were in a terrible state, but I hobbied over the first half of the journey quite quickly. After that my anguish became intolerable ; every step I took I felt as if knives stabbed me. At length I was obliged to crawl on my hands and knees. The sun glowed fiercely on my bare head and almost naked body, turning me faint and sick ; I think that I must have fainted twice, but of this Iam not certain. At last I found myself close to the camp; I could see figures Vol. xvii.—67, = “THE BULLET WHIZZED CLOSE TO MY HEAD." moving about, but I had reached the spot where the men had been cutting the jungle, and could go no farther ; for the ground was covered with innumerable huge thorns, that ran into me and broke off in my flesh at every step I went. In despair I gave a feeble shout, but it was unheeded ; another and another I essayed, but still there was no response. In a last desperate effort I stood up, and a_ hideous scream issued from my parched lips. Dimly I saw a sentry raise his rifle to his shoulder and fire; the bullet whizzed close by my head. Over- come with mingled weakness and chagrin, I fell in a heap to the ground, vaguely realizing that, in my tattered Karen dress, the soldier had taken me for one of the enemy. A _ blood- red mist swam before my eyes; I remembered no- thing more. The sentry’s shot, however, speedily aroused the camp, and, no more Karens appearing, a party went out to examine the seemingly dead man. ‘They were not a little aston- ished at discover- ing who the supposed enemy was. 5 An hour later I had recovered and told my story, and the overjoyed Sir Robert Carson and I, carried in doolies (litters), were at the mouth of the tunnel, while a strong party of soldiers were within the cave arranging for the rescue of MacAlister and little Eva. My disobedience of orders in leaving camp was entirely forgotten; I received nothing but unstinted praise on all sides, and I believe that I myself was the only person who was not proud of my exploit. But I never forgot—even now I shudder when I think of it—how my selfish vanity was very nearly responsible for a hideous tragedy.

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The automobile has been put to some curious uses, but it was left to a party, of New York motorists to demonstrate its value to the big-game hunter in the wilderness. his interesting article describes the adventures of some enterprising sportsmen who recently completed a unique motor-car hunting trip through the backwoods of Maine and the provinces of New Brunswick and Quebec. T has already been abundantly proved that the motor-car, as a means of speedy transport, has m@| come to stay; but not even the “ most enthusiastic champion of the automobile would, a few years ago, have ven- tured to claim for it the capabilities which it has shown for many and divers uses. Who, for instance, would imagine that the motor-car could prove itself the friend of the hunter in the wilderness, not only bearing him and his impedimenta bravely through trackless woods and across streams, but banishing for ever those wearisome accompaniments of travel in the backwoods, the “pack” and the “portage” ? Yet the value of the motor in this unlooked-for sphere of action has been conclusively demon- strated by a remarkable trip recently made by a party of New York sportsmen. These daring pioneers were Mr. Ezra Fitch, a meinber of most of the prominent sportsmen’s clubs of the Eastern States, who organized and captained the tour; Mr. Augustus Post, chair- man of the touring committee of the American Automobile Association; Mr. N. Lazarnick, a well-known war-correspondent and photographer, Illustrations from photographs supplied by Augustin Rischgitz. who took the striking pictures reproduced with this article ; and Messrs. A. T. Edmundson and R. H. Johnston, both veteran travellers. The entire outfit of the expedition, including the cars, was first shipped by boat from New York to Portland, Maine, where the unique journey was to commence. ‘The machines chosen for the journey were three White steam touring-cars, steam being deemed better than other forms of motive power for the rough going and arduous work ahead. Ere starting Mr. Post removed the “tonneau” from his car, but the other machines were in no way altered ; even the hampers, canopy tops, and headlights were retained. The question of equipment for such an un- usual expedition, of course, was particularly important, and the members of the party devoted much anxious thought to it. Seeing that, in many parts of the wild region they were about to visit, roads would be either lacking altogether or of a very primitive description, it was necessary to take with them appliances likely to be of service in negotiating particularly bad places. To this end a block and tackle, several hundred feet of rope, axes, crowbars, ‘i ; i FOOQTIC 4

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A MOTOR-CAR and shovels were carried. All this equipment, together with some extra car-springs and a few spare parts, was loaded on Mr. Post’s machine, which was immediately dubbed the “ wrecking car.” On this were also placed four silk tents. These, besides being waterproof and _ light, rolled into very compact bundles, which were strapped on the step with leather thongs. Mr. Post’s car likewise carried a stove and a “portable baker,” both of which folded flat and took up scarcely any room at all. The remainder of the equipment was divided among the other two machines. There was, first of all, an aluminium cooking outfit for a party of seven, consisting of saucepans, frying-pans, pails, plates, cups, etc. These fitted into one another so snugly that they were all contained in a water- proof pail fifteen inches in diameter and eighteen inches high. Then there was the stove-pipe, the sections of which also telescoped compactly into one another. A rifle and a fishing-rod for each member of the party, an abundance of ammunition, and a fine lay-out of fishing tackle » were neatly packed in the hampers of Mr. Fitch’s car. Furthermore, there were air-beds, folding lanterns, ground cloths, pocket com- passes, and numerous other articles, to contribute to the comfort of the tourists while in camp and on the road. Each man also carried a heavy canvas kit- bag, containing a sleeping-bag and a few extra articles of clothing, all of light wool, and strapped on the outside of each car was an extra tyre. Lastly, there were Mr. Lazarnick’s cameras, plates, and other HUNTING ‘TRIP. 531 loaded, the party started from Portland and proceeded by way of Brunswick, Augusta, Waterville, and Bangor to Oldtown. Here two guides were added to the party, not only because their services would be needed in pitching camp and selecting routes, etc., but because the laws of the State of Maine very wisely provide that no one shall fire a gun or build a fire unless accompanied by a licensed guide. It may here be remarked that the guides—conservative though such men usually are—were highly pleased at the daring innovation of hunting by automobile, as they were thus relieved of their arduous task of carrying heavy burdens on their backs, and they expressed the sincere wish that the example of ‘Mr. Fitch and his party would be followed by all sportsmen. From Oldtown the party proceeded to Matta- wamkeag, seeing many interesting sights on the way. ‘lhe picture here reproduced depicts one of the curious Maine bridges, a boarded-in structure for all the world like a shed with open ends. Up to this point the route had followed closely the line of the Maine Central Railroad. The photograph on the next page shows one of the cars side by side with a big engine — “dignity and impudence,” indeed, seeing that the motorists proposed to visit trackless regions where the railway does not penetrate. The roads were well travelled, although very hilly and quite sandy in places, and the auto- mobilés, apart from the nature of their cargo, aroused only moderate interest. At Mattawam- keag, however, the tourists left the line of the photographic _ para- phernalia. Without doubt no party had ever before pene- trated the great woods so well equipped — chiefly because no party had ever before had the carrying capacity at the disposal of these enterprising tourists. Mr. Fitch had as- sured his fellow- sportsmen that they would be as comfort- able in camp as in their own homes, and this promise — ap- parently so difficult of fulfilment — he “made good” in every particular. With their cars From a} ONE OF THE CUKIOUS MAINE BRIDGES, LIKE A SY#® WITH OPE ENDS.

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532 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE, “ DIGNITY AND IMPYDENCE"—THE CAKS WEKR TAKFN INTO REGIONS WHERE THE LOCOMOTIVE DOES From a) NOT PENETRATE, railroad and struck due north towards Patten. When near this town the travellers experienced the first of the many incidents which served to make this tour highly eventful. The whole State of Maine had been suffering from a six weeks’ drought, and as an inevitable result the woods were like so much tinder, and forest fires were raging on all sides. The party soon had occasion to learn how fire persists under such circumstances. Coming through the woods they found a place which had evidently just been left by a party of thoughtless campers who had not completely extinguished their fire, and it was spreading over a considerable area. The motorists spent fully an hour in putting out the smouldering embers, and hard work they found it; it seemed almost as if the fire were communicated under the surface of the ground from root to root, for when extinguished in one place it would break out again two or three feet away. All the tourists now under- stand how it is that millions of dollars’ worth of timber are consumed every time a fire gets under way. On that day, and on the next as well, they passed many towns which were evidently only just being completed. Inquiry elicited the information that the buildings formerly com- prising these little settlements had been swept away by the forest fires of recent years, and all the able-bodied inhabitants were even then out fighting the forest’s natural enemy in an effort to save their homes from being once more wiped out. Under these circumstances it is easy to under- stand the bitter feel- ing cherished by the inhabitants towards those whose care- lessness with matches and camp- fires so often causes a devas- tating conflagration. When the tourists reached Braggville, near Patten, they found a fire burning on each side of the road. Halting, they held a council of war, and finally decided to risk an advance. With full head of steam they dashed through the pall of smoke which: obscured the road. Showers of burning embers whirled around them, but by good for- tune they managed to run the fiery gauntlet without accident and arrived in Patten safely, though greatly exhausted through inhaling the heavy smoke. The forests covering the slopes of Mount Katahdin, near by—the highest peak in Maine —were burning, and the tourists sat up all night watching the lurid flames leaping up the mountain side—a sight not soon to be forgotten in its awful magnificence. Resuming their journey the next day the motorists soon came to a road which branched off towards the east, and on inquiry they learned that the two or three small automobiles which had previously penetrated up to this point had all taken this road, which leads to Houlton and the more settled eastern portion of Maine. Although the eastern road was the only one shown on the cycle map, which they had been following up to this point, Mr. Fitch and his party continued boldly on the trail which led due north, and soon found them- selves in a country even rougher and wilder than that which they had hitherto traversed. The few people they met stared at the cars as though they were visitors from some other planet, absolutely thunderstruck with amaze- ment. How different were the powerful machines to the local vehicles encountered may be judged from the next photograph, showing as striking a contrast in methods of transport as could be imagined. [Photo.

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A MOTOR-CAR HUNTING TRIP. “Ts this an auto- mobile ?” asked a lumberman’s wife, when they stopped before her humble cottage to take in the beautiful vista of lake and woodland which stretched before them. This artless question perhaps conveys an idea of the abso- lutely pioneer nature of the tour from this point onwards right through to its termi- nation. Near the little settlement of Masar- dis the tourists for the first time camped out, and so comfortably did they pass the night and so much did they enjoy the meals cooked over the camp-fire that they all declared they had no further use for hotels or farmhouses : henceforth they would lead the “simple life” outdoors. A charming camp- scene is depicted in the photograph at the foot of this page. A few words regarding the procedure on reaching the camping-ground may be of interest to those who contemplate a similar trip. In the oa tee a. iedsi From a) first place a camp site was, of course, selected near a lake, stream, or spring. All fell to work at once with axes to clear a space for the tents The camp paraphernalia was and machines. (Photo. then unloaded from the cars, and the guide who acted as cook immediately built his fire and commenced preparations for the evening meal, while the rest of the party cut tent-poles and tent-pegs, put up the tents, and built a crude table on which to spread the meal. By the time this work was completed the dinner would be ready, and they ate their simple repast from the aluminium dishes with much more enjoyment than ever they ate from Limoges china in New York’s finest hostelries. After dinner the party would sing around the camp-fire and smoke their pipes for a while until ready to crawl into THE MOTORISTS IN CAMP,

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534 THE WIDE WORLD their sleeping-bags, which were stretched on the sweet-scented balsam boughs which had been cut by the guides and spread over the floor of the tents for that purpose. One or two of the party would then be delegated to get up at day- break and bring in a mess of fish for breakfast, and so little had the streams in the territory which they traversed been visited by fishermen that they never failed to have a fine fish breakfast. During their trip the party visited several lumber camps, and the photograph we repro- duce below shows an immense pile of logs ready for shipment. When Mr. Fitch and his party broke up their MAGAZINE. seemed as though they had penetrated into an entirely different country. The people here were all of French descent, and no one spoke a word of English except the parish priest. Evidently the dense forest just described had proven an effective barrier to colonization. These simple folks had never in their lives seen an automobile before, and their wonder was something too deep for words. In parties they came out to stare and marvel at the weird contrivances, as we see them in one of the photographs, and they are probably discussing the advent of the mysterious machines to this very day. Continuing on through this sparsely-settled From a) camp near Masardis they continued by way of Ashland to Portage Lake. When a few miles beyond the little lumber camp of Portage their road lay through a dense forest, and here they realized to the full that they were pioneers in the wilderness, for they had frequently to get out the axes to chop away trees and branches which had fallen across the narrow road and to cut out stumps which effectually blocked the passage of the machines. The next photograph gives some idea of the obstacles which had to be removed ere the cars could pass. The road was a constant succession of steep ascents and descents, but always making towards a higher level. For twenty miles there was no sign of human habitation, but when they once more came to a settlement, near Eagle Lake, it LOGS READY FOR SHIPMENT—THE CARS IN A MAINE LUMBER-CAMP, (Photo. region, which is one of the few spots in the United States where French is the prevailing language, the tourists reached the frontier between the United States and Canada at Fort Kent without mishap. The river was unusually low, owing to the prevailing drought, and so the motorists forded it in procession in their machines—to the vast amazement of the inhabitants, who gathered on each bank to inspect the novel conveyances. The lower illustration on page 536 shows the cars crossing the river into Canada. From Clair, the little Canadian town opposite Fort Kent, they continued on to Edmundston, and from there turned due north to Notre Dame du Lac. The guides who had been taken on at Oldtown were sent back at the border, and

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A MOTOR-CAR HUNTING TRIP. 535 PIONFERING IN THE WILDERNESS — THIS ILLUSTRATION GIVES SOME IDEA OF THE OBSTACLES From a} at Notre Dame du Lac three intelligent French- Canadians were added to the party. While pro- ceeding toward Notre Dame du Lac, Mr. Fitch, who was leading the way, saw a flock of partridges on the road ahead of him. Removing his rifle from the hamper, he shot several of them with- out leaving his seat behind the steering-wheel. One of the accompanying snap-shots depicts him about to essay a repetition of this remarkable sporting feat. At Notre’ Dame du Lac the party decided to penetrate the primeval forest which lay to the east. Accordingly they were ferried across Lake Temiscouata on a primitive side-wheel steam- boat bearing the grandiloquent name of the Storm Hero. The machines were got on board without difficulty, but when the other side of the lake was reached it was discovered that the boat could not come within some distance of the shore. A crude pier and gang-plank were accordingly constructed out of logs, and the automobiles were finally landed safely on the ENCOUNTERED IN THE WOODs. [Phote. shore of the lake, where the party camped, far removed from any signs of civilization. The next day they reconnoitred along the shore, and were rewarded by finding a rough corduroy road, which was used in winter for hauling logs. Threading their way along the beach in their machines, they entered upon this road and made their way laboriously to Lake Touladi, where they hunted and fished for several days, enjoying to the full the delights of camping in the wilderness. The pleasant camp at Lake Touladi is seen in the photograph reproduced on page 537. Once more returning to the shore of Lake Temiscouata, the motorists sent one of the guides across in a canoe to hail the Storm Hero. When the machines were again set down on the main road they proceeded northward toward the St. Lawrence River, and after many miles of incessant climbing reached the little town of St. Honoré, where they rested on the ridge of land that separates the watershed of the St. John

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536 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. FRENCH-CANADIANS WHO HAD NEVER SEEN AN AUTOMOBILE NEFORE—“ THEY CAME OUT TO STARE From a) River from that of the St. Lawrence. Con- tinuing, they reached the St. Lawrence River at Rivitre du Loup. From this point they con- tinued down-stream, passing through several quaint little towns, each of which, no matter how small it might be, had a most imposing church. This section of the Province of Quebec the tourists describe as being par- ticularly pic- turesque. The architecture of the houses and even of the barns is dis- tinctive and en- tirely unlike anything seen in English- speaking com- munities. Every few miles along the road would be seen a shrine similar to that shown on the top of page 538, testifying to the devout CROSSING THE FRONTIER BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA. . From a Photo. left the river AND MARVEL AT THE WEIRD CONTKIVANCES IN PARTIFS. [ Photo. nature of the inhabitants. Everywhere the tourists were received with the utmost cor- diality, the cars arousing in the natives the greatest curiosity. Whenever they stopped in a town they would be immediately surrounded by the inhabit- ants, who would inspect the machines criti- cally, feeling the tyres timidly and asking in their patois a myriad of questions re- garding the tourists, whence they came and whither they were going, how fast the machines could go, how much they cost, ete. Despite this curiosity, auto- mobilists = who enter the region are assured of the most friendly treatment. When the tourists came near Bic they

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A MOTOR-CAR HUNTING TRIP. 537 LRN FROM THE CAR. [Photo and proceeded back into the woods as far necessary to build a makeshift bridge, and all as the cars would carry them—which meant the road-building equipment was constantly in as far as any vehicle of any sort whatever had use. Holes were filled up, trees chopped down, ever been. Over more than one stream it was and stumps removed. The photograph given Fron: a) THE CAMP AT LAKE TOULADI. (Photo. Vol. xvii.—68.

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538 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. From a) below, showing the members of the party hack- ing a way through a veritable jungle, “which was called a road,” will enable readers to under- Sa ete, 7 Se SS eee a a a OF QUELEC. stand the difficult nature of the route here- abouts. But the tourists were well rewarded for their arduous work, for before they left their last camping-place one of their members brought down with his rifle a fine caribou. Usually the hunter is able to carry away only the head and the hide, but in this instance the entire carcass was loaded on one of the automobiles and brought triumphantly into camp, where the whole party feasted on luscious caribou steak. This incident served as the climax of the tour. As the vacations of the various members of the party had exp:red, they re- luctantly retraced their way back to the St. Lawrence and proceeded on as far as Bic, five hundred and forty miles from Portland, where the trip was brought to a close, the party returning to New York by rail. They had demonstrated that it is perfectly possible for the automobile to carry all the supplies and equip- ment necessary for man’s sustenance and comfort in the wilds, and that it is the ideal conveyance for the sportsman, provided, of course, that special preparation be made to over- come the obstacles which must be encountered when touring in remote and unfrequented regions. (Photo. (Photo.

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By W. H. Apams, LaTE District CoMMISSIONER, GOLD Coast. This exciting narrative sets forth one of the manifold perils which menace the bearers ot “the white man’s burden” on the outposts of civilization. Regarding it the author writes: “I was acting as sheriff while Mr. Phillips was on tour, and he told me. this story, which was a matter of common knowledge, on his return.’ HE sheriff, Mr. James R. Phillips,* who was also head of the Prisons Department at the time this incident happened, was making a tour of in- spection of the local jails and lock- ups of the Gold Coast Colony. He found himself one day in mid-July at Akusé, a small but important station situated on the River Volta. The next prison upon his list was at Add, and the journey meant two days’ travel in a hammock, carried by bearers, mainly over a hot, treeless plain, with nothing of interest about it. Phillips had already done over a month’s hammocking, and was weary of its dis- comfort, so he was greatly pleased at being able to secure a small steam launch that plied on the lower reaches collecting produce, to convey him down the river to his destination. Sending off his hammock and carriers overland in advance, with instructions to make as much haste as possible, he set off one dark and misty morning * Afterwards treacherously murdered near Renin City, Southern Nigeria, in company with a sub-commissioner of police and the agent of a French trading firm, both of whom were bound for Ada. The crew of the launch consisted of two natives, one looking after the engine and the other steering. They towed a surf-boat astern ; in her sat a Hausa sergeant, on his way to join his detachment, who had begged a passage for that portion of his journey. A small Kroo canoe also hung behind, close under the launch’s stern—a frail craft not unlike a very small Canadian, only much narrower and lighter. Though the weather was cheerless and damp, and the air on the river very cold, all at first went well enough. The trip was pleasant and far more satisfactory than trudging over land. As there was plenty of time the frequent temporary stoppages of the rickety engine gave them but little annoyance, although, as they got lower down, and saw at what a pace the boat was travelling, they noticed what had not previously struck them—the height of the river.

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540 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. The condition of the Volta alters as rapidly as that of a mountain stream. In the dry season the banks are well above the water. Fishing villages arise along them and the river- bed appears, until in many places it is possible for a mile at a time to walk along it without wetting th~ soles of one’s feet, while the channel contracts till there is barely sufficient water to float a canoe. Between these dry places the river flows peacefully, with great quiet pools and tippling shallows, the abode of the hippopotamus and crocodile. ‘The canoes from natural or otherwise, and for days at a time the five lines of hammering breakers forbid the steamers to work their cargo. Often they have to leave, hoping to find the “beach” better on their way back. When the stream, swollen by half-a-dozen rain-storms in the forest, hurls its turbid waters into the surf, the river bar can only be described as appalling. Putting aside any question of the bar itself, the passage from the town through the surf, off to the steamers, is at times so dangerous that the Government forbids its the coast journey hundreds of miles up-stream carrying salt, rum, and powder, poling along the quiet reaches and portaging their goods when necessary. At this period of the year the journey by water from Akust to Ada takes from eight to twelve hours, a good deal of the time being occu- pied in getting clear of the sand-banks. But see the Volta in the rainy season, from May to October; then the trip may be done in three hours. The far-off upper reaches become a resistless torrent half a mile wide. Lagoons, swamps, and morasses form on either side, the tributary streams become rivers, until they all com- mingle and form a great sheet of water. The natives retire from their temporary fishing villages, leaving them to their fate ; the lion and the elephant, with the deer and the smaller animals, leave the banks for higher ground. The tribes themselves do not attempt to travel in the months of August and September, but lie quiet till the waters have abated from off the face of the earth. When the river reaches the plains and enters the forest country, where rain is always more or less prevalent, and where mountain streams and rivulets feed the already swollen waters, then at times the current becomes irresistible. The Volta widens out for the last part of its journey until it joins the sea, whose waters it discolours for many miles round, at the little town of Ada. From Sierra Leone down all the West African coast-line the surf is very bad, and at times terribly dangerous ; but here the shore is so ex- posed and the sea so shallow that the Ada surf has the reputation of being one of the worst in the world. ‘There is no breakwater of any kind, MR. JAMES R. PHILLIPS, SHERIFF OF THE GOLD Coast. From a Photo. officials to attempt it, but brings them up overland to Accra, thence to take their passage home. On this occasion, though the river was high and the current ran fast, if the engine had been sound there would have been nothing to fear, for the launch could easily have been kept in the quieter waters by the bank till she made the town. They spun along without the crew showing any alarm, and the engine still worked. Only the French agent, well accustomed to the journey up and down the river, felt uneasy; he knew they were too far out, and he also knew the weakness of the engine. He repeatedly remarked that if he had known how bad the river was he would never have come. At last Add showed up on the far right bank, and the river began to widen. The steersman put the helm hard over ; and then, as the launch turned her nose across the stream, the engine broke down! She swung round, the Hausa in the surf-boat described a half-circle about her, and they all began to float sideways down to the bar, now plainly visible. There was no doubt as to their peril. No help could be looked for from the town, and the noise as well as the aspect of that terrible bar showed what they had to expect if they reached it. While they were still gazing they heard a splash. Looking round, they saw that the crew—the engine-boy and the steersman— -had jumped overboard and were trying to swim ashore. They were feeling the strong current, however, and made but litt!e headway. The exasperated Frenchman promptly picked up a small billet of wood and succeeded in hitting the fugitive helmsman on the ear. The Englishmen laughed, and applauded the shot,

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DOWN THE RIVER. 541 “THE EXASPERATED FRENCHMAN PROMETLY FICKED UP A SMALL BILLET OF Woop.” but ‘their faces soon grew grave again ; they had other things to think of. It was only too obvious that the crippled launch was driving straight on to the bar, the thunderous crashes of whose awtul waves filled the air. Soon they had caught up the surf-boat, with the motionless Hausa, and the two boats floated down jammed together. No one said very much, but quickly they hauled out the puny anchor from the bows, fastened on an extra length of chain, and threw it over. The Hausa swung down stream to the length of his tow-rope, while the anchor first dragged, then caught, and for one critical moment held the launch motionless. But it was too light for the work, and presently, while the whites waited anxiously, the launch began to drift again, gradually increasing her pace .as the relentless current bore her onwards, till the surf- boat was again astern of them. And moment by moment the bar grew nearer, the thunder of its deadly surges more distinct. Feverishly the sheriff and the police officer ran forward to collect everything heavy they could find, in the desperate hope that by fasten- ing weight on to the anchor they might perhaps manage to pull the launch up even yet. After some search they found a large bag, which they crammed with bits of iron, spanners, and other odds and ends, including even their revolvers. They were hauling on the anchor chain in frantic haste when Phillips chanced to look behind him, and gave vent to an excited excla- mation. There was the Frenchman a hundred yards away, seated in the little canoe and paddling for dear life! But instead of sitting in the centre, the frightened man was too far aft, so that the little craft's bows were right out of the water. He whirled round and round help- lessly, in spite of his furious efforts to keep the boat’s head straight. Strive as he would, -the canoe drifted downwards. It looked as if nothing could save him, and he seemed likely to reach the bar before the launch he had abandoned. “He’s done for,” said the police officer, and in his remark there was a distinct note of grim satisfaction. ‘The sheriff, however, could hardly hear what his companion said for the ever- increasing thunder of the surf. > The huge breakers were flinging themselves on the bar until it looked like a large white wall topped by a heavy cloud of spray. The anchor was scarcely dragging now, merely sliding along the bottom, for the current was momentarily gaining in force. As fast as it

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542 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “STRIVE AS HE WOULD, THE CANOE DRIFTED DOWNWARDS.” stuck in the sand the inexorable pull of the launch dragged it out. ‘They went steadily on, now quicker, then again more slowly; but always drifting nearer to their death. By this time the two men could see excited crowds running from the town. ‘They saw many canoes push off in the hope of rescuing them, only to turn back in despair when the paddlers felt the strength of the stream. Of the Frenchman they could see nothing ; he had either gone on to the bar, or was indistinguishable in the glare upon the water. The sun was now shining for the first time that day, tinting the mass of spray and vapour ahead with rainbow colours. ‘The bar was within a bare half mile now; the end was very near. A curious feeling of resignation came over the three men—the two Englishmen and the Hausa —and they sat down to wait for death. It would be short and sharp; these mountainous waves would do their work almost instantaneously. The Hausa, with impassive ebony face, stolidly chewed a kola nut. In response to a hail he refused to come on board the launch, and there seemed no reason why he should, even if he could get there. He and the white men were going to their death in company. Along the coast, on the verge of the sea, runs the Government telegraph line. It is, for various reasons, the best-abused Government institution in West Africa, but two men at least that day had reason to bless it. It being impossible to span the river at that point, the Telegraph Department had run a little cable, no thicker than a man’s thumb, across the bed of the river, and in this the dragging anchor caught, bringing the drifting launch up with a great swerve and jerk. The Hausa again swung down stream, and, while the frail cable held fast, the stout rope fastening the boat to the launch snapped. She spun round and round, half buried herself in the waves, and then rushed straight into the raging surf ! The hapless Hausa, courageous to the end, stood up, waved his hand in farewell, and dis- appeared. Neither he nor his boat were ever seen again. Meanwhile the launch was pulling and tugging at the cable like a trout on a fly-rod. She swung wildly to right and left, her bows nearly under water ; then she pulled straight ahead till the two men felt the cable twitch like a bow- string. Next the strain eased and she came back, only to plunge down again under the impetus of the racing torrent. ‘They sat still, waiting for the inevitable break, half mesmerized by the thunder of the bar and the imminence of death. Men’s minds work curiously at such moments. The matter that chiefly worried the sheriff just then; was.a deste to get even with 5 ( Pa)

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DOWN THE RIVER 543 ‘““THE HAPLESS HAUSA STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS HAND IN FAREWELL.” the French trader, whose desertion filled his mind to the exclusion of all other matters. His companion sat silent, staring stolidly at the surf, which seemed to reach out hungrily towards them. They kept no account of the passage of time, but many hours seemed to have passed when Phillips noticed that the strain on the cable was distinctly less, and that the launch was floating more easily. He did not dare to move, but managed by signs to convey this idea to his friend, who only shook his head despondently. But the sheriff was right. Though the inferno on the bar seemed to increase rather than diminish, the launch began first to cease her pulls on the cable, then to be at rest, and finally to float up the river. The tide had turned ! As the launch, now moving towards the bank, came over her anchor there was one gentle pull, and the cable that had so bravely borne the strain parted! Then she drifted off again, but this time to safety, leaving the deadly bar, cheated of its victims, far behind her. Two canoes, followed by many others, paddled stoutly towards them. In the first sat the Frenchman. In the second were the “crew” who had so basely deserted them ; they wisely stayed their craft some fifty yards from the launch. Their black faces shone, and their eyes and teeth glistened good wishes and congratulations. The Frenchman jumped on board, holding out his hand effusively. “Don’t,” said the sheriff, warningly, to the police officer, who had stepped forward angrily ; and the other stopped. But the Frenchman let his hand fall as he met the menacing glare in the Britisher’s eyes. “Tam glad you are safe, gentlemen,” he said, quietly. ‘Come on shore now.” He called to the other canoe to come alongside, but she did not move. “Come here!” shouted Phillips, savagely. His nerves were beginning to feel the terrible strain. “Not till master promises not to kill we,” 1eplied the engineer, cautiously. ‘Glad good master safe,” he added. ‘Master break my ear. Thank God!” “Oh, come on,” the sheriff shouted, in disgust. “Come on; it’s all right.” Leaving the crippled launch in the hands of the beaming crew, they paddled ashore. Not much was said, but each man realized in his own mind that for what seemed an eternity of time he had looked death squarely in the eyes. Had that sorely-tried cable parted ere the tide turned, this story would never have been written.

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: WALKING 5 TICKS Grow A chatty description of the quaint “vegetable walking-stick” industry of Jersey. This sunny isle rejoices in the possession of a remarkable cabbage, which apparently cherishes the ambition of becoming a kind of universal provider. Reaching sometimes to the height of seventeen or eighteen feet, it furnishes excellent walking-sticks, nutritious food for man and beast, and a substitute for butter-paper! The author gives some interesting facts about this useful plant and the brisk little trade that has grown up around it. UNNY JERSEY,” as the most popular of the Channel Islands is deservedly called by its inhabitants and the numerous visitors who " flock to its shores in quest of health and pleasure, can proudly boast of being one of Nature’s most favoured domains. Embraced, as it were, by the warm waters of the Gulf Stream, and well protected from the biting gusts from north and east by numerous hill-ranges, it enjoys a winter climate more favourable even than that of many noted winter- resorts in the South of France. Although not possessed of the azure skies and the wealth of sun that make some of the latter places the points of attraction for those who flee the discomforts of an English winter, Jersey claims a higher yearly record of sunshine than any part of England. Little wonder is it, then, that the soil of this happy island works seeming miracles and pro- duces fruits and vegetables which are the envy of many a struggling farmer who has no benefi- cent Gulf Stream to aid him in his endeavours to cope successfully with his foreign rivals. This little paradise likewise brings forth a plant as curious as any that has been given to man- kind to utilize in any manner it may think fit. This plant is one of the members of the wide-branched family of the cabbage; but the Jersey cabbage differs from all its brothers and sisters inasmuch as it is not merely an ordinary ~ vegetable, destined to satisfy the appetite of hungry man, but has greater ambitions and abilities, which place it far above the level of its unaspiring relatives. To be eaten and appreci- ated as a food by mankind is only one of its raisons d'étre; but the more important one is to supply our queer menfolk, who delight in burdening themselves with cumbersome walking- sticks, with fine specimens of this indispensable article. When you emerge from St. Heliers, Jersey’s capital, and wend your way through the numerous ever-verdant valleys, past the snug cottages and the flourishing farms, amid the luxuriance of vegetation you will behold in almost every farm or garden this useful cabbage plant, or “‘ chou-cavalier,” as the French-speaking natives of Jersey call it, standing proudly erect, with its tufted top towering above everything that grows in the fields except the trees. Here you may see a dozen of them sheltering the door of a little hut, there a big cluster grown to supply the cattle with food, and sometimes even

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WHERE WALKING-STICKS GROW. 545 From a Photo. by) a large stretch of land may have been given up to the cultivation of the “choux.” Occasion- ally, too, you may notice them placed in a line along the edge of a garden, forming a pictur- esque and tidy border and a quaint kind of fence. If it happens to be March or thereabouts you may see people engaged in selecting the finest specimens and cutting the tallest stalks deemed worthy of being transformed into beautiful walking-sticks, for this is the time of the year when the stump, after having been left in the A PLANTATION OF “ WALKING-STICK" CABBAGES. (the Author. ground over winter, has attained sufficient hard- ness to permit the manufacturer to continue the work Nature has commenced. But the trans- formation of the rough cabbage-stalks into walk- ing-sticks entails a great amount of labour. The stumps brought in from the farms are first placed in the shade till thoroughly dry, the quicker process of drying in the sun being impracticable on account of the sticks cracking. Large tanks of water await the dry sticks, and there they are left to soak till they become SELECTING THE TALLEST STALKS FOR CUTTING—PLANTS HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO REACH THE PHENOMENAL HEIGHT OF EIGHTEEN FEET! From a Photo, by the Author, Vol. xvii.— 69.

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546 | 2 ae q | 1 Sy rae Siege rai Ceo Sie te) From a Photo, by the Author. supple. This accomplished, the crooked parts are straightened, after which the pith is removed by means of long augers and when necessary replaced by plugs of wood for the purpose of keeping the bent parts straight. The ends are then pointed to receive the ferrule, and the surface having been smoothed down with glass- paper, three coatings of varnish bring the manu- facturer’s task to an end. The sticks having undergone this treat- ment are as strong and serviceable as they are light, and— what is of most im- portance to sellers and buyers alike — their appearance is attrac- tive, especially when adorned with the pretty silver top bear- ing the Jersey coat-of- arms. Thus it is not surprising that some of the tobacconists, finding it almost as paying to sell cabbage- sticks as to supply the wants of the smoker, have turned part of their business _ pre- mises into workshops, where the above described process of THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. manufacturing cabbage- sticks can be witnessed in its different stages. Mr. George Bishop, the largest manufacturer of Jersey’s local curiosity, has even turned the whole of his shop-window into a regular museum of cabbage - sticks, contain- ing some of the most perfect specimens that the Jersey cabbage- growers and his own hands and tools could produce. First and fore- most among his “ master- pieces” ranks “Jumbo,” the giant of cabbage- sticks, which can boast of such a height that even the tallest man in the world would find no use for him. Nevertheless many an admirer of “Jumbo” has wanted to become the possessor of this curiosity, but the owner has so far not felt inclined to part with the treasure that undoubtedly forms one of the sights of “Sunny Jersey,” and above all of his own shop-window. It was “Jumbo’s” head-quarters to which some years ago Lord Rosebery, when visiting the island, made his way, in order to procure a few of Jersey’s quaintest mementoes, and several 4 JERSEY SHOP-WINDOW FILLED WITH CABNAGE-STALK WALKING-STICKS. From a Photo. by the Author,

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WHERE WALKING-STICKS GROW. 547 Thus, while Jersey potatoes undoubtedly pay better, we see that this island is a good many thousands of pounds the richer for being able to produce a plant that grows walking-sticks, and which in this island reaches dimensions attained nowhere else. It is said that some particularly energetic and ambitious cabbages have established the wonderful record of eighteen feet ! This in itself is a feat that most other vegetables would sacrifice any of their qualities and powers for, but the Jersey cabbage appar- ently desires to make itself useful all round, to man and beast alike, for every bit of it, except perhaps the root, can be utilized—its stem as a walking-stick, its sprouts as a vegetable, and its leaves for feeding cattle and packing butter. Furthermore, as I have already mentioned, in its endeavours to be useful and ornamental at the same time it provides its grateful owner with quite a welcome variety in the way of a substitute for the ordinary garden hedge. The Jersey cabbage certainly has a future before it, if only a means could be discovered which would enable all the world to bring it to the height of perfection and stature it reaches in “Sunny Jersey.” “ JUMBO,” THE GIANT OF ITS TRIBE—ITS PROUD OWNER HAS REFUSED MANY TEMPTING OFFERS FOR THIS SPLENDID SPECIMEN From a Photo, by the Author. of “ Jumbo’ small brothers have been selected for presentation to the Prince of Wales. “Jumbo” him- self, however, remains true to his allegiance and an ornament to his native isle, though some day, perhaps, he may have to make way for a still greater rival. As to the origin of the idea of turning cabbages into walking - sticks little is known, so far as I could ascertain, except that it was more than forty years ago that this peculiar in- dustry was started. Since then many thousands of sticks have left the island, travelling to almost every part of the world, and according to an estimate some thirty thousand sticks are sold annually at prices ranging between two shillings and ten shillings. From a Photo, by\ “THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT,” Ithe Author,

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The “Yellow Devil.” -By E. P. WHALLEY. The home-keeping reader, living in a highly civilized country, sometimes finds it hard to realize adequately the desperate position of a man hopelessly lost in the wilds. This graphically-told story may, perhaps, bring home to him more clearly the full horror and peril of such a situation, a brief experience of which has driven many a hardy pioneer mad. [~~ | fon GOUGH balanced half a dollar on the middle joint of his first finger } and the nail of his thumb. “ Protracted agony or “Sudden death,” I cried, as the coin spun into the air. ‘ Heads!” “Heads it is,” said Gough. ‘What’ll you do?” “Stay where I am,” I replied. “Right you are,” he answered. “Then I'll be off to Da Capo first thing to-morrow morn- ing. I’m sick of this camp, anyway, since all the game cleared out.” We had been camped on the shore of the Lower Arrow Lake, in British Columbia, for some three weeks or more, enjoying good sport and splen- did weather. Deer had been plentiful, bear were to be had on occasion, grouse swarmed in the adjacent park-lands, there were plenty of trout and char in the lake. The projecting ridge- pole of our tent had always been adorned by some substantial addi- tion to our lar- der, until, in a single day, all the game in the district seemed to vanish, and at the same time our own supplies ran short. We were out of flour, baking powder, beans, and bacon, the four essentials for luxury in a hunting camp. “CHE PADDLED AWAY ON HIS HUNDRED-MILE TRIP.” One of us must make for the nearest town to renew our stores, which the turn of the coin had decided was for Gough to do. “Good luck, old chap!” I cried, as he got into the old dug-out canoe we had rescued from a pile of driftwood and repaired. “If I’m not here when you come back I shall be at the Fan Handle. I shall move there to-day to see if there’s any more game up that way than there is down here. _ S'long.” “Be good to yourself,” he shouted, cheerily, as he paddled away on his hundred-mile trip. Before he was out of sight I had made up into a “pack” a pair of blankets, an axe, a frying-pan, a tin “billy,” a small canvas fly, and what food re mained in camp, had fastened the door of the tent, thrown enough sand on the fire to put it out, and was ready for my ten-mile walk to the Fan Handle. Together we had visited that part of the dis- trict some weeks before, when we had marked it down as being a great country to hunt through. The place we had named the “Fan Handle ” was some eight miles inland and west of the lake, ata point at which converged ten or twelve large and small valleys, whose outer ends stretched forth

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THE along the lake shore for a distance of perhaps fifteen miles. Viewed from a height this tract of country would have looked like an open fan, the sticks of which all met at the point for which I was now making. It was a lovely day in early October. The first frost had nipped the leaves, which had begun to fall, allowing the hunter a chance of a better shot than is afforded him when the trees are in their summer dress. But no game was to be seen, much less to be shot at. For the whole distance of my walk not a single living thing did I set eyes on. Not even the chirp of the ever-cheerful chipmunk was to be heard. In spite, then, of the bright sunshine, the varied beauty of the country, and the bracing air, a sense of unaccustomed lone- liness crept into my heart, and I found myself almost wishing that I had made the trip to town instead of sending Gough. It was nearly noon when the spot at which I meant to spend the next few days was reached. Opening on toa flat, park-like plateau were the dozen inland ends of the valleys, their watersheds resem- bling so many gigan- tic furrows cut by a monster plough. These furrows ran east and west. For a mile and a half they debouched upon the margin of the plain, the mouth of each an ideal camping-ground. Selecting one at random I stretched the small canvas fly, cut branches for my bed, wood for the fire, and emptied my pockets of what articles I had placed there for easy carriage-—a box of cartridges, an uncut plug of tobacco, a packet of matches, carefully stowed in a tin case, and other odds and ends. Soon the place was home-like and comfortable, and, as I never made a midday meal when I was in the woods, I started, with my old °44 Marlin rifle and a small sheath-knife, for a ramble, in hopes of bagging something, were it but a squirrel, to add to my scanty store of food. Within a hundred yards of camp I ran on to the fresh trail of a deer. With my eyes upon the ground I followed it for miles, lured on by continually recurring signs of the creature’s nearness, until it began to grow dusk. Soon it “YELLOW DEVIL.” 549 became so dark as to render farther pursuit impossible. Reluctantly I turned towards my - camping-ground, only to find my way much impeded by a belt of ‘dead-falls,” which, in my eagerness in following the deer, I had hardly noticed. Years ago a forest-fire had swept the country over which the half-burnt, half-rotted trees now lay thickly scattered. The deer-trail, which had been plain enough by day, was almost impossible in the darkness. A night in the open had no terrors for me. 1 had matches, and the weather, though cold, was dry. A slab of bark, a forked stick or two, a few boughs, with a fire in front, would make a shelter good enough for anyone; but I was hungry, very hungry. The breakfast of that morning had not been the hearty meal we generally made of it, and since then I had not “(1 MADE MY SHELTER AND MY FIRE, AND FILLED MY PIPE WITH TOBACCO-DUST.” tasted food, so for an hour I struggled towards my camp, but finally gave up, made my shelter and my fire, filled my pipe with tobacco-dust I had found in the corners of my pockets—I should have had a quarter of a plug with me, but remembered, too late, that I had given it to Gough that morning—and, after a supper of water, fell asleep. It was bitterly cold. In spite, too, of many drinks I felt exceedingly hollow. Waking at intervals to throw a stick upon the fire, I would take another drink, until I found there did not seem to be sufficient heat in my body to warm the water, which lay deadly cold within me, and I had come away without the tin cup, usually carried at my belt, which would have heated water for me,

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550 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE After a restless, broken night I suddenly awoke in the early morning to find myself star- ing into the eyes of a fine black-tailed buck. Before I could disengage a small branch which had become entangled with the trigger-guard of my rifle, my breakfast, with a snort of surprise and an indignant stamp of its forefeet, bounded into the brush, whither, having no more toilet to make than itself, I instantly gave chase. Mile after mile I followed it, always close behind, sometimes even catching a glimpse of it, never long enough, however, for a steady aim, and I was by now far too weak and tired to risk a chance shot. Presently all trace of the deer was lost, whilst not another living creature was to be seen. As a rule deer swarmed there, as one could see from the deep paths they travelled in; bear signs were there, too, but all of some days ago. Resting for awhile in the grateful and pleasant warmth of the sun, I looked around for the long stems of the tiger lily (whose roots, roasted or boiled, are good as any onion, though but unsavoury eaten raw), or fungus which might be fit to eat ; but none such were to be seen. The frost had cut down the lily stalks ; the fire of years ago had destroyed all trees old enough to bear the fungi, for, outside the plateau of park-land near my camp, there were no trees of a greater age than ten or fifteen years. After a good, long rest, during which I think I must have dozed, I got on my feet again, feeling wobbly and nervous. Somehow the idea took posses- sion of me that the district was haunted. Otherwise, I argued, why had the game vanished, all but the one deer that I had followed? I must have been a little light- headed by this time, for even this animal now seemed almost a creature of my im- agination. The best thing for me to do, I decided, was to make with all the speed I could command for my camp in the valley. It was with a tired, in- different feeling that I once more turned my face east- ward. For three hours I plodded along the “back trail.” Half the time I went without conscious thought, the other half I did but think that I was tired and hungry, and sick of it all—sick of the everlasting burnt logs beneath my feet ; of the saplings whose branches whipped my face ; of my rifle, which now weighed nearer forty pounds, it seemed, than eight. Once I caught myself laughing heartily. Thinking what it was about, I found that I had been wondering what the father of the egregious Swiss Family Robinson would have discovered in such a case as mine. Here were no potatoes growing wild, nor sago palms, nor fat grubs within their pith. Ah! A happy thought! Many a time had I dug great, luscious fellows from a rotten stump to use as fishing bait. On the nearest rotting tree I fell to work with my sheath-knife, but, though their runnels were there, the frost had driven the grubs themselves deep into the sound wood of the centre, whither I was too weak to follow them. It was a bitter disappointment. A disappointment, mind you, not to find those sleek, fat, white grubs! I have doubts now if I should have eaten them, but then ! With my mind still dwelling on old Robinson I went on my weary way. Without a moment's warning the boa-constrictor which swallowed their donkey appeared. There was the glitter of the sun upon its scales! Even through the haze before my eyes its sinuous movement was plainly to be Blindly I fired at the advancing monster. seen. “BLINDLY 1 FIRED AT THE ADVANCING MONSTER.”

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THE With the shot my eyes cleared, and my serpent dissolved itself into a train, eight or ten inches wide, of great black ants, slowly travel- ling across the country, swerving where no turn was needed, mounting obstacles where a detour would have been of service, but each following in the track of its leader as exactly as though the path were well defined. With childish pleasure I watched them for awhile, until their endlessness reminded me how long it was since I had eaten. It was now nearly thirty-six hours since I had tasted food, in which time I had tramped more than as many miles. Though weak and tired, I was perfectly sensible whilst taking the trouble to be so, but the moment I let myself go light- headed dreaminess swept down upon me. Presently the stretch of “dead-falls” came to an end, and the more open country, with its growth of larger trees, spread out before me. The thought that I could not now be far from camp raised my spirits, and it was an almost jaunty, though still stumbling, step that carried me towards the valleys’ mouths. Haste was needful, too, for the early October dusk was closing down upon me. Full of confi- dence I went towards the valley where my outfit had been left. It was not there! What non- sense! Here was the little creek, the patch of sal-lal, the steep “hog-back” of the watershed, the deep cut of the narrow valley, the solitary bull-pine. It was inconceivable that anyone should have stolen my things! Here they must be. But still—could I possibly be mistaken? Hardly ; I would try the next valley farther on. Three hundred yards to the north was—the little creek, the steep “hog-back,” the deep valley, the solitary pine. Three hundred yards again to the north—the same. But no white canvas gleamed through the darkness to call me home.* At this, with disappointment and hunger, I lost my head, running full speed, stumbling, falling, crawling on my hands and knees in an agony of hurry, shouting in a poor, thin voice Te is difficult, if not impossible, for the resident in a country whose surface is ‘covered with roads, footpaths, hedges, and walls to realize, in the slightest degree, the utter lack of landmarks presented by a forest whose glades have been unvisited, or are un- touched, by man, A wanderer in such a plice must be ever on the watch for small peculiarities—the growth of trees, outcrop of rock, or for some salient point of the landscape—and must also carry in his mind, unconsciously perhaps, but none the less cl of his course, with annotations of such, landmarks guide him on the return journey. In. time this capat so developed as to enable the i dkman to recognise, even after the lapse of time, a small patch of country, and to assign to it its relative position in the whole district, as Su acity man will identify the street in which he stands, minute signs as are available be, through haste, preoccupation, or illness, unnoticed, then within the compass of a hundred yards the lie of the land is altogether different—and one is lost. In the case of which I speak, a man even in the full possession of his senses might easily have been deceived, so similar in size and appearance were the sharp hills and the small valleys, whilst the trees had grown in so regular a formation as to almost convey the impression that they had been planted by the hand of man.—Tum AUTHOR. “YELLOW DEVIL.” 551 1 did not know for my own, up and down the level stretch of land. Everywhere I saw the solitary pine, the little creek, the sal-lal patch, the valley’s yawning gap, but never a sign of tent ar camping place. Bruised, battered, and spent, I fell at length behind a log, and was asleep immediately. I awoke sotbing—a dry, hard sob—and bitterly reproached myself for crying like a baby. But even as I taunted myself with lack of manliness I fell asleep again, to dream of bacon sizzling in the pan, of the “billy” steaming on the fire. Again I awoke with a sob, to sleep once more and dream that I had eaten, but that a hungry child was near, crying for food. I could give it none. Still the child cried, until I once more awoke, sobbing with sorrow for the child, and helplessness. Hush! There was a child! And crying, too! Rising to my feet I peered into the pitch darkness and, listening with all my might, tried to locate the sound, tried to decide if it were real—if I were wide awake. It was hard to tell. I groped for my rifle, but could not find it in the dark, or I had meant to click the hammer to learn if I could hear the sound, for dreams, I knew, are silent things. There it was again! I was awake, then. There was a child, and not far off. There! The weak, querulous wail of a puling infant. Poor little thing! I must find it—I must. But what could I do for it then? Never mind. A companion might ease its loneliness, and mine as well. By now I was stumbling in the direction whence the cry had come. ‘There it was—more to the right. “All right, baby! I’m coming, old chap ! I'm coming !” I shouted. There again! More to the right still. Queer it should move! The whisper of a rustle in the brush. The whimper again. The sound of a deep breath quickly expelled. Heavens! In a flash I knew the lost child that made that cry! I remembered all that I had ever known or heard of the puma (variously known as cougar, mountain lion, catamount, panther, and half-a- dozen other local names), the most insidious and most cowardly of all the cat tribe. A beast that never strikes but when it is sure to kill; that values a sound skin more, even, than a full stomach. A creature which usually drops from the bough of a tree on to the back of its victim, and which, when game is scarce or shy, or is stricken with one of those sudden panics to which, for no apparent reason, deer seem liable, or when the country is too thinly tim- bered to allow of its customary methods of hunting, will employ any artifice to obtain its

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552 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. prey rather than make a bold attack. An animal endowed with a tireless patience, a tremendous vitality, the strength of a lion, the formidable equipment of tooth and claw of a tiger, and the puling voice of a feeble child. My hair bristled with fright. Fear congealed in ice-cold drops upon my face. A clammy sweat oozed from my every pore. Iwas sick with fright, for out there—somewhere in the night—lurked the “yellow devil” that RE LURKED THE LLOW DEVIL THAT HAD SCARED ALI. THE GAME Away.” had scared all the game away. Here was I, spent with hunger and fatigue, my rifle lost in the darkness—it might have been a mile away for all the chance there was of finding it just then—with nothing but a knife which I had grown too weak to use ; and there, in the dark- - ness too, was the skulking, cowardly beast, the puma, which never follows on the trail of man but when it knows that he is spent or ill; and it can diagnose a case as well as any doctor of them all. A “yellow devil” that lures the dying man by its child-cries to spend his last breath for a poor, lost babe, and when he falls or stumbles in a last effort to help the one more helpless than himself, a leap from the vantage-ground of the black night, a stroke of the ripping, rending claws, and the deadly work is done. The beast, I knew, could see my every movement. Did I but wink an eyelid, that devil in the dark knew it—knew it for the twitch of fear. I could hardly stand—but stand I must. I tried to whistle, but my fear-dried lips and tongue refused to formulate the sound. Heaven knows how long I stood there, staring into the black wall of night, fancying I saw a thousand moving forms, at first dim and shadowy, then. more defined and clear, glaring at me with yellow, fiery eyes. How long I stood there listen- ing—listening till the pulsations of my blood were audible—I do not know. Then, slowly, the crowd- ing yellow phantoms merged into one sand-coloured brute, which, with a baby-cry, stole off amongst the trees. And it was day! There lay my rifle, with the hoar-frost sparkling on the barrel. I fell upon it, hugged it to my breast, and talked to it as though it had been a child of mine, long lost, but found. I must have slept or fainted then, for it was high noon when next I knew of anything. My first thought was of my camp, my second of the puma. Neither was in sight. I staggered to my feet to find the one and life, or the other and death—either was now a matter of indifference. I knelt presently to drink at some small pool, and as I rose a fierce blow upon the back flung me, face downwards, in the water. The puma was upon me, I thought, instinc- tively. All day he had watched me, and now his claws were in my flesh. I should have drowned or died of fright, I know not which, had not my ears been above the surface of the stream. Listening to hear the rending of my flesh, I heard, in the distance, the puma’s cry. I raised myself feebly on my hands. Again I felt the blow, but this time not so violent. Moving cautiously aside, I saw the broken, rot- sharpened bough that had caught me as I rose and caused my terror. Crawling to an open space, I rolled over with my back against a log, fainting or dozing once again. When my eyes next opened the sun was setting. Everything ‘was very quiet and un- utterably peaceful. Everything was hazy, it is

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THE true, but still bright, and very happy. A quiet, long sleep—a dreamless, restful sleep—was very near. My muscles gently stretched themselves and my jaws were opening for a yawn when my eyes, clear for the moment, fell upon a deer’s horns forking from a patch of brush, not twenty yards away. ‘They meant nothing to me —nothing. And yet—— With a feeble start the thought trickled — into my mind that there were food and life near to those horns. But where? Pain- ful, tiresome reflection con- vinced me that it must be underneath and to the left. With infinite pains I raised my rifle, al- ready loaded, resting it upon a log in front of me, and “YELLOW DEVIL. 553 Smacking my lips, I fell asleep, but only for a brief time, for it was still light when I awoke. My hands and face were sticky with the yet undried blood, but, by the feel of me, I might have had a good night's rest. alive again. I felt almost Cutting meat from the deer, I looked around for a place to light a fire to cook it on. At the first glance my eyes fell upon a pile of sticks, ready laid for light- ing, my can- vas fly, my blankets. Not twenty yards upon the farther side of the patch wherein — the deer had met his death was my camp! And I had all but died not forty yards from food and home! At noon next day a shot _ startled me from my couch, to find Ben Gough pulled the returned, trigger. A firing a second frightful blow shot into the upon the heart of the shoulder, and puma, which the earth he had found rocked, the lying, gorged, heavens _ fell “ q SHOT STARTLED ME FROM MY COUCH.” by the deer’s down, and, side, and amidst the tumult, the body of a deer leapt high and fell with a crash. I crawled towards it. Presently, in a dreamy state of blissfulness, I found myself swallowing warm lumps of a delicious flavour — the blood-hot, reeking liver of the deer. Oh! it was good! Vol. xvii.—70. which now, the centre of a whirl of dust and flying grass, lay dying, so near that fragments of the grass and twigs fell upon me. And then the full horror of the things that I had suffered swept over me, and I told the amazed Ben Gough the story I have tried to set forth here.

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By S. HeppleTHwalre. The amusing experience of a well-known black-and-white artist who decided to take the ‘work cure” in its most drastic form by signing on as a seaman aboard a steamer. Of sailoring he knew nothing; he wanted work—and, as the narrative shows, his desire was abundantly gratified. T is no uncommon thing amongst present-day novelists to find men who have had experience, and hard experience, of the sea; but I do not know of a single instance in which a black-and-white artist has suddenly laid down his pen and “gone to sea.” Many, no doubt, have gone to look; but it was my novel experience at the beginning of this year, for- saking for the nonce such effeminate things as pens and drawing inks, to “sign on” as able seaman, and work my passage to the Congo and back. Some account of my adventure may prove, therefore, not uninteresting. My engagement as cartoonist on a weekly journal—an appointment I had held for about four years—terminated in December of last year, and a month’s idleness had reduced me, mentally, to a state of dry rot. I had lots of work which I wanted to do, but, being under no sort of compulsion but my own sweet will, a reluctance to begin work of any kind finally developed into an unnatural disability. I spent hours staring at my card; if I achieved a line dissatisfaction set in before I could set down a second, when, usually, I flung the thing aside and, locking my studio door, would slip round to my club. For a time it was enough that I attached to my door a card bearing the untruthful legend, “ Back in an hour”; but when facetious messages left by disappointed callers began to appear in pencil on my notice, and it dawned on me that I had not been “back” for two days, my conscience misgave me. But still I found myself quite unable to work. I must not charge everything to the artistic temperament ; no doubt there were other causes at work to produce in me this fatal state of lethargy. My bank balance, for example, had shrunk to a negligible quantity ; besides, I was out of an engagement. Things were at this pass when a journalistic friend and former colleague walked into my studio and diagnosed my sad case at a glance. He began to tell me of a man he knew, a professional humorist, who had just returned from a sanatorium in Essex where he had passed a month undergoing the “rest cure.” He also showed me an article, written by the man, describing the treatment. The most interesting feature about the affair to my mind, however, was the fact that the patient had carried on his work just the same, forwarding his “copy” by post ; indeed, it seemed that he must, so far from “resting,” have worked twice as hard as under ordinary conditions. “ What you want,” said my friend, anticipating my own thought, “is the zor cure; change of work, if you can get it, bul, in any case, work.” I may say that I got it—with a vengeance. That night I went to a music-hall, but long before the performance was over my mind was

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TO THE CONGO AND BACK AS AN “A.B.” 555 made up; my resolution was taken, and I left the hall and caught the next train home. 1 would go to sea! My trunk was old enough to pass muster. Into this I flung a couple of old jackets, one rather faded waistcoat, two vests, and a pair of heavily-patched boots. The following day I completed my arrangements and afterwards took a cab to Liverpool Street, where I arrived in time for the boat-train to Harwich, and so reached Antwerp on Sunday morning. I had heard somewhere and at some time that Antwerp was the easiest place to sail from, and had elicited sufficient information to go upon, at any rate. I did not want to know too much ; I was consumed with the fever of adven- ture, and I wanted to find things out for myself. I knew that I could get a ship either from a sailors’ home or from une of the numerous boarding-houses in the skippers’ quarter, and I had already decided upon the latter, as likely to offer a wider experience of the picturesque. But of seamanship I knew nothing. I had crossed to the Continent often, I was quite at home on the saloon deck of a pleasure-steamer, and a younger brother who had served an apprentice- ship to the sea had taught me how to splice a rope, so that I could make running and other knots with fair proficiency. But of actual sea- faring the fact remains that I knew nothing. So much the better, thought I; I had everything to learn. It may have been that, lurking in some darkened corner of my mind, was the coward thought that, should anything go wrong, I had only to throw up the sponge, and confess myself no sailor but the adventurous wight I was, to be carried off to the saloon and lionized for the rest of the voyage. I hesitate to charge mysclf with this baseness, for it was at least my chief concern not to “give myself away”; I was athirst for novelty, but I had no great wish to display my ignorance. Having been directed to the skippers’ quarter, I entered one of the many’ boarding- houses in which the locality abounds and called for a “ bock,” following up my order with an inquiry as to whether the ‘“ boss” was about. This gentleman soon made his appearance, and I ventured to ask quietly if he was full up. “Got your book ?” he asked, laconically. “No,” said I. “ Lost it.” “What ship were you on last?” was his next question. “Leyland Brothers, of Liverpool,” I re- turned, without a blush, at the same time flinging down a sovereign for a week’s board and bed. This had the effect of relieving me for the time from further awkward questions; and I handed over the four francs change to be drunk by the company present. It was not a cheerful company, certainly ; they appeared to pass the time either in gazing gloomily at the clock or sitting round a small fire-stove in the centre of the room. One man, less resigned than the rest, was endeavouring to tell his own fortune with cards. But I was soon on the friendliest terms with the boarding master, for, clapping me on the back, he assured me how glad he was that I was in time for dinner. Upon the details of my first day at the board- ing-house I have no fancy to dwell. It was a pretty trying experience, for I stood in fear every moment of betrayal by my ignorance of the customs of the place ; not that the maritime intelligence is alert, but that it is unsleeping. I spent in all ten days at the boarding-house. The master assured me confidently that it would be some days before he could find me a ship, and I passed most of my time in visiting the various mission-rooms of the quarter, where the beach-combers drag out their days of waiting. I sought to vary the monotony by acting as bar- tender now and then; and the impression I made upon the master’s sister, a widow with an eye to the main chance, was, I believe, by no means unfavourable. But there was another in the field, and I remembered suddenly that I was but a poor sailorman, without a ship and with all his savings gone. The loss of my “ book” was a matter which troubled the boss considerably. He suggested my writing to the Board of Trade, and but for the fact that, for no reason that I could con- ceive, he seemed to have taken very kindly to me, I might have experienced a difficulty in finding a ship. I was not so much a stranger in Antwerp as might, perhaps, be supposed, but a city is one thing to an artist in search of local colour, and another thing altogether to the sailor in want of a ship. For this is what I had now become, say what I might. If I was not really going to sea I must wire to London at once for money, for my funds were almost exhausted, and there was still no news of the ship. If, on the other hand, I meant to carry out my project, I must bear up against the atmosphere of the boarding-house, which had begun to oppress me with its gloom. There, day after day, sat the mournful group about the stove; there, penniless and forlorn, they lolled and gazed at the clock. The arrival of a homeward-bounder alone relieved the cheerless monotony ; the loungers came stealthily forward, one after another, like shadows from their hiding, and for awhile the pulse of life stirred faintly, only to drop back slowly to its former lethargy.

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556 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. On the ninth day the boss announced that he had found me a ship. “What is she ?” I asked, carelessly. “ Belgian steamer,” was the reply. “Where bound ?” said I, affecting the tone I had by this time caught. “Congo,” he replied, laconically, glancing at an advertisement for cheap coffins. “ How long?” I continued, with no favour- able prepossession. “One month twenty-three days.” Then, with a sudden burst of generosity, he added : “Look ’ere, if you come back, I'll get you a better one next time.” If I came back! To say the least of it, it was not inspiriting ; nevertheless, I closed with his offer and went down to take a look at the ship. This was even less encouraging. I found her undergoing repairs, her bows having been stove in by a collision. I had not yet secured the berth, of course, but next morning found me one of a score or so hanging about the quay- side, waiting to see the mate. I had obtained a permit from the English Consul to sail under the Belgian flag, but still I looked like being passed over. By an oversight I escaped the medical examination, though on this score I knew I had nothing to fear. Then the mate ordered me and another to stand by, and I fancied he eyed me suspiciously. However this may have been, he told me ultimately that I could sign on, and a few strokes of the pen sufficed to make me Able Seaman S. H. Hebblethwaite, No. 70,436, of the ss. Philippevil/e, bound from Antwerp to the Congo. I signed on and took my advance note. I might be going to certain death, but I did not care. I was at least going to see things and do things that I had never seen or done in my life before. Work was what I had been recommended, and even in the prospect of it I was somehow conscious of a new sting in my blood. Doctors alone know what they owe to this blind faith in a remedy. I felt that I wanted to begin then and there. I need have been in no such haste, how- ever. Two days later we sailed, and I say again there was no lack of work on that voyage. The shipping-master discounted my advance note for two francs, afterwards deducting five francs for shipping fees and another five for his “runner.” The boarding-house master, who had kindly accompanied me to the Water Scouts, where we signed on, next led me back to his house, where I settled my reckoning with him and (financially speaking) breathed again. His wife had, in the meantime, procured me tobacco, Sunlight soap, matches, and a “ three- franc-fifty” mattress. Nor should I forget—as, indeed, how could I (for never would it cut) ?—a so-called sheath-knife. I say the sheath-knife would not cut ; let me add that neither would the matches strike. But here was the real trouble : I put the remaining ‘money ” in my pocket, and went in search of a plain soda at the Falmouth for Orders. Whether it was on my way thither or my way back will remain for ever a mystery ; but the fact is that the money got lost, and I was forced to abandon all hopes of sea-boots, oilskins, or blankets for the voyage. For, after the shipping-master’s fees, my bill, and a “bottle of wine for the boarding-master’s wife and servants” (which, by the way, they never see), my cash balance had not been a big one at best. ; I went aboard next morning, and almost immediately my troubles began. I was ordered ““THE BO'SUN BEGAN BY INQUIRING UNKINDLY WHETHER I THOUGHT I HAD HOLD OF A CRUTCH,”

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TO THE CONGO AND BACK AS AN aft to buy a jersey, cap, and ribbons of the company. I had taken a month’s advance note, and as only twenty-three days’ pay now remained, it began to dawn upon me that even Lloyd’s would not have cared to underwrite my financial outlook. The next day I made my first appearance on deck with a holystone and broom, with which implements the saloon deck was to be washed down. Laying the latter aside, I, with the other seamen, commenced pushing and pulling the stone over the deck, which had been previously sprinkled with sand and water by the bo’sun. It was early morning—dark and freezing cold; and I must have shown that I felt the change after my “AB” 557 following him; then I climbed on to his shoulder, dropped on to the other side, and watched him nervously. He took a couple of turns round the first of the derricks, and then, clambering down, left me to finish the job. I did finish it, but how, that little sailor-loving cherub which, we are told, sits up aloft alone could tell. Long before I had finished there had been a slow. creeping of the skin about my forehead, and away, suddenly, had gone my cap. It fell, fortunately, on deck, whither, with a sense of infinite relief, I presently descended. But long before this 1 had ruined my beautiful new jersey, helping to haul in the wet wire hawsers,.-as we slued away from the quay. saloon-deck experience as pas- senger from Harwich to Ant- werp, for the bo’sun began by inquiring unkindly whether I thought I had hold of a crutch. However, when the deck had been stoned to his satis- faction, he told me to pass my stone down on deck and yet the hose along. The latter, I may say, was freely punctured, and he sent me in front with a broom to brush away the sand, clear the scuppers, etc., while he pro- ceeded to wash down everything within reach—not excepting myself. By the time the saloon deck, quarter deck, fo’c’s'le head, and well deck were finished I had ceased to regard my morning ablution as a necessity. We were allowed forty-five minutes for break- fast (when lucky), and at eight forty-five would be heard the bo’sun’s voice, which grew ruder and always more rude as the voyage proceeded, calling to us to “ Turn to.” The ordinary seaman, by the way, usually found it wasn’t advisable to “answer back” when dealing with this officer. He had always a job ready for me the moment I appeared, and I well remember my first order after sailing. It was, “Get aloft and lash the derricks.” The bo’sun swarmed aloft, I “(THR ORDINARY SEAMAN USUALLY FOUND IT WASN'T ADVISABLE * TO ‘ANSWEK BACK’ WHEN DEALING WITH THIS OFFICER.” Amilitary band, followed by a number of the townspeople, ap- peared on the quay-side about half an hour before the time of sailing, and we sailed away to the sound of martial Strains, the band following us in a tender some dis- tance down the river. The vessel, which carried the mail, some officers, mission- aries, and colon- ists (who are granted a second- class passage), ra was in trading principally for : the King—hence our regal departure. Our working time was nom- inally five-thirty to five-thirty till Teneriffe was made, and thence onward five to five. Lots were drawn for the watch, and we settled down for the voyage. My first real “change of work” was getting down the gins ‘into the hold; it was a real change, but changes came now, not in single spies, but in battalions. Till we got to Teneriffe the chief features of existence were stone-cold coffee and potato-wash in the mornings, a full night’s rest but once a week (for which we lived), the unceasing voice of the bo’sun, with (for me at least) hairbreadth escapes by the score. I would be sent aft, for instance, to clean down the paint over the side, after coaling. Getting down to the stage

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558 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. was bad enough, as, not being used to ropes (except for bathing), my legs got badly “barked,” but when, with fearful temerity, I ventured to ask for a life-line, I was flung a couple of fathoms of spun-yarn, which settled round my neck like a noose. The parsimony, indeed, with which lifelines are dealt out struck me as ludicrous. I was asked on one occasion to sign for one; the bo’sun produced a penny account-book and I signed on a blank page. Cleaning down the ship’s side —after coaling —was bad enough, with the “sue-gee” (an anti-fouling preparation) “y FOUND 1 HAD TO ABANDON THE CHAIR AND CLIMB TO THE Tor.” burning my hands till, afler a day or two, they became almost raw; but when I was ordered to get a bo’sun’s chair and “sue-gee,” wash, and paint the foremast down, I confess I quailed somewhat. The order was accompanied by an awe-inspiring intimation that I should “be kept at it till it was pro- perly done.” Luckily, my nerves are good, or I should never have got to that topmast, for, after being hauled to the top of the gant-line block, I found that I had to abandon the chair and climb to the top. I took a swift glance at the water below; it looked cold and Pee pitiless enough, but not so hard and cold i — as did the winches on deck. I WAS FLUNG A COUPLE OF FATHOMS OF SPUN-VARN, WHICH SETTLED : ROUND MY NECK LIKE A NOOSE.” = * The wastes, steeped in “ sue-gee,”

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TO THE CONGO AND BACK AS AN which I was holding between my teeth, were beginning to scorch my lips horribly. Also, as the bo’sun had had frequent occasion to remind me, it is not a sailor’s business to think. Then, alas ! the wastes slipped from my teeth through them chattering so much —on account of the cold—and went swinging away to lee- ward, so that I had to descend for more. I got again to the mast- head, however, and somehow the awful job was done. Three days out a man had _his__leg broken, and witnessing the accident made me determined to avoid hospital, if possible. But I had a narrow escape in the chain- locker. The name floored me completely ; lockers were, in my mind, associated with school, and I believe I half expected to find a kind of box, in which something or other was kept. They will be henceforth —asso- ciated, I think, with a too lurid vocabulary. I had descended too far in the darkness, and as I shinned up the chain I suddenly heard a voice calling to me to come out, as she was going to slip. Then I realized with a thrill of horror that the big chain was mov- ing with my weight. I have a dim recol- lection of something striking me ; next, the bo’sun was demanding angrily whether I meant to get a move on me, or whether I would prefer to see the mate. I did not wish to see the mate, and I had my reasons ; I was sure that the mate suspected me of being no sailor. any preference, I think I preferred painting, and I got enough of it before I had finished. “T HAVE A DIM RECOLLECTION OF SOMETHING STRIKING ME." If there was a value above what known attach to ornaments of silver and gold ; and I had soon quite a large circle of admirers. Moreover, to one who comes of ‘‘a nation of shopkeepers” there is an attractive market for “AB” 559 At Sierra Leone we shipped upwards of a hundred deck-boys (niggers), who signed on, through their headman, for twenty days, for which they would receive twenty shillings, less five shillings shipping fee paid to their ‘ boss.” Their work consisted chiefly of holystoning the deck, painting, scraping, etc., when at sea, and shifting cargo when in port. Rice was served them twice a day, viz. at eight- thirty a.m. and six- thirty p.m. ; and their meals were one long fight. Swarming round a large, red-hot iron tub, they would commence digging out the boiling rice with any old tin, basin, or can that they could steal or happened to be possessed of. After a time, and as hunger spurred them, out would come the belt of the rearmost — belts, sticks, rope-ends, and what not—and some- thing like a mélée would ensue. In the thick of this some humorist would turn on the steam valve; and back they would fall, battered and scalded, but game to the last. On reaching Matadi the boys experienced something of a hot time, working generally from four a.m. till one or two a.m. of the following day. I was glad that the boarding-master’s wife had provided me with a liberal supply of soap, for a bar of Sun- light has, in the eyes of the Matadi belles, some ladies I have

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560 ‘RETURNING FROM THE ENGLISH MISSION.” salt junk here. If you have saved your “ whack” of salt meat (you put it by in an old sack) you can generally dispose of it to advantage. By the time we reached Matadi my sack was nearly half full, and I made quite a respectable thing out THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. j of it. When your day’s work is finished you look out for customers from shore. A good salesman can get as much as fifty centimes for a piece that speaks for itself. I did. For my own part, I ate only on the voyage potatoes, potato-wash, and Congo soup. Sugar and butter generally ran out on the second day, which meant going without till the following Friday, commonly known as the “King’s birthday.” Sleep in the fo’c’s'le was hard enongh to get outward bound; coming back it was worse, what with the heat, the mosquitoes, insects, cockroaches, firemen singing hymns, dogs howling, monkeys chattering, parrots swearing, and the rats running over you in search of food. The only rest I got for some time was at the English Mission at Matadi, where I would drop in of an evening ; for there one is always sure of a welcome and a cooling drink—both worth the risk of a tricked back or the loss of a leg to a chance alligator lurking in the swamps. My hands, as I write, are still stained with the odious ‘“‘sue-gee”; the palms are horned and unlovely; yet I can hold a pencil, so I am nothing out by “a change of work.” I was going to add that I am nothing in either. But I have just looked at my discharge ; it is marked : “ Ability, V.G.; Conduct, V.G.” So that I have at least earned a reputation. And now for work ! CERTIFICATE OF DISCHARGE FOR SEAMEN. Witness PURSER Steamship Name of Master Description of Vovage UG - 4 PHILIPPEVILLE oS : Frvidew ANTWERP s¢00BEm fs ano BACK Name of Seaman Rig Semgeaenl mae Yy . Vf lof Kllithuraste CE. of. 1FEVO5 | geyansog Pousti | 4 Character ANTWERP ——__-26MARSO6 nai VG ; =m | VG 4a MR, HEBBLETHWAITE’S CERTIFICATE OF DISCHARGE. Digitized b G oogle

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THE “MONASTERIES OF THE MID-AIR.” By E. S. Forster. An interesting account of a visit to the little-known and inaccessible ‘“ Monasteries of the Mid-Air,” the most remarkable communities of their kind in the whole of Burope. Mr. Forster illustrates his article with some striking photographs. N the northernmost corner of the modern kingdom of Greece, within a few miles of the Macedonian frontier, stands a group of the most remark- able and interesting monastic build- ings in the whole of Europe—the Meteora, or “ Monasteries of the Mid-Air.” In this article I propose to describe my recent visit to these wonderful monasteries, which, on account of their inaccessibility, are but little known. As the traveller crosses the broad and fertile Thessalian plain and approaches the Greco- Turkish frontier, the rich valley of the River Peneios gradually contracts, and he finds himself suddenly confronted with the desolate mountain-ranges of Pindos. Just where the valley begins to taper to a point, on the eastern bank of the Peneios, there rises a group of some twenty or thirty huge, pillar-like rocks, standing perpendicularly out of the plain, and varying in height from about three hundred to seven hundred feet. In no mountain region of Europe can this extraordinary geological formation be paralleled. Some of the rocks seem to rise like mighty colunins set firm in the earth ; others stand clustered together like the vast, decaying tree-trunks of some primeval forest. It is on these great obelisks of grey rock that the “ Monasteries of the Mid-Air” are set, like the eyries of monster birds of prey. . Founded in the troublous times of the fourteenth century, their very inaccessibility and their distance from any centre of civilization must have made the Meteora monasteries a safe THE VILLAGE OF KALABAKA, SHOWING THE PRECIPITOUS CLIFFS ON WHICH THE ‘MONASTERIES OF THE MID-AIR” ARE PERCHED. from a Photo, by Rhomaides, Athens. VoL xvii.—71.

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562 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. retreat for the prayers and meditation of the pious devotees of Eastern Christendom. In their most prosperous days they must have rivalled the fame of the monasteries of the ‘holy mountain,” Mount Athos. But, while Mount Athos is now the chief stronghold of Greek monasticism, the Meteora have fallen on evil days ; their buildings are falling into decay, and their inhabitants are continually becoming fewer and fewer. Under the direct patronage of the Byzantine Emperors their rise was rapid. One monastery after another was founded, until they numbered no fewer than twenty-four. Yet, after two centuries had elapsed, quite half of this number had disappeared, and to-day but eight remain, and of these only five are still inhabited. The monasteries may be divided into two groups —those which are built on the cliffs above the village of Kalabaka and those on the rocks to the north. In making the tour of the monasteries the latter are generally visited first. It was a bright February day when, with two companions, I arrived at the little town of Kalabaka. After inspecting the small cathedral of the place and engaging a guide, we imme- diately set off to the north, leaving the southern group of monasteries on our right. Everywhere the cliffs were full of recesses and caverns, cut like pigeon-holes in the soft limestone. These had once been the abodes of pious hermits in the dark ages of medieval fanaticism. Many of them could only be reached by ropes or tall ladders, and the lot of their inhabitants can only have been less unendurable than that of the “ Stylites,” who lived out their unhappy lives on the summits of the columns of the temple of Olympian Zeus at Athens. For their food they must have depended on the charity of passers-by and any herbs or roots which grew in the neighbourhood of their cells. One trembles to think of the state of these burrows and holes when the pious anchorites were living in them; but the medieval hermit of the Eastern Church seems to have been reverenced in exact proportion to his ugliness and dirtiness. If we are to believe the author of “The Monasteries of the Levant,” these hermits afforded excellent sport to parties of roving Saracens ; in fact, he adds, “ Hermit-hunting seems to have been a fashionable amusement previous to the twelfth century !” Passing the hamlet of Kastraki, the northern group of monasteries suddenly came in view. From a distance they seem to be built on different spurs of the same hill, but on closer THE MONASTERY OF ST, BARLAAM—OBSERVE THE ROPE AND THF FRAIL*LOOKING LADDERS, THE ONLY MEANS OF From a Photo. by) ACCESS TO THE BUILDING. (Rhomaides, Athens,

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THE “MONASTERIES inspection they are seen to be perched each on the top of separate pillars of rock. Two of the monasteries of this group are $till inhabited— that of St. Barlaam and the Great Monastery of the Meteora. The former is the most difficult of access; the latter is the highest of all those now in use, and contains the largest number of monks. The grassy plain extends up to the foot of the crags, and its rich luxuriance forms a striking con- trast to the grey, frowning rock. <A steep, winding path led through a_nar- row gorge round the base of the pillar of rock on which the monastery of St. Barlaam — stands. This path suddenly came to an end, and looking up the sheer cliff we could see the buildings of the monastery far above us. We were now confronted with the problem of how to reach our aerial destination, — which looked = difficult enough. Our guide, however, rang a bell, whereupon the head of a monk appeared from a window, and we were informed that if we wanted to ascend we must climb up the ladders. The more usual method is to haul the visitor up by a ‘windlass in a net— a risky proceeding, of the manifold dangers of which we had heard alarming stories. One tale was that one unfortunate traveller had hung for a considerable time in mid-air, owing to some fault in the mechanism above, and watched the rope gradually fraying through on a jagged point of rock! On this occasion, however, this method was impossible, for there were not enough monks at the moment in the monastery to work the cumbrous windlass. From a) NERVE-TRYING ORDEAL. OF THE MID-AIR.” 563 The prospect of ascent by the ladders was alarming, but there was no alternative. The ladders are of wood, and are fastened to the rock by iron hooks. They are four in number, and their total height cannot be far short of two hundred feet. The chief difficulty of the ascent is climbing from the third on to the top- most ladder, for the latter swings in the air and is drawn up, save when visitors are ascending, thus entirely cutting the monastery off from the outside world. On reaching the top, thankful that our dizzy climb was over, we crept through a narrow iron door and found ourselves in the courtyard of the monastery. Arrived here, we were immediately taken into the pre- sence of the “ Agou- menos,” or Abbot, a tall man of middle age and dignified appearance. He re- galed us, with the usual Greek hospi- tality, on thick Turk- ish coffee, doukoumi, or Turkish delight, and mastika, the excellent national liqueur of Greece. We were then taken to see the sights of the place. The buildings are grouped _ irregularly round a_ courtyard, and cover most of the flat summit of the rock. The church is of the ordinary Byzantine type, the interior covered with stiff frescoes of the chief saints of the Eastern Church, which have suffered considerably from restoration. ‘The paintings on the walls of the narthex, or porch, represent, as often in Greek churches, the tortures of those condemned to eternal punishment. Each particular vice has its own appropriate form of punishment, most graphically represented. by the artist. The A MONK BEING HOISTED UP TO ST. BARILAAM IN A NET—A RISKY AND (Photo, +

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564 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. position of the frescoes—outside the main part of the church—typifies the unhappy state of those outside the pale of orthodoxy. We found the descent even more alarming than the ascent, for steppirfy from one ladder to another involved looking down, and each time one looked down one realized with an involun- tary thrill of horror that a false step would mean a fall, not merely to the foot of the ladders, but into the valley itself, hundred feet lower down. The only consolation was that death would be instantaneous! We were not a little relieved to find ourselves safe and sound at the bottom, and waved a last several’ view from St. Barlaam, we did not visit. Turning southward we directed our footsteps towards the east side of the mass of towering rocks, on which the southern group of monas- teries is built. After about an hour’s walking we reached the pillar of rock on which stands the monastery of Hagia Triada, dedicated to the Trinity. It stands entirely isolated from the surrounding peaks, rises to a height of rather more than a hundred feet, and can be reached either by rope or by ladder. We chose the latter method, and found it a far less alarming pro- ceeding than at St. Barlaam, for the ladders here are constructed either in clefts of the rock or farewell to the monks, whose heads appeared through the window of the windlass tower. A short distance to the north of St. Barlaam rises the Great Monastery of the Meteora, to the foot of which a winding path leads up a narrow gorge. ‘Though slightly larger, it is very similar to St. Barlaam, both in its buildings and its position. The rock upon which it is built is higher than that of the neighbouring monastery, but the ascent, whether by ladder or rope, is considerably shorter, for the level of the ground at the base rises comparatively higher. This monastery, of which we had a. good STR RY OF THE METRORA. lish Photographic Co., Athens. inside a casing of wood. On reaching the top we received a very cordial welcome from the’ Abbot, and were again regaled with coffee, Turkish delight, and mastika. The buildings of Hagia Triada were, from an architectural point of view, quite the most pleasing that we saw at any of the monasteries, especially the guest- chambers, which opened on a veranda with a splendid view over the snowy summits of Mounts Olympus and (Eta. A rising point of rock behind the monastic buildings commanded an excellent view in an easterly direction over the range of Pindos. The worthy Abbot took

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THE “MONASTERIES OF THE MID-AIR.” 565 THE MONASTERY OF HAG From a Photo. by the English a manifest pride in showing us every detail of tery. It is worked by a wooden capstan, his monastery. In the church he was hugely which rests on a stone pivot below, while pleased when one of the party recognised a the upper end is fixed into a socket in the fresco represent- roof. The rope as it unwinds from the capstan passes over a pulley-wheel, and a_ network bag is attached to the end, in which the luck- less person who is to be drawn up or down is placed. © Before leaving the — monastery the usual photo- graphing of the monks took place, a process which, being unusual in this distant — corner of the world, ing the daughter of Herodias with the head of John the Baptist. The Greek ecclesi- astic, for some unexplained reason, never expects the slightest know- ledge of the Bible from any foreigner, and hails with de- light any such knowledge when it is displayed. We had an opportunity of examining the windlass by which people and provisions never fail to are drawn up give pleasure. into the monas- From a} MAGIA TRIADA—THE TOWER OF THE WINDLASS. trrot, ‘The Abbot told

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566 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. us regretfully that he had on several occasions been photographed by visitors to the monas- tery, but the copies promised him had never arrived, either because they had been forgotten or because the postal authorities at Kalabaka had taken a fancy to them and annexed them ; the worthy Abbot seemed to favour the latter theory. I can only hope that the copies of his portrait which we sent him fared better. The monks of Hagia Triada were most press- ing in their invitation that we should spend the night in their monas- tery, but we had heard that the best quarters were to be obtained at the monastery of St. Stephanos, and thither we now directed our footsteps. St. Stephanos is situated a short distance to the south of Hagia Triada. It is the easiest to reach of all the Meteora monasteries, for, From a) THE ABBOT OF HAGIA TKIADA, ing our desire to stay the night in the monas- tery one of the monks was at once told off to attend to us. He was a deacon, and rejoiced in the name of Nico- demus. We were imme- diately conducted to the guest - chamber, where we deposited our bag- gage, and then pro- ceeded to explore the monastery. The church of St. Stephanos contains no- thing of particular in- terest except a wonder- fully carved iconostasis, or altar-screen. Many of the monastic build- ings have been recently restored ; indeed, the whole structure seemed in better repair than the cther monasteries which we visited. The view from the monastery of St. Stephanos is quite the finest in the Meteora. Immediately below lie the whitewashed build- ings of Kalabaka, some fifteen hundred feet beneath ; beyond is the broad stream of the (Photo. From a} though it stands on an isolated rock, it is only separated from the neighbouring peaks by a narrow gorge, which is crossed by a draw- bridge. Obtaining admittance, we found our- selves in a triangular court; on the side facing us was the church, with a broad, low colonnade running along the side of it. On our announc- ST, STEPHANOS, WHERE THE AUTHOR SPENT THE NIGHT. (Photo. Peneios, and on the other side of the valley rises the snow-clad mountain barrier of Pindos. Returning to the guest-chamber we found a plenteous meal awaiting us—f/afi (a delicious mixture of mince, rice, and spices), roast lamb, and goat’s-milk cheese, followed by figs and oranges and the inevitable Turkish delight,

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THE “MONASTERIES coffee, and mastika. We then settled down toa long talk with the deacon Nicodemus. The first thing one has always to submit to on making the acquaintance of a modern Greek is to answer all the questions he may care to put to you. There is no reticence about him ; he wants to know everything that is to be known about you—where you have come from, where you are going to, what your age is, and what your income is. In return he is quite willing to give you the most detailed account of himself and his affairs, if you happen to care to listen to him. The worthy Nicodemus was a man of some education, and had seen more of the world than most Greek monks. In particular he had twice visited Jerusalem, and on both occasions had seen the miracle of the sacred fire in the Holy Sepulchre on Easter Day. He appeared to be entirely convinced of the genuineness of the miracle. The life of a Greek monk is not an arduous one. His duties amount to little more than regular attendance at service, and he is of no practical use to his Church or to the community. He has little education, and seldom reads any- thing beyond his liturgy and the daily paper; for, like every true Greek, he is an ardent poli- tician. Occasionally he leaves the monastery to visit the monastic farms and property ; otherwise he seems to do literally nothing except attend services, eat and sleep, read the paper, smoke, and drink Turkish coffee. The only excitement of his life is a visit to some other monastery and the entertainment of strangers. Under a recent law, however, he is now obliged to serve in the army. It is probable that the fact that exemption from military service is no longer granted to the monastic orders, together with the anti-monastic tendency of the Govern- ment, is the cause of the decay of the monasteries throughout Greece. After enjoying the conversation of the deacon Nicodemus for two hours or more, we signified a desire to retire to rest, and were accordingly OF THE MID-AIR.” 567 conducted to our sleeping apartment. It was a spacious room, and the beds, though they had hard boards where one would have preferred springs, were at least clean—a virtue of which Greek beds can very seldom boast. The next morning saw us up betimes, for we had a long day’s journey before us. But our early rising was rewarded, for we saw the sun rise over the range of Olympus and light up the snows of Pindos with the rosy hues of dawn. The only drawback to staying the night in a Greek house or monastery is that one is offered nothing substantial in the way of breakfast. The Greek himself never takes anything in the way of refreshment before eleven o’clock, except, perhaps, a cup of Turkish coffee; he cannot, therefore, appreciate the Anglo-Saxon craving for something solid to begin the day upon. On this occasion we were offered nothing before setting out except coffee and liqueur brandy; the latter was excellent of its kind, but it is not precisely what one requires at half-past seven in the morning preparatory toa long walk. On leaving a Greek monastery where one has received hospitality it is customary to deposit a sum of money in the offertory-box of the church, for in theory all travellers are guests. One of our number was therefore deputed to place a Greek bank-notein the church. Then, having bidden an affectionate farewell to the deacon Nicodemus, we crossed the drawbridge and made our way in the keen morning air down the valley to the little town of Kalabaka. After obtaining some bread we set out much refreshed on our southward journey. Even the solitudes of the Thessalian plain seemed full of life after the peaceful silence which reigned in those aerial monasteries, whose towers and domes we could still see for many miles standing out against the snows of the mountain frontier of Turkey. Even in their decay the ‘‘ Monasteries of the Mid-Air” seemed to stand as sentinels guarding the civilization of the West and the restored kingdom of Hellas from the inroads of the hated Moslem.

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What Happened at the Well. By H. L. Apam. The thrilling experience of an Irish well-sinker who was imprisoned in a living tomb by a fall of earth. T a small place called Poulagannive, but better known as the Sandhills, situated about a mile from the town of Birr, in the county of Leinster, Ireland, there resides a Mr. C. W. Frend, an auctioneer. In his grounds is a well, of a depth of about fifty feet, fitted, at the period of which I write, with a windlass and bucket. It has been in existence about fifty years, and was sunk when the house was first built. The lower half of the well was blasted out of the solid rock, and the upper portion, being through sand, was lined with stones, which varied in size, some being as large as two feet long and twelve or fourteen inches square. The opening was five feet in diameter. A little over a year before the occurrence which I am about to describe, Mr. Frend, not being satisfied with the primitive — wind- lass and bucket of the well, em- ployed a man to fit it with a pump. At that time Mr. John Dickson, of Sandymount, Birr, descended into the well and made an examina- tion of it. He reported it in per- fect order and quite safe. For some unexplained reason, however, the pump was never fixed, and the well remained in the same con- dition until the period of which I write. Then Mr. Frend again gave instructions for what is known as a “pillar pump” to be fixed, and entrusted the work to Mr. Dickson. The latter at once proceeded to carry it out, and shortly before eleven o'clock “HE PROCEEDE) TO MAKE MIs EXAMINATION.” on the morning of the 23rd August descended the well in order to make a_ preliminary examination. On the surface were three assist- ants, named respectively Williams, Bartley, and Horan. A twenty - eight - foot ladder was lowered down the well, and Dickson descended. Arrived on the ladder, which rested against the wall of the well, a few feet above where the stone facing met the solid rock, he took a piece of candle from his pocket, lit it, and proceeded to make his examination. He was not able to report so favourably as before, as he discovered a considerable break in the stone facing of the well where it joined the rock. This, he informed Mr. Frend, would have to be repaired before the work of fitting the pump could be proceeded with, and for this purpose he should require a plank to be lowered, so that it might be fixed across the well. A plank of the requisite length was there- upon obtained, Dickson again went down — all the descents and ascents were con- trived by means of the windlass and rope — and the plank was lowered to him. The latter he got into position across the well, thrusting one end into a recess formed by two oak beams which were used during the construction of the well. The bucket containing Dickson's tools was then lowered, and rested upon the plank. We will now leave Dickson, standing upon the ladder, over twenty feet from the surface, still busy securing the plank,

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WHAT HAPPENED and return to the well-head. The assistants were standing by, ready -to carry out any orders that their employer might give, when suddenly there fell upon their ears a sound that sent a chill through their veins—the sound of stones and earth falling in large quantities within the well! At first they thought it might be deérzs purposely thrown down by Dickson, but the next moment the idea was negatived by the rumbling roar that arose from the well, with which was mingled a stifled human cry! Rushing to the brink, they saw the walls of the shaft collapse and the well rapidly fill with rubble ! For a few moments they stood speechless, gazing with impotence upon what was, with appalling sud- denness, pre- sented to them as their em- ployer’s living burial. When at length they were able to shake themselves free from the spell which held them, they gave the alarm. The news soon spread, and created universal consternation. It was agreed on all hands that poor Dickson must certainly be dead, and that all that was left them to do was to essay the melancholy task of recovering his body. In this the unfortunate contractor's workmen had plenty of willing assistance, several police-officers helping in the work of clearing away the rubbish from the well. Vol. xvii.—72. “THEY SAW THE WALLS OF THE SHAFT COLLAPSE.” AT THE WELL. 569 It was not long after the catastrophe occurred that the digging was begun. This work was attended with considerable risk to those engaged in it, inasmuch as it was quite possible that the rubble upon which they were standing might give way, and so precipitate them to the bottom of the well, and bury them as it had done their employer. The lower they got the more dangerous the work became, and in order to avoid any serious accident the men constructed a wooden staging at the top, from which were suspended a number of ropes; these were secured to the bodies of the diggers by way of life-lines. Lower and lower they dug as the boulders, sand, and earth were removed, the busy hours passing drearily by. Evening crept down, find- ing their task far from completed, and they ceased for the day, intending to resume work the next morning. It was deemed advisable that somebody should mount guard at the well- head, and_ this duty was allotted to one of the constables, who remained by the well until the morning. The sad news of Mr. Dickson’s untimely demise was broken as gently as possible to his friends, and soon spread to the various branches of his family. A son, a sergeant-major of the 5th Lein- sters, quartered at Navan, at once made his way to Birr ; a daughter also arrived from Limerick to par- ticipate in the last sad rites when the body should be recovered. The first thing the next morning the digging was resumed, and about ten o’clock one of the men reported that he thought he heard sounds below. This put new heart into the workers, and imbued them with a hope to which they scarcely dared give expression. It was very hard work removing the heavy boulders from the rubble, many of them being tightly wedged in; but the men persevered doggedly, spurred on by the thought that perhaps a human life Digitized b Google

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570 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. depended upon their exertions. It was nearing the hour of noon when, having succeeded in removing a large stone, the workers were astonished to behold the head of the missing Dickson appear through the opening! The excitement was intense, but so great was the danger of bringing about a fall of earth that the men cautiously refrained from indulging in any demonstrations of joy. Very carefully a rope was lowered through the hole and insinu- ated round the body of Dickson, who was thus made secure. The imprisoned man having been safely raised to the surface, the pent-up feelings of those present found relief in a rousing cheer, and Dickson was at once taken into the house of Mr. Frend, where he received every attention. Later he proceeded to his home, where his wel- come by his astounded relatives was of a most enthusiastic kind. Although his physical injuries were found to be comparatively slight, his mental suf- ferings must have been intense, and were clearly depicted on his face, which, it was noticed by his friends, had aged considerably. I now propose to leave Mr. Dickson to give his own account of his grim experi- ence, as nearly as possible in his own words. I intended to put down a metal pillar pump for Mr. Frend, and before this could be done it was necessary to repair the damage to the facing, which I judged had been caused by the bucket. I could dis- cover no indication that the “THE UPPER WALL OF THE WELL COLLAPSED — the. AND SWIFTLY DESCENDED, IN| TONS UF STONES AND RUBBLE.” whole facing was in such an unsafe condition as it clearly must have been, as the defect that I had found was purely local. Having had the plank lowered, I got it into position across the well, and while standing on the ladder below the plank, the end of which I was making firm, I heard a noise above—the sound of a move- ment. Instinctively looking up, I noticed that the disc of light at the surface was obscured, and the next moment, with a deafening crash and sickening thud, the upper wall of the well collapsed and swiftly descended, in tons of stones and rubble, into the water below. The whole thing happened in a flash, and between the noise I first heard and the fall of the stones there was scarcely time for thought. Most for- tunately, when the crash came I was standing under the plank in a recess, which partly shielded me, so that I escaped the full force of the first avalanche. I was, however, pinned by several large stones, one of which caught me across the left side of the face, another at the side of the neck, and a third on the chest, over my watch; at the same moment my feet were thrust off the ladder by the ‘alling débris, and I was suspended helplessly, as I thought, over space. This was the posi- tion in which I found myself in a very much shorter space of time than it takes me to relate it. I felt as if I was being suffocated, and in my struggles I kicked out with my feet, when to my surprise latter came in contact with some rubble which had

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WHAT HAPPENED AT THE WELL. 571 apparently lodged just below me, and now, becoming dislodged, fell to the bottom of the well. This had the effect of releasing the stones from my head, and brought my feet on to the ladder again. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness which had so suddenly closed in upon me, it seemed to me that I was confined within a small chamber formed by the fallen rubble, which had by some means jammed above and about me. A hideous feeling of dread took possession of me when IJ realized what had occurred—a feeling which I am afraid I am scarcely able to describe. I was weirdly oppressed by the grave-like silence which prevailed about me, a silence broken only by the occasional fall of small por- tions of the rubble, which detached themselves and splashed into the water far down below, sending up a faint echo whicn added to the terrors of my situation. My thoughts were in a condi- tion of bewilderment, and I kept wondering how it was that I was still alive, and why I had not been killed outright by the tons of stones that descended. It took me some minutes to thoroughly grasp the nature of the position in which I was placed, and when at length I did realize it my heart seemed to stand still, I had a piece of candle and some matches in my pocket, and thus kindled a light. Noticing that it burned brightly, I was reassured that, as there must be plenty of air in the chamber, I was not likely to expire from suffocation. Holding the candle aloft, I looked around, and noticed that the rubble had formed a kind of arched roof above me, some large stones having been inter- cepted in their fall by the plank, upon which they had become lodged. This was a fortunate thing for me, although I realized to the full the danger that still menaced me from this seeming protection. This frail roof might give way at any moment, when the great weight would carry me with it to the bottom and most certainly kill me outright. I therefore at once proceeded to adopt measures to try and avoid this peril. I had a length of rope with me, and with this I made two slings round the plank, the loops being underneath. At the slightest sound from above I determined to catch hold of each loop and suspend myself beneath the plank, and so be protected in some measure from the avalanche. I took out my watch and found the glass smashed, and that it had stopped a few minutes MR. JOHN DICKSON, WHO HERE TELLS THE REMARKABLE STORY OF HIS ESCAIR FROM A LIVIXG TOMB. From a Photo. after eleven. I could not tell what the time was, but I seemed to have been imprisoned a very long time. Suddenly I was gratified to hear the welcome sounds of digging above me, in the form of faint thuds, while the roof of boulders vibrated. Clearly the work of rescue had been begun, and I took heart from this circumstance, although at the same time I had some misgivings concerning the roof, and kept myself as keenly alert as I could for any indica- tion of an impending fall. This, however, was not an easy matter, as I had the utmost diffi- culty to refrain from falling asleep, probably on account of the confined atmo- sphere. Once or twice I did actually lose consciousness, but I think only for the space of a few minutes. By this time the cramped nature of my position was causing me considerable physical pain. The ladder was too narrow to allow me to sit down, and from long standing on the rungs my feet became numbed. In order to relieve this I assumed a hori- zontal position across an unen- cumbered portion of the plank, thus releasing my feet from pres- sure; then, when my body be- came cramped, I resumed my stand on the ladder, and so rested my body. This I con- tinued to do the whole time, turn and tum about, the while I struggled against the almost overpowering desire to sleep. I derived not a little comfort and encouragement from the sounds of the digging above me, which were gradually growing more distinct as the work progressed. Presently the candle, having burnt to the end, flickered and went out, and I was again plunged into utter darkness. The leaden minutes . dragged on, and I grew drowsy listening to the thuds above; my head was in a whirl, and I ached in every limb. I was worried a good deal by the small pieces of rubble which continued to fall and splash into the water far below—ugly reminders of my own possible fate ! I think I must have fallen asleep about this time, for I suddenly became aware that the sounds above had ceased! Perhaps, though, I told myself in alarm, it was merely fancy, or the men had paused just to take breath. I listened with all my might, but no sound reached me— nothing but silence, horrible, deathly silence! It was true, then; they had ceased work ! They had abandoned me, had given up the task as hopeless, considering me dead ; they had gone away, leaving me to a horrible, lingering death !

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572 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I should slowly suffocate in this living tomb—buried alive! Buried alive! Often had I heard and read of such a fate, and never with- out a shudder, and here was I myself alive in a grave forty odd feet deep below the earth, with tons of stones and sand above me and ° water beneath ! In spite of my mental and physical anguish I must have fallen asleep again, for I suddenly experi- enced the sensation of falling, and clutched madly at the ladder. Fortunately I was able to get a hold, and save myself from tum- bling off. This was yet another peril which I should have to guard against. Anxiously I listened again, but still no sound reached myear. 1 had been abandoned— there could be no longer any doubt about it. How shall I describe that night’s experience? Aching in every fibre of my body, with a mind that hovered about the threshold of dementia and a heart that seemed to have long since ceased to beat, I hoped and prayed, and prayed and hoped, through what seemed an eternity of suffering. After the lapse of a very long time, as it seemed to me, when hope was all but dead within me, the welcome sound of the thuds once more fell upon my ear, and I knew that the men had resumed their digging. What music those muffled noises were to me!. As they grew louder and louder, indicating that the workers were coming nearer and nearer to me, a strange s ae “THRUST MY HEAD THROUGH, THE APERTURE.” exultation filled me, and I wept with the joy of it. For long hours I had had death at my elbow, and now every minute was making the hope of life brighter. Nearer and ever nearer they came, until at length I could faintly hear their voices. Soon after 1 heard them very close, at the side where the ladder was. I therefore got as far up the ladder as I could, and clung to it with all the strength that remained to me. There came a good deal of wrenching and tugging, and then—blessed sight !—a large stone was lifted and the glorious daylight flooded in ! = The rest is soon told. I thrust my head through the aperture, and not a litule “surprised those above. No time was lost in extricating me from my painful position. A rope was let down through the hole, which I passed round my body, under my arms. It was then securely fastened, and I was raised to the surface —twenty-five hours after my first. imprisonment. The pas- sage of my body displaced some of the closely-packed rubble, and without warning the whole of it gave way and hurtled to the bottom of the well with an echoing roar, passing over the very place I had so recently occu- pied! And thus was I snatched from the very jaws of death.

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By D. W. O. Facan, or MANGAPAI, WHANGAREI, NEW ZEALAND. Any reader of this Magazine who is weary of ordinary sports should go out to Maoriland and try the shark-angling and harpooning here described—-surely a pastime exciting enough for the most exacting. Mr. Fagan has frequently assisted at shark-fishing excursions, and so writes with authority on the subject. VERY year towards the end of January, when the hot New Zealand | summer sun has thoroughly warmed the shallow waters which cover the tidal flats and sand-banks, young mullet and other small fish swarm in the river channels. Then come armies of sharks to prey upon the small fry, new-hatched from the spawning. A sorry time the young fish have of it. Chased through the water by the ravenous sea- tigers, the school rises to the surface in a vain hope of escape, only to find awaiting them a white cloud of diving-gulls, flying low. As the frightened fish approach the surface, down drop the birds with a splash into the water, each to emerge with a struggling victim. The sharks, too, are not to be shaken off, and may be observed by the watcher on shore circling and herding the school, for all the world like sheep-dogs round a flock, to prevent their victims from breaking away until they have gorged their full. All the while the water sur- face, for perhaps an acre or so, is all a-shimmer and boiling with the frantic rushes of myriad small fry. In their desperate efforts at escape, thousands of the little fish are continually leaping into the air, a flashing spray of silver, only to be caught, ere they fall again, in the iron bills of the great, waiting gulls. It seems wonderful that any escape to develop into full-sized fish ; yet the fishermen find no diminution in the number and size of “schools” in the mullet- fishing season. But the shark does not have it all his own way, and shortly has to reckon with a formid- able enemy himself. For some weeks past, at the moment of writing, the Maoris of the coastal ‘ kaingas ” (villages) have been busily preparing for their annual shark-fishing. Boats have all been repainted, caulked, and tarred, gear has been overhauled, a fresh stock of lines and hooks provided, and bait collected for the fishing. Fresh mullet is the one bait a shark finds irresistible and will always bite at, but where this is not to be had a very good substitute, and a bait sharks take readily, is the large six-inch mussel, which is to be found in numbers on the submerged sand-banks of the coast. Great quantities of these shell-fish are collected in readiness ere the season commences, and being placed in heaps on the beach, where the Digitized b Google

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574 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. tide covers them twice daily, they remain fresh and good as long as required. At the first appearance of the sharks in any numbers all is bustle on the harbour beaches, and the boats go out from the coastal villages and fishing-camps to take up their stations on the various fishing-grounds. Boats of all kinds are repre- sented in the fishing fleet— well-found sailing yachts of three or four tons, belonging to chiefs or some of the more prosperous natives ;_ whale- boats, ships’ gigs, flat-bottomed punts, and even old-time native canoes or dug-outs. If possible, each boat, with its six or eight fishers, has in tow a second punt, to carry the fish, for, as may be imagined, a catch of ten or a dozen sharks, ranging from six to eight feet in length, requires some room for stowage. Women accompany the men to the fishing, and enjoy the sport as thoroughly as their male companions. Ex- pert fishers they are, too; I have seen a young “ wahinie” hook and play a ten - foot shark in as sportsmanlike a manner as any man, checking the wild rushes of the fish with steady strain on the line, easing out as it dived, and at length, after a long tussle, hauling it alongside in triumph. Plunging, leaping, squirming, lashing the water to a snowy foam, and snapping its great jaws, it came nearer and nearer, making the boat rock and quiver with the blows of its tail. Gradually yielding to the steady pull on the line, its head at last rose high enough to receive the coup de grace by way of a stunning blow from a club on the snout, after which, its tail being cut off, it was heaved aboard. Next to his teeth, a shark’s most dan- gerous weapon is his powerful tail, a blow from which may easily break a leg From a) From al A MODERN SHARK-LINE, WITH STEEL HOOK AND SINKER. THE HOME-MADE BONE SHARK-HOOK AND STONE SINK THE OLDER MAORIS, or an arm, to say nothing of staving a plank in the boat’s side or bottom. Hence, before taking a fish on board the tail is generally cut off as a precautionary measure. In dealing with such heavy fish strong gear must, of course, be employed. ‘The lines used F are generally of American cotton, very strong and cap- able of withstanding a heavy strain. Such a line, twelve fathoms in length, a hook of best steel, three to four inches long, with a foot or two of swivelled steel chain attached, to which the line is bent, and a half- pound lead sinker complete each fisher’s equipment. Some of the more conser- vative of the older Maoris prefer a line made of twisted or plaited flax, such as their fathers were wont to use from time immemorial, with hooks cunningly fashioned of bone, and stone sinkers. Wonderful execution the old fellows do, too, with their primitive gear. It is true a well-made flax line is wonderfully strong, but one would think the first snap of a shark’s teeth, if, unluckily, he got it in his mouth, would sever it. On the contrary, however ;_ the line, being lightly plaited, “gives” to the bite, and though some of the strands may be cut through, suffi- cient generally hold to enable a skilled fisher to bring his shark alongside and within reach of the club. This goes to prove the wisdom of the ancients, for though the steel chain is the stronger, of course, yet a sharp clash of the terrible wedge- shaped teeth will cut through it as easily as through a carrot. This catching of the line in the fish’s jaws is the one thing the careful shark fisher must avoid. A steady strain must be kept on the line from the moment the hook is fast {Psoro, and the first jerk (Photo.

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SHARK - FISHING. 575 of the fish felt. As a rule a shark takes the hook in the under jaw (which, as he turns on his back to bite at the bait, is for the moment on top) close to the edge, and, granted a taut line and good hook, his capture resolves itself merely into a question of pull man, pull fish. Care must be taken, however, to ease the strain when he makes his first wild rush on feel- ing the hook, and to haul in quickly as he turns again in his rush and heads for the boat. At times, too, a fish will dive beneath the boat, continuing his wild career on the other side, but a taut line soon brings him back, and, providing the hook holds firm in his jaw, five or six minutes of this frantic rushing will tire him out. As the tide recedes, many miles of mud- banks and sand-flats are laid bare, intersected by numerous river channels and lagoons, where even at low tide there remains a depth of water of five or six fathoms. In these channels are the fishing-grounds, and here the boats are anchored firmly by bow and stern across the run of the tide, so that the . whole gunwale space of each boat is available for the accommodation of the fishers. From a) The tides in these channels run strongly, and if only one anchor were used, the boat conse- quently swinging to its painter, all the fishing- lines thus caught by the current would be swept astetn and hopelessly tangled together. As the tide leaves the flats the sharks and other fish which have been feeding over the miles of banks follow the receding waters into the deeper channels, so that the limited space, as the water shrinks, becomes crowded with fish of all kinds, and literally alive with darting CAPTURED SHARKS DRYING IN THE SUN. sharks. Now is the time to make a haul and fill the boats, and the fun becomes fast and furious. Everywhere the wicked black, trian- gular dorsal fins may be seen throwing up a little spray of water as they dart to and fro on the surface. On setting out a large, loosely-woven flax basket or kit, containing the skin and offal of a slaughtered sheep or bullock, is put into the boat. Attached to a short line, it is put over- board and allowed to hang in the water ; the blood and savour of it filtering through render the sharks perfectly ravenous. Dozens of them flock around the floating bag, making ineffectual . snaps at it as the man holding the line jerks the tempting morsel from their jaws. In the clear water every motion of the fish can be watched, and their rushes at the bag avoided. “Now drop your baited hooks down along- side the bag,” its guardian calls out. ‘ Kapai (good)! Three hooked at once !” “Look out, now ; take a turn with your lines around a pin and ease out handsomely as they run.” The water is churned to foam by the struggling, darting fish as they flog the surface (Photo. with their tails in vain efforts to escape. The boat rocks as if in a heavy sea. The ‘tug of the three great fish on the lines pulls her almcst gunwale-under. “ Get to the other side, two or three of you, or we shall capsize. Now, then, haul in handily as they come. ‘There goes one under the boat. Check him as he goes. That’s right! Now you have him ; haul in; don’t let him away on the slack. Ready with the club, Paki. Oh, kapai!”

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576 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Thus the three eight-footers are brought alongside, stunned, secured, and de-tailed. So the work goes on, till the punts are loaded gunwale-down with fish, and the returning tide, covering the flats, causes the sharks once more to scatter. Then it’s up anchors and home again. Ashore the sharks are cleaned and their heads cut off. On the beach, above high-water mark, long transverse poles, supported by forked uprights twenty feet high, have been erected, and on these gallows the sharks are hung in rows, far beyond re reach of prowling dogs or : other marauding animals, and resembling, at a dis- tance, a row of old-time sea pirates hanging from gibbets in the old-fashioned way. Here, exposed to the heat of the sun and the salt sea-breezes, the fish remain for three weeks or a month to ripen. At the end of that time they have become _ per- fectly dry and hard as wood. No salt or other preservative is used in the process of curing. When quite dry the fish are packed in flax mats and bales and transported in- land by pack-horse to the populous native _ settle- ments, where they form a welcome addition to the dietary. It is not the Maoris of the coasts alone, however, who take part in the yearly shark-fishing. On the first appearance of the fish in the shore-waters word is sent inland, and the land- ward folk from fifty or sixty miles away come in 7 numbers to share in the welcome sea-harvest. During the midsummer months the fishing- camps are dotted thickly around the harbour beaches. In every little sheltered cove or bay handy to the fishing, where the pohotukawas trail their crimson-blossom-laden branches in the blue water, you may come across the fishers’ tents or “ whares.” Many families of landward Maoris possess regular fishing-camps in such Arcadian spots, which their ancestors have used yearly from From a) A FOURTEEN-FOOTER. tinie immemorial, and to which they have acquired a clear title through the use of successive generations. In these places one will find not only tents or other temporary dwellings, but substantial slab or weatherboard cottages. Here, for the summer months, paterfamilias brings his family of happy, brown-skinned lads and lasses for a breath of the sea and a dip in the briny, the while he lays up a good store of shark, which shall suffice as a dainty in the family menu during the ensuing year. The sharks caught in the manner I have described are not of the deep-sea variety, which often attain a size of over thirty feet in length, and seldom venture into the harbour waters. It is the ground-sharks,, of two or three species, that, preying upon the young fish, follow them — after spawning time into shallow waters, and fall victims to the Maori fishers. Blue-shark, shovel-nose, and hammer-heads are all caught in numbers by the natives, and all are found equally good eating. None of these species, however, attain a size of over twelve or fourteen feet in length ; indeed, the average run of size is from six to eight feet. The flesh of the larger fish is said to be too coarse and strong- flavoured, and the Maori fisherman accordingly dis- cards anything over ten feet long. Not that he lets the shark go, having once caught him. Oh, dear, no! A shark, and especially a big one, is “hostis humani generis,” and is best out of the way; so he cuts off the tail and fins for drying and heaves the carcass overboard, where its former comrades make short work of it. : Sharks often break away after being hooked, either through the line parting or being bitten through. ‘These, as a rule, hampered by the hook in their jaws, or tangled up in the line, fall an easy prey to their fellows, who are not at all averse to dining off one lee (Photo.

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SHARK - FISHING. “TAKING AIM JUST AS THE SHARK TURNED ON HIS BACK, THE WRITER SENT A BULLET THROUGH HIS HEAD, It sometimes happens, however, that one of these escapers gets clear away with the hook still in his jaws; he is then apt to become what is cailed “ hook-shy,” and refuses to take a bait again. These once-hooked sharks do not accompany their fellows to deeper water at the end of the season, but prefer to prowl solitarily in the harbour waters, where they become a menace to bathers all the year round. The writer recalls one such shark, that during a whole summer infested the Mata beach, patrol- ling up and down, fifty yards off shore, on the look-out for a child, dog, or any uncon- sidered trifle that might come his way. Nobody _ fur- nished him a meal, however ; but he suc- ceeded in so terrorizing the “ wahinies ” and “ piccaninnies ” (women and children) that they were afraid to venture over their ankles in the water. All the men Vol. xvii.—73. THE TERROR OF THE MATA BEACH, SHOWING THE CAPACIOUS MOUTH. From a Vhoto. in the camps pursued him with hook and gun, but without avail. He kept too far out to offer a good shot from the shore, and refused to be tempted with the daintiest of baits. At last, however, we succeeded in enticing him near to a boat by means of a sucking-pig tied to a line. Then, taking aim just.as the shark turned on his back to swallow poor piggy, the writer sent a bullet through his head. To gaff him then and tow him ashore, amid the jubilations of the camp, was but the work of a few minutes, when he was found to have a four-inch steel hook firmly fixed in his jaw, with six inches of rusty chain attached. Paki said he recognised the hook as one of his which a shark had got away with two seasons ago. Ergo, this was the identical shark. He was a nasty customer, over twelve feet long and full three feet across the back. His ¢ jaws, armed with razor-edged

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578 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. © HAKPOUNEK STANDS SILENT IN THE BOW, WITH WEAPON POISED, From a Phote. teeth, had a spread of thirty inches. The “wahinies” were wise in giving him a wide berth. On cutting him open we found in his stomach an iron rowlock, a marline-spike, something that looked suspiciously like the heel of a boot, and various other small articles of ironmongery. When tired for the time of the hard work of shark-fishing, and longing for the relaxation of a little real sport (for, although ex- citing enough, one would have thought, to satisfy the most exigent, the Maori has ¢ome to regard shark-fishing merely in the light of a business, and consequently “no fun at all”), those who are fortunate enough to possess the requisite gear take a day off to recoup and go harpooning for sharks For this a calm day must be chosen, with just enough wind to drive the yacht silently through the water. Sharks are easily scared, and the ripple round the bows of a fast sailing boat would cause the fish to dart away ere the harpooner got his chance to strike. Bits of offal and fish-cleanings are scattered on the water to bring the sharks within striking distance, and soon the triangular fins appear and diaw nigh. The harpooner stands silent in the bow, with weapon poised—waiting, motion- ing instructions with his hand now and again to the steersman, who answers every motion with ready tiller. Thus the boat glides silently, imperceptibly nearer to the feeding shark. Now is the psychological moment! The harpooner’s sinews stiffen; he stands tense, motionless, with weapon raised in air. The shark turns belly up to swallow the bait. Then there is a whistling rush through the air, a rending thud as the iron strikes and enters. Got him! The soft iron bends to the force of the blow, the light wood shaft buckles and breaks, but the barb holds, and away goes the fish, tow- ing us by the line attached to the harpoon- iron at the rate of a good ten knots. But not for long; the barb has entered deep, and the shark soon rises to float dead on the surface. There is very little danger or risk, but it is a nerve-thrilling sport nevertheless, and one calling for a high degree of skill on the part of harpooner, steersman, and linesman alike. A shark is not a whale, and presents but a small mark amid the surrounding waters. It requires no little practice to successfully launch a harpoon from the bow of a swaying, heaving yacht at such a target as is presented by an eight-foot shark, never still for an instant, and ready to dart away like lightning even as the harpooner’s arm is raised. Its votaries follow this sport for love alone. ‘There are many more misses than hits in the game; but the sordid question of making a . Sinks Ke ‘A SHARK FAIRLY HARPOONED. oO: le

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SHARK - FISHING. 579 good “bag” is forgotten for the nonce and all are bent on pure enjoyment. Viewed from this standpoint, fishing for sharks with hook and line falls far behind. Many a glorious day’s harpooning has the writer enjoyed with Maki and the Maori has ever looked in great measure to the sea for his food supply. Good fishermen and fearless boatmen, too, were these old-time Maoris, venturing in their great canoes, sixty and eighty feet in length, “AWAY GOKS THE FISH, TOWING US BY THE LINE ATTACHED TO THE ITARPOON-IRON.” Pirihi, chief of Ngatiti “hapu,” in his well-found yacht. Still, it must be admitted that, when it is a question of fishing for the “ pot,” then the book has it all its own way, and will easily account for a dozen sharks to every one a harpoon strikes. ; All round the northern coasts of New Zealand, in every’ bay and harbour that is at all accessible, the Maoris gather in the summer season for the annual shark- fishing. From earliest times dried shark has ranked high as an article of food in native estimation, fashioned with stone tools from a single tree, on long ocean-fishing expeditions. So good in quality were their nets and cordage that they won the admiration of the famous Captain Cook, who, in the report of his second visit to New Zealand, has recorded the surprise he experienced on finding the natives in possession of ropes and cordage of greater strength than those employed in the rigging of his own Kesolutron. No wonder, if this is so, that the old Maoris of the present day prefer to do their shark- fishing with the gear of their forebears ! Digitiz ib Google ‘

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An American ‘Oliver Twist.” ToLp By OLIVER WELLS AND SET DOWN BY WALTER ELLiorT. Rebelling against the cruel treatment meted out to him by brutal foster-parents, the narrator— then an orphan boy of fifteen —ran away-from his loveless ‘“‘home,” with his faithful dog for companion, and hid himself on a train, hoping to reach a distant relative who had shown him some kindness. Hardly had the journey begun than boy and dog found themselves playing important parts in an exciting adventure, with what startling resuits this story shows. JERY few men, I believe, have had a more exciting experience, crowded into the same number of hours, than fell to my lot as a fifteen-year- old boy when running away from To begin with, however, I wish to home. qualify the word “home,” for the place I fled from was in reality not my home, but that of a man and his wife who had adopted me from an orphanage. In short, I had no home, as other children understand the term; and my foster- parents were little better than brutes in their treatment of me, which was the principal reason- why I ran away. Another reason was that a distant male relation of my own people, a second cousin of my dead mother, who lived in Butte, Montana, had heard somehow of the cruel treatment I was receiv- ing down at the Utah ranch where I was located, and had written to me secretly to try to get my “owners” to let me go to him. The rancher, however, only gave me an extra hard beating the day I screwed my courage up to broach the subject to him. He said, savagely, he’d “see my Butte | cousin — somewhere — before he’d let him get me just as I was getting to be of an age when I was of some account, and could be made to pay back some of the great expense I’d_ been to him.” And that, too, after ’'d been milking eighteen cows, summer and winter, twice a day, and doing almost a man’s work besides, since I was nine! He had taken toll out of my poor little body for every cent I had ever cost him, not counting the work as worth anything. It was about a fortnight after I had received the letter, it being then about the middle of June, 1880—making me consequently to-day in my forty-first year—that late one afternoon first Mrs. Larsen—the only mother I had ever known !—gave me a terrible drubbing because my small arms had given out and I had dropped TAKEN A L, OLIVER WELLS, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH FEW YEARS AFTER THE DATE OF THIS STORY. a big bucket of milk, and then the old man himself had given me a second one “ just for getting whipped”! It was too much; I made up my mind quite suddenly to run away that very night. Pretty well all the boyish spirit had been crushed out of me, but I seemed to have enough left not to stand having ‘wo people pounding the life out of me instead of the one who had been attending to that department of my “raising” hitherto. So, after everything was quiet and the old couple were presumably sound asleep, somewhere near eleven o'clock that night I grabbed up the small parcel I had made of my few personal belongings and stole cautiously down the old, creaky stairs. Of course, I was terribly frightened ; my heart beat so loud that I was afraid the sound of it would pre- vent my hearing other noises in case anyone should be stirring about the house. There were two hired men_ sleeping there besides the “family,” which in- cluded me, so that I had to be very careful. Just as I reached the bottom step my elbow-joint struck the edge of the open stair-door and I dropped my bundle. . As luck would have it the bundle hit a tin dust-pan hanging on the wall and sent it clattering down with a terrific racket. Trembling with fright, I heard old Larsen cal out, “Who's there?” and apparently turn over in bed to listen. I lived an hour's agony in the next six seconds, standing stock-still at the foot of the stairs. Then I heard his amiable wife say, sleepily, “It vas only Oskargraf (the cat), Hans. Go you to sleep vonce more.” Apparently the rancher took her advice, for all grew quiet again and I started tremblingly ahead, after crawling about in the dark till I found my pack. I met with no further mishap until I had worked myself slowly to the street-door, across two pitch-dark rooms, feeling: my way step by

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AN AMERICAN step by sticking out first one foot and then the other to prevent colliding with any of the furni- ture. I was sure my two enemies were both asleep again. I fumbled until I found the door-knob, and then for the first time I dared to take a long breath, believing the worst part of my escape was over, and that in a moment I should be outside and safe. I was feeling terribly nervous, for I hadn’t the slightest doubt in my boyish mind that if the old rancher, should again awaken and discover what I was about he would be so infuriated that he would kill me with- out stopping to count the cost. Therefore my heart seemed literally to jump up into my throat when, upon opening the door very cautiously, it let out a noisy squeak. Then a second time I heard the old man call out sharply: ‘Who is it? Ist du, Her- man? Ist du, Fritz? Ist du, Olifer?” But I was now Outside, had closed the door swiftly until it touched the threshold, and then more cautiously, and bolted as fast as my stall limbs, shaking as they were from nervous apprehen- sion, would permit. By way of explana- tion I should state here that “ Herman” and “ Fritz” were the two hired men. “Olifer” was my puny, frightened self, my name in full being Oliver Wells, although old Lar- sen’s neighbours, doubtless from the slight similarity in our boyish fates, always called me “Oliver Twist ”--— much to the puzzlement, doubtless, of my illiterate foster-parents. My exchequer at this critical moment con- sisted of one dollar and eighty-seven cents ; comprising a one-dollar note, some nickels and dimes, and twenty-seven large, old-fashioned copper pennies. ‘This sum, a vast one to me “(1 BOLTED AS FAST AS MY SMALL LIMBS WOULD PERMIT.” “OLIVER TWIST.” 581 then, had been laboriously accumulated and hoarded during the six years of my “apprentice- ship,” being entirely the gifts of sympathetic; neighbours ; not a penny of it came from the Larsens. It made a great pocketful for my thin: trousers, and running from the house after my escape I had to hold one hand over the open- ing of this ‘treasure sack,” lest I should lose some of it, and cling to my bundle with the other. It was an awkward proceeding ; but I ran on and on for what must have been almost a mile, imagining all the time I could hear someone after me. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, I had to give up and rest. I crept into a hedge by the roadside, pant- ing for breath, and began to listen with all my ears. Almost _ instantly I heard a pursuer, still at some little distance. I was sure of it. I could not somehow hear the sound of running feet, but I could clearly catch the sound of short, laboured _ breathing. My heart leaped into my throat again — and then, after several minutes of awful anxiety, a small, white animal trotted wearily into sight in the dim moonlight, left the highway directly opposite where I lay concealed, and headed for me un- erringly. An instant later my pet fox- terrier, Tacks, the best and, in truth, the only creature I could then call friend and know it to be a fact, leaped upon my recumbent body and began to show his keen joy that the long chase was at an end by pushing his cold little nose against my own and licking my face with his red tongue. I knew it must be near midnight ; I knew, too, that a north-bound train passed Saltair— the Utah resort close to the shores of Great Salt

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582 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. Lake, and the nearest railroad station to the ranch—shortly after one a.m. ‘Tacks and I had still two miles to cover in the next hour, and consequently’ we did not loiter. The baggage-man was just running his trunks and bags out on a big, iron-wheeled dray for the train as I and my faithful four-footed friend tramped wearily through the station- yard and clambered up on to the high board platform, upon the edge of which we at once sat down to rest. That is, I sat down, with my feet dangling over the platform, while Tacks promptly curled himself up in my lap. I had no very clear idea how I was going to get over the road to Butte; I hadn’t paused to think of that. I had a vague idea, though, that it might cost me my entire one dollar eighty- seven cents.* I was on the point of asking the baggage-man —and then I remembered Tacks. I had heard somewhere that dogs were not allowed to ride in passenger-cars. What should Ido? Not for an instant did I con- template treachery to my little companion. I would sooner have walked. Just then the train steamed in. At the rear end of a long string ‘of coaches I noticed a queer-look- ing vehicle, which I have since learned was a tool and repair car. Upon this car were two tiers of swinging shelves, some four feet broad, and reaching from one side of the car to the other. When in service these sus- pended shelves held tool-chests, I believe. This night, — fortu- nately for Tacks and me, they were empty. It was the work of an instant for me, with Tacks held closely in my arms, to hurry to the dark side of the car and preempt the lower Shelf as being the safer from observa- © The fare was then twenty: seven dollars | ‘MIGHT JEST AS WELL JUMY HER HERE, SAMMV,AS ANVWHERES ELSE," 1 HEARD A HOARSE, DEEP-CHESTED VOICE REMARK." Line. tion of these hard berths. Here making a pillow of my bundle, and still holding my runaway companion, I quickly curled myself up, and a few minutes afterwards the train started on its four-hundred-mile run to Butte. Nothing happened out of the way until we reached Cache Junction some three hours later. The novelty of the rattling ride and rapid motion had begun to pall upon me, although for a long time I had enjoyed it hugely. I was fast getting drowsy, when, all at once, while we stood at Cache — probably waiting for some train to come in over the other road that crosses the Utah and Northern* here—-two men came stamping heavily through the cinder road-bed alongside the car and stopped directly at my head. In a second Tacks was ‘wide awake—he had been asleep for the past hour. He started to grumble deep down in his throat, and I promptly clapped my hand over his muzzle, fearing it might be some of the train-men. “ Might jest as well jump her here, Sammy, as any- wheres else,” I heard a hoarse, deep- chested voice remark, to my vast alarm. “You an’ I'd both on us better bunk in together on the top ’un, bein’ there’s room, to kinder help an’ keep one another warm. It’s goin’ ter be a cold ride ’twixt here an’ Dillon.” Before the speaker had finished both men were climbing in on to the upper platform—luckily doing so from the end of it, instead of creeping under the car first, in which case they must surely have discovered us, as the moon was still shining. I was even more frightened than when creeping down the ranch-house stairs a few hours earlier, but I made no sound. * Now the Oregon Short

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AN AMERICAN Finally, the train started North once more. As long as it kept in motion I knew we were safe ; but I was fearful that at some one of the rather infrequent stops our unwelcome com. panions would discover Tacks and me, and I feared—I don't know exactly what. I had a foreboding—the intuition of children and dogs, perhaps—that the men above us were evil and dangerous. Soon, an hour out of Cache, the train stopped for water. A duet of lusty snores from the upper bunk assured me of safety at this point. Tacks, however, who had been sound asleep again, awoke instantly with the cessation of motion, and, not liking the unusual noises that were wafting through the air, threw his sharp-pointed ears forward inquisitively, with his head turned indignantly on one side ; and then, although I had been patting him warningly and whispering to him that he must not growl, he let out a sharp, angry yelp of protest. Instantly the concert above us ceased, and I could hear the two men stirring uneasily. A moment later I heard the same speaker I had listened to before grumble out, angrily :— “Where is dat pup, Sammy? Sounds like to me there’s some- one sneakin’ on us in dat under bunk. Crawl out an’ take a look whilst de train is stoppin’. have anyone get on to our lay.” “Ah! Go on! Crawl out yerself! I’m as done fer sleep as you are, Tobe. An’ anyway, tain’t nothin’ but a stray cur yappin’ around under de cars,” Then the train moved on again, and once more I felt easier. ” This was a small incident, as it eventuated, but it showed me what might happen at any stop ; and hopeful to impress the fact upon my over-zealous canine companion that he must thereafter restrain his perfectly righteous but misdirected and dangerous wrath, particularly since the hint one of the men had now let fall that they were “up to something ”--some dishonest “lay,” I was positive—I therefore gave Tacks as sound a drubbing as the restricted quarters would allow, at the same time grasping him repeatedly by the muzzle to show him what tue punishment was for, and ending by reading him an angry lecture with my mouth pressed closed to one of his little, sharp ears. Lulled by the motion of the cars and being *Iwon't do to “| LISTENED WITH STRAINING EARS, EAGER NOT TO LOSE A WORD.” “OLIVER TWIST.” 583 completely worn out, soon after this last episode I fell sound asleep. When I awoke the train was just steaming into the great yards at Pocatello, Idaho. It was broad daylight—probably sevena.m. Tacks was pushing his cold nose against my face to waken me, but the wise little fellow was making no loud noise, although, as I almost instantly became aware, a low, mumbling conversation was being carried on between the pair occupying the upper shelf. Their voices were too coarse and deep for them to really speak in a safe, confidential whisper ; and no word of their talk escaped me. I heard them because I couldn’t help myself at first, but very shortly, as soon as I began to get the drift of their talk, I listened with strain- ing ears, eager not to lose a word. Now, after the lapse of so many years, even if I desired to I could not repeat their confab literally and faithfully. And as it was chiefly the flash-patter talk of professional rogues, I do not care to attempt it. Suffice it to say I discovered almost at once that the mission of my worthy fellow ride-stealers was for the sole purpose of robbing the depét, or rather the express office, at Dillon, Montana, of a large sum of money! This the express- car on our very train was carrying, billed for Dillon, there to be held until the arrival of a messenger on horseback from an outlying mine, for which the currency was intended. ‘The money had been transferred to our train at Cache Junction from another train, and the pair of beauties above me had evidently been stalk- ing the treasure from its starting-point. They knew they were not men enough to get pos-

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584 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. session of it en route (train hold-ups were not the industry then they are now), and had decided to try to get their hands on it at Dillon station—a smail, rather deserted place—after trains had passed. Failing that, if the messenger should be on hand awaiting it, they intended to way- lay and take it from him. I judged from the comments .of the two that they would not be over-squeamish in the matter of taking life either, in case the solitary horseback rider should put up a fight. That, then, was the rascally plot, the details of which I pieced together from their disjointed conversation. Some .twenty minutes after the train had stopped at Pocatello, the conversation of a group of train-men passing the car enlightened us to the fact that, owing to a wash-out on the Union Pacific-Portland branch, which crosses the Northern road at Pocatello, the Portland- bound train, for which ours always waited, would not arrive until late in the afternoon. Our train was consequently going to remain in Poca- tello for many hours. Directly after we learnt this we began to back, and were shortly run in upon a siding far down in an obscure part of the yard, in order to be out of the way. When we came toa stand on the siding and the last rattle and creak of the wheels had stopped, I could hear my robber companions venting their disappointment at the long wait in no very amiable terms, and with the usual accompaniment of flowery profanity. “There's no use us layin’ cooped up in dis hole all day,” I finally heard the one called “Tobe” grumble, disgustedly. ‘‘ An’ ’side from dat, we’ve got ter hustle round fer some grub. I’m near famishin’ right now. Come on; let’s get out of here fore someone comes round.” This was joyful news to me, you may rest assured ; for [ also wanted to move out of my close quarters, and I knew mighty well that Tacks did. Furthermore, Tacks and I were very hungry. I knew there must be an eating-place at such an important junction—and I still had my one dollar eighty-seven cents. But, of course, we couldn’t stir so long as our unwitting jailers remained on guard. ‘Therefore, I repeat, the announcement of the man Tobe was welcome news to me. I had a half- formed plan in mind, moreover, to watch my chance to meet the “TACKS GAVE A SINGLE LEAP AND FASTENED HIS TEETH IN THE FLESHY PART OF express-man on our train and warn hitfrof the plot the two rascals were developing to steal the money consignment. I knewI should have to confess that I had been stealing a ride in so doing ; but I considered that the express-man’s gratitude ought to be great enough to induce him not only to overlook this, but possibly to offer both ‘Tacks and me a ride the rest of the way in his comfortable express-car. These things had been flashing rapidly through my mind, while the two men above were in the act of crawling out of their narrow berth. One of them, I knew not then which, had already wormed himself out on to the ground from the end of the swinging shelf, the same way as he had crawled in.. Then the second man, with some growling remark about his corpu- lence, decided—-in an evil moment for me, as jit was to prove—that he would come over the side underneath the car and creep out that way. Tacks had been eyeing the proceedings with his head on one side and his ears cocked for- ward disapprovingly, but not a grumble had escaped him. Suddenly, however, a great, ragged-trousered leg dropped down the side of our bunk and a foot began to grope about, searching for the edge of the lower shelf to use it as a step. Imagine my consternation when Tacks gave a single leap towards the intruding limb and fastened his teeth, with the grip of a . bulldog, in the fleshy part of the fat robber’s calf! THE PAT RORBER'S CALF." (To be concluded.)

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From a) THE WEIGH-HOUSE AT ALKMAAR, NORTH HOLLAND, WITH THE FAMOUS FRIDAY CHEESE MARKET (Photo. IN THE FOREGROUND. . A Day With Dutch Cheese. By Epmunp DuGDALE. One of the characteristic sights of Holland is the great cheese market held every Friday in the quaint old town of Alkmaar, about thirty miles north of Amsterdam. Ordinarily, the town itself is empty and lazy, but on market day it is packed with farmers from all parts of North Holland who display their products, in very picturesque fashion, in front of the ancient weigh-house, whence they are dispatched to all parts of the world. This article describes and illustrates the - interesting incidents which may be witnessed by any visitor to this enjoyable fair. N)HE conversation took place in the ) Krasnapolsky a day or two before I left Amsterdam for home, after a fairly comprehensive look at Holland. ‘The group consisted of a newspaper- man, a well-to-do merchant (both of Amsterdam), and myself. We were just finishing our cheese when the merchant said: “There's great art, even in cutting cheese.” “Yes?” I said, inquiringly. “Tt ought to be cut straight,” was the reply ; ‘at least, they say so in Holland, where you would disturb the composure of the house-wife if you didn’t do it properly. ‘Who cuts my Vol. xvii.—74. Ms CAN | cheese like a boat, out of my house he goes,’ says the old proverb, as nearly as I can put it in your language, and it’s a very appropriate proverb, too.” “That reminds me,” I remarked, “that I haven't seen a real Dutch cheese in Holland.” “And what,” ventured the newspaper-man, “is a real Dutch cheese, as you call it?” “Why,” I answered, ‘‘one of the red ones, like those you see in London clubs and restaurants.” “That’s just where you wou/d see them,” said the merchant, with a smile. “ Because,” he continued, in explanation, “we dye them.

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586 THE Occasionally you see them at Edam, when they are just ready for export, and a few may get into the restaurants or houses, where they are known as ‘red balls,’ but usually when cheeses come to us they are yellow. We make them red, because you English people have been bred to the belief that a Dutch cheese ought to be WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. the largest cheese market in North Holland. Alkmaar lies on the railway nearly thirty miles fron. Amsterdam, and apart from its historic associations—for it was one of the brave little places which resisted so successfully the attacks of the Spaniards in 1573—is quite worthy of a visit. Especially is this true on market day, when from early morning till midday the great square of the town is a hive of chaffer- ing and industry. Being out of the beaten track, Alk- maar attracts few visitors, except occasionally same novelty-seeker who, on his. way to the Helder and its remarkable dyke, steps off to see the old weigh-house and the characteristic sight which for many centuries has taken place before it once a week. But I am ahead of my story. On our way to Alk- maar, across the fertile pol- ders which the hardy farmers of the Netherlands have re- claimed, by ceaseless labour, from the sea, my host let THE SQUARE IN FRONT OF THE ALKMAAR WEIGH-HOUSE, SHOWING THE, CHEESES PILED UP IN TWO TIERS, AWAITING SALE AND SHIPMENT. From a Photo, red. So we fall in with your idea and give you what you want.” “ And if the French wanted their cheeses black, or the Germans wanted them ultra- marine——?” “ Certainly.” So that’s why there are no red cheeses in Holland— except those in the store- houses just ready for ship-, ment. The upshot of our little conversation was that the kindly and knowing mer- == * < a. aa Set = - chant became the _ best ci v Lin with. cerone I ever fell in with. | “Sans suv ow Ga You seem __ interested From a Photo. enough in cheese,” he said, “to warrant me in going farther, and if you've nothing to do to-morrow we'll go to a place where you can count cheeses by the thousand, with never a red one in the lot.” Early, therefore, the next morning, which was a Friday, we found ourselves on our way to me into one of the secrets of Holland's strength. “The impression prevails,” he said, “ that Holland is saved from the ravages of the sea by its wonderful system of dykes. Well, that may be, but I prefer to put it in another way. That cow yonder stands between Dutchmen and disaster.”

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A DAY WITH DUTCH CHEESE. 587 We were passing a herd of beautiful Holsteins, peacefully grazing on the polder, each covered with a blanket, strapped around her girth, for protection against the bitter wind and coldness of the night. The merchant continued, “ There is really no need.to explain it. That cow makes milk, milk makes butter and cheese, butter and cheese make money, money It was about eleven o'clock, and the market square was in the throes of activity. Yet—most wonderful was it—there was almost a complete absence of noise, albeit the place was crowded with buyers and sellers of cheese from all parts of North Holland. From above looked down . the tall steeple of the old weigh-house, while builds the dykes, and the dykes fight the sea. In North Holland, at least, the pro- sperity of the country is the prosperity of the farmer, and his prosperity depends upon his cows. It’s a new version of ‘The House that Jack Built.’” With this bit of hard philo- sophy in my mind I stepped from the train and turned along a winding road for about half a mile towards the busy “ waagplein” of Alkmaar. On the way the merchant pointed out how curiously the principal street was built. ‘“ There are two pavements,” he said ; ‘this one made of brick, on which NON THE r EN WEIGHED, AND AKE NOW TO RE LOADED INTO THE BARGES LYING frona) THE CANAL, (Photo. below, in front of the assembled barges in the canals, lay thou- sands of yellow cheeses, like ammunition in an arsenal, upon the granite blocks of the square. Whether from old-time custom or reasons of utility, these cannon- balls of cheese were piled on top of each other in two rows only, as we see them in our illustrations. Nearly all were carefully protected from the sun by large wax-cloths marked with the names of the owners. ‘These coverings, after being lifted to permit examination by the purchaser, would always be carefully replaced. PORTERS CARRYING A LOAD OF CHEESE INTO THE WFIGH-HOUSE—THE SCALFS MAY BE From a\ SEEN IN THE GACKGKOUND, the everyday visitor or common inhabitant walks ; and that one of slate, slightly raised, on which you must not step unless you happen to be a friend of the household. Some of the house- holders, you see, have chained off from vulgar intrusion their own little private pavements.” Had we come upon the scene earlier we might have witnessed the arrival of these hundreds of tons of cheeses from the three or four score villages which cluster around Alkmaar, their discharge from cart or boat, and the animated discussions over the early sales which set the weekly price upon the farmer's product. ‘There is especial need at Alkmaar for the seller to be (Photo.

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588 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. up and about even before sunrise, for no sales take place after two o'clock in the afternoon, and if no sales have been made before that time the farmer has to cart back his cheeses and wait for another Friday. There is little chance to exaggerate in these sales. Cheese tells its own story. If a buyer be sceptical as to quality, he takes a thin steel scoop, runs it into one of the cheeses, examines collision between porters occurs, and the cheeses roll about the square in a confusion made more terrible by black looks and muffled oaths. “It’s a back-breaking business,” commented the merchant, “and it’s good for the porters that market-day comes once a week only. In olden days they used to wear distinctive costumes, white clothes and ornamental hats, but now they look: as much like your navvies as anything else, and the farmers used to decorate their carts with flower-pots, and paint their tail-boards with verses of poetry, just as good Dr. Beets tells you in his famous book. But the old customs are disappearing —with the poetry. More’s the pity!” “Times getting more practical?” I ventured. “Yes,” was the reply, “and existence harder. Rents are higher, and some say the doer is get- ting lazier; but, whatever the reason, the fact re- mains that the Dutch farmer’s life is not a bed of roses. This province of THIS ILLUSTRATION SHOWS THE WOODEN CHUTE DOWN WHICH THE CHEESES KOLL INTO THE PLACED, ONE BY ONE, ON SLIDING TRAYS MOLD OF THE BARGE, WHERE THEY ARE CAREFUL. BUILT BETWEEN DECKS. From a) and tastes, and then nods his head in assent or dissent, as the case may be. The porters are a wonderful lot of men, and by long odds the busiest in Alkmaar. Their labour begins when the first load of cheese is delivered into the square and ends when the last cheese has been carried to barge or wagon. Throughout the day, as if to disprove the belief that Dutchmen never hurry, they move back and forth at a jog-trot with their heavy burdens, making the safety of the on- looker, as the Americans say, a “guessing contest” of the most exciting sort. The litters, or four-handled trays, on which the cheeses are borne, are slung to the backs of the porters by means of-straps which hang from the shoulders and grip the knobbed handles, and are just long enough to allow the tray to clear the ground. Upon these trays are piled up three or four tiers of cheeses, averaging in weight, since each cheese weighs about four pounds, between three hundred and three hundred and fifty pounds. Yet the porters do not appear to mind their heavy loads, nor do the various trays ever seem to get mixed up, except when a North Holland exports about twenty thousand tons (Photo. of cheese yearly, but the prices are low and competi- tion with other countries is made more difficult for us because some of our farmers persist in using antiquated methods. The ‘keezer,’ as we call the cheesemaker, is constantly complaining of his condition and low prices, but part of his trouble is his own fault.” As we stood watching the endless procession of litters passing into and out of the weigh- house, to the incessant clomp, clomp, of the Porters’ wooden shoes, the merchant told me how the cheese was made. ‘“‘ When the farmer or his daughter,” he said, “goes out to milk the cows—and very often they have to go a long distance in a boat—a cheese tub and some rennet are taken along with the milk-cans. On the way home the rennet is added to the milk, and by the time the farm is reached the curd is ready for straining. In about twenty minutes from the time the rennet has been put in the curd is cut with a peculiar knife, shaped like a harp, with wire strings, and the whey is removed, the curd being rolled in the hands instead of being worked, as is customary in modern dairies, by a curd-mill. “Up to this time,” he continued, ‘the

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A DAY WITH DUTCH CHEESE. 589 methods are much the same as in other coun- tries, but now the operations begin which make these cheeses ‘real Dutch cheeses’ as you understand them. The ‘keezer’ uses two globular moulds, in which he now presses the curd in order to get rid of any whey that may remain, then packs the little cannon-ball, as I may call it, in a linen cloth, and subjects it to further pressure in a smaller set of moulds. When the cloths are removed the cheeses are placed for eight or ten days ina series of half-round boxes, during which period they are turned frequently, the cheese-maker adding, with each turn, a bit of salt. Some of the large cheeses are salted for twenty days.” “ But after ten days they are usually ready for market ?” “ Practically,” was the reply.“ They are first cleaned by soaking in water and are polished with oil. Sometimes, in the curing-rooms of the smooth appearance which you see in front of you.” While we were talking together we were interrupted occasionally by the hurrying porters who were bearing their litters of cheese from the weigh-house to the barges in the canal. They seemed to show little consideration for the legs of the idle onlookers, for which fact, by the way, they were partly blameless. It is no easy job, at a dog-trot, to manage three hundred pounds of cheese on a swinging tray. By two o’clock the quay was lined with scores of trays waiting to be emptied. Into the hold of the canal-boat ran a wooden chute, and down this trough rolled the cheeses by hundreds, each being caught by a member of the crew and rapidly placed on a sliding tray. The hold of each of the cheese barges is arranged with racks, and looks something like the inside of a baker's cart with its many pie-shelves, the only difference VIEW OF THE FAMOUS CHEESE MARKET AT HOORN, NORTH HOLLAND, SHOWING HOW THE CHEESES ARE PROTECTED BY WAXED From a) large, modern dairies, the cheeses remain for four or five weeks, and during the last week they are rubbed with new beer, which is said to improve the colour of the cheese. The linseed- oil with which the cheeses are polished before they come to market gives them the wonderfully CLOTH FROM DAMAGE RY THE SUN. (Photo. being that the shelves in the barge are not so close together. Every bit of space is occupied when one of the barges is full, and the cheeses, both on their voyage to the port of final ship- ment and during their period of rest in the warehouses, are handled with the greatest care.

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A SURPRISE VISIT. By G. Saris-SCHWARE. A trying experience which befell the author while acting as manager of the Ussuri Mining Company, Limited, at Vladivostok. Owing to the presence of numberless released convicts and ticket-of-leave men from the penal settlements this city is particularly lawless, and the terrible position in which Mr. Salis-Schwabe found himself is typical of the audacity of its criminals. IAAI HE majority of the population of x ea Vladivostok, the terminus of the lye Trans-Siberian Railway, is there for : . Eas! its country’s good. Most of the lawyers, doctors, and business people, as well as the officials, have either been too liberal in their political ideas, have joined in one of the many revolutionary plots, or, after coming to grief elsewhere earlier in their careers, have found Vladivostok a conveniently obscure abiding-place. The common people—peasants, cab-drivers, and nearly all the lower classes—are either ticket-of- leave men or released con- victs. After condemnation to the Island of Saghalien for murder, forgery, and other serious crimes (capital punish- ment is not inflicted in Russia save in exceptional circumstances), good beha- viour, with perhaps interest, obtains the convict’s release, and he is sent to Vladivo- stok, where he remains under police surveillance, but free to engage in what business he can. As may well be imagined, the result of this system is that Vladivostok is a thoroughly lawless city. It was boasted that for forty roubles (four pounds) anyone could be put out of the way, and highway robberies, murders, and, in fact, all kinds of crimes were matters of daily occurrence. Only a week after my first arrival there a man who was employed by the Standard Oil Company was done to death in a peculiarly revolting manner. He had asked the American commercial agent to dinner, as well as two Englishmen and a friend from one of the steamers in the harbour. After dinner the party went down to the quay to see their friend safely on board, breaking up at eleven o'clock. Next morning early there came news of disaster, and on going to the rooms of their host, whom they had quitted only a few hours before, what THE AUTHOR, MR. G. From a Photo. by K. a sight met the eyes of his guests! ‘The poor fellow’s body was not merely dismembered, but nearly hacked to pieces, and the walls and ceiling were bespattered with blood. No trace of the murderers could be discovered. Other crimes followed. Sometimes the per- petrators were caught, but more often they escaped scot-free, the general belief being that they and the police were in league. One got used to going about armed, and to sleeping with locked doors and a revolver beneath one’s pillow. : The house in which I was living — the establish- ment of the Ussuri Mining Company, Limited — had several large offices on the ground floor, together with a billiard-room and a strong - room, while upstairs were the private apartments, the drawing and dining rooms, the library, the bed- rooms and bathroom; a door opening from a_pas- sage led to the kitchen and servants’ rooms. A_ large door from the street ad- mitted to the staircase of the house, and on entering this one could either go to the office or walk upstairs to the living apartments, where there was another door. One evening I had a dinner-party of some twelve or fourteen guests. While we were in the drawing-room after dinner my servant came in to say that two men had called, asking for me, but that on his telling them I was engaged they had gone. I never found out whether this was part of the plot that was to be enacted later on or not. On the following afternoon, after banking hours, a tenant of some property for which I was agent paid the rent he owed. This sum—six hundred and twenty-five roubles, or some sixty- three pounds—I placed in the safe, in which was another hundred and thirty pounds in Russian notes for current expenses, twenty SALIS-SCHWABE. Ogawa, Tokio.

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A SURPRISE pounds in English gotd, a gold watch and chain, the more important account-books, and the keys of the office tables. It is possible that someone may have seen the rent-money being paid in, but, as what happened afterwards was so well arranged, I do not think it at all probable. After having dinner as usual at eight, I went to the drawing-room and sat down on the sofa near the fire. My servant served coffee and liqueurs, and in a few moments I was miles away from Russia, lost in a book of Indian poetry. Presently a slight noise disturbed me, and SSRVEN MASKFDD MEN Sé PAE ROK WHAT THEIR P looking up I saw the door open. The surprise and horror of the next moment I shall never forget. Seven masked men, with white hand- kerchiefs tied over the lower part of their faces and caps pressed low down on their foreheads, sprang into the room and were upon me before 1 could realize what their presence meant ! I jumped up, only to be catered by a revolver, while two of the robbers seized me by either arm and thrust me into a ehair near the middle of the room, well away from the bell. The lamps were turned down to a mere glimmer ; the man on my right held te by the wrist and pressed a revolver against my temple, while the other one gripped my left wrist and poised a , long dagger just over my heart. Meanwhile the other five proceeded to ransack the house ; I could hear them hurrying from room to room. Every time one of them passed the door the dagger was raised, and the pistol pressed yet harder against my forehead, as a silent reminder of my utter helplessness. 0 OM AND WERE U VISIT. 591 After the first moments of agitation had passed I did not feel frightened, but angry— furious at the thought that I was to finish my life here, now, in such a squalid way, and at the hands of ruffianly thieves. It was highly im- probable that the servants would come near me before the rascals had finished their work. I was absolutely at their mercy. Realizing all this, and remembering the dreadful murders that had occurred only recently in the city, I did not think there was the slightest chance of my life being spared MB GEVOKE 1 COULO REALIZE VRESENCE MEANT ! * when the miscreants had taken all they wanted. IT felt the moment would come when that gleaming dagger would sheath itself in my heart. Never shall I forget that knife! It had a nick near its point and the centre was of dulled steel. Every time anyone passed the door it was raised, as I have said, and in the dim light I waited with sick horror for the inevitable. From what we found out afterwards, the robbers during this time packed up all the plate they could find —tea-pots, coffee-pots, finger-bowls, spoons, candlesticks, and so on— and had thrown the contents of the bedroom drawers and wardrobes on the floor in a fruitless search for other valuables. Soon the door was opened again, and in came the men with their booty wrapped up in handkerchiefs and napkins. While I sat there impotent they took my studs, links, rings, and watch and chain; on this latter, unfortunately, were the keys of the safe. ‘Ihen, leaving me

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592 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. “WHILE I SAT THERE IMPOTENT THEY TOOK MY STUDS, LINKS, RINGS, AND WATCH AND CHAIN.” : to the safe they set to work upon it, but, finding they did not understand how the lock worked, one of the band was dis- patched upstairs for me. In the meanwhile those downstairs were engaged in breaking open all the desks and cupboards — with their hands where pos- sible, but generally with sharp instruments they had brought with them. One of them ripped open a locked gun-case, and in doing so let the implement he was using slip and cut himself severely in the leg, severing one of the larger veins. The blood poured out, and soon there were little pools of it all over the room. Leaving the others, he stood near the door, waiting to be helped out. 7 While this was happening I was dragged out and downstairs. On the staircase were two bell-pushes, and I thought my chance had come,as I might be able to press against one in the dim light without being observed, and so summon the servants from their distant quarters. Vain hope! My captors had laid their plans only too well, and at each step a slight prick of the dagger on my neck showed me that way of help was barred. Arrived downstairs, I was forced through the panel and fell on to the cement floor of the office, into a puddle of blood from the wounded man. Next I was dragged to the safe, compelled to unlock it, and saw the money eagerly seized. The sove- reigns and watch were not noticed. Those in the room wished to divide the cash guarded as before, they went down to the there and then, and a quarrel ensued ; eventu- offices. The main door of the office, leading ally, however, it was all handed over to one man. to' the staircase, was locked, and my chief He placed it in his various pockets, and, Chinese compradore had the key. The robbers finding a silver rouble-piece among it, impudently ran upstairs again and demanded it. I explained that I had not got itand did not know where it was, although to aid my memory I got several pricks with the dagger. Finding the key was not forthcom- ing, the rascals went down again and cut out the upper panel of the door, climbed up, and so ob- tained access to the offices. Going

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, A SURPRISE handed the coin to me—by way of recompense for my services, I suppose. I flung it back at him, and for my pains got my ears well boxed. Presently the villains found the keys of the office tables, unlocked them, and took out the VISIT. 593 patience, lifted me bodily and flung me on the ground. I thought the end had come —that another moment would see the robbers, already infuriated by my refusal to sign the cheque, stab me tothe - “SIGN A CHEQUE FOR FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS,’ SAID THEIR LEADER, FEREMPTORILY.” cheque-books. Speculating uneasily as to their next move, I was pushed through the panel again and dragged unceremoniously upstairs. The lamp was then slightly turned up and the cheque-books placed before me. “Sign a cheque for five thousand dollars,” said their leader, peremptorily. In moments of peril the mind works very quickly, and I knew that if I once signed a cheque all would be finished. ‘hey would either kill me there and then and cash the cheque next morning at the bank at nine o'clock (before which time the servants, finding the door locked, would hardly be likely to have broken into my room), or else they would kidnap me and take me with them. Accordingly, in my halting Russian I told the robbers I was only a clerk and not the manager, and that I had no authority to sign cheques. But they knew better, and the revolver was raised and came down with a thud on -my head. Again this was done, and from a cut the blood began to flow down into my eyes and over my collar and shirt. I had already been dabbled over with blood downstairs, and now, bespattered with my own also, I must have pre- sented a pitiable spectacle. Still I refused to sign the cheque, till at last my tormentors, losing Vol. xvii. —75. heart and decamp. Just then, however, the servants arrived outside in order to take away the coffee cup and turn out some of the lights. Finding the door into the passage difficult to open (it being locked), they shook and rattled it. The robbers had been in the house about half an hour now, and_ having about two hundred pounds in cash as well as half that amount in plate, and probably fearing they would be disturbed, decided they had “enough. Each seized what he had stolen, rushed down the stairs, and slipped out into the street. ‘The one who had been wounded had left earlier. Thankfully I dragged myself to the servants’ door and turned the key. They rushéd into the room, scenting something wrong ; then dashed into the street, to fetch the police. In their hurried flight the robbers dropped a coffee-pot and salver, tied up in a handker- chief, on the stairs, and another parcel of plate had been left just outside the door: The police arrived, noticed the’ faot and finger marks, the size of the cuts on the panel of the door, and took a description of the’ whole event from me. Then came the doctor, and after a hot bath and some bromide I went to bed—but not to sleep. That night, and. for many nights afterwards, as soon as I fell asleep

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594 THE WIDE WORLD I started up with the vision of those seven masked men springing upon me. Next morning the news had spread in the town, and I held quite a reception. Most of my friends, Russians with bristling beards, kissed me effusively on both cheeks—as though I had not been punished enough already ! MAGAZINE. After a week, from what he learnt the police were enabled to make two more arrests, but the other four rascals were never heard of. The three men already arrested, having gained little by their crime, stated that they re- gretted not having made away with me. If they were going to be punished, they said, I sould be “1 STUDIED THE ART OF JAPANESE FLOWER ARRANGEMENT For many days nothing was found out, and, indeed, the only clue seemed to be the hand- kerchief in which the coffee-put had been wrapped. This handkerchief was marked with the letter ““G,” and after a great many inquiries and rather difficult police work it was dis- covered to be the property of a Polish woman who kept a drinking-saloon in the low part of the town. She, of course, denied any knowledge of how it could possibly have been found where it was. The worthy lady was, however, very strictly watched, and the detec- tives discovered that she was on intimate terms with a Caucasian who was already known to them as a suspicious person. After some days he was seen to go into her house, which was promptly entered by the police, who found the man, Grubin by name, hidden in an ottoman. On being charged with the burglary he made some admissions, through which the police were enabled to find out that he was one of the band. He was,put in prison, and all kinds of artifices —some of them, in a Russian jail, very dubious —were employed to make him tell who his accomplices were. A detective was dressed as a rough and thrown into the same cell with him, ostensibly as another burglar, in the hope that he might gain the fellow’s confidence. made away with. The chief of police got to know of these threats, and at an interview advised me to go for a time across to Japan. Two days later I sailed on the Russian Volunteer Fleet steamer Zaméov, bound for Nagasaki. I spent a very pleasant month touring in Japan ; then visited some of the hot springs and studied the art of Japanese flower arrangements. I heard from letters that the three men were going to be tried and expected shortly to be sent to Saghalien, it being supposed that the other accomplices had left the district altogether. One morning I received a telegram in a pre- arranged code, and a week later was back in Siberia. The case had been tried, and my lawyer, holding power of attorney from me, had carried it on very well. It was proved that the Caucasian, Grubin, had committed seventeen murders, and, as the chief of police remarked, it would have been exactly the same to him whether he had added an eighteenth to his total or not. When one has killed seventeen people an extra murder or so does not matter. For these previous crimes and for his partici- pation in the last outrage the miscreant was sentenced to be hanged. The other two men got respectively eight years’ and six years’ penal servitude in the Island of Saghalien.

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A Night on a Bell-Buoy. NaRRATED BY MELVIN PARKER AND SET DOWN BY H. A. HAMILTON. The story of one of those out-of-the-way perils which sometimes fall to the lot of the sailor. The narrative describes the awful experience which occurred to a man who fell overboard unnoticed from a schooner, and was forced to spend many hours on a bell-buoy in the depth of winter. HAD been spending a day at } Nantasket Beach, U.S.A., and was returning by boat to Boston late in the evening, when I chanced to get into conversation with a fellow- He was a man about forty years of passenger. age, somewhat below the average height, broad- shouldered, and _ vigorous-looking. manent weather-tan upon his cheeks, coupled with an in- describable something in his manner and speech, led me at once to conclude that, if not now a sailor, he had certainly been one. He seemed well versed in every- thing connected with Boston Harbour, and as the moon, shining down from a cloud- less sky, lit up the different points and islands which we passed, he had something of interest to relate of almost every one of them. Presently, as we neared Gallop’s Island, the irregular tones of a bell echoed over the quiet waters of the harbour. “Nix’s | Mate,” remarked my companion, as we rapidly approached the beacon and bell-buoy of that name. “Nix’s Mate possesses a peculiar interest for me,” he continued, “on account of a rather unusual experi- ence which I had there some years ago, and of which my left hand here is a permanent reminder.” ; He held up the member in question, and I observed that the third and fourth fingers were missing. In answer to my look of inquiry, he went on :— “I got frostbitten during a night which I spent on the bell-buoy in the depth of winter. My feet suffered too—I am minus one toe.” At once I became keenly interested, and asked if I might hear how it happened. The per- From a\ MR. MELVIN PARKER, WHO RELATED THIS STORY TO THE AUTHOR. Here I may explain in passing that Nix’s Mate is a well-known beacon in the harbour of Boston, U.S.A. It marks a dangerous spit, visible only at low water. The bell-buoy is moored some three hundred yards north of the beacon, and is on the south-west side of the main ship channel, the principal water- way into Boston Harbour. As the boat now steamed past the buoy, the bell clanged loudly as it lurched about on the swell caused by the paddle-wheels ; and with this doleful sound to awaken the echoes of memory my com- panion unfolded the follow- ing tale :— As, doubtless, you have already surmised, I was at one time, like yourself, a sailor, but it is many years ago now since I made my last voyage to sea. In those days I was quite alone in the world, which was probably one reason why 1 had no particular ambition to rise in my profession, but was content to live the life of the average “man _ before the mast” — free-and-easy, happy-go-lucky — taking the present as I found it and letting the future come along as it might. At the time of my story I had been ashore in Boston for some four or five weeks, enjoying a spell after a long deep-water voyage, when one morning I discovered that I had reached my last couple of dollars, and was consequently faced by the necessity of looking out for a ship and getting away to sea again. Berths in coasters were plentiful enough, but that was not what I was after. I had made up my mind to make another long voyage, and as there hap- pened to be a scarcity of foreign-going vessels in Boston at the time I decided to ship in some (Photo.

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596 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. coasting craft just for the run down to New York, where I should be sure to find plenty of the class of vessel I was in search of. Late that same afternoon I was fortunate in finding a small schooner which was to sail in the evening for New York. She was in want of a man, as one of her sailors had failed to turn up at the last moment. I applied for the vacant berth and got it. Shortly before sunset we hauled out of dock, but we made very little progress down the harbour, for the wind was light and unsteady and died completely away as the sun went down; and so we were obliged to come to an anchor. It was about ten p.m. when the mate came along and turned us out, to heave the anchor up. A breeze had sprung up from the westward— just the wind we needed to carry us out to sea. Soon we were under way, bowl- ing along at a good six knots. We were running along towards Long Island, with everything set except the outer jib, a new sail which was not yet bent. I had heard the skipper tell the mate that he might please himself, as to whether he bent it then or left it till morning. The mate, needless to say, decided to have it bent right away. Unfortunately, as it afterwards proved, I was the unlucky man to be sent about the job. I didn’t feel particularly keen over it, for the night was very dark and bitterly cold, the thermometer standing a few degrees below freezing-point. It is more than probable, too, that after my long spell on shore I was not so steady-handed or level-headed as I might otherwise have been. Be that as it may, there was only one thing for it—to set about the job and make as short work of it as possible. With a marline- spike slung round my neck, I groped my way out along the jibboom and, seating myself astride the extreme end of it, commenced bending the sail. The darkness rendered it impossible for me to see what I was doing. I was obliged, therefore, to remove my mitts in order to feel my way at my work, and my hands consequently soon became numbed with the cold. I was getting along pretty well, however, all things considered, and was in the act of pulling some slack sail on to the boom, when suddenly my numbed fingers lost their hold, I over- balanced, and pitched backwards off the boom down into the icy-cold water beneath. When I Tose, gasping, to the surface I instinctively began patie et ee, D AND PITCHED BACKWARDS OFF THE BOOM.” to strike out, for I am a fairly good swimmer. For a moment or two, however, I felt dazed ; my numbed senses failed to fully grasp the situation. Then, all at once, my faculties became quite clear. I looked around for the schooner and discovered her stern-light receding rapidly from me. Acting upon the first and most natural im- pulse, I began to hail her at the top of my voice. Again and again I shouted, watching the glimmering light the while in the hope that she would haul her wind and come to my aid. After what seemed an age of waiting I suddenly lost sight of the stern-light altogether. A feeling of hope grew strong within me, and with straining eyes I strove to pierce the darkness for the first glimpse of her side-light, which must now soon appear if the vessel were turning round.

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A NIGHT ON A BELL- BUOY. 597 But as the minutes succeeded each other and no sign of either side or stern light reappeared, the terrible truth forced itself upon me—my fall had been unnoticed and the schooner was continuing on her course, the stern-light having become obscured by her rounding Lovell’s Island! I now knew that, in the ordinary course of things, my absence would not be discovered until the vessel had passed Boston light and was well out to sea. By that time it would be too late. I must now think and act quickly, for the ice-cold water was chilling the very life-blood in my veins. I must find a way out of my predicament by some means, or speedily perish. But what in Heaven’s name was I to do? I knew that under the conditions it was utterly impossible for me to swim to the nearest land. NIX'S MATE BEACON—IN From a Photo. by\ Meanwhile the flood tide was carrying me slowly up the channel, and presently the half- deadened clang of a bell smote upon my ear, and at once solved the difficulty for me. Nix’s Mate bell-buoy! We had passed close by it only a minute or two prior to my fall. I succeeded without much difficulty in ridding myself of my rubber sea-boots, and, no longer encumbered by their weight, summoned all my strength and struck out desperately for the buoy, guided by the mournful sound of the bell. Soon I caught sight of the ice-coated iron framework supporting the bell on the top of the buoy, and another stroke or two brought me alongside it. By this time I was pretty well spent, and it was not until after I had made several futile attempts that I at length succeeded in pulling myself up on to it. The entire structure above water was covered with frozen snow and ice, which ac- counted for the deadened sound of the bell. Hooking my arm round one of the cross-bars, I stood for a while to regain my breath, strain- ing my eyes meanwhile into the surrounding blackness, although knowing full well that the prospect of assistance being anywhere within sight was remote in the extreme. From my knowledge of the position of the buoy, I knew that the nearest land was Gallop’s Island, which lay over a quarter of a mile off, its snow-covered form looking in the darkness not unlike a huge iceberg. About half a mile up the harbour. was Long Island, which even at that short distance was only vaguely discernible ; while at about the same distance in the opposite direction Lovell’s Island was almost completely blotted out and merged in the hazy distances which formed a background to seaward. Here the steady red glow of the “ Bug” light, and the THE FOREGROUND I5 THE HELL-RUOY ON WHICH MR. PARKER SPENT THE NIGHT, AND THE ON THE LEFT OF THE PHOTOGRAPH IS GALLOD'S ISLAND. (Wercer Bros., L tireless, regular flash of Boston light, seemed only to intensify the deep surrounding gloom. The whole outlook was as cheerless and dis- quieting as could well be imagined. At one time I had thoughts of making an attempt to swim to Gallop’s Island, but I soon abandoned that idea, for I felt convinced that to enter the water again would mean going to certain death. In addition to the intense cold of the water there were numberless jagged cakes of broken ice of all shapes and sizes floating in the eddies around the islands; and a collision with one of these would, I knew, speedily finish me. Plainly, then, I had no alternative but to make up my mind to remain on the buoy until the return of daylight. Then, when the ordinary traffic of the day was resumed in the harbour, I knew that no long time could elapse without bringing a craft of some sort past the buoy. There was just a possibility of something coming

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598 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. that way during the night, but this was a con- tingency so very improbable that it was scarcely worth considering. As I thus narrowed down the possibilities, I began to realize pretty fully the desperate nature of the situation. Bareheaded and _boot- less, my clothing soaking wet through and already beginning to freeze upon me, to spend the remaining hours of the night on that ice- coated buoy with- out a vestige of shelter, in a climate almost Arctic, was a prospect by no means pleasant to contemplate. But although fully alive to the fact that it would . require all my nerve and powers of endurance to enable me to hold out until morning, 1 was far from being dismayed or disposed to lose heart. On the con- trary, being natur- ally of a very sanguine disposi- tion, and blessed with a_ splendid constitution, I felt confident of being able to pull through the night somehow. Little did I think that within the com- pass of the next few hours would be compressed a whole lifetime of suffering ! < As I could not 5 expect to support myself very long in my present position, I now crept inside the iron framework, where, although there was not much space, I could sit on the buoy without the necessity of having to hold on. I next proceeded to squeeze and wring as much of the water as possible out of my clothes, after which I rubbed and pounded myself as well as I could in my cramped position in order to bring some life and warmth into my shivering body. This I repeated at frequent intervals, for I felt that nothing but desperate exertion could “(1 KEGAN TO REALIZE PRETTY FULLY THE DESPERATE NATURK OF THE SITUATION.” save me from slowly freezing to death. But, although I fought hard, there were moments when hopelessness attacked me. By degrees I ceased to exercise myself, and finally there stole over my senses a feeling of semi-stupor which I found impossible to shake off. Cold and stiff I sat there, my gaze riveted with a strange fascination on the ruddy orb of the “ Bug” light—which seemed to my distorted fancy like the eye of some gruesome ogre of the night keeping watch over me—till at last there ensued a space of abso- lute blankness. . How long I re- mained in this condition, uncon- scious of the danger I was in- curring, I have no idea, when I was aroused by the violent rocking of the buoy and the harsh clang, clang of the bell over my head. I opened my eyes and looked around. Large cakes of ice were drifting slowly past the buoy, bump- ing against it as they went and making that pecu- liar“ cheeping ” noise caused by floating ice grind- ing and chafing together. There was quite a sea on, which broke over the buoy and wetted me through to the waist with its icy spray. All this I noted in a vague and indistinct way, being hardly yet in full possession of all my senses. Then, with startling suddenness, I became keenly, acutely wide awake, as I caught sight of some lights moving some distance up the harbour. I knew in an instant that they were the lights of a steamer, but to my dismay I perceived that instead of coming towards me she was moving away from me. It was doubt- less one of those tireless coasting vessels which

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A NIGHT ON A BELL- BUOY. “COLD AND STIFF I SAT THERF, MY GAZF. RIVETED WITH A STRANGE PASCINATION ON THE RUDDY OXB OF THE ‘BUG’ LIGHT. creep in and out of port at all sorts of impossible times and seasons. The vessel had evidently passed the buoy while I slept and was now too far away for the sound of my voice to reach her ! I shall never forget the bitter disappointment which I experienced at this discovery. A sense of numbing despair took possession of me, and for the moment I felt disposed to submit unre- sistingly to an overpowering desire to sleep again. But half stupefied though I was, I had fortunately sufficient sense remaining to realize that such a course must inevitably prove fatal. That the means of rescue had been almost within my grasp while I was unconscious of it was surely no reason why I should abandon myself entirely to despair. It was hard luck, certainly. But, then, might not another oppor- tunity offer at any moment? And, besides, had I not something to be thankful for in the fact that the backwash of the steamer had caused the buoy to lurch about, and thus rouse me from what might have possibly proved to be my last sleep? Daylight, too, I told myself, could not now be very far off. While I had been wholly or partly uncon- scious a very decided change for the worse had taken place in the weather. The temperature had fallen much lower, and it was now freezing harder than ever. The wind had shifted, too, and was now blowing from the northwards—not the brisk, blustering breeze of the early part of the night, but a pitilessly cold, searching wind, that cut like the keen edge of a razor and pene- trated to the very marrow of my bones, 599 I attempted to rise, but found I was scarcely able to move. Every bone in my body seemed frozen stiff, my hair was caked and hard, and the muscles of my face seemed drawn and contracted. My eyes, which had be- fore this watered freely with the cold, were. now painfully dry and felt as though set in hard, cold sockets. As for my hands and feet, they were numbed beyond all sense of feeling. In sheer desperation, however, [I sum- moned what strength remained to me, and slowly and _ painfully dragged myself intoan upright position. Steady- ing myself against the iron superstructure around me, I tried to restore circulation to my feet by stamping. When I had in a measure succeeded and was able to stand without support, I turned my attention to my hands, which were in a truly pitiable condition, swollen and lifeless. I clapped and rubbed them with all my might, but for a long time it seemed as though I would never again restore a sense of feeling to them. But still I persevered, and at length had the satisfaction of experiencing that almost un- bearable sensation of tingling and pricking caused by the first slow movement of the chilled blood. It must have been about this time that I became aware of the unpleasant fact that the third and fourth fingers of my left hand were badly frostbitten. I gave little thought to this at the time, however, my mind being too fully occupied with the more urgent question as to what I should do to prevent myself giving way to sleep again, and if possible cheat the terrible fate which so surely seemed to await me. I must not sit down again until sheer exhaus- tion compelled me. It was still quite dark and I had no means of ascertaining how far the night was spent, how long I should yet have to wait for morning to bring with it some definite assurance of help. And so through the weary, lagging hours I stood, cold and rigid, wondering from time to time, with a curious feeling of perplexity, whether indeed the day would ever come.

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600 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. What was the actual duration of my strange vigil I can never tell. Hours doubtless it was, though, gauged by the misery and suffering of it all, it might have been weeks, or even months. And thus the time wore on, till presently— “as though I had not been longing for it with every pulse of my being—I realized, with an actual thrill of surprise, that the darkness was gradually disappearing ; the long-looked-for dawn was coming at last! As the light strengthened and grew upon the sky, the vague outlines of the adjacent islands began to take definite shape. Eagerly I turned my gaze seawards, but no signs of any vessel could I see in that direction. I next looked up the harbour, where a number of ships lay at anchor a long way off, but no peculiar rippling and lapping of water caused by the bows of a small boat under sail. ‘Turning to look in the direction whence it came, to my surprise and intense relief I beheld a small fish- ing-boat swinging along under a press of canvas. Apparently out from Hull Gut, she was heading so as to pass close to Nix’s Mate. Nearer and nearer came the boat, and I found myself—so strangely does the mind work in such times of stress—criticising the cut and set of her sails. Then suddenly, as I watched, she shot sharp up into the wind, her sails came down with a clatter, and a moment later a pair of long oars were making her fairly jump to- wards the buoy. My rescuers proved to be a couple of Portu- guese fishermen on their way up to Boston to dispose of their night’s catch. With many “NEARER AND NEARER CAME THE WOAT." craft of any kind was moving, so far as I could discover. But with the coming of day my hopes were reviving, and I told myself that it could only be a question of a very short time now till some- thing came along my way. Nor was it long before my hopes were justified. As, with wearied eyes, I swept the channel above and below, I was suddenly startled by a strangely familiar sound from quite an unexpected quarter—the expressions of sympathy and surprise they care- fully transferred me to their boat, and without further delay set sail and stood away up the harbour. A few weeks’ careful nursing put me on my feet again, but it is questionable whether a man ever recovers completely from the effects of such an experience ; and I need scarcely add that the loss of my two fingers and toe serves to keep the memory of that awful night vividly before me.

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Bear-Hunting in the Arctic. Top By Caprain Jay JENSEN AND SET DOWN BY ERNEST R. SUFFLING. For an unbroken period of eleven years Captain Jensen lived alone among the Eskimos in the dreary wilds of Baffin Land. In this absorbing article he relates some of his perilous experiences with Polar bears, and also the strange story of his feud with the witch-doctor Drakana, who had decreed the white man’s death. Gee THOUGH from its tremendous | size the Polar bear, especially in wild state. shambling gait, is very considerable; a man His speed, in spite of his loose, muffled in the usual hunter's costume —a sealskin jacket and bearskin breeches —has but a poor chance of escape if pursued by a full- grown “nenook,” as the Eskimos call the animal. Among the whole bear tribe the Polar bear is king, both for size and courage, and I have shot several measuring over ten \ feet from tip of snout to the root of the short tail—a size that not even the largest grizzly bear ever at- tains. As to the weight of some of the very largest I have shot 1 cannot speak with pre- cision, but from the number of “loads” (the full burden of one man) I am con- fident that they occa- sionally weigh — up- wards of half a ton —that is, eleven hun- dred pounds ! As regards mere weight, much depends upon the time of year a bear is killed and whether food is plentiful or not, as some of the largest bears I have killed were by no means the heaviest, because they had probably come from the northern part of Baffin Land, a thousand miles away, over rugged mountains and everlasting glaciers, where there is little to be found for their sustenance. In such cases, in winter, a bear is very thin and poor as to flesh, although his pelt may be in splendid condition—long, thick, and nearly pure white. Such animals, however, are then fit for any mischief ; a man to them is meat, Vol. xvii.—76. CAFTAIN JENSEN'S STATION IN THE WILDS OF BAFFIN LAND. From a Photo, and meat is a meal, so they think no more of the matter, but come straight to take that meat before it escapes. In such bears the hunter meets with a formidable enemy. I have been asked if I can relate, for the benefit of Wipe Wortp MaGazine readers, any adventures that have befallen me during my eleven long years of hunting with the Eskimos in the wilds of Baffin Land. 1 can tell several such, and as I do so can only wonder that I am still alive to recount them, for I have on several occasions { during my winter bear-hunting literally shaken hands — with death. Here is an adventure the scars } of which I shall bear / with me to my grave. ' One night in March, 1896, I was sitting in an ‘glo (snow-house) _ playing with the wife and children of a hunter named ‘Toolarko at a game called by the awful name of Afakke- gear-hatt-oktoot, a simple pastime played with little figures of birds carved from ivory. Suddenly Toolarko and Myank came rushing in, yel- ling, ‘ Nelyak - soak , Nenook, nenook ! Soot, soot!” This meant, “Captain! A bear! a bear! Shoot, shoot!” the last words being their attempt at English pronunciation. I hastily put on my outdoor clothing, seized my Winchester, dropped a handful of cartridges into a sealskin bag, which I slung round my neck, and followed the natives out into the night. At first it appeared very dark, but my eyes soon became used to the dim light —indeed, in these regions it is seldom what one might call pitch-dark because of the glint of the snow. We hurried along, trotting all three abreast until, after going perhaps half a.mile, I had to call a

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602 THE WIDE halt; I had imprudently commenced running too soon after leaving the warm Zg/o0, and the cold air seemed to cut my lungs like a knife. Giving my gun to Toolarko to hold, I lay down full length on my back on the snow, so as to recover myself. Between my pantings I asked where they had seen the bear and how far it was away. Ere they could reply we heard a snuffling in rear of a piece of upstanding rock close behind us. The next moment an enormous, gaunt-looking Me et bear shuffled silently from behind the boulder and confronted us. Toolarko thrust my rifle into my hand as I rose to my feet and bounded behind the rock which the bear had just quitted, but Myank foolishly hurled his walrus-harpoon, without which no native ever ventures forth, straight at the bear’s head. He struck the bear full in the cheek, causing a great spurt of blood, and for his pains received a blow on the shoulder which sent him flying yards away ; but the weapon failed to hold, and did not for an instant check the onrush of the furious animal, which charged straight at me, rising on his hind legs as he did so. He evidently surmised that it was I who had struck him ; anyway, for the moment my heart appeared to stand still as the great beast towered above me, swaying his huge arms as if about to under- take a pugilistic encounter with me. He came at me so quickly that I had not time to raise my rifle to my shoulder, but judging the position “THE BEAST HAD STRUCK ME ON THE SIDE OF THE HRAD.” WORLD MAGAZINE. of his heart I pulled the trigger. To my intense horror the cartridge missed fire ! My next recollection was of waking up with an awful headache and a stiff sensation in my jaws as I tried to call out. Then I heard Toolarko's voice at my side bidding me lie still, and felt his hand on my chest, pressing me down. What had happened, I discovered sub- sequently, was this. When my rifle missed fire the beast had struck me on the side of the head with his huge fore-paw, and had torn a V-shaped piece of my scalp from the skull. Myank’s arm was broken by the blow he had received, and only Toolarko remained to deal with the ferocious animal, which had drop- ped on all fours and was licking the blood from my wound. Taking advantage of the bear's back being towards him, ‘oolarko stole from behind _ his friendly rock and launched his heavy harpoon with all his strength at the animal's side, burying the head deeply in its ribs. Thereupon the bear began to snap at the wound with its great fangs and to roll over in the snow, causing the shaft of the harpoon to fall out, leaving the head buried in the flesh, with twenty yards of line trailing from it. Presently Toolarko was able to secure the rifle, which lay a few yards from my senseless form, and having done so he took careful aim at the bear’s neck—just at the vertebra—and fired, or rather tried to, but again no explosion followed the pulling of the trigger. By this time, however, Bruin felt so uncom- fortable that with awful roars of pain and rage he trotted off northward, leaving little spots of crimson in his huge footprints. Now, having disposed of his enemy, the brave Toolarko turned his attention to Myank and me. He placed his friend beside me as [ lay unconscious on the snow, and, with his snow-knife, in half an hour: built a snow iglovigak over us. He then bound up my wound by putting the flap of scalp in place and tying a strip of his sealskin coat round my head and jaw. He was about to see to Myank’s arm when consciousness-returned to me,

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BEAR- HUNTING Isent him off to the village at once for a sledge and help, which soon arrived. I was placed in bed, and by the help of a piece of looking-glass was enabled to see the nature of my wound. It looked ghastly, but after a stiff cup of rum and water I got my native house- keeper, Illiatingwa, to put three stitches of fine deer sinew into the flap of scalp so as to bring the edges into contact, and she did it very well, covering the wound up with a lump of seal blubber and binding it in place with soft bird- skin. I was well in a fortnight, thanks to the pure air and my own good constitution. A few hours after my own wound was dressed, when I awoke from a soothing sleep, I set Myank’s arm, using some pieces of deer antlers as splints ; and, without boasting, I may say I made an excellent job of it, so that he recovered the full use of his strong and needful right arm. Although my relations with the Eskimos were always conducted on a friendly basis, and my knowledge of their language and customs caused me to be regarded almost as one of themselves, yet there was no get- ting over the fact that there was the insur- mountable barrier of a difference of blood and of religion between us. No one in the tribe, however, took any cognizance of this except the angekok, or witch-doctor, and that only on one occasion—an occasion which for some three weeks caused me to go in great fear of my life. Before relating my experience I must say a few words as to the angekok and his powers. Among the Eskimos there is no chief, as the word is understood by other savage races all over the world, but each tribe has its “‘witch-doctor.”. This individual, with his medicine-bag containing all kinds of tubbish, performs incantations to cause a cessation of wind, to propitiate and calm rough seas, and to bring seals and walrus to the hunter. If any of the tribe are ill he is called in and brings his Az/oon, or skin drum, and his bag of charms with him. He then commences an incantation of howling, drumming, and dancing before the sick person. If the person dies, then the spirit has so willed it, but the axgehok has so far prevailed that the soul of the departed will, by his aid, go straight away to “ Kood-le-par-me-ung” (the world above the clouds), as they call their heaven, although they have no knowledge of God as we know Him. If the person recovers from the sickness, then the angekok triumphs and takes any article he wishes from the tupek (house) of the convalescent. It IN THE ARCTIC. 603 will thus be seen that the witch-doctor scores in either event. In the occult powers of this barefaced charlatan every member of the tribe has implicit faith, and it is curious to note what strange effect this unquestioning belief has on individuals. They firmly believe that he can so charm them that they will die if he wills it, and though to enlightened Europeans this may appear absurd, yet on three occasions I have witnessed the death of persons upon whom a witch-doctor has cast a spell, and that without any violence or poison. Two young women and an old man were the victims I thus saw tricked out of their lives. Take the case of Annook, a young woman of seventeen. I need not give the reasons for the spell being cast, but this was the modus” operandi, The angekok, Drakana, went upon ““DRAKANA WENT UPON AN EMINENCE AND HEAT HIS DKUM FOR A CONSIDERABLE TIME.”

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604 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. an eminence, a cluster of gneiss rocks near the village, and beat his drum for a considerable time, howling and working himself into a frenzy in the meantime. Then, extending his right arm, he pointed successively north, east, south, and west, shouting the girl’s name, ‘“ Annook,” as he did so, and leaping into the air. Next he thrust a long splinter of whale rib in a cleft of the rock, and hung upon it a little skin bag of medicine. So the incantation was inaugurated. Of course, I looked upon this as mere tom- foolery, but not so poor Annook, who was simply terrified at the spell which had been cast upon her. Nothing I could say would pacify her; her belief was that she had to die, and that no power could save her. Then, night after night, Drakana would patrol three times round the ¢fek in which the luck- less Annook lived, beating his drum and howling his spell, and day by day the girl sickened and faded, losing her appetite and becoming a mere skeleton. 2 a month she was dead | How do I account for it? Simply thus: Annook had an implicit belief in the spell of the axgekok, She was an ignorant girl, without will power, and the pros- pect of approaching dissolution, after affecting her mentally, naturally threw her bodily health out of gear. Her appetite failed, her strength collapsed, and exhaustion finally caused her death. It was simply a case of death by suggestion. By and by came my turn, and I too was marked for death; but notice the craftiness of the wizard. He knew very well that he might go upon the rocks, yell, and beat his skin kiloon till he split it, but it would have no terrors for me. I was a non-believer in his mummery, and he was fully aware of it; but, nevertheless, he came within an ace of compass- ing my death in another way. Drakana, the wizard, was a cripple ;_ his right hand was malformed so that he could not hurl the deadly harpoon, and his left hand had two fingers missing ; yet at times, to the wonder- ment of the tribe (myself included), he killed the mighty Polar bear. He was a wandering, morose, sinister-looking fellow, beloved by none, but feared by all; and sometimes he would be absent two or three days with his dogs and sledge, returning with the carcass of a bear he had killed. How did he do it, weaponless as he was? That was a question I puzzled over for two or three years. At length, one day, my chance came to solve the mystery. He confided to me that he wanted ‘“nenook” meat and must go and look for a bear. Foolishly I resolved to follow him. As soon as he was out of sight 1 harnessed my dog team and, mounting my sledge, went after him. For fifty miles I followed his sledge track over the snow, and then a curious little incident happened. The centre dog of my team (they run abreast, not in pairs in a line) stopped sud- denly, throwing the whole team into confusion and jerking me off the sledge. The rascal had something in his mouth, which I took from him. It was a large piece of frozen blubber bound round with a thin filament of deer sinew. Pro- bably Drakana had dropped it from his sledge, I thought; but why had he thus bound it? Giving way to my curiosity I took out my knife and cut it open, to find inside three pieces of stout whalebone, pointed at each end. ‘They were bent in the form of the letter U, but sprang out straight on being released. ‘This gave me an idea which I decided to sleep on; accord- ingly I made a snow-house, fed the dogs, and turned in for a few hours. I was up and away early, and had not gone half-a-dozen miles when I saw a bear rolling on the snow; so, disengaging the dogs to harry the quarry, I followed as quickly as possible on foot. The animal could not stand, but was growling and rolling himself in the snow, making but a feeble resistance to the onslaught ot my eight savage dogs. This, of course, surprised me, as 1 had never seen a bear act so strangely before, and I naturally surmised it to be wounded, though I saw no blood. Calling the dogs off I killed the monster at the third shot with my handy Winchester, and proceeded to skin and cut up my prize. When I disembowelled the animal I noticed that the stomach was bleeding. With the remembrance of my curious find of the previous day in my mind, I took my knife and slashed it open, when Drakana’s mysterious method of killing bears was at once revealed. The stomach was pierced by a number of whalebone spikes similar to those I had cut from the piece of blubber. Evidently the deadly implements were embedded in the blubber and tied with sinew as I have described, being placed so that the bear would find and eat them; then as the food digested the whalebone would be released, piercing the unfortunate animal’s stomach and so killing it. While I was loading the meat upon the sledge my dogs began to bark, and, looking round, I saw Drakana coming towards me on his sledge, evidently following the track of the bear. On his arrival 1 was the recipient of volleys of vituperation, which so raised my wrath that my finger trembled on the trigger of my rifle. I calmed myself, however, and \

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BEAR- HUNTING IN THE ARCTIC. 605 "1 SAW DRAKANA COMING TOWARDS ME ON HIS SLEDGE.” listened to my threatened doom. It was in vain that I told him I would keep his secret ; he was beside himself with rage and told me that I should be dead before the moon died—in about a fortnight’s time ! I packed my bear-meat on the sledge and laughed in the frenzied witch-doctor’s face, tapping my rifle significantly. On reaching the station I feasted the whole tribe. Faithful to his promise, Drakana next day cried my name from the hill-top and came round the station every night yelling and drumming till I felt it would be a benefit to the whole tribe if I were to put a bullet through his howling carcass. As he had caused the death of at least three innocent persons he richly deserved it, but I could not degrade myself to the level of a murderer. On the fourth night a hunter named Tooliboot came to me much agitated, and informed me that he and two others had been commanded by Drakana to kill me; the alter- native being that unless they carried out his instructions he would “ call them from the hill ” —i.e., cause them to die. So much were these three poor fellows in Drakana’s power that I quite believe, much as they respected me, they would have carried out his instructions by harpooning me had I ventured from the station. So for more than a fortnight I was practically a prisoner, barring the door of my hut, bringing the dogs indoors nightly for protection, and lying down with my revolvers beside me. By Drakana’s orders I was boycotted by all, and, but for my plentiful stores, I should have been literally starved to death. ] was indeed in a dilemma, and at last sent for Drakana to see how I could mollify him and so get my death-sentence annulled. With my assurance for his personal safety, he came to me and we held a long palaver with closed doors. He conceived his professional reputation to be in jeopardy from the secret I had discovered, and was wroth at my denouncing his spells before the whole tribe and at my attitude in not bowing to his authority. Perhaps I might have bought his friendship by gifts of a few trade goods, but that would be a dangerous and possibly fatal precedent to set to the whole tribe ; to dévy immunity from danger would be to show fear, and as a great white man I must be superior to any threats the angekok could fulminate either against me ‘or other members of his tribe for the future. And here is how—with a tremendous amount of inward quaking—I brought it about. Remember, I was the only white man for a distance of three hundred miles (the next station being at Black Lead Island, to the north), and totally in the power of the people had they chosen to slaughter me in an un- guarded moment and drop me through an ice- hole. I therefore deemed subterfuge permissible. Among my effects I had a double-ended box, one of a set of conjuring apparatus I had bought when in Boston, and, with this to aid me, I awed and conquered the angekok for ever. I made him a speech—in which, I am afraid, I did not adhere strictly to the truth, for I told him that the box had come to me from the gods and conferred upon me the power of imprisoning the ¢arnak (literally, soul) of any angehkok who wished to harm either myself or any of my friends. “See,” said I, “here is your farnak” (ex-

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606 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. hibiting a little wooden figure of a man an inch high, which I pretended to clutch from the air near where Drakana was sitting). “I place it in this box, shut the lid, and give it a shake—so! Now I take the lid off and your tarnak has gone; it has vanished! What will you do now?” The effect was instantaneous. The witch- doctor had found a bigger humbug than himself. He grovelled at my feet, abjectly promising any- thing I demanded. ‘Go forth,” I said, “and bring everyone here to my door and tell them of- my power. Take your little spell from me and from my friends Tooliboot, Ranga, and Sin- nipah, and_pro- mise never to kill another man, woman, or child, and I will promise to re- lease you from my big spell.” He went forth, the wondering natives came around my dwelling, and I made Drakana give his promise and then ex- hibited the wonderful box empty. A twist, and there’ was the little sarnak. A throw, and it had apparently disappeared into some part of Drakana’s body. He never troubled me again. Perhaps the strangest adventure I ever had with a bear was on the shore of Countess of Warwick Sound, in Frobisher Bay, just opposite the island of Kodlunarn (White Man Island), where brave old Martin Frobisher wintered in 1576, when he was sent over by Queen Elizabeth to explore Meta Incognita, as it is still called. I have often been upon the little island, which is not more than about fourteen or fifteen acres in extent, and there is still some of the coal there which the old sailor left more than three hundred years ago. Well, one summer's day—it was in mid-July—I “HE GROVELLED AT MY FEE1, ABJECTLY PROMISING ANYTHIXG I DEMANDED,” was sitting on the shore of the mainland watch- ing the icebergs lazily floating by and noticing the wonderful manner in which the sun had fretted them into peaks, gables, flying buttresses, and caves, when presently one of them paused near me, staggered, and turned round, finally coming to anchor on the bottom of the bay on the falling tide. I sat and watched it for some time; then it came into my head, as I watched the drift-ice bank itself between me and the berg, forming a kind of bridge or causeway, that I might walk out and get on the berg and have a look round, just for the fun of the thing—to kil time, in fact, which in thes: dreary regions often hangs heavily on one’s hands. Away I went, like a schoolboy, over the crack- ing, slippery causeway, and climbed on the iceberg _ itself, the first I had ever been on, although I had seen thousands go silently glid- ing by my sta- tion, looking like great lustrous jewels by day and ghostly fairy castles by night. I walked and floundered about, avoiding the great pools of water which had collected in the hollows, and frightening a flock of razor-bills that were sun- ning themselves on a ledge above my head. Then an idea came into my head that I would like to climb up to the shoulder of the berg and survey the water around to see if I could discover a seal. I looked about for a way up, but for some time could not find one. At last, however, I made up my mind to try and climb a crack or cleft in the ice wall which appeared to give access to the ledge I had my eye on. I stood my gun, an ordinary twelve-bore shot-gun, against

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BEAR - HUNTING apiece of upstanding ice and commenced my climb. It was a very difficult piece of work, but the pliant soles of my skin boots bent to the little knobs or crannies of the ice, and presently I reached a kind of shelf some ten or twelve feet above, where I stopped and turned round to regain my breath. I was in a little angular nook or crevice only about three feet broad at its widest part, and I still had another ten feet to climb to reach my desired look-out platform. ‘Try as I would, however, I could not get more than half-way up, and at length, panting and perspiring, I resolved to give up the attempt for fear I might slip and break my neck on the hard ice below. I had got down to my little shelf, and turned round to regain my breath before scrambling down to the base of the berg again, when, to my surprise, I saw a bear looking up at me from below with his little eyes blinking, his red tongue lolling out, and his breath quietly steaming out into the invigorating atmosphere ! My surprise gave place to a sort of chuckle as I thought of the absurd position I was in, and I imagined how the natives would laugh when I told them of my adventure, for they are a merry people, and love a piece of fun as well as anyone on earth. Then it occurred to me_ that possibly I was in a very awkward predica- ment—that I was trapped, in fact, for I had no means of getting away from my icy prison. * Presently the bear went and looked at my gun and sniffed it. Finally he rolled it from its upright position, where he gave it a pat with his paw. Next he returned to the foot of my crevice, sitting down on his haunches and looking up at me with a knowing leer, almost a smile, as much as to say, “Well, why don’t you come down and chat with me? I am only making a_ friendly call and should be very pleased to shake hands with you.” We regarded each other with equani- mity, but I tired first, and in a short time began to realize my position. I was sur- “ SAW A REAR LOOKING IN THE ARCTIC. 607 rounded on three sides by ice, in a kind of standing coffin, and not a ray of sunshine reached me, for I stood in the shadow of the berg. What was to be done? How should I act? I was simply helpless, entirely at the mercy of the ugly beast at my feet. I began to grow cold and hungry. I had had no food for four or five hours and there was not a scrap of anything eatable about me. There lay my gun not more than twenty feet from me, but had it been in my hands it would have been use- less, for it was only a_ double - barrelled shot-gun, and against a bear rather an irritating than a deadly weapon. Another hour went by and I grew colder and more hungry ; but there lay the bear, still patiently waiting for his meal—me ! At length I found my limbs growing numb and my feet and ankles up to the knees were like icicles, and appa- rently as stiff and brittle. At this period I was undoubtedly becoming fatally chilled, and won- dered if I should freeze to death stand- ing bolt upright, and, if so, how strange I should look if any- one discovered me after I was dead. Something must be done. I appa- rently had the choice of being either frozen to death or eaten— or would the rising tide float the berg out to sea, so that slow starvation would be my lot? Which death should I choose ? With much pain I bent my limbs sufficiently to slip down in a sitting

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608 THE position, with my poor numbed legs dangling helplessly over the icy ledge upon which I had been standing, and wondered how it would end. Strange as it may seem, I tried to remember some portion of the “Service for the Burial of the Dead,” for I had given up all hope of being alive in another hour. And then—then the miracle happened, for a miracle I shall always believe it. On the edge of the iceberg, not twenty yards away, stood a great fragment of ice, the dwindled remains of a buttress, now some eight or ten feet high. Suddenly from behind it there rose from the sea a large ookjook seal,* which at once began its cough-like bark as if calling to others not in sight. | In a moment the bear was on his feet and crawling noisclessly on his stomach towards the ice hummock behind which the new-comer lay. Then with a bound he leapt, not upon the seal, but straight into the sea, rising again instantly. He had cut off his quarry’s retreat. The seal gave a bark of terror, but, rising to his full height upon his flippers, met the onslaught of the bear boldly. The fight was terrific, but having claws as well as fangs the bear had a great advantage over the big seal, which, with its great teeth glistening and the curious bladder upon its nose distended to its full extent, looked a most ferocious creature. For a long time the seal’s bravery and tough hide made the battle a severe one, and the bear's nostrils were nearly torn from his snout, but with teeth and claws he gradua.ly prevailed, and the great bladder seal at length succumbed. In the meantime I had partly roused myself by attempting to climb from my perch, but in my frozen condition my muscles refused their office and I came down headlong upon the ice- foot with a shock which jarred every bone in my body. But I was down, and that was something to be thankful for. I sat up and found I could reach my gun, but that was all; I could not move away yet, so I sat and watched the bear begin to enjoy his gory meal, looking up at me occasionally as if to say, “ Keep there; I wilt have you for dessert.” The more he ate, however, the better chance there was for me; he would probably satisfy himself and go away. The suspense was awful, but my nerves are strong. Ere long I got bold and beat my legs with my fists to restore anima- tion, I buffeted my arms for the same purpose, and in about a quarter of an hour essayed to crawl a little farther from the gorging bear. “The ookjnsk seal (Phoca barbata)is the largest seal in northern seas, and frequently measures ten feet in length, When excited it raises a peculiar bladder-like crest on its nose. WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. I removed myself a few yards, looking over my shoulder as I crawled painfully along, but had not gone far when the bear, licking his chops with his long red tongue, came leisurely towards me. I sat up on the ice, and when he was within four yards of me I fired both barrels straight at his head. Doubtless I blinded him, for he fell down and wallowed, drawing his paws repeatedly over his eyes. ‘Then he got up and staggered away with hesitating steps along the foot of the berg. Quickly I turned over upon my hands and knees, crawling over the ice barrier to the shore, which I reached after several severe falls. With the exertion my blood began to course through my veins again and restored animation, so that I was able to get to the shelter of the cave which served me as a domicile. Once there I covered myself up warmly and slept for some hours, feeling so refreshed when I awoke that I was able to return to the scene of my adventure and bring away the mangled hide of the seal. ‘The bear | saw no more; neither did I venture on any more icebergs to look for him. Another adventure which gave me a fright at the time it happened occurred at a place we called Terienniak Korok (Fox Valley). ‘This was about twenty miles from my station, and overlooking Frobisher Bay. I had taken a native known as Sinnipah (“The Sleepy One ”) with me to see if we could obtain a few geese for our larder, as it was late autumn time, and for that purpose we had food, a cooking-lamp, and a frying-pan with us. Our arms consisted of a rifle, a shot-gun, and, of course, a harpoon. ‘To sleep in we had built ourselves a cosy iglovigak, and were very comfortable and happy, having shot some geese, eider-ducks, and a brace of king-ducks, besides some ravens, which the natives stew with moss and seal’s blood. ‘Then we retired to rest after smoking our pipes and closing with snow the hole at which we crawled in. We were snoring away very contentedly when I awoke with a queer feeling of oppression at my chest. As I opened my eyes in the pitchy darkness of the dome-shaped snow-house, | mechanically put my hand to my chest and came in contact with something wet and shaggy ! For a moment I could not decide whether I was awake or dreaming, but suddenly I roared out, “ Sinnipah, Sinnipah! Nenook!” It was a Polar bear who had thrust his huge paw through the snow wall and was feeling about for what was inside! I was so confused that for the moment I could not move, but Sinnipah was up instantly and with a bound burst bodily through

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BEAR - HUNTING the yielding wall of the ze/ovigak, an example T quickly followed. We both ran like madmen in diverging direc- tions, being quite unarmed, for guns are never taken into snow dwellings, as they would become red with rust in asingle night from the breath of the sleepers ; they were in their skin cases, made into a tripod with the harpeon for the third leg, standing close to the wrecked ig/ovigak. It was pitch-dark, but after running a couple of hundred yards I stopped and knelt down to listen. I could hear Sinnipah still running, not IN THE ARCTIC. 609 The native was already inside the ig/ovigak, clearing out the broken snow- blocks, when, close behind me, I heard a peculiar noise, which I can only describe as a “ blowing sniff.” I knew at once that it was the bear, and instantly dropped on both knees, to get my face as low down as possible, so as to have the animal between myself and the sky-line. I could just see the indistinct shape of the bear and hear it breathe as, head down, it came towards me. I raised my Winchester, aimed at what I supposed was the animal’s head, and fired. “1 RAISED MY WINCHESTER AND FIRED.” far from me, but no sound of the bear. I whistled to Sinnipah, and, under my breath, called “ Kailerit !” (come here), and he at once rejoined me. Then we held a whispered con- sultation, Snow-clouds covered the sky, though no snow was falling, rendering the darkness intense. We decided, after a while, to crawl back on our hands and knees to our weapons. Without a word, back we went; nothing happened and we saw no bear. I secured the rifle, already loaded, and we decided to restore our snow-house and get a few hours’ more sleep. Vol, xvii. —77. There was a dull, soft thud ; I fired again at the place where the bear had stood, and then jumped up and ran. No sound, no sight of the bear did we get, so we crawled back after a time to investigate. There was the animal, a medium- sized female, stone-dead. The first bullet had entered through the forehead, just above the eyes, gone clean through the skull, and then into the spine; death must have been instan- taneous. This is very unusual, for it is seldom a bear is killed with a single shot, and [ have known one to take more than twenty bullets before being hit in a fatal spot.

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Pat Ryan’s Gold-Mine. By L. W. A. Macartuur, F.G.S., J.P., ETC. The author is a well-known Australian mining expert and geologist. In this exciting narrative he pales how a gang of rogues imposed upon a credulous Irish farmer, together with many other people. Mr. Macarthur was called in to examine and report upon the supposed Golconda, where- upon a series of unexpected events took place. Mj T is much to be regretted, for the general furtherance and progress of the gold-mining industry, that a “salted” mine is not altogether a vara avis in Australia; but for absolute, unadulterated audacity the following episode, which occurred in the Wellington district of New Zealand, takes front rank in my experience. Upon returning to Wellington after a visit of inspection to a gold-mine at Terawhite, I found the following curious letter awaiting me, marked “ Urgent” :— “‘S1r,—There’s a party of men as calls themselves miners has got the hold on a bit of my land. They say that it is thick with gold, and has showed me some gold what they washed with their dish. Now, as I know nothink about the gold bisness, I’ve been told by a naber to get your vuse on things; so want ter make my bisness fer yer to come out ter my farm. I'll drive yer out if yer write me a note when ter call.— Yours respally, PATRICK RYAN. “P.S.—-I live abote ten miles more than Karori, but you write me post-office there; I'll get it safe alright.” Dispatching a reply to Mr. Ryan, I arranged to examine the reputed find on the following Monday. I had gleaned before Pat’s arrival that he was considered quite a character in the district, and bore the reputation of a hard-working, honest, and well-to-do farmer, holding some three to four hundred acres of good arable land for the most part, but intersected by rocky, volcanic upheavals of basaltic rock. Furthermore, I learned from the Mining Department that no gold had been discovered within a considerable distance beyond the locality I had arranged to inspect. ‘ Mr. Patrick Ryan’s friends had not belied him when describing him as a “character,” for THE AUTHOR, MR. L. W. A. MACARTHUR, F.G.S., J.P. From a Photo. he appeared in full Irish costume whenever he visited town—knee-breeches, cut-away coat, and usually a very glaring necktie. On the morning he presented himself as my charioteer he was the very prototype of an Irish farmer, seated in his low-backed, old-fashioned jaunting-car (the genuine article), which he had brought back with him after revisiting lis native land some years previously. Long before we reached Kerry Farm we had been almost jolted to fragments; both Neil Brady, my assistant, and I were heartily glad when the slip-rails that led in from the road to Kerry Farm hove in sight. Whilst Neil was taking down and readjusting the slip-panels, Ryan became confidential. “Yer must know that Mrs. Bridget,” as he invariably called his wife, “don’t take on to this here mining,” he said. “She can’t stand the miners a-pottering about the farm. She won’t bide them near the house at all at all. Can’t say how she'll take to yer when she knows it’s the mining you’ve come about. Don’t be scared if she be a trifle short like with yer. I jest left me nabor to tell her yer errant whilst I came in to drive yer out. She’s a power to talk, is Mrs. Bridget !” This was not, very reassuring or welcome news. However, as I did not expect my stay to extend over two days, it did not matter much whether Mrs. Ryan was civil or otherwise. At last we reached the house, and “ Mrs. Bridget ” appeared on the scene. Without taking any notice whatever of Neil or myself, and with her arms well akimbo, lending. still further scope to her already ample frame, she began :— “ What’s this here yer after, Pat? John Miller tells me yer was bringin’ a mining man into my premises, Yer can just trot him back if that’s

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PAT RYAN’S GOLD-MINE. 611 the game yer at—all ahind my back, too. Yer a deceitful creature not to ha’ told me first and foremost. Do yer hear me, Patrick Ryan? Bad cess to ye and yer mining fads and factions ! I'll none of it, mind me now-—I’ll none of it!” And, turning her back, she marched off in high dudgeon into the kitchen, talking away to her- self at the rate of an auctioneer taking bids at a sale. “Don’t yer mind her, Master Carthy,” put in Ryan, hur- riedly. ‘See, she don’t take on to mining, as I told yer; but I'll put things right in no time.” The good fellow rattled on thus as he showed me into a room to get ready for the midday meal Mrs. Bridget had evidently been dish- ing up. Pat was as good as his word, for he effectively poured oil on the troubled waters. It seems that he referred to Neil Brady as a sort of body-servant, and mendaciously ex- plained that I was a scientific naturalist who gathered beetles, spiders, and cockroaches for museums. I wanted to have a look round Kerry Farm, he said, and have a shot or two at the quail, which, by the way, literally swarmed in the high-tufted grass at the foot of the volcanic ridges. Also, during my visit, I would just see if the miners had any business to rout up the land or not ; and maybe put a stop to their operations, and clear them off by Government order if they did not produce as much gold as Pat had paid to them. I did not feel any qualms of conscience over this deception, for, if the representations made by the miners were proved to be true in substance and in fact, Kerry Farm freehold would be worth half-a-dozen fortunes. On the other hand, Patrick Ryan’s credulity had been “AT LAST WE KEACHED THE HOUSE, AND ‘MRS. BRIDGET’ APPEARED ON THE SCENE.” played upon already to the tune of over two hundred pounds for driving a tunnel into one of the basaltic ridges, he finding all gear, powder, tools, etc., and paying four men at the rate of six shillings per day and tucker for some time past. If my investi- gation was not satis- factory the first loss would be the last, and all mining operations would be abandoned. From the tenor of Pat’s roundabout way of explaining the situation I gleaned that* about three months pre- viously two men had called at the Kerry Farm homestead and exhibited to Pat several gold-bearing —or apparently gold-bearing— quartz stones, which they said they had found whilst “ fos- sicking ” in the vol- canic ridges traver- sing the freehold land. Subsequently they took Pat to a small rivulet running between the ridges, and, after pounding up some quartz in an old quicksilver bottle, panned off a very good prospect of gold, much to the amazement of the farmer, who had not the slightest idea of golden treasure being. unearthed at Kerry Farm. Indeed, as he informed me, there was enough gold in one dish to make a sovereign. It was not very “ yellow” gold, the miners explained, the reason being that some gold was less valuable than other samples and varied in price. They arranged with Ryan that they should drive in a tunnel to strike the lode, and after- wards a company should be formed. Pat was to hold one-third interest, the prospectors one- third, and the public would be invited to sub- scribe for the remaining third by the issue of fourteen thousand shares at ten shillings each, to provide for machinery, crushing, and hauling plant, etc. Pat was to give the miners a lease

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612 THE WIDE of twenty-five acres around the tunnel, and all tights for ingress and egress to the property. It was also arranged that Pat should be at liberty to visit the tunnel at any time and see the pro- gress of the workings, but that he was to take no stone away until after they had the golden tunnel inspected by an “expert” from Auckland. In the meantime no publicity was to be given to the venture until the shares were open for sale to the public and the expert’s report was published. Pat was to pay each of the four men at the rate of six shillings per day, provide them with meat, flour, and other minor items, as well as all powder for blasting purposes, tools, etc. They allowed him to take gold away on several occasions when they “ panned ” off before him the crushed ore, and also gave him a few specimens with small specks of gold freely showing in the ore and quartz taken from the tunnel, as certain veins of gold-bearing rock were obtained during the process of tunnelling to reach the main lode. Pat had taken about ten pennyweights — of gold thus obtained and had it tested in Wellington, re- ceiving from a local jeweller re- turns at the rate of three pounds five shillings per ounce. Mrs. Bridget Ryan was just as antagonistic to- wards the scheme as her husband was enthusiastic, and much wordy warfare ensued in consequence. Pat often came home from the tunnel laden with speci- mens, which he carefully deposited in a spare room to await the forma- tion of the com- pany and the advent of the crushing plant. Mrs. Bridget would quickly ferret out Pat's prizes and forthwith fling them into the duck-pond at the rear of the homestead. She could never see any gold in the specimens, though Pat stoutly affirmed that she was throwing fortunes away. He asserted that the stones only required to be powdered to dust and “MRS, BRIDGET WOULD QUICKLY FERRET OUT PA1'S PRIZES AND FORTHWITH FLING THEM INTO THE DUCK-"OND,” WORLD MAGAZINE. panned off to exhibit the numerous specks of gold. This he proceeded to exemplify on two occasions, with signal failure to secure even a “colour,” though when one of the miners ventured, in spite of Mrs. Bridget’s loud pro- tests, to crush up and pan off a sample he had brought with him, a long tail of gold promptly appeared in the prospector’s dish. No persuasion on Ryan’s part would induce Mrs. Bridget to allow any of the miners near the place after she found out that Pat had been paying the men, and drawing money for the purpose from the Savings Bank, where they held a respectable sum ; and she declared that since their advent she had missed ducks, geese, and fowls from her very extensive stock of poultry. Matters had almost reached open warfare when their neighbour, Miller, informed Ryan of my visit to Wellington to examine goldfields in New Zealand on behalf of English investors ; the matter was talked over be- tween them, and it resulted in the letter I have quoted being sent to me. Pat’s enthusiasm had by this time somewhat abated, for the miners had been — quarrelling and drinking amongst them- selves, the whisky occasionally — get- ting the better of their judgment. Several remarks Pat had _ inci- dentally overheard during their wordy quarrels, with other minor mat- ters, made him anxious to obtain outside opinion as to the golden re- sources of Kerry Farm. After examining some of the specimens Mrs. Bridget had thrown away, and which Pat had secretly rescued, I was strongly of opinion that either the farmer had retrieved the wrong stones from the pond, or that if these were really the specimens given to him as part of the output from the Kerry tunnel, then some “ hanky- panky ” business surrounded Mr. Patrick Ryan's .

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PAT RYAN’S GOLD- MINE. 613 Golconda. Under all the circumstances I determined to maintain the vé/e of “museum naturalist,” pending. my examination of the Kerry tunnel, which was to take place that afternoon. I set out, accompanied by Pat ; my right hand man, Neil Brady, starting off in the opposite direction to the tunnel—by Pat’s special request. Just as we were preparing to start Mrs. Bridget cried :— “Good luck to yer and yer spider foraging. Sure, I'll catch more butterflies in me old sthraw hat ’mongst the peas and tater plants than e’er ye’ll get on the hill-tops. Say, Pat, don’t yer think you’re a-going beetle-huntin’! There’s a lot of wood to split.” Before Mrs. Bridget could offer any further objection Pat’s dog, which had been sniffing about and growling in a sullen manner, eyeing Neil and myself with evident suspicion, com- menced to bark furiously. “Tiger don’t take to strangers ever since they scallawag miners came around,” remarked the woman. “Tiger, yer must stay at home with yer missus. Yer can’t catch beetles, sure.” With a further vicious growl and loud bark, Tiger rushed .off towards one of the outhouses. Evidently he had something “bailed up” there, for he barked and snapped most savagely. “Call the baste off, Pat,” screamed Mrs. Bridget. “The varmint got Mrs. Miller’s cat, which John Miller presented myself with this very morning. Come here, Tiger, or I'll skin yer alive.” With that she hurried off, broom in hand, in the direction of the excited dog, Pat following as rearguard. Just as Mrs. Bridget reached the point of attack we saw the figure of a SHOUTING, ““THEN FOLLOWED MRS. BRIDGET, WITH BROOM IN AIR, LUSTILY “SEIZE HIM, TIGER !" man scurrying along, with Tiger at his heels. Then followed Mrs. Bridget with broom in air, lustily shouting, “Seize him, Tiger! Seize the vagabond !” Another moment, and the luckless object of Tiger’s ferocity was hastily clambering over the fence, with the dog hanging on to part of his anatomy. Mrs. Bridget, in hot haste, was soon alongside. “What do yer want skulking round here for, yer mining good-for-nothin’, yer?” she demanded. “Speak up! Bite him, Tiger ; bite him!” When peace was restored and the frenzied Tiger called off, the man-—-with sundry oaths against the Ryans in general and Tiger in particular—eventually explained that one of his mates had seen the “old shay” coming through the slip-rails, and he had just called round for the goods Pat had promised to bring out with him. “Didn’t I tell yer not to come within smell of the place, yer rascals?” cried Mrs. Bridget, viciously, grasping her broom-handle with a tighter grip, as if intent upon belabouring the, intruder. ‘And why were yer skulking behind the hen-house and pigsties ? That ain’t the way to call for yer parcels. Pat—bad cess to yer —give the spalpeen his things and let him be- gone at once.” The perturbed Pat promptly produced the miners’ pack- ages, amongst which Mrs. Bridget’s — lynx- like eyes spied a wrapper that be- tokened “ square gin.” She had it out of her husband's hands before the pro- spector could grab it, flinging it with all her force against the grindstone, where it was smashed to atoms. The odour of the essential oil of juniper berry was more than pronounced as the bottle smashed into a thousand fragments. With a yell of rage the prospector

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614 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. leaped at the woman, and war to the knife was imminent had not Neil Brady seized the man by the right shoulder and given him a sharp “‘policeman’s twist” on the left wrist-as he dashed at Mrs. Bridget. In a trice, as the fellow staggered, the Irishwoman brought the butt-end of the yard broom down on to his luckless head, which was fortunately protected by a thick woollen cap. With lurid language the fellow faced round iY 4 ‘Dipate =~ ne “* pat,’ SHOUTED BRADY, ‘GET HOLD OF HIS LEGS WHILE 1 THROW HIM OVER.” ” on Neil, who still held him in a vice-like grip. For a moment they eyed each other. Then, amidst the din, I caught Neil’s very decided tones. “So you're in these parts, eh, Mr. Mundic? Sure, they'll be after missin’ you up there at Whangarie.” “Let me go, or it'll be worse for you, Brady,” replied the miner, with a string of oaths, striving to escape by writhing round and making a vicious back-kick with his hobnailed boots. “Let you go? You'll not leave my grip till you're landed in the lock-up, you blackguard !” shouted Brady. “Pat, get hold of his legs while I throw him over.” Before Pat could gather himself together, however, Neil, who was an expert wrestler, had forced his captive to the ground and deposited him on the flat of his back. “Put a strap round the villain’s legs, sir, will you?” continued my assistant. ‘This is the fellow that half killed Ned Skinner at Coromandel and stole the battery plates. I know you, Mr. ‘Mundic Joe.’ Jove! if it wasn’t for the law I'd be after throttling you, you cowardly ruffian. Strap him up, sir—that’s right ; he’d knife you as soon as look at you! The police have wanted him badly for a long time.” Neil had often related to me how his mate, Ned Skinner, had been knocked down at night whilst going the rounds of the battery, it being partially dismantled through an_ acci- dent during the previous even- ing, alleged to have been caused purposely by a battery hand who had been taken on a week before, and known as “Mundic Joe.” This sobriquet he had earned, it appeared, by passing off copper pyrites for gold and selling them to a “new chum.” Skinner was found insensible from a blow on the back of the head with some heavy blunt instrument, and the amalgam that had been scraped off the plates that afternoon was missing. Next day “ Mundic Joe” was not to be found, and a warrant was issued for his arrest on a charge of assault, inflicting grievous bodily harm, and amalgam robbery. Knowing these facts I could understand Brady’s excitement, and in the course of a few minutes “ Mundic Joe” resembled a trussed fowl more than anything else. After a short consultation it was arranged that I should ride into Karori and apprise the local constable of our unexpected capture of the much-wanted “ Mundic Joe,” while Neil kept guard oyer his prisoner, shut up in one of the outhouses. Meanwhile Pat was to proceed to

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PAT RYAN’S the Kerry tunnel and engage the attention of the miners there, in order that their mate might not be missed, taking over with him the second bottle of grog, which Mrs. Bridget had not observed. It would prolong this story too much to relate in detzil the triangular argument between Mrs. Bridget, “‘ Mundic Joe,” and our excited host, with Neil occasionally chipping in. However, the prisoner led us to suppose—as subsequently turned out to be true—that he had left his mates for good that morning, and had no inten- tion of returning, but purposed getting a good share of the “tucker” and a bottle of grog before making tracks for fresh woods and pastures new. The Kerry Farm prospectors had had a rough-and-tumble amongst themselves the night before, he told us, and ‘ Mundic Joe” had been practically turned out, having incurred the ire of his erstwhile mates through some scurrilous trick and threats as to his intentions. Indeed, whilst I was en route to the police- station and Pat was across at the camp, “Mundic Joe” offered to give Neil full infor- mation about the way he and his late com- panions had been “getting at” Pat Ryan, if Neil would let him go; he would also give him six sovereigns and some notes he had on him. Needless to say, the indignant Brady refused. Arriving at the police-station, I found the officer in charge and soon related my business. Within a couple of hours ‘“ Mundic Joe” was safe in the lock-up, and arrangements made that he should be taken into Wellington after dusk in order not to excite any local comment that might reach the ears of the Kerry Farm prospectors, Pat returned to the homestead before the constable left with his prisoner and was able to verify the story that “ Mundic Joe” had “cut his hook” that morning. The field was therefore open for me to inspect ; this, how- ever, we decided should be left over until next day, as the afternoon was already far advanced, and ere we should be ready to start dusk would have been upon us. About nine o’clock the village chief constable made his appearance having been directed by wire from Wellington to obtain further informa- tion from Neil Brady. After he had gleaned this, and taken notes of all details regarding the Whangeri affair—which had been duly looked up in the Police Gasefte, the description there fully coinciding with ‘Mundic Joe ”—Neil imparted to the constable, at my instance, the full tenor of ‘“ Joe’s” admissions respecting the way in which Patrick Ryan was being swindled by the mining party. It was intended that as soon as they had bled Pat to his full bent, and got off a few syndicate shares with the surround- GOLD- MINE. 615 ing farmers and such flats as they could come across in Wellington, all tools and mining paraphernalia were to be promptly carted into Wellington by night and sold to a second-hand shop. Then the gang, now reduced to three, would metaphorically and practically assume the patronymic of Walker, and the original pro- spectors of the Kerry Farm Gold - Mining Syndicate would silently disappear into oblivion, to carry on like or other nefarious schemes else- where. In the meantime, in view of various offences against the good order of society, it was of considerable importance to them to play at tunnel-driving and “ salting” the crevices occur- ring in the basaltic rock system, absolutely filling in some of the disintegrated portions with quartzite rubble, a few specimens being placed in the seams at odd intervals to be duly exhibited by candle-light to any dupe that could be cajoled out from Wellington in the secrecy of night. Thus one victim who had inspected the mine made many. Pat had gloated over practically the same specimens, it appears, placed in different parts of the short tunnel—generally in or near the face—actually almost under the innocent fellow’s very eyes. One man would attract his attention to different parts, or engage him in animated conversation at the mouth of the tunnel regarding immense future prospects, whilst his mates were pre- paring another “find” with identically the same specimens, with a bit of extra clay or mullock dabbed on by way of disguise. “Mundic Joe” did not confide the full details of this business to Brady during the period of his guardianship whilst stationed at the fowl-house door; most of the details leaked out subse- quently. It was decided that, as the miners were still ignorant of how matters stood, the constable should wire’ into Wellington for two detectives or plain-clothes constables to come out first thing in the morning and visit the Kerry tunnel, pretending that they had been advised to “ buy in” by a syndicate shareholder in town. Next morning, as there was practically no further need of secrecy, I unfolded to the amazed Mrs. Bridget the full and true state of affairs in connection with the mine and my own identity, as she was bound to know when the plain-clothes men arrived with the constable, as had been arranged. With a merry twinkle in her eyes she learned how we intended to raid the mine-“ alters” and clear them off the place, entering fully into the excitement of the coming fray. “Sure, I must be there to mind Pat don’t run into trouble, and mayhap danger,” she cried. “ He’s not much good, but he’s the only bit of old Ireland 1 have about the place.”

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616 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. About eleven o'clock two “ swaggies,” duly laden with voluminous blanket-rolls, arrived at Kerry Farm. Although their disguise was dis- tinctly good (they were the two detectives from Wellington), they looked more like new chums en route to look for work than the veteran sun- downers they affected to represent. However, they fully succeeded in concealing their vocation and identity from the unsuspecting Mrs. Bridget, who was on tenterhooks of excitement concern- ing the coming arrests. It was arranged that the two disguiséd police- men should first go across to the mine and apply for work, failing which, as of course expected, they should potter about, lighting their pipes and yarning with the three men. Then Pat and I were to come on the scene—I in the rdé/e of a probable purchaser of Kerry Farm Gold-Mining Syndicate scrip. As soon as our business, including an examination of the tunnel, which we anticipated would take about half an hour, was concluded, and the“ sergeant, from a hiding-place a little distance off, saw me hand over a deposit to clinch the bargain and obtain a pencil receipt from the mine “boss” in my _ note-book, he was to ride up, armed with the necessary authority to arrest— not only for their present barefaced swindling transac- tion, but also for sundry other small matters considered by law-abiding people to be preju- dicial to society—to wit, burglary, assault, and till robbery at an Auckland hostelry. Shortly after the two ‘‘swaggies” had started on their errand Pat and I followed in a cir- cuitous course, so as to give them plenty In due course we reached the site of the tunnel, having approached from the opposite ridge, whilst the two policemen had come across country from the direction of the township. The three men were affecting to be preparing timber for tunnel purposes and had evidently not given the “swaggies ” a very hearty reception, for, as we drew near, one man remarked, irritably, “I tell you that we don’t want anyone in place of the mate that took his hook. We intend to hold the show ourselves, and we paid him off for his share; so it’s no use wasting your time here.” Thereupon one of the “swaggies” offered to help cut timber “just for a: bit of tucker”; but no, the miners said they were short of “tucker” themselves until their next trip to town. Pat and I were now on the scene. “Good day, Mr. Ryan,” cried the leader of the trio, effusively. “Fine morning! We are just getting the timber into the drive. We bought out that man Walsh” (the name “ Mundic Joe” had apparently adopted for this episode in his career of crime). “The fellow was too fond of the flask, so we had a meeting and gave him twenty-five quid for his interest. Here’s his receipt. Don’t suppose you wanted him to re- main ; it makes one less in the original show to divide the company’s shares.” “That's all right,” replied Pat. “Sure, whether there’s ten or two is of no con- cern to me; IJ still hold my third lot. I’ve brought with me Mr. —— Och! I can’t remember the name of him. He came to my place overnight, and this morning wants to buy in a share, if of time to make you’re wanting to sell themselves at home any. I’ve told him with the mining ar mH é : ; sh all about the gold trio. WHAT THE DRUCE ae GROWLROTANGHILVED © NOSE IN HERE? yer dished off in my

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PAT RYAN’S GOLD- MINE. 617 presence, some of which I sold to the jeweller in the city for three pounds five shillings per ounce. Show him some of yer specimens, will yer?” _ We had now reached the tent, and several specimens were placed for my inspection on the box that did duty for a camp table. At this juncture one of the “swaggies” strolled up, doubtless with a view of witnessing any share transaction that might take place. As it turned out, however, it was an unfortunate move on his part. - The prospector, who had been exhibiting the stones with great gusto and holding forth as to the possibilities of the great Kerry Farm Syndicate, not only shut up like an oyster-shell as the “‘swaggy” came to the flap of the tent, but by a quick movement raked all the specimens off the impromptu table into a long, flat mustard-box. x “What the deuce do you want poking your nose in here?” he growled, angrily. “It’s like your cheek peering into a man’s tent. Just you clear out of the camp; none of your prowling round here.” With this the three men came together, in- tending to pitch the “swaggies” neck and crop from the precincts of the Kerry Farm tunnel. It was this unfortunate turn in the tide of affairs that led directly to the disastrous results that followed. I noticed one of the miners walk off quickly to the tunnel, and immediately followed him, asking to be shown the quartz veins whilst the others were dealing with the “swaggies.” I overhauled the fellow at the tunnel mouth, and he turned round on hearing my request. “Them fellows are no swagmen,” he muttered, fiercely. ‘I know the phiz of one, but can’t just call it to mind. They’re miners, just come to spy on us; I reckon I knows a miner when I sees one. Come along; I’ll show you where the specimens came from. Now, if you can seize on to a share or two your for- tune’s made. I tell you, there’s not a better show than this here in all New Zealand. It was just by a streak o’ luck we dropped across it while prospecting these parts. You might be able to collar the share, or a bit of the one the mate what left sold us. I dare say you could get a half of it for twenty-five quid.” I protested at paying such a price— merely in order to gain time while examining the apology for a tunnel, which was simply a somewhat prolonged, rudely- planned excavation, evidently the work of inexperienced men. While I was talk- ing the fellow picked out a specimen Vol. xvii.—78. from a crevice between two basaltic rocks. This he carefully split open, holding the candle near to show me the. gold. Sure enough, gold was there, in coarse specks. Could I pick out a piece? I asked, with apparent eagerness. Certainly I might! Further, I was shown where to find a loose piece of quartz. This was also examined under a candle, and putting a pocket magnifying-glass to the stone I was somewhat astonished to find that not only was this specimen utterly barren, but that behind it, evidently carelessly dabbed into a crevice, was a small piece of gold leaf! Just then there came an outburst of angry words between the “swaggies” and miners. One of the swagmen said he had enough money to buy an interest, and the other—evidently to gain time for me to examine the tunnel—called his mate anything but a peer of the realm for offering to buy into a crowd that wouldn’t even give them a bite of tucker. While I moved towards the entrance the man who had been exhibiting the specimens remained in the tunnel, probably to re-fix the very ‘‘portable” specimens. I did not at the time notice that, after I had examined the stone “THIS WAS ALSO EXAMINED UNDER A CANDLE,”

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618 THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. with my strong pocket lens, my guide became very uncommunicative, although I extolled the evident value of such a find. Either he was deep in reflection as to where he had seen the “swaggy” before, or looked upon me as too foolish to bother about talking to, as I was apparently so readily taken in by “faked” quartz and gold leaf. Of course, the specimens exhibited in the tent were genuine, and could, by the colour of the gold and character of the quartzites, be immediately recognised as Thames River (N.Z.) gold, such gold being as different in appearance from the better class of West Coast gold, and as easily distinguished, as butter from margarine by a produce merchant. The “‘swaggies” now took themselves very slowly off towards the ridge—where the sergeant lay in hiding—picking up stones and pretending to examine them, wasting plenty of time in breaking them against boulders, and then scru- tinizing the fractures as if looking for specks. It did not take long for me to decide that I would hold a full syndicate share for twenty pounds deposit and fifteen pounds to be paid in the course of a week. I was to pay five pounds down and get the balance of the deposit by twelve o'clock next day. No; they gave no re- ceipts, they told me, when I asked for one ; they had no writing materials. I therefore produced a pocket-book, and wrote out an acknowledgment for the five pounds. I was to have one small speci- men for five shillings extra, “just to show the man in town who was_ backing me up.” The signing of the re- ceipt was a signal that brought back the two “ swaggies,” who now approached, carrying a great boulder. “ Hey, mates!” one called out, excitedly. ‘This must be a specimen rolled out of your mine. Look here; it’s got a streak of gold on it.” We were all then stand- ing near the mouth of the tunnel, and at that moment the sergeant made his appearance round the ridge and rode leisurely up. “Ts this the Kerry tunnel?” he called out, as he got within about fifteen yards of the tunnel. “Yes,” replied the fellow who had all along acted as spokesman. ‘What do you want ?” “Only to know if it is registered,” said the sergeant, “and whether you hold miners’ rights.” 5 I was just then almost facing the tunnel, and, as the sergeant spoke, the man who had re- mained inside rushed out. Passing me quickly, he yelled out : “ Look out, the blast’s fired !” -1 noticed his mates dart aside, and then, without warning, there came a terrific explosion from the tunnel. The concussion knocked me down, and for a few moments I was entirely dazed, half-blinded with smoke, showers of pebbles, and dust. As the smoke cleared away I scrambled painfully to my feet, and saw poor “HE VELLED OUT: ‘LOOK OUT, THE BLAST’S FIRED !'"

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PAT RYAN’S GOLD MINE. 619 Pat Ryan lying insensible, with blood streaming from his face, and Neil sitting up a little farther off, with one hand on the ground, the other pressed to his side. Fortunately neither of them got the full force of the explosion, or they would doubtless have been killed outright. Beyond the two injured men a smart scuffle was in progress between the prospectors and the disguised detectives. In a trice the “swaggics” had one of the miners handcuffed ; the sergeant made short work of another, and the third man, seeing the game was up, fled into the bush. He was not smart enough, however, for the younger and more athletic of the “swaggies” darted after him with revolver drawn, calling on him to stop, and soon had him handcuffed like his mates. Meanwhile I looked after the wounded men. Pat’s face was much bruised ; his nasal organ was literally flattened out, and there was a nasty gash on his temple. Whilst the sergeant was attending to him I went to poor Neil. He had received a terrific blow from a large piece of rock on the left side, below the shoulder. Three of his ribs proved to be broken, and his wrist and leg were badly injured. When we had dressed Pat’s wounds as best we might with such appliances as we could tind in the tent and bandaged Neil up, the sergeant sent one of the men over to the farmhouse on his horse for a dray to carry our wounded and convey the prisoners. We afterwards learned thgt the man who had remained behind in the tunnel had brought a barrel and a half of blasting powder as near to the mouth as he could without being seen from outside, and whilst we were talking about the syndicate share had piled stones over and round about the powdcr-kegs. Then, when the sergeant rode up and he saw that the game was played out, the rascal set fire to what must have been but a short fuse. The sequel has already been related. Had we been standing more directly in front of the tunnel the result would have been fatal to several, if not all, of us, though the “salters ” would have escaped. The man alleged that he was only setting off the usual blast that had been drilled during the morning, and that the powder-kegs must have caught alight accidentally. It was practically impossible, of course, to prove anything to the contrary, as the whole excavation collapsed. At the trial “ Mundic Joe” turned Queen’s evidence. All the specimens and gold, he testified, had been brought from the Thames and Coromandel district, and placed in the rock crevices in such a slipshod manner.that anyone acquainted with mining would have at once detected the fraud; but their trap was intended for Pat Ryan and his simple farmer friends, who could be duped at the hotel billiard-rooms by the man who was delegated to visit Wellington. On the charge of obtaining money by false pretences, “salting” the mine, etc., they had the temerity to plead “ Not Guilty,” being then unaware that “ Mundic Joe” had “ peached” on them and the modus operandi of their scheme. I remember being cross- examined as to the difference in quality of Thames and West Coast gold, the defending barrister exhibiting almost as great stupidity as the “salters ” regarding any knowledge of crude gold, between the grades of which, he alleged, it was impossible to discriminate. To prove this he had three small packets prepared to test my evidence as to whether the mine had been “salted” by the introduction of specimens. Having insisted that the packets should be marked plainly as to their true character before portions were passed up for examination, I at once correctly determined the different classes, which required no great keenness of observation to one accustomed to the work. Then the barrister, as a trial “coup,” produced the third sample, which he expected would knock my evidence into aheap. However, this mysterious sample was easier to name than either of the others, for my strong magnifying-glass at once showed irregular sharp edges as well as_uni- formity of size, colour, etc., proving the gold to be from a filed English sovereign! I was then left severely alone, and “ Mundic Joe” being called by the Crown, the defence, like their Kerry Tunnel Syndicate, exploded and caved in, and the trio were sentenced to two, five, and six years’ imprisonment respectively, in addition to varying periods for crimes antedating the “salting ” episode. Poor Neil Brady spent over two months in the hospital, and Pat Ryan, if he still drives the jaunting-car, has his nasal organ badly flattened. I visited Mrs. Bridget’s several times afterwards during my stay in that district. Pat’s mining venture, needless to say, afforded her a never- ending theme of conversation. ‘ But I forgive ye all,” she would say. ‘Sure, you ridded Kerry Farm of them mine-varmints, and Pat of his foolishness. And, faith, we got back a good whack of the pounds they screwed out of Pat! They hadn’t time nor place to spend bare a stiver, for they couldn’t show their dirty faces in town but what the police had a blue paper invitation for them to a party and to break stones for recreation.” And that was the end of the great Kerry Farm Gold-Mining Syndicate.

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gi] I is supposed to be the privilege of | soldiers and sailors to grumble, but it is safe to say that if our own gallant defenders had to endure the lot of the Turkish Tommy Atkins their grumbles would hecome something alarming. The annexed photograph illustrates the hardship of life in the Turkish army in a remarkable manner. “It was taken at Tripoli, on the Barbary Coast,” writes a correspondent. “The very large garrison kept here hardly ever gets any pay, and the unfortunate soldiers even sell their rations of bread to get a few pence for pocket-money!” ‘The photograph shows a corner of the public market-place, where the men take their stand every morning among the other bread-merchants. This is done with the full knowledge and consentof the Turkish authorities! THE PAY OF THE TURKISH TOM _ OBTAIN MONEY—HERE WE SPE SOLDIERS EELONGIN From a) 1Y ATKINS IS ALWAYS HOPELESSLY IN ARREAR, AND HE IS DRIVEN TO ALL SORTS OF SHIFTS TO TO THE GARRISON OF TRIPOLI SELLING THEIR BREAD-RATIONS IN THE PUBLIC MARKRT-PLACE. (Photo,

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ODDS AND ENDs. 621 A PECULIAR MOTORING MISHAP—THE CHAUFFEUR DROVE FOR A CONSIDERABI KNOWING THAT THE CAR BEHIND HIM WAS A MASS OF FLA. From a\ The photograph we reproduce was the result of a peculiar motoring mishap which occurred near Clifton Park, Cleveland, U.S.A. The owner of the car in question was driving rapidly along, when a gentle sensation of warmth began to steal up his back. ‘Turning round to } j eh ‘sa fi a a 1 —_ bencenae® er craters 5s episode, but the chauffeur thought better of it, par- ticularly as the flames were licking at the gasolene tank. He therefore made a leap for safety, leaving the doomed car to itself just as our correspondent moved up and took the photograph, which shows the automobile alight from end to end. The skin of a truly gigantic snake is seen in our snap-shot below. Con- cerning it the sender writes: “This snake was killed in the autumn of 1903 in the mountains of Misamis Province, Island of Mindanao, Philippine Islands. Some American soldiers from one of the camps near encountered the monster and shot it. The creature measured about thirty feet long, and was some twenty-four inches in circumference ; in its stomach a deer and a wild boar, weighing about sixty pounds, were found. Some idea of the size of the snake can Le ot 174 HE MONSTER SNAKE WHOSE SKIN IS HERE SHOWN WAS SHOT IN THE PHILIFPINE ISEANDS—IT MFASURED THIRTY FEET IN From a) discover its cause, he was horrified to see that the tonneau was a mass of flames; he had, all unconsciously, been steering a blazing car! Here was a splendid opportunity to emulate the feat of the juvenile hero of the “burning deck” LENGTH, AND A DEER AND A WILD BOAR WERE FOUND IN ITs STOMACH ! (Photo. gathered by comparison with the men at head and tail, who are both six-footers.” Next is a very remarkable and pathetic postal curiosity—a coincidence in correspondence, so to speak. It was sent to us by the Rev. Frank

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From al AN ENVELOPE WITH A STRANGE AND PA Vipona, of Chester, Todmorden P.O., Ontario. It appears that for upwards of seven years this gentleman corresponded regularly with his aged grandmother, Mrs. Rowley, at home in England. Out of the three hundred and fifty letters which Mr. Vipona had sent home up to February, 1899, none had ever been stamped “Too late” (presumably for a particular mail) by the postal authorities. The solitary exception reproduced in facsimile above was received in England THETIC HISTORY. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. under the following circumstances: The postman stood reverently on one side while Mrs. Rowley’s coffin was carried out of the house, and then handed in the letter bearing the doubly - significant stamp “ ‘loo late”—not only for the mail, but for the addressee also! Such a striking and pathetic coincidence as this must be almost unique. Our next photograph shows what is locally known as_ the “Bone Yard,” near Lake. City, Florida. ‘Tbe place is owned, and its unique decorations have all been gathered and arranged, by the old coloured woman of seventy-four who is seen in the picture. The “Bone Yard” is a flower-garden “adorned” with the skulls and bones of various animals picked up in the neighbouring woods, these grisly relics being so arranged amid the greenery as to give a most extraordinary effect. No explanation is forth- coming of the old lady’s strange hobby; but quaint and bizarre as the “Bone Yard” looks in daylight, it is emphatically a place to keep out of at night for people possessing a vivid imagination. The curious-looking little structure seen on the top of the next page is located in the suburbs of (Photo. THE “BONE YARD,” From a) NEAK LAKE CITY, FLORIDA—AN OLD NEGRESS HAS “ DECORATED” BONES OF ANIMALS, GIVING A MOST WEIRD EFPECT. WER GARDEN WITH THE SKULLS AND (Photo.

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ODDS AND ENDS. 623 " a) Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands, and was built by the Japanese residents. It is what is termed a “prayer tower,” and was erected in order that prayers might be offered there to their deities by the anxious Japanese for the success of the armies of the Mikado during the recent war. The tiny temple contains a sacred image, and during the campaign prayers were said daily in the tower and religious services held at its base. We have at various times reproduced in these pages the portraits of some little-known and remarkable native poten- tates. We give a picture of another, Her Majesty the Queen - Regent of Swaziland, who nominally rules over an area of three thousand square . miles, From a} FEEDING BULLS FROM A BOTTLE JN,CEYLON. 7 appre 4 eal A LITTLE-KNOWN MONARCH—HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN-RRGENT From al OF SWAZILAND. (Photo. inhabited by a native population of eighty-two thousand. The lady is shown in a State costume consisting of a cloth dress, instead of her usual and more comfortable native attire. She isa most amiable Queen, by all accounts, and an apt pupil of the missionaries. Here is a curious little snap-shot from Ceylon, showing a native feeding cart bulls from a bottle. These docile animals, it appears, are by no means greedy, and will not take enough nourish- ment on their own initiative to enable them to haul their heavy loads of tea from the planta- tions to the station. It is, therefore, necessary to resort to a kind of “cramming” process, and (Photo.

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624 it is quite a com- mon spectacle of the country-side to A see the bulls being fed by hand, as depicted in our photograph. Our post-bag is constantly _bring- ing us striking re- minders of how small this world of ours really is, and also to what remote and _ little- known _ localities this Magazine penetrates. In our issue for January, 1906, in an article by Mr. R. T. Maurice, entitled “Across the Great Thirst Land,” the author described how, far out in the wilds, he dis- covered a “blazed” tree bearing the inscrip- tion “J. Lamb, Prspec.” “ Perhaps as a result of the publication of this article in THE Wive Wortp Macazine,” added Mr. Maurice, “T may glean some information concerning the identity of the daring prospector who blazed this tree so many years ago.” The author’s hope OTT hs a \ AN INTERESTING SEQUEL TO A “Wi From a} MARKED THE MYSTERIOUS BLAZED TREE DESCRIBED IN OUR JANUARY ISSUE. THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE. PRENE Y R. LAM® (IN MIDDLE) IS THE PROSPECTOR WHO [ Photo. WORLD” ARTICLE- has now been fulfilled. Writing from Guild- ford, West Australia, Mr. J. Lamb says: “I am the prospector referred to in the article, and cut my name on the tree described in June, 1894. I enclose a photograph of my camp at that time ; also extracts from my diary.” Mr. Lamb’s party, by the way, were attacked by a band of fifty blacks not far from the blazed tree, but managed to beat them off. | | Bear Huntinc INTHE ARcTIC St Japanese PrayerTower” nN hi St Burpiog Mator- Lar SHaRk-Fisnine Pat Ryan's Gotp-MINE ” wor . ig = DA Mbrencat g Hunrine Taue [-~s fers Sk? , aS ote Yertow EN om | Ana aes N M N r Se Goreme Mouasceause Lak or Mip-ArR oe, ‘ ABDUCTION OF Eva CARSON Torkisp Soldiers Selling Mer Bread Ratings Sn Mareen Se jequel THE MAP-CONTENTS OF “THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE,” WHICH SHOWS AT A GLASCE THE LOCALITY OF BACH ARTICLE AND NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURE IN THIS NUMBER.

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