HOW PAT DELANEY PAID HIS RENT.
I was born in County Blank, Ireland, educated in Dublin, and chose for profession—if profession it may be called—that of a tea-planter; but times were bad, health failed me, and after ten years spent in Assam, I returned to England with the intention of remaining, should a suitable appointment be procurable. No one knows, however, till he tries how difficult it is to find suitable employment on returning after a lapse of years to one’s old haunts; the true reason of it being that there is too large a proportion of the genus homo collected together in this corner of the globe. My parents had died during my absence, and their property had passed into the hands of an elder brother with whom I was not on good terms, so I did not revisit the old place. Hearing, however, that my uncle, Sir Toby O’Bride, who owned considerable estates in another county, was having some trouble with his tenants, I thought I would cross over and see him.
My respected relative was in the act of shutting up house and beating a hasty retreat from the country. No rents had been forthcoming for some time, so he had lately changed his agent. The new one succeeded in bringing a few of the tenants to their senses and the rents to Sir Toby’s pocket, but two nights previous to my arrival the unfortunate man was shot when returning home through the park, after dining with Sir Toby. The police had some suspects in charge; but as it proved, they had no hand in the affair, and the guilt was never brought home to the real perpetrator.
‘I don’t know,’ said my uncle, ‘what is to be done, but at present I intend going away for a time. They will shoot at me next, if I remain. This shocking affair has quite unnerved me.’ My uncle did indeed look shaken and ill.
‘I have a plan,’ said I, ‘if I may suggest it? Let me take the agent’s place, and see if I can improve matters. The people all know me more or less, and if any of them try to make holes in me, they will find me well prepared to retaliate. I mean this seriously, uncle. I am an idle man at present, and will be more than pleased if you let me have my way.’
He pooh-poohed my proposition at first, declaring it was simply suicidal to attempt such a thing; but he finally consented, and I was installed in the agent’s cosy cottage at a salary of four hundred pounds per annum. The first step was to purchase ostentatiously a pair of six-chambered revolvers, and erecting a target in the garden, I peppered away at it. Whenever any one came to my office, I took occasion to show what an excellent shot I was. The office window stood high from the ground, and was furnished with iron bars and a grating like that of a prison cell. When the tenantry came to pay their rent, they found me seated at the table with one of my faithful beauties on each side of me, and it was well known that I never left the house without them.
Whether it was owing to my knowledge of the character of the people with whom I had to deal, or whether it was their knowledge that I liked them sincerely, but knew them too well to be ‘done’ by them or to fear their threats, I cannot say; whichever way it was, no attempt was made on my life, and a larger proportion of the rents due passed through my hands in the course of the year than had through those of the agents for some time previously. Of course, there were some tenants who could not or would not pay their rent. Stories of bad harvests, cattle dying, pigs getting measles, and starving families at home, came eloquently from the glib tongues of the delinquents. Sometimes true, more or less, generally less, for there was very little bad land on the estate. Foremost amongst the last-named section was one named Delaney. He held a good farm, which had been tenanted for generations back by Delaneys, who had been counted good tenants in their day; but this Pat came under the influence of agitators, who perverted his ideas of honesty.
Pat Delaney was among the first to refuse to pay his rent, and the aggravating part of it was that I felt sure he had the money. He was the best judge of horses in the country-side, and attended all the fairs, doing a good deal of cattle-dealing in a quiet way, so that in spite of bad seasons, he was counted a well-to-do man among his fellows. But on rent-day not a shilling was forthcoming. The old story—failure of the potato crop, bad harvest, wife sick, a lot of mouths to fill, and ‘Wouldn’t I put in a word for him with the masther? Shure, the kind ould masther wouldn’t be hard on a poor man. He would pay up next rent-day for sartain.’
‘No, Pat,’ said I. ‘This is the second time you have brought me that story. You are far behindhand with your rent; and if you don’t pay up now, out you must go. The land is good and the rent low. If you can’t make it pay, we must find another tenant who will. It goes against my heart to turn you out, for Delaneys have been on the place for three generations now; and I am sure you can pay, if you like. The Delaneys were never paupers before.’
Glancing sharply at him, I saw a flicker of indecision pass over his countenance, and his hand fidgeted with the edge of his jacket; but in a moment the former expression of doggedness came over his face like a cloud; he straightened himself, and said insolently: ‘Shure an’ wouldn’t I pay if I could? It isn’t dishonest ye’re thinkin’ I am?’
An idea struck me. Changing my tone, I remarked indifferently: ‘O no; the Delaneys were always honest. But if the money is not forthcoming, out you must go, and there’s an end of the matter.’
Gathering up the books, I returned them to the safe, locked it, and taking my hat, I turned to my companion and began confidentially: ‘I want to ask your opinion about something, Pat. They tell me you are a good judge of a nag; I want you to tell me what you think of one I have in the stable just now.’
At the word ‘nag,’ Pat was all attention.
‘She’s a beauty, and, I imagine, should fetch a good deal. She belongs to a friend of mine, who is hard up, and asked me if I could sell her for him, which will be easily done; but I want your opinion of her. There are two or three offers for her already. She was bought, I know, for one hundred and twenty pounds; but that is a little time ago; and my friend would take sixty pounds for her now, or even forty pounds, down.’
Pat’s eyes scintillated, and I saw his hand tremble with eagerness. By this time we had reached the stable where Black Bess, my beautiful hunter, stood. She had arrived a week before, a gift from my uncle, Sir Toby, and she looked her hundred and twenty guineas every inch, the beauty!
‘Cheap at forty pounds, eh, Pat? Look at her points, man. I wish I could buy her myself.’
‘She’s a purty crayture, sor,’ ejaculated Pat as he went over her points with keen appreciation. Looking at her teeth, patting the glossy, arched neck, and finally passing his hand down each leg, he raised his head, and said in a sheepish sort of way: ‘She’s worth her forty pounds, sor.’
‘Yes, I know that. Now, I thought you might know of some one wanting a horse. Perhaps one of your friends might like to deal; but I must have cash down.’
‘I know ov one man who moight take him, sor.’
‘Do you? Well, I’d be glad if you’d send him to me to-morrow; and if the mare is still here, he may have her; but he must take his chance, mind you. I have several offers, and “first come first served” is the rule for this business. Sir Thomas Clarke has an eye on her, and would probably give sixty pounds if I hung on a bit; but my friend wants the money at once. Emerson of Bogside was here this morning, and liked the looks of her; said he might look back in the afternoon and close the bargain; so your friend must take his chance.’
‘Shure, sor, and ye moight jest keep her till me frind sees her to-morrow. He’s sartain shure to take her, and cash down on the spot.’ Pat was most persuasive, and I saw by the gleam in his eye that he was safe on my hook. He knew as well as I did that he had only to take her to the first fair and he would get seventy or eighty pounds for her, if not more.
‘No, no. A bargain is a bargain. I told Emerson that it would be a case of first come first served. If Black Bess is here to-morrow, your friend can have her, and welcome; but I cannot keep her for any one.’
A heavy footstep tramped up the garden path, and we heard a loud voice asking for me.
‘Why, that must be Emerson back already!—Good-day, Pat; I don’t think I need ask you to trouble your friend, after all.’
‘Stop, stop, sor; I’ll buy the mare meself, and here’s the money.’ Ripping open the lining of his jacket, he thrust a roll of dirty notes into my hand.
Slowly I counted them, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight five-pound notes. That makes forty. Thanks, Pat. Just half your rent! Now, you go home and bring me the other half. I know you have it all, and you cannot deny it.’
When I wrote to Sir Toby, I had the extreme satisfaction of telling him that Delaney had paid up in full; and Black Bess carries me none the worse for having been an unconscious actor in the little drama which proved so successful.
THE MONTH:
SCIENCE AND ARTS.
We have much pleasure in recording the establishment of the ‘County Scientific Society for Middlesex.’ There are many such Societies, most of them in a very flourishing condition, dotted about the kingdom, where, for a small subscription, the members can meet at lectures, concerts, and various entertainments. In addition to this, many of these institutions have attached to them educational and art classes, which students can attend for a small fee. It is certainly time that the metropolitan county should be similarly provided for, although for some years past many local institutions of the kind have sprung up round about the great city. Among the vice-presidents of the new Society we note such honoured names as Lubbock, Huxley, Flower, Abel, and Geikie. These alone should insure that success which we hope the enterprise will achieve. Application for membership and other particulars may be obtained from Mr Sydney T. Klein, Clarence Lodge, Willesden, N.W.
The newspapers constantly remind us that there are many persons in the kingdom who object to vaccination, and, as a matter of course, there are not wanting agitators who are constantly calling aloud for the repeal of the law which makes the operation compulsory. Three years ago an outcry of the same kind arose at Zurich in Switzerland, with the effect that the cantonal law of compulsory vaccination was repealed. By reference to the official returns set forth in a paper by Professor Dunant, we are able to judge of the effect of the popular vote. In the canton named, the deaths from smallpox were in the year 1881, seven; in the two following years there were no deaths from that disease; in 1884, they rose to eleven; in 1885, they were seventy-three; and in the first three months of this present year, the deaths from smallpox were no fewer than eighty-five. These terrible figures need no comment, save the remark, that they do not take into account the sightless eyes and dreadful disfigurements of those who were attacked but did not die.
More conclusive evidence as to the efficacy of Jenner’s discovery may be gathered from Dr Jassen’s book, recently published at Brussels. Let us quote one instance given. Last year, in twenty-one German towns having an aggregate population of four millions, where vaccination was compulsory, the deaths from smallpox numbered twenty-seven; while in fifteen French towns owning the same aggregate number of inhabitants, but where the law was not in force, there were no fewer than eight hundred and sixty-six deaths from smallpox in the same period.
According to a Report published by Lieutenant von Nimptsch of a journey made by him with a traveller attached to the Congo Free State, a navigable river has been discovered by them which is likely to be of great importance to the future trade of the Congo. The river Congo, as will be seen by the map, flows in a north-westerly direction, and afterwards takes a southward course to its mouth in the Atlantic Ocean. Within the large tract of country comprised in this bend of the river, has been found the new waterway. It is described by the travellers as flowing through wide plains well adapted for cultivation, with pasturage, and forests of palms, and gutta-percha trees. Plenty of ivory was obtainable, in exchange for empty boxes and tins, from the inhabitants of the many villages which lined the banks of the river. There are many affluents to this waterway, one of which was navigable for two hundred and fifty miles. Altogether, we have presented to us in the Report a network of navigable rivers extending over a length of more than three thousand miles.
An interesting note in the Times tells of a place in Russia, in the region of the Transbaïkal, where there exists a multitude of mineral springs. These have been held in high repute by the natives for many years, and it has long been the custom to bring patients to the springs for curative treatment. Not only human beings, but cattle, sheep, and horses suffering from cutaneous affections have, it is alleged, benefited by such treatment. The temperature of the springs varies from thirty-five to over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; and some are ferruginous, some alkaline, and others sulphurous in composition. At present, the alleged virtues of these waters are only known locally, and there is little accommodation for strangers. But it is believed that, in the future, patients will be attracted to the place from great distances.
At Sonnblick, one of the heights of the Tyrolese Alps, the summit of which is ten thousand feet above the sea-level, an observatory is in course of construction, which will represent the highest establishment of the kind in Europe. The summit of this mountain is more easily accessible than some of the neighbouring peaks; and there is already a wire-rope way which affords communication with some mines half-way up the mountain. It was the owner of these mines who was the first to point out the desirability of establishing an observatory here. The building will consist of a blockhouse and a massive stone turret forty feet high, which will form the observatory proper. The house is being built of timber in preference to stone, as experience teaches that the former material is more effectual in keeping out the intense cold prevalent at such an altitude. The observer will be in telephonic communication with the miner’s house two thousand feet below him; and from the latter place a record of his observations will be telegraphed to the nearest city, and thence all the world over.
Another portion of the old wall of London has recently been laid bare by some excavations now in progress near Ludgate Hill, at the Broadway, Blackfriars. This portion of the ancient defence of the capital is clearly a continuation of the fragment removed a few years ago, and is built mainly of limestone and rough mortar intermingled with tiles, bricks, and, strange to say, lumps of soft white chalk.
We have lately had the opportunity of examining a little piece of apparatus which represents the most recent advance in photographic contrivances. In outward appearance it is a book, somewhat less in size than the ordinary two-shilling railway novel. Upon opening it, it is seen to have flexible folds like the web of a duck’s foot, and when open, it remains so fixed by invisible springs. It is in reality a wedge-shaped camera furnished with a lens, which is sunk into the middle of the back of the imitation book. It is also furnished with a hidden shutter, which closes and uncloses the lens aperture at the will of the owner.
The recent inclement and unseasonable weather in the south of England has been characterised by two very unusual occurrences. First, at Deal in Kent, a small whirlwind lifted some boats from the beach, displaced a heavy crane on the railway, and did other damage. A few days afterwards, a similar phenomenon occurred at Sparham, Norfolk, which presented some extraordinary features. Its course could be traced for half a mile; and its path of destruction was well marked by a patch which, commencing with a width of two yards only, finished at the end of the half mile with a width of one hundred yards. During the two minutes which the storm lasted, it uprooted trees, unroofed houses, pulverised some hencoops, and wrought much destruction. The weather was perfectly calm except over the space covered by the whirlwind.
The total eclipse of the sun which will take place on the 29th of August is to be observed by an expedition sent out by the Royal Society and by funds from the Treasury. The party will at first proceed to Barbadoes, and will be conveyed thence to Grenada by a war-vessel. The island will be covered with stations for observing the eclipse, and all modern instruments will be used in the operations. The eclipse will not be visible at Greenwich.
There has been established for many years a school of practical engineering at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, and this school has already educated many who have excelled in their profession. As an example of the practical method of instruction pursued, we note that recently a steamer of thirteen hundred tons was worked from London to Dundee and back by a division of the students who are turning their attention to marine engineering. They were divided into gangs of four, and each gang had to work for ten hours in the engine-room under the strictest discipline. While in the north, they had an opportunity of making a professional inspection of the new Tay Bridge.
Experiments have recently been made at Berlin with a new description of military shell which is charged with rolls of gun-cotton. The projectile is said to be so destructive that no defensive works however solid can withstand it. The German government are so satisfied with the experiments that they have ordered a large number of the shells to be manufactured forthwith.
According to the Revue Scientifique, the discovery or suggestion of the Germ theory of disease cannot be placed to the credit of modern physicists, but is due to a Dr Goiffon, who died at Lyons more than one hundred and fifty years ago. He published a work on the Origin of the Plague in 1721, from which the following is quoted: ‘Minute insects or worms can alone explain these diseases. It is true they are not visible, but it does not therefore follow that they are non-existent. It is only that our microscopes are not at present powerful enough to show them. We can easily imagine the existence of creatures which bear the same proportion to mites that mites bear to elephants. No other hypothesis can explain the facts; neither the malign influence of the stars, nor terrestrial exhalations, nor miasmata, nor atoms, whether biting or burning, acid or bitter, could regain their vitality once they had lost it. If, on the other hand, we admit the existence of minute living creatures, we understand how infection can be conveyed in a latent condition from one place, to break out afresh in another.’
Among the multifarious objects on view at that palace of wonders, the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, are naturally many products of the animal and vegetable kingdoms which are comparatively strange to British experience. Among these may be named certain drugs, gums and resins, oils, dyes, different kinds of timber fibres, leathers, &c. Now, it is evident that many of these things may be useful to our manufacturers if only their properties can be made known. With this view, arrangements have been made for the systematic examination of these foreign products, to see whether they can be applied to present manufactures, or whether they are suitable for new purposes. Visitors to the Exhibition can attend these examinations, which, if necessary, will be followed by conferences.
A thoughtful man, in strolling through the vast network of galleries at the Colonial Exhibition, cannot help feeling that there is some excuse for the national boast that ‘Britannia rules the waves,’ for all the treasures of the earth seem to be gathered together here. The next thought that must occur to every one is the regret that the Exhibition is only a temporary one, and that the riches which have been gathered with such care and trouble from such a wide area must soon be again dispersed. There are indications that this regret, felt as it is by the executive as well as by the casual visitor, may lead to a practical result. For years it has been urged by a few that London ought to possess a Colonial Museum. We have now an unusual opportunity for forming the nucleus of such an establishment, and that opportunity should not be lost.
It seems difficult to believe that in these hard-working and matter-of-fact times, persons should be found who revert to the gross superstitions common to the people in far-off centuries. A so-called astrologer has been for a year at least making a good living by casting nativities in the neighbourhood of Brunswick Square, London; but his operations have been cut short by a fine in the police court.
The controversy which has been going on for some months between Mr J. C. Robinson and Sir James D. Linton as to the alleged fading of water-colour paintings through exposure to light and other influences is now to be brought to public arbitration. Sir James Linton, the President of the Royal Institute of Painters, has arranged to open an exhibition of the works of the most celebrated artists of the last fifty years, so that all may judge whether they have deteriorated. He is a champion for the permanence of this delightful phase of art; while Mr Robinson thinks differently.
The manufacture of whitelead, while representing one of our most important industries, has always had the bad character of being most destructive to the health and lives of the workmen employed in it. The substitution of other materials in the making of white paint has been constantly tried, but all give the palm to whitelead because of its ‘covering’ power. A new process has just been devised by Messrs Lewis and Bartlett for producing whitelead of the finest quality direct from the ore. The process is too long to describe here, but we may briefly state its advantages over the old method. It combines two manufactures, for whitelead and piglead are produced simultaneously. No deleterious fumes escape into the atmosphere, for the smelting furnace employed has no chimney. The operations are conducted with a greatly reduced expenditure of time and labour; while, best of all, the industry is not in any way hurtful to the workers. The process is an American one, and is introduced into this country by Messrs John Hall & Sons of Bristol.
It would seem from the letter of a correspondent to the Standard that frogs and mice are deadly enemies. This gentleman observed a battle-royal going on between these creatures in a shed. The mice pursued the frogs all over the place, for some little time without result, for the frogs managed to elude them. But gradually the mice gained an advantage, capturing and recapturing the frogs, and biting them until they were incapable of further resistance. The mice then finished the business by devouring a portion of the dead frogs.
The last new agricultural implement is a hay-loader, which has been recently patented by Mr Spilman of Dakota. This machine collects the scattered hay from the field, raises it to a suitable height, and finally discharges it upon the hayrack of the wagon. Lovers of the beauties of the country will regret that the pleasant sight afforded by a number of bronzed haymakers loading a wagon, a scene which has so often tempted the artist’s pencil, should be threatened by the introduction of this mechanical thing. But time is money, and there is now little room for sentiment.
From the Report of a Cattle Show recently held at Buenos Ayres we learn that the South Americans are by no means behind Europeans in their use of machinery and implements for agricultural use. Also, that the live-stock there has much benefited by the importation of short-horns from Britain, and from Charolais in France, so far as the cattle are concerned, and that the sheep have equally benefited by acquaintance with our southdowns and with the French merinos. Some few years ago, a loud outcry arose among our agriculturists that buyers from the other side of the Atlantic were purchasing all our best stock at prices far beyond what the British farmer could afford to pay. There is now the hope that we shall be recouped by the importation of mutton and beef of first-rate quality. The freezing process has now been brought to such perfection that, with meat from the English stock, it should afford us the opportunity of getting the best flesh food far cheaper than we can attempt to raise it for ourselves.
Surely Mr Flinders Petrie is the most successful and energetic digger that the archæological world has ever seen. His past discoveries have already resulted in much increased knowledge of dead nations; but now he has lighted upon a most curious find in the north-eastern delta of the Nile: this is a royal palace, which is identified with the greatest certainty with that building which the Bible calls ‘Pharaoh’s house in Tahpanhes.’ The building carries us back in imagination to the Egypt of two thousand five hundred years ago. Next to its scriptural connection, interest centres in the description of the domestic offices of the building; and as we read of the kitchen with its dresser, the butler’s pantry full of empty wine vessels and their stoppers, the sanctum of the scullery-maid with its sink, we feel that the place has been tenanted by ordinary human beings. Mr Petrie’s account of the sink is worth quoting: ‘It is formed of a large jar with the bottom knocked out, and filled with broken potsherds placed on edge. The water ran through this, and thence into more broken pots below, placed one in another, all bottomless, going down to the clean sand some four or five feet below.’
Mr Francis Greene publishes in an American journal the results of some careful observations which he has made on street traffic. According to him, asphalt is a far better covering for roads than either granite or wood. He puts the matter in this way: a horse will travel five hundred and eighty-three miles on asphalt before meeting with an accident, four hundred and thirteen on granite, and two hundred and seventy-two miles on wood. This agrees with experience in London with regard to the first two materials, but not with regard to wood, which experts say is the safest material of all. Londoners have certainly the best means of judging of this, for there is very little wood-paving in America. At the same time, it is quite certain that altogether accidents are far more frequent in London. This may be accounted for by the dampness of the air, which gives rise to the peculiar greasiness of the streets, so fatal to horses; and also by the increased traffic, which leads to the accumulation of manure, another element in the slippery state of the roads.
The snail harvest has recently begun in France. The ‘poor man’s oyster’ is so appreciated by our neighbours that Paris alone consumes some forty-nine tons daily, the best kind coming from Grenoble or Burgundy. The finest specimens are carefully reared in an escargotière, or snail-park, such as the poor Capuchin monks planned in bygone days at Colmar and Weinbach, when they had no money to buy food, and so cultivated snails. But the majority are collected by the vine-dressers in the evening from the stone heaps where the snails have assembled to enjoy the dew. The creatures are then starved in a dark cellar for two months, and when they have closed up the aperture of their shell, are ready for cooking. According to the true Burgundy method, they are boiled in five or six waters, extracted from the shell, dressed with fresh butter and garlic, then replaced in the shell, covered with parsley and bread crumbs, and finally simmered in white wine.