IV.—THE COLLAPSE.
The Princess was charmed with Catharine Plantagenet, who, in truth, was as gentle and true-hearted a girl as could be met with anywhere; but when she became fully aware of the deception to which she was a party, it was with the greatest difficulty that Charlie persuaded her to refrain from telling her proud hostess the secret of her birth.
‘Well,’ said Catharine, ‘under any circumstances I won’t consent to take advantage of your aunt’s weakness. I hate false pretences. Your aunt ought to do something for you, I confess, but let her do it with her eyes open.’
Ere long, however, the Princess, upon her own initiative, made a proposition to which even Catharine saw no objection.
‘My dear,’ she said one morning, ‘I am getting old, and since you have been here with me, I have begun to feel that I should not like to be without you. Now I know perfectly well that Charles will be glad to stay here for the present; so, why don’t you make up your minds to marry and stay here together? When I die, the castle and everything belonging to it will be his. You need never regard yourselves, therefore, as trespassers upon my hospitality.’
‘And you really like to have me with you?’ asked Catharine.
‘Certainly, my dear.’
‘For my own sake, I mean?’ added Catharine.
‘Yes, for your own sake, and quite apart even from the fact that Charles loves you. I shall speak to him about it.’ And speak to him she did.
‘You will be quieter and better off here than in London,’ she said; ‘and you will be able to mature your plans for the future. You and Catharine shall have a separate establishment for yourselves; there is plenty of room for all of us. And if you have any hesitation on the score of money matters—which, after all, trouble the highest as well as the lowest—I may set your mind at ease, my dear Charles, by telling you that I have determined to give Catharine on her wedding-day a hundred thousand pounds by way of jointure. When I die, the rest will be yours.’
‘You are very good, aunt,’ exclaimed the king, who was fairly overcome by his relative’s liberality. ‘Yes; nowhere can we be happier than here. But let us be married quietly.’
‘By all means! Father M‘Fillan shall perform the ceremony in the chapel. Get Catharine to name a day—the sooner the better.’
Charlie talked over the matter that very evening with his sweetheart, and an arrangement was soon come to between them. The wedding was fixed for an early date; a few favoured guests were invited; and in due course Charlie and Catharine became man and wife, Tom acting as best-man, and Sandy Gordon, who, on account of his age and patriarchal beard, seemed to be peculiarly fitted for the part, giving away the bride. There was, of course, a feast for the tenantry; and the brass gun on the wall was again fired—this time until it burst; but, as the Princess regretfully said, the ceremony was not worthy of the event. It ought to have taken place at Holyrood or Westminster Abbey.
Charlie and Catharine went to Edinburgh for their honeymoon; and when they returned to Balquhalloch, the castle settled down once more into its normal condition of peace and quietness. Tom and the Princess spent much of their time in the library, working hard at the family history; and the young couple, with nothing to worry them, and only themselves to think about, passed a delightful existence, which seemed as if it could never become wearisome.
But matters could not go on for ever in this way. The Princess in time began to ask Charlie about his plans. ‘Will arms be required?’ she wanted to know. ‘Will there be uniforms for the troops? What hope is there of foreign assistance? Can the officers and men throughout the country be bribed?’ And above all, ‘When are you going to rise and strike for your rights?’ In short, the situation threatened to become critical. And when, nearly a year after his wedding, Charlie found himself the proud father of a boy, he realised that he must either act, or permit his good aunt to scorn him as a weak-kneed, cowardly shadow of a king.
The auspicious event caused the Princess to be unusually active. She desired, ere the grand stroke should be dealt, to be in a position to publish abroad a full and complete pedigree, tracing the descent of the Stuarts of Balquhalloch from the royal Stuarts of Scotland; and hearing that a number of old records bearing upon the question were for sale in London, she despatched Tom Checkstone thither with carte blanche to buy whatever he could lay his hands upon. Tom was absent for ten days; and when he reappeared, he had with him a large chest full of dusty, mouldy, discoloured documents. These treasures were conveyed to the library, and for a week the Princess almost lived among them.
One day Charlie and Catharine, who was now convalescent, were sitting at luncheon, when, without warning, the Princess burst into the room. She was very violently excited. Her gray hair had fallen loose, her cheeks were pallid, and her hands were clenched convulsively.
‘What is the matter?’ exclaimed Charlie and Catharine, both rising together and rushing to support their aunt.
‘Matter!’ she cried—‘matter?’ and she began to weep hysterically.
‘Tell me,’ implored Catharine. ‘What can we do?’
But Tom, who had followed the Princess, and who now appeared in the open doorway, soon explained the cause of the outbreak.
‘Look here!’ he said, as he held out a yellow parchment. ‘It is a terrible blow to your aunt, Charlie. There has been some mistake. You are not descended from the royal Stuarts at all. A similarity of names and some careless copying are responsible for the error.’
Charlie seized the manuscript, and having hastily glanced at it, threw it aside, and went to his aunt, who was already being attended to by Catharine.
The Princess had fainted; but ere long she recovered, and was able to tell her version of the story. She had been completing the pedigree; she had almost arrived at the last link, when the whole chain had been snapped by this hideous discovery. She would never get over the shock. To think that after all she was a nobody! It was too dreadful!
They led her to her own room, and in time succeeded in calming her. Then, in order to convince himself, Charlie carefully examined the parchment. Its statements could not be gainsaid. The Stuarts of Balquhalloch had no connection with royalty; and he would not now be required to seize the throne of Great Britain. To him the revelation came, it must be remarked, as a welcome relief; but for days and weeks it made his poor aunt miserable; and when she finally reconciled herself to her lot, it seemed as if her energy and pleasure in life had departed for ever. Indeed, she never entirely got over the blow, and at the beginning of this year she died.
Charlie and Catharine were with her to the last, and she bequeathed everything to them. Balquhalloch, therefore, is now theirs; and Tom Checkstone, who, rightly or wrongly, regarded himself as Charlie’s good genius, holds sway as his friend’s secretary, man of business, chum, and general factotum.
THE MONTH:
SCIENCE AND ARTS.
On the 27th of August, the British Association commenced its fifty-fourth annual meeting—not this year, however, on British soil, but at Montreal in Canada. Some hundreds of members travelled from this country to be present at the meeting. Both on the part of the city and of the Dominion, the reception of the Association has been everything that could be desired by its members. Montreal itself raised forty thousand dollars towards defraying the expenses of the visit, and three hundred of the members were, besides, received as guests into private houses. The new President, Lord Rayleigh, Professor of Experimental Physics in the University of Cambridge, delivered the opening address, in which he sketched the progress that had been made in certain important branches of science. The final meeting of the Association was held on the afternoon of September 3, and was largely attended, about two thousand persons being present. Lord Rayleigh in addressing the assembly, said that no meeting had been held in which the Association had been provided with such spacious rooms. Resolutions in favour of the erection of a free public library in Montreal, as a memorial of the visit, were then passed, and a large amount of money was immediately promised in aid of this object, among the donations being one of ten thousand pounds. The total money grants in favour of scientific investigations made at the Montreal meeting were fifteen hundred and fifty pounds. The tickets issued for members of the Association for this session numbered seventeen hundred and thirty, and the money received amounted to eighteen hundred pounds.
Within the last twenty-five years, and more especially since the Franco-German war, when the French made such good use of balloons, there have been somewhat frequent rumours that the problem of aërial navigation, comprised in the possibility of guiding and propelling a balloon in a given direction, had been solved. The machine in each case is carefully described, and generally it is represented as having risen gracefully in the air, travelled about a little, and then returned to its starting-point. Then, nothing more is heard of it. Such an event is said to have occurred last month in France. The gas-vessel—it can hardly be called a balloon, for it is cigar-shaped—is nearly two hundred feet long. A platform is hung below, upon which is a screw propeller, worked by a dynamo-machine and a large rudder. This description tallies almost exactly with the form of so-called steerable balloons which have been constructed, tried, and found useless by M. Giffard, M. Tissandier, and others in previous years. The French government have spent much money in experimental ballooning, and this last achievement is the result. Perhaps the authorities were obliged to show something for the money that was being spent, but we fear that that something is not anything new or profitable. Until an aërial machine be produced which shall make its way against strong currents, balloon navigation will remain as it has hitherto been.
Here is a clever American notion, and one which will probably have a wide application. It consists of a noiseless door-closer. In the ordinary metal or india-rubber spring, so commonly fixed to doors, the greatest energy is exerted at first, and the door generally slams with a noise which is very distressing to any one with nerves. In the new arrangement, the spring is fixed to the piston attached to a small air-cylinder, so that as the door closes, the resistance of the air in the cylinder checks its motion before the terrible bang arrives. A small opening in the cylinder then lets in the air, so that the spring once more asserts its authority with sufficient persuasion to gently close the door.
After the terrors excited by the alleged danger of using arsenical wall-papers, it is rather a relief to read the opinion of Mr R. Galloway, who has written an article upon the subject in the Journal of Science. ‘Has it,’ he asks, ‘ever been proved that persons who inhabit rooms the wall-paper of which is stained with emerald green, suffer from arsenical poisoning?’ He then points out that the injurious effects, if any, must be due to the mechanical detachment of the pigment from the paper, and that such homœopathic doses of the substance as could be carried by the air, would be totally different from the effects which arise from larger doses of arsenic. Moreover, he has made inquiry as to any cases of poisoning occurring during the packing of this finely divided pigment—during which operation the packers are surrounded by clouds of its dust—and could hear of none. Mr Mattieu Williams, a well-known writer on Science, is also of opinion that ‘arsenical wall-papers’ are practically harmless. We are glad to record these opinions, for the tendency of the present time is to point out lurking dangers in every direction, until one is apt to wonder how our forefathers, in their happy ignorance of sanitation, ever contrived to reach adult age.
At Reading, this autumn, a honey-fair is to be held, when prizes will be distributed to beekeepers who work on humane and advanced principles, and also to those who can show the greatest amount of unadulterated honey raised in a Berkshire hive. Such a show as this is worthy of every encouragement, for honey fetches a high price, and so does wax, even in these days of cheap sugar and composite candles. It thus becomes possible for the intelligent cottager to add considerably to his scanty means; and if he can be taught that honey can be won without periodical destruction of bees and comb, so much the better. There is some complaint that the newfangled hives, efficient though they be, are too expensive to supersede the old straw skep. The British Beekeepers’ Association might well turn their attention to this aspect of the matter.
Last year, Professor Huxley stated it as his opinion that no act of man could possibly influence the increase or decrease in the number of sea-fish. This was in answer to the gloomy anticipations of many that the herring and other fisheries would be gradually annihilated unless our fishermen were compelled by law to observe certain conditions. So far as herrings are concerned, the recent enormous catches have shown that there are fish as good and plentiful in the sea as ever yet came out. Last month, we saw these fish in splendid condition being sold at the Farringdon Fish Market, London, at one penny per dozen. By the way, can any one explain why, in these days of refrigerators and cheap ice, eighty-six tons of fish should be allowed in one month to become—at Billingsgate—unfit for human food?
At a flower-show at Frome the other day, prizes were offered by Miss Ormerod, the consulting entomologist to the Royal Agricultural Society of England, for the best collection of food-plants injured by insects, accompanied by samples of the injurious creatures themselves, and a short written account of the nature of their depredations and the preventive measures to be adopted in dealing with them. There was only one competitor, Mr Herbert Haley of Frome; but the collection which he showed was a very complete one, and was most highly commended by Miss Ormerod. As this was the first injurious-insect competition in this country, and was probably known to comparatively few persons, we need not be surprised at the want of competitors. Ten years ago in Paris, a similar Exhibition took place, in which nearly four hundred competitors took part. The exhibits included useful as well as injurious insects, which were divided into separate classes. Such competitions ought to be productive of a great amount of good.
Recent experiments have led to the adoption of many alterations in the torpedo system, which is likely to play such an important part in naval operations of the future. Hitherto, the torpedo—a huge fish-like case to hold explosives, and containing within itself an air-engine for propelling it through the water—was thrust from a ship’s side below the water-line. But it was found in practice that it was impossible to fire the agent of destruction in a straight line, especially if its mother-ship were under way. In the new method, the torpedo, which is sixteen feet long and fourteen inches in diameter, is fitted into a steel tube just large enough to contain the projectile. The pressure of a key admits highly compressed air to this tube, and the torpedo is shot out of an open port on exactly the same principle that a pea is projected from a pea-shooter. But in the case of the torpedo, its little but powerful engine is set to work the moment it reaches the water, and away speeds the torpedo on its terrible errand.
Professor Tuck of New York has constructed an electric torpedo boat, which will render submarine warfare very terrible, if the hopes raised by its recent trial are fulfilled. It is made of iron, in the shape of a cigar, or rather pointed at each end, and is thirty feet in length. It can travel on the surface of the water, or several feet below, at the will of its commander. The torpedoes are carried outside the vessel, and can be detached by the action of an electro-magnet, when it is desired to let one rise to the surface against any ship that may be lying overhead. By means of attached wires, the torpedo can be exploded when the submarine boat has retired to a position of safety. Jules Verne’s clever romance Thirty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, seems here to come into play.
Under the supervision of Mr Preece, the well-known electrician to the Post-office, an experiment of great interest has been recently conducted at Wimbledon, near London. The object of the experiment was to ascertain the best method of lighting streets by electricity, the lamps employed being the incandescent pattern advocated by Edison, Swan, and others. Some of the lamps were placed singly, others on poles twenty feet high, while at the same time the efficiency of different kinds of reflectors was tested. The cost is calculated to amount to one farthing per lamp per hour for each unit of light, valued at ten candles. Now, the cost of gas for a similar amount of light is one-fifth of a penny, so that the difference in expense between the two systems is not very great. On the other hand, the advantages of the electric light in the open air, where no question of impure products of combustion need come in, almost disappear; gas, therefore, still fulfils the required conditions.
It is to be hoped that the new regulations for the prevention of collisions at sea, which have just been published, will have the effect of reducing those calamities, which have of late become fearfully familiar. The twenty-seven articles contained in these regulations refer to lights, sound-signals for fog, steering and sailing rules, precautions to be adopted, and special rules for squadrons and convoys. We may call particular attention to article nineteen, which indicates how one vessel can signal to another by a steam-whistle. Thus—one short blast to mean, ‘I am directing my course to starboard;’ two short blasts, ‘I am going to port;’ three to mean, ‘I am going full speed astern.’ Any one will readily remark how such signals could be added to almost indefinitely. Indeed, it is simply the method adopted in the army for flash-signalling with the heliograph, adapted to sound-signalling with the steam-whistle. In such a system, unfortunately, there are few, in moments of danger, who can keep their heads cool enough to avoid making perilous mistakes. It is somewhat like talking quietly when the house is on fire.
About four years ago, the startling scheme of carrying ships upon a specially constructed railway track bodily across that little neck of land which ties together the two Americas was conceived by Mr Eades. This scheme was communicated to the British Association at York in 1881, and although the idea seems a novel one, like most engineering enterprises it can be doubtless accomplished if investors can be made to believe in its power of paying a good dividend. The suggested route would require a track one hundred and thirty-four miles in length, which must be laid with a compound railway of extremely solid construction. The worked-out details of the method of raising a ship on a pontoon, transferring it to a travelling cradle, and finally committing it to the deep once more, after its journey on dry land, are most ingenious. Mr Eades, who hails from the United States, is now in England, endeavouring to interest capitalists in his proposals.
The demolition of the old law-courts which adjoined Westminster Hall, has brought into view one of the most interesting pieces of stonework belonging to Norman times that can be found in London. The state of preservation of the wall of the old hall, upon which the marks of the mason’s tools are still visible, is due to the circumstance, that from a very early time it was under cover, for a cloister extended along the whole length of the building on this side. Mr Pearson, the architect, was lately requested to report upon the subject, and to suggest the best method of restoration compatible with the preservation of this unique relic of the reign of William Rufus; and it has been determined to restore the cloister as it originally stood. According to the opinion of Mr Shaw-Lefevre, the First Commissioner of Works, the edifice when completed will, with the Houses of Parliament and the old abbey adjacent, form one of the grandest groups of buildings in Europe.
The attractions of South Kensington Museum have lately been added to by the opening of a room containing a collection of antique casts, which have been collected and arranged by Mr W. C. Perry. This collection numbers about three hundred specimens, which illustrate the whole historical range of ancient art. Such a record of the plastic art of ancient times is of deep interest to the archæologist, as well as of immense value to the art student. The arrangement of the specimens is mainly chronological, and where one or two casts are, on account of inconvenient size, not shown in their right place, it is in consequence of want of space. We may venture to hope that at some not distant date, better accommodation will be found for this valuable and interesting collection.
The Great Western Railway has always been famed for the wonderful engineering difficulties which were grappled with by the daring Brunel, and many evidences of his skill are apparent to the traveller on that line. But even Brunel did not conceive the bold idea of piercing a tunnel twenty-six feet in diameter, and four and a half miles in length, beneath the bed of the Severn. But this great work has now been in progress for some years, and the operations latterly have been pushed forward with such rapidity by three thousand busy men, that its completion may soon be looked forward to. The tunnel will shorten considerably the distance between London and South Wales. It is constructed so as to dip considerably towards the centre, to which point any water will naturally gravitate. Here it will enter a drainage subway, which will carry it to the Welsh side, to be pumped up into the river. The great difficulty which the workers have had to contend with is the irruption of vast bodies of water from local springs. The crown of the tunnel lies at a depth of from eighty to a hundred feet beneath the bed of the river.
In these days of quick communication by telegraph and telephone, it is strange to see how it becomes occasionally convenient to employ ‘the bird of the air’ to ‘carry the voice.’ In Haddingtonshire, at the Penston Colliery, messages are carried from the pits to the offices, a distance of more than six miles, by pigeons, and they accomplish the work in about as many minutes. Telegrams are found to take about an hour in executing the same business, and telephones are inadmissible, because as yet no plan has been found by which the sounds can be permanently recorded.
In a recent lecture on Cholera and its Prevention, Professor de Chamont called attention to the very common and erroneous idea that tobacco-smoke, camphor, and other strongly smelling compounds act as disinfectants. He pointed out that although chlorine, sulphurous acid gas, and carbolic acid may under certain conditions be safely regarded as true disinfectants, the best and most efficient known is fire. He also, in speaking of sulphurous acid gas, generated by burning sulphur, showed that a ready way of facilitating combustion was first of all to pour upon the brimstone a little alcohol.
Mr Graham, who recently gave an account of his mountaineering experiences in the Himalaya, seems to have negatived some of our preconceived notions regarding the difficulty of breathing at high altitudes. At an elevation of more than four miles above the sea-level, Mr Graham and his companions felt no inconvenience in breathing except what might be expected from the muscular exertion they had gone through. Loss of sight, nausea, bleeding at the nose or ears, and other unpleasant symptoms often described by travellers, were entirely absent. But the heart was sensibly affected, its rapid pace being easily perceptible, and its beatings quite audible. It may be remembered that Mr Glaisher and Mr Coxwell, in the course of an experimental balloon ascent some years ago, nearly lost their lives by the effect upon their breathing organs of the highly attenuated atmosphere to which they had risen. But the altitude then reached was about double that attained by Mr Graham in the Himalaya.
A scheme has been proposed for the construction of an Indo-European railway, the chief novelty of which is the adoption of a route along the south shore of the Mediterranean. The line would utilise the railroads of France and Spain. Then there would be steam-transit from Gibraltar Bay to Ceuta in Morocco. Here would be the terminus proper of the international railway, which would be in connection with the lines already laid in Algeria and Tunis. The route would be continued through Tripoli to join the Egyptian lines, and eventually along the coast of the Persian Gulf to Kurrachee in India. Here, of course, contact would be made with the great Indian railway system. Preliminary surveys have been already made, and the nominal capital of the undertaking is fixed at ten millions sterling.
At the late meeting of the British Association in Canada, a very curious contribution to our knowledge of carnivorous plants was made by Professor Moseley, as a result of certain experiments he has made with the water-weed Utricularia vulgaris. This plant is furnished with small pear-shaped bladders, which at certain seasons are charged with air, and cause the weed to rise to the surface of the water. This movement has hitherto been supposed to be connected with the phenomenon of fertilisation. But Professor Moseley points out that each bladder has an opening closed by an elastic door, which will easily yield to the pressure of a small fish; and that any unfortunate intruder is either caught bodily, or can be securely held a prisoner by head or tail until dead. That there is here anything analogous to digestion as seen in other carnivorous plants, such as the Dionæa, &c., does not appear; but it is thought probable that the decomposing animal matter may contribute eventually to the life of the weed.
An invention of considerable importance in connection with the probability of saving life at sea has made its appearance during the month. This consists of an adaptation of the use of oil at sea to the ordinary life-buoy. Round the inside of the buoy is a brass reservoir filled with oil. This is so arranged that when the buoy is hung upon the vessel’s side no oil can escape; while the moment it assumes a horizontal position, as, for instance, when it is thrown into the sea, the oil flows freely, and the water all around the buoy is rapidly covered with a thin film. This soon widens into a large circle, within which, of course, the waves are unbroken, which enables persons to be the more easily secured by the ship’s boats. Since it is a well-known fact that in rough weather, when the cry ‘Man overboard!’ is oftenest heard, life-buoys are frequently useless, as even the strongest men are commonly washed off them, this practical adaptation of the use of oil at sea will probably prove of signal importance. It could, we imagine, also be readily applied to many of those improvised sea-rafts and similar appliances, and render them of great value in rough weather. It was the fault of many of those ingenious contrivances of this kind which were to be seen at the Fisheries Exhibition last year, that no one could possibly live on them in broken water, and this objection the use of oil in this way would certainly obviate. It should be noticed, however, that the chief value of the invention consists in the arrangement for the oil to flow automatically.
In addition to the electrically lighted colliery in South Wales, noticed in last ‘Month,’ we hear of another in Lanarkshire belonging to Mr John Watson, Earnock, near Hamilton. There may possibly be other workings thus illuminated throughout this country; and there is no doubt that ere long the brilliant and comparatively safe electric light will be generally adopted underground.
In Prussia also, as we learn from a contemporary, the electric light at the Mechernich Mines has now had a fair trial for more than three years, and has proved a complete success. The expectation that it would both facilitate the operations and increase their security, has fully been realised, and an extension of the plant is now being carried out. An open working two thousand feet long, one thousand feet wide, and over three hundred feet deep, in which three hundred men and twenty horses are continually occupied, was first to be supplied with the electric light, and it was a question whether arc lamps would answer for this purpose in the smoky atmosphere caused by blasting operations. For the first experiments, arc lamps of three thousand and one thousand candles were used, with the positive carbon in the lower holder. The effect was brilliant, yet the light did not penetrate the white smoke cloud which collects at the upper wall immediately after the shot. But as the smoke settles within ten minutes, it was thought advisable to acquiesce in this interruption of a few minutes, and to use smaller lamps of three hundred and fifty candles, which proved quite efficient. Of these, there are ten in use, with about ten thousand feet of lead cable, the cable being partially elastic, as the lamps with their wires have to be removed when the blasting is to take place. The lamps were originally supplied with hexagonal lanterns with obscured glass to protect the eyes of the miners. The glasses were, of course, soon broken, but no complaints are said to have been made about the naked electric lights.
The speech-recorder would appear to be an instrument of no small importance, if it is able to do in a practical manner that which the title of a patent recently applied for by Mr W. E. Irish would lead us to suppose. The title of the patent is as follows: ‘A system or method and means of receiving and recording articulated speech and other sounds transmitted telegraphically, telephonically, or otherwise, by the aid of electricity.’ The transmitting, as by telephone, and recording of speech in characters which may be easily read, would be of incalculable value. If this instrument fulfils what is claimed for it, the anticipations once hoped for in the phonograph will be realised, and in the future we may expect to see business-men talking their correspondence into a box in which mechanism, by the aid of electricity, records the same on paper, which may be forwarded as a letter. Moreover, literary men will be saved the drudgery of the pen, and have their thoughts recorded as rapidly as they can convey them to the instrument. The system of natural phonetic signs, which we should expect this instrument to describe, may also be the means of influencing spelling and of simplifying the phonographic difficulties of the language. Applications innumerable suggest themselves to us to which such an apparatus may be applied; the verifying and duplicating of orders received and sent telephonically, would form no small item in the advantages to be derived from such a system.
According to the Journal de Rouen, quoting from the Polytechnische Zeitung, the recent invention of M. Verk, by which is produced the effect of any metal on felt, is likely to become extremely useful when applied to theatrical stage properties, as, besides being inexpensive, the articles so treated are not materially increased in weight. The things intended to assume a metallic appearance are first of all covered with a layer of felt, which is coated over with a resinous substance mixed with plumbago or blacklead. This is left to dry, and is then passed over with a hot iron. The article is next rubbed with pumice-stone, which produces the effect of burnished steel. If copper, bronze, or silver is wished to be imitated, the felt—which is rendered a conductor by its coating—is covered readily by immersion in a galvano-plastic bath.