CHAPTER VI.—FAMILY COUNSEL.

Mr Grey's library is a curious little room, fitted up quite in his own way. Maps cover the sides of the walls, and a large bookcase holds the books, which are mostly nautical. Models of ships and steamers are on various shelves, there is an astrolabe near the window, and a sextant and some pattern guns on the table. Mr Grey is busy at the moment with official papers; his nimble fingers are copying a 'General Memo.' with wonderful rapidity. Hearing the stately step of his chief coming along the passage, he naturally supposes the Admiral has returned to give further directions about some orders ere long to be circulated amongst the ships. So he glances up over his spectacles pen in hand. Great is his surprise at seeing evident signs of agitation in Sir Herbert's face, as he says in a low tone: 'Put aside your papers for an instant, Grey. I want to consult you on quite another subject. I have come to ask your consent to my marriage with your daughter Katie.'

'Your marriage with my daughter, Sir Herbert!' and Mr Grey lets a huge drop of ink splash on his 'General Memo.' in his surprise.

'You seem astonished, Grey. Have you any objection to accept me as your son-in-law?'

'Pardon me, Sir Herbert, pardon my hesitation; but you startled me for the moment. I am conscious of the honour you are doing us; but have you considered how young and inexperienced Katie is? A mere girl, in fact. She is but little used to the ways of the world; hardly wise enough to hold the high position you offer her.'

The Admiral smiles. 'I will take the risk of all that. Katie is willing, and I am ready to marry her just as she is.'

'Then I give my full sanction.'

'Wish me joy, Grey. You don't say a word about that.'

'I will wish you something better and deeper than mere joy, Sir Herbert. I pray you may have true and unmixed happiness with my daughter. May she prove a wife worthy of you, and may you never regret your choice.'

There is a tremble in Mr Grey's voice as he grasps the Admiral's hand and ratifies the new bond sprung up so suddenly between them; and he looks thoughtfully after Sir Herbert as he leaves the room. Surely women are fickle, and his daughter Katie the most fickle of her sex!

Only two months ago, Walter Reeves had come into that very same room on the very same kind of mission. The same, but with a difference. He has not actually proposed for Katie, but had asked permission to visit at the house with that intention, in the event of his love being reciprocated. And Katie knows all this, and up to the present has received Walter's attentions, and seemed to take them as her right. But now all this is set aside, and a man nearly as old as her father himself has stepped in and won the girl as a willing prize. Well may the old sailor marvel! Things have changed since the days 'long ago,' when he wooed his wife, and waited nine long years for her because he could not afford to marry sooner. His true old-fashioned love has but intensified as years have sped on; the trials of life have but drawn the wedded pair closer to each other. Will this be the experience of Katie and the Admiral?'

Worthy Mr Grey cannot settle that point; so he goes up-stairs to hear what Katie herself has to say on the subject.

Miss Grey lingers in the drawing-room after the Admiral has gone. There seems something strangely sad and vague and solemn in the whole affair, now it has gone so far; and when her mother comes into the room with Helen leaning on her arm, she exclaims at once, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes and defiant tone: 'Wish me joy, mother, and Helen! I am going to be married!'

'I'm glad it is settled at last, Katie; and I hope you will be very happy. Walter has had plenty of patience, I'm sure,' says Mrs Grey in her quiet voice, as she settles Helen comfortably on the sofa and turns round to give Katie a kiss of congratulation.

But her daughter draws back with a look of annoyance.

'Why do you talk of Walter? I am not going to marry him. My intended husband's name stands far higher in the Navy List. I'm going to be married to Admiral Sir Herbert Dillworth!'

'Sir Herbert!' exclaim Helen and her mother together.

'Yes. Why are you surprised?'

'I'm sure we've good reason for surprise, considering all that has gone on about Walter. Katie, Katie! what new fancy has hold of you now?' The voice is Mrs Grey's, the tone one of reproach.

Katie is growing angry. 'The fancy is no new one, mother. Had you not all been very blind, you might have guessed what was coming long ago.'

'Do you really love Sir Herbert?' asks Helen, with that deep-seeing look of hers, that somehow always makes her elder sister a little in awe of her.

'I like him; the rest will come by-and-by; and I'm glad and proud of my lot.'

There is a ring in Katie's voice, as though she has flung down the gauntlet of self-approval, and challenges any one to take it up and contradict her. Her father is not the one to do this. He comes into the room at the moment, hears Katie's asseveration, and feels as if a world of doubt had rolled away from his mind. Considering his own word 'his bond,' he judges his daughter by the same standard. 'That's right, Katie, and sounds earnest. You may well be proud of your lot, and of Sir Herbert too: there isn't a better, braver, more honourable man alive; he's unselfish and high-principled to his heart's core. I've served three commissions under him, and ought to know him well; and I'd rather see a child of mine lying in her grave, than that she should bring discredit on his name. Kiss me, my girl! I wish you happiness. Well may you be proud of our Admiral!'

Katie receives the kiss just a little impatiently; she believes she has won 'high stakes,' and does not relish any doubts on the subject.

[THE CROCODILE AND GAVIAL.]

Two species of crocodile inhabit our Indian rivers, and both are especially numerous in such streams as the Ganges and its tributaries, the Berhampooter, and many others. Sir Emerson Tennent, in his Natural History of Ceylon, points out an error which Anglo-Indians and others are often given to—namely, of applying the term alligator to animals which are in reality crocodiles. There are no alligators in the Indian peninsula. The true alligator is the hideous cayman of South America, and differs in one or two important respects from the crocodile of the Nile and Ganges.

The first and by far the most widely distributed of the two saurians inhabiting our Indian rivers is the common crocodile, exactly similar to the animal frequenting the Nile and other streams of Northern Africa, and known throughout Bengal by its Hindustani title of 'Mugger.' The second species is the Gavial or Gurryal (Gavialis Gangeticus). This reptile is, I believe, only found in Hindustan, and is indigenous to the Ganges; hence its specific title.

The habits of the two creatures are in general very similar, but yet differ in one or two important points. The mugger often grows to an enormous size, not unfrequently reaching twenty feet in length, and is thick built in proportion. The limbs are short, feet palmated, the fore-feet furnished with five, the hind with four toes. The head (which in aspect is extremely hideous) is broad and wedge-shaped, the muzzle rather narrow, the eyes small, deep set, and of a villainous glassy green hue. The jaws when shut lock as closely and firmly together as a vice. The teeth are of a formidable description, varying much in size and length. When the mouth is closed, the tusks in the extremity of the lower jaw pass completely through and often project above the tip of the upper. The body is incased with scaly armour-plates, very thick and massive on the back, but to a less extent on the sides of the body. The reptile breathes through its nostrils, which are situated near the tip of the snout. By this wonderful provision of nature, the crocodile is enabled to lie in wait for its prey with the whole of its body, except the nostrils, concealed beneath the surface of the water.

The gavial much resembles the mugger in general structure (though the body is not usually so thickly built), with one notable exception, and that is the totally different shape and character of the snout. The jaws of the gavial are long, straight, and narrow; the teeth, which are regular, wide apart from one another, and even, are of a far less formidable description than those of the common crocodile. They much resemble in general appearance the rows of jagged teeth which garnish the edges of the upper jaw of the saw-fish. The snout is often several feet in length, and there is a peculiar knob or protuberance at the tip; and the nostrils, as in the other species, are situated near the extremity.

The gavial has been described by some writers as 'the scourge of the Ganges' and a 'ferocious animal;' but I venture to say that this is a highly exaggerated if not an altogether erroneous statement. It is possible that occasionally—though I am convinced very rarely—the gavial may seize a human being; but the reptile is essentially a fish-eater, and unlike the mugger, is little to be dreaded by the swimmer or bather. I have frequently, when strolling along the banks of our Indian rivers, observed the head of a gavial momentarily raised above the surface of the water in the act of swallowing some large fish held transversely across its jaws, the long beak and rows of sharp teeth with which nature has furnished it, greatly assisting the creature in snapping up such slippery prey.

Crocodiles frequent the wide open channels and reaches of our large Indian rivers, especially in the neighbourhood of large towns, such as Dinapore, Allahabad, or Benares. In such resorts, whole families of both gavials and muggers may be seen lying together side by side on points of sand or low mud islands left dry by the current of the stream; they delight to bask in the scorching rays of the mid-day sun.

The animals always lie asleep close to the margin, and generally with their heads pointing away from the water. They are extremely watchful; and on being alarmed by the near approach of some boat gliding past or human beings walking along the bank, after contemplating the objects of their suspicion for a short space of time, they one after another awkwardly wheel round, and with a splash and a flounder speedily vanish beneath the surface of the water, to reappear again so soon as the cause of their alarm has passed.

Though hideous and repulsive in appearance, these reptiles nevertheless fulfil a most useful office as scavengers. In the neighbourhood of large towns on the banks of the Ganges, hundreds of dead bodies are daily cast into the holy river by the Hindus; and in a tropical climate like India, were it not for crocodiles, turtles, and vultures assembling and devouring the corpses, speedily some dreadful plague would break out and spread death around.

Judging from the accounts of travellers, the crocodiles inhabiting the African continent must be far more dangerous than their confrères of Asia; for though we sometimes hear of muggers taking to man-eating, especially in Lower Bengal and parts of Assam, yet such practices are not the rule, as is generally supposed.

I have, however, seen patches of water near the foot of ghats or flights of steps fenced round with a close and strong hedge of bamboo stakes, driven firmly into the river-bed, for the purpose of protecting bathers or women drawing water from the assaults of man-eating crocodiles; and it is a dangerous practice at all times to bathe in pools frequented by such monsters. Cows, horses, sheep, goats, and dogs, besides the numerous wild inhabitants of the jungle, all form a prey of the mugger. The cunning animal, well acquainted with some spot where, towards sunset, flocks and herds, after the heat of the day has passed, are in the habit of drinking, there lies in wait concealed amid the sedge bordering the margin. Presently some unlucky victim in the shape of a poor bullock parched with thirst, comes hurrying down the bank and eagerly approaches the water; but hardly has its mouth reached the surface, when the blood-thirsty crocodile seizes it by the nose; and if once successful in securing a firm grip, the chances are, that unless the herdsman is at hand to render assistance, the unfortunate bullock, in spite of struggling desperately to free itself, is soon dragged down on to its knees, and later beneath the surface of the pool.

It has been asserted that tigers ere now have been seized, and after a hard fight, overpowered by the crocodile. Possibly this may occasionally happen; but I imagine such an occurrence to be extremely rare; and my impression is, that such redoubtable champions, each capable of inflicting severe punishment on his opponent, would avoid rather than risk coming to blows.

It is generally imagined that the plated coat of mail covering the crocodile's body renders the animal invulnerable to bullets. Such may have been the case in the days of brown-bess; but a spinning conical ball fired from a Martini-Henry or other grooved weapon of the present day, will not only readily pierce, but even pass completely through the body of the largest crocodile.

It is the extraordinary tenacity of life with which all the lizard family are endowed, that has in a great measure given rise to this notion of their invulnerability; for unless shot through the head, neck, heart, or such-like vital part, the crocodile, even when desperately wounded by a bullet through the body, will almost invariably gain the water, only shortly afterwards to sink dead to the bottom, to be devoured by some of its cannibal relations.

Near a station where I happened to be quartered for many years in Central India, there was a large lake where crocodiles were known yearly to breed. After some trouble, I procured two mugger's eggs from some fishermen who frequented the spot. They were of an oval shape, dirty white colour and rough surface. The female crocodile about the month of May, having scraped a hole with her feet in the sand or mud of some dry island, deposits her eggs therein, and carefully covers them up, leaving the heat of the sun to hatch out her progeny. Meanwhile she hovers about the spot, till at length the thin layer of sand covering the eggs upheaves, the young issue forth, and escorted by the mother, take to their natural element, the water.

J. H. B.

[SHAMROCK LEAVES.]

A WEDDING.

At Irish country weddings of the lower orders, the priest is paid by voluntary contributions of the wedding guests. The marriage is generally celebrated in the evening, and is followed, especially among the farming classes, by a grand festivity, to which his "Riverince" is always invited. After supper, when the hearts of the company are merry with corned beef and greens, roast goose, ham, and whisky-punch, the hat goes round.

Honor Malone was the prettiest girl in the barony; and a lucky boy on his marriage day was the bridegroom; albeit on the occasion he looked very ill at ease in a stiff, shiny, brand-new, tight-fitting suit of wedding clothes. Lucky, for in addition to her good looks, the bride had fifty pounds to her fortune and three fine cows.

Very pretty and modest she looked seated beside the priest, blushing a great deal, and wincing not a little at his Reverence's somewhat broad jokes. And most becoming was the 'white frock' in which she was attired; a many-skirted garment, resplendent with 'bow-knots' and trimmings of white satin ribbons.

'As good as new,' my lady's-maid at the Castle, from whom she had bought it, had assured her. 'Made by the grandest French dressmaker in all London, and worn at only a couple of balls; her young ladies were so cruel particular, and couldn't abide the suspicion of a crush or a soil on their gowns.'

In the midst of his jokes and his jollity (and with an eye to future dues, nowhere is a priest half so good-humoured as at a wedding), while apparently absorbed in attention to the pretty bride, whose health had just been drunk in a steaming tumbler, Father Murphy perceived with his business eye that preparations were being made for sending round the plate in his behalf.

The stir began at the end of the table where the 'sthrong farmers' mustered thickest. A goodly set they were, in their large heavy greatcoats of substantial frieze, corduroy knee-breeches, and bright blue stockings; their comely dames wearing the capacious blue or scarlet cloth cloak with silk-lined hood, which, like the greatcoat of the men, is an indispensable article in the gala toilet of their class, even in the dog-days.

In the midst of the group was Jim Ryan. Now this Jim Ryan was the sworn friend and adherent of Father Murphy; he would have gone through fire and water to serve his Reverence. He was rather a small man in the parish as regarded worldly goods, having neither snug holding nor dairy farm; but he was highly popular, being considered a 'dhroll boy' and good company.

When the proceedings of this devoted follower met the priest's business eye before alluded to, they caused considerable surprise to that intelligent organ, insomuch as greatly to damage a very pretty compliment his Reverence was in the act of making to the bride.

First Jim Ryan took hold of the collecting plate, and seemed about to carry it round. Then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he stopped short, and dashed it down on the table with a clatter and a bang that made Mrs Malone wince, for it was one of her best china set.

Jim's next proceeding was to try all his pockets. He dived into his waistcoat, breeches, and swallow-tailed coat receptacles, one after another, but without finding what he wanted. At last, after much hunting and shaking, and many grimaces of disappointment, he pounced on the object of his search, and drew carefully from some unknown depths a large tattered leather pocket-book.

By this time every one's attention was fixed upon him. Deliberately he opened the book, and peering inside—having first ascertained by a covert glance around that the company were observing—he extracted from it a bank-note. This, when unfolded, he spread out and flattened ostentatiously on the table, so that all who looked might read 'Ten Pounds' inscribed upon it!

A flutter of astonishment ran through the guests, not unmixed with signs of dismay among the richer portion. Fat pocket-books that a few moments before were being pompously produced by their owners, were stealthily thrust back again. A sudden pause was followed by a great whispering and consulting among the farmers. Anxious and meaning looks were bestowed on the latter by their wives, to say nothing of expressive nudges, and digs into conjugal ribs where practicable. For there was always much rivalry in these offerings. Misther Hennessy, who drove his family to mass every Sunday in his own jaunting car, would scorn to give less than Misther Welsh; though he too was a 'warm' man, and always got top price for his butter at Limerick market. And now to be outdone by Jim Ryan! To proffer his Reverence five pounds, when the likes of him was giving ten! It was not to be thought of! So the result, after Jim had deposited his note with a complacent flourish on the plate, and had gone his rounds with the latter, was the largest collection that had ever gladdened the heart or filled the pockets of Father Murphy.

As the priest was leaving the place, Jim came up to him and laid his hand on the horse's bridle: 'A good turn I done yer Riverince this night, didn't I? Such a mort of notes an' silver an' coppers I niver laid eyes on! I thought the plate would be bruk in two halves with the weight. An' now'—in a whisper, and looking round to see there was no one listening—'where's my tin pound note back for me?'

'Your ten pound note, man! What do you mean by asking for it? Is it to give you back part of my dues, you want?

'Ah then now, Father Murphy dear, sure an' sure you niver was so innocent as to think that blessed note was mine! Where upon the face of the living earth would a poor boy like me get such a sight of money as that? Tin pounds! I borryed it, yer Riverince, for a schame; an' a mighty good an' profitable schame it's turned out. Sure I knew the sight of it would draw the coin out of all their pockets; an' by the powers! so it did.' A fact his Reverence could not deny, while—not without interest—he refunded Jim's ingenious decoy-duck.

[THE ITALIAN GRIST-TAX.]

In our own favoured realms millers have their troubles, no doubt, as well as other folk, but at anyrate they are not tormented with a grist-tax; and indeed in these enlightened days we should have thought that such an impost was unknown in all countries claiming to have attained a high degree of civilisation. Mr Edward Herries, C.B., late Her Majesty's Secretary of Legation at Rome, in the course of his elaborate Report on the Financial System of Italy, has, however, shewn us our mistake; and in tracing the history and present position of the tax, he furnishes us with some curious particulars respecting it.

As our readers will doubtless be struck with the anomaly of a powerful government having recourse nowadays to indirect taxation to augment its revenue, it may be well at the outset to cite a brief paragraph from Mr Herries' Report, in order to shew how it happened that the grist-tax came to be reimposed upon the people of Italy.

Towards the close of the year 1865, he writes, M. Sella, then Minister of Finance, having to meet a deficit estimated for 1866 at upwards of two hundred and sixty-one million lire (say ten million four hundred and fifty thousand pounds), and being compelled, he said, to have recourse to indirect taxation for a large increase of revenue, urged upon the Chamber of Deputies the revival of the grist-tax, which he considered as fulfilling more completely than any other new impost that could be found the essential conditions of great productiveness, wide diffusion, and equal pressure on all parts of the kingdom.

The impost seems to have made its first appearance in Sicily, where it was a source of revenue during the Norman period, and there, no one was allowed to carry corn to be ground without first obtaining, after much delay, a permit, for which he had to pay the duty chargeable on the grinding of the corn. The attestation of the officer in charge of the mill was requisite for the removal of the flour, for which a certain route was prescribed, and which was always to be accompanied by the permit. The miller was not even allowed to keep the key of his own mill, and was prohibited from grinding corn between sunset and sunrise. The wants of the population, however, sometimes made it necessary to relax this rule; and in such cases the miller (whose family was never to remain in the mill with him) was securely locked and barred in for the night, without any means of communicating with the outer world, whatever might happen. This treatment, however, was at length seen to be cruel; and permission was granted to any miller exposed to imminent peril from fire, flood, or other calamity, to free himself from nocturnal incarceration by breaking (if he could) through the door, window, or roof. It does not seem to have been foreseen, Mr Herries aptly remarks, that such a gracious concession might be rendered nugatory by the strength of the barriers or the feebleness of the miller!

Up to 1842, the millers themselves were considered as responsible fiscal agents; but after that time, the supervision of every mill was intrusted to an official called a 'weigher' (custode pesatore); but not being usually a very faithful guardian, bribery soon became rampant. In the Ecclesiastical State, where the tax was farmed out to contractors, the mode of its exaction was in many respects similar to that existing in Sicily. By an edict of 1801, which deserves notice as a legislative curiosity, a miller was liable to be sent to the galleys, besides paying a heavy fine, for a variety of offences—such as that of grinding corn not regularly consigned to him in the manner prescribed; of receiving corn or sending out flour at night; and others of similar enormity. In the district of the Agro Romano, all bread had to be stamped; and the absence of the proper stamp exposed the guilty baker to a fine of one hundred scudi and corporal punishment, or even to slavery in the galleys. The inhabitants of this district were only allowed to use bread baked within it, and they might be compelled to declare where they got their bread.

Though the tax was temporarily abolished in its last strongholds in the year 1860, it was subsequently revived, until all the statutes relating to the subject were finally consolidated in 1874. The tax, which must now be paid to the miller at the time of grinding, is charged at the rate of two lire (of about tenpence each) per hundred kilograms on wheat; and one lira on maize, rye, oats, and barley. The miller pays periodically to the collector of taxes a corresponding fixed charge for every hundred revolutions of the millstone, to be ascertained by an instrument called contatore, which is affixed to the shaft at the cost of the government. The amount of this charge is determined for every mill according to the quality and force of the machinery and the mode of grinding. The miller may refuse the rate as first calculated; in which case the revenue authorities have the power to employ an instrument which will record the weight or volume of the corn ground; or of collecting the tax directly by their own officers, or of farming the tax. Should they not think fit to exercise such powers, the rate is determined by experts. The impost, it is perhaps hardly necessary to say, is an eminently unpopular one, and was only consented to under the pressure of extreme necessity.

The great difficulty in the way of the smooth working of the grist-tax was the impossibility of procuring the mechanical means of control contemplated by the law; and in point of fact, when it came into operation no effective instrument was in existence. By the end of August 1871, however, matters had changed, and no fewer than 78,250 registering instruments were supplied, and by 1874 the greater number of these contatori were in active operation. The contatore, however, does not give universal satisfaction; and Mr Herries thinks that what is wanted to remove doubts as to fair treatment, is some instrument capable of recording the weight or the quantity of wheat ground. Best of all would be the abolition of the grist-tax; but in a country where the mass of the people consume no articles of luxury which can be taxed by revenue officers, and also from whom no direct impost could be exacted, the continuation of the grist-tax seems to be an absolute necessity.

[SWEET LOVE AND I.]

Sweet Love and I have strangers been
These many years,
So many years.
He came to me when Life was green
And free from fears,
These present fears.

He came, and for a little space
My life was gladdened by his grace;
But soon he fled, and joy gave place
To grief and tears.

'O Love, come to me once again!'
My lone heart sighs,
So sadly sighs.
'Recall thy fearless nature, then,
Sweet Love replies,
Softly replies.

'Thou canst not? Then I cannot be
The same that once I was to thee.
There's no room in the heart for me,
Where fears arise.'

A. C. S.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.