The Strand 1912-5 Vol-XLIII № 257 May mich

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Because he is not a fraud at all.\" \" What ! \" roared McArdle. \" You don't mean to say you really believe this stuff of his about mammoths and mastodons and great sea sairpents ? \" \" Well, I don't know about that. I don't think he makes any claims of that kind. But I do believe he has got something new.\" \" Then for Heaven's sake, man, write it up !\" \" I'm longing to, but all I know he gave me in confidence and on condition that I didn't.\" I condensed into a few sentences tht Professor's narrative. \" That's how it stands.\" McArdle looked deeply incredulous. \" Well, Mr. Malone,\" he said at last. \" about this scientific meeting to-night; there can be no privacy about that, anyhow. I don't suppose any paper will want to report it, for Waldron has been reported already a dozen times, and no one is aware that Chal lenger will speak. We may get a scoop, if we are lucky. You'll be there in any case, so you'll just give us a pretty full report. I'll keep space up to midnight.\" My day was a busy one, and I had an early dinner at the Savage Club with Tarp Henry, to whom I gave some account of my adven tures. He listened with a sceptical smile on his gaunt face, and roared with laughter on hearing that the Professor had convinced me. \" My dear chap, things don't happen like that in real life. People don't stumble upon enormous discoveries and then lose their evidence. Leave that to the novelists. The fellow is as full of tricks as the monkey-house at the Zoo. It's all absolute bosh.\" \" But the American poet ? \" \" He never existed.\" \" I saw his sketch-book.\" \" Challenger's sketch-book.\" \" You think he drew that animal ? \" \" Of course he did. Who else ? \" \" Well, then, the photographs ? \" \" There was nothing in the photographs. By your own admission you only saw a bird.\" \" A pterodactyl.\" \" That's what he says. He put the pterodactyl into your head.\" \" Well, then, the bones ? \" \" First one out of an Irish stew. Second one vamped up for the occasion. If you are clever and know your business you can fake a bone as easily as you can a photograph.\" I began to feel uneasy. Perhaps, after all, I had been premature in my acquiescence. Then I had a sudden happy thought, \" Will you come with me to the meeting ? \" I asked. Tarp Henry looked thoughtful. \" He is not a popular person, the genial Challenger,\" said he. \" A lot of people have accounts to settle with him. I should say he is about the best-hated man in London. If the medical students turn out there will be no end of a rag. I don't want to get into a bear-garden.\"

THE LOST WORLD. 485 abroad that the famous Professor would take part in the proceedings. There was some sympathetic laughter on his entrance among the front benches of well-dressed spectators, as though the demon stration of the students in this instance was not unwelcome to them. Their greeting was, indeed, a frightful outburst of sound, the uproar of the carnivora cage when the step of the bucket-bearing keeper is heard in the distance. There was an offensive tone in it, perhaps, and yet in the main it struck me as mere riotous outcry, the noisy reception of one who amused and interested them, rather than of one they disliked or despised. Challenger smiled with weary and tolerant contempt, as a kindly man would meet the yapping of a litter of puppies. He sat slowly down, blew out his chest, passed his hand caressingly down his beard, and looked with drooping eyelids and supercilious eyes at the crowded hall before him. The uproar of his advent had not yet died away when Professor Ronald Murray, the chairman, and Mr. Waldron, the lecturer, threaded their way to the front, and the proceedings began. Professor Murray will, I am sure, excuse me if I say that he has the common fault of most Englishmen of being inaudible. Why on earth people who have something to say which is worth hearing should not take the slight trouble to learn how to make it heard is one of the strange mysteries of modern life. Their methods are as reasonable as to try to pour some precious stuff from the spring to the reservoir through a non-conducting pipe, which could by the least effort be opened. Professor Murray made several profound remarks to his white tie and to the water- carafe upon the table, with a humorous, twinkling aside to the silver candlestick upon his right. Then he sat down, and Mr. Waldron, the famous popular lecturer, rose amid a general murmur of applause. He was a stern, gaunt man, with a harsh voice and an aggressive manner, but he had the merit of knowing how to assimilate the ideas of other men, and to pass them on in a way which was intelligible and even interesting to the lay public, with a happy knack of being funny about the most unlikely objects, so that the precession of the Equinox or the formation of a vertebrate became a highly humorous process as treated by him. It was a bird's-eye view of creation, as interpreted by science, which, in language always clear and sometimes picturesque, he unfolded before us. He told us of the globe, a huge mass of flaming gas, flaring through the heavens. Then he pictured the solidifi cation, the cooling, the wrinkling which formed the mountains, the steam which turned to water, the slow preparation of the stage upon which was to be played the inexplicable drama of life. On the origin of life itself he was discreetly vague. That the germs of it could hardly have survived the original roasting was, he declared, fairly certain.

486 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. lay upon their margins, the overcrowded lagoons, the tendency of the sea creatures to take refuge upon the mud-flats, the abun dance of food awaiting them, their consequent enormous growth. \" Hence, ladies and gen tlemen,\" he added, \" that frightful brood of saurians which still affright our eyes when seen in the Wealden or in the Solenhofen slates, but which were fortunately extinct long before the first appearance of mankind upon this planet.\" \" Question ! \" boomed a voice from the platform. Mr. Waldron was a strict disciplinarian with a gift of acid humour, as exemplified upon the gentleman with the red tie, which made it perilous to interrupt him. But this interjection appeared to him so absurd that he was at a loss how to deal with it. So looks the Shakespearean who is confronted by a rancid Baconian, or the astronomer who is assailed by a flat-earth fanatic. He paused for a moment, and then, raising his voice, repeated slowly the words : \" Which were extinct before the coming of man.\" \" Question ! \" boomed the voice once more. Waldron looked with amazement along the line of professors upon the platform until his eyes fell upon the figure of Challenger, who leaned back in his chair with closed eyes and an amused expression, as if he were smiling in his sleep. \" I see ! '' said Waldron, with a shrug. \" It is my friend Professor Challenger,\" and amid laughter he renewed his lecture as if this was a final explanation and no more need be said. But the incident was far from being closed. Whatever path the lecturer took amid the wilds of the past seemed invariably to lead him to some assertion as to extinct or pre historic life which instantly brought the same bull's bellow from the Professor. The audi ence began to anticipate it and to roar with delight when it came. The packed benches of students joined in, and every time Chal lenger's beard opened, before an> sound could come forth, there was a yell of \" Question ! \" from a hundred voices, and an answering counter cry of \" Order ! \" and \" Shame ! \" from as many more. Waldron, though a hardened lecturer and a strong man, became rattled. He hesitated, stammered, repeated himself, got snarled in a long sentence, and finally turned furiously upon the cause of his troubles. \" This is really intolerable ! \" he cried, glaring across the platform. \" I must ask you, Professor Challenger, to cease these ignorant and unmannerly interruptions.\" There was a hush over the hall, the students rigid with delight at seeing the high gods on Olympus quarrelling among themselves. Challenger levered his bulky figure slowly out of his chair. \" I must in turn ask you, Mr. Waldron,\" he said, \" to cease to make assertions which are not in strict accordance with scientific fact.\"

THE LOST WORLD. 487 superficial and misleading, since they have to be graded to the comprehension of an ignorant audience.\" (Ironical cheering.) \" Popular lecturers are in their nature para sitic.\" (Angry gesture of protest from Mr. VValdron.) \" They exploit for fame or cash the work which has been done by their indigent and unknown brethren. One smallest new fact obtained in the laboratory, one brick built into the temple of science, far outweighs any second-hand exposition which passes an E. D. M..!. • i.•. \" Daily G.i7-He.\" manence whose scientific conscience compels him to adhere closely to facts, when I say that Mr. Waldron is very wrong in supposing that because he has never himself seen a so-called prehistoric animal, therefore these creatures no longer exist. They are indeed, as he has said, our ancestors, but they are, if I may use the expression, our contemporary ancestors, who can still be found with all their hideous and formidable characteristics if one has but the energy and hardihood to seek Prof. Summerlee, F.R.S. Prof. G. E. Challenger, F.R.S., F.R.G.S. THE MEMBERS OF THE EXPLORING PARTY. Frvm a Photograph by Wiiliam Rtmnford. idle hour, but can leave no useful result behind it. I put forward this obvious reflection, not out of any desire to disparage Mr. Waldron in particular, but that you may not lose your sense of proportion and mistake the acolyte for the high priest.\" (At this point Mr. Waldron whispered to the chairman, who half rose and said something severely to his water-carafe.) \" But enough of this ! \" (Loud and prolonged cheers.) \" Let me pass to some subject of wider interest. What is the particular point upon which I, as an original investigator, have challenged our lecturer's accuracy ? It is upon the per- of certain is types of not animal life upon the earth. I do not speak upon this subject as an amateur, nor, I may add, as a popular lecturer, but 1 speak as one Lord John Roxton. their haunts. Creatures which were supposed to be Jurassic, monsters who would hunt down and devour our largest and fiercest mammals, still exist.\" (Cries of \" Bosh ! \" \" Prove it!\" \" How do you know ? \" \" Question ! \") \" How do I know, you ask me ? I know because I have visited their secret haunts. I know because I have seen some of them.\" (Applause, uproar, and a voice, \" Liar ! \") \" Am I a liar ? \" (General hearty and noisy assent.) \" Did I hear some one say that 1 was a liar ? Will the person who called me a liar kindly stand up that I may know him ? \" (A voice, \" Here he is, sir!\" and an inoffensive little person in spectacles, struggling violently, was held up among a group of students.) \" Did you venture to call me a \\\\ax ? \" (\" No, sir, no ! \"

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. shouted the accused, and disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box.) \" If any person in this hall dares to doubt my veracity, I shall be glad to have a few words with him after the lecture.\" (\"Liar!\") \"Who said that?\" (Again the inoffensive one, plunging despe rately, was elevated high into the air.) \" If I come down among you \" (General chorus of \" Come, love, come!\" which interrupted the proceedings for some moments, while the chairman, standing up and waving both his arms, seemed to be conducting the music. The Professor, with his face flushed, his nostrils dilated, and his beard bristling, was now in a proper Berserk mood.) \" Every great discoverer has been met with the same incredulity—the sure brand of a generation of fools. When great facts are laid before you, you have not the intuition, the imagination which would help you to understand them. You can only throw mud at the men who have risked their lives to open new fields to science. You persecute the prophets ! Galileo, Darwin, and I \" (Prolonged cheering and com plete interruption.) All this is from my hurried notes taken at the time, which give little notion of the abso lute chaos to which the assembly had by this time been reduced. So terrific was the uproar that several ladies had already beat en a hurried retreat. Grave and reverend seniors seemed to have caught the prevailing spirit as badly as the students, and I saw white-bearded men rising and shaking their fists at the obdurate Professor. The whole great audience seethed and simmered like a boiling pot. The Pro fessor took a step forward and raised both his hands. There was something so big and arresting and virile in the man that the clatter and shouting died gradually away before his commanding gesture and his masterful eyes. He seemed to have a definite message. They hushed to hear it. \" I will not detain you,\" he said. \" It is not worth it. Truth is truth, and the noise of a number of foolish young men—and, I fear I must add, of their equally foolish seniors—cannot affect the matter. I claim that I have opened a new field of science. You dispute it.\" (Cheers.) \" Then I put you to the test. Will you accredit one or more of your own number to go out as your repre sentatives and test my statement in your name ? \" Mr. Summerlee, the veteran Professor of Comparative Anatomy, rose among the audience, a tall, thin, bitter man, with the withered aspect of a theologian. He wished, he said, to ask Professor Challenger whether the results to which he had alluded in his remarks had been obtained during a journey to the head-waters of the Amazon made by him two years before. Professor Challenger answered that they had. Mr. Summerlee desired to know how it was that Professor Challenger claimed to have made discoveries in those regions which had been overlooked by Wallace, Bates, and other

THE LOST WORLD. 489 Tarp Henry/ my companion, was plucking at my skirts and I heard him whispering, \" Sit down, Malone ! Don't make a public ass of yourself.\" At the same time I was aware that a tall, thin man, with dark gingery hair, a few seats in front of me, was also upon his feet. He glared back at me with hard, angry eyes, but I refused to give way. \" I will go, Mr. Chairman,\" I kept repeat ing over and over again. \" Name ! Name ! \" cried the audience. \" My name is Edward Dunn Malone. I am the reporter of the Daily Gazette. I claim to be an absolutely unprejudiced witness.\" \" What is your name, sir ? \" the chairman asked of my tall rival. \" I am Lord John Roxton. I have already- been up the Amazon, I know all the ground, and have special qualifications for this investigation.\" \" Lord John Roxton's reputation as a sportsman and a traveller is, of course, world- famous.\" said the chairman ; \" at the same time it would certainly be as well to have a member of the Press upon such an expedition.\" \" Then I move,\" said Professor Challenger, \" that both these gentlemen be elected, as representatives of this meeting, to accompany Professor Summerlee upon his journey to investigate and to report upon the truth of my statements.\" And so, amid shouting and cheering, our fate was decided, and I found myself borne away in the human current which swirled towards the door, with my mind half stunned by the vast new project which had risen so suddenly before it. As I emerged from the hall I was conscious for a moment of a rush of laughing students down the pavement, and of an arm wielding a heavy umbrella, which rose and fell in the midst of them. Then, amid a mixture of groans and cheers, Pro fessor Challenger's electric brougham slid from the kerb, and I found myself walking under the silvery lights of Regent Street, full of thoughts of Gladys and of wonder as to my future. Suddenly there was a touch at my elbow. I turned, and found myself looking into the humorous, masterful eyes of the tall, thin man who had volunteered to be my companion on this strange quest. \" Mr. Malone, I understand,\" said he. \" We are to be companions—what ? My rooms are just over the road, in the Albany. Per haps you would have the kindness to spare me half an hour, for there are one or two things that I badly want to say to you.\" CHAPTER VI. \" I WAS THE FLAIL OF THE LORD.\" LORD JOHN ROXTON and I turned down Vigo Street together and through the dingy portals of the famous aristocratic rookery. At the end of a long drab passage my new acquaintance pushed open a door and turned on an electric switch. A number of lamps shining through tinted shades bathed the

49° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. graphs—the strongly-curved nose, the hollow, worn cheeks, the dark, ruddy hair, thin at the top, the crisp, virile moustaches, the small, aggressive tuft upon his projecting chin. Something there was of Napoleon III., something of Don Quixote, and vet again something which was the essence of the English country gentleman, the keen, alert, open-air lover of dogs and of horses. His skin was of a rich flower-pot red from sun and wind. His eyebrows were tufted and overhanging, which gave those naturarlly cold eyes an almost ferocious aspect, an impression which was increased by his strong and fur rowed brow. In figure he was spare, but very strongly built—indeed, he had often proved that there were few men in England capable of such sustained exertions. His height was a little over six feet, but he seemed shorter on account of a peculiar rounding of the shoulders. Such was the famous Lord John Roxton as he sat opposite to me, biting hard upon his cigar and watching me steadily in a long and embarrassing silence. \" Well,\" said he, at last, \" we've gone and done it, young fellah my lad.\" (This curious phrase he pronounced as if it were all one word—\" young-fellah-me-lad.\") \"Yes, we've taken a jump, you an' me. I suppose, now, when you went into that room there was no such notion in your head—what ? \" \" No thought of it.\" \" The same here. No thought of it. And here we are, up to our necks in the tureen. Why, I've only been back three weeks from Uganda, and taken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all. Pretty goin's on— what ? How does it hit you ? \" \" Well, it is all in the main line of my business. I am a journalist on the Gazette.\" \" Of course—you said so when you took it on. By the way, I've got a small job for you, if you'll help me.\" \" With pleasure.\" \" Don't mind takin' a risk, do you ? \" \" What is the risk ? \" \" Well, it's Ballinger—he's the risk. You've heard of him ? \" \" No.\" \" Why, young fellah, where have you lived ? Sir John Ballinger is the best gentleman jock in the north country. I could hold him on the flat at my best, but over jumps he's my master. Well, it's an open secret that when he's out of trainin' he drinks hard—strikin' an average, he calls it. He got delirium on Toosday, and has been ragin' like a devil ever since. His room is above this. The jjoctors say that it is all up with the old dear unless some food is got into ftim. but as he lies in bed with a revolver on his coverlet, and swears he will put six of the best through any one that comes near him, there's been a bit of a strike among the serving-men. He's a hard nail, is Jack, and a dead shot, too, but you can't leave a Grand National winner to die like that—what ? \" \" What do you mean to do, then ? \" I

THE LOST WORLD. lee man will want dry-nursin' from the first. By the way, are you by any chance the Malone who is expected to get his Rugby cap for Ireland ? \" \" A reserve, perhaps.\" \" I thought I remembered your face. Why, I was there when you got that try against Richmond—as fine a swervin' run as I saw the whole season. I never miss a Rugby match if I can help it, for it is the manliest game we have left. Well, I didn't ask you in here just to talk sport. We've got to fix our business. Here are the sailin's, on the first page of the Times. There's a Booth boat for Para next Wednesday week, and if the Professor and you can work it, I think we should take it—what ? Very good, I'll fix it with him. What about your outfit ? \" \" My paper will see to that.\" \" Can you shoot ? \" \" About average Territorial standard.\" \" Good Lord ! as bad as that ? It's the last thing you young fellahs think of learnin'. You're all bees without stings, so far as lookin' after the hive goes. You'll look silly some o' these days, when someone comes along an' sneaks the honey. But you'll need to hold your gun straight in South America, 'ONK BY ONK HE TOOK OUT A SUCCESSION OF BEAUTIFUL RIFI.KS, OI'KNING AND SHUTTING TIIKM \\V|TH A. SNAP ANP A C(,ANQ.\"

492 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. for, unless our friend the Professor is a mad man or a liar, we may see .some queer things before we get back. What gun have you ? \" He crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I caught a glimpse of glisten ing rows of parallel barrels, like the pipes of an organ. \" I'll see what I can spare you out of my own battery,\" said he. One by one he took out a succession of beautiful rifles, opening and shutting them with a snap and a clang, and then patting them as he put them back into the rack as tenderly as a mother would fondle her children. \" This is a Eland's -577 axite express,\" said he. \" I got that big fellow with it.\" He glanced up at the white rhinoceros. \" Ten more yards, and he'd have added me to his collection. On that conical bullet his one chance hangs, 'Tis the weak one's advantage fair. Hope you know your Gordon, for he's the poet of the horse and the gun and the man that handles both. Now, here's a useful tool— •470, telescopic sight, double ejector, point- blank up to three-fifty. That's the rifle I used against the Peruvian slave-drivers three years ago. I was the flail of the Lord up in those parts, I may tell you, though you won't find it in any Blue-book. There are times, young fellah, when every one of us must make a stand for human right and justice, or you never feel clean again. That's why I made a little war on my own. Declared it myself, waged it myself, ended it myself. Each of those nicks is for a slave murderer—a good row of them—what ? That big one is for Pedro Lopez, the king of them all, that I killed in a backwater of the Putomayo River. Now, here's something that would do for you.\" He took out a\" beautiful brown-and-silver rifle. \" Well rubbered at the stock, sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip. You can trust your life to that.\" He handed it tome and closed the door of his oak cabinet. \" By the way,\" he continued, coming back to his chair, \" what do you know of this Professor Challenger ? \" \" I never saw him till to-day.\" \" Well, neither did I. It's funny we should both sail under sealed orders from a man we don't know. He seemed an uppish old bird. His brothers of science don't seem too fond of him, either. How came you to take an interest in the affair ? \" I told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listened intently. Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it pn the table. \" I believe every single word he said to you was the truth,\" said he, earnestly, \" and. mind you, I have something to go on when I speak like that. South America is a place I love, and I think, if you take it right through from Darien to Fuego, it's the grandest, richest, most wonderful bit of earth upon this planet. People don't know it yet, and don't realize what it may become. I've been up

THE LOST WORLD. 493 speech and of thought. It was only the need of getting in the account of my meeting which drew me at last from his company. I left him seated amid his pink radiance, oiling the lock of his favourite rifle, while he still chuckled to himself at the thought of the adventures which awaited us. It was very clear to me that if dangers lay before us I notice of Sir George Beaumont, the chief. It was agreed that I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of successive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited for the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later, according to the wishes of Professor Chal lenger, since we could not yet know what \"THREE SHINING MACKINTOSHED FIGURES ARE WALKING DOWN THE QUAY, MAKING FOR THE GANG-I'I.ANK OF THE GREAT I.INER.\" could not in all England have found a cooler head or a braver spirit with which to share them. That night, wearied as I was after the won derful happenings of the day, I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole situation, which he thought import ant enough to bring next morning before the conditions he might attach to those direc tions which should guide us to the unknown land. In response to a telephone inquiry, we received nothing more definite than a fulmination against the Press, ending up with the remark that if we would notify our boat he would hand us any directions which he might think it proper to give us at the

494 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. moment of starting. A second question from us failed to elicit any answer at all, save a plaintive bleat from his wife to the effect that her husband was in a very violent temper already, and that she hoped we would do nothing to make it worse. A third attempt, later in the day, provoked a terrific crash, and a subsequent message from the Central Exchange t hat Professor Challenger's re ceiver had been shattered. After that we abandoned all attempt at com munication. And now, my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. From now onwards (if, indeed, any continuation of this narrative should ever reach you) it can only be through the paper which I represent. In the hands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have led up to one of the most re markable expedi tions of all time, so that if I never return to England there shall be some record as to how the affair came about. I am writing these last lines in the saloon of the Booth liner Francisca, and they will go back by the pilot to the keeping of Mr. McArdle. Let me draw one last pic ture before I close the notebook — a picture which is the last memory of the old country which I bear away with me. It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a thin, cold rain is falling. Three shining mackin- toshed figures are walking down the quay, making for the gang-plank of the great liner from which the blue-peter is flying. In front of them a porter pushes a trolly piled HE RUNS AFTER IIS, A IKASCIHLK high with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. Professor Summerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with dragging steps and drooping head, as one who is already profoundly sorry for himself. Lord Roxton steps briskly, and his thin, eager face beams forth between his hunting-cap and his muffler As for myself,

THL-: LOST WORLD 495 the outside. Have I made myself clear ? I leave the strict observance of my conditions entirely to your honour. No, Mr. Malone, I will place no restriction upon your corre spondence, since the ventilation of the facts is the object of your journey; but I demand that you shall give no particulars as to your exact destination, and that nothing be actually published until your return. Good-bye, sir. You have done something to mitigate my feelings for the loathsome profession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord Roxlon. Science is, as I understand, a sealed book to you ; but you may congratulate your self upon the hunting-field which awaits you. You will, no doubt, have the opportunity of describing in the Field how you brought down the rocketing dimorphodon. And good-bye to you also, Professor Summerlee. If you arc still capable of self-improvement, of which I am frankly unconvinced, you will surely return to London a wiser man.\" So he turned upon his heel, and a minute la'.er from the deck I could see his short, squat figure bobbing about in the distance as he made his way back to his train. Well, we arc well down Channel now. There's the last bell for letters, and it's good-bye to the pilot. We'll be \" down, hull-down, on the old trail \" from now on. God bless all we leave behind us, and send us safely back. CHAPTER VII. \"TO-MORROW WE DISAPPEAR INTO TIIF UNKNOWN.\" I WILL not bore those whom this narrative may reach by an account of our luxurious voyage upon the Booth liner, nor will I tell of our week's stay at Para (save that I should wish to acknowledge the great kind ness of the Pereira da Pinta Company in helping us to get together our equipment). 1 will also allude very briefly to our river journey, up a wide, slow-moving, clay-tinted stream, in a steamer which was little smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic. Eventually we found ourselves through the narrows of Obidos and reached the town of Manaos. Here we were rescued from the limited attractions of the local inn by Mr. Shortman, the representative of the British and Brazilian Trading Company. In his hospitable hacienda we spent our time until the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions given to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprising events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my comrades in this enterprise, and of the associates whom we had already gathered together in South America. I speak freely, and I leave the use of my material to your own discretion, ^fr. McArdle. since it is through your hands that this report must pass before it reaches the world. The scientific attainments of Professor Summerlee are too well known for me to trouble to recapitulate them. He is better equipped for a rough expedition of this sort

496 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \"PROFESSOR SUMMERLEE.\" is exceedingly neat and prim in his ways, dresses always with great care in white drill suits and high brown mosquito-boots, and shaves at least once a day. Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech, and sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick to answer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a queer, jerky, half-humorous fashion. His knowledge of the world, and very especially of South America, is surprising, and he has a whole hearted belief in the possibilities of our journey which is not to be dashed by the sneers of Professor Summerlee. He has a gentle voice and a quiet manner, but behind his twinkling blue eyes there lurks a capacity for furious wrath and implacable resolution, the more dangerous because they are held in leash. He spoke little of his own exploits in Brazil and Peru, but it was a revelation to me to find the excitement which was caused by his presence among the riverine natives, who looked upon him as their champion and pro tector. The exploits of the Red Chief, as they called him, had be come legends among them, but the real facts, as far as I could learn them, were amazing enough. These were that Lord John had found himself some years before in that no-man's-land which is formed by the half-defined frontiers between Peru, Brazil, and Colombia. In this great district the wild rubber tree flourishes, and has become, as in the Congo, a curse to the natives which can only be compared to their forced labour under the Spaniards upon the old silver mines of Darien. A handful of villainous half-breeds dominated the country, armed such Indians as would sup port them, and turned the rest into slaves, terrorizing them with the most inhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india- rubber, which was then floated down the river to Para. Lord John Roxton expostulated on behalf of the wretched victims, and received nothing but threats and insults for his pains. He then formally declared war against Pedro Lopez, the leader of the slave - drivers, enrolled a band of runaway slaves in his service, armed them, and conducted a campaign, which ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breed and breaking down the system which he represented. No wonder that the ginger-headed man with the silky voice and the free and easy manners was now looked upon with deep interest upon the banks of the great South American river, though the feelings he inspired were naturally mixed, since the gratitude of the natives was

THE LOST WORLD. 497 reproduce the glamour of his dis courses, the peculiar mixture of accurate knowledge and of racy imagination which gave them their fascination, until even the Pro fessor's cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from his thin face as he listened. He would tell the history of the mighty river so rapidly explored (for some of the first conquerors of Peru actu ally crossed the entire continent upon its waters), and yet so un known in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks. \" What is there ? \" he would cry, pointing to the north. \" Wood and marsh and unpenetrated jungle. Who knows what it may shelter ? What ? And there to the south ? A wilderness of swampy forest, where no white man has ever been. The unknown is up against us on every side. Outside the narrow lines of the rivers what does any one know ? Who will say what is possible in such a country ? Why should old man Challenger not be right ? \" At which direct defiance the stubborn sneer would reappear upon Professor Summerlee's face, and he would sit, shaking his sardonic head in unsympathetic silence, behind the cloud of his briar-root pipe. So much for the moment for my two white companions, whose charac ters and limitations will be further exposed, as surely as my own, as this narrative proceeds. But already we have enrolled certain- retainers who may play no small part in what is to come. The first is a gigantic negro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse, and about as intelligent. Him we enlisted at Para, on the recommendation of the steamship company, ort whose vessels he had learned to speak a halting English. It was at Para also that we engaged Gomez and Manuel, two half-breeds from up the river, just come down with a cargo of redwood. They were swarthy fellows, bearded and fierce, as active and wiry as panthers. Both of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazon which we were about to explore, and it was this recommendation which had caused Lord John to engage them. One of them, Gomez, had the further advan tage that he could speak excellent English. Vol. xliii-34. 1 LORD JOHN ROXTON. These men were willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or to make themselves useful in any way at a pay ment of fifteen dollars a month. Besides these, we had engaged three Mojo Indians from Bolivia, who are the most skilful at fishing and boat v/ork of all the river tribes.

498 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. palm trees as black and definite as the trees themselves. The air was calm, full of the eternal hum of insects, a tropical chorus of many octaves, from the deep drone of the bee to the high, keen pipe of the mosquito. Beyond the veranda was a small cleared garden, bounded with cactus hedges and adorned with clumps of flowering shrubs, round which the great blue butterflies and the tiny humming birds fluttered and darted in crescents of sparkling light. Within we were seated round the cane table, on which lay a sealed envelope. Inscribed upon it, in the jagged handwriting of Professor Challenger,, were the words :— \" Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party. To be opened at Manaos upon July 151(1, at 12 o'clock precisely.\" Lord Roxton had placed his watch upon the table beside him. \" We have seven more minutes,\" said he. \" The old dear is very precise.\" Professor Summerlee gave an acid smile as he picked up the envelope in his gaunt hand. \" What can it possibly matter whether we open it now or in seven minutes ? \" said he. \" It is all part and parcel of the same system of quackery and nonsense, for which I regret to say that the writer is notorious.\" \" Oh, come, we must play the game accordin' to rules,\" said Lord Roxton. \"It's old man Challenger's show and we are here by his good will, so it would be rotten bad form if we. .didn't follow his instructions to the letter.\" \" A pretty business it is ! \" cried the Pro fessor, bitterly. \" It struck me as pre posterous in Kensington, but I'm bound to say that it seems even more so upon closer acquaintance. I don't know what is ins'ide this envelope, but, unless it is something pretty definite, I shall be much tempted to take the next down-river boat and catch the Bolivia at Para. After all, I have some more responsible work in the world than to run about disproving the assertions of a lunatic. Now, Roxton, surely it is time.\" \" Time it is,\" said Lord John. \" You can blow the whistle.\" He took up the envelope and cut it with his penknife. From it he drew a folded sheet of paper. This he care fully opened out and flattened on the table. It was a blank sheet. He turned it over. Again it was blank. We looked at each other in a bewildered silence, which was broken by a discordant burst of derisive laughter from Professor Summerlee. \" It is an open admission,\" he cried. \" What more do you want ? The fellow is a self-confessed humbug. We have only to return home and report him as the brazen impostor that he is.\" \" Invisible ink ! \" I suggested. \" I don't think ! \" said Lord Roxton, hold ing the paper to the light. \" No, young fellah my Ir.d, there is no use deceiving your self. I'll go bail for it that nothing has ever been written upon this paper.\"

THE LOST WORLD. 499 you all my intentions, I should have been forced to resist unwelcome pressure to travel out with you.\" \" Not from me, sir ! \" exclaimed Professor Summcrlee, heartily. \" So long as there was another ship upon the Atlantic.\" has now arrived. You are in safe hands. You will not now fail to reach your destina tion. From henceforth I take command of this expedition, and I must ask you to com plete your preparations to-night, so that we may be able to make an early start in the \"'MAY i COME IN?\" BOOMED A VOICE FROM THE VERANDA. Challenger waved him away with his great hairy hand. \" Your common sense will, I am sure, sustain my objection and realize that it was better that I should direct my own move ments and appear only at the exact moment when my presence was needed. That moment morning. My time is of value, and the same thing may be said, no doubt, in a lesser degree of your own. I propose, therefore, that we push on as rapidly as possible, until I have demonstrated what you have come to see.\" Lord John Roxton had chartered a large

5°° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. steam-launch, the Esmeralda, which was to carry us up the river. So far as climate goes, it was immaterial what time we chose for our expedition, as the temperature ranges from seventy-five to ninety degrees both summer and winter, with no appreciable difference in heat. In moisture, however, it is other wise ; from December to May is the period of the rains, and during this time the river slowly rises until it attains a height of nearly forty feet above its low-water mark. It floods the banks, extends in great lagoons over a monstrous waste of country, and forms a huge district, called locally the Gapo, which is for the most part too marshy for foot-travel and too shallow for boating. About June the waters begin to fall, and are at their lowest at October or November. Thus our expedition was at the time of the dry season, when the great river and its tributaries were more or less in a normal condition. The current of the river is a slight one, the drop being not greater than eight inches in a mile. No stream could be more con venient for navigation, since the prevailing wind is south-east, and sailing-boats may make a continuous progress to the Peruvian frontier, dropping down again with the cur rent. In our own case the excellent engines of the Esmeralda could disregard the sluggish flow of the stream, and we made as rapid progress as if we were navigating a stagnant lake. For three days we steamed north westwards up a stream which even here, a thousand miles from its mouth, was still so enormous that from its centre the two banks were mere shadows upon the distant skyline. On the fourth day after leaving Manaos we turned into a tributary which at its mouth was little smaller than the main stream. It narrowed rapidly, however, and after two more days' steaming we reached an Indian village, where the Professor insisted that we should land, and that the Esmeralda should be sent back to Manaos. We should soon come upon rapids, he explained, which would make its further use impossible. H? added privately that we were now approaching the door of the unknown country, and that the fewer whom we took into our confidence the better it would be. To this end also he made each of us give our word of honour that we would publish or say nothing which would give any exact clue as to the whereabouts of our travels, while the servants were all solemnly sworn to the same effect. It is for this reason that I am compelled to be vague in my narrative, and I would warn my readers that in any map or diagram which I may give the relation of places to each other may be correct, but the points of the compass are carefully confused, so that in no way can it be taken as an actual guide to the country. Professor Challenger's reasons for secrecy may be valid or not, but we had no choice but to adopt them, for he was prepared to abandon the whole expedition rather than modify the

usy Men \\Vork. A Symposium or Eminent Successful Men. [It was our desire in applying to a number of representative business men to ascertain their daily rules and routine as a key to their commercial success. The writers have not altogether restricted themselves to this subject, but the letters are so interesting that we print them herewith.] AVE rules and routine dis appeared from business life ? There was a period when the time schedule ruled both young and old in shop and office ; when the successful man of affairs rose at seven, breakfasted at eight, was at his office at nine, dictated letters until ten, and so on, until five or six o'clock daily throughout the year. Now the rules and routine have ap parently gone. MR. ROCKKFELLER. . bit Topical. It is true there are still some who hold fast to the gospel of details—and of these is Mr. Rockefeller, whose message for publication in THE STRAND MAGAZINE is thus stated :— \" I confess that I attach great importance to routine. I believe that every young man who intends to succeed in business should do as I did—take a course at a commercial college. I do not believe in what is called ' the rule of thumb '; the rudiments of business should be properly taught, and the ground prepared to build upon. If a youth has had no thorough . grounding, a time may come when his weak ness for detail will show itself. \" When people write to me asking for the secret of my success, I always tell them that I owe everything to a love for, and mastery of, details. A man playing chess or billiards or golf must attend to details if he wants to win —why must he not do so in business ? Everyone ought to be able to keep his own books and know exactly to a penny how the money comes in and how it goes out. I have known many bright, intelligent men who never really knew all the facts about their own affairs. They did not actually know when they were making money on a certain operation and when they were losing. Such business men live in a fool's paradise : they hate to .study their books and face the truth. They are often brilliant at a single great stroke, but they cannot keep up the game, simply because they are weak in detail, and they are weak in detail because they have never studied its principles.\" \" Amongst the first essentials to success, in my opinion,\" states the veteran Lord Strath- cona, \" is that of being interested in what you have to do. After that comes diligence, and then system. But unless a young man is interested, first of all. in his work, he cannot expect to succeed in it. I would therefore

502 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. of' recreation ' in which young men nowadays indulge. Even to-day, in my ninety-second year, I am ready for work at half-past eight every morning, and my correspondence, official engagements, personal interviews, generally keep me employed until late at night. By this kind of alternation of duties, and also by never allowing myself to be hurried over anything, I obtain all the recrea tion I need. Hurry and bustle I have always endeavoured to avoid.\" \" I must say,\" declares Sir Herbert Tree, \" that I have no system, no routine, and very little relaxation in my methods. Some men plan their campaigns slowly and painfully, according to prece dent, and I have no doubt that such a method of conquering Fortune is better than my mode of rapid assault. But each man to his temperament: I work, as it were, from hand to mouth.\" SIR HERBERT TREE. PAoto. i>» O. Va«d]/lc. \" No two merchants,\" writes Sir Thomas Dewar, \" ever conducted a business in the same manner; no two workmen in the mechanical world ever performed their labour in precisely the same way; no two artists ever painted the same scene so that it seemed like one picture. Each human being has his own peculiar characteristics, which go into his work, no matter what that work may be. Some say that business is an exacting mistress, but it should be a mistress to whom it is a pleasure to devote one's self, and if it becomes a vixen, a shrew, or a tyrant, that man is not adapted for business. Neither can I say that twenty-five years ago I had any particular routine, as I did my ledger, cash- book, and wrote all the letters of my office in London, when I was not interviewing visitors in the office or making calls outside ; and to-day I cannot definitely describe the routine, although teinpora umlantur. SIR T. IJEWAR. PkoU. lit Kllmtl tt Fry. \" If rules are to be observed, such as com peting with the office boy as to your arrival in the morning or observing the clock-work regularity of leaving off with your staff at night, this is not calculated to get an inspira tion for promoting your business to the best advantage. The principal of a business should carry his business in his mind ; ideas occur at any time and anywhere. Policy and organization are the main objects to consider, and to carry out ideas one must get the best men possible and let them have an interest in the results sufficient to encourage them to be enthusiastic in the welfare of the business. To the man who has assisted in

HOW BUSY MEN WORK. 5°3 invariably present to pay due deference to callers from abroad. \" The evolution of a business goes on unawares as to detail with those who are daily in touch with it, like fashion in anything, and to-day one has to look back ten years to see the changes and talk of the good old days when opposition was not so great. To-day more work has to be crushed into the same time, and better value has to be given to increase or keep up the turnover — as the Tenth Commandment says: ' Thou shalt give every man a square deal. This is the last and great com mandment, and there is no other like unto it. Upon this command ment hang all the law and profits of the business world.' And so long as that work and value are given the business will continue to hold its own or improve. Whereas twenty years ago the venders of a branded article were considered the only customers, to-day the consuming public are the customers and the venders are the distributers who have to supply what the public ask for. This has been brought about by advertisement, and to-day, if a man upon his trade relies, he must either ' bust' or advertise.\" MR. OSWALD STOLL. Photo, by Haita. \" On reflection,\" writes Mr. Oswald Stoll. the famous music-hall manager, \" the achieve ment of success seems to me to be more a question of character than of ability. Determination to succeed is in the nature, and often allies itself with mediocre abilities. Yet that one principje persist ently applied in one's daily occu pations carves a path of life of itself, and gives direction to one's efforts without the need of a plan. That ' the best-laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley ' is true. Care fully-laid plans to achieve a remote object more often than not lead to failure, together with loss of valuable time and energy, unless, in planning, control of all the factors essential to the success of the scheme is assured. To plan is to prophesy, and one should never prophesy unless one knows. Everything changes from so many different causes in so many different ways that expected condi tions are seldom realized. It is nearly always the unexpected that happens. \" On the other hand, to occupy one's self aimlessly is to take a sure road to failure. There must be an object in one's work, and after it has been attained the question, ' Was the game worth the candle ? ' A youth who begins this way soon finds himself not only determined to do things, but to do things that count. The particular calling he

5°4 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. at hand, will perchance prove of greater value than the possession of brilliant powers or attainments beyond our ken, and yet, whilst the possession of the one will be coveted, how often do we find that the most ordinary trouble will not be taken to cultivate the other, which should exist as a natural instinct. If duty follows taste and inclination, and our occupation can excite a real love, it is matter for congratulation, but that is vouchsafed to few of us, and even then our hands will find much to do which is not of our choice, and which can only be accomplished with effort. But if we are to succeed, an intelligent interest, whether it be natural or acquired, must be evidenced in all we undertake. To catch the master's eye is as important in work as to catch the ' Speaker's eye' in debate, and some little act of loyalty, or some thoughtful attention outside strict routine, perhaps insignificant services in themselves, may be the straws which enable the master to see the direction of the wind. The beginner should be careful to study the disposition and the methods of his. superiors, even should these appear mere whims and fancies, and should not despise attention to small things. Avoid waste, whether of time or material. Ink will be found cheaper in the long run than brains, and my experience is that those who spare the former, and are boastful that they never require a note or reminder, are wasteful of the latter, and are the greatest offenders in drawing upon the powers of others for directions which should be on record, and ought thus not to be sought a second time. responsibilities behind when they leave the office, and for them there is no need to burn the midnight oil. Not infrequently in my own experience, when questions of primary moment have been under consideration, I have retired to bed at a late hour with the cheery words, painfully suggestive of fatigue of body and mind, of an ever-active colleague ringing in my ears, ' Let us think it over before the morning.' In the case of many of. us the hours of labour close only when our eyes close in sleep, to recommence with our wakening moments—a state of things not to be encour aged, but a necessary sequence to force of circumstance. \" I do not think that any of us can fathom the secret of success, or recite rules which will assure it. Determination, application, and watchful observation are elements, with a power and willingness to take advantage of opportunities, which will come to us all.\" MR. W. MOKFORD. Photo. >>a Rita Uartia. \" Do not go through life without a hobby. If it be a useful hobby, one which adds to the wealth of the world and affords pleasure to others, so much the better, but it must be a

HOW BUSY MEN WORK. 5°5 work, snd relieve me of what was then a considerable burden. My work was then (as it is now) a pleasure, but arranging finances was a terrible strain, and caused me many sleepless nights, and to look back upon it now seems a terrible nightmare. However, that is past history and almost forgotten. Business now runs smoothly, and only needs supervision and careful administration to keep it going. Certainly competi tion every year grows keener, and it is only by having an ever-watch ful and diligent staff that enables us to hold our own. \" Continued success in business must be dependent upon selecting and advancing the right men, and conducting the business upon honest principles. \" My work now is of no special kind; anything and everything that needs consideration is my business. It is my duty to right anything that is wrong, to listen to any complaint be it from a customer or employi, and to endeavour at all times to administer justice ; and I am thankful to say I have a faithful and loyal staff, from manager downwards, and it is my joy and recompense for any trouble'I may have had in the past to see them happy and contented.\" moderate success. I know others who worked equally hard and made fortunes. SIR THOMAS LIPTON 1':::'.\" Ill EttMt •• Fry. \" There is one motto,\" in the opinion of Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., \" which I would like to impress upon every young man in business—' There is no fun like work.' I always keep this motto before me. Of course, after a man has won the game he set out to win, after he has succeeded in life, he can. do what he likes. But while he is working, work ought to be all his life. It ought to be work and play too. I have often worked eighteen hours a day, and enjoyed every minute. If a man is constantly looking at the clock, the spirit of success which is hovering over that man will soon take wing and fly away. There is no fun like work.\" \" First among the qualities that make for success in life I would place the sound prac tical common sense that recognizes oppor tunity ; then courage to take advantage of opportunity and tenacity of purpose to follow it up. Perhaps it is shrewdness rather than common sense which recognizes opportunity ; but the two qualities are often found together and are hardly distinguish able one from the other. These qualities are innate in a man ; if the germs are there they may be developed; but, in my somewhat extensive experience of men, busi

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. should be his clock; if he puts his heart into what he is doing, he will stick to his work till it is done. . \"Some very successful men are able to dis pense with relaxation altogether ; their busi ness absorbs all their faculties and they never put it aside ; it is their life. I do not presume to criticize ; it is a question of temperament. For myself, during the years when I worked hardest, laying the foundations of my business and building it up, I used to put work- entirely aside once a week and seek relaxation, fishing in my earlier days, hunt ing and shooting when I could afford it ; and I found time to cultivate an interest in horses, pictures, and many other matters which had no connection with business.\" \" The creation and construction of an entirely new business,\" writes Mr. Gordon Selfridge, \" necessitates a closer attention on the part of the head of the house to the smaller details of the business than would be expected in an organization of reasonable age. a complicated business, such, for example, as ours, who has not applied to its study the same thought and effort as he has to learning the multiplication table. Knowledge comes only by study — there is no royal road to gain it. \" I believe there is much, too, in example, and that staff which sees its chiefs earnest and attentive and in love, with the work which occupies their daily attention will acquire a certain amount of that earnestness and enthusiasm. MR. H. GORDON SKI.FR1DGE. Vluita. !»/ 1C. <t /). Ztoiracy. \" Personally, I enjoy during the ' business hours ' of the day earnest, serious work ; but the eyes of the chief should not be kept so close to his desk that he cannot survey the business as a whole, and that serious work referred to should mean the general construc tive work rather than that of simple detail, which every office has plenty of, but which can be as well done by the clerk as by the head of the house. \" With a business thoroughly established, the main duty of its head, in my judgment, lies in maintaining, guarding, and developing its policy, in studying and perfecting the staff, in originating and supplying ideas as far as he is capable, and in accepting and encouraging such ideas from others, for building higher and s'.ronger every section and division of the busi ness ; in keeping a broad control, in thinking and planning rather than in actually executing the details. He must, of course, be intelligent on this detail work, having presumably studied it thoroughly while passing through that portion of the business on

Tne Man Wlio Disliked Cats. By P. G. WODEHOUSE. Illustrated by Joseph Simpson, R.B.A. was Harold who first made us acquainted, when I was dining one night at the Cafe Britannique, in Soho. It is a peculiarity of the Cafe Britannique that you will always find flies there, even in winter. Snow was falling that night as I turned in at the door, but, glancing about me, I noticed several of the old faces. My old acquaintance. Percy the bluebottle, looking wonderfully fit despite his years, was doing deep-breathing exercises on a mutton cutlet, and was too busy to do more than pause for a moment to nod at me; but his cousin, Harold, always active, sighted me and bustled up to do the honours. He had finished his game of touch-last with my right ear. and was circling slowly in the air while he thought out other ways of enter taining me, when there was a rush of air, a swish of napkin, and no more Harold. I turned to thank my preserver, whose table adjoined mine. He was a Frenchman, a melancholy-looking man. He had the appearance of one who has searched for the leak in life's gas-pipe with a lighted candle ; of one whom the clenched fist of Fate has smitten beneath the temperamental third waistcoat-button. He waved my thanks aside. \" It was a bagatelle,\" he said. We became friendly. He moved to my table, and we fraternized over our coffee. Suddenly he became agitated. He kicked at something on the floor. His eyes gleamed angrily. \" Ps-s-st! \" he hissed. \" Va-t'en ! \" I looked round the corner of the table, and perceived the restaurant cat in dignified retreat. '' You do not like cats ? \" I said. \" I 'ate all animals, monsieur. Gats especially.\" He frowned. He seemed to hesitate. \" I will tell you my story,\" he said. \" You will sympathize. You have a sympathetic face. It is the story of a man's tragedy. It is the story of a blighted life. It is the story of a woman who would not forgive. It is the story \" \" I've got an appointment at eleven,\" I said. He nodded absently, drew at his cigarette, and began :— I have conceived my 'atred of animals, monsieur, many years ago in Paris. Animals are to me a symbol for the lost dreams of youth, for ambitions foiled, for artistic impulses cruelly stifled. You are astonished. You ask why I say these things. I shall tell you. I am in Paris, young, ardent, artistic. I wish to paint pictures. I 'ave the genius, the ent'usiasm. I wish to be disciple of the great Bouguereau. But no. I am dependent for support upon an uncle. He is rich. He

508 THE STRAND MAGAZINE, is a guest with an alligator. But especially there is a cat. He is fat. His name is Alexander. He belong to an American woman. She is fat. She exhibits him to me. He is wrapped in a silk and fur creation like an opera cloak. Every day she exhibits him. It is \" Alexander this \" and \" Alexander that,\" till I 'ate Alexander very much. I 'ate all the animals, but especially Alexander.\" And so. monsieur, it goes on, day by day, in this hotel that is a Zoological Garden. And every day I 'ate the animals the more. But especially Alexander. We artists, monsieur, we are martyrs to our nerves. It became insupportable,- this thing. Each day it became more insupport able. At night I dream of all the animals, one by one—the giraffe, the two dromedaries, the young lion, the alligator, and Alexander. Especially Alexander. You have 'card of men who cannot endure the society of a cat— how they cry out and jump in the air if a cat is among those present. Hein f Your Lord Roberts ? Precisely, monsieur. I have read so much. Listen, then. I am become by degrees almost like 'im. I do not cry out and jump in the air when I see the cat Alex ander, but I grind my leeth and I 'ate 'im. Yes, I am the sleeping volcano, and one morning, monsieur, I have suffered the eruption. It is like this. I shall tell you. Not only at that time am I the martyr to nerves, but also to toothache. That morning I 'ave 'ad the tootnache very bad. I 'ave been in pain the most terrible. I groan as I add iip the figures in my book. As I groan I 'ear a voice. \" Say good morning to M. Priaulx, Alex ander.\" Conceive my emotions, monsieur, when this fat, beastly cat is placed before me upon my desk ! It put the cover upon it. No, that is not the phrase. The lid. It put the lid upon it. All my smothered 'atred of the animal burst forth. I could no longer conceal my 'atred. I rose. I was terrible. 1 seized 'im by the tail. I flung him—I did not know where. I did not care. Not then. Afterwards, yes, but not then. Your Longfellow has a poem, \" I shot an arrow into the air. It fell to earth, I know not where.\" And then he has found it. The arrow in the 'eart of a friend. Am I right ? Also was that the tragedy with me. I flung the cat Alexander. My uncle, on whom I am dependent, is passing at the moment. He has received the cat in the middle of his face. My companion, with the artist's instinct for the \" curtain,\" paused. He looked round the brightly-lit restaurant. From every side arose the clatter of knife and fork, and the clear, sharp note of those who drank soup. In a distant corner a small waiter with a large voice was calling the cook names through the speaking-tube. It was a cheerful scene, but it brought no cheer to my companion. He sighed heavily and resumed. I 'urry over that painful scene. There is

THE MAN WHO DISLIKED CATS. 5°9 have engaged not too expensive bedroom. My uncle does not know. He still is in his private office. I secure my room. I dine cheaply that night, but I go to theatre and also to supper after the theatre, for have I not rny thousand francs ? It is late when I reach my bed room. I go to bed. I go to sleep. But I do not sleep long. I am awakened by a voice. It is a voice that says \" Move and I shoot! Move and I shoot! \" I lie still. I do not move. I am courageous, but I am unarmed. And the voice says again, \" Move and I shoot ! \" Is it robbers ? Is it some marauder who has made his way tp my room to plunder me ? I do not know. Per'aps I think yes. \" Who are you ? \" I have asked. There is no answer. I take my courage in my 'ands. I leap from my bed. I dash for the door. No pistol has been fired. I have reached the pass age, and have shouted for assistance. Hotel officials run up. Doors open. \" What is it ? \" voices cry. \" There is in my room an armed robber,\" I assure them. And then I have found no, I am mistaken. My door, you will understand, is open. And, as I have said these words, a large green parrot comes 'opping out. My assassin is nothing but a green parrot. beautiful lady in a pink dressing-gown which 'ave spoken these words. She has looked at me. I 'ave looked at her. I forget everything but that she is adorable. I forget those who stand by. I forget that the parrot has bitten me in the 'I WILL NOW GIVE YOU ONE THOUSAND FRANCS ANU NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN.\" \" Move and I shoot ! \" it has said to those gathered in the corridor. It then has bitten me in the 'and and passed on. I am chagrined, monsieur. But only for a moment. Then I forget my chagrin. For a voice from a door that 'as opened says with joy, \" It is my Polly, which I 'ave this evening lost ! \" I turn. I gasp for admiration. It is a 'and. I forget even that I am standing there

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. She has given a cry of dismay. \" Your 'and ! It is wounded ! \" I look at my 'and. Yes, it is bleeding, where the bird 'ave bitten it. \" Tchut, mademoiselle.\" I have said. \" It is a bagatelle.\" But .no. She is distressed. She is what your poet Scott 'ave said, a ministering angel thou. She 'ave torn her 'andkerchief and is binding up my wound. I am enchanted. Such beauty ! Such kindness ! 'Ardly can I resist to fall on my knees before 'er and declare my passion. We are twin souls. She has thanked me again. She has scolded the parrot. She has smiled upon me as she retires to her room. It is enough. Nothing is said, but I am a man of sensibility and discernment, and I understand that she will not be offended if I seek to renew our friendship on a more suitable occasion. The doors shut. The guests have returned to bed, the hotel servants to their duties. And I go back to my room. But not to sleep. It is very late, but I do not sleep. I lie awake and think of 'er. You will conceive, monsieur, with what mixed feelings I descend next morning. On the one 'and, I must keep the sharp look-out for my uncle, for 'im I must avoid till he shall have—what do you say in your idiom ? Yes, I have it-—simmered down and tucked in his shirt. On the other 'and. I must watch for my lady of the parrot. I count the minutes till we shall meet again. I avoid my uncle with success, and I see 'er about the hour of dtjeuner. She is talking to old gentleman. I have bowed. She have smiled and motioned me to approach. \" Father,\" she has said, \" this is the gentleman who caught Polly.\" We have shaken hands. He is indulgent papa. He has smiled and thanked me also. We have confided to each other our names. He is English. He owns much land in England. He has been staying in Paris. He is rich. His name is 'Enderson. He addresses his daughter, and calls her Marion. In rny 'eart I also call her Marion. You will perceive that I am, as you say, pretty far gone. The hour of dfjeuner has arrived. I entreat them to be my guests. I can run to it, you understand, for there are still in my pockets plenty of my uncle's francs. They consent. I am in 'eaven. All is well. Our friendship has progressed with marvellous speed. The old gentleman and I are swiftly the dear old pals. I 'ave confided to 'im my dreams of artistic fame, and he has told me 'ow much he dislikes your Lloyd George. He has mentioned that he and Miss Marion depart for London that day. I am desolate. My face tumbles. He has observed my despair. He has invited me to visit them in London. Imagine my chagrin. To visit them in London is the one thing I desire to do. But how ? I accept gratefully, but I ask myself how is it to be done ? I am poor blighter

THE MAN WHO DISLIKED CATS. tar. He will give me money for my purpose. But he has said, as we part, if I fail, his 'ands shall be washed of me. He cannot now forget that I am his dear brother's child ; but if I fail to accomplish the conquest of much society. And I—I have the succes fou. I am young, 'andsome, debonair. I cannot speak the English very well—not so well as I now speak 'im—but I manage. I get along. I am intelligent, amiable. Everyone loves me. . ' \" MY ASSASSIN IS NOTHING BUT A UKEKN PARROT. the divine Miss Marion, he thinks he will be able to. It is well. A week later I follow the 'Endersons to London. For the next few days, monsieur, I am in Paradise. My 'ost has very nice 'ouse in Eaton Square. He is rich, popular. There is No, not everyone. Captain Bassett, he does not love me. And why ? Because he loves the charming Miss Marion, and observes that already I am succeeding with her like a 'ouse on fire. He is ami de lamille. He is captain in your Garde Ecossais, and my 'ost told me 'e has distinguished himself as soldier

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. pretty much. It may be so. As soldier, per'aps. Hut at conversation he is not so good. He is quite nice fellow, you under stand—'andsome, yes; distinguished, yes. But he does not sparkle. He has not my verve, my llan. I—how do you say ?—I make the rings round him. \" Oh, Captain Bassett,\" she has said, \" how very splendid of you ! Ever since I first saw him have I loved Alexander. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. But it amazes me that you should have been able to induce her to part with 'im. In Paris she has refused all my offers.\" But, tchut! at that moment I would have made the rings round the 'ole British Army. Yes, and also the Corps Diplomatique. For I am inspired. Love 'as inspired me. I am conqueror. But I will not weary you, monsieur, with the details of my wooing. You are sym pathetic, but I must not weary you. Let us say that I 'ave in four days or five made pro gress the most remarkable, and proceed to the tragic end. Almost could I tell it in four words. In them one would say that it is set forth. There was in London at that time popular a song, a comic, vulgar song of the 'Alls, \" The Cat Came Back.\" You have *eard it ? Yes ? I 'card it myself, and without emotion. It had no sinister warning for me. It did not strike me as omen. Yet, in those four words, monsieur, is my tragedy. How ? I shall tell you. Every word is a sword -twisted in my 'eart, but I shall tell you. One afternoon we are at tea. All is well. I am vivacious, gay ; Miss Marion, charming, gracious. There is present also an aunt, Mr. 'Enderson's sister ; but 'er I do not much notice. It is to Marion I speak—both with my lips and also with my eyes. As we sit, Captain Bassett is announced. He has entered. We have greeted each other politely but coldly, for we are rivals. Tfiere is in his manner also a something which I do not much like—a species of suppressed triumph, of elation. I am uneasy—but only yet vaguely, you will understand. I have not the foreboding that he is about to speak my death- sentence. He addresses Miss Marion. There is joy in his voice. \" Miss 'Enderson,\" he has said, \" I have for you the bally good news. You will remember, isn't it, the cat belonging to the American woman in the hotel at Paris, of which you have spoken to me ? Last night at dinner I have been seated beside her. At first I am not certain is it she. Then I say that there cannot be two Mrs, Balderstone Rockmettellers in Europe, so I mention to her the cat. And, to cut the long story short, I have ventured to purchase for you as a little present the cat Alexander.\" I have uttered a cry of horror, but it is not 'eard because of Miss Marion's cry of joy. He has paused, embarrassed.

THE MAN WHO DISLIKED CATS. 513 I shrugged my shoulders. \" It's no business of mine,\" I said. \" But don't you think yourself it was playing it a bit low down ? Didn't the thought present itself to you in a shadowy way that it was rather rough on the bird ? \" \" It did, monsieur. But what would you ? It is necessary to break eggs in order to make an omelette. All is fair, you say, in love and war, and this was both. Moreover, you must understand, I do not dictate his movements to the parrot. He is free agent. I do but open the cage - door. Should he 'op out and proceed to the floor where is the cat, that is his affair. I shall continue, yes ? \" Alors ! I open the cage-door and dis appear discreetly. It is not politic that I remain to witness what shall transpire. It is for me to esta blish an alibi. I go to the drawing-room, where I remain. At dinner that night Mr. 'Enderson has laughed. \" In the 'all this afternoon,\" he has said, \" I have seen by chance the dickens of a funny occur rence. That parrot of yours. Marion, had escaped once again from its cage and was 'aving an argument with that cat which Captain Bassett has given to you.\" 'ad won the bloodless victory. I drink to 'im ! \" You can conceive my emotion as I listen to this tale. I am like the poet's mice and men whose best-laid schemes have gone away. I am baffled. I am discouraged. I do not know what I shall do. I must find another plan, but I do not know what. How shall I remove the cat ? Shall I kill Mm ? No, for I might be suspect. Shall I 'ire someone to steal 'im ? No, for my accomplice might betray me. I HAVE I'LACKD IN IT THE CAT.'1 \" Oh ! I 'ope that Alexander has not 'urt poor Polly, of whom I am very fond,\" she has said. \" The affair did not come to blows,\" has said Mr. 'Enderson. \" You may trust that bird to take care of himself, my dear. When I came upon the scene the cat was crouching in a corner, with his fur bristling and his back up, while Polly, standing before 'im, was telling 'im not to move or he would shoot.

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. for no longer will there be present the cat Alexander to 'arass me. When I have returned there is commotion in the 'ouse. I pass on the stairs domestics calling \" Puss, puss ! \" The butler is chirrup ing loudly and poking beneath the furniture with a umbrella. All is confusion and agitation. In the drawing-room is Miss Marion. She is distressed. \" Nowhere,\" she has said, \" can there be found the cat Alexander of whom I am so fond. Nowhere in the 'ouse is he. Where can he be ? He is lost.\" I am gentle, sympathetic. I endeavour to console her. I 'int to her that am I not sufficient substitute for a beastly cat ? She is, however, inconsolable. I must be patient. 1 must wait my time. Captain Bassett is announced. He is informed of what has 'appened. He is dis tressed. He has the air as if he, too, would endeavour to be gentle, sympathetic. But I am Johnny-on-the-spot. I stay till he 'as gone. Next.day again it is \" Puss, puss ! \" Again the butler has explored under the furniture with the umbrella. Again Miss Marion is distressed. Again 'ave I endeavoured to console. This time I think I am not so unsuccessful. I am, you understand, young, 'andsome, sympathetic. In another two ticks I am about to seize 'er 'and and declare my passion. But, before I can do so, Captain Bassett is announced. I gaze at him as at unsuccessful rival. I am confident. I am conqueror. Ah. 1 little know ! It is in the moments of our highest 'ope. monsieur, that we are destroyed. Captain Bassett, he, too, 'as the air of the conqueror. He has begun to speak. \" Miss \"Enderson,\" he has said, \" I have once more the bally good news. I rather fancy that I 'ave tracked down the missing Alexander, do you not know ? \" Miss Marion 'as cried out with joy. But I am calm, for is not Alexander already yester day destroyed ? \" It is like this,\" he has resumed. \" I have thought to myself where is lost cat most likely to be ? And I have answered,' In the Cats' House.' I go this morning to the Cats' House and there I see a cat which is either lost Alexander or his living image, Exactly is he the same to all appearances as the lost Alexander. But there is, when I try to pur chase 'im, some curious 'iteb which they do not explain. They must 'ave time, they say, to consider. They cannot at once decide.\" \" Why, what nonsense ! \" Miss Marion 'ave cried. \" If the cat is my cat, surely then must they return 'im to me ! Come,\" she has said, \" let us all three at once in a taxi-cab go to the Cats' House. If the all three of us identify the lost Alexander, then must they return 'im.\"

THE MAN WHO DISLIKED CATS. 515 With a quick movement he reached for his glass of liqueur brandy and drained it at a gulp. \" Monsieur,\" he said, \" you will not wish me to describe the scene ? There is no need for me—hein ?—to be Zolaesque. You can imagine ? \" \" She chucked you ? \" In moments of emotion it is the simplest language that comes to the lips. He nodded. \" And married Captain Bassett ? \" The post was not well paid, but it was per manent. My uncle insist that I take it. What choice ? I took it. It is the post which I still 'old.\" He ordered another liqueur brandy and gulped it down. \" The name is familiar to you, monsieur ? You 'ave 'eard of M. Sartines ? \" \" I don't think I have. Who is he ? \" \" He is a man of letters, a savant. For five years he has been occupied upon a great work. It is with that that I assist him, by '1 AM OliNTI.E, SYMPATHETIC. I KNDKAVOUR TO CONSOLE HER.\" He nodded again. \" And your uncle ? \" I said. \" How did he take it ? \" He sighed. \" There was once more,\" he said, \" blooming row, monsieur.\" \" He washed his hands of you ? \" \" Not altogether. He was angry, but he gave me one more chance. I am still 'is dear brother's child, and he cannot forget it. An acquaintance of his, a man of letters, a M. Paul Sartines, was in need of a secretary. collecting facts for 'is use. I 'ave spent this afternoon in the British Museum, collecting facts. To-morrow I go again. And the next day. And again after that. The book will occupy yet another ten years before it is completed. It is his great work.\" \" It sounds as if it was,\" I said. \" What's it about ? \" He signalled to the waiter. \" Garfon, one other liqueur brandy. The book, monsieur, is a ' 'Istory of the C^t in Ancient Egypt.' \"

How the Coronation Picture \\Vas Painted. Interview witk Mr. J. H. F. BACON, A.R.A. HE coronation of an English monarch is an event in English history. It may be likened to a golden mile-stone for future generations. As long as the monarchy and the race shall last, those few hours of splendid ceremonial will have a place in our annals. No other event equals it in mag nificence. The flower of England is gathered in her saintliest fane— of her Blood-Royal, of her nobility, of her chivalry, of her beauty. To depict such a scene is by far the most diffi cult task any painter for the eye of posterity could undertake. It is not only difficult as art, but in respect of mere manual labour it is stupendous. That is why, at six o'clock on the / fateful morn ing of August 9th, 1902,the Duke of Nor folk. Earl Marshal of England, upon whose shoulders the burden of all the arrange ments had fallen, said to the late Mr. Abbey, R.A. :- \"Mr. Abbey, I would rather have my task than yours,\" The Duke's meaning was that, great as his own labour was, it was less than that of the man who was about to record its results— who for many, many months thereafter was to toil daily, without intermission, at a work which, in the painter's modest words, '' could not succeed, and might be a gigantic failure.\" What Mr. Abbey achieved officially in • KINO OKORC.R SITTIXO FOR THK CORONATION PlnTRR. Mr, ftucm. It-m' frprenly fur IA(* at ttclf, 1902, Mr. J. H. F. Bacon, A.R.A., then attempted unofficially and on a

HOW THE CORONATION PICTURE WAS PAINTED. and pageantry, and he had never shrunk from the labour such paintings involved. A friend relates how, as a boy, Mr. Bacon was greatly stirred by a sight of an engraving of David's \" Coronation of Napoleon,\" and the fancy which then crossed his mind had been renewed when years later, in Paris, he had stood before the great canvas in the Louvre itself, murmuring to a fellow-student:— \" I wonder if the time will ever come when I shall paint a coronation ? \" \" With the commission in my pocket,\" said Mr. Bacon, \" I went down to have a pre liminary look at the Abbey. I confess I felt daunted. I was no architectural draughtsman, and the enormous proportions of the interior and the wealth of perspective detail which must be rendered in order to include the chief human element momentarily appalled me. The spectacle must be done as a whole, not as a fragment. It could not even be a pageant; its note must be actuality. My standpoint, I felt, must be as different as possible from Hayter's ' Coronation of Queen Victoria.' After going about backwards and for wards and making numer ous sketches, I decided upon the exact spot. It was immediately at the left of the Throne, some dozen feet away — not, therefore, facing the altar, but the great pillar at the south transept or Poets' Corner. The King would therefore be in profile.\" MR. J. H. F. om o Photograph Having at length hit upon the scheme of his picture, Mr. Bacon set about making a preliminary design of the whole interior visible at that point. He had to take careful measurements of the masonry and galleries, so as to produce fidelity to scale. In order to show the relation of a human figure to the foreground and background, he marked indications at several points. If the reader will glance to the extreme left of the Peeresses' Gallery in the following design he will see a lonely female figure in white. This is Mrs. Bacon, the charming and sympathetic wife of the painter, and the pictorial fore runner of several rows of coroneted ladies of exalted rank. At six o'clock on the morning of June last Mr, Bacon was in his appointed place, with his sketching materials beside him. \" Although I had been there daily for three weeks, it now all had a look of magic. The mighty stone pillars, blackened by time, seemed like the limbs of giants dipping their feet in wave upon wave of picturesque humanity. One felt bewildered to see the

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Bishops, in those miraculously embroidered copes, which were afterwards to come to my studio, and over which I was destined to spend many laborious hours. Theybore crosses, and heralds were at the head of every group. Then came the King and Queen, the latter all in white, without head-dress, and with six Ladies-in-Waiting. Over the King's head a canopy was held by four Knights of the Garter—the Earls of Rosebery, Cadogan, Crewe, and Minto. On his head is the Cap saw. First appeared the Archbishops and ' \" How I would have liked to paint that picture ! But this is only the beginning. My time was not yet.\" As Mr. Bacon stood there waiting, as the ceremonial nine centuries old went on and the choir sang, he could not help wondering if it were really true that he should be associ ated with that wondrous scene as much and perhaps as long as any, apart from the prin cipal actors—\" that under my humble roof it would all be repeated in detail ; that each, from the King downward, would come to me The empty, silent Abbey—Mr. Bacon's canvas as it appeared on the eve of the Coronation, and before he had painted a single portrait. of State, crimson velvet bordered with ermine ; his head is slightly bent; his face is pale and serious ; every eye in that vast assembly is centred upon him. \" It is a solemn moment as he takes his seat and the Archbishop of Canterbury, flanked by the Bishops, the Lord Great Chamberlain, the Lord Charfcellor, the Lord High Constable, and the Earl Marshal, pre ceded by Garter King at Arms, advances, and in a loud voice presents the King: ' George, the undoubted King of this realm.' A great shout goes up : ' God save King George !' in order that the ceremony might, so to speak, be completed, and that it might be transmitted to posterity.\" The painter's time was now come. \" After the ' Veni Creator Spiritus' had been sung the Sovereign was assisted to remove his robe. As to that, there is a little difficulty which Viscount Churchill told me about afterwards when he came to my studio. As he was leaving his dressing-room that morning he noticed a pair of scissors on his dressing-table. Something prompted him to slip these in his pocket—why, he could not tell. As he was fumbling with the thick silk

HOW THE CORONATION PICTURE WAS PAINTED. cord he saw, to his horror, that it had been tied into a hard knot. The King noticed his embarrassment. ' Can't you undo it ? ' he asked. Then Lord Churchill remembered his good luck. ' It's all right, sir-,' he whispered back ; ' I have a pair of scissors in my pocket.' He instantly produced them, cut the cord, and afterwards gave away The Queen and the Royal Box at the moment of The extreme right of the picture—The Chair of Stale acclamation—This and the picture below are rapid impressions done during the ceremony. as Mr. Bacon saw it on the morning of June 23rd. with ermine, upon a cushion. It is poised some pieces of it to the duchesses as souvenirs. But this by the way. The King is at last seated in the Chair of Destiny, and the Arch bishop begins the cere mony of anointing. \" I could not help being struck by the comparative smallness of His Majesty as the larger proportions of the Prelate pressed close and seemed al most to overwhelm him, with his enormous and resplendent cope. But that was only figure of the monarch, as if aided by the influence of the tremendous scene now being enacted, seems to grow in size and majesty. The Royal Crown appears, sparkling with precious stones, lined with velvet and edged a moment, The finished picture. the impression of -p^e crowning ceremony — The exact moment chosen to perpetuate in the

520 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. ,\" \\. MRS. LEOPOLD DE ROTHSCHILD. THE EARL OF GRANARD. Portrait studies for the Great Picture. over the head of the King and then descends. At the same moment a wave of iridescence passes over the crowd of nobles : they are putting on their coronets. The Archbishop moves backward a step, muttering a bene diction. \" Now my hand and brain are busy indeed. I fairly fly over the surface of my sketching- board in my desperate endeavour to record all I now see. P'or this is the exact moment I have chosen to perpetuate on canvas. I am oblivious to what happens after this. I am oblivious to the drums, the trumpets, and the bells—to the frenzied acclamations of the multitude—' God save the King ! ' ' Long live the King ! '' May the King live for ever ! ' And, as a wondrous omen and as if to help me, to collaborate with me in my task, a gleam of sunlight has entered the Abbey and touched the scene with radiance.\" On the preceding page is the artist's sketch, just as it was made at that critical moment. It is, of course, the roughest impressionism, but still it conveys the idea in quite a magical way—the pervading greyness, illumined by flecks and patches of light. The very next day, on a canvas eighteen feet long by eleven feet high, Mr. Bacon began the painting now surrounded by crowds at the Royal Academy, and shortly to be hung at Buckingham Palace. While Mr. Bacon was busy painting the interior of the Abbey on the larger scale, he had notified each of the four hundred persons whose portraits were required, and three days after the Coronation the first of a long line of carriages and motor-cars began to arrive at No, 11, Queen's Gate Terrace, They came in all LADV MARY DAWSON. their robes and with their coronets during a period of many months. In the brief intervals between the departure of one and the arrival of another sitter the artist spent his time running up and down a fifteen-foot wheeled ladder, now at this point and now at that. \" Often I was nearly dead with fatigue, when a duke or an earl, a duchess or a countess, was announced, and I had to resume my portrait painting. My very first sitter was Lady Eileen Knox. My first male sitter was Mr. Leopold de Rothschild. Earl Beauchamp and Lord Churchill were amongst those who never spared themselves to assist me. Clad in every detail of his robes. Lord Beauchamp stood holding the Sword of State for three hours. Slowly, one by one, I began to people the floor of my nave and my empty galleries. In painting a picture of this size, the question of tone—of values—is most important. I found often that, after I had carefully introduced my portrait, it was far too vivid when viewed at the proper distance, and had therefore to be reduced in intensity. Consequently those details which seem natural

UOW THE CORONATION PICTURE WAS PAINTED. 521 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. LADY VICTORIA CARRINGTON. Portrait studies for the Great Picture for his first sitting than he expressed himself as greatly pleased, and recognized figure after figure, remarking in particular several ladies, as Lady Mary Dawson, Lady Victoria Car- rington, besides Mrs. Rothschild and others in the galleries. Afterwards he inspected the scene with the aid of a pair of opera-glasses. Facing the spectator, in a line parallel to the Royal box, and the other side of the King, who is shown in profile, are shown the seated figure of the Queen and her Maids of Honour, reading from left to right: Lady Aileen Butler, Lady Eileen Knox, Lad)' Dorothy Browne, Lady Mabel Ogilvy, Lady Victoria Carrington, and Lady Mary Dawson. Behind the Archbishop of Canterbury come the Archbishop of York and the Bishops of London and Winchester. Beyond them is a double line—Lord Shaftesbury, Lord Durham, and the Dukes of Argyll, Northumberland, Somerset, and Norfolk. In front of them are Lords Roberts and Kitchener. Behind the King's chair stand the Bishops of Bath and Wells, Durham, and Peterborough, the latter next to the Duke of Devonshire. The figure on the right, the largest in the picture, is Earl Carrington, who is next to Viscount Churchill. Beyond them, in a row from left to right, are General Sir Reginald Pole-Carew and Lords Cadogan, Curzon, and Crawford. The representatives of the Colonies, prominent amongst whom is Sir Wilfrid Laurier, may be seen on the extreme right of the canvas. \" His Majesty made a splendid sitter, 35- THE EARL OF ERROL. J patient and obedient. He came three limes, each time with his equerry, and chatted and smoked a cigarette, while robed in his magni ficent golden mantle. The Crown was not here, so the King said, ' I see, Mr. Bacon, you want to see the exact line of the brim.\" He then asked his equerry to pass him his high silk hat, which he placed on his head. After wards, armed with an order from the Lord Chamberlain, I paid several visits to the Tower, had the Crown removed from its case, and painted it as you now see it.\" Then the Queen came, after the King had given three sittings. The moment she saw the figure of her Royal Consort she said to Mr. Bacon : \" Do nothing further to the King. The likeness is splendid. Don't touch it again.\" During her sittings Her Majesty was read to by her Maid of Honour. \" I ought perhaps to mention that after the King left one of my children, who were naturally in a state of high excitement, noticed some gold threads on the studio floor. They came from the King's mantle, the modern portion of it being of more fragile texture than the rest, which is that worn by George IV. at his Coronation. Of course, these we treasure as relics.\"

The Poor in Heart. By PERCEVAL GIBBON. Illustrated by C. H. Taffs. T was his habit of an evening to play the flute; and he was playing it faithfully, with the score propped up against a pile of books on his table, when the noises from the street reached him, and interrupted his music. With the silver- dotted flute in his hand he moved to the win dow and put aside the curtains to look out. The flute is the ins;rument of m:id men ; and Robert Lucas had mildness for a chief quality. At the age of thirty-five, in the high noon of his manhood, he showed to the world a friendly, unenterprising face, neatly bearded, and generally a little vacant. The accident that gave him a Russian mother was his main qualification for the post he now held—that of representative of a firm of leather manu facturers in the Russian town of Tambov. He spoke Russian, he knew leather, and he could ignore the smells of a tan-yard ; these facts entitled him to a livelihood. To right and left, as he looked forth, the cobbled street was dark ; but opposite, in the silversmith's shop, there were lights, and, below, a small crowd had gathered. He watched, wondcringly. He knew the silver smith well enough to nod as he passed his door—a young, laborious man with a rapt, uncertain face and a tumbled mane of black hair. There were also a little, grave wife and a fat, grave baby ; and these, when they were visible, received separate and distinctive nods, and always returned them. The hide-sellers and tanners were, for the most part, crude and sportive persons with whom he could have nothing in common ; they lived, appar ently, on drink and uproar; and he had come to regard the silversmith and his family as vague friends. He pressed his face closer to the glass of the double casement to see more certainly. The little shop seemed to be full of lights and people, and outside its door there was a -™~- Copyright, 1512, by press of folk. The murmur of voices was audible, though he could distinguish nothing that was said. But now and again there was laughter. It was the laughter that held him gazing and apprehensive ; it had a harsher note than mirth. It seemed to him. too, that some of the men in the doorway were in uniform ; he could see them only in outline, mere black silhouettes against the interior lights ; but there was about them the ominous cut of the official, that Russian bird of ill- omen. And then, while yet he doubted, there sounded the very key-note of disaster. From somewhere within the silversmith's shop a woman screamed, sudden and startling. \" Now, now ! \" said Robert Lucas, at his window, grasping his flute nervously. And, as though in answer to his remonstrance, there was again that guttural, animal laughter. He frowned. \" I must see into this,\" he told himself,

THE POOR IX HEART. 5*3 the arm and asked a question. The lights in the shop lit up the fellow's hairy face and loose grin as he turned to answer. \" Eh ? \" said the man. \" Why, it's a Jew that the police are clearing out. Did you hear the Jewess squeal ? \" was in preparation. The crowd seemed to be waiting for some culminating scene, with more than screams in it. A touch of nervous excitement came to fortify him, and he thrust in between two huge slaughterers, whose clothes reeked of the killing sheds. '1 MUST SEE INTO THIS,' HE TOLD H1MSKIF, VERY SERIOUSLY. \" Yes, I heard,\" said Lucas, and moved away. He was cut off from the door of the shop by the hacks of the crowd, and passed along the street to get round them. Inside the lighted house the baby had begun to cry, but there was no more screaming. He had a sense that unless he hurried he might be too late for what \" Make way ! \" he said, breathlessly, as they turned on him. One of them swore and would have shoved him back, and others looked round at the sound of strife. Lucas put up an uncertain hand to guard the blow. It was Ihe hand that held the flute, whose silver keys flashed in the lights from the shop. \" Ha ! \" grunted the slaughterer, arrested by that sight. He looked at Lucas doubtfully, his neat clothes, his general aspect of a superior. \" Who are you ? \" he demanded. \" Make way ! \" re peated Lucas. It seemed to con firm the slaughterer in his suspicion that this was a personage to be deferred to. \" Hi, there ! \" he bellowed, helpfully. \" Give room for his Excellency. Let his Excellency come through ! Don't you see what he's got in his hand ? Make way, will you ? \" He bent his huge, unclean shoulder to the business of clearing a path, and drove through like a snow- plough. Lucas followed along the lane that he made, and came to the pavement close by the shop.

5*4 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. of the people within the bright windows ; he saw something that had the look of a struggle. Voices babbled and the crowd pressed closer ; and suddenly, from the open doorway, two figures reeled forth, clutching and thrusting. One was in uniform, the other was a woman. For a couple of seconds they wrenched and fought, staged before the crowd on the lighted doorstep ; and then the woman broke away and ran blindly towards the spot where Lucas stood. She had, he saw suddenly, a child in her arms, that cried unceasingly. The uniformed man who had tried to hold her came plunging after her; his face was creased in clownish and cruel smiles. Lucas saw the thing stupidly ; his mind prompted him to nothing ; he stood where he was. empty of resource. He was directly in the flying woman's path, and she rushed at him as to a refuge. He was the sole thing in that narrow arena of dread which she did not recognize as a figure of oppression ; and she floundered to her knees at his feet and held forth the terrified child to him in an agony of appeal. Her tormented and fearful face was upturned to him ; he knew her for the Jewess, the wife of the silversmith. \"Father!\" she breathed, in the pitiful idiom of that land of orphans. \" Ye-cs,\" said Robert Lucas, vaguely, and put a hand on her head. Never before, in all the orderly level of his life, had a human being chosen him for champion and saviour. He was aware of something within him that surged, some spate of force and potency in his blood ; he stood upright with a start to confront the police man who was on the woman's heels. The man was grinning still, fatuously and con sciously, like a buffoon who knows he will be applauded ; Lucas fronted his smiling security with a still fury that wiped the mirth from his face and left him gaping. \" Get back !'.' said Lucas. He spoke in a low tone, and the crowd jostled nearer to hear. The policeman stared at him, amazed and uncomprehending. \" Sir,\" he stammered ; \" Excellency—this Jewess—she \" He stopped. Lucas was pointing at him with the flute across the bowed head of the woman, who crouched over her child at his feet. \" You shall report the matter to the Governor,\" said Lucas, in the same tone of icy anger. \" And I will report it to the Minister.\" He touched the woman. \" Get up,\" he said. •.\".Come with.me.\" .-• •'• .•. • . He had to repeat it before she understood ; she was numb with terror. She rose with difficulty to her feet, clasping the child, whose wail was now weak with exhaustion. The peering crowd made a ring of brute faces about them, full of menace and mystery, but the new power in him moved them to right and left at his gesture, and they gave him

THE POOR IN HEART. 525 explain afterwards how you did it. / am not a woman who can be insulted with safety; my arrest will have to be explained to St. Petersburg, and you will have to pay for it. I saw how she was being handled, and how your duty was being done. I tell you, you're in danger. Be careful ! \" \" So ? \" replied the officer, slowly. He turned to the folk who were the absorbed audience of this conference. \"Move away, there,\" he com manded, harshly. \" This is none of your business. Off with you ! \" They shifted back reluctantly, and he waited till he could speak unheard by them. Then he turned to Lucas again, with a touch of the confidential in his manner. \" What do you want with her ? \" he asked. \"Want with her?\" repeated Lucas, not immediately com prehending. Then, as the man's mean ing reached him, he trembled. \" I don't want her,\" he cried. \" I don't want her. You want her, not I ; and you sha'n't have her. Do you understand ? You sha'n't have her ! \" \" Sha'n't I ? \" re torted the officer, but there was in decision in his voice. \"No!\" said Luras. be able to set in motion those mills which grind erring servants of the State into disgrace and ruin. He certainly had a large and authoritative way with him. \" Will you come to the Bureau, then, and speak with the chief ? \" he suggested. \" You see, your action causes a difficulty.\" THIS WOMAN,' HE SAID, ' IS ARRKSTED.'\" There was a pause. Neither of them was sure of himself. The officer found himself in face of a situation which he could not gauge ; and it would never do for a provincial police official to attract notice in remote St. Peters burg. For all he knew, this flimsy little man, who had snatched his Jewess from him, might \" No, I won't,\" said Lucas, flatly.

526 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. breathed heavily. He summoned what he had of stubbornness to uphold him. The affair so far had gone valiantly ; he meant that it should continue on the same plane. He saw the officer hesitate frowningly, and quaked. In a moment the man might make up his mind and seize him; there was an urgent necessity for some action that should quell him. Like all weak men, he saw a resource in violence, and as the officer opened his lips to speak again he interrupted. \" No more ! \" he shouted. \" You have heard what I had to say; that is enough. Now go ! \" He pointed frantically with his flute, and the officer, at the sudden lifting of his arm, made a surprised movement, which Lucas misunderstood. With a cry that was half terror and half ecstasy he smote, and the flute beat the officer's cap down over his eyes. \" Yei Baku!\" ejaculated the officer, falling back. Lucas did not wait for him to thrust the cap away and recover himself. He had done his utmost, and the next step must rest with Providence. It was but two steps to the doorway. The officer was not quick enough to see his panic-stricken retirement. He recovered his sight only to see the slam of the door, which seemed to close in his face with a contemptuous and defiant emphasis. It was like a final fist shaken at him to drive home a warning. He shook his head despondently. On the other side of the door Lucas, fighting with his loud breath, heard his slow footsteps on the cobbles as he departed. He waited, hardly daring to relax his mind to hope, till he heard the party of them drawing off. He was weak with unaccustomed emotions. What struck him as marvellous was that the woman, whose face he had last seen as a writhen mask of fear, should appear in the light of his room with her calm restored, with nothing but some disorder of her hair and dress to betoken her troubles. Even the child in her arms, worn out with weeping, perhaps, had fallen asleep. He stared at the pair of them vacantly. His lamp, his music, all the apparatus of his gentle and decorous existence were as he had left them ; their familiar and prosaic quality made his adven ture appear by contrast monstrous. The fewess was watching him. In her dark, serious way she had a certain striking beauty. Her grave eyes waited for him to look at her. \" What is it ? \" he said at last. \" If I might put the child down,\" she suggested, timidly. Lucas pointed to the double-doors of his bedroom. \" My bed is in there,\" he answered. She lowered her head, as though in obedience to a command he had given, and carried the child out. Lucas watched her go, and then crossed the room to a cupboard which

THE POOR IN HEART. 527 Alxmt three o'clock in the morning he awoke from an uneasy doze, chilled to the marrow, and was prompted to try if the flute would still make music. It would not. It is too much to ask of any instrument that hits been used as an instrument of war. It had saved a Jewess and her child, magnified its owner into a man of action, and was thence forth silent for ever. \" I must have hit that officer pretty hard,\" was the reflection of Robert Lucas. The episode closed shortly before noon next day, when two elderly men of affairs came to fetch his guests away. They entered the room while he was entertaining the baby with a whistled selection from his repertoire of flute music, and he broke off short as they regarded him from the doorway. The Jewess looked up alertly as they entered. They bowed to Lucas with a manner of servility in which there was an ironic sugges tion, while their eyes examined him shrewdly. They were bearded, aquiline persons, soft- spoken and withal formidable. He had a notion that they found him amusing, but suppressed their amusement. \" Then it is you we have to thank,\" said the elder of them, when formal greetings had been exchanged, \" for the safety of this girl and her child ? \" \" I don't want any thanks,\" protested Lucas. He could not tell them how the thanks he had already received transcended any words they could speak. \" It was a villainous thing,\" he went on. \" I'm glad I could help. Er—is the silver smith all right ? \" \" Money was paid,\" answered the grey- haired Jew ; \" he is safe, therefore. But he spent the night in chains, while his wife was here with you.\" He spoke with a pregnant gravity. The Jewess started up and addressed him in a tongue Lucas could not understand. He saw that she pointed to him and to the bedroom and to the stairs, and that she spoke with heat. The old Jew heard her intently. \" So ? \" he said, in his deep voice. \" Then we have more to thank you for than we thought. You gave up your rooms, it seems ? \" \"It is nothing,\" said Lucas. \"You see, a lady—well, I could hardly— \" Yes, I see,\" agreed the old Jew. \" I have to do with a noble spirit. And you do not want any thanks ? So ? But we Jews, we have more things to give than thanks, and better things.\" \" I don't want anything,\" Lucas answered him. \" I'm glad everything's all right.\" \" You are very good,\" said the old man, \" very good and generous. But some day, perhaps, you will have a need—and then you will find that our people do not forget.\" The Jewess had nothing to take with her but her child. She bowed her head and murmured something as she passed out, and

5*8 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. mildly thrilled to find that an artist had sketched him and immortalized him in its columns. And next morning came the letter. \" Guelder and Zorn \" was the name en graved across the head of it, in a slender Italian script; it conveyed nothing to him. The body of the communication was type written, and stated that if Mr. Robert H. Somebody laughed. Lucas looked round rather helplessly. \" They say,\" he explained, referring to the letter, \" that they'll be glad to serve me.\" \" Then you might lend me a couple of million,\" suggested the young man opposite, with entire disbelief. \" Them Jews would never miss it.\" \"THE JEWESS STARTED UP AND ADDRESSED HIM IN A TONGUE LUCAS COULD NOT UNDERSTAND.\" Lucas would present himself at the above address, the firm would be glad to serve him. Nothing more. \" Mean to say you haven't heard of Guelder and Zorn ? \" demanded the young man whose place at breakfast in the boarding-house was opposite to him, when he asked a question. \" Say—d'you know what money is ? Hard, round, flat stuff—money ? You do know that, eh ? Well, Guelder and Zorn is the same thing.\" Lucas had the sense to drop the matter there. He put the letter in his pocket and went on with his breakfast, and listened with incredulous interest to the talk that went on about the wealth, the greatness, the magnifi cence, and power of the financial house which professed itself anxious to be of use to him. He was sorry to have to leave the table before it came to an end. It is characteristic of him that the letter aroused no wild hopes, nor even an acute

THE POOR IN HEART. 5*9 curiosity. He came,, in the course of the morning, to the offices of Messrs. Guelder and Zorn in much the same frame of mind he brought to his business efforts. They were near, but not in, Wall Street—a fact of some symbolic quality which he. of course, could not appreciate. He stood on the edge of the sidewalk for some moments, looking up at their solid, responsible block of building, which anchored their fortunes to earth, till someone jostled him into the gutter. Then he recollected himself and prepared to enter the money-mill. A hall-porter like a comic German heard his inquiry, scrutinized him with a withering glare, and jerked a thumb towards a door. He found himself in such an office as may have seen the first Rothschild make his first profits —a room austere as a chapel, rigidly confined to the needs of business. A screen, pierced by pigeon-holes, cut it in half. Experience has proved that no sum of money is too large to pass through a pigeon-hole. \"Veil?\" A whiskered, spectacled face, framed in the central pigeon-hole, with eyes magnified by the spectacles,' regarded him sharply. \" Oh ! \" He recalled himself to his con cerns with a jerk, and fumbled in his pockets. \" I had a letter,\" he explained. \" Vere is de letter ? \" He found it, after an exciting search, and passed it over. The whiskered face developed a hand to receive it. \" I don't know what it's about,\" explained Lucas. \" Perhaps your people have made a mistake in the name, or something.'' \" Our beoble,\" said the face in the pigeon hole, with malignant emphasis, \" do nod make mistagues ! \" There was an interval while the letter was read, and Lucas stood and fidgeted, with a sense that he was intrusive and petty and undesired. \" Yes,\" said the owner of the spectacles, at length. \" You vait. I vill enguire.\" He left his pigeon-hole unshuttered, and to Lucas, while he waited, it seemed that several men came to it and glanced at him forbiddingly. None spoke ; they just looked as though in righteous indignation at his presence, with seventy-five cents in his pocket, in that high temple of finance. Then the whiskered and spectacled face fitted itself again into the aperture. \"So you are Mr. Robert H. Lugas, are you ? \" it inquired. \" Den vere vas you in de year 1886? \" \" Where was I ? \" repeated Lucas, vaguely. Vol. «liiL-36. \" Let me see ! 1886—yes ! I was in Russia then—in Tambov.\" \" Yes.\" The other's regard was keen. \" An' now tell me aboud de man dat lived obbosite to you in Tambov ? \" \"Do you mean the silversmith?\" said Lucas. 'Hie other nodded. \"Oh, him! He was a Jew. They expelled him.\"

53° THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" My instrugtions are to cash de cheque ven you haf written it.\" \" Oh ! \" said Lucas. jHe stared incredulously at the face for some moments and then wrote a cheque for the sum he had named—fifty thousand dollars. He was about to add his signature when some thing occurred to him. \" Is it because I went across the road to that little woman in Tambov ? \" he asked, suddenly. The whiskered face answered com p o s e d 1 y : \" No. It is be cause you went out of your rooms and slept on de stairs.\" \" Because \"— he seemed puzzled— \"but that is a thing —w h y, any gentleman would do it.\" \"Dose are my instrug- tions,\" said the man behind the pigeon-hole. \" I see.\" Lucas stood upright, the un- completed cheque in his fingers. All surprise and excitement had vanished from his regard; he seemed taller and stronger than he had been a minute before. He had yet many calls to make, and, in the nature of things, many rebuffs to receive, before he went home to supper; and the money in his pocket totalled seventy-five cents. He needed new boots, new clothes, leisure, consideration, and a sight of his native land ; in short, he needed fifty thousand dollars. \" You will cash this because I didn't fail to respect a helpless woman ? \" he asked, in \"'BUT,' CKIKI> i.rcAs, 'i MIGHT WRITK KIKTY THOUSAND DOLLARS !' \" level tones. The w h i s- kered cashier replied : \" Yes. Because you gave up your room and kept watch on de stairs.\" Lucas laughed gently. \" That is not the way

THE JAPANESE BAYARD. The Story of the Strangest Career in History. By ARTHUR MORRISON. T the Japan-British Exhibition of 1910, among the many fine ancient works of art in metal was shown part of a suit of Japanese armour,most beauti fully wrought, which had a greater interest for the student of things Japanese than was provided by its beauty of workmanship, great as that was ; for it was -the armour of Minamoto no Yoshitsune, the darling of Japanese romance, the hero without fear or reproach among the many gallant knights who figure in the turbulent history of Dai Nippon. And among the examples of ancient lacquer-work was a wooden saddle, decorated with lacquer and inlay of mother-of-pearl, also reputed to have been part of the warlike equipment of the famous Minamoto warrior. I have said something of Yoshitsune's adventures in last month s STRAND MAGA ZINE, and here, according to a promise then made, I present a fuller account. Any complete collection of the tales and legends that are attached to his name would fill several volumes; so that I can give here very little more than an outline of his history. Minamoto Yoshitsune was born in a time of turbulent civil war —in our year 1159. For many centuries, right down to the accession of the present Emperor, the actual dominion was exercised by a succession of powerful families, who, while show ing the Emperor every mark of formal loyally, neverthe less kept him a helpless figure-head, and usurped the real government of the country. The colli sions and successions of these noble fami lies were marked by many wars, in the year of Yoshitsune's birth a struggle was in progress between the two rival clans of Taira and Mina

532 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. was murdered by hired assassins in the bathroom of the house of a. friend who had given him shelter. Taira no Kiyomori. who had so encompassed the death of Yoshitomo. was chief of the .Taira clan, triumphant and all-powerful, and actual ruler of Japan. Emissaries from Kiyomori were sent to seize Yoshitomo's children, and his widowed consort, the beautiful Tokiwa. fled unattended and on foot through the snow of a hard winter with her three children, the eldest being seven years of age, and the youngest, who was destined to become the hero Yoshitsune, barely one year, according to our method of computing age, from which the Japanese method differs. This romantic episode of the flight of Tokiwa through the snow has been the subject of innumerable pictures and of at least one famous poem. Tokiwa was saved from death from cold and starvation by a kindly soldier of the Taira clan. who. meeting her in her wander ings, gave her shelter and shared his rations with her and her children. But Kiyomori, baffled in his search, seized her mother, judg ing that filial affection would outweigh both the maternal instinct and that of self - preservation. In this he judged truly ; and Tokiwa, learning the state of affairs, gave up herself and her children to save her mother. Hereupon happened the most romantic thing possible ; for Kiyomori fell in love with Tokiwa, who became his consort, thus saving, not only her mother, but her children from the death that seemed certainly to await them; for it had been Kiyomori's design to exterminate her family and so secure himself against any possible turn of fortune in favour of his rivals. But he did not wholly neglect precautions even now. Yoshitsune and his brothers were kept for some years under close watch, and then were sent away to a Buddhist monastery to be trained as priests. The two elder brothers became priests in due course, and so remained ; but not so Yoshitsune. He grew strong and most extraordinarily active, though he always remained of short stature. The dull life of the monastery he rejected utterly, and enlivened it by many wild pranks ; and through it all he formed his purpose of becoming a warrior like his father. Ever}' manly exercise he practised incessantly, and his swordsmanship became so wonderful that it gave rise to one of the most famous of the legends attached to his name—that he was taught by the Tengu. The Tengu were fabled monsters living in woods and wild places, half man, half bird, some having human faces with enormous noses, others having beaks. The king of the Tengu is always shown with a long white beard, and many humorous and semi humorous Japanese pictures depict his superintendence of Yoshi- tsune's lessons in fencing. The design on the first page of this article is a sketch of this