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although it may very likely demand time. Still every new outlet for our manufactures is so much gained. We believe, however, that the Americans have already discovered the fallaciousness of their hopes as to the immediate extension of the trade with Japan, and we cannot do better than conclude our notice with an extract from a valuable paper by Mr. S. W. Williams, interpreter to the American expedition :
There is much exaggeration, doubtless, in the minds of many persons in the United States as to the wealth, population, resources, and civilisation of the Japanese, in all of which points they have been generally rated higher than the Chinese, in proportion to the extent of their country. Further examination will show that the trade with them is to grow slowly, and only after they and their foreign customers have learned each others' wants, and the rates at which they can be supplied. They have yet to acquire a taste for foreign commodities, and ascertain how they are to pay for them; and their rulers may interpose restrictions, until they see what course the trade will take, and how the experiment of opening the country to foreigners is likely to effect their own political position. The intercourse, it is to be hoped, will be conducted amicably, even if the first adventures should not prove to be very profitable.
In conclusion, we are sorry to announce by the latest advices that the cholera has broken out with great severity at Jeddo, and that the superstitious Japanese have ascribed the scourge to the fact of their wells being poisoned. Such a belief may have a most dangerous effect, and lead to terrible consequences. Let us hope, therefore, that the good sense of the Europeans will soon dissipate the foolish belief, as it would be indeed lamentable were this most recent victory of ours to be stained with blood. Hitherto, all has gone on so quietly in Japan that we should much regret were the fanaticism of the natives to compel the Europeans to have recourse to arms, even in self-defence.
TENTS AND TENT-LIFE.* CAPTAIN RHODES gives a succinct description of almost all the different kinds of tents in use, but he does not, in our opinion, give any adequate idea of the pains and penalties, or, on the other side, of the charms and comforts, which, according to time, season, and place, are attendant upon tent-life. He quotes Niebuhr, Stephens, Lamartine, Clarke, and Burckhardt for descriptions of Arab tents; Morier and Francklin for Persian tents; Tod and Wilks for Hindostan tents; and Gerbillon for Mantchu-Tatar and Bell for Calmuk-Tatar tents. He takes us to the bark and skin-tents of the Samoyedes, Ostyaks, Mongols, Buraets, Khalkas, and Tuski. He endeavours to make us as familiar with the huts of the Hottentot as with the wigwams of the Esquimaux and the American Indians, down to the most wretched of all habitations - the hut of the Fuegian.
But life in the tent can only be contained in the experiences of the traveller, not the descriptions of so many poles, laths, or whalebones, so much goat's-hair, canvas, or skin; and more of the one, with less of the other, would, we think, have made a more pleasing and readable volume.
* Tents and Tent-Life, from the Earliest Ages to the Present Time. To which is added the Practice of Encamping an Army in Ancient and Modern Times. By Godfrey Rhodes, Captain of H.M.'s 94th Regiment. Smith, Elder, and Co.
We have dwelt alike in ordnance-tent and marquee, in Turk travellingtents of bright coloured hues, and the dark roomy patriarchal tents of goat's-hair, among Arabs, Turkomans, and Kurds; we have lingered in the encampments of the Eeliants, and smoked in the gaudy pavilions of the Tajiks of Persia ; we have had to seek refuge in tents pitched on heated marshy spots when the walls were covered with creeping things; and we have slumbered in tents where there was naught but the aromatic flavour of the herbs of the wilderness. Tent-life has many contrasts. We should have liked a page or two of Crimean experiences. All we can say is, that to us the charms so far exceeded the discomforts, that we never quitted tent-life and exchanged a pastoral existence for the life of cities and of social conventions but we regretted it deeply.
Captain Rhodes describes the tents of the Turks from personal observation, having served in that country during the late war. It appears from these descriptions that the tents used by the pashas in the TurcoEgyptian campaigns were far more luxurious—more pavilion-like-than those described by the captain as used by Omar Pasha and his generals. They had not only inner walls, but inner passages going right round, and kept cool by water sprinkled on the earth. Nor were the interior walls lined with dark blue cotton, but with light chintzes or gay-coloured silks and satins. The Turks appear to have been désorientés, in the two senses of the word, when in Europe.
The instructions delivered by the great law-giver to the Israelites for setting up the tabernacle, or sacred tent, were to the following effect : “ And thou shalt make a covering for the tent of rams’-skins dyed red, and a covering above of badgers'-skins." Upon this, Captain Rhodes remarks that the badger does not inhabit Arabia, and that tahash probably meant a fish whose skin is like the wild-goat. This absurd notion is borrowed from Colonel Hamilton Smith, who says that badger is a misinterpretation of tachash, since the badger is not found in Southern Asia, and has not as yet been noticed out of Europe. This is, however, a great mistake, and although it by no means shows that the skins of badgers were so common as to be used with other skins (oroth) for the covering of primeval tents, still badgers abound in the wooded and hilly districts of Western Asia, in Taurus, Amanus, Lebanon, and Kurdistan. The writer of this notice kept one alive for many months at Mosul.
Captain Rhodes describes the skin-tents of the Tuski from Hooper's interesting work. We wish he had dwelt more on the simple means by which these people manage to keep up a temperature of from 90 deg. to 100 deg. of Fahr. in an Arctic winter. The fact has long struck us as not having hitherto attracted the attention that it merits.
Captain Rhodes's work is, in reality, one essentially of practical importance. The description of tents and tent-life in various countries may be looked upon as introductory to the descriptions of certain improvements in the construction of tents proposed by the gallant writer. They comprise field-tents, hospital-tents, and “guard-tents," as he calls a newly invented “ tente d’abri.” All the appliances of modern art and science are brought to bear upon the development of the proposed improvements, and we cannot but most strongly urge the consideration of them
upon all military men. Our short-comings were great in the last campaign, and many improvements are still wanting more especially in India.
FAINT HEART NEVER WON FAIR LADY.
A MODERN STORY.
BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.
THE TRACK RECOVERED.
The week went by which Monsieur Perrotin had promised to wait, but no tidings came to him of either Rachel or Walter. `In their stead, however, appeared Monsieur Vermeil, who brought happiness to his own household in the person of Jules, whom he had discovered at Vernon ; not by his own sagacity, but through a letter from the mayor of that place, when the discriminating functionary came to know to whom Jules belonged. It was not, of course, unadulterated happiness, for Walter was dear to them all, and absence had not yet effaced his memory from the mind of the susceptible Cécile, who shed as many tears when her brother came back without him as had fallen from her bright eyes when they took their departure together. Whether or not she became comforted, after the old Ephesian fashion, may, perhaps, be ascertained hereafter. In the mean time this history occupies itself with the more serious purpose Monsieur Perrotin.
While a mystery still hung over Walter's fate, which even the police of Paris had not yet been able to unravel, the Teacher of Languages felt that he could render little service in attempting to perform their office. He was distracted also by Rachel's silence, and therefore determined to carry out his original intention of following her to‘England without any further delay. His friend Vermeil promised faithfully to communicate whatever might transpire having relation to Walter, and once more Monsieur Perrotin committed himself to the mercy of the winds and waves. Of the inconvenience-to speak mildly-which they caused him, Monsieur Perrotin heeded little: the Past and the Future so completely filled his thoughts that there was no room in them for the Present. On his first visit to England he had accidentally become acquainted with Walter's father, and since that day the fortunes of the son had been entirely identified with his own; a mere casual encounter, a kind word by chance, had given colour to the events of a whole life! But why wonder at this, Monsieur Perrotin? It is the abiding law of our existence. We prepare many things de longue main, and think ourselves wise when they happen to come to pass; but of the wisdom which ordains that unprepared things shall rule our destiny we think very little, though in that concealment lies the principle of all our joys or sorrows.
It was, of course, to “ Piccadilly's White Bear”-as Monsieur Perrotin always called his friend's hotel-that the Teacher of Languages proceeded immediately he arrived in London.
“ To think of seein' you, of all people!" exclaimed Mr. William Par
tridge, before the other could open his lips. “What! come to look after your pretty wife? Afraid somebody's run away with her, I dussay! That's about it, musseer, ain't it? Hallo, though, you've somethin' the matter! What's gone wrong, musseer? 'I hope no harm's happened to none of the family!"
“Ah, my good friend Williamms,” replied Monsieur Perrotin, sadly, “I am in a great many troubles.”
“Has money anythin' to do with 'em ?” asked Mr. Partridge; “ if so, never let that worrit you!"
Monsieur Perrotin squeezed his friend's hand as he reassured him on this point. He then entered into the details of his melancholy narrative, with a lingering hope, towards its close, that Mr. Partridge might be able to give him some later news of his wife; but the host of the White Bear shook his head.
“ Mrs. P. and me,” he said, “ was a wonderin' to ourselves only yesterday, how it was that we'd never had no news of madam since she left London, though she kindly promised to write, and would have done it, I'm sure, if not in someways pervented.”. “ For
you must know, musseer,” chimed in Mrs. Partridge, “ that the object of her journey is no secret to us, and a more painfuller story was never told. I've cried over it in this very parlour till I wasn't fit to show myself at the bar when wanted.”
“ Alas! madame !" said Monsieur Perrotin, “what the namesake of your good husband, the divine Williamms, observe, is only too true:
Never can we know when is the worst !" Always I am fearing some still more bad accident shall arrive!”
“Come, come!” said Mr. Partridge, cheerily, “don't look down, musseer. You know what the song says: “There's a good time comin',
' --for everybody, in my opinion. We oughtn't for to go and make ourselves miserable as long as we don't know that the worst as can be ain't happened."
"But the poor stabbed boy, and this of my wife's unexplained silence. "
“Look here, musseer,” returned Mr. Partridge ; “ I've been a turnin' over all you've said in my mind, and as far as the young gentleman is concerned, I don't believe things is quite so bad as you fancy. The two villians which is took up-leastways one of 'em-owns to having stuck Master Walter, and left him behind in that there forest of what's-hisname, when they carried off the young French chap. Now you say the Johnnydarms, which answers, I suppose, to The Force over here, can't find no traces of the body. Don't it stand to reason, then, that he can't be dead; for if he was, there he'd have laid till they found him. No! Take my word for it he'll turn up again! Then about madam. All I'm afraid of in that quarter is, that she may have took a fever or a illness of some sort, and so have incapaciated herself from writing.
"I fear that,” said Monsieur Perrotin, in a husky voice. “To be ill -dying, perhaps ! Ah, that is terrible !"
“There you are, musseer, jumpin' off the rails again. Every illness supposing madam is ill, which is quite conjectory-ain't mortal
, Mrs. P. can tell
you herself what she went through with the Titus—how her very tongue turned as black as a parrit's—they even laid her out, and yet there she is a sitting on her chair as healthy as you are yourself; I'm
sure, to look at her, you'd never think she'd had so much as a pain in her little finger !"
This picture of a possible event was not very consolatory to Monsieur Perrotin, modified as its shadows were by the chance of recovery, and he replied :
“But, whether or not, so it is my desire, equally as my duty, to pursue my poor wife. Never shall I have rest till I bring her at me!”
Mr. Partridge admitted that this anxiety was only reasonable.
“ And I'll tell you what,” he added, " if you've no objection to my company, I'll go down into Yorkshire with you. It ain't every one in them parts as could make out all you say, musseer, and your chance of making them out would be as bad, or perhaps worse : now I'm not a scholar, though I often think I might have been if I'd kep' up the French you used to teach me, but I've an English tongue in my head and English ears on to it, and a man as has had five-and-twenty years' experience in my line, waiter and master, ain't easily put down ; so, as said before, musseer, you must take me along with you!"
This proposal was too advantageous to be refused, and, on the evening of the following day, Monsieur Perrotin and his friend put up at the Briggate Inn, at Barnard Castle, where Rachel herself had stopped. Being of an eminently social disposition, Mr. Partridge very soon made friends with the landlady and her handsome daughter, and gathered from them all they knew about her whom they called “ť strange lady.” But all the information they were able to give stopped short at a point which left matters almost as bad as Monsieur Perrotin had feared—the unaccountable disappearance of Rachel rendering her fate to the full as mysterious as that in which Walter was involved. In the course of conversation, however, the scene in the dark, when Rachel discovered Matthew Yates, was described by Phillis, and at the mention of the Keeper's name, a light broke in on Monsieur Perrotin. To whom but to that man could he ascribe the evil, whatever it really was, that had befallen his wife ? He too well remembered her terror, and the threats which Yates had uttered in his own hearing, not to apprehend danger from such a ruffian if opportunity favoured his designs.
While he was earnestly explaining his ideas to Mr. Partridge, before they separated for the night, a loud noise was heard outside as of people quarrelling, and presently the inn door flew open, and a man fell staggering backwards on the floor, closely followed by another, who had apparently given the first a knock-down blow.
Phillis jumped up, screaming. “What's o' thee, Geordy,” she cried, recognising her lover in the last comer. “Art fighting, lad ?”
“No, lass,” replied Geordy Walker, “not that. I was coming up here fro’t market, and this drunken chap set on me all of a sudden, so just to save myseľ I gave him a topper."
“Put him out again into t' street, lad,” said Phillis's mother.
Geordy stooped to lift the fallen man, but it was no easy task, for he was insensible, as well from drink as from the effects of the blow he had received, and in trying to raise him, Phillis, who kept close to her lover, recognised the features of the countryman, Loll, who was a frequent hanger-on at the inn.
“Stay, Geordy,” she said, “ don't put him out that gate. I'm think