The toll-keepers : and other stories for the young

By Benjamin Clarke

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The toll-keepers
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The toll-keepers
        and other stories for the young

Author: Benjamin Clarke


        
Release date: May 21, 2026 [eBook #78722]

Language: English

Original publication: Edinburgh: W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1871

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78722

Credits: The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the National Library of Scotland (NLS). )


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOLL-KEEPERS ***




[Illustration]




                                    THE
                               TOLL-KEEPERS
                                 AND OTHER
                          _STORIES FOR THE YOUNG_

                                    BY
                              BENJAMIN CLARKE
              AUTHOR OF “MY FIRST AND LAST VOYAGE,” ETC. ETC.

                              [Illustration]

                                 EDINBURGH
                       W. P. NIMMO, HAY, & MITCHELL




CONTENTS.


                                         PAGE

    THE TOLL-KEEPERS,                       5

    CHIPS FROM A NAVAL OFFICER’S LOG,      11

    A SHORT ACCOUNT OF GIBRALTAR,          15

    A GENEROUS ENEMY,                      21

    THIRSTY JACK,                          25

    A VISIT TO MALTA,                      29

    THE FAT CAPTAIN,                       33

    A CONVICT STORY,                       37

    THE LITTER OF PUPS,                    43

    ABOUT FISHING,                         49

    AN ANIMAL THAT HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS,   55

    CHARLEY FORDER AND HIS SISTERS,        61

    MY GRANDFATHER,                        69

    THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL,               76

    MY FIRST BEAR,                         84

    THE PLOT DISCOVERED,                   90

_The “Chips from a Naval Officer’s Log” are all strictly true, having
been related to the Writer by officers who bore witness to the truth of
their statements._

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE TOLL-KEEPERS.


Bushgrove farm-house was a right snug homestead, and the farm-yard,
and the rick-yard, and the out-buildings said very plainly that Farmer
Cousens was a well-to-do man. To spend one fine summer’s day at Bushgrove
would furnish you children with enough to talk about for a month. There
would be something to suit the tastes of all of you. Some of the boys
would make for the stable at once, and very likely would get a chance of
a ride in one of the carts to some part of the farm; others would venture
up in the loft above, and perform some daring somersaults on the soft
hay; some of the girls would get permission to feed the poultry, and
be delighted when the different sorts came half running, half flying at
the sight of the well-known bowl; others would only be too glad to help
Mrs Cousens in the house, especially if they were entrusted with the
important duty of going up to the apple room and selecting the nicest,
rosiest apples for the pie. But none, either of the boys or girls, would
be far away when the cows were milked just before tea, for a draught of
new milk warm from the cow is a treat that Londoners do not easily forget.

I will undertake, however, to say that not one of you when thinking over
your day’s pleasure, but would decide that the most enjoyable part of
your visit was your introduction to little Sophy and Nelly Cousens.

Oh! their father would not think much of his farm or his ricks if he
had not these little rogues about him, and their mother would consider
Bushgrove a very dismal home without these little feet trotting about it:
it was hard to say who was the farmer’s favourite. Sophy was the elder
and the prettier, so strangers said, but “Bless you,” he would say,
“folks may talk, but they won’t persuade me which is the prettier, for I
don’t want to know: ’tis just like this with cows—some like ’em all roan,
others like ’em spotted, but Betty doesn’t care which way ’tis as long
as they are quiet and well-behaved when she milks ’em; so I say, as long
as the dear children are good, what’s the use of comparing ’em feature
by feature?” But friends could not help comparing their manner. Nelly,
though only four,—more than a year younger than her sister—was by far the
sturdier child, and far less shy and bashful. She would hold up her dear
honest face for any one to kiss that spoke kindly to her, while Sophy
needed to be persuaded that you loved her before she would raise her
drooping eyes, much less her plump cheeks.

Now Farmer Cousens used to grumble—all farmers have some cause, they
say; and his was, that he could not take his corn, or his hay, or his
vegetables to market without paying a heavy toll. But when most inclined
to complain, he would think of the other toll gate nearer home, and then
his face would lighten up with a smile.

I wonder who kept that other gate, and what the toll was for passing
through.

It was very strictly kept by two little keepers, who were very partial
indeed in deciding who were to pay, and who were to go free; and, strange
to say, those they loved best had to pay the most. Why, they let their
toll gate take care of itself till just as they knew their father would
be coming home; then they would take up their places—Sophy on her feet,
ready to catch him if he should try to run through; and Nelly sitting up
on the bars, to get a ride when the gate was opened, as well as her toll.
Sometimes her father pretended he could not open it with such a great
heavy weight on it, but she was not to be done in that way. If anything
delayed him longer than usual, Sophy would soon begin to get anxious
and fear he would not come before it was time for her to go to bed,
but little Nelly rested her heels on the bar, and planted her hands so
firmly, as much as to say, “Here I sit till he does come.”

All right, Sophy; cheer up, little woman; I hear old Bob’s steady trot,
your father is coming, and you won’t care about our society just now;
so good-bye both of you, and save some kisses for us when we next go
through—we shall want lots of change for our money.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CHIPS FROM A NAVAL OFFICER’S LOG.


I hardly know whether I ought to call the short story I am going to tell
you “a chip” from my log, or not; for this reason, that it did not occur
in my own experience, but was related to me. However, like all my other
chips, you may rely on its truth. I can vouch for the fact that I am
going to mention, and you may rely on whatever you find in my log, for
old sailors have seen too many wonderful things that have really happened
to go out of their way to take in their listeners by trying to impose
upon them.

If you want wonderful things that never happened; if you want frightful
scenes that never could have occurred; if you want battles written by
people that scarcely know the stem from the stern of a ship; that know
nothing of the Queen’s service, and precious little of the Queen’s
English, then you must go to “Admiral Dick; or, the Death Calm;” or,
“Stick-at-nothing Tom; or, the Gory Capstan,” or some such rubbish as
you see advertised, and alas! see read. Now, I won’t say more about this
now, except that the boys and girls who care for my chips, and take any
interest in them, will find them truthful and harmless, neither of which
qualities do those exciting and absurd tales possess.

Well, when I was serving in the “Conqueror” frigate, there was a
midshipman who was a Turk by birth. He was the only Turk I ever knew in
Her Majesty’s service; but this youngster was not a bad sort of a fellow
in his way. ’Twas from him I heard this short story, with which he was
personally familiar. In a former ship in which he sailed, there was a
passenger who had made some money as a milkman at Constantinople, which
he kept in a bag in his cabin, and was very fond of retiring there and
counting it over. Now, the captain had a pet monkey that used to watch
this man, and seeing him so often going to this bag, he thought there
must be something in it worth examining; so one day he watched his
opportunity, ran into the man’s cabin, seized the bag, and climbed with
it up to the mainsail-yard. The man soon missed his bag, and soon found
out where it was gone, for the monkey began taking out the gold coins,
and throwing them alternately on the deck and into the sea.

Those that fell on the deck the poor man greedily picked up, but the half
of them that went overboard, of course, were lost. He did not intend
putting up with his loss so quietly, for he held the captain responsible,
as it was his monkey that had robbed him.

Nothing could be done until the vessel got into port, when the man had
the captain brought before the Kadi, or magistrate, to recover the value
of the coins lost.

“You were a milkman?” said the Kadi.

“I was, sir,” replied the man.

“And, pray, will you tell me how much water you used to put with your
milk?”

The man was much confused, and replied, he would rather not tell; but as
he saw the magistrate was determined to know, he at last confessed he
used to mix one-half.

“Very well, then,” said the Kadi, “it appears to me that only one-half of
what you earned was honestly yours. You have got, therefore, all that was
your due, and this monkey has only thrown _into_ the water the amount of
profit you dishonestly got _out of_ the water.”

Thus, judgment was given against the man, and every one but he felt how
just it was.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




A SHORT ACCOUNT OF GIBRALTAR.

FROM NOTES OF A PERSONAL VISIT.


The rock, the town, the bay, and the strait of Gibraltar lie, as you
know, at the southern extremity of Spain, but I dare say if you have been
at all interested in the place, you have fallen into the same mistake
that many have who are older than you. They have thought the town was
near the mouth of the strait which its artillery is supposed to command.

But this is not the case, the town is more than twenty miles from the
Atlantic, and its guns, instead of pointing southward to the straits,
which are here no less than fifteen miles across, point towards the bay
on the west, where alone it is accessible, and to the Spanish mainland on
the north.

Looking at Gibraltar from the sea, it is indeed a grand sight. The
rock is formed of marble and limestone, and rises to three points,
the loftiest of which, Sugar Loaf Point, is 1439 feet from the sea.
Europa Point is on the south, and here, on an oval platform, stands the
governor’s cottage.

One of the most dreadful tragedies I ever heard of in the way of duelling
came off at Europa Point. One evening an American officer was going
through the guard-room—where were a number of English officers—on the way
to his ship, when as he passed he overheard the Englishmen mention, in no
insulting manner, the word “Yankee.” He returned, boiling over with rage,
and told them they should repent the insult, which they declared was
never intended. However, the American returned next day with a challenge
from as many officers of his ship as there were English officers of our
army in the guard-room, to fight duels.

The English took up the challenge, but stipulated that they would none of
them fight with Americans of inferior rank. This threw out some of the
Americans, so that then there were more English than necessary, and they
arranged amongst themselves that no married men, but only single ones,
should go forth to this mad encounter. The morning came, and at Europa
Point there stood up in deadly combat four English against four American
officers, of whom two were killed and three or four wounded. Now I cannot
be quite exact as to the number; I know however I am rather under the
mark than over—but the main incident I had from most reliable authority
at Gibraltar.

On landing, one is disappointed with the town itself, which is
situated at the base of the rock. It is a miserable place, with small
dirty-looking houses and straggling irregular streets. The inhabitants
themselves—some 20,000 of them—are not very attractive, such a mixture
of English, Spanish, Moors, and Turks, with but little in the fair sex
to warrant their being called so. But if you are not struck with the
beauty of the people, you will be with the strength of the place. All the
descriptions you may have read will not prepare you for the reality, so
that I do not expect my account of it will bring you much nearer. I will
merely say, therefore, that there are four or five tiers of galleries
rising one above another on one side of the rock, in which are placed
guns of immense power and weight. Smaller batteries are placed in every
possible direction, and altogether there can be stowed away ammunition
and provisions sufficient for a very long siege. Ordinarily, there are
about seven thousand soldiers on the rock, of whom about three thousand
belong to the artillery, but these are not enough to work all the guns,
so that in case of war many more would be sent out.

Ah! in case of war; that reminds us that it has often been the scene of
warfare, and perhaps a short sketch of its past history would not be
uninteresting to our young readers.

When William III. assisted Charles III. of Spain against Philip V. it was
agreed that Gibraltar was to be given to England, but as the agreement
was not kept, and Gibraltar was not handed over to us, Sir G. Rooke took
forcible possession of it in the year 1704. An attempt was made by the
Spaniards to recover it, but it was formally ceded to us in July 1713.

In the year 1779, during the war with America, Gibraltar was blockaded by
the French and Spanish squadrons. The garrison, under Governor-General
Elliott, made a brave resistance, but was subject to great privations
by reason of the provisions running scarce through the long siege. At
last a vessel hove in sight which proved to be the forerunner of Admiral
Rodney’s squadron of twenty ships, who, having defeated the enemy, came
to the relief of the garrison.

Since then the Spaniards have often desired to be again in possession of
Gibraltar, and have made some attempts, but always unsuccessful. They now
see the value and importance of it, and so do we. It is the key to the
Mediterranean, and though England has a good many keys on her bunch, she
is not likely to give up this one.

And now with an anecdote nearer our own time, I must close. You know
that William IV. was in the navy when young, and once, when he was a
midshipman, he served under Admiral Digby in the _Prince George_.

When the Spanish Admiral Langara was a prisoner of the English, he
visited Admiral Digby, and was introduced to His Royal Highness, who
retired during the conference, but reappeared at its conclusion as the
midshipman on duty, respectfully informing the Spanish Admiral that the
boat was manned ready for him. “Well does Great Britain merit the empire
of the sea,” exclaimed the Spaniard, “when the humblest stations in her
navy are occupied by princes of the blood.”

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




A GENEROUS ENEMY.


In 1815 I was a “younker,” or midshipman, on board His Majesty’s ship
“Swinger,” a twelve-gun brig.

I remember one day, soon after we left Surinam, our captain hobbled upon
deck—for he had a wooden leg—and as his custom was, he stood up near one
of the guns, and looked over the ship’s side.

“Beat to quarters,” shouted the captain; and sure enough ’twas no false
alarm, for bearing right down upon us was a ship much larger than our
own, which we soon made out to be an American. Nothing daunted by her
size or her superior armament, and consequently larger ship’s company,
we prepared for action, and soon gave the enemy a taste of our metal.
Nothing could have been better than the manner in which our guns were
served, for although we had but sixty men and boys, and twelve guns,
whilst the enemy had 145 men and boys, and fifteen guns, we kept up a
galling fire for two hours and a-half, until the American, finding she
had had as much as she cared for, and not wanting a closer acquaintance,
made off and left us.

We gave chase for the remainder of the day, but as she was a much faster
ship than ours she made good her escape.

Soon after, we returned to Surinam; but on the way we painted our ports,
so that we were not at first recognised.

I had better explain that when we left we were painted entirely black,
but on our return we were black and white, something like a chess-board.

When we asked “what news,” we were told that a little black brig, that
had recently left, had been licked by an American. We had a good laugh,
of course, and we were able to give a much better account of the little
black brig than that.

Well, six years after, in 1821, a friend of mine was in the West Indies,
and was thrown into contact with the captain of the American vessel that
encountered the “Swinger.” He often spoke of the engagement, and declared
“he would give anything to see her captain, for he was the smartest man
he’d ever came across.”

“Why,” said my friend, “the officer who commanded the ‘Swinger’ is now
here, and is an old friend of mine. I shall be delighted to introduce
you.”

Accordingly it was arranged, and a friendly meeting took place between
the two former enemies. The American rushed up to his old opponent, and
shook him by the hand in such a hearty manner, that it was some minutes
before he relinquished his grasp. “I’m delighted to see you, sir,” he
said; “you’re the cleverest man I ever saw, by a long chalk. Why, I
expected to chaw you up in about half-an-hour, and instead of that, in
about two you gave me such a walloping that I ran into port and didn’t
venture out again. We had nine killed and fifteen wounded; how many had
you?”

“Only five killed and wounded.”

“Well done! give us your hand again, captain!”

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THIRSTY JACK.


This little story I am going to tell you is a very small chip, so small,
indeed, that it might be almost called a shaving, but it comes into my
mind just now, and is such a trifling occurrence, that unless I tell you
now I may forget it at another time. It will just do to fill up a spare
moment or two while your candle is being got ready for bed, or after you
have finished your dinner, and have a minute to spare, or while you are
waiting to be attended to in a shop.

It is about Jack Fraser, one of our lieutenants in the ——. Well, on
second thoughts, I won’t tell you the name of the ship, or some of my
fair young friends may be ingenious enough to look through old Navy
Lists, and by seeing when my ship was at the station I am going to
mention, may discover that I must be getting very old, whereas I want
you all to fancy I’m very young. At all events, though my timbers are
creaking, and my skylights getting dim, and my figure-head rather grey, I
am still fond of boys and girls, and like to have them about me.

Well, about Jack Fraser. We were at Jamaica, which is, as you know,
rather a warm climate. Fraser was what they call “a thirsty soul,” that
is, one very fond of his glass; not his spyglass for looking abroad,
or his looking-glass for looking at home, but his wine glass and
grog-tumbler. He had always some excuse, though I can’t call it a reason.
When here, he used to say it was so hot we could only keep cool by
drinking; when farther north in colder climates, he declared the only way
to keep warm was by drinking; and when on any home station on half-pay,
he used to say that this was such a wretched climate that he could only
keep off “the blues” by his glass regular. I always think when I hear any
one finding excuses like this for drinking, that he is rather ashamed of
it himself, and that he indulges far more than is generally supposed.

Well, one afternoon he went ashore at Port Royal, and had not returned
when we all turned in, and when all lights were turned out. By and by
Jack came on board and began fumbling about for something to drink. The
steward had retired, so he knew he could not get supplied. My cabin
opened in the mess-room, so I heard him talking to himself about his
misfortune in being so thirsty and in not getting anything to drink.
Presently I found out he had discovered some, which he soon drank off,
for in a few seconds I heard such a spitting and spluttering that I
laughed right out, for I at once guessed what had happened. He had got
hold of the jug which contained a decoction for enticing mosquitoes and
other insects to it, and which had done its work pretty well that day. It
was this liquid Fraser had drunk, and it was these mosquitoes that he had
spit out, except such as had been swallowed past recovery.

I wish this had taught him a lesson; but this bad habit, even more
than others, though it may receive many checks, is with the greatest
difficulty given up.

Take care, young friends, that you do not form them.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




A VISIT TO MALTA.


The view of Malta did not quite equal my expectations, though
the I harbour certainly is very fine, and the number of gay and
picturesque-looking boats makes it a lively scene. The fortifications are
of great extent, but so different from Gibraltar, being all artificial.
I need hardly say that Malta is an island in the Mediterranean, between
Africa and Sicily, but perhaps it may be necessary to mention that it is
about 20 miles long by 12 broad.

By the way, Malta is not unlike some human beings—naturally barren and of
no use, but by culture and application and diligence, and with help from
others, how very fertile they become?

This reflection occupies us whilst we row to land—there to see for
ourselves the places of note. The streets are very curious, being large
flights of steps leading up from the sea into the town. The church of
St John and the governor’s house are well worth seeing; but one of the
finest modern buildings is the Hospital, on the left hand side of the
entrance to the town. The hotels and shops are very good, that is, you
can get what you require, but then you have to pay rather dearly; perhaps
the people think that persons going to the East must make all their
purchases here, as it is the last European place at which the steamers
stop, and that persons coming from the East are only too glad to prepare
here for the colder climate they will encounter before they finish their
journey, and so do not much mind what they pay for things. The population
is somewhat over 125,000, and as most of the inhabitants are Roman
Catholics, there is a great deal of church-going. But the bell-ringing
is enough to summon ten times the number of people to matins and
vespers;—clang, clang, ding, dong,—the noise is incessant. I am talking,
of course, of the time when I was there, but I hear that much of the
nuisance has been done away with. Then, besides the churches, there are
many monasteries, one of which I visited, and of which I will tell you,
as a very singular custom is in force there, that of baking the deceased
friars.

The monastery is one of the Capuchin order, and as soon as one of the
monks dies, his body is exposed to a dry heat; whereby the softer parts
become hardened; then he is propped up in a niche set apart for him,
and his name and history are written above. The catacombs, where all
these bodies are placed, consist of a long narrow room dimly lighted,
and filled with a faint sickly odour; on either side is a row of corpses
attired in the robes of their order, with ropes fastened round them as
waistbands. Over each niche branches of the bay tree were wreathed,
and among them the monks, with horrible ingenuity, had intertwined
garlands and festoons of skulls, thigh bones, legs, and arms. The monk
who accompanied me appeared intensely gratified and exultant over these
disgusting things, and when he pointed out one old fellow who had been
baked about a hundred years, he was in raptures.

Rather an unpleasant order to belong to! Fancy seeing your niche in the
wall that your body will fill up some day! almost as bad as the custom in
Iceland of standing the minister’s coffin in the church near the pulpit,
or as the man who bought a job lot of coffins, thinking they would be
sure to come in useful some day.

An officer of ours accompanied me, who two years ago knew one of the
monks, and on his asking for him, he was taken to a newly-filled niche,
and there shown his old friend in a state of mummyism, as he had been
dead some months.

Instead of being an order of _friars_, they should be called an order of
_bakers_.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE FAT CAPTAIN.


One of the queerest men I ever knew was Captain ——. Well, there, you
won’t be any wiser if I tell you his name. He has been dead some time,
but many of his friends are still living, so I will merely call him the
fat captain.

He was an immensely stout man, and if he wasn’t a port admiral, he was a
portly captain.

Once when his ship was in the Piræus, he gave an entertainment to some
of the principal residents at Athens, among whom were many ladies. They
spent a merry evening on board the ship, and when it was time for the
party to break up, the captain called aside the first lieutenant, who was
a very small man indeed, by the way, and told him that when the boats
were putting off from the ship he would fall into the water, and asked
the lieutenant if he would mind jumping in after him. The latter, quite
appreciating the joke, readily consented, for both could swim; and they
waited to carry out their intention.

But the gunner had overheard the conversation, and knew what was going to
take place.

Now this man was a great favourite on board, especially with the captain,
with whom he had sailed six years. He was the handiest man imaginable,
and could do anything, even to repairing any watches that might be out of
order. His readiness and willingness gave him a certain position which
made him rather saucy.

When he heard of the captain’s intended joke, he thought some fun might
be made out of it, and so he went below and told all the men of it.

At length the party was ready to go. It was a lovely night; the moon
shone on the still blue water, and the ladies were looking forward to a
pleasant row to land.

Just as the boats had got clear of the ship there was a sudden splash as
a body fell heavily into the water, and a cry was instantly raised, “The
captain overboard.”

Another splash! as over went the lieutenant, the ladies screaming,
greatly terrified.

No sooner was the lieutenant in the water, when splash! splash! splash!
as from every port-hole on that side of the ship plunged sailor after
sailor, who had been waiting, undressed, for the captain’s joke.

Then followed quite a scrimmage as to who should save the captain, until
the unfortunate man was being rather roughly handled in the very laudable
and extraordinarily prompt efforts, as he thought, to save his life.
When the ladies got over the fright of the supposed accident, and the
proximity of so many naked tars, they entered into the fun and enjoyed it
with the others.

I don’t know if the captain ever knew of the part the gunner had taken in
the affair, but he always continued to be a favourite with him, although
the captain frequently declared he was the greatest blackguard in the
ship.

Some time after, when the captain’s vessel was ordered home, he sent for
the gunner and told him he was going home, but wouldn’t disgrace himself
by taking such a blackguard back to England. He said he was transferred
to another ship, and handed him two letters. When he got out of the cabin
the man found that one letter contained his discharge to the admiral’s
ship, and the other a ten-pound note.

They quite understood one another, and I dare say the gunner would rather
have had his captain’s abuse than his praise. Queer fellow, wasn’t he?

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




A CONVICT STORY.


It was soon after landing at Sydney from my second voyage that I fell in
with an old friend, who was then a magistrate of the town.

After comparing notes since we had last met, he asked me to go out and
visit his family who lived in the bush, about seven miles from Sydney.
The captain of the “Tartar,” the vessel I had come out in, was to go with
me; and so we hired a gig, and drove out.

It was a wild, dreary country, sure enough, that we went over, and
a most dismal locality to reside in. Why, the nearest house was the
police-station, and that was three miles off; but, as we shall see, the
police are not at all bad neighbours in that part of the world.

We got to our journey’s end, and the first sight we saw was four gibbets
erected near the gate. We thought, perhaps, that they were the sign that
a magistrate lived there, or that they were put up, just like the old
stocks one sometimes sees on a village green, to be ready when wanted,
and to be a terror to people always; but the account that my friend gave
showed that they were erected for some real criminals.

About six weeks before this, a gentleman and his son were spending Sunday
here; and in the afternoon the young man, with my friend’s son, were
strolling about the yard, when they fancied they heard a strange noise in
an out-house.

They listened for some time, till, feeling sure they heard footsteps,
they went near, and opened the door, when immediately they found
themselves attacked by four convicts.

A desperate struggle took place, for the young men were strong, and were
not to be easily beaten; but the odds were too great, and it might have
gone very hard with them, had not the scuffle been heard in-doors.

My friend said he was sitting with his daughter in the back parlour,
when he heard a noise of heavy footfalls, with loud and laboured
breathing. They went out into the yard, the father taking his gun with
him; but, as it was getting dusk, they could see nothing.

“Who’s there?” shouted he. No answer; but he could just make out the form
of a man scrambling from the ditch, and retreating over the wall. He
fired; and then three other men retreated in like manner. The young men
quickly appeared and related how they had been attacked, and how narrowly
they had escaped strangulation, for it was their hard breathing that had
been heard in-doors.

They soon informed the police, who quickly caught the four men, and they
were hung near the scene of their crime.

I had been left with the ladies for some time, wondering where my
friend and the captain had gone; but when I came to inquire, I was
rather annoyed to find that they had gone to Sydney in the gig, as the
magistrate was sent for in a hurry, and had left word for me to remain
there for the night. I must say I did not like the idea at all.

I knew something of these convicts, what desperate fellows they were, and
thought it not unlikely that they might resent the punishment so lately
inflicted on some of their order, particularly as the gibbets reminded
them of the event, and were likely to keep alive any ill-feeling that
might exist. Besides, I knew I was the only male in the house, and that
great things would be expected of me in case of an alarm.

When I got up to my room, my first care was to fasten the door; but,
alas! there was no lock; and I could only discover a small button. I then
searched the room for some weapon, and found a gun; but this, like the
door, was without a lock. I got hold of a _whaddy_, a short, club-like
stick, heavier at one end than the other; so, placing this with the gun
near me, I jumped into bed. Then I was rather ashamed of myself for
getting at all alarmed, and so I soon went asleep. I was awoke shortly
after by the sound of heavy breathing, such as my friend had described;
and at once all the circumstances of his account came into my mind. I
sat up in bed, and heard the breathing—now dying away, now getting
louder—and also footsteps in like manner. I got out of bed, seized my
weapons, and was close to the door, feeling that a desperate encounter
was at hand. I should not care to see a sketch of myself as I then
appeared. My lower limbs were altogether unprotected, and were not very
steady; but I hope you will charitably put down any shaking there may
have been to cold rather than fear.

The footsteps were again drawing near, the breathing was more plainly
heard, and the door was gently shaken. I opened it, sprang out—shouted
“Who’s there?”—got no answer—saw no one—listened—heard the footsteps
retreating, and felt sure there were several. I then returned to my room,
and soon heard the footsteps again approaching so this time prepared for
the worst; and when I imagined they had got up to the door, I rushed
out, and confronted two as strongly-built, savage-looking _bloodhounds_
as I ever saw, which, after giving a good sniff at my legs—I, of course,
expected a bite—turned round, and kept their watch as before. My friend
had got them since the night of the attack as a protection.

Ah! it’s all very well to laugh now, but it was no laughing matter at the
time, my young friends.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE LITTER OF PUPS.


“Oh! my! what beauties!” exclaimed Jessie Barton, on coming down one
morning and finding that their dear old “Floss” had become a joyful
mother. The household was soon informed of the fact and hastened to
welcome the little strangers. Tom, who was Jessie’s brother, and two
years older, immediately had ideas of appropriation, and wanted to know
which he might have. But his father said they would not decide yet, but
had better select two that were to live, and destroy the rest. In vain
Tom urged, in vain Jessie pleaded for the innocents; Mr Barton said it
was kindness to the mother, who could not possibly do justice to the
whole litter—seven in number; and to the pups themselves, who could not
be all kept by them, but would be given away, and might fall into cruel
hands.

So five of the number were quickly immersed in a bucket, and were kept
under water by a mop until, in a few seconds, their very young life was
extinguished.

The two that were spared, were by general consent the prettiest; and when
in the course of nine days they looked out upon the world into which
they had been born, it was then considered the time had come for their
appropriation. This was a rather important matter to Tom and Jessie, to
whom they were to belong. One pup was black and tan, with rather a sharp
nose; and the other was brown with a shorter nose and more amiable look.

It so happened that the one each had fixed on was just the one the other
did not want, so that both were well pleased.

As soon as they could leave their mother the young people took the
pups under their especial charge, whilst “Floss” exercised a parental
watchfulness over them both.

Jessie had, after great deliberation, and asking the advice of all her
young friends, called her pet “Gyp,” and it must be acknowledged that
she took great care of him, and appeared very fond of him. But Gyp was
ungrateful from his earliest puppyhood; he never thought of his poor
mother when any food was going, but gobbled up as much as he possibly
could; and when he had done would even try to take a bone from his
mother’s mouth, which was perhaps all she had had. He soon resented any
interference with his freedom and liberty, and showed his mother he did
not want her to be following him about, licking his back, or trying to
keep him in any way clean. You will judge from this that “Gyp” was rather
a strong-minded and self-willed dog. He was also of a reflective turn
of mind, and as he had plenty of time hanging on his paws, he would sit
and puzzle over things that did not concern him, and try to find out the
reason for things which had puzzled older and wiser dogs than he.

There was one thing that troubled him much; he saw “Pincher” Tom’s dog,
go out with him continually, and always on half-holidays, and heard from
him what fun they had had; whilst he seldom went out, and even then was
dragged along by his mistress with a piece of red window-blind cord; so
that if he wanted to investigate anything for himself, or if he met with
other dogs whose acquaintance he might like to form, he found himself
suddenly jerked along by the neck, in a most humiliating, and sometimes
painful manner.

One afternoon, the two brothers met, and, of course, stopped and had
a chat. “Pincher” was off to the country with Tom and a number of his
school-fellows, but “Gyp” had been out with Jessie on an errand, and
was going home. He complained to his brother of his confinement, when
he suggested he should slip the cord, and make a bolt of it; but he
was unable to do it; he was nearly choked, both by the cord and with
indignation, and he returned home in a desperate frame of mind.

The next day “Gyp” was gone, and was nowhere to be found, nor did he ever
return to his native place, for soon after, the family changed houses.
Of course, Jessie missed her pet for some time; but long after she had
ceased to think much of him, he thought with sorrowful regret of the
comfortable home and kind mistress he had lost.

He soon got tired of his wandering, roving life, and found it very
unsatisfying to his appetite. Then he followed some little boys for a
day or two, who gave him some crusts, but who soon ceased to care for
him, and gave him the slip. He then attached himself to a cat’s-meat
woman, from whom he now and then got a stray piece; but some stronger dog
witnessed his good fortune and usurped his place, when the woman, finding
herself surrounded by quite a pack of hounds of various sorts, sternly
drove them all off, and never gave them as much as a skewer to pick.

One day in his hungry wanderings, “Gyp” found himself in the street in
which he had formerly lived, and seeing a board up in the garden of his
old home, he trotted up, hoping to find a notice of a reward offered for
his restoration; but it was only to the effect that the house was to let,
and the family had gone, he knew not whither.

However, they had not moved very far off; and so tired was “Gyp” of his
roving life, that he determined to hang about the neighbourhood with the
hope of getting some one to recognise him. He came across the milkman,
and wagged his weary tail against his can to attract his notice, but
he only drove him away. He loitered outside the butcher’s, hoping to
be remembered, but he was thought to have designs upon the meat on the
boards, and was driven off with a whip. At last one day he met “Pincher,”
and great was the delight of both, for Tom had gone to boarding-school,
and his dog was very dull. Of course he took “Gyp” with him to the house,
and soon brought Jessie to the door, who at once recognised her dear old
“Gyp,” in spite of his hungry and dirty condition; and what was far more
important to poor “Gyp,” received him with open arms.

He has now grown up a faithful, steady dog, and has learned the lesson
that he and others did not think necessary—that it is well when young to
be subject to control and discipline, and that at that period we do not
know what is best for ourselves.




[Illustration]




ABOUT FISHING.


How many recollections do these fishing-boats, now hauled up and lying
idle on the beach, revive!

They tell of long hours of toil, of longer hours still of weary watching
and waiting; they tell of dangers braved, of storms endured, of exposure
to cold winds and drenching spray. They suggest all the dangers of the
deep to which some of their number have succumbed, leaving widows and
orphans to mourn for—

    “Those who shall never come back to the town.”

But just now we do not want so much to dwell on the hardships and dangers
of the fisherman’s lot, as the produce of his toil and the result of his
fishing.

Those of you who have been to seaport towns have sometimes watched the
fleet of fishing-boats going out to sea.

If there is a smart breeze blowing, and the sun is shining, it is as
pretty a sight as you are likely to see; the strong heavy boats running
before the wind, and the sun lighting up their dull brown sails. They
will remain out perhaps for a day or two if the fish are scarce, but if
plentiful, they will bring in their hauls, and dispose of them at fair
prices.

Now, perhaps some of you who are fond of fish are disposed to ask why
fish is so dear, as you so seldom get any on that account. Well, the
principal fault lies with the retailer or shopkeeper: the fisherman only
receives from 3d. to 4d. a lb. for his prime fish, but those who buy it,
or the consumers, pay from 1s. to 1s. 6d. a lb. When at a watering-place
last year, we paid 2s. a lb. for soles that were caught off the coast.

Of course some allowance is to be made for the perishable nature of the
commodity, but when that has been done, it does seem that we have to pay
far too dearly for that which is so plentiful.

Besides, the facilities of conveyance are so much greater than they were
formerly. Then the trade was carried on from Yarmouth to London by light
four-horse vans, and in that way some 2000 tons were conveyed every year;
but now that quantity is sent to London by rail every fortnight.

In the fishing-grounds on the south and south-east coasts, steamers go
out to the fleets and bring up the fish very quickly to Billingsgate
every day.

The largest traffic is with fish that are taken in shoals. Off
Scarborough from seven to eight hundred tons of herrings have been taken
and sent away at one time; and on the Suffolk coast £14,000 worth of fish
were taken in a single day.

Then mackerel has its seasons, when the hauls are enormous; this fish
is much liked for its solidity, and also for its delicacy. You boys and
girls can get a good mouthful without fear of bones if you are ordinarily
careful; and you may imagine they are relished when you are told that
the consumption in London alone, every year, is 25,000,000. There is
quite a numeration sum for many of you, and very few will at all realise
what an enormous quantity those figures convey?

But perhaps of all fish, pilchards are taken in the largest quantities.
They are caught chiefly off the coast of Devon and Cornwall, and when
_marinated_ or potted are much liked. Many a nice jar of potted pilchards
do the mothers in the west of England prepare and send to different
parts; and if some of you who never tasted them, once had a jar sent you,
you would think them a fine “institution.”

The shoals are often of enormous extent; one was computed to extend
over a hundred miles, and no doubt many millions were captured. Besides
the home consumption, they are packed in oil and shipped to Italy and
different parts in the Mediterranean.

Now we wonder if the thought has entered the minds of any of you, that
with so many taken they will become by and by very scarce; and this
refers not only to pilchards, but to fish generally.

If so, you are by no means singular, for lately a Royal Commission
has considered the subject, and we believe that the supply of fish is
inexhaustible. It has been ascertained that far more fish are destroyed
by creatures of their own race than by man, that by far greater slaughter
goes on under the water than above it.

We have counted as many as fifteen or twenty small fish inside a cod,
and often as many herrings have been discovered to have been swallowed
by one of the same species. A calculation then has been made: allowing a
cod two herrings a day for seven months of the year, it was found that if
“the cod and ling caught on the Scotch coast in 1861 had been left in the
water, they would have devoured as many herrings as were caught by all
the fishermen of Scotland, and 6000 more, in the same year.”

So that you see, instead of making fish scarce by catching them, there
are actually more because of all the fishing that goes on. There is no
fear, therefore, that we shall ever exhaust the stock; and besides, the
rate of increase is so enormous. Little have you thought, perhaps,
when you were eating the roe of a herring, that you were crunching up
thousands and thousands of eggs. A single herring has been found to
contain 36,000; a mackerel half-a-million; a sole a million; a flounder a
million and a quarter; whilst a cod has been known to possess 3,400,000
eggs.

Truly these may be said to be some of the wonders of the sea, and glad
shall we be if this hurried paper leads any of our readers to study the
wisdom and goodness of God in the great deep.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




AN ANIMAL THAT HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS.


I wish some one would write a book about the ass, and show us how he
became so degenerated, and when he first got into disfavour.

Everybody knows he was an animal of great importance once, and in the
East, at the present day, he is ridden by nobles, and is well cared for.
Ah! you say, he is a very different animal from our poor ass. Of course
he is; there, he is really an elegant animal, full of spirit and of good
action; his coat is smooth, and his pace is rapid. But this only proves
our point. It is not because he is first dull and stupid that he is ill
cared for; but because he is badly treated, that he is the poor, slow,
heavy brute we find him.

Even now, we do see some first-rate animals in the shafts of
costermongers’ carts, and sometimes of gigs and other vehicles; in these
cases, their owners take an interest in them, feed them well, groom them
carefully, and oftener use the corn measure than the cudgel.

At recent donkey exhibitions there have been some fine specimens, showing
what the race is capable of; but, alas! these are only exceptions, and
only make their less fortunate fellows appear more stupid than ever.
We see what can be done with kindness with our existing stock; but if
some good specimens were brought from the East, might we not have a much
better race of donkeys? At one time in this country no doubt we had; but
then the ass was an object of religious interest; people remembered how
honoured his race had been; he was the only animal on which our Saviour
rode, the only one that ever relieved Him of any bodily fatigue and
weariness; and so he became celebrated in the early church.

The Feast of the Ass was held on the 14th January, in commemoration of
the flight into Egypt. The Holy Family was represented, the ass was led
round the town, and then taken into the church, where at the end of
the service the priest brayed three times, and the whole congregation
“hee-hawed.” A hymn was sung, and in the chorus the braying was imitated:

    “From the country of the East,
    Came this strong and handsome beast;
    This noble ass, beyond compare,
    Heavy loads and packs to bear.
    Now, seignior ass, a noble bray,
    Thy beauteous mouth, at large display;
    Abundant food our hay-lofts yield,
    And oats abundant load the field.
      Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!”

There! was not he a lucky ass?

Some of you boys are quite irreverent enough to think they were all a set
of asses together.

Well, it was certainly a queer proceeding, and one that should never have
taken place inside a church.

Why, the priest must have been the original “Vicar of Bray.”

They carried their reverence so far as to declare—and the superstition
has been handed down to our time—that the cross that we see on the back
of every ass, near the shoulders, is there because of our Saviour’s
riding on one into Jerusalem. The fact is, however, that the stripe on
the ass shows that it belongs to the same class as the zebra, which has
several of them.

This much to show that the ass was treated well at one time; and I
remember a friend drawing attention to a verse in the Bible, which proved
how different was his nature then from now.

In Proverbs xxvi. 3, it says, “A whip for the horse, a bridle for the
ass,” as if in those days it was the horse who wanted urging, and the
ass that required to be held in. How different now! not only does the
ass feel the whip, but the cudgel, rope-end, or anything that comes to
_hand_, and often the _foot_ too.

His body is a mark for stones to be aimed at, if he is grazing by the
roadside, or if he meets any one on the road he is considered fair game
to whack, in passing. With some men and boys, it is impossible to have a
stick without bringing it down upon every donkey they meet with. Some
look upon them as animated drums, made on purpose to be beaten; they do
not think there is any feeling below that rough hide.

Why, in one stage, an ass’s skin retains the impression of a black
lead pencil; and be sure that in its roughest and toughest state it is
painfully affected by a cudgel.

The fact is, the poor donkey is not well able to defend himself, as if it
were never contemplated he would be so ill-used. It was natural for him
to expect the stings of insects and the pricks of brambles, and so he is
covered with a thick coating of hair; it was likely he would come across
nettles and such things in his quest for food, and so his mouth has
been made nettle-proof; but it was never to be expected that a patient,
useful, willing, hard-working brute, should be an Ishmael among animals,
with every man’s hand against him, and so he is not furnished with any
formidable qualities. He does not even run away very rapidly from his
enemies; and as to his kicking, he does not often do that, and, when he
does, it is not a very sudden affair; but he has always credit given him
for being about to kick, and so he gets walloped in anticipation.

Men have found out that he is rather sensitive about his ears, and so the
only object of his having them, that they can see, is to furnish them
with opportunities to annoy him.

I had one once—there, now, the mere mention of the circumstance makes
some of you smile, as if it were a more ridiculous animal than a goat or
pig.

The poor donkey is looked upon as a joke; but he would not mind if jokes
were the only things cracked upon him—it is the whip and stick that he
minds most.

Some have asked, “Why a donkey prefers thistles to grass?”—“Because he’s
_an ass_.” But these playful attacks he doesn’t mind at all; he would
only like to put in a word, that he could do with more of them and fewer
kicks and blows; but that he would even prefer corn to thistles.




[Illustration]




CHARLEY FORDER AND HIS SISTERS.


Now, there are some of you boys that don’t care very much about your
sisters. You may not like to own it, and would not, perhaps, confess it
if you were asked, yet it is so; for I know you, though I have not seen
you. You don’t care to kiss them night and morning; but if they are loth
to go without this affectionate salute, then you merely put up your cheek
to be operated on, and look quite like a martyr while it is being done.
You are too grand to play with them, although they are quite willing to
let you have your own way; they would always be the horses, and let you
drive, or let you have first “turn” at any game you like to suggest.
But no; girls are such “muffs” at any sensible games; all very well for
tea-parties and skipping-ropes. They can’t give backs for leap-frog, they
have no idea of throwing a ball, and they could no more spin a top than
make one.

You don’t care to take baby out in your arms, though your sister,
perhaps, has had her all the afternoon, and is really very tired; for
though they call her “Toddles,” she has no idea of walking at present.

You don’t like even to go out to walk with your sisters, ever since the
day when you were prevented going out walking with Tom Hawkins and Harry
Wilkins, having promised your mother you would take the girls. I knew how
ashamed you felt when you met your school-fellows, and they shouted out,
“There’s a big girl! Take care of the baby, Dick!”

Now, young gentleman, I advise you to get out of these ways as soon as
possible. You are now at a very disagreeable age, and when you are a
little older you will wonder you could ever have been so “uppish.” I
don’t doubt you will get over all this nonsense when you go out in life,
and have to leave home; then you will miss the many little acts that your
eldest sister, just about your own age, used to perform.

Dressing hurriedly of a dark winter’s morning, there goes a button! Never
mind, let’s pin the shirt. Not long after, stooping down, or lifting a
heavy parcel, or something else, gives you a hint about your substitute
for a button, by a sudden prick, that makes you think of dear old Susy
and her nimble fingers.

Going errands in the snow and wet, you feel your toes uncommonly cold;
you put them up close to the fire in the shop while you are waiting to be
served, or you do the “double shuffle” with your feet over a railing or
on the pavement; but something better might be done if only Susy had your
stockings, and darned these great holes through which your toes project.

Sooner or later, boys, you would think you had been very foolish in not
having valued your sisters more. Well, never mind; they will soon forget
any little want of attention, and we will cease to remind you what
awkward customers you once were—that is, if you try and make up for it.

Ah! Charley Forder cared for his sister, I can tell you. “But who was
Charley Forder!” Well, listen.

He was the eldest child of his parents, who lived at Lingford, a small
town on the sea-coast.

His father was a sailor in the navy, and was now away on a four-years’
voyage to the Pacific. Mrs Forder had enough to do to look after her
family, and help support them, by taking in plain needle-work; but
Margaret, who was now ten years old, and a big girl for her age, was
able to help her mother in minding her younger sisters. Charley, who
was sixteen, had been a sailor boy for some two years; but his father,
wishing him to be nearer home than he was likely to be, had entered him
in the merchant service; and he was apprenticed to a firm whose vessels
called in at Lingford.

His mother was very sorry to part with Charley, as he was a real comfort
to her. He was always willing to rock the cradle, or look after little
“Puss,” as he called his second sister; and then, when all the work was
done, he would go out for a run with them on the down, or else stroll
down to the beach, and watch what was going on. He and Margaret used to
talk like grown-up people in their plans for helping their mother, for
they knew that there was only what she earned and father’s half-pay to
maintain them all.

“I tell you what ’tis, Madge, I shall leave here, and be doing something
for myself, and for you all,” said Charley, one day, on the beach.

“And so shall I, Charley; why, I’m bigger than Susan Carter, and she’s
in a place, and gets a shilling a week, and does not cost her mother
anything, ’cos her missus gives her her old clothes.”

“No, that won’t do; you must stay at home and look after the little ones,
so that mother will have more time for her work, and I’ll be off; that
will be one less to keep.”

And the matter was talked over, and a letter written to the father; and
when his consent was gained, after several months’ interval, Charley
joined a schooner that was engaged in the fruit trade, and went between
Valencia and London. The vessel was just going out for a cargo, and
it was expected she would call in at Lingford. It would be a good
opportunity for Mrs Forder to get up some clean linen for Charley, and
also something out of the way of junks of salt pork and biscuit for him
to eat. The children had the bundle of clothes and the tin of good things
in readiness on the beach, and waited for the “Stirling Castle” as she
came round the point. It was a windy day, so Margaret thoughtfully set
baby on a rock, with her back to the sea, not minding how she herself was
blown about; and little “Puss” was too intent on seeing Charley to think
of herself at all.

At last a vessel hove in sight, and neared the land, a boat put off for
the shore, with Charley in her, bearing a letter to one of the partners,
which he was to deliver, to wait an answer, and then return at once.

The lad had just time to run in to his mother and thank her for her
kindness, after embracing his sisters on the beach. Poor boy! he was
obliged to tear himself away. He tried to be merry, and told Madge she
had given him a _smack_ when she kissed him, but perhaps he should have a
_schooner_ some day; but it was with a heavy heart he left them.

That evening the fresh meat was taken with salt tears trickling down his
face, yet he felt happy when he rose from his knees and turned into his
hammock.

Good-bye, Charley—God bless you!

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




MY GRANDFATHER.


Among the pleasantest recollections of my youth are the memories of my
dear grandfather.

I have a very distinct remembrance of the satisfaction I felt when I
presented myself at church for the first time in jacket and trousers; and
a much clearer one of having discovered in the depths of the pocket of
the latter garment a fourpenny bit, than of anything the minister said
that day.

I recall my feelings on breaking up at the end of my first half, away
from heme at boarding-school. That was very jolly; and if I stopped to
relate them, I could jot down several occasions, the remembrance of which
I have never lost; but, as I said, the pleasantest recollections of my
youth are concerning my grandfather.

He lived at no great distance from us, and so we often saw him; in fact,
he made it his duty, and I am sure it was his pleasure, to come and see
us once every fortnight. If he had lived at a distance, and had only come
to us once a year, say at Christmas time, we should, of course, have been
very glad to see him; but then we should not have learned to respect or
love him as we did.

It is no very difficult thing to make one’s-self popular with youngsters,
if one brings them presents; and especially at Christmas, when most
people’s hearts are more than usual kindly disposed; so that if a person
could not make himself agreeable then, he must be a bear. Had grandfather
only paid us these annual visits he might, by an effort, have impressed
us very favourably even had he not been particularly fond of children;
but these frequent visits, when we saw him under varied circumstances,
sometimes under trial, sometimes in bodily pain, sometimes anxious about
some of his children or grandchildren, gave us so many opportunities of
observing that he was always the same to us youngsters. The rattle of his
stick on the railings would bring us down to the door at once, however
interestedly we were engaged; and though we were always delighted to see
him, I must say that our hearts beat with a throb of curious joy when
we noticed, as we were sure to do in a moment, that his pockets looked
at all bulky. The contents were never disclosed until after dinner; the
delay kept up our interest, and I think also it was a little generalship
on his part, as it gave him an opportunity of having forty winks whilst
we were engaged with our presents, either eating them, if they were for
consumption, or amusing ourselves with them, if they were for recreation.
After the real nap would come an assumed one. We could always tell where
the one ended and the other began by the smile that played round his
mouth as he opened one eye, and then shut it up quickly, if we were
looking. Then he was supposed to be a sleeping giant, or a grizzly bear,
and we tried to get near him and touch him, and fly off before he could
reach us. How angry he would pretend to get at our impudence; how
severely he appeared to feel our tiny slaps; what dreadful threats he
uttered, the severest of which, “seeing our noses above our chins,” was
always received by us with defiant laughter.

I need not say we ran some terrible risks until success making us very
bold, we put ourselves entirely within reach of the enemy, were fairly
caught, and were mercilessly tickled.

Then would come a more vigorous romp sometimes in the hall, at his
suggestion, lest we should disarrange the parlour too much. He was
always more than a match for us, both with his arms and legs; but in our
desperate struggles, when I would try to trip him up, and my sister to
pull him down, he would pretend to be almost conquered. This gave great
zest to the fun, and made it much more enjoyable than if he had, as he
might have done, turned us over on our backs like sailors do the turtle
on the sands; and at tea time, when we related the encounters, he took
good care to break in with some such remark as—“Ah! I must look out when
you get a little bigger,” or else rubbed his shoulder, as if by our
gigantic efforts we had nearly pulled his arm out of the socket. Though
defeated, we were never humiliated; and his sweet, amiable disposition
was seen in all his conduct. He always tried to make the most of every
one; he would always encourage, or draw out whatever was in them, unless
he met with any one very forward or conceited.

Then, after tea, before we went to bed, we gathered round him. I used
to sit on his knee until my mother declared I was too big to be nursed;
but my sister had that privilege long after she had outgrown the size at
which I had to give it up. There were some old stories and jokes that we
insisted on having every time he came; and so well did we know them that,
when, for fun, he would vary them, or omit portions, we at once detected
him, and would have the “full, true, and particular account.”

Always before he left us he would gradually get us sober; not suddenly
repressing our laughter, or jerking his face into a solemn expression,
but generally leading round the last story or subject in the direction
of religion. I can never forget the Bible stories as he told them; he
made the characters so real and lifelike by telling us of them in a
plain, simple way, and by looking at them from a child’s stand-point. We
never tired of hearing of the Good Shepherd; he made Jesus appear to us
as especially the Saviour of little children; and as he unfolded to us
the tender, pitying, gentle love of Christ, we nestled close into him,
and fancied we were indeed His lambs, and that His very arms were folding
us to His bosom.

Since then, Ethel has been welcomed into the heavenly fold by Jesus
himself; and I—well, trust I am not wandering away from Him; at all
events, I know I am nearer than I should have been had I not been blessed
with such a grandfather.

I often think of him, but especially when Christmas comes round. It was
on Christmas Day that he last visited us. We were sitting round the fire,
before the lights were lit for tea, and as usual, Ethel and I were close
to him. He was holding each of us by the hand, and, raising us, we stood
at his side. He was speaking about the Babe of Bethlehem; he said he
felt, soon, very soon, he too, like the shepherds, should see Him, though
not as they saw Him. Presently I felt a tear fall on my hand, and then
another; at length the tears fell fast, and the words stopped. Looking
up in his face, Ethel said, “Are you ill, grandpa?” “No, my child,” he
replied, “I was thinking how long I should have to wait in heaven until
the Shepherd fetched my darlings and His.”

He died before the New Year, and he had not long to wait for little Ethel.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL.


Many places there surely are in London that it would do one good to
visit—many places to which you have never been, and many more to which we
have never been together. I don’t mean peepshows, or waxworks, or places
of amusement at all; but places that are set apart for some wise, and
good, and holy objects, places where something, at all events, is done to
lessen the misery and wretchedness that everywhere surround us. One such
place is the Hospital for Sick Children, in Great Ormond Street, and if
you have never been there—I trust you never have been as an inmate—you
will be interested in tracing my steps.

My visit was a very recent one, and I may say I had you, my young
readers, in my mind as I went.

Waiting a short time in a large reception-room, I had time to observe
that the house formerly was a mansion, and I found out that a hundred
years ago men of literature and science assembled here. Here Addison and
Pope and Swift met and talked, sometimes gravely and sometimes gaily; but
now the present little inhabitants forbid one’s gaiety, at all events.
Then children’s feet ran up and down those broad oak stairs; but now the
children that pass up are borne, helpless and afflicted. Then the rich
paintings on the walls, the gilding on the ceiling, the cornices and
figures, were objects of no wonder to those who saw them so frequently;
but now they are looked upon with childish admiration, and even delight.

Ah! but the children are not left to be pleased with things they cannot
handle; for, look! did you ever see so many toys in one room, that was
not a shop? This used to be the drawing-room; but it is now hung round
with pictures of child life, and is filled with little beds, in each of
which is a poor suffering little girl.

Here they lie so patiently, so uncomplainingly—not because a stranger is
visiting them, but this is the character the nurses give them. Who shall
say how much is owing to the gratitude they bear for the comforts they
have, which they never had at home, and for the kindness with which they
are supplied? I did not hear one cry, or moan, or complaint, except from
a little fellow suffering from fits, which seemed to have confused his
mind as to the ownership of a two-horse omnibus with which another boy
was playing. The fact was, his own had been placed on one side by the
nurse as a little act of discipline.

Over each bed there is a little platform, on which are placed the
child’s toys. Some were sitting up playing with theirs. One little girl
had fallen asleep, placing the greatest confidence in a number of wild
animals that lay upon the pillow beside her; another, a tiny little thing
of three years of age, who was suffering from skin disease, sat up in her
bed looking very sad, which even the presence of three rag dolls at her
feet could not remove. Ah! perhaps had it been some of you, there would
have been something worse than a sad look—even cries or tears.

Others were sleeping sweetly, forgetful of their pain and suffering,
dreaming, perhaps, of the time when they ran and frisked about, which
some of them would never do again. For instance, here is a child, only
six years old, that has lost her leg—cut off up to the thigh, for hip
disease. Poor child, she does not even know that it is gone; but sad as
this may appear, it really shows how skillfully the doctor did his part,
and how tenderly the nurse did hers, and also how mercifully her heavenly
Father provided the chloroform that prevented her feeling any pain.

I said they all had their toys—that is, each child its own. There
are some large toys, such as a beautiful doll in a glass case and a
musical-box which shows a number of funny old figures playing various
instruments, that belong to the room. The Queen sent this last one; but
the smaller toys, that she herself bought when in Germany, and sent here,
were given to the children to play with, and to take away when they
left. Most of those who had them had gone away; still I saw two of Her
Majesty’s toys, and was glad to find they were just ordinary ones, that
would amuse any child. There was a man on a stand driving three sheep to
market, with a dog behind him. The white leather invited me to press the
bottom, but the squeak was gone; but had it been there I could not have
told you whether it was intended to be the man, or the dog, or the sheep,
making the noise. I was more successful with a bird in a cage, for here
the cage decidedly squeaked, and saved the bird the trouble.

At Christmas time there was a large Christmas tree provided, when several
former patients were invited, and the presents from the Queen and from
others were distributed.

I noticed also that Prince Alfred had sent a large lion with a woolly
mane—not so ample as it might have been, but perhaps it had been deprived
of its wool by little people who wanted a memento of this royal present.

I hear that lately the youngest prince was much pleased at having to
select a number of toys for the children; whilst two of the Princesses
have on more than one occasion sent little garments for the children made
by themselves.

But we must go upstairs to the boys’ ward, where the same order and
cleanliness and comfort are seen. The first thing that strikes me is a
rocking horse, in a worse state than any inmate, for he has lost his
head. Ah! I am glad to see that, for it tells me that the dear boys have
had many a ride on him.

But here are many poor little fellows who will not be able to ride for
a long while—some never again. Here is one that has had his leg cut off
above the knee, only a fortnight ago, and yet he is cheerful and happy,
and, I am glad to say, is getting on favourably. I asked him if he was in
pain, and he said, “Not now; but I often feel great pain in my toes at
night.” Strange as it may seem, this is borne out by others, for I have
heard of many cases of persons complaining of pains in their feet, or of
suffering from corns years after their feet, and corns too, have been
removed.

Another boy cannot move his chin from his chest, through contraction
of the muscles, caused by being burnt. Poor boy, he looks very sad and
wretched, but he, too, has his toys, and he, too, murmurs not.

I hope all these—both boys and girls—will soon get into the convalescent
ward, where there is plenty to interest them.

There are plenty of toys and plenty of books; and then two doves in a
cage, and gold fish swimming in an aquarium, and last of all a shaggy
dog—all alive. This last inmate was asleep, and so I asked the nurse if
he was convalescent too, and she told me that he liked being in that
ward. I dare say he does; he prefers the company of children who can move
about and play with him rather than of those who are in bed.

I have been over the house. I am nearly at the end of my paper. But you
would like to hear a word about the institution, and how it is supported.
About twenty years ago the first little girl was admitted, and since then
they have been able to increase their number of beds as their means have
allowed them. Now there are many more; but how few when there are so
many poor children who should be here. If my young readers would reflect
that more than 21,000 children under ten years of age die in London
every year, they would wish to do something for the hospital. Can you do
anything? Why, yes. I saw a beautiful scrap-book that had been made and
sent by a lady; some of you boys and girls could make some plainer ones.
In India, when some Hindoo girls heard about the Hospital, they sent over
several dolls dressed in Hindoo costume.

Your contributions might not be large, but you would help to cheer the
afflicted and the suffering, and you would draw down a blessing into your
own hearts while you thus ministered unto your Saviour, by ministering to
his little ones.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




MY FIRST BEAR.

[_Extracted from a Letter from a Gentleman in the Civil Service of India
to a friend in England._]


In my last letter I told you I had gone to the hills for a holiday for
the benefit of my health; and you will now be glad to hear that I am all
the better for the change. After the heat of Calcutta, the freshness
of the atmosphere here is most exhilarating, and out-of-door exercise,
instead of being irksome or fatiguing, is positively most refreshing. I
often wish you and Bessie and Fred were here, for I know you would enjoy
it immensely. We are very quiet up here; there are some nice families
resident here; then there are some of our men and a few army officers;
and though we are not gay as society is in our cities, we are not without
opportunities of recreation and pleasure.

“But I must tell you of a most amusing adventure that befel me here
shortly after my arrival, which I do all the more readily, as it was
considered quite an event for this place.

“Wanting to see if there was any shooting in the neighbourhood, I got
four natives to accompany me to a rocky and mountainous district some
few miles from here. I selected this spot, as I had heard that some time
before a bear had been seen in the woods. I furnished my guides with
guns and ammunition; and with a good stock of provender we started. The
way was enlivened by the recital, by the natives, of the daring exploits
they would perform, and of the unflinching courage which each of them
possessed. They spoke of bears and even lions with the greatest contempt,
and assured me that their experiences in shooting these wild beasts was
most extensive.

“To tell you the truth, though I had heard about the bear, I was not
very sanguine about meeting one, but I fortunately provided myself and
companions with shot suited to his capacity. I might just as well have
supplied my companions with peas—but there, I am anticipating. To come
to the point, then, at once. We really did come across the bear, or,
rather, he came across us; for whilst we were on some high rocks, one of
the natives espied Master Bruin in the woods, trotting towards us. They
all shouted at the top of their voices, in the hope of driving him off,
but seeing that he was not to be so easily diverted, they then begged me
to fire, as they very considerately said they should like me to have the
honour of killing him.

“I knew if I did not, they would not, and that perhaps Bruin might kill
some of us; so waiting till he came clear of the trees, so that I could
get a good shot at him, I fired one barrel, and struck him somewhere in
the head without killing him. It arrested his progress, however, and he
stood still.

“He was now not more than a few yards from me; between us there was a
deep ravine, which the bear could have easily cleared at a bound, but
he thought better of it; and whilst he was reflecting on what course to
take, I discharged my second barrel into his shoulder. This was enough
for him; he turned round and retired into the woods.

“Where were my companions all this time?” you ask. They were behaving
themselves in the most gallant manner. At the near approach of the bear
they showed signs of fear; and when he came to the edge of the cliff, and
seemed as if he would be on us with a bound, they all fell back in the
greatest fright. One let his gun fall from his hand, and it fell down the
ravine; two of them _fairly_, or, as I should say, _unfairly_, turned
tail and ran off; and the fourth, running backwards, fell over a bush and
performed an involuntary summersault. When they satisfied themselves that
the bear had made off, and was not likely to be seen again, they plucked
up courage to return, not at all ashamed of their cowardice. In fact, two
of them had the effrontery to say that they were running off to get a
shot at him from a point higher up on the rocks.

“However, even then they were too much afraid to show me the way up
through the valley into the wood, as the ravine was rather wider than
I cared to jump; and as it was getting late, and I was somewhat tired
(not being quite so much up to work on my legs as I used to be in the
Highlands), and I had to walk home, I was obliged to leave the issue of
my shots doubtful.

“Next morning, however, there was some excitement near the Residency,
occasioned by the bringing in of the carcass of a bear, which a party of
natives declared they had that morning killed. They hoped to get a reward
from the Resident for the destruction of an animal which might have done
so much mischief but for their timely slaughter of him; but when I made
my appearance, one of the valiant huntsmen, who was one of my brave
comrades on the day previously, was slow to prefer his claim any longer.

“The fact was, he had thought I might have killed or severely wounded the
bear, and so had gone into the woods to reconnoitre; and finding the dead
body, had brought it in with his companions rejoicing. On examining the
body I found it almost cold; so that Bruin must have retired to die after
my second shot.”

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE PLOT DISCOVERED.

AS TRUE AS IT IS WONDERFUL.


Now boys and girls, I am no spiritualist; I do not believe in
table-turning, except when some one lays a very clever snare and
falls into it, then the tables are turned on him; nor do I believe in
table-rapping, except in the method your fathers may adopt, when you are
making so much noise that they can’t hear themselves speak; then they
may sometimes rap the table with advantage. Nor do I take much notice
of dreams generally: of course, if folks will make hearty suppers of
indigestible food, they must expect to fall off the church tower, or be
pursued by a mad bull (especially if beef-steaks figured at supper),
or come into contact with robbers, once or twice in the night. But if
we are careful of ourselves, and if we are in good health we shall not
be troubled with dreams much! the mind will be active when the body is
still, but when we awake to the duties of the day, it finds scope enough
there, and soon forgets its exercise in the night.

Nevertheless there are occasions when dreams are important, when they
so vividly impress the mind as to lead to definite action from which
important results follow.

I believe, occasionally, but very rarely perhaps, that some persons are
“warned of God in a dream,” and I will give you an instance which has
never yet been made public so far as I know, but for the truth of which I
can vouch.

I have often heard the story from the mother of the master of the first
boarding-school I was at.

She was too good a woman to deceive us, and besides, the circumstances
happened to her own uncle, and were in this wise.

He was a minister in Cornwall, surrounded by wicked neighbours, who
hated him because he so constantly reproved them by his voice and
example. And so they determined to get rid of him. It was the time of
the French war, and they had him arrested for supplying the enemy with
gunpowder.

He was in gaol at Launceston, and on the night before the assizes,
a gentleman at Stonehouse, in Devonshire, who knew nothing of these
circumstances, dreamed that he must go to Launceston: he awoke his wife
and told her, but she sensibly advised him to go to sleep again. He did
so, but soon awoke, having again dreamed that he must go there. And on
his informing his wife, she suggested his going to sleep again, saying
that if there were anything in the dream, it would be repeated the third
time.

He went to sleep again; and again did he awake with the impulse, stronger
than ever, that he must go to Launceston.

While he was dressing, the thought occurred to him that he would not be
able to catch his horse, which was in a field near the house. In broad
daylight it was a matter of difficulty, and the animal was only captured
by the sight of the corn measure, and the promise of some oats at the
bottom, and not then until he had indulged in a canter or two round the
field. You may imagine that the gentleman was much surprised to find his
horse standing at the gate, waiting for him, as it were, and allowing
himself to be saddled and bridled at once. On his master rode through
Devonport, wondering to himself how at that time of night he should cross
the Tamar that separates Devon from Cornwall. The ferry had stopped for
hours; but as he was riding down to the water’s edge, he was shouted
to by a man, “Come on, sir.” The voice came from the ferryman, who was
waiting with his boat, and who asked the gentleman where his companions
were. He replied he had none. “Oh, then,” said the man, “it must have
been some drunken men who shouted to us—several of them—to bring over the
ferry. But it appears we have not come on a wild-goose chase after all;
so step in, sir.”

Once on the other side, there was no further difficulty in the way, so
that the gentleman trotted on to Launceston full of the importance of
his errand, but quite in the dark as to its purport. Nearing the town,
he overtook numbers of people, and hearing they were on their way to the
assizes, he decided on going there too.

Squeezing his way into court, he remained there for some little time an
obscure and unobserved individual; but he was soon destined to play a
very important part in a trial that had just begun. He was startled at
hearing his own name called out loudly by the crier of the court, from
which he knew he was required as a witness. He pushed forward into the
witness-box, when a number of men standing near appeared much confused,
and hurriedly left the court. On being sworn he was asked his name,
residence, and business, and then the counsel said,—

“I believe on the —— (mentioning the date) you had a large order for
gunpowder. Will you please to inform the court of the transaction.”

“I never had such an order, nor do I at all know to what these
proceedings relate,” said the gentleman in an astonished manner.

“What!” said the judge, “do you mean to say you know nothing of the
prisoner at the bar, nor of the crime with which he is charged.”

“Absolutely nothing, my lord,” was the reply.

“Then, why are you here?”

The gentleman then, in as few words as possible, related the
circumstances with which you are already familiar, when it became
apparent to all, that the prisoner had been the victim of a base and
murderous plot.

Inquiries were made for those who had instigated the trial, but they were
nowhere to be found. Doubtless they had arranged for some one to palm
himself off as a gentleman of whom the powder was bought, but the arrival
at the right moment of the real individual, frustrated all their deeply
laid plans, and saved the life of an innocent and godly man.

There, now, boys and girls, there is my tale; it is strictly true, as I
remember it told to me by the niece of the accused, except that, for the
filling up of the story, I have not given the exact words used at the
trial, as they have not been preserved, but a conversation similar to the
one that took place, when the truth was elicited.

You may make what you like of it, but I shall always hold that the dream
was no delusion, that the arrival in the court was not an accident, but
that it was the last link in the chain of God’s providence with which He
encompassed His faithful servant.

[Illustration]


                                PRINTED BY
                   MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOLL-KEEPERS ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.