Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 693

A start was, however, at last happily effected; and after innumerable delays and difficulties Bihé was reached. On this march Cameron and his followers suffered much from want of food, and he even had to sell his shirts and greatcoat to keep them from actual starvation. From here to the coast was somewhat over two hundred and fifty miles; and as the path lay through an extremely mountainous country, it presented formidable difficulties to men in such an enfeebled condition as those who composed the expedition were from long travel and weeks of semi-starvation. It was, however, absolutely necessary to press forward, and the march through Bailunda was at once commenced. The scenery of this district is spoken of by Lieutenant Cameron in the most glowing terms; 'neither poet with all the wealth of word-imagery, nor painter with almost supernatural genius, could by pen or pencil do full justice to the country of Bailunda;' 'nothing could be more lovely than this entrancing scene, this glimpse of paradise.' Little time was, however, allowed him to enjoy its beauties, as the necessity of hurrying forward before the men utterly broke down was too pressing to be trifled with.

Indeed soon after, twenty men complained of being unable to continue the journey; 'swelled legs, stiff necks, aching backs, and empty stomachs being the universal cry.' It therefore became necessary to adopt some decisive step; and Cameron decided to throw away everything but instruments, journals, and books; and taking a few picked companions, make a forced march to the coast. It is already well known that this measure proved successful; that Benguela was reached, though not a day too soon, as even twenty-four hours' delay would have probably caused the scurvy which had attacked him to end fatally; and that those left behind were succoured, and ultimately restored to Zanzibar, while Lieutenant Cameron returned to England.

Thus concludes the graphic and well told narrative contained in these two volumes, which, despite some trifling literary shortcomings, are thoroughly deserving of recommendation to the reading public. Their story is simply told, but the interest is well maintained throughout, especially on those points which touch on the horrors of the slave-trade and the evil results of Portuguese rule. In conclusion, we may add that since Dr Schweinfurth published The Heart of Africa, no book on African travel has appeared with illustrations in any way comparable with those which embellish these volumes.

SUNSHINE AND CLOUD

IN TWO PARTS

PART I. – SUNSHINE

CHAPTER I. – ISAAC WEBB

Isaac Webb was twenty-four years of age. He was very tall, very thin, and very pale; on the whole, his appearance was not prepossessing. To these outward gifts might be added two inward ruling passions – love of self and love of money. It may be taken that the one was as powerful as the other. Some people said that he loved Isaac Webb more than the root of all evil; others, that he loved the said root more than the said Isaac Webb: the point was never decided, so they may be bracketed equal. But he had some good points, as every one has. In the first place, he was by no means of a suspicious or jealous turn of mind. This may have proceeded from the great confidence he had in his own judgment; for he thought himself a very shrewd fellow, a very deep dog. 'You're not to be easily bowled over, Isaac,' he would say to himself very often, rubbing his hands; 'and if anybody thinks he can snuff you out, let him try it on, and burn his fingers – ha, ha!' Such were Isaac's modest reflections on his own sagacity.

Another point to be scored to him was his abstemiousness. But certain uncharitable people ascribed even this to a second motive. 'For,' said they, 'he don't eat much because of the economy of the thing; and he does not drink anything except water, not because he's pledged to it, or because stronger drink don't agree with him, for why does he make up for it when he can do it at somebody else's expense?' This is what they said, and it certainly was rude of them to make such remarks; but it must be admitted that Isaac did not despise the creature comforts of this life when he did not have to stand treat to himself. Now it is impossible to account for this fact; he could not himself – never even attempted it. He had many other little peculiarities and traits of character, but they only revolved as minor worlds around the great suns above specified.

Isaac Webb was an orphan; that is to say his father had died when our hero was yet in his infancy; and his mother feeling her first husband's loss to be so deplorable, had joined herself unto another, and had emigrated with that gentleman to Australia when Isaac was about thirteen years old, leaving that worthy youth to the care of her half-brother, who in his turn had departed this mortal life about a year previous to the opening of this story, leaving its hero entirely to his own devices. He had a few other relatives scattered about the country, but none on whom he bestowed more than a passing remembrance. In the first place it was cheaper, for he had nothing to expect from them; and in the second, he did not want them, nor did they want him.

His visible means of subsistence were derived from the rents accruing from a whole nest of cottages situated in the country town near which he resided, together with a few good-sized parcels of garden-ground and sundry other 'effects,' including about a thousand pounds in ready-money put out at interest, but on which he could lay his hand whenever he thought proper. Altogether his net income (after deducting a decent amount for repairs, tenants who travelled by night unexpectedly, and other casualties) amounted to about two hundred and fifty pounds a year; and on this sum he had boarded, lodged, and clothed himself since he came of age, and had contrived out of it to put by a very pretty slice as well.

His place of habitation consisted of two small rooms over a little grocer's shop at Dambourne End in Southshire, about a mile distant from the town of Dambourne, in which place his patrimony was situated. He was engaged in no business, though fully appreciative of the L. S. D. side of the question, but considered that his interests and fortunes were bound up in the cottages and garden-ground, and that he should be leaving the substance and grasping a shadow if he in any way neglected the inheritance and devoted his time to any other pursuit – at all events at present. Thus he had lived from day to day for the last few years without any kind of change to vary the monotony of his existence. He had but few friends, and those of a very commercial character, and no luxuries or amusements beyond a second day's paper, and an occasional – very occasional – new suit of clothes. Therefore it was not so very extravagant of him to take into consideration, in the early summer of the year 1868, whether it would not be well to treat himself to a little change of air and scene. He had not, he fancied, been feeling quite the thing lately; and he thought it might be a wise proceeding on his part to recruit his health and spirits, and at the same time add to his already large store (in his own eyes) of shrewdness and worldly knowledge. Of course he never for a moment contemplated anything so costly and unnecessary to him as a mere pleasure-trip, so did not need to consider the most comfortable and enjoyable place whereat to spend the next five or six weeks of the summer. Not at all. He had only to make up his own mind as to the place where it would be possible to find anything fresh to add to his crowded storehouse of facts, monetary and otherwise.

As he that June evening thus ruminated in his little parlour over the shop, a bright idea suddenly occurred to him. 'Isaac,' said he, 'where have your wits been wool-gathering all this time? Oughtn't you to have known in a twinkle that there was only one place that would do for you? London's the only place that's fit for your capabilities, my boy; and London it shall be.'

CHAPTER II. – OUR HERO PREPARES TO GO TO LONDON

There were, however, one or two little matters to be arranged, before Isaac could give himself up to his journey in search of fresh experience. One was to endeavour to find a tenant for his lodgings during the time that he would be absent from them, because it would never do for him to pay for the use of two beds and sleep only in one. But in this he met with no difficulty; for on his popping the question (not matrimonially of course) to Mrs Clappen, his landlady, she immediately averred that the circumstance was providential. Isaac himself did not quite see how Providence was likely to be interested in so mundane a matter as lodgings to let, so ventured to ask why.

Mrs Clappen explained. 'Well, sir,' said she, 'a young gent which is quite a stranger to me, looked in the shop, you see, yesterday mornin' – yes, it must ha' been in the mornin' time, for Mrs Swaller had jest come in for to get some Epsin salts for her little boy, which is things I don't 'old no belief in myself, though sellin' 'em for the benefit, as you may say, of them as does; and I was jest a-asking Mrs Swaller if she wouldn't have a packet or two of grits to make a little gruel in order to comfort her little boy's stumick, as you may say, and she was jest a-sayin' as her youngest child's teeth, which is a twelvemonth old come next Sunday week at a little afore two, wasn't doing as she could wish, when this gent, which is a stranger to me, as you may say, looked in the door, and says: "Ladies," he says – them was his words – "Ladies, I am hextremely sorry to disturb you, more particular in your maternal simperthisin's," he says; "but does either of you ladies 'appen to know whether anybody 'appens to 'ave a good-sized room, or two small uns adjoining, which would be equally convenient, ladies," he says, "to let at a lowish figure for about a month or so in a week or two, ladies."

'We was naturally taken with 'is hair and that; and I says to Mrs Swaller: "Do you know of any think that would do for this 'ere gent?" I says. "Well, no, I don't, not 'ereabouts," she says; "but I 'eard Mrs Speller, what lives up agen the 'pike, say as 'ow she wouldn't mind meetin' with a genteel party, which of course we 'ave 'ere," she says, alludin' to 'is hair; "but that's a couple of mile furder on," she says, "and might be too far for the gentleman. And besides," she says, "she couldn't board him, and that might be naturally ill-convenient." And the gent, he says, with a pleasant smile, quite afferble: "Ladies, I mustn't be no furder away from Dambourne town than this," he says; "and if you don't know of nothink else, ladies," he says, with a hamiable smile, "'ere's my address," he says, "in case you 'appen to 'ear of anythink. – Good mornin', ladies," he says; and with that he went off, as you may say.' Mrs Clappen, quite out of breath, wiped her face with her apron as she concluded her narrative.

After a few questions from Isaac as to what the person was like, and if Mrs Clappen thought he would take care of the place, and not wear the carpet out, and so on, it was settled that she should write to Mr Scamplin, for such was his name, offering him her apartments for six weeks certain, at the same price her present lodger was paying; and stating that they would be at his disposal at that day week, if he liked to take them, and on his giving two references; Mrs Clappen declaring that she ''ad no doubt from 'is hair' that all would be satisfactory, and that Mr Scamplin would come to terms.

The following morning, found Isaac with his tailor – Mr Batfid by name – who carried on a small business at Dambourne, and who exhibited in his window a placard (pinned on to an antique pair of hunting breeches) announcing in faded red-and-blue characters the fact of all orders and repairs being executed with fidelity and despatch; which gave one the idea that any unfortunate coat or other garment that might come under Mr Batfid's manipulation was forthwith mutilated and murdered, a black flag being hoisted to celebrate the event. But Isaac formed no such suspicious notions, but took himself to the industrious proprietor, and ten o'clock found him in the agonies of measurement with Mr Batfid – a very small man – on a chair behind him, stretching up to his collar. These preliminaries ended, and the material (of a good wearing colour) chosen, the small but highly respectable man of business was all but thrown off his balance by Isaac's announcement that he must have the complete suit home in four days from that time. Mr Batfid declared that he did not see how he could possibly accomplish so much in so short a time. 'For,' said he, to give weight to his argument, 'you must remember that you are a very tall gentleman, a very fine figure, sir, and all the seams are naturally very long.'

'It did not occur to me before,' said Isaac; 'but I ought to have gone to the ready-made place lately opened at the corner, for I am told their charges are very low, and there is of course no delay in getting your things home.'

Mr Batfid hoped if he had any respect for his fine proportions that Mr Webb would never come down to that; and finally promised, in order to oblige a customer, that the garments should be finished by the time named, even if he only took a few passing winks of sleep on his board until they were completed.

Isaac having thus arranged matters with the worthy tailor, bethought himself that he had neither invested in new boots nor a new hat for a long time past, but had been wearing out sundry old ones, formerly in the occupation of his mother's half-brother, lately deceased; so betook himself to the necessary shops for providing himself with these luxuries; and having walked past the cottages and garden-ground, took himself and his new purchases home to his lodgings.

Two days later the post brought a letter from Mr Scamplin, engaging Mrs Clappen's rooms, and inclosing two London references (whence also he hailed), which were about as useful to that estimable lady as if he had mentioned a friend in Greenland and referred her to him; but she had such trust 'in 'is hair,' that she was sure it was all right; and Isaac, not being of a suspicious turn of mind, fell in with her views on the subject. So Mr Scamplin was written to, and the matter was settled.

Isaac having given the cottages and garden-ground into the charge of an old school-fellow of his, who was proprietor of a stationer's business (on a very limited scale as to stationery) and a night-school (very limited also as to learning, charges, and scholars), patiently waited for Mr Batfid's promise to be fulfilled, and was ready for his flight.

CHAPTER III. – IN THE METROPOLIS

Mr Batfid was true to his word, and the new clothes were duly delivered; and when day broke on the 13th of June, all was in readiness for Isaac's departure. Mrs Clappen, after much cogitation, could put this journey down to no other cause than her lodger's marriage on the quiet; not that she had reason to suppose he meditated taking such a step, but as he was so 'close' in his manner, she was pretty sure he would not take her into his confidence until the fact was accomplished. Although this was not Isaac's intention just at present, yet he had often thought whether he, as a landed proprietor, ought not to take unto himself a wife. With so very much on his side, he had no doubt of being able to find, whenever he might think proper to seek, a lady not only ready but eager to ally herself to so desirable a partner.

The only bar to his taking upon himself the holy estate of matrimony had been the expense; since he justly considered that no two persons, be they ever so economical, could by any possibility subsist on the same amount of rations, &c. as one, even supposing them to be like the wedded couple celebrated in song, one of whom could eat no fat, the other no lean, and thus, by a happy division of labour, accomplishing the cleanliness of the platter. It was not likely that Isaac would be so fortunate as this; and supposing he were, he and his good lady would not be able to do a similar thing with regard to clothes as the before-mentioned happy pair did with regard to victuals.

Isaac had many times considered this matter, and with his usual perspicuity, had arrived at the conclusion that there was but one course open to him; to wit, his alliance with some lady possessing sufficient means of her own to be able to bear her share in the cost of housekeeping – thus making matrimony subservient to patrimony; and his intention was to look out for such a party.

The sunlight peeping into Isaac's bedroom awoke that wary individual, who proceeded to arise and dress himself in his new apparel. This apparel was not, after all, entirely satisfactory, inasmuch as Mr Batfid, too much impressed apparently with the magnitude of his undertaking, had exaggerated the length of the seams and the fineness of his customer's figure; for Isaac found himself arrayed in a pair of inexpressibles very much too long, a waistcoat very much too tight, and a coat very much too high in the neck, very much too long in the sleeves, and likewise in the waist.

Nothing could be done but brace up the first until they nearly mounted to his arm-pits (and were even then too long), let out the second as far as it would go, and turn up the cuffs of the third. Thus habited, and with a cotton umbrella in one hand and an old carpet-bag in the other, Isaac made for the railway station, caught the 10.33 train, and was whisked up to London in an hour and five minutes.

He was not an entire stranger in that city, for he had visited it once before in company with his mother's half-brother, and remembered where to put up; namely, at a small coffee-house in the neighbourhood of Islington. Arrived there and a small bedroom engaged, the umbrella and bag were deposited in a corner, and Isaac, after carefully locking the door, took himself out for a stroll, telling the landlord he would be back at six o'clock, when he would regale himself with a chop and slice of cheese by way of dinner. Not that he entertained any high-fangled notions about dining late, but because of the economy of the thing; for a bun and a glass of water contented him in the middle of the day; and by this arrangement of six o'clock dinner, tea and supper were both dispensed with, these two meals per day being thus ticked off to Isaac's credit.

The first few weeks of his sojourn passed in a manner that would have been intolerably slow to anybody else, but did not appear so to him. There was much for him to see and admire in his own way, and this way was to walk about from morn till eve through the crowded streets, and more particularly those which were devoted entirely to business. Thus, next to a visit to the Docks, perhaps his favourite walk was through Upper and Lower Thames Street, where he would watch the loading and unloading of the various goods and merchandise. Not indeed with any distinct and particular purpose; but it was a delight to him to gaze upon these outward signs of the wealth within, and to ruminate on the possibility that he might one day acquire a share and interest in some large money-making business, which would serve as a stepping-stone to yet greater wealth and influence; and to be able to purchase such an interest was probably one of the reasons for his parsimoniousness. A laudable ambition, so far as it went; but the end was more thought of than the means by which it was to be accomplished; not indeed that he harboured an intention of any dishonesty, but he simply considered that the more he scraped, the sooner the final consummation would be attained.

POISONED ARROWS

That savages in various quarters of the world possess the knowledge and means of rendering their arrows poisonous, is a statement which is generally believed by ordinary individuals, from the schoolboy fresh from the perusal of books of adventure and travel, to his more mature and less sanguine elders. When, however, this topic is subjected to strict and sober investigation, it is found to present elements of inconsistency, or at anyrate of doubt, which at once tend to modify the previous and apparently well-founded belief of the inquirer. It is, in fact, found that the knowledge and use of deadly poisons by savages have been simply taken for granted, and that most of the stories or tales of the marvellous effects of wounds inflicted by poisoned weapons are based upon no kind of reliable evidence. These remarks apply to the general accounts given of the practice of savages in this respect. It is well known, however, that in some special instances an accurate practical knowledge of vegetable poisons is possessed by certain savage races. Thus the famous Woorali poison, obtained from a plant allied to that which affords the Strychnia of medicine, is used as a poison by South American tribes; and the juice of an allied plant (Strychnos cogens) is used to poison arrows in Darien and Panama.

But putting cases of poisoning by matter derived from vegetables entirely out of the question, it is also a matter of belief that savages have become possessed of the knowledge that animal matters in a state of putrefaction or decay, when introduced into the circulation, are capable of causing serious consequences, or even death itself. Accordingly certain races were believed to poison their spears and arrows by dipping them in the putrefying carcase of some animal; the results of wounding by these weapons being supposed to resemble those seen familiarly amongst ourselves, in the case of medical men and others who have accidentally punctured themselves whilst performing post-mortem examinations or dissections. Here again, however, elements of discrepancy appear. For the pathologist demands generally the existence of some special poison, generated by some special process in the course of putrefaction. In other words, cases of true blood-poisoning by decomposing animal matter are not of invariable occurrence after dissection-wounds; and such cases are further subject to modifying conditions in the patient – such as those of age, state of health, and susceptibility to the action of the poison.

Some highly interesting and important information on the present subject has recently been afforded by the inquiries of Staff-surgeon Messer of the royal navy, into the reputed poisonous qualities and nature of the arrows of South Sea islanders – a race which, more perhaps than any other tribe of savages, has been credited with the knowledge and use of poisoned weapons. Dr Messer had an excellent opportunity of making investigations into this subject during the visits of H.M.S. Pearl to the New Hebrides islands, and to the islands of Banks and Santa Cruz, in the summer of 1875; and as certain cases of wounding with arrows occurred under Dr Messer's eyes and were treated by him, his remarks on this subject possess a more than usual interest.

The common belief that savages possess the requisite knowledge and skill to manipulate and concentrate vegetable poisons, so that these poisons may prove of effective kind when applied to weapons, and used, it may be long after the application of the fresh poison, is freely commented upon in an adverse manner by Dr Messer. He further points out that savages themselves may firmly believe in the deadly nature of their weapons, without having any idea of the really innocuous nature of the substances with which they have smeared them. And great allowance must also be made for the influence of fear and superstition. The implicit belief in the poisonous nature of the weapons forms a point of no mean importance in the consideration of the causes whereby serious or fatal effects are produced. The 'nervous system becomes liable,' to use Dr Messer's words, 'to certain diseases on the slightest provocation;' and once convinced of the deadly nature of the weapon which has wounded him, the savage – and the civilised man also – comes to regard a fatal result as inevitable – this result accruing simply from 'want of moral courage to resist disease.'

The chief element in cases of poisoning which appears to have given countenance to the reality of the effects of the poison, is the occurrence of tetanus or lock-jaw after wounds. This disease, familiar to every medical man, as also resulting from injuries entirely dissociated from poisoned wounds, is ascribed by the uninitiated and ignorant to the effects of the poisoned weapons of the savage. And hence the belief in the potency of the virus becomes more and more assured. Thus, as is well known, Commodore Goodenough and a party of men were fired at with arrows at Carlisle Bay in Santa Cruz. The officer and five men were wounded by arrows, and a second officer had his hand scratched with the point of an arrow held in the hand of a native. The wounds in every case were slight. But the ship was ordered to return to the more temperate climate of Sydney, in order to give the sufferers the best chance of averting, what Dr Messer feared might possibly be favoured by the heat of the climate – namely, the occurrence of tetanus. All went well until the fifth and sixth days after the reception of the wounds, when the Commodore and two of his men began to shew symptoms of this disorder, which unfortunately proved fatal to the three patients within sixty hours.

Now, as Dr Messer proceeds to remark, here were three cases which might be cited, and which have been referred to as proving the actual occurrence of poisoning after the wounds of arrows. But the query which science asks is, whether the symptoms in these cases present any difference from those in ordinary cases of tetanus, and whether anything special occurred in their history to indicate the action of a specific poison? Without entering into particulars, it may be asserted that these cases, in every detail, presented nothing unusual or inconsistent with the idea of their being instances of ordinary tetanus. The occurrence of the disease was favoured – as is well known to medical men – in the wounded by the mental excitement and fear consequent on the belief that the arrows had been poisoned. There was, in fact, an utter absence of all the symptoms of poisoning; and the tetanus did not occur under any unwonted conditions, but simply under those which favour its development after injuries of ordinary kind. Where then, it may be asked, is the evidence of poisoning? To this query the obvious reply must be that, as regards the reputed poison of the arrows, no evidence is forthcoming, from the entire history of the case.

The actual investigation of the arrows of the natives of the South Pacific islands forms by no means the least interesting part of Dr Messer's communication. The arrows are generally composed of three pieces – the shaft made of a light cane, the head composed of hard wood, and the point or barb formed simply of the sharpened end of the head, of a sharp bit of bone, of the fin-spine of a fish, or the spine of a sea-urchin's shell. Specimens obtained from the New Hebrides measured three feet in length, and weighed about eighty grains; the points being formed of a piece of human bone of very tapering form, and ground down to a very fine point. The point was smeared with a black substance which had dried in separate masses upon the bone. The arrows which were fired upon Commodore Goodenough and his party at Carlisle Bay, Santa Cruz, were four feet in length, and had points, composed of slender and sharp pieces of human bone, about eight inches in length. The 'poisoned' arrows are carried about in quivers, and are not only carefully looked after by the natives, but are very difficult to obtain, presumably on account of the natives being jealous that the purchasers might become possessed of the knowledge of the poison, which in their eyes renders the weapons so valuable. The arrows of the Santa Cruz islanders were not carried as poisoned arrows almost invariably are, and were readily sold to the crew of the Pearl by the natives.

As far as could be ascertained, the processes adopted by the South Sea islanders to poison their arrows, consist firstly in the habit of inserting the weapons in various parts of a decomposing human body; the neighbourhood of the kidneys being usually preferred for this purpose. Now, as already remarked, it so happens that physiologists and medical men are in possession of some very definite information regarding the manner in which decomposing animal matters act on the human organism. And on the other hand, there appears to be an utter lack of evidence obtained from the observation of cases of poisoned-arrow wounds, to shew that there is any analogy between the symptoms observed in these cases and those prevailing after blood-poisoning. It is also very worthy of remark that tetanus – the commonest result of poisoned-arrow wounds – is not known to be caused by the introduction, within the system, of decomposing animal matter.

The second mode in which the natives of the South Pacific islands are believed to render their arrows noxious, is that of smearing them with some poisonous vegetable matters. It is probable that if poisoned arrows are really prepared by savages in any way, it is in this latter mode that they are rendered noxious. But there is an evident discrepancy between the action of any known vegetable poisons and the symptoms observed after wounding with the arrows of savages. Thus woorali acts by paralysing the muscles concerned in breathing. 'Corroval' and 'bao,' two poisons allied to woorali, act by causing coma or stupor and paralysis of the heart. The effect of the Upas tree of Java (Strychnos tiente) is to produce artificial tetanus; and strychnia introduced into the blood directly, as by inoculation, gives rise to marked symptoms, which resemble tetanus – but with this remarkable and notable distinction, that the tetanic convulsions set in immediately after the poison has been introduced into the system, and not after several days of incubation. Thus it is clear, from this latter fact alone, that strychnia and its allies can hardly represent the poisons with which the arrows of savages are smeared – admitting that these weapons are poisonous in any degree.

The historical accounts of cases of wounding by the arrows of savages, evince a singular want of any distinct or decided evidence to prove the clearly specific nature of any symptoms observed. Thus Mendaña in 1595 remarks that the Santa Cruz islanders were believed to use poisoned arrows, but the Spaniards did not believe the poison to be of very noxious kind. Burney in the History of Discoveries in the South Seas makes an observation to the same effect; and as Dr Messer well remarks, probably no fatal case occurred – with one exception – from wounding with the arrows, else such a result would have surely been mentioned. In 1797 Carteret in the Swallow visited Santa Cruz, and several of his crew were severely wounded by arrows of the usually reputed and poisonous kind. Three fatal cases occurred, but no mention is made of the effects being due to poison – a fact which would have been expected to have been duly chronicled from its interesting, if also sad, nature. Direct experiments with poisoned arrows are mentioned in the second volume of Forster's account of Cook's Voyages; the arrows being those of the New Hebrides islanders. A dog was wounded with the weapons, but no ill effects followed; whilst fishes were not affected after being wounded with these avowedly poisonous weapons. A pig wounded in 1827 by a poisoned arrow from the Santa Cruz islands, exhibited no symptoms whatever; and it is noteworthy to find that in the attack on Bishop Patteson's party at Santa Cruz in 1864, after which two deaths from tetanus occurred from wounding by arrows, the weapons were said not to have been poisoned. Here we find an effect produced from non-poisoned arrows similar to that observed in the case of Commodore Goodenough after wounding with weapons reputed to be poisoned.

Accounts given by missionaries of the probable nature of the poisons used to render arrows noxious, appear to shew that the natives of the North New Hebrides and Banks' islands do not themselves attach importance to the effects of the substance with which the arrows are poisoned, but seem to regard the innocuous human bone, forming the point of the weapon, as a powerful agent in producing deleterious effects. The poisons, according to the evidence of the missionaries, are derived from vegetables; the plants used in Banks' islands being 'Toe,' a species of Euphorbiaceæ, and 'Loke,' a climbing plant, allied to Strychnia. The same evidence declares the fact that the usual effects of wounding with arrows so prepared are inflammation, and occasionally tetanus; but the important remark is also made that the natives of the South Pacific are very subject to tetanus 'after wounds not produced by poisoned arrows,' and that this disorder is also common among the natives independently of wounding.

Professor Halford of Melbourne University – an authority on snake-bites – gives evidence to the effect that dogs and pigeons exhibited no evil effects after being wounded in various ways by poisoned arrows, obtained from the Solomon Islands, and by the substances obtained from these weapons.

That Dr Messer's observations on this subject therefore afford good grounds for believing that many of the reports relating to the deadly nature of the arrows used by the South Sea islanders are decidedly erroneous, there can be no reasonable doubt. And that many of the cases of so-called poisoning are due simply to mental fear and the physical irritation inducing tetanus, seems also a fair inference. But there can be no doubt, that at the same time, travellers and missionaries, by careful observation, might furnish scientific men with secure data upon which to establish sound conclusions. At present, the entire body of evidence clearly warrants us in entertaining a negative opinion regarding firstly the generally poisonous nature of the arrows of South Sea islanders; and secondly regarding the use by these races of any active poison derived from decomposing animal matter.

MINDING THE BAIRN

The little story of 'Rob Graham,' which lately appeared in these pages, may possibly have aroused some interest concerning the poor but by no means insufficient manner in which children are reared among the Scottish peasantry. They get their food regularly, though in a plain way. They are usually stuffed into holes and corners to sleep. The older girls take charge of the younger; even the boys are pressed into this sort of service. All without exception run about barefooted in summer – not altogether on account of the cost of shoes, but from preference. Where there are burns to paddle in, and waters to cross, shoes and stockings would only be an encumbrance.

A farm establishment in Scotland is familiarly known by the Anglo-Saxon term, the toun. It is so called by the workers on the farm. Embraced in the toun, though situated perhaps at a hundred yards distant, is a row of cottages with little gardens behind them. These are the quarters of the hinds or ploughmen and their families. Ordinarily, there are dwellings for five or six hinds, besides one for the grieve or overseer. Latterly, the condition of the hinds – at least in the southern counties – has been greatly improved. They are each allowed so much oatmeal per annum; and perhaps a cow, which is allowed to graze with the cows of the farmer. There is an allowance of a rig or two of potatoes. A pig may be kept. The farmer engages to give the use of a horse and cart to drive a certain quantity of coals. Besides these indispensable allowances, there is a wage paid in money. The total value may be estimated at from fifty to sixty pounds a year. That does not seem a large income, but the outgoings are small – very different from what they are among artisans in large towns, where everything has to be bought and paid for. There is the house free of rent; the oatmeal for the porridge; milk from the cow in abundance; potatoes for the lifting and storing; coal driven to the very door; vegetables from the garden; fresh and pure water from the mountain rill; hams of the last year's pig dangling from the ceiling. For all this there is doubtless pretty hard labour in the field and barn; yet there are many assuagements. The labour is regular and healthful. Nothing is paid for seats in the parish church; the minister exacts no fees for baptisms; the children are educated for a trifle in the nearest school; even before the late access of educational power, there was no want of schooling, nor was there any disinclination to make use of it. We do not remember ever visiting the house of a Scottish peasant and not seeing books – very frequently a large family Bible – and that is saying a good deal.

For anything like thrift and comfort, there is of course a dependence on the wife. She has no servants to assist her. She could not pay for help. She is wife, house-servant, and cook all in one. Woe be to the hind who marries a slattern, one who likes finery and has a taste for delicacies! This, however, rarely occurs. We can say that within our observation the hinds' wives are thrifty and industrious, making the best of matters within their sphere. To use a common phrase, they soon 'fall into a family.' Then arise new duties to be encountered. We have often been filled with wonder how they at all manage to conduct their multifarious affairs. Not only the house to look after, but a crowd of children. It is a blessed thing for them that there is the open air, with the slip of green before the door, to which all the youngsters at times may be bundled, and where they rollick and tumble about, strengthening their legs and arms, and bringing their lungs into splendid exercise. Without a particle of scientific knowledge, the clachan generally is by intuition kept in excellent health.