Page images
PDF
EPUB

their expression brutalised and insensible. As for his habits, they were exactly those of a wild animal.

Mr H

men of the party on foot; the former headed them, and turned the boy back on to the men, who then captured him. They took him to the village and tried to make him speak, but could get no answer save an angry growl or snarl. He was some weeks at the village, and large crowds assembled each day to see him. On the approach of a grown-up person, he became alarmed, and tried to steal away; when, however, a child came near, he rushed at it with a fierce snarl and attempted to bite it. He rejected cooked meat with disgust; but when raw meat was offered, he seized it eagerly, put it under his paws like a dog, and ate it with evident relish. He would not let any person approach him while he was eating, but had no objection to a dog coming and

caused minute inquiries to be made throughout the neighbouring villages as to whether the inhabitants had lost any children through their being carried off by wolves, and if so, whether they could recognise the human waif that had been recovered, by means of birthmarks, moles, or other such indelible tokens. In the course of a few days the father and mother of the lad were discovered. They identified him by certain well-defined marks about the breast and shoulders, and stated he had been carried away when about two years of age. His parents, however, found him very difficult to manage, for he was most fractious and trouble-sharing his food with him. some-in fact, just a caged wild beast. Often 'The lad was handed over to the Rajah of during the night, for hours together, he would Hasanpore, and soon after was sent by him to give vent to most unearthly yells and moans, Sultanpore, to Captain Nicholetts, the European destroying the rest and irritating the tempers officer commanding the first regiment of Oude of his neighbours, and generally making night local infantry. The latter made him over to hideous. On one occasion, his people chained the charge of his servants, who take great care him by the waist to a tree that stood near of him, but can never get him to utter a sylthe hut, which was situated on the outskirts of the village. Then a rather curious incident occurred. It was a bright moonlight night; and two wolf-cubs-undoubtedly those in whose companionship he had been captured-attracted apparently by his cries, while on the prowl, came to him, and were distinctly seen to gambol about and play with him, with as much familiarity and affection as if they considered him quite one of themselves. They only left him on the approach of morning, when movement and stir again arose in the village.

The wolf-boy, however, did not survive long. Accustomed to the wilds for at least half-a-dozen years, captivity and the change in his mode of life appeared not to agree with him, for he gradually pined away and died. He never spoke a word; nor did a single ray of human intelligence ever shed its refining light over his poor debased features.

The next story is taken from a work published some five-and-twenty years ago, by a then wellknown Indian political officer.

"There is now at Sultanpore a boy who was found in a wolf's den, near Chandour on the Goomtee River, about two and a half years ago. A trooper, sent by the native governor to the district of Chandour to demand the payment of some revenue, was passing along the banks of the Goomtee, when he saw a large female wolf leave her den, followed by three whelps and a boy. The boy went on all-fours, and was on the best possible terms with the dam and her whelps; and the mother seemed to guard all four with equal care. They went down to the river and drank without perceiving the native, who sat upon his horse watching them. As soon as they were about to turn back, the trooper pushed on, intending to cut off and secure the boy; but the latter ran quite as fast as the whelps, and kept up easily with its foster-parent. Eventually they all re-entered the den. The trooper then assembled some people with pickaxes and attempted to dig them out. When they had dug some seven or eight feet into the bank, the wolf escaped with her cubs and the boy. They were pursued by the trooper, followed by the fastest young

A

lable. He is inoffensive, except when teased
(Captain Nicholetts says), and will then growl
surlily at the person annoying him.
He now
eats almost anything thrown to him, but pre-
fers raw flesh, which he devours greedily.
quilt stuffed with cotton was given to him, when
the weather became very cold this season; but
he tore it to pieces and ate a portion of it, cotton
and all, with his food every day. He is very
fond of bones, particularly uncooked ones; these
he masticates apparently with as much ease as
if they were meat. He continues to like dogs
and jackals, and permits them to feed with
him, if he happens to be eating when they
approach.

Captain Nicholetts, in letters dated 14th and
19th September 1850, told me that the boy died
in the latter end of August, and that he had
never been seen to laugh or smile. He under-
stood but little what was said, and appeared
to take no notice of anything going on around
him; nor did he form any attachments what-
ever. He never played with the numerous
children around him, nor did he seem wishful
to do so. When not hungry, he used to sit
petting and stroking a pariah or vagrant dog,
which he used to allow to feed out of the same
dish with him. A short time before his death,
Captain Nicholetts shot this dog, as he used to
eat by far the greater part of the meat given
to the boy, who in consequence was getting
quite thin. The lad didn't seem in the least i
to care for the death of his companion.
used signs when he wanted anything, and very
few of them. When hungry, he pointed to his
mouth. When his food was placed some dis-
tance from him, he used to run to it on all-
fours; but at other times, not frequently, he
would walk upright. He shunned human beings
male and female, and would never willingly
remain near one. To cold, heat, and rain he
appeared alike indifferent, and seemed to care
for nothing but eating. He was very quiet, and
required no kind of restraint while he was with
Captain Nicholetts' servants-that is, for the space
of about two years. He was never heard to
utter a single word, till within a few minutes

He

Journal

of his death, when he put his hand to his head and said "it ached;" he then asked for some water, after drinking which, he died. This boy when caught was about ten years of age.'

JIM FLANNERTY'S GHOST. 'So you really believe in ghosts, Brian?' said I. 'Sure, your honour,' returned Brian with a grin, 'it's not for me to disbelieve what I've seen wid my own eyes.'

'Do you mean to say,' exclaims my friend Smith, 'that you have actually seen a ghost?' 'Faith, thin, an' it's myself saw one not two weeks ago, as plain as I see you at this minit. More by token, 'twas that same ghost got me my Mary, the purtiest girl in the whole village; not to spake ov an illigant cottage an' a thrifle ov gowld beside.'

'Come, that sounds interesting. Couldn't you give us a description of this obliging apparition?'

'Is it an account o' the ghost that ye're wantin'? Sure, an' I'll give it ye wid the greatest playsure in life, only ye'll not be repateing it to any livin' crayture, or, faith, I'd

niver hear the last ov it?'

We promise silence; and accordingly Brian, duly fortified with a glass of his favourite liquor, proceeds.

Ye were maybe acquainted, gintlemen, wid ould Larry O'Donaghue?'

Unfortunately, we had never had that honour. An' small loss to ye, aither,' quoth Brian. 'But he was Mary's father, an' a purty father too; but that's naither here nor there. Well, I was a sort ov relation ov his; so, whin my mother died-she was a widdy-I wint to live w' him an' Mary. She was a girl ov twelve thin, an' myself wasn't much older; but ye see I lived there seven years, an' by that time I was grown uncommon fond ov Mary; not that she'd ever listen to me, the crayture, whin I wanted to tell her so; but still she didn't seem to mislike me. Well, I'd saved a thrifle, an' I was arnin' fair wages; so I'd jist made up my mind to ask Mary to be my wife, whin who should turn up but Jim Flannerty, bad cess to him! Now, Jim was a sort ov cousin ov ould O'Donaghue; an' he'd left his ship on sick-leave, though you would not have thowt it, to look at him, seein' he was as red as a carrot. Av coorse, he wor always in an' out ov the house, an' seemed mighty sthruck wi' Mary, an' she wi' him. Well, the long an' the short ov it was that ould O'Donaghue sent me on a fool's errand to Dublin; an' whin I come back, Mary an' Flannerty wor engaged. Av coorse, I couldn't stay at home after that, so I jist wint away; an' I didn't come back for two years. 'Well, I returns one day, an' I finds ould O'Donaghue dead, an' Mary livin' in the cottage wid an' ould aunt. "Sure, it's myself, Mary," “Arrah, thin, don't be onaisy !-An' it's

Says L

Mrs Flannerty that ye'll be now?" for I wanted to make sure, ye see. So thin it comes out that Jim Flannerty's not been heard of for a year an' more, an' the ship he sailed in 's lost. Well, I was mighty glad to hear that Flannerty was out ov the way; though, av coorse, I was rale sorry for Mary, an' did my best to comfort her. However, she wouldn't noways believe that Jim was drowned. "Sure, but it's on some desert island that he is," says she; an' not all my talking could git that out ov her head.

'Well, one evenin' she an' I was walking along by the river, an' says I: "Mary mavourneen, will you be my wife, for I've loved you since the day I first set eyes on you?"

"Och, thin, Brian O'Brady," says she, "but I'm promised to Jim."

667

dead an' drowned that he is; so take me instead, 'Deed, thin, Mary alanna," says I, "but it's an' it's not repenting it that ye'll be."

"I'll not believe that he's dead," says she, "till I see his ghost!"

'An' would ye believe it? That very minit I turns round, an' sees the ghost behind us!' (I here interrupt Brian to ask for some description of the spectre.).

'Well, ye see, I didn't obsarve it very particular, for Mary av coorse screams an' drops down in a faint; but I jist remarked 'twas mortal ugly, an' flames was comin' out ov its mouth an' nose an' shootin' all over it.'

('Oh, come now!' breaks in Smith, but subsides on my looking at him reprovingly.)

'An' there was an awful smell ov sulphur an' burnin' about it,' continues Brian, though I wouldn't say it to Mary, for fear ov hurtin' her feelin's. Well, she soon comes round, an' says "Where's the ghost, Brian?" "It's vanished," says I.

she:

"An' was it Jim Flannerty's?" says she, very

low.

"Av coorse it was," says I.

"Did he spake to ye, Brian, darlint?" says she.
"We had a few minits' convarsation," says I.
"An' what was it ye were sayin', thin?"

[ocr errors]

Troth, an' I'll tell you the whole," says I. "The ghost says to me-(I'll jist put my arm around ye, Mary, an' thin ye needn't be afraid) -the ghost says: "Brian O'Brady!" says he. "Jim Flannerty," says I.

"You're an honest fellow," says he.

"Troth, ye're payin' me too great a compli ment," says I, for I thowt it best to be civil, ye see.

"By no manes," says he. "Will a favour?"

you

do me

"Wid the greatest playsure in life," says I.
"I'm engaged to a young woman," says he-
(Don't scream, Mary, darlint; I'm holdin' ye
tight)" an' present circumstances don't allow
ov my marryin'; will you take her instead ov
me?"

Sure, it's proud an' glad that I'll be to do
it," says
I.-An' wi' that the ghost vanishes. "So,
Mary, darlint, there's nought against our bein'

married at once."

married that week; an' it's as happy as the day 'Well, the long an' the short o' it is, we were is long that we are now.'

A roar of laughter from Smith greets the conclusion of Brian's narrative.

'What is the matter?' I inquire.

'Why, I was the ghost!' replies he.-'I say, Brian, did you ever hear of "luminous paint?" '' Sure, thin, your honour, my own grandfather painted half the houses in K- -; so it's few paints that I haven't seen, seein' he used to make me mix them.'

Well, if he covered the houses with luminous paint, it was rather a brilliant idea of his, though I don't suppose that it did actually occur to him! -You see this mixture here, Brian? Well, if it were dark, and I rubbed some of this on any object, that object would at once look bright and shining, and appear to give out light.'

'Sure, that's mighty clever, your honour,' says Brian.

'I had been trying for a long time,' continues Smith, 'to find out of what this paint is composed, and some evenings ago I succeeded in discovering the secret. I was so delighted with my success, that I did not wait to rub the stuff from my hands and face, but rushed down to my friend Professor Nichol's, to show him the result of my experiments. I remember I went along by the river; so you see that I must have been your "mortal ugly" ghost' [Smith is a handsome fellow, and a favourite with the ladies], 'who unconsciously did you such a good turn. The ghostly "conversation" existed, I presume, only in your imagination.'

Sure, didn't I think all the time that 'twas mighty like yourself, Mr Smith!' says Brian drily.

[ocr errors]

Then why did you tell us that it was Flannerty?' I inquire.

'Arrah, thin, but Jim Flannerty wor uncommon like your honour's friend, as you'd see if he were standin' here this minit; so why shouldn't their ghosts be alike too?' And Brian took his departure, leaving us laughing over his ready wit and inventive genius.

OCCASIONAL NOTE.

A STRANGE STORY OF RETRIBUTION IN ANIMAL

LIFE.

A CORONER'S inquest was recently held in London upon the dead body of a man who had been killed by an elephant belonging to Mr Myers, circus proprietor. The elephant in question was a female, and was known by the name of 'Blind Bill,' because she was stoneblind. The elephant was in general a perfectly quiet animal; but had nourished a prejudice against the man who fell a victim to its revenge. Eight months before the fatal occurrence, and while the circus company was performing at Reading, the deceased, who was then a hawker in that town, was one day watching the elephants, when Blind Bill' put her trunk into one of his baskets and ate all his vegetables. Becoming incensed at his loss and the laughter of the bystanders, the man pulled out his penknife and cruelly stabbed the elephant in the trunk. This was the beginning of an ill-will between the man and the quadruped; for the man having afterwards got employment with the company, was attacked one morning by the elephant and crushed to death against a wall.

But the most remarkable part of the elephant's

This refers to

story is still to be mentioned. the manner in which the animal lost its eyesight, and was told by Mr Myers in his evidence at the above inquest. He said he had had the elephant for twenty years, and during the whole of that period she had always been of singularly mild disposition, unless provoked. For instance, about thirteen years ago, a groom in his employment put out one of her eyes with a pitchfork; for which act of diabolical cruelty the man was dismissed. About twelve months later the animal lost the sight of the other eye, and since that time had been stone-blind. Some two years afterwards, Mr Myers's company was performing in Jersey, and while there, the groom in question came into the stable in which the elephant was, and, slapping her on the side, said: "This is the old brute who got me dismissed.' On hearing the man's voice, the elephant pushed him up against the wall, and so injured his head and eyes that ever since that time the man had been what is termed cross-eyed. The coroner, Sir John Humphreys, in addressing the jury, rightly observed that this incident, as related by Mr Myers, was a curious one, and was certainly a just retribution upon the groom.

THE WEANING OF THE LAMBS.
HERE, on the trunk of this uprooted pine,
Sole barren thing amid the summer's green,
I'll rest awhile, and let my spirit take
Its fill of anguish. Oh, to heart like mine,
Deep shadowed with the gloom of present grief,
How human-like, how full of pity, come
The long loud wailings of the lambs that bleat
Their sorrows in a crowd on yonder hill!
How painfully along the twilight air
Swells the deep dirge pathetic! All the wood
Is listening breathless to the mournful sound.
The very mists with which sad Evening veils
The dewy earth, and clouds the blue serene,
Seem struck to stillness in their phantom-shapes,
And cling about the steeps of yon tall crag
Like mourners round the couch they cannot ease.
The soft warm shower that but an hour ago
Suffused the vale, and cheered its drooping life,
Has left bright droplets on the shadowy wood,
And every leaf is glistening like an eye
Of silent sorrow for the fleecy fold
That give such sad complainings to the night.

O creatures, gentlest of all gentle things!
I cannot linger here, and, lingering, list
The expressive voice of inarticulate grief
Rising and falling with the ebb and flow
Of your unspoken sorrow, and not feel
Some natural throes of sympathetic pain.
I would not seek to shut-were't in my power-
'Gainst any creature on God's blessed earth,
Struck down by woe, the sluices of my heart:
Nay, rather would I fling the floodgates wide,
To let my pity mingle with your grief,
And from the confluence of the sacred tides,
Like palm-tree by the desert's lonely spring,
Draw secret nourishment and hidden strength.

J. R

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Pater noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH

All Rights Reserved.

[blocks in formation]

EUROPEAN LIFE IN EGYPT. Is Cairo, Alexandria, Port Said, Suez, and Ismailia, there was before the recent events such a large proportion of Europeans to the native population, that a few words in regard to the particular class of Europeans who inhabited these towns, their habits and modes of life, may not be without interest at the present time.

Cairo was to Alexandria what the West End is to the City of London-to some extent what Paris is to Marseilles. It was a city of pleasure, and for this reason attracted a class of Europeans who are not to be found in other parts of Egypt. And its position in the centre of so much that is ancient and interesting-the Pyramids, the mosques, the tombs, the bazaars, Heliopolis and Sakkarah, the Boulak Museum, &c. and its admirable situation as a starting-point for the journey up the Nile, all gave a distinct character to its European population. For the trades-people depended almost entirely upon the visitors, and the season extended from November to April.

.

PRICE 1d.

mob, excited by religious enthusiasm, and by the presence of some thousands of soldiers, who were known to be unfriendly; but there were only a few isolated instances of disturbance, which were as likely to have proceeded from one side as the other.

The Europeans engaged in commerce were chiefly Greeks or Levantines, with a fair sprinkling of Italians, Germans, and Maltese. It does not seem to be generally known that throughout Egypt, Italian is the only European language in common use. You may go into dozens of good shops in Cairo where French is not understood. All official notices are in Arabic and Italian. The hours of business are in the morning as on the continent, and from twelve to three nothing is done. The European Cairene of commerce spends a good deal of his time at the café smoking his narghileh and drinking coffee during the day, ready for any business that he may be called to, but not seeking it; and in the evening he likes to listen to the hideous Arabic music, to gamble at roulette or to dice with the hawkers who pass from café to café, dice-box in hand, to play you for their wares-ducks and fowls, scents and soaps, brushes and combs and writing-paper, and the like.

There is, or rather was, a coterie formed of the residents in Cairo, chiefly composed of the Europeans belonging to the various governmental departments, and their families. These, recruited Alexandria was the Marseilles of the East, by the arrival of friends, or others bringing in- commercially speaking, and it had finer and troductions from home, formed the 'society' of better paved streets, finer houses and shops, and Cairo. There was plenty of lawn-tennis of an a drive by the Promenade and the Mahmoudieh afternoon at the house of the popular Consul- Canal, fringed by more beautiful and luxurious general, Sir Edward Malet. Then there were gardens and villas than are to be found in Cairo. dances and dinners, and a fair second-rate opera Its business character was at once apparent. The company, and returns of hospitality at Shepheard's crowds of well-dressed men about the Bourse; Hotel, where theatricals and fancy balls would be the activity and hurry in the surrounding streets; arranged, or excursions planned, or flirtations the loaded carts at the warehouse doors; the carried on. Disquieting rumours were meanwhile brass plates of companies, and bankers, and afloat, as early as in March last, as to a con- merchants; the rushing hither and thither of templated massacre of Europeans, but the idea the chevasses or messengers in their Syrian was scouted; nor was there anything in the dresses; the Arab porters, with legs bent under attitude of the natives to support the rumour. the enormous weights they carried on their backs During the Hadji, or procession bringing the all spoke of a community full of the life of holy carpet from Mecca, Europeans felt some business. The talk was of bales and cargoes, and little doubt as to their possible treatment by the consignments and exchanges; and men adjourned

to the famous café in the Rue de la Bourse to clench a bargain after the sociable fashion of Manchester or Liverpool. The wealthy merchants lived out in the suburb of Ramleh, about four miles from the town; and when anything particular in the form of amusement was to take place in Alexandria, the play-bills informed the public that trains would be run to Ramleh so many minutes after the performance was over, as they might do if Ramleh were a suburb of Cottonopolis. The European young man of business-English, French, German, Italian, or Greek-was like his counterpart in our own large commercial centres, somewhat dressy and given to jewellery and rather fast equipages; but the English had their cricket, and rowing, and athletic clubs into the bargain. Then the young men had the entrée of the houses with which they were connected, and the society of the families. There were two theatres; a very fair band at the Café Paradiso, formed of fair Triestines and Bohémiennes; trente et quarante, if one were so disposed; capital beer at the brasseries-notably Fink's; and oysters to be had for a piastre (twopence-halfpenny) a dozen. The lower class of Europeans in Alexandria were numerically as strong and morally perhaps worse than the Arabs in the town. In the summer, all Europeans who could, came from the interior to Alexandria for bathing.

Port Said is an overcrowded little coalingstation that was called into existence by the Suez Canal. Its growth has been something marvellous in the last ten years, and, besides coal, it carries on a very brisk trade in stores of all kinds with the steamers passing through the Canal. The respectable portion of the European inhabitants, bearing a very small proportion to the disreputable, have few resources out of themselves. The main street is scarcely fit for decent people to walk in after sundown, after which time the side streets and the Arab quarter at the back of the town send forth about as pretty a mixture of Levantine and Arab blackguardism as is to be found anywhere in the world. There is no redeeming feature in this miniature pandemonium, with its gambling-houses, grog-shops, and general immorality; and the lowclass Europeans, chiefly from the Greek Archipelago and the Levant, are a good deal worse than the native population. And when a khamseen wind is blowing, and Port Said is enveloped in a mist of coal-dust and sand, it is not surprising that even the better class of inhabitants should rush to the billiard-tables of the Palatine, and the green cloth of El Dorado, to get rid of the killing depression of the place.

It is pleasant to turn from the western port of the Suez Canal to the little town of Ismailia. The post-boat runs daily by the Canal, carrying mails and passengers, and takes about six hours for the journey. Ismailia is a veritable oasis in the desert waste between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea. By a long avenue shaded by acacia trees, you pass from the landing-stage, cross the Freshwater Canal, and reach the public gardens, which are laid out with great taste, with a fountain sparkling in the middle. The streets of the town radiate from this centre. There are trees everywhere, and it is the cleanest town in Egypt. It is altogether French; there are no shops, except at the Arab bazaar, about half a mile

away across the sand. There is an hotel by the landing-place to which salt-water baths are attached; and a very comfortable and homely hotel near the gardens, where the few Europeans there are nearly all French-take breakfast and dinner at the table d'hôte. They are chiefly officials connected with the Suez Canal, with a few merchants and clerks engaged in the cotton trade with Zagazig and Mansourah. M. Lesseps has a villa here which he occasionally visits. There is a deadly quiet about Ismailia; and empty houses and empty offices, the absence of shops and cafés, together with its separation (characteristically French!) by half a mile from the Arab quarter, give the town a deserted appearance, which, however, is not without its charm in a country where huddling together, and the importunities of begging natives, are notable nuisances. A few little shoe-blacks, who are ready to show you the Khedive's palace or the other lions, or to brush your boots, alone pester you for backsheesh, rather as a matter of course than with any earnestness. They are amusing little ragamuffins, with none of the sharpness and vice of the little town gamins of Egypt. Ismailia, then, may be described as containing a small French colony, living their life, after the manner of Frenchmen abroad, very much as they would in their own country, and having as little to do with the natives as they conveniently can. A line of rail runs from Ismailia to Nefisa on the main line between Suez and Cairo, so that it will in all likelihood become a place of some importance in the current course of events in Egypt.

6

Suez, with the most delightful climate in Egypt, with neither the damps' of Alexandria nor the dust of Cairo, might, with a particle of the taste and discrimination shown by the French at Ismailia, have been made a perfect garden. The soil is most productive, covered by a mere coating of sand; and the excellence of the fruits and vegetables that are so sparsely cultivated here, are well known. Had the docks been made nearer the town-not, it has been thought, an impossible feat-Suez might have been made nearly as busy a seaport as Port Said; and from the charm of its climate, combining the purity of the desert air and the saltness of the Red Sea, it would doubtless have drawn many families to winter' there, who went to Cairo. But with the town some two miles away from the docks, business confined to the quay and the customhouse, no amusements, a generally tumble-down look, and no trace of an attempt to brighten or beautify it, it is not surprising that Suez should usually be characterised as a 'wretched hole.' The European society in Suez was composed of the agents and officials of the Canal, the large steam companies, the post, the telegraph, and various offices of the Egyptian government, and for the most part English, French, and Italian. An excursion to the Atakah Mountains or to Moses' Wells across the Gulf, fishing in the Red Sea, shooting duck and quail in the winter, strolling up to the Freshwater Canal, donkeyriding to the docks or Terra Pleina, a sail down the Gulf, occasionally lawn-tennis, a dance, or some private theatricals, formed the sum of the amusements in Suez. As in most small communities, however, there was little 'coherence'

« PreviousContinue »