the sham affair the enemy came to the front and challenged attack, throughout the real campaign no Ashantee was ever seen by our troops, and an inglorious reconquest of invaded territory was won at the expense of many valuable lives. It is not, however, our purpose to recall the events of that ill-fated expedition, nor to recapitulate its deplorable history: its tale was told in the life-blood of five-and-twenty British officers, and lives in the memories of five-and-twenty British families who mourn its victims. But at a time when public interest is reawakened in a coast line over which, from Gambia to Lagos, floats the British flag, by the cession of the Dutch settlements, and when tidings of the African explorer, Livingstone, have arrived, it may not be out of place to view the African at home, and more particularly while engaged in his normal pursuit-warfare—as witnessed by the writer under peculiarly favourable circumstances. There is, however, another and primary raison d'être for this article, as may be gathered from the title, since in it we desire to record the culminative action to which the events about to be narrated were accessory and preliminary; and also because this last and most important fight, in reassertion of British rights and the supremacy of the English flag, proved the occasion for the bestowal of the latest Victoria Cross, well and gallantly earned as it was, under the personal leadership of Colonel D'Arcy, the then governor of Gambia colony-an action that is now being immortalized by the magic brush of the celebrated artist of the Victoria Cross Gallery. The district north of Sierra Leone, and extending upwards to the French settlements of Senegal, is known by the comprehensive title of Gambia; and is, for the most part, inhabited by a warlike Mahomedan tribe called Mandingoes, who again are subdivided into castes or sects, termed Marabouts and Soninkees. This latter distinction of tribal denomination was caused by religious dissension; for, as in our own Church, in days gone by, fierce bickerings ensued upon the adoption of a square or a round cap, so, with the Mandingoes, the crucial test of strict Mahomedanism was declared to be the shaving of the head, and the bitter animosity thereby engendered led to cruel and remorseless acts of internecine strife. But other subjects of dispute soon arose, or were more probably originated by a wily Marabout chief named Maba, who took advantage of the unsettled times to proclaim a hierarchy. His success was so decided, that a crusade under his auspices was levied against all Soninkees who refused to shave the head, abstain from drink, and acknowledge the supremacy of the dominant faction. Thus, as the religious war spread far and near, petty chiefs took up the quarrel on either side, and fought and fell in the cause of church or state. Bordering on our territory, at the mouth of the river Gambia, were two rival states, whose chiefs had as yet taken no part in the contest; and now, when symptoms of a bellicose character became apparent, our Government naturally watched with anxiety the course of events, and jealously guarded the frontier line from the incursion of either party; and, in addition to these defensive measures, the writer was commissioned, in a peaceful capacity, to proceed to the scene of action, with the view of bringing the belligerents to reason. It would be needless to trouble the reader with details, but so much must be recounted of the immediate cause of war as is requisite to comprehend succeeding events. The Sumar, or Prime Minister, of the Soninkees had, by virtue of his office, been entrusted with the charge of the public magazine, which had been naturally stored with fresh supplies to meet the expected invasion of the Marabout usurper. When, however, this chief appeared to pursue a different direction in his conquests, the Sumar seized the opportunity of enriching himself at the cost of the community, by appropriating the matériel of war. On this dishonesty being discovered, and when his life was threatened in consequence, the scoundrel fled with his plunder to the capital of a neighbouring Marabout republic, and crowned his villainy by apostasy. His head was shaved in public; and having thus become a follower of the Prophet, he was enabled to hire a band of warriors to revenge himself on his countrymen; and, at the head of these mercenaries, he attacked and took, with some slaughter, a frontier Soninkee stronghold, and expelled its inhabitants. It was at this juncture of affairs that I arrived. The Soninkees were not long in forming a column of attack, and marched to meet their foes. The advance was rapid, and the mode of attack agreed upon for the following morning was by stealthy approaches through the thick bush around: to set fire to their own town, and massacre the Marabouts in their efforts to escape. But they, foreseeing the danger, engaged a working party throughout the night in felling timber and cutting down the brushwood in the vicinity of the stockades, which were strengthened and loopholed for action. Most African towns are environed by some sort of breastwork, well calculated to keep invaders at bay; but in war times these stockades assume a very formidable aspect when formed of heavy timber, firmly riveted, and thickened at the base by earthworks. It could scarcely be imagined with what rude skill these works were constructed in the few hours of that watchful night; but as the moon sank beneath the clouded horizon, and the first gray streaks of coming day illumined the country around, a smoke-enveloped flame, forked, fierce, and far-spreading, rushed through the shorn grass and dry leafy branches of the felled lime and orange trees, which just now had adorned the park-like approach to the picturesque stronghold; and another round the loins, was the light and airy costume of most of the swarthy warriors. Others were more decently draped with the graceful native pang, a garment resembling a Highland plaid; while not a few rejoiced in a torn and filthy outer garment, scarcely recognizable as the discarded shirt of some wandering European trader; but by each and all, whether dressed or nude, was worn the inevitable gree-gree or charm, round the neck, encircling the waist, loading the arms or fettering the legs. Whether the precious sentences of the Koran thus doing duty as a religious cloak may also avert danger is open to the sneering doubt of unbelievers in the Prophet; but we can well imagine their thick leather envelopes, many a time when whistling emissaries seek their billets, receive or turn a bullet intended for the flesh behind. The Mahomedan's faith in the gree-gree goes a long way, at any rate, in preserving his courage; and it is astonishing how cool these fanatics become in the thickest of the fight if, in its earlier stages, any special intervention of Providence can be ascribed to the gree-gree. moreover, a reinforcement of Marabouts, E arriving by forced marches outside the camp of the Soninkees, effected an entrance into the back of the town unperceived by the Soninkee outposts. Sorties were now made, and skirmishing took place hourly, but without material loss on either side. Taking advantage of the present state of things, and in accordance with instructions received, I now summoned the Marabout chiefs to a conference under a huge cotton tree, within musket-shot of the beleaguered city. How Africans delight in a palaver is proverbial; and even at such a crisis as the present, the chiefs could not forego the pleasure which the opportunity afforded of at once exhibiting to the tubabo (white man) their diplomatic resources, and proving their crafty duplicity of purpose. Thither, therefore, they flocked in great numbers at the sound of the war drum, each chief preceded by his court jester, who yelled his achievements, and followed by a ragged body-guard armed with muskets, spears, and broad-bladed swords or machetes, slung in elaborate leather scabbards. A piece of dirty cotton corded round the head, TABLE TALK. VERYBODY has heard of the famous and witty Rowland Hill, whose scene of action in his day was the dingy decagonal building in the Blackfriars-road, in which Mr. Newman Hall is at present the presiding genius. But we do not think that much is known of Rowland Hill beyond the broad fact that he was a popular preacher, somewhat given to eccentricity of expression and illustration at times. We are told that he was of a good old Shropshire family-uncle of the Lord Hill who played so prominent a part as one of Wellington's lieutenants in the Peninsular War. He was intended for orders; but although, after being rejected. for irregularity by six bishops, a seventh was hardy enough to ordain him deacon, he was unsuccessful in finding one to make him a priest. So he attached himself more or less to the Methodists; built Surrey Chapel in 1783; and, in addition to constant preaching itinerancy, remained its minister until his death, fifty years afterwards. THE VERSES headed "Jabberwocky," in Lewis Carroll's "Through the Looking Glass," have been made pretty good use of. Punch incorporated their fun into the poem with which it celebrated the close of the Tichborne trial; and "Waggawock" was read by a great many people who had never seen "Jabberwocky." And "Macmillan" (No. 148) perpetrated a little hoax, not to be expected in such a staid magazine, in an article, "The Jabberwock traced to its true source: by Thomas Chatterton." This source was said to be the German of Hermann Von Schwindel. By many readers it was taken in sober earnest. Overlooking the ominous names of Chatterton and Schwindel, they were completely taken in by the apparent good faith. of this foot-note, which accompanied the discovery- "The English version of the poem, as it appears in 'Through the Looking Glass,' is here printed side by side with the German, that the reader may see for himself how close a resemblance (unaccountable on any theory of mere accidental coincidence) exists between the two.-ED. M. M." "Macmillan" was about the last print in the world in which one would have expected to find the editor poking such fun at his readers. Of course, most of them could not read German. One good German scholar, however, was so far taken in by the verses "Der Jammerwoch" as to write to Heidelberg, to a savant there, to learn something more about them, under the impression for the moment, that they were written in some patois of the tongue of the Fatherland. But the mistake was discovered by the writer before the letter reached Heidelberg. The real source of "Jabberwocky," however, I believe to be the poem entitled "Estivation," in "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," by Oliver Wendell Holmes (published 1858): I WONDER Dr. Cumming, among his other dire prophecies, has never taken earthquakes into his stock. I only hope, if he adopts my hint, that his vaticinations will be as harmless as his previous oracular responses of the same cheerful tone;-unlike a certain monk in the thirteenth century, who, in order to oblige the Emperor Andronic to recall from exile the patriarch Athanasius, threatened him with divers plagues-an earthquake among the rest: the earthquake really occurred in Constantinople within three days after the prediction. Contributions should be legibly written, and only on one side of each leaf. Communications to the Editor should be addressed to the Office, 19, Tavistock-street, Covent-garden, W. C. Terms of Subscription for ONCE A WEEK, free by post:-Weekly Numbers for Six Months, 5s. 5d.; Monthly Parts, 5s. 8d. READY-MONEY MORTIBOY. A MATTER-OF-FACT STORY. CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH. ICK'S death was hard enough for Ghrimes; but, as the lawyer said, what would it be for Frank? He received the letter containing Dick Mortiboy's offer. It came on the Monday evening, the day before Dick's murder. He read it with an emotion which he thought he had almost conquered-for he read in it the signal to him to leave his uncongenial life, and go back to his own position. His heart beat high with joy. It was not only Dick's free and generous offer-it was Grace's command that he should take it. It was the recall of his sister and mother to the place where all their friends lived, and all their interests were centred;-a letter of recall and pardon to an exile: the restoration of a prince to his own again. "You've got good news, Mr. Melliship?" asked Patty, looking at his heightened colour and flashing eyes. "Good news? Yes, Patty, very good. The best possible. The best news that ever was brought to any poor, unlucky beggar." But his pride. How was he to reconcile his pride to accepting help from the son of his father's enemy? Pride-yes, he had some slight grounds for pride. In the first place, he could be independent so long as his voice lasted. That VOL. IX. Price 2d. great and splendid gift, a tenor voice, was his. It lay with him to accept Mr. Leweson's offer to go to Italy, and study for a year or two, and then to return and make his fortune. It was certain that he could do so. But to return to the bank-to go back to the old life again! He walked out to call on Mr. Eddrup. The old man was dressed, and sitting on his chair, too feeble to move. Frank told him the great offer which had been made him. Perfect confidence existed between the two by this time. Frank had told him all his life, with its disappointments and misfortunes. "Take it," said Mr. Eddrup. "I, too, have an offer to make you. I shall make it with all the more confidence, if I know that you are rich, and therefore can command the influence of wealth." "What is it?" "I have no children, no relations, except a few cousins, who are already wealthy, and who have lost sight of me for many, many years. I want to leave you all my moneyin trust-in trust to find some one, if you can, to carry on the work which I have done. Would that you could carry it on yourself!" "But how shall I find a man?" "Silver is the man for you. He has enthusiasm-he has energy--he has the power of administration-he has sympathy. Let Silver be my successor." "Then, why not leave him the money in trust?” "Because he would not quite understand. He would be trying to make it a means of forming a society, with rules and creeds, and so crystallize and kill what I want to grow and develop. Remember, young man, faith is the fertilizer-creed is the destroyer. Further, I want you to bequeath the property after your death, so that it may be used by your successor--whom you will have to find-in the same spirit. I will not lay down rules. I will not add another to the chari NO. 234. ties which already do so much harm. I want my money to be used always in the most intelligent manner possible to the time;never by a committee." On Wednesday afternoon Frank sat down to write his letter. As he began-"My dear Dick," a boy came shouting down the street, with an early edition of the Echo. Frank, moved by some impulse, opened the window and beckoned the boy. Then he left his letter-writing for awhile, and leisurely began to read. Presently, Patty knocked at the door. She found him staring vacantly before him, with the paper in his hands. The last few days had been a time of trial for the poor girl. She saw, by Frank's manner on Monday, that something was going to happenshe knew not what-which would sever him from her. She had been striving herself— bitterly, but steadily-to look the truth in the face. Frank did not love her. In spite of his kind ways and little attentions-the sweeter to Patty because she had never known them before, and was never to know them again he had never loved her. And she, poor girl, had given all her heart to him. For his sake she spent sleepless nights, devising things which would please him; and careful days, watching to see if she had pleased him. All the little arts which she knew-few enough-she practised, to catch his eye. For him she had learned to despise the calling in which she had once. almost gloried, and herself for practising it. She sat down before him, and waited, hands clasped, for him to speak. "Patty," he said at last, seeing her beside him, "a dreadful thing has happened. Read that. He was my cousin. I was to have been his partner; and now he is dead. I was writing to him when I bought the paper. I am a beggar again." "Then you are just the same as you were last Sunday?" Her heart gave a little exultant bound. "The same? No. Are you the same if, when you are thirsty, some one dashes the cup from your lips? You are thirsty still, you say. Yes; but you are more than thirsty you are maddened. Patty, I have had the cup dashed from my lips. I cannot think of poor Dick Mortiboy. I can only think of myself. I am only selfish in my sorrow." The final blow had fallen. Patty turned white, and bit her lips; for the blood left her cheeks, and she felt as if she would faint. Presently he made an effort to speak. "How can I go to her now-to the girl I love? How can I say take me—I am a beggar and you an heiress-take me?" "If she loves you, what matter does it make? If I loved a man, do you think it would matter to me that I had-oh! hundreds of pounds, and he had nothing? Mr. Melliship, if she loves you, you must go to her. Perhaps I don't understand. I always thought that when people loved each other they don't care for money. Is it not so? I mean rich people. Of course, we poor people never think about it, because we never have any money to think about at all. That is a good thing for us, so far. Tell me more, Mr. Melliship. Does she know that you love her still? Have you promised each other?" "Yes-too late! Yes-long ago-when I was rich." "And-and-but I suppose I can't understand. Are you too proud to go to her? But she knows you have no money-there is nothing to hide. If you loved her before, of course you go on loving her now. Do all ladies' hearts change when they have money? What is her name?" "Grace Heathcote." "Grace Heathcote! a pretty name Grace Heathcote! Does she live in the same town with your cousin who is dead?— what is it?" She looked at the paper again. "Market Basing?" "Near it-ten miles out, at a place called Hunslope. At Parkside Farm." "At Hunslope, ten miles out. At Parkside Farm," she repeated. Then she got up, with lips that quivered in spite of her courage, and went away. On Saturday, after their early dinner, she plucked up courage to speak to her father. "Father, I want to say something to you -two things. I can no longer go on at the Palace. Don't call me ungrateful, after the pains you've took, and all that--I'm not ungrateful, but I can't bear it any longer. I didn't know, till Mr. Melliship came and talked to me, that there was anything in it. I thought it was something to be proud of. But now I can't bear the dress; and I see the women in the place sneering, and the horrid men laughing, as I never saw them before--before Mr. Melliship came." "Mr. Melliship! Mr. Melliship! Is he in love with you, Patty?" |