Symud i'r prif gynnwys
Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

26 erthygl ar y dudalen hon



LITERARY EXTRACTS. THE MALAY RACE.—The Malay is impassive, re- served, and even bashful, so that, until one knows the race better, one can scarcely credit their blood- thirsty reputation. The Malay is entirely unde- monstrative. If he has any feelings of surprise he never shows them. Perhaps he experiences none, no matter how wonderful is the sight which meets h.s gaze. He is slow and deliberate in speech, and cir- • nmlocutory in introducing a subject to be discussed. Even the children and women are timid, and scream at the sight of a European, while in the presence of 1 he men they are silent and taciturn, Even when aione the Malay neither talks nor sings, in this respect differing much from the Papuan, who has all i he negro traits of chattering and singing to himself for company. Overpay a Malay for some trifle, and his countenance betrays no sign of emotion; a Papuan will be grave for a moment out of perfect astonishment at the mistake made, and i hen burst into peals of grinning laughter, while he bends in two, and finally rolls on the ground in ecstacies of merriment. The Malays, when in ,(-.otitpany in a canoe, chant a plaintive, monoto- nous song; at other times they are silent. The Malay is cautious of giving offence to any one, Tld accordingly will hesitate to quarrel about money matters, and rather abandon a just debt due to him than run the risk of a feud with his equals. In his -ordinary life he is as impassive as the typical Scot, into whose head it does not require a surgical opera- t ion to insert a joke, and as fond of the nil admiiran line of conduct, as the American Indian, though, un- like him, the Malay does not dissemble his feelings or playa part. He has really little, if any, appreciation ,of humour, and does not understand a practical jest. To all breaches of etiquette he is very sensitive, and .equally jealous of any interference with his own or any- one else's liberty. To such an extent does he carry this idea, that a Malay,servant will hesitate to waken another, even his own master, though told to do so. The higher classes are exceeding polite, possessing all the repose and quiet dignity of the best-bred Euro- peans. There is, however, another side to the character of the Malay. He is reckless, cruel, and careless of human life; possesses but a poor intellect, and has neither taste for knowledge nor any in- digenous civilisation, whatever civilisation is found among them being confined to the Mohammedans and Brahmins.-Peoples of the World. THE PROCLAMATION OF "KAISER WILIIKLM."—On January 18th, the anniversary of the creation of the Prussian kingdom in 1701, the King was proclaimed German Emperor in the Hall of Mirrors of the Palace of Versailles-a gallery built by Louis XIV., decorated by Lebrun, and containing a picture on the ceiling representing France triumphing over dis- comfited Germany. Detachments of various regi- ments were .present, drawn up on one side of the gallery and in the apartments leading to it; while the other side was occupied by Staff officers, courtiers, regimental officers, and Government officials. The German standards were grouped at the other end of the hall, and in the centre was an altar for religious -service. Before the altar stood the Emperor in full uniform, with the Crown Prince at ihis right hand, and the Princes of Germany in a semicircle behind him. Outside the circle, and some distance apart on the left, stood Count Bismarck, looking pale, but calm and self-posseseed, "elevated, as it were to adopt the description of Dr. Russell- by some internal force, which caused all eyes to turn on the great figure with that indomitable face. where the will seems to be master and lord of all." The service was accompanied by instrumental music, performed by a military band, and ringing; and the sermon touched on the existing political situation. The Imperial party afterwards moved to the end of the gallery, where the standards were arranged and here the King delivered a brief speech, at the close of which the Crown Prince made some observations, concluding with a loud cry of Long live Kaiser Wilhelm!" This was greeted with a tremendous -shout. Helmets and caps were waved in the air the band struck up the National Anthem, and the air throbbed with enthusiasm. The Emperor then received the congratulations of his court. He was greatly agitated, and frequently wiped the tears from his eyes. The rest of the day was spent in banquets, and rejoicings, and the Versaillese stood sullenly about, watching the military demonstrations of their .conq uerors.-Cas¡;cll'llluslrated Historyo.f thc J''ra{tC'o- German War. A HORRIBLE DEATH.—The aboriginal, in the pearl fishery on the Australian coast, though a skilful swimmer, does not always come back from the -ocean's bed to the waiting boat after his dive for jewels in the rough. Not long ago, a native diver, full of vigour and fearless, reached the bottom, and ffoami ng in quest of shells found his hand in the grip of a pearl oyster. The gaping mcuth closed like a vice on the diver's hand. Now the expert toiler in •the deep, however great his lung power, cannot, unless encased in diving-dress and helmet, remain tlive under water more than two rninutes or, in very rare cases, two and a half minutes. Many of the men are unable to hold their breath more than sixty or eighty seconds; and the entrapped diver knew that he must act quickly. He pulled with all his might, and wrestled madly for release; but the more frantically he fought the greater became the pearl oyster's tenacity. One, two, three four—the seconds flashed by, hurrying him in their swift inexorable fight into eternity. He brought of his home by the forest, of wife, and child; and with -every nerve at full tension, and his mind in a whirl of fear, he wrenched hisarm till itcracked as it threatened to spring from the socket. But the pearl oyster's lips had snapped together. No human effort without -weapon, could open them. Vainly, with brain on fire, 'with veins throbbing, and aching limbs, the driver made one last desperate struggle to get free. Then nature could no longer endure. His chest was at its ntmoat expansion, his breathing pent up till hie heart -ftuttered and his brain was on fire. He seemed to be floating in a crimson sea. Swiftly came the dread moment of inevitable inhalation but water instead of air surged into his mouth, and the man's lifeless form, head downward, swayed gently in the under- current, with his hand still in the pearl oyster's grip! --Peril and Patriotism. THE NEEDLES.—From Headon Hill it is but a short walk down to Alum Bay, whence is to be obtained by far the most picturesque view of the Needles. The chalk cliffs here are worn into capricious curves, hollowed into caverns, and rent into chasms by the action of the leaping waves, which in stormy weather dash against the coast with terrific violence, hiding the topmost pinnacle of the head- lands in showers of spray. When the level rays of sunset flash on the high crags that stand like immov- able sentinels guarding a lonely shore when their pale fronts glow with a hundred reflected hues when the dark shadows in their thousand crevices are warmed to a rich purple; and the spray-drops hanging on the rude jutting corbels gleam with liquid trans- parency, these huge rocks take a marvellous resem- blance to mountain peaks fretted with the frost of Centuries, or to icebergs rent and fractured by some sudden convulsion. When the moonlight shines on them through the warm haze of a summer night, and the harsh lines and shadows are softened to the semblance of man's handiwork, they might be the spires and pinnacles of somegrand cathedral cleaving the sky above the midnight mists of a slumbering southern city. In the calm of a summer day this buy is very .charming. The various tints on the diversified etrata of the eastern cliffs, the sparkle of the alkaline sands, the cold sheen of the iceberg-like Needles. and the changing colours of the sea, have a power of fascination for the lover 'of Nature that more beautiful scenes often lack. In such a place one will often lingerlistlessly. recardlessof passing time, while his fancy follows the flight of the sea-birds or the track of the swift-sailing ships, until daylight 'fades to twilight, twilight deepens into darkness, and on the farthermost, point of rock shines like.a star the light that, has served to Hash on many an eiile tit" iast farewell of Old England; and to many a weary -wanderer on the face of the earth the first welcome home.—Picturesque Europe. AN ANECDOTE OP LEWIS CARROLL.—My hair was a great trouble to me as a child, for it would tangle, and Mary was not. over and above patient as I twisted and turned when she wished to dress it. Sb one day I received a long, blue envelope addressed to myself ("letters are always so delightful to cliildren-tliev raise them almost to the ranks of the grown-ups "), it-nd there was a story-letter, all full of drawings, from Mr. Dodgson. The firrt picture was cf a little girl —hat off and tumbled hair very much en evidence,— asleep on a rustic bench under a big tree by the side of a river (supposed to be the dear old seat in the Botanical Gardens), and two birds holding an evidently most important conversation above in the branches, their heads on one side, eyeing the sleeping child. The next picture, fhe; two birds, flying with twigs and stf,aW'i fTeParing to build a nest; the child still s^^ng arid the birds chirping and, twittering with thw delight of building their nest Tii the tangled naif of the child. Next came the awakening. The work complete, the mother-bird on her nest, the father-bird njing round the frightened child. And then, lastly, hmdred of hirds-the air thick with them the child fleeing; small boys with tin trumpets raised to their lips, and Nurse Mary, with a basket of brushes and coinbs, bringing up the rear! All this, with the well-drawn- out story, cured me of this fault, and Mary, in after- life, told me she had no more trouble just to open the letter and show the unhappy child in the picture, and I was passive as a lamb. Sometimes father would say, patting my head, Anymore nests to-day, j Ducky ? Birds would not have a chance now with I this smooth little head."—Edith Alice Maitla.nd in J Childish Memories of Lewis Carroll," in The Quirtr. > KILLING TIME IN PRISON.—During the war between Spain and Cuba, a journalist of California WAR arrested and found himself in Morro Castle, without liberty to communicate with his friends. There Le remained for two days, and his mental experiences as a prisoner are thus set down by Mnrat, Halstead The window in his cell wan 10 feet above the ground, and leading to it were marks left. by the feet of man) prisoners. He, too, climbed np. The view was fine, but. a guard ran up from outside and poked at. him with his bayonet. As an amusement during all that day. he watched for chances to clamber up again and get down before the man with the bayonet could reach him. He counted the number of boards in the floor the number of beams in the ceiling, and the number of bars in the window. Thechanging of the guard was a sensational incident, and about noon they brought him a tin basin full of soldiers' soup and beans, with a coal-oil can full of water. The soup was strong and scummy," and the can had been so recently emptied of its original contents that there was a film of oil over the top. Before dark." he said, I was glad of the excitement of sitting very still and waiting breathlessly to see if an old rat, whose head I had caught peeping through a crack, would come out again. I spent the hours before I could go to sleep, in a vain endeavour to head that rat off from the hole, and when at last I closed my eyes, there on the floor, with my overcoat for bed and covering, it was the longest day I had ever spent. Of course I could not sleep the night through. The half hourly cry of Sentinela alerts was interesting: at first, but I got to hate it before morning, and morning was a long time in coming. In one sound sleep I was startled into wakefulness by what I thought was a hand upon my face. It was not a hand it was my old friend, the big grey rat, curious about my hair." A liberal use of silver had some effect, for at daylight came a cup of coffee, a rare favour. The next day it was the same thing. over and over. He inspected the cell, counted the boards, wished the guards would change oftener. took long walks around his cell. and tied wonderful knots with a piece of twine that had been wound about his breakfast. Scratching his name and the date with a rusty nail was another pleasureable em- ployment. So the two days passed, and they seemed an eternity. A NEW Boy AT RUGBY. The great delight of a Rugby boy in the old days was fishing, within bounds or without. Many a raid was made on the schools for the five large fire-shovels which were kept there. Boys dig worms with them," -says as writer pathetically, and leave them, and other take them. Hence these, and so also Tin Pots vanish —so knives vanish—with forks, plates, &c." The unlucky head-master was always bringing new ones. and always they silently vanished away. Armed with these lifted tin pots, full of worms dug by lifted shovels, knives, forks, &c., the boys sallied forth for their sport. Certain ponds along the D unchurch-road were known only to the elder boys, who used to hie thither in all secrecy and spend many an hour m the gentle craft. Walter Savage Landor was an expert in fishing, and of one day's sport we have an amusing re- cord from the pen of Charles Reade, which deserves quoting: My father, John Reade, of Ipsden, Oxon." he writes, was sent to Rugby at eight years of age. Next day, in the afternoon, a much bigger boy espied him, and said, Hy, you new boy, I want you.' It was to carry a casting-net. Young Re-ide found it rather heavy. Master Landor cast the net several times in a certain water, and caught nothing. There- upon he blamed his attendant. You are the cause of this,' said he. I begin to fear you are a boy of ill omen' (sic.). He cast again, and drew a blank. Decidedly,' said Master Landor, you are a boy of ill omen. However,says he, we won't lay it on the Fates till we have tried all mortal means. Sapiens dominabitur astris. We must poach a little.' Ac- cordingly he proceeded to a forbidden preserve. At the gate stood a butcher, contemplating heifers at feed, I say, butcher, let me fish the brook there. Well, sir, 'tain't mine.' Then what objection can you possibly have ?' Why, master, I ha'n't no objection; but, you see "Much obliged,say6 this smart boy, and entered the field directly, cast in the brook, but caught nothing. Reade,' said he, this is not to be borne. You are a boy of too ill oman. Now here is a favourite hole if I catch nothing in it I shall yield to your evil Destiny but, I warn you I shall make you carry the net home, and I shall flick you all the way with my handkerchief." Little Reade looked very rueful at that.. The net even when dry had seemed mortal heavy to him, and -he began to calculate how much more it would weijrh when wet and dirty. The net was cast—a good circle —drawn steadily to land, and lo! struggling in it meshes a pike of really unusual size. Master Landor raised a shout ot triumph; then instantly remember- ing his partner, he turned to Master Reade Wel- come to Rugby, sir, welcome! You are a boy of ex- cellent omen. I'll carry the net home. and yon shall sup off this fish; it is the joint production of my skill and your favourable £ta.r: Next day there was a complaint against him for fishing out of bounds. Mr. X. (the butcher) gave me leave,' said he quietly."—A History «f Rugby School, by W. ll. lJ. Bouse. HARROW SCHOOL IN OLD DAYS.—Life did not con- sist wholly of pains and penalties Wellington was winning victories in the Peninsula, and victories meant holidays for Harrow—as did the visits of dis- tinguished persons. There were seven holidays and two half-holidays in 15 days from Jtine 24 to ttily 8, 1813. It might, have been supposed that there was little need of extra relaxation when Tuesday was a weekly holiday, as were Saints' days, the King's birthday, Gunpowder and Accession days, four Speech days, and many others. Cricket was played on a steep bank, football aud rackets in the school- yard. But there were other pursuits w)th a flavour of illegality which increased their zest. A consider- able business was done in gunpowder and fireworks. Duck-puddle was used for testing cannon and sailing-boats; the unsavoury ponds which abound in that part part of Middlesex were dragged for fish and Jack-a-lantern long held its ground against hostile edicts. This most popular sport consisted of a chase by night, after a boy carrying a lantern, whose aim it was to lead his pursuers over the dirtiest ditches and most, impracticable hedges he could find. Nor were the fleshy appetites denied. A bill has been handed down from 1788 by which, even under the disguise of the pastry-cook's spelling, we get, a glimpse of the tastes of a youthful I" ,tell i iis-- one Daniell Griffitlis-who in six months expended ten pounds on veal poy and muck turtle, shery torte and glace ice. potte rasbury," and suchlike delicacies. '1 The cricket of early days partook of the nature of the ground ttfiQn which it was played. Its present scien- tific form dates from the advent on the scene of'- Bob" Grimston and Fred Ponsonby—names which will ever live in grateful remembrance. An estimate of the respective points of Eton, Winchester, and Harrow, while ascribing more showy qualities to the two first, credits Harrow with the very characteristics which it was the life-long aim of its two voluntary 11 y preceptors to impress upon it. It was on the rigour of the game that they insisted. But their teaching went far deeper. It was the spirit of unselfish devo- tion which they preached by their lives-siiiiiii)ed up in their familiar adage that it was the duty not only of a cricketer, but of a gentleman to play for his side and not for himself. In the days of Dr. Words- worth the grass was said to have grown in the streets of Harrow; but a former captain of the eleven makes the spirited retort that if it grew in the street it did not grow under their feet. The school numbered only (;9 when Dr. Wordsworth left, but in the two previous year-! they won the matches against both Eton and Winchester. This spirit has been maintained, and with far inferior numbers Harrow heads the list by tw.o in the matches against Eton-that. contest which was so harrowing to Robert Grimston that he could scarcely trust, himself to be an eye-witness. The modern schoolboy is said to be more staid than his father; but, in spite of the match having become a function of the London seaion. it still calls up, as few other things do, the memories of the past. Happy is the place which can fill up the gap of death from its own ranks. And on none could the mantle have fallen more fitly than on 1. D. Walker. Born of a family of Harrovians and, cricketers, he inherited the traditions of Ponsonby and Grimston, and proved himself pre-eminently worthy of them. Inlns successor, Mr. A. J. Webbe, Harrow has secured the services of a cricketer who, besides being a brilliant batsman and field, has established the reputation, wherever cricket is played, of never giving up a game till it is lost. Qitartei-ly Review. EMILY BnoKTE will, to many of us, always be the most interesting female figure in our literature, as she was assuredly the greatest of our women poets.— Clement Shorter. LET every dawn of morning be to you as the beginning of life, and every setting sun be to you as its close—then let everyone of these short lives leave its sure record of some kindly thing done for others —some goodly strength or knowledge gained for yourselves.—Buskin.

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