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Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

9 erthygl ar y dudalen hon



— LITERARY EXTRACTS. JH PRINCE'S FAITH IN SCIENCE.—When the lata ^on Playfair was Professor of Chemistry at Edin- burgh the Prince of Wales was his pupil. One day the Prince and Playfair were standing near a caul- dron containing lead which was boiling at white heat. "Has your Royal Highness any faith in science?" ofid Playfair. Certainly," replied the Prince. Uayfair then carefully washed the Prince's hand with ammonia to get rid of any grease that might be on it. 4"Will you now place your hand in this boiling metal, 41od ladle out a portion of it ?" he said to his dis- tinguished pupiL Do you tell me to do this ?" asked She Prince. "I do," replied Playfair. The Prince in- itantly put his hand into the cauldron, and ladled Out some of the boiling lead without sustaining any injury. — Memoir* and Correspondence of Lord Play- fair, by Sir Wemyss Tieid. HAery lNprrtEwcm.- According to a recent book '.imtitled Orientations," there was once a rather ob- scure Englishman, who, after being converted, read his Bible so assiduously—in preference to a lon P, on newspaper—that his wife became concerned for his -mnity, and he was subsequently examined by a specialist in lunacy, with a funny and pathetic result. The doctor's first questions were feelers." I mean," said he at length, slowly and very impres- sively, do you see things that other people d- not •ee ?" Alas! yes 1" was the patient's reply. I» see Folly stacking on a 'obby 'orse." "Do you, really? Anything else ?" asked the doctor, making a note of the fact. I see Wickedness and Vice beating the land with their wings." Sees things beating tith their wings," wrote down the doctor. I see niipery and un'appiness everywhere." "Indeed!" said the doctor. Has delusions. Do you think your wife put things in yofir tea?" "Yes." "Ah!" thought rthe doctor. That's what I wanted to get at-Thinks people are trying to poison him. What is it they pot in, my man ?" Milk and sugar," answered. the pktient. l m!" said the specialist. Then he wrote, 44 Very dull mentally!" THE TRIALS OF A LECTURER.—" Ian Maclaren ^Contributes a most amusing paper to the November number of Pearson's Magazine, describing his experi- ences as a lecturer in England and in the States. Discussing chairmen, Mr. Maclaren says: My ex- Erience of chairmen is wide and varied, and I have stured under the presidency of some very distin- guished and able men, but on the whole I would -father be without a chairman. There was one who introduced me in a single sentence of five minutes' length, in which he stated that as he would treasure every word I said more than pure gold he did not with tocurtail my time by a single minute. He then fell fast asleep, and I had the honour of waking'him at the close of the lecture. Had he slept anywhere else I should not have had the smallest objectipn, but his restful attitude in the high estate of the chair had an unedifying and discomposing effect em the audience. On the whole, I preferred that chairman to another who introduced me to the extent of twenty-five minutes, and occupied the time in commending to the exasperated audience the claims cf a foundling hospital with which he had some charitable connection. This time it was the lecturei -who fell asleep, and had to be awakened whei the audience drove the chairman to his seat. A lecturer « is also much refreshed amid his labour by the assurance of the chairman that he has simply liyed upon his book for years, and has been looking for- ward to this evening for the last three months with 4iigh expectation, when after these flattering remarks he does not know your name, and can only put it before the audience after a hurried consultation with the ceeretary of; the lecture course. My memory -teturns also with delight to a chairman whe insisted that one object had brought them together, and that I was no stranger in that town, because the whole audience before him were my friends, -and then, having called me Doctor Maclaren and Ian Watson, besides having hinted more than cace at Dr. Barrie. introduced me to an hilarious audience as Mr. Ian John Maclaren Watson. It is, of course, my gain, and the loss of two more dis- tinguished fellow courttrymen, that I should be hope- lessly associated in the minds of many people with Mr. Crockett and Mr. Barrie. But when one speaker declared that I would be remembered by grateful posterity by the Stickit Minister, I was inclined tc protest, for whatever have been my defects as a preacher, I still have succeeded in obtaining a church; and when another speaker explained he had gone three times to see my Little Minister.' I felt Obliged to deny myself the authorship of that de- lightful play." A Gbnmmal SYMONS SToity: THE Mi* wrrfc THI VMHTLOCK.—Symons was one of the coolest, most daring men that it has ever been my good fortune to come across. I remember on one occasion in Burma we received information that Boh Lah-Oo, a re- doubtable daeoit leader, was lying up in a patch of Cgle about 20 miles away. Symons was up in hot te, and within half an hour the column; of 75 mounted infantry, reinforced by two squadrons of Bengal cavalry, had started in hot ptu suit. It was -impossible to locate the enemy, so Symons fprmed ■one long line, and we swept at a hard gallop through the open jungle. It was a difficult country, inter- spersed with high banks and deep ravines men and bones came down in dozens. I was riding behind Symons on the extreme left of the line. Buddenly we came upon a broad ravine with steep banks literally packed with men, and on the other side of.the ravine was Lah-Oo, the man we had been hunting day and night for the past two months. I do not think there were more than 10 of ue altogether. Riding down was impossible, so Synibnt slipped off his horse and slid down the bank, followed by the remainder. Symons literally elbowed his way through the mass of men in his eagerness to get across to the opposite bank, who were too dumb- founded to do anything. On a ridge on the sloping bank crouched a piaiv with an old flintlock. He tool a steady aim point blank at Symons. Jllstas h waf in the act of pulling the trigger Symons noticed him and moved steadily in his direction. He did not alter his pace, and quietly drew his sWord. Not a muscle of his face moved as the man fired. The fowder flashed in the pan and the next irtopient yuions had cleft him from forehead to chin, and the man rolled dead at his feet. Symons returned his sword, and started to climb the bank as if nothing had happened.—From Recollections of General Symons, by one who served with him, .in To-Day. THE COMING MAN IN GERMANY,—For some years past Count Waldersee has been looked upon alike by friends and foes as the coming man in Germany. Even in the eighties, when the Bismarcks were in the bey-dey of their power, ,courtiers who pride them- selves on their genius for detecting rising suds were all doffing their hats before him and doing him re- Terence. Countess Waldersee's salon was a much- frequented resort in those days, and the Countess Aerself wielded more power socially than the Xaiøérin and Crown Princess put together. For not only was she the wife of a distinguished soldier and .diplomatist Moltke's coadjutor and Bismarck's pro- bable successor—and the widow of a Royal prince, but she was also the most popular woman in Berlin, She WM one of the leaders, too, of that religio-politi- cal movement in which, if the' Kreuzzeitung is to be believed, lies Germany's only hope of salvation. Prince Bismarck, it is true, always looked on her askance, and dubbed her as dangerous even before he •came to fear her husband as his aontHerberts rival. For a brilliant American with an innate love bf in- trigue, she was, and is, the very incarnation of every- thing he hated most inwoven. Besides he knewj, and he accounted it unto hern a crime that she bad great influence over both then present Kaiser, then Prince William, and his wife: that she was. in fact. the con- fidential friend of the one and the chosen adviser and guide of the other. And he shrewdly suspected that the day might come when she would use her influence 10 make his best-laid plans gang agley. Nor was he in this far wrong, for hardly were Kaiser Frederick's ,oyes closed before the very air was alive with rumours of Waldersee plots and intrigues, and from that day to this Waldersee has been the Junkers' rallying cry in every Cabinet crisis in Berlin. When Bis- marck fell it was taken for granted that the Count would at once step into his place the same conviction prevailed, too, when Count Caprivi was sent on his way; and now that Prince Hohenlohe's days as Chancellor are numbered, his name is again to the fore. The Waldersees will be installed in Wilhelm- strasse before many weeks have passed," is a remark one bears on every side in Germany just now. Yes and s lively time we shall have then," is the reply as (often as not.-World. THE Nsrws OR THE BATTLB How AUSTERIITZ KILLED P--To recruit his shattered health Pitt, the younger, had constant recourse to the waters and regimen of Bath. During his last fatal lease of power Pitt was constantly compelled to resort to Sath. He stayed at 15, Johnstone-street, off Pulteney- otreet. Pitt was living in this quiet, stolid house in 1805 when the fatal news of Austerlitz reached him. The battle was fought on December 2. A week or so later Pitt had driven over to the house of a Mr. Wiltshire, at Shockerwick, to view some pictures by Gainsborough. While examining a portrait of Quin his quick ear caught the sounds of furious galloping. 44 That must be a messenger for me, exclaimed Pitt. Instantaneously a messenger, splashed and ruffied with hard riding, entered and handed a despatch to the Premier. He tore it open, Heavy news!" he gasped. "Brandy, quick!" Swallowing half a g]w #f the quickly-brought spirit, he concluded the read- ing of the despatch which told of the shattering of an his plans by the defeat of the Allies at Austerlita. He returned to Bath, and the next day set out for London. But in his wrecked condition the journey took three days. On January 23 Pitt died, killed by Austerlitz.—Wedmineter Gktcette, A GENERAL'S CHICKEN.—In General Shafter's quarters at San Francisco is a fine, glossy, "black Spanish pullet. which, if it had the power of speech, ,onld tell a thrilling and pathetic story. Early in July, 1898, when the American Army in Cuba was supplying food to the starving reconcentrados in El Caney. a terrific storm wrought such havoc to the roads that it became impossible to convey further sup- plies to the town. General Shafter therefore issued an order that all who were able might walk to his camp, six miles away, and draw rations. The order set in motion one of the saddest processions that ever followed in the wake of war. Ragged, hungry, weak, emaciated, a line of spectres daily wound its awful length through swamp and mud and jungle toward the blessed food. Lieutenant Brooke and an interpreter were returning to camp from El Caney one day, when they saw a little band of the reconcen- trados ahead of them. Behind the men and women lagged a six-year-old boy. He was evidently sick and weary unto death, but still he tottered per- sistently on. At length, his last ounce of strength gone, he fell, and lay there in the mud, unable to rise. His father and mother glanced back at him stolidly, and went on. Theirown strength would be hardly sum- cient to carry them to camp, and suffering had dullell their sensibilities. If he could not keep up, he must die where he fell. Lieutenant Brooke dropped from his horse, picked the little fellow up, and galloped into camp with him. There he fed him till, lje could eat no more, wrapped him in warm blankets, and left him to the long. dreamless sleep of exhausted child- hood. An old Cuban woman washed his little cotton shirt and trousers, and after a few days' rest, he was sent back to El Caney with a generous supply of pro- visions. Two days later the little fellow, still weak and pale, again appeared in camp. Going straight to Lieutenant Brooke, he took a small chicken from in- side his little shirt, and with tears in his eyes, pre- sented it. It was the only thing he could give him, he said, to show his appreciation of the senor's kind- ness. He had walked all the way from El Qiney through the deep mud, and after he had made his humble present, he walked back. Lieutenant Brooke took the chicken to General Shafter and told its story. The general tethered it to his tect-pele. When he entered Santiago, be took the bird with him. There her nightly roost was a gilded chandelier in the governor's palace. When the army moved out to camp again, the chicken went, too. Later, she jour- neyed to Montauk Point, thence to Governor's Island, and now she struts and scratches and cackles con- tentedly in San Francisco, a living reminder of a deed of mercy, a pathetic acknowledgment, of the gratitude with which at least one little reconcentrado will always recall los Americanos." A MIDSHIPMAN IN THE CRIMEA. — Sir Edmund Verney, Bart., recalling Mr. Rudyard Kipling's re- mark that an admiral knows a midshipman as the Almighty knows a blackbeetle, says that it was as a black beetle that he beheld the Crimean War. In the columns of the current number of the Contemporary Review he relates some of his personal experiences of that eventful time. When I served in the Britannia, lying in the Bosphorous, I was the jolly-boat mid- shipman, and my duty it was to go on shore svery morning to bring off the beef for the ship's company this is not an altogether acceptable duty; it involves turning out very early in all weathers, and notwith- standing precautions with tarpaulins and mats, the beef is apt to make the boat dirty. Besides, there is, I am sorry to say, a disposition to hold rather cheap a jolly-boat midshipman (who is really a deserving and indispensable officer), and to depreciate him and his ;boat in favour of the more aristocratic cutter midshipman. But there is one consolation not to be despised, the beef-contractor is always expected to give him a perquisite, consisting, it may be, of a heart, a tongue, kidneys, or liver; when this is brought down to the mess for breakfast, hot and well-cooked from the galley, the jolly-boat midshipman is for the moment highly-respected, and has many friends. This is one of those blessed "commissions which will now be slain by the Bill of Lord Russell of Killowen, a nameto behence.orth of jolly-boat midshipmen held in disfavour. There was a genial old Turk usually to be seen sitting at an open window while we were Waiting fcr the beef, and it one day occurred to me to throw a pebble which smote him in the paunch; he re- sponded with an orange; after a short bombardment a truce was declared; I consented to make peace if he would allow me to visit his harem. So in the afternoon, arrayed in a white waistcoat and wearing my best jacket, I paid my visit. He .and his ladies accorded me a hospitable reception; after coffee, sweets, and narghilehs, they took me all over the premises each iisdy showed nre her special treasures, generally poor foolish trifles. Then -pome children appeared, and soon We were all romping and rolling over one another, laughing in fits, but unable to un- derstand each other much further than the estab- lished salutation of those days-" Bono Johnny," believed by the seamen to be the purest Arabic, and bv the Turk to be Society English. We parted ex- cellent friends, but the invitation was not repeated, and when we went for beef in the mornings Mr. Turk was .never JigWE visible, having always a press- ing engagement in another part of the building. The Earl of Car lisle, late Viceroy of Ireland, was among the Admiral's guests he struck us midship- men as a little wrong in his head, but I never heard whether this really was so or not. Late one evening, after a big dinner in the Admiral's cabin, he came and joined three or four of us huddled away between two guns on the quarter-deck. We were just going to have a joint supper, and he said he would like some too; each of us produced a contribution from his warm pocket; all had some ship's biscuit one had a shapeless piece of cheese, another a few sardines rolled up in greasy paper, another a cold cutlet the Admiral's steward had given him. These dainties we spread out on the deck, and in the middle arose a bottle of Crosse and Blackwell's piccalilli. Then we discussed how to get the piccalilli out of the bottle we finally borrowed the quartermaster's knife, where- with he had just been cutting up his baccy, and, then each in turn fished out some delicious morsel, usually a gherkin, sometimes a piece of cauliflower, and by rare luck an onion. We were dismayed to see Lord Carlisle, who had just risen from the Admiral's table, devouring his full share, but we were really dis- gusted when it fell to him to bring out an onion. I We never had him to supper again. The imperi- ous character of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe comss out strongly in his letter of January 24, find- I ing fault with Admiral Dundas (whom he was not very fond of) for returning from the Black Sea to the Bosphorus, quoted at length in the Life of Lord Lyons." Whether or not his strength of will led him sometimes into error, he was at Constantinople a noble and striking figure. Blackbeetle though I was, he one day in December, 1853, invited me to dinner. Noticing my devotion to a glorious plum-pudding, the like whereof was not to be seen in a gunroom, he assured me that for his part he preferred the plainer plum-duff of the ship's galley he volun- teered to make a bargain with me, that if I would send him a sailor's plum-duff he would send me the best pudding his cook could make. So when I returned on board, the plum-duff was carefully made according to regulation, and I myself carried it to the Embassy and left it for his Excellency; but I never got my plum-pudding, or any acknowledgment whatever; whether the lacqueys ate it, or whether it was given to his Excellency's pigs (if he had any) I know not; this comes of being a blackbeetle. One can believe anything of an ambassador who could so ruthlessly break a solemn treaty. Years and years afterwards I met Lord Stratford in the Lobby of the House of Commons, and reminded him that I had never had my pudding; I regret to say that he affected to have forgotten the incident. If this should meet the eye of his heirs, administrators, or assigns, I hope they will recognise their duty to vindicate his memory, and that even yet I may get my pudding. No MORS PRISON JOB HIM..—It is well known that old bachelors are perverse, so we may repeat the re- j mark made by a famous bachelor a year or two ago mark made by a famous bachelor a year or two ago without arousing suspicion of expressing sympathy with it. The Austrian who early sought adventure abroad, and who, as Slatin Pasha, rose high in the Egyptian service, spent many years of his life a cap- tive in the Soudan. When at length he was rescued, the ex-prisoner was feted and lionised in Cairo, and many a lady set her cap at him. Presently the rumour arose that the hero was engaged to be married, and one night at dinner a lady asked him point blank if it were true. Married ?" exclaimed Slatin. What, meP No, no. I haf already been prisoner twelf year—nevaire, no more." Slatin Pasha was among the most active officers in preparing for the Anglo-Egyptian expedition against the Mahdi, and so much work fell upon his shoulders that he almost broke down. As he was toiling one roasting afternoon, he said to his superior officer in a confi- dential tone: I wish I were back among the der- vishes as a prisoner. There, at any rate, I was not worked to death." Oddly enough, this chance re- mark was overheard repeatedly, and ultimately printed in an anti-British newspaper in Cairo. A copy drifted into the Soudan, and found its way into the hands of the Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi. The chief at once summoned his followers, and pointed out to them how life as a fatter-d slave among his countrymen was better than existence under the dominion of English,dogs. The tribesmen howled with approval at this new proof of e bru- tality of their English enemies. I

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