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A biographical tribute to the memory of Trim

A biographical tribute to the memory of Trim
can never speak of cats without a sentiment of regret for my poor Trim, the favourite of all our ship's company on the Spyall. This good-natured purring animal was born on board His Majesty's ship the Roundabout in 1799 during a passage from the Cape of Good Hope to Botany Bay; and saving the rights and titles of the Parish of Stepney, was consequently an Indian by birth. The signs of superior intelligence which marked his infancy procured for him an education beyond what is usually bestowed upon the individuals of his tribe; and being brought up amongst sailors, his manner acquired a peculiarity of cast which rendered them as different from those of other cats as the actions of a fearless seaman are from those of a lounging, shame-faced ploughboy. It was, however; from his gentleness and the innate goodness of his heart that I gave him the name of my uncle Toby's honest, kind-hearted, humble companion.

In playing with his little brothers and sisters upon deck by moonlight, when the ship was lying tranquilly in harbour, the energy and elasticity of his movements sometimes carried him so far beyond his mark that he fell overboard; but this was far from being a misfortune; he learned to swim and to have no dread of water; and when a rope was thrown over to him, he took hold of it like a man, and ran up it like a cat. In a short time he was able to mount up the gangway steps quicker than his master, or even than the first lieutenant.

Being a favourite with everybody on board, both officers and seamen, he was well fed, and grew fast both is in size and comeliness. A description of his person will not be misplaced here. From the care that was taken of him, and the force of his own constitution, Trim grew to be one of the finest animals I ever saw. His size emulated that of friends of Angora: his weight being from ten to twelve pounds, according as our fresh-meatometer stood high or low. His tail was long, large and bushy; and when he was animated by the presence of a stranger of the anti-catean race, it bristled out to a fearful size, whilst vivid flashes darted from his fiery eyes, thought at other times he was candour and good-nature itself. His head was small and round — his physiognomy bespoke intelligence and confidence — his whiskers were long and graceful, and his ears were cropped in a beautiful curve. Trim's robe was a clear jet black, the exception of his four feet, which seemed to have been dipped in snow, and his under-lip, which rivalled them in whiteness. He also a white star on his breast, and it seemed as if nature designed him for the prince and model of his race. I doubt whether Whittington's cat, of which so much has been said and written, was to be compared to him.

otwithstanding my great partiality to my friend Trim, strict justice obliges me to cite in this place a trait in his character which by many will be thought a blemish: he was, I am sorry to say it, excessively vain of his person, particularly of his snow-white feet. He would frequently place himself on the quarter deck before the officers, in the middle of their walk; and spreading out his two white hands in the posture of the lion couchant, oblige them to stop and admire him. They would indeed say low to each other, "See the vanity of that cat!" but they could not not help admiring his graceful form and beautiful white feet.

Indeed when it is known, that to the finest form ever beheld, he joined extraordinary personal and mental qualifications, the impossibility that the officers could be angry with him must be evident; and they were men of too much elevation of mind to be jealous of him. I would not be an advocate in the cause of vanity; but if it is ever excusable, it was so in this case. How many men are there, who have no claim either from birth, fortune, or acquirements, personal or mental, whose vanity is not to be confined within such harmless bounds, as was that of Trim! And I will say for him, that he never spoke ill of or objected to the pretensions of others, which is more than can be said for very many bipeds.

rim, though vain as we have seen, was not like those young men who, being assured of an independence, spend their youth in idle trifling, and consider all serious application as pedantic and derogatory, or at least to be useless; he was, on the contrary, animated with a noble zeal for the improvement of his faculties. His exercises commenced with acquiring the art of leaping over the hands; and as every man in the ship took pleasure in instructing him, he at length arrived to such a pitch of perfection, that I am persuaded, had nature placed him in the empire of Lilliput, his merit would have promoted him to the first offices in the state.

He was taught to lie flat upon the deck on his back, with his four feet stretched out like one dead; and in this posture he would remain until a signal was given him to rise, whilst his preceptor resumed his walk backwards and forwards; if, however, he was kept in this position, which it must be confessed was not very agreeable to a quadruped, a slight motion of the end of his tail denoted the commencement of impatience, and his friends never pushed their lesson further.

rim took a fancy to learning nautical astronomy. When an officer took lunar or other observations, he would place himself by the timekeeper, and consider the motion of the hands, and apparently the uses of the instrument, with much earnest attention. He would try to touch the second hand, listen to the ticking, and walk all round the piece to assure himself whether or no it might not be a living animal; and mewing to the young gentleman whose business it was to mark down the time, seemed to ask an explanation. When the officer had made his observation, the cry of Stop! roused Trim from his mediations; he cocked his tail, and running up the rigging near to the officer, mewed to know the meaning of all these proceedings.

Finding at length that nature had not designed him for an astronomer, Trim had too much good sense to continue a useless pursuit; but a musket ball slung with a piece of twine, and made to whirl round upon the deck by a slight motion of the finger, never failed to attract his notice, and to give him pleasure; perhaps from bearing a near resemblance to the movement of his favorite planet the moon, in her orbit round the primary which we inhabit. He was equally fond of making experiments upon projectile forces and the power of gravity: if a ball was thrown gently along the deck, he would pursue it; and when the gravitating principle combined with the friction overcame the impelling power, he would give the ball a fresh impetus, but generally to turn its direction into an elliptic curve (at other times form of the earth appeared to be the project of his experiments, and his ball was made to describe an oblate spheroid). The seamen took advantage of this propensity to making experiments with globular bodies; and two of them would often place themselves, one at each end of the forecastle, and trundling a ball backwards and forwards from one to the other, would keep Trim in constant action running after it; his admiration of the planetary system having induced an habitual passion for everything that was in motion. Could Trim have had the benefit of an Orrery, or even of being present at Mr Walker's experiments in natural philosophy, there can be no doubt as to the progress he would have maid in the sublimest of sciences.

His desire to gain a competent knowledge in practical seamanship, was not less than he showed for experimental philosophy. The replacing of a topmast carried away, or taking a reef in the sails, were what most attracted his attention at sea; and at all times, when there was more bustle upon deck than usual, he never failed to be present and in the midst of it; for as I have before hinted, he was endowed with an unusual degree of confidence and courage, and having never received anything but good from men, he believed all to be his friends, and he was the friend of all. When the nature of the bustle upon deck was not understood by him, he would mew and rub his back up against legs of one and the other, frequently at the risk of being trampled underfoot, until he obtained the attention of someone to satisfy him. He knew what good discipline required, and on taking in a reef, never presumed to go aloft until the order was issued; but so soon as the officer had given the words "Away up aloft!" up he jumped along with the seamen; and so active and zealous was he, that none could reach the top before, nor so soon as he did. His zeal, however, never carried him beyond a sense of dignity: he did not lay out on the yard like a common seaman, but always remained seated upon the cap, to inspect like an officer. This assumption of authority to which, it must be confessed, his rank, though great as a quadruped, did not entitle him amongst men, created no jealousy; for he always found some good friend ready to caress him after the business was done, and to take him down in his arms.

In harbour, the measuring of log and lead lines upon deck, and the stowage of the holds below, were the favourite subjects of his attention. No sooner was a cask moved, than he darted in under it upon the enemies of his king and country, at the imminent risk of having his head crushed to atoms, which he several times very narrowly escaped. In the breadroom he was still more indefatigable; he frequently solicited to be left there alone and in the dark, for two or three days together, that nothing might interrupt him in the discharge of his duty. This was one of the brightest traits in my friend Trim's character, and would indeed do honour to any character. In making the following deductions from it I shall not, I think, be accused of an unjust partiality: first, it must be evident that he had no fear of evil spirits, and consequently that he had a conscience above reproach; second, it is clear that he possessed a degree of patience and perseverance, of which few men can boast; and third, that like a faithful subject, he employed all these estimable qualities in the service of His Majesty's faithful servants, and indirectly of His Majesty himself. Alas! my poor friary, thy extraordinary merit required only to be known, in order to excite universal admiration.

rim was admitted upon the table of almost every officer and man in the ship: In the gunroom he was always the first ready for dinner, but though he was commonly seated a quarter of an hour before any other person, his modest reserve was such that his voice was not heard until everybody else was served. He then put in his request, not for a full allowance, he was too modest - nor did he desire there should be laid for him a plate, knife, fork or spoon, with all which he knew he could well dispense - but by a gentle caressing mew, he petitioned for a little, little bit, a kit of tythe from the plate of each; and it was to no purpose to refuse it, for Trim was enterprising in time of need, as he was gentle and well bred in ordinary times. Without the greatest attention to each morsel, in the person whom he had petitioned in vain; he would whip it off the fork with his paw,on its passage to the mouth, with such dexterity and an air so graceful, that it rather excited admiration than anger. He did not, however, leap off the table with his prize, as if he had done wrong; but putting the morsel into his mouth and eating it quietly, would go to the next person and repeat his little mew; if refused his wonted tythe, he stood ready to take all advantages. There are some men so inconsiderate as to be talking when they should be eating, who keep their meat suspended in mid-air till a semi-colon in the discourse gives an opportunity of taking their mouthful without interrupting their story. Guests of this description were a dead mark for Trim: when a short pause left them time to take the prepared mouthful, they were often surprised to find their meat gone, they could not tell how.

Trim had one day missed a fine morsel from the hungry activity of one of the young gentlemen who dined in the gunroom. Seeing him, however, talking and eating at the same time, my persevering gentle-man did not give it up, though the piece was half masticated and only waited for a period to disappear; but running up the waistcoat of our unsuspecting guest, for Trim was but then a kitten, and placing one paw at each corner of his mouth, he laid vigorous siege to his morsel; and whilst the astonished midshipman inarticulately exclaimed "G--d d--n the cat!" Trim fairly took the piece out of his mouth and carried it off, This was pushing his enterprises too far, and therefore received a reprimand which prevented them in future.

The gunroom steward was, however more particularly Trim's confident; and although he had dined with the masters, he was not too proud to sit down a second time with the servant. William had such an opinion of Trim's intelligence, that he talked to him as to his child whilst my four-footed master looking up in his face, seemed to understand him and to give rational answers. They had the following conversation over dinner on the day of Trim's audacious enterprise just related:

"Do you know, master Trim, that you have behaved very ill?" — Me-ew? "It is very well to play tricks with them that know you, but you should be more modest with strangers." — Mew! "How dare you say that I gave you no breakfast? Did I not give you all the milk that was left, and some bread soaked in it?" — Mou-wow! "No meat! What! you grow insolent? I'll chain you up; do you hear Sir?" — Me-ew. "Well, if you'll promise to behave better, you shall have a nice piece off the cold shank of mutton for your supper, — you shall." — Mew-wew! "Gently, master Trim. I'll give it you now, but first promise me upon your honour." — We-wee. "Come then, my good boy, come up and kiss me."

Trim leaped up on his shoulder, and rubbing his face against William's cheek, received the mutton, piece by piece out of his mouth.

n an expedition made to examine the northern parts of New South Wales, Trim presented a request to be of the party, promising to take upon himself the defence of our breadbags, and his services were accepted. Bongaree, an intelligent native of Port Jackson, was also on board our little sloop; and with him Trim formed an intimate acquaintance. If he had occasion to drink, he mewed to Bongaree and leaped up to the water cask; if to eat, he called him down below and went straight to his kit, where there was generally a remnant of black swan. In short, Bongaree was his great resource, and his kindness was repaid with caresses. In times of danger, Trim never showed any signs of fear; and it may truly be said, that he never distrusted or was afraid of any man.

In 1800, the Roundabout returned to England by the way of Cape Horn and St Helena; and thus Trim, besides his other voyages, completed the tour of the globe, Many and curios are the observations which he made in various branches of science, particularly natural history of small quadrupeds, birds, and flying fish, for which he mad much taste. These, with his remarks upon man and his manners, if future leisure should enable me to put into order, I may perhaps give to the world; and from the various seas and countries he has visited, joined to his superior powers for distinguishing obscure subjects, and talents for seizing them, these observations may be expected to be more interesting than the imaginary adventures of your guineas, shillings or halfpence, and to possess more originality than the Turkish spy.

rim was not only a stranger to England, but also to a house and to the manner of living in it: the king of Bantam's ambassador was not more inexperienced in these matters than he. I took a lodging for him at Deptford, placing him under the guardianship of the good woman of the house, who promised to instruct him in the usages of terra firma; but she knew not what she had undertaken. He would go out at the sash window to the top of the house, for the convenience of making his observations on the surrounding country more at ease. If it came on to rain, the sash was put down. This would have been an invincible obstacle to other cats, but not so to Trim. He bolted through the glass like a clap of thunder, to the great alarm of the good hostess below. "Good Gad, Trim." she exclaimed on entering the chamber, "Is it thee? They said thou wast a strange outlandish cat, and verily I think thou art the divil: I must shut thee up, for if thou go'st to treat neighbours thus, I shall have thee taken up for burglary; but come, I know thy master will pay the damage: has thou cut thyself?"

Woe to the good woman's china, if Trim got into her closet. Your delicate town-bred cats go mincing in amongst cups and saucers without touching them; but Trim! If he spied a mouse there he dashed at it like a man-of-war, through thick and thin: the splinters flew in all directions. The poor woman at first thought an evil spirit was playing pranks in her cupboard;-she opens the door with fear and trembling; when to her infinite dismay, out jumps my black gentleman upon her shoulder: she was well nigh dead with fear. Seeing how much mischief was done to her dear china, the pride of her heart, she seized Trim to beat him soundly; but instead of trying to escape, the droll animal rubs his whiskers up against her chin and to purring. She had no longer the heart to strike him; but after a moment's hesitation, she heaved a sigh and picked up the pieces.

I took him up to London in the stage coach, and as there were no fine ladies to be frightened at the presence of a strange cat, he was left at full liberty. He as not in the least disconcerted by the novelty of his situation; but placing himself upon the seat, and stretching out his white paws conducted himself reasonably like any other passenger; to the admiration of two gentlemen who did not cease to make inquiries concerning his education, manners, and adventures, during the hole way to town.

A worthy acquaintance in London took Trim into his family; but he soon requested me to take him back, for "such a strange animal", said he, "I never saw. I am afraid of losing him: He goes out into the streets in the middle of the day, and rubs himself against the legs of people passing by. Several have taken him up to caress him, but I fear someone will be carrying him off."

took him onboard the Spyall to make a second voyage to the South Seas. Trim now found himself at home; and his gentleness and extraordinary confidence, joined to the amusement his droll antics furnished them soon made him a great favourite with his new shipmates as he had been onboard the Roundabout.

We had several dogs on board the Spyall, but Trim was undisputed master of them all. When they were at play upon the deck, he would go in amongst them with his stately air; and giving a blow at the eyes of one, and a scratch on the nose to another, oblige them to stand out of his way. He was capable of being animated against a dog, as dogs usually may be against a cat; and i have more than once sent him from the quarterdeck to drive a dog off the forecastle. He would run half the way briskly, crouching like a lion which has prey in view; but then assuming a majestic deportment, and without being deterred by the menacing attitude of his opponent, he would march straight up to him, and give him a blow on the nose, accompanied with a threatening mew! If the dog did not immediately retreat, he flew at him with his war cry of Yow! If resistance was still made, he leaped up on the rail over his head and so bespattered him about the eyes that he was glad to run off howling. Trim pursued him till he took refuge below; and then returned smiling to his master to receive his caresses.

uring our circumnavigation of Australia in the years 1801, 1802, and 1803, Trim had frequent opportunities of repeating his observations and experiments in his favourite science, natural history, and of exerting his undiminished activity and zeal for the public good. In the Gulf of Carpentaria, from the unhealthiness of the climate, the want of his usual fresh food, and perhaps from too much application to study, this worthy creature became almost grey, lost much of weight, and seemed to be threatened with a premature old age, but to the great joy of his friends, he re-assumed his fine black robe and his accustomed portliness a short time after returning to harbour.

Only once was Trim known to be guilty of theft: he had a soul above it; but one unlucky afternoon a cold leg of mutton in the pantry tempted him. Being unable to carry it off himself, he got the assistance of Van, a Dutch cat on board; and they had so far succeeded as to get it down off the shelf, and were dragging it together into the hold; when lo! the steward came and surprised them in the act. Van made his escape, but Trim, ever confident, made no efforts, and was seized and beaten soundly. He took the blows with philosophical patience; but no sooner was he set at liberty, than he ran after his false Dutch friend, and repaid him with interest the beating he had received. The recital of this unfortunate anecdote of my friend Trim, will I hope be received as a proof of the impartiality of the history; and I advise the reader not to seek in it for any political allegory, but to be assured that the facts were really such as they are here related.

he Spyall being found to be rotten, Trim embarked on board His Majesty's ship the Janty to return to England, and was shipwrecked with us upon a coral bank in the Great Equinoxial Ocean on the night of August 17, 1803. The imagination can scarcely attain to what Trim had to suffer during this dreadful night, but his courage was not to be beaten down.

He got to Wreck Reef Bank with the crew, and passed there two long and dreary months; during which his zeal in the provision tent was not less than it had been in he breadroom, and his manners preserved all their amiability. When the vessels arrived to our assistance, Trim preferred following his master on board the Minikin schooner to going with the rest of the ship's company to China in a large vessel, giving thereby a memorable example of faithful attachment.

The Minikin being very leaky, was obliged to stop at the Isle of France; and there poor Trim, his master and few followers were all made prisoners; under the pretext that they had come to spy out the nakedness of the land; though it was as clear as day, that they knew nothing of the war that had taken place a few months before. Trim was confined in a room with his master and another officer; and as he possessed more philosophy than we did, he contributed by his gay humour to soften our straight captivity; but sometimes contrived to elude the vigilance of the sentinel at the door, and left is to make little temporary excursions in the neighbourhood. it is probable that he made some new secret acquaintances in these visits, for they became more frequent than was prudent; and for fear of accidents, we were obliged to shut him up after supper.

On being removed to the Maison Despeaux amongst the prisoners of war, a French lady offered to be Trim's security, in order to have him for a companion to her little daughter; and the fear of some clandestine proceedings on the part of the soldiers of the guard induced me to comply, on finding it would give no umbrage to His Excellency the French Governor. A fortnight had scarcely passed, when the public gazette of the island announced that he was nowhere to be found; and offered a reward of ten Spanish dollars to anyone who would conduct him to his afflicted little mistress. My sorrow may better be conceived than described; I would with pleasure have given fifty dollars to have had my friend and companion restored to me. All research and offers of recompense were in vain, poor Trim was effectively lost; and it but too probable that this excellent unsuspecting animal was stewed and eaten by some hungry black slave, in whose eyes all his merits could not balance against the avidity excited by his sleek body and fine furred skin.

Thus perished my faithful intelligent Trim! The sporting, affectionate and useful companion of my voyages during four years. Never, my Trim, "to take thee all in all, shall I see thy like again"; but never will thou cease to be regretted by all who had the pleasure of knowing thee, And for thy affectionate master and friend, he promises thee, if ever he shall have the happiness to enjoy repose in his native country, under a thatched cottage surrounded by half an acre of land, to erect in the most retired corner, a monument to perpetuate and record thy uncommon merits, and this shall be your epitaph.


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1536.] all parties, Catholic and Protestant alike, united in the sentence.

Looking at the case, then, as it now stands, we have the report for some time current, that the Queen was out of favour, and that the Ring's affection was turned in another direction, a report, be it observed, which had arisen before the catastrophe, and was not, therefore, an afterthought, or legend; we have also the antecedent improbability, which is very great, that a lady in the Queen's position could have been guilty of the offences with which the indictment charges her. We have also the improbability, which is great, that the King, now forty-four years old, who in his earlier years had been distinguished for the absence of those vices in which contemporary princes indulged themselves, in wanton weariness of a woman for whom he had revolutionized the kingdom, and quarrelled with half Christendom, suddenly resolved to murder her; that, instead of resorting to poison, or to the less obtrusive methods of criminality, he invented, and persuaded his council to assist him in inventing, a series of accusations which reflected dishonour on himself, and which involved the gratuitous death of five persons, with whom he had no quarrel, who were attached to his Court and person. To maintain these accusations, he would have to overawe into an active participation in his crime, judges, juries, peers, the dearest relations of those whom he was destroying, and this with no standing army, no prætorians or janissaries at his back, with no force but the yeomen of the guard, who could be scattered by a rising


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392 of the apprentices. He had gone out of his way, moreover, to call a Parliament; and the summons had been so hasty that no time was left to control the elections; while again to fail was ruin; and the generation of Englishmen to whom we owe the Reformation were not so wholly lost to all principles of honour, that Henry could have counted beforehand upon success in so desperate a scheme with that absolute certainty without which he would scarcely have risked the experiment. Certainly there is some improbability here. Unlikely as it is that queens should disgrace themselves, history contains unfortunately more than one instance that it is not impossible. That queens in that very age vere capable of profligacy was proved, but a few years later, by the confessions of Catherine Howard. I believe history will be ransacked vainly to find a parallel for conduct at once so dastardly, so audacious, and so foolishly wicked as that which the popular hypothesis attributes to Henry VIII.

This is a fair statement of the probabilities; not, I believe, exaggerated on either side. Turning to the positive facts which are known to us, we have amongst those which make for the Queen her own denial of her guilt; her supposed letter to the King, which wears the complexion of innocence; the assertions of three out of the five other persons who were accused, up to the moment of their execution; and the sympathizing story of a Flemish gentleman who believed her innocent, and who says that many other people in England believed the same. On the other side, we have the judicial


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 long and loud and often in the old days; and it sometimes happens that Bill comes across an article or a paragraph which agrees with and, so to speak, barracks for a pet theory of his as against one held by Jim; and Bill marks it with a chuckle and four crosses at the corners―and an extra one at each side perhaps―and sends it on to Jim; he reckons it'll rather corner old Jim. The crosses are not over ornamental nor artistic, but very distinct; Jim sees them from the reverse side of the sheet first, maybe, and turns it over with interest to see what it is. He grins a good-humoured grin as he reads―poor old Bill is just as thick-headed and obstinate as ever―just as far gone on his old fad. It's rather rough on Jim, because he's too far off to argue; but, if he's very earnest on the subject, he'll sit down and write, using all his old arguments to prove that the man who wrote that rot was a fool. This is one of the few things which will make them write to each other. Or else Jim will wait till he comes across a paragraph in another paper which barracks for his side of the argument, and, in his opinion, rather knocks the stuffing out of Bill's man; then he marks it with more and bigger crosses and a grin, and sends it along to Bill. They are both democrats―these old mates generally are―and at times one comes across a stirring article or poem, and marks it with approval and sends it along. Or it may be a good joke, or the notice of the death of an old mate. What a wave of feeling and memories a little par can take through the land!

Jim is a sinner and a scoffer, and Bill is an earnest,


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1536.] of more than seventy noblemen and gentlemen, no one of whom had any interest in the deaths of the accused, and some of whom had interests the most tender in their acquittal; we have the assent of the judges who sat on the commission, and who passed sentence, after full opportunities of examination, with all the evidence before their eyes; the partial confession of one of the prisoners, though afterwards withdrawn; and the complete confession of another, maintained till the end, and not withdrawn upon the scaffold. Mr Hallam must pardon me for saying that this is not a matter in which doubt is unpermitted.

A brief interval only was allowed between the judgment and the final close. On Wednesday, the 17th, the five gentlemen were taken to execution. Smeton was hanged; the others were beheaded. Smeton and Brereton acknowledged the justice of their sentence. Brereton said that if he had to die a thousand deaths, he deserved them all; and Brereton was the only one of the five whose guilt at the time was doubted. Morris died silent; Weston, with a few general lamentations on the wickedness of his past life. None denied the


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394 crime for which they suffered; all but one were considered by the spectators to have confessed. Rochford had shown some feeling while in the Tower. Kingston on one occasion found him weeping bitterly. The day of the trial he sent a petition to the King, to what effect I do not learn; and on the Tuesday he begged to see Cromwell, having something on his conscience, as he said, which he wished to tell him. His desire, however, does not seem to have been complied with; he spoke sorrowfully on the scaffold of the shame which he had brought upon the gospel, and died with words which, appeared to the spectators, if not a confession, yet something very nearly resembling it. 'This said lord,' wrote a spectator to the Court at Brussels, 'made a good Catholic address to the people. He said that he had not come there to preach to them, but rather to serve as a mirror and an example. He acknowledged the crimes which he had committed against God, and against the King his sovereign; there was no occasion for him, he said, to repeat the cause for which he was condemned; they would have little pleasure in hearing him tell it. He prayed God, and he prayed the King, to pardon his offences; and all others whom he might have injured he also prayed to forgive him as heartily as he forgave every one. He bade his hearers avoid the vanities of the world, and the flatteries of the Court, which had brought him to the shameful end which had overtaken him. Had he obeyed the lessons of that gospel which


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1536.] he had so often read, he said he should not have fallen so far; it was worth more to be a good doer than a good reader. Finally, he forgave those who had adjudged him to die, and he desired them to pray God for his soul.'

The Queen was left till a further mystery had perplexed yet deeper the disgraceful exposure. Henry had desired Cranmer to be her confessor. The Archbishop was with her on the day after her trial, and she then made an extraordinary avowal, either that she had been married or contracted in early life, or had been entangled in some connection which invalidated her marriage with the King. The letter to the Emperor which I have already quoted, furnishes the solitary explanation of the mystery which remains. Some one, apparently the Imperial ambassador, informed Charles that she was discovered to have been nine years before married to Lord Percy, not formally only, but really and completely. If this be true, her fate need scarcely excite further sympathy. On Wednesday she made a confession to Cranmer, and the Archbishop, sitting judicially in court at Lambeth


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' ever I do get a job again,' said Mitchell, 'I'll stick to it while there's a hand's turn of work to do, and put a few pounds together. I won't be the fool I always was. If I'd had sense a couple of years ago, I wouldn't be tramping through this damned sand and mulga now. I'll get a job on a station, or at some toff's house, knocking about the stables and garden, and I'll make up my mind to settle down to graft for four or five years.

"But supposing you git the sack?" said his mate.

'I won't take it. Only for taking the sack I wouldn't be hard-up to-day. The boss might come round and say:―

"I won't want you after this week, Mitchell. I haven't got any more work for you to do. Come up and see me at the office presently."

'So I'll go up and get my money; but I'll be pottering round as usual on Monday, and come up to the kitchen for my breakfast. Some time in the day the boss'll be knocking round and see me.'

"Why, Mitchell," he'll say, "I thought you was gone."

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 'So he'll find me something regular to do a bit of fencing, or carpentering, or painting, or something, and then I'll begin to call up for my stuff again, as usual.'


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 'I didn't say I was going,' I'll say. 'Who told you that―or what made you think so?'

"I thought I told you on Saturday that I wouldn't want you any more," he'll say, a bit short. "I haven't got enough work to keep a man going; I told you that; I thought you understood. Didn't I give you the sack on Saturday?"

'It's no use; 'I'll say, 'that sort of thing's played out. I've been had too often that way; I've been sacked once too often. Taking the sack's been the cause of all my trouble; I don't believe in it; if I'd never taken the sack I'd have been a rich man to-day; it might be all very well for horses, but it doesn't suit me; it doesn't hurt you, but it hurts me. I made up my mind that when I got a place to suit me, I'd stick in it. I'm comfortable here and satisfied, and you've had no cause to find fault with me. It's no use you trying to sack me, because I won't take it. I've been there before, and you might as well try to catch an old bird with chaff.'

"Well, I won't pay you, and you'd better be off," he'll say, trying not to grin.

'Never mind the money,' I'll say, 'the bit of tucker won't cost you anything, and I'll find something to do round the house till you have some more work. I won't ask you for anything, and, surely to God! I'll find enough to do to pay for my grub!'

'So I'll potter round and take things easy and call up at the kitchen as usual at meal times, and by-and-bye the boss'll think to himself: "Well, if I've got to feed this chap I might as well get some work out of him."


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396 to consider the effect of it, pronounced her marriage with the King to have been null and void. The supposition, that this business was a freak of caprice or passion, is too puerile to be considered. It is certain that she acknowledged something; and it is certain also that Lord Northumberland was examined upon the subject before the Archbishop. In person upon oath indeed, and also in a letter to Cromwell, Northumberland denied that he had ever been legally connected with her; but perhaps Northumberland was afraid to make an admission so dangerous to himself, or perhaps the confession itself was a vague effort which she made to save her life. But whatever she said, and whether she spoke truth or falsehood, she was pronounced divorced, and the divorce did not save her. Friday, the 19th, was fixed for her death; and when she found that there was no hope she recovered her spirits. The last scene was to be on the green inside the Tower. The public were to be admitted; but Kingston suggested that to avoid a crowd it was desirable not to fix the hour, since it was supposed that she would make no further confession.

'This morning she sent for me,' he added, 'that I might be with her at such time as she


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1536.] received the good Lord, to the intent that I should hear her speak as touching her innocency always to be clear. 'Mr Kingston,' she said, 'I hear say I shall not die before noon, and I am very sorry therefore, for I thought to be dead by this time, and past my pain.' I told her it should be no pain, it was so subtle; and then she said, 'I heard say the executioner was very good, and I have a little neck,' and put her hands about it, laughing heartily. I have seen many men, and also women, executed, and they have been in great sorrow; and to my knowledge, this lady hath much joy and pleasure in death.'

We are very near the termination of the tragedy. On the 19th of May, at nine in the morning, Anne Boleyn, Queen of England, was led down to the green. Foreigners were not admitted, but the scene was public to all native-born Englishmen. The yeomen of the guard were there, and a crowd of citizens; the lord mayor in his robes, the deputies of the guilds, the sheriffs, and the aldermen; they were come to see a spectacle which England had never seen before a head which had worn the crown falling under the sword of an executioner.

On the scaffold, by the King's desire, there were present Cromwell, the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, and lastly, the Duke of Richmond, who might now, when both his sisters were illegitimized, be considered


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398 heir presumptive to the throne. As in the choice of the commission, as in the conduct of the trial, as in the summons of Parliament, as in every detail through which the cause was passed, Henry had shown outwardly but one desire to do all which the most strict equity prescribed; so around this last scene he had placed those who were nearest in blood to himself, and nearest in rank to the Crown. If she who was to suffer was falling under a forged charge, he acted his part with horrible completeness.

The Queen appeared walking feebly, supported by the Lieutenant of the Tower. She seemed half stupified, and looked back from time to time at the ladies by whom she was followed. On reaching the platform, she risked if she might say a few words, and permission being granted she turned to the spectators and said: 'Christian people, I am come to die. And according to law, and by law, I am judged to death; and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the King, and send him long to reign over you; for a gentler and more merciful prince was there never; and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. If any person will meddle of my cause, I require him to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you; and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. Oh, Lord, have mercy on me. To God I


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1536.] my soul.' 'These words,' says Stow, 'she spoke with a smiling countenance.' She wore an ermine cloak which was then taken off. She herself removed her headdress, and one of her attendants gave her a cap into which she gathered her hair. She then knelt, and breathing faintly a commendation of her soul to Christ, the executioner with a single blow struck off her head. A white handkerchief was thrown over it as it fell, and one of the ladies took it up and carried it away. The other women lifted the body and bore it into the Chapel of the Tower, where it was buried in the choir.

Thus she too died without denying the crime for which she suffered. Smeton confessed from the first. Brereton, Weston, Rochford, virtually confessed on the scaffold. Norris said nothing. Of all the sufferers not one ventured to declare that he or she was innocent—and that six human beings should leave the world with the undeserved stain of so odious a charge on them, without attempting to clear themselves, is credible only to those who form opinions by their wills, and believe or disbelieve as they choose.

To this end the Queen had come at last, and silence is the best comment which charity has to offer upon it. Better far it would have been if the dust had been allowed to settle down over the grave of Anne Boleyn, and her remembrance buried in forgetfulness. Strange


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400 it is that a spot which ought to have been sacred to pity, should have been made the arena for the blind wrestling of controversial duellists. Blind, whatever was the truth; for there has been little clearness of judgment, little even of common prudence in the choice of sides. If the Catholics could have fastened the stain of murder on the King and the statesmen of England, they would have struck the faith of the establishment a harder blow, than by a poor tale of scandal against a weak, erring, suffering woman: and the Protestants, in mistaken generosity, have courted an infamy for the names of those to whom they owe their being, which, staining the fountain, must stain for ever the stream which flows from it. It has been no pleasure to me to rake among the evil memories of the past, to prove a human being sinful whom the world has ruled to have been innocent. Let the blame rest with those who have forced upon our history the alternative of a re-assertion of the truth, or the shame of noble names which have not deserved it at our hands.

No sooner had the result of the trial appeared to be certain, than the prospects of the succession to the throne were seen to be more perplexed than ever. The prince so earnestly longed for had not been born. The disgrace of Anne Boleyn, even before her last confession, strengthened the friends of the Princess Mary. Elizabeth, the child of a doubtful marriage which had terminated in adultery and incest, would have had slight chance of being maintained, even if her birth had suffered no further stain; and by the Lambeth sentence she was


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1536.] and legally illegitimate. The King of Scotland was now the nearest heir; and next to him stood Lady Margaret Douglas, his sister, who had been born in England, and was therefore looked upon with better favour by the people. As if to make confusion worse confounded, in the midst of the uncertainty Lord Thomas Howard, taking advantage of the moment, and, as the Act of his attainder says, 'being seduced by the devil, and not having the fear of God before his eyes,' persuaded this lady into a contract of marriage with him; 'The presumption being,' says the same Act, 'that he aspired to the crown by reason of so high a marriage; or, at least, to the making division for the same; having a firm hope and trust that the subjects of this realm would incline and bear affection to the said Lady Margaret, being born in this realm; and not to the King of Scots, her brother, to whom this realm hath not, nor ever had, any affection; but would resist his attempt to the crown of this realm to the uttermost of their powers.'

Before the discovery of this proceeding, but in anticipation of inevitable intrigues of the kind, the privy council and the peers, on the same grounds which had before led them to favour the divorce from Catherine, petitioned the King to save the country from the perils which menaced it, and to take a fresh wife without hour's delay. Henry's experience of matrimony had been so discouraging, that they feared he might be


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 CHAPTER X.

"lions" about Wellington are not numerous, but they are well worthy inspection.

McNab's Gardens, at the Hutt, are unique in their way, and in the season can boast of the very finest display of azaleas, camellias, and especially rhododendrons, probably to be seen south of the line. McNab himself is a fine specimen of the good, thrifty, gentle-mannered, practical old Scottish gardener. His buxom wife partakes of the practical also; but nothing delights the worthy couple more than to do the honours of their floral domain to any one who betrays a curiosity to look and learn.

What memories gardeners must have; real gardeners, I mean. Not the frauds and shams, who invent names on the spur of the moment to hide their real ignorance, and whose assumption of infallibility is at times so exasperating.

McNab showed us pines, palms, lilies, flowering shrubs, from Japan, Brazil, India, Africa, Europe,

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 all growing "cheek by jowl," yet in graceful groupings and telling contrast, and the name of every one came as pat as petitions to a mendicant, and was accompanied with quaint little bits of description and touches of humour, which made the old man's tale most enjoyable.

On St. George's Day we took advantage of an excursion train at a marvellously cheap tariff of 7s. fare, to go over the world-famed Rimutaka railway.

Englishmen make very little fuss over St. George. What a fuss and fuddle Scotchmen sometimes make over their dinner to St. Andrew; and, of course, we all know that St. Patrick's memory is embalmed in the heart of every Irishman, and annually honoured by an amount of green ribbon, whisky, and eloquence, which none but an Irishman could compass. But St. George! Well, really, there was very little bustle in Wellington on his account on the date I write about; and the banks were the only institutions that seemed to hold his memory in any special esteem.

The excursion train was but poorly patronized, and, punctually at 10 a.m., we started in most inauspicious weather. It rained heavily, and the clouds were low, and the air raw and chill. We steamed through the mists and driving rain, away round the harbour and up the valley of the Hutt, past rural farms and rich pastures in the valley, and the river at our feet rattling noisily over its shingly bars.

Past Silver Stream, a pretty station, we begin

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 to approach the bushy defiles and half-cleared flats, where settlement is more scanty and recent than in the lower valley. "The forest primeval" still holds its own stubbornly here, and only a few unsightly patches of slovenly clearing on the hillsides show that the pioneer has begun to make his mark. These first rude beginnings of settlement are so like the schoolboy's first writing lessons—grim, unsightly blots and thick strokes! Never mind; the fine penmanship will come in time.

When we come to the Upper Hutt, the outlook under the depressing influence of the dull weather is not inspiring. There is a neat little church, but that about exhausts the neatness. Farming has retrograded here during the last five years. A big timber trade was formerly done; but the forests have been denuded, and a wilderness of black stumps are all that remain to tell of the former bravery of foliage. A wave of dullness has swept over the place, and it languishes for the want of energetic workers and possibly a good-natured banker or two.

From Kaitoke we have two engines, and make a steady ascent through some forest scenery of striking beauty. The look back, across the valleys and down the wooded glens, is most romantic and beautifully diversified.

At the top of the steep, the Fell engine is attached to the train, and takes us down the terrific decline to Cross Creek. There is here a raised centre rail, and the engine is provided with some intricate and ingenious mechanism which grips

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was Golden Gully still, but golden in name only, unless indeed the yellow mullock heaps or the bloom of the wattle trees on the hillside gave it a claim to the title. But the gold was gone from the gully, and the diggers were gone, too, after the manner of Timon's friends when his wealth deserted him. Golden Gully was a dreary place, dreary even for an abandoned goldfield. The poor, tortured earth, with its wounds all bare, seemed to make a mute appeal to the surrounding bush to come up and hide it, and, as if in answer to its appeal, the shrub and saplings were beginning to close in from the foot of the range. The wilderness was reclaiming its own again.

The two dark, sullen hills that stood on each side were clothed from tip to hollow with dark scrub and scraggy box-trees; but above the highest row of shafts on one side ran a line of wattle-trees in full bloom.

The top of the western hill was shaped somewhat like a saddle, and standing high above the eucalypti on the point corresponding with the pommel were three tall pines. These lonely trees, seen for many 134


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 this centre rail, and so minimizes the danger, and gives additional power. I was informed that only on the Vesuvius Railway and on one incline on the Alps is there such a steep gradient as here, and that it is only on these three lines that the Fell engine is in use. Not being an engineer I cannot vouch for this.

At all events the Rimutaka gorge is a sight which once seen can never be forgotten. Critics of the carping sort say that the line should never have been brought by this route at all. They tell you of two alternate routes of easier grades and much more suitable for traffic. All I can say is that for the tourist, the Rimutaka line offers attractions which are positively enthralling. The curves are very abrupt. The pace is rapid enough to make standing on the platform dangerous, as the oscillation is extreme; but the scenery is thrillingly grand.

The clear, brawling stream dashes along at the foot of the embankments, with here and there an abutment of logs and gabions stemming its impetuous rush, and diverting the insidious waters away from their work of undermining, and overthrowing the labours of the engineer. Some of the glens are stupendous in their depth. Two slender, spidery-looking chain-bridges span the stream at two different gorges. The bosky hills seem on fire, as the steam and mist curl and wreathe their ghost-like fantastic columns aloft through the dark canopy of matted creeper and dewy fern fronds.

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 Anon the sun bursts through the driving scud, and for an instant the gleam and glitter, the sheen and radiance, the play of glowing brightness and gloomy shadow, are positively bewildering, and superlatives are exhausted in the attempt to render any of the faintest conception of the absorbing witchery of the fairy display.

Through a long, dark, curved tunnel we dash. We spin across the narrow neck named Siberia, where at times the wind shrieks like as if all the squadrons of the "Prince of the Power of the Air" were hurling themselves upon the rugged rocks in the attempt to dash them into pieces. Great stones hurtle through the air at times. It was here that terrible accident took place, when the train was lifted bodily from the track by the hurricane, and many lives were lost. Since then the naked spur has been protected by high, strong barricade fences.

But what a work has this been! How could the surveyors have possibly come down these beetling cliffs? What a wild chaos is here! Crags, cascades, towering heights, and dizzy steeps. It beats the western ghats of Bombay for wild majesty.

And the mists! Those columns of vapour on the steep mountain sides. "He but toucheth the hills and they do smoke." Look up or down the gorge as you will, we seem shut in from the outer world as by the fiat of some fell magician, with impassable barriers of the wildest rock and forest.

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 miles around, had caught the yellow rays of many a setting sun long before the white man wandered over the ranges.

The predominant note of the scene was a painful sense of listening, that never seemed to lose its tension―a listening as though for the sounds of digger life, sounds that had gone and left a void that was accentuated by the signs of a former presence. The main army of diggers had long ago vanished to new rushes, leaving only its stragglers and deserters behind. These were men who were too poor to drag families about, men who were old and feeble, and men who had lost their faith in fortune. They had dropped unnoticed out of the ranks, and remained to scratch out a living among the abandoned claims.

Golden Gully had its little community of fossickers who lived at the foot of the gully in a clearing, called Spencer's Flat on one side and Pounding Flat on the other, but they lent no life to the scene; they only haunted it. A stranger might have thought the field entirely deserted until he came on a coat and a billy at the foot of saplings amongst the holes, and heard, in the shallow ground underneath, the thud of a pick, which told of some fossicker below rooting out what little wash remained.

One afternoon towards Christmas, a windlass was erected over an old shaft of considerable depth at the foot of the gully. A greenhide bucket attached to a rope on the windlass was lying next morning near the mouth of the shaft, and beside it, on a clear-swept patch, was a little mound of cool, wet washdirt.

A clump of saplings near at hand threw a shade


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 over part of the mullock heap, and in this shade, seated on an old coat, was a small boy of eleven or twelve years, writing on a slate.

He had fair hair, blue eyes, and a thin, old-fashioned face―a face that would scarcely alter much as he grew to manhood. His costume consisted of a pair of moleskin trousers, a cotton shirt, and one suspender. He held the slate rigidly with a corner of its frame pressed close against his ribs, whilst his head hung to one side, so close to the slate, that his strangling hair almost touched it. He was regarding his work fixedly out of the corners of his eyes, whilst he painfully copied down the head line, spelling it in a different way each time. In this laborious task he appeared to be greatly assisted by a tongue that lolled out of the corner of his mouth and made an occasional revolution round it, leaving a circle of temporarily clean face. His small clay-covered toes also entered into the spirit of the thing, and helped him not a little by their energetic wriggling. He paused occasionally to draw the back of his small brown arm across his mouth.

Little Isley Mason, or, as he was called, 'His Father's Mate,' had always been a general favourite with the diggers and fossickers, from the days when he used to slip out first thing in the morning and take a run across the frosty flat in his shirt. Long Tom Hopkins would often tell how Isley came home one morning from his run in the long, wet grass as naked as he was born, with the information that he had lost his shirt.

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 Ho! ho! a beneficent wizard to the rescue. See through yonder rift in the hoary glen the distant plains of Beulah. The sun blazing on the Delectable Mountains beyond, and nearer, the gleam and sparkle of a great lake. What a contrast! Down there a picture such as one dreams of when fancy conjures up pictures of the plains of Heaven. Behind, looking away up to the mountain tops, they are literally hidden in "clouds of thick darkness," and so majestic is the whole that the mind is overwhelmed with its grandeur and sublimity, and quite unfit to analyze it into its component parts.

We descend swiftly now into the famous Wairarapa Valley. The great lake now takes on a muddy hue. It is like an inland sea of dull olive green. The dun manuka hills around, and swampy flats bordering the lake, seem very tame after the majesty of the mountains and solemn grandeur of the gorges.

The Wairarapa Valley is famous for its pastures. The centre of the valley is poor land, mostly shingle and sand. The lower valley, however, and the hollows alongside the hills are very rich. It is well populated and dairy farms and factories are numerous. The land about the lake wants draining. The lake itself is the property of the Maoris, and they are agitating now for permission to prevent all European interference with their riparian rights.

The towns in the valley are Featherstone, Greytown, Carterton, and Masterton. At Carterton is

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 place with bare, sunbrowned arms and legs, a pick and shovel, and a gold dish, about two-thirds of his height in diameter, with which he used to go 'a-speckin and 'fossickin amongst the old mullock heaps. Long Tom was Isley's special crony, and he would often go out of his way to 'lay the boy onter bits o' wash and likely spots,' lamely excusing his long yarns with the child by the explanation that it was 'amusin' to draw Isley out.'

Isley had been sitting writing for some time when a deep voice called out from below:―

'Isley!'

'Yes, father.'

'Send down the bucket.'

'Right.'

Isley put down his slate, and going to the shaft dropped the bucket down as far as the slack rope reached; then, placing one hand on the bole of the windlass and holding the other against it underneath, he let it slip round between his palms until the bucket reached bottom. A sound of shovelling was heard for a few moments and presently the voice cried, 'Wind away, sonny.'

'Thet ain't half enough.' said the boy, peering down. 'Don't be frightened to put it in, father. I kin wind up a lot mor'n thet.'

A little more scraping, and the boy braced his feet well upon the little mound of clay which he had raised under the handle of the windlass to make up for his deficiency in stature.

'Now then, Isley!'

Isley wound slowly but sturdily, and soon the bucket


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 of 'wash' appeared above the surface; then he took it in short lifts and deposited it with the rest of the wash-dirt.

'Isley!' called his father again.

'Yes, father.'

'Have you done that writing lesson yet?'

'Very near.'

"Then send down the slate next time for some sums.'

'All right.'

The boy resumed his seat, fixed the corner of the slate well into his ribs, humped his back, and commenced another wavering line.

Tom Mason was known on the place as a silent, hard worker. He was a man of about sixty, tall, and dark bearded. There was nothing uncommon about his face, except, perhaps, that it had hardened, as the face of a man might harden who had suffered a long succession of griefs and disappointments. He lived in a little hut under a peppermint tree at the far edge of Pounding Flat. His wife had died there about six years before, and though new rushes broke out and he was well able to go, yet he never left Golden Gully.

Mason was kneeling in front of the 'face' digging away by the light of a tallow candle stuck in the side. The floor of the drive was very wet, and his trousers were heavy and cold with clay and water; but the old digger was used to this sort of thing. His pick was not bringing out much to-day, however, for he seemed abstracted and would occasionally pause in his work, while his thoughts wandered far away from the narrow streak of wash on the 'face.'


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 an extensive saw-mill employing over two hundred hands.

At Masterton are three flour-mills, and the town is bustling and seems thriving. The school was undergoing enlargement. There was not a house to let in the place, and we noticed several new buildings in process of erection. There are numerous streams here in which trout-hatching has been successful. There is a capital institute and reading-room, and an efficient fire-service. Ladders are slung in prominent places along the main streets, for use in case of fires. They are supplied by the different insurance companies. This is a good idea surely.

We had a good lunch at Elkins's Club Hotel, and got back in the dark to Wellington about seven o'clock, and had our usual comfortable and hospitable reception at the Occidental.

Another celebrity that must be seen in Wellington is the far-famed Island Bay Hermit. Some mystery attaches to this ascetic individual. He lives in a miserable, cold, bare cave, lies on the bare stones, and, while accepting food or clothes from his visitors, rejects all money offerings. Herein he differs from his Oriental prototype, the Fakeer or Yogi. Possibly the dreary past holds its horrid secrets for him. He converses intelligently enough on current topics. At night occasionally he comes into one of the newspaper offices in town, where he is supplied with mental pabulum in the shape of a great bundle of mutilated exchanges. Over these he pores, and possibly he

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 may one day astonish the world in the rôle of a new Mahdi, or Peter the Hermit. At present he is an object of curiosity with the many, and certainly, with some, an object of pity and kindly interest.

If the visitor wishes to feast his eyes on an exhibition of perfect good taste and exquisite skill in arrangement, let him visit the atelier of that artist in arrangement of curios—Mr. Kohn, the jeweller, on Lambton Quay. Mr. Kohn has a wonderful and most complete collection of Maori and Island weapons, cloths, and other curios. They are arranged round the walls of an upper room, where the light streams softly in through stained windows, and the courtesy of Mr. Kohn is on a par with his good taste. The room is a wonder. It is something unique. Dr. Buller has another splendid collection of Maori curios which I much regretted I was unable to see, although Captain Mair had most kindly provided me with a letter of introduction to the worthy doctor.

The museum and botanical gardens, too, are worthy a visit.

Another object of interest, too, I had the good fortune to behold, under the guidance of its constructor. This was the Belmont Viaduct, erected on the Wellington and Manawatu Railway about a mile from Johnstonville, by Mr. Morton Danaher, the contractor, from the design of Mr. H. P. Higginson, the engineer to the company.

The bridge is said to be the highest viaduct, built exclusively of timber, in the world. So that

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 He was digging out pictures from a past life. They were not pleasant ones, for his face was stony and white in the dim glow of the candle.

Thud, thud, thud,―the blows became slower and more irregular as the fossicker's mind wandered off into the past. The sides of the drive seemed to vanish slowly away, and the 'face' retreated far out beyond a horizon that was hazy in the glow of the Southern Ocean. He was standing on the deck of a ship and by his side stood a brother. They were sailing southward to the Land of Promise that was shining there in all its golden glory! The sails pressed forward in the bracing wind, and the clipper ship raced along with its burden of the wildest dreamers ever borne in a vessel's hull! Up over long blue ocean ridges, down into long blue ocean gullies. On to lands so new, and yet so old, where above the sunny glow of the southern skies blazed the shining names of Ballarat! and Bendigo! The deck seemed to lurch, and the fossicker fell forward against the face of the drive. The shock recalled him and he lifted his pick once more.

But the blows slacken again as another vision rises before him. It is Ballarat now. He is working in a shallow claim at Eureka, his brother by his side. The brother looks pale and ill, for he has been up all night dancing and drinking. Out behind them is the line of blue hills; in front is the famous Bakery Hill, and down to the left Golden Point. Two mounted troopers are riding up over Specimen Hill. What do they want?

They take the brother away, handcuffed. Manslaughter last night. Cause―drink and jealousy.


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 boasts the possession of the largest wooden building and the highest wooden viaduct, as is alleged, which the world contains.

The viaduct is raised on sixteen concrete basements. It contains 212,000 superficial feet of kauri timber, and there are thirty-five tons of wrought iron used up in bolts, nuts, washers, and straps alone. At a distance it looks like a gigantic web, or the puzzle of a dreaming geometrician. It is 170 feet in height, above the stream, and the span over the valley is 185 feet. The erection of such enormous lengths gave occasion for a display of fertility of resource on Mr. Danaher's part which is, I think, well worthy of record. It is a sample of what is being done, in hundreds of cases, by our cousins at the Antipodes to conquer nature, and a good illustration of the dogged fight which has to be waged before modern civilization can subdue the wild forces and primæval difficulties which confront the hardy pioneers of progress in these new lands.

All his sections were built on the ground on the side of the hill. The problem was to place them in situ without the aid of ruinously expensive scaffolding, and, at the same time, without undue risk to his workmen. Every log had to be laboriously dragged up steep hill-sides, along the bed of a mountain stream, and over ground which would have daunted the resolution of most men.

How, then, did he manage?

Thus. Having built his section on the ground

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 he raised it bodily into its place by a vertical lift.

But how did he get his vertical lift? Well, that was the clever idea! He sank a tunnel into the rock on each side of the valley, and made a T shaft in each tunnel, and in this shaft set a huge beam. Through the beam he rove a strong wire cable, and then hauled it taut across the valley, and on it put his blocks and tackle, and thus without scaffolding raised his structure, section by section, and so the wonderful erection rose without accident or mischance into being, and now stands a marvel of skilful contrivance, and a lasting tribute to the resourcefulness and energy of the genial and gifted contractor.

My visit was not wholly engrossed with beholding the wonders in natural scenery. My tastes lie also in viewing the practical, and inspecting the industrial. So it was that we were glad to avail ourselves of an opportunity afforded us of being shown over the Gear Meat Preserving and Freezing Company's works by the courteous and intelligent superintendent, Mr. Oldham.

The Gear Company employs altogether about 250 hands. They have made arrangements for turning out 4,000,000 lbs. of tinned and preserved meats during the coming year. They are turning out at present over ten tons daily, and they are the only firm, I believe, in Australasia who have successfully laid down corned beef in London to pass the Admiralty standards at Deptford.

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 The vision is gone again. Thud, thud, goes the pick; it counts the years that follow―one, two, three, four, up to twenty, and then it stops for the next scene―a selection on the banks of a bright river in New South Wales. The little homestead is surrounded by vines and fruit trees. Many swarms of bees work under the shade of the trees, and a crop of wheat is nearly ripe on the hillside.

A man and a boy are engaged in clearing a paddock just below the homestead. They are father and son; the son, a boy of about seventeen, is the image of his father.

Horses' feet again! Here comes Nemesis in mounted troopers' uniform.

The mail was stuck up last night about five miles away, and a refractory passenger shot. The son had been out ''possum shooting' all night with some friends.

The troopers take the son away handcuffed: 'Robbery under arms.'

The father was taking out a stump when the troopers came. His foot is still resting on the spade, which is half driven home. He watches the troopers take the boy up to the house, and then, driving the spade to its full depth, he turns up another sod. The troopers reach the door of the homestead; but still he digs steadily, and does not seem to hear his wife's cry of despair. The troopers search the boy's room and bring out some clothing in two bundles; but still the father digs. They have saddled up one of the farm horses and made the boy mount. The father digs. They ride off along the ridge with the boy between


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 The men were engaged putting up Government supplies for her Majesty's navy at the time of our visit. Considering the nature of the material being operated on, the cleanliness of the works was wonderful.

We were first shown into the boning-room, where mighty carcases were being stripped with a deftness and celerity only begotten of long practice. The bones were bundled off to boiling-down and glue works outside the town. Some of them are used to make rich stock for the soups.

The second stage is that wherein the flesh is put in pickle tanks to extract the superfluous blood.

Thirdly, it is next blanched by being loaded in an iron cage, which is worked up and down by machinery, and dipped into boiling water. The attendants forking in the huge masses of flesh with great steel forks was a new sensation, and the forks would have suited "Blunderbore" of Jack the Giant-Killer renown to a nicety.

Fourthly, it was then, after being cut to requisite sizes, filled in hot into the cans, which have previously all been made on the premises by a staff of experts, and have been scalded in hot water, and thoroughly cleansed.

Fifthly, the cans are next subjected to enormous pressure, ingeniously applied by a patent arrangement of turn-screws at a long table, capable of pressing many tins simultaneously. Each can has to undergo a pressure of three tons to the inch, and the process is a patent of the company.

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 The tinsmith now (sixthly) fixes the heads of the cans in, and solders them down. A small orifice is left purposely in the top of each can.

The cans are now (seventhly) placed in the preserving vats in the cooking-room. Here the heat was rather tropical, though the smell was most appetizing. The lightly-clad workmen, with their clean white caps, hurry to and fro, bending over the seething, bubbling vats, like magicians busy over some magic cauldron. There is the purring, piffing, paffing, plop plop, of incessant ebullition, and the cans in their simmering bath, steam away each from its tiny aperture like so many independent miniature steam-engines. The medium in which they are immersed for half their bulk has to be a dense one to keep down ebullition and lessen evaporation, and so a mixture of muriate of lime and fat is used. When sufficiently cooked, the orifice in the lid is soldered up, and the cans are next subjected to a further treatment in a bath of a higher temperature. Here one or two will occasionally burst with a terrific report and to the grievous hurt of the attendants. Happily such accidents are rare.

They are then plunged through an orifice into a bath of cold water, cleaned, painted, labelled, and a neat finish given to the exterior, which at last assumes a most attractive guise.

The tin-room was perhaps the most interesting one of the whole factory. The whole work was so neatly, cleanly, and expeditiously done that it

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 was a treat to witness the regularity and method so apparent in every department.

But we have lingered too long over our descriptions and must leave Wellington. One painful thing obtruded itself on our observation. We saw more drunkenness in Wellington than in any city or town in New Zealand. Whether this be a permanent or but a passing and transitory phase of the social life of this fine town I cannot say, but it is the only reproach I feel called on to record.

We saw many deplorable cases of open, brazen-faced, flaunting drunkenness, and sad to say not a few of the lamentable instances were those of really well-dressed, respectable-looking women, evidently workmen's wives, probably mothers of families. Alas! alas! under such circumstances is larrikinism to be wondered at?

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 them. The father never lifts his eyes; the hole widens round the stump; he digs away till the brave little wife comes and takes him gently by the arm. He half rouses himself and follows her to the house like an obedient dog.

Trial and disgrace follow, and then other misfortunes, pleuro among the cattle, drought, and poverty.

Thud, thud, thud again! But it is not the sound of the fossicker's pick―it is the fall of sods on his wife's coffin.

It is a little bush cemetery, and he stands stonily watching them fill up her grave. She died of a broken heart and shame. 'I can't bear disgrace!' I can't bear disgacedisgrace [sic]!' she had moaned all these six weary years―for the poor are often proud.

But he lives on, for it takes a lot to break a man's heart. He holds up his head and toils on for the sake of a child that is left, and that child is―Isley.

And now the fossicker seems to see a vision of the future. He seems to be standing somewhere, an old, old man, with a younger one at his side; the younger one has Isley's face. Horses' feet again! Ah, God! Nemesis once more in troopers' uniform!

The fossicker falls on his knees in the mud and clay at the bottom of the drive, and prays Heaven to take his last child ere Nemesis comes for him.

Long Tom Hopkins had been known on the diggings as 'Tom the Devil.' His profile, at least from one side, certainly did recall that of the sarcastic Mephistopheles; but the other side, like his true character, was by no


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 means a devil's. His physiognomy had been much damaged, and one eye removed by the premature explosion of a blast in some old Ballarat mine. The blind eye was covered with a green patch, which gave a sardonic appearance to the remaining features.

He was a stupid, heavy, good-natured Englishman. He stuttered a little, and had a peculiar habit of wedging the monosyllable 'why' into his conversation at times when it served no other purpose than to fill up the pauses caused by his stuttering; but this by no means assisted him in his speech, for he often stuttered over the 'why' itself. This peculiarity gave a flavour of originality and humour to Tom's utterances.

The sun was getting low down, and its yellow rays reached far up among the saplings of Golden Gully when Tom appeared coming down by the path that ran under the western hill. He was dressed in the usual costume cotton shirt, moleskin trousers, faded hat and waistcoat, and blucher boots. He carried a pick over his shoulder, the handle of which was run through the heft of a short shovel that hung down behind, and he had a big dish under his arm. He paused opposite the shaft with the windlass, and hailed the boy in his usual form of salutation.

'Look, see here, Isley!'

'What is it, Tom?'

'I seed a young―why―magpie up in the scrub, and yer oughter be able to catch it.'

'Can't leave the shaft; father's b'low.'

'How did yer father know there was any―why―wash in the old shaft?'


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 'Seed old Corney in town Saturday, 'n he said thur was enough to make it worth while balin' out. Bin balin' all the mornin'.'

Tom came over, and letting his tools down with a clatter he hitched up the knees of his moleskins and sat down on one heel.

'What are yer―why―doin' on the slate, Isley!' said he taking out an old clay pipe and lighting it.

'Sums,' said Isley.

Tom puffed away at his pipe a moment.

"Taint no use!' he said sitting down on the clay and drawing his knees up. 'Edication's a failyer.'

'Listen at 'im!' exclaimed the boy. ' D'yer mean ter say it ain't no use learnin' readin' and writin' and sums?'

'Isley!'

'Right, father.'

The boy went to the windlass and let the bucket down. Tom offered to help him wind up, but Isley, proud of showing his strength to his friend, insisted on winding by himself.

'You'll be―why―a strong man some day, Isley,' said Tom, landing the bucket.

'Oh, I could wind up a lot mor'n father puts in. Look how I greased the handles! It works like butter now,' and the boy sent the handles spinning round with a jerk to illustrate his meaning.

'Why did they call yer Isley for?' queried Tom, as they resumed their seats. 'It ain't yer real name, is it?'

'No, my name's Harry. A digger useter say I was a isle in the ocean to father 'n mother, 'n then I was nicknamed Isle, 'n then Isley'


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 'You hed a―why―brother once, didn't yer?'

'Yes, but thet was afore I was borned. He died, at least mother used ter say she didn't know if he was dead; but father says he's dead as fur's he' concerned.'

'And your father hed a brother, too. Did yer ever―why―hear of him?'

'Yes, I heard father talkin' about it onst to mother. I think father's brother got into some trouble over a squabble in a bar where a man was killed.'

'And was yer―why―father―why―fond of him?'

'I heard father say that he was wonst, but thet was all past.'

Tom smoked in silence for a while, and seemed to look at some dark clouds that were drifting along like a funeral out in the west. Presently he said half aloud something that sounded like 'All, all―why―past.'

'Eh?' said Isley.

'Oh, it's―why, why―nothin',' answered Tom, rousing himself. 'Is that a paper in yer father's coat-pocket, Isley?'

'Yes,' said the boy, taking it out.

Tom took the paper and stared hard at it for a moment or so.

'There's something about the new gold-fields there,' said Tom, putting his finger on a tailor's advertisement. I wish you'd―why―read it to me, Isley; I can't see the small print they uses nowadays.'

'No, thet's not it,' said the boy taking the paper, 'it's something about.'

'Isley!'


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 ''Old on, Tom, father wants me.'

The boy ran to the shaft, rested his hands and forehead against the bole of the windlass, and leant over to hear what his father was saying.

Without a moment's warning the treacherous bole slipped round; a small body bounded a couple of times against the sides of the shaft and fell at Mason's feet, where it lay motionless!

'Mason!'

'Ay?'

'Put him in the bucket and lash him to the rope with your belt!'

A few moments, and―

'Now, Tom!'

Tom's trembling hands would scarcely grasp the handle, but he managed to wind somehow.

Presently the form of the child appeared, motionless and covered with clay and water. Mason was climbing up by the steps in the side of the shaft.

Tom tenderly unlashed the boy and laid him under the saplings on the grass; then he wiped some of the clay and blood away from the child's forehead, and dashed over him some muddy water.

Presently Isley gave a gasp and opened his eyes.

'Are yer―why―hurt much, Isley?' asked Tom.

'Ba―back's bruk, Tom!'

'Not so bad as that, old man.'

'Where's father?'

'Coming up.'

Silence awhile, and then―

'Father! father! be quick, father!'


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 Mason reached the surface and came and knelt by the other side of the boy.

'I'll, I'll―why―run fur some brandy,' said Tom.

'No use, Tom,' said Isley. 'I'm all bruk up.'

'Don't yer feel better, sonny?'

'No―I'm―goin' to―die, Tom.'

'Don't say it, Isley,' groaned Tom.

A short silence, and then the boy's body suddenly twisted with pain. But it was soon over. He lay still awhile, and then said quietly:

'Good-bye, Tom!'

Tom made a vain attempt to speak. 'Isley!' he said, ''

The child turned and stretched out his hands to the silent, stony-faced man on the other side.

'Father―father, I'm goin'!'

A shuddering groan broke from Mason's lips, and then all was quiet.

Tom had taken off his hat to wipe his forehead, and his face, in spite of its disfigurement, was strangely like the face of the stone-like man opposite.

For a moment they looked at one another across the body of the child, and then Tom said quietly:

'He never knowed.'

'What does it matter?' said Mason gruffly; and, taking up the dead child, he walked towards the hut.

It was a very sad little group that gathered outside Mason's hut next morning. Martin's wife had been there all the morning cleaning up and doing what she could. One of the women had torn up her husband's only white shirt for a shroud, and they had made the


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 little body look clean and even beautiful in the wretched little hut.

One after another the fossickers took off their hats and entered, stooping through the low door. Mason sat silently at the foot of the bunk with his head supported by his hand, and watched the men with a strange, abstracted air.

Tom had ransacked the camp in search of some boards for a coffin.

'It will be the last I'll be able to―why―do for him,' he said.

At last he came to Mrs. Martin in despair. That lady took him into the dining-room, and pointed to a large white table, of which she was very proud.

'Knock that table to pieces,' she said.

Taking off the few things that were lying on it, Tom turned it over and began to knock the top off.

When he had finished the coffin one of the fossicker's wives said it looked too bare, and she ripped up her black riding-skirt, and made Tom tack the cloth over the coffin.

There was only one vehicle available in the place, and that was Martin's old dray; so about two o'clock Pat Martin attached his old horse Dublin to the shafts with sundry bits of harness and plenty of old rope, and dragged Dublin, dray and all, across to Mason's hut.

The little coffin was carried out, and two gin-cases were placed by its side in the dray to serve as seats for Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Grimshaw, who mounted in tearful silence.

Pat Martin lit his pipe, and mounted on the shaft. Mason fastened up the door of the hut with a padlock.


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 A couple of blows on one of his sharp points roused Dublin from his reverie. With a lurch to the right and another to the left he started, and presently the little funeral disappeared down the road that led to the 'town' and its cemetery.

About six months afterwards Tom Hopkins went on a short journey, and returned with a tall, bearded young man. He and Tom arrived after dark, and went straight to Mason's hut. There was a light inside, but when Tom knocked there was no answer.

'Go in; don't be afraid,' he said to his companion.

The stranger pushed open the creaking door, and stood bareheaded just inside the doorway.

A billy was boiling unheeded on the fire. Mason sat at the table with his face buried in his arms.

'Father!'

There was no answer, but the flickering of the firelight made the stranger think he could detect am impatient shrug in Mason's shoulders.

For a moment the stranger paused irresolute, and then stepping up to the table he laid his hand on Mason's arm, and said gently:

'Father! Do you want another mate?'

But the sleeper did not at least, not in this world.


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 CHAPTER VII

WORK IN STONE AND METALS

is frequently said that the whole of the New World was at the time of discovery still in the stone age. This is an unjust estimate of the metallurgic development in Mexico and Peru, but is true in a certain sense, since some stone tools were still in use even at the most advanced metallic centers. Outside the region of high culture the characterization holds and, even at the present moment, stone-age culture survives among a few outlying remnants of the aboriginal population. The gradual displacement of stone tools by trade gave opportunities for the actual observation of their fabrication paralleled in no part of the continental Old World. For, although we have from western Europe a remarkable chronological series of stone implements in which it is believed the several steps in their development can be differentiated, it is practically impossible to tell exactly how the work was done. Since we find in America somewhat analogous forms made from similar materials, the tendency has been to interpret European specimens by American data.

In Europe we find one distinction not at all applicable to our subject. Stone work there is clearly divided into two successive periods, that in which chipping alone occurs and that in which polishing predominates; while in practically all parts of the New World we find the two processes in simultaneous use. In the main, the stone industry of every social group comprises the following different methods: chipping, or flaking; abrading, or pecking; grinding and polishing; sawing and drilling.

The process used is dependent upon the materials. Thus any stone like flint, which has the property of conchoidal fracture, is flaked. While the precise manipulations seem to differ according to locality, the essential procedure is

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116 the same. A pebble is first brought to a generalized or blank form, by striking with a hammerstone. From this the desired implement is worked out, the fine chipping being by hand pressure with an antler or bone blunt-pointed tool. Holmes, our leading experimental archæologist, has worked out in his laboratory many of the necessary processes, which, in the main, agree with those observed among living peoples.

For pecking, our best data are from the Nootka of Vancouver Island, who occasionally resorted to it as late as twenty-five years ago. As shown in the figure, parallel grooves were battered in the pebble to be shaped, then the intervening ridges pecked away, and so on. The battering tool was a long, oval pebble of tough, hard stone. When the approximate shape of the desired implement had been attained, it was finished by grinding on suitable stones.

This seems to have been the method employed wherever polished tools of similar materials have been found. But nephrite, the fine, green, jade-like stone found on the North Pacific Coast and in Central America, cannot be worked in this way. It can only be cut and ground. Again, our best data are from Canada and Alaska. The Eskimo successfully sawed off pieces of the required shape by the use of thongs and sand and water; in short, the same principle as is employed

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Rh in modern stone cutting. From unfinished pieces in collections and the fine examples unearthed by Smith, it appears that the final separation of the block was by fracture produced by wedging.

As to drilling and perforating, our data are less complete. Soft stones, like slate, were drilled with stone points. By experimental

methods Rau has reconstructed the process of drilling with a hollow reed and sand, which accounts for the unfinished borings with attached cores we sometimes find in museums. Again, the Nootka made large perforations by pecking. First, a pit was formed in the stone to be perforated, into which a hard pebble was laid and pounded upon until the hole reached the middle; then the stone was inverted and the process repeated.

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118 The fine sculptures of the Maya were executed with stone tools. We can safely assume, therefore, that all the stone work of the New World belongs strictly to a stone age and was such as could, and in the main was, accomplished without the use of metal tools.

Our next task is to enumerate the most distinctive types of stone artifacts and their respective distributions. The most universal is the arrow-head, which, though of many varieties, tends to take the generalized triangular form. The notched head is found in both continents, but is strikingly absent from Eskimo collections. By paying minute regard to size, secondary form, and materials, it has been possible to draw some distinctions between the arrow-heads from different parts of the two continents, but such study has not advanced to a point where a summary can be made. The fact is that the difficulties of observing consistent distinctions are so great as to be discouraging. Nor do we find any great divergence from the arrow-heads of the Old World, for somewhat similar notched forms are common in Neolithic deposits. On the other hand, the fact that they do not occur in Paleolithic culture may have a significant bearing upon the history of our continent.

Lance heads and even knives are often indistinguishable from arrow-heads except as to size. Another closely related instrument is the drill. If we add to these, scrapers and a few gravers, we about exhaust the list of analogous tools.

Chipping, in particular, lends itself to fanciful productions and we often find in our collections from both continents many unusual objects. This work has been greatly stimulated by the modern tourist trade.

While the celt and the gouge from America cannot readily be distinguished from those of Neolithic Europe, or any other part of the world, the grooved ax (Fig. 77) is so far unique, though a single specimen has been found in China. Yet its distribution in the New World is rather restricted, even if we include all implements hafted by a groove. For we find this

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Rh grooved ax to be rare in South America, so far having been reported only for Ecuador. In North America the grooved ax is not found on the Pacific side, but is first met with among the Pueblos and bison-hunting tribes, though with the latter it is usually a hammer that is grooved. In the eastern maize area it is frequently met with. In Mexico and Central America it is relatively infrequent, and in the Greater Antilles is not found at all. On the other hand, neither the Eskimo nor the Siberians seem to make use of this principle of hafting.

The highly developed tribes of the North Pacific Coast use a grooved hammer, but in some cases a transverse hole is made, through which the binding is run. The important principle in hafting here is the holding of the flat face of the tool against a similar surface on the end of the handle, as in the adze. Curiously enough, this method has a distribution not quite the same as that of grooved tools. In Siberia, Alaska, and on the North Pacific Coast, where the adze is common, hammers are hafted in this same way, but in the Pueblo and Plains regions the tendency is to twine the handle around the entire tool. Then, in the eastern maize area the grooved ax again bears the hafting shoulder, as also seems to be the case in Ecuador. That east of the Mississippi, celts were hafted and used as axes is clear from a few specimens found in swamps. In these cases, the wedge-shaped top of the celt is put in a hole through the wooden handle.

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 {| style="margin: 1em auto 1em auto;"
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 * width=420px|Page 114a- Scrambles amongst the Alps - Whymper.jpg

THE MATTERHORN FROM THE NORTH-EAST.
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Rh the summit to the ridge called the Furgen Grat. The slope of the mountain that is between these two ridges will be referred to as the eastern face. A third, somewhat less continuous than the others, descends in a south-westerly direction, and the portion of the mountain that is seen from Breil is confined to that which is comprised between this and the second ridge. This section is not composed, like that between the first and second ridge, of one grand face; but it is broken up into a series of huge precipices, spotted with snow-slopes, and streaked with snow-gullies. The other half of the mountain, facing the Z'Mutt glacier, is not capable of equally simple definition. There are precipices, apparent, but not actual; there are precipices absolutely perpendicular; there are precipices overhanging: there are glaciers, and there are hanging glaciers; there are glaciers which tumble great séracs over greater cliffs, whose débris, subsequently consolidated, becomes glacier again: there are ridges split by the frost, and washed by the rain and melted snow into towers and spires: while, everywhere, there are ceaseless sounds of action, telling that the causes are still in operation which have been at work since the world began; reducing the mighty mass to atoms, and effecting its degradation.

Most tourists obtain their first view of the mountain either from the valley of Zermatt, or from that of Tournanche. From the former direction the base of the mountain is seen at its narrowest, and its ridges and faces seem to be of prodigious steepness. The tourist toils up the valley, looking frequently for the great sight which is to reward his pains, without seeing it (for the mountain is first perceived in that direction about a mile to the north of Zermatt), when, all at once, as he turns a rocky corner of the path; it comes into view; not, however, where it is expected; the face has to be raised up to look at it; it seems overhead. Although this is the impression, the fact is that the summit of the Matterhorn from this point makes an angle with the eye of less than 16°, while the Dom, from the same place, makes a larger angle, but is passed by unobserved. So little can dependence be placed on unaided vision.


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Rh outlying islands engage in sea fishing all the year and are almost entirely dependent upon the marine fauna, but those of the interior hunt deer and other game to complete their diet.

Of vegetable foods there are several varieties. Inland, several species of roots are gathered, dried and pounded fine in the same manner as dried fish. The chief root is camas but there are several other species in general use. In their proper season, berries are also very numerous in certain localities.

One striking peculiarity of these inland people is the extent to which they pounded or pulverized dried flesh and vegetables quite like agricultural peoples treat forms of grain. The trait seems to be almost a conventionality and leads one to suspect that the idea was borrowed from their southern neighbors who, as we shall see, were in contact with grain grinders. The tribes of the coast, particularly the indented island-studded part north of Puget Sound, did not have this pulverizing habit, nor did they make very extensive use of roots. Dried fish and berries were their staples. Where available, a kind of clover was eaten green and the inner bark of the hemlock worked up into a kind of bread-like food.

While in this area the tribes of the coast maintained fairly permanent villages; those of the interior were rather nomadic, or more correctly, moved in an annual cycle, according to their food habits. Thus at the salmon run each group took its accustomed place on a river bank; then as berries ripened, they shifted to the localities where they were abundant; later they moved again for the gathering of roots; again for hunting deer, and so on in one ceaseless round. To a less extent this seasonal shifting prevailed among the coast tribes, for by the use of canoes they could readily reach the places sought and return again to their villages.

This correlation between the use of wild foods and instability of residence is perhaps more striking in this area than in the others but, nevertheless, holds for all. The Eskimo regularly shifted from sea to inland and back again as winter set in. Likewise, the caribou, bison, and guanaco hunters, each in their respective habitats, shifted according to seasonal

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