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VENICE.

BY M. W. WHITFIELD, M.A.

PART I.

LAMBTON BRIDGE.

A REVERIE BY THE RIVER, Soft clouds sailed silent o'er the sky,

The stream brawled o'er its bed : An angler threw his tempting fly,

“Our Mutual Friend" I read. I read, I wrote, I made a note

Or two in Boz's book.
I spun a rhyme : he cast meantime

Athwart the Wear his hook.
I dozed and dreamt upon the turf,

As well as buzzing flies
Would let me do, while fisher threw

His line to lure a rise.
Now Boffin and the Bower advanced

Their claims upon my eye ;
And now through Lambton Bridge I glanced

Upon the rod and fly.
The angler stood, as you've oft seen

Him in a picture stand,
Where wo ded banks are gay and green,

And pebbled is the strand.
From page to page I wandered on,

He threw and threw his line :
I read and watched, he nothing catched,

The fish did not incline :
Did not incline to bite, though I

Grew hungry as I looked,
And hoped some salmon by the fly

Would kindly soon be hooked.
Who knows? Perhaps the Lainbton Worm,

By us immortal two,
Might long and lank be brought to bank,

And sent off to the Zoo !
From morn to noon we read and fished,

And on from noon to night;
But fondly as we watched and wished,

Nor nibble was nor bite.
The fishes slily winked at me

As I winked o'er my book,
And wagged their tails, and said “You'll seo

H m catch us with a hook."
Now of my book I take a look-

Amuse my nodding eye
With Boffin's "literary man,"

Who hooked him on the sly.
We hooked no fish. The turbid flond,

That hurried by in haste,
Refused us in the shady wood

Of trout a single taste.
But what of that? Its waters ran

With music in their flow;
The sun brought life and joy to man;

And waved, the leafy bough.
The songsters charmed us with their notes,

By Mother Nature taught;
And listening to their mellow throats,

We cared not what was caught.
What thought we of the empty creel,

My fisher friend and I?
Who in the woods can't happy feel,

Though fish disdain the fly?
They'll rise some other day more keen,

If now our hopes be crossed ;
Enough to live in this fair scene ;

The day has not been lost.
Thanks, Dickens, for thy printed page ;

Thanks for thy one blank leaf ;
Thanks that the store was not still more,
Or I had been less brief.

JAMES CLEPHAN.

CANNON STREET TO VENICE.
TEVEN minutes to eight on a fine morning

about Easter time. “Ticket, sir,” says the inspector, and we pass the barriers to the platform of Cannon Street Station. On our left are two or three vans labelled “Royal Mail.” Beyond these are several handsome and comfortable carriages, in one of which we dispose ourselves and our little baggage ; for, having previously undertaken Continental journeys, we know by experience the troubles attending luggage which cannot be carried in the hand, and placed over our heads or under the seat. Three minutes to eight ! "Tickets, please!" And we are duly overhauled and locked in. Eight o'clock ! Whistle number one from the guard, whistle number two from the engine, and we are outside the station crossing the Thames. Taking a last look at grey old London Bridge and muddy Thames, we devote ourselves to the morning papers, and pay but little heed to the bright villas of Chislehurst, or the hop gardens of Kent, or, indeed to aught else, till the slackened speed announces our arrival at the sea coast near Dover, where we have the pleasure of looking over a calm sea laving the white cliffs of the native land we are about to leave behind.

The train carries us down to the steamer lying alongside Dover Pier, so that we have no long walk before embarking, but merely step on board and amuse ourselves till the packet starts, by tracing the outlines of the ancient Castle on the cliffs, and watching the dexterity with which the porters shoot the miscellaneous luggage from the pier to the deck.

A few minutes more and we are steaming at a good rate across the Channel. The sea is smooth and the wind scarce perceptible. Yet many of our fellow passengers, having made up their minds to suffer, engage expensive cabins, dose themselves with nostrums warranted to cure sea-sickness, and soon work themselves into a fairly miserable condition. Not sympathizing much with these victims of their own fears, we betake ourselves to the bridge of the steamer, and watch the white cliffs receding and finally lost in the distant haze. We then try to peer across the

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interval which separates us from the French fortable for the night, draw the little curtain coast, and in due time are rewarded with a across the carriage lamp, and see no more for view of Calais.

some hours.

Meanwhile the engine hurries Calais is not an inviting place, and therefore us along past towns and villages of greater or

less note, principally the latter ; and when we

; we are well pleased when the period of waiting awake we find but little to interest us, except is over, even though its conclusion compels us the grand range of the Jura Mountains, until to enter one of the close, dusty French carriages, we come to the neighbourhood of Modane. where you knock your head against the ceiling, Here we leave the French carriages, this being and scarce procure sufficient air to breathe by the last station before the boundary is crossed.

Notice of this fact is further given us by the opening the little dirty windows.

double-faced clock, marked on one side “Ora Few incidents mark our onward journey.

di Roma," Roman time; on the other “ Heure The train stops once at a small wayside station, de Paris,” Paris time; the French face being apparently for the benefit of a little hunchback, three quarters of an hour behind the Italian. who leans over some railings and plays Some considerable interval is usually allowed vigorously on a flute, a proceeding which is at Modane before the start for Italy, an invariably rewarded by the coppers of misguided important matter for the keepers of the passengers. I have many times passed by this restaurant in this strange Alpine valley. How

ever we have soon done with waiters and heavy station. The train has always stopped there, charges; and sally forth from the commonplace and the little hunchback has never failed to railway station to gaze on the assemblage of put in an appearance to play the single tune he snow-clad mountains by which we are enclosed. knows. It contains some four or five bars of Modane itself is an insignificant, outlandish notes peculiarly irritating to the nerves.

place, that does not seem to have derived much Fortunately, however, the train does not wait benefit from the introduction of the locomotive.

The houses are somewhat quaint, albeit dirty, long, and we speed away through a bare, and show traces of their position on the borderunpicturesque country, made interesting, how- land of two countries in the polyglot nature of ever, by the river Somme, with its memories of the signboards. Yet even these mean, tumblethe battle of Crecy.

down hovels appear to gain a certain dignity At Amiens we are allowed about a quarter

from their situation amid the white-robed of an hour for refreshments. We avail our

giants of the Alps.

But we must not wander too far. The time selves of the privilege of visiting the Refresh- for departure is rapidly approaching, and we ment Room, and see a little basket full of nice must return to face the ordeal of the customlooking oranges. “Just the thing for such a house search. This turns out to be a merely dusty journey," we mentally remark, at the nominal proceeding, and we soon take our seats same time enquiring the price. “ Half a franc in an Italian carriage. The necessary gongs, each," replies the attendant maiden. We bells, horns, and whistles having produced each abandon our designs upon the oranges in favour its own particular noise, we ascend the valley of a less expensive diet.

on a sweeping curve to the mouth of the Paris comes into view about six o'clock in tunnel. A short whistle, and we are in the the evening. A ride through the city of some so-called Mont Cenis. The air throughout is length brings us to the Great Northern Station. pure, and the tunnel lofty. We pull out our Here we hail a cab. Cabby draws up and hands watches to mark the time of entrance. Lights us a little paper. This proves to be a printed are passed at short intervals. In twenty-eight list of the fares he is entitled to charge. The minutes and a few seconds daylight appears driver's tall hat, made of waterproof leather, through numerous holes in the side of the strikes us as somewhat peculiar. After a long tunnel ; in a few more seconds we are under drive through straight, spacious boulevards the open sky of Italy. bordered by houses of five and six storeys, The train stops for a few minutes at the first among which the only thing that strikes our Italian station, and we have time to alight and attention is the column on the site of the Old look around. The few soldiers and officials Bastille, we reach the terminus of the Paris, lounging about appear to us somewhat slovenly, Lyons, and Mediterranean Railway. Three and the buildings mean. But we can scarcely quarters of an hour for tea and tickets, and we expect palatial grandeur in such a remote enter the night mail for Turin.

corner of the earth. And, after all, the snowy Darkness comes on rapidly, and the evening Alpine peaks, upreared against the sky, need grows cold. There being no other passengers no work of man to add to their magnificence. in our compartment, we make ourselves com- Again entering our carriage we are hurried on

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through fields of snow not yet melted by the Passing through the crowd of loungers and out spring-time sun. The

way

leads downward and at the further end of the Arcade, we find ourthe scene grows milder. We pass through selves in a vast open space at the very centre numberless little tunnels, some of them but a of the city. few score yards in length. The charms of A busy scene lies before us

-foot passengers Italy begin to show themselves. Now comes filling the side walks, vehicles hurrying in all another way-side station at which there is a directions, fineshops, well constructed buildings. stoppage of some minutes. Here the guard But what vision is this which rises on our left? and officials leave the train, not to look after It needs but little knowledge to recognise the more passengers, of whom there appear to be famous white marble cathedral of Milan, with none, but to fraternize with the station-master its five thousand statues ranged in order on its and the natives. The passengers likewise take summit. Let us enter and gaze upon the the opportunity to promenade the platform massive columns within ; let us admire the

1 and see who are their companions in the adjoin- richly stained glass that casts a subdued and ing carriages. After the officials of the train sombre light over the interior; and, if you and station have concluded their friendly chat, wish it, we will inspect the silver-lined chapel we hear the preliminary cry of "Partenza," which contains the remains of Saint Carlo and deem it necessary to again take our places. Borromeo, though you will probably not be A certain amount of whistling and horn-blow- disposed to pay five francs for the doubtful ing is gone through, and then the train privilege of seeing the body of the good saint continues its descent. The landscape grows himself

. But, at any rate, we must ascend to richer as we proceed, but remains ever bounded the topmost pinnacle of the cathedral, from by the line of snow on the surrounding heights. which we may see the rich alluvial plains Down and still down, till we reach the fruitful enclosed by the far off Alps, that glow so and well-cultivated plain, through which we brightly in the sunshine. We descry many a are speedily conveyed to Turin.

well-known peak, and try to become familiar Here let us rest, before proceeding on our with some of the less celebrated. But the eye, journey to-morrow morning. To while away wearied with the endless succession, turns back the time we will take a quiet stroll through for rest upon the fair city that lies outspread the broad, clean streets, all running from one beneath us. How different is the cloudless end of the city to the other; so that, although atmosphere from the grimy dulness of so many Turin is a populous place, you may stand in the English towns! Here people have contrived open country, look right through the city, and to live together by the hundred thousand withsee the open fields on the other side. As we out rendering the face of nature hideous. The go about the streets we do not fail to observe bright collection of buildings below seems an the soldiers in their strange hats ornamented ornament rather than an excrescence on the with many plumes, and the dark-eyed maidens sunny landscape. But let us look still nearer. wbom the land of Italy produces in such The cathedral roof, instead of being covered abundance. But daylight vanishes, and we with lead, is made up of marble slabs. can see no more.

it rises a forest of pinnacles, each decorated We must be up betimes, for we have a long with marble statues, some of them of a great journey before us. Starting from Turin we size, thousands in number. pass through the fertile plain of Lombardy, But we must not forget that our destination watered by many a noble stream, that derives is Venice, so we will hasten down from our its waters from the melting of the Alpine elevated standpoint, hurry back to the station,

Richness and assiduous cultivation leave bebind us the relics of Saint Ambrose and mark the region through which we are passing. the great picture of the Last Supper, by LeonFruit trees are planted at intervals in the midst ardo da Vinci, and commit ourselves to the of the crops, and vines are stretched from one noisy, hurrying locomotive, which carries us at tree to another. Thus the ground is made to express speed past the broad surface of Lake bear three different crops at one time. Pre-Garda, the amphitheatre and ancient remains sently we come to Milan.

of Verona, the seven-domed church and wellThis being one of the largest and most pros- known University of Padua, to our last stopping perous of Italian cities, we will spend a little place on the mainland, at Mestre. Starting time before proceeding. We walk through hence, we soon commence the passage of the several wide and fine streets, and enter a grand gigantic bridge of more than 200 arches, that covered promenade, compared with which our connects Venice with the rest of the world. A English Burlington Arcade is but insignificant couple of miles or more of riding over the Many good shops are here to be found, a great waters, and the speed slackens, we draw up, number showing signs that the German must alight, and find ourselves in Venice. be an important part of the community.

(To be Continued.)

snows.

BY KATE THOMPSON.

A SONG.

between his legs, bringing him down a cropper,

and had stood there guard over him. Dear old What laughing eyes you raised to mine,

Jem, you were worth fifty policemen. You My love I when first we met,

learnt no bad habits, even from your first Unshadowed by a single cloud

master, Naha Sahib. Your next master was Of life or love's regret.

a brave soldier, who fought in with Havelock's What happy eyes you raised to mine,

force into Lucknow; he got a wound, of which My love ! a year ago,

he died; you got two, one through your upper Half drooping lest their tale of bliss Should all too plainly show.

jaw, which certainly did not improve your What weary eyes you raised to mine,

beauty. You cost Naha Sahib £50. You cost My love ! but yesterday,

me £5, but £500 would not have separated Before all life, and light, and joy

me from my dear, gentle friend of my friends In death had passed away.

-but what a terror to any foe of mine. But

I am not writing of dogs, but loafers. REMINISCENCES OF AN INDIAN CHAPLAIN. It was marvellous the hair-breadth escapes

and the prodigies of valour some of these loafers LOAFERS.

had performed. The atrocities they had been OUGHT to know something about loafers eye-witnesses of were simply untellable.

I —not that I have ever been one myself, imagine it was from the fruitful brain of the but I have for many years taken an interest loafers that the large proportion of the in this peculiar portion of mankind. I always, atrocities of 1857 were produced. Before I as a boy, liked the gipsy. I do not believe the

went up to Cawnpore, in succession of the

chaplain who had been massacred with the gipsy belongs to any particular nationality; rest of the brave fellows who had held for he is one of the products of all nationalities. weeks the open barracks, which were dignified The loafer-who does not like a settled life by the title of “Wheeler's entrenchments,” I has a strong objection to continuous labour or was in Calcutta, and of course every scrap of hard work of any kind. He is generally rather news from Havelock's advancing force was clever with his hands, knows something of some

seized upon with avidity. At luncheon one

day the wife of one of the volunteers received small handicraft, but the most useful member a letter from her husband, which she read. In of bis body is his tongue.

it he depicted some of the horrors he had My experiences of loafer life in India began witnessed on his entrance into Cawnpore, and many years ago—before the mutiny of '57; but concluded by saying that he had seen the it was just after the mutiny, when, as chaplain bodies of children crucified by the dozen, and of Cawnpore, I became intimate with them. I women naked staked out and so left to die. had to distribute a good portion of the noble Of course the blood of all of us men boiled gift the English people sent out to relieve the with vengeance against the miscreants who distress of those who had been spared from the could do such deeds of infamy. But subseterrible massacres and slaughters of '57. It quently, on reaching Cawnpore, I learnt that was as distributor of the Relief Fund there this was only a loafer's tale. Horrible and that I had many opportunities of studying the terrible as was the scene enacted in the peculiarities of this “ peculiar people." slaughter-house at Cawnpore, on the night of

One gentleman was in a particularly favour- the 16th of July, 1857, yet no corpse was left able position for study. He was lying on his but what was thrown into the well, over which back, with a large, ugly, bull dog standing on Lord Canning subsequently erected the his breast, and very ugly teeth in close magnificent figure of the Angel of Death with proximity to his throat. I was returning from her palm branches resting on her bosom. hospital, and knew my dog was of doubtful Another loafer's tale was a circumstantial temper to any one who was uncivil to me or account of what two of them witnessed from mine, and thought every one in Cawnpore knew the roof of a house on the night of the mutiny it too. So, on his asking me to call off the dog, at Allahabad, when the 6th N. I. massacred their I said, "No, not until you tell me why the dog officers at mess. These worthy gentlemen told knocked you down.” He protested that it was the public, through the press, that they lay perdu uncomfortable talking with the dog's nose so whilst the wreck of a neighbouring merchant's close to his own. I daresay he would not have house and property was going on; that they objected to “dog's nose” out a quart pot, saw the various members of the family dragged but a bull dog's nose was another matter. I forth and murdered with various atrocities, and insisted, however, in having Jem's character as a climax they saw the wife and mother cleared ; and he had to confess he had been roasted alive. Some months later my servant insolent to my wife, upon which the dog bolted brought me in a piece of paper on which was

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written, “Mrs. Archer, late of Allahabad." I the burden of relieving officer usually falls in immediately remembered the circumstantial an Indian station-instituted various methods account of the roasting alive of this very to meet the ever-increasing evil of European individual; and on her making her appearance pauperism. No one of us had sufficient inI expostulated with her on the impropriety of Auence with the rest to induce all to follow the being roasted in July, and in December coming same system, and work in union. At Allato me to relieve her temporal necessities. Of habad, at which place the junction of the great course the whole thing was a loafer's tale, trunk lines takes place, the chaplain established copied, I doubt not, into nearly every English a loafer's home, where these men had lodging paper, for which the inventor got £1, with and board whilst looking for work; but I which he was able to get drink for a week. have doubts as to the wisdom of this system,

The loafer is a magnificent liar. With a little which had already been tried in Calcutta and more education he would be a novelist who Bombay. It is the English system of workwould be a small fortune to some of the penny house, minus the stone-breaking, which is a weeklies. I know that even skilled journalists, wholesome check on able-bodied loaferism. like Dr. Russell, were puzzled with their tales, When, therefore, I was, in 1868, removed to and, I doubt not, were often taken in. One great Lucknow, and found loaferism to be a public big fellow always commenced business by saying, nuisance and the residents loudly complaining “ My name is John Paul. In the year '57 I of it, instead of opening a home to attract the belonged to the Lahore Light Horse, and species, I determined to try a plan I had found served under,” &c., and if you listened to him very effective three years before in an outany longer (which I never did) you would have of-the-way station—Jhansi. Ι

There, as at a supposed you had nothing more to do for him convenient halting-place between Sangor and beyond writing to Lord Lawrence, the Governor- Agra, we were occasionally honoured with a General, who would immediately remember visit from some distinguished members of the the distinguished services of John Paul, and at clan. Two of them, who had both been, as once send him 1,000 rupees, to relieve the they said, tradesmen in a large way, called on temporary distress of this worthy hero of a thou- us, and were very successful in their raid on sand fights. I always cut him short by saying, about a dozen officers' houses, which was the “Yes, John, I remember you quite well at extent of Jhansi, (not including the soldiers' Muttra in the year '53, when you were moving barracks, which always yield a good revenue to over the country in great comfort with a large these gentlemen). They only remained with us tent, bullock carts, and two wives—or was it one day. The ensuing week I met a gentleman three then ? and living an easy, dissipated life; who had just come off a journey from Agra. in fact, loafing. And now, tell me have you At the next staging bungalow, thirty six miles ever done a day's work for fourteen years ?” from Jhansi, he had come in contact with our The answer was always, “I think, sir, you are loafer friends of the week before, and had the mistaken about those wives. It wasn't me, misery of passing the night in the next room, sir; and it is true about the Lahore Light and overheard the worthies toasting those fools Horse ; and I do really expect to get work next at Jhansi who had supplied them with the week at Meerut, if I could only manage to get means to keep drunk for a fortnight. I was enough money together to get there.” To determined to find out how much they had which I replied, “Well, John, here's a ticket got, and, by going round to every house, disfor Meerut, and don't let me see your hand-covered they had bullied £15 out of the comsome, though dark, face for another three munity, and had spent £12 of it at the shop of years." He generally did vanish for about the Pharsee merchants in the purchase of beer, that period.

I think he had divided Her wine, and spirits, which they had carried off to Majesty's North-West Provinces into three the nearest staging bungalow, " afar from the divisions, and that he went through then, abodes of men,” to enjoy at their leisure. I levying his black mail, in regular order, giving thought this was too good a joke to have rea year to each.

peated, so sent a circular to all the stations, All my loafer friends, however, were not so asking them if they would join in a little plan amenable as John Paul; and as railways were I had conceived, which would be an effectual pushed up through the length of the land, and block to such tricks in the future. It might men were dismissed from their employment cost us a few shillings a week each at first, but for drunkenness; or brought up from Calcutta I believed would be far cheaper in the long and Bombay loafers of every nationality — run, and save us all an infinity of trouble and American, French, Spanish, German, Italian, annoyance. All agreed to subscribe, and I as well as shoals of English, Irish, and Scotch made my arrangements. -it became necessary to reduce relief to a As soon as any European came into our system. Several of the chaplains-on whom district, from either Sangor, Agra, or Cawn

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