Journal

he discovers that he is the only man in an assembly wearing a light suit or a low hat, and would put up with a great amount of privation and disappointment rather than not be, in this respect, as other men are. Of course, the reason for this is, that in the one case Fame is the reward, and in the other that an unenviable distinction is the result. None the less, however, is there a paradoxical touch about it, and one would imagine that a man accustomed to perfect self-dependence in abnormal situations would not be affected by the mere idea that other folk were jeering at him.

As regards the international meaning of the word singularity, it may be said to express in each nation's language that which is not usual in the manners and customs of that nation; but with regard to Englishmen in particular, the word most usually employed is eccentricity. Thus, in those parts of the globe where out-of-door life is all but intolerable during certain hours of the day to all but natives, the solitary British globetrotter, who has a certain time at his disposal in which to perform a certain amount of sight-seeing work, is a familiar object. Hence the common phrase in such countries descriptive of broiling weather: Fit only for Englishmen and dogs.' But in such a case there is some plausible foundation for the application of this epithet to us; whilst in many others we are dubbed eccentric simply because our habits and ideas do not tally exactly with those of our satirists. Hence we are deemed eccentric because we have a firm belief in cold water and fresh air; because we must play cricket wherever we go; because when we meet each other in the streets we do not hug and kiss; because we travel many miles in all weathers in order to see a crumbling bit of old wall or to hear a curious echo. The reverse of all this in the foreign character makes us say, What singular people these are!' and, just as that which is one man's meat may be another man's poison, so that which is natural in one nation becomes singularity or eccentricity in another.

But we in England are far less tolerant of eccentricity than are foreigners. The eccentric Briton is gazed at, smiled at, shoulders are shrugged, the remark is made in an apologetic, explanatory tone, 'He is English,' and the matter is dropped. But at our hands the smallest singularity from our point of view meets with open derision and sarcasm. The first Volunteers, the first Bicyclists and Tricyclists who appeared in the London streets underwent a species of constant martyrdom before the profanum vulgus became familiar with their presence. Let a man walk through a London suburb in the garb worn by hundreds of men when they are shooting or tramping-knickerbockers, loose coat, and Tam o'Shanter bonnet-and he will be as much stared and grinned at as if he was incased in chain

armour.

And when a certain type of Briton goes abroad, he comports himself in a similar fashion. He sees a Frenchman on a blazing hot day sensibly arrayed in a Panama hat, a bombazine coat, and white duck trousers, and he says, 'What queer beggars these Frenchmen are, to dress themselves like that!' quite oblivious of the fact, that he himself is the queer beggar' for preferring to

swelter in a heavy hat, a tight collar, and tweed trousers.

Thus it may be noticed how in the streets of London the most absurdly trivial circumstance attracts public notice. A man tying up his shoestrings, or having his boots blacked, or buying fruit from a street stall, provided he be well dressed, is an occasion almost for excitement amongst the loafers and gamins; whilst such phenomena as a horse down, or a bill-poster putting up an advertisement, or a slight accident, or the smallest of rows, is as sure to gather an eager, open-mouthed mob as Punch and Judy or a fire-engine.

But the ridiculous stress which we put upon not appearing singular, is even better exemplified in our ordinary everyday life. A man, let us say, when alone invariably drinks beer with his dinner; but if he invites a few friends to dine with him, he would as soon think of having the fish served before the soup, as of permitting a beer-jug to be set on the table. Similarly, it may happen to be an intensely warm evening; but the guest who should choose to come to dinner in a cool light suit would be deemed not only singular, but ill-bred, and would be considered to be setting the proprieties at defiance. To such an extent is this typically English fashion of dressing for dinner in one style during all seasons and under all circumstances carried, that in one of the once princely mercantile houses of the Far East, the employees are absolutely commanded never to sit down to dinner except in evening dress, and the melancholy, ridiculous spectacle is often presented of a couple of junior clerks sitting opposite to one another in all the glory of black coats and white chokers, whilst the thermometer stands at ninety, and a coolie is pulling the punkah with all his might.

Respect for the proprieties is all very well; but when we pay this respect at the cost of commonsense and our personal comfort, it becomes an exacted tribute rather than a voluntary offering. It is this dread of appearing singular which induces men regularly to attend the opera and the fashionable concerts who do not know the difference between the British Grenadiers and the Old Hundredth Psalm; which makes them 'tip' well-paid officials and servants; shut themselves up in London at that time of the year when the country is most attractive, and do a hundred other things which are distasteful in themselves, and which procures for them a very trifling atom more respect and consideration than if they were left undone. Mrs Grundy has a good deal to answer for in not making the grooves of our everyday lives smoother, but assuredly for nothing more than her crusade against what is called singularity.

But the most extraordinary feature in the popular estimation of what goes to make singularity is the readiness with which people will rush in a diametrically opposite direction, when once the example is set them by some one of influence or position. Thirty years ago, the man who smoked in public was stared at as a singular being; BO was the man who wore moustaches; so would have been women of fashion clad in semi-masculine attire and driving out alone; or the man who would have dared to go to his office in the morning clad in a light

Journal

I had just shaken hands with Mrs Talbot, and was apologising for the non-appearance of Captain G, when her father came in, and shortly afterwards we sat down to dinner. A capital one it was too, with very good wine.

The conversation during dinner naturally turned upon our coming voyage, and I learned that this was the first time Mrs Talbot had ever been out of England, or had in fact been separated from her parents-to whom she was evidently devotedly attached-for more than a few weeks at a time. She told me, with tears in her lovely eyes, that she had said good-bye to her mother the day before, as Mrs Morris was not strong enough to travel up to town from their home in the west of England, and that she dreaded the parting with her father very much.

'Only natural, my dear May,' said he; but think of poor Will in his lonely bungalow at Madras, eagerly expecting your arrival; and cheer

up.'

So I do, papa,' she replied; but I dread the parting all the same, and only wish Will would give up that horrid India, and come home, so that we could all be together.'

I thought of the many young, fresh-looking, pretty English girls that I had seen going out to that country, whom I had met only a few years afterwards, looking pale-faced, worn, and quite old, and how much better it would be for her to remain in England; but of course I did not say so. When dinner was over, we had music; and I found Mrs Talbot played and sang most delightfully; and I thought we had cause to congratulate ourselves upon such an acquisition during our long voyage.

After giving them all sorts of advice about sending their luggage on board and their own embarkation, I took my leave; and as I wended my way eastward, I confided to my cheroot what a charming creature I thought Mrs Talbot, and how much I considered Talbot was to be envied.

The days passed on, and the morning of our departure arrived; and about noon I saw the small steamer that brings off the passengers coming alongside the Racehorse where she was lying in the river off Gravesend. I was called away just at the moment, and on returning shortly afterwards, found Mr Morris and his daughter on the quarter-deck talking to the captain. I was rather vexed at not having been the first to welcome them on board; but this feeling soon passed away, and I set myself to work to assist them in getting their traps down into the cabin, which, as I thought, I had been able to secure for Mrs Talbot alone. I must pass over the parting between father and daughter-it is too sacred to be lightly touched upon; and though one in my position sees so inch of that sort of thing, I was very much affected by it. As the old man went over the side to return to the shore, leaving his child behind him, whom he might never see in this world again, the tears stood in his eyes, and I think also in mine, as he pressed my hand, bade God bless me, and whispered: Take care of her; she is very sensitive, and will, I know, feel these partings

very much.'

I was still gazing at the small steamer, which was now at some distance from the Racehorse, thinking how many sad hearts were on board her,

and especially of the brave old man who was returning to his childless home, when I was interrupted by the stewardess, who informed me that Mrs Talbot, after parting from her father, had retired to her cabin, where she had had a succession of fainting-fits, followed by an hysterical burst of tears. I gave Mrs Abbott directions what to do, said she was to be kept perfectly quiet, and that I would come and see her later on, but that at present I thought the fewer people she saw, the better. By this time we were under way; and as the good ship threaded her course down the crowded river, I turned to have a look at the other passengers, who were nearly all at that time on deck. They were the usual sort we have before the really busy season commences, mostly Civil Service and other government officials returning from their three months' leave, with very few ladies. But one, I may as well say a few words about now, as she plays an important part in my story, though I did not make her acquaintance till some time later. She was a Mrs Johns, a very handsome Eurasian (or 'half-caste,' as we call them), wife of a government pleader in Calcutta, who, though not in society there, yet gave herself no end of airs, on the strength, I suppose, of the many rupees her husband was making. She was a tall, fine woman of about thirty, I believe, but looked some years older, with flashing black eyes, and, like all those people, dressed in the most magnificent style. At first sight, she gave one the impression of being a supercilious and disagreeable woman; but I afterwards found that beneath the layer of affectation, she possessed a warm and kind heart. She travelled with her ayah and kitmutghar (native table servant), and quite looked down upon those who were not similarly accompanied.

Some hours afterwards, as I walked up and down the deck with a young fellow in the P. W. D., who had taken a former trip with us, I noticed Mrs Abbott the stewardess standing by the companion hatchway, evidently wishing to speak to me. I went forward, and asked her how Mrs Talbot was. She told me that she had at last fallen asleep, but not before she had completely worn herself out with crying. Even now, she was not quiet, but moaning and sighing in her sleep. The stewardess then whispered something in my ear, at which I started, and exclaimed: 'Impossible! The doctors would never have allowed her to make the voyage if such were the case.'

'You will find I am right,' replied Mrs Abbott. But I wish, sir, you would come and see her.'

I at once went below with the stewardess, thinking what a complication this would make, if true. As I entered the cabin where Mrs Talbot was lying on a sofa, looking, I thought, very pale and exhausted, she opened her eyes, showing how light her sleep had been, and holding out her hand, said with a slight blush: "You little thought I should so soon be in your hands professionally, Dr Weston; but I told you how I dreaded the parting with my father; and you see my instincts were true. I fell asleep just now, and oh!'-she shuddered 'what horrid dreams I had. I dreamt that I died on the voyage, and was buried in the Red Sea, and '

'Hush, my dear young lady,' said I, seeing how excited she was becoming. Try and compose yourself by looking forward to your happy meeting with your husband.'

'Ah! Will, poor Will,' she cried, 'I shall never see you again either;' and she burst into an incontrollable fit of weeping.

Seeing my presence had only the effect of exciting her more, I quitted the cabin, telling the stewardess not to allow her to talk, but to give her the medicine I would send, at once. As soon as I had despatched one of the stewards with the draught, I went to my cabin to dress for dinner. While dressing, I thought a good deal about my fair patient. She was, I could see, of a very excitable temperament, one of those highly and sensitively organised creatures who feel pain and pleasure far more acutely than we more phlegmatic ones can imagine. I trusted a night's rest would do her great good, and that before we reached Malta, she would be quite herself again. Vain hope; but I must not anticipate.

Next morning, I was delighted to hear that Mrs Talbot had passed a quiet night, and felt well enough to come on deck. She continued to improve, but did not seem to recover her spirits, and more than once I found her in tears. Do not scold me,' she said on one occasion; 'I know how foolish it is; but I can't help it, when I think of those two dear old things at home, to whom I was all in all, and how they will get on without me. I feel so miserable, and half inclined to return home from Gibraltar.'

I tried to soothe her by again saying she should try to look forward, instead of back; but it seemed of no use; she appeared to shrink from all mention of her husband's name, and I began to wonder why. I knew she had been married very young-when barely seventeen, in fact; but I understood it to be a love-match, and- Well, you see, being a bachelor myself, I suppose I couldn't make it out.

We chatted away on different subjects for some time, and I was glad to see her getting into a more cheerful frame of mind. She told me, among other things, that she had made the acquaintance of Mrs Johns, who, though vulgar, was yet amusing in her intense conceit.

We had a smooth passage to Gibraltar; the much-maligned Bay of Biscay, that all seem so much to dread, was as calm as a millpond; and on anchoring there, I went for a run on shore with young Moncrieff, the P.-W.-D. man I spoke of. We were to sail again at five P.M., so in good time we drove down to the Ragged Staff and returned to the ship.

On arriving on board, I was shocked to hear from Mrs Abbott, that shortly after I had gone ashore, the mail-boat came off, and that Mrs Talbot got a letter, which she took to her cabin, where the stewardess found her shortly afterwards in a dead faint, from which she had some difficulty in reviving her.

I went down at once, and found Mrs Talbot still sobbing hysterically. She told me all had happened as she expected that the letter was from her father, who wrote that on his return home he had found her dear mother ill in bed, evidently overcome by the shock of her daughter's departure.

I was sure she was making the worst of matters, and exaggerating what her father had written, as I felt certain he was too sensible to write such a thing, even if it were the case; but all I could say was of no avail, so I left her to the care of the stewardess.

I will not weary you with accounts of Mrs Talbot's health from day to day; suffice it to say she was again getting better, when a fearful shock awaited her at Malta. Among the letters brought on board there was one for her with a deep black border, addressed in a man's hand. Not knowing Mr Morris's handwriting, I thought at first it was from him, containing the news of her mother's death; but on looking again, I saw the postmark was 'Glasgow ;' and smiling to myself to think how nervous I was getting on Mrs Talbot's behalf, I took the letter down to her, forgetting that she might very likely jump to the same conclusion, which, unfortunately, proved to be the case; for, not finding her in the saloon, I knocked at her cabin door, which she opened, and seeing the black-edged letter in my hand, shrieked out: 'She is dead! and you have come to break the news to me. O my poor mother!' and fell fainting into my arms.

I laid her on the sofa and called loudly for the stewardess. Mrs Johns was in her cabin opposite, and hearing me calling, rushed in to see what was the matter, and assisted me in restoring her to consciousness. This took a long time, which rather alarmed me, especially as I felt how feeble her pulse was; but at last we succeeded, and Mrs Johns kindly assisted the stewardess to undress and put her to bed. I went to the surgery to get her some medicine, inwardly anathematising myself for having behaved so foolishly as to take down the letter as I did; but who could have foreseen the consequences?

On my return, I found her lying with her eyes wide open, but noticing nothing; and it was a long time before I could make her understand the letter was not from her father at all, but from Glasgow. When she did at last comprehend it, she exclaimed: From my uncle! Oh, thank God! My dear mother!' and burst into tears.

I am afraid you will think my patient a regular Niobe; but you must remember what I have told you of her excitable disposition, her present state, and all she had gone through.

When I saw her next morning, I thought she seemed a little better, but alas! I was mistaken; the shock had been too much for her, and she became worse and worse until we arrived at Suez.

I was terribly anxious then as to what effect the heat of the Red Sea in September would have upon her, but at the same time knew it was out of the question thinking of landing her in her present state, so determined to do the best I could for her, hoping that, once the terrible Sea was passed in safety, the refreshing breezes of the Indian Ocean would pull her round a bit before we reached Colombo.

The heat of the Red Sea was truly fearful, the little wind there was being after us, so that the smoke from our funnels ascended in a perfectly straight column; and I confess that more than once I thought of her dream, and how fearfully probable it seemed that it would come true.