Chambers's Journal, ROSE-CULTURE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. "This way!' shouted Coghlan, and dashed off in the direction of the quarter-master's store. About a dozen of us followed him; but when we got to the store, we found it securely locked; while the untrodden snow in its vicinity bore incontrovertible testimony to the fact that no one could recently have been there. The major in command, who had been rudely awakened from his sleep by the din and turmoil in the barracks, now approached us, and perceiving Coghlan directing our movements, cried to him: 'Aw-who are you, sir?' 'I belong to the Dublin detective department, sir!' was Coghlan's reply. 431 hobby, had made no scruple of defying military regulations by venturing out of bounds.' Their conversation of the previous morning had confirmed a suspicion within Coghlan's mind that they were in league with the Fenians, and that they intended stealing the arms with the assistance of civilian confederates; to which the action of Curran in surreptitiously admitting the servants readily gave colour. As it was, the remark 'After the arms are stored' merely referred to the time when O'Neill would be disengaged to meet a member of the betting fraternity outside. Coghlan, who had all along been in communication with the police authorities, had at once arranged to have a party of constabulary within O'Neill was searched for, and was found asleep in bed, but looked terribly dismayed and aston-hail. ished when Coghlan arrested him on a charge of complicity with the Fenian agitators. By this time all the sleepers in barracks were awakened, and turned out in a strange variety of costumes to witness the upshot of this unwonted nocturnal episode. The major, with an absurd attempt to screw his face into an expression of extreme severity, sharply reprimanded O'Neill and Curran, and released them, after threatening them with all the pains and penalties of military law if they came before him again on a similar charge. Following O'Neill, between two of his captors, we were proceeding in the direction of the guard- Then the landlord of the Harp spoke out, and room, when we came across the group of con- complained of the injustice done to his house, stables in charge of the men who had gained which, he maintained, had been always conducted admission to the barracks in the mysterious in a respectable manner. The result was that fashion before described, and who were making the major removed the ban from the hostelry, most vehement protestations of innocence. To and the Irish Harp was read out in regimental our relief and most intense amusement, we found orders as having been admitted within bounds.' that they were no other than a few officers' servants who had been having a spree in town, and who had arranged beforehand with Curran to let them in on the quiet; hence the mystery attached to the sentry's movements. The affair had now a most ludicrous aspect. Peal after peal of laughter arose from the constables and the men of the detachment; and the over-sharp detective-recruit Coghlan looked remarkably sheepish in the face of the fierce fire of 'chaff' with which he was assailed from all quarters. Still, much had to be explained in connection with the meetings at the Harp, which Coghlan, anxious to make a case, reported to the major; so that officer, amid suppressed laughter, ordered O'Neill and Curran under close arrest, and the men back to bed. At the suggestion of the police inspector, the major granted Coghlan leave of absence, and he left barracks with the detachment of constabulary. The next morning the prisoners were taken before the major; and the landlord of the Harp having, at O'Neill's request, attended to give evidence, proved in the most satisfactory and conclusive manner that the fancied conspirators who frequented his house were nothing more nor less than a few betting-men, who were more concerned about 'backing the winner' than troubling themselves about the wrongs of their country; and while Coghlan imagined they were engaged in plotting the overthrow of Saxon rule in Ireland, they were merely discussing the 'odds' on the forthcoming races at the Curragh. Curran explained that the mysterious missives that reached him from time to time were simply sporting tips'-most likely of very doubtful value which he had received from betting-men residing in different parts of the country. O'Neill and Curran, it appeared, had both most pronounced horsey' tastes, and in pursuit of their The men of the company, with whom coloursergeant O'Neill was very popular, carried him shoulder-high to his quarters when he left the orderly-room. The captain, overjoyed at his acquittal from the serious charge against him, gave the men a sovereign to drink his health, which O'Neill supplemented with another; and when I came off guard, an exceedingly 'roughand-tumble' jollification was being held in the barrack-rooms. Whether Coghlan had received instructions to join the service in order to unearth the Fenians who were supposed to be in the army, or whether it was a speculation of his own, we were never able to discover. After a while, his name was read out in regimental orders as having been discharged at his own request, on payment of twenty pounds a statement which occasioned a great deal of tittering among his late comrades. What became of him, I cannot tell, for, though we remained a year or two in Ireland, we never again heard of our Mysterious Recruit. ROSE-CULTURE IN THE SOUTH OF FROM A SOUTHERN CORRESPONDENT. WITHIN the last few years, the culture of roses for the Paris and London markets has developed with extraordinary rapidity. Hundreds of boxes are forwarded by the mail-trains every day. The buds are picked just as they are breaking, and hundred and upwards. The packing is a work carefully packed in small boxes holding one of art. Generally, cotton-wool is placed between each layer of buds; but in one case we know of, the sender envelops each bud separately in silver-paper. The forwarding season commences in November. The trees having been pruned in August or early in September, before the usual rains have fallen, burst out into prolific bearing early in November, and continue until March. The culture of roses in the south of France has in many instances taken the place of the vines that have perished from disease. There is, however, so much trouble and nicety of arrangement required, that only the more intelligent of the cultivators have entered into the rose-trade. The daily picking, the selection of the buds at the right period of their development, the packing and forwarding, the formalities at the railway, are all difficulties that require skill and patience, combined with intelligence, to overcome. Perhaps the best way of explaining this industry will be to describe two properties that are engaged in it, which we visited, one being on a large scale; the other a little plot. We will describe the larger one first. It consists of ten acres devoted to roses, planted four yards between the rows, and the plants are twenty inches apart in the rows. The proprietor said that force of circumstances was the cause of this distance of four yards, there having been vines between, which are now dead from Phylloxera. If he were planting anew, one yard between the rows would suffice. The Saffranos, or tea-rose, of which there are several varieties, is almost the only rose cultivated for export, though a few of the Gloire de Dijon and La Noisette de la Marque are occasionally sent off. The cultivation is as follows: The ground is trenched thirty inches deep, and plants reared from cuttings are planted at about eighteen months old. They are left alone throughout the summer, during which, owing to the absence of rain, vegetation is almost dormant; and at the end of August or beginning of September, just before the rains come, the trees are pruned. The cuttings are all planted in the nursery. A great proportion of them seem to fail, from some cause or other. Early in November, the plants begin to bear, and the exportation commences. The old plan of cottonwool has been superseded on this property by the following method of packing: Shallow oblong boxes, ten inches long by six broad, and three inches deep, have a large sheet of white paper put in the bottom, with the ends projecting on either side. On this, layer after layer of rosebuds is placed, one on the other, until one hundred and fifty are carefully arranged. Then a layer of damp moss is put on the top, the white paper is folded over, and the top is nailed down. Three of these boxes are tied together, making about eleven pounds in weight, the specified allowance for parcels. The charge from Southern France to Paris is one shilling, the distance being about six hundred miles; and this charge is advanced very little for any place upon the continent. But on from Paris to London, for a distance of two hundred miles, the charge is over three shillings. Indeed, we ought to have said from Calais or Boulogne to London, for the French rate is the same to any part of France. The cultivation of the rose is exceedingly simple, though by no means inexpensive. First the deep trenching; secondly, a good dressing of stable-manure is required every second year; thirdly, there must be water at command, not merely water supplied by a can, but water in sufficient quantity to run in a good stream and thoroughly flood the plants. In good soil where water is available, simple cuttings are preferred; but on the higher ground, especially on the limestone, they should be grafted on the brier. Such are much hardier, and resist the drought in a surprising manner. The Con The smaller garden we visited was one managed and worked entirely by the owner. plants were about one yard apart in the rows, and some two yards between the rows. stant attention to hoeing, the strongest liquid and solid manure applied to each plant separately, were the chief features of this little plot. The owner sold his rosebuds on the spot to an expéditeur or forwarder, the price from November to March being one halfpenny per bud, by contract for the season. The wholesale price in Paris and London during November is generally from sevenpence to a shilling per dozen buds. We have stated enough to show that there are over two thousand plants to the acre. As we write, many of these plants have fully thirty buds, and you may cut and come again. Now, as the price to the larger owner per bud ranges from one halfpenny to twopence-halfpenny, the returns must be handsome indeed. No doubt the outlay is great; but the master was outside directing, and the mistress was inside working with four other packers. We do not feel justified in publishing the returns the owner voluntarily gave us; suffice it to say they amount to something more than we ever heard of as the results of any crop. The smaller owner gave one shilling and threepence per plant as the probable return to him; but it must be remembered that he sells at home, and never gets beyond one halfpenny per bud. The fear now is that too many are going into the trade, and that the market will be overstocked: but at any rate, those who began a few years ag have made some very good hay while the sun has very brightly shone for them. THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. A CHILD lay dying; but still her brow was clear. Sad faces drooped around; but on her own No shadow darkened. Was the end unknown To her young heart? And struck with sudden fear Lest death should take her by surprise- My dear, Her mother whispered, thou wilt soon be gone; But oh, my lamb will not be left alone: Thou art in death's dark vale; but He is near." The child looked wondering in her mother's face. Love, thou didst light death's valley for that child; And to the child-like soul that trusts thy grace, Thus wilt thou come when death's dark shadows fall' P. W. L Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Pater noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGE All Rights Reserved. POPULAR LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART Fifth Series ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832 TO CHINA IN HALF AN HOUR. In attempting a chatty description of a voyage to China made by the writer, by steamer from London, a difficulty befalls him at the outset; for it is impossible to adequately describe the 'all-gone' sensation that pervades your bosom as the steamer is hauled out of dock and you feel yourself slowly receding from familiar faces, which you are not to see again, perhaps, for many years-perhaps never; still within speaking distance, almost within reach of hands that have given yours the final grip, and yet, as you know and feel, fairly on your voyage to the other side of the globe. This is a trying moment, and we will not dwell on it, but wave our handkerchief for the last time, light a cigar, and try to pretend it is no more than an every-day occur rence. The chops' of the Channel have been so often made the subject of description and vilification, that we need not enlarge upon them here. Having coasted round France and the Spanish Peninsula, we enter the Mediterranean at Gibraltar, and here experience our first spell of 'weather,' the sea being very rough and the vessel rolling heavily. The much-dreaded Bay of Biscay had disappointed us by being as calm as a millpond, save for the inevitable swell from the mighty Atlantic, which, however, was very gentle; but we now find almost a raging sea, the consequence of a high wind, whereby we are greatly distressed in mind-and stomach. Gibraltar is our first sight,' and we are determined not to miss it; so we manfully fix ourselves in odd corners where there is something to cling to, and where the wash of the seawhich sweeps the lower deck every minutecannot carry us away, and prepare to have a good look at the famous Rock. It is indeed a rare sight and worth a drenching to witness, if you are lucky enough to pass it by daylight. Towering fourteen hundred feet above the sealevel, bold and abrupt in its outline, its formidable rows of teeth-British guns-menacing the PRICE 1d. passing vessel in a most unmistakable manner, the Rock of Gibraltar leaves a more vivid and lasting impression on the beholder's mind than any of the other sights throughout the long voyage. The passage or strait is entirely commanded by the artillery, which can be relied on to attack successfully any vessel passing through, a fact which has given to this fortress its familiar name, 'the key of the Mediterranean.' We continue our course down the Mediterranean, signal Malta as we pass, and in due time arrive at our next point, Alexandria, where we are to go ashore for the first time. 'Going ashore' involves disrobing yourself of the old garments you are wearing aboard ship, and a careful get-up in raiment proper to the occasion; so you retire in good time to the semi-privacy of your so-called stateroom-the name by which the steward dignifies the few cubic feet of space you are sharing with another passenger-preparatory to coming out in the most un-European guise your wardrobe permits of. For, while you are somewhat in the dark as to what you ought to put on, your ideas are quite fixed as to what you ought not-namely, the clothes you have been wearing at home. So it occurs that the result of the elaborate care bestowed by our passengers on this their first go-ashore toilet is generally striking, if not altogether satisfactory; and it is noticeable that the outfit most in favour usually includes a straw hat with a pugaree round it-the distinguishing badge of the foreign tourist, and, as we presently discover, worn by no one else. Having more or less successfully contended with the difficulties of dressing in a space occupied by two human beings, but only about half big enough for one, we are ready to take our places in the little boat that waits at the foot of the gangway in charge of the dragoman we have engaged to conduct us through the interesting city it is now our privilege to visit. And truly, Alexandria is, or was, worth going all the way to see. Its crowded harbour; its busy, thronged streets; its magnificent square since looted and destroyed by the rebels in the late disturbances-its markets, villas, and gardens; its Cleopatra's Needles, of which there are still several dotted about, apparently to be had for the fetching; its bright, continental appearance, toned down, however, and modified by the unmistakable signs of antiquity which strike the observation and impress the mind of the beholder at all points; its strangely garbed inhabitants; its camels and donkeys, and-its dust: these all render Alexandria worthy of a longer visit than that afforded by a mere stay of a few hours; but we must make the best use of our eyes as our conveyance rolls along the dusty streets, and be grateful for a glance at people and things we would fain linger over. Pompey's Pillar, the Catacombs, and the Viceroy's Palace Garden duly visited, we make a purchase of green figs, dates, and other indigestibles at one of the shops, and then make the best of our way down to the boat that is waiting to convey us back to our steamer, whose whistle warns us she is going to make a move, and that we had better get aboard, if we don't want to be left behind in Egypt. Our destination being China, we obey the summons; and are not sorry to be out of the unfamiliar bustle of a strange city, with its throng of backsheesh-yelling beggars the pest of all these places-and once more to set foot on the deck that we have now learned to look upon as home, and from which point of vantage we can take a parting look at scenes which will soon become only a memory of the past. About a day's steam from Alexandria brings us to the mouth of the Suez Canal at Port Said, where we are to make another call. The steamer is moored alongside and tied fast, and two bridges or gangways of planks are set up from the wharf over the vessel's side and giving access to the ship's bunkers. Along the whole length of the said gangways is a line of dusky figures, each bending under a heavy load, contained in a kind of basket borne on the shoulders, the procession going at a dog-trot up one plank into the ship, and returning down the other. Your first bewilderment overcome, the clouds of black dust which assail your eyes and nose help you to realise the actual state of things: the vessel is taking in coal; and the dusky figures referred to are fetching it from a shed at the back of the wharf, each tipping his hundredweight or so into the bunker as he arrives there, and then filing off behind his comrades to fetch another load. There is no waste of time here; moments are precious in the trip of a steamer anxious to make a good passage; and the coolies-for such is the generic appellation of these hewers of wood and drawers of water-are kept to their work, not certainly by the slave-driver's whip, but by some other means apparently as efficient, for they go at a positive run with their tremendous loads, and are soon panting and perspiring in the most distressing manner. Let us look a little closer at them, for the sight of such creatures is a novel one to people fresh from a country where the working-man lives like a human being, has a vote, and goes to franchise demonstrations. The sight, though painful, is full of interest for us. There they go, close behind one another, 'working like niggers' as they are, black as the coal they carry, almost naked from head to foot, perspiration literally dripping from chin and elbows, panting, breathless as driven beasts, utterly undistinguishable one from another, except where a streak of gray hair betokens a wearer grown old in the service and only able to carry half a load, all clothed in the same livery-coal-dust, and every one straining himself to the uttermost to fulfil his toilsome task. These, then, are the miserable creatures whose bread is earned, literally and truly, by the sweat of their brows, and without whose aid the multifarious manufactures and products of England and the continent could never find their way to the distant markets of the Far East. The Suez Canal is disappointing. Having read that nineteen million pounds sterling was sunk in making it, one expects to see something imposing, if not picturesque, for the money. Nothing of the kind. It is only a cutting through the sand, without embankment, except a little bit at one end, which is said to have cost an amount of money quite disproportionate to its utility. Although represented as almost a straight line on the maps, the canal is very sinuous throughout a part of its length; and as one cannot see round the corners, this gives a very singular effect to the spectator from the deck of a vessel going through. The banks are for the most part low, and a long stretch of desert is visible, so we have sand in front, sand behind, sand all around, and in fact seem to be sailing through sand on a veritable ship of the desert, and can hardly realise at times that we are on a sea-voyage. The view is monotony itself; and as progress through the canal is necessarily very slow, this part of the journey is wearisome in the extreme, and the two or three days our vessel takes in performing it hang very heavily on our hands. To make matters worse, we suffer from one of the plagues of Egypt, flies, which pestiferous insects invade the vessel from stem to stern. We likewise experience our first mosquito, which makes us, as Mark Twain says, 'think over a few bad words we heard in our youth.' At last we are past Suez and running down the gulf; the Red Sea entered upon, and our sight-seeing at an end for a time. We begin to feel once more that we are fairly booked for a distant land, and settle down as comfortably as possible for the rest of the voyage. We now, one and all, consider ourselves old travellers; our conversation is seasoned (or tainted) with such bits of seafaring slang as we have been able to pick up, and our nearest friends would hardly know us in the disguises we think it the right thing to assume in the way of clothing. The heat is becoming demonstrative, and we even talk of sleeping on deck, or in hammocks out of doors. Sun-hats and helmets are brought out, and they are needed too, for although the upper deck is protected by an awning, it is unsafe to be abroad without a sufficient head-covering. They tell us this is the hottest part of the voyag and we hope it is. We do not call at Aden, our steamer having taken enough coal on board at Port Said to last as far as the next port of call, Singapore. Indeed, Chambers's Journal, TO CHINA IN HALF AN HOUR. for a week or two we might as well be in a coal-ship, for the fuel is piled on the deck each side of the engine-house, and of course the ship is in consequence plentifully besprinkled with dust from one end to the other. In the words of Tom Hood's mariner: Our ship, says he, This is necessitated by the length of the trip; and the marvel is that enough can be stowed away in a vessel already overfull of merchandise, to last out the run. 435 the steward is ever going to put the lights out and send those people off to bed. At last we are all in our bunks, inhaling carbonic acid gas by the quart-for the sleeping berths are most confined, unwholesome cribs and shall presently fall asleep to the lullaby of the mighty propeller, whose throb-throb sends us 'off' now as effectually as it formerly kept us awake. Occasionally, perhaps, we sail into a shower of rain, which we can see for some time before we reach it; and its concomitant of cool air amply compensates for the attendant inconveniences. By the way, when it rains in the tropics, it pours. The nights are almost as hot as the day, yet we are afraid of sleeping out of doors because of the heavy dew. Tried it one night, however, trusting to the awning to protect us; but in the darkness we ran into one of the aforesaid showers of rain, and the sleep of the just was rudely disturbed. Why we should subsequently have attempted to arrange ourselves on and underneath the saloon table that night, instead of going to bed decently and comfortably, no one seemed to know; but when Briton's sons are abroad, their behaviour is at times eccentric. Through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, the immense Indian Ocean is now before us; and our life is of the most uneventful description. Days expand into weeks with scarcely anything to break the monotony, and the pages of one's diary are beautifully clean. If a steamer passes near enough for us to read her name or distinguish the captain on the bridge, it marks an epoch in the profitless days and nights we are now frittering away. If a whale bumps against our keel-as whales will do and makes us think we are discovering a new If we were not, one and all, as ignorant as world, that causes a sensation for which we are people usually are about astronomy, the appeardevoutly thankful. We start a paper-the Ocean ance of the new sky overhead would interest us Times, of course-and its one solitary issue is more than it does; as it is, we are limited to almost learned by heart; but somehow, nobody showing one another the splendid Southern Cross, has energy enough to get up a second number. which shines in these latitudes, and is conspiOf course the company has long been divided cuous, even to an ordinary observer, among all into cliques, which have all quarrelled with one the other constellations of the star-spangled another about everything, and even that diver-heavens. sion is at an end. We are as limp, aimless, miserable an aggregation of human beings as one would wish to see: shut up together in the same house, as it were, yet withal thoroughly tired of each other's society. Deck-quoits, as an outdoor amusement, is languidly indulged in, and consists of trying to throw a ring made of a rope's end into a bucket, generally for a wager. This results in the discovery that the mouth of a bucket is not so large at a distance of ten feet as it is close to; and the issue of each bout is chiefly remarkable from the number of quoits that are strewed about the deck and their amazing distance from the goal. A few of the most athletic among us even attempt to climb a rope; but that is soon voted a bore. It may be our imagination, but the moon and stars seem larger than we are accustomed to see them; still, we are prepared for anything now in the way of strange sights, and are vain enough to conceal our ignorance under a show of indifference. The course taken by our steamer precludes her calling at Ceylon, and we are deprived, to our disappointment, of sniffing the spicy breezes' that are said to blow there. Our next sight of land, in fact, is Acheen Point, island of Sumatra; and we presently find ourselves running down the Malacca Straits, where there is plenty to feast the eyes upon after their long fast. In due time Singapore is reached, and our steamer gaily sails up alongside the Tanjong Pagar Wharf about breakfast-time of one of the hottest days on record. We go ashore, of course; and many a strange spectacle greets us, and many a strange experience is ours as we make our way on foot, or preferably in the small carriages they call gharries, up the hot, dusty, three-mile road that leads from the quay to the settlement. And thus the time crawls by. A cup of tea and a biscuit brought into your cabin at six o'clock in the morning by the steward, then a walk on deck, with no particular garments on, till the bell advises you to dress for breakfast. After breakfast, a smoke, lounge, and 'snooze' Time and tide and steamboats wait for no till tiffin or lunch-time. Tiffin over, another man; and after one night in the harbour of smoke, lounge, and snooze, till dinner, the one Singapore-which is about enough, for the mosevent of the day, claims your attention at six quitoes are terrible-we bid adieu to the land of o'clock. Dinner finished, a sense of rest-and the exotic and palm tree, and proceed on our indigestion takes possession of the traveller's course northward up the China Sea to our ultisoul; and as he lights the post-prandial pipe of mate destination. In exchange for the passengers peace, he gazes upwards at the great blinking we left behind us at Singapore, our steamer has stars with a look of pious gratitude. Night fairly set in, the passengers one by one disappear into their cabins; some to reappear in pyjamas-the no-particular garments' of the early morn-in which they loom about the deck for coolness' sake; and some to lie awake listening to the tattle of others in the saloon, and wondering if taken on board some hundreds of Chinese, who swarm the lower deck during the day, and at night are carefully secured under hatches in one of the upper holds. Beyond a spasm of seasickness experienced by some of our company, and doubly disgusting to them because unexpected at the end of long voyage, there is nothing to |