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you!' Captain Eaton darted out of the stable, and ran at the top of his speed to his bungalow, outside the kheddah, to get his rifle, in the hope of being able to shoot the elephant before it did any damage. Another moment, and the huge beast was free. As the last chain fell from its leg, the Afghan sprang forward, and seizing the animal again by the ear, shouted in stentorian | tones Kneel down! kneel down!'

With a muffled rumble, half of fear and half of rage, the elephant knelt for a moment on its hind-knees. Leaping on to its bent leg, the Afghan clambered on to its back, and in another moment was firmly seated on its shoulders, with his legs securely twisted into the chain round its neck. A moment later, Shaitán strode out of the stable into the open yard with the Afghan on its back, and with head erect, extended trunk, and fiery eyes, ready to do battle with all creation. Its first effort was to get rid of its rider. Standing in the open, with one leg uplifted, it endeavoured to shake the Afghan off. But though his turban flew one way and his knife another, and his waistband was shaken loose, the Afghan kept his seat through the grip he had of the neck-chain with his legs. The instant the elephant stopped its efforts to shake him off, the Afghan raised his driving-hook, which he had never let go, and dealt some blows on Shaitán's head. Confused and maddened, Shaitán turned round and round, squealing with rage and fear.

Meanwhile, the whole kheddah was in the utmost confusion, and the uproar tremendous. All the elephant-attendants had fled, some outside the kheddah, and others into the buildings in the yard, dragging their wives and children with them; while the rest had climbed on to the roofs of the sheds or on to the walls. The elephants tethered in the sheds, excited by Shaitan's furious bellowing, were trumpeting shrilly in response, and straining heavily at their ropes and chains. The trembling elephant-attendants, looking on from places of safety, expected every moment to see some huge tusker break loose, and what would happen then, they knew only too well-a battle-royal between it and Shaitán.

A few seconds later, Captain Eaton appeared, running from his bungalow, carrying his heavy rifle. A glance at the shattered gateway showed him he was too late; but he determined to follow the elephant and shoot it as soon as possible. Calling on a couple of his men to follow him, he set off in the direction the elephant had taken. He had no occasion to ask the way; the crowds of excited natives that he met on the road showed the sensation that Shaitán had created as he passed. As Eaton neared the town, his anxiety lest he should be too late to shoot the animal before it had done some dreadful damage, became intense. To his great relief, however, he found that it had gone through the whole length of the town without injuring any. thing or anybody. In answer to his inquiries, the natives told him that it was going at full speed as it passed, and that the Afghan was still on its back. Captain Eaton followed the elephant for several miles beyond the town, but without overtaking it. At length, he gave up the pursuit, and returned to the kheddah, where he immediately ordered several fleet elephants to be got ready, and sent them off in charge of a number of steady picked men, whom he armed with rifles, to look for the escaped elephant. He determined to follow them as soon as he had seen to the elephant that had been attacked and thrown down by Shaitán, and had restored order in the kheddah.

About two hours later, while the captain was hard at work in the kheddah, a mahout, greatly excited, rushed in, exclaiming: Sahib, Sahib! Shaitán is coming back, and that madman is still riding him.'

'Has he been caught? Is he coming with the other elephants?'

'No, Sahib; he is coming alone, and that mad fellow is still on his back; whereupon Eaton caught up his loaded rifle, which was leaning against the wall, and ran to the gate. He arrived there just as Shaitan entered the kheddah. But instead of a furious mad creature striding wildly along and trumpeting with rage, there entered a quiet, silent, subdued elephant with hanging head, limp trunk, and slow, weary step. As Eaton raised his rifle to shoot it, the Afghan shouted: 'Do not fire, Sahib. It is quiet now. I will take it to the stable and tie it up.'

Though greatly inclined to do so, Captain Eaton did not fire, but keeping at a safe distance, with his eye on it, determined to shoot it dead at the first sign of intended mischief. Guided, however, by the Afghan, the creature walked slowly and quietly to its stable, and knelt at his order. The Afghan then descended from its back and made fast its legs with the chains. Having next ordered it to rise, he walked round it several times and patted its sides, speaking encouragingly, as it shrank from him in evident terror. Then, having arranged his disordered garments, Bux Khan stepped quietly up to where Eaton stood and made his salaam.

Suddenly, with an ear-piercing trumpet, Shaitán rushed across the yard to where, tethered with two others, stood a sick elephant, quiet and listless. With one blow, Shaitán knocked it down flat on its side. It then lowered its head, to drive its tusks into the prostrate elephant; but upon being chastised by its rider the Afghan, it recoiled, and again attempted, though unsuccessfully, to shake him off. Another attempt to attack the other elephants in the shed was frustrated by the Afghan in a similar way. All at once, with head up, ears cocked, and tail stiff out behind, Shaitán turned and made straight across the yard for the great gate of the kheddah. By Captain Eaton's order, the gate had been shut, and ponderous wooden bars drawn across it. Seeing the elephant coming, the men on the top of the walls and sheds shouted, in order to try and turn it. It went straight for it, however. There was a For the last three hours, the captain had tremendous shock, a loud crash, and the next been boiling over with rage. That a strange moment Shaitan was outside the kheddah, and Afghan-insane, as he supposed-should have careering down the street into the town with come into the kheddah, released a mad elephant, Bux Khán still on its back. and ridden off with it, after endangering the lives

6

of all the people and elephants in the place, was an occurrence so extraordinary that he could scarcely find words to express his surprise and wrath. But when the same Afghan proved to be a sane man and brought the elephant back safe, quiet, and amenable to orders, his wrath changed to admiration. The man's great stature, his striking though forbidding face, his iron nerve and coolness, and the strange power he seemed to possess, impressed the Anglo-Indian greatly.

'Well, friend,' he said, as the Afghan salaamed, 'you have given us a great deal of trouble this afternoon, and put the lives of many people in danger.'

'The Sahib gave me permission to try and tame the elephant,' replied the man quietly. "That is true,' said Captain Eaton; but had I supposed for a moment that you were going to set it at liberty, I would never have given you permission. However, you seem to have been successful. Will the lesson you have given him be permanent? Will he remain quiet?' 'While I am with him, he will, Sahib.' 'Would it be safe for me to go up to him 'No, Sahib. Though he fears me, and will not attempt to attack me, it would not be so in your case. It will be dangerous for you or any one but myself to go near him for the present.'

now?'

'What brought you here to-day?' 'I came to apply for work, Sahib.' 'Well, as you have been so successful in taking the fiend out of that creature, you had better remain in charge of it till I have decided what is to be done.' So saying, Eaton turned to the jemadar, and ordered the Afghan's name to be entered on the roll of mahouts at the same rate of pay as that drawn by Shaitán's former mahout, who was given other work.

After having given various other orders and had a good look at the conquered Shaitán, the captain walked off to his bungalow. The result of his meditations that evening over the strange events of the afternoon was that next morning he wrote a long report to government, detailing what had happened, and strongly recommending that the elephant should not be shot, as ordered, but left in charge of Bux Khán, the elephanttamer. He, however, requested permission to shoot it at once, without waiting for the sanction government, in the event of its breaking out

of

again.

a science, and fires are so much more to be dreaded in our large cities and towns, owing to the ever-increasing denseness of their population, such institutions as that constructed by Mr Clarke, where cash, jewellery, plate, and valuable documents may be deposited in security, are much needed. There are, however, but few of them in this country, although in America there is scarcely a town of any importance that does not possess one.

The idea of constructing a public Safe-deposit occurred to Mr Clarke after reading accounts of the River Plate Bank frauds, and of the abstraction of deeds, and the like, in other cases; and that idea he has, it must be confessed, carried out in a thorough and practical manner. The Safe-deposit which he has constructed is situated in the basement of the block of chambers and offices called New Stone Buildings, recently erected by him in Chancery Lane; and the entrance from the street is under a handsome archway of polished red granite. The strong-rooms are approached by a broad staircase paved with white marble and mosaic, and are well guarded by massive iron gates, besides numerous attendants, whose business it is to identify persons as depositors or renters before allowing them to enter. After passing through the inner gates of the lobby, the internal, or safe, vestibule is arrived at. On the right hand is a strong-room for the deposit of plate, which will no doubt be well filled as the London season draws to a close. To the left is the strong-room for cash-boxes, which may be deposited in the evening and taken away next morning; for the convenience of customers in this department, there is a grille into the sub-manager's room from the lower external vestibule, through which the boxes may be passed and received again. On the side of the vestibule opposite the lobby are the strong-rooms, four in number, for documents and other valuables. These rooms weigh five hundred tons, with doors of two tons each, and are divided into five thousand separate iron safes, or 'integers' as they are called, none of which can be opened without both the key of the depositor and that of the custodian being used at the same time.

All the strong-rooms are lined with boilerplates, having steel plates between them, and are built on iron columns, and completely isolated from any external walls; this arrangement allowing patrols to walk around, over, or under them, so that no one can possibly approach unobserved. In connection with each of the doors there is an ingenious clockwork arrangeA NEW SAFE-DEPOSIT. ment which renders it impossible for them to Ir is seldom that a private commercial concern be opened after being locked at night until the is opened by the Lord Mayor of London, yet hour on the following morning for which the such was the case with the new Safe-deposit clockwork locks are set. On Sunday, it is constructed by Mr Thomas Clarke in Chancery arranged for one day to be passed over, so that Lane, London, which was formally opened by the doors cannot be opened until the Monday the Lord Mayor in presence of an influential morning. Thus it will be impossible for any Company on the 7th of May. Although, as the one, even those connected with the place, to Lord Mayor remarked, this is a purely busi- get into the strong-rooms during non-business ness undertaking, it is one of importance to the Community, and one in which nearly all are interested, it being a provision for securing the property of individuals, the aggregate of which forms the collective wealth of the nation. In these days, when burglary has become almost

hours.

The safes, which have been made by the Messrs Milner, are all constructed on the best known principles, every improvement in connection with safe-manufacture having been utilised by them.

OCCASIONAL NOTES.

Ample accommodation is provided for the in all questions of natural history has collected customers of the Safe-deposit in the shape authenticated instances of the appearance of the of well-furnished rooms, where depositors may woodcock in London within the last few years. examine the contents of their boxes at leisure, The bird, it seems, has been seen at Clapham, and the premises are lighted throughout with at Holloway, in St James's Park, in the Regent's electricity (with gas in reserve). Altogether, the Park, in St John's Wood, on the banks of the Chancery Lane Safe-deposit is certainly the Serpentine, in Eaton Place, in Portland Place, in best and most complete structure of its kind Kensington Park Gardens, and in Kensington in this country, no expense apparently having Gardens. It has been found in the Strand, been spared in its construction. We doubt not where it was killed by flying against a telegraphit will be well appreciated, as the want of such wire; in the Junction Road, Holloway, where a place has long been keenly felt. it was shot; at the South Kensington Museum, and in Upper Clapton, where in each case it dashed itself to death against a window; in the St John's Wood Road and upon Ludgate Hill, where it was taken up in an exhausted condition. ONE of the most recent American inventions Now, for every woodcock that is either seen or captured, there clearly must of any importance is a building material, which may possibly not only supersede bricks but also Londoners, even when loitering in the parks, be dozens that escape notice altogether; for wood and stone; for its inventors claim for it most of the qualities belonging to those sub-are not in the habit of looking out for strange stances. In America, timber is usually spoken of as 'lumber,' and this new material is called Terra-cotta Lumber. It is composed of clay and sawdust or spent tan bark well mixed together, moulded into the form of bricks, and burnt in a kiln. By this treatment the combustible portion of the mixture is destroyed, and a light and porous, but hard and durable the only living creature that could speak the language of a lost

A NEW BUILDING MATERIAL.

brick is the result. It has somewhat the appearance of a rusk. The cost of its manufacture in America is about the same as that of timber, and it has the great advantage of being absolutely fireproof. The various influences so destructive to timber, such as fire, frost, gases, acids, and age, are said not to affect the new material; and it is a bad conductor of sound, heat, and electricity. Compared with bricks or stone, it is very light, so that not only will it effect economy in labour and carriage, but also in supports, more particularly in high buildings. Terra-cotta lumber can be sawed or chiselled like timber, and holds nails well. So bad a conductor of heat is it, that a slab an inch and a half thick may be heated to a red heat on one side, while on the other side a piece of paper can lie in safety. It will on this account probably be used for roofing in hot climates. If the material is found in practice to possess the foregoing qualities, a great future is doubtless in store for it; though whether it is sufficiently durable and water-proof to be used as a building material in this country, is a question which time alone can prove. There can be no doubt, however, that for inside walls and other sheltered situations, it would answer extremely well.

WOODCOCKS IN LONDON.

'London,' says a writer in the St James's Gazette, is almost the last place in the world where we should expect to find strange and rare birds; and yet, as a matter of fact, London is still the haunt of a large number of the British ornithological fauna. To take a single instance: the woodcock is almost everywhere a rare bird. It is shy in its habits; it flies high, and it is extremely wary and suspicious; and yet it seems that for years past the woodcock has not been uncommon in London. The correspondent of a weekly journal which interests itself warınly

birds.'

We shall be glad to add to this a list of any further stray birds that our readers may at any time have noticed in the metropolis.-ED. Ch. Л.

A WAIF.

'Humboldt once saw in South America a parrot which was tribe.'-DARWIN'S Descent of Man.

SAD fate is thine, most desolate of birds,
Left lonely 'midst the strangers in the land,
Repeating still the old familiar words,
That none can understand:

Words soft with love or plaintive with regret,
Fierce battle-cries and songs dead poets sung;
The voices of a nation linger yet

Upon thy tuneless tongue.

Words that once, haply, as with trumpet-call,
Could thrill strong hearts, or draw forth prayer
through tears,

Now, in a vain, unmeaning jargon, fall
Harsh on our alien ears.

Who were they, that lost people of the past,

Whose speech has fallen to a parrot's tone,
Whose name and memory have sunk at last
To syllables unknown?

I hear thee answer, speaking evermore
That strange forgotten language of the dead,
But only dwellers on the shadowy shore
Gan tell what thou hast said.

They come not at thy call, the vanished faces,
Nor any answering voice from out Time's wrack!
Vain is thy waiting in these vacant places
For those who come not back.

Wait on, poor waif; the ways of Time are strange:
Men like a dream will pass, nor come again;
But firm, 'midst all the tides of Chance and Change,
Thy story shall remain.

D. J. B

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Pater noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGE

All Rights Reserved.

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LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART

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ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
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FRANK BUCKLAND. 'IMAGINE a short, quick-eyed little boy, with a shock-head of reddish-brown hair-not much amenable to a hairbrush-a white neckcloth tied like a piece of rope with no particular bow, and his bands sticking out under either ear as fancy pleased him-in fact, a boy utterly indifferent to personal appearance, but good-natured and eccentric, with a small museum in his sleeve or cupboard, sometimes a snake, or a pet mouse, or a guinea-pig, or even a hedgehog. A born naturalist.' This was Francis Trevelyan Buckland at Winchester, described by one of his school-fellows in a charming biography, The Life of Frank Buckland, written by his brotherin-law, Mr George C. Bompas, and recently published by Messrs Smith, Elder, & Co.

PRICE 1d.

Buckland was elected a scholar of Winchester when twelve years old; and at William of Wykeham's noble college he passed a life that probably no schoolboy had ever passed before. Having chosen the medical profession, he enthusiastically dissected every animal he could obtain for the purpose; and when the warden's mastiff died, he dissected its eyes. One day he caught an adder, removed its fangs, and the reptile lived inside the roomy waistcoat of a school-fellow for many days. At school and through life he pursued visible facts, and not abstract ideas.

His great delight was to study the habits of live animals, and to examine their structure when dead. Skulls, bones, and muscles he carried to the top of the chapel tower to bleach; and when warranted sweet, they were brought down and ranged at the foot of his bed. The bed became quite a 'lion;' master, warden, and porter often took visitors to see the strange medley of animal remains there exhibited. One of Frank's school-fellows wrote thus of his character: "His own natural disposition was one of the sweetest and gentlest. I never saw him in a passion, though he often used to get teased for his untidiness. But he always had a bright smile amidst it all, and was ready to do anything for anybody immediately afterwards.''Good-humoured, full of spirits, and uniformly amiable and obliging,' wrote another.

Frank was no exception to the rule that the child foreshadows the man. He was born at Oxford in 1826, and at four years of age began collecting specimens of natural history, and at seven commenced a journal. About 1830 a clergyman travelled from Devonshire with some very curious fossils to show Frank's father, Dr Buckland (afterwards Dean of Westminster), who was an eminent geologist. The fossils were referred to the boy of four, who, without hesitation, lisped out to the astounded visitor that they were the vertebræ of an ichthyosaurus. The dumbfounded clergyman is said to have returned home crestfallen. Frank no In 1844, Buckland entered Christ Church. He doubt inherited his love of nature from his had rooms on the ground-floor of Fell's Buildparents. In Dr Buckland's house at Christ ings; and during his college course, pursued his Church were numbers of rare geological speci- zoological and surgical studies with equal energy In the hall were cages of snakes; in and originality. The quadrangle became a the dining-room, green frogs. The stable was menagerie, containing a bear, a monkey, an eagle, a menagerie. Among such surroundings, it is and a jackal; besides marmots, guinea-pigs, not strange that Frank's tastes for natural his- squirrels, a chameleon, frogs, &c. Twice the tory and geology developed themselves rapidly; eagle got loose, and each time made its way and wherever he might be in after-life, at Win- to the chapel. On the first occasion it held chester, Oxford, Westminster, the cavalry barracks the door, attacking all who attempted to enter; at Knightsbridge, or in Albany Street where on the second, with wings outspread, it advanced he died, he had always around him a curious up the chancel while the Te Deum was being and mixed collection of animals.

mens.

sung.

At Christ Church, Lord Dufferin had started a debating club, to which Frank belonged. Besides debating, the members had to furnish essays on rather heavy subjects. Frank's first essay was on the question, Are Rooks beneficial to the Farmers or not?' After the essays usually came discussions; but Lord Dufferin with all his versatile talent could not make much of the rooks.

Many are the good tales told of Buckland and his zoological collection during his stay at Oxford. His coach' for the smalls relates how he (the coach) would sit with his legs on the sofa, to be well out of the way of the jackal. One evening he heard the animal quietly munching something under the sofa. After work was over, he remarked on this to his pupil. My poor guinea-pigs!' exclaimed Buckland; and it was discovered that no fewer than five of them had fallen victims.

In 1845, Frank left Oxford for three months, to study chemistry at Giessen, under Professor Liebig. Returning to the university, he took his degree in 1848. It was unfortunate that the natural sciences were not taught to any extent at that time in Oxford, for there is no doubt that if Buckland had found proper instruction in physiology there in his youth, he would have taken his place as one of the greatest teachers of the science. He was one of the most popular men at Christ Church; but the reality and value of his studies, industrious as they were irregular, were never quite understood by his brother undergraduates. Beneath the surface of a character which bubbled over with fun, says his biographer, there flowed a deep stream of earnest purpose. My object in studying medicine (and may God prosper it),' he wrote in his journal, is not to gain a name, money, and high practice, but to do good to my fellow-creatures and assist them in the hour of need. My object in life is to be a great high-priest of nature and a great benefactor of mankind.'

131

arm was too big for any operation; and the girl, for aught I know, still continues to carry about a fine specimen of the art of tattooing." In 1852 Mr Buckland began to put his experiences of animal life into literary form. This came about by a kind of happy accident. In 1852,' writes an old friend, 'when calling at the Deanery (Westminster), Frank asked me to go down-stairs and see his rats. I am not particularly partial to those animals; but down we went to a sort of cloister, in which probably a dozen rats were encaged: these Frank took out one by one, and described in a most interesting way the habits and peculiarities of each. Presently a large black rat bolted. "Look out! he bites!" said Frank; but the black gentleman was speedily secured by a bag being thrown over him. When I had seen all that was to be seen, I said: "Frank, just you put down on paper all that you have told me about these rats; add what you please; let me have the manuscript, and I will see whether something cannot be made out of it." Frank demurred, saying that he did not think he could write anything worth reading. After some encouragement, he promised to comply with my request; and in due time the manuscript arrived. Having touched it up a little, I took it to Mr Richard Bentley, with whom I was well acquainted, and said: "Mr Bentley, I am going to introduce a new contributor to your Miscellany; one who will strike out quite an original line." Mr Bentley was not greatly impressed by what I said, but accepted the manuscript, which appeared as an article in the Miscellany of the following August; and thus commenced the interesting series, subsequently collected and published as Curiosities of Natural History. Frank often said that the "honorarium" he received from Mr Bentley for "Rats" was the most delightful surprise he had ever had.'

In

While at St George's, he commenced a series of highly popular lectures on natural history. From Oxford, Buckland went to St George's About the same time he nearly died by poison Hospital. Of one of his patients, an old woman, taken in under his finger-nail when handling he used to tell a droll tale. She came to him a rat which had been killed by a cobra. with a cough, which she declared nothing would August 1854, he was gazetted assistant-surgeon cure but some very sweet and luscious mixture to the Second Lifeguards, and in the same which another out-patient had received. She month was elected a member of the Athenæum was given a bottleful of the mixture, but Club. In 1858, he edited a new edition of returned again and again for more. Buckland his father's Bridgewater Treatise; and the result, grew suspicious, and had his patient watched, when she was discovered selling the compound outside Chelsea Hospital in halfpenny tarts.

'Another reminiscence of St George's was connected with the practice of tattooing, which, as he used to tell, is sometimes adopted by the fair sex of the present day. Ladies who are about to have the initials of their sweethearts permanently engraved on their arms should be careful to make up their minds not to change their sweethearts unless the same initials will suit. When house-surgeon at St George's, a charming creature came to me in great distress. She said there was nothing the matter with her, but she was in great trouble because her young man had been faithless. He had persuaded her to allow his initials, with a true-lovers' knot, to be tattooed on her arm. She had quarrelled with him, and was now anxious to erase all traces of their attachment. The design on the

to use Professor Owen's words, was the best elementary book on geology and paleontology.

Frank Buckland's aim was to make science practical. To this end he rendered valuable assistance in founding the Acclimatisation Society in 1860. His connection with this Society led to his turning his attention to fish-culture, for he saw that whatever might be the result of the endeavour to introduce new animals useful for food, the multiplication of the natural foodsupply of the country was an object of equal or greater national importance. He therefore began to devote his energies to pisciculture; and this was, undoubtedly, the most important epoch of his life. Though artificial fish-culture had been practised on the continent for some years, and in China for generations, it was but little known in England; and to Frank Buckland, therefore, must be given the credit and honour of having introduced it into this country. In

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