H

A MAN IN FLAMES.

ERE is something which should possess an interest for Mr. Mattieu Williams. A person writes to a scientific journal to say that, on February 18, as he was out in a storm in Aberdeenshire, he found himself enveloped in a "sheet of pale flickering white light." The light seemed to proceed from every part of his clothes ; and though he turned and tried to shake off the luminosity, it still clung to his person. The flames disappeared only with the violence of the storm, having continued to invest the person for two or three minutes. The phenomenon is believed to be analogous to "St. Elmo's fire," well known to sailors in the tropics. Other correspondents have come forward with testimony to the same effect. Heather in the Scottish Highlands has been seen to exhibit flames, but I suspect the appearance should have been termed "luminosity"; and by way of showing that North Britain is not peculiar in its fiery visitations, a third writer mentions that he experienced a like visitation of luminosity near Great Yarmouth. Now, I am not in the least concerned with the scientific aspect of the matter-that phase will probably receive attention from competent authorities. What, however, does strike one very forcibly is the result, say, to a supposed witch, that would certainly have accrued some two centuries ago, had she been suspected of conniving to set some respectable person on fire. I am afraid to say how long ago it is since the statutes against witchcraft were repealed, but I think I am within the mark when I say that it is only about one hundred and fifty years since the crime of conspiring with the devil was deleted from the criminal code of the land. Imagine the splendid "case for the prosecution" which the occurrence of the luminosity in Aberdeenshire or at Yarmouth would have afforded. I suppose at least a batch of old women in the neighbourhood would have been burnt with high glee by the popular voice-headed by the parish minister-as a fit and just means of renouncing the devil and all his works. Elderly ladies of solitary habits may feel thankful that to-day they live under a dispensation which has seen fit to disbelieve in their special friendship and acquaintance with the evil one.

THE SALMON-DISEASE.

OOD news for fishers at last!-Professor Huxley has just given

us the first fruits of his investigations into the disease which for years back has caused the disciples of the gentle Izaak to bewail the fate of many a silver-coated denizen of Tweed and other rivers. The pest is a fungus-Saprolegnia by name-and a near relation of that which causes the potato-disease. We are told its normal

habitat is dead insects, and Huxley has certainly shown that it can be made to infect a dead fly from the salmon. From each diseased patch on the salmon, myriads of germs or spores pass into the water to attack other fishes, and thus the fell disorder continues to increase. Of course the only remedy is to be found in the destruction of every infected fish. The same policy of isolation pursued in the case of a small-pox patient is, in short, to be extended to the finny races; with this difference, that whilst we can isolate our human patients without necessarily killing them off, we must extinguish the piscine patients or want of "hospital accommodation." Whatever be the result of these researches, we may at least be grateful that the energies of practical biology are at length beginning to be exerted on behalf of the fishes. Fishes as a rule are the enemies of the insects; would it not be a singular revenge if the dead flies prove to be the means of afflicting the finny races with the salmon-disease?

"JUMBO" AT THE ZOO.

T is certainly by no means a common occurrence for the animals at the Zoo to become public characters-save, indeed, when a new and rare specimen, such as a gorilla, a bird-eating spider, a cannibal snake, or a manatee is the attraction. But the very ordinary African elephant, " an old familiar friend" of everybody, has lately afforded subject-matter of universal talk, and has inspired I am afraid to say how many leaders and notices in the public prints. There is decidedly more philanthropy-or shall I say national "Zoophily"?-at the root of the popular excitement, than zoological curiosity. Mr. Barnum, of New York fame, has bought "Jumbo," and across the seas he has perforce gone. Meanwhile, the bairns are breaking their hearts over the loss of the big African, who ingested their buns with the calmness and suavity proper to a great mind and body, and who bore them on his back in the matutinal and afternoon rides with such serene contempt for the weight of his load. I have seen "Jumbo" march gravely about the gardens with a load of children and their elders (chiefly of the nursemaid species) which would have filled a 'bus of respectable calibre. Despite his load, the big beast, of course, marched unconcernedly on, but with an eye-which, though small, is a twinkling orb-on the buns. Trotman's stall, near the elephant-house, used to be the resting-place where his "passengers" disembarked, and I have often wondered if the animal ever thought of the possibility of a raid on Trotman's buns. The young person in the stall would have had nothing to say in the way of practical remonstrance, I suppose, if Mr. Jumbo had cleared the decks of everything eatable some fine morning.

It is certainly no a

SYLVANUS URBAN,

THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.

W

MAY 1882.

A STORY OF THE HUÉS.

HILST people are young they fondly cherish the idea that Nature has made exceptions in their case. The bulk of humanity may be influenced by this or that, may have such and such fancies or inclinations, but their own traits are peculiar to themselves alone, like their own features. In growing older, not without regret, one learns that every man is vastly like another; that half a dozen broad characteristics shared by millions pretty well exhaust the varieties of the human type. The discovery is in some degree humiliating, but it has consolation. The ordinary mortal who grasps it becomes less shy of obtruding his views of the very rare mortals, truly exceptional, I do not speak. He knows that most people of his own character-many millions, as I have said-will look at any question from his point of view, that what interests himself will interest a large proportion of mankind. And if he be a writer, that lesson of experience much simplifies his daily task.

Were I not thoroughly satisfied of this general truth, I might hesitate to tell the story following. For there are numbers of most estimable people in my own acquaintance who will not admit themselves capable of feeling interest in a drama unlike those daily acting betwixt Belgravia and the City. They declare that mystery is an annoyance, and new thoughts are a bore. I simply disbelieve these friends, for I know that my own case is an exception, and that a tale which moves me will certainly move others. And, therefore, I confidently ask a hearing for an extraordinary narrative which reaches me from the other side of the world.

Towards the end of last dry season, a young member of the Chinese Gold Company was returning from an excursion up the river Sarawak. The executive of the association at Bau had sent a VOL. CCLII. NO. 1817.

LL

prospecting party to search for washings reported near Lindi, and this young fellow, A-chang, was named interpreter and commissariat officer of the expedition. Half Dyak by blood, he was familiar with the three languages. Whether the party found any washings I am not informed; the story begins with its return to Bau. It was near the end of the dry season, as I have remarked; a time of year when the upper reaches of the Sarawak are transformed to a chain of pools, connected by shallow foaming torrents. None but the lightest canoes find water enough to paddle, and a sampan, such as those heavy Chinamen were using, must load and unload a dozen times an hour. A couple of the crew remain aboard to pole it through the shallows, whilst the others make their way along shore, searching the jungle for produce, or following the rocky margin of the stream.

In one of these pleasant breaks, A-chang fell behind, and as the landing-place of Bau was but a few miles farther, he did not exert himself to overtake the sampan. Provided with a stout bamboo, cut in the forest, he leisurely pursued his way. One may find all sorts of nice things in a stroll through the Eastern jungle, where Nature has hidden her most precious gifts. A-chang had his Dyak mother's eyes, his Chinese father's shrewdness. As he wandered on, he probed the root of a tree seeking damar, studied a tapong for wild honey, measured a rattan with his eye, or marked the situation of an iron-wood or rubber. When some knotted tangle of bush and creepers drew him back to the water side, he looked for traces of coal and antimony, washed a handful of mud in his calabash. And here or there, noting a hollow in the rocks, smooth and waterworn, he emptied it carefully of rubbish-for in such purses diamonds are found,

Gaily the young fellow pursued his devious track hour after hour. About a mile above Tanjong there is a stretch of bank awkward to get over, for the jungle is impervious, and the boulders lie far apart, amidst an ugly rush of water. With his bamboo for a leaping-pole, A-chang swung himself from stone to stone. He had nearly reached firm ground again, when suddenly his pole sank nearly a foot into the little rock on which he planted it to spring, jammed there, and left him suspended above the water. He kept his hold, and before the tough bamboo could break, he stood upon his feet beside it.

Exploring the secret of this phenomenon with intense curiosity, he found that the staff had slipped into a hole scarcely bigger than its own thickness, at the central depression of a hollow, protected on the side down stream by a ledge of rock some inches high. The hollow, of course, was filled with mud and drift. Generations of boatmen might have passed that secret nook without perceiving it.

The edges were round and even as if wrought with a drill, by the slow grinding of pebbles arrested here in their whirling course down the flood. A-chang himself had seen what a pretty little heap of diamonds will collect in such a sheltered corner. Carefully he drew out his pole, and knelt to examine.

And as he did so, his heart leapt, he snorted in deep agitation like a buffalo. There, in the hollow end of his bamboo, was fixed a diamond, amidst sand and grit. He snatched at it with trembling fingers, and tore out a superb crystal, worn and scratched with centuries of attrition, but unmistakable as the king of gems. The Chinese gold-worker of Bau knows a diamond familiarly, since they are often discovered in the trenches, generally small, but of good water.

A-chang could not believe his eyes. He sat down abruptly, and stared at the jewel, muttering and laughing. On a sudden he heard a voice: "Most fortunate of the sons of Han, I give you joy!"

He nearly rolled off the stone. Under the forest, some few feet away, stood a tall and brawny woman, evidently Chinese, though dressed in Malay fashion. Good-looking she was in her way, with a masculine and imperious expression. A-chang stared at her quivering for a moment; then, thrusting the diamond into his mouth, he gripped his vaulting-pole and fled. Instinct led him, not knowing whither he went, to Tanjong, the miners' landing-place. Close by was his hut, removed from the main quarter. He did not stay until he reached it, and shut the door, and hid his gem in the thatch. It was the consciousness unavowed of an intent to do most perilous wrong that unnerved him. Questions might arise what course duty enjoined, but one fact was certain, that a paid servant of the Kunsi had no right to keep what he chanced to find. This principle is laid down by the articles, and it has been vindicated in a score of bloody penalties. Upon the other hand, A-chang was member of the Tien-Ti Hwuy, the great secret society of Heaven and Earth. By the terrible oaths of that brotherhood, he was bound to inform his chiefs of such a grand discovery, and they would certainly claim the diamond. A-chang knew very well that Kunsi and Hwuy would. pursue him with vengeance unimaginable in its horror if he deceived them and they found him out. He had himself borne part in the execution of hideous decrees. And a woman knew his secret! She would certainly relate what she had beheld! But as A-chang glanced furtively at the place where his diamond lay hid, he never thought seriously of giving it up. It was now his life; as well die at once as surrender it.

He made his preparations noiselessly. As soon as dusk fell he