poses. If so, it is to be feared that he will soon find out his mistake. Had the Ottoman administration, and had Turks in high offices, neither cheated nor allowed foreign contractors to do so, their army might, in the last twenty years, have been so improved as to hold its own with almost any troops of like numbers. But as it is, I should be sorry to back them in a campaign against their old enemy Russia, even if they had the advantage in numbers of two to one. THE PENALTIES OF PRINCEHOOD. field; their cooks wear the blue ribbon of the kitchen; their cellars are filled with the vintages of Johannisberg and Clos Vougeot; they are free to wear fur collars and boots of fearful and wonderful make; but they are never called upon to do any thing, or, if called upon, answer not at all, except by hanging out the oriflamme of their ancestors, and chanting non possumus. Their money is carefully invested, and they take especial care not to part with it. Their estates are skilfully spread over Europe, so that the wind of revolution, let it blow never so fiercely, cannot, unless it blow from all the four quarters at once, imperil their princely argosies. Their I HAVE no sympathy with the German phantom crowns and coronets press with gentleman who, in the roaring song which no crushing weight upon their Imperial, was so great a favourite with the late Mr. Royal, Exalted, or Transparent brows. Thackeray, proclaimed his inability to de- They are comparatively free from special cide between the advantages enjoyed by correspondents, from interviewers and the Pope and the Sultan in their respective paragraphists. They may eat, drink, and modes of life. The Pope may be permitted sleep, and know neither pain nor worry. to drink the best of wine; but, at the age Illustrated newspapers may depict them, at which the majority of the successors of now and then; but this outrage is mild Peter take charge of his keys, any very and not unpleasant, compared with those great indulgence in "regal Montepul- which a real Personage is compelled to ciano" and Lachryma Christi is apt to endure. A genuine Personage is never cut short the papal reign. And what is allowed to feel that his time is his own. the use of being a Sultan, when one is A Royal Altitude may, perhaps, be as like liable, on any fine morning, to be bundled other men as it is in the nature of Altitudes out of the Sublime Porte, bag and bag- to be, but he is never permitted to do as gage, with fifty-three boats full of ladies to he likes. He may feel that the duties of take care of, and no hope or help left in laying foundation - stones, turning first this life? The eclectic Teuton suggested a turfs, opening the wings of hospitals, compromise, and proposed to pass half of presiding at Masonic festivals, and rehis life as Pope and half as Sultan-viewing troops, may have become burdenchange and change about-a project which some; and he may sigh for fresh woods speaks well for the Teutonic constitution; and pastures new-for those of India, but, to the majority of people, one life is for instance; but no sooner is his troublesome enough and to spare. My desire made known, than his holiday is own mind is quite made up. I have wit-pounced upon as an "occasion" by the nessed court ceremonies, until Stars and Garters-saving only that at Richmond -pall upon my taste, and the post of Lord Chamberlain appears fraught with agony and despair. Putting Pope and Sultan out of the question, I am certain that I should not like to be a Personage-I mean a real Personage. A pleasant time is spent, no doubt, by Retired Royalties and Luminous Transparencies. They enjoy the privileges of rank without its troubles. They are enormously rich, and may require whole fleets of ironclads to carry their plate; they may have wonderful pictures, priceless vases, and golcondas of diamonds; but their rest is not troubled. They draw their incomes with commendable punctuality, and toil no more than the lilies of the public and their indefatigable caterers of the press. Town-talk is rife with speculation as to who is going out, as special correspondent, for the great papers; and whether the gifted beings, whose task it is to record the doings of a Personage, will be permitted to infest him, from the hour he starts on his blithesome progress, to that in which he returns home. And some disappointment is expressed, when the dreadful truth is made known, that the correspondents of every newspaper are not to be allowed to travel in the same ship with the Personage, and that his comings and goings from cabin to deck will not be duly chronicled from day to day. If one "special" be successful in attaching himself to the service of the Altitude in an official capacity, he is forthwith held up to scorn as a tuft-hunter and a toady; but is secretly envied by his rivals. While at sea, then, a Personage may deem himself secure, and enjoy that peace which is vouchsafed to every traveller who crosses the ocean, and feels a blessed freedom from letters, newspapers, and telegrams. It is only a hard-worked Personage, or a frantic striver for pence or praise, who can thoroughly appreciate the delicious sensation of rising in the morning, and knowing that the day is private property, will be free from the worry of existence, and may be spent over a book or at chess without fear of interruption. The mind doubles back on itself, as it were; the overloaded pigeon-holes of the brain are swept out, and left clear for fresh impressions. The cataract of events is for a while turned aside, and a condition approaching calm is actually experienced. But the instant the ship touches land again, all this happiness is thanks to that beneficent invention for increasing the hurry and misery of life, known as the electric telegraph-over at once. It is a theory of mine that the reason why clever people like to go to the Arctic Regions and to Equatorial Africa, is that, in those remote solitudes, they are allowed to live without being pursued by the latest telegrams. In Smith's Sound, or on the shores of Lake Nyassa, the postman, the newsman, and the telegraph-boy are fairly shaken off, and the traveller has time to think whether he is enjoying his life or not. When a Royal and Imperial, or an Imperial and Royal, Altitude leaves his future kingdom to pay a visit to his future empire, it becomes the especial care of all those who imagine themselves concerned with his tour that the journey shall be made as disagreeable as possible. A Personage is permitted to have a ship to himself, and is only too glad to retreat to its comfortable cabin; but he cannot come ashore without suffering the agonies of a reception. More than this, he cannot touch at any point without being deluged with telegrams. When he actually and officially arrives anywhere, the reception invariably takes a form difficult to explain on any rational hypothesis. Why should a Personage, at the moment he puts his foot on a pier or a railway platform, have his attention distracted from such excitement as the scene provides, by a ceremony which stops the way," and interferes with the ་ dramatic force of the situation? No one can say why it should be so, but, as a matter of fact, this ceremony is by no means to be dispensed with. For weeks before the arrival of a Personage, the municipal body of the place to be visited has been in a state of ebullition with a view to the production of a "loyal address." After grave debate, distinguished by the exhibition of much critical "acumen," as it is the fashion among certain people to call it-I never could understand why, unless, as the critic is assumed to be a judge, and a judge is a "beak," it is derived from the slang dictionary-a wonderful composition is evolved from the municipal mind. It is properly loyal, no doubt; hearty and effusive; and not unfrequently is rounded off with a sentiment, a moral reflection, or a carefully-qualified prophecy, like unto those met with in leading articles, and the technical papers signed "Podasokus," or "Fly-by-night." The form of the address having been decided on, and a "good matter" indited, it is next emblazoned on vellum, and enclosed in a box, designed specially for the occasion, and executed by that eminent firm, Messrs. Aurifex and Co., for whom it is a capital advertisement. wonder how many of these boxes and addresses are accumulated, during the hard-working lifetime of a Royal and Imperial Altitude, and what monstrous aggregate of suffering they represent! Where do they all go to? Is any Royal or Imperial palace big enough to hold them? and is there any possible use to which they can be put ? Parchment makes-so rigid economists tell us-excellent "stock" for soup-making. Are, then, these valuable compositions consigned to the "stock-pot,' and made to contribute to the sustenance of Royal and Imperial Personages? The boxes are of elaborate design, but are hardly fitted to hold cigars. Are they, perchance, handed over to the juvenile Altitudes, to play at waggons, or to construct dolls-houses withal? It is hard to say, for no human being could endure a museum of them, so strong is the family likeness between one casket and the other. Who is not familiar with the plain gold boxjust a box "and nothing more "-and the Gothic structure, like a sort of Westminster Abbey in miniature? Just of late three new elements of decoration have been introduced "in this connection"— the elephant, the tiger, and the snake; but, unhappily, the same felicitous ideas have occurred to every artistic brain, and there is therefore no escape from those interesting animals. Their positions may be varied, but the three "cards" are only shuffled and cut again. The elephant's head comes out strongly as a handle; but this notion has occurred to all the world. The tiger looks well on the top of a cover of cup or casket; but the puzzled mind of the designer has occasionally put the elephant at the top, and the tigers at the bottom-suggesting, of course, the possibility of the elephant coming through the roof, and fighting a pitched battle with the four over-weighted tigers at the corners. The snake has an easier time of it, being allowed to twine whither he listeth, as a border, as a handle, or as a stem; and is only, in the case of the sevenheaded cobra of Buddha, called upon to officiate as an umbrella. Gazing at the efforts of Indian and Anglo-Indian designers, the spectator would think that the great peninsula produced nothing but tigers, elephants, and serpents, except the camel of the Punjab, and the small fishes of Madras. All this sameness denotes woful poverty of invention, but is due, perhaps, to the depressing nature of purely ceremonial work. It is terrible to think that a great part of an exalted existence is spent in accepting these trinkets, and in expressing thanks for them. It is true that the addresses are sometimes "taken as read," and are replied to in "a few well-chosen words;" but far too often they are duly intoned, and answered by a written speech on the part of the persecuted Personage. On a recent occasion it was pleasing to observe a little deputation awaiting the arrival of a Personage, detained for a couple of hours by the indiscreet loyalty of a troublesome knot of people, who "would not take No for an answer." There was a tall, whitehaired gentleman, dressed in a very little red coat with a great deal of silver lace and a cocked hat, who had with him sundry gentlemen, some in velvet coats and calves, and others in the costume of the day embellished by a sort of blue cape, supposed to represent the gown of a "burgess." My heart bled for one patient victim in a black gown, who was encumbered with a huge silver mace, apparently of the weight of a pavior's rammer. Either the action was not consonant with the dignity of the corporation, "to which he had the honour to belong," or he was afraid of losing the mace, if he stuck it up against one of the columns of the railway station, for he clung to the unwieldy instrument with praiseworthy tenacity. He tried hard to temporise between dignity and comfort, by carrying the weighty emblem of power over his shoulder for awhile; but it hurt him, no doubt, for he shifted it to the hollow of his arm; and, at last, I detected him in the act of "effacing himself " behind a trophy of flags and flowers, and posing the-by this time-hated "bauble," head downwards, on the ground, still, however, keeping a tight grip of the other end. The reward of patient endurance was, as it is apt to be, exceedingly slight. The Personage, when he arrived, was surrounded by Royal and Imperial Altitudes and Serene Transparencies, till the gentleman in silver lace almost despaired of a chance of letting off his address, which was finally "taken as read," and the longsuffering mace-bearer was free to go home and lock up his incubus, heartily glad to get rid of it, no doubt. That was a terrible day for an Exalted Personage. He had done his duty like a man and a prince while on his Indian tour. He had gone through the same wearisome ceremonies over and over again. He had received and given presents, unheeding the ill-natured and inaccurate remarks made respecting the values given and received. He had attended banquets and balls, held chapters and levées, till "all the world wondered" how his constitution had carried him through it all; and here he was home again once more-but not in peace. Addresses were ready, municipalities marshalled, venison and turtle ordered; baronetcies and knighthoods expected here and there, C.S.I.'s, K.C.S.I.'s, and G.C.S.I.'s to boot. There was no escape for the genial and good-natured Per sonage, who agreed to all arrangements and gave up every point, save one. He was determined that the meeting between his beautiful wife and himself should not be watched by prying eyes; but this resolution required to be skilfully carried out, for there was one "special correspondent' who had sworn a great oath that he would fly through the air, or dive under the sea, but he would see the meeting of hus band and wife, and record it in several columns of the largest possible type, to the delight of the public and his own immortal glory. He was foiled-but it was necessary that the interview, towards which 80 many Voigtländers were mentally pointed, should take place at sea, for nowhere else would it have been secure from observation. Short, however, was the time given to domestic joys, for a yacht - load of "personal friends clamoured for admittance, and ashore waited the eternal municipality and the everlasting address. There was neither pause nor rest on that day of trial. At railway stations lurked more municipalities and more addresses; streets were to be traversed by a roundabout course to make a procession; and after a scanty interval for dinner, there was the opera and the curiously-chosen Ballo in Maschera. Since then levées, banquets, and grand receptions, with more gold boxes and more addresses, till a slight attack of illness puts an end to all for a while, and a hard-working Personage is permitted the repose necessary to enable him to bear the fatigue of another campaign! No. I should not like to be a Personage. OLD MURCH'S TREASURE. A STORY IN TWO CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I. THERE was always a light burning in old Murch's window. You could tell it by that. It was the only light burning in Midgeford after ten o'clock, by which time the little village inn, the Barley Mow, had closed for the night. And it was wonderful from what a long distance you could see that light; from all parts of the upper down; even right away from Faircombe. I know it was often a beacon to me, especially when I was new to the country, when I first undertook the office of assistant to Mr. Martin Bligh, of Downborough, general practitioner, and when the care of his patients took or kept me out late on dark wintry nights. Yet Midgeford really lay very low: a small congregation of thatched, mudwalled cottages, built in a hollow of the down, where the chalk that abounded thereabout failed somehow, giving place to wet, sticky, cloggy clay. It was always muddy and moist in Midgeford; the little river Spill, a tributary of the Swash, serpentining freely among the buildings, and oftentimes overflowing its banks, underand saturating cottage floors. In revenge, mining walls, submerging the highway, perhaps, the inhabitants made the stream available as a sewer; thereby inflicting grave injury upon themselves, however; for where could they draw water to drink, or for washing, or culinary purposes, but from this same Spill? No wonder there was suffering from typhoid fever in Midgeford, with now and then visitations of ague and cholera. It was, in a certain sense, one of the worst places I had to visit in the course of my professional rounds. We had numerous patients there, of course; medicine was always in request at Midge ford; but the sufferers were usually as poor as they were sick. It was a dirty, wretched, neglected place, lying between two large estates. Lord Rockston's property hemmed it in on one side, and Squire Hillington's land on the other. To those large proprietors and local magnates it was a sort of neutral territory, divided among many very small freeholders, who were never worth considering much, except when a county election was in prospect or progress. Old Murch owned the general shop-the one shop of the village. Murch and Vidler, so ran the inscription over the door. But there was no Vidler in Midgeford; there had not been for many a long year. he was before my time, long-and the two misers went into partnership, profiting greatly, and plundering their poorer neighbours cruelly. They bought up many little plots of freehold land that from time to time came to be for sale about Midgeford; for when once a man began to owe money to "the shop," as it was called-and sooner or later every villager was enrolled among old Murch's debtors-he was never his own man again; he could never shake himself free of trouble and care; he was old Murch's bondman to the end of the chapter. A millstone of debt hung round his neck-a burden that grew heavier every day, just as he became from age, and weariness, and lack of proper victuals, less and less capable of sustaining it. Even if by any lucky chance or windfall he was ever able to pay off old Murch, and so get quit of him, why old Murch wouldn't be paid off; or if a debt was wiped off the slate one day, somehow it got to be written morrow; and interest was charged to a prodigious extent, and interest upon thatinterest of every compound and complex kind. Murch did not spare his customers: he merely handcuffed them at first, as it were, but by-and-by he loaded them with manacles until they dropped under the weight. Then, like men pursued by a wild beast, they rendered up first one thing and then another, to stay and conciliate their foe but for a little while. The pig from the sty, the arm-chair from the chimney-corner, the cuckoo-clock beside the door, the beds from under them, went one after the other; and such of them as owned ever so tiny a plot of freehold land, found themselves one fine day conveying the property to their pitiless creditor, Seth Murch, his heirs and assigns for ever. So it had really come about that he owned absolutely every square inch of Midgeford, or very nearly so. Old Murch was a miser, so everybody said of him. He had been scraping and hoarding up money all his life, though he had scarcely had two halfpence to rub together to begin with. He could not read or write. As a child he had been employed to scare the rooks off Squire Hillington's farm-upon it again in very plain figures on the not the present squire, nor the last squire, but the one before him. As a boy, he had followed the plough. His manhood was passed in agricultural labour; and his age, after the manner of his class, might have been spent, and his days ended, in the poorhouse. But somehow, by dint of extraordinary nipping, and screwing, and cheeseparing-though, practically, I should think, he had never pared his cheese, but had eaten it rind and all-he had contrived to save. His fellow-labourers had enough to do to keep body and soul together, doing that much very clumsily, with the help of cabbages and rusty bacon, very thin cider, or the smallest of small beer; altogether an indifferent and unappetising alimentary system. They lived, indeed, after a half-starved fashion, although they expended every farthing they earned. But Seth Murch more than three-quarters starved himself, and so contrived to put by halfpence in an old stocking. Presently he was able to lend to the more unfortunate, or to the improvident, trifling sums of money-if any sums of money could be called trifling among such very poor folk-charging a very usurious rate of interest for the accommodation. Byand-by he had stocked a small shop, helped by Vidler, who had been one of Squire Hillington's gamekeepers, and had retired from active service with a pension. Vidler was a hard-fisted, parsimonious fellow at least, so I always heard him described, for of course I never saw him, Why did he hoard so? Of what use, or benefit, or comfort was his money to him? So people inquired concerning Seth Murch; the same questions, by-the-bye, having been asked of almost every miserly person time out of mind. I suppose it was his sense of the power his money gave him that charmed him, and sharpened, more and more, his appetite for gain. Probably he liked to think of the great things he could do with his money, if he only chose. He could buy this or that; he could ride in a chariot; he could wear clothes of the best sort; he might fairly claim |