LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1387, 26 July 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

STRANGE MISADVENTURE. ["Chambers' Journal."J I have only two companions—the one a good natured-looking, middle-aged gentleman with a mild benevolent expression, strangely at variance with the nervous rest lessness of his eyes ; the other a grim taciturn man, who has been absorbed in his paper ever since the traia left Edinburgh en route for the South. They had got in together, and were evidently travelling companions Rather a queerly assorted couple ; for from their dress and general appearance could be no doubt but that their stations in life were widely apart. What could they be ? Master and servant ? Evidently not ; for the humbler of the two seemed to have control of all their travelling arrangements. A detective and his prisoner? I think not; for the one looks too much at ease to have a troubled conscience; and the other, though evidently in command, treats his companion with more deference than is compatible with the conscious power of a captor. My speculations on this point have filled up a gap in the journey. Having read all the war telegrams in the morning paper, which I know I will find contradicted, in the evening editions when I reach London, and having watched the telegraph wir*>s gliding up and down beside the carriage window, anon disappearing suddenly into space, only to reappear as suddenly to continue their monotonous up and-down motion, I am beginning to weary of this, and if neither of my companions volunteers a remark, I must do something to force a conversation We are past Dunbar by this time, and are fast approaching Berwick. I have been vainly trying to catch the restless eyes of my apparently more companionable companion. He is now closing them, and evidently settling down for a quiet nap. My more taciturn friend has never taken his attention off his paper; he must either be a very slow reader, or having exhausted the news, he must have fallen on the advertisements I offer him my paper. He takes it with a bow, giving me his own in exchange shire Gazette." No news to b<j got out of that after having exhausted "The Scotsman." I am soon reduced to the births, marriages, aud deaths. Much interested to know that the wife of Hugh Macdonald stonemason has presented him with a son ; also to hear that Mrs M'Queen is dead; and the nursery rhyme I sometimes hear my wife repeating to our boys occurs tame, and I mentally inquire, * How did she die?' The announcement does not, however, enlighten me on that point; though it is easy to guess, seeing that it contains the further information that she departed this life at one hundred and one years of age, and is deeply regretted. The latter assertion I fear is only a conventional fib, for I find in a paragraph announcement her death as a local centenarian, that she had great possessions, which have fallen to her nearest surviving relative, a great-grand-nephew. My friend opposite is fairly off to sleep. Quite clear that he has nothing on his conscience The other is as deep in "The Scotsman" as he was ere-while in his own paper. I can't stand this any longer. Talk I must. The " Banffshire Gazette" is published in the county town bearing the same name ; so I see my way to an opening. ' You come from Banff, I presume ? You must have been travelling all night ? No wonder our friend here is worn out.'

'We have come from Banff,' replies my friend, with no trace of the churl in his voice or manner that his appearance would lead me to expect. 'We have come from Banff; but we have not travelled all night. Our governor makes it a point never to over-fatigue any of his patients. It's part of his system; so we broke our journey at Edinburgh.' His patients! I would as soon have suspected my opposite neighbour of being a criminal as an iavalid.

' Indeed,' I say. ' Might I inquire what is his complaint ? ' My taciturn friend touches his head in a mysterious way, and I am just in time to stop a low whistle indicative of surprise, and to turn it into another ' Indeed.'

'What particular form does his—ahem—complaint take ? ' I am beginning to hope he is not violent. ' Generosity.'

' Generosity ? ' ' Yes, sir. You see he gets all sorts of schemes into his head for the relief of suffering of all kinds ; and his friends, fearing he might make ducks and drakes of his money, have put him under the care -of our governor.' ' Is he wealthy ?' 'Very.' • Are his friends quite disinterested ?' ' Well, I don't know. But at any rate they are quite right. He might fall into the hands of unprincipled people, who would help out his schemes to further their own.' * What is his latest plan ?' ' Well, sir, his last idea was, that ambitious people who had failed in their aims—such as authors whose books were roughly handled by the critics, artists whose works did not meet with the appreciation they expected, actors whose genius was not universally recognised, and such-like—were a great bore to society, and in their turn wer« inclined to shun the world ; so he prop "Bed building a retreat where all such could retire to seclusion—a kind of Agapemone, you see, sir.'

' If he had found a scanty population for his rural settlement, it would nevertheless not be for the lack of such people.' ' Just so, sir. ' • Do you consider his a hopeless case ?' • I fear so, sir. He's one of the quiet sort, you see. More violent cases are often easier to deal with. Our governor turned out a rare wild one quite cured the other day.' • What was his treatment ?'

' Letting him have his own way. It's part of our governor's system ; but it was rather risky in this case' I feel interested, and I intimate as much.

' Well, sir, Captain B had been down with the yellow fever in the West Indies, and it was such a severe attack that the doctors gave him up as a bad job, and handed him over to the black nurses to do what they could for him. They pulled him through, but with such strong doses of quinine, that before he was conva- . escent his reason was gone. His was suicidal mania—about the worst kind we hare to do with, for the patient always has his victim handy if he can only get the means. They had a rare job to get him over to England ; and when he was first put under the governor's care, he was about the worst case we had. The governor oiudied him carefully, and found that letting him have his own way was the only thing that did him any good. He was very fond of bathing ; and by-and-by, when he began to mend a little, he was allowed to go to a river near our place. Of course I always went too, and kept a pretty sharp eye on him. However, this did not suit him ; so one day he goes to the governor and says " Dr , it is not congenial to my feelings, as a gentleman, always to have that fellow with me when I take my bath; I would much prefer privacy." The governor tried to put him off ; but the contradiction had a bad effect upon him. Now one of the Q-overnor's theories is, that at a certain stage of the complaint, if you can humour patients, they have every chance of recovery • cross them, and it is gone. " Captain B he, " I know that if you pass your word to me, you will keep it like a man of honour ; so if you will give me your word aB an officer and gentleman that if I let you go alone you will return to me in an hour and report yourself, I will let you go." Captain B gave his word as required, and every day he used to do the same, always coming to give his word of honour, and returning each day to report himself, proud of being trusted. _ It was rather risky treatment for a suicidal patient, but it succeeded. He is as well now, sir, as you or I." * There was ac other case wc had, quite different' I have settled myself into a listening attitude ; but my friend has suddenly ceased. Looking up, I find my opposite neighbour has just awakened; and his attendant

having perhaps no other topic of conversation than his professional experiences, which he no doubt rightly considers an inappropriate subject to discuss before one of his charges, has relapsed to his perusal of "The Scotsman," nor do I hear another word from him till he bids me good-day at York. • Grantham, Grantham !' I have been following the example of tha generous lunatic, and taking a nap which almost deserves the name of a sleep. I awake to the glorious conviction that I am nearing my journey's end, and have unconsciously got over about one hundred miles of loneliness. I have still some hours before me yet, however, and seem doomed to perform that part of the journey solus. What shall Ido to fill up the time ? Happy thought! Smoke I But this is not a smoking cornpskrtment, and by-law No. 7 says ' that any person smoking in any carriage other than a smoking carriace shall be liable to penalty not exceeding forty shillings.' Bother by-law No. 71 I call the guard. The first class smoking compartment is full. Well, what's to be done ? A small business transaction between the guard and myself; beginning with my hand in my pocket and ending with his in his ; and he suggests that as I am all alone and by his favour likely to be so, I may as well Bmoke where I am. I light up amidst evident preparations for a start, and am quietly settling down to the enjoyment of my cigar when the door hurriedly opens and I have a companion—a man about my own height and age, altogether not very unlike me. (I am of that mediocre mould in which nature has formed so many of my fellowcreatures.) (To hfi wntinufid.)