LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1861, 10 February 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

UP THE RIVER WITH A LUNATIC. A If Dixon, Tom Giffard, and I had gone up the river camping out; we had done our second day’s work. It was early morning on the third day, glorious weather. _ I was in the boat, getting the steering lines in order; Giffard and Dixon were on the bank, talking to Dr. Kawle. As I understood it, the doctor was at the head o{ a private asylum for lunatics, He was Giffard’s friend, not mine. He had been taking a con- » Rational wh-n he happened to fall in with us just as we were sitting down to our openair breakfast ; the chance meeting led to Giffard inviting him to share our gipsy meal. He did. He was a pleasant fellow, not too old and not too young I liked him exceedingly. We talked of things in general and ef lunatics in particular. Something led to his mentioning—-I think it was speaking of the cunning of a certain class of lunatics, and the difficulty of keeping them within four walla—the fact that one of his inmates had escaped a day or two previously, and had not yet been retaken. This was the more singular, as it was tolerably certain he had not gone far, and search had been made for him in every direction. As Giffard and Dixon were saying goodbye, preparatory to getting into the boat, tbo doctor laughingly said : ‘ Should you happen to come across him, I shall consider you bound to bring him back safe and sound. He’s a man of forty-four or five, tall and bony, iron-grey hair, and has a curious habit of showing his teeth and winking his left eye. Don’t look out for a raving lunatic, for on most points he’s as right as you or I. He’s wrong in two things. Whatever you do, don’t let him lose his temper; for whenever he does, though ever so slightly, he invariably goes in for murder—he’s all but done for two keepers already. And don’t talk to him of England or Englishmen ; for if be should get upon his native land, he’ll favor you with some observations which will make you open your eyes.’ We laughed. Alf and Tom shook hands with him, and got into the boat. We promised if we should happen to meat him, we would certainly see him returned in safe custody. Alf stood up and shoved us from the shore ; wo sang out a last good-bye, and left the doctor standing on the bank. It was a beautiful morning. The river was delicious, clear as crystal. We could see the bottom, and every atone and pebble on it; just a gentle breeze, fanning the surface of the waters into a little ripple. We lit our pipes and took it easy. I am a good bit of traveller, know many lovely nooks and crannies in foreign lands ; I have lived abroad as much as at home ; but I will match the higher reaches of our Father Thames for beauty and for charm against any scenery in Europe. And on an early summer morning, after a spell of glorious weather, it is in all its prime ; the water so cool, so clear ; tho banka so green, so charming; the stately trees on either side ; the mansions seen over tho meadows, or peeping out among the trees. You may choose your Rhine, your Garda, or your Maggiore, or your golden Bay of Naples, but leave Cookham and old Father Thames to me. Presumably, wa had come for river beauties and the camping out; presumably ; but as a matter of fact, there was a young lady lived not so far ahead, a mutual friend, Lilian Travers. Separately and jointly we had a high opinion of Mias Travers, not of her beauty, but of other things us well ; and having come so far, we hoped we should not have to return until at least we had had a

»ecp at her. linlortunateiy, rUough vni knew Miss Travers, we had no acquaintance with mister—there was no missis. We had met the young lady at several dances, and such like ; but on each occasion she was under the chaporonage of old Mrs Mackenzie. Apparently Mr Travers was not a party man. But Lilian had promised to introduce us to him whenever she got a chance, and we were not unhopeful she would get that chance now. So you sea that little excursion river wards had more in it than met the eye. We went lazily on, just dipping the oars in and out; smoking, watching the smoke circling through the clear air. All thoughts of the doctor and bis parting words had gone from our minds; we talked little, and that little was of Lilian and the chances of our meeting. We had gone two or three hundred yards ; we were close to the shore ; Ah' could almost reach it by stretching out his oar. We wore dreaming and lazying, when suddenly some one stepped out from among the trees. He was close to us —not a dozen feet away. He was a tall man, rather over than under six feet. He was dressed in a dark brown suit of Oxford mixture; he had a stick in his hand, wore a billy-cock hat, and his coat was buttoned right up to his throat. He had light whiskers, a heavy drooping moustache, hair unusually long, iron-gray in color. He might be a soldier retired from his profession, or an artist out painting; he certainly looked a gentleman. We were passing on, when he raised his stick, and shouted out— ‘ Stop !’ It was a regular shout, as though we were half a mile from him. We stopped, although it was an unusual method of calling attention. ‘ Gentlemen,’ he said, still at the top of his voice, ‘ I should be obliged if you could give me a seat. I have a long way to go, and I am tired.’ We looked at him and at each other. It was a free-and-easy style of asking a favor; but he seemed a gentleman, and an elderly one too. Common politness dictated civility. ‘ I am afraid,’ said Alf, * we have hardly room ; she’s only built for three.’ ‘Oh, that dosen’t matter,’ he said; ‘you can put me anywhere, or I’ll take a oar for one of you.’ I was on the point of advising a pointblank refusal, not appreciating his off-hand manner; but Alf thought differently. ‘ All right,’ said he; “we don’t mind if you don’t. Steer her in, Jack.’ I steered her in. No sooner were we near the shore, than quite unexpectedly he stepped almost on my toes, rocking the boat from side to side. ‘ Hang it!’ I said ; take care, or you’ll have us over.’ ‘What if Ido?’ he returned; ‘it’ll only be a swim ; and who minds a swim in weather like this ?’ We stared at him ; the coolness, not to say impertinence of the remark, was amazing. Begging a seat in our boat, knowing it was full, and then telling us he didn’t care if he spilt us into the river ! He seated himself by me, setting the boat see-sawing again, crushing me into a corner, and, without asking with your leave or by your leave, took the steering lines from my hands and slipped them over his shoulders. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, making a snatch at them ; ‘ but if you’ll allow me.’ ‘Not at all,’ he said ; ‘ I always like something to do, and I expect you’ve had enough of it.’ His coolness was amusing; he was impenetrable. I know I for one regretted we were such mules as to have anything to do with him. We waited in silence a second or two. ‘ Come,’ he said, ‘ when are you going to start ?’ ‘ Perhaps,’ said Alf a bit nettled, ‘ as you’re in our boat a self-invited guest, you’ll let us choose our own time.’ The stranger said nothing; he sat stolid and silent; Tom and Alf set off rowing ; the stranger steered right across the stream. ‘ Where are you going ?’ said Alf; ‘ keep us in.’ ‘ I’m going into the shade ; the sun’s too strong.’ He had the lines; we could hardly insist on his keeping one side if he preferred the other. He took us right to the opposite bank, under the shadow of the willow trees. For some minutes neither of us spoke. With him cramming me on my seat and ramming his elbows into my side, my position was not pleasant. At last 11st him know it. ‘I don’t know if you are aware you are occupying all my seat.’ He turned on me short and sharp. All at once I noticed his left eye going up and down like a blinking owl. His mouth was wide open, disclosing as ugly a set of teeth as I should care to see. Like a flash, Dr Bawle’a words crossed my mind. Tall, strong, about forty-five, iron-grey hair ; a habit of showing his teeth and winking his left eye. Gracious powers! was it possible wo had a lunatic with us unawares ? {To he continued .)