Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, fifth series, no. 121, vol. III, April 24, 1886

‘You are sure that it was on the 24th of February that you picked it up?’

‘Quite sure,’ I replied, for I recalled that it was the birthday of Gerald and May, and the day on which I had first seen my darling.

‘Your account of the manner of finding it exactly tallies with what we know of the way in which it was lost. My father, having Mrs Bowden’s newly signed will in his possession, went to his stockbroker’s, where he heard some news about an investment in which he was interested, that affected him greatly. That evening, I received a message stating that he was at the London Hospital, and on going there, found him just recovering consciousness after an apoplectic fit. I was told that he had been brought there by a young man, who had seen him taken ill in the street.—This tends, I think, Mr Bowden, to prove the identity of this document brought by—you have not mentioned your name, sir—Langham, you say—by Mr Langham with the will we are in search of.’

‘My dear Mr Godding, nobody but yourself ever doubted that,’ cried the impatient Bowden. ‘Pray, make haste and open the will.’

‘Patience, Mr Bowden. For the sake of expectant legatees, who may have less reason to be satisfied with the provisions of the will than you expect to be, it may be well to set down every proof of its authenticity.—So, Mr Langham, I must ask you a few questions about yourself, in order to satisfy inquirers that the will has been found by a truthful and honest man.’

Thus thwarted, Mr Bowden tried to expedite the settlement of affairs by repeating my answers to Mr Godding’s questions, with critical comments.

‘Richard Langham, age twenty-four, clerk with Messrs Hamley and Green—good firm, Hamley and Green—must get them to raise your salary—took the late Mr Godding to the hospital—very Christian action—brought the packet to the hospital next day; found the patient removed, and could get no definite information about him; was told his name was Collins or Cotton—Cotton very like Godding; kept the packet unopened, that its authenticity might not be questioned if the owner was found—quite right—always best to restrain curiosity—besetting sin of youth; brought the packet here on seeing your advertisement—very sensible and honest. And now, Mr Godding, for any sake, open the will!’

The little man’s voice rose to a scream of entreaty as he uttered the last adjuration; but when the will was opened, there never were three men more surprised at its provisions than were the solicitor, Mr George Bowden, and myself.

Mr Godding looked over the will with that professional glance which takes in immediately all that is of moment in a document, avoiding the arabesques of legal phraseology, and then turning to me, asked: ‘What was your father’s name?’

I began to share Mr Bowden’s impatience. It was quite incredible that there was any necessity for stating my long-dead father’s name in order to identify me as the finder of Mrs Bowden’s will. Nevertheless, I hid my irritation, and answered quietly: ‘Richard Langham, like my own.’

‘And your mother’s maiden name?’

‘Marion Trench.’

‘Had your father any near relatives?’

‘A step-sister, Anne, about ten years older than himself.’

‘What became of her?’

‘I don’t know. About eight years ago, she married, and I have heard nothing of her since.’

‘You don’t know the name of her husband?’

‘No.’

‘Well, it was Henry Leigh Bowden.’

‘What!’ The exclamation came not from me, but from Mr Bowden, who began to suspect something sinister to his interests in the catechism I was undergoing.

‘Yes, Henry Leigh Bowden,’ repeated the lawyer. ‘The deceased Mrs Bowden, whose will you have been the means of restoring, was your aunt; and it is to you that she has left the bulk of her property.’

It was the howl of a wild beast, rather than any human cry, that came from George Bowden’s lips as he heard these words. ‘It’s a lie!’ he cried, rushing forward, and snatching the will from Mr Godding’s hands—‘a lie, a cheat, a plot, a swindle! The two of you are in league to keep me out of my rights. The will is in my favour; it must be.’

But he was wrong. There, in as plain English as the law can use, was the bequest by Mrs Bowden of all she might die possessed of to ‘her nephew, Richard Langham, son of her brother Richard Langham, who in the year 1850 married Marion Trench, and died at Lowborough in the year 1855.’ Mrs Bowden had made sure of the important dates in my father’s history, that there might be no difficulty in identifying her legatee.

Once assured that his eyes were not playing him false, Mr Bowden began to swear that the will was a forgery, of which I had been guilty in order to secure Mrs Bowden’s money for myself. In vain I protested my entire ignorance of the relationship between the dead lady and myself.

‘I don’t believe you are related; it’s all a fabrication. If you put these names in the will, of course you knew what to reply to Mr Godding’s questions.’

‘But,’ I exclaimed, ‘I couldn’t forge the impression of a seal which you had in your possession all the time.’

‘Hang the seal!’ cried the little man. ‘What’s a seal? A seal isn’t evidence. I swear that the thing’s a forgery, and I’ll contest it in every court in the kingdom.’

‘But if you do,’ interposed Mr Godding, ‘and though you should prove your case, you would not profit in the least. If this will is a forgery, we must assume that Mrs Bowden died intestate, for any disposition of her property she may have had drawn up would now, in all probability, be destroyed. In that case, all she possessed will descend to Mr Langham, as her next of kin.’

Mr Bowden glared from one to the other of us with the fiendish impotence of a caged hyena. ‘You’re both in the plot,’ he snarled; ‘but I’ll fight it out. I’ll have justice, though it should cost me my last penny; and I won’t grudge it, if only I see you both doing penal servitude before I die. I hope I shall!’ With this benevolent aspiration on his lips, Mr Bowden departed, leaving me alone with the lawyer, and too bewildered by the occurrences of the last half-hour to be elated by my sudden good fortune.

‘Do you think he will carry out his threat?’ I asked.

‘It is most unlikely. Twenty-four hours’ reflection will convince Mr Bowden how unwise it would be for him to spend his own money without the hope of getting anybody else’s. You may rely on being undisturbed in your good fortune.—And now, let me say how glad I am to make the acquaintance of the man for whose kindness to my poor father I have always felt grateful, and express my hope that I may enjoy the privilege of your friendship.’ Before my dull brain could furnish any reply to Mr Godding’s words, he spoke again: ‘By-the-bye, there is in the will, not a charge, but merely a recommendation that you should make some adequate provision for a Miss May Atherton, whom Mrs Bowden describes as her “beloved companion and adopted child.” I hope you have no objection to doing so?’

I blushed like a school-girl as I explained how I had already proposed to provide for Miss Atherton; and I think I may truthfully say that she has hitherto—and several years have passed since my aunt’s death—been satisfied with her share in Mrs Bowden’s property.

We live in the house at Hampstead, and often speak of the strange woman who dwelt there before us, and to whom we owe the comforts of our life.

‘Her heart was kinder and her conscience more acute than she would avow,’ May declares. ‘When she learned your history from me, Dick, she determined to atone to you for what your parents had suffered, and at the same time punish the Bowden family for their unscrupulous fortune-hunting. I have no doubt she found a grim pleasure in knowing, as she must have done, that her will was in your hands, ready to descend like a thunderbolt on the heirs-expectant; and I think it was this knowledge that made her so earnest in her insistence that you should not open the envelope which contained it.’

‘I think,’ adds Gerald, who, though he has lately taken a wife and a house of his own, is still emphatically one of us—‘I think the old lady must have got a great deal of satisfaction out of the anticipation of her brother-in-law’s disappointment. How she would have enjoyed being present at that interview in Godding’s office! Well, let who will grumble, we three have no cause to grieve over the contents of that wandering document—the Will of Mrs Anne Bowden.’

THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.

Near the village of Burgbrohl, on the Rhine, there is a cavity in the ground which has for a long time yielded a copious supply of carbonic acid gas. Apparatus has recently been erected close to this borehole by which the gas can be compressed to the liquid state, and one hundred and ten gallons of gas are so compressed into a pint and three-quarters of liquid every minute. Iron bottles holding about eight times that quantity are used for purposes of storage and transport.

It is reported that the Cowles Electric Smelting and Aluminium Company, whose works are at Cleveland, Ohio, have declared their ability to produce the valuable white metal known as aluminium at the price of half-a-crown a pound. If this report be true, we may look for a revolution in many branches of trade, for the metal is not alone useful as it is, but is almost more important by reason of the valuable alloys it forms with copper, &c. The Company reduce it from the ore by means of a modification of the electric furnace invented some years ago by the late Sir W. Siemens. It is probable that aluminium bronze will replace steel for many purposes where great tensile strength is required. The expense saved by substituting for steel, which has to be welded and built up coil by coil, a metal for heavy ordnance which can be simply cast and run into moulds, would be enormous.

The discovery of petroleum wells on the west coast of the Red Sea is both interesting and full of promise for a country such as Egypt, whose finances have for so long been in a deplorable condition. The yield of oil is at present but insignificant when compared with the enormous quantities which gush forth at Baku, and with the amount tapped from the American wells. But there is every indication that the yield will increase to a great deal more than two tons a day, the present output. There is little doubt that petroleum will form the fuel of the future for our steamships; and a station so near the great international highway of Suez where that fuel can be readily obtained, cannot fail to become a place of great importance. Already the oil is being used by certain ships instead of coal.

Once again has truth outrun fiction, for the camera in the hands of MM. Henry of Paris has accomplished a feat which no romance-writer would have dared to imagine. Most persons know by sight that beautiful group of stars called the Pleiades, and most people know, too, that this group attracted the attention of star-gazers in very early times. It is mentioned in the book of Job, and profane authors have also weaved many a pretty legend concerning this group of distant suns. In November last, the Messrs Henry photographed the Pleiades; and the picture showed the presence of a nebula of spiral form which no human eye had before seen. Another photograph taken in America showed the same appearance, though the largest telescopes in the Paris Observatory gave no evidence to corroborate the photographic appearances. But at the observatory of Pultova, where a gigantic instrument, possessing an object-glass thirty inches in diameter, has lately been erected, the nebula has been detected by the eye of M. Struve.

Professor Gerlach has devised a means whereby the embryo growth in a bird’s egg may be watched. The end of the egg has a round hole cut in it; and by means of a kind of putty made of gum-arabic and wool, a pane of glass is inserted in the opening. This pane consists of a small watchglass, which is further secured in its place by cementing the outside of the joint with a suitable varnish. The egg so treated is put into an incubator in the horizontal position, and it can be removed and turned up for examination when required.

A new kind of refrigerator has been devised, and is on sale in New York. The principle on which it acts is old enough, but the application of that principle is simple and interesting. An iron pipe two feet long and three and a half inches in diameter is filled with liquefied ammonia. To a stopcock at one end of this pipe is fitted a smaller pipe, which ultimately forms a coil within a cylinder about ten inches high and as many in diameter. This cylinder is made of wood and lined with hair-felt. The action of the apparatus is as follows: When the stopcock is turned on, the liquid ammonia rushes out in the form of gas, and absorbs so much heat that the temperature of surrounding bodies is immediately lowered. Any vessel placed within the coil inside the box can actually be lowered in temperature to sixty degrees of frost in a few minutes.

Mr Price Edwards’s paper on ‘The Experiments with Lighthouse Illuminants at the South Foreland,’ recently read before the Society of Arts, London, was full of interest. In these experiments, the relative advantages of electricity, gas, and oil were put to careful test, temporary lighthouses having been erected for comparative trials of each. In the result, it was shown that in clear weather each illuminant was actually more brilliant than necessary. In dull and foggy weather the electric light penetrated further into the murky atmosphere than either gas or oil. But this extra penetration—amounting to two hundred or three hundred feet—is not of any practical importance to navigation. The final conclusion of the Examining Committee was: ‘That for ordinary necessities of lighthouse illumination, mineral oil is the most suitable and economical illuminant; and that for salient headlands, important landfalls, and places where a powerful light is required, electricity offers the greatest advantages.’

It may be noted as a matter of interest in the above-mentioned trials that the electric arc-lights employed were furnished with a novel kind of carbon rods, called the Berlin core carbons, and furnished by Messrs Siemens. These rods were fully an inch and a half in diameter, and were provided with a core of plumbago, or graphite, running through the centre. They were found to burn with exceptional steadiness, a result due to the superior conducting power of the central core.

According to Mr J. C. Clifford, who lately delivered a lecture before the Balloon Society of London, the art of dentistry in America is far in advance of the practice of the Old World. The dentists there are specialists. One will devote himself to extracting teeth, another to filing them, another to making artificial teeth, and so on. The lecturer also stated that these clever dentists had found out that if necessary, they could take a tooth out, cut off the diseased end, replace it, and it would grow firm again in a few days. Transplanting was also successfully carried on.

An interesting discussion has lately arisen concerning the deterioration of pictures by exposure to light and from other causes. There seems to be no doubt that in the case of water-colour pictures this deterioration is an undeniable fact. In oil-colours, the pigments being used in greater masses, and each particle of colour being inwrapped as it were in a protecting globule of oil, there is no perceptible change except a gradual darkening, due most probably to the oil and varnish. The number of organic substances upon which light will exert a bleaching action is far greater than is commonly supposed, and pigments of organic origin should always be regarded with suspicion. Luckily for our artists, there are pigments at their disposal which are permanent in character, and these alone should be used if they wish their works to remain ‘a joy for ever’ as well as ‘things of beauty.’

It seems a great pity that the art of producing pictures in far more permanent pigments, that of drawing in pastels or coloured chalks, should have been almost lost sight of, or at least relegated to the itinerant artist who decorates our pavements with impossible landscapes. In the middle of the last century, this art flourished in France; and works by its votaries, as fresh now as the day they were executed, are much sought after. In France, a Society has been formed for the revival of pastel-work, and its influence has been felt in London, where an excellent Exhibition of Coloured Chalk Drawings has lately been opened. We may hope that these efforts will lead to a revival of a lost art, which has other advantages besides permanence to recommend it.

In framing a picture covered with glass, be it a water-colour, a photograph, or an engraving, there is one precaution which should always be adopted, but is too often neglected—the glass should fit the frame exactly, and should be cemented to the wood inside by a slip of thick paper. This should be glued all round the frame; and if done properly, will exclude all dust, dirt, and undesirable vapours. The backboards, too, should be well papered, so that the picture may rest in a dust-proof and air-tight receptacle.

Our recent annexation of Burmah has had the effect of calling attention to the manners and customs of a very interesting people. Among the latest things noted is the fact that the Burmese and their neighbours the Shans are very expert blacksmiths, although the apparatus used is of a very crude description. The bellows employed for the forge curiously suggests in its construction a double cylinder steam-engine. The cylinders are represented by two bamboo trunks four inches in diameter, and about five feet long, standing upright on the ground. At their lower ends, a tube runs from each to the charcoal fire in which the iron to be wrought is heated. Piston rods also made of bamboo, and packed with bunches of feathers, are fitted within the cylinders. These, when forced downwards, cause the compressed air to be urged to the fire through the smaller tubes. A boy perched on a high seat works the bellows by depressing each piston rod alternately. The Burmese have also a primitive method of turning out brass and bronze castings. The article to be made is first of all modelled in clay; it is then covered with a layer of beeswax of the same thickness that it is desired the finished casting to be. An outer skin of clay two inches in thickness is laid above the wax. Funnel-shaped holes at frequent intervals in this outer crust afford a passage for the molten metal; and there are also straw-holes to let out the imprisoned air. As the hot metal melts out the wax, it occupies its place, solidifies, and forms a hollow casting.

In the metropolitan police district, there occurred last year three hundred and seventy-three cases of rabies in dogs, and twenty-six deaths from hydrophobia in man. This alarming and sudden increase in a most terrible disease led to stringent police regulations. All dogs, unless led by a string, had to be muzzled, and all stray dogs were destroyed. Although this order met with great opposition from lovers of dogs, who possibly forgot that a modern wire muzzle cannot be half so distressing to its wearer as a respirator is to a human being, its wisdom is seen in a return lately issued, which shows how rabies has decreased since it was put in force. In January last, the cases of rabies had fallen to twenty-seven, and there was only one death. In February, fourteen cases only were recorded, and there were no deaths. It is reported that our government, being fully alive to the importance of M. Pasteur’s discoveries with regard to the cause and prevention of hydrophobia, has appointed a Commission of eminent pathologists and physicians to inquire into the matter and to report thereon.

Mr Shirley Hibberd’s paper on the Protection of British Wild-flowers, recently read before the Horticultural Club, London, calls attention to the possible extinction of many of our wild plants. Many of these are in great demand for political as well as horticultural purposes, and the lecturer made special mention of the modest primrose. He petitioned all those who truly love the country to abstain from purchasing wild plants from travelling hucksters, whose baskets represent the half-way house for a plant on the road to extinction. He also strongly deprecated the practice of offering prizes for wild-flowers at flower-shows, as being another cause which must help extinction.