Part 2

‘Him wounded Hannah—him wounded Hannah!’ the negroes yelled in their buzzing indignation; and at the word, they rushed forward once more with mad gesticulations, those behind pushing those in front against the weak yielding wall of Orange Grove servants, and all menacing horribly with their blood-reddened cutlasses, as they shrieked aloud frantically: ‘Kill him—kill him!’

The servants still held firm with undaunted courage, and rallied bravely round their tottering master; but the onslaught was now far too fierce for them, and one by one they were thrust back helpless by the raging mob, who nevertheless abstained so far as possible from hurting any one of them, aiming all their blows directly at the detested white man himself alone. If by chance at any moment a cutlass came down unintentionally upon the broad backs of the negro defenders, a cry arose at once from the women in the rear of ‘Doan’t hit him—doan’t hit him. Him me brudder. Colour for colour! Kill de buckra! Hallelujah!’

And all this time, Nora Dupuy looked on from behind, holding her bloodless hands clasped downward in mute agony, not so much afraid as expectant, with Aunt Clemmy and the women-servants holding her and comforting her with well-meant negro consolation, under the heavy mahogany arch of the dining-room doorway.

At last, Delgado, standing now on the topmost step, and half within the area of the piazza, aimed one terrible slashing cut at the old planter, as he stood supporting himself feebly by a piece of the woodwork, and hacked him down, a heavy mass, upon the ground before them with a wild African cry of vengeance. The poor old man fell, insensible, in a little pool of his own blood; and the Orange Grove negroes, giving way finally before the irresistible press of their overwhelming opponents, left him there alone, surrounded on every side by the frantic mob of enraged insurgents.

Nora, clasping her hands tighter than ever, and immovable as a statue, stood there still, without uttering a cry or speaking a word—as cold and white and motionless as marble.

‘Hack him to pieces!’ ‘Him doan’t dead yet!’ ‘Him only faintin’!’ ‘Burn him—burn him!’ A chorus of cries rose incoherently from the six hundred lips of the victorious negroes. And as they shouted, they mangled and mutilated the old man’s body with their blunt cutlasses in a way perfectly hideous to look at; the women especially crowding round to do their best at kicking and insulting their fallen enemy.

‘Tank de Lard—tank de Lard!’ Delgado, now drunk with blood, shouted out fiercely to his frenzied followers. ‘We done killed de ole man. Now we gwine to kill de missy!’

JEWEL AND GEM ROGUERIES.

That old saying which tells us there are ‘tricks in all trades,’ would appear from recent exposures and explanations to be almost more applicable to jewellers than to other traders; and if only one half of the misdemeanours with which they are charged be true, they deserve to be placed in the front rank of trade tricksters. There are, however, jewellers and jewellers, and although, happily, as a class they are above suspicion, yet, as our courts of justice occasionally reveal, there are also not a few black-sheep in the flock—men who do not scruple to deal in ‘doublets’ and paste, and who pass off gems and jewels as genuine, that they know to be either altogether false, or to possess some hidden flaw sufficient greatly to lessen their value. Every now and then we find in the newspapers a paragraph or longer article concerning ‘mystery gold,’ ‘forged gems,’ or ‘false jewels.’ Recent examples of this kind of news have appeared to the effect that an important discovery had been made regarding the crown of a foreign potentate, as well as the diamond necklace of a lady of rank, many of the gems in the latter article being made of paste; whilst the diadem of the king is announced to be little better than a theatrical bauble, most of the real stones having been extracted and their places filled with imitation ones. Another announcement of the kind calls attention to the fact of several imitation stones having been found in a jewelled collar hitherto supposed to be of very great value, and which had been sold by an illustrious person in ignorance of the fact.

‘What _is_ paste?’ asked a London magistrate, in the course of his examination into a charge of selling imitation stones for real ones. ‘Paste, sir,’ replied the witness, ‘means a mixture of violin glass and borax;’ from which, as we have been informed, the closest imitations of diamonds and other precious stones can be made (see ‘Artificial Jewels,’ _Chambers’s Journal_, Nov. 15, 1884). Visitors to Paris who have feasted their eyes on the made-up gems so lavishly displayed in the jewellers’ windows of the Rue de la Paix and the Palais-Royal, feel surprised when they are told that four-fifths of the glittering baubles are composed of paste, and are of little value as compared with real gems. It used to be said that most of the jewelry shown in the Palais-Royal was manufactured for use on the stage; but the actresses of to-day, unless obliged to wear paste, will, when they can afford it, adorn their persons with none but real gems. The names of several artists might easily be given who are reputed to be passing rich in diamonds and rubies, and who are possessed besides of pearls of great price. Some actresses, indeed, seem to draw audiences nowadays as much by the aid of their jewels as their talents. When a female star visits the provinces, pains are frequently taken to proclaim the number and value of her gems and jewels. Who, then, wears the paste diamonds and other imitation gems which are manufactured? To this question, an answer of rather a startling kind has more than once been given, and one of the latest may here be noted. A gentleman who was deeply involved in the pursuits of the turf requiring a considerable sum of money to pay his debts of honour, stole his wife’s jewels in order to pawn them. To his consternation, the pawnbroker refused to look at them. ‘Why?’ was feverishly asked. ‘Because they are paste.’—‘Paste! My wife’s jewels paste?’—‘Yes. I supplied her with them. The originals are in my safe; I advanced thirteen hundred pounds upon them.’ Unfortunately, the gentleman’s wife was as great a gambler as her husband, and she had been obliged to pawn her diamonds to meet her own liabilities.

The ingenuity of persons who ‘get up’ precious stones and mock-pearls for ‘the trade’ has been often commented upon and frequently censured. A London lapidary who works in the groove indicated was called upon, a few months ago, in a court of law to explain his mode of procedure. ‘I make all my imitations out of real stones,’ was his reply to the judge. On being asked to be more explicit, he said: ‘Perhaps I possess some pale stones which are of small value: these I split by the aid of my tools; then introducing a deeper tone of colour, I join them together again, having considerably increased their saleable value.’ In this manner the colours of many stones are said to be intensified, such as emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, and others. Diamonds are constantly utilised by being split, each half of a gem perhaps doing duty on a paste foundation on which it has been carefully mounted. A stone which may be of the value of ten pounds having been split at little cost, is carefully mounted, and becomes transformed into two gems, each affirmed to be worth that sum. It requires a clever expert to detect such frauds when they are cleverly executed, or to discover that the ‘fire’ imparted to certain stones that would otherwise be dull of hue and greatly deficient in sparkle, is conferred by so simple an expedient as a backing of tinfoil.

The invention of what are called ‘doublets’ in diamond-dealing can be traced back for centuries. One mode of getting up false stones has been described by Jerome Cardan, who has published in detail the method of the inventor, one Zocolino. This person’s way of working was to procure a thin flake of a very inferior and cheap example of the stone he desired to ‘improve,’ choosing those which had little colour, and might in consequence be procured at a nominal price. As a bottom for his ‘make-up’ he took a bit of crystal which he had shaped to his purpose; covering this with a transparent glue with which he had mixed the necessary colouring material, so as to be like the finest specimen of the gem he intended to forge, he carefully fixed on the flake of stone, and concealed the joining of the two so deftly by careful setting as to make purchasers fancy that his gems were not only genuine, but really finer than those of other jewellers. For a time Zocolino flourished, and was enabled by means of his cunning workmanship to deceive the cleverest lapidaries; but detection came at last, and put an end to his fraudulent practices in gem-making.

It may be mentioned as a warning to travellers that the Singhalese at Colombo are experts in such frauds, and frequently persuade persons to purchase cleverly set up doublets, or pieces of rock-crystal cut and polished. Doublets in many cases, especially when both parts are really diamonds, are somewhat difficult to detect even by men who have had great experience in the gem and jewel trades. Before leaving the diamond, we may mention another kind of fraud connected with it. Often, when these gems have been set in a cluster, it has been found on examination that at least one of the stones is made of paste, or is perhaps a doublet. A rather curious story went the round of the press some years ago, when, on the death of a lady of title, it was found that more than one-third of the family diamonds were composed of false stones. These imitations had been so beautifully executed that none but the cleverest dealers were able to detect them; while in the case of some of the stones, it was not till their specific gravity had been tested that a decision could be arrived at. It has been found on examination, we believe, that necklaces of so-called real diamonds have often contained twenty per cent. of doublets or other stones of questionable quality. Respectable dealers in jewelry maintain that it is the public who are to blame for the production of false jewels, knowing well enough that genuine gems could not be given at the prices offered for them. Retail jewellers are not seldom deceived themselves, not being, perhaps, so well versed in the technical knowledge incidental to their trade as they ought to be. Tradesmen of repute, however, are exceedingly careful in their selection of stock, no gem being offered for sale unless it is known to be genuine.

Many gems are really gems of a kind, although not the gems they are pretended to be, but in all probability are composed of pieces of quartz ‘got up’ for the market, quartz being selected as being able to stand the test of the file, which glass cannot do. There are varieties of topaz and other stones which are as hard as the diamond; and being entirely colourless, they are often cut and polished and successfully palmed off as diamonds. This colourless gem material is costly in consequence of the use to which it can be turned. Recipes for the production of imitation stones have been often given; the following is the formula for a ruby: five hundred parts of strass, twenty of glass of antimony, a half each of purple of Cassius and of gold. Strass is a specially manufactured kind of glass which has been long used in connection with the fabrication of gems; it usually contains a much larger percentage of oxide of lead than the commoner sorts of glass. Aventurine is another kind of gem glass, which is chiefly manufactured in Venice, and brings a high price. The best thing is a quartz of varying shades of colour, which is much prized. One of the scarcer varieties is known as sunstone, and is much sought after, being valuable for such purposes as have been referred to.

Attempts by chemists to produce diamonds have, commercially speaking, usually resulted in failure. The most successful of the early experiments tried in the way of diamond production was that worked out by Gannal, a Frenchman, who in the year 1828 succeeded in producing a substance that was affirmed by a practical jeweller of great repute to be a diamond; but after much controversy, the opinion came to be ultimately entertained that even Gannal had failed. Another famous Frenchman, M. Desprets, made several endeavours in the same direction with partial success; he produced matter at all events with which it was found to be possible to cut and polish the harder gems. A Monsieur de Chaud Courtois has also entered upon various experiments with a view to the production of ‘real’ diamonds, but, so far as we know, without having achieved success. Mr MacTier’s experiments at the St Rollox chemical works in Glasgow have been so recently discussed as not to require farther reference.

The so-called ‘Scottish Jewelry,’ made from cairngorms, cinnamon stone, &c., is largely manufactured in Germany, where most of the stones required are quite plentiful. It is common enough to impose the cairngorm on ignorant purchasers as Brazilian or Mexican topaz. Edinburgh lapidaries are able to prepare and mount the cairngorm and pebbles of Scotland with taste and skill. Crystals of smoky quartz are found in every part of the globe, and can be so skilfully dealt with by lapidaries and experts as to be made deeper or lighter in colour as may be demanded. Each manipulator is of course careful to preserve his particular mode of procedure secret from his fellows; and some of them are very clever in their various manipulations of Scottish stones, which can be set with fine effect in brooches, snuff-mulls, dirks, and powder-horns.

‘Mock-pearls’ are the subject of frequent discussion. The wonderful lustre and exquisite polish of the real gem of the sea have been more than once imitated with almost the power of nature. But there is a something about this beautiful and mysterious production which in the end tells against all attempts at fraud. The imitation when tested with the real gem provides one source of detection, and the brittle nature of the manufactured article is another. Another matter is that the exquisitely drilled holes which are characteristic of the pearls of the East are wanting in all imitations, the drilling in the latter case being usually clumsy and blunt-edged. The scales of a small fish known as the _bleak_ have been successfully used in the formation of false pearls; but as it requires some eighteen thousand of these fish to provide one pound-weight of the pearl-making material, it seems superfluous to say that only a very limited number of gems can be made from the scales of the bleak.

Here we pause, not having space left in which to discuss the ‘manufacture’ of cameos, or the production of that ‘mystery gold’ which two years ago afforded so much material for newspaper discussion. At the present time, when pictures and pottery, old furniture, articles of virtu of all kinds, coins, and even birds’ eggs, are forged, it is not a matter for surprise that spurious diamonds, mock-pearls, and imitations of many of our more precious gems should be foisted on the public by unscrupulous tradespeople. Nevertheless, so long as a lady can purchase for a few pounds a necklace or other adornment which, if genuine, would have cost hundreds or perhaps thousands of pounds, the imitation gem trade will continue to flourish.

A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY.

BY CHARLES GIBBON.

CHAPTER I.—THE MAJOR’S PREDICAMENT.

Even his enemies admitted that Major Dawkins was one of the kindliest-natured of men. If anybody was in a difficulty, he would take infinite pains to help him or her out of it—provided the difficulty was not financial. In that case he had all the will, but not the means to assist otherwise than with good advice; and the fact was so well known, that nobody ever thought of borrowing from him. Most of his friends were in comfortable circumstances, and therefore above the need of troubling him about pecuniary matters. But his happiness in having wealthy friends was owing to his good luck; certainly not to any careful selection on his part, for he was such a chatty, pleasant little man, so frank and easy in his ways, that he picked up acquaintances everywhere. In a train or on a steamer, he would be in five minutes conversing with his immediate fellow-passengers; in half an hour, they would be discussing subjects of personal interest; and in an hour, they would be talking and laughing together as if they had been intimate for years.

He had sympathy enough to comprehend all beings and all things. He mourned with those who were mourning; he rejoiced with those who were rejoicing. One day he would be at a funeral with visage as lugubrious as his garb; and the day following he would be at a wedding, the gayest of the gay, ready with pretty speeches for the bride, the most flattering prophecies for the bridesmaids, and the heartiest congratulations for the bridegroom on the fortune which had given him what Solomon had declared to be the greatest blessing on earth—a good wife.

The Major was perfectly sincere in his sympathetic sorrow and in his sympathetic joy; consequently, he was a favourite with both sexes, old and young, and was the confidant of all in many delicate affairs which could have been intrusted only to one who had proved himself able to keep a secret as well as to sympathise. His little foibles were overlooked, or, at most, provoked a quiet smile at his innocent faith in their invisibility. For instance, nobody ever displayed the slightest consciousness that his well-trimmed black hair and moustache were dyed, although the fact was patent to every one. On this subject the Major was peculiarly sensitive; and for years he cherished the fond delusion that even his man Hollis believed black to be the natural colour of his hair. But accident betrayed the mystery, and from that hour the master was held in bondage by the man.

Hollis had been in several good places at one time as valet, and subsequently as butler. As a matter of principle, he considered himself bound to test the quality of all the liquors in his master’s cellar and sideboard; and he had carried this principle of self-sacrifice to his employers’ interests to such a degree that he was at length glad to accept the moderate salary which Major Dawkins could afford to pay him for his services as general factotum. Of course, Hollis regarded his new position as a downfall in the world, for here he had to combine the duties of butler, valet, and footman, and there was no cellar at all! But he had a considerate master, and during their frequent stay at country-houses, Hollis’s appetites were amply satisfied, whilst he discovered various ways of securing ‘tips’ which materially added to his income. He might have been as contented as a man of his character ever could be, if it had not been for one grievance.

His master had a nice little box covered with Russian leather and supplied with a Bramah lock. The Major took this box everywhere with him; he always opened it and locked it himself and kept the key in his own pocket. It was not a jewel-case or a cash-box, for Hollis had seen it open on several occasions, and noted that its chief contents were a small green glass and a bottle of peculiar shape without any label. The principle which regulated the life of Hollis was touched: he had no doubt that the bottle contained some special liqueur—in colour it somewhat resembled yellow Chartreuse, as far as he could make out—and he felt much aggrieved that his master would allow him no opportunity of testing its quality. That it must be something very special was evident from the care with which it was guarded.

He watched and waited, and his opportunity came, as it comes to all who wait. The Major was out later than usual one night, and next morning he rose late, which caused him to be much hurried with his toilet, in order to keep an important engagement.

‘Back about three,’ he said as he hastened away.

When the door closed behind him, Hollis, as was his custom, instantly entered his master’s room.—Did his eyes deceive him? No; the key was in the lock of the little Russian leather case, for once forgotten by its keeper. The man’s eyes glistened with satisfaction, and his mouth watered in anticipation of the treat in store for him, as he removed the stopper and filled the dainty glass with the contents of the bottle. It looked nice, but he did not quite relish its faint odour. There was a suspicion of almonds and something else, which he could not liken to anything he had smelt before. Doubtless it was some Indian liqueur, good for the liver; people did drink strange stuffs as well as eat strange stuffs in foreign parts. Hollis was not the person to shrink from his duty; he had tasted almost everything in the way of wines and liqueurs, and he was bound to discover the character of this fluid. He raised the glass to his lips.

‘Good heavens! man, what are you doing?’ shouted the voice of the Major, raised in extreme alarm. ‘That is deadly poison—it is hair-dye!’

The glass dropped from the servant’s trembling hand, and he stood abashed.

The Major having discovered his oversight when only a little way from his chambers, had hastily returned, and his latchkey admitted him. Without heeding the broken glass, he angrily locked the case and put the key in his pocket. He was chagrined that in his excitement he had blurted out the carefully guarded secret of the black hair and moustaches; whilst he was relieved by the thought that he had been in time to save the man from the consequences of his folly. He was as much confused as Hollis, and his confusion lasted longer, for the worthy factotum was quick to perceive the advantage he had gained.

Instant dismissal was the penalty that the master first thought of; and the next moment he felt that he dared not inflict it. The man would talk, and in a few hours the scandal would fly up the back-stairs of every house in town. Very likely there would be a smart paragraph in the ‘Society’ journals making fun of him.

‘Dawkins dyes his hair!’ everybody would be saying. ‘Could you have believed it?’

The poor little Major shuddered at the bare thought of the ridicule which would ensue.

‘I’ll look over this, Hollis,’ he said, drawing up his stiff military collar, in order to appear more dignified and to render his words more impressive. ‘You ought to be thankful for that; but understand, if you try anything like this again, or if any hint of this morning’s business reaches my ears, you go. You understand?’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’

‘Very well. We start for Todhurst Grange to-morrow. Get my things ready to-day.’

Hollis bowed and retired without attempting explanation or apology.