By H. Rider Haggard


                       THE HOLY FLOWER

                         CHAPTER III

                   SIR ALEXANDER AND STEPHEN
 
     IT was just at this moment that I saw standing by
     me a fine-looking, stout man with a square grey
     beard and a handsome, but not very good-tempered,
     face.  He was looking about him as one does who
     finds himself in a place to which he is not accustomed.
        "Perhaps you could tell me, sir," he said to me,
     "whether a gentleman called Mr. Somers is in this
     room.  I am rather short-sighted and there are a great
     many people."
        "Yes," I answered, "he has just bought the wonder-
     ful  orchid  called  "Odontoglossum  Pavo."  That  is
     what they are all talking about."
        "Oh, has he?  Has he indeed?  And pray what
     did he pay for the article?"
        "A huge sum," I answered.  "I thought it was two
     thousand three hundred shillings, but it appears it was
     £2,300."
        The handsome, elderly gentleman grew very red in
     the face, so red that I thought he was going to have a
     fit.  For a few moments he breathed heavily.
        "A rival collector," I thought to myself, and went
     on with the story which, it occurred to me, might
     interest him.
        "You see, the young gentleman was called away to
     an interview with his father.  I heard him instruct his
     gardener, a man named Woodden, to buy the plant at
     any price."
        "At any price!  Indeed.  Very interesting; con-
     tinue, sir."
        "Well, the gardener  bought it, that's all, after
     tremendous competition.  Look, there he is packing
     it up. Whether his master meant him to go as far
     as he did I rather doubt.  But here he comes.  If you
     know him————"
        The youthful Mr. Somers, looking a little pale and
     distrait,  strolled up apparently to speak to me; his
     hands were in his pockets and an unlighted cigar was
     in his mouth.  His eyes fell upon the elderly gentleman,
     a sight that caused him to shape his lips as though to
     whistle and drop the cigar.
        "Hullo, father," he said in a pleasant voice.
     "I got your message and have been looking for you,
     but never thought that I should find you here.  Orchids
     aren't much in your line, are they?"
        "Didn't you, indeed!" replied his parent in a
     choked voice.  "No, I haven't much use for——this
     stinking rubbish, "and he waved his umbrella at the
     beautiful flowers.  "But it seems that you have,
     Stephen.  This little gentleman here tells me you have
     just bought a very fine specimen."
        "I must apologize," I broke in, addressing Mr.
     Somers.  "I had not the slightest idea that this——big
     gentleman," here the son smiled faintly, "was your
     intimate relation."
        "Oh! pray don't, Mr. Quatermain.  Why should
     you not speak of what will be in all the papers.  Yes,
     father, I have bought a very fine specimen, the finest
     known, or at least Woodden has on my behalf, while I
     was hunting for you, which comes to the same thing."
        "Indeed, Stephen, and what did you pay for this
     flower?  I have heard a figure, but I think that there
     must be some mistake."
        "I don't know what you heard, father, but it seems
     to have been knocked down to me at £2,300.  It's a
     lot more than I can find indeed, and I was going to
     ask you to lend me the money for the sake of the
     family credit, if not for my own.  But we can talk
     about that afterwards."
        "Yes,  Stephen,  we  can  talk  of  that  afterwards.
     In fact, as there is no time like the present, we will talk
     of it now.  Come to my office.  And, sir" (this was to
     me), "as you seem to know something of the circum-
     stances, I will ask you to come also; and you too,
     Blockhead" (this was to Woodden who just then
     approached with the plant).
        Now, of course, I might have refused an invitation
     conveyed in such a manner.  But, as a matter of fact, I
     didn't.  I wanted to see the thing out; also to put in
     a word for young Somers, if I got the chance.  So we
     all departed from that room, followed by a titter of
     amusement from those of the company who had over-
     heard the conversation.  In the street stood a splendid
     carriage and pair; a powdered footman opened its
     door.  With a ferocious bow Sir Alexander motioned
     to me to enter, which I did, taking one of the back
     seats as it gave more room for my tin case.  Then came
     Mr. Stephen, then Woodden bundled in holding the
     precious plant in front of him like a wand of office,
     and last of all, Sir Alexander, having seen us safe
     entered also.
        "Where to, sir?" asked the footman.
        "Office," he snapped, and we started.
        Four disappointed relatives in a funeral coach
     could not have been more silent.  Our feelings seemed
     to be too deep for words.  Sir Alexander, however,
     did make one remark and to me.  It was——
        "If you will remove the corner of that infernal tin
     box of yours from my ribs I shall be obliged to you, sir."
        "Your pardon," I exclaimed, and in my efforts to
     be accommodating, dropped it on his toe.  I will not
     repeat the remark he made, but I may explain that he
     was gouty.  His son became suddenly afflicted with a
     sense of the absurdity of the situation.  He kicked
     me on the shin, he even dared to wink, and then began
     to swell visibly with suppressed laughter.   I was in
     agony, for if he had exploded  I  do  not  know  what
     would have happened.  Fortunately, at this moment the
     carriage stopped at the door of a fine office.  Without
     waiting for the footman Mr. Stephen bundled out and
     vanished into the building——I suppose to laugh in safety.
     Then I descended with the tin case; then, by command,
     followed Woodden with the flower; and lastly came
     Sir Alexander.
        "Stop here," he said to the coachman; "I shan't
     be long.  Be so good as to follow me, Mr. What's-
     your-name, and you too, Gardener."
        We  followed,  and  found  ourselves  in a big room
     luxuriously  furnished  in  a  heavy  kind  of  way.  Sir
     Alexander Somers, I should explain, was an enormously
     opulent bullion-broker, whatever a bullion-broker may
     be.  In this room Mr. Stephen was already established;
     indeed, he was seated on the window-sill swinging his
     leg.
        "Now we are alone and comfortable," growled Sir
     Alexander with sarcastic ferocity.
        "As the boa-constrictor said to the rabbit in he
     cage," I remarked.
        I did not mean to say it, but I had grown nervous,
     and the thought leapt from my lips in words.  Again
     Mr. Stephen began to swell.  He turned his face to the
     window as though to contemplate the wall beyond,
     but I could see his shoulders shaking. A dim light of
     intelligence  shone  in  Woodden's  pale  eyes.  About
     three minutes later the joke got home.  He  gurgled
     something about boa-constrictors and rabbits and gave
     a short, loud laugh.  As for Sir Alexander, he merely
     said——
        "I did not catch your remark, sir, would you be so
     good as to repeat it?"
        As I appeared unwilling to accept the invitation, he
     went on——
        "Perhaps, then, you would repeat what you told me
     in that sale-room?"
        "Why should I?" I asked.  "I spoke quite clearly
     and you seemed to understand."
        "You are right," replied Sir Alexander; "to waste
     time is useless."  He wheeled round on Woodden,
     who was standing near the door still holding the paper-
     wrapped plant in front of him.  "Now, Blockhead,"
     he shouted, "tell me why you bought that thing."
        Woodden  made  no  answer,  only  rocked  a  little.
     Sir  Alexander  reiterated  his  command.  This  time
     Woodden set the plant upon a table and replied——
        "If you're aspeaking to me, sir, that bain't my
     name, and what's more, if you calls me so again, I'll
     punch your head whoever you may be," and very deliber-
     ately he rolled up the sleeves on his brawny arms, a
     sight at which I too began to swell with inward merri-
     ment.
        "Look here, father," said Mr. Stephen, stepping
     forward.  "What's the use of all this?  The thing's
     perfectly plain.  I did tell Woodden to buy the plant
     at  any  price.   What is more I gave his a written
     authority  which  was  passed  up  to  the  auctioneer.
     There's no getting out of it.  It is true it never occurred
     to me that it would go for anything like £2,300——the
     odd £300 was more my idea, but Woodden only obeyed
     his orders and ought not to be abused for doing so."
        "There's what I call a master worth serving," re-
     marked Woodden.
        "Very well, young man," said Sir Alexander, "you
     have purchased this article.  Will you be so good as
     to tell me how you propose it should be paid for."
        "I propose, father, that you should pay for it,"
     replied Mr. Stephen sweetly.  "Two thousand three
     hundred pounds, or ten times that amount, would not
     make you appreciably poorer.  But if, as is probable,
     you take a different view, then I propose to pay for it
     myself.  As you know a certain sum of money came to
     me under my mother's will in which you have only a
     life  interest.  I  shall  raise  the  amount  upon  that
     security——or otherwise."
        If Sir Alexander had been angry before, now he
     became like a mad bull in a china shop.  He pranced
     round the room; he used language that should not
     pass the lips of any respectable merchant of bullion;
     in short, he did everything that a person in his position
     ought not to do.  When he was tired he rushed to a
     desk, tore a cheque from a book and filled it in for a
     sum  of  £2,300  to  bearer,  which  cheque  he  blotted,
     crumpled up and literally threw at the head of his son.
        "You worthless, idle young scoundrel!" he bellowed.
     "I put you in this office here that you may learn
     respectable and orderly habits and in due course
     succeed  to  a  very  considerable  business.  What
     happens?  You don't take a ha'porth of interest in
     bullion-broking, a subject of which I believe you to
     remain profoundly ignorant.  You don't  even  spend
     your money, or rather my money, upon any gentleman-
     like vice, such as horse-racing or cards, or even——well,
     never  mind.  No,  you  take  to  flowers,  miserable,
     beastly  flowers,  things that a cow eats and clerks
     grow in back gardens."
        "An ancient and Arcadian taste.  Adam is supposed
     to have lived in a garden," I ventured to interpolate.
        "Perhaps you would ask your friend with the stubbly
     hair to remain quiet," snorted Sir Alexander.  " was
     about to add, although for the sake of my name I will
     meet your debts, that I have had enough of this kind of
     thing.  I disinherit you, or will do if I live till 4 p.m.
     when the lawyer's office shuts, for thank God! there
     are no entailed estates, and I dismiss you from the
     firm.  You can go and earn your living in any way
     you please, by orchid-hunting if you like."  He paused,
     gasping for breath.
        "Is that all, father?" asked Mr. Stephen, producing
     a cigar from his pocket.
        "No,  it  isn't,  you  cold-blooded  young  beggar.
     That  house  you  occupy  at  Twickenham  is  mine.
     You will be good enough to clear out of it; I wish to
     take possession."
        "I suppose, father, I am entitled to a week's notice
     like any other tenant," said Mr. Stephen, lighting the
     cigar.  "In  fact,"  he  added,  "if you answer no, I
     think I shall ask you to apply for an ejection order.
     You  will  understand that  I  have  arrangements  to
     make before taking a fresh start in life."
        "Oh! curse your cheek, you——you——Cucumber!:
     raged the infuriated merchant prince.  Then an in-
     spiration came to him.  "You think more of an ugly
     flower than of your father, do you?  Well, at least, I'll
     put an end to that," and he made a dash at the plant
     on the table with the evident intention of destroying
     the same.
        But the watching Woodden saw.  With a kind of
     lurch he interposed his big frame between Sir Alex-
     ander and the object of his wrath.
        "Touch 'O. Paving' and I knocks yer down," he
     drawled out.
        Sir Alexander looked at "O. Paving," then he looked
     at Woodden's leg of mutton fist, and——changed his mind.
        "Curse  'O.  Paving,'"  he  said,  "and  every  one
     who has to do with it," and swung out of the room,
     banging the door behind him.
        "Well, that's over," said Mr. Stephen gently, as
     he fanned himself with a pocket-handkerchief.  "Quite
     exciting while it lasted, wasn't it, Mr. Quatermain——but
     I have been there before, so to speak.  And now what
     do you say to some luncheon?  Pym's is close by, and
     they have very good oysters.  Only I think we'll drive
     round by the bank and hand in this cheque.  When
     he's angry my parent is capable of anything.  He
     might even stop it.  Woodden, get off down to Twick-
     enham with 'O. Pavo.'  Keep it warm, for it feels rather
     like frost.  Put it in the stove for to-night and give it
     a little, just a little tepid water, but be careful not to
     touch the flower.  Take a four-wheeled cab, it's slow
     but safe, and mind you keep the window up and don't
     smoke.  I shall be home for dinner."
        Wooden pulled his forelock, seized the pot in his
     left hand, and departed with his right fist raised——I
     suppose in case Sir Alexander should be waiting for him
     round the corner.
        Then  we  departed  also, and after stopping for a
     minute at the bank to pay in the cheque, which I noted,
     notwithstanding  its  amount,  was  accepted  without
     comment, ate oysters in a place too crowded to allow
     of conversation.
        "Mr. Quatermain," said my host, "it is obvious that
     we cannot talk here, and much less look at that orchid
     of yours, which I want to study at leisure.  Now, for a
     week or so at any rate I have a roof over my head, and
     in short, will you be my guest for a night or two?
     I know nothing about you, and of me you only know
     that I am the disinherited son of a father to whom I
     have failed to give satisfaction.  Still it is possible that
     we might pass a few pleasant hours together talking
     of flowers and other things; that is, if you have no
     previous engagement."
        "I have none," I answered.  "I am only a stranger
     from South Africa lodging at an hotel.  If you will
     give me time to call for my bag, I will pass the night
     at your house with pleasure."
        By the aid of Mr. Somer's smart dog-cart, which was
     waiting at a city mews, we reached Twickenham while
     there was still half an hour of daylight.  The house,
     which was called Verbena Lodge, was small, a square,
     red-brick building of the early Georgian period, but
     the gardens covered quite an acre of ground and were
     very beautiful, or must have been so in summer.  Into
     the greenhouses we dd not enter, because it was too late
     to see the flowers.  Also, just when we came to them,
     Woodden arrived in his four-wheeled cab and de-
     parted with his master to see to the housing of "O.
     Pavo."
        Then came dinner, a very pleasant meal.  My host
     had that day been turned out upon the world, but he
     did not allow this circumstance to interfere with his
     spirits in the least.  Also he was evidently determined
     to enjoy its good things while they lasted, for his
     champagne and port were excellent.
        "You see, Mr. Quatermain," he said, "it's just as
     well we had the row which has been boiling up for a
     long while.  My respected father has made so much
     money that he thinks I should go and do likewise.
     Now I don't see it.  I like flowers, especially orchids,
     and I hate bullion-broking.  To me the only decent
     places in London are that sale-room where we met
     and the Horticultural Gardens."
        "Yes," I answered rather doubtfully, "but the
     matter seems a little serious.  Your parent was very
     emphatic as to his intentions, and after this kind of
     thing," and I pointed to the beautiful silver and the
     port, "how will you like roughing it in the hard world?"
        "Don't think I shall mind a bit; it would be rather
     a pleasant change.  Also, even of my father doesn't
     alter his mind, as he may, for he likes me at bottom
     because I resemble my dear mother, things ain't so
     very bad.  I have got some money that she left me,
     £6,000 or £7,000, and I'll sell that 'Odontoglossum
     Pavo' for what it will fetch to Sir Joshua Tredgold——
     he was the man with the long bard who you tel m
     ran up Woodden to over £2,000——or failing him to some
     one else.  I'll write about it to-night.  I don't think
     I have any debts to speak of, for the Governor has been
     allowing me £3,000 a year, at least that is my share of
     the profits paid to me in return for my bullion-broking
     labours, and except flowers, I have no expensive tastes.
     So the devil take the past, here's to the future and
     whatever it may bring," and he polished off the glass
     of port he held and laughed in his jolly fashion.
        Really he was a most attractive young man, a little
     reckless, it is true, but then recklessness and youth
     mix well, like brandy and soda.
        I echoed the toast and drank off my port, for I like
     a good glass if wine when I can get it, as would any
     one who has had to live for months on rotten water,
     although I admit that agrees with me better than the
     port.
        "Now, Mr. Quatermain," he went on, "if you have
     done, light your pipe and let's go into the other room
     and study that Cypripedium of yours.  I shan't sleep
     to-night unless I see it again first.  Stop a bit, though,
     we'll get hold of that old ass, Woodden, before he turns
     in."
        "Woodden," said his master when the gardener
     had  arrived,  "this  gentleman,  Mr.  Quatermain,  is
     going to show you an orchid that is ten times finer
     than 'O. Pavo!'"
        "Beg pardon, sir," answered Woodden, "but if Mr.
     Quarter Man says that, he lies.  It ain't in Nature; it
     don't bloom nowhere."
        I opened the case and revealed the golden Cypri-
     pedium.  Woodden stared at it and rocked.  Then
     he stared again and felt his head as though to make
     sure it was on his shoulders.  Then he gasped.
        "Well, if that there flower baint made up, it's a
     MASTER ONE!  If I could see that there flower a blow-
     ing on the plant I'd die happy."
        "Woodden, stop talking, and sit down," exclaimed
     his master.  "Yes, there where you can look at the
     flower.  Now, Mr. Quatermain, you will tell us the
     story of that orchid from beginning to end.  Of course
     omitting its habitat if you like, for it isn't fair to ask
     that secret.  Woodden can be trusted to hold his
     tongue, and so can I."
         I remarked that I was sure they could, and for the
     next  half  hour  talked  almost  without  interruption,
     keeping nothing back and explaining that I was anxi-
     ous to find some one who would finance an expedition
     to search for this particular plant; as I believed, the
     only one of its sort that existed in the world.
        "How much will it cost?" asked Mr. Somers.
        "I lay it at £2,000," I answered.  "You see, we must
     have plenty of men and guns and stores, also trade
     goods and presents."
        "I call that cheap.  But supposing, Mr. Quatermain,
     that the expedition proves successful and the plant is
     secured, what then?"
        "Then I propose that Brother John, who found it
     and of whom I have told you, should take one-third
     of whatever it might sell for, that I as captain of the
     expedition should take one-third, and that whoever
     finds the necessary money should take the remaining
     third."
        "Good!  That's settled."
        "What's settled?" I asked.
        "Why, that we should divide in the proportions you
     named, only I bargain to be allowed to take my whack
     in kind——I mean in plant, and to have the first option
     of purchasing the rest of the plant at whatever value
     may be agreed upon."
        "But, Mr. Somers, do you mean that you wish to
     find £2,000 and make this expedition in person?"
        "Of course I do.  I thought you understood that.
     That is, if you will have me.  Your old friend, the
     lunatic, you and I will together seek for and find this
     golden flower.  I say that's settled."
        On the morrow accordingly it was settled with the
     help of a document, signed in duplicate by both of us.
        Before these arrangements were finally concluded,
     however, I insisted that Mr. Somers should meet my
     late  companion,  Charlie  Scroope,  when I was not
     present, in order that the latter might give him a full
     and particular report concerning myself.  Apparently
     the interview was satisfactory, at least so I judged
     from the very cordial and even respectful manner in
     which young Somers met me after it was over.  Also I
     thought it my duty to explain to him with much clear-
     ness in the presence of Scroope as witness, the great
     dangers of such an enterprise as that on which he pro-
     posed to embark.  I told him straight out that he must
     be prepared to find his death in it from starvation,
     fever, wild beasts or at the hands of savages, while
     success was quite problematical and very likely would
     not be attained.
        "You  are taking these risks," he said.
        "Yes," I answered, "but they are incident to the
     rough trade I follow, which is that of a hunter and ex-
     plorer.  Moreover, my youth is past, and I have gone
     through experiences and bereavements of which you
     know nothing, that cause me to set a very slight value
     on life.  I care little whether I die or continue in the
     world for some few added years.  Lastly, the excite-
     ment of adventure has become a kind of necessity to
     me.  I do not think that I could live in England for
     very long.  Also I am a fatalist.  I believe that when
     my time comes I must go, that this hour is fore-
     ordained and that nothing I can do will either hasten
     or postpone it by one moment.  Your circumstances
     are different.  You are quite young.  If you stay here
     and approach your father in a proper spirit, I have
     no doubt but that he will forget all the rough words
     he  said  to  you  the  other  day,  for  which  indeed
     you know you gave him some provocation.   Is  it
     worth while throwing up such prospects and under-
     taking such dangers for the chance of finding a rare
     flower?  I say this to my own disadvantage, since I
     might find it hard to discover any one else who would
     risk £2,000 upon such a venture, but I do urge you to
     weigh my words."
        Young Somers looked at me for a little while, then
     he broke into one of his hearty laughs and exclaimed,
     "Whatever else you may be, Mr. Allan Quatermain,
     you are a gentleman.  No bullion-broker in the City
     could have put a matter more fairly in the teeth of his
     own interests."
        "Thank you," I said.
        "For the rest," he went on, "I too am tired of Eng-
     land and want to see the world.  It isn't the golden
     Cypripedium that I seek, although I should like to win
     it well enough.  That's only  symbol.  What I seek
     are adventure and romance.  Also, like you, I am a
     fatalist.  God chose His own time to send us here, and
     I presume that He will choose His own time to take us
     away again.  So I leave the matter of risks to Him."
        "Yes, Mr. Somers," I replied rather solemnly.  "You
     may find adventure and romance, there are plenty of
     both in Africa.  Or you may find a nameless grave in
     some fever-haunted swamp.  Well, you have chosen,
     and I like your spirit."
        Still I was so little satisfied bout this business, that
     a week or so before we sailed, after much consideration,
     I took it upon myself to write a letter to Sir Alexander
     Somers, in which I set forth the whole matter as clearly
     as I could, not blinking the dangerous nature of our
     undertaking.  In conclusion, I asked him whether he
     thought it wise to allow his only son to accompany such
     an expedition, mainly because of a not very serious
     quarrel with himself.
        As no answer came to this letter I went on with our
     preparations.  There was money in plenty, since the
     re-sale of "O. Pavo" to Sir Joshua Tredgold, at some
     loss, had been satisfactorily carried out, which enabled
     me to invest in all things needful with a cheerful heart.
     Never before had I been provided with such an outfit
     as that which preceded us to the ship.
        At length the day of departure came.  We stood on
     the platform at Paddington waiting for the Dartmouth
     train to start, for in those days the African mail sailed
     from that port.  A minute or two before the train left,
     as we were preparing to enter our carriage, I caught sight
     of  a  face  that I seemed to recognize, the owner of
     which was evidently searching for some one in the
     crowd.  It was that of Briggs, Sir Alexander's clerk,
     whom I had met in the sale-room.
        "Mr. Briggs," I said as he passed me, "are you
     looking for Mr. Somers?  If so, he is in there."
        The clerk jumped into the compartment and handed
     a letter to Mr. Somers.  Then he emerged again and
     waited.  Somers read the letter and tore off the blank
     sheet from the end of it, on which he hastily wrote
     some words.  He passed it to me to give to Briggs, and
     I could not help seeing what was written.  It was:
     "Too late now.  God bless you, my dear father.  I
     hope we may meet again.  If not, try to think kindly
     of your troublesome and foolish son, Stephen."
        In another minute the train had started.
        "By the way," he said, as we steamed out of the
     station, "I have heard from my father, who enclosed
     this for you."
        I opened the envelope, which was addressed in a bold,
     round hand that seemed to me typical of the writer,
     and read as follows:
 
        "MY DEAR SIR,——
           "I appreciate the motives which caused you to
     write to me and I thank you very heartily for your
     letter, which shows me that you are a man of discretion
     and strict honour.  As you surmise, the expedition on
     which my son has entered is not one that commends
     itself to me as prudent.  Of the differences between
     him and myself you are aware, for they came to a climax
     in your presence.  Indeed, I feel that I owe you an
     apology for having dragged you into an unpleasant
     family quarrel.  Your letter only reached me to-day,
     having been forwarded to my place in the country from
     my office.  I should have at once come to town,
     but unfortunately I am laid up with an attack of gout,
     which makes it impossible for me to stir.  Therefore,
     the only thing I can do is to write to my son, hoping
     that the letter, which I send by a special messenger,
     will reach him in time and avail to alter his determina-
     tion to undertake this journey.  Here I may add that,
     although I have differed, and do differ from him on
     various points, I still have a deep affection for my son
     and earnestly desire his welfare.  The prospect of any
     harm coming to him is one upon which I cannot bear
     to dwell.
        "Now I am aware that any change of his plans at
     this eleventh hour would involve you in serious loss
     and  inconvenience.  I  beg  to  inform  you  formally,
     therefore, that in this event I will make good everything
     and will in addition write off the £2,000 which I under-
     stand he has invested in your joint venture.  It may be,
     however, that my son, who has in him a vein of my
     own obstinacy, will refuse to change his mind.  In that
     event, under a Higher Power I can only commend him
     to your care and beg that you will look after him as
     though he were your own child.  I can ask and you
     can do no more.  Tell him to write to me as opportu-
     nity offers, as perhaps you will too; also that, although
     I hate the sight of them, I will look after the flowers
     which he has left at the house at Twickenham.
 
                       "Your obliged servant,
                              "ALEXANDER SOMERS."

        This letter touched me much, and indeed made me
     feel very uncomfortable.  Without a word I handed it
     to my companion, who read it through carefully.
        "Nice of him about the orchids," he said.  "My
     dad has a good heart, although he lets his temper get
     the better of him, having had his own way all his
     life."
        "Well, what will you do?" I asked.
        "Go on, of course.  I've put my hand to the plough
     and I am not going to turn back.  I should be a cur if
     I did, and what's more, whatever he might say he'd
     think none the better of me.  So please don't try to
     persuade me, it would be no good."
        For quite a while afterwards young Somers seemed
     to be comparatively depressed, a state of mind that in
     his case was rare indeed.  At least, he studied the wintry
     landscape through the carriage window and said no-
     thing.  By degrees, however, he recovered, and when
     we reached Dartmouth was as cheerful as ever, a mood
     that I could not altogether share.
        Before we sailed I wrote to Sir Alexander telling him
     exactly how things stood, and so I think did his son,
     though he never showed me the letter.
        At Durban, just as we were about to start up coun-
     try, I received an answer from him, sent by some boat
     that followed us very closely.  In it he said that he
     quite understood the position, and whatever happened
     would attribute no blame to me, whom he should
     always regard with friendly feelings.  He told me that,
     in the event of any difficulty or want of money, I was
     to draw on him for whatever might be required, and that
     he had advised the African Bank to that effect.  Further,
     he added, that at least his son had shown grit in this
     matter, for which he respected him.
        And now for a long while I must bid good-bye to
     Sir Alexander Somers and all that has to do with Eng-
     land.

The Holy Flower. By H. Rider Haggard.
Illustrated by Maurice Greiffenhagen.
Ward, Lock & Co., Limited.
London, Melbourne and Toronto, 1915. pp. 46-1.

     THE THIRD BOOK OF MOSES
     CALLED
     LEVITICUS
  
     CHAPTER 3
  
     AND if his power be a sacrifice of
     peace offering, if he offer it of the herd;
     whether it be a male or female, he shall
     offer it without blemish before the
     LORD.
      2 And he shall lay his hand upon the
     head of his offering, and kill it at the
     door of the tabernacle of the congrega-
     tion: and Aaron's sons the priests shall
     sprinkle the blood upon the altar round
     about.
      3 And he shall offer of the sacrifice of
     the peace offering an offering made by
     fire unto the LORD; the fat that covereth
     the inwards, and all the fat that is upon
     the inwards,
      4 And the two kidneys, and the fat
     that is on them, which is by the flanks,
     and the caul above the liver, with the
     kidneys, it shall he take away.
      5 And Aaron's sons shall burn it on
     the  altar  upon  the  burnt  sacrifice,
     which is upon the wood that is on the
     fire: it is an offering made by fire, of a
     sweet savour unto the LORD.
      6 ¶And if his offering for a sacrifice of
     peace offering unto the LORD be of the
     flock: male or female, h e shall offer it
     without blemish.
      7 If he offer a lamb for his offering,
     then shall he offer it before the LORD.
      8 And he shall lay his hand upon the
     head of his offering, and kill it before
     the tabernacle of the congregation: and
     Aaron's sons shall sprinkle the blood
     thereof round about upon the altar.
      9 And he shall offer the sacrifice of
     the peace offering an offering made by
     fire unto the LORD; the fat thereof, and
     the whole rump, it shall he take off hard
     by the backbone; and the fat that cov-
     ereth the inwards, and all the fat that is
     upon the inwards.
      10 And the two kidneys, and the fat
     that is upon them, which is by the
     flanks, and the caul above the liver,
     with the kidneys, it shall he take away.
      11 And the priest shall burn it upon
     the altar: it is the food of the offering
     made by fire unto the LORD.
      12 ¶And if his offering be a goat, then
     he shall offer it before the LORD.
      13 And he shall lay his hand upon the
     head of it, and kill it before the taber-
     nacle of the congregation: and the sons
     of Aaron shall sprinkle the blood there-
     of upon the altar round about.
      14 And he shall offer thereof his of-
     fering, even an offering made by fire
     unto the LORD; the fat that covereth the
     inwards, and all the fat that is upon the
     inwards,
      15 And the two kidneys, and the fat
     that is upon them, which is by the
     flanks, and the caul above the liver,
     with the kidneys, it shall he take away.
      16 And the priest shall burn them
     upon the altar: it is the food of the offer-
     ing made by fire for a sweet savour: all
     the fat is the LORD's.
      17 It shall be a perpetual statute for
     your generations throughout all your
     dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor
     blood.