To the Vicar and Dr. Hansombody, his executors, fifty pounds apiece.

And lastly, the residue of his estate (some four thousand pounds), together with the five thousand pounds reverting on his kinswoman's death, to the Mayor and Corporation, to build and endow a Hospital for the relief of the sick; the same to be known as the Hymen Hospital, 'in the hope that the name of one who left no heirs may yet be preserved a while by the continuity of human suffering.'

At the conclusion of Lawyer Chinn's reading it is not too much to say that all his audience caught their breaths. They had known the Major to be a great man: but not till now--not perhaps until that last solemn sentence fell on their ears--had they understood his greatness.

I have heard that the silence which followed was broken by a sob.

Certainly the meeting dispersed in choking silence.

At length Troy realised its loss.

From that moment the figure, hitherto remembered in the clear outlines of affection, begun to grow, loom, expand, in the mists of awe. It ceased to be familiar, having put on greatness. Men began to tell how, on that last fatal expedition, the Major had turned single-handed and held a whole squadron of Dragoons at bay.

In his garden, by the brink of the fish-pond, Mr. Basket reared a stone with the following inscription:

ATTEND O Pa.s.sER BY!

ON THIS SPOT AS NEARLY AS CAN BE ASCERTAINED SOLOMON HYMEN, ESQUIRE SEVEN TIMES MAYOR OF TROY IN CORNWALL RELINQUISHED HIS HONOURS FOR HIS COUNTRY'S NEED AND RESOLUTELY SACRIFICED EASE, FRIENDSHIP, FAME TO EMBARK HIS SOLE MANHOOD IN HER DEFENCE AMID THE SURROUNDING MEMORIALS OF GREECE AND ROME CHALLENGING THE SEVEREST VIRTUES OF ANTIQUITY WITH A BRITON'S RESOLUTION

CHAPTER XIX.

THE RETURN.

There lies before me a copy of _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_, dated Sat.u.r.day, July 2nd, 1814, much tattered and broken along the creases into which my great-grandmother (the same that left us the Major's Cameo) folded it these many years ago, to be laid away for a memorial.

The advertis.e.m.e.nts need not detain us long. Two husbands will not be responsible for their wives' debts, and one of them alleges that his lady "has behaved herself improperly during my absence at sea."

A solicitor will lend 1000 pounds on good security. A medical man, yielding to the persuasions of numerous friends, will remain another fortnight in the town; and may be consulted as usual at Mr. Kitt's, Grocer, King Street, Dock, every Tuesday and Sat.u.r.day from ten to six. M. La Barre (whom I guess to have been a Royalist refugee) will reopen instruction for young ladies and gentlemen in the French language on the 12th inst. The tolls and profits of the Saltash and the Ashburton turnpikes will be bidden for by public auction.

The schooner _Brothers_ and the fast-sailing cutter _Gambier_ are for sale, together with the model of a frigate, "about six feet two inches long, copper-bottomed, and mounted with thirty-two guns."

The Royal Auxiliary Mail will start from Congdon's Commercial Inn every afternoon at a quarter before five, reaching the "Bell and Crown," Holborn, in thirty-six hours: pa.s.sengers for London have a further choice of the "Devonshire" (running through Bristol) or the "Royal Clarence" (through Salisbury). Two rival light coaches compete for pa.s.sengers to Portsmouth. The "Self-Defence," Plymouth to Falmouth, four insides, will keep the same time as His Majesty's Mail. The Unitarian a.s.sociation advertises a meeting at which Dr.

Toulmin of Birmingham will preach. The Friends of the Abolition of the Slave Trade print a long manifesto. The Phoenix, Eagle and Atlas Companies invite insurers. Sufferers from various disorders will find relief in Spilsbury's Patent Antis...o...b..tic, Dr. Bateman's Pectoral, and Wessel's Jesuit's Drops.

Turning to the news columns, we find the whole country aflame with joy at the restoration of Peace. Once again (it is ten years since we last saw him there) the Prince Regent is at Portsmouth, feasting, speech-making, dancing, reviewing the fleet and the troops. With him are the Emperor of Russia; the Emperor's sister, the d.u.c.h.ess of Oldenburg; the King of Prussia; the Royal Dukes of Clarence, York, Cambridge; the Duke of Wellington and Field-Marshal Blucher. We read that on first catching sight of Wellington the Prince Regent "seized his hand and appeared lost in sensibility for the moment." As for Blucher, a party of sailors, defying his escort of dragoons, boarded and "took possession of the quarter-deck, or, in other words, the top of the carriage."

"Some were capsized; but two of them swore to defend the brave, and, as the carriage drew on, to the delight of all the tars commenced reels _a la Saunders_ on the top, all the way to Government House, where the General was received with open hands and hearts, amid a group of as brave warriors as ever graced a festive table or bled in defence of their country's wrongs (_sic_)."

At the subsequent Ball:

"The Duke did not dance: and the gallant Blucher was so overcome by the heat of the ballroom as to oblige him to retire for a short time. . . . The two gallant Generals rode from the Government House in the same carriage; and it was observed that the Emperor of Russia shook hands with the ill.u.s.trious Wellington every time he was near him."

From Portsmouth next day the Duke posts up to Westminster, to be introduced by the Dukes of Richmond and Beaufort and take his seat in the Lords under his new patents of n.o.bility. Simultaneously in the Commons, Lord Castlereagh moves a Vote of Thanks, which is carried by a unanimous House. For the rest, Parliament is mainly occupied in discussing Lord Cochrane's case and the sorrows of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, especially "the inadequacy of her income to support the ordinary dignities of her rank, and afford her those consolations which the unfortunate state of her domestic feelings require." Mr. Wilberforce delivers a most animated speech against the Slave Trade. It is rumoured that Princess Charlotte of Wales has definitely refused the hand of the Prince of Orange, and that the rejected lover has left London, full of grief, in his carriage-and-four.

In short, our Major has been lost to us for ten full years, and still the world goes on: nay, for the moment it is going on excitedly.

The procession with which the officers and artificers of Plymouth Dockyard yesterday celebrated the establishment of Peace alone occupies five columns of the paper.

What, then, of Troy? Ah, my friends, never doubt that Troy did its part, and, what is more, was beforehand as usual!

REJOICINGS AT TROY

"In consequence of the re-establishment of Peace, the inhabitants of Troy were at an early hour on _Monday_, June 13th, busily employed in decorating their houses with laurel, etc., and forming arches in the streets, variegated with flowers and emblematical representations; and thirty-eight well-formed arches soon graced the joyful town. . . ."

Thirty-eight arches! Consider it, you provincial towns of twice, thrice, ten times Troy's size, who erected a beggarly five or six on Queen Victoria's last Jubilee, and doubtless plumed yourselves on your exuberant loyalty!

". . . To regale the poor, a bullock, two sheep (each weighing a hundred pounds), eight hundred twopenny loaves, with a great quant.i.ty of beer and porter, the gift of Sir Felix Felix-Williams, were distributed in the Market House and Town Hall by the Mayor (Dr. Hansombody) and gentlemen.

Every individual appeared happy: indeed it was highly gratifying to see so many people with joy painted on their countenances showing forth the delight of their hearts. To crown the day, a number of respectable citizens drank tea with the Mayoress, after which they adjourned to the Town Hall and commenced dancing, which was kept up for a long time with great spirit and regularity.

"_Tuesday_ morning was ushered in with ringing of bells, etc., and a great number of people a.s.sembled before the 'Ship' Inn to dance, during which the ladies were engaged in ornamenting, with flowers, flags and emblems, two boats placed on wheel sledges drawn by the populace. In fitting them up with such taste and elegance, Miss P--d and Miss S. T--l were particularly active and deserve every praise. At three o'clock the Mayor and a respectable company sat down to an excellent dinner at the 'Ship' Inn, the band playing many grand national tunes in an adjoining room. After the repast signals were given from the Town Quay for the Battery guns to fire, and they accordingly fired three royal salutes in compliment to the Allied Sovereigns. The boats before mentioned were soon ready to start, the former filled by ladies with garlands and other emblems of Peace in their hands, and the latter with musicians; but previous to their removal Lord Wellington and some Cossacks appeared on horseback in search of Bonaparte, who according to his late practice had taken flight. However, he was soon driven back and taken, being met by a miller, who jumped up behind him and, observing his dejected and mournful countenance, embraced him with all the seeming fondness of a parent, desiring him to rouse up his spirits, if possible, to preserve his life.

The grand procession of boats now began by a slow but graceful movement of the first, in the bow of which was a dove with outspread wings, holding an olive branch in her mouth.

The boats were followed by a great concourse of people through the streets, and on their return were met by many gentlemen with wine, etc. This day, like the preceding, ended with a merry dance in the Town Hall.

"_Wednesday's_ rejoicings opened at noon with a dinner at the 'King of Prussia,' attended by the survivors of the disbanded Troy Volunteer Artillery, attired in the uniforms of that ever-famous corps. The sight of the old regimentals evoked the tears of sensibility from more than one eye which had never flinched before the prospect of actual warfare. After the meal, at which many a veteran 'told his battles o'er again,' a number of toasts were proposed by the Mayor, including 'The Allied Sovereigns,' 'The Prince Regent,'' The Duke of Wellington'

(with three times three), 'The Troy Gallants,' 'The Memory of their first beloved Commander, Major Hymen'--this last being drunk in silence. The company then dispersed, to rea.s.semble below the Town Quay, where the boats which had adorned Monday's festivities were again launched, this time upon their native element, and proceeded, amid the clanging of joy-bells from the church tower, to cross the harbour, on the farther sh.o.r.es of which a large and enthusiastic crowd awaited them. In the first boat were the musicians; in the second a number of ladies and gentlemen in fancy costumes. A score of boats followed, filled with spectators; and were welcomed, as they reached the sh.o.r.e, with loud expressions of joy. Lord Wellington was again mounted on horseback, with General Platoff and some Cossacks.

Bonaparte and his followers were also mounted, and some skirmishes took place of so lifelike a character as to evoke universal plaudits. . . ."

A wooden-legged man, who had been stumping it for many hours along the high road from Plymouth, paused on the knap of the hill, mopped his dusty brow, and gazed down upon the harbour, shading his eyes.

He wore a short blue jacket with tattered white facings, a pair of white linen trousers patched at the knees, a round tarpaulin hat, a burst shoe upon his hale foot, and carried a j.a.panned knapsack--all powdered with white dust of the road in which his wooden leg had been prodding small round holes for mile after mile.

He had halted first as his ear caught the merry chime of bells from the opposite sh.o.r.e. Having mopped his brow, he moved forward and halted again by a granite cross and drinking-trough whence the road led steeply downhill between the first houses of the village. He was visibly agitated. His hand trembled on his stick: his face flushed hotly beneath its mask of dust and sweat, and upon the flush a cicatrix--the mark of a healed bullet-wound--showed up for the moment on his left cheek, white as if branded there.

The people were shouting below, cheering vociferously. Yes, and along the harbour every vessel, down to the smallest sailing-boat, was bedecked with bunting from bowsprit-end to taffrail. The bells rang on like mad. The bells. . . . He dropped the hand which had been shading his eyes, let dip his frayed cuff in the water of the fountain and, removing his hat, dabbed his bald head. This--had he known it--worsened the smears of dust. But he was not thinking of his appearance.

He was thinking--had been thinking all the way from Plymouth--only of the harbour at his feet, and the town beyond. His eyes rested on them again, after ten years. All the way his heart had promised him nothing but this. He had forgotten self; having in ten years, and painfully, learnt that lesson.

But the music of the bells, the distant sounds of cheering, recalled that forgotten self; or perhaps it leapt into a.s.sertiveness again unwittingly, by a.s.sociation of ideas with the old familiar scene.

He had left the people cheering. . . . Was it ten years ago?

They were cheering still. . . .

The road within view was deserted. But from below the dip of the hill the cheers ascended, louder and louder yet, deepening in volume.

He had intended to walk down the hill--as he hoped, unrecognised-- cross the ferry, and traverse the streets of Troy to his own front door; then, or later, to announce himself. A thousand times in his far prison in Briancon among the high Alps he had pictured it.

He had discounted all possibilities of change. In ten years, to be sure, much may happen. . . .

But here below him lay the harbour and the town, save for these evidences of joy surprisingly unchanged.

Why were the church bells ringing; the people shouting? Could word have been carried to them? He could not conceive how the news had managed to outstrip him.

He had left the people cheering; they were cheering still. . . . Were these ten years, then, but a grotesque and hideous dream? He gazed down upon his wooden leg, stiffly protruding before him and pointing, as it were ironically, at the scene of which it shared no memories.

A moment later he lifted his head at the sound of hoofs galloping up the road towards him. Round the corner, on a s.h.a.ggy yellow horse almost _ventre-a-terre_, came a little man in a c.o.c.ked hat, who rose in his stirrups drunkenly and blew a kiss to a dozen armed pursuers pounding at his heels.

Between wonder and alarm, the Major (you have guessed it was he) sprang up from his seat by the fountain. Fatal movement! At the sudden apparition the yellow horse shied violently, swerving more than halfway across the road; and its rider, looking backwards and taken at unawares, was shot out of his stirrups and flung shoulders-over-head in the dust, where he rolled sideways and lay still. His pursuers reined up with loud outcries of dismay.

The Major advanced to the body, knelt beside it and turned it over.

The man was bleeding from a cut in the head; but this and a slight concussion of the brain appeared to be the extent of his injuries.

His neck-cloth being loosened, he groaned heavily. The Major looked up.

"A nasty shock! For the moment I was half afraid--"

The words died away on his lips. One or two of the riders had alighted and all stood, or sat their horses, around him in a ring.

He knew their faces, their names; yes, one and all he knew them; and they wore the uniform of the Troy Volunteer Artillery!