the days of my life-第53部分

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st　with　a　marvellous　memory。　I　have　heard　him　tell　story　after　story　without　stopping；　till　at　length　I　began　to　hope　that　the　stock　was　running　low。　Sir　Redvers　was　always　very　kind　to　me；　but　he　was　not　a　man　to　cross　in　argument。　Once；　at　his　own　table；　I　heard　him　differ　from　the　late　Lord　Justice　Bowen　in　a　way　that　made　me　glad　that　I　was　not　Lord　Justice　Bowen。　What　struck　me　was　the　extraordinary　patience　with　which　the　Judge　submitted　to　the　scolding。　He　must　have　had　a　very　sweet　nature；　indeed　I　always　thought　that　this　was　so。
It　was　about　this　time　that　I　first　made　the　acquaintance　of　Mr。　Rudyard　Kipling；　who　had　recently　arrived　in　England；　I　suppose　from　India。　He　was　then　a　young　fellow　about　five…and…twenty；　and　in　appearance　and　manner　very　much　what　he　is　today。　I　cannot　recall　under　what　circumstance　we　first　met。　Perhaps　it　was　at　a　dinner…party　I　gave　at　my　house；　24　Redcliffe　Square；　to　some　literary　friends。　I　remember　that　Kipling　arrived　late　and　explained　the　reason　by　pointing　to　a　cut　upon　his　temple。　Whilst　he　was　driving　towards　my　house　his　hansom　collided　with　a　van　in　Piccadilly；　and　there　was　a　smash　in　which　he　had　a　narrow　escape。　From　that　time　forward　we　have　always　liked　each　other；　perhaps　because　on　many；　though　not　on　all；　matters　we　find　no　point　of　difference。
Another　man　very　well　known　in　his　day　with　whom　I　was　acquainted　was　the　great　and　acplished　doctor；　Sir　Henry　Thompson；　by　birth　an　East　Anglian　like　myself。　Once　I　was　present　at　one　of　his　famous　octave　dinners。　If　I　remember　right；　we　were　received　in　a　room　hung　round　with　beautiful　pictures　by　Etty；　as　were　others　in　the　house。　It　had　a　couch　in　it　on　which　Sir　Henry　slept；　or　rather　tried　to　sleep；　at　nights。　He　suffered　terribly　from　insomnia；　and　told　me　that　one　of　his　plans　to　induce　slumber　was　to　count　thousands　of　imaginary　sheep　running　through　a　phantom　gate。　Also　he　would　rise　and　walk　about　the　streets　to　cause　weariness。
A　very　interesting　gentlemen　whom　I　knew　was　the　late　Mr。　Meredith　Townsend。　He　was　one　of　the　editors　and　part　owner　of　the　Spectator；　out　of　which　journal　he　told　me　he　drew　a　fortable　5000　pounds　a　year。　His　conversation　was　particularly　delightful　and　informing；　especially　when　he　spoke　of　India。
I　have　before　me　a　letter　that　he　wrote　to　me　before　I　visited　Iceland；　in　which　he　says：
It　would　be　worth　living　to　read　your　account　of　a　Berserk；　a　white　Umslopogaas；　with　a　vein　of　pity　in　him　for　women　only。　。　。　。　You　are　aware　that　the　Berserks　when　they　left　their　Aryan　home　on　the　northern　slope　of　the　Hindoo　Koosh　took　with　them　hemp　and　the　dangerous　knowledge　of　its　quality　of　producing　the　temporary　fury　of　battle。　The　secret　still　remains　in　India；　and　natives　who　mean　killing　swallow　bhang。
I　think　that　this　hint　gave　me　the　idea　of　my　Norse　character；　Skallagrim。　Mr。　Townsend　told　me　that　he　would　live　to　be　eighty；　which　he　did。　I；　he　said；　should　die　at　sixty；　as　by　then　my　highly　strung　temperament　would　have　exicans　say。
Another　person　whom　I　knew　very　well　was　Miss　Marjorie　Barber；　who　has　since　bee　famous　on　the　strength　of　her　delicately　written　and　arresting　booklet；　“The　Roadmender；”　which　was　published　after　her　death。
My　intimacy　with　Marjorie　was　brought　about　by　the　fact　that　her　sister　Agnes　—　a　woman　with　as　fine　a　literary　sense　and　more　all…round　ability；　although　circumstances　and　a　family　have　allowed　her　but　little　time　to　make　use　of　them　—　became　my　sister…inlaw　as　I　have　said；　and；　before　that　event；　for　some　years　lived　in　our　house。　While　she　was　here；　or　shortly　afterwards；　Mrs。　Barber；　her　mother；　and　Marjorie　came　to　live　at　Bungay；　a　mile　away；　so　that　I　saw　plenty　of　the　latter。　She　was　a　tall　and　pretty　girl；　very　pleasant；　very　witty　—　I　think　one　of　the　most　amusing　afternoons　I　ever　had　in　my　life　I　spent　with　her　alone　in　the　British　Museum；　it　was　our　last　meeting；　I　believe　—　and　with　all　the　eccentricity　that　so　usually　acpanies　a　touch　of　genius。
At　the　time　of　her　residence　in　Bungay　she　was　under　the　sway　of　a　Low　Church　mania；　and　used　to　appear　dressed　as　a　deaconess　and　with　a　large　Bible　pressed　against　her　middle。　Nor　was　she　above　laughing　at　herself　when　the　ludicrous　aspect　of　her　get…up　was　pointed　out　to　her。　Subsequently；　with　a　swing　of　the　mental　pendulum　she　became　equally　High　Church；　and　modelled　crucifixes　and　saints　extremely　well。　I　think　it　was　between　these　periods　that　she　was　with　difficulty　restrained　from　starting　off　alone　to　bee　a　missionary　in　China。　I　remember　well　that　when　her　sister　Mabel；　now　also　dead；　was　informed　of　one　of　these　phases　she　wrote　back：　“Oh！　for　goodness’　sake　leave　Marjorie　alone；　for　if　it　wasn’t　that；　it　would　be　‘Captain　Happy　Eliza’　with　a　tambourine！”
In　her　later　days；　after　her　mother’s　death　at　Bungay；　Marjorie　met　a　lady　doctor　who；　I　think；　treated　her　for　some　illness。　To　this　lady　and　her　husband　she　became　so　much　attached　that　not　only　did　she　go　to　live　with　them；　but　also　formally　adopted　their　family　name　and；　when　she　died；　left　them　everything　she　possessed。　I　believe　that　these　adopted　parents　were　very　kind　to　her；　and　nursed　her　well　during　her　last　painful　and　plicated　illness；　which　I　was　told　was　tuberculosis　in　its　origin。
It　was　only　during　her　last　years　that　Marjorie　took　to　writing；　which；　seeing　how　great　were　her　abilities　in　this　direction；　is　unfortunate。　It　is；　however；　quite　possible；　judging　from　what　I　know　of　her　disposition；　that　if　she　had　begun　earlier　she　would　have　wearied　of　the　business　and　cast　it　aside。　As　it　was；　she　showed　great　perseverance　under　distressing　circumstances；　for；　when　she　became　unable　to　use　her　right　hand；　she　taught　herself　to　write　with　the　left　and　in　all　sorts　of　strange　attitudes　made　necessary　by　her　plaint。　Personally　I　prefer　“Brother　Hilarius”　to　all　her　few　other　literary　efforts；　not　excluding　the　much…praised　“Roadmender；”　perhaps　because　of　its　charming　pictures　of　the　scenery　of　this　neighbourhood。
Marjorie　had　considerable　psychic　powers。　Thus　her　sister　Agnes　told　me　only　the　other　day　that　she　had　actually　known　her；　when　lying　helpless　in　bed；　to　read　a　newly　opened　letter　held　in　a　person’s　hand　at　the　other　end　of　a　long　room　far　beyond　her　reach　of　vision；　without；　of　course；　any　acquaintance　with　the　contents　of　the　letter。　Her　sister　told　me　also　—　she　was　present　at　the　time　—　she　believed　that　she　really　died　some　days　before　the　breath　actually　left　her。　In　this　connection　she　exampled　the　conduct　of　a　little　dog　in　the　house　—　I　think　it　was　a　fox…terrier　—　which　was　much　attached　to　Marjorie　and　for　long　weeks　at　a　time　could　scarcely　be　got　away　from　her　bedside。　A　few　days　before　her　actual　breathing　ceased；　however；　this　dog　suddenly　left　the　room；　and　could　not　by　any　means　be　prevailed　upon　to　return　there。　Such　at　least　is　the　story　as　it　came　to　me。
I　am　sorry　not　to　have　seen　more　of　Marjorie　during　her　last　years；　but　in　truth　she　vanished　away　from　kith　and　kin　and　friends。
Another　of　my　early　friends；　who；　I　am　glad　to　say；　still　survives；　is　Dr。　Wallis　Budge；20　the　head　of　the　Egyptian　Department　of　the　British　Museum；　to　whom　not　long　ago　I　dedicated　my　book　“Morning　Star；”　an　attention　that　pleased　him　very　much。　I　really　think　that　Budge　is　both　the　most　industrious　and　the　most　learned　man　of　my　acquaintance。　How　he　can　pass　all　the　work　he　gets　through　—　and　such　work！　—　is　to　me　one　of　the　marvels　of　the　age。　As　might　be　expected；　he　is　a　great　believer　in　the　Old　Egyptians；　indeed；　as　I　told　him　not　long　ago；　he　has　been　so　long　of　their　pany　in　spirit　that　almost　he　has　bee　one　of　them。　Budge　seems　to　be　of　opinion　that　the　ancient　thinkers　among　this　people　discovered　all　that　we　can　learn　of　the　mysteries　which　relate　to　the　life　of　the　soul；　the　resurrection；　etc。　In　times　that　passed　away　before　history　began　—　when；　as　he　says；　men　had　leisure　for　reflection　—　they　found　out　much　that　we　think　now。　Afterwards；　he　remarked　to　me；　the　medicine…man　and　the　paid　priest　arose　and　overlaid　the　truth　with　all　the　fantasies　and　formulas　and　ridiculous　details　of　symbolical　worship　which　it　was　to　their　advantage　to　imagine　and　maintain。　If　I　understand　him　right；　he　holds　that　religion　pure　and　undefiled　wells　up　spontaneously　in　the　heart　of　man；　and　that　afterwards　it　is　smothered；　and　even　killed；　with　the　dross　of　ritual　and　controversy　where　professional　theologians　pitch　their　camps。
There　has　been　much　talk　of　late　of　a　painted　board　on　which　a　face　is　carved；　which　once　rested　on　the　mummy　of　a　priestess　of　Amen　who　lived　about　1500　B。C。　It　has　been　supposed　to　bring　misfortune　to　those　who　had　anything　to　do　with　it；　or　who　even　looked　upon　it。
One　day　in　the　autumn　of　1889　a　gentleman　was　shown　into　Dr。　Budge’s　room　in　the　British　Museum　and；　producing　a　photograph　of　the　painted　board；　asked　him　to　tell　what　the　object　represented　was。　Budge　saw　at　once　that　it　was　an　object　of　which　the　Museum　had　few　examples；　and　that　it　was　in　a　good　state　of　preservation；　and　also　an　antica　of　considerable　value。　The　visitor　said；　“Do　you　want　it？”　Budge　said；　“Yes；　but　we　have　no　money。”　Visitor：　“I　don’t　want　money。　I’ll　give　it　to　you。”　Budge：　“Very　handsome　of　you。　Please　give　me　your　name　and　address；　and　I　will　report　your　generous　gift　to　the　Trustees。”　The　visitor　did　so；　but　lingered；　and　after　a　time　said；　“Could　you　send　for　it　today？”　There　was　difficulty；　it　then　being　three　o’clock；　in　getting　a　van　and　men；　but　they　were　got　and　sent　for　the　board。　The　visitor　asked　if　he　might　remain　till　the　board　came；　and　Budge　gave　him　books　to　look　at。　In　due　course　the　board　arrived　and　the　men　brought　it　upstairs；　and　the　visitor　got　up　and　thanked　Budge　profusely。　Said　Budge；　“The　thanks　are　due　to　you　from　us。”　Whereupon　the　visitor　took　Budge　by　the　hand　and　said　words　to　this　effect：　“Thank　God　you　have　taken　the　damned　thing！　There　is　an　evil　spirit　in　it　which　appears　in　its　eyes。　It　was　brought　home　by　a　friend　of　mine　who　was　travelling　with　Douglas　Murray；　and　he　lost　all　his　money　when　a　bank　in　China　broke；　and　his　daughter　died。　I　took　the　board　into　my　house。　The　eyes　frightened　my　daughter　into　a　sickness。　I　moved　it　to　another　room；　and　it　threw　down　a　china　cabi　and　smashed　a　lot　of　Sevres　china　in　it。　The　cook　saw　it　and　fainted；　and　the　other　servants　saw　flashes　of　fire　e　from　the　eyes；　and　ran　away　from　the　house。　A　friend　suggested　the　giving　it　to　the　Museum；　and；　thank　God！　you　have　accepted　it。　I　want　no　thanks。　I　shall　be　ever　in　your　debt。”　With　these　words　he　left　the　room　and　Budge　saw　him　no　more。　The　board　was　put　into　the　mummy　room；　and　Douglas　Murray　and　W。　T。　Stead　came　and　examined　it　and　said　it　possessed　psychic　powers　—　that　a　soul　in　torment　was　chained　up　in　the　board；　and　so　on。　All　this　got　into　the　papers；　and　much　nonsense　besides。　Budge　said　that　the　board　had　given　them　no　trouble；　and　published　it　in　one　of　his　books。
A　certain　mummy　had　many　weird　stories　attached　to　it。　It　was　bought　by　“Midge”　Ingram　of　the　Illustrated　London　News　and　brought　to　London。　Budge　was　sent　to　report　upon　it　by　his　chief；　Dr。　Birch；　and　he　said　it　belonged　to　the　Ptolemaic　Period　and　came　from　Akhmi