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BEST,
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1
BOLDEST,
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=





GRIEN
ON
ROUGEMONT;
OR,
The Story of a Modern Robinson Crusoe.
As told in the Pages of the "DAILY CHRONICLE.”
ILLUSTRATED BY TEN
BY
HUMOROUS DRAWINGS
PHIL MAY
AND OTHER PICTURES.
ALSO A PANTOMIME SKETCH
BY
BARRY PAIN.
PUBLISHED BY
EDWARD LLOYD, LIMITED, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1898.
PRICE-SIXPENCE.
K
L
LARGEST
SALE
ON
EARTH
C∙H-go
W
PE ROUGE
ONDON!
RUTH
ONDON
A DROP CURTAIN.-BOUND FOR LONDON.
SI H
STRANGER
THAN
FICTION
E
R
LONDON
BRUNO
-5
Uns
Y
हे
PHIL MAY 2
I
|
4
THE DE ROUGEMONT PANTOMIME.

Res.
Regent L. L. Hubbard
11-18-1925
5
The Story of a Modern Robinson Crusoe.
T
HE strange history of the strange adventurer known as
Louis de Rougemont-otherwise Henri Louis Grin-
has been told in many forms, and we do not doubt that
most people know something of it. But the true story has
never been put together in a connected narrative, and this
we now proceed to do.
One day at the beginning of March in this year of grace,
a gaunt and seedy immigrant in a rough tweed suit landed
at the London Docks from the S.S. Waikato. He had
worked his passage from Wellington, New Zealand, and was
entered as a "gentleman's servant." The description was quite
true so far as it applied to Grin's earlier life and original occu-
pation. On the voyage he did a little stoking in return for his
keep. In the night, and in his spare time, he told strange yarns
of adventures in the Southern Continent, and for a while, until
his trials failed, he figured as the hero of certain spiritualistic
séances. There is no doubt that he is in fact a firm believer
in the "spirits," and he was known in that way in Lyttleton,
New Zealand. He even averred that it was a spirit warning
that had induced him to change his original intention,
which had been to sail from New Zealand for this country in
the S.S. Mataura. This ship was actually wrecked, with all
hands, in the Straits of Magellan, and the coincidence, as we
must suppose it, so far confirmed Mr. Henri Louis Grin, or
Grien, as his anglicised name went, in his belief, that he was
ready to stake his life on spirit warnings for the future.
Whether he consulted his immaterial friends as to the
means by which he was to make his livelihood in London,
we know not. If he did, we should be curious to learn what
they said.
Did they tell him how futile would be his efforts
to earn an ordinary livelihood? And did they reveal to him
the brilliant dénouement, when he should appear before the
assembled science and curiosity of Great Britain, and pose
as the latest and greatest of explorers?
We cannot tell. All we know is that the seedy "gentleman's
servant" found himself almost friendless in London. It is
true that he was not without relatives. He was in touch
with his family, who vegetate peacefully by the pleasant
borders of the Lake of Neuchâtel, and they had apprised
those relatives who lived in London. What Swiss village
has not its subjects in the metropolis? He had a sister
married in London. A maternal aunt had lived in Kensington
as the widow of a Professor of languages, and there
was another lady who is spoken of in his home as "Flo."
Grin, as will be seen, saw in course of time some old friends
and many compatriots, but he did not prosper. He made
for the foreigners' paradise in Soho. He took a modest
lodging in Frith Street, and proceeded to seek his fortune.
He gave his landlady the name of H. L. Grien, and had
no more luggage than would fill a match box."
(C
>>
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B-2
He had,
His idea of making a livelihood was an odd one.
in fact, “three strings to his bow," though none seemed very
serviceable. First of all, he was an inventor. Untold wealth
awaited him, he assured anyone who would listen, because he
had devised, perhaps patented, a new diving dress, so in-
geniously made, that a man could go down in it to depths
hitherto unreached, and snatch untold treasure from the
hungry sea.
That
There was one thing wanting-only one.
was, as usual, the necessary capital to demonstrate the merit
of the invention, and to employ it in the prosaic task of
salvage, and the more exciting game of treasure hunting.
Needless to say, Grin had not got the diving dress in his
bag; he had not even a drawing of it. The drawings, he
said, had been sent-in defiance of the spirits, we suppose,—
by the other ship which was wrecked. But if some trustful
compatriot would only finance him, he would get duplicate
drawings from Australia. He would get his beautiful machine
constructed; he would have it tried in the deep sea, say in
the Bristol Channel; and before a breathless tug-load of
insurance folk and other experts, he would triumphantly
show how specie could be rescued from unimaginable
depths. Would he be willing to go down in it himself?
He thought twice about that, for reasons which he does not
appear to have explained. In fact, he found means, for he
had fallen in with spiritualistic friends in London, to ask
"If you go.
the spirits what would happen if he did.
down," the wise spooks answered, "the spirits will be with
you." This delphic utterance of theirs Grin took for a
guarantee of safety, and he expressed his readiness to try his
invention upon himself.
There was sufficient reason, however, for this questioning.
Doubtless, like other inventors, he believed in his machine.
But, unhappily, it had been tried before. The tugboat full of
insurance experts had duly sailed out in Sydney Harbour,
not so many months back, with a helpless foreign diver, who
had been persuaded to become the corpus vile.
The trial was
to have been made off the Heads, in very deep water indeed.
At the last moment, someone protested against that, and they
came back to the inner harbour, which is deep enough. The
diver fastened on his brass arrangements and went down, but
There was an
presently he came up-and he was dead.
inquest, and a verdict was found that the man had some-
thing wrong with him and would have died anyhow.
then in
But Mr. May, the well-known diver, who was
Sydney, the hero of the great rescue of specie from the
wreck of the Catterthun, after inspecting the machine for
his employers, told Grin that he had "got hold of a very fine
death trap." We are not sure, but we believe that that very
"death trap" is still lying at a brass finisher's shop in Sydney.
Besides being an inventor, Grin was also a photographer.
6
THE MOST
WONDERFUL
TRUE STORY
EVER MAN
LIVED TO TEL
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
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"

That seems, indeed, to be the nearest approach to a settled
calling which he has followed for many years. He had
a little business of the sort at one time in Sydney, and though
he seems to have been generally engaged in doing something
else, he could photograph when he chose, and we have
seen with our own eyes very passable work of his doing.
Besides the common way of photography, he professed to
be an "artist" in the portrait line. The fact is that he
had acquired a trick of drawing enlargements in pencil
or crayon from photographs, and he had some facile
skill in touching up the cartoons. We are informed that
he sought work in both these branches, but apparently
he sought it feebly. He is said to have picked up,
somehow, one of those spiritualist photographers, who “take”
occasional "spirit photographs," and to have made pro-
posals to him for work as an assistant. But whether it
was that the operator did not want an assistant, or that
he did not want one who believed in the " "spirits as
faithfully as the man who called himself Mr. Grien, it is
certain that nothing came of it.
As to the portrait business, the wayfarer was, indeed,
very hardly treated by Dame Fortune. It was his habit
to call on every Swiss business man he knew of, in the
vain hope of getting some one to finance the " diving
apparatus." He called in that way on the surviving mem-
bers of two of the families to whom he had ministered in
other days as a "gentleman's servant." But of that, more
anon.
On one of his calls, he fell in with a kindly and
charitable Swiss firm who had no mind to embark on
his speculation, but were, nevertheless, not unwilling to
help the poor soul otherwise if they could. To them he
suggested in conversation that he could make an enlarged
portrait of the head of the firm. They understood him
to say that he was going to draw it as an artist, and
agreed to let him try his hand. Then a difficulty arose.
Whether it was that he was loth to admit that his method
was merely mechanical, or whether in his eloquent way
of talking he had suggested more than the truth, we
cannot tell; but when he began to ask for a photograph,
and to excuse himself in various ways from the offer of
a sitting, the good people came to the conclusion that
he was not serious. It so chanced that not long afterwards
our own inquiries about him recalled the matter to their
memory, and they felt bound, in the public interest, to
put themselves in communication with us, and to inform
us of what they knew. This clue, as it chanced, was
one of the first that enabled us to establish his identity.
Before we pass to the incidents connected with the dis-
covery, we must, however, follow the career of the shabby
immigrant in another direction. The third of his ideas as
to the possibility of a livelihood was that he should "write
a book." We learn that all his life he has been in the
habit of telling yarns, and that in his voyage home in the
S.S. Waikato he was particularly fruitful. in this way.
Further it appears to be clear that from his earliest years
he has, like many other people, been an eager reader of
stories of adventure; and besides he is nothing if not an
#
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
•
"}
7
un-
ambitious man. To do him justice, the idea that the book
of adventures to be written should be a fraud seems to
have been a gradual development. We cannot even now be
sure how far the full blossom and pride of that magnificent
idea is the work of the man himself. But we gather that
as he found the prospects of the diving machine grew more
and more hopeless, and as he was either unable or
willing to follow his photographic calling, his mind turned
to the literary idea. We should add that by this time
he had come into full communication with his relatives in
Switzerland, and particularly with the guiding genius of
the family, who is an energetic Swiss pastor, at the little
town of Suchy, with whom he was corresponding about
his literary ambition in April of this year.
Apparently the reverend gentleman has all his life been
in the habit of giving his wandering brother good advice.
Being an author of books himself, he knew very well
that the literary project, especially in the hands of a man
who had no education, was not likely to open the golden
gates of fortune. But there was another adviser who
turned up in the nick of time
in the nick of time and saved the situation.
Grien, as we shall presently set forth, had lived for many
years and in many capacities in Sydney. From time to
time he had done a little canvassing in various small
ways, and amongst other things he had been employed
as a plausible tout to sell small lots of building land on the
well-known Holt-Sutherland Estate. The agent for this
estate was a Mr. Murphy, and, accordingly, Grien was well-
known to him. For reasons which are variously stated,
Mr. Murphy ceased to represent the estate, and came to
London, where he was known as an adventurer, first with
good and then with adverse fortune, in the stormy waters
of West Australian finance. It was his habit, it seems, to
frequent various Australian haunts in the City and else-
where, and in this way, by pure chance, he fell in with
his old canvasser Grien, and heard his difficulties and his
projects. Finally Mr. Murphy became Grien's philosopher and
friend, and under his patronage Grien left the shabby room
in Frith Street, paying up his rent, which he had not
always been able to pay before, and went to live with
Mr. Murphy in the more spacious latitude of Bloomsbury.
During this tract of time, Grien, whose leisure doubtless
lay heavy on his hands, took to the British Museum.
Whether it was his brother, the pastor, or Mr. Murphy,
ΟΙ some other friend
friend who put him in the
way of
getting a Reader's Ticket, we know not, for the official
secrets of the British Museum are hermetically sealed.
But a Reader's Ticket he had-of course, in the name of
H. L. Grien-and he used it constantly. His heavily
seamed face, with the hair brushed straight off his forehead,
and his slight, gaunt figure, were soon well-known in the
Reading Room, and everybody who cared to know wast
aware that he was devouring books of travel and adventure
in the Southern Seas. He was preparing himself for his
literary task; but perhaps even then he had no idea of
the surprise he was preparing for the world.
One day, after trying in vain Mr. Townend and other
possible patrons, this same remarkable stranger presented
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A MODERN ROBINSON Crusoe.

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A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
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himself to Mr. Henniker Heaton, whose address is known
to all Australians, and who has been the kind friend and
helper of many a traveller from over the great water.
He appeared to be in want, and he told a tale. Yet it
was by no means the tale which we have just been setting
forth. He said he was LOUIS DE ROUGEMONT-the hero of
the most remarkable adventures a man ever lived to tell.
He had, he said, recently arrived in England from Aus-
tralia, where he had in a most marvellous way come back
to civilisation, after being lost for some thirty years
amongst the blacks. He spoke, like the walrus in "Alice
of Wonderland" of many things-
A
CC
Of why the sea is boiling hot,
And whether pigs have wings "-
A MODERN ROBINSON CRusor.
“
of pearling adventures and shipwreck; of how he had been
a great chief, and had vainly endeavoured again and again
to get back to the white men; of how he had met explorers
who were lost to human knowledge, and rescued white
women doomed to a horrible slavery; and much more to
the like effect.
Mr. Heaton was naturally interested, though sceptical.
He allowed the "explorer" to send him his MS., which was
all ready for publication, but it carried the proofs no further,
and he returned it anon. Being charitably minded he could
think of nothing so appropriate as to recommend the new
Robinson Crusoe to go and see the editor of the Wide
World Magazine. On that branch of the subject we need
say no more than that "Monsieur de Rougemont" went,
and was received with open arms.
The MS. which had been sent to Mr. Heaton was not
printed. Perhaps it was too short, or too tame. Perhaps
Crusoe never produced it at all. Anyhow, the story ex-
panded gloriously. It has already afforded thrilling matter
for five magazine numbers, and we are told there is
enough of it left to run till next May. It only remained to
settle terms, and the terms, though we need not state them
here, were handsome. No doubt Messrs. Newnes and their
editor thought they had a good thing, and after submitting
M. de Rougemont to some futile cross-questioning by experts,
who reported more or less in his favour, they treated him
magnificently and went into the speculation with a will.
As soon as M. de Rougemont had got his enterprise
well under way, his thoughts turned to his native hills.
From the depths of Soho, he sent for a tourist map, and
it was arranged that he should go and pay his brother
a visit at the parsonage of Suchy, from which he could
go and see his old mother and widowed sister-an honest
washerwoman-at Yverdon, and revisit, amongst others, his
old sweetheart, now the wife of a postmaster. After these
pious attentions, the pastor and he were to take a little
mountain air. The pastor had arranged to take clerical duty
at Zermatt, by way of holiday, and Louis was to make that his
headquarters. All this worked out delightfully. "Louis "
had a charming time at Suchy, and Lausanne, and Yverdon,
and even went over to see the farmhouse at Gressy where
he was born. In that district, of course, he was the brother
of the well-known Pastor François Grin, a scholar, a traveller,
and a tutor of English youth. At Zermatt, however, he
blossomed into the other personality, for he is recorded
in the hotel book as Monsieur Louis de Rougemont, and
he was known to various English tourists there by that
euphonious name, until his publishers cut short his holiday
by a sudden summons to England.
His proceedings on this return to his early home were
quite idyllic. He was enchanted with the parsonage. He
went to Yverdon, where his mother and elder sister sojourn in
a house belonging to the pastor. It is the modest abode
which appears in our illustration, but it bears the lofty
title of "The Lawn"-La Pelouse. His mother, of whom
he was always fond, he declared had not changed in the
least. But he did not spend much of his time upon them.
As they told our correspondent, he spent all his time with
the pastor arranging "des affaires." And here we break
off in order to give a graphic extract from the story
supplied to us by our Swiss correspondent himself.
"Here is the place' said a kinsman of the cow-buying
class, at Gressy, 'where Henri Louis was born.'
It was
an old, massive cottage with an inscription over the entry.
It was prettily covered with coarse creepers. Grin was of
a nostalgic turn. Last midsummer, he called slyly at the
home which gave him the cradle of nativity. There was
no mistake about it. Henri Louis's world-wide reputation
had reached this little paradise. Personally, I was soon
convinced. But the next step was to become documentary,
and after showing the adventurer's portrait and having it
identified, I proceeded to sift out the family story. Never
was there such a wealth of kinsfolk. They gazed plaintively
at me as a photographer pictured the cottage and its
surroundings, taken from a jumbled heap of fire-gutted ruins.
So much for Gressy. Belmont was my next stage, and
Belmont was on the whole on pleasanter lines. Henri Louis
Grin's cousin keeps a sort of café there. He was out.
Madame Emmanuel Grin, a tall, gaunt, but not unpleasant,
person, who had been evidently informed of my visit, burst
forth into all the chat of village crones, with some recollec-
tions of the lost wanderer; and of the elder Grin, the father,
I heard much. His life ended tragically. After many
nights spent in various police stations, he hanged himself
in the village Bridewell of Vallorbes.
The Grin parsonage at Suchy is prettily emblematic of
Swiss Protestant accessories. The pastor, I found, was qut.
He himself has been something of a traveller. He has preached
in London and Paris. Either Chili or Peru has felt his
wandering feet. His wife was at home, and recalled the
circumstance of her brother-in-law's visit. After he had
been here two days,' she said, 'I went away and left him
with my husband, who, I am sure, would have given him
the best of counsel.'
،
Of the local love idylls in which Henri Louis Grin
played the chief part, I choose the prettiest and most
genuine. Mme.
the now charming wife of the
postmaster of Yverdon, was in her early womanhood
affianced to the future De Rougemont.' I have her full
permission to relate what she looks upon now as a narrow
escape. Her aunt stopped the marriage. Madame laughed
CH.S.
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SANT JOAN
THE
WEARING OF THE GRIN.
"Judge of my astonishment when, not only the chiefs, but the whole nation assembled, suddenly burst into roars of eerie laughter,
!
li PHIL MA 18
98
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"De Rougemont.
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.

12
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
prettily over the Chronicle story of the pearls. None of those
rich and rare gems did she ever wear or hear of, except from
current rumour.
When he called in July last on a hot day
and appeared astonished that he excited no wondering
admiration, Aunt Laubscher,' she said, and shrugged her
shoulders, and I answered his enquiries rather frigidly.
As I looked at him my heart filled with joy when I
compared him with that of my best of husbands.'"
Grin went about with a simple minded pride to village fêtes
and shooting matches. He was seen at Ouchy, at Lausanne,
at Neuchâtel. At the sentimental interview which our corre-
spondent records, the world may be interested to know that
Crusoe was as much disillusioned as his old fiancée. His remarks
to his family and friends about her-and indeed about others
of those he met and did not like-were far from complimentary.
If we remember aright, he said the meeting with Mme. gave
him a headache. Perhaps he compared her with Yamba.
We are able to reproduce a photograph (on page 8) of
the natal farmhouse at Gressy, his visit to which our
correspondent has described. We gather that the whole
commune bristles with his cousins, but he was coy and
did not care to see much of them. But when our corre-
spondent followed in his track and exhibited the Wide
World photograph, they all recognised him joyously and
abounded in detail and anecdote. So passed a few pleasant
days; and at last, when the pastor was ready, he went off
with the eagerness of a boy, to realise his great idea of an
Alpine trip, and enjoyed himself at Zermatt, as
we have
just described.
If he had stopped at that point, all might have been well.
We all know how "vaulting ambition o'erleaps itself." Mr.
Fitzgerald conceived the brilliant idea of exploiting the
British Association, which met at Bristol. He had got, as
we have said, a couple of experts to vouch for "M. de
Rougemont," though their actual certificates have not
been published, and it is a little difficult to understand
exactly what they vouched about him. They held that he
had lived among savages; and they did not regard his
geography as of a startling character. We can only suppose,
as they are men of power with the British Association, that
their names enabled Mr. Fitzgerald and his protégé to do the
amazing thing they did—which was to arrange that not one
but two papers should be added to the agenda previously ar-
ranged, and that by reason of the importance of the occasion,
one of the biggest halls in the town should be specially taken,
so that all might hear the explorer and drink in his “contribu-
tions to science."
That was the zenith of his fame. He returned from
his triumphs to London to be fêted by many believers,
and to have a ((
good time"
generally. We are able to
give our readers a faithful sketch of him in his habit
as he lived in those palmy days, from the pen of an
accurate correspondent, who sent us some time ago the
following "indiscretion":-
"I only met the man once. It was in an Italian
restaurant. De Rougemont, I prefer the historic name,
had just dined. He was drinking lager and smoking a
cigarette. He smoked with great daintiness, merely touching
his lips with the cigarette, and laying it down after each
whiff in the saucer of his beer glass. He was no less dainty
in his drinking. There is, indeed, reason to believe that
he is very temperate in alcoholic matters.
The face at first sight is disappointing, to any one, that
is, who has seen his published portraits. It is broken up
with lines and furrows which the photographer has not
reproduced; the hair on the face has a coarser, more
grizzled and bristly appearance, the cheeks are more
haggard, the rather ape-like wrinkles on the forehead more
pronounced, the broadness of the nostrils more noticeable, and
the large shell-like ear with its indented rim more pro-
truding than in the photograph. I have heard a lady
say it was no wonder the cannibals did not eat him.
The face is, nevertheless, a striking and interesting one.
The forehead of fully medium height, broad and bulging
at the temples, set off by hair apparently fine in texture,
springing upright and curling slightly at the tips, the
eye full, though with heavy lids and somewhat lacking
in fire, the emphatic nose, and above all the singular
length and thinness of the face emphasized by the short
beard give an appearance of asceticism, nervous force, and
even intellectual power. It strikes you at once as the face
of a man who has spent his energies in the sphere of
thought and emotion, rather than in physical effort.
In repose, the features have an expression of weariness
and sadness almost pathetic. In spite of the broken lines
there is a certain softness in the face, more especially about
the eyes.
It seems that of a man who has been mis-
understood, who has met severe mental disappointments;
of a man who has dreamt dreams, never to be realised,
who has never been able to march in step with his fellows,
who has throughout life been his own enemy.
In conversation the face becomes animated and expressive.
It, so to speak, seems to dilate and loses its shrunken
appearance. You may then fancy you are in the presence
of an enthusiast, an idealist-if you like, a crank.
It is difficult to talk with the man and set him down
as coarse and brutal; it is almost equally difficult to give
him credit for being needlessly honest, candid, self-sacrificing,
or magnanimous.
His ordinary manner of speaking is not without a certain
impressiveness, and at times, especially when justifying
himself, his tones become singularly persuasive-one might
almost say sweet. Strangely enough, he speaks like a man
who has been accustomed to holding forth to great or
small audiences. There is nothing in the least indistinct
or blurred in his speech. He gives every word its full
meaning. He uses, too, considerable variety of tone, and
even at times throws out a sentence in that humorously
exaggerated colloquial manner which the best French
comedians employ with such admirable effect.
What perhaps surprises one most about the man is, in
spite of a very obvious ruggedness, a certain intellectual
refinement which appears in his manner, voice, and par-
ticularly in what he says. For instance, he spoke with
apparently unaffected disgust at the dancing and dress of
the female chorus of a certain comic opera which has
+
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
been enthusiastically acclaimed by our best critics. De Rouge-
mont said he was hurt and shocked at the degradation
of his human sisters in that piece. Affectation! Possibly.
But the very affectation of such a sentiment is proof of
a certain refinement which is none the less striking because
of its rareness at the present day.
The man has, as might be expected, extraordinary powers
of, possibly unconscious, assimilation. This shows itself at
once in the way he takes suggestions.
He spoke of his return to civilization. Hats and boots
were his chief troubles. He was asked whether the soles
of his feet did not become thickened during the years he
had gone without foot covering. It may have been fancy,
but this point did not seem to have struck him previously.
He said, however, that undoubtedly the soles of his feet
had changed a good deal. One of his hearers remarked
that he supposed the entire sole would swell and form a
soft pad about half an inch thick, something like the sole
of an india-rubber shoe. De Rougemont said that was the
case with his feet; he had a sole just like half an inch
of soft india-rubber. It was then suggested that the sole
of the foot might become in time coated with a horny
growth like a corn. De Rougemont, not apparently seeing
anything incompatible in the two suggestions, readily adopted
the second also, and said that the soles of his feet were
like an enormous corn : that was the reason why boots
were at first so uncomfortable to him.
And here it may be well to notice how unreal, at least
in his conversation, are all his descriptions, if they can be
called descriptions, of savage life. In all he tells there
is an utter absence of vividness and actuality.
The mean,
insignificant, and distressing realities of human life existing,
presumably even among savages, find no place in his
wonderful story. Everything is essentially vague, ideal,
and emotionally effective. The atmosphere is that of the
Boys' Own Magazine and Dr. Watts's poetry. M. de Rouge-
mont's savages are nobler than Rousseau's; his cannibals
are actuated by a higher altruism than our own amiable
vegetarians. They remind you of the characters in a
tragedy upon a Greek subject, written by an eighteenth
century French poet. The personages are full of the noblest
and most approved sentiments, and conduct themselves in a
strikingly well-bred manner. It is only in the matter of
costume that M. de Rougemont excels the pre-Voltairean
dramatist. But in this respect he is very obviously favoured
by the surroundings of his story.
The same impression of unreality is made by the man
himself. Can this well-bred and seemingly philanthropic
gentleman have lived 30 years among cannibals? You
look at his hands. You expect to see the fingers flattened,
the nails short and buried in the flesh, the palm
horny, the whole hand coarse, rugged, and unsightly.
Nothing of the kind. The nails are long and spotlessly
clean, the fingers delicate and tapering, the palm soft as
a woman's, and on the back the blue veins show through
the white, transparent skin.
He spoke of the effects he meant to produce upon his
audience when he lectured. He would tell them that the
13
!
first child his wife had by him she killed and ate. He
said he thought that would make a certain sensation. We
readily concurred. But the great effect would be produced
when he told them why she did this. She did it to save
his life. He was ill at the time and his wife was giving
him suck. We were left to infer that the demands he
made upon his wife's resources did not admit of any
participation by the child.
Some one asked, in as sympathetic tones as the circum-
stances would allow, what particular disease he was suffer-
ing from at the time. The question of disease did not
seem to have previously occurred to the veracious historian.
He hesitated. His interrogator suggested fever. He adopted
the suggestion. He was suffering from fever at the time.
It is to be hoped, for his wife's sake, it was not a
contagious one.
We agreed that under these distressing circumstances
his wife acted with commendable forethought. She was
certainly well advised to kill the child, but why, M. de
Rougemont, did she eat it? Surely some other method
of disposing of the body might have been adopted with-
out greatly affecting your health? Burial, for instance?
But our explorer would hear of no such prosaic procedure.
Nothing but mastication would serve the turn. 'With
us,' said M. de Rougemont, who is commendably free from
the contempt of a civilized man for the savage, and almost
always talks of himself and his cannibals by the pronouns we
and us—'with us the women always eat their first children.
They marry very young, at the age of fourteen. The
first child is usually sickly and so the mother eats it.'
The conversation, as was perhaps natural in an Italian
restaurant, where a man is lucky if he eats nothing worse than
cats'-meat, became aggressively cannibalistic. Some one asked
M. de Rougemont whether human flesh had a distinctive
flavour of its own. He answered no; it was much like
other meat, beef or mutton. His questioner seemed to take
this answer a good deal to heart. His pride was evidently
hurt. He was, obviously, annoyed to think that anyone
could eat him, or others like him, without giving him credit
for excelling sheep or oxen as an article of diet. He
contended that human flesh when properly roasted might
compare more than favourably with pork. M. de Rougemont.
was much too courteous to contradict him upon so personal
a matter, and assuaged the gentleman's wounded feelings by
saying that man's flesh, when skilfully prepared, might be
ranked as superior to pig's. Gratified, no doubt, at his
success, this defender of the edibility of his fellows then
asked whether your man, when roasted, had not a crackling
like your pig. No, no crackling,' said our expert. At
this the other again took offence, and was bold enough to
tell the scientist that he was convinced that if a healthy
human being were brought up like a pig, that is, expressly
with a view to a culinary ending, he would undoubtedly
develop crackling when adequately roasted. We were all
somewhat aghast at a man with absolutely no personal
knowledge of the subject in dispute out-facing in this way
a person of M. de Rougemont's unique experience. Our
explorer, however, seemed anxious to gratify the vanity
c-2
9)
14
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
of his opponent, and we were all heartily pleased when
this scientific observer admitted that a well-roasted man had
a kind of crackling, and were not too greatly humiliated
when he qualified his admission by saying that it differed
in some respects from the crackling of a pig. All this
humorously enough.
There were times, he told us, when he could talk in a way
that surprised himself, when he was almost inspired. It was
strange, he said, how this power came and went. At Bristol,
before the British Association, he was awkward at first, but
in a short time the words rose to his lips of their own accord.
For over two hours he talked and talked, and the people
listened breathlessly. Those who couldn't get into the place
set ladders against the walls outside and listened at the
windows. Not a stir, not a whisper among the crowded
audience! They listened spell-bound. And at the remem-
brance he laughed aloud. How the members of the British
Association must wish that they could participate in M. de
Rougemont's mirth!
And now for our philosopher's dissertation upon the divine
truths revealed to him and his cannibals.
We were standing, such is the irony of human life, upon a
stage feebly illumined by the rays of a single gas jet burning
in the prompt entrance. Above our heads hung suspended
gas battens, French flats, roller cloths, all the paraphernalia
of a modern theatre. The front of the house was dim, vague,
gloomy.
The Enlightener stood, his back to the footlights, an eager
disciple on either side of him. His hat was on his head, his
double-breasted coat of a dark slatey colour was buttoned
over his breast and clung tightly to his spare form. His
hands were thrust open into the side pockets of his coat.
And these were the words, as nearly as it is possible to
transcribe them, he spoke :
in us.
'You Christians have an impersonal God of whom, you say
yourselves, you know nothing. Your religion is in books.
We savages have a Father whom we know. He is interested
He cares for us. He knows us: we know him. How
do we know him? By the messengers he sends us. What
messengers? The spirits of our dead people. No not dead,
for there is no death. You civilized people believe in death.
We savages know there is no death. How do we know?
Because the messengers our Father sends us tell us there is no
death. They tell us of the place to which they have gone, of
the things they do there, of the life they lead.'
Now so long as M. de Rougemont kept to generalities,
everything was plain sailing. But his disciples, eager for
knowledge suitable to their intellectual powers, asked a mass
of prosaic questions.
And then the sage went further.
But how can one follow him through his intellectual
ramblings.
You must set to work to imitate his methods, if you want to
get some idea of the result. Fill your mind then with tales of
adventure, with the superstitions of savages, with the mysteries
of theosophy and, above all, modern spiritualism, induce the
proper mental state as best you may, seek out a sympathetic
audience, and let yourself go. You will then, perhaps, find
yourself talking very learnedly of naked cannibals sitting in
circles and holding spiritualistic séances, with all the cere-
monies usual at such intellectual gatherings; of savages, not
dead, but digested, appearing at the psychological moment
before the eyes of their friends, who have dined off them a
little previously, and, to the awe and admiration of the
assembled multitude, indulging in that peculiarly unintellectual
conversation which characterises the spirits of even the wisest
men when they return after a temporary absence from this
earth of ours. You may then, perhaps, proceed to tell of dead
cannibals at one moment rollicking over happy hunting fields,
and at the next revisiting the glimpses of the moon in the
shape of bird or beast or tree. And so on, as long as the
fit lasts.
If you can conceive yourself uncanny enough to continue
in this strain indefinitely, and with every outward sign of a
sincere inward belief in the appalling gibberish you are
talking, you will then have a faithful picture of a man who
has lectured before the British Association discoursing upon
the divine truths revealed to him and his cannibals. You
refuse to believe it? So should I in your place. It's true,
all the same. Absolutely!"
Down to this time, so far as we know, not a single one
of Crusoe's verifiable statements had ever been tested by any
inquiry at the places or among the persons named. Mr.
Carnegie and Mr. Streeter, two well-known and accredited
names in Australian pearling and travel, had cross-questioned
him, and absolutely disbelieved him. He had given and was
ready enough to give a place and date of his birth, a name for
his father and his mother, an account of where he lived and
where he went to school and how he left his home. He was
prepared to name the ship he sailed in, and that other
wondrous ship to which the "rescued girls" belonged. He
was fluent about his travels in Australia, and he had, of
course, to give some account of where he was and what he
did after he returned to the haunts of civilized men. Any
one of these clues would have betrayed him, but no one
followed them; and amazing assurance seemed to be master
of the situation.
One little hitch, however, did occur. He was asked at the
Association to give some words of the language of the tribes
among whom he lived and ruled so long, and the answer was
not convincing. Pressed on the subject in our office, he
excused himself on the amazing ground that the language
might reveal the identity of the tribe, and so enable the
locality to be found; and that as he and Mr. Murphy had got
up a "syndicate" to realize the gold which he had seen in
this astounding country, this syndicate had forbidden him to
disclose the aboriginal vocabulary. All this Mr. Murphy
with his own hand solemnly wrote to the Daily Chronicle.
But we need hardly say that the vocabulary, the gold, and
the syndicate were all moonshine!
Others who knew Australia-such as Mr. Louis Becke
and Mr. Carnegie were put upon suspicion by the
internal evidence of ignorance and invention in his tale.
The turtle story, which is by no means the most incredible
thing in the narrative, aroused some eritics, and the tale of
the swim in which he saw land at ten miles distance, and of
·
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
his passing day after day without water, attracted others.
Later on the "flying wombat" roused the naturalists, and
things in general became "a little mixed."
a little mixed." At that point, it
occurred to us that as neither the scientific authorities nor
the police-not to speak of the publishers-seemed likely to
solve the mystery, it was time for journalism to face it.
With a perfectly open mind, we invited M. de Rougemont
to come to this office and clear the matter up. He came and
talked with rare aplomb. Mr. Louis Becke, for example, who
met him in our presence, was ingeniously bluffed, and the
"New Crusoe" went off beaming with triumph. And yet
with all his cleverness his first answers gave him hopelessly
away. Here is the shorthand account, as published at the
time (in the Chronicle of September 15), of his answers as
to his identity and birth:
Editor: Will you give me the correct names of both your parents,
and their birth-place?
M. de Rougemont: Yes; Paris. My father's name was Samuel
Emanuel de Rougemont, and my mother's Jeanne.
Editor: And the location of your father's place of business?
M. de Rougemont: I can only give you Paris. I think it was in
the Boulevard Haussmann. But 1 left there too young to remember.
My father was a merchant. He did not keep a shop. Yes, it was a
warehouse. He sold all sorts of things, but I can only remember
boots. I was born on Nov. 9, 1844. I cannot tell you where I was
registered. I think it was where I was baptised; that was at the
Madeleine.
Editor: How were you taught [Fnglish]?
M. de Rougemont: By speaking it. By ear first, and then by book.
At my school in Vevey I was in constant association with English
boys, and also at Lausanne. It was for this reason. I was a born
fighter, and I got my best thrashings from English boys.
Our correspondent in Paris promptly looked up the registers
at the Madeleine, and also the general registers of births for
Paris, and found that no such baptism or birth was recorded.
A hundred other circumstances combined to discredit the tale,
and finally, to make a long story short, our information
directed us to the shores of Lake Neuchâtel, and revealed to
us the name of "H. L. Grien," which he had constantly used
in London until his momentous call on Mr. Henniker Heaton
in his more aristocratic character. The result of our search
was announced in the Chronicle of October 7, as follows:
Who is "De Pougemont?"
Well, his name is not Louis de Rougemont.
It is Henri Louis Grin.
He was not born in Paris.
His father had not a warehouse or a shop in the Boulevard
Haussmann.
He has no right to bear the name of De Rougemont, and never had.
After inquiries in France, Switzerland and elsewhere, we are convinced
that he is Swiss by nationality, and that he was born near Yverdon, a
town in the Canton Vaud, on the borders of Lake Neuchâtel.
The year of his birth was not, as he states, 1844, but 1847.
He has had beyond doubt an interesting and adventurous career.
But it is not the career described in the Wide World Magazine.
After that announcement information poured in upon us.
We were engaged night and day collating statements, follow-
ing clues, cabling to Australia for confirmation, directing
agents in Switzerland and elsewhere. The results are given
in the following narrative which appeared under the title
of "The Swiss Family Grin" in the Chronicle of October 8
and the following days. It was not wholly consecutive at
15
first because we gave the information as it reached us, Lut
it is here adjusted into a more consecutive account, for
every part of which we hold the proofs.
On the borders of the lake of Neuchátel, about the year
1847, there lived a farmer of the name of Antoine Samuel
Emanuel Grin and his wife Jeanne. The story, among
those who knew them, is that the family had possessed some
property in the communes of Belmont and Gressy, but that
they had come down in the world. It was also said that
there was a strain of Jewish blood among them: a circum-
stance which may account for the names which M. de
Rougemont' furnished to us-almost correctly as to the
Christian names of his father, and with absolute accuracy as
to that of his mother-when he was endeavouring to persuade
us that he was born in Paris. [But this Jewish theory, we
should add, is probably baseless; the real fountain of the
names being the Swiss Old Testament.]
The name Grin is not an uncommon one in that district.
There is said to have been another Louis Grin, a relation
of the family in question, who is stated to have come to
London and settled in business here. The identity, however,
of Henri Louis, the son of Antoine, is established to our
satisfaction.
He was born a little over fifty years ago. He was a
sharp boy, no boubt; but his educational advantages were
much less than those which are claimed for the gentleman
who describes himself as the son of a wholesale shoemaker
in the Boulevard Haussmann, then unbuilt. Henri Louis had
not the advantage of learning English by having his head
punched by English boys at the best boarding schools of
Switzerland. On the contrary, he received a scanty training
at the école-primaire of his native canton.
When he was about ten years old he appears to have
removed with his family to Yverdon, where his father as
'charretier de ville' had some work to do for the town.
The family, we are informed, was large. Henri is said to have
helped his father in his business until he was about seven-
teen years old—that is, until about the year 1863 or 1864.
Curiously enough, the true story of Grin at this point coin-
cides, as it does at a few other points, with the adventures
of M. de Rougemont.' If the local evidence can be trusted,
it is quite true that the lad left his parents and his home
on account of a quarrel with his mother; that for a time
he was lost sight of; and that his people gave him up for
dead.
It is also true that during his absence from home he had
adventures, but they were not, as we have observed, the
adventures described in the Wide World Magazine. The
fact is that when he left the Canton Vaud and set out to
seek his fortune he was lucky enough to obtain a situation
as courier to a well-known actress, with whom he travelled
over half the world, including in particular England, Italy,
and America. Those who knew him, smile at the idea that
he knew any English to speak of when he left home; but
he is just the kind of man who would learn a language
quickly, and his experience as a courier was probably a
more efficient education than pugilistic intercourse with
imaginary English schoolboys.
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18
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Things went smoothly with him for some years. It is
said that he revisited his native place, and made it up with
his parents. We imagine that he lived from time to time
in England. He was, presumably, useful to the actress
when she travelled, and she kept him in her service for
some time. In the end there was a separation, and he
started off on a new career."
The "actress," as we mentioned before, was no less a person
than Fanny Kemble. She somehow took an interest in the
clever, ambitious, fantastical peasant lad, who offered himself
as her servant, and whose portrait, as he was about that age,
we are now able by a curious accident to reproduce en p. 17.
We need not stay to work out the contrast (which we
developed at the time) between his real start in travelling and
the Wide World account of it. But we recall a point or two:
"He says, 'he was born in Paris in 1844'-which is dis-
proved-and that his father was a fairly prosperous man of
business.' We regret to tarnish the memory of the late
Samuel Emmanuel-but the fact is that he drank the modest
means the family possessed. The adventurer declares that
when he left Switzerland for 'Cairo' and 'Singapore,' his
mother gave him 'about 7,000 francs.' Madame Jeanne was
a good woman-we need not use the past tense, for she is still
alive—but the fact is that she had not 700 pence to give
him, when, as we stated on Saturday, he left home, not as
an independent gentleman, but as a travelling servant. That
he was ever in Singapore, where he is said to have met his
lost friend Jensen, we do not at all believe. If he ever saw
Cairo, it was as the actress's footman."
We had said that the Swiss courier did well, and that
finally he got a place in "the retinue of a statesman. At
least, it is in that way that he turned up in Australia in the
early seventies, about the date when M. de Rougemont'
would have us suppose he was well-settled among the
Aborigines with his black wife and his pathetic children."
But in the Chronicle of October 10, with fuller information,
we proceeded to give a further chapter of his history, as
follows:
"Henri ultimately lost his place-it matters not how. He
told his friends, we believe, that the actress had a temper,
which is probable enough. She was certainly attached to him.
But we can throw further light on his career in the servants'
hall by reason of the details just communicated to us by a mem-
ber of another of the households he honoured with his service.
Our readers may have been struck by the odd request which
we printed under this heading in a recent issue, asking the
gentleman who was cut off while he was speaking to us on the
telephone to favour us with his name and address. This was
one of the many odd incidents of our quest for truth in this
singular affair. A gentleman had just informed us on the
telephone that he knew the man perfectly well, and that our
identification was quite right, when he was cut off from us by
the vagaries of the telephone service. We had not been able
to get his address, and we had no clue to him whatever, except
the method of advertisement. Presently, however, he replied,
and he has courteously given us a full account of his remem-
brances, which fitted in every detail with what we had
already heard. The household in question was that of a Swiss
10.
banker or merchant in London, named M. Miéville. The
house is well known, and of high standing. Grin had had
an intermediate place after leaving Fanny Kemble, as to
which we may say more anon. But his engagement by M.
Miéville was accounted for in part by the simple fact that
that gentleman had a house at Yverdon, and came there for
the summer. His family still inhabit that house-it is next
door to the hotel-and they knew and now know all about the
family of the unfortunate Antoine Samuel Emmanuel, for
whose more deserving members they have always shown a
practical sympathy.
Henri Louis entered their household in or soon after 1870.
He was then known by his own name of Grin, and was
commonly called 'Louis.' Owing to his superior ways he
was by no means popular with the other servants, but being a
clever, astute, and exceedingly useful man, especially as a
courier, M. Miéville appreciated his services. His master was
a great traveller. He spent a great deal of his time abroad,
and found Louis, who always accompanied him, exceedingly
useful in his travels. At the same time, he did not like the
man, on account of his overbearing ways. In fact, the old
gentleman used to say, 'It is Louis who is the master, and I
the servant!' Louis was also particularly offensive in his
demeanour towards such people as hotel servants and Customs
officials; and in the latter connection an amusing instance of
Grin's discomfiture owing to his high-handed ways occurred.
He was in attendance upon his master as usual on one occasion
when crossing the frontier at Pontarlier, where the Customs
officials were making their usual investigations. When Grin's
turn for inspection came the officers were so much annoyed by
his insolence that they insisted, contrary to their custom, on
searching his baggage to the bottom, and in one of his boxes
they discovered several brand new gold watches, for which
Master Louis had the pleasure of paying a fine of 700 francs!
In the Miéville family it is perfectly well known that when
'Louis' left their service he went in a similar capacity, as
we have already stated, to Australia. The gentleman who
rang us up on the telephone informs our representative that
this same Grin called for M. Miéville, who is dead, in the
present year; and that he saw our informant, who finally
remembered him as the lad who had often waited behind
his chair The caller, it is needless to add, was 'M. de
Rougemont.'
It is only necessary to say further that the Miéville family
describe this ambitious footman just in the manner in which
he has been described already, as a 'pale-faced young man
with a large forehead,' and that they credit him in
particular with a devouring taste for reading, and are under
the impression that even at that time he was filling his mind
with books of travel, and nursing a secret taste for adventures."
We then passed to`his arrival in Australia, as to the exact
details of which, for a reason to be mentioned presently,
our information, though absolutely reliable, was as yet
imperfect.
“At a date which we have not exactly specified, but which
we believe to be in the latter part of 1874, the official we have
already referred to landed in Australia. Among his house-
hold the curious might have remarked the same pale and thin
>
|
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUsoe.
young man with the large forehead of whom we have been
speaking. Very opportunely our friend Henri Louis Grin had
heard from a friend just as he was losing his place in the
Miéville family that there was a chance of a position as foot-
man in the family of this gentleman, who was going out to
the colony. This exactly suited his tastes and ambitions, and
he made interest to get the place. He had a sweetheart in
his native village, but the engagement was broken and he
passed away upon his travels, and from that time onward until
the present year it does not appear that any of his family ever
saw his face again.
In about a year, he lost his place. By that time, however,
he had saved a modest sum of money. Perhaps the 'seven
thousand francs' which are mentioned in the adventures of
Louis de Rougemont really represented the savings of Louis
Grin. His love of adventure had at last a freer scope. He
was left to live by his wits, and from that time onward he
has tried all manner of ways of living in the Australasian
continent.
He drifted about a great deal, but he made Western
Australia his headquarters for a time. Apparently it was
from that colony that he started pearl-fishing, for, oddly
enough, it is true that he was a pearl fisher.
More than that, we are credibly informed that Peter Jensen
is a real person, and was the associate of our friend the
ex-courier in some of his pearling experiences. But the date
assigned by M. de Rougemont to the pearling voyage, which
is 1864, is grievously incorrect. Our friend Grin did not start
pearling either with Jensen or anybody else until about ten
years later.
He was, we gather, naturalised as a British subject some-
where about 1874 for the purpose of enabling him to carry out
his pearl-fishing plans, and he started within a year from that
date a pearl-fishing syndicate in Perth. The craft in the
Wide World illustrations is a schooner. According to our
information, the vessel which was run by the syndicate was a
cutter—but we do not insist on this, as there might have been
different vessels at different times. It is quite clear from our
information that Grin and his friends made some successful
expeditions, because we have ascertained that he actually sent
some presents of pearls home to his native village—we hope
some reached the deserted sweetheart.
We gather that it was about this time that Grin began to
modify his name, for the sake of English ears, and described
himself as Grien, or Green. After a few successful voyages,
he started out, apparently with the faithful Jensen, and it may
be even that they were bound, as M. de Rougemont says, for
the shores of New Guinea. What is certain is that the vessel
was wrecked. Whether there was any foundation for the
wonderful adventures which accompanied the wreck in the
Wide World Magazine must be left to the credulity of the
reader, because from the nature of the case there is no
available witness except the author of the tale.
It appears, however—and we record the fact as strange-to
be quite true that after this shipwreck Grien, or Green, was
lost to view for a time. The pearls ceased to arrive in the
little town by the shores of Lake Neuchâtel. Month after
month passed and no letters came. The family were in
19
despair, and the eldest brother, who is now a pastor in the
canton, and who is, by the way, also known in London, made
inquiries, as we gather, in Sydney and in Perth and elsewhere,
but he found no clue. The man was lost. We do not profess
to fix an exact date, but we believe that the shipwreck was in
1875 or 1876, and that Grien was lost to the ordinary ways of
civilization until about 1880-say for something under three
years, instead of thirty. M. de Rougemont has, in fact, added
a zero to the truth."
At that time we thought that this history of his disappear-
ance, following on the shipwreck of the pearling venture,
might have meant a modest residence among the blacks. But
we are now satisfied that he never lived among them at all,
unless it was as sojourners on the frontier of Australian
civilization do live in touch with natives from time to time, so
as to pick up a certain scrappy knowledge of their ways.
Such people annex "black wives." But we are satisfied that
Mrs. Yamba is a myth. As to her, we gather that he told some
of his family that although the tale in general was nonsense yet
he had lived among the natives for a while, and had had a wife
whom be left alive in the bush. But we regret that we are now
forced to disbelieve the whole story, by reason not only of the
dates at which we can trace our hero, but also of the internal
evidence which the earlier numbers of the Wide World story
have afforded as to his ignorance of the real facts of native
life. On this point we are absolutely confirmed by the two
best known Australian explorers.
We can only give samples of such a kind of proof, but the
following may serve.
(C
His adventures in the earlier numbers of his tale are
supposed to be among the natives near the Cambridge Gulf.
In fact, the incidents of native life he talks of, so far as they
are possible at all, are mainly a jumble of names and things
taken with heedless promiscuity from North Queensland, the
New Hebrides, and other regions, whose native habits have
nothing in common with the Cambridge Gulf or with one
another. Attention has often been called to the fact that
the Wide World Australians use bows and arrows and
possess a fleet of catamarans." Such things are never
found on the Australian coast in question. The Wide World
Crusoe uses the words humpy, waddy, corroborree, and
boomerang, which do not exist in the aboriginal lan-
guage of that Rougemont district. Not only are there no
catamarans on the coast in question, but the canoes he
represents are equally impossible. They belong in fact to
New Guinea. To meet a family of North Australian natives
on a catamaran 150 miles from shore would be quite as
impossible as to meet a flying wombat.
Nothing, however, is more remarkable than his startling
blunder about their weapons. If he had landed among the
tribes of the Cambridge Gulf, he would not have seen a
boomerang; but he would have seen in every man's hand a
very remarkable weapon with which he has not the least
acquaintance. That is the spear thrown not by hand but by
a throwing stick or womerah. The spears are not as he says
5 feet long, but from 8 to 11 feet, with wooden barbed prongs.
He describes the shaft vaguely but safely as of "some light
hard wood." It is, in fact, a notable wood, and one he would
20
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mention if he knew it, viz., the bamboo. The salient fact,
however, which he could not have failed to notice if he had
lived among these tribes even for a month, is the existence and
use of the womerah. Every native of the district would
carry it like a kind of walking stick, even when he had put
his spear aside. Our illustrations will show the way he uses
it for throwing. The butt end of the spear lies into a crutch
at the end of the womerah, and by a very dexterous move-
ment of his hand and fingers the native aims the spear and
shoots it from the throwing-stick with the same movement.
No one who saw it could ever forget it. On that head it is,
perhaps, only necessary to add that the use of shields to cover
the body, which is a vital part of his alleged adventures,
comes from North Queensland, and is unknown amongst the
natives whom he pretends to describe.
As to their cannibalism he is also mistaken, as the natives
in question really resort to it only when they are driven by
hunger, generally towards the end of the annual drought.
Curiously enough, the people they first eat are half-breed
children, for they regard any alliance between a white and a
black with horror. They are not even naked, as M. de Rouge-
mont pretends. The notion that he should be received
among them and given food is quite credible; but the notion
that his possessions should be left to him, and that he should
become "a chief," is as incredible as anything in Jules Verne.
Sad to say, even the name of his faithful Yamba is one of his
blunders. Such a form of name might conceivably occur in
other parts of native Australia, but not at all among the
tribes where he says he found his bride. One amazing error
he makes, which, we are assured, the veriest novice in bush-
craft would have avoided. He says the natives were amazed
to see his footprints "planted squarely down," since their own
tracks were "half impressions" only. The fact is that it is
the white man, who has worn boots, whose footprints are "half-
impressions," and by that his tracks are well known in the
learning of the bush.
Only one other point we need add. "M. de Rougemont "
assures us that the chief way in which he acquired his
ascendency over the untutored savages was by means of his
acrobatic agility. We have seen "M. de Rougemont," and
although we have not either seen or heard of his doing
any gymnastic feats, we are prepared to be told he is an
active man.
But if he outshone these natives in that line he
must be a most astonishing person. For example, our
illustration (which, like the others, is a Kodak taken on the
spot among these very natives), shows the way in which they
are accustomed to climb a bare tree. We should like to see
"M. de Rougemont" try the same feat on any convenient
telegraph post, or on one of the pillars of his next lecture
hall.
The fact is that to those who really have lived in camp with
the aborigines of the district in which this man professes to
have been cast away, it is evident from a hundred details
that the writer does not really know the native life at all.
We proceed, however, to sketch what we know of his life
during the period of his real Australian adventures, the
beginning of which we can now fix with certainty at the
end of 1874.
21
We outlined this career on October 10, according to our
then information, as follows :
"What is certain is that Mr. H. L. Grin has spent a great
many years in various occupations on the Australian cou-
tinent, and, so far as we can learn at present, he has not
mentioned the interesting facts as to Yamba and the black
family to his friends and associates out there.
We find some indications that he may have told before
the story of the weapons tipped with gold, and may have
suggested to the gobemouches the desirability of forming
syndicates, like that of which Mr. Murphy is a distinguished
member, for securing the gold claims which he had 'discover-
ed.' In Australia, however, they have heard these things
before? Our friend is, in fact, well known at the Antipodes
for inventing marvellous projects and floating wild-cat
schemes. He has, as we learn from the Sydney Telegraph,
formed various mining syndicates at different times, which
have uniformly failed. On one occasion he appears to have
sent a report to Sydney that he had made a rich find of
gold in North Queensland, but nothing more was heard of it.
We have ourselves proof positive that he was in Queensland
in 1888 and 1889, and that he did not find it a success.
For the most part, however, his wanderings and projects.
seem to have centred on. Sydney, where he had placed his
affections, if not before, at least after his return from the
desert, upon a certain young lady who belonged to a family
of fair position in the town. About 1880 or 1881 they were
married-[it will be seen hereafter that they met in 1881 and
were married in 1882]—and we have already published a
cable from the Sydney Telegraph, which states that the wife is
still to be found in Sydney, and that there is a family of
several children, the eldest of whom is about fourteen.
We have now in our hands, as a matter of fact, absolute
proof that M. de Rougemont, alias H. L. Grin, had a daughter
born to him of this marriage in 1882, another born in 1885,
and a
son in 1888, and that there were other children
besides."
We are now able to fill up these outlines with ample par-
ticulars. There was, as we have said, a certain difficulty in
our earlier information about the "statesman" with whom
the Swiss courier went to the Antipodes. We had reason
to believe his name was Robinson; but unluckily there were,
about that time, more Robinsons than one who went out as
Colonial Governors. Sir Hercules Robinson himself went as
governor to Sydney about that time, but it appeared that he
was not the man. We are at last able to fix the identity of
the master, and thereby also of the servant. It was with
Sir W. C. Robinson, who arrived out as Governor of Western
Australia in January, 1875, that H. L. Grin, lately a servant of
the Miévilles, made the acquaintance of the Southern Seas. We
are grieved to find, however, that when we called him a “foot-
"in our former account, we did him an injustice. A
footman he had been in his earlier career. But Lady Robinson
tells us that he came to them in the more exalted capacity of
butler. Our artist illustrates the position, but the lady in the
sketch, we ought to say, is not a portrait of Lady Robinson.
Lady Robinson herself is alive, and she has been good enough
to state to us freely that she remembers the man well-that he
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24
was exactly the ambitious and rather insolent person de-
scribed and she recognizes the youthful portrait we have
reproduced on page 17, allowing for the difference of
years. Another official in the late Governor's service also
recognised “de Rougemont" as Lady Butler's former butler.
Grin was with the Governor's household in Perth, and
remained there for a short time in domestic service. Then
there was trouble and he left, apparently in 1875. He had
saved a little money, as we said, and started pearling,
not from Singapore, but apparently from Freemantle. Lady
Robinson tells us that "Louis" was "very conceited and
somewhat troublesome;" her memory recalls after all these
years his "puck-like ears and very dark eyes." She remem-
bers hearing, after he left her house, for reasons which we need
not tell, that he had gone pearling; that the boat in which he
sailed was wrecked; and that some of the party were drowned,
and others stranded on the mainland.
The cables from Australia have long since led us to narrow
down the time of Grien's disappearance to a space much less
than even the three years which we originally allowed. For we
learn from them that the cutter of which Grien became the
owner, after he left the Governor's service, was a little 11 ton
boat named the Ada, which was reported missing in 1877; and
that Grien had again turned up in Sydney destitute in 1879, and
got hold of another craft to go pearling again in the neigh-
hood of The Torres Straits. The Australian papers which
are since to hand give us many details. We cannot personally
vouch for their entire accuracy, but they profess to be based
on investigations of Australian detectives, and in par-
ticular of Detective Rochaix, an officer having intimate
acquaintance with the foreign population of Sydney.
The following extracts from the Sydney Evening News of
September 28, give the outset of the story:-
"Grien was in West Australia about 1875. There he was
owner and registered master of an 11 ton cutter called the Ada,
which was built at Freemantle, and registered at Perth. Pre-
sumably Grien, whose name was then written Louis Grien'
in the shipping register, was engaged in the pearl-fishing
industry. He appears to have been an occasional visitor
to the chief port of West Australia until about the end
of 1876. After this neither Grien nor the cutter Ada was
heard of again in West Australian waters, and the little
vessel was posted as missing in February, 1877. In the
shipping register for that year, which a 'News' reporter
inspected yesterday at the shipping office, there is an
entry among the list of missing vessels of the 'Ada, cutter,
11 tons, Louis Grien, master.'
> ""
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
((
A further chapter is suggested by the following letter
which appeared in the Western Mail of Perth, on October
7.- Mr. Thos. W. Williams, of 25, Victoria Street, Perth,
wrote to us on September 30: A few facts relating to
Henri Louis Grien, which came under my personal ex-
perience, may interest you. I will tell you how I met him.
About 1878 six men walked into Cooktown, stating that
they had walked overland from the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Their boots were too new to bear out the assertion, and
altogether they were discredited. These men stated that
they had struck the coast 30 or 40 miles north of Cooktown,
and had walked down the coast. They reported a cutter with
A p
one man on board, wind-bound to the north of Cape Bedford.
The pilot boat was sent to his assistance, and the Ada, with
the man H. L. Grien, was brought into Cooktown, where he
remained many weeks. He reported having been attacked by
the blacks, and his four companions speared. He escaped a
similar fate by closing down his hatch, and frequently the
blacks came on board during the six weeks he was wind-
bound and danced on his deck. One of the men (Thompson
by name) spoke French fluently, and explained that, when six
years old, he had gone to Mauritius, but he spoke broad
Scotch.""
The Sydney Evening News takes up the tale as follows:-
"Shortly after the closing of the Sydney Exhibition, there
was a wine shop in King Street opposite the Theatre Royal,
and which was kept by Messrs. Gullani Brothers, who are
at present fruit-growers at Ryde. It was a rendezvous for
the cosmopolitan element of the city, and much frequented
by Swiss, French, and Germans. Here one fine day Grien
put in an appearance. Among those who greeted the
stranger, and who recognised in him a countryman, was
M. Adolphe Guymuller, who is now proprietor of Adolphe's
Café, 24, Hunter Street, Sydney. Grien, who was hard up,
said that he had been pearl-shelling in Torres Straits, and
had contracted fever and ague. He also told Guymuller
that he had had the misfortune to lose his own vessel in
the trade, which had rendered him penniless. M. Adolphe,
to give him the name by which he is best known, was at
this time chef at Weber's Post Office Hotel, York Street.
Shortly after his meeting with Grien, the latter visited him
at the hotel and asked to be given employment in some
capacity. M. Adolphe took pity upon him and was suc-
cessful in obtaining him employment in the hotel kitchen.
A fortnight of this, however, sufficed for Grien."
According to the same account, Grien turned up again
after some time, and explained to Adolphe that "a Sydney
firm had undertaken to equip and fit out a vessel for
pearl-fishing in the Straits, provided five others joined him.
He was to be chief of the expedition. The members of
the party were to contribute £50 apiece except the leader,
who was
to have a share in the vessel. M. Adolphe
decided to have nothing to do with the undertaking.
Grien got another Swiss named Ruchty to join him. The
latter was well known to Adolphe, having been manager
of Emerson's oyster saloon in the eastern pavilion at the
Sydney Exhibition. Grien gave a glowing account of the
fortune the party would make under his leadership, and
told a number of his friends that they would regret their
action. Grien's countrymen, except Ruchty, fought shy of
the whole affair. But Grien was not to be baffled, and
he succeeded in persuading four Englishmen to accompany
the little vessel, which set sail shortly afterwards."
.
Sometime afterwards Adolphe is reported to have said
that "Ruchty turned up in Sydney one day, looking
considerably the worse for wear. When asked about the
expedition, he explained that the vessel had been wrecked
on a reef, and the party had lost everything, even to their
personal effects. The crew had to take to the boats, and
they had been two days without food and water before
they were picked up." According to Ruchty, the disaster
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25

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26
A MODERN ROBINSON Crusoe.
occurred in the Gulf of Carpentaria. The same authority
stated that “the vessel that conveyed them from Sydney had
about the choicest assortment of ruffians on board that he
had ever met or heard of. Ruchty, who has long since
quitted Australia, told how ere the pearler was well clear
of Sydney Heads the crew took to quarrelling among
themselves. They were all armed, and revolvers were
drawn on the slightest provocation. Ruchty was terrified
at the state of affairs that prevailed. Grien and himself
slept in a cabin aft. Often they were afraid to venture
on deck lest they should be shot. The door was kept
locked, and they always had a revolver handy and slept
with one eye open.' At night the crew would take to
blazing away at each other, but, fortunately, their marksman-
ship would appear to have been as wild as their moral
code. Adolphe listened to his friend's tale of woe, and
Ruchty had not been many days in Sydney before another
surprise was in store for the former. Grien also made his
appearance, battered and impecunious. But if one 'spec'
had proved disastrous, why should not another succeed.
So reasoned Grien. He obtained work soliciting orders
for photographic enlargements. Soon he claimed to have
discovered a new process of enamelling the pictures. There
was money in it, he told his friends, and all he wanted was
little capital to take him to France and perfect his
invention. But Grien's acquaintances had now got used to
that individual's propensity for rushing into 'wild-cat
schemes,' and with the knowledge of his latest South Sea
bubble' fresh in their memory, they were deaf to all
appeals for pecuniary aid, or for the wherewithal to float
a company to push his enamelling process."
a
Of Grin (or Grien) himself, in his subsequent Australian
career, we catch a great number of glimpses; though from the
very nature of his history, a connected account of it is almost
impossible. He was always on the move, and never for
long did any settled work. He made his white wife's
acquaintance by the simple, unromantic method of going
into the shop where she was serving, to buy some odds and
ends. She was young then-the Australian papers say "about
15," and the shop is described as "a fancy goods shop in
George Street North, opposite the Old Ordnance Stores." He
was fascinated, and came again. He left Sydney for a while,
then he returned, renewed acquaintance, and in 1882 was duly
married by the late Reverend Robert Colley of Newtown.
His wife and family seem to have lived in or near Sydney
ever since, but his stay, as the Sydney cable told us at an
early stage of our inquiries, was chequered by frequent
absences. When his son was dying, he was away, apparently
in Queensland, and was recalled. He said that he had found
a gold claim of wondrous wealth in the north, but somebody
had "jumped it." Neither that claim, nor anything else, ever
came off. He had at one time, for awhile, a small photo-
grapher's business in Sydney, but that came to an end. In
In later years, he wandered to and fro as a canvasser, at one
time, as we have said and as he himself told us in the first
interview, for Mr. Murphy; but contrary to what he then told
us, he used his own name. We have lately received two stray
credit notes made out for and signed by him (as H. L. Grien),
(
in 1889, by a draper of Sydney for whom he was then work-
ing. There is said to be a balance owing by H. L. Grien
in that quarter, but that may be an unjust aspersion.
Finally, after much domestic disagreement, not long after
the failure of the diving bell experiment in Sydney
Harbour, and about 18 months before "M. de Rouge-
mont" blossomed into fame, Mr. H. L. Grien went away,
leaving his wife and family in poor rooms in a suburb
of Sydney, and "left no address." The children are
described as delicate and requiring medical care, and they
had a hard time. For a long time afterwards he did not con-
tribute to their support. They and their friends moved
the police, proceedings were taken against him, and when
these strange tales made M. de Rougemont famous in London,
Mr. H. L. Grien was "wanted" in Sydney. To do him
justice, however, as soon as he had money, he forwarded
a little-not, be it observed, in his own name either as
Grien or Rougemont, but through his relatives, who did
not even then disclose to the unhappy woman left behind
the address of her astounding spouse.
As soon as the Wide World Magazine reached Sydney,
a dramatic thing came about. The picture of the “explorer"
was duly set up in a little book shop close to where Mrs.
Grien was living. Her daughter came along by pure chance,
looked in from curiosity, and stood spell bound. "That,"
she cried "is not M. de Rougemont-that is my father!"
Then followed interviews, in' which Mrs. Grien and her
children fully confirmed, so far as their knowledge went,
the facts we have narrated here. Judging from her letters,
and from Mr. Grien's own account of her to his old
sweetheart, she has been a good mother and a good wife.
The first discussion of the London adventures of "M. de
Rougemont" with Mrs. H. L. Grien is narrated as follows in
the Sydney Daily Telegraph of September 21. The poor lady
seems to have covered her husband as far as she well could.
We give the Sydney reporter's narrative as it comes, for it
synchronizes marvellously with our own independent in-
formation. We may add that the Sydney reporter knew
nothing at that time of our own discoveries.
"The lady admitted," he says, "that she was Mrs. Louis
Grien, and one glance at the portrait produced convinced
her that 'Louis de Rougemont' was her husband, from whom,
as we stated last week, she had been separated for a year
or two.
There could be no doubt, said Mrs. Grien, that the
portrait was that of her husband. Moreover, she had
news that he was at the other side of the world, having
last been heard of through his brother, a clergyman in
Switzerland, who had written telling her that he had
been informed of her separation from her husband, who
had just been on a visit to him, at a place called
Yverdon, and inquiring kindly as to the children. Nothing,
however, was mentioned of Grien having been in London,
or of his intending to go there, though the letter was
dated July 5 of this year. Mrs. Grien scouted the
suggestion that the portrait might be that of someone
very like her husband-a twin brother, for instance.
She also gave a valid explanation of the assumption by
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"I felt that I must continually be doing something to astonish the natives."-De Rougemont.
27


28
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Grien of the pen name of Rougemont. There were four
children by the marriage. The eldest boy 'De Courcey
Grien' died about two or three years ago. The second
son is named 'Cecil
'Cecil Rougemont Grien,' after an old
friend or distant relative of his father's. This fact would
seem to establish the identity beyond doubt."
The summary of the tales which at once poured in upon
the same newspaper is given by them as follows:-
"A gentleman, who follows the profession of an assayer
within a few yards of this office, showed our representa-
tive a number of entries in his books, the earliest dating
ten years back, where he had assayed valuable samples for
Grien. He remembers him well, as also the stories which
he used to tell of hairbreadth encounters with the blacks
up North,' and of his alleged discovery of a mountain
of gold in the interior. Grien had a penchant for forming
mining syndicates, but they usually fell through before the
hidden treasure got unearthed. In one case mentioned, the
members of a syndicate sent Grien to report on a rich
find,' which he had induced them to agree to work in
North Queensland. Like the doves from the Ark, however,
Grien did not return. Another man was sent in quest
of Grien, and he, in turn, had to be inquired for.”
And so
on through many tales of various devices and
occupations we find the same fluent liar, the same shifty
Ulysses.
We ought to add, lest our silence may be misconceived,
that not only his wild story about "Blanche and Gladys"
Rogers, but also his tale about his meeting with Gibson, the
lost explorer, is absolutely exploded. All the credible
Australian explorers, such as Mr. Tietkens and Mr. Favenc,
I
who have written on the subject, have proved that the alleged
finding of Gibson was absurd. No Australian paper, no
Australian traveller has given him credit.
One thing only remains to say, and the public have
known it long ago from the Daily Chronicle. The story
of the missing girls "Blanche and Gladys Rogers" we
from the first endeavoured to test by every possible clue
which "M. de Rougemont" could give us. We found no
such girls, no such captain, no such vessel, no such wreck.
Lloyd's was searched, and returned a negative answer. We
tracked one falsehood after another; each one breaking in
our hands. But the Sydney information cleared up the whole
matter in the simplest way. The girl who identified her
father's picture was BLANCHE. Her sister is GLADYS; and, as
their mother said, their brother is CECIL ROUGEMONT GRIEN.
Their father gave his mother's name correctly to the editor
of the Chronicle as "Jeanne." ((
Jeanne," she is. He gave
his father's name in our office as "Samuel Emmanuel."
"Antoine Samuel Emmanuel" was the name of the unhappy
man who was the father of "Henri Louis Grien," and who
after a wasted life, ended it with his own hand. The son we
have traced with infinite pains; but in reality he made his
tracks so broad and clear that it was, in the main, easy to
follow them. An eccentric member of the great line of
inventive impostors who have astonished and amused the
world, we take leave of our old acquaintance with something
of a sigh. We have purposely omitted some phases of his
life story, for we see a certain piteousness in the tale of the
defeated and storm-tost adventurer. We tell what can fairly
be told; upon the rest we drop the curtain.

•
't
MMA
apart.
Z
PASTE
://
C.H. SE
!
A MODERN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
TRUTH STRAT
از
Mover
M.
LOUIS DE OUGEMONT
WILL
DELIVER A WONDERFUL
CTURE
TONIGHT
AT 8
J
!
PHIL MA
92
"SHE (YAMBA) WAS MY ADVANCE AGENT AND BILL-TOSTER, SO TO SAY."—DE ROUGEMONT.
1
29

30
RATS!
I
P
CH.SC
THE DE ROUGEMONT PANTOMIME.

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//
ival
xx
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|-
"NO SALE FROM DAY TO DAY."
///
ترال
Ess
(
ला
Muri
пит
§
PEAL MA
98
5
F-TZG-R-LD.
YAMBA.
F-TZG-R-LD:
DE ROUGEMONT.
F-TZG-R-LD.
(The Scene is the site of a house on a painfully deserted sand-pit. With the exception of the site and one door,
the house is incompleted. De Rougemont and Yamba, clad in a sense of their own probity, may be said to be dis-
covered. F-tzg-r-ld, disguised as an editor, approaches and, with an almost morbid love of ceremonial, knocks at the
door before entering.)
DE ROUGEMONT. Who's there?
F-TZG-R-LD.
DE ROUGEMONT PANTOMIME..
DE ROUGEMONT.
YAMBA.
F-TZG-R-LD.
YAMBA.
you
Have sundry won'drous anecdotes about
DE ROUGEMONT. Our all-wool miracles are cheap to-day!
Pick where you like! Fresh-made! No
cure, no pay !
And something in your tone of voice says
clearly
You love the truth.
HUMBLY SUGGESTED BY BARRY PAIN.
I'm truth's apostle, seeking you.
You're Livingstone?
Well, this is something new.
Or is it Stanley?
Neither I'm afraid.
Greater than either in the self-same trade,
I am De Rougemont, first name Louis, this is
My Yamba-that's Australian for the missis.
Delighted! From your looks I cannot doubt
A SAMPLE.
"
We do.
Yes, dearly, dearly.
The world, thought I, is with wonders pack't,
Fiction's undoubtedly beaten by fact.
The love of marvel's in man innate,
Can't
you.
Stop
31
THE
But that need'nt make him inaccurate.
The thing that he wants, but has not yet seen,
Is a thing called a Wide World Magazine.
And I saw, as I hope you both will see,
It would do very well were it run by me.
I thought I'd try something new,
I'd go for the strictly true,
And magnetical attraction took me straight
away to you
My love of the truth you must share,
And the profit-there's plenty to spare-
Of the quest we will make for truth's own
sweet sake;
But I
There.
Truth's own sweet sake-could any sake be
sweeter?
DE ROUGEMONT. Listen, F-tzg-r-ld, to our tale in metre.
I
!
DUET.
DE ROUGEMONT. There's a lesson I received with deep attention
From my parents and my masters in my
youth,
YAMBA.
DE ROUGEMONT.
YAMBA.
DE ROUGEMONT.
YAMBA.
TOGETHER.
Which there's really no necessity to mention
Since we know your adoration for the
truth.
An inaccuracy positively grieves me,
The least exaggeration makes him weep,
And that's the reason everyone believes mne
Although our story sounds a trifle steep:
Yes, we drove two turtles tandem
(Easy when you understand 'em)
From Australia through Greenland to Peru ;
But we had the worst of luck,
For the leader came unstuck,
And the wheeler ate our only pot of glue.
We got shorter too and shorter
Of such little things as water—
The consumers were so wasteful with the
dew-
Till one sunny afternoon
We encountered a monsoon,
Ką
And impatiently said "Blow it!" and it blew.
It blew us out to sea,
Where we found a guava-tree,
Which we tracked unto the island where it
grew.
And the chief, who worst of dodgers is,
Produced the two Miss Rogerses,
And we thought they'd better fly and so they
flew ;
Yamba did'nt like the girls,
So instead we dug for pearls,
In a spot-but, no, the name would give the
clue;
And I hope you'll find this ample,
Considered as a sample
Of a story that's irrefutably true.
You
Have a passion for the wonderful but true.
32
F-TZG-R-LD.
YAMBA.
F-TZG-R-LD.
F-TZG-R-LD.
A sale! A sale!
YAMBA.
DE ROUGEMONT. Not a ship's sale!
I can't think what he means.
THE DE ROUGEMONT PANTOMIME.
My sale! Its sale! The Wide World
Magazine's
(Thanks, "Pinafore ") I ween.
Editorship's the only ship I've seen.
Come! London waits you, England is
athirst;
Come out in numbers, booming from the first.
Give to the learned body of my nation
More reason for their name's abbreviation;
Well-advertised you cannot, cannot fail,
Fame shall be yours, and ours the glorious
sale.
You would'nt leave me ?
DE ROUGEMONT.
YAMBA.
DE ROUGEMONT.
F-TZG-R-LD.
DE ROUGEMONT.
F-TZG-R-LD.
DE ROUGEMONT.
If that's all the trouble,
It is soon over, for I have a double,
And as my wife you've every claim to share it;
So if you're left, you're left to Grin and bear it.
What Grin? You've kept him hidden, I
perceive—
What law forbids one laughing in his sleeve?
Enough! Away!
Once more, my native slut,
I hear that voice say "Coupez" French for
"Cut!"
A deal will follow.
Any terms we'll fix.
You'll play the game?
And win it too by tricks.
Whistle a whale, farewell, my dusky bride;
Come on, F-tzg-r-ld-room for two inside.
f
1
•
پانچ
☆
200
1
S AUSTRALIA,
THE
WIDE WORLD
MAGAZINE
NATIVES
316
ME
MA
Prim Mayas
98
BLUE
POINTS
|SECONDS
1
12
P
TRANSFORMATION SCENE,
ZEI
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☆
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alll
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I
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THE DE ROUGEMONT PANTOMIME.
33

PUBLISHED BY
EDWARD LLOYD, LIMITED,
12, SALISBURY SQUARE,
LONDON, E.C.

MELLIN'S
FOOD
FOR INFANTS AND INVALIDS.
452
252
6, Nova Scotia Place, Hotwells, Bristol,
November 16th, 1897.
Messrs Mellin's Food, Ltd.,
Dear Sirs, I am sending you a picture of our little boy who is just 14 months old and he is a very healthy little
fellow. He has been brought up on Mellin's Food and cow's milk from a month old, and we have not had any trouble
Yours faithfully,
MRS. MURPHY.
whatever with him.
MELLIN'S FOOD WHEN PREPARED IS SIMILAR TO BREAST MILK.
02TUC Small size bottle sent post free for 1/6.
MELLIN'S FOOD WORKS, PECKHAM, S.E.
Who are the Largest and Best Sewing
Machine Manufacturers in the world?
Who sell the greatest number of Sewing
Machines in the world?
Who have Branches all over the world?
Who made nearly Seventeen Tons of
Needles last year?
Whose Sewing Machine is the best for
plain sewing in the world?
Whose Sewing Machine for beautiful
Art Embroidery is the best in the
world?
Who sell nearly a Million Sewing
Machines every year?
Whose total Sales amount to over 14
Millions (or three-quarters of all the
Sewing Machines sold) throughout
the world?
Who is the only Firm that can adver
tise in this way?

Why, SINGER'S, of course.
FOR CASH. ON HIRE. REPAIRS. EXCHANGES.

OGDEN'S
PRESERVE YOUR TEETH
And teach the Children to do so by using
CALVERT’S
Each is prepared_with
CALVERT'S PUREST CArbolic-
the Best Dental Preservative.
They Sweeten the Breath and prevent
Infection by Inhalation.
CARBOLIC
TOOTH
POWDER
CARBOLIC
TOOTH
PASTE
6d., 13., 18. 6d., & 1 lb, 58. Tins.
Gd., 18., and 18. 6d. Pots.
AVOID IMITATIONS WHICH ARE NUMEROUS AND UNRELIABLE.
Illustrated List of CALVERT'S CARBOLIC PREPARATIONS sent
Post Free on application.
F. C. CALVERT & CO., P.O. BOX 513, MANCHESTER.
THE LARGEST SALE
OF ANY DENTIFRICES.
At Chemists, Stores, &c.
or 18, pot or tin, sent post free for value,
DIGESTIVE.
NOURISHING.
SUSTAINING.
MELLIN'S
FOOD
BISCUITS
Price 2s. per Tin.
Samples Post Free.
MELLIN'S FOOD WORKS, PECKHAM, S.E.
OGDEN'S
'GUINEA-GOLD'
CIGARETTES
have turned
ENGLAND
Upside Down
OWN

through
Pure
Enjoyment!
COD LIVER OIL
is widely known as a Valuable Medicine,
but as such it remains;
MELLIN'S
COD LIVER OIL
EMULSION
is a Palatable Tonic Nutrient, which can
be taken as a Food, like Milk.
To be obtained of all Chemists, 18. per bottle.
MELLIN'S FOOD WORKS, PECKHAM, S.E.
TAL TOOTH
BEAUTIFYING
ARSING
AND PRESERVING THE TEETH & CUM
M&C.



ASTE
PREPARED BY
JEWSBURY & BROWN
ARDWICK GREEN
MANCHESTER ENGLAND.
RELATED!
f

66
NO BETTER FOOD."
Dr. ANDREW WILSON, F.R.S.E., &c.
CO
Cocoa, Sah!"
FRY'S
COCOA
Pure
Fry's concentrated Cocoa
275 Gold Medals & Diplomas.
CAUTION.-Refuse Substitutes which are frequently pushed to secure
additional profit. Fry's Pure Concentrated Cocoa is sold only in tins
with Gilt Tops.