The Strand Magazine/Volume 5/Issue 25/The Queer Side of Things
The Queer Side of Things.
THE DWINDLING HOUR.
A Story of Impression and Convision; being, possibly, a true word spoken in jest.
I.
N an hour," sang the minstrel to his harp, whose frame was the curved black horn of a deer―"in an hour thy forefather strode from this spot whereon we sit to the summit of yon blue hill; and there, as the sinking sun would bend to caress his feet (as grovels a vanquished foe), he would touch its face with his hand in token of friendliness. 'Twixt dawning of day and noon would thy great forefather slay three hundred red-eyed wolves―one hundred shuffling bears!
"In a day did he carve and hew this bowl from the hardest rock, and fashion and form it thus; and bore a hole in its base for the water to trickle and ooze, and number the hours that sped!"
Then up rose the hunter to whom he sang; and broad was his chest, and active his limb; and he cried aloud, "What my forefather did that will I do; in an hour will I stride from here to the summit of yon blue hill."
And those that sat around, listening, laughed from their deep chests, shouting in mockery; for the blue hill was a day's journey away.
Then in anger the chief clutched his spear of flint; and he cried to them, "Fill up the bowl to the mark that marks an hour, and fill it up again till the two hours mark is reached; and ere the last drop is out will I stand on yon blue hill; and moisten my hand in the bowl."
Then turned he his face to the West, and, striding, stood on the cairn that capped the blue hill; and, returning, plunged his hand in the bowl: and, lo! his finger was moistened by the last drop ere it dripped from the hole at the base!
Then those that sat around sent up a shout of mockery; and they said, "Lo, since you strode away hath the red sun set on the hill, and hath risen again from the lake; and is stooping to set once more!"
"Then," cried he, "your words are a lie; for the clock but marks two hours."
But the others cried in their turn, "The marks in the bowl were made to number, not hours, but days!"
But the minstrel answered them, "Nay; they were made to number the hours―the hours of the distant past; the hours that were long as days."
Then the younger among them laughed. and held it a minstrel's myth; but the elders, pondering, cried, "These words of the singer are sooth; for the days that whiten our beards are passing in greater haste than the days that lengthened our limbs!"
But the younger among them said, "The hole in the bowl is clogged; it should run twelve times as fast."
And they bored the hole in the base till the water dripped more fast―twelve drops to the former one―and numbered the hours that passed. And, wreathed in the grey of the mist that crept from the breast of the lake, the soul of the hero of old, of him who had fashioned the clock, looked down on them while they wrought and vainly it strove to speak, and tell of the truth it knew; but voice and a tongue to speak would it lack for ages to come, for never a voice or tongue would it have till its hour arrived to dwell in the flesh once more; and then, and never till then, should it tell of the truth it knew.
II.
And, behold, on a day certain men journeyed toward Egypt, and this was that land of Egypt that should thereafter be mighty exceedingly; for these were the days before the First Dynasty―yea, many thousands of years before. And, it being nigh unto the time of the setting of the sun, they happened, by adventure, upon a cavern.
And they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt spake, saying, Shall we not lay down our burthens, and shall we not take the burthens from off our camels and from off our asses in this place, and abide for the day in this place, even here?
And they lay down their burthens even as they had spoken, saying, Shall we not lay them down? Also they took the burthens from off their camels and from off the backs of their asses, yea, and even from off the backs of their wives; and did tether them, even their camels and their asses and their wives, round about the cavern; and the men that journeyed toward the land of Egypt entered in unto the cavern, where there was shade, and washed their feet, and rested in the heat of the day.
"The marvelled at the bowl."
And it came to pass, while they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt rested in the cavern in the heat of the day, that they found a bowl in the cavern, and the bowl was of hard stone; even hewn from the hardest rock; and in the base of the bowl was a hole; and they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt marvelled at the bowl.
And behold, a certain man of them that was a wise man spake, saying, This is a clock at which ye marvel; for hath it not marks upon the inner side, even on the inward surface thereof, and were these marks not made to show the hours, by the dripping of the water from the hole that is at the bottom of the bowl, even the under side thereof?
But they cried out upon him, saying, This is no true thing that you speak, neither is it the fact: for the water would abide in the bowl, between one mark and another, for the space of more than an hour; yea, even more than two or three hours!
Then they cried out all together that the bowl should be filled with water; howbeit they said, Behold there is not in this cavern water sufficient to fill the bowl; for have we not emptied the water-skins that the women did fill at the well and did carry here; and is not the well distant from this place, even many paces of a camel?
And there was none among them that would arise and go in the heat of the day to fetch the water that was in the well; but he that was wise among them spake, saying:—
Shall not our wives, even those that are tethered outside the cavern round about it—shall not one of these go unto the well and fill the bowl at the well, and bring it hither filled with the water that is in the well?
So they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt called out to the wives that they should enter in and fetch the bowl; and should fill it at the well, even as they had spoken.
And it came to pass when the bowl was filled and set in their midst, that the water that was in the bowl, by reason of its dripping so slowly from the hole that was at the bottom of the bowl, abode in the bowl between one mark and another the space of three hours by the shadow of a spear that was set up outside the cavern.
So they that journeyed toward the land of Egypt, even they that lay in the cavern, cried, saying, Behold, is it not even as we said, saying, The water will abide in the bowl between one mark and another for the space of of more than an hour; and hath it not abode there the space of three hours?
But he that was wise among them said unto them, Nay, but for a certainty these marks that are in the bowl were made for the marking of the space of an hour; howbeit the hours that were at the time of the making of this bowl, were they not of the space of three hours, even of three of the hours of the present time?
Honour to thee, King Ammon, mighty as Pthah the god, son of Osiris, to whom libations! A bowl wrought of hard stone set up at the temple of Isis marking the time.
Then they that were aged and well stricken in years among them that lay in the cavern in the heat of the day, these communed with themselves for a space; and they spake, saying, Verily thus, and thus it seemeth unto us; that the space of the passing of the hours that behold the whiteness of our beards is verily shorter than the space of the passing of the hours that did behold the increasing of our statures in the tents of our fathers! And it seemed unto them even so, that this saying was true.
But they that were young among them, even the young men, scoffed, saying, The hole that is at the bottom of the bowl is clogged by reason of dirt that is within the hole: shall we not, therefore, bore out the hole, to the end that the water that is within the bowl shall drip faster, even three times as fast; and shall set forth the hours?
So they that were young did according to that saying; and they bored the hole round about, until the water that was within the bowl dripped out three times as fast.
And they rejoiced, saying, Behold, now it is a good and useful clock! And they bore the bowl with them into the land of Egypt; four wives and an ass carried the bowl in their turns—the four women for a space, and the ass for a space—until they came to the land of Egypt; and the clock was set up in the land of Egypt. And this was in the days before the First Dynasty; yea, many thousands of years before. And behold, the spirit of him that had wrought the bowl followed after the bowl, even unto the land Egypt; for the spirit was filled with a great and exceeding desire to speak those things that were known unto it; yet the time of its speaking was not yet.
III.
In the days of Amun-Ta-Ra, in the Fifth Dynasty, in the year of the Altering of the Clock. Glory to thee, Amun.
In that year, after his return from the war with many captives, did Amun-Ta-Ra order the greater hollowing of the hole at bottom of the clock set up before the temple of Isis telling the hours.
The clock too slowly dripping, the hole being in part stopped, showing the hours too long, was altered. One hour in the space of two did it count. Let Amun-ta-Ra live!
IV.
Young Reuben scraped off his boots the worst of the mud from the furrows against the gate-post, shut the gate, and trudged homewards from his labour; as he turned into the road from the end of the lane he came in sight of old Reuben, sitting as usual on his heap of stones by the roadside; his hammer lay idly in his hand, its head on the heap of larger flints before him; the old gentleman was slowly shaking his head—not that he was such a very old gentleman; sixty, maybe; and still hale and strong.
"What be amiss, father?" said young Reuben. "Ye've bin a-settin' there shakin' yer head like a old owl since I turned into the road. It be time to knock off."
"Amiss, Reuben? Why, thet's where you have me, like. What I know is, there be a somethin' amiss; and it be either me or the time, and so I tell ye. Am I a-gettin' old an' weak, boy; or is it the hours a-goin' quicker? Lookee here, Reuben, it do seem to me as I can do less in the time every blessed day as follers t'other! Why, thirty year agone, blest if I didn't do—ah, double thet there little 'eap in the day's work—and yet, blame me if I feel a bit weaker nor I used ter! You mark my words, Reuben, boy; the hours is a-gettin' shorter every day—thet's what they're a-doin', and you put it down at thet!"
"Young Reuben laughed."
Young Reuben laughed incredulously. "You're a-gittin' lazy, old 'un—that's about the size of it," he said.
"I hain't a-gettin' nothink o' the kind nor discripshen!" said old Reuben, starting up indignantly; "and you put it down at thet."
"Well, lazy or not lazy, I ken show ye a stone as you ain't industrous enough fer to break. Found it in a furrer, I did; an' talk about 'ard! And a fair rum 'un he be, too."
They plodded to the field young Reuben had just left; and young Reuben, with some difficulty, lifted the "stone" for inspection. It was a bowl, very ancient by the look of it, laboriously carved and ground out from a piece of rock that seemed as hard as steel.
"A rum 'un he be, too, and right you are," said old Reuben. "A wash bowl, likely."
"What be that 'ole in the bottom fer, then?" said young Reuben.
"Why, fer to empty him, that be, as a pig might see with 'is eyes shet."
They carried the bowl home, and a pretty good weight they found it. Old Jim Pedler came along that evening to have a pipe. Jim Pedler had been about a deal here and there, and he knew a lot.
"Why, whatee got theer?" said he.
"Mebbe ye'll know that better ner us," replied old Reuben. "Some kind o' wash-basin, so we seem to reckon it be."
"Wash-basin," said old Jim Pedler. "That's jest what it been't. I tellee now, I do think as it's some kind of old sort of water-clock, an' that's what I think. Why, see here now, if there ain't bin lines 'ere inside fer to mark the hours or somethin'. That's it—it be a water-clock. S'pose we gits some water an' tries it."
They cleared out the hole at the bottom and filled the bowl with water up to the first hour mark; and, old Jim Pedler having a watch, they sat and looked on as the water dripped out; but when they had sat and smoked for two hours the bowl was still far from empty.
"'Twern't never meant to reckon hours by, that's a moral," said young Reuben.
"Thet's more ner you knows," replied old Reuben. "What der you know about folks's hours as lived ages ago? You jest let other folks's hours alone, as p'raps knowed better ner you. Mebbe their hours was longer—what did I say this wery day about the hours a-bein' shorter now than wot they was thirty year agone? But I tell yer wot: it 'ud make a notionable kind of clock if we was to bore the 'ole a bit bigger and jest manage to git it right for the hours."
So they drilled and filed and tried to chip; and after much labour they made the hole large enough to let out the water from one mark to the next in sixty minutes. And all the while there hovered around them, invisible, the spirit of him that fashioned the bowl, longing to speak what it knew; but its time for returning to the flesh was not yet—but it was coming.
THEY SAT AND SMOKED FOR TWO HOURS.
V.
The nineteenth century was ancient history, when one day, in a breathless, hurrying world, a busy City man was borne electrically home to his suburban villa one hundred miles from the City.
He was tired and morose, and a settled worry clouded his face.
"What is it to-day, John?" asked his wife. "Done nothing again?"
"WHAT IS IT TO-DAY, JOHN?"
"Nothing," replied the City the man, wearily. "Absolutely nothing. Got up at seven—hurried like mad over dressing and breakfast, and managed to get through them by ten, and rush to town—got to town at twelve thirty, and sat down to write one short letter—finished that by two—saw Brown about the cargo, and said a few words to him by four-thirty—read a telegram and two letters, fast as I could read, by five-thirty—gave instructions, about twenty words, to chief clerk by seven—dashed home again like lightning, and now it's nearly ten! My dear, this can't go on! The day is over before one has time to breathe! There is no time for anything. It's all very well to say we live a hundred years now against the seventy of a thousand years ago; but I'm convinced the years have grown shorter. Why—just fancy, Maria when I was a boy we used to have time between sunrise and sunset to write out one hundred and fifty lines of Virgil, or row three miles on the river. Why, I saw in a very old newspaper in the Museum lately, that an athlete could once run a mile on the cinder path in four minutes seventeen seconds; and it can't be done now by a champion under twenty-five minutes! Halloa here's the carrier brought that curious old water-clock I bought at the antiquity shop yesterday... You see those faint lines inside? They were to mark the hours—hours, though—no! I'm sure the water would never drip through that little hole fast enough to sink one of those measurements in an hour. Let's try... Halloa! While I've been talking it's got to one o'clock a.m.; and we haven't had time for dinner today—I mean yesterday. Maria! this can't go on! It's killing!" Next Sunday the City man tried the water-clock, and it took five hours and three-quarters for it to register an hour; so he had the hole at the bottom made larger—of more than five times its former capacity; and it registered the hours.
And the spirit of him that had fashioned it hovered ever about the clock, waiting to speak what it knew; and its time was soon to come.
MONDAY MORNING.
VI.
And the City man had grown old; and his son was the City man now. And on the morning of Monday he would arise from bed and shave, and wash, and dress; and when he had done these things it was Monday night, and he sat down and ate his breakfast; and when he had finished his breakfast and drawn on his boots, it was Tuesday morning; and when he had hurried to town, it was Tuesday night; and when he had opened one letter and one telegram, and said ten words to his clerk, it was Wednesday night; and when he had dashed back home, it was Thursday morning; and when he had eaten his dinner, it was Friday morning; and then a short glance at the newspaper brought him to Friday night; and then into bed by Saturday morning, to sleep until Monday morning.
And he became an elderly man; and now he would arise from bed on the Monday morning, and when he had washed and dressed, it was Tuesday morning; and when he had eaten his breakfast, it was Wednesday morning; so he could not go to town, as there was not time in the week. And men sat down dazed and paralyzed, for there was no time to do anything. And each week they enlarged the hole in the water-clock; and at the end of each week it dripped too slowly, and fell behind.
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And a new Astronomer-Royal was appointed; and in him was the soul, re-incarnated, of him who had fashioned the clock in the dusk of pre-historic ages; and at last he could tell what he knew.
And he told all men that the thing they had felt was true: he told them how, for many thousands of years, the earth and all the universe had revolved ever faster and faster; all with proportionate increase of velocity, so that the circuit of the moon kept its wonted time with the revolution of the earth; and the comets came and went at their expected seasons, as also occurred the eclipses; so that no man could know that which was taking place, but only guess. And now each day they enlarged the hole in the water-clock; until the bowl was growing to be all hole: and now they could not bore fast enough in the hard stone; and now———
MANDRAKE ROOTS.
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HE accompanying illustrations represent specimens of the mandragora (mandrake) root, which is found in some parts of Asia Minor and Syria. Many of these roots take the form of human beings, especially from the hips downward, and all have more or less the shape of a man or woman; one of the specimens resembling a woman carrying a child under each arm. The peasants relate that when the roots are pulled up out of the ground they utter cries or shrieks, like a person in pain. The roots are still used for spells and other witchcraft. For these specimens we are indebted to Mr. A. Caillard, Ramleh, Alexandria, Egypt.
THE HUNTER AND THE BIRD