“ There was much bustle of departing travellers.
Parliament was u p ; for even the longest and most
obstructed session comes to an end. Jaded legislators,
men of fashion, ladies of society, were
among tbe crowd bound for foreign shores. London
was emptying itself from all its avenues of
transit. .
“ ‘ Any more for the Continental express ? shouted
the platform inspector.
“ A banging of doors, a shrill whistle, a last pressure
of hands through carriage-windows, and the red lamps
of the express for a moment challenged the white
sentinels of Electra, only to leave the spectators
gazing at the glistening track of steel along which
the train vanished into the outer darkness.
“ They were no mere holiday travellers, the two
young men whose latest adieux were made to me.
Their guns were not to be loaded for sport on Scotch
moors. They were pioneers bound for the Eastern
seas. Adventurers had gone before, and smoothed the
rugged way for the allied aid of science, which London
and Edinburgh now contributed to North Borneo, the
one a chemist, metallurgical and otherwise, the other
a doctor of medicine. Ahead of them were a respected
Governor, a staff of officials and four years of
diplomatic history, with a royal charter of her Gracious
Majesty Queen Victoria to follow.
“ I t was, as I have already intimated, the autumn,
time of the year, when the aspect of empty houses
falls with strange impressiveness upon the West-End
streets. The dull windows shed no illumination upon
the languid traffic of the finished season. There is
nothing more cheerless than an empty house, more
especially that which has been tenanted by your own
family circle. Run up to town from your vacation
retreat and note the pathetic dumbness of your
‘ household gods.’ I t is an experience in sensations.
And how terribly empty is a familiar room
when the familiar friend has left it, not to return for
years I
“ Such a room stands wide open, near the desk
upon which I am writing. I t contains a chest of
empty pigeon-holes, each docketed with scientific title s;
a nest of shelves crowded with the transactions of
learned societies and technical works on mineralogy,
metallurgy, and geology; a desk stained with many
acids; a broken blowpipe; a pair of foils; a photograph
of Professor Huxley; a kindly letter from Dr.
Frankland; a cabinet of minerals in the ro u g h ; a
barometer; and in one dark corner a package of
miscellaneous books, papers, and manuscripts, relating
to the sun-lands above which tower the sacred heights
of Kina Balu. In that empty room (the relics of the
former occupation of which are so eloquent to me, and
may be to some of my readers) a student of the Royal
School of Mines burnt the midnight oil. Recent
investigations into the influence of bacteria on gases
and kindred subjects gained for him considerable
distinction at the Institute of Chemistry and the
Chemical Society of London, and were recognized in
the scientific organs of Germany and America. These
labours may be said to have closed his student career.
Endorsed by the best authorities, he was selected by
e Governors of the new colony to explore its mineral
resources.
We had studied these books and papers together,
b 2