Test Bank for Developmental Math 3rd Edition by Lial Hornsby

Ginnis Salzman and Hestwood ISBN 0321854462 9780321854469

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MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the question.

Write fractions to represent the shaded and unshaded portions of the figure.
1) 1)

5 5 5 1 1 4 1 5
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
1 4 6 6 5 5 66

2) 2)

7 1 7 1 1 6 3 1
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
8 8 4 4 7 7 44

3) 3)

5 3 5 3 3 5 5 3
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
1
 3 3 8 8 5 5 44

4) 4)

2
 2 3 2 1 5 5 3 1
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
5 5 3 3 2 3 22

3
 5) 5)

3 3 3 1 1 3
1 2 B) , C) , D) ,
A) ,
3 3 1 2 4 4 4 4

6) 6)

3 5 5 5 3 2 5 3
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
8 8 3 2 5 5 8 8

7) 7)

5 1 1 1 5 1 5 1
A) 3, 3 B) , C) , D)
5 1 1 1 6, 6

8) 8)

7 1 7 1 7 1 1 4
A) , B) , C) , D) ,
1 4 4 4 8 8 7 1

9) 9)

11 1 11 1 11 1 1 12
A) , B) , C) , D) , 11 1
12 12 6 6 1 12

10) 10)

5 1 3 5 3 2 5 3
A) , B) , C) , D) ,

3 3 8 8 5 5 88

4
Solve the problem.
11) Of 23 crates of apples, 3 crates are Granny Smiths. What fraction of the crates are Granny Smiths? 11)
23 20 3 23
A) B) C) D)
3 23 23 20

12) Of 23 crates of apples, 8 crates are Granny Smiths. What fraction of the crates are not Granny 12)
Smiths?

23 8 23 15
A) B) 23 C) D)
8 15 23

13) A high school basketball team has 10 members. If 7 of the team members are juniors, find the 13)
fraction of the team members that are juniors.

10 7 3 10
A) B) 10 C) 10 D)
7 3

14) A high school basketball team has 12 members. If 5 of the team members are juniors and the rest 14)
are seniors, find the fraction of the team members that are seniors.

12 5 12 7
A) B) 12 C) D)
7 5 12

15) In a microbiology class of 47 students, 23 students are graduate students. What fraction of the 15)
students are graduate students?

23 47 47 24
A) B) C) D)
47 24 23 47

16) In a microbiology class of 41 students, 16 students are graduate students. What fraction of the 16)
students are not graduate students?

41 41 16 25
A) B) C) D)
25 16 41 41

17) Of 104 bicycles in a bike rack, 37 are mountain bikes. What fraction of the bicycles are mountain 17)
bikes?

104 37 104 67
A) B) C) D)
67 104 37 104

18) Of 96 bicycles in a bike rack, 53 are mountain bikes. What fraction of the bicycles are not mountain 18)
bikes?

96 43 53 96
A) B) C) D)
53 96 96 43

5
19) Of 226 trees in the park, 53 are coniferous trees. What fraction of the trees are coniferous trees? 19)
226 226 53 173
A) B) C) D)
53 173 226 226

20) Of 170 trees in the park, 31 are coniferous trees. What fraction of the trees are not coniferous trees? 20)
139 170 170 31
A) B) C) D)
170 31 139 170

6
Identify the numerator and denominator.
7
21) 21)
2

2
B) Numerator
A) Numerator 9 C) Numerator 2 D) Numerator 7
7
Denominator 1 Denominator 7 Denominator 7 Denominator 2

7
22)
22)
23
7
B) Numerator
A) Numerator 23
23
Denominator 7 Denominator 1

C) Numerator 7 D) Numerator 1

23
Denominator 23 Denominator
7

List the proper fractions in the group.

9 5 7 3 23)
23) , , ,
7 12 15 17
9 13 9
9 5 7 3 C) 5 7 3

A) , , , B) , D) , ,
7 12 15 17 7 17 7 12 15 17

1 11 18 5 8 24)
24) , , , ,
4 7 18 4 3
11 18 5 8 1
A) , , , B)
7 18 4 3 4
1 5 8 1 11 18 5 8
C) , , D) , , , ,
4 4 3 4 7 18 4 3

7 14 7 11 3 25)
25) , , , ,
12 13 2 4 4
7 3 7 11 3 7 11 3 14 7 11

A) , B) , , C) , , D) , ,
12 4 2 4 4 12 4 4 13 2 4

16 13 11 17 2 26)
26) , , , ,
13 12 8 17 3
11 13 11 17
A) B) , ,
8 12 8 17
16 13 11 2 2
C) , D)
, ,

7
13 12 8 3 3

8
 3 5 7 2 16 27)
27) , , , ,
7 19 7 11 219
3 5 7 2 16 7
A) , , , , B)
7 19 7 11 219 7
3 5 2 16 5 7 2
C) , , , D) , ,
7 19 11 219 19 7 11

9 5 7 19 3 28)
28) , , , ,
7 12 15 12 17
9 19 9 5 7 19 3
A) , B) , , , ,

7 12 7 12 15 12 17
5 7 3 9 5 7
C) , , D) , ,
12 15 17 7 12 15

List the improper fractions in the group.

16 4 7 28 41 29)
29) , , , ,
5 61 9 28 41
16 28 41 16 4 7 41
A) , , B) , , ,
5 28 41 5 61 9 41
16 4 7 28 41 4 7
C) , , , , D) ,
5 61 9 28 41 61 9

45 5 2 32 58 30)
30) , , , ,
4 13 6 23 58
5 2 45 5 2 58
A) , B) , , ,
13 6 4 13 6 58
45 32 58 45 5 2 32 58
C) , , D) , , , ,
4 23 58 4 13 6 23 58

47 4 2 63 43 31)
31) , , , ,
4 38 3 49 43
47 4 2 63 43 4 2
A) , , , , B) ,

4 38 3 49 43 38 3
47 63 43 47 4 2 43
C) , , D) , , ,
4 49 43 4 38 3 43

55 2 4 60 58 32)
32) , , , ,
2 56 9 16 58
2 4 55 2 4 60 58
A) , B) , , , ,
56 9 2 56 9 16 58
55 2 4 58 55 60 58
C) , , , D) , ,
2 56 9 58 2 16 58

9
 48 2 4 59 25 33)
33) , , , ,
8 10 8 19 25
48 59 25 48 2 4 59 25
A) , , B) , , , ,
8 19 25 8 10 8 19 25
2 4 48 2 4 25
C) , D) , , ,
10 8 8 10 8 25

50 6 7 20 22 34)
34) , , , ,
7 48 9 12 22
50 6 7 22 50 20 22
A) , , , B) , ,
7 48 9 22 7 12 22
6 7 50 6 7 20 22
C) , D) , , , ,
48 9 7 48 9 12 22

Fill in the blanks to complete the sentence.

26
35) The fraction represents of the equal parts into which a whole is divided. 35)
58
26 26
A) , 58 B) , 26 C) 58, 26 D) 26, 58
58 58

Write the mixed number as an improper fraction.

7
36) 5 36)
8

40 47 40 47
A) B) C) D)
8 8 7 7

5
37) 2
37)
9
18 18 23 23
A) B) C) D)
5 9 9 5

2
38) 3
38)
5
17 15 15 17
A) B) C) D)
2 5 2 5

3
39) 2
39)
7
17 14 17 14
A) B) C) D)
7 3 3 7

1
40) 18
40)
10
181 19 18 191
A) B) C) D)
10 10 10 10

10
 14
41) 18 41)
15
284 84
A) 32 B) C) D) 252
15 5

Write the improper fraction as a whole or mixed number.

11
42) 42)
3

2 2 2
A) 3 B) 4 C) 2 2
D)
3 3 7 3

22
43) 43)
4
1 1 1 1
A) 6 B) 5 C) 4 D) 5
2 2 2 7

26
44) 44)
5
1 1 1 1
A) 5 B) 6 C) 4 D) 5
5 5 5 7

7
45)
45)
2
1 1 1 1
A) 4 B) 3 C) 3 D) 2
2 2 7 2

36
46) 46)
8
4 4 4 4
A) 4 B) 5 C) 4 D) 3
7 8 8 8

168
47) 47)
7
24
A) 167 B)
C) 169 D) 24
2

296 317
48) 317
11 49)
2 1
11 B) 158
A) 296 11
A) 2 B) 2
296 1 296
5
8
5

11
 48)
296 10
C) 296 D) 26
11 11

317 49)
C) 1585 2
31 D)
2 7

12
 2058 50)
50)
14
147
A) 147 B) 2057 C)
D) 2059
2

Find all the factors for the number.

51) 30 51)
A) 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, 15, 30 B) 1, 5, 6, 30
C) 5, 6, 10, 30 D) 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, 20, 30

52) 28 52)
A) 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 14, 28 B) 1, 2, 7, 14, 28
C) 2, 7, 14, 28 D) 1, 2, 4, 7, 14, 28

53) 36 53)
A) 2, 4, 6, 12, 18, 36 B) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 12, 18, 36
C) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 12, 18, 36 D) 1, 2, 4, 6, 12, 18, 36

54) 45 54)
A) 1, 3, 5, 15, 45 B) 1, 3, 5, 9, 15, 30, 45
C) 1, 2, 3, 5, 9, 15, 30, 45 D) 1, 3, 5, 9, 15, 45

55) 56 55)
A) 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 14, 18, 28, 56 B) 2, 4, 7, 8, 14, 28
C) 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 14, 18, 28, 56 D) 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 14, 28, 56

56) 63 56)
A) 1, 3, 7, 9, 21, 63 B) 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 21, 63
C) 1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 21, 36, 63 D) 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 21, 63

57) 66 57)
A) 1, 2, 3, 9, 11, 22, 33, 66 B) 1, 3, 11, 22, 33, 66
C) 1, 2, 3, 6, 11, 22, 33, 66 D) 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 16, 22, 33, 66

58) 70 58)
A) 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9, 15, 35, 70 B) 1, 2, 5, 7, 10, 14, 35, 70
C) 1, 2, 5, 7, 35, 70 D) 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 15, 20, 35, 70

59) 72 59)
A) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 12, 24, 36, 72 B) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 12, 18, 24, 36, 72
C) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 12, 14, 18, 24, 36, 72 D) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 18, 24, 36, 72

60) 84 60)
A) 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 14, 21, 28, 42, 84 B) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 12, 14, 21, 28, 42, 84
C) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 14, 21, 28, 42, 84 D) 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 12, 14, 21, 42, 84

Decide whether the number is prime or composite.

61) 44 61)
A) Prime B) Composite

13
 62) 29 62)
A) Prime B) Composite

63) 36 63)
A) Prime B) Composite

64) 19 64)
A) Prime B) Composite

65) 10 65)
A) Prime B) Composite

Find the prime factorization of the number. Write the answer with exponents when repeated factors appear.
66) 12 66)
A) 4 ∙ 3 B) 32 C) 4 ∙ 2 D) 22 ∙ 3

67) 265 67)

A) 52 ∙ 53 B) 5 ∙ 53 C) 52 D) 5 ∙ 51

68) 176 68)

A) 24 ∙ 11 B) 23 ∙ 13 C) 23 ∙ 11 D) 24 ∙7

69) 72 69)
A) 22 ∙ 32 B) 23 ∙ 3 C) 23 ∙ 32 D) 22 ∙3

70) 110 70)

A) 2 ∙ 5∙ 11 B) 10 ∙ 11 C) 52 ∙ 2 D) 22 ∙ 11

71) 350 71)

A) 22 ∙ 52 ∙ 7 B) 2 ∙ 5 ∙ 7 C) 14 ∙ 52 D) 2 ∙ 52 ∙ 7

72) 684 72)

A) 34 ∙ 19 B) 22 ∙ 32 ∙ 19 C) 23 ∙ 32 ∙ 19 D) 24 ∙ 19

73) 936 73)

A) 24 ∙ 3 ∙ 13 B) 23 ∙ 33 ∙ 13 C) 23 ∙ 32 ∙ 13 D) 2 ∙ 34 ∙ 13

14
 74) 5200 74)
A) 23 ∙ 52 ∙ 13 B) 24 ∙ 52 ∙ 11 C) 24 ∙ 52 ∙ 13 D) 24 ∙ 5 ∙ 13

75) 1260 75)

A) 22 ∙ 32 ∙ 5 ∙ 7 B) 22 ∙ 32 ∙ 5 ∙ 11 C) 22 ∙ 32 ∙ 7 D) 23 ∙ 32 ∙ 5 ∙ 7

Determine whether the number is divisible by 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and/or 10.

76) 24 76)
A) 2, 3, 4, 6, 8 B) 2, 3, 4, 8 C) 2, 3, 4 D) 2, 3, 4, 6

15
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 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Portrait of Sir John Hay Drummond Hay

Frontispiece
(From a photograph by Barraud.)
Senya el Hashti 229
To face
Reception by Sultan Sid Mohammed
page 238
Ravensrock 353
Portrait of Sir John Hay Drummond Hay on To face
horseback page 368

NOTE

The system of orthography used in this book for native names

and places is that adopted by the Council of the Royal Geographical
Society, the true sounds of words as locally pronounced being taken
as the basis of spelling, except in the case of old-recognised names
such as Tangier (more properly Tanja). According to this system,
vowels are pronounced as in Italian; consonants as in English; kh
and gh as the Oriental gutturals.
Morocco, the name of the region of Western Mauritania of Roman
geography, has undoubtedly been corrupted from the native name
‘Moghreb’ (setting sun). Maroc, Marocco, Marruecos, Marok, &c.,
written by different peoples of Europe, are curious corruptions, some
even further off from Moghreb than the English corruption of the
native name, and no nearer to the old classic corruption Mauritania
than in beginning with Ma instead of Mo.
The name of the ancient city which we British call Marocco, or yet
more absurdly Morocco, is in the mouth of the natives ‘Marákesh.’
S I R J O H N H AY D R U M M O N D H AY
 CHAPTER I.

BOYHOOD. 1816-1834.

In 1816, my father, at that time Major in the 73rd Regiment, was

on the staff of Lord Lynedoch—then in command of the army of
occupation—and held the post of ‘Majeur de Place’ at Valenciennes;
where my mother, after the conclusion of peace, had joined him.
Here I was born on the 1st of June of that year, and my name was
inscribed as a French citizen at the Mayoralty.
After my father retired from the army, he was offered by his
relative the Earl of Kinnoull, hereditary Lord-Lyon, the office at
Edinburgh of Lord-Lyon Clerk. At Edinburgh we resided first in an
old-fashioned house at Deanhaugh—the boards of the room where I
slept were stained with the blood of a tenant who had committed
suicide there—the garden adjoined that attached to the house where
the painter Raeburn dwelt. Later, we moved into a house in Athol
Crescent, one of the first of the new buildings in Edinburgh in those
days; I have a little sketch, from a window at the back of the house,
of the pretty country seen therefrom and which is now all built over.
With my elder brother, I was sent as day-boarder to the Academy.
Early in the morning, after a breakfast of porridge, and having been
given by my mother a penny to buy a ‘bap’ for my luncheon, I started
off, with my satchel on my back, for school. Near Stockbridge I would
meet ‘daft Jamie’—walking up and down in all weathers,
bareheaded, with his hands behind his back—and often gave the
poor fellow half my bap: one day he had disappeared, and
afterwards I learnt he had been one of the first victims of the
murderers Burke and Hare, who sold bodies for dissection to the
eminent surgeon, Knox.
Being an indolent boy, and having great difficulty in learning by
heart any lesson, I was always at the bottom of the form, but, for my
age and size, I was the best runner and player at football; at which
game I broke my arm and was taken to the well-known surgeon,
Symes, to have it set.
On going to school in the morning, I passed through Charlotte
Square and there frequently met Lord Cockburn[1] taking an early
walk, wearing Hessian boots, a large frill of shirt showing from his
waistcoat and a long chain with seals dangling from the fob in the top
of his trousers. He was a friend of my father’s, and on one occasion
he stopped and asked me to state what place I held in the form.
Hanging my head with shame, I did not reply.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘I dare say you are dunce! Tell me.’ I replied that I
was always at the bottom of the form. Upon which Lord Cockburn
said, ‘That’s right, my dear boy; keep there and you are sure to get
on in life and become an eminent man. Do you know who I am?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you are a judge.’
‘Well,’ he resumed, ‘I was like you, always at the bottom of the
form. Some day you may be a judge, or a greater man than I am.’
Shortly after this happened, having reported to my mother that I
was dunce as usual, she remonstrated with me for being such an
idle boy. Then I joyfully related Lord Cockburn’s language to me,
adding, ‘Some day I shall be as great a man as he is.’ As may be
supposed, the judge was rebuked by my parents for encouraging me
in idleness!
The future archbishop, Tait, was at the Edinburgh Academy at the
same time as myself. Though an idle boy, I learnt more at that school
than I did in the five years I spent at Charterhouse—whither I was
transferred with my brother in 1827—and it was at the Academy that
I won a prize of which I was very proud. It was not a reward for
efficiency in study, but an annual prize given to the boy who was
elected by a majority of votes as the favourite of the school.
In 1844, being on a visit to a friend in Edinburgh, I went to the
Academy, and on inquiring of the porter at the entrance who were
then the masters, I learnt that one of them was Ferguson, who had
been master of my form, and that he was then at lunch in the lodge
with the other masters. I entered, without my name being
announced, and, recognising Ferguson, gravely said: ‘I beg to be let
off to-day, Sir, for being late; I was prevented coming earlier.’
‘Hay junior,’ he replied at once, ‘you are forgiven.’ How he had
been able to remember my face after a lapse of sixteen years, when
he had known me only a smooth-faced boy, who now returned as a
man with a moustache, was especially strange to me, who never can
recollect any face—unless indeed it be that of a pretty woman!
Walter Scott was a great friend of my family and frequently came
to Athol Crescent. I have often sat on his knee and had stories told
me by him. I also accompanied my father to Abbotsford and spent
some days there, and I remember that on our arrival Walter Scott,
followed by his sleugh-hound ‘Maida,’ came out to welcome us, and,
taking my father by the arm, he turned round to ‘Maida’ and said, ‘Do
you take care of Johnny and let him have a ride on your back if he
likes.’ ‘Maida’ and I became great friends, and she allowed me to get
on her back; for I was a very slight boy.
When in Edinburgh, Walter Scott for a time lived in Walker Street,
leading out of Coates Crescent, opposite to our house. He called
one day on my mother and said he was going away for a month and
requested that he should be allowed to send, at night, his writing-
table, desk, and chair to her house, as he said his housekeeper
complained bitterly that she had no peace from the constant visits of
travellers, asking permission to see the chair, &c., where he wrote
his works. My mother consented, and Walter Scott then added: ‘I
shall put a notice on the door of my house, “Walter Scott has left this
house and his furniture has been removed.”’
A few days after the removal to Athol Crescent of the desk and
other articles, there was an unceasing knocking and ringing of bells
at our front door by travellers, begging to be admitted to see the
desk. My mother had to have it removed, and a notice, similar to that
suggested by Walter Scott, was placed on the door.

Mention is here omitted of an incident well remembered by his

children as related by Sir John’s mother, Mrs. Hay. Some visitors
who gained admittance to her house removed surreptitiously her
own worn quill pen from Walter Scott’s desk, under the impression
that it had been used and left there by him!
Among the memoranda left by Sir John are notes to the effect that
when he entered Charterhouse, Thackeray had either just left or was
about to leave that school; but Havelock, Leech, and John Murray
were his schoolfellows, as also a young Sheridan, who was
remembered by him chiefly on account of the readiness with which
he would improvise verses on any subject. This boy appears to have
been of improvident habits, and was generally in a state of
impecuniosity, which debarred him from buying the dainties in which
other boys indulged. His schoolfellows would offer to share their
tarts, &c., with him if he would make verses in reference to them—to
which he would instantly respond with apt rhymes.
During their early school life at Charterhouse the brothers spent
their holidays with either of their two grandfathers, the one being the
Rector of Hadleigh, Dean Drummond (youngest son of the
Archbishop of York of that day, and brother of the ninth Earl of
Kinnoull), through whom lay Sir John’s claim to French extraction, as
the Dean’s wife was a daughter of the Prince de Vismes et de
Ponthieu. Captain J. Thomson was their other and maternal
grandfather. A very learned linguist, he had been private secretary to
the Marquess of Hastings in India, spoke twenty-five languages, and
was author of Etymons of the English Language, which work was
completed after his death by his son-in-law, Mr. E. A. Drummond
Hay, father of the subject of the present memoir.
At Christmas-time, however, the two boys returned to their
parents in Edinburgh, a long, wearisome journey from London,
travelling by coach through two days and nights in bitterly cold
weather. The return journey to school, in particular, seems to have
left a desolate remembrance of arriving in London, cold and stiff after
long confinement in the crowded coach, but also a pleasant
recollection of the gruff kindness to the young travellers of the
guards, who would often forego their customary tip when changing,
rather than disturb from their sleep the schoolboys who were going
from home.
After the death of Dean Drummond, and the appointment of their
father to a foreign post in 1829, the brothers were wont to spend a
portion of their holidays at Dupplin Castle with the Earl of Kinnoull, to
whom they were then prospective heirs: the elder to the earldom, the
younger to the property of Cromlix. In fact, Lord Kinnoull asked their
father to allow him to have entire charge of the two boys and of their
education, in view of their being his probable successors. But this
offer was prudently declined, their father not wishing them—the sons
of a poor man—to be brought up amidst surroundings unsuited to
adapt them for pushing their own way in life, and in the expectation
of a prosperous future which, in their case, might fail to be realised.
In this he judged wisely; as, while still in the prime of life, Lord
Kinnoull married and had a large family.
The boys, however, continued to spend many happy holidays at
Dupplin; posting from Edinburgh to Perth, a pleasanter mode of
travelling than by coach.
Another recollection, in connection with their visits to Dupplin, was
the ceremonious importance of their attendance at the parish church
at Aberdalgie on Sundays. Though only a short distance intervened
between this place and the Castle, the family coach, with four horses
and postilions, was always prepared, and in this manner the two
schoolboys proceeded alone to the church, to occupy on arrival the
family ‘sitting,’ and listen, with what patience they might, to the long
discourse of the minister.

In 1829 my father was appointed Political Agent and Consul

General in Morocco. At that time I was at Charterhouse, and first
received the tidings from another boy who had seen the notice in the
Gazette. Geography was not taught at Charterhouse, and, as my
informant professed ignorance regarding the whereabouts of
Morocco, beyond that ‘it was a country in Africa inhabited by naked
niggers,’ we got hold of a map and made therein a voyage of
discovery until we found Morocco.
My family came up to London from Edinburgh and rented a house
in Clarges Street for the season, and my father decided that my
elder brother, the late Sir Edward Hay, and I should remain at
Charterhouse two or three years longer; then rejoin our family at
Tangier, and there be placed under a private tutor.
It was a curious coincidence that before my father was appointed
to Morocco, or had indeed any expectation of obtaining any
employment in a foreign country, the boys at Charterhouse had
nicknamed me ‘Othello,’ or ‘the Moor,’ not only because I was a
passionate youngster who resented an injury, but also on account of
my dark eyes and hair and olive complexion; typical of a thorough
Hay, according to Sir Walter Scott in The Fair Maid of Perth, where
he describes the clan as ‘a dark, short race.’
A frigate, H.M.S. Athol, in command of Captain Gordon, conveyed
my father and family to Tangier.
Three years later [1832], when I was fifteen, my brother and I, to
our great joy, were summoned to join them. Steam communication
was very rare in those days, and we sailed from Plymouth in a
merchant brig of about a hundred and fifty tons, with only a skipper
and four seamen on board. She was a clipper and made the run in
seven days.
It was a rough life on board the brig: hard sea-biscuit, salt pork,
with now and then currant dumplings, was the fare.
Nothing particular occurred during the voyage, except that after
rounding Cape St. Vincent, when off the Spanish coast, a large
lateen craft—called a ‘mistico’—gave chase, making signals to the
brig to heave to: but our skipper, who declared the ‘mistico’ to be a
pirate, responded to the signals by hoisting every stitch of canvas—
though a strong breeze was blowing—and we flew through the
water, leaving the ‘mistico’ far behind, and she gave up the chase
after firing shots which missed us. Probably she was a Spanish
revenue vessel and her commander had mistaken us for a smuggler.
There was a six-horned Barbary ram on board, which the skipper
had not been allowed by the Customs’ officers to land in England, for
fear, I suppose, of its contaminating the British breed of sheep. No
provision of fodder had been made for the poor animal, but, as he
had become a great favourite with the sailors, he was not made
mutton of, and lived on a pittance of hard biscuit, which the sailors
gave him from their rations. The poor ram was so ravenous that I
mischievously offered him one day a slice of cold mutton between
two pieces of biscuit, and this he devoured with avidity!
On our arrival at Tangier, my brother and I were placed under the
tuition of a Spanish gentleman, Don Gregorio de Borgas y Tarius,
whose father had been Captain-General in Estramadura; but, during
the reign of Ferdinand, having taken part in some ‘pronunciamiento’
against the despotic acts of that sovereign, he was compelled to fly
from Spain. His property was confiscated, and he and his son gained
their livelihood by giving lessons. Don Gregorio was a learned man
—not only a classical scholar, but a good mathematician, and spoke
French perfectly.
During the five years I had spent at Charterhouse I had studied
little or nothing except football, cricket, tennis, and other games; in
these I took the lead of others of my age. What I knew of Latin or
Greek had been acquired by me when a day-boarder at the
Edinburgh Academy—a far superior school at that time to
Charterhouse for education, as idle boys were there made to study:
but even at the Academy, geography and modern history were not
taught. I had learnt the history of the gods and goddesses, and knew
much about the doings of Jupiter, Juno, Hercules, Venus, &c., but
was left in total ignorance of English history, except what my mother
taught me, while knowing little or nothing of the history of Europe, or
even of the recent great war with Napoleon.
After we had spent two years in Tangier, my elder brother was
appointed a clerk in the Colonial Office, through the influence of our
relative, Mr. Robert Hay, then Under-Secretary for the Colonies; so I
was left alone under the tuition of Don Gregorio, but made little
progress, except in the French and Spanish languages, which I
acquired with as much ease as I had experienced difficulty in
mastering the classics.

Letter from Miss Shirreff to Sir John’s daughters.

41 Stanhope Gardens, S.W., Jan. 31, 1895.
You have asked me, my dear friends, to tell you something of our recollections
and impressions of your father’s early home; not that of his childhood, but of his
early youth—that in which his character was formed and the bent and purpose of
his manhood received its definite direction. It is but little that I can tell; but as I am
one of the few survivors of those who had the privilege of knowing that home in
those early days I will do what I can.
It was my father’s appointment late in 1830 to the post of Captain of the Port at
Gibraltar that first brought us into contact with the Hay family. Not long after our
arrival Mr. Drummond Hay came over to see us and claim my mother as his
cousin, though till then personally unknown; and his kindness and delightful
conversation and old-world courtesy had made an easy conquest of us all. The
invitation that followed for Minnie[2] and myself to pay a visit to Tangier was
therefore at once accepted with great glee; though circumstances—a deep family
sorrow, illness, and my father’s absence in England—delayed it till the spring of
’33. At last the moment came. My father took us over, and we were left among
strangers who were to become the dearest friends of all our after lives.
Mrs. Drummond Hay’s kind motherly greeting to her two young guests soon set
us at ease. Mr. Hay delighted us again as at first, and we then were at leisure to
make acquaintance with the younger members of the family; first Louisa[3], the
eldest daughter, a year older than myself; then your father, at that time a lad
between sixteen and seventeen.
Your father, who had but lately left Charterhouse and come to live at home, was
at this time engaged with the study of Arabic, more rare then than now, and which
was carried on more or less secretly owing to native jealousies. He was thus not
only preparing for work, but was also laying in great measure the foundation of that
immense influence and popularity among the Moorish population, for which he was
so remarkable in after years.
When the busy mornings were over, riding and music were the two delights that
drew the young party together. Under Mr. Hay’s guidance, and with the escort of a
Moorish soldier, still at that time necessary for protection, many were the delightful
rides that we took beyond the precincts of the old town, along the shore, or
through the half-wild country, so new in all its aspects to our eyes.
Then on our return, and often far into the evening hours, the long balcony, or
gallery as it was called, outside the drawing-room windows was our favourite
resort. Here we eat fruit, and talked over our ride, and here guitars were brought
out, and song and merry talk went on.
The garden, full of flowers and lovely shrubs, lay below us; in the distance
stretched the rugged coast of Spain; Gibraltar reared aloft its rocky summit,
whence the flash of the evening gun might be seen; while the golden glory of the
Western skies lighted up the narrow sea between, alive with fishing craft, or some
stately vessel passing through the straits. Truly it was a lovely view, and once
enjoyed could never fade from one’s memory. That enjoyment was only changed
for the pleasant circle at dinner, or in the drawing-room.
Perhaps it was the fact of our close intimacy with dear Mrs. Hay through the
long years of her many changes and trials that makes the recollection of the first
impressions of her less vivid; yet her gracious beauty, her gentle, pleasant ways in
the midst of the cares of such a household, can never be forgotten. But Mr. Hay
was himself emphatically the centre and ruler of the family life—a stern ruler at
times to his children, but they revered the will which they were bound to obey, and
loved the father. Louisa’s congenial spirit, her sympathy in his literary tastes, made
her naturally his companion, young as she was, and as secretary—no such person
was then officially recognised—she was invaluable.
Such, then, as I have striven partly to describe it, was the home in which John
Hay was gradually developing the qualities that were most remarkable in him
through later years—courage, resolution, sense of duty, power of work and
willingness to work, warm and wide sympathies, overflowing fun, and readiness to
give help, no matter in what direction: if the thing wanted were in his power to do it
was done, from mastering an unruly horse to teaching algebra to a backward
student.
The outside surroundings of the home had also their influence. Society in
Tangier was necessarily restricted, but within the small circle of different
nationalities the social tone of various countries became familiar, and then the
intercourse tended to dissipate national prejudices, and to lead the young to wider
sympathies than generally prevail where all are more or less under the sway of the
same habits and associations. This was naturally favourable to one who was
destined to the diplomatic service, as was also the necessary use of at least two
foreign languages—French for society, and Spanish, partly for the same, but also
as the medium of common intercourse with all the non-Arabic surroundings.
With reference to your dear father especially I may truly say that whenever we
met him in after years we felt that we were meeting the same valued friend of our
youth, and again our thoughts turned to the dear old home where, under a noble
father’s guidance, he was trained to all manly excellence, and where he had
learned to form his ideal of womanhood under the influence of the loving, unselfish
mother, and the sister whose bright intellect added force to the pure beauty of her
character, and made her worthy to be his trusted friend and confidant to the last
hours of her life.
 CHAPTER II.

WAITING FOR EMPLOYMENT—JOSÉ MARIA. 1834.

In 1834, I travelled through Andalusia with my tutor, and visited,

amongst other towns, Seville, where I had been requested by my
father to rent a furnished house for three months, as he had obtained
leave of absence and intended to spend it there with his family. Mr.
Ford, the author of the Handbook on Spain, and father of Sir Francis
Clare Ford, afterwards Ambassador at Madrid, then resided at
Seville; and, as he was about to leave, I hired his house.
Ford had made the acquaintance of José Maria, the famous
brigand—the ‘Little John’ of Spain—who had been pardoned by the
Queen on condition of his acting as chief of a body of ‘guardia civil’
and devoting himself to suppressing brigandage. He asked me if I
would like to see this notorious ex-robber and hear, from his own
lips, anecdotes of his life as a brigand. I readily assented, so José
Maria was invited to a luncheon at which I was present.
José Maria told us that all the robbers and thieves in the Southern
provinces of Spain had been for some years under his control—he
could collect when required a body of about forty well-mounted and
armed men—and related how his pardon and present appointment
had been obtained.
Hearing that Queen Christina, attended by an escort of cavalry,
was about to pass, on her return to Madrid from a visit to Granada,
through a wooded country known to be infested by banditti, José
Maria collected his well-mounted brigands, armed and dressed in
handsome ‘majo’ costume, and placed them at the entrance of the
forest through which Her Majesty would pass.
On the approach of the royal cortège, José Maria, observing a
trooper posted as vedette in advance of Her Majesty’s escort,
accosted the man and informed him that, as a loyal subject of the
Queen, he had brought a body of well-armed and mounted
inhabitants of the neighbourhood to escort Her Majesty through the
woods in safety.
The trooper rode back and reported this language to the officer in
command of the escort, adding that he suspected from the
appearance of their chief that the men were banditti.
This was repeated to the Queen by the officer, who also informed
Her Majesty that he was prepared to attack the supposed banditti.
Queen Christina, however, ordered him not to attack, but, after
taking the necessary precautions against treachery, to bring the chief
of the band to her carriage.
José Maria, at the request of the officer, then came forward. The
Queen thanked him for his loyalty in having assembled a body of
mounted men to ensure her safety in a district said to be infested by
brigands. ‘Place your men,’ said Her Majesty, ‘in front of the escort,
and then come yourself to the one side of my carriage, whilst the
officer in command of the cavalry rides on the other.’
After traversing the forest, José Maria asked permission to retire
with his mounted followers, and at the same time announced that he
had a boon to beg.
‘What is it?’ said Her Majesty. ‘I shall be glad to make my
acknowledgement of the service you have rendered.’
 Bowing low, he answered, ‘I am José Maria, the chief of the
banditti who infest your realms. I ask for pardon for myself and for
those of my followers who may be ready to accept it: for those who
do not accept, as they have accompanied me on the present
occasion without knowledge of my intended petition, I beg that they
be allowed to depart without hindrance.’
The Queen, after conferring with the officer in command, granted
José Maria’s prayer, on condition, however, that he should become a
chief of the ‘guardia civil’ and assist in putting down brigandage.
All the brigands accepted Her Majesty’s pardon, with the
exception of a man nicknamed ‘Veneno’ (poison), who had been
José Maria’s lieutenant.
José Maria related to us stories of the most daring robberies he
had committed, in various parts of Spain, on passengers by diligence
and other travellers. He declared that his band had never robbed or
molested the farmers or peasantry; but, on the contrary, when they
heard that a wedding or other feast was taking place, he would
appear with some of his men in smart ‘majo’ costume and bring
presents for the bridegroom and bride. Also that the Alcaldes, or
petty magistrates of the villages, were all bribed by him when a
robbery was committed in other districts than their own; and when
cavalry were sent in pursuit of the banditti, the country people never
betrayed them, but kept José Maria informed of their movements
whilst they misled his pursuers.
The brigand told us that on one occasion he had robbed an
English gentleman travelling in Andalusia on horseback, with a
Spanish guide, of their horses and everything they possessed except
the clothes they wore. ‘The Englishman,’ he added, ‘was a bright,
pleasant youth, and submitted with good humour to the robbery; so I
felt sorry, as he was forty miles from Seville, whither he was going,
that he should have to walk that distance, and I gave him back his
servant’s horse and a doubloon (sixteen dollars) out of the two
hundred dollars I had taken from him, mentioning that he might
require that money for lodging and food on the road before he had
reached his destination.’
‘My young friend,’ José continued, ‘thanked me warmly, adding
that since I had been so kind he had a great favour to ask, which
was that I should return him his gold watch as it had been the parting
gift of his dear father.’
‘Is your father alive, and does he love you very much?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied the youth, ‘he lives and loves me.’
‘Then,’ said José Maria, ‘I shall keep this watch, and as your
father loves you so dearly he is sure to give you another!’
José then gave the young Englishman a signed pass, requiring
that all brigands or thieves in Andalusia or Estramadura should
refrain from robbing or molesting the bearer. He also told him, if
robbed at any time, where to send a note which would be sure to find
him.
The Englishman spent some weeks at Seville, and, returning one
evening from Alcalá, was attacked and robbed by a man armed with
a gun. He showed the pass to the footpad, who only remarked that
he was not going to have the bread taken out of his mouth by the
brigand José Maria or any other man.
The Englishman then had a note written in Spanish and sent to
the care of the head man of a village mentioned by José Maria, to be
forwarded to the great brigand, stating the sum of money that had
been stolen from him. Within a week a Spaniard called at the hotel
where the traveller lodged and returned the money, adding, ‘The
“ratero” (thief) has been stabbed for paying no attention to José
Maria’s pass.’
After luncheon, José Maria had his horse brought for us to see. It
was a well-made Spanish ‘jinete,’ standing about 15.1, and had the
appearance of being fast. He mounted the nag and rode rapidly up a
street, presently returned at a gallop, jumped off, and, removing the
bridle, gave the animal a slap and then ran into the house. The horse
went off at full gallop and disappeared up one of the streets.
‘Now,’ said José Maria, ‘I am supposed to have committed a
robbery and to have been pursued by cavalry in a wood. I have
taken off the bridle, and my horse, if chased, will be sure from his
swiftness and being riderless, to escape. Suppose me to have
climbed a tree or hidden amongst bushes or rocks and thus eluded
my enemies.’
After a short interval he continued, ‘I must now recall the horse,
who, not being pursued, will not have gone far and is listening for my
summons.’ So, taking a large whistle from his pocket, he walked up
the street and commenced whistling. In a few minutes the horse
galloped up, neighing as he recognised his master, who put on the
bridle and caressed the intelligent beast.
‘For two years I have been employed,’ said José Maria, ‘in putting
down brigandage, and have succeeded in arresting many robbers
and “rateros,” but my late lieutenant “Veneno” has hitherto escaped
us, and some day he will kill me!’
A year after my meeting with José Maria, I saw in the newspapers
that ‘Veneno’ had been tracked by him to a cave in the mountains,
frequented by this robber and his band. The ex-brigand entered the
cave one night at the head of a body of ‘guardia civil’ and was killed
by ‘Veneno’ while in the act of arresting him. ‘Veneno’ and his
companions were then shot by José Maria’s men.
Whilst residing with my father and family in the house he had
rented in Seville, it happened on one occasion that I had dined and
spent the evening with my friend Don ———, and did not leave his
house until nearly eleven o’clock. It was fortunately bright moonlight,
for Seville was then but dimly lighted. On saying good-night, my host
accompanied me to his door and warned me to keep well in the
centre of the streets, as at that late hour wayfarers were often
attacked and robbed.
I had no weapon—not even a stick—with me. The evening was
fresh, so I threw my Spanish ‘capa’ round me and walked briskly
down the centre of the narrow streets which led to the great Plaza,
about a mile distant, near which our house was situated. Presently I
heard footsteps and, looking back, saw a figure following me, but
keeping in the shadow.
I knew I was fleet of foot, so set off running at a good pace,
feeling sure that if the fellow were dodging me he would follow. As
soon as I quickened my speed the man sprang into the light and
came after me, and I dashed on with him in pursuit. As I turned a
corner I caught sight of his long ‘navaja’ gleaming in the moonlight.
Finding my cloak heavy, I unfastened it and let it trail behind,
determined to hold on to my new capa as long as I could. However, I
soon outstripped my pursuer, and on reaching the Plaza paused to
again wrap my capa about me and to reconnoitre well before
venturing into the street where our house stood. The footpad had
vanished on seeing me reach the lit and frequented Plaza.
After this I never ventured out at night without a pistol.