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Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren. HTML version by Al Haines.
THE THRALL OF LEIF THE LUCKY
A Story of Viking Days
By Ottilie A. Liljencrantz
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Where Wolves Thrive Better than Lambs
CHAPTER II
The Maid in the Silver Helmet
CHAPTER III
A Gallant Outlaw
CHAPTER IV
In a Viking Lair
CHAPTER V
The Ire of a Shield-Maiden
CHAPTER VI
The Song of Smiting Steel
CHAPTER VII
The King's Guardsman
CHAPTER VIII
Leif the Cross-Bearer
CHAPTER IX
Before the Chieftain
CHAPTER X
The Royal Blood of Alfred
CHAPTER XI
The Passing of the Scar
CHAPTER XII
Through Bars of Ice
CHAPTER XIII
Eric the Red in His Domain
CHAPTER XIV
For the Sake of the Cross
CHAPTER XV
A Wolf-Pack in Leash
CHAPTER XVI
A Courtier of the King
CHAPTER XVII
The Wooing of Helga
CHAPTER XVIII
The Witch's Den
CHAPTER XIX
Tales of the Unknown West
CHAPTER XX
Alwin's Bane
CHAPTER XXI
The Heart of a Shield-Maiden
CHAPTER XXII
In the Shadow of the Sword
CHAPTER XXIII
A Familiar Blade in a Strange Sheath
CHAPTER XXIV
For Dear Love's Sake
CHAPTER XXV
"Where Never Man Stood Before"
CHAPTER XXVI
Vinland the Good
CHAPTER XXVII
Mightier than the Sword
CHAPTER XXVIII
"Things that are Fated"
CHAPTER XXIX
The Battle to the Strong
CHAPTER XXX
From Over the Sea
CONCLUSION
FOREWORD
THE Anglo-Saxon race was in its boyhood in the days when the Vikings
lived. Youth's fresh fires burned in men's blood; the unchastened
turbulence of youth prompted their crimes, and their good deeds were
inspired by the purity and whole-heartedness and divine simplicity of
youth. For every heroic vice, the Vikings laid upon the opposite scale
an heroic virtue. If they plundered and robbed, as most men did in the
times when Might made Right, yet the heaven-sent instinct of hospitality
was as the marrow of their bones. No beggar went from their doors
without alms; no traveller asked in vain for shelter; no guest but was
welcomed with holiday cheer and sped on his way with a gift. As
cunningly false as they were to their foes, just so superbly true were
they to their friends. The man who took his enemy's last blood-drop with
relentless hate, gave his own blood with an equally unsparing hand if in
so doing he might aid the cause of some sworn brother. Above all, they
were a race of conquerors, whose knee bent only to its proved superior.
Not to the man who was king-born merely, did their allegiance go, but to
the man who showed himself their leader in courage and their master in
skill. And so it was with their choice of a religion, when at last the
death-day of Odin dawned. Not to the God who forgives, nor to the God
who suffered, did they give their faith; but they made their vows to the
God who makes men strong, the God who is the never-dying and
all-powerful Lord of those who follow Him.
The Thrall of Leif the Lucky
CHAPTER I
WHERE WOLVES THRIVE BETTER THAN LAMBS
Vices and virtues
The sons of mortals bear
In their breasts mingled;
No one is so good That no failing attends him,
Nor so bad as to be good for nothing.
Ha'vama'l (High Song of Odin).
It was back in the tenth century, when the mighty fair-haired warriors
of Norway and Sweden and Denmark, whom the people of Southern Europe
called the Northmen, were becoming known and dreaded throughout the
world. Iceland and Greenland had been colonized by their dauntless
enterprise. Greece and Africa had not proved distant enough to escape
their ravages. The descendants of the Viking Rollo ruled in France as
Dukes of Normandy; and Saxon England, misguided by Ethelred the Unready
and harassed by Danish pirates, was slipping swiftly and surely under
Northern rule. It was the time when the priests of France added to their
litany this petition: "From the fury of the Northmen, deliver us, good
Lord."
The old, old Norwegian city of Trondhjem, which lies on Trondhjem Fiord,
girt by the river Nid, was then King Olaf Trygvasson's new city of
Nidaros, and though hardly more than a trading station, a hamlet without
streets, it was humming with prosperity and jubilant life. The shore was
fringed with ships whose gilded dragon-heads and purple-and-yellow hulls
and azure-and-scarlet sails were reflected in the waves until it seemed
as if rainbows had been melted in them. Hillside and river-bank bloomed
with the gay tents of chieftains who had come from all over the North to
visit the powerful Norwegian king. Traders had scattered booths of
tempting wares over the plain, so that it looked like fair-time. The
broad roads between the estates that clustered around the royal
residence were thronged with clanking horsemen, with richly dressed
traders followed by covered carts of precious merchandise, with
beautiful fair-haired women riding on gilded chair-like saddles, with
monks and slaves, with white-bearded lawmen and pompous landowners.
Along one of those roads that crossed the city from the west, a Danish
warrior came riding, one keen May morning, with a young English captive
tied to his saddle-bow.
The Northman was a great, hulking, wild-maned, brute-faced fellow,
capped by an iron helmet and wrapped in a mantle of coarse gray, from
whose folds the handle of a battle-axe looked out suggestively; but the
boy was of the handsomest Saxon type. Though barely seventeen, he was
man-grown, and lithe and well-shaped; and he carried himself nobly,
despite his clumsy garments of white wool. His gold-brown hair had been
clipped close as a mark of slavery, and there were fetters on his limbs;
but chains could not restrain the glance of his proud gray eyes, which
flashed defiance with every look.
Crossing the city northward, they came where a trading-booth stood on
its outskirts--an odd looking place of neatly built log walls tented
over with gay striped linen. Beyond, the plain rose in gentle hills,
which were overlooked in their turn by pine-clad snow-capped mountains.
On one side, the river hurried along in surging rapids; on the other,
one could see the broad elbow of the fiord glittering in the sun. At the
sight of the booth, the Saxon scowled darkly, while the Dane gave a
grunt of relief. Drawing rein before the door, the warrior dismounted
and pulled down his captive.
It was a scene of barbaric splendor that the gay roof covered. The walls
displayed exquisitely wrought weapons, and rare fabrics interwoven with
gleaming gold and silver threads. Piles of rich furs were heaped in the
corners, amid a medley of gilded drinking-horns and bronze vessels and
graceful silver urns. Across the back of the booth stretched a benchful
of sullen-looking creatures war-captives to be sold as slaves, native
thralls, and two Northmen enslaved for debt. In the centre of the floor,
seated upon one of his massive steel-bound chests, gorgeous in velvet
and golden chains, the trader presided over his sales like a prince on
his throne.
The Dane saluted him with a surly nod, and he answered with such smooth
words as the thrifty old Norse proverbs advise every man to practise.
"Greeting, Gorm Arnorsson! Here is great industry, if already this
Spring you have gone on a Viking voyage and gotten yourself so good a
piece of property! How came you by him?"
Gorm gave his "property" a rough push forward, and his harsh voice came
out of his bull-thick neck like a bellow. "I got him in England last
Summer. We ravaged his father's castle, I and twenty ship-mates, and
slew all his kinsmen. He comes of good blood; I am told for certain that
he is a jarl's son. And I swear he is sound in wind and limb. How much
will you pay me for him, Karl Grimsson?"
The owner of the booth stroked his long white beard and eyed the captive
critically. It seemed to him that he had never seen a king's son with a
haughtier air. The boy wore his fetters as though they had been
bracelets from the hands of Ethelred.
"Is it because you value him so highly that you keep him in chains?" he
asked.
"In that I will not deceive you," said the Dane, after a moment's
hesitation. "Though he is sound in wind and limb, he is not sound in
temper. Shortly after I got him, I sold him to Gilli the Wealthy for a
herd-boy; but because it was not to his mind on the dairy-farm, he lost
half his herd and let wolves prey on the rest, and when the headman
would have flogged him for it, he slew him. He has the temper of a black
elf."
"He does not look to be a cooing dove," the trader assented. "But how
came it that he was not slain for this? I have heard that Gilli is a
fretful man."
The Dane snorted. "More than anything else he is greedy for property,
and his wife Bertha advised him not to lose the price he had paid. It is
my belief that she has a liking for the cub; she was an English captive
before the Wealthy One married her. He followed her advice, as was to be
expected, and saddled me with the whelp when I passed through the
district yesterday. I should have sent him to Thor myself," he added
with a suggestive swing of his axe, "but that silver is useful to me
also. I go to join my shipmates in Wisby. And I am in haste, Karl
Grimsson. Take him, and let me have what you think fair."
It seemed as if the trader would never finish the meditative caressing
of his beard, but at last he arose and called for his scales. The Dane
took the little heap of silver rings weighed out to him, and strode out
of the tent. At the same time, he passed out of the English boy's life.
What a pity that the result of their short acquaintance could not have
disappeared with him!
The trader surveyed his new possession, standing straight and slim
before him. "What are you called?" he demanded. "And whence come you?
And of what kin?"
"I am called Alwin," answered the thrall; "and I come from Northumbria."
He hesitated, and the blood mounted to his face. "But I will not tell
you my father's name," he finished proudly, "that you may shame him in
shaming me."
The trader's patience was a little chafed. Peaceful merchants were also
men of war between times in those days.
Suddenly he unsheathed the sword that hung at his side, and laid its
point against the thrall's breast.
"I ask you again of what kin you come. If you do not answer now, it is
unlikely that you will be alive to answer a third question."
Perhaps young Alwin's bronzed cheeks lost a little of their color, but
his lip curled scornfully. So they stood, minute after minute, the sharp
point pricking through the cloth until the boy felt it against his skin.
Gradually the trader's face relaxed into a grim smile. "You are a young
wolf," he said at last, sheathing his weapon; "yet go and sit with the
others. It may be that wolves thrive better than lambs in the North."
CHAPTER II
THE MAID IN THE SILVER HELMET
In a maiden's words
No one should place faith,
Nor in what a woman says;
For on a turning wheel
Have their hearts been formed,
And guile in their breasts been laid.
Ha'vama'l
Day after day, week after week, Alwin sat waiting to see where the next
turn of misfortune's wheel would land him. Interesting people visited
the booth continually. Now it was a party of royal guardsmen to buy
weapons,--splendid mail-clad giants who ate at King Olaf's board, slept
a his hall, and fought to the death at his side. Again it was a
minstrel, with a harp at his back, who stopped to rest and exchange a
song for a horn of mead. Once the Queen herself, riding in a shining
gilded wagon, came in and bought some of the graceful spiral bracelets.
She said that Alwin's eyes were as bright as a young serpent's; but she
did not buy him.
The doorway framed an ever changing picture,--budding birch trees along
the river-bank; men ploughing in the valley; shepherds tending flocks
that looked like dots of cotton wool on the green hillsides. Sometimes
bands of gay folk from the King's house rode by to the hunt, spurs
jingling, horns braying, falcons at their wrists. Sometimes brawny
followers of the visiting chiefs swaggered past in groups, and the boy
could hear their shouting and laughter as they held drinking-bouts in
the hostelry near by. Occasionally their rough voices would grow
rougher, and an arrow would fly past the door; or there would be a clash
of weapons, followed by a groan.
One day, as Alwin sat looking out, his chin resting in his hand, his
elbow on his knee, his attention was caught by two riders winding
swiftly down a hill-path on the right. At first, one was only a blur of
gray and the other a flame of scarlet; they disappeared behind a grove
of aspens, then reappeared nearer, and he could make out a white beard
on the gray figure and a veil of golden hair above the scarlet kirtle.
What hair for a boy, even the noblest born! It was the custom of all
free men to wear their locks uncut; but this golden mantle! Yet could it
be a girl? Did a girl ever wear a helmet like a silver bowl, and a
kirtle that stopped at the knee? If it was a girl, she must be one of
those shield-maidens of whom the minstrels sang. Alwin watched the pair
curiously as they galloped down the last <DW72> and turned into the lane
beside the river. They must pass the booth, and then...
His brain whirled, and he stood up in his intense interest. Something
had startled the white steed that bore the scarlet kirtle; he swerved
aside and rose on his haunches with a suddenness that nearly unseated
his rider; then he took the bronze bit between his teeth and leaped
forward. Whitebeard and his bay mare were left behind. The yellow hair
streamed out like a banner; nearer, and Alwin could see that it was
indeed a girl. She wound her hands in the reins and kept her seat like a
centaur. But suddenly something gave way. Over she went, sidewise; and
by the wrist, tangled in the reins, the horse dragged her over the stony
road.
Forgetting his manacled limbs, Alwin started forward; but it was all
over in an instant. One of the trader's servants flew at the animal's
head and stopped him, almost at the door of the booth. In another moment
a crowd gathered around the fallen girl and shut her from his view.
Alwin gazed at the shifting backs with a dreadful vision of golden hair
torn and splashed with blood. She must be dead, for she had not once
screamed. His head was still ringing with the shrieks of his mother's
waiting-women, as the Danes bore them out of the burning castle.
Whitebeard came galloping up, puffing and panting. He was a puny little
German, with a face as small and withered as a winter apple, | 1,365.361031 |
2023-11-16 18:39:49.3447170 | 81 | 12 |
Produced by Judith Boss
BUNNER SISTERS
By Edith Wharton
Scribner's Magazine 60 (Oct. 1916): 439-58; 60 (Nov. 1916): 575-96.
PART I
I
In the days when New York's traffic moved at the pace of the drooping
horse-car, when | 1,365.364757 |
2023-11-16 18:39:49.3468800 | 1,685 | 9 | II (OF 8)***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, jayam, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/)
PROCOPIUS
With an English Translation by H. B. Dewing
In Seven Volumes
I
HISTORY OF THE WARS, BOOKS I AND II
London
William Heinemann Ltd
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Harvard University Press
MCMLXXI
First Printed 1914
CONTENTS
HISTORY OF THE WARS--
PAGE
INTRODUCTION vii
BIBLIOGRAPHY xv
BOOK I.--THE PERSIAN WAR 1
BOOK II.--THE PERSIAN WAR (_continued_) 259
INTRODUCTION
Procopius is known to posterity as the historian of the eventful reign
of Justinian (527-565 A.D.), and the chronicler of the great deeds of
the general Belisarius. He was born late in the fifth century in the
city of Caesarea in Palestine. As to his education and early years we
are not informed, but we know that he studied to fit himself for the
legal profession. He came as a young man to Constantinople, and seems to
have made his mark immediately. For as early as the year 527 he was
appointed legal adviser and private secretary[1] to Belisarius, then a
very young man who had been serving on the staff of the general
Justinian, and had only recently been advanced to the office of general.
Shortly after this Justinian was called by his uncle Justinus to share
the throne of the Roman Empire, and four months later Justinus died,
leaving Justinian sole emperor of the Romans. Thus the stage was set for
the scenes which are presented in the pages of Procopius. His own
activity continued till well nigh the end of Justinian's life, and he
seems to have outlived his hero, Belisarius.
During the eventful years of Belisarius' campaigning in Africa, in
Italy, and in the East, Procopius was moving about with him and was an
eye-witness of the events he describes in his writings. In 527 we find
him in Mesopotamia; in 533 he accompanied Belisarius to Africa; and in
536 he journeyed with him to Italy. He was therefore quite correct in
the assertion which he makes rather modestly in the introduction of his
history, that he was better qualified than anyone else to write the
history of that period. Besides his intimacy with Belisarius it should
be added that his position gave him the further advantage of a certain
standing at the imperial court in Constantinople, and brought him the
acquaintance of many of the leading men of his day. Thus we have the
testimony of one intimately associated with the administration, and
this, together with the importance of the events through which he lived,
makes his record exceedingly interesting as well as historically
important. One must admit that his position was not one to encourage
impartiality in his presentation of facts, and that the imperial favour
was not won by plain speaking; nevertheless we have before us a man who
could not obliterate himself enough to play the abject flatterer always,
and he gives us the reverse, too, of his brilliant picture, as we shall
see presently.
Procopius' three works give us a fairly complete account of the reign of
Justinian up till near the year 560 A.D., and he has done us the favour
of setting forth three different points of view which vary so widely
that posterity has sometimes found it difficult to reconcile them. His
greatest work, as well as his earliest, is the _History of the Wars_, in
eight books. The material is not arranged strictly according to
chronological sequence, but so that the progress of events may be traced
separately in each one of three wars. Thus the first two books are given
over to the Persian wars, the next two contain the account of the war
waged against the Vandals in Africa, the three following describe the
struggle against the Goths in Italy. These seven books were published
together first, and the eighth book was added later as a supplement to
bring the history up to about the date of 554, being a general account
of events in different parts of the empire. It is necessary to bear in
mind that the wars described separately by Procopius overlapped one
another in time, and that while the Romans were striving to hold back
the Persian aggressor they were also maintaining armies in Africa and in
Italy. In fact the Byzantine empire was making a supreme effort to
re-establish the old boundaries, and to reclaim the territories lost to
the barbarian nations. The emperor Justinian was fired by the ambition
to make the Roman Empire once more a world power, and he drained every
resource in his eagerness to make possible the fulfilment of this dream.
It was a splendid effort, but it was doomed to failure; the fallen
edifice could not be permanently restored.
The history is more general than the title would imply, and all the
important events of the time are touched upon. So while we read much of
the campaigns against the nations who were crowding back the boundaries
of the old empire, we also hear of civic affairs such as the great Nika
insurrection in Byzantium in 532; similarly a careful account is given
of the pestilence of 540, and the care shewn in describing the nature of
the disease shews plainly that the author must have had some
acquaintance with the medical science of the time.
After the seventh book of the _History of the Wars_ Procopius wrote the
_Anecdota_, or _Secret History_. Here he freed himself from all the
restraints of respect or fear, and set down without scruple everything
which he had been led to suppress or gloss over in the _History_ through
motives of policy. He attacks unmercifully the emperor and empress and
even Belisarius and his wife Antonina, and displays to us one of the
blackest pictures ever set down in writing. It is a record of wanton
crime and shameless debauchery, of intrigue and scandal both in public
and in private life. It is plain that the thing is overdone, and the
very extravagance of the calumny makes it impossible to be believed;
again and again we meet statements which, if not absolutely impossible,
are at least highly improbable. Many of the events of the _History_ are
presented in an entirely new light; we seem to hear one speaking out of
the bitterness of his heart. It should be said, at the same time, that
there are very few contradictions in statements of fact. The author has
plainly singled out the empress Theodora as the principal victim of his
venomous darts, and he gives an account of her early years which is both
shocking and disgusting, but which, happily, we are not forced to regard
as true. It goes without saying that such a work as this could not have
been published during the lifetime of the author, and it appears that it
was not given to the world until after the death of Justinian in 565.
Serious doubts have been entertained in times past as to the
authenticity of the _Anecdota_, for at first sight it seems impossible
that the man who wrote in the calm tone of the _History_ and who
indulged in the fulsome praise of the panegyric _On the Buildings_ could
have also written the bitter libels of the _Anecdota_. It has come to be
seen, however, that this feeling is not supported by any unanswerable
arguments, and it is now believed to be highly probable at least, that | 1,365.36692 |
2023-11-16 18:39:49.4365000 | 3,115 | 10 |
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PRICE $6.00
62D CONGRESS
SENATE {DOCUMENT
_2d Session_
{NO. 933
LOSS OF THE
STEAMSHIP "TITANIC"
REPORT
OF A FORMAL INVESTIGATION INTO THE
CIRCUMSTANCES ATTENDING THE FOUNDERING
ON APRIL 15, 1912, OF THE BRITISH
STEAMSHIP "TITANIC," OF LIVERPOOL,
AFTER STRIKING ICE IN OR NEAR LATITUDE
41 deg. 46' N., LONGITUDE 50 deg. 14' W.,
NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN, AS CONDUCTED
BY THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT
[Illustration: colophon]
PRESENTED BY MR. SMITH OF MICHIGAN
AUGUST 20, 1912.--Ordered to be printed with illustrations
WASHINGTON
1912
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Page.
Introduction 7
I. Description of the ship 10
The White Star Co. 10
The steamship Titanic 11
Detailed description 13
Water-tight compartments 14
Decks and accommodation 16
Structure 23
Life-saving appliances 25
Pumping arrangements 26
Electrical installation 27
Machinery 29
General 31
Crew and passengers 32
II. Account of the ship's journey across the Atlantic, the messages
she received, and the disaster 32
The sailing orders 32
The route followed 33
Ice messages received 35
Speed of the ship 39
The weather conditions 40
Action that should have been taken 40
The collision 41
III. Description of the damage to the ship and of its gradual
and final effect, with observations thereon 42
Extent of the damage 42
Time in which the damage was done 42
The flooding in the first 10 minutes 42
Gradual effect of the damage 43
Final effect of the damage 44
Observations 45
Effect of additional subdivision upon floatation 46
IV. Account of the saving and rescue of those who survived 48
The boats 48
Conduct of Sir C. Duff Gordon and Mr. Ismay 53
The third-class passengers 53
Means taken to procure assistance 54
The rescue by the steamship "Carpathia" 54
Numbers saved 55
V. The circumstances in connection with the steamship "Californian" 56
VI. The Board of Trade's administration 60
VII. Finding of the court 77
VIII. Recommendations 85
Water-tight subdivision 85
Lifeboats and rafts 86
Manning the boats and boat drills 87
General 87
REPORT ON THE LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP "TITANIC."
THE MERCHANTS SHIPPING ACTS, 1894 TO 1906.
In the matter of the formal investigation held at the Scottish
Hall, Buckingham Gate, Westminster, on May 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14,
15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24, June 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 11, 12,
13, 14, 17, 18, 19, 21, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, and 29; at the Caxton
Hall, Caxton Street, Westminster, on July 1 and 3; and at the
Scottish Hall, Buckingham Gate, Westminster, on July 30, 1912,
before the Right Hon. Lord Mersey, Wreck Commissioner, assisted by
Rear Admiral the Hon. S. A. Gough-Calthorpe, C. V. O., R. N.; Capt.
A. W. Clarke; Commander F. C. A. Lyon, R. N. R.; Prof. J. H. Biles,
D. Sc., LL. D. and Mr. E. C. Chaston, R. N. R., as assessors, into
the circumstances attending the loss of the steamship _Titanic_, of
Liverpool, and the loss of 1,490 lives in the North Atlantic Ocean,
in lat. 41 deg. 46' N., long. 50 deg. 14' W. on April 15 last.
REPORT OF THE COURT.
The court, having carefully inquired into the circumstances of the
above-mentioned shipping casualty, finds, for the reasons appearing in
the annex hereto, that the loss of the said ship was due to collision
with an iceberg, brought about by the excessive speed at which the ship
was being navigated.
Dated this 30th day of July, 1912.
MERSEY,
_Wreck Commissioner_.
We concur in the above report.
ARTHUR GOUGH-CALTHORPE,
A. W. CLARKE,
F. C. A. LYON,
J. H. BILES,
EDWARD C. CHASTON,
_Assessors_.
LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP "TITANIC."
REPORT OF A FORMAL INVESTIGATION INTO THE CIRCUMSTANCES ATTENDING
THE FOUNDERING ON APRIL 15, 1912, OF THE BRITISH STEAMSHIP TITANIC,
OF LIVERPOOL, AFTER STRIKING ICE IN OR NEAR LATITUDE 41 deg. 46' N.,
LONGITUDE 50 deg. 14' W., NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN, WHEREBY LOSS OF LIFE
ENSUED.
ANNEX TO THE REPORT.
INTRODUCTION.
On April 23, 1912, the Lord Chancellor appointed a wreck commissioner
under the merchant shipping acts, and on April 26 the home secretary
nominated five assessors. On April 30 the board of trade requested that
a formal investigation of the circumstances attending the loss of the
steamship _Titanic_ should be held, and the court accordingly commenced
to sit on May 2. Since that date there have been 37 public sittings, at
which 97 witnesses have been examined, while a large number of
documents, charts, and plans have been produced. The 26 questions
formulated by the board of trade, which are set out in detail below,
appear to cover all the circumstances to be inquired into. Briefly
summarized, they deal with the history of the ship, her design,
construction, size, speed, general equipment, life-saving apparatus,
wireless installation, her orders and course, her passengers, her crew,
their training, organization and discipline; they request an account of
the casualty, its cause and effect, and of the means taken for saving
those on board the ship; and they call for a report on the efficiency of
the rules and regulations made by the board of trade under the merchant
shipping acts and on their administration, and, finally, for any
recommendations to obviate similar disasters which may appear to the
court to be desirable. The 26 questions, as subsequently amended, are
here attached:
1. When the _Titanic_ left Queenstown on or about April 11 last--
(_a_) What was the total number of persons employed in any capacity on
board her, and what were their respective ratings?
(_b_) What was the total number of her passengers, distinguishing sexes
and classes, and discriminating between adults and children?
2. Before leaving Queenstown on or about April 11 last did the _Titanic_
comply with the requirements of the merchant shipping acts, 1894-1906,
and the rules and regulations made thereunder with regard to the safety
and otherwise of "passenger steamers" and "emigrant ships"?
3. In the actual design and construction of the _Titanic_ what special
provisions were made for the safety of the vessel and the lives of those
on board in the event of collisions and other casualties?
4. Was the _Titanic_ sufficiently and efficiently officered and manned?
Were the watches of the officers and crew usual and proper? Was the
_Titanic_ supplied with proper charts?
5. What was the number of the boats of any kind on board the _Titanic_?
Were the arrangements for manning and launching the boats on board the
_Titanic_ in case of emergency proper and sufficient? Had a boat drill
been held on board; and, if so, when? What was the carrying capacity of
the respective boats?
6. What installations for receiving and transmitting messages by
wireless telegraphy were on board the _Titanic_? How many operators were
employed on working such installations? Were the installations in good
and effective working order, and were the number of operators sufficient
to enable messages to be received and transmitted continuously by day
and night?
7. At or prior to the sailing of the _Titanic_ what, if any,
instructions as to navigation were given to the master or known by him
to apply to her voyage? Were such instructions, if any, safe, proper,
and adequate, having regard to the time of year and dangers likely to be
encountered during the voyage?
8. What was in fact the track taken by the _Titanic_ in crossing the
Atlantic Ocean? Did she keep to the track usually followed by liners on
voyages from the United Kingdom to New York in the month of April? Are
such tracks safe tracks at that time of the year? Had the master any,
and, if so, what, discretion as regards the track to be taken?
9. After leaving Queenstown on or about April 11 last did information
reach the _Titanic_ by wireless messages or otherwise by signals of the
existence of ice in certain latitudes? If so, what were such messages or
signals and when were they received, and in what position or positions
was the ice reported to be, and was the ice reported in or near the
track actually being followed by the _Titanic_? Was her course altered
in consequence of receiving such information; and, if so, in what way?
What replies to such messages or signals did the _Titanic_ send, and at
what times?
10. If at the times referred to in the last preceding question or later
the _Titanic_ was warned of or had reason to suppose she would encounter
ice, at what time might she have reasonably expected to encounter it?
Was a good and proper lookout for ice kept on board? Were any, and, if
so, what, directions given to vary the speed; if so, were they carried
out?
11. Were binoculars provided for and used by the lookout men? Is the use
of them necessary or usual in such circumstances? Had the _Titanic_ the
means of throwing searchlights around her? If so, did she make use of
them to discover ice? Should searchlights have been provided and used?
12. What other precautions were taken by the _Titanic_ in anticipation
of meeting ice? Were they such as are usually adopted by vessels being
navigated in waters where ice may be expected to be encountered?
13. Was ice seen and reported by anybody on board the _Titanic_ before
the casualty occurred? If so, what measures were taken by the officer on
watch to avoid it? Were they proper measures and were they promptly
taken?
14. What was the speed of the _Titanic_ shortly before and at the moment
of the casualty? Was such speed excessive under the circumstances?
15. What was the nature of the casualty which happened to the _Titanic_
at or about 11.45 p. m. on April 14 last? In what latitude and longitude
did the casualty occur?
16. What steps were taken immediately on the happening of the casualty?
How long after the casualty was its seriousness realized by those in
charge of the vessel? What steps were then taken? What endeavors were
made to save the lives of those on board and to prevent the vessel from
sinking?
17. Was proper discipline maintained on board after the casualty
occurred?
18. What messages for assistance were sent by the _Titanic_ after the
casualty, and at what times, respectively? What messages were received
by her in response, and at what times, respectively? By what vessels
were the messages that were sent by the _Titanic_ received, and from
what vessels did she receive answers? What vessels other than the
_Titanic_ sent or received messages at or shortly after the casualty in
connection with such casualty? What were the vessels that sent or
received such messages? Were any vessels prevented from going to the
assistance of the _Titanic_ or her boats owing to messages received from
the _Titanic_ or owing to any erroneous messages being sent or received?
In regard to such erroneous messages, from what vessels were they sent
and by what vessels were they received, and at what times, respectively?
19. Was the apparatus for lowering the boats on the _Titanic_ at the
time of the casualty in good working order? Were the boats swung out,
filled, lowered, or otherwise put into the water and got away under
proper superintendence? Were the boats sent away in seaworthy condition
and properly manned, equipped, and provisioned? Did the boats, whether
those under davits or otherwise, prove to be efficient and serviceable
for the purpose of saving life?
20. What was the number of (_a_) passengers, (_b_) crew taken away in
each boat on leaving the vessel? How was this number made up, having
regard to (1) sex, (2) class, (3) rating? How many were children and how
many adults? Did each boat carry its full load; and if not, why not?
21. How many persons on board the _Titanic_ at the time of the casualty
were ultimately | 1,365.45654 |
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Gutenberg
Department of the Interior
Ethnological Survey Publications
Volume IV, Part II
THE HISTORY OF SULU
By
NAJEEB M. SALEEBY
Manila
Bureau of Public Printing
1908
CONTENTS
PART II
Page.
Preface 117
Chapter I
Geographical Description of the Sulu Archipelago 121
In general 121
Island of Sulu 127
Geographical features 127
Principal coast settlements 129
Districts of the island 131
Town of Jolo 133
General plan, buildings and streets 133
Trade 137
Population 144
Chapter II
Genealogy of Sulu 147
Translator's introduction 147
Sulu author's introduction 147
Descendants of Asip 148
Descendants of Tuan Masha'ika 149
Original and later settlers of Sulu 149
Sulu historical notes 151
Introduction 151
Sulu notes 152
Chapter III
Rise and Prosperity of Sulu 155
Sulu before Islam 155
Introduction of Islam and the rise of a Mohammedan
dynasty in Sulu 158
Establishment of the Mohammedan Church in Sulu and the
reign of Abu Bakr 161
Early days of the sultanate 163
Successors of Abu Bakr 163
Figueroa's expedition against Sulu 164
Reasons for hostilities 168
Rule of Batara Shah Tangah 171
Figueroa's expedition against Mindanao 172
Moro raids 175
First Spanish conquest and occupation of Sulu 177
Sulu supremacy in the Archipelago 179
Successors of Bungsu 179
Reign of Sultan Alimud Din I 180
Reign of Sultan Israel 187
Moro pirates 191
Treaty of 1836 with the Sultan of Sulu 194
Text of the treaty 194
Ratification of the treaty by the Queen Regent
of Spain 196
Expedition of Governor Claveria 199
Visits to Jolo of Captain Henry Keppel and Sir
James Brooke 201
Chapter IV
Decline of Sulu 205
Expedition against Jolo 205
Treaty of April 30, 1851 209
Translation of the Sulu text of the treaty of 1851 212
Politico-military government of Mindanao and adjacent
islands 214
Chapter V
Sulu Under Spanish Sovereignty 221
Occupation of Jolo 221
Rule of Sultan Jamalul A'lam 224
Cession of possessions in Borneo to British North
Borneo Company 225
Treaty of July, 1878 226
Translation of the Spanish copy of the treaty 227
Translation of the Sulu text of the treaty 229
Rule of Sultan Badarud Din II 233
Struggle for the sultanate 237
Rule of Sultan Harun 240
Rule of Sultan Jamalul Kiram II 244
Chapter VI
Conclusion 247
Political status of Sulu at the time of Spanish
evacuation 247
Spanish policy 249
Attitude of the Moros 249
Mistakes and difficulties of Spanish rule 251
Report of Baltasar Giraudier 254
Views of Espina 255
Purpose of Spain 256
Resources of Spain 260
Appendixes
Appendix I. The pacification of Mindanao by Ronquillo 269
II. The pacification of Mindanao 275
III. The Moro raids of 1599 and 1600 279
IV. Gallinato's expedition to Jolo 283
V. Olaso's expedition in 1629 289
VI. Corcuera's campaign in Jolo 291
VII. Obando's report on the preparations to be
undertaken to return Alimud Din to Sulu 305
VIII. Obando's report on the circumstances
attending the attempt to return Alimud
Din to Sulu 307
IX. Report on the occupation of Palawan and
Balabak 313
X. A brief report on the expedition to take
possession of Palawan 317
XI. The letter of the King of Spain to Sultan
Israel 319
XII. Letter from the captain-general of the
Philippines forwarding a copy of the treaty
of peace, protection, and commerce with Sulu 321
XIII. Royal directions relative to commerce with
Sulu, and the advisability of making
Zamboanga a free port 325
XIV. Camba's report on the circumstances
attending the treaty of 1836 and its bases 333
XV. Camba's report on commerce with Sulu and
the advisability of making Zamboanga a free
port 339
XVI. Communication from the governor of Zamboanga
to the supreme government of the Philippines,
relative to the treaty of Sir James Brooke
with the Sultan of Sulu 345
XVII. Communication from the supreme government of
the Philippines to the secretary of state,
relative to the treaty of Sir James Brooke
with the Sultan of Sulu 355
XVIII. Regulations relative to taxes and imposts
on natives and immigrants in Sulu 359
XIX. The protocol of Sulu, of 1877, between
Spain, Germany, and Great Britain 367
XX. The protocol of Sulu of 1885, between Spain,
Germany, and Great Britain 371
XXI. Decree of the general government in regard
to payment of tribute by Sulus 375
XXII. Royal communications relative to the rights
of foreigners to the pearl fisheries of Sulu 377
XXIII. Royal directions relative to the treatment
of foreigners engaged in pearl fishing in
the Sulu waters 383
XXIV. La Torre's views on the policy that should
be adopted in Mindanao and Sulu 385
Maps and Diagrams
Map I. The Sulu Archipelago Frontispiece
Facing page--
II. Sulu Island 128
III. Sketch of Jolo before 1888 134
IV. Sketch of Jolo at the present time 134
Diagram 1. Sultans and royal datus of Sulu 158
2. Datus of Sulu not descended from Abu Bakr 158
PREFACE
The first object sought in the search for the Genealogy of Sulu was
a knowledge of those significant historical events of Sulu which
antedated the Spanish discovery and conquest of the Philippine
Islands, the connection which those events might have had with the
earlier history of the other islands and the light that they might
throw upon the subject of prehistoric Malayan immigration to the | 1,365.459665 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE HOSPITAL BULLETIN
Published Monthly in the Interest of the Medical Department
of the University of Maryland
PRICE $1.00 PER YEAR
Contributions invited from the Alumni of the University.
Business Address, Baltimore, Md.
Entered at the Baltimore Post-office
as Second Class Matter.
VOL. V BALTIMORE, Md., APRIL 15, 1909 No. 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ETHICS OF THE GENERAL PRACTITIONER.
_An Address delivered Before the University of
Maryland Medical Association,
March 16, 1909_,
BY GUY STEELE, M. D.
Of Cambridge, Md.
A celebrated divine once said that the most difficult part of a sermon
was the selection of a proper text. I must thank the President of this
society for saving me this trouble. When, however, Webster's is
consulted for a proper definition of the word "Ethics," and it is found
to mean "The science of human duty," it would seem that he has chosen a
text almost too comprehensive for the limits of a short paper, even when
restricted to the "ethics of the medical profession." It may not be out
of place to thank him for the honor he has conferred upon me by deeming
one whose student days are scarce twelve years behind him worthy of
presenting this subject to you, for a paper on this topic is almost of
itself a sermon, and we naturally look up to those, whose many years of
experience and works have brought them prominence, for instruction in
morals and duty. Still, I take it, whether young or old, all of us like
to preach on fitting occasions, and not the least part of the
inspiration to effort is the character of the audience. My invitation
was to read a paper before the Clinical Society, and incidentally I was
told that some of the students had expressed a desire to be present.
Little, however, did I anticipate such a flattering attendance from them
when examination time so nearly approached, and it is evidence of a most
commendable spirit when they can bring themselves to take even an hour
of their most valuable time from study to devote to a consideration of
the moral duties and responsibilities which shall be theirs when they
shall have passed through the April ordeal. Much that I have to say
tonight will be directed especially to them, and if they or their elders
in the profession may in the years to come look back upon this night
with the recollection that I have more forcibly brought to mind some of
the old and half-forgotten maxims and axioms that make for a better and
purer professional life, I will have been more than repaid for the time
I have expended in the preparation of this paper.
In discussing the ethics of the general practitioner towards his
patient, I would have you remember that your first and most important
duty is to give to those who trust you the very best that is in you.
To you young men, full of enthusiasm for your new profession, and imbued
with Utopian ideas of the mission which you have undertaken for the good
of mankind, it would seem almost foolish for me to mention this as the
first advice I would offer you. But I think I can see a smile of
understanding flit across the faces of those who have for some years
fought the battle of life, and who have had the wire edge of early
ambitions and determinations blunted by contact with unappreciative
patients and unworthy professional competition and the daily incidents
of a busy life. They know that it is very easy to feel too tired, or be
too busy, or have some other engrossing affair in mind which prevents
that entire devotion to duty which all admit is essential to success in
medicine. Half of success in life or in any undertaking is due to a
successful start; therefore, let me ask you to firmly determine on one
or two fixed principles, and to stick to those principles through thick
and thin. Be fully assured that no halfway devotion to your profession
will ever bring you prominence or success. The time-worn phrase that
"Medicine is a jealous mistress" loses none of its truth by frequent
repetition. Recently I saw in a prominent medical journal the advice
given that doctors should take a prominent part in politics and bring
themselves forward in other ways, and that thereby in some way unknown
to me the glory of the profession would be enhanced, and much benefit
result to the community. Far be it from me to discourage a proper civic
spirit and a proper interest in public affairs, or to advise an
avoidance of any duty which good citizenship imposes upon every honest,
patriotic man, whatever his business or profession. But I take it that
no more baneful, no more dangerous advice can be given to our young
professional man than this. You cannot be successful in both politics
and medicine, and while we can point to one member of our profession in
the United States Senate, and to some notable exceptions in our own
State, where men of our profession have, for a time, abandoned medicine
and returned to it to win success, you can rest assured that the medical
politician possesses little beyond a musty diploma to remind the world
that he was once of our cult. So don't be a halfway politician and
halfway doctor. Success in either field will take all of your best
effort and all of your time.
What I have said of politics will apply, though not quite so forcibly,
to any other engrossing business or pleasure. Time forb | 1,365.46056 |
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PRECIOUS MEMORIES
SIXTEENTH BOOK OF THE
FAITH PROMOTING SERIES
DESIGNED FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND
ENCOURAGEMENT OF YOUNG
LATTER-DAY SAINTS
COMPILED AND PUBLISHED BY
GEO. C. LAMBERT
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
1914
PREFACE
The assurances received of the beneficial effects of the earlier
volumes of the Faith-Promoting Series encourage the hope and belief
that the present volume may be none the less helpful and appreciated.
Narratives of personal experience, especially when they relate to
people familiar to the reader or the community in which he lives
possess a peculiar charm to most people, and especially to the young,
and may convey helpful lessons more effectually than homilies or
treatises, however carefully written, are apt to. The reason therefor
probably is that in the narrative the moral is applied in real
experience whereas in the treatise or homily the moral is expressed in
the abstract only, and doubt may exist in the mind of the reader as to
just how to apply it in real life.
The hope is entertained that not only may the narratives contained
in this volume entertain and at the same time tend to promote faith
in those who read them, but that they may also incite others in the
community whose lives have been fraught with incidents that would
be faith-promoting if published to have the same reduced to writing
and supply us therewith for use in the Faith-Promoting Series, or
else furnish us with the facts and allow us to prepare the same for
publication.
G. C. L.
CONTENTS
SUFFERING AND SERVICE OF THOMAS BRIGGS.
CHAPTER I.
Withered Limb Restored to Use--Sister and Mother Instantly
Healed--Saints Preserved in Cholera Epidemic--Prophetic Advice to
the Briggs Family--Consequences of Failure to Follow it--Voyage
to America--The Mother Healed in Answer to Prayer--Satanic Threat
Fulfilled in Mother's Death--Sickness and Recovery of Thomas--His
Marriage--Premonition of Death--Death of Father.
CHAPTER II.
Thomas' Responsibility--Journey to Wisconsin--Disappointment--A New
Home Sought--Strenuous Life--Knee Injured--Intense Suffering--Given Up
to Die--Stimulating Vision--Birth of a Daughter--Novel Runaway--Remedy
for his Lameness--Sundry Efforts to Earn a Living--Chinch Bugs Threaten
Destruction of Crop--Crop Saved by Inspiration.
CHAPTER III.
Start to Utah--Obstacles in Traveling--Strained From
Over-Lifting--Halted Through Illness--Journey to Utah Abandoned--Go to
Springfield, Illinois--New Occupation--Money Made and Lost--Journey
Resumed--Providentially Helped--Unexpected Meeting of Relatives--Work
at Outfitting Post--Journey Across the Plains--Arrival in Salt Lake
City.
CHAPTER IV.
Locates in Bountiful--Generosity of Neighbors--Recognized Home Shown
Him in Dream--Burned Out--Runs a Saw Mill--Death of Wife--Child
Terribly Scalded, Recovers--Brigham Young's Promise--Marries
Again--Comforting Testimonies.
CHAPTER V.
Unstinted Service--Inspiration--Goes to the Northwestern States
as a Missionary--Health Fails and he Returns--Shocking Death of
Son David--Limb Amputated--Patriarchal Blessing--Incident in Logan
Temple--Trip to England to Obtain Genealogy.
CHAPTER VI.
His Life's Mission Found--Extensive Genealogy Obtained--Blessed in
His Wives and Children--Death of Wife and Others--Third Marriage--Leg
Amputated a Second Time--His Benediction.
GEORGE L. FARRELL'S MISSIONARY EXPERIENCE.
CHAPTER I.
Visits Birmingham Conference--Dying Girl Healed When Administered
to--Prediction That She Should Be Baptised Fulfilled--Goes to Utah,
Gets Married, Has a Child and Dies--Other Conversions in the Challis
Family.
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Clark's Intolerance--Elder Farrell's Influence Over Him--Baptisms
in Stanwick--Clark Family Migrate.
PREPARED FOR THE GOSPEL.
John Anderson's Search for the Truth--Providential Way | 1,365.554865 |
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Transcriber's Note
Certain typographical features, such as italic font, cannot be
reproduced in this version of the text. Any italicized font is
delimited with the underscore character as _italic_. Any "small cap"
text is shifted to all uppercase.
There are two footnotes, which have been repositioned to follow
the paragraph in which they are referenced.
Illustrations, of course, cannot be provided here, but their
approximate positions in the text are indicated as:
[Illustration: caption]
Please consult the more detailed notes at the end of this text for
the resolution of any other issues that were encountered.
"BROKE"
_THE MAN WITHOUT THE DIME_
[Illustration: _As Himself_]
[Illustration: "_Broke_" _THE AUTHOR_]
"BROKE"
_THE MAN WITHOUT THE DIME_
BY
EDWIN A. BROWN
ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
[Illustration]
CHICAGO
BROWNE & HOWELL COMPANY
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913
BY BROWNE & HOWELL COMPANY
_Copyright in England_
_All rights reserved_
PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1913
THE. PLIMPTON. PRESS
NORWOOD. MASS. U.S.A
TO
THAT VAST ARMY, WHO, WITHOUT
ARMS OF BURNISHED STEEL, FIGHT
WITH BARE HANDS FOR EXISTENCE
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
_What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;.
That to the height of this argument
I may assert eternal Providence
And justify the ways of God to | 1,365.555063 |
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Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Christine D. and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's notes:
Original spelling and puctuation were retained, including u/v and
i/j substitution. Text has been put on the left side of the dividing
line and notes on the right to make the plain text version easier to
work with. Some of the Latin note text was illegible, many thanks to
the Distributed Proofreaders Volunteers who helped look up the
references in various internet sources.]
THE PRAISE OF A
GODLY WOMAN.
A Sermon preached at the Solemne Funerall
of the Right Honourable Ladie, the Ladie
FRANCES ROBERTS, at _Lanhide-rock-Church_
in _Cornwall_ the tenth of
August, 1626.
By
HANNIBALL GAMON, Minister of the word
of God, at S^t. _Maugan_ in the same Countie.
_1 Cor. 4. 5._
Therefore iudge nothing before the time, vntill the Lord come, who
will bring to light the hidden things of darknesse, and will manifest
the counsells of the hearts, and then shall euery man haue praise of
God.
_Galath. 3. 28._
{ Neither Iew nor Greek,
There is { Neither Bond nor Free,
{ Neither Male nor Female, for yee are all one in Christ Iesus.
S^t. Hierom. Eustoch.
_----In seruitute Christi nequaquam Differentia sexuum valet,
sed mentium._
Idem ad Principiam.
_Non facie vllam inter Sanctas Feminas Differentiam, quod Nonnulli
inter Sanctos Viros & Ecclesiarum Principes, stulte facere
consueverunt._
LONDON,
Printed by _I.H._ for _Iohn Grismond_, and are to be sold at his shop in
_Ivie-Lane_ at the signe of the Gunne. 1627.
TO THE TRVLY
NOBLE IOHN ROBERTS,
Son and Heire to the Right
Honourable RICHARD _Lord_ ROBERTS
of _Truro_: the Vnualuable Riches of
sincere Grace here, and of Eternall
Glory hereafter.
HONOVRABLE SIR,
Although it bee true (which a |
worthy Diuine[a] obserueth) that | [Note a: M^r. _Bolter_ Disc. of
formall Hypocrites are heartned and | true Happinesse, p. 61.]
hardned in their lewd courses & |
false conceits of happinesse, when |
they heare more infamous Sinners |
than themselues, gloriously and |
flatteringly commended at their |
Deaths; yet we need not feare any |
such bad effect by the |
Funerall-commendation of Gods true |
Saints; because the publike |
Testimonie of their iust Praises |
doth not onely make the wicked more |
inexcusable, and the Glory of Gods |
Graces shine farre brighter to |
Posteritie; but also enkindleth in |
the hearts of the godly a greater |
fire of Zeale for imitation. These | [Note b: _Psalm. 37. 37. Deut.
are some of the Ends, why it hath | 34. 7, 10, 11, 12. Hebr._ 3. 2. &
euer been and is still an | 11. cap._]
vnreproueable Custome in Gods |
Church, that the Godly should be | [Note c: _2 Chron. 32. 33._]
_Marked_[b] and _Honoured_[c] at |
their Deaths, as _Hezekiah_ was by |
all _Iudah_ & _Ierusalem_: |
_Valentinean_, _Satyrus_ and |
_Theodosius_ by Saint _Ambrose_[A]: | [Note A: _S. Ambr. tom. 3._]
_Basil_, _Gregory_ and _Gorgonia_ |
by _Nazianzen_[B]: _Nepotian_, | [Note B: _Greg. Nazian._
_Paula_ and _Marcella_ by _S. | { 30.
Ierom_[C]. Had not their Holy Liues | _Orat._ { 28.
and Happie Deaths beene published | { 25.]
by such vnpartiall Pens, wee should |
haue bin ignorant now of many | [Note C: _S. Ierom._
excellent Courses of sanctified Men | { _Heliod._
and Women, of many comfortable | { _Eustoch._
workings of the Holy Ghost in them, | _Ad_ { _Princip._
and should haue wanted many | { _Ocean._]
inflaming Motiues to follow their |
religious steps. Vpon this | [Note d: _Testor Iesum cui illa
consideration I was bold to commend | seruiuit & ego seruire cupio, me
vnto Gods people the more than | utramq, in part[=e] nihil fingere;
Ordinary passages of your | sed quasi Christian[=u] de
Honourable Mothers Holy Life and | Christiana quae sunt vera proferre,
Death: wherein I haue as a | id est, Historiam scribere non
Christian spoken the truth of a | Panegyricum. S. Ierom, Epitaph.
Christian, that is, (as Saint | Paulae._]
_Ierom_[d] protesteth in a like |
case) made a true Narration; not a |
Vain-glorious Panegyrick. Let Poets |
and Oratours praise those women, |
which _Poppaea_-like[e], are graced | [Note e: _Poppaea cuncta alia fuere
with all other things sauing a | praeter Honestum animum. Tacit.
Gracious Heart: Let them commend | Annal. l. 13._]
their Wit, Wealth, Beautie, |
Nobilitie, and other Gifts of |
Fortune (as they call them) in |
stead of Vertues[f]. Wee the | [Note f: _Laudauit ipse Nero apud
Ministers of Christ, and Stewards | rostra formam eius & quod diuinae
of the Mysteries of God, must | formae parens fuisset, aliaque
adorne none with the Honourable | fortunae munera pro Virtutibus. Id.
Attributes of Heauenly Praise; but | Annal. l. 16._]
such as are truly beautified, |
enriched, and ennobled with the |
Purity and Power of Gods Feare in | [Note A: _Esai. 61. 3._]
their Humble Soules[A]. This praise |
the Lord will Prosper[g], which is | [Note g: _Eccles. 15. 10._]
vttered in that _Wisdome_[h], |
whereof the _Feare of the Lord is | [Note h: _Prou. 9. 10._]
the beginning_. But for the Saints |
themselues: I dare say with Saint | [Note i: _Epist. 125._ where S.
_Augustine_[i], that they desire | _Augustine_ refuseth to commend
more the Imitation, than the | vnto a wicked Husb[=a]d his godly
Commendation of their vertues: and | wife that was dead, not onely
therefore to tell you the truth (as | because she desired not his praise,
the same Father doth his friend) | saying: _Laudem ab hominibus iam
you should neuer haue heard mee | illa non quaerit, imitationem vero
commend this deceased Lady, but in | tu[=a] tantum quaerit etiam
hope, that Gods Graces in Her might | defuncta, quantum te dilexit etiam
by this meanes, suruiue in your | dissimilem viua_; but also because
religious Imitation, and not only | her Husband loued Her not, which he
in you and all them that are of Her | proueth thus: _Nam utiq si amares,
bloud; but also in all them that | cum illa esse post mortem
haue heard or shall reade this | desiderares, quod profecto non
Sermon. This is all the gaine I | eris, si qualis es, talis eris._]
looke and pray for, that Gods[k] |
word, which I haue faithfully | [Note k: _Ier. 23. 22, 28. 1 Pet.
alledged (not without some | 4. 11. Tit. 2. 8. 2 Tim. 2.
Illustrations (I confesse) borrowed | 15. 1 Tim. 4. 13. & 6. 3._]
from the holy Fathers[l], whereof I |
need not to be ashamed) may be | [Note l: _--Ingenuo pudore qui
constantly practised by vs all. For | ornabat aetatem, quid cuius esset,
when all is done and said, assure | confiteri... Illud (aiebat)
your selfe (Deare Sir) it is only | Tertulliani, istud Cypriani, hoc
the Life of Grace, the Grace of the | Lactantij, illud Hilarij est. Sic
_Feare of the Lord_ can truly | Minutius Foelix, ita Victorinus, in
Honour you, or any vpon earth, | hunc modum est locutus Arnobius. S.
sweetly comfort you at your Death, | Ierom. ad Heliodor de Nepotian._]
and eternally Glorifie your Soule |
and Bodie in Heauen. Abandon then I |
beseech you in the name of |
Christ[m], all iniquitie, and all | [Note m: _2 Thess. 3. 6. 2 Tim.
workers of iniquitie, yea abominate | 2. 19. Prou. 4. 14. 1 Cor. 5.
the sweetest sin, to which your | 11. Ephes. 5. 11. Psalm. 26.
youthfull affections are most | 4, 5. & 119. 32, 36, 128. 2
endeared, else you will neuer be | Chron. 19. 2. & 20. 37._]
able to encline and enlarge them |
to the pursuit and practise of so |
excellent and Glorious a Grace as |
the _Feare of the Lord_; because |
this godly Feare and the impenitent |
Allowance of any lust, is as |
incompatible as Heauen and Hell: so |
that if you should hate to be |
diuorced from your Bosome-sin |
whatsoeuer it be (which God forbid) |
you could haue no true right and |
interest to the precious promises |
of this and of that other life[n]. | [Note n: _1 Tim. 4. 8._]
Thinke on this continually, and |
hold it your greatest Honour, the |
Noblest imployment of your Soule, |
as it is indeed, to keep your selfe |
(as a King[o] did before you.) from | [Note o: _Psal. 18. 23._]
your iniquitie. _Quod si tu (quod |
procul absit) nolueris, ego liber |
ero. Epistola, immo concio me haec |
mea, cum lecta fuerit, |
absoluet._[p] And so I rest, being | [Note p: _S. Ierom. ad Castorin.
mindfull of your Vertues, | Materteram._]
|
|
_Saint Mauganthe
19. August 1626._
_Yours in all Christian Deuotion,
and heartiest prayer to God for
you,_
HANNIBAL GAMON.
THE PRA | 1,368.155071 |
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This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler
[Picture: Book cover]
[Picture: And then came Azalea]
AZALEA
_The Story of a Girl_
_in the_
_Blue Ridge Mountains_
* * * * *
By
ELIA W. PEATTIE
* * * * *
_Illustrations by_
_Hazel Roberts_
* * * * *
[Picture: Publisher’s Logo]
* * * * *
The Reilly & Britton Co.
Chicago
* * * * *
Copyright, 1912
by
The Reilly & Britton Co.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE MCBIRNEYS 9
II NEW FRIENDS 28
III IN HIDING 47
IV NEW CLOTHES 69
V THE SHOALS 88
VI GROWING PAINS 108
VII THE SINGING 123
VIII THE KIDNAPPING 143
IX HAYSTACK THOMPSON 162
X THE ESCAPE 181
XI THE SUMMERS FAMILY 198
XII MA SAYS NO 215
XIII AT HOME AGAIN 236
XIV THE SACRIFICE 247
XV AZALEA CHOOSES 265
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
And then came Azalea _Frontispiece_
“She ran out to meet me,” he cried 92
“So that’s your story, missy.” 178
He stood there, straight and fierce 270
CHAPTER I
THE MCBIRNEYS
The guinea hens wanted everybody to get up. They said so right under the
bedroom window; and the turkey gobbler had the same wish and made it
known in his most important manner. Hours before, Mr. Rhode Island Red,
the rooster, had expressed his opinion on the subject, and from the first
pale hint of dawn till the sun swung up in the clear May sky, a great
company of tanagers, robins, martins, meadow larks and their friends had
suggested, each in his own way, that it was time to be awake.
But really, it didn’t need all of this clamor to get the McBirneys out of
bed. Since sunup, Thomas McBirney had been planting cotton on the red
clay terraces of his mountain farm; and Mary McBirney, his wife, had been
busied laying her hearth-fire, getting the breakfast and feeding the
crowing, cackling, gobbling creatures in the yard. And three times she
had thrust her head in at the door of the lean-to to say that if she were
a boy she’d get up and see what a pretty day it was.
James Stuart McBirney, otherwise Jim, thought his mother was right about
almost everything, but he did differ with her about getting up when a
fellow felt like a log and his eyes were as tight as ticks. He had heard
her say there was a time for everything, and it seemed to him that the
time to sleep was when a fellow was sleepy. Why should sensible people
send him to bed when he wasn’t sleepy and make him get up when he was?
Besides, something kept nagging away in the back of his mind. It was
something that he ought to remember, and couldn’t quite, on account of
being so sleepy. Or perhaps he didn’t want to remember it. At any rate,
it wouldn’t let him rest in comfort, but pecked away like a woodpecker at
a tree. So, in spite of himself, it all came back to him. Ma was out of
“fat pine” for kindling, and he must go hunting it.
Well, if he must—
“It don’t seem as you ought to be so long getting into such a few
clothes, Jimmy,” a soft voice called. “You’ll be falling into lazy
habits if you don’t set a watch on yourself, and you’ll never get shet of
them, long as you live.”
“Yessum,” said Jim.
“I can see your pa a-coming ’cross the fields now, and I reckon if you
don’t do some hustling he’ll catch you dawdling.”
“Yessum.”
“And, Jimmy!”
“Yessum?”
“I’ve been hearing that Aunt Nan Leiter’s got a making of that blue dye
like I’ve been wanting. I reckon after you’ve got the wood you’d better
walk over yon and get the bucket of it she promised to give me.”
“Yessum.”
“And, Jimmy, here’s your pa.”
“Yessum.”
“Ain’t you washed yet, son? Shame on you!”
There was a wild splashing of water on the back porch where the wash
basin stood, a gasping and panting, and then, with one last “Yessum,”
James Stuart McBirney stood in the door. His turned-up nose, his
freckles and his blue eyes all shone as if he had polished them, and his
curling, clay-colored hair had drawn itself up in tight ringlets about
his head.
He had been hoping that no one would pay any attention to him, and he had
his wish. Ma was setting breakfast on the table, steaming hot from the
hearth. Pa was standing outside the door shading his eyes with one hand.
| 1,368.257933 |
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Produced by Daniel Fromont
[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner (1819-1885), _The Old Helmet_ (1864),
Tauchnitz edition 1864, volume 2]
THE OLD HELMET.
BY
THE AUTHOR OF "WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
AUTHORIZED EDITION.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1864.
THE OLD HELMET.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE SPRING.
"Let no one ask me how it came to pass;
It seems that I am happy, that to me
A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
A purer sapphire melts into the sea."
Eleanor could not stay away from the Wednesday meetings at Mrs.
Powlis's house. In vain she had thought she would; she determined she
would; when the day came round she found herself drawn with a kind of
fascination towards the place. She went; and after that second time
never questioned at all about it. She went every week.
It was with no relief to her mental troubles however. She was sometimes
touched and moved; often. At other times she felt dull and hopeless.
Yet it soothed her to go; and she came away generally feeling
inspirited with hope by something she had heard, or feeling at least
the comfort that she had taken a step in the right direction. It did
not seem to bring her much more comfort. Eleanor did not see how she
could be a Christian while her heart was so hard and so full of its own
will. She found it perverse, even now, when she was wishing so much to
be different. What hope for her?
It was a great help, that during all this time Mrs. Caxton left her
unquestioned and uncounselled. She made no remarks about Eleanor's
going to class-meeting; she took it as a perfectly natural thing; never
asked her anything about it or about her liking it. A contrary course
would have greatly embarrassed Eleanor's action; as it was she felt
perfectly free; unwatched, and at ease.
The spring was flushing into mature beauty and waking up all the
flowers on the hills and in the dales, when Eleanor one afternoon came
out to her aunt in the garden. A notable change had come over the
garden by this time; its comparatively barren-looking beds were all
rejoicing in gay bloom and sending up a gush of sweetness to the house
with every stir of the air that way. From the house to the river,
terrace below terrace sloped down, brimfull already of blossoms and
fragrance. The roses were making great preparations for their coming
season of festival; the mats which had covered some tender plants were
long gone. Tulips and hyacinths and polyanthuses and primroses were in
a flush of spring glory now; violets breathed everywhere; the
snowy-flowered gooseberry and the red-flowered currant, and berberry
with its luxuriant yellow bloom, and the almond, and a magnificent
magnolia blossoming out in the arms of its evergreen sister, with many
another flower less known to Eleanor, made the garden terraces a little
wilderness of loveliness and sweetness. Near the house some very fine
auriculas in pots were displaying themselves. In the midst of all this
Mrs. Caxton was busy, with one or two people to help her and work under
direction. Planting and training and seed-sowing were going on; and the
mistress of the place moved about among her floral subjects a very
pleasant representation of a rural queen, her niece thought. Few queens
have a more queenly presence than Mrs. Caxton had; and with a trowel in
hand just as much as if it were a sceptre. And few queens indeed carry
such a calm mind under such a calm brow. Eleanor sighed and smiled.
"Among your auriculas, aunty, as usual!"
"Among everything," said Mrs. Caxton. "There is a great deal to do.
Don't you want to help, Eleanor? You may plant gladiolus bulbs--or you
may make cuttings--or you may sow seeds. I can find you work."
"Aunty, I am going down to the village."
"O it is Wednesday afternoon!" said Mrs. Caxton. And she came close up
to her niece and kissed her, while one hand was full of bulbs and the
other held a trowel. "Well go, my dear. Not at peace yet, Eleanor?"--
There was so tender a tone in these last words that Eleanor could not
reply. She dashed away without making any answer; and all along the way
to Plassy she was every now and then repeating them to herself. "Not at
peace yet, Eleanor?"
She was in a tender mood this afternoon; the questions and remarks
addressed to the other persons in the meeting frequently moved her to
tears, so that she sat with her hand to her brow to hide the watering
eyes. She did not dread the appeal to herself, for Mr. Rhys never asked
her any troublesome questions; never anything to which she had to make
a troublesome answer; though there might be perhaps matter for thought
in it. He had avoided anything, whether in his asking or replying, that
would give her any difficulty _there_, in the presence of
others,--whatever it might do in her own mind and in secret. To-day he
asked her, "Have you found peace yet?"
"No," said Eleanor.
"What is the state of your mind--if you could give it in one word?"
"Confusion."
"What is it confused about? Do you understand--clearly--the fact that
you are a sinner? without excuse?"
"Fully!"
"Do you understand--clearly--that Christ has suffered for sins, the
just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God?"
"Yes. I understand it."
"Is there any confusion in your mind as to the terms on which the Lord
will receive you?--forsaking your sins, and trusting in him to pardon
and save you?"
"No--I see that."
"Do you think there is any other condition besides those two?"
"No."
"Why do you not accept them?"
Eleanor raised her eyes with a feeling almost of injustice. "I
cannot!"--she said.
"That makes no difference. God never gives a command that cannot with
his help be fulfilled. There was a man once brought to Jesus--carried
by foul men; he was palsied, and lay on a litter or bed, unable to move
himself at all. To this man the Lord said, 'Arise, take up thy bed, and
walk.' Suppose he had looked up and said, 'I cannot?'"
Eleanor struggled with herself. Was this fair? Was it a parallel case?
She could not tell. She kept silence. Mr. Rhys went on, with tones
subdued to great gentleness.
"My friend, Jesus invites to no empty board--to no cold reception. On
his part all is ready; the unreadiness lies somewhere with you, or the
invitation would be accepted. In your case it is not the bodily frame
that is palsied; it is the heart; and the command comes to you, sweet
as the invitation,--'_Give it to me_.' If you are entirely willing, the
thing is done. If it be not done, it is because, somewhere, you are not
willing--or do not believe. If you can trust Jesus, as that poor man
did, you may rise up and stand upon your feet this very hour. 'Believe
ye that I am able to do this?' he asked of the blind man whom he cured."
There was silence for an instant. And again, as he turned away from
her, Mr. Rhys broke out with the song, that Eleanor thought would break
her heart in twain this time,--
"How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole;
There is but one physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
There's balm in Gilead--
To make the wounded whole.
There's power enough in Jesus
To save a sin-sick soul."
Eleanor had been the last one spoken to; the meeting soon was ended,
and she was on her way home. But so broken-spirited and humiliated that
she did not know what to do with herself. Could it be possible that she
was not _willing_--or that she wanted _faith_--or that there was some
secret corner of rebellion in her heart? It humbled her wonderfully to
think it. And yet she could not disprove the reasoning. God could not
be unfaithful; and if there were not somewhere on her part a failure to
meet the conditions, surely peace would have been made before now. And
she had thought herself all this while a subject for pity, not for
blame; nay, for blame indeed, but not in this regard. Her mouth was
stopped now. She rode home broken-hearted; would not see Mrs. Caxton at
supper; and spent the evening and much of the night in weeping and
self-searching. They were very downcast days that followed this day.
Mrs. Caxton looked at her anxiously sometimes; never interfered with
her.
Towards the end of the week there was preaching at Glanog, and the
family went as usual. Eleanor rode by herself, going and coming, and
held no communication with her aunt by the way. But late at night, some
time after Mrs. Caxton had gone to bed, a white-robed figure came into
her room and knelt down by the bedside.
"Is that you, Eleanor?"
"Aunt Caxton--it's all gone!"
"What?"
"My trouble. I came to tell you. It's all gone. I am so happy!"
"How is it, my dear child?"
"When Mr. Rhys was preaching to-night, it all came to me; I saw
everything clearly. I saw how Jesus loves sinners. I saw I had nothing
to do but to give myself to him, and he would do everything. I see how
sins are forgiven through his blood; and I trust in it, and I am sure
mine are; and I feel as if I had begun a new life, aunt Caxton!"
Eleanor's tears flowed like summer rain. Mrs. Caxton rose up and put
her arms round her.
"The Lord be praised!" she said. "I was waiting for this, Eleanor."
"Aunt Caxton, I had been trying and thinking to make myself good first.
I thought I was unworthy and unfit to be Christ's servant; but now I
see that I can be nothing but unworthy, and only he can make me fit for
anything; so I give up all, and I feel that he will do all for me. I am
so happy! I was so blind before!"
Mrs. Caxton said little; she only rejoiced with Eleanor so tenderly as
if she had been her own mother. Though that is speaking very coolly on
the present occasion. Mrs. Powle had never shewed her daughter so much
of that quality in her life, as Eleanor's aunt shewed now.
The breakfast next morning was unusually quiet. Happiness does not
always make people talkative.
"How do you do, my love?" said Mrs. Caxton when they were left alone.
"After being up half the night?"
"More fresh than I have felt for a year, aunt Caxton. Did you hear that
nightingale last night?"
"I heard him. I listened to him and thought of you."
"He sang--I cannot tell you what his song sounded like to me, aunt
Caxton. I could almost have fancied there was an angel out there."
"There were a great many rejoicing somewhere else. What glory to think
of it!" They were silent again till near the end of breakfast; then
Mrs. Caxton said,--"Eleanor, I shall be engaged the whole of this
morning. This afternoon, if you will, I will go with you into the
garden."
"This afternoon--is Wednesday, aunt Caxton."
"So it is. Well, before or after you go to the village, I want you to
dress some dishes of flowers for me--will you?"
"With great pleasure, ma'am. And I can get some hawthorn blossoms, I
know. I will do it before I go, ma'am."
Was it pleasant, that morning's work? Eleanor went out early to get her
sprays of May blossoms; and in the tender beauty of the day and season
was lured on and on, and tempted to gather other wild bits of
loveliness, till she at last found her hands full, and came home laden
with tokens of where she had been. "O'er the muir, amang the heather,"
Eleanor's walk had gone; and her basket was gay with gorse and broom
just opening; but from grassy banks on her way she had brought the
bright blue speedwell; and clematis and bryony from the hedges, and
from under them wild hyacinth and white campion and crane's-bill and
primroses; and a meadow she had passed over gave her one or two pretty
kinds of orchis, with daisies and cowslips, and grasses of various
kinds. Eleanor was dressing these in flower baskets and dishes, in the
open gallery that overlooked the meadows, when Mrs. Caxton passing
through on her own business stopped a moment to look at her.
"All those from your walk, my dear! Do you not mean to apply to the
garden?"
"Aunty, I could have got a great many more, if I could have gone into
the woods--but my walk did not lie that way. Yes, ma'am, I am going
into the garden presently, when I have ordered these dishes well. Where
are they to go, aunt Caxton?"
"Some in one place and some in another. You may leave them here,
Eleanor, when they are done, and I will take care of them. Shall I have
the garden flowers cut for you?"
"O no, ma'am, if you please!"
Mrs. Caxton stood a moment | 1,368.258934 |
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Produced by Alan Winterrowd from a text scanned and made
available By Google Books
A Winter Amid the Ice and Other Thrilling Stories
By Jules Verne
Published by:
The World Publishing House
New Yowk, 1877
Contents
DOCTOR OX'S EXPERIMENT
CHAPTER I.
How it is useless to seek, even on the best maps, for the small
town of Quiquendone
CHAPTER II.
In which the Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the Counsellor
Niklausse consult about the affairs of the town
CHAPTER III.
In which the Commissary Passauf enters as noisily as unexpectedly
CHAPTER IV.
In which Doctor Ox reveals himself as a physi | 1,368.360381 |
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Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: The Empress of Russia and Queen Alexandra]
RUSSIAN MEMORIES
BY
MADAME OLGA NOVIKOFF "O.K."
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY STEPHEN GRAHAM
AND FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED 12 ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET LONDON S.W. MCMXVII
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND
{1}
INTRODUCTION
BY STEPHEN GRAHAM
It is perhaps a little superfluous for one of my years to write an
introduction for one so well known and so much esteemed and admired as
Madame Novikoff. And yet it may seem just, if it does not seem vain,
that a full-hearted tribute should come to her from this generation
which profits by the result of her life and her work--the great new
friendship between England and Russia.
She is one of the most interesting women in European diplomatic
circles. She is a picturesque personality, but more than that she is
one who has really done a great deal in her life. You cannot say of
her, as of so many brilliant women, "She was born, she was admired, she
passed!" Destiny used her to accomplish great ends.
For many in our society life, she stood for Russia, was Russia. For
the poor people of England Russia was represented by the filth of the
Ghetto and the crimes of the so-called "political" refugees; for the
middle classes who read Seton Merriman, Russia was a fantastic country
of revolutionaries and bloodthirsty police; but fortunately the ruling
and upper classes always have had some better vision, they have had the
means of travel, they have seen real representative Russians in their
midst. {2} "They are barbarians, these Russians!" says someone to his
friend. But the friend turns a deaf ear. "I happen to know one of
them," says he.
A beautiful and clever woman always charms, whatever her nationality
may be, and it is possible for her to make conquests that predicate
nothing of the nation to which she belongs. That is true, and therein
lay the true grace and genius of Madame Novikoff. She was not merely a
clever and charming woman, she was Russia herself. Russia lent her
charm. Thus her friends were drawn from serious and vital England.
Gladstone learned from her what Russia was. The great Liberal, the man
who, whatever his virtues, and despite his high religious fervour, yet
committed Liberalism to anti-clericalism and secularism, learned from
her to pronounce the phrase, "Holy Russia." He esteemed her. With his
whole spiritual nature he exalted her. She was his Beatrice, and to
her more than to anyone in his life he brought flowers. Morley has
somehow omitted this in his biography of Gladstone. Like so many
intellectual Radicals he is afraid of idealism. But in truth the key
to the more beautiful side of Gladstone's character might have been
found in his relationship to Madame Novikoff. And possibly that
friendship laid the real foundation of the understanding between the
two nations.
Incidentally let me remark the growing friendliness towards Russia
which is noticeable in the work of Carlyle at that time. A tendency
towards friendship came thus into the air far back in the Victorian era.
{3}
Another most intimate friendship was that of Kinglake and Madame
Novikoff, where again was real appreciation of a fine woman. Anthony
Froude worshipped at the same shrine, and W. T. Stead with many another
in whose heart and hand was the making of modern England.
A marvellously generous and unselfish nature, incapacity to be dull or
feel dull or think that life is dull--a delicious sense of the
humorous, an ingenious mind, a courtliness, and with all this something
of the goddess. She had a presence into which people came. And then
she had a visible Russian soul. There was in her features that
unfamiliar gleam which we are all pursuing now, through opera,
literature and art--the Russian genius.
Madame Novikoff was useful to Russia, it has been reproachfully said.
Yes, she was useful in promoting peace between the two Empires, she was
worth an army in the field to Russia. Yes, and now it may be said she
has been worth an army in the field to us.
When Stead went down on the _Titanic_ one of the last of the great men
who worshipped at her shrine had died. Be it remarked how great was
Stead's faith in Russia, and especially in the Russia of the Tsar and
the Church. And it is well to remember that Madame Novikoff belongs to
orthodox Russia and has never had any sympathy whatever with
revolutionary Russia. This has obtained for her not a few enemies.
There are many Russians with strong political views, estimable but
misguided men, who have issued in the past such harmful rubbish as
_Darkest Russia_, journals and pamphlets wherein {4} systematically
everything to the discredit of the Tsar and his Government, every ugly
scandal or enigmatical happening in Russian contemporary life was
written up and then sent post free to our clergy, etc. To them Madame
Novikoff is naturally distasteful. But as English people we ask, who
has helped us to understand "Brightest Russia"--the Russia in arms
to-day? And the praise and the thanks are to her.
STEPHEN GRAHAM.
Moscow,
27_th August_, 1916.
{5}
EDITOR'S PREFACE
The late W. T. Stead in saying to Madame Novikoff, "When you die, what
an obituary I will write of you," was paying her a great compliment;
just as was Disraeli, although unconsciously, in referring to her as
"the M.P. for Russia in England." With that consummate tact which
never fails her, Madame Novikoff has evaded the compliment and
justified the sarcasm. Disraeli might with justice have added that she
was also "M.P. for England in Russia"; for if she has appeared
pro-Russian in England, she has many times been reproached in Russia as
pro-English.
Of few women have such contradictory things been said and written,
things that clearly show the gradual change in the political barometer;
but her most severe critics indirectly paid tribute to her remarkable
personality by fearing the influence she possessed. In the dark days
when Great Britain and Russia were thinking of each other only as
potential antagonists, she was regarded in this country as a Russian
agent, whose every action was a subject for suspicious speculation, a
national danger, a syren whose object it was to entice British {6}
politicians from their allegiance. Wherever she went it was, according
to public opinion, with some fell purpose in view. If she came to
London for the simple purpose of improving her English, it meant to a
certain section of the Press Russian "diplomatic activity." The Tsar
was told by an English journalist that he ought to "be very proud of
her," as she succeeded where "Russian papers, Ambassadors and Envoys
failed"; another said that she was "worth an army of 100,000 men to her
country"; a third that she was a "stormy petrel." She was, in fact,
everything from a Russian agent to a national danger, everything in
short but the one thing she professed to be, a Russian woman anxious
for her country's peace and progress.
In Serbia there is a little village whose name commemorates the death
of a Russian hero, Nicolas Kiréef, Madame Novikoff's brother. In his
death lay the seed of the Anglo-Russian Alliance. Distraught with
grief, Madame Novikoff blamed Great Britain for her loss. She argued
that, had this country refused to countenance the unspeakableness of
the Turk in 1876, there would have been no atrocities, no Russian
Volunteers, and no war. From that date she determined to do everything
that lay in her power to bring about a better understanding between
Great Britain and Russia. For years she has never relaxed her efforts,
and she has lived to see what is perhaps the greatest monument ever
erected by a sister to a brother's memory--the Anglo-Russian Alliance.
{7}
Nothing discouraged her, and at times, when war seemed inevitable, she
redoubled her efforts. In all her work, she had chiefly to depend on
her own ardour and sincerity. It was this sincerity, and a deep
conviction as to the rightness of her object, that caused Gladstone to
become her fearless ally. Politically he compromised himself by his
frank support of her pleadings for peace and understanding.
For many years feeling ran too high in this country for a reasoned
consideration of Madame Novikoff's appeals. "Peace with honour" talk
became a meaningless catch phrase, otherwise it would have been seen
that it was "peace with honour" that she advocated, and has never
ceased to advocate, peace with honour, not to one, but to two great
peoples.
Slowly the eyes of empire shifted from one continent to another, and
gradually Madame Novikoff found her voice commanding more and more
attention, until at last the Anglo-Russian Agreement paved the way for
the present Alliance.
Her success is largely due to the methods she adopted. She gave and
received hard knocks, and she never fell back upon her sex as an
argument or a defence. She was fighting with men, and she fought with
men's weapons, and this gained for her respect as an honourable and
worthy antagonist. Even at the time when feeling was most strongly
against her work, there appeared in the newspapers many spontaneous
tributes to her ability and personality. {8} The very suspicion with
which she was regarded was in itself a tribute.
Later when Russia and Great Britain had drawn closer together, there
appeared in the Press some of the most remarkable tributes ever paid to
a woman, from which in justice to her and the Press I venture to quote
a few of the many that appeared.
"If we were writing at a date which we hope is a good many years
distant of the career of Madame Olga Novikoff, we should begin by
saying that she was one of the most remarkable women of her
time."--_Daily Graphic_.
"Whatever the reader's political predilections may be, he is unlikely
to dispute the claim of Madame Novikoff to rank as one of the most
remarkable women of her generation."--_Daily Telegraph_.
"No one will deny the right of Madame Novikoff to a record in history:
... For nearly ten years her influence was probably greater than any
other woman's upon the course of national politics."--_Daily News_.
Madame Novikoff, "who for so many years held a social and political
position in London which few women, and no ambassador, have ever
equalled."--_Observer_.
"From beginning to end Madame Novikoff's record is clear and
honourable. There is not the slightest evidence of any intrigue on her
part, of any effort to use the statesman she influenced for underhand
purposes, or to work for or against any {9} particular individual in
her own country."--_Westminster Gazette_.
"It is seldom that anyone sees such a fruition of his labours as does
this marvellous lady, who has worked all her life for one thing and
almost one thing only--an Anglo-Russian understanding."--_Daily Mail_.
And now in the autumn of her life (it is impossible to associate the
word winter with so vital a personality) Madame Novikoff has seen her
years of work crowned with success. To-day she is as keen in regard to
public affairs, especially where her beloved Russia is concerned, as
she was in the days when her life was one continuous fight with the
war-spirit. In the preparation of these Memories I have seen something
of her application, her industry and her personality. In the past I
have often asked myself what was the secret of Madame Novikoff's
remarkable success. But now I know. Time after time when we have seen
things from a different angle, I have found myself accepting her point
of view before I was even conscious of weakening.
Of all the compliments ever paid to Madame Novikoff, the one that
probably pleases her most is that which recently appeared in a London
daily written by a famous writer upon Russian life, who described her
as "a true Russian."
This is not an autobiography; for Madame Novikoff has always refused to
undertake such a responsibility. In the first place she thinks it {10}
would be too long, and in the second too personal. "I have been talked
about quite enough," she will say, "without starting to talk about
myself." In 1909 there appeared _The M.P. for Russia_, edited by the
late W. T. Stead, which told much of her association with her
distinguished friends, Gladstone, Kinglake, Villiers, Clarendon,
Carlyle, Tyndall, Froude and others. "These have been taken," she
says, "and I am left." But she has continued her work, and many of her
friends have told her that at this time, above all others, she should
tell personally something of her Russian memories. As she phrases it,
"For forty years I have been wandering in the Wilderness, and now I
have been permitted the happiness of entering the Promised Land. At
last the gates have been opened. We are now brothers-in-arms."
THE EDITOR.
{11}
CONTENTS
EDITOR'S PREFACE
CHAPTER I
THE RUSSIAN SPIRIT
July 1914--Enthusiasm at Moscow--My Ambition Realised--England and
Russia Allies--A War of Right--Wounded Heroes--Russia's Faith in
Victory--Our Emperor's Call--England's Greatness--I am Introduced to
Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli--"The M.P. for Russia in England"--Mr.
Gladstone's Championship--An Unpopular Cause
CHAPTER II
THE AWAKENING OF RUSSIA
A New Era--My Brother Nicholas--Hadji Ghiray: Hero--Terrible News--A
Heroic Advance--My Brother's Death--Aksakoff's Famous Speech--Russia
Aflame--A Nation's Sacrifice--My Heart-broken Letters--Mr. Gladstone's
Response--Mutual Suspicion--My Visits to England
CHAPTER III
MR. GLADSTONE AND I STRIVE FOR PEACE
The Real England--The St. James's Hall Meeting--Remarkable
Enthusiasm--Mr. Gladstone's Speech--He Escorts Me Home--Newspaper
Comment--Lord Salisbury and General Ignatieff--Mutual Regard--The Turks
Displeased--An Embarrassing Tribute--The End of the Constantinople
Conference--Mr. Gladstone Compromised--War Declared--"What Will England
Do?"--Bismarck's Policy--Prince Gortschakoff's Opinion
CHAPTER IV
MR. GLADSTONE
His Last Utterance.--His Fearlessness---His Opinion of _Russia and
England_--A Christian Revolution--Cardinal Manning's Tribute--Gladstone
and the Old Catholics--The Question of Immortality--Mr. Gladstone's
Remarkable Letter--A Delightful Listener--His Power of
Concentration--Hayward and Gladstone--Their Discussion--Miss Helen
Gladstone--We Talk Gladstone--The Old Lady's Delight--I Miss my Train
{12}
CHAPTER V
SOME SOCIAL MEMORIES
My Thursdays in Russia--Khalil Pasha's Death--Lord Napier and the
Lady-in-Waiting--Madame Volnys--My Parents-in-law's _ménage_--An
Exceptional Type--Prince Vladimir Dolgorouki's Embarrassment--The Grand
Duchess Helen--A Brilliant Woman--The Emperor's Enjoyment--The
Campbell-Bannermans--A Royal Diplomatist--Mark Twain on Cour | 1,368.458192 |
2023-11-16 18:39:52.4409060 | 1,139 | 16 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tragic Comedians, v1,
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Title: The Tragic Comedians, v1
Author: George Meredith
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
Release Date: September, 2003 [Etext #4461]
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[This file was first posted on February 12, 2002]
The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tragic Comedians, v1, by Meredith
********This file should be named 4461.txt or 4461.zip********
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THE TRAGIC COMEDIANS
A STUDY IN A WELL-KNOWN STORY
By George Meredith
1892
BOOK 1.
The word 'fantastical' is accentuated in our tongue to so scornful an
utterance that the constant good service it does would make it seem an
appointed instrument for reviewers of books of imaginative matter
distasteful to those expository pens. Upon examination, claimants to the
epithet will be found outside of books and of poets, in many quarters,
Nature being one of the prominent, if not the foremost. Wherever she can
get to drink her fill of sunlight she pushes forth fantastically. As for
that wandering ship of the drunken pilot, the mutinous crew and the angry
captain, called Human Nature, 'fantastical' fits it no less completely
than a continental baby's skull-cap the stormy infant.
Our sympathies, one may fancy, will be broader, our critical acumen
shrewder, if we at once accept the thing as a part of us and worthy of
study.
The pair of tragic comedians of whom there will be question pass under
this word as under their banner and motto. Their acts are incredible:
they drank sunlight and drove their bark in a manner to eclipse
historical couples upon our planet. Yet they do belong to history,
they breathed the stouter air than fiction's, the last chapter of them
is written in red blood, and the man pouring out that last chapter, was
of a mighty nature not unheroical, a man of the active grappling modern
brain which wrestles with facts, to keep the world alive, and can create
them, to set it spinning.
A Faust-like legend might spring from him: he had a devil. He was the
leader of a host, the hope of a party, venerated by his followers, well
hated by his enemies, respected by the intellectual chiefs of his time,
in the pride of his manhood and his labours when he fell. And why this
man should have come to his end through love, and the woman who loved him
have laid her hand in the hand of the slayer, is the problem we have to
study, nothing inventing, in the spirit and flesh of both. To ask if it
was love is useless. Love may be celestial fire before it enters into
the systems of mortals. It will then take the character of its place of
abode, and we have to look not so much for the pure thing as for the
passion. Did it move them, hurry them, animating the giants and gnomes | 1,368.460946 |
2023-11-16 18:39:52.5379840 | 1,235 | 7 |
Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by
Google Books (Oxford University)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
http://books.google.com/books?id=GyAGAAAAQAAJ
(Oxford University)
THE LAST CALL.
THE LAST CALL.
A Romance.
BY
RICHARD DOWLING,
AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF KILLARD," "THE WEIRD SISTERS,"
"SWEET INISFAIL," ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES_.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE ST., STRAND.
1884.
[_All rights reserved_.]
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
THE LAST CALL.
* * * * *
Part I.
THE LAST CALL.
CHAPTER I.
The sun was low behind a bank of leaden cloud which stood like a wall
upon the western horizon. In front of a horse-shoe cove lay a placid
bay, and to the westward, but invisible from the cove, the plains of
the Atlantic.
It was low water, and summer. The air of the cove was soft with
exhalations from the weed-clad rocks stretching in green and brown
furrows from the ridge of blue shingle in the cove to the violet
levels of the sea.
On the ridge of shingle lay a young man, whose eyes rested on the sea.
He was of the middle height and figure. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight
seemed to be his age. He had a neat, compact forehead, dark gray eyes,
ruddy, full cheeks, a prominent nose, full lips, and a square chin.
The face looked honest, good-humoured, manly. The moustaches were
brown; the brown hair curled under the hat. The young man wore a gray
tweed suit and a straw hat.
He lay resting on his elbow. In the line of his sight far out in the
bay a small dot moved almost imperceptibly. The lounger knew this dot
was a boat: distance prevented his seeing it contained a man and a
woman.
Dominique Lavirotte, the man in the boat, was of the middle height and
figure, twenty-four years of age, looking like a Greek, but French by
descent and birth. The eyes and skin were dark, the beard and
moustaches black. The men of Rathclare, a town ten miles off, declared
he was the handsomest man they had ever seen, and yet felt their
candour ill-requited when their sweethearts and wives concurred.
With Dominique Lavirotte in the boat was Ellen Creagh. She was not a
native of Rathclare, but of Glengowra, the small seaside and fishing
town situate on Glengowra Bay, over which the boat was now lazily
gliding in the cool blue light of the afternoon.
Ellen Creagh was tall and slender, above the average height of women,
and very fair. She had light golden-brown hair, bright lustrous blue
eyes, and lips of delicate red. The upper lip was short. Even in
repose her face always suggested a smile. One of the great charms of
the head was the fluent ease with which it moved. The greatest charm
of the face was the sweet susceptibility it had to smile. It seemed,
when unmoved, to wait in placid faith, the advent of pleasant things.
During its moments of quiet there was no suggestion of doubt or
anxiety in it. To it the world was fair and pleasant--and the face was
pleasant and wonderfully fair. Pleasant people are less degraded by
affectation than solemn people. Your solemn man is generally a
swindler of some kind, and nearly always selfish and insincere. Ellen
Creagh looked the embodiment of good-humoured candour, and the ideal
of health and beauty. She was as blithe and wholesome as the end of
May; she was a northern Hebe, a goddess of youth and joy.
The name of the young man lying on the shingles was Eugene O'Donnell.
He lived in the important seaport of Rathclare, where his father was
the richest and most respected merchant and shipowner. There had James
O'Donnell been established in business for many years, and they now
said he was not worth less than a quarter of a million sterling. Mrs.
O'Donnell was a hale, brisk, bright-minded woman of fifty-seven, being
three years her husband's junior. The pair had but one child, Eugene,
and to him in due time all the old man's money was to go. The
O'Donnells were wealthy and popular. The father had a slow, methodical
way, which did not win upon strangers, but among those who knew him no
one was more highly respected. Without any trace of extravagance,
James O'Donnell was liberal with his money. He was a good husband, a
good father, and a good employer.
He had only one source of permanent uneasiness--his son Eugene was not
married, and showed no inclination towards marriage. The old man held
that every young man who could support a wife should take one. He
himself had married young, had prospered amazingly, and never for a
moment regretted his marriage. He was prepared to give his son a share
in his business, and a thousand a year out of the interest of his
savings, if the young man would only settle. But although Eugene
O'Donnell was as good-h | 1,368.558024 |
2023-11-16 18:39:52.6409780 | 1,235 | 9 |
E-text prepared by Woodie4, Curtis Weyant, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital
material generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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See 28861-h.htm or 28861-h.zip:
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Dave Porter Series
DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH
Or
The Pluck of an American Schoolboy
by
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," "Dave Porter in the South Seas,"
"Dave Porter's Return to School," "Old Glory Series," "Pan American
Series," "Defending His Flag," etc.
Illustrated By Charles Nuttall
[Illustration: In a twinkling the turnout was upset.--_Page 206._]
[Illustration: Publishers mark]
Boston
Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.
Published, March, 1908
Copyright, 1908, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.
All rights reserved
DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH
Norwood Press
BERWICK & SMITH CO.
Norwood, Mass.
U. S. A.
PREFACE
"Dave Porter in the Far North" is a complete story in itself, but forms
the fourth volume in a line issued under the general title of "Dave
Porter Series."
In the first volume, entitled "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," I introduced a
typical American lad, full of life and vigor, and related the
particulars of his doings at an American boarding school of to-day--a
place which is a little world in itself. At this school Dave made both
friends and enemies, proved that he was a natural leader, and was
admired accordingly.
The great cloud over Dave's life was the question of his parentage. His
enemies called him "that poorhouse nobody," which hurt him deeply. He
made a discovery, and in the second volume of the series, entitled "Dave
Porter in the South Seas," we followed him on a most unusual voyage, at
the end of which he found an uncle, and learned something of his father
and sister, who were at that time traveling in Europe.
Dave was anxious to meet his own family, but could not find out just
where they were. While waiting for word from them, he went back to Oak
Hall, and in the third volume of the series, called "Dave Porter's
Return to School," we learned how he became innocently involved in a
mysterious series of robberies, helped to win two great games of
football, and brought the bully of the academy to a realization of his
better self.
As time went by Dave longed more than ever to meet his father and his
sister, and how he went in search of them I leave the pages which follow
to relate. As before, Dave is bright, manly, and honest to the core, and
in those qualities I trust my young readers will take him as their model
throughout life.
Once more I thank the thousands who have taken an interest in what I
have written for them. May the present story help them to despise those
things which are mean and hold fast to those things which are good.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
January 10, 1908.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ON THE TRAIN 1
II. A ROW IN A RESTAURANT 12
III. OFF THE TRACK 22
IV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE BARN 32
V. BACK TO OAK HALL 42
VI. GUS PLUM'S CONFESSION 51
VII. HOW JOB HASKERS WENT SLEIGH-RIDING 59
VIII. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER 69
IX. DAVE TALKS TO THE POINT 78
X. AN ADVENTURE ON ROBBER ISLAND 87
XI. A HUNT FOR AN ICE-BOAT 97
XII. THE MEETING OF THE GEE EYES 107
XIII. AN INTERRUPTED INITIATION 116
XIV. GOOD-BYE TO OAK HALL 125
XV. DAVE AND ROGER IN LONDON 134
XVI. SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION 143
XVII. ON THE NORTH SEA 152
XVIII. IN NORWAY AT LAST 162
XIX. OFF TO THE NORTHWARD 171
XX. AN ENCOUNTER WITH WOLVES 181
XXI. CAUGHT IN A WINDSTORM 190
XXII. SNOWBOUND IN THE MOUNTAINS 200
XXIII. LEFT IN THE DARK 210
XXIV. THE BURGOMASTER OF MASOLGA 219
XXV. TO THE NORTHWARD ONCE MORE 228
XXVI. DAYS OF WAITING 237
XXVII. DAVE STRIKES OUT ALONE 246
XXVIII. A | 1,368.661018 |
2023-11-16 18:39:53.0438230 | 155 | 13 |
Produced by David Garcia, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Kentuckiana Digital Library)
THE HOUSE OF
FULFILMENT
By GEORGE MADDEN MARTIN
AUTHOR OF EMMY LOU
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
MCMIV
_Copyright, 1904, by_
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
Published, September, 1904
Second Impression
Copyright, 1904, by The S. S. McClure | 1,369.063863 |
2023-11-16 18:39:53.1381550 | 7,411 | 58 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, John Campbell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources. Misspellings in
the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
PRINCIPLES OF
PUBLIC HEALTH
A SIMPLE TEXT BOOK ON HYGIENE
PRESENTING THE PRINCIPLES FUNDAMENTAL
TO THE CONSERVATION OF
INDIVIDUAL AND COMMUNITY HEALTH
BY THOS. D. TUTTLE, B.S., M.D.
SECRETARY AND EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF
THE STATE BOARD OF HEALTH OF MONTANA
[Illustration: (publisher's colophon)]
YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK
WORLD BOOK COMPANY
1910
CONSERVATION OF HEALTH
"Our national health is physically our greatest asset. To prevent
any possible deterioration of the American stock should be a
national ambition."--THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
_The conservation of individual and national health is the keynote
of these books_
PRINCIPLES OF PUBLIC HEALTH
By THOS. D. TUTTLE, M.D., Secretary and Executive Officer of the
State Board of Health of Montana. Illustrated. Cloth. vii + 186
pages. List price 50 cents, mailing price 60 cents.
PRIMER OF HYGIENE
By JOHN W. RITCHIE, of the College of William and Mary in
Virginia, and JOSEPH S. CALDWELL, of the George Peabody College
for Teachers, Nashville, Tennessee. Illustrated. Cloth. vi + 184
pages. List price 40 cents, mailing price 48 cents.
PRIMER OF SANITATION
By JOHN W. RITCHIE. Illustrated. Cloth. vi + 200 pages. List
price 50 cents, mailing price 60 cents.
HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY
By JOHN W. RITCHIE. Illustrated in black and colors. Cloth. vi +
362 pages. List price 80 cents, mailing price 96 cents.
WORLD BOOK COMPANY
CASPAR W. HODGSON, _Manager_
YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1910, by World Book Company. All rights reserved_
INTRODUCTION
The earliest history of remote ages describes methods employed in
combating disease, and down through all the centuries the struggle
against infection has been going on. The science of health as
applied in recent years reveals wonderful progress in the avoidance
of disease, and in the control of the violent epidemics by which
in the past nations were almost exterminated. Modern methods of
hygiene and sanitation as applied to public health have robbed
smallpox and diphtheria of their death-dealing power; cholera and
yellow fever have been forced to retreat before the victorious
hosts of applied medical science; tuberculosis, the greatest foe
of human life, is slowly but surely receding before the determined
efforts of modern preventive medicine.
By nature man is endowed with resistive power sufficient to ward
off most forms of disease, provided he keeps his health at a normal
standard by right living. If, however, he allows his health to
become impaired by reason of overwork, bad habits, wilful exposure
to contagion or unhealthful surroundings, he readily falls a prey
to disease.
The author of _Principles of Public Health_ has here set forth the
general rules of life by the observance of which every adult and
every child not only can do much to preserve his own health but
also can prove himself a prominent factor in raising the standard
of public health. A campaign of education is demanded to arrest the
enormous loss of life which is carrying so many to untimely graves,
and the instruction given in this volume will be of inestimable
value in teaching people how to avoid avoidable disease.
The author has not attempted to deal with all the diseases that
may be classed as preventable; as the work is intended for use in
the public schools, only such diseases are mentioned as it seems
fitting to present to school children. To teach our children a
proper respect for their own health and for the community welfare
is to fit them for the best citizenship.
E. A. PIERCE, M. D.
PORTLAND, OREGON
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author wishes to express his sincere appreciation of the
valuable assistance rendered in the preparation of this work
by Dr. S. T. Armstrong, of New York City; Dr. H. Wheeler Bond,
Commissioner of Health, St. Louis, Missouri; Dr. H. M. Bracken,
Secretary and Executive Officer of the State Board of Health of
Minnesota; J. S. Caldwell, Professor of Biology, George Peabody
College for Teachers, Nashville, Tennessee; R. J. Condon,
Superintendent of Schools, Providence, Rhode Island; Mrs. Nona B.
Eddy, of the Public Schools of Helena, Montana; Dr. F. M. McMurray,
of Teachers College, Columbia University, New York City; Miss
Jessie B. Montgomery, Supervising Critic in Training School, State
Normal School, Terre Haute, Indiana; Dr. E. A. Pierce, Secretary
and Executive Officer of the State Board of Health of Oregon.
CONTENTS
PART I--THE FIGHT FOR HEALTH
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CONSTANT DANGER OF ILLNESS 1
II. THE NECESSITY OF CARING FOR THE BODY 4
III. HOW CLOTHING AFFECTS HEALTH 9
IV. THE USES OF FOOD 14
V. CARE OF FOOD--MEATS 18
VI. CARE OF FOOD--MILK 22
VII. DECOMPOSITION OF FOOD 30
VIII. HARM DONE BY IMPROPER COOKING 34
IX. HOW NEATNESS, CHEERFULNESS, AND GOOD MANNERS
PROMOTE HEALTH 37
X. DANGERS FROM POOR TEETH 41
XI. NECESSITY FOR PURE AIR AND HOW TO SECURE IT 45
XII. REST ESSENTIAL TO HEALTH 51
XIII. CARE OF THE EYE AND EAR 56
XIV. CARE OF THE SKIN 60
XV. COMMON POISONS TO BE AVOIDED 64
PART II--THE ENEMIES OF HEALTH
XVI. DISEASE GERMS 73
XVII. ENCOURAGEMENT OF DISEASE BY UNCLEANLY
HABITS 75
XVIII. FLIES AS CARRIERS OF DISEASE 79
XIX. HOW DISEASE GERMS GET INTO WATER 85
XX. TRANSMISSION OF DISEASE THROUGH THE AIR 89
XXI. INSECTS AS CARRIERS OF DISEASE 92
XXII. HOW TO KEEP GERMS OUT OF WOUNDS 95
XXIII. TRANSMISSION OF DIPHTHERIA 100
XXIV. THE CURE OF DIPHTHERIA 108
XXV. HOW TYPHOID FEVER GERMS ARE CARRIED 113
XXVI. HOOKWORM DISEASE AND AMOEBIC DYSENTERY 120
XXVII. HOW SCARLET FEVER IS CARRIED 123
XXVIII. MEASLES AND WHOOPING COUGH DANGEROUS
DISEASES 128
XXIX. HOW SMALLPOX IS PREVENTED 131
XXX. WHY VACCINATION SOMETIMES SEEMS A FAILURE 138
XXXI. CONSUMPTION, THE GREAT WHITE PLAGUE 142
XXXII. HOW CONSUMPTION IS SPREAD AND HOW PREVENTED 150
XXXIII. HOW CONSUMPTION IS CURED 157
APPENDIX--SUMMARY OF ANATOMY 163
SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER 182
INDEX 183
PART I
THE FIGHT FOR HEALTH
CHAPTER I
CONSTANT DANGER OF ILLNESS
Every boy and girl confidently expects to grow into a strong and
healthy man or woman. How often we hear a child say, "When I am a
man," or "When I am a woman;" but I have never heard a boy or a
girl say, "If I live to be a man or woman." When you think of what
you will do when you are grown into men or women, it never occurs
to you that you may be weak and sickly and therefore not able to
do the very things that you would most like to do. This suggests
that sickness is not natural, else the thought that you may perhaps
become sick would enter your mind. As a matter of fact, most
sickness is not natural.
[Sidenote: The fight for life]
There is a constant struggle going on in the world. You see a fight
about you every day among the animals. You see the spider catch the
fly, the snake catch the frog, the bird catch the insect, and the
big fish catch the minnow; and you have heard of wars where men
kill one another.
The greatest enemies that men have to fight, however, are not
other men, or wild animals, but foes that kill more men, women and
children every year than were ever killed in the same length of
time by war. These foes are small, very small, but you must not
think that because things are small they are not dangerous. We
call these foes _disease germs_.
[Illustration: FIG. 1. Looking at cells through a microscope.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2. Some skin cells as seen through a
microscope.]
[Sidenote: The nature of a germ]
The germ is a very, very small body; it is the smallest living
body that we know. Later we shall learn that our bodies are made
up of cells, and that these cells are extremely small--so small
that it takes a very powerful microscope to see one of them. The
germ is still smaller than the cells in our bodies, and it is
made of a single cell. There are a great many kinds of germs in
the world. Fortunately, most of them are not harmful. Some germs
cause disease, but there are other germs that not only are not
harmful, but are actually helpful to men. Among the helpful germs
are those that enrich the ground, and these should be protected;
but all germs that cause disease should be destroyed as rapidly
as possible. These germs are fighting all the time against our
health. They are not armed with guns and cannon, neither do they
build forts from which to fight; but they get inside our bodies and
attack us there.
[Sidenote: How to fight germs]
There are three principal ways by which we fight disease germs:
_first_, by keeping our bodies so well and strong that germs
cannot live in them; _second_, by keeping germs out of our bodies;
_third_, by preventing germs from accumulating in the world--that
is, by killing as many of them as possible.
If it is possible to keep so well and strong that disease germs
cannot live in our bodies, you will naturally infer that there are
other causes of sickness besides disease germs. That is true, for
there are a great many things beside germs that cause our bodies to
get into such a condition that disease germs can enter and grow and
make us ill. We sometimes call this a "run-down" condition. Before
we begin, then, to study the germs that cause disease, we must
learn how to keep our bodies strong and ready to fight these germs.
=Questions.= 1. What evidence have we that sickness is not
natural? 2. Name some of the fights going on in the animal world.
3. What can you say of the amount of illness caused by germs? 4.
Tell what you have learned about germs. 5. Name three ways of
fighting germs.
=Remember.= 1. Most sickness comes from failure to observe
Nature's laws. 2. We must keep up a constant fight against germs
that cause sickness. 3. We fight germs by killing as many of them
as we can, and by keeping our bodies so strong that if a disease
germ enters it cannot grow.
CHAPTER II
THE NECESSITY OF CARING FOR THE BODY
[Illustration: FIG. 3. The organs of the body.]
[Sidenote: How the body is like an automobile]
These bodies of ours are built somewhat like automobiles. An
automobile is made up of a framework, wheels, body, gasoline tank,
engine, and steering-gear. The human body has much the same form of
construction. We have a frame, which is made of the bones of the
body. We have arms and legs, which correspond to the wheels of the
automobile. We have many little pockets in our bodies in which fat
is stored, and these little pockets answer to the gasoline tank
of the automobile. We have an engine which, like the automobile
engine, is made up of many parts; and we have a head or brain, that
plays the same part as the steering-gear of the automobile.
The automobile has a tank in which is carried the gasoline
necessary to develop power for the machine. If the gasoline gives
out, the engine will not run, and before the owner starts on a
trip, he is always careful to see that the tank is well filled.
In the same way, if we do not provide new fat for the pockets in
our bodies in which the fat is stored, our supply will soon give
out and our bodies will refuse to work, just as the engine of the
automobile will refuse to work when the gasoline is used up.
[Sidenote: What cells are like]
The automobile is made of iron and wood and rubber, and each bit
of iron and wood and rubber is made up of tiny particles. The body
is made of bones and muscles, covered with skin, and all these are
made up of very fine particles that we call cells. Every part of
the body is made of these fine cells. The cells are so small that
they can be seen only with a powerful microscope. If you look at
your hand you cannot see a cell, because it takes a great many
cells to make a spot large enough for you to see. In Figure 1 you
see a boy looking through a microscope, and beside him you see a
picture of what he sees. This picture does not look like the skin
on your hand, neither does it look like the skin on the boy's hand;
but it is nothing more nor less than a piece of skin taken from
that boy's hand, and it looks just as a piece of skin from your
own hand would look if you were to see it through a very strong
microscope.
[Sidenote: Why cells must not be killed]
The whole body is made up of just such little cells as you see in
Figure 4, and each cell is alive and has a certain work to perform.
It is very important that we keep these cells from dying and that
they perform the work for which they are intended, for if these
cells die or fail to act, the body becomes sick or dies.
[Illustration: FIG. 4. A cell. (a) Cell body; (b) nucleus; (c)
nucleolus.]
You can scratch some of the paint from your automobile and the
machine will work just as well as ever. Apparently no harm has been
done, but an opening has been made through which moisture and germs
can enter and cause the wood to rot and the iron to rust. You can
remove certain parts of the automobile and still the machine will
do its work; but you cannot take away too much of any one part
without weakening the automobile, and if certain parts are missing
(such as the sparker, the battery, or the steering-gear), the
usefulness of the machine is destroyed. So it is with the body. You
can scratch off some of the skin and not do any apparent harm, but
you have made an opening through which germs may get into the body.
You can remove certain parts of the body, such as the arm or leg,
and still the body will do efficient service. But there are certain
parts of the body that are necessary to life, just as certain parts
of the automobile are necessary to the usefulness of the machine.
You cannot remove the heart and live; you cannot remove the brain
and live.
[Sidenote: How cells are killed]
You are probably thinking that it must be easy to kill such a
little thing as a cell; and so it is. Cells can be killed by too
much heat or too much cold. When you skin your hand, you kill many
cells, and at the same time make an opening for germs to get in and
cause sickness. You can kill cells also by starving them, for they
must have not only enough food, but the right kind of food. If you
feed your bodies on nothing but candy, pie, and cake, most of the
cells will refuse to perform their work and many of them will die.
These cells must have also an abundance of air, and the air must be
pure and fresh. If you breathe the air that others have breathed or
that contains poison of any kind, you will soon find that you are
not feeling well. This simply means that so many of the cells are
being starved for fresh air, that not enough strong ones are left
to do the necessary work. You can kill these cells by overwork, for
they must have a proper amount of rest. If you go to school all
day long and then sit up until midnight every night, you must not
expect the cells of your body to keep strong and well. You can kill
these cells by the use of certain things that act as poisons to
them, such as tobacco, beer, wine, or whisky.
=Questions.= 1. In what way is the body like an automobile? 2.
What are cells like? 3. Why must cells not be killed? 4. Name
five ways by which we kill cells.
=Remember.= 1. Each part of the body is important to the welfare
of the whole body. 2. Each part of the body is made up of very
small particles that we call cells; each cell in the body is
alive and has a certain work to perform. 3. Cells are very easily
weakened and killed. 4. There are five principal ways by which
we kill the cells in our bodies: by too much heat or cold; by not
giving them the proper kinds of foods; by not giving them enough
fresh air; by giving them too much work to do; and by poisoning
them.
CHAPTER III
HOW CLOTHING AFFECTS HEALTH
[Illustration: FIG. 5. Warm, dry clothing necessary for health.]
[Sidenote: Why the body should be equally covered]
The body should always be kept at as nearly uniform a temperature
as possible. In order to do this we wear clothing. Clothing keeps
out the heat on a hot day, just as it keeps the heat in and the
cold out on a cold day. The clothing should be equally heavy on
all parts of the body. It is not right to wear a thick dress over
your chest and leave your shoulders and arms bare, or nearly so.
People who do this are killing a great many cells by letting part
of their bodies become chilled while the rest is warm, probably too
warm.
[Sidenote: Why clothing should not be too heavy]
The clothing should be just heavy enough to keep the body warm.
If you wear such heavy clothing indoors that you are constantly
perspiring, your underclothes become damp, and when you go out,
even though you put on your overcoat, your body becomes chilled. If
you begin to sneeze, that is Nature's way of telling you that you
are killing many of your cells by too much cold.
People sometimes get warm from exercising, and then take off their
coats. They should have removed their coats before they began to
exercise. If you take off your coat after you are too warm, your
body becomes chilled. Baseball pitchers know this, and if you watch
a good pitcher, you will see that he always puts on his sweater as
soon as he stops pitching, even though he is very warm. He knows
that if he cools off too quickly, he will become stiff and sore and
cannot pitch good ball.
[Sidenote: When a draft is dangerous]
Sometimes a person sits in a warm room until he begins to perspire
freely. Then he opens a window and sits in the draft. Under
ordinary conditions, the cool wind alone would chill the body, but
now the rapid drying of the perspiration makes the body cool still
more quickly. The sudden chill causes the person to take cold,
which is simply another way of saying that he has killed many cells
and caused others to fall sick, so that they cannot perform their
work. We cannot get too much fresh air. Drafts do not hurt us if
we are thoroughly wrapped up; but it is very dangerous to allow
the wind to strike the body when it is not well protected, and
especially when it is damp with perspiration.
[Illustration: FIG. 6. Properly prepared for wet weather.]
[Sidenote: Why damp clothing is dangerous]
Damp clothing chills the body very rapidly and kills many cells.
Indeed, if a single one of the germs that cause pneumonia were to
enter your lungs while you were wearing damp clothing, it would
grow so rapidly that you might have pneumonia in a very little
while. That is why it is important to change your shoes and
stockings as soon as you get them wet, and to take off immediately
any clothing that becomes damp. It is hard for boys and girls to
keep their feet dry in the winter and spring months, and rubbers
are a nuisance; but if you expect to grow into the strong man or
woman you picture yourself becoming, you must take care to wear
your rubbers. Otherwise you may become weak and sickly, and never
be able to do the things you hope to do.
The feet are not the only part of the body that needs to be kept
dry. A wet coat is just as harmful as wet shoes and stockings;
hence, you should always carry an umbrella or wear a raincoat when
you go out into the rain. Umbrellas are unhandy for boys and girls
to carry, but if you will remember that thousands of little cells
in your body are being injured when you get wet and chilled, you
will be willing to take your umbrella.
[Sidenote: When to wear an overcoat]
In cold weather the same amount of clothing should not be worn in
the house and outdoors; for this reason, we have overcoats. If you
wear your overcoat in the house, you will become overwarm and your
underclothing will then become damp with perspiration; when you go
outdoors into the cold air, this dampness will have just the same
effect as would dampness that comes from outside.
[Illustration: FIGS. 7 and 8. If you keep your overcoat on in the
house, your underclothes become damp from perspiration, and when
you go outdoors your body becomes chilled.]
As soon as the weather gets cold, put on your overcoat every time
you go outdoors, and take it off as soon as you come into the
house. This is troublesome for boys and girls to do, because they
want to run in and out of the house so often; but on the other
hand, think of all the cells you will kill if you do not do this,
and you will certainly consider it worth while to take off your
coat and put it on again.
=Questions.= 1. How does keeping the body equally covered protect
the cells? 2. Give reasons for not wearing too heavy clothing. 3.
When is it safe to sit in a draft, and when dangerous? 4. What
is the danger of keeping on wet shoes or other damp clothing? 5.
When and why should overcoats be worn?
=Remember.= 1. Clothing should be just heavy enough to keep the
body warm all the time. 2. Never take off your coat or sit in
a draft when you are too warm. 3. Since wearing damp clothing
causes a great deal of sickness, change your clothes as soon as
they become wet or damp. 4. Do not forget to take your umbrella
when it is raining and to wear your rubbers when the ground is
wet. 5. In cold weather wear your overcoat when you are outdoors,
but take it off when you come into the house.
CHAPTER IV
THE USES OF FOOD
We kill a great many of the cells in our bodies by starving them;
either we do not give them enough food or we do not supply the
right kind of food.
[Sidenote: Why the body needs new cells]
Not only must we feed the cells in our bodies, but we must be
constantly making new ones, for in all our work or play, awake or
asleep, we are constantly using up certain cells. These cells are
used to make the body go, just as the engine uses coal to form the
steam that gives it power to run. Boys and girls grow fast and, of
course, if they expect to become well men and women, they must make
a great many new cells all the time, in addition to those used in
doing the work of the body. If we are to make new cells we must
have the right kind of food with which to make them.
[Sidenote: How the body keeps itself warm]
We want to do something besides make new cells; we want to keep
warm and well the cells we already have. No amount of clothing
would keep you warm if you were not making heat inside your body
all the time, any more than you could make a telephone post warm
by putting your coat on it. Therefore it is necessary to have food
that makes heat in the body, in addition to food that builds cells.
We eat a great many kinds of foods, and all that we eat is used
either for building new cells or for producing heat in the body.
Thus we can divide all our foods into two classes--building
material and heat-producing material. The type of building material
is lean meat, and the type of heat-producing material is fat meat
and starches, such as potatoes and bread. Milk contains much
building material as well as heat-producing material. That is why
a baby grows and keeps warm while he takes nothing but milk.
[Sidenote: The building foods]
Lean meat is the best of all building foods. Eggs are largely a
form of lean meat, and hence constitute a good article of food for
building purposes. Certain vegetables contain a large per cent of
building material; this is especially true of dried beans and peas.
Wheat flour and corn meal (particularly when made of whole wheat
and unbolted meal) contain much building material.
It is possible for one to live and grow when eating only vegetable
matter. But the boy or girl who tries to become a strong man or
woman by eating only vegetables will be disappointed; these are
mostly heat-producing foods and will not make strong bodies.
Experience has proved that the best results are obtained by eating
what is called "a mixed diet," that is, a diet composed partly of
lean meats and partly of fats and vegetables.
[Sidenote: The heat-producing foods]
Of the heat-producing foods, fat is the most powerful. Most of the
fat that we eat is used immediately for producing in the body heat,
and therefore power, but a part of it is stored up for future use.
We see it in all healthy young persons. It is this stored-up fat
that gives the body its rounded form. When any one has been sick he
is thin, because, to produce heat and power while he was sick, he
has had to use the fat stored up in his body. To have such a supply
of fat is like having a bank account to draw on when out of work.
We might call the deposits of fat in our bodies our health banks.
Fat meat is not the only form in which we eat fats; we eat them
in a great many other ways. Certain vegetables, such as beans,
contain an oil that forms fat. Ripe olives contain a great deal
of fatty oil. Butter is a very important form of fat, and cream
contains a large amount of it.
[Sidenote: Cost of suitable foods]
In selecting our foods we should think of two things: _first_, the
value of the food as a heat-producer or as a building material;
and _second_, the cost of the food. We may like butter much better
than bacon, but we should remember that, pound for pound, bacon has
a greater nourishing power than butter, and a pound of bacon will
cost far less than a pound of butter.[1]
Vegetable foods produce heat by means of the starch which they
contain. All vegetables contain starch. This starch is changed
into a kind of sugar in the body, and when thus changed it is used
to produce heat and power. All vegetable foods do not have the
same heat-producing power. There is more heat-producing power in
a pound of oatmeal than there is in ten pounds of cabbage. Ten
cents' worth of dried beans will produce more heat in the body
than will a dollar's worth of lettuce. Thirty cents' worth of corn
meal will do more building in the body than will a piece of mutton
worth a dollar and a half; but you would have to eat a large amount
of corn meal in order to secure the building effect that would
result from eating a small quantity of mutton. In most fruits the
only nourishing quality is in the sugar they contain. This sugar
produces heat in the body just as starch does.
[Sidenote: The real value of advertised foods]
You will see some foods advertised as possessing a wonderful
nourishing power. Do not let such statements deceive you, for no
food can have a greater nourishing power than the things from which
it is made. If the particular food advertised is made from wheat
flour, its nourishing power is just the same as that of an equal
quantity of wheat flour. If it is made from corn meal, it can have
no greater nourishing power than has the meal itself.
We have learned something about the materials necessary in food and
why they are needed. We must now learn why foods that contain these
materials sometimes do not give us as good results as we might hope
for.
=Questions.= 1. What use does the body make of new cells? 2. How
does the body keep itself warm? 3. Name two uses that the body
makes of food. 4. What foods are especially useful for making
cells? 5. What foods are chiefly used for making heat? 6. Select
articles of food for two meals of equal nourishing value, one
meal to be expensive and the other inexpensive. 7. How would you
determine the real value of any food?
=Remember.= 1. Foods are used to make heat and power in the body
and to make the body grow. 2. The foods that make the body grow
are called building materials, and lean meat is the best kind
of building material. 3. The foods that produce heat and power
in the body are called heat-producing materials, and fats and
starches are the best heat-producers. 4. All vegetables contain
starch, some of them contain a fatty oil, and most of them
contain some building material. 5. You can get as much building
and heat-producing material from cheap foods as you can from
expensive foods.
CHAPTER V
CARE OF FOOD--MEATS
[Sidenote: Value of meat as a food]
Meat is one of the most important articles of our diet. It
furnishes essential materials for building cells, and it furnishes
fat for making heat and power in the body.
[Illustration: FIG. 9. A double menace to health; the
slaughterhouse is dirty, and the filth is drained into a stream.]
[Sidenote: Characteristics of good meat]
Since meat is so important an article of food, we should be very
careful to see that it is handled in a way to keep it always
perfectly clean. We should make sure that it comes from animals
absolutely free from any kind of disease, and that no germs have
been allowed to develop poisons in it.
[Sidenote: How meat may be kept clean]
While people know that they ought to pay attention to these things,
as a matter of fact they do not do it. They take very little
interest in the way the meat that they are to eat is handled, and
very few ever go to the slaughterhouse or into the back room of the
butcher shop to see whether things are kept clean or not. Some
people say, "Oh, we do not like to go there because it is such a
horrid place." If these places were kept clean, as they should be,
they would not be "horrid." And | 1,369.158195 |
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HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
NO. XX--JANUARY, 1852--VOL. IV.
[Illustration]
EARLY AND PRIVATE LIFE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
BY JACOB ABBOTT.
It is generally true in respect to great statesmen that they owe their
celebrity almost entirely to their public and official career. They
promote the welfare of mankind by directing legislation, founding
institutions, negotiating treaties of peace or of commerce between rival
states, and guiding, in various other ways, the course of public and
national affairs, while their individual and personal influence attracts
very little regard. With Benjamin Franklin, however, the reverse of this
is true. He did indeed, while he lived, take a very active part, with
other leading men of his time, in the performance of great public
functions; but his claim to the extraordinary degree of respect and
veneration which is so freely awarded to his name and memory by the
American people, rests not chiefly upon this, but upon the extended
influence which he has exerted, and which he still continues to exert
upon the national mind, through the power of his private and personal
character. The prevalence of habits of industry and economy, of
foresight and thrift, of cautious calculation in the formation of plans,
and energy and perseverance in the execution of them, and of the
disposition to invest what is earned in substantial and enduring
possessions, rather than to expend it in brief pleasures or for purposes
of idle show--the prevalence of these traits, so far as they exist as
elements of the national character in this country--is due in an
incalculable degree to the doings and sayings and history of this great
exemplar. Thus it is to his life and to his counsels that is to be
attributed, in a very high degree, the formation of that great public
sentiment prevailing so extensively among us, which makes it more
honorable to be industrious than to be idle, and to be economical and
prudent rather than extravagant and vain; which places substantial and
unpretending prosperity above empty pretension, and real comfort and
abundance before genteel and expensive display.
A very considerable portion of the effect which Franklin has produced
upon the national character is due to the picturesque and almost
romantic interest which attaches itself to the incidents of his personal
history. In his autobiography he has given us a very full and a very
graphic narrative of these incidents, and as the anniversary of his
birth-day occurs during the present month, we can not occupy the
attention of our readers at this time, in a more appropriate manner than
by a brief review of the principal events of his life--so far as such a
review can be comprised within the limits of a single article.
[Illustration]
The ancestors of Franklin lived for many generations on a small estate
in Northamptonshire, one of the central counties in England. The head of
the family during all this time followed the business of a smith, the
eldest son from generation to generation, being brought up to that
employment.
The Franklin family were Protestants, and at one time when the Catholics
were in power, during the reign of Mary, the common people were
forbidden to possess or to read the English Bible. Nevertheless the
Franklin family contrived to get possession of a copy of the
Scriptures, and in order to conceal it they kept it fastened on the
under side of the seat of a little stool. The book was open, the back of
the covers being against the seat, and the leaves being kept up by tapes
which passed across the pages, and which were fastened to the seat of
the stool at the ends. When Mr. Franklin wished to read his Bible to his
family, he was accustomed to take up this stool and place it bottom
upward upon his lap; and thus he had the book open before him. When he
wished to turn over a leaf, he had to turn it under the tape, which,
though a little inconvenient, was attended with no serious difficulty.
During the reading one of the children was stationed at the door, to
watch, and to give notice if an officer should be coming; and in case of
an alarm the stool was immediately turned over and placed in its proper
position upon the floor, the fringe which bordered the sides of it
hanging down so as to conceal the book wholly from view. This was in the
day of Franklin's _great-grandfather_.
In process of time, after the Catholic controversy was decided, new
religious dissensions sprang up between the Church of England and the
Nonconformists. The family of Franklin were of the latter party, and at
length Mr. Josiah Franklin--who was Benjamin Franklin's
father--concluded to join a party of his neighbors and friends, who had
determined, in consequence of the restrictions which they were under in
England, in respect to their religious faith and worship, to emigrate to
America. Mr. Franklin came accordingly to Boston, and there, after a
time, Benjamin Franklin was born. The place of his birth was in
Milk-street, opposite to the Old South Church. The humble dwelling,
however, in which the great philosopher was born, has long since
disappeared. The magnificent granite warehouses of the Boston merchants
now cover the spot, and on one of them is carved conspicuously the
inscription, BIRTHPLACE OF FRANKLIN.
Mr. Josiah Franklin had been a dyer in England, but finding on his
coming to Boston that there was but little to be done in that art in so
new a country, he concluded to choose some other occupation; and he
finally determined upon that of a tallow chandler. Benjamin was the
youngest son. The others, as they gradually became old enough, were put
to different trades, but as Benjamin showed a great fondness for his
books, having learned to read of his own accord at a very early age, and
as he was the youngest son, his father conceived the idea of educating
him for the church. So they sent him to the grammar school, and he
commenced his studies. He was very successful in the school, and rose
from class to class quite rapidly; but still the plan of giving him a
public education was at length, for some reason or other, abandoned, and
Mr. Franklin took Benjamin into his store, to help him in his business.
His duties here were to cut the wicks for the candles, to fill the
moulds, to attend upon the customers, or to go of errands or deliver
purchases about the town.
[Illustration]
There was a certain mill-pond in a back part of the town, where Benjamin
was accustomed to go sometimes, in his play-hours, with other boys, to
fish. This mill-pond has long since been filled up, and its place is now
occupied by the streets and warehouses of the city. In Franklin's day,
however, the place was somewhat solitary, and the shore of the pond
being marshy, the boys soon trampled up the ground where they were
accustomed to stand in fishing, so as to convert it into a perfect
quagmire. At length young Franklin proposed to the boys that they should
build a wharf, or pier, to stand upon--getting the materials for the
purpose from a heap of stones that had been brought for a house which
some workmen were building in the neighborhood. The boys at once acc | 1,369.158968 |
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Wilson's
Tales of the Borders
AND OF SCOTLAND.
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.
WITH A GLOSSARY.
REVISED BY
ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,
_One of the Original Editors and Contributors._
VOL. XX.
LONDON:
WALTER SCOTT, 14 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,
AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.
1884.
CONTENTS.
THE DOMINIE OF ST FILLAN'S, (_Alexander Leighton_) 1
SAYINGS AND DOINGS OF PETER PATERSON, (_John Mackay Wilson_) 34
THE HEROINE: A LEGEND OF THE CANONGATE, (_Alexander Leighton_) 66
THE BARLEY BANNOCK, (_Alexander Campbell_) 93
GLEANINGS OF THE COVENANT, (_Professor Thomas Gillespie_)--
xx. JOHN GOVAN'S NARRATIVE 111
xxi. "OLD BLUNTIE" 120
xxii. THOMAS HARKNESS OF LOCKERBEN 124
xxiii. THE SHOES REVERSED 132
THE LOST HEIR OF THE HOUSE OF ELPHINSTONE, (_Rev. G. Thomson_) 143
TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS, (_John Mackay Wilson_) 194
THE MISER OF NEWABBEY, (_Alexander Leighton_) 226
THE SEA SKIRMISH, (_Anon._) 258
WILSON'S
TALES OF THE BORDERS,
AND OF SCOTLAND.
THE DOMINIE OF ST FILLAN'S.
CHAPTER I.
PLEASANT REMINISCENCES OF MY FATHER.
It is now about twenty years sin' I first raised my voice in the desk o'
the kirk o' St Fillan's, in the parish o' that name, and He wha out o'
the mouths o' babes and sucklins did ordain praise, hath never thought
meet, by means o' ony catarrh, cynanche, quinsy, toothache, or lock-jaw,
to close up my mouth, and prevent me frae leadin the congregation in a
clear, melodious strain, to the worship o' the Chief Musician. When I
was ordained session clerk, schoolmaster, and precentor, I had already
passed about thirty years o' my pilgrimage; yet filled wi' Latin and
Greek, till my _pia mater_ was absolutely like to burst, I had,
notwithstanding, nae trade by the hand. The reason was this. My father,
who had been for forty years sexton o' the parish, had seen, wi' an e'e
lang practised in searchin for traces o' death in the faces o'
parishioners--for the labourer maun live by his hire, and the merchant
by his customers, "and thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands"--a
pleasant leucophlegmatic tinge about the gills o' Jedediah Cameron, my
predecessor in the three offices already mentioned. Weel, as the
husbandman in dry weather, when his fields are parched, and his braird
thin and weak, watches the clouds that contain rain--mair precious to
him than the ointment that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's dry
beard--my guid father watched the dropsical signs or indications in
Jedediah's face, daily and hourly, in the fair and legitimate hope o'
gettin the aridity o' my starvin condition quenched and satisfied. He
was an argute sexton, and had learned, in his younger days, some
smatterin o' Latin, though I never could ascertain that he retained more
of the humane lear, than the twa proverbs, "_Vita mortalium
brevis_," "Life is short," which comes originally frae Homer;
and "_Pecuniae obediunt omnia_," which comes frae the sixth chapter
o' Ecclesiastes--"Money answereth all things."
But my father was never contented wi' his ain _prognosis_. His ain ee
for death was as gleg as that o' the hawk for its quarry; but the
glegness wasna a mere junction or combination o' a keen and praiseworthy
desire to live, and a lang experience o' lookin for death in ithers; he
had science to guide him; he knew a' the Latin names comprehended in Dr
Cullen's "Nosology;" an' Buchan's "Domestic Medicine" was scarcely ever
out o' his hands, except when there was a spade in them. I hae the auld,
thumed, and faulded, and marked copy o' our domestic AEsculapius yet;
and, as I look at the store from which he used to draw the lore that
enabled him to see, as if by a kind o' necromantic divination, a guid
lucrative death, though still lodged in the wame o' futurity, I canna
but drap a tear to the memory o' ane wha toiled sae hard for the sake o'
his son. But I examine the book, sometimes, in a mair philosophic
way--to mark the train o' my auld parent's mind, as he had perused his
text-book; for it was his practice, when he saw ony o' the parishioners
exhibiting favourable symptoms--such as a hard, dry cough, puffed legs,
white liver lips, or even some o' the mair dubious indications, such as
a pale cheek, spare body, drooping head, difficulty in walking, morbid
appetite, or bulimia, the _delirium tremens_ o' dram-drinkers, the
yellow o' the white o' the ee o' hypochondriacs, and the like--to search
in Buchan for the diseases portended by thae appearances, and, when he
was sure he had caught them, to draw a pencil stroke along the margin
opposite to the pleasantest parts o' the doctor's descriptions. I never
saw mony marks opposite the common and innocuous complaints--_cholica_,
or pain in the stamach; _catarrhs_, or cauld; _arthritis_, or gout;
_rheumatismus_, or rheumatism; _odontalgia_, or toothache; and sae
forth: thae were beneath his notice. Neither did I ever observe ony
marks o' attention to what are called prophylactics, or remedies, to
prevent diseases comin on: thae nostrums he plainly despised. But, sae
far as I could discover, he had a very marked abhorrence o' what the
doctors ca' therapeutics, or means and processes o' curin diseases, and
keepin awa death; and as for what are denominated _specifics_, or
infallible remedies, he wouldna hear o' them ava--showin his despite o'
them by the exclamation--"Psha!" scribbled with contemptuous haste on
the margin. The soul and marrow o' the book to the guid man--bless
him!--were the mortal symptoms--the _facies Hippocraticus_, the
Hippocratic face; the _raucitus mortis_, or rattle in the throat;
_subsultus tendinum_, or twitching o' the hands and fingers; the glazing
o' the ee, and the stoppin o' the breath, and the like o' thae serious
signs and appearances. A strong, determined stroke o' the pencil marked
his attention to and interest in the Doctor's touchin account o' thae
turns o' the spindle wharby the thread o' our existence is wound up for
ever. It may be easily and safely supposed, that the melancholy words,
descriptive o' the oncome o' the grim tyrant himsel--"_and death closes
the tragic scene_"--sae touchingly and feelingly introduced by the
eloquent author werena lost on my respectit parent.
Guid man as he was, however, (I shall return presently to his study o'
my predecessor's dropsy,) it is painfu for his son to hae to say that,
though very generally respectit by people when they were in health and
prosperity, he hadna the same veneration extended to him by the same
individuals when they fell into disease. But though rejectin his visits,
sae lang as a patient was in life and capable o' bein benefited by his
lively manners, the breath was nae sooner out o' the body, than he was
sent for, ye might almost say by express. It is some consolation to me,
that my parent was far abune shewin resentment at conduct sae
contradictory and offensive. In place o' bein angry when invited to the
house o' a dead patient, from which he had been expelled during his
illness, he uniformly appeared well pleased--repairin, wi' the greatest
good humour, to the residence o' the deceased, and disdainin to exhibit
the slightest indication o' pique or anger. There are some men wha brak
the prophet's command--"Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead,
but remember that we die all;" but I can safely and upon my honour and
parole say, that my parent shewed nae greater signs o' happiness on the
death o' an enemy than he did on the death o' a friend. A man has a
pleasure in statin thae things o' a father.
These early associations hae a charm about them that's very apt to lead
a person off his direct road; "_Patriae fumus igne alieno
luculentior_"--the very smoke o' our father's fireside is clearer than
anither's flame. How bright, then, maun the virtue and honour o' a
father and mother appear to a dutiful and affectionate son! I was
stating, at the time when I was seduced into that pleasant episode, that
my father kept up a daily inspection o' the leucophlegmatic face o' my
predecessor, Jedediah Cameron; comparing, with, the greatest diligence,
the aqueous symptoms there discernible, with the description given by
his oracle, Dr Buchan; and, as his hopes strengthened, edging me, by
slow degrees, into the dominie's desk, and the schoolmaster's chair o'
authority, as the friendly and gratuitous assistant o' the dying man.
But my father had mair sense than to trust, entirely and allenarly, in
an affair o' sae gigantic importance, to ony dead authority. He was at
the heels o' Dr Dennistoun, our parish physician, as often as that
worthy man would permit his approach; and it was sometimes said, though
in a jocular way--and nae man likes a joke better than I do--that he
consulted the doctor as the farmer does the barometer, with a view to a
guid crop. But, were this even _vero verius, certo certius_, how could
my parent be blamed for being industrious? Unless ye thresh and grind,
ye hae little chance o' a dinner--"_Ni purgas et molas, non comedes_;"
an auld saying o' Diogenianus, particularly applicable to my father, who
had to support, by his industry, an idle sou--_bos in stabulo_--long,
bare-boned, ill-filled up, as hungry and voracious as a Cyclops, and
never weel-dined but on the day o' a dead-chack. I might blame my
respectable parent for consulting Dr Dennistoun about expected deaths
and burials, if mortals could avoid ony o' the twa; but we hae nae
Elijahs in thae days, "to be taken up in a whirlwind of fire, and in a
chariot of fiery horses." Death comes to a'--_mors omnibus communis_;
and Jedediah Cameron--bless him!--had nae chance o' bein made an
exception; otherwise my lank wame and lean cheeks stood a puir chance o'
bein sae weel filled up as they afterwards came to be, when I held his
three offices.
CHAPTER II.
A KIND PROVIDENCE SMILES ON MY PARENT'S SOLICITUDE.
If it hadna been to make certainty doubly sure, my father had nae
occasion to hound after Dr Dennistoun in the way he did, to ascertain
the probability o' the death o' Jedediah Cameron, or ony other mortal
that stood a chance o' needin a bit turf and a kindly clap o' his spade.
His ee was as sure as a cockatrice's. He needed nae howling o' the
moon-baying tyke, nae' death-watch, nae whip-lash on the table, nae
dead-drap, nae dead-shaving at the candle, nae coffin-spark frae the
fire, nae powers o second-sight, dreams, or divinations, to tell him
when he was to hae a guid job. He came to be able to read death in men's
faces, as he could do a printed book. Now, Jedediah Cameron didna
deceive him. Ae day, when I was busy teachin the puir man's scholars, he
came in, and whispered in my ear, that the parish clerk, schoolmaster,
and precentor o' St Fillan's, was dead. I was, at the time, in the very
act o' flogging an urchin wha had disputed my authority. The ferula fell
from my hands; the urchin's rebellion was, I thought, ominous o' the
rejection o' my claims o' succession; but, after a', there's nae oracle
like the presentiments o' a man's ain soul, speaking frae the inspired
tripod that is set owre the hollow-sounding, murmuring gulf o' an empty
stamach; and so the ancient Pythonissa o' Apollo's temple at Delphi,
judiciously took her seat over the abyss called the _umbilicus orbis
terrarum_. Being an honest man, I confess frankly that the first feeling
produced by my father's lively whisper, was a kind o' pleasure,
approaching as near to delight as any sensation I had yet discovered in
my microcosm. But I remembered the seventh verse o' the eighth chapter
o' Ecclesiasticus, directed against rejoicing over the dead; and, upon
the very instant, set vigorously to work, either to expel the delightful
emotion frae my mind, or, at least, to push the sweet rebel off the
cerebral throne--the pineal gland--and plunge him into some o' the deep
ventricles, or dungeons, lying in the lower part of the brain, or ben in
the cerebellum. It was a considerable struggle; but I succeeded to a
perfect miracle--a circumstance I am the more pleased with, as I hate
mortally that abominable cant of the Calvinists, about necessity, as if
a man hadna the whip-hand, direction, and guidance of his own will.
The grave o' Jedediah Cameron was, in due time, dog by my parent--wi'
what feeling, whether o' sorrow or satisfaction, I am not bound to say,
because a sense o' delicacy prevented me frae being present at the
breaking o' the earth; but I consider myself under an obligation to
state, that I never saw my respected parent cover up a mortal body so
cleverly. Lest, however, ony hasty-minded, sanguine individual, should,
from this admission o' mine, suppose that that cleverness, or
nimbleness, had ony connection with the alacrity o' joy, or the morbid
quickness o' a sorrow that wishes to get an unpleasant job out of hands,
I must explain that my father merely wanted--surely a most legitimate | 1,369.25602 |
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A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS
PUBLISHED BY METHUEN
AND COMPANY: LONDON
36 ESSEX STREET
W.C.
CONTENTS
PAGE
General Literature, 2-24
Ancient Cities, 24
Antiquary's Books, 25
Arden Shakespeare, 25
Beginner's Books, 26
Business Books, 26
Byzantine Texts, 26
Churchman's Bible, 26
Churchman's Library, 27
Classical Translations, 27
Classics of Art, 27
Commercial Series, 27
Connoisseur's Library, 28
Handbooks of English Church History, 28
Illustrated Pocket Library of Plain and Books, 28
Junior Examination Series, 29
Junior School-Books, 29
Leaders of Religion, 30
Library of Devotion, 30
Little Books on Art, 31
Little Galleries, 31
Little Guides, 32
Little Library, 32
Little Quarto Shakespeare, 33
Miniature Library, 33
New Historical Series, 34
New Library of Medicine, 34
New Library of Music, 34
Oxford Biographies, 34
Romantic History, 34
School Examination Series, 35
School Histories, 35
Simplified French Texts, 35
Simplified German Texts, 35
Six Ages of European History, 36
Standard Library, 36
Textbooks of Science, 36
Textbooks of Technology, 37
Handbooks of Theology, 37
Westminster Commentaries, 37
Fiction, 37-45
Books for Boys and Girls, 45
Novels of Alexandre Dumas, 46
Methuen's Sixpenny Books, 46
OCTOBER 1909
A CATALOGUE OF
MESSRS. METHUEN'S
PUBLICATIONS
In this Catalogue the order is according to authors. An asterisk
denotes that the book is in the press.
Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. METHUEN'S Novels issued
at a price above 2_s._ 6_d._, and similar editions are published of
some works of General Literature. Colonial editions are only for
circulation in the British Colonies and India.
All books marked net are not subject to discount, and cannot be bought
at less than the published price. Books not marked net are subject to
the discount which the bookseller allows.
Messrs. METHUEN'S books are kept in stock by all good booksellers. If
there is any difficulty in seeing copies, Messrs. Methuen will be very
glad to have early information, and specimen copies of any books will
be sent on receipt of the published price _plus_ postage for net books,
and of the published price for ordinary books.
I.P.L. represents Illustrated Pocket Library.
PART I.--GENERAL LITERATURE
=Abraham (George D.).= THE COMPLETE MOUNTAINEER. With 75
Illustrations. _Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 15s. net._
=Acatos (M. J.).= See Junior School Books.
=Addleshaw (Percy).= SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. With 12
Illustrations. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._
=Adeney (W. F.)=, M.A. See Bennett (W. H.)
=Ady (Cecilia M.).= A HISTORY OF MILAN UNDER THE SFORZA. With
20 Illustrations and a Map. _Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._
=Aeschylus.= See Classical Translations.
=Ainsworth (W. Harrison).= See I.P.L.
=Aldis (Janet).= THE QUEEN OF LETTER WRITERS, MARQUISE DE
SEVIGNE, DAME DE BOURBILLY, 1626-96. With 18 Illustrations.
_Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._
=Alexander (William)=, D.D., Archbishop of Armagh. THOUGHTS
AND COUNSELS OF MANY YEARS. _Demy 16mo. 2s. 6d._
=Alken (Henry).= See I.P.L.
=Allen (Charles C.).= See Textbooks of Technology.
=Allen (L. Jessie).= See Little Books on Art.
=Allen (J. Romilly)=, F.S.A. See Antiquary's Books.
=Almack (E.)=, F.S.A. See Little Books on Art.
=Amherst (Lady).= A SKETCH OF EGYPTIAN HISTORY FROM THE
EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY. With many Illustrations
and Maps. _A New and Cheaper Issue Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._
=Anderson (F. M.).= THE STORY OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE FOR
CHILDREN. With 42 Illustrations. _Cr. 8vo. 2s._
=Anderson (J. G.)=, B.A., NOUVELLE GRAMMAIRE FRANCAISE, A
L'USAGE DES ECOLES ANGLAISES. _Crown 8vo. 2s._
EXERCICES DE GRAMMAIRE FRANCAISE. _Cr. 8vo. 1s. 6d._
=Andrewes (Bishop).= PRECES PRIVATAE. Translated and edited,
with Notes, by F. E. BRIGHTMAN, M.A., of Pusey House, Oxford.
_Cr. 8vo. 6s._
See also Library of Devotion.
='Anglo-Australian.'= AFTER-GLOW MEMORIES. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._
=Anon.= THE BUDGET, THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE. _Second Edition.
Crown 8vo. 6d. net._
HEALTH, WEALTH, AND WISDOM. _Crown 8vo. 1s. net._
THE WESTMINSTER PROBLEMS BOOK. Prose and Verse. Compiled from
_The Saturday Westminster Gazette_ Competitions, 1904-1907.
_Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._
VENICE AND HER TREASURES. With many Illustrations. _Round
corners. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net._
=Aristotle.= THE ETHICS OF. Edited, with an Introduction and
Notes by JOHN BURNET, M.A., _Cheaper issue. Demy 8vo. 10s.
6d. net._
=Asman (H. N | 1,369.363352 |
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[Illustration]
TREAT 'EM ROUGH
LETTERS FROM
JACK THE KAISER KILLER
_By_
RING W. LARDNER
AUTHOR OF
My Four Weeks in France, Gullible's Travels, Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
FRANK CRERIE
INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT 1913
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOK MANUFACTURERS BROOKLYN, N.Y.
[Illustration]
JACK THE KAISER KILLER
CAMP GRANT, Sept. 23.
_FRIEND AL:_ Well Al I am writeing this in the recreation room at our
barracks and they's about 20 other of the boys writeing letters and I
will bet some of the letters is rich because half of the boys can't talk
english to say nothing about writeing letters and etc. We got a fine
bunch in my Co. Al and its a cinch I won't never die in the trenchs
because I will be murdered in my bed before we ever get out of here only
they don't call it bed in the army.
They call it bunk and no wonder.
Well Al I have been here since Wed. night and now it is Sunday and this
is the first time I have not felt sick since we got here and even at
that my left arm is so sore it is pretty near killing me where I got
vacinated. Its a good thing I am not a left hander Al or I couldn't get
a ball up to the plate but of course I don't have to think of that now
because I am out of baseball now and in the big game but at that I guess
a left hander could get along just as good with a sore arm because I
never seen one of them yet that could break a pain of glass with their
fast ball and if they didn't have all the luck in the world they would
be rideing around the country in a side door Pullman with all their
baggage on.
Speaking about baseball Al I suppose you seen where the White Sox have
cinched the penant and they will be splitting the world serious money
while I am drawing $30.00 per mo. from the Govmt. but 50 yrs. from now
the kids will all stop me on the st. and make me tell them what hotel we
stayed at in Berlin and when Cicotte and Faber and Russell begins to
talk about what they done to the Giants everybody will have themself
paged and walk out.
Well Al a lot of things come off since the last time I wrote to you. We
left Chi Wed. noon and you ought to seen the crowd down to the Union
station to bid us good by. Everybodys wifes and sisters and mothers was
there and they was all crying in 40 different languages and the women
wasn't allowed through the gates so farewell kisses was swapped between
the iron spokes in the gates and some of the boys was still getting
smacked yet when the train started to pull out and it looked like a
bunch of them would get left and if they had I'll say their wifes would
of been in tough luck.
[Illustration: Florrie was all dressed up like a horse and I bet a lot
of them other birds wished they was in my shoes (p. 10).]
Of course wife Florrie and little son Al was there and Florrie was all
dressed up like a horse and I bet a lot of them other birds wished they
was in my shoes when the kissing battle begun. Well Al we both
blubbered a little but Florrie says she mustn't cry to hard or she would
have to paternize her own beauty parlors because crying makes a girl
look like she had pitched a double header in St. Louis or something. But
I don't know if you will believe it or not but little Al didn't even
wimper. How is that for a game bird and only 3 yrs. old?
Well Al some alderman or somebody had got a lot of arm bandages made for
us with the words Kaiser Killers printed on them and they was also signs
stuck on the different cars on the train like Berlin or Bust and etc.
and the Stars and Strips was flying from the back platforms so we
certainly looked like regular soldiers even without no uniforms and I
guess if Van Hindburg and them could of seen us you wouldn't of needed a
close line no more to take their chest measure.
Well all our bunch come from the south side and of course some of them
was fans and the first thing you know they had me spotted and they all
wanted to shake hands and I had a smile for all of them because I have
got it doped out that we are all fighting for Uncle Sam and a man ought
to forget who you are and what you are and be on friendly turns with
everybody till after the war.
Well Al they had told us to not bring much baggage and some of the boys
come without even their tooth brush but they hadn't some of them forgot
to fetch a qt. bottle and by the time we got outside of the city limits
the engineer didn't have to blow his whistle to leave people know we
were comeing. Somebody had a cornet and another fellow had a trombone
and a couple of them had mouth organs and we all sung along with them
and we sung patriotic songs like Jonah Vark and Over There and when they
started on the Star Spangled Banner the guy I was setting along side of
him hollered for them to not play that one and I thought he was a pro
German or something and I was going to bust him but somebody asked him
why shouldn't they play it and he says because he couldn't stand up and
he wasn't the only one either Al.
The train stopped at a burg called Aurora and a bunch of the boys needed
air so they got off, some of them head first and one bird layed down on
the station platform and says he had changed his mind about going to war
and he was going to sleep there a while and catch the first train back
to Chi so we picked him up and throwed him back on our train and told
him we would have the engineer back up to Chi and drop him off and he
says O.K. and of course the train started ahead again but he didn't know
if we was going or comeing or looping the loop.
Well the trombone blower finely blowed himself to a nap and while he
was asleep a little guy snuck the trombone away from him and says "Look
here boys I am willing to give my life for Uncle Sam but I am not going
to die to no trombone music." So he throwed the trombone out of the
window without opening the window and the guy woke up that owned it and
the next thing you know the Kaiser Killers was in their first battle.
Well Al by the time we got to Camp Grant some of the boys looked like
they was just comeing from the war instead of just going and I guess I
was about the only one that was O.K. because I know how to handle it but
I had eat some sandwiches that a <DW77> give me on the train and they must
of been poisoned or something because when I got off everything looked
kind of blured.
We was met by a bunch of officers in uniform. The guy that had throwed
the trombone away had both eyes swelled shut and a officer had to lead
him to the head quarters and I heard the officer ask him if he was
bringing any liquor into the camp and he says yes all he could carry,
but the officer meant did he have a bottle of it and he says No he had
one but a big swede stuck his head in front of it and it broke.
Over to the head quarters they give us a couple of blankets a peace and
then they split us up into Cos. and showed us our barracks and they said
we looked like we needed sleep and we better go to bed right after
supper because we would have to get down to hard work the next
A.M. and I was willing to go to bed without no supper after
eating them dam sandwichs and the next time them <DW77>s trys to slip me
something to eat or drink I will hang one on their jaw.
Well Al the buggle has blowed for mess which is what they call the meals
and you would know why if you eat some of them so I will close for this
time and save the rest for the next time and my address is Co. C. 399th.
Infantry, Camp Grant, Ill.
Your Pal, JACK.
CAMP GRANT, Sept. 24.
_FRIEND AL:_ Well Al they give us some work out today and I am pretty
tired but they's no use going to bed till 9 o'clock which is the time
they blow the buggle for the men to shut up their noise. They do
everything by buggies here. They get you up at a quarter to 6 which is
first call and you got to dress in 15 minutes because they blow the
assembly buggle at 6 and then comes the revelry buggle and then you eat
breakfast and so on till 11 P.M. when they blow the taps buggle
and that means everybody has got to put their lights out and go to sleep
just as if a man couldn't go to sleep without music and any way a whole
lot of the boys go to sleep before 11 because with so many of us here
how could the officers tell if we waited for the buggle or didn't wait
for it?
Well Al about all we done the first 3 days was try and get the place to
looking like something because the men that built the buildings was to
lazy to clean up after themself and I wouldn't of minded only for
feeling so bad all day Thursday on acct. of that sandwich and Friday I
felt rotten because a Dr. vacinated me and fixed me up so as I can't
catch small pox or tyford fever and I would rather have the both of
them the same day then have that bird work on me again.
Thursday A.M. after breakfast a bunch of us went to the Drs.
and they give us a physical examination and before the Dr. examined me
he says "Well is they anything the matter with you outside of a
headache?" So I said "How do you know I got a headache" and he says
because they was a epidemic of them in the camp. Well Al I could of told
him why only of course I wouldn't squeel on the rest of the boys so all
I told him was about me eating that sandwich and he says all the boys
must of eat them and that shows how much them wise Drs. knows.
Well of course he didn't find nothing the matter with me physicly and he
says I was a fine specimen and the next place I went was to the head
quarters or something where they give us our uniforms and you ought to
see me in mine Al only the shoes is 6 sizes to big and I made a holler
about it but the man says they wouldn't be so big after I had wore them
a while. They must be fine shoes that will srink Al because all the
shoes I ever seen the more you wear them they get bigger. They give us
each 2 pair shoes one to march in with cleats on the bottom and a hat
and a hat cord and 5 pair sox and 2 shirts and a belt and 3 suits under
wear and 2 cocky suits.
And we had to tell our family history to a personal officer that writes
down all about you on a card and what kind of work you done before so if
the General or somebody tears their pants they won't have to chase all
over the camp and page a taylor because they can look at the cards and
find out who use to be a taylor and send for him to sow them up.
A lot of the boys give this officer a song and dance about how good they
can drive a car and etc. so they can get a soft snap like driveing one
of the officers cars and I could of got some kind of a snap only I come
here to be a soldier and fight Germans and not mend their pants.
The officer asked me my name and age and etc. and what I done in civil
life so I said "I guess you don't read the sporting page." So he says
"Oh are you a fighter or something?" So I said "I am a fighter now but I
use to pitch for the White Sox." So then he asked me what I done before
that so I told him I was with Terre Haute in the Central League and
Comiskey heard about me and bought me and then he sent me out to Frisco
for a while and I stood that league on their head and then he got me
back and I been with him about 3 years.
So the officer asked me if I ever done anything besides pitch so I told
him about the day I played the outfield in Terre Haute when Burns and
Stewart shut their eyes going after a fly ball and their skulls come
together and it sounded like a freight wreck and they was both layed out
so I and Lefty Danvers took their place and in the 8th. inning I come up
with 2 on and hit a curve ball off big Jack Rowan and only for the fence
that ball wouldn't of made no stops this side of Indpls.
So then the officer says "Yes but didn't you do something when you
wasn't playing ball?" so I told him a pitcher don't have to do nothing
only set on the bench or hit fungos once in a while or warm up when it
looks like the guy in there is beggining to wobble. So he says "Well I
guess I will put you down as a pitcher and when we need one in a hurry
we will know where to find one." But I don't know when they would need a
pitcher Al unless it was to throw one of them bombs and believe me when
it comes to doing that I will make a sucker out of the rest of these
birds because if my arm feels O.K. they's nobody got better control and
if they tell me to stick one in a German's right eye that is where I
will put it and not in their stomach or miss them all together like I
was a left hander or something.
[Illustration: Shut their eyes going after a fly ball, their skulls came
together and it sounded like a freight wreck (p. 20).]
Well Al we done a little training Friday and Saturday but today was the
first day we realy went to it. First of course we got up and dressed and
then they was 10 minutes of what they call upseting exercises and then
come breakfast which was oatmeal and steak and bread and coffee. The
way it is now you got to get your own dishs and go up to the counter and
wait on yourself but of course we will have waiters when things gets
more settled. You also got to make your own bed and that won't never
kill nobody Al because all as we got is 2 blankets and you don't have to
leave the bed open all A.M. like at home because whatever air wanted to
get in wouldn't let these blankets stop it.
Then they give us an hour of drilling and that was duck soup for me on
acct. of the drilling we done on the ball club last spring and you ought
to seen the corporal and sargent open their eyes when they seen me
salute and etc. but some of the birds don't know their right from their
left and the officers had to put a stick of wood in their right hand so
they would know it was their right hand and imagine if some of them was
ball players and played left field. They would have to hire a crossing
policeman to tell them where to go to get to their position and if they
was pitchers they wouldn't know if they was right hand pitchers or left
hand pitchers till they begun to pitch and then they would know because
if they were hog wild they would be left handers.
The corporals and sargents come from the regular army but after a while
Capt. Nash will pick some of us out to take their place and it is a
cinch I will be picked out on acct. of knowing all about the drills etc.
The next thing was a lecture on what they could do to us if we got
stewed | 1,369.367088 |
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The Heart-Cry of Jesus
BY BYRON J. REES,
Author of "Christlikeness," "Hulda, the Pentecostal Prophetess," and
"Hallelujahs from Portsmouth, Nos. 2 and 3."
DEDICATION.
TO MY MASTER, EVEN CHRIST.
INTRODUCTION.
THE NEED OF THE DAY.
The saying, "Necessity is the mother of Invention," finds nowhere a
more vivid illustration of its truth than in the publishing enterprises
of the modern Holiness movement. The onward movement of the Holy Ghost
along Pentecostal lines, convicting of depravity, creating a
clean-reading public, and endueing with power both pulpit and pew, has
resulted in a constant and growing demand for full-salvation
literature. Tens of thousands of pulpits do an active business on both
the wholesale and retail plan, with science and philosophy as stock in
trade. Famishing congregations are proffered the bugs of biology, the
rocks of geology, and the stars of astronomy until their souls revolt,
and they demand bread and meat.
THE NEED BEING SUPPLIED.
The great soul-cry is being met and answered by the publication and
distribution of soul-feeding, spirit-inspiring, health-giving Holiness
books and papers. God is raising up writers and editors from whose pens
pour melted truths, to the edification and blessing of thousands.
THE PURPOSE OF THIS BOOK.
In this little book we have a production in which the author has made
little attempt at the elucidation of doctrine or the waging of
controversy, but in great simplicity and directness he has presented
the truth with a view to helpfulness, desiring to introduce really
hungry souls into the Canaan life, and provide a well-loaded table of
rich provisions for those who are already "in the Land."
READERS WILL BE REFRESHED.
We believe that there is a warmth, fervor and glow about the pages of
this volume which will be most refreshing to many, many readers. May
the Holy Spirit put His seal upon it and give it an extensive
circulation.
SETH C. REES.
PROVIDENCE, R. I., NOVEMBER 15, 1898.
PREFACE.
WHAT IS SANCTIFICATION?
No one who accustoms himself to the observation of spiritual tides,
winds and currents can be ignorant of the fact that the devout men and
women of the present are earnestly inquiring, "What is sanctification?
What does holiness mean?" They are demanding of the pulpit and of the
church editor something more than the time-worn and moth-eaten excuses
for not teaching a deeper work of grace. The "seven thousand" who have
not "bowed the knee" to the modern Baals are insisting that, if God's
Word teaches entire sanctification for the disciple of Christ
obtainable by faith now, they must possess themselves of this heavenly
grace.
THE AUTHOR'S DESIRE.
It is with the purpose and hope that some seeking heart may be helped
that these pages are penned. The author has purposely avoided all
controversial matter. We would not assume the role of the doctrinaire
even were we capable of it. "Not controversy, not theology, but to save
souls," as Lyman Beecher said when dying.
THE NEED OF SPEED.
This book has been written in the midst of laborious and unceasing
revival work. For this reason there has been no time to polish
sentences nor improve style. The object has been to get the truth to
the people in plain language, and to do it with despatch, for the time
is short, and men are being saved or damned with electric speed.
THE BUZZARD AND VULTURE.
The buzzard and the vulture will find food if they look for it, but
with them we are not concerned. We are, however, terribly in earnest to
help hungry souls to a place of blessing and power.
May God take these leaves and make them "leaves of healing," if not for
"nations," at least for individuals.
BYRON J. REES.
NOVEMBER 14, 1898.
CONTENTS.
DEDICATION
INTRODUCTION
PREFACE
CHRIST'S PRAYER
CHAPTER I. A Word in the Prayer
CHAPTER II. Some Errors
CHAPTER III. Those for Whom Christ Prayed
CHAPTER IV. Christ's Prayer Answered
CHAPTER V. Christian Unity
CHAPTER VI. Fearlessness
CHAPTER VII. Responsiveness to Christ
CHAPTER VIII. Soul-Rest
CHAPTER IX. Prayerfulness
CHAPTER X. Success
CHAPTER XI. Growth in Christliness of Life
EXPERIENCE
CHRIST'S PRAYER:
"SANCTIFY THEM THROUGH THE TRUTH; TH | 1,369.559909 |
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Internet Archive)
[Illustration: Cover]
GEORGINA OF THE RAINBOWS
"As Long as a Man Keeps Hope
at the Prow He Keeps Afloat."
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Georgina Of The Rainbows]
GEORGINA
OF THE RAINBOWS
BY
ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
_Author of
"Two Little Knights of Kentucky," "The Giant Scissors,"
"The Desert of Waiting," etc._
[Illustration]
"_... Still bear up and steer
right onward._" MILTON
New York
Britton Publishing Company
Copyright, 1916
BRITTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC.
All Rights Reserved
To
My Little God-daughter
"ANNE ELIZABETH"
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "At the Tip of Old Cape Cod."]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. HER EARLIER MEMORIES 11
II. GEORGINA'S PLAYMATE MOTHER 22
III. THE TOWNCRIER HAS HIS SAY 30
IV. NEW FRIENDS AND THE GREEN STAIRS 40
V. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF PIRATES 51
VI. SPEND-THE-DAY GUESTS 63
VII. "THE TISHBITE" 77
VIII. THE TELEGRAM THAT TOOK BARBY AWAY 86
IX. THE BIRTHDAY PRISM 96
X. MOVING PICTURES 111
XI. THE OLD RIFLE GIVES UP ITS SECRET 124
XII. A HARD PROMISE 135
XIII. LOST AND FOUND AT THE LINIMENT WAGON 141
XIV. BURIED TREASURE 154
XV. A NARROW ESCAPE 161
XVI. WHAT THE STORM DID 169
XVII. IN THE KEEPING OF THE DUNES 178
XVIII. FOUND OUT 187
XIX. TRACING THE LINIMENT WAGON 198
XX. DANCE OF THE RAINBOW FAIRIES 209
XXI. ON THE TRAIL OF THE WILD-CAT WOMAN 218
XXII. THE RAINBOW GAME 230
XXIII. LIGHT DAWNS FOR UNCLE DARCY 244
XXIV. A CONTRAST IN FATHERS 258
XXV. A LETTER TO HONG-KONG 272
XXVI. PEGGY JOINS THE RAINBOW-MAKERS 283
XXVII. A MODERN "ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON" 291
XXVIII. THE DOCTOR'S DISCOVERY 304
XXIX. WHILE THEY WAITED 317
XXX. NEARING THE END 329
XXXI. COMINGS AND GOINGS 336
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY RAY N. JACKSON
THE REAL GEORGINA (in life colors) _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
THEY TOOK THEIR WAY IN "THE BETSEY" 54
COMING ACROSS A SEA OF DREAMS 240
THE TOWNCRIER AND HIS LASS 310
[Illustration: "Put a Rainbow 'Round Your Troubles."--GEORGINA.]
Georgina of the Rainbows
CHAPTER I
HER EARLIER MEMORIES
IF old Jeremy Clapp had not sneezed his teeth into the fire that winter
day this story might have had a more seemly beginning; but, being a true
record, it must start with that sneeze, because it was the first
happening in Georgina Huntingdon's life which she could remember
distinctly.
She was in her high-chair by a window overlooking a gray sea, and with a
bib under her chin, was being fed dripping spoonfuls of bread and milk
from the silver porringer which rested on the sill. The bowl was almost
on a level with her little blue shoes which she kept kicking up and down
on the step of her high-chair, wherefore the restraining hand which
seized her ankles at intervals. It was Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which
clutched her, and Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which fed her, so there was
not the usual dilly-dallying over Georgina's breakfast as when her
mother held the spoon. She always made a game | 1,370.061369 |
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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=0CT7dv6IKAEC
(the University of Wisconsin-Madison)
Bell's Indian and Colonial Library
JONAH'S LUCK
JONAH'S LUCK
BY
FERGUS HUME
AUTHOR OF
"_The Mystery of a Hansom Cab_," "_The Guilty House_,"
"_The White Room_," "_The Wooden Hand_,"
"_The Fatal Song_," "_The Scarlet Bat_,"
_etc., etc_.
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1906
_This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the Colonies
only_.
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN
II. A RECOGNITION
III. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
IV. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
V. HUE AND CRY
VI. THE CARAVAN
VII. KIND'S OPINIONS
VIII. MISS MAUD TEDDER
IX. THE SOLICITOR
X. THE INQUEST
XI. LOVERS
XII. THE STRANGE WORD
XIII. A MEXICAN BEAUTY
XIV. AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL
XV. A FRIEND IN NEED
XVI. M. GOWRIE'S PLOTTING
XVII. MAUD'S INHERITANCE
XVIII. A SURPRISING DEFENCE
XIX. MRS. MOUNTFORD'S ACCUSATION
XX. AT THE "MARSH INN"
XXI. ON BOARD THE YACHT
XXII. ANOTHER MYSTERY
XXIII. AN EXPLANATION
XXIV. START | 1,370.062097 |
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BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY
THE AGE OF FABLE
THE AGE OF CHIVALRY
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE
BY THOMAS BULFINCH
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME
[Editor's Note: The etext contains only LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE]
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE
No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete
without some notice of the American scholar to whose wide erudition and
painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "The Age of Fable"
has come to be ranked with older books like "Pilgrim's Progress,"
"Gulliver's Travels," "The Arabian Nights," "Robinson Crusoe," and five
or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which
every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be
called really complete. Many readers of the present edition will
probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it
may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of
numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds
since those early years. Yet to the majority of this great circle of
readers and students the name Bulfinch in itself has no significance.
Thomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass., where he was born in
1796. His boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college
in the Boston schools. He finished his scholastic training at Harvard
College, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his
home city. For a long time later in life he was employed as an
accountant in the Boston Merchants' Bank. His leisure time he used for
further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at Harvard,
and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his
reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. The plan
he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness,
is set forth in the Author's Preface.
"Age of Fable," First Edition, 1855; "The Age of Chivalry," 1858; "The
Boy Inventor," 1860; "Legends of Charlemagne, or Romance of the Middle
Ages," 1863; "Poetry of the Age of Fable," 1863; "Oregon and Eldorado,
or Romance of the Rivers," 1860.
In this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "The
Age of Fable," "The Age of Chivalry," and "Legends of Charlemagne" are
included. Scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of
Bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections
which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the
work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of
the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but
simply carrying it out in more complete detail. The section on Northern
Mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the
"Nibelungen Lied," together with a summary of Wagner's version of the
legend in his series of music-dramas. Under the head of "Hero Myths of
the British Race" have been included outlines of the stories of
Beowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of the verse
extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been
added from literature which has appeared since Bulfinch's time,
extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally
supervised the new edition.
Finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade.
All the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to
the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of
each has been given. Thus what was a mere list of names in the original
has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary,
which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not
necessarily connected with "The Age of Fable."
Acknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver Huckel for
information on the point of Wagner's rendering of the Nibelungen
legend, and M. I. Ebbutt's authoritative volume on "Hero Myths and
Legends of the British Race," from which much of the information
concerning the British heroes has been obtained.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps
to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then
Mythology has no claim to the appellation. But if that which tends to
make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that
epithet for our subject. For Mythology is the handmaid of literature;
and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of
happiness.
Without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our
own language cannot be understood and appreciated. When Byron calls
Rome "the Niobe of nations," or says of Venice, "She looks a Sea-Cybele
fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our
subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could
furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. Milton
abounds in similar allusions. The short poem "Comus" contains more than
thirty such, and the ode "On the Morning of the Nativity" half as many.
Through "Paradise Lost" they are scattered profusely. This is one
reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they
cannot enjoy Milton. But were these persons to add to their more solid
acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the
poetry of Milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would
be found "musical as is Apollo's lute." Our citations, taken from more
than twenty-five poets, from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how
general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology.
The prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant
and suggestive illustration. One can hardly take up a number of the
"Edinburgh" or "Quarterly Review" without meeting with instances. In
Macaulay's article on Milton there are twenty such.
But how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through
the medium of the languages of Greece and Rome? To devote study to a
species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete
faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age
like this. The time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of
facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a
science of mere fancy.
But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by
reading the ancient poets in translations? We reply, the field is too
extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require
some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. Let
any one who doubts it read the first page of the "Aeneid," and see what
he can make of "the hatred of Juno," the "decree of the Parcae," the
"judgment of Paris," and the "honors of Ganymede," without this
knowledge.
Shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or
by a reference to the Classical Dictionary? We reply, the interruption
of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers
prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it.
Moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the
charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when
stripped of its poetry? The story of Ceyx and Halcyone, which fills a
chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (Smith's)
Classical Dictionary; and so of others.
Our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of
mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. We
have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient
authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not
be at a loss to recognize the reference. Thus we hope to teach
mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our
work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a
knowledge of an important branch of education. The index at the end
will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a Classical
Dictionary for the parlor.
Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and Heroes" are
derived from Ovid and Virgil. They are not literally translated, for,
in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very
unattractive reading. Neither are they in verse, as well for other
reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the
embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. The attempt has been
made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as
resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and
omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form.
The Northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from
Mallet's "Northern Antiquities." These chapters, with those on Oriental
and Egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject,
though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in
the same volume with the classical fables.
The poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer
several valuable purposes. They will tend to fix in memory the leading
fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct
pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with
many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or
alluded to in reading and conversation.
Having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province,
we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant
literature is likely to find occasion for. Such stories and parts of
stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given.
But such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally
should be, the English reader need feel no mortification in confessing
his ignorance of them.
Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the
philosopher, but for the reader of English literature, of either sex,
who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public
speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in
polite conversation.
In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has endeavored to
impart the pleasures of classical learning to the English reader, by
presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern
taste. In "King Arthur and His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of | 1,370.062289 |
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[Illustration: A CINGHALESE GENTLEMAN.]
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE BULLER, NEW ZEALAND.]
GREATER BRITAIN.
_A RECORD OF TRAVEL_
IN
ENGLISH-SPEAKING COUNTRIES
DURING 1866-7.
BY
CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.
_TWO VOLUMES IN ONE._
WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO.
1869.
TO
MY FATHER
I Dedicate
THIS BOOK.
C. W. D.
PREFACE.
IN 1866 and 1867, I followed England round the world: everywhere I was
in English-speaking, or in English-governed lands. If I remarked that
climate, soil, manners of life, that mixture with other peoples had
modified the blood, I saw, too, that in essentials the race was always
one.
The idea which in all the length of my travels has been at once my
fellow and my guide--a key wherewith to unlock the hidden things of
strange new lands--is a conception, however imperfect, of the grandeur
of our race, already girding the earth, which it is destined, perhaps,
eventually to overspread.
In America, the peoples of the world are being fused together, but they
are run into an English mould: Alfred's laws and Chaucer's tongue are
theirs whether they would or no. There are men who say that Britain in
her age will claim the glory of having planted greater Englands across
the seas. They fail to perceive that she has done more than found
plantations of her own--that she has imposed her institutions upon the
offshoots of Germany, of Ireland, of Scandinavia, and of Spain. Through
America, England is speaking to the world.
Sketches of Saxondom may be of interest even upon humbler grounds: the
development of the England of Elizabeth is to be found, not in the
Britain of Victoria, but in half the habitable globe. If two small
islands are by courtesy styled "Great," America, Australia, India, must
form a Greater Britain.
C. W. D.
76 SLOANE STREET, S. W.
1_st November_, 1868.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
PART I.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. VIRGINIA 3
II. THE <DW64> 16
III. THE SOUTH 27
IV. THE EMPIRE STATE 33
V. CAMBRIDGE COMMENCEMENT 43
VI. CANADA 55
VII. UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 69
VIII. THE PACIFIC RAILROAD 78
IX. OMPHALISM 86
X. LETTER FROM DENVER 91
XI. RED INDIA 102
XII. COLORADO 110
XIII. ROCKY MOUNTAINS 115
XIV. BRIGHAM YOUNG 122
XV. MORMONDOM 127
XVI. WESTERN EDITORS 131
XVII. UTAH 144
XVIII. NAMELESS ALPS 152
XIX. VIRGINIA CITY 166
XX. EL DORADO 179
XXI. LYNCH LAW 190
XXII. GOLDEN CITY 207
XXIII. LITTLE CHINA 218
XXIV. CALIFORNIA 227
XXV. MEXICO 233
XXVI. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT 239
XXVII. BROTHERS 249
XXVIII. AMERICA 258
PART II.
I. PITCAIRN ISLAND 271
II. HOKITIKA 278
III. POLYNESIANS 293
IV. PAREWANUI PAH 299
V. THE MAORIES 319
VI. THE TWO FLIES 328
VII. THE PACIFIC 334
APPENDIX.
A MAORI DINNER 339
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
PART III.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SYDNEY 7
II. RIVAL COLONIES 15
III. VICTORIA 22
IV. SQUATTER ARISTOCRACY 38
V. COLONIAL DEMOCRACY 44
VI. PROTECTION 55
VII. LABOR 65
VIII. WOMAN 75
IX. VICTORIAN PORTS 79
X. TASMANIA 83
XI. CONFEDERATION 94
XII. ADELAIDE 98
XIII. TRANSPORTATION 109
XIV. AUSTRALIA 123
XV. COLONIES 130
PART IV.
I. MARITIME CEYLON 141
II. KANDY 154
III. MADRAS TO CALCUTTA 161
IV. BENARES 171
V. CASTE 178
VI. MOHAMMEDAN CITIES 191
VII. SIMLA 202
VIII. COLONIZATION 217
IX. THE "GAZETTE" 224
X. UMRITSUR 233
XI. LAHORE 245
XII. OUR INDIAN ARMY 249
XIII. RUSSIA 255
XIV. NATIVE STATES 267
XV. SCINDE 280
XVI. OVERLAND ROUTES 289
XVII. BOMBAY 298
XVIII. THE MOHURRUM 305
XIX. ENGLISH LEARNING 312
XX. INDIA 320
XXI. DEPENDENCIES 333
XXII. FRANCE IN THE EAST 339
XXIII. THE ENGLISH 346
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME I.
PAGE
VIEW FROM THE BULLER Frontispiece.
A CINGHALESE GENTLEMAN Frontispiece.
PROFILE OF "JOE SMITH" } 150
FULL FACE OF "JOE SMITH" }
PORTER ROCKWELL 154
FRIDAY'S STATION--VALLEY OF LAKE TAHOE 176
TEAMING UP THE GRADE AT SLIPPERY FORD, IN THE
SIERRA 178
VIEW ON THE AMERICAN RIVER--THE PLACE WHERE
GOLD WAS FIRST FOUND 180
THE BRIDAL VEIL FALL, YOSEMITE VALLEY } 228
EL CAPITAN, YOSEMITE VALLEY }
MAPS.
ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC RAILROAD 78
LEAVENWORTH TO SALT LAKE CITY 92
SALT LAKE CITY TO SAN FRANCISCO 158
NEW ZEALAND 278
VOLUME II.
THE OLD AND THE NEW: BUSH SCENERY--COLLINS
STREET EAST, MELBOURNE 24
GOVERNOR DAVEY'S PROCLAMATION 86
MAPS.
AUSTRALIA AND TASMANIA 16
OVERLAND ROUTES 290
PART I.
AMERICA.
GREATER BRITAIN.
CHAPTER I.
VIRGINIA.
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BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY
THE AGE OF FABLE
THE AGE OF CHIVALRY
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE
BY THOMAS BULFINCH
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME
[Editor's Note: The etext contains only LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE]
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE
No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete
without some notice of the American scholar to whose wide erudition and
painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "The Age of Fable"
has come to be ranked with older books like "Pilgrim's Progress,"
"Gulliver's Travels," "The Arabian Nights," "Robinson Crusoe," and five
or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which
every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be
called really complete. Many readers of the present edition will
probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it
may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of
numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds
since those early years. Yet to the majority of this great circle of
readers and students the name Bulfinch in itself has no significance.
Thomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass., where he was born in
1796. His boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college
in the Boston schools. He finished his scholastic training at Harvard
College, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his
home city. For a long time later in life he was employed as an
accountant in the Boston Merchants' Bank. His leisure time he used for
further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at Harvard,
and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his
reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. The plan
he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness,
is set forth in the Author's Preface.
"Age of Fable," First Edition, 1855; "The Age of Chivalry," 1858; "The
Boy Inventor," 1860; "Legends of Charlemagne, or Romance of the Middle
Ages," 1863; "Poetry of the Age of Fable," 1863; "Oregon and Eldorado,
or Romance of the Rivers," 1860.
In this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "The
Age of Fable," "The Age of Chivalry," and "Legends of Charlemagne" are
included. Scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of
Bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections
which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the
work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of
the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but
simply carrying it out in more complete detail. The section on Northern
Mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the
"Nibelungen Lied," together with a summary of Wagner's version of the
legend in his series of music-dramas. Under the head of "Hero Myths of
the British Race" have been included outlines of the stories of
Beowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of the verse
extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been
added from literature which has appeared since Bulfinch's time,
extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally
supervised the new edition.
Finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade.
All the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to
the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of
each has been given. Thus what was a mere list of names in the original
has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary,
which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not
necessarily connected with "The Age of Fable."
Acknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver Huckel for
information on the point of Wagner's rendering of the Nibelungen
legend, and M. I. Ebbutt's authoritative volume on "Hero Myths and
Legends of the British Race," from which much of the information
concerning the British heroes has been obtained.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps
to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then
Mythology has no claim to the appellation. But if that which tends to
make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that
epithet for our subject. For Mythology is the handmaid of literature;
and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of
happiness.
Without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our
own language cannot be understood and appreciated. When Byron calls
Rome "the Niobe of nations," or says of Venice, "She looks a Sea-Cybele
fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our
subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could
furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. Milton
abounds in similar allusions. The short poem "Comus" contains more than
thirty such, and the ode "On the Morning of the Nativity" half as many.
Through "Paradise Lost" they are scattered profusely. This is one
reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they
cannot enjoy Milton. But were these persons to add to their more solid
acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the
poetry of Milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would
be found "musical as is Apollo's lute." Our citations, taken from more
than twenty-five poets, from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how
general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology.
The prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant
and suggestive illustration. One can hardly take up a number of the
"Edinburgh" or "Quarterly Review" without meeting with instances. In
Macaulay's article on Milton there are twenty such.
But how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through
the medium of the languages of Greece and Rome? To devote study to a
species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete
faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age
like this. The time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of
facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a
science of mere fancy.
But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by
reading the ancient poets in translations? We reply, the field is too
extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require
some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. Let
any one who doubts it read the first page of the "Aeneid," and see what
he can make of "the hatred of Juno," the "decree of the Parcae," the
"judgment of Paris," and the "honors of Ganymede," without this
knowledge.
Shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or
by a reference to the Classical Dictionary? We reply, the interruption
of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers
prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it.
Moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the
charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when
stripped of its poetry? The story of Ceyx and Halcyone, which fills a
chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (Smith's)
Classical Dictionary; and so of others.
Our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of
mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. We
have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient
authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not
be at a loss to recognize the reference. Thus we hope to teach
mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our
work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a
knowledge of an important branch of education. The index at the end
will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a Classical
Dictionary for the parlor.
Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and Heroes" are
derived from Ovid and Virgil. They are not literally translated, for,
in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very
unattractive reading. Neither are they in verse, as well for other
reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the
embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. The attempt has been
made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as
resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and
omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form.
The Northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from
Mallet's "Northern Antiquities." These chapters, with those on Oriental
and Egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject,
though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in
the same volume with the classical fables.
The poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer
several valuable purposes. They will tend to fix in memory the leading
fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct
pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with
many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or
alluded to in reading and conversation.
Having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province,
we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant
literature is likely to find occasion for. Such stories and parts of
stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given.
But such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally
should be, the English reader need feel no mortification in confessing
his ignorance of them.
Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the
philosopher, but for the reader of English literature, of either sex,
who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public
speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in
polite conversation.
In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has endeavored to
impart the pleasures of classical learning to the English reader, by
presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern
taste. In "King Arthur and His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the
second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several
states of Modern Europe.
It is believed that this presentation of a literature which held
unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many
centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to
the amusement it may afford. The tales, though not to be trusted for
their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is
beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age
are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its
peoples, generally leading to no result. Besides this, the literature
of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern
poets frequently resort. The Italian poets, Dante and Ariosto, the
English, Spenser, Scott, and Tennyson, and our own Longfellow and
Lowell, are examples of this.
These legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted
to a group of characters strongly individualized in Arthur, Launcelot,
and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and
invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the
legends of the Greek and Roman mythology. And if every well-educated
young person is expected to know the story of the Golden Fleece, why is
the quest of the Sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if an
allusion to the shield of Achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why
should one to Excalibar, the famous sword of Arthur?--
"Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,
With that terrific sword,
Which yet he brandishes for future war,
Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star."
[Footnote: Wordsworth]
It is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to
cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. We
are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the
land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. The
associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good
influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased
enjoyment which such associations afford to the American traveller when
he visits England, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned
localities.
The legends of Charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the
subject.
In an age when intellectual darkness enveloped Western Europe, a
constellation of brilliant writers arose in Italy. Of these, Pulci
(born in 1432), Boiardo (1434), and Ariosto (1474) took for their
subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted
in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. These
fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of
fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with
immortality. It may safely be asserted that as long as civilization
shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most
cherished creations of human genius.
In "Stories of Gods and Heroes," "King Arthur and His Knights" and "The
Mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such
knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is
needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and
conversation. The "Legends of Charlemagne" is intended to carry out the
same design. Like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a
higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. It claims to
be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the
productions of the great poets of Italy. Some knowledge of these is
expected of every well-educated young person.
In reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive
inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations
of fabulists. The Siren of Ulysses is the prototype of the Siren of
Orlando, and the character of Circe reappears in Alcina. The fountains
of Love and Hatred may be traced to the story of Cupid and Psyche; and
similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of
Tristram and Isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in
Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream." There are many other instances
of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance.
The sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the Italian
poets named above; next, the "Romans de Chevalerie" of the Comte de
Tressan; lastly, certain German collections of popular tales. Some
chapters have been borrowed from Leigh Hunt's Translations from the
Italian Poets. It seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had
already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not
be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete.
THOMAS BULFINCH.
CONTENTS
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE
Introduction
The Peers, or Paladins
The Tournament
The Siege of Albracca
Adventures of Rinaldo and Orlando
The Invasion of France
The Invasion of France (Continued)
Bradamante and Rogero
Astolpho and the Enchantress
The Orc
Astolpho's Adventures continued, and Isabella's begun.
Medoro
Orlando Mad
Zerbino and Isabella
Astolpho in Abyssinia
The War in Africa
Rogero and Bradamante
The Battle of Roncesvalles
Rinaldo and Bayard
Death of Rinaldo
Huon of Bordeaux
Huon of Bordeaux (Continued)
Huon of Bordeaux (Continued)
Ogier, the Dane
Ogier, the Dane (Continued)
Ogier, the Dane (Continued)
GLOSSARY
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE
INTRODUCTION
Those who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables relating
to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of Charles
Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have been blended in popular
tradition with those properly belonging to Charlemagne. It was indeed a
most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience, before
entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are about to
lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history of the
times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of the
poets.
In the century beginning from the year 600, the countries bordering
upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east and south, had not yet
received his religion. Arabia was the seat of an idolatrous religion
resembling that of the ancient Persians, who worshipped the sun, moon,
and stars. In Mecca, in the year 571, Mahomet was born, and here, at
the age of forty, he proclaimed himself the prophet of God, in dignity
as superior to Christ as Christ had been to Moses. Having obtained by
slow degrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms to
diffuse his religion. The energy and zeal of his followers, aided by
the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors
to spread the sway of Arabia and the religion of Mahomet over the
countries to the east as far as the Indus, northward over Persia and
Asia Minor, westward over Egypt and the southern shores of the
Mediterranean, and thence over the principal portion of Spain. All this
was done within one hundred years from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet
from Mecca to Medina, which happened in the year 622, and is the era
from which Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ.
From Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers of
Mahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, if achieved,
would have been followed very probably by that of all the rest of
Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of Christianity from
the earth. For Christianity was not at that day universally professed,
even by those nations which we now regard as foremost in civilization.
Great part of Germany, Britain, Denmark, and Russia were still pagan or
barbarous.
At that time there ruled in France, though without the title of king,
the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we have spoken,
Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. The Saracens of Spain
had made incursions into France in 712 and 718, and had retired,
carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa, who was then the
Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees with a numerous army,
and took by storm the strong town of Carcassone. So great was the
terror excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide extent
submitted to the conqueror, and a Mahometan governor for the province
was appointed and installed at Narbonne. Anbessa, however, received a
fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the Saracens, being thus
checked from further advance, retired to Narbonne.
In 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman, advanced
rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege to Bordeaux. The
city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. The
invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of
Orleans, Auxerre and Sens. Their advanced parties were suddenly called
in by their chief, who had received information of the rich abbey of
St. Martin of Tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it.
Charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the Saracens,
for the reason that the portion of France over which their incursions
had been made was not at that time under his dominion, but constituted
an independent kingdom, under the name of Aquitaine, of which Eude was
king. But now Charles became convinced of the danger, and prepared to
encounter it. Abdalrahman was advancing toward Tours, when intelligence
of the approach of Charles, at the head of an army of Franks, compelled
him to fall back upon Poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field
of battle.
Charles Martel had called together his warriors from every part of his
dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been
seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and, being
joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came in sight of the
Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seem to have been
aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the
first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. The two armies
remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin
the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by
Abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the Saracen army rushed with fury
on the Franks. But the heavy line of the Northern warriors remained
like a rock, and the Saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended
their strength in vain attempts to make any impression upon them. At
length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was
preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the
Franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It was
King Eude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and a
great part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to
protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line of the
Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful
slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperate efforts to
rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his
officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, all order
disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their immense
camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had been repulsed. It was now
late, and Charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the camp in the dark,
withdrew his army, and passed the night in the plain, expecting to
renew the battle in the morning.
Accordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order of battle,
but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to approach the
Saracen camp they found it empty. The invaders had taken advantage of
the night to begin their retreat, and were already on their way back to
Spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to fall into the hands of
the Franks.
This was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers of the
Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks. Charles
received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequence of this
victory.
The Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold their
ground in the south of France; but Pepin, the son of Charles Martel,
who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title of king,
successively took from them the strong places they held; and in 759, by
the capture of Narbonne, their capital, extinguished the remains of
their power in France.
Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, on the
throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero of numerous
romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction. Whether
we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron of learning
or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is entitled to our
warmest admiration. Such he is in history; but the romancers represent
him as often weak and passionate, the victim of treacherous
counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on whose prowess he
depends for the maintenance of his throne. The historical
representation is doubtless the true one, for it is handed down in
trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events of the age. At the
height of his power, the French empire extended over what we now call
France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, and great part of Italy.
In the year 800 Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gone with a
numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by the Pontiff Emperor
of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered the Church of St. Peter,
as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the mass with the
rest of the congregation. When he approached the altar and stooped in
the act of prayer the Pope stepped forward and placed a crown of gold
upon his head; and immediately the Roman people shouted, "Life and
victory to Charles the August, crowned by God the great and pacific
Emperor of the Romans." The Pope then prostrated himself before him,
and paid him reverence, according to the custom established in the
times of the ancient Emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing
him with consecrated oil.
Charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous people,
who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries now called
Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against the Saracens of
Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carried on, as the
romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain. He entered Spain
by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of Barcelona and
Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to open her gates to him, and Charles
ended by negotiating and accepting a vast sum of gold as the price of
his return over the Pyrenees.
On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges of
the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and Roncesvalles.
The chief of this region had waited upon Charlemagne, on his advance,
as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the return of the
Franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers who
acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights of the
mountains under which the army had to pass. The main body of the troops
met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of danger; but the
rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and encumbered with its
plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of
Roncesvalles, and slain to a man. Some of the bravest of the Frankish
chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned Roland or
Orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany. His name
became famous in after times, and the disaster of Roncesvalles and
death of Roland became eventually the most celebrated episode in the
vast cycle of romance.
Though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies of
Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, and generally
on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation for the stories of
the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events of an earlier
and of a later age to be incorporated with those of Charlemagne's own
time.
There is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was
admitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims,
a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is "History of
Charles the Great and Orlando." It is now unhesitatingly considered as
a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous and
unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by
ascribing its authorship to a well-known and eminent individual. It
introduces its pretended author, Bishop Turpin, in this manner:
"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charles the
Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a
genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor,
beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often fought the
Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, he relates the acts of
Charles the Great in one book, and flourished under Charles and his son
Louis, to the year of our Lord eight hundred and thirty."
The titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show the nature
of his history. They are these: "Of the Walls of Pampeluna, that fell
of themselves." "Of the War of the holy Facundus, where the Spears
grew." (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears in the evening,
erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them, in the morning,
covered with bark and branches.) "How the Sun stood still for Three
Days, and of the Slaughter of Four Thousand Saracens."
Turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous
adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated around
the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. But Ariosto and
the other Italian poets have drawn from different sources, and
doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories
which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as
their authority "the good Turpin," though his history contains no trace
of them; and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather the
impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to cite
"the Archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his
unquestionable veracity.
The principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of the peers
of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. The characters of
Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, are the same in all,
though the adventures attributed to them are different. Boiardo tells
us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto of his disappointment and
consequent madness, Pulci of his death.
Ogier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romance in
representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from Denmark and a
Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service under Charlemagne. He
revolted from the Emperor, and was driven into exile. He afterwards led
one of those bands of piratical Northmen which ravaged France under the
reigns of Charlemagne's degenerate successors. The description which an
ancient chronicler gives of Charlemagne, as described by Ogier, is so
picturesque, that we are tempted to transcribe it. Charlemagne was
advancing to the siege of Pavia. Didier, King of the Lombards, was in
the city with Ogier, to whom he had given refuge. When they learned
that the king was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they
could see far and wide over the country. "They first saw advancing the
engines of war, fit for the armies of Darius or Julius Caesar. 'There
is Charlemagne,' said Didier. 'No,' said Ogier. The Lombard next saw a
vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'Certainly Charles
advanced with that host,' said the king. 'Not yet,' replied Ogier.
'What hope for us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater
host than that?' At last Charles appeared, his head covered with an
iron helmet, his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with
a cuirass of iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right
hand grasped his sword. Those who went before the monarch, those who
marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms.
Iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the rays
of the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose hearts were
harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror into the streets
of the city."
This picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would be incomplete
without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." One of the greatest
of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared the glory of Charlemagne
to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the darkness of barbarism
to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of feudalism. But the
light of this meteor was not extinguished, and reviving civilization
owed much that was permanently beneficial to the great Emperor of the
Franks. His ruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well
as in the administration of the laws. He encouraged learning; he upheld
the clergy, who were the only peaceful and | 1,370.157226 |
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HEROES OF THE REFORMATION.
I.--Martin Luther (1483-1546). THE HERO OF THE REFORMATION. By
Henry Eyster Jacobs, D.D., LL.D.
II.--Philip Melanchthon (1497-1560). THE PROTESTANT PRECEPTOR
OF GERMANY. By James William Richard, D.D.
III.--Desiderius Erasmus (1467-1536). THE HUMANIST IN THE
SERVICE OF THE REFORMATION. By Ephraim Emerton, Ph.D.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
_Heroes of the Reformation_
EDITED BY
Samuel Macauley Jackson
PROFESSOR OF CHURCH HISTORY, NEW YORK
UNIVERSITY
Διαιρέσεις χαρισμάτων, τὸ δὲ αὐτὸ πνεῦμα.
DIVERSITIES OF GIFTS, BUT THE SAME SPIRIT.
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS
[Illustration]
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF ERASMUS BY HOLBEIN.
ORIGINAL IN THE LOUVRE.]
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS
OF ROTTERDAM
BY
EPHRAIM EMERTON, PH.D.
WINN PROFESSOR OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY
O Erasme Roterodame, wo wiltu bleiben? Sieh, was vermag die
ungerecht tyranney der weltlichen gewahlt, der macht der
finsternuss? Hör, du ritter Christi, reith hervor neben den
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Transcriber's Note:
Words which were in italics in the original book are surrounded by
underlines (_italic_). Words which were originally printed in small
caps are in all caps. Obvious misprints have been fixed. Archaic and
unusual words, spellings and styling have been maintained. Details of
the changes are in the Detailed Transcriber's Notes at the end of the
book.
FRUITS
OF THE
HAWAIIAN ISLANDS
BY
GERRIT PARMILE WILDER
(REVISED EDITION, INCLUDING VOL. 1, 1906.)
ILLUSTRATED BY ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE HALF-TONE
PLATES WITH DESCRIPTIONS OF SAME
Copyright December 1906, December 1911
GERRIT PARMILE WILDER
HONOLULU, T. H.
PUBLISHED BY THE HAWAIIAN GAZETTE CO., LTD.
1911
INDEX
Preface 5
Persea gratissima, Avocado, Palta or Alligator Pear, Plate I 7
Persea gratissima, Avocado, Plate II 9
Persea gratissima, Guatamala Avocado, Plate III 11
Punica Granatum, Pomegranate, Plate IV 13
Ficus Carica (common var.), Fig, Plate V 15
Ficus Carica, Fig, Plate VI 17
Ficus Carica (white or lemon var.), Fig, Plate VII 19
Jambosa malaccensis, Mountain Apple or "Ohia Ai," Plate VIII 21
Jambosa sp., Water Apple, Plate IX 23
Jambosa sp. (white var.), Water Apple, Plate X 25
Jambosa sp. (red var.), Water Apple, Plate XI 27
Eugenia Jambos, Rose Apple, Plate XII 29
Eugenia brasiliensis, Brazilian Plum or Spanish Cherry, Plate XIII 31
Eugenia uniflora, French Cherry, Plate XIV 33
Eugenia sp., Plate XV 35
Syzygium Jambolana, Java Plum, Plate XVI 37
Syzygium Jambolana (small variety), Java Plum, Plate XVII 39
Averrhoa Carambola, Plate XVIII 41
Achras Sapota, Sapodilla or Naseberry, Plate XIX 43
Casimiroa edulis, White Sapodilla, Plate XX 45
Prunus Persica, Peach, Plate XXI 47
Chrysophyllum Cainito (purple var.), Star Apple, Plate XXII 49
Chrysophyllum Cainito (white var.), Star Apple, Plate XXIII 51
Chrysophyllum monopyrenum, Plate XXIV 53
Mimusops Elengi, Plate XXV 55
Spondias dulcis, "Wi," Plate XXVI 57
Spondias lutea, Hog Plum, Plate XXVII 59
Mammea Americana, Mammee Apple, Plate XXVIII 61
Tamarindus indica, Tamarind, Plate XXIX 63
Durio zibethinus, Durion, Plate XXX 65
Coffea arabica, Arabian Coffee, Plate XXXI 67
Coffea liberica, Liberian Coffee, Plate XXXII 69
Clausena Wampi, Wampi, Plate XXXIII 71
Physalis peruviana, Cape Gooseberry or "Poha," Plate XXXIV 73
Carica Papaya, Papaya (fruit, female tree), Plate XXXV 75
Carica Papaya, Papaya (fruit, male tree), Plate XXXVI 77
Carica quercifolia, Plate XXXVII 79
Citrus Japonica (var. "Hazara"), Chinese Orange, Plate XXXVIII 81
Citrus Japonica, Kumquat, Plate XXXIX 83
Citrus Nobilis, Mandarin Orange, Plate XL 85
Citrus medica limetta, Lime, Plate XLI 87
Citrus medica limonum, Lemon, Plate XLII 89
Citrus medica (var. limonum), Rough-skin Lemon, Plate XLIII 91
Citrus Aurantium Sinense, Waialua Orange, Plate XLIV 93
Citrus Aurantium, Bahia or Washington Navel Orange, Plate XLV 95
Citrus Decumana, Pomelo or Shaddock (pear-shaped var.), Plate XLVI 97
Citrus Decumana, Pomelo or Shaddock (round var.), Plate XLVII 99
Artocarpus incisa, Breadfruit (Hawaiian var.) or "Ulu," Plate XLVIII 101
Artocarpus incisa, Breadfruit (Samoan var.), Plate XLIX 103
Artocarpus incisa, Breadfruit (Tahitian var.), Plate L 105
Artocarpus incisa, Fertile Breadfruit, Plate LI 107
Artocarpus integrifolia, Jack Fruit, Plate LII 109
Anona muricata, Sour Sop, Plate LIII 111
Anona Cherimolia, Cherimoyer, Plate LIV 113
Anona reticulata, Custard Apple, Plate LV 115
Anona squamosa, Sugar Apple or Sweet Sop, Plate LVI 117
Psidium Guayava pomiferum, Common Guava, Plate LVII 119
Psidium Guayava, Sweet Red Guava, Plate LVIII 121
Psidium Guayava, White Lemon Guava, Plate LIX 123
Psidium Guayava pyriferum, "Waiawi," Plate LX 125
Psidium Cattleyanum, Strawberry Guava, Plate LXI 127
Psidium Cattleyanum (var. lucidum), Plate LXII 129
Psidium molle, Plate LXIII 131
Mangifera indica, Mango, Plate LXIV 133
Mangifera indica, Manini Mango, Plate LXV 135
Mangifera indica, No. 9 Mango, Plate LXVI 137
Musa (var.), Banana or "Maia," Plate LXVII 139
Morinda citrifolia, "Noni," Plate LXVIII 141
Vaccinium reticulatum, "Ohelo," Plate LXIX 143
Solanum pimpinellifolium, Currant Tomato, Plate LXX 145
Solanum Lycopersicum, Grape Tomato, Plate LXX 145
Solanum nodiflorum, "Popolo," Plate LXXI 147
Aleurites moluccana, Candlenut Tree or "Kukui Nut," Plate LXXII 149
Terminalia Catappa, Tropical Almond or "Kamani," Plate LXXIII 151
Calophyllum inophyllum "Kamani," Plate LXXIV 153
Noronhia emarginata, Plate LXXV 155
Castanea sativa, Japanese Chestnut, Plate LXXVI 157
Inocarpus edulis, Tahitian Chestnut, Plate LXXVII 159
Canarium commune, Canary Nut, Plate LXXVIII 161
Canarium commune, Canary Nut (round var.), Plate LXXIX 163
Macadamia ternifolia, Queensland Nut, Plate LXXX 165
Macadamia sp., Plate LXXXI 167
Aegle Marmelos, Bhel or Bael Fruit, Plate LXXXII 169
Diospyros decandra, Brown Persimmon, Plate LXXXIII 171
Lucuma Rivicoa, Plate LXXXIV 173
Eriobotrya Japonica, Loquat, Plate LXXXV 175
Litchi Chinensis, "Lichee," Plate LXXXVI 177
Euphoria Longana, Longan, Plate LXXXVII 179
Morus nigra, Mulberry, Plate LXXXVIII 181
Garcinia mangostana, Mangosteen, Plate LXXXIX 183
Garcinia Xanthochymus, Plate XC 185
Bunchosia sp., Plate XCI 187
Malpighia glabra, Barbados Cherry, Plate XCII 189
Theobroma Cacao, Cocoa or Chocolate Tree, Plate XCIII 191
Hibiscus Sabdariffa, Roselle, Plate XCIV 193
Monstera deliciosa, Plate XCV 195
Anacardium occidentale, Cashew Nut, Plate XCVI 197
Ziziphus Jujuba, "Jujube," Plate XCVII 199
Phyllanthus emblica, Plate XCVIII 201
Phyllanthus distichus, Otaheiti Gooseberry, Plate XCIX 203
Olea Europea, Olive, Plate C 205
Vitis Labrusca, "Isabella Grape," Plate CI 207
Pyrus Sinensis, Sand pear, Plate CII 209
Passiflora quadrangularis, Granadilla Vine, Plate CIII 211
Passiflora edulis, Purple Water Lemon or "Lilikoi," Plate CIV 213
Passiflora laurifolia, Yellow Water Lemon, Plate CV 215
Passiflora alata, Plate CVI 217
Passiflora var. foetida, Plate CVII 219
Cereus triangularis, Night-blooming Cereus, Plate CVIII 221
Kigelia pinnata, Sausage Tree, Plate CIX 223
Phoenix dactylifera, The Date Palm, Plate CX 225
Phoenix dactylifera, Date (red and yellow var.), Plate CXI 227
Acrocomia sp., Plate CXII 229
Cocos nucifera, Cocoanut Palm or "Niu," Plate CXIII 231
Cordia collococca, Clammy Cherry, Plate CXIV 233
Flacourtia cataphracta, Plate CXV 235
Atalantia buxifolia, Plate CXVI 237
Bumelia sp., Plate CXVII 239
Ochrosia elliptica, Plate CXVIII 241
Ananas sativus, Pineapple, Plate CXIX 243
Opuntia Tuna, Prickly Pear or "Panini," Plate CXX 245
Prosopis juliflora, Algaroba or "Kiawe," Plate CXXI 247
PREFACE
My original intention with regard to this work, was to publish it in a
series of three volumes; and to that end, the first volume was presented
to the public in 1906.
Since that time, however, I have deemed it advisable, for various
reasons, to incorporate all my data in one volume.
I desire to acknowledge my indebtedness for help in my researches, to
various works on Horticulture, and to many of my personal friends who
have given me valuable assistance.
I trust that this work will prove of some interest, as I believe that it
contains a fairly comprehensive list of both the indigenous and
naturalized Fruits of the Hawaiian Islands.
GERRIT PARMILE WILDER.
_G. P. W. Collection._ PLATE I
_Persea gratissima._
AVOCADO, PALTA OR ALLIGATOR PEAR.
Grown in the garden of Gerrit Wilder.
[Illustration: PLATE I.--_Avocado._]
_G. P. W. Collection._ PLATE II
_Persea gratissima._
AVOCADO.
This spreading evergreen tree is a native of Tropical America. In the
Hawaiian Islands, the first trees of its kind were said to have been
planted in Pauoa Valley, Oahu, by Don Marin. It attains a height of from
10 to 40 feet, and is adverse to drought. Its leaves are
elliptico-oblong, from 4 to 7 inches in length. The flowers are
greenish-yellow and downy. The fruit, which ripens from June until
November, is a round or pear-shaped drupe, covered with a thin, rather
tough skin, which is either green or purple in color. The flesh is
yellow, firm and marrow-like, and has a delicious nutty flavor. The
seed-cavity is generally large, containing one round or oblong seed,
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THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON
Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT.
_In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with
illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume._
NAPOLEON IN EXILE AT ELBA (1814-1815)
By NORWOOD YOUNG, Author of "The Growth of Napoleon," etc.; with a
chapter on the Iconography by A. M. Broadley.
_Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with frontispiece and 50
illustrations_ (from the collection of A. M. Broadley), _21/- net_.
NAPOLEON IN EXILE AT ST. HELENA (1815-1821)
By NORWOOD YOUNG, Author of "Napoleon in Exile at Elba," "The Story
of Rome," etc.
_In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with two
frontispieces and one hundred illustrations_ (from the collection
of A. M. Broadley), _32/- net_.
JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO
Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet by LOUIS GUIMBAUD;
translated by Lady THEODORA DAVIDSON.
_Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with many illustrations, 10/6 net._
THE NEW FRANCE
=Being a History from the Accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to
the Revolution of 1848, with Appendices.=
By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction
and notes, by R. S. GARNETT.
_In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with
a rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists,
24/- net._
[Illustration: MEDALS AWARDED TO SERGEANT-MAJOR, LATER QUARTERMASTER,
CHARLES WOODEN, 17TH LANCERS, ONE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
_Frontispiece_]
WAR MEDALS
AND THEIR HISTORY
BY
W. AUGUSTUS STEWARD
OFFICIER D'ACADÉMIE
AUTHOR OF "FROM THE BREASTS OF THE BRAVE," ETC.
_With 258 Illustrations
in Half-tone and Line_
LONDON
STANLEY PAUL & CO
31 ESSEX STREET STRAND W.C.
_First published in 1915_
FOREWORDS
If any excuse were needed for penning this, it is to be found in the
exceeding interest which was taken in my monograph "Badges of the
Brave." Indeed, many readers have requested me to deal, at greater
length, with a subject which not only opens up a great historical
vista and awakens national sentiment, but, incidentally, serves an
educational mission to those who collect and those who sell the
metallic records of many a hard-fought field, which, when collated,
form an imperishable record of our island story.
The War Medal is a comparatively modern institution, otherwise we might
have learned the names of the common folk who fought so tenaciously in
the old wars, as, for instance, the Welsh infantry and Irish soldiers
who, with the English bowmen, comprised the army of 30,000 which at
Crécy routed an army of 120,000; the followers of the Black Prince
who captured the impetuous King John at Poitiers, or the English
archers whose deadly volleys made such havoc at Agincourt, on that
fateful day in October nearly five hundred years ago; the brave seamen
who, under Lord Howard, Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, fought the
"Invincible Armada"; and those who, under Raleigh, vigorously pursued
the Spaniards on the high seas. We might have learned something of
the men who composed the Royal Scots and the 18th Royal Irish, and
helped to vindicate the reputation of the British soldier at Namur,
and covered themselves with glory at Blenheim; the gallant Coldstream
Guards who did such excellent service under Marlborough at Oudenarde
and Malplaquet, as well as the Gloucesters and Worcesters who fought
so well at Ramillies, or the Royal Welsh Fusiliers who served under
George II at Dettingen.
When, however, war medals were designed for distribution among
successful combatants, a means of decorating surviving soldiers and
sailors was established, and at the same time a sentimental and
substantial record of a man's labours for his country upon the field
of battle. So that, if the veterans of Drake's historic fleet, or
Marlborough's dauntless soldiers, were not possessed of badges to
distinguish them from the soldiers of industry, we, at any rate, may
hold in our hands the medals which were awarded to those who served
the immortal Nelson, and be proud to possess the medals which shone
upon the breasts of our great grandparents who defied the Conqueror
of Europe on that memorable Sunday, and made his sun to set upon the
battlefield of Waterloo.
Have you listened to the smart British veteran as he explains the
disposition of the troops on that historic occasion--how the French
cavalry "foamed itself away" in the face of those steady British
squares? How he makes the Welsh blood tingle as he records the glorious
deeds and death of Sir Thomas Picton, and the Scotsman's dance through
his veins as he explains how, with the cold steel of their terrible
bayonets, the Black Watch at Quatre Bras, and its second battalion, the
Perthshires, at Waterloo, waited for the charge of the cuirassiers; and
how Sergeant Ewart of the Scots Greys captured the Eagle of the 45th,
and then, with the rest of the Union Brigade (the English Royals and
the Irish Inniskillings), crashed through the ranks of the faltering
French, and scattered the veterans of Napoleon's army! Have you
seen how the mention of the Guards holding the Château of Hougomont
brightens the eye of the Englishman? Yes! Then just think what it is
to touch and possess the solid proofs of the deeds that those men did,
and to feel that you have in your possession the only recompense those
brave and daring men received from a grateful country.
=Historical Value.=--My collection of medals enables me to cover over a
hundred years of history; takes me back to the stirring times when men
yet met face to face in the Peninsula and at Waterloo; to the men who
founded our Indian Empire. It enables me to keep in touch with sailors
who fought in the battle of the Nile, at Trafalgar, and at Navarino,
that last of all naval battles in which we British took part--our
allies were then the French and Russians--until our battleships met
those of the Germans in the great war now waging. It reminds me of the
horsemen who made the world wonder ere, with deathless glory, they
passed their little day, and of that "thin red line" of Scots, whose
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RODMOOR
BOOKS BY
JOHN COWPER POWYS
THE WAR AND CULTURE, 1914 $ .60
VISIONS AND REVISIONS, ESSAYS, 1915 $2.00
WOOD AND STONE, A ROMANCE, 1915 $1.50
WOLF’S-BANE, RHYMES, 1916 $1.25
ONE HUNDRED BEST BOOKS WITH COMMENTARY, 1916 $ .75
SUSPENDED JUDGMENTS, ESSAYS, 1916 $2.00
BY THEODORE FRANCIS POWYS
THE SOLILOQUY OF A HERMIT, 1916 $1.00
PUBLISHED BY G. ARNOLD SHAW
GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL, NEW YORK
RODMOOR
A ROMANCE
JOHN COWPER POWYS
Author of “Wood and Stone,” etc.
_O they rade on, and farther on,_
_And they waded rivers abune the knee,_
_And they saw neither sun nor moon_
_But they heard the roaring of the sea._
ANONYMOUS.
[Illustration]
1916
G. ARNOLD SHAW
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1916
BY G. ARNOLD SHAW
COPYRIGHT, IN GREAT BRITAIN
AND THE COLONIES
VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
DEDICATED
TO THE SPIRIT OF
EMILY BRONTE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE | 1,372.157906 |
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A Plain Introduction to the Criticism of the New Testament
For the Use of Biblical Students
By The Late
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
M.A., D.C.L., LL.D.
Prebendary of Exeter, Vicar of Hendon
Fourth Edition, Edited by
The Rev. Edward Miller, M.A.
Formerly Fellow and Tutor of New College, Oxford
Vol. I.
George Bell & Sons, York Street, Covent Garden
Londo, New York, and Cambridge
1894
CONTENTS
Preface To Fourth Edition.
Description Of The Contents Of The Lithographed Plates.
Addenda Et Corrigenda.
Chapter I. Preliminary Considerations.
Chapter II. General Character Of The Greek Manuscripts Of The New
Testament.
Chapter III. Divisions Of The Text, And Other Particulars.
Appendix To Chapter III. Synaxarion And Eclogadion Of The Gospels And
Apostolic Writings Daily Throughout The Year.
Chapter IV. The Larger Uncial Manuscripts Of The Greek Testament.
Chapter V. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Gospels.
Chapter VI. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles, Of St.
Paul's Epistles, And Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter VII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part I.
Chapter VIII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part II.
Chapter IX. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part III.
Chapter X. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles.
Chapter XI. Cursive Manuscripts Of St. Paul's Epistles.
Chapter XII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter XIII. Evangelistaries, Or Manuscript Service-Books Of The Gospels.
Chapter XIV. Lectionaries Containing The Apostolos Or Praxapostolos.
Appendix A. Chief Authorities.
Appendix B. On Facsimiles.
Appendix C. On Dating By Indiction.
Appendix D. On The {~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.
Appendix E. Table Of Differences Between The Fourth Edition Of Dr.
Scrivener's Plain Introduction And Dr. Gregory's Prolegomena.
Index I. Of Greek Manuscripts.
Index II. Of Writers, Past Owners, And Collators Of Mss.
Footnotes
[Illustration.]
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
In templo Dei offert unusquisque quod potest: alii aurum, argentum, et
lapides pretiosos: alii byssum et purpuram et coccum offerunt et
hyacinthum. Nobiscum bene agitur, si obtulerimus pelles et caprarum pilos.
Et tamen Apostolus contemtibiliora nostra magis necessaria judicat.
HIERONYMI _Prologus Galeatus_.
Dedication
[In The Third Edition]
_To His Grace_
_Edward, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury_.
MY LORD ARCHBISHOP,
Nearly forty years ago, under encouragement from your venerated
predecessor Archbishop Howley, and with the friendly help of his Librarian
Dr. Maitland, I entered upon the work of collating manuscripts of the
Greek New Testament by examining the copies brought from the East by
Professor Carlyle, and purchased for the Lambeth Library in 1805. I was
soon called away from this employment--{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI AND YPOGEGRAMMENI~}--to less
congenial duties in that remote county, wherein long after it was your
Grace's happy privilege to refresh the spirits of Churchmen and
Churchwomen, by giving them pious work to do, and an example in the doing
of it. What I have since been able to accomplish in the pursuits of sacred
criticism, although very much less than I once anticipated, has proved, I
would fain hope, not without its use to those who love Holy Scripture, and
the studies which help to the understanding of the same.
Among the scholars whose sympathy cheered and aided my Biblical labours
from time to time, I have had the honour of including your Grace; yet it
would be at once unseemly and fallacious to assume from that circumstance,
that the principles of textual criticism which I have consistently
advocated have approved themselves to your judgement. All that I can look
for or desire in this respect is that I may seem to you to have stated my
case fairly and temperately, in earnest controversy with opponents far my
superiors in learning and dialectic power, and for whom, in spite of
literary differences, I entertain deep respect and true regard.
My Lord, you have been called by Divine Providence to the first place in
our Communion, and have entered upon your great office attended by the
applauses, the hopeful wishes, and the hearty prayers of the whole Church.
May it please God to endow you richly with the Christian gifts as well of
wisdom as of courage: for indeed the highest minister of the Church of
England, no less than the humblest, will need courage in the coming time,
now that faith is waxing cold and adversaries are many.
I am, my Lord Archbishop,
Your obliged and faithful servant,
F. H. A. Scrivener.
HENDON VICARAGE,
_Whitsuntide_, 1883.
PREFACE TO FOURTH EDITION.
At the time of the lamented death of Dr. Scrivener a new edition of his
standard work was called for, and it was supposed that the great Master of
Textual Criticism had himself made sufficient corrections and additions
for the purpose in the margin of his copy. When the publishers committed
to me the task of preparation, I was fully aware of the absolute necessity
of going far beyond the materials placed at my disposal, if the book were
to be really useful as being abreast of the very great progress
accomplished in the last ten years. But it was not till I had laboured
with absolute loyalty for some months that I discovered from my own
observation, and from the advice of some of the first textual critics, how
much alteration must at once be made.
Dr. Scrivener evidently prepared the Third Edition under great
disadvantage. He had a parish of more than 5,500 inhabitants upon his
hands, with the necessity of making provision for increase in the
population. The result was that after adding 125 pages to his book he had
an attack of paralysis, and so it is not surprising that his work was not
wholly conducted upon the high level of his previous publications. The
book has also laboured under another and greater disadvantage of too
rapid, though unavoidable, growth. The 506 pages of the First Edition have
been successively expanded into 626 pages in the Second, 751 in the Third,
and 874 in the Fourth; while the framework originally adopted, consisting
only of nine chapters, was manifestly inadequate to the mass of material
ultimately gathered. It has therefore been found necessary, as the work
proceeded, to do violence, amidst much delicate embarrassment, to feelings
of loyalty to the author forbidding alteration. The chief changes that
have been made are as follows:--
The first intention of keeping the materials within the compass of one
volume has been abandoned, and it has been divided into two volumes, with
an increase of chapters in each.
Instead of 2,094 manuscripts, as reckoned in the third edition under the
six classes, no less than 3,791 have been recorded in this edition, being
an increase of 236 beyond the 3,555 of Dr. Gregory, without counting the
numerous vacant places which have been filled up.
Most of the accounts of ancient versions have been rewritten by
distinguished scholars, who are leaders in their several departments.
The early part of Volume I has been enriched from the admirable book on
"Greek and Latin Palaeography," by Mr. E. Maunde Thompson, who with great
kindness placed the proof-sheets at my disposal before publication.
Changes have been made in the headlines, the indexes, and in the printing,
and sometimes in the arrangement, which will, I trust, enable the reader
to find his way more easily about the treatise.
And many corrections suggested by eminent scholars have been introduced in
different places all through the work.
A most pleasing duty now is to tender my best thanks to the Right Reverend
the Lord Bishop of Salisbury and the Rev. H. J. White, M.A., for the
rewriting of the chapter on Latin Versions by the latter under Dr. John
Wordsworth's supervision, with help from M. Samuel Berger; to the Rev. G.
H. Gwilliam, B.D., Fellow of Hertford College, now editing the Peshitto
for the University of Oxford, for the improvement of the passages upon the
Peshitto and the Curetonian; the Rev. H. Deane, B.D., for additions to the
treatment of the Harkleian; and the Rev. Dr. Walker, Principal of St.
John's Hall, Highbury, for the results of a collation of the Peshitto and
Curetonian; to the Rev. A. C. Headlam, M.A., Fellow of All Souls College,
for a revision of the long chapter upon Egyptian Versions; to F. C.
Conybeare, Esq., M.A., late Fellow of University College, for rewriting
the sections on the Armenian and Georgian Versions; to Professor
Margoliouth, M.A., Fellow of New College, for rewriting the sections on
the Arabic and Ethiopic Versions; to the Rev. Ll. J. M. Bebb, M.A., Fellow
of Brasenose College, for rewriting the section upon the Slavonic Version;
to Dr. James W. Bright, Assistant-Professor in the Johns Hopkins
University, for rewriting the section on the Anglo-Saxon Version, through
Mr. White's kind offices; to E. Maunde Thompson, Esq., D.C.L., LL.D.,
F.S.A., &c., for kindness already mentioned, and other help, and to G. F.
Warner, Esq., M.A., of the Manuscript Department of the British Museum,
for correction of some of the notices of cursive MSS. belonging to the
Museum, and for other assistance; to J. Rendel Harris, Esq., M.A., Fellow
of Clare College and Reader in Palaeology in the University of Cambridge,
for much help of a varied nature; to Professor Isaac H. Hall, Ph.D., of
New York City, for sending and placing at my disposal many of his
publications; to the lamented Professor Bensly, for writing me a letter
upon the Syriac Versions; to the Rev. Nicholas Pocock, M.A., of Clifton,
for some results of a collation of F and G of St. Paul; to Professor
Bernard, D.D., Trinity College, Dublin, for a paper of suggestions; to the
Rev. Walter Slater, M.A., for preparing Index II in Vol. I; and to several
other kind friends, for assistance of various kinds freely given. The
generosity of scholars in communicating out of their stores of learning is
a most pleasing feature in the study of the present day. Whatever may be
my own shortcomings--and I fear that they have been enhanced by limitations
of time and space, and through the effects of ill-health and sorrow--the
contributions enumerated cannot but render the present edition of Dr.
Scrivener's great work eminently useful to students.
Edward Miller.
9, BRADMORE ROAD, OXFORD,
_January 17, 1894_.
[Transcriber's Note: This book contains much Greek text, which will not be
well-rendered in plain text versions of this E-book. Also, there is much
use of Greek characters with a vertical bar across the tops of the letters
to indicate abbreviations; because the coding system used in this e-book
does not have such an "overline", they are rendered here with underlines.]
DESCRIPTION OF THE CONTENTS OF THE LITHOGRAPHED PLATES(1).
[Transcriber's Note: The plates have been all placed in this section so
that the extended comments for each can be with the plates themselves.]
Plate I
[Illustration.]
Plate I.
1. (1) Alphabet from the Rosetta Stone [B.C. 196], a specimen of
capitals.
2. (2) Alphabet from Cod. Sinaiticus, specimen of uncials.
3. (3) Alphabet from Cod. Alexandrinus, specimen of uncials.
Plate II
[Illustration.]
Plate II.
1. (4) Alphabet from the Cotton Fragment (Evan. N) and Titus C. xv
[vi],
2. (5) And from Cod. Nitriensis (Evan. R, Brit. Mus. Add. 17,211).
Plate III
[Illustration.]
Plate II.
1. (6) Alphabet from Cod. Dublinensis (Evan. Z).
2. (7) From Brit. Mus. Harl. 5598 (Evst. 150), [A.D. 995].
3. (8) From Brit. Mus. Burney 19 (Evan. 569). Note that above
_psi_ in 2 stands the cross-like form of that letter as found in
Apoc., B. [viii].
Plate IV
[Illustration.]
Plate IV.
1. (9) Extract from Hyperides' Oration for Lycophron, col. 15, 1.
23, &c. ({~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER UPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}, ed. Babington, 1853). Dating between B.C.
100 to A.D. 100, on Egyptian papyrus, in a cursive or running
hand. {~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} >. _See_ pp. 44,
51.
2. (10) Extract from Philodemus {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} (_Herculanensium
voluminum quae supersunt_, fol., Tom. 3, Col. xx. ll. 6-15). _See_
pp. 30, 33. {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}
| {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}.
3. (11a) Cod. Friderico-August. [iv], 2 Sam. vii. 10, 11,
Septuagint: {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER XI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} |
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} | _{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}_ {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}|{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}
{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} | {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER XI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER I | 1,372.256905 |
2023-11-16 18:39:56.3373830 | 126 | 26 |
Produced by Eve Sobol
MADAME DE MAUVES
Byhenry James
I
The view from the terrace at Saint-Germain-en-Laye is immense and
famous. Paris lies spread before you in dusky vastness, domed and
fortified, glittering here and there through her light vapours and
girdled with her silver Seine. Behind you is a park of stately symmetry,
and behind that a forest where you may lounge through turfy avenues and
light-chequered glades and quite forget that you are within half an
hour of | 1,372.357423 |
2023-11-16 18:39:56.3405400 | 7,416 | 67 |
Produced by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
A BUTTERFLY ON THE WHEEL
_A Novel_
By C. RANGER GULL
_Author of "A Woman in the Case," etc._
Founded on the successful play by E. G. Hemmerde, K. C.,
M. P., and Francis Neilson, M. P.
_WITH PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE PLAY_
NEW YORK
WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY
1912
Copyrighted 1912, by
WILLIAM RICKEY & COMPANY
PRESS OF WILLIAM G. HEWITT, 61-67 NAVY ST., BROOKLYN, N. Y.
[Illustration: "Forgive me, George," she sobbed, "forgive me."]
ORIGINAL PROGRAM OF A BUTTERFLY ON THE WHEEL
Produced at the 39th Street Theatre, beginning Tuesday Evening, January
9th, 1912
MR. LEWIS WALLER
Has the Honor to Submit
A Butterfly on the Wheel
By Edward G. Hemmerde, K. C., and Francis Neilson, M. P.
Produced under the personal supervision of Lewis Waller
The Rt. Hon. George Admaston, M. P. Eille Norwood
Roderick Collingwood Charles Quartermaine
Lord Ellerdine Evelyn Beerbohm
Sir John Burroughes, President of the
Divorce Court, Herbert Budd
Sir Robert Fyffe, K. C., M. P., Admaston's
leading counsel, Sidney Valentine
Gervaise McArthur, K. C., Collingwood's
leading counsel, Lewis Broughton
Stuart Menzies, K. C., Collingwood's
leading counsel, Denis Cleugh
Jacques, waiter at the Hotel des Tuileries Walter Cluxton
Jean DuBois, detective John Wilmer
Foreman of the jury James Stuart
Footman Frank Dossert
Lady Attwill Olive Temple
Pauline, Miss Admaston's maid Loretta Wells
Peggy, George Admaston's wife Madge Titheradge
General Manager Victor Lewis
Business Manager John Wilmer
Stage Manager Lewis Broughton
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Forgive me, George," she sobbed, "forgive me"
"We all got on the wrong train and we all stayed the night at this
hotel"
"Don't you see, man, if you call in the court to break her wings, you'll
only drive her to me!"
"He caught her in his arms--in his strong arms"
PREFACE
Of all the English plays that have come to this country none has created
more of a sensation than "A BUTTERFLY ON THE WHEEL," and without
question will be received the same by the public over the entire country
as it has been received in New York. The play opened at the Thirty-ninth
Street Theatre on Tuesday evening, January 9th, and has played to
"standing room only" at every performance since.
The story in book form has been done by C. Ranger Gull (pen name), a
writer who has already gained a big reputation as an author both in
America and England, and the success of "A BUTTERFLY ON THE WHEEL" goes
without saying.
THE PUBLISHER.
A BUTTERFLY ON THE WHEEL
CHAPTER I
It was shortly after midnight in the great Hotel des Tuileries at Paris.
Beyond the facade of the hotel the gardens of the Tuileries were
sleeping in the warm night. To the left the Louvre etched itself in
solid black against the sky, and all up and down the Rue de Rivoli
carriages and automobiles were still moving.
But in the great thoroughfare the tide of vehicles and foot passengers
was perceptibly thinning. Paris is a midnight city, it is true, and at
this hour the heights of Montmartre were thronged with pleasure-seekers,
dancing and supping till the pale dawn should come with its message of
purity and reproach.
But down in the Rue de Rivoli even the great hotels were beginning to
prepare for sleep.
One enters the Hotel des Tuileries, as every one knows, through the
revolving doors, passes into the entresol, and then into the huge
glass-domed lounge with its comfortable fauteuils, its big settee, its
little tables covered with beaten copper, and its great palms, which
seem as if they had been cunningly enamelled jade-green by some
jeweller.
The lounge was now almost empty of people, though the shaded electric
light threw a topaz-coloured radiance over everything.
In one corner--just where the big marble stair-case springs upwards to
the gilded gallery--two men in evening dress were sitting together.
They were obviously English, tall, thin, bronzed men, as obviously in
the service. As a matter of fact, one was Colonel Adams, attached to the
Viceroy's staff in India, the other a civilian's secretary--Henry
Passhe.
They were both smoking briar pipes--delighted that the lateness of the
hour allowed them to do so in the lounge; and before each man was a long
glass full of crushed ice and some effervescing water innocent of
whisky.
A man in black clothes, obviously a valet, came up to Colonel Adams.
"I've put everything ready in your room, sir," he said. "Is there
anything else?"
"No, there is nothing else, Snell," the soldier answered. "You can go to
bed now."
The man was moving away when Adams called him back.
"Oh, by the way, Snell, did you find out what I asked you? It is Mrs.
Admaston who is staying here, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, she is here with her maid, and----"
"Well?"
The man seemed to hesitate slightly, but at length he spoke: "Mr.
Roderick Collingwood is here too, sir."
"Is he, by Jove!" Adams said, more to his friend than to his servant.
"Very well, Snell. Good night."
The valet withdrew, and Colonel Adams puffed vigorously at his pipe for
a minute or two.
"_The_--the Mrs. Admaston?" the civilian asked.
Colonel Adams nodded. "The great, little Peggy herself," he said; "none
other. Surely you've met her, Passhe?"
"I was introduced to her some months ago at a Foreign Office reception,"
the younger man answered; "but I really can't say that I know her. I've
never been to any of the Admastons' parties. In fact, my dear Adams, I
am a little bit out of things in town now. Ask me anything about any of
the Indian set and I can tell you, but as far as society goes in London
I am a back number. I won't say, though, that I haven't heard this and
that about the Admastons. One can't go anywhere without hearing their
names. However, I know nothing of the rights or wrongs of the story--if
story there is at all. But certainly every one has heard this man
Collingwood's name mentioned in connection with that of Mrs. Admaston.
Who was she, any way? You know everything about everybody. Tell me all
about them."
Colonel Adams sipped his Perrier quietly, and his brown, lean face
became unusually meditative.
"Aren't you sleepy?" he said.
"Can't sleep, confound it!" Passhe replied. "Liver. Have lunch, take an
afternoon nap, and then can't get to sleep at night for the Lord knows
how long."
"I know," Adams said sympathetically. "Liver is the very devil. That's
the worst of India. Now, there is nothing, my dear chap, that I should
enjoy more at this moment than a two-finger peg of whisky. Can I take
it? Damn it, no! I should have heartburn for hours--that's India! But
since you are not sleepy, and I am sure I'm not, I will tell you about
the Admastons."
The colonel's pipe had gone out. He relit it, pressed down the ashes
with the head of a little silver pencil-case which he took from his
waistcoat pocket, sent out a cloud of fragrant blue-grey smoke, leant
back in his arm-chair, and began.
"Admaston," Colonel Adams began, "is one of the most hard-working
Johnnies of the day. He's as rich as what-d'you-call-him, of course, but
he hasn't used his wealth to make his position in Parliament or to get
him his place in the Cabinet. He's done it by sheer ability, by Jove!
He's of an old family, but there haven't been any members of it in big
political positions to help him over the heads of those who have to
shift for themselves.
"He was at Harrow with me, though considerably my junior, and I remember
he played cricket with an energy that deserved a much higher batting
average than he got. He wasn't a studious youth by any means, though he
learnt enough to know his way about. He was still at school and I had
just passed into Sandhurst when his father died and left him a huge
fortune. Then he went to Oxford--New College it may have been, or
possibly the House. I don't think he did anything much at Oxford. I'm
told by men who were up with him that the sense of the enormous
responsibility which fell on him after his father's death, and the
anxieties of having to manage a great estate and a huge business, spoilt
him for the schools and rather put him off cricket. He might have got
into the Eleven, but he didn't care enough about it to try hard."
"A bit phlegmatic in temperament?" Passhe asked.
"That's it," replied Colonel Adams. "Nothing seemed to move him much. If
ever a man was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, George Admaston
was the chap. But I don't believe he cared particularly whether his
spoon was silver or pewter, by Jove! Just a plain fellow of frugal
habits. I am told that when he met the deputation from the Northern
Division of Lancashire, which went up to town to ask him to contest that
constituency, after the interview one of the local Johnnies said, 'Mr.
Admaston was so nice that he might be nobody.' At anyrate, George has
found his _metier_ in politics. Three years in opposition gave him a
great reputation as a quick and ready debater. He is a great asset to
his party now, and at by-elections he's the night-before-the-poll man."
"But what about his wife?" said the civilian.
"I'm coming to that, Henry," Adams answered. "And if I am a bit
long-winded you've jolly well brought it on yourself. It's like this.
George's father was the head of Admaston, Grainger & Co., the big City
financiers. Old Grainger had a daughter, much younger than George
Admaston. Peggy Grainger was only a tiny little girl when Admaston's
father died. I'm told that the old men when they were together would
chaff each other about their children. Old Grainger used to say that
they must certainly marry--keep the firm together, and so on, don't you
know. In fact, the last letter that George ever got from his father
referred to old Grainger's notion that George should marry Peggy. Now,
Peggy's mother was a Frenchwoman, a Mlle. Guillou, and the girl was
educated in France. George hadn't been long in the Cabinet when old
Grainger brought Peggy to London. She was about nineteen then, and the
prettiest, most flirtatious, whimsical little butterfly of a thing that
you could possibly imagine. Well, her father established Peggy in a big
house in St. James's--huge retinue of servants and so forth. All London
began to talk about the rich Miss Grainger. The girl spent just what she
liked--her father encouraged her to do it; there was really nothing else
to be done with the money. But whenever George came to the house--and he
saw a lot of the Graingers the first year when Peggy came to London--the
old boy was always hinting to him that he ought to marry Peggy.
"One evening Admaston was called off the Treasury Bench in the House to
speak at the telephone. He thought it was Peggy, but it wasn't. It was
her old maid, Pauline, who is here with her in this hotel to-night, and
who has looked after her all her life nearly. Pauline said that old
Grainger had just passed in his cheques, by Jove! He was a big fleshy
fellow--always did himself top hole. He'd made a big dinner, laughed at
a joke like anything with his daughter, had a stroke, and was cooling
by ten o'clock."
"And then?" Henry Passhe asked.
"Well, of course, Peggy was left quite alone. There were no relatives.
In fact, there was nobody except this old nurse, Pauline, a woman of
about forty. Mrs. Grainger had been a chronic invalid, and she had left
the girl in charge of the 'bonne.' Old Grainger often used to say that
Pauline was more of a mother to Peggy than even his wife had been, and
after his death Peggy relied upon the woman for almost everything. She's
been with her ever since, and is more like a mother to her still than a
servant. Pauline, in fact, took charge of the household, looked after
the servants in every way, and controlled everything. It was a curious
_menage_.
"One day Peggy and Admaston met at a country house for a week-end party.
Nobody knows exactly how it happened, but at anyrate George proposed and
Peggy accepted him. I remember the fuss they made about it in the
society papers--fulsome, sickenin' sort of hog-wash they wrote. 'Love at
first sight,' and all that sort of thing. 'Little Peggy was to be the
wife of a Prime Minister'--'they adored each other,' etc. But I'll eat
my hand if they did anything of the kind. They simply remembered the
wishes of their fathers and saw it was best to consolidate their huge
commercial interests. I daresay Peggy felt very lonely and George felt
very sorry for her. At anyrate, the engagement was announced.
"George had an aunt--has her still, I suppose--the rich Miss Admaston, a
damned old cat who gives thousands to foreign missions. I've met some of
the missionaries of her particular gospel-shop in India, and a nice lot
of touts they are too. Well, the old cat was fearfully cut up by the
news of the engagement. She thought Peggy was far too French and
frivolous for George, and, of course, Peggy has always been rather
go-ahead. For my part, I don't care what they are saying now, I don't
think there is an ounce of vice in the girl.
"It's gettin' rather late, Henry, and I'm afraid I'm boring you?"
"Not a bit; go on, do," the secretary answered.
"Very well. George's engagement to Peggy seriously affected the lives of
two people who are deucedly well known in society. One of them was Lady
Attwill, widow of 'Clipper' Attwill, who scuppered his yacht and himself
too somewhere in the Mediterranean--a thorough bad hat, Clipper was.
Lady Attwill had been setting her cap at George for a long time. Every
one knew it but George. It was a regular joke of one season. She
couldn't get hold of him, though, despite everything she could do.
George hadn't an idea of what the woman wanted. He was really fond of
her. He looked on her as a very dear friend, and he took all her
kindnesses and so forth just in that light, with a calm complacency that
must have sent her raving at times. Of course, all Lady Attwill's
friends did their very best to bring the two together upon every
possible occasion; and when George steered clear and proposed to Peggy,
every one said the poor, dear chap was one of the craftiest politicians
on the Front Bench. And all the time, Henry, I'll lay you what you like
that Admaston was as innocent as a canary.
"There were two people, I said, who were seriously affected by George's
engagement. Well, the other was Roderick Collingwood, who's staying in
the hotel now, as Snell has just told us.
"Colling--everybody calls him Colling--knew Peggy's governor. He's a
bally millionaire also, and he used to have a good many dealings with
the firm. Collingwood travels about a great deal--always has done,--and
he first met Peggy when she was a flapper of fifteen at old Grainger's
place near Chantilly--old Grainger used to run horses a lot in France.
"Collingwood has always been an extraordinary sort of chap; he was then,
it appears. Like any other young man of great wealth, he found
everything done for him, anything he liked ready to his hand, and
simply let himself go. When Peggy's father died, Colling was going it
hell-for-leather--just about as fast as they're made. Of course, Peggy
knew nothing of the real facts. But she heard gossip and hints, and one
night she taxed him with the way he was living, referring specially to
one or two of his more recent escapades. He admitted there was some
truth in what she said, and, if what they say is true, made her some
sort of a promise of reformation. At anyrate, he pulled up; there's no
doubt of that.
"Afterwards the two met fairly regularly, and I was staying at Lord
Ellerdine's place in Yorkshire when I believe Collingwood told Peggy of
the good influence she had been, and showed himself as a reformed rake,
by Jove! I think there's no doubt at all that he would have proposed to
the girl if George Admaston had not forestalled him. They say
Collingwood was frightfully cut up. At anyrate, he wasn't in England
when the marriage took place.
"It was a great wedding. Everybody who was anybody was there, only
excepting Collingwood and Lady Attwill. In their case, I remember that
people said they were falling back on their own reserves; but that was
pure scandal, of course. When Collingwood was in Spain, Lady Attwill
was in Switzerland. As a matter of fact, they were both great friends;
and no doubt when Clipper went down in his yacht and left Lady Attwill
very badly off, Collingwood was quite generous to her.
"Well, to cut a long story short--I see it's nearly one
o'clock,--Admaston and his wife spent their honeymoon in Italy--Rome, I
think it was, or Florence. Shortly after their return George introduced
his long and complicated bill on National Roads. It had over a hundred
clauses. Ill-natured people said that he married in order to have an
excuse to get a holiday in which to draft his measure. At anyrate, after
the introduction of the bill George became the absolute centre of the
political strife of the day. He worked harder than ever. His party had
been in office for three years, and their declining favour urged him on
to rouse his followers in the House and in the country to tackle some
necessary reforms before the ensuing General Election. In fact, for
months after his marriage Admaston seemed to live for his Department and
the Front Bench. He was hardly ever seen with Peggy.
"On her part, Peggy went everywhere, and soon the gossips had it that
Admaston was disappointed, while his wife lived a really butterfly life.
"Mrs. Admaston's conduct certainly puzzled the gossips. No one could say
with any sort of certainty that she did anything wrong. Even her best
friends--generally the first persons to give one away--only laughed when
they were questioned, and said, 'It's only Peggy.' She and Roderick
Collingwood met again and again, renewing their old friendship. After
the marriage it was said that Collingwood had a very bad time. There was
a broad wicked streak in him, and everybody assumed that he had gone
back to his old fast living. Well, at anyrate, Peggy took him up again.
She was the kind that either had to be mothered or have someone she
could mother herself. George, apparently, wasn't very much about, and so
she started once more in the effort to exert a benign influence over an
erratic chap like Collingwood. Of course, people said on all sides that
it was a very dangerous game to play.
"Old-fashioned people shook their heads and fore-told all sorts of
trouble for the little butterfly that fluttered so near to the flame
which every one supposed was burning perpetually in Collingwood's heart.
"About this time Lady Attwill returned to England and sought out George
Admaston. What she did quite upset the calculations of the people who
talk. She became very attentive to George, and yet, at the same time,
managed to get about a good bit with Peggy. In fact, she seemed in a
sort of way to console Admaston and to be encouraging his wife. Society
has been perplexed by the whole business for a considerable time. No one
knows what to make of the position. They all met, for instance, at
Ellerdine's for the shooting. Admaston ran down for a week-end only.
Then during the late winter, after a long autumn session, rumours flew
thick and fast, and everybody seemed to be waiting for the storm to
break. Why there should be a storm nobody really seemed to know.
Collingwood and Peggy have been talked about to the exclusion of almost
every other subject. They're talked about now. London and the Faubourg
Saint Honore is buzzing with them. And here, my dear Passhe, you and I
away up at the Tuileries for a merry week of theatres in Paris, and we
find Peggy staying here and Collingwood, too, by Jove!--what! what! Damn
it, Passhe, you're asleep!"
A long-drawn and not entirely unmelodious snore proclaimed that Colonel
Adams's long recital had somewhat wearied the civilian, who was not "in
society."
CHAPTER II
Mrs. Admaston's sitting-room at the Hotel des Tuileries was a large and
beautiful apartment, one of the best in the hotel. Save for the long
French windows, which were now, at midnight, covered with curtains of
green tussore silk, there was nothing distinctively foreign about the
room. The best French hotels nowadays have all adopted English and
American standards of comfort. The stove, the uncarpeted and slippery
parquet floor, the impossible chairs, and a ceiling painted to resemble
a nightmare of a fruiterer's shop, are all things of the past.
Electric lights in softly shaded globes threw a pleasant yellow radiance
over everything. A fire of cedarwood logs glowed on the tiled hearth,
and a great bunch of lilac stood in a copper bowl upon a small mahogany
table which was placed between two doors which faced the one leading to
Mrs. Admaston's bedroom.
Some tall silver candlesticks stood upon the Broadwood piano; and there
were others, in which the candles were not lit, upon brackets on either
side of the telephone.
It was just upon midnight when the door of Mrs. Admaston's bedroom
opened and her confidential maid and companion came into the room.
Pauline Toche was a woman of some forty years of age. Her black hair
streaked with grey was drawn tightly back from her forehead. The face, a
little hard and watchful perhaps, nevertheless showed signs of marked
intelligence. The eyes had something of the ferocity but also the
fidelity of a well-trained watch-dog. She was dressed unassumingly
enough in black, and she wore an apron also of some black material.
Such a face and figure may be seen a dozen times in any Breton village,
and more than once her friends had said to Mrs. Admaston that Pauline
seemed to require the coif of her country--the snowy white and goffered
_col_ which is worn over the shoulders; a pair of sabots even!
The maid was a Breton woman, a daughter of one of the millers of
Pont-Aven, and preserved still all the characteristics of that hardy
Celtic race.
As the maid entered the sitting-room there was a knock at the door, and
in response to her "Entrez" a waiter came into the room. He was an
odd-looking person with brilliant red hair--rather a rare thing in
France, but cropped close to his head in the French manner, so that it
seemed to be almost squirting out of his scalp. The man, with his
napkin over his arm, his short Eton jacket, and boots soled with list,
was dressed just like any other waiter in the hotel, but somehow or
other there was something unusual in his aspect.
He carried a tray, and went up to a small round table, gleaming with
cut-glass and silver, on which supper had been laid.
"Are you quite sure there is no train from Chalons before morning?"
Pauline asked the man in French.
"No train before five o'clock, mademoiselle," the man replied. "The last
fast train reaches Paris at eight-forty."
The Breton woman nodded.
"Thank you," she said, gazing at him rather keenly; and then
suddenly--"You're not French, are you?"
With great precision, almost as if he was practising something learnt by
rote and not entirely natural to him, the waiter clicked his heels
together, spread out the palms of his hands, and bowed.
"Mais oui, mademoiselle," he said.
Pauline shook her head slightly.
"You do not deceive me," she said. "There is something about you--you
_are_ a Frenchman?"
The waiter had been piling plates up on a tray. He put the tray down on
the table, smiled with a total change of manner, and answered her.
"No," he said with a grin.
"I knew it," Pauline said. "Is it then that you are Irish, M. Jacques?"
"Most certainly not," replied the waiter.
"I figure to myself that you are English?"
Jacques came up still closer to the maid, his voice dropped, and his
manner became confidential. "Not even quite English, mademoiselle," he
said. "I'm a Scotsman. I was born at Ecclefechan."
"Mon Dieu!" said Pauline; "Eccle----! What a name of barbarity! I did
not know that there were such names. La! la! But your name, monsieur,
your name--Jacques?"
"Mademoiselle speaks English?"
"Quite well," Pauline replied.
"Well, you see, miss, I've been here a long time, and I am a great
favourite with the English visitors. It would never do to tell them that
I'm a Scotsman, and that my real name is Jock. You see, they like to
practise their French on me. The management always send me to wait upon
English visitors. Of course, I can understand what they mean, and it
flatters them to think that they're really speaking French. I heard an
old lady the other day talking to her daughter. 'My dear,' she said,
'those extra French lessons at the High School have not been wasted.
That nice, attentive French waiter understands you perfectly'; and so I
did of course, miss, though when she wanted the mussels she said,
'Esker voos avvy des moulins?' And when she wanted the pastry she
called it 'tapisserie' instead of 'patisserie.' So you see my French
name is one of my great assets, though you, mademoiselle, saw through me
very easily." Here the waiter once more relapsed into his best French
manner and made a flourishing little bow. "Do you stay long in Paris,
mademoiselle?" he asked, going back to the table and beginning to remove
the dishes.
"I can't say," Pauline replied. "As a matter of fact, we are here quite
by accident. We are really going to Switzerland."
"The wrong train?" inquired the waiter.
"Yes, that was it," Pauline answered. "We took the wrong train, and our
party got divided somewhere."
"What bad luck!" Jacques answered. Then he gave a rather searching
glance at Pauline. "But surely M. Collingwood knows the Continent?" he
asked.
The maid gave an almost imperceptible start, and went up to the
fireplace, where she began to pull about the flowers in one of the
vases. "Oh yes, I think so," she answered, in a voice which strove to
appear quite indifferent to the question.
"Well, I can tell you," the waiter went on--"I can tell you that M.
Collingwood knows the Continent as well as a Cook's agent. He's always
travelling about. You can see his name in the Riviera lists, in the
Paris _Daily Mail_ or the _New York Herald_. He's at Nice for the races.
He's at Monte Carlo for the pigeon-shooting. He's at Marienbad for a
cure, or climbing mountains in the Bernese Oberland. He is everywhere,
is M. Collingwood. He was staying here last year, for instance."
The maid turned slowly from the fire and looked towards the
supper-table.
"Yes, yes?" she said with some eagerness. "He is here often? At this
hotel?"
"I can remember him being here three times," the man replied. And there
was something rather furtive in his look, something which seemed to
speak of a suppressed curiosity and watchfulness. Many waiters in smart
hotels, both in London and in Paris, have this look--the veritable
expression of Paul Pry. "Have you been long with Mr. and Mrs. Admaston?"
"I've been many years with madame," Pauline replied. And then, speaking
rather suddenly, "You seem to have a very good memory, Mr. Jock
Jacques."
"It is necessary," the man answered, with all the dryness of a Scotsman.
"And yet sometimes," Pauline replied, "it is necessary not to have a
good memory."
"Perhaps," the waiter answered. "Certainly sometimes discretion is the
better part of recollection," giving her a look of great slyness as he
spoke.
Pauline shrugged her shoulders. There was a note of veiled contempt in
her voice. "To forget easily is sometimes very convenient, n'est-ce
pas?" she said.
"When it is worth more than a good memory," he answered.
"Doubtless you are very well off, Mr. Jock," Pauline continued, and this
time the sneer in her voice was hardly veiled.
At this the waiter began brushing the crumbs from the table very
vigorously. "I'm only a poor waiter," he said.
"Then surely that must be your own fault? There ought to be many
opportunities in a hotel of this sort of making a good use of a
convenient memory?"
"Well, yes, you're right there," came from the man, with a rather
ill-favoured leer. "But, you see, I am too sentimental for that."
Pauline laughed in answer, and not very pleasantly. "Don't tell me," she
said. "I've been in Scotland for the shooting of the grouse. There is no
Scotsman too sentimental to make money. What part of Scotland did you
say you came from? La! la! la! And at your age, too!"
"On the contrary, the older I grow the more sentimental I become."
Pauline shook her head. "Mon Dieu!" she said; "every one knows that
sentiment ends at forty."
The waiter, a quick-witted rogue enough, seemed to be thoroughly
enjoying this midnight conversation. He stood with one arm akimbo, the
other resting on the table, and grinned like a vulgar Mephistopheles.
"If sentiment ends at forty," he said, "you, mademoiselle, will suffer
from it for a long time to come."
"Ma foi, no! No suffering for me," Pauline replied. "I'm a very
practical person. It would take a great deal to make me sentimental."
"I wonder how much?" the man answered. "A nice little hotel with a good
trade, say?"
Pauline shrugged her shoulders. "No, that would mean work. I am used to
seeing a life of sentiment without work."
The waiter once more began to clear the table. "It is a pity we see so
much of what we cannot have," he answered, rattling the coffee-cups and
silver.
Pauline made no reply to this, but stood by the fireplace in silence
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[Illustration: Girl of the Harem.]
CONSTANTINOPLE.
BY
EDMONDO DE AMICIS,
AUTHOR OF “HOLLAND,” “SPAIN AND THE SPANIARDS,” ETC.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTEENTH ITALIAN EDITION BY
MARIA HORNOR LANSDALE.
ILLUSTRATED.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
1896.
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
TURKISH WOMEN 7
YANGHEN VAHR 71
THE WALLS 101
THE OLD SERAGLIO 141
THE LAST DAYS 213
THE TURKS 247
THE BOSPHORUS 269
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME II.
Photogravures by W. H. GILBO.
PAGE
GIRL OF THE HAREM _Frontispiece._
TURKISH LADY 11
LEMONADE-SELLER 19
AN OUTING OF THE WOMEN OF THE HAREM 21
DANCING GIRLS 45
TURKISH FIREMEN 79
WATER-SELLER 85
AQUEDUCT OF VALENS 96
MOSQUE OF THE CHORA 110
DERVISH 120
INTERIOR VIEW OF THE SEVEN TOWERS 127
VIEW OF INTERIOR OF THE SEVEN TOWERS 133
PANORAMA OF THE SERAGLIO 147
A TURKISH WOMAN 184
GATEWAY OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE AT THE SWEET WATERS OF ASIA 194
PANORAMA OF MOSQUE OF BAYEZID 218
ANCIENT FOUNTAIN AT SKUTARI 223
CEMETERY OF EYÛB AND VIEW OF THE GOLDEN HORN 229
TÜRBEH OF THE MOSQUE SHAZADEH 235
TOMBS OF MAHMÛD II. AND OF HIS SON ABDUL-AZIZ 237
COFFEE-MAKERS 245
BOSPHORUS: VIEW OF SHORES OF ASIA AND EUROPE 271
MOSQUE OF VALIDÊH AT OK SERAI 275
SWEET WATERS OF EUROPE 280
ENTRANCE TO THE BLACK SEA 293
TURKISH WOMEN.
On arriving in Constantinople for the first time, one is much
surprised, after all he has heard of the thraldom of the Turkish women,
to see them, everywhere and at all hours of the day, coming and going
with apparently the same freedom as the women of any other city in
Europe. It seems as though all these imprisoned swallows must that
very day have been given their liberty, and a new era of freedom and
independence dawned for the fair sex among the Mussulmans. At first
the impression is very odd: one is in doubt whether all these females
enveloped in white veils and long, variously- mantles are nuns
or masqueraders or lunatics; and, as you never by any chance see one of
them accompanied by a man, they seem not to belong to any one, being
all, apparently, young girls or widows or inmates of some huge asylum
for the “unhappily married.” It is some time before you can realize
that all these Turkish men and women, who meet and jostle one another
in the streets without ever walking along together or interchanging
so much as a nod or look, can have anything in common, and you
constantly find yourself stopping to watch them and reflect upon this
singular custom. And these strange figures, you say to yourself--these
actually are those “subduers of hearts,” “fountains of peace,”
“little rose-leaves,” “early grapes,” “morning rays,” “life-givers”,
“sunrises”, and “shining moons” about whom thousands of poets have
written and sung? These are the “hanums” and mysterious slaves, reading
of whom in Victor Hugo’s ballads at the age of twenty, in a shady
garden, we imagined to be like beings of another world? These the
unfortunate beauties, hidden behind gratings, watched over by e | 1,372.361398 |
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The True Story of
THE AMERICAN FLAG
JOHN H. FOW
[Illustration: Fig. 8
FLAG CARRIED BY THE FIRST CITY TROOP OF PHILADELPHIA IN ESCORTING
WASHINGTON ACROSS THE JERSEYS ON HIS WAY TO TAKE COMMAND AT CAMBRIDGE]
THE TRUE STORY
OF THE
AMERICAN FLAG
BY
JOHN H. FOW
PHILADELPHIA
WILLIAM J. CAMPBELL
1908
Copyright, 1908
BY
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Transcriber's Notes:
(1) Obvious spelling, punctuation, and typographical errors have | 1,372.455003 |
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STORIES OF USEFUL INVENTIONS
[Illustration:
Guglielmo Marconi
Benjamin Franklin
Thomas Edison
Sir Henry Bessemer
Robert Fulton
Alexander Graham Bell
Hudson Maxim
A GROUP OF INVENTORS]
STORIES OF
USEFUL INVENTIONS
BY
S. E. FORMAN
AUTHOR OF "A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES,"
"ADVANCED CIVICS," ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1911
Copyright, 1911, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published September, 1911_
PREFACE
In this little book I have given the history of those inventions which
are most useful to man in his daily life. I have told the story of the
Match, the Stove, the Lamp, the Forge, the Steam-Engine, the Plow, the
Reaper, the Mill, the Loom, the House, the Carriage, the Boat, the
Clock, the Book, and the Message. From the history of these inventions
we learn how man became the master of the world of nature around him,
how he brought fire and air and earth and water under his control and
compelled them to do his will and his work. When we trace the growth of
these inventions we at the same time trace the course of human progress.
These stories, therefore, are stories of human progress; they are
chapters in the history of civilization.
And they are chapters which have not hitherto been brought together in
one book. Monographs on most of the subjects included in this book have
appeared, and excellent books about modern inventions have been written,
but as far as I know, this is the first time the evolution of these
useful inventions has been fully traced in a single volume.
While preparing the stories I have received many courtesies from
officers in the Library of Congress and from those of the National
Museum.
S. E. F.
May, 1911.
Washington, D. C.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE FOREWORD ix
I THE MATCH 3
II THE STOVE 13
III THE LAMP 28
IV THE FORGE 38
V THE STEAM-ENGINE 54
VI THE PLOW 73
VII THE REAPER 85
VIII THE MILL 97
IX THE LOOM 109
X THE HOUSE 123
XI THE CARRIAGE 144
XII THE CARRIAGE (_Continued_) 156
XIII THE BOAT 166
XIV THE CLOCK 187
XV THE BOOK 203
XVI THE MESSAGE 222
A FOREWORD[1]
These stories of useful inventions are chapters in the history of
civilization and this little book is a book of history. Now we are told
by Herodotus, one of the oldest and greatest of historians, that when
the writer of history records an event he should state the _time_ and
the _place_ of its happening. In some kinds of history--in the history
of the world's wars, for example, or in the history of its
politics--this is strictly true. When we are reading of the battle of
Bunker Hill we should be told precisely when and where the battle was
fought, and in an account of the Declaration of Independence the time
and place of the declaration should be given. But in the history of
inventions we cannot always be precise as to dates and places. Of course
it cannot be told when the first plow or the first loom or the first
clock was made. Inventions like these had their origin far back in the
earliest ages when there was no such person as a historian. And when we
come to the history of inventions in more recent times the historian is
still sometimes unable to discover the precise time and place of an
invention.
It is in the nature of things that the origin of an invention should be
surrounded by uncertainty and doubt. An invention, as we shall see
presently, is nearly always a response to a certain want. The world
wants something and it promises a rich reward to one who will furnish
the desired thing. The inventor, recognizing the want, sets to work to
make the thing, but he conducts his experiments in secret, for the
reason that he does not want another to steal his ideas and get ahead of
him. We can see that this is true in respect to the flying machine. The
first experiments with the flying machine were conducted in secret in
out of the way places and pains were taken that the public should know
as little as possible about the new machine and about the results of the
experiments. The history of the flying machine will of course have to be
written, but because of the secrecy and mystery which surrounded the
beginnings of the invention it will be extremely difficult for the
future historian to tell precisely when the first flying machine was
invented or to name the inventor. If it is so difficult to get the facts
as to the origin of an invention in our own time, how much more
difficult it is to clear away the mystery and doubt which surround the
beginnings of an invention in an age long past!
In a history of inventions, then, the historian cannot be precise in
respect to dates and places. Fortunately this is not a cause for deep
regret. It is not a great loss to truth that we cannot know precisely
when the first book was printed, nor does it make much difference
whether that book was printed in Holland or in Germany. In giving an
account of an invention we may be content to treat the matter of time
and place broadly, for the story is apt to carry us through a stretch of
years that defies computation, a stretch that is immensely longer than
the life of any nation. For our purpose these millenniums, these long
stretches of time, may be thought of as being divided into three great
periods, namely: the _primitive_, the _ancient_, and the _modern_
period. Even a division so broad as this is not satisfactory, for in the
progress of their inventions all countries have not kept equal step with
the march of time. In some things ancient Greece was modern, while in
most things modern Alaska is primitive and modern China is ancient.
Nevertheless it will be convenient at times in this book to speak of the
_primitive_, the _ancient_ and the _modern_ periods, and it will be
useful to regard the _primitive_ period as beginning with the coming of
man on earth and extending to the year 5000 B. C.; the _ancient_ period
may be thought of as beginning with the year 5000 B. C. and ending with
the year 476 A. D., leaving for the _modern_ period the years that have
passed since 476 A. D.
In tracing the growth of an invention the periods indicated above can
serve as a time-guide only for those parts of the world where the course
of civilization has taken its way, for invention and civilization have
traveled the same road. The region of the world's most advanced
civilization includes the lands bordering on the Mediterranean Sea,
Central and Northern Europe, the British Isles, North America, South
America and Australia. It is within this region that we shall follow the
development of whatever invention is under consideration. When speaking
of the first forms of an invention, however, it will sometimes be
necessary, when an illustration is desired, to draw upon the experience
of people who are outside of the wall of civilization. The reason for
going outside is plain. The first and simplest forms of the useful
inventions have utterly perished in civilized countries, but they still
exist among savage and barbarous peoples and it is among such peoples
that the first forms must be studied. Thus in the story of the clock,
we must go to a far-off peninsula of Southern Asia (p. 190) for an
illustration of the beginning of our modern timepiece. Such a departure
from the beaten track of civilization does not spoil the story, for as a
rule, the rude forms of inventions found among the lowest races of
to-day are precisely the same forms that were in use among the Egyptians
and Greeks when they were in their lowest state.
When studying the history of an invention there are two facts or
principles which should ever be borne in mind. The first principle is
this: _Necessity is the mother of invention._ This principle was touched
upon when it was said that an invention appears as a response to a want.
When the world wants an invention it usually gets it and makes the most
of it, but it will have nothing to do with an invention it does not
want. The steam-engine was invented two thousand years ago (p. 55) but
the world then had no work for steam to do, so the invention attracted
little attention and came to naught. About two hundred years ago,
however, man did want the services of steam and inventors were not long
in supplying the engine that was needed. About a hundred years ago the
broad prairie lands of the United States began to be tilled but it was
soon found that the vast areas could not be plowed and that the immense
crops could not be harvested by the old methods. So improvements upon
the plow and the reaper began to be made and in time the steam gang-plow
and the complete harvester were invented. When the locomotive first came
into use a simple handbrake was used to stop the slow-going trains, but
as the size and the speed of trains increased the handbrake became more
and more unsatisfactory. Sometimes a train would run as much as a half
mile beyond a station before it could be stopped and then when "backed"
it would again pass beyond the station. The problem of stopping the
train promptly became fully as important as starting it. The problem was
solved by the invention of the air-brake. And thus it has been with all
the inventions which surround us: necessity has been the mother of them
all.
The other principle is that a mechanical invention is a _growth_, or, to
state the truth in another way, an invention nearly always is simply an
improvement upon a previous invention. The loom, for example, was not
invented by a particular person at a particular time; it did not spring
into existence in a day with all its parts perfected; it _grew_, century
by century, piece by piece. In the stories which will follow the steps
in the growth of an invention are shown in the illustrations. These
pictures are not for amusement but for study. As you read, examine them
carefully and they will teach you quite as much about the growth of the
invention as you can be taught by words.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Where readers are quite young the Foreword had better be postponed
until the stories themselves are read.
STORIES OF USEFUL INVENTIONS
THE MATCH
Did you ever think how great and how many are the blessings of fire? Try
to think of a world without fire. Suppose we should wake up some bitter
cold morning and find that all the fires in the world were out, and that
there was no way of rekindling them; that the art of kindling a fire had
been lost. In such a plight we should all soon be shivering with the
cold, for our stoves and furnaces could give us no warmth; we should all
soon be hungry, for we could not cook our food; we should all soon be
idle, for engines could not draw trains, wheels of factories could not
turn, and trade and commerce would come to a standstill; at night we
would grope in darkness, for we could use neither lamp nor gas nor
electric light. It is easy to see that without fire, whether for light
or heat, the life of man would be most wretched.
There never was a time when the world was without fire, but there was a
time when men did not know how to kindle fire; and after they learned
how to kindle one, it was a long, long time before they learned how to
kindle one easily. In these days we can kindle a fire without any
trouble, because we can easily get a match; but we must remember that
the match is one of the most wonderful things in the world, and that it
took men thousands of years to learn how to make one. Let us learn the
history of this familiar little object, the match.
Fire was first given to man by nature itself. When a forest is set on
fire by cinders from a neighboring volcano, or when a tree is set ablaze
by a thunderbolt, we may say that nature strikes a match. In the early
history of the world, nature had to kindle all the fires, for man by his
own effort was unable to produce a spark. The first method, then, of
getting fire for use was to light sticks of wood at a flame kindled by
nature--by a volcano, perhaps, or by a stroke of lightning. These
firebrands (Fig. 1) were carried to the home and used in kindling the
fires there. The fire secured in this way was carefully guarded and was
kept burning as long as possible. But the flame, however faithfully
watched, would sometimes be extinguished. A sudden gust of wind or a
sudden shower would put it out. Then a new firebrand would have to be
secured, and this often meant a long journey and a deal of trouble.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--GETTING A MATCH FROM NATURE.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--PRIMITIVE FIRE-MAKING. THE STICK-AND-GROOVE
METHOD.]
In the course of time a man somewhere in the world hit upon a plan of
kindling a fire without having any fire to begin with; that is to say,
he hit upon a plan of producing a fire by _artificial_ means. He knew
that by rubbing his hands together very hard and very fast he could make
them very warm. By trial he learned that by rubbing two pieces of dry
wood together he could make _them_ very warm. Then he asked himself the
question: Can a fire be kindled by rubbing two pieces of wood together,
if they are rubbed hard enough? He placed upon the ground a piece of
perfectly dry wood (Fig. 2) and rubbed this with the end of a stick
until a groove was made. In the groove a fine dust of wood--a kind of
sawdust--was made by the rubbing. He went on rubbing hard and fast,
and, behold, the dust in the groove began to glow! He placed some dry
grass upon the embers and blew upon them with his breath, and the grass
burst into a flame.[2] Here for the first time a man kindled a fire for
himself. He had invented the match, the greatest invention, perhaps, in
the history of the world.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.--THE FIRE DRILL.
(Simple Form.)]
The stick-and-groove method--as we may call it--of getting a flame was
much better than guarding fire and carrying it from place to place; yet
it was, nevertheless, a very clumsy method. The wood used had to be
perfectly dry, and the rubbing required a vast amount of work and
patience. Sometimes it would take hours to produce the spark. After a
while--and doubtless it was a very long while--it was found that it was
better to keep the end of the stick in one spot and twirl it (Fig. 3)
than it was to plow to and fro with it. The twirling motion made a hole
in which the heat produced by the friction was confined in a small
space. At first the drilling was done by twirling the stick between the
palms of the hands, but this made the hands too hot for comfort, and
the fire-makers learned to do the twirling with a cord or thong[3]
wrapped around the stick (Fig. 4). You see, the upper end of the stick
which serves as a drill turns in a cavity in a mouthpiece which the
operator holds between his teeth. If you should undertake to use a
fire-drill of this kind, it is likely that your jaws would be painfully
jarred.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.--FIRE DRILL.
(Improved Form.)]
By both the methods described above, the fire was obtained by rubbing or
_friction_. The friction method seems to have been used by all primitive
peoples, and it is still in use among savages in various parts of the
world.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.--STRIKING FIRE.]
[Illustration: FIG. 6.--TINDER BOX, FLINT, STEEL, AND SULPHUR-TIPPED
SPLINTERS.]
The second step in fire-making was taken when it was discovered that a
spark can be made by striking together a stone and a piece of iron ore.
Strike a piece of flint against a piece of iron ore known as pyrites, or
fire-stone, and you will make sparks fly. (Fig. 5.) Let these sparks fall
into small pieces of dried moss or powdered charcoal, and the _tinder_,
as the moss or the charcoal is called, will catch fire. It will glow,
but it will not blaze. Now hold a dry splinter in the glowing tinder,
and fan or blow with the breath and the splinter will burst into a
flame. If you will tip your splinter with sulphur before you place it in
the burning tinder, you will get a flame at once. This was the
strike-a-light, or _percussion_, method of making a fire. It followed
the friction method, and was a great improvement upon it because it took
less work and a shorter time to get a blaze. The regular outfit for
fire-making with the strike-a-light consisted of a tinder-box, a piece
of steel, a piece of flint, and some splinters tipped with sulphur (Fig.
6). The flint and steel were struck together, and the sparks thus made
fell into the tinder and made it glow. A splinter was applied as quickly
as possible to the tinder, and when a flame was produced the candle
which rested in the socket on the tinder-box was lighted. As soon as the
splinter was lighted the cover was replaced on the tinder-box, so as to
smother the glowing tinder and save it for another time.
The strike-a-light method was discovered many thousands of years ago,
and it has been used by nearly all the civilized nations of the
world.[4] And it has not been so very long since this method was laid
aside. There are many people now living who remember when the flint and
steel and tinder-box were in use in almost every household.
About three hundred years ago a third method of producing fire was
discovered. If you should drop a small quantity of sulphuric acid into a
mixture of chlorate of potash and sugar, you would produce a bright
flame. Here was a hint for a new way of making a fire; and a thoughtful
man in Vienna, in the seventeenth century, profited by the hint. He took
one of the sulphur-tipped splinters which he was accustomed to use with
his tinder-box, and dipped it into sulphuric acid, and then applied it
to a mixture of chlorate of potash and sugar. The splinter caught fire
and burned with a blaze. Here was neither friction nor percussion. The
chemical substances were simply brought together, and they caught fire
of themselves; that is to say, they caught fire by _chemical_ action.
The discovery made by the Vienna man led to a new kind of match--the
chemical match. A practical outfit for fire-making now consisted of a
bottle of sulphuric acid (vitriol) and a bundle of splints tipped with
sulphur, chlorate of potash, and sugar. Matches of this kind were very
expensive, costing as much as five dollars a hundred; besides, they were
very unsatisfactory. Often when the match was dipped into the acid it
would not catch fire, but would smolder and sputter and throw the acid
about and spoil both the clothes and the temper. These dip-splint
matches were used in the eighteenth century by those who liked them and
could afford to buy them. They did not, however, drive out the old
strike-a-light and tinder-box.
In the nineteenth century--the century in which so many wonderful things
were done--the fourth step in the development of the match was taken. In
1827, John Walker, a druggist in a small English town, tipped a splint
with sulphur, chlorate of potash, and sulphid of antimony, and rubbed it
on sandpaper, and it burst into flame. The druggist had discovered the
first _friction-chemical_ match, the kind we use to-day. It is called
friction-chemical because it is made by mixing certain chemicals
together and rubbing them. Although Walker's match did not require the
bottle of acid, nevertheless it was not a good one. It could be lighted
only by hard rubbing, and it sputtered and threw fire in all directions.
In a few years, however, phosphorus was substituted on the tip for
antimony, and the change worked wonders. The match could now be lighted
with very little rubbing, and it was no longer necessary to have
sandpaper upon which to rub it. It would ignite when rubbed on any dry
surface, and there was no longer any sputtering. This was the
_phosphorus_ match, the match with which we are so familiar.
After the invention of the easily-lighted phosphorus match there was no
longer use for the dip-splint or the strike-a-light. The old methods of
getting a blaze were gradually laid aside and forgotten. The first
phosphorus matches were sold at twenty-five cents a block--a block (Fig.
7) containing a hundred and forty-four matches. They were used by few.
Now a hundred matches can be bought for a cent. It is said that in the
United States we use about 150,000,000,000 matches a year. This, on an
average, is about five matches a day for each person.
[Illustration: FIG. 7.--A "BLOCK" OF MATCHES.]
There is one thing against the phosphorus match: it ignites too easily.
If one is left on the floor, it may be ignited by stepping upon it, or
by something falling upon it. We may step on a phosphorus match
unawares, light it, leave it burning, and thus set the house on fire.
Mice often have caused fires by gnawing the phosphorus matches and
igniting them. In one city thirty destructive fires were caused in one
year by mice lighting matches.
[Illustration: FIG. 8.--A BOX OF MODERN SAFETY MATCHES.]
To avoid accident by matches, the _safety match_ (Fig. 8) has recently
been invented. The safety match does not contain phosphorus. The
phosphorus is mixed with fine sand and glued to the side of the box in
which the matches are sold. The safety match, therefore, cannot be
lighted unless it is rubbed on the phosphorus on the outside of the box.
It is so much better than the old kind of phosphorus match that it is
driving the latter out of the market. Indeed, in some places it is
forbidden by law to sell any kind of match but the safety match.
The invention of the safety match is the last step in the long history
of fire-making. The first match was lighted by rubbing, and the match of
our own time is lighted by rubbing; yet what a difference there is
between the two! With the plowing-stick or fire-drill it took strength
and time and skill to get a blaze; with the safety match an awkward
little child can kindle a fire in a second.
And how long it has taken to make the match as good as it is! The
steam-engine, the telegraph, the telephone, and the electric light were
all in use before the simple little safety match.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Mr. Walter Hough of the National Museum, himself a wizard in the art
of fire-making, tells me that a blaze cannot be produced simply by
rubbing sticks together. All that can be done by rubbing is to make them
glow.
[3] A narrow strip of leather.
[4] The ancient Greeks used a burning-glass or -lens for kindling fire.
The lens focused the sun's rays upon a substance that would burn easily
and set it afire. The burning-glass was not connected in any way with
the development of the match.
THE STOVE
From the story of the match you have learned how man through long ages
of experience gradually mastered the art of making a fire easily and
quickly. In this chapter, and in several which are to follow, we shall
have the history of those inventions which have enabled man to make the
best use of fire. Since the first and greatest use of fire is to cook
food and keep the body warm, our account of the inventions connected
with the use of fire may best begin with the story of the stove.
The most important uses of fire were taught by fire itself. As the
primitive man stood near the flames of the burning tree and felt their
pleasant glow, he learned that fire may add to bodily comfort; and when
the flames swept through a forest and overtook a deer and baked it, he
learned that fire might be used to improve the quality of his food. The
hint was not lost. He took a burning torch to his cave or hut and
kindled a fire on his floor of earth. His dwelling filled with smoke,
but he could endure the discomfort for the sake of the fire's warmth,
and for the sake of the toothsomeness of the cooked meats. After a time
a hole was made in the roof of the hut, and through this hole the smoke
passed out. Here was the first stove. The primitive stove was the entire
house; the floor was the fireplace and the hole in the roof was the
chimney (Fig. 1). The word "stove" originally meant "a heated room." So
that if we should say that at first people lived in their stoves, we
should say that which is literally true.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--THE PRIMITIVE STOVE.]
Early inventions in cooking consisted in simple devices for applying
flame directly to the thing which was to be cooked. The first roasting
was doubtless done by fastening the flesh to a pole placed in a
horizontal position above the fire and supported as is shown in Figure
2.[5] The horizontal bar called a spit was originally of wood, but after
man had learned to work in metals an iron bar was used. When one side of
the flesh was roasted the spit was turned and the other side was exposed
to the flames. The spit of the primitive age was the parent of the
modern grill and broiler.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--PRIMITIVE COOKING.]
Food was first boiled in a hole in the ground. A hole was filled with
water into which heated stones were thrown. The stones, by giving off
their heat, caused the water to boil in a very short time. After the
art of making vessels of clay was learned, food was boiled in earthen
pots suspended above the fire.
The methods of warming the house and cooking the food which have just
been described were certainly crude and inconvenient, but it was
thousands of years before better methods were invented. The long periods
of savagery and barbarism passed and the period of civilization was
ushered in, but civilization did not at once bring better stoves.
Neither the ancient Egyptians nor the ancient Greeks knew how to heat a
house comfortably and conveniently. All of them used the primitive
stove--a fire on the floor and a hole in the roof. In the house of an
ancient Greek there was usually one room which could be heated when
there was need, and this was called the "black-room" (_atrium_)--black
from the soot and smoke which escaped from the fire on the floor.
But we must not speak harshly of the ancients because they were slow in
improving their methods of heating for in truth the modern world has
not done as well in this direction as might have been expected. In a
book of travels written only sixty years ago may be found the following
passage: "In Normandy, where the cold is severe and fire expensive, the
lace-makers, to keep themselves warm and to save fuel, agree with some
farmer who has cows in winter quarters to be allowed to carry on their
work in the society of the cattle. The cows would be tethered in a long
row on one side of the apartment, and the lace-makers sit on the ground
on the other side with their feet buried in the straw." Thus the
lace-makers kept themselves warm by the heat which came from the bodies
of the cattle; the cows, in other words, served as stoves. This
barbarous method of heating, was practised in some parts of France less
than sixty years ago.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.--A ROMAN BRAZIER.]
The ancient peoples around the Mediterranean may be excused for not
making great progress in the art of heating, for their climate was so
mild that they seldom had use for fire in the house. Nevertheless there
was in use among these people an invention which has in the course of
centuries developed into the stove of to-day. This was the _brazier_, or
warming-pan (Fig. 3). The brazier was filled with burning charcoal and
was carried from room to room as it was needed. The unpleasant gases
which escaped from the charcoal were made less offensive, but not less
unhealthy, by burning perfumes with the fuel. The brazier has never been
entirely laid aside. It is still used in Spain and in other warm
countries where the necessity for fire is rarely felt.
The brazier satisfied the wants of Greece, but the colder climate of
Rome required something better; and in their efforts to invent something
better, the ancient Romans made real progress in the art of warming
their houses. They built a fire-room--called a _hypocaust_--in the
cellar, and, by means of pipes made of baked clay, they connected the
hypocaust with different parts of the house (Fig. 4). Heat and smoke
passed up together through these pipes. The poor ancients, it seems,
were forever persecuted by smoke. However, after the wood in the
hypocaust was once well charred, the smoke was not so troublesome. The
celebrated baths (club-rooms) of ancient Rome were heated by means of
hypocausts with excellent results. Indeed, the hypocaust had many of the
features and many of the merits of our modern furnace. Its weak feature
was that it had no separate pipe to carry away the smoke. But as there
were no chimneys yet in the world, it is no wonder there was no such
pipe.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.--A ROMAN HYPOCAUST.]
The Romans made quite as much progress in the art of cooking as they
did in the art of heating. Perhaps the world has never seen more skilful
cooks than those who served in the mansions of the rich during the
period of the Roman Empire (27 B.C.-476 A.D.). In this period the great
men at Rome abandoned their plain way of living and became gourmands.
One of them wished for the neck of a crane, that he might enjoy for a
longer time his food as it descended. This demand for tempting viands
developed a race of cooks who were artists in their way. Upon one
occasion a king called for a certain kind of fish. The fish could not be
had, but the cook was equal to the emergency. "He cut a large turnip to
the perfect imitation of the fish desired, and this he fried and
seasoned so skilfully that his majesty's taste was exquisitely deceived,
and he praised the root to his guests as an excellent fish." Such
excellent cooking could not be done on a primitive stove, and along with
the improvements in the art of cooking, there was a corresponding
improvement at Rome in the art of stove-making.
When Rome fell (476 A.D.), many of the best features of her civilization
perished with her. Among the things that were lost to the world were the
Roman methods of cooking and heating. When the barbarians came in at the
front door, the cooks fled from the kitchen. The hardy northerners had
no taste for dainty cooking. Hypocausts ceased to be used, and were no
longer built. For several hundred years, in all the countries of Europe,
the fireplace was located, as of old, on the floor in the center of the
room, while the smoke was allowed to pass out through a hole in the
roof.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.--A CHIMNEY AND FIREPLACE IN AN OLD ENGLISH
CASTLE.]
The eleventh century brought a great improvement in the art of heating,
and the improvement came from England. About the time of the Conquest
(1066) a great deal of fighting was done on the roofs of English
fortresses, and the smoke coming up through the hole in the center of
the roof proved to be troublesome to the soldiers. So the fire was moved
from the center of the floor to a spot near an outside wall, and an
opening was made in the wall just above | 1,372.458523 |
2023-11-16 18:39:56.4394490 | 7,423 | 67 |
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Transcriber Note
Text emphasis is denoted as _Italic Text._
_Barr's Buffon._
Buffon's Natural History.
CONTAINING
A THEORY OF THE EARTH,
A GENERAL
_HISTORY OF MAN_,
OF THE BRUTE CREATION, AND OF
VEGETABLES, MINERALS,
_&c. &c._
FROM THE FRENCH.
WITH NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR.
IN TEN VOLUMES.
VOL. IX.
London:
PRINTED FOR THE PROPRIETOR,
AND SOLD BY H. D. SYMONDS, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1807.
T. Gillet, Crown-court, Fleet-street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE NINTH VOLUME
_Page_
_The Loris_ 1
_The Javelin Bat_ 3
_The Serval_ 6
_The Ocelot_ 9
_The Margay_ 13
_The Jackal and the Adil_ 17
_The Isatis_ 25
_The Glutton_ 29
_The Stinkards_ 35
_The Pekan and the Vison_ 41
_The Leming_ 46
_The Sea Otter_ 51
_The Canakian Otter_ 52
_The Seal, Walrus, and the Manati_ 55
_The Seal_ 57
_The Walrus, Morse, or Sea-Cow_ 78
_The Dugon_ 89
_The Manati_ 92
_The Nomenclature of Apes_ 107
_The Orang-Outang, or the Pongo and the Jocko_ 149
_The Pithecos, or Pigmy_ 177
_The Gibon, or Long-tailed Ape_ 185
_The Magot, or Barbary Ape_ 188
_The Papion, or Baboon, properly so called_ 192
_The Mandrill_ 197
_The Ouanderou, and the Lowando_ 199
_The Maimon_ 202
_The Macaque, and the Egret_ 205
_The Patas_ 208
_The Malbrouck, and the Bonnet Chinois_ 210
_The Mangabey_ 216
_The Mona_ 218
_The Callitrix, or Green Monkey_ 221
_The Moustac_ 224
_The Talapoin_ 225
_The Douc_ 227
_The Sapajous and the Sagoins_ 231
_The Ourine, and the Alouate_ 234
_The Coati, and the Exquima_ 240
_The Sajou_ 247
_The Sai_ 249
_The Siamiri_ 251
_The Saki_ 252
_The Tamarin_ 254
_The Ouistiti_ 255
_The Marikina_ 258
_The Pinch_ 259
_The Mico_ 261
_Account of some Animals not expressly treated
of in this Work_ 264
_The White Bear_ 265
_The Tartarian Cow_ 272
_The Tolai_ 275
_The Zizel_ 276
_The Zemni_ 277
_The Pouch_ 279
_The Perouasca_ 279
_The Souslik_ 280
_The Golden- Mole_ 282
_The White Water-Rat_ 283
_The Guinea-Hog_ 284
_The Wild Boar of Cape Verd_ 285
_The Mexican Wolf_ 293
_The Alco_ 295
_The Tayra, or Galeri_ 299
_The Philander of Surinam_ 300
_The Akouchi_ 302
_The Tucan_ 304
_The Field-Mouse of Brasil_ 305
_The Aperea_ 306
_The Tapeti_ 307
_Supplement to the Quadrupeds_ 309
_The Crab-eater_ 309
_Anonymous Animal_ 312
_Rat of Madagascar_ 314
_Degeneration of Animals_ 315
_Directions for placing the Plates in the Ninth Volume._
Page 1, Fig. 176, 177, 178, 179.
9, Fig. 180, 181.
29, Fig. 182, 183, 184.
35, Fig. 185, 186, 187, 188.
41, Fig. 189, 190, 191.
57, Fig. 192, 193, 194.
150, Fig. 195, 196.
189, Fig. 197, 198.
197, Fig. 199, 200.
202, Fig. 201, 202, 203.
208, Fig. 204, 205, 206, 207.
221, Fig. 208, 209, 210.
225, Fig. 211, 212, 215.
247, Fig. 213, 214, 216.
255, Fig. 217, 218, 219.
BUFFON'S
NATURAL HISTORY.
_OF CARNIVOROUS ANIMALS._
THE LORIS.
The Loris (_fig. 176._) is a small animal found in Ceylon, very
remarkable for the elegance of its figure, and for the singularity of
its conformation: it has, perhaps, of all animals, the longest body
in proportion to its bulk, having nine vertebrae in the loins, whereas
other quadrupeds have only five, six, or seven. The length of the body
is the natural effect of this structure, and it appears the longer
for having no tail; in other respects, it resembles the maki kind, as
well in the hands and feet as in the quality of the hair, the number
of teeth, and the sharpness of its muzzle. Independently of these
singularities, which separates this animal from the makis, he has
other particular attributes. His head is entirely round; his eyes are
excessively large, and very close to each other; his ears are large,
round, and, in their insides, have three auricles in the shape of small
shells; but what is still more singular, and perhaps unmatched in the
whole tribe of animals, is that the female discharges her urine through
the clitoris, which is perforated like the sexual organ of the male,
and who in these two parts perfectly resemble each other.
Linnaeus has given a short description of this animal, which appears to
be exactly conformable to Nature. It is also very correctly delineated
by Seba; and evidently appears to be the same as that which Thevenot
speaks of in the following terms: "I saw, (says he) in the Mogul
country, monkeys which had been brought from Ceylon; they were greatly
valued on account of their size, being not bigger than a man's fist.
They were different from the common monkey, having a flat forehead,
eyes round and large, and of a bright yellow colour, like those of some
cats: their muzzle is very pointed: the inside of the ears is yellow,
and they have no tail. When I examined them they sat erect on their
hind feet, folded the others across, and looked round at the spectators
without the least signs of fear."
_Engraved for Barr's Buffon._
[Illustration: FIG. 176. _Loris._ FIG. 177. _Javelin Bat._]
[Illustration: FIG. 178. _Lame Headed Bat._ FIG. 179. _Shrew Bat._]
THE JAVELIN BAT.
Among the numbers of the bat species, which were neither named nor
known, we indicated some by names derived from foreign languages, and
others by denominations drawn from their most striking characters. We
have called one the _Horse-shoe Bat_, from the exact resemblance the
fore-part of its face bears to a horse-shoe, and the animal in question
we have called the Javelin Bat, (_fig. 177._) from a sort of membrane
on its nose which perfectly resembles the head of an ancient javelin,
or spear. Though this character alone is sufficient to distinguish it
from all other bats, yet we may add, that it has scarcely any tail,
that its hair and size are nearly like the common bat, but that instead
of having six incisive teeth in the lower jaw, it has only four. This
species of bat is very common in America, but is never found in Europe.
There is another bat in Senegal, which has also a membrane upon its
nose, not in the form of a horse-shoe, or javelin, as in the two
bats we have just mentioned, but in the shape of an oval leaf. These
three bats, being of different climates, are not simple varieties but
distinct and separate species. M. Daubenton has given the description
of the Senegal bat, under the name of the _leaf bat_, in the Memoirs of
the Royal Academy of Sciences, 1759, p. 374.
Bats which have great affinities to birds, by the power of flying,
and the strength of their pectoral muscles, seem to resemble them
still more in these membranes, or crests, which they have on their
faces. These redundant parts, which, at first sight, seem only to be
superfluous deformities, are real characters which fill up the visible
shades between these flying quadrupeds and birds; for most of the
latter have crests, or membranes, about their beaks and heads, which
seem in every respect as superfluous as those of the bats.
SUPPLEMENT.
We have received from M. Pallas the figures and descriptions of
two bats hitherto unknown to naturalists; the first he calls the
_cephalote_, or large-headed bat, (_fig. 178._) from its head being
so very large in proportion to its body. This bat M. Pallas says is
found in the Malacca islands; and from his finding but one foetus in
a female, which was sent to him to Amsterdam, and which he dissected,
he concludes they have but one young at a time: this species differs
also from all others in the teeth, which in some measure resemble those
of the mouse or hedge-hog; it has a short tail, situated between the
thighs, a large nose and a broad muzzle; its breast is very similar to
that of a bird; it is very near four inches long, and its wings extend
above a foot.
The second he calls the _vespertilio soricinus_, or _shrew bat_ (_fig.
179._); this one has no tail, and carries a peculiar membrane on its
nose; it is the smallest that is met with without a tail, being not
more than two inches in length. This species is very common in the
warm climates of America, the Carribbee Islands, and Surinam.
At the same time M. Pallas sent us the account of these animals he
remarked that we were in an error in our former description of the
javelin bat, by confounding it with the American bat, mentioned by
Seba, he, from a careful examination, being convinced of their being
different species; and we feel ourselves indebted to this gentleman for
the pains he has taken to rectify our mistake.
THE SERVAL.
This animal, which was kept alive several years in the royal menagerie,
by name of the _tiger-cat_, seems to be the same with that described by
the gentlemen of the Academy, under the denomination of _chat-pard_;
and we should have still remained ignorant of its true name if the
Marquis de Montmirail had not discovered it in an Italian book of
travels which he has translated, and sent the following extract: "The
_marapute_, which the Portugueze in India, called _serval_ (says P.
Vincent-Marie) is a ferocious animal, larger than the wild cat, and
something less than the civet, from which last he differs by his head
being rounder and thicker, and his face sinking in about the middle.
He resembles the panther in the colour of his hair, which is yellow
on the head, back, and sides, and white under the belly; also by the
spots, which are distinct, equally distributed, and a little less than
those of the panther. His eyes are very brilliant; his whiskers are
composed of long and stiff bristles; his tail is short; his feet large,
and armed with long and hooked claws. He is found in the mountains of
India; he is seldom seen on the ground, but remains almost continually
on high trees, where he catches birds, which are his principal food.
He leaps as nimbly as a monkey, and goes from one tree to another with
such address and agility and passes over a great space in so short a
time, that he may be said only to appear and disappear; he is ferocious
in his nature, but flees at the sight of man, unless irritated, or
his nest attacked, when he flies at the offender, and bites and tears
nearly like the panther."
Neither captivity, nor good nor bad treatment, will tame or soften the
ferocity of this animal. That which we saw in the menagerie was always
ready to rush on those who came near him: we could neither take a
design nor a description of him, otherwise than betwixt the bars of his
cage. He was fed with flesh, like the panther and leopard. This serval,
or marapute of Malabar and India, seems to be the same animal as the
tiger-cat of Senegal and the Cape of Good Hope, which, according to the
testimony of travellers, resembles our cat in its shape, and the tiger
(that is the panther or leopard) by the black and white spots of his
fur. "This animal (say they) is four times larger than a cat; is of a
very voracious nature, and feeds on monkeys, rats, and other animals."
From the comparison which we made of the serval and the _chat pard_,
described by the gentlemen of the Academy, we discovered no other
difference than the long spots on the back, and the rings on the tail
of the latter, which the serval has not. The spots on the back of the
serval are closer than those on the other parts of his body; but these
little disagreements are so slight that we cannot doubt of the identity
of the species of these two animals.
_Engraved for Barr's Buffon._
[Illustration: FIG. 180. _Ocelot._]
[Illustration: FIG. 181. _Jackal._]
THE OCELOT.
Ocelot is an abbreviation of _tlalocelotl_, the name of this animal
in Mexico, its native country. It is ferocious and carnivorous, and
may be ranked with the jaguar and cougar, for it is very nearly the
same size, and resembles them in figure and dispositions. A male and
female were shewn at the fair of St. Ovide, in September 1764. They
came from the neighbourhood of Carthagena, and had been taken from
their mother in the month of October, 1763. They became so strong and
cruel at the age of three months as to kill and eat the bitch which had
nursed them. When we saw them, at a year old, they were about two feet
long, and they had then, probably, not attained more than one half, or
two-thirds, of their growth. These animals were shewn by the name of
the _tiger-cat_, but we have rejected this denomination as precarious
and confused, especially as the jaguar, serval, and the margay, or
Cayenne cat, were sent to us under the same denomination, although
those three animals are very different from each other, as well as from
the one we are at present treating of.
The first author who mentions this animal in a distinct manner is
Fabri. He caused Recchi's designs of it to be engraven, and composed
his description from them. He gives also a kind of history of him from
the writings and information of Gregoire de Bolivar. I made these
observations with a view to throw light on the circumstance which had
led all the naturalists into an error, and by which I acknowledge I was
also deceived. This circumstance is to know whether the two animals
designed by Recchi, the first by the name of _tlatlauhquiocelotl_ and
the second by that of _tlacoozlotl_, _tlalocelotl_, and afterwards
described by Fabri as different species, are not the same animal. They
were considered as distinct animals, notwithstanding the resemblance
of their figures, because their names, and even descriptions, were
different. I then supposed the first might be the same as the jaguar,
and therefore gave him the Mexican name of _tlatlauhquiocelotl_, which
I am now convinced does not belong to him; and since I have seen both
the male and female, I am persuaded, that the two described by Fabri,
are only the same animal, of which the first is the male, and the
second the female. This error could only have been discovered by such a
chance as we had of examining both the male and the female together. Of
all animals whose skins are spotted, the robe of the male ocelot (_fig.
180._) is certainly the most beautiful, and most elegantly varied. Even
the skin of the leopard does not come near it for the liveliness of its
colours, and the regularity of its marks; and far less those of the
jaguar, panther, and ounce. The colours of the female ocelot are much
weaker, and the design less regular; and this apparent difference it
was that deceived Recchi, Fabri, and others, and was the occasion of
their considering them as different species.
When the ocelot has arrived at its full growth, he is, according to
Bolivar, two feet and a half high, and about four feet long. The tail,
though of a good length, does not touch the ground when hanging down,
and consequently is not more than two feet long. This animal is very
voracious, but at the same time exceedingly timid. He seldom attacks
the human species, and is terrified at the sight of a dog. When
pursued, he flies to the forests, and climbs up a tree for safety,
where he also sleeps and watches for small animals, on which he
springs when he sees them within his reach. He prefers blood to flesh,
and for this reason he destroys a great number of animals; for instead
of satisfying his hunger by devouring their flesh, he only quenches his
thirst by sucking their blood.
In a state of captivity he preserves his savage nature: nothing can
soften his ferocious disposition, nor calm his restless motion, which
makes it necessary to confine him constantly in a cage. "After these
young animals (says M. de l'Escot) had devoured their nurse, I confined
them in a cage, and had them fed with fresh meat, of which they eat
from seven to eight pounds a day. The male had a singular superiority
over the female, for however hungry the latter might be, she never
touched any of the food until he was satisfied, or such pieces as he
gave her, having previously rejected them. I several times gave them a
live cat, whose blood they sucked until the animal died, but they never
eat any of their flesh. I put two live kids on board the vessel for
their subsistence, for they neither eat, nor touched boiled nor salted
meat."
From the testimony of Gregoire de Bolivar, these animals commonly
produce but two young ones at a birth, which M. de l'Escot seems to
confirm, by saying, he had killed the mother before the two ocelots we
have been speaking of, were taken away.
THE MARGAY.
The Margay is much smaller than the ocelot. He resembles the wild
cat in the size and shape of his body, only his head is more square,
his snout and tail longer, and his ears more rounded; his hair also
is shorter than that of the wild cat, and he has black streaks and
spots on a yellow ground. He was sent us from Cayenne by the name of
the _tiger-cat_, and, in fact, he partakes of the nature of the cat,
jaguar, and ocelot, animals to which the name of tiger has been affixed
in the New Continent. According to Fernandes, when this animal has
arrived at its full growth, it is not quite so big as the civet; and,
according to Marcgrave, whose comparison seems more just, he is about
the size of a wild cat, which he also resembles in his natural habits,
living upon fowls and small animals. He is very difficult to tame,
and never completely loses his natural ferocity. He varies greatly in
his colours, though they are commonly such as we have described. This
animal is very common in Guinea, Brasil, and all the other provinces
of South America. It is probable that the _pichou_ of Louisiana is the
same animal, but the species is less common in temperate than in hot
climates.
If we recapitulate those cruel animals, whose robes are so beautiful,
and whose natures are so malign, we shall find the tiger, panther,
leopard, ounce, and serval, inhabit the Old Continent; and the jaguar,
ocelot, and margay, natives of the New. These three last appear to be
miniatures of the former, and which, having neither their size nor
strength, are as timid and cowardly in proportion as the others are
bold and intrepid.
There is another animal of this class which the furriers call
_Guepard_. We have seen many of their skins, and they have a
resemblance to the lynx in the length of the hair; but the ears not
being terminated by a brush of hair, the guepard cannot be a lynx.
Neither is he a panther nor a leopard; for his hair is not so short
as that of those animals, and he differs from all of them by a kind
of mane, about four or five inches long on his neck, and between his
shoulders. The hair on his belly is also three or four inches long, and
his tail much shorter in proportion than that of the leopard, panther,
or ounce. He is nearly of the size of the last animal, not being
above three feet and a half long. He is of a very pale yellow colour,
sprinkled with black spots like the leopard, but closer to each other,
and much smaller.
I thought this animal might be the same as that which Kolbe mentions by
the name of the _tiger-wolf_. He is common in the countries bordering
on the Cape of Good Hope. He remains all the day in the clefts of the
rocks, or in holes which he digs in the ground. In the night he seeks
for prey, but as he howls when in search of game, he warns men and
animals of his approach; so that it is very easy to avoid, or to kill
him. The name _guepard_, is apparently derived from the word _lepard_;
the mode in which the German and Dutch spell _leopard_. We have also
observed there are many varieties in this species, both in respect to
the ground colour, and that of the spots; but every _guepard_ has the
common character of long hairs on the belly, and a mane on the neck.
SUPPLEMENT.
M. de la Borde, in treating of the tiger-cat of Cayenne, says, he has a
skin spotted very much like that of the ounce; that he is smaller than
the fox, but whom he much resembles in habits and disposition; that he
generally resides in the woods, and lives chiefly on the game which he
destroys; as he climbs trees with great facility, he seizes their young
in their nests, and upon the branches of trees he lies in wait for his
prey; he rather leaps than walks, and yet does not proceed very fast;
that at Cayenne they keep these animals chained in their houses; and
the utmost degree they seem to be tamed, is to suffer themselves to be
stroked on the back; they are there fed with fish or flesh, and will
not take any other kind of food; and that they bring forth as well in
the winter as summer, and generally two at a time.
M. Colinson mentions another species of tiger-cat as a native of
Carolina, and of whom he has given me the following description: "The
size of the male was nineteen inches from the nose to the tail; the
latter of which was four inches long, and was encircled with eight
white rings; his principal colour was a light brown mixed with grey,
with black stripes along his sides; his belly was inclined to white
sprinkled with black spots, as were also his legs, which were very
slight; his ears were very open and covered with hair; under his eyes
were two large black spots, and beneath them a tuft of stiff black
hairs. The female was of a less make; she was more inclined to red, and
had no black spots, except a single one on the belly."
THE JACKAL, AND THE ADIL.
We are not certain whether these two names denote animals of different
species; we only know that the jackal (_fig. 181._) is larger, more
ferocious, and more difficult to be tamed, than the adil; but in other
respects they bear a perfect resemblance. The adil, therefore, may
possibly be the jackal become smaller, weaker, and more gentle, than
the wild race, from being tamed and rendered domestic; for the adil
is nearly the same, with respect to the jackal, as the lap-dog, or the
little water spaniel, is to the shepherd's dog. However, as this fact
is only exemplified in a few particular instances; as the jackal is
not, in general, domestic like the dog, and, as such great differences
are seldom found in a free species, we are inclined to believe that
the jackal and the adil are really two distinct species. The wolf,
the fox, the jackal, and the dog, though they approach very nigh each
other, form four distinct species. The varieties in the dog species
are very numerous; the greatest part of which seems to proceed from
their domestic state, to which they have been so long subjected. Man
has multiplied the race in this species by mixing the great with the
small, the handsome with the ugly, the long haired with the short,
&c. But there are many varieties in the dog species, independently of
those races produced by the care of man, which seem to derive their
origin from the climate. The English bull-dog, the Danish dog, the
spaniel, the Turkish dog, the Siberian dog, and others, derive their
names from the countries of which they are natives; and there seems to
be greater differences between them than between the jackal and the
adil. The jackals, therefore, may have undergone several changes from
the influence of different climates; and which supposition corresponds
with the facts we have collected. From the writings of travellers it
appears, that there are different sized jackals in all parts, that in
Armenia, Silesia, Persia, and in all that part of Asia, called the
Levant, where this species is very numerous, troublesome, and very
hurtful; they are generally about the size of our foxes; but their legs
are shorter, and the colour of their hair is of a glossy and bright
yellow; and this is the reason why they have been called the _yellow_,
or _golden wolf_. This species seem to have undergone many varieties in
Barbary, the East Indies, the Cape of Good Hope, and in other provinces
of Africa and Asia. In these hot countries they are large, and their
hair is rather of a reddish brown than of a beautiful yellow; and some
of them are of different colours. The species of the jackal is spread
all over Asia, from Armenia to Malabar; and is found also in Arabia,
Barbary, Mauritania, Guinea, and at the Cape of Good Hope. It seems to
supply the place of the wolf, which is wanting, or at least, is very
scarce in all these hot countries.
However, as both the jackal and the adil are found in the same
countries; as the species cannot have been altered by a long
continuance in a domestic state, and as there is always a considerable
difference in the size, and even in the dispositions of these animals,
we shall look on them as distinct species, until it be proved that
they intermix and produce together. Our presumption on the difference
of these two species is the better founded, as it seems to agree
with the opinion of the ancients. Aristotle, after having spoken of
the wolf, the fox, and the hyaena, gives some obscure intimations
of two other animals of the same genus, one by the name of the
_panther_, and the other by that of the _thos_. The translators of
Aristotle have interpreted _panther_ by _lupus canarius_, and _thos_
by _lupus cervarius_; that is, the dog-wolf and the stag-wolf. This
interpretation sufficiently indicates, that they considered the panther
and thos to belong to the same species. But I observed, under the
article _lynx_, that the lupus cervarius of the Latins is not the thos
of the Greeks. This lupus cervarius is the same as the chaus of Pliny,
which is our lynx, and which has not a single character that agrees
with the thos. Homer, when painting the valour of Ajax, who singly
rushes among a band of Trojans, in the midst of whom Ulysses, wounded,
was engaged; compares him to a lion that suddenly springs on a troop
of the thos, surrounding a stag at bay, disperses and drives them away
as mean and contemptible animals. This word, thos, the commentator of
Homer interprets by that of panther, which he says is a kind of weak
and timid wolf: thus, the thos and panther have been considered as the
same animal by some of the ancient Greeks. But Aristotle seems to make
a distinction between them, without, however, giving them any distinct
characters. "The thos (says he) have their internal parts like those of
the wolf; they copulate like dogs, and bring forth two, three, or four
young ones at a time, which are born with their eyes shut. The body
and tail of the thos are longer than those of the dog; his legs are
shorter, but that does not prevent him from being as swift, and he can
spring much further. The lion and the thos are enemies, because they
both live upon flesh, and seek their food from the same source; hence
disputes arise between them. The thos never attacks, and is but little
afraid of the human species. He fights with the dog and the lion,
whence the lion and the thos are never seen in the same places. The
smallest thos is esteemed the best. There are two species of them, and
some authors even make three.[A]" This is all Aristotle says concerning
the thos, and he speaks still less about the panther; for he mentions
it but in one single passage in the 35th chapter of the sixth book of
his History of Animals, and there says, "the panther produces four
young ones at a time, which are born with their eyes shut like young
wolves." By comparing these passages with that of Homer, and other
Greek authors, it seems almost certain, that the thos of Aristotle is
the great jackal, and that the panther is the little jackal, or the
adil. We find, that he admits the existence of two species of thos, and
that he speaks of the panther but once, and that when treating of the
thos. It is therefore very probable, that this panther is the small
thos; and this probability seems to become almost a certainty by the
testimony of Oppian, who places the panther among the number of small
animals, such as the cat and dormice.
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CONCRETE CONSTRUCTION
METHODS AND COST
BY
HALBERT P. GILLETTE
_M. Am. Soc. C. E.; M. Am. Inst. M. E._
_Managing Editor, Engineering-Contracting_
AND
CHARLES S. HILL, C. E.
_Associate Editor, Engineering-Contracting_
NEW YORK AND CHICAGO
THE MYRON C. CLARK PUBLISHING CO.
1908
COPYRIGHT. 1908
BY
THE MYRON C. CLARK PUBLISHING CO.
Transcriber's note:
For Text: A word surrounded by a cedilla such as ~this~ signifies that
the word is bolded in the text. A word surrounded by underscores like
_this_ signifies the word is italics in the text. The italic and bold
markup for single italized letters (such as variables in equations) and
"foreign" abbreviations are deleted for easier reading.
For numbers and equations: Parentheses have been added to clarify
fractions. Underscores before bracketed numbers in equations denote a
subscript. Superscripts are designated with a caret and brackets, e.g.
11.1^{3} is 11.1 to the third power. Greek letters in equations are
translated to their English version.
Minor typos have been corrected.
PREFACE.
How best to perform construction work and what it will cost for
materials, labor, plant and general expenses are matters of vital
interest to engineers and contractors. This book is a treatise on the
methods and cost of concrete construction. No attempt has been made to
present the subject of cement testing which is already covered by Mr. W.
Purves Taylor's excellent book, nor to discuss the physical properties
of cements and concrete, as they are discussed by Falk and by Sabin, nor
to consider reinforced concrete design as do Turneaure and Maurer or
Buel and Hill, nor to present a general treatise on cements, mortars and
concrete construction like that of Reid or of Taylor and Thompson. On
the contrary, the authors have handled the subject of concrete
construction solely from the viewpoint of the builder of concrete
structures. By doing this they have been able to crowd a great amount of
detailed information on methods and costs of concrete construction into
a volume of moderate size.
Though the special information contained in the book is of most
particular assistance to the contractor or engineer engaged in the
actual work of making and placing concrete, it is believed that it will
also prove highly useful to the designing engineer and to the architect.
It seems plain that no designer of concrete structures can be a really
good designer without having a profound knowledge of methods of
construction and of detailed costs. This book, it is believed, gives
these methods and cost data in greater number and more thoroughly
analyzed than they can be found elsewhere in engineering literature.
The costs and other facts contained in the book have been collected from
a multitude of sources, from the engineering journals, from the
transactions of the engineering societies, from Government Reports and
from the personal records of the authors and of other engineers and
contractors. It is but fair to say that the great bulk of the matter
contained in the book, though portions of it have appeared previously
in other forms in the authors' contributions to the technical press, was
collected and worked up originally by the authors. Where this has not
been the case the original data have been added to and re-analyzed by
the authors. Under these circumstances it has been impracticable to give
specific credit in the pages of the book to every source from which the
authors have drawn aid. They wish here to acknowledge, therefore, the
help secured from many engineers and contractors, from the volumes of
Engineering News, Engineering Record and Engineering-Contracting, and
from the Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers and the
proceedings and papers of various other civil engineering societies and
organizations of concrete workers. The work done by these journals and
societies in gathering and publishing information on concrete
construction is of great and enduring value and deserves full
acknowledgment.
In answer to any possible inquiry as to the relative parts of the work
done by the two authors in preparing this book, they will answer that it
has been truly the labor of both in every part.
H. P. G.
C. S. H.
Chicago, Ill., April 15, 1908.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.--METHODS AND COST OF SELECTING AND PREPARING
MATERIALS FOR CONCRETE. 1
~Cement:~ Portland Cement--Natural Cement--Slag Cement--Size and Weight of
Barrels of Cement--Specifications and Testing. ~Sand:~ Properties of Good
Sand--Cost of Sand--Washing Sand; Washing with Hose; Washing with Sand
Ejectors; Washing with Tank Washers. ~Aggregates:~ Broken
Stone--Gravel--Slag and Cinders--Balanced Aggregate--Size of
Aggregate--Cost of Aggregate--Screened and Crusher Run Stone for
Concrete--Quarrying and Crushing Stone--Screening and Washing Gravel.
CHAPTER II.--THEORY AND PRACTICE OF PROPORTIONING CONCRETE. 25
~Voids:~ Voids in Sand; Effect of Mixture--Effect of Size of Grains--Voids
in Broken Stone and Gravel; Effect of Method of Loading; Test
Determinations; Specific Gravity; Effect of Hauling--Theory of the
Quantity of Cement in Mortar; Tables of Quantities in Mortar--Tables of
Quantities in Concrete--Percentage of Water in Concrete--Methods of
Measuring and Weighing; Automatic Measuring Devices.
CHAPTER III.--METHODS AND COSTS OF MAKING AND PLACING
CONCRETE BY HAND. 45
Loading into Stock Piles--Loading from Stock Piles--Transporting
Materials to Mixing Boards--Mixing--Loading and Hauling Mixed
Concrete--Dumping, Spreading and Ramming--Cost of
Superintendence--Summary of Costs.
CHAPTER IV.--METHODS AND COST OF MAKING AND PLACING
CONCRETE BY MACHINE. 61
Introduction--Conveying and Hoisting Devices--Unloading with Grab
Buckets--Inclines--Trestle and Car Plants--Cableways--Belt
Conveyors--Chutes--Methods of Charging Mixers--Charging by Gravity from
Overhead Bins; Charging with Wheelbarrows; Charging with Cars; Charging
by Shoveling; Charging with Derricks--Types of Mixers; Batch Mixers;
Chicago Improved Cube Tilting Mixer, Ransome Non-Tilting Mixer, Smith
Tilting Mixer; Continuous Mixers; Eureka Automatic Feed Mixer; Gravity
Mixers; Gilbreth Trough Mixer, Hains Gravity Mixer--Output of
Mixers--Mixer Efficiency.
CHAPTER V.--METHODS AND COST OF DEPOSITING CONCRETE
UNDER WATER AND OF SUBAQUEOUS GROUTING. 86
Introduction--Depositing in Closed Buckets; O'Rourke Bucket; Cyclopean
Bucket; Steubner Bucket--Depositing in Bags--Depositing Through a
Tremie; Charlestown Bridge; Arch Bridge Piers, France; Nussdorf Lock,
Vienna--Grouting Submerged Stone; Tests of H. F. White; Hermitage
Breakwater.
CHAPTER VI.--METHODS AND COST OF MAKING AND USING RUBBLE
AND ASPHALTIC CONCRETE. 98
Introduction--Rubble Concrete: Chattahoochee River Dam; Barossa
Dam, South Australia; other Rubble Concrete Dams, Boonton Dam,
Spier Falls Dam, Hemet Dam, Small Reservoir Dam, Boyd's Corner
Dam; Abutment for Railway Bridge; English Data, Tharsis & Calamas
Ry., Bridge Piers, Nova Scotia--Asphalt Concrete; <DW72> Paving for
Earth Dam; Base for Mill Floor.
CHAPTER VII.--METHODS AND COST OF LAYING CONCRETE IN
FREEZING WEATHER. 112
Introduction--Lowering the Freezing Point of the Mixing Water; Common
Salt (Sodium Chloride):--Freezing Temperature Chart--Heating Concrete
Materials; Portable Heaters; Heating in Stationary Bins; Other Examples
of Heating Methods, Power Plant, Billings, Mont., Wachusett Dam,
Huronian Power Co. Dam, Arch Bridge, Piano, Ill., Chicago, Burlington &
Quincy R. R. Work, Heating in Water Tank--Covering and Housing the Work;
Method of Housing in Dam, Chaudiere Falls, Quebec; Method of Housing in
Building Work.
CHAPTER VIII.--METHODS AND COST OF FINISHING CONCRETE
SURFACES 124
Imperfectly Made Forms--Imperfect Mixing and
Placing--Efflorescence--Spaded and Troweled Finishes--Plaster and Stucco
Finish--Mortar and Cement Facing--Special Facing Mixtures for Minimizing
Form Marks--Washes--Finishing by Scrubbing and Washing--Finishing by
Etching with Acid--Tooling Concrete Surfaces--Gravel or Pebble Surface
Finish-- Facing.
CHAPTER IX.--METHODS AND COST OF FORM CONSTRUCTION 136
Introduction--Effect of Design on Form Work--Kind of Lumber--Finish and
Dimensions of Lumber--Computation of Forms--Design and
Construction--Unit Construction of Forms--Lubrication of
Forms--Falsework and Bracing--Time for and Method of Removing
Forms--Estimating and Cost of Form Work.
CHAPTER X.--METHODS AND COST OF CONCRETE PILE AND PIER
CONSTRUCTION 151
Introduction--Molding Piles in Place; Method of Constructing Raymond
Piles; Method of Constructing Simplex Piles; Method of Constructing
Piles with Enlarged Footings; Method of Constructing Piles
by the Compressol System; Method of Constructing Piers in Caissons--Molding
Piles for Driving--Driving Molded Piles: Method and Cost
of Molding and Jetting Piles for an Ocean Pier; Method of Molding
and Jetting Square Piles for a Building Foundation; Method of Molding
and Jetting Corrugated Piles for a Building Foundation; Method of
Molding and Driving Round Piles; Molding and Driving Square Piles
for a Building Foundation; Method of Molding and Driving Octagonal
Piles--Method and Cost of Making Reinforced Piles by Rolling.
CHAPTER XI.--METHODS AND COST OF HEAVY CONCRETE WORK
IN FORTIFICATIONS, LOCKS, DAMS, BREAKWATERS AND
PIERS 184
Introduction--Fortification Work: Gun Emplacement, Staten Island, N. Y.,
Mortar Battery Platform, Tampa Bay, Fla., Emplacement for Battery, Tampa
Bay, Fla.; U. S. Fortification Work--Lock Walls, Cascades Canal--Locks,
Coosa River, Alabama--Lock Walls, Illinois & Mississippi Canal--Hand
Mixing and Placing Canal Lock Foundations--Breakwater at Marquette,
Mich.--Breakwater, Buffalo, N. Y.--Breakwater, Port Col | 1,372.459585 |
2023-11-16 18:39:56.4424510 | 2,436 | 28 |
Produced by David Widger
THE WEAVERS
By Gilbert Parker
CONTENTS
BOOK I
I. AS THE SPIRIT MOVED
II. THE GATES OF THE WORLD
III. BANISHED
IV. THE CALL
BOOK II
V. THE WIDER WAY
VI. "HAST THOU NEVER BILLED A MANY"
VII. THE COMPACT
VIII. FOR HIS SOUL'S SAKE AND THE LAND'S SAKE
IX. THE LETTER, THE NIGHT, AND THE WOMAN
X. THE FOUR WHO KNEW
XI. AGAINST THE HOUR OF MIDNIGHT
XII. THE JEHAD AND THE LIONS
XIII. ACHMET THE ROPEMAKER STRIKES
XIV. BEYOND THE PALE
BOOK III
XV. SOOLSBY'S HAND UPON THE CURTAIN
XVI. THE DEBT AND THE ACCOUNTING
XVII. THE WOMAN OF THE CROSS-ROADS
XVIII. TIME, THE IDOL-BREAKER
XIX. SHARPER THAN A SWORD
XX. EACH AFTER HIS OWN ORDER
XXI. "THERE IS NOTHING HIDDEN WHICH SHALL NOT BE REVEALED"
XXII. AS IN A GLASS DARKLY
XXIII. THE TENTS OF CUSHAN
XXIV. THE QUESTIONER
XXV. THE VOICE THROUGH THE DOOR
XXVI. "I OWE YOU NOTHING"
XXVII. THE AWAKENING
BOOK IV
XXVIII. NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW
XXIX. THE RECOIL
XXX. LACEY MOVES
XXXI. THE STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT
XXXII. FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE
XXXIII. THE DARK INDENTURE
XXXIV. NAHOUM DROPS THE MASK
BOOK V
XXXV. THE FLIGHT OF THE WOUNDED
XXXVI. "IS IT ALWAYS SO-IN LIFE?"
XXXVII. THE FLYING SHUTTLE
XXXVIII. JASPER KIMBER SPEAKS
XXXIX. FAITH JOURNEYS TO LONDON
BOOK VI
XL. HYLDA SEEKS NAHOUM
XLI. IN THE LAND OF SHINAR
XLII. THE LOOM OF DESTINY
INTRODUCTION
When I turn over the hundreds of pages of this book, I have a feeling
that I am looking upon something for which I have no particular
responsibility, though it has a strange contour of familiarity. It is as
though one looks upon a scene in which one had lived and moved, with the
friendly yet half-distant feeling that it once was one's own possession
but is so no longer. I should think the feeling to be much like that of
the old man whose sons, gone to distant places, have created their
own plantations of life and have themselves become the masters of
possessions. Also I suppose that when I read the story through again
from the first page to the last, I shall recreate the feeling in which
I lived when I wrote it, and it will become a part of my own identity
again. That distance between himself and his work, however, which
immediately begins to grow as soon as a book leaves the author's hands
for those of the public, is a thing which, I suppose, must come to one
who produces a work of the imagination. It is no doubt due to the fact
that every piece of art which has individuality and real likeness to
the scenes and character it is intended to depict is done in a kind of
trance. The author, in effect, self-hypnotises himself, has created
an atmosphere which is separate and apart from that of his daily
surroundings, and by virtue of his imagination becomes absorbed in
that atmosphere. When the book is finished and it goes forth, when the
imagination is relaxed and the concentration of mind is withdrawn, the
atmosphere disappears, and then. One experiences what I feel when I take
up 'The Weavers' and, in a sense, wonder how it was done, such as it is.
The frontispiece of the English edition represents a scene in the House
of Commons, and this brings to my mind a warning which was given me
similar to that on my entering new fields outside the one in which
I first made a reputation in fiction. When, in a certain year, I
determined that I would enter the House of Commons I had many friends
who, in effect, wailed and gnashed their teeth. They said that it would
be the death of my imaginative faculties; that I should never write
anything any more; that all the qualities which make literature living
and compelling would disappear. I thought this was all wrong then, and
I know it is all wrong now. Political life does certainly interfere
with the amount of work which an author may produce. He certainly cannot
write a book every year and do political work as well, but if he does
not attempt to do the two things on the same days, as it were, but in
blocks of time devoted to each separately and respectively, he will
only find, as I have found, that public life the conflict of it, the
accompanying attrition of mind, the searching for the things which will
solve the problems of national life, the multitudinous variations of
character with which one comes in contact, the big issues suddenly
sprung upon the congregation of responsible politicians, all are
stimulating to the imagination, invigorating to the mind, and
marvellously freshening to every literary instinct. No danger to the
writer lies in doing political work, if it does not sap his strength
and destroy his health. Apart from that, he should not suffer. The very
spirit of statesmanship is imagination, vision; and the same quality
which enables an author to realise humanity for a book is necessary for
him to realise humanity in the crowded chamber of a Parliament.
So far as I can remember, whatever was written of The Weavers, no critic
said that it lacked imagination. Some critics said it was too crowded
with incident; that there was enough incident in it for two novels; some
said that the sweep was too wide, but no critic of authority declared
that the book lacked vision or the vivacity of a living narrative. It
is not likely that I shall ever write again a novel of Egypt, but I have
made my contribution to Anglo-Egyptian literature, and I do not think I
failed completely in showing the greatness of soul which enabled one man
to keep the torch of civilisation, of truth, justice, and wholesome love
alight in surroundings as offensive to civilisation as was Egypt in the
last days of Ismail Pasha--a time which could be well typified by the
words put by Bulwer Lytton in the mouth of Cardinal Richelieu:
"I found France rent asunder,
Sloth in the mart and schism in the temple;
Broils festering to rebellion; and weak laws
Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths.
I have re-created France; and, from the ashes
Of the old feudal and decrepit carcase,
Civilisation on her luminous wings
Soars, phoenix-like, to Jove!"
Critics and readers have endeavoured to identify the main
characteristics of The Weavers with figures in Anglo-Egyptian and
official public life. David Claridge was, however, a creature of the
imagination. It has been said that he was drawn from General Gordon. I
am not conscious of having taken Gordon for David's prototype, though,
as I was saturated with all that had been written about Gordon, there
is no doubt that something of that great man may have found its way
into the character of David Claridge. The true origin of David Claridge,
however, may be found in a short story called 'All the World's Mad', in
Donovan Pasha, which was originally published by Lady Randolph Churchill
in an ambitious but defunct magazine called 'The Anglo-Saxon Review'.
The truth is that David Claridge had his origin in a fairly close
understanding of, and interest in, Quaker life. I had Quaker relatives
through the marriage of a connection of my mother, and the original of
Benn Claridge, the uncle of David, is still alive, a very old man, who
in my boyhood days wore the broad brim and the straight preacher-like
coat of the old-fashioned Quaker. The grandmother of my wife was also a
Quaker, and used the "thee" and "thou" until the day of her death.
Here let me say that criticism came to me from several quarters both
in England and America on the use of these words thee and thou, and
statements were made that the kind of speech which I put into David
Claridge's mouth was not Quaker speech. For instance, they would not
have it that a Quaker would say, "Thee will go with me"--as though they
were ashamed of the sweet inaccuracy of the objective pronoun being used
in the nominative; but hundreds of times I have myself heard Quakers
use "thee" in just such a way in England and America. The facts are,
however, that Quakers differ extensively in their habits, and there grew
up in England among the Quakers in certain districts a sense of shame
for false grammar which, to say the least, was very childish. To be
deliberately and boldly ungrammatical, when you serve both euphony and
simplicity, is merely to give archaic charm, not to be guilty of an
offence. I have friends in Derbyshire who still say "Thee thinks,"
etc., and I must confess that the picture of a Quaker rampant over my
deliberate use of this well-authenticated form of speech produced to
my mind only the effect of an infuriated sheep, when I remembered the
peaceful attribute of Quaker life and character. From another quarter
came the assurance that I was wrong when I set up a tombstone with a
name upon it in a Quaker graveyard. I received a sarcastic letter from
a lady on the borders of Sussex and Surrey upon this point, and I
immediately sent her a first-class railway ticket to enable her to visit
the Quaker churchyard at Croydon, in Surrey, where dead and gone Quakers
have tombstones by the score, and inscriptions on them also. It is a
good thing to be accurate; it is desperately essential in a novel.
The average reader, in his triumph at discovering some slight error of
detail, would consign a masterpiece of imagination, knowledge of life
and character to the rubbish-heap.
I believe that 'The Weavers' represents a wider outlook of life, closer
understanding of the problems which perplex society, and a clearer
view of the verities than any previous book written by me, whatever its
popularity | 1,372.462491 |
2023-11-16 18:39:56.5344300 | 127 | 12 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy
of the Digital Library@Villanova University
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
HENRY RUFFIN AND ANDRÉ TUDESQ
THE
SQUARE JAW
[Illustration]
THOMAS NELSON & SONS, LTD
35 & 36 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
EDINBURGH NEW YORK PARIS
Price One Shilling
THE SQUARE JAW | 1,372.55447 |
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Woman's Work in
English Fiction
From the Restoration to the
Mid-Victorian Period
By
Clara H. Whitmore, A.M.
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1910
COPYRIGHT, 1909
BY
CLARA H. WHITMORE
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
PREFACE
The writings of many of the women considered in this volume have sunk
into an oblivion from which their intrinsic merit should have preserved
them. This is partly due to the fact that nearly all the | 1,372.555504 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.0452080 | 1,122 | 12 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Scamp and I
A Story of City By-Ways
By L.T. Meade
Published by John F. Shaw and Co, 40 Paternoster Row, London EC.
This edition dated 1891.
Scamp and I, by L.T. Meade.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
SCAMP AND I, BY L.T. MEADE.
CHAPTER ONE.
I'D CHOOSE TO BE A QUEEN.
The time was the height of the London season for 1875; the height of
that gay time when the parks, and streets, and shops are full, when
pleasure-promoters are busy keeping up a fresh supply of every form of
entertainment, when pleasure-seekers are flocking to the garden parties,
and strawberry parties, the operas, and theatres, and all other
amusements provided for them; when the world--the world at least of
Regent Street, and Piccadilly, of Eaton Square, and all Belgravia--looks
so rich and prosperous, so full of life and all that makes life
enjoyable.
It was that gay time when no one thinks of gloom, when ambitious men
dream of fame, and vain women of vanity, when the thoughtless think less
than any other time, and when money seems to be the one god that rules
in every breast.
This was the time in the merry month of May, when one afternoon, at the
hour when Regent Street is brightest and fullest, a little ragged urchin
of about ten pushed his way boldly through the crowd of carriages and
people surrounding Swan and Edgar's, and began staring eagerly and
fearlessly in at the windows.
He was the only ragged child, the only representative of poverty, within
sight, and he looked singularly out of place, quite a little shadow in
the midst of the splendid carriages, and brilliant and prosperous men
and women.
The few who noticed him wondered languidly what brought him there, why
he intruded his disreputable little person in the midst of scenes and
people with which he never had, and never could have, anything in
common.
The little fellow seemed to guess the thoughts which a few in the crowd
favoured him with, and in his own way to resent them. In and out among
the rich and fashionable people his small head kept bobbing, his agile
body kept pushing.
He avoided the police, he escaped unhurt from under the impatient
horses' legs, he was never stationary, and yet he was always there. He
pressed his dirty little form against more than one fine lady's dress,
and received more than one sharp reprimand, and sharper tap on the head,
from the powdered and liveried footmen.
Still he held his ground and remained faithful to Swan and Edgar's. He
was a dirty, troublesome little imp, but on his worn and prematurely old
face might have been seen a curious, bright expression. Those who
looked at him might have pronounced him hungry, certainly poor, but, for
the time being, not at all unhappy.
Round and round the splendid establishment he dodged rather than walked,
examining with a critical eye the mantles and costumes on view in the
windows; then he carefully looked over and reckoned the carriages, gazed
up with a full, bright, impudent stare into the face of more than one
proud and titled dame, and at last, apparently satisfied, turned his
back on the gay shop and gay crowd, and set off down Regent Street at a
swinging pace. Presently, by means of a series of short cuts, he found
himself in Old Compton Street, from thence he proceeded through Seven
Dials into a street which we will call Duncan Street.
He had come this distance very quickly, and had withstood several
temptations to linger on his road. A band of musical <DW65>s, who
danced, and sang, and played the bones, had waylaid him in vain; his own
particular chum, Jenks, had met him, and called to him to stop, but he
had not obeyed; the shrimp man, who always gave him a handful, had come
directly in his path. He had paused for nothing, and now dashing
headlong, not into a house, but through a hole in the pavement, down a
slippery ladder, into a cellar, he called out "Flo."
From the bright sunshine outside, the gloom of this Place, lit by the
flickering flame of one tallow candle, was profound. Its roof was on a
level with the road, its floor several feet below the gas-pipes and
sewage; it had no window, and its only means of light and ventilation
was through the narrow opening in the pavement, against which a ladder
was placed.
The ragged boy, rushing down these steps, made his way to a cobbler's
stool, in the middle of the room, on which was seated a little girl
busily repairing an old boot, while a heap of boots and shoes,
apparently in the last stage of decay, were scattered round her | 1,373.065248 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.0453890 | 1,638 | 6 |
Produced by Curtis Weyant, Jeannie Howse and the PG Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS
BY
T. DE WITT TALMAGE, D.D.
AUTHOR OF
"_CRUMBS SWEPT UP_," "_THE ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SOCIETY_," etc.
Delivered in the Brooklyn Tabernacle.
VOL. I
NEW YORK:
GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER,
17 TO 27 VANDEWATER STREET.
1886.
[Illustration: T. De Witt Talmage]
_Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by_
GEORGE MUNRO, _in the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
Washington, D.C._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
BRAWN AND MUSCLE 7
THE PLEIADES AND ORION 21
THE QUEEN'S VISIT 34
VICARIOUS SUFFERING 45
POSTHUMOUS OPPORTUNITY 59
THE LORD'S RAZOR 72
WINDOWS TOWARD JERUSALEM 83
STORMED AND TAKEN 95
ALL THE WORLD AKIN 108
A MOMENTOUS QUEST 119
THE GREAT ASSIZE 134
THE ROAD TO THE CITY 147
THE RANSOMLESS 158
THE THREE GROUPS 171
THE INSIGNIFICANT 184
THE THREE RINGS 197
HOW HE CAME TO SAY IT 209
CASTLE JESUS 221
STRIPPING THE SLAIN 233
SOLD OUT 246
SUMMER TEMPTATIONS 259
THE BANISHED QUEEN 274
THE DAY WE LIVE IN 285
CAPITAL AND LABOR 297
DESPOTISM OF THE NEEDLE 311
TOBACCO AND OPIUM 325
WHY ARE SATAN AND SIN PERMITTED? 339
BRAWN AND MUSCLE.
"And Samson went down to Timnath."--JUDGES xiv: 1.
There are two sides to the character of Samson. The one phase of his
life, if followed into the particulars, would administer to the
grotesque and the mirthful; but there is a phase of his character
fraught with lessons of solemn and eternal import. To these graver
lessons we devote our morning sermon.
This giant no doubt in early life gave evidences of what he was to be.
It is almost always so. There were two Napoleons--the boy Napoleon and
the man Napoleon--but both alike; two Howards--the boy Howard and the
man Howard--but both alike; two Samsons--the boy Samson and the man
Samson--but both alike. This giant was no doubt the hero of the
playground, and nothing could stand before his exhibitions of youthful
prowess. At eighteen years of age he was betrothed to the daughter of
a Philistine. Going down toward Timnath, a lion came out upon him,
and, although this young giant was weaponless, he seized the monster
by the long mane and shook him as a hungry hound shakes a March hare,
and made his bones crack, and left him by the wayside bleeding under
the smiting of his fist and the grinding heft of his heel.
There he stands, looming up above other men, a mountain of flesh, his
arms bunched with muscle that can lift the gate of a city, taking an
attitude defiant of everything. His hair had never been cut, and it
rolled down in seven great plaits over his shoulders, adding to his
bulk, fierceness, and terror. The Philistines want to conquer him, and
therefore they must find out where the secret of his strength lies.
There is a dissolute woman living in the valley of Sorek by the name
of Delilah. They appoint her the agent in the case. The Philistines
are secreted in the same building, and then Delilah goes to work and
coaxes Samson to tell what is the secret of his strength. "Well," he
says, "if you should take seven green withes such as they fasten wild
beasts with and put them around me I should be perfectly powerless."
So she binds him with the seven green withes. Then she claps her hands
and says: "They come--the Philistines!" and he walks out as though
they were no impediment. She coaxes him again, and says: "Now tell me
the secret of this great strength?" and he replies: "If you should
take some ropes that have never been used and tie me with them I
should be just like other men." She ties him with the ropes, claps her
hands, and shouts: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out as
easily as he did before--not a single obstruction. She coaxes him
again, and he says: "Now, if you should take these seven long plaits
of hair, and by this house-loom weave them into a web, I could not get
away." So the house-loom is rolled up, and the shuttle flies backward
and forward and the long plaits of hair are woven into a web. Then she
claps her hands, and says: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out
as easily as he did before, dragging a part of the loom with him.
But after awhile she persuades him to tell the truth. He says: "If you
should take a razor or shears and cut off this long hair, I should be
powerless and in the hands of my enemies." Samson sleeps, and that she
may not wake him up during the process of shearing, help is called in.
You know that the barbers of the East have such a skillful way of
manipulating the head to this very day that, instead of waking up a
sleeping man, they will put a man wide awake sound asleep. I hear the
blades of the shears grinding against each other, and I see the long
locks falling off. The shears or razor accomplishes what green withes
and new ropes and house-loom could not do. Suddenly she claps her
hands, and says: "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" He rouses up
with a struggle, but his strength is all gone. He is in the hands of
his enemies.
I hear the groan of the giant as they take his eyes out, and then I
see him staggering on in his blindness, feeling his way as he goes on
toward Gaza. The prison door is open, and the giant is thrust in. He
sits down and puts his hands on the mill-crank, which, with exhausting
horizontal motion, goes day after day, week after week, month after
month--work, work, work! The consternation of the world in captivity,
his locks shorn, his eyes punctured, grinding corn in Gaza!
I. First of all, behold in this giant of the text that physical power
is not always an index of moral power. He was a huge man--the lion
found it out, and the three thousand men whom he slew found it out;
yet he was the subject of petty revenges and out-gianted by | 1,373.065429 |
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 4. SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1840. VOLUME 1.
[Illustration: CAISLEAN-NA-CIRCE, OR THE HEN'S CASTLE.]
Our prefixed illustration gives a near view of one of the most
interesting ruins now remaining in the romantic region of Connemara, or
the Irish Highlands, and which is no less remarkable for its great
antiquity than for the singularly wild and picturesque character of its
situation, and that of its surrounding scenery. It is the feature that
gives poetic interest to the most beautiful portion of Lough Corrib--its
upper extremity--where a portion of the lake, about three miles in
length, is apparently surrounded and shut in by the rocky and precipitous
mountains of Connemara and the Joyce country, which it reflects upon its
surface, without any object to break their shadows, or excite a feeling
of human interest, but the one little lonely Island-Castle of the Hen.
That an object thus situated--having no accompaniments around but those
in keeping with it--should, in the fanciful traditions of an imaginative
people, be deemed to have had a supernatural origin, is only what might
have been naturally expected; and such, indeed, is the popular belief. If
we inquire of the peasantry its origin, or the origin of its name, the
ready answer is given, that it was built by enchantment in one night by a
cock and a hen grouse, who had been an Irish prince and princess!
There is, indeed, among some of the people of the district a dim
tradition of its having been erected as a fastness by an O'Conor, King
of Connaught, and some venture to conjecture that this king was no other
than the unfortunate Roderick, the last King of Ireland; and that the
castle was intended by him to serve as a place of refuge and safety, to
which he could retire by boat, if necessity required, from the
neighbouring monastery of Cong, in which he spent the last few years of
his life: and it is only by this supposition that they can account for
the circumstance of a castle being erected by the O'Conors in the very
heart of a district which they believe to have been in the possession of
the O'Flahertys from time immemorial. But this conjecture is wholly
erroneous, and the true founders and age of this castle are to be found
in our authentic but as yet unpublished Annals, from which it appears
certain that the Hen's Castle was one of several fortresses erected, with
the assistance of Richard de Burgo, Lord of Connaught, and Lord Justice
of Ireland, by the sons of Roderick, the last monarch of the kingdom. It
is stated in the Annals of Connaught, and in the Annals of the Four
Masters, at the year 1225, that Hugh O'Conor (son of Cathal Crovedearg),
King of Connaught, and the Lord Justice of Ireland, Richard De Burgo,
arriving with their English at the Port of Inis Creamha, on the east side
of Lough Corrib, caused Hugh O'Flaherty, the Lord of West Connaught, to
surrender the island of Inis Creamha, Oilen-na-Circe, or the Hen's
Island, and all the vessels of the lake, into Hugh O'Conor's hands, for
assurance of his fidelity.
From this entry it would appear that the Hen's Island, as well as the
island called Inis Creamha, had each a castle on it previously; and this
conclusion is strengthened by a subsequent entry in the same Annals, at
the year 1233, from which it appears that this castle, as well as others,
had been erected by the sons of Roderick, who had been long in contention
for the government with Cathal Crovedearg, and his sons Hugh and Felim,
and had, during these troubles, possessed themselves of O'Flaherty's
country. On the death of Hugh O'Conor, who was treacherously slain by
Geoffry De Mares, or De Marisco, in 1228, they appear to have again
seized on the strongholds of the country, that of the Hen's Castle among
the rest, and to have retained them till 1233, when their rival Felim
O'Conor finally triumphed, and broke down their castles. This event is
thus narrated in the Annals of the Four Masters:--
"1233. Felim, the son of Charles the Red-handed, led an array into
Connaught. Cormac, the son of Tomaltagh (Lord of Moylurg), went to meet
him, and brought him to Moylurg, where they erected a camp at Druim
Greagraighe, and were joined by Cormac, by Conor his son, the inhabitants
of the three Tuathas, and by the two sons of Mortogh Mac Dermot, Donogh
and Mortogh. They here consulted with each other, and resolved upon going
in pursuit of Hugh (King of Connaught) and the other sons of Roderic.
After overtaking them, they defeated Hugh, slew himself, his brother,
Hugh Muimhneach his son, and Donogh More, the son of Dermot, who was the
son of Roderic, and many others besides. There were also slain Raghallach
O'Flanigan, Thomas Biris, Constable of Ireland, his relative John Guer,
and many other Englishmen. This was after the bells and croziers had been
rung against them, after they had been cursed and excommunicated by the
clergy of Connaught; for Hugh Muimhneach had violated and plundered
Tibohine and many other churches, so that he and his adherents fell in
revenge of their dishonour to the saints whose churches they had
violated. The kingdom and sovereignty of Connaught were wrested from the
sons of Roderic, the son of Torlogh, on that day. Felim, the son of
Charles the Red-handed, then assumed the government of Connaught, _and
demolished the castles which had been erected by the power of the sons of
Roderic O'Conor and Mac William Burke_, namely, the Castle of Bon
Gaillimbe, _Caislen-na-Circe_, Caislen-na-Caillighe, and the Castle of
Dunamon."
In subsequent times the Hen's Castle reverted to the O'Flahertys, and was
repaired and garrisoned by them till the time of Cromwell, when, as we
are informed by Roderick O'Flaherty, it was finally dismantled and left
to decay. Still, however, enough remains to exhibit its original plan,
which was that of an Anglo-Norman castle or keep, in the form of a
parallelogram, with three projecting towers on its two longest sides; and
the architectural features of the thirteenth century are also visible in
some of its beautifully executed windows and doorways.
The Hen's Castle is not without its legendary traditions connected with
its history anterior to its dilapidation; and the following outline of
one of these--and the latest--as told at the cottage firesides around
Lough Corrib, may be worth preserving as having a probable foundation in
truth.
It is said that during the troubled reign of Queen Elizabeth, a lady of
the O'Flahertys, who was an heiress and a widow, with an only child, a
daughter, to preserve her property from the grasp of her own family and
that of the De Burgos or Burkes, shut herself up with her child in the
Hen's Castle, attended by twenty faithful followers, of tried courage and
devotion to her service, of her own and her husband's family. As such a
step was, however, pregnant with danger to herself, by exciting the
attention and alarm of the government and local authorities, and
furnishing her enemies with an excuse for aggression, she felt it
necessary to obtain the queen's sanction to her proceedings; and
accordingly she addressed a letter to her majesty, requesting her
permission to arm her followers, and alleging as a reason for it, the
disaffected state of the country, and her ardent desire to preserve its
peace for her majesty. The letter, after the fashion of the times, was
not signed by the lady in her acquired matron's name, but in her maiden
one, of which no doubt she was more proud; it was Bivian or Bevinda
O'Flaherty. The queen received it graciously; but not being particularly
well acquainted with the gender of Irish Christian names, and never
suspecting, from the style or matter of the epistle, that it had emanated
from one of her own sex, she returned an answer, written with her own
hand, authorising her good friend "Captain Bivian O'Flaherty" to retain
twenty men at her majesty's expense, for the preservation of the peace of
the country; and they were maintained accordingly, till the infant
heiress, becoming adult, was united to Thomas Blake, the ancestor of the
present Sir John Blake of Menlo Castle, and proprietor of the Castle of
the Hen.
To these brief notices of an ancient castle, not hitherto described, or
its age ascertained, we shall only add, that there are few military
structures of lime and stone now remaining in Ireland that can boast an
equal antiquity.
P.
OCCUPATIONS FOR THE YOUNG.
BY MARTIN DOYLE.
Habit is said to be a second nature, and it is often stronger than the
first. At first we easily take the bend from the hand of the master, but
the second nature, which is of our own making, is frequently proof
against any alteration. How important, then, is _education_, which gives
the turn and moulding to the mind while it is flexible, fixes the habits,
and forms the character! The discipline of the mind, with respect to its
natural bias, is either misdirected or misunderstood in nine cases out of
ten, and latent talents or tendencies, which by proper culture might be
rendered sources of enjoyment to the possessor, and useful to the
community, are restrained, if not too powerful for suppression, from
their proper developement, by absurd and artificial treatment.
In the upper classes, a parent, perhaps, incapable of estimating the
capacity of his son, determines with himself that the profession, suppose
of divinity, of law, or | 1,373.066396 |
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Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's Note:
Page scan source:
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE VILLA ON THE RHINE
Leisure Hour Series, 2 vols. 16mo. $2.00
HENRY HOLT & CO., NEW YORK
ON THE HEIGHTS
_A NOVEL_
BY
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
TRANSLATED BY
SIMON ADLER STERN
| 1,373.158427 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.2366380 | 167 | 17 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Library of Early Journals.)
[Transcriber's note: Characters with macrons have been marked in
brackets with an equal sign, as [=e] for a letter e with a macron on
top. Underscores have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts; equal signs
indicate =bold= fonts. Original spelling variations have not been
standardized. A list of volumes and pages in "Notes and Queries" has
been added at the end.]
NOTES and QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION
FOR
LITERARY MEN, ART | 1,373.256678 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.2377740 | 7,415 | 64 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's Note:
1. Page scan source:
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2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
THE
STUDENT-LIFE OF GERMANY.
THE
STUDENT-LIFE OF GERMANY:
BY WILLIAM HOWITT.
AUTHOR OF "THE RURAL LIFE OF ENGLAND," "BOOK OF THE SEASONS," ETC.
FROM THE UNPUBLISHED MS. OF DR. CORNELIUS.
CONTAINING NEARLY FORTY OF THE
MOST FAMOUS STUDENT SONGS.
[Illustration]
THINK OFT, YE BRETHREN;
THINK OF THE GLADNESS OF OUR YOUTHFUL PRIME,--
IT COMETH NOT AGAIN,--THAT GOLDEN TIME!
The Commers Book.
PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY AND HART.
MDCCCXLII.
C. Sherman &, Co. Printers, 19 St. James Street
"How shall I call thee, thou high, thou rough, thou noble, thou
barbaric, thou loveable, unharmonious, song-full, repelling, yet
refreshing life of the Burschen years? How shall I describe you, ye
golden hours, ye choral-songs of brotherly love? What tone shall
I give to you to make myself understood? What colours to thee, thou
never-comprehended chaos? I shall describe thee? Never! Thy ludicrous
outside lies open; the layman sees that; one can describe that to him;
but thy inner and lovely ore, the miner only knows who goes singing
with his brethren into the deep shaft. He brings up gold; pure, solid
gold; be it much or little, it is still of high value. But this is not
his whole booty. What he sees there, he may not describe to the layman:
it were all too strange, and too precious for his ear. There are
spirits in the deep that no other ear can comprehend; no other eye
perceive. Music floats through those halls, which to every uninitiated
ear sounds empty and unmeaning. But to him who has felt with it and
sung with it, it gives a peculiar consecration; when he, moreover,
smiles over the hole in his cap which he has brought back with him as a
symbol.
"Old Grandfather! now know I what thou undertook when thou held thy
annual, solitary, intercalary day! Thou too hadst thy companions in the
days of thy youth, and the water stood in thy gray eyelashes when thou
marked one in thy stambook as entombed."
_Hauff's Rathskeller in Bremen_.
PREFACE.
We have had various peeps and snatches of the Student-life of Germany,
from time to time, in our periodicals, but we have nothing like a
complete, and faithful account of it. Some of those accounts too, are
by English writers, who had at best but a partial and passing view of
this singular state of existence, and could not, however much they
might have seen of it, enter into it and comprehend it with the fulness
of apprehension and feeling which a native possesses. When I,
therefore, was thrown, on my first visit to Germany, into the midst of
its students, I began to inquire for a volume written by a German,
which should lay open the whole interior of that, whose surface was so
strange and so picturesque. I was told that no such thing, of any value
or completeness existed, and that, indeed, the students themselves were
jealous of the laws and customs of their ancient Burschendom being laid
open to the public. Yet, finding myself amongst those whose knowledge
and talents most entirely qualified them for making this exposition, I
did not cease till I had prevailed on one of the most gifted to
undertake the task, assisted by the experience of friends, who, like
himself, had passed through the mysteries of this singular life. The
present volume is the result; and I present it to the public with the
confident assurance, that whatever they may think of the portraiture,
they may depend upon its faithfulness. Spite of what that young and
popular writer, Hauff, has left on record in the extract which
immediately precedes these remarks, we have now penetrated the depths
of the Burschen-life; we have traversed its chaos, which he terms a
never-comprehended one; and have made the music of its most hidden
halls, audible and intelligible to all ears. I do not hesitate for a
moment to assert, that, taken as a whole, this volume will be found to
contain more that is entirely new and curious, than any one which has
issued from the press for years. The institutions and customs which it
describes, form the most singular state of social existence to be found
in the bosom of civilized Europe; and what renders them the more
curious and worthy of investigation is, that they are no recent and
evanescent frolic of eccentricity, but are as fast rooted into the
antiquity of German mind and manners as the universities themselves.
They have been modified and softened by time and advancing refinement,
but are not a whit nearer being rooted out, apparently, than they were
three hundred years ago. This state of things is here depicted by a
German himself, who has passed through it; and with that peculiar
feeling and appreciation which a German only can possess. It is in this
light that they are to be regarded. I do not here present myself as an
advocate or a caviller at this scheme of things, but merely as a
spectator, who, beholding something strange and curious, brings it to
the observation of his countrymen, in all truthfulness and simplicity
of representation, that they may judge of it for themselves. It has
been translated under the author's own eye, as it was written, and as
he is also acquainted with the English language, it may be reasonably
presumed to give a faithful transcript of his thoughts.
The two features of this Student-life which will meet with the most
repugnance in the English mind, are the Beer-duel, and the Sword-duel.
I have no desire to defend, far less to recommend either. I am, though
no advocate of a watery suction, miscalled Temperance, neither a
violent wine-bibber, nor "a fighting character." I do not even, like
our worthy friend Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, while planning Niger
expeditions of civilization, brew XXX in London; nor, like many of my
countrymen, while attending church, or chapel in England, insist on
bombarding the Chinese because they wont be poisoned with my opium. I
merely let the worthy and learned author tell his own tale; and he, in
telling it as a German and fellow-countryman of those concerned,
assures us that these features are daily becoming more diminished by
the progress of refinement.
It is to be hoped that the publication of this volume may even hasten
this desirable end, for no people are so much alive to the opinion of
other nations as the Germans. One thing, however, as an Englishman, I
may say, which the author could not say--and that is, that when reading
of the beer and sword duels of these students, we must take into
account what are the weapons and the perils in both cases. We are not
to suppose then, that their beer is any thing like the XXX just spoken
of, or their wine like sherry or port, three-fourths brandy. No; they
who know German wine, know that it is a very gentle and innocent,
rather acidulous, and rather cooling fluid, and that their beer is far
more mighty of the hop than of the malt. It is a well-bittered and
amiable table-beer, which even Father Mathew might take as a healthy
stomachic, and which one might rather expect, in Sam Welter's phrase,
to make its swallowers "swell wisibly before our wery eyes," than grow
riotous under its influence. When to this we add, that the sword-duel
is rather a trial of skill in fencing than any thing dangerous, and
that a scratch across the cheek, or prick into a stuffed jerkin, is in
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the worst of its accidents, fears on
the subject diminish at a rapid rate. If, however, any one thinks these
youths had better be at their books than crossing swords or swallowing
choppins, I assure him I am quite of the same opinion; and I here
exhort the students, as soon as they get this volume, which they
speedily will, to forsake the Hirschgasse and the Kneip, and follow the
advice, but not the _example_ of the English. Shall I advise them to
imitate the students of Cambridge? Let any one read "The Student-Life
of Cambridge" in a late number of the _Westminster Review_, and say
whether that would be reasonable. Shall I advise them to practise the
vice and the mockeries which are practised there, by those who give the
most public and prominent character to the social student-life of
England--for it is not meant to assert that the generality of the
Oxford and Cambridge students are of such a class? Why, Kneips and the
Hirschgasse are heaven and innocence to them. Shall I advise them to
quit their songs for the grossnesses sung by the wild portion of
the students at Cambridge and Oxford? No! the songs of the German
students, even when on no higher a theme than wine, and with the bold
free-spokenness which is startling to our modes of thinking, are the
effusions of the first spirits of their nation, and are sung to some of
the finest melodies which ever emanated from that most musical of
people. It is here that the tables must be turned, and that we must
call on the English to imitate the Germans, and not the Germans the
English. If the English will drink, let them drink wine as cooling, and
beer as thin and bitter, as the Germans; if they will fight duels, let
them abandon bullets that fly through a man and let the soul out after
them, and be content with a scratched nose or punctured padding. If
they will sing over their wine, let them not sing the vile trash that
is heard in the haunts of our students, but the spiritual effusions of
such writers as Schiller, Goethe, Koerner, Arndt, Claudius, Hauff,
Follen, Uhland, etc. No, one cannot read of English students--of their
guzzlings and their songs--without feeling a sense of commonplaceness,
a something low, gross, unimaginative and vulgar.[1] On the
contrary, amid all the follies and mad frolics and nonsense of German
student-life--of which God knows there is plenty--he must be destitute
of poetry himself who does not feel it there. If there be a man who can
read through this volume and not feel its poetry, and not perceive the
high and beautiful sentiment which pervades it; the profound love of
nature, and the glorious love of country,--let that man march off to
Cambridge or Oxford; let him give his suppers or his breakfasts; let
him hurry in his nightgown to morning prayers; let him become a
first-rower, or a senior-wrangler if he will; but that man is no more
fit to take his stand by the student revellers of Germany, than Caliban
is by Hyperion. No, in the student-life, which is entered into as a
brief season of youthful hilarity, which in this world can come but
once; a season in which knowledge is not only to be gathered, but life
to be enjoyed--friendships for life to be knit up--love, perhaps for
life, to be kindled--and the spirit of patriotism to be cherished to a
degree which no after-chills and oppressions of ordinary life shall
ever be able utterly to extinguish; in this life there is a feeling and
a sentiment to which our student-life is a stranger. It is from the
bosom of this life that some of the noblest poets, the profoundest
philosophers, and the most devoted patriots which the world ever saw,
have gone forth. It was from the heart of this life that Theodore
Koerner sprung, for the cause of his country and mankind, and sung and
fought and died; it was from this that Goethe and Schiller, Hauff and
Tieck, and a thousand others, have issued to glorify valour, or
consecrate patriotism, or beautify the regions of the human soul by
their songs and their imaginative prose. It was from this that the
whole body of ardent youth arose, and quitting their Kneips and their
Chores, called all their country to reassert its liberty, to drive out
its foes, and at the people's head, fought with the spirit of the
ancient heroes, and chased from their soil for ever, the tyrant and
overrunner of humbled Europe.
And yet there are those who are continually forgetting these things;
asserting that all the student songs, and student clanship, and student
freedom, end in smoke and vapour, and without any permanent result, and
that they depart at the termination of their academical career their
several ways, and sink into obscurity and insignificance. What! would
they not have them become good citizens, sober judges, domestic men?
But they who say that no high effects remain, know nothing of the youth
of Germany. They cannot have seen how the new Rhine-song went through
the whole country like an electric flash when France threatened to
march to the banks of that noble river, and how every German student
vowed if such a deed were perpetrated, they would go forth and fight to
a man. They cannot know, as I do, that the loves and friendships formed
by these youths are more permanent and indissoluble than any class of
men with whom I have yet become acquainted; nor that in private
society, where, and in my own house, I have seen much of them,
they are amongst the most accomplished, gentlemanly, temperate,
correctly-mannered, cordial-hearted, and intellectual men that European
society possesses. But all such persons I willingly turn over to the
perusal of this volume, the work of a young but learned author, who has
recently passed, by a splendid examination, out of this student-life
itself without having ever fought a single duel, or very probably got
half or even quarter seas over. If the perusal of this volume should
have the good effect of lessening amongst the German youth the tendency
to the beer or the sword duel, and of inspiring our English youth with
a more intellectual and poetical taste in their pleasures, certainly we
may say, in the style of all good old prefaces, "that it will not have
been written in vain."
_Heidelberg, April 6th_, 1841.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
General Plan, Officers, and Courts, of a German University--Charm of
this life to those who have passed through it--Explanation of
the term _Bursche_, or Student--Right to found or dissolve
Universities, retained by the Sovereign Princes--Offices and mode
of government--The Curatorium--Rector, Prorector--Senate, greater
and less--Different orders of Professors and Teachers--mode of
their remuneration--University Board of Finance--its Court of
Justice--Academical freedom, and mode of matriculation--Inferior
officers, and penalties for offences against the Academical
laws--College terms--mode of Lecturing, and duties of Lecturers--
necessary Examinations of the Students, and consequent
Certificates--Sciences taught--Privileges and endowments to enable
young men without property to enjoy all the advantages of the
Universities--the great extent to which this is made available,
and great advantages to the State derived from it--Opinion of
Goethe on this head--Great Men that this has produced--no German,
however exalted in rank, can hold a high position in society,
without making himself master of the knowledge thus opened to the
people
CHAPTER II.
General View of Student-Life.--Student-life an admirable field for
bringing a young man speedily to a knowledge of life, and to a
sense of self-government and self-dependence--Prejudice,
especially amongst foreigners, that Students must become exposed
to many unpleasantnesses--these groundless--every individual
Student independent, and at liberty to associate just as little,
or as mach as he pleases with the rest--Equality the law of the
German Students--their opinion that the English are the slaves of
the Aristocracy--their surprise at the Aristocratic prejudices of
the English--Academic freedom dear to every German Student--its
value acknowledged by all the greatest men--Influence of the
associate life of the Students on their minds and manners--
including, as it does, the natives of so many Countries--Chores,
or Unions--Landsmannschafts--the Burschenschaft--Wearing of Union
Badges forbidden--Public Processions, and Costumes of the
Professors
CHAPTER III.
The Chores, or Unions.--Their nature, constitution, and
distinguishing colours--each Chore formed of the natives of a
particular State--what is requisite for the formation of a New
Chore--is acknowledged and recorded at the Allgemeine, or General
Social Meeting of the Chores--Constitution of a Chore--its
Officers, Code of Laws--its Beer-court, and Court of Honour--its
Boon-companions, and various ranks of members--its Chore-Convent,
or Board of Administration--the Proscription, or Bann, as
exercised both against Members and offending Tradesmen, or even
the University itself--Classes of Students termed Camels, etc.
etc.
CHAPTER IV.
The Burschenschaft.--The origin of this celebrated Society to be
found in the patriotic desire to free Germany from the domination
of Buonaparte--this feeling at first high and holy--quickened by
the union of Learned and Literary men in the Poet-League of
Goettengen, to advance the Language and Literature of the
Country--the triumphs of Literature at their height under Schiller
and Goethe, when the French Invasion took place--the indignant
enthusiasm excited by this on the minds of the Students--the
formation of Burschenschafts--these in different Universities
united by one general bond--their effect in rousing Germany to
the expulsion of the French--these feelings immortalized in the
songs of Theodore Koerner--the People's Battle at Leipsic--the
expulsion of the French followed by a demand for the restoration
of the Germanic Empire--Act of Confederation of the German States
signed--Formation of the Holy Alliance of Sovereigns--
Disappointment of the People--Agitations of the Burschenschaft--
Beautiful ceremonies at the celebration of the Peace Anniversary
at Jena, etc. 1816--farther proceedings of the Borschenschaft--the
celebrated Festival in the Wartburg in 1817, at which the Writings
of Kotzebue ware burnt--Congress of Universities at Jena in 1818,
and Publication of the Constitution of the Burschenschaft--the
influence of these events on the mind of George Sand, and its
consequences
CHAPTER V.
The Narrative of Sand.--His origin and education--his early enmity
to the French--his conscientious but excitable disposition--the
effect on his mind of the burning of Kotzebue's Writings--his
personal appearance--Kotzebue in the pay of Russia, to give
information of the popular movements and opinions in Germany--
Seizure and publication of one of his bulletins to that
Government, and consequent popular excitement--Sand conceives the
idea of putting Kotzebue to death, as a traitor to German
freedom--his long mental struggles against this idea--the final
surrender to it, and preparation for carrying it into effect--his
paper called "Death-blow to August Von Kotzebue"--his letter to
his parents, and brother and sisters, on setting out on this
project--his perpetration of the deed, his trial, and execution at
Mannheim--Consequence of this and similar attempts--The
prohibition of the Burschenschaft, and persecution of its
members--The Song "We Builded," etc, as sung at the breaking up
of the Burschenschaft in June in 1819
CHAPTER VI.
Ceremonial Introduction to University and Burschen Life--The Student
youth of Germany, driven from the Burschenschaft, have fallen back
on their Chore-life--Complaints of late years that youths coming
to the University become involved in the dissipations of
Chore-life, to the prevention of their studies and detriment of
health and morals--these views combated by the Author--the
existence of a temporary excitement on entering University-life
accounted for--the Author, as one who passed through this life,
testifies to its advantages--Every University its own particular
tone and character--Peep at the past Life of the Universities, as
revealed in Zacchariae's "Renommist," and in a Drawing of 1730--
Singular and rude Customs formerly practised on the admission of
Students to the Universities--Freshmen or Branen, then subjected
also to many humiliations--the present condition of the Freshman,
now termed a Fox--Curious Anecdotes connected with the condition
of a Fox--Different ranks which a Student passes through who joins
a Chore, or Verbindung--in the Gymnasium, or school preparatory to
the University, he is a Frog--then successively a Mule, a Camel, a
Fox, a Fat-Fox, a Burnt-Fox, a Young Bursch, Old Bursch, and Mossy
Head--Satirical explanation of Student terms, by Herr Schluck--
Initiatory ceremonies at a Union of the Chores on creating the
different degrees of Foxes--Singing of "The Landsfather"--The
Fox-Ride, and its accompanying song--Burning of the Burnt-Foxes,
with the accompanying song, etc.
CHAPTER VII.
The Duel.--This is a practice of the Middle Ages, that has firmly
maintained itself amongst the Students--the Author's opinion of
it--its actual good or evil in the system--to be regarded
principally as a trial of skill in fence--mode in which these
Duels are contracted, settled, conducted, and fought out--At
Heidelberg these take place in a well-known house in the
Hirschgasse--Duel Costume, and different species of Duel--Anecdote
of a little Jew who fought one--the Duel prohibited by the laws--
the Academical enactments against it--Attempts of the Beadles to
seize the Combatants--their watchers--the Red Fisherman, their
great champion--Students' dogs sometimes join in the contest--
Penalties, and University Prison
CHAPTER VIII.
Characters connecting themselves with Student Life.--The Hofrath
Diehl--his History--the Flower-Boy, and Frau Gotlieben the
Fruitwoman
CHAPTER IX.
Private Life of the Student.--Visit of Mr. Traveller, the
Englishman, to the room of the Student Freisleben--his surprise at
what he saw--his friendly welcome--Description of the Room and its
various Decorations--Student word for comfortable--the Boot-Fox--
Origin of the word _School Foxery_, or pedantry--Wages of a
Boot-Fox--Expense of Living at the University--_Pendulums_
and _Knoten_--origin of the latter term--the House Philistine
and his duties--the Philose, the Besom, the House-Bursch,
and Room-Bursch--What it means to "Tail a Lecture"--
Dissertation-on-Dogs--A visit to the annual Dog-Muster---Students'
Dogs--their characteristics--one at a duel swallows up a Student's
nose--the little Dog Tambourli--the Student's love for his Pipe--
Pipes of various kinds, and in all their parts, described--Origin
of the word Fidibus--the philosophy of Smoking
CHAPTER X.
Rural and Summer Amusements of the Student.--Beauties of the
neighbourhood of Heidelberg--The Wolfebrunnen--the surrounding
Woods and Mountains of the Odenwald and Black Forest--Historical
associations--the Student sometimes takes longer excursions than
into these scenes--Excursions in a one-engine--Water excursions--
Field sports--The Students' Shooting ground--Kirchweihs, or
Wakes, described--the Students there--Scenes which arise with the
Handwerksburschen
CHAPTER XI.
Winter Amusements of the Student.--He joins gladly Social Parties at
the houses of the Inhabitants and of the English--finds much
amusement at the Reading-rooms, Billiard-table, and Balls and
Concerts at the Museum--Serenades--Song, "The Departure"--Skating
--pushing Ladies on the Ice in Sledges--gaiety of these scenes--
sledging parties by Torch-light--Whims of the Students on such
occasions--Instances of their schemes to satirize the attempts of
the Senate to check their expense in such things--in the evening
joins his Kneip
CHAPTER XII.
The Student's Evening Party, with its Conversations, Discussions,
Songs, and Customs.--The Student Hoffman entertains his Friends--
Description of his Rooms--his Friends Freisleben, Von Kronen,
Eckhard, Enderlin, Pittschaft, Mr. Traveller--their opinion of
Englishmen and English Ladies--Melancholy story of Krusenstern and
Avensleben--The Radonen Cake--Sketch of the history of
Universities, given by Von Kronen--Discussion on Phrenology--
English and German Literature compared--German Romance ludicrously
described by Lichtenberg--the Students sing Schiller's song of
"The Four Elements," also "There Twinkle Three Stars" from
Koerner--they sing a Roundelay--Anecdotes of Stambooks--Drink to
their Ladies--Drink and sing as a Roundelay the humorous song of
"The Kraehwinkle Landsturm"--sing a Lumpitus of the first verse of
various celebrated songs in rotation--sing "The Binschgauer"--
Merriments before parting--The songs of "Ye Brothers, when no more
I'm drinking," "The Pope," "Brothers, in this Place of Festive
Meeting," "So crown with leaves the love-o'erbrimming Beakers"
CHAPTER XIII.
General System of German Education.--Glance at the progress of
popular Education, from the ancient Nations and Times down to the
present--Popular Folks'-schools of the Middle Ages--Gerbardus
Magnus--his Institution at Deventer---his ideas followed out by
Montaigne, Bacon, etc.--the Burger class erect Schools--the
Reformation--School of Conrad Celtes, for the restoration of
Classical antiquity--Services of Erasmus, Reuchlin, Dalberg,
Agricola, Pirkheimer, etc.--the origin of the plans of Pestalozzi
to be found in the writings of Ratich and Comenius--Services of
Fenelon, Spencer, and Franke--Improvements by Ziedler, Hein, and
Sulzer--Influence of Locke, Rousseau, Crousatz, in developing the
modern School-systems--Description of the German School-system,
and what is taught in each class of Schools, viz. the Elementary,
or Proper Folks'-Schools; the Real Schools, called also Middle
Schools, Higher Burger Schools, etc; the Gymnasia; the
Universities
CHAPTER XIV.
Song, an indispensable requisite to the Student, as to all
Germans.--Song and Poetry a necessity to the German--the Germans
rich in Popular Songs--Universal singing of the Common People--A
popular Song at any crisis passes like an electric flash through
the whole People--"Prince Eugene," a specimen of a class of Songs
very common amongst the People--All classes, in town or country,
have their peculiar Songs--the Student is affluent in Songs--the
Commers-Book a collection of them--Sing in their Kneips--their
Songs often heard on summer evenings in the open air with fine
effect--one of the finest "From High Olympus," etc.--the
Roundelay--the Student has his Songs of Love, Wine, Fatherland,
and Friendship--Student-life regarded as a joyous season that
comes but once, therefore they sing and rejoice in it--Accompany
their Deceased Brethren to the tomb also with Song--"Gaudeamus
igitur"
CHAPTER XV.
Drinking Customs of Student-life, ancient and modern.--The Author's
opinions on festive drinking--Song of Old Noah--Master Schluck's
persiflage on the Burschen-Comment, or Student Code of Drinking
Laws--Notice of some of the chief of the different classes of
Student Songs--"The Maiden Song" as formerly sung--account of it
in Zacchariae's Renommist--Drinking Customs of a past age in the
Universities--anecdotes of these--Phrases collected by
Lichtenberg descriptive of a Drunkard--the General Beer-Code of
Heidelberg
CHAPTER XVI.
The Commers.--The Commerses, general and special--their social
Festive Meetings, held on various occasions--Description of the
General Commers--certain Songs sung, as "Heidelberg live thou,"
etc.--the Singing of "The Consecration Song, or Landsfather," and
singular ceremonies attending it--the Ceremony of the Smollis--
Smollering constitutes a Brotherhood to last for life--Drinking
Laws of the Commers--Herr Schluck's Comments on a Commers--the
Excesses of the Ancient Commerses abandoned
CHAPTER XVII.
The Special Commers.--Description of a train of Students going out
to a Special Commers in the country--their arrival there--
description of the Room and mode of holding the Commers--Ceremony,
and Song of "The Prince of Fooling"--Frolics and Gambols of the
Students the next day in the village--An old ballad describing
these in 1650--the Commers over, they return often by water, with
music and fireworks--close it with drinking Crambambuli--the Song
of Crambambuli--The Lumpin Bell
CHAPTER XVIII.
New Year's Eve.--Spent by the Friends at the rooms of Freisleben--
Conversation sallies--Glee-wine made, and the English song, "Down
with the Sorrows," etc., by Mrs. Howitt, sung by Hoffmann to the
guitar--"The Song of Wine"--"The Table-Song," by Goethe
CHAPTER XIX.
New Year's Eve, continued.--Sketch of the History of Heidelberg
University--A Salamander rubbed to the honour of the Professors
CHAPTER XX.
New Year's Eve, continued.--University Stories--Singular Story of
the feats of activity, strength, and eccentric humour of Von
Plauen--his Banishment from the University--his Imprisonment and
Escape--Story of the Student Schwartzkopf, who became the
celebrated robber, "The Black Peter;" with his deeds, capture,
and strange final escape--Story of the Student Stark--Fire-arms
announce the entrance of the New Year, and the friends rush forth
to witness the Procession of the Students to give a "Vivat" to
their chief Professors--this described--Breaking up of the ice on
the river--the exploit of the Red Fisherman
CHAPTER XXI.
The Marching-Forth.--Modes in which the Student generally quits the
University--The Marching-Forth when the Bann is laid by the
Students on the University itself, and march forth in a body--
various instances of this--the one which arose out of the building
of the Museum in Heidelberg in 1827--the cry of "Bursch, come
forth!" raised, and all the Students, in procession, quitted the
city--the progress of negotiation and return of the Students--
Marching-Forth from Heidelberg on account of dispute with the
Military--Marching-Forth from Goettingen in 1818--progress and
event of it--An | 1,373.257814 |
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Produced by John Bilderback, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS
By Stephen Crane
Edited With an Introduction by Vincent Starrett
NOTE
A Number of the tales and sketches here brought together appear now for
the first time between covers; others for the first time between covers
in this country. All have been gathered from out-of-print volumes and
old magazine files.
"The Open Boat," one of Stephen Crane's finest stories, is used with
the courteous permission of Doubleday, Page & Co., holders of the
copyright. Its companion masterpiece, "The Blue Hotel," because of
copyright complications, has had to be omitted, greatly to the regret
of the editor.
After the death of Stephen Crane, a haphazard and undiscriminating
gathering of his earlier tales and sketches appeared in London under
the misleading title, "Last Words." From this volume, now rarely met
with, a number of characteristic minor works have been selected, and
these will be new to Crane's American admirers; as follows: "The
Reluctant Voyagers," "The End of the Battle," "The Upturned Face," "An
Episode of War," "A Desertion," "Four Men in a Cave," "The Mesmeric
Mountain," "London Impressions," "The Snake."
Three of our present collection, printed by arrangement, appeared in
the London (1898) edition of "The Open Boat and Other Stories,"
published by William Heinemann, but did not occur in the American
volume of that title. They are "An Experiment in Misery," "The Duel
that was not Fought," and "The Pace of Youth."
For the rest, "A Dark Brown Dog," "A Tent in Agony," and "The Scotch
Express," are here printed for the first time in a book.
For the general title of the present collection, the editor alone is
responsible.
V. S.
MEN, WOMEN AND BOATS
CONTENTS
STEPHEN CRANE: _An Estimate_
THE OPEN BOAT
THE RELUCTANT VOYAGERS
THE END OF THE BATTLE
THE UPTURNED FACE
AN EPISODE OF WAR
AN EXPERIMENT IN MISERY
THE DUEL THAT WAS NOT FOUGHT
A DESERTION
THE DARK-BROWN DOG
THE PACE OF YOUTH
SULLIVAN COUNTY SKETCHES
A TENT IN AGONY
FOUR MEN IN A CAVE
THE MESMERIC MOUNTAIN
THE SNAKE
LONDON IMPRESSIONS
THE SCOTCH EXPRESS
STEPHEN CRANE: _AN ESTIMATE_
It hardly profits us to conjecture what Stephen Crane might have
written about the World War had he lived. Certainly, he would have been
in it, in one capacity or another. No man had a greater talent for war
and personal adventure, nor a finer art in describing it. Few writers
of recent times could so well describe the poetry of motion as
manifested in the surge and flow of battle, or so well depict the
isolated deed of heroism in its stark simplicity and terror.
To such an undertaking as Henri Barbusse's "Under Fire," that powerful,
brutal book, Crane would have brought an analytical genius almost
clairvoyant. He possessed an uncanny vision; a descriptive ability
photographic in its clarity and its care for minutiae--yet
unphotographic in that the big central thing often is omitted, to be
felt rather than seen in the occult suggestion of detail. Crane would
have seen and depicted the grisly horror of it all, as did Barbusse,
but also he would have seen the glory and the ecstasy and the wonder of
it, and over that his poetry would have been spread.
While Stephen Crane was an excellent psychologist, he was also a true
poet. Frequently his prose was finer poetry than his deliberate essays
in poesy. His most famous book, "The Red Badge of Courage," is
essentially a psychological study, a delicate clinical dissection of
the soul of a recruit, but it is also a _tour de force_ of the
imagination. When he wrote the book he had never seen a battle: he had
to place himself in the situation of another. Years later, when he came
out of the Greco-Turkish _fracas_, he remarked to a friend: "'The Red
Badge' is all right."
Written by a youth who had scarcely passed his majority, this book has
been compared with Tolstoy's "Sebastopol" and Zola's "La Debacle," and
with some of the short stories of Ambrose Bierce. The comparison with
Bierce's work is legitimate; with the other books, I think, less so.
Tolstoy and Zola see none of the traditional beauty of battle; they
apply themselves to a devoted--almost obscene--study of corpses and
carnage generally; and they lack the American's instinct for the rowdy
commonplace, the natural, the irreverent, which so materially aids his
realism. In "The Red Badge of Courage" invariably the tone is kept down
where one expects a height: the most heroic deeds are accomplished with
studied awkwardness.
Crane was an obscure free-lance when he wrote this book. The effort, he
says, somewhere, "was born of pain--despair, almost." It was a better
piece of work, however, for that very reason, as Crane knew. It is far
from flawless. It has been remarked that it bristles with as many
grammatical errors as with bayonets; but it is a big canvas, and I am
certain that many of Crane's deviations from the rules of polite
rhetoric were deliberate experiments, looking to effect--effect which,
frequently, he gained.
Stephen Crane "arrived" with this book. There are, of course, many who
never have heard of him, to this day, but there was a time when he was
very much talked of. That was in the middle nineties, following
publication of "The Red Badge of Courage," although even before that he
had occasioned a brief flurry with his weird collection of poems called
"The Black Riders and Other Lines." He was highly praised, and highly
abused and laughed at; but he seemed to be "made." We have largely
forgotten since. It is a way we have.
Personally, I prefer his short stories to his novels and his poems;
those, for instance, contained in "The Open Boat," in "Wounds in the
Rain," and in "The Monster." The title-story in that first collection
is perhaps his finest piece of work. Yet what is it? A truthful record
of an adventure of his own in the filibustering days that preceded our
war with Spain; the faithful narrative of the voyage of an open boat,
manned by a handful of shipwrecked men. But Captain Bligh's account of
_his_ small boat journey, after he had been sent adrift by the
mutineers of the _Bounty_, seems tame in comparison, although of the
two the English sailor's voyage was the more perilous.
In "The Open Boat" Crane again gains his effects by keeping down the
tone where another writer might have attempted "fine writing" and have
been lost. In it perhaps is most strikingly evident the poetic cadences
of his prose: its rhythmic, monotonous flow is the flow of the gray
water that laps at the sides of the boat, that rises and recedes in
cruel waves, "like little pointed rocks." It is a desolate picture, and
the tale is one of our greatest short stories. In the other tales that
go to make up the volume are wild, exotic glimpses of Latin-America. I
doubt whether the color and spirit of that region have been better
rendered than in Stephen Crane's curious, distorted, staccato sentences.
"War Stories" is the laconic sub-title of "Wounds in the Rain." It was
not war on a grand scale that Crane saw in the Spanish-American
complication, in which he participated as a war correspondent; no such
war as the recent horror. But the occasions for personal heroism were
no fewer than always, and the opportunities for the exercise of such
powers of trained and appreciative understanding and sympathy as Crane
possessed, were abundant. For the most part, these tales are episodic,
reports of isolated instances--the profanely humorous experiences of
correspondents, the magnificent courage of signalmen under fire, the
forgotten adventure of a converted yacht--but all are instinct with the
red fever of war, and are backgrounded with the choking smoke of
battle. Never again did Crane attempt the large canvas of "The Red
Badge of Courage." Before he had seen war, he imagined its immensity
and painted it with the fury and fidelity of a Verestchagin; when he
was its familiar, he singled out its minor, crimson passages for
briefer but no less careful delineation.
In this book, again, his sense of the poetry of motion is vividly
evident. We see men going into action, wave on wave, or in scattering
charges; we hear the clink of their accoutrements and their breath
whistling through their teeth. They are not men going into action at
all, but men going about their business, which at the moment happens to
be the capture of a trench. They are neither heroes nor cowards. Their
faces reflect no particular emotion save, perhaps, a desire to get
somewhere. They are a line of men running for a train, or following a
fire engine, or charging a trench. It is a relentless picture, ever
changing, ever the same. But it contains poetry, too, in rich,
memorable passages.
In "The Monster and Other Stories," there is a tale called "The Blue
Hotel". A Swede, its central figure, toward the end manages to get
himself murdered. Crane's description of it is just as casual as that.
The story fills a dozen pages of the book; but the social injustice of
the whole world is hinted in that space; the upside-downness of
creation, right prostrate, wrong triumphant,--a mad, crazy world. The
incident of the murdered Swede is just part of the backwash of it all,
but it is an illuminating fragment. The Swede was slain, not by the
gambler whose knife pierced his thick hide: he was the victim of a
condition for which he was no more to blame than the man who stabbed
him. Stephen Crane thus speaks through the lips of one of the
characters:--
"We are all in it! This poor gambler isn't even
a noun. He is a kind of an adverb. Every sin is
the result of a collaboration. We, five of us, have
collaborated in the murder of this Swede. Usually
there are from a dozen to forty women really involved
in every murder, but in this case it seems
to be only five men--you, I, Johnnie, Old Scully,
and that fool of an unfortunate gambler came
merely as a culmination, the apex of a human movement,
and gets all the punishment."
And then this typical and arresting piece of irony:--
"The corpse of the Swede, alone in the saloon,
had its eyes fixed upon a dreadful legend that
dwelt atop of the cash-machine: 'This registers the
amount of your purchase.'"
In "The Monster," the ignorance, prejudice and cruelty of an entire
community are sharply focussed. The realism is painful; one blushes for
mankind. But while this story really belongs in the volume called
"Whilomville Stories," it is properly left out of that series. The
Whilomville stories are pure comedy, and "The Monster" is a hideous
tragedy.
Whilomville is any obscure little village one may happen to think of.
To write of it with such sympathy and understanding, Crane must have
done some remarkable listening in Boyville. The truth is, of course, he
was a boy himself--"a wonderful boy," somebody called him--and was
possessed of the boy mind. These tales are chiefly funny because they
are so true--boy stories written for adults; a child, I suppose, would
find them dull. In none of his tales is his curious understanding of
human moods and emotions better shown.
A stupid critic once pointed out that Crane, in his search for striking
effects, had been led into "frequent neglect of the time-hallowed
rights of certain words," and that in his pursuit of color he "falls
occasionally into almost ludicrous mishap." The smug pedantry of the
quoted lines is sufficient answer to the charges, but in support of
these assertions the critic quoted certain passages and phrases. He
objected to cheeks "scarred" by tears, to "dauntless" statues, and to
"terror-stricken" wagons. The very touches of poetic impressionism that
largely make for Crane's greatness, are cited to prove him an
ignoramus. There is the finest of poetic imagery in the suggestions
subtly conveyed by Crane's tricky adjectives, the use of which was as
deliberate with him as his choice of a subject. But Crane was an
imagist before our modern imagists were known.
This unconventional use of adjectives is marked in the Whilomville
tales. In one of them Crane refers to the "solemn odor of burning
turnips." It is the most nearly perfect characterization of burning
turnips conceivable: can anyone improve upon that "solemn odor"?
Stephen Crane's first venture was "Maggie: A Girl of the Streets." It
was, I believe, the first hint of naturalism in American letters. It
was not a best-seller; it offers no solution of life; it is an episodic
bit of slum fiction, ending with the tragic finality of a Greek drama.
It is a skeleton of a novel rather than a novel, but it is a powerful
outline, written about a life Crane had learned to know as a newspaper
reporter in New York. It is a singularly fine piece of analysis, or a
bit of extraordinarily faithful reporting, as one may prefer; but not a
few French and Russian writers have failed to accomplish in two volumes
what Crane achieved in two hundred pages. In the same category is
"George's Mother," a triumph of inconsequential detail piling up with a
cumulative effect quite overwhelming.
Crane published two volumes of poetry--"The Black Riders" and "War is
Kind." Their appearance in print was jeeringly hailed; yet Crane was
only pioneering in the free verse that is today, if not definitely
accepted, at least more than tolerated. I like the following love poem
as well as any rhymed and conventionally metrical ballad that I know:--
"Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there
And the fall to doom a long way."
"If war be kind," wrote a clever reviewer, when the second volume
appeared, "then Crane's verse may be poetry, Beardsley's black and
white creations may be art, and this may be called a book";--a smart
summing up that is cherished by cataloguers to this | 1,373.258892 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.2412500 | 7,413 | 79 |
Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading team
PRINCE HAGEN
By Upton Sinclair
CHARACTERS (In order of appearance)
Gerald Isman: a poet.
Mimi: a Nibelung.
Alberich: King of the Nibelungs.
Prince Hagen: his grandson.
Mrs. Isman.
Hicks: a butler.
Mrs. Bagley-Willis: mistress of Society.
John Isman: a railroad magnate.
Estelle Isman: his daughter.
Plimpton: the coal baron.
Rutherford: lord of steel.
De Wiggleston Riggs: cotillon leader.
Lord Alderdyce: seeing America.
Calkins: Prince Hagen's secretary.
Nibelungs: members of Society.
ACT I
SCENE I. Gerald Isman's tent in Quebec.
SCENE 2. The Hall of State in Nibelheim.
ACT II
Library in the Isman home on Fifth Avenue: two years later.
ACT III
Conservatory of Prince Hagen's palace on Fifth Avenue. The wind-up
of the opening ball: four months later.
ACT IV
Living room in the Isman camp in Quebec: three months later.
ACT I
SCENE I
[Shows a primeval forest, with great trees, thickets in background,
and moss and ferns underfoot. A set in the foreground. To the left is a
tent, about ten feet square, with a fly. The front and sides are rolled
up, showing a rubber blanket spread, with bedding upon it; a rough
stand, with books and some canned goods, a rifle, a fishing-rod, etc.
Toward centre is a trench with the remains of a fire smoldering in it,
and a frying pan and some soiled dishes beside it. There is a log, used
as a seat, and near it are several books, a bound volume of music lying
open, and a violin case with violin. To the right is a rocky wall, with
a cleft suggesting a grotto.]
[At rise: GERALD pottering about his fire, which is burning badly,
mainly because he is giving most of his attention to a bound volume
of music which he has open. He is a young man of twenty-two, with wavy
auburn hair; wears old corduroy trousers and a grey flannel shirt,
open at the throat. He stirs the fire, then takes violin and plays the
Nibelung theme with gusto.]
GERALD. A plague on that fire! I think I'll make my supper on prunes and
crackers to-night!
[Plays again.]
MIMI. [Enters left, disguised as a pack-peddler; a little wizened up
man, with long, unkempt grey hair and beard, and a heavy bundle on his
back.] Good evening, sir!
GERALD. [Starts.] Hello!
MIMI. Good evening!
GERALD. Why... who are you?
MIMI. Can you tell me how I find the road, sir?
GERALD. Where do you want to go?
MIMI. To the railroad.
GERALD. Oh, I see! You got lost?
MIMI. Yes, sir.
GERALD. [Points.] You should have turned to the right down where the
roads cross.
MIMI. Oh. That's it!
[Puts down burden and sighs.]
GERALD. Are you expecting to get to the railroad to-night?
MIMI. Yes, sir.
GERALD. Humph! You'll find it hard going. Better rest. [Looks him over,
curiously.] What are you--a peddler?
MIMI. I sell things. Nice things, sir. You buy?
[Starts to open pack.]
GERALD. No. I don't want anything.
MIMI. [Gazing about.] You live here all alone?
GERALD. Yes... all alone.
MIMI. [Looking of left.] Who lives in the big house?
GERALD. That's my father's camp.
MIMI. Humph! Nobody in there?
GERALD. The family hasn't come up yet.
MIMI. Why don't you live there?
GERALD. I'm camping out--I prefer the tent.
MIMI. Humph! Who's your father?
GERALD. John Isman's his name.
MIMI. Rich man, hey?
GERALD. Why... yes. Fairly so.
MIMI. I see people here last year.
GERALD. Oh! You've been here before?
MIMI. Yes. I been here. I see young lady. Very beautiful!
GERALD. That's my sister, I guess.
MIMI. Your sister. What you call her?
GERALD. Her name's Estelle.
MIMI. Estelle! And what's your name?
GERALD. I'm Gerald Isman.
MIMI. Humph! [Looking about, sees violin.] You play music, hey?
GERALD. Yes.
MIMI. You play so very bad?
GERALD. [Laughs.] Why... what makes you think that?
MIMI. You come 'way off by yourself!
GERALD. Oh! I see! No... I like to be alone.
MIMI. I hear you playing... nice tune.
GERALD. Yes. You like music?
MIMI. Sometimes. You play little quick tune... so?
[Hums.]
GERALD. [Plays Nibelung theme.] This?
MIMI. [Eagerly.] Yes. Where you learn that?
GERALD. That's the Nibelung music.
MIMI. Nibelung music! Where you hear it?
GERALD. Why... it's in an opera.
MIMI. An opera?
GERALD. It's by a composer named Wagner.
MIMI. Where he hear it?
GERALD. [Laughs.] Why... I guess he made it up.
MIMI. What's it about? Hey?
GERALD. It's about the Nibelungs.
MIMI. Nibelungs?
GERALD. Queer little people who live down inside the earth, and spend
all their time digging for gold.
MIMI. Ha! You believe in such people?
GERALD. [Amused.] Why... I don't know...
MIMI. You ever see them?
GERALD. No... but the poets tell us they exist.
MIMI. The poets, hey? What they tell you about them?
GERALD. Well, they have great rocky caverns, down in the depths of the
earth. And they have treasures of gold... whole caves of it. And they're
very cunning smiths... they make all sorts of beautiful golden vessels
and trinkets.
MIMI. Trinkets, hey! [Reaches into bundle.] Like this, hey?
[Holds up a gold cup.]
GERALD. [Surprised.] Oh!
MIMI. Or this, hey?
GERALD. Why... where did you get such things?
MIMI. Ha, ha! You don't know what I got!
GERALD. Let me see them.
MIMI. You think the Nibelungs can beat that, hey? [Reaches into bag.]
Maybe I sell you this cap! [Takes out a little cap of woven gold
chains.] A magic cap, hey?
GERALD. [Astounded.] Why... what is it?
MIMI. [Puts it on his head.] You wear it... so. And you play Nibelung
music, and you vanish from sight... nobody finds you. Or I sell you
the magic ring... you wear that... [Hands it to GERALD.] Put it on your
finger... so. Now you play, and the Nibelungs come... they dance about
in the woods... they bring you gold treasures... ha, ha, ha! [Amused
at GERALD's perplexity.] What you think they look like, hey?... those
Nibelungs!
GERALD. Why... I don't know...
MIMI. What do your poets tell you? ha?
GERALD. Why... they're little men... with long hair and funny clothes...
and humpbacked.
MIMI. Look like me, hey?
GERALD. [Embarrassed.] Why... yes... in a way.
MIMI. What are their names?
GERALD. Their names?
MIMI. Yes... what ones do you know about?
GERALD. Well, there was Alberich, the king.
MIMI. Alberich!
GERALD. He was the one who found the Rheingold. And then there was
Hagen, his son.
MIMI. Hagen!
GERALD. He killed the hero, Siegfried.
MIMI. Yes, yes!
GERALD. And then there was Mimi.
MIMI. Ah! Mimi!
GERALD. He was a very famous smith.
MIMI. [Eagerly.] You know all about them! Somebody has been there!
GERALD. What do you mean?
MIMI. Would you like to see those Nibelungs?
GERALD. [Laughing.] Why... I wouldn't mind.
MIMI. You would like to see them dancing in the moonlight, and hear the
clatter of their trinkets and shields? You would like to meet old King
Alberich, and Mimi the smith? You would like to see that cavern yawn
open... [points to right] and fire and steam break forth, and all the
Nibelungs come running out? Would you like that? ha?
GERALD. Indeed I would!
MIMI. You wouldn't be afraid?
GERALD. No, I don't think so.
MIMI. But are you sure?
GERALD. Yes... sure!
MIMI. All right! You wear my magic ring! You wait till night comes! Then
you play! [Puts away trinkets.] I must go now.
GERALD. [Perplexed.] What do you want for your ring?
MIMI. It is not for sale. I give it.
GERALD. What!
MIMI. Money could not buy it. [Takes up pack.] I came to you because you
play that music.
GERALD. But I can't... it...
MIMI. It is yours... you are a poet! [Starts left.] Is this the way?
GERALD. Yes. But I don't like to...
MIMI. Keep it! You will see! Good-bye!
GERALD. But wait!
MIMI. It is late. I must go. Good-night.
[Exit left.]
GERALD. Good-night. [Stands staring.] Well, I'll be switched! If that
wasn't a queer old customer! [Looks at ring.] It feels like real gold!
[Peers after MIMI.] What in the world did he mean, anyhow? The magic
ring! I hope he doesn't get lost in those woods to-night. [Turns to
fire.] Confound that fire! It's out for good now! Let it go. [Sits, and
takes music score.] Nibelungs! They are realer than anybody guesses.
People who spend their lives in digging for gold, and know and care
about nothing else. How many of them I've met at mother's dinner
parties! Well, I must get to my work now. [Makes a few notes; then
looks up and stretches.] Ah, me! I don't know what makes me so lazy this
evening. This strange heaviness! There seems to be a spell on me. [Gazes
about.] How beautiful these woods are at sunset! If I were a Nibelung,
I'd come here for certain! [Settles himself, reclining; shadows begin to
fall; music from orchestra.] I'm good for nothing but dreaming... I wish
Estelle were here to sing to me! How magical the twilight is! Estelle!
Estelle!
[He lies motionless; music dies away, and there is a long silence. The
forest is dark, with gleams of moonlight. Suddenly there is a faint note
of music... the Nibelung theme. After a silence it is repeated; then
again. Several instruments take it up. It swells louder. Vague forms are
seen flitting here and there. Shadows move.]
GERALD. [Starting up suddenly.] What's that? [Silence; then the note is
heard again, very faint. He starts. It is heard again, and he springs to
his feet.] What's that? [Again and again. He runs to his violin, picks
it up, and stares at it. Still the notes are heard, and he puts down the
violin, and runs down stage, listening.] Why, what can it mean? [As the
music grows louder his perplexity and alarm increase. Suddenly he sees a
figure stealing through the shadows, and he springs back, aghast.]
Why, it's a Nibelung! [Another figure passes.] Oh! I must be dreaming!
[Several more appear.] Nibelungs! Why, it's absurd! Wake up, man!
You're going crazy! [Music swells louder; figures appear, carrying gold
shields, chains, etc., with clatter.] My God!
[He stands with hands clasped to his forehead, while the uproar swells
louder and louder, and the forms become more numerous. He rushes down
stage, and the Nibelungs surround him, dancing about him in wild career,
laughing, screaming, jeering. They begin to pinch his legs behind his
back, and he leaps here and there, crying out. Gradually they drive him
toward the grotto, which opens before them, revealing a black chasm,
emitting clouds of steam. They rush in and are enveloped in the mist.
Sounds of falling and crashing are heard. The steam spreads, gradually
veiling the front of the stage.]
[Nets rise with the steam, giving the effect of a descent. During this
change the orchestra plays the music between Scenes II and III in Das
Rheingold.]
SCENE II
[Nibelheim: a vast rocky cavern. Right centre is a large gold throne,
and to the right of that an entrance through a great tunnel. Entrances
from the sides also. At the left is a large golden vase upon a stand,
and near it lie piles of golden utensils, shields, etc. Left centre is a
heavy iron door, opening into a vault. Throughout this scene there is a
suggestion of music, rising into full orchestra at significant moments.
The voices of the Nibelungs are accompanied by stopped trumpets and
other weird sounds.]
[At rise: The stage is dark. A faint light spreads. A company of
Nibelungs crosses from right to left, carrying trinkets and treasures.
Clatter of shields, crack of whips, music, etc. Another company of
Nibelungs runs in left.]
FIRST NIB. [Entering.] The earth-man has come!
SECOND NIB. Where is he?
FIRST NIB. He is with Mimi!
SECOND NIB. What is he like?
FIRST NIB. He is big! [With a gesture of fright.] Terrible!
THIRD NIB. Ah!
SECOND NIB. And the king? Does he know?
FIRST NIB. He has been told.
THIRD NIB. Where is the king?
FIRST NIB. He comes! He comes!
[The orchestra plays the Fasolt and Fafnir music, Rheingold, Scene II.]
[Enter a company of Nibelungs, armed with whips, and marching with a
stately tread. They post themselves about the apartment. Enter another
company supporting KING ALBERICH. He is grey-haired and very feeble,
but ferocious-looking, and somewhat taller than the others. His robe is
lined with ermine, and he carries a gold Nibelung whip--a short handle
of gold, with leather thongs. He seats himself upon the throne, and all
make obeisance. A solemn pause.]
ALBERICH. The earth-man has come?
FIRST NIB. Yes, your majesty!
ALB. Where is Mimi?
ALL. Mimi! Mimi!
[The call is repeated off.]
MIMI. [Enters left.] Your majesty.
ALB. Where is the earth-man?
MIMI. He is safe, your majesty.
ALB. Did he resist?
MIMI. I have brought him, your majesty.
ALB. And Prince Hagen? Has he come?
MIMI. He is without, your majesty.
ALB. Let him be brought in.
[All cry out in terror.]
MIMI. Your majesty. He is wild! He fights with everyone! He...
ALB. Let him be brought in.
ALL. Prince Hagen! Prince Hagen!
MIMI. [Calling.] Prince Hagen!
[Some run out. The call is heard off All stand waiting in tense
expectation. The music plays the Hagen motives, with suggestions of the
Siegfried funeral march. Voices are heard in the distance, and at the
climax of the music PRINCE HAGEN and his keepers enter. He is small for
a man, but larger than any of the Nibelungs; a grim, sinister figure,
with black hair, and a glowering look. His hands are chained in front of
him, and eight Nibelungs march as a guard. He has bare arms and limbs,
and a rough black bearskin flung over his shoulders. He enters right,
and stands glaring from one to another.]
ALB. Good evening, Hagen.
HAGEN. [After a pause.] Well?
ALB. [Hesitating.] Hagen, you are still angry and rebellious?
HAGEN. I am!
ALB. [Pleading.] Hagen, you are my grandson. You are my sole heir...
the only representative of my line. You are all that I have in the
world!
HAGEN. Well?
ALB. You place me in such a trying position! Have you no shame... no
conscience? Why, some day you will be king... and one cannot keep a king
in chains!
HAGEN. I do not want to be in chains!
ALB. But, Hagen, your conduct is such... what can I do? You have
robbed... you have threatened murder! And you... my grandson and my
heir...
HAGEN. Have you sent for me to preach at me again?
ALB. Hagen, this stranger... he has come to visit us from the world
above. These earth-men know more than we... they have greater powers...
[He hesitates.]
HAGEN. What is all that to me?
ALB. You know that you yourself are three-quarters an earth-man...
HAGEN. I know it. [With a passionate gesture.] But I am in chains!
ALB. There may be a way of your having another chance. Perhaps this
stranger will teach you. If you will promise to obey him, he will
stay with you... he will be your tutor, and show you the ways of the
earth-men.
HAGEN. No!
ALB. What?
HAGEN. I will not have it!
ALB. Hagen!
HAGEN. I will not have it, I say! Why did you not consult me?
ALB. But what is your objection...
HAGEN. I will not obey an earth-man! I will not obey anyone!
ALB. But he will teach you...
HAGEN. I do not want to be taught. I want to be let alone! Take off
these chains!
ALB. [Half rising.] Hagen! I insist...
HAGEN. Take them off, I say! You cannot conquer me... you cannot trick
me!
ALB. [Angrily.] Take him away!
[The Nibelungs seize hold of him to hustle him off.]
HAGEN. I will not obey him! Mark what I say... I will kill him. Yes! I
will kill him!
[He is dragged off protesting.]
ALB. [Sits, his head bowed with grief, until the uproar dies away; then,
looking up.] Mimi!
MIMI. Yes, your majesty.
ALB. Let the earth-man be brought.
MIMI. Yes, your majesty!
ALL. The earth-man! The earth-man!
[The call is heard as before. GERALD is brought on; the orchestra plays
a beautiful melody, violins and horns. MIMI moves left to meet him.]
GERALD. [Enters left with attendants; hesitating, gazing about in
wonder. He sees MIMI, and stops; a pause.] The pack peddler!
MIMI. The pack peddler!
GER. And these are Nibelungs?
MIMI. You call us that.
GER. [Laughing nervously.] You... er... it's a little disconcerting, you
know. I had no idea you existed. May I ask your name?
MIMI. I am Mimi.
GER. Mimi! Mimi, the smith? And may I ask... are you real, or is this a
dream?
MIMI. Is not life a dream?
GER. Yes... but...
MIMI. It is a story. You have to pretend that it is true.
GER. I see!
MIMI. You pretend that it is true... and then you see what happens! It
is very interesting!
GER. Yes... I have no doubt. [Peers at him.] And just to help me
straighten things out... would you mind telling me... are you old or
young?
MIMI. I am young.
GER. How young?
MIMI. Nine hundred years young.
GER. Oh! And why did you come for me?
MIMI. The king commanded it.
GER. The king? And who may this king be?
MIMI. King Alberich.
GER. Alberich. [Stares at the king.] And is this he?
MIMI. It is he.
GER. And may I speak to him?
MIMI. You may.
ALB. Let the earth-man advance. Hail!
GER. Good evening, Alberich.
MIMI. [At his elbow.] Your majesty!
GER. Good evening, your majesty.
ALB. [After along gaze.] You play our music. Where did you learn it?
GER. Why... it's in Wagner's operas. He composed it.
ALB. Humph... composed it!
GER. [Aghast.] You mean he came and copied it!
ALB. Of course!
GER. Why... why... we all thought it was original!
ALB. Original! It is indeed wonderful originality! To listen in the
Rhine-depths to the song of the maidens, to dwell in the forest and
steal its murmurs, to catch the crackling of the fire and the flowing
of the water, the galloping of the wind and the death march of the
thunder... and then write it all down for your own! To take our story
and tell it just as it happened... to take the very words from our lips,
and sign your name to them! Originality!
GER. But, your majesty, one thing at least. Even his enemies granted him
that! He invented the invisible orchestra!
ALB. [Laughing.] Have you seen any orchestra here?
[Siegfried motive sounds.]
GER. I hadn't realized it! Do you mean that everything here happens to
music?
ALB. If you only had the ears to hear, you would know that the whole
world happens to music.
GER. [Stands entranced.] Listen! Listen!
ALB. It is very monotonous, when one is digging out the gold. It keeps
up such a wheezing, and pounding.
[Stopped trumpets from orchestra.]
GER. Ah, don't speak of such things! [Gazes about; sees cup.] What is
this?
ALB. That is the coronation cup.
GER. The coronation cup?
ALB. One of the greatest of our treasures. It is worth over four hundred
thousand dollars. It is the work of the elder Mimi, a most wonderful
smith.
GER. [Advancing.] May I look at it?
ALB. You will observe the design of the Rhine maidens.
GER. I can't see it here. It's too dark. Let me have a candle.
MIMI. A candle?
ALL. A candle!
ALB. My dear sir! Candles are so expensive! And why do you want to see
it? We never look at our art treasures.
GER. Never look at them!
ALB. No. We know what they are worth, and everyone else knows; and what
difference does it make how they look?
GER. Oh, I see!
ALB. Perhaps you would like to see our vaults of gold? [Great excitement
among the Nibelungs. The music makes a furious uproar. ALBERICH gives a
great key to MIMI, who opens the iron doors.] Approach, sir.
MIMI. Hear the echoes. [Shouts.]
GER. It must be a vast place!
ALB. This particular cavern runs for seventeen miles under the earth.
GER. What! And you mean it is all full of gold?
ALB. From floor to roof with solid masses of it.
GER. Incredible! Is it all of the Nibelung treasure?
ALB. All? Mercy, no! This is simply my own, and I am by no means a rich
man. The extent of some of our modern fortunes would simply exceed your
belief. We live in an age of enormous productivity. [After a pause.]
Will you see more of the vault?
GER. No, I thank you. [They close it.] It must be getting late; and, by
the way, your majesty, you know that no one has told me yet why you had
me brought here.
ALB. Ah, yes, sure enough. We have business to talk about. Let us get to
it! [To MIMI.] Let the hall be cleared. [MIMI drives out the Nibelungs
and retires.] Sit on this rock here beside me. [Confidentially.] Now we
can talk things over. I trust you are willing to listen to me.
GER. Most certainly. I am very much interested.
ALB. Thank you. You know, my dear sir, that I had a son, Hagen, who was
the slayer of the great hero, Siegfried?
GER. Yes, your majesty.
ALB. A most lamentable affair. You did not know, I presume, that Hagen,
too, had a son, by one of the daughters of earth?
GER. No. He is not mentioned in history.
ALB. That son, Prince Hagen, is now living; and, in the course of
events, he will fall heir to the throne I occupy.
GER. I see.
ALB. The boy is seven or eight hundred years old, which, in your
measure, would make him about eighteen. Now, I speak frankly. The boy is
wild and unruly. He needs guidance and occupation. And I have sent
for you because I understand that you earth-people think more and see
farther than we do.
GER. Yes?
ALB. I wish to ask you to help me... to use your strength of mind and
body to direct this boy.
GER. But what can I do?
ALB. I wish you to stay here and be Prince Hagen's tutor.
GER. What?
ALB. [Anxiously.] If you will do it, sir, you will carry hence a
treasure such as the world has never seen before. And it is a noble
work... a great work, sir. He is the grandson of a king! Tell me...
will you help me?
[Gazes imploringly.]
GER. Let me think. [A pause.] Your majesty, I have things of importance
to do, and I have no time to stay here...
ALB. But think of the treasures!
GER. My father is a rich man, and I have no need of treasures. And
besides, I am a poet. I have work of my own...
ALB. Oh! don't refuse me, sir!
GER. Listen! There is, perhaps, something else we can do. How would it
do to take Prince Hagen up to the world?
ALB. [Starting.] Oh!
GER. This world is a small one. There he might have a wide field for his
energies. He might be sent to a good school, and taught the ideals of
our Christian civilization.
ALB. [Pondering anxiously.] You mean that you yourself would see to it
that proper care was given to him?
GER. If I took him with me it would mean that I was interested in his
future.
ALB. It is a startling proposition. What opportunity can you offer him?
GER. I am only a student myself. But my father is a man of importance in
the world.
ALB. What does he do?
GER. He is John Isman. They call him the railroad king.
ALB. You have kings in your world, also!
GER. [Smiling.] After a fashion... yes.
ALB. I had not thought of this. I hardly know what to reply. [He
starts.] What is that?
[An uproar is heard of left. Shouts and cries; music rises to deafening
climax. Nibelungs flee on in terror.]
HAGEN. [Rushes on, struggling wildly, and dragging several Nibelungs.]
Let me go, I say! Take off these chains!
ALB. [Rising in seat.] Hagen!
HAGEN. I will not stand it, I tell you!
ALB. Hagen! Listen to me!
HAGEN. No!
ALB. I have something new to tell you. The earth-man has suggested
taking you up with him to the world.
HAGEN. [A sudden wild expression flashes across his features.] No! [He
gazes from one to the other, half beside himself.] You can't mean it!
ALB. It is true, Hagen.
HAGEN. What... why...
ALB. You would be sent to school and taught the ways of the earth-men.
Do you think that you would like to go?
HAGEN. [Wildly.] By the gods! I would!
ALB. [Nervously.] You will promise to obey...
HAGEN. I'll promise anything! I'll do anything!
ALB. Hagen, this is a very grave decision for me. It is such an unusual
step! You would have to submit yourself to this gentleman, who is kind
enough to take charge of you...
HAGEN. I Will! I will! Quick! [Holding out his chains.] Take them off!
ALB. [Doubtfully.] We can trust you?
HAGEN. You can trust me! You'll have no trouble. Take them off!
ALB. Off with them!
MIMI. [Advances and proceeds to work at chains with a file.] Yes, your
majesty.
HAGEN. [TO GERALD.] Tell me! What am I to do?
GER. You are to have an education...
HAGEN. Yes? What's it like? Tell me more about the earth-people.
GER. It's too much to try to tell. You will be there soon.
HAGEN. Ah! Be quick there! [Tears one hand free and waves it.] By the
gods!
ALB. [To GERALD.] You had best spend the night with us and consult with
me...
HAGEN. No, no! No delay! What's there to consult about?
ALB. We have so much to settle... your clothes... your money...
HAGEN. Give me some gold... that will be all. Let us be off!
GER. I will attend to everything. There is no need of delay.
HAGEN. Come on! [Tears other hand free.] Aha! [Roams about the stage,
clenching his hands and gesticulating, while the music rises to a
tremendous climax.] Free! Free forever! Aha! Aha! [Turning to GERALD.]
Let us be off.
GER. All right. [To ALBERICH.] Good-bye, your majesty.
ALB. [Anxiously.] Good-bye.
HAGEN. Come on!
ALB. [As Nibelungs gather about, waving farewell.] Take care of
yourself! Come back to me!
HAGEN. Free! Free! Ha, ha, ha!
MIMI. [With Nibelungs.] Good-bye!
ALB. Good-bye!
GER. Good-bye!
HAGEN. Free!
[Exit, with GERALD, amid chorus of farewells, and wild uproar of music.]
[CURTAIN]
ACT II
[Scene shows the library in a Fifth Avenue mansion; spacious and
magnificent. There are folding doors right centre. There is a centre
table with a reading lamp and books, and soft leather chairs. The walls
are covered with bookcases. An entrance right to drawing-room. Also an
entrance left.]
[At rise: GERALD, in evening clothes, reading in front of fire.]
GER. [Stretching, and sighing.] Ah, me! I wish I'd stayed at the club.
Bother their dinner parties!
MRS. IS. [Enters right, a nervous, fussy little woman, in evening
costume.] Well, Gerald...
GER. Yes, mother?
MRS. IS. You | 1,373.26129 |
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Produced by Curtis Weyant, Barbara Kosker and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE
SOUTH-WEST.
BY A YANKEE.
Where on my way I went;
------------A pilgrim from the North--
Now more and more attracted, as I drew
Nearer and nearer.
ROGERS' ITALY.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
| 1,373.261435 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE PILGRIM, AND THE AMERICAN OF TODAY--1892
By Charles Dudley Warner
This December evening, the imagination, by a law of contrast, recalls
another December night two hundred and seventy years ago. The circle of
darkness is drawn about a little group of Pilgrims who have come ashore
on a sandy and inhospitable coast. On one side is a vexed and wintry sea,
three thousand miles of tossing waves and tempest, beyond which lie the
home, the hedgerows and cottages, the church towers, the libraries and
universities, the habits and associations of an old civilization, the
strongest and dearest ties that can entwine around a human heart,
abandoned now definitely and forever by these wanderers; on the other
side a wintry forest of unknown extent, without highways, the lair of
wild beasts, impenetrable except by trails known only to the savages,
whose sudden appearance and disappearance adds mystery and terror to the
impression the imagination has conjured up of the wilderness.
This darkness is symbolic. It stands for a vaster obscurity. This is an
encampment on the edge of a continent, the proportions of which are
unknown, the form of which is only conjectured. Behind this screen of
forest are there hills, great streams, with broad valleys, ranges of
mountains perhaps, vast plains, lakes, other wildernesses of illimitable
extent? The adventurers on the James hoped they could follow the stream
to highlands that looked off upon the South Sea, a new route to India and
the Spice Islands. This unknown continent is attacked, it is true, in
more than one place. The Dutch are at the mouth of the Hudson; there is a
London company on the James; the Spaniards have been long in Florida, and
have carried religion and civilization into the deserts of New Mexico.
Nevertheless, the continent, vaster and more varied than was guessed, is
practically undiscovered, untrodden. How inadequate to the subjection of
any considerable portion of it seems this little band of ill-equipped
adventurers, who cannot without peril of life stray a league from the bay
where the "Mayflower" lies.
It is not to be supposed that the Pilgrims had an adequate conception of
the continent, or of the magnitude of their mission on it, or of the
nation to come of which they were laying the foundations. They did the
duty that lay nearest to them; and the duty done today, perhaps without
prescience of its consequences, becomes a permanent stone in the edifice
of the future. They sought a home in a fresh wilderness, where they might
be undisturbed by superior human authority; they had no doctrinarian
notions of equality, nor of the inequality which is the only possible
condition of liberty; the idea of toleration was not born in their age;
they did not project a republic; they established a theocracy, a church
which assumed all the functions of a state, recognizing one Supreme
Power, whose will in human conduct they were to interpret. Already,
however, in the first moment, with a true instinct of self-government,
they drew together in the cabin of the "Mayflower" in an association--to
carry out the divine will in society. But, behold how speedily their
ideas expanded beyond the Jewish conception, necessarily expanded with
opportunity and the practical self-dependence of colonies cut off from
the aid of tradition, and brought face to face with the problems of
communities left to themselves. Only a few years later, on the banks of
the Connecticut, Thomas Hooker, the first American Democrat, proclaimed
that "the foundation of authority is laid in the free consent of the
people," that "the choice of public magistrates belongs unto the people,
by God's own allowance," that it is the right of the people not only to
choose but to limit the power of their rulers, and he exhorted, "as God
has given us liberty to take it." There, at that moment, in Hartford,
American democracy was born; and in the republican union of the three
towns of the Connecticut colony, Hartford, Windsor, and Wethersfield, was
the germ of the American federal system, which was adopted into the
federal constitution and known at the time as the "Connecticut
Compromise."
It were not worth while for me to come a thousand miles to say this, or
to draw over again for the hundredth time the character of the New
England Pilgrim, nor to sketch his achievement on this continent. But it
is pertinent to recall his spirit, his attitude toward life, and to
inquire what he would probably do in the circumstances in which we find
ourselves.
It is another December night, before the dawn of a new year. And this
night still symbolizes the future. You have subdued a continent, and it
stands in the daylight radiant with a material splendor of which the
Pilgrims never dreamed. Yet a continent as dark, as unknown, exists. It
is yourselves, your future, your national life. The other continent was
made, you had only to discover it, to uncover it. This you must make
yourselves.
We have finished the outline sketch of a magnificent nation. The | 1,373.354171 |
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Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines.
Our Friend the Charlatan
by
George Gissing
CHAPTER I
As he waited for his breakfast, never served to time, Mr. Lashmar | 1,373.354433 |
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's Note:
Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text.
The printed book contained the six Numbers of Volume I with their
appended plays. The Index originally appeared at the beginning of
the volume; it has been included at the end of the journal text of
Number 1 (Project Gutenberg EBook #22488), before the play.
Pages 109-188 refer to the present Number.]
THE MIRROR OF TASTE,
AND
DRAMATIC CENSOR.
Vol. I. FEBRUARY 1810. No. 2.
HISTORY OF THE STAGE.
CHAPTER II.
RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE DRAMA IN GREECE--ORIGIN OF
TRAGEDY--THESPIS--AESCHYLUS, "THE FATHER OF THE TRAGIC ART"--HIS
ASTONISHING TALENTS--HIS DEATH.
It has been already remarked that at a very early period, considerably
more than three thousand years ago, the Chinese and other nations in the
east understood the rudiments of the dramatic art. In their crude,
anomalous representations they introduced conjurers, slight of hand men
and rope dancers, with dogs, birds, monkies, snakes and even mice which
were trained to dance, and in their dancing to perform evolutions
descriptive of mathematical and astronomical figures. To this day the
vestiges of those heterogeneous amusements are discernible all over
Indostan: but that which will be regarded by many with surprise, is that
in all countries pagan or christian the drama in its origin, with the
dancings and spectacles attending it have been intermixed with divine
worship. The Bramins danced before their god Vishnou, and still hold it
as an article of faith that Vishnou had himself, "in the olden time"
danced on the head of a huge serpent whose tail encompassed the world.
That very dance which we call a minuet, has been proved by an ingenious
Frenchman, to be the same dance originally performed by the priests in
the temple of Apollo, and constructed by them, to be symbolical of the
zodiac; every figure described by the heavenly bodies having a
correspondent movement in the minuet: the diagonal line and the two
parallels representing the zodiac generally, the twelve steps of which
it is composed, representing the twelve signs, and the twelve months of
the year, and the bow at the beginning and the end of it a profound
obedience to the sun. About the year four hundred after the building of
the city of Rome, the Romans, then smarting under great public calamity,
in order to appease the anger of heaven, instituted theatrical
performances, as feasts in honour of their gods. The first Spanish plays
were founded, sometimes on the loves of shepherds, but much more
frequently on points of theology, such as the birth of Christ, the
passion, the temptation in the desert and the martyrdom of saints. The
most celebrated dramatic poet of Portugal, Balthazar, wrote dramas which
he called AUTOS chiefly on pious subjects--and the prelate Trissino, the
pope's nuncio, wrote the first regular tragedy, while cardinal Bibiena
is said to be the author of the first comedy known in Italy, after the
barbarous ages. The French stage began with the representation of
MYSTRIES, by the priests, who acted sacred history on a stage, and
personated divine characters. The first they performed was the history
of the death of our Saviour, from which circumstance the company who
acted, gave themselves the name of THE CONFRATERNITY OF THE PASSION: and
in England one single paper which remains on record, proves that the
clergy were the first dramatists. This paper is a petition of the clerks
or clergy of St. Paul's to king Richard the Second, and dated in 1378
which prayed his majesty to prohibit a company of _unexpert_ people from
representing the history of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of
the said clergy, who had been at great charge and expense to represent
the same at christmas.
It would be little to the purpose, to dwell longer on that part of the
history of the drama, which lies back in the darkness of remote
antiquity. Having shown that it did exist, in some shape or other, of
which but very imperfect traces remain, and of course very inadequate
notions can be collected, all further inquiry backward would be but the
loss of so much time and trouble. The scope of human knowledge is
extended at too heavy a price when the industry which might be more
usefully applied, is exercised in hunting down origins into the
obscurity of times so extremely distant. Where the greatest pains have
been lavished on that sort of research, little knowledge has been
gained; and the most diligent inquirers have been compelled either to
confess that they were baffled, or rather than own their disappointment,
to substitute fable for fact, and pass the fictions of imagination for
historical truths.
It is in the records of Greece the dramatic art first presents itself in
the consistent shape and with the circumstantial detail of authentic
history. There, plays were first moulded into regular form, and divided
into acts. Yet the people of that country knew so little of its having
previously existed in any shape, in any other country, that the
different states contested with each other, the honour of having
invented it; each asserting its claim with a warmth that demonstrates
the high sense they entertained of its importance: and surely what such
a people highly valued is entitled to the respect of all other nations.
Of the drama, therefore, it might perhaps be enough to say that it was
nursed in the same cradle with Eloquence, Philosophy, and Freedom, and
that it was so favourite a child of their common parents, that they
contended, each for an exclusive right to it. The credit of having first
given simplicity, rational form, and consequent interest to theatrical
representations has, by the universal concurrence of the learned, been
awarded to Attica, whose genius and munificence erected to the drama
that vast monument the temple of Bacchus, the ruins of which are yet
discernible and admired by all travellers of taste and erudition.
The origin of tragedy is a subject of curious contemplation. A rich
planter of Attica, finding, one day, a goat devouring his grapes, killed
it, and invited the peasantry to come and feast upon it. He gave them
abundance of wine to drink, intoxicated with which they daubed their
faces with the lees, ornamented their heads with chaplets made of the
vine branches, and then danced, singing songs in chorus to Bacchus all
the while round the animal destined for their banquet. A feast so very
agreeable was not likely to go unrepeated; and it was soon reduced to a
custom which was pretty generally observed in Attica, during the
vintage. On those occasions the peasants, absolved from all reserve by
intoxication, gave a loose to their animosities against the opulent, and
in token of defiance of their supposed oppressors, went in bodies to
their houses, and in set terms of abuse and sarcasm, called aloud for
redress of their grievances. The novelty of the exhibition drew a
multitude round them who | 1,373.354478 |
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Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XIV. AND OF THE REGENCY
Being the Secret Memoirs of the Mother of the Regent,
MADAME ELIZABETH-CHARLOTTE OF BAVARIA, DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS.
BOOK 3.
Henrietta of England, Monsieur's First Consort
The Due de Berri
The Duchesse de Berri
Mademoiselle d'Orleans, Louise-Adelaide de Chartres
Mademoiselle de Valois, Consort of the Prince of Modena
The Illegitimate Children of the Regent, Duc d'Orleans
The Chevalier de Lorraine
Philip V., King of Spain
The Duchess, Consort of the Duc de Bourbon
The Younger Duchess
Duc Louis de Bourbon
Francois-Louis, Prince de Conti
La Grande Princesse de Conti
The Princess Palatine, Consort of Prince Francois-Louis de Conti
The Princesse de Conti, Louise-Elizabeth, Consort of Louis-Armand
Louis-Armand, Prince de Conti
The Abbe Dubois
Mr. Law
SECTION XVII.--HENRIETTA OF ENGLAND, THE FIRST WIFE OF MONSIEUR, BROTHER
OF LOUIS XIV.
It is true that the late Madame was extremely unhappy; she confided too
much in people who betrayed her: she was more to be pitied than blamed,
being connected with very wicked persons, about whom I could give some
particulars. Young, pretty and gay, she was surrounded by some of the
greatest coquettes in the world, the mistresses of her bitterest foes,
and who sought only to thrust her into some unfortunate situation and to
embroil her with Monsieur. Madame de Coetquen was the Chevalier de
Lorraine's mistress, although Madame did not know it; and she contrived
that the Marechal de Turenne should become attached to her. Madame
having told the Marshal all her secrets respecting the negotiations with
England, he repeated them to his mistress, Madame de Coetquen, whom he
believed to be devoted to his mistress. This woman went every night to
the Chevalier de Lorraine and betrayed them all. The Chevalier used this
opportunity to stir up Monsieur's indignation against Madame, telling him
that he passed with the King for a simpleton, who could not hold his
tongue; that he would lose all confidence, and that his wife would have
everything in her own hand. Monsieur wished to know all the particulars
from Madame; but she refused to tell him her brother's secrets, and this
widened the breach between them. She became enraged, and had the
Chevalier de Lorraine and his brother driven away, which in the end cost
her own life; she, however, died with the consciousness of never having
done her husband any harm. She was the confidante of the King, to whom
it had been hinted that it might be expedient to give some employment to
Monsieur, who might otherwise make himself beloved in the Court and in
the city. For this reason the King assisted Madame in her affairs of
gallantry, in order to occupy his brother. I have this from the King
himself. Madame was besides in great credit with her brother, Charles
II. (of England). Louis XIV. wished to gain him over through his sister,
wherefore it was necessary to take part with her, and she was always
better treated than I have been. The late Monsieur never suspected his
wife of infidelity with the King, her brother-in-law, he told me, all her
life, and would not have been silent with respect to this intrigue if he
had believed it. I think that with respect to this great injustice is
done to Madame. It would have been too much to deceive at once the
brother and the nephew, the father and the son.
The late Monsieur was very much disturbed at his wife's coquetry; but he
dared not behave ill to her, because she was protected by the King.
The Queen-mother of England had not brought up her children well: she at
first left them in the society of femmes de chambre, who gratified all
their caprices; and having afterwards married them at a very early age,
they followed the bad example of their mother. Both of them met with
unhappy deaths; the one was poisoned, and the other died in child-birth.
Monsieur was himself the cause of Madame's intrigue with the Comte de
Guiche. He was one of the favourites of the late Monsieur, and was said
to have been handsome once. Monsieur earnestly requested Madame to shew
some favour to the Comte de Guiche, and to permit him to wait upon her at
all times. The Count, who was brutal to every one else, but full of
vanity, took great pains to be agreeable to Madame, and to make her love
him. In fact, he succeeded, being seconded by his aunt, Madame de
Chaumont, who was the gouvernante of Madame's children. One day Madame
went to this lady's chamber, under the pretence of seeing her children,
but in fact to meet De Guiche, with whom she had an assignation. She had
a valet de chambre named Launois, whom I have since seen in the service
of Monsieur; he had orders to | 1,373.358384 |
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Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of
public domain material from the Google Print project.)
LUDWIG THE SECOND
KING OF BAVARIA
BY
CLARA TSCHUDI
AUTHOR OF "MARIE ANTOINETTE," "EUGÉNIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH,"
"MARIA SOPHIA, QUEEN OF NAPLES," ETC. ETC.
TRAN | 1,373.362141 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.4400800 | 7,436 | 11 |
Produced by Ron Swanson
LITTLE CLASSICS
EDITED BY ROSSITER JOHNSON
STORIES OF FORTUNE
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
_The Riverside Press Cambridge_
1914
COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS.
THE GOLD-BUG......... _Edgar Allan Poe_
THE FAIRY-FINDER....... _Samuel Lover_
MURAD THE UNLUCKY ...... _Maria Edgeworth_
THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC.. _Edward Everett Hale_
THE RIVAL DREAMERS...... _John Banim_
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY .... _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
THE GOLD-BUG.
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE.
What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
_All in the Wrong._
Many years ago I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He
was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a
series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the
mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the
city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan's
Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.
This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the
sea-sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point
exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a
scarcely perceptible creek oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds
and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, as might
be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude
are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands,
and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer,
by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed,
the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this
western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the sea-coast, is
covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by
the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height
of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impenetrable coppice,
burdening the air with its fragrance.
In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or
more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut,
which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his
acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship,--for there was much in
the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated,
with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject
to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with
him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief amusements were
gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and through the
myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological specimens;--his collection
of the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdam. In these
excursions he was usually accompanied by an old <DW64>, called Jupiter,
who had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who
could be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what
he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young
"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand,
conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to
instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and
guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very
severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when a
fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18--, there
occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I
scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I
had not visited for several weeks,--my residence being, at that time,
in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, while the
facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind those of the
present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and
getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted,
unlocked the door, and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the
hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw
off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling logs, and awaited
patiently the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome.
Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some
marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else shall I
term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming a
new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with
Jupiter's assistance, a _scarabæus_ which he believed to be totally
new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the
morrow.
"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and
wishing the whole tribe of _scarabæi_ at the devil.
"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so
long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a
visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met
Lieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the
bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay
here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the
loveliest thing in creation!"
"What?--sunrise?"
"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color,--about the
size of a large hickory-nut,--with two jet-black spots near one
extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The
_antennæ_ are--"
"Dey aint _no_ tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you," here
interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit of him,
inside and all, sep him wing,--neber feel half so hebby a bug in my
life."
"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly,
it seemed to me, than the case demanded, "is that any reason for your
letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned to me--"is really
almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more brilliant
metallic lustre than the scales emit,--but of this you cannot judge
till to-morrow. In the mean time I can give you some idea of the
shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were
a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found
none.
"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer"; and he drew from
his waistcoat-pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap,
and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he did this, I
retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design
was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a
loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter
opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in,
leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown
him much attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over,
I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a
little puzzled at what my friend had depicted.
"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this _is_ a
strange _scarabæus_, I must confess: new to me: never saw anything like
it before,--unless it was a skull, or a death's-head,--which it more
nearly resembles than anything else that has come under _my_
observation."
"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand--"O--yes--well, it has something of
that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look
like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth,--and then
the shape of the whole is oval."
"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must
wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its
personal appearance."
"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw
tolerably,--_should_ do it at least,--have had good masters, and
flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead."
"But, my dear fellow, you are joking, then," said I, "this is a very
passable _skull_,--indeed, I may say that it is a very _excellent_
skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of
physiology,--and your _scarabæus_ must be the queerest _scarabæus_ in
the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit
of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug
_scarabæus caput hominis_, or something of that kind,--there are many
similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the _antennæ_
you spoke of?"
"The _antennæ_!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably
warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the _antennæ_. I made
them as distinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume that
is sufficient."
"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have,--still I don't see them"; and
I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle
his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his
ill-humor puzzled me; and, as for the drawing of the beetle, there were
positively _no antennæ_ visible, and the whole _did_ bear a very close
resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death's-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it,
apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design
seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grew
violently red,--in another as excessively pale. For some minutes he
continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At length he
arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon
a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here again he made an
anxious examination of the paper, turning it in all directions. He said
nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought
it prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any
comment. Presently he took from his coat-pocket a wallet, placed the
paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he
locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his original air
of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as
abstracted. As the evening wore away he became more and more absorbed
in revery, from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been
my intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done
before, but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take
leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my
hand with even more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen
nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his
man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old <DW64> look so dispirited,
and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.
"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?--how is your master?"
"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be."
"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?"
"Dar! dat's it!--him neber plain of notin,--but him berry sick for all
dat."
"_Very_ sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he confined
to bed?"
"No, dat he aint!--he aint find nowhar,--dat's just whar de shoe
pinch,--my mind is got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will."
"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about.
You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails him?"
"Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about de matter,--Massa
Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him,--but den what make him
go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and
as white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all de time--"
"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"
"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate,--de queerest figgurs I
ebber did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep
mighty tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip fore de sun
up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick ready cut
for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come,--but Ise sich a
fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all,--he look so berry poorly."
"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be too
severe with the poor fellow,--don't flog him, Jupiter,--he can't very
well stand it,--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this
illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasant
happened since I saw you?"
"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant _since_ den,--'twas _fore_
den I'm feared,--'twas de berry day you was dare."
"How? what do you mean?"
"Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now."
"The what?"
"De bug,--I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout de
head by dat goole-bug."
"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?"
"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see sich a deuced
bug,--he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will
cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell
you--den was de time he must ha got de bite. I didn't like de look ob
de bug mouff, myself, no how, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid my
finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up
in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff,--dat was de way."
"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle,
and that the bite made him sick?"
"I don't tink noffin about it,--I nose it. What make him dream bout de
goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise heerd bout
dem goole-bugs fore dis."
"But how do you know he dreams about gold?"
"How I know? why cause he talk about it in he sleep,--dat's how I
nose."
"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate circumstance
am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to-day?"
"What de matter, massa?"
"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?"
"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel"; and here Jupiter handed me a note
which ran thus:--
MY DEAR ----: Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you
have not been so foolish as to take offence at any little _brusquerie_
of mine; but no, that is improbable.
Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have something to
tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether I should tell it
at all.
I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys
me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. Would you
believe it?--he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to
chastise me for giving him the slip, and spending the day, _solus_,
among the hills on the mainland. I verily believe that my ill looks
alone saved me a flogging.
I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
If you can in any way make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. _Do_
come. I wish to see you _to-night_, upon business of importance. I
assure you that it is of the _highest_ importance.
Ever yours,
WILLIAM LEGRAND.
There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great
uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of Legrand.
What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed his excitable
brain? What "business of the highest importance" could _he_ possibly
have to transact? Jupiter's account of him boded no good. I dreaded
lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly
unsettled the reason of my friend. Without a moment's hesitation,
therefore, I prepared to accompany the <DW64>.
Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all
apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were to
embark.
"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired.
"Him syfe, massa, and spade."
"Very true; but what are they doing here?"
"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him in
de town, and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for em."
"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa Will'
going to do with scythes and spades?"
"Dat's more dan _I_ know, and debbil take me if I don't blieve 'tis
more dan he know, too. But it's all cum ob de bug."
Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose whole
intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped into the
boat and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the
little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of some two
miles brought us to the hut. It was about three in the afternoon when
we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. He
grasped my hand with a nervous _empressement_ which alarmed me and
strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His countenance was
pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural
lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not
knowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the _scarabæus_ from
Lieutenant G----.
"O yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the next
morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that _scarabæus_. Do you
know that Jupiter is quite right about it?"
"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart.
"In supposing it to be a bug of _real gold_." He said this with an air
of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked.
"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant
smile, "to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any wonder,
then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon
me, I have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the gold of
which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that _scarabæus_!"
"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug,--you mus
git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and
stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it
was enclosed. It was a beautiful _scarabæus_, and, at that time,
unknown to naturalists,--of course a great prize in a scientific point
of view. There were two round black spots near one extremity of the
back, and a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hard
and glossy, with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight of
the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things into
consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting
it; but what to make of Legrand's concordance with that opinion I could
not for the life of me tell.
"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had
completed my examination of the beetle,--"I sent for you, that I might
have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of
the bug--"
"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly
unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to
bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over this.
You are feverish and--"
"Feel my pulse," said he.
I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of
fever.
"But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to
prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next--"
"You are mistaken," he interposed; "I am as well as I can expect to be
under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you
will relieve this excitement."
"And how is this to be done?"
"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the
hills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall need the
aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can
trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you now
perceive in me will be equally allayed."
"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; "but do you mean to
say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your expedition
into the hills?"
"It has."
"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding."
"I am sorry--very sorry--for we shall have to try it by ourselves."
"Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!--but stay!--how long do
you propose to be absent?"
"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at all
events, by sunrise."
"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of
yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your
satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice
implicitly, as that of your physician?"
"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to lose."
With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four
o'clock,--Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him
the scythe and spades, the whole of which he insisted upon
carrying,--more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of
the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of
industry or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and
"dat deuced bug" were the sole words which escaped his lips during the
journey. For my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark-lanterns,
while Legrand contented himself with the _scarabæus_, which he carried
attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to and fro, with
the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I observed this last plain
evidence of my friend's aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain
from tears. I thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least
for the present, or until I could adopt some more energetic measures
with a chance of success. In the mean time I endeavored, but all in
vain, to sound him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having
succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold
conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my
questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!"
We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff,
and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the mainland, proceeded
in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of country excessively
wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was to be seen.
Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an instant, here
and there, to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of his own
contrivance upon a former occasion.
In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just
setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet
seen. It was a species of table-land, near the summit of an almost
inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and
interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the
soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselves
into the valleys below, merely by the support of the trees against
which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an air
of still sterner solemnity to the scene.
The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrown
with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would have been
impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by
direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot
of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or ten
oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and all other trees
which I had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in
the wide spread of its branches, and in the general majesty of its
appearance. When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and
asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little
staggered by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At
length he approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and
examined it with minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny,
he merely said,--
"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life."
"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark to
see what we are about."
"How far mus go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter.
"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to
go--and here--stop! take this beetle with you."
"De bug, Massa Will!--de goole-bug!" cried the <DW64>, drawing back in
dismay--"what for mus tote de bug way up de tree?--d--n if I do!"
"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big <DW64> like you, to take hold of a
harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this string;
but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under
the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel."
"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed into
compliance; "always want for to raise fuss wid old <DW65>. Was only
funnin anyhow. _Me_ feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" Here he
took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, maintaining
the insect as far from his person as circumstances would permit,
prepared to ascend the tree.
In youth, the tulip-tree, or _Liriodendron tulipiferum_, the most
magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and
often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in its
riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short limbs
make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, in
the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracing the
huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing
with his hands some projections, and resting his naked toes upon
others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at
length wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed to
consider the whole business as virtually accomplished. The _risk_ of
the achievement was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some
sixty or seventy feet from the ground.
"Which way mus go now, Massa Will?" he asked.
"Keep up the largest branch,--the one on this side," said Legrand. The
<DW64> obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble;
ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could
be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it. Presently his
voice was heard in a sort of halloo.
"How much fudder is got for go?"
"How high up are you?" asked Legrand.
"Ebber so fur," replied the <DW64>; "can see de sky fru de top ob de
tree."
"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk and
count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have you
passed?"
"One, two, tree, four, fibe,--I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon dis
side."
"Then go one limb higher."
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the seventh
limb was attained.
"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to work
your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see anything
strange, let me know."
By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor
friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but to
conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about
getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be done,
Jupiter's voice was again heard.
"Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far,--'tis dead limb putty
much all de way."
"Did you say it was a _dead_ limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand in a
quavering voice.
"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail--done up for sartain--done
departed dis here life."
"What in the name of Heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly in
the greatest distress.
"Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word; "why come
home and go to bed. Come, now!--that's a fine fellow. It's getting
late, and, besides, you remember your promise."
"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear me?"
"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain."
"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it
_very_ rotten."
"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the <DW64> in a few moments,
"but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought ventur out leetle way pon
de limb by myself, dat's true."
"By yourself!--what do you mean?"
"Why I mean de bug. 'Tis _berry_ hebby bug. Spose I drop him down fuss,
and den de limb won't break wid just de weight ob one <DW65>."
"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved,
"what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you
drop that beetle I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you hear
me?"
"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor <DW65> dat style."
"Well! now listen!--if you will venture out on the limb as far as you
think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present of a
silver dollar as soon as you get down."
"I'm gwine, Massa Will,--deed I is," replied the <DW64> very
promptly,--"mos out to the e | 1,373.46012 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.4410180 | 7,396 | 18 |
Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the
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[Illustration: TAINE, DANTE, GOETHE, CERVANTES]
THE BEST
_of the_
WORLD'S CLASSICS
RESTRICTED TO PROSE
HENRY CABOT LODGE
_Editor-in-Chief_
FRANCIS W. HALSEY
_Associate Editor_
With an Introduction, Biographical
and Explanatory Notes, etc.
IN TEN VOLUMES
Vol. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
* * * * *
The Best of the World's Classics
VOL. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
* * * * *
CONTENTS
VOL. VIII--CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FRANCE--CONTINUED
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE--(Born in 1805, died in 1859.)
The Tyranny of the American Majority.
(From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by Henry Reeve)
ALFRED DE MUSSET--(Born in 1810, died in 1857.)
Titian's Son After a Night at Play.
(From "Titian's Son." Translated by Erie Arthur Bell)
THEOPHILE GAUTIER--(Born in 1811, died in 1872.)
Pharaoh's Entry into Thebes.
(From the "Romance of a Mummy." Translated by M. Young)
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT--(Born in 1821, died in 1880.)
Yonville and Its People.
(From Part II of "Madame Bovary." Translated by Eleanor Marx-Aveling)
JOSEPH ERNEST RENAN--(Born in 1823, died in 1892.)
An Empire in Robust Youth.
(From the "History of the Origins of Christianity.")
HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE--(Born in 1828, died in 1893.)
I Thackeray as a Satirist.
(From Book V, Chapter II, of the "History of English Literature."
Translated by H. van Laun)
II When the King Got up for the Day.
(From "The Ancient Regime." Translated by John Durand)
EMILE ZOLA--(Born in 1840, died in 1902.)
Glimpses of Napoleon III in Time of War.
(From "La Debacle." Translated by E. P. Robins)
ALPHONSE DAUDET--(Born in 1840, died in 1897.)
I A Great Man's Widow.
(From "Artists' Wives." Translated by Laura Ensor)
II My First Dress Coat.
(From "Thirty Years of Paris." Translated by Laura Ensor)
GUY DE MAUPASSANT--(Born in 1850, died in 1893.)
Madame Jeanne's Last Days.
(From the last chapter of "A Life." Translated by Eric Arthur Bell)
GERMANY
1483-1859
MARTIN LUTHER--(Born in 1483, died in 1546.)
Some of His Table Talk and Sayings.
(From the "Table Talk.")
GOTTHOLD E. LESSING--(Born in 1729, died in 1781.)
I Poetry and Painting Compared.
(From the preface to the "Laocoon." Translated by E. C. Beasley and
Helen Zimmern)
II Of Suffering Held in Restraint.
(From Chapter I of the "Laocoon." Translated by Beasley and Zimmern)
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE--(Born in 1749, died in 1832.)
I On First Reading Shakespeare.
(From "Wilhelm Meister." Translated by Thomas Carlyle)
II The Coronation of Joseph II.
(From Book XII of the "Autobiography." Translated by John Oxenford)
FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER--(Born in 1759, died in 1808.)
I The Battle of Lutzen.
(From the "History of the Thirty Years' War." Translated by A. J. W.
Morrison)
II Philip II and the Netherlands.
(From the introduction to the "History of the Revolt of the
Netherlands." Translated by Morrison)
WILHELM VON SCHLEGEL--(Born in 1767, died in 1845.)
Shakespeare's "Macbeth."
(From the "Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature." Translated by
John Black, revised by A. J. W. Morrison)
ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT--(Born in 1769, died in 1859.)
An Essay on Man.
(From his "General Review of Natural Phenomena." in Volume I of
"Cosmos." Translated by E. C. Otto and W. S. Dallas)
HEINRICH HEINE--(Born in 1799, died in 1856.)
Reminiscences of Napoleon.
(From Chapters VII, VIII and IX of "Travel Pictures." Translated by
Francis Storr)
ITALY
1254-1803
MARCO POLO--(Born in 1254, died in 1324.)
A Description of Japan.
(From the "Travels.")
DANTE ALIGHIERI--(Born in 1265, died in 1321.)
I That Long Descent Makes No Man Noble.
(From Book IV, Chapter XIV of "The Banquet." Translated by Katharine
Hillard)
II Of Beatrice and Her Death.
(From "The New Life." Translated by Charles Eliot Norton)
FRANCESCO PETRARCH--(Born in 1304, died in 1374.)
Of Good and Evil Fortune.
(From the "Treatise on the Remedies of Good and Bad Fortune.")
GIOVANNI BOCCACIO--(Born probably in 1313, died in 1375.)
The Patient Griselda.
(From the "Decameron.")
NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI--(Born in 1469, died in 1527.)
Ought Princes to Keep Their Promises?
(From Chapter XVIII of "The Prince.")
BENVENUTO CELLINI--(Born in 1500, died in 1571.)
The Casting of His "Perseus and Medusa."
(From the "Autobiography." Translated by William Roscoe)
GIORGIO VASARI--(Born in 1511, died in 1574.)
Of Raphael and His Early Death.
(From "The Lives of the Most Famous Painters, Sculptors and
Architects." Translated by Mrs. Jonathan Foster)
CASANOVA DE SEINGALT--(Born in 1725, died probably in 1803.)
His Interview with Frederick the Great.
(From the "Memoirs.")
OTHER COUNTRIES
1465-1909
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS--(Born in 1465, died in 1536.)
Specimens of His Wit and Wisdom.
(From various books)
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES--(Born in 1547, died in 1616.)
I The Beginnings of Don Quixote's Career.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
II Of How Don Quixote Died.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN--(Born in 1805, died in 1875.)
The Emperor's New Clothes.
(From the "Tales.")
IVAN SERGEYEVITCH TURGENEFF--(Born in 1818, died in 1883.)
Bazarov's Death.
(From "Fathers and Children." Translated by Constance Garnett)
HENRIK IBSEN--(Born in 1828, died in 1906.)
The Thought Child.
(From "The Pretenders." Translated by William Archer)
COUNT LEO TOLSTOY--(Born in 1828.)
Shakespeare Not a Great Genius.
(From "A Critical Essay on Shakespeare." Translated by V. Tchertkoff
and I. F. M.)
* * * * *
FRANCE (Continued)
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
Born in Paris in 1805, died in 1859; studied law, taking his
degree in 1826; traveled in Italy and Sicily; in 1831
visited the United States under a commission to study the
penitentiary system; returning published a book on the
subject which was crowned by the French Academy; from
private notes taken in America then wrote his masterpiece,
"Democracy in America," which secured his election to the
Academy in 1841; spent some years in public life and then
retired in order to travel and write.
THE TYRANNY OF THE AMERICAN MAJORITY[1]
I hold it to be an impious and execrable maxim that, politically
speaking, the people has a right to do whatever it pleases; and yet I
have asserted that all authority originates in the will of the
majority. Am I then in contradiction with myself?
[Footnote 1: From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by
Henry Reeve.]
A general law, which bears the name of justice, has been made and
sanctioned not only by a majority of this or that people, but by a
majority of mankind. The rights of every people are consequently
confined within the limits of what is just. A nation may be considered
in the light of a jury which is empowered to represent society at
large and to apply the great and general law of justice. Ought such a
jury, which represents society, to have more power than the society in
which the law it applies originates?
When I refuse to obey an unjust law, I do not contest the right which
the majority has of commanding, but I simply appeal from the
sovereignty of the people to the sovereignty of mankind. It has been
asserted that a people can never entirely outstep the boundaries of
justice and of reason in those affairs which are more peculiarly its
own; and that consequently, full power may fearlessly be given to the
majority by which it is represented. But this language is that of a
slave.
A majority, taken collectively, may be regarded as a being whose
opinions, and most frequently whose interests are opposed to those of
another being, which is styled a minority. If it be admitted that a
man possessing absolute power may misuse that power by wronging his
adversaries, why should a majority not be liable to the same reproach?
Men are not apt to change their characters by agglomerating; nor does
their patience in the presence of obstacles increase with the
consciousness of their strength. And for these reasons I can never
willingly invest any number of my fellow creatures with that unlimited
authority which I should refuse to any one of them.
I do not think that it is possible to combine several principles in
the same government so as at the same time to maintain freedom and
really to oppose them to one another. The form of government which is
usually termed mixt has always appeared to me to be a mere chimera.
Accurately speaking, there is no such thing as a mixt government, with
the meaning usually given to that word; because in all communities
some one principle of action may be discovered which preponderates
over the others. England in the last century--which has been more
especially cited as an example of this form of government--was in
point of fact an essentially aristocratic state, altho it comprized
very powerful elements of democracy; for the laws and customs of the
country were such that the aristocracy could not but preponderate in
the end, and subject the direction of public affairs to its own will.
The error arose from too much attention being paid to the actual
struggle that was going on between the nobles and the people, without
considering the probable issue of the contest, which was really the
important point. When a community actually has a mixt government--that
is to say, when it is equally divided between two adverse
principles--it must either pass through a revolution or fall into
complete dissolution.
I am therefore of opinion that some one social power must always be
made to predominate over the others; but I think that liberty is
endangered when this power finds no obstacle which can <DW44> its
course, and force it to moderate its own vehemence.
Unlimited power is in itself a bad and dangerous thing. Human beings
are not competent to exercise it with discretion. God only can be
omnipotent, because His wisdom and His justice are always equal to His
power. But no power on earth is so worthy of honor for itself that I
would consent to admit its uncontrolled and all-predominant authority.
When I see that the right and the means of absolute command or of
reverential obedience to the right which it represents are conferred
on a people or upon a king, upon an aristocracy or a democracy, a
monarchy or a republic, I recognize the germ of tyranny; and I journey
onward to a land of more hopeful institutions.
In my opinion, the main evil of the present democratic institutions of
the United States does not arise, as is often asserted in Europe, from
their weakness, but from their irresistible strength. I am not so much
alarmed at the excessive liberty which reigns in that country as at
the very inadequate securities which exist against tyranny.
When an individual or a party is wronged in the United States, to whom
can he apply for redress? If to public opinion, public opinion
constitutes the majority; if to the legislature, it represents the
majority, and implicitly obeys its instructions; if to the executive
power, it is appointed by the majority, and is a passive tool in its
hands. The public troops consist of the majority under arms; the jury
is the majority invested with the right of hearing judicial cases; and
in certain cases, even the judges are elected by the majority. However
iniquitous or absurd the evil of which you complain may be, you must
submit to it as well as you can.
If, on the other hand, a legislative power could be so constituted as
to represent the majority without necessarily being the slave of its
passions, an executive so as to retain a certain degree of
uncontrolled authority, and a judiciary so as to remain independent of
the other two powers, a government would be formed which would still
be democratic, without incurring any risk of tyranny.
I do not say that there is a frequent use of tyranny in America at the
present day; but I maintain that no sure barrier is established
against it, and that the causes which mitigate the government are to
be found in the circumstances and the manners of the country more than
in its laws.
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Born in 1810, died in 1857; educated at the College of Henry
II in Paris; published "Tales of Spain and Italy," a volume
of verse, in 1829; followed by other collections of verse in
1831 and 1832; went to Italy in 1833 with George Sand, with
whom he quarreled in Venice and returned to France;
published "Confessions of a Child of the Century" in 1836;
wrote stories and plays as well as poems; elected to the
Academy in 1852.
TITIAN'S SON AFTER A NIGHT AT PLAY[2]
In the month of February of the year 1580 a young man was crossing the
Piazzeta at Venice at early dawn. His clothes were in disorder, his
cap, from which hung a beautiful scarlet feather, was pulled down over
his ears. He was walking with long strides toward the banks of the
Schiavoni, and his sword and cloak were dragging behind him, while
with a somewhat disdainful foot he picked his way among the fishermen
lying asleep on the ground. Having arrived at the bridge of Paille,
he stopt and looked around him. The moon was setting behind the
Giudecca and the dawn was gilding the Ducal Palace. From time to time
thick smoke or a brilliant light could be seen from some neighboring
palace. Planks, stones, enormous blocks of marble, and debris of every
kind obstructed the Canal of the Prisons. A recent fire had just
destroyed the home of a patrician which lined its banks. A volley of
sparks shot up from time to time, and by this sinister light an armed
soldier could be seen keeping watch in the midst of the ruins.
[Footnote 2: From De Musset's story, "Titian's Son." Translated for
this collection by Eric Arthur Bell. Titian's son, who was named
Pomponio, had been destined for the Church, but proving wasteful and
dissipated, his father caused the benefice intended for him to be
transferred to a nephew. Through the death of Titian's other son
Orazio, an artist of repute, who died soon after Titian and during the
same plague, Pomponio inherited the handsome fortune his father had
left and completely squandered it.]
Our young man, however, did not seem to be imprest either with this
spectacle of destruction or with the beauty of the sky, tinged with
the rosy colors of the dawning day. He looked for some time at the
horizon, as if to ease his tired eyes; but the brightness of the dawn
seemed to produce in him a disagreeable effect, for he wrapt himself
in his cloak and pursued his way at a run. He soon stopt again at the
door of a palace, where he knocked. A valet, holding a torch in his
hand, admitted him immediately. As he entered he turned round, and
casting one more glance at the sky, exclaimed, "By Bacchus! my
carnival has cost me dear."
This young man was called Pomponio Filippo Vecellio. He was the second
son of Titian, a youth full of spirit and imagination who had aroused
in his father the most lofty expectations, but whose passion for cards
kept him in continual dissipation. It was only four years before that
the great painter and his eldest son, Orazio, had died almost at the
same time, and young Pippo in those four years had already dissipated
the best part of the immense fortune which the double heritage had
given him. Instead of cultivating the talents which he possest by
nature and sustaining the glory of his name, he passed his days in
sleeping and his nights in playing at the house of a certain Countess
Orsini, or at least so-called countess, who made a profession of
ruining the gilded youth of Venice. Every night there assembled at her
house a large company composed of nobles and courtezans; there one
supped and played, and as one did not pay for one's supper, it goes
without saying that the dice helped to indemnify the mistress of the
house. Meanwhile, the sequins and the Cyprian wine began to flow
freely, loving glances were exchanged, and the victims, drunk with
love and wine, lost their money and their reason.
It is from this dangerous resort that we have seen the hero of this
story emerge. He had met with more than one loss during the night.
Besides having emptied his pockets at cards; the only picture he had
ever finished, one that the connoisseurs had pronounced excellent, had
just been destroyed in a fire in the Dolfino palace. It was an
historical subject, treated with a spirit and a sureness of touch
almost worthy of Titian himself. Sold to a rich Senator, this canvas
had met with the same fate as a great number of other previous works
of art; the carelessness of a valet had turned it to ashes. But this
Pippo counted the least of his misfortunes; he was only thinking of
the unlucky star that had lately been following him with unusual
insistence and of the throws of dice it had made him lose.
On entering his house, he began by taking off the coverlet which lay
on his table and counting the money left in his drawer; then, as he
was of a nature naturally gay and optimistic, after he had undrest he
sat at the window in his night robe. Seeing that it was almost
daylight, he began to ponder whether he would close the shutters and
get into bed, or get up like everybody else. It was a long time since
he had seen the sun in the east, and he found the sky more beautiful
than ever. Before deciding whether to wake up or go to sleep, he took
his chocolate on the balcony, in an effort to fight off his
drowsiness. The moment his eyes closed, he would see a table, many
trembling hands and pale faces, and would hear again the sound of the
cornets. "What fatal luck," he murmured. "Is it possible that one can
lose with fifteen?" And he saw his habitual opponent, old Vespiano
Memmo, throwing eighteen and taking up the money piled on the table.
He promptly opened his eyelids to get rid of the bad dream, and looked
at the young girls passing on the quay. He seemed to see in the
distance a masked woman; and was astonished, altho it was the time of
carnival, for poor people do not go masked, and it was strange that at
such an hour a Venetian lady should be out alone on foot. He
perceived, however, that what he had taken for a mask was the face of
a negress. On getting a nearer look at her, he saw she was not badly
formed. She walked very quickly, and a puff of wind which forced her
checkered skirt close to her limbs, showed her to have a graceful
figure. Pippo leaned over the balcony and saw not without surprize
that the negress knocked at his door.
The porter failed to open it.
"What do you want?" cried the young man. "Is it with me that your
business lies, brunette? My name is Vecellio, and if they are going to
keep you waiting, I will come and let you in myself."
The negress lifted her head.
"Your name is Pomponio Vecellio?"
"Yes, or Pippo, whichever you like."
"You are the son of Titian?"
"At your service. What can I do to please you?"
Having cast on Pippo a rapid and curious glance, the negress took a
few steps backward, and skilfully threw up into the balcony a little
box rolled in paper, and then promptly fled, turning round from time
to time. Pippo picked up the box, opened it, and found a pretty purse
wrapt in cotton. He rightly suspected that he might find under the
cotton a note that would explain this adventure. The note was found
indeed, but it was as mysterious as the rest, for it contained only
these words: "Do not spend too readily what I enclose herein; when you
leave home, charge me with one piece of gold. It is enough for one
day; and if in the evening you have any of it left, however little, it
may be you will find some poor person who will thank you for it."
The young man examined the box in a hundred different ways,
scrutinized the purse, looked once more on to the quay, and at length
realized that he had learned all he could. "Of a truth," thought he,
"this is a strange present, but it comes at a cruelly awkward moment.
The advice they give me is good, but it is too late to tell people to
swim when they are already at the bottom of the Adriatic. Who the
devil could have sent me this?"
THEOPHILE GAUTIER
Born in 1811, died in 1872; studied painting in Paris, but
soon joined the romantic literary movement; his first book,
"Poesies," published in 1830; an art and dramatic critic
1837-45; traveled in Spain, Holland, Italy, Greece and
Russia in 1840-58, publishing books describing those
countries and novels with them for scenes; many other novels
followed, with occasional collections of verse and
criticism.
PHARAOH'S ENTRY INTO THEBES[3]
At length their chariot reached the maneuvering-ground, an immense
enclosure, carefully leveled, used for splendid military displays.
Terraces, one above the other, which must have employed for years the
thirty nations led away into slavery, formed a frame _en relief_ for
the gigantic parallelogram; sloping walls built of crude bricks lined
these terraces; their tops were covered, several rows deep, by
hundreds of thousands of Egyptians, whose white or brightly
costumes blazed in the sun with that perpetually restless movement
which characterizes a multitude, even when it appears motionless;
behind this line of spectators the cars, chariots, and litters, with
their drivers, grooms, and slaves, looked like the encampment of an
emigrating nation, such was their immense number; for Thebes, the
marvel of the ancient world, counted more inhabitants than did some
kingdoms.
[Footnote 3: From the "Romance of a Mummy." Translated by M. Young, as
authorized by Gautier.]
The fine, even sand of the vast arena, bordered with a million heads,
gleamed like mica dust beneath the light, falling from a sky as blue
as the enamel on the statuettes of Osiris. On the south side of the
field the terraces were broken, making way for a road which stretched
toward Upper Ethiopia, the whole length of the Libyan chain. In the
corresponding corner, the opening in the massive brick walls prolonged
the roads to the Rhamses-Maiamoun palace....
A frightful uproar, rumbling, deep, and mighty as that of an
approaching sea, arose in the distance, and drowned the thousand
murmurs of the crowd, like the roar of the lion which hushes the
barking of the jackals. Soon the noise of instruments of music could
be distinguished amidst this terrestrial thunder, produced by the
chariot wheels and the rhythmic pace of the foot-soldiers. A sort of
reddening cloud, like that raised by the desert blasts, filled the sky
in that direction, yet the wind had gone down; there was not a breath
of air, and the smallest branches of the palm-trees hung motionless,
as if they had been carved on a granite capital; not a hair moved on
the women's moist foreheads, and the fluted streamers of their
head-dresses hung loosely down their backs. This powdery fog was
caused by the marching army, and hung over it like a fallow cloud.
The tumult increased; the whirlwinds of dust opened, and the first
files of musicians entered the immense arena, to the great
satisfaction of the multitude, who in spite of its respect for his
Majesty were beginning to tire of waiting beneath a sun which would
have melted any other skulls than those of the Egyptians. The advance
guard of musicians halted for several instants; colleges of priests,
deputations of the principal inhabitants of Thebes, crossed the
maneuvering-ground to meet the Pharaoh, and arranged themselves in a
row in postures of the most profound respect, in such manner as to
give free passage to the procession. The band, which alone was a small
army, consisted of drums, tabors, trumpets, and sistras.
The first squad passed, blowing a deafening blast upon their short
clarions of polished brass which shone like gold. Each of these
trumpeters carried a second horn under his arm, as if the instrument
might grow weary sooner than the man. The costume of these men
consisted of a short tunic, fastened by a sash with ends falling in
front; a small band, in which were stuck two ostrich-feathers hanging
over on either side, bound their thick hair. These plumes, so worn,
recalled to mind the antennae of scarabaei, and gave the wearers an odd
look of being insects.
The drummers, clothed in a simple gathered skirt, and naked to the
waist, beat the onager-skin heads of their rounded drums with
sycamore-wood drumsticks, their instruments suspended by leather
shoulder-belts, and observed the time which a drum-major marked for
them by repeatedly turning toward them and clapping his hands. After
the drummers came the sistra-players, who shook their instruments by a
quick, abrupt motion, and made at measured intervals the metal links
ring on the four bronze bars. The tabor-players carried their oblong
instruments crosswise, held up by a scarf passed around the neck, and
struck the lightly stretched parchment with both hands.
Each company of musicians numbered at least two hundred men; but the
hurricane of noise produced by trumpets, drums, tabors, and sistras,
and which would have drawn blood from the ears inside a palace, was
none too loud or too unbearable beneath the vast cupola of heaven, in
the midst of this immense open space, amongst this buzzing crowd, at
the head of this army which would baffle nomenclators, and which was
now advancing with a roar as of great waters.
After the musicians came the barbarian captives, strangely formed,
with brutish faces, black skins, woolly hair, resembling apes as much
as men, and drest in the costume of their country, a short skirt above
the hips, held by a single brace, embroidered in different colors. An
ingenious and whimsical cruelty had suggested the way in which the
prisoners were chained. Some were bound with their elbows drawn behind
their backs; others with their hands lifted above their heads, in a
still more painful position; one had his wrists fastened in wooden
cangs (instruments of torture, still used in China); another was
half-strangled in a sort of pillory; or a chain of them were linked
together by the same rope, each victim having a knot round his neck.
It seemed as if those who had bound these unfortunates had found a
pleasure in forcing them into unnatural positions; and they advanced
before their conqueror with awkward and tottering gait, rolling their
large eyes and contorted with pain. Guards walked beside them,
regulating their step by beating them with staves....
A wide gorget with seven rows of enamels, precious stones, and golden
beads fell over the Pharaoh's chest and gleamed brightly in the
sunlight. His upper garment was a sort of loose shirt, with pink and
black squares; the ends, lengthening into narrow slips, were wound
several times about his bust and bound it closely; the sleeves, cut
short near the shoulder, and bordered with intersecting lines of gold,
red, and blue, exposed his round, strong arms, the left furnished with
a large metal wristband, meant to lessen the vibration of the string
when he discharged an arrow from his triangular bow; and the right,
ornamented by a bracelet in the form of a serpent in several coils,
held a long gold scepter with a lotus bud at the end. The rest of his
body was wrapt in drapery of the finest linen, minutely plaited, bound
about the waist by a belt inlaid with small enamel and gold plates.
Between the band and the belt his torso appeared, shining and polished
like pink granite shaped by a cunning workman. Sandals with returned
toes, like skates, shod his long narrow feet, placed together like
those of the gods on the temple walls.
His smooth beardless face, with large clearly cut features, which it
seemed beyond any human power to disturb, and which the blood of
common life did not color, with its death-like pallor, sealed lips,
enormous eyes enlarged with black lines, the lids no more lowered than
those of the sacred hawk, inspired by its very immobility a feeling of
respectful fear. One might have thought that these fixt eyes were
searching for eternity and the Infinite; they never seemed to rest on
surrounding objects. The satiety of pleasures, the surfeit of wishes
satisfied as soon as exprest, the isolation of a demigod who has no
equal among mortals, the disgust for perpetual adoration, and as it
were weariness of continual triumph, had forever frozen this face,
implacably gentle and of granite serenity. Osiris judging the souls
could not have had a more majestic and calm expression. A large tame
lion, lying by his side, stretched out its enormous paws like a sphinx
on its pedestal, and blinked its yellow eyes.
A rope, attached to the litter, bound the war chariots of the
vanquished chiefs to the Pharaoh. He dragged them behind him like
animals in leash. These men, with fierce despairing faces, their
elbows drawn together by a strap and forming an ungraceful angle,
tottered awkwardly at every motion of the char | 1,373.461058 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.5387470 | 123 | 20 |
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TOBIAS
SMOLLETT
[Illustration: PAGE DECORATIONS]
TOBIAS
SMOLLETT
BY
OLIPHANT
SMEATON
FAMOUS
SCOTS
SERIES
PUBLISHED BY:
CHARLES
SCRIBNER’S SONS
NEW | 1,373.558787 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.5406640 | 87 | 8 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: FORT SUMTER.]
REMINISCENCES
OF
FORTS SUMTER AND MOULTRIE
IN 1860-'61
BY | 1,373.560704 |
2023-11-16 18:39:57.6386680 | 7,416 | 37 |
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note: text originally italicized is rendered herein
with underscores before and after. Small-caps are rendered as
all uppercase.
COPYRIGHT 1910 BY OREGON SHORT LINE
TEXT BY EDWARD F. COLBORN PHOTOS BY F. J. HAYNES
TO GEYSERLAND
[Illustration: Geyser.]
UNION PACIFIC--OREGON SHORT LINE RAILROADS
TO THE YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK
Connecting with Transcontinental Trains from all points East and
West thence through the Park by the four-horse Concord coaches
of the M-Y STAGE COMPANY
[Illustration: The Great Falls of the Yellowstone]
GEYSERLAND
Where in confusion canyons and mountains and swift running rivers with
painted banks abound, and elk and deer, buffalo and bear range through
the wilds unterrified by man and gun, and tall, straight pines in almost
unbroken forests plant their feet in a tangle of down-timber that
centuries were required to produce; where in the earth there are vents
through which roar and rush at exact intervals columns of boiling water,
sometimes more than two hundred feet high, or in which painted mud
blubbers and spurts; where pools by thousands at scalding heat boil and
murmur; where under one's feet is felt the hollow of the earth and
through hundreds of holes of unfathomable depth come deep growls of
Nature in her confinement; where dyes have been daubed in delirium on
hillsides and river's brink; where a canyon gashes the earth thousands
of feet through colors so vivid and varied that no record can write them
down; where one of the highest navigable lakes in the world washes the
feet of mountains that hold aloft the snows through every month of the
year; where the supernal and the infernal are blended in a harmony that
only Infinitude can produce, and every miracle of Creation has been
worked; where one can be lost in a wilderness as long as he will and
come face to face with almost every form of creative eccentricity--there
is _Geyserland_.
_The Way in and Out_
Yellowstone National Park is reached via the Union Pacific and its
connection, the Oregon Short Line, the New and Direct Route, over one
stem from Kansas City and Leavenworth, and over another from Council
Bluffs and Omaha. By way of the latter you cross the Missouri River over
a magnificent steel bridge and traverse the "Lane Cut Off," a splendid
illustration of modern railroad construction. If you journey over the
stem from Kansas City, your way leads through a succession of thriving
cities and towns amid the finest farming region of the West, and through
beautiful Denver, through Cheyenne, thence through Wyoming, and a
portion of Utah, to Ogden, from which point Salt Lake City, 37 miles
distant, is reached.
[Illustration: _The Cascades of the Firehole River_]
[Illustration: _Hayden Valley between Yellowstone Lake and the Falls_]
Leaving the central system of transcontinental lines, access to the Park
is had in a night by way of the Oregon Short Line Railroad from Salt
Lake City, Ogden, or Pocatello to the station, Yellowstone, Montana, at
the western border, nineteen miles from the Fountain Hotel.
All along this route are strewn stretches of delightful scenery, and
fields of rare fertility; but these things the tourist does not see--he
awakens for breakfast at Yellowstone, and an hour thereafter is
following the course of the beautiful Madison, well on his way into the
Park and to the wonders that there await him.
_The Scenery_
As a whole, the scenery of the Park is restful and satisfying. What it
lacks in the stupendous it makes up in softness of coloring and the
gentle undulations that lead gradually to the massive mountains. The
green of the pines, lightened and darkened here and there with the
shades of different species, is everywhere. The waters of the rivers are
dimmed by the shadows; the cascades have a glimmer and sparkle quite
their own, and now and then peep out in the sweeps of the distance,
little lakes that shimmer in the sun. Vagrant clouds of steam, signs of
the geysers and boiling springs, are seen all over the landscape,
especially in the early morning when a little of the night frost still
lingers in the air. Many grotesque shapes are taken on by the rocks, and
there is hardly a spring or pool that does not suggest its name by its
form. From the Lake Hotel can be seen facing skyward, the profile of a
human face so perfect it has long been called "The Sleeping Giant."
Yellowstone Lake is a marvel of beauty; the dense forest comes down to
its shores, little dots of islands sprinkle its surface, its waters are
crystal clear away into the deep, and under the kiss of the sun the face
of the sea takes on a glory altogether splendid.
[Illustration: _Keppler Cascades_]
[Illustration: Western Entrance]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Gibbon Falls]
[Illustration]
_Coaching in the Park_
The stage coach, the old-fashioned one with the lofty seat for the
driver and the boot and the thorough-brace, the rocking-cradle vehicle
that served so well when civilization was beating its way westward fifty
years ago, holds the first right-of-way through the Park. Driven from
use almost everywhere else by the iron horse, it has found safe refuge
there, and neither the railways nor the automobiles can enter to oppose
it.
[Illustration: _The Mud Geyser_]
[Illustration: _A Coaching Party_]
A good half of the pleasures of the tour is found in the coaching. To
watch for the coming of the stage at the door of the Inn where the
baggage is piled, and the porters and bell boys stand expectant--to hear
the clatter of the wheels, the sound of hoofs, and to see the gaily
harnessed horses in conscious pride swing the coach gracefully under the
Porte Cochere--to be wheeled over the winding, dustless roads at ten
miles an hour behind prancing leaders and wheelers--to be garbed as you
please without thought of style or detail--to breathe air distilled
among the fragrant pines--to be touched by breezes that fan your cheek
and dishevel your hair--to be free from all care and abandon yourself to
the delights that come with the everchanging scenes that panoramic
Nature is constantly unfolding to your gaze--is to experience an
exhilaration never to be found among the busy haunts of men.
The drivers, gentlemanly and skillful, are full of information, and you
do the 158 miles from Yellowstone around the circle back to Yellowstone
with so little fatigue that you regret the trip is not longer.
_Park Regulations and Improvements_
Two companies of United States Cavalry are stationed at Fort
Yellowstone, and, during the summer detachments of these troops are
placed in different parts of the reservation. Their duties are to patrol
the Park, prevent the spreading of forest fires and the commission of
acts of vandalism. The troops have authority to make arrests for any
violation of Park regulations. Hunting is especially prohibited, and all
guns are officially sealed at the entrance to the Park.
The commanding officer at Fort Yellowstone is Acting Superintendent of
the reservation. All rules and regulations emanate from the Department
of the Interior, and printed copies of them will be found posted in all
Park Hotels.
The Government has constructed a system of macadamized roads of easy
grade throughout the Park, and these are kept sprinkled daily during the
Park season.
[Illustration: _The Crater of Oblong Geyser_]
[Illustration: _Punch Bowl Spring_]
[Illustration: Grotto Geyser Formation]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Rapids above Upper Falls]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: _Upper Geyser Basin_]
_The Geysers_
Nature has lavished her gifts on the region of the Yellowstone--wild
woodland, crystal rivers, gorgeous canyons and sparkling cascades--all
under the guard of mountain sentinels around whose lofty heads group
every form of cloud castle that vagrant winds can build. But of all the
wonders that God in His mysterious way has there worked to perform, none
is so strange--so startling--as the geysers.
To count them, great and small, would be like counting the stars, and to
measure in words their awful power, or picture their splendor of sparkle
and symmetry--that, no one can do. They must be seen to be appreciated,
and once seen--the memory and mystery of them will linger to the end of
the longest life. They are as different as geysers can be. There are
dead geysers--dead from bursted throats--mere boiling pools now--shaped
to resemble a variety of familiar things; with depths that the eye
cannot sound, and colors--blues, greens, purples, reds--down their deep
sides and in the wonderful tracery about their rims, so blended, so
beautiful that one may well believe that all the paints on the palette
of the Master were commingled in their decoration.
One blubbers and gurgles and grumbles awhile, and then with an angry
roar lifts a great column of mud into the air. Another steams and growls
through an orifice hundreds of feet wide in seeming angry spite that
years ago it blew out its throat and ceased to gush forever.[A] But the
geysers that most attract are the regular-timed spouting wonders--the
Giant and Giantess, Old Faithful, the Grand, the Fountain, the Castle
and others whose names mark the geography of the Park.
[A] In 1888, Excelsior, then the greatest geyser in the known world,
while playing with unusual vigor, ruptured its crater and has never
spouted since. In its former periods of activity it is said to have
raised the Firehole river seven feet in as many minutes with its waters.
(_Ed._)
[Illustration: _The Geysers in Winter_]
They are variously located in three distinct basins which are far enough
apart to give the traveler by stage a few geysers with each day's
entertainment. These basins are great wastes of a white deposition
called in Park vernacular "the formation" under which must be boiling
one of the mighty cauldrons of the earth, for one can feel under foot a
tremble, and can hear through a hundred orifices the hiss of steam and
the angry murmur of the waters below.
The coming and going of the geysers is an astonishing and awe-inspiring
spectacle, and so accurately timed and so certain to perform are they,
that no one need miss the experience. The geyser passive is a hole at
the summit of a cone. The cone rises gradually from the plane of the
formation and, ragged and deep, growls hoarsely and steams fitfully.
Thus it is a moment before its time for activity, and then comes the
geyser active. There is a loud preliminary roar and then suddenly, with
a rush and power almost terrifying, a white obelisk of scalding,
steaming water is lifted into the air sometimes 250 feet, and there held
scintillating and glistening in the sun until the play is over, when it
sinks gradually back from whence it came, and the fitful growling and
steaming begins anew.
Every geyser has a time of its own and there are thousands of them,
varying in size from the little growler that sputters and spits a
thimbleful from its tiny throat, to the Giant that three times a month
plays for ninety minutes, 250 feet high.
How old the geysers are, recorded time does not tell, but one or two of
the wise men, who are always measuring the duration of things by some
system of calculation, have determined by multiplying the deposition
from each eruption by the height of the cone, that the Giant, for
instance, has been playing some thousands of years.
If those who come and go across the land every year on pleasure bent
only knew how curious and beautiful geysers are, the National Park would
count its visitors by multitudes.
[Illustration: Old Faithful]
[Illustration: The Great Falls From Below]
[Illustration: _Old Faithful at Sunrise_]
_Old Faithful_
In imagination, lift in a symmetrical cone two hundred and fifty
thousand gallons of scalding, steaming water one hundred and fifty feet
high and hold it there three minutes; jewel the grand fountain with a
million diamonds; filter through it the hues of innumerable dancing
rainbows; commingle in confusion every sound of splash and splutter--and
you will have a faint idea of Old Faithful in action.
It is the immutable water-clock of the Yellowstone--the most perfect
illustration of geyseric phenomena--the most famous and beautiful geyser
in the whole world.
The note of the beginning of the play of the geyser is an angry growl
down deep in its throat whence almost instantly the water, in rapid
recurrent leaps, forms the stately fountain that plays for three minutes
and then slowly sinks into the earth to await its time to rise again.
Sometimes the winds unfold from its top an iridescent banner of spray;
but more often the fountain form is a perfect cone.
Old Faithful plays every seventy minutes and never disappoints. Visitors
to the Park may therefore see it under various conditions of light. In
the daytime, under the sun, it glistens and gleams with prismatic hues;
but the most enchanting hour to witness its performance is that when
night is falling--when the dusk is around it, and the last faint tints
of the sun linger in the sky. Then it is a spectre in ghostly white
standing against the sombre background of the wilderness--a sight
strange and startling and never to be forgotten.
It has long been the custom at Old Faithful Inn to flood the geyser at
night with the rays of a searchlight. Then the spectacle takes on new
features--all the rainbow hues are there, and looking through the
fountain along the sweep of light, one sees a bediamonded form more
beautiful than any ever wrought by the hands of the Ice King.
Verily, Old Faithful is one of the most wonderful presentations in all
the repertoire of Nature.
[Illustration: _The Great Falls from Point Lookout_]
_The Canyon and Falls of the Yellowstone_
The Canyon and Falls of the Yellowstone beggar description. They are
twin wonders in a Wonderland. Is there any other gorge as gorgeous as
that Canyon? With such gaiety of coloring--with such delicate and lovely
shades of yellows and reds, purples and pinks, greens and crimsons, all
commingling in harmony from the green-fringed brink, down, down the
craggy sides into sombre depths where the writhing, gleaming ribbon of
river thousands of feet below, plunges along on its winding way to the
sea?
And the falls--the drapery of the canyon--the two silvery curtains that
hang at its head--a great river pouring over a precipice and falling in
glassy sheets hundreds of feet, then ruffling and flouncing and
festooning until lost into the rainbow-hued mist at their feet.
See all this as thousands have and thousands will from "Inspiration
Point"--a rocky balcony over the gorge, with the eagle's nests below
you--or from "Artist's Point" on the other side, where Moran transferred
the glories of canyon and falls to canvas; or see it from any of the
other places where tourists love to linger and look, and you will see
the most tremendous, stupendous, alluring and altogether splendid
spectacle that Nature ever spread out for the wonder, amazement and
delight of mortal eyes.
[Illustration: MAP OF OREGON SHORT LINE, UNION PACIFIC,
OREGON-WASHINGTON RAILROAD & NAVIGATION CO., SOUTHERN PACIFIC AND
CONNECTIONS]
[Illustration: Bridge above The Rapids]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The Upper Falls]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK Oregon Short Line Railroad]
GEYSER TIME TABLE
_Corrected by observations made during season 1910.
From Haynes' Official Guide--Yellowstone National Park_
==================================================================
NAME HEIGHT DURATION INTERVALS OF ERUPTIONS
FEET
------------------------------------------------------------------
UPPER BASIN
Artemesia 50 10 minutes 12 to 24 hours
Bee-Hive 200 8 minutes 12 hours to 40 days
Castle 75 30 minutes 26 hours (freq. misses)
Cliff 100 8 minutes 4 to 8 hours
Comet 60 1 minute Irregular
Cub (Big) 30 10 minutes With Lioness Geyser
Cub (Little) 10 3 minutes With Lion Geyser
Daisy 75 2 minutes 45 to 60 minutes
Economic 20 10 seconds Follows Grand and plays
every 5 min. for 2 days
Fan 60 10 minutes 4 to 6 hours
Giant 250 90 minutes 7 to 12 days
Giantess 150 12-24 hours 16 to 25 days
Grand 200 40-80 minutes 2 to 20 days
Grotto 30 30 minutes 2 to 5 hours
Jewel 40 1 minute 5 minutes
Lion 60 8 minutes 6 to 12 hours
Lioness 100 10 minutes 15 to 20 days
Lone Star 75 10 minutes 1 to 2 hours
Mortar 30 5 minutes 2 hours
Oblong 35 5 minutes 7 to 8 hours
Old Faithful 150 4 minutes 65 to 75 minutes
Riverside 100 15 minutes 7 hours
Saw-Mill 35 2 hours 2 to 3 hours
Spasmodic 4 2 minutes 2 to 3 hours
Splendid 200 ---------- Ceased to play about 1892
Surprise 100 2 minutes Irregular
Turban 40 20 minutes With Grand Geyser
====================================================================
LOWER BASIN
Fountain 75 20 minutes 3 to 6 hours
Great Fountain 100 30 minutes 8 to 12 hours
====================================================================
MIDWAY BASIN
Excelsior 300 Variable 1 to 4 hours, ceased in 1888
====================================================================
NORRIS BASIN
Constant 20 10 seconds 30 seconds
Fearless 25 15 minutes 3 hours
Minute Man 15 1-3 minutes 1 to 3 minutes
Monarch 100 6 minutes 6 hours
Mud 20-60 1-2 minutes New, irregular
New Crater 20 1 minute 3 minutes
Valentine 100 40 minutes 7-1/2 hours
====================================================================
A FEW OF THE IMPORTANT POOLS AND SPRINGS
POOLS
Ace of Clubs
Black Sand (Deepest in Park--soundings, 300 feet)
Cannon Ball
Diamond
Devil's Pump
Devil's Well
Emerald
Five Sisters
Gem
Handkerchief
Oyster
Oyster Shell
Orange
Purple
Punch Bowl
Rainbow
Sapphire
Silver Bowl
Sunset
Surprise
Three Sisters
Tea Kettle
Topaz
Vault
SPRINGS
Arsenic
Apollinaris
Beauty
Beryl
Butterfly
Cleopatra
Castle
Congress
Devil's Ear
Iron
Morning Glory
Pearl
Peanut
Sponge
Soda
Soda Butte
Three Craters
[Illustration: Mammoth Hot Springs]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Hot Springs Cone]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_The Mammoth Hot Springs_
The structural features are the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel and the
garrison of Fort Yellowstone, around which, and in the vicinity of the
springs, the landscape gardener has produced many beautiful effects.
Here are found the most remarkable terrace-building hot springs in the
world. The formation is calcareous, and the deposition by the waters has
built up through the centuries cataracts in stone of indescribable
beauty through which the paints from the earth have been mingled and
blended with a vividness of coloring and a perfection of shading that
none but the Master's hand could work.
The waters are of such extraordinary transparency that the eye can only
guess at their depth. They are held steaming and pulsating in great
over-hanging bowls, from which they gently flow down over the stony
cataracts, carving and decorating as they go. Jupiter and Pulpit
Terraces are the master-pieces of Nature here; but there are hundreds of
other curious and beautiful things to see. The drive to and from Norris
is alive with interest. It leads through the Golden Gate, and on the way
can be seen Obsidian Cliff, Roaring Mountain, Beaver and Twin Lakes and
other attractive and curious features of topography.
[Illustration: _Mammoth Hotel_]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_The Tame Wild Animals_
The animals of the Park are objects of peculiar interest. No sound of
gun or bark of dog is ever heard, and the animals, though wild, have
become so tame that they give only curious notice to tourists as they
pass. Deer, elk and bear roam at will throughout Geyserland. The red
squirrel and the chipmunk scamper along the roadway, and those furry
little bundles, the wood-chucks, flatten out on the rocks and take no
heed of your passing. It is an everyday sight to see deer and their
young by the roadside, and now and then you get a glimpse of an antlered
elk, with his family of cows, swimming the streams of the Park. So much
has been accomplished by law in robbing man of his terrors to the wild,
that all of the animals in the Park, except those that--like the
mountain lion and sheep, frequent places inaccessible to travelers--have
well-nigh lost their fears.
The bears, some of them wrapped in robes that would command a fancy
price, come down in the evening from their homes in the hills to feed
around the hotels. The after-dinner entertainment they afford to guests
is an everyday pleasure.
[Illustration: _Feeding the Bear_]
[Illustration: The Giant Geyser]
[Illustration: Eagle Nest Rock]
[Illustration: _New Grand Canon Hotel_]
_The Inns_
They happen along at the end of each day's drive--great roomy structures
alive with light and full of comfort and good cheer. And such inns they
are--generous lobbies to lounge in before old-fashioned fire-places,
with their blazing, snapping logs--beds to sleep in, clean and
restful--prettily furnished rooms--and cookery and service almost too
good to be true. To find all these things in a far-away wilderness is to
wonder what magic was worked to bring them all about.
The great inn at Mammoth has in its foreground, three hundred feet high,
the wonderful, many-, and beautifully-formed Hot Springs Terraces
which belong in the list of the water-made wonders of the Park.
One of the inns--Old Faithful--cannot be matched anywhere in the
world. It is a lofty, wide-spreading structure of logs, with a
touch of Swiss about its gables and windows. Within, the logs are
everywhere--partitions, balustrades, stair-steps, and newel posts--even
the drinking fountain is a log. It must have been a mighty task to
search the forests for all the queer forms of growth that enter into the
construction of the curious, rustic interior. And the lobby, with its
four great cheerful fireplaces--its huge corn popper--its clock and
twenty-foot pendulum, and all the log-made galleries above it--that
charms and comforts beyond the power of words to tell.
[Illustration: _Old Faithful Inn_]
The inns are located nearby the greatest marvels of the Park and their
sites have been selected to show them off with admirable skill.
From the Fountain the geysers of the lower basin can be seen at their
play.
Old Faithful Inn looks out upon a great steaming, spouting field, and
has its namesake--the glory of all the geysers--almost at its doors. So
near, indeed, is it, that all the night through, at intervals of seventy
minutes, can be heard the old monster in eruption.
On a <DW72> that sweeps gently down to the waters sits the Lake Inn. The
forest creeps down to it on three sides, and the outlook from its goodly
porches is over the broad expanse of Yellowstone Lake--one of the
highest of navigated seas, and as passive, clear and prettily
tree-trimmed a sheet of water as there is in the world. You may reach
this inn from Thumb by steamer or by coach; but if you would have two
hours of ecstacy, take the steamer. Thumb is a lunch station, and the
lunch there is a creation.
The Canyon Inn is almost on the brink of the gorge where falls the
Yellowstone. It is a duplication in excellence of the other inns, and
when you bid it good-bye it is to begin your last day's tour of the
Park. Then comes Norris, with its geysers and its awful "Black Growler,"
and a lunch that will send the tourist on his homeward way with a
grateful heart. After that--Yellowstone--and the whistle of the engine
and the waiting Pullman--your tour is ended and the Park a pleasant
memory.
[Illustration: Golden Gate]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Pulpit Terrace]
[Illustration]
_The Stage Line_
[Illustration: _Lone Star Geyser_]
The M. & Y. Stage Company, operating from Yellowstone, Montana (The
Oregon Short Line terminus at the western entrance to the Park) is
licensed by and is under the direct supervision of the United States
Government.
The line is equipped with elegant new two and four-horse Concord coaches
and two-horse surreys, and the finest of horses.
The coaches accommodate eight and eleven passengers, the surreys three
and five passengers. The drivers have been especially selected for the
service, are well informed, and will point out every interesting feature
of the Park.
The five days' coaching over the line of this Company takes in all
interesting sights in the Park, and every effort is made by the
management to secure the comfort and pleasure of passengers.
Stop-over privileges at any Park hotel are allowed without additional
stage charge; but twenty-four hours' advance notice must be given to the
Stage Company of the coach to be taken. Parties so desiring can arrange
for special coaches or surreys for the Park trip. For further
information regarding coaches and transportation facilities through the
Park, address F. J. Haynes, President M. & Y. Stage Company, St. Paul,
Minn., or Yellowstone Park, Wyo.
THE YELLOWSTONE PARK FARES
Owing to the frequent changes of fares throughout the United States,
this publication will deal only with the round-trip fare from Salt Lake
City, Ogden, Pocatello and Yellowstone. Following fares from Pocatello
and Yellowstone are open to all passengers:--Fares from Ogden or Salt
Lake are side-trip fares available to holders of transcontinental
tickets of any class reading between Cheyenne, Denver, Colorado Springs,
Pueblo and points east thereof, on the one hand, and points west of the
eastern state line of Nevada via the Southern Pacific Company, San
Pedro, Los Angeles & Salt Lake R. R. or Western Pacific Railway, or west
of Pocatello, Idaho, via the Oregon Short Line R. R. on the other hand.
COMPLETE TOUR OF THE PARK From Salt Lake From
City, Ogden and Yellowstone.
Pocatello. Rail, Stage and
Stages and Hotel. Hotels.
Five-Day Trip via the Fountain,
Old Faithful, Lake and Canyon Inns, $55.50 $46.25
Mammoth Hot Springs and Norris
Hotel accommodations in the Park
(thirteen meals and four lodgings)
included in the ticket.
Fare for children covering rail
transportation only 4.65
MAIN POINTS OF INTEREST
Four-Day Trip via the Fountain,
Old Faithful, Lake
and Canyon Inns and Norris 45.50 36.25
Hotel accommodations in the Park
(ten meals and three lodgings)
included in the ticket.
Fare for children covering rail
transportation only 4.65
TO THE GEYSERS AND RETURN
Two-Day Trip--among the Geysers 25.50 16.25
Hotel accommodations in the Park
(four meals and one lodging)
included in the ticket.
Fare for children covering rail
transportation only 4.65
Children under eight years of age will be granted half rates
locally in the Park, on stage lines and at hotels.
For the season of 1911 the first date that passengers can leave
Yellowstone (western entrance) and make the tour of the Park is
June 16th; the last date leaving Yellowstone, September 16th.
BAGGAGE REGULATIONS
The baggage limit on coaches is 25 pounds. Excess rate per pound
10 cents. Trunks are not transported through the Park. They may be
stored free of charge at Yellowstone, Pocatello, Ogden or Salt
Lake City, or they will be sent around to Gardiner by rail for
tourists going out that way. Tourists entering via Gardiner and
touring the Park by coaches operating from there, if routed out
through the western entrance, will transfer to the M. & Y. Stage
Line at Norris. They should arrange at Mammoth for transfer of
baggage and Oregon Short Line Pullman reservations.
Provisions will be made at Yellowstone station for the care of
ladies' hats, and for cleaning and pressing clothing while
passengers are en tour through the Park. A nominal charge will be
made for this service.
GERRIT FORT Passenger Traffic Manager OMAHA, NEBRASKA
D. E. BURLEY General Passenger Agent SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
OREGON SHORT LINE RAILROAD
[Illustration: Mammoth Hot Springs]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Castle Geyser]
[Illustration]
FOR COMPLETE INFORMATION ADDRESS ANY OF THE FOLLOWING
ATLANTA, GA.
121 Peachtree St. A. J. DUTCHER _General Agent_
BOSTON, MASS.
176 Washington St. WILLARD MASSEY _New England Pass'r
Agent_
CHEYENNE, WYO.
E. R. BREISCH _Ticket Agent_
CHICAGO, ILL.
73 West Jackson W. G. NEIMYER _General Agent_
Boulevard
CINCINNATI, O.
53 East Fourth St. W. H. CONNOR _General Agent_
CLEVELAND, O.
305 Williamson Bldg. GEO. B. HILD _General Agent_
COUNCIL BLUFFS, IA.
522 Broadway WILLIAM B. _City Ticket Agent_
RICHARDS
DENVER, COLO.
935-41 Seventeenth R. S. RUBLE _Assistant Gen'l Pass'r
St. Agt. U. P. R. R._
DES MOINES, IA.
310 West Fifth St. J. W. TURTLE _Traveling Passenger
Agent_
DETROIT, MICH.
11 Fort Street West J. C. FERGUSON _General Agent_
HOUSTON, TEXAS
T. J. ANDERSON _Gen'l Pass'r Agt | 1,373.658708 |
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Transcriber's Notes:
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BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
NO. CCCLXX. AUGUST, 1846. VOL. LX.
CONTENTS.
THE ARMY, 129
MY COLLEGE FRIENDS. NO. IV. CHARLES RUSSELL,
THE GENTLEMAN COMMONER. CHAPTER I., 145
THE ROMANTIC DRAMA, 161
THE MINSTREL'S CURSE. FROM UHLAND, 177
THE MINE, THE FOREST, AND THE CORDILLERA, 179
"MORIAMUR PRO REGE NOSTRO," 194
MESMERIC MOUNTEBANKS, 223
COOKERY AND CIVILISATION, 238
THE LATE AND THE PRESENT MINISTRY, 249
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET;
AND 37, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
_To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed._
SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, EDINBURGH.
BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
NO. CCCLXX. AUGUST, 1846. VOL. LX.
THE ARMY.[1]
When we glance back at the bright page of British military history, so
thickly strewn with triumphs, so rarely checkered by a reverse, it seems
paradoxical to assert that the English are not a military nation. Such,
nevertheless, is the case. Our victories have been the result of no
especial fitness for the profession of arms, but of dauntless spirit and
cool stubborn courage, characterising the inhabitants of the narrow island
that breeds very valiant children. Mere bravery, however heroic, does not
of itself constitute an aptitude for the soldier's trade. Other qualities
are needful--qualities conspicuous in many European nations, but less
manifest in the Englishman. Naturally military nations are those of
France, the Highlands of Scotland, Poland, and Switzerland--every one of
them affording good specimens of the stuff peculiarly fitted for the
manufacture of soldiers. They all possess a martial bent, a taste for the
military career, submitting willingly to its hardships and privations, and
are endowed with a faculty of acquiring the management of offensive
weapons, with which for the most part they become acquainted early in
life. A system of national conscription, like that established in many
continental countries, is the readiest and surest means of giving a
military tone to the character of a people, and of increasing the civil
importance and respectability of an army. But without proceeding to so
extreme a measure, other ways may be devised of producing, as far as is
desirable, similar results.
We appeal to all intelligent observers, and especially to military men,
whom travel or residence upon the Continent have qualified to judge,
whether in any of the great European states the soldier has hitherto
obtained so little of the public attention and solicitude as in England?
Whether in any country he is so completely detached from the population,
enjoying so little sympathy, in all respects so uncared for and unheeded
by the masses, and, we are sorry to say it, often so despised and looked
down upon, even by those classes whence he is taken? Let war call him to
the field, and for a moment he forces attention: his valour is extolled,
his fortitude admired, his sufferings are pitied. But when peace, bought
by his bravery and blood, is concluded, what ensues? Houses of Parliament
thank and commend him, towns illuminate in honour of his deeds, pensions
and peerages are showered upon his chiefs, perhaps some brief indulgence
is accorded to himself; but it is a nine days' wonder, and those elapsed,
no living creature, save barrack masters, inspecting officers, and
Horse-guards authorities, gives him another thought, or wastes a moment
upon the consideration of what might render him a happier and a better
man. Like a well-tried sabre that has done its work and for the present
may lie idle, he is shelved in the barrack room, to be occasionally
glanced at with pride and satisfaction. Hilt and scabbard are, it is true,
kept carefully polished--drill and discipline are maintained; but
insufficient pains are taken to ascertain whether rust corrodes the blade,
whether the trusty servant, whose achievements have been so glorious and
advantageous, does not wear out his life in discouragement and
despondency. But this state of things, we hope and believe, is about to
change. We rejoice to see a daily increasing disposition on the part of
English legislators and of the English nation, to investigate and amend
the condition of their gallant defenders. If war is justly considered the
natural state of an army,[2] peace, on the other hand, is the best time to
moot and discuss measures likely to raise its character and increase its
efficiency.
We do not fear to be accused of advocating change for its own sake, or
what is vulgarly nicknamed Reform, in any of the institutions of this
country, whether civil or military. But we rejoice at the appearance of
books calculated to direct attention, we will not say to the abuses of the
army, but to its possible improvement. And we know no class of men better
qualified to write such books than army surgeons, whose occupations, when
attached to regiments, bring them of necessity into more frequent contact
with a greater variety of men, and to a more intimate acquaintance with
the soldier's real character and feelings, than the duties of field or
company officers in our service either exact or permit.
"To obviate the reproaches I may encounter for presuming to write upon
subjects altogether military, I may be allowed to state, that during a
quarter of a century that I served with the armies of the country, I
officiated as surgeon of three different regiments in different parts of
the world. I embarked nine times from the shores of Britain with armaments
on foreign expeditions, and out of twenty-four years' actual service, (for
the year of the peace of Amiens has to be deducted,) I spent seventeen
years, or parts of them, in other climates, passing through every grade of
medical rank, in every variety of service, even to the sister service of
the navy."--DR. FERGUSSON. _Preface._
These are the men, or we greatly err, to write books about the army. They
may not be conversant with tactics in the field, although even of those,
unless they wilfully shut both eyes and ears, they can hardly avoid
acquiring some knowledge. But on other matters connected with soldiers and
armies, they must be competent to speak, and should be listened to as
authorities. We look upon Dr Fergusson's testimony, and upon the
information--the result of his vast experience--which he gives us in
concise form and plain language, as most valuable; although some of the
changes he suggests have been accomplished, wholly or partially, since his
book was written. Mr Marshall's opportunities of personal observation
have, we suspect, been less extensive; but to atone for such deficiency,
he has been a diligent reader, and he places before us a host of military
authorities, references and statistical tables. The value of his
authorities may, perhaps, here and there be questioned; and he sometimes
gives, in the form of extracts, statements unauthenticated by a name, but
of which he does not himself seem to accept the responsibility.
Nevertheless, his book has merit, and is not unlikely to accomplish both
the objects proposed by its author,--namely, "to supply some information
respecting the constitution, laws, and usages of the army, and to excite
attention to the means which may melior | 1,373.662787 |
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Persuasion
by
Jane Austen
(1818)
Chapter 1
Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who,
for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there
he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed | 1,373.754837 |
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SHORT STUDIES IN ETHICS
_AN ELEMENTARY TEXT-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS_
BY
REV. J. O. MILLER, M.A.,
_Principal of Bishop Ridley College_
TORONTO:
THE BRYANT PRESS
1895
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the office of
the Minister of Agriculture, by REV. J. O. MILLER, M.A., St. Catharines,
Canada.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I. DUTY 7
II. OBEDIENCE 15
III. TRUTHFULNESS 19
IV. COURAGE 24
V. PURITY 30
VI. UNSELFISHNESS 35
VII. HONESTY 40
VIII. FAITHFULNESS 45
IX. PROFANITY 50
X. JUSTICE 54
XI. BENEVOLENCE 59
XII. AMBITION 63
XIII. PATRIOTISM 68
XIV. BODILY EXERCISE 72
XV. HABIT 77
XVI. INDUSTRY 82
XVII. SELF-CONTROL 88
XVIII. SELF-RELIANCE 91
XIX. FRIENDSHIP 95
XX. GENTLEMANLINESS 100
XXI. COURTESY 105
XXII. REPENTANCE 110
XXIII. CHARACTER 115
XXIV. CONSCIENCE 120
PREFACE
This little book has grown out of periodical addresses to my own pupils.
An experience of over ten years has convinced me of the necessity of
teaching systematically the fundamental principles of Morality. The
scarcity of books suitable as elementary texts is a sufficient proof
that the subject is neglected in our schools. It cannot be right that
children should be left to master so wide a subject from incidental
instruction and from example.
I should be sorry if any one thought, from glancing at the topics I have
treated, that I seemed content to put lessons in practical Morality in
place of instruction in the Scriptures and definite religious teaching.
Nothing can take the place of the Scriptures. But I feel convinced that
these two aspects of Truth must go hand in hand. The young mind requires
the truth to be presented to it from all sides, and nothing appeals to
it so strongly as a modern example.
My own idea as to the use of such a book as this is that it should
supplement Bible instruction. The lessons are short enough to be taught
in half an hour. If one topic is taken up each week, and thoroughly
explained, and enlarged on by fresh examples from current life and
history, the whole book can be easily mastered in the school year, and
leave ample time for review and examination. If it should prove helpful
to other teachers, my labour will be amply rewarded.
_Bishop Ridley College, St. Catharines,
Feb. 28th, 1895._
[Greek: Megas gar ho agon, megas, ouch hosos dokei, to chreston e
kakon genesthai.]
--_Plato._
No. I.
DUTY
+Duty is something which is due, and which, therefore, ought to be paid
or performed. It is something owed by everybody, to God, to self, or to
others.+
No other word is more disliked by the slothful than the word Duty. The
mention of the word itself causes weariness to a boy or man of that
kind. We can only get to like the word and the thing itself by
accustoming ourselves to perform it regularly, a little at a time. A boy
or girl with a fine ear and a natural talent for music hates, at first,
the daily practising and the uninteresting lessons; but, as soon as the
difficulties are mastered, playing an instrument becomes a delight.
Duty, in itself, is not a distasteful thing; it is because we hate
anything which gives us trouble that it seems unbearable. We can teach
ourselves to like taking pains.
Duty is, in one sense, the great law which governs the universe. The
planets revolving about the sun, the moon encircling the earth, even the
erratic comets, in fulfilling the laws of their being, perform the
duties which they are set. So, too, the plants and animals of the lower
creation obey the laws under which they live. Even of inanimate things,
pieces of human mechanism, may this be said. The pendulum of the clock
will tick until it is worn out, if it receive the care necessary for its
work. We see what wonderful things a machine can be made to do for man
in Edison's marvellous inventions of the kinetoscope and the
kinetograph.
Human duties differ from those of the lower creation and of the
inanimate world in this, that in the latter the duties are performed by
virtue of the great law of necessity, whereas man is free. That is what
makes human duties moral--that is where the _ought_ comes in. If we love
idleness, and most of us do at first, we naturally hate the idea of
Duty. If we give way to our feelings and desires, we shall only hate
Duty more intensely, and we are in danger of becoming not much better
than the brutes around us; in fact, we are giving way to the brute part
of our nature. Human nature differs from brute nature in having a
Conscience, which continually whispers in our hearts, "I must not," and
"I ought." It is our first duty to listen to Conscience.
The longer we practise doing duties the easier they become. A great man
once said: "A man shall carry a bucket of water on his head and be very
tired with the burden; but that same man, when he dives into the sea,
shall have the weight of a thousand buckets on his head without
perceiving their weight, because he is in the element, and it entirely
surrounds him." After running two miles for the first time, a boy feels
great stiffness, but after he has done it twenty times he feels nothing
but the pleasure of good health arising from pleasant exercise. In the
same way, he translates a single sentence in his Latin grammar with
great difficulty at first, but when he can translate Caesar's campaigns
without trouble the task becomes a delight.
Most people think they are entitled to great credit for doing their
Duty, and even to reward. If some one owes you a dollar, is he entitled
to a reward for repaying you? Is he entitled to any special credit? If a
father sees his son drowning and jumps into the water to rescue him, is
he entitled to any special credit, as a matter of right? Duty is
something _due_; therefore, it is a debt. "When ye have done all the
things that are commanded you, say, We are all bondservants; we have
done that which it was our duty to do."
(1) Duty is something owing to ourselves. Character is made up of
duties, and by our character we must stand or fall. We owe it to
ourselves to take the greatest care of our bodies. They should be
cleansed and exercised every day of our lives. Many a man, who would
feel outraged if his favourite horse were not thoroughly groomed and
otherwise cared for daily, neglects his own body, which needs "grooming"
quite as much as that of the horse. We owe it to ourselves to be careful
as to what we eat, and as to the right quantity. If we give a dog too
much meat or a horse too much grain, we know the result. We are not so
careful about ourselves as about our animals.
We owe it to ourselves to be true in all things. "First to thine own
self be true," says the great poet. We owe it to ourselves to be honest
in the very smallest things as well as in the great; to be afraid of
nothing except evil; to be clean in our thoughts and words; to be
modest; to be kind; to be gentle to the weak; to be generous; to be
charitable; to be modest about ourselves; to be temperate.
(2) Duty is something owing to others. We owe our parents a return for
their love and care for us at a time when we should have perished
without it. The return that is due them is that we should be a credit to
them instead of a disgrace, so that the world may say, "Those parents
have reason to be proud of their children." God has said: "Honour thy
father and thy mother." We owe it to them to be diligent in our
lessons, so that we may prepare to earn our own living, and not to be
dependent upon them all our days. A boy may say: "I am not going to
bother my head about this work. My father is rich, and I shall never
have to work unless I like." A few years hence, men will say: "Look at
that idle fellow! He is a disgrace to his parents. He is fit for
nothing; he is going to the bad already."
We owe it to others to owe them nothing. "Owe no man anything." It is
our duty to pay every debt in full, at the earliest moment possible. We
owe it to others to keep as sacred every confidence reposed in us. We
owe it to others to say no evil of them. _De mortuis nil nisi bonum_ was
a proverb of the Romans. It is wiser to speak evil of no one at all.
"He slandereth not with his tongue,
Nor doeth evil to his friend,
Nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour."
(3) Duty is something owing to one's country. The names of the patriots
will be the last to die from men's memories. Every man owes to his
country his name, his influence, his strenuous labour, his liberty, his
life itself, should that be needed. When Nelson, on the day of
Trafalgar, gave to his ships the signal, "England expects every man to
do his duty," he spoke for all nations, in all ages, under all
circumstances. When Pompey's friends tried to dissuade him from setting
sail for Rome in a storm, telling him that he did so at the peril of his
life, he said, "It is necessary for me to go, it is not necessary for me
to live." Perhaps the greatest example of patriotism shown in a love of
Duty of modern times is that of Wellington. His greatness lay in doing
thoroughly every duty that came in his way. For that he would sacrifice
everything else. Late in his life he was content to suffer a temporary
loss of popularity through devotion to what he believed to be a duty. He
was even mobbed in the streets of London, and had his windows smashed
while his wife lay dead in the house. The great motive power that
underlay his whole career was whole-hearted devotion to Duty. He himself
said that Duty was his watchword. "There is little or nothing in this
life worth living for," said he; "but we can all of us go straight
forward and do our duty." Nelson's last words were: "I have done my
duty; I praise God for it."
Some years ago a troop-ship called the _Birkenhead_ was wrecked off the
coast of Africa. The officers and men saw the women and children safely
into the boats, which sufficed for them alone. Those brave soldiers and
sailors fired a salute as the ship went down, and thus cheerfully gave
up their lives to the watery grave. Upon which a great writer said:
"Goodness, Duty, Sacrifice--these are the qualities that England
honours. She knows how to teach her sons to sink like men amidst sharks
and billows, as if Duty were the most natural thing in the world."
(4) Duty is something owing to God. The highest act of duty is to
acknowledge that we owe everything to God, except evil. We owe our lives
to God, for from Him they came. We owe it to God that man is a human
being, and not merely a higher sort of lower animal. God "breathed into
his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living _soul_." We owe
to God all that we have, and especially all happiness that we enjoy. It
is from Him that comes all the love that enters into our lives. He is
the great source of love to the human race. That is why we call Him our
Father; He is the personification of the love of which our earthly
parents' love is an example. We owe to God gratitude for His love to us,
manifested at every step of our lives, and we ought not merely to feel
that gratitude, but also to express it to Him daily. It is our duty,
therefore, to pray.
The highest form of prayer is that God's will may be done in our lives.
If we are sincere in that, and pray it with our hearts, and not merely
with our lips, it will be found sufficient to cover every request that
we can make, because our supreme duty is to do God's will in every act
and desire of life. Arising out of that prayer come the principal duties
of life, viz., thankfulness for God's goodness to us, the fight against
evil in every form, the showing to others by example how God's will may
be done, and, lastly, perfect trust in God in every circumstance of
life.
No. II.
OBEDIENCE
+Obedience is doing promptly and cheerfully what is commanded by those in
authority over us.+
Obedience is the first great law of life. No nation could continue to
exist if its citizens were not law-abiding. The most highly civilized
nations are those whose citizens yield loyal Obedience to the laws, and
strive to make all men obey them. Every society has its rules which the
members agree to obey, and it can only exist so long as that obedience
is observed voluntarily and faithfully. No army could be successful
against the enemy if the soldiers did not obey their officers.
Unquestioning obedience to the commands of the captain is necessary for
the safety of the ship and of the lives of the passengers. Those who are
employed in business must obey the instructions of their employers if
the business is to succeed. The first lesson that a schoolboy is set to
learn is the lesson of Obedience. What happiness could there be in our
homes if the children did not obey their parents?
The greatest part of life is Conduct, and Conduct can only be attained
by practising Obedience. The little child learns it from its mother, the
boy from his father, and from his master at school. The young man must
practise it at college, or at business. The older man continues to obey
some one all through his life. If he wish to govern others, he must
first obey himself. If he will not obey himself, he cannot rule others.
There is only One who is above Obedience--that is God.
At the battle of Balaklava, a small brigade of cavalry was ordered to
attack an immensely strong battery. The order was a mistake, as every
one knew that such an attempt would mean certain death. Yet the officer
commanding the cavalry did not hesitate for a moment to carry out the
orders, though he well knew what the result would be. Not a single
soldier among those six hundred refused to | 1,373.760387 |
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Makers of History
Joseph Bonaparte
BY
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT
WITH ENGRAVINGS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1902
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
Copyright, 1897, by SUSAN ABBOTT MEAD.
PREFACE.
The writer trusts that he may be pardoned for relating the following
characteristic anecdote of President Lincoln, as it so fully illustrates
the object in view in writing these histories. In a conversation which
the writer had with the President just before his death, Mr. Lincoln
said:
"I want to thank you and your brother for Abbotts' series of Histories.
I have not education enough to appreciate the profound works of
voluminous historians, and if I had, I have no time to read them. But
your series of Histories gives me, in brief compass, just that knowledge
of past men and events which I need. I have read them with the greatest
interest. To them I am indebted for about all the historical knowledge I
have."
It is for just this purpose that these Histories are written. Busy men,
in this busy life, have now no time to wade through ponderous folios.
And yet every one wishes to know the general character and achievements
of the illustrious personages of past ages.
A few years ago there was published in Paris a life of King Joseph, in
ten royal octavo volumes of nearly five hundred pages each. It was
entitled "_Memoires et Correspondance, Politique et Militaire, du Roi
Joseph, Publies, Annotes et Mis en Ordre par A. du Casse, Aide-de-camp
de S. A. I. Le Prince Jerome Napoleon._" These volumes contained nearly
all the correspondence which passed between Joseph and his brother
Napoleon from their childhood until after the battle of Waterloo. Every
historical statement is substantiated by unequivocal documentary
evidence.
From this voluminous work, aided by other historical accounts of
particular events, the author of this sketch has gathered all that would
be of particular interest to the general reader at the present time. As
all the facts contained in this narrative are substantiated by ample
documentary proof, the writer can not doubt that this volume presents an
accurate account of the momentous scenes which it describes, and that it
gives the reader a correct idea of the social and political relations
existing between those extraordinary men, Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte.
It is not necessary that the historian should pronounce judgment upon
every transaction. But he is bound to state every event exactly as it
occurred.
No one can read this account of the struggle in Europe _in favor of
popular rights_ against the old dynasties of _feudal oppression_,
without more highly appreciating the admirable institutions of our own
glorious Republic. Neither can any intelligent and candid man carefully
peruse this narrative, and not admit that Joseph Bonaparte was earnestly
seeking the welfare of the _people_; that, surrounded by dynasties
strong in standing armies, in pride of nobility, and which were
venerable through a life of centuries, he was endeavoring to promote,
under monarchical forms, which the posture of affairs seemed to
render necessary, the abolition of _aristocratic usurpation_, and the
establishment of _equal rights for all men_. Believing this, the writer
sympathizes with him in all his struggles, and reveres his memory.
The universal brotherhood of man, the fundamental principles of
Christianity, should also be the fundamental principles in the State.
Having spared no pains to be accurate, the writer will be grateful to
any critic who will point out any incorrectness of statement or false
coloring of facts, that he may make the correction in subsequent
editions.
This volume will soon be followed by another, "The History of Queen
Hortense," the daughter of Josephine, the wife of King Louis, the mother
of Napoleon III.
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
FAIR HAVEN, CONN.,
May, 1869.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. SCENES IN EARLY LIFE 13
II. DIPLOM | 1,373.76162 |
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CATS: Their Points and Characteristics.
[Illustration: "SHIPMATES."]
"CATS:"
THEIR POINTS AND CHARACTERISTICS,
WITH CURIOSITIES OF CAT LIFE,
AND A CHAPTER ON FELINE AILMENTS.
BY _W. GORDON STABLES, M.D., C.M., R.N._,
AUTHOR OF
"MEDICAL LIFE IN THE NAVY," "WILD ADVENTURES IN THE FAR NORTH,"
THE "NEWFOUNDLAND AND WATCH DOG," IN WEBB'S BOOK ON DOGS,
ETC. ETC.
LONDON: DEAN & SON,
ST. DUNSTAN'S BUILDINGS, 160A, FLEET STREET, E.C.
CONTENTS.
VOL. I.
CHAPTER. PAGE
I. APOLOGETIC 1
II. PUSSY ON HER NATIVE HEARTH 3
III. PUSSY'S LOVE OF CHILDREN 26
IV. PUSSY "POLL" 36
V. SAGACITY OF CATS 44
VI. A CAT THAT KEEPS THE SABBATH 61
VII. HONEST CATS 64
VIII. THE PLOUGHMAN'S "MYSIE" 70
IX. TENACITY OF LIFE IN CATS 74
X. NOMADISM IN CATS 87
XI. "IS CATS TO BE TRUSTED?" 94
XII. PUSSY AS A MOTHER 109
XIII. HOME TIES AND AFFECTIONS 125
XIV. FISHING EXPLOITS 141
XV. THE ADVENTURES OF BLINKS 151
XVI. HUNTING EXPLOITS 190
XVII. COCK-JOCK AND THE CAT 200
XVIII. NURSING VAGARIES 209
XIX. PUSSY'S PLAYMATES 221
XX. PUSSY AND THE HARE 230
XXI. THE MILLER'S FRIEND. A TALE 235
ADDENDA. CONTAINING THE NAMES AND ADDRESSES OF THE
VOUCHERS FOR THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE
ANECDOTES 267
VOL. II.
CHAPTER. PAGE
I. ORIGIN AND ANTIQUITY OF THE DOMESTIC CAT 278
II. CLASSIFICATION AND POINTS 285
III. PUSSY'S PATIENCE AND CLEANLINESS 307
IV. TRICKS AND TRAINING 319
V. CRUELTY TO CATS 329
VI. PARLIAMENTARY PROTECTION FOR THE DOMESTIC CAT 356
VII. FELINE AILMENTS 366
VIII. ODDS AND ENDS 387
IX. THE TWO "MUFFIES." A TALE 410
X. BLACK TOM, THE SKIPPER'S IMP. A TALE 440
ADDENDA. CONTAINING THE NAMES AND ADDRESSES OF THE
VOUCHERS FOR THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE
ANECDOTES 479
SPRATT'S PATENT
CAT FOOD.
[Illustration: TRADE MARK.]
It has long been considered that the food given to that useful domestic
favourite, the CAT, is the sole cause of all the diseases it suffers from;
nearly all Cats in towns are fed on boiled horseflesh, in many cases
diseased and conveying disease.
This Food is introduced to entirely supersede the present unwholesome
practice; it is made from pure fresh beef and other sound materials, not
from horseflesh or other deleterious substances. It will be found the
cheapest food to preserve the health and invigorate the constitution,
prolong the existence, and extend the usefulness, gentleness, and
cleanliness of the Cat.
_Sold in 1d. Packets only. Each Packet contains sufficient to feed a Cat
for two days. The wrapper of every Packet is the same in colour, and bears
the Trade Mark as above, and the name of the Patentee, and no other Packet
is genuine._
DIRECTIONS FOR USE.
Mix the food with a little milk or water, making it crumbly moist, not
sloppy.
SPRATT'S PATENT MEAT FIBRINE DOG CAKES, 22_s._ per cwt., Carriage Paid.
SPRATT'S PATENT POULTRY FOOD, 22_s._ per cwt., Carriage Paid.
SPRATT'S PATENT GRANULATED PRAIRIE MEAT CRISSEL, 28_s._ per cwt., Carriage
Paid.
_Address--SPRATT'S PATENT_,
HENRY STREET, BERMONDSEY STREET, TOOLEY STREET, S.E.
TO
LADY MILDRED BERESFORD-HOPE,
AND
LADY DOROTHY NEVILL,
THIS WORK
Is dedicated
With feelings of regard and esteem,
BY
THE AUTHOR.
CAT MEDICINE CHEST,
_Beautifully fitted up with everything necessary
to keep Pussy in Health, or to Cure her when Ill._
The Medicines are done up in a new form, now
introduced for the first time, are easy to
administer, and do not soil the fur.
A NICELY FINISHED ARTICLE,
HIGHLY SUITABLE FOR A PRESENT.
PRICE, with Synopsis of Diseases of Cats and their
Treatment, 21s.
LONDON: DEAN & SON,
FACTORS, PUBLISHERS,
Valentine, Birthday, Christmas, and Easter Card
Manufacturers,
ST. DUNSTAN'S BUILDINGS, 160A, FLEET STREET.
CATS.
CHAPTER I.
[_See Note A, Addenda._]
APOLOGETIC.
"If ye mane to write a preface to your book, sure you must put it in the
end entoirely."
Such was the advice an Irish friend gave me, when I talked of an
introductory chapter to the present work on cats. I think it was a good
one. Whether it be owing to our style of living now-a-days, which tends
more to the development of brain than muscle; or whether it be, as Darwin
says, that we really are descended from the ape, and, as the years roll
on, are losing that essentially animal virtue--patience; certainly it is
true that we cannot tolerate prefaces, preludes, and long graces before
meat, as our grandfathers did. A preface, like Curacoa--and--B, before
dinner, ought to be short and sweet: something merely to give an edge to
appetite, or it had as well be put in the "end entoirely," or better
still, in the fire.
I presume, then, the reader is fond of the domestic cat; if only for the
simple reason that God made it. Yes; God made it, and man mars it. Pussy
is an ill-used, much persecuted, little understood, and greatly slandered
animal. It is with the view, therefore, of gaining for our little fireside
friend a greater meed of justice than she has hitherto obtained, of
removing the ban under which she mostly lives, and making her life a more
pleasant and happy one, that the following pages are written; and I shall
deem it a blessing if I am _in any way_ successful. I have tried to paint
pussy just as she is, without the aid of "putty and varnish;" and I have
been at no small pains to prove the authenticity of the various anecdotes,
and can assure the reader that they are all _strictly true_.
CHAPTER II.
[_See Note B, Addenda._]
PUSSY ON HER NATIVE HEARTH.
"It wouldn't have surprised me a bit, doctor," said my gallant captain to
me, on the quarter-deck of the saucy _Pen-gun_,--"It wouldn't have
surprised me a bit, if they had sent you on board, minus the head. A nice
thing that would have been, with so many hands sick."
"And rather unconvenient for me," I added, stroking my neck.
I had been explaining to the gentleman, that my reason for not being off
the night before, was my finding myself on the desert side of the gates of
Aden after sun-down. A strange motley cut-throat band I had found myself
among, too. Wild Somalis, half-caste Indian Jews, Bedouin Arabs, and burly
Persian merchants, all armed with sword and spear and shield, and long
rifles that, judging by their build, seemed made to shoot round corners.
Strings of camels lay on the ground; and round each camp-fire squatted
these swarthy sons of the desert, engaged in talking, eating, smoking, or
quarrelling, as the case might be. Unless at Falkirk tryst, I had never
been among such a parcel of rogues in my life. I myself was armed to the
teeth: that is, I had nothing but my tongue wherewith to defend myself. I
could not help a feeling of insecurity taking possession of me; there
seemed to be a screw that wanted tightening somewhere about my neck. Yet I
do not now repent having spent that night in the desert, as it has
afforded me the opportunity of settling that long-disputed question--the
origin of the domestic cat.
Some have searched Egyptian annals for the origin of their pet, some
Persian, and some assert they can trace its descent from the days of Noah.
I can go a long way beyond that. It is difficult to get over the flood,
though; but I suppose my typical cat belonged to some one of the McPherson
clan. McPhlail was telling McPherson, that he could trace his genealogy
from the days of Noah.
"And mine," said the rival clansman, "from nine hundred years before
that."
"But the flood, you know?" hinted the McPhlail.
"And did you ever hear of a Phairson that hadn't a boat of his own?" was
the indignant retort.
In the midst of a group of young Arabs, was one that attracted my special
attention. He was an old man who looked, with his snow-white beard, his
turban and robes, as venerable as one of Dore's patriarchs. In sonorous
tones, in his own noble language, he was reading from a book in his lap,
while one arm was coiled lovingly round a beautiful long-haired cat.
Beside this man I threw myself down. The fierceness of his first glance,
which seemed to resent my intrusion, melted into a smile as sweet as a
woman's, when I began to stroke and admire his cat. Just the same story
all the world over,--praise a man's pet and he'll do anything for you;
fight for you, or even lend you money. That Arab shared his supper with
me.
"Ah! my son," he said, "more than my goods, more than my horse, I love my
cat. She comforts me. More than the smoke she soothes me. Allah is great
and good; when our first mother and father went out into the mighty desert
alone, He gave them two friends to defend and comfort them--the dog and
the cat. In the body of the cat He placed the spirit of a gentle woman; in
the dog the soul of a brave man. It is true, my son; the book hath it."
After this I remained for some time speculatively silent.
The old man's story may be taken--according to taste--with or without a
grain of salt; but we must admit it is as good a way of accounting for
domestic pussy's origin as any other.
There really is, moreover, a great deal of the woman's nature in the cat.
Like a woman, pussy prefers a settled home to leading a roving life. Like
a true woman, she is fond of fireside comforts. Then she is so gentle in
all her ways, so kind, so loving, and so forgiving. On your return from
business, the very look of her honest face, as she sits purring on the
hearth-rug, with the pleasant adjuncts of a bright fire and hissing
tea-urn, tends to make you forget all the cares of the day. When you are
dull and lonely, how often does her "punky humour," her mirth-provoking
attitudes and capers banish ennui. And if you are ill, how carefully she
will watch by your bedside and keep you company. How her low song will
lull you, her soft caresses soothe you, giving you more real consolation
from the looks of concern exhibited on her loving little face, than any
language could convey.
On the other hand, like a woman, she is prying and curious. A locked
cupboard is often a greater source of care and thought to pussy, than the
secret chamber was to the wife of Blue Beard. I'm sure it is only because
she cannot read that she refrains from opening your letters of a morning,
and only because she cannot speak that she keeps a secret. Like a woman,
too, she dearly loves a gossip, and will have it too, even if it be by
night on the tiles, at the risk of keeping the neighbours awake. Oh! I'm
far from sure that the Arab isn't right, after all.
Pussy, from the very day she opens her wondering eyes and stares vacantly
around her, becomes an object worthy of study and observation. Indeed,
kittens, even before their eyes are opened, will know your voice or hand,
and spit at a stranger's. The first year of pussy's existence is certainly
the happiest. No creature in the world is so fond of fun and mischief as a
kitten. Everything that moves or is movable, from its mother's tail to the
table-cloth, must minister to its craze for a romp; but what pen could
describe its intense joy, its pride and self-satisfaction, when, for the
first time it has caught a real live mouse? This is as much an episode in
the life of a kitten, as her first ball is to a young lady just out. Nor
do well-trained and properly-fed cats ever lose this innate sense of fun,
and love of the ridiculous. They lose their teeth first. I have seen
demure old cats, of respectable matronly aspect,--cats that ought to have
known better,--leave their kittens when only a day old, and gambol
round the room after a cork till tired and giddy.
[Illustration: BLACK and WHITE.
First Prize--Owned by J. BRADDEN, ESQ.]
[Illustration: WILD CAT (Half-Bred).
First Prize--Owned by A. H. SEAGER, ESQ.]
Cats of the right sort never fail to bring their kittens up in the way
they should go, and soon succeed in teaching them all they know
themselves. They will bring in living mice for them, and always take more
pride in the best warrior-kitten than in the others. They will also
inculcate the doctrine of cleanliness in their kits, so that the carpet
shall never be wet. I have often been amused at seeing my own cat bringing
kitten after kitten to the sand-box, and showing it how to use it, in
action explaining to them what it was there for. When a little older, she
entices them out to the garden.
Cats can easily be taught to be polite and well-mannered. It depends upon
yourself, whether you allow your favourite to sit either on your shoulder
or on the table at meal-times, or to wait demurely on the hearth till you
have finished. In any case, her appetite should never get the better of
her good manners.
"We always teach our cats," writes a lady to me, "to wait patiently while
the family are at their meals, after which they are served. Although we
never keep a dish for them standing in a corner, as some people do, yet we
never had a cat-thief. Our Tom and Topsy used to sit on a chair beside my
brother, near the table, with only their heads under the level of it. They
would peep up occasionally to see if the meal were nearly over; but on
being reminded that their time had not come, they would immediately close
their eyes and feign to be asleep.
"Poor old Tom knew the time my brother came in from business, and if five
or ten minutes past his time, he would go to the door and listen, then
come back to the fireside showing every symptom of impatience and anxiety.
He knew the footsteps of every member of the family, and would start up,
before the human ear could detect a sound, and hasten to the door to
welcome the comer. He knew the knock of people who were frequent visitors,
and would greet the knock of a stranger with an angry growl.
"Tom would never eat a mouse until he had shown it to some member of the
family, and been requested to eat it; and although brought up in a country
village, made himself perfectly at home in Glasgow, although living on the
third floor. But poor faithful fellow, after sticking to us through all
the varied changes of fourteen years, one wintry morning--he had been out
all night--when I drew up the window to call him, he answered me with such
a plaintive voice, that I at once hastened down to see what was the
matter. He was lying helpless and bleeding among the snow, with one leg
broken. He died."
Cats will often attach themselves to some one member of a family in
preference to all others. They are as a rule more fond of children than
grown-up people, and usually lavish more affection on a woman than a man.
They have particular tastes too, as regards some portions of the house in
which they reside, often selecting some room or corner of a room which
they make their "sanctum sanctorum."
Talking of her cats, a lady correspondent says:--"Toby's successor was a
black and white kitten we called Jenny. Jenny was considered my father's
cat, as she followed him and no one else. Our house and that of an aunt
were near to each other, and on Sabbath mornings it was my father's
invariable custom to walk in the garden, closely followed by Jenny,
afterwards going in to visit his sister before going to church. Jenny
enjoyed those visits amazingly; every one was so fond of her, and she was
so much admired, that she began to pay them visits of her own accord upon
weekdays. I am sorry to say that Jenny eventually abused the hospitality
thus held out to her. For, as time wore on, pussy had, unknown to us, been
making her own private arrangements for an event of great interest which
was to occur before very long. And this is how it was discovered when it
did come off. Some ladies had been paying my aunt a visit, and the
conversation not unnaturally turned on dress.
"'Oh! but,' said my aunt, 'you must have a sight of my new velvet
bonnet,--so handsome,--one pound fifteen shillings,--and came from
London. I do trust it won't rain on Sunday. Eliza, go for the box under
the dressing-table in the spare bedroom.'
"Although the door of this room was kept constantly shut, the window was
opened by day to admit the fresh air. It admitted more,--it admitted
Jenny,--and Jenny did not hesitate to avail herself of the convenience of
having her kittens in that room.
"Eliza had not been gone five minutes, when she returned screaming,--'Oh,
murther! murther!' that is all she said. She just ran back again,
screaming the same words, and my aunt and friends hastened after her. The
sight that met their gaze was in no way alarming: it was only Jenny cosily
ensconced in the box--the bonnet altered in shape to suit
circumstances--looking the picture of innocence and joy as she sung to six
blind kittens.
"Summary and condign was the punishment that fell on the unlucky Jenny.
The kittens were ordered to be instantly drowned,--we managed to save just
one,--and pussy sentenced to be executed as soon as the gardener came in
the morning. This sentence was afterwards commuted to transportation for
life from my aunt's house; and it was remarkable, that although Jenny took
her Sabbath morning walks as usual with my father, she never entered my
aunt's dwelling, but waited patiently until my father came out." Jenny's
master died.
"Jenny seemed to miss my father greatly. She used to go to the garden on a
Sunday, as usual, but walked up and down disconsolate and sad; and on her
return would take up her old position outside my aunt's door, and wait and
wait, always thinking he would surely come. This constant waiting and
watching for him that would come again no more, was the first thing that
softened my aunt's heart to poor Jenny; and she was freely forgiven for
the destruction of the velvet bonnet, and took up her abode for life with
my aunt, on whom she bestowed all the affection she had previously
lavished on my father."
Kittens, like the young of most animals--mankind included--are sometimes
rather selfish towards their parents. A large kitten that I knew, used to
be regularly fed with mice which its mother caught and brought to it from
a stack-yard. Instead of appearing grateful, he used to seize the mouse
and, running growling to a corner, devour the whole of it. His mother must
have thought this rather unfair, for after standing it three or four
times, she brought in the mouse, and slapped him if he dared to touch it
until she had eaten her share--the hind quarters; then he had to be
content with the rest.
I knew of a cat that, in order to avoid the punishment which she thought
she merited on committing an offence, adopted the curious expedient of
having two homes. Her failing was fish. If there had been no fish in the
world, she would have been a strictly honest cat. She warred against the
temptation, but it was of no use; the spirit was willing but the flesh
weak, and the smell of fish not to be resisted. As long as she could steal
without being found out, it was all right, things went on smoothly; but
whenever she was caught tripping, she bade good-bye for a time to that
home, and took up her quarters at the other, distant about half a mile.
Here she would reside for a month or more, as the case might be, until the
theft of another haddock or whiting caused her to return to the other
house. And so on; this cat kept up the habit of fluctuating backwards and
forwards, between her two homes, as long as she lived. She was never
thrashed, and, I think, did not deserve to be.
It is a common thing for a she-cat, if her kittens are all drowned, to
take to suckling a former kitten--even a grown-up son has sometimes to
resume the office and duties of baby to a bereaved mother, and is in
general no ways loath to do so. There is a horrid cat in a village in
Yorkshire, who, every time his mother has kittens, steals them, taking
them one by one to the cellar, and eating them. When there are no more to
eat, filial piety constrains him to suckle his dam, until she deems it fit
that he should be weaned. He has been weaned already four times, to my
knowledge.
If a kitten has been given away, and for some reason or other returns
again to its mother's home, the first thing that mother does is to give
him a sound hiding, afterwards she receives him into favour, and gives him
her tail to play with by way of _solatium_. Mothers will sometimes correct
their very young kittens; for instance, if it squeals when she wants to
get away for a short time, two or three smart pats with a mittened paw
generally make it go fast asleep.
The cat's love of fun is perhaps one of the most endearing traits in her
character. Who has not laughed to see the antics performed by some pet
cat, whom its mistress wished to bring into the house for the night. Pussy
has been walking with her mistress in the garden; but the night is fair
and moonlit, and she hasn't the slightest intention of coming in, for at
least half-an-hour yet. So round the walks she flies, romping and
rollicking, with tail in the air, and eyes crimson and green with the
mischief that is in them; always popping out when least expected, and
sometimes brushing the lady's very skirts. Now she walks demurely up to
her mistress, as if soliciting capture, and just as she is being picked
up,--"Ah! you thought you had me, did you?" and off she scampers to the
other end of the garden. Anon, she is up a tree, and grinning like an elf
from the topmost branches; and no amount of pet names, blarney, or coaxing
will entice her down or into the house until, as they say in the north,
her ain de'il bids her. Pussy's fondness for frolic has led to strange
results sometimes, as the following will testify:--
In an old-fashioned house, in an old-fashioned parish, in the county of
Aberdeenshire, there lived, not many years ago, a farmer of the name of
D----. His family consisted of his wife, two marriageable daughters, and a
beautiful tabby cat. This cat was well fed and cared for, and being so,
was an excellent mouser. Indeed, it was averred by the farmer that no rat
would live within a mile of her. The house stood by itself some distance
off the road, but, though surrounded by lofty pine-trees, it had by no
means the appearance of a place, which a ghost of average intellect and
any claim to respectability would select, as the scene of its midnight
peregrinations. Besides, there was no story attached to the house. No one
had ever been murdered there, so far as was known. No old miser had ever
resided within its walls; and though several members of the family had
died in the old box-bed, they had all passed away in the most legitimate
manner. Old granny was the only one at all likely to come back; but what
could she have forgotten? The old lady was sensible to the last, and
behaved like a brick. She told them candidly she was "wearin' awa';" sat
up in bed and in a sadly quavering voice sang the Old Hundred; then handed
over the key of the tea-caddy, where she kept her "trifle siller," with
the remark that they would find among the rest two old pennies, which she
had kept especially to be placed in her eyes when her "candle went out."
In spite of this, however, the honest farmer and his family were all
awakened one night by hearing the parlour bell rung, and rung too with
great force. They couldn't all have been dreaming. Besides, while they
were yet doubting and deliberating, lo! the bell rung a second time. John
and his wife shook in their shoes | 1,373.761806 |
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SEVEN MILES TO ARDEN
by
RUTH SAWYER
Author of
_The Primrose Ring_
Illustrated
Harper & Brothers Publishers
New York & London
SEVEN MILES TO ARDEN
Copyright, 1915, 1916, by The Curtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1915, 1916, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published April, 1916
* * * * *
BOOKS BY
RUTH SAWYER
SEVEN MILES TO ARDEN. Illustrated. Post 8vo
THE PRIMROSE RING. Illustrated. Post 8vo
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
* * * * *
[Illustration: (See page 220)
"Where twin oaks rustle in the wind
There waits a lad for Rosalind"]
_TO
HIMSELF_
_It leads away, at the ring o' day,
On to the beckoning hills;
And the throstles sing by the holy spring
Which the Blessed Virgin fills.
White is the road and light is the load,
For the burden we bear together.
Our feet beat time on the upward climb
That ends in the purpling heather.
There is spring in the air and everywhere
The throb of a life new-born,
In mating thrush and blossoming brush,
In the hush o' the glowing morn.
Our hearts bound free as the open sea;
Where now is our dole o' sorrow?
The winds have swept the tears we've wept--
And promise a braver morrow.
But this I pray as we go our way:
To find the Hills o' Heather,
And, at hush o' night, in peace to light
Our roadside fire together._
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE WAY OF IT 1
II. A SIGN-POST POINTS TO AN ADVENTURE 12
III. PATSY PLAYS A PART 25
IV. THE OCCUPANT OF A BALMACAAN COAT 39
V. A TINKER POINTS THE ROAD 48
VI. AT DAY'S END 64
VII. THE TINKER PLAYS A PART 85
VIII. WHEN TWO WERE NOT COMPANY 106
IX. PATSY ACQUIRES SOME INFORMATION 121
X. JOSEPH JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY 139
XI. AND CHANCE STAGES MELODRAMA INSTEAD OF
COMEDY 153
XII. A CHANGE OF NATIONALITY 165
XIII. A MESSAGE AND A MAP 191
XIV. ENTER KING MIDAS 202
XV. ARDEN 216
XVI. THE ROAD BEGINS ALL OVER AGAIN 231
SEVEN MILES TO ARDEN
I
THE WAY OF IT
Patsy O'Connell sat on the edge of her cot in the women's free ward
of the City Hospital. She was pulling on a vagabond pair of gloves
while she mentally gathered up a somewhat doubtful, ragged lot of
prospects and stood them in a row before her for contemplation,
comparison, and a final choice. They strongly resembled the contents
of her steamer trunk, held at a respectable boarding-house in
University Square by a certain Miss Gibb for unpaid board, for these
were made up of a jumble of priceless and worthless belongings,
unmarketable because of their extremes.
She had time a-plenty for contemplation; the staff wished to see her
before she left, and the staff at that moment was consulting at the
other end of the hospital.
Properly speaking, Patsy was Patricia O'Connell, but no one had ever
been known to refer to her in that cold-blooded manner, save on the
programs of the Irish National Plays--and in the City Hospital's
register. What the City Hospital knew of Patsy was precisely what the
American public and press knew, what the National Players knew, what
the world at large knew--precisely what Patricia O'Connell had chosen
to tell--nothing more, nothing less. They had accepted her on her own
scanty terms and believed in her implicitly. There was one thing
undeniably true about her--her reality. Having established this fact
beyond a doubt, it was a simple matter to like her and trust her.
No one had ever thought it necessary to question Patsy about her
nationality; it was too obvious. Concerning her past and her family
she answered every one alike: "Sure, I was born without either. I was
found by accident, just, one morning hanging on to the thorn of a
Killarney rose-bush that happened to be growing by the Brittany
coast. They say I was found by the Physician to the King, who was
traveling past, and that's how it comes I can speak French and King's
English equally pure; although I'm not denying I prefer them both
with a bit of brogue." She always thought in Irish--straight, Donegal
Irish--with a dropping of final g's, a bur to the r's, and a "ye"
for a "you." Invariably this was her manner of speech with those she
loved, or toward whom she felt the kinship of sympathetic
understanding.
To those who pushed their inquisitiveness about ancestry to the
breaking-point Patsy blinked a pair of steely-blue eyes while she
wrinkled her forehead into a speculative frown: "Faith! I can hearken
back to Adam the same as yourselves; but if it's some one more modern
you're asking for--there's that rascal, Dan O'Connell. He's too long
dead to deny any claim I might put on him, so devil a word will I be
saying. Only--if ye should find by chance, any time, that I'd rather
fight with my wits than my fists, ye can lay that to Dan's door;
along with the stubbornness of a tinker's ass."
People had been known to pry into her religion; and on these Patsy
smiled indulgently as one does sometimes on overcurious children.
"Sure, I believe in every one--and as for a church, there's not a
place that goes by the name--synagogue, meeting-house, or
cathedral--that I can't be finding a wee bit of God waiting inside
for me. But I'll own to it, honestly, that when I'm out seeking Him,
I find Him easiest on some hilltop, with the wind blowing hard from
the sea and never a human soul in sight."
This was approximately all the world and the press knew of Patsy
O'Connell, barring the fact that she was neighboring in the twenties,
was fresh, unspoiled, and charming, and that she had played the
ingenue parts with the National Players, revealing an art that
promised a good future, should luck bring the chance. Unfortunately
this chance was not numbered among the prospects Patsy reviewed from
the edge of her hospital cot that day.
The interest of the press and the public approval of the National
Irish Players had not proved sufficient to propitiate that
iron-hearted monster, Financial Success. The company went into
bankruptcy before they had played half their bookings. Their final
curtain went down on a bit of serio-comic drama staged, impromptu, on
a North River dock, with barely enough cash in hand to pay the
company's home passage. On this occasion Patsy had missed her cue for
the first time. She had been left in the wings, so to speak; and that
night she filled the only vacant bed in the women's free ward of the
City Hospital.
It was pneumonia. Patsy had tossed about and moaned with the racking
pain of it, raving deliriously through her score or more of roles.
She had gone dancing off with the Faery Child to the Land of Heart's
Desire; she had sat beside the bier in "The Riders to the Sea"; she
had laughed through "The Full o' Moon," and played the Fool while the
Wise Man died. The nurses and doctors had listened with open-eyed
wonder and secret enjoyment; she had allowed them to peep into a new
world too full of charm and lure to be denied; and then of a sudden
she had settled down to a silent, grim tussle with the "Gray
Brother."
This was all weeks past. It was early June now; the theatrical season
was closed for two months, with no prospects in the booking agencies
until August. In the mean time she had eight dollars, seventy-six
cents, and a crooked sixpence as available collateral; and an unpaid
board bill.
Patsy felt sorry for Miss Gibb, but she felt no shame. Boarding-house
keepers, dressmakers, bootmakers, and the like must take the risk
along with the players themselves in the matter of getting paid for
their services. If the public--who paid two dollars a seat for a
performance--failed to appear, and box-office receipts failed to
margin their salaries, it was their misfortune, not their fault; and
others had to suffer along with them. But these debts of circumstance
never troubled Patsy. She paid them when she could, and when she
could not--there was always her trunk.
The City Hospital happened to know the extent of Patsy's property; it
is their business to find out these little private matters
concerning their free patients. They had also drawn certain
conclusions from the facts that no one had come to see Patsy and that
no communications had reached her from anywhere. It looked to them as
if Patsy were down and out, to state it baldly. Now the Patsys that
come to free wards of city hospitals are very rare; and the
superintendent and staff and nurses were interested beyond the usual
limits set by their time and work and the professional hardening of
their cardiac region.
"She's not to leave here until we find out just who she's got to look
after her until she gets on her feet again, understand"--and the old
doctor tapped the palm of his left hand with his right forefinger, a
sign of important emphasis.
Therefore the day nurse had gone to summon the staff while Patsy
still sat obediently on the edge of her cot, pulling on her vagabond
gloves, reviewing her prospects, and waiting.
"My! but we'll miss you!" came the voice from the woman in the next
bed, who had been watching her regretfully for some time.
"It's my noise ye'll be missing." And Patsy smiled back at her a
winning, comrade sort of smile.
"You kind o' got us all acquainted with one another and thinkin'
| 1,373.857537 |
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E-text prepared by sp1nd, Chris Whitehead, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 46128-h.htm or 46128-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46128/46128-h/46128-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46128/46128-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/perseveranceisle00frazrich
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
[O_] represents a capital O with a line underneath.
[Illustration: ABANDONING THE "GOOD LUCK."--_Frontispiece._]
PERSEVERANCE ISLAND
Or
The Robinson Crusoe of | 1,373.86232 |
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E-text prepared by Martin Robb
IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES
A Story for the Young
by
Everett Evelyn-Green.
1901
CONTENTS
Prologue.
Chapter 1: A Brush with the Robbers.
Chapter 2: A Hospitable Shelter.
Chapter 3: A Strange Encounter.
Chapter 4: Paul's Kinsman.
Chapter 5: In Peril.
Chapter 6: In The Hands of the Robbers.
Chapter 7: The Protection of the Protected.
Chapter 8: The Rally of the Red Rose.
Chapter 9: The Tragedy of Tewkesbury.
Chapter 10: The Prince Avenged.
Notes.
Prologue.
"Mother, will the little prince be there?"
"Yes, my son. He never leaves his mother's side. You will see them
all today, if fortune favours us--the good King Henry, his noble
queen, to whom he owes so much, and the little prince likewise. We
will to horse anon | 1,373.866362 |
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Produced by Gordon Keener
FIAT MONEY INFLATION IN FRANCE
How It Came, What It Brought, and How It Ended
by Andrew Dickson White, LL.D., Ph.D., D.C.L.
Late President and Professor of History at Cornell University; Sometime
United States Minister to Russia and Ambassador to Germany; Author of "A
History of the Warfare of Science with Theology," etc.
INTRODUCTION
As far back as just before our Civil War I made, in France and
elsewhere, a large collection of documents which had appeared during the
French Revolution, including newspapers, reports, speeches, pamphlets,
illustrative material of every sort, and, especially, specimens of
nearly all the Revolutionary issues of paper money,--from notes of ten
thousand _livres_ to those of one _sou_.
Upon this material, mainly, was based a course of lectures then given
to my students, first at the University of Michigan and later at Cornell
University, and among these lectures, one on "Paper Money Inflation in
France."
This was given simply because it showed one important line of facts in
that great struggle; and I recall, as if it were yesterday, my | 1,373.962211 |
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Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
Tales of the Malayan Coast
From Penang to the Philippines
By
Rounsevelle Wildman
Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong
Illustrated by Henry Sandham
Boston
Lothrop Publishing Company
Copyright, 1899,
By
Lothrop Publishing Company.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
To
Our Hero
And my friend
Admiral George Dewey, U.S.N.
I Dedicate this Book
Flagship Olympia,
Manila, 21 Sept., 1898.
My Dear Wildman:--
Yours of 12th instant is at hand. I am much flattered by
your request to dedicate your book to me, and would be
pleased to have you do so.
With kindest regards, I am,
Very truly yours,
George Dewey.
PREFACE
These stories are the result of nine years' residence and experience
on the Malayan coast--that land of romance and adventure which the
ancients knew as the Golden Chersonesus, and which, in modern times,
has been brought again into the atmosphere of valor and performance
by Rajah Brooke of Sarawak, the hero of English expansion, and
Admiral George Dewey of the Asiatic squadron, the hero of American
achievement. The author, in his official duties as Special Commissioner
of the United States for the Straits Settlement and Siam, and, later,
as Consul General of the United States at Hong Kong, has mingled with
and studied the diverse people of the Malayan coast, from the Sultan
of Johore and Aguinaldo the Filipino to the lowest Eurasian and "China
boy" of that wonderful Oriental land. These stories are based on his
experiences afloat and ashore, and are offered to the American public
at this time when all glimpses of the land that Columbus sailed to
find are of especial interest to the modern possessors of the land
he really did discover.
CONTENTS
Page
Baboo's Good Tiger 9
Baboo's Pirates 28
How we Played Robinson Crusoe 47
The Sarong 66
The Kris 74
The White Rajah of Borneo 81
Amok! 101
Lepas's Revenge 130
King Solomon's Mines 147
Busuk 181
A Crocodile Hunt 200
A New Year's Day in Malaya 219
In the Burst of the Southwest Monsoon 230
A Pig Hunt on Mount Ophir 254
In the Court of Johore 270
In the Golden Chersonese 293
A Fight with Illanum Pirates 321
TALES OF THE MALAYAN COAST
FROM PENANG TO THE PHILIPPINES
BABOO'S GOOD TIGER
A Tale of the Malacca Jungle
Aboo Din's first-born, Baboo, was only four years old when he had
his famous adventure with the tiger he had found sleeping in the
hot lallang grass within the distance of a child's voice from Aboo
Din's bungalow.
For a long time before that hardly a day had passed but Aboo-Din,
who was our syce, or groom, and wore the American colors proudly on
his right arm, came in from the servants' quarters with an anxious
look on his kindly brown face and asked respectfully for the tuan
(lord) or mem (lady).
"What is it, Aboo Din?" the mistress would inquire, as visions of
Baboo drowned in the great Shanghai jar, or of Baboo lying crushed
by a boa among the yellow bamboos beyond the hedge, passed swiftly
through her mind.
"Mem see Baboo?" came the inevitable question.
It was unnecessary to say more. At once Ah Minga, the "boy"; Zim, the
cook; the kebuns (gardeners); the tukanayer (water-boy), and even the
sleek Hindu dirzee, who sat sewing, dozing, and chewing betel-nut,
on the shady side of the veranda, turned out with one accord and
commenced a systematic search for the missing Baboo.
Sometimes he was no farther off than the protecting screen of the
"compound" hedge, or the cool, green shadows beneath the bungalow. But
oftener the government Sikhs had to be appealed to, and Kampong Glam
in Singapore searched from the great market to the courtyards of
Sultan Ali. It was useless to whip him, for whippings seemed only
to make Baboo grow. He would lisp serenely as Aboo Din took down
the rattan withe from above the door, "Baboo baniak jahat!" (Baboo
very bad!) and there was something so charmingly impersonal in all
his mischief, that we came between his own brown body and the rod,
time and again. There was nothing distinctive in Baboo's features or
form. To the casual observer he might have been any one of a half-dozen
of his playmates. Like them, he went about perfectly naked, his soft,
brown skin shining like polished rosewood in the fierce Malayan sun.
His hair was black, straight, and short, and his eyes as black as
coals. Like his companions, he stood as straight as an arrow, and
could carry a pail of water on his head without spilling a drop.
He, too, ate rice three times a day. It puffed him up like a little
old man, which added to his grotesqueness and gave him a certain
air of dignity that went well with his features when they were in
repose. Around his waist he wore a silver chain with a silver heart
suspended from it. Its purpose was to keep off the evil spirits.
There was always an atmosphere of sandalwood and Arab essence about
Baboo that reminded me of the holds of the old sailing-ships that used
to come into Boston harbor from the Indies. I think his mother must
have rubbed the perfumes into his hair as the one way of declaring to
the world her affection for him. She could not give him clothes, or
ornaments, or toys: such was not the fashion of Baboo's race. Neither
was he old enough to wear the silk sarong that his Aunt Fatima had
woven for him on her loom.
Baboo had been well trained, and however lordly he might be in the
quarters, he was marked in his respect to the mistress. He would
touch his forehead to the red earth when I drove away of a morning to
the office; though the next moment I might catch him blowing a tiny
ball of clay from his sumpitan into the ear of his father, the syce,
as he stood majestically on the step behind me.
Baboo went to school for two hours every day to a fat old Arab
penager, or teacher, whose schoolroom was an open stall, and whose
only furniture a bench, on which he sat cross-legged, and flourished
a whip in one hand and a chapter of the Koran in the other.
There were a dozen little fellows in the school; all naked. They
stood up in line, and in a soft musical treble chanted in chorus the
glorious promises | 1,374.055223 |
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Produced by John Bickers; Dagny; Emma Dudding
THE WORLD'S DESIRE
by H. Rider Haggard and Andrew Lang
To
W. B. RICHMOND, A.R.A.
PREFACE
The period in which the story of _The World's Desire_ is cast, was a
period when, as Miss Braddon remarks of the age of the Plantagenets,
"anything might happen." Recent discoveries, mainly by Dr. Schliemann
and Mr. Flinders Petrie, have shown that there really was much
intercourse between Heroic Greece, the Greece of the Achaeans, and the
Egypt of the Ramessids. This connection, rumoured of in Greek legends,
is attested by Egyptian relics found in the graves of Mycenae, and by
very ancient Levantine pottery, found in contemporary sites in Egypt.
Homer himself shows us Odysseus telling a feigned, but obviously not
improbable, tale of an Achaean raid on Egypt. Meanwhile the sojourn of
the Israelites, with their Exodus from the land of bondage, though not
yet found to be recorded on the Egyptian monuments, was probably part of
the great contemporary stir among the peoples. These events, which are
only known through Hebrew texts, must have worn a very different aspect
in the eyes of Egyptians, and of pre-historic Achaean observers, hostile
in faith to the Children of Israel. The topic has since been treated in
fiction by Dr. Ebers, in his _Joshua_. In such a twilight age, fancy has
free play, but it is a curious fact that, in this romance, modern fancy
has accidentally coincided with that of ancient Greece.
Most of the novel was written, and the apparently "un-Greek" marvels
attributed to Helen had been put on paper, when a part of Furtwaengler's
recent great lexicon of Mythology appeared, with the article on Helen.
The authors of _The World's Desire_ read it with a feeling akin to
amazement. Their wildest inventions about the Daughter of the Swan, it
seemed, had parallels in the obscurer legends of Hellas. There actually
is a tradition, preserved by Eustathius, that Paris beguiled Helen
by magically putting on the aspect of Menelaus. There is a mediaeval
parallel in the story of Uther and Ygerne, mother of Arthur, and
the classical case of Zeus and Amphitryon is familiar. Again, the
blood-dripping ruby of Helen, in the tale, is mentioned by Servius in
his commentary on Virgil (it was pointed out to one of the authors
by Mr. Mackail). But we did not know that the Star of the story was
actually called the "Star-stone" in ancient Greek fable. The many voices
of Helen are alluded to by Homer in the _Odyssey_: she was also named
_Echo_, in old tradition. To add that she could assume the aspect of
every man's first love was easy. Goethe introduces the same quality
in the fair witch of his _Walpurgis Nacht_. A respectable portrait of
Meriamun's secret counsellor exists, in pottery, in the British Museum,
though, as it chances, it was not discovered by us until after the
publication of this romance. The Laestrygonian of the Last Battle is
introduced as a pre-historic Norseman. Mr. Gladstone, we think, was
perhaps the first to point out that the Laestrygonians of the _Odyssey_,
with their home on a fiord in the Land of the Midnight Sun, were
probably derived from travellers' tales of the North, borne with the
amber along the immemorial Sacred Way. The Magic of Meriamun is in
accordance with Egyptian ideas; her resuscitation of the dead woman,
Hataska, has a singular parallel in Reginald Scot's _Discovery of
Witchcraft_ (1584), where the spell "by the silence of the Night" is not
without poetry. The general conception of Helen as the World's Desire,
Ideal Beauty, has been dealt with by M. Paul de St. Victor, and Mr. J.
A. Symonds. For the rest, some details of battle, and of wounds, which
must seem very "un-Greek" to critics ignorant of Greek literature, are
borrowed from Homer.
H. R. H. A. L.
THE WORLD'S DESIRE
by H. Rider Haggard and Andrew Lang
Come with us, ye whose hearts are set
On this, the Present to forget;
Come read the things whereof ye know
_They were not, and could not be so!_
The murmur of the fallen creeds,
Like winds among wind-shaken reeds
Along the banks of holy Nile,
Shall echo in your ears the while;
The fables of the North and South
Shall mingle in a modern mouth;
The fancies of the West and East
Shall flock and flit about the feast
Like doves that cooled, with waving wing,
The banquets of the Cyprian king.
Old shapes of song that do not die
Shall haunt the halls of memory,
And though the Bow shall prelude clear
Shrill as the song of Gunnar's spear,
There answer sobs from lute and lyre
That murmured of The World's Desire.
* * * * *
There lives no man but he hath seen
The World's Desire, the fairy queen.
None but hath seen her to his cost,
Not one but loves what he has lost.
None is there but hath heard her sing
Divinely through his wandering;
Not one but he has followed far
The portent of the Bleeding Star;
Not one but he hath chanced to wake,
Dreamed of the Star and found the Snake.
Yet, through his dreams, a wandering fire,
Still, still she flits, THE WORLD'S DESIRE!
BOOK I
I
THE SILENT ISLE
Across the wide backs of the waves, beneath the mountains, and between
the islands, a ship came stealing from the dark into the dusk, and from
the dusk into the dawn. The ship had but one mast, one broad brown sail
with a star embroidered on it in gold; her stem and stern were built
high, and curved like a bird's beak; her prow was painted scarlet, and
she was driven by oars as well as by the western wind.
A man stood alone on the half-deck at the bows, a man who looked always
forward, through the night, and the twilight, and the clear morning. He
was of no great stature, but broad-breasted and very wide-shouldered,
with many signs of strength. He had blue eyes, and dark curled locks
falling beneath a red cap such as sailors wear, and over a purple cloak,
fastened with a brooch of gold. There were threads of silver in his
curls, and his beard was flecked with white. His whole heart was
following his eyes, watching first for the blaze of the island beacons
out of the darkness, and, later, for the smoke rising from the far-off
hills. But he watched in vain; there was neither light nor smoke on the
grey peak that lay clear against a field of yellow sky.
There was no smoke, no fire, no sound of voices, nor cry of birds. The
isle was deadly still.
As they neared the coast, and neither heard nor saw a sign of life, the
man's face fell. The gladness went out of his eyes, his features grew
older with anxiety and doubt, and with longing for tidings of his home.
No man ever loved his home more than he, for this was Odysseus, the
son of Laertes--whom some call Ulysses--returned from his unsung second
wandering. The whole world has heard the tale of his first voyage, how
he was tossed for ten years on the sea after the taking of Troy, how
he reached home at last, alone and disguised as a beggar; how he found
violence in his house, how he slew his foes in his own hall, and won his
wife again. But even in his own country he was not permitted to rest,
for there was a curse upon him and a labour to be accomplished. He must
wander again till he reached the land of men who had never tasted salt,
nor ever heard of the salt sea. There he must sacrifice to the Sea-God,
and then, at last, set his face homewards. Now he had endured that
curse, he had fulfilled the prophecy, he had angered, by misadventure,
the Goddess who was his friend, and after adventures that have never yet
been told, he had arrived within a bowshot of Ithaca.
He came from strange countries, from the Gates of the Sun and from White
Rock, from the Passing Place of Souls and the people of Dreams.
But he found his own isle more still and strange by far. The realm of
Dreams was not so dumb, the Gates of the Sun were not so still, as the
shores of the familiar island beneath the rising dawn.
This story, whereof the substance was set out long ago by Rei, the
instructed Egyptian priest, tells what he found there, and the tale of
the last adventures of Odysseus, Laertes' son.
The ship ran on and won the well-known haven, sheltered from wind by two
headlands of sheer cliff. There she sailed straight in, till the leaves
of the broad olive tree at the head of the inlet were tangled in her
cordage. Then the Wanderer, without once looking back, or saying one
word of farewell to his crew, caught a bough of the olive tree with his
hand, and swung himself ashore. Here he kneeled, and kissed the earth,
and, covering his head within his cloak, he prayed that he might find
his house at peace, his wife dear and true, and his son worthy of him.
But not one word of his prayer was to be granted. The Gods give and
take, but on the earth the Gods cannot restore.
When he rose from his knees he glanced back across the waters, but there
was now no ship in the haven, nor any sign of a sail upon the seas.
And still the land was silent; not even the wild birds cried a welcome.
The sun was hardly up, men were scarce awake, the Wanderer said to
himself; and he set a stout heart to the steep path leading up the hill,
over the wolds, and across the ridge of rock that divides the two masses
of the island. Up he climbed, purposing, as of old, to seek the house of
his faithful servant, the swineherd, and learn from him the tidings of
his home. On the brow of a hill he stopped to rest, and looked down on
the house of the servant. But the strong oak palisade was broken, no
smoke came from the hole in the thatched roof, and, as he approached,
the dogs did not run barking, as sheep-dogs do, at the stranger. The
very path to the house was overgrown, and dumb with grass; even a dog's
keen ears could scarcely have heard a footstep.
The door of the swineherd's hut was open, but all was dark within. The
spiders had woven a glittering web across the empty blackness, a sign
that for many days no man had entered. Then the Wanderer shouted twice,
and thrice, but the only answer was an echo from the hill. He went in,
hoping to find food, or perhaps a spark of fire sheltered under the dry
leaves. But all was vacant and cold as death.
The Wanderer came forth into the warm sunlight, set his face to the hill
again, and went on his way to the city of Ithaca.
He saw the sea from the hill-top glittering as of yore, but there were
no brown sails of fisher-boats on the sea. All the land that should now
have waved with the white corn was green with tangled weeds. Half-way
down the rugged path was a grove of alders, and the basin into which
water flowed from the old fountain of the Nymphs. But no maidens were
there with their pitchers; the basin was broken, and green with mould;
the water slipped through the crevices and hurried to the sea. There
were no offerings of wayfarers, rags and pebbles, by the well; and on
the altar of the Nymphs the flame had long been cold. The very ashes
were covered with grass, and a branch of ivy had hidden the stone of
sacrifice.
On the Wanderer pressed with a heavy heart; now the high roof of his own
hall and the wide fenced courts were within his sight, and he hurried
forward to know the worst.
Too soon he saw that the roofs were smokeless, and all the court was
deep in weeds. Where the altar of Zeus had stood in the midst of the
court there was now no altar, but a great, grey mound, not of earth, but
of white dust mixed with black. Over this mound the coarse grass pricked
up scantily, like thin hair on a leprosy.
Then the Wanderer shuddered, for out of the grey mound peeped the
charred black bones of the dead. He drew near, and, lo! the whole heap
was of nothing else than the ashes of men and women. Death had been busy
here: here many people had perished of a pestilence. They had all been
consumed on one funeral fire, while they who laid them there must have
fled, for there was no sign of living man. The doors gaped open, and
none entered, and none came forth. The house was dead, like the people
who had dwelt in it.
Then the Wanderer paused where once the old hound Argos had welcomed him
and had died in that welcome. There, unwelcomed, he stood, leaning on
his staff. Then a sudden ray of the sun fell on something that glittered
in the heap, and he touched it with the end of the staff that he had in
his hand. It slid jingling from the heap; it was the bone of a forearm,
and that which glittered on it was a half-molten ring of gold. On the
gold lambda these characters were engraved:
IKMALIOS MEPOIESEN
(Icmalios made me.)
At the sight of the armlet the Wanderer fell on the earth, grovelling
among the ashes of the pyre, for he knew the gold ring which he had
brought from Ephyre long ago, for a gift to his wife Penelope. This
was the bracelet of the bride of his youth, and here, a mockery and a
terror, were those kind arms in which he had lain. Then his strength was
shaken with sobbing, and his hands clutched blindly before him, and he
gathered dust and cast it upon his head till the dark locks were defiled
with the ashes of his dearest, and he longed to die.
There he lay, biting his hands for sorrow, and for wrath against God and
Fate. There he lay while the sun in the heavens smote him, and he knew
it not; while the wind of the sunset stirred in his hair, and he stirred
not. He could not even shed one tear, for this was the sorest of all the
sorrows that he had known on the waves of the sea, or on land among the
wars of men.
The sun fell and the ways were darkened. Slowly the eastern sky grew
silver with the moon. A night-fowl's voice was heard from afar, it drew
nearer; then through the shadow of the pyre the black wings fluttered
into the light, and the carrion bird fixed its talons and its beak on
the Wanderer's neck. Then he moved at length, tossed up an arm, and
caught the bird of darkness by the neck, and broke it, and dashed it on
the ground. His sick heart was mad with the little sudden pain, and he
clutched for the knife in his girdle that he might slay himself, but
he was unarmed. At last he rose, muttering, and stood in the moonlight,
like a lion in some ruinous palace of forgotten kings. He was faint with
hunger and weak with long lamenting, as he stepped within his own doors.
There he paused on that high threshold of stone where once he had sat in
the disguise of a beggar, that very threshold whence, on another day, he
had shot the shafts of doom among the wooers of his wife and the wasters
of his home. But now his wife was dead: all his voyaging was ended here,
and all his wars were vain. In the white light the house of his kingship
was no more than the ghost of a home, dreadful, unfamiliar, empty
of warmth and love and light. The tables were fallen here and there
throughout the long hall; mouldering bones, from the funeral feast, and
shattered cups and dishes lay in one confusion; the ivory chairs were
broken, and on the walls the moonbeams glistened now and again from
points of steel and blades of bronze, though many swords were dark with
rust.
But there, in its gleaming case, lay one thing friendly and familiar.
There lay the Bow of Eurytus, the bow for which great Heracles had slain
his own host in his halls; the dreadful bow that no mortal man but the
Wanderer could bend. He was never used to carry this precious bow with
him on shipboard, when he went to the wars, but treasured it at home,
the memorial of a dear friend foully slain. So now, when the voices of
dog, and slave, and child, and wife were mute, there yet came out of
the stillness a word of welcome to the Wanderer. For this bow, which
had thrilled in the grip of a god, and had scattered the shafts of the
vengeance of Heracles, was wondrously made and magical. A spirit dwelt
within it which knew of things to come, which boded the battle from
afar, and therefore always before the slaying of men the bow sang
strangely through the night. The voice of it was thin and shrill, a
ringing and a singing of the string and of the bow. While the Wanderer
stood and looked on his weapon, hark! the bow began to thrill! The sound
was faint at first, a thin note, but as he listened the voice of it in
that silence grew clear, strong, angry and triumphant. In his ears and
to his heart it seemed that the wordless chant rang thus:
Keen and low
Doth the arrow sing
The Song of the Bow,
The sound of the string.
The shafts cry shrill:
Let us forth again,
Let us feed our fill
On the flesh of men.
Greedy and fleet
Do we fly from far,
Like the birds that meet
For the feast of war,
Till the air of fight
With our wings be stirred,
As it whirrs from the flight
Of the ravening bird.
Like the flakes that drift
On the snow-wind's breath,
Many and swift,
And winged for death--
Greedy and fleet,
Do we speed from far,
Like the birds that meet
On the bridge of war.
Fleet as ghosts that wail,
When the dart strikes true,
Do the swift shafts hail,
Till they drink warm dew.
Keen and low
Do the grey shafts sing
The Song of the Bow,
The sound of the string.
This was the message of Death, and this was the first sound that had
broken the stillness of his home.
At the welcome of this music which spoke to his heart--this music he had
heard so many a time--the Wanderer knew that there was war at hand.
He knew that the wings of his arrows should be swift to fly, and their
beaks of bronze were whetted to drink the blood of men. He put out his
hand and took the bow, and tried the string, and it answered shrill as
the song of the swallow.
Then at length, when he heard the bowstring twang to his touch, the
fountains of his sorrow were unsealed; tears came like soft rains on a
frozen land, and the Wanderer wept.
When he had his fill of weeping, he rose, for hunger drove him--hunger
that is of all things the most shameless, being stronger far than
sorrow, or love, or any other desire. The Wanderer found his way through
the narrow door behind the dais, and stumbling now and again over fallen
fragments of the home which he himself had built, he went to the inner,
secret storehouse. Even _he_ could scarcely find the door, for saplings
of trees had grown up about it; yet he found it at last. Within the holy
well the water was yet babbling and shining in the moonlight over the
silver sands; and here, too, there was store of mouldering grain, for
the house had been abundantly rich when the great plague fell upon the
people while he was far away. So he found food to satisfy his hunger,
after a sort, and next he gathered together out of his treasure-chest
the beautiful golden armour of unhappy Paris, son of Priam, the false
love of fair Helen. These arms had been taken at the sack of Troy, and
had lain long in the treasury of Menelaus in Sparta; but on a day he had
given them to Odysseus, the dearest of all his guests. The Wanderer
clad himself in this golden gear, and took the sword called "Euryalus's
Gift," a bronze blade with a silver hilt, and a sheath of ivory, which
a stranger had given him in a far-off land. Already the love of life
had come back to him, now that he had eaten and drunk, and had heard the
Song of the Bow, the Slayer of Men. He lived yet, and hope lived in him
though his house was desolate, and his wedded wife was dead, and there
was none to give him tidings of his one child, Telemachus. Even so
life beat strong in his heart, and his hands would keep his head if any
sea-robbers had come to the city of Ithaca and made their home there,
like hawks in the forsaken nest of an eagle of the sea. So he clad
himself in his armour, and chose out two spears from a stand of lances,
and cleaned them, and girt about his shoulders a quiver full of shafts,
and took in hand his great bow, the Bow of Eurytus, which no other man
could bend.
Then he went forth from the ruined house into the moonlight, went
forth for the last time; for never again did the high roof echo to the
footstep of its lord. Long has the grass grown over it, and the sea-wind
wailed!
II
THE VISION OF THE WORLD'S DESIRE
The fragrant night was clear and still, the silence scarce broken by the
lapping of the waves, as the Wanderer went down from his fallen home to
the city on the sea, walking warily, and watching for any light from the
houses of the people. But they were all as dark as his own, many of them
roofless and ruined, for, after the plague, an earthquake had smitten
the city. There were gaping chasms in the road, here and there, and
through rifts in the walls of the houses the moon shone strangely,
making ragged shadows. At last the Wanderer reached the Temple of
Athene, the Goddess of War; but the roof had fallen in, the pillars were
overset, and the scent of wild thyme growing in the broken pavement rose
where he walked. Yet, as he stood by the door of the fane, where he had
burned so many a sacrifice, at length he spied a light blazing from the
windows of a great chapel by the sea. It was the Temple of Aphrodite,
the Queen of Love, and from the open door a sweet savour of incense and
a golden blaze rushed forth till they were lost in the silver of the
moonshine and in the salt smell of the sea. Thither the Wanderer went
slowly, for his limbs were swaying with weariness, and he was half in
a dream. Yet he hid himself cunningly in the shadow of a long avenue
of myrtles, for he guessed that sea-robbers were keeping revel in
the forsaken shrine. But he heard no sound of singing and no tread of
dancing feet within the fane of the Goddess of Love; the sacred plot
of the goddess and her chapels were silent. He hearkened awhile, and
watched, till at last he took courage, drew near the doors, and entered
the holy place. But in the tall, bronze braziers there were no <DW19>s
burning, nor were there torches lighted in the hands of the golden men
and maids, the images that stand within the fane of Aphrodite. Yet, if
he did not dream, nor take moonlight for fire, the temple was bathed in
showers of gold by a splendour of flame. None might see its centre nor
its fountain; it sprang neither from the altar nor the statue of the
goddess, but was everywhere imminent, a glory not of this world, a fire
untended and unlit. And the painted walls with the stories of the loves
of men and gods, and the carven pillars and the beams, and the roof of
green, were bright with flaming fire!
At this the Wanderer was afraid, knowing that an immortal was at hand;
for the comings and goings of the gods were attended, as he had seen,
by this wonderful light of unearthly fire. So he bowed his head, and hid
his face as he sat by the altar in the holiest of the holy shrine, and
with his right hand he grasped the horns of the altar. As he sat there,
perchance he woke, and perchance he slept. However it was, it seemed
to him that soon there came a murmuring and a whispering of the myrtle
leaves and laurels, and a sound in the tops of the pines, and then his
face was fanned by a breath more cold than the wind that wakes the dawn.
At the touch of this breath the Wanderer shuddered, and the hair on his
flesh stood up, so cold was the strange wind.
There was silence; and he heard a voice, and he knew that it was the
voice of no mortal, but of a goddess. For the speech of goddesses was
not strange in his ears; he knew the clarion cry of Athene, the Queen of
Wisdom and of War; and the winning words of Circe, the Daughter of the
Sun, and the sweet song of Calypso's voice as she wove with her golden
shuttle at the loom. But now the words came sweeter than the moaning of
doves, more soft than sleep. So came the golden voice, whether he woke
or whether he dreamed.
"Odysseus, thou knowest me not, nor am I thy lady, nor hast thou ever
been my servant! Where is she, the Queen of the Air, Athene, and why
comest _thou_ here as a suppliant at the knees of the daughter of
Dione?"
He answered nothing, but he bowed his head in deeper sorrow.
The voice spake again:
"Behold, thy house is desolate; thy hearth is cold. The wild hare breeds
on thy hearthstone, and the night-bird roosts beneath thy roof-tree.
Thou hast neither child nor wife nor native land, and _she_ hath
forsaken thee--thy Lady Athene. Many a time didst thou sacrifice to her
the thighs of kine and sheep, but didst thou ever give so much as a
pair of dove to _me_? Hath she left thee, as the Dawn forsook Tithonus,
because there are now threads of silver in the darkness of thy hair? Is
the wise goddess fickle as a nymph of the woodland or the wells? Doth
she love a man only for the bloom of his youth? Nay, I know not; but
this I know, that on thee, Odysseus, old age will soon be hastening--old
age that is pitiless, and ruinous, and weary, and weak--age that cometh
on all men, and that is hateful to the Gods. Therefore, Odysseus, ere
yet it be too late, I would bow even thee to my will, and hold thee for
my thrall. For I am she who conquers all things living: Gods and beasts
and men. And hast thou thought that thou only shalt escape Aphrodite?
Thou that hast never loved as I would have men love; thou that hast
never obeyed me for an hour, nor ever known the joy and the sorrow that
are mine to give? For thou didst but ensure the caresses of Circe, the
Daughter of the Sun, and thou wert aweary in the arms of Calypso, and
the Sea King's daughter came never to her longing. As for her who is
dead, thy dear wife Penelope, thou didst love her with a loyal heart,
but never with a heart of fire. Nay, she was but thy companion, thy
housewife, and the mother of thy child. She was mingled with all the
memories of the land thou lovest, and so thou gavest her a little love.
But she is dead; and thy child too is no more; and thy very country is
as the ashes of a forsaken hearth where once was a camp of men. What
have all thy wars and wanderings won for thee, all thy labours, and all
the adventures thou hast achieved? For what didst thou seek among
the living and the dead? Thou soughtest that which all men seek--thou
soughtest _The World's Desire_. They find it not, nor hast thou found
it, Odysseus; and thy friends are dead; thy land is dead; nothing lives
but Hope. But the life that lies before thee is new, without a remnant
of the old days, except for the bitterness of longing and remembrance.
Out of this new life, and the unborn hours, wilt thou not give, what
never before thou gavest, one hour to me, to be my servant?"
The voice, as it seemed, grew softer and came nearer, till the Wanderer
heard it whisper in his very ear, and with the voice came a divine
fragrance. The breath of her who spoke seemed to touch his neck; the
immortal tresses of the Goddess were mingled with the dark curls of his
hair.
The voice spake again:
"Nay, Odysseus, didst thou not once give me one little hour? Fear not,
for thou shalt not see me at this time, but lift thy head and look on
The World's Desire!"
Then the Wanderer lifted his head, and he saw, as it were in a picture
or in a mirror of bronze, the vision of a girl. She was more than mortal
tall, and though still in the first flower of youth, and almost a child
in years, she seemed fair as a goddess, and so beautiful that Aphrodite
herself may perchance have envied this loveliness. She was slim and
gracious as a young shoot of a palm tree, and her eyes were fearless and
innocent as a child's. On her head she bore a shining urn of bronze,
as if she were bringing water from the wells, and behind her was the
foliage of a plane tree. Then the Wanderer knew her, and saw her once
again as he had seen her, when in his boyhood he had journeyed to the
Court of her father, King Tyndareus. For, as he entered Sparta, and came
down the hill Taygetus, and as his chariot wheels flashed through the
ford of Eurotas, he had met her there on her way from the river. There,
in his youth, his eyes had gazed on the loveliness of Helen, and his
heart had been filled with the desire of the fairest of women, and like
all the princes of Achaia he had sought her hand in marriage. But Helen
was given to another man, to Menelaus, Atreus's son, of an evil house,
that the knees of many might be loosened in death, and that there might
be a song in the ears of men in after time.
As he beheld the vision of young Helen, the Wanderer too grew young
again. But as he gazed with the eyes and loved with the first love of a
boy, she melted like a mist, and out of the mist came another vision. He
saw himself, disguised as a beggar, beaten and bruised, yet seated in a
long hall bright with gold, while a woman bathed his feet, and anointed
his head with oil. And the face of the woman was the face of the maiden,
and even more beautiful, but sad with grief and with an | 1,374.059833 |
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[Illustration: THE YACHT WAS BEARING DOWN UPON THEM.]
THE
YOUNG OARSMEN OF LAKEVIEW.
BY
_CAPT. RALPH BONEHILL._
_Author of_
“_Rival Bicyclists_,” “_Leo, the Circus Boy_,” _Etc._
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
W. L. ALLISON CO.,
PUBLISHERS.
COPYRIGHT, 1897.
BY
W. L. ALLISON CO.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. Jerry, Harry and Blumpo 5
II. Mrs. Fleming’s Runaway Horse 12
III. Jerry’s Bravery 18
IV. Saving the Sloop 24
V. Harry is Rescued 30
VI. The Single Shell Race 37
VII. Who Won the Shell Race 43
VIII. A Prisoner of the Enemy 48
IX. Tar and Feathers 55
X. What Towser Did 61
XI. Off for Hermit Island 67
XII. An Attack in the Dark 73
XIII. Jerry’s Shot 78
XIV. The Hermit of the Island 83
XV. The Hermit’s Secret 89
XVI. An Exciting Chase 94
XVII. Harry’s New Yacht 99
XVIII. The Robbery of the Rockpoint Hotel 108
XIX. The Red Valise 113
XX. The Mishap to the Yacht 118
XXI. Words and Blows 125
XXII. Another Boat Race 132
XXIII. Jerry Starts on a Journey 140
XXIV. The Work of a Real Hero 146
XXV. A Fruitless Search 153
XXVI. Alexander Slocum is Astonished 160
XXVII. Jerry’s Clever Escape 165
XXVIII. Something About a Tramp 171
XXIX. Mr. Wakefield Smith Again 178
XXX. An Unlooked for Adventure 182
XXXI. Nellie Ardell’s Troubles 187
XXXII. A Crazy Man’s Doings 193
XXXIII. The Little Nobody 200
XXXIV. Alexander Slocum Shows His Hand 208
XXXV. A Strange Disappearance 215
XXXVI. Jerry Hears an Astonishing
Statement 222
XXXVII. A Joyous Meeting 229
XXXVIII. Alexander Slocum is Brought to Book 237
XXXIX. Harry to the Rescue 244
XL. A Struggle in the Dark 252
XLI. A Last Race—Good-bye to the Rival
Oarsmen 262
CHAPTER I.
JERRY, HARRY, AND BLUMPO.
“I’ll race you.”
“Done! Are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Then off we go.”
Quicker than it can be related, four oars fell into the water and four
sturdy arms bent to the task of sending two beautiful single-shell craft
skimming over the smooth surface of the lake.
It was a spirited scene, and attracted not a little attention, for both
of the contestants were well known.
“Go it, Jerry! You can beat him if you try!”
“Don’t let him get ahead, Harry. Keep closer to the shore!”
“How far is the race to be?”
“Up to the big pine tree and back.”
“That’s a full mile and more. I’ll bet on Jerry Upton.”
“And I’ll bet on Harry Parker. He has more skill than Jerry.”
“But Jerry has the muscle.”
“There they go, side by side!”
And thus the talking and shouting went on along the lake front. Most of
the boys present were members of the Lakeview Boat Club, but there were
others of the town there, too, as enthusiastic as the rest.
It was a clear, warm day in June. The summer holidays at the various
institutes of learning in the vicinity had just begun, so many of the
lads had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.
There were not a few craft out besides the two shells to which we have
drawn attention. But they drew out of the way to give the racers a free
field.
On and on went Jerry and Harry until the big pine was reached. Then came
the turn, and they started on the home stretch side by side, neither one
foot ahead of the other.
“It’s going to be a tie race.”
“Pull, Harry! Let yourself out!”
“Show him what you can do, Jerry!”
Encouraged by the shouts of their friends, both boys increase their
speed. But the increase on both sides was equal, and still the boats
kept bow and bow as they neared the boathouse.
“It’s going to be a tie, sure enough.”
“Spurt a bit, Jerry!”
“Go it for all you’re worth, Harry!”
Again the two contestants put forth additional muscle, each to
out-distance his | 1,374.157418 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 107.
AUGUST 18, 1894.
MORE ORNAMENTAL THAN USEFUL.
(_A Legend of the Results of the School Board._)
The Committee sat waiting patiently for candidates. Although the papers
had been full of advertisements describing the appointments the
_reclames_ had had no effect. There were certainly a number of persons
in the waiting-room, but the usher had declared that they did not
possess the elementary qualifications for the post that the Committee
were seeking to fill with a suitable official.
"Usher," cried the Chairman at length with some impatience; "I am sure
you must be wrong. Let us see some of the occupants of the adjoining
office."
The usher bowed with a grace that had been acquired by several years
study in deportment in the Board School, and replied that he fancied
that most of the applicants were too highly educated for the coveted
position.
"Too highly educated!" exclaimed the representative of municipal
progress. "It is impossible to be too highly educated! You don't know
what you're talking about!"
"Pardon me, Sir," returned the Usher, with another graceful inclination
of the head, "but would not 'imperfectly acquainted with the subject of
your discourse' be more polished? But, with your permission, I will obey
you."
And then the official returned to usher in an aged man wearing
spectacles. The veteran immediately fell upon his knees and began to
implore the Committee to appoint him to the vacant post.
"I can assure you, Gentlemen, that, thanks to the School Board, I am a
first-rate Latin and Greek scholar. I am intimately acquainted with the
Hebrew language, and have the greatest possible respect for the Union
Jack. I know all that can be known about mathematics, and can play
several musical instruments. I am also an accomplished waltzer; I know
the use of the globes, and can play the overture to _Zampa_ on the
musical-glasses. I know the works of SHAKSPEARE backwards, and----"
"Stop, stop!" interrupted the Chairman. "You may do all this, and more;
but have you any knowledge of the _modus operandi_ of the labour
required of you?"
"Alas, no!" returned the applicant; "but if a man of education----"
"Remove him, Usher!" cried the Chairman; and the veteran was removed in
tears.
A second, a third, and a fourth made their appearance, and disappeared,
and none of them would do. They were all singularly accomplished.
At length a rough man, who had been lounging down the street, walked
into the Council-chamber.
"What may you want, Sir?" asked the Chairman, indignantly.
"What's that to you?" was the prompt reply. "I ain't a going to tell
everyone my business--not me--you bet!"
"Ungrammatical!" said Committee Man No. One. "Very promising."
"Uncouth and vulgar!" murmured Committee Man No. Two.
"Where were you educated?" queried the Chairman.
"Nowheres in particular. I was brought up in the wilds of Canada.
There's not much book learning over there," and the rough fellow
indulged in a loud hoarse laugh.
"Ah | 1,374.258791 |
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THE CENTAUR
ALGERNON BLACKWOOD
1911
I
"We may be in the Universe as dogs and cats are in our libraries, seeing
the books and hearing the conversation, but having no inkling of the
meaning of it all."
--WILLIAM JAMES, _A Pluralistic Universe_
"... A man's vision is the great fact about him. Who cares for Carlyle's
reasons, or Schopenhauer's, or Spencer's? A philosophy is the expression
of a man's intimate character, and all definitions of the Universe are
but the deliberately adopted reactions of human characters upon it."
--Ibid
"There are certain persons who, independently of sex or comeliness,
arouse an instant curiosity concerning themselves. The tribe is small,
but its members unmistakable. They may possess neither fortune, good
looks, nor that adroitness of advance-vision which the stupid name good
luck; yet there is about them this inciting quality which proclaims that
they have overtaken Fate, set a harness about its neck of violence, and
hold bit and bridle in steady hands.
"Most of us, arrested a moment by their presence to snatch the definition
their peculiarity exacts, are aware that on the heels of curiosity
follows--envy. They know the very things that we forever seek in vain.
And this diagnosis, achieved as it were _en passant_, comes near to the
truth, for the hallmark of such persons is that they have found, and
come into, their own. There is a sign upon the face and in the eyes.
Having somehow discovered the 'piece' that makes them free of the whole
amazing puzzle, they know where they belong and, therefore, whither they
are bound: more, they are definitely _en route_. The littlenesses of
existence that plague the majority pass them by.
"For this reason, if for no other," continued O'Malley, "I count my
experience with that man as memorable beyond ordinary. 'If for no other,'
because from the very beginning there was another. Indeed, it was
probably his air of unusual bigness, massiveness rather,--head, face,
eyes, shoulders, especially back and shoulders,--that struck me first
when I caught sight of him lounging there hugely upon my steamer deck at
Marseilles, winning my instant attention before he turned and the
expression on his great face woke more--woke curiosity, interest, envy.
He wore this very look of certainty that knows, yet with a tinge of mild
surprise as though he had only recently known. It was less than
perplexity. A faint astonishment as of a happy child--almost of an
animal--shone in the large brown eyes--"
"You mean that the physical quality caught you first, then the
psychical?" I asked, keeping him to the point, for his Irish imagination
was ever apt to race away at a tangent.
He laughed good-naturedly, acknowledging the check. "I believe that to be
the truth," he replied, his face instantly grave again. "It was the
impression of uncommon bulk that heated my intuition--blessed if I know
how--leading me to the other. The size of his body did not smother, as so
often is the case with big people: rather, it revealed. At the moment I
could conceive no possible connection, of course. Only this overwhelming
attraction of the man's personality caught me and I longed to make
friends. That's the way with me, as you know," he added, tossing the hair
back from his forehead impatiently,"--pretty often. First impressions.
Old man, I tell you, it was like a possession."
"I believe you," I said. For Terence O'Malley all his life had never
understood half measures.
II
"The friendly and flowing savage, who is he? Is he waiting for
civilization, or is he past it, and mastering it?"
--WHITMAN
"We find ourselves today in the midst of a somewhat peculiar state of
society, which we call Civilization, but which even to the most
optimistic among us does not seem altogether desirable. Some of us,
indeed, are inclined to think that it is a kind of disease which the
various races of man have to pass through....
"While History tells us of many nations that have been attacked by it, of
many that have succumbed to it, and of some that are still in the throes
of it, we know of no single case in which a nation has fairly recovered
from and passed through it to a more normal and healthy condition. In
other words, the development of human society has never yet (that we know
of) passed beyond a certain definite and apparently final stage in the
process we call Civilization; at that stage it has always succumbed or
been arrested."
--EDWARD CARPENTER, _Civilization: Its Cause and Cure_
O'Malley himself is an individuality that invites consideration from the
ruck of commonplace men. Of mingled Irish, Scotch, and English blood, the
first predominated, and the Celtic element in him was | 1,374.259749 |
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E-text prepared by David Edwards, Demian Katz, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Villanova University Digital Library
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Villanova University Digital Library. See
http://digital.library.villanova.edu/Item/vudl:305220
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE"
* * * * * *
BOYS OF LIBERTY LIBRARY.
12mo. Cloth, handsomely bound. Price, each, postpaid, 50 cents.
PAUL REVERE and the Boys of Liberty. By John De Morgan.
THE FIRST SHOT FOR LIBERTY or The Minute Men of Massachusetts. By
John De Morgan.
FOOLING THE ENEMY. A Story of the Siege of Boston. By John De Morgan.
INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH or The Boys of Liberty at the Battle of Long
Island. By John De Morgan.
THE HERO OF TICONDEROGA or Ethan Allen and His Green Mountain Boys.
By John De Morgan.
ON TO QUEBEC or With Montgomery in Canada. By John De Morgan.
FIGHTING HAL or From Fort Necessity to Quebec. By John De Morgan.
MARION AND HIS MEN or The Swamp Fox of Carolina. By John De Morgan.
THE YOUNG AMBASSADOR or Washington's First Triumph. By John De Morgan.
THE YOUNG GUARDSMAN or With Washington in the Ohio Valley. By John De
Morgan.
THE CRUISE OF THE LIVELY BEE or A Boy's Adventure in the War of 1812.
By John De Morgan.
THE TORY PLOT or Saving Washington's Life. By T. C. Harbaugh.
IN BUFF AND BLUE or Serving under Old Put. By T. C. Harbaugh.
WASHINGTON'S YOUNG SPY or Outwitting General Howe. By T. C. Harbaugh.
UNDER GREENE'S BANNER or The Boy Heroes of 1781. By T. C. Harbaugh.
FOR FREEDOM'S CAUSE or On to Saratoga. By T. C. Harbaugh.
CAPTAIN OF THE MINUTE MEN or The Concord Boys of 1775. By Harrie
Irving Hancock.
THE TRADER'S CAPTIVE or The Young Guardsman and The French Spies. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
THE QUAKER SPY, A Tale of the Revolutionary War. By Lieut. Lounsberry.
FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM or The Birth of the Stars and Stripes. By Lieut.
Lounsberry.
BY ORDER OF THE COLONEL or The Captain of the Young Guardsmen. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
A CALL TO DUTY or The Young Guardsman. By Lieut. Lounsberry.
IN GLORY'S VAN or The Young Guardsman at Louisbourg. By Lieut.
Lounsberry.
THE YOUNG PATRIOT or The Young Guardsmen at Fort William Henry. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
"OLD PUT" THE PATRIOT or Fighting for Home and Country. By Frederick
A. Ober.
THE LEAGUE OF FIVE or Washington's Boy Scouts. By Commander Post.
THE KING'S MESSENGER or The Fall of Ticonderoga. By Capt. Frank Ralph.
DASHING PAUL JONES, The Hero of the Colonial Navy. By Frank Sheridan.
FROM MIDSHIPMAN TO COMMODORE or The Glories of Our Infant Navy. By
Frank Sheridan.
THE CRUISE OF THE ESSEX or Making the Stars and Stripes Respected. By
Frank Sheridan.
* * * * * *
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE"
Or
A Boy's Adventure in the War of 1812
by
JOHN DE MORGAN
Author of
"Paul Revere," "The Young Ambassador," "The First
Shot for Liberty," "The Young Guardsman," etc.
[Illustration: BOYS OF LIBERTY LIBRARY]
Philadelphia
David McKay, Publisher
610 South Washington Square
Copyright, 1892
By Norman L. Munro
The Cruise of the "Lively Bee"
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I | 1,374.26187 |
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Produced by Mark C. Orton, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
THE
BEACON SECOND READER
BY
JAMES H. FASSETT
GINN AND COMPANY
BOSTON - NEW YORK - CHICAGO - LONDON
ATLANTA - DALLAS - COLUMBUS - SAN FRANCISCO
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY JAMES H. FASSETT
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
431.1
The Athenaeum Press
GINN AND COMPANY - PROPRIETORS -
BOSTON - U.S.A.
PREFACE
In the "Beacon Second Reader" the author has chosen for his stories only
those of recognized literary merit; and while it has been necessary to
rearrange and sometimes rewrite them for the purpose of simplification,
yet he has endeavored to retain the spirit which has served to endear
these ancient tales to the children of all ages. The fairy story appeals
particularly to children who are in the second school year. It has been
proved by our ablest psychologists that at about this period of
development, children are especially susceptible to the stimulus of the
old folklore. They are in fact passing through the stage which
corresponds to the dawn of the human race, when demons, dragons,
fairies, and hobgoblins were as firmly believed in as rivers and
mountains.
As a test of this theory the author asked hundreds of second-grade and
third-grade school children to recall the stories which they had read
during the preceding year, and to express their preferences. The choice
of more than ninety per cent proved to be either folklore stories, pure
and simple, or such tales as contained the folklore element. To be sure,
children like other stories, but they respond at once with sparkling
eyes and animated voices when the fairy tale is suggested. How unwise,
therefore, it is to neglect this powerful stimulus which lies ready at
our hands! Even a pupil who is naturally slow will wade painfully and
laboriously through a fairy story, while he would throw down in disgust
an account of the sprouting of the bean or the mining of coal.
It can hardly be questioned, moreover, that the real culture which the
child derives from these literary classics is far greater than that
which he would gain from the "information" stories so common in the
average second and third readers.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE SHIP _Old English Rhyme_ 13
THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN YOUNG KIDS _William and Jacob Grimm_ 14
THEY DIDN'T THINK _Phoebe Cary_ 22
TOM THUMB _English Fairy Tale_ 24
SUPPOSE _Alice Cary_ 34
CINDERELLA _English Fairy Tale_ 36
RAINDROPS _Ann Hawkshawe_ 43
THE FOUR FRIENDS _William and Jacob Grimm_ 44
LITTLE BIRDIE _Alfred Tennyson_ 54
MOTHER FROST _William and Jacob Grimm_ 55
IF EVER I SEE _Lydia Maria Child_ 65
WHY THE BEAR'S TAIL IS SHORT _German Folk Tale_ 66
RUMPELSTILTSKIN _William and Jacob Grimm_ 70
BED IN SUMMER _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 81
THE GOLDEN TOUCH _Greek Myth_ 82
OVER IN THE MEADOW _Olive A. Wadsworth_ 89
THE BELL OF ATRI _German Folk Tale_ 92
THE BABY _Hugh Miller_ 96
BRUCE AND THE SPIDER _Scottish Tradition_ 97
THE WISE LITTLE PIG _Anonymous_ 100
AN INDIAN STORY 102
A GOOD PLAY _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 112
DICK WHITTINGTON _English Folk Tale_ 113
THE NEW MOON _Eliza Lee Follen_ 124
BRIAR ROSE _William and Jacob Grimm_ 126
ALL THINGS BEAUTIFUL _Mrs. C.F. Alexander_ 135
THE BAKER BOYS AND THE | 1,374.263816 |
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Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by
Google Books (the New York Public Library)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
https://books.google.com/books?id=h9ghAAAAMAAJ
(the New York Public Library)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
AGNES SOREL.
A Novel
BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.,
AUTHOR OF
"LIFE OF VICISSITUDES," "PEQUINILLO," "THE FATE," "AIMS AND
OBSTACLES," "HENRY SMEATON," "THE WOODMAN," &c., &c., &c.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
329 & 331 PEARL STREET,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1864.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight
hundred and fifty-three, by
GEORGE P. R. JAMES,
in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the Southern
District of New York.
TO
MAUNSELL B. FIELD, ESQ.,
NOT ONLY AS THE COMPANION OF SOME OF MY LITERARY LABORS, BUT
AS MY DEAR FRIEND; NOT ONLY AS A GENTLEMAN AND A MAN
OF HONOR, BUT AS A MAN OF GENIUS AND OF FEELING;
NOT ONLY AS ONE WHO DOES HONOR TO HIS OWN
COUNTRY, BUT AS ONE WHO WOULD DO
HONOR TO ANY,
This Book is Dedicated, with sincere Regard,
BY G. P. R. JAMES.
AGNES SOREL.
CHAPTER I.
How strange the sensation would be, how marvelously interesting the
scene, were we to wake up from some quiet night's rest and find
ourselves suddenly transported four or five hundred years back--living
and moving among the men of a former age!
To pass from the British fortress of Gibraltar, with drums and fifes,
red coats and bayonets, in a few hours, to the coast of Africa, and
find one's self surrounded by Moors and male petticoats, turbans and
cimeters, is the greatest transition the world affords at present; but
it is nothing to that of which I speak. How marvelously interesting
would it be, also, not only to find one's self brought in close
contact with the customs, manners, and characteristics of a former
age, with all our modern notions strong about us, but to be met at
every turn by thoughts, feelings, views, principles, springing out of
a totally different state of society, which have all passed away, and
moldered, like the garments in which at that time men decorated
themselves.
Such, however, is the leap which I wish the reader to take at the
present moment; and--although I know it to be impossible for him to
divest himself of all those modern impressions which are a part of his
identity--to place himself with me in the midst of a former period,
and to see himself surrounded for a brief space with the people, and
the things, and the thoughts of the fifteenth century.
Let me premise, however, in this prefatory chapter, that the object of
an author, in the minute detail of local scenery and ancient customs,
which he is sometimes compelled to give, and which are often objected
to by the animals with long ears that browse on the borders of
Parnassus, is not so much to show his own learning in antiquarian
lore, as to imbue his reader with such thoughts and feelings as may
enable him to comprehend the motives of the persons acting before his
eyes, and the sensations, passions, and prejudices of ages passed
away. Were we to take an unsophisticated rustic, and baldly tell him,
without any previous intimation of the habits of the time, that the
son of a king of England one day went out alone--or, at best, with a
little boy in his company--all covered over with iron; that he betook
himself to a lone and desolate pass in the mountains, traversed by a
high road, and sat upon horseback by the hour together, with a spear
in his hand, challenging every body who passed to fight him, the
unsophisticated rustic would naturally conclude that the king's son
was mad, and would expect to hear of him next in Bedlam, rather than
on the throne of England. I let any one tell him previously of the
habits, manners, and customs of those days, and the rustic--though he
may very well believe that the whole age was mad--will understand and
appreciate the motives of the individual, saying to himself, "This man
was not a bit madder than the rest."
However, this book is not intended to be a mere painting of the
customs of the fifteenth century, but rather a picture of certain
characters of that period, dressed somewhat in the garb of the times,
and moved by those springs of action which influenced men in the age
to which I refer. It has been said, and justly, that human nature is
the same in all ages; but as a musical instrument will produce many
different tones, according to the hand which touches it, so will human
nature present many different aspects, according to the influences by
which it is affected. At all events, I claim a right to play my own
tune upon my violin, and what skills it if that tune be an air of the
olden times. No one need listen who does not like it.
CHAPTER II.
There was a small, square room, of a very plain, unostentatious
appearance, in the turret of a tall house in the city of Paris. The
walls were of hewn stone, without any decoration whatever, except
where at the four sides, and nearly in the centre of each, appeared a
long iron arm, or branch, with a socket at the end of it, curved and
twisted in a somewhat elaborate manner, and bearing some traces of
having been gilt in a former day. The ceiling was much more decorated
than the walls, and was formed by two groined arches of stone-work,
crossing each other in the middle, and thus forming, as it were, four
pointed arches, the intervals between one mass of stone-work and
another being filled up with dark- oak, much after the fashion
of a cap in a coronet. The spot where the arches crossed was
ornamented with a richly-carved pendant, or corbel, in the centre of
which was embedded a massive iron hook, probably intended to sustain a
large lamp, while the iron sockets protruding from the walls were
destined for flambeaux or lanterns. The floor was of stone, and a rude
mat of rushes was spread over about one eighth of the surface, toward
the middle of the room, where stood a table of no very large
dimensions, covered with a great pile of papers and a few manuscript
books. No lamp hung from the ceiling; no lantern or flambeau cast its
light from the walls as had undoubtedly been the case in earlier
times: the tall, quaint-shaped window, besides being encumbered by a
rich tracery of stone-work, could not admit even the moonbeams through
the thick coat of dust that covered its panes, and the only light
which that room received was afforded by a dull oil lamp upon the
table, without glass or shade. All the furniture looked dry and
withered, as it were, and though solid enough, being balkily formed of
dark oak, presented no ornament whatever. It was, in short, an
uncomfortable-looking apartment enough, having a ruinous and
dilapidated appearance, without any of the picturesqueness of decay.
Under the table lay a large, brindled, rough-haired dog, of the
stag-hound breed, but cruelly docked of his tail, in accordance with
some code of forest laws, which at that time were very numerous and
very various in different parts of France, but all equally unjust and
severe. Apparently he was sound asleep as dog could be; but we all
know that a dog's sleep is not as profound as a metaphysician's dream,
and from time to time he would raise his head a little from his
crossed paws, and look slightly up toward the legs of a person seated
at the table.
Now those legs--to begin at the unusual end of a portrait--were
exceedingly handsome, well-shaped legs, indeed, evidently appertaining
to a young man on the flowery side of maturity. There was none of the
delicate, rather unsymmetrical straightness of the mere boy about
them, nor the over-stout, balustrade-like contour of the sturdy man of
middle age. Nor did the rest of the figure belie their promise, for it
was in all respects a good one, though somewhat lightly formed, except
the shoulders, indeed, which were broad and powerful, and the chest,
which was wide and expansive. The face was good, though not strictly
handsome, and the expression was frank and bright, yet with a certain
air of steady determination in it which is generally conferred by the
experience of more numerous years than seemed to have passed over that
young and unwrinkled brow.
The dress of the young scribe--for he was writing busily--was in
itself plain, though not without evident traces of care and attention
in its device and adjustment. The shoes were extravagantly long, and
drawn out to a very acute point, and the gray sort of mantle, with
short sleeves, which he wore over his ordinary hose and jerkin, had,
at the collar, and at the end of those short sleeves, a little strip
of fur--a mark, possibly, of gentle birth, for sumptuary laws, always
ineffectual, were issued from time to time, during all the earlier
periods of the French monarchy, and generally broken as soon as
issued.
There was no trace of beard upon the chin. The upper lip itself was
destitute of the manly mustache, and the hair, combed back from the
forehead, and lying in smooth and glossy curls upon the back of the
neck, gave an appearance almost feminine to the head, which was
beautifully set upon the shoulders. The broad chest already mentioned,
however, the long, sinewy arms, and the strong brown hand which held
the pen, forbade all suspicion that the young writer was a fair lady
in disguise, although that was a period in the world's history when
the dames of France were not overscrupulous in assuming any character
which might suit their purposes for the time.
There was a good deal of noise and bustle in the streets of Paris, as
men with flambeaux in their hands walked on before some great lord of
the court, calling "Place! place!" to clear the way for their master
as he passed; or as a merry party of citizens returned, laughing and
jesting, from some gay meeting; or as a group of night-ramblers walked
along, insulting the ear of night with cries, and often with
blasphemies; or as lays and songs were trolled up from the corners of
the streets by knots of persons, probably destitute of any other home,
assembled round the large bonfires, lighted to give warmth to the
shivering poor--for it was early in the winter of the great frost of
one thousand four hundred and seven, and the miseries of the land were
great. Still, the predominant sounds were those of joy and revelry;
for the people of Paris were the same in those days that they are even
now; and joy, festivity, and frolic, then, as in our own days, rolled
and caroled along the highways, while the dust was yet wet with blood,
and wretchedness, destitution, and oppression lurked unseen behind the
walls. No sounds, however, seemed to disturb the lad at his task, or
to withdraw his thoughts for one moment from the subject before him.
Now a loud peal of laughter shook the casement; but still he wrote on.
Now a cry, as if of pain, rang round the room from without, but such
cries were common in those days, and he lifted not his head. And then
again a plaintive song floated on the air, broken only by the striking
of a clock, jarring discordantly with the mellow notes of the air; but
still the pen hurried rapidly over the page, till some minutes after
the hour of nine had struck, when he laid it down with a deep
respiration, as if some allotted task were ended.
At length the dog which was lying at his feet lifted his head suddenly
and gazed toward the door. The youth was reading over what he had
written, and caught no sound to withdraw his attention; but the beast
was right. There was a step--a familiar step--upon the stair-case, and
the good dog rose up, and walked toward the entrance of the room, just
as the door was opened, and another personage entered upon the scene.
He was a grave man, of the middle age, tall, well formed, and of a
noble and commanding presence. He was dressed principally in black
velvet, with a gown of that stuff, which was lined with fur, indeed,
though none of that lining was shown externally. On his head he had a
small velvet cap, without any feather, and his hair was somewhat
sprinkled with gray, though in all probability he had not passed the
age of forty.
"Well, Jean," he said, in a deliberate tone, as he entered the room
with a firm and | 1,374.266633 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE GHOSTS
AND OTHER LECTURES.
By Robert G. Ingersoll.
New York, N. Y. C.
P. FARRELL, PUBLISHER,
1892.
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1878,
by Robert G. Ingersoll
ECKLER, PRINTER, 35 FULT | 1,374.357392 |
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Produced by Chris Curnow, Matthias Grammel and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: This book belongs to]
Clown the Circus Dog
[Illustration: Clown the Circus Dog]
CLOWN
The Circus Dog
Story and Illustrations
By
A. Vimar
Author of "The Curly-Haired Hen"
Translated by Nora K. Hills
[Illustration: Clown the Circus Dog]
The Reilly & Britton Company
Chicago
Copyright, 1917
by
The Reilly & Britton Co.
_Clown, the Circus Dog_
_To My Little Daughter
Genevieve Vimar_
[Illustration: Child with cat and dog]
Table
Clown's Puppy Days 15
The Capture of Clown 43
Clown Escapes 54
Clown at the Circus 64
The Return Home 101
[Illustration: Dog on book]
Clown, the Circus Dog
1
CLOWN'S PUPPY DAYS
Summer was here at last. The winter had not been very cold, but it had
stayed long after spring should have come. Now it seemed almost too
warm, perhaps because only a few days before it had been so cold.
[Illustration: Desk with books, paper, quill, laurel wreaths]
It was the end of the school-year, the time for examinations and the
giving of prizes, and these last few days were hard on both teachers
and children.
[Illustration: Girl with dogs]
Already a holiday breeze was blowing over the budding and blossoming
country, and the hum of insects and the singing of birds made one think
of the fun that would come with vacation.
Among the scholars bending over their desks was Bertha, a little
dark-haired girl, her black eyes fringed with long lashes. She was
twelve years old and was working for her first certificate. Morning and
afternoon she came to the school, sometimes brought by the maid, but
more often by her mother.
As a child she had always been petted and spoiled by her parents, who
gave her all the candies and toys she wanted. Her little room was
crowded with dolls and playthings of all sorts, each of which had its
name.
There were fair dolls, dark dolls, white dolls, black dolls, big
dolls--some even were life-size--fat dolls, thin dolls, little dolls,
tiny dolls; there were jointed dolls, who opened and shut their eyes;
there were dolls who could talk, and dolls who kept silent. I believe
myself that Bertha loved the silent ones best; they could not answer
back, you see.
Uncle Jean, the brother of Bertha's father, had made a point of giving
Bertha her first toy. He brought her, one fine morning, a lovely white
poodle, which had pink silk ribbons on it and little tinkly bells.
There was a spring inside, and when Bertha pressed this gently with
her fingers, the dog barked. It was altogether so well made that you
would have thought it was alive.
When he gave it to her, before the whole family, Uncle Jean made her
the following speech:
[Illustration: Desk with toys...and dog puppet]
"My dear niece, I give you this dog rather than a doll, because the
dog is the friend of man, but a doll--" here he mumbled into his big
moustache a lot of long words which got so mixed up with the barking of
the dog that nobody could catch them. Perhaps it was just as well.
[Illustration: Woman with child, man with dog]
Uncle Jean was always saying funny clever things to make people laugh
but really he was very wise and thoughtful. Everybody liked him and he
was invited places all the time.
So Bertha's first plaything was this dog, who was then and there given
the name of "Clown." Why they hit upon this name I really cannot say.
After the dog there came, one by one, all the dolls I just told you
about, but Bertha loved Clown best. You see, he was the only dog she
had, but there were many dolls to share her love.
[Illustration: Bertha and dog puppet]
Every night he was put to bed at the feet of his little mistress, who,
each morning as she woke up, took him into her arms and hugged him
tight.
Later on, as Bertha grew older, she would talk to him for hours, Clown
answering with long barks, really made by Bertha's fingers pressing on
the spring.
They were then, as I was just now telling you, on the eve of the
examinations. Bertha was working her hardest. For several days she had
been very, very quiet, and just a little worried; her parents were
quite anxious and petted her even more than usual.
[Illustration: Bertha and her mother]
At last one morning, when her mother asked her what was the matter,
Bertha decided to tell her all about it. After a long sigh she said:
"Mother, if I pass my examination, will you give me what I have been
wanting for a long, long time?"
Then, without waiting for an answer, she went on:
"I want a dog, a little dog, but--a real live one. It will be quite
easy to get one if you will only let me. Miss Lewis, our principal
at school, is going to have some. Don't laugh, Mother, it is quite
true. She told me so herself, and she promised to give me one if you
and father would let me have it. Oh, you will ask father, won't you?
Everything depends on him," she murmured, snuggling up to her mother
and hugging her, "for I know you will let me, won't you, sweetest? Oh,
I am so happy, so proud to think of having a dog of my very own." She
was so excited, she clapped her hands and danced for joy.
Bertha passed her examinations with honors and, true to his promise,
her father said that she might have her dog.
After that nobody could think of anything but the doggie, so eagerly
expected. What would he be like? What color would he be? She imagined
him now black, now white, now black and white, now sandy. She asked
all sorts of questions of everybody she met. She dreamed of him, she
thought of him all day long, of nothing but him.
[Illustration: Marie with a letter for Bertha]
Her father told her not to get too excited, as he was afraid she might
be disappointed. Bertha listened at last to his good advice, but even
then she could not resist stopping to look in at the windows of the
leather goods stores, where muzzles, collars, chains, leashes, whips,
boots for the mud, coats and blankets--in short, all the things a dog
could need--were displayed.
Dreamily she gazed at the poodles and pet-dogs which passed her, led by
fine ladies.
But, what was this? Marie with a letter for the little girl? Bertha
recognized the handwriting. Miss Lewis had written to tell her the
great news--the puppies had arrived. Five of them. Five little puppies,
each with different markings, and Miss Lewis graciously invited her
pupil to come and choose.
[Illustration: Mrs. Lewis' dog with five puppies]
Bertha was breathless, wild with joy.
"Mother, Mother, let's go quick! My doggie is waiting."
Dressing hastily, mother and daughter went straight to Miss Lewis's
house, where they found her beside a beautiful black poodle, who,
jealously ready to protect her babies, looked at her visitors as though
she didn't quite trust them.
[Illustration: Little black puppy]
After much hesitation Bertha at last decided upon a sturdy little black
puppy, with a white lock set exactly in the middle of his forehead,
like a pennant, which made him look very quaint and cunning. Perhaps it
was the white lock that decided Bertha, anyhow, directly she saw him,
the darling, she cried:
"That's the one I want! I choose him."
She couldn't have told you herself why she chose that one. She thought
his brothers and sisters all very pretty, but he was the one she wanted.
Love is often like that.
Bertha, who already loved the puppy she had chosen, wanted to take him
home with her at once, but her mother and even Miss Lewis insisted
that he was too young yet. Just think, he was only just born. It would
not be wise to bring him up on the bottle--such a bother--and then the
risk of sickness and all that might cause his little mistress all sorts
of worry.
[Illustration: Puppy with mother]
Bertha saw that they were right, but she begged Miss Lewis to let her
come every day to see him, to which her teacher willingly agreed.
After that Bertha did not let a day go by without a visit to her little
friend. The mother-dog soon grew used to seeing the girl; she was a
trifle greedy, I must confess, and her affection was quite won by the
cakes and dainties which Bertha brought her.
[Illustration: Clown as puppy]
For more than a month the puppy stayed with his mother. He had to be
entirely weaned before his mistress could have him.
In the meantime Bertha was busier than ever, busier than she would have
been if she had had the doggie at home. She was making all sorts of
preparations for him. She bought a regular outfit for her baby, as she
called him, and she even wanted to get him nightcaps and pajamas. These
her mother did not think necessary. However, to make up for not getting
them, she had to get all kinds of other things: curtains for his bed,
cushions, ribbons, a collar, a leash, even a tiny muzzle. Her doggie
must be well provided for.
[Illustration: Dog on book]
After hesitating a long time over the name to be given to the newcomer,
Bertha decided to call him "Clown," after her first dog, Uncle Jean's
toy. Besides, the name suited him exactly; he was very active, and had
a happy look and clumsy ways which made you laugh.
He would spend hours chasing his tail, but as it was rather short and
his body very chubby, he never quite caught it. The look of disgust
which came over his face when he finally gave up was so funny that
Bertha laughed till the tears came to her eyes.
[Illustration: Clown]
Meantime all his brothers and sisters had been given away. This did
not worry Clown a bit; he certainly did not lose his appetite over it;
on the contrary, he stuffed himself nearly sick. He drank so hard that
sometimes the milk would run out of his nose. Eating like that, he soon | 1,374.362763 |
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E-text prepared by Clarity, Cindy Beyer, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/pestshore00shoriala
THE PEST
by
W. TEIGNMOUTH SHORE
Author of “The Talking Master,” “Egomet,” etc., and
Part Author of “The Fruit of the Tree”
[Illustration]
New York
C. H. Doscher & Co.
1909
Copyright, 1909, by
C. H. Doscher & Co.
The Pest
CHAPTER I
PAVEMENTS and roadway slippery with greasy, black mud; atmosphere yellow
with evil-tasting vapor; a November afternoon in London; evening drawing
on, fog closing down.
George Maddison, tall, erect, dark, walked slowly along, his eyes, ever
ready to seize upon any striking effect of color, noting the curious
mingling of lights: the dull yellow overhead, the chilly beams of the
street lamps, the glow and warmth from the shop windows. Few of the
faces he saw were cheerful, almost all wearing that expression of
discontent which such dreary circumstances bring to even the most
hardened and experienced Cockneys. For his own part he was well pleased,
having heard that morning of his election as an Associate of the Royal
Academy, a fact that gratified him not as adding anything to his repute,
but as being a compliment to the school of young painters of which he
was the acknowledged leader and ornament: impressionists whose
impressions showed the world to be beautiful; idealists who had the
imagination to see that the ideal is but the better part of the real.
Maddison paused before a highly lighted picture-dealer’s window,
glancing with amusement at the conventional prettiness there displayed;
then, turning his back upon it, he looked across the street, debating
whether he should cross over and have some tea at the famous pastry
cook’s. A tall, slight figure of a woman, neatly dressed in black,
caught his attention. Obviously, she too was hesitating over the same
question. In spite of the simplicity and quiet fashion of her black
gown, her air was elegant; her head nicely poised; her shoulders well
held; the lines of her figure graceful, lithe and seductive. Though he
could not see her face he felt certain that she was interesting and
attractive, if not beautiful; also, there was a something wistful and
forlorn about her that appealed to him. Warily stepping through the
slippery mud, he crossed over and stood behind her for a moment, marking
the graceful tendrils of red-gold hair that clustered round the n | 1,374.462681 |
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provided by the Internet Archive
THE WHITE DOVE
By William J. Locke
New York: John Lane Company
1899
O White Dove of the Pity Divine
J. H. Skunk
[Illustration: 0009]
THE WHITE DOVE
CHAPTER I--FATHER AND SON
“ Life is a glorious thing,” said the girl.
Sylvester Lanyon looked at her half in amusement, half in wistfulness.
There was no doubt whatever of her sincerity. Therein lay the pathetic.
To reply that the shadow of death and suffering clouded life's glory was
too obvious a rejoinder. So he smiled and said,--
“Well?”
“We ought to conquer it, make it our own, and live it to the full.”
“If it is to be conquered by us weak wretches, it can't be such a
glorious thing,” he remarked.
“But who said we were weak wretches?” she retorted. “You're not one,
and I'm not one!” She laughed, flushing a little. “No, I'm not,” she
repeated.
If Sylvester Lanyon had been endowed with the power of graceful words,
here was a chance for a pretty compliment. It was challenged by the
girl's self-conscious glance and by the splendid vitality of her youth;
for Ella Defries usually carried the air of a conqueror with a certain
sweet insolence. Some such idea passed vaguely through his mind, but,
unable to express it, he said, shifting his ground lamely,--
“You see I'm getting elderly.”
“Nonsense!” she said. “You're only five and thirty. My own age to a
day.”
“I don't quite follow,” said he.
“A woman is always ten years older than a man. You ought to know that.”
“And that proves?”
“That you ought to go into the world and win fame and mix with the
brilliant men and women in London who can appreciate you.”
“I don't want to mix with more brilliant men and women than those who
are under this _roof of Woodlands_,” said Sylvester.
Ella flushed again, but this time she drooped her eyes and bent her head
over her sewing for some time abandoned. A smile played round her lips.
“Your Aunt Agatha, for instance.”
“No, dear soul. The other two.”
He rose and filled his pipe from a tobacco jar on the mantel-piece.
The room, furnished with the solid mahogany and leather of a bygone
generation, was his father's particular den, where, however, of all
rooms in the house, he was least likely to find the privacy for which it
was set apart. Ella, during her periodical visits to Ayresford, calmly
monopolised it; Sylvester strolled in naturally from his widowed house
over the way; Miss Agatha Lanyon, although she pretended to cough at
the smoke, would leave her knitting promiscuously about on chairs
and tables, while the little grandchild Dorothy spilled the ink with
impunity over the Turkey carpet.
There was a silence while Sylvester lit his pipe and settled down again
in the leathern armchair by the fire.
“I want no better company than the dear old man's, and yours,” said he.
“My conversation is not fit for an intellectual man,” said Ella, with a
humility that contrasted with her conquering attitude of a few moments
before.
“You are a very clever girl,” said Sylvester.
She shook her head with a little air of scorn and threw her sewing on
the table.
“Oh, no. It pleases my vanity to think so. But what do I know in
comparison with you? What can I do? You go to a bedside and hold the
keys of life and death in your hand. To you, all the hidden forces and
mysteries of nature are every-day commonplaces. Professor Steinthal of
Vienna, whom I met the other day at Lady Milmo's, told me that, if you
chose, you could become the greatest bacteriologist in Europe.”
“Did he say that?” asked Sylvester, eagerly.
“Yes, and that is why you ought to go away and live in London and fulfil
your life gloriously.”
A look of amusement came into his grave eyes, and lit for a moment the
sombreness of a face prematurely careworn.
“I _am_ going to London,” he said. “I sold the practice this morning.”
Ella rose from her chair impetuously. “Why didn't you tell me at once,
instead of letting me say all these silly things? It is just like a
man.”
“You took my apathy so much for granted,” he said, laughing.
“I suppose I am a weak wretch, after all,” said Ella.
Sylvester put down his pipe and stood by her side.
“It is really all your doing, Ella. This is not the first time you have
pointed out my way to me. And it won't be the last, will it?”
There was a note of pathetic appeal in his tone that made her heart beat
a little faster. Of all the phases of his manhood that her instinctive
feminine alertness had caused him to present to her, this one moved her
the most strongly. An unwonted shy tenderness came into her eyes.
“It is for you to settle that,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment as if about to speak, but some inward
conflict seemed to check the words. A man's memories and dead loves rise
up sometimes and stare at him in sad reproach.
“I wish I had the gift of speech,” he said.
“What do you want to say?” she asked gently.
He smiled whimsically. “If I could tell you that, I should have the
gift.”
“You'll let me see something of you in London, won't you?”
“Why, of course! Whom else should I want to see? Frodsham's practice is
a large one--I am buying a share, you know. A specialist generally has
his hands full. I shall have neither the time nor the desire to go
about butterflying. Besides, it is only a few people that like me. I'm
generally looked upon as a'stick.'”
His head had been turned aside; and while there had been no danger of
his glance, Ella had scanned his face as a girl does that of a
man who is already something more to her than friend or brother. It
was thin and intellectual, somewhat careworn, with deep vertical lines
between the brows. The hair was black and wavy, thinning a little over
the temples; the features well cut and sensitive; the eyes, deeply
sunken, possessing keenness, but little brilliance; a moustache,
standing well away at each end from the cheeks, accentuated their sharp
contours. Yet in spite of the intellectual delicacy of the face, the
tanned, rough skin, corresponding with the well-knit wiriness of his
frame, gave assurance of strong physical health.
The last epithet in his remarks, so at variance with the character she
was idealising from her scrutiny, moved her ready indignation.
“I should like to have, a quarter of an hour with the fool that said
so!” she exclaimed.
“You are loyal to your friends,” said Sylvester.
They discussed the point. Ella let loose the fine scorn of five and
twenty for the shallow society that could not appreciate a man of his
calibre. Her championship was sweet for him to hear. For some time
past he had been gradually growing conscious of the force that this
sympathetic intelligence and this warm nature were bringing into his
life. Unwittingly he had revealed the fact to Ella. As woman, and
especially the fresh girl, is responsive, and gives bit by bit of
herself, as it is craved, Ella, when she looked into her heart, found
much that had been yielded. The situation therefore was sweet and
delicate.
“My going will be a blow to my father,” he said after a while. “I hardly
like to tell him.”
“He wouldn't stand in your way,” said Ella. “He's not like that. We have
talked it over scores of times. He is as anxious as I am for you to take
your proper place in the world.”
“Dear old fellow,” | 1,374.561581 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The page numbers of this Volume start with 275 (continuing the
numbering from Volume 1 of this work).
On page 282 guerillas should possibly be guerrillas.
On page 293 vigilants should possibly be vigilantes.
[Illustration]
_EDITION ARTISTIQUE_
The World's Famous
Places and Peoples
AMERICA
BY
JOEL COOK
In Six Volumes
Volume II.
MERRILL AND BAKER
New York London
THIS EDITION ARTISTIQUE OF THE WORLD'S FAMOUS PLACES AND PEOPLES IS
LIMITED TO ONE THOUSAND NUMBERED AND REGISTERED COPIES, OF WHICH THIS
COPY IS NO. 205
Copyright, Henry T. Coates & Co., 1900
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME II
PAGE
MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS, YELLOWSTONE _Frontispiece_
THE SUSQUEHANNA WEST OF FALMOUTH 284
THE CONEMAUGH NEAR FLORENCE 312
ON THE ASHLEY, NEAR CHARLESTON, S. C. 352
ON THE OCKLAWAHA 382
LINCOLN MONUMENT, LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO 432
CROSSING THE ALLEGHENIES.
IV.
CROSSING THE ALLEGHENIES.
The Old Pike -- The National Road -- Early Routes Across the
Mountains -- Old Lancaster Road -- Columbia Railroad -- The
Pennsylvania Route -- Haverford College -- Villa Nova -- Bryn
Mawr College -- Paoli -- General Wayne -- The Chester Valley --
Pequea Valley -- The Conestogas -- Lancaster -- Franklin and
Marshall College -- James Buchanan -- Thaddeus Stevens --
Conewago Hills -- Susquehanna River -- Columbia -- The
Underground Railroad -- Middletown -- Lochiel -- Simon Cameron
-- The Clan Cameron -- Harrisburg -- Charles Dickens and the
Camel's Back Bridge -- John Harris -- Lincoln's Midnight Ride
-- Cumberland Valley -- Carlisle -- Indian School -- Dickinson
College -- The Whisky Insurrection -- Tom the Tinker -- Lebanon
Valley -- Cornwall Ore Banks -- Otsego Lake -- Cooperstown --
James Fenimore Cooper -- Richfield Springs -- Cherry Valley --
Sharon Springs -- Howe's Cave -- Binghamton -- Northumberland
-- Williamsport -- Sunbury -- Fort Augusta -- The Dauphin Gap
-- Duncannon -- Duncan's Island -- Juniata River -- Tuscarora
Gap -- The Grasshopper War -- Mifflin -- Lewistown Narrows --
Kishicoquillas Valley -- Logan -- Jack's Narrows -- Huntingdon
-- The Standing Stone -- Bedford -- Morrison's Cove -- The
Sinking Spring -- Brainerd, the Missionary -- Tyrone --
Bellefonte -- Altoona -- Hollidaysburg -- The Portage Railroad
-- Blair's Gap -- The Horse Shoe -- Kittanning Point -- Thomas
Blair and Michael Maguire -- Loretto -- Prince Gallitzin --
Ebensburg -- Cresson Springs -- The Conemaugh River -- South
Fork -- Johnstown -- The Great Flood -- Laurel Ridge --
Packsaddle Narrows -- Chestnut Ridge -- Kiskiminetas River --
Loyalhanna Creek -- Fort Ligonier -- Great Bear Cave --
Hannastown -- General Arthur St. Clair -- Greensburg --
Braddock's Defeat -- Pittsburg, the Iron City -- Monongahela
River -- Allegheny River -- Ohio River -- Fort Duquesne --
Fort Pitt -- View from Mount Washington -- Pittsburg Buildings
-- Great Factories -- Andrew Carnegie -- George Westinghouse,
Jr. -- Allegheny Park and Monument -- Coal and Coke -- Davis
Island Dam -- Youghiogheny River -- Connellsville -- Natural
Gas -- Murrysville -- Petroleum -- Canonsburg -- Washington --
Petroleum Development -- Kittanning -- Modoc Oil District --
Fort Venango -- Oil City -- Pithole City -- Oil Creek --
Titusville -- Corry -- Decadence of Oil-Fields.
THE OLD PIKE.
The American aspiration has always been to go westward. In the early
history of the Republic the Government gave great attention to the
means of reaching the Western frontier, then cut off by what was
regarded as the almost insurmountable barrier of the Alleghenies.
General Washington was the first to project a chain of internal
improvements across the mountains, by the route of the Potomac to
Cumberland, then a Maryland frontier fort, and thence by roads to the
headwaters of the Ohio. The initial enactment was procured by him from
the Virginia Legislature in 1774, for improving the navigation of the
Potomac; but the Revolutionary War interfered, and he renewed the
movement afterwards in 1784, resulting in the charter of the
Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, of which Washington was the first
President. Little was done at that early period, however, in building
the canal, but the Government constructed the famous "National Road,"
the first highway over the Allegheny Mountains, from Cumberland in
Maryland, mainly through Southwestern Pennsylvania, to Wheeling on
the Ohio. This noted highway was finished and used throughout in 1818,
and, until the railways crossed the mountains, it was the great route
of travel to the West. It was familiarly known as the "Old Pike," and
Thomas B. Searight has entertainingly recorded its pleasant memories,
for it has now become mainly a relic of the past:
"We hear no more of the clanging hoof,
And the stage-coach, rattling by;
For the steam king rules the travelled world,
And the Old Pike's left to die."
He tells of the long lines of Conestoga wagons, each drawn by six
heavy horses, their broad wheels, canvas-covered tops and huge cargoes
of goods; of the swaying, rushing mail passenger coach, the
fleet-footed pony express; the flocks of sheep and herds of cattle,
the droves of horses and mules sent East from the "blue-grass" farms
of Kentucky; and occasionally of a long line of men and women, tied
two and two to a rope, driven by a slave-master from the South, to be
sold in the newer region of the Southwest. He describes how the famous
driver, Sam Sibley, brings up his grand coach at the hotel in
Uniontown with the great Henry Clay as chief passenger | 1,374.656053 |
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
DONAHOE'S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XV. BOSTON, FEBRUARY, 1886. No. 2
"THE future of the Irish race in this country, will depend largely
upon their capability of assuming an independent attitude in
American politics."--RIGHT REV. DOCTOR IRELAND, _St. Paul_, _Minn._
The Columbian Abbey of Derry.
One bright sunny day last summer I found myself in the city of Derry,
with some hours to spare. I passed them in rambling aimlessly about
whither fancy or accident led me,--now on the walls, endeavoring to
recall the particulars of that siege so graphically described by
Macaulay, now in the Protestant Cathedral musing on the proximity of
luxuriously-cushioned pew and cold sepulchral monument along which the
sun, streaming through the stained windows, threw a mellow glow that
softened but did not remove the hideousness of the death's emblems on
them--now wandering down the busy street and admiring the beauties of
the Casino College, which, like the alien cathedral a little distance
up, rejoices in the patronage of St. Columb and is built on the site of
his old monastery. Here I lingered long, trying to picture to myself the
olden glories of the spot on which I stood, for
"I do love these ancient ruins;
We never tread upon them
But we set our foot upon some reverend history;"
although here not an ivy-clasped gable, or even a mossy stone remains to
claim the "passing tribute" of a sigh, or a vain regret for the golden
days of our Irish Church. Yet its very barrenness of ruins made it
dearer to my heart, for one never clings more fondly to the memory of a
dear friend than when all mementoes of him are lost. As warned by the
stroke of the town-clock, I hurried down to the station to be whirled
away to Dublin, I thought that perhaps my fellow-readers of the MAGAZINE
would bear with me while I gossiped for half an hour on the story of
this grand old monastery, the mother-house of Iona.
You know where Derry is, or if you don't your atlas will tell you, that
it is away up in the north of Ireland, where, situated on the shores of
the Lough Foyle, coiling its streets round the <DW72>s of a hill till on
the very summit they culminate in the cross-crowned tower of St.
Columb's Cathedral, it lies in the midst of a beautiful country just
like a cameo fallen into a basket of flowers. The houses cluster round
the base of the hill on the land side, spread themselves in irregular
masses over the adjoining level, or clamber up the opposite rise on the
brow of which stands St. Eugene's Cathedral, yet unfinished, and the
pile of turrets which constitute Magee College. A noble bridge spans the
Foyle, and through a forest of shipmasts one may see on the other side
the city rising up from the water, and stretching along the bending
shore till it becomes lost in the villa-studded woods of Prehen.
The massive walls, half hidden by encroaching commerce, the grim-looking
gates, and the old rusty cannon whose mouth thundered the "No" of the
"Maiden City" to the rough advances of James, in 1689, give the city a
mediaeval air that well accords with its monastic origin. For, let her
citizens gild the bitter pill as they may, the cradle of Derry--the
Rochelle of Irish Protestantism--was rocked by monks--aye, by monks in
as close communion with Rome as are the dread Jesuits to-day.
Fourteen hundred years ago the Foyle flowed on to mingle its waters with
ocean as calmly as it does to-day, but its peaceful bosom reflected a
far different scene. Then the fair, fresh face of nature was unsullied
by the hand of man. "The tides flowed round the hill which was of an
oval form, and rose 119 feet above the level of the sea, thus forming an
island of about 200 acres."[1] A Daire or oak grove spread its leafy
shade over the whole, and gave shelter to the red deer and an unceasing
choir of little songsters. It was called in the language of the time
"Daire-Calgachi." The first part of the name in the modern form of
Derry, still remains--though now the stately rows of oak have given way
to the streets of a busy city, and the smoke of numerous factories
clouds the atmosphere.
One day, in the early part of 546, there visited the grove, in company
with the local chieftain, a youth named Columba, a scion of the royal
race of the O'Donnells. He was captivated by its beauty. It seemed the
very spot for the monastery he was anxious to establish. He was only a
deacon; but the fame of his sanctity had already filled the land, and
the princes of his family were ever urging him to found a monastery
whose monks, they hoped, would reflect his virtues and increase the
faith and piety of their clan. This seemed the very spot for such an
establishment. The neighborhood of the royal fortress of Aileach, that
"Sits evermore like a queen on her throne
And smiles on the valleys of green Innishowen,"
promised security; the river an unfailing supply of fish; the woods
material to build with; and, better than all, the lord of the district
was his cousin Ainmire, from whom Columba had only to ask to receive. He
did ask the island for God, and his request was joyfully complied with.
It was just three years after the deacon-abbot of Monte Casino had
passed to his reward, that the young Irish deacon began his monastery.
To erect monastic buildings in those days was a work of very little
labor. A wooden church, destined in the course of time to give place to
a more durable edifice--the seat of a bishopric--was first erected. Then
the cells of the monks were put up. They were of circular form and of
the simplest construction. A stout post was firmly planted in what was
to be the centre, and a number of slighter poles were then placed at
equal distances round it. The interstices--space however having been
left for a door--were filled up with willow or hazel saplings in the
form of basketwork. From the outer poles rafters sprang to the
centre-posts, and across them were laid rows of laths over which a fibry
web of sod was thrown, and the whole thatched with straw or rushes. The
inside of the wall was lined with moss--the outside plastered with soft
clay. A rough wooden bed--and in the case of Columba himself and many of
his monks--a stone pillow, a polaire or leathern satchel for holding
books, a writing-desk and seat, formed the furniture of this rude cell,
which was the ordinary dwelling of monk and student during the golden
age of the Irish Church.
Only a few weeks elapsed from the time that the first tree was felled
till the new community, or rather order, took up their abode in it, and
the swelling strain of their vespers was borne down the Lough by the
rippling breeze and echoed by the religious, whose convents, presided
over by SS. Frigidian and Cardens sentinelled the mouth of the Lough at
Moville and Coleraine. The habit of these monks--similar to that of Iona
and Lindisfarne, consisted of "[2]the cowl--of coarse texture, made of
wool, retaining its natural color and the tunic, or under habit, which
was also white. If the weather was particularly severe an amphibalus, or
double mantle, was permitted. When engaged at work on the farm the
brethern wore sandals which were not used within the monastery."
Though their time was mainly devoted to prayer, meditation and the
various other religious exercises, yet their rule made them apply every
spare moment to copying and illuminating MSS. or some other kind of
manual or intellectual labor, according as their strength and talents
permitted. By this, people were attracted to the spot. Houses sprang up
in the neighborhood of the monastery, that continually increasing in
number, at length grew into a city, just as from a similar monastic germ
have sprung nearly all the great German cities.
Columba in the busy years that elapsed between 546 and his final
departure from Ireland in 563, looked upon Derry as his home. It was his
first and dearest monastery. It was in his own Tyrconnell, but a few
miles from that home by Lough Gartan, where he first saw the light, and
from his foster home amid the mountains of Kilmacrenan, that, rising
with their green belts of trees and purple | 1,374.658762 |
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Produced by Jane Robins, Reiner Ruf, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
######################################################################
Transcriber’s Notes
This e-text is based on ‘Cassell’s Natural History, Vol. I,’ from 1896.
Inconsistent and uncommon spelling and hyphenation have been retained;
punctuation and typographical errors have been corrected.
In the original book, Chapter XI of the order ‘Quadrumana’ (page 185)
had been erroneously named ‘Chapter IX.’ The correct sequence of
chapter numbers has been restored.
In the List of Illustrations, some image titles do not match the
illustrations presented in the text. The following titles have been
changed:
‘The Green and RedMonkeys’ --> ‘The Gorilla’ (facing page 111)
‘The Sacred Baboon’ --> ‘The Chimpanzee’ (facing page 137)
‘A Group of Lemuroids’ --> ‘Anubis Baboon’ (facing page 211)
The list item ‘Hand of the Spider Monkey’ has been added by the
transcriber.
The printed book shows some references to numbered ‘Plates’ (full-page
images). This numbering scheme seems to originate from an earlier
edition | 1,374.658879 |
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Transcribed from the 1903 John Lane edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
Poems by Alice Meynell
Contents:
SONNET--MY HEART SHALL BE THY GARDEN
SONNET--THOUGHTS IN SEPARATION
TO A POET
SONG OF THE SPRING TO THE SUMMER
TO THE BELOVED
MEDITATION
TO THE BELOVED DEAD--A LAMENT
SONNET
IN AUTUMN
A LETTER FROM A GIRL TO HER OWN OLD AGE
SONG
BUILDERS OF RUINS
SONNET
SONG OF THE DAY TO THE NIGHT
'SOEUR MONIQUE'
IN EARLY SPRING
PARTED
REGRETS
SONG
SONNET--IN FEBRUARY
SAN LORENZO GIUSTINIANI'S MOTHER
SONNET--THE LOVE OF NARCISSUS
TO A LOST MELODY
SONNET--THE POET TO NATURE
THE POET TO HIS CHILDHOOD
SONNET
AN UNMARKED FESTIVAL
SONNET--THE NEOPHYTE
SONNET--SPRING ON THE ALBAN HILLS
SONG OF THE NIGHT AT DAYBREAK
SONNET--TO A DAISY
SONNET--TO ONE POEM IN A SILENT TIME
FUTURE POETRY
THE POET SINGS TO HER POET
A POET'S SONNET
THE MODERN POET
AFTER A PARTING
RENOUNCEMENT
VENI CREATOR
DEDICATION
TO W. M.
_Most of these verses were written in the author's early youth, and were
published in a volume called 'Preludes,' now out of print. Other poems,
representing the same transitory and early thoughts, which appeared in
that volume, are now omitted as cruder than the rest; and their place is
taken by the few verses written in maturer years_.
SONNET--MY HEART SHALL BE THY GARDEN
My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.
But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
For as these come and go, and quit our pine
To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees.
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.
SONNET--THOUGHTS IN SEPARATION
We never meet; yet we meet day by day
Upon those hills of life, dim and immense:
The good we love, and sleep--our innocence.
O hills of life, high hills! And higher than they,
Our guardian spirits meet at prayer and play.
Beyond pain, joy, and hope, and long suspense,
Above the summits of our souls, far hence,
An angel meets an angel on the way.
Beyond all good I ever believed of thee
Or thou of me, these always love and live.
And though I fail of thy ideal of me,
My angel falls not short. They greet each other.
Who knows, they may exchange the kiss we give,
Thou to thy crucifix, I to my mother.
TO A POET
Thou who singest through the earth,
All the earth's wild creatures fly thee,
Everywhere thou marrest mirth.
Dumbly they defy thee.
There is something they deny thee.
Pines thy fallen nature ever
For the unfallen Nature sweet.
But she shuns thy long endeavour,
Though her flowers and wheat
Throng and press thy pausing feet.
Though thou tame a bird to love thee,
Press thy face to grass and flowers,
All these things reserve above thee
Secrets in the bowers,
Secrets in the sun and showers.
Sing thy sorrow, sing thy gladness.
In thy songs must wind and tree
Bear the fictions of thy sadness,
Thy humanity.
For their truth is not for thee.
Wait, and many a secret nest,
Many a hoarded winter-store
Will be hidden on thy breast.
Things thou longest for
Will not fear or shun thee more.
Thou shalt intimately lie
In the roots of flowers that thrust
Upwards from thee to the sky,
With no more distrust,
When they blossom from thy dust.
Silent labours of the rain
Shall be near thee, reconciled;
Little lives of leaves and grain,
All things shy and wild
Tell thee secrets, quiet child.
Earth, set free from thy fair fancies
And the art thou shalt resign,
Will bring forth her rue and <DW29>s
Unto more divine
Thoughts than any thoughts of thine.
Nought will fear thee, humbled creature.
There will lie thy mortal burden
Pressed unto the heart of Nature,
Songless in | 1,374.659019 |
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[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.
Fourth Series
CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.
NO. 716. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1877. PRICE 1½_d._]
YOUTHFUL PRODIGIES.
A curious question has more than once been asked: have the most
remarkable works, in the various kinds of literary labour, been
produced in the flush of youth or the calmness of age? Are men
better fitted for vigorous exercise of the mind in the first half
or the second half of their existence? The spring and elasticity of
temperament, the warmth of feeling, the hopeful aspirations, the
activity of vital energy, the longing to throw the thoughts into some
kind of words or of music--all tempt one, at a first glance, to say
that early authorship is more probable than later.
Certainly the examples of young authorship are neither few nor
unimportant. Of course we may take Tristram Shandy's authority with
as many grains of allowance as we please; but the marvels told in his
colloquy are unique. Yorick declared that Vincent Quirinus, before he
was eight years old, pasted up in the public schools of Rome more than
four thousand five hundred theses on abstruse questions, and defended
them against all opponents. Mr Shandy capped this by citing one erudite
man who learned all the sciences and liberal arts without being taught
any of them.
Isaac D'Israeli, in his _Curiosities of Literature_, notices many
curious examples; and the subject was taken up by a pleasant writer
in the _Globe_ newspaper, a few months ago. Pope wrote some of his
_Pastorals_ at sixteen; and a large number of his works, including
the translation of Homer, were thrown off before he reached thirty.
Edgar Poe wrote his _Helen_, remarkable for its beauty of style, when
scarcely more than eleven years old. Cowley at fifteen published
his _Poetic Blossoms_; while his _Pyramus and Thisbe_, though not
published till his sixteenth year, is said to have been written when
he was only ten. Lord Bacon planned his great work, the _Novum Organum
Scientiarum_, when only sixteen, although the writing was the work of
maturer years. The late Bishop Thirlwall wrote his _Primitiæ_ when a
boy of only eleven years of age; he was one of the few who wrote both
early and late, a wonderful example of long-continued mental activity.
Dr Watts almost _thought_ in verse when a boy. Crabbe wrote both early
and late, but not much in middle life; he published his first poem at
twenty, and his _Village_ before thirty; then a silence of twenty years
was followed by a renewal of literary labour. Charlotte Bronté wrote
in very early life, 'because she could not help it.' Chatterton, the
scapegrace who applied so much of his marvellous powers to dishonest
or lying purposes, wrote minor pieces of poetry at fifteen, and soon
afterwards a pretended pedigree of a Bristol family. At sixteen he
published the alleged plays and poems of Rowley, described by him
as a priest or monk of the fifteenth century; at about seventeen he
brought forward some pretended old parchments, made to appear soiled
and timeworn, containing a fictitious description of an old bridge at
Bristol; and then wrote biographies of Bristol artists who never lived.
Coming to London, he wrote many satirical and political papers for the
press; and ended his extraordinary life before he had completed his
eighteenth year.
As a child (never so old as what we should call a 'lad'), Christian
Heineker was one of the most singular of whom we find record. He was
born at Lübeck about a century and a half ago. When only ten months old
he could (if we are to believe the accounts of him) repeat every word
said to him; at twelve months he knew much of Plutarch by heart; at
two years he knew the greater part of the Bible; at three could answer | 1,374.756814 |
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TWO YEARS AGO
[Illustration]
TWO YEARS AGO
BY
CHARLES KINGSLEY
IN TWO VOLS.--VOL. II
1901
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAP
XV THE CRUISE OF THE WATERWITCH
XVI COME AT LAST
XVII BAALZEBUB'S BANQUET
XVIII THE BLACK HOUND
XIX BEDDGELERT
XX BOTH SIDES OF THE MOON AT ONCE
XXI NATURE'S MELODRAMA
XXII FOND, YET NOT FOOLISH
XXIII THE BROAD STONE OF HONOUR
XXIV THE THIRTIETH OF SEPTEMBER
XXV THE BANKER AND HIS DAUGHTER
XXVI TOO LATE
XXVII A RECENT EXPLOSION IN AN ANCIENT CRATER
XXVIII LAST CHRISTMAS EVE
TWO YEARS AGO.
CHAPTER XV.
THE CRUISE OF THE WATERWITCH.
The middle of August is come at last; and with it the solemn day on
which Frederick Viscount Scoutbush may be expected to revisit the home
of his ancestors. Elsley has gradually made up his mind to the
inevitable, with a stately sulkiness: and comforts himself, as the time
draws near, with the thought that, after all, his brother-in-law is not
a very formidable personage.
But to the population of Aberalva in general, the coming event is one of
awful jubilation. The shipping is all decked with flags; all the Sunday
clothes have been looked out, and many a yard of new ribbon and pound of
bad powder bought; there have been arrangements for a procession, which
could not be got up; for a speech which nobody would undertake to
pronounce; and, lastly, for a dinner, about which last there was no
hanging back. Yea, also, they have hired from Carcarrow Church-town,
sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music; for Frank has put
down the old choir band at Aberalva,--another of his mistakes,--and
there is but one fiddle and a clarionet now left in all the town. So the
said town waits all the day on tiptoe, ready to worship, till out of the
soft brown haze the stately Waterwitch comes sliding in, like a white
ghost, to fold her wings in Aberalva bay.
And at that sight the town is all astir. Fishermen shake themselves up
out of their mid-day snooze, to admire the beauty, as she slips on and
on through water smooth as glass, her hull hidden by the vast curve of
the balloon-jib, and her broad wings boomed out alow and aloft, till it
seems marvellous how that vast screen does not topple headlong, instead
of floating (as it seems) self-supporting above its image in the mirror.
Women hurry to put on their best bonnets; the sexton toddles up with the
church key in his hand, and the ringers at his heels; the Coastguard
Lieutenant bustles down to the Manby's mortar, which he has hauled out
in readiness on the pebbles. Old Willis hoists a flag before his house,
and half-a-dozen merchant skippers do the same. Bang goes the harmless
mortar, burning the British nation's powder without leave or licence;
and all the rocks and woods catch up the echo, and kick it from cliff to
cliff, playing at football with it till its breath is beaten out; a
rolling fire of old muskets and bird-pieces crackles along the shore,
and in five minutes a poor lad has blown a ramrod through his hand.
Never mind, lords do not visit Penalva every day. Out burst the bells
above with merry peal; Lord Scoutbush and the Waterwitch are duly "rung
in" to the home of his lordship's ancestors; and he is received, as he
scrambles up the pier steps from his boat, by the curate, the
churchwardens, the Lieutenant, and old Tardrew, backed by half-a-dozen
ancient sons of Anak, lineal descendants of the free fishermen to whom
six hundred years before, St. Just of Penalva did grant privileges hard
to spell, and harder to understand, on the condition of receiving,
whensoever he should land at the quay head, three brass farthings from
the "free fishermen of Aberalva."
Scoutbush shakes hands with curate, Lieutenant, Tardrew, churchwardens;
and then come forward the three farthings, in an ancient leather purse.
"Hope your lordship will do us the honour to shake hands with us too; we
are your lordship's free fishermen, as we have been your forefathers',"
says a magnificent old man, gracefully acknowledging the feudal tie,
while he claims the exemption.
Little Scoutbush, who is the kindest-hearted of men, clasps the great
brown fist in his little white one, and shakes hands heartily with every
one of them, saying,--"If your forefathers were as much taller than
mine, as you are than me, gentlemen, I shouldn't wonder if they took
their own freedom, without asking his leave for it!"
A lord who begins his progress with a jest! That is the sort of
aristocrat to rule in Aberalva! And all agree that evening, at the
Mariners' Rest, that his lordship is as nice a young | 1,374.761688 |
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THE EXTRA DAY
BY
ALGERNON BLACKWOOD
AUTHOR OF "THE CENTAUR," "A PRISONER IN FAIRYLAND," "INCREDIBLE
ADVENTURES," ETC.
New York
1915
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1915. Reprinted November,
1915.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE MATERIAL
II FANCY--SEED OF WONDER
III DEATH OF A MERE FACT
IV FACT--EDGED WITH FANCY
V THE BIRTH OF WONDER
VI THE GROWTH OF WONDER
VII IMAGINATION WAKES
VIII WHERE WONDER HIDES
IX A PRIEST OF WONDER
X FACT AND WONDER--CLASH
XI JUDY'S PARTICULAR ADVENTURE
XII TIM'S PARTICULAR ADVENTURE
XIII TIME HESITATES
XIV MARIA STIRS
XV "A DAY WILL COME"
XVI TIME HALTS
XVII A DAY HAS COME
XVIII TIME GOES ON AGAIN--
XIX --AS USUAL
XX --BUT DIFFERENTLY!
CHAPTER I
THE MATERIAL
Judy, Tim, and Maria were just little children. It was impossible to
say exactly what their ages were, except that they were just the usual
age, that Judy was the eldest, Maria the youngest, and that Tim,
accordingly, came in between the two.
Their father did his best for them; so did their mother; so did Aunt
Emily, the latter's sister. It is impossible to say very much about
these three either, except that they were just Father, Mother, and Aunt
Emily. They were the Authorities-in-Chief, and they knew respectively
everything there was to be known about such remote and difficult
subjects as London and Money; Food, Health and Clothing; Conduct,
Behaviour and Regulations, both general and particular. Into these
three departments of activity the children, without realising that they
did so, classed them neatly. Aunt Emily, besides the special duties
assigned to her, was a living embodiment of No. While Father allowed
and permitted, while Mother wobbled and hesitated, Aunt Emily shook her
head with decision, and said distinctly No. She was too full of
warnings, advice, and admonitions to get about much. She wore gold
glasses, and had an elastic, pointed nose. From the children's point of
view she must be classed as invalid. Somewhere, deep down inside them,
they felt pity.
The trio loved them according to their just deserts; they grasped that
the Authorities did their best for them. This "best," moreover, was
done in different ways. Father did it with love and tenderness, that
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SERVANTS OF THE GUNS
BY
JEFFERY E. JEFFERY
_By the ears and the eyes and the brain,
By the limbs and the hands and the wings,
We are slaves to our masters the guns,
But their slaves are the masters of kings!_
GILBERT FRANKAU.
LONDON SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1917
[_All rights reserved_]
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED LONDON AND BECCLES,
ENGLAND
_TO
ONE WHO KNOWS NOTHING OF GUNS
BUT MUCH OF LIFE
MY MOTHER_
CONTENTS
PART I
THE NEW "UBIQUE"
BEGINNING AGAIN
A BATTERY IN BEING
"IN THE LINE"
SPIT AND POLISH
A BATTLE
PART II
AND THE OLD
BILFRED
"THE PROGRESS OF PICKERSDYKE"
SNATTY
FIVE-FOUR-EIGHT
PART III
IN ENEMY HANDS
SOME EXPERIENCES OF A PRISONER OF WAR
HENRY
PART I
THE NEW "UBIQUE"
BEGINNING AGAIN
As the long troop train rumbled slowly over the water-logged wastes of
Flanders, I sat in the corner of a carriage which was littered with all
the _debris_ of a twenty-four hours' journey and watched the fiery
winter's sun set gorgeously. It was Christmas evening. Inevitably my
mind went back to that other journey of sixteen months ago when we set
forth so proudly, so exultantly to face the test of war.
But how different, how utterly different is everything now! Last time,
with the sun shining brilliantly from a cloudless sky and the French
sentries along the line waving enthusiastically, we passed cheerfully
through the pleasant land of France towards our destination on the
frontier. I was a subaltern then, a subordinate member of a battery
which, according to pre-war standards, was equipped and trained to
perfection--and I can say this without presumption, for having only
joined it in July I had had no share in the making of it. But I had
been in it long enough to appreciate its intense _esprit-de-corps_, long
enough to share the absolute confidence in its efficiency which inspired
every man in it from the major to the second trumpeter.
But now it is midwinter, the second winter of the war, and the French
sentries no longer wave to us, for they have seen too many train-loads
of English troops to be more than mildly interested. The war to which we
set out so light-heartedly sixteen months ago has proved itself to be
not the "greatest of games," but the greatest of all ghastly horrors
threatening the final disruption of civilised humanity. More than a year
has passed and the end is not in sight. But the cause is as righteous,
the victory as certain now as it was then.... The methods and practice
of warfare have been revolutionised. Theory after theory has been
disproved by the devastating power of the high explosive and the giant
gun. Horse and field batteries no longer dash into action to the music
of jingling harness and thudding hoofs. They creep in by night with
infinite precautions and place their guns in casemates which are often
ten feet thick; they occupy the same position not for hours, but for
months at a time; they fire at targets which are sometimes only fifty
yards or even less in front of their own infantry, with the knowledge
that the smallest error may mean death to their comrades; and the
control of their shooting is no longer an affair of good eyesight and
common sense, but of science, complicated instruments, and a
multiplicity of telephones.
And I, a novice at all this kind of work, am no longer a subaltern. I am
directly responsible for the welfare and efficiency of the battery which
this long train is bearing into the zone of war. How we fare when we get
there, what kind of tasks are allotted to us, and how we succeed in
coping with them I hope to record in due course. But this I know
now--the human material with which I have to deal is good enough. We
have the advantage of being a homogeneous unit, for we belong to one of
the "locally raised" divisions. With only a very few exceptions (notably
the sergeant-major, who is a "serving soldier" of vast proportions and
great merit), the N.C.O.'s and men all come from the same district. Many
of them were acquainted in private life and enlisted in little coteries
of five or six. Christian names are freely used, which is fortunate
seeing that we have four Jones', five Davies', and no less than eight
Evans' on our roll. In moments of excitement or of anger they resort to
their own language and encourage or abuse each other in voluble
Welsh....
A few miles back we passed G.H.Q. I was vaguely impressed with the
silent dignity, the aloofness, as it were, of that now celebrated place.
Our train drew up in the station, which seemed as deserted as that of a
small English country town on a Sunday. "Here, within a mile of me," I
thought, "dwell the Powers that Be, whose brains control the destinies
of a million men. Here somewhere is the individual who knows my
destination and when I am likely to get to it." But this surmise proved
incorrect. It was three-thirty on Christmas afternoon and even the staff
must lunch. Presently a R.T.O.[1] issued from a cosy-looking office and
crossed the line towards me. His first question was positively painful
in its naive simplicity.
[1] Railway Transport Officer.
"Who are _you_?" he inquired haughtily. My reply was not only correct
but dignified. "We know nothing about you," he said. "The staff officer
who should have been here to give you your instructions is away at
present." (I think I mentioned that it was Christmas Day!)
"Never mind," I replied, "but would it be disturbing your arrangements
at all if I watered my horses and gave my men some food here? They've
had nothing since last night, and the horses have been ten hours without
water."
"No time for that. You'll leave in two minutes."
And sure enough in half an hour we were off again!...
When, soon after five, we learnt that we were within a few minutes of
our journey's end I leant across and woke "The Child"--who is my junior
subaltern. If this war had not come to pass the Child would probably be
enjoying his Christmas holidays and looking forward to his last term at
his public school. Actually, he has already nine months' service, of
which three have been spent at the front. He has been home wounded and
is now starting out again as a veteran to whom less experienced persons
refer their doubts and queries. Last week he celebrated his eighteenth
birthday. He is the genuine article, that is he holds a regular
commission and has passed through "the Shop."[2] His clothes fit him,
his aspirates appear in the right places, he is self-possessed,
competent, level-headed and not infrequently amusing. Of his particular
type of manhood (or rather boyhood) he is a fine | 1,374.95687 |
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SHORT STORIES AND SELECTIONS
FOR USE IN THE SECONDARY SCHOOLS
COMPILED AND ANNOTATED, WITH QUESTIONS FOR STUDY
BY
EMILIE KIP BAKER
[Illustration: Walter Scott's Library at Abbotsford]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A LEAF IN THE STORM, _by_ Louise de la Ramee,
_from_ A Leaf in the Storm and Other Stories
CATS, _by_ Maurice Hewlett,
_from_ Earthwork out of Tuscany
AN ADVENTURE, _by_ Honore de Balzac,
_from_ A Passion in the Desert
FOR THOSE WHO LOVE MUSIC, _by_ Axel Munthe,
_from_ Vagaries
OUT OF DOORS, _by_ Richard Jefferies,
_from_ Saint Guido
THE TABOO, _by_ Herman Melville,
_from_ Typee
SCHOOL DAYS AT THE CONVENT, _by_ George Sand,
_from_ The Story of My Life (adapted)
IN BRITTANY, _by_ Louisa Alcott,
_from_ Aunt Jo's Scrap Bag
THE ADIRONDACKS, _by_ John Burroughs,
_from_ Wake Robin
AN ASCENT OF KILAUEA, _by_ Lady Brassey,
_from_ Around the World in the Yacht Sunbeam
THE FETISH, _by_ George Eliot,
_from_ The Mill on the Floss
SALMON FISHING IN IRELAND, _by_ James A. Froude,
_from_ A Fortnight in Kerry
ACROSS RUNNING WATER, _by_ Fiona Macleod,
_from_ Sea Magic and Running Water
THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS, _by_ Nathaniel Hawthorne,
_from_ Grandfather's Chair
THE WHITE TRAIL, _by_ Stewart Edward White,
_from_ The Silent Places
A DISSERTATION ON ROAST PIG, _by_ Charles Lamb,
_from_ Essays of Elia
THE LAST CLASS, _by_ Alphonse Daudet,
_from_ Monday Tales
AN ARAB FISHERMAN, _by_ Albert Edwards,
_from_ The Barbary Coast
THE ARCHERY CONTEST, _by_ Walter Scott,
_from_ Ivanhoe
BABY SYLVESTER, _by_ Bret Harte,
_from_ Bret Harte's Writings
THE ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG, _by_ Abraham Lincoln,
_from_ Lincoln's Speeches
THE SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS, _by_ Abraham Lincoln,
_from_ Lincoln's Speeches
AN APPRECIATION OF LINCOLN, _by_ John Hay,
_from_ Life of Lincoln
THE ELEPHANTS THAT STRUCK, _by_ Samuel White Baker,
_from_ Eight Years in Ceylon
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP, _by_ Bret Harte
THE STORY OF MUHAMMAD DIN, _by_ Rudyard Kipling,
_from_ Plain Tales from the Hills
A CHILD, _by_ John Galsworthy,
_from_ Commentary
TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE, _by_ Benjamin Franklin,
_from_ The Autobiography
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT, _by_ Robert Louis Stevenson,
_from_ The New Arabian Nights
A BAD FIVE MINUTES IN THE ALPS, _by_ Leslie Stephen,
_from_ Freethinking and Plainspeaking (adapted)
THE GOLD TRAIL, _by_ Stewart Edward White,
_from_ Gold
TWENTY YEARS OF ARCTIC STRUGGLE, _by_ J. Kennedy McLean,
_from_ Heroes of the Farthest North and South (adapted)
THE SPEECH IN MANCHESTER, _by_ Henry Ward Beecher,
_from_ Addresses and Sermons
A GREEN DONKEY DRIVER, _by_ Robert Louis Stevenson,
_from_ Travels with a Donkey
A NIGHT IN THE PINES, _by_ Robert Louis Stevenson,
_from_ Travels with a Donkey
LIFE IN OLD NEW YORK, _by_ Washington Irving,
_from_ Knickerbocker's History of New York
THE BAZAAR IN MOROCCO, _by_ Pierre Loti,
_from_ Into Morocco
A BATTLE OF THE ANTS, _by_ Henry D. Thoreau,
_from_ Walden (adapted)
AN AFRICAN PET, _by_ Paul B. du Chaillu,
_from_ The African Forest and Jungle
ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE, _by_ Lloyd Morgan,
_from_ Animal Sketches (adapted)
BUCK'S TRIAL OF STRENGTH, _by_ Jack London,
_from_ The Call of the Wild
ON THE SOLANDER WHALING GROUND, _by_ Frank Bullen,
_from_ Idylls of the Sea
AN EPISODE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, _by_ Charles Dickens,
_from_ A Tale of Two Cities
THE COMMANDER OF THE FAITHFUL, _by_ Pierre Loti,
_from_ Into Morocco (adapted)
WALT WHITMAN, _by_ John Burroughs,
_from_ Whitman--A Study (adapted)
HEROISM IN HOUSEKEEPING, _by_ Jane Welsh Carlyle,
_from_ Letters
A YOUTHFUL ACTOR, _by_ Thomas Bailey Aldrich,
_from_ The Story of a Bad Boy
WAR, _by_ Thomas Carlyle, _from_ Sartor Resartus
<DW53>-HUNTING, _by_ Ernest Ingersoll,
_from_ Wild Neighbors (adapted)
SIGHT IN SAVAGES, _by_ W. H. Hudson,
_from_ Idle Days in Patagonia
THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER, _by_ Washington Irving,
_from_ The Sketch Book
INTRODUCTION
The testimony of librarians as to the kind of books people are reading
| 1,375.154674 |
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[Illustration: frontispiece]
MRS. LOUDON’S
ENTERTAIN | 1,375.555438 |
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A MODERN WIZARD
BY
RODRIGUES OTTOLENGUI
AUTHOR OF "AN ARTIST IN CRIME," "A CONFLICT OF EVIDENCE," ETC.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK LONDON
27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
The Knickerbocker Press
1894
COPYRIGHT, 1894
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London
Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
TO
HON. GEORGE P. ANDREWS
JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF
THE STATE OF NEW YORK
WHO IS RECOGNIZED, NOT ONLY AS AN EMINENT JURIST
BUT AS A TYPE OF HUMAN JUSTICE
AND LEGAL INTEGRITY
THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
CONTENTS.
BOOK FIRST.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--LAWYER AND CLIENT 1
II.--JACK BARNES INVESTIGATES 17
III.--A WIZARD'S TRICK 32
IV.--DR. MEDJORA SURRENDERS 53
V.--FOR THE PROSECUTION 70
VI.--DAMAGING TESTIMONY 84
VII.--THE PROSECUTION RESTS 101
VIII.--FOR THE DEFENCE 120
IX.--THE DEFENCE CLOSES 137
X.--MR. BLISS MAKES HIS SPEECH 149
XI.--TERMINATION OF THE GREAT CASE 165
BOOK SECOND.
I.--ONE NIGHT 183
II.--A FRIEND IN NEED 205
III.--SELLING A NEW ENGLAND FARM 225
IV.--AN OMINOUS WELCOME 239
V.--A FACE FROM THE PAST 257
VI.--AGNES DUDLEY 272
VII.--A WIZARD'S TEACHING 288
VIII.--THE FAITHFUL DOG 311
IX.--A WIZARD'S KNOWLEDGE 330
X.--THE BETROTHAL 347
XI.--THE GENESIS OF LOVE 362
XII.--THE MARQUIS OF LOSSY 375
XIII.--THE DISCOVERY 392
XIV.--SANATOXINE 407
A MODERN WIZARD.
BOOK FIRST.
CHAPTER I.
LAWYER AND CLIENT.
Early one morning, in the spring of eighteen hundred and
seventy-three, two young lawyers were seated in their private office.
The firm name, painted in gilt letters upon the glass of the door, was
DUDLEY & BLISS. Mortimer Dudley was the senior member, though not over
thirty years old. Robert Bliss was two years younger.
Mr. Dudley was sorting some papers and deftly tying them into bundles
with red tape. Why lawyers will persist in using tape of a sanguine
color is an unsolvable mystery to me, unless it may be that they are
loath to disturb the many old adages in which the significant couplet
of words appears. However that may be, Mr. Dudley paused in his
occupation, attracted by an exclamation from his partner, who had been
reading a morning paper.
"What is it, Robert?" asked Mr. Dudley.
"Oh! Only another sensational murder case, destined, I imagine, to add
more lustre to the name of some lawyer who doesn't need it. Mortimer,
I wonder when our turn will come. Here we have been in these rooms for
three months, and not a criminal case has come to us yet."
"Don't be impatient, Robert. We must not give up hope. Look at Munson.
He was in the same class with us at college, and we all considered him
a dunce. By accident he was engaged to defend that fellow who was
accused of poisoning his landlady. Munson actually studied chemistry
in order to defend the case. His cross-examination of the
prosecution's experts made him famous. Who knows! We may get an
opportunity like that some day."
"Some day! Yes, some day! I believe there is a song that begins that
way. I always detested it. I do not like that word'some day.' It's so
beastly indefinite. I prefer 'to-day' or even 'to-morrow.' But let me
read to you the account of this case. It is about that young woman who
died so mysteriously, up in the boarding-house on West Twenty-sixth
Street."
"I don't know anything about it, Robert. I haven't read the papers for
| 1,375.954287 |
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THE COURT AND CABINETS
OF
GEORGE THE THIRD.
VOL. II.
[Illustration]
MEMOIRS
OF THE
COURT AND CABINETS
OF
GEORGE THE THIRD.
FROM ORIGINAL FAMILY DOCUMENTS.
BY
THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM AND CHANDOS,
K.G.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1853.
LONDON:
Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
1788.
(CONTINUED.)
THE KING'S ILLNESS--CONDUCT OF THURLOW--PLANS OF MINISTERS--DISCUSSIONS
IN PARLIAMENT--IRISH VIEW OF THE REGENCY QUESTION--PROCEEDINGS
OF THE PRINCE'S PARTY--THE RATS IN BOTH HOUSES 1-83
1789.
DEATH OF THE SPEAKER--MR. GRENVILLE ELECTED IN HIS PLACE--COMMITTEE
ON THE REGENCY--THE HOUSEHOLD BILL--CONDUCT OF THE
PRINCES--ADDRESS TO THE PRINCE OF WALES FROM THE IRISH PARLIAMENT--RECOVERY
OF THE KING--DECISIVE MEASURES OF LORD BUCKINGHAM--IRISH
PROMOTIONS AND CREATIONS--DISSENSIONS IN THE ROYAL
FAMILY--MR. GRENVILLE APPOINTED SECRETARY OF STATE--MR. ADDINGTON
ELECTED SPEAKER--LORD BUCKINGHAM RESIGNS THE GOVERNMENT OF
IRELAND 84-175
1790.
MR. GRENVILLE'S ELEVATION TO THE PEERAGE 176-181
1791.
THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CLAIMS--RESIGNATION OF THE DUKE OF LEEDS--FLIGHT
OF THE ROYAL FAMILY OF FRANCE--PROSPERITY OF ENGLAND
AT THIS PERIOD 182-198
1792.
MR. PITT'S BUDGET--THE STATE OF IRELAND--THE KING DISMISSES LORD
THURLOW--DISCONTENTS IN ENGLAND--FRENCH EMIGRANTS--RETREAT
OF THE DUKE OF BRUNSWICK--MEASURES OF INTERNAL DEFENCE--THE
FRENCH CONVENTION DECLARES WAR AGAINST ENGLAND AND HOLLAND 199-233
1793.
CAUSES AND OBJECTS OF THE WAR--SECESSIONS FROM THE OPPOSITION--REVERSES
IN HOLLAND--DISASTERS OF THE ALLIES--STATE OF FRANCE
AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 235-249
1794.
PREPARATIONS IN ENGLAND FOR THE PROSECUTION OF THE WAR--INACTIVITY
OF THE AUSTRIANS--LORD SPENCER AND MR. THOMAS GRENVILLE SENT ON
A MISSION TO VIENNA--HOSTILE RESOLUTIONS OF THE OPPOSITION--SEVERAL
OF THE LEADING WHIGS JOIN THE ADMINISTRATION--LORD CORNWALLIS
APPOINTED TO THE COMMAND ON THE CONTINENT--PROGRESS OF
THE NEGOTIATIONS--LORD FITZWILLIAM NOMINATED TO THE LORD-LIEUTENANCY
OF IRELAND--HIS CONDUCT ON THAT OCCASION 250-323
1795.
LORD FITZWILLIAM'S ADMINISTRATION IN IRELAND 324-338
1796.
THE PROSECUTION OF THE WAR SUSTAINED BY REPEATED MAJORITIES IN
PARLIAMENT--MR. BURKE'S SCHOOL FOR THE EDUCATION OF EMIGRANT
CHILDREN--BUONAPARTE APPOINTED TO THE COMMAND IN ITALY--LORD
MALMESBURY'S MISSION TO PARIS 339-360
1797.
DISCONTENTS IN ENGLAND--THE BREST SQUADRON--MOTION ON THE STATE
OF IRELAND--AFFAIRS OF THE CONTINENT--LORD MALMESBURY'S MISSION
TO LISLE 361-383
1798.
CONDITION OF ENGLAND--PLANS FOR THE NATIONAL DEFENCES--THE
AUGMENTATION OF THE MILITIA--VOLUNTARY SUBSCRIPTIONS--A REBELLION
BREAKS OUT IN IRELAND--LORD CORNWALLIS SUCCEEDS LORD
CAMDEN AS LORD-LIEUTENANT--LORD BUCKINGHAM VOLUNTEERS FOR
IRELAND--DIFFERENCES WITH LORD CORNWALLIS--MR. THOMAS GRENVILLE
IS APPOINTED ON A MISSION TO VIENNA AND BERLIN. 384-421
1799.
ENGLAND ENTERS INTO A TREATY WITH RUSSIA AGAINST FRANCE--MR.
THOMAS GRENVILLE'S MISSION TO THE CONTINENT--THE UNION BETWEEN
GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND--SUSPENSE RESPECTING THE FATE OF
MR. GRENVILLE--PROGRESS OF EVENTS ON THE CONTINENT--AUSTRIA
JOINS THE COALITION--VACILLATIONS AND INACTIVITY OF PRUSSIA--EXPEDITION
TO HOLLAND--FURTHER AUGMENTATION OF THE MILITIA--PROJECTS
FOR THE ENSUING YEAR 422-452
COURT AND CABINETS
OF
GEORGE III.
1788.
(CONTINUED.)
THE KING'S ILLNESS--CONDUCT OF THURLOW--PLANS OF MINISTERS--DISCUSSIONS
IN PARLIAMENT--IRISH VIEW OF THE REGENCY QUESTION--PROCEEDINGS OF THE
PRINCE'S PARTY--THE RATS IN BOTH HOUSES.
The fluctuations of the daily accounts from Windsor, and afterwards from
Kew, to which place the King was ultimately removed at the instance of
the Prince of Wales, and the effect they produced upon the public and
the Opposition, greatly increased the difficulties of the Government in
this unprecedented emergency. So long as there was the faintest hope of
His Majesty's recovery, Mr. Pitt was enabled to avert extremities
between the Administration and the Prince of Wales, by repeated
adjournments of Parliament. The interest, therefore, which attached to
the slightest items of intelligence contained in these letters may be
easily understood. All other subjects were of inferior consideration.
Even the serious inconvenience occasioned to the public service by the
suspension of business in Parliament was forgotten in the one absorbing
topic.
The uncertainty that hung over the issue, the responsibility that
attended the treatment of the case, and the extreme caution observed by
the physicians in the opinions they were called upon to pronounce, kept
all classes of the people in a state of constant agitation. The Prince
and his supporters availed themselves of these circumstances to
strengthen their party in Parliament and out of doors. The passions of
the inexperienced, and the hopes of the discontented, are always on the
side of youth and excitement; and every vicissitude in the condition of
the King that diminished the prospect of his recovery, augmented the
ranks of the Opposition, which now became familiarly known as "the
Prince of Wales's Opposition." Mr. Pitt acted throughout with the utmost
reserve. Deeply impressed by the complicated hazards of the situation,
he carefully avoided all allusions to his ulterior intentions in his
intercourse with the Prince of Wales, which was strictly formal and
official, and confined to such communications as were unavoidable in his
position.
MR. W. W. GRENVILLE TO THE MARQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM.
Whitehall, Nov. 15th, 1788.
MY DEAR BROTHER,
I enclose you the note, which I received from Pitt last night on
his return from Windsor. I have seen him this morning; and
understand that Warren said one thing which is still more
favourable. He told him that a more rapid amendment would, in his
opinion, have been a less pleasing symptom; and I find, from Pitt,
that on conversing both with Sir G. Baker and Reynolds, he found
them rather more sanguine, upon the whole, than Warren, but
agreeing with him in his general account. What I have learnt this
morning seems to confirm the pleasing hope which I cannot help
indulging, from all these circumstances, though, God knows, it is
still exposed to much doubt and hazard. The public account, which
has been uniformly less flattering than the private letters from
Windsor, states that he has had six hours' sleep, and that he is a
little better this morning. All the other accounts say that he is
certainly getting better.
Pitt saw the Prince of Wales yesterday, for the purpose of
notifying to him the step which the Council had taken, of ordering
prayers, and of acquainting him that he had written circular
letters to _all_ the Members of the House of Commons, stating the
probability of Parliament having to meet on Thursday; and that he
meant then to propose to adjourn.
Prince of Wales received the communication with civility, and told
him he was persuaded no opposition could be made to this. It is, I
think, plain, from Pitt's account of his general behaviour, and
from what one hears, that my conjecture is right, and that he will
dismiss Pitt without hesitation.
Ever most affectionately yours,
W. W. G.
MR. W. W. GRENVILLE TO THE MARQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM.
Whitehall, Nov. 17th, 1788.
MY DEAR BROTHER,
The accounts for the last two days have been, I think, rather less
favourable than that of Saturday, which I sent you. You can,
however, hardly conceive the difficulty which we have, even at this
small distance, to procure such information as can be in any degree
depended on. All the private accounts are so strongly tinctured by
the wishes of those who send them, that no reliance can be placed
upon them; and the private letters of the physicians are frequently
inconsistent with each other, and even with the public account
which they send to St. James's. In general, that account has been
uniformly found to be the least favourable; and seems as if it was
drawn for the purpose of discouraging the hopes which their own
letters and conversation excite. The letters which they read to
Pitt, though frequently varying in their general tenor from the
public account, are not at all more detailed than that is, and take
no sort of notice of the most material circumstances. I imagine all
this is to be imputed to a difference of opinion which is supposed
to prevail amongst them, it being believed that Warren is strongly
inclined to think the disorder permanent, and that Reynolds is
sanguine in the contrary opinion. Pitt is gone down again to
Windsor to-day; but will hardly be back again time enough for me to
insert his account in this letter. The public account of to-day
says, I understand, that the King has had much quiet and composed
sleep, but is nearly the same as before. The sleep, I am told, is
generally considered as a favourable symptom | 1,376.054387 |
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THE ALLIS FAMILY;
OR,
SCENES OF WESTERN LIFE
* * * * *
_Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858 by the
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania._
* * * * *
_No books are published by the_ AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION _without the
sanction of the Committee of Publication, consisting of fourteen members,
from the following denominations of Christians, viz.: Baptist, Methodist,
Congregational, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and, Reformed Dutch.
Not more than three of the members can be of the same denomination, and no
book can be published to which any member of the Committee shall object._
* * * * *
THE ALLIS FAMILY.
Mr. and Mrs. Allis lived away out West, on a broad prairie, where Mr. Allis
was busily engaged in "making a farm." Perhaps some of my young readers,
who have always been accustomed to see farms already "made," will not
understand what I mean by "_making_ a farm;" and I will try to tell them.
First of all, let them try to fancy a large meadow, either perfectly flat
or a little uneven, as large, perhaps, as can be measured with the eye, and
sometimes without a single tree, or scarcely a clump of bushes. There will
be no fences in sight, and sometimes no streams of water, but the surface
of the ground is covered with high, coarse grass. This is what Western
people call a "prairie."
In order to "make a farm," this ground must be ploughed, or, as Western
people say, "broken up." Some of the children would smile, I think, if they
were to see a regular "breaking team" before a "breaking plough." This
plough is quite unlike that which is used in the older States, and it takes
five, six, and sometimes as many as eight yoke of oxen to draw it. This
ploughing is usually done in June. After ploughing, the ground must be
enclosed, and then it is ready for the seed.
Some people make curious mistakes when they undertake to make a new farm.
Mr. Allis was one of these persons. He arrived at the little town of B----,
with his family, late in the fall, and immediately set about looking for a
location. Several miles from B---- he found a place that seemed to suit
him. The soil was rich, and apparently inexhaustible; but it was poorly
watered, and destitute of any timber suitable for building or fencing, and
there was very little which was fit for fuel. The great thing he thought of
was a large farm.
After a while he found out his mistake, but it was too late for him to help
it, for his money was nearly all expended for land. But Mr. Allis was a
resolute man, and he immediately set himself to work to do the best he
could. It was a long walk to the grove where he went every day to cut down
trees for his cabin, and to split rails for his fence, and a whole day's
work to go twice with his oxen to draw the logs and rails to his farm. But
he rose early, and was ready to begin his work with the dawn. On rainy and
stormy days, when he could not be out, he was at work in a shop near his
house, making doors and window-frames, and cupboards, and other things for
his new house.
Early in the spring the cabin was reared, and soon all was in readiness for
the removal of the family, which consisted of Mrs. Allis, Mary, a distant
relative whose home was with her, and two little twin-daughters, Annie and
Susie, who were about five years old at this time. These little girls loved
each other very much, and usually played very pleasantly together. But it
was sometimes the case that, like other children, they had their little
troubles, and were selfish, and of course unhappy.
One day Mrs. Allis was very sick, and she called the little girls to her,
and told them they might go up-stairs and play, but they must try to be
very good girls, and very quiet, for she could not bear the noise of their
voices. The little girls loved their mother very dearly, and were very
sorry that she was so sick. So they promised to be good children, and then
away they skipped up-stairs on tip-toe, that they might not disturb their
mother.
At first there was the patter of light feet and a subdued murmur of voices,
but after a while scarcely a sound could be heard. Thus passed two hours,
or more, and at last Mrs. Allis sent Mary to see what they were about. Mary
reported that they were playing very pleasantly together, and seemed very
happy.
"But what can they be doing, Mary?"
"Oh, they have a whole regiment of ragbabies, besides the kittens, for
scholars. Susie says they are playing school."
At last it was tea-time, and, when the girls had eaten their supper, their
mother called them to her.
"Oh, mother! mother! we have had such a nice time."
"Softly, softly, children," said Mr. Allis; "be careful, or you will make
your mother sick again."
"Are you better now, mother?" said little Susie, going softly towards her
bed.
"Yes, my dear child, I am much better, and you two little girls have helped
to make me so."
"We, mother?" said Susie, while her black eyes sparkled at the thought. "I
wonder how _we_ could make you better, when we have been all the while at
play up-stairs."
"I can guess how," said Annie. "Mother means we didn't make any noise:
don't you, mother?"
"Not just that, or rather a good deal more than that; but first tell me
_what_ you played up-stairs."
"Oh, it was so pleasant: wasn't it? Why, mother, don't you think, we played
school; and first I let Susie be teacher, and then she let me; and we
played I was a little girl come to school, and by-and-by, when we got tired
of that, we got out the dolls, Bessie and Jessie, and the pussy, and then
we made three more little girls out of our sun-bonnets and Susie's pink
apron, and then we both played teacher, like Miss Jackson and Miss Williams
in the academy where we used to live, you know."
"Oh, yes, mother," interrupted Susie; "and, don't you think, sometimes
Annie would pull pussy's tail and make her say 'Mew,' and we made believe
that one of the little girls cried to go to her mother."
"Yes," said Annie, "and after a while we made believe she was naughty, and
sent her home."
"Very well, my dear; I see you have had a very pleasant time,--much more
pleasant than if you had been cross and unkind to each other, or had made a
noise to disturb me. I see you have loved one another, and this is what has
made you so happy this afternoon. Tell me, now, which you had rather be,
teacher or scholar, when you play school."
"Oh! a teacher, a great deal, mother," said Annie.
"Then why did you not be teacher all the time, and let Susie be the
scholar?"
"That wouldn't be right. Susie likes to be teacher as well as I," replied
Annie, timidly.
"But don't you think you would have been happier to have been teacher all
the time, Annie?"
"I did want to be at first, but then I thought Susie would like it too;
and, after all, it was just as pleasant."
"I presume it was, my dear, and much more pleasant; no person can be happy
who is selfish. Do you know what it is to be selfish, my little Susie?"
"Yes, mother; you told Annie and I one day that it was selfish to want
every thing just to please ourselves."
"Do you love to run about the room, and laugh and play?"
"Oh, yes; you know we do, mother."
"Would you not rather have stayed down-stairs to play to-day?"
"Oh, yes," said Annie; "only----"
"Only what, my dear?"
"Annie means that you were sick, and didn't want us to make a noise; and,
really, we did try to play just as still as we possibly could."
"Why did you take so much pains to be quiet?"
"You told us to be still, didn't you, mother?"
"I did; but were you afraid I would punish you if you made a noise, Susie?"
"Oh, no, indeed; but we did not want to make you sick," said Susie,
clinging to her mother, and looking into her face with her loving eyes.
"Then you love your mother, do you, girls?"
"Indeed we do," said the children, in one breath.
"Well, supposing your mother had been well, and some poor sick woman, whom
you had | 1,376.054403 |
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Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF MADAME LA MARQUISE DE MONTESPAN
Written by Herself
Being the Historic Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV.
BOOK 3.
CHAPTER XXXV.
M. de Lauzun and Mademoiselle de Montpensier.--Marriage of the One and
Passion of the Other.--The King Settles a Match.--A Secret Union.--The
King Sends M. de Lauzun to Pignerol.--The Life He Leads
There.--Mademoiselle's Liberality.--Strange Way of Acknowledging It.
They are forever talking about the coquetry of women; men also have their
coquetry, but as they show less grace and finesse than we do, they do not
get half as much attention.
The Marquis de Lauzun, having one day, noticed a certain kindly feeling
for him in the glances of Mademoiselle, endeavoured to seem to her every
day more fascinating and agreeable. The foolish Princess completely fell
into the snare, and suddenly giving up her air of noble indifference,
which till then had made her life happy, she fell madly in love with a
schemer who despised and detested her.
Held back for some months by her pride, as also by the exigencies of
etiquette, she only disclosed her sentimental passion by glances and a
mutual exchange of signs of approval; but at last she was tired of
self-restraint and martyrdom, and, detaining M. de Lauzun one day in a
recess, she placed her written offer of marriage in his hand.
The cunning Marquis feigned astonishment, pretending humbly to renounce
such honour, while increasing his wiles and fascinations; he even went so
far as to shed tears, his most difficult feat of all.
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, older than he by twelve or fourteen years,
never suspected that such a disparity of years was visible in her face.
When one has been pretty, one imagines that one is still so, and will
forever remain so. Plastered up and powdered, consumed by passion, and
above all, blinded by vanity, she fancied that Nature had to obey
princes, and that, to favour her, Time would stay his flight.
Though tired and bored with everything, Lauzun, the better to excite her
passion, put on timid, languid airs, like those of some lad fresh from
school. Quitting the embraces of some other woman, he played the lonely,
pensive, melancholy bachelor, the man absorbed by this sweet, new mystery
of love.
Having made mutual avowal of their passion, which was fill of esteem,
Lauzun inquired, merely from motives of caution, as to the Princess's
fortune; and she did not fail to tell him everything, even about her
plate and jewels. Lauzun's love grew even more ardent now, for she had
at least forty millions, not counting her palace.
He asked if, by the marriage, he would become a prince, and she replied
that she, herself, had not sufficient power to do this; that she was most
anxious to arrange this, if she could; but anyhow, that she could make
him Duc de Montpensier, with a private uncontrolled income of five
hundred thousand livres.
He asked if, on the family coat-of-arms, the husband's coronet was to
figure, or the wife's; but, as she would not change her name, her arms,
she decided, could remain as heretofore,--the crown, the fleur-de-lis,
and so forth.
He inquired if the children of the marriage would rank as princes, and
she said that she saw nothing to prevent this. He also asked if he would
be raised higher in the peerage, and might look to being made a prince at
last, and styled Highness as soon as the contract had been signed.
This caused some doubt and reflection. "The King, my cousin," said
Mademoiselle, "is somewhat strict in matters of this sort. He seems to
think that the royal family is a new arch-saint, at whom one may look
only when prostrate in adoration; all contract therewith is absolutely
forbidden. I begin to feel uneasy | 1,376.257697 |
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LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL
THIRD BOOK OF THE
FAITH-PROMOTING SERIES
By President W. Woodruff
_DESIGNED FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENCOURAGEMENT OF YOUNG LATTER-DAY
SAINTS_
SECOND EDITION.
JUVENILE INSTRUCTOR OFFICE,
Salt Lake City, Utah.
1882.
PREFACE
About nine months have elapsed since the first edition of this work
was published, and now the whole number issued--over 4,000 copies--are
exhausted, and there is a demand for more.
We, therefore, have much pleasure in offering the Second Edition of
LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL for public consideration, and trust that the
young people who pursue it will be inspired to emulate in their lives
the faith, perseverance and integrity that so distinguish its author.
Brother Woodruff is a remarkable man. Few men now living, who have
followed the quiet and peaceful pursuits of life, have had such an
interesting and eventful experience as he has. Few, if any in this
age, have spent a more active and useful life. Certainly no man living
has been more particular about recording with his own hand, in a daily
journal, during half a century, the events of his own career and the
things that have come under his observation. His elaborate journal has
always been one of the principal sources from which the Church history
has been compiled.
Possessed of wonderful energy and determination, and mighty faith,
Brother Woodruff has labored long and with great success in the Church.
He has ever had a definite object in view--to know the will of the
Almighty and to do it. No amount of self-denial has been too great for
him to cheerfully endure for the advancement of the cause of God. No
labor required of the Saints has been considered by him too onerous to
engage in with his own hands.
Satan, knowing the power for good that Brother Woodruff would be, if
permitted to live, has often sought to effect his destruction.
The adventures, accidents and hair-breath escapes that he has met with,
are scarcely equalled by the record that the former apostle, Paul, has
left us of his life.
The power of God has been manifested in a most remarkable manner in
preserving Brother Woodruff's life. Considering the number of bones
he has had broken, and the other bodily injuries he has received, it
is certainly wonderful that now, at the age of seventy-five years, he
is such a sound, well-preserved man. God grant that his health and
usefulness may continue for many years to come.
Of course, this volume contains but a small portion of the interesting
experience of Brother Woodruff's life, but very many profitable lessons
may be learned from it, and we trust at some future time to be favored
with other sketches from his pen.
THE PUBLISHER
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Strictness of the "Blue Laws" of Connecticut--The Old Prophet
Mason--His Vision--His Prophecy--Hear the Gospel, and Embrace it--Visit
Kirtland, and see Joseph Smith--A Work for the Old Prophet.
CHAPTER II.
Preparing to go up to Zion--First Meeting with President Young-Camp of
Zion Starts--Numbers Magnified in the Eyes of Beholders--Remarkable
Deliverance-Selfishness, and its Reward.
CHAPTER III.
Advised to Remain in Missouri--A Desire to Preach--Pray to the Lord for
a Mission--Prayer Answered--Sent on a Mission to Arkansas--Dangerous
Journey through Jackson County--Living on Raw Corn, and Sleeping on the
Ground--My First Sermon--Refused Food and Shelter by a Presbyterian
Preacher--Wander through Swamps--Entertained by Indians.
CHAPTER IV.
A Journey of Sixty Miles without Food--Confronted by a Bear--Pass by
Unharmed--Surrounded by Wolves--Lost in Darkness--Reach a Cabin--Its
Inmates--No Supper--Sleep on the Floor--The Hardest Day's Work of my
Life--Twelve Miles more without Breakfast--Breakfast and Abuse Together.
CHAPTER V.
Our Anxiety to Meet a Saint--Journey to Akeman's--A Dream--Find Mr.
Akeman a Rank Apostate--He Raises a Mob--Threatened with Tar, Feathers,
etc.--I Warn Mr. Akeman to Repent--He Falls Down Dead at my Feet--I
Preach his Funeral Sermon.
CHAPTER VI.
Make a Canoe--Voyage down the Arkansas River--Sleep in a Deserted
Tavern--One Hundred and Seventy Miles through Swamps--Forty Miles a
Day in Mud Knee-deep--A Sudden Lameness--Left alone in an Alligator
Swamp--Healed, in Answer to Prayer--Arrival an Memphis--An Odd-looking
Preacher--Compelled to Preach--Powerful Aid from the Spirit--Not what
the Audience Expected.
CHAPTER VII.
Curious Worship--Meet Elder Parrish--Labor Together in
Tenessee--Adventure in Bloody River--A Night of Peril--Providential
Light--Menaced by a Mob--Good Advice of a Baptist Preacher--Summary of
my Labors during the Year.
CHAPTER VIII.
Studying Grammar--Meet Elder Patten--Glorious News--Labor with A. O.
Smoot--Turned out of a Meeting House by a Baptist Preacher--Preach in
the Open Air--Good Result--Adventure on the Tennesse River--A Novel
Charge to Arrest and Condemn Men upon--Mob Poison Our Horses.
CHAPTER IX.
Attending School--Marriage--Impressed to take a Mission to Fox
Islands--Advised to go--Journey to Canada--Cases of Healing--Journey
to Connecticut--My Birthplace--My Mother's Grave--Baptize some
Relatives--Joined by my Wife--Journey on Foot to Maine--Arrival at Fox
Island.
CHAPTER X.
Description of Vinal Haven--Population and Pursuit of the People--Great
Variety of Fish--The Introduction of the Gospel.
CHAPTER XI.
Mr. Newton, the Baptist Preacher, Wrestling with out Testimony--Rejects
it, and Begins to Oppose--Sends for a Methodist Minister to Help
Him--Mr. Douglass' Speech--Our Great Success on the North Island--Go
to the South Island, and baptise Mr. Douglass' Flock--Great Number of
Islands--Boiled Clams--Day of Prayer--Codfish Flakes.
CHAPTER XII.
Return to Mainland--Parting with Brother Hale--My Second Visit to
the Islands--Visit to the Isle of Holt--A Sign Demanded by Mr.
Douglass--A Prediction about him--It's Subsequent Fulfillment--Spirit
of Opposition--Firing of Cannons and Guns to Disturb my Meeting.
CHAPTER XIII.
Meeting with James Townsend--Decide to go to Bangor--Long Journey
through Deep Snow--Curious Phenomenon--Refused Lodging at Eight
Houses--Entertained by Mr. Teppley--Curious Coincidence--Mr Teppley's
Despondence--Arrival at Bangor--Return to the Islands--Adventure with
the Tide.
CHAPTER XIV.
Counseled to Gather with the Saints--Remarkable Manifestation--Case of
Healing--Efforts of Apostates--Visit from Elders--A Conference--Closing
my Labors on the Islands for a Season.
CHAPTER XV.
Return to Scarboro--Journey South--Visit to A. P. Rockwood in
Prison--Incidents of Prison Life--Journey to Connecticut--Baptize my
Father's Household.
CHAPTER XVI.
Taking Leave of my Old Home--Return to Maine--Birth of my
First Child--Appointment to the Apostleship and to a Foreign
Mission--Preparations for the Journey to Zion.
CHAPTER XVII.
Start upon out Journey. A Hazardous Undertaking--Sickness--Severe
Weather--My wife and Child Stricken--A Trying Experience--My Wife
Continues to Fail--Her Spirit Leaves her Body--Restored by the Power of
God--Her Spirit's Experience while Separated from the Body--Death of my
Brother--Arrival at Rochester--Removal to Quincy.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Peculiar Revelation--Determination of Enemies to Prevent its
Fulfillment--Start to Far West to Fulfill Revelation--Our Arrival
There--Hold a Council--Fulfill the Revelation--Corner Stone of the
Temple Laid--Ordained to the Apostleship--Leave Far West--Meet the
Prophet Joseph--Conference Held--Settle Our Families in Nauvoo.
CHAPTER XIX.
A Day of God's Power with the Prophet Joseph Smith--A Great Number of
Sick Persons Healed--The Mob becomes Alarmed--They try to Interfere
with the Healing of the Sick--The Mob Sent Out of the House--Twin
Children Healed.
CHAPTER XX.
Preparing for our Journey and Mission--The Blessing of the Prophet
Joseph upon our Heads, and his Promises unto us--The Power of the Devil
manifested to Hinder us in the Performance of our Journey.
CHAPTER XXI.
Leaving my Family--Start Upon my Mission--Our Condition--Elder Taylor
the only One not Sick--Reproof from the Prophet--Incidents upon the
Journey--Elder Taylor Stricken--I Leave him Sick.
CHAPTER XXII.
Continue my Journey--Leave Elder Taylor in Germantown--Arrival in
Cleveland--Take Steamer from There to Buffalo--Delayed by a Storm--Go
to Farmington, my Father's Home--Death of my Grandmother--My Uncle
Dies--I Preach his Funeral Sermon--Arrive in New York--Sail for
Liverpool--Encounter Storms and Rough Weather--Arrive in Liverpool.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Our visit to Preston--Our First Council in England, in 1840--We Take
Different Fields of Labor--A Women Possessed of the Devil--Attempt to
Cast it Out and Fail--Turn Out the Unbelievers, and then Succeed--The
Evil Spirit Enters her Child--Commence Baptizing--The Lord Makes Known
His Will to me.
CHAPTER XXIV.
My Journey to Herefordshire--Interview with John Benbow--The Word of
the Lord Fulfilled to me--The Greatest Gathering into the Church Known
among the Gentiles since its organisation in this Dispensation--A
Constable Sent to Arrest me--I Convert and Baptize Him--Two Clerks Sent
as Detectives to Hear me Preach, and both Embrace the Truth--Rectors
Petition to have out Preaching Prohibited--The Archbishop's Reply--Book
of Mormon and Hymn Book Printed--Case of healing.
CHAPTER XXV.
Closing Testimony--Good and Evil Spirits.
CHAPTER XXVI.
How to Obtain Revelation from God--Joseph Smith's Course--Saved
from Death by a falling Tree, by Obeying the Voice of the Spirit--A
Company of Saints Saved from a Steam-boat Disaster by the Spirit's
Warning--Plot to Waylay Elder C. C. Rich and Party Foiled by the same
Power.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Result of not Obeying the Voice of the Spirit--Lost in a
Snowstorm--Saved, in answer to Prayer--Revelation to Missionaries
Necessary--Revelation in the St. George Temple.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Patriarchal Blessings and their Fulfillment--Predictions in my own
Blessing--Gold-dust from California--Taught by an Angel--Struggle with
Evil Spirits--Administered to by Angels--What Angels are sent to the
Earth for.
LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL
CHAPTER I.
STRICTNESS OF THE "BLUE LAWS" OF CONNECTICUT--THE OLD PROPHET,
MASON--HIS VISION--HIS PROPHECY--HEAR THE GOSPEL, AND EMBRACE IT--VISIT
KIRTLAND AND SEE JOSEPH SMITH--A WORK FOR THE OLD PROPHET.
For the benefit of the young Latter-day Saints, for whom the
Faith-Promoting Series is especially designed, I will relate some
incidents from my experience. I will commence by giving a short account
of some events of my childhood and youth.
I spent the first years of my life under the influence of what history
has called the "Blue Laws" of Connecticut.
No man, boy, or child of any age was permitted to play, or do any work
from sunset Saturday night, until Sunday night. After sunset on Sunday
evening, men might work, and boys might jump, shout, and play as much
as they pleased.
Our parents were very strict with us on Saturday night, and all day
Sunday we had to sit very still and say over the Presbyterian catechism
and some passages in the Bible.
The people of Connecticut in those days thought it wicked to believe
in any religion, or belong to any church, except the Presbyterian.
They did not believe in having any prophets, apostles, or revelations,
as they had in the days of Jesus, and as we now have in the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
There was an aged man in Connecticut, however, by the name of Robert
Mason, who did not believe like the rest of the people. He believed
it was necessary to have prophets, apostles, dreams, visions and
revelations in the church of Christ, the same as they had who lived in
ancient days; and he believed the Lord would raise up a people and a
church, in the last days, with prophets, apostles and all the gifts,
powers and blessings, which it ever contained in any age of the world.
The people called this man, the old prophet Mason.
He frequently came to my father's house when I was a boy, and taught me
and my brothers those principles; and I believed him.
This prophet prayed a great deal, and he had dreams and visions, and
the Lord showed him many things, by visions, which were to come to pass
in the last days.
I will here relate one vision, which he related to me. The last time I
ever saw him, he said: "I was laboring in my field at mid-day when I
was enwrapped in a vision. I was placed in the midst of a vast forest
of fruit trees: I was very hungry, and walked a long way through the
orchard, searching for fruit to eat; but I could not find any in the
whole orchard, and I wept because I could find no fruit. While I stood
gazing at the orchard, and wondering why there was no fruit, the trees
began to fall to the ground upon every side of me, until there was not
one tree standing in the whole orchard; and while I was marveling at
the scene, I saw young sprouts start up from the roots of the trees
which had fallen, and they opened into young, thrifty trees before
my eyes. They budded, blossomed, and bore fruit until the trees were
loaded with the finest fruit I ever beheld, and I rejoiced to see so
much fine fruit. I stepped up to a tree and picked my hands full of
fruit, and marveled at its beauty, and as I was about to taste of it
the vision closed, and I found myself in the field in the same place I
was at the commencement of the vision.
"I then knelt upon the ground, and prayed unto the Lord, and asked Him,
in the name of Jesus Christ, to show me the meaning of the vision.
The Lord said unto me: 'This is the interpretation of the vision: the
great trees of the forest represented the generation of men in which
you live. There is no church of Christ, or kingdom of God upon the
earth in your generation. There is no fruit of the church of Christ
upon the earth. There is no man ordained of God to administer in any of
the ordinances of the gospel of salvation upon the earth in this day
and generation. But, in the next generation, I the Lord will set up my
kingdom and my church upon the earth, and the fruits of the kingdom
and church of Christ, such as have followed the prophets, apostles
and saints in every dispensation, shall again be found in all their
fullness upon the earth. You will live to see the day, and handle the
fruit; but will never partake of it in the flesh.'"
When the old prophet had finished relating the vision and
interpretation, he said to me, calling me by my christian name: "I
shall never partake of this fruit in the flesh; but you will, and you
will become a conspicuous actor in that kingdom." He then turned and
left me. These were the last words he ever spoke to me upon the earth.
This was a very striking circumstance, as I had spent many hours and
days, during twenty years, with this old Father Mason, and he had never
named this vision to me before. But at the beginning of this last
conversation, he told me that he felt impelled by the Spirit of the
Lord to relate it to me.
He had the vision about the year 1800, and he related it to me in
1830--the same spring that the Church was organized.
This vision, with his other teachings to me, made a great impression
upon my mind, and I prayed a great deal to the Lord to lead me by His
Spirit, and prepare me for His church when it did come.
In 1832, I left Connecticut, and traveled with my eldest brother to
Oswego County, New York; and in the winter of 1833, I saw, for the
first time in my life, an Elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints. He preached in a school-house near where I lived. I
attended the meeting, and the Spirit of the Lord bore record to me that
what I heard was true. I invited the Elder to my house, and next day I,
with my eldest brother, went down into the water and was baptized. We
were the first two baptized in Oswego County, New York.
When I was baptized I thought of what the old prophet had said to me.
In the spring of 1834, I went to Kirtland, saw the Prophet Joseph
Smith, and went with him, and with more than two hundred others in
Zion's Camp, up to Missouri. When I arrived, at my journey's end, I
took the first opportunity and wrote a long letter to Father Mason, and
told him I had found the church of Christ that he had told me about.
I told him about its organization and the coming forth of the Book of
Mormon; that the Church had Prophets, Apostles, and all the gifts and
blessings in it, and that the true fruit of the kingdom and church of
Christ were manifest among the Saints as the Lord had shown him in the
vision. He received my letter and read it over many times, and handled
it as he had handled the fruit in the vision; but he was very aged,
and soon died. He did not live to see any Elder to administer the
ordinances of the gospel unto him.
The first opportunity I had, after the doctrine of baptism for the dead
was revealed, I went forth and was baptized for him. He was a good man
and a true prophet, for his prophecies have been fulfilled.
CHAPTER II.
PREPARING TO GO UP TO ZION--FIRST MEETING WITH PRESIDENT YOUNG--CAMP
OF ZION STARTS--NUMBERS MAGNIFIED IN THE EYES OF BEHOLDERS--REMARKABLE
DELIVERANCE--SELFISHNESS, AND ITS REWARD.
I arrived at Kirtland on the 25th of April, 1834, and for the first
time saw the Prophet Joseph Smith. He invited me to his house. I spent
about a week with him, and became acquainted with him and his family,
also with many of the Elders and Saints living in Kirtland, quite a
number of whom were preparing to go up to Zion.
On Sunday, the 27th of April, I attended a meeting in a school-house
in Kirtland, and for the first time heard Elders Sidney Rigdon, Orson
Hyde, Orson Pratt and others speak and bear testimony to the work of
God, and much of the Spirit of God was poured out upon the Saints.
It was the 26th of April, 1834, that I was first introduced to Elders
Brigham Young and H. C. Kimball. When I met Brother Brigham, he had his
hands full of butcher knives; he gave me one, and told me to go and
put a good handle on it, which I did. I also had a good sword, which
Brother Joseph wanted, and I gave it to him. He carried it all the way
in Zion's camp to Missouri, and when he returned home he gave it back
to me.
When I was called to go on a mission to the South I left the sword and
knife with Lyman Wight. When he was taken prisoner at Far West, with
Joseph and Hyrum, he had both the sword and the knife with him. All
their weapons were taken from them, so were the arms of many of the
Saints at Far West, under promise that they should be returned to them
when they were prepared to leave the State. When the brethren went to
get their arms, Father James Allred saw my sword, which Lyman Wight had
laid down, and took it and left his own, and afterwards gave it to me
and I still have it. I prize it because the Prophet Joseph carried it
in Zion's Camp. The knife I never regained.
The first day of May, 1834, was appointed for the Camp of Zion to
start from Kirtland to go up to Missouri for the redemption of their
brethren. Only a small portion of the Camp was ready. The Prophet told
those who were ready, to go to New Portage and wait for the remainder.
I left, in company with about twenty men, with the baggage wagons. At
night we pitched our tents. I went to the top of the hill and looked
down upon the camp of Israel. I knelt upon the ground and prayed. I
rejoiced and praised the Lord that I had lived to see some of the tents
of Israel pitched, and a company gathered by the commandment of God to
go up and help redeem Zion.
We tarried at New Portage until the 6th, when we were joined by the
Prophet and eighty-five more men. The day before they arrived, while
passing through the village of Middlebury, the people tried to count
them; but the Lord multiplied them in the eyes of the people, so that
those who numbered them said there were four hundred of them.
On the 7th, Brother Joseph organized the camp, which consisted of
about one hundred and thirty men. On the following day we continued
our journey. We pitched our tents at night and had prayers night and
morning. The Prophet told us every day what we should do.
We were nearly all young men, gathered from all parts of the country,
and strangers to each other; but we got acquainted very soon, and had a
happy time together.
It was a great school for us to be led by a Prophet of God a thousand
miles, through cities, towns, villages, and through the wilderness.
When persons stood by to count us they could not tell how many we
numbered; some said five hundred, others one thousand.
Many were astonished as we passed through their towns. One lady ran
to her door, pushed her spectacles to the top of her head, raised her
hands, and exclaimed: "What under heavens has broken loose?" She stood
in that position the last I saw of her.
The published history of Zion's Camp gives an account of the bones of
a man which we dug out of a mound. His name was Zelph. The Lord showed
the Prophet the history of the man in a vision. The arrow, by which
he was killed, was found among his bones. One of his thigh bones was
broken by a stone slung in battle. The bone was put into my wagon, and
I carried it to Clay County, Missouri, and buried it in the earth.
The Lord delivered Israel in the days of Moses by dividing the Red Sea,
so they went over dry shod. When their enemies tried to do the same,
the water closed upon them and they were drowned. The Lord delivered
Zion's Camp from their enemies on the 19th of June, 1834, by piling up
the waters in Fishing River forty feet in one night, so our enemies
could not cross. He also sent a great hail-storm which broke them up
and sent them seeking for shelter.
The camp of Zion arrived at Brother Burk's, in Clay County, Missouri,
on the 24th of June, 1834, and we pitched our tents on the premises. He
told some of the brethren of my company that he had a spare room that
some of us might occupy if we would clean it. Our company accepted the
offer, and, fearing some other company would get it first, left all
other business and went to work, cleaning out the room, and immediately
spread down our blankets, so as to hold a right to the room. It was
but a short time afterwards that our brethren, who were attacked by
cholera, were brought in and laid upon our beds. None of us ever used
those blankets again, for they were buried with the dead. So we gained
nothing but experience by being selfish, and we lost our bedding.
I will exhort all my young friends to not cherish selfishness; but
if you have any, get rid of it as soon as possible. Be generous and
noble-hearted, kind to your parents, brothers, sisters and play-mates.
Never contend with them; but try to make peace whenever you can.
Whenever you are blessed with any good thing, be willing to share it
with others. By cultivating these principles while you are young, you
will lay a foundation to do much good through your lives, and you will
be beloved and respected of the Lord and all good men.
CHAPTER III.
ADVISED TO REMAIN IN MISSOURI--A DESIRE TO PREACH--PRAY TO THE LORD FOR
A MISSION--PRAYER ANSWERED--SENT ON A MISSION TO ARKANSAS--DANGEROUS
JOURNEY THROUGH JACKSON COUNTY--LIVING ON RAW CORN, AND SLEEPING ON THE
GROUND--MY FIRST SERMON--REFUSED FOOD AND SHELTER BY A PRESBYTERIAN
PREACHER--WANDER THROUGH SWAMPS--ENTERTAINED BY INDIANS.
After Joseph, the Prophet, had led Zion's Camp to Missouri, and we had
passed through all the trials of that journey, and had buried a number
of our brethren, as recorded in history, the Prophet called the Camp
together, and organized the Church in Zion, and gave much good counsel
to all.
He advised all the young men, who had no families, to stay in Missouri
and not return to Kirtland. Not having any family, I stopped with
Lyman Wight, as did Milton Holmes and Heman Hyde. We spent the summer
together, laboring hard, cutting wheat, quarrying rock, making brick,
or anything else we could find to do.
In the fall I had a desire to go and preach the gospel. I knew the
gospel which the Lord had revealed to Joseph Smith was true, and of
such great value that I wanted to tell it to the people who had not
heard it. It was so good and plain, it seemed to me I could make the
people believe it.
I was but a Teacher, and it is not a Teacher's office to go abroad and
preach. I dared not tell any of the authorities of the Church that I
wanted to preach, lest they might think I was seeking for an office.
I went into the woods where no one could see me, and I prayed to the
Lord to open my way so that I could go and preach the gospel. While I
was praying, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me, and told me my prayer
was heard and that my request should be granted.
I felt very happy, and got up and walked out of the woods into the
traveled road, and there I met a High Priest who had lived in the same
house with me some six months.
He had not said a word to me about preaching the gospel; but now, as
soon as I met him, he said, "The Lord has revealed to me that it is
your privilege to be ordained, and to go and preach the gospel."
I told him I was willing to do whatever the Lord required of me. I did
not tell him I had just asked the Lord to let me go and preach.
In a few days a council was called at Lyman Wight's, and I was ordained
a Priest and sent on a mission into Arkansas and Tennessee, in company
with an Elder. This mission was given us by Elder Edward Partridge, who
was the first Bishop ordained in the Church.
The law of God to us in those days was to go without purse or scrip.
Our journey lay through Jackson County, from which the Saints had just
been driven, and it was dangerous for a "Mormon" to be found in that
part of the State.
We put some Books of Mormon and some clothing into our valises,
strapped them on our backs, and started on foot. We crossed the ferry
into Jackson County, and went through it.
In some instances the Lord preserved us, as it were by miracle, from
the mob.
We dared not go to houses and get food, so we picked and ate raw corn,
and slept on the ground, and did any way we could until we got out of
the county.
We dared not preach while in that county, and we did but little
preaching in the State of Missouri. The first time I attempted to
preach was on Sunday, in a tavern, in the early part of December, 1834.
It was snowing at the time, and the room was full of people. As I
commenced to speak the landlord opened the door, and the snow blew on
the people; and when I inquired the object of having the door opened in
a snowstorm, he informed me that he wanted some light on the subject. I
found that it was the custom of the country.
How much good I did in that sermon I never knew, and probably never
shall know until I meet that congregation in judgment.
In the southern portion of Missouri and the northern part of Arkansas,
in 1834, there were but very few inhabitants.
We visited a place called Harmony Mission, on the Osage river, one
of the most crooked rivers in the west. This mission was kept by a
Presbyterian minister and his family.
We arrived there on Sunday night at sunset. We had walked all day with
nothing to eat, and were very hungry and tired. Neither the minister
nor his wife would give us anything to eat, nor let us stay over night,
because we were "Mormons," and the only chance we had was to go twelve
miles farther down the river, to an Osage Indian trading post, kept by
a Frenchman named Jereu. And this wicked priest, who would not give us
a piece of bread, lied to us about the road, and sent us across the
swamp, and we wallowed knee deep in mud and water till ten o'clock at
night in trying to follow this crooked river. We then left the swamp,
and put out into the prairie, to lie in the grass for the night.
When we came out of the swamp, we heard an Indian drumming on a tin
pail and singing. It was very dark, but we traveled towards the noise,
and when we drew near the Indian camp quite a number of large Indian
dogs came out to meet us. They smelt us, but did not bark nor bite.
We were soon surrounded by Osage Indians, and kindly received by Mr.
Jereu and his wife, who was an Indian. She gave us an excellent supper
and a good bed, which we were thankful for after the fatigue of the day.
As I laid my head on the pillow I felt to thank God, from the bottom of
my heart, for the exchange of the barbarous treatment of a civilized
Presbyterian priest, for the humane, kind and generous treatment of the
savage Osage Indians.
May God reward them both according to their deserts.
CHAPTER IV.
A JOURNEY OF SIXTY MILES WITHOUT FOOD--CONFRONTED BY A BEAR--PASS BY
UNHARMED--SURROUNDED BY WOLVES--LOST IN DARKNESS--REACH A CABIN--ITS
INMATES--NO SUPPER--SLEEP ON THE FLOOR--THE HARDEST DAY'S WORK OF MY
LIFE--TWELVE MILES MORE WITHOUT BREAKFAST--BREAKFAST AND ABUSE TOGETHER.
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