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Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Sue Fleming 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.)
THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
A Novel.
BY
MRS. MOODIE,
AUTHOR OF "ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH."
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1868.
LONDON:
Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street.
THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
CHAPTER I.
THE MARTINS.
The cottage, in which the Martins resided, was a quaint-looking
white-washed tenement, which opened into the burying-ground of the
small Gothic church, within whose walls the prayers of many generations
had been offered up. It stood in an isolated position, on the other side
of the heath, and was approached by the same deep sandy lane, which ran
in front of the farm, and round the base of the hill, commanding a fine
view of the sea.
A few old elms skirted the moss-covered stone-wall that surrounded the
churchyard, adding much picturesque beauty to the lonely spot, casting
their fantastic shadows in sunlight and moonlight upon the long rows of
nameless graves that clustered beneath them. These grassy tenements, so
green and quiet, looked the abodes of perfect peace, a fitting resting
place, after the turmoil of this sorrowful life, to the "rude
forefathers" of the little hamlet, which consisted of a few thatched mud
cottages, that clustered round the church, and formed a straggling
street,--the public-house in the centre, a building of more recent date,
being the most conspicuous dwelling in the place.
This was the evening resort of all the idlers in the neighbourhood; and
standing near the coast, and only two miles distant from a large
sea-port town, was much frequented by sailors and smugglers, who
resorted thither to drink and gamble, and hear Jonathan Sly, the
proprietor, read the weekly paper, and all the news of the war.
Dorothy, in her walks to and from the parsonage, generally avoided the
public thoroughfare, and turned off through a pathway field, which led
to the back of the house, having several times encountered a gang of
half-drunken sailors, and been terrified by their rude gaze, and still
more unwelcome expressions of admiration.
Dearly Dorothy loved the old church, in which she had listened with
reverence, from a child, to the word of God.
Her mother had found her last resting-place beneath the sombre shadow
of an old yew tree, that fronted the chancel window.
No sunbeam ever penetrated the dark, closely interwoven branches. No
violet opened its blue eyes amid the long grass and nettles that crowned
that nameless heap of "gathered dust."
Dorothy had often cleared away the weeds, and planted flowers upon the
spot. They drank in the poisonous exhalations of the melancholy tree,
and withered and died.
She tried rose bushes, but those flowers of love and light shared the
same fate. The dank prophetic-looking yew frowned them into death.
Dorothy regarded all these failures with a superstitious awe, and
glanced at that lonely grave, from a distance, with baited breath, and a
strange chill at her heart.
That giant tree, the child of past centuries, that stood watching over
it like a grim sentinel, seemed to her simple mind like an embodiment of
evil. It had no grace, no beauty in her eyes; she had even
sacrilegiously wished it levelled to the earth. It kept the sun from
shining on her mother's grave; the robin and linnet never warbled their
sweet hymns from among its heavy foliage. It had been planted by some
one in the very despair of grief, and the ghost of sorrow hovered under
its gloomy canopy.
In spite of this morbid feeling, a strange sympathy with the unknown
parent often drew Dorothy to the spot. A visit to the churchyard had
been a favourite evening ramble with her and her lover, and, when tired
of their seat on the low stone wall, they wandered hand in hand down to
the sea-shore, to watch the passing sails, and to bathe their feet in
the glad blue waters. Even in the churchyard, love, not divinity, formed
the theme of their conversation; the presence of the dead failing to
repress the hopes and joys of their young gushing life.
In her walks to the parsonage, Dorothy felt a pensive delight in
recalling every circumstance that had happened in these summer evening
walks with Gilbert Rushmere. They were of little moment at the time,
scarcely regarded; but absence had invested them with a twofold
interest.
First love stamps upon the memory of youth its undying image; and from
trifles light as the thistle's down can erect for itself a monument
more durable than granite.
What a halo of beauty it casts over the scenes in which its first sight
was breathed, its first vows fondly whispered, making the desert and
solitary places to blossom as the rose.
Even those bleak salt marshes bordering the sea, over which the sea-gull
flapped her heavy grey wings, and which resounded to the pewitt's
melancholy monotonous cry, possessed a charm for Dorothy.
From those marshes Gilbert and Dorothy drove up the cows to be milked.
On the banks of that sluggish river that lay like a dead thing between
its slimy mud banks until filled by the tide, in which few persons could
discover anything to interest the imagination, the twain, when boy and
girl, used to fish for crabs with a small hooped net, after the tide had
retired.
Those were happy times, full of sport and glee. How they used to laugh
and clap their hands, when the ugly spider-like creatures tumbled into
the trap, and fought and quarrelled over the bait that had lured them to
destruction.
The old haunts, the well-remembered objects, however repulsive to the
eye of taste, were dear to Dorothy; they brought her lover nearer, and
she forgot the long stretch of sea and land that divided them.
She never imagined that absence and the entire change that had taken
place in his mode of life could make any alteration in his views and
feelings with regard to herself; that it was possible that days and even
months could elapse without his casting one thought on her.
Fortunately for Dorothy, she had so much to employ her hands during the
day, in order to get leisure to study in the evening, that it was only
during these solitary walks that she could live in the past and build
castles for the future. Mr. Martin, the good curate, had welcomed his
wife's young pupil with parental kindness, and soon felt a deep interest
in her.
He was a slight feeble looking man, with a large head and still larger
heart. No sour gloomy fanatic, hiding disappointed ambition under the
mask of religion: but a cheerful, earnest Christian practically
illustrating his glorious faith, by making it the rule of life, both in
public and private.
His religious impressions had been formed at a very early period by a
pious parent, and he was an only child. Early deprived of a father's
care, the good providence of God had watched over the widow and her son,
uniting them by that most holy of all ties, the love of Jesus.
Before his mother was removed by death, she had the joy of beholding
Henry actively employed in the Divine Master's service; and she expired
in his arms, earnestly requesting him to hold fast his faith, and to
meet her in heaven.
He had promised, with God's help, to do this, and had struggled manfully
with overwhelming difficulties to obey that solemn injunction.
He had married in early manhood a woman he loved, without any reference
to worldly prudence; and though much physical suffering had resulted
from being poorly paid, and having to support a rapidly increasing
family on very inadequate means, Henry Martin was never heard to repine.
He was poor, but really a happy man. The cruse of oil and barrel of
meal, though often nearly exhausted, had still been supplied; and the
children, though meanly clad, and nourished on the most homely fare,
were healthy, loving and full of promise.
The good curate declared with a full and grateful heart, that his cup
overflowed with undeserved blessings. He lived within his humble means
and was satisfied. But sickness came, and took from him a noble dutiful
boy, the very pride of his eyes and the delight of his heart; and
doctors' bills and funeral expenses had curtailed their means; and the
morning that Mrs. Martin paid her visit to the Hall was the first that
had ever seen the worthy man and his family reduced to plain bread.
When Mrs. Martin communicated the unpleasant fact, he received it with
his usual trust in the providence of God. "We shall not be deserted,
Rosina; the Heavenly Father will give us daily bread. Have faith in
God."
With a heavy heart, the poor wife had set off on her visit to the Hall,
determined to ask the assistance of Lord Wilton in behalf of her
husband. In this she was prevented, by the munificence of the noble
gentleman. On her return, she flung herself upon the breast of her more
trusting partner, and communicated the happy intelligence; weeping in
the very joy of her heart, while she informed him of the better
prospects in store for them.
"Restrain these transports, my dear Rosina," he said, as he folded the
poor weeper to his kind heart, "or bring them as a thank offering to the
good God, who has so miraculously saved us from want. Let us kneel down
together, and while we return our sincere thanks for his great mercy,
let us beseech him to keep us humble in prosperity, lest this reverse of
fortune should render us proud and forgetful of our duty."
Dorothy soon found herself quite at home with the good pastor and his
amiable family. Dearly she loved the little ones. Her solitary life | 1,425.184324 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.1644520 | 671 | 6 |
Produced by MWS, Stephen Hutcheson, Carol Spears, 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.)
SYLVIE AND BRUNO
CONCLUDED
BY
LEWIS CARROLL
_WITH FORTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
HARRY FURNISS_
_New York_
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND LONDON
1894
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved_
Dreams, that elude the Waker’s frenzied grasp—
Hands, stark and still, on a dead Mother’s breast,
Which nevermore shall render clasp for clasp,
Or deftly soothe a weeping Child to rest—
In suchlike forms me listeth to portray
My Tale, here ended. Thou delicious Fay—
The guardian of a Sprite that lives to tease thee—
Loving in earnest, chiding but in play
The merry mocking Bruno! Who, that sees thee,
Can fail to love thee, Darling, even as I?—
My sweetest Sylvie, we must say ‘Good-bye!’
PREFACE.
I must begin with the same announcement as in the previous Volume (which
I shall henceforward refer to as “Vol. I.,” calling the present Volume
“Vol. II.”), viz. that the Locket, at p. 405, was drawn by ‘Miss Alice
Havers.’ And my reason, for not stating this on the title-page—that it
seems only due, to the artist of these wonderful pictures, that his name
should stand there alone—has, I think, even greater weight in Vol. II.
than it had in Vol. I. Let me call especial attention to the three
“Little Birds” borders, at pp. 365, 371, 377. The way, in which he has
managed to introduce the most minute details of the stanzas to be
illustrated, seems to me a triumph of artistic ingenuity.
Let me here express my sincere gratitude to the many Reviewers who have
noticed, whether favorably or unfavorably, the previous Volume. Their
unfavorable remarks were, most probably, well-deserved; the favorable
ones less probably so. Both kinds have no doubt served to make the book
known, and have helped the reading Public to form their opinions of it.
Let me also here assure them that it is not from any want of respect for
their criticisms, that I have carefully forborne from reading _any_ of
them. I am strongly of opinion that an author had far better _not_ read
any reviews of his books: the unfavorable ones are almost certain to
make him cross, and the favorable ones conceited; and _neither_ of these
results is desirable.
Criticisms have, however, reached me from private sources, to some of
which I propose to offer a reply.
One such critic complains that Arthur’s strictures, on sermons | 1,425.184492 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.1653680 | 1,149 | 10 |
Produced by David Widger
DR. BREEN'S PRACTICE.
By William Dean Howells
1881
I.
Near the verge of a bold promontory stands the hotel, and looks
southeastward over a sweep of sea unbroken to the horizon. Behind it
stretches the vast forest, which after two hundred years has resumed the
sterile coast wrested from it by the first Pilgrims, and has begun to
efface the evidences of the inroad made in recent years by the bold
speculator for whom Jocelyn's is named. The young birches and spruces
are breast high in the drives and avenues at Jocelyn's; the low
blackberry vines and the sweet fern cover the carefully-graded
sidewalks, and obscure the divisions of the lots; the children of the
boarders have found squawberries in the public square on the spot where
the band-stand was to have been. The notion of a sea-side resort at
this point was courageously conceived, and to a certain extent it was
generously realized. Except for its remoteness from the railroad, a
drawback which future enterprise might be expected to remedy in some
way, the place has many natural advantages. The broad plateau is cooled
by a breeze from the vast forests behind it, which comes laden with
health and freshness from the young pines; the sea at its feet is warmed
by the Gulf Stream to a temperature delicious for bathing. There
are certainly mosquitoes from the woods; but there are mosquitoes
everywhere, and the report that people have been driven away by them is
manifestly untrue, for whoever comes to Jocelyn's remains. The beach at
the foot of the bluff is almost a mile at its curve, and it is so smooth
and hard that it glistens like polished marble when newly washed by the
tide. It is true that you reach it from the top by a flight of eighty
steps, but it was intended to have an elevator, like those near the
Whirlpool at Niagara. In the mean time it is easy enough to go down, and
the ladies go down every day, taking their novels or their needle-work
with them. They have various notions of a bath: some conceive that it is
bathing to sit in the edge of the water, and emit shrieks as the
surge sweeps against them; others run boldly in, and after a moment of
poignant hesitation jump up and down half-a-dozen times, and run out;
yet others imagine it better to remain immersed to the chin for a given
space, looking toward the shore with lips tightly shut and the breath
held. But after the bath they are all of one mind; they lay their shawls
on the warm sand, and, spreading out their hair to dry, they doze in the
sun, in such coils and masses as the unconscious figure lends itself to.
When they rise from their beds, they sit in the shelter of the cliff and
knit or sew, while one of them reads aloud, and another stands watch to
announce the coming of the seals, which frequent a reef near the shore
in great numbers. It has been said at rival points on the coast that
the ladies linger there in despair of ever being able to remount to
the hotel. A young man who clambered along the shore from one of those
points reported finding day after day the same young lady stretched out
on the same shawl, drying the same yellow hair, who had apparently
never gone upstairs since the season began. But the recurrence of this
phenomenon in this spot at the very moment when the young man came by
might have been accounted for upon other theories. Jocelyn's was so
secluded that she could not have expected any one to find her there
twice, and if she had expected this she would not have permitted it.
Probably he saw a different young lady each time.
Many of the same boarders come year after year, and these tremble at
the suggestion of a change for the better in Jocelyn's. The landlord has
always believed that Jocelyn's would come up, some day, when times
got better. He believes that the narrow-gauge railroad from New
Leyden--arrested on paper at the disastrous moment when the fortunes of
Jocelyn's felt the general crash--will be pushed through yet; and
every summer he promises that next summer they are going to have a
steam-launch running twice a day from Leyden Harbor. But at present his
house is visited once a day by a barge, as the New England coast-folks
call the vehicle in which they convey city boarders to and from the
station, and the old frequenters of the place hope that the station will
never be nearer Jocelyn's than at present. Some of them are rich enough
to afford a sojourn at more fashionable resorts; but most of them are
not, though they are often people of polite tastes and of aesthetic
employments. They talk with slight of the large watering-places, and
probably they would not like them, though it is really economy that
inspires their passion for Jocelyn's with most of them, and they know
of the splendid weariness of Newport mostly by hearsay. New arrivals
are not favored, but there are not often new arrivals at Jocelyn's. | 1,425.185408 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.1654850 | 129 | 10 |
Produced by Chuck Greif, The University of Florida Digital
Collections and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's note: The etext attempts to replicate the printed book as
closely as possible. Obvious errors in spelling and punctuation have
been corrected. The spellings of names, places and Spanish words used by
the author have not been corrected or modernized by the etext
transcriber. The footnotes have been moved to the end of the text body.
The images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest
paragraph break | 1,425.185525 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.2540480 | 38 | 70 |
Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
* * * * *
+ | 1,425.274088 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.3611770 | 3,937 | 168 |
Produced by Mike Alder and Sue Asscher
THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES OF LORD MACAULAY.
Contributions To The Edinburgh Review
By Thomas Babington Macaulay
VOLUME II.
CONTENTS.
CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE EDINBURGH REVIEW.
John Dryden. (January 1828.)
History. (May 1828.)
Mill on Government. (March 1829.)
Westminster Reviewer's Defence of Mill. (June 1829.)
Utilitarian Theory of Government. (October 1829.)
Sadler's Law of Population. (July 1830.)
Sadler's Refutation Refuted. (January 1831.)
Mirabeau. (July 1832.)
Barere. (April 1844.)
MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS OF LORD MACAULAY.
CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE EDINBURGH REVIEW.
JOHN DRYDEN. (January 1828.)
"The Poetical Works of John Dryden". In 2 volumes.
University Edition. London, 1826.
The public voice has assigned to Dryden the first place in the
second rank of our poets,--no mean station in a table of intellectual
precedency so rich in illustrious names. It is allowed that, even of
the few who were his superiors in genius, none has exercised a more
extensive or permanent influence on the national habits of thought and
expression. His life was commensurate with the period during which
a great revolution in the public taste was effected; and in that
revolution he played the part of Cromwell. By unscrupulously taking the
lead in its wildest excesses, he obtained the absolute guidance of it.
By trampling on laws, he acquired the authority of a legislator. By
signalising himself as the most daring and irreverent of rebels, he
raised himself to the dignity of a recognised prince. He commenced his
career by the most frantic outrages. He terminated it in the repose of
established sovereignty,--the author of a new code, the root of a new
dynasty.
Of Dryden, however, as of almost every man who has been distinguished
either in the literary or in the political world, it may be said that
the course which he pursued, and the effect which he produced, depended
less on his personal qualities than on the circumstances in which he was
placed. Those who have read history with discrimination know the fallacy
of those panegyrics and invectives which represent individuals
as effecting great moral and intellectual revolutions, subverting
established systems, and imprinting a new character on their age. The
difference between one man and another is by no means so great as the
superstitious crowd supposes. But the same feelings which in ancient
Rome produced the apotheosis of a popular emperor, and in modern Rome
the canonisation of a devout prelate, lead men to cherish an illusion
which furnishes them with something to adore. By a law of association,
from the operation of which even minds the most strictly regulated
by reason are not wholly exempt, misery disposes us to hatred, and
happiness to love, although there may be no person to whom our misery
or our happiness can be ascribed. The peevishness of an invalid vents
itself even on those who alleviate his pain. The good humour of a man
elated by success often displays itself towards enemies. In the
same manner, the feelings of pleasure and admiration, to which the
contemplation of great events gives birth, make an object where they
do not find it. Thus, nations descend to the absurdities of Egyptian
idolatry, and worship stocks and reptiles--Sacheverells and Wilkeses.
They even fall prostrate before a deity to which they have themselves
given the form which commands their veneration, and which, unless
fashioned by them, would have remained a shapeless block. They persuade
themselves that they are the creatures of what they have themselves
created. For, in fact, it is the age that forms the man, not the man
that forms the age. Great minds do indeed re-act on the society which
has made them what they are; but they only pay with interest what they
have received. We extol Bacon, and sneer at Aquinas. But, if their
situations had been changed, Bacon might have been the Angelical Doctor,
the most subtle Aristotelian of the schools; the Dominican might have
led forth the sciences from their house of bondage. If Luther had been
born in the tenth century, he would have effected no reformation. If
he had never been born at all, it is evident that the sixteenth century
could not have elapsed without a great schism in the church. Voltaire,
in the days of Louis the Fourteenth, would probably have been, like most
of the literary men of that time, a zealous Jansenist, eminent among the
defenders of efficacious grace, a bitter assailant of the lax morality
of the Jesuits and the unreasonable decisions of the Sorbonne. If Pascal
had entered on his literary career when intelligence was more general,
and abuses at the same time more flagrant, when the church was polluted
by the Iscariot Dubois, the court disgraced by the orgies of Canillac,
and the nation sacrificed to the juggles of Law, if he had lived to see
a dynasty of harlots, an empty treasury and a crowded harem, an army
formidable only to those whom it should have protected, a priesthood
just religious enough to be intolerant, he might possibly, like every
man of genius in France, have imbibed extravagant prejudices against
monarchy and Christianity. The wit which blasted the sophisms of
Escobar--the impassioned eloquence which defended the sisters of Port
Royal--the intellectual hardihood which was not beaten down even by
Papal authority--might have raised him to the Patriarchate of the
Philosophical Church. It was long disputed whether the honour of
inventing the method of Fluxions belonged to Newton or to Leibnitz. It
is now generally allowed that these great men made the same discovery
at the same time. Mathematical science, indeed, had then reached such
a point that, if neither of them had ever existed, the principle must
inevitably have occurred to some person within a few years. So in our
own time the doctrine of rent, now universally received by political
economists, was propounded, almost at the same moment, by two writers
unconnected with each other. Preceding speculators had long been
blundering round about it; and it could not possibly have been missed
much longer by the most heedless inquirer. We are inclined to think
that, with respect to every great addition which has been made to
the stock of human knowledge, the case has been similar; that without
Copernicus we should have been Copernicans,--that without Columbus
America would have been discovered,--that without Locke we should have
possessed a just theory of the origin of human ideas. Society indeed has
its great men and its little men, as the earth has its mountains and its
valleys. But the inequalities of intellect, like the inequalities of the
surface of our globe, bear so small a proportion to the mass, that, in
calculating its great revolutions, they may safely be neglected. The sun
illuminates the hills, while it is still below the horizon, and truth is
discovered by the highest minds a little before it becomes manifest to
the multitude. This is the extent of their superiority. They are the
first to catch and reflect a light, which, without their assistance,
must, in a short time, be visible to those who lie far beneath them.
The same remark will apply equally to the fine arts. The laws on which
depend the progress and decline of poetry, painting, and sculpture,
operate with little less certainty than those which regulate the
periodical returns of heat and cold, of fertility and barrenness. Those
who seem to lead the public taste are, in general, merely outrunning
it in the direction which it is spontaneously pursuing. Without a just
apprehension of the laws to which we have alluded the merits and defects
of Dryden can be but imperfectly understood. We will, therefore, state
what we conceive them to be.
The ages in which the master-pieces of imagination have been produced
have by no means been those in which taste has been most correct. It
seems that the creative faculty, and the critical faculty, cannot exist
together in their highest perfection. The causes of this phenomenon it
is not difficult to assign.
It is true that the man who is best able to take a machine to pieces,
and who most clearly comprehends the manner in which all its wheels and
springs conduce to its general effect, will be the man most competent to
form another machine of similar power. In all the branches of physical
and moral science which admit of perfect analysis, he who can resolve
will be able to combine. But the analysis which criticism can effect
of poetry is necessarily imperfect. One element must for ever elude its
researches; and that is the very element by which poetry is poetry. In
the description of nature, for example, a judicious reader will easily
detect an incongruous image. But he will find it impossible to explain
in what consists the art of a writer who, in a few words, brings some
spot before him so vividly that he shall know it as if he had lived
there from childhood; while another, employing the same materials,
the same verdure, the same water, and the same flowers, committing
no inaccuracy, introducing nothing which can be positively pronounced
superfluous, omitting nothing which can be positively pronounced
necessary, shall produce no more effect than an advertisement of a
capital residence and a desirable pleasure-ground. To take another
example: the great features of the character of Hotspur are obvious to
the most superficial reader. We at once perceive that his courage is
splendid, his thirst of glory intense, his animal spirits high, his
temper careless, arbitrary, and petulant; that he indulges his own
humour without caring whose feelings he may wound, or whose enmity he
may provoke, by his levity. Thus far criticism will go. But something
is still wanting. A man might have all those qualities, and every other
quality which the most minute examiner can introduce into his catalogue
of the virtues and faults of Hotspur, and yet he would not be
Hotspur. Almost everything that we have said of him applies equally
to Falconbridge. Yet in the mouth of Falconbridge most of his speeches
would seem out of place. In real life this perpetually occurs. We are
sensible of wide differences between men whom, if we were required to
describe them, we should describe in almost the same terms. If we were
attempting to draw elaborate characters of them, we should scarcely
be able to point out any strong distinction; yet we approach them with
feelings altogether dissimilar. We cannot conceive of them as using
the expressions or the gestures of each other. Let us suppose that a
zoologist should attempt to give an account of some animal, a porcupine
for instance, to people who had never seen it. The porcupine, he might
say, is of the class mammalia, and the order glires. There are whiskers
on its face; it is two feet long; it has four toes before, five behind,
two fore teeth, and eight grinders. Its body is covered with hair and
quills. And, when all this has been said, would any one of the auditors
have formed a just idea of a porcupine? Would any two of them have
formed the same idea? There might exist innumerable races of animals,
possessing all the characteristics which have been mentioned yet
altogether unlike to each other. What the description of our naturalist
is to a real porcupine, the remarks of criticism are to the images
of poetry. What it so imperfectly decomposes it cannot perfectly
reconstruct. It is evidently as impossible to produce an Othello or a
Macbeth by reversing an analytical process so defective, as it would
be for an anatomist to form a living man out of the fragments of his
dissecting-room. In both cases the vital principle eludes the finest
instruments, and vanishes in the very instant in which its seat is
touched. Hence those who, trusting to their critical skill, attempt to
write poems give us, not images of things, but catalogues of qualities.
Their characters are allegories--not good men and bad men, but cardinal
virtues and deadly sins. We seem to have fallen among the acquaintances
of our old friend Christian: sometimes we meet Mistrust and Timorous;
sometimes Mr Hate-good and Mr Love-lust; and then again Prudence, Piety
and Charity.
That critical discernment is not sufficient to make men poets, is
generally allowed. Why it should keep them from becoming poets, is not
perhaps equally evident; but the fact is, that poetry requires not an
examining but a believing frame of mind. Those feel it most, and write
it best, who forget that it is a work of art; to whom its imitations,
like the realities from which they are taken, are subjects, not for
connoisseurship, but for tears and laughter, resentment and affection;
who are too much under the influence of the illusion to admire the
genius which has produced it; who are too much frightened for Ulysses
in the cave of Polyphemus to care whether the pun about Outis be good
or bad; who forget that such a person as Shakspeare ever existed, while
they weep and curse with Lear. It is by giving faith to the creations
of the imagination that a man becomes a poet. It is by treating those
creations as deceptions, and by resolving them, as nearly as possible,
into their elements, that he becomes a critic. In the moment in which
the skill of the artist is perceived, the spell of the art is broken.
These considerations account for the absurdities into which the greatest
writers have fallen, when they have attempted to give general rules for
composition, or to pronounce judgment on the works of others. They are
unaccustomed to analyse what they feel; they, therefore, perpetually
refer their emotions to causes which have not in the slightest degree
tended to produce them. They feel pleasure in reading a book. They
never consider that this pleasure may be the effect of ideas which
some unmeaning expression, striking on the first link of a chain of
associations, may have called up in their own minds--that they have
themselves furnished to the author the beauties which they admire.
Cervantes is the delight of all classes of readers. Every school-boy
thumbs to pieces the most wretched translations of his romance, and
knows the lantern jaws of the Knight Errant, and the broad cheeks of
the Squire, as well as the faces of his own playfellows. The most
experienced and fastidious judges are amazed at the perfection of that
art which extracts inextinguishable laughter from the greatest of human
calamities without once violating the reverence due to it; at that
discriminating delicacy of touch which makes a character exquisitely
ridiculous, without impairing its worth, its grace, or its dignity. In
Don Quixote are several dissertations on the principles of poetic and
dramatic writing. No passages in the whole work exhibit stronger marks
of labour and attention; and no passages in any work with which we
are acquainted are more worthless and puerile. In our time they would
scarcely obtain admittance into the literary department of the Morning
Post. Every reader of the Divine Comedy must be struck by the veneration
which Dante expresses for writers far inferior to himself. He will not
lift up his eyes from the ground in the presence of Brunetto, all whose
works are not worth the worst of his own hundred cantos. He does
not venture to walk in the same line with the bombastic Statius. His
admiration of Virgil is absolute idolatry. If, indeed, it had been
excited by the elegant, splendid, and harmonious diction of the Roman
poet, it would not have been altogether unreasonable; but it is
rather as an authority on all points of philosophy, than as a work of
imagination, that he values the Aeneid. The most trivial passages he
regards as oracles of the highest authority, and of the most recondite
meaning. He describes his conductor as the sea of all wisdom--the sun
which heals every disordered sight. As he judged of Virgil, the Italians
of the fourteenth century judged of him; they were proud of him; they
praised him; they struck medals bearing his head; they quarrelled for
the honour of possessing his remains; they maintained professors
to expound his writings. But what they admired was not that mighty
imagination which called a new world into existence, and made all its
sights and sounds familiar to the eye and ear of the mind. They said
little of those awful and lovely creations on which later critics
delight to dwell--Farinata lifting his haughty and tranquil brow from
his couch of everlasting fire--the lion-like repose of Sordello--or the
light which shone from the celestial smile of Beatrice. They extolled
their great poet for his smattering of ancient literature and history;
for his logic and his divinity; for his absurd physics, and his most
absurd metaphysics; for everything but that in which he pre-eminently
excelled. Like the fool in the story, who ruined his dwelling by digging
for gold, which, as he had dreamed, was concealed under its foundations,
they laid waste one of the noblest works of human genius, by seeking in
it for buried treasures of wisdom which existed only in their own wild
reveries. The finest passages were little valued till they had been
debased into some monstrous | 1,425.381217 |
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Produced by David Widger.
THE SNOW-IMAGE
AND
OTHER TWICE-TOLD TALES
JOHN INGLEFIELD'S THANKSGIVING
By
Nathaniel Hawthorne
On the evening of Thanksgiving day, John Inglefield, the blacksmith, sat
in his elbow-chair, among those who had been keeping festival at his
board. Being the central figure of the domestic circle, the fire threw
its strongest light on his massive and sturdy frame, reddening his rough
visage, so that it looked like the head of an iron statue, all aglow,
from his own forge, and with its features rudely fashioned on his own
anvil. At John Inglefield's right hand was an empty chair. The other
places round the hearth were filled by the members of the family, who all
sat quietly, while, with a semblance of fantastic merriment, their
shadows danced on the wall behind then. One of the group was John
Inglefield's son, who had been bred at college, and was now a student of
theology at Andover. There was also a daughter of sixteen, whom nobody
could look at without thinking of a rosebud almost blossomed. The only
other person at the fireside was Robert Moore, formerly an apprentice of
the blacksmith, but now his journeyman, and who seemed more like an own
son of John Inglefield than did the pale and slender student.
Only these four had kept New England's festival beneath that roof. The
vacant chair at John Inglefield's right hand was in memory of his wife,
whom death had snatched from him since the previous Thanksgiving. With a
feeling that few would have looked for in his rough nature, the bereaved
husband had himself set the chair in its place next his own; and often
did his eye glance thitherward, as if he deemed it possible that the cold
grave might send back its tenant to the cheerful fireside, at least for
that one evening. Thus did he cherish the grief that was dear to him.
But there was another grief which he would fain have torn from his heart;
or, since that could never be, have buried it too deep for others to
behold, or for his own remembrance. Within the past year another member
of his household had gone from him, but not to the grave. Yet they kept
no vacant chair for her.
While John Inglefield and his family were sitting round the hearth with
the shadows dancing behind them on the wall, the outer door was opened,
and a light footstep came along the passage. The latch of the inner door
was lifted by some familiar hand, and a young girl came in, wearing a
cloak and hood, which she took off, and laid on the table beneath the
looking-glass. Then, after gazing a moment at the fireside circle, she
approached, and took the seat at John Inglefield's right hand, as if it
had been reserved on purpose for her.
"Here I am, at last, father," said she. "You ate your Thanksgiving
dinner without me, but I have come back to spend the evening with you."
Yes, it was Prudence Inglefield. She wore the same neat and maidenly
attire which she had been accustomed to put on when the household work
was over for the day, and her hair was parted from her brow, in the
simple and modest fashion that became her best of all. If her cheek
might otherwise have been pale, yet the glow of the fire suffused it with
a healthful bloom. If she had spent the many months of her absence in
guilt and infamy, yet they seemed to have left no traces on her gentle
aspect. She could not have looked less altered, had she merely stepped
away from her father's fireside for half an hour, and returned while the
blaze was quivering upwards from the same brands that were burning at her
departure. And to John Inglefield she was the very image of his buried
wife, such as he remembered her on the first Thanksgiving which they had
passed under their own roof. Therefore, though naturally a stern and
rugged man, he could not speak unkindly to his sinful child, nor yet
could he take her to his bosom.
"You are welcome home, Prudence," said he, glancing sideways at her, and
his voice faltered. "Your mother would have rejoiced to see you, but she
has been gone from us these four months."
"I know it, father, I know it," replied Prudence, quickly. "And yet,
when I first came in, my eyes were so dazzled by the firelight, that she
seemed to be sitting in this very chair!"
By this time the other members of the family had begun to recover from
their surprise, and became sensible that it was no ghost from the grave,
nor vision of their vivid recollections, but Prudence, her own self. Her
brother was the next that greeted her. He advanced and held out his hand
affectionately, as a brother should; yet not entirely like a brother,
for, with all his kindness, he was still a clergyman, and speaking to a
child of sin.
"Sister Prudence," said he, earnestly, "I rejoice that a merciful
Providence hath turned your steps homeward, in time for me to bid you a
last farewell. In a few weeks, sister, I am to sail as a missionary to
the far islands of the Pacific. There is not one of these beloved faces
that I shall ever hope to behold again on this earth. O, may I see all
of them--yours and all--beyond the grave!"
A shadow flitted across the girl's countenance.
"The grave is very dark, brother," answered she, withdrawing her hand
somewhat hastily from his grasp. "You must look your last at me by the
light of this fire."
While this was passing, the twin-girl-the rosebud that had grown on the
same stem with the castaway--stood gazing at her sister, longing to fling
herself upon her bosom, so that the tendrils of their hearts might
intertwine again. At first she was restrained by mingled grief and
shame, and by a dread that Prudence was too much changed to respond to
her affection, or that her own purity would be felt as a reproach by the
lost one. But, as she listened to the familiar voice, while the face
grew more and more familiar, she forgot everything save that Prudence had
come back. Springing forward, she would have clasped her in a close
embrace. At that very instant, however, Prudence started from her chair,
and held out both her hands, with a warning gesture.
"No, Mary,--no, my sister," cried she, "do not you touch me. Your bosom
must not be pressed to mine!"
Mary shuddered and stood still, for she felt that something darker than
the grave was between Prudence and herself, though they seemed so near
each other in the light of their father's hearth, where they had grown up
together. Meanwhile Prudence threw her eyes around the room, in search
of one who had not yet bidden her welcome. He had withdrawn from his
seat by the fireside, and was standing near the door, with his face
averted, so that his features could be discerned only by the flickering
shadow of the profile upon the wall. But Prudence called to him, in a
cheerful and kindly tone:--
"Come, Robert," said she, "won't you shake hands with your old friend?"
Robert Moore held back for a moment, but affection struggled powerfully,
and overcame his pride and resentment; he rushed towards Prudence, seized
her hand, and pressed it to his bosom.
"There, there, Robert!" said she, smiling sadly, as she withdrew her
hand, "you must not give me too warm a welcome."
And now, having exchanged greetings with each member of the family,
Prudence again seated herself in the chair at John Inglefield's right
hand. She was naturally a girl of quick and tender sensibilities,
gladsome in her general mood, but with a bewitching pathos interfused
among her merriest words and deeds. It was remarked | 1,425.473666 |
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Produced by sp1nd, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE BROKEN FONT
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "TALES OF THE WARS OF OUR TIMES,"
"RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PENINSULA," &c. &c. &c.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1836.
THE BROKEN FONT.
CHAPTER I.
And now, good morrow to our waking soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare.
DONNE.
The noble spirit of Katharine Heywood was severely exercised by those
disclosures of Jane Lambert which have been related in a former
chapter.
She regretted, too late, that she had ever asked that true-hearted
girl to perform an office so difficult in itself, and which had
proved, in its consequences, so hazardous to her reputation and her
peace. The chance of such a misfortune as that which had befallen Jane
never remotely presented itself to her mind at the moment when she
made the request, yet she could not but feel compunction as she
reflected on the trouble to which the generous constancy of a delicate
mind had subjected her affectionate friend. One slight reparation was
in her power. It became her plain duty to undeceive the mind of Juxon
on the subject; and the thought that she should be thus instrumental
in bringing together two fine characters, formed for each other, made
all selfish considerations about her own sorrow, and every pang which
her maidenly pride must suffer, vanish before that proper resolution.
No opportunity of speaking in private with Juxon occurred on the
evening of Jane's disclosure to Katharine, nor did any offer itself
until the arrival of her young cousin Arthur from Oxford. It was a
mournful trial to Katharine to observe the high and joyous spirits of
the ardent youth, as he embraced and thanked Sir Oliver for acceding
to his request. The silent house became suddenly full of cheerful
echoes as the brave boy passed to and fro on its oaken staircase and
along the pleasant gallery, singing snatches of loyal songs, or making
his spurs jingle as he ran. All his preparations for the solemn work
of war were made with a light heart, and with little or no
consideration that fellow-countrymen were to be his enemies. Such
little sympathy as the boy once felt for the tortured Prynne existed
no longer for any one of that party, which he had learned to look upon
as traitors.
One would have thought that he was volunteering in a foreign
expedition, by his gay-hearted alacrity in getting ready.
"Cousin Kate," said he, turning towards her as they sat at breakfast
in the hall, "you must make us a couple of King's rosettes,--and I
hope you have both of you," he added, looking at Jane Lambert, "nearly
finished embroidering the small standard for our troop:--you have
laughed at me, and called me boy, Jane; but when I bring you back your
own embroidery, stained with the blood of traitors, you shall reward
me as a man."
"I am not so very blood-thirsty, Arthur," said Jane Lambert, "as to
wish it shed to do honour to my embroidery; and if I see you come
safe back with your sword bright and a peace branch in your hand, I
will tell a fib for you, and call you a man before your beard comes.
Now don't frown--it does not become your smooth face:--when all is
over, you shall play the part of a lady in the first court masque, and
shall wear my rose- gown."
"Why, Jane," said Sir Oliver, "what is come to you, girl? It was but
five minutes ago that I saw you with your kerchief at your eyes,
looking as sad as though you were sitting at a funeral; and now thou
mockest poor Arthur, as if he were a vain boaster, instead of a
gallant boy, as thou well knowest.--Never mind her, Arthur: she is a
true woman, and teazes those most whom she loves the best. She will
cry peccavi to thee a few weeks hence, and suffer thee to give her a
full pardon in honest kisses."
"Marry, Sir Oliver," said Jane, smiling, "you will spoil the boy, an
you talk thus to him."
"She shall not wait so long for my pardon," said the good-tempered
Arthur, with quickness; and rising from his seat, he went to Jane,
and, with the permitted familiarity of boyhood and cousinship, he
gave her a kiss. "There," he added: "a bird in the hand is worth two
in the bush. 'To-morrow' is a word I never liked, and it is a season
which I may never find. Now, remember, if I should have the ill luck
to be cut down by the sword of a traitor, I die in peace with you,
dear coz, and forgive you for your merriment beforehand."
"She will not be merrier, Arthur, than she is now," said Katharine;
"and to say truth, the very thought is enough to make us sad, if we
were not melancholy already:--but I must not hear, my dear father, of
your going to the field. It will be at the cost of your life, and
that, too, without your having the satisfaction to be of use."
"An example, Kate, must always be of service, if it be a good one; and
though I never stood opposite a shotted cannon hitherto, methinks, to
do that once by the side of my King would make the short remnant of my
life all the brighter for it. Besides, my dear girl, for all the talk
which these Parliament men make about their levies, let the country
gentlemen of the western counties arm in right earnest, and the loyal
cavaliers of England will make these praying rogues bend the knee and
cry out for quarter."
"To be sure they will," said the excited Arthur: "I will bring cousin
Jane a live specimen of the genuine round-headed rebel, with his hands
tied behind him, and the whites of his eyes where the pupils should
be."
At this moment Juxon entered the hall from Old Beech:--he caught the
last sentence; and putting one hand on Arthur's shoulder, as he gave
the other to Sir Oliver.--"Remember, my young master," he said, "that
thy game must be caught before it can be cooked, at least so says the
cookery book in my old housekeeper's room; and, believe me, you will
find a day's fighting with these Parliament boys rather harder work
than a morning's hare-hunting, and little game bagged at the close of
it."
"Why, George Juxon! this from you!" said Sir Oliver. "Why, you are the
very last man that I expected to hear croak in this fashion. Why, I
expect to see the vagabonds turn tail, before a charge of well mounted
cavaliers, like a flock of sheep."
"You could not see such a runaway flight with greater pleasure than I
should; but take my word for it, the King's enemies are made of
sterner stuff than you give them credit for. Many a great spirit is
reckoned among their leaders; and of the meaner folk that follow them
numbers have put their hearts into the cause, under a notion that it
is that of the people. No, sir, Arthur will act in these troubles, I
am well assured, with the same manliness of spirit with which he wrote
to you from Oxford, and, therefore, I do not wish to hear him talk
like a school boy."
Arthur with a little confusion at this grave rebuke; but,
with the frank grace of a generous spirit, confessed himself to have
spoken idly, and to be wrong; excusing it, at the same time, by
saying, that he was only vapouring so to plague Jane Lambert a little,
who, he verily believed, to be in love with one of the rebels. The
eyes of Katharine fell, and her gaze was fixed silently upon the
ground, and a slight contraction of her brow showed to Jane how very
keenly she was suffering. It was not possible, at the moment, to leave
the table without an abruptness which must, of necessity, attract
notice, or she would have done so; but Jane, with a ready
cheerfulness, replied, "Perhaps I am: now, guess for me, most noble
cavalier, whether my Puritan suitor be tall or short; young or old;
how many hairs grow on his chin; whether his cheeks be red and white,
like summer apples; how much buff it may take to make him a war coat;
and if he do not wear high boot heels and jingling spurs for bravery?"
The fine temper of Arthur enabled him to take this playful raillery of
Jane's as pleasantly as it was meant; and Sir Oliver came to the boy's
aid, observing, "The sly maiden is laughing at us both, Arthur; and it
is too true that I must have a broad seam let into my old buff
coat.--See thou have it done quickly," said he, "Philip," turning to
the old serving man behind his chair.
The announcement, however, which Sir Oliver had before made of his
intentions, confirmed by the order thus gaily given, seemed to take
away the old man's breath; for to old Philip none of these sad changes
were matters for laughter.
Juxon did not discourage these intentions of Sir Oliver for the
present: he had satisfied his own mind that the family must, of
necessity, soon quit the mansion at Milverton for a season. The spirit
in Warwick and in Coventry was decidedly favourable to the cause of
the Parliament; and although many of the gentlemen and yeomen in the
country villages declared for his Majesty, yet whatever men could be
raised under the commission of array would, of course, be marched
away. However, it was agreed among the gentry, that the King should be
invited to show himself in the county, and that some effort should be
made to arouse the loyalty and enlist the feelings of the people in
his quarrel. Should this fail, they all looked to Nottingham or
Shrewsbury as favourable rallying points for the Royalists.
In the mean time secret preparations were made for concealing or
removing valuable effects, and for transporting families and
households, when the approach of the parliamentary forces should
render it no longer safe for the more distinguished and wealthy of the
Royalists to remain in their stately homes.
The conversation at the breakfast table at Milverton was changed from
the jocular mood of the moment to a graver tone.
The news of the day,--the last movements of the King,--the rumours of
his approach,--conjectures of his reception,--by turns engaged the
attention of | 1,425.474905 |
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Produced by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Charlie
Kirschner and PG Distributed Proofreaders
DELIA
BLANCHFLOWER
BY
MRS. HUMPHRY WARD
AUTHOR "LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER," ETC.
Frontispiece in color by
WILL FOSTER
DELIA BLANCHFLOWER
Chapter I
"Not a Britisher to be seen--or scarcely! Well, I can do without 'em
for a bit!"
And the Englishman whose mind shaped these words continued his
leisurely survey of the crowded salon of a Tyrolese hotel, into which a
dining-room like a college hall had just emptied itself after the
mid-day meal. Meanwhile a German, sitting near, seeing that his tall
neighbour had been searching his pockets in vain for matches, offered
some. The Englishman's quick smile in response modified the German's
general opinion of English manners, and the two exchanged some remarks
on the weather--a thunder shower was splashing outside--remarks which
bore witness at least to the Englishman's courage in using such
knowledge of the German tongue as he possessed. Then, smoking
contentedly, he leant against the wall behind him, still looking on.
He saw a large room, some seventy feet long, filled with a
miscellaneous foreign crowd--South Germans, Austrians, Russians,
Italians--seated in groups round small tables, smoking, playing cards
or dominoes, reading the day's newspapers which the funicular had just
brought up, or lazily listening to the moderately good band which was
playing some Rheingold selection at the farther end.
To his left was a large family circle--Russians, according to
information derived from the headwaiter--and among them, a girl,
apparently about eighteen, sitting on the edge of the party and
absorbed in a novel of which she was eagerly turning the pages. From
her face and figure the half savage, or Asiatic note, present in the
physiognomy and complexion of her brothers and sisters, was entirely
absent. Her beautiful head with its luxuriant mass of black hair, worn
low upon the cheek, and coiled in thick plaits behind, reminded the
Englishman of a Greek fragment he had admired, not many days before, in
the Louvre; her form too was of a classical lightness and perfection.
The Englishman noticed indeed that her temper was apparently not equal
to her looks. When her small brothers interrupted her, she repelled
them with a pettish word or gesture; the English governess addressed
her, and got no answer beyond a haughty look; even her mother was
scarcely better treated.
Close by, at another table, was another young girl, rather younger than
the first, and equally pretty. She too was dark haired, with a delicate
oval face and velvet black eyes, but without any of the passionate
distinction, the fire and flame of the other. She was German,
evidently. She wore a plain white dress with a red sash, and her little
feet in white shoes were lightly crossed in front of her. The face and
eyes were all alive, it seemed to him, with happiness, with the mere
pleasure of life. She could not keep herself still for a moment. Either
she was sending laughing signals to an elderly man near her, presumably
her father, or chattering at top speed with another girl of her own
age, or gathering her whole graceful body into a gesture of delight as
the familiar Rheingold music passed from one lovely _motif_ to another.
"You dear little thing!" thought the Englishman, with an impulse of
tenderness, which passed into foreboding amusement as he compared the
pretty creature with some of the matrons sitting near her, with one in
particular, a lady of enormous girth, whose achievements in eating and
drinking at meals had seemed to him amazing. Almost all the middle-aged
women in the hotel were too fat, and had lost their youth thereby,
prematurely. Must the fairy herself--Euphrosyne--come to such a muddy
vesture in the end? Twenty years hence?--alack!
"Beauty that must die." The hackneyed words came suddenly to mind, and
haunted him, as his eyes wandered round the room. Amid many coarse or
commonplace types, he yet perceived an unusual number of agreeable or
handsome faces; as is indeed generally the case in any Austrian hotel.
Faces, some of them, among the very young girls especially, of a
rose-tinted fairness, and subtly expressive, the dark brows arching on
white foreheads, the features straight and clean, the heads well
carried, as though conscious of ancestry and tradition; faces, also, of
the _bourgeoisie_, of a simpler, Gretchen-like beauty; faces--a few--of
"intellectuals," as he fancied,--including the girl with the
novel?--not always handsome, but arresting, and sometimes noble. He
felt himself in a border land of races, where the Teutonic and Latin
strains had each improved the other; and the pretty young girls and
women seemed to him like flowers sprung from an old and rich soil. He
found his pleasure in watching them--the pleasure of the Ancient
Mariner when he blessed the water-snakes. Sex had little to say to it;
and personal desire nothing. Was he not just over forty?--a very busy
Englishman, snatching a hard-earned holiday--a bachelor, moreover,
whose own story lay far behind him.
"_Beauty that must die_" The words reverberated and would not be
dismissed. Was it because he had just been reading an article in a new
number of the _Quarterly_, on "Contemporary Feminism," with mingled
amazement and revolt, roused by some of the strange facts collected by
the writer? So women everywhere--many women at any rate--were turning
indiscriminately against the old bonds, the old yokes, affections,
servitudes, demanding "self-realisation," freedom for the individuality
and the personal will; rebelling against motherhood, and life-long
marriage; clamouring for easy divorce, and denouncing their own
fathers, brothers and husbands, as either tyrants or fools; casting
away the old props and veils; determined, apparently, to know
everything, however ugly, and to say everything, however outrageous? He
himself was a countryman, an English provincial, with English public
school and university traditions of the best kind behind him, a mind
steeped in history, and a natural taste for all that was ancient and
deep-rooted. The sketch of an emerging generation of women, given in
the _Quarterly_ article, had made a deep impression upon him. It seemed
to him frankly horrible. He was of course well acquainted, though
mainly through the newspapers, with English suffragism, moderate and
extreme. His own country district and circle were not, however, much
concerned with it. And certainly he knew personally no such types as
the _Quarterly_ article described. Among them, no doubt, were the women
who set fire to houses, and violently interrupted or assaulted Cabinet
ministers, who wrote and maintained newspapers that decent people would
rather not read, who grasped at martyrdom and had turned evasion of
penalty into a science, the continental type, though not as yet
involved like their English sisters in a hand-to-hand, or fist-to-fist
struggle with law and order, were, it seemed, even more revolutionary
in principle, and to some extent in action. The life and opinions of a
Sonia Kovalevski left him bewildered. For no man was less omniscient
than he. Like the Cabinet minister of recent fame, in the presence of
such _femmes fortes_, he might have honestly pleaded, _mutatis
mutandis_, "In these things I am a child."
Were these light-limbed, dark-eyed maidens under his eyes touched with
this new anarchy? They or their elders must know something about it.
There had been a Feminist congress lately at Trient--on the very site,
and among the ghosts of the great Council. Well, what could it bring
them? Was there anything so brief, so passing, if she did but know it,
as a woman's time for happiness? "_Beauty that must die_."
As the words recurred, some old anguish lying curled at his heart
raised its head and struck. He heard a voice--tremulously
sweet--"Mark!--dear Mark!--I'm not good enough--but I'll be to you all
a woman can."
_She_ had not played with life--or scorned it--or missed it. It was not
_her_ fault that she must put it from her.
In the midst of the crowd about him, he was no longer aware of it.
Still smoking mechanically, his eyelids had fallen over his eyes, as
his head rested against the wall.
He was interrupted by a voice which said in excellent though foreign
English--
"I beg your pardon, sir--I wonder if I might have that paper you are
standing on?"
He looked down astonished, and saw that he was trampling on the day's
_New York Herald_, which had fallen from a table near. With many
apologies he lifted it, smoothed it out, and presented it to the
elderly lady who had asked for it.
She looked at him through her spectacles with a pleasant smile.
"You don't find many English newspapers in these Tyrolese hotels?"
"No; but I provide myself. I get my _Times_ from home."
"Then, as an Englishman, you have all you want. But you seem to be
without it to-night?"
"It hasn't arrived. So I am reduced, as you see, to listening to the
music."
"You are not musical?"
"Well, I don't like this band anyway. It makes too much noise. Don't
you think it rather a nuisance?"
"No. It helps these people to talk," she said, in a crisp, cheerful
voice, looking round the room.
"But they don't want any help. Most of them talk by nature as fast as
the human tongue can go!"
"About nothing!" She shrugged her shoulders.
Winnington observed her more closely. She was, he guessed, somewhere
near | 1,425.48112 |
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Produced by David Widger
FIRST SERIES PLAYS
By John Galsworthy
JOY
A PLAY ON THE LETTER "I"
IN THREE ACTS
PERSONS OF THE PLAY
COLONEL HOPE, R.A., retired
MRS. HOPE, his wife
MISS BEECH, their old governess
LETTY, their daughter
ERNEST BLUNT, her husband
MRS. GWYN, their niece
JOY, her daughter
DICK MERTON, their young friend
HON. MAURICE LEVER, their guest
ROSE, their parlour-maid
TIME: The present. The action passes throughout midsummer day on the
lawn of Colonel Hope's house, near the Thames above Oxford.
ACT I
The time is morning, and the scene a level lawn, beyond which
the river is running amongst fields. A huge old beech tree
overshadows everything, in the darkness of whose hollow many
things are hidden. A rustic seat encircles it. A low wall
clothed in creepers, with two openings, divides this lawn from
the flowery approaches to the house. Close to the wall there is
a swing. The sky is clear and sunny. COLONEL HOPE is seated in
a garden-chair, reading a newspaper through pince-nez. He is
fifty-five and bald, with drooping grey moustaches and a
weather-darkened face. He wears a flannel suit and a hat from
Panama; a tennis racquet leans against his chair. MRS. HOPE
comes quickly through the opening of the wall, with roses in her
hands. She is going grey; she wears tan gauntlets, and no hat.
Her manner is decided, her voice emphatic, as though aware that
there is no nonsense in its owner's composition. Screened from
sight, MISS BEECH is seated behind the hollow tree; and JOY is
perched on a lower branch hidden by foliage.
MRS. HOPE. I told Molly in my letter that she'd have to walk up,
Tom.
COLONEL. Walk up in this heat? My dear, why didn't you order
Benson's fly?
MRS. HOPE. Expense for nothing! Bob can bring up her things in the
barrow. I've told Joy I won't have her going down to meet the train.
She's so excited about her mother's coming there's no doing anything
with her.
COLONEL. No wonder, after two months.
MRS. HOPE. Well, she's going home to-morrow; she must just keep
herself fresh for the dancing tonight. I'm not going to get people
in to dance, and have Joy worn out before they begin.
COLONEL. [Dropping his paper.] I don't like Molly's walking up.
MRS. HOPE. A great strong woman like Molly Gwyn! It isn't half a
mile.
COLONEL. I don't like it, Nell; it's not hospitable.
MRS. HOPE. Rubbish! If you want to throw away money, you must just
find some better investment than those wretched 3 per cents. of
yours. The greenflies are in my roses already! Did you ever see
anything so disgusting? [They bend over the roses they have grown,
and lose all sense of everything.] Where's the syringe? I saw you
mooning about with it last night, Tom.
COLONEL. [Uneasily.] Mooning!
[He retires behind his paper. MRS. HOPE enters the hollow of
the tree.]
There's an account of that West Australian swindle. Set of ruffians!
Listen to this, Nell! "It is understood that amongst the
share-holders are large numbers of women, clergymen, and Army officers."
How people can be such fools!
[Becoming aware that his absorption is unobserved, he drops his
glasses, and reverses his chair towards the tree.]
MRS. HOPE. [Reappearing with a garden syringe.] I simply won't have
Dick keep his fishing things in the tree; there's a whole potful of
disgusting worms. I can't touch them. You must go and take 'em out,
Tom.
[In his turn the COLONEL enters the hollow of the tree.]
MRS. HOPE. [Personally.] What on earth's the pleasure of it? I
can't see! He never catches anything worth eating.
[The COLONEL reappears with a paint pot full of worms; he holds
them out abstractedly.]
MRS. HOPE. [Jumping.] Don't put them near me!
MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] Don't hurt the poor creatures.
COLONEL. [Turning.] Hallo, Peachey? What are you doing round
there?
[He puts the worms down on the seat.]
MRS. HOPE. Tom, take the worms off that seat at once!
COL | 1,425.578674 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.5612530 | 1,359 | 16 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: There was a sudden blinding flash from the instruments
and a blaze of blue, hissing fire filled the room.]
THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND THE LOST LINER
BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS' SERIES," "THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS' SERIES,"
"THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1914
BY HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--AT SEA ONCE MORE
CHAPTER II--WIRELESS CONVERSATIONS
CHAPTER III--A STRANGE REQUEST
CHAPTER IV--A PECULIAR COINCIDENCE
CHAPTER V--THE INTERRUPTED MESSAGE
CHAPTER VI--A DARING FEAT
CHAPTER VII--QUARTERMASTER SCHULTZ VOLUNTEERS
CHAPTER VIII--SAFE ONCE MORE
CHAPTER IX--THE MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
CHAPTER X--A MESSAGE IN SECRET CODE
CHAPTER XI--WHAT SAM HEARD
CHAPTER XII--A SUDDEN ALARM
CHAPTER XIII--A DOSE OF SLEEPING POWDER
CHAPTER XIV--THE WINKING EYE
CHAPTER XV--SECRET SIGNALS AT DAWN
CHAPTER XVI--S. O. S.
CHAPTER XVII--A DERELICT OF THE SKIES
CHAPTER XVIII--A LEAP FOR A LIFE
CHAPTER XIX--A CALL IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER XX--TO THE RESCUE
CHAPTER XXI--A TALE OF THE SEA
CHAPTER XXII--A DECOY MESSAGE
CHAPTER XXIII--FALSE FRIENDSHIP
CHAPTER XXIV--KIDNAPPED
CHAPTER XXV--SAM, A TRUE FRIEND
CHAPTER XXVI--A WICKED PLAN
CHAPTER XXVII--IN THE LION'S MOUTH
CHAPTER XXVIII--A CLIMB FOR LIFE
CHAPTER XXIX--FREEDOM ONCE MORE
CHAPTER XXX--IN SEARCH FOR A CLEW
CHAPTER XXXI--LOOK FOR A WHITE HORSE
CHAPTER XXXII--A BOLD ROBBERY
CHAPTER XXXIII--JARROLD AGAIN
CHAPTER XXXIV--BAD NEWS FOR THE COLONEL
CHAPTER XXXV--JARROLD GETS FRANTIC
CHAPTER XXXVI--ADRIFT
CHAPTER XXXVII--THE IRONY OF FATE
CHAPTER XXXVIII--A BOLT FROM THE BLUE
CHAPTER XXXIX--JACK'S RADIO
CHAPTER XL--THE ANSWER TO THE WIRELESS CALL
CHAPTER I
AT SEA ONCE MORE
The West Indian liner, _Tropic Queen_, one of the great vessels owned by
the big shipping combine at whose head was Jacob Jukes, the New York
millionaire, was plunging southward through a rolling green sea about
two hundred miles to the east of Hatteras. It was evening and the bugle
had just sounded for dinner.
The decks were, therefore, deserted; the long rows of lounging chairs
were vacant, while the passengers, many of them tourists on pleasure
bent, were below in the dining saloon appeasing the keen appetites
engendered by the brisk wind that was blowing off shore.
In a small steel structure perched high on the boat deck, between the
two funnels of the _Tropic Queen_, sat a bright-faced lad reading
intently a text-book on Wireless Telegraphy. Although not much more than
a schoolboy, he was assistant wireless man of the _Queen_. His name was
Sam Smalley, and he had obtained his position on the ship--the crack
vessel of the West Indies and Panama line--through his chum, Jack Ready,
head operator of the craft.
To readers of the first volume of this series, "The Ocean Wireless Boys
on the Atlantic," Jack Ready needs no introduction.
Here he comes into the wireless room where his assistant sits reading in
front of the gleaming instruments and great coherers. Jack has been off
watch, lying down and taking a nap in the small sleeping cabin that,
equipped with two berths, opens off the wireless room proper, thus
dividing the steel structure into two parts.
"Hello, chief," said Sam Smalley, with a laugh, as Jack appeared; "glad
you're going to give me a chance to get to dinner at last. I'm so hungry
I could eat a coherer."
"Skip along then," grinned Jack; "but it's nothing unusual for you to be
hungry. I'll hold down the job till you get through, but leave something
for me."
"I'll try to," chuckled Sam, as he hurried down the steep flight of
steps leading from the wireless station up on the boat deck to the main
saloon.
"Well, this is certainly a different berth from the one I had on the old
_Ajax_," mused Jack, as he looked about him at the well-equipped
wireless room; "still, somehow, I like to look back at those days. But
yet this is a long step ahead for me. Chief wireless operator of the
_Tropic Queen_! Lucky for me that the uncle of the fellow who held down
the job before me left him all that money. Otherwise I might have been
booked for another cruise on the _Ajax_, although Mr. Jukes promised to
give me as rapid promotion as he could."
Readers of the first volume, dealing with Jack Ready and his friends,
will recall how he lived in a queer, floating home with his uncle, Cap'n
Toby. They will also recollect that Jack, who had studied wireless day
and night, was coming home late one afternoon, despondent from a
fruitless hunt for a job, when he was enabled to save the little
daughter of Mr. Jukes from drowning. The millionaire's gratitude was
deep, and Jack could have had anything he wanted from him.
All he asked, though, was a chance to demonstrate his | 1,425.581293 |
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E-text prepared by Henry Flower and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries (http://archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file
which includes the more than 400 original illustrations.
See 44014-h.htm or 44014-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44014/44014-h/44014-h.htm)
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44014/44014-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/antiqueworksofar00pittuoft
ANTIQUE WORKS OF ART FROM BENIN,
Collected by
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL PITT RIVERS,
D.C.L., F.R.S., F.S.A.
Inspector of Ancient Monuments in Great Britain, &c.
Printed Privately.
1900.
London:
Harrison and Sons, Printers in Ordinary to her Majesty,
St. Martin's Lane, W.C.
WORKS OF ART FROM BENIN,
WEST AFRICA.
OBTAINED BY THE PUNITIVE EXPEDITION IN 1897, AND NOW IN GENERAL PITT
RIVERS'S MUSEUM AT FARNHAM, DORSET.
Benin is situated on the Guinea Coast, near the mouth of the Niger, in
latitude 6.12 north, and longitude 5 to 6 east.
It was discovered by the Portuguese at the end of the fourteenth or
commencement of the fifteenth centuries. The Portuguese were followed
by the Dutch and Swedes, and in 1553 the first English expedition
arrived on the coast, and established a trade with the king, who
received them willingly.
Benin at that time appears by a Dutch narrative to have been quite
a large city, surrounded by a high wall, and having a broad street
through the centre. The people were comparatively civilized. The king
possessed a number of horses which have long since disappeared and
become unknown. Faulkner, in 1825, saw three solitary horses belonging
to the king, which he says no one was bold enough to ride.
In 1702 a Dutchman, named Nyendaeel, describes the city, and speaks
of the human sacrifices there. He says that the people were great
makers of ornamental brass work in his day, which they seem to have
learnt from the Portuguese. It was visited by Sir Richard Burton,
who went there to try to put a stop to human sacrifices, at the time
he was consul at Fernando Po. In 1892 it was visited by Captain H.
L. Galloway, who speaks of the city as possessing only the ruins of
its former greatness; the abolition of the slave trade had put a
stop to the prosperity of the place, and the king had prohibited any
intercourse with Europeans. The town had been reduced to a collection
of huts, and its trade had dwindled down to almost nil. The houses have
a sort of impluvium in the centre of the rooms, which has led some to
suppose that their style of architecture may have been derived from the
Roman colonies of North Africa.
In 1896 an expedition, consisting of some 250 men, with presents and
merchandise, left the British settlements on the coast, and endeavoured
to advance towards Benin city. The expedition was conducted with
courage and perseverance, but with the utmost rashness. Almost
unarmed, neglecting all ordinary precautions, contrary to the advice of
the neighbouring chiefs, and with the express prohibition of the King
of Benin to advance, they marched straight into an ambuscade which had
been prepared for them in the forest on each side of the road, and as
their revolvers were locked up in their boxes at the time, they were
massacred to a man with the exception of two, Captain Boisragon and
Mr. Locke, who, after suffering the utmost hardships, escaped to the
British settlements on the coast to tell the tale.
Within five weeks after the occurrence, a punitive expedition entered
Benin, on 18th January, 1897, and took the town. The king fled, but
was afterwards brought back and made to humiliate himself before his
conquerers, and his territory annexed to the British crown.
The city was found in a terrible state of bloodshed and disorder,
saturated with the blood of human sacrifices offered up to their Juju,
or religious rites and customs, for which the place had long been
recognised as the "city of blood."
What may be hereafter the advantages to trade resulting from this
expedition it is difficult to say, but the point of chief interest in
connection with the subject of this paper was the discovery, mostly in
the king's compound and the Juju houses, of numerous works of art in
brass, bronze, and ivory, which, as before stated, were mentioned by
the Dutchman, Van Nyendaeel, as having been constructed by the people
of Benin in 1700.
These antiquities were brought away by the members of the punitive
expedition and sold in London and elsewhere. Little or no account of
them could be given by the natives, and as the expedition was as usual
unaccompanied by any scientific explorer charged with the duty of
making inquiries upon matters of historic and antiquarian interest,
no reliable information about them could be obtained. They were found
buried and covered with blood, some of them having been used amongst
the apparatus of their Juju sacrifices.
A good collection of these antiquities, through the agency of Mr.
Charles Read, F.S.A., has found its way into the British Museum; others
no doubt have fallen into the hands of persons whose chief interest in
them has been as relics of a sensational and bloody episode, but their
real value consists in their representing a phase of art--and rather
an advanced stage--of which there is no actual record, although no
doubt we cannot be far wrong in attributing it to European influence,
probably that of the Portuguese some time in the sixteenth century.
A. P. R.
RUSHMORE, SALISBURY,
_April, 1900_.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE I.
Fig. 1.--Bronze plaque, representing two warriors with broad
leaf-shaped swords in their right hands. Coral or agate head-dress.
Coral chokers, badge of rank. Leopards' teeth necklace. Coral scarf
across shoulder. Leopards' heads hanging on left sides. Skirts each
ornamented with a human head. Armlets, anklets, etc. Ground ornamented
with the usual foil ornament incised.
Fig. 2.--Bronze plaque, representing two figures holding plaques or
books in front. Coral chokers, badge of rank. Reticulated head-dresses
of coral or agate, similar to that represented in Plate XXI, Fig. 121.
Barbed objects of unknown use behind left shoulders, ornamented with
straight line diaper pattern. Ground ornamented with foil ornaments
incised. Guilloche on sides of plaque.
Fig. 3.--Bronze plaque, representing three warriors, two with feathers
in head-dress and trefoil leaves at top; one with pot helmet, button
on top. The latter has a coral choker, badge of rank, and all have
leopards' teeth necklaces. The central figure has a cylindrical case on
shoulder. Two have hands on their sword-hilts. All three have leopards'
heads on breast, and quadrangular bells hanging from neck. Leopards'
skins and other objects hang on left sides. Ground ornamented with foil
ornaments incised.
Fig. 4.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior with spear in right hand,
shield on left shoulder. Head-dress of coral or agate, similar to that
represented in Plate XXI, Fig. 121. Quadrangular bell hanging from
neck. Chain-like anklets. Coral choker, badge of rank, and leopards'
teeth necklace. A nude attendant on right upholds a large broad
leaf-shaped sword, with a ring attached to pommel. Another holds two
sistri or bells fastened together by a chain. Small figure on left
is blowing an elephant's tusk trumpet. Figures above in profile are
holding up tablets or books. The dress of one of them is fastened with
tags or loops of unusual form. These figures have Roman noses, and are
evidently not <DW64>. Ground ornamented with the usual foil ornament
incised.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE II.
Figs. 5 and 6.--Bronze plaque, representing a warrior in centre,
turned to his left. He has a beard and a necklace of leopards' teeth,
but no coral choker. He has a high helmet, somewhat in the form of a
grenadier cap. Quadrangular bell on neck. Dagger in sheath on right
side, and various appurtenances hanging from his dress. He holds a
narrow leaf-shaped sword in his right hand over an enemy who has
fallen, and who has already a leaf-shaped sword thrust through his
body. The victim has a sword-sheath on left side, with broad end,
and a peculiar head-dress. His horse is represented below with an
attendant holding it by a chain and carrying barbed darts in his left
hand. On the right of the conqueror is a small figure blowing a tusk
trumpet, and on his right a larger figure carrying a shield in his left
hand and a cluster of weapons. He has a high helmet, ornamented with
representations of cowrie shells of nearly the same form as that of the
central figure. Above are two figures, one blowing what appears to be a
musical instrument and the other carrying a barbed pointed implement,
and armed with a sword in sheath similar to that of the fallen warrior.
The plaque appears to represent a victory of some kind, and all the
conquerors have the same high helmet. The ground is ornamented with the
usual foil ornament incised.
Figs. 7 and 8.--Bronze plaque, representing a king or noble on
horseback sitting sideways, his hands upheld by attendants, one of
whom has a long thin sword in his hand in sheath. Two attendants, with
helmets or hair represented by ribs, are holding up shields to shelter
the king from the sun. The king or noble has a coral choker, badge of
rank, with a coral necklace hanging on breast. Horse's head-collar hung
with crotals. A small attendant carries a "manilla" in his hand. The
two figures above are armed with bows and arrows. Ground ornamented
with foil ornaments incised.
De Bry, "India Orientalis," says that in the sixteenth century both
the king and chiefs were wont to ride side-saddle upon led horses.
They were supported by retainers, who held over their heads either
shields or umbrellas, and accompanied by a band of musicians playing
on ivory horns, gong-gongs, drums, harps, and a kind of rattle.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE III.
Fig. 9.--Bronze plaque, naked figure of boy; hair in conventional
bands; three tribal marks over each eye and band on forehead. Coral
choker, badge of rank. Armlets and anklets. Four rosettes on ground
and usual foil ornaments. De Bry says that all young people went naked
until marriage.
Fig. 10.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior with helmet or hair
represented by ribs. Leaf-shaped sword upheld in right hand. A bundle
of objects on head upheld by left hand. Object resembling a despatch
case on left side, fastened by a belt over right shoulder. Human mask
on left side. Four fishes on ground, and the usual foil ornaments
incised.
Figs. 11 and 12.--Bronze plaque, representing a figure holding a ball,
perhaps a cannon ball, in front. Coral choker, badge of rank. Three
tribal marks over each eye. Crest on head-dress, feather in cap. Skirt
wound up behind left shoulder. Skirt ornamented with a head and hands.
Four rosettes on ground, and usual foil ornaments incised. Guilloche on
sides of plaque.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE IV.
Fig. 13.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior, feather in cap; broad
leaf-shaped sword in right hand. Coral choker, badge of rank. Leopards'
teeth necklace. Coral sash; ground ornamented with leaf-shaped foil,
ornaments incised.
Figs. 14 and 15.--Bronze aegis or plaque, with representations of two
figures with staves in their right hands. Coral chokers, badge of rank.
On the breasts are two Maltese crosses hanging from the necks, which
appear to be European Orders. The objects held in left hands have been
broken off. The hats are similar to that on the head of the figure,
Fig. 91, Plate XV. Ground ornamented with the usual foil ornaments
incised.
Fig. 16.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior with pot helmet, button on
top. Coral choker, badge of rank, on neck. Leopards' teeth necklace.
Quadrangular bell on breast. Armlets, anklets, &c. Four rosettes on
ground, and the usual foil ornaments incised.
Fig. 17.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior with spear in right hand,
shield in left hand; pot helmet, button on top. Quadrangular bell
hanging from neck. Coral choker, badge of rank. Leopards' teeth
necklace. Leopard's skin dress with head to front. On the ground are
two horses' heads below and two rosettes above. Ground ornamented with
the usual foil ornaments incised.
Fig. 18.--Bronze plaque, figure of warrior. Peculiarly ornamented
head-dress. Coral choker, badge of rank. Leopards' teeth necklace.
Broad leaf-shaped sword in right hand. Coral sash on breast. Leopard's
mask hanging on left side. Armlets, anklets, &c. Small figure of boy,
naked, to right, holding a metal dish with lid in form of an ox's head.
A similar object may be seen amongst the Benin objects in the British
Museum.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE V.
Figs. 19, 20 and 21.--Stained ivory carving of figure on horse. Coral
choker; spear in right hand, the shaft broken. Tribal marks on forehead
incised. Chain-bridle or head-collar. Degenerate guilloche pattern on
base. Straight line diaper pattern represented in various parts. The
stand formed as a socket for a pole.
Figs. 22, 23 and 24.--Ivory carving of figure on horse, with spear in
right hand and bell on neck, and long hair. The bridle formed as a
head-collar. Degenerate guilloche pattern on base. The stand formed as
a socket for a pole ornamented with bands of interlaced pattern and the
head of an animal.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE VI.
Figs. 25 and 26.--Ivory carving of a human face. Eyes and bands on
forehead inlaid. Straight line diaper pattern on head-dress, above
which are conventionalised mud-fish. Four bands of coral across
forehead. Ears long and narrow. Found hidden in an oaken chest inside
the sleeping apartment of King Duboar.
Fig. 27.--Carved wooden panel, consisting of a chief in the centre;
broad leaf-shaped sword, with ring attached to pommel, upheld in right
hand, studded with copper nails, and ornamented with representations
of itself. In left hand a fan-shaped figure terminating in two hands.
Coral choker, badge of rank. Bell on neck and cross-belts. Skirt
ornamented with three heads and a guilloche pattern of three bands
with pellets. Anklets. Attendant on left holding umbrella over chief's
head. Serpent with human arm and hand in its mouth, head upwards;
eyes of inlaid glass; body studded with copper nails. Leopard, drawn
head upwards. On right, figure with jug in left hand and cup in right
hand, standing in a trough or open vessel. Small attendant with paddle
in right hand. At top a bottle bound with grass, and figure of some
object, perhaps a stone celt bound with grass. Brass and iron screws
are used for ornamentation in this carving. Guilloche pattern of two
bands without pellets around the edge of the panel.
Figs. 28, 29 and 30.--Ivory carved tusk, 4 feet 1 inch long from
bottom to point; traversed by five bands of interlaced strap-work. The
other ornamentation consists of:--Human figures with hands crossed on
breast; bird standing on pedestal; human figures with hands holding
sashes; trees growing downwards; a rosette; mudfish; crocodiles with
heads upwards; a serpent with sinuous body, head downwards; two
cups; a serpent, head upwards; detached human heads. Some of the
representations are so rude that it requires experience to understand
their meaning. On this tusk the interlaced pattern is the prevailing
ornament, and it passes into the guilloche pattern. This tusk is more
tastefully decorated than the other tusk, Figs. 167 and 168, Plate
XXVI, but with less variety in the carving. These carved tusks are said
to represent gods in the Ju-ju houses.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE VII.
Figs. 31 and 32.--Ivory carving of female. The design as rude as found
in any part of Africa. Necklet and armlets the same as on the bronze
figures.
Fig. 33.--Ivory cup, stained brown.
Fig. 34.--Bronze drinking cup, the same as represented in wood-carving,
Fig. 27, Plate VI.
Figs. 35 and 36.--Lion in bronze. The back is cut in a curved line, as
if adapting it as a foot to some object.
Fig. 37.--Bracelet of brass, somewhat twisted.
Fig. 38.--Bracelet of brass, with five projections set with agate.
Figs. 39 and 40.--Brass bracelet, with <DW64> heads of copper inlaid.
Mud-fish springing from nose on each side and turned up. Coral chokers,
badges of rank. The ring is decorated with incised floral ornaments.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE VIII.
Figs. 41 and 42.--Figure of a warrior in bronze, with leopard's skin
dress; javelins in one hand and shield in the other. Head-dress of
peculiar form, with feathers. Leopards' teeth necklace. Quadrangular
bell on breast.
Figs. 43 and 44.--Female figure in bronze, holding up a tablet in right
hand. Head-dress, necklace, &c., of coral or agate. Three tribal marks
over each eye.
Figs. 45 and 46.--Bronze vessel, somewhat in the form of a coffee-pot.
Handle at back, consisting of a snake with a sinuous body, head
downwards, holding a full-length human figure in its mouth. The spout
consists of a human figure, seated, with two tails; and the spout
springs out of the mouth between the teeth of the figure. Round the
swell of the vessel are four figures resembling frogs, the bodies
ornamented as human heads; nearly similar ornaments are seen on Mexican
stone carvings in this collection. The four feet resemble human feet
with anklets, all pointing to the front. The lid is ornamented with a
human figure seated and four masks, and is fastened to the pot by a
hinge.
Figs. 47 and 48.--Bracelet of bronze, ornamented with two rudely formed
human heads; some of the yellow earth of the mould appears to be
adhering to the interstices.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE IX.
Figs. 49 and 50.--Narrow armlet of brass, with a succession of animals
(? Lizards) in relief on the edge.
Figs. 51 and 52.--Bronze pointed dish on stand, with ribbed cover,
rabbetted. Use unknown; perhaps an European ecclesiastical utensil.
Figs. 53 to 55.--Head of a mace, ornamented with leopard and keepers
and heads in bas-relief; decorated with interlaced strap-work, with
brass inlaid in copper. The human heads are partly <DW64>, whilst others
from their straight hair appear to be white men, perhaps Arabs or
cross-breds. The mud-fish is represented one on each side. Described by
Mr. H. Ling Roth in "The Reliquary," Vol. IV, 1898, p. 162.
Figs. 56 and 57.--Bronze bottle or power flask, representing a female
with barbed arrow-points extending from both sides of the mouth;
perhaps symbolical; and holding a four-pronged instrument in the right
hand. Three tribal marks over each eye; coral necklace.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE X.
Figs. 58 and 59.--Leopard's mask head of brass, the pupils of the eyes
represented by a copper band. A band of copper inlaid along the nose
and forehead. A barbed figure on each cheek.
Figs. 60 and 61.--Leopard's mask head of brass, the pupils of the eyes
represented by bands. A barbed figure on each cheek. Eyelets along the
edges, perhaps to receive crotals as in Figs. 58 and 59.
Figs. 62 and 63.--Leopard's head in brass, the spots and pupils of eyes
in copper. This appears to have been attached with a leather thong to
the dress.
Figs. 64 and 65.--Bronze vase. The design appears to be purely native.
It is ornamented with four human masks, two of which are ribbed. There
are two elephants' heads with tusks, but no trunks over each ribbed
head. Four bands of plain guilloche pattern arranged vertically between
the heads. Concentric circles. Thickness of metal on unornamented
parts, 2 mm.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XI.
Figs. 66 to 72.--The historic mace of office of Duboar, late King of
Benin; 5 feet 4 inches long, and made of brass. This was found by
an officer of the expedition in the state apartment of the palaver
house, and was evidently left behind by the king's people on account
of its heavy weight, in their hurried exodus from Benin city; the
king is said to have since recognized this staff, and stated that it
had been handed down for many hundreds of years from king to king.
It has the representation of "Overami," or reigning monarch, on the
summit, dressed in the usual manner of Benin warriors. He is standing
on an elephant which has a proboscis terminating in a human hand. This
peculiarity is represented very often in the bronze antiquities of the
Benin country, and especially on the carved tusk, Figs. 167 and 168,
Plate XXVI, and must probably represent some great fetish; the present
race, on enquiries being made, could not elucidate this matter, so its
history must date back many ages. This elephant is in turn supported
by the usual two royal leopards. The monarch holds in his right hand
his chief ju-ju, which never leaves him night or day; in his left
hand he holds a neolithic or stone axe head, edge upwards, which are
looked up to by the natives even now with great awe and superstition.
The interior of the upper part of the mace is hollow, having a piece
of metal inside, formed like a long crotal, and was used as a bell
to keep order. The broad leaf-shaped swords and the execution swords
are depicted in several places over the mace. It is ornamented with
guilloche pattern of two and three bands with intervening pellets.
Part of the mace is ornamented in imitation of twine binding. Near the
foot of the staff is the figure of another elephant with proboscis
terminating in a human hand, holding a plant like a prickly-pear.
Beneath the elephant are two human figures, with Maltese crosses on
breasts, axes in left hands, and sticks in right. Below this are two
axes hafted in serpents' heads, which have human hands in their mouths
and sinuous bodies. Crocodile, head downwards, and two interlaced
mud-fish.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XII.
Figs. 73 to 75.--Three triangular brass bells. Fig. 73 has a <DW64> head
in relief on the front and fish-scale pattern.
Fig. 74 has the eyes, nose and mouth of a human face only.
Fig. 75 has a spiral in place of a face.
Figs. 76 to 78.--Sistrum in brass, representing two cups, the lower
one ornamented with a figure holding a ball. The upper figures on each
side represent a king with the arms upheld by attendants on both sides;
on one side the attendants are kneeling. A hand holding a plaque or
book is represented on each side. Crotals are attached to the sistrum
on both sides. A stand in form of a socket to fit a pole and a band
ornamented with interlaced strap-work. This object appears certainly to
be a sistrum, as human figures are shown in some of the plaques holding
them in their hands and striking them with a rod to produce a sound.
A similar instrument in iron, modern, is figured by Mr. Ling Roth, in
"The Reliquary," Vol. IV, 1898, p. 165, from the Yoruba country.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XIII.
Figs. 79 to 81.--Figure of a warrior on horseback. Spear in right
hand, the blade having an ogee corrugated section, similar to those
used in all parts of Africa where metal blades are used. The edges of
the blade are bent over by rough usage, which makes it look like a
spoon. The duct for the metal runs from the head of the horse. Darts
in left hand. The ends of the spear and darts are bent inwards, as if
by rough usage. The chain halter is similar to those seen on other
horses and is used as a bridle, held by the little finger of the left
hand. A circular shield, similar to the one in this collection (Plate
XVIII, Fig. 102), though differently decorated, is slung on the left
side over the thigh. The spurs attached to the legs have four points
arranged horizontally. The figure has a leopard's skin on front and
back, ornamented with representations of cowrie shells. The coat and
collar bordered with interlaced strap-work. Dagger on right side.
Crown, apparently of feathers, on head. Base ornamented with interlaced
strap-work or guilloche pattern. The horse is fairly well formed.
The hair conventionalized in straight lines. The face is that of a
<DW64>.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XIV.
Figs. 82 and 83.--Well-formed bronze head of a negress. Reticulated
head-dress of agate or coral. Coral necklace. Pendant of agate on
centre of forehead. The pupils of the eyes inlaid apparently with iron.
The upper lip has been inlaid probably with brass. Eleven bands of
coral or agate hang from the head-dress on each side. Well-formed ears.
This and Figs. 88 and 89, Plate XV, and Figs. 98 and 99, Plate XVII,
are the best formed heads in the collection.
Figs. 84 and 85.--Bronze figure firing a gun, probably representing an
European, with beard, presenting a flint-lock gun. The barrel of the
gun is broken off at the left hand. European morion of the sixteenth
century on head, ornamented with interlaced strap-work. Sword or
cutlass with European guard and a flint-lock pistol slung on left
side. On the right side, a dagger. Armour ornamented with strap-work
or interlaced work. On the pedestal are represented two flint-lock
pistols, a cross-bow, a three-pronged spear, two figures holding guns
and interlaced strap-work.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XV.
Figs. 86 and 87.--Brass head inlaid with a copper band along the nose.
The pupils of the eyes inlaid with iron. Reticulated head-dress of
coral or agate. Three tribal marks over each eye. Conventionalized
mud-fish in a frill around neck.
Figs. 88 and 89.--Well-formed head in bronze, the forehead decorated
with two inlaid bands and four raised tribal marks over each eye. The
pupils of the eyes inlaid apparently with iron. Coral necklace. The
hair in conventional bands of ridges; the ears unusually well formed.
Figs. 90 and 91.--Human figure standing in bronze. <DW64> features.
Three tribal marks over each eye. Curved lines of circles and
hatchings above and below the eyes. Three radiating lines branching
from the corners of the mouth. Pot helmet, with brim and reticulated
ornamentation. The ears are very rudely formed. An object somewhat
resembling a key or axe in the left hand. There appears to have been
a staff or pole in the right hand. A cross with equal arms hangs on
the breast by a chain, apparently resembling a religious order. The
skirt only slightly tucked up on left side, ornamented with a guilloche
pattern of two bands. A rough cast. This figure is very similar to
Figs. 293 and 294, Plate XXXVIII.
Figs. 92 and 93.--Female, in bronze, with staff in left hand. Skirt
ornamented with three bands of guilloche pattern. Head-dress of coral
or agate. Coral choker, and tribal marks.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XVI.
Figs. 94 and 95.--Bronze cast of human head. <DW64> features. Three
tribal marks over each eye. Pupils of eyes inlaid with iron.
Reticulated head-dress and rosettes of coral or agate, similar to that
represented in Plate XXI, Fig. 121. Coral choker, badge of rank. Twelve
bands of coral and a band apparently of plaited hair hanging from
head-dress on each side.
Figs. 96 and 97.--Human head in brass. Marked <DW64> features, tattoed
with dots and hatchings above and below the eyes. Branch-like figures,
perhaps coral, growing out of the eyes. Three tribal marks over each
eye. Pupils of eyes inlaid with iron. Reticulated head-dress and
rosettes, of coral or agate, similar to those represented in Plate XXI,
Fig. 121. Peculiar figures on each side of the head-dress, perhaps
representing feathers. Coral choker, badge of rank. Bands of coral or
agate hang down from the head-dress at the sides and back of the head.
On the projecting base are represented two leopards, an ox's head, and
other animals, four arms and hands, and a neolithic celt in front.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XVII.
Figs. 98 and 99.--Well-formed head in bronze, the forehead decorated
with two inlaid bands and four raised cicatrices (tribal marks) over
each eye. The pupils of the eyes inlaid apparently with iron, coral
necklace, a badge of rank. The metal is very thin, being only 1 mm. in
thickness. The hair in conventional bands of ridges; the ears unusually
well formed.
Figs. 100 and 101.--Bronze cast of human head. Marked <DW64> features,
rudely formed. Three tribal marks over each eye. Peculiar pointed
reticulated head-dress of coral or agate. Curious lines of incised
circles above and below the eyes. Coral choker, badge of rank. Bands of
coral or agate hanging down on both sides and at the back. Ears badly
formed. The projecting base ornamented with a guilloche pattern of two
bands with pellets.
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XVIII.
Fig. 102.--Brass shield, 2 feet in diameter and.08 inch in thickness,
ornamented with three concentric rings. The outer one represents a row
of leopards, with human heads and head-dresses alternating. A broad
leaf-shaped sword, similar to Fig. 106, and two execution swords,
similar to Fig. 110, are also represented on this ring. The middle
ring is ornamented with a serpent with sinuous body, having its tail
in its mouth. The inner ring is filled with foil ornaments, and small
circles cover both this and the outer ring. There is a square hole in
the centre for the attachment of the handle. The shield resembles that
slung on the left hip of the mounted warrior, Figs. 79 to 81, Plate
XIII, but with different ornamentation.
Fig. 103.--Iron dart, or spear, 5 feet 1 inch long, with wooden shaft.
The blade is leaf-shaped with socket, and is rudely forged.
Fig. 104.--Iron dart, 3 feet 7-1/4 inches | 1,425.585261 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
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[Frontispiece: The Muzzle of a Revolver was Covering Him]
THE WAY OF THE STRONG
By RIDGWELL CULLUM
Author of "The Twins of Suffering Creek," "The Night Riders," "The One
Way Trail," Etc.
With Four Illustrations by
DOUGLAS DUER
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
114-120 East Twenty-third Street -- New York
Published by Arrangement with George W. Jacobs & Company
Copyright, 1914, By
George W. Jacobs & Company
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAP.
I ON SIXTY-MILE CREEK
II THE ROOF OF THE NORTHERN WORLD
III THE DRIVING FORCE
IV LEO
V THE SHADOW OF DEATH
VI ALL-MASTERING PASSION
VII DEAD FIRES
VIII SI-WASH CHUCKLES
IX IN SAN SABATANO
X A PROMISE
XI TWO STRANGERS IN SAN SABATANO
PART II
I AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS
II ALEXANDER HENDRIE
III THE PENALTY
IV THE BLINDING FIRES
V IN THE SPRINGTIME
VI LIFE THROUGH OTHER EYES
VII HAPPY DAYS
VIII ANGUS HEARS SOME TALK
IX THE WHEAT TRUST
X MONICA'S FALSE STEP
XI WHICH DEALS WITH A CHANCE MEETING
XII THE CLEAN SLATE
XIII HENDRIE'S RETURN
XIV A MAN'S HELL
XV PROGRESS OF AFFAIRS
XVI IN THE MOONLIGHT
XVII PAYING THE PRICE
XVIII A MAN'S HONOR
XIX THE RETURN OF ALEXANDER HENDRIE
XX THE VERDICT
PART III
I THE MARCH OF TIME
II WHEN VOWS MUST YIELD
III TWO LETTERS
IV ON THE RAILROAD
V A YOUNG GIRL'S PURPOSE
VI IN TORONTO
VII THE DECISION
VIII THE SHADOW OF WAR
IX CAPITAL AND LABOR
X STRIKE TROUBLES SPREADING
XI LEYBURN'S INSPIRATION
XII HENDRIE SELLS
XIII FRANK LEARNS HIS DUTY
XIV THE STRIKE
XV PHYLLIS GOES IN SEARCH OF FRANK
XVI THE DAWN OF HOPE
XVII A RAID
XVIII HIS BACK TO THE WALL
XIX TWO MEN
XX THE STORY OF LEO
XXI HENDRIE'S WAY
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE MUZZLE OF A REVOLVER WAS COVERING HIM...... _Frontispiece_
THEN CAME HER ARRIVAL AT DEEP WILLOWS
THE MAN LEAPED FROM HIS SEAT AND FACED ABOUT
PHYLLIS CAUGHT HIS HANDS AND HELD THEM TIGHTLY
THE WAY OF THE STRONG
PART I
CHAPTER I
ON SIXTY-MILE CREEK
It was a grim, gray day; a day which plainly told of the passing of
late fall across the border line of the fierce northern winter. Six
inches of snow had fallen during the night, and the leaden overcast of
the sky threatened many more inches yet to fall.
Five great sled dogs crouched in their harness, with quarters tucked
under them and forelegs outspread. They were waiting the long familiar
command to "mush"; an order they had not heard since the previous
winter.
Their brief summer leisure had passed, lost beneath the white pall
which told of weary toil awaiting them in the immediate future. Unlike
the humans with whom they were associated, however, the coming winter
held no terrors for them. It was the normal condition under which the
sled dog performed its life's work.
The load on the sled was nearing completion. The tough-looking,
keen-eyed man bestowed his chattels with a care and skill which told of
long experience, and a profound knowledge of the country through which
he had to travel. Silently he passed back and forth between the sled
and the weather-battered shelter which had been his home for more than
three years. His moccasined feet gave out no sound; his voice was
silent under the purpose which occupied all his thought. He was leaving
the desert heart of the Yukon to face the perils of the winter trail.
He was about to embark for the storm-riven shores of the Alaskan coast.
A young woman stood silently by, watching his labors with the voiceless
interest of those who live the drear life of silent places. Her
interest was consuming, as her handsome brown eyes told. Her strong,
young heart was full of a profound envy; and a sort of despairing
longing came near to filling her eyes with unaccustomed tears. The
terrors of this man's journey would have been small enough for her if
only she could get out of this wilderness of desolation to which she
had willingly condemned herself.
Her heart ached, and her despair grew as she watched. But she knew only
too well that her limitless prison was of her own seeking, as was her
sharing of the sordid lot of the man she had elected to follow. More
than that she knew that the sentence she had passed upon herself
carried with it the terror of coming motherhood in the midst of this
desolate world, far from the reach of help, far from the companionship
of her sex.
At last the man paused, surveying his work. He tested the raw-hide
bonds which held his load; he glanced at the space still left clear in
the sled, with measuring eye, and stood raking at his beard with
powerful, unclean fingers. It was this pause that drove the woman's
crowding feelings to sudden speech.
"Heavens, how I wish I were going with you, Tug!" she cried.
The man lifted his sharp eyes questioningly.
"Do you, Audie?" he said, in a metallic voice, in which there was no
softening. Then he shook his head. "It'll be a hell of a trip. Guess
I'd change places with you readily enough."
"You would?" the girl laughed mirthlessly. "You're going down with a
big 'wad' of gold to--to a land of--plenty. Oh, God, how I hate this
wilderness!"
The man called Tug surveyed her for a moment with eyes long since
hardened by the merciless struggle of the cruel Yukon world. Then he
shook his head.
"It sounds good when you put it that way. But there's miles to go
before I reach the 'land of | 1,425.675468 |
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[Illustration: "THE DAM IS GONE!" CRIED THE GIRL. "FLY FOR YOUR LIVES!"
_Page 7._]
The
Blue Grass Seminary Girls'
Vacation Adventures
OR
Shirley Willing to the Rescue
By Carolyn Judson Burnett
AUTHOR OF
"The Blue Grass Seminary Girls' Christmas Holidays,"
"The Blue Grass Seminary Girls in the Mountains,"
"The Blue Grass Seminary
Girls on the Water."
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1916
By A. L. Burt Company
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS' VACATION ADVENTURES
THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS' VACATION ADVENTURES
CHAPTER I.--THE BROKEN DAM.
"The dam! The dam! The dam has broken!"
Shirley Willing, with flaming eyes and tightly-clenched hands, jumped
quickly forward, and with her right hand seized the bridle of a horse
that was bearing a strange boy along the road, which ran near the river.
The horse reared back on its haunches, frightened at the sudden halting.
"The dam!" cried the young girl again. "Quick! The people must be
warned!"
The face of the rider turned white.
"What do you mean?" he shouted, fear stamped on every feature.
Shirley's excitement fell from her like a cloak. She became quiet.
"The Darret dam has been washed away," she answered, "and unless the
people in the valley are warned immediately they will perish. There is
one chance to save them. You are mounted. You can outrun the oncoming
wall of water and save them. Away with you, quick! There is not a second
to spare!"
"But," protested the boy, "the water may overtake me and I shall drown.
We can climb to higher ground here and be safe."
He tried to turn his horse's head to the east. But Shirley clung to the
rein.
"And leave those people to drown, without warning?" she cried. "You
coward! You are afraid!"
"I----" the boy began, but Shirley cut his protest short.
Releasing the bridle of the horse, she sprang quickly to the side of the
animal, seized the rider by the leg with both her strong, young hands
and pulled quickly and vigorously. Unprepared for such action, the boy
came tumbling to the ground in a sprawling heap.
Quick as a flash Shirley leaped to the saddle and turned the horse's
head toward the valley. As she dug her heels into the animal's ribs,
sending him forward with a jump, she called over her shoulder to the
boy, who sat still dazed at the sudden danger:
"Get to safety the best way you can, you coward!"
Under the firm touch of the girl's hand on the rein the horse sped on
down the valley.
It was a mad race with death and Shirley knew it. But she realized that
human lives were at stake and she did not hesitate.
To the left of the road down which she sped lay high ground and safety,
while coming down the valley, perhaps a mile in the rear, poured a dense
wall of water, coming as swift as the wind.
For days the Mississippi and its tributaries had been rising rapidly and
steadily. Along the lowlands in that part of the state of Illinois, just
south of Cairo, where Shirley Willing had been visiting friends, fears
that the Darret dam, three miles up one of these tributary streams,
would give way, had been entertained.
Some families, therefore, had moved their perishable belongings to
higher ground, where they would be beyond the sweep of the waters should
the dam break.
Then suddenly, without warning, the dam had gone.
The home where Shirley had been visiting was a farmhouse, and the cry of
danger had been received by telephone. Those in the house had been asked
to repeat the warning to families further down the valley. But the
fierce wind that was raging had, at almost that very moment, blown down
all wires.
Shirley, in spite of the fact that she, with the others, could easily
have reached the safety afforded by higher ground a short distance away,
had thought only of those whose lives would be snuffed out if they were
not warned.
She had decided that she would warn them herself. She ran from the house
to the stable, where one single horse had been left.
But the seriousness of the situation seemed to have been carried to the
animal, and when Shirley had attempted to slip a bridle over his head he
struck out violently with his fore feet. As the girl sprang back, he
dashed from the stable.
Shirley ran after him and followed him into the road. There she
encountered a rider; and the conversation with which this story begins
took place.
As the girl sped down the road, she could hear from far behind, the roar
of the waters as they came tumbling after her.
A farmhouse came into sight. A man, a woman and several children came
out, attracted by the galloping hoofbeats. Without checking the speed of
her mount a single instant, Shirley guided the horse close to | 1,425.680033 |
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THE MENTOR 1916.03.01, No. 102,
Chinese Rugs
LEARN ONE THING
EVERY DAY
MARCH 1 1916 SERIAL NO. 102
THE
MENTOR
[Illustration: A RUG OF MIXED DESIGNS
The Center Is a Faded Magenta Red.
The Border Ground Is Pale Yellow]
CHINESE RUGS
By JOHN K. MUMFORD
Author and Expert on Oriental Rugs
DEPARTMENT OF VOLUME 4
FINE ARTS NUMBER 2
FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY
A Thing of Beauty
No word in the language is more abused than “beauty.” A pretty thing is
a thing of _beauty_; a pretty picture is a picture of _beauty_; and so
following. Lacking a proper descriptive term for anything attractive,
we, too often, employ the word “beauty.” What term have we then with
which to pay just tribute to true beauty?
* * * * *
The real, final test of beauty is that it _wears well_--not in a
material way, but in the qualities that are truly beautiful. The rose
is fragile material and its life is brief, but rose beauty is lasting
and rose fragrance clings sweetly to the memory--so that the rose has
become a synonym of beauty. The message of true beauty is enduring and,
oft repeated, grows in charm. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”
* * * * *
A distinguishing attribute of true beauty is _authority_. A thing of
beauty bears on its very forefront the stamp of authority. It does
not plead for recognition--it commands it. The snow-capped summit at
sundown, the Madonna face on a master’s canvas, the poet’s “lofty
rhyme,” the fragrant flower, the harmonious symphony, the “frozen
music” of architecture--the countless varied forms of beauty in nature,
art and life ask no favor nor do they play to the fancy of the moment.
Created in intelligence, sincerity and truth, and inspired by lofty
devotion, they compel a lasting homage.
[Illustration: PLATE I
LOANED BY MR. CARLL TUCKER
ANTIQUE CHINESE RUG]
CHINESE RUGS
ANTIQUE CHINESE RUG
Monograph Number One in The Mentor Reading Course
Length, nine feet nine inches.
Width, five feet five inches.
Forty-two hand-tied knots to the square inch.
This attractive rug is representative of a very admirable class of
Chinese floor fabrics, and illustrates in the clearest manner some
interesting and important features in the rug weaving art of China.
The knottage, as will be learned from the specification above, is
not great. A Mohammedan sedjadeh with only 42 knots to the square
inch would be held | 1,425.681958 |
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Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, 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 O'RUDDY
_A ROMANCE_
BY
STEPHEN CRANE
_Author of "The Red Badge of Courage," "Active
Service," "Wounds in the Rain," etc._
AND
ROBERT BARR
_Author of "Tekla," "In the Midst of Alarms,"
"Over the Border," "The Victors," etc._
_With frontispiece by_
C. D. WILLIAMS
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1903,_
BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
* * * * *
THE O'RUDDY
CHAPTER I
My chieftain ancestors had lived at Glandore for many centuries and
were very well known. Hardly a ship could pass the Old Head of Kinsale
without some boats putting off to exchange the time of day with her,
and our family name was on men's tongues in half the seaports of
Europe, I dare say. My ancestors lived in castles which were like
churches stuck on end, and they drank the best of everything amid the
joyous cries of a devoted peasantry. But the good time passed away
soon enough, and when I had reached the age of eighteen we had nobody
on the land but a few fisher-folk and small farmers, people who were
almost law-abiding, and my father came to die more from disappointment
than from any other cause. Before the end he sent for me to come to
his bedside.
"Tom," he said, "I brought you into existence, and God help you safe
out of it; for you are not the kind of man ever to turn your hand to
work, and there is only enough money to last a gentleman five more
years.
"The 'Martha Bixby,' she was, out of Bristol for the West Indies, and
if it hadn't been for her we would never have got along this far with
plenty to eat and drink. However, I leave you, besides the money, the
two swords,--the grand one that King Louis, God bless him, gave me,
and the plain one that will really be of use to you if you get into a
disturbance. Then here is the most important matter of all. Here are
some papers which young Lord Strepp gave me to hold for him when we
were comrades in France. I don't know what they are, having had very
little time for reading during my life, but do you return them to him.
He is now the great Earl of Westport, and he lives in London in a
grand house, I hear. In the last campaign in France I had to lend him
a pair of breeches or he would have gone bare. These papers are
important to him, and he may reward you, but do not you depend on it,
for you may get the back of his hand. I have not seen him for years. I
am glad I had you taught to read. They read considerably in England, I
hear. There is one more cask of the best brandy remaining, and I
recommend you to leave for England as soon as it is finished. And now,
one more thing, my lad, never be civil to a king's officer. Wherever
you see a red coat, depend there is a rogue between the front and the
back of it. I have said everything. Push the bottle near me."
Three weeks after my father's burial I resolved to set out, with no
more words, to deliver the papers to the Earl of Westport. I was
resolved to be prompt in obeying my father's command, for I was
extremely anxious to see the world, and my feet would hardly wait for
me. I put my estate into the hands of old Mickey Clancy, and told him
not to trouble the tenants too much over the rent, or they probably
would split his skull for him. And I bid Father Donovan look out for
old Mickey Clancy, that he stole from me only what was reasonable.
I went to the Cove of Cork and took ship there for Bristol, and
arrived safely after a passage amid great storms which blew us so near
Glandore that I feared the enterprise of my own peasantry. Bristol, I
confess, frightened me greatly. I had not imagined such a huge and
teeming place. All the ships in the world seemed to lie there, and the
quays were thick with sailor-men. The streets rang with noise. I
suddenly found that I was a young gentleman from the country.
I followed my luggage to the best inn, and it was very splendid, fit
to be a bishop's palace. It was filled with handsomely dressed people
who all seemed to be yelling, "Landlord! landlord!" And there was a
little fat man in a white apron who flew about as if he were being
stung by bees, and he was crying, "Coming, sir! Yes, madam! At once,
your ludship!" They heeded me no more than if I had been an empty
glass. I stood on one leg, waiting until the little fat man should
either wear himself out or attend all the people. But it was to no
purpose. He did not wear out, nor did his business finish, so finally
I was obliged to plant myself in his way, but my speech was decent
enough as I asked him for a chamber. Would you believe it, he stopped
abruptly and stared at me with sudden suspicion. My speech had been so
civil that he had thought perhaps I was a rogue. I only give you this
incident to show that if later I came to bellow like a bull with the
best of them, it was only through the necessity of proving to
strangers that I was a gentleman. I soon learned to enter an inn as a
drunken soldier goes through the breach into a surrendering city.
Having made myself as presentable as possible, I came down from my
chamber to seek some supper. The supper-room was ablaze with light and
well filled with persons of quality, to judge from the noise that they
were making. My seat was next to a garrulous man in plum-colour, who
seemed to know the affairs of the entire world. As I dropped into my
chair he was saying--
"--the heir to the title, of course. Young Lord Strepp. That is
he--the slim youth with light hair. Oh, of course, all in shipping.
The Earl must own twenty sail that trade from Bristol. He is posting
down from London, by the way, to-night."
You can well imagine how these words excited me. I half arose from my
chair with the idea of going at once to the young man who had been
indicated as Lord Strepp, and informing him of my errand, but I had a
sudden feeling of timidity, a feeling that it was necessary to be
proper with these people of high degree. I kept my seat, resolving to
accost him directly after supper. I studied him with interest. He was
a young man of about twenty years, with fair unpowdered hair and a
face ruddy from a life in the open air. He looked generous and kindly,
but just at the moment he was damning a waiter in language that would
have set fire to a stone bridge. Opposite him was a clear-eyed
soldierly man of about forty, whom I had heard called "Colonel," and
at the Colonel's right was a proud, dark-skinned man who kept looking
in all directions to make sure that people regarded him, seated thus
with a lord.
They had drunk eight bottles of port, and in those days eight bottles
could just put three gentlemen in pleasant humour. As the ninth bottle
came on the table the Colonel cried--
"Come, Strepp, tell us that story of how your father lost his papers.
Gad, that's a good story."
"No, no," said the young lord. "It isn't a good story, and besides my
father never tells it at all. I misdoubt it's truth."
The Colonel pounded the table. "'Tis true. 'Tis too good a story to be
false. You know the story, Forister?" said he, turning to the
dark-skinned man. The latter shook his head.
"Well, when the Earl was a young man serving with the French he rather
recklessly carried with him some valuable papers relating to some
estates in the North, and once the noble Earl--or Lord Strepp as he
was then--found it necessary, after fording a stream, to hang his
breeches on a bush to dry, and then a certain blackguard of a wild
Irishman in the corps came along and stole--"
But I had arisen and called loudly but with dignity up the long table,
"That, sir, is a lie." The room came still with a bang, if I may be
allowed that expression. Every one gaped at me, and the Colonel's face
slowly went the colour of a tiled roof.
"My father never stole his lordship's breeches, for the good reason
that at the time his lordship had no breeches. 'Twas the other way. My
father--"
Here the two long rows of faces lining the room crackled for a moment,
and then every man burst into a thunderous laugh. But I had flung to
the winds my timidity of a new country, and I was not to be put down
by these clowns.
"'Tis a lie against an honourable man and my father," I shouted. "And
if my father hadn't provided his lordship with breeches, he would have
gone bare, and there's the truth. And," said I, staring at the
Colonel, "I give the lie again. We are never obliged to give it twice
in my country."
The Colonel had been grinning a little, no doubt thinking, along with
everybody else in the room, that I was drunk or crazy; but this last
twist took the smile off his face clean enough, and he came to his
feet with a bound. I awaited him. But young Lord Strepp and Forister
grabbed him and began to argue. At the same time there came down upon
me such a deluge of waiters and pot-boys, and, may be, hostlers, that
I couldn't have done anything if I had been an elephant. They were
frightened out of their wits and painfully respectful, but all the
same and all the time they were bundling me toward the door. "Sir!
Sir! Sir! I beg you, sir! Think of the 'ouse, sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!" And
I found myself out in the hall.
Here I addressed them calmly. "Loose me and takes yourselves off
quickly, lest I grow angry and break some dozen of these wooden
heads." They took me at my word and vanished like ghosts. Then the
landlord came bleating, but I merely told him that I wanted to go to
my chamber, and if anybody inquired for me I wished him conducted up
at once.
In my chamber I had not long to wait. Presently there were steps in
the corridor and a knock at my door. At my bidding the door opened and
Lord Strepp entered. I arose and we bowed. He was embarrassed and
rather dubious.
"Aw," he began, "I come, sir, from Colonel Royale, who begs to be
informed who he has had the honour of offending, sir?"
"'Tis not a question for your father's son, my lord," I answered
bluntly at last.
"You are, then, the son of The O'Ruddy?"
"No," said I. "I am The O'Ruddy. My father died a month gone and
more."
"Oh!" said he. And I now saw why he was embarrassed. He had feared
from the beginning that I was altogether too much in the right. "Oh!"
said he again. I made up my mind that he was a good lad. "That is
dif--" he began awkwardly. "I mean, Mr. O'Ruddy--oh, damn it all, you
know what I mean, Mr. O'Ruddy!"
I bowed. "Perfectly, my lord!" I did not understand him, of course.
"I shall have the honour to inform Colonel Royale that Mr. O'Ruddy is
entitled to every consideration," he said more collectedly. "If Mr.
O'Ruddy will have the goodness to await me here?"
"Yes, my lord." He was going in order to tell the Colonel that I was a
gentleman. And of course he returned quickly with the news. But he did
not look as if the message was one which he could deliver with a glib
tongue. "Sir," he began, and then halted. I could but courteously
wait. "Sir, Colonel Royale bids me say that he is shocked to find that
he has carelessly and publicly inflicted an insult upon an unknown
gentleman through the memory of the gentleman's dead father. Colonel
Royale bids me to say, sir, that he is overwhelmed with regret, and
that far from taking an initial step himself it is his duty to express
to you his feeling that his movements should coincide with any
arrangements you may choose to make."
I was obliged to be silent for a considerable period in order to
gather head and tail of this marvellous sentence. At last I caught it.
"At daybreak I shall walk abroad," I replied, "and I have no doubt
that Colonel Royale will be good enough to accompany me. I know
nothing of Bristol. Any cleared space will serve."
My Lord Strepp bowed until he almost knocked his forehead on the
floor. "You are most amiable, Mr. O'Ruddy. You of course will give me
the name of some friend to whom I can refer minor matters?"
I found that I could lie in England as readily as ever I did in
Ireland. "My friend will be on the ground with me, my lord; and as he
also is a very amiable man it will not take two minutes to make
everything clear and fair." Me, with not a friend in the world but
Father O'Donovan and Mickey Clancy at Glandore!
Lord Strepp bowed again, the same as before. "Until the morning then,
Mr. O'Ruddy," he said, and left me.
I sat me down on my bed to think. In truth I was much puzzled and
amazed. These gentlemen were actually reasonable and were behaving
like men of heart. Neither my books nor my father's stories--great
lies, many of them, God rest him!--had taught me that the duelling
gentry could think at all, and I was quite certain that they never
tried. "You were looking at me, sir?" "Was I, 'faith? Well, if I care
to look at you I shall look at you." And then away they would go at
it, prodding at each other's bellies until somebody's flesh swallowed
a foot of steel. "Sir, I do not like the colour of your coat!" Clash!
"Sir, red hair always offends me." Cling! "Sir, your fondness for
rabbit-pie is not polite." Clang!
However, the minds of young Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale seemed to
be capable of a process which may be termed human reflection. It was
plain that the Colonel did not like the situation at all, and perhaps
considered himself the victim of a peculiarly exasperating combination
of circumstances. That an Irishman should turn up in Bristol and give
him the lie over a French pair of breeches must have seemed
astonishing to him, notably when he learned that the Irishman was
quite correct, having in fact a clear title to speak authoritatively
upon the matter of the breeches. And when Lord Strepp learned that I
was The O'Ruddy he saw clearly that the Colonel was in the wrong, and
that I had a perfect right to resent the insult to my father's memory.
And so the Colonel probably said: "Look you, Strepp. I have no desire
to kill this young gentleman, because I insulted his father's name. It
is out of all decency. And do you go to him this second time and see
what may be done in the matter of avoidance. But, mark you, if he
expresses any wishes, you of course offer immediate accommodation. I
will not wrong him twice." And so up came my Lord Strepp and hemmed
and hawed in that way which puzzled me. A pair of thoughtful,
honourable fellows, these, and I admired them greatly.
There was now no reason why I should keep my chamber, since if I now
met even the Colonel himself there would be no brawling; only bows. I
was not, indeed, fond of these latter,--replying to Lord Strepp had
almost broken my back; but, any how, more bows were better than more
loud words and another downpour of waiters and pot-boys.
But I had reckoned without the dark-skinned man, Forister. When I
arrived in the lower corridor and was passing through it on my way to
take the air, I found a large group of excited people talking of the
quarrel and the duel that was to be fought at daybreak. I thought it
was a great hubbub over a very small thing, but it seems that the
mainspring of the excitement was the tongue of this black Forister.
"Why, the Irish run naked through their native forests," he was
crying. "Their sole weapon is the great knotted club, with which,
however, they do not hesitate, when in great numbers, to attack lions
and tigers. But how can this barbarian face the sword of an officer of
His Majesty's army?"
Some in the group espied my approach, and there was a nudging of
elbows. There was a general display of agitation, and I marvelled at
the way in which many made it to appear that they had not formed part
of the group at all. Only Forister was cool and insolent. He stared
full at me and grinned, showing very white teeth. "Swords are very
different from clubs, great knotted clubs," he said with admirable
deliberation.
"Even so," rejoined I gravely. "Swords are for gentlemen, while clubs
are to clout | 1,425.777012 |
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[Illustration: NOMAHANNA,
QUEEN OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.]
_London. Published by Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley. 1839._
A
NEW VOYAGE
ROUND
THE WORLD,
IN THE YEARS 1823, 24, 25, AND 26.
BY OTTO VON KOTZEBUE,
POST CAPTAIN IN THE RUSSIAN IMPERIAL NAVY.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1830.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY.
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME
Page
KAMTSCHATKA 1
NEW-ARCHANGEL 27
CALIFORNIA, AND THE NEW RUSSIAN SETTLEMENT, ROSS 69
THE SANDWICH ISLANDS 151
THE PESCADORES, RIMSKI-KORSAKOFF, ESCHSCHOLTZ, AND BRONUS ISLANDS 267
THE LADRONES AND PHILIPPINES 279
ST. HELENA 305
ZOOLOGICAL APPENDIX BY PROFESSOR ESCHSCHOLTZ 323
LIST OF PLATES.
Page
Reception of Captain Kotzebue at the Island of Otdia,
To face Title of Vol. I.
Plan of Mattaway Bay and Village 200
Chart of the Navigators' Islands 250
Chart of the Islands of Radak and Ralik 288
Nomahanna, Queen of the Sandwich Islands,
To face Title of Vol. II.
KAMTSCHATKA.
KAMTSCHATKA.
The wind, which continued favourable to us as far as the Northern
Tropic, was succeeded by a calm that lasted twelve days. The ocean, as
far as the eye could reach, was as smooth as a mirror, and the heat
almost insupportable. Sailors only can fully understand the
disagreeableness of this situation. The activity usual on shipboard gave
place to the most wearisome idleness. Every one was impatient; some of
the men felt assured that we should never have a wind again, and wished
for the most violent storm as a change.
One morning we had the amusement of watching two great sword-fish
sunning themselves on the surface of the water. I sent out a boat, in
the hope that the powerful creatures would, in complaisance, allow us
the sport of harpooning them, but they would not wait; they plunged
again into the depths of the sea, and we had disturbed their enjoyments
in vain.
Our water-machine was several times let down, even to the depth of a
thousand fathoms: on the surface, the temperature was 24 deg., and at
this depth, only 2 deg. of Reaumur.
On the 22nd of May, the anniversary of our frigate's leaving Stopel, we
got a fresh easterly wind, which carried us forward pretty quickly on
the still smooth surface of the sea.
On the 1st of June, when in latitude 42 deg. and longitude 201 deg., and
consequently opposite the coast of Japan, we descried a red stripe in
the water, about a mile long and a fathom broad. In passing over it we
drew up a pail-full, and found that its colour was occasioned by an
infinite number of crabs, so small as to be scarcely distinguishable by
the naked eye.
We now began daily to experience increasing inconveniences from the
Northern climate. The sky, hitherto so serene, became gloomy and covered
with storm-clouds, which seldom threatened in vain; we were, besides,
enveloped in almost perpetual mists, bounding our prospect to a few
fathoms. In a short time, the temperature of the air had fallen from 24
deg. to 3 deg. So sudden a change is always disagreeable, and often
dangerous. We had to thank the skill and attention of our physician,
Dr. Siegwald, that it did not prove so to us. Such rough weather is not
common to the latitude we were in at that season; but it is peculiar to
the Japanese coast even in summer. Whales and storm-birds showed
themselves in great numbers, reminding us that we were hastening to the
North, and were already far from the luxuriant groves of the South-Sea
islands.
The wind continued so favourable, that on the 7th of June we could
already see the high mountains of Kamtschatka in their winter clothing.
Their jagged summits reaching to the heavens, crested with everlasting
snow, which glitters in the sunbeams, while their declivities are begirt
with clouds, give a magnificent aspect to this coast. On the following
day, we reached Awatscha Bay, and in the evening anchored in the harbour
of St. Peter and St. Paul.
The great peninsula of Kamtschatka, stretching to the river Anadir on
the North, and South to the Kurilian Islands, bathed on the east by the
ocean, and on the west by the sea of Ochotsk, is, like many men, better
than its reputation. It is supposed to be the roughest and most desolate
corner of the world, and yet it lies under the same latitude as England
and Scotland, and is equal in size to both. The summer is indeed much
shorter, but it is also much finer; and the vegetation is more luxuriant
than in Great Britain. The winter lasts long, and its discomforts are
increased by the quantity of snow that falls; but in the southern parts
the cold is moderate; and experience has repeatedly refuted the
erroneous opinion, that on account of its long duration, and the
consequent curtailment of the summer season, corn cannot be
efficaciously cultivated here.
Although the snow lies in some of the valleys till the end of May,
because the high, over-shadowing mountains intercept the warm sunbeams,
yet garden-plants prosper. Potatoes generally yield a triple crop, and
would perfectly supply the want of bread, if the inhabitants cultivated
them more diligently: but the easier mode of providing fish in
super-abundance as winter food, has induced them to neglect the labour
of raising potatoes, although they have known years when the fishery has
barely protected them from famine.
The winter, as I have already said, is very unpleasant, from the heavy
snows, which, drifting from the mountains, often bury the houses, so
that the inhabitants are compelled to dig a passage out, while the
cattle walk on its frozen surface over their roofs.
Travelling in this season is very rapid and convenient. The usual mode
is in sledges drawn by six or more dogs. The only danger is from
snow-storms. The traveller, surprised by this sudden visitation, has no
chance for safety except in quietly allowing himself and his dogs to be
buried in the snow, and relieving himself from his covering when the
storm is past. This, however, is not always practicable; should the
storm, or, as it is called here, "purga," overtake him in the ravine of
a mountain, such an immense quantity of snow becomes heaped upon him,
that he has no power to extricate himself from his tomb. These
accidents, however, seldom occur; for the Kamtschatkans have acquired
of necessity great foresight in meteorology, and of course never
undertake a journey when they do not consider themselves sure of the
weather.
The principal reason why the climate of Kamtschatka is inferior to that
of other places under the same latitude, is to be found in the
configuration of the country. The mountains of England, for instance,
are of a very moderate height, and broken by extensive plains; here, on
the contrary, intersected only by a few valleys of small extent, a
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ESSAYS: SCIENTIFIC, POLITICAL, & SPECULATIVE.
BY
HERBERT SPENCER.
LIBRARY EDITION,
(OTHERWISE FIFTH THOUSAND,)
_Containing Seven Essays not before Republished,
and various other additions_.
VOL. III.
WILLIAMS AND NORGATE,
14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON;
AND 20, SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH.
1891.
LONDON:
G. NORMAN AND SON, PRINTERS, HART STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
PAGE
MANNERS AND FASHION 1
RAILWAY MORALS AND RAILWAY POLICY 52
THE MORALS OF TRADE 113
PRISON-ETHICS 152
THE ETHICS OF KANT 192
ABSOLUTE POLITICAL ETHICS 217
OVER-LEGISLATION 229
REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT—WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR? 283
STATE-TAMPERINGS WITH MONEY AND BANKS 326
PARLIAMENTARY REFORM: THE DANGERS AND THE SAFEGUARDS 358
“THE COLLECTIVE WISDOM” 387
POLITICAL FETICHISM 393
SPECIALIZED ADMINISTRATION 401
FROM FREEDOM TO BONDAGE 445
THE AMERICANS 471
THE INDEX.
{1}
MANNERS AND FASHION.
[_First published in_ The Westminster Review _for April 1854_.]
Whoever has studied the physiognomy of political meetings, cannot
fail to have remarked a connexion between democratic opinions and
peculiarities of costume. At a Chartist demonstration, a lecture
on Socialism, or a _soirée_ of the Friends of Italy, there will be
seen many among the audience, and a still larger ratio among the
speakers, who get themselves up in a style more or less unusual.
One gentleman on the platform divides his hair down the centre,
instead of on one side; another brushes it back off the forehead, in
the fashion known as “bringing out the intellect;” a third has so
long forsworn the scissors, that his locks sweep his shoulders. A
sprinkling of moustaches may be observed; here and there an imperial;
and occasionally some courageous breaker of conventions exhibits a
full-grown beard.[1] This nonconformity in hair is countenanced by
various nonconformities in dress, shown by others of the assemblage.
Bare necks, shirt-collars _à la_ Byron, waistcoats cut Quaker fashion,
wonderfully shaggy great coats, numerous oddities in form and
colour, destroy the monotony usual in crowds. Even those exhibiting
no conspicuous peculiarity, frequently indicate by something in the
pattern of their clothes, that they pay small regard to what their {2}
tailors tell them about the prevailing taste. And when the gathering
breaks up, the varieties of head gear displayed—the number of caps,
and the abundance of felt hats—suffice to prove that were the world at
large like-minded, the black cylinders which tyrannize over us would
soon be deposed.
[1] This was written before moustaches and beards had become general.
This relationship between political discontent and disregard of
customs exists on the Continent also. Red republicanism is everywhere
distinguished by its hirsuteness. The authorities of Prussia, Austria,
and Italy, alike recognize certain forms of hat as indicative of
disaffection, and fulminate against them accordingly. In some places
the wearer of a blouse runs a risk of being classed among the
_suspects_; and in others, he who would avoid the bureau of police,
must beware how he goes out in any but the ordinary colours. Thus,
democracy abroad, as at home, tends towards personal singularity.
Nor is this association of characteristics peculiar to modern times,
or to reformers of the State. It has always existed; and it has been
manifested as much in religious agitations as in political ones. The | 1,425.778754 |
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E-text prepared by Robert Shimmin, Greg Alethoup, Keith Edkins, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 27600-h.htm or 27600-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/7/6/0/27600/27600-h/27600-h.htm)
or
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Transcriber's note
A few typographical errors have been corrected: they are
listed at the end of the text.
ZOONOMIA;
OR,
THE LAWS
OF
ORGANIC LIFE.
VOL. II.
_By ERASMUS DARWIN, M.D. F.R.S._
AUTHOR OF THE BOTANIC GARDEN.
Principio coelum, ac terras, camposque liquentes,
Lucentemque globum lunae, titaniaque astra,
Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.--VIRG. Aen. vi.
Earth, on whose lap a thousand nations tread,
And Ocean, brooding his prolific bed,
Night's changeful orb, blue pole, and silvery zones,
Where other worlds encircle other suns,
One Mind inhabits, one diffusive Soul
Wields the large limbs, and mingles with the whole.
London:
Printed for. J. Johnson, in St. Paul's Church-Yard.
1796.
Entered at Stationers' Hall.
ZOONOMIA;
OR,
THE LAWS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
PART II.
CONTAINING
A CATALOGUE OF DISEASES
DISTRIBUTED INTO
NATURAL CLASSES ACCORDING TO THEIR PROXIMATE CAUSES,
WITH THEIR
SUBSEQUENT ORDERS, GENERA, AND SPECIES,
AND WITH
THEIR METHODS OF CURE.
* * * * *
Haec, ut potero, explicabo; nec tamen, quasi Pythius Apollo, certa ut
sint et fixa, quae dixero; sed ut Homunculus unus e multis probabiliora
conjectura sequens.--CIC. TUSC. DISP. l. 1. 9.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
All diseases originate in the exuberance, deficiency, or retrograde action,
of the faculties of the sensorium, as their proximate cause; and consist in
the disordered motions of the fibres of the body, as the proximate effect
of the exertions of those disordered faculties.
The sensorium possesses four distinct powers, or faculties, which are
occasionally exerted, and produce all the motions of the fibrous parts of
the body; these are the faculties of producing fibrous motions in
consequence of irritation which is excited by external bodies; in
consequence of sensation which is excited by pleasure or pain; in
consequence of volition which is excited by desire or aversion; and in
consequence of association which is excited by other fibrous motions. We
are hence supplied with four natural classes of diseases derived from their
proximate causes; which we shall term those of irritation, those of
sensation, those of volition, and those of association.
In the subsequent classification of diseases I have not adhered to the
methods of any of those, who have preceded me; the principal of whom are
the great names of Sauvages and Cullen; but have nevertheless availed
myself, as much as I could, of their definitions and distinctions.
The essential characteristic of a disease consists in its proximate cause,
as is well observed by Doctor Cullen, in his Nosologia Methodica, T. ii.
Prolegom. p. xxix. Similitudo quidem morborum in similitudine causae eorum
proximae, qualiscunque sit, revera consistit. I have taken the proximate
cause for the classic character. The characters of the orders are taken
from the excess, or deficiency, or retrograde action, or other properties
of the proximate cause. The genus is generally derived from the proximate
effect. And the species generally from the locality of the disease in the
system.
Many species in this system are termed genera in the systems of other
writers; and the species of those writers are in consequence here termed
varieties. Thus in Dr. Cullen's Nosologia the variola or small-pox is
termed a genus, and the distinct and confluent kinds are termed species.
But as the infection from the distinct kind frequently produces the
confluent kind, and that of the confluent kind frequently produces the
distinct; it would seem more analogous to botanical arrangement, which
these nosologists profess to imitate, to call the distinct and confluent
small-pox varieties than species. Because the species of plants in
botanical systems propagate others similar to themselves; which does not
uniformly occur in such vegetable productions as are termed varieties.
In some other genera of nosologists the species have no analogy to each
other, either in respect to their proximate cause, or to their proximate
effect, though they may he somewhat similar in less essential properties;
thus the thin and saline discharge from the nostrils on going into the cold
air of a frosty morning, which is owing to the deficient action of the
absorbent vessels of the nostrils, is one species; and the viscid mucus
discharged from the secerning vessels of the same membrane, when inflamed,
is another species of the same genus, Catarrhus. Which bear no analogy
either in respect to their immediate cause or to their immediate effect.
The uses of the method here offered to the public of classing diseases
according to their proximate causes are, first, more distinctly to
understand their nature by comparing their essential properties. Secondly,
to facilitate the knowledge of the methods of cure; since in natural
classification of diseases the species of each genus, and indeed the genera
of each order, a few perhaps excepted, require the same general medical
treatment. And lastly, to discover the nature and the name of any disease
previously unknown to the physician; which I am persuaded will be more
readily and more certainly done by this natural system, than by the
artificial classifications already published.
The common names of diseases are not well adapted to any kind of
classification, and least of all to this from their proximate causes. Some
of their names in common language are taken from the remote cause, as
worms, stone of the bladder; others from the remote effect, as diarrhoea,
salivation, hydrocephalus; others from some accidental symptom of the
disease, as tooth-ach, head-ach, heart-burn; in which the pain is only a
concomitant circumstance of the excess or deficiency of fibrous actions,
and not the cause of them. Others again are taken from the deformity
occasioned in consequence of the unnatural fibrous motions, which
constitute diseases, as tumours, eruptions, extenuations; all these
therefore improperly give names to diseases; and some difficulty is thus
occasioned to the reader in endeavouring to discover to what class such
disorders belong.
Another difficulty attending the names of diseases is, that one name
frequently includes more than one disease, either existing at the same time
or in succession. Thus the pain of the bowels from worms is caused by the
increased action of the membrane from the stimulus of those animals; but
the convulsions, which sometimes succeed these pains in children, are
caused by the consequent volition, and belong to another class.
To discover under what class any disease should be arranged, we must first
investigate the proximate cause; thus the pain of the tooth-ach is not the
cause of any diseased motions, but the effect; the tooth-ach therefore does
not belong to the class of Sensation. As the pain is caused by increased or
decreased action of the membranes of the tooth, and these actions are owing
to the increase or decrease of irritation, the disease is to be placed in
the class of irritation.
To discover the order it must be inquired, whether the pain be owing to
increased or defective motion of the pained membrane; which is known by the
concomitant heat or coldness of the part. In tooth-ach without inflammation
there is generally a coldness attends the cheek in its vicinity; as may be
perceived by the hand of the patient himself, compared with the opposite
cheek. Hence odontalgia is found to belong to the order of decreased
irritation. The genus and species must be found by inspecting the synopsis
of the second order of the class of Irritation. See Class I. 2. 4. 12.
This may be further elucidated by considering the natural operation of
parturition; the pain is occasioned by the increased action or distention
of the vessels of the uterus, in consequence of the stimulus of the fetus;
and is therefore caused by increased irritation; but the action of the
abdominal muscles in its exclusion are caused by the pain, and belong to
the class of increased sensation. See Class II. 1. 1. 12. Hence the
difficulty of determining, under what class of diseases parturition should
be arranged, consists in there being two kinds of diseased actions
comprehended under one word; which have each their different proximate
cause.
In Sect. XXXIX. 8. 4. and in Class II. 1. | 1,425.877037 |
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BRIDGE AXIOMS AND LAWS
WITH THE CHANGE THE SUIT CALL
REVISED AND EXPLAINED
BY
J. B. ELWELL
_Author of "Elwell on Bridge," "Advanced Bridge," "Bridge Tournament
Hands," "Bridge Lessons," etc._
[Illustration: spade symbol]
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
1907
_Copyright_, 1907
BY E. P. DUTTON & CO.
_The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A._
[Illustration: Bridge Axioms]
We not for you our ink on axioms spend, They're but harmless barbs
directed at your friend.
BRIDGE AXIOMS
The best Bridge players are undoubtedly those who can draw inferences
quickly and correctly.
* * * * *
Observation is an art enabling one to discover what other people's play
conceals--as well as reveals.
* * * * *
Observation always infers, and one inference will lead to another.
* * * * *
Each card played speaks through its silence, and its language must be
understood.
* * * * *
To converse intelligently through the medium of the cards, each must be
seen as it falls with eyes that grasp its meaning.
* * * * *
Failure to note the play of a card is not lack of memory, but lack of
heed.
* * * * *
Situations are kaleidoscopic and constant, and success may only be
achieved by being perpetually alert to note them.
* * * * *
All time at Bridge should be devoted earnestly to what confronts a
player, not to what is past.
* * * * *
It is better not to play at all, than to play without earnestness.
* * * * *
One careful game is worth any number of slipshod, careless efforts
which are disconcerting to your partner, and the delight of your
adversaries.
* * * * *
Bridge abounds with situations which must be learned.
* * * * *
Promptness in making a conclusion is a mental inspiration as well as an
aid to expeditious play.
* * * * *
Hap-hazard play, first from one suit and then from another, will not
induce a successful campaign in Bridge.
* * * * *
Haste and waste are anti-types in Bridge, as they are in everything.
* * * * *
To improve your Bridge, theory and practice must go hand in hand.
Bridge is a game of which much is learned through the mistakes made and
heeded.
* * * * *
Do not fail to profit in future games by the mistakes that you discover
in present play.
* * * * *
When you see clever plays that are new to you, analyse the motives that
underlie them.
* * * * *
The soundest play will sometimes lose, and the worst will sometimes win.
* * * * *
Uniform good play, no matter what the luck may be, will ultimately
triumph over bad play.
* * * * *
Tricks heedlessly lost mar the successful enjoyment of Bridge.
That you happily did not lose on a hand, is no palliation for the bad
play of which you may have been guilty.
* * * * *
Do not overlook the tricks which may be gained by the use of a little
card strategy.
* * * * *
Memory is simply a matter of observation and practice.
* * * * *
Careful Bridge cultivates memory.
* * * * *
What is done with a hand cannot be undone.
* * * * *
A successful partnership game must be based on perfect faith and
confidence between partners.
Combined play in Bridge is absolutely essential to success.
* | 1,425.880552 |
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THE WHITE TERROR AND THE RED
THE WHITE TERROR
AND
THE RED
A Novel of Revolutionary Russia
BY
A. CAHAN
Author of "Yekl" and "The Imported Bridegroom."
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
A. S. BARNES & COMPANY
1905
Copyright, 190 | 1,425.885325 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.9573210 | 672 | 8 |
Produced by Heiko Evermann 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.)
Transcriber's notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
* * * * *
THE SABBATH.
A PAPER
READ AT THE
CONFERENCE OF THE EVANGELICAL ALLIANCE,
HELD AT GENEVA, SEPTEMBER 2. 1861.
BY ANDREW THOMSON, D.D.,
EDINBURGH.
WITH PREFACE BY
THE REV J. C. RYLE, B.A., CHRIST CH., OXFORD,
STRADBROKE, SUFFOLK.
430th Thousand.
LONDON:
JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET.
EDINBURGH: ANDREW ELLIOT, 15 PRINCE'S STREET.
AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1863.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY JOHN GREIG & SON.
PREFATORY NOTE BY REV. J. C. RYLE.
I have been requested, as an English Clergyman, to preface Dr A.
Thomson's valuable paper on the Scottish Sabbath by a few recommendatory
words. I comply with the request with much pleasure, though I feel that
the paper needs no _imprimatur_ of mine.
I am sensible, however, that there exists a certain amount of prejudice
in many English minds against Scottish views of the Sabbath question.
Too many Christians south of the Tweed are in the habit of regarding our
northern brethren as "legal," "Judaizing," and "extreme" upon this
subject. In the matter of all the leading Evangelical doctrines, they
profess to admire their statements. In the matter of the Sabbath
question, they say the Scotch "go too far."
I venture to think that this prejudice is not just. It is in fact a
thorough "prejudice," a judgment passed without examination, a prejudged
decision without any reasonable foundation. I believe that Scottish
views of the Sabbath are scriptural, reasonable, and practical. As a
proof of my assertion, I earnestly request the attention of English
Christians to the following paper. My own firm conviction is, that, in
the matter of Sabbath observance, Scotland has nothing to be ashamed of
in her principles, and England has much to learn.
I can only say that the paper which I have undertaken to preface appears
to me to deserve a wide circulation and an attentive perusal. That it is
written in a Scotch style, and is consequently not so well suited to our
uneducated classes as a more popular and less argumentative production,
are facts which I do not pretend to deny. But there are myriads of
hard-headed, thinking English readers in the middle and upper sections
of the lower classes--myriads of tradesmen in our great cities, and
assist | 1,425.977361 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.9574010 | 480 | 9 | SNOWS***
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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Images of the original pages are available through
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https://archive.org/details/fromparistopeki00meig
FROM PARIS TO PEKIN OVER SIBERIAN SNOWS.
[Illustration: THE MONASTERY OF TROITSA.
[_Frontispiece._]
FROM PARIS TO PEKIN OVER SIBERIAN SNOWS.
A Narrative of a Journey by Sledge over the Snows of European
Russia and Siberia, by Caravan Through Mongolia,
Across the Gobi Desert and the Great Wall,
and by Mule Palanquin Through
China to Pekin.
by
VICTOR MEIGNAN,
Edited from the French by William Conn.
With supplementary notes not contained in the original edition.
[Illustration]
With a Map and Numerous Illustrations from
Sketches by the Author and Others.
London:
W. Swan Sonnenschein and Co.,
Paternoster Square.
1885.
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Limited, London and Aylesbury.
PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
Embarrassed readers, who delight in books of travel, whether for the
recreation or the useful information they afford, are not relieved of
their difficulty when the title of the work, instead of indicating
the nature of the subject, only presents an enigma for them to solve.
How, for instance, is the reader to gauge the nature of the contents
of “Voyage en Zigzag?” It might mean the itinerary of some crooked
course among the Alps, or, perhaps, the log-book of a yacht chopping
about the Channel, or the record of anything but a straightforward
jour | 1,425.977441 |
2023-11-16 18:40:49.9583290 | 918 | 31 |
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 41397-h.htm or 41397-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41397/41397-h/41397-h.htm)
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41397/41397-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/unclewaltwaltma00maso
UNCLE WALT
[Illustration: To George Matthew Adams
From his Accomplice Walt Mason]
UNCLE WALT
[WALT MASON]
[Illustration]
The Poet Philosopher
Chicago
George Matthew Adams
1910
Copyright, 1910, by George Matthew Adams.
Registered in Canada in accordance with
the copyright law. Entered at Stationers'
Hall, London. All rights reserved.
Contents
A Glance at History 17
Longfellow 18
In Politics 19
The Human Head 20
The Universal Help 21
Little Sunbeam 22
The Flag 23
Doc Jonnesco 24
Little Girl 25
The Landlady 26
Twilight Reveries 27
King and Kid 28
Little Green Tents 29
Geronimo Aloft 31
The Venerable Excuse 32
Silver Threads 33
The Poet Balks 34
The Penny Saved 35
Home Life 36
Eagles and Hens 37
The Sunday Paper 38
The Nation's Hope 39
Football 40
Health Food 41
Physical Culture 43
The Nine Kings 44
The Eyes of Lincoln 45
The Better Land 46
Knowledge Is Power 47
The Pie Eaters 48
The Sexton's Inn 49
He Who Forgets 50
Poor Father 51
The Idle Question 52
Politeness 53
Little Pilgrims 55
The Wooden Indian 56
Home and Mother 57
E. Phillips Oppenheim 58
Better than Boodle 59
The Famous Four 60
Niagara 61
A Rainy Night 62
The Wireless 63
Helpful Mr. Bok 64
Beryl's Boudoir 65
Post-Mortem Honors 67
After A While 68
Pretty Good Schemes 69
Knowledge by Mail 70
Duke and Plumber 71
Human Hands 72
The Lost Pipe 73
Thanksgiving 74
Sir Walter Raleigh 75
The Country Editor 76
Useless Griefs 77
Fairbanks' Whiskers 78
Letting It Alone 79
The End of the Road 80
The Dying Fisherman 81
George Meredith 82
The Smart Children 83
The Journey 85
Times Have Changed 86
My Little Dog "Dot" 87
Harry Thurston Peck 88
Tired Man's Sleep 89
Tomorrow 90
Toothache 91
Auf Wiedersehen 92
After the Game 93
Nero's Fiddle 94
The Real Terror 95
The Talksmiths 96
Woman's Progress 97
The Magic Mirror 99
The Misfit Face 100
A Dog Story 101
The Pitch | 1,425.978369 |
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MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XIV AND HIS COURT AND OF THE REGENCY
BY THE DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON
VOLUME 14
CHAPTER CV
For a long time a species of war had been declared between the King of
England and his son, the Prince of Wales, which had caused much scandal;
and which had enlisted the Court on one side, and made much stir in the
Parliament. George had more than once broken out with indecency against
his son; he had long since driven him from the palace, and would not see
him. He had so cut down his income that he could scarcely subsist. The
father never could endure this son, because he did not believe him to be
his own. He had more than suspected the Duchess, his wife, to be in
relations with Count Konigsmarck. He surprised him one morning leaving
her chamber; threw him into a hot oven, and shut up his wife in a chateau
for the rest of her days. The Prince of Wales, who found himself ill-
treated for a cause of which he was personally innocent, had always borne
with impatience the presence of his mother and the aversion of his
father. The Princess of Wales, who had much sense, intelligence, grace,
and art, had softened things as much as possible; and the King was unable
to refuse her his esteem, or avoid loving her. She had conciliated all
England; and her Court, always large, boasted of the presence of the most
accredited and the most distinguished persons. The Prince of Wales
feeling his strength, no longer studied his father, and blamed the
ministers with words that at least alarmed them. They feared the credit
of the Princess of Wales; feared lest they should be attacked by the
Parliament, which often indulges in this pleasure. These considerations
became more and more pressing as they discovered what was brewing against
them; plans such as would necessarily have rebounded upon the King. They
communicated their fears to him, and indeed tried to make it up with his
son, on certain conditions, through the medium of the Princess of Wales,
who, on her side, felt all the consciousness of sustaining a party
against the King, and who always had sincerely desired peace in the royal
family. She profited by this conjuncture; made use of the ascendency she
had over her husband, and the reconciliation was concluded. The King
gave a large sum to the Prince of Wales, and consented to see him. The
ministers were saved, and all appeared forgotten.
The excess to which things had been carried between father and son had
not only kept the entire nation attentive to the intestine disorders
ready to arise, but had made a great stir all over Europe; each power
tried to blow this fire into a blaze, or to stifle it according as
interest suggested. The Archbishop of Cambrai, whom I shall continue to
call the Abbe Dubois, was just then very anxiously looking out for his
cardinal's hat, which he was to obtain through the favour of England,
acting upon that of the Emperor with the Court of Rome. Dubois,
overjoyed at the reconciliation which had taken place, wished to show
this in a striking manner, in order to pay his court to the King of
England. He named, therefore, the Duc de la Force to go to England, and
compliment King George on the happy event that had occurred.
The demonstration of joy that had been resolved on in France was soon
known in England. George, annoyed by the stir that his domestic
squabbles had made throughout all Europe, did not wish to see it
prolonged by the sensation that this solemn envoy would cause. He begged
the Regent, therefore, not to send him one. As the scheme had been
determined on only order to please him, the journey of the Duc de la
Force was abandoned almost as soon as declared. Dubois had the double
credit, with the King of England, of having arranged this demonstration
of joy, and of giving it up; in both cases solely for the purpose of
pleasing his Britannic Majesty.
Towards the end of this year, 1720, the Duc de Brissac married Mlle.
Pecoil, a very rich heiress, whose father was a'maitre des requetes',
and whose mother was daughter of Le Gendre, a very wealthy merchant of
Rouen. The father of Mlle. Pecoil was a citizen of Lyons, a wholesale
dealer, and extremely avaricious. He had a large iron safe, or strong-
box, filled with money, in a cellar, shut in by an iron door, with a
secret lock, and to arrive at which other doors had to be passed through.
He disappeared so long one day, that his wife and two or three valets or
servants that he had sought him everywhere. They well knew that he had a
hiding-place, because they had sometimes seen him descending into his
cellar, flat-candlestick in hand, but no one had ever dared to follow
him.
Wondering what had become of him, they descended to the cellar, broke
open the doors, and found at last the iron one. They were obliged to
send for workmen to break it open, by attacking the wall in which it was
fixed. After much labour they entered, and found the old miser dead in
his strong-box, the secret spring of which he had apparently not been
able to find, after having locked himself in; a horrible end in every
respect.
The Brissacs have not been very particular in their alliances for some
time, and yet appear no richer. The gold flies away; the dross remains.
I had almost forgotten to say that in the last day of this year, 1720, a
Prince of Wales was born at Rome.
The Prince was immediately baptised by the Bishop; of Montefiascone, and
named Charles. The event caused a great stir in the Holy City. The Pope
sent his compliments to their Britannic Majesties, and forwarded to the
King of England (the Pretender) 10,000 Roman crowns, gave him, for his
life, a country house at Albano, which until then, he had only lent him,
and 2000 crowns to furnish it. A Te Deum was sung in the chapel of the
Pope, in his presence, and there were rejoicings at Rome. When the Queen
of England was able to see company, Cardinal Tanora came in state, as
representative of the Sacred College, to congratulate her.
The birth of the Prince also made much stir at the Court of England, and
among the priests and Jacobites of that country. For very different
reasons, not only the Catholics and Protestants, enemies of the
government, were ravished at it, but nearly all the three realms showed
as much joy as they dared; not from any attachment to the dethroned
house, but for the satisfaction of seeing a line continue with which they
could always menace and oppose their kings and the royal family.
[Illustration: Jacobites Drinking To The Pretender--Painted by F. Willems--1208]
In France we were afraid to show any public feeling upon the event. We
were too much in the hands of England; the Regent and Dubois too much the
humble servants of the house of Hanover; Dubois especially, waiting, as
he was, so anxiously for his cardinal's hat. He did not, as will be
seen, have to wait much longer.
The new Pope had given, in writing, a promise to Dubois, that if elected
to the chair of St. Peter he would make him cardinal. Time had flown,
and the promise was not yet | 1,425.981376 |
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The Secret Doctrine
The Synthesis of Science, Religion, and Philosophy
By
Helena Petrovna Blavatsky
Author of "Isis Unveiled."
Third and Revised Edition.
SATYAT NASTI PARO DHARMAH.
"There is no Religion higher than Truth."
Volume III.
The Theosophical Publishing House
London
1897
CONTENTS
Preface.
Introductory.
Section I. Preliminary Survey.
Section II. Modern Criticism and the Ancients.
Section III. The Origin of Magic.
Section IV. The Secresy of Initiates.
Section V. Some Reasons for Secresy.
Section VI. The Dangers of Practical Magic.
Section VII. Old Wine in New Bottles.
Section VIII. The Book of Enoch the Origin and the Foundation of
Christianity.
Section IX. Hermetic and Kabalistic Doctrines.
Section X. Various Occult Systems of Interpretations of Alphabets and
Numerals.
Section XI. The Hexagon with the Central Point, or the Seventh Key.
Section XII. The Duty of the True Occultist toward Religions.
Section XIII. Post-Christian Adepts and their Doctrines.
Section XIV. Simon and his Biographer Hippolytus.
Section XV. St. Paul the real Founder of present Christianity.
Section XVI. Peter a Jewish Kabalist, not an Initiate.
Section XVII. Apollonius of Tyana.
Section XVIII. Facts underlying Adept Biographies.
Section XIX. St. Cyprian of Antioch.
Section XX. The Eastern Gupta Vidya & the Kabalah.
Section XXI. Hebrew Allegories.
Section XXII. The "Zohar" on Creation and the Elohim.
Section XXIII. What the Occultists and Kabalists have to say.
Section XXIV. Modern Kabalists in Science and Occult Astronomy.
Section XXV. Eastern and Western Occultism.
Section XXVI. The Idols and the Teraphim.
Section XXVII. Egyptian Magic.
Section XXVIII. The Origin of the Mysteries.
Section XXIX. The Trial of the Sun Initiate.
Section XXX. The Mystery "Sun of Initiation."
Section XXXI. The Objects of the Mysteries.
Section XXXII. Traces of the Mysteries.
Section XXXIII. The Last of the Mysteries in Europe.
Section XXXIV. The Post-Christian Successors to the Mysteries.
Section XXXV. Symbolism of Sun and Stars.
Section XXXVI. Pagan Sidereal Worship, or Astrology.
Section XXXVII. The Souls of the Stars--Universal Heliolatry.
Section XXXVIII. Astrology and Astrolatry.
Section XXXIX. Cycles and Avataras.
Section XL. Secret Cycles.
Section XLI. The Doctrine of Avataras.
Section XLII. The Seven Principles.
Section XLIII. The Mystery of Buddha.
Section XLIV. "Reincarnations" of Buddha.
Section XLV. An Unpublished Discourse of Buddha.
Section XLVI. Nirvana-Moksha.
Section XLVII. The Secret Books of "Lam-Rin" and Dzyan.
Section XLVIII. Amita Buddha Kwan-Shai-yin, and Kwan-yin.--What the "Book
of Dzyan" and the Lamaseries of Tsong-Kha-pa say.
Section XLIX. Tsong-Kha-pa.--Lohans in China.
Section L. A few more Misconceptions Corrected.
Section LI. The "Doctrine of the Eye" & the "Doctrine of the Heart," or
the "Heart's Seal."
Some Papers On The Bearing Of Occult Philosophy On Life.
Paper I. A Warning.
Paper II. An Explanation.
Paper III. A Word Concerning the Earlier Papers.
Appendix. Notes on Papers I., II. and III.
Notes On Some Oral Teachings.
Footnotes
[Cover Art]
[Transcriber's Note: The above cover image was produced by the submitter
at Distributed Proofreaders, and is being placed | 1,432.63782 |
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Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the distributed proofreaders team
The Reign of Greed
A Complete English Version of _El Filibusterismo_ from the Spanish of
Jose Rizal
By
Charles Derbyshire
Manila
Philippine Education Company
1912
Copyright, 1912, by Philippine Education Company.
Entered at Stationers' Hall.
Registrado en las Islas Filipinas.
_All rights reserved_.
TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION
El Filibusterismo, the second of Jose Rizal's novels of Philippine
life, is a story of the last days of the Spanish regime in the
Philippines. Under the name of _The Reign of Greed_ it is for the
first time translated into English. Written some four or five years
after _Noli Me Tangere_, the book represents Rizal's more mature
judgment on political and social conditions in the islands, and in
its graver and less hopeful tone reflects the disappointments and
discouragements which he had encountered in his efforts to lead the
way to reform. Rizal's dedication to the first edition is of special
interest, as the writing of it was one of the grounds of accusation
against him when he was condemned to death in 1896. It reads:
"To the memory of the priests, Don Mariano Gomez (85 years
old), Don Jose Burgos (30 years old), and Don Jacinto Zamora
(35 years old). Executed in Bagumbayan Field on the 28th of
February, 1872.
"The Church, by refusing to degrade you, has placed in doubt
the crime that has been imputed to you; the Government, by
surrounding your trials with mystery and shadows, causes the
belief that there was some error, committed in fatal moments;
and all the Philippines, by worshiping your memory and calling
you martyrs, in no sense recognizes your culpability. In so
far, therefore, as your complicity in the Cavite mutiny is not
clearly proved, as you may or may not have been patriots, and
as you may or may not have cherished sentiments for justice
and for liberty, I have the right to dedicate my work to
you as victims of the evil which I undertake to combat. And
while we await expectantly upon Spain some day to restore
your good name and cease to be answerable for your death,
let these pages serve as a tardy wreath of dried leaves over
your unknown tombs, and let it be understood that every one
who without clear proofs attacks your memory stains his hands
in your blood!
J. Rizal."
A brief recapitulation of the story in _Noli Me Tangere_ (The Social
Cancer) is essential to an understanding of such plot as there is
in the present work, which the author called a "continuation" of the
first story.
Juan Crisostomo Ibarra is a young Filipino, who, after studying
for seven years in Europe, returns to his native land to find that
his father, a wealthy landowner, has died in prison as the result
of a quarrel with the parish curate, a Franciscan friar named Padre
Damaso. Ibarra is engaged to a beautiful and accomplished girl, Maria
Clara, the supposed daughter and only child of the rich Don Santiago
de los Santos, commonly known as "Capitan Tiago," a typical Filipino
cacique, the predominant character fostered by the friar regime.
Ibarra resolves to forego all quarrels and to work for the betterment
of his people. To show his good intentions, he seeks to establish,
at his own expense, a public school in his native town. He meets with
ostensible support from all, especially Padre Damaso's successor,
a young and gloomy Franciscan named Padre Salvi, for whom Maria Clara
confesses to an instinctive dread.
At the laying of the corner-stone for the new schoolhouse a
suspicious accident, apparently aimed at Ibarra's life, occurs, but
the festivities proceed until the dinner, where Ibarra is grossly and
wantonly insulted over the memory of his father by Fray Damaso. The
young man loses control of himself and is about to kill the friar,
who is saved by the intervention of Maria Clara.
Ibarra is excommunicated, and Capitan Tiago, through his fear of the
friars, is forced to break the engagement and agree to the marriage of
Maria Clara with a young and inoffensive Spaniard provided by Padre
Damaso. Obedient to her reputed father's command and influenced
by her mysterious dread of Padre Salvi, Maria Clara consents to
this arrangement, but becomes seriously ill, only to be saved by
medicines sent secretly by Ibarra and clandestinely administered by
a girl friend.
Ibarra succeeds in having the excommunication removed, but before he
can explain matters an uprising against the Civil Guard is secretly
brought about through agents of Padre Salvi, and the leadership is
ascribed to Ibarra to ruin him. He is warned by a mysterious friend,
an outlaw called Elias, whose life he had accidentally saved; but
desiring first to see Maria Clara, he refuses to make his escape,
and when the outbreak occurs he is arrested as the instigator of it
and thrown into prison in Manila.
On the evening when Capitan Tiago gives a ball in his Manila house to
celebrate his supposed daughter's engagement, Ibarra makes his escape
from prison and succeeds in seeing Maria Clara alone. He begins to
reproach her because it is a letter written to her before he went to
Europe which forms the basis of the charge against him, but she clears
herself of treachery to him. The letter had been secured from her by
false representations and in exchange for two others written by her
mother just before her birth, which prove that Padre Damaso is her
real father. These letters had been accidentally discovered in the
convento by Padre Salvi, who made use of them to intimidate the girl
and get possession of Ibarra's letter, from which he forged others
to incriminate the young man. She tells him that she will marry the
young Spaniard, sacrificing herself thus to save her mother's name
and Capitan Tiago's honor and to prevent a public scandal, but that
she will always remain true to him.
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THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
_A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics._
VOL. XV.--FEBRUARY, 1865.--NO. LXXXVIII.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by TICKNOR AND
FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
OUR FIRST GREAT PAINTER, AND HIS WORKS.
On the 8th of July, | 1,432.643466 |
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THE WALCOTT TWINS
BY
LUCILE LOVELL
ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA MCM
Copyright 1900 by The Penn Publishing Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Gay and May 5
II The First Separation 11
III Just for Fun 16
IV A Remarkable Household 23
V More Confusion 30
VI Being a Boy 37
VII Being a Girl 44
VIII A Scene at Rose Cottage 49
IX Saw and Axe 56
X A Course of Training 62
XI The Training Begins 68
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THE BROKEN FONT
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "TALES OF THE WARS OF OUR TIMES,"
"RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PENINSULA," &c. &c. &c.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1836.
THE BROKEN FONT.
CHAPTER I.
And now, good morrow to our waking soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare.
DONNE.
The noble spirit of Katharine Heywood was severely exercised by those
disclosures of Jane Lambert which have been related in a former
chapter.
She regretted, too late, that she had ever asked that true-hearted
girl to perform an office so difficult in itself, and which had
proved, in its consequences, so hazardous to her reputation and her
peace. The chance of such a misfortune as that which had befallen Jane
never remotely presented itself to her mind at the moment when she
made the request, yet she could not but feel compunction as she
reflected on the trouble to which the generous constancy of a delicate
mind had subjected her affectionate friend. One slight reparation was
in her power. It became her plain duty to undeceive the mind of Juxon
on the subject; and the thought that she should be thus instrumental
in bringing together two fine characters, formed for each other, made
all selfish considerations about her own sorrow, and every pang which
her maidenly pride must suffer, vanish before that proper resolution.
No opportunity of speaking in private with Juxon occurred on the
evening of Jane's disclosure to Katharine, nor did any offer itself
until the arrival of her young cousin Arthur from Oxford. It was a
mournful trial to Katharine to observe the high and joyous spirits of
the ardent youth, as he embraced and thanked Sir Oliver for acceding
to his request. The silent house became suddenly full of cheerful
echoes as the brave boy passed to and fro on its oaken staircase and
along the pleasant gallery, singing snatches of loyal songs, or making
his spurs jingle as he ran. All his preparations for the solemn work
of war were made with a light heart, and with little or no
consideration that fellow-countrymen were to be his enemies. Such
little sympathy as the boy once felt for the tortured Prynne existed
no longer for any one of that party, which he had learned to look upon
as traitors.
One would have thought that he was volunteering in a foreign
expedition, by his gay-hearted alacrity in getting ready.
"Cousin Kate," said he, turning towards her as they sat at breakfast
in the hall, "you must make us a couple of King's rosettes,--and I
hope you have both of you," he added, looking at Jane Lambert, "nearly
finished embroidering the small standard for our troop:--you have
laughed at me, and called me boy, Jane; but when I bring you back your
own embroidery, stained with the blood of traitors, you shall reward
me as a man."
"I am not so very blood-thirsty, Arthur," said Jane Lambert, "as to
wish it shed to do honour to my embroidery; and if I see you come
safe back with your sword bright and a peace branch in your hand, I
will tell a fib for you, and call you a man before your beard comes.
Now don't frown--it does not become your smooth face:--when all is
over, you shall play the part of a lady in the first court masque, and
shall wear my rose- gown."
"Why, Jane," said Sir Oliver, "what is come to you, girl? It was but
five minutes ago that I saw you with your kerchief at your eyes,
looking as sad as though you were sitting at a funeral; and now thou
mockest poor Arthur, as if he were a vain boaster, instead of a
gallant boy, as thou well knowest.--Never mind her, Arthur: she is a
true woman, and teazes those most whom she loves the best. She will
cry peccavi to thee a few weeks hence, and suffer thee to give her a
full pardon in honest kisses."
"Marry, Sir Oliver," said Jane, smiling, "you will spoil the boy, an
you talk thus to him."
"She shall not wait so long for my pardon," said the good-tempered
Arthur, with quickness; and rising from his seat, he went to Jane,
and, with the permitted familiarity of boyhood and cousinship, he
gave her a kiss. "There," he added: "a bird in the hand is worth two
in the bush. 'To-morrow' is a word I never liked, and it is a season
which I may never find. Now, remember, if I should have the ill luck
to be cut down by the sword of a traitor, I die in peace with you,
dear coz, and forgive you for your merriment beforehand."
"She will not be merrier, Arthur, than she is now," said Katharine;
"and to say truth, the very thought is enough to make us sad, if we
were not melancholy already:--but I must not hear, my dear father, of
your going to the field. It will be at the cost of your life, and
that, too, without your having the satisfaction to be of use."
"An example, Kate, must always be of service, if it be a good one; and
though I never stood opposite a shotted cannon hitherto, methinks, to
do that once by the side of my King would make the short remnant of my
life all the brighter for it. Besides, my dear girl, for all the talk
which these Parliament men make about their levies, let the country
gentlemen of the western counties arm in right earnest, and the loyal
cavaliers of England will make these praying rogues bend the knee and
cry out for quarter."
"To be sure they will," said the excited Arthur: "I will bring cousin
Jane a live specimen of the genuine round-headed rebel, with his hands
tied behind him, and the whites of his eyes where the pupils should
be."
At this moment Juxon entered the hall from Old Beech:--he caught the
last sentence; and putting one hand on Arthur's shoulder, as he gave
the other to Sir Oliver.--"Remember, my young master," he said, "that
thy game must be caught before it can be cooked, at least so says the
cookery book in my old housekeeper's room; and, believe me, you will
find a day's fighting with these Parliament boys rather harder work
than a morning's hare-hunting, and little game bagged at the close of
it."
"Why, George Juxon! this from you!" said Sir Oliver. "Why, you are the
very last man that I expected to hear croak in this fashion. Why, I
expect to see the vagabonds turn tail, before a charge of well mounted
cavaliers, like a flock of sheep."
"You could not see such a runaway flight with greater pleasure than I
should; but take my word for it, the King's enemies are made of
sterner stuff than you give them credit for. Many a great spirit is
reckoned among their leaders; and of the meaner folk that follow them
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JOE THE HOTEL BOY
OR
WINNING OUT BY PLUCK
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
CONTENTS.
I. OUT IN A STORM
II. A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION
III. A HOME IN RUINS
IV. THE SEARCH FOR THE BLUE BOX
V. A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES
VI. AN ACCIDENT ON THE LAKE
VII. BLOWS AND KIND DEEDS
VIII. THE TIMID MR. GUSSING
IX. AN UNFORTUNATE OUTING
X. DAVID BALL FROM MONTANA
XI. A FRUITLESS CHASE
XII. THE PARTICULARS OF A SWINDLE
XIII. OFF FOR THE CITY
XIV. A SCENE ON THE TRAIN
XV. WHAT HAPPENED TO JOSIAH BEAN
XVI. A MATTER OF SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS
XVII. JOE'S NEW POSITION
XVIII. JOE SHOWS HIS MUSCLE
XIX. ONE KIND OF A DUEL
XX. ATTACKED IN THE DARK
XXI. DAYS AT THE HOTEL
XXII. ABOUT SOME MINING SHARES
XXIII. THE FIRE AT THE HOTEL
XXIV. THE BLUE BOX AT LAST
XXV. JOE VISITS CHICAGO
XXVI. HOW A SATCHEL DISAPPEARED
XXVII. JOE MAKES A DISCOVERY
XXVIII. FROM OUT OF A TREE
XXIX. THE FATE OF TWO EVILDOERS
XXX. CONCLUSION
PREFACE.
A number of years ago the author of this story set out to depict life
among the boys of a great city, and especially among those who had to
make their own way in the world. Among those already described are
the ways of newsboys, match boys, peddlers, street musicians, and many
others.
In the present tale are related the adventures of a country lad who,
after living for some time with a strange hermit, goes forth into the
world and finds work, first in a summer hotel and then in a large hotel
in the city. Joe finds his road no easy one to travel, and he has to
face not a few hardships, but in the end all turns out well.
It may be added here that many of the happenings told of in this story,
odd as they may seem, are taken from life. Truth is indeed stranger than
fiction, and life itself is full of romance from start to finish.
If there is a moral to be drawn from this story, it is a twofold one,
namely, that honesty is always the best policy, and that if one wishes
to succeed in life he must stick at his work steadily and watch every
opportunity for advancement.
JOE THE HOTEL BOY.
CHAPTER I.
OUT IN A STORM.
"What do you think of this storm, Joe?"
"I think it is going to be a heavy one, Ned. I wish we were back home,"
replied Joe Bodley, as he looked at the heavy clouds which overhung Lake
Tandy.
"Do you think we'll catch much rain before we get back?" And Ned, who
was the son of a rich man and well dressed, looked at the new suit of
clothes that he wore.
"I'm afraid we shall, Ned. Those black clouds back of Mount Sam mean
something." "If this new suit gets soaked it will be ruined," grumbled
Ned, and gave a sigh.
"I am sorry for the suit, Ned; but I didn't think it was going to rain
when we started."
"Oh, I am not blaming you, Joe. It looked clear enough this morning.
Can't we get to some sort of shelter before the rain reaches us?"
"We can try."
"Which is the nearest shelter?"
Joe Bodley mused for a moment.
"The nearest that I know of is over at yonder point, Ned. It's an old
hunting lodge that used to belong to the Cameron family. It has been
deserted for several years."
"Then let us row for that place, and be quick about it," said Ned
Talmadge. "I am not going to get wet if I can help it."
As he spoke he took up a pair of oars lying in the big rowboat he and
Joe Bodley occupied. Joe was already rowing and the rich boy joined in,
and the craft was headed for the spot Joe had pointed out.
The lake was one located in the central part of the State of
Pennsylvania. It was perhaps a mile wide and more than that long, and
surrounded by mountains and long ranges of hills. At the lower end of
the lake was a small settlement of scant importance and at the
upper end, where there was a stream of no mean size, was the town of
Riverside. At Riverside were situated several summer hotels and boarding
houses, and also the elegant mansion in which Ned Talmadge resided, with
his parents and his four sisters.
Joe Bodley was as poor as Ned Talmadge was rich, yet the two lads were
quite friendly. Joe knew a good deal about hunting and fishing, and also
knew all about handling boats. They frequently went out together, and
Ned insisted upon paying the poorer boy for all extra services.
Joe's home was located on the side of the mountain which was just now
wrapped in such dark and ominous looking clouds. He lived with Hiram
Bodley, an old man who was a hermit. The home consisted of a cabin of
two rooms, scantily furnished. Hiram Bodley had been a hunter and guide,
but of late years rheumatism had kept him from doing work and Joe was
largely the support of the pair,--taking out pleasure parties for pay
whenever he could, and fishing and hunting in the between times, and
using or selling what was gained thereby.
There was a good deal of a mystery surrounding Joe's parentage. It was
claimed that he was a nephew of Hiram Bodley, and that, after the death
of his mother and sisters, his father had drifted out to California and
then to Australia. What the real truth concerning him was we shall learn
later.
Joe was a boy of twelve, but constant life in the open air had made him
tall and strong and he looked to be several years older.
He had dark eyes and hair, and was much tanned by the sun. The rowboat
had been out a good distance on the lake and a minute before the shore
was gained the large drops of rain began to fall.
"We are going to get wet after all!" cried Ned, chagrined.
"Pull for all you are worth and we'll soon be under the trees," answered
Joe.
They bent to the oars, and a dozen more strokes sent the rowboat under
a clump of pines growing close to the edge of the lake. Just as the boat
struck the bank and Ned leaped out there came a great downpour which
made the surface of Lake Tandy fairly sizzle.
"Run to the lodge, Ned; I'll look after the boat!" shouted Joe.
"But you'll get wet."
"Never mind; run, I tell you!"
Thus admonished, Ned ran for the old hunting lodge, which was situated
about two hundred feet away. Joe remained behind long enough to secure
the rowboat and the oars and then he followed his friend.
Just as one porch of the old lodge was reached there came a flash
of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder that made Ned jump. Then
followed more thunder and lightning, and the rain came down steadily.
"Ugh! I must say I don't like this at all," remarked Ned, as he crouched
in a corner of the shelter. "I hope the lightning doesn't strike this
place."
"We can be thankful that we were not caught out in the middle of the
lake, Ned."
"I agree on that, Joe,--but it doesn't help matters much. Oh, dear me!"
And Ned shrank down, as another blinding flash of lightning lit up the
scene.
It was not a comfortable situation and Joe did not like it any more than
did his friend. But the hermit's boy was accustomed to being out in the
elements, and therefore was not so impressed by what was taking place.
"The rain will fill the boat," said Ned, presently.
"Never mind, we can easily bail her out or turn her over."
"When do you think this storm will stop?"
"In an hour or two, most likely. Such storms never last very long. What
time is it, Ned?"
"Half-past two," answered Ned, after consulting the handsome watch he
carried.
"Then, if it clears in two hours, we'll have plenty of time to get home
before dark."
"I don't care to stay here two hours," grumbled Ned. "It's not a very
inviting place."
"It's better than being out under the trees," answered Joe, cheerfully.
The hermit's boy was always ready to look on the brighter side of
things.
"Oh, of course."
"And we have a fine string of fish, don't forget that, Ned. We were
lucky to get so many before the storm came up."
"Do you want the fish, or are you going to let me take them?"
"I'd like to have one fish. You may take the others."
"Not unless you let me pay for them, Joe."
"Oh, you needn't mind about paying me."
"But I insist," came from Ned. "I won't touch them otherwise."
"All right, you can pay me for what I caught."
"No, I want to pay for all of them. Your time is worth something, and I
know you have to support your--the old hermit now."
"All right, Ned, have your own way. Yes, I admit, I need all the money I
get."
"Is the old hermit very sick?"
"Not so sick, but his rheumatism keeps him from going out hunting or
fishing, so all that work falls to me."
"It's a good deal on your shoulders, Joe."
"I make the best of it, for there is nothing else to do."
"By the way, Joe, you once spoke to me about--well, about yourself,"
went on Ned, after some hesitation. "Did you ever learn anything more?
You need not tell me if you don't care to."
At these words Joe's face clouded for an instant.
"No, I haven't learned a thing more, Ned."
"Then you don't really know if you are the hermit's nephew or not?"
"Oh, I think I am, but I don't know whatever became of my father."
"Does the hermit think he is alive?"
"He doesn't know, and he hasn't any means of finding out."
"Well, if I were you, I'd find out, some way or other."
"I'm going to find out--some day," replied Joe. "But, to tell the truth,
I don't know how to go at it. Uncle Hiram doesn't like to talk about it.
He thinks my father did wrong to go away. I imagine they had a quarrel
over it."
"Has he ever heard from your father since?"
"Not a word."
"Did he write?"
"He didn't know where to write to."
"Humph! It is certainly a mystery, Joe."
"You are right, Ned; and as I said before, I am going to solve it some
time, even if it takes years of work to do it," replied the hermit's
boy.
CHAPTER II.
A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION.
The old hunting lodge where the two boys had sought shelter was a
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[Illustration: FRANK READE WEEKLY MAGAZINE Containing Stories of
Adventures on Land, Sea & in the Air]
_Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
Second-Class Entry at N. Y. Post Office._
No. 73. NEW YORK, MARCH 18, 1904. Price 5 Cents.
[Illustration: THE TRANSIENT LAKE; OR FRANK READE, JR’S ADVENTURES IN A
MYSTERIOUS COUNTRY. “BY NONAME”]
He swung to and fro over the chasm,
liable at any moment to be
precipitated to an awful death. It
required but a moment for Frank to
recognize the unfortunate man. It
was Barney O’Shea.
FRANK READE
WEEKLY MAGAZINE.
CONTAINING STORIES OF ADVENTURES ON LAND, SEA AND IN THE AIR.
_Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
Second Class entry at the New York, N. Y., Post Office Entered according
to Act of Congress in the year 1904, in the office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by Frank Tousey, 24 Union Square, New
York._
No. 73 NEW YORK, MARCH 18, 1904. Price 5 Cents.
THE TRANSIENT LAKE;
OR,
Frank Reade, Jr.’s Adventures in a Mysterious Country.
By “NONAME.”
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. THE CAPTAIN’S STORY.
CHAPTER II. FRANK MAKES A DECISION.
CHAPTER III. IN THE ANDES.
CHAPTER IV. THE FIGHT WITH THE PUMA.
CHAPTER V. THE CAPTAIN’S DISAPPEARANCE.
CHAPTER VI. THE ANDEAN STORM.
CHAPTER VII. A STARTLING SURPRISE.
CHAPTER VIII. THE ATTACK ON THE AIR-SHIP.
CHAPTER IX. A FUTILE QUEST.
CHAPTER X. A COMPROMISE.
CHAPTER XI. A TREACHEROUS GAME.
CHAPTER XII. THE END OF THE STORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE CAPTAIN’S STORY.
“Stranger than the tales of the Arabian Nights—indeed, almost
Munchausen-like in its seemingly improbable character is the tale I am
about to give you in truth,” said Captain Nicodemus Beere as he hitched
up his trowsers and shifted his quid.
Frank Reade, Jr., drew a deep, quick breath and looked keenly at his
visitor.
“That is a sweeping statement,” he declared; “but you are a truthful
man, Captain Beere, and of course you mean what you say.”
“I certainly do,” said the doughty captain in his most positive manner.
“What is more, I stand ready to furnish undisputed proof of it.”
The captain cleared his throat and began his story. But before we follow
him through its thread let us take a closer look at him.
It could be seen at a glance that he was a man much out of the ordinary.
In figure he was stout and well built, with fair features and a heavy,
full beard. His blue eyes twinkled with honesty but a certain
irascibility of temper peculiar to sea-faring men.
For many years he had sailed the seas and weathered many a hard voyage
in all quarters of the world. But two years previous he had retired with
the purpose of spending the rest of his days in ease and comfort on
shore.
He had been a warm friend of Frank Reade, Sr., long since passed away,
and when he heard of the success of Frank Reade, Jr., the son of the
famous inventor, he conceived the notion of paying him a visit.
Frank Reade, Jr., received him hospitably in his beautiful Readestown
home.
“My father’s friends are mine,” he declared. “I have often heard him
speak of you, Captain Beere.”
The captain visited the great machine shops of Frank Reade, Jr., and
inspected his various inventions. Among them the one which claimed his
deepest interest was the new air-ship, the Spectre.
And as he studied and admired it an idea came into his brain. He at once
was determined to broach it to the young inventor.
This idea was to be embodied in the tale which he now proposed to give
Frank, and with this explanation let us follow him.
“Ten years ago,” declared the captain, “I was master of as fine a ship
as ever rounded Cape Horn. We were south of Panama and somewhere off the
coast of Peru when a storm struck us.
“For four days and nights it roared and howled and bellowed. We were
buffeted and driven hither and thither, half the time running before the
wind. We could not tell where we were nor what would be the end of it
all. It seemed as if we must go to the bottom.
“On the fourth day the climax came. The foremast went by the board and
carried the maintop with it. Later the main also went and we were almost
dismasted. Moreover, the ship began to make water at a fearful rate.
“However, by working sharp we kept her afloat until the morning of the
fifth day, which broke clear and bright. On our weather bow we saw land.
“There was no hope of saving the ship, so we worked her down under a
jury rig until we found a good place to beach her. Then we went ashore
in a long-boat.
“It was a rough, wild coast, with terrible high cliffs and reaches of
sand. Of course we climbed the highest cliff to see what was about us.
“Westward was the sea. North and south the rough shore, but eastward was
a mountainous country with fearful mountain passes and gorges. There was
something weird and mystic about the whole region. But we knew that it
was death from starvation to stay by the shore, so we kept on looking
for signs of human settlement.
“Before we knew it we were deep in the heart of the strangest region any
of us had ever seen. Every cliff or precipice seemed to have the shape
of a fiend or a hobgoblin or an elf. The trees were fantastic in shape,
there were hideous plants and snake-like vines. At times we came to
sluggish streams and deep pools with strange, black depths, apparently
bottomless.
“The animals were of an unknown species. There were birds of a talking
species, yet unlike parrots. I cannot half describe to you the wonders
of this mysterious country.
“For months we wandered through it. Then we came upon the ruins of a
city and all the signs of a former civilization. We also discovered that
the mountains were haunted by a race of giants, wild barbarians, out of
whose way we took care to keep.
“After a time we came to a mighty inland sea or lake, the farther shore
of which was so far distant that we could not see it. By the shores of
this we sojourned many days.
“But one morning we arose to view a strange state of affairs. Where a
few hours before there had existed a mighty lake, we saw now naught but
a deep, rocky and sandy basin.
“The water had disappeared and hills and valleys lay in its place. It
was a mighty surprise to us. All sorts of theories were advanced.
“That some subterranean channel had opened and carried the water away
looked logical. Or perhaps a chasm or barrier at some far end had given
way, and the mighty volume had been diverted into another and lower
basin.
“Any or all of these theories looked plausible enough, and were accepted
without further question. We spent a number of days exploring the basin.
By some strange instinct we returned each night from the basin to our
camp. To this we owed our lives.
“One day while wandering about the basin, one of our party came upon a
curious object.
“It was a structure of rocks closely fitted together with cement. It was
half imbedded in a plain of sand. That it was the work of human hands
there could be no doubt.
“Of course we were all interested, for it showed that at some time other
human beings than ourselves had visited the spot. We at once began to
curiously examine the structure.
“This resulted in a thrilling discovery. It was undoubtedly hollow and
our first mate, Bill Langley, discovered a movable stone at its summit.
He displaced this, and a great cavity was revealed.
“Our first thought, of course, was that it was a tomb or burial place of
some extinct race. In looking into the place we would not have been
surprised to have come across a heap of old bones or other such
evidence.
“But what we did see was far different. Bill leaned over the aperture a
while and rubbed his eyes repeatedly. Then he slid down, and said:
“’By jingo, mates! I’m a gallivantin’ old shark, if there ain’t a heap
of gold in that ere place!’
“’Gold!’ I exclaimed.
“’With submission, sir!’
“’You are dreaming, man!’ I exclaimed somewhat excited. ’Do you mean
it?’
“’Every word, skipper,’ replied Bill, solemnly. And I saw that he meant
just what he said.
“This was enough for me. So I climbed upon the mound and looked in also.
Something bright and yellow struck my gaze. I gave a gasp and then I
cried:
“’Give me a rope, mates. Steady me while I go down there!’
“And with a rope around my waist I slid down into the mound. It did not
require but a few moments to satisfy me that we had discovered buried
treasure.
“Yes, sir, gold! Yellow, glittering stuff, enough to make us all
millionaires. I own that I was near crazy at the time. There it lay in
bars and ingots. All that was left was to take it away to civilization.
“I crawled out of the mound and then we all sat down and discussed the
matter. There were fifteen of us.
“Bill Langley proposed a fair division. Of course this was satisfactory.
Then it was decided to take the gold out of the mound.
“The gold fever was upon us; we worked like badgers at it. In a few
hours we had a heap of the stuff piled up beside the mound. Then
nightfall began to threaten. We suspended work, and it was decided not
to return to camp, but remain on the spot until morning. There was not
the remotest chance of anybody’s purloining the gold, yet all wanted to
stay there.
“However, much of our necessary utensils were at the old camp. It was
about three miles distant. At length Bill Langley and I decided to
return for them and come back in the morning.
“So we set out for the old camp, and reached there an hour later, much
fatigued. We lit a fire and sat down by it; but we could not sleep.
“All we could do was to talk about the treasure and what golden plans we
could lay for the future. Midnight came and passed.
“Then I began to feel a bit drowsy, and suggested turning in; but the
words hadn’t left my lips when Bill gave a quick start.
“’Great gunnels, mate!’ he exclaimed; ’what in the Old Harry was that?’
“The same sound came to my ears. It was a distant, monotonous boom like
rolling thunder. The ground actually shook under our feet.
“Only once had I heard a similar frightful sound, and that was once
during an earthquake in Panama. But was this an earthquake?
“We sprang to our feet. Bill picked up a fire brand and held it high.
But we could see nothing but a few faint stars overhead. It was the
blackest kind of a night.
“For a space of thirty minutes the same dull roaring and trembling
continued. Then came a dead silence.
“We had about given up interest in the matter, thinking it some
inexplicable phenomenon of a tropical clime, when a sudden, startling
thing happened.
“A terrific boom, and a swirling, rushing mass came whooping down
through the lake basin. The next moment we were picked up as if in giant
arms and carried clean to the summit of the eminence beyond us, and
there we clung to palm trees, wet as drowned rats.”
CHAPTER II.
FRANK MAKES A DECISION.
The captain shifted his quid again and then smiled at the earnest look
in Frank’s eyes. The young inventor was intensely interested.
“How did we get wet?” interrogated the captain. “Water of course. It was
all before us. It had come down upon us with the force of a hurricane.
“We waited where we were until the light of day came. Then we beheld an
appalling scene. A mighty expanse of water lay before us.
“The lake had come back. The basin was full of water. Evidently it had a
trick of doing this. That it was of the transient kind there was no
doubt.
“I won’t attempt any theorizing or explanation of the phenomenon. I
describe it to you just as it occurred. That is all. You’ll have to
guess the rest.
“What of our shipmates and the gold? I don’t know. We never saw them
again. We could do nothing but push on to the northward. For months we
wandered until we came to a great river leading down to the Paraguay.
Thence we made our way to Parana and shipped home. This is my story.”
Frank drew a deep breath.
For a moment after the captain had finished he could not speak. At
length he managed to say:
“You think the gold is still at the bottom of that lake?”
“Yes.”
“And that the lake is transient, or has spells of changing its basin?”
“Just so, mate!”
Frank was thoughtful for a moment. Finally he said:
“Do you think it would be easy to find that locality again?”
“Oh, there’s the rub,” said Beere, rubbing his hands; “in my lifetime I
have made six attempts and failed. But, of course, we traveled
overland.”
The same thought came to each.
“Then you think the air-ship—on account of a better view of the earth,
could locate it?”
“I do,” replied Nicodemus. “Now you have the whole thing in a nutshell,
Frank. The moment I looked at your air-ship, I saw a possible way to
visit the mysterious | 1,433.04062 |
2023-11-16 18:40:57.1207740 | 264 | 50 |
Transcribed from the 1896 “Lizzie Leigh and Other Tales” Macmillan and
Co. edition by David Price, email [email protected]. Proofed by Audrey
Emmitt and Eugenia Corbo.
THE POOR CLARE
CHAPTER I.
DECEMBER 12th, 1747.—My life has been strangely bound up with
extraordinary incidents, some of which occurred before I had any
connection with the principal actors in them, or indeed, before I even
knew of their existence. I suppose, most old men are, like me, more
given to looking back upon their own career with a kind of fond interest
and affectionate remembrance, than to watching the events—though these
may have far more interest for the multitude—immediately passing before
their eyes. If this should be the case with the generality of old
people, how much more so with me!... If I am to enter upon that
strange story connected with poor Lucy, I must begin a long way back. I
myself only came to the knowledge of her family history after I knew her;
but, to make the tale clear to any one else, I must arrange events in | 1,433.140814 |
2023-11-16 18:40:57.1207850 | 112 | 15 |
Produced by Jason Isbell, Christine D. and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was made using scans of public domain works in the
International Children's Digital Library.)
[Illustration]
[Illustration: A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES]
[Illustration: ROBERT LOVIS STEVENSON]
EDINBVRGH. VAILIMA
1850 1894
[Illustration]
A CHILD | 1,433.140825 |
2023-11-16 18:40:57.1216140 | 6,388 | 36 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Michael Zeug,
Lisa Reigel, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Notes: Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been
left as in the original. No typographical corrections have been made.
Words in italics in the original are surrounded by _underscores_. Words
in bold in the original are surrounded by =equal signs=. The words
"manoeuvres," "phoebe", and "phoebes" use an oe ligature in the
original.
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| Books by Mr. Torrey. |
| |
| |
| BIRDS IN THE BUSH. 16mo, $1.25. |
| A RAMBLER'S LEASE. 16mo, $1.25. |
| |
| |
| HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. |
| BOSTON AND NEW YORK. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
A RAMBLER'S LEASE
BY
BRADFORD TORREY
I have known many laboring men that have got good estates in
this valley.--BUNYAN
Sunbeams, shadows, butterflies, and birds.--WORDSWORTH
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1892
Copyright, 1889,
BY BRADFORD TORREY.
_All rights reserved._
_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
PREFATORY NOTE.
The writer of this little book has found so much pleasure in other men's
woods and fields that he has come to look upon himself as in some sort
the owner of them. Their lawful possessors will not begrudge him this
feeling, he believes, nor take it amiss if he assumes, even in this
public way, to hold _a rambler's lease_ of their property. Should it
please them to do so, they may accept the papers herein contained as a
kind of return, the best he knows how to offer, for the many favors,
alike unproffered and unasked, which he has received at their hands. His
private opinion is that the world belongs to those who enjoy it; and
taking this view of the matter, he cannot help thinking that some of
his more prosperous neighbors would do well, in legal phrase, to perfect
their titles. He would gladly be of service to them in this regard.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
MY REAL ESTATE 1
A WOODLAND INTIMATE 22
AN OLD ROAD 45
CONFESSIONS OF A BIRD'S-NEST HUNTER 70
A GREEN MOUNTAIN CORN-FIELD 99
BEHIND THE EYE 114
A NOVEMBER CHRONICLE 121
NEW ENGLAND WINTER 140
A MOUNTAIN-SIDE RAMBLE 164
A PITCH-PINE MEDITATION 182
ESOTERIC PERIPATETICISM 189
BUTTERFLY PSYCHOLOGY 206
BASHFUL DRUMMERS 214
A RAMBLER'S LEASE.
MY REAL ESTATE.
Yet some did think that he had little business here.--WORDSWORTH.
Every autumn the town of W---- sends me a tax-bill, a kindly remembrance
for which I never fail of feeling grateful. It is pleasant to know that
after all these years there still remains one man in the old town who
cherishes my memory,--though it be only "this publican." Besides, to
speak frankly, there is a measure of satisfaction in being reminded now
and then of my dignity as a landed proprietor. One may be never so rich
in stocks and bonds, government consols and what not, but, acceptable as
such "securities" are, they are after all not quite the same as a
section of the solid globe itself. True, this species of what we may
call astronomic or planetary property will sometimes prove
comparatively unremunerative. Here in New England (I know not what may
be true elsewhere) there is a class of people whom it is common to hear
gossiped about compassionately as "land poor." But, however scanty the
income to be derived from it, a landed investment is at least
substantial. It will never fail its possessor entirely. If it starve
him, it will offer him a grave. It has the prime quality of permanence.
At the very worst, it will last as long as it is needed. Railroads may
be "wrecked," banks be broken, governments become bankrupt, and we be
left to mourn; but when the earth departs we shall go with it. Yes, the
ancient form of speech is correct,--land is _real_; as the modern phrase
goes, translating Latin into Saxon, land is _the thing_; and though we
can scarcely reckon it among the necessaries of life, since so many do
without it, we may surely esteem it one of the least dispensable of
luxuries.
But I was beginning to speak of my tax-bill, and must not omit to
mention a further advantage of real estate over other forms of property.
It is certain not to be overlooked by the town assessors. Its
proprietor is never shut up to the necessity of either advertising his
own good fortune, or else submitting to pay less than his rightful share
of the public expenses,--a merciful deliverance, for in such a strait,
where either modesty or integrity must go to the wall, it is hard for
human nature to be sure of itself.
To my thinking there is no call upon a man's purse which should be
responded to with greater alacrity than this of the tax-gatherer. In
what cause ought we to spend freely, if not in that of home and country?
I have heard, indeed, of some who do not agree with me in this feeling.
Possibly tax-rates are now and then exorbitant. Possibly, too, my own
view of the subject might be different were my quota of the public levy
more considerable. This year, for instance, I am called upon for
seventy-three cents; if the demand were for as many dollars, who knows
whether I might not welcome it with less enthusiasm? On such a point it
would be unbecoming for me to speak. Enough that even with my fraction
of a dollar I am able to rejoice that I have a share in all the town's
multifarious outlay. If an additional fire-engine is bought, or a new
school-house built, or the public library replenished, it is done in
part out of my pocket.
Here, however, let me make a single exception. I seldom go home (such
language still escapes me involuntarily) without finding that one or
another of the old roads has been newly repaired. I hope that no mill of
my annual seventy or eighty cents goes into work of that sort. The
roads--such as I have in mind--are out of the way and little traveled,
and, in my opinion, were better left to take care of themselves. There
is no artist but will testify that a crooked road is more picturesque
than a straight one; while a natural border of alder bushes,
grape-vines, Roxbury wax-work, Virginia creeper, wild cherry, and such
like is an inexpensive decoration of the very best sort, such as the
Village Improvement Society ought never to allow any highway surveyor to
lay his hands on, unless in some downright exigency. What a
short-sighted policy it is that provides for the comfort of the feet,
but makes no account of those more intellectual and spiritual pleasures
which enter through the eye! It may be answered, I know, that in matters
of general concern it is necessary to consult the greatest good of the
greatest number; and that, while all the inhabitants of the town are
supplied with feet, comparatively few of them have eyes. There is force
in this, it must be admitted. Possibly the highway surveyor (the
highwayman, I was near to writing) is not so altogether wrong in his
"improvements." At all events, it is not worth while for me to make the
question one of conscience, and go to jail rather than pay my taxes, as
Thoreau did. Let it suffice to enter my protest. Whatever others may
desire, for myself, as often as I revisit W----, I wish to be able to
repeat with unction the words of W----'s only poet,[5:1]--
"How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood!"
And how am I to do that, if the "scenes" have been modernized past
recognition?
My own landed possessions are happily remote from roads. Not till long
after my day will the "tide of progress" bring them "into the market,"
as the real-estate brokers are fond of saying. I have never yet been
troubled with the importunities of would-be purchasers. Indeed, it is a
principal recommendation of woodland property that one's sense of
proprietorship is so little liable to be disturbed. I often reflect how
altered the case would be were my fraction of an acre in some peculiarly
desirable location near the centre of the village. Then I could hardly
avoid knowing that the neighbors were given to speculating among
themselves about my probable selling price; once in a while I should be
confronted with a downright offer; and what assurance could I feel that
somebody would not finally tempt me beyond my strength, and actually buy
me out? As it is, my land is mine; and, unless extreme poverty overtakes
me, mine it is reasonably certain to remain, till death shall separate
us.
Whatever contributes to render life interesting and enjoyable goes so
far toward making difficult its final inevitable surrender; and it must
be confessed that the thought of my wood-lot increases my otherwise
natural regret at being already so well along on my journey. In a sense
I feel my own existence to be bound up with that of my pine-trees; or,
to speak more exactly, that their existence is bound up with mine. For
it is a sort of unwritten but inexorable law in W----, as in fact it
appears to be throughout New England, that no pine must ever be allowed
to reach more than half its normal growth; so that my trees are certain
to fall under the axe as soon as their present owner is out of the way.
I am not much given to superstition. There are no longer any dryads, it
is to be presumed; and if there were, it is not clear that they would be
likely to take up with pines; but for all that, I cherish an almost
affectionate regard for any trees with which I have become familiar. I
have mourned the untimely fate of many; and now, seeing that I have been
entrusted with the guardianship of these few, I hold myself under a kind
of sacred obligation to live as long as possible, for their sakes.
It is now a little less than a fortnight since I paid them a visit. The
path runs through the wood for perhaps half a mile; and, as I sauntered
along, I heard every few rods the thump of falling acorns, though there
was barely wind enough to sway the tree-tops. "Mother Earth has begun
her harvesting in good earnest," I thought. The present is what the
squirrels call a good year. They will laugh and grow fat. Their oak
orchards have seldom done better, the chestnut oaks in particular, the
handsome, rosy-tipped acorns of which are noticeably abundant.
This interesting tree, so like the chestnut itself in both bark and
leaf, is unfortunately not to be found in my own lot; at any rate, I
have never discovered it there, although it grows freely only a short
distance away. But I have never explored the ground with anything like
thoroughness, and, to tell the truth, am not at all certain that I know
just where the boundaries run. In this respect my real estate is not
unlike my intellectual possessions; concerning which I often find it
impossible to determine what is actually mine and what another's. I
have written an essay before now, and at the end been more or less in
doubt where to set the quotation marks. For that matter, indeed, I
incline to believe that the whole tract of woods in the midst of which
my little spot is situated belongs to me quite as really as to the
various persons who claim the legal ownership. Not many of these latter,
I am confident, get a better annual income from the property than I do;
and even in law, we are told, possession counts for nine points out of
the ten. They are never to be found at home when I call, and I feel no
scruple about carrying away whatever I please. My treasures, be it said,
however, are chiefly of an impalpable sort,--mostly thoughts and
feelings, though with a few flowers and ferns now and then; the one set
about as valuable as the other, the proprietors of the land would
probably think.
In one aspect of the case, the lot which is more strictly my own is just
now in a very interesting condition, though one that, unhappily, is far
from being uncommon. Except the pines already mentioned (only six or
eight in number), the wood was entirely cut off a few years before I
came into possession, and at present the place is covered with a thicket
of vines, bushes, and young trees, all engaged in an almost desperate
struggle for existence. When the ground was cleared, every seed in it
bestirred itself and came up; others made haste to enter from without;
and ever since then the battle has been going on. It is curious to
consider how changed the appearance of things will be at the end of
fifty years, should nature be left till then to take its course. By that
time the contest will for the most part be over. At least nineteen
twentieths of all the plants that enlisted in the fight will have been
killed, and where now is a dense mass of shrubbery will be a grove of
lordly trees, with the ground underneath broad-spaced and clear. A noble
result; but achieved at what a cost! If one were likely himself to live
so long, it would be worth while to catalogue the species now in the
field, for the sake of comparing the list with a similar one of half a
century later. The contrast would be an impressive sermon on the
mutability of mundane things. But we shall be past the need of
preaching, most of us, before that day arrives, and not unlikely shall
have been ourselves preached about in enforcement of the same trite
theme.
Thoughts of this kind came to me the other afternoon, as I stood in the
path (what is known as the town path cuts the lot in two) and looked
about. So much was going on in this bit of earth, itself the very centre
of the universe to multitudes of living things. The city out of which I
had come was not more densely populous. Here at my elbow stood a group
of sassafras saplings, remnants of a race that has held the ground for
nobody knows how long. One of my earliest recollections of the place is
of coming hither to dig for fragrant roots. At that time it had never
dawned upon me that the owner of the land would some day die, and leave
it to me, his heir. How hard and rocky the ground was! And how hard we
worked for a very little bark! Yet few of my pleasures have lasted
better. The spicy taste is in my mouth still. Even in those days I
remarked the glossy green twigs of this elegant species, as well as the
unique and beautiful variety of its leaves,--some entire and oval,
others mitten-shaped, and others yet three-lobed; an extremely pretty
bit of originality, suiting admirably with the general comely habit of
this tree. There are some trees, as some men, that seem born to dress
well.
Along with the sassafras I was delighted to find one or two small
specimens of the flowering dogwood (_Cornus florida_),--another original
genius, and one which I now for the first time became acquainted with as
a tenant of my own. Its deeply veined leaves are not in any way
remarkable (unless it be for their varied autumnal tints), and are all
fashioned after one pattern. Its blossoms, too, are small and
inconspicuous; but these it sets round with large white bracts
(universally mistaken for petals by the uninitiated), and in flowering
time it is beyond comparison the showiest tree in the woods, while its
fruit is the brightest of coral red. I hope these saplings of mine may
hold their own in the struggle for life, and be flourishing in all their
beauty when my successor goes to look at them fifty years hence.
Having spoken of the originality of the sassafras and the dogwood, I
must not fail to mention their more abundant neighbor, the witch-hazel,
or hamamelis. In comparison with its wild freak of singularity, the
modest idiosyncrasies of the other two seem almost conventional. Why, if
not for sheer oddity's sake, should any bush in this latitude hold back
its blossoms till near the edge of winter? As I looked at the half-grown
buds, clustered in the axils of the yellow leaves, they appeared to be
waiting for the latter to fall, that they might have the sunlight all to
themselves. They will need it, one would say, in our bleak November
weather.
Overfull of life as my wild garden patch was, it would not have kept its
(human) possessor very long from starvation. One or two barberry bushes
made a brave show of fruitfulness; but the handsome clusters were not
yet ripe, and even at their best they are more ornamental than
nutritive,--though, after the frost has cooked them, one may go farther
and fare worse. A few stunted maple-leaved viburnums (_this_ plant's
originality is imitative,--a not uncommon sort, by the bye) proffered
scanty cymes of dark purplish drupes. Here and there was a spike of red
berries, belonging to the false Solomon's-seal or false spikenard (what
a pity this worthy herb should not have some less negative title!); but
these it would have been a shame to steal from the grouse. Not far off a
single black alder was reddening its fruit, which all the while it
hugged close to the stem, as if in dread lest some chance traveler
should be attracted by the bright color. It need not have trembled, for
this time at least. I had just dined, and was tempted by nothing save
two belated blackberries, the very last of the year's crop, and a single
sassafras leaf, mucilaginous and savory, admirable as a relish. A few
pigeon-berries might have been found, I dare say, had I searched for
them, and possibly a few sporadic checkerberries; while right before my
eyes was a vine loaded with large bunches of very small frost-grapes,
such as for hardness would have served well enough for school-boys'
marbles. Everything has its favorable side, however; and probably the
birds counted it a blessing that the grapes _were_ small and hard and
sour; else greedy men would have come with baskets and carried them all
away. Except some scattered rose-hips, I have enumerated everything that
looked edible, I believe, though a hungry man's eyes might have
lengthened the list materially. The cherry-trees, hickories, and oaks
were not yet in bearing, as the horticultural phrase is; but I was glad
to run upon a clump of bayberry bushes, which offer nothing good to eat,
to be sure, but are excellent to smell of. The leaves always seem to
invite crushing, and I never withhold my hand.
Among the crowd of young trees--scrub oaks, red oaks, white oaks,
cedars, ashes, hickories, birches, maples, aspens, sumachs, and
hornbeams--was a single tupelo. The distinguished name honors my
catalogue, but I am half sorry to have it there. For, with all its
sturdiness, the tupelo does not bear competition, and I foresee plainly
that my unlucky adventurer will inevitably find itself overshadowed by
more rapid growers, and be dwarfed and deformed, if not killed outright.
Some of the very strongest natures (and the remark is of general
application) require to be planted in the open, where they can be free
to develop in their own way and at leisure. But this representative of
_Nyssa multiflora_ took the only chance that offered, I presume, as the
rest of us must do.
Happy the humble! who aspire not to lofty things, demanding the lapse of
years for their fulfillment, but are content to set before themselves
some lesser task, such as the brevity of a single season may suffice to
accomplish. Here were the asters and golden-rods already finishing their
course in glory, while the tupelo was still barely getting under way in
a race which, however prolonged, was all but certain to terminate in
failure. Of the golden-rods I noted four species, including the
white--which might appropriately be called silvery-rod--and the
blue-stemmed. The latter (_Solidago cæsia_) is to my eye the prettiest
of all that grow with us, though it is nearly the least obtrusive. It is
rarely, if ever, found outside of woods, and ought to bear some name
(sylvan golden-rod, perhaps) indicative of the fact.
As a rule, fall flowers have little delicacy and fragrance. They are
children of the summer; and, loving the sun, have had almost an excess
of good fortune. With such pampering, it is no wonder they grow rank and
coarse. They would be more than human, I was going to say, if they did
not. It is left for stern winter's progeny, the blossoms of early
spring-time, who struggle upward through the snow and are blown upon by
chilly winds,--it is left for these gentle creatures, at once so hardy
and so frail, to illustrate the sweet uses of adversity.
All in all, it was a motley company which I beheld thus huddled together
in my speck of forest clearing. Even the lands beyond the sea were
represented, for here stood mullein and yarrow, contesting the ground
with oaks and hickories. The smaller wood flowers were not wanting, of
course, though none of them were now in bloom. Pyrola and winter-green,
violets (the common blue sort and the leafy-stemmed yellow), strawberry
and five-finger, saxifrage and columbine, rock-rose and bed-straw,
self-heal and wood-sorrel,--these, and no doubt many more, were there,
filling the chinks otherwise unoccupied.
My assortment of ferns is small, but I noted seven species: the
brake, the polypody, the hay-scented, and four species of
shield-ferns,--_Aspidium Noveboracense_, _Aspidium spinulosum_, variety
_intermedium_, _Aspidium marginale_, and the Christmas fern, _Aspidium
acrostichoides_. The last named is the one of which I am proudest. For
years I have been in the habit of coming hither at Christmas time to
gather the fronds, which are then as bright and fresh as in June. Two of
the others, the polypody and _Aspidium marginale_, are evergreen also,
but they are coarser in texture and of a less lively color. Writing of
these flowerless beauties, I am tempted to exclaim again, "Happy the
humble!" The brake is much the largest and stoutest of the seven, but it
is by a long time the first to be cut down before the frost.
Should I ever meet with reverses, as the wealthiest and most prudent are
liable to do, and be compelled to part with my woodland inheritance, I
shall count it expedient to seek a purchaser in the spring. At that
season its charms are greatly enhanced by a lively brook. This comes
tumbling down the hill-side, dashing against the bowlders (of which the
land has plenty), and altogether acting like a thing not born to die;
but alas, the early summer sees it make an end, to wait the melting of
next winter's snow. Many a happy hour did I, as a youngster, pass upon
its banks, watching with wonder the swarms of tiny insects which
darkened the foam and the snow, and even filmed the surface of the brook
itself. I marveled then, as I do now, why such creatures should be out
so early. Possibly our very prompt March friend, the phoebe, could
suggest an explanation.
A break in the forest is of interest not only to such plants as I have
been remarking upon, but also to various species of birds. No doubt the
towhee, the brown thrush, and the cat-bird found out this spot years
ago, and have been using it ever since for summer quarters. Indeed, a
cat-bird snarled at me for an intruder this very September afternoon,
though he himself was most likely nothing more than a chance pilgrim
going South. This member of the noble wren family and near cousin of
the mocking-bird would be better esteemed if he were to drop that
favorite feline call of his. But this is his bit of originality
(imitative, like the maple-leaved viburnum's), and perhaps, if justice
were done, it would be put down to his credit rather than made an
occasion of ill-will.
Once during the afternoon a company of chickadees happened in upon me;
and, taking my cue from the newspaper folk, I immediately essayed an
interview. My imitation of their conversational notes was hardly begun
before one of the birds flew toward me, and, alighting near by,
proceeded to answer my calls with a mimicry so exact, as fairly to be
startling. To all appearance the quick-witted fellow had taken the game
into his own hands. Instead of my deceiving him, he would probably go
back and entertain his associates with amusing accounts of how cleverly
he had fooled a stranger, out yonder in the bushes.
It would have seemed a graceful and appropriate acknowledgment of my
rightful ownership of the land on which the cat-bird and the titmice
were foraging, had they greeted me with songs. But it would hardly have
been courteous for me to propose the matter, and evidently it did not
occur to them. At all events, I heard no music except the hoarse and
solemn asseverations of the katydids, the gentler message of the
crickets, and in the distance an occasional roll-call of the grouse. My
dog--who is a much better sportsman than myself, but whose
companionship, I am ashamed to see, has not till now been mentioned--was
all the while making forays hither and thither into the surrounding
woods; and once in a while I heard, what is the best of all music in his
ears, the whir of "partridge" wings. Likely as not he thought it a queer
freak on my part to spend the afternoon thus idly, when with a gun I
might have been so much more profitably employed. He could not know that
I was satiating myself with a miser's delights, feasting my eyes upon my
own. In truth, I fancy he takes it for granted that the whole forest
belongs to me--and to him. Perhaps it does. As I said just now, I
sometimes think so myself.
FOOTNOTES:
[5:1] Since this essay was originally published (in the _Atlantic
Monthly_) I have been assured that the author of _The Old Oaken Bucket_
was not born in W----, but in the next town. Being convinced against my
will, however, and finding the biographical dictionaries divided upon
the point, I conclude to let the text stand unaltered.
A WOODLAND INTIMATE.
Surely there are times
When they consent to own me of their kin,
And condescend to me, and call me cousin.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
It is | 1,433.141654 |
2023-11-16 18:40:57.1216480 | 1,426 | 9 | EXPLOSIONS***
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TORPEDO WAR, AND SUBMARINE EXPLOSIONS.
by
ROBERT FULTON
Fellow of the American Philosophical Society,
and of the
United States Military and Philosophical Society.
The Liberty of the Sea will be the Happiness of the Earth.
New-York:
Printed by William Elliot, 114 Water-Street.
1810
New York
Reprinted
William Abbatt
1914
Being Extra No. 35 of The Magazine of History with Notes and Queries
CONTENTS
Page
TORPEDO WAR, &c. 5
PLATE I 7
PLATE II 10
PLATE III 13
PLATE IV, Fig. 1 15
Fig. 2 17
PLATE V, Fig. 1 & 2 17
Fig. 3 20
THOUGHTS -- On the probable effect of this invention 20
Estimate of the Force to Attack so Formidable a Blockade Fleet 32
Manner of Arranging the Boats Until Wanted 33
First Mode of Attack 35
Second Mode of Attack 36
ON -- the imaginary inhumanity of Torpedo war 40
A VIEW -- of the political economy of this invention 43
EDITOR'S PREFACE
In view of the prominent part played in the present World War by
torpedoes and submarines, the subject of our Extra No. 35 is
peculiarly timely.
The original of 1810 is very scarce, only one copy having been sold
at auction in many years: nor are copies to be found in any but a few
of our libraries. Fulton's claims for his invention have been fully
substantiated and some of his predictions, made more than a century
ago, are remarkably interesting, in view of the events of the past
five months. His estimate of our population in 1920 has already been
exceeded in fact, and only his plan of affixing torpedoes to their
prey by means of harpoons seems--for it was made in the days of wooden
ships--fantastic, in these days of iron clads. He could not foresee that
almost exactly a century would elapse before his invention would be
extensively used--though he cautiously says "it is impossible to foresee
to what degree torpedoes may be improved and rendered useful."
In the Joline collection of autograph letters, sold this month, was an
extremely interesting letter of Fulton's, addressed to Gen. William
Duane. A part reads:
"New York, March 1, 1813
I am happy to find you continue the firm friend to torpedoes; an
infant art which requires only support and practice to produce a
change in Maritime affairs of immence (_sic_) importance to this
country. Expecting the enemy here, I have not been idle, I have
prepared 9 torpedoes with locks that strike fire by concussion, and
four with clockwork locks."
The letter is of great interest throughout, and tells of his plans for
blowing up the enemy or driving them from New York waters, his regret
that he had not enough torpedoes for the Chesapeake; and contains a list
of the cost of various sorts, &c.
We regret that we could not secure permission to copy the whole of it.
TORPEDO WAR, &c.
_To JAMES MADISON, Esq. President of the United States, and to the
Members of both Houses of Congress._
Gentlemen,
In January last, at Kalorama, the residence of my friend Joel Barlow,
I had the pleasure of exhibiting to Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison, and a
party of gentlemen from the senate and house of representatives, some
experiments and details on Torpedo defence and attack; the favourable
impression which the experiments appeared to make on the minds of the
gentlemen then present; and my conviction that this invention, improved
and practised to the perfection which it is capable of receiving, will be
of the first importance to our country, has induced me to present you in
the form of a pamphlet a description of my system, with five engravings,
and such demonstrations as will give each of you an opportunity to
contemplate its efficacy and utility at your leisure; and enable you to
form a correct judgment on the propriety of adopting it as a part of our
means of national defence. It being my intention to publish hereafter
a detailed account of the origin and progress of this invention, and
the embarrassments under which I have laboured to bring it to its
present state of certain utility; I will now state only such experiments
and facts as are most important to be known, and which, proving the
practicability of destroying ships of war by this means, will lead the
mind to all the advantages which we may derive from it. I believe it
is generally known that I endeavoured for many years to get torpedoes
introduced into practice in France, and in England; which, though
unsuccessful, gave me the opportunity of making numerous very interesting
experiments on a large scale; by which I discovered errors in the
combinations of the machinery and method of fixing the torpedoes to a
ship; which errors in the machinery have been corrected: and I believe I
have found means of attaching the torpedoes to a vessel which will seldom
fail of success. It is the result of my experience which I now submit
to your consideration; and hoping that you will feel an interest in the
success of my invention, I beg for your deliberate perusal and reflection
on the following few pages. Gentlemen who have traced the progress of
the useful arts, know the years of toil and experiment, | 1,433.141688 |
2023-11-16 18:40:58.5203530 | 480 | 10 |
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SHADOW AND LIGHT
[Illustration: Very truly yours, M. W. Gibbs]
SHADOW AND LIGHT
An Autobiography
With Reminiscences of the Last and Present Century.
by
MIFFLIN WISTAR GIBBS
With an Introduction by Booker T. Washington
A Fatherless Boy, Carpenter and Contractor, Anti-Slavery Lecturer,
Merchant, Railroad Builder, Superintendent of Mine, Attorney-at-Law,
County Attorney, Municipal Judge Register of United States Lands,
Receiver of Public Monies for U. S., United States Consul to
Madagascar--Prominent Race Leaders, etc.
Washington, D. C.
1902.
Copyright, 1902.
PREFACE.
During the late years abroad, while reading the biographies of
distinguished men who had been benefactors, the thought occurred that I
had had a varied career, though not as fruitful or as deserving of
renown as these characters, and differing as to status and aim. Yet the
portrayal might be of benefit to those who, eager for advancement, are
willing to be laborious students to attain worthy ends.
I have aimed to give an added interest to the narrative by embellishing
its pages with portraits of men who have gained distinction in various
fields, who need only to be seen to present the career of those now
living as worthy models, and the record of the dead, who left the world
the better for having lived. To enjoy a life prominent and prolonged is
a desire as natural as worthy, and there have been those who sought to
extend its duration by nostrums and drinking-waters said to bestow the
virtue of "per | 1,434.540393 |
2023-11-16 18:40:58.6239350 | 1,172 | 10 | 17TH CENTURIES***
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in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page
breaks occurred in the original book.
SPIRITUAL REFORMERS IN THE 16TH & 17TH CENTURIES
by
RUFUS M. JONES, M.A., D.Litt.
Professor Of Philosophy, Haverford College, U.S.A.
MacMillan and Co., Limited
St. Martin's Street, London
1914
Copyright
_OTHER VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES_
_EDITED By RUFUS M. JONES_
STUDIES IN MYSTICAL RELIGION. (1908.)
By Rufus M. Jones.
THE QUAKERS IN THE AMERICAN COLONIES. (1911).
By Rufus M. Jones, assisted by Isaac Sharpless and Amelia M. Gummere.
THE BEGINNINGS OF QUAKERISM. (1912.)
By William Charles Braithwaite.
THE SECOND PERIOD OF QUAKERISM. (_In preparation._)
By William Charles Braithwaite.
THE LATER PERIODS OF QUAKERISM. (_In preparation._)
By Rufus M. Jones.
{v}
PREFACE
In my _Quakers in the American Colonies_ I announced the preparation of
a volume to be devoted mainly to Jacob Boehme and his influence. I
soon found, however, as my work of research proceeded, that Boehme was
no isolated prophet who discovered in solitude a fresh way of approach
to the supreme problems of the soul. I came upon very clear evidence
that he was an organic part of a far-reaching and significant
historical movement--a movement which consciously aimed, throughout its
long period of travail, to carry the Reformation to its legitimate
terminus, the restoration of apostolic Christianity. The men who
originated the movement, so far as anything historical can be said to
be "originated," were often scornfully called "Spirituals" by their
opponents, while they thought of themselves as divinely commissioned
and Spirit-guided "Reformers," so that I have with good right named
them "Spiritual Reformers."
I have had two purposes in view in these studies. One purpose was the
tracing of a religious movement, profoundly interesting in itself, as a
great side current of the Reformation. The other purpose was the
discovery of the background and environment of seventeenth century
Quakerism. There can be little doubt, I think, that I have here found
at least one of the great historical sources of the Quaker movement.
This volume, together with my _Studies in Mystical Religion_, will at
any rate {vi} furnish convincing evidence that the ideas, aims,
experiences, practices, and aspirations of the early Quakers were the
fruit of long spiritual preparation. This movement, as a whole, has
never been studied before, and my work has been beset with
difficulties. I have been aided by helpful monographs on individual
"Reformers," written mainly by German and French scholars, who have
been duly credited at the proper places, but for the most part my
material has been drawn from original sources. I am under much
obligation to my friend, Theodor Sippell of Schweinsberg, Germany. I
am glad to announce that he is preparing a critical historical study on
John Everard and the Ranters, which will throw important light on the
religious ideas of the English Commonwealth. He has read my proofs,
and has, throughout my period of research, given me the benefit of his
extensive knowledge of this historical field. I wish to express my
appreciation of the courtesy and kindness which I have received from
the officials of the University Library at Marburg. William Charles
Braithwaite of Banbury, England, has given me valuable help. My wife
has assisted me in all my work of research. She has read and re-read
the proofs, made the Index, and given me an immense amount of patient
help. I cannot close this Preface without again referring to the
inspiration of my invisible friend, John Wilhelm Rowntree, in whose
memory this series was undertaken.
HAVERFORD, PENNSYLVANIA,
_January_ 1914.
{vii}
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION
WHAT IS "SPIRITUAL RELIGION"............... xi
CHAPTER I
THE MAIN CURRENT OF THE REFORMATION ........... 1
CHAPTER II
HANS DENCK AND THE INWARD WORD.............. 17
CHAPTER III
TWO PROPHETS OF THE INWARD WORD: BUeNDERLIN AND ENTFELDER 31
CHAPTER IV
SEBASTIAN FRANCK: AN APOSTLE OF INWARD RELIGION ..... 46
CHAPTER V
CASPAR SCHWENCKFELD AND THE REFORMATION OF THE "MIDDLE WAY" 64
CHAPTER VI
SEBASTIAN CASTELLIO: A FORGOTTEN PROPHET..... | 1,434.643975 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE GREAT AMERICAN FRAUD
By Samuel Hopkins Adams
A Series of Articles on the Patent Medicine Evil, Reprinted from
Collier's Weekly
I-----The Great American Fraud 3
II----Peruna and the Bracers 12
III---Liquozone 23
IV----The Subtle Poisons 32
V-----Preying on the Incurables 45
VI----The Fundamental Fakes 57
ALSO
THE PATENT MEDICINE CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE FREEDOM OF THE PRESS
I. THE GREAT AMERICAN FRAUD.
Reprinted from Collier's Weekly, Oct. 7, 1905. {003}
This is the introductory article to a series which will contain a full
explanation and exposure of patent-medicine methods, and the harm done
to the public by this industry, founded mainly on fraud and poison.
Results of the publicity given to these methods can already be seen
in the steps recently taken by the National Government, some State
Governments and a few of the more reputable newspapers. The object
of the series is to make the situation so familiar and thoroughly
understood that there will be a speedy end to the worst aspects of the
evil.
[IMAGE ==>] {003}
Gullible America will spend this year some seventy-five millions of
dollars in the purchase of patent medicines. In consideration of this
sum it will swallow huge quantities of alcohol, an appalling amount of
opiates and narcotics, a wide assortment of varied drugs ranging from
powerful and dangerous heart depressants to insidious liver stimulants;
and, far in excess of all other ingredients, undiluted fraud. For fraud,
exploited by the skillfulest of advertising bunco men, is the basis of
the trade. Should the newspapers, the magazines and the medical journals
refuse their pages to this class of advertisements, the patent-medicine
business in five years would be as scandalously historic as the South
Sea Bubble, and the nation would be the richer not only in lives and
money, but in drunkards and drug-fiends saved.
"Don't make the mistake of lumping all proprietary medicines in one
indiscriminate denunciation," came warning from all sides when this
series was announced. But the honest attempt to separate the sheep from
the goats develops a lamentable lack of qualified candidates for the
sheepfold. External remedies there may be which are at once honest in
their claims and effective for their purposes; they are not to be found
among the much-advertised ointments or applications which fill the
public prints.
Cuticura may be a useful preparation, but in extravagance of advertising
it rivals the most clamorous cure-all. Pond's Extract, one would
naturally suppose, could afford to restrict itself to decent methods,
but in the recent {004}epidemic scare in New York it traded on the
public alarm by putting forth "display" advertisements headed, in heavy
black type, "Meningitis," a disease in which witch-hazel is about as
effective as molasses. This is fairly comparable to Peruna's ghoulish
exploitation, for profit, of the yellow-fever scourge in New Orleans,
aided by various southern newspapers of standing, which published as
_news_ an "interview" with Dr. Hartman, president of the Peruna Company.
Drugs That Make Victims.
When one comes to the internal remedies, the proprietary medicines
proper, they all belong to the tribe of Capricorn, under one of two
heads, harmless frauds or deleterious drugs. For instance, the laxatives
perform what they promise; if taken regularly, as thousands of people
take them (and, indeed, as the advertisements urge), they become an
increasingly baneful necessity. Acetanilid will undoubtedly relieve
headache of certain kinds; but acetanilid, as the basis of headache
powders, is prone to remove the cause of the symptoms permanently by
putting a complete stop to the heart action. Invariably, when taken
steadily, it produces constitutional disturbances of insidious
development which result fatally if the drug be not discontinued, and
often it enslaves the devotee to its use. Cocain and opium stop pain;
but the narcotics are not the safest drugs to put into the hands of the
ignorant, particularly when their presence is concealed in the "cough
remedies," "soothing syrups," and "catarrhal powders" of which they are
the basis. Few outside of the rabid temperance advocates will deny a
place in medical practice to alcohol. But alcohol, fed daily and in
increasing doses to women and children, makes not for health, but for
drunkenness. Far better whiskey or gin unequivocally labeled than the
alcohol-laden "bitters," "sarsaparillas" and "tonics" which exhilerate
fatuous temperance advocates to the point of enthusiastic testimonials.
None of these "cures" really does cure any serious affection, although
a majority of their users recover. But a majority, and a very large
majority, of the sick recover, anyway. Were it not so--were one illness
out of fifty fatal--this earth would soon be depopulated.
As to Testimonials.
The ignorant drug-taker, returning to health from some disease which he
has overcome by the natural resistant powers of his body, dips his pen
in gratitude and writes his testimonial. The man who dies in spite of
the patent medicine--or perhaps because of it--doesn't bear witness to
what it did for him. We see recorded only the favorable results: the
unfavorable lie silent. How could it be otherwise when the only avenues
of publicity are controlled by the advertisers? So, while many of the
printed testimonials are genuine enough, they represent not the average
evidence, but the most glowing opinions which the nostrum vender
can obtain, and generally they are the expression of a low order of
intelligence. Read in this light, they are unconvincing enough. But the
innocent public regards them as the type, not the exception. "If that
cured Mrs. Smith of Oshgosh it may cure me," says the woman whose
symptoms, real or imaginary, are so feelingly described under the
picture. Lend ear to expert testimony from a certain prominent cure-all:
"They see my advertising. They read the testimonials. They are
convinced. They have faith in Peruna. It gives them a gentle stimulant
and so they get well."
There it is in a nutshell; the faith cure. Not the stimulant, but the
faith inspired by the advertisement and encouraged by the stimulant
does the work--or seems to do it. If the public drugger can convince his
patron {005}that she is well, she _is_ well--for his purposes. In the
case of such diseases as naturally tend to cure themselves, no greater
harm is done than the parting of a fool and his money. With rheumatism,
sciatica and that ilk, it means added pangs; with consumption, Bright's
disease and other serious disorders, perhaps needless death. No onus of
homicide is borne by the nostrum seller; probably the patient would have
died anyway; there is no proof that the patent bottle was in any way
responsible. Even if there were--and rare cases do occur where the
responsibility can be brought home--there is no warning to others,
because the newspapers are too considerate of their advertisers to
publish such injurious items.
The Magic "Red Clause."
With a few honorable exceptions the press of the United States is at the
beck and call of the patent medicines. Not only do the newspapers modify
news possibly affecting these interests, but they sometimes become their
active agents. F. J. Cheney, proprietor of Hall's Catarrh Cure, devised
some years ago a method of making the press do his fighting against
legislation compelling makers of remedies to publish their formulae, or
to print on the labels the dangerous drugs contained in the medicine--a
constantly recurring bugaboo of the nostrum-dealer. This scheme he
unfolded at a meeting of the Proprietary Association of America, of
which he is now president. He explained that he printed in red letters
on every advertising contract a clause providing that the contract
should become void in the event of hostile legislation, and he boasted
how he had used this as a club in a case where an Illinois legislator
had, as he put it, attempted to hold him for three hundred dollars on a
strike bill.
"I thought I had a better plan than this," said Mr. Cheney to his
associates, "so I wrote to about forty papers and merely said: 'Please
look at your contract with me and take note that if this law passes you
and I must stop doing business,' The next week every one of them had an
article and Mr. Man had to go."
So emphatically did this device recommend itself to the assemblage that
many of the large firms took up the plan, and now the "red clause" is a
familiar device in the trade. The reproduction printed on page 6 {p006}
is a fac-simile of a contract between Mr. Cheney's firm and the Emporia
_Gazette_, William Allen White's paper, which has since become one
of the newspapers to abjure the patent-medicine man and all his ways.
Emboldened by this easy coercion of the press, certain firms have since
used the newspapers as a weapon against "price-cutting," by forcing
them to refuse advertising of the stores which reduce rates on patent
medicines. Tyrannical masters, these heavy purchasers of advertising
space.
To what length daily journalism will go at the instance of the business
office was shown in the great advertising campaign of Paine's Celery
Compound, some years ago. The nostrum's agent called at the office of a
prominent Chicago newspaper and spread before its advertising manager a
full-page advertisement, with blank spaces in the center.
"We want some good, strong testimonials to fill out with," he said.
"You can get all of those you want, can't you?" asked the newspaper
manager.
"Can _you?_" returned the other. "Show me four or five strong ones from
local politicians and you get the ad."
Fake Testimonials.
That day reporters were assigned to secure testimonials with photographs
which subsequently appeared in the full-page advertisement as
promised. As for the men who permitted the use of their names for this
{006}purpose, several of them afterward admitted that they had
never tasted the "Compound," but that they were willing to sign the
testimonials for the joy of appearing in print as "prominent citizens."
Another Chicago newspaper compelled its political editor to tout for
fake indorsements of a nostrum. A man with an inside knowledge of the
patent-medicine business made some investigations into this phase of the
matter, and he declares that such procurement of testimonials became so
established as to have the force of a system, only two Chicago papers
being free from it.
[IMAGE ==>] {006}
To-day, he adds, a similar "deal" could | 1,434.73462 |
2023-11-16 18:40:58.7146590 | 2,189 | 12 |
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BACTERIA IN DAILY LIFE
BY
MRS. PERCY FRANKLAND
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL MICROSCOPICAL SOCIETY; HONORARY MEMBER OF BEDFORD
COLLEGE, UNIVERSITY OF LONDON;
JOINT AUTHOR OF "MICRO-ORGANISMS IN WATER," "THE LIFE OF PASTEUR,"
ETC.
"Spirits, when they please,
Can either sex assume, or both; so soft
And uncompounded is their essence pure,
Not tied or manacled with joint or limb,
Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,
Like cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they choose,
Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure,
Can execute their aery purposes,
And works of love or enmity fulfil."
MILTON.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1903
_All rights reserved_
Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores; _italics_. The cover of this ebook was created by the
transcriber and is hereby placed in the public domain.
PREFACE
The title of this little volume sufficiently explains its contents; it
only remains to add that much of the text has already appeared from
time to time in the form of popular articles in various magazines. It
has, however, been carefully revised and considerably added to in
parts where later researches have thrown further light upon the
subjects dealt with.
G. C. FRANKLAND
NORTHFIELD, WORCESTERSHIRE,
_November, 1902_
CONTENTS
PAGE
BACTERIOLOGY IN THE VICTORIAN ERA 1
WHAT WE BREATHE 34
SUNSHINE AND LIFE 65
BACTERIOLOGY AND WATER 93
MILK DANGERS AND REMEDIES 118
BACTERIA AND ICE 149
SOME POISONS AND THEIR PREVENTION 168
BACTERIA IN DAILY LIFE
BACTERIOLOGY IN THE VICTORIAN ERA
A little more than sixty years ago the scientific world received with
almost incredulous astonishment the announcement that "beer yeast
consists of small spherules which have the property of multiplying,
and are therefore a living and not a dead chemical substance, that
they further _appear_ to belong to the vegetable kingdom, and to be in
some manner intimately connected with the process of fermentation."
When Cagniard Latour communicated the above observations on yeast to
the Paris Academy of Sciences on June 12, 1837, the whole scientific
world was taken by storm, so great was the novelty, boldness, and
originality of the conception that these insignificant particles,
hitherto reckoned as of little or no account, should be endowed with
functions of such responsibility and importance as suggested by
Latour.
At the time when Latour sowed the first seeds of this great gospel of
fermentation, started curiously almost simultaneously across the Rhine
by Schwann and Kuetzing, its greatest subsequent apostle and champion
was but a schoolboy, exhibiting nothing more than a schoolboy's truant
love of play and distaste for lessons. Louis Pasteur was only a lad of
fifteen, buried in a little town in the provinces of France, whose
peace of mind was certainly not disturbed, or likely to be, by rumours
of any scientific discussion, however momentous, carried on in the
great, far-distant metropolis. Yet, some thirty and odd years later,
there was not a country in the whole world where Pasteur's name was
not known and associated with those classical investigations on
fermentation, in the pursuit of which he spent so many years of his
life, and which have proved of such incalculable benefit to the world
of commerce as well as science.
Thanks to Pasteur, we are no longer in doubt as to the nature of yeast
cells; so familiar, in fact, have we become with them, that at the
dawn of the twentieth century we are able to select at will those
particular varieties for which we have a predilection, and employ
those which will produce for us the special flavour we desire in our
wines or in our beers.
Large and splendidly-equipped laboratories exist for the express
purpose of studying all kinds and descriptions of yeasts, for finding
out their characteristic functions, and cultivating them with all the
tenderness and care that a modern gardener bestows upon the rarest
orchids.
All this is now an old story, but some sixty years ago the great
battle had yet to be fought which was to establish once and for all
the dependence of fermentation upon life, and vanquish for ever those
subtle arguments which so long refused to life any participation in
the work of fermentation and other closely allied phenomena.
When, however, Pasteur finally cleared away the debris of
misconception which had so long concealed from view the vital
character of the changes associated with these processes, the
bacterial ball, if we may so call it, was set rolling with a will, and
information concerning these minute particles of living matter was
rapidly gathered up from all directions.
The recognition so long refused to bacteria was now ungrudgingly
given, for it was realised at last that, in the words of M. Duclaux,
"Whenever and wherever there is decomposition of organic matter,
whether it be the case of a weed or an oak, of a worm or a whale, the
work is exclusively performed by infinitely small organisms. They are
the important, almost the only, agents of universal hygiene; they
clear away more quickly than the dogs of Constantinople or the wild
beasts of the desert the remains of all that has had life; they
protect the living against the dead. They do more; if there are still
living beings, if, since the hundreds of centuries the world has been
inhabited, life continues, it is to them we owe it."
Fortunately, the provisions made by Nature for the preservation of the
bacterial race are of so lavish a description that no fear need be
entertained that this useful and indispensable world of life will be
wiped out. The fabulous capacity for multiplication possessed by them
(a new generation arising in considerably less than an hour), the
powers of endurance which some of them exhibit in presence of the most
trying vicissitudes of heat and cold (they have been known to survive
exposure lasting for seven days to a temperature of about -200 deg. C.),
the inability of starvation or desiccation to undermine their
constitution, combine to render the question of the extinction of
bacteria as remote as it is undesirable.
Tempted by the prospects of exploring in this newly-revealed world of
life, investigators rushed into the field, and the bacterial fever has
been hardly less pronounced in these last years than that rush for a
material golden harvest which has characterised so many enterprises in
southern latitudes.
The scientific results of this microbe fever have happily, however,
been of a more solid and substantial character than can be said to
have followed the more tangible but sordid ventures in South African
mines. Vague hypotheses have given place to facts, and bacteria have
been brought more and more within the horizon of human knowledge,
thanks to the genius and untiring zeal of investigators all over the
world.
By mechanical improvements in microscopes, and subtle methods for
colouring bacteria, enabling us to study their form with precision, by
ingenious devices for supplying them with suitable food materials, or,
in other words, by the creation of bacterial nurseries, providing the
means for watching their growth and observing their distinctive habits
and character, this important branch of the vegetable kingdom has been
raised from obscurity to one of the principal places in our catalogue
of sciences, and Bacteriology has won for itself an individual footing
in the scientific curriculum of our great educational institutions,
and is represented in literature by such famous serials devoted to the
publication of bacterial and allied researches as the _Annales de
l'Institut Pasteur_, the _Centralblatt fuer Bakteriologie_, the
_Zeitschrift fuer Hygiene_, the _Annali d'Igiene Sperimentale_, and
other well-known journals which constitute an essential but
ever-increasing burden upon the library shelves as well as pocket of
the investigator.
Museums of bacteria have been established where not only specimens of
particular varieties of a permanent character for comparison and
reference can be obtained, but living cultivations of hundreds of
different micro-organisms are maintained; and only those who have had
the charge of bacteria can realise the enormous amount of skilled
labour involved in the catering for such a multitude, in which
individual likes and dislikes in regard to diet and treatment must, if
success is to be secured, be as carefully considered as is necessary
in the case of the most delicate and highly pampered patient.
Bacteria, by means of these depots, can, in fact, be bought or
exchanged by collectors with as much facility as postage stamps, with
the all-important difference that this collecting of bacteria is not a
mere mania or speculation, but serves a most useful purpose.
To the busy investigator who cannot afford either the time or space in
which to maintain a large bacterial family, it is of immense
convenience to be able to obtain at a moment's notice a trustworthy
culture, say, of typhoid or tuberculosis, or specimens of obscurer
origin from air or water for purposes of investigation. These
bacterial cultures are all guaranteed pure, free from contamination or
admixture with other and alien micro-organisms, and are strictly what
they are represented to be. Although such a declaration is attached to
many commodities at the present day with ludicrous incongruity | 1,434.734699 |
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CECILIA, Volume 1 (of 3)
or
MEMOIRS OF AN HEIRESS
By Frances Burney
PREFACE
"Fanny's Cecilia came out last summer, and is as much liked and read,
I believe, as any book ever was," wrote Charlotte Burney in Jan. 1783.
"She had 250 pounds for it from Payne and Cadell. Most people say she
ought to have had a thousand. It is now going into the third edition,
though Payne owns that they printed two thousand at the first edition,
and Lowndes told me five hundred was the common number for a novel."
[Footnote: _The Early Diary of Frances Burney, with a selection from her
correspondence, and from the journals of her sisters Susan and Charlotte
Burney._ Edited by Annie Raine Ellis. 1889. Vol. II. p. 307.]
The manuscript of _Cecilia_ was submitted to Dr Burney and Mr Crisp
during its composition, and their suggestions were in some cases
adopted, as we learn from the _Diary_. Dr Johnson was not consulted, but
a desire at once to imitate and to please him evidently controlled the
work.
Under these circumstances it is naturally less fresh and spontaneous
than _Evelina_, but it is more mature. The touch is surer and the plot
more elaborate. We cannot to-day fully appreciate the "conflict scene
between mother and son," for which, Miss Burney tells us, the book was
written; but the pictures of eighteenth century affectations are all
alive, and the story is thoroughly absorbing, except, perhaps, in the
last book.
Miss Burney often took the name of her characters from her
acquaintances, and it seems probable that some of the "types" in
_Cecilia_ are also drawn from real life. The title of Miss Austen's
_Pride and Prejudice_ was borrowed from _Cecilia_, and some points of
resemblance may be traced between the two novels.
The present edition is reprinted from:--
CECILIA, or, Memoirs of an Heiress. By the author of Evelina. In five
volumes. London: Printed for T. Payne and Son, at the Newsgate, and T.
Cadell in the Strand. MDCCLXXXII. R. B. J.
THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE TO MISS F. BURNEY. (AFTER READING CECILIA.)
Madam,--I should feel exceedingly to blame if I could refuse to myself
the natural satisfaction, and to you the just but poor return, of my
best thanks for the very great instruction and entertainment I have
received from the new present you have bestowed on the public. There
are few--I believe I may say fairly there are none at all--that will not
find themselves better informed concerning human nature, and their stock
of observation enriched, by reading your "Cecilia." They certainly will,
let their experience in life and manners be what it may. The arrogance
of age must submit to be taught by youth. You have crowded into a few
small volumes an incredible variety of characters; most of them well
planned, well supported, and well contrasted with each other. If there
be any fault in this respect, it is one in which you are in no great
danger of being imitated. Justly as your characters are drawn, perhaps
they are too numerous. But I beg pardon; I fear it is quite in vain
to preach economy to those who are come young to excessive and sudden
opulence.
I might trespass on your delicacy if I should fill my letter to you with
what I fill my conversation to others. I should be troublesome to you
alone if I should tell you all I feel and think on the natural vein of
humour, the tender pathetic, the comprehensive and noble moral, and the
sagacious observation, that appear quite throughout that extraordinary
performance.
In an age distinguished by producing extraordinary women, I hardly dare
to tell you where my opinion would place you amongst them. I respect
your modesty, that will not endure the commendations which your merit
forces from everybody.
I have the honour to be, with great gratitude, respect, and esteem,
madam, your most obedient and most humble servant,
EDM. BURKE
WHITEHALL, _July 19, 1782_.
My best compliments and congratulations to Dr Burney on the great honour
acquired to his family.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The indulgence shewn by the Public to Evelina, which, unpatronized,
unaided, and unowned, past through Four Editions in one Year, has
encouraged its Author to risk this SECOND attempt. The animation of
success is too universally acknowledged, to make the writer of
the following sheets dread much censure of temerity; though the
precariousness of any power to give pleasure, suppresses all vanity
of confidence, and sends CECILIA into the world with scarce more
hope, though far more encouragement, than attended her highly-honoured
predecessor, Evelina.
July, 1782
CHAPTER i
A JOURNEY.
"Peace to the spirits of my honoured parents, respected be their
remains, and immortalized their virtues! may time, while it moulders
their frail relicks to dust, commit to tradition the record of their
goodness; and Oh, may their orphan-descendant be influenced through life
by the remembrance of their purity, and be solaced in death, that by her
it was unsullied!"
Such was the secret prayer with which the only survivor of the Beverley
family quitted the abode of her youth, and residence of her forefathers;
while tears of recollecting sorrow filled her eyes, and obstructed the
last view of her native town which had excited them.
Cecilia, this fair traveller, had lately entered into the
one-and-twentieth year of her age. Her ancestors had been rich farmers
in the county of Suffolk, though her father, in whom a spirit of
elegance had supplanted the rapacity of wealth, had spent his time as a
private country gentleman, satisfied, without increasing his store, to
live upon what he inherited from the labours of his predecessors. She
had lost him in her early youth, and her mother had not long survived
him. They had bequeathed to her 10,000 pounds, and consigned her to the
care of the Dean of ------, her uncle. With this gentleman, in whom,
by various contingencies, the accumulated possessions of a rising and
prosperous family were centred, she had passed the last four years of
her life; and a few weeks only had yet elapsed since his death, which,
by depriving her of her last relation, made her heiress to an estate of
3000 pounds per annum; with no other restriction than that of annexing
her name, if she married, to the disposal of her hand and her riches.
But though thus largely indebted to fortune, to nature she had yet
greater obligations: her form was elegant, her heart was liberal; her
countenance announced the intelligence of her mind, her complexion
varied with every emotion of her soul, and her eyes, the heralds of
her speech, now beamed with understanding and now glistened with
sensibility.
For the short period of her minority, the management of her fortune
and the care of her person, had by the Dean been entrusted to three
guardians, among whom her own choice was to settle her residence: but
her mind, saddened by the loss of all her natural friends, coveted to
regain its serenity in the quietness of the country, and in the bosom
of an aged and maternal counsellor, whom she loved as her mother, and to
whom she had been known from her childhood.
The Deanery, indeed, she was obliged to relinquish, a long repining
expectant being eager, by entering it, to bequeath to another the
anxiety and suspense he had suffered himself; though probably without
much impatience to shorten their duration in favour of the next
successor; but the house of Mrs Charlton, her benevolent friend,
was open for her reception, and the alleviating tenderness of her
conversation took from her all wish of changing it.
Here she had dwelt since the interment of her uncle; and here, from the
affectionate gratitude of her disposition, she had perhaps been content
to dwell till her own, had not her guardians interfered to remove her.
Reluctantly she complied; she quitted her early companions, the friend
she most revered, and the spot which contained the relicks of all she
had yet lived to lament; and, accompanied by one of her guardians, and
attended by two servants, she began her journey from Bury to London.
Mr Harrel, this gentleman, though in the prime of his life, though gay,
fashionable and splendid, had been appointed by her uncle to be one of
her trustees; a choice which had for object the peculiar gratification
of his niece, whose most favourite young friend Mr Harrel had married,
and in whose house he therefore knew she would most wish to live.
Whatever good-nature could dictate or politeness suggest to dispel
her melancholy, Mr Harrel failed not to urge; and Cecilia, in whose
disposition sweetness was tempered with dignity, and gentleness with
fortitude, suffered not his kind offices to seem ineffectual; she kissed
her hand at the last glimpse a friendly hill afforded of her native
town, and made an effort to forget the regret with which she lost sight
of it | 1,434.745088 |
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's note: A few typographical errors have been corrected: they
are listed at the end of the text.
* * * * *
Page numbers enclosed by curly braces (example: {25}) have been
incorporated to facilitate the use of the Table of Contents and Index.
* * * * *
A SHORT HISTORY OF
ENGLISH LIBERALISM
BY
W. LYON BLEASE
_No rational man ever did govern himself by abstractions and
universals.... A statesman differs from a professor in an university;
the latter has only the general view of society.... A statesman, never
losing sight of principles, is to be guided by circumstances; and,
judging contrary to the exigencies of the moment, he may ruin his
country for ever._
BURKE, "On the Petition of the Unitarians."
T. FISHER UNWIN
LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE
LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20
* * * * *
TO
"THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN"
_First Published in 1913_
(_All rights reserved._)
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LIBERALISM AND TORYISM 7
II. POLITICAL CONDITIONS IN THE REIGN OF GEORGE III 42
III. THE FIRST MOVEMENT TOWARDS LIBERALISM 69
IV. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND ENGLISH OPINION 100
V. THE DECLINE OF TORYISM 142
VI. THE MIDDLE-CLASS SUPREMACY 168
VII. THE MANCHESTER SCHOOL AND PALMERSTON 190
VIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE GLADSTONE PERIOD 230
IX. GLADSTONE VERSUS DISRAELI 265
X. THE IMPERIALIST REACTION 294
XI. LIBERALISM SINCE 1906 324
* * * * *
{7}
A Short History of English Liberalism
CHAPTER I
LIBERALISM AND TORYISM
This book attempts to trace the varying but persistent course of Liberalism
in British politics during the last hundred and fifty years. It is not so
much a history of events as a reading of them in the light of a particular
political philosophy. In the strict sense a history of Liberalism should
cover much more than politics. The same habit of mind is to be discovered
everywhere else in the history of thought, most conspicuously in religious
history, but not less certainly in the history of science and of art. The
general victory in these innumerable conflicts of opinion has been to
Liberalism, and the movement of the race, during the period with which the
writer is concerned, is precisely measured by the degree in which the
Liberal spirit has succeeded in modifying the establishments of the
preceding age. The object of this book is to investigate the course of that
process of modification in politics.
By Liberalism I mean, not a policy, but a habit of mind. It is the
disposition of the man who looks upon each of his fellows as of equal worth
with himself. He does not assume that all men and women are of equal
capacity, or equally entitled to offices and privileges. But he is always
inclined to leave and to give them equal opportunity with himself for
self-expression and for self-development. He assumes, as the basis of his
activity, that he has no right to interfere with any other person's
attempts {8} to employ his natural powers in what he conceives to be the
best way. He is unwilling to impose his judgment upon that of others, or to
force them to live their lives according to his ideas rather than their
own. They are never to be used by him for his own ends, but for theirs.
Each is to be left to himself, to work out his own salvation. The Liberal
habit of mind has its positive as well as its negative side. Just as it
leads its possessor to refrain from interfering with the development of
others, so it leads him to take active steps to remove the artificial
barriers which impede that development. Natural obstacles will remain,
though even these may be diminished. But the artificial conditions, which
prevent or hinder growth, are perpetually obnoxious to the Liberal. Upon
class distinctions in society, privileges of sex, rank, wealth, and creed,
he wages unceasing war. They are, in his eye, weights and impediments. To
one of two individuals, not distinguishable in natural capacity, they give
an advantage which is denied to the other. It is the object of the Liberal,
not to deprive any individual of such opportunities as are required for the
exercise of his natural powers, but to prevent the excessive appropriation
of such opportunities by members of the privileged class. The differences
between the practical aims and methods of Liberals at different times are
very wide. But the mental habit has always been the same. "The passion for
improving mankind, in its ultimate object, does not vary. But the immediate
object of reformers and the forms of persuasion by which they seek to
advance them, vary much in different generations. To a hasty observer they
might even seem contradictory, and to justify the notion that nothing
better than a desire for change, selfish or perverse, is at the bottom of
all reforming movements. Only those who will think a little longer about it
can discern the same old cause of social good against class interests, for
which, under altered names, Liberals are fighting now as they were fifty
years ago."[1] The constitutional Liberalism of Fox, the economical
Liberalism of Cobden, and the new collectivist Liberalism of Mr. Lloyd {9}
George exhibit great differences in comparison. But the three men are alike
in their desire to set free the individual from existing social bonds, and
to procure him liberty of growth.
The justification for this individual freedom is not that the man is left
to his own selfish motives, to develop himself for his own advantage. It is
that it is only in this way that he can realize that his own best advantage
is only secured by consulting that of his fellows. "The foundation of
liberty is the idea of growth... it is of course possible to reduce a man
to order and prevent him from being a nuisance to his neighbours by
arbitrary control and harsh punishment.... It is also possible, though it
takes a much higher skill, to teach the same man to discipline himself, and
this is to foster the development of will, of personality, of self-control,
or whatever we please to call that central harmonizing power which makes us
capable of directing our own lives. Liberalism is the belief that society
can safely be founded on this self-directing power of personality."[2] This
Liberalism has nothing to do with anarchy. Coercion may be consistently
applied wherever individual liberty is employed for the public injury, and
the imprisonment of burglars and the regulation of factories by law are
only two aspects of the same thing. But Liberalism restricts freedom only
to extend freedom. Where the individual uses his own liberty to restrict
that of others he may be coerced. But in spite of the modifications to
which all such political principles must be subject, the general rule holds
good. The ideal Liberal State is that in which every individual is equally
free to work out his own life.
The practical difficulty of working out the relations between the
individual and the society in which he is placed is of course very great,
and it will probably always be impossible to maintain a perfect
equilibrium. No doubt we shall always suffer from one or other of the two
unsatisfying conditions--the sacrifice of the individual to what the
majority thinks to be the right of the whole society, and the sacrifice of
the {10} society to the undue emancipation of the individual. But the
necessary imperfection of the result is no argument against this or any
other political system of thought. Politics are no more than a means of
getting things done, and when we have found a society of perfect human
beings, we can fairly complain that their affairs are not perfectly
managed. So far as he can, the Liberal aims at securing this balance of
social and individual good, remembering that the good of society can only
be measured by the good of all its members, and not by the good only of
some dominant rank, creed, or class. "Rights are relative to the well-being
of society, but the converse proposition is equally true, that the
well-being of society may be measured by the degree in which their moral
rights are secured to its component members.... The moral right of an
individual is simply a condition of the full development of his personality
as a moral being. Equally, the moral right of any community is the
condition of the maintenance of its common life, and since that society is
best, happiest, and most progressive which enables its members to make the
utmost of themselves, there is no necessary conflict between them. The | 1,434.83884 |
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[Illustration: _The Man who could talk with the Birds_]
DROLLS
FROM SHADOWLAND
BY
J. H. PEARCE
_Author of "Esther Pentreath," "Inconsequent Lives," "Jaco Treloar,"
&c._
NEW YORK
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1893.
_All rights reserved._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE MAN WHO COINED HIS BLOOD INTO GOLD 1
AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY 15
THE MAN WHO COULD TALK WITH THE BIRDS 27
THE PURSUIT 39
A PLEASANT ENTERTAINMENT 49
THE MAN WHO DESIRED TO BE A TREE 61
THE MAN WHO HAD SEEN 73
THE UNCHRISTENED CHILD 85
THE MAN WHO MET HATE 95
THE HAUNTED HOUSE 109
GIFTS AND AWARDS 119
FRIEND OR FOE? 133
THE FIELDS OF AMARANTH 145
THE COMEDY OF A SOUL 155
THE MAN WHO COINED HIS BLOOD INTO GOLD.
THE yoke of Poverty galled him exceedingly, and he hated his
taskmistress with a most rancorous hatred.
As he climbed up or down the dripping ladders, descending from sollar to
sollar towards the level where he worked, he would set his teeth grimly
that he might not curse aloud--an oath underground being an invitation
to the Evil One--but in his heart the muffled curses were audible
enough. And when he was at work in the dreary level, with the darkness
lying on his shoulder like a hand, and the candles shining unsteadily
through the gloom, like little evil winking eyes, he brooded so moodily
over his bondage to Poverty, that he desired to break from it at any
cost.
"I'd risk a lem for its weight in gowld: darned ef I wedn'!" he muttered
savagely, as he dug at the stubborn rock with his pick.
He could hear the sounds of blasting in other levels--the explosions
travelling to him in a muffled boom--and above him, for he was working
beneath the bed of the ocean, he could faintly distinguish the grinding
of the sea as the huge waves wallowed and roared across the beach.
"I'm sick to death o' this here life," he grumbled; "I'd give a haand or
a' eye for a pot o' suvrins. Iss, I'd risk more than that," he added
darkly: letting the words ooze out as if under his breath.
At that moment his pick detached a piece of rock which came crashing
down on the floor of the level, splintering into great jagged fragments
as it fell.
He started back with an exclamation of uncontrollable surprise. The
falling rock had disclosed the interior of a cavern whose outlines were
lost in impenetrable gloom, but which here and there in a vague fashion,
as it caught the light of the candle flickering in his hat, seemed to
sparkle as if its walls were crusted with silver.
"Lor' Jimmeny, this es bra' an' queer!" he gasped.
As he leaned on his pick, peering into the cavern with covetous eyes,
but with a wildly-leaping heart, he was aware of an odd movement among
the shadows which were elusively outlined by the light of his dip.
It was almost as though some of them had an independent individuality,
and could have detached themselves from their roots if they wished.
It was certain a squat, hump-backed blotch, that was sprawling blackly
beside a misshapen block, was either wriggling on the floor as if trying
to stand upright... or else there was something wrong with his eyes.
He stared at the wavering gloom in the cavern, with its quaint, angular
splashes of glister, where heads of quartz and patches of mundic caught
the light from the unsteady flame of the candle, and presently he was
_certain_ that the shadows were alive.
Most of all he was sure that the little hump-backed oddity had risen to
its feet and was a veritable creature: an actual uncouth, shambling
grotesque, instead of a mere flat blotch of shadow.
Up waddled the little hump-back to the hole in the wall where Joel stood
staring, leaning on his pick.
"What can I do for'ee, friend?" he asked huskily: his voice sounding
faint, hoarse, and muffled, as if it were coming from an immense
distance, or as if the squat little frame had merely borrowed it for the
nonce.
Joel stared at the speaker, with his lower jaw dropping.
"What can I do for'ee, friend?" asked the hump-back; peering at the
grimy, half-naked miner, with his little ferrety eyes glowing
luminously.
Joel moistened his lips with his tongue before he answered. "Nawthin',
plaise, sir," he gasped out, quakingly.
"Nonsense, my man!" said the hump-back pleasantly, rubbing his hands
cheerfully together as he spoke. And Joel noticed that the fingers,
though long and skinny--almost wrinkled and lean enough, in fact, to
pass for claws--were adorned with several sparkling rings. "Nonsense, my
man! I'm your friend--if you'll let me be. O never mind my hump, if it's
that that's frightening you, I got that through a fall a long while
ago," and the lean brown face puckered into a smile. "Come! In what way
can I oblige'ee, friend? I can grant you any wish you like. Say the
word--and it's done! Just think what you could do if you had heaps of
money, now--piles of suvrins in that owld chest in your bedroom,
instead o' they paltry two-an'-twenty suvrins which you now got heeded
away in the skibbet."
Joel stared at the speaker with distended eyes: the great beads of
perspiration gathering on his forehead.
"How ded'ee come to knaw they was there?" he asked.
"I knaw more than that," said the hump-back, laughing. "I could tell'ee
a thing or two, b'leeve, if I wanted to. I knaw tin,[A] cumraade, as
well as the next." And with that he began to chuckle to himself.
"Wedn'ee like they two-an'-twenty suvrins in the skibbet made a
hunderd-an'-twenty?" asked the hump-back insinuatingly.
"Iss, by Gosh, I should!" said Joel.
"Then gi'me your haand on it, cumraade; an' you shall have 'em!"
"Here goes, then!" said Joel, thrusting out his hand.
The hump-back seized the proffered hand in an instant, covering the
grimy fingers with his own lean claws.
"Oh, le'go! _le'go!_" shouted Joel.
The hump-back grinned; his black eyes glittering.
"I waan't be niggardly to'ee, cumraade," said he. "Every drop o' blood
you choose to shed for the purpose shall turn into a golden suvrin
for'ee--there!"
"Darn'ee! thee ben an' run thy nails in me--see!"
And Joel shewed a drop of blood oozing from his wrist.
"Try the charm, man! Wish! Hold un out, an' say, _Wan_!"
Joel held out his punctured wrist mechanically.
"Wan!"
There was a sudden gleam--and down dropped a sovereign: a bright gold
coin that rang sharply as it fell.
"Try agen!" said the hump-back, grinning delightedly.
Joel stooped first to pick up the coin, and bit it eagerly.
"Ay, good Gosh! 'tes gowld, sure 'nuff!"
"Try agen!" said the hump-back "Make up a pile!"
Joel held out his wrist and repeated the formula.
"Wan!"
And another coin clinked at his feet.
"I needn' wait no longer, s'pose?" said the hump-back.
"Wan!" cried Joel. And a third coin dropped.
He leaned on his pick and kept coining his blood eagerly, till presently
there was quite a little pile at his feet.
The hump-back watched him intently for a time: but Joel appeared to be
oblivious of his presence; and the squat little figure stealthily
disappeared.
The falling coins kept chiming melodiously, till presently the great
stalwart miner had to lean against the wall of the level to support
himself. So tired as he was, he had never felt before. But give over his
task he either could not, or would not. The chink of the gold-pieces he
must hear if he died for it. He looked down at them greedily. "Wan!...
Wan!... Wan!..."
Presently he tottered, and fell over on his heap.
At that same moment the halting little hump-back stole out from the
shadows immediately behind him, and leaned over Joel, rubbing his hands
gleefully.
"I must catch his soul," said the little black man.
And with that he turned Joel's head round sharply, and held his hand to
the dying man's mouth.
Just then there fluttered up to Joel's lips a tiny yellow flame, which,
for some reason or other, seemed as agitated as if it had a human
consciousness. One might almost have imagined it perceived the little
hump-back, and knew full well who and what he was.
But there on Joel's lips the flame hung quivering. And now a deeper
shadow fell upon his face.
Surely the tiny thing shuddered with horror as the hump-back's black
paws closed upon it!
But, in any case, it now was safely prisoned. And the little black man
laughed long and loudly.
"Not so bad a bargain after all!" chuckled he.
FOOTNOTE:
[A] To "_knaw tin_" is among the miners of Cornwall a sign of, and a
colloquial euphemism for, _cleverness_.
AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY.
THE performance was over: the curtain had descended and the spectators
had dispersed.
There had been a slight crush at the doors of the theatre, and what with
the abrupt change from the pleasant warmth and light of the interior to
the sharp chill of the night outside, Preston shivered, and a sudden
weakness smote him at the joints.
The crowd on the pavement in front of the theatre melted away with
unexampled rapidity, in fact, seemed almost to waver and disappear as
if the _mise en scene_ had changed in some inexplicable way.
A hansom drove up, and Preston stepped into it heavily, glancing
drowsily askance at the driver as he did so.
Seated up there, barely visible in the gloom, the driver had an almost
grisly aspect, humped with waterproof capes, and with such a lean, white
face. Preston, as he glanced at him, shivered again.
The trap-door above him opened softly, and the colourless face peered
down at him curiously.
"Where to, sir?" asked the hollow voice.
Preston leaned back wearily. "Home," he replied.
It did not strike him as anything strange or unusual, that the driver
asked no questions but drove off without a word. He was very weary, and
he wanted to rest.
The sleepless hum of the city was abidingly in his ears, and the lamps
that dotted the misty pavements stared at him blinkingly all along the
route. The tall black buildings rose up grimly into the night; the faces
that flitted to and fro along the pavements, kept ever sliding past him,
melting into the darkness; and the cabs and 'buses, still astir in the
streets, had a ghostly air as they vanished in the gloom.
Preston lay back, weary in every joint, a drowsy numbness settling on
his pulse. He had faith in his driver: he would bring him safely home.
Presently they were at one of the wharves beside the river: Preston
could hear the gurgle of the water around the piles.
Not this way had he ever before gone homeward. He looked out musingly on
the | 1,434.941432 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
SOUND MIND;
OR,
_CONTRIBUTIONS_
TO THE
NATURAL HISTORY AND PHYSIOLOGY
OF THE
HUMAN INTELLECT.
By JOHN HASLAM, M.D.
LATE OF PEMBROKE HALL, CAMBRIDGE:
FORMERLY PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL MEDICAL, NATURAL HISTORY,
AND CHEMICAL SOCIETIES OF EDINBURGH.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1819.
Printed by Strahan and Spottiswoode,
Printers-Street, London.
TO
SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH, M.P.
DEAR SIR,
The privilege of long acquaintance, and a sufficient experience of the
kindness of your disposition, might be an adequate inducement to
dedicate the following pages to your notice. To this offering, I am
however impelled by motives, which boast a higher descent, and more
enlightened character:--an admiration of your superior talents, and the
adaptation of those excellent endowments, to the advancement and
happiness of the human race,--and by which you have been enabled
"The applause of listening senates to command."
The subjects to which I now solicit the permission of prefixing your
name, were once your favourite study; and I am induced to consider your
profound researches into the nature and constitution of the human
intellect, as the basis of that high reputation, you now so deservedly
maintain among the wise and dignified of your contemporaries.
I am, Dear Sir,
with respect, esteem,
and the kindest feelings,
Your very obedient servant,
JOHN HASLAM.
PREFACE.
The indulgence of the public has been already extended to several works
which I have submitted to its decision on the subject of INSANITY; and
the same favourable interpretation is now solicited for the present
performance,--which attempts the more difficult investigation of SOUND
MIND. In treating of Mental Derangement, I became very early sensible,
that a competent knowledge of the faculties and operations of the
Intellect in its healthy state, was indispensably necessary to him, who
professed to describe its disorders:--that in order to define the
aberrations, the standard should be fixed. There was indeed no lack of
theories and systems of Metaphysic; and although they essentially
differed, many possessed the highest reputation. Amidst this distraction
of conflicting opinions, which no mediator could adequately
reconcile,--without daring to contend with a host of discrepancies, or
presuming to demolish the lofty edifices which scholastic Pneumatology
had reared,--I determined to throw off the shackles of authority, and
think for myself. For it was evident, on the freehold ground of
literature, that there is "ample room and verge enough" for every man to
build his own tenement;--and the present construction is too lowly to
intercept another's prospect, and without those ornaments that might
provoke the jealousy, or challenge the rivalship of surrounding
inhabitants.
The mind of every rational person may be considered as an elaboratory,
wherein he may conduct psychological experiments:--he is enabled to
analyze his own acquirement,--and if he be sufficiently attentive, he
may note its formation and progress in his children:--and thus trace the
accumulation of knowledge, from the dawn of infancy to the meridian of
manhood. The prosecution of these means, according to my own views, will
qualify the diligent observer, to become the Natural Historian and
Physiologist of the Human Mind.
In the comparative survey of the capacities of Man, and the intelligence
of animals, the contrast has appeared so striking, that it was
impossible wholly to abstain from the inference of his future
destination:--notwithstanding very different conclusions had been
extorted by some modern physiologists. It has been often remarked, that
the practitioners of the healing art, have been very moderately
impressed with a solicitude for the future. This observation, in some
late instances, has been unhappily confirmed:--but it would be unjust to
visit the whole tribe with a sweeping and acrimonious censure, for the
transgressions of a few. The reproach has, however, long existed. The
venerable father of English poetry, in his description of the Doctor,
has passed a high and merited compliment to his learning; which at that
period was a heterogeneous compound of Greek, Latin, and Arabian lore,
mysteriously engrafted on Galenicals and Astrology:--yet with this
courteous concession to his professional science he could not refrain
from a dry and sarcastic memorandum, that
"His study was but little in the Bible."
Throughout this inquiry, the province of the Theologian has never been
invaded:--it has been my humble toil to collect and concentrate the
scattered rays which emanate from natural reason,--a pale phosphoric
light, and "uneffectual" glow, compared with the splendid and animating
beams, which issue from the source of divine communication.
As the object of these contributions, has been principally to convey my
opinions, concerning the formation of the human mind, from the superior
capacities that man possesses, many subjects have been left untouched,
which, in similar works, urge an important claim to the attention of the
reader. Among these neglected articles, the IMAGINATION is the chief
omission:--of which many authors have treated so copiously, and so well.
According to my own views, the consideration of this faculty was not
essential to the outline that has been traced;--and it has been rather
deemed a graceful embellishment, than a constituent pillar of the
edifice of mind. This gay attirer of thought, that decks passion and
sentiment, is also the prolific parent of fiction;--and justly banished
from the retreats of sober demonstration.--To the science of
numbers,--to mathematical precision, and to the whole range of
experimental philosophy,--Imagination does not lend her glowing and
gaudy tints. No vestiges of her colouring can be discovered in Divine
ordinances, or in the systems of human jurisprudence:--neither in the
Ten Commandments nor in the Statutes at Large. Imagination may indeed
enliven the cold pages of historical narrative, and blend the "Utile
Dulci"--but even here she is a profane intruder: and a vigilant eye must
be directed, lest, in some unguarded moment, her seductive
blandishments should decoy the nakedness of truth. A sedate and
unambitious recorder of facts, does not presume to describe her regions,
or to enumerate her attributes. That delightful task must be performed
by her votaries,
"The poet, the lunatic, and the lover;"
nor should the Orator be excluded from his fair participation and
kindred alliance with this airy and fascinating group.
If the present essay should conform to nature, and be founded in
truth,--should it assist the young inquirer, and more especially the
medical student,--for whom no compendium of the science of mind has been
hitherto prepared; my own expectations will be fully answered; and this
scantling may probably lead some more capable person to an extensive
investigation, enlarged comprehension, and luminous arrangement of the
phenomena of the human intellect.
JOHN HASLAM.
57. Frith-Street, Soho-Square,
1st November, 1819.
CONTENTS.
Page
Perception 1
Memory 16
On the intellectual superiority which man has
acquired by speech, and the possession of the
hand 28
On the nature and composition of language, as
applied to the investigation of the phenomena
of mind 59
On will or volition 74
On thought or reflection 110
On reason 135
Instinct 160
Conclusion 182
_Works by the same Author._
I. Observations on Madness and Melancholy.
II. Illustrations of Madness.
III. On the Moral Management of the Insane.
IV. Medical Jurisprudence, as it relates to Insanity.
V. A Letter to the Governors of Bethlem Hospital.
SOUND MIND.
PERCEPTION.
The faculty of perceiving the objects which surround us, is an important
feature in the history of mind; but by what means or contrivance this is
effected, can only be known to the Supreme Being, who has thus been
pleased to endow us; and our utmost endeavours to detect the _modus
operandi_ will be puerile and unavailing.
The first operations of the infant are to educate its senses, in order
to become acquainted, through these organs, with surrounding objects.
This, in the human species, is a process of very slow attainment; and
our information concerning this subject, must be derived from
attentively watching the progress of the infant itself; as of these
early perceptions, for a reason which will be afterwards assigned, we
retain no distinct recollection.
For the manner in which we become acquainted with the objects in nature,
we have appropriated a term, which was probably supposed to be
explanatory of the process, by which we received our intelligence of
these phenomena, and have accordingly termed it _Perception_. The
intrinsic meaning of this word is the taking, seizing, or grasping, of
an object, from the Latin _Cum_ and _Capio_, and the same figure
pervades most of the European languages. This term may sufficiently
apply to the information we derive from the organ of touch; but it
affords no solution of that which we obtain through the medium of the
other senses, as sight, smell, and hearing. It has been the bane of
philosophy, and the great obstacle to its advancement, that we have
endeavoured to penetrate that which is inscrutable; and in this vain
pursuit, we have neglected to detect and cultivate that which is
obvious, and the legitimate province of our research.
These organs of sense are the instruments by which we obtain our
different perceptions; they are the tests by which we become acquainted
with the objects of nature.
When we view the newly-born infant, and consider its state for many
weeks after it has become a member of our community, we are then
enabled to form some opinion of the almost insensible gradations, by
which it acquires its perceptions. An enumeration of the progressive
steps of this tardy process is within the power of any patient and
accurate observer; but this detail does not constitute a part of the
plan which has been adopted.
It has been endeavoured by writers on this subject, to establish a
distinction between perception and sensation, and the reader for his
information may consult their works: they do not however appear to have
founded this distinction on any obvious difference, nor to have adduced
sufficient reasons for their separate establishment, as independent
properties of the nerves. To feel, to experience a sensation, or to
perceive, implies consciousness; it is that which is transmitted by the
nerves to the sensorium, either by the organs of sense, or by the
internal nerves; as pain, or feelings of which we are conscious.
Consciousness is the test, the evidence, the proof of sensation or
perception. This point has been adverted to, in order that terms should
not be multiplied without a distinct and essential difference of
meaning.
The five senses, together with some auxiliaries, which will be the
subjects of future notice, may be considered as the instruments or
agents, by which the edifice of mind is constructed. In the act of
perceiving by the different senses, there are some circumstances, which
are particularly deserving of attention. In order that perception may
fully and certainly take place, it is necessary that the person should
be undisturbed; he ought to be exempt from external intrusions, and
internal perturbation. During this process the respiration is in general
more slowly drawn, the body endeavours to maintain a perfect quietude,
and its position becomes fixed. When we perceive objects by the eye,
this organ becomes fixed and the lips are usually closed. During our
examinations by the touch, the eye is also fixed, the breathing is
suspended, and the lips brought into contact: the fingers are separated,
and their more delicately tangent surfaces applied to the object with
their utmost expansion. In the exercise of audible perception, the neck
is stretched forth, and the ear applied to the quarter from whence the
sound appears to issue; the mouth is partly open to conduct the
vibrations to the Eustachian tube. When we acquire intelligence by the
smell, the lips are very firmly closed, the nostrils become dilated, and
the inspiration of air through them is conducted by short and successive
inhalations. From the connection between the smell and organs of taste,
(and this association is more remarkable in some animals than in man,)
it is difficult to describe the process, which, however, principally
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. =Bold font= is
indicated with the ‘=’ character.
Footnotes are limited to a single quoted passage, and have been
relocated to follow that passage.
Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding
the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.
TOBACCO:
GROWING, CURING, AND MANUFACTURING.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TOBACCO:
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Produced by Emmy, MWS and the Online Distributed
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Internet Archive)
By Clara Louise Burnham
CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25, _net_. Postage
extra.
FLUTTERFLY. Illustrated. Square 12mo, 75 cents.
THE LEAVEN OF LOVE. With frontispiece in color. 12mo,
$1.50.
THE QUEST FLOWER. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.
THE OPENED SHUTTERS. With frontispiece in color. 12mo,
$1.50.
JEWEL: A CHAPTER IN HER LIFE. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50.
JEWEL’S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.50.
THE RIGHT PRINCESS. 12mo, $1.50.
MISS PRITCHARD’S WEDDING TRIP. 12mo, $1.50.
YOUNG MAIDS AND OLD. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
DEARLY BOUGHT. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
NO GENTLEMEN. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
A SANE LUNATIC. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
NEXT DOOR. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
THE MISTRESS OF BEECH KNOLL. 16mo,$1.25; paper, 50
cents.
MISS BAGG’S SECRETARY. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
DR. LATIMER. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
SWEET CLOVER. A Romance of the White City. 16mo, $1.25;
paper, 50 cents.
THE WISE WOMAN. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
MISS ARCHER ARCHER. 16mo, $1.25.
A GREAT LOVE. A Novel, 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.
A WEST POINT WOOING, and Other Stories. 16mo, $1.25.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
CLEVER BETSY
[Illustration: SHE SANK INTO THE ARMS THAT CLASPED HER]
CLEVER BETSY
A Novel
by
Clara Louise Burnham
With Illustrations by
Rose O’Neill
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1910
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published September 1910_
CONTENTS
I. OPENING THE COTTAGE 1
II. MISTRESS AND MAID 16
III. IRVING BRUCE 27
IV. MRS. POGRAM CONFIDES 38
V. ROSALIE VINCENT 47
VI. THE LAST STAGE 62
VII. THE NATIONAL PARK 75
VIII. THE BLONDE HEAVER 87
IX. THE FOUNTAIN HOUSE 102
X. ON THE RIVERSIDE 117
XI. FACE TO FACE 131
XII. THE FAITHFUL GEYSER 150
XIII. THE HEIRESS 160
XIV. THE LOOKOUT 176
XV. AN EXODUS 189
XVI. BETSY’S GIFT 202
XVII. SUNRISE 217
XVIII. HOMEWARD BOUND 232
XIX. MRS. BRUCE’S HEADACHE 246
XX. BETSY’S APPEAL 258
XXI. A RAINY EVENING 270
XXII. THE WHITE DOVE 282
XXIII. THE DANCE 296
XXIV. THE CLASH 313
XXV. WHITE SWEET PEAS 327
XXVI. IN BETSY’S ROOM 338
XXVII. BETSY RECEIVES 355
XXVIII. GOOD-BY, SUMMER 369
XXIX. THE NEW YEAR 387
CLEVER BETSY
CHAPTER I
OPENING THE COTTAGE
“HELLO there!” The man with grizzled hair and bronzed face under a
shabby yachting-cap stopped in his leisurely ramble up the street of
a seaport village, and his eyes lighted at sight of a spare feminine
figure, whose lean vigorous arms were shaking a long narrow rug at a
cottage gate. “Ahoy there—The Clever Betsy!” he went on.
The energetic woman vouchsafed a sidewise twist of her mouth intended
for a smile, but did not cease from her labors, and a cloud of dust met
the hastened approach of the seaman.
“Here, there’s enough o’ that! Don’t you know your captain?” he went
on, dodging the woolen fringe which snapped near his dark cheek.
“_My_ captain!” retorted the energetic one, while the rug billowed
still more wildly. She was a woman of his own middle age, and the cloth
tied around her head did not add to her charms; but the man’s eyes
softened as they rested on her.
“Here! You carry too much sail. Take a reef!” he cried; and deftly
snatching the rug, in an instant it was trailing on the walk behind
him, while Betsy Foster stared, offended.
“How long ye been here, Betsy?”
“A couple o’ days,” replied the woman, adjusting the cheese-cloth
covering more firmly behind her ears.
“Why didn’t ye let a feller know?”
“Thought I wouldn’t trouble trouble till trouble troubled me.”
The man smiled. “The Clever Betsy,” he said musingly. They regarded one
another for a silent moment. “Why ain’t ye ever clever to me?”
She sniffed.
“Why don’t ye fat up some?” he asked again.
“If I was as lazy as you are, probably I should,” she returned, with
the sidewise grimace appearing again, and the breeze from the wide
ocean a stone’s throw away ruffling the sparse straight locks that
escaped from her headdress.
“Goin’ to marry me this time, Betsy?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Same old reason.”
“But I _tell_ ye,” said the man, in half-humorous, half-earnest appeal,
“I’ve told ye a dozen times I didn’t know which I liked best then. If
you’d happened to go home from singin’-school with me that night it
would ’a’ ben you.”
“And I say it ain’t proper respect to Annie’s memory for you to talk
that way.”
“I ain’t disrespectful. There never were two such nice girls in one
village before. I nearly grew wall-eyed tryin’ to look at you both at
once. Annie and I were happy as clams for fifteen years. She’s been
gone five, and I’ve asked ye four separate times if you’d go down the
hill o’ life with me, and there ain’t any sense in your refusin’ and
flappin’ rugs in my face.”
“You know I don’t like this sort o’ foolin’, Hiram. I wish you’d be
done with it.”
“I ain’t ever goin’ to be done with it, Betsy, not while you live and I
live.”
“Have some sense,” she rejoined. “We both made our choice when we were
young and we must abide by it— | 1,435.038861 |
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Produced by David Widger
SAILORS' KNOTS
By W.W. Jacobs
1909
"MATRIMONIAL OPENINGS"
Mr. Dowson sat by the kitchen fire smoking and turning a docile and well-
trained ear to the heated words which fell from his wife's lips.
"She'll go and do the same as her sister Jenny done," said Mrs. Dowson,
with a side glance at her daughter Flora; "marry a man and then 'ave to
work and slave herself to skin and bone to keep him."
"I see Jenny yesterday," said her husband, nodding. "Getting quite fat,
she is."
"That's right," said Mrs. Dowson, violently, "that's right! The moment I
say something you go and try and upset it."
"Un'ealthy fat, p'r'aps," said Mr. Dowson, hurriedly; "don't get enough
exercise, I s'pose."
"Anybody who didn't know you, Joe Dowson," said his wife, fiercely,
"would think you was doing it a purpose."
"Doing wot?" inquired Mr. Dowson, removing his pipe and regarding her
open-mouthed. "I only said----"
"I know what you said," retorted his wife. "Here I do my best from
morning to night to make everybody 'appy and comfortable; and what
happens?"
"Nothing," said the sympathetic Mr. Dowson, shaking his head. "Nothing."
"Anyway, Jenny ain't married a fool," said Mrs. Dowson, hotly; "she's got
that consolation."
"That's right, mother," said the innocent Mr. Dowson, "look on the bright
side o' things a bit. If Jenny 'ad married a better chap I don't suppose
we should see half as much of her as wot we do."
"I'm talking of Flora," said his wife, restraining herself by an effort.
"One unfortunate marriage in the family is enough; and here, instead o'
walking out with young Ben Lippet, who'll be 'is own master when his
father dies, she's gadding about with that good-for-nothing Charlie
Foss."
Mr. Dowson shook his head. "He's so good-looking, is Charlie," he said,
slowly; "that's the worst of it. Wot with 'is dark eyes and his curly
'air----"
"Go on!" said his wife, passionately, "go on!"
Mr. Dowson, dimly conscious that something was wrong, stopped and puffed
hard at his pipe. Through the cover of the smoke he bestowed a
sympathetic wink upon his daughter.
"You needn't go on too fast," said the latter, turning to her mother. "I
haven't made up my mind yet. Charlie's looks are all right, but he ain't
over and above steady, and Ben is steady, but he ain't much to look at."
"What does your 'art say?" inquired the sentimental Mr. Dowson.
Neither lady took the slightest notice.
"Charlie Foss is too larky," said Mrs. Dowson, solemnly; "it's easy come
and easy go with 'im. He's just such another as your father's cousin
Bill--and look what 'appened to him!"
Miss Dowson shrugged her shoulders and subsiding in her chair, went on
with her book, until a loud knock at the door and a cheerful, but
peculiarly shrill, whistle sounded outside.
[Illustration: "Miss Dowson, subsiding in her chair, went on with her
book."]
"There is my lord," exclaimed Mrs. Dowson, waspishly; "anybody might
think the 'ouse belonged to him. And now he's dancing on my clean
doorstep."
"Might be only knocking the mud off afore coming in," said Mr. Dowson, as
he rose to open the door. "I've noticed he's very careful."
"I just came in to tell you a joke," said Mr. Foss, as he followed his
host into the kitchen and gazed tenderly at Miss Dowson--"best joke I
ever had in my life; I've 'ad my fortune told--guess what it was! I've
been laughing to myself ever since."
"Who told it?" inquired Mrs. Dowson, after a somewhat awkward silence.
"Old gypsy woman in Peter Street," replied Mr. Foss. "I gave 'er a wrong
name and address, just in case she might ha' heard about me, and she did
make a mess of it; upon my word she did."
"Wot did she say?" inquired Mr. Dowson.
Mr. Foss laughed. "Said I was a wrong 'un," he said, cheerfully, "and
would bring my mother's gray hairs to the grave with sorrow. I'm to 'ave
bad companions and take to drink; I'm to steal money to gamble with, and
after all that I'm to 'ave five years for bigamy. I told her I was
disappointed I wasn't to be hung, and she said it would be a
disappointment to a lot of other people too. Laugh! I thought I should
'ave killed myself."
"I don't see nothing to laugh at," said Mrs. Dowson, coldly.
"I shouldn't tell anybody else, Charlie," said her husband. "Keep it a
secret, my boy."
"But you--you don't believe it?" stammered the crestfallen Mr. Foss.
Mrs. Dowson cast a stealthy glance at her daughter. "Its wonderful 'ow
some o' those fortune-tellers can see into the future," she said, shaking
her head.
"Ah!" said her husband, with a confirmatory nod. "Wonderful is no name
for it. I 'ad my fortune told once when I was a boy, and she told me I
should marry the prettiest, and the nicest, and the sweetest-tempered gal
in Poplar."
Mr. Foss, with a triumphant smile, barely waited for him to finish.
"There you--" he began, and stopped suddenly.
[Illustration: "I just came in to tell you a joke."]
"What was you about to remark?" inquired Mrs. Dowson, icily.
"I was going to say," replied Mr. Foss--"I was going to say--I 'ad just
got it on the tip o' my tongue to say, 'There you--you--you 'ad all the
luck, Mr. Dowson.'"
He edged his chair a little nearer to Flora; but there was a chilliness
in the atmosphere against which his high spirits strove in vain. Mr.
Dowson remembered other predictions which had come true, notably the case
of one man who, learning that he was to come in for a legacy, gave up a
two-pound-a-week job, and did actually come in for twenty pounds and a
bird-cage seven years afterwards.
[Illustration: "He edged his chair a little nearer to Flora."]
"It's all nonsense," protested Mr. Foss; "she only said all that because
I made fun of her. You don't believe it, do you, Flora?"
"I don't see anything to laugh at," returned Miss Dowson. "Fancy five
years for bigamy! Fancy the disgrace of it!"
"But you're talking as if I was going to do it," objected Mr. Foss. "I
wish you'd go and 'ave your fortune told. Go and see what she says about
you. P'r'aps you won't believe so much in fortune-telling afterwards."
Mrs. Dowson looked up quickly, and then, lowering her eyes, took her hand
out of the stocking she had been darning and, placing it beside its
companion, rolled the pair into a ball.
"You go round to-morrow night, Flora," she said, deliberately. "It
sha'n't be said a daughter of mine was afraid to hear the truth about
herself; father'll find the money."
"And she can say what she likes about you, but I sha'n't believe it,"
said Mr. Foss, reproachfully.
"I don't suppose it'll be anything to be ashamed of," said Miss Dowson,
sharply.
Mr. Foss bade them good-night suddenly, and, finding himself accompanied
to the door by Mr. Dowson, gave way to gloom. He stood for so long with
one foot on the step and the other on the mat that Mr. Dowson, who
disliked draughts, got impatient.
[Illustration: "Mr. Foss bade them good-night suddenly."]
"You'll catch cold, Charlie," he said at last.
"That's what I'm trying to do," said Mr. Foss; "my death o' cold. Then I
sha'n't get five years for bigamy," he added bitterly.
"Cheer up," said Mr. Dowson; "five years ain't much out of a lifetime;
and you can't expect to 'ave your fun without--"
He watched the retreating figure of Mr. Foss as it stamped its way down
the street, and closing the door returned to the kitchen to discuss
palmistry and other sciences until bedtime.
Mrs. Dowson saw husband and daughter off to work in the morning, and
after washing up the breakfast things drew her chair up to the kitchen
fire and became absorbed in memories of the past. All the leading
incidents in Flora's career passed in review before her. Measles,
whooping-cough, school-prizes, and other things peculiar to the age of
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Transcriber's note:
1. Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
2. A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
single character following the carat is superscripted
(example: 1^2).
3. Mixed fractions in this text version are indicated with
a hyphen and forward slash. For example, four and a half
is represented by 4-1/2.
4. The original text includes Greek characters. For this
text version these letters have been replaced with
transliterations.
THE HISTORY OF ANTIQUITY.
From the German of
PROFESSOR MAX DUNCKER,
by
Evelyn Abbott, M.A., LL.D.,
Fellow And Tutor Of Balliol College, Oxford.
VOL. IV.
London:
Richard Bentley & Son, New Burlington Street,
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.
1880.
Bungay:
Clay and Taylor, Printers.
CONTENTS.
BOOK V.
_THE ARIANS ON THE INDUS AND THE GANGES._
CHAPTER I. PAGE
THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE 1
CHAPTER II.
THE ARYAS ON THE INDUS 27
CHAPTER III.
THE CONQUEST OF THE LAND OF THE GANGES 65
CHAPTER IV.
THE FORMATION AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE ORDERS 110
CHAPTER V.
THE OLD AND THE NEW RELIGION 154
CHAPTER VI.
THE CONSTITUTION AND LAW OF THE INDIANS 188
CHAPTER VII.
THE CASTES AND THE FAMILY 236
CHAPTER VIII.
THE THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY OF THE BRAHMANS 270
BOOK VI.
_BUDDHISTS AND BRAHMANS._
CHAPTER I.
THE STATES ON THE GANGES IN THE SIXTH CENTURY B.C. 315
CHAPTER II.
BUDDHA'S LIFE AND TEACHING 332
CHAPTER III.
THE KINGDOM OF MAGADHA AND THE SETTLEMENTS IN THE SOUTH 365
CHAPTER IV.
THE NATIONS AND PRINCES OF THE LAND OF THE INDUS 383
CHAPTER V.
THE POLITICAL AND SOCIAL LIFE OF THE INDIANS IN THE FOURTH
CENTURY B.C. 408
CHAPTER VI.
CHANDRAGUPTA OF MAGADHA 439
CHAPTER VII.
THE RELIGION OF THE BUDDHISTS 454
CHAPTER VIII.
THE REFORMS OF THE BRAHMANS 491
CHAPTER IX.
ACOKA OF MAGADHA 521
CHAPTER X.
RETROSPECT 544
BOOK V.
THE ARIANS ON THE INDUS AND THE GANGES.
INDIA.
CHAPTER I.
THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE.
It was not only in the lower valley of the Nile, on the banks of the
Euphrates and the Tigris, and along the coast and on the heights of
Syria that independent forms of intellectual and civic life grew up in
antiquity. By the side of the early civilisation of Egypt, and the
hardly later civilisation of that unknown people from which Elam,
Babylon, and Asshur borrowed such important factors in the development
of their own capacities; along with the civilisation of the Semites of
the East and West, who here observed the heavens, there busily explored
the shores of the sea; here erected massive buildings, and there were so
earnestly occupied with the study of their own inward nature, are found
forms of culture later in their origin, and represented by a different
family of nations. This family, the Indo-European, extends over a far
larger area than the Semitic. We find branches of it in the wide
districts to the east of the Semitic nations, on the table-land of Iran,
in the valleys of the Indus and the Ganges. Other branches we have
already encountered on the heights of Armenia, and the table-land of
Asia Minor (I. 512, 524). Others again obtained possession of the
plains above the Black Sea; others, of the peninsulas of Greece and
Italy. Nations of this stock have forced their way to the shores of the
Atlantic Ocean; we find them settled on the western coast of the Spanish
peninsula, from the mouth of the Garonne to the Channel, in Britain and
Ireland no less than in Scandinavia, on the shores of the North Sea and
the Baltic. Those branches of the family which took up their abodes the
farthest to the East exhibit the most independent and peculiar form of
civilisation.
The mutual relationship of the Arian, Greek, Italian, Letto-Sclavonian,
Germanic, and Celtic languages proves the relationship of the nations
who have spoken and still speak them; it proves that all these nations
have a common origin and descent. The words, of which the roots in these
languages exhibit complete phonetic agreement, must be considered as a
common possession, acquired before the separation; and from this we can
discover at what stage of life the nation from which these languages
derive their origin stood at the time when it was not yet divided into
these six great branches, and separated into the nations which
subsequently occupied abodes so extensive and remote from each other. We
find common terms for members of the family, for house, yard, garden,
and citadel; common words for horses, cattle, dogs, swine, sheep, goats,
mice, geese, ducks; common roots for wool, hemp or flax, corn (_i.e._
wheat, spelt, or barley), for ploughing, grinding, and weaving, for
certain metals (copper or iron), for some weapons and tools, for waggon,
boat and rudder, for the elementary numbers, and the division of the
year according to the moon.[1] Hence the stock, whose branches and
shoots have spread over the whole continent of Europe and Asia from
Ceylon to Britain and Scandinavia, cannot, even before the separation,
have been without a certain degree of civilisation. On the contrary,
this common fund of words proves that even in that early time it tilled
the field, and | 1,435.042379 |
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Archive/Canadian Libraries)
A LETTER
TO
_THE LORD CHANCELLOR_.
A
LETTER
TO
THE RIGHT HONORABLE
THE
LORD CHANCELLOR,
ON THE
NATURE AND INTERPRETATION
OF
UNSOUNDNESS OF MIND,
AND
_IMBECILITY OF INTELLECT_.
BY
JOHN HASLAM, M.D.
LATE OF PEMBROKE HALL, CAMBRIDGE.
_LONDON:_
PUBLISHED BY R. HUNTER,
ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.
***
1823.
PRINTED BY G. HAYDEN,
Little College Street, Westminster.
A LETTER.
MY LORD,
THE present address originates in an anxious wish for the advancement of
medical knowledge, where it is connected with those maladies of the
human mind, that are referable to the court, wherein your Lordship has
so long administered impartial justice. The disorders which affect the
body are, in general, the exclusive province of the medical
practitioner; but, by a wise provision, that has descended to us from
the enlightened nations of antiquity, the law has considered those
persons, whose intellectual derangement rendered them inadequate to the
governance of themselves in society, or incapable of managing their
affairs, entitled to its special protection. If your Lordship should
feel surprized at this communication, or deem my conduct presumptuous,
the thirst of information on an important subject is my only apology;
and I have sought to allay it in the pure stream that issues from the
fountain-head, rather than from subordinate channels or distant
distributions. Although personally a stranger to your Lordship, nearly
thirty years of my life have been devoted to the investigation and
treatment of insanity: of which more than twenty have been
professionally passed in the largest receptacle for lunatics;--and the
press has diffused, in several publications, my opinions and experience
concerning the human mind, both in its sound state and morbid condition.
The medical profession, of which I am an humble member, entertains very
different notions concerning the nature of UNSOUNDNESS of mind, and
IMBECILITY of intellect;--and this difference of opinion has been
displayed on many solemn occasions, where medical testimony has been
deposed.
If a physician were to attempt to search into the existing records and
procedures on insanity, to collect its legal interpretation, such
investigation would probably be a waste of his time, the source of
abundant, and perhaps of incurable error; but to these inconveniences he
will not be subjected in attentively considering your Lordship's
judgments, of which I have availed myself on the present occasion, and
which, having been taken down at the time they were delivered, may be
presumed not materially incorrect. The documents to which I refer are
the judgments of the 22d April, 1815, and the 17th December, 1822, on
the Portsmouth petitions, together with the minutes of conference
between your Lordship and certain physicians, on the 7th January, 1823.
In the judgment on the petition of 1815, it is stated by your
Lordship,[A] "I have searched, and caused a most careful search to be
made into all the records and procedures on lunacy which are extant. I
believe, and I think I may venture to say, that originally commissions
of this sort were of two kinds; a commission aiming at, and enquiring
whether, the individual had been an idiot ex nativitate, or whether, on
the other hand, he was a lunatic. The question whether he was a
lunatic, being a question, admitting in the solution of it, of a
decision that imputed to him at one time an extremely sound mind, but at
other times, an occurrence of insanity, with reference to which, it was
necessary to guard his person and his property by a commission issuing.
It seems to have been a very long time before those who had the
administration of justice in this department, thought themselves at
liberty to issue a commission, when the person was represented as not
being idiot ex nativitate, as not being lunatic, but as being of UNSOUND
MIND, importing by those words, the notion, that the party was in _some
such state_, as was to be contra-distinguished from idiotcy, and as he
was to be contra-distinguished from lunacy, and yet such as made him a
proper object of a commission, in the nature of a commission to inquire
of idiotcy, or a commission to inquire of lunacy. From the moment that
that had been established, down to this moment, it appears to me to have
been at the same time established, that _whatever_ may be the degree of
weakness or imbecility of the party to manage his own affairs, if the
finding of the jury is only that he was of an extreme imbecility of
mind, that he has an inability to manage his own affairs: if they will
not proceed to _infer_ from _that_, in their finding, upon oath, that he
is of UNSOUND MIND, they have not established, by the result of the
inquiry, a case upon which the Chancellor can make a grant, constituting
a committee, either of the person or estate. All the cases decide that
mere imbecility will not do; that an inability to manage a man's affairs
will not do, unless that inability, and that incapacity to manage his
affairs _amount_ to evidence that he is of unsound mind; and he must be
found to be so. Now there is a great difference between inability to
manage a man's affairs, and imbecility of mind taken as _evidence_ of
unsoundness of mind. The case of Charlton Palmer, in which this was very
much discussed, was the case of a man stricken in years, and whose mind
was the mind of a child;--it was, _therefore_, _in that sense_,
imbecility, and inability to manage his affairs, which _constituted_
unsoundness of mind."
The introduction of the term _unsoundness_, to denote a particular state
of disordered mind, which is supposed to differ from idiotcy and lunacy,
has been the source of considerable | 1,435.045341 |
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(http://posner.library.cmu.edu/Posner/))
JOURNAL
OF
THE PROCEEDINGS
OF
THE LINNEAN SOCIETY.
ZOOLOGY.
VOL. IV.
LONDON:
LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMANS AND ROBERTS,
AND
WILLIAMS AND NORGATE.
1860.
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND FRANCIS,
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
LIST OF PAPERS.
Page
GARNER, ROBERT, Esq., F.L.S.
On the Shell-bearing Mollusca, particularly with regard to
Structure and Form 35 | 1,435.234906 |
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by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
* Obvious printer errors have been silently corrected.
* Original spelling was kept.
* Variant spellings were made consistent when a predominant usage
was found.
* Italics are represented between underscores as in _italics_.
* Small caps are represented in upper case as in SMALL CAPS.
* Illustrations have been slightly moved so that they do not
break up paragraphs while remaining close to the text they
illustrate.
* Illustration captions have been harmonized and made consistent
so that the same expressions appear both in them and in the
List of Full Page Illustrations.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN OF SHEBA.
_Frontispiece & Page 309._]
THE ADVENTURES
OF
CAPTAIN MAGO
OR
_A Phœnician Expedition_
B.C. 1000
BY
LÉON CAHUN
_ILLUSTRATED BY P. PHILIPPOTEAUX, AND TRANSLATED FROM
THE FRENCH BY ELLEN E. FREWER_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1889
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
PREFACE.
The following pages pretend to no original or scientific research. It
is their object to present, in a popular form, a picture of the world
as it was a thousand years before the Christian Era, and to exhibit,
mainly for the young, a summary of that varied information which is
contained in books, many of which by their high price and exclusively
technical character are generally unattainable.
* * * * *
It would only have encumbered the fictitious narrative, which is the
vehicle for conveying the instruction that is designed, to crowd
every page with references; but it may be alleged, once for all, that
for every statement which relates to the history of the period, and
especially to the history of the Phœnicians, ample authority might
be quoted from some one or other of the valuable books which have
been consulted.
Of the most important of these a list is here appended:--
1. F. C. MOVERS. Das Phönizische Alterthum.
2. RENAN. Mission en Phénicie.
3. DAUX. Recherches sur les Emporia phéniciens dans le Zeugis
et le Byzacium.
4. NATHAN DAVIS. Carthage and her Remains.
5. WILKINSON. Manners and Customs of Ancient Egyptians.
6. HŒCKH. Kreta.
7. GROTE. History of Greece.
8. MOMMSEN. Geschichte der Römischen Republik (Introduction and
Chap. I.).
9. BOURGUIGNAT. Monuments mégalithiques du nord de l'Afrique.
10. FERGUSSON. Rude Stone Monuments.
11. BROCA and A. BERTRAND. Celtes, Gaulois et Francs.
12. ABBÉ BARGÈS. Interprétation d'une inscription phénicienne
trouvée à Marseille.
13. LAYARD. Nineveh and its Remains.
14. BOTTA. Fouilles de Babylone.
15. REUSS. New translation of the Bible, in course of
publication.
A few foot-notes are subjoined by way of illustration of what might
have been carried on throughout the volume; and an Appendix will be
found at the end, containing some explanation of topics which the | 1,435.23864 |
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Produced by Tom Weiss
THE DHAMMAPADA
A Collection of Verses Being One of the Canonical Books of the Buddhists
Translated from Pali by F. Max Muller
From:
The Sacred Books of the East
Translated by Various Oriental Scholars
Edited by F. Max Muller
Volume X
Part I
[Note: The introduction, notes and index have been omitted.]
Contents
Chapter 1: The Twin Verses
Chapter 2: On Earnestness
Chapter 3: Thought
Chapter 4: Flowers
Chapter 5: The Fool
Chapter 6: The Wise Man (Pandita)
Chapter 7: The Venerable (Arhat)
Chapter 8: The Thousands
Chapter 9: Evil
Chapter 10: Punishment
Chapter 11 | 1,435.240247 |
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Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 81. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, May 17, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
[Begun in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]
THE CRUISE OF THE "GHOST."
BY W. L. ALDEN,
AUTHOR OF THE "THE MORAL PIRATES," ETC.
CHAPTER II.
The next day Charley had the boat drawn up on the shore, and went to
work at her, assisted by the other boys. It took two weeks of constant
work to lengthen her, but when she was finished, everybody admitted that
she was greatly improved.
The jib halyards and sheets, as well as the throat and peak halyards,
were all led aft so that they could be reached by the helmsman without
leaving his post. When all the other work was finished, Charley made a
gun-carriage for the cannon, and it was lashed to the deck just forward
of the mast. Nothing now remained to be done but to name the boat, and
this proved to be the most difficult task of all. Each of the boys could
think of a dozen names that he did not like, but not one that he really
did like. Tom thought that perhaps they could not do better than to call
her the _America_, or the _George Washington_, but admitted that both of
those names were in rather too common use. Harry said that he didn't
much like the idea of calling her the _Red Revenger_, but if they
couldn't find any better name they might have to come to it. Charley
ridiculed the idea of calling her the _Red Revenger_, since she was not
intended to revenge anything, and instead of being red was as white as a
ghost. "Then suppose we call her the _Ghost_," exclaimed Joe.
The other boys asked if he was in earnest, said that it would never do
to call the boat the _Ghost_, and finally agreed that they rather liked
the name than otherwise, on account of its oddity. The end of it was
that Joe's suggestion was adopted, and _Ghost_ was painted in large
letters on the stern.
Three days before the cruise was to begin Jim Sharpe fell down an open
cellarway and broke his leg. The boys at first thought of abandoning
their cruise altogether, but Jim wouldn't hear of it. He told them to
go, and write him letters every few days, and convinced them that he
would really feel hurt if they did not go, so they bade him good-by, and
set sail from Harlem the following Monday morning, half in doubt whether
they ought to enjoy themselves while poor Jim was lying on a sick-bed,
where he was to pass most of his vacation.
The breeze blew gently from the west, and the _Ghost_, with the tide in
her favor, slipped rapidly down the river under full sail. As soon as
the yacht was fairly off, Charley, who was at the helm, divided his crew
into watches. The starboard watch consisted of the Captain and Joe, and
the port watch consisted of Tom and Harry, the former being in command
of it as mate. Each watch was to take charge of the boat in turn, and to
remain in charge four hours, except when the _Ghost_ might be lying at
anchor. The officer in charge of the watch was to steer, while his
companion was to be stationed in the forward part of the cockpit, where
he could handle the centre-board and attend to the jib sheets. Whenever
the officer gave an order, it was to be executed by his companion, and
the other boys were to remain quiet unless "all hands" were called.
Charley had been in the navy long enough to know that no vessel, however
small or however big she may be, can be properly sailed unless every
member of the crew knows what his duty is, and how to do it, and
refrains from interfering with the duty of other men, unless especially
ordered to do so.
The river was crowded with sailing craft and steamboats, and it was no
easy matter to steer the _Ghost_ so as to avoid collision. Every little
while a ferry-boat or tug would whistle hoarsely, and the boys noticed
that very often Charley altered the course he had been steering as soon
as he heard the whistle. "Do those whistles mean anything except for us
to get out of the way?" asked Harry, presently.
"A long whistle or a lot of little short whistles means 'get out of the
road,'" answered Charley; "but when you hear a steamboat give one short
whistle, or two short whistles, she is telling you which way she is
going to steer. Now there's a tug coming up the river straight at us;
you'll hear her whistle in a few minutes, and then I'll know what she's
going to do, and which way to steer to keep out of her way." He had
hardly said this when the tug gave two blasts of the whistle. "That
means she's going to starboard her helm and pass on our right,"
exclaimed Charley, at the same moment heading the _Ghost_ a little more
toward the Brooklyn shore.
"I thought," said Harry, as the steamboat passed between the _Ghost_ and
the New York shore, "that'starboard' meant right, and 'port' left."
"So it does."
"Then how did that tug turn to the left when you said she was going to
starboard her helm?"
"If I push the tiller over to the left-hand side of the boat, I port my
helm; but the boat turns to the right, doesn't she? Well, the tiller is
really the helm, and every vessel, whether she is steered with a wheel
or not, has a tiller, though it may not be in sight. Now when the helm
is pushed or pulled toward the port side, the vessel turns her head to
starboard, and when it's pushed toward the starboard side, she turns her
head to port. You've got to remember this, for some day if one of you is
steering, and I sing out 'port,' you mustn't make any mistake about it."
"I understand," said Joe. "The boat is always to do the opposite of what
you tell me to do if I'm steering. When you tell me to 'port,' the boat | 1,435.240308 |
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[Illustration: _Published by Wait, Greene & Co._
_"When she first sprung up a most exhilarating shout issued from
the group."_
_See Page 50_]
THE
TALISMAN:
A
TALE FOR BOYS.
BOSTON:
WAIT, GREENE & CO.--13, COURT STREET.
1829.
DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS.--_to wit_:
_District Clerk's Office._
BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the twenty fifth day of June, A. D. 1829,
in the fifty third year of the Independence of the United States of
America, WAIT, GREENE & CO. of the said district, have deposited in
this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as
proprietors, in the words following, _to wit_:
"The Talisman: a Tale for Boys."
In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States,
entitled "An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the
copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of
such copies, during the times therein mentioned:" and also to an Act
entitled "An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, An Act for the
encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and
books to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times
therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of
designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints."
JNO. W. DAVIS,
_Clerk of the District of Massachusetts_.
PRESS OF PUTNAM & HUNT.
41, Washington Street.
THE TALISMAN.
Frank had heard a great deal about the city, but he had never seen
it, for he lived more than a hundred miles from New York, and still
farther from Boston. His father and mother had made visits to both
these places, several times, but it had never been convenient to
them to take Frank. On their return, they always brought him many
pretty presents of books or toys, and | 1,435.241471 |
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THE NE'ER-DO-WELL
By REX BEACH
Author of "THE SILVER HORDE" "THE SPOILERS" "THE IRON TRAIL" Etc.
Illustrated
TO
MY WIFE
CONTENTS
I. VICTORY
II. THE TRAIL DIVIDES
III. A GAP
IV. NEW ACQUAINTANCES
V. A REMEDY IS PROPOSED
VI. IN WHICH KIRK ANTHONY IS GREATLY SURPRISED
VII. THE REWARD OF MERIT
VIII. EL COMANDANTE TAKES A HAND
IX. SPANISH LAW
X. A CHANGE OF PLAN
XI. THE TRUTH ABOUT MRS. CORTLANDT
XII. A NIGHT AT TABOGA
XIII. CHIQUITA
XIV. THE PATH THAT LED NOWHERE
XV. | 1,435.638148 |
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available by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE OPEN ROAD.
Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
(_Song of the Open Road_).]
A. DAY. WITH
WALT
WHITMAN
BY MAURICE CLARE
[Illustration]
LONDON
HODDER & STOUGHTON
_In the same Series._
_Tennyson._
_Wordsworth._
_Browning._
_Burns._
_Byron._
_Keats._
_E. B. Browning._
_Whittier_.
_Rossetti._
_Shelley._
_Longfellow._
_Scott._
_Coleridge._
_Morris._
A DAY WITH WALT WHITMAN.
About six o'clock on a midsummer morning in 1877, a tall old man awoke,
and was out of bed next moment,--but he moved with a certain slow
leisureliness, as one who will not be hurried. The reason of this
deliberate movement was obvious,--he had to drag a paralysed leg, which
was only gradually recovering its ability and would always be slightly
lame. Seen more closely, he was not by any means so old as at first
sight one might imagine. His snow-white hair and almost-white grey beard
indicated some eighty years: but he was vigorous, erect and rosy: his
clear grey-blue eyes were bright with a "wild-hawk look,"--his face was
firm and without a line. An air of splendid vital force, despite his
infirmity, was diffused from his whole person, and defied the fact of
his actual age, which was two years short of sixty.
Dressing with the same large, leisurely gestures as characterized him in
everything, Walt Whitman was presently attired in his invariable suit of
grey: and by the time the clock touched half-past seven, he was | 1,435.643827 |
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOLUME 98.
MAY 17, 1890.
* * * * *
ALL IN PLAY.
MY DEAR EDITOR,--Whilst you were feasting in Burlington House amongst
the Pictures and the Royal Academicians, I was seated in the Stalls of
the St. James's Theatre, lost in astonishment (certainly not in
admiration, although of old the two words had the same meaning), at the
antics of a minority of the Gallery, who amused themselves by shouting
themselves hoarse before the performances commenced; but not satisfied
with this, they continued their shrieking further: they howled at the
overture of the first piece, they jeered at the scene, they yelled at
the actors. However, as it happened, _The Tiger_ had been already
successfully played on two occasions last year, so a verdict was not
required at _their_ hands. Had Mr. SOLOMON, the composer, conducted, he
would have taken _The Tiger_ away, and left the howlers to their
howling. Since Saturday the piece has, I am informed, "gone" with what
the Americans call a "snap." The music is charming. Mr. CHARLES COLNAGHI
made his bow as a professional, and played and sang excellently, as did
also Mr. J. G. TAYLOR, in spite of the riotous conduct of the
"unfriendlies."
Then came _Esther Sandraz_. Mrs. LANGTRY looked lovely, and played with
great power; but what an unpleasant part! Until the end of the First Act
all was right. The sympathy was with the heroine of the hour, or,
rather, two hours and a half; but when it was discovered that _Esther_
loved but for revenge, and wished to bring sorrow and shame upon the
fair head of Miss MARION LEA, then the sentiments of the audience
underwent a rapid change. Everyone would have been pleased if Mr. SUGDEN
had shot himself in Act II.; nay, some of us would not have complained
if he had died in Act I., but the cat-and-mouse-like torture inflicted
upon him by _Esther_ was the reverse of agreeable. Mr. SUGDEN was only a
"Johnnie", but still "Johnnies" have feelings like the rest of us. Mr.
BOURCHIER was rather hard as a good young man who does _not_ die, and
Mr. EVERILL (steady old stager) kept everything well together. If the
play keeps the boards for any length of time, it will be, thanks to the
power of Mrs. LANGTRY, the natural pathos of Miss MARION LEA, and the
unforced comedy of Mr. EVERILL.
On Monday Miss GRACE HAWTHORNE produced _Theodora_ at the Princess's
Theatre with some success. It cannot be said, however, that Mlle. SARA
BERNHARDT has at length found her rival, but, for all that, the heroine
of the moment might have been worse. "SARDOU'S masterpiece" (as the
programmes have it) was very well staged. The scenery and costumes were
excellent, and great relief was afforded to the more tragic tones of the
play by entrusting the heavy part of _Andreas_ to Mr. LEONARD BOYNE, who
is a thorough artist, with just the least taste in life of the brogue
that savours more of the Milesian Drama. Mr. W. H. VERNON was the
_Justinian_ of the evening, and looked the Lawgiver to the life;
although I am not quite sure whether a half-concealed moustache was
quite the fashion in the days of the Empire. Mr. ROBERT BUCHANAN, the
adapter of "the masterpiece", introduced several nineteenth century
expressions into the dialogue. In the "home of the Gladiators", it was
quite pleasant to hear people talking of a "row", and made one wish to
have a description of "a merry little mill", in the language of the
sporting Press. No doubt, the length of the performances was the reason
why so racy a narrative was omitted. For the rest, there are some thirty
speaking parts--a good allowance for a play consisting of six Acts and
seven _Tableaux_. A "Masterpiece" (in English) is better than a feast,
for it is enough--for a lifetime. Believe me, yours faithfully,
ONE WHO HAS TAKEN A DOUBLE "FIRST."
* * * * *
[Illustration: A CHANGE.
From a Fasting Man to a Sandwich Man. Useful to Advertisers.]
* * * * *
A STIRRING POLE.--A more stirring pianist than PADEREWSKI, who played on
Friday afternoon at St. James's Hall for the first time in England, has
never been heard. The report that he is a Polonised Irishman needs
confirmation. The name is suspicious. But there are no sound reasons for
supposing that the first two syllables of PADEREWSKI'S name are simply a
corruption of the Hibernian "Paddy."
* * * * *
CLASSIC MOTTO FOR THOSE WHO SELL AS THE GENUINE ARTICLE TEA UNDER A
FALSE BRAND.--"_Nomine mutato fabula narratur de Tea._"
* * * * *
MRS. R. wants to know if she can ascertain all about the Law of Libel,
&c., in the works which she contemplates purchasing of WALTER SAVAGE
SLANDOR.
* * * * *
OUR ADVERTISERS.
_A New Departure, or the "Give-'em-a-hand-all-round" Wrinkle._
ROYAL QUARTPOTARIUM.--THE RENOWNED WORLD FASTING CHAMPION, who is
dressed in a READY-MADE SUIT OF TWEED DITTOS (38_s._) supplied by
Messrs. LEVI, SOLOMANS & CO., of 293, Houndsditch, and is
* * *
SEATED ON THE GENT'S EASY LOUNGE CHAIR, forming one of the articles of
the highly-upholstered dining-room set (as advertised) by Messrs.
GLUBBINS, KNICKERBOCKER & CO., of Tottenham Court Road, where at any
hour he can be seen
* * *
SIPPING ALTERNATELY FROM TWO LARGE CUT-GLASS TUMBLERS, furnished by
Messrs. WAGBITTER AND GROANS, of New Oxford Street,
* * *
BLINKER'S CONCENTRATED COD-LIVER EMULSION MELTED FATS (57_s._ the dozen
pints, bottles included), and
* * *
SPARKLING SINGULARIS WATER, bottled in nine-gallon flagons by the
Company at their extensive works in the Isle of Dogs, with which, to the
satisfaction of his friends, he succeeds in washing down, in turns,
hourly,
* * *
BINNACLE'S CONDENSED DIGESTIVE BOILED PORK LOZENGES, supplied by all
respectable Chemists throughout the United Kingdom, in 1_s._ 9_d._,
3_s._ 9_d._, 13_s._ 3_d._, 27_s._ 6_d._, and 105_s._ Boxes;
* * *
SIDES, BREASTS, FORE-QUARTERS, SADDLES, AND ENTIRE WHOLE OR HALF-SHEEP
OF PRIME BOLIVIAN MUTTON delivered daily by the Company's carts, from
their own Refrigerators;
* * *
WINKER'S INVALID INFANT'S PICK-ME-UP CORDIAL--(WINKER & CO., the
Manufactory, Hoxton-on-Sea);
* * *
TINNED AMERICAN OYSTERS. FINE SELECTED THIRDS. Guaranteed by the
Blue-Point Company, Wriggleville, Texas, U.S.A.; and
* * *
ZWINGERINE, the new marvellous nerve and tone-restoring, and muscle,
bone, and fat-producing agency, EACH TEASPOONFUL OF WHICH contains, in a
highly-concentrated form, three bottles of port wine, soup, fish, cut
off the joint, two _entrees_, sweet, cheese, and celery, as testified to
by a public analyst of standing and repute. Agents, GLUM & CO, Seven
Dials.
* * *
THE FASTING CHAMPION continues to receive visitors as above from 6 A.M.
to 11 P.M. daily, and may be inspected, watched, stared at, pinched,
questioned, and examined generally, by his admiring friends, the British
Public, in his private _sanctum_ at the Royal Quartpotarium, till
further notice.
* * * * *
IN THE KNOW.--(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)
CARDINAL RICHELIEU once observed to Madame DE ST. GALMIER, that if Kings
could but know the folly of their subjects they would hesitate at
nothing. Mr. JEREMY evidently knows thoroughly how stupendously
cabbage-headed his readers are, for he never hesitates to put forward
the most astounding and muddy-minded theories. For instance, he asks us
this week to believe that _Saladin_ ought to have won the Shropshire
Handicap, because he was known to be a better horse, from two miles up
to fifty, than the four other horses who faced the starter. If this
stuff had been addressed to an audience of moon-calves and mock-turtles
it might have passed muster, but, thank Heaven, we are not _all_ quite
so low as that yet. Let me therefore tell Mr. JEREMY, that when a horse
like _Saladin_, whose back-bone is like the Himalaya mountains, and his
pastern joints like a bottle-nosed whale with a cold in his head, comes
to the post with two stone and a beating to his credit, and four hoofs
about the size of a soup-tureen to his legs, he can never be _expected_
to get the better of slow roarers like _Carmichael_ and _Busby_, to say
nothing of _Whatnot_ and _Pumblechook_. It is well known, of course,
that the latter has been in hard training for a month, and a better
horse at cornbin or bran-mash never stepped. _Saladin_ won, I know, | 1,435.739048 |
2023-11-16 18:41:00.5218280 | 2,654 | 6 |
E-text prepared by Christine Bell & Marc D'Hooghe
(http://www.freeliterature.org)
MAJESTY
A Novel
by
LOUIS COUPERUS
Newly Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos
With a Preface by Stephen McKenna
New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
1921
PREFACE
The betting-book in one of London's oldest and most famous clubs
contains a wager, with odds laid at one hundred sovereigns to ten, that
"within five years there will not remain two crowned heads in Europe."
The condition--"in the event of war between Great Britain and
Germany"--was imposed by the date of the wager, for one member was
venturing his hundred to ten at a moment when another was dining with
him to kill time before the British prime minister's ultimatum took
effect: the imperial German government had to deliver its reply before
midnight, by Greenwich time, or eleven o'clock, by Central European
reckoning.
Since the fourth of August, 1914, the King of the Hellenes, the Czar of
Bulgaria, the Emperor-King of Austria-Hungary, the German Kaiser and a
host of smaller princes have abdicated and sought asylum in countries
left neutral by the war; the Czar of All the Russias also abdicated, but
was executed without an opportunity of escape. Thus, though republican
and royalist may protest that the wager was too sanguine or too
pessimistic, the challenger must have taken credit for his prescience,
as three of the great powers and two of the lesser converted, one after
another, their half-divine sovereign into their wholly material scapegoat;
by no great special pleading he might claim that the bet was won in
spirit if not in fact when the morning of Armistice Day shewed monarchy
surviving only in Spain, Italy, Roumania and Greece, in the small
liberal kingdoms of Scandinavia and the Netherlands, in the minute
principality of Monaco, in the crowned republic of Great Britain and
Ireland and in the eternal anachronism of the Ottoman Empire. And the
time-limit of five years had been exceeded by only three months.
In the peaceful period, four times longer, between the publication of
_Majesty_ in 1894 and the outbreak of the Great War, historians were
kept hardly less busy with their record of fallen monarchs and
extinguished dynasties: King Humbert of Italy was assassinated in 1900;
King Alexander of Servia, with his queen, in 1903; King Carlos of
Portugal, with the heir-apparent, in 1908; and the Sultan Abdul Hamid
was deposed and imprisoned in 1909. Before the year 1894 no ruler of
note had removed himself or been removed since the assassination of the
Czar Alexander II in 1881; this study of "majesty" in its strength and,
still more, in its weakness was published at a time when even the
autocrat was more secure on his throne than at any period since "the
year of revolution," 1848.
If _Majesty_ is to be regarded as a _roman a clef_, there is a
temptation, after six and twenty years, to call Couperus 'prophetic:' to
call him that and nothing else is to turn blind eyes to the intuitive
understanding which is more precious than divination, to ignore, in one
book, the insight which illumines all and to overlook the quality which,
among all the chronicles of kings, penetrates beyond romance and makes
of _Majesty_ an essay in human psychology. So long as the fairy-tales of
childhood are woven about handsome princes and the fair-haired daughters
of kings, there is no danger that the setting of royalty will ever lose
its glamour; so long as "romantic" means primarily that which is
"strange," the writer of romance may bind his spell on all to whom
kings' houses and queens' gardens are an unfamiliar world; so long as
the picturesque and traditional hold sway, the sanction and titles of
kingship, the dignities and the procedure, the inhibitions and aloofness
of royalty will fascinate, whether they like it or not, all those in
whose veins there is no "golden drop" of blood royal. A romance of
kingship, alike in the hands of dramatist, melodramatist and sycophant,
is certain of commercial success.
The strength of this temptation is to be measured by the number of
novels written round the triumphs and intrigues of kings, their amours
and tragedies, their conflicts and disasters: King Cophetua and "King
Sun," Prince Hal and Richard the Second, Louis the Eleventh and Charles
the First, a king in hiding, a king in exile, a king in disguise; so
long as he is a king, he is a safe investment for the romantic writer.
But the weakness of those who succumb to this temptation is to be
measured by their failure to make kings live in literature. Those few
who survive beyond the brief term of ephemeral popularity survive more
by reason of their office than of themselves and Jan de Witt makes
little show beside Louis the Sixteenth; their robes are of so much
greater account than their persons that the feeblest German prince cuts
a more imposing figure than the strongest president of the Swiss
Confederation.
Those who stand out in despite of their romantic setting, the human,
perplexed Hamlets and vacillating, remorseful Richards, are inevitably
few; and few they are likely to remain so long as the frame outshines
the picture and the prince is labelled and left a celestial being apart,
or labelled and dragged into passing sentimental contrast with men less
exalted; it would seem that to regard a king first as a man and
afterwards as an hereditary office-holder was to waste his romantic
possibilities. This, nevertheless, is what Couperus has set himself to
do in _Majesty_; he presents his family of kings as a branch of the
human family; their dignity ceases to be stupefying when all are equally
high-born; they wear their uniforms and robes as other men wear the
conventional clothes of their trade; and, stripping them of their titles
and decorations, he paints his group of men and women who have been born
to rule, as others are born to till the soil; to marry for love or
reasons of state, as others marry for love or reasons of convenience; to
experience such emotions as are common to all men and to face the
special duties and dangers apportioned to their caste by the
organization of society:
_"... The Gothlandic family,"_ says Couperus, _"... lived [at
Altseeborgen] for four months, without palace-etiquette, in the greatest
simplicity. They formed a numerous family and there were always many
visitors. The king attended to state affairs in homely fashion at the
castle. His grandchildren would run into his room while he was
discussing important business with the prime minister.... He just patted
their flaxen curls and sent them away to play, with a caress.... From
all the courts of Europe, which were as one great family, different
members came from time to time to stay, bringing with them the
irrespective nuances of different nationality, something exotic in
accent and moral ideas, so far as this was not merged in their
cosmopolitanism."_
To this "one great family" the organization of society apportioned with
one hand special privileges and exemptions, with the other special
hardships and dangers. Revolution, to these professional rulers, was
what successful trade rivalry is to a store-keeper; assassination was a
daily risk to which store-keepers are commonly not exposed:
_"... Such is the life of rulers: the emperor lay dead, killed by a
simple pistol-shot; and the court chamberlain was very busy, the masters
of ceremonies unable to agree; the pomp of an imperial funeral was
prepared in all its intricacy; through all Europe sped the after-shudder
of fright; every newspaper was filled with telegrams and long
articles...._
_"All this was because of one shot from a fanatic, a martyr for the
people's rights._
_"The Empress Elizabeth stared with wide-open eyes at the fate that had
overtaken her. Not thus had she ever pictured to herself that it would
come, thus, so rudely, in the midst of that festivity and in the
presence of their royal guest...."_
It is to be understood, none the less, that she had always expected it
to come: assassination is one of the special risks attaching to majesty
at all times when one form of kingship or the whole institution of kings
is debated and criticized. _"When the intellectual developments or
culture of a race,"_ wrote Heine, in _The Citizen Kingdom in 1832,
"cease to accord with its old established institutions, the necessary
result is a combat in which the latter are overthrown. This is called a
revolution. Until this revolution is complete, so long as the reform of
these institutions does not agree at all points with the intellectual
development, the habits and the wants of the people, during this period
the national malady is not wholly cured and the ailing and agitated
people will often relapse into the weakness of exhaustion and at times
be subject to fits of burning fever. When this fever is upon them, they
tear the lightest bandages and the most healing lint from their old
wounds, throw the most benevolent and noble-hearted nurses out of window
and themselves roll about in agony, until at length they find themselves
in circumstances or adapt themselves to institutions that suit them
better."_
So much for the race, in the gripe of growing-pains; but what of the
nurses? How little benevolent or noble-hearted soever they be, nurses
are bound by the honour of their profession and by personal pride not to
forsake their patients. In one passage of _Majesty_ the crown-prince is
shaken by fundamental doubts of his own inherited right to rule; he
questions and analyses until he is brought to heel by his imperial
father who remembers that an excess of "victorious analysis" rotted the
intellectual foundations of the old order and prepared the way for the
logical French revolution. In another passage the boy realizes without
any qualification that he at least is unfitted for the burthen of empire
and that it is better to abdicate in favour of his brother or to commit
suicide than to play Atlas with a world that he cannot sustain; once
more, his imperial father silences any admission that his own flesh and
blood can be too degenerate for the task of majesty. And so, at the
moral sword-point, this hereditary nurse is held to the duty and
privilege of standing by an hereditary patient whom he cannot relieve
with "the most healing lint" and who may at any moment throw him out of
window.
Not even in thought may majesty abdicate: a prince inherits his
philosophy as he inherits his title.
_"Life is so simple,"_ proclaims the collectivist Zanti.
_"'As you picture it, but not in reality,' objected Herman._
_"Zanti looked at him angrily, stopped still, to be able to talk with
greater ease, and, passionately, violently, exclaimed:_
_"'And do you in reality find it better than I picture it? I do not,
sir, and I hope to turn my picture into reality. You and yours once,
ages ago, made your picture reality; now it is the turn of us others:
your reality has lasted long enough....'_
_"Othomar, haughtily, tried to say something in contradiction; the old
man, however, suddenly turned to him and, gently though roughly, with
his penetrating, fanatical voice which made Othomar shudder:_
_"'For you, sir, I feel pity!... Do you know why? Because the time will
come!... The hour will come. Perhaps it is very near. If it does not
come in your father's reign, it will come in | 1,436.541868 |
2023-11-16 18:41:00.6169250 | 206 | 16 |
Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Garrett Alley and PG
Distributed Proofreaders
"PROBABLE SONS"
BY
AMY LEFEUVRE
AUTHOR OF "CHERRY," "THE ODD ONE," ETC.
"_A little child shall lead them_."
1896
[Illustration: The Broken Statue.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. AN UNWELCOME LEGACY
CHAPTER II. DAVID AND GOLIATH
CHAPTER III. THE FIRST PUNISHMENT
CHAPTER IV. MRS. MAXWELL'S SORROW
CHAPTER V. A PRODIGAL
CHAPTER VI. A PROMISE KEPT
CHAPTER VII. CROSS-EXAMINATION
CHAPTER VIII. "HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER"
CHAPTER IX. "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM"
"PROBABLE SONS."
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
AN UN | 1,436.636965 |
2023-11-16 18:41:00.6189770 | 1,506 | 8 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
BILL NYE'S RED BOOK
By Edgar Wilson Nye
Illustrated by J. H. Smith
Thompson & Thomas Chicago
1891
[Illustration: 0008]
[Illustration: 0009]
[Illustration: 0017]
This is the fourth book that I have published in response to the
clamorous appeals of the public. I had long hoped to publish a larger,
better, and if possible a redder book than the first; one that would
contain my better thoughts; thoughts that I had thought when I was
feeling well; thoughts that I had omitted when my thinker was rearing
up on its hind feet, if I may be allowed that term; thoughts that sprang
forth with a wild whoop and demanded recognition. This book is the
result of that hope and that wish. It is may greatest and best book.
Bill Nye.
This book is not designed specially for any one class of people. It
is for all. It is a universal repository of thought. Some of my best
thoughts are contained in this book. Whenever I would think a thought
that I thought had better remain unthought, I would omit it from this
book. For that reason the book is not so large as I had intended. When a
man coldly and dispassionately goes at it to eradicate from his work
all that may not come up to his standard of merit, he can make a large
volume shrink till it is no thicker than the bank book of an outspoken
clergyman.
This is the fourth book that I have published in response to the
clamorous appeals of the public. Whenever the public got to clamoring
too loudly for a new book from me and it got so noisy that I could not
ignore it any more, I would issue another volume. The first was a red
book, succeeded by a dark blue volume, after which I published a green
book, all of which were kindly received by the American people, and,
under the present yielding system of international copyright, greedily
snapped up by some of the tottering dynasties.
But I had long hoped to publish a larger, better and, if possible, a
redder book than the first; one that would contain my better thoughts,
thoughts that I had thought when I was feeling well; thoughts that I had
emitted while my thinker was rearing up on its hind feet, if I may be
allowed that term; thoughts that sprang forth with a wild whoop and
demanded recognition.
This book is the result of that hope and that wish. It is my greatest
and best book. It is the one that will live for weeks after other books
have passed away. Even to those who cannot read, it will come like a
benison when there is no benison in the house. To the ignorant, the
pictures will be pleasing. The wise will revel in its wisdom, and the
housekeeper will find that with it she may easily emphasize a statement
or kill a cockroach.
The range of subjects treated in this book is wonderful, even to me! It
is a library of universal knowledge, and the facts contained in it are
different from any other facts now in use. I have carefully guarded,
all the way through, against using hackneyed and moth-eaten facts. As
a result, I am able to come before the people with a set of new and
attractive statements, so fresh and so crisp that an unkind word would
wither them in a moment.
I believe there is nothing more to add, except that I most heartily
endorse the book. It has been carefully read over by the proof-reader
and myself, so we do not ask the public to do anything that we were not
willing to do ourselves.
_BILL NYE_
BILL NYE'S RED BOOK
MY SCHOOL DAYS.
Looking over my own school days, there are so many things that I would
rather not tell, that it will take very little time and space for me
to use in telling what I am willing that the carping public should know
about my early history.
I began my educational career in a log school house. Finding that other
great men had done that way, I began early to look around me for a log
school house where I could begin in a small way to soak my system full
of hard words and information.
For a time I learned very rapidly. Learning came to me with very little
effort at first. I would read my lesson over once or twice and then take
my place in the class. It never bothered me to recite my lesson and so
I stood at the head of the class. I could stick my big toe through a
knot-hole in the floor and work out the most difficult problem. This
became at last a habit with me. With my knot-hole I was safe, without it
I would hesitate.
A large red-headed boy, with feet like a summer squash and eyes like
those of a dead codfish, was my rival. He soon discovered that I was
very dependent on that knot-hole, and so one night he stole into the
school house and plugged up the knot-hole, so that I could not work my
toe into it and thus refresh my memory.
Then the large red-headed boy, who had not formed the knot-hole habit,
went to the head of the class and remained there.
After I grew larger, my parents sent me to a military school. That is
where I got the fine military learning and stately carriage that I still
wear.
My room was on the second floor, and it was very difficult for me to
leave it at night, because the turnkey locked us up at 9 o'clock every
evening. Still, I used to get out once in awhile and wander around in
the starlight. I do not know yet why I did it, but I presume it was
a kind of somnambulism. I would go to bed thinking so intently of my
lessons that I would get up and wander away, sometimes for miles, in the
solemn night.
One night I awoke and found myself in a watermelon patch. I was never so
ashamed in my life. It is a very serious thing to be awakened so rudely
out of a sound sleep, by a bull dog, to find yourself in the watermelon
vineyard of a man with whom you are not acquainted. I was not on terms
of social intimacy with this man or his dog. They did not belong to our
set. We had never been thrown together before.
After that I was called the great somnambulist and men who had
watermelon conservatories shunned me. But it cured me of my
somnambulism. I have never tried to somnambule any more since that time.
There are other little incidents of my school days that come trooping
up in my memory at this moment, but they were not startling in their
nature. Mine is but the history of one who struggled on | 1,436.639017 |
2023-11-16 18:41:00.6190500 | 2,562 | 11 |
Produced by David Edwards, Emmy 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.)
The Nursery Rhyme Book
[Illustration: Little Bo-Peep]
THE NURSERY RHYME BOOK
EDITED BY ANDREW LANG
ILLUSTRATED BY L. LESLIE BROOKE
_Copyright 1897 by F. Warne & Co._
LONDON. FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. AND NEW YORK
MDCCCXCVII
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
[Illustration: Preface]
TO read the old Nursery Rhymes brings back queer lost memories of a
man's own childhood. One seems to see the loose floppy picture-books of
long ago, with their boldly pictures. The books were tattered
and worn, and my first library consisted of a wooden box full of these
volumes. And I can remember being imprisoned for some crime in the
closet where the box was, and how my gaolers found me, happy and
impenitent, sitting on the box, with its contents all round me,
reading.
There was "Who Killed Cock Robin?" which I knew by heart before I could
read, and I learned to read (entirely "without tears") by picking out
the letters in the familiar words. I remember the Lark dressed as a
clerk, but what a clerk might be I did not ask. Other children, who are
little now, will read this book, and remember it well when they have
forgotten a great deal of history and geography. We do not know what
poets wrote the old Nursery Rhymes, but certainly some of them were
written down, or even printed, three hundred years ago. Grandmothers
have sung them to their grandchildren, and they again to theirs, for
many centuries. In Scotland an old fellow will take a child on his knee
for a ride, and sing--
"This is the way the ladies ride,
Jimp and sma',--"
a smooth ride, then a rough trot,--
"This is the way the cadgers ride.
Creels and a'!"
Such songs are sometimes not printed, but they are never forgotten.
About the people mentioned in this book:--We do not exactly know who Old
King Cole was, but King Arthur must have reigned some time about 500 to
600 A.D. As a child grows up, he will, if he is fond of poetry, read
thousands of lines about this Prince, and the Table Round where his
Knights dined, and how four weeping Queens carried him from his last
fight to Avalon, a country where the apple-trees are always in bloom.
But the reader will never forget the bag-pudding, which "the Queen next
morning fried." Her name was Guinevere, and the historian says that she
"was a true lover, and therefore made she a good end." But she had a
great deal of unhappiness in her life.
I cannot tell what King of France went up the hill with twenty thousand
men, and did nothing when he got there. But I do know who Charley was
that "loved good ale and wine," and also "loved good brandy," and was
fond of a pretty girl, "as sweet as sugar-candy." This was the banished
Prince of Wales, who tried to win back his father's kingdom more than a
hundred years ago, and gained battles, and took cities, and would have
recovered the throne if his officers had followed him. But he was as
unfortunate as he was brave, and when he had no longer a chance, perhaps
he _did_ love good ale and wine rather too dearly. As for the pretty
girls, they all ran after him, and he could not run away like Georgey
Porgey. There is plenty of poetry about Charley, as well as about King
Arthur.
About King Charles the First, "upon a black horse," a child will soon
hear at least as much as he can want, and perhaps his heart "will be
ready to burst," as the rhyme says, with sorrow for the unhappy King.
After he had his head cut off, "the Parliament soldiers went to the
King," that is, to his son Charles, and crowned him in his turn, but he
was thought a little too gay. Then we come to the King "who had a
daughter fair, and gave the Prince of Orange her."
There is another rhyme about him:--
"O what's the rhyme to porringer?
Ken ye the rhyme to porringer?
King James the Seventh had ae dochter,
And he gave her to an Oranger.
Ken ye how he requited him?
Ken ye how he requited him?
The lad has into England come,
And ta'en the crown in spite o' him.
The dog, he shall na keep it lang,
To flinch we'll make him fain again;
We'll hing him hie upon a tree,
And James shall have his ain again."
The truth is, that the Prince of Orange and the King's daughter fair
(really a very pretty lady, with a very ugly husband) were not at all
kind to the King, but turned him out of England. He was the grandfather
of Charley who loved good ale and wine, and who very nearly turned out
King Georgey Porgey, a German who "kissed the girls and made them cry,"
as the poet likewise says. Georgey was not a handsome King, and nobody
cared much for him; and if any poetry was made about him, it was very
bad stuff, and all the world has forgotten it. He had a son called Fred,
who was killed by a cricket-ball--an honourable death. A poem was made
when Fred died:--
"Here lies Fred,
Who was alive and is dead.
If it had been his father,
I would much rather;
If it had been his brother,
Still better than another;
If it had been his sister,
No one would have missed her;
If it had been the whole generation,
So much the better for the nation.
But as it's only Fred,
Who was alive and is dead,
Why there's no more to be said."
[Illustration: FREDERIC.WILLIAE PRINCEPS]
This poet seems to have preferred Charley, who wore a white rose in his
bonnet, and was much handsomer than Fred.
Another rhyme tells about Jim and George, and how Jim got George by the
nose. This Jim was Charley's father, and the George whom he "got by the
nose" was Georgey Porgey, the fat German. Jim was born on June 10; so
another song says--
"Of all the days that's in the year,
The Tenth of June to me's most dear,
When our White Roses will appear
To welcome Jamie the Rover."
But, somehow, George really got Jim by the nose, in spite of what the
poet says; for it does not do to believe all the history in song-books.
After these songs there is not much really useful information in the
Nursery Rhymes. Simple Simon was not Simon Fraser of Lovat, who was
sometimes on Jim's side, and sometimes on George's, till he got his head
cut off by King George. That Simon was not simple.
The Babes in the Wood you may read about here and in longer poems; for
instance, in a book called "The Ingoldsby Legends." It was their wicked
uncle who lost them in the wood, because he wanted their money. Uncles
were exceedingly bad long ago, and often smothered their nephews in the
Tower, or put out their eyes with red-hot irons. But now uncles are the
kindest people in the world, as every child knows.
About Brian O'Lin there is more than this book says:--
"Brian O'Lin had no breeches to wear;
He bought him a sheepskin to make him a pair,
The woolly side out, and the other side in:
'It's pleasant and cool,' says Brian O'Lin."
He is also called Tom o' the Lin, and seems to have been connected with
Young Tamlane, who was carried away by the Fairy Queen, and brought back
to earth by his true love. Little Jack Horner lived at a place called
Mells, in Somerset, in the time of Henry VIII. The plum he got was an
estate which had belonged to the priests. I find nobody else here about
whom history teaches us till we come to Dr. Faustus. He was _not_ "a
very good man"; that is a mistake, or the poem was written by a friend
of the Doctor's. In reality he was a wizard, and raised up Helen of Troy
from the other world, the most beautiful woman who ever was seen. Dr.
Faustus made an agreement with Bogie, who, after the Doctor had been gay
for a long time, came and carried him off in a flash of fire. You can
read about it all in several books, when you are a good deal older. Dr.
Faustus was a German, and the best play about him is by a German poet.
As to Tom the Piper's Son, he was probably the son of a Highlander, for
they were mostly on Charley's side, who was "Over the hills and far
away." Another song says--
"There was a wind, it came to me
Over the south and over the sea,
And it has blown my corn and hay
Over the hills and far away.
But though it left me bare indeed,
And blew my bonnet off my head,
There's something hid in Highland brae,
It has not blown my sword away.
Then o'er the hills and over the dales,
Over all England, and thro' Wales,
The broadsword yet shall bear the sway,
Over the hills and far away!"
Tom piped this tune, and pleased both the girls and boys.
About the two birds that sat on a stone, on the "All-Alone Stone," you
can read in a book called "The Water-Babies."
Concerning the Frog that lived in a well, and how he married a King's
daughter and was changed into a beautiful Prince, there is a fairy tale
which an industrious child ought to read. The frog in the rhyme is not
nearly so lucky.
After these rhymes there come a number of riddles, of which the answers
are given. Then there are charms, which people used to think would help
in butter-making or would cure diseases. It is not generally thought now
that they are of much use, but there can be no harm in trying. Nobody
will be burned now for saying these charms, like the poor old witches
long ago. The Queen Anne mentioned on page 172 was the sister of the
other Princess who married the Prince of Orange, and she was Charley's
aunt. She had seventeen children, and only one lived to be as old as ten
years. He was a nice boy, and had a regiment of boy-soldiers.
"Hickory Dickory Dock" is a rhyme for counting out a lot of children.
The child on whom the last word falls has to run after the others in the
game of "Tig" or "Chevy." There is another of the same kind:--
"Onery
Twoery
Tickery
Tin
Alamacrack
Tenamalin
Pin
Pan
Musky Dan
Tweedleum
| 1,436.63909 |
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SUPERNATURAL RELIGION:
AN INQUIRY INTO THE REALITY OF DIVINE REVELATION.
By Walter Richard Cassels
In Three Volumes: Vol. II.
Complete Edition.
Carefully Revised.
London:
Longmans, Greenland Co.,
1879.
PG EDITOR'S NOTE: This file has been provided with an image of the
original scan for each page which is linked to the page number in the
html file. Nearly every page in the text has many Greek passages which
have been indicated where they occur by [------] as have many complex
tables; these passages may be viewed in the page images. Some of the
pages have only a few lines of text and then the rest of the page is
taken up with complex footnotes in English, Greek and Hebrew. The reader
may click on the page numbers in the html file to see the entire page
with the footnotes. --DW
AN INQUIRY INTO THE REALITY OF DIVINE REVELATION
PART II.
CHAPTER V. THE CLEMENTINES--THE EPISTLE TO DIOGNETUS
We must now as briefly as possible examine the evidence furnished by
the apocryphal religious romance generally known by the name of "The
Clementines," and assuming, falsely of course,(1) to be the composition
of the Roman Clement. The Clementines are composed of three principal
works, the Homilies, Recognitions, and a so-called Epitome. The
Homilies, again, are prefaced by a pretended epistle addressed by the
Apostle Peter to James, and another from Clement. These Homilies were
only known in an imperfect form till 1853, when Dressel(2) published
a complete Greek text. Of the Recognitions we only possess a Latin
translation by Rufinus (a.d. 402).
{2}
Although there is much difference of opinion regarding the claims to
priority of the Homilies and Recognitions, many critics assigning that
place to the Homilies,(1) whilst others assert the earlier origin of the
Recognitions,(2) all are agreed that the one is merely a version of the
other, the former being embodied almost word for word in the latter,
whilst the Epitome is a blending of the other two, probably intended
to purge them from heretical doctrine. These works, however, which are
generally admitted to have emanated from the Ebionitic party of the
early Church,(3) are supposed to be based upon older Petrine writings,
such as the "Preaching of Peter" [------], and the "Travels of Peter"
[------].(4)
{3}
It is not necessary for our purpose to go into any analysis of the
character of the Clementines. It will suffice to say that they almost
entirely consist of discussions between the Apostle Peter and Simon
the Magician regarding the identity of the true Mosaic and Christian
religions. Peter follows the Magician from city to city for the purpose
of exposing and refuting him, the one, in fact, representing Apostolic
doctrine and the other heresy, and in the course of these discussions
occur the very numerous quotations of sayings of Jesus and of Christian
history which we have to examine.
The Clementine Recognitions, as we have already remarked, are only known
to us through the Latin translation of Rufinus; and from a comparison of
the evangelical quotations occurring in that work with the same in the
Homilies, it is evident that Rufinus has assimilated them in the course
of translation to the parallel passages of our Gospels. It is admitted,
therefore, that no argument regarding the source of the quotations can
rightly be based upon the Recognitions, and that work may, consequently,
be entirely set aside,(1) and the Clementine Homilies alone need occupy
our attention.
We need scarcely remark that, unless the date at which these Homilies
were composed can be ascertained, their value as testimony for the
existence of our Synoptic Gospels is seriously affected. The difficulty
of arriving at a correct conclusion regarding this point, great under
almost any circumstances, is of course increased by the fact that the
work is altogether apocryphal, and most certainly not held by any one to
have
{4}
been written by the person whose name it bears. There is in fact nothing
but internal evidence by which to fix the date, and that internal
evidence is of a character which admits of very wide extension down the
course of time, although a sharp limit is set beyond which it cannot
mount upwards. Of external evidence there is almost none, and what
little exists does not warrant an early date. Origen, it is true,
mentions [------],(1) which, it is conjectured, may either be the same
work as the [------], or Recognitions, translated by Rufinus, or
related to it, and Epiphanius and others refer to [------];(2) but
our Clementine Homilies are not mentioned by any writer before
pseudo-Athanasius.(3) The work, therefore, can at the best afford no
substantial testimony to the antiquity and apostolic origin of our
Gospels. Hilgenfeld, following in the steps of Baur, arrives at the
conclusion that the Homilies are directed against the Gnosticism of
Marcion (and also, as we shall hereafter see, against the Apostle Paul),
and he, therefore, necessarily assigns to them a date subsequent to a.d.
160. As Reuss, however, inquires: upon this ground, why should a still
later date not be named, since even Tertullian wrote vehemently against
the same Gnosis.(4) There can be little doubt that the author was a
representative of Ebionitic Gnosticism, which had once been the purest
form of primitive Christianity, but later, through its own development,
though still more through the rapid growth around it of Paulinian
doctrine, had
{5}
assumed a position closely verging upon heresy. It is not necessary
for us, however, to enter upon any exhaustive discussion of the date at
which the Clementines were written; it is sufficient to show that there
is no certain ground upon which a decision can be based, and that even
an approximate conjecture can scarcely be reasonably advanced. Critics
variously date the composition of the original Recognitions from about
the middle of the second century to the end of the third, though the
majority are agreed in placing them at least in the latter century.(1)
They assign to the Homilies an origin at different dates within a period
commencing about the middle of the second century, and extending to a
century later.2
In the Homilies there are very numerous quotations
{6}
of sayings of Jesus and of Gospel history, which are generally placed
in the mouth of Peter, or introduced with such formulae as: "The teacher
said," "Jesus said," "He said," "The prophet said," but in no case does
the author name the source from which these sayings and quotations are
derived. That he does, however, quote from a written source, and not
from tradition, is clear from the use of such expressions as "in another
place [------](1) he has said," which refer not to other localities or
circumstances, but another part of a written history.(2) There are in
the Clementine Homilies upwards of a hundred quotations of sayings of
Jesus or references to his history, too many by far for us to examine
in detail here; but, notwithstanding the number of these passages, so
systematically do they vary, more or less, from the parallels in our
canonical Gospels, that, as in the case of Justin, Apologists are
obliged to have recourse to the elastic explanation, already worn so
threadbare, of "free quotation from memory" and "blending of passages"
to account for the remarkable phenomena presented. It must, however,
be evident that the necessity for such an apology at all shows the
insufficiency of the evidence furnished by these quotations. De
Wette says: "The quotations of evangelical works and histories in the
pseudo-Clementine writings, from their nature free and inaccurate,
permit only an uncertain conclusion to be
{7}
drawn as to their written source."(1) Critics have maintained very
different and conflicting views regarding that source. Apologists, of
course, assert that the quotations in the Homilies are taken from
our Gospels only.(2) Others ascribe them to our Gospels, with a
supplementary apocryphal work: the Gospel according to the Hebrews, or
the Gospel according to Peter.(3) Some, whilst admitting a subsidiary
use of some of our Gospels, assert that the author of the Homilies
employs, in preference, the Gospel according to Peter;(4) whilst others,
recognizing also the similarity of the phenomena presented by these
quotations with those of Justin's, conclude that the author does not
quote our Gospels at all, but makes use of the Gospel according to
Peter, or the Gospel according to the Hebrews.(5) Evidence permitting of
such divergent conclusions manifestly cannot be of a decided character.
We may affirm, however, that few of those who are
{8}
willing to admit the use of our Synoptics by the author of the Homilies
along with other sources, make that concession on the strength of the
absolute isolated evidence of the Homilies themselves, but they are
generally moved by antecedent views on the point. In an inquiry like
that which we have undertaken, however, such easy and indifferent
judgment would obviously be out of place, and the point we have to
determine is not whether an author may have been acquainted with our
Gospels, but whether he furnishes testimony that he actually was in
possession of our present Gospels and regarded them as authoritative.
We have already mentioned that the author of the Clementine Homilies
never names the source from which his quotations are derived. Of these
very numerous quotations we must again distinctly state that only two or
three, of a very brief and fragmentary character, literally agree with
our Synoptics, whilst all the rest differ more or less widely from
the parallel passages in those Gospels. Some of these quotations are
repeated more than once with the same persistent and characteristic
variations, and in several cases, as we have already seen, they agree
more or less closely with quotations of Justin from the Memoirs of the
Apostles. Others, again, have no parallels at all in our Gospels, and
even Apologists are consequently compelled to admit the collateral
use of an apocryphal Gospel. As in the case of Justin, therefore, the
singular phenomenon is presented of a vast number of quotations of which
only one or two brief phrases, too fragmentary to avail as evidence,
perfectly agree with our Gospels; whilst of the rest, which all vary
more or less, some merely resemble combined passages of two Gospels,
others merely contain the sense, some
{9}
present variations likewise found in other writers or in various parts
of the Homilies are repeatedly quoted with the same variations, and
others are not found in our Gospels at all. Such phenomena cannot
be fairly accounted for by any mere theory of imperfect memory or
negligence. The systematic variation from our Synoptics, variation
proved by repetition not to be accidental, coupled with quotations which
have no parallels at all in our Gospels, more naturally point to the
use of a different Gospel. In no case can the Homilies be accepted as
furnishing evidence even of the existence of our Gospels.
As it is impossible here to examine in detail all of the quotations in
the Clementine Homilies, we must content ourselves with this distinct
statement of their character, and merely illustrate briefly the
different classes of quotations, exhausting, however, those which
literally agree with passages in the Gospels. The most determined
of recent Apologists do not afford us an opportunity of testing
the passages upon which they base their assertion of the use of our
Synoptics, for they simply assume that the author used them without
producing instances.(1)
The first quotation agreeing with a passage in our Synoptics occurs
in Hom. iii. 52: | 1,436.64499 |
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Transcriber's note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Printer
errors have been changed and are listed at the end.
The <DW52> Girl Beautiful
THE
<DW52> GIRL
BEAUTIFUL
By
E. AZALIA HACKLEY
Author of "A Guide in Voice Culture" and
"Public School Lessons in Voice Culture."
BURTON PUBLISHING COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
Copyrighted 1916
By E. Azalia Hackley
Dedication.
To <DW52> women in whom I have faith and to <DW52> children whom I
love, I send this little message.
Foreword.
This volume has been compiled from talks given to girls in
boarding schools. The first talk was given at the Tuskegee Institute at
the request of the Dean of the Girls' Department.
It was an impromptu talk after an hour's notice. Just before the Dean
closed the door to leave me alone with the girls, I repeated my
question, "What shall I talk about?" The reply was, "Tell them anything
you think they should know. They will believe an experienced woman like
you who travels and knows the world and life."
As I looked at the sea of faces, "wanting to know," and as I thought of
all they had to learn, the vastness of all of it almost overpowered me.
"May I sit down, girls? Now, what shall we talk about that is
interesting to every one of you?"
"Would you like to talk about Love--real Love?" "Yes, yes," came the
answer. "Would you like to talk about Beauty--real Beauty?" "Yes! Yes!"
they answered and the chairs were pulled forward. For forty minutes we
had a heart to heart talk. The dean and teachers had perhaps told the
girls the same words, but the message seemed to come more directly to
them from one who had daily contact with the great, busy world.
The talks were very informal and personal and as the girls asked
questions the thought came to me to jot down the points, that similar
talks might be given to the girls in other schools. Then came the
request, "You come so seldom, can you print the talks?" Much of the
talks could not be printed because many of the questions and answers
were personal.
If I had a daughter I would desire that she should know these things and
more, that she might be a beacon light to her home and to the race. As I
have not been blessed with a daughter, I send these thoughts to the
daughters of other <DW52> women, hoping that among them there is some
new thought worthy of a racial "Amen."
E. AZALIA HACKLEY.
Chicago, Ill., August, 1916.
CONTENTS
The Future Page 17
The Child Beautiful 23
The <DW52> Girl Beautiful 41
Laws Of Attraction--Vibrations 55
Love 61
Personal Appearance 71
Deep Breathing 79
Originality 85
Youth And Maturity 97
Self Control 101
Her Relationship With Men 109
The Religion Of The <DW52> Girl Beautiful 117
The School Of The <DW52> Girl Beautiful 133
The Home Of The <DW52> Girl Beautiful 143
The Working Girl Beautiful 151
The <DW52> Woman Beautiful 161
The <DW52> Wife Beautiful 169
The Mother Beautiful 181
The Future.
The beautiful part about the <DW52> race in America, is the future. As
a mixed race we are undeveloped. We may become whatever we WILL to
become.
This race is a growing people. The future is veiled but it may reveal
some strange things to the world. What opportunities there are for
leadership! If there were only some ways to "squelch" the fakers and
arouse the dreamers!
If each would only think out a different plan for race advancement,
there would always be followers. Some would be attracted in one way and
others reached in another way, and so carry lines of thought.
The gardener is aiming towards better vegetation. Scrubs and dwarfs are
sacrificed totally to produce a more perfect plant.
The horse breeder, any animal breeder, the bird fancier, all aim to get
a better breed of stock in each generation.
The cry of the hour is "A better breed of babies." As it takes several
generations to breed a prize winner, it is time for the <DW52> race to
look into these things and prepare for the future child,
handicapped as it will be. Nature needs assistance in this.
Attractiveness in appearance is a strong factor in success. A pleasing,
even, charming personal appearance may be cultivated.
The mind--the gray matter--either fills the body with life or beauty, or
it destroys life and beauty, according to the concentration of thought,
and resulting habits.
If one were to ask, "Can a leopard change its spots," the reply must
always be, "No." But if one were to ask if the <DW64> could change his
appearance, through himself, his own will power, the answer would be,
"Yes," because the <DW64> has a thinking brain. He may become as
attractive as he wills to become.
As his taste and ideas of beauty conform to the accepted, so will he
grow like these ideals and standards.
The Child Beautiful.
Every baby is beautiful to its mother. Every baby is generally,
only cunning or cute to many of the white race who have their own ideal
of baby beauty, which depends mainly upon a white skin.
Beauty is a matter of personal opinion. To a savage African, a baby with
a black skin and flat nose is the ideal.
To a Chinese, a plump, yellow, slant eyed baby satisfies.
To the Esquimaux, the round faced, small eyed, black haired little one
is the admired type.
A child should be taught to love and be proud of its race and to know
the good points of the race.
babies are born with rare physical gifts. First: They are born
with the most beautiful eyes in the world. Unlike foreign children who
come to this country, they seldom have sore eyes. I have visited about
six hundred schools and have yet to see a sore eyed
child.
The obligation of a gift is the preservation and cultivation of this
gift. Little <DW52> children should be taught to keep their eyes open
and bright with intelligence and clear with good health, because the
eyes are the windows of the soul. Their eyes should look straight into
the eyes of others with their souls shining through. Their eyes must be
kind eyes, listening eyes, observant eyes, thoughtful eyes, and
remembering eyes.
Second: <DW52> people are credited with having the finest teeth in the
world. The obligation of this gift is cleanliness and preservation of
this attractive gift. A child should be taught to deny herself
to pay a dentist's bill.
Third: <DW52> people have the finest voices in the world. The
obligation of this gift is its cultivation, proper care and control of
the voice, and to speak in good English.
There are other natural gifts but of them--later on. The greatest gift
to the <DW64> is himself. So much in him is hidden, spiritually,
intellectually, psychically and physically, that he is a vast unexplored
mine.
All babies like all little white babies, excepting in the shades
of color, are born about alike, with round or long heads, all with the
same soft spot on the crown, and like white babies, are mostly all mouth
because they are hungry little animals and use their mouths often.
As the child observes, thinks, and "wills," the bumps and hollows
appear, the features develop and lines grow. Any ugly little baby may
develop into a beautiful child. Any beautiful child may grow ugly and
coarse.
If babies were born with developed features they would be monstrosities.
"Within each of them is an inward sculptor, Thought, who is a rapid,
true workman."
<DW52> children should be taught that Thought will improve their good
points and will eradicate any objectionable points. They should be
taught their good points and their bad points, and should be encouraged
to improve their personal appearance, as far as objectionable racial
characteristics are concerned.
As the girl grows she should be taught the value of personal appearance
as a factor in her life problem and ultimate success.
A little <DW52> girl who wants to be pretty should be taught what
"pretty" really is. The old proverb says, "Pretty is as pretty does,"
thus recognizing the power of the inward Sculptor Thought, and its
controlling and cultivating forces.
At an early age the child should be given subjects to think about. She
should be taught to see the beautiful in Nature and Art that the
reflection may be seen in her face and in her actions. Ask her if she
saw the sun rise this morning or the sun set last night, or if she
noticed the moon light, or the grandeur of the low black clouds, or the
fleeciness of the soft white clouds; tell her to listen to the language
of the birds and insects, and the sighing of the winds through the
trees. Tell her to listen to the teeming of the earth and ask where and
when the earth smells the sweetest. Teach her to walk and talk with
Mother Nature and to recognize her voice in everything, until Nature
will appear more, mean more, and teach more. Companionship with flowers
and the cultivation of plants is to be recommended, even in the most
congested flat life.
The child should be taught <DW64> History that | 1,436.838396 |
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A TREATISE
ON
ACUPUNCTURATION, &c.
DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION,
TO
ASTLEY COOPER, ESQ. F. R. S.
Plummer and Brewis, Printers, Love Lane, Eastcheap.
[Illustration: ACUPUNCTURATION NEEDLES.]
A TREATISE
ON
ACUPUNCTURATION;
BEING
A DESCRIPTION OF A SURGICAL OPERATION ORIGINALLY PECULIAR
TO THE JAPONESE AND CHINESE, AND BY THEM
DENOMINATED
ZIN-KING,
_Now introduced into European Practice_,
WITH
DIRECTIONS FOR ITS PERFORMANCE,
AND
CASES ILLUSTRATING ITS SUCCESS.
BY
_JAMES MORSS CHURCHILL_,
MEMBER OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS IN LONDON.
_LONDON_:
PUBLISHED BY SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL,
STATIONER’S COURT;
SOLD BY E. COX AND SON, ST. THOMAS’S STREET; J. CALLOW,
PRINCE’S STREET, SOHO; MESSRS. UNDERWOOD, FLEET STREET;
BURGESS AND HILL, WINDMILL STREET; AND J. COX, BERNERS STREET,
OXFORD STREET.
TO
ASTLEY COOPER, ESQ.
THE STEADY FRIEND AND PATRON OF HUMBLE MERIT,
THE AUTHOR RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBES
THIS LITTLE TREATISE;
LESS FROM PRESUMPTION OF ITS DESERVING
HIS APPROBATION,
THAN
AS A MARK OF RESPECT
FOR SPLENDID ACQUIREMENTS,
AND OF
GRATITUDE,
TOWARDS A GREAT MASTER.
TREATISE
ON
ACUPUNCTURATION.
_Preliminary Remarks._
If the medical profession merit the reproach, of being easily deluded
into an admiration of novelty, then I need use no apology for
introducing the following pages to notice, nor will my subject stand in
need of prefatory allurements to obtain attention; but if on the other
hand, a rational theory, built on sound logical reasoning, be the only
evidence to which any value can be attached, then will my efforts have
been unavailing and fruitless. Under the impression, however, that
there exists a desire for speculation and discovery on the one hand,
regulated and qualified by a moderate and proper degree of scepticism
on the other, I shall presume a medium of the two extremes, and
proceed without apology or preface to my subject, trusting, that the
interesting facts which I have to relate, will elicit such attention
and investigation, as will kindle a desire in some men, at least, to
become acquainted with a process, which appears to rival the most
successful operations for the relief of human sufferings.
I should not have taken the tales which are told of the wonderful cures
effected by this operation amongst the original founders of it, as
sufficient authority for recommending it, nor would I admit the fables
which are promulgated by these people, as evidence of its efficacy, had
not this efficacy been witnessed by European spectators on its native
soil, and at length experienced in our hemisphere; and even, latterly,
in our own country.
The operation of acupuncturation has been seen by so few Europeans,
that our books have made us acquainted with little more than its
name. It is of Asiatic origin, and China and Japan peculiarly claim
it as their own. A writer in the year 1802, mentions a discovery of
its having been practised by the natives of America, and refers to
Dampier’s voyages for an account of it; but I have in vain followed
Capt. Dampier’s relation of his adventures, in crossing from the
South to the North Sea, over the Isthmus of Darien, for any account
of the operation, for he does not so much as name it. He speaks of a
work intended to be published by his surgeon, Mr. Lionel Wafer, who
accompanied the expedition, and to which he refers his readers for an
account of the manners and customs of the interior of the country. Mr.
Wafer was detained, from an accident, a considerable time amongst
the Darien Indians, and did, on his return to England, publish this
book, which I have therefore been at the trouble of perusing, but do
not learn from it, that the operation of acupuncturation was practised
in that part of America: it is true, Mr. Wafer describes a method of
blood-letting employed by the natives, which is somewhat correspondent
to acupuncturation, but both the intention and the effect are widely
different. This operation is effected in the following manner: the
patient is taken to a river, and seated upon a stone in the middle of
it. A native, dexterous in the use of the bow, now shoots a number of
small arrows into various parts of the body. These arrows are prepared
purposely for this operation, and are so constructed, that they
cannot penetrate beyond the skin, the veins of which, opened by the
puncturation, furnish numerous streams of blood, which flow down the
body of the patient. If this be the operation which has given rise to
the idea, that acupuncturation is practised by the American natives,
the conclusion is evidently erroneous, as it is simply a method of
blood-letting, and is generally resorted to for the cure of fever.
Now, acupuncturation has no reference whatever to bleeding, and it
is rare, that even a drop of blood follows either the introduction
or withdrawing of the needle; nor does it appear, that the Chinese
and Japanese, with whom it originated, intended it as a method of
abstracting blood, which is proved, not only by the consequences of
the operation, but by the manner in which it is performed, and the
nature of the diseases to which it is applied. If it could have been
established, that the natives of the American Isthmus were acquainted
with it, it would have been a curious, as well as an interesting
enquiry, to ascertain whence they derived it.
It is a little strange, that the surprising efficacy, of which so
much has been boasted by its eastern professors, and the safety,
at least, with which acupuncturation may be performed, having been
so fully demonstrated; it is strange I repeat, that it has not met
with an earlier encouragement amongst us. It is probable, that the
hyperbole in which it has been related, has induced the sober minds
of our Northern soil, to treat these relations as the fictions of
Eastern imagination, and to reject them without examination, as
fables calculated only for amusement. There have not, however, been
wanting sensible minds, and men of talent and reputation, to recommend
this operation; and the names of Ten-Rhyne, Bidloo, Kœmpfer, and
Vicq-d’Azyr, stand conspicuous on the list of those who speak in its
favour; but still, neither of them had undertaken to put its merits
to the test, by actual experiment. Several practitioners in France,
however, have now taken up this neglected operation, and their
report verifies the praises which have been bestowed by others upon
it. My attention was lately directed to it by my friend Mr. Scott,
of Westminster, | 1,436.841669 |
2023-11-16 18:41:00.9161470 | 2,826 | 7 |
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Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
THE RIDE TO THE LADY
And Other Poems
BY
HELEN GRAY CONE
1891
CONTENTS
The Ride to the Lady
The First Guest
Silence
Arraignment
The Going Out of the Tide
King Raedwald
Ivo of Chartres
Madonna Pia
Two Moods of Failure
The Story of the "Orient"
A Resurrection
The Glorious Company
The Trumpeter
Comrades
The House of Hate
The Arrowmaker
A Nest in a Lyre
Thisbe
The Spring Beauties
Kinship
Compensation
When Willows Green
At the Parting of the Ways
The Fair Gray Lady
The Encounter.
Summer Hours
Love Unsung
The Wish for a Chaplet
Sonnets:
The Torch Race
To Sleep
Sister Snow
The Contrast
A Mystery
Triumph
In Winter, with the Book we had in Spring
Sere Wisdom
Isolation
The Lost Dryad
The Gifts of the Oak
The Strayed Singer
The Immortal Word
THE RIDE TO THE LADY
"Now since mine even is come at last,--
For I have been the sport of steel,
And hot life ebbeth from me fast,
And I in saddle roll and reel,--
Come bind me, bind me on my steed!
Of fingering leech I have no need!"
The chaplain clasped his mailed knee.
"Nor need I more thy whine and thee!
No time is left my sins to tell;
But look ye bind me, bind me well!"
They bound him strong with leathern thong,
For the ride to the lady should be long.
Day was dying; the poplars fled,
Thin as ghosts, on a sky blood-red;
Out of the sky the fierce hue fell,
And made the streams as the streams of hell.
All his thoughts as a river flowed,
Flowed aflame as fleet he rode,
Onward flowed to her abode,
Ceased at her feet, mirrored her face.
(Viewless Death apace, apace,
Rode behind him in that race.)
"Face, mine own, mine alone,
Trembling lips my lips have known,
Birdlike stir of the dove-soft eyne
Under the kisses that make them mine!
Only of thee, of thee, my need!
Only to thee, to thee, I speed!"
The Cross flashed by at the highway's turn;
In a beam of the moon the Face shone stern.
Far behind had the fight's din died;
The shuddering stars in the welkin wide
Crowded, crowded, to see him ride.
The beating hearts of the stars aloof
kept time to the beat of the horse's hoof,
"What is the throb that thrills so sweet?
Heart of my lady, I feel it beat!"
But his own strong pulse the fainter fell,
Like the failing tongue of a hushing bell.
The flank of the great-limbed steed was wet
Not alone with the started sweat.
Fast, and fast, and the thick black wood
Arched its cowl like a black friar's hood;
Fast, and fast, and they plunged therein,--
But the viewless rider rode to win,
Out of the wood to the highway's light
Galloped the great-limbed steed in fright;
The mail clashed cold, and the sad owl cried,
And the weight of the dead oppressed his side.
Fast, and fast, by the road he knew;
And slow, and slow, the stars withdrew;
And the waiting heaven turned weirdly blue,
As a garment worn of a wizard grim.
He neighed at the gate in the morning dim.
She heard no sound before her gate,
Though very quiet was her bower.
All was as her hand had left it late:
The needle slept on the broidered vine,
Where the hammer and spikes of the passion-flower
Her fashioning did wait.
On the couch lay something fair,
With steadfast lips and veiled eyne;
But the lady was not there,
On the wings of shrift and prayer,
Pure as winds that winnow snow,
Her soul had risen twelve hours ago.
The burdened steed at the barred gate stood,
No whit the nearer to his goal.
Now God's great grace assoil the soul
That went out in the wood!
THE FIRST GUEST
When the house is finished, Death enters.
_Eastern Proverb_
Life's House being ready all,
Each chamber fair and dumb,
Ere life, the Lord, is come
With pomp into his hall,--
Ere Toil has trod the floors,
Ere Love has lit the fires,
Or young great-eyed Desires
Have, timid, tried the doors;
Or from east-window leaned
One Hope, to greet the sun,
Or one gray Sorrow screened
Her sight against the west,--
Then enters the first guest,
The House of life being done.
He waits there in the shade.
I deem he is Life's twin,
For whom the house was made.
Whatever his true name,
Be sure, to enter in
He has both key and claim.
The daybeams, free of fear,
Creep drowsy toward his feet;
His heart were heard to beat,
Were any there to hear;
Ah, not for ends malign,
Like wild thing crouched in lair,
Or watcher of a snare,
But with a friend's design
He lurks in shadow there!
He goes not to the gates
To welcome any other,
Nay, not Lord Life, his brother;
But still his hour awaits
Each several guest to find
Alone, yea, quite alone;
Pacing with pensive mind
The cloister's echoing stone,
Or singing, unaware,
At the turning of the stair
Tis truth, though we forget,
In Life's House enters none
Who shall that seeker shun,
Who shall not so be met.
"Is this mine hour?" each saith.
"So be it, gentle Death!"
Each has his way to end,
Encountering this friend.
Griefs die to memories mild;
Hope turns a weaned child;
Love shines a spirit white,
With eyes of deepened light.
When many a guest has passed,
Some day 'tis Life's at last
To front the face of Death.
Then, casements closed, men say:
"Lord Life is gone away;
He went, we trust and pray,
To God, who gave him breath."
Beginning, End, He is:
Are not these sons both His?
Lo, these with Him are one!
To phrase it so were best:
God's self is that first Guest,
The House of Life being done!
SILENCE
Why should I sing of earth or heaven? not rather rest,
Powerless to speak of that which hath my soul possessed,--
For full possession dumb? Yea, Silence, that were best.
And though for what it failed to sound I brake the string,
And dashed the sweet lute down, a too much fingered thing,
And found a wild new voice,--oh, still, why should I sing?
An earth-song could I make, strange as the breath of earth,
Filled with the great calm joy of life and death and birth?
Yet, were it less than this, the song were little worth.
For this the fields caress; brown clods tell each to each;
Sad- leaves have sense whereto I cannot reach;
Spiced everlasting-flowers outstrip my range of speech.
A heaven-song could I make, all fire that yet was peace,
And tenderness not lost, though glory did increase?
But were it less than this, 't were well the song should cease.
For this the still west saith, with plumy flames bestrewn;
Heaven's body sapphire-clear, at stirless height of noon;
The cloud where lightnings pulse, beside the untroubled moon.
I will not sing of earth or heaven, but rather rest,
Rapt by the face of heaven, and hold on earth's warm breast.
Hushed lips, a beating heart, yea, Silence, that were best.
ARRAIGNMENT
"Not ye who have stoned, not ye who have smitten us," cry
The sad, great souls, as they go out hence into dark,
"Not ye we accuse, though for you was our passion borne;
And ye we reproach not, who silently passed us by.
We forgive blind eyes and the ears that would not hark,
The careless and causeless hate and the shallow scorn.
"But ye, who have seemed to know us, have seen and heard;
Who have set us at feasts and have crowned with the costly rose;
Who have spread us the purple of praises beneath our feet;
Yet guessed not the word that we spake was a living word,
Applauding the sound,--we account you as worse than foes!
We sobbed you our message; ye said, 'It is song, and sweet!'"
THE GOING OUT OF THE TIDE
The eastern heaven was all faint amethyst,
Whereon the moon hung dreaming in the mist;
To north yet drifted one long delicate plume
Of roseate cloud; like snow the ocean-spume.
Now when the first foreboding swiftly ran
Through the loud-glorying sea that it began
To lose its late gained lordship of the land,
Uprose the billow like an angered man,
And flung its prone strength far along the sand;
Almost, almost to the old bound, the dark
And taunting triumph-mark.
But no, no, no! and slow, and slow, and slow,
Like a heart losing hold, this wave must go,--
Must go, must go,--dragged heavily back, back,
Beneath the next wave plunging on its track,
Charging, with thunderous and defiant shout,
To fore-determined rout.
Again, again the unexhausted main
Renews fierce effort, drawing force unguessed
From awful deeps of its mysterious breast:
Like arms of passionate protest, tossed in vain,
The spray upflings above the billow's crest.
Again the appulse, again the backward strain--
Till ocean must have rest.
With one abandoned movement, swift and wild,--
As though bowed head and outstretched arms it laid
On the earth's lap, soft sobbing,--hushed and stayed,
The great sea quiets, like a soothed child.
Ha! what sharp memory clove the calm, and drave
This last fleet furious wave?
On, on, endures the struggle into night,
Ancient as Time, yet fresh as the fresh hour;
As oft repeated since the birth of light
As the strong agony and mortal fight
Of human souls, blind-reaching, with the Power
Aloof, unmoved, impossible to cross,
Whose law is seeming loss.
Low-sunken from the longed-for triumph-mark;
The spent sea sighs as one that grieves in sleep.
The unveiled moon along the rippling plain
Casts many a keen, cold, shifting silvery spark,
Wild as the pulses of strange joy, that leap
Even in the quick of pain.
And she compelling, she that stands for law,--
As law for Will eternal,--perfect, clear,
And uncompassionate shines: to her appear
Vast sequences close-linked without a flaw.
All past despairs of ocean unforgot,
All raptures past, serene her light she gives,
The moon too high for pity, since she lives
Aware that loss is not.
KING RAEDWALD
Will you hear now the speech of King Raedwald,--heathen Raedwald,
the simple yet wise?
He, the ruler of North-folk and South-folk, a man open-browed
as the skies,
Held the eyes of the eager Italians with his blue, bold,
Englishman's eyes.
In his hall, on his throne, so he sat, with the light of the fire
on him full:
bright as the ring of red gold on his | 1,436.936187 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Transcribers note:
To improve the reading of the Vol. I, The Index at the end of the Vol. II.
which covers both volumes has been copied to Vol. I. and The Errata has
been corrected.
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
OGIER GHISELIN
DE BUSBECQ
VOL. I.
[Illustration: AVGERIVS GISLENVS BVSBEQVIVS.
_Te voce, Augeri, mulcentem Cæsaris aures
Laudauit plausis Austrius Ister aquis.
Te Ducis Ismarij flectentem pectora verbis
Thrax rapido obstupuit Bosphorus e pelago.
Te gesfisfe domum pro nata Cæsaris, ingens
Sequana conspexit, Parisÿq3 lares_
_I. Lernutius._]
THE
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
OGIER GHISELIN DE BUSBECQ
SEIGNEUR OF BOUSBECQUE
KNIGHT, IMPERIAL AMBASSADOR
BY
CHARLES THORNTON FORSTER, M.A.
_Late Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge: Vicar of Hinxton_
AND
F. H. BLACKBURNE DANIELL, M.A.
_Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge: Barrister-at-Law_
Πολλῶν ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω
_IN TWO VOLUMES_
VOL. I.
LONDON
C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1881
(_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved_)
TO
MONSIEUR JEAN DALLE
MAIRE OF BOUSBECQUE
AS A SLIGHT ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS KINDNESS
AND THE VALUABLE ASSISTANCE WE HAVE
DERIVED FROM HIS RESEARCHES
THESE VOLUMES ARE RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
PREFACE.
We ask to be allowed to introduce the Reader to a kind and genial
cicerone, who can take him back, three centuries deep, into the Past,
and show him the Turk as he was when he dictated to Europe instead of
Europe dictating to him; or conjure once more into life Catherine de
Medici, Navarre, Alençon, Guise, Marguerite the fair and frail, and
that young Queen, whom he loved so well and served so faithfully.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
PAGE
LIFE OF BUSBECQ 1
TURKISH LETTER I. 75
” ” II. 174
” ” III. 192
” ” IV. 315
_Errata._
The references in footnotes on pp. 105-250, to other passages in this
volume after p. 72, should be advanced by 2 pages, e.g. _for_ 163,
_read_ 165.
LIFE OF BUSBECQ.
[Illustration]
LIFE OF BUSBECQ.
_Introductory._
The days are now past when students were content to take their history
at second hand, and there is therefore the less reason to apologise for
introducing to the reader, in an English dress, the letters of one who
was an eyewitness and actor in some of the most important events in the
sixteenth century.
Several of the most striking passages in Robertson’s _History of
Charles V._ are taken from Busbecq; De Thou has borrowed largely from
his letters; and the pages of Gibbon, Coxe, Von Hammer, Ranke, Creasy,
and Motley, testify to the value of information derived from this
source. It must not, however, be supposed that all that is historically
valuable in his writings has found a place in the works of modern
authors. On the contrary, the evidence which Busbecq furnishes has
often been forgotten or ignored.
A remarkable instance of this neglect is to be found in Prescott’s
account of the capture of Djerbé,[1] or Gelves, by the Turks. The
historian of Philip II. has made up this part of his narrative from
the conflicting and vainglorious accounts of Spanish writers, and does
not even allude to the plain, unvarnished tale which Busbecq tells—a
tale which he must have heard from the lips of the commander of the
Christian forces, his friend Don Alvaro de Sandé, and which he had
abundant opportunities of verifying from other sources.
The revival of the Eastern Question has drawn attention in France[2]
to the career and policy of one who was so successful as an ambassador
at Constantinople, and the life of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq has been
the subject of two treatises at least since 1860, while a far more
important work dealing with our author’s life is about to issue from
the press. Of this last we have been allowed to see the proof-sheets,
and we take this opportunity of expressing our obligation to the
author, Monsieur Jean Dalle, Maire de Bousbecque. His book is a
perfect storehouse of local information, and must prove invaluable
to any future historian of the Flemings. It is entitled _Histoire de
Bousbecque_.
During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries hardly any author was
so popular as Busbecq. More than twenty editions[3] of his letters
were published in the literary capitals of Europe—Antwerp, Paris,
Bâle, Frankfort, Hanau, Munich, Louvain, Leipsic, London, Oxford and
Glasgow. His merits as a recorder of contemporary history are briefly
sketched by a writer of that period, who thus describes his despatches
to Rodolph: ‘C’est un portrait au naturel des affaires de France sous
le régne de Henri III. Il raconte les choses avec une naïveté si grande
qu’elles semblent se passer à nos yeux. On ne trouve point ailleurs
tant de faits historiques en si peu de discours. Les grands mouvemens,
comme la conspiration d’Anvers, et les petites intrigues de la cour
y sont également bien marquées. Les attitudes (pour ainsi dire) dans
lesquelles il met Henri III., la Reine Mere, le duc d’Alen | 1,436.939157 |
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Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from
page images generously made available by the Internet
Archive American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/mrspendletonsfou00atherich).
_LITTLE NOVELS BY_
_FAVOURITE AUTHORS_
Mrs. Pendleton’s
Four-in-hand
GERTRUDE ATHERTON
[Illustration: Gertrude Atherton]
[Illustration]
Mrs. Pendleton’s
Four-in-hand
BY
GERTRUDE ATHERTON
AUTHOR OF “THE CONQUEROR,” ETC.
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1903
_All rights reserved_
[Illustration]
COPYRIGHT, 1902,
BY MRS. GERTRUDE ATHERTON.
COPYRIGHT, 1903,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
* * * * *
Set up, electrotyped, and published June, 1903.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Portrait of Gertrude Atherton _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“‘I have been insulted’” 11
“‘Well, why don’t you go?’” 87
[Illustration]
MRS. PENDLETON’S
FOUR-IN-HAND
I
Jessica, her hands clenched and teeth set, stood looking with hard
eyes at a small heap of letters lying on the floor. The sun, blazing
through the open window, made her blink unconsciously, and the ocean’s
deep voice rising to the Newport sands seemed to reiterate:—
“Contempt! Contempt!”
Tall, finely pointed with the indescribable air and style of the New
York woman, she did not suggest intimate knowledge of the word the ocean
hurled to her. In that moss-green room, with her haughty face and clean
skin, her severe faultless gown, she | 1,436.940346 |
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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 | 1,436.943047 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
THE ENGLISHWOMAN IN ITALY.
[Illustration: THE CORNICHE ROAD.]
THE
ENGLISHWOMAN IN ITALY.
IMPRESSIONS OF LIFE
IN THE
ROMAN STATES AND SARDINIA,
DURING A TEN YEARS' RESIDENCE.
BY
MRS. G. GRETTON.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
Departure from Florence—The Vettura—Inn among the
Apennines—General aspect of towns in Romagna—Causes
of their decay—Austrian officers at Forli—Dangers
of the road—First impressions of Ancona 1
CHAPTER II.
Description of the Palazzo—An English family, though
Italian born—Complimentary visits of the Anconitan
nobility—How they pass their time—Dislike to country
walks—Modern _Cavaliere Servente_ 10
CHAPTER III.
A marriage in high life—Wedding outfit—The first
interview—Condition of single women—The laws of
courtship—Dependence of young married people—Anecdotes
of mothers-in-law 19
CHAPTER IV.
System pursued towards children—Results of Jesuit
training—Anecdotes of the Sacré Cœur—A
_Contessina_ just out of the convent—Difficulty
of giving a liberal education to young nobles—No
profession open to them but the Church—Their
ignorance and idleness 26
CHAPTER V.
The middle classes—Superior education of the men—Low
standard of female intellect and manners—Total
separation from the nobility—Cultivated physician—A
peep into his household—Family economy—_Conversazione_
at the chemist's—Passion for gambling—The _caffè_ 37
CHAPTER VI.
Prejudice against fires—General dilapidation of
dwelling-houses—A lady's _valet de chambre_—Kindness
towards servants—Freedom of intercourse with their
masters—Devotedness of Italians to the sick—Horror of
death—Funerals—Mourning 46
CHAPTER VII.
Decline of Carnival diversions—Dislike to being brought
into contact with Austrians—The theatre—Public
_Tombole_—Short-sighted policy of the Government 59
CHAPTER VIII.
The Lottery—Its miserable results—Evening parties—Absence
of all ostentation—Poverty no crime—Grand supper on
Shrove Tuesday—Reception of a Cardinal 67
CHAPTER IX.
Picturesque environs of Ancona—Dwellings of the
peasantry—Their simplicity and trust—Manner of life
and amusements—A wedding feast 76
CHAPTER X.
A rural christening—The young count 86
CHAPTER XI.
Lent observances—Compulsory confession—The sepulchres on
Holy Thursday—Procession on Good Friday—Blessing the
houses—Joyful celebration of Easter 95
CHAPTER XII.
Festivals of the Madonna—The Duomo—Legend of San
Ciriaco—Miraculous Picture—Course of sermons by Padre
G———General irreligion of the Anconitans—Ecclesiastical
tribunal of 1856—The Sacconi 103
CHAPTER XIII.
Political condition of Ancona—Arrogance of the Austrian
General—Strictness of the martial law—A man shot on the
denunciation of his wife—Application of the
stick—Republican excesses—Proneness to
assassination—_Infernal Association_ in 1849 110
CHAPTER XIV.
Execution of a criminal—Sympathy for his fate—The
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[Illustration: "COLONEL TAKE YOUR COLORS!"]
THE SOCK STORIES,
BY "AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER.
RED, WHITE, AND BLUE
SOCKS.
Part First.
BEING
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SERIES.
BY
"AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER,
THE AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE WHITE ANGEL."
WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER,
BY "AUNT FANNY" HERSELF.
NEW YORK:
LEAVITT & ALLEN, 21 & 23 MERCER ST.
1863.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by
S. L. BARROW,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
JOHN F. TROW,
Printer, Stereotyper, and Electrotyper,
60 Greene Street, New York.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION--THE STORY OF THE SOCKS, 7
COLONEL FREDDY; OR, THE MARCH AND
ENCAMPMENT OF THE DASHAHED ZOUAVES,
CHAP. I.--RAISING A REGIMENT, 35
II.--"MARCHING ALONG," 55
III.--CAMP LIFE, 76
DEDICATION.
MY DEAR LITTLE COOLEY AND GEORGIE:
WHEN you see that this book is dedicated to you, I hope your bright eyes
will sparkle with pleasure; but I am afraid your pretty curly heads will
hardly retain a recollection of a little personage who once lived close
to your beautiful home on Staten Island. She remembers _you_, however,
and sends you this soldier story with her very best love--the love she
bears in her inmost heart for God and little children. And now she asks
you to hunt in every corner of those same precious little heads for a
kindly remembrance of your affectionate friend,
"AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER.
THE STORY OF THE SOCKS.
BY AUNT FANNY.
"OH dear! what _shall_ I do?" cried George, fretfully, one rainy
afternoon. "Mamma, do tell me what to do."
"And I'm _so_ tired!" echoed Helen, who was lazily playing with a kitten
in her lap. "I don't see why it should rain on a Friday afternoon, when
we have no lessons to learn. We can't go out, and no one can come to see
us. It's too bad, there!"
"Helen, do _you_ know better than _God_?" asked her mother, speaking
very gravely. "You forget that He sends the rain."
"I suppose I was thoughtless, mamma," answered the child; "I did not
mean to be wicked, but, dear me, the time passes _so_ slowly, with
nothing to do."
"Have you and George read all your books?"
"Oh yes! two or three times over," they both answered; "and oh, mamma,"
continued Helen, "if the one who wrote 'Two Little Heaps,' or the
'Rollo' book writer, or the author of 'The Little White Angel,' would
only write some more books, I, for one, would not care how hard it
rained. If I was grown up and rich, I wouldn't mind giving a dollar a
letter for those stories."
"Nor I," shouted George in an animated tone, quite different from the
discontented whine he had favored his mother with a few moments before;
"the best thing is to have them read aloud to you; that makes you
understand all about it so much better. I say, mamma, couldn't you write
a letter to one of those delightful people and beg them to hurry up with
more stories, especially some about bad children;--not exactly wicked,
you know, but full of mischief. _Then I am sure that they are all true._
Only wait till I'm a man! I'll just write the history of some jolly
fellows I know who are always getting into scrapes, but haven't a scrap
of meanness about them. That's the kind of book I like! I'll write
dozens of them, and give them to all the Sunday school libraries."
His mother smiled at this speech, and then said quietly, "I know a
gentleman who likes the story of 'The Little White Angel,' as much as
you do, and he has written a letter to request the author to write six
books for him."
"Six! hurrah!" shouted George, "how glad I am!" and he skipped up to
Helen, caught her by the hands, and the two danced round the room,
upsetting a chair, till Helen, catching her foot in the skirt of her
mother's dress, they both tumbled down on the carpet together.
"If you cut up such violent capers," said the kind mother, laughing,
"at the first part of my information, it may be dangerous to tell you
what the author replied."
"Oh no, do tell us!" cried the children. "We'll be as still as our
shadows;" and while they made violent efforts to look grave and stand
quiet, their mother told them that the author had consented, the six
books were to be written, and she would buy them the very first day they
were published. "Perhaps," she continued, "mind, only perhaps, I may get
them for you _before_ they are ever printed."
"Why, how, mamma?" they both asked.
"Well, suppose you make some very good resolutions--let me see," and
she took a pencil out of her pocket, and drawing a sheet of paper toward
her, began to write:
"1st. To endeavor to say your prayers morning and evening without a
_wandering thought_.
"2d. To try to keep faithfully 'the Golden Rule.'
"3d. To obey your parents immediately, without asking 'why?'
"4th. (A little rule, but very important.) To keep your teeth, nails,
and hair scrupulously clean and neat.
"5th. To bear disappointments cheerfully.
"There, I think that will do. They are all hard rules except the fourth.
I do not keep them well myself, my dear children. No one can, without
constant watchfulness and prayer for help from above; but you can try,
will you?"
"I will, mamma," said Helen, in a low, earnest tone, her blue eyes
filling with tears.
"And you, George, will you?"
"Yes, mamma, I will try. I can't be a very good boy, as you know. I get
so tired of being good sometimes, that I feel like jumping over the
house to get the badness out of me, instead of sitting down quietly and
thinking about my duty, as papa says I must. When papa locked me up in
his dressing room last summer, and I kicked the door as hard as ever I
could, which made him call out that I should stay there two hours
longer, I was mad enough, I tell you! but I did not cut my name with a
knife on his rosewood bureau _because_ I was angry. It was because I was
almost crazy with doing nothing but think what a bad boy I was. That
made me worse, you see. The best way to punish me is to see you crying
about my conduct. I can't stand that," and the boy put his arms round
his mother's neck, and kissed her fondly.
"My dear boy," said his mother, returning the caress, "there is One whom
you grieve more than me. I wish you would think oftener of that. I know
that different children require different sorts of punishment, and as
neither your father nor I approve of beating you like a dog, and you
say that shutting you up with nothing to do only makes you worse, I
shall advise him the next time you are naughty, to send immediately for
a load of wood, and make you saw it all up into small pieces, or take
you where some house is building and order you to run up and down a long
ladder all day with a hod of bricks on your shoulder, or hire you out to
blow the big bellows for a blacksmith. How do you think you would like
that?"
"I had a great deal rather run after the fire engines, to put the fire
out. That's the kind of work I would like. Every body screaming, and
pumping, and playing streams of water--twenty firemen rushing up
ladders, pulling old women and cats out of the windows, and somebody
inside pitching out the looking glasses and crockery to save them! I
wish our house was on fire this very minute, so I could pull you and
Helen out, and save all the furniture. That would be the greatest fun in
the world!"
"Please don't set fire to the house," cried his mother, laughing, "for
the fun of saving our lives. I prefer to keep it just as it is, and
walking quietly out at the door." As she spoke, the sun suddenly burst
forth from the clouds, and his bright rays darting into the room, the
children sprang joyfully up, | 1,437.034753 |
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THE PEARL OF LIMA.
BY ANNE T. WILBUR.
_Graham's American Monthly Magazine of Literature, Art, and Fashion
(1844-1858)_; Apr 1853; VOL. XLII., No. 4; APS pg. 422
THE PEARL OF LIMA.
A STORY OF TRUE LOVE.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. JULES VERNE.
BY ANNE T. WILBUR.
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Inconsistent hyphenation and spellings have been standardised,
whilst variant and unique spellings remain as printed. For the
reader's ease, although not present in the original text, a brief
table of contents has been included below:
I. THE PLAZA-MAYOR.
II. EVENING IN THE STREETS OF LIMA.
III. THE JEW EVERY WHERE A JEW.
IV. A SPANISH GRANDEE.
V. THE HATRED OF THE INDIANS.
VI. THE BETROTHAL.
VII. ALL INTERESTS AT STAKE.
VIII. CONQUERORS AND CONQUERED.
IX. THE CATARACTS OF THE MADEIRA.
CHAPTER I.
THE PLAZA-MAYOR.
The sun had disappeared behind the snowy peaks of the Cordilleras; but
the beautiful Peruvian sky long retains, through the transparent veil of
night, the reflection of his rays; the atmosphere is impregnated with a
refreshing coolness, which in these burning latitudes affords freedom of
breath; it is the hour in which one can live a European life, and seek
without on the verandas some cooling gentle zephyr; it seems as if a
metallic roof was then interposed between the sun and the earth, which,
retaining the heat and suffering only the light to pass, offers beneath
its shelter a reparative repose.
This much desired hour had at last sounded from the clock of the
cathedral. While the earliest stars were rising above the horizon, the
numerous promenaders were traversing the streets of Lima, wrapped in
their light mantles, and conversing gravely on the most trivial affairs.
There was a great movement of the populace on the Plaza-Mayor, that
forum of the ancient city of kings; artisans were profiting by the
coolness to quit their daily labors; they circulated actively among the
crowd, crying their various merchandise; the ladies of Lima, carefully
enveloped in the mantillas which mask their countenances, with the
exception of the right eye, darted stealthy glances on the surrounding
masses; they undulated through the groups of smokers, like foam at the
will of the waves; other senoras, in ball costume, _coiffed_ only with
their abundant hair or some natural flowers, passed in large caleches,
throwing on the _caballeros_ nonchalant regards.
But these glances were not bestowed indiscriminately upon the young
cavaliers; the thoughts of the noble ladies could rest only on
aristocratic heights. The Indians passed without lifting their eyes upon
them, knowing themselves to be beneath their notice; betraying by no
gesture or word, the bitter envy of their hearts. They contrasted
strongly with the half-breeds, or mestizoes, who, repulsed like the
former, vented their indignation in cries and protestations.
The proud descendants of Pizarro marched with heads high, as in the
times when their ancestors founded the city of kings; their traditional
scorn rested alike on the Indians whom they had conquered, and the
mestizoes, born of their relations with the natives of the New World.
The Indians, on the contrary, were constantly struggling to break their
chains, and cherished alike aversion toward the conquerors of the
ancient empire of the Incas and their haughty and insolent descendants.
But the mestizoes, Spanish in their contempt for the Indians, and Indian
in their hatred which they had vowed against the Spaniards, burned with
both these vivid and impassioned sentiments.
A group of these young people stood near the pretty fountain in the
centre of the Plaza-Mayor. Clad in their _poncho_, a piece of cloth or
cotton in the form of a parallelogram, with an opening in the middle to
give passage to the head, in large pantaloons, striped with a thousand
colors, _coiffed_ with broad-brimmed hats of Guayaquil straw, they were
talking, declaiming, gesticulating.
"You are right, Andre," said a very obsequious young man, whom they
called Milleflores.
This was the friend, the parasite of Andre Certa, a young mestizo of
swarthy complexion, whose thin beard gave a singular appearance to his
countenance.
Andre Certa, the son of a rich merchant killed in the last _emeute_ of
the conspirator Lafuente, had inherited a large fortune; this he freely
scattered among his friends, whose humble salutations he demanded in
exchange for handfuls of gold.
"Of what use are these changes in government, these eternal
_pronunciamentos_ which disturb Peru to gratify private ambition?"
resumed Andre, in a loud voice; "what is it to me whether Gambarra or
Santa Cruz rule, if there is no equality."
"Well said," exclaimed Milleflores, who, under the most republican
government, could never have been the equal of a man of sense.
"How is it," resumed Andre Certa, "that I, the son of a merchant, can
ride only in a caleche drawn by mules? Have not my ships brought wealth
and prosperity to the country? Is not the aristocracy of piasters worth
all the titles of Spain?"
"It is a shame!" resumed the young mestizo. "There is Don Fernand, who
passes in his carriage drawn by two horses! Don Fernand d'Aiquillo! He
has scarcely property enough to feed his coachman and horses, and he
must come to parade himself proudly about the square. And, hold! here is
another! the Marquis Don Vegal!"
A magnificent carriage, drawn by four fine horses, at that moment
entered the Plaza-Mayor; its only occupant was a man of proud mien,
mingled with sadness; | 1,437.04065 |
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THEOSOPHY AND LIFE'S
DEEPER PROBLEMS
_Copyright Registered_
All Rights Reserved
_Permission for translations will be given_
BY
THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE
Adyar, Madras, India
THEOSOPHY AND LIFE'S
DEEPER PROBLEMS
_Being the four Convention Lectures delivered in Bombay
at the Fortieth Anniversary of the Theosophical
Society, December, 1915._
BY
ANNIE BESANT
_President of the Theosophical Society_
THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE
ADYAR, MADRAS, INDIA
T.P.S., LONDON; T.P.H., BENARES;
INDIAN BOOK DEPOT, BOMBAY
1916
FOREWORD
The lectures really need no Foreword. They are frankly propagandist,
being delivered in the City of Bombay, on the occasion of the return
to that city for the first time since the Anniversary held in Framji
Cowasji Hall, on December 7th, 1882, with 15 delegates present. The
little seed there planted in India by our Founders has grown into a
mighty tree. May it continue to spread ever more widely its branches,
and may its leaves be for the healing of the Nations.
ANNIE BESANT
CONTENTS
PAGE
Lecture I GOD 1
Lecture II MAN 25
Lecture III RIGHT AND WRONG 47
Lecture IV BROTHERHOOD 73
THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION
LECTURES
GOD
FRIENDS:
Amid the excitements of the present National Week, amid all the
Conferences on matters of importance to the Nation, amid the
discussions--industrial, commercial, political--which are agitating
this great City, and will agitate it during the next week, we, of the
Theosophical Society, have ventured to invite you here to consider
not the passing concerns of the moment but the perpetual concerns of
the life dealing with the eternal interests, the life wherein alone
permanence can ever be found.
I have chosen for the subject of our Convention Lectures, those
great problems of thought which ever challenge the attention of the
highest mind of man. That question of questions of the nature, of our
conception, of God; the nature of man, his relation to the Universe
in which he finds himself--the evolution of an intelligent spiritual
Being amid the transitory phenomena of passing worlds; then that
profound question of conduct, what is Right and what is Wrong? is
it possible to find a standard of ethics? is it possible to find a
canon of conduct which will guide us in that tangled path of action
which is one of the hardest problems of human life? Then, lastly, the
meaning of Brotherhood, on what it is based, in what it consists, what
duties it imposes upon us, what is to be our attitude to our brethren
on every side. These questions, that on these four mornings we are to
consider, are not questions of the passing time, but are the problems
that confront humanity at all the stages of its evolution. Not only
is that so, but in this alone can we find peace, amid the turmoil of
the world; not in the constant struggles of outer life may peace be
found, but in the heart of peace which abides in the ETERNAL, that can
remain peaceful in the midst of storms, amid friends, amid enemies,
amid neutrals; only in the Peace of the ETERNAL may the human Spirit
find abiding rest. When that centre is found, when that knowledge of
God which is eternal life has been realised by man, then, and then
alone, can action be wisely taken, not swayed by passion, not moved by
prejudices, having nothing to gain which the outer world can give and
nothing to lose which that world can take away; asking for nothing,
desiring nothing, save to be an instrument of the Will that works for
Righteousness, seeing in the world around us the field of action where
God is working, and where we can be co-workers with God. There, and
there alone, can you work above the guṇas, using them for the Divine
purposes, but not permitting yourself to | 1,437.137269 |
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THE
ANALOGY OF RELIGION,
TO THE
Constitution and Course of | 1,437.13753 |
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Produced by Col. Choat. HTML version by Al Haines.
A Lady's Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852-53
by
Mrs Charles (Ellen) Clacy
CONTENTS
Chapter I. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
Chapter II. THE VOYAGE OUT
Chapter III. STAY IN MELBOURNE
Chapter IV. CAMPING UP--MELBOURNE TO THE BLACK FOREST
Chapter V. CAMPING UP--BLACK FOREST TO EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VI. THE DIGGINGS
Chapter VII. EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VIII. AN ADVENTURE
Chapter IX. HARRIETTE WALTERS
Chapter X. IRONBARK GULLY
Chapter XI. FOREST CREEK
Chapter XII. RETURN TO MELBOURNE
Chapter XIII. BALLARAT
Chapter XIV. NEW SOUTH WALES
Chapter XV. SOUTH AUSTRALIA
Chapter XVI. MELBOURNE AGAIN
Chapter XVII. HOMEWARD BOUND
Chapter XVIII. CONCLUSION
APPENDIX. WHO SHOULD EMIGRATE?
Chapter I.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
It may be deemed presumptuous that one of my age and sex should venture
to give to the public an account of personal adventures in a land which
has so often been descanted upon by other and abler pens; but when I
reflect on the many mothers, wives, and sisters in England, whose
hearts are ever longing for information respecting the dangers and
privations to which their relatives at the antipodes are exposed,
I cannot but hope that the presumption of my undertaking may be
pardoned in consideration of the pleasure which an accurate description
of some of the Australian Gold Fields may perhaps afford to many; and
although the time of my residence in the colonies was short, I had the
advantage (not only in Melbourne, but whilst in the bush) of constant
intercourse with many experienced diggers and old colonists--thus
having every facility for acquiring information respecting Victoria and
the other colonies.
It was in the beginning of April, 185-, that the excitement
occasioned by the published accounts of the Victoria "Diggings,"
induced my brother to fling aside his Homer and Euclid for the various
"Guides" printed for the benefit of the intending gold-seeker, or to
ponder over the shipping columns of the daily papers. The love of
adventure must be contagious, for three weeks after (so rapid were our
preparations) found myself accompanying him to those auriferous
regions. The following pages will give an accurate detail of my
adventures there--in a lack of the marvellous will consist their
principal faults but not even to please would I venture to turn
uninteresting truth into agreeable fiction. Of the few statistics which
occur, I may safely say, as of the more personal portions, that they
are strictly true.
Chapter II.
THE VOYAGE OUT
Everything was ready--boxes packed, tinned, and corded; farewells
taken, and ourselves whirling down by rail to Gravesend--too much
excited--too full of the future to experience that sickening of the
heart, that desolation of the feelings, which usually accompanies an
expatriation, however voluntary, from the dearly loved shores of one's
native land. Although in the cloudy month of April, the sun shone
brightly on the masts of our bonny bark, which lay in full sight of the
windows of the "Old Falcon," where we had taken up our temporary
quarters. The sea was very rough, but as we were anxious to get
on board without farther delay, we entrusted our valuable lives in a
four-oared boat, despite the dismal prognostications of our worthy
host. A pleasant row that was, at one moment covered over with
salt-water--the next riding on the top of a wave, ten times the size
of our frail conveyance--then came a sudden concussion--in veering
our rudder smashed into a smaller boat, which immediately filled and
sank, and our rowers disheartened at this mishap would go no farther.
The return was still rougher--my face smarted dreadfully from the
cutting splashes of the salt-water; they contrived, however, to land us
safely at the "Old Falcon," though in a most pitiable plight; charging
only a sovereign for this delightful trip--very moderate, considering
the number of salt-water baths they had given us gratis. In the evening
a second trial proved more successful, and we reached our vessel
safely.
A first night on board ship has in it something very strange, and the
first awakening in the morning is still more so. To find oneself in a
space of some six feet by eight, instead of a good-sized room, and
lying in a cot, scarce wide enough to turn round in, as a
substitute for a four-post bedstead, reminds you in no very agreeable
manner that you have exchanged the comforts of Old England for the
"roughing it" of a sea life. The first sound that awoke me was the
"cheerily" song of the sailors, as the anchor was heaved--not again,
we trusted, to be lowered till our eyes should rest on the waters of
Port Philip. And then the cry of "raise tacks and sheets" (which I, in
nautical ignorance, interpreted "hay-stacks and sheep") sent many a
sluggard from their berths to bid a last farewell to the banks of the
Thames.
In the afternoon we parted company with our steam-tug, and next
morning, whilst off the Isle of Wight, our pilot also took his
departure. Sea-sickness now became the fashion, but, as I cannot speak
from experience of its sensations, I shall altogether decline the
subject. On Friday, the 30th, we sighted Stark Point; and as the last
speck of English land faded away in the distance, an intense feeling of
misery crept over me, as I reflected that perchance I had left those
most dear to return to them no more. But I forget; a description of
private feelings is, to uninterested readers, only so much
twaddle, besides being more egotistical than even an account of
personal adventures could extenuate; so, with the exception of a few
extracts from my "log," I shall jump at once from the English Channel
to the more exciting shores of Victoria.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 5, lat. 45 degrees 57 minutes N., long. 11 degrees 45
minutes W.--Whilst off the Bay of Biscay, for the first time I had the
pleasure of seeing the phosphoric light in the water, and the effect was
indeed too beautiful to describe. I gazed again and again, and, as the
darkness above became more dense, the silence of evening more profound,
and the moving lights beneath more brilliant, I could have believed them
the eyes of the Undines, who had quitted their cool grottos beneath the
sea to gaze on the daring ones who were sailing above them. At times one
of these stars of the ocean would seem to linger around our vessel, as
though loth to leave the admiring eyes that watched its glittering
progress.* * * * *
SUNDAY, 9, lat. 37 degrees 53 minutes N., long. 15 degrees 32 minutes
W.--Great excitement throughout the ship. Early in the morning a
homeward-bound sail hove in sight, and as the sea was very calm, our
captain kindly promised to lower a boat and send letters by her. What a
scene then commenced; nothing but scribes and writing-desks met the view,
and nought was heard but the scratching of pens, and energetic demands for
foreign letter-paper, vestas, or sealing-wax; then came a rush on deck, to
witness the important packet delivered to the care of the first mate,
and watch the progress of the little bark that was to bear among so
many homes the glad tidings of our safety. On she came--her stunsails
set--her white sails glittering in the sun--skimming like a sea-bird
over the waters. She proved to be the Maltese schooner 'Felix,' bound
for Bremen. Her captain treated the visitors from our ship with the
greatest politeness, promised to consign our letters to the first pilot
he should encounter off the English coast, and sent his very last
oranges as a present to the ladies, for which we sincerely thanked him;
the increasing heat of the weather made them acceptable indeed.
WEDNESDAY, 12, lat. 33 degrees 19 minutes N., long. 17 degrees 30
minutes W.--At about noon we sighted Madeira. At first it appeared little
more than a dark cloud above the horizon; gradually the sides of the rocks
became clearly discernible, then the wind bore us onward, and soon all
traces of the sunny isle were gone.
FRIDAY, 28, lat. 4 degrees 2 minutes N., long | 1,437.140549 |
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THE GOLDEN MAIDEN and
other folk tales and fairy
stories told in Armenia
A. G. SEKLEMIAN
Introduction
Alice Stone Blackwell
Initial Letters
Ella Dolbear
Cover Design
Elizabeth Geary
The Helman-Taylor Company
Cleveland and New York
1898
INTRODUCTION.
A distinguished English student of folk-lore has written:
"Armenia offers a rich and hitherto almost untouched field to the
folk-lorist, the difficulty of grappling with the language--the
alphabet even of which was described by Byron as 'a very Waterloo of
an alphabet'--having hitherto baffled European collectors."
So far as I can learn, the two volumes of Armenian folk-tales collected
by Bishop Sirwantzdiants have hitherto been accessible to English
and European readers only through the medium of a rare and more or
less imperfect German translation. The late Ohannes Chatschumian | 1,440.739473 |
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MARGUERITE DE NAVARRE
MEMOIRS OF MARGUERITE DE VALOIS
MEMOIRS OF MARGUERITE DE VALOIS QUEEN OF NAVARRE
Being Historic Memoirs of the Courts of France and Navarre
BOOK III.
HISTORY OF THE HOUSE OF VALOIS.
[Author unknown]
CHARLES, COMTE DE VALOIS, was the younger brother of Philip the Fair, and
therefore uncle of the three sovereigns lately dead. His eldest son
Philip had been appointed guardian to the Queen of Charles IV.; and when
it appeared that she had given birth to a daughter, and not a son, the
barons, joining with the notables of Paris and the, good towns met to
decide who was by right the heir to the throne, "for the twelve peers of
France said and say that the Crown of France is of such noble estate that
by no succession can it come to a woman nor to a woman's son," as
Froissart tells us. This being their view, the baby daughter of Charles
IV. was at once set aside; and the claim of Edward III. of England, if,
indeed, he ever made it, rested on Isabella of France, his mother, sister
of the three sovereigns. And if succession through a female had been
possible, then the daughters of those three kings had rights to be
reserved. It was, however, clear that the throne must go to a man, and
the crown was given to Philip of Valois, founder of a new house of
sovereigns.
The new monarch was a very formidable person. He had been a great feudal
lord, hot and vehement, after feudal fashion; but he was now to show that
he could be a severe master, a terrible king. He began his reign by
subduing the revolted Flemings on behalf of his cousin Louis of Flanders,
and having replaced him in his dignities, returned to Paris and there
held high state as King. And he clearly was a great sovereign; the
weakness of the late King had not seriously injured France; the new King
was the elect of the great lords, and they believed that his would be a
new feudal monarchy; they were in the glow of their revenge over the
Flemings for the days of Courtrai; his cousins reigned in Hungary and
Naples, his sisters were married to the greatest of the lords; the Queen
of Navarre was his cousin; even the youthful King of England did him
homage for Guienne and Ponthieu. The barons soon found out their
mistake. Philip VI., supported by the lawyers, struck them whenever he
gave them opening; he also dealt harshly with the traders, hampering them
and all but ruining them, till the country was alarmed and discontented.
On the other hand, young Edward of England had succeeded to a troubled
inheritance, and at the beginning was far weaker than his rival; his own
sagacity, and the advance of constitutional rights in England, soon
enabled him to repair the breaches in his kingdom, and to gather fresh
strength from the prosperity and good-will of a united people. While
France followed a more restricted policy, England threw open her ports to
all comers; trade grew in London as it waned in Paris; by his marriage
with Philippa of Hainault, Edward secured a noble queen, and with her the
happiness of his subjects and the all-important friendship of the Low
Countries. In 1336 the followers of Philip VI. persuaded Louis of
Flanders to arrest the English merchants then in Flanders; whereupon
Edward retaliated by stopping the export of wool, and Jacquemart van
Arteveldt of Ghent, then at the beginning of his power, persuaded the
Flemish cities to throw off all allegiance to their French-loving Count,
and to place themselves under the protection of Edward. In return Philip
VI. put himself in communication with the Scots, the hereditary foes of
England, and the great wars which were destined to last 116 years, and to
exhaust the strength of two strong nations, were now about to begin. They
brought brilliant and barren triumphs to England, and, like most wars,
were a wasteful and terrible mistake, which, if crowned with ultimate
success, might, by removing the centre of the kingdom into France, have
marred the future welfare of England, for the happy constitutional
development of the country could never have taken place with a sovereign
living at Paris, and French interests becoming ever more powerful.
Fortunately, therefore, while the war evoked by its brilliant successes
the national pride of Englishmen, by its eventual failure it was
prevented from inflicting permanent damage on England.
The war began in 1337 and ended in 1453; the epochs in it are the Treaty
of Bretigny in 1360, the Treaty of Troyes in 1422, the final expulsion of
the English in 1453.
The French King seems to have believed himself equal to the burdens of a
great war, and able to carry out the most far-reaching plans. The Pope
was entirely in his hands, and useful as a humble instrument to curb and
harass the Emperor. Philip had proved himself master of the Flemish,
and, with help of the King of Scotland, hoped so to embarrass Edward III.
as to have no difficulty in eventually driving him to cede all his French
possessions. While he thought it his interest to wear out his antagonist
without any open fighting, it was Edward's interest to make vigorous and
striking war. France therefore stood on the defensive; England was
always the attacking party. On two sides, in Flanders and in Brittany,
France had outposts which, if well defended, might long keep the English
power away from her vitals. Unluckily for his side, Philip was harsh and
raw, and threw these advantages away. In Flanders the repressive
commercial policy of the Count, dictated from Paris, gave Edward the
opportunity, in the end of 1337, of sending the Earl of Derby, with a
strong fleet, to raise the blockade of Cadsand, and to open the Flemish
markets by a brilliant action, in which the French chivalry was found
powerless against the English yeoman-archers; and in 1338 Edward crossed
over to Antwerp to see what forward movement could be made. The other
frontier war was that of Brittany, which began a little later (1341). The
openings of the war were gloomy and wasteful, without glory. Edward did
not actually send defiance to Philip till 1339, when he proclaimed
himself King of France, and quartered the lilies of France on the royal
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LEGENDS & ROMANCES OF BRITTANY
[Illustration: GRAELENT AND THE FAIRY-WOMAN _Fr._]
LEGENDS & ROMANCES
OF BRITTANY
_BY_
LEWIS SPENCE F.R.A.I.
AUTHOR OF "HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE RHINE"
"A DICTIONARY OF MEDIEVAL ROMANCE AND ROMANCE WRITERS"
"THE MYTHS OF MEXICO AND PERU"
ETC. ETC.
_WITH THIRTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS BY_
W. OTWAY CANNELL A.R.C.A.(Lond.)
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
GREAT BRITAIN
PREFACE
Although the folk-tales and legends of Brittany have received
ample attention from native scholars and collectors, they have not as
yet been presented in a popular manner to English-speaking readers.
The probable reasons for what would appear to be an otherwise
incomprehensible omission on the part of those British writers who
make a popular use of legendary material are that many Breton
folk-tales strikingly resemble those of other countries, that from
a variety of considerations some of them are unsuitable for
presentation in an English dress, and that most of the folk-tales
proper certainly possess a strong family likeness to one another.
But it is not the folk-tale alone which goes to make up the
romantic literary output of a people; their ballads, the heroic
tales which they have woven around passages in their national
history, their legends (employing the term in its proper sense),
along with the more literary attempts of their romance-weavers,
their beliefs regarding the supernatural, the tales which cluster
around their ancient homes and castles--all of these, although
capable of separate classification, are akin to folk-lore, and I
have not, therefore, hesitated to use what in my discretion I
consider the best out of immense stores of material as being much
more suited to supply British readers with a comprehensive view of
Breton story. Thus, I have included chapters on the lore which
cleaves to the ancient stone monuments of the country, along with
some account of the monuments themselves. The Arthurian matter
especially connected with Brittany I have relegated to a separate
chapter, and I have considered it only fitting to include such of
the _lais_ of that rare and human songstress Marie de France as deal
with the Breton land. The legends of those sainted men to whom
Brittany owes so much will be found in a separate chapter, in
collecting the matter for which I have obtained the kindest
assistance from Miss Helen Macleod Scott, who has the preservation of
the Celtic spirit so much at heart. I have also included chapters on
the interesting theme of the black art in Brittany, as well as on
the several species of fays and demons which haunt its moors and
forests; nor will the heroic tales of its great warriors and
champions be found wanting. To assist the reader to obtain the
atmosphere of Brittany and in order that he may read these tales
without feeling that he is perusing matter relating to a race of
which he is otherwise ignorant, I have afforded him a slight
sketch of the Breton environment and historical development, and in
an attempt to lighten his passage through the volume I have here and
there told a tale in verse, sometimes translated, sometimes original.
As regards the folk-tales proper, by which I mean stories collected
from the peasantry, I have made a selection from the works of Gaidoz,
Sebillot, and Luzel. In no sense are these translations; they are
rather adaptations. The profound inequality between Breton folk-tales
is, of course, very marked in a collection of any magnitude, but as
this volume is not intended to be exhaustive I have had no difficulty
in selecting material of real interest. Most of these tales were
collected by Breton folk-lorists in the eighties of the last century,
and the native shrewdness and common sense which characterize much of
the editors' comments upon the stories so carefully gathered from
peasants and fishermen make them deeply interesting.
It is with a sense of shortcoming that I offer the reader this volume
on a great subject, but should it succeed in stimulating interest in
Breton story, and in directing students to a field in which their
research is certain to be richly rewarded, I shall not regret the
labour and time which I have devoted to my task.
L. S.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Land, the People and their Story 13
II Menhirs And Dolmens 37
III The Fairies of Brittany 54
IV Sprites And Demons of Brittany 96
V World-Tales in Brittany 106
VI Breton Folk-Tales 156
VII Popular Legends of Brittany 173
VIII Hero-Tales of Brittany 211
IX The Black Art and Its Ministers 241
X Arthurian Romance in Brittany 254
XI The Breton Lays of Marie De France 283
XII The Saints of Brittany 332
XIII Costumes and Customs of Brittany 372
Glossary and Index 392
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Graelent and the Fairy-Woman _Frontispiece_
Nomenoe 23
The Death of Marguerite in the Castle of Trogoff 34
Raising a Menhir 44
The Seigneur of Nann And the Korrigan 58
Merlin And Vivien 66
The Fairies of Broceliande Find the Little Bruno 72
Fairies in a Breton 'Houle' 81
The Poor Boy And the Three Fairy Damsels 88
The Demon-Dog 102
N'Oun Doare And the Princess Golden Bell 112
The Bride of Satan 144
Gwennolaik and Nola 170
The Devil in the Form of a Leopard appears before
the Alchemist 179
The Escape of King Gradlon from the Flooded City of
Ys | 1,440.939755 |
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
This is Volume 3 of a 3-volume set. The other two volumes are also
accessible in Project Gutenberg using
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48136 and
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48137.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
The
WORKS
Of
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, L.L.D.
VOL. 3.
[Illustration: (Stalker Sculptor.)]
PRINTED,
for Longman, Hurst, Rees & Orme, Paternoster Row, London.
THE
COMPLETE
WORKS,
IN
PHILOSOPHY, POLITICS, AND MORALS,
OF THE LATE
DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,
NOW FIRST COLLECTED AND ARRANGED:
WITH
MEMOIRS OF HIS EARLY LIFE,
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
London:
PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD;
AND LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1806.
JAMES CUNDEE, PRINTER,
LONDON.
CONTENTS.
VOL. III.
PAPERS ON AMERICAN SUBJECTS BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY
TROUBLES.
_Page._
Albany papers; containing, I. reasons and motives on which the
plan of union for the colonies was formed;--II. reasons against
partial unions;--III. and the plan of union drawn by B. F. and
unanimously agreed to by the commissioners from New Hampshire,
Massachusett's Bay, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Maryland,
and Pensylvania, met in congress at Albany, in July 1754, to consider
of the best means of defending the king's dominions in America,
&c. a war being then apprehended; with the reasons or
motives for each article of the plan 3
Albany papers continued. I. letter to Governor Shirley, concerning
the imposition of direct taxes upon the colonies, without their
consent 30
II. Letter to the same; concerning direct taxes in the colonies imposed
without consent, indirect taxes, and the Albany plan of
union 31
III. Letter to the same, on the subject of uniting the colonies more
intimately with Great Britain, by allowing them representatives
in parliament 37
Plan for settling two Western colonies in North America, with reasons
for the plan, 1754 41
Report of the committee of aggrievances of the assembly of Pensylvania,
dated Feb. 22, 1757 50
An historical review of the constitution and government of Pensylvania,
from its origin; so far as regards the several points of controversy
which have, from time to time, arisen between the several
governors of that province, and their several assemblies. Founded
on authentic documents 59
The interest of Great Britain considered, with regard to her colonies,
and the acquisitions of Canada and Guadaloupe 89
Remarks and facts relative to the American paper-money 144
To the freemen of Pensylvania, on the subject of a particular
militia-bill, rejected by the proprietor's deputy or governor 157
Preface by a member of the Pensylvanian assembly (Dr. Franklin)
to the speech of Joseph Galloway, Esq. one of the members for
Philadelphia county; in answer to the speech of John Dickinson,
Esq. delivered in the house of the assembly of the province of
Pensylvania, May 24, 1764, on occasion of a petition drawn up
by order, and then under the consideration of the house, praying
his majesty for a royal, in lieu of a proprietary government 163
Remarks on a late protest against the appointment of Mr. Franklin
as agent for this province (of Pensylvania) 203
Remarks on a plan for the future management of Indian affairs 216
PAPERS ON AMERICAN SUBJECTS DURING THE REVOLUTIONARY
TROUBLES.
Causes of the American discontents before 1768 225
Letter concerning the gratitude of America, and the probability and
effects of an union with Great Britain; and concerning the repeal
or suspension of the stamp act 239
Letter from Governor Pownall to Dr. Franklin, concerning an equal
communication of rights, privileges, &c. to America by Great
Britain 243
Minutes to the foregoing, by Dr. Franklin 244
The examination of Dr. Franklin before the English house of commons,
in February, 1766, relative to the repeal of the American
stamp act 245
Attempts of Dr. Franklin for conciliation of Great Britain with the
colonies 286
Queries from Mr. Strahan 287
Answer to the preceding queries 290
State of the constitution of the colonies, by Governor Pownall; with
remarks by Dr. Franklin 299
Concerning the dissentions between England and America 310
A Prussian edict, assuming claims over Britain 311
Preface by the British editor (Dr. Franklin) to "The votes and
proceedings of the freeholders, and other inhabitants of the town
of Boston, in town-meeting assembled according to law (published
by order of the town), &c." 317
Account of governor Hutchinson's letters 322
Rules for reducing a great empire to a small one, presented to a late
minister, when he entered upon his administration 334
State of America on Dr. Franklin's arrival there 346
Proposed vindication and offer from congress to parliament, in
1775 347
Reprobation of Mr. Strahan's parliamentary conduct 354
Conciliation hopeless from the conduct of Great Britain to
America 355
Account of the first campaign made by the British forces in
America 357
Probability of a separation 358
Letter to Monsieur Dumas, urging him to sound the several courts
of Europe, by means of their ambassadors at the Hague, as to any
assistance they may be disposed to afford America in her struggle
for independence 360
Letter from Lord Howe to Dr. Franklin 365
Dr. Franklin's answer to Lord Howe 367
Comparison of Great Britain and America as to credit, in 1777 372
PAPERS, DESCRIPTIVE OF AMERICA, OR RELATING TO THAT
COUNTRY, WRITTEN SUBSEQUENT TO THE REVOLUTION.
Remarks concerning the savages of North America 383
The internal state of America; being a true description of the interest
and policy of that vast continent 391
Information to those who would remove to America 398
Concerning new settlements in America 409
A comparison of the conduct of the ancient Jews, and of the
Antifederalists in the United States of America 410
Final speech of Dr. Franklin in the late federal convention 416
PAPERS ON MORAL SUBJECTS AND THE ECONOMY OF LIFE.
The busy-body 421
The way to wealth, as clearly shown in the preface of an old Pensylvania
almanack, intitled, Poor Richard Improved 453
Advice to a young tradesman 463
Necessary hints to those that would be rich 466
The way to make money plenty in every man's pocket 467
New mode of lending money 468
An economical project 469
On early marriages 475
Effect of early impressions on the mind 478
The whistle 480
A petition to those who have the superintendency of education 483
The handsome and deformed leg 485
Morals of chess 488
The art of procuring pleasant dreams 493
Dialogue between Franklin and the gout 499
On the death of relatives 507
The ephemera an emblem of human life 508
APPENDIX, NO. I.--CONTAINING PAPERS PROPER FOR INSERTION,
BUT OMITTED IN THE PRECEDING VOLUMES.
Letter to Sir Hans Sloane 513
Letter to Michael Collinson, Esq. 514
Letter respecting captain Cook 515
An address to the public, from the Pensylvania society for promoting
the abolition of slavery, and the relief of free <DW64>s, unlawfully
held in bondage 517
Plan for improving the condition of the free blacks 519
Paper: a poem 523
Plain truth; or, serious considerations on the present state of the
city of Philadelphia, and province of Pensylvania 524
Four letters to Mr. Whetley 543*
APPENDIX, NO. II.--CONTAINING LETTERS BY SEVERAL
EMINENT PERSONS, ILLUSTRATIVE OF DR. FRANKLIN'S
MANNERS AND CHARACTER.
Letter from the late Dr. Price to a gentleman in America 543
Letter from Mr. Thomas Jefferson to the late Dr. William Smith, of
Philadelphia 545
Letter from the late Dr. Joseph Priestly 547
_ERRATA._
_Page._ _Line._
24 8 from the bottom: for DAY, read LAY.
39 6, for iuppose, read suppose.
60 5 from the bottom: for Cruger, read Stuber.
449 7 from the bottom: for PLEIADS, read PLEIADES.
PAPERS
ON
AMERICAN SUBJECTS
BEFORE THE
_REVOLUTIONARY TROUBLES_.
[_The papers under the present head, of American Politics before the
Troubles, in the volume of Dr. Franklin's works, printed for Johnson
in 1799, from which they are nearly all taken, were divided into
two parts, as if distinct from each other, viz. Papers on American
Subjects before the Troubles; and Papers on Subjects of Provincial
Politics. As we can see no grounds for this distinction, we have
brought them together, and have placed them in the order of their
dates, conceiving such to be the natural order of papers furnishing
materials for history._]
PAPERS
ON
AMERICAN SUBJECTS,
BEFORE THE
_REVOLUTIONARY TROUBLES_.
ALBANY PAPERS.
_Containing_, I. _Reasons and Motives on which the_ PLAN _of_
UNION _for the_ COLONIES _was formed_;--II. _Reasons against
partial Unions_;--III. _And the Plan of Union drawn by B. F. and
unanimously agreed to by the Commissioners from New Hampshire,
Massachusett's Bay, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Maryland, and
Pensylvania[1], met in Congress at Albany, in July 1754, to
consider of the best Means of defending the King's Dominions in
America, &c. a War being then apprehended; with the Reasons or
Motives for each Article of the Plan._
B. F. was one of the four commissioners from Pensylvania[2].
I. _Reasons and Motives on which the Plan | 1,441.237535 |
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by the BibliothA"que nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at
http://gallica.bnf.fr)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Words that were printed in italics are marked with _ _. Printing and
spelling errors have been corrected. A list of these corrections can be
found at the end of the document. The original text uses diacritical
marks that cannot be displayed in this text. These characters have been
replaced by the unmarked letter.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION----BUREAU OF ETHNOLOGY.
MYTHS
OF
THE IROQUOIS.
BY
ERMINNIE A. SMITH.
CONTENTS.
Page.
CHAPTER I.--GODS AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL BEINGS 51
Hi-nun destroying the giant animals 54
A Seneca legend of Hi-nun and Niagara 54
The Thunderers 55
Echo God 58
Extermination of the Stone Giants 59
The North Wind 59
Great Head 59
Cusick's story of the dispersion of the Great Heads 62
The Stone Giant's wife 62
The Stone Giant's challenge 63
Hiawatha and the Iroquois wampum 64
CHAPTER II.--PIGMIES 65
The warrior saved by pigmies 65
The pigmies and the greedy hunters 66
The pigmy's mission 67
CHAPTER III.--PRACTICE OF SORCERY 68
The origin of witches and witch charms 69
Origin of the Seneca medicine 70
A "true" witch story 71
A case of witchcraft 72
An incantation to bring rain 72
A cure for all bodily injuries 73
A witch in the shape of a dog 73
A man who assumed the shape of a hog 73
Witch transformations 74
A superstition about flies 74
CHAPTER IV.--MYTHOLOGIC EXPLANATION OF PHENOMENA 75
Origin of the human race 76
Formation of the Turtle Clan 77
How the bear lost his tail 77
Origin of medicine 78
Origin of wampum 78
Origin of tobacco 79
Origin of plumage 79
Why the chipmunk has the black stripe on his back 80
Origin of the constellations 80
The Pole Star 81
CHAPTER V.--TALES 83
Boy rescued by a bear 83
Infant nursed by bears 84
The man and his step-son 85
The boy and his grandmother 86
The dead hunter 87
A hunter's adventures 88
The old man's lesson to his nephew 89
The hunter and his faithless wife 90
The charmed suit 92
The boy and the corn 96
The lad and the chestnuts 97
The guilty hunters 99
Mrs. Logan's story 100
The hunter and his dead wife 103
A sure revenge 104
Traveler's jokes 107
Kingfisher and his nephew 108
The wild-cat and the white rabbit 110
CHAPTER VI.--RELIGION 112
New Year's festival 112
Tapping the maple trees 115
Planting corn 115
Strawberry festival 115
Green-corn festival 115
Gathering the corn 115
_ILLUSTRATIONS._
PLATE XII.--Returning thanks to the Great Spirit 52
XIII.--Stone giant or cannibal 56
XIV.--Atotarho, war chief 60
XV.--The Flying Head put to flight 64
MYTHS OF THE IROQUOIS.
BY ERMINNIE A. SMITH.
CHAPTER I.
GODS AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL BEINGS.
The principal monuments of the once powerful Iroquois are their myths
and folk-lore, with the language in which they are embodied. As these
monuments are fast crumbling away, through their contact with European
civilization, the ethnologist must hasten his search among them in order
to trace the history of their laws of mind and the records of their
customs, ideas, laws, and beliefs. Most of these have been long
forgotten by the people, who continue to repeat traditions as they have
been handed down through their fathers and fathers' fathers, from
generation to generation, for many centuries.
The pagan Iroquois of to-day (and there are still many) will tell you
that his ancestors worshiped, as he continues to do, the "Great Spirit,"
and, like himself, held feasts and dances in his honor; but a careful
study of the mythology of these tribes proves very clearly that in the
place of one prevailing great spirit (the Indian's earliest conception
of the white man's God) the Iroquois gods were numerous. All the
mysterious in nature, all that which inspired them with reverence, awe,
terror, or gratitude, became deities, or beings like themselves endowed
with supernatural attributes, beings whose vengeance must be
propitiated, mercy implored, or goodness recompensed by thank-offerings.
The latter were in the form of feasts, dances, or incense.
Among the most ancient of these deities, and regarding which the
traditions are the most obscure, were their most remote
ancestors--certain animals who later were transformed into human shape,
the names of the animals being preserved by their descendants, who have
used them to designate their gentes or clans.
Many races in that particular stage of savagery when the human intellect
is still in its child-like state, being impressed by the awful and
incomprehensible power of Thunder, have classed it foremost among their
deities, with attributes proportioned to the disposition or status of
the worshiper.
Hi-nun, the beneficent Thunder God of the Iroquois, compares most
favorably with the same god as worshiped by other races. Ever
accompanied by his equally powerful assistants, his mission was
understood to be only to promote the welfare of that favored people,
though isolated personal offenses might demand from him a just
retribution. It was therefore safe to make unto him, on his near
approach to earth, his most acceptable offering, the burning tobacco,
and so firmly rooted has become that ancient custom, that the aged
superstitious Iroquois of to-day can often be seen making this little
offering on the near approach of every thunder-storm. It is not
difficult to follow the crude reasoning by which was ascribed to
Hi-nun the goodness and glory of having destroyed the giant monsters
which either poisoned the waters or infested the land. That such had
existed was evident from the bones often discovered, and what power
other than the crashing bolt of Hi-nun could have accomplished their
destruction? The similarity discoverable in the myths of many peoples
regarding the Thunder God and his mission of destruction to giant
animals, making this an almost universal myth, is probably traceable to
this simple and natural explanation, and presents no argument that the
myth itself has traveled. It may, then, be safely assumed that Hi-nun
was an indigenous god of the Iroquois, the product of their own crude
reasoning powers.
Brother of the great Hi-nun was the West Wind, who, with him, brought
from the clouds the vivifying rain, and who finally assisted the
| 1,441.240748 |
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The Story of a Baby
[Decoration: NAVTILVS SERIES]
[Illustration: "'He is exactly twenty-one pounds,' she said."]
THE STORY OF A BABY
BY ETHEL TURNER
[Decoration: The Navtilvs Series]
WARD LOCK & BOWDEN: LIMITED
LONDON · NEW YORK & MELBOURNE
1896
TO THE BEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD
E. T., _Sydney_.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE BURDEN OF IT 1
II. THE RED ROAD COUNTRY 11
III. DOT AND LARRIE FALL OUT 21
IV. THE 'LITTLE MOTHER' 33
V. MORE RIFTS IN THE LUTE 45
VI. LARRIE THE LOAFER 58
VII. A POCKET MADAME MELBA 73
VIII. PICTURES IN THE FIRE 83
IX. A CONFLICT OF WILLS 97
X. A DARN ON A DRESS 111
XI. A QUESTION OF OWNERSHIP 124
XII. A LITTLE DIPLOMAT 131
XIII. DOT GOES BABY LIFTING 140
XIV. THE WHEEL IN THE BRAIN 147
XV. SULLIVAN WOOSTER, GENTLEMAN 154
THE STORY OF A BABY
CHAPTER I
THE BURDEN OF IT
Larrie had been carrying it for a long way and said it was quite time
Dot took her turn.
Dot was arguing the point.
She reminded him of all athletic sports he had taken part in, and of
all the prizes he had won; she asked him what was the use of being
six-foot-two and an impossible number of inches round the chest if he
could not carry a baby.
Larrie gave her an unexpected glance and moved the baby to his other
arm; he was heated and unhappy, there seemed absolutely no end to the
red, red road they were traversing, and Dot, as well as refusing to
help to carry the burden, laughed aggravatingly at him when he said it
was heavy.
'He is exactly twenty-one pounds,' she said, 'I weighed him on the
kitchen scales yesterday, I should think a man of your size ought to
be able to carry twenty-one pounds without grumbling so.'
'But he's on springs, Dot,' he said, 'just look at him, he's never
still for a minute, you carry him to the beginning of Lee's orchard,
and then I'll take him again.'
Dot shook her head.
'I'm very sorry, Larrie,' she said, 'but I really can't. You know I
didn't want to bring the child, and when you insisted, I said to myself,
you should carry him every inch of the way, just for your obstinacy.'
'But you're his mother,' objected Larrie.
He was getting seriously angry, his arms ached unutterably, his clothes
were sticking to his back, and twice the baby had poked a little fat
thumb in his eye and made it water.
'But you're its father,' Dot said sweetly.
'It's easier for a woman to carry a child than a man'--poor Larrie was
mopping his hot brow with his disengaged hand--'everyone says so; don't
be a little sneak, Dot, my arm's getting awfully cramped; here, for
pity's sake take him.'
Dot shook her head again.
'Would you have me break my vow, St Lawrence?' she said.
She looked provokingly cool and unruffled as she walked along by his
side; her gown was white, with transparent puffy sleeves, her hat was
white and very large, she had little white canvas shoes, long white
Suéde gloves, and she carried a white parasol.
'I'm hanged,' said Larrie, and he stopped short in the middle of the
road, 'look here, my good woman, are you going to take your baby, or
are you not?'
Dot revolved her sunshade round her little sweet face.
'No, my good man,' she said, 'I don't propose to carry your baby one
step.'
'Then I shall drop it,' said Larrie. He held it up in a threatening
position by the back of its crumpled coat, but Dot had gone sailing on.
'Find a soft place,' she called, looking back over her shoulder once
and seeing him still standing in the road.
'Little minx,' he said under his breath.
Then his mouth squared itself; ordinarily it was a pleasant mouth, much
given to laughter and merry words; but when it took that obstinate look,
one could see capabilities for all manner of things.
He looked carefully around. By the roadside there was a patch of soft,
green grass, and a wattle bush, yellow-crowned, beautiful. He laid the
child down in the shade of it, he looked to see there were no ants or
other insects near; he put on the bootee that was hanging by a string
from the little rosy foot and he stuck the india-rubber comforter in
its mouth. Then he walked quietly away and caught up to Dot.
'Well?' she said, but she looked a little startled at his empty arms;
she drooped the sunshade over the shoulder nearest to him, and gave a
hasty, surreptitious glance backward. Larrie strode along.
'You look fearfully ugly when you screw up your mouth like that,' she
said, looking up at his set side face.
'You're an unnatural mother, Dot, that's what you are,' he returned
hotly. 'By Jove, if I was a woman, I'd be ashamed to act as you do. You
get worse every day you live. I've kept excusing you to myself, and
saying you would get wiser as you grew older, and instead, you seem
more childish every day.'
She looked childish. She was very, very small in stature, very slightly
and delicately built. Her hair was in soft gold-brown curls, as short
as a boy's; her eyes were soft, and wide, and tender, and beautiful as
a child's. When she was happy they were the colour of that blue, deep
violet we call the Czar, and when she grew thoughtful, or sorrowful,
they were like the heart of a great, dark purple <DW29>. She was not
particularly beautiful, only very fresh, and sweet, and lovable. Larrie
once said she always looked like a baby that has been freshly bathed
and dressed, and puffed with sweet violet powder, and sent out into the
world to refresh tired eyes.
That was one of his courtship sayings, more than a year ago when she was
barely seventeen. She was eighteen now, and he was telling her she was
an unnatural mother.
'Why, the child wouldn't have had its bib on, only I saw to it,' he
said, in a voice that increased in excitement as he dwelt on the
enormity.
'Dear me,' said Dot, 'that was very careless of Peggie, I must really
speak to her about it.'
'I shall shake you some day, Dot,' Larrie said,'shake you till your
teeth rattle. Sometimes I can hardly keep my hands off you.'
His brow was gloomy, his boyish face troubled, vexed.
And Dot laughed. Leaned against the fence skirting the road that seemed
to run to eternity, and laughed outrageously.
Larrie stopped too. His face was very white and square-looking, his dark
eyes held fire. He put his hands on the white, exaggerated shoulders of
her muslin dress and turned her round.
'Go back to the bottom of the hill this instant, and pick up the child
and carry it up here,' he said.
'Go and insert your foolish old head in a receptacle for
_pommes-de-terre_,' was Dot's flippant retort.
Larrie's hands pressed harder, his chin grew squarer.
'I'm in earnest, Dot, deadly earnest. I order you to fetch the child,
and I intend you to obey me,' he gave her a little shake to enforce the
command. 'I am your master, and I intend you to know it from this day.'
Dot experienced a vague feeling of surprise at the fire in the eyes that
were nearly always clear, and smiling, and loving, then she twisted
herself away.
'Pooh,' she said, 'you're only a stupid overgrown, passionate boy,
Larrie. You my master! You're nothing in the world but my husband.'
'Are you going?' he said in a tone he had never used before to her. 'Say
Yes or No, Dot, instantly.'
'No,' said Dot, stormily.
Then they both gave a sob of terror, their faces blanched, and they
began to run madly down the hill.
Oh the long, long way they had come, the endless stretch of red, red
road that wound back to the gold-tipped wattles, the velvet grass, and
their baby!
Larrie was a fleet, wonderful runner. In the little cottage where they
lived, manifold silver cups and mugs bore witness to it, and he was
running for life now, but Dot nearly outstripped him.
She flew over the ground, hardly touching it, her arms were
outstretched, her lips moving. They fell down together on their knees by
their baby, just as three furious, hard-driven bullocks thundered by,
filling the air with dust and bellowing.
The baby was blinking happily up at a great fat golden beetle that was
making a lazy way up the wattle. It had lost its 'comforter' and was
sucking its thumb thoughtfully. It had kicked off its white knitted
boots, and was curling its pink toes up in the sunshine with great
enjoyment.
'Baby!' Larrie said. The big fellow was trembling in every limb.
'_Baby!_' said Dot. She gathered it up in her little shaking arms, she
put her poor white face down upon it, and broke into such pitiful tears
and sobs that it wept too. Larrie took them both into his arms, and sat
down on a fallen tree. He soothed them, he called them a thousand
tender, beautiful names; he took off Dot's hat and stroked her little
curls, he kissed his baby again and again; he kissed his wife. When they
were all quite calm and the bullocks ten miles away, they started again.
'I'll carry him,' said Larrie.
'Ah no, let me,' Dot said.
'Darling, you're too tired--see, you can hold his hand across my
shoulder.'
'No, no, give him to me--my arms ache | 1,441.542171 |
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CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STORY
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth, is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
SHAKESPEARE.
CHRISTMAS
IN
LEGEND AND STORY
A BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
COMPILED BY
ELVA S. SMITH
CARNEGIE LIBRARY
PITTSBURGH
AND
ALICE I. HAZELTINE
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ST. LOUIS
ILLUSTRATED
FROM
FAMOUS PAINTINGS
1915
CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STORY
PREFACE
In our experience in library work with children we have learned that it is
very difficult to find Christmas stories and legends which have literary
merit, are reverent in spirit, and are also suitable for children. This
collection has been made in an endeavor to meet this need, and thus to be
of service to parents, teachers | 1,441.542323 |
2023-11-16 18:41:05.6187600 | 4,744 | 46 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Moti Ben-Ari and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: Cover]
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
JOHN EVELYN
THE HISTORY
OF
SABATAI SEVI,
_The Suppos'd Messiah_
OF THE JEWS.
(1669)
_Introduction by_
CHRISTOPHER W. GROSE
PUBLICATION NUMBER 131
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
1968
GENERAL EDITORS
George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
ADVISORY EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
Earl Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Lawrence Clark Powell, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
James Sutherland, _University College, London_
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
_And you should if you please refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews._
The reader of John Evelyn's _History of Sabatai Sevi, The Pretended
Messiah of the Jewes_ or of the _History of the Three Late Famous
Impostors_ (1669) in which it is the most significant part, discovers a
fascinating, if unoriginal, addition to the work of the great diarist
and dilettante, the amateur student of engraving and trees--and smoke.
Evelyn's work was almost totally derived from the account of Sir Paul
Rycaut, who was from 1661 secretary (and later consul) for the Levant
mercantile company in Smyrna. Rycaut was in fact responsible for what
first-hand reporting there is in the _History_, and Evelyn's book
preceded by only eleven years Rycaut's _History of the Turkish Empire
1623-1677_, where the story first appeared under the author's own name.
What gives Evelyn's _Pretended Messiah_ its own interest is partly the
immediacy of the news of Sabatai Sevi, and partly the context in which
Evelyn places the story, a context to some extent indicated in the
title, _History of the Three Late Famous Impostors_. When the work was
published in 1669, Sevi was neither the amusing curiosity he is likely
to be for the modern reader, nor the impertinent confidence man
suggested by Evelyn's "impostor." Evelyn was reviewing for an English
audience one of the great crises in Jewish history, the career of the
man who has been called Judaism's "most notorious messianic
claimant."[1] That career was not entirely past history in 1669. Sevi
lived until 1675, and even after his humiliation and final banishment in
1673 he could write to his father-in-law in Salonica that men would see
in his lifetime the day of redemption and the return of the Jews to
Zion; "For God hath appointed me Lord of all Mizrayim."[2] Indeed, a
remnant of Judaeo-Turkish Shabbethaians called Doenmehs apparently
exists in Salonica to the present day.
Whatever the appeal of Sevi's story may be for modern readers--as a mode
of fiction, perhaps, or an instance of mass hysteria--Evelyn's discovery
of an exemplum for religious and political enthusiasts may seem forced
or reductive. In 1669, however, the interest of Englishmen in Jewish
affairs was by no means merely academic--or narrowly commercial. There
were, it is true, English sportsmen in 1666 who were actually betting on
the Sevi career--ten to one that the "Messiah of Ismir" would be crowned
King of Jerusalem within two years. And what was most disturbing about
Sevi to the English nation as a whole was perhaps the disruption of
trade, in which Sevi's father was intimately involved, as the agent of
an English mercantile house. At the height of the furor, Jewish
merchants were dissolving businesses as well as unroofing their houses
in preparation for the return to Jerusalem. But the prime significance
for Evelyn--perhaps more than for Rycaut--is revealed in the instinctive
mental connection between Jewish and Christian history, or ways of
thinking about history, on the one hand, and political realities in
England on the other. Only nine years had passed since the return of
Charles II and the displacement of the Protectorate, with its remarkable
Jewish elements. As for the return of the Christian Messiah and an
imminent reign of the saints, Sevi might well have reminded Evelyn of
the English "impostor," the Quaker Jacob Naylor, whose messianic claims
were publicly examined at Bristol in 1657. Far more important to
Englishmen of the period, however, was the episode involving the mission
of the Amsterdam rabbi Menasseh ben Israel to Cromwell's England in
1655, a year after Naylor's first appearance.
For two centuries after their expulsion from England by Edward I--that
is, until the seventeenth century--Jews either avoided England entirely
or lived there in deliberate obscurity. Some Spanish and Portuguese
Jewish refugees from the Inquisition did arrive in England; but
particularly after the execution for treason of Elizabeth's physician
Roderigo Lopez in 1594, they could remain only as "Crypto-Jews." It was
during the Puritan regime that the Jewish position in England really
improved, and the removal of the legal bar dates from the conference
summoned by Cromwell in response to the demands of Menasseh.[3] The
interest in Rabbinical literature displayed by learned men like Joseph
Scaliger, Johann Buxtorf, Hugo Grotius, and John Selden, together with a
general Old Testament emphasis in Protestant scriptural study, made
Judaism a more fashionable interest than it had been in previous years.
Cromwell's own encouragement of Menasseh is usually viewed as an
expression of his tolerationist principles and the hope that the return
of Jews to England would aid in extending trade with Spain and Portugal,
and even with the Levant. An additional facet of his general reception
of Menasseh is relevant to Evelyn's _Pretended Messiah_. A chief
argument in _The Humble Address of Menasseh ben Israel_ (November 5,
1655) was the Amsterdam rabbi's belief that since England was the only
country rejecting the Jews, their readmittance would be the signal for
the coming of the Messiah. Fifth-Monarchy enthusiasts recalled the
prophecies of _Daniel_ and _Revelations_ and linked them with the
relatively immediate experience of the Thirty Years' War; motives of
mercantile jealousy were to some extent offset by millenarian anxiety.
Indeed, the possibility of an imminent millennial reign of the saints
could be the strongest kind of argument for showing favor to the Jews.
Cromwell all but proselytized at the meetings of the conference;
ultimately, because of the opposition of commercial interests, he was
forced to dissolve it.
We can perhaps best understand Evelyn's account of Sabatai Sevi, "the
Messiah of Ismir," against this background of English Protestant
millennial thinking, admirably summarized in Michael Fixler's recent
study.[4] As Fixler suggests, it was possibly to discredit the
Fifth-Monarchy men that Rycaut first included the account in what was to
become his _History of the Turkish Empire_. At any rate, Sevi himself
was hardly the mere con-man Rycaut and Evelyn portray; the mask, indeed,
is _erepta_ only with the greatest of difficulty. Because Rycaut was
interested in trade and cultural _mores_, his (and consequently,
Evelyn's) account neglects features of the story which are of primary
interest to more psychologically inclined readers. We are told almost
nothing, for example, of the details of Sevi's solitary youth; his
physical attractiveness; his clear voice as well suited to lascivious
Spanish love-songs (interpreted mystically) as to Psalms; and his early
rejection of the Talmud for the practical Cabala, with its strenuous,
self-mortifying asceticism. One would gather from Evelyn that only the
deluded followers of the "impostor" and not Sevi himself imposed such
punishments as self-burial, and bathing in the sea, even in midwinter.
More surprising, perhaps, is the almost total neglect of Sarah, Sevi's
third wife, mentioned in the _Pretended Messiah_ only as the "Ligornese
Lady" whom Sevi acquired after freeing himself "from the Incumbrances of
a Family." In fact, the beautiful and engaging Sarah seems to have
become an integral part of the movement, a movement which in its early
stages was all-male. A prostitute notorious in her own right, primarily
for her claims to be the destined bride of the Messiah, Sarah apparently
escaped miraculously from a Christian convent after being cared for as
an orphan of the savage Chmielnicki massacres in Poland. As he was later
to do with a more formidable rival to his exclusive claims (Nehemiah
ha-Kohen, who ultimately exposed him as a fraud) Sevi called Sarah to
Cairo in 1664, claiming to have dreamed of her as _his_ future bride.
Eventually, after his "conversion," she followed him even into the
Turkish seraglio where he bore the title Mahmed Effendi.
Other details are missing from Evelyn's _Pretended Messiah_; the
interested reader may pursue the strange tale in Graetz's _History of
the Jews_ or the partly fictionalized biography by Joseph Kastein, _The
Messiah of Ismir_.[5] We may note in passing one additional incident.
After his first banishment from Smyrna (as a result of pronouncing the
sacred tetragrammaton in Hebrew), Sevi met the mystic Abraham ha-Yakini,
who subsequently forged in archaic characters and style a document
entitled "The Great Wisdom of Solomon"--a document accepted by Sevi as
an authentic "archeological" revelation. The event was shortly followed
by a bizarre celebration of Sevi's marriage as the Son of God ("En Sof")
with the Torah, and may have provided climactic metaphysical
confirmation of Sevi's hopes. In the manner of the old apocalypses, it
pronounced Sevi the "saviour of My people, Israel," one who in time
"shall overthrow the great dragon and kill the serpent."[6]
Good as Evelyn's _Pretended Messiah_ may have been for contemporaries
as a review of recent "news," and we must not underestimate this
function, to the modern reader it seems closer to fiction, of a
peculiarly propagandistic and ironic kind. Aside from omissions from the
story--partly a matter of ignorance or failure in perception, and partly
deliberate exclusion of inconvenient material--Evelyn's enthusiastic
acceptance of his source's frequent theatrical metaphors is one measure
of the distance from history of the _Pretended Messiah_. When Evelyn's
Sevi is grave, it is a "formal and pharisaical gravitie" which is
"starcht on." His motives in general seem highly conscious, even
deliberate; and despite a certain doubleness in the point of view of the
_Pretended Messiah_, the reason for Sevi's comic simplicity is not
difficult to discover. Sir Paul Rycaut, as I have suggested, seems
primarily interested in the effects of the movement on trade. The most
vehement thinking of the book, though ascribed to an unnamed opponent of
Sevi, could well be that of Rycaut himself:
[The opponent observed] in what a wilde manner the whole People
of the Jewes was transported, with the groundless beliefe of a
_Messiah_, leaving not onely their Trade, and course of living,
but publishing Prophesies of a speedy Kingdome, of rescue from
the Tyranny of the Turk, and leading the Grand Signior himself
Captive in Chaines; matters so dangerous and obnoxious to the
State wherein they lived, as might justly convict them of
Treason and Rebellion, and leave them to the Mercy of that
Justice, which on the least jealousie and suspicion of Matters
of this nature uses to extirpate Families, and subvert the
Mansion-houses of their own People, much rather of the Jewes, on
whom the Turkes would gladly take occasion to dispoile them of
their Estates, and condemn the whole Nation to perpetual
slavery.
(pp. 78-79)
Evelyn retains this and similar material, apparently never suspecting
that the Turks may well have been hesitant from real fear; but the
burden of his emphasis is more overtly political and religious. Evelyn
is less than ingenuous, perhaps, in associating Sevi with Peter Serini's
fake brother, or even with Mahomed Bei--another of the "late famous
impostors." But the connection does have the effect of putting Sevi in
an imaginary world where all masks will be discovered and the truth
known. Ultimately, Evelyn's Jews, like Dryden's and Milton's, are
English--"_our_ modern Enthusiasts and other prodigious Sects amongst
us, who Dreame of the like Carnal Expectations, and a Temporal Monarchy"
(sig. A8; italics mine). One hardly needs to fill out the reading. With
a traditional reminder that "the Time is not yet Accomplished," Evelyn
warns English sectarians to beware of misleading fictions--"to weigh how
nearly their Characters approach the Style and Design of those deluded
wretches."
Evelyn's words here suggest something of the wider interest of the
_Pretended Messiah_. For in threatening the modern enthusiasts, as it
were, with the status of comic fiction, he also hinted at the literal
immediacy of such explicitly imaginative works as _Absalom and
Achitophel_, _Paradise Regained_, and _Samson Agonistes_. What Evelyn's
_Pretended Messiah_ helps to reveal, then, is not only the potential
metaphoric value of news itself, but also the peculiar proximity of
poetry to "history" in a period when historical thought was inseparable
from apocalyptic myth.[7]
University of California,
Los Angeles
NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
[1] Michael Fixler, _Milton and the Kingdoms of God_ (London, 1964), p.
244.
[2] Joseph Kastein, _The Messiah of Ismir_, trans. Huntley Paterson (New
York, 1931), p. 323.
[3] For an account of the events leading to the extra-judicial opinion
of Glyn and Steele, see Samuel R. Gardiner, _History of the Commonwealth
and Protectorate, 1649-1660_, III (London, 1901), 216-222.
[4] _Milton and the Kingdoms of God_ (London, 1964), especially pp.
237-249.
[5] Heinrich Graetz, _History of the Jews_, V (Philadelphia, 1895),
118-167. See also Henry Malter, "Shabetai Zebi B. Mordecai," _The Jewish
Encyclopedia_, X (1905).
[6] Kastein, p. 77.
[7] For a provocative study of apocalypse in fiction, see Frank Kermode,
_The Sense of An Ending_ (Oxford, 1966).
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The text of this edition is reproduced from a copy in the William
Andrews Clark Memorial Library.
THE
HISTORY
Of the THREE late famous
IMPOSTORS,
{_Padre Ottomano_,
viz. {_Mahomed Bei_, and
{_Sabatai Sevi_.
The _One_, pretended _Son_ and _Heir_
to the late _Grand Signior_;
The _Other_, a _Prince_ of the _Ottoman_ Family,
but in _truth_, a _Valachian Counterfeit_.
And the Last,
The Suppos'd _MESSIAH_ of the _Jews_,
in the _Year_ of the true _Messiah_, 1666.
With a brief _Account_ of the _Ground_, and _Occasion_
of the present _War_ between the
_TURK_ and the _VENETIAN_.
Together with the _Cause_ of the final
_Extirpation_, _Destruction_ and _Exile_
of the _JEWS_ out of the
EMPIRE of PERSIA.
* * * * *
In the _SAVOY_,
Printed for _Henry Herringman_ at the Sign
of the _Anchor_ in the Lower-Walk of
the _New-Exchange_. 1669.
[Illustration: Title decoration]
To the READER.
_The Great_ Scaliger _was wont commonly to say_, Omnis Historia bona,
_that all_ History _was_ good; _meaning, that it was_ worthy _of_
notice, _so it were_ true, _and_ matter _of_ fact, _though the_ Subject
_of it were never so_ trivial. This, _though but a_ Pamphlet _in bulke,
is very_ considerable _for the_ Matters _it containes, and for that it
endeavours to informe, and disabuse_ _the_ World _of a current_ Error,
_which has mingled, and spread it selfe into divers grave_ Relations
_that have been_ Printed, _and confidently published many Yeares without
Suspition._
_How I came to be enlightned for these_ Pieces, _I have in part declar'd
in my_ Dedicatory _Addresses; and if I forbear to publish the_ Name _of
that Intelligent_ Stranger, _and that other_ Person, _from whom I
received my_ Informations; _You are to know, that it is not out of fear
of being detected of_ Imposture, _whil'st we declare against it, and
which cannot serve any_ Interest _of the_ Relators; _but because, being_
Strangers, _or_ Itinerants, _and one of them upon his return into his_
_Native_ Country _(which may possibly engage them to passe by_ Malta,
_and other_ Levantine _parts obnoxious to these_ Discourses) _it would
appear but ingrateful in us to expose them to an_ Inconvenience. _Let it
suffice to assure you, that they are_ Persons _of no mean_ Parts,
Ingenuity _and_ Candor; _well acquainted with the_ Eastern Countreys
_and_ Affaires, _and that have themselves been witnesses of most of
these Transactions._
_It were to be wish'd that our_ Christian Monarchs _had alwayes near
them some dextrous_ Person _of this_ Gentlemans _abilites; were it but
to_ Discover _such_ Cheates _as frequently appearing under the Disguise
of Distressed_ Princes, Merchants, _&c. are, to truth, but_ Spies, _and
bold_ Impostors, _and whom otherwise 'tis almost impossible to_ detect;
_not to suggest the many other good_ Offices, _as to the_ Eastern
Commerce _and_ Affaires, _they might be_ useful _in. But this is more
than I have_ Commission _to say from those who have no other design in
what they_ Relate, _than their_ Affection _to_ Truth. _It is not yet a
full_ Year _since there went a Crafty_ Varlet _about the_ Countrey, _who
pretended himself to be the_ Brother _of the famous_ Peter Serini
_(whose brave and_ Heroick Actions _had so celebrated him against the_
Turkes) _and related a_ Story _by his feign'd_ Interpreter, _how he
fortun'd to be cast on shore on the_ West _of_ England, _as he was
conducting_ Supplies _from abroad._ This _he perform'd with a
confidence and success so happily, as caus'd him to be_ receiv'd,
presented, _and_ assisted (_like another_ Mahomed Bei) _by divers_
Persons _of_ Quality, _and some of them my nearest_ Acquaintance, _in
his Pretended Journey to_ Court; _But being at last discover'd in a_
Tipling-house _on the_ Rode, _where un-mindful | 1,441.6388 |
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
The Thousand and One Days;
A COMPANION TO THE
"_Arabian Nights._"
WITH INTRODUCTION BY MISS PARDOE.
[Illustration: P. 113.]
LONDON:
WILLIAM LAY, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND.
1857.
INTRODUCTION.
The Compiler of the graceful little volume which I have the pleasure
of introducing to the public, has conferred an undeniable benefit upon
the youth of England by presenting to them a collection of Oriental
Tales, which, rich in the elements of interest and entertainment, are
nevertheless entirely free from the licentiousness which renders so
many of the fictions of the East, beautiful and brilliant as they are,
most objectionable for young and ardent minds. There is indeed no lack
of the wonderful in the pages before us, any more than in the Arabian
and Persian Tales already so well known: but it will be seen that the
supernatural agency in the narratives is used as a means to work out
totally different results. There is, in truth, scarcely one of these
Tales which does not inculcate a valuable moral lesson; as may be seen
by reference to "The Powder of Longevity," "The Old Camel," and "The
Story of the Dervise Abounadar" among several, others.
The present collection of Eastern Stories has been principally derived
from the works of different Oriental Scholars on the Continent, and
little doubt can be entertained of the genuineness of their origin;
while they have been carefully selected, and do honour to the good
taste of their Compiler. An acknowledgment is also due to him for his
adherence to the good old orthography to which we have all been
accustomed from our childhood, in the case of such titles as "Caliph,"
"Vizier," "Houri," "Genii," &c.; as, however critically correct and
learned the spelling of Mr. Lane may be in his magnificent version of
the "Thousand and One Nights," and however appropriate to a work of so
much research and value to Oriental students, it would have been alike
fatiguing and out of character to have embarrassed a volume, simply
intended for the amusement of youthful readers, by a number of hard
and unfamiliar words, difficult of pronunciation to all save the
initiated; and for the pleasure of the young requiring translation
fully as much as the narrative itself.
In one of the Tales there will be at once detected a portion of the
favourite old story of Aladdin's Lamp, in the subterranean gem-garden
discovered by the handsome youth; while in another, mention is made
of the already-familiar legend of the hidden city of Ad, so popular
among the ancient Arabs[1]; but these repetitions will cease to create
any surprise when it is remembered that the professional story-tellers
of the East are a wandering race, who travel from city to city,
exhibiting their talent during seasons of festivity, in the palaces of
the wealthy and the public coffee-houses. Those admitted to the
women's apartments are universally aged crones, whose volubility is
something marvellous; and they are always welcome guests to the
indolent beauties, who listen to them for hours together without a
symptom of weariness, as they pour forth their narratives in a
monotonous voice strangely displeasing to European ears. The men,
while reciting their tales, indulge in violent gesticulations and
contortions of the body, which appear to produce great delight in
their audience. Since they generally travel two or three in company;
and, save in rare cases of improvisation, their stock of narrative is
common to all, it is their ambition so individually to embellish,
heighten, and amplify their subject-matter, as to outshine their
competitors; and it is consequently to this cause that the numerous
variations of the same Tale which have reached Europe must be
attributed.
Taken altogether, there can be no doubt that the "Thousand and One
Days" merit the warm welcome which I trust awaits them.
J. P.
LONDON, FEB. 1857.
CONTENTS.
I.
PAGE
HASSAN ABDALLAH, OR THE ENCHANTED KEYS 1
Story of Hassan 7
Story of the Basket-Maker 11
Story of the Dervise Abounadar 21
Conclusion of the Story of Hassan 29
II.
SOLIMAN BEY AND THE THREE STORY TELLERS 46
First Story Teller 47
Second Story Teller 49
Third Story Teller 55
III.
PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA 58
Story of Prince Al Abbas 67
Continuation of Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China 99
Story of Lin-in 106
Story of Prince Khalaf concluded 126
IV.
THE WISE DEY 178
V.
THE TUNISIAN SAGE 190
VI.
THE NOSE FOR GOLD 203
VII.
THE TREASURES OF BASRA 215
History of Aboulcassem 223
Conclusion of the Treasures of Basra 230
VIII.
THE OLD CAMEL 250
IX.
THE STORY OF MEDJEDDIN 263
X.
KING BEDREDDIN-LOLO AND HIS VIZIR 299
Story of the Old Slippers 300
Story of Atalmulc the Sorrowful 305
Continuation of King Bedreddin-Lolo and his Vizir 338
Story of Malek and the Princess Schirine 340
Conclusion 358
[Illustration]
THE "THOUSAND AND ONE DAYS;"
OR,
ARABIAN TALES.
I.
THE STORY OF HASSAN ABDALLAH; OR, THE ENCHANTED KEYS.
Theilon, caliph of Egypt, died, after having bequeathed his power to
his son, Mohammed, who, like a wise and good prince, proceeded to root
out abuses, and finally caused peace and justice to flourish
throughout his dominions. Instead of oppressing his people by new
taxes, he employed the treasures, which his father had amassed by
violence, in supporting learned men, rewarding the brave, and
assisting the unfortunate. Every thing succeeded under his happy sway;
the risings of the Nile were regular and abundant; every year the soil
produced rich harvests; and commerce, honoured and protected, caused
the gold of foreign nations to flow abundantly into the ports of
Egypt.
Mohammed determined, one day, to take the census of the officers of
his army, and of all the persons in public situations whose salaries
were paid out of the treasury. The vizirs, to the number of forty,
first made their appearance and knelt in succession before the
sovereign. They were, for the most part, men venerable from their age,
and some of them had long beards of snowy whiteness. They all wore on
their heads tiaras of gold, enriched with precious stones, and carried
in their hands long staves as badges of their power. One enumerated
the battles in which he had been engaged, and the honourable wounds he
had received; another recounted the long and laborious studies he had
pursued, in order to render himself master of the various sciences,
and to qualify himself to serve the state by his wisdom and knowledge.
After the vizirs, came the governors of provinces, the generals, and
the great officers of the army; and next to them the civil
magistrates, and all who were entrusted with the preservation of the
peace and the awarding of justice. Behind these walked the public
executioner, who, although stout and well-fed, like a man who had
nothing to do, went along as if depressed with grief, and instead of
carrying his sword naked on his shoulder, he kept it in its scabbard.
When he came into the presence of the prince, he threw himself at his
feet, and exclaimed, "O mighty prince, the day of justice and of
munificence is at last about to dawn on me! Since the death of the
terrible Theilon, under whose reign my life was happy and my condition
prosperous, I have seen my occupation and its emoluments diminish
daily. If Egypt continue thus to live in peace and plenty, I shall run
great danger of perishing with hunger, and my family will be brought
to misery and ruin."
Mohammed listened in silence to the complaints of the headsman, and
acknowledged that there was some foundation for them, for his salary
was small, and the chief part of his profits arose from what he
obtained from criminals, either by way of gift, or as a rightful fee.
In times of trouble, quarrelling, and violence, he had lived, in
fact, in a state of ease and affluence, while now, under the present
prosperous reign, he had nothing better than the prospect of beggary
before him.
"Is it then true," exclaimed the caliph, "that the happiness of all is
a dream? that what is joy to one, may be the cause of grief to
another? O executioner, fear not as to your fate! May it, indeed,
please God that, under my reign, your sword,--which is almost as often
an instrument of vengeance as of justice,--may remain useless and | 1,441.639814 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Eunice
By Margaret Murray Robertson
Published by Hodder and Stoughton, 27 Paternoster Row, London.
This edition dated 1890.
Eunice, by Margaret Murray Robertson.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
EUNICE, BY MARGARET MURRAY ROBERTSON.
CHAPTER ONE.
GOING HOME.
One fair morning, a good many years ago, a number of schoolgirls were
waiting at a little wayside station on the banks of the Connecticut
River. They had crossed the river in a ferry-boat and were waiting for
more of their number who were coming after them.
They were waiting patiently enough. It was a good place in which to
wait, for the scene around them was very lovely. They were standing at
the foot of Mount Tom, glorious in the morning sunshine, and looking
over on the shadows which still lingered on the face of Mount Holyoke.
From the far north flows the Connecticut River broadening on its way, as
Green Mountain and White send down on either hand, from melting
snow-drifts and hidden springs, their tribute to its waters. Through
forests and broken hill country, through meadows, sometimes broad and
sometimes narrow, past town and village and lonely farmhouse, it flows
before it makes a bend to pass between Mounts Tom and Holyoke, but in
all its course it flows through no fairer landscape than that which
spreads itself around the base of these two historic mountains.
Over all the land lay the promise of spring in the glory of cloudless
sunshine. Only the promise as yet. The mountains were still bare and
brown, with patches of snow lingering in hollow and crevice; and the
great elms that were everywhere--in the village streets, along the roads
that wound between the hills, and around the white farmhouses--showed no
tinge of green as yet, but their brown buds were ready and waiting to
burst; the meadows were growing green and the catkins were large and
full on the willows by the brooks that hastened through them to the
river. There was a soft tinge, half green, half golden, on earlier
trees growing in sheltered places; and the promise of the spring was
everywhere--more joyfully welcomed after a long winter than spring in
the full glory of leaf and blossom.
They were thinking and speaking of other things--these waiting
schoolgirls. Some of them walked about, softly speaking last words to
each other, and some of them were watching the coming of the boat over
the swollen waters of the river. But the beauty around them, the
sweetness of the spring morning, the restful quiet on mountain and
valley, were present with them all.
"Nellie Austin," said a voice from the group that watched the boat, "do
you see? Your `Faithful' is coming after all."
"My Faithful!"--and a young girl sprang forward as the boat touched the
bank.
A slender girl, very plainly dressed, stepped out first--a girl with
grave dark eyes and a firm mouth, which yet trembled a little as she
answered her companion's greeting.
"Faithful! my Faithful! you are coming home with me after all?"
"No, dear; I am going home to my Eunice. I thought I had better."
"Have you heard again? Is | 1,442.55821 |
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Produced by Les Bowler
WITH EDGED TOOLS
By Henry Seton Merriman
"Of the same clay he maketh both the vessels that serve for clean
uses, and likewise also such as serve to the contrary; but what is
the use of either sort, the potter himself is the judge."
TO JAMES PAYN
A TOKEN OF SINCERE REGARD
CONTENTS
I. TWO GENERATIONS
II. OVER THE OLD GROUND
III. A FAREWELL
IV. A TRAGEDY
V. WITH EDGED TOOLS
VI. UNDER THE LINE
VII. THE SECRET OF THE SIMIACINE
VIII. A RECRUIT
IX. TO PASS THE TIME
X. LOANGO
XI. A COMPACT
XII. A MEETING
XIII. IN BLACK AND WHITE
XIV. PANIC-STRICKEN
XV. A CONFIDENCE
XVI. WAR
XVII. UNDERHAND
XVIII. A REQUEST
XIX. IVORY
XX. BROUGHT TO THE SCRATCH
XXI. THE FIRST CONSIGNMENT
XXII. THE SECOND CONSIGNMENT
XXIII. MERCURY
XXIV. NEMESIS
XXV. TO THE RESCUE
XXVI. IN PERIL
XXVII. OFF DUTY
XXVIII. A SLOW RECOVERY
XXIX. A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE
XXX. OLD BIRDS
XXXI. SEED-TIME
XXXII. AN ENVOY
XXXIII. DARK DEALING
XXXIV. AMONG THORNS
XXXV. ENGAGED
XXXVI. NO COMPROMISE
XXXVII. FOUL PLAY
XXXVIII. THE ACCURSED CAMP
XXXIX. THE EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCE
XL. SIR JOHNS LAST CARD
XLI. A TROIS
XLII. A STRONG FRIENDSHIP
XLIII. A LONG DEBT
XLIV. MADE UP
XLV. THE TELEGRAM
CHAPTER I. TWO GENERATIONS
Why all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain.
"My dear--Madam--what you call heart does not come into the question at
all."
Sir John Meredith was sitting slightly behind Lady Cantourne, leaning
towards her with a somewhat stiffened replica of his former grace. But
he was not looking at her--and she knew it.
They were both watching a group at the other side of the great ballroom.
"Sir John Meredith on Heart," said the old lady, with a depth of
significance in her voice.
"And why not?"
"Yes, indeed. Why not?"
Sir John smiled with that well-bred cynicism which a new school has not
yet succeeded in imitating. They were of the old school, these two;
and their worldliness, their cynicism, their conversational attitude,
belonged to a bygone period. It was a cleaner period in some ways--a
period devoid of slums. Ours, on the contrary, is an age of slums
wherein we all dabble to the detriment of our hands--mental, literary,
and theological.
Sir John moved slightly in his chair, leaning one hand on one knee. His
back was very flat, his clothes were perfect, his hair was not his own,
nor yet his teeth. But his manners were entirely his own. His face was
eighty years old, and yet he smiled his keen society smile with the best
of them. There was not a young man in the room of whom he was afraid,
conversationally.
"No, Lady Cantourne," he repeated. "Your charming niece is heartless.
She will get on."
Lady Cantourne smiled, and drew the glove further up her stout and
motherly right arm.
"She will get on," she admitted. "As to the other, it is early to give
an opinion."
"She has had the best of trainings--," he murmured. And Lady Cantourne
turned on him with a twinkle amidst the wrinkles.
"For which?" she asked.
"Choisissez!" he answered, with a bow.
One sees a veteran swordsman take up the foil with a tentative turn of
the wrist, lunging at thin air. His zest for the game has gone; but the
skill lingers, and at times he is tempted to show the younger blades a
pass or two. These were veteran fencers with a skill of their own, which
they loved to display at times. The zest was that of remembrance; the
sword-play of words was above the head of a younger generation given to
slang and music-hall airs; and so these two had little bouts for their
own edification, and enjoyed the glitter of it vastly.
Sir John's face relaxed into the only repose he ever allowed it; for he
had a habit of twitching and moving his lips such as some old men have.
And occasionally, in an access of further senility, he fumbled with his
fingers at his mouth. He was clean shaven, and even in his old age he
was handsome beyond other men--standing an upright six feet two.
The object of his attention was the belle of that ball, Miss Millicent
Chyne, who was hemmed into a corner by a group of eager dancers anxious
to insert their names in some corner of her card. She was the fashion at
that time. And she probably did not know that at least half of the men
crowded round because the other half were there. Nothing succeeds like
the success that knows how to draw a crowd.
She received the ovation self-possessedly enough, but without that
hauteur affected by belles of balls--in books. She seemed to have a
fresh smile for each new applicant--a smile which conveyed to each
in turn the fact that she had been attempting all along to get her
programme safely into his hands. A halting masculine pen will not be
expected to explain how she compassed this, beyond a gentle intimation
that masculine vanity had a good deal to do with her success.
"She is having an excellent time," said Sir John, weighing on the modern
phrase with a subtle sarcasm. He was addicted to the use of modern
phraseology, spiced with a cynicism of his own.
"Yes, I cannot help sympathising with her--a little," answered the lady.
"Nor I. It will not last."
"Well, she is only gathering the rosebuds."
"Wisely so, your ladyship. They at least LOOK as if they were going to
last. The full-blown roses do not."
Lady Cantourne gave a little sigh. This was the difference between them.
She could not watch without an occasional thought for a time that was no
more. The man seemed to be content that the past had been lived through
and would never renew itself.
"After all," she said, "she is my sister's child. The sympathy may only
be a matter of blood. Perhaps I was like that myself once. Was I? You
can tell me."
She looked slowly round the room and his face hardened. He knew that she
was reflecting that there was no one else who could tell her; and he did
not like it.
"No," he answered readily.
"And what was the difference?"
She looked straight in front of her with a strange old-fashioned
demureness.
"Their name is legion, for they are many."
"Name a few. Was I as good-looking as that, for instance?"
He smiled--a wise, old, woman-searching smile.
"You were better-looking than that," he said, with a glance beneath his
lashless lids. "Moreover, there was more of the grand lady about you.
You behaved better. There was less shaking hands with your partners,
less nodding and becking, and none of that modern forwardness which is
called, I believe, camaraderie."
"Thank you, Sir John," she answered, looking at him frankly with a
pleasant smile. "But it is probable that we had the faults of our age."
He fumbled at his lips, having reasons of his own for disliking too
close a scrutiny of his face.
"That is more than probable," he answered, rather indistinctly.
"Then," she said, tapping the back of his gloved hand with her fan, "we
ought to be merciful to the faults of a succeeding generation. Tell
me who is that young man with the long stride who is getting himself
introduced now."
"That," answered Sir John, who prided himself upon knowing every
one--knowing who they were and who they were not--"is young Oscard."
"Son of the eccentric Oscard?"
"Son of the eccentric Oscard."
"And where did he get that brown face?"
"He got that in Africa, where he has been shooting. He forms part of
some one else's bag at the present moment."
"What do you mean?"
"He has been apportioned a dance. Your fair niece has bagged him."
If he had only known it, Guy Oscard won the privilege of a waltz by the
same brown face which Lady Cantourne had so promptly noted. Coupled with
a sturdy uprightness of carriage, this raised him at a bound above the
pallid habitues of ballroom and pavement. It was, perhaps, only natural
that Millicent Chyne should have noted this man as soon as he crossed
the threshold. He was as remarkable as some free and dignified denizen
of the forest in the midst of domestic animals. She mentally put him
down for a waltz, and before five minutes had elapsed he was bowing
before her while a mutual friend murmured his name. One does not know
how young ladies manage these little affairs, but the fact remains
that they are managed. Moreover, it is a singular thing that the young
persons who succeed in the ballroom rarely succeed on the larger
and rougher floor of life. Your belle of the ball, like your Senior
Wrangler, never seems to do much afterwards--and Afterwards is Life.
The other young men rather fell back before Guy Oscard--scared, perhaps,
by his long stride, and afraid that he might crush their puny toes. This
enabled Miss Chyne to give him the very next dance, of which the music
was commencing.
"I feel rather out of all this," said Oscard, as they moved away
together. "You must excuse uncouthness."
"I see no signs of it," laughed Millicent. "You are behaving very
nicely. You cannot help being larger and stronger than--the others. I
should say it was an advantage and something to be proud of."
"Oh, it is not that," replied Oscard; "it is a feeling of unkemptness
and want of smartness among these men who look so clean and correct.
Shall we dance?"
He looked down at her, with an admiration which almost amounted to awe,
as if afraid of entering the throng with such a dainty and wonderful
charge upon his powers of steering. Millicent Chyne saw the glance and
liked it. It was different from the others, quite devoid of criticism,
rather simple and full of honest admiration. She was so beautiful that
she could hardly be expected to be unaware of the fact. She had merely
to make comparisons, to look in the mirror and see that her hair was
fairer and softer, that her complexion was more delicately perfect, that
her slight, rounded figure was more graceful than any around her. Added
to this, she knew that she had more to say than other girls--a larger
stock of those little frivolous, advice-seeking, aid-demanding nothings
than her compeers seemed to possess.
She knew that in saying them she could look brighter and prettier and
more intelligent than her competitors.
"Yes," she said, "let us dance by all means."
Here also she knew her own proficiency, and in a few seconds she found
that her partner was worthy of her skill.
"Where have you been?" she asked presently. "I am sure you have been
away somewhere, exploring or something."
"I have only been in Africa, shooting."
"Oh, how interesting! You must tell me all about it!"
"I am afraid," replied Guy Oscard, with a somewhat shy laugh, "that that
would NOT be interesting. Besides, I could not tell you now."
"No, but some other time. I suppose you are not going back to Africa
to-morrow, Mr. Oscard?"
"Not quite. And perhaps we may meet somewhere else."
"I hope so," replied Miss Chyne. "Besides, you know my aunt, Lady
Cantourne. I live with her, you know."
"I know her slightly."
"Then take an opportunity of improving the acquaintanceship. She is
sitting under the ragged banner over there."
Millicent Chyne indicated the direction with a nod of the head, and
while he looked she took the opportunity of glancing hastily round the
room. She was seeking some one.
"Yes," said Oscard, "I see her, talking to an old gentleman who looks
like Voltaire. I shall give her a chance of recognising me before the
evening is out. I don't mind being snubbed if--"
He paused and steered neatly through a narrow place.
"If what?" she asked, when they were in swing again.
"If it means seeing you again," he answered bluntly--more bluntly than
she was accustomed to. But she liked it. It was a novelty after the
smaller change of ballroom compliments.
She was watching the door all the while.
Presently the music ceased and they made their way back to the
spot whence he had taken her. She led the way thither by an almost
imperceptible pressure of her fingers on his arm. There were several
men waiting there, and one or two more entering the room and looking
languidly round.
"There comes the favoured one," Lady Cantourne muttered, with a veiled
glance towards her companion.
Sir John's grey eyes followed the direction of her glance.
"My bright boy?" he inquired, with a wealth of sarcasm on the adjective.
"Your bright boy," she replied.
"I hope not," he said curtly.
They were watching a tall fair man in the doorway who seemed to know
everybody, so slow was his progress into the room. The most remarkable
thing about this man was a certain grace of movement. He seemed to be
specially constructed to live in narrow, hampered places. He was
above six feet; but, being of slight build, he moved with a certain
languidness which saved him from that unwieldiness usually associated
with large men in a drawing-room.
Such was Jack Meredith, one of the best known figures in London society.
He had hitherto succeeded in moving through the mazes of that coterie,
as he now moved through this room, without jarring against any one.
CHAPTER II. OVER THE OLD GROUND
A man who never makes mistakes never makes anything else
either.
Miss Millicent Chyne was vaguely conscious of success--and such a
consciousness is apt to make the best of us a trifle elated. It was
certainly one of the best balls of the season, and Miss Chyne's dress
was, without doubt, one of the most successful articles of its sort
there.
Jack Meredith saw that fact and noted it as soon as he came into the
room. Moreover, it gratified him, and he was pleased to reflect that he
was no mean critic in such matters. There could be no doubt about it,
because he KNEW as well as any woman there. He knew that Millicent Chyne
was dressed in the latest fashion--no furbished-up gown from the hands
of her maid, but a unique creation from Bond Street.
"Well," she asked in a low voice, as she handed him her programme, "are
you pleased with it?"
"Eminently so."
She glanced down at her own dress. It was not the nervous glance of the
debutante, but the practised flash of experienced eyes which see without
appearing to look.
"I am glad," she murmured.
He handed her back the card with the orthodox smile and bow of
gratitude, but there was something more in his eyes.
"Is that what you did it for?" he inquired.
"Of course," with a glance half coquettish, half humble.
She took the card and allowed it to drop pendent from her fan without
looking at it. He had written nothing on it. This was all a form. The
dances that were his had been inscribed on the engagement-card long
before by smaller fingers than his.
She turned to take her attendant partner's arm with a little flaunt--a
little movement of the hips to bring her dress, and possibly herself,
more prominently beneath Jack Meredith's notice. His eyes followed her
with that incomparably pleasant society smile which he had no doubt
inherited from his father. Then he turned and mingled with the
well-dressed throng, bowing where he ought to bow--asking with fervour
for dances in plain but influential quarters where dances were to be
easily obtained.
And all the while his father and Lady Cantourne watched.
"Yes, I THINK," the lady was saying, "that that is the favoured one."
"I fear so."
"I noticed," observed Lady Cantourne, "that he asked for a dance."
"And apparently got one--or more."
"Apparently so, Sir John."
"Moreover--"
Lady Cantourne turned on him with her usual vivacity.
"Moreover?" she repeated.
"He did not need to write it down on the card; it was written there
already."
She closed her fan with a faint smile
"I sometimes wonder," she said, "whether, in our young days, you were so
preternaturally observant as you are now."
"No," he answered, "I was not. I affected scales of the very opaquest
description, like the rest of my kind."
In the meantime this man's son was going about his business with a
leisurely savoir-faire which few could rival. Jack Meredith was the
beau-ideal of the society man in the best acceptation of the word. One
met him wherever the best people congregated, and he invariably seemed
to know what to do and how to do it better than his compeers. If it was
dancing in the season, Jack Meredith danced, and no man rivalled him.
If it was grouse shooting, Jack Meredith held his gun as straight as any
man. All the polite accomplishments in their season seemed to come to
him without effort; but there was in all the same lack of heart--that
utter want of enthusiasm which imparted to his presence a subtle
suggestion of boredom. The truth was that he was over-educated. Sir John
had taught him how to live and move and have his being with so minute
a care, so keen an insight, that existence seemed to be nothing but an
habitual observance of set rules.
Sir John called him sarcastically his "bright boy," his "hopeful
offspring," the "pride of his old age"; but somewhere in his shrivelled
old heart there nestled an unbounded love and admiration for his son.
Jack had assimilated his teaching with a wonderful aptitude. He had as
nearly as possible realised Sir John Meredith's idea of what an
English gentleman should be, and the old aristocrat's standard was
uncompromisingly high. Public school, University, and two years on the
Continent had produced a finished man, educated to the finger-tips,
deeply read, clever, bright, and occasionally witty; but Jack Meredith
was at this time nothing more than a brilliant conglomerate of
possibilities. He had obeyed his father to the letter with a
conscientiousness bred of admiration. He had always felt that his father
knew best. And now he seemed to be waiting--possibly for further orders.
He was suggestive of a perfect piece of mechanism standing idle for want
of work delicate enough to be manipulated by its delicate craft. Sir
John had impressed upon him the desirability of being independent, and
he had promptly cultivated that excellent quality, taking kindly enough
to rooms of his own in a fashionable quarter. But upon the principle of
taking a horse to the water and being unable to make him drink, Sir John
had not hitherto succeeded in making Jack take the initiative. He had
turned out such a finished and polished English gentleman as his soul
delighted in, and now he waited in cynical silence for Jack Meredith to
take his life into his own hands and do something brilliant with it. All
that he had done up to now had been to prove that he could attain to a
greater social popularity than any other man of his age and station; but
this was not exactly the success that Sir John Meredith coveted for his
son. He had tasted of this success himself, and knew its thinness of
flavour--its fleeting value.
Behind his keen old eyes such thoughts as these were passing, while he
watched Jack go up and claim his dance at the hands of Miss Millicent
Chyne. He could almost guess what they said; for Jack was grave and she
smiled demurely. They began dancing at once, and as soon as the floor
became crowded they disappeared.
Jack Meredith was an adept at such matters. He knew a seat at the end
of a long passage where they could sit, the beheld of all beholders
who happened to pass; but no one could possibly overhear their
conversation--no one could surprise them. It was essentially a
strategical position.
"Well," inquired Jack, with a peculiar breathlessness, when they were
seated, "have you thought about it?"
She gave a little nod.
They seemed to be taking up some conversation at a point where it had
been dropped on a previous occasion.
"And?" he inquired suavely. The society polish was very thickly coated
over the man; but his eyes had a hungry look.
By way of reply her gloved hand crept out towards his, which rested on
the chair at his side.
"Jack!" she whispered; and that was all.
It was very prettily done, and quite naturally. He was a judge of such
matters, and appreciated the girlish simplicity of the action.
He took the small gloved hand and pressed it lovingly. The thoroughness
of his social training prevented any further display of affection.
"Thank Heaven!" he murmured.
They were essentially of the nineteenth century--these two. At a
previous dance he had asked her to marry him; she had deferred her
answer, and now she had given it. These little matters are all a
question of taste. We do not kneel nowadays, either physically or
morally. If we are a trifle off hand, it is the women who are to blame.
They should not write in magazines of a doubtful reputation in language
devoid of the benefit of the doubt. They are equal to us. Bien! One
does not kneel to an equal. A better writer than any of us says that men
serve women kneeling, and when they get to their feet they go away. We
are being hauled up to our feet now.
"But--?" began the girl, and went no further.
"But what?"
"There will be difficulties."
"No doubt," he answered, with quiet mockery. "There always are. I will
see to them. Difficulties are not without a certain advantage. They keep
one on the alert."
"Your father," said the girl. "Sir John--he will object."
Jack Meredith reflected for a moment, lazily, with that leisureliness
which gave a sense of repose to his presence.
"Possibly," he admitted gravely.
"He dislikes me," said the girl. "He is one of my failures."
"I did not know you had any. Have you tried? I cannot quite admit the
possibility of failure."
Millicent Chyne smiled. He had emphasised the last remark with
lover-like glance and tone. She was young enough; her own beauty was new
enough to herself to blind her to the possibility mentioned. She had not
even got to the stage of classifying as dull all men who did not fall
in love with her at first sight. It was her first season, one must
remember.
"I have not tried very hard," she said. "But I don't see why I should
not fail."
"That is easily explained."
"Why?"
"No looking-glass about."
She gave a little pout, but she liked it.
The music of the next dance was beginning, and, remembering their social
obligations, they both rose. She laid her hand on his arm, and for a
moment his fingers pressed hers. He smiled down into her upturned
eyes with love, but without passion. He never for a second risked the
"gentleman" and showed the "man." He was suggestive of a forest pool
with a smiling rippled surface. There might be depth, but it was yet
unpenetrated.
"Shall we go now," he said, "and say a few words in passing to my
redoubtable father? It might be effective."
"Yes, if you like," she answered promptly. There is no more confident
being on earth than a pretty girl in a successful dress.
They met Sir John at the entrance of the ballroom. He was wandering
about, taking in a vast deal of detail.
"Well, young lady," he said, with an old-world bow, "are you having a
successful evening?"
Millicent laughed. She never knew quite how to take Sir John.
"Yes, I think so, thank you," she answered, with a pretty smile. "I am
enjoying myself very much."
There was just the least suggestion of shyness in her manner, and it is
just possible that this softened the old cynic's heart, for his manner
was kinder and almost fatherly when he spoke again.
"Ah!" he said, "at your time of life you do not want much--plenty of
partners and a few ices. Both easily obtainable."
The last words were turned into a compliment by the courtly inclination
of the head that accompanied them.
The exigencies of the moment forced the young people to go with the
stream.
"Jack," said Sir John, as they passed on, "when you have been deprived
of Miss Chyne's society, come and console yourself with a glass of
sherry."
The dutiful son nodded a semi-indifferent acquiescence and disappeared.
"Wonderful thing, sherry!" observed Sir John Meredith for his own
edification.
He waited there until Jack returned, and then they set off in search
of refreshment. The son seemed to know his whereabouts better than the
father.
"This way," he said, "through the conservatory."
Amidst the palms and tropical ferns Sir John paused. A great deal of
care had been devoted to this conservatory. Half hidden among languorous
scented flowers were a thousand tiny lights, while overhead in the
gloom towered graceful palms and bananas. A fountain murmured pleasantly
amidst a cluster of maidenhairs. The music from the ballroom fell softly
over all.
Sir John Meredith and his son stood in silence, looking around them.
Finally their eyes met.
"Are you in earnest with that girl?" asked Sir John abruptly.
"I am," replied Jack. He was smiling pleasantly.
"And you think there is a chance of her marrying you--unless, of course,
something better turns up?"
"With all due modesty I do."
Sir John's hand was at his mouth. He stood up his full six feet two and
looked hard at his son, whose eyes were level with his own. They were
ideal representatives of their school.
"And what do you propose marrying upon? She, I understand, has about
eight hundred a year. I respect you too much to suspect any foolish
notions of love in a cottage."
Jack Meredith made no reply. He was entirely dependent upon his father.
"Of course," said Sir John, "when I die you will be a baronet, and there
will be enough to live on like a gentleman. You had better tell Miss
Chyne that. She may not know it. Girls are so innocent. But I am not
dead yet, and I shall take especial care to live some time."
"In order to prevent my marriage?" suggested Jack. He was still smiling,
and somehow Sir John felt a little uneasy. He did not understand that
smile.
"Precisely so," he said, rather indistinctly.
"What is your objection?" inquired Jack Meredith, after a little pause.
"I object to the girl."
"Upon what grounds?"
"I should prefer you to marry a woman of heart."
"Heart?" repeated Jack, with a suspicion of hereditary cynicism. "I do
not think heart is of much consequence. Besides, in this case, surely
that is my province! you would not have her wear it on her sleeve?"
"She could not do that: not enough sleeve."
Sir John Meredith had his own views on ladies' dress.
"But," he added, "we will not quarrel. Arrange matters with the young
lady as best you can. I shall never approve of such a match, and without
my approval you cannot well marry."
"I do not admit that."
"Indeed?"
"Your approval means money," explained this dutiful son politely. "I
might manage to make the money for myself."
Sir John moved away.
"You might," he admitted, looking back. "I should be very glad to see
you doing so. It is an excellent thing--money."
And he walked leisurely away.
CHAPTER III. A FAREWELL
Since called
The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown.
Having been taught to take all the chances and changes of life with
a well-bred calmness of demeanour, Jack Meredith turned the teaching
against the instructor. He pursued the course of his social duties
without appearing to devote so much as a thought to the quarrel which
had taken place in the conservatory. His smile was as ready as ever, his
sight as keen where an elderly lady looked hungry, his laughter as near
the surface as society demands. It is probable that Sir John suffered
more, though he betrayed nothing. Youth has the upper hand in these
cases, for life is a larger thing when we are young. As we get on in
years, our eggs, to use a homely simile, have a way of accumulating into
one basket.
At eleven o'clock the next morning Sir John Meredith's valet intimated
to his master that Mr. Meredith was waiting in the breakfast-room. Sir
John was in the midst of his toilet--a complicated affair, which, like
other works of art, would not bear contemplation when incomplete.
"Tell him," said the uncompromising old gentleman, "that I will come
down when I am ready."
He made a more careful toilet than usual, and finally came down in a gay
tweed suit, of which the general effect was distinctly heightened by a
pair of white gaiters. He was upright, trim, and perfectly determined.
Jack noted that his clothes looked a little emptier than usual--that was
all.
"Well," said the father, "I suppose we both made fools of ourselves last
night."
"I have not yet seen you do that," replied the son, laying aside the
morning paper which he had been reading.
Sir John smiled grimly. He hoped that Jack was right.
"Well," he added, "let us call it a difference of opinion."
"Yes."
Something in the monosyllable made the old gentleman's lips twitch
nervously.
"I may mention," he said, with a dangerous suavity, "that I still hold
to my opinion."
Jack Meredith rose, without haste. This, like the interview of the
previous night, was conducted upon strictly high-bred and gentlemanly
lines.
"And I to mine," he said. "That is why I took the liberty of calling at
this early hour. I thought that perhaps we might effect some sort of a
compromise."
"It is very good of you to make the proposal." Sir John kept his fingers
away from his lips by an obvious exercise of self-control. "I am not
partial to compromises: they savour of commerce."
Jack gave a queer, curt nod, and moved towards the door. Sir John
extended his unsteady hand and rang the bell.
"Good-morning," he said.
"Graves," he added, to the servant who stood in the doorway, "when you
have closed the door behind Mr. Meredith, bring up breakfast, if you
please."
On the doorstep Jack Meredith looked at his watch. He had an appointment
with Millicent Chyne at half-past eleven--an hour when Lady Cantourne
might reasonably be expected to be absent at the weekly meeting of a
society which, under the guise and nomenclature of friendship, busied
itself in making servant girls discontented with their situations.
It was only eleven o'clock. Jack turned to the left, out of the quiet
but fashionable street, and a few steps took him to Piccadilly. He went
into the first jeweller's shop he saw, and bought a plain diamond ring.
Then he walked on to keep his appointment with his affianced wife.
Miss Millicent Chyne was waiting for him with that mixture of maidenly
feelings of which the discreet novelist only details a selection. It is
not customary to dwell upon thoughts of vague regret at the approaching
withdrawal of a universal admiration--at the future necessity for
discreet and humdrum behaviour quite devoid of the excitement that lurks
in a double meaning. Let it, therefore, be ours to note the outward
signs of a very natural emotion. Miss Chyne noted them herself with
care, and not without a few deft touches to hair and dress. | 1,442.65435 |
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Transcriber’s note:
Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
Enclosed bold font in =equals=.
[Illustration: FRANK READE WEEKLY MAGAZINE Containing Stories of
Adventures on Land, Sea & in the Air]
_Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Application made for
Second-Class Entry at N. Y. Post-Office._
No. 49. NEW YORK | 1,442.658271 |
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THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
OR
Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge
BY CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
AUTHOR OF "THE OUTDOOR CHUMS," "THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE," "THE
OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1911 BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES
BY CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS
Or The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS | 1,442.734275 |
2023-11-16 18:41:06.7214160 | 1,476 | 18 |
Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
THE HUNCHBACK.
THE LOVE-CHASE.
BY
JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.
1887.
INTRODUCTION
James Sheridan Knowles was born at Cork in 1784, and died at Torquay in
December, 1862, at the age of 78. His father was a teacher of elocution,
who compiled a dictionary, and who was related to the Sheridans. He
moved to London when his son was eight years old, and there became
acquainted with William Hazlitt and Charles Lamb. The son, after his
school education, obtained a commission in the army, but gave up
everything for the stage, and made his first appearance at the Crow
Street Theatre, in Dublin. He did not become a great actor, and when he
took to writing plays he did not prove himself a great poet, but his
skill in contriving situations through which a good actor can make his
powers tell upon the public, won the heart of the great actor of his day,
and as Macready's own poet he rose to fame.
Before Macready had discovered him, Sheridan Knowles lived partly by
teaching elocution at Belfast and Glasgow, partly by practice of
elocution as an actor. In 1815 he produced at the Belfast Theatre his
first play, _Caius Gracchus_. His next play, _Virginius_ was produced at
Glasgow with great success. Macready, who had, at the age of seventeen,
begun his career as an actor at his father's theatre in Birmingham, had,
on Monday, October 5th, 1819, at the age of twenty-six, taken the
Londoners by storm in the character of Richard III Covent Garden reopened
its closed treasury. It was promptly followed by a success in
_Coriolanus_, and Macready's place was made. He was at once offered
fifty pounds a night for appearing on one evening a week at Brighton. It
was just after that turn in Macready's fortunes that a friend at Glasgow
recommended to him the part of Virginius in Sheridan Knowles's play
lately produced there. He agreed unwillingly to look at it, and says
that in April, 1820, the parcel containing the MS. came as he was going
out. He hesitated, then sat down to read it that he might get a
wearisome job over. As he read, he says, "The freshness and simplicity
of the dialogue fixed my attention; I read on and on, and was soon
absorbed in the interest of the story and the passion of its scenes, till
at its close I found myself in such a state of excitement that for a time
I was undecided what step to take. Impulse was in the ascendant, and
snatching up my pen I hurriedly wrote, as my agitated feelings prompted,
a letter to the author, to me then a perfect stranger." Bryan Procter
(Barry Cornwall) read the play next day with Macready, and confirmed him
in his admiration of it.
Macready at once got it accepted at the theatre, where nothing was spent
on scenery, but there was a good cast, and the enthusiasm of Macready as
stage manager for the occasion half affronted some of his seniors. On
the 17th of May, 1820, about a month after it came into Macready's hands,
_Virginius_ was produced at Covent Garden, where, says the actor in his
"Reminiscences," "the curtain fell amidst the most deafening applause of
a highly-excited auditory." Sheridan Knowles's fame, therefore, was
made, like that of his friend Macready, and the friendship between author
and actor continued. Sheridan Knowles had a kindly simplicity of
character, and the two qualities for which an actor most prizes a
dramatist, skill in providing opportunities for acting that will tell,
and readiness to make any changes that the actor asks for. The
postscript to his first letter to Macready was, "Make any alterations you
like in any part of the play, and I shall be obliged to you." When he
brought to the great actor his play of _William Tell_--_Caius Gracchus_
had been produced in November, 1823--there were passages of writing in it
that stopped the course of action, and, says Macready, "Knowles had less
of the tenacity of authorship than most writers," so that there was no
difficulty about alterations, Macready having in a very high degree the
tenacity of actorship. And so, in 1825, _Tell_ became another of
Macready's best successes.
Sheridan Knowles continued to write for the stage until 1845, when he was
drawn wholly from the theatre by a religious enthusiasm that caused him,
in 1851, to essay the breaking of a lance with Cardinal Wiseman on the
subject of Transubstantiation. Sir Robert Peel gave ease to his latter
days by a pension of 200 pounds a year from the Civil List, which he had
honourably earned by a career as dramatist, in which he sought to appeal
only to the higher sense of literature, and to draw enjoyment from the
purest source. Of his plays time two comedies {1} here given are all
that have kept their place upon the stage. As one of the most earnest
dramatic writers of the present century he is entitled to a little corner
in our memory. Worse work of the past has lasted longer than the plays
of Sheridan Knowles are likely to last through the future.
H. M.
THE HUNCHBACK.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
(AS ORIGINALLY PERFORMED AT COVENT GARDEN IN 1832.)
_Julia_ Miss F. KEMBLE.
_Helen_ Miss TAYLOR.
_Master Walter_ Mr. J. S. KNOWLES.
_Sir Thomas Clifford_ Mr. C. KEMBLE.
_Lord Tinsel_ Mr. WRENCH.
_Master Wilford_ Mr. J. MASON.
_Modus_ Mr. ABBOTT.
_Master Heartwell_ Mr. EVANS.
_Gaylove_ Mr. HENRY.
_Fathom_ Mr. MEADOWS.
_Thomas_ Mr. BARNES.
_Stephen_ Mr. PAYNE.
_Williams_ Mr. IRWIN.
_Simpson | 1,442.741456 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Yankee Girls in Zulu Land
By Louise Vescelius-Sheldon
Illustrations by G.E. Graves
Published by Worthington Co, New York.
This edition dated 1888.
Yankee Girls in Zulu Land, by Louise Vescelius-Sheldon.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
YANKEE GIRLS IN ZULU LAND, BY LOUISE VESCELIUS-SHELDON.
CHAPTER ONE.
New York City, _November_, 18--.
My Dear Children:
Your Affectionate Mother.
P.S. George wants to know what has set you thinking of going to South
Africa, where there are only Zulus and missionaries. Of course if the
physician orders it for Frank's health, you know what is best.
CHAPTER TWO.
Well, it had rained, and snowed, and "fogged" for six months during the
year we were in London, and we had seen the sun only on ten separate
days during that period. The doctor ordered a change of climate for
Frank, to a land of heat and sunshine, and advised us to go to South
Africa, that land of "Zulus and missionaries."
The old strain ran | 1,442.742976 |
2023-11-16 18:41:06.7230150 | 511 | 21 |
Produced by Laura Natal Rodrigues & Marc D'Hooghe at Free
Literature (with thanks to ebooks@Adelaide)
DRAWINGS OF LEONARDO DA VINCI
With an introduction by Charles Lewis Hind
LONDON. GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED
SOUTHAMPTON STREET. STRAND WC
NEW YORK. CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1907
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATE
PROFILE OF A WARRIOR FRONTISPIECE
PORTRAIT OF ISABELLA D'ESTE I
STUDY OF AN OLD MAN II
STUDY OF DRAPERIES FOR KNEELING FIGURES III
STUDY OF A BACCHUS IV
HEAD OF A MAN V
BATTLE BETWEEN HORSEMEN AND MONSTERS VI
WOMAN SEATED ON GROUND AND CHILD KNEELING VII
STUDIES OF HEADS VIII
YOUTH ON HORSEBACK IX
STUDIES FOR THE EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF FRANCESCO SFORZA X
THE VIRGIN, ST. ANNE AND INFANT XI
STUDIES OF CHILDREN XII
THE COMBAT XIII
STUDY FOR A MADONNA XIV
STUDIES FOR "THE HOLY FAMILY" XV
STUDIES FOR "THE LAST SUPPER" XVI
COURTYARD OF A CANNON-FOUNDRY XVII
STUDY OF THE HEAD OF AN APOSTLE XVIII
STUDY FOR BACKGROUND OF "THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI" XIX
STUDY OF LANDSCAPE XX
STUDY OF A TREE XXI
TWO HEADS CARICATURES XXII
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST XXIII
THE HEAD OF CHRIST XXIV
CARICATURES XXV
HEAD OF AN ANGEL XXVI
STUDY OF A MAN'S HEAD XXVII
STUDIES OF HANDS XXVIII
DRAGON FIGHTING WITH A LION XXIX
MAN KNEELING XXX
PORTRAIT STUDY XXXI
STUDIES OF ANIMALS XXXII
PORTRAIT OF LEON | 1,442.743055 |
2023-11-16 18:41:07.0385950 | 135 | 45 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of Studies from Court and Cloister
by J.M. Stone
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THE TIGER-SLAYER.
A TALE OF THE INDIAN DESERT.
BY
GUSTAVE AIMARD,
AUTHOR OF "THE PRAIRIE FLOWER," ETC.
LONDON
WARD AND LOCK
MDCCCLX.
CONTENTS
PREFACE.
I. LA FERIA DE PLATA
II. DON SYLVA DE TORRES
III. THE TWO HUNTERS
IV. COUNT MAXIM GAETAN DE LHORAILLES
V. THE DAUPH'YEERS
VI. BY THE WINDOW
VII. A DUEL
VIII. THE DEPARTURE
IX. A MEETING IN THE DESERT
X. BEFORE THE ATTACK
XI. THE MEXICAN MOON
XII. A WOMAN'S STRATAGEM
XIII. A NIGHT JOURNEY
XIV. AN INDIAN TRICK
XV. SET A CHIEF TO CATCH A CHIEF
XVI. THE CASA GRANDE OF MOCTECUHZOMA
XVII. CUCHARES
XVIII. IN WHICH THE STORY GOES BACK
XIX. IN THE PRAIRIE
XX. BOOT AND SADDLE
XXI. THE CONFESSION
XXII. THE MAN HUNT
XXIII. THE APACHES
XXIV. THE WOOD RANGERS
XXV. EL AHUEHUELT
PREFACE.
It is hardly necessary to say anything on behalf of the new aspirant for
public favour whom I am now introducing to the reader. He has achieved a
continental reputation, and the French regard him proudly as their
Fenimore Cooper. It will be found, I trust, on perusal, that the
position he has so rapidly assumed in the literature of his country is
justified by the reality of his descriptions, and the truthfulness which
appears in every page. Gustave Aimard has the rare advantage of having
lived for many years as an Indian among the Indians. He is acquainted
with their language, and has gone through all the extraordinary phases
of a nomadic life in the prairie. Had he chosen to write his life, it
would have been one of the most marvellous romances of the age: but he
has preferred to weave into his stories the extraordinary events of
which he has been witness during his chequered life. Believing that his
works only require to be known in order to secure him as favourable a
reception in this country as he has elsewhere, it has afforded me much
satisfaction to have it in my power to place them in this garb. Some
slight modifications have been effected here and there; but in other
respects I have presented a faithful rendering.
LASCELLES WRAXALL.
CHAPTER I.
LA FERIA DE PLATA.
From the earliest days of the discovery of America, its distant shores
became the refuge and rendezvous of adventurers of every description,
whose daring genius, stifled by the trammels of the old European
civilisation, sought fresh scope for action.
Some asked from the New World liberty of conscience--the right of
praying to God in their own fashion; others, breaking their sword blades
to convert them into daggers, assassinated entire nations to rob their
gold, and enrich themselves with their spoils; others, lastly, men of
indomitable temperament, with lions' hearts contained in bodies of iron,
recognising no bridle, accepting no laws, and confounding liberty with
license, formed, almost unconsciously, that formidable association of
the "Brethren of the Coast," which for a season made Spain tremble for
her possessions, and with which Louis XIV., the Sun King, did not
disdain to treat.
The descendants of these extraordinary men still exist in America; and
whenever any revolutionary crisis heaves up, after a short struggle, the
dregs of the population, they instinctively range themselves round the
grandsons of the great adventurers, in the hope of achieving mighty
things in their turn under the leadership of heroes.
At the period when we were in America chance allowed us to witness one
of the boldest enterprises ever conceived and carried out by these
daring adventurers. This _coup de main_ created such excitement that for
some months it occupied the press, and aroused the curiosity and
sympathy of the whole world.
Reasons, which our readers will doubtless appreciate, have induced us to
alter the names of the persons who played the principal parts in this
strange drama, though we adhere to the utmost exactness as regards the
facts.
About ten years back the discovery of the rich Californian plains
awakened suddenly the adventurous instincts of thousands of young and
intelligent men, who, leaving country and family, rushed, full of
enthusiasm, towards the new Eldorado, where the majority only met with
misery and death, after sufferings and vexations innumerable.
The road from Europe to California is a long one. Many persons stopped
half way; some at Valparaiso; others, again, at Mazatlan or San Blas,
though the majority reached San Francisco.
It is not within the scope of our story to give the details, too well
known at present, of all the deceptions by which the luckless emigrants
were assailed with the first step they took on this land, where they
imagined they needed only to stoop and pick up handfuls of gold.
| 1,443.156484 |
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THE
ÆSCULAPIAN LABYRINTH EXPLORED;
OR,
MEDICAL MYSTERY ILLUSTRATED.
IN A SERIES OF INSTRUCTIONS TO
YOUNG PHYSICIANS, SURGEONS, ACCOUCHERS, APOTHECARIES,
DRUGGISTS, AND PRACTITIONERS OF EVERY
DENOMINATION, IN TOWN AND COUNTRY.
INTERSPERSED WITH A VARIETY OF
RISIBLE ANECDOTES AFFECTING THE FACULTY.
INSCRIBED
TO THE COLLEGE OF WIGS,
BY
GREGORY GLYSTER,
AN OLD PRACTITIONER.
“TWENTY MORE! KILL THEM TOO.”——BOBADIL.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR G. KEARSLEY, NO. 46, FLEET-STREET.
MDCCLXXXIX.
[PRICE THREE SHILLINGS AND SIX-PENCE.]
TO THE COLLEGE OF WIGS.
“Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
“My very noble and approved good” Doctors.
The solemnity of your somniferous aspects, no less than the
professional gravity of your external ornaments, lay claim to a bow
of obedient recollection in passing through W—— k-lane to public
inspection. As one of the most _popular_ descendants from your great
progenitor, permit me to acknowledge, I revere the _vast extent_ of
your _medical abilities_; that I feel most forcibly the _enormous
weight_ of your _accumulated learning_, and _tremble_ at the very idea
of your _experimental abilities_.
Condescend, dread Sirs, to sanction this analization of _Æsculapian
imposition_ and _medical mystery_, with such proof of approbation, as
the dignity of a _diploma_, and the muscular rigidity of _physical
countenance_ will permit you to bestow; nor let it be the less entitled
to your favor, that a long list of _valetudinarians_ (to whom you are
daily pensioners) become partakers of the _banquet of mirth_; or the
small fry of _pharmacopolists_ (your humble dependents) _for once_
permitted to take a seat at the _same table_ with yourselves.
Anxiously solicitous to obtain belief, that
“I shall nothing extenuate,
“Nor set down aught in malice,”
you may in justice conclude me,
_Sage Sirs!_
Your very candid,
And obedient representative,
GREGORY GLYSTER.
THE
ÆSCULAPIAN LABYRINTH
EXPLORED.
TO THE PHYSICIAN.
Having passed the tedious years of abstruse study and intense
application, necessary to your initiation in the mysteries of physic,
and replete with a perfect remembrance of all the requisites to this
_great art_, we suppose you recently emerged from the obscurity of
_dreary walls_ and _dull professors_, a phenomænon of universal
knowledge and _family_ admiration. The various and elaborate
examinations you have passed, with scholastic approbation, having
relieved you from the constantly accumulating load of anxiety, you are
at length launched into life under a new character, and daily pant
to display the dignity of your profession, in the happy appendage of
_M. D._ to the prescriptive initials of your name.
You are no longer to be considered a student labouring in the heavy
trammels of _unintelligible_ lectures upon _philosophy_, _anatomy_,
_botany_, _chemistry_, and the _materia medica_, with all their
distinct and consequent advantages; or investigating the actual
properties of _electrical fire_ and MAGNETIC ENTHUSIASM, but stamped
(by royal authority) with the full force of physical agency, and have
derived from your _merit_ unlimited permission to _cure_, “_kill_ or
_destroy_,” to the best of your knowledge and abilities, “so help you
“God.” The professional path you now begin to tread, is so replete
with danger, and the probability of success so very uncertain, that
the fertile world have not omitted to make it proverbial, “A physician
never begins to get bread, till he has no “teeth to eat it.” The truth
of this may perhaps have been _lamentingly_ acknowledged by some of the
most _learned men_ that ever became dependant upon a _capricious_ world
for _precarious_ subsistance.
This palpable fact may concisely serve to convince you, your
embarkation (with all its alluring prospects) will not only be
encumbered with difficulties, but your ultimate gratification of
success exceedingly doubtful. Great depth of learning may afford
consolation to the equity of your own feelings (if you fortunately
possess them) but it is by no means necessary to the acquisition of
_public opinion_, however it may tend to contribute to the general good.
To avoid entering into a sentimental disquisition upon the _honesty_,
_integrity_, or _strict propriety_ of the maxims I proceed to lay
down for your future conduct to obtain professional splendour, and
_insure success_; I avail myself of the privilege I possess, to wave
every consideration of the _conscientious kind_, and once more observe
(without adverting to their consistency) they are adduced only as the
unavoidable traits of character, and modes of behaviour, by which alone
(in the present age) you can possibly hope for the least proportional
share of practice as a physician.
At your first public entré, when the college list and court calendar
have announced your qualifications and advancement to the wondering
world (that such list should annually increase) let your friends
and relatives be doubly assiduous in propagating reports (almost
incredible) of your _great humanity_, _extensive abilities_, and
_unbounded benevolence_.—This will answer the intended purpose to a
certainty; crouds of the afflicted and necessitous will surround your
habitation, and render your place of residence constantly remarkable to
all classes, who naturally enquiring the character of the proprietor,
will eagerly extol your charity in contributing your “advice to the
poor GRATIS.”
This method alone will gain you popularity with those that rank in the
line of mediocrity; with _their superiors_, success must be insured
more from the efforts of _interest_, than either _personal merit_, or
_sound policy_. Your attention to the wants of the poor, must soon
be regulated by the preponderation of more weighty considerations;
as you _affected_ to alleviate their distresses from the motive of
commiseration, prompting you to promote _their ease_, you have an
undoubted right to shake off such superfluous visits, to secure _your
own_. In this deceptive charity, some degree of discrimination must be
put in practice, for you will sometimes perceive one among the train,
whose apparel or behaviour must necessarily give you reason to suspect
he has assumed the cloak of necessity to save _his fee_, and avail
himself of your professional liberality in such case, call to your
aid a look of true _medical austerity_, and let him understand “advice
is seldom of any value or “effect unless it is paid for;” this will
frequently answer the purpose, and procure what you did not expect.
On the contrary, so soon as you observe your prescriptions have
“_worked wonders_” upon two or three of the most _credulous_ and
_superstitious_, who are extolling your _great knowledge_ and
“blessing _your honour_,” strengthen the _force_ of your judgment by
_charitably obtruding_ a pecuniary corroboration into the hand of your
afflicted patient, as a confirmation of your _unbounded skill_ in
the (_miraculous_) cure of every disease to which the human frame is
incident. By such _political_ practice, you insure the recital of your
services with extacy, and your name reverberates from one end of the
metropolis to the other.
Your person and place of residence, being by these means universally
known, and your name become in a proportional degree popular, let
your plan and mode of behaviour be instantly changed; it will be now
necessary
“You “assume a” hurry “if you have it not,”
Take care to be so exceedingly engaged with patients of the _first
class and eminence_, that “it is with difficulty you procure time
sufficient for the common purposes and gratifications of nature.” No
paupers _whatever_ can be admitted to your presence without a written
recommendation from _nobility_, or characters of the _first fortune_;
this will insure you no farther intrusion from a class originally
introduced for your _particular purpose_; that effected, they may now
be permitted to fall into the back ground of the picture; from whence
they were brought for no other motive than the promotion of your
personal interest and professional emolument.
It becomes your particular care to be always in a _hurry_; let your
chariot (if you can fortunately raise one) _upon job_, be at the door
regularly by nine in the morning; to prove how very much you are
attached to the duties of your profession, and how anxiously you have
the _salubrity_ of your patients _at heart_.—Omit no one circumstance
that can contribute to a shew of being perpetually engaged. Letters
written by _yourself_, and messengers of your _own dispatching_,
cannot be seen at your doors too frequently; the chariot should be
as repeatedly ordered—remember to leave home by _one way_, and
return by _another_, and equally _in haste_; all these stratagems are
considered peculiar privileges of the _College of Wigs_, and are well
worthy your attention and constant practice. You need hardly be told,
the superficial and unthinking part of mankind are ever caught by
appearances; what proportion they bear to other distinctions, need not
in the present instance be at all ascertained.
Having laid down rules (that should be rigidly persevered in) for the
regulation of your _public character_, I shall now advert to the strict
line of conduct it will be proper for you to adopt in your personal
transactions upon all professional emergencies.
When called to a patient upon the recommendation of the family
apothecary, you are to consider him one of your best friends, and _pay
court to him_ accordingly; on the contrary, if you are engaged upon the
spontaneous opinion of the patient, or his relatives, you have every
reason to conclude the abilities of the apothecary are held in very
slender estimation, and you may safely venture to display as much of
your _own consequence_ and superiority, as circumstances will admit.
After the awkward ceremony of your first appearance is over, and
matters a little adjusted, take great care to be upon your guard;
indulge in a variety of _significant gestures_, and _emphatical
hems!_—and _hahs!_ proving you possessed of _singularities_, that
may tend to excite ideas in the patient and surrounding friends,
that _a physician_ is a superior part of the creation.——Let _every
action_, _every word_, _every look_, be strongly marked, denoting
doubt and ambiguity; proceed to the necessary enquiries of “what
has been done in rule and regimen, previous to your being called
in?” hear the recital with patience, and give your _nod of assent_,
lest you make Mr. Emetic, the apothecary, your formidable enemy, who
will then _most conscientiously_ omit to recommend the assistance of
such _extraordinary abilities_ on any future occasion.—Take care
to _look wisdom_ in every feature; speak but little, and let it be
impossible _that little_ should be understood; let every hint, every
_shrug_ be carefully calculated to give the hearers a wonderful
opinion of your learning and experience.—In your _half-heard_ and
mysterious conversation with your _medical inferior_, do not forget
to drop a few observations upon—“the animal œconomy”—“circulation
of the blood”—“acrimony”—“the non naturals”—“stricture upon the
parts”—“acute pain”—“inflammatory heat”—“nervous irritability,” and
all those _technical traps_ that fascinate the hearers, and render the
patient yours ad libitum.
To the friends or relatives of the diseased, (as the case may be)
you seriously apprehend _great danger_; but such apprehension is
not without its portion of _hope_; and you doubt not, but a rigid
perseverance in the plan you shall prescribe, will reconcile all
difficulties in a few days, and restore the patient (whose recovery you
have exceedingly at heart) to his health and friends; that you will
embrace the earliest opportunity to see him again, most probably at
such an hour, (naming it) in the mean time you are in a great degree
happy to leave him in such good hands as _Mr. Emetic_, to whom you
shall give every necessary direction, and upon whose _integrity_ and
_punctuality_ you can implicitly rely.
You then require a private apartment for your necessary consultation
and plan of _joint depredation_ upon the pecuniary property of your
unfortunate invalid, which you are now going _seriously_ to attack with
the full force of _physic_ and _finesse_. You first learn from your
informant what has been hitherto done without effect, and determine
accordingly how to proceed; but in this, great respect must be paid to
the temper, as well as the constitution and circumstances, of your
intended _prey_; if he be of a petulant and refractory disposition,
submitting to medical dictation upon absolute compulsion, as a
professed enemy to physic and the faculty, let your harvest be _short_,
and complete as possible. On the contrary, should a _hypochondriac_ be
your subject, with the long train of melancholic doubts, fears, hopes,
and despondencies, avail yourself of the faith implicitly placed in
you, and regulate your proceedings by the force of _his imagination_;
let your prescription (by its length and variety) reward your _jackall_
for his present attention and future services.—Take care to furnish
the frame so amply with _physic_, that _food_ may be unnecessary;
let every hour (or two) have its destined appropriation—render all
possible forms of the _materia medica_ subservient to the general
good—_draughts_—_powders_—_drops_, and _pills_, may be given (at
least) every two hours; intervening _apozems_, or _decoctions_, may
have their utility; if no other advantage is to be expected, one good
will be clearly ascertained, the convenience of having the _nurse_
kept constantly awake, and if _one medicine_ is not productive of
success, _another may_. These are surely alternatives well worthy
your attention, being admirably calculated for the promotion of your
_patient’s cure_ and your _own reputation_.
Having written your long prescription, and learnt from Mr. Emetic
every necessary information, you return to the room of your patient,
to prove your attention, and renew your admonitions of punctuality and
submission;—then receiving your _fee_ with a consequential _air of
indifference_, you take your leave; not omitting to drop an additional
assurance, that “you shall not be _remiss_ in your attendance.” These,
Sir, are the instructions you must steadily pursue, if you possess
an ardent desire to become _eminent_ in your _profession_—_opulent_
in your _circumstances_—_formidable_ to your _competitors_, or a
_valuable practitioner_ to the _Company_ of _Apothecaries_, from
whom you are to expect the foundation of support. A multiplicity of
additional hints might be added for your minute observance; but such
a variety will present themselves in the course of practice, that a
retrospective view of diurnal occurrences will sufficiently furnish you
with every possible information for your future progress; regulating
your behaviour, by the rank of your patients, from the _most_ pompous
_personal ostentation_, to the meanest and _most contemptible
servility_.
TO THE SURGEON.
I congratulate you upon your recent emancipation from incessant study,
intense application, and strict _hospital_ attendance, where I shall
willingly suppose, you was a _dresser_ of the most promising abilities;
that you excelled your cotemporaries in every _chirurgical_ opinion,
became an expert _dissecting_ pupil to one of the _court of examiners_,
and are now burst through the cloud of your original obscurity, a
perfect prodigy of _anatomical_ disquisition.
I naturally conclude you capable of animadverting upon all the
distinct branches of your art to admiration, that you are critically
excellent in the use of an _instrument_ from the humble act of simple
_phlebotomy_, to the more important operation for a _fistula in
ano_.—You have, beyond every shadow of doubt, paid proper attention to
the fashionable precepts of the late Lord Chesterfield, and rendered
yourself (with assistance from the graces) a perfect adept in polite
address, displaying a variety of the most engaging attitudes, even in
the adjustment of a _ten tailed bandage_. The professional information
you have industriously collected, is such as will certainly afford you
the most equitable claims upon _public opinion_, being in possession of
every necessary acquisition from a _simple gonorrhœa_ to a _confirmed
lues_.
Previous to your solicitation of favour from your friends, you have
necessarily passed the awful ceremony of examination at the _Old
Bailey_, under your former tutor (and his brethren of the court)
who would not pay his _own abilities_ so improper a compliment as
to ask you questions in _anatomy_ or _osteology_, that he knew your
qualifications inadequate to the task of technically explaining.
After passing this _fiery ordeal_, you deposit the usual _pecuniary
gratuity_, and receiving the _badge_ of your newly acquired _honor_, we
now hail you “_a Member of the Corporation of Surgeons_,” and conclude
an ornamental plate upon the door of your habitation denotes you so
accordingly.
We suppose you embarking in a sea of spirited opposition, with your
competitors, for professional celebrity, and decorating your place
of residence in the most applicable stile to attract attention. To
effect this, let your exterior apartments be ornamented with the
_busts_ of _ancients_ you _never read_, and _portraits_ of _moderns_
that you _never knew_. These form an excellent combination to
excite the admiration and report of those who have occasion to court
the assistance of your extensive abilities.—To gradually heighten
which surprize, your interior (or _audit room_) must be a perfect
_Golgotha_.—A proficiency in the science of _osteology_, must be
powerfully impressed upon the senses of the trembling visitors, by
a _profusion_ of _skeletons_ in different states; let the awfulness
of the scene be rendered still more striking, by a variety of
subjects suspended in spirits, interspersed with singular _anatomical
and injected preparations_, both wet and dry; giving to the whole
additional force by the introduction of a “_few ill shaped fishes_,”
as the finishing stroke to a well formed plan of _chirurgical
ostentation_. Remember to let the _certificates_ of your professional
qualifications, from your different _lecturing tutors_, be so placed
(in elegant frames) as to meet the eye in a conspicuous direction;
lest that part of your patients, who condescend to visit you in this
gloomy recess, should have reason to conclude you a _consummate dunce_
and most _illiterate booby_, if these learned professors had not done
your friends the favour to “_certify_” to the contrary: and this they
always _chearfully_ do, rather than have it imagined they have eased
you of a part of your property, without doing you any _real service_.
The domestic arrangement being thus formed, the reflections to which
you must now turn your mind, are the necessary modes of practice and
behaviour, that may render you not only eminent in your profession, but
respectable in your property; as great events, that contribute largely
to the gratification of such wish, do not frequently occur, inferior
cases of every kind must be rendered subservient to the purpose. In
this list, _venereals_ are entitled to pre-eminence, as the most
lucrative; the patient never hesitating to pay full as liberally for
the preservation of the _secret_ as the cure of _disease_.—But you
may be perfectly assured, this secret never rewards so well, as when
_fate_ or _fortune_ assists its introduction to _married families_; a
most striking corroboration of this fact, occurred not long since in
the neighbourhood of a _royal residence_, and afforded matter of mirth
to the first circles in its environs.—This constant friend to the
faculty was communicated to a married lady, by a _young_ and celebrated
personage of some national eminence, and immediately conveyed from her
to her _enamoured cornuto_ in the moments of true _connubial felicity_;
he, in the love of variety, unluckily conferred the favour upon the
_house maid_; and she, in the extensive liberality of her disposition,
kindly bestowed a portion upon the _footman_. The _electrical shock_
of this _French fire_ was so rapidly communicated, that the four
sufferers, within the space of ten days, made their separate _private_
confessions to the medical superintendant of the family, each assigning
a different cause for its introduction, and equally strangers to the
_mode_ of its being brought into so _sober a family_. Although this is
a well authenticated _fact_, it is a harvest that can be very seldom
expected to happen in so great a degree; yet you will find it a matter
often _intruding_ between husband and wife, and considered no indelible
proof of _modern inconstancy_.—To this secret, you will be frequently
admitted by one party—the other, or both; and have an undoubted
privilege to accumulate all possible pecuniary advantage from the
confidence so implicitly placed in you.
Whatever cases are submitted to your opinion, be always prepared to
represent them _worse_ than they really _are_; making by your technical
terms, and political doubts, _bad worse_ upon every possible occasion.
Let all your proceedings have a peculiar and commanding dignity
annexed to the execution; by assuming a want of feeling, even to
_ferocity_, you will be termed a practitioner of _spirit_, and become
properly distinguished for your professional _fortitude_. No tender
sensations must be permitted to influence your feelings during any
operation, however tedious, or painful to the patient; they are an
ornament to human nature, and beneath your consideration _as one of
the faculty_.—Custom has rendered you ineligible to a place in the
_jury box_, as an evident proof of your professional _brutality_; by
therefore turning “their pains to laughter and contempt,” you only
justify the character you are already in possession of.
In the most trifling operations (even phlebotomy) descend to the very
minutiæ of medical consequence, not only making the ceremony _long_,
but _serious_, that you may be the better entitled to personal respect
and pecuniary compensation. In all those dreadful accidents that alarm
friends and distress families, take care to throw out (during your
apparent care and attention) a variety of observations that convey
_large sounds_ with _little meaning_; by such ambiguous expressions you
render the cure more extraordinary, whenever it happens, and is no bad
preparative for the procrastination of it to your own emolument. In all
cases requiring the interposition of instruments, take great care that
you produce them with mysterious solemnity, impressing the spectators
and assistants, with equal _awe_ and _fear_ of your abilities; if
_incisions_, or _separation_ of the _soft parts_, become necessary, be
sure, like “old Renault,” to “shed blood enough;” it will be attended
with a double advantage; first in the appearance of business, and the
more _pleasing consideration_, that the _larger_ and _deeper_ the
wound, the longer time will be necessary for _incarnation_; during the
course of which, your personal attendance and daily _epithemas_ cannot
be dispensed with.
The _greater operations_ do not occur every day, therefore tedious
_cicatrizations_, in addition to _simple_ and _compound fractures_, are
comfortable aids to fill up the spaces of intervention. Fractures of
the _lower extremities_ are exceedingly favourable, for you may then
exert proper authority; it becomes your duty to keep _them down_ when
they _are so_, for surely you may take upon you to know (with propriety
and professional privilege) when they are capable of _standing_ and
_walking_, better than they can _themselves_.—Tho’ one exception to
this rule has fallen within my knowledge, and nearly set aside the
privilege of the practice in the neighbourhood where it happened.
An honest hearty _miller_, in a small parish in the county of
H—-—-, having, on the market day, made some lucky purchases, and
congratulating himself upon his good fortune with a few friends over
the bottle, got himself insensibly intoxicated; but obstinately
persisting in his determination (and ability) to ride home, he was
suffered to depart, and was found afterwards upon the road by one of
his own servants almost lifeless; he was conveyed to his habitation,
and one of the most _eminent surgeons_ from a certain large and
populous town was called in, who finding the trunk nearly inanimate,
proceeded to _venesection_, then to an accurate examination of the
body, in which he presently discovered “a _fracture of the tibia_,
and two of the ribs; he had every reason to apprehend (from present
symptoms) a _concussion of the brain_; but situated as things were, he
should now administer proper _palliatives_, and pursue the necessary
steps upon his arrival in the morning.”—He then left the patient,
after strict injunctions “that he should not be suffered to move from
the position he had placed him in, till his return.”—At the hour
before appointed, the _Doctor_ returned, and not finding the wife
below stairs, explored the region he had left his patient in the night
before, surrounded by his sorrowful friends; when, strange to relate!
(_stranger to believe!_) the bird was flown, the bed made, and the very
room exhibited a striking proof of rustic neatness. Recovering in some
degree from his surprise, and feeling _very forcibly_ the aukwardness
of his situation, he descended to the kitchen, and there finding the
wife (who had just returned from some business in a back yard) he
eagerly enquired “How, or which way, his patient had been conveyed, and
where to?”—When the poor woman very simply and civilly replied, that
“her husband was gone into the fields among his folks; that she had
repeatedly urged the doctor’s orders of his _not getting out of bed_;
but he was a very obstinate man, and said he’d be d—’d if he’d ever
lay in bed with a _broken leg_ for any doctor in England, so long as
he could walk upon it.”—It may be better conceived than described how
severe a stroke this proved upon the reputation of the surgeon; certain
it is, his practice continued in a declining state for some years, and
it was not till the circumstance was nearly buried in oblivion (with
the body of the miller) that he recovered his former celebrity, being
at this moment one of the oldest and most eminent practitioners in the
neighbourhood where he resides.
This instance sufficiently demonstrates the impropriety of
overstraining the professional prerogative, especially with those
obstinate uncivilized beings, who have so little pliability of
disposition, as not to lay in bed when required; particularly in cases
of emergency, where it is so evidently for the promotion of their own
health and safety.
Remember in all cases of difficulty and danger to be mindful of the
_emplastrum adhæsivum_ of connexion, by which every branch of the
faculty should be united for the preservation of the whole; advise
(without the least reference to the enormity of expence) a consultation
of the most eminent; this renders the case of your patient more serious
and alarming, and you oblige your brethren by the recommendation; first
of a physician, whose _prescription_ introduces the _apothecary_;
and you then proceed _physically_ and _systematically_ in the joint
depredation and cure; your two friends, by the law of retribution,
gratefully recommending your inspection of every simple _laceration_
upon all similar occasions.
These are maxims that may at first sight seem beneath the attention
of a young and _brilliant_ practitioner, who erroneously conceiving
_merit_ a sufficient recommendation, requires no other conductor; but
they are so evidently an absolute part of his necessary study, that
unless such _mutual arts_ are occasionally put in practice, he can
never (in the present multiplied state of practitioners) expect to
derive the common necessaries of life from a fair and generous practice
of his profession.
Men of understanding, experience, and observation, know, that the
benignant hand of providence continues to anticipate in a variety
of instances the interpositions of _art_; and _nature_ would, upon
many occasions, entirely effect her own work, if not so frequently
interrupted and retarded by the officious hands and interested
experiments of professional jugglers.
TO THE ACCOUCHER,
OR,
MAN-MIDWIFE.
You fortunately make your appearance upon the boards of public
patronage, under the most striking advantages; the prevalence
of _fashion_ has exceeded every consideration of _decency_ and
_discretion_, and you are become (by the influence of pride and
imitation) as necessary to the comfort of a cottage, as the happiness
of a court. From the nature of your professional destination, a
pleasing exterior, and an accomplished person, are invariably expected;
necessarily blending (from your intended intercourse with the _purer_
part of the creation) the precision of taste, with the perfection of
the scholar.
The certificate granted you by that elaborate lecturer, the _obstetric
professor_, proclaims you qualified in the very minutiæ of this
mysterious art. The parts, externally and internally, necessary to
generation, are so perfectly familiar to your “mind’s eye,” that
you can extemporaneously delineate the _ovariæ_, the “_fallopian_
tubes,” the _fimbriæ_, and the very act of _conception_, from
the “_animalculæ_” in “_semen masculino_,” to the last stage of
_gestation_; the gradual expansion of the _uterus_, the dilatation
of the _os uteri_, the progress of _labour_, and all the methods of
extraction.
You can clearly define the classes as _natural_, _laborious_, and
_preternatural_; the use of the _forceps_, _scissars_, _crotchet_, and
_blunt hook_; the introduction of the _catheter_, the extraction of the
_placenta_, and the separation of the _funis_; in fact, all the _et
ceteras_ are so perfectly clear to you in _theory_, that it is almost
treason to suppose you can _err_ in the practice.
But, Sir, ripe as you are in these advantages, the harvest of universal
applause, and the sweets of emolument, are scarcely to be acquired
even by time, labour, and the most indefatigable industry. You have
in the practice of _midwifery_, all the ills of _Pandora’s box_ to
encounter, and after twenty years practice may be left to exclaim most
emphatically,
“Vain his attempt who strives to please you all.”
The only consolation you have, is, that you are destined to cooperate
with subjects, whose smiles render some degree of compensation for
the incessant fatigue dependant upon the practice. Under these
considerations, in the full career of your expectations, it can never
prove inapplicable to prepare your mind for some of the rebuffs and
disappointments that inevitably ensue. I conclude you are possessed of
youth, health, diligence, and constitutional _stamina_; but there are
other requisites, equally necessary for the performance of professional
duties, to which by election you dedicate the store of knowledge you
have so industriously acquired. The indispensible qualifications, for
the successful | 1,443.193699 |
2023-11-16 18:41:07.3365450 | 1,774 | 16 | PINES***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
THE HOUSE OF THE WHISPERING PINES
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
1910
Author of
"The Leavenworth Case," "That Affair Next Door," "One of My Sons," etc.
"Mazes intricate,
Eccentric, interwov'd, yet regular
Then most, when most irregular they seem".
_Milton_
CONTENTS
BOOK I
SMOKE
I.--THE HESITATING STEP
II.--IT WAS SHE--SHE INDEED!
III.--"OPEN!"
IV.--THE ODD CANDLESTICK
V.--A SCRAP OF PAPER
VI.--COMMENTS AND REFLECTIONS
VII.--CLIFTON ACCEPTS MY CASE
VIII.--A CHANCE! I TAKE IT
BOOK II
SWEETWATER TO THE FRONT
IX.--"WE KNOW OF No SUCH LETTER"
X.--"I CAN HELP YOU"
XI.--IN THE COACH HOUSE
XII.--"LILA--LILA!"
XIII.--"WHAT WE WANT IS HERE"
XIV.--THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE
XV.--HELEN SURPRISES SWEETWATER
XVI.--62 CUTHBERT ROAD
XVII.--"MUST I TELL THESE THINGS?"
XVIII.--ON IT WAS WRITTEN--
XIX.--"IT'S NOT WHAT YOU WILL FIND"
BOOK III
HIDDEN SURPRISES
XX.---"HE OR YOU! THERE IS NO THIRD"
XXI.--CARMEL AWAKES
XXII.---"BREAK IN THE GLASS!"
XXIII.--AT TEN INSTEAD OF TWELVE
XXIV.--ALL THIS STOOD
XXV.--"I AM INNOCENT"
XXVI.--THE SYLLABLE OF DOOM
XXVII.--EXPECTANCY
XXVIII.--"WHERE Is MY BROTHER?"
BOOK IV
WHAT THE PINES WHISPERED
XXIX.--"I REMEMBERED THE ROOM"
XXX.--"CHOOSE"
XXXI.--"WERE HER HANDS CROSSED THEN?"
XXXII.--AND I HAD SAID NOTHING!
XXXIII.--THE ARROW OF DEATH
XXXIV.--"STEADY!"
XXXV.--"As IF IT WERE A MECCA"
XXXVI.--THE SURCHARGED MOMENT
BOOK ONE
SMOKE
I
THE HESITATING STEP
To have reared a towering scheme
Of happiness, and to behold it razed,
Were nothing: all men hope, and see their hopes
Frustrate, and grieve awhile, and hope anew;
But--
_A Blot in the 'Scutcheon._
The moon rode high; but ominous clouds were rushing towards it--clouds
heavy with snow. I watched these clouds as I drove recklessly,
desperately, over the winter roads. I had just missed the desire of my
life, the one precious treasure which I coveted with my whole
undisciplined heart, and not being what you call a man of
self-restraint, I was chafed by my defeat far beyond the bounds I have
usually set for myself.
The moon--with the wild skurry of clouds hastening to blot it out of
sight--seemed to mirror the chaos threatening my better impulses; and,
idly keeping it in view, I rode on, hardly conscious of my course till
the rapid recurrence of several well-known landmarks warned me that I
had taken the longest route home, and that in another moment I should be
skirting the grounds of The Whispering Pines, our country clubhouse. _I_
had taken? Let me rather say, my horse; for he and I had traversed this
road many times together, and he had no means of knowing that the season
was over and the club-house closed. I did not think of it myself at the
moment, and was recklessly questioning whether I should not drive in and
end my disappointment in a wild carouse, when, the great stack of
chimneys coming suddenly into view against the broad disk of the still
unclouded moon, I perceived a thin trail of smoke soaring up from their
midst and realised, with a shock, that there should be no such sign of
life in a house I myself had closed, locked, and barred that very day.
I was the president of the club and felt responsible. Pausing only long
enough to make sure that I had yielded to no delusion, and that fire of
some kind was burning on one of the club-house's deserted hearths, I
turned in at the lower gateway. For reasons which I need not now state,
there were no bells attached to my cutter and consequently my approach
was noiseless. I was careful that it should be so, also careful to stop
short of the front door and leave my horse and sleigh in the black depths
of the pine-grove pressing up to the walls on either side. I was sure
that all was not as it should be inside these walls, but, as God lives, I
had no idea what was amiss or how deeply my own destiny was involved in
the step I was about to take.
Our club-house stands, as it may be necessary to remind you, on a knoll
thickly wooded with the ancient trees I have mentioned. These trees--all
pines and of a growth unusual and of an aspect well-nigh hoary--extend
only to the rear end of the house, where a wide stretch of gently
undulating ground opens at once upon the eye, suggesting to all lovers of
golf the admirable use to which it is put from early spring to latest
fall. Now, links, as well as parterres and driveways, are lying under an
even blanket of winter snow, and even the building, with its picturesque
gables and rows of be-diamonded windows, is well-nigh indistinguishable
in the shadows cast by the heavy pines, which soar above it and twist
their limbs over its roof and about its forsaken corners, with a moan and
a whisper always desolate to the sensitive ear, but from this night on,
simply appalling.
No other building stood within a half-mile in any direction. It was
veritably a country club, gay and full of life in the season, but
isolated and lonesome beyond description after winter had set in and
buried flower and leaf under a wide waste of untrodden snow.
I felt this isolation as I stepped from the edge of the trees and
prepared to cross the few feet of open space leading to the main door.
The sudden darkness instantly enveloping me, as the clouds, whose
advancing mass I had been watching, made their final rush upon the moon,
added its physical shock to this inner sense of desolation, and, in some
moods, I should have paused and thought twice before attempting the door,
behind which lurked the unknown with its naturally accompanying
suggestion of peril. But rage and disappointment, working hotly within
me, had left no space for fear. Rather rejoicing in the doubtfulness of
the adventure, I pushed my way over the snow until my feet struck the
steps. Here, instinct caused me to stop and glance quickly up and down
the building either way. Not a gleam of light met my eye from the
smallest scintillating pane. Was the house as soundless as it was dark?
I listened but heard nothing. I listened again and still heard nothing.
Then I proceeded boldly up the steps and laid my hand on the door.
It was unlatched and yielded to my touch. Light or no light, sound or no
sound there was some one within. The fire which had sent its attenuated
streak of smoke up into the moonlit air, was burning yet on one of the
many hearths within, and before it I should presently see--
Whom?
What?
The question scarcely interested me.
Nevertheless I proceeded to enter and close the door carefully behind me.
As I did so, I cast an involuntary glance without. The sky was inky and a
few wandering flakes of the now rapidly advancing storm | 1,443.356585 |
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FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN NORTH AMERICA,
A SERIES OF HISTORICAL NARRATIVES, PART THIRD.
THE DISCOVERY OF THE GREAT WEST
BY FRANCIS PARKMAN
1870
TO THE CLASS OF 1844,
HARVARD COLLEGE,
THIS BOOK IS CORDIALLY DEDICATED
BY ONE OF THEIR NUMBER.
PREFACE.
The discovery of the "Great West," or the valleys of the Mississippi and
the Lakes, is a portion of our history hitherto very obscure. Those
magnificent regions were revealed to the world through a series of daring
enterprises, of which the motives and even the incidents have been but
partially and superficially known. The chief actor in them wrote much, but
printed nothing; and the published writings of his associates stand
wofully in need of interpretation from the unpublished documents which
exist, but which have not heretofore been used as material for history.
This volume attempts to supply the defect. Of the large amount of wholly
new material employed in it, by far the greater part is drawn from the
various public archives of France, and the rest from private sources. The
discovery of many of these documents is due to the indefatigable research
of M. Pierre Margry, assistant custodian of the Archives of the Marine and
Colonies at Paris, whose labors, as an investigator of the maritime and
colonial history of France can be appreciated only by those who have seen
their results. In the department of American colonial history, these
results have been invaluable; for, besides several private collections
made by him, he rendered important service in the collection of the French
portion of the Brodhead documents, selected and arranged the two great
series of colonial papers ordered by the Canadian government, and
prepared, with vast labor, analytical indexes of these and of
supplementary documents in the French archives, as well as a copious index
of the mass of papers relating to Louisiana. It is to be hoped that the
valuable publications on the maritime history of France which have
appeared from his pen are an earnest of more extended contributions in
future.
The late President Sparks, some time after the publication of his life of
La Salle, caused a collection to be made of documents relating to that
explorer, with the intention of incorporating them in a future edition.
This intention was never carried into effect, and the documents were never
used. With the liberality which always distinguished him, he placed them
at my disposal, and this privilege has been, kindly continued by Mrs.
Sparks.
Abbe Faillon, the learned author of "La Colonie Francaise en Canada," has
sent me copies of various documents found by him, including family papers
of La Salle. Among others who in various ways have aided my inquiries, are
Dr. John Paul, of Ottawa, Ill.; Count Adolphe de Circourt and M. Jules
Marcou, of Paris; M. A. Gerin Lajoie, Assistant Librarian of the Canadian
Parliament; M. J. M. Le Moine, of Quebec; General Dix, Minister of the
United States at the Court of France; O. H. Marshall, of Buffalo; J. G.
Shea, of New York; Buckingham Smith, of St. Augustine; and Colonel Thomas
Aspinwall, of Boston.
The map contained in the book is a portion of the great manuscript map of
Franquelin, of which an account will be found in the Appendix.
The next volume of the series will be devoted to the efforts of Monarchy
and Feudalism under Louis XIV. to establish a permanent power on this
continent, and to the stormy career of Louis de Buade, Count of Frontenac.
BOSTON, 16 September, 1869.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER I.
1643-1669.
CAVELIER DE LA SALLE.
The Youth of La Salle.--His Connection with the Jesuits.--He goes to
Canada.--His Character.--His Schemes.--His Seigniory at La
Chine.--His Expedition in Search of a Western Passage to India.
CHAPTER II.
1669-1671.
LA SALLE AND THE SULPITIANS.
The French in Western New York.--Louis Joliet.--The Sulpitians on
Lake Erie.--At Detroit.--At Saut Ste. Marie.--The Mystery of La
Salle.--He discovers the Ohio.--He descends the Illinois.--Did he
reach the Mississippi?
CHAPTER III.
1670-1672.
THE JESUITS ON THE LAKES.
The Old Missions and the New.--A Change of Spirit.--Lake Superior
and the Copper Mines.--Ste. Marie.--La Pointe.--Michillimackinac.--
Jesuits on Lake Michigan.--Allouez and Dablon.--The Jesuit
Fur-Trade.
CHAPTER IV.
1667-1672.
FRANCE TAKES POSSESSION OF THE WEST.
Talon.--St. Lusson.--Perrot.--The Ceremony at Saut Ste. Marie.--
The Speech of Allouez.--Count Frontenac.
CHAPTER V.
1672 | 1,443.36083 |
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$Inspiration and Interpretation:$
SEVEN SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD:
WITH PRELIMINARY REMARKS:
BEING AN ANSWER TO A VOLUME ENTITLED
"Essays and Reviews."
BY THE
REV. JOHN WILLIAM BURGON, M.A.,
FELLOW OF ORIEL COLLEGE, AND SELECT PREACHER.
* * * * *
I CANNOT HOLD MY PEACE, BECAUSE THOU HAST HEARD, O MY SOUL,
THE SOUND OF THE TRUMPET, THE ALARM OF WAR.
Oxford & London:
J. H. and Jas. PARKER.
1861.
$Printed by Messrs. Parker, Cornmarket, Oxford.$
TO THE REVEREND
WILLIAM SEWELL, D.D.,
FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE: LATE PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD; AND LATE WARDEN OF ST. PETER'S COLLEGE, RADLEY.
* * * * *
MY DEAR FRIEND,
Let me have the satisfaction of inscribing this volume to yourself. I
know of no one who has more faithfully devoted himself to the sacred
cause of Christian Education: no one to whom those blessed Truths are
more precious, which of late have been so unscrupulously assailed, and
which the ensuing pages are humbly designed to uphold in their integrity.
Affectionately yours,
JOHN W. BURGON.
* * * * *
ΔΕΙ ΓΑΡ ΚΑΙ ἉΙΡΕΣΕΙΣ ἘΝ ὙΜΙΝ ΕΙΝΑΙ, ἹΝΑ ΟΙ ΔΟΚΙΜΟΙ ΦΑΝΕΡΟΙ ΓΕΝΩΝΤΑΙ ἘΝ
ὙΜΙΝ.
Ac si diceret: Ob hoc hæreseôn non statim divinitus eradicantur
auctores, ut probati manifesti fiant; id est, ut unusquisque quam tenax,
et fidelis, et fixus Catholicæ fidei sit amator, appareat. Et revera cum
quæque novitas ebullit, statim cernitur frumentorum gravitas, et levitas
palearum: tunc sine magno molimine excutitur ab areâ, quod nullo pondere
intra aream tenebatur.--VINCENTIUS LIRINENSIS, _Adversus Hæreses_, § 20.
PREFACE.
I am unwilling that this volume should go forth to the world without
some account of its origin and of its contents.
I. Appointed last year, (without solicitation on his part,) to the
office of Select Preacher, the present writer was called upon at the
commencement of the October Term to address the University. His Sermon,
(the first in the volume,) was simply intended to embody the advice
which he had already orally given to every Undergraduate who had sought
counsel at his hands for many years past in Oxford; advice which, to say
the truth, he was almost weary of repeating. Nothing more weighty or
more apposite, at all events, presented itself, for an introductory
address: nor has a review of the current of religious opinion, either
before or since, produced any change of opinion as to the importance of
what was on that first occasion advocated.
Another, and another, and yet another preaching turn unexpectedly
presented itself, in the course of the same Term; and the IInd, IIIrd,
and IVth of the ensuing Sermons, (preached on alternate Sundays,) were
the result. The study of the Bible had been advocated in the first
Sermon; but it was urged from a hundred quarters that a considerable
amount of unbelief prevailed respecting that very Book for which it was
evident that the preacher claimed entire perfection and absolute
supremacy. The singular fallacy of these last days, that Natural
Science, in some unexplained manner, has already demolished,--or is
inevitably destined to demolish[1],--the Book of Divine Revelation,
appeared to be the fallacy which had emerged into most offensive
prominence; and to this, he accordingly addressed himself.--It will not,
surely, be thought by any one who reads the IInd of these Sermons that
its author is so weak as to look with jealousy on the progress of
Physical Science. His alarm does not arise from the cultivation of the
noblest study but one,--viz. the study of GOD'S Works; but from the
prevalent _neglect of the noblest study of all_,--viz. _the study of
GOD'S Word_. His quarrel is not with the Professors of Natural Science,
but with those who are mere _Pretenders_ to it. Moreover, he makes no
secret of his displeasure at the undue importance which has of late been
claimed for Natural Science; and which is sufficiently implied by the
prevalent fashion of naming it without any distinguishing epithet,--as
"Science," absolutely: just as if _Theology_ were not a Science also[2]!
It is not necessary to speak particularly of the contents of the next
two Sermons; except to say that the train of thought thus started
conducted the author inevitably over ground which was already occupied
in the public mind by a volume which had already obtained some
notoriety, and which has since become altogether infamous. Enough of the
contents of that unhappy production I had read to be convinced that in a
literary, certainly in a _Theological_ point of view, it was a most
worthless performance; and I recognized with equal sorrow and alarm that
it was but the matured expression of opinions which had been fostering
for years in certain quarters: opinions which, occasionally, had been
ventilated from the University pulpit; or which had been deliberately
advocated in print[3]; and which it was now hinted were formidably
maintained, and would be found hard to answer. Astonished, (not by any
means for the first time in my life,) at the apathy which seemed to
prevail on questions of such vital moment, I determined at all events
not to be a party to a craven silence; and denounced from the University
pulpit with hearty indignation that whole system of unbelief, (if system
it can be called,) which has been growing up for years among us[4]; and
which, I was and am convinced, must be openly met,--not silently ignored
until the mischief becomes unmanageable: met, too, by building up men
in THE TRUTH: above all, by giving Theological instruction to those who
are destined to become Professors of Theological Science, and are about
to undertake the cure of souls.... In this spirit, I asserted the
opposite fundamental verities; and so, would have been content to
dismiss the "Essays and Reviews" from my thoughts for ever.
But in the meantime, the respectability of the authors of that volume
had attracted to their work an increasing share of notice. An able
article in the 'Westminster Review' first aroused public attention. A
still abler in the 'Quarterly' awoke the Church to a sense of the
enormity of the offence which had been committed. It was not that
_danger_ was apprehended. There could be but one opinion as to the
essential impotence of the attack. But the circumstances which aroused
public indignation were twofold. First,--Here was a _conspiracy_ against
the Faith. Seven Critics had _avowedly combined_ "to illustrate the
advantage derivable to the cause of Religious and Moral Truth from a
free handling, in a becoming spirit, of" what they were pleased to
characterize as "subjects peculiarly liable to suffer by the repetition
of conventional language, and from traditional modes of treatment[5]."
They prefixed to their joint labours the expression of a "hope that
their volume would be received as | 1,443.403692 |
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THE ART OF
LOGICAL THINKING
OR
THE LAWS OF REASONING
By WILLIAM WALKER ATKINSON
L.N. FOWLER & COMPANY
7, Imperial Arcade, Ludgate Circus
London, E.C., England
1909
THE PROGRESS COMPANY
CHICAGO, ILL.
Copyright 1909
By
THE PROGRESS COMPANY
Chicago, Ill., U.S.A.
CONTENTS
I. Reasoning 9
II. The Process of Reasoning 17
III. The Concept 25
IV. The Use of Concepts 37
V. Concepts and Images 48
VI. Terms 56
VII. The Meaning of Terms 73
VIII. Judgments 82
IX. Propositions 90
X. Immediate Reasoning 99
XI. Inductive Reasoning 107
XII. Reasoning by Induction 116
XIII. Theory and Hypotheses 125
XIV. Making and Testing Hypotheses 132
XV. Deductive Reasoning 144
XVI. The Syllogism 156
XVII. Varieties of Syllogisms 167
XVIII. Reasoning by Analogy 179
XIX. Fallacies 186
CHAPTER I.
REASONING
"Reasoning" is defined as: "The act, process or art of exercising the
faculty of reason; the act or faculty of employing reason in argument;
argumentation, ratiocination; reasoning power; disputation, discussion,
argumentation." Stewart says: "The word _reason_ itself is far from
being precise in its meaning. In common and popular discourse it denotes
that power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, and right from
wrong, and by which we are enabled to combine means for the attainment
of particular ends."
By the employment of the reasoning faculties of the mind we compare
objects presented to the mind as percepts or concepts, taking up the
"raw materials" of thought and weaving them into more complex and
elaborate mental fabrics which we call abstract and general ideas of
truth. Brooks says: "It is the thinking power of the mind; the faculty
which gives us what has been called _thought-knowledge_, in distinction
from _sense-knowledge_. It may be regarded as the mental architect among
the faculties; it transforms the material furnished by the senses...
into new products, and thus builds up the temples of science and
philosophy." The last-mentioned authority adds: "Its products are
twofold, _ideas_ and _thoughts_. An _idea_ is a mental product which
when expressed in words does not give a proposition; a _thought_ is a
mental product which embraces the relation of two or more ideas. The
ideas of the understanding are of two general classes; abstract ideas
and general ideas. The thoughts are also of two general classes; those
pertaining to contingent truth and those pertaining to necessary truth.
In contingent truth, we have _facts_, or immediate judgments, and
_general truths_ including _laws_ and _causes_, derived from particular
facts; in necessary | 1,443.406779 |
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
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Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
Minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed.
Mismatched quotes are not fixed if it's not sufficiently clear where
the missing quote should be placed.
The cover for the eBook version of this book was created by the
transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Page 280: "Bank of Chillicothe, 3"--The number 3 is unclear.
* * * * *
THE
RURAL MAGAZINE,
AND
LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE.
VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA, _Seventh Month_, 1820. _No. 7._
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
THE VILLAGE TEACHER.
Among the smooth faced urchins that were subject to my little
kingdom about fifteen years ago, was a tall awkward boy, named
Jonathan Gull. Jonathan was the son of an honest hard working
farmer, who lived about two miles from the village, and who had
by dint of frugality, acquired some | 1,443.458229 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: The Mihrab of the Mosque of Roustem Pasha, Showing
Persian Tiles.]
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. I.
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
1896.
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE ARRIVAL 7
FIVE HOURS LATER 33
THE BRIDGE 43
STAMBUL 59
ALONG THE GOLDEN HORN 85
THE GREAT BAZÂR 121
LIFE IN CONSTANTINOPLE 159
ST. SOPHIA 247
DOLMABÂGHCHEH 279
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME I.
Photogravures by W. H. GILBO.
PAGE
THE MIHRAB OF THE MOSQUE OF ROUSTEM PASHA, SHOWING PERSIAN TILES
_Frontispiece._
MOSQUES OF SULTAN AHMED AND ST. SOPHIA 21
VIEW OF PERA AND GALATA 29
ANCIENT FOUNTAIN 39
BRIDGE OF GALATA 45
FOUNTAIN OF COURT OF THE MOSQUE OF AHMED 65
BURNT COLUMN OF CONSTANTINE 70
TOWER OF GALATA 90
PANORAMA OF THE ARSENAL AND GOLDEN HORN 105
DATE-SELLER 131
VIEW OF STAMBUL, MOSQUE OF VALID | 1,443.508802 |
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